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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature
+and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878., 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: Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: August 12, 2006 [EBook #19032]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine D. and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE
+
+OF
+
+_POPULAR LITERATURE AND SCIENCE_.
+
+
+
+JULY, 1878.
+VOLUME XXII.
+
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by J.B.
+LIPPINCOTT & Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at
+Washington.
+
+
+HERE AND THERE IN OLD BRISTOL.
+
+
+[Illustration: GRAVE OF HANNAH MORE AT WRINGTON, NEAR BRISTOL.]
+
+The streets of Bristol are, in a modern point of view, narrow and
+uninviting, yet if the visitor have a liking for the picturesque he will
+find much to interest him. There are plenty of streets crammed with
+old-time houses, thrusting out their upper stories beyond the lower, and
+with their many-gabled roofs seeming to heave and rock against the sky.
+If they lack anything in interest, it is that no local Scott has arisen
+to throw over them a glamour of romance which might make more tolerable
+the odors wherein they vie with the Canongate of sweet memory.
+
+[Illustration: CHATTERTON AS DOORKEEPER IN COLSTON'S SCHOOL.]
+
+Nor is the throng which fills the Bristol streets wholly prosaic in its
+aspect, for the quaint garb of ancient charities holds its own against
+the modern tailor. Such troops of charity-children taking their solemn
+walks! Such long lines of boys in corduroy, such streams of girls in pug
+bonnets, stuff gowns and white aprons, as pour forth from the schools
+and almshouses to be found in every quarter of the city! The Colston
+boys are less frequently seen, because the school has been removed to
+one of the suburbs, yet now and then one of their odd figures meets the
+eye. They wear a muffin cap of blue cloth with a yellow band around it
+and a yellow ball on its apex; a blue cloth coat with a long plaited
+skirt; a leathern belt, corduroy knee-breeches and yellow worsted
+stockings. Just such, in outside garb, was Chatterton a century ago, and
+thus he is represented on his monument near Redcliff church.
+
+[Illustration: CHATTERTON CENOTAPH.]
+
+You are perhaps gazing skyward at some lordly campanile when a sudden
+rush of feet and hum of voices comes around the corner, and the dark
+street is all aglow. These are the Red Maids, who walk the earth in
+scarlet gowns, set off by white aprons: they owe the bright hues of
+their existence to Alderman Whitson, who died in 1628, leaving funds to
+the mayor, burgesses and commonalty of the city of Bristol, "to the use
+and intent that they should therewith provide a fit and convenient
+dwelling-house for the abode of one grave, painful and modest woman of
+good life and conversation, and for forty poor women-children (whose
+parents, being freemen and burgesses of the said city, should be
+deceased or decayed); that they should therein admit the said woman and
+forty poor women-children, and cause them to be there kept and
+maintained, and also taught to read English and to sew and do some other
+laudable work toward their maintenance; ... and should cause every one
+of the said children to go and be apparelled in red cloth, and to give
+their attendance on the said woman, to attend and wait before the mayor
+and aldermen, their wives and others their associates, to hear sermons
+on the Sabbath and festival days, and other solemn meetings of the said
+mayor and aldermen and their wives," etc. etc. These maids are admitted
+between the ages of eight and ten, and at eighteen are placed at
+service.
+
+Other aspects of Bristol are brought out in Pope's description of it in
+a letter to Mrs. Martha Blount.[1] After describing his drive from Bath
+and his crossing the bridge into Bristol, he continues: "From thence you
+come to a key along the old wall, with houses on both sides, and in the
+middle of the street, as far as you can see, hundreds of ships, their
+masts as thick as they can stand by one another, which is the oddest and
+most surprising sight imaginable. This street is fuller of them than the
+Thames from London Bridge to Deptford, and at certain times only the
+water rises to carry them out; so that at other times a long street full
+of ships in the middle and houses on both sides looks like a dream." ...
+"The city of Bristol is very unpleasant, and no civilized company in it;
+only, the collector of the customs would have brought me acquainted with
+merchants of whom I hear no great character. The streets are as crowded
+as London, but the best image I can give you of it is, 'tis as if
+Wapping and Southwark were ten times as big, or all their people ran
+into London. Nothing is fine in it but the square, which is larger than
+Grosvenor Square, and well builded, with a very fine brass statue in the
+middle of King William on horseback; and the key, which is full of
+ships, and goes round half the square. The College Green is pretty and
+(like the square) set with trees. There is a cathedral, very neat, and
+nineteen parish churches."
+
+[Illustration: STEEP STREET, NOW PULLED DOWN.]
+
+It is quite as curious to note what Pope omits as what he mentions. He
+is much taken with a commonplace square, and with the mingling of ships
+and houses (which is truly effective), but the modern traveller would
+find the chief beauty of the city in its Gothic architecture, to which
+Pope gives one line--"a cathedral, very neat, and nineteen parish
+churches." Let the visitor ascend any one of the hills which overhang
+Bristol, and a beautiful scene at once bursts upon his view: this is due
+to the pre-eminent beauty of the church-towers, the great stone lilies
+of the fifteenth century soaring above the dingy town; each,
+
+    For holy service built, with high disdain
+    Surveys this lower stage of earthly gain;
+
+and a hard struggle they have to hold their own against the menacing
+chimney-stacks of manufacturing England. All the poetry and aspiration
+of the past seems contending, shoulder to shoulder, in thick air with
+the material interests of the present.
+
+Strolling about through the grimy streets, one's eye is caught by the
+sign "Quakers' Friars," and following up the narrow court to seek the
+meaning of this odd combination of opposing ideas, one comes to the
+Friends' school, occupying the remnant of a former priory of Black
+Friars. It is a spot intimately associated with recollections of the
+early Friends. In 1690 the father of Judge Logan of Pennsylvania was
+master of this school. Adjoining the school is the Friends'
+meeting-house, built in 1669 on what was then an open space near the
+priory, where George Fox often preached; and within the walls of the
+meeting-house this Quaker father took upon himself the state of
+matrimony. A local bard is inspired to sing:
+
+    Many years ago, six hundred or so,
+      The Dominican monks had a praying and eating house
+    Just on the spot where a little square dot
+      On the Bristol map marks the old Quakers' meeting-house.
+
+    A different scene it was once, I ween:
+      No monk is now heard his prayers repeating;
+    And the singers and chaunters and black gallivanters
+      Had never a thought of "a silent meeting."
+
+[Illustration: "TIMES AND MIRROR" PRINTING-OFFICE, NOW PULLED DOWN.]
+
+The streets near by, called Callowhill, Philadelphia and Penn streets,
+recall the residence here of William Penn in 1697, after his marriage
+with Hannah, daughter of Thomas Callowhill and granddaughter of Dennis
+Hollister, prominent merchants of _Bristol_. These streets are believed
+to have been laid out and named by Penn on land belonging to Hollister.
+Another Friend was Richard Champion, the inventor of Bristol china and
+the friend of Burke. Champion's manufactory was not commercially a
+success, but his ware is now highly prized, and some few remaining
+pieces of a tea-service, presented by Mr. and Mrs. Champion to Mrs.
+Burke at the time the latter's husband was returned member for Bristol,
+have brought thrice their weight in gold.
+
+In Castle street, not far from Quakers' Friars, stands a profusely
+ornamented mansion, now St. Peter's Hospital. The eastern portion is of
+considerable antiquity: the western was rebuilt in 1608. In the
+fifteenth century the older portion was the residence of Thomas Norton,
+a famous alchemist, who, according to Fuller, "undid himself and all his
+friends who trusted him with money, living and dying very poor about the
+year 1477."[2] Norton's ill-success was, however, in his own belief, the
+success of others. He declared that a merchant's wife of Bristol had
+stolen from him the _elixir of life_. "Some suspect her" (says Fuller)
+"to have been the wife of William Cannings, contemporary with Norton,
+who started up to so great and sudden wealth--the clearest evidence of
+their conjecture." The person here intended is no other than the great
+Bristol merchant William Canynge the younger, who was five times mayor
+and one of the rebuilders of Redcliff church. His ships, which crowded
+the quays of Bristol, were a more evident source of wealth than any
+cunningly devised elixir except in the eyes of a disappointed dreamer.
+The reflection that in this quaint old house was enacted a history like
+to that of Balthazar Claes lends to it a strange fascination.
+
+The church of St. Mary Redcliff is, as ever, intimately associated with
+the name and genius of Chatterton: no saint in the calendar could have
+shed over it such an interest; and beautiful as it is, "the pride of
+Bristowe and the Westerne Land," how many visit it for its beauty alone?
+This is rather hard for the clericals: they are unwilling to forget that
+Chatterton was an impostor and a suicide; and to have their church
+surrounded by a halo from such a _source_! bah! They have done what they
+could by removing his monument from _consecrated_ ground and depriving
+it of its inscription.
+
+In an old chest left to moulder in a room over the north porch of this
+church Chatterton professed to find the Rowley manuscripts. In this
+room, "here, in the full but fragile enjoyment of his brief and illusory
+existence, he stored the treasure-house of his memory with the thoughts
+that, teeming over his pages, have enrolled his name among the great in
+the land of poetry and song. Happy here, ere his first joyous
+aspirations were repressed--ere the warm and genial emotions of his
+heart were checked--before time had dissipated his idle dreams, and
+neglect, contempt and distress had fastened on his mind, and hurried him
+onward to his untoward destiny."[3]
+
+This church is one of the finest examples of the Perpendicular Gothic:
+it has been carefully restored, the work extending over thirty years.
+The most interesting monuments are those of William Canynge the younger,
+the great Bristol merchant, who lies buried here with his wife, his
+almoner, his brewer, his cook and other servants--a goodly family party:
+the cook is indicated by a knife and skimmer rudely cut upon a flat
+stone. There are two effigies of Canynge--one in his robes as mayor, the
+other in priest's robes; for in his latter years, after the death of his
+wife, he took orders, and died in 1474 dean of Westbury.
+
+[Illustration: MUNIMENT-ROOM, ST. MARY REDCLIFF.]
+
+The memorial of Admiral Sir William Penn, father of the founder of
+Pennsylvania, is a conspicuous object in the nave--a mural tablet
+decorated with his helmet, cuirass, gauntlets, sword, and tattered
+banners taken from the Dutch. Near it--a singular object in a church--is
+the rib of a whale which is believed to date from the year 1497, there
+being an entry in the town records of that year: "Pd. for settynge upp
+ye bone of ye bigge fyshe," etc.;[4] and as Sebastian Cabot had then
+just discovered Newfoundland, it may have been one of the trophies of
+his voyage. But it long had a very different history: its origin being
+forgotten, there grew up a legend that it was the rib of a dun cow of
+gigantic build who gave milk to the whole parish of Redcliff, and whose
+slaughter, by Guy, earl of Warwick, threw all the milkmaids out of
+employment. It was in Redcliff church that both Southey and Coleridge
+were married.
+
+[Illustration: ADMIRAL PENN'S MONUMENT IN ST. MARY REDCLIFF.]
+
+The cathedral, "very neat," as Pope expresses it, would be a great
+treasure in New York, but in England, where Gothic structures so abound,
+it is far surpassed by several in its vicinity. It has suffered much
+from iconoclasts, both those who destroy and those who restore. The
+completion of the nave is now being rapidly pushed forward, and will be
+followed by that of the towers--good evidence that the Gothic revival in
+England has not yet spent its force. In its present condition the
+general effect of the building is disappointing, although there are many
+admirable details. The chapter-house and the archway below the church
+are fine relics of its Norman period. In the choir is the tomb of Bishop
+Butler, author of the _Analogy_, for twelve years bishop of this
+diocese. There is also a tablet to his memory, erected in 1834, with an
+inscription by Southey. Among the monuments one finds two names which
+shine, it may be said, by reflected light--that of Mrs. Draper, Sterne's
+"Eliza," and Lady Hesketh, Cowper's devoted friend and cousin. A bust
+of Southey finds a place here as a tribute of respect in his native
+town; and the name of Sydney Smith comes to mind, who was a prebendary
+of this cathedral.
+
+The city of Bristol, although essentially a manufacturing and commercial
+centre, is not deficient in names which have enjoyed a widespread
+literary reputation. All through the first half of the present century
+Bristol was associated with the colossal fame of Hannah More, but the
+idol is long since forgotten, and now, a little more than forty years
+after her death, many might ask, Who was Hannah More? She was the
+daughter of the schoolmaster at Stapleton, near Bristol, and was born on
+the 2d of February, 1745. She was one of five daughters, who by the
+education received from their father were enabled to set up in Bristol a
+boarding-school for young ladies which had the luck to become
+_fashionable_. Hannah's literary reputation began at the age of
+seventeen with a pastoral drama, the _Search after Happiness_, written
+for, and performed by, the young ladies of the boarding-school. On this
+slender basis she visited London, was so fortunate as to attract the
+attention of Garrick, and was by him introduced into his brilliant
+circle. She must have been at that time both witty and pretty, for Mrs.
+Montagu and the Reynoldses were delighted with her, Dr. Johnson gave her
+pet names, and Horace Walpole called her Saint Hannah. Her next great
+success was her tragedy of _Percy_, in which Garrick sustained the
+principal character, and in which Mrs. Siddons afterward appeared. Later
+on, Mrs. More published some _Sacred Dramas_, but after the death of
+Garrick she abandoned dramatic writing, her views leading her to take up
+what was called, in her day, "strict behavior," of which she now became
+the apostle. On her literary profits she retired to Cowslip Green, near
+Bristol, and later on to Barley Wood, where she was joined by her
+sisters, who were enabled to retire on the handsome profits of their
+school. But neither "strict behavior" nor anything else could weaken
+Hannah's hold on her day and generation: her _Estimate of the Religion
+of the Fashionable World_ went off like hot cakes, and her _Thoughts on
+the Manners of the Great_ were scrambled for by both great and
+small--seven large editions in a few months, the second in a week, the
+third in _four hours_! How many people now-a-days have read _Coelebs_,
+of which twelve editions were printed in the first year, and in all
+thirty thousand copies of disposed of in America alone? _Corinne_
+appeared when Lucilla, the heroine of _Coelebs_, was at the height of
+her popularity, and much animated comparison was instituted between
+Corinne and the rival she has long survived.
+
+[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL]
+
+The first opposition which Hannah More encountered arose from her
+efforts to improve the condition of the poor in her neighborhood by
+education and the formation of benefit societies. The impulse to this
+movement came from Mr. Wilberforce, who, being on a visit at Barley
+Wood, was taken on an excursion to Cheddar Cliffs, then, as now, one of
+the "sights" of the vicinity. Mr. Wilberforce, while admiring the
+scenery, chanced to fall into conversation with one of the inhabitants,
+and learned, to his dismay, that the whole beautiful region was sunk in
+ignorance and vice. This discovery was discussed in full conclave on
+their return to Barley Wood, and Mrs. More undertook to have a school
+opened in Cheddar. The school proved a success, and by the aid of the
+subscriptions which her name brought from far and near she eventually
+extended the system over nine of the neighboring parishes, sunk in the
+barbarism of English village-life of that day, of which Cowper's village
+of Olney was an example. But this work did not go on as smoothly as the
+sale of _Coelebs_: it at once aroused opposition from the large class
+who do not like to see old ruts abandoned, and was branded as
+_Methodism_--an epithet that was then freely used as an extinguisher for
+anything novel, and was a "bugaboo" of whose terrors we can have in this
+day little conception. Hannah was accused of endeavoring to spread
+toleration, and a favorite charge against her was that she had partaken
+of "bread and wine in a meeting-house." In vain her sister Martha
+explained that she sinned in good company, for many "High-Church people
+did the same, and one gentleman and lady with ten thousand pounds a
+year, who have always the Church prayers performed morning and evening
+in their family." Although the bishop excused her, it was determined
+that Hannah was to be crushed by a review; but all was of no more avail
+than in the case of Miss Martineau, which has been recently recalled by
+her autobiography. Hannah survived it all, and stuck through thick and
+thin to her triumphant schools and her "strict behavior." A less harmful
+shaft was hurled by a Bristol wit on an occasion when her clothes took
+fire and she was saved by the stout quality of her gown:
+
+    Vulcan to scorch thy gown in vain essays:
+    Apollo strives in vain to fire thy lays.
+    Hannah! the cause is visible enough:
+    Stuff is thy raiment, and thy writings--_stuff_.
+
+[Illustration: BARLEY WOOD, HANNAH MORE'S RESIDENCE.]
+
+A curious incident in Hannah More's life was her encounter with Ann
+Yearsley, the Bristol Milkwoman, of whom some account is given in
+Southey's _Essay upon the Uneducated Poets_. A gossiping writer briefly
+states the case as follows: "This poor woman, as is well known, sold
+milk, and, from going to water it each morning at the Pierian font,
+caught at length the poetic fervor. Mrs. Hannah More, whom she served
+with cream, was struck by the _superior_ merit of her verses, and became
+her patroness. Mrs. More's name was enough to sell worse poetry, or even
+worse milk, than Ann Yearsley's. Milton had no such friend, and could
+not get twenty pounds for _Paradise_; but Ann Yearsley's book brought
+her some three hundred guineas. Hannah More, as she was the artificer,
+wanted also to become the manager, of the milkwoman's little fortune;
+but the milkwoman thought she was competent to take care of it herself,
+and wanted to bind her boys out to trades. The lady-patroness was
+offended at the independence of the _prot�g�e_, who had been taken from
+under the milk-pails; Ann Yearsley dared to differ _from_ her
+benefactor, and was denounced as an ungrateful woman; all Mrs. More's
+idolaters _declared against_ her, and the whole religious world opened
+on her in full cry."[5] Lactilla (for so the Mores and Montagus called
+her) loudly remonstrated: she accused Hannah of being envious of her
+talents, and announced a new edition of her poems _freed from Mrs.
+More's corruptions_. She carried her point, but, deprived of Mrs. More's
+favor, she quickly sank back into misfortune and obscurity.
+
+[Illustration: WINE STREET, THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT SOUTHEY.]
+
+The parents of Lord Macaulay were intimate friends of Mrs. More, and in
+her later years Hannah watched with tender interest the brilliant
+promise of that extraordinary youth. Young Macaulay was a not infrequent
+visitor at Barley Wood, and Mrs. More at one time devised her library to
+him, but afterward withdrew the bequest, owing to her doubts of the
+"strictness" of Macaulay's views. Poor Macaulay! He failed to win the
+esteem of two great female writers: the one feared he had no "religion;"
+the other declared he had no "heart."
+
+As the Misses More began to get on in the seventies, one after the other
+died, and Barley Wood (or _Mauritania_, as wags called it) grew
+desolate. Then occurred the last great event of Hannah's life--her
+_flight_ from Barley Wood. It suddenly transpired that for three years
+her eight servants had been in full enjoyment of high life below stairs
+It was discovered that they had given large orders to tradesmen in her
+name; they had intercepted sums of money intended for charity, and when
+the whole household was supposed to be at rest they were supping on
+presents of game sent to Mrs. More; they had secretly harbored in the
+house one of their relatives who had lost her place for disreputable
+conduct: in short, Mrs. Jellaby's household would have been a paradise
+in comparison with this one. What did Hannah do? She left for ever the
+home of her life: she _ran away_! A house was secretly taken at Clifton,
+and after she had fled the servants received a quarter's wages in
+advance with immediate dismissal. It must be said for Mrs. More that
+during her sisters' lifetime she had had nothing to do with the
+housekeeping; further, she was in very ill health, and had not been down
+stairs for seven years; but, with all the palliations that may be
+offered, is it not startling to find that this woman's influence had
+pervaded the civilized world with the exception of that little corner of
+it which was to be found under her own roof? This incident, together
+with the quarrel with Lactilla, suggests that Mrs. More did not exert
+_personally_ a very strong influence. In regard to her servants she
+relied upon the deathbed harangue with which Mrs. Martha had consigned
+her to their care, and her confidence was kept up by the texts of
+Scripture which they each night carefully repeated to her before
+retiring to eat her game.
+
+In the heyday of Hannah More's popularity there were living in Bristol
+or its vicinity three young men who were to bring in the new literary
+epoch by which Hannah has been forgotten--Coleridge, Southey and
+Wordsworth. Both Southey and Coleridge were introduced to Mrs. More by
+Cottle. Southey was invited to pass a day at Cowslip Green: he pleased
+equally all five of the sisters, and Hannah pronounced him "one of the
+most elegant and intellectual young men they had seen." In 1814, Cottle
+conferred a like favor on Coleridge: they went down to Barley Wood,
+where for the space of two hours Coleridge delighted the five-leaved
+clover with his brilliant talk, but, unluckily, a titled visitor coming
+in, the poor philosopher was left to finish his soliloquy alone.
+
+Southey was born in Bristol, at No. 9 Wine street, now the sign of the
+Golden Key. His father, a draper, carried on his business under the sign
+of a hare: although all his life a shopkeeper, he had been brought up in
+the country, and was passionately fond of country sports. He related of
+his first experience of city life in London that, happening to look out
+at the shop-door just as a porter was passing with a hare in his hands,
+it brought the country so vividly before him that he burst into tears,
+and the impression was so lasting that years after, when opening a shop
+in Bristol, he took the hare for a sign, having it painted on a pane in
+the window on each side of the door and printed on the shop-bills. Of
+Robert Southey's recollections of Bristol there is his own very charming
+account in the first volume of his _Life_ by his son.
+
+We return to Pope's letter to Mrs. Martha Blount for his description of
+Clifton: "Passing still along by the river, you come to a rocky way on
+one side, overlooking green hills on the other: on that rocky way rise
+several white houses, and over them red rocks; and as you go farther
+more rocks above rocks, mixed with green bushes, and of different
+colored stone. This, at a mile's end, terminates in the house of the Hot
+Well, whereabouts lie several pretty lodging-houses, open to the river
+with walks of trees. When you have seen the hills seem to shut upon you
+and to stop any farther way, you go into the house, and looking out at
+the back door, a vast rock of an hundred feet high, of red, white,
+green, blue and yellowish marbles, all blotched and variegated, strikes
+you quite in the face; and, turning on the left, there opens the river
+at a vast depth below, winding in and out, and accompanied on both sides
+with a continued range of rocks up to the clouds, of an hundred colors,
+one behind another, and so to the end of the prospect, quite to the sea.
+But the sea nor the Severn you do not see: the rocks and river fill the
+eye, and terminate the view much like the broken scenes behind one
+another in a play-house.
+
+"Upon the top of those high rocks by the Hot Well, which I have
+described to you, there runs on one side a large down of fine turf for
+about three miles. It looks too frightful to approach the brink and look
+down upon the river; but in many parts of this down the valleys descend
+gently, and you see all along the windings of the stream and the opening
+of the rocks, which turns close in upon you from space to space for
+several miles in toward the sea. There is first, near Bristol, a little
+village upon this down called Clifton, where are very pretty
+lodging-houses, overlooking all the woody hills, and steep cliffs and
+very green valleys within half a mile of the Wells, where in the summer
+it must be delicious walking and riding, for the plain extends, one way,
+many miles: particularly, there is a tower that stands close at the edge
+of the highest rock, and sees the stream turn quite round it; and all
+the banks, one way, are wooded in a gentle slope for near a mile high,
+quite green; the other bank all inaccessible rock, of an hundred colors
+and odd shapes, some hundred feet perpendicular."
+
+[Illustration: SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT CLIFTON.]
+
+The reputation of the Hot Well, whose waters Pope was sent to drink, has
+utterly collapsed. The Hot Well house was long ago removed to admit a
+widening of the river, and the well itself is now inaccessible. There is
+no spa, once of great reputation, that has sunk into such complete
+oblivion as the Clifton Hot Well: this may be due, in part, to the
+exaggerated estimate that was formed of the virtue of the water, and to
+the blamable practice which prevailed of sending patients here at their
+last gasp as a forlorn hope. Of too many it might be said as in these
+lines from the epitaph on his wife by the poet Mason in Bristol
+cathedral:
+
+    To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care
+    Her faded form: she bowed to taste the wave,
+    And died.
+
+The little village of Clifton has now become a handsome suburb, where
+reside the wealthy successors of the merchant-venturers of Bristol. It
+is continuous with Bristol, and where the one begins or the other ends
+is not evident except to the parish authorities. The downs are what they
+were in Pope's time, with the exception of what is now their most
+striking feature--the suspension bridge across the chasm. As early as
+1753, Mr. Vick, an alderman of Bristol, bequeathed one thousand pounds,
+to be kept at interest until they should reach ten thousand, when the
+amount was to be expended upon a stone bridge across the Avon. Nearly
+eighty years after, in 1830, the fund had reached eight thousand pounds,
+and it was determined to form a company to push forward the project: a
+plan for a suspension bridge by Mr. Brunel was accepted at an estimated
+cost of fifty-seven thousand pounds, and subscriptions were vigorously
+solicited. On the 27th of August, 1836, the foundation-stone was laid in
+the presence of the members of the British Association for the
+Advancement of Science, then holding its sixth annual meeting in
+Bristol. The work went on slowly for seven years, at the end of which it
+was abandoned for want of funds, forty-five thousand pounds having been
+expended, including the legacy of eight thousand. For nearly twenty
+years the towers and abutments stood, unsightly objects in a lovely
+scene, until in 1860 the Hungerford suspension bridge in London was
+taken down, and it was found that its chains might be made use of to
+carry out the uncompleted plan at Clifton. A new company was formed
+with a capital of thirty-five thousand pounds, in ten-pound shares, and
+at length, in December, 1864, the bridge was thrown open to the public.
+Its span is seven hundred and two feet; height from low water, two
+hundred and eighty-seven feet. An inscription on one of the piers thus
+epitomizes its story: "Suspensa vix via fit."
+
+There are many reflections which may be called up by a glance over the
+brink of the chasm at Clifton. Down this muddy ditch dropped the little
+Matthew, with the Cabots in command, bound for the discovery of America;
+borne on the surface of this liquid mud, the Great Western (built at
+Bristol) found its way to the sea and demonstrated the practicability of
+steam traffic with America; and if you ask why Bristol now has so little
+share in that traffic, although reasons as plenty as blackberries will
+be showered upon you, perhaps you will find as convincing a reason as
+any in the sight of this narrow and tortuous channel. Now, at last,
+docks are being built at the mouth of the Avon, and one adapted to the
+largest vessels was opened on the 24th of February, 1877. The prospects
+of present success cannot be brilliant in the prevalent depression of
+the Atlantic trade, yet, to have heard the wild talk in February, one
+would have thought that the dock had only to open its mouth (or gate) to
+have the great plums of trade at once fall into it. The company is too
+wise to expect to catch birds simply by hanging out a cage: every one
+waits to see what _bait_ they will offer. It is claimed that the passage
+from New York to Avonmouth may be made in a day less than to the Mersey,
+and mails and passengers forwarded thence to London in three hours. May
+we soon have the pleasure of welcoming American friends on Avonmouth
+Dock!
+
+ALFRED S. GIBBS.
+
+
+
+
+AN ATELIER DES DAMES.
+
+[Illustration: TABLEAU VIVANT.]
+
+
+After years of patient endeavor, of hope deferred and heart oftentimes
+made sick, Paletta found herself at last in Paris. Behind her were years
+of anxious calculations and shabby economies, a chequered pathway of
+brilliant ambitions and sombre discouragements. Before her was another
+vista of several years of art-study in the great capital--a vista
+arched, she could not but know, by as heavy clouds as had ever darkened
+her path. Yet she _felt_, even although she could not see its end, that
+the forward vista climbed ever upward toward glorious heights, upon
+which the storms of despair never beat, and where she could more nearly
+touch upon the divine ideals that ever elude the grasp of even the
+loftiest of earth's climbers.
+
+And thus she was content. Paletta was yet a little young, it must be
+said, yet in that blessed youthfulness when the loins are girded with
+the strength that reduces mountains to molehills and forces the Apollyon
+of dismay to flee from out every dark valley.
+
+Behold Paletta--twenty-three years of age, with a winy color upon her
+lips, the faintest perceptible shadow of fading upon the roses of her
+cheeks, a little anxious wrinkle between her earnest gray eyes, a slight
+nasal twang in her New England voice, and a fresh flounce upon her old
+black alpaca dress--the first morning of her experience in an _atelier
+des dames_ in Paris! She had come down the hill from her dark little
+room on Montmartre, fancying that the gray December day was crystalline,
+that the dingy Rue Germain Pillon--with its dirty gamins of both sexes
+in cropped hair and blouses or white caps and black gowns, its frowsy
+women slouching in doorways, its succession of odorous _cuisines
+bourgeoises_, vile-smelling _lavoirs_, cheap fruit-shops and plebeian
+_cr�meries_, its slimy cobblestones, its gutters running _not_ with
+laughing waters, and sending up scents _not_ of spicy isles ensphered
+by sun-illumined seas--was a rainbow arch over which she passed with
+airy tread toward the Krug studio. For had she not at last finished for
+ever the detestable photograph-coloring which had been a daily
+crucifixion of all her artistic feelings for years? Had she not at last
+reached the Enchanted Land for which she had labored and pined for half
+her life? Had she not clothes enough to last her with patient mendings
+and persistent remakings for two years? Had she not a thousand dollars
+at the Cr�dit Lyonnais? And did not that stately entrance before her
+lead into a spacious courtyard, and that courtyard open upon the famous
+_Atelier des Dames_, where, at the feet of celebrated masters of form
+and color, she was to learn some of the mysteries of the art to which
+she had vowed her life?
+
+[Illustration: "JE VIEN ME PROPOSER COMME MOD�LE, MESDAMES."]
+
+Within the court, before the handsome building whose story after story
+of immense north windows showed it to be a collection of artists'
+studios, she found an interesting _tableau vivant_. A group of
+chattering models came laughing across the sunny court. In one corner
+loomed a huge square object surmounted by the conical crown of a
+Tyrolean hat. Nothing else was visible except a pair of gaitered feet
+mixed among the legs of a sketching-easel, making the whole seem some
+queer phenomenal creature which science had not yet classified or named.
+Before this phenomenon stood--or rather fidgeted--a beautiful Arabian
+horse with flashing eyes, and limbs clean cut as if by Doric chisel in
+marble of Pentelicus. This superb animal was held by two grooms, one at
+his head, the other holding first one foot, then another, as the order
+to pose the unwilling model fractionally in the attitude of a prancing,
+curveting Bucephalus came from the square, five-legged, unnamed creature
+in the corner.
+
+"Ah!" thought Paletta as she followed her shadow over the sunny
+pavement, "the famous animal-painter Jacques is behind that great square
+canvas, I know, for I saw him there yesterday painting a struggling
+sheep."
+
+The large room was closely packed with easels--so closely, indeed, that
+an inadvertent motion of hand or foot often sent a wave of excitement
+through the whole atelier. Heads of every color, from youthful flaxen to
+venerable gray, were bent over their labors. Hecubas and Helens worked
+side by side; maulsticks everywhere gave the scene the appearance of a
+winter-denuded thicket; plaster hands, feet and torsos hung upon the
+walls; bull-headed Nero swelled upon a shelf beside the mutilated Venus
+which is a revelation of the glory that merely human beauty can attain
+without a gleam borrowed from the divine; fat Vitellius seemed to snore
+open-eyed beside lean and wakeful Julius C�sar; a mask of Medusa leaned
+lovingly upon the shoulder of Dante; Apollo Belvedere smiled upon an
+_�corch�_--in atelier parlance "skun man;" finished and unfinished
+studies of heads, bodies and detached sections of bodies hung from nails
+in every possible and impossible place. Upon a slightly elevated
+platform sat the model in his usual street-costume, with oily hair,
+parted in the middle, falling in long waves upon his shoulders. A spiky
+circle rested upon his brow, and upon his face was such a stupendous yet
+futile effort after an expression of divine sweetness and resignation as
+caused maulsticks to separate themselves every now and then from the
+denuded thicket and to wabble vaguely about his mouth or play wildly in
+his hair, accompanied by the commands, "Posez la bouche!" "Posez les
+yeux!" or, in good American accents, accompanied with a sniff of wrath,
+"Call _him_ a good Christ? Umph! He'd pose better as a first-class
+Cheshire cat."
+
+[Illustration: "THE BEST CHRIST IN PARIS."]
+
+The model's divine smile broadened suddenly into a very human grin.
+
+"Do you understand English, monsieur?" demanded Miss New Haven
+suspiciously, remembering the freedom with which the personal merits and
+defects of the French and Italian models were usually discussed in their
+presence in the Anglo-Saxon tongue.
+
+"A leetle, mademoiselle: I have lived in Londres during two years."
+
+"As artists' model?"
+
+"Oui, mademoiselle. I have made the Jesuses, the St. Johns and the
+Judases for the great English artists teel I have ennuied myself
+�normement."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because ze artists Anglaise are ze masters vairy difficile, not comme
+les artists Fran�ais. Zey demand zat ze model pose during two hours sans
+repose, and zey nevvair give of to drink to ze model."
+
+"Did you return to Paris when you ennuied yourself so �normement?" asked
+a yellow-haired English girl who had painted countless vaporous and
+ravishing Eurydices and filmy Echoes from broad-waisted, pug-nosed
+Cockney models, and who always declared that she would recognize a
+"professional" even among the shining hosts of heaven.
+
+"Non, mademoiselle. I rested at Londres to make la musique."
+
+"The music?"
+
+"Comme �a;" and the Italian made sundry rotary motions of the arm, as if
+grinding an invisible hand-organ.
+
+[Illustration: THE ELDER SWEDE AND ARAMINTA SHODDY.]
+
+"Did you earn more money with the music or as model?" asked Mademoiselle
+�milie, the girl-artist from Madrid, with black hair dyed golden, who
+always swore by Murillo's Virgins, and who did her work dreamily, as if
+the motions of her hands were timed to the languorous rhythm of some
+far-off, daintily-touched guitar beneath vine-wreathed balcony and
+starlit sky.
+
+"In Londres I gained more money as musician. In Angleterre zere is not
+mooch love of ze Christ, ze St. John and ze Judas. It is not a Catholic
+country, comme la France, and ze Anglaises aime bettaire ze gods of ze
+old Greek hommes. In la France zey aime ze true religion, and I gain
+mooch money, and am in ze Salon many times evairy year, because I am ze
+best Christ in Paris."
+
+A wail swept up from French, American, English, Swedish, Spanish,
+Norwegian, Russian and West Indian bosoms.
+
+"_We'll_ embrace the religion and the gods of the old Greek hommes then,
+or throw ourselves into the profoundest gulfs of infidelity, while we
+remain in Paris," ejaculated Bostonia in a vigorous stage-aside.
+
+"Have you a wife?" asked Madame Deschamps, a fashionable
+portrait-painter.
+
+"Oui, madame. Ma femme is Lucreza, whom you _know_. She has made the
+nymphs and goddesses for a _thousand_ pictures, but now she is so much
+fat that the messieurs will have her only for the head, although she
+still poses for the _ensemble_ in the ateliers des dames."
+
+Here the best Christ in Paris grinned satanically as a polyglot howl
+went up from among the students.
+
+"That's his tit for the tat of the 'Cheshire cat,'" laughed Madame
+Lafarge, a French-American Corinne with an all-French moustache.
+
+"We won't have Lucreza again if she is too fat to pose for the nude
+except in a _ladies'_ studio," snapped the elder Swede.
+
+"Oh, I have forgotten to say zat she has upset ze pail since eight
+days," chuckled the man.
+
+"Upset the pail?" And twenty pairs of eyes looked full of
+interrogation-points.
+
+"Giggle! giggle! giggle!" came sputteringly from behind Concordia's
+easel as she gasped, "Don't you understand? He has improved his English
+among the Americans in G�r�me's studio, and he means she kicked the
+bucket eight days ago."
+
+"Quelle langue! quelle _langue est la langue_ Am�ricaine!" sniffed the
+elder Swede, wiping off a brushful of "turps" in her back hair.
+
+Paletta twisted her head so as to peer through the forest of easels at
+the last speaker.
+
+"What daubs _she_ must make!" she thought, gazing at spectacled green
+eyes and hay-colored hair _� la Chinoise_ with her fixed idea that "an
+artistic nature always wrought a semblance of its own beauty upon its
+outward form."
+
+"What _was_ the Greek religion?" questioned a girlish voice.
+
+Paletta twisted her neck again. "What _lovely_ ideals must blossom upon
+_her_ _canvases_!" she thought as she saw a fair vision of rose-tints,
+creamy texture and sculptured lines ensphered in a halo of golden hair.
+
+"Who is that poor woman who has so mistaken her vocation?" she asked
+with compassionate gesture toward the coiffure _� la Chinoise_.
+
+"That? Oh, that's the celebrated Swedish artist, Miss Thingumbobbia, of
+whom you have heard, of course. She returns to Stockholm next week to
+paint the king's portrait. Mon Dieu! but I would give all my hair for
+the genius of her little finger!" answered pretty Mademoiselle Hubert,
+scraping her palette viciously, as if it were responsible for her
+artistic inferiority to the gifted Thingumbobbia.
+
+"O-o-o-h!" gasped Paletta. "But who is the sweet creature with golden
+hair, who looks infused with fair ideals to her very finger-tips?"
+
+[Illustration: AN AMIABLE MADONNA!]
+
+"She? Oh, she's Miss Araminta Shoddy from Michigan Avenue, Chicago, who
+is finishing her education in Paris. She comes here twice a week for
+drawing-lessons from the antique, and also in pursuit of general
+information, I should think, judging from her questions. Only yesterday
+she said, 'Ladies, who can tell me the costume of the Venus de Melos? I
+have an idea that it would be stunning for my next fancy-dress ball!'"
+
+"Ladies," cried Miss San Francisco, invisible among the easels, "has
+Professor Manley given out the subject of our composition for next
+week?"
+
+"Yes," answered a dozen voices--"'The Flight into Egypt.'"
+
+"Oh, Miss Shoddy, Miss Shoddy, _will_ you pose for my Virgin Mother?"
+cried another dozen.
+
+[Illustration: THE MORNING LESSON.]
+
+[Illustration: "HE'S GONE, GIRLS!"]
+
+"Oh, Mees Shoddy, if you will pose for my Madonna I will pose for
+yours," echoed the Raphaelesque Thingumbobbia.
+
+Just before noon the forest of easels swayed slightly beneath a breeze
+of excitement. A masculine step was heard at the door. The model's
+expression became if not divine, at least superhuman. The ladies ceased
+their chatter, and plied their brushes and crayons with increased
+diligence. The morning professor entered, and passed from easel to
+easel, commending this, criticising that, rebuking something else,
+making a few touches of the brush upon several canvases, crossing others
+with a network of charcoal-lines to prove inaccuracy of drawing,
+distributed _tr�s biens_ and _pas mals_ judiciously, and then with a
+pleasant "Bon jour, mesdames," passed away, leaving behind him about an
+equal measure of delight and dismay.
+
+[Illustration: "H-E-A-VENLY CHEESE FOR A FRANC A POUND?"]
+
+"I hope his bed-clothes will always come up at the foot!" growled
+Austina, whose canvas looked like a map of a humming-bird's flight done
+in charcoal.
+
+"Let's all subscribe and buy The Angel a bouquet for Christmas," gushed
+enthusiastically the British blonde Godsalina, upon whom one of the _pas
+mals_ had fallen, and who had the true faith of her nation in the
+efficacy of "tips" for sovereign or beggar.
+
+[Illustration: "JE SUIS � VOUS."]
+
+Then the model stretched his legs, returned to his normal and carnal
+expression of countenance, and disappeared to return no more till the
+morrow, leaving the platform vacant awaiting the nude female model who
+was engaged for the afternoon. The atelier was abandoned to Sophie, the
+_femme de m�nage_, who stirred the fires, gathered stray brushes from
+the floor, changed the background drapery for the afternoon model,
+rearranged the easels into afternoon position, and brought out glasses
+and plates for the ladies, who lunched in the anteroom. And then a
+looker-on in a Parisian atelier des dames would readily have understood
+the words, "He's gone, girls!" even were that looker-on deafer than the
+deafest old woman who ever mistook a thunder-clap for one of her lord's
+champion snores. In the anteroom conversation ran during lunch in
+various channels. Some of the ladies discussed the ever-absorbing topic
+of the price of living, and boasted of marvellous exploits in the way of
+economy. Other and fewer students, to whom money was as the dust upon
+the bust of Pallas over the studio-door, talked of the last "first
+representations" at the Fran�ais, of Croisette's rapidly amplifying
+figure, of Sarah Bernhardt's unnecessary immodesty in dressing Racine's
+Andromaque, of the Grant reception at Healy's, of Lefevre's slipperiness
+of texture, of the lack of the true sentiment of piety in Bouguereau's
+religious pictures, of the harum-scarum amusements among the Americans
+at Bonn�t's atelier, and the latest gossip of the private studios.
+
+[Illustration: SATURDAY EVE.]
+
+"Want to know where you can buy just _h-e-a-venly_ cheese for a franc a
+pound?" mumbles young Madame New Jersey with her mouth full of Gruy�re.
+
+"Where?" from several excited listeners.
+
+"Over in the Latin Quarter, close by the Rue Jacob Brasserie, where so
+many American students hold daily symposia."
+
+"I'll go and buy a quarter of a pound this very evening," said Miss
+Providence energetically.
+
+"I too! I too! et moi aussi!" cried others of the many who lived _� la
+Boh�mienne_ in lofty mansards of _maisons meubl�es_, dining at cheap
+restaurants, breakfasting by aid of spirit-lamps from corners of
+dressing-tables and lunching on _charcuterie_ in the anteroom of the
+Krug studio, searching high and low for "cheapness" as for a pearl of
+great price.
+
+"And pay twelve sous for your omnibus fare!" cried the practical little
+Illinois maiden, Dixonia.
+
+"Je suis � vous, mesdames," said the favorite model, Alphonse, at the
+door.
+
+"Alas, sweet Adonis! we have engaged our people for the next three
+weeks."
+
+"And I am desol�, mesdames, that you have not want of me;" and the
+graceful Alphonse melted away like a snow-wreath in a south wind.
+
+At one o'clock came the sallow Frenchwoman, with the face of a Gorgon
+and the figure of a Juno, who posed for the _ensemble_. She stood
+against the dark crimson background, outlined pure and white like a
+marvel of Phidian sculpture upon which the Spirit of Life had slightly
+breathed. So still, so white, so coldly, purely statuesque she seemed,
+that one sometimes entirely forgot that she was else than the fair
+statue born from the block of marble at the command of a divine genius,
+till the chiselled arms were seen to quiver and the sculptured knees to
+almost bend. Then a reproachful cry ran through the atelier: "Shame!
+shame! We have forgotten that she was a woman and not a statue, and
+have kept her posing two hours without a repose."
+
+"How much do you earn by this wearisome business?" asked Paletta
+pityingly as the tired model, wrapped in a threadbare waterproof,
+cowered over the stove during "the repose."
+
+"If I pose for a half day of each week like this in an atelier des
+dames, I earn twenty-five francs a week, but what I earn by posing for
+artists in private studios depends much upon chance. Sometimes I am
+needed only for a leg or arm or bust, or even hand: then I earn less of
+course, for it makes broken hours. I would demand much more from the
+ateliers des dames had I a handsome face, but always my ensemble is
+painted with the head of a prettier model where there is any purpose of
+using me in a picture."
+
+"Do you become often as fatigued as you are now?" continued Paletta.
+
+"Often more so. I have posed for nearly an hour upon one foot with
+extended arms in a dance of bacchantes, till I have fainted. Oftentimes
+I am kept in a running position upon one foot, with the other far behind
+me, in Atalanta's race; sometimes suspended by cords from the ceiling,
+with arms and legs in horribly uncomfortable positions, till everything
+seems to spin before me."
+
+"Do you dislike to pose for male artists?" asked Paletta.
+
+"Dislike? Why should I with so fine a figure as this?" answered the
+woman, throwing off her cloak to resume her pose. "I'd like it better if
+I had a handsome face, but I'd like it much worse if I had flabby flesh
+or buniony feet."
+
+Paletta saw that no question of modesty entered the model's mind, and
+she went back to her easel to paint the rounded limbs and marble
+huelessness of fair Dian, chastest of all Olympia's deities, wondering
+if, after all, what is called modesty does not come as much of habit as
+of nature--if the veiled face of the Oriental is not as immodest as the
+unclothedness of the artist's model.
+
+MARGARET B. WRIGHT.
+
+
+
+
+"AUF DEM HEIMWEG."
+
+
+    Thy light streams far, thou gladdening star,
+      O'er vale and forest, tower and town:
+    From land and sea men look to thee,
+      In every clime, as night comes down.
+    But ah! were all the eyes that mark
+      Thy rising, closed in endless dark,
+    Undimmed would glitter still
+      Thy bright unpitying spark!
+
+    I heed thee not. In yonder cot,
+      As home I haste, from toil set free,
+    Through dusk and damp the casement-lamp
+      Shines clear across the fields for me.
+    Dear light! dear heart! how well I know,
+    If bitter Death should lay me low,
+      Dark would that casement be,
+    And quenched your winsome glow!
+
+MARY KEELY BOUTELLE.
+
+
+
+
+THROUGH WINDING WAYS.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+"I can't reach it," declared Georgy. "You boys are all growing so tall
+that a girl has to mount on stilts in order to go about with you."
+
+"I will find a log," said I, looking about us.
+
+"Come!" struck in Jack Holt, laughing, "make a footstool of me, Georgy;"
+and without another word he flung himself flat on his face. She was
+never loath to put her foot upon any of our necks, figuratively
+speaking, and now, with a burst of laughter, she took Jack at his word,
+and planting herself on his shoulders peered down through the coils of
+Virginia creeper into the cunningly devised bird's nest in the hollow of
+an oak tree. There were five delicately tinted eggs, and she tried in
+vain to squeeze her slim hand through the aperture and possess herself
+of them.
+
+"Getting tired, Jack?" she asked presently.
+
+"No," he answered, his face still kissing the moss: "I don't tire so
+easily in your service, Georgy."
+
+I felt rather bitter against them both. I would have died to serve this
+girl, I told myself, yet such an opportunity left me dull and cold. I
+was always dreaming of doughty deeds to please her, yet if she dropped
+her handkerchief I could hardly stoop to pick it up.
+
+"Oh, get up, Jack!" cried Harry Dart, whose lip had been curling in
+angry scorn as he watched the performance: "you are by far too good to
+be trodden under foot by any girl, let alone Georgy Lenox."
+
+Georgy tripped down from her temporary throne and made Harry a little
+courtesy. "Do you mean to say that you would not be glad to be trodden
+under foot by Georgy Lenox?" she asked, laughing and tossing her curls.
+
+He gave a contemptuous shrug: "Wait until I give you an opportunity.
+Floyd and I don't make fools of ourselves for any girls."
+
+"Come, come, Harry!" said Jack, who had risen from the ground and was
+now wiping off the earth-stains from his clothes, "don't spoil our day
+by being disagreeable.--Shall we go on, Georgy?" He gave her a peculiar
+glance in which there was less of humility than gentle command, and she
+sprang after him and put her hand within his arm. He did not serve her
+for rewards as yet, and was used to as many blows as smiles, and this
+was a rare condescension on her part.
+
+Georgy was fifteen--of the same age as Harry, but considerably younger
+than Jack, who was two years older than his cousin, while I was the
+youngest of the three. We had been playmates all our lives, and had each
+of us found in Georgy Lenox the only girl-friend of our boyhood. She had
+been a beauty from her infancy, and her wiles had grown with her growth
+and strengthened with her strength; and now her myriad tricks of
+mischief, caprice and cruelty were too closely identified with what was
+most bewitching in her not to have become additional charms for us. In
+those days, while we were still hobbledehoys, she pleased us the more
+that she had, with the precocity of her sex, quite outstripped us where
+all subtle social forces are concerned. Although she could be a hoyden
+still, it was quite as easy for her to assume the part of an elegant
+young lady, equipped for society with charming manners, a fastidious
+taste and indifferent ease. We occasionally laughed at her airs, but
+inwardly admired her superb assumptions of careless superiority: had she
+become timid, docile, admiring toward us, I dare say her reign would not
+have lasted the day out.
+
+Harry flung his arm about me, and we followed Jack and Georgy deeper and
+deeper into the wood. It was the last Saturday in May, and the fairest
+day of the year. The thickets were full of mysterious sounds, and one
+could almost feel the beating of the delicate pulses of the springing,
+expanding life about us. I knew all the secrets of this forest, and
+loved no place half so well in Belfield outside of my own home. Nature,
+too, seemed tenderer of it than of other wildnesses, and had set the
+seal of her choice upon it with every gift of fern and vine and moss and
+lichen. No axe had invaded these solitudes for years except to prune
+away a too riotous undergrowth along the cart-path: the trees grew in
+grand natural aisles, and to look through the noble colonnade into
+mysterious vistas of copsewood gloom and stillness was for me to thrill
+with that blissful agony of youthful emotion which is our first
+premonition of the unreachable secret that underlies the universe.
+
+"Did you ever think," said Harry to me earnestly, "that you would like
+to leave the world behind you for ever and live altogether in the woods,
+with only the trees and birds for company?"
+
+But, dearly although I loved the woods, I could not answer him that I
+should be willing to resign my home, my mother, my friends and social
+joys for the life of a hermit.
+
+"It's pleasant to see people," I suggested.
+
+"I'm not sure of that," Harry rejoined with sudden misanthropy. "See
+what a hard world it is! I feel to-day like Achilles in his tent."
+
+"But I don't like Achilles: he was only sullen because he had lost
+Briseis. Surely, Harry, you don't mind it that Georgy has gone on with
+Jack?"
+
+Harry laughed loud and long: "That would be a good joke! As if I cared
+for Georgy Lenox! But it does make me angry to see Jack so taken up with
+her. Did you see her new shoes?"
+
+There could be no question of that.
+
+"Jack bought them for her," said Harry with angry emphasis. "He spends
+all his money on her, and I think it is a shame. She told him at first
+she could not come to-day, because she had nothing to wear on her feet
+except thin slippers. What does Jack do but post off to John Edwards and
+buy her a pair of boots at once!" He paused a moment, then burst out:
+"Just look at them!"
+
+Georgy had flung her flowers at Jack, and having jumped across the
+little brook which meandered through the wood, now nodded at him
+defiantly, tossing her long curls, while her eyes sparkled and her color
+rose. He too sprang over the stream, with pretended anger, and she gave
+a little shriek and flew down the path, with him in pursuit. Jack was
+clumsy and not built for speed, while Georgy had the spring of a fawn;
+but I suspect she was willing to be caught, for when we next gained a
+glimpse of them she was sitting on a stump fanning herself with her
+broad-brimmed hat, which had fallen off, while he was leaning against a
+tree looking at her.
+
+"He has kissed her--I know he has," Harry whispered to me with a bitter
+look. "I would die before I would kiss her when she behaved like that!"
+
+I was in a sort of tremor. I was too young to be in love in the ordinary
+sense of the phrase, but I was aghast at the thought of the bloom of her
+cheeks and lips being plucked like roses in a hedgerow. She was precious
+to my imagination, yet, for all her every-day reality, scarcely nearer
+to my aspirations than Lady Edith Plantagenet or Ellen, Lady of the
+Lake.
+
+"I don't care," muttered Harry doggedly--"I don't care. I dare say he
+means to marry her when he grows up, but I don't care."
+
+"Floyd," called out Georgy, "can't you show me another bird's nest?"
+
+Now I knew at least a hundred birds' nests in these woods. All Wednesday
+afternoon I had nestled here in the thickets and watched the little
+builders hopping from moss to bough and twig, and had learned all their
+secrets. I knew that by the great rock just behind where she was sitting
+was a ledge with shelving sides overhung with moss, and that there, so
+cunningly wrought and hidden that none but a trained eye could ever have
+discovered it, was an exquisite nest formed of lichens. Half ashamed of
+disclosing such a sacred confidence, I led Georgy up to it. Last
+Wednesday it was barely finished: now there were three eggs in it. It
+was a wood-pewee's nest, and while I let her peep the mother-bird flew
+toward us with a shrill pathetic cry.
+
+"Hush, you horrid thing!" cried Georgy to the alarmed bird, that circled
+about us with cries growing every moment more piercing.--"Is not that
+perfectly sweet? I never saw anything prettier."
+
+I had only consented that she should give one glance, and I now tried to
+coax her away; but nothing would content her but to hold two of the eggs
+in her hand, and while she held them her foot slipped and they fell to
+the ground, and she trod upon them.
+
+"Oh, Georgy!" I cried angrily, "that is too horribly careless of you: I
+cannot forgive you."
+
+"The idea!" she returned, laughing. "Do look at him, boys!--as white as
+a ghost just because I broke those wretched eggs! Look at that furious
+little bird! I declare it is ready to peck my eyes out! There, madam!
+now you may go to work and lay some more eggs;" and she took the sole
+remaining egg from the nest and flung it with wanton cruelty into the
+thicket.
+
+I was cut to the heart. Both Jack and Harry came up to me, but I shook
+them off and sat down upon a fallen trunk, and would not say a word in
+answer to their inquiries or consolations. Presently they wandered down
+the woods together, and left me there alone. The owners of the despoiled
+nest kept up a loud, emphatic chirping for a time, which drew all the
+other birds to discover its cause. I felt as if they looked at me with
+wonder and resentment in their innocent eyes. But after a time the
+tumult of sorrow passed and the usual forest sounds returned: the whir
+of partridge-wings smote the air, and I heard the tender coo of the
+mother-hen; then the wind rose and blew through the tree-tops, and the
+blossoming boughs moved restlessly, no longer filtering green sunshine
+through their transparent leaves, but disclosing a gathering storm in
+the glimpses I gained of the sky above. I knew a short cut through the
+wood which led to the hill at the back of my mother's house, and when I
+heard Harry's voice calling me I sprang like a deer into the covert, and
+before the rain came had reached home.
+
+Georgy's wanton cruelty had wounded me deeply, but my allegiance to our
+girl-queen was not easily thrown off; and seizing an umbrella I flew
+back to the woods to offer it to Georgy, who received it kindly, glad of
+shelter from the sudden shower. I was as proud of her smile and
+good-natured thanks as a dog is proud of his master's scant caress after
+a sound beating.
+
+The fair May day ended in rain, and, as usual on Saturdays, my three
+mates finished the afternoon with me. Jack took his books and went
+sturdily at his Greek; Harry drew pictures by the dozen; Georgy was
+reading _Queechy,_ nestled in my mother's chair by the bay-window; and I
+was deep in one of the _Waverley_ novels. Banners streamed, bugles blew,
+spears gleamed, knights jostled in my world. Oh for a wet afternoon
+again like that twenty-five years ago, with the monotonous patter of
+rain in my ears, to go back to Coeur de Lion and Edith and Saladin! And
+not alone the time and the books, and the old high heart with the old
+longings and resolves, and the old fearless eyes to look out upon the
+world, but the old companions as well, with their glorious boy-faces,
+untouched then by any imprint of the base emotions and aims sure almost,
+a little later, to enter in and defile! The rain pattered ceaselessly;
+the heavy scent of the lilacs came in through the open windows; the
+martins screamed about their boxes under the eaves of the stable, and I
+could hear the twitter of innumerable birds; but with the consciousness
+of all this I had no thought except of my rapture for Kenneth when the
+dog sprang at the throat of Conrad.
+
+"Floyd," said Georgy, putting her hand on my arm, "don't you hear the
+door-bell? Ann went out an hour ago."
+
+Our service was not numerous, and if Ann had gone out, as was her wont
+when she found a moment's leisure, there was no one to answer the bell
+but myself. I rose heavily and unwillingly, and walked along the little
+hall, my eyes still glued upon the page, hardly raising them when I
+opened, the door until I saw, instead of some indifferent neighbor, a
+tall gentleman, quite strange to Belfield, who was shutting his dripping
+umbrella. He was very tall, stately, broad-shouldered, with an impassive
+but handsome face, and a glance at once quiet and commanding. He
+regarded me with an amused smile, as if he knew me very well, and
+something about him gradually renewed a sort of recollection in me.
+
+"How do you do?" he asked as I stood squarely in the doorway staring at
+him.
+
+"I am quite well, sir," I returned gravely.
+
+"What is your name?" he inquired, laughing.
+
+"James Floyd Randolph," I answered.
+
+"I am James Floyd," said he. "Suppose you invite me in?"
+
+I led the way silently back to the dull, chilly sitting-room, where Jack
+and Harry still sat at the table, while Georgy was peeping out to catch
+a glimpse of the new arrival. Mr. Floyd, having put his umbrella in the
+rack and taken off his hat and overcoat, followed me, casting a look
+about the room as he entered, as if he missed somebody he expected to
+see.
+
+"My mother is not at home, sir," I observed, sitting down stiffly on the
+edge of a chair: "she has gone to spend the afternoon with a sick lady."
+
+"She will return presently?"
+
+"Oh, she will certainly be at home to tea, sir," I answered; and then,
+remarking that he gave a shrug as he glanced at the wide-open casements,
+I closed both windows, went to the closet, brought wood and kindlings
+and built a fire on the hearth.
+
+"You are a boy of much nice discrimination," remarked Mr. Floyd. "Now
+that you have a temperature not altogether conducive to lumbago, I will
+venture to sit down. Do you know who I am?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir: you are Mr. James Floyd, the gentleman I was named after."
+
+"Has your mother often spoken of me?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir," I said again, and at once observed that his face
+brightened up.
+
+"And who are these young people?" he inquired, apparently noticing the
+group by the table for the first time.
+
+I introduced them, and Mr. Floyd shook hands with Jack, put his hand
+under Harry's chin and looked keenly into his chiselled, beautiful face;
+then gave another glance at Georgy, to whom he had first bowed.
+
+"Miss Lenox?" he repeated. "Any relation of George Lenox?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir: I am his daughter," cried Georgy, blushing and dimpling.
+"I am third cousin to your little girl: Mr. Raymond at The Headlands is
+my great-uncle."
+
+"Yes, of course. How is your father?"
+
+"Papa is pretty well."
+
+"He was first cousin of my wife," said Mr. Floyd, "and I have met him, I
+believe."
+
+The door-bell rang again.
+
+"That is Antonio Thorpe," observed Mr. Floyd--"a young friend of mine
+for whom I want to get board and lodging in Belfield. Can any of you
+recommend a place? He is a lad of eighteen or nineteen, and will
+probably study under your own masters."
+
+"Mamma would be very glad to have a boarder," struck in Georgy
+earnestly. "There is a nice large room for him."
+
+I ushered in the new-comer, a slim fellow of my own height, but looking
+immeasurably older, with a delicate black moustache and a coat which
+fitted in a way to shame anything in Belfield.
+
+"Well, well, Tony!" said Mr. Floyd: "you followed quickly upon my
+footsteps; but all the better, perhaps, as I have already heard of a
+suitable place for you to settle. This young lady, Miss Lenox, thinks
+her mother may be able to accommodate you: perhaps she will be good
+enough to take you home now and introduce you, referring her family to
+me."
+
+Thorpe bowed with a very finished air, and presently was walking off in
+the rain with Georgy, holding his umbrella over her in a manner truly
+Grandisonian. Harry and Jack also went away, and I was left alone with
+my guardian; for, although I had never seen him since my father's
+funeral eight years before, my guardian I knew him to be. He called me
+up to him, flung his arm over my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "My
+dear boy!" said he in a kind voice, and kissed me on the forehead. "You
+remember me a little, don't you?" he asked.
+
+"I remember you now very well: at first it seemed all gone from me."
+
+"No wonder. I have been in Europe eight years. My little girl is ten
+years old, and had never seen me since she was the merest baby. She was
+afraid of me at first."
+
+But not for long, I was sure of that: nobody, man, woman or child, could
+look into his face and not love and trust him.
+
+"I want to see your mother," he exclaimed with a sudden flash of
+expression over his tranquil face. "Your mother is all that is left to
+me of my youth: I have come back an old man."
+
+I laughed at this, and then we fell to talking of our life in Belfield.
+I was not a loquacious fellow, but something about Mr. Floyd unloosed my
+tongue, and after describing our quiet household ways I spoke freely of
+the Lenoxes and of Jack and Harry. The two boys were cousins, and Harry,
+having neither father nor mother, lived with the Holts, who were the
+rich people of our village. My two friends loved me dearly, but still
+they were more to each other than I could be to either, for they shared
+the same room, ate at the same table, and had grown into an intimacy
+wonderful and rare even among brothers. They were Damon and Pythias,
+Orestes and Pylades; but indeed I doubted if anything in poetry, history
+or tradition had ever equalled this beautiful and complete friendship. I
+could not be jealous of it, because each gave me all I needed; and even
+if, at times, I felt the pang of being a little outside their world, my
+isolation was made sacred to me by the recollection of the brother I had
+lost, in whom some time, somewhere, I should regain everything.
+
+Mr. Floyd had a way of listening which made me yearn to tell him every
+insignificant detail of my life. I knew that he was a man of national
+reputation, but I hardly cared for that, since he was the pleasantest
+companion I had ever met. I found myself gossiping to him about our
+village worthies, making him laugh heartily at their sayings passed into
+tradition and fable among us boys; for our one-eyed shoemaker and our
+corpulent grocer, like many other country wits to fortune and to fame
+unknown, surpassed either Douglas Jerrold or Sydney Smith in quip and
+drollery. And I did not omit George Lenox, for all Belfield except his
+wife was in the secret of his affairs, and they were our crowning joke,
+in which poor George himself joined merrily, although the story was so
+against himself.
+
+"That girl of his is remarkably pretty," said Mr. Floyd. "Is he, then,
+so poor? He was well born, liberally educated, and married in a family
+of high pretensions."
+
+There could be no doubt but what George Lenox had begun better than
+other men, with enough to live on comfortably in city or country,
+provided he did not think too much of the necessity for showing his wife
+that she had not lessened her consequence in marrying him. Nobody could
+accuse poor Mr. Lenox now-a-days of ambition, or blame him if, in those
+early days as now, that terrible woman had frankly regarded him as an
+utter nonentity save in his association with her own destiny. She was a
+handsome woman, with aquiline nose, a thin, firmly-set mouth, piercing
+eyes and a magnificent carriage. She was no longer young when she had
+accepted Mr. Lenox, and by what means she had encompassed his
+subjugation we were never told: he always shook his head when he alluded
+to his courtship. "A fellow is wax in a woman's hands," he had sometimes
+remarked darkly. But after his marriage he had seemed to acquiesce in
+his wife's belief in her high individual value to the world in general
+and himself in particular, and had given her the best of everything.
+Mrs. Lenox knew how to spend money, she had a house in New York and a
+villa in Belfield; she had running accounts with tradesmen; and not only
+gave dinner-parties, balls and receptions, but out-dressed her circle
+with a sort of gorgeous superfluity which made her intimates experience
+the ignominy of their inferiority. Mr. Lenox resigned himself to the
+irresistible current of his wife's will, and if he felt inward doubts
+silenced them as suggestions of morbid distrust in the discretion of a
+woman whom he knew to be virtuous, and whose price was so much above
+rubies that sordid calculations ought not to be mentioned in the same
+breath with her. After a time, however, not even his high faith in the
+necessity of agreeable issues where she was concerned could blind him to
+the fact that he had many debts and but a few thousand dollars. He at
+once invested these thousands in an enterprise which was shortly to make
+all those interested in it millionaires. But if any one made money out
+of it, it was not George Lenox, who suddenly found himself reduced to be
+a pensioner upon his wife, who had twelve thousand dollars invested in
+railway stock. They removed to their little Gothic cottage in Belfield,
+and Mrs. Lenox lost what remained of her beauty, her spirits, her
+temper, but never her ineradicable pride. Within a year her husband had
+taken her railway stock, sold it and invested it in some speculation
+which failed ignominiously, as any schemes of his were sure to do.
+Nothing attracted him which was regulated by average laws of supply
+answering a demand: all his undertakings required a miracle, an upheaval
+of popular ideas, to ensure success. He never told his wife of this
+embezzlement of his: when he lost her property he meditated suicide, and
+merely staved off the evil day by pretending to pay her dividends
+regularly; and for this he twice a year implored the assistance of his
+uncle, Mr. Raymond. The railroad in which Mrs. Lenox had invested was a
+prosperous one, and occasionally declared an additional stock dividend:
+it was on these occasions that the reduced lady lost in a degree her
+usual air of picturesque gloom--that she roused herself to talk about
+her family and the glories of her youth, the �clat and brilliance of her
+position, which she had never lost until after marrying her unfortunate
+husband; and at such times she even regained her courage and made a
+round of visits, dropping glazed and ancient cards, and retaining in her
+feebleness all the traditions of her majesty. But this epoch of her
+revived grandeur was set in painful contrast to poor Lenox's misery. He
+was commissioned to sell the scrip, which, for him, had no existence,
+and thus raise money to deck the family in transient brightness. I fancy
+that at such times, without any waste of rhetoric or balancing of
+expediencies, he was more in love with suicide than Hamlet or Cato, and
+that if it had not been for the sympathy and aid of a golden-haired
+little girl he would have swallowed his death-potion quietly. Georgy was
+his firm ally against her mother, and helped him shrewdly in many a
+close pinch; and his rich uncle, Mr. Raymond (Mr. Floyd's
+father-in-law), rarely refused him provisional aid upon his application,
+although he was wise enough to decline helping him in any of his
+fantastic kite speculations.
+
+"And what sort of a girl is this Miss Georgy?" inquired Mr. Floyd. "Has
+she been injured at all by the somewhat exceptional circumstances of her
+family?"
+
+"Oh no, sir."
+
+"Is she gentle, generous and open in her ways?"
+
+"Gentle, sir--generous?"
+
+"She is remarkably pretty."
+
+I assented eagerly to this observation, and he laughed: "There is no
+doubt in your mind upon that point. If she were in all respects a
+suitable companion for Helen, I would request that she should be invited
+to The Headlands. But Tony will find out what she is made of. He will be
+a new friend for you."
+
+And he told me about this Antonio Thorpe, who had been under his
+guardianship for six years. He was the son of an Englishman who had
+married a Spanish girl in the West Indies: the lad was but twelve years
+old when he was thrown upon the world without parents or near relatives
+or suitable provision for his maintenance. The elder Thorpe had been a
+careless, good-natured person, without any distrust of his fellows, and
+not knowing what to do with his son had thrust him upon Mr. Floyd, who
+had at some trouble and expense looked after his education. He had
+entered college the year before, but his conduct had been a little
+unsatisfactory to the authorities, and his guardian had withdrawn him,
+and now, in some doubt as to the best course to pursue in regard to his
+future, wished him to study for a few months quietly at Belfield.
+
+"Your mother will let him visit here, I trust," he went on. "I think he
+is half a good fellow, and we must forgive the other half, because his
+mother was the proudest, vainest, silliest little Castilian that ever
+lived. Tony has got a good deal to contend against."
+
+But the drawbacks to Thorpe's advancement were not so patent to my mind
+on first acquaintance as his advantages. He had a slight, graceful
+figure, a little under height, but carried himself with the dignity of a
+grandee; his eyes were large, dark and languishing; his complexion was a
+pale olive; while his moustache, black and exquisitely pencilled, was a
+sign of itself of towering superiority above the rest of us callow
+youths. That alone would have filled me with envy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+"Ah," exclaimed Mr. Floyd, starting to his feet, "that is your mother, I
+hope."
+
+I had become too much absorbed in our talk to hear the click of the
+gate, but now I sprang up and rushed to the door, and, seeing my mother
+quietly walking up the path, I ran out bareheaded into the rain.
+
+"Oh, mother," I cried, "you cannot guess who has come to spend Sunday
+with us!"
+
+It seemed to me all at once that some thought of him must have been in
+her mind, for her color came and went. "I hope it is Cousin James," she
+replied calmly.
+
+As I took her umbrella from her hand I could see that she was trembling
+and her lips quivering. I unclasped her cloak and untied her bonnet, and
+took them from her: she ungloved her hands hastily and smoothed her hair
+as she went along the hall. Mr. Floyd stood facing her as she entered
+the sitting-room. "Dear Mary!" said he, and took her in his arms and
+kissed her.
+
+I felt as if I had been struck a heavy blow. I knew that he had been not
+only my father's first cousin, but his nearest and dearest friend as
+well; but, for all that, it was not easy for me to see my mother
+surrendering herself to that caress. But presently, when I saw that she
+was crying, I knew that she was thinking only of my father and her long
+agony of loneliness, and I forgave them both. When she regained her
+calmness she called me to her with a timid smile and a faint blush.
+
+"This is my boy, James," she said, looking up at Mr. Floyd smiling, but
+with the tears still on her cheeks. "He is your godson, you remember,
+and namesake."
+
+"My godson, my namesake, my ward, and my dear friend besides," replied
+Mr. Floyd, throwing his arm heavily over my shoulder. "I know him
+already very well, and I like him more than I can tell you."
+
+That same old thrill of feeling goes over me now like a wave as I write.
+As I stood looking up at him I seemed to grow rich, as if I had suddenly
+come into my kingdom. I continued to stand leaning against him as he sat
+down close beside my mother and talked intimately and freely with her. I
+may have felt a little alien and apart at first, for the days they
+talked of were the days of long ago, before I could remember. Mr.
+Floyd's private personal history had been but one short chapter in his
+long, full and busy life. He was well past thirty before he had married
+Alice Raymond, the only child of a wealthy merchant: she was but
+seventeen when he first saw her and fell in love with her. Few people
+knew whether the twelve short months of his married life were but as a
+dream to him now, eleven years later, or whether his scant allusions to
+that time came from a shy tenderness for a memory which was his dearest
+and most sacred possession. Alice Raymond was but little past eighteen
+when she died, and even the child she left behind her had never really
+belonged to Mr. Floyd, but had grown up at her grandfather's at The
+Headlands while her father had assumed the duties of a mission abroad.
+Life had denied him little of what men seek as objects in a brilliant
+and exciting career; but in listening to him now I felt a certainty that
+he had been a lonely man, and, if not an unhappy one, that his mind was
+tinged at least with a certain melancholy which lay at the root of all
+his impulses.
+
+My mother seemed to have grown younger in meeting him. She was always
+the most beautiful of women to me, with her large, serious brown eyes,
+her wavy brown hair, her complexion pure and delicate as a young girl's;
+and indeed she was but twenty years older than myself, thus at this date
+only thirty-four. But while she talked to Mr. Floyd I observed a change
+in her: her eyes had lost their pensiveness and calm, and fell before
+his shyly: the flushes came and went on her cheeks. He told her again
+and again that in meeting her he found the first realization that he had
+come back to his home: old Mr. Raymond had seemed to be afraid of him,
+and little Helen had cried with terror when he first clasped her in his
+arms and kissed her with unguarded fondness.
+
+"But that was not strange," observed my mother. "Intimate affection is,
+after all, a habit. Now that you have a chance of having your little
+girl always with you, she will very soon grow fond of you."
+
+"Oh, but I have no claim to her. She must stay with Mr. Raymond as long
+as he lives, I suppose. He loved Alice, but he worships Helen. I robbed
+him of his child once almost against his will, and now that he is so old
+a man I could not have the heart to do it again."
+
+"But she is your own daughter!" cried my mother, half indignantly.
+
+"But I made my mistake ten years ago. Just then I only cared for what
+lay beneath a fresh grave at The Headlands: there seemed to be no
+to-morrow for me--no time when I should get used to such sorrow and find
+comfort in any one or anything that took Alice's place. I gave up Helen
+then with absolute indifference: now such coldness seems enigmatical to
+me."
+
+"You ought to have her with you now."
+
+"It could not be. I asked her this morning if she would come with me:
+she burst into a passion of weeping, and declared she could not leave
+her grandfather--that he would die without her; and I verily believe
+that he would. Well! well! I have got along for ten years without
+happiness. I have a career, while Mr. Raymond, millionaire though he is,
+has nothing but Helen. If only my health does not altogether fail!"
+
+"You are not ill, James?"
+
+"The doctors tell me that I have three incurable diseases," returned Mr.
+Floyd, laughing. "Then I took cold the moment I landed in this horrible
+climate. I perfectly realize the truth of the Psalmist, who declares
+that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Physicians dote upon me: I
+am an admirable field of research. Some people have the ill taste to die
+without any preliminaries, but I shall not give occasion for any painful
+surprise. Still, I only tell you this that you may make the most of me.
+Let me hear about yourself, Mary. If you only knew how often I have
+thought of you shut away here from the world in this wretched country
+place, nothing near you not utterly foreign to your tastes and your
+circles of thought!"
+
+My mother's hand stole into mine, and she met my jealous glance and
+smiled into my face. "Cousin James does not know what good times we
+have, does he, Floyd?" said she.
+
+"I forgot for one moment your consolations," said Mr. Floyd. "I saw your
+boy's mates when I came in: one of them has a powerful face: he looks
+like a youthful Cato."
+
+"That is Jack Holt," I cried. "He _is_ like Cato: he is strong, severe,
+just. Whatever he says ought to be done we know must be done, even if
+the heavens fall."
+
+"And the handsome fellow, who is he? Harry Dart? He looks equal to the
+heroism of all Plutarch's heroes: he has a beautiful, consecrated face.
+I hope he will live up to what it tells us now."
+
+Glad and proud although I was to see Mr. Floyd, his coming disturbed me
+a little. Hitherto I had accepted my life unquestioningly. We had been
+poor ever since my father's death, and my mother's life had become
+circumscribed and narrowed down to Belfield. It had seemed to me that no
+other people in the world were just so happy as my mother and myself.
+What need had we of a larger house, when the one stately mansion that I
+was familiar with appeared to me a desert, even with all its fairy-land
+splendors? Jack Holt's father was too rich a man not to allow his wife
+all the good things which she coveted, and her parlors, halls and
+bedrooms were irrefragable proof of the enormities which may be
+committed with an utter want of taste and tens of thousands of dollars.
+Both Harry and Jack hated the house, and spent every available moment
+out of school in our comfortable, well-worn nooks inside and out of
+doors. My mother used to play to us at twilight, and sing sweet ballads
+which gave us a state of mind full of the blessed misery which youth
+loves. Then what gay little waltzes used to rattle off from my mother's
+fingers! She taught us all to dance, and in the winter dusk we would
+waltz in turn with Georgy Lenox, the two of us who could not have her as
+a partner circling with our arms about each other's less slender waists.
+Then the feasts my mother used to cook for us with her own clever hands
+have made the greatest banquets seem poor since: she had the gift of
+performing every feminine task better than any other woman in the world.
+In short, I had lived the life which undoubtedly comes to many a lad who
+has no father: my mother appeared to have no thought but of me and my
+happiness, and not one of my dreams of far-reaching happiness but
+included her. I realized enough of the exquisite worth of her devotion
+to me never to cross her wishes: an invisible yet insurmountable barrier
+separated me from any of the grosser faults of boyhood, for she never
+let me go from her without her kiss, the clasp of her hand, and her
+saying, "You will be a good boy, Floyd?"
+
+Yes, I had been perfectly happy; and, as I say, it disturbed me to have
+a doubt suggested that this full, complete existence of mine had not
+filled my mother's heart as well. Belfield--merely writing the word
+"Belfield" has a breezy influence over my mind still. Wherever a man has
+spent his boyhood there linger associations of the cool wind of the
+hill-top, the sound of the sea audible yet invisible, the hush before a
+storm, the tumbling of the ice in the river in the spring freshets, the
+berries that grew on the edge of the wood, the ecstatic thrill of
+physical strength and delight on the playground where he ran "drinking
+in the wind of his own speed." But youth is the season not alone of
+action, but of reverie. Most of our original thinking is done before we
+are sixteen: after that we acquire so much of other men's experience
+that our thoughts wear the current stamp. We come into our rich
+inheritance of the world's accumulated knowledge, and evolve from it the
+answers to the necessities of our own individual development. As boys we
+were not cribbed by any exact logic and hard common sense, which must
+stretch us a little later on a Procrustean bed, and we were free to grow
+as we would and to stand on the highest level of noble thought and
+heroic deed. The writers whom we read with avidity were those who
+ennobled us: in those days youth was the era of a high romanticism, and
+our authors did not enter the actual world which lay about us, giving us
+pictures of real life, and with devilish ingenuity teaching us to regard
+men's actions from the reverse side, and thus detect ignoble traits as
+the mainspring of human achievement.
+
+More than forty of us went to school together in the stiff white
+academy which stood on the hill surrounded by a quadrangle of straight
+poplars. We learned many things there--some from the grim old preceptor,
+some outside the walls. I had a volume of Plutarch, from which I used to
+read stories to the boys as we lay on the grassy slopes in the shade,
+and I often felt a tremor in my voice as I read. It seems to me
+sometimes that the youth of this day lose some of the grandeur which
+made our ideals. Our sons read "Oliver Optic" and the magazines, while
+we used to thrill over the grand words of the men who have ruled the
+world. Then my mother's teaching was simple, direct and wise, and had
+become incorporated in every action of my will and impulse of my heart.
+I was to love and obey my God, never to tell a lie, never to do a mean
+action, never to be disloyal to a friend nor unfair to a foe. Still, if
+Harry and I were tolerably good, one of the reasons which acted most
+powerfully to restrain us from committing faults was our wish to stand
+well with Jack: he never scolded, never gave advice, but if he were
+displeased with our conduct we could not eat or sleep. Once Harry
+committed a trifling error--to call it a wickedness seems a grotesque
+exaggeration now--and Jack did not like it.
+
+"Of course, Harry," he said coldly, "you can do as you please, but I am
+disappointed in you."
+
+Harry rushed out of doors, and could not be found all night: he slept on
+the turf beneath his cousin's window, and the rain drenched him and he
+took a violent cold.
+
+"You were foolish," observed Jack, smiling coldly.
+
+"But do you forgive me now?"
+
+"I forgive nothing: a bad action is a bad action. But I could not sleep
+when I did not know where you were: I got up and studied, for I was so
+tormented."
+
+But Jack was so equable, so gentle! There was never a trace of harshness
+in his treatment of us. Indeed, it was only in his unfailing rectitude
+that he surpassed us, for, our senior although he was, he could barely
+keep up in our classes. Harry was the quickest of the three, but with a
+mortal hatred of hard study: he had an easy capacity for mastering
+knowledge without tedious assiduity; and, as he was resolved to be a
+painter, he held all mental acquirements as subsidiary to his
+master-passion for gaining dexterity and skill with his pencil. He could
+have done anything at his books had he expended any high endeavor, but
+he always let his chances slip by him, and allowed me to carry off the
+prizes which he might far more easily have won. I was by nature and
+habit rigidly conscientious, and discontented with myself unless I did
+my best. I hated cheap successes, and I was shy of praise, as my
+performances always fell short of my ideals. Mine was no studious
+disposition, and I had plenty of physical inclination to shirk lessons
+and lie beneath the forest boughs watching the birds all day; but there
+were detached lines that I used to repeat to myself aloud over and over
+again in lonely places, caring far less for their meaning than for the
+immeasurable music of the words.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+I could write many chapters about our life at Belfield, and perhaps of
+all I have to tell nothing would be so well worth telling. Belfield is a
+quiet place on the shore of Long Island Sound, placidly sleeping through
+the summers and autumns beneath the shadows of its immemorial trees. We
+went to school on the hill: below us was our ancient church built in
+far-off colonial times, and connected with many a story of Revolutionary
+times, to which we used to listen greedily: George Lenox had one of
+which we never tired.
+
+"My grandfather," said he, "went to church the Sunday after the
+proclamation of the Declaration of Independence, and when the clergyman
+read the prayers for the royal family he stood up in his pew and cried
+out that no such prayers must be read in Belfield--that George III.'s
+name was no longer the name of our friend, but of our worst enemy. The
+minister rose and shut up his prayer-book forthwith, raised his hand and
+pronounced the benediction, and the church was closed until the end of
+the war. We were good Federalists, we were," continued Mr. Lenox, "but
+we had one staunch Tory and Churchman in our family. After the church
+was closed my grandfather's family used to attend Presbyterian meeting
+on the hill, close by where your schoolhouse now stands; but their old
+dog, Duke, would never go past the church when he followed his master
+out on Sunday mornings: he would not go to Presbyterian meeting--not he:
+he stretched himself on the great millstone before the closed
+church-door."
+
+When Jack, Harry and I sat together on the high "back seat" at school we
+had a good view down the hill at the weather-stained old church, with
+its imperishable gilt vane on top of the tall spire. Often enough our
+vagrant eyes wandered that way, but not that we cared for green slopes
+or colonial church or venerable weathercock. The truth of the matter
+was, that we oftentimes saw Georgy Lenox walking along the quiet street
+under the elms. To tell of our early life in Belfield, and say nothing
+of the influence which was already moulding the lives of at least two of
+us, would be to give an incomplete and partial picture. I was an
+imaginative boy, and Jack was the reverse, yet we were both desperately
+in love with the same girl. As for Harry, nobody ever decided what he
+felt toward her. They continually quarrelled when they were together,
+and Harry sometimes took pains to abuse her in her absence: he never
+read of an unworthy trait in a woman but he at once pointed its meaning
+at her. He called us "spoons," etc. for caring about her, yet, all the
+same, she must have been invested with an endless store of associations
+in his mind, for his portfolio was full of sketches of her; which seemed
+to furnish his ideals of feminine beauty. She was not only Rowena, but
+Rebecca as well (with only a change of complexion), Helen of Troy and
+Joan of Arc, Cleopatra and the Madonna, Marie Stuart and Elizabeth
+Tudor. Still, Jack and I each felt that he was not one with us in his
+devotion to her, and we made no confidences to him respecting her. For
+Jack and I talked about her incessantly when we were together: when we
+saw her in the street below us we nudged each other, and together felt
+the thrill, the inextinguishable rapture, of beholding the sunny gleam
+of her golden hair and her quick, graceful gait.
+
+We were not rivals. I do not know how the thought of her came to Jack in
+those early days, but he had a habit of decision, and I dare say had
+made up his mind that she was to be his wife. He had plenty of
+pocket-money, and could buy her trinkets, ribbons and gloves: I had no
+money, and my tribute to her was of flowers and fruits. It was natural
+to both of us to offer her all we could; and it was equally natural to
+her to receive our largesse with a smile and laughing thanks if it
+pleased her, and a cool, indifferent shrug of contempt if it failed to
+suit her.
+
+I carried the thought of her into all my occupations. Were I planting my
+mother's flower-beds, were I writing my composition, it was all the
+same: the question was, "Will it please Georgy?" Not that it mattered;
+and I well knew that I was a fool for it all, for she was steadily
+indifferent to any matters in which she had no personal concern, and
+despised my pains with scant ceremony. I too held in contempt my small
+efforts to please her, and fell a-dreaming of the wonderful things I was
+sure to do some time. Not that she was slow in telling us what she
+wanted, and her demands upon us were not of the sort that appertain to
+heroic achievements; yet I felt, all the same, that let me once be a
+hero I must win her approbation. I can remember her sitting in our
+garden at home under the laburnums, with the greenery making a
+background for her fresh girl-face. From her babyhood her beauty had
+been remarked, and at ten years old she was as used to compliments as an
+old woman of the world. Mrs. Lenox had long since resigned expectation
+for herself, but she was not yet too hopeless to indulge in passionate
+belief of a brilliant future for her daughter; and when I used to
+listen to the gorgeous day-dreams of the two, I felt dejectedly that my
+own most radiant visions were by comparison the offspring of a lifeless
+and gloomy fancy. There was nothing problematical or idealistic in their
+ideas of a happy destiny. What they wanted was, in the first place,
+money; in the second place, money; thirdly and finally, money. I doubt
+whether Mrs. Lenox ever resigned herself to the sway of fiction or
+poetry, but I am sure that had she studied Shakespeare she would have
+thought Iago's advice to Roderigo shrewdly comprised the worth of all
+aspiration. She and Georgy longed for dress, jewels and laces; great
+houses panelled with mirrors and carpeted with velvet; magnificence and
+pomp and circumstance about their every-day life; horses, carriages,
+invitations, theatres, operas,--all the pleasures which throng toward
+people with lined pockets and idle lives. Their wants were innumerable,
+their taste and fancy a harp of a thousand strings upon which caprice
+and vanity could play an endless variety of tunes. Mrs. Lenox had once
+enjoyed the luxuries she still coveted so ardently, yet Georgy, who had
+never known wealth, or even the easy-assured comforts of life, had
+instinctively the keener perception of the two for the worth of costly
+surroundings and possessions. No princess who had breathed perfumes all
+her life, trod on velvet and been served on gold and silver, could have
+felt a more vital necessity for luxury than Georgy, who had always lived
+among shabby things and known few but shabby people. She was born with
+the looks, manners and tastes of what we call an aristocrat, and her
+mother worshipped these traits in her. When one day she flung away her
+dinner because it was not to her liking, and went out of doors and
+pulled the peaches ripening against the wall, and ate them instead, Mrs.
+Lenox felt that such fastidiousness foreshadowed a destiny more than
+common. For her to tear her hats to pieces and cut her dress or apron in
+shreds because they did not suit her was a frequent caprice, and one we
+had all laughed at again and again--except Jack, who was thrifty by
+nature and respected the worth of things like a sensible economist. It
+was generally he, however, who replaced the ruined garments, and by the
+time he was sixteen he had attained quite a nice taste in millinery from
+his frequent purchases for Georgy. Mrs. Lenox always had a fit of
+weeping when such presents came and were displayed by Georgy as
+trophies, for she was still too proud not to be cut deeply by every
+fresh humiliation; but her belief in her daughter's future carried her
+through the present, and she pacified her scruples in regard to her
+course with Jack or anybody else who made outlay for her daughter by
+remembering that all such services would be balanced by and by when the
+natural order of things had been restored.
+
+All in Belfield knew both Mrs. Lenox and Georgy so well--their history,
+the miserable shortcomings of their home, the girl's scanty education
+both of intellect and morals--that we could but attribute their faults
+to sheer worldliness combined with the evils of their bitter poverty.
+Jack and myself, at least, with the most meagre excuse readily forgave
+Georgy everything. She was so beautiful, so radiant in all the phases of
+her dingy life, so good-natured even in her contempt of our stupidity
+and dulness, so eager to find enjoyment in everything, that we were
+willing to accept all her faults with her charms, to love her
+idolatrously, and blame ourselves for harshness if we were momentarily
+angry with the lovely creature.
+
+We had all, even Georgy, been reasonably happy in Belfield until Mr.
+Floyd and Antonio Thorpe came. My guardian's influence I will speak of
+later, for it touched only myself perhaps; but Tony's was felt more or
+less by us all. He widened our horizons at once, and, as usual, enlarged
+our imaginations at the expense of our belief in ourselves. We were not
+used exactly to be complimented on our ignorance of the world, but in
+Belfield habits of thought tended toward a pleasant conviction of the
+uselessness of all knowledge and experience that our best inhabitants
+did not happen to possess. Until Tony came we were in the habit of
+deploring the fate of people who were not born and brought up in
+Belfield. Almost the entire population were descendants of the original
+proprietors of the soil, and we had our own ideas about our first
+families. Thorpe's views, however, were not flattering: he was, in fact,
+one of those elegant young men whose innermost souls are penetrated with
+convictions of the inadequacy of intellects in general to appreciate
+theirs in particular.
+
+Both Jack and I passed sleepless nights at first, wretched at the
+thought of his sleeping beneath the same roof with Georgy Lenox--of his
+enjoying that mystical, beautiful experience of coming down every
+morning to find her at table with her hair freshly curled, to enjoy the
+felicity of passing her eggs and toast, to carve a slice for her from
+the joint which the welcome addition of the young man's payment for
+board allowed Mrs. Lenox to provide for her dinner. Then, too, we felt
+with a pang that he would receive with his unequalled grace all sorts of
+little services from the daughter of the house: she would pour his tea
+for him, counting the lumps of sugar and dropping cream upon them in the
+distracting way we knew; she would amuse him with her sweet-voiced
+chatter. He was so old, so handsome with his velvety eyes and his
+moustache, she might even fall in love with him. However, Georgy was not
+given to sentiment, and Tony, for his part, was utterly indifferent to
+her: indeed, the most exclusive circles in Belfield opened to him at
+once, for a young man with a moustache was a _rara avis_ there, the
+masculine element in the village falling short of social requirements,
+as its representatives were generally either in their first or second
+childhood. But the only intimacy he cultivated was with me and my
+mother: he criticised everybody else, and it was evident that he
+considered nothing in Belfield quite good enough for him.
+
+"What a great man my master is!" says the French valet: "nothing suits
+him." And it must be confessed that the valet's state of mind
+concerning his master much resembled ours regarding Thorpe. At every
+woman in the place except my mother he levelled trenchant sarcasms: the
+men, he declared, possessed every trait which could shock or weary a man
+of the world, and not only displeased his eyes, but were so foreign to
+his spheres of thought that he was obliged to ignore them. At the habits
+and customs of everybody alike he shrugged his shoulders, and we used to
+wonder to each other why so great a man stayed in Belfield at all. But
+he did us no harm, and it is not impossible that he did us good. He
+laughed freely at our provincialisms, accustomed us to take raillery
+good-naturedly, disillusionized us in many ways, and showed us always a
+pattern of polished and careful demeanor.
+
+He used to entertain us frequently--if I may use the word "entertain" to
+describe his indifferent toleration of us and his acceptance of such
+listeners in default of better--by a description of Mr. Raymond's place,
+"The Headlands," as it was usually called. He had been in the habit of
+spending a few days of his vacations there for years, and was in a
+position to enlighten Georgy about her distant cousin and mine, Helen
+Floyd, Mr. Raymond's probable heiress. Perhaps he liked to tease Georgy,
+yet it is possible that the little daughter of Mr. Floyd, growing up in
+the quiet, stately place, really possessed something already to arouse
+Tony's admiration for a child ten years old; but he would dwell upon her
+beauty, her brilliant prospects in the future and the grandeur of her
+present possessions, until Georgy was enraged with him. The train was
+perhaps already laid in the mind of the young girl which led up to a
+magazine of hatred and anger against more successful mortals, and needed
+but a chance spark to light it. She made a rival of little Helen Floyd
+at once, and every action of her life became infused with ambitious
+desires to surpass her in some way. She besieged me with questions
+concerning my guardian, his ideas, views, tastes and habits, and beset
+me feverishly to use my influence to get her invited to The Headlands.
+
+Mr. Floyd's visits became more and more frequent as the summer advanced,
+and I began with some jealousy to notice a growing change in my mother.
+In former times she had shown an exquisite poise of strength and peace
+in every phase of her life, but of late she seemed possessed with a sort
+of girlish fluttering and disquiet: her eyes were dreamy and her voice
+softer and less decided in its inflexions, and her manner to me, instead
+of continuing its old noble habits of command, became timid and
+caressing, as if she were anxious to propitiate me. In the evenings,
+instead of sitting among us boys on the piazza, she would leave us and
+walk by herself under the laburnums in the garden; and if I followed her
+and put my arm about her, I found, with vague pain and rebellion at my
+heart, that although she amply responded to my tenderness, she had sweet
+and sacred thoughts that she was smiling over all by herself. It had
+been her wont to busy herself with housekeeping cares from morning until
+night: our income was small, and she was very busy, for she gave thought
+to everything and decided wisely upon the smallest matter. In these
+duties she had found pleasant occupation apparently: she had shown no
+fatigue, had marred nothing by impatience or over-haste--had judiciously
+studied how to manage every detail of our lives. Now all at once there
+seemed a little lassitude upon her: she left all questions concerning
+the housekeeping for her domestic, Ann, to decide; she would drop her
+sewing in her lap and fall into reverie, her cheeks crimsoning, her eyes
+growing dark and misty, and emerge into reality presently with a
+beautiful trembling smile on her lips. I grudged her those reveries and
+those smiles: I quaked at the thought that her heart was turning toward
+Mr. Floyd, much as I loved and venerated him. I knew that she had
+worshipped my father, and I wanted her to carry that one feeling supreme
+to the end of her days. _Cet �ge est sans piti�_. I realized nothing of
+the preciousness of those impulses which were quickening her again into
+happy youth: I realized nothing of her having been lonely--nothing of
+the pain and passion of longing which must have tried her through these
+eight years of widowhood, without any companionship save mine, with such
+cruel silence when she had been used to every tenderness, to constant
+loving flatteries, to gentlest ministrations--or I hope I should not so
+bitterly have resented this new hope of hers which made her almost
+afraid to look me in the face.
+
+When Mr. Floyd did not come he wrote frequently to my mother. I used to
+bring his letters to her with a swelling heart and bitter tears in my
+eyes; but she knew nothing of those tears, for she never looked up, nor
+when she took the letters did she read them before me. He wrote
+frequently to me as well as to her, but while her envelopes covered
+numerous well-filled pages, his notes to me were adorned with just one
+degree more ample verbiage than we use in a telegram.
+
+But nothing was said between us until one night early in September. It
+was a rainy evening, but so warm that both doors and windows stood wide
+open, and we heard the faint pattering music of the swift succeeding
+showers mingled with the monotonous chant of the katydids. My mother sat
+at the table with a pretence of work in her hands, but I saw that she
+trembled so much that she could not draw the thread. I had brought her
+in a letter at seven o'clock directed in Mr. Floyd's fine cramped
+handwriting, and I too had a note from him. My mother had taken hers
+from me with a devouring blush, and as if to hide it had thrust it
+beneath a pile of cambric ruffles on the table.
+
+Her look and manner had made me turn almost sick with pain, for it
+seemed to me she no longer loved or trusted me. I had lost everything, I
+told myself with profound dreariness. I laid my own letter from Mr.
+Floyd open in her lap without a word. It ran thus:
+
+"MY DEAR BOY: I have had a trying week: Helen has been at the point of
+death, and that she is now convalescent fills me with gratitude to God
+too great for words. I think she would have died if I had not been here.
+As soon as she is well I want you to spend a few weeks at The Headlands:
+you need the change, and my little girl needs a friend. Love to your
+dear mother and for yourself.
+
+"JAMES FLOYD."
+
+But although my mother took up the letter, something seemed to blind
+her: she could not read it, and put it by and resumed her work. We spent
+an hour in complete silence.
+
+"We are very dull," she said at last, looking over at me with a little
+trembling smile. "Have you nothing to tell me, Floyd?"
+
+"Why do you not read your letter, mother?"
+
+"Oh, Floyd!" she cried, "it seems to me you are a little hard and cruel
+to me of late."
+
+"Read your letter, mother, and mine too. If it is impossible for you to
+open a letter from Cousin James before me, I will leave the room."
+
+She obeyed me, calmly taking her missive out from its hiding-place,
+opening it and reading it through: then she handed it to me with her old
+habit of command: "I wish you to read it, my boy."
+
+I did so: it was just as I had thought. Mr. Floyd loved her: he had
+spoken of his feelings many times, and was waiting for her answer.
+
+"Poor little Helen!" said my mother tenderly. "I am so thankful she is
+better! You will like to go to The Headlands, Floyd? 'Tis a beautiful
+place: your father and I attended Cousin James's wedding there. I
+remember still how superb and stately the place was."
+
+"I do not feel as if I ever wanted to do anything any more, mother."
+
+She gave me a piteous glance, and her hands locked and unlocked as they
+lay together in her lap.
+
+"I used to think you loved me, mother," I blurted out.
+
+In another moment she had me in her arms. There was no more doubt
+between us: she had given him up, and our old sweet, strong comradeship
+returned.
+
+ELLEN W. OLNEY.
+
+[TO BE CONTINUED.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WASHER AT THE WELL: A BRETON LEGEND.
+
+
+    Nigh a league to the castle still:
+      _Twelve_! booms the bell from the old clock-tower.
+    Now, brave mare, for the stretch up the hill,
+      Then just a gallop of half an hour.
+
+    Half an hour, and home and rest!
+      Is she watching for him on the oriel stair,
+    Or cradling the babe on her silken breast
+      In the hush of the drowsy chamber there?
+
+    Hol�! steady, good Bonnibelle!
+      Scared at the wind, or the owlet's flight?
+    Ha! what stirs by the Washing Well?
+      Who goes there at the dead of night?
+
+    Over the stream below the slope,
+      Where the women wash their webs at noon,
+    A form like a shadow seems to grope,
+      Doubtful under the doubtful moon.
+
+    Good mother, your task is late and lone.
+      All goes well at the castle? say!--
+    Not a word speaks the withered crone,
+      Gray as a ghost in the moonlight gray.
+
+    Stone-still over the running stream,
+      Steadily, swiftly, round and round,
+    Plying her web through gloom and gleam,
+      Out and in, with never a sound--
+
+    Never a sound save the blasted oak
+      That shakes in the wind, and the bubbling well:
+    This is no face of the peasant-folk!--
+      With the sign of the cross he bars the spell.
+
+    Slowly, slowly she turns about:
+      Oh the creeping horror that chokes his breath
+    As slowly she draws the linen out,
+      And fashions its folds in guise of death--
+
+    Long and loose like a winding-sheet!
+      So sharp he pulls at the bridle-rein
+    The mare stands straight on her trembling feet
+      Before she cowers to the ground again.
+
+    Now he knows, with a shudder of dread,
+      The Ghost of the Well he has looked upon
+    Washing the shroud for some one dead--
+      Some one dear to him, dead and gone!
+
+    Well and washer and funeral-pall
+      Swim under his sight in pale eclipse.
+    The good God send that the shroud be small!--
+      He bites the words in his bloodless lips.
+
+    Over the lonely moor alone,
+      Praying a prayer for the dearest life,
+    Stifling a cry for the dead unknown,
+      Child or wife: is it child or wife?
+
+    Over the threshold and up the stair,
+      And into the hush of the deathly room,
+    To a motionless form in the midnight there
+      Under the tapers' glimmering gloom;
+
+    And the babe on her bosom--child and wife!
+      Child and wife! and his journey done.
+    Hark! overhead, with a sullen strife,
+      The bell in the old clock-tower booms--_One!_
+
+KATE PUTNAM OSGOOD.
+
+
+
+
+THE REAL PRISONER OF CHILLON: A GENTLEMAN GROSSLY MISREPRESENTED.
+
+[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF CHILLON.]
+
+
+"A character more celebrated than known" is Francis Bonivard, prior of
+St. Victor and Prisoner of Chillon. It is not by any intentional
+imposture on his part that he goes stalking through modern literature
+disguised in the character of hero, saint and martyr, and shouting in a
+hoarse chest-voice his "appeal from tyranny to God." In fact, if he
+could be permitted to revisit his cherished little shelf of books about
+which has grown the ample library of the University of Geneva, and view
+the various delineations of himself by artist, poet, and even serious
+historian, it would be delightful to witness his comical astonishment.
+Perhaps it is not to be laid to the fault of Lord Byron, who after
+visiting the old castle and its dungeon beguiled the hours of a rainy
+day at the inn at Ouchy with writing a poem concerning which he frankly
+confesses that he had not the slightest knowledge of its hero. Hobhouse,
+his companion, ought to have been better informed, but was not. If
+anybody is to blame, it is the recent writers, who do know the facts,
+but are unwilling to hurt so fine an heroic figure or to dethrone "one
+of the demigods of the liberal mythology." Enough to say that the Muse
+of History has been guilty of one of those practical jokes to which she
+is too much addicted, in dressing with tragic buskins and muffling in
+the cloak of a hero of melodrama, and so palming off for earnest on two
+generations of mankind, the drollest wag of the sixteenth century.
+
+A wild young fellow like Bonivard, with a lively appreciation of the
+ridiculous, could not fail to see the comic aspect of the fate which
+invested him with the spiritual and temporal authority and emoluments
+of the priory of St. Victor. This was a rich little Benedictine
+monastery just outside the eastern gate of Geneva, on the little knoll
+now crowned by the observatory, surrounded with walls and moat of its
+own, independent of the bishop of Geneva in spiritual matters, and in
+temporal affairs equally independent of the city: in fact, it was a
+petty sovereignty by itself, and its dozen of hearty, well-provided
+monks, though nominally under the rule of Cluny, were a law to
+themselves, and not a very rigid one either. The office of prior, by
+virtue of a little arrangement at Rome, descended to Bonivard from his
+uncle, immediately upon whose demise the young potentate of twenty-one
+took upon him the state and functions of his office in a way to show the
+monks of St. Victor that they had no King Log to deal with. The document
+is still extant, in the Latin of the period, in which Prior Bonivard
+ordains that every new brother at his initiation shall not only stand
+treat all round, but shall, at his own cost and charges, furnish every
+one of his brethren with a new cap. Another document of equal gravity
+makes new ordinances concerning the convent-kitchen, which seems to have
+been one of the good prior's most religious cares.[6] Not only his own
+subjects, but those of other jurisdictions, were made to feel the
+majesty of his sovereign authority. He would let them know that he had
+"just as much jurisdiction at St. Victor as the duke of Savoy had at
+Chamb�ry." He heard causes, sentenced to prison, even received
+ambassadors from his brother the duke, but not without looking sharply
+at their credentials. If these were wanting, the unfortunate wretches
+were threatened with the gallows as spies, and when they had been
+thoroughly frightened the monarch would indulge himself in the exercise
+of the sweetest prerogative of royalty, the pardoning power, and, when
+it was considered that the majesty of the state had been sufficiently
+asserted, would wind up with asking the whole company to dinner.
+
+[Illustration: FRAN�OIS BONIVARD, "THE PRISONER OF CHILLON."
+
+[From an old print in the Public Library of Geneva, never before
+copied.]]
+
+It had been considered a clever stroke of policy, at a time when the
+dukes of Savoy and the bishops of Geneva, who agreed in nothing else,
+were plotting, together or separately, to capture and extinguish the
+immemorial liberties of the brave little free city, to get this
+fortified outpost before its very gate officered by a brilliant and
+daring young Savoyard gentleman, who would be bound to the duke by his
+nativity and to the Church by his office, and to both by his interests.
+To the dismay of bishop and duke, it appeared that the young prior, who
+had led a gay life of it at the University of Turin, had nevertheless
+read his classics to some purpose, and had come back with his head full
+of Plato and Plutarch and Livy and of theories of republican liberty. So
+that by putting him into St. Victor they had turned that little
+stronghold from an outpost of attack upon Geneva liberties into the
+favorite resort and rendezvous of all the young liberal leaders of that
+gay but gallant little republic, who found themselves irresistibly drawn
+to young Bonivard, partly as a republican and still more as a jolly good
+fellow.
+
+The first manifestation of his sympathies in that direction occurred soon
+after his installation as prior. His uncle on his deathbed had confessed
+to young Francis the burden on his conscience in that he had taken Church
+money and applied it to the making of a battery of culverins wherewith to
+levy war against one of his neighbors in the country; and bequeathed to
+his nephew the convent and the culverins, with the charge to melt down the
+latter into a chime of church-bells which should atone for his evil deeds.
+Not long after, Bonivard was telling the story to his friend Berthelier,
+the daring and heroic leader of the "Sons of Geneva" in their perilous
+struggle against tyranny, when the latter exclaimed, "What! spoil good
+cannon to make bells? Never! Give us the guns, and you shall have old
+metal to make bells enough to split your ears. But let guns be guns. So
+the Church will be doubly served. There will be chimes at St. Victor and
+guns in Geneva, which is a Church city." The bargain was struck, as a vote
+in the records of the city council shows to this day. But it was the
+beginning of a quarrel with the duke of Savoy which was to cost Bonivard
+more than he had counted on. There was reckless deviltry enough among all
+these young liberals, but some of them--not Bonivard--were capable of
+seriously counting the cost of their game. On one occasion--it was at the
+christening of Berthelier's child, and Bonivard was godfather--Berthelier
+took his friend aside from the guests and said, "It is time we had done
+with dancing and junketing and organized for the defence of
+liberty."--"All right!" said the prior. "Come on, and may the Lord prosper
+our crazy schemes!" Berthelier took his hand, and with a serious look that
+sobered the rattle-headed ecclesiastic for a moment, replied, "But let me
+warn you that this is going to cost you your living and me my head."--"I
+have heard him say this a hundred times," says Bonivard in his
+_Chronicles_. The dungeon at Chillon and the mural tablet in the Tour de
+l'Isle at Geneva tell how truly the prophecy was fulfilled.
+
+There was so little of the strut of the stage-hero about Bonivard that
+he could not be comfortable in doing a chivalrous thing without a joke
+to take off the gloss of it. Before the ducal party had quite given up
+hopes of him there was a serious affair on their hands--the need of
+putting out of the way by such means, treacherous and atrocious, as the
+Savoyards of that day loved to use, one of the noblest of the Geneva
+magistrates, Aim� L�vrier. An emissary of the duke, of high rank,
+kinsman to Bonivard, came to St. Victor and offered the prior
+magnificent inducements to aid in the plot. With a gravity that must
+have convulsed the spectators if there had been any, Bonivard pointed to
+his monastic gown, his prayer-book and his crucifix, and pleaded his
+deep sense of the sacredness of his office as a reason for having
+nothing to do with the affair. "Then," says his kinsman, rising in
+wrath, "I will do the business myself. I'll have L�vrier out of his bed
+and over in Savoy this very night."--"Do you really mean it, uncle? Give
+me your hand!"--"Then you consent, after all, to help me in the
+matter?"--"Oh no, uncle: that isn't it. But I know these Genevese are a
+hasty sort of folk, and I am just going to raise thirty florins to be
+spent in saying masses to-morrow for the repose of your soul." Before
+the evening was over, Bonivard found an opportunity of slipping in
+disguise over to the house of L�vrier and giving a hint of what was
+intended: the notes of preparation for resistance that Berthelier and
+his friends began at once to make wrought upon the excited nerves of the
+ambassador and his armed retinue to such a point that they were fain to
+escape from the town by a secret gate before daylight.
+
+The affair of his rescue of Pecolat is another illustration of his
+character and of the strange, turbulent age in which he lived; and it
+went far to embitter the hatred of the duke and the bishop against him.
+This poor fellow was the jester, song-singer and epigrammatist of the
+madcap patriots who were associated under the title of "Sons of Geneva."
+Under a trumped-up charge of plotting the death of the bishop he was
+kidnapped and carried away to one of the castles in the neighborhood,
+and there tortured until a false confession was wrung from him
+implicating Berthelier and others. To secure his condemnation to death
+he was brought back into the city and presented before the court; but
+the sight of the poor cripple, racked and bruised with recent tortures,
+and his steadfastness in recanting his late confession, wrought more
+with the judges than the fear of the duke, and he was acquitted. But the
+feeble and ferocious bishop, moved partly by malignity and partly, no
+doubt, by sincere and cowardly terror, was resolved to kill him; and by
+some fiction declaring him to have been in the minor orders, he clapped
+him into the bishop's prison, claiming to try him by ecclesiastical law.
+The story of renewed tortures inflicted on their helpless comrade, and
+their knowledge of the certain death that awaited him, stirred the blood
+of the patriots of Geneva. It was just the moment for the prior of St.
+Victor to show that the studies at Freiburg and Turin that had made him
+_doctor utriusque juris_ had not been in vain. He would fight the bishop
+with his own weapon of Church law. He despatched Pecolat's own brother
+with letters to the archbishop of Vienne, metropolitan to the bishop of
+Geneva, and, using his family influence, which was not small, he secured
+a summons to the bishop and chapter of Geneva to appear before the
+archiepiscopal court and give account of the affair, and meanwhile to
+cease all proceedings against the prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD.]
+
+It was comparatively easy to procure the summons. The difficulty was to
+find some one competent to the functions of episcopal usher and bold
+enough to serve it. Bonivard bethought him of a "caitiff wretch"--an
+obscure priest--to whom he handed the document with two round dollars
+lying on it, and bade him hand the paper to the bishop at mass the next
+day in the cathedral. The starving clergyman hesitated long between his
+fears and his necessities, but finally promised to do the work on
+condition that the prior should stand by him in person and see him
+through. The hour approached, and the commissioner's courage was oozing
+rapidly away. His knees knocked together, and he slipped back in the
+crowd, hoping to escape. The vigilant prior darted after him, seized
+him, and laying his hand on the dagger that he wore under his robe
+whispered in his ear, "Do it or I'll stab you!" He adds, in his
+_Chronicles_, "I should have been as good as my word: I do not say it by
+way of boasting. I know I was acting like a fool, but I was quite beside
+myself with anxiety for my friend." Happily, there was no need of
+extreme measures. He gripped his terrified victim by the thumb, and as
+the procession moved toward the church-door he thrust the paper into his
+hand, saying, "Now's the time! You've got to do it." And all the time he
+held him fast by the thumb. The bishop came near, and Bonivard let go
+the wretch's thumb and pushed him to the front, pointing to the prelate
+and saying, "Do your work!" The bishop turned pale with terror of
+assassination as he heard the words. But the trembling clerk, not less
+terrified than the bishop, dropped on his knees and presented the
+archiepiscopal mandate, gasping out, "My lord, _inhibitur vobis, prout
+in copia_." Bonivard retreated into his inviolable sanctuary of St.
+Victor. "I was young enough and crazy enough," he says, "to fear neither
+bishop nor duke." He had saved poor Pecolat's life, although the work
+was not finished until the publication of an interdict from the
+metropolitan silencing every church-bell and extinguishing every
+altar-candle in the city had brought the bishop to terms.[7]
+
+It is a hardship to the writer to be compelled to retrench the story of
+the early deeds for liberty of Bonivard and his boon companions. There
+is a rollicking swagger about them all, which by and by begins to be
+sobered when it is seen that on the side of the oppressor there is
+_power_. By violence, by fraudulent promises, by foul treachery on the
+part of cowardly citizens, the duke of Savoy gains admittance with his
+army within the walls of Geneva, and begins his delicious and bloody
+revenge for the indignities that have been put upon his pretensions and
+usurpations. Berthelier, a very copy from the antique--a hero that might
+have stepped forth into the sixteenth century from the page of
+Plutarch[8]--remained in the town serenely to await the death which he
+foreknew. On the day of the duke's entrance Bonivard, who had no such
+relish for martyrdom for its own sake, put himself between two of his
+most trusted friends, the lord of Voruz and the abbot of Montheron of
+the Pays de Vaud, and galloped away disguised as a monk. "Come first to
+my convent," said the abbot, "and thence we will take you to a place of
+safety." The convent was reached, and in the morning Bonivard was
+greeted by his comrade Voruz, who came into his room, and, laying paper
+and pen before him, required him to write a renunciation of his priory
+in favor of the abbot of Montheron. Resistance was vain. He was a
+prisoner in the hands of traitors. The alternative being "Your priory or
+your life!" he frankly owns that he required no time at all to make up
+his choice. Voruz took the precious document, with the signature still
+wet, and went out, double locking the door behind him. His two friends
+turned him over to the custody of the duke, who locked him up for two
+years at Grol�e, one of his castles down the Rhone, and put the honest
+abbot of Montheron in possession of the rich living of St. Victor.
+
+But Bonivard in his prison was less to be pitied than the citizens of
+Geneva who remained in their subjugated city. The two despots, the
+bishop and the duke, who had seized the unhappy town, combined to crush
+the gay and insubordinate spirit out of it. All this time, says
+Bonivard, "they imprisoned, they scourged, they tortured, they beheaded,
+they hung, so as it is pitiful to tell."
+
+Meanwhile, the influential family friends of Bonivard, some of them high
+in court favor, discovering that he was yet alive and in prison,
+bestirred themselves to procure his liberation; and not in vain, for the
+possession that had made him dangerous, the priory of St. Victor, having
+been wrested from him, there was little harm that he could do. His
+immediate successor in the priory, good Abbot de Montheron, had not
+indeed long enjoyed the benefice. He had gone on business to Rome,
+where certain Churchmen who admired his new benefice invited him (so
+Bonivard tells the story) to a banquet _more Romano_, and gave him a
+dose of the "cardinal powder," which operated so powerfully that it
+purged the soul right out of the body. He left a paper behind him in
+which, as a sign of remorse for his crime, he resigned all his rights in
+the priory back to Bonivard.[9] But the pope, whose natural affection
+toward his cousins and nephews overflowed freely in the form of gifts of
+what did not belong to him, bestowed the living on a cousin, who
+commuted it for an annual revenue of six hundred and forty gold
+crowns--a splendid revenue for those days--and poor Bonivard, whose sole
+avocation was that of gentleman, found it difficult to carry on that
+line of business with neither capital nor income. He came back, some
+five years later, into possession of the priory. They were five years of
+exciting changes, of fierce terrorism and oppression at Geneva, followed
+by a respite, a rallying of the spirit of the people, an actual recovery
+of some of the old rights of the city, and, presently, by the beginning
+of some signs of religious light coming from the direction of Germany.
+And the way in which Bonivard at last got reinstalled into his convent
+is curiously illustrative of the strange condition of society in those
+times. One May morning in 1527 the little town was all agog with strange
+news from Rome. The Eternal City had been taken by storm, sacked,
+pillaged, burned! The Roman bishop was prisoner to the Roman emperor, if
+indeed he was alive at all. In fact, there was a rumor--dreadful, no
+doubt, but attended by vast consolations--that the whole court of Rome
+had perished. Immediately there was a rush to the bishop's palace, and a
+scramble for the vacant livings in the diocese that had been held by
+absentees at Rome. The bishop, delighted at such a windfall of
+patronage, dispensed his favors right and left, not forgetting, says
+Bonivard, to reserve something comfortable for himself in the shape of
+a fat convent that had been held by a cardinal. This was Bonivard's
+opportunity, and, times and the bishop having changed, he got back once
+more into his cherished quarters as prior of St. Victor. The convent was
+there, and the friars, but the estates that had been wont to keep them
+all right royally were mostly in the hands of the duke and his minions.
+It is in the effort to recover these that Bonivard shines out in his
+most magnificent character, that of military hero. The campaign of
+Cartigny includes the most memorable of his feats of arms.
+
+Cartigny was an estate about six miles down the left bank of the Rhone
+from Geneva, appertaining to St. Victor. "It was a chastel of
+pleasaunce, not a forteresse," says our hero, who is the Homer of his
+own brave deeds. But the duke kept a garrison there, and to every demand
+the prior made for his place he replied that he did not dare give it up
+for fear of being excommunicated by the pope. Rent-time came, and the
+Savoyard government enjoined the tenants not to pay to the prior.
+Whereupon that potentate declared that, being refused civil justice, he
+"fell back on the law of nations."
+
+The military resources of his realm were limited. He counted ten
+able-bodied subjects, but they were monks and not liable to service. The
+culverins of his uncle were gone, but he had six muskets--a loan from
+the city--and there were four pounds of powder in the magazine. But this
+was not of itself sufficient for a war against the duke of Savoy. He
+must subsidize mercenaries.
+
+About this time there chanced to be at Geneva a swashbuckler from Berne,
+Bischelbach by name, by trade a butcher, who had found the new r�gime of
+the Reformers at that city too strait-laced for his tastes and habits,
+and had come to Geneva, with some vagabonds at his heels, in search of
+adventures and a livelihood. Him did the prior of St. Victor, greatly
+impressed with his own accounts of his powers, commission as
+generalissimo of the forces. Second in command he set a priest, likewise
+just thrown out of business by the Reformation in the North; and in a
+council of war the plan of campaign was determined. But before the
+actual clash of arms began the solemn preliminaries usual between
+hostile powers must be scrupulously fulfilled. A herald was commissioned
+to make proclamation in the name of the lord of St. Victor, through all
+the lands of Cartigny, that no man should venture to execute there any
+orders, whether of pope or duke, under penalty of being hung. This
+energetic procedure struck due terror, for when Bonivard's captain with
+several soldiers appeared before the castle it capitulated without a
+blow.
+
+It was a brief though splendid victory. The very first raid in which the
+"Knights of the Spoon"--an association of neighboring country
+gentlemen--harried that region they found that the captain and entire
+garrison of the castle had gone to market (not without imputations of
+treason), leaving the post in charge of one woman, who promptly
+surrendered.
+
+The sovereign of St. Victor's blood was up. He resolved to draw, if need
+were, on the entire resources of his realm. The army was promptly
+reinforced to twenty men, and Bonivard took the field in person at the
+head of his forces. On what wise this array debouched in two corps
+d'arm�e one Sunday morning from two of the gates of Geneva; how the
+junction of the forces was effected; the military history of the march;
+how they appeared, at last, before the castle of Cartigny,--are these
+not written by the pen of the hero himself in his _Chronicles_ of
+Geneva? But Bonivard, though brave, was merciful. Willing to spare the
+effusion of blood, he sent the general-in-chief, Bischelbach, with his
+servant, Diebolt, as an interpreter, to summon the castle. The answer
+was a shot that knocked poor Diebolt over with a mortal wound; whereupon
+the attacking army fell back in a masterly manner into the woods and
+made good their way into Geneva, bringing one prisoner, whom they had
+caught unarmed near the castle, and leaving Diebolt to die at a roadside
+inn.
+
+We may not further narrate the deeds of Bonivard as a martial hero,
+though they are neither few nor uninteresting.[10] But he is equally
+worthy of himself as a religious reformer. It was about this time that
+the stirrings of religious reformation at Berne and elsewhere began to
+be heard at Geneva, and the thought began to be seriously entertained by
+some of the patriotic "Sons of Geneva" that perhaps that liberty for
+which they had dared and suffered so much in vain might best come with
+that gospel which had wrought such wonders in other communities. There
+was one man who could advise them what to do; and they went together
+over to the convent and sought audience and ghostly counsel of the
+prior. "We are going to have done with all popish ceremonies," said
+they, "and drive out the whole rabble-rout of papistry, monks, priests
+and all: then we mean to send for gospel ministers to introduce the true
+Christian Reformation." It is pleasant to imagine the expression of
+Bonivard's countenance as he replied to his ardent friends: "It is a
+very praiseworthy idea. There is no doubt that all these ecclesiastics
+sadly need reformation. I am one of them myself. But who is to do the
+reforming? Whoever it is, they had better begin operations on
+themselves. If you are so fond of the gospel, why don't you practise it?
+It looks as if you did not so much love the gospel as you hate us. And
+what do you hate us for? It is not because we are so different from you,
+but because we are so like. You say we are a licentious lot; well, so
+are you. We drink hard; so do you. We gamble and we swear; but what do
+you do, I should like to know? Why should you be so hard on us? We
+don't interfere with your little enjoyments: for pity's sake, don't
+meddle with ours. You talk about driving us out and sending for the
+Lutheran ministers. Gentlemen, think twice before you do it. They will
+not have been here two years before you will wish they were gone. If you
+dislike us because we are too much like you, you will detest them
+because they are so different from you. My friends, do one thing or the
+other. Either let us alone, or, if you must do some reforming, try it on
+yourselves."
+
+Thus did this excellent pastor, in the spirit of the gospel injunction
+to count the cost, give spiritual counsel to those who sought
+reformation of the Church. "I warrant you," he wrote concerning them,
+"they went off with their tails between their legs. I am as fond of
+reformation as anybody, but I am a little scrupulous as to who shall
+take it in hand."[11]
+
+Bonivard's harum-scarum raids into the duke of Savoy's dominions after
+rents or reprisals at last became so embarrassing to his Geneva friends
+that, much as they enjoyed the fun of them, it became necessary to say
+to the good monk that this sort of thing really must stop; and feeling
+the force of his argument, that he must have _something_ to live on, the
+city council allowed its neighboring potentate a subvention of four
+crowns and a half monthly to enable him to keep up a state worthy of the
+dignity of a sovereign. He grumbled at the amount, but took it; and
+thereafter the peace of Europe was less disturbed on his part.
+
+But bad news came to the gay prior in his impoverished monastery. His
+mother was ill at his old home at Seyssel in Savoy, and he must see her
+before she died. It was venturing into the tiger's den, as all his
+friends told him, and as he did not need to be told. But he thought he
+would adventure it if he could get a safe-conduct from the tiger. The
+matter was arranged: the duke sent Bonivard his passport, limited to a
+single month; and the prior arrived at Seyssel, and nearly frightened
+the poor old lady out of her last breath with her sense of the peril to
+which he had exposed himself.
+
+Our hero's incomparable genius for getting himself into difficulties
+never shone more brightly than at this hour. While here in the country
+of his mortal enemy, on the last days of his expiring safe-conduct, he
+got news of accusations gravely sustained at Geneva that he had gone
+over into Savoy to treat with the enemy. He did not dare to stay: he did
+not dare to go back. If he could get his safe-conduct extended for one
+month, to the end of May, he would try to make his way through the Pays
+de Vaud (then belonging to Savoy) to Fribourg in the Swiss
+Confederation. The extension was granted, and with many assurances of
+good-will from friends of the duke he pushed on. It was a fine May
+morning, the 26th, that he was on his last day's journey to Lausanne,
+and passing through a pine wood. Suddenly men sprang from ambush upon
+Bonivard, who grasped his sword and spurred, calling to his guide, "Put
+spurs!" But instead of so doing the guide turned and whipped out his
+knife and cut Bonivard's sword-belt; "Whereupon these worthy gentlemen,"
+says Bonivard's _Chronicle_, "jumped on me and took me prisoner in the
+name of my lord duke." Safe-conducts were in vain. A bagful of ropes was
+produced, and he was carried on a mule, bound hand and foot, in secrecy,
+to the duke's castle of Chillon, the captain of which was one of the
+ambuscading party. For six years he was hidden from the world, and at
+first men knew not whether he was alive or dead. But his sufferings at
+the hand of the common foe put to shame the suspicions that had been
+engendered at Geneva, and it is recorded, to the honor of the Genevese,
+that during all that period, whenever negotiations were opened between
+them and the duke of Savoy, the liberation of Bonivard was always
+insisted on as one of the conditions.
+
+The story of the imprisonment is soon told; for, strangely enough, this
+most garrulously egotistical of writers never alludes to it but twice,
+and then briefly. The first two years he was kept in the upper chambers
+of the castle and treated kindly, but at the end of this time the castle
+received a visit from the duke, and from that time forth the Prisoner of
+Chillon was remanded to the awful and sombre crypt. A single sentence in
+his handwriting is all that he tells us of this period, of which he
+might have told so much, and in this he shows a disposition to look at
+the affair rather in its humorous than in its Byronesque aspect. For his
+one recorded reminiscence of his four years of dungeon-life is, that "he
+had such abundant leisure for promenading that he wore in the rock
+pavement a little path as neatly as if it had been done with a
+stone-hammer."[12]
+
+One March morning in 1536 the Prisoner of Chillon heard through the
+windows of his dungeon the sound of a cannonade by land and lake. It was
+the army of Berne, which was finishing its victorious campaign through
+the Pays de Vaud by the siege of the duke's last remaining stronghold,
+the castle of Chillon. They were joyfully aided by a flotilla fitted out
+by Geneva, which had never forgotten its old friend. That night the
+dungeon-door was burst open, and Bonivard and three fellow-prisoners
+were carried off in triumph to Geneva.
+
+Not Rip Van Winkle when he awoke from his long slumber in the Catskills,
+not the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus when they came back from their
+sepulchre and found their city Christian, had a better right to be
+surprised than the prior of St. Victor when he got back to Geneva. Duke
+and bishop and all their functionaries were expelled; priests and
+preaching-friars were gone; the mass was abolished; in the cathedral of
+St. Peter's and all the lesser churches, which had been cleared of
+their images, there were singing of psalms and preaching of fiery
+sermons by Reformers from France; and the streets through which he had
+sometimes had to move by stealth were filled with joyous crowds to hail
+him as a martyr. St. Victor was no more. If he went to look for his old
+home, he found a heap of rubbish, for all the suburbs of the city that
+might give shelter to an enemy had been torn down by the unsparing
+patriots of Geneva, and the trees had been felled. The joyous city had
+ceased, and Bonivard's prophecy to his roystering companions was not
+long in being fulfilled for himself as well as for them: they soon found
+Calvin's little finger to be heavier than the bishop's loins.
+
+And yet the heroic little town showed a noble gratitude toward the old
+friend of its liberties. The house which he chose out of all the city
+was given him for his own and furnished at the public expense. A pension
+of two hundred crowns a year in gold was settled on him, and he was made
+a senator of the republic. To all which was added a condition that he
+should lead a respectable life--a proviso which is practically explained
+in the very next appearance of his name in the records on account of a
+misdemeanor for which his accomplice was ordered to quit the town within
+three days.
+
+The more generous was the town the more exacting became the Martyr. He
+could not get over his free-and-easy way of living in the gay old days
+when the tithes of his benefice yielded him nigh a thousand yellow
+crowns a year. He could not see why he was not entitled to have his
+rents back again; and after a vain effort on the part of the council to
+make him see it, he went off to Berne, where he had been admitted a
+citizen, to ask it to interfere for him, sending back an impudent letter
+renouncing his Geneva citizenship, on the ground that in his reduced
+circumstances he could not afford to be a citizen in two places at once.
+For a while the patient city lost its patience with its unruly
+beneficiary, but the genuine grateful and kindly feeling that every one
+felt for the poor fellow, and the general admiration for his learning
+and wit, conspired with his growing embarrassments to bring about a
+settlement of the affair on the basis of a reduced pension with a round
+lump sum to pay his debts.
+
+They sent for him two or three years later to come to Geneva as
+historiographer, and he came, bringing with him a wife from Berne, who
+died soon after his arrival. For a man of his years, he had a remarkable
+alacrity at getting married, and his second venture was an unlucky one.
+For from the wedding-day onward, when he was not before the council with
+some quarrel or some affair of debt he was apt to come before it to get
+them to compel his wife to live with him, or, failing that, to get her
+money to live on himself. What time could be saved from these
+wranglings, which lasted almost till the poor woman's death, was devoted
+ardently to his literary work. The history grew apace, and other books
+besides. In the seditions of the Libertine party against the austerities
+of the new r�gime the old man took the side of law and order and good
+morals (in his book on _L'ancienne et nouvelle Police de Gen�ve_) with
+an ardor that was the more surprising as one remembered his antecedents.
+In the midst of his toils he found time to get married to a third wife
+and to go to law with his neighbors. He is continually coming to the
+council, sometimes for a little loan to help him with his lawsuits,
+sometimes for relief in his embarrassments. It is touching to see how
+tender they are toward the poor foolish old man. They make him little
+grants from time to time, always looking to it that their money shall be
+applied to the object designated, and not "on his fantasies." They take
+up one of his notes for him, looking to see that it has not been
+tampered with, because "he is easily circumvented and not adroit in his
+business." He complains of the heat during an illness one summer, and
+the seigneurie give him the White Chamber in the town-hall, and when
+winter comes on, and he is old and infirm, they assign him the lodging
+lately occupied by Mathurin Cordier (famous schoolmaster Corderius,
+whose _Dialogues_ were the first book in Latin of our grandfathers),
+because it contained a stove--a rare luxury. He thanks them for their
+kindness as his fathers, and makes them heirs of his library and
+manuscripts.
+
+There was another and more solemn assemblage, his relations with which
+were less tender. This was the consistory of the Church, which found it
+less easy to allow for the old man's infirmities. His first appearance
+before this body was under accusation of playing at dice with Clement
+Marot, another famous character and the sweet singer of the French
+Reformation. He comes next time of his own accord, asking the venerable
+brethren to interfere because his second wife ran away from him on their
+wedding-day, she defending herself on the ground of a bad cold. His
+domestic troubles bring him thither so often as to put the clergy out of
+patience. He is called up for beating his wife, but shows that the
+discipline was needed, and she is admonished to be more obedient in
+future. Later on he is questioned why he does not come to church. He
+can't walk, is the answer. But he is told that if he can get himself
+carried to the h�tel de ville to see the new carvings, he could get
+carried to church. And why does he neglect the communion? _Answer_: He
+has been debarred from it. "Then present your request to be restored."
+So the poor old gentleman presents himself six weeks later, asking to be
+readmitted to the Church; which is granted, but with the remark, entered
+on the record, that he "does not show much contrition in coming with a
+bunch of flowers over his ear--a thing very unbecoming in a man of his
+years."
+
+The dreadful consistory had a principal concern in the affair that
+darkened the declining days of Bonivard with the shadow of a tragedy. An
+escaped nun had found refuge in his lodgings after his third wife's
+death; and after some love-making--on which side was disputed--there was
+a promise of marriage given by him, which, however, he was in no hurry
+to fulfil. The consistory deemed it best to interfere, in the interests
+of propriety, and insist on the marriage; and the decrepit old invalid
+in vain pleaded his age and bodily infirmities. So he was married in
+spite of himself to his nun, and showed his disposition to make the best
+of it by making her a wedding-present of his new Latin treatise, just
+finished, on _The Origin of Evil_, and receiving in tender return a
+Greek copy of the _Philippics_ of Demosthenes. Three years later the
+wretched woman was accused of adultery, and being put to the torture
+confessed her crime and was drowned in a sack, while her paramour was
+beheaded. Bonivard, being questioned, declared his belief of her
+innocence, and that her worst faults were that she wanted to make him
+too pious, and tormented him to begin preaching, and sometimes beat him
+when he had a few friends in to drink.[13]
+
+For five years after this catastrophe the old man lingered, tended by
+hirelings, but watched with filial gratitude by the little state whose
+liberties he had helped to save, and whose heroic history he had
+recorded. He had at least the comfort of having finished that great
+work; and when he brought the manuscript of it to the council, they
+referred it to a committee with Master Calvin at the head; who reported
+that it was written in a rude and familiar style, quite beneath the
+dignity of history, and that for this and other reasons it had better
+not be printed. The precious manuscript was laid on the shelf until in
+the lapse of years it was found that the very reasons why those solemn
+critics rejected it were the things that gave it supreme value to a
+later age. It has been the pride of Geneva scholars to print in elegant
+archaic style every page written by the Prisoner of Chillon in prose or
+verse, on history, polity, philology and theology.
+
+Somewhere about September, 1570, Francis Bonivard died, aged
+seventy-seven, lonely and childless, leaving the city his heir. The
+cherished collection of books that was the comfort of his harassed life
+has grown into the library of a university, and the little walled town
+for whose ancient liberties he ventured such perils and suffered such
+imprisonment is, and for the three hundred years since has been, one of
+the chief radiant centres of light and liberty for all the world.
+LEONARD WOOLSEY BACON.
+
+     NOTE.--Like every subject relating to the history of Geneva,
+     the life of Bonivard has been thoroughly studied by local
+     antiquarians and historians. The most important work on the
+     subject is that of Dr. Chaponni�re, before cited: this is
+     reprinted (but without the documents attached) as a preface
+     to the new edition of the _Chronicles_. M. Edmond Chevrier,
+     in a slight pamphlet (Macon, 1868), gives a critical account
+     both of the man and of his writings. Besides these may be
+     named Vulliemin: _Chillon, �tude historique_, Lausanne,
+     1851; J. Gaberel: _Le Ch�teau de Chillon et Bonivard_,
+     Geneva. Marc Monnier, _Gen�ve et ses Po�tes_ (Geneva, 1847),
+     gives an excellent criticism on Bonivard as author. For
+     original materials consult (besides the work of Chaponni�re)
+     Galiffe: _Mat�riaux pour l'Histoire de Gen�ve_, and Cramer:
+     _Notes extraites des Registres du Consistoire_, a rare book
+     in lithography (Geneva, 1853). A weak little article in the
+     _Catholic World_ for September, 1876, bravely attacks
+     Bonivard as "one of the Protestant models of virtue," and
+     triumphantly proves him to have been far from perfect. The
+     charge, however, that he was "a traitor to his
+     ecclesiastical character," and "quitted his convent and
+     broke his vows," is founded on a blunder. Bonivard never
+     took monastic vows or holy orders, but held his living _in
+     commendam_, as a lay-man. The main resource, however, for
+     Bonivard's life up to his liberation from Chillon is in his
+     own works, especially the _Chronicles_ (Geneva, edition
+     Fick, 1867).
+
+
+
+
+"FOR PERCIVAL."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+WHY NOT LOTTIE?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+It was all over. The neighborhood had paid due honor to Godfrey Thorne.
+Old Garnett, who was kept at home by his gout, had written a letter of
+condolence to Mrs. Middleton, and expressed his deep regret at his
+enforced absence. She was pleased with the letter. She did not care for
+Dick Garnett, but he had known her brother all his life. She would not
+have been so pleased, perhaps, had she seen old Dick grinning and
+showing his fierce old teeth as he wrote it: "Ought to have been
+there--believe I was his best man fifty years ago. But half a century
+takes the shine out of most things--and people too." He shrugged his
+shoulders, eyed the last sentence he had written, and perceiving a
+little space at the end of a line, put in an adjective to make it rather
+warmer. "Won't show," he said to himself--"looks very natural. Lord!
+what a farce it all is! Fifty years ago there was Thorne, like a fool,
+worshipping the very ground Fanny Harvey trod on, and a few years later
+he wasn't particularly sorry to put her safe underneath it. Wonderful
+coal-scuttle of a bonnet she wore that wedding-day, to be sure! And I
+was best man!" Dick chuckled at the thought. "I shouldn't look much like
+best man now. Ah, well! I mayn't be best, but I'm a better man than old
+Godfrey to-day, anyhow." (And so, no doubt, for this world's affairs,
+Richard Garnett was, on the principle that "a living dog is better than
+a dead lion.") "And the candlemaker's daughter begins her reign, for
+that poor lad will never marry. Upon my word, I believe I'm a better man
+than Master Horace now. And I'm not likely to play the fool with
+physic-bottles, either: I know a little better than _that_." No, Aunt
+Harriet would not have liked Garnett's train of thought as he folded and
+addressed the letter which pleased her. And yet the old fellow meant the
+best he could.
+
+And now it was all over, and Brackenhill would know Godfrey Thorne no
+more. But for that one day he was still all-powerful, for they had met
+to hear his will read.
+
+Horace sat by the table with an angry line between his brows, and
+balanced a paper-knife on his finger. He tried to appear composed, but a
+shiver of impatience ran through him more than once, and the color came
+and went on his cheek. His mother was by his side, controlling her face
+to a rigidly funereal expression. But the effort was evident.
+
+Godfrey Hammond said to himself, "Those two expect the worst. And if the
+worst comes, if Percival is mistaken and Horace is cut off with just a
+pittance, we shall see what Hunting Harry's temper really is. We may
+have an unpleasant quarter of an hour, but it will give us a vivid idea
+of the end of the millennium, I fancy."
+
+Aunt Harriet was unfeignedly troubled and anxious.
+
+Percival was rather in the background. Sitting on one chair, he laid his
+folded arms on the back of another and rested his chin on his wrists. In
+this attitude he gazed at Hardwicke with the utter calm of an Assyrian
+statue. He felt his pulses throbbing, and it seemed to him as if his
+anxiety must betray itself. But it did not. If you have a little
+self-restraint and presence of mind you can affect to have much.
+Percival had that little.
+
+Just before Hardwicke began to read Mrs. James leant toward her son and
+whispered with an air of mystery. He answered with a short and sullen
+nod.
+
+Hardwicke read clearly but monotonously. The will was dated four days
+after Alfred Thorne's death--not only before Percival came to
+Brackenhill, but before any overtures had been made to him. Mrs.
+Middleton came first with a legacy of ten thousand pounds and a few
+things which the dead man knew she prized--their mother's portrait and
+one or two memorials of himself. Sissy had five thousand pounds and a
+small portion of the family jewels, which were very splendid. His
+godson, Godfrey Hammond, had three pictures and a ring, all of
+considerable value, and two or three other things, which, though of less
+importance, had been looked upon as heirlooms by successive generations
+of Thornes. Hammond perfectly understood the wilful pride and remorseful
+pangs with which that bequest was made.
+
+Then came small legacies to old friends. Duncan the butler and one or
+two of the elder servants had annuities, and the others were not
+forgotten. Two local charitable institutions had a hundred pounds each.
+By this time Horace was white to his very lips and drawing his breath
+painfully. Percival preserved an appearance of calm, but he could feel
+his strong, irregular heart-throbs as he leant against the chair.
+
+The lawyer went on to read the words which gave Brackenhill to Horace
+for his life. If he died and left no son to inherit the estate, it was
+to go to Percival Thorne. But unless Horace died first, and died
+childless, Percival would not take sixpence under his grandfather's
+will.
+
+It was a heavy blow, and his lips and hands tightened a little as he met
+it. He had known that the great prize was for his cousin, but he had
+fancied that there might be some trifling legacy for him. He would have
+been more thankful than words could say for half the annuity which was
+left to the butler. The remembrance of that paper which but for him
+would have been all powerful rose vividly before his eyes. Did he repent
+now that he was certain of the greatness of the sacrifice? Again from
+the bottom of his heart he answered, No. But even while Hardwicke read
+the words which doomed him to beggary it almost seemed to young Thorne
+as if the wrinkled waxen face and shrunken figure must suddenly become
+visible in the background to protest--as if a dead hand must be laid on
+that lying will which was itself more dead than the newly-buried corpse.
+Even in that bitter moment Percival was sorry for the poor old squire.
+
+Hardwicke finished, and thought it all very well. He did not pity the
+young fellow opposite him who had listened so intently and now was
+looking thoughtfully into space. The lawyer summed up Percival's
+position in his own mind thus:
+
+He had an income of his own, amount unknown, but as during Alfred
+Thorne's life it had sufficed for both, it must be more than enough to
+support the son.
+
+He was engaged to Sissy Langton. Her father had left her at least eight
+hundred pounds a year, besides which there were all the accumulations of
+a long minority and this legacy. Mr. Hardwicke thought that the united
+incomes would be more than fifteen hundred pounds a year.
+
+There were expectations too. Mrs. Middleton was rich, and though some of
+her property would revert to her husband's family, Hardwicke knew that
+she had saved a considerable sum. He had no doubt that those savings and
+her brother's ten thousand pounds would go to Sissy, and consequently to
+Percival.
+
+And lastly he looked at the new owner of Brackenhill. No, Mr. Hardwicke
+did not pity Mr. Percival Thorne.
+
+All these thoughts had flashed through his mind as he folded the paper
+and laid it down. Mrs. Middleton broke the silence. "But Percival--" she
+exclaimed in utter bewilderment: "I don't understand. What does
+Percival have?"
+
+"Nothing," said the young man quickly, lifting his head and facing her
+with a brave smile.
+
+"Nothing? It isn't possible! It isn't right!"
+
+"That will was made before ever I came here. It doesn't mean any
+unkindness to me, for he didn't know me."
+
+"But did he never make another?--Horace!--Oh, Mr. Hardwicke, _you_ know
+Godfrey never meant this! That was what his letter was about, then?"
+
+"He intended to make some change, no doubt," said Hardwicke.
+
+"Perhaps Mr. Percival Thorne would like to dispute the will." It was
+evident that Mrs. James perfectly comprehended the position. Aunt
+Harriet looked helplessly at her boy, unable to understand his silence.
+
+Horace, though unconscious of the glance, rose suddenly to his feet. "I
+want to understand," he began in a high thin voice--an unnatural
+voice--which all at once grew hoarse.
+
+"Yes--what?" said Hardwicke, looking up at the young man, who rested
+both his quivering hands on the table to support himself. All eyes were
+turned to the one erect figure.
+
+"That"--Horace nodded at the will--"that makes me master here, eh?"
+
+"Undoubtedly," Hardwicke replied, wondering whether Horace was unusually
+slow of comprehension.
+
+"Nothing can alter it?" said Horace. "I may do what I please in
+everything? I want to be sure."
+
+"You can't sell it, if you mean that," said the lawyer. "Didn't you
+understand? You have only--"
+
+"I know--I know that." The interruption was hasty, as if the speaker
+would not be reminded of an unpleasant truth.
+
+Hardwicke's eyes rested on the two hands which were pressed on the
+table. They were painfully weak and white. "You are master here," he
+said gently. "Certainly. Your grandfather has made no conditions
+whatever. Brackenhill is yours for your life."
+
+Horace looked fixedly at him, and half opened his lips as if to speak,
+but no sound came. It was so evident that he had something to say that
+the others waited in strained anxiety, and no one spoke except Mrs.
+James. She laid her fingers on his and said, "Now--why not now?"
+
+"Leave me to manage it," he answered, and drew his hand away, provoking
+a lofty "Oh, _very_ well!" He walked hurriedly to the hearth-rug and
+stood in the master's place with an air of having taken possession.
+Hardwicke moved his chair a little, so as to look sideways at the new
+squire: Hammond put up his glass.
+
+Mrs. James was like a living explanation of the text, "As an adamant
+harder than flint have I made thy forehead." Though she was sulky and
+persistently silent, there was a lurking triumph in her eyes, and it was
+easy to see that she listened eagerly for the words which seemed to die
+on her son's lips. He glanced quickly round, stepped back, and rested
+his elbow on the chimney-piece so awkwardly that a small china cup fell
+and was shivered to atoms on the hearth.
+
+"Oh, Horace!" exclaimed Aunt Harriet.
+
+"It's mine," said the young man with a nervous little laugh. "And--since
+Brackenhill is mine too--it is time that my wife should come home."
+
+There was a startled movement and a sudden exclamation of surprise,
+though it would have been impossible to say who moved or spoke.
+
+"Your wife! Do you mean that you are going to be married?" said
+Hardwicke.
+
+"No. I mean that I am married," Horace replied. "Oh, it's all right
+enough. I took care of that. You shall know all about it."
+
+"But how? when? who is she?" Mrs. Middleton had her hand on his arm and
+was stammering in her eagerness. "Oh, my dear boy, why didn't we know?"
+
+"Because Mrs. Horace Thorne was Miss Adelaide Blake," said Hammond
+decisively.
+
+Horace turned upon him and said "No," and he was utterly confounded.
+
+"But who, then? Tell us."
+
+Horace looked at Percival, the only one who had been silent. "Why not
+Lottie?" he said, and the tone was full of meaning.
+
+Percival stared at him for a moment, and then leapt to his feet. "It
+isn't true!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Indeed! And why not?" said Horace. "If I may ask--"
+
+"Lottie do anything underhand! Lottie! It can't be true!"
+
+"You're very kind, but Lottie doesn't want your championship, thank
+you," said Horace with an angry sneer. "No doubt you find it very
+incredible that she should prefer mine."
+
+"Oh, by all means, if it suits her," scoffed Percival, and sat down
+again, feeling stunned, robbed and duped.
+
+"And as to anything underhand--" Horace began fiercely.
+
+Aunt Harriet, scared by the menacing clash of words, uttered a faint
+little cry.
+
+"Percival! Horace!" said Godfrey Hammond, "you forget what day this
+is--you forget Mrs. Middleton. For God's sake don't quarrel before
+her!--Horace, is this really true? Is Lottie your wife?"
+
+"Yes," said the young man, turning quickly toward him: there was a
+sudden light of tenderness in his glance--"since last November." He
+paused, and then added softly, "the third," as if the date were
+something sacred. "Hammond, you know her: you know how young she
+is--only eighteen this month. If you choose to blame any one, blame me.
+And I'm not ashamed of what I've done." He looked defiantly round. "I'm
+proud of having won her; and as to my having concealed it, I ask you, in
+common fairness, what else could I do? My grandfather used to be very
+good to me, but of late he was set against me." A quick glance at
+Percival, who smiled loftily. "Whatever I did was wrong. If I'd told him
+I was going to marry a princess, it wouldn't have satisfied him. Since
+this time last year I've hardly had a good word. I've been watched and
+lectured, and treated like an outsider here, in my own home. You know
+it's true, and you know to whom I owe it. I never expected to have my
+rights: I thought my grandfather would have no peace till I was driven
+out of Brackenhill. And even now I can't understand how it is that I am
+master here." Percival smiled again, to himself this time. "But Lottie
+was willing to share my poverty--God bless her!--and I won't let an hour
+go by without owning my wife. I should be ashamed of myself if I did."
+
+Horace paused, not unconscious of the weakness of his position, yet more
+like the Horace of old days to look at--flushed, with a happy loyalty in
+his eyes and his proud head high in the air.
+
+"No one will blame you for marrying the girl you loved," said Percival
+in his strong voice. "That is exactly what my father did. It is true
+that you manage matters in a different way, and naturally the result is
+different." He rose. "I prefer my father's way--result and all." And
+with a bow to the assembled company young Thorne walked out of the room.
+
+Horace looked round to see how the attack was received--at Aunt Harriet,
+who was wiping away the quick coming tears; at Hardwicke, who was
+looking at the door through which Percival had vanished; at Hammond, who
+came forward a step or two. "I ordered a dog-cart to come over from
+Fordborough for me," he said. "If you will allow me I will ring and have
+it brought round."
+
+"You are going?" said Horace.
+
+"We shall just catch the four-o'clock train very comfortably if we go
+now," Godfrey replied. "Thorne will prefer going by that."
+
+"I see: you take his part. Very well. I suppose sooner or later you must
+choose between us: as well now as later." Horace rang the bell.
+
+"Horace," said Hammond, dropping his voice, yet speaking in the same
+tone of authority he had used once before that day, "for the first time
+in your life Mrs. Middleton is your guest. If you have a spark of right
+feeling--and you have more than that--you will not make her position
+here more painful than it must be. We will defer all discussion: there
+_must_ be a truce while she is here.--My dog-cart," he said over his
+shoulder to the servant. "It was to come from Fordborough. At
+once.--Keep out of the way ten minutes hence when your cousin goes," he
+added to Horace: "it will be best."
+
+The young squire bent his head in sulky acquiescence.
+
+"I shall take Percival with me," said Hammond to Mrs. Middleton as he
+went by. "He wants to be off, I know, and I shall be of more use with
+him than here."
+
+He found Percival crushing his things into his little portmanteau and in
+hot haste to get away from Brackenhill.
+
+"I'm going by the four train," Hammond remarked, "and I've told them
+you'll drive with me."
+
+"In one of _his_ carriages?" said young Thorne, looking up with furious
+eyes. "No, thank you: I'll walk."
+
+"If you jumped out of that window you wouldn't have to go down his
+staircase," said Hammond.
+
+"Oh, if you came here to--" began the young man, tugging at a strap.
+
+"I came here to ask you to drive with me in the dog-cart from the Crown.
+It's no use pulling a strap _much_ past the tightest hole. Come, you are
+not going to quarrel with me?"
+
+"I'm a fool," said Percival. "I shall feel it all in a minute or two, I
+suppose. Just now I only feel that everything belongs to the man who has
+duped me, and every breath I draw is choking me."
+
+"I understand," returned Hammond. "Percival, Mrs. Middleton is coming: I
+hear her step. For her sake--to-day--Thorne, you will not break her
+heart?"
+
+The old lady was knocking at the half-open door. "Come in," said
+Percival in a gentle voice. His portmanteau was strapped, and he rose as
+she entered. "Come to say good-bye to me, Aunt Harriet? I'm off, you
+see."
+
+"Oh, Percival, I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "Horace
+married--_married_! And you going away like this! It is like a dream."
+
+"So it seems to me," said the young man.
+
+"And one of those Miss Blakes! Oh dear! what would Godfrey have said?
+Oh, Percival, he never meant this!" She had her hand to her forehead as
+she spoke.
+
+"No," said Percival. "But don't fret about me: I shall do very well."
+
+"But it isn't right. Oh, I don't know what to say or think, I am so
+bewildered. Perhaps Horace has hardly had time to think yet, has he?"
+she said faintly. "He will do something, I'm sure--"
+
+"He mustn't--don't let him! I can hold my tongue if I'm let alone. But
+if he insults me--" said Percival. "Aunt Harriet, for God's sake,
+_don't_ let him offer me money."
+
+"Ah!" in an accent of pain. "But my money! Percival, do you want any?
+It's a good thing, as _he_ said, that Mr. Lisle didn't fail before you
+came into yours, but if you want any--"
+
+"But I don't," said Percival. "As you say, it's a good thing I have some
+of my own." He had his fingers in his waistcoat pocket, and was
+wondering which of the coins that he felt there would prove to be gold.
+It was an important question. "Don't vex yourself about me, Aunt
+Harriet. Kiss me and say good-bye: there isn't much time, is there? Tell
+Sissy--" he stopped abruptly.
+
+"What?" said the old lady.
+
+"Tell her--I don't know. You'll let me hear how she is. You've been very
+good to me, Aunt Harriet. It's best as it is about Sissy, isn't it,
+seeing how things have turned out?"
+
+He caught up his luggage and went quickly out, but only to turn and
+pause irresolutely in the doorway.
+
+"I'll not say anything about Horace: we are best apart. But Lottie! I
+liked Lottie: we were very good friends when she was a school-girl. She
+is very young still. Perhaps she didn't understand. I ought to say this,
+because you never knew her, and I did."
+
+And having said it, he went away with a light on his sombre face. Mrs.
+Middleton looked up at Hammond with streaming eyes and shook her head:
+"I shall never like that girl: I shall never have anything to do with
+her. Godfrey was right."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Percival was his favorite always."
+
+"I'll look after him," said Hammond; and with a quick pressure of her
+hand he followed the young man down stairs.
+
+As they drove away Percival sat erect and grave, with a face as darkly
+still as if it were moulded in bronze. He went away from the dear old
+house without one backward glance: Horace might be looking out. He never
+spoke, and when they reached the station he took his ticket and got into
+the carriage without the least reference to Hammond, who followed him
+quietly. There was no one else with them. The silence was unbroken till
+they drew near their journey's end, when Thorne took out his ticket and
+examined it curiously. "I wonder if I shall ever see another?" he said.
+
+"Another what?"
+
+"First-class ticket. I ought to have gone third."
+
+"You get an opportunity of studying character, no doubt. But I think
+this is better to-day," said Hammond.
+
+Percival was silent for a moment. Then he spread all his money on his
+open hand and eyed it: "What do you think of that for a fortune, eh,
+Godfrey?"
+
+Godfrey glanced at the little constellation of gold and silver coins.
+"Wants a little more spending," he said. "Two-pence halfpenny is the
+mystic sum which turns to millions. So Lisle has swindled you, has he? I
+thought as much."
+
+Percival nodded: "Keep my secret. They sha'n't say that I lived on my
+grandfather first, and then on Aunt Harriet or Sissy. They may find it
+out later, and welcome if I have shown them that I can do without them
+all."
+
+"Ah yes," said Hammond a little vaguely. "Here we are."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+LOTTIE WINS.
+
+
+Percival had not been wrong about Lottie: she had at any rate only
+partially understood what she was doing. The poor child had been
+bitterly humiliated by the discovery that he did not love her, and felt
+that she was disgraced for life by her ill-judged advance. The feeling
+was high-flown and exaggerated no doubt, but one hardly expects to find
+all the cool wisdom of Ecclesiastes in a brain of seventeen. Lottie,
+flying from Percival's scorn as she supposed, was ready for any
+desperate leap. What wonder that she took one into Horace's open arms!
+How could she find a better salve for wounded pride than by captivating
+the man who had passed her by as nothing but a child, and who had been,
+as she would have said, "much too great a swell to take any notice of
+_her_"? He had dangled in a half-hearted fashion after Addie, and had
+given himself airs. Wounded vanity had attracted him to Lottie, but,
+smitten by sudden passion, he wooed her hotly, with an eagerness which
+startled even himself. How could she be unconscious of the difference
+and of her triumph? Percival Thorne, who had slighted her, should see
+her reigning at Brackenhill!
+
+Proud, pleased, grateful, excited, dizzy with success, Lottie was swept
+away by the torrent of mingled feelings. Her sorrow for her father's
+death was violent, but not lasting. She could not feel his loss for any
+length of time, she had always been so much more her mother's child.
+Even during her mourning there was something of romance in Horace's
+letters of comfort, for Horace, who had always been the laziest
+correspondent in the world, wrote ardent letters to Lottie, and used all
+the hackneyed yet ever fresh expedients for transmitting them which have
+been bequeathed to us by generations of bygone lovers. There were
+meetings too, more romantic still. No one is so sentimental as the man
+who is startled out of a languid scorn of sentiment. He does not know
+where to stop. Horace would have been capable of serenading Lottie if
+Mrs. Blake would only have slept on the other side of the house.
+
+Addie was unconscious of the fiery romance which went on close at hand.
+She felt that the languid attentions which she had prized were fading
+away and would never ripen to anything more. Her sorrow for her father's
+death was deeper than Lottie's, and while it was fresh she hardly
+thought of Horace Thorne's coldness, except as a part of the general
+dreariness of life, and did not attempt to seek out its cause. Even Mrs.
+Blake never for a moment expected the revelation which was made to her
+near the beginning of October.
+
+It was Lottie who told her, coming to her one night with a white face of
+agony and resolution.
+
+Horace was dangerously ill. He had been ill before, but this was
+something altogether different. The cold which led to such alarming
+results had been caught in one of his secret expeditions to see Lottie.
+She had been forced to keep him waiting, and a chilly September rain had
+drenched him to the skin. He had gone away in his wet clothes, had tried
+to pretend that there was nothing amiss with him, and had gone out the
+next day in order to be able to attribute his cold to a ride in the
+north-east wind. Since that time Lottie had had three letters--the first
+a gallant little attempt at gayety and hopefulness; the second, after a
+considerable interval, depressed and anxious. They had ordered him
+abroad. "I am sure they think badly of me," he wrote, "though I'll cheat
+the grave yet--if I can. But how am I to live through the winter in some
+horrible hole of a place without my darling? Suppose I get worse instead
+of better, and die out there, and never see you again--never once?" And
+so on for a page of forebodings. Lottie's fondness for him, fanned by
+pity and remorse--was it not for her that he had risked his
+life?--flamed up to passion. They say that a woman always puts the real
+meaning of her letter into the postscript. I don't know how that may be,
+but I do not think she would ever fail to give full weight to any
+postscript she might receive. Horace's postscript was, "After all, I've
+a great mind to stay in England and chance it."
+
+Lottie was terrified. She replied, wildly entreating him to go, and
+vowing that they should meet again and not be parted. She did not yet
+know what she would do, but--Then followed a few notes of music roughly
+dashed in.
+
+He was puzzled. He tried the notes furtively on the piano, but they told
+him nothing. That day, however, there came to his mother's house a girl
+with whom he had had one of his numerous flirtations in bygone days. He
+asked her to play to him, and then to sing, hanging over the piano
+meanwhile, and thrilling her with his apparent devotion and with the
+melancholy which reminded her of the fate which threatened him. When she
+had finished her song he said, "But you'll sing me one more, won't you?
+I sha'n't have the chance again, you know." He looked down as he spoke
+and struck the notes which haunted him. "Do you know what that is?" he
+asked. "It has been going in my head all day, and I can't put a name to
+it."
+
+She tried it after him. "What _is_ it?" she said: "I ought to remember,"
+and paused, finger on lip. Horace's eager eyes flashed upon hers, when
+she suddenly exclaimed, "I know. It's one of Chappell's old songs;" and,
+dashing her hands victoriously upon the keys, she sang "Love will find
+out the way."
+
+"Ah!" said Horace, and stood erect in a glow of passion and triumph. He
+remembered himself enough to ask again for one more song, but when, with
+a wistful tremor in her voice, she said, "This? you used to like this,"
+he assented, without an idea what it was, and dropped into the nearest
+arm-chair to ponder Lottie's message. He was quite unconscious that the
+girl at his side was singing "O Fair Dove! O Fond Dove!" with an
+earnestness of meaning, a pathos and a power, which she never attained
+before or since. But he was sorry when she stopped, for he had to come
+out of a most wonderful castle in the air and say "Thank you." When she
+went away he looked vaguely at her and let her hand fall, as was only
+natural. How we listen for the postman when we are longing for a letter
+and sick with hope deferred! But who thinks of him when he has dropped
+it into the box and is going down the street? Horace felt almost sure as
+he said good-bye that Love _had_ found out the way.
+
+And his next note sent Lottie to her mother.
+
+Mrs. Blake was utterly confounded when her younger daughter announced
+that she was engaged to Horace Thorne. "It was no good saying anything,"
+said Lottie frankly, "for his old wretch of a grandfather wouldn't think
+we were good enough to marry into _his_ family, and I dare say he would
+go and leave all his money to Percival if Horace thwarted him. So we
+thought we would wait. People can't live _very_ much longer when they
+are seventy-seven, can they? At least they do sometimes, I know," Lottie
+added, pulling herself up. "You see them in the newspapers sometimes in
+their ninety-eighth or ninety-seventh year, I've noticed lately. But I'm
+sure it will be very wicked if he lives twenty years more. And now
+Horace is ill, and we can't wait. For he must not and shall not go away,
+and perhaps die, without me." And Lottie broke down and wept.
+
+"But what do you want to do?" said Mrs. Blake. It was a shock to her,
+and she was sorry for Addie, but she could not repress a thrill of
+exultation at the thought that Horace Thorne, whom she had so coveted
+for a son-in-law, was caught. The state of his health was serious of
+course, but they must hope for the best, and the idea of an alliance
+with one of the leading county families dazzled her.
+
+"We want to be married before he goes out, and nobody to know anything
+about it," said Lottie; "and then you must take me abroad this winter."
+
+Mrs. Blake declared that it was utterly impossible.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Lottie, drying her tears. "Then I give you fair
+warning. I shall run away, and get to Horace somehow. I don't know
+whether we can get married abroad--"
+
+"I should think not--a child like you, without my consent," said Mrs.
+Blake.
+
+"No, I suppose we couldn't. Well, then, it will be your doing, you know,
+if we are not. _I_ shouldn't like to have such a thing on my
+conscience," said Lottie virtuously. "But perhaps you don't mind."
+
+Mrs. Blake said that it was impossible that Lottie could be so lost to
+all sense of propriety, so wicked, so unwomanly--
+
+The girl stood opposite, slim, white and resolute. Her slender hands
+hung loosely clasped before her and a fierce spark burned in her eyes.
+
+"Oh, that's impossible too, is it?" she said quietly. "We'll see."
+
+Mrs. Blake quailed, but murmured something about her "authority."
+
+"Oh yes," was the calm reply. "You might lock me up. Try it: I think I
+should get out. Make a fuss and ruin Horace and me. That you _can_ do,
+but keep us apart you can't."
+
+"You don't know, you can't know, what it is you talk of doing, or you
+couldn't stand there without blushing."
+
+"Very likely not," said Lottie. "But since I know enough to do it--"
+
+"You are a wicked, wilful child."
+
+"Wicked? Perhaps. Yes, I think I am wicked. I'm a child, I know. Help
+me, mother, for I love him!"
+
+The argument was prolonged, but the end could not be doubtful. Mrs.
+Blake could scold and bluster, but Lottie was determined. The mother was
+in bondage to Mrs. Grundy: the daughter played the trump card of her
+utter recklessness and won the game.
+
+Having yielded, Mrs. Blake threw herself heart and soul into the scheme.
+She announced that painful recollections made Fordborough impossible as
+a place of residence, that Lottie was looking ill, and that they both
+required a thorough change. She dropped judiciously disagreeable remarks
+about her stepson till Addie was up in arms, and said that her mother
+and Lottie might go where they liked, but she should go to her aunt,
+Miss Blake, till Oliver, who was on his way, came home. Then Mrs. Blake
+shut up her house and went quietly off to Folkestone: Horace was to
+start from Dover in rather more than a fortnight's time.
+
+[Illustration: "DO YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT I HAVE SAID?"--Page 66.]
+
+After that the course was clear. Horace found out that he was worse, and
+must put off his departure for a week or ten days. Then, when the time
+originally fixed arrived, he said that he was better and would start at
+once. Naturally, Mrs. James was not ready, and he discovered that the
+house was intolerable with her dressmakers and packing, that he must
+break the journey somewhere, and that he might as well wait for her at
+Dover. The morning after his arrival there he took the train to
+Folkestone, met Lottie and her mother, went straight to the church, and
+came back to Dover a lonely but triumphant bridegroom, while Mrs. Blake
+and Mrs. Horace Thorne crossed at once to Boulogne.
+
+It was necessary that Mrs. James should be enlightened, but Horace was
+not alarmed: he knew that she had no choice but to make common cause
+with him. Mrs. Blake, however, could hardly make up her mind what should
+be done about Addie. She more than suspected that the tidings would be a
+painful humiliation to her daughter. "We mustn't tell her," she said at
+last to Lottie. "She might be spiteful: it wouldn't be safe."
+
+"It will be quite safe," said Lottie. "Because of what we used to say
+about Horace, you mean? But that is just what makes it safe. I know
+Addie: she won't let any one say that she betrayed me because she wanted
+Horace herself once. She _said_ she didn't, but I think there was
+something in it; and if there was, she'd be torn in pieces sooner than
+let any one say so."
+
+There was a curious straightforwardness about Lottie, even while she
+schemed and plotted. She calculated the effect of her sister's
+tenderness for Horace as frankly and openly as one might reckon on a
+tide or a train, and behaved as if the old saying, "All is fair in love
+and war," were one of the Thirty-nine Articles.
+
+She wrote her letter without difficulty or hesitation. It was after
+Horace had joined them, and he laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as
+she was contemplating her new signature.
+
+"Nearly done?" he said. "And who is to have the benefit of all this?"
+
+"Addie: she ought to know."
+
+"Ah!" There was something of uneasiness in his tone, as if an unpleasant
+idea had been presented to him. Horace had felt, when he arranged his
+secret marriage, that he and Lottie were doing a daring and romantic
+deed, and risking all for love in a truly heroic fashion. But when she
+told him that she had written to Addie the matter wore a less heroic
+aspect. Lottie might be unconscious of this in her sweet sincerity,
+thought the ardent lover, but he remembered old days and felt like
+anything but a hero.
+
+"Do you want to see what I have said?" She tilted her chair backward and
+looked up at him with her great clear eyes.
+
+"No," Horace answered with a smile: "I'm not going to pry into your
+letters." In his heart he knew that it was impossible to put the
+revelation of their secret to Addie into any words that would not be
+painful to him to read.
+
+"Shall I give any message for you?"
+
+"N-no," said Horace, doubtfully: "I think not."
+
+"It might be considered more civil if you sent one."
+
+"Then say anything you please," was the half-reluctant rejoinder.
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to invent your messages, you lazy boy! A likely
+story!" Lottie sprang up and put the pen into his hand: "There! write
+for yourself, sir."
+
+Horace thought that a refusal would betray his feelings about Addie, and
+he sat down, wondering what he was going to say. But his eye was caught
+by the last two words of the letter, "LOTTIE THORNE;" and as he looked
+at them the young husband forgot Addie and his lips curved in a tender
+smile.
+
+"Make haste," said Lottie from the window--"make haste and come to me."
+
+Horace started from his happy reverie, set his teeth and wrote:
+
+"DEAR ADDIE: I suppose Lottie has told you everything. It was a reckless
+thing to do, no doubt: perhaps you will say it was wrong and underhand.
+Some people will, I dare say, but I hope you won't, for I should like to
+start with your good wishes. May I call myself
+
+"Your brother, H.T.?"
+
+In due time came the answer:
+
+"DEAR HORACE: I will not pass judgment on you and your doings: I am not
+clever in arguing such matters. I will only say (which is more to the
+point, isn't it?) that you and Lottie have my best wishes for the
+safe-keeping of your secret, and anything I can do to help you I will.
+We are having very cold damp weather, so I am glad you are safe in a
+warmer climate, and hope you are the better for it.
+
+"Your affectionate sister,
+
+"ADELAIDE BLAKE."
+
+Horace showed this to Lottie, and then thrust it away and forgot it all
+as quickly as he could. Addie had read this little scrap in her own
+room, had stood for a moment staring at it, had kissed it suddenly, then
+torn it into a dozen pieces and stamped upon it. Then she gathered up
+the fragments, sighed over them, burnt them, and vowed she would think
+no more of it or him. But as she went about the house there floated
+continually before her eyes, "Your brother, H.T.;" and the word which
+had been so sweet to her, which had always meant her dear old Noll, and
+which she had uttered so triumphantly to Percival in Langley Wood when
+she said "I have a brother," became her torment.
+
+Horace felt like a hero again when he forgot Addie, and only remembered
+how he was risking his grandfather's displeasure for his love's sake. He
+fully thought, as he had said, that he was Esau, and that smooth Jacob
+would win a large share of the inheritance; but when he stood with his
+back to the fireplace at Brackenhill, and knew that he was master of
+all, Percival's parting sneer awoke his old doubts as to his heroism
+once more. He had succeeded too well, and the risk which had ennobled
+his conduct in his own eyes would never be realized by others.
+Percival's attempt to supplant him had been foiled, and Horace was
+triumphant, yet he regretted the glaring contrast in their positions
+which rendered comparisons of their respective merits inevitable. But he
+could do nothing. Percival had said, "Don't let him offer me money."
+Horace, keener-sighted than Aunt Harriet, had not the slightest
+intention of doing so. He knew how such overtures would be received;
+and, after all, Brackenhill was his by right! And had not Percival
+plenty to live on?
+
+And as for himself, let who would turn their backs on him--even Aunt
+Harriet, if it must be so--he had Lottie, and could defy the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+A START IN LIFE.
+
+
+For some days after he left Brackenhill, Percival was busy arranging his
+affairs. His ruin was remarkably complete. He had been running up bills
+in every direction during the last month or two, intending to pay for
+everything before his marriage out of the funds which were in Mr.
+Lisle's hands. He had plenty there, he knew, for his method of saving
+had been to live principally on his grandfather's supplies, and to leave
+his own to accumulate under his guardian's care--a plan which had always
+seemed to him admirably simple, as indeed it had proved to be. Lately he
+had not received much from the squire, because the old man so fully
+intended to provide for his favorite once and for all on the approaching
+wedding-day. Percival got some of the tradesmen to take back their
+goods, and sold off everything he had to meet the rest of the claims
+against him. Even the watch his grandfather had given him went, on
+Bombastes Furioso's theory that
+
+    Watches were made to go.
+
+Hammond was urgent that he should accept a loan. "It isn't friendly to
+be so infernally proud," said Godfrey.
+
+"What do you call being 'infernally proud'?" Percival retorted. "I've
+been living on you for the last fortnight; and I bought myself a silver
+watch this morning, and I've got two pounds seventeen shillings and
+sevenpence and a big portmanteau full of clothes. I don't _want_ your
+money."
+
+It was after dinner. Hammond filled his glass and pushed the bottle to
+his guest. "What do you mean to do?" he asked.
+
+"Ah, that's the question," answered Percival. "Do you happen to know if
+one has to pass much of an examination to qualify one for breaking
+stones on the roads now-a-days? Not that I should like that much;" and
+he sipped his claret reflectively. "It would be rather monotonous,
+wouldn't it? And I can't help thinking that bits would get into one's
+eyes."
+
+"I think so too," said Godfrey. "Emigrate."
+
+"That advice would be good in some cases. But addressed to any one who
+is notoriously helpless its meaning is obvious."
+
+"Are you notoriously helpless?"
+
+"Am I not?"
+
+"Well, perhaps. What does it mean, then?"
+
+"It is a civil way of saying, 'Ruin is inevitably before you--gradual
+descent in the social scale, ending in misery and starvation. _Would_
+you be so kind as to go through the process a few thousand miles away,
+instead of just outside my front door?' I don't say you mean that--"
+
+"I'm sure I won't say I don't," Hammond interrupted him. "Very likely I
+do: I don't pretend to be any better than my neighbors. But that doesn't
+matter. If you are so clear-sighted that there's no sending you off
+under a happy delusion, it would be mere brutality to urge you to
+undergo sea-sickness in the search for such a fate. As you say, it is
+attainable here. Will you turn tutor?"
+
+Percival winced: "That sort of thing isn't easy to get into, is it? I
+doubt if I've the least aptitude for teaching, and I never went to
+college. I should be a very inferior article--not hall-marked."
+
+"Then write," said Godfrey.
+
+"Cudgel my lazy brains to produce trash, and hate my worthless work,
+which probably wouldn't sell. I haven't it in me, Godfrey." There was a
+pause.--"By Jove, though, I _will_ write!" said Percival suddenly.
+
+"What will you write?"
+
+"Anything. I'll be a lawyer's clerk."
+
+"But, my good fellow, you'll have to pay to be articled. I fear you
+won't make a living for years."
+
+"Articled? nonsense! I'll be a copying-clerk--one of those fellows who
+sit perched up on high stools at a desk all day. I _can_ write, at any
+rate, so that will be an honest way of getting my living--the only one I
+can see."
+
+Hammond was startled, and expostulated, but in vain. The relief of a
+decision was so great that Percival clung to it. Hammond talked of a
+situation in a bank, but Percival hated figures. His scheme gave him a
+chance of cutting himself loose from all former associations and
+beginning a new, unknown and lonely life. "No one will take any notice
+of a lawyer's clerk," he said. "I want to get away and hide myself. I
+don't want to go into anything where I shall be noticed and encouraged,
+and expected to rise--don't let any one ever expect me to rise, for I
+certainly sha'n't--nor where any one can say, 'That is Thorne of
+Brackenhill's grandson.' I'm shipwrecked, and I've no heart for new
+ventures."
+
+"Not just at present," said Godfrey.
+
+"Never," said the other. "I'm not the stuff a successful man is made of,
+and what I want isn't likely to be gained in business. I might earn
+millions, I fancy, if I set them steadily before my eyes and loved the
+means for the end's sake, easier than I could get what I covet--three or
+four hundred a year, plenty of leisure, and brain and habits unspoilt by
+money-making. There's no chance for the man who not only hasn't the
+necessary keenness, but wouldn't like to have it. If you want to say,
+'More fool you!' you may."
+
+Hammond shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
+
+"Stick to your money, Godfrey," said Thorne with a melancholy smile, "or
+you'll feel some day as if the ground were cut away from under your
+feet. It isn't pleasant."
+
+"I'll take your word for it," said Hammond.
+
+Percival mused a little. "It's hard, somehow," he said. "I didn't want
+much and I wasn't reckless: upon my word, it's hard. Well, it can't be
+helped. Look here: do you know a lawyer who would suit me?"
+
+"Is that the way you mean to apply for a situation? Let us see: will
+Your Highness stay in town?"
+
+"And meet all sorts of people? My Highness will not."
+
+"In the country, then?"
+
+"No, a big town--the bigger the better--some great manufacturing place,
+where every one has smuts on his face, money in his pocket, and is too
+busy improving machinery to have time to look at his neighbor."
+
+"Would Brenthill do?"
+
+"Admirably."
+
+"I know a man there: I dare say he would as soon oblige me as not. What
+shall I say?"
+
+"Say that I want employment as a clerk, and that, though I am utterly
+inexperienced, I write a good hand and am fairly intelligent. Don't say
+that I am active and obliging, for I'm neither. Tell him that if he can
+give me a fair trial it is all that you ask, and that he may turn me out
+at the end of a week if I don't do."
+
+Godfrey nodded assent.
+
+"I think you may as well write it _now_," said Percival. "I shall find
+it difficult to live for any length of time on this private fortune of
+mine without making inroads on my capital."
+
+Hammond stretched himself and crossed the room to his writing-table.
+"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" he said. "It will be a
+horrible existence. Clerks receive very poor pay: I don't believe you
+can live on it."
+
+"At any rate, I can die rather more slowly on it, and that will be
+convenient just now."
+
+"Why don't you wait, and see if we can't help you to something better?"
+
+Percival shook his head: "No. I promised Sissy that if I took help from
+any one, it should be from her. I must try to stand by myself first."
+
+Godfrey wrote, and Percival sat with bent head, poring over the little
+note which Sissy had sent to entreat that the past might be forgotten.
+"Let me do something for you," she wrote. "Come back to me, Percival, if
+you have forgiven me; and you said you had. I was so miserable that
+miserable night, and we were so hurried, I hardly know what I said or
+did. It was like a bad dream: let us forget it, and wake up and begin
+again. Can't we? Come and be good to me, as you were last autumn. You
+remember your song that day in the garden, 'You would die ere I should
+grieve;' and I have grieved so bitterly since last Wednesday night! You
+will be good to me--won't you?--and I promise I will tell you everything
+always. I promise, Percival, and you know I will really when I say I
+promise."
+
+He had answered her with tender and sorrowful firmness. "I knew your
+letter was coming," he said. "I was as certain of it, and of what you
+would say, as if I held it in my hand. But, Sissy, you wouldn't have
+written so to me if I had been a rich man, as you hoped I should be; and
+I can't take from your sweet pity what you couldn't give me when I asked
+it for love's sake. It is impossible, dear, but I thank you from the
+bottom of my heart, and I love you for it. I hardly know yet where I
+shall go and what I shall do; but if I should want any help I will ask
+it first of you, and I will be your friend and brother to my dying day."
+
+Thus he closed the page of his life on which he had written that brief
+story of love. Yet Sissy's letter was an inexpressible comfort to him.
+It was something to know that elsewhere a little heart was beating--so
+true and kind that it would have given up its own happiness--to help him
+in his trouble.
+
+A few days later Percival was going north in a slow train. On his right
+sat a stout man with his luggage tied up in a dirty handkerchief. On his
+left was an old woman in rusty black nursing an unpleasant grandchild,
+who made hideous demonstrations of friendship to young Thorne. Opposite
+was a soldier smoking vile tobacco, a clodhopping boy in corduroy, and a
+big girl whose tawdry finery was a miracle of jarring and vulgar colors.
+
+Never, I think, could a young hero have set forth to make his way
+through the world with less hope than did Percival Thorne. He was
+already disheartened and disgusted, and questioned within himself
+whether life were worth having for those who went third-class. The slow
+train and the lagging hours crawled onward through the dust and heat.
+"And this," he thought, "should have been my wedding-day!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+NO. 13 BELLEVUE STREET.
+
+
+June gave way to July, July to August, August to September. Lottie
+reigned at Brackenhill, and Mrs. Middleton, whose heart clung to the
+neighborhood where she had lived so long, had taken a house on the other
+side of Fordborough. Between it and her old home lay an impassable
+gulf--none the less real that it was not marked on the county map. It
+appeared there as a distance of five miles and a quarter, with a good
+road, but Mrs. Horace Thorne, as well as Mrs. Middleton, knew better.
+Lottie laughed, and Horace's resentment was so keen that he was almost
+unconscious of his pain.
+
+Percival's utter disappearance was a nine days' wonder in Fordborough,
+and when curiosity was dying out it flamed up again on the discovery
+that the marriage was not only put off, but was off altogether. This
+fact, considered in connection with the old squire's will, gave rise to
+the idea that there was something queer about Mr. Percival Thorne--that
+he had been found out at the last moment, and had lost both wife and
+legacy in consequence. "No doubt it was hushed up on condition he should
+take himself off. The best thing they could do, but how sad for an old
+county family! Still, there will be black sheep, and what a mercy it was
+that Miss Langton was saved from him!" So people talked, and generally
+added that they could not tell why--just a feeling, you know--but they
+never had liked that Percival Thorne.
+
+In September, Godfrey Hammond cut a tiny slip out of the _Times_ and
+sent it to the banished man: "On the 15th, the wife of Horace Thorne,
+Esq., Brackenhill, Fordborough, of a son."
+
+Percival ate his breakfast that morning with the scrap of paper by his
+plate, and looked at it with fierce, defiant eyes. Lottie was avenged
+indeed--she would never know how bitterly. He had sworn that he would
+never think of Brackenhill, yet without his knowledge it had been the
+background to his thoughts of everything. And now the cruel injustice of
+his fate had taken a new lease of life in this baby boy: it would
+outlive him, it would become eternal. Percival leapt to his feet with a
+short laugh: "Well, that's over and done with! Good luck to the poor
+little fellow! he's innocent enough. And I don't suppose he'll ever know
+what a scoundrel his father was." So saying, he glanced at his watch and
+marched off to his work.
+
+Those three months had left their trace on him. He loathed his life; he
+had no companions, no hope; he was absorbed in the effort to endure his
+suffering. His indolence made his daily labor hateful as the treadmill.
+He was fastidious, and his surroundings sickened him. His food disgusted
+him, and so did the close atmosphere of the office. But he had chosen
+his fate, and he had no heart to try to escape from it, since it gave
+him the means of keeping body and soul together. Day after day, as that
+hot September wore away, he looked out on a dreary range of roofs and
+chimney-pots. He learned to know and hate every broken tile. From his
+bedroom he looked into a narrow back yard, deep like a well, at the
+bottom of which children swarmed, uncleanly and unwholesome, and women
+gossiped and wrangled as they hung out dingy rags to dry. The fierce sun
+shone on it all, and on Percival as he leant at his window surveying it
+with disgust, yet something of fascination too. "I fancied the sun
+wouldn't seem so bright in holes like this," he mused. "I thought
+everything would be dull and dim. Instead of which, he glares into every
+cranny and corner, as if he were pointing at all the filth and squalid
+misery, and makes it ten times more abominable." Nor did the slanting
+rays light up anything pleasant and fresh in the bedroom itself. It was
+shabby and small, with coarsely-papered walls and a discolored ceiling.
+Percival remarked that his window had a very wide sill. He never found
+out the reason, unless it were intended that he should take the air by
+sitting on it and dangling his legs over the foulest of water-butts. But
+when night came the broad sill was the favorite battlefield for all the
+cats in the neighborhood. It might have been pointed out as readily as
+they point you out the place where the students fight at Heidelberg.
+
+From his sitting-room he looked on a melancholy street. The
+unsubstantial houses tried to seem--not respectable, no word so honest
+could be applied to them, but--genteel, and failed even in that
+miserable ambition. Percival used to watch the plastered fronts, flaking
+in the sun and rain, old while yet new, with no grace of bygone memory
+or present strength, till he fancied that they might be perishing of
+some foul leprosy like that described in Leviticus. And the wearisome
+monotony! They were all just alike, except that here and there one was a
+little dingier than its neighbors, with the railings more broken and the
+windows dirtier. One day, when his landlady insisted on talking to him
+and Percival was too courteous to be absolutely silent, he asked where
+the prospect was from which the street took its name. She said they used
+to be able to see Three-Corner Green from their attic-windows. In her
+mother's time there was a tree and a pond there, she believed, and she
+herself could remember it quite green, a great place for Cheap Jacks and
+people who preached and sold pills. But now it was all done away with
+and built over. It was Paradise Place, and Paradise Place wasn't much of
+a prospect, though there might be worse. But it was no detriment to Mr.
+Thorne's rooms, for it was only the attic that ever had the view.
+However, folks must call the place something, if only for the letters;
+and Bellevue looked well on them and sounded airy, and she was never the
+one for change. This sounded so like the beginning of a discourse on
+things in general that Percival thanked her and fled.
+
+It was about ten minutes' walk to Mr. Ferguson's office. There, week
+after week, he toiled with dull industry. He could not believe that his
+drudgery would last: something--death perhaps--must come to break the
+monotony of that slowly unwinding chain of days, which was like a
+grotesquely dreary dream. To have flung himself heart and soul into his
+work not only demanded an effort of which he felt himself incapable,
+but it seemed to him that such an effort could only serve to identify
+him with this hideous life. So, with head bowed over interminable pages,
+he labored with patient indifference. On his left sat a clerk ten or
+fifteen years older than himself, a white-faced man, who blinked like an
+owl in sunlight and had a wearisome cough. There was always a sickly
+smell of lozenges about him, and he was fretful if every window was not
+tightly closed. On Percival's right was a sallow youth of nineteen. He
+worked by fits and starts, sometimes driving his pen along as if the
+well-being of the universe depended on the swift completion of his task
+and the planets might cease to revolve if he were idle, while a few
+minutes later he would be drawing absently on his blotting-paper or
+feeling for his whiskers, as if they might have arrived suddenly without
+his being aware of it. Probably he was thinking over his next speech at
+the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society. They debated high and
+important matters at their weekly meetings. They inquired, "Was Oliver
+Cromwell justified in putting King Charles to death?" they read
+interesting papers about it, and voted the unlucky monarch into or out
+of his grave with an energy which would have allowed him little rest if
+it could have taken effect. They marshalled many arguments to decide the
+knotty and important question, "Does our Country owe most to the Warrior
+or the Statesman?" and they made up their minds and voted about that
+too. The sallow young man was rather a distinguished member of the
+society, and had much to say on such problems as these.
+
+The clerks did not like Thorne. They felt that he was not one of
+themselves, and said that he was stuck up and sulky. They resented his
+silence. If you do not like a man you always understand his silence as
+the speech you would most dislike--veiled. Above all, they resented his
+grave politeness. They left him alone, with an angry suspicion that it
+was exactly what he wanted them to do; as indeed it was, though he was
+painfully conscious of the atmosphere of distrust and ill-will in which
+he lived. But he could have found no pleasure in their companionship,
+and in fact was only interested in their coats. He was anxious to learn
+how shabby a man might become and pass unnoticed in the office; so he
+would glance, without turning his head, at the white-faced man's sleeve,
+and rejoice to see the same threadbare cuff travelling slowly across a
+wide expanse of parchment.
+
+When he wrote to Hammond he said that he was getting on very well. He
+could not say that his work was very amusing, but very likely he should
+get more used to it in time. He wished to be left alone and to give it a
+fair trial. How was Sissy?
+
+Hammond replied that Mrs. Middleton had aged a good deal, but that she
+and Sissy were both pretty well, and had got an idea--he could not think
+from whom--that Percival had gone in for the law and was going to do
+something very amazing indeed. "They are waiting to be surprised,"
+Godfrey wrote, "like children on their birthdays. St. Cecilia especially
+wouldn't for worlds open her eyes till the right moment comes and you
+appear in your glory as lord chancellor or attorney-general, or
+something of the kind. I'm afraid she's a little hazy about it all,
+though of course she knows that you will be a very great man and that
+you will wear a wig. Mrs. Middleton is perhaps a trifle more moderate in
+her expectations. I left them to build their castles in the air, since
+you had bound me to secrecy, but I wish you would tell them the truth.
+Or I would help you, as you know, if I knew how."
+
+Percival answered that Godfrey must not betray him: "I couldn't endure
+that Horace and his wife should know of my difficulties; and as to
+living on Aunt Harriet--never! And how could I go back to Fordborough,
+now that Sissy and I have parted? She would sacrifice herself for
+me--poor child!--out of sheer pity. No: here I can live, after a
+fashion, and defy the world. And here I will live, and hope to know some
+day that Sissy has found her happiness. Till then let her think that I
+am prospering."
+
+Godfrey shrugged his shoulders over Percival's note. It was irrational,
+no doubt, but Thorne had a right to please himself, and might as well
+take care of his pride, since he had not much else to take care of. So
+he attempted no persuasion, but simply sent any Fordborough news and
+forwarded occasional letters from Mrs. Middleton and Sissy. As the
+autumn wore on, Percival began to feel strange as he opened the
+envelopes and saw the handwriting which belonged to his old life. He had
+an absurd idea that the letters should not have come to _him_--that his
+former self, the self Sissy had known, was gone. He read her letters by
+the light of what Hammond had told him, and saw the delicate wording by
+which she tried to show her sympathy, yet almost repelled his
+confidence. She was so anxious not to thrust herself into his
+secrets--it was so evident that she would not be troublesome, but would
+wait with shut eyes, as Hammond had said, for a birthday surprise and
+triumph! O poor little Sissy! O faith which he felt within himself no
+strength to vindicate! He answered her in carefully weighed sentences,
+and smiled as he wrote them down because they amused him--a smile sadder
+than tears. Percival Thorne was dead, and he was some one else, trying
+to think what Percival would have said, and to hide his death from
+Sissy, lest her heart should break for pity.
+
+It was very foolish? Yes. But if you had parted yourself from every one
+you knew; if for five months you had never heard a friendly word; if you
+had a secret to hide and a part to play; if you lived alone, surrounded
+by faces of people with whom you had no faintest touch of
+sympathy--faces which were to you like those of swarming Chinese or men
+and women in a nightmare,--perhaps you might have some thoughts and
+fancies less calm and less rational than of old. And the more changed
+Percival felt himself, the more he shrank from the friends he had left.
+
+November came. One day he looked at the date on the office almanac and
+remembered that it was exactly a year since he went down to Brackenhill
+and heard of old Bridgman's death. He could not repress a short sudden
+laugh. It was half under his breath, but his neighbor, who was at that
+moment gazing fiercely into space and turning a sentence, heard it, and
+felt that it was in mockery of him. Percival was thinking how seriously
+he had considered that important question, "Would he stand as the
+Liberal candidate for Fordborough?" Percival Thorne, Esq., M.P.! He
+might well laugh as he sat at his desk filling in a bundle of notices.
+But from that moment the sallow youth on his right hated him with a
+deadly hatred.
+
+December came--a dull, gray, bitter December--not clear and sparkling,
+as December sometimes is, nor yet misty and warm, as if it would have
+you take it for a lingering autumn, but bitter without beauty, harsh and
+pitiless. Keen gusts of wind whirled dust and straws and rubbish in
+dreary little dances along Bellevue street, the faces of the passers-by
+were nipped and miserable with the cold, and the sullen sky hung low
+above the pallid row of houses opposite. Percival looked out on this and
+thought of Brackenhill, which he left in leafy June. He was very
+miserable: he had always been quickly sensitive to the beauty or
+dreariness around him, and the gray dulness of the scene entered into
+his very soul. Warmth, leisure, sunlight and blue sky! There was plenty
+of sunlight somewhere in the world. O God! what had he done that it
+should be denied him?
+
+There was a weary craving upon him that might have led to terrible
+results, but his pride and fastidiousness saved him. His delicately
+cultivated palate loathed the coarse fire of spirits, and he had a
+healthy horror of drugs. Once or twice he had thought of opium when he
+could not escape, even in dreams, from the grayness of his life. "This
+is unendurable," he would say; and he played in fancy with the key which
+unlocks the gates of that strange region lying on the borders of
+paradise and hell. But his better sense questioned, "Will it be any more
+endurable when I have ruined my nerves and the coats of my stomach?" It
+did not seem probable that it would be. If death had been the risk he
+might have faced it, but he recoiled from the thought of a premature and
+degraded old age, still chained to the hateful desk.
+
+There are times when a man may be cheaply made into a hero. What would
+not Percival have given for the chance of doing some deed of reckless
+bravery?
+
+[TO BE CONTINUED.]
+
+
+
+
+A LEVANTINE PICNIC.
+
+
+We had been a long time in Suda Bay--one of the numerous indentations on
+the north coast of Crete--in company with Turkish, Egyptian, Russian and
+Austrian men of war. Fighting was going on at intervals on the
+mountains--of which Mount Ida and some of the other peaks were covered
+with snow--and we could sometimes see from our anchorage the spirts of
+white smoke where the Cretans (not "slow-bellies" now) were ambushing
+the Turkish columns as they struggled up the mountain-defiles. Egyptian
+transports came in and landed their long-legged, white-uniformed troops,
+who perhaps bivouacked that night on the shores of the bay, and the next
+day were absorbed in the great reticulations of the mountain-island,
+which must have seemed a strange country indeed to the Fellah recruits,
+to whom the Mokattam Hills were mountains.
+
+_We_ could do nothing in Crete. We were closely bound down by orders,
+and sympathies had no play. Hundreds of women and children, the
+families of the insurgents, were interned at Retimo in an old fort and
+in other similar strongholds. Some were hovering about the south coast,
+not far from St. Paul's Fair Havens, in hopes of being taken off from
+there. The condition of these people was very pitiable. The Russian
+frigate General Admiral had taken one load of them to Greece, but the
+pacha in command, Mustapha Kiritli, positively refused to allow us or
+the Russians to take any more. The blockade-runners (one of which, at
+least, had distinguished herself in our own then recent war) took off a
+few, but could not, of course, stay on the coast long enough to
+accomplish much without having a Turkish cruiser down upon them. As a
+war-measure the refusal of the pacha was right, for the possession of
+the women and children gave the Turks a certain hold upon the Cretans
+who were bushwhacking in the mountains.
+
+The pacha did give us permission to go down to Retimo to see for
+ourselves the condition of the families detained there. They were not so
+badly off, according to Levantine notions. They had lentils, oil, flour
+and firewood, a shelter for their heads, and their rugs and rags to
+sleep under. The Turkish officers asked, What more could people want?
+What they wanted was the Turks out of the island for ever, but it was of
+no use to say that. Such a remark on our part might have been thought
+personal.
+
+Sometimes during our stay we went over to the town of Canea, where the
+only things of interest were--first, a red-hot consul, who sympathized
+so violently with the Cretans that he had lost all his influence with
+the Turks, to whom, of course, he was accredited; and, secondly, the
+fine old Venetian slips and galley-houses, in such preservation as
+almost to make one fancy that the days of Francesco Prioli, the admiral,
+had not yet departed.
+
+At Suda Bay there was a large Turkish camp, which was interesting for an
+hour or two. About its outskirts it had a curious collection of
+half-savage camp-followers and hangers-on, the close inspection of whom
+on their own ground, with their queer ways of butchering and cooking and
+what not, was interesting, but not altogether unattended with a spice of
+danger to a solitary _Giaour_. We had visited and entertained the
+Russians and the Austrians, and they had returned our civilities and
+tried to make things cheerful; but we were very weary of Suda Bay long
+before orders came permitting us to go over to Smyrna; which place, when
+we got there, seemed a very Naples by comparison with Canea.
+
+The Bay of Smyrna is far famed as a fine one. The _imbat_, or
+sea-breeze, usually blows every day and all day long, so that, however
+close one may lie to the town, the odors from its filthy, narrow streets
+are all blown the other way--sufficiently rich, one would think, to
+fertilize any soil over which they may be wafted. I suppose there is no
+better instance of the whited sepulchre than Smyrna. The view of the
+city and its environs from an anchorage in the bay, with the sun shining
+upon its blue waters dancing and crisping under the brisk imbat; the
+Greek spires and the minarets of the mosques relieved by the cypresses
+of the graveyards; the amphitheatrical situation of the whole place,
+crowned by Mount Pagus with its picturesque ruined castle, and the fine
+mountain-scenery in the background,--must impress every visitor. And yet
+nowhere has the plague so often reaped its harvest, owing to neglect of
+everything which goes to make life clean and decent.
+
+We had been many days in Smyrna, and had eaten many bunches of grapes,
+each as fine as any the spies brought from Eshkol. We had seen the
+famous _rahat-li-coom_ boiling in the caldrons, and then flavored and
+beaten and drawn, and then had eaten it. We had smoked many okes of
+Latakia. We had spent pleasant evenings among the foreign residents at
+Bournabat, where the dress-coat and claret-jug and piano represent
+Western civilization to the merchants and consuls tired after a long day
+in the hot, reeking, noisy town. We had learned to find our way through
+the bazaar without a guide, and had bought shawls and rugs in the
+Persian khan, driving close bargains, as we thought, after hours of
+patient sitting and much smoking and coffee-drinking, and being cheated
+frightfully, as we found out afterward on comparing notes with resident
+ladies. We had ridden up, on donkeys, to the huge ruined castle
+dominating the city, said, popularly, to have been built by the English
+Richard, and certainly dating from the thirteenth century, and we had
+come down from there in a high state of heat, dust and disgust. We had
+been to see figs packed for the market in a place and after a manner
+which made us think of the motto of the Garter. We had gone to see the
+Whirling Dervishes, and had witnessed the drill of the Turkish nizam at
+the grand new barracks. We had visited the English military cemetery
+formed in Crimean days, and had experienced a strange home-feeling as we
+read the familiar names on the headstones. We had had sailing-parties on
+the bay for consuls and consulesses, landing at Sanjak Kalessi to take
+luncheon and to see the huge old-fashioned guns in the fort, with their
+stone balls (of granite or marble, two feet in diameter), once thought
+so formidable. We had been the round of the Greek caf�s which flourish
+in such numbers in Smyrna, where polyglot concerts and the worst
+features of the _caf� chantant_ seem never to tire their patrons. We had
+seen a Persian caravan start--a sight well worth rising early for, if
+only to see their outlandish drivers lash the loads upon the camels,
+which groan and bellow and scold during the operation, retracting their
+hare-lips, showing their long yellow teeth, and projecting from their
+mouths the very hideous and peculiar bag of flesh and blue color; in
+which condition they attain a point of repulsiveness possessed by no
+other animal I know of.
+
+An official reception and visit by the pacha had of course been
+accomplished, both parties seeming to be about equally bored by the
+ceremony, and Smyrna seemed, for us, to be pretty well "played out." We
+were reduced to dropping small coin over the taffrail for expectant men
+and boys to dive for through the clear blue water, and to betting upon
+the time of arrival of the Austrian Lloyds or the Russian mail-steamer.
+
+Clearly, this was not a wholesome state to be in; and knowing this, a
+Good Samaritan, our acting consul, Mr. G----, proposed as a distraction
+trips to neighboring places of interest, especially to Ephesus and
+Magnesia. They were both to be reached by rail, and so near as to
+require but a single day's absence, which was of importance to us, as we
+were expecting orders to sail at any moment.
+
+The first-mentioned place naturally attracted us most, from its
+association with our youthful studies, both biblical and secular; and so
+it was decided that we should make a day of it at Ephesus, and have a
+picnic. The party consisted of our consul and his two nieces, very
+excellent specimens of Levantine-born people of English stock; an
+Armenian gentleman, Mr. A----, and his wife; and three of our officers.
+Due preparation was made by kind Mr. G---- in the way of sending hampers
+of provision and wine, and in ordering horses to meet us at A�asulouk,
+the nearest station to Ephesus, and about fifty miles by rail from
+Smyrna.
+
+We were obliged to start very early in the morning, for there was only
+one daily passenger-train each way on the Smyrna and Aidin Railroad. The
+road was far from being remunerative to the bond- and stock-holders at
+that time, and I fancy it has not been so since. There seemed, indeed,
+scant reason for any passenger-train at all, for, besides our own party,
+there were only two or three Zaptiehs, truculent-looking fellows, a
+couple of English merchants and some rayahs.
+
+The contrast between the bustling noise and modern associations of the
+railway-train and the medi�val-looking environs of Smyrna, through which
+it threaded its way, was sufficiently striking to occupy one's thoughts
+for some time after starting, especially as alongside the railway ran
+for some distance the caravan-route, already filled by strings of camels
+and their drivers--most picturesque objects in such a landscape. Most
+of the native traders prefer that time-honored mode of transportation to
+the iron horse, and a large proportion of the merchandise received at
+this most important commercial centre came on the backs of camels, mules
+and asses. Aidin, the southern terminus of the road on which we were
+travelling, is a great d�p�t of the figs which we have all eaten from
+infancy put up in drums; and the freight of these is one of the
+principal sources of revenue to the railway. That more products of the
+soil are not sent in this way is rather the fault of the wretched
+government than of the rayahs or agricultural laborers. They are ground
+to the very earth by iniquitous taxation, and only manage to live from
+hand to mouth in what should be a land of plenty.
+
+After the railroad turns southward it follows a broad valley between two
+low mountain-ridges, the western one being rather precipitous. Here and
+there were ledges which were occupied by the flocks of Bedouins and of
+Yourouks (a true nomad race, speaking a Turkish dialect), as well as by
+their low, broad black tents, scarcely distinguishable at that
+elevation. These people had encroached upon land formerly cultivated and
+very fertile--in some places merely in the fallow-time, but in others in
+consequence of the proper tillers of the soil being driven away,
+hopeless from endless exactions on the part of the greedy pachas and
+kaimacans set over them. There was one comfort. They got little from the
+Bedawee or the Yourouks, who flitted when tax-time came. These hills had
+quite recently been the scene of the exploits of Kitterji Janni, a
+celebrated robber-chief not long gone to his account. From all we heard
+of him he was not altogether a bad fellow, but robbed the rich and gave
+to the poor in a quite Rinaldo-Rinaldini sort of style.
+
+We were already on friendly terms with all our entertainers except the
+Armenian lady, the wife of Mr. A----, whom we now met for the first
+time. She was still a young woman, tall, with a very comely face and
+laughing black eyes, but hugely fat, as Armenians are apt to become
+very early. She was dressed in bright colors and in the latest Parisian
+style, including the bonnet and parasol. A jolly, wholesome, honest look
+and manner prepossessed us in her favor, but, unfortunately, she did not
+speak a word of either English or French. Her husband, tall and fat too,
+was a good fellow, and, unlike his wife (who possessed only Turkish,
+Greek and Armenian), spoke in addition French, Italian and English with
+great ease and fluency. Indeed, the Armenians are the best of the
+different nationalities of Asia Minor and Syria: diligent in business,
+moderately honest, good linguists and accountants, they have more
+dignified manners and stability than the Fanariot Greeks, and more
+brains than the Turks. They retain their physical type as distinctly as
+do the Parsees in India, and are equally ready to turn an honest penny,
+_en gros_ and _en d�tail_.
+
+We rattled along the excellent railway in a style calculated to make the
+"limited express" look to its laurels, and in less than two hours drew
+up at the station of A�asulouk. Here the western chain of hills which we
+had skirted ceases, and the great marshy plain of Ephesus opens out, the
+river Cayster meandering through it. The insignificant station-house and
+platform, with a small coffee-house and some dwellings, reminded me of a
+prairie station in our Western country. But the eye was at once
+attracted by something we should not find in the Western World--to wit,
+some ruins, large, roofless, but with solid walls, two domes, some
+pinnacles and a graceful minaret. These are the ruins of the mosque of
+Sultan Selim, called by the Greeks the church of St. John, though it was
+certainly not the church under which the saint was buried. There are the
+remains of a Christian church behind those of the mosque, and below a
+ruined Turkish castle with a Roman gateway which crowns the hill still
+farther north. The apse of this ruined church, also called St. John by
+the native Greeks, is still visited and venerated by them.
+
+A ruined aqueduct stalked across the plain from east to west, bearing
+high in air the rude nests of numerous storks, which were to be seen
+sitting or standing on their nests or flying deliberately to and fro
+with that air of being perfectly at home which belongs to storks in
+whatever part of the world they may chance to make their sojourn. This
+aqueduct received its water from a tunnel in the eastern range, and was
+probably the principal source of supply for the city in Roman times. The
+ruins of another (tunnelled) aqueduct have been discovered of late years
+coming from the mountains to the south of the city; and this is probably
+much older than the first named, as the Greeks preferred that mode of
+conducting water wherever practicable, their subterranean channels, a
+sort of syphon arrangement, being in use long before any of the Roman
+aqueducts were built. The fact is, that the Greeks early found out that
+water would find its own level, while the Romans, if they knew the fact,
+did not always act upon it.
+
+Far off from the railway-station, to the west and south-west, in the
+midst of the dreary marshy plain, rose Mount Coressus, about which as a
+centre formerly clustered the imperial city of Diana. Hardly a moving
+thing was in sight but the flying storks and the waving green patches of
+rushes and of grain bowed by the strong imbat, which wafted
+cloud-shadows over the rather melancholy landscape. The peasants who
+till the arable part of the plain only come down there to work at the
+planting and the harvest, and live at Kirkenjee, a town on the
+mountain-side. Malaria does not permit them to live nearer to their
+work. Indeed, the traces of the swamp-poison were plainly seen in the
+faces of the railway employ�s and other residents in the vicinity of the
+station. While we were taking this glance about us our hampers were
+deposited on the platform and the train rattled off again with great
+briskness, as if time were of any importance, and as if the whole
+arrangement were not an anachronism in this part of the world!
+
+We were to return to have our picnic at the ruins on our right, after
+which we should be in readiness for the evening train; but just now the
+great thing was to get to horse and to finish the necessary
+sight-seeing before the heat of the day if possible. And so the horses
+were brought up. Such horses! Plucky enough, but small and lean and
+scraggy, of all colors and all degrees of ugliness. Three English
+side-saddles had been brought out in the train for the ladies, while the
+men of the party took the horse-gear provided by the owner of the
+animals, instruments of torture known as Turkish saddles. The two young
+ladies, light weights, were soon mounted. Then the horse intended for
+the Armenian lady was brought up alongside the platform, and her husband
+placed her upon the side-saddle after a careful tightening of girths.
+When the horse, which seemed lighter than his burden, moved away, the
+saddle at once began to turn in a very deliberate fashion, depositing
+the fair rider gently upon the ground. There they were, the rider seated
+quietly upon the turf, and the side-saddle pendulous between the horse's
+legs, the animal apparently much puzzled to know what to make of the
+strange machine, but evidently not intending any such nonsense as
+running away. The men rushed at the animal, righted the saddle, and
+hauled away at the girths until the horse became quite wasp-like in
+form. He was then led back to the platform, and the lady's ponderous
+form was once more placed on the side-saddle, only to repeat the turning
+operation, gravity asserting itself with all the ease and certainty
+belonging to natural laws. Our laughter was by this time uncontrollable,
+the good-natured Armenian joining in it heartily, and a consultation was
+held to determine what was to be done. She was out for a day's pleasure,
+and evidently did not mean to be left behind. Finally, it was determined
+that she should take one of the other saddles; and she mounted one
+accordingly, the horse then moving off slowly, but well enough, as the
+weight was evenly balanced. I have seldom seen a jollier sight than that
+portly dame, in her resplendent skirts and spick-and-span French bonnet
+and parasol, mounted _en cavalier_.
+
+Having discreetly and safely accomplished this difficult piece of
+business, we all set off by a narrow footpath, muddy in many places,
+toward the site of the ancient city. We passed patches of cultivated
+ground here and there, a good deal of which was tobacco, but for the
+most part our way was through marsh-grass and low bushes. Nearly a mile
+north-east of the ruins of the city we passed what the best authorities
+positively say are the ruins of the temple. The arch�ologists have been
+quarrelling over this point for generations, and some think that the
+ruins are those of a great Christian fane. The fact is, that almost all
+the ruins have been quarries of building- and lime-stone for centuries,
+and those edifices which stood farthest to the east and north-east, as
+the temple did, suffered most because most accessible.
+
+I do not propose to inflict upon the reader a list of the ruins which we
+saw, some well authenticated, and some not. It is not every mind,
+however well regulated, that will bear the personal inspection of ruins,
+much less a catalogue of them.
+
+We passed on, still westward, skirting the rocky Mount Coressus, on the
+western side of which was the great theatre, then in process of
+excavation by Mr. Wood, who has since published an elaborate account of
+his discoveries. Far toward the west stretched the ruins where had been
+the markets, the stadium and the ports, with crumbling walls and towers
+of all stages of antiquity, Greek, Roman and Byzantine. One of the
+towers or forts, on an elevation to the westward, and of somewhat
+cyclopean construction, passes popularly for "St. Paul's Prison."
+
+Far to the west glittered the sea in the Bay of Scala Nova, and beyond
+rose the mountains of Samos, still famed for fruity wine. It is
+generally supposed that the sea once came up to the site of Ephesus, but
+there is no good reason for the belief. The Cayster has undoubtedly in
+the course of ages brought down and deposited much soil, and has formed
+a delta, but we know that in the palmy days of the city a long canal,
+with solid quays of cut stone, led the ships up to the two ports. The
+remains of these canals have been traced for a long way, showing that
+the distance to the sea was always considerable, while the ports are
+still defined by the extra-luxuriant growth of bulrushes and cat-tails.
+
+We had stopped at the theatre to examine the curious sculptures
+collected there by the excavators, and to enjoy the view. To do this we
+all dismounted, with the exception of the Armenian lady, who mildly but
+firmly declined to descend, no doubt feeling that there would be a
+difficulty in remounting where there was no railway-platform. In her own
+mind she no doubt said with MacMahon, "J'y suis! j'y reste!" Mounting
+again, we rode round to the south of Coressus, passing along a regular
+street, with the remains of paving and curbing, parallel with the
+southern wall of the ancient city, which ran along the declivity of
+Mount Pion. Here was pointed out the tomb of St. Luke. Extensive
+excavations were being made near here under English auspices, and tombs
+were daily being discovered, both pagan and early Christian. On the very
+day of our visit a substantial tomb had been exposed, cut clearly and
+deeply into the stone of which was the inscription in Greek, "Alexander
+the Rich."
+
+The sun by this time was more than warm, and we were three or four miles
+from our luncheon. So the horses' heads were turned toward A�asulouk; on
+which sign of being homeward bound they developed a speed little to be
+expected from their looks and previous conduct. Passing a breach in the
+wall of the ancient city, more tombs and the remains of an extensive
+colonnade, we came out upon the marshy plain which we had crossed once
+before, having completely circled Coressus. On the left, as we rode
+along, the ruins of the church dedicated to the Seven Sleepers were
+pointed out to us. The church or chapel was cut out of the solid rock as
+to the walls, with a groined roof of stone. We have all heard of the
+"Seven Sleepers" from our boyhood, perhaps the toughest yarn incident to
+that period. The Turks and Persians have their legends about them as
+well as the Christians. The Mohammedans preserve one set of names and
+the Christians another, so an inquirer may take his choice. The Moslems
+certainly make the most of the legend, for they place the names of the
+Sleepers upon buildings to prevent their being burned, and upon swords
+to prevent them from breaking; and they preserve the name of the dog
+which was shut up with them. The legend refers to the persecution of the
+Christians in the reign of Diocletian--some say the Decian persecution.
+The story goes that seven noble youths of Ephesus (being Christians and
+under persecution) fled to this cave for refuge--were pursued,
+discovered and walled in. In this dreadful condition they were
+miraculously put into a sleep which lasted, some say two, some three,
+hundred years.
+
+The Koran relates the tale in a circumstantial way, regarding Moslems
+persecuted by Christians of course. It declares that the sun, out of
+respect for these young martyrs, altered his course, so that twice in
+the day he might shine upon the cavern. The name of the dog, "Kit Mehr,"
+has always appeared in the traditions of the Mussulmans, but I believe
+no name has been preserved for him in the Christian story. This dog,
+having consumed three hundred years in standing erect, growling and
+guarding his masters' slumbers, was for his faithfulness considered
+worthy of translation to heaven. He was admitted to that beatitude in
+company with Abraham's ram, Balaam's ass, the foal upon which Jesus rode
+into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, and Mohammed's mare upon which he
+ascended to heaven.
+
+What says Alcoran?--"When the youths betook them to the cave they said,
+'O our Lord! grant us mercy from before thee, and order for us our
+affairs aright!' ... And thou wouldst have deemed them awake, though
+they were sleeping; and we turned them to the right and to the left; and
+in the entrance lay their dog with paws outstretched. Hadst thou come
+suddenly upon them thou wouldst surely have turned thy back on them in
+flight, and have been filled with fear of them.... Some say, 'There
+were three, their dog the fourth;' others say, 'Five, their dog the
+sixth,' guessing at the secret; others say, 'Seven, and their dog the
+eighth.' Say, 'My Lord best knoweth the number: none save a few shall
+know them.' Therefore be clear in thy discussions about them, and ask
+not any Christian concerning them. Haply, my Lord will guide me that I
+may come near to the truth of this story with correctness.... And they
+tarried in this cave three hundred years, and nine years over."
+
+Half an hour brought us back to A�asulouk and the mosque of Sultan
+Selim. Here everything seemed still more quiet than when we left. Even
+the storks were sitting or standing in a meditative posture, not one
+flying about. The railway porters and some rayahs were lying on the
+platform in the enjoyment of their midday slumbers, their heads and
+faces carefully wrapped up in their capotes, while their bare, bronzed
+shanks and huge feet, in shapeless red shoes, projected in what seemed
+absurd disproportion to the rest of their bodies. I must make an
+exception. There was one wide-awake individual awaiting us, the owner of
+the horses. He was no sooner paid for the hire of his animals than,
+tying them fast, he went into the miserable little caf�; and we found
+the animals still made fast, still saddled, unwatered and unfed, when we
+took the evening train, the owner being descried in the house of
+entertainment at work at a nargileh, and evidently the worse for raki.
+
+It is rather a difficult thing to acknowledge, in the face of the great
+ruins then about us, with all their associations, that the thought of
+our dinner was by this time uppermost in the minds of nearly all our
+company. I have generally found, however, in much journeying about this
+wicked world, that the amount of condescension and interest with which
+one looks upon ancient remains depends very much upon the company in
+which one finds one's self, the state of the weather and the state of
+one's stomach.
+
+Our worthy entertainer was a man of the world, and understood this
+little trait of humanity; so he led us straight to the roofless mosque,
+where we were shaded from the afternoon sun, but at the same time had
+his cheerful reflection from the upper part of the marble walls, from
+which trailed and waved lovely vines and parasites. There we found,
+spread upon a spotless cloth which rested on a clean-swept though
+cracked pavement parqueted in different marbles, a most delightful and
+plentiful luncheon. Shawls and rugs were placed, and we fell to at once,
+the Armenian lady playing her part as manfully as she had done in the
+saddle, and causing grilled fowls, kibabs and claret-cup to disappear in
+a way which reflected upon the capacity of some of the males of the
+party.
+
+We had nearly finished our repast when a gypsy-woman peeped in at one of
+the doorways, but with instinctive good manners retired again until we
+had done with dessert and cigarettes were lighted. Then she came into
+the huge unroofed hall in which we were, and brought a pretty girl of
+about twelve and a boy of ten, who danced for our amusement a wild sort
+of prance with a castanet accompaniment. The mother then begged leave to
+divine our fortunes from the coffee-grounds in the cups, with the
+contents of which we had just wound up our feast. There is this
+difference between Levantine coffee and that made in our Western World:
+_grounds_ are essential to the one, and are eagerly shaken up and
+swallowed, while in our parts the grounds are the opprobrium of the
+cook. There were, however, grounds enough left for the gypsy. But she
+made a very mild use of them mostly, predicting "good health and a good
+fig-season" to an American officer who did not grow figs and who had the
+constitution of a horse. Then she took a handful of pebbles, shells and
+the small cubes of stone extracted from ancient mosaic floors, and threw
+them broadcast upon a very dirty cotton handkerchief, predicting from
+their relative positions the fortunes of the two young ladies. As
+interpreted by one of the servants the prediction was decidedly hazy. It
+may have lost in being translated, but it amounted to this: "Him husband
+hab--werry good: plenty piastre got." A very small gratuity sent our
+gypsy friend off perfectly satisfied after salaams and kissing the hands
+of all the men of the party. Nobody ever kisses women's hands in the
+East--at least in public.
+
+The conscientious member of the party, who "understood we had come
+mainly to inspect the ruins, and not for a picnic," and who had all day
+been very uncomfortable at the slight put upon antiquity by our light
+conduct in the face of so many centuries, now insisted upon at least a
+glance at the fine ruins in which we then were. They were well worthy of
+a close inspection, but I don't propose to inflict a description upon
+the reader. I may, however, mention a particularly picturesque minaret
+of very solid construction. Up the winding steps of this we all filed
+except the fat lady, who sat on the pavement below cross-legged, smoking
+a cigarette and smiling up at us benignly through the blue wreaths
+circling round her head from under the Paris hat.
+
+After enjoying the view of the plain and the encircling hills with the
+satisfaction of persons who had "done" the thing and had not to do it
+again, we began to inspect the minaret itself and the dressed stone
+parapet against which we leaned; and there we found the name of the
+everlasting English (or American) snob who seems to pervade the universe
+for the sake of cutting or writing his name and the date of his visit
+upon every coign of vantage to which he can get access. Our Armenian
+friend, Mr. A----, pointed out that there were few Italian names in this
+record of fools, and scarcely any French or German; but Herostratus
+appears weak in comparison with our English and American travellers in
+the desire for cheap fame, for he had only to make a fire, a thing done
+in a very few moments, while the travelling snob must have worked
+industriously for an hour or two, and made his hands very sore, and
+probably spoiled a knife, in satisfying his aspirations.
+
+The portals of this mosque are very fine. No doubt the greater part of
+the material for the building came from the ruins of Ephesus, but the
+portals and other principal points are of original design, and most
+undoubtedly erected by true architects and sculptors. They are
+Saracenic, not quite up to the examples we find in Spain and in Sicily,
+and in a modified and debased form in Morocco and elsewhere on the coast
+of Barbary. The inscriptions from the Koran are most elaborately and
+beautifully cut, and still in excellent preservation. The Moslem
+peasantry would not touch them, and the Christian rayahs are afraid to
+do so. There are, of course, no figures of men, or even of animals, but
+the charmingly correct arches and doorways, and the delicate tracery
+above them intermingled with Arabic characters, give a lightness to the
+portals which is hardly to be found anywhere east of the Alhambra or the
+Sevillian Alcazar.
+
+But I must leave the ruins, for by this time the sun was sinking, giving
+the plain on which so many important events had occurred a more weird
+and deserted look than ever. The _cavass_ in charge of the servants was
+beginning to be fussy, in fear that while we were dawdling about the one
+train might come and go, and the _sitts_ and _effendis_ be left to the
+limited accommodations of A�asulouk for the night. So we filed down to
+the station, the servants preceding us with the hampers upon their
+heads, and the Armenian lady stepping out after them fresh and
+fair--indeed, much fresher than most of us, who were rather tired after
+the unusual exertions of the day.
+
+As we retraced our morning's track we saw the same black tents of the
+Yourouks and Bedawee, the smoke from the fires of which mingled with the
+evening exhalations from the valley. Hundreds of sheep, horses and
+camels were now gathering close about the tents which had seemed so
+entirely deserted as we passed in the morning. There was no other moving
+thing to be seen as we rode north and the evening closed in--no lights
+in peasants' houses or fires on their hearths, for the Levantines are
+"early to bed and early to rise;" in addition to which custom they have,
+under the present paternal rule, acquired the habit of remaining as much
+out of sight as possible.
+
+When we came into the station at Smyrna the night had fallen. A few
+flickering lamps and lanterns made the darkness visible, and except the
+porters and necessary officials there was not a soul there, Turk or
+Frank, to take the slightest interest in our movements. The place was
+perfectly deserted and dismal. At last we saw lights approaching, and
+another cavass (belonging to our excellent consul) appeared with lots of
+lanterns and men "with staves and swords," as becometh a Levantine
+consul, and, escorted by these, we walked a long way over the rough,
+slippery paving-stones before we reached the Armenian and Greek
+quarters. Here people were seen sitting in family groups at their doors
+and windows, gossiping with their neighbors and enjoying such evening
+air as is afforded by the streets of Smyrna. But they showed, at any
+rate, some human interest and enjoyment of life, and we must remember
+that they had been accustomed to the smells from childhood. Perhaps the
+weaker ones had all died off, for those we saw were very stout and
+hearty. In all respects their streets presented a pleasant contrast to
+the dark, filthy, windowless, cheerless lanes in the Turkish town, with
+the skulking, snarling, mangy dogs disputing one's right of way, and an
+occasional encounter with a scowling Moslem, lantern in hand and
+homeward bound, who drew up to the wall, and showed by the gleam of our
+lanterns upon his yellow face that he inwardly cursed us all for
+Giaours, and wondered that Allah in His providence permitted us to
+exist. In fact, the Anatolian Turk is still a good Mohammedan of the
+time of Solyman, and not one of the degenerate race of Stamboul.
+
+E.S.
+
+
+
+
+A BIRD STORY.
+
+
+Visible from my study-window, and less than a stone's throw away, is a
+cottage, all tree-embowered and vine-covered, which its owners call "The
+Nest." All over the house, wherever a bird-box can be placed, there you
+are sure to find one. These little homes nestle under the eaves among
+the supporting brackets; they hide under the nooks of the gables; they
+are perched above the windows; they are indeed to be found wherever you
+would be likely to look for them, and in a good many places where you
+would never think of looking. Besides these bird-boxes on the house,
+there are bird-boxes in the trees, bird-boxes airily placed on high
+poles--bird-boxes in all forms, from the plain four-sided salt-box to
+the elaborate Swiss chalet and the pretentious be-spired and be-columned
+meeting-house. Then there are bird-cages--pretty brass cages, with
+tarlatan petticoats to keep the seeds from flying out, and tied with
+such dainty bows of ribbon that one has no need to be told there is a
+woman in the house; there are capacious cages in which brown
+mocking-birds sit all day long echoing back the other birds' songs they
+hear; there are dainty glass cages from Venice, in which Java sparrows
+carry on their ceaseless love-making, billing and cooing for hours and
+hours, as if all life to them was an interminable honeymoon. There is
+also a great white parrot, who, perched in a brass ring, mutters and
+mutters to himself for hours, and hums snatches of tunes, and calls
+imaginary dogs and visionary cats; and when he sees a certain manly form
+coming up the garden-walk is wont to cry out in a miserable mockery of
+tenderness, "Oh, my darling! I'm _so_ glad to see you!" and then smack
+his bill as near like a kiss as he can, and chuckle and laugh and turn
+somersaults, and otherwise disport himself as parrots do when they are
+pleased.
+
+And while all this is going on there comes running out of the house a
+pretty little figure in a fresh muslin dress and with outstretched arms;
+and, strangely enough, she says just what Polly has said, and there is a
+kiss that is no imitation, and a responsive kiss that fairly puts Polly
+to shame; but the bird chuckles and laughs nevertheless.
+
+When all this takes place--and it is no more of an event than the daily
+home-coming of our good neighbor and dear friend Arthur Sterling, Esq.,
+barrister-at-law,--when this home-coming takes place, all the birds at
+The Nest break forth into a merrier song--get so enthusiastic in their
+pipings that you'd think, to hear them, that they would split their
+throats; and still gladder and sweeter and merrier than their song is
+the voice of our dear neighbor's wife, Mistress May Sterling, who pours
+forth, in a ceaseless chattering song, a whole day's accumulation of
+love--yes indeed, a whole lifetime's accumulation; and while the
+rippling flow goes on their two fond hearts sing louder with joy than
+any birds would ever dare to think of singing.
+
+How they love the birds! And why not? Since but for a little bird they
+would not have been together in this sweet little nest, outbilling and
+outcooing the Java sparrows, dwelling in the land of Love's young dream,
+in the sunshine of each other's affection, and ready to declare upon
+oath that there is no night in their lives that isn't radiant with the
+sheen of the honeymoon.
+
+And now I'll tell you the story of a little bird as Mistress May
+Sterling told it to me one evening while her Arthur and I smoked our
+cigars in the moonlight on The Nest's piazza. No: on the whole, Mistress
+Sterling shall tell the story herself: she tells it much better than I
+can.
+
+"Why, yes," she says, "I'll tell it: why not? I love to tell it, for,
+taken altogether, it is the best story I ever heard of.--Kiss me,
+dear."
+
+Arthur having done as he was bidden, Mrs. Sterling begins at once, and
+all you and I have to do is to listen:
+
+"When I was young and giddy--ever and ever so long ago, of course:
+indeed I was quite a girl then, only eighteen--I was, as you may
+imagine, quite a pet with my father--don't laugh, Arthur: you know I
+was--and quite a belle too, I can assure you, with lots of young men
+flinging themselves at my feet and swearing all kinds of oaths about
+fidelity and everlasting affection, and all the other things that young
+and enthusiastic--"
+
+"And inexperienced," put in Arthur.
+
+"Don't interrupt me, sir. Where was I? Oh yes!--that young and
+enthusiastic and inexperienced people are accustomed to swear. And my
+father, who was very stern and had old-fashioned notions--and has now,
+for that matter, dear old papa!--said that, whatever befell, he would
+not on any account give the least encouragement or the slightest
+permission to any lover till I was past twenty years old. Not that I
+cared, only it was such fun to hear the men talk, and me looking
+unutterable things and saying softly, 'You must never say anything to me
+on this subject again till you have papa's consent: he would be very
+angry if he knew what you've said already'! You see, I knew papa's
+will--it is unchangeable as granite: at least I thought it was--and I
+felt perfectly safe.
+
+"This was, you know--no, you don't know--but it was the year I came out
+in society. And I used to go to receptions and all sorts of things with
+papa, and receive his company, and sit at the head of the table, and
+keep house, just as my mother would have done if she'd been living. I
+hardly remember mamma: I was not four years old when she died. And
+society and people's admiration seemed so glorious! I declared I'd never
+marry, but go on to the end of my days saying 'No' to any man that asked
+me, and enjoying such a lot of pity for the poor fellows. I deliberately
+hardened my heart, as many a girl does at that age, and fairly
+pitied--yes, actually pitied--the girls that were so weak as to fall in
+love and get married. I think papa used to encourage me in the feeling,
+for he didn't like to think of losing me out of the house, and he a
+judge and a Congressman, and having ever so much company, and nobody but
+dear old-fashioned Aunt Jane to help him receive them if I was to leave
+him.
+
+"When father was re-elected to Congress we had a glorious reception at
+our house in the country, and among others that came to it was a Mr.
+Sterling, the son of my father's college chum, and a promising young
+sprig of the law, father said. He came to stay a day or two in the house
+as a visitor before the reception, and was to leave the morning after it
+took place."
+
+At this point in the narrative Mr. Arthur bethought him of a letter he
+must write, and begged to be excused for a time--a piece of rare good
+sense on his part, considering how much the story had to do with
+himself.
+
+"During his stay we had been a good deal together. I had been his guide
+to all the famous spots in the neighborhood, and he had been chatty and
+bright, and amused me greatly. We had a little chat in the conservatory
+that evening of the reception, and I told him I was sorry to have him
+leave.
+
+"'Thank you,' he said. 'I would rather hear you say that than anything
+you could have said, except one.'
+
+"'What is that, pray?' I asked.
+
+"'That you would like to see me here again.'
+
+"'Oh,' I replied, 'I never give invitations: papa does that. Of course
+he'll be glad to see you again.'
+
+"'And you?'
+
+"'Why, since you insist upon my saying it, I shall be glad too: you
+amuse me greatly.'
+
+"'So might a tight-rope performer or a performing dog, I suppose?'
+
+"'No: I don't care for such amusements. I like to hear the talk of
+bright men, and you strike me as a very bright man.'
+
+"'It is only the reflection of yourself, Miss Bronson,' he said in a
+cold society tone, which, strange to say, pained me, and I replied that
+I didn't care for compliments: I had plenty of them, and they palled on
+me.
+
+"Then he said, 'Do you want me to tell you the truth, the out-and-out
+truth--the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God?'
+
+"'That's an oath, Mr. Sterling,' I said: 'don't commit yourself.'
+
+"'I do commit myself--I came here to commit myself. I want you to hear
+me out and believe that I realize fully the solemnity of what I am
+saying. I have sought this opportunity to tell you that I love you, Miss
+Bronson.'
+
+"Strangely enough, I wasn't the least moved: I don't think my heart beat
+the least bit faster; and I said, 'Why, Mr. Sterling, how can you know
+anything about me? How can you love me, when you've known me only two
+days, and seen me always on my best behavior? I am a very unlovable
+person: if you only knew me well you'd soon find it out. Of course, if
+you love me, it is all very well for you to tell me so, but I can't
+understand why you should.'
+
+"'Is that all you have to say to me, Miss Bronson?' he asked earnestly.
+
+"'Why, what can I say? You don't know me, and I don't know you; and you
+think you love me, and I don't love you at all. I'm fond of you in a
+certain way, to be sure, but love is quite a different thing. I never
+shall love anybody very much except papa: I never intend to. I'm very
+kind to you, Mr. Sterling, to talk to you as I do. In a few weeks, when
+you've all but forgotten my existence, you'll think of me just enough to
+be grateful to me for talking to you as I have. Love isn't a mushroom to
+spring up in a night: it is an oak to grow and grow, and only come to
+perfection after years and years. You don't love me at all, Mr.
+Sterling: you only think you do.'
+
+"All this time he stood silent, looking more awkward than I ever saw him
+before or have seen him since. Then he put out his hand and said, 'I'll
+bid you good-bye, Miss Bronson: I'm going early in the morning. I shall
+not see you then, so I'll say good-bye now. I am going abroad in a few
+days.'
+
+"'Abroad! where?' I hadn't heard of it, and I felt a strange sort of
+pang--of surprise, I thought.
+
+"'To Leipsic, to finish my studies. I shall be gone a considerable
+time--two years at least. When I return I shall come to you and repeat
+what I've said to-night.'
+
+"'Oh no, you won't: you'll forget all about it. I'd much rather you
+would. Please don't feel bound to come back: I release you from your
+oath, and I shall not expect you.'
+
+"I don't know what more we might have said, but there was a flutter
+among the vines by the door, and we thought some one was near us. We
+were just returning into the adjoining dining-room when a little brown
+bird flew out into the light, and, hopping about among the flowers,
+began chirping in a sad sort of way that caught our attention at once.
+
+"'It is only the little widow,' I said.
+
+"'Lost her mate, eh?' Arthur said carelessly. He wasn't Arthur then, you
+know, but Mr. Sterling.
+
+"'Yes: he's deserted her. She built here in the vines last spring when
+the conservatory was all thrown open. They were such a pair of lovers,
+she and her mate! She raised two broods of little ones, and it was quite
+a domestic revelation for me to see them, they seemed so fond of each
+other, and so happy, and so loving. But a month ago, when the plants
+were brought in and the cold nights began to come on, he left her, and
+she has been sad and heartbroken ever since.'
+
+"'Perhaps he'll come back to her by and by,' said Arthur.
+
+"'Oh no: he'll no more come back to her than you'll come back to me.'
+
+"'Then he's sure to come,' replied Arthur; and just then my father came
+to look for me and bid me join the other guests.
+
+"I didn't see Arthur again that night, and the next day he was gone. I
+never missed anybody so much. Nobody and nothing seemed to fill his
+place. I went into the room he had occupied, and found there a glove
+that he had left behind. I took it to my room and said, 'I'll keep it
+for him till he comes back.' I tried to speak lightly, and was surprised
+and angry at myself that the trivial thought seemed to mean so much.
+
+"The winter wore on, and the little forsaken bird remained in the
+conservatory, and sometimes would fly into the room, and I felt a lonely
+sort of sympathy with it. I used to take the bird in my hand sometimes
+and call it a poor thing, and talk to it, and tell it that it was no
+worse off than many a poor girl or many a young wife, for men were like
+her mate, and promised all sorts of things they didn't mean, and
+couldn't be faithful if they tried. After a while we went to Washington,
+and I saw a great many people and received a great deal of attention.
+The Prussian ambassador had a brother visiting him--a Baron
+Dumbkopf--very handsome, very rich, very distingu�, and soon very
+attentive to me. He was constantly at our house, and he was agreeable
+enough and easy to talk to, and very obedient, and very seldom a bore. I
+rather liked him, and papa liked him exceedingly. I wasn't at all
+surprised when one day he suddenly became sentimental and ended by
+offering me his hand.
+
+"'Have you spoken with my father on this subject?' I asked.
+
+"He had not: would I give him permission to do so? I told him that I
+should not even consider his proposition for a moment till he had talked
+with my father; that I never intended to marry without my father's
+consent; and as for falling in love, I was sure I should never do that.
+
+"So he went away to talk with my father, and I felt safe. I hadn't an
+idea papa would do as he did, you see; but the truth is, papas are not
+to be depended upon--at least, not always.
+
+"The next day my father called me into the library and asked me if I
+loved Baron Dumbkopf.
+
+"'No,' I said, 'I don't love him.'
+
+"'Do you like him?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Do you dislike him?'
+
+"'No: I am quite indifferent to him.'
+
+"'He is of a very good family and of excellent character,' said my
+father.
+
+"'I know all that,' I replied. 'Do you wish me to marry him, papa?'
+
+"'I can't say that I wish you to, my daughter, but if you loved him I
+should be pleased for you to have such a husband.'
+
+"I was never more surprised in my life. Then he told me a great many
+things about the baron--how universally he was esteemed, what a position
+he held in society, how wealthy he was, how honorable and how good.
+These things I knew before. They certainly had weight with me in favor
+of the baron: I think they would have had with almost any girl. I asked
+my father if he had given the baron any encouragement, and he replied
+that he had left everything between the baron and myself for settlement.
+
+"The next evening the German came again to woo me with my father's
+sanction. He became very earnest, and I told him that I would not, could
+not, give him any hope. He asked me if it might ever be otherwise, and I
+told him I thought not. 'Well,' he said, 'I shall certainly ask you
+again. I return to Germany in April, and I shall hope to carry home the
+tidings of my betrothal.'
+
+"It was then late in the winter, and pretty soon we returned to the
+country, for father liked to be close to Nature when it burst into its
+new life.
+
+"How nice it seemed to be once more in the old house! I soon found
+myself interested in my old occupations, and most of all in the care of
+the conservatory, which was then all abloom with azaleas and other
+spring-flowering plants. There too was the little widow, as sad as ever,
+but glad to see me back, and more than ready to resume the old
+friendship. We had hardly got into our old routine ways before my father
+announced one morning that the baron Dumbkopf was coming down to say
+good-bye before leaving for Germany. I knew very well what it all meant,
+and I began to think that as it was my father's wish that I should marry
+some time, and that as I could hardly find a husband more suited to his
+ideas, and that as I probably should never fall in love, I might as well
+accept him as anybody. Then I began to think of Arthur. Thoughts of the
+two men crossed and recrossed in my mind, closely woven like the threads
+in a cloth. I used to go and look at his glove and talk to the little
+bird-widow about him, and really was quite angry with myself for having
+him so much in my mind and he so long gone.
+
+"At last the baron came. He was a splendid-looking man, and his manners
+were perfect. These things tell for so much with girls! He came, and one
+morning--I remember it well: it was a cold, blowy spring morning--he
+found me alone in the conservatory and renewed his suit. I was petting
+the little bird when he found me, and he said, 'Dear little bird! he is
+to be envied in having so much tenderness shown him.'
+
+"'It is a female bird,' I said, 'and a forsaken bird, for its mate has
+flown away and left it broken-hearted;' and I began at once to think of
+Arthur, and fell into a reverie.
+
+"The baron interpreted my little speech and my subsequent silence as
+favorable to himself. He really thought I was beginning to pity myself
+because he was going away. 'Ah,' he said, 'you know why I have come?'
+
+"'To say good-bye,' I answered.
+
+"'Perhaps, but to say first that I love you still, and to ask you to be
+my wife.'
+
+"My heart beat rapidly now, and I think the little bird that I was
+holding to my bosom must have felt it, for it began to chirp in a low
+murmur as if it would comfort me.
+
+"'Give me a little time to think,' I said; and, strangely enough, all my
+thinking was of Arthur and his going away, and his promised return; and
+then I said to myself, 'What folly! he has forgotten me. If he had loved
+me he wouldn't have gone till he had my word of love in return. He's
+forgotten all about me.'
+
+"The baron was gaining ground with me: I was reasoning myself into
+something above esteem for him, and I turned to put my hand in his,
+when there was a tap at the window, and the little bird, struggling from
+my hand, burst into such a flood of singing that the whole place was
+drowned with melody.
+
+"'Oh,' I cried, 'her mate has come back! her mate has come back! He is
+fluttering against the window. Do let him in, baron, the poor dear,
+happy little thing!' and I sat down among the azaleas and the budding
+Easter lilies and cried like a baby.
+
+"The poor baron did let the little bird in, and side by side we
+witnessed the joy of their meeting, expressed in a hundred tender little
+caresses.
+
+"At last the baron said, 'You forget, Miss Bronson, you haven't given me
+my answer.'
+
+"'And I can't answer you now,' I said. 'Please forget me. Indeed, I
+don't know what to say to you: I believe I shall say No.'
+
+"'Don't say anything,' he replied. 'I have done wrong. I have not given
+you time to think. I must go now, but a year from now I shall ask you
+the same question again, and then you must say Yes or No; and God grant
+it may be the first!'
+
+"'You are very good,' I said; 'and a year hence I will tell you if I can
+be your wife or not.'
+
+"So the baron went away, and he had hardly been gone a week when I was
+ashamed of having been so much affected by the bird's return. The idea
+of believing in omens! Then a little time further on there came a letter
+from a friend of mine in Leipsic which mentioned Arthur Sterling, spoke
+of him as a young man very popular in society--you know Arthur is most
+fascinating--and said that he was very attentive to a young American
+girl there, a beautiful blond: they were seen everywhere together, and
+report said he was to marry her.
+
+"'It is a lie!' I said to myself: 'he promised to come back to me.' And
+then I said again, 'Why should I be angry? why should I believe him? I
+hardly knew him, and most men are false.' I was such a silly girl, I
+thought. Then father was always speaking of the baron: I could see that
+he was sorry I had not accepted him at once. And Aunt Jane, she had to
+talk to me about it, and say that she couldn't last long, and that
+father was getting old, and that I ought to think about getting married,
+and--Well, you know how women talk to each other about marrying.
+Considering that Aunt Jane had never thought of marrying herself, it
+oughtn't to have had much weight with me, but it did.
+
+"The year wore on. Of course I thought a great deal about Arthur, but I
+thought a good deal about the baron too. The little bird was no longer
+lonesome; and as she and her mate had built themselves a nest, and had
+domestic duties to perform in rearing a brood of young ones, they were
+too much wrapped up in their own affairs to be very companionable. But
+when autumn came again, and the leaves were falling and the cold winds
+blew out of the north, that foolish little mate flew off to the south,
+and the little forsaken thing came back into the conservatory and wanted
+to be comforted. And we did comfort her as best we could. All the winter
+through she was in and out from the conservatory to the dining-room,
+becoming very friendly and answering to her name instantly: papa had
+named her Niobe.
+
+"In due course of time the early spring came round again, and one April
+morning there came a letter from the baron. He asked me for my answer:
+should he come and take me with him to his German home? I showed the
+letter to papa, and all he said was, 'My daughter, he would make you an
+excellent husband--such a one as your poor mother would wish for you
+were she alive. I hope you'll consider the matter well before you say
+No.'
+
+"I thought it all over. Why not? Yes, I would write to the baron and say
+Yes. Arthur was away; he'd never come back; he was in love with that
+pretty blond. Was it likely I was going to ruin my life for him? I had
+too much sense for that. I would just go and throw his old glove into
+the fire and all thoughts of him to the winds. So I went for the glove,
+and kissed it--foolish thing!--and put it back in my treasure-box, and
+went on thinking of Arthur more than ever. Then I remonstrated with
+myself for my foolishness, and took my writing-desk in my lap and sat
+down in the conservatory to write to the baron. I began my letter 'My
+dear Arthur,' and then had to begin again, and started fairly with 'My
+dear baron.' Then I tried to frame a proper sentence to start with, but
+that desolate little bird came flying to my shoulder, and chirped so
+sadly and so persistently that it put me all out.
+
+"'Oh, you poor foolish little thing!' I said: 'anybody would think there
+were no other birds in the world but your faithless mate.'
+
+"The bird fluttered and chirped and talked with a purring song, which I
+fancied to say, 'Oh, my poor heart! poor heart! poor broken heart!
+Alas!' and it was such a strong impression that I put my hand to my own
+heart and held on there, while I laid my head on one side till it
+touched the feathers of the bird on my shoulder; and so we sat silently
+musing.
+
+"What do you think roused us? There was a quick fluttering in the bird's
+breast. She flew away from my shoulder: she flew to the top of the
+highest azalea, and she sung--oh, how she sung! Joy, victory over doubt,
+faith crowned, glimpses of heaven in the spring sunlight,--they were all
+in that song. I knew in a minute what had come. I threw open the sash,
+and out of the sunshine, borne in with the odors of the new grass and
+budding trees, came a little brown bird, tired as from a long journey,
+but with a song of greeting that overtopped even the song of welcome
+that awaited him.
+
+"I watched them a moment, as if in a spell, and then I tore up my letter
+to the baron and tossed it among the flowers; and the tears came in my
+eyes, and I said aloud, 'Oh, Arthur, I do love you--I know I do! If you
+don't come back I shall die.'
+
+"'Then, dear, you shall not die, for I am here;' and the foolish
+boy--for it was Arthur come back and stolen upon me to surprise me--put
+his dear strong arms about me, and I was ready to faint, and cried a
+little on his shoulder, and he kissed me, and we went in to papa and
+talked it all over; and he told me about his finishing his studies and
+hurrying home, and all about the blond, a cousin of his who was out in
+Leipsic with her mother studying music, and they'd made a home for him,
+and said I should know them and they should know me; and it was all
+lovely. And the result of it all is, here we are, and we love birds, and
+we love each other. And do you wonder at it? And here's Arthur, coming
+back from his letters. And, and--Come and kiss me, Arthur."
+
+And so the little lady finished with a kiss, as she had begun, and the
+parrot moved uneasily on his perch at being disturbed with conversation
+at so late an hour, and the Java sparrows twittered a little; and I rose
+to go, only asking, "And the baron?"
+
+"Oh! he's married since--such a lovely wife!--and I dare say is as
+grateful to the bird as Arthur and I. You see, he was only
+infatuated--Arthur and I were in love."
+
+"Good-night," from me.
+
+"Good-night, good-night," from them; and I heard another kiss as I went
+down the walk.
+
+WM. M.F. ROUND.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOCKING-BIRD.
+
+
+    A golden pallor of voluptuous light
+        Filled the warm Southern night:
+    The moon, clear orbed, above the sylvan scene
+        Moved like a stately queen.
+    So rife with conscious beauty all the while,
+        What could she do but smile
+    At her own perfect loveliness below,
+        Glassed in the tranquil flow
+    Of crystal fountains and unruffled streams?
+        Half lost in waking dreams,
+    As down the loneliest forest-dell I strayed,
+        Lo! from a neighboring glade,
+    Flashed through the drifts of moonshine, swiftly came
+        A fairy shape of flame.
+    It rose in dazzling spirals overhead,
+        Whence, to wild sweetness wed,
+    Poured marvellous melodies, silvery trill on trill:
+        The very leaves grew still
+    On the charmed trees to hearken; while for me,
+        Heart-thrilled to ecstasy,
+    I followed--followed the bright shape that flew,
+        Still circling up the blue,
+    Till as a fountain that has reached its height
+        Falls back, in sprays of light
+    Slowly dissolved, so that enrapturing lay
+        Divinely melts away
+    Through tremulous spaces to a music-mist,
+        Soon by the fitful breeze
+          How gently kissed
+    Into remote and tender silences.
+
+PAUL H. HAYNE.
+
+
+
+
+POPULAR MARRIAGE CUSTOMS OF SICILY.
+
+
+The customs of the Sicilian people in regard to the celebration of
+marriages are so numerous and so strange that were I to attempt to
+describe them all I should furnish not only the material for a volume,
+but also for a series of quaint pictures. I shall not pretend to collect
+the most of them, but only present a few which will awaken, I trust,
+some interest in those who study popular traditions and the comparative
+history of customs and usages.
+
+Let us begin by supposing two young people in love with each other. The
+parents of the young girl are aware of the fact, but have shut their
+eyes because the match is a good and fitting one. When, on taking her
+daughter to mass, the mother has noticed her blush on meeting the young
+man more than once, she has pretended not to notice it. At night she has
+heard some love-song at the door, and seen that her daughter was the
+first to awaken at it, but has remained oblivious of this also. She
+knows all, and pretends to know nothing--sees her daughter careful about
+her dress, often hears mentioned a name dear to her, mentions it herself
+with praise, and contributes without seeming to do so to increase that
+love which sooner or later becomes a subject of conversation to
+neighbors, to friends, to all. The matter is known, and it is time for
+the parents of the young man to go or send to the parents of the young
+girl to ask her hand.
+
+Here begins the business of the future marriage. The young man's mother
+visits the girl's mother, and gives her to understand that they wish to
+make the match, and therefore would like to know whether their proposal
+is agreeable and what dower the girl will have. The other mother, after
+the usual compliments have been exchanged, either gives at once, or
+promises to give, a memorandum of all that she is able to bestow on her
+daughter as dower.
+
+This is the most usual way of arranging a marriage, but the manner
+formerly varied, and still varies, in places. In Noto, in the province
+of Syracuse, fifty years ago the mother of the young man put under her
+Greek mantle the reed of a loora, and going to the house of a young girl
+asked her mother if she had a reed like that. If the match was
+acceptable, the reed was found at once: if not, there was no reed, or
+they could not find it, or they would look for it.[14] In the county of
+Modica the mother selected the future daughter-in-law by trial. She went
+to one of the young girls of the neighborhood, and if she found her busy
+the matter was settled: if idle, she went home again, repeating three
+times the word _abrenuntio_, Sicilianized as well as possible.[15]
+
+The memorandum above mentioned, written, according to traditional usage,
+by some one for this particular occasion, is sent wrapped up in a silk
+handkerchief which belongs by right to the young man. As soon as the
+memorandum is sent and accepted the announcement of the engagement or
+the betrothal takes place. On this occasion the relatives of the parties
+are present, and at the proper moment one of the parents of the young
+girl announces in a solemn tone the future marriage, and makes known the
+time (generally it is a matter of years) which will elapse before it is
+celebrated. Everything is religiously accepted by the guests and the
+interested parties, and after congratulations have been offered a
+banquet or supper (technically termed _trattamento_, "entertainment")
+takes place, in which a sort of fried pastry called _sfincuini_ plays an
+important part, accompanied by filberts, almonds and chestnuts. The
+whole is washed down by copious draughts of wine.
+
+The manner in which the betrothal is celebrated is sometimes very
+curious. At Salaparuta, in the province of Trapani, the girl takes her
+place in the centre of the room: her future mother-in-law then enters
+and parts her hair, places a ring on her finger, gives her a
+handkerchief and kisses her. At Assaro, in the province of Catania, the
+young man presents his betrothed with a red ribbon, which she braids
+into her hair as a sign of her betrothal, and does not leave off until
+the wedding. This custom is observed in many places in Sicily, and is
+called the _'nzingata_ (from _'nzinga_, "sign"). In the county of Modica
+the girl is veiled in a broad white veil, tied under the chin with a
+purple ribbon. This custom of the ribbon (also called '_ntrizzaturi_,
+"head-dress") often takes the place of the formal proposal and
+announcement of the betrothal. In a popular song a young man in making
+love to a girl offers her a red ribbon, which is the same as offering
+her his hand.[16] As soon as the betrothal has taken place, the _fianc�_
+must think at once about a present for his _fianc�e_. This varies, of
+course, according to the ability and taste of the giver. Formerly it was
+a tortoise-shell comb, a silver needlecase, a silk handkerchief,
+ear-rings, finger-rings, gloves, etc. Now-a-days nothing is left but
+rings and a certain silver arrangement to support the hair, and called,
+like the ribbon above mentioned, _'ntrizzaturi_. In Milazzo and its
+territory the fianc� makes a present of a small gold cross for the neck,
+an engagement-ring and a dish of fish.
+
+The fianc�e returns the gift, usually with under-clothing,
+handkerchiefs, etc. During the betrothal, while the lovers are enjoying
+their love, the fianc� does not let the principal festivals of the year
+pass without expressing his affection by suitable presents--at Easter, a
+piece of pastry containing an egg, or a little wax lamb; on the feast of
+St. Peter, keys made of pastry, with honey or confectionery or cinnamon,
+according to the ability of the giver. On All Souls' Day he gives candy,
+fruit, etc.; on St. Martin's, a kind of biscuit named after the saint;
+at Christmas, cakes and pastry containing dried fruit; and finally, for
+his fianc�e's birthday, something still finer.
+
+We have now reached the eve of the wedding, and the time has arrived for
+the valuation of the bride's trousseau--a ceremony known by different
+names in different parts of Sicily, but usually termed _stima_. Let us
+enter for a moment the house of the bride. Everything is in a pleasant
+state of confusion. Friends and relatives of the betrothed have been
+invited to the ceremony, and take part in it with an air of satisfied
+curiosity. Upon the large bed of the bride's mother is displayed the
+trousseau, sorted according to the various articles composing it, while
+from lines stretched across the room hang the dresses and suits of
+clothes. Near by are tables, chairs and chests of drawers. A woman
+called the _stimatura_ ("appraiser") examines each article of the outfit
+and appraises its value, announcing the approximate price, sometimes
+publicly, sometimes secretly to the accountant. The appraisal is final,
+and generally in favor of the fianc�e, for the value of the trousseau
+goes to increase the dower. Not infrequently the mother of the fianc�
+complains of the exaggerations of the _stimatura_, and disagreeable
+recriminations follow. Finally, the parents of the bride bestow on her a
+certain number of "ounces,"[17] which the _stimatura_ announces in a
+solemn tone. If the parents have anything else to give their daughter in
+the way of money or silver, they announce it with the utmost gravity,
+while the fianc�, for his part, declares that he will give his wife
+after his death the sum of twenty or thirty ounces as a gift. This
+present is known at Salaparuta by the name of _buon amore_, at Palermo
+as _verginista'_--true _pretium sanguinis_ which the giver does not
+possess, and which the wife will never receive. At this valuation, in
+some parts of the island, each one of the relatives offers to the
+parties gifts of jewelry and clothing, which are requited by similar
+gifts from the bride and groom.
+
+The civil marriage precedes the religious, which, however, is more
+important to the people than the former: hence the evening after the
+civil marriage the groom goes about his business as though he were not
+yet married. The religious marriage, on the contrary, is a festal
+occasion. The hour differs according to habits and family tastes. In
+Salaparuta the marriage takes place before night--in Ficarazzi, before
+daybreak, a favorite time for those contracting a second marriage. In
+Palermo the wedding formerly took place late in the evening or in the
+night, whence there was a necessity for attendants with lighted torches.
+If the Sicilian Jews preferred to go in the dark to their synagogues,
+and considered themselves favored by King Peter when in 1338 he allowed
+them to go to their weddings with a single lantern, the Christians were
+not satisfied with four or six lights, but wanted twenty or more--an
+actual procession. Frederick II. in 1292 limited the number of lights to
+twelve only, six for each party. Now, at Palermo, the wedding takes
+place at any hour of the day or night, and only the poorest walk to the
+church: the others ride in carriages paid for by those using them at so
+much apiece. In the first carriage are the bride and her mother and
+intimate friends--in the second, the other women in the order of
+relationship. The groom occupies the first place in the carriages
+assigned to the men: then come his father, brothers and others. The
+bride is dressed in various ways, and her dress is called _l'abitu di lu
+'nguaggiu_ ("wedding-dress"). In Salaparuta she wears the Greek peplum,
+gathered under the arms; in Terrasini, a dress of blue or some other
+bright color; in Milazzo, a blue silk skirt with wide sleeves; in
+Palermo, a white dress, the _tunica alba_ of the Romans, with a veil
+kept on the head by a wreath of orange-flowers. In Assaro (province of
+Catania) by an old baronial custom the wedding-ring is presented by a
+young man of noble family. Speaking of the wedding-ring, it may be noted
+that formerly it was carefully preserved on a table for many purposes,
+as at Valledolino the whole dress is kept to be used some day as a
+shroud.[18]
+
+There are some parts of the country where the entrance to the church is
+also a ceremony. An old tradition of Palermo, grafted on a popular tale,
+informs us that in certain districts esteemed somewhat rude by the
+inhabitants of the old capital the bride entered the church on
+horseback, erect and proud.[19] In Salaparuta she enters by the lesser
+door of the cathedral and departs by the principal one, afterward
+passing beneath the belfry. In Palermo the newly-wedded pair on leaving
+the church enter the same carriage, and followed by relatives and
+friends take a drive about the city. It is on this occasion that they
+throw to their neighbors confectionery, which they are also accustomed
+to present personally. This custom is a Roman one, in spite of the fact
+that candy has taken the place of the nuts which the bridegroom bestowed
+on the children after the wedding. Outside of Palermo and other large
+cities the confectionery is replaced by roasted chickpeas, alone or
+mixed with beans, almonds, filberts, etc. On the other hand, relatives
+and friends as the bride and groom go by throw after them not only
+confectionery, but dried or roasted fruits, wheat and barley; which they
+call a sign of abundance. In Milazzo the simple ceremony is turned into
+a spectacle: when the pair come out of the church they are suddenly
+received by a perfect hail of confectionery thrown by their nearest
+relatives, from which they strive to escape by quickening their pace or
+running away.[20] In Syracuse salt and spelt are thrown as a symbol of
+wisdom, which recalls the _confarreatio_ of the Romans; in Assaro, salt
+and wheat; nuts and wheat in Modicano; in Terrasini, nuts, chestnuts,
+beans and sweetmeats of honey and flour; in Camporeale, wheat alone. In
+Avola (province of Syracuse) one of the bride's most intimate lady
+friends, upon the arrival of the pair, presents the bride with an
+apronful of orange-leaves, and tossing them in her face exclaims,
+congratulating her, "Contentment and sons!" and scatters orange-leaves
+also over the sill where the bride must pass. Sometimes she breaks at
+her feet two eggs--a truly Oriental symbol of fruitfulness. In the
+county of Modica wine is sprinkled before the door and the bottle
+broken: when the married pair have entered, the husband is offered a
+spoonful of honey, of which he takes half and gives the rest to his
+wife. There gifts of sweetmeats, dried fruits, etc. are given to the
+guests.[21] In Avola a spoonful of honeyed almonds is presented to each
+of the lady-guests--in Marineo (province of Palermo) and in Prizzi clear
+honey and a sip or two of water.
+
+The house of the wedded pair is ornamented with flowers, as we learn
+from the popular Sicilian song: "Flowers of roses: the bride when she
+returns from the church finds the house adorned with flowers." The
+marriage _pro verbo de pr�senti in faciem ecclesi�_ is termed
+_'nguaggi�risi_ (and hence the dress above mentioned, _l'abitu di lu
+'nguaggiu_), but the contracting parties are not yet man and wife; and
+to become so it is necessary to undergo another religious ceremony,
+which consists in hearing mass and kneeling before the altar holding a
+lighted wax candle while the priest bestows on them the benediction _pro
+sponso et sponsa_. The old legal grants (_concessi_) to young girls who
+married could not, nor can they now, be claimed without this ceremony;
+and the bride does not enter into possession of the legacy which she has
+acquired until she shows to the proper person the certificate of her
+parish priest that she has been married and espoused (_'nguaggiatu e
+sposatu_). The latter ceremony may take place within a year after the
+marriage. Widows, according to the Roman ritual approved by Pope Paul V.,
+were not formerly, nor are they now, ever _espoused_: nevertheless,
+in the seventeenth century there were many examples[22] of widows
+blessed a second time in the parish church of St. Hippolytus in Palermo.
+
+We are face to face with a newly-married couple in the midst of people
+who have a good breeding of their own; and we, who measure our words and
+are ashamed to eat our soup with a wooden spoon, must enter their
+cottage and take part in the poor but sincere, joyful and cordial
+festival of the evening. Let us betake ourselves for a short time to
+Trapani, and look in on one of those modest houses during a
+wedding-night.
+
+When the bride and groom return from the church they find at the house
+of the former a drink prepared from the milk of almonds and some small
+cakes. While at table the groom leaves his wife a moment to go to his
+father's house, and returns when the meal is half finished. He remains
+with her until midnight, when he takes her to his mother's, where there
+is a new celebration, similar to the one that has already taken place at
+the bride's mother's. The hour at which the groom goes for the bride is
+so scrupulously observed that any delay would be a grave cause of
+complaint, and perhaps of quarrels. The first day of the celebration is
+called the "festival of the bride" (_fistinu di la zita_), and the
+guests are all selected by the bride's mother. The second day is called
+the "festival of the groom" (_fistinu di lu zitu_), and the guests are
+all the friends of the groom. This ceremonial is, however, not so fine
+as that called "of the bride," _di lu macad�ru_. The bride, elegantly
+dressed, is seated beneath a mirror to receive the congratulations of
+her friends. At her right and left are placed seats for relatives and
+friends, arranged according to certain traditional laws which no one
+ever thinks of violating. The right side is reserved for the relatives
+of the groom; and if any one is prevented by ill-health from attending
+the festival, the seat belonging to him is either left vacant, or some
+friend is sent to occupy it, or a pomegranate is placed in it, or it is
+turned upside down. We may note, in passing, that the women alone are
+allowed to be seated in the circle: the men, of every age and rank,
+remain standing. This custom, and especially the position assumed by
+the bride at that time, has given rise to the proverbial expression of
+comparison: _Pari la zita di lu macad�ru_, which is said of a woman in
+gala-dress.[23]
+
+Let us now pass to other parts of the island and share the
+nuptial-banquet. Everywhere great quantities of macaroni or of fried
+fish are prepared, and the guests eat and drink to repletion. Even the
+most miserly are liberal on this occasion, and a proverb advises one to
+attend the weddings of the avaricious: _A li nozzi di l'avaru
+trovaticci_. The bride and groom, as can be easily imagined, have their
+heads full of other things than macaroni and fried fish. At Borghetto
+baked beans and pease are served not only to the bridal-party, but also
+to the others, to whom, during the banquet, it is the custom to send a
+dish of _maccarruna di zitu_--a dish in use also in Modica until within
+fifty years. In Assaro there are the accustomed sweetmeats, the cakes of
+honey and flour, and roast pease and almonds. At the banquet, where
+usually these things are not lacking, they begin with macaroni, which in
+Milazzo is poured out on a napkin, with cheese grated over it. Then
+follow sausages or roast meat. At the nuptial-banquet of the peasants of
+Modica a dish is placed on the table intended to receive the gifts of
+the guests for the bride: one gives money, another gold; one a ring,
+another a dollar; nor do those who come last wish to be outdone by the
+first. At the end of the banquet come the toasts, more or less lively
+and witty.
+
+After the banquet follows the ball, which at Favaratta is held eight
+days after the wedding. The orchestra consists of two or three violins,
+which play the whole evening, or afternoon if the marriage took place in
+the daytime. The r�pertoire is that of the people, and embraces the
+dances known as the _fas�la_,[24] the _tarantella_, the _tarasc�ri_, the
+_'nglisina_, the _capona_, the _chiovu_, etc. In some of the towns in
+the province of Palermo it is the groom who engages the musicians and
+conducts them to the house. In Modica they dance the _ciovu_ (the
+_chiovu_ above mentioned) to the accompaniment not only of violins, but
+also of tambourines, etc. The groom opens the ball, holding his hat in
+his hand and making a profound bow to the bride, who rises with alacrity
+and begins to dance with all her might. The groom makes another bow and
+sits down again, and the bride, dancing alone, makes a turn round the
+room and selects a partner from the guests, who in turn choose a woman,
+and so on in graceful alternation.
+
+In general, in large cities, there is no one who calls out the figures
+at the ball: the musicians play what they please, unless they are asked
+to change or continue a tune that has tired or pleased any one of the
+guests. The dancing is without any rule or order: nevertheless, there is
+some regularity in its execution, especially in the pantomime that
+accompanies it. The bride and groom dance their share: the first one
+with whom the bride dances is the groom, who permits her to dance with
+others.
+
+An interesting subject in the history of the Sicilian people would be
+this ball after the nuptial-banquet if it could be illustrated in all
+the varieties of ancient and modern customs. Buonfiglio, the historian
+of Messina, has left us in his larger work an account of these customs
+two centuries and a half ago. The peasants, he says, have not abandoned
+the ancient custom of dancing in a crowd and in a circle to the sound of
+the lyre and flute, although these have been changed for the songs of
+the musicians; and they dance with the handkerchief, being extremely
+jealous of allowing the hands of their wives to be touched. So also with
+the collection of the presents from the relatives and guests in
+profusion; and this takes place after the groom has offered them
+something to eat three times, on which account the ovens are filled with
+meat, with kettles of rice cooked in milk, the wine constantly going the
+rounds.[25]
+
+In Milazzo the dance "threatens the existence of the bride," to cite an
+historian of the place. Here, as elsewhere, the groom has a patron, a
+gentleman to whom he lends his services, and by whom he is rewarded, not
+always generously. At the ball the bride knows that if the patron or
+other gentleman of the city dance with her, he will leave a silver piece
+in her hand; and if her partner is of her own rank, it will not remain
+empty. So she summons up all the strength of her limbs and spends hours
+and hours in dancing; for dancing with the new bride that evening is an
+occasion for boasting.
+
+However rich the popular songs of Sicily are, they are very poor in
+nuptial-songs. Among the many thousand that have seen the light the
+following, from Cianciana and Casteltermini, is characteristic, because
+peculiar to the evening of the wedding: "Come and sing this evening to
+the bride and groom. Oh what joy! what delight! (You, O wife!) hold the
+seat of power: when the sun appears you rise. There are pleasant sights,
+with dress of gold and all embroidered. This song is sung to the bride
+and groom. Good-day! long life and health!"[26] The following song, from
+Borghetto, is a greeting to the pair on their return from the church:
+"Long live in health the bride and groom! What a beautiful and fortunate
+marriage! Let the mind be firm and the heart constant. And so we come to
+the happy day. I would that my words were as sweet as those of a song,
+and my lute well tuned! A hundred years I would sing new songs. Long
+live love and marriage!" This other song, from Palermo, a variant of one
+already published, is also an expression of good wishes for the pair:
+"Health to this excellent pair! What a fine and gallant wedding! The
+bridegroom seems like a resplendent sun, and the bride like a Greek from
+the Levant. How many obstacles there have been! The stars of heaven go
+before. Now the bride and groom are happy: the diamond is set in gold."
+
+At the ball the singing is done alternately by some of the guests. The
+favorite song in the cities is that of the class called _arie_--in the
+country, _canzoni_. The three songs above cited are those which are
+heard on such occasions.
+
+Song, dance and music alternate, and are prolonged for hours, until the
+guests are tired out and prepare to leave the bride and groom, who are
+already sleepy.
+
+Let the reader accompany the pair to their abode. The door is open, the
+room lighted, the bed prepared: some sighs and laments are heard among
+the bystanders. It is the mother, the married sisters (young girls do
+not accompany to her home the sister who marries), who are grieved at
+seeing their sister leave her home and become another's, uncertain of
+the lot that will be hers in the future. An old custom requires the
+bride to be undressed and put to bed by her mother-in-law. In lack of
+the mother-in-law the right belongs to the oldest sister-in-law. Woe to
+whoever dares to transgress this custom! Grave quarrels would arise, and
+even worse. I have myself been present when a family having wished to do
+as they pleased and not adhere to custom, blows and wounds followed, and
+the bride and groom were obliged to spend the night in jail.
+
+The first visits paid to the newly-married pair are by their mothers,
+who hasten to congratulate them. These are followed later by friends,
+who go to make the _bon lirata_.
+
+The bride remains at home a week to receive the visits of relatives,
+friends and acquaintances who either did or did not share in the
+wedding-festivities. After this time she leaves the house solemnly for
+the first time to go and hear mass, high mass being ordinarily
+preferred. The white dress which in some localities constitutes the
+wedding-dress, in others is the one worn on the first occasion of
+leaving the house and in returning the visits of the guests.
+
+The last act of this drama or comedy of life is a journey on which the
+husband must take his wife within a year after their marriage. In the
+marriage-contract, written or verbal, there is a clause by which the
+husband assumes the obligation of taking his wife within the year to
+such and such a festival of some town more or less remote--the farther
+away the more important to the contracting parties and their relatives.
+Where no contract is made the custom is enough, the "word"--which, as
+the proverb says, "is more than the contract"--is sufficient. In Piana
+dei Greci, an Albanian colony of Sicily, the husband obliges himself to
+take his wife a journey in honor of St. Rosalia on the 4th of September
+to the sanctuary of Monte Pellegrino in Palermo. In many of the villages
+of the _Conca d'oro_ ("the golden shell," the plain of Palermo) the
+husband binds himself to take his wife to the _festino_ of St. Rosalia
+in Palermo, the 13th-15th of July; and this is an obligation that
+involves much expense, because the statue of Charles V. in the Piazza
+Bologni (Palermo) says, according to the people, "Palermu un saccu
+tantu!"[27] The husband of Noto was accustomed, and perhaps still is, to
+take his wife to the festival of St. Venera in Avola.
+
+The wife of Monte Erice (province of Trapani) by a very old custom
+should be taken, the first time she leaves the house, on an excursion
+out of Erice--the longer the better for the reputation of her husband.
+The one who is worth anything will take her to the sanctuary of St. Vito
+lo Capo or to the festival of the Madonna of Trapani in the middle of
+August: the worthless husband will take her a short distance from Erice,
+as, for example, to the church of the Capuchins or to the neighborhood
+delle Fic�ri. Here are four proverbs which refer to these
+marriage-journeys: "The beautiful bride the first time goes to the
+Annunciation;" "Who has a fine husband goes the first time to St. Vito;"
+"Who has a mean husband goes the first time to the Capuchins;" "Who has
+a worthless husband goes the first time to the Fic�ri."
+
+Not every season is propitious for weddings. From ancient times the
+months of May and August have been deemed unlucky, and no one would
+marry during these months, mindful of the proverb, "The bride of May
+will not enjoy her marriage;" and the other, "The bride of August, the
+torrent will carry her away." Instead of these months, February, the
+Carnival, April, June and September are preferred. This last month is
+recommended in another proverb: "In September tender marriages are
+made." Likewise two days of the week are avoided for weddings--Tuesday,
+and especially Friday--it being a common saying that on Friday and
+Tuesday one should not marry or set out on a journey. Friday is a fatal
+day, on which one would believe he ran a certain danger not only in
+marrying, but also in beginning any work. On the other hand, Sunday is a
+lucky day, on which marriages always turn out according to the wishes of
+the parties.
+
+These are not all the superstitious beliefs relating to marriage, which
+extend so far as to ordain that if, for example, the bride or one of the
+company slips, or the ring falls in the house, or one of the candles on
+the altar takes fire or goes out, something unlucky is to be expected,
+as these are bad omens; that if two sisters are married the same
+evening, the younger must suffer; finally, that marriages between
+relatives always turn out badly.
+
+In addition, it must not be believed that a marriage can be made, or is
+made, with any one without due regard being had to the relations and
+spirit of the family of the bride or groom. The intimate, unwritten
+history of Sicily and the Sicilians is full of facts that show how
+between natives of this town and that, of this ward and that, and
+between the partisans of different factions, marriages cannot, and ought
+not, and will not, be made. Municipal and country contentions kept many
+parts of Sicily in such enmity that they quarrelled even about the thing
+most sacred to Sicilians--religion. It was not enough that hatred grew
+up between the natives of two different but neighboring localities: it
+was often born and perpetuated "between those whom one wall and one
+fosse shut in," and assumed considerable proportions. Thus we see as
+far back as the fifteenth century the inhabitants of a certain "fifth"
+(Palermo was divided into five wards) so hostile to those of another
+ward that the intervention of the senate was necessary in order to
+obtain from King Alfonso (in 1448) supplementary laws to obviate the
+evil.[28] In like manner the members of different confraternities are
+often unfriendly. In Modica it is a rare thing for a man devoted to St.
+George to marry a woman devoted to St. Peter. An excellent young lady of
+Syracuse, devoted to St. Philip and engaged to a distinguished young man
+of the same city who was a member of the confraternity of the Holy
+Ghost, a few days before the wedding broke her engagement because on
+visiting her betrothed, who was ill, she found hanging above his head a
+picture of the Holy Ghost, which she tore down and broke to pieces in
+anger and scorn.
+
+Men engaged on the sea do not marry into families employed on the land.
+The sailors consider themselves, and are, better and milder than other
+classes, as is shown by the criminal cases[29] and the words and phrases
+which they use (especially those of the _Kalsa_ of Palermo). Then there
+are the social differences, which are an obstacle to many marriages. We
+do not speak of the large cities, where certain prejudices are more or
+less overlooked; but in the smaller and less populous towns there are
+distinctions and sub-distinctions, so that he is fortunate who does not
+lose himself in that labyrinth. The gentleman (_galantuomo_, who is also
+called _cappeddu_ or _cavaleri_) forms the highest caste, and is above
+the master (_maestro_), who in turn must not be confounded with the
+countryman (_villano_), the lowest grade in the social scale. Among the
+countrymen of Modica a shepherd who lives on his own property is above a
+reduced _massarotto_ (who is a countryman proprietor of lands), and yet
+the _massarotto_ would refuse him for a son-in-law: the mechanic would
+not be accepted by a family of drivers, nor these by another the head of
+which is the keeper of swine or of cattle. The husbandman who can prune
+the vines is above the one who can only till the ground; the cowherd
+looks down on the one who guards the oxen; the last named scorns the
+keeper of calves; the one who keeps sheep deems himself noble in
+comparison with the one who guards goats; and so with other most minute
+distinctions. When a countryman woos a young girl of a different rank,
+he hopes to overcome the difficulties in his way by choosing a
+matchmaker from among the foremost men of his native place, but the
+matchmaker will inevitably receive the answer, "The young man is honest,
+laborious, he owns a vineyard and land, he possesses all the qualities,
+but--he is not of my rank."
+
+GIUSEPPE PITR�.
+
+
+
+
+AUNT EDITH'S FOREIGN LOVER.
+
+
+"There is a destiny which shapes our end;" and I am a firm believer in
+it, for how else can I explain my adventures and their results while
+travelling in Austria in the year of the Welt-Ausstellung at Vienna?
+
+As is usual with a novice in European travel, I received during the week
+prior to sailing the ordinary amount of advice as to what I _should_ and
+should _not_ do. Meantime, my aunt Edith, who had spent a year in Europe
+ten or twelve years before, rather surprised me by her reticence in
+regard to my proposed voyage. However, the night before I was to sail I
+suggested to her that she might be able to give me some valuable advice,
+as she had probably not "forgotten how one should behave in Paris."
+
+"Forgotten!" she exclaimed with a start, and then, raven-like, "nothing
+more." I played with the tassel of the window-curtain and wondered how I
+should ever get on without this aunt, the dearest, bravest and
+handsomest woman in all the world--to me. She was thirty-six years old,
+just ten years older than myself, for by a happy coincidence our
+birthdays fell in the same month, and upon the same day of the month,
+the twenty-fifth of August.
+
+Aunt Edith was a great comfort to the maiden sisterhood. Spinsters
+referred to Edith Mack with a sense of triumph whenever any
+disrespectful allusions were cast upon "old maids." She was always
+bright, charming and witty, and people wondered, like so many idiots,
+why she had never married, instead of wondering why most other women
+did. When questioned about it, which was rarely, she usually replied
+that she never "had the time," or that she had been "warned in dreams,"
+or that she awaited her "king from over the seas"--some such _b�tise_.
+But to me the fact that she had never married was never a matter for
+wonder: she had never loved, I supposed, which was reason enough. She
+had her work in life--had written two very delightful books, made
+occasional illustrations for publishers, and played German music _�
+ravir_. At length she spoke, this Aunt Edith.
+
+"Yes, my dear niece, I _have_ some advice to give you," she said in a
+low voice: "don't fall in love with a European."
+
+"Do you think there is any danger?" I asked with mock seriousness.
+
+"Not with a Frenchman or German," she quickly replied. "But let me tell
+you _my_ experience. I was not far from your age when I went to Europe
+with Cousin Helen. I had just refused an offer of marriage from a very
+noble fellow because I could not love him. He lacked the power to
+control me: I felt myself the stronger of the two. Not that women like
+to be ruled, but that they like that power in men which can rule if need
+be, generously, but never despotically. I had only in my imagination a
+conception of that love 'which passeth understanding'--which lifts a
+woman out of herself into a willing sacrifice that looks to calmer eyes
+as the height of folly. I liked men well, but none had ever stirred more
+than the even surface of my feelings, and I so firmly believed that no
+one ever could as to regard my 'falling in love' as most improbable. I
+really desired the experience, feeling that something is lost out of
+life if every phase of human feeling and emotion be not awakened. But I
+went to Europe, and walked straight into my fate.
+
+"The day after my arrival in Paris, in passing through the court of the
+hotel where I was stopping, I encountered a gentleman who lifted his
+hat, and who looked at me in a manner that caused me to observe his
+eyes, which were large, black and exceptionally splendid. In figure he
+was tall and firmly built, an aquiline nose and clearly-cut chin giving
+a high-bred look to his face, and he wore some sort of a decoration
+which caught Helen's notice. At the table-d'h�te that evening I found
+myself seated next to him. Our table-talk, begun early in the meal, was
+the beginning of an acquaintance that developed into that strongest of
+affections which makes slaves of us all. I never forgot my proud
+birthright, and well understood the danger of a European alliance--or
+misalliance. The gentleman was quite Oriental, belonging to that country
+which has Bucharest for its capital. His family was of high distinction,
+connected with that of the reigning prince. He possessed a modest
+fortune, had been educated in Athens and Paris, and spoke four or five
+languages. He was ardent, jealous, passionate, but possessed a heart at
+once so loving, so full of every tender and winning quality, that it was
+easy to forgive outbursts of feeling and similar offences. He had spent
+some time in England, without, however, learning to speak much of the
+language. The history of his past life, as he related it to us, was
+quite in keeping with his character as a man. He had been affianced when
+quite young to a beautiful girl, quarrelled with her, broke off the
+engagement, then joined the Greek army, fought against the Turks, and
+was four times wounded.
+
+"It was early in June when we arrived in Paris, and at the occurrence of
+my birthday in August we had become very well acquainted, as also with a
+number of his friends to whom he had introduced us. Wishing to observe
+my _f�te_, he sent me a tiny bouquet--a rose and some sprays of fragrant
+flowers. In the evening he begged for some souvenir of the day, when I
+declared I had nothing to give.
+
+"'Then I shall _take_ something,' he replied, and clipped from a curl a
+ring of my hair, which he placed in a locket attached to his watchguard,
+in the back of which he previously made a note of the day.
+
+"'That will remain there for ever,' he remarked.
+
+"'Which means six months, at the end of which time you will have
+forgotten me,' I replied.
+
+"'Not at the end of six months, six years, nor six ages,' he warmly
+retorted.
+
+"As the autumn months wore away, and he began to talk to me of marriage,
+the seriousness of his love frightened me, and it was not until I was
+assured by what seemed unmistakable proofs that all his statements in
+regard to himself were true that I in any sense considered the question
+of marriage with him. To be obliged always to talk French or Italian was
+not to my liking, and to marry anybody but a compatriot seemed very
+unpatriotic. But I loved him, and that was the solution of the whole
+matter. His kindness to us was without limit, and tendered in the most
+graceful and grateful manner. He knew some excellent English families
+who were living in Paris, whose acquaintance we afterward made, and who
+spoke of him in the highest terms of esteem.
+
+"As the winter set in, Helen and I arranged to go to Italy. My friend
+was to take advantage of our departure to go to his 'provincial estates'
+on business, and afterward to join us in Italy. He gave us a letter to
+the Greek consul at Rome, a friend of his, to whose care he would
+confide his letters, and who, he thought, might be of real service to
+us notwithstanding our own ambassadorial corps there.
+
+"My separation from him proved to me in a thousandfold manner how deep
+and strong was the bond that bound me to him. We had scarcely more than
+become well settled in Rome than a letter arrived which he had mailed at
+Vienna, and which the polite consul came and delivered in person. And
+what a letter it was!--only a page or two, but words alive with the love
+and passion of his heart. And that was the last letter, as it was the
+first, that I ever received from him. The cause of his silence none of
+us could tell. He knew that a letter sent to me in care of any one of
+the American consuls in Paris or in Italy would reach me. As the mystery
+of his silence deepened the attentions of the consul became more
+assiduous. For some reason I did not like the man, although he was very
+kind and gentlemanly. Once he lightly remarked that doubtless 'our
+friend had been _�pris_ by some fair Austrian blond;' and the suggestion
+filled me with shame. Who knew but it might be true--that the man fell
+in love with every pretty new face--for mine was called beautiful
+then--and that after an entertaining season of flirtation he had bid me
+adieu? Of course I blamed myself for having been so confiding as to be
+deceived by a handsome adventurer without principle or honor. I cannot
+tell you what agony I suffered. I begged Helen to go on to Naples, for
+Rome had become very hateful to me. But at Rome, as you know, Helen fell
+ill with Roman fever, and died, and I returned to Rome to bury her body
+there in the Protestant cemetery. Four months had gone by, and not a
+word from my friend. Alone as I was, my troubles drove me nearly
+frantic. I returned to Paris. That I was so sad and changed seemed
+naturally due to Helen's death: nobody suspected that I was the victim
+of a keener sorrow. None of his friends had received news of him. I was
+too proud to show that my interest in him had been of more than ordinary
+meaning. Nobody knew of my love for him but Helen, and the secret was
+buried in her grave.
+
+"I tarried a month or two in Paris, hoping against hope for news of him,
+without even the consolation of addressing him letters, as I did not
+know where one would reach him. To know he was dead would have been a
+relief: to think he had abandoned me, that he had been false, was
+insupportable. It was the most probable solution of the mystery, but I
+have never believed it, and I love him as deeply to-day as ever. I have
+schooled myself to cheerfulness and gayety, but having known him spoiled
+me for loving again. Here is his portrait," drawing a case from a
+drawer: "I wish you to see how handsome and good and noble a man may
+look to be, and yet--"
+
+She paused, and I added, "Be a villain."
+
+"So you see," she smiled, "how apropos my advice to you is: have nothing
+to do with foreigners."
+
+I returned her the portrait without comment, kissed her good-night, and
+next day sailed out to sea, with Aunt Edith waving her handkerchief
+after me like a flag of warning. We lived in the country, six hours'
+ride from New York, and my oldest brother and Aunt Edith had followed me
+to the "water's edge," as she playfully expressed it. At London I was to
+join Cecilia Dayton, a handsome widow of forty-five, an old friend of
+ours, who was to act the part of "chaperone." We called her "St.
+Cecilia," although she was anything but saintly.
+
+Late in the following winter we left Paris and went to Nice, where "the
+romance of a serviette" began; and I trust the reader will not question
+my truthfulness when I observe that what I am writing is, without
+exaggeration, strictly true.
+
+St. Cecilia, from nervousness brought on by drinking strong tea (as I
+firmly believe), kept a small night-lamp burning in her room at night,
+so she should not be afraid to sleep. For this purpose she used tiny
+tapers, which float on the top of oil poured in a tumbler half full of
+water. We breakfasted in our own rooms, and the breakfast napkins of the
+Grand H�tel, where we were stopping, were decidedly shabby and only
+about six inches square. On the morning of our leavetaking of Nice, St.
+Cecilia wanted a "rag" to tie over her bottle of oil, which she carried
+with her for her night-tapers, and cast her eyes about for one: she
+seized upon the raggedest of the serviettes.
+
+"I don't consider this _stealing_, ma ch�re," she murmured in apology.
+"My bill is enormous! I feel that I've paid for this rag twice over."
+
+So the serviette went with us by sea to Naples. There we were obliged
+for a time to occupy the same apartment, and the napkin taken off the
+bottle was lying about the room, for it was warm and there was no fire
+to throw it in. Tucking it away with soiled linen, it came back from the
+laundry clean and white, save one round oil-spot on it, and was thrown
+into my trunk along with the refreshed linen; and there it remained
+untouched until four months later, when I arrived at Vienna.
+
+At Venice, Cecilia was obliged to return to Paris: she was to rejoin me
+a fortnight later at Vienna. Meantime, a young Englishwoman, Kate
+Barton, whose acquaintance we had made at Rome, was going to Vienna to
+join a party of cousins; and as we were both alone, we arranged to make
+the journey together. Kate was one of the merriest of English girls (a
+native, however, of Cape Town), a tall, rosy-cheeked blond, with a half
+dozen brothers distributed in the British army and provincial
+parliaments.
+
+We left Venice at midnight in an Adriatic steamer, and arrived next
+morning at Trieste, a town which during our forced stay in it of
+forty-eight hours filled my mind with nothing but most disagreeable
+souvenirs. Life there was in complete contrast to the quiet, poetic,
+graceful existence at Venice, and the change from the one to the other
+had been so sudden as to act like a stunning blow. A detention caused by
+illness and the loss of a train through the purposed maliciousness of a
+hotel-waiter led to two results. One was our sending a telegram to the
+proprietor of the W----H�tel in Vienna to inform him of the delay, as
+rooms had been engaged for us by a gentleman who was in the habit of
+lodging in that hotel when in Vienna, and who before leaving the city
+had shown the kind thoughtfulness of sending us a letter of introduction
+to the proprietor commending us to his courtesy. The other result was to
+bring about an acquaintance with a Prussian, Herr Schwager, which
+happened in this wise: Kate, whose wrath was fully aroused at the
+troubles we encountered in Trieste, was extravagant in her denunciations
+of those "horrid Germans" after we were once fairly seated in the cars
+bound for Gratz. Neither of us spoke German with any degree of ease or
+much intelligibility, and consequently gave vent to our opinions in
+plain English. A young man of a studious, gentlemanly appearance, but of
+unmistakable Teutonic descent, sat in one corner of the compartment, and
+from his frequent smiling at our talk I concluded that he understood
+English, and made bold to ask him if he did.
+
+"Happily, I do," he replied, his handsome brown eyes twinkling with
+increased merriment, "and I am one of those 'horrid Germans.'"
+
+His reply greatly amused Miss Barton, and opened the way to a very
+animated conversation, in which we learned that he had just come from
+Italy, had been on the same steamer as ourselves coming from Venice, and
+had stopped in the same hotel and suffered the same agonies. Then we
+talked of what we liked best in Italy, and he spoke of an American
+friend, Mr. Fanton, with whom he had greatly enjoyed Rome. The fact that
+he was a friend of John Fanton, whom I had known for years, and who was
+the last to bid me good-bye in Rome, was recommendation enough for any
+stranger, and constituted us friends at once. I forgot all about Aunt
+Edith's advice to have "nothing to do with foreigners," but placed at
+once the most unlimited confidence in Herr Schwager, who from the
+beginning of our acquaintance attached himself in a most brotherly way
+to our fortunes, proving himself in every particular a rare honor to his
+sex. However gross and brusque the German character may be, I must for
+ever make an exception of our Herr, whose genuine politeness, delicacy
+of kindness, refinement and manliness I have rarely seen equalled and
+never excelled.
+
+Kate kept up her banter about the "horrid Germans," for which she had
+abundant reason in our journey from Gratz to Vienna. We had hoped to
+have a compartment to ourselves, to which end Herr Schwager had expended
+a florin; but at the last moment a portly Gratzian entered and settled
+himself by one of the windows which would command the Semmering Pass. He
+too spoke some English, and endeavored to be sociable. As we neared the
+pass he insisted upon my taking his seat the better to see the
+marvellous scenery, with which he was already familiar. I had been too
+long on the Continent not to have become suspicious of a voluntary
+sacrifice on the part of a European. It invariably means something: it
+covers an _arri�re pens�e_. He offers you a paper to read or a peach or
+a pear to eat, or buys a bouquet of flowers at a station, and if you
+accept the proffer of either he takes advantage of the obligation under
+which he has placed you and proceeds generally to smoke, remarking for
+form's sake that he "hopes it is not offensive," while you, under the
+burden of his kindness, smile a fashionable lie, and reply, "Not in the
+least." So our Gratzer withdrew to the farther end of the seat and began
+to smoke a most villainous cigar, and continued to smoke, lighting
+another when one was finished. I soon began to succumb to the poisonous
+effects of the close atmosphere, for, although we kept our windows
+open--it was the middle of June--the Gratzer with true German caution
+kept his firmly closed. But the effect upon Kate was even worse, and her
+pallid face plainly told how much she was suffering. We cast entreating
+looks upon Herr Schwager, who never smoked, but understood our annoyance
+without knowing just how to ask the Gratzer to cease. We poked our heads
+out of the window, opened cologne-bottles and indulged in various
+manifestations of disgust; but to no purpose: the Austrian smoked on.
+Finally, when he began on the fourth cigar, Kate, whose patience was
+utterly exhausted, begged me to ask him to stop. I naturally demurred,
+being under obligation to him, and replied, "You're the sicker, Kate:
+_you_ tell him."
+
+When suddenly she lifted her pale face and shouted at him, "Oh, you
+_horrid_ German! we are nearly smoked to death! For mercy's sake, stop!"
+
+"Ah, pardon!" he replied unconcernedly, taking the cigar from his mouth
+and putting it in his pocket.
+
+Herr Schwager's amusement was boundless, and our satisfaction also, as
+we had no more smoke on the road to Vienna.
+
+The landlord of the H�tel W----, to whom we were recommended, received
+us with a pleasant cordiality, and at the same time apologized because
+he could not give us the rooms engaged for us until the next day; so we
+were temporarily lodged in a large room leading from an anteroom
+designed for a servant--an arrangement which is common in Austrian
+hotels. On the following morning, as Kate was waiting half dressed in
+the anteroom for the kammer-m�dchen to bring her warm water, who should
+walk in upon her, _sans c�r�monie_, but a long, black-gowned priest! He
+stared at her, nonchalantly looked about the room, and walked out with
+never a word. She might have regarded the intrusion as a mistake if a
+like visit from the same personage had not been made at the same hour
+next morning in our own rooms, to which we were that day transferred.
+The two successive intrusions were to us inexplicable, unless, in the
+light of succeeding events, we were to regard the priest as a detective
+officer or spy. Our apartments communicated, both being reached through
+an entry, while my room, lying beyond Kate's, was only reached by
+passing also from the entry through hers.
+
+On the fourth day of our sojourn in the hotel, about nine o'clock in the
+morning, Kate tapped on the door leading into my room, and at my cry of
+"Entrez," came in. She was in a dressing-gown, her long, curling brown
+hair hanging over her shoulders and a very unusual expression on her
+face.
+
+"More priests?" I asked in explanation.
+
+"_Police!_" she exclaimed. "If we ever get out of this town alive I
+shall be thankful! I had rung as usual for water, and just as I had
+finished my bath I heard a knock at the outside door, and asking 'Wer
+ist da?' the chambermaid replied that _she_ was. I then opened the door
+a bit, and saw looking over her shoulders two strange men. My first
+thought was that they were friends of yours wishing to give you a
+surprise, and I cried out, 'Oh, you can't come in, for we are not
+dressed.' Then one of the men said in broken English, 'We shall and we
+_will_ come in;' and they forced the door in upon me, while I hastened
+to close and fasten the other, but was too late, for they followed at my
+heels. 'You are Miss W----?' the one who had already spoken said.--'No,
+I am not.'--'Then she is in the next room?'--'But you cannot go in, for
+she isn't dressed,' I said.--'You are her sister, and you come from the
+Grand H�tel,' he continued; and you've no idea with what a ferocious
+face. It was dreadful! Then he said something about the _police_--that
+we must go to the _police-court_; and finally said he would give you
+five minutes to dress in. Now, there they are, banging at the door. Oh,
+what have we done? Why _did_ we ever come into this barbarous land?" and
+poor merry Kate was on the brink of hysterics.
+
+"Oh, 'tis all a mistake," I replied, adjusting my necktie. "I will see
+the men, and the matter will be explained at once."
+
+The noise from the street coming in from my open windows had prevented
+me from hearing the conversation in Kate's room, and I should have been
+inclined to regard her startling narrative as one of her jokes if it had
+not been for the loud banging on the door. I hastened to open it: the
+men came in, and, wishing to relieve Kate of their presence, I asked
+them to pass into my room. This they refused to do, taking a decided
+stand in Kate's. I was too curious to lose my presence of mind or show
+that I was annoyed, and with my blandest smile inquired why I was
+honored with so matinal a visit from two strangers, when the following
+dialogue ensued:
+
+"We come from the police. You are Miss W----?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Englishwoman?"
+
+"By no means."
+
+"Yes you are; and this woman is your sister."
+
+"No, she is not my sister."
+
+"Yes, she is. You're English. No? What are you, then?"
+
+"I'm American."
+
+"Show your passport."
+
+"Here it is;" and I opened the document bearing the American eagle and
+the signature of Hamilton Fish.
+
+The two men put their heads together, neither being able to tell what
+sort of a paper it was, which secretly amused me. The men were in
+civilian's dress. Turning to Kate, her passport was demanded. She had
+none.
+
+"And of what nation are you?" asked the spokesman.
+
+She refused to tell.
+
+"And what is your name?"
+
+She refused to answer that. The poor girl had become so nervous under
+the ordeal, which for her had been of a very violent character, that she
+imagined nothing could be more disgraceful and humiliating than to have
+her name mixed up with a police-affair.
+
+Finding that she was inexorable, they returned to me with, "Well, miss,
+you must go with us to the police," and showed me a paper of arrest.
+
+"And why must I go to the police?"
+
+"Because you have been at the Grand H�tel."
+
+"What Grand H�tel?"
+
+"The Grand H�tel. You must go to the police."
+
+I rang the bell, and asked that the proprietor of the house come at once
+to my room. He came, and I demanded an explanation of the mystery.
+
+"You must know, mademoiselle," he began, "that in Vienna we are all in
+the power of the police: they must have the name, nationality, business
+and address of every person who comes into the city. The morning after
+your arrival these men came and asked if two English ladies were
+stopping here. I said 'Yes.' They then said they believed you were
+persons they had been trying for two weeks to catch, and that you were
+very suspicious characters who had been stopping here in the Grand
+H�tel. I told them it was not possible--that you had come direct from
+Italy; and I mentioned the telegram you had sent from Trieste, and that
+you had been recommended to my courtesy by a gentleman whom I well knew
+and who had many times lodged here. But they went away, and came back
+again next day, making some inquiries about you, and asking if numbers
+so and so were those of your rooms. You were out, and whether they
+visited your rooms or not I cannot say. This is all that I know. Now
+they are here again, and if they say you must go to the police-court,
+there will be no other way but to go."
+
+"But I don't understand. I have my passport: there is my bill, receipted
+at the hotel in Trieste six days ago. I never knew before it was a crime
+for two English-speaking women to travel alone or to stop at a Grand
+H�tel. Of what are we suspected? and upon what grounds suspected?"
+
+"Why, a napkin has been seen among your effects with the mark of the
+Grand H�tel upon it."
+
+After a moment's thought it flashed into my mind that it was that Nice
+serviette, and, more amused than annoyed, I exclaimed, "Oh, I have it.
+'Tis that serviette St. Cecilia took at Nice;" and opening my trunk soon
+had it in my hands, holding it up by two corners for the men to see and
+explaining how it came into my possession.
+
+"It will go very hard with Madame Cecilia," observed the spokesman: "you
+will please give us her address."
+
+My indiscretion at once became apparent, but I was a complete novice in
+"being arrested." To involve Cecilia in the affair would be but an
+aggravation of matters, and I at once decided, come what might, I would
+not give the police her address. Looking at the half-obliterated stamp
+in the corner of the napkin, there was unmistakably the mark "Grand
+H�tel," but directly underneath "Nice," which the police, in their ardor
+to find me guilty of something which I could not find out, had
+undoubtedly mistaken for Wien, the German name for Vienna. I called
+their attention to the "Nice," asking what jurisdiction the Austrian
+government had over matters relating to hotels in Italy. They replied by
+looking very closely at the stamp, and then one of them took my passport
+and the napkin and went out, leaving the other man to guard our
+apartment, and soon returned with a new arrest for myself and my
+_gesellschafterin_, Miss Barton still refusing to give her name. The
+landlord had only placed mine in the visitors' book, thereby making
+himself liable to a fine of eight or ten dollars.
+
+Nothing could have been more widely different than the effect produced
+upon Kate and myself. To me the whole affair was inexpressibly
+mysterious and ludicrous, notwithstanding the insolence of the police,
+and, as it seemed to me, their amazing stupidity. Poor Kate was the
+wrathfullest woman I ever saw, while her obstinate refusal to answer any
+questions about herself only increased the ferocity of the men, whose
+treatment of her was shameful in the extreme. They threatened to search
+our trunks, which aroused Kate's wrath the more. I observed that as they
+had assumed the right to unlock and search mine during my absence, they
+were probably already acquainted with its contents. They, however,
+abandoned the searching scheme, and ordered us to get ready to go to the
+police-court, which was about two minutes' walk distant. Kate declared
+that to the police-court she would not go, unless she were dragged there
+by her hair, while the men declared that she would then be taken by
+_armed force_. I concluded to telegraph to the American embassy for
+help, but that was denied me. Herr Schwager had called to see us only
+the day previous, saying his lodgings were quite in our neighborhood,
+but we had not asked his address. There seemed nothing to do but to go
+to the court and be my own lawyer. It never occurred to me that the
+landlord to whose courtesy I had been recommended would refuse to go
+with me; but when I asked him for his protection he begged to be
+excused, on the ground of being _very_ busy and that he could be of no
+service to me. I do not wish any reader to infer from this that he was
+an exceptional Viennese hotel-keeper--that is, exceptionally
+ungentlemanly: he was, on the contrary, a fair representative both of
+his trade and his countrymen. Austrian military officers and diplomatic
+attach�s of the government have won in fashionable society a reputation
+for extreme politeness and gallantry toward women; which may be true, as
+neither under such conditions costs any earnest sacrifice. But the rank
+and file of the middle class of Austrians, the class with which
+travellers have naturally most to do, are most brusque and ungracious in
+manner as well as in deed, unembellished with any hint of courtesy.
+
+I enjoyed a fling at the landlord by expressing surprise at his refusal
+to accompany me to the police-court, adding maliciously that American
+gentlemen were not famous for polished manners, but there was not one
+mean enough in the whole country to refuse his protection to a lady, a
+guest under his own roof and in a strange land, where the help of
+friends was denied her. I then appealed to Kate to go with me, as it
+would only end the trouble sooner, and that I would never allow her to
+go to such a place alone, but with tears streaming from her eyes she
+resisted my entreaties, and I followed one of the men to the court: the
+other remained behind to watch Kate.
+
+I had no more idea of a police-court than I had of the reason why I was
+being taken there. It was mystery and curiosity that sustained me. I
+undoubtedly looked like an amused interrogation-mark, for the moment I
+was introduced into the presence of the grand interrogator of that
+inquisition, upon whose desk lay my passport and "that serviette," he
+smiled and remarked in French, "It is very evident, mademoiselle, that
+you have nothing to do with this affair."
+
+"With what affair, monsieur? I haven't the faintest idea what I was
+brought here for," I responded.
+
+"Why, just this: about a fortnight ago two Englishwomen stopped at the
+Grand H�tel in this city, and left without paying their bills, carrying
+off with them all the household linen they could lay their hands on."
+
+And so we had been arrested as house-linen thieves! It was too
+humiliating. I was then interviewed as to my companion's refusal to give
+her name, etc., which argued very much against her. I explained as well
+as I could the extreme annoyance and brutal treatment to which she had
+been subjected, her horror of having anything to do with a police-court,
+and how the disgrace of being suspected of a crime was aggravated by
+intense nervous excitement brought on by the insolence of the police.
+After considerable pleading on my part in her behalf--for I felt that I
+was the sole cause of the trouble--it was agreed upon that she should be
+relieved from coming to the court upon condition that she would sign a
+paper giving her name, nationality, etc., and I was dismissed without
+the slightest apology for the trouble to which I had been subjected. At
+that point the affair ceased to be funny, and, turning back after I had
+reached the door of exit, I made a short and as effective a speech as
+the polite language of the French would allow, in which I conveyed a
+frank idea of my opinion of Austrian courtesy. I succeeded well enough
+to convince my examiner of something--probably that he had caught a
+Tartar--and I left him tugging furiously at his moustache. My official
+escort led the way back to the hotel with a very crestfallen air, savage
+and sullen.
+
+I found Miss Barton in a worse condition than ever, the persecutions of
+the guarding policeman having continued with increased ferocity. He had
+dogged every movement she made, until the poor girl had nearly gone mad;
+and it was only after long persuasion that I induced her to sign the
+paper, such a one as most travellers without passports in Austria are
+obliged to fill out. She finally wrote her name in a great scrawl which
+nobody could decipher, and gave as her country "Cape Town, Africa;"
+which again confounded the men, as they had no idea how a "Hottentot"
+could be an English subject. But they swallowed their ignorance, and
+finally went away.
+
+When Kate had become restored to her normal condition she heaped upon
+herself all sorts of self-reproaches, and paid me extravagant
+compliments for what she called "good sense" and "presence of mind." As
+she demanded redress for the insults she had suffered, and as I wished
+to know by what right an Austrian policeman privily searched the trunks
+of American women who had the misfortune to come into the Austrian
+dominions, we posted off to our respective national ambassadors. Kate
+had the satisfaction of being told that she ought to congratulate
+herself upon getting off as well as she did, since two of her
+countrywomen had been arrested, put in jail and kept there for two weeks
+upon even less grounds for suspicion. The result of our complaints was,
+that the amplest official apologies were made by the Foreign Office, the
+two policemen severely censured and degraded from rank, while, through
+the influence of Herr Schwager, who went to the president of the police,
+an officer was sent from that organization to apologize to us in person.
+But what I cared most for I never got--an acknowledgment of the right of
+the police to search baggage _� plaisir_.
+
+As might have been expected, our liking for Vienna had been thoroughly
+damped. From that moment Kate never saw an officer without fear and
+trembling, and officers were everywhere. "To think," she exclaimed,
+"that I have grown to be such a ninny! My brothers always said, 'Oh, we
+can trust Kate to go anywhere: she never gets nervous or afraid;' and
+here I am actually afraid to cross a street! I shall never have a
+moment's peace until I get out of this horrid country."
+
+At the end of a fortnight, having entirely missed her cousins, she
+joined a party of Americans going to England. St. Cecilia meantime had
+arrived, and was of course entertained by the napkin adventure. But she
+could not abide Vienna, and quickly returned to Paris. As I wished to
+"do" the Exposition and run no more risks of arrest, I decided to
+withdraw to Baden, a half hour's ride by express from the S�dbahn
+station of the Austrian capital, as the town was strongly recommended by
+Herr Schwager and several American friends residing in Vienna. Herr
+Schwager declared that with my small stock of _Deutsch sprechen_ the
+Badenites would cheat me out of my eyes, and very kindly volunteered to
+help me get installed. A history of the trials attending that
+transaction would alone "fill a volume," but I mention only one, and
+that simply because it seemed another link in the manifest chain of
+destiny.
+
+An hour after our arrangement for my accommodation for the season had
+been settled "meine Wirthin" received a letter from her son-in-law that
+he was coming, and she informed me that she would need her guest-chamber
+for him, returning to me my advanced guldens at the same time she broke
+her bargain. Nothing was to be done but to look elsewhere, and
+eventually lodgings were obtained in the Bergstrasse, in quite another
+part of the town. The locality was excellent, being very near the
+promenade and music-gardens: then I liked the face of the
+_Haus-meisterin,_ as did Herr Schwager, who wisely remarked that he
+thought kindness of heart should rank high in that "benighted land."
+
+I frequently went to Vienna, spending the day at the Exposition and
+returning to Baden in the evening. Upon one of these occasions I found
+upon my return to the S�dbahn that I had a half hour to wait for the
+train. As I was hungry, I ordered a cup of coffee in the caf�
+waiting-room. Upon putting my hand in my pocket for my portemonnaie, lo!
+I had none, not a kreutzer to my name, and my portemonnaie contained
+also my return railway-ticket! I was alone: it was seven o'clock in the
+evening. My situation was dramatic, even comic, and I laughed to myself
+and smiled upon a gentleman and two ladies who sat at the same table,
+calmly remarking that I had been robbed of my _Gelttasche_: they smiled
+in return, and nothing more. I sent a _kellner_ to bring me the master
+of the caf�, whom I informed of my loss and my inability to pay my debt
+to him. He at once led me off to a _commissaire de police_--of whom
+there are always plenty about in civilian's dress--to whom I made a
+statement of my loss, describing my lost treasure and where I thought it
+had in all probability been taken. While we were talking a very
+distinguished-looking man, perhaps forty-five years of age, with
+magnificent black eyes, passed near, evidently interested. When through
+with the police I remarked that I did not know how I was to get back to
+Baden; whereupon the master of the caf�--who, by the way, spoke English
+well--exclaimed, "Oh, as to that, I will lend you what you need."
+Hearing this, the distinguished-looking stranger came up with a salaam,
+and, begging the conventional number of _pardons_, graciously
+volunteered any service he might be able to render me. I thanked him,
+explaining to him in a few words my misfortune, but that the master of
+the caf�--who had meantime purchased a railway-ticket for me--had
+gallantly come to my rescue. At this moment the car-bell rang: I gave my
+card to the _Meister_, took down his name, and hurried away to get a
+seat in the train, the owner of the black eyes following me, helping me
+as best he could, and, "if madame had no objections, would take a seat
+near her, as he too was _en route_ for Baden." He spoke in French, with
+a pure French accent, although it was evident he was not a Frenchman. He
+evinced a desire to continue an acquaintance so oddly begun, but I was
+obliged to doom him to disappointment. My mind was occupied with the
+grave question of finance, and about how long I should be obliged to
+remain in Baden before I should receive a remittance from London. I
+remembered having seen the gentleman once or twice in the park at
+Baden, and thought him, with his splendid eyes, graying hair and
+military bearing, a man of no ordinary appearance. He had the air of a
+person looking for some one, and the expression was sad. Under ordinary
+circumstances I should have been curious to learn more of him. My
+coolness of manner, accompanied by the almost rude brevity of my replies
+to his few ventured remarks, seemed to amuse him, for he smilingly
+observed that I was a true "Anglaise."
+
+To be taken for English always aroused my honest indignation, and I
+quickly retorted, "Pardon, mais je ne suis pas Anglaise."
+
+"Vraiment! but you speak with the English accent."
+
+"Quite possible, monsieur, as English is my mother tongue, but I am a
+_vrai Am�ricaine."_
+
+"_Am�ricaine! Am�ricaine!_" he repeated eagerly. "I once knew an
+American lady, and I should prize above all things some knowledge of
+her. I hope I may have the honor--" A blast from the engine broke upon
+his speech at that juncture: we were at Baden.
+
+Hastily thanking him--for abroad one falls into the continental habit of
+thanking people "mille fois" for what they do not do, as for what they
+do do--and saying "Bon jour," I hurried off to the Bergstrasse. The next
+morning I refunded my borrowed guldens to the master of the caf� by post
+(as I had not placed my entire bank in my purse), and feeling
+conscience-smitten at having, in my direst extremity, been befriended by
+one of those "dreadful Austrians" whom I had so bitterly berated, I
+hinted my amazement, along with my thanks, at having been the recipient
+of so graceful and needed a courtesy from a Viennese. He acknowledged
+the receipt of the money, adding, "I hope you do not take me for a
+Viennese: I am a Bavarian, and have lived twelve years in England."
+
+Among the occupants of the house and dwellers in the garden where I
+lodged and lived was a young Austrian woman, two years married, with
+whom I formed a pleasant acquaintance, and whose chatty ways rapidly
+revived my knowledge of the German, in which language only she could
+express herself. I shall not soon forget her, for she told me that she
+married to please the "Eltern"--that she "had never loved," and was so
+na�ve in her mode of reasoning as to prove a source of infinite
+surprise. She had no conception of any destiny for a girl but that of
+marriage, and never tired of asking about "American girls," whom I
+described as oftentimes living and dying unmarried.
+
+"And do not the parents force them to marry? And what do they do if not
+marry? And when they get old, what becomes of them? And they are
+_doctors_ even? Did you ever see a woman-doctor?" etc., etc., and
+hundreds of similar questions.
+
+One evening, two or three days after the "robbery," we went to sit in
+the park and listen to the music. On the end of a bench where we sat
+down was a poorly-clad, miserable-looking woman, who occupied herself in
+dozing and waking. I had no money in my pocket, but I could not rid
+myself of the idea that the poor wretch was dying of hunger, and her
+sharp contrast to the hundreds of elegantly-dressed people all about her
+and constantly moving to and fro only gave more force to her isolation
+and misery. At length, perhaps more to relieve my mind than otherwise, I
+begged my _Nachbarin_ to lend me a coin, which I slipped without a word
+into the creature's hand. To the surprise of both of us, she made no
+sign of acceptance or thanks. Ten or fifteen minutes later she rose, and
+coming near us she began to stammer out her thanks and to tell us how
+poor she was--that she could not work, and that for a month she had been
+coming to the park, hoping that where there were so many rich people
+some would kindly give her a trifle; but that in all that time but one
+person had done so--a gentleman who had given her a gulden; and if we
+would look she would point him out. We looked: it was the distinguished
+stranger. I confess to have been gratified, and to feeling confident
+that if he was one of the foreigners that Aunt Edith had bade me beware
+of, he was at least a gentleman and a Christian.
+
+The last of August was nearing, and, as the heat was intense, I often
+went up a hill at the back of the park to be alone and enjoy the breezy
+atmosphere and the charming view the elevation commanded. On one of
+these occasions--it was the twenty-fifth and my birthday--I was more
+than usually absorbed in my thoughts when my attention was caught by a
+shadow passing over the declivity a little removed from where I sat, and
+looking up I recognized the giver of alms. He lifted his hat, begged
+pardon and hoped it was not an indiscretion to ask if I had recovered my
+purse; which opened the way to further conversation. The sun was fast
+setting, and the scene on earth and sky was resplendent. Leaning upon a
+rock, he contemplated the miracle in silent adoration.
+
+"Ah, that is equal to what I have so often seen in America," I remarked.
+
+After a moment he replied, "For many years no land has so much
+interested me as America, and upon no people do I look with so much
+interest. America gave me my supremest joy and my profoundest sorrow.
+Perhaps this confession may, in a measure, excuse my impolite intrusion
+upon you, as I am so thoroughly a stranger."
+
+"Yes, and a foreigner," I laughed. "I have a dear, beautiful aunt Edith
+at home who warned me against foreigners. This is my _f�te_, and as her
+birthday is the same as mine, I am naturally thinking of her just now,
+and recall her sage advice. As the sun is down, I will follow it and bid
+you good-night."
+
+As I rose to go he made no reply, as if he had been indifferent to what
+I had said. I glanced at his face: it was ashen white. He was opening a
+locket attached to his watchguard, from which he lifted a ring of dark
+hair, and then drawing it nearer his eyes he spoke as if reading a date:
+"Le vingt-cinq ao�t."
+
+The pallor of his face, joined to its outline, which was in full
+profile, held me where I stood as if spellbound. Somewhere, a long time
+ago, I had seen that face.
+
+"Yes, it is an unusual coincidence," he remarked, as if just
+comprehending what had been said. "But your aunt Edith must be much
+older than you?"
+
+"No: only ten years."
+
+"Is she married?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Nor I, monsieur. We belong to the noble army of old maids, which on the
+other side is a more honorable and obstinate sisterhood than here."
+
+He smiled faintly, and wiped his forehead with a large white
+handkerchief.
+
+"If I should go to America," he observed, "I should greatly desire to
+visit the locality where women like you live and die unmarried."
+
+"Oh, for that matter, you can't miss them," I replied laughingly:
+"they're common from Maine to California. Spinsterhood is an outgrowth
+of our Declaration of Independence--'liberty and the pursuit of
+happiness.'"
+
+"But, really, I desire to know the name of the place where you live: I
+am sure it will interest me greatly. Will you not write it for me?" And
+he offered me a blank card.
+
+"Oh, certainly, but I don't understand why."
+
+"I may possibly go and see your aunt Edith and tell her I saw you on the
+top of a mountain. Perhaps you would like to send her a message?"
+
+"Well, if you see her," I replied in the same tone, moving away, "tell
+her I haven't forgotten to beware of foreigners."
+
+"Just one more word," he entreated, following me. "Is your aunt Edith,
+Edith Mack?"
+
+"Yes, but how should you know?" and in that moment it flashed upon my
+mind like sudden daybreak. "And you are--" I stammered.
+
+"A man who has loved her many a year. To-morrow I leave Vienna for
+England, to sail for New York. I cannot say more to you now than that I
+begin to see my way through a sad, sad mystery. Here is my card.
+Adieu!"
+
+The bright glow left in the atmosphere by the brilliant sunset had quite
+died away, but it was light enough for me to read the superscription:
+"LE CHEVALIER ACHILLE ROMA."
+
+I walked back to my lodgings in a manner probably quite sane to other
+people, although the distance was compassed by myself in a condition of
+complete unconsciousness as to how. Like the phantasmagoria of fated
+events swept before my mind the train of complicated circumstances that
+had led to my finding Aunt Edith's lost lover. And the beautiful romance
+at the end had resulted from my having disregarded her warning to
+"beware of foreigners."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is not much more to tell. I left Baden at the end of the month,
+and returned to Paris. Six weeks later I had a letter from Aunt Edith
+urging me to come home for her wedding, which would take place prior to
+the holidays. The Chevalier Roma had long since become convinced that
+his "friend," the consul at Rome, was the key to the whole mischief, but
+his suspicions in that direction came too late for him to regain a clue
+to Aunt Edith. Several letters sent to her name at New York of course
+had never reached her. The surest and quickest way to accomplish his
+desire, to prove to the heart he had through so many years cherished how
+true and loyal had been his allegiance, how deep and sincere his love,
+was the one he had chosen and acted upon with such alacrity.
+
+A few weeks after my aunt's marriage I received the wedding-cards of
+Herr Schwager and Miss Kate Barton. After all, merry Kate had accepted a
+"horrid German" for her husband, and thereby the truth suddenly dawned
+upon my mind that _I_ had been the recipient of the Herr's exceeding
+kindness because I was "neighbor to the rose."
+
+MARY WAGER-FISHER.
+
+
+
+
+THE CENSUS OF 1880.
+
+
+The taking of the census of the United States is, at any time, an event
+of national interest and importance. That of the tenth census, in 1880,
+will be especially interesting, as marking the completion of the first
+century of our declared independence. We shall then ascertain, more
+fully and concisely than we have yet been able to do, exactly what
+progress has been made in one hundred years by a people left free to
+work out its own destiny, alike in form of government and in material,
+moral and intellectual development, under no check except its own
+self-imposed restraints. The record of such progress ought to be the
+most valuable contribution ever made to political, economic and social
+science. Whether it shall prove so or not depends chiefly on the manner
+in which the essential work is done. It is already time that public
+attention should be drawn to this important event, since the law under
+which the census is to be taken must, if it shall be at all adequate to
+the occasion, be passed by the present Congress.
+
+The United States is the first nation which ever implanted in its
+Constitution a provision for taking at regular periods a census of its
+people. The makers of that instrument seemed to have an intuitive sense
+of the importance of such a step, for they had no guide and borrowed
+from no precedent. It is true the fundamental law provides only for an
+enumeration of persons, but under the authority given to Congress to
+"provide for the general welfare" such laws have heretofore been passed
+as have rendered our census reports documents of inestimable value. It
+is doubtful if any people have ever taken so great pains to find out
+"how they are getting along," or have ever made so great and immediate
+use of that information. So marked is the fact that the Constitution
+requires a decennial census that a distinguished French writer on
+statistics declares, "The United States presents in its history a
+phenomenon which has no parallel. It is that of a people who instituted
+the statistics of their country on the very day when they formed their
+government, and who regulated in the same instrument the census of their
+citizens, their civil and political rights and the destinies of their
+country."
+
+To understand the progressive steps by which our census has reached its
+present magnitude and importance a brief glance is necessary at the
+successive laws under which the enumeration has been made and the manner
+in which their results have been presented.
+
+The first census was taken in 1790, under the act of March 1 of that
+year, and many of the worst features of that tentative experiment still
+remain to vex the soul of every one who desires a census which shall be
+in accord with the demands of science and the times. Then, as now, the
+United States marshals were designated to conduct the enumeration. They
+were authorized to employ as many assistants as might be needful, and
+each assistant was required, prior to making his return, to "cause a
+correct copy of the schedule, signed by himself, to be set up at two of
+the most public places within his division, there to remain for the
+inspection of all concerned." It is from this crude law that the
+mischievous custom is borrowed of having a copy of the census returns
+deposited with the county court clerk. As originally conducted, the
+system was harmless, since only the names of heads of families were
+given and only the number of persons constituting the family reported.
+The compensation was also based on the number of persons returned by the
+assistant marshals. The form of schedule was as follows:
+
+
+  ______________________________________________________________
+           |Free White |          |          |         |
+           |Males of 16|          |Free White|         |
+  Names of |years and  |Free White|Females,  |All Other|Slaves.
+  Heads of |upwards,   |Males     |including |Free     |
+  Families.|including  |under 16  |heads of  |Persons. |
+           |heads of   |years.    |families. |         |
+           |families.  |          |          |         |
+  --------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+Such and so simple were the results sought at the first census, the
+enumeration for which was to commence on the 1st of August, 1790, and to
+close within nine months thereafter, and the returns were to be made to
+the President of the United States on or before September, 1, 1791.
+These results were published in an octavo pamphlet of fifty-two pages.
+No officer of the government seems to have had any supervision of the
+work of preparing it for the press. The returns were doubtless handed by
+the President to some clerk for compilation, and communicated to
+Congress along with other routine and miscellaneous documents
+accompanying the annual message.
+
+The second census was taken under the act of February 28, 1800, and,
+like the first, was confined to an enumeration of the population under
+the care of the United States marshals, but the whole work was
+prosecuted under the direction of the Secretary of State. The number of
+facts to be returned was somewhat enlarged by further inquiries into the
+ages of the inhabitants: otherwise there was no substantial change.
+
+The act providing for the taking of the third census was passed March
+26, 1810, and was almost identical with that for the second census.
+
+A great step in advance was, however, taken in the act of May 1, 1810,
+which imposed upon the marshals and their assistants the additional duty
+of taking, under direction of the Secretary of the Treasury, Albert
+Gallatin, an account of the manufacturing establishments and
+manufactures of the several districts, at an aggregate expense not
+exceeding thirty thousand dollars.
+
+The only changes introduced into the act of March 14, 1820, for taking
+the fourth census, provided for a return of the number of males between
+sixteen and eighteen, the number of foreigners not naturalized, and the
+colored population by age and sex. The provisions for a return of
+manufactures were re-enacted, the results to be reported to the
+Secretary of State (J.Q. Adams). But these returns, like those of the
+third census, were of very slight value.
+
+In the act of March 23, 1830, for taking the fifth census, provision is
+made for ascertaining the number of blind and deaf and dumb, and the
+returns of age and sex were required with greater fulness than before.
+The time for commencing the enumeration was changed from August 1 to
+June 1, and the work was to be completed in six instead of nine months.
+The return of manufactures required by the two preceding census laws was
+omitted.
+
+The act of March 3, 1839, for the sixth census, differed very slightly
+from that for the fifth, except that returns were also required of the
+number of insane and idiotic, the number of Revolutionary pensioners,
+and of the manufacturing, agricultural and educational statistics. By an
+amendment adopted February 26, 1840, the time for completing the
+enumeration was reduced to five months from June 1, and, for the first
+time provision is made for special supervision of the work by requiring
+the appointment of a superintending clerk.
+
+Thus it appears that down to the taking of the sixth census, in 1840,
+the chief object aimed at was the enumeration of the population. No
+effort was made to arrive at, or even approach, by any thorough and
+scientific process the great facts relating to our material progress and
+prosperity, or to supervise the publication of such returns as were
+required. But the report for that year shows a great advance over any
+preceding one both in quantity and quality of information. The decade
+then closing was one of great life and movement. The States west of the
+Alleghanies were rapidly filling up with immigrants, whose arrival was
+followed by speculations hitherto unknown. Fabulous wealth was speedily
+followed by utter bankruptcy. The railroad, the steamship and the
+telegraph foreshadowed the approaching revolution in methods of commerce
+and communication. A new life was dawning.
+
+These commercial changes and social revolutions were continued with
+increasing intensity during the next decade. The great famine in Ireland
+sent us swarms of laborers. The Mexican war brought us California, and
+the discovery of gold there marked the beginning of a new era in our
+material condition. It was under the influence of these stimulating
+events that the seventh census was undertaken. To make such preparations
+that it should, to some extent, embody the spirit of the time and
+furnish us with a correct statement of our condition under the new
+impulses and burdens of the nation, an act was passed March 3, 1849,
+creating a census board, whose duty it should be to prepare, and cause
+to be printed, forms and schedules for the enumeration of the
+population, and also for collecting "such information as to mines,
+agriculture, commerce, manufactures, education and other topics as will
+exhibit a full view of the pursuits, industry, education and resources
+of the country; _provided_, the number of said inquiries, exclusive of
+enumeration, shall not exceed one hundred." On the same day the
+Department of the Interior was established, and all matters relating to
+the census were transferred to that department. The census board
+reported "an act for taking the seventh and subsequent censuses of the
+United States," which became a law May 23, 1850, and under that law the
+censuses of 1850, 1860 and 1870 were taken.
+
+However far that law was an improvement upon either of those under which
+the preceding censuses were taken, it is now wholly inadequate--so much
+so, indeed, that the superintendent of the ninth census (1870) declared,
+"It is not possible for one who has had such painful occasion as the
+present superintendent to observe the workings of the census law of 1870
+to characterize it otherwise than as clumsy, antiquated and barbarous.
+The machinery it provides is as unfit for use in the census of the
+United States in this day of advanced statistical science as the
+smooth-bore muzzle-loading 'queen's arm' of the Revolution would be for
+service against the repeating rifle of the present time." It includes
+many inquiries which are practically worthless, and excludes many
+vitally necessary to an understanding of our social and industrial
+condition. Thus the questions, "Has this season produced average crops?"
+"What crops are short?" "What are the average wages of a female domestic
+per week, without board?" "How much road-tax did you pay, and how?" may
+be of some interest, if regarded as conundrums, but are practically of
+as little value as the color of one's hair or the average number of
+hours one sleeps; while, as matters of fact, the answers to them have
+been so unsatisfactory that no attempt has ever been made to classify
+them, and in the census of 1870 they were discarded altogether, though
+still forming part of the law. Nor is the method required for
+ascertaining the facts relating to manufactures of any greater value.
+The inquiries are the same in regard to every kind of industry, whether
+the product be cloth, leather, iron or silver, and are confined solely
+to wages, kinds and quantities. No means are provided for ascertaining
+with skill and exactness the necessary details of the varied
+manufactures of the country. The schedules for agricultural returns are
+also the same for all sections--for cotton and sugar-cane in Maine, for
+maple-sugar and hops in Louisiana. These, however, are merely
+superficial defects, some of which might easily be remedied in the hands
+of a competent superintendent, as was the case with the census of 1870.
+The graver inherent defects are equally obvious, but not equally
+susceptible of remedy. Nothing short of a new law will accomplish that
+result.
+
+In the first place, the officer designated to take the census is, in
+every point of view, objectionable. That officer is the United States
+marshal, originally selected, probably, for no better reason than that,
+as there was such an officer in every State whose services could be made
+available, it was better to use him than to create a new office. But
+neither the legitimate duties of his office nor the department to which
+he belongs justify such a selection. His duties are chiefly connected
+with violations of law, and he is necessarily associated in public
+opinion with the criminal side of life. A police-officer is not a good
+census-taker. Moreover, many of the States are divided into several
+marshalships from considerations which do not at all enter into the
+taking of the census. Thus, New York has three districts, the largest of
+which contains more than two and a quarter millions of inhabitants,
+while Florida has two districts, the smaller of which, but by far the
+more important so far as the legitimate duties of the marshal are
+concerned, contains scarcely six thousand inhabitants. Massachusetts is
+a district with over a million and a third of people: so is Arizona,
+with less than ten thousand.
+
+Then the methods of payment are unfair, irrational and cumbersome. They
+bear no relation to the amount of work performed, are irregular in their
+operation, are obscure in their manner of calculation, and impose
+needless labor alike on the officer to be paid and the census office. To
+say that the square root of an area multiplied by the square root of the
+number of horses indicates the number of miles travelled in taking a
+census is as absurd as to say that the square root of the yards of cloth
+in a suit multiplied by the square root of the number of stitches taken
+to make the suit will give the length of the thread used. In its
+practical working in 1860 the result was to give to one assistant
+marshal a per diem of $1.66 and to another $31.32 for the same labor. A
+proposition which works out such a result may serve for a joke in negro
+minstrelsy: it will hardly be accepted as honest figuring by the
+recipient of the minimum pay.
+
+But the greatest objection of all is to the schedules created by the law
+of 1850. The number of inquiries is limited by that law to one hundred,
+though why that number should be selected as the limit, except at
+haphazard, is a mystery. It is purely arbitrary, and in its practical
+working is mischievous. Statistical inquiries ought to be exhaustive,
+whether the questions asked are ten or ten thousand. To limit the number
+to one hundred requires the lumping together of incongruous facts or
+the entire omission of some of prime importance. Of what real value is
+the answer to the question, "Kind of motive-power?" in relation to
+manufactures unless other details are given? Yet only such questions can
+be asked where the margin is so narrow. In the census of Massachusetts
+for 1875, 304 inquiries were made, embracing 1337 topics; and so
+satisfactorily was the work done that out of a population of 1,651,912
+only 43 persons were unaccounted for when the statistics of occupations
+were compiled; while in the United States census of 1870 the number thus
+unaccounted for exceeded 1,000,000. In Rhode Island no less than 561
+inquiries were made in the census of 1875, and the result is the most
+complete census--not merely of persons, but of every kind of manufacture
+and production--yet taken in any State. The returns of cotton, woollen
+and iron manufactures show what can and ought to be done in that
+direction for the whole nation in 1880. They answer the requirements set
+forth by the superintendent of the census of 1870 by presenting "tables
+so full of technical information as to become the handbook of
+manufacturers."
+
+By the side of the census reports for 1875 of Massachusetts and Rhode
+Island, and even of the young State of Iowa, those of the United States
+hitherto published appear like incomplete, vague and childish efforts.
+For instance, in the census of Massachusetts for 1875, in the
+agricultural statistics, 140 different items are reported, exclusive of
+10 included among "domestic products," but reckoned in the United States
+census among agricultural products. Of these 150 items, only 24 are
+reported in the United States census of 1870, although some of those
+omitted are from $1,500,000 to $5,000,000 in annual value. In the case
+of manufactures the defects are still more striking--ludicrously so but
+for the importance of the subject. By the schedules of 1850 the facts
+called for in regard to manufactures are simply these: number of
+establishments, horse-power, hands employed, capital, wages, materials,
+products. The 1 establishment which employed 3 hands and turned out
+$3000 worth of artificial eyes demanded and received exactly the same
+treatment with the 22,573 flouring- and grist-mills with their army of
+58,448 workmen and $444,985,143 of products. On this Procrustean bed all
+are stretched or shrunken--the giant industries by which men are fed,
+clothed, housed and shod, with their 1,000,000 of men and $2,000,000,000
+of products, and the pigmy occupations of making skewers,
+calcium-lights, mops, dusters, etc., employing 150 persons and
+aggregating $150,000 of products.
+
+And this leads directly to a consideration of the measures necessary to
+secure a proper census of the United States in 1880. To begin with, as
+already reiterated, a new law is imperatively demanded: no good thing
+can come of the present statute. As early as possible during this
+present Congress a committee on the tenth census should be appointed,
+which should carefully study the laws and methods of every civilized
+state and country in which a census is taken, and from these collect
+whatever is best, giving at the same time ample power to the
+superintendent in all matters of administration and appointment. Such a
+law might be as short and simple as that of Rhode Island, which is
+comprised in eight brief sections, yet is so comprehensive that under
+its provisions was compiled the most complete census yet taken in this
+country, if not in the world.
+
+The time at which the census is taken should be changed from June 1 to
+at least November 1, if not to January 1, when the labors of the year
+are ended, when the harvest has been gathered in, the books made up and
+the family naturally talk over the events of the past twelve-month.
+Then, if ever, is the time when full, frank and honest answers will be
+given, and the census-taker will be hailed rather as a friend than an
+enemy in disguise. The method adopted years ago in all other civilized
+countries, and in Massachusetts and Rhode Island in 1875, of leaving the
+blank schedules in advance at each house and manufactory, to be filled
+up carefully and thoughtfully, and to be called for on a given day,
+should also be adopted. The result of the first attempt in Massachusetts
+was that 37 per cent. of the schedules was found ready for delivery to
+the enumerator, and for the remaining 63 per cent. the labor was greatly
+diminished by the readiness of the people to answer all inquiries
+intelligently. The number who at first failed or refused to comply was
+only one hundred, and of manufacturers less than twenty; and these all
+subsequently made the necessary returns. The total answers of all kinds
+received at the census office was 13,000,000, at a cost to the State of
+one dollar for each hundred answers.
+
+Under such a law, enacted by the present Congress, and by such methods,
+the census report of 1880 would become a document to which every good
+citizen could point with pride and congratulation. We should no longer
+be mortified with such errors and shortcomings as are so frankly
+commented on in the census report of 1870. We should have not merely a
+correct enumeration of the population, with all the important facts
+connected with their domestic and social condition, but also such a
+return of the occupations, manufacturing industries, education and
+commercial operations, and all the elements which go to make up the
+material well-being of the races on this portion of the continent, as
+would mark a new departure in our national life. The absurd inanities
+which characterize so much of the report of the superintendent of the
+census of 1860, and the _doctrinaire_ theories injected into the report
+of 1850, ought never again to find expression in any public document
+bearing the official sanction of the United States.
+
+The census report of 1860, as compared with that of 1870, is as the
+Serbonian bog to a well-appointed lawn. For the first time since its
+inception the taking of the census was in 1870 placed in thoroughly
+competent hands. By inherited ability, as well as by previous training,
+General Walker possesses in an eminent degree the qualities essential to
+the fitting and successful execution of such a task. At every step he
+shows the skill and readiness of a master workman; and it will be
+fortunate for the country if he shall be selected as superintendent of
+the tenth census under a law of his own devising.
+
+As to the results to be revealed by the tenth census, it is not worth
+while to speculate. That they will be disappointing in many aspects to
+the national pride, or at least to the national vanity, there can be
+little doubt; but it is to be hoped we have outlived the period when the
+truth can make us angry. Of course there will be no such increase of
+population as marked our earlier career down to 1860, nor should we
+expect much increase in the reported wealth of the country since 1870.
+For the first time, except in the decade from 1820 to 1830, there will
+be no increase of area, unless all signs fail. Whatever the changes may
+be, they will more fully concern our social and political condition than
+in any previous decade, except perhaps the last.
+
+An early and intelligent interest in this important subject is all that
+is requisite to secure the needed reform. It is not creditable to the
+country that the census of 1870 was taken under the provisions of the
+law of 1850: it will be disgraceful should that of 1880 be subjected to
+the same fate, as it must be unless a new law is passed before the first
+of January of that year. The matter should be pressed upon the attention
+of Congress during its present session. In 1870 an admirable law was
+passed by the House of Representatives under the skilful and intelligent
+leadership of Hon. James A. Garfield, but it failed in the Senate
+because of the apathy of some and the personal pique of others. It seems
+incredible that in that dignified body so little attention was paid to
+this vast subject. Again and again its consideration was postponed
+because a sufficient attendance could not be secured to act upon the
+proposed law, which at last fell to the ground, a victim to the
+indifference and prejudice of those who ought to have acted more wisely
+in a matter that so nearly concerns the welfare and good name of a great
+nation.
+
+HENRY STONE.
+
+
+
+
+CHANG-HOW AND ANARKY.
+
+
+"Gret beezle!"
+
+A dismayed silence while Anarky, our cook--black as night, eyes set
+square in her head, that head set level on her stout black
+shoulders--walked around the Chinese youth my husband had brought home
+as an experiment in our domestic life--around the Chinese youth with his
+wiry frame and insinuating stoop of the shoulders, and a smile of
+neutral tint lying placid but wary on his buff countenance.
+
+"Lordy-mussy!" quoth Anarky. Another vehement, aggressive pause on her
+part, a silence observant and self-defensive on his. "Name o' Satan,
+Mis' Maud! what is it?"
+
+"This is to be your fellow-servant, Anarky."
+
+"Gret Beezle! Wish I may die ef I didn't think it wor a yaller rat!"
+
+"Anarky, I am ashamed of you! What should Mr. Smith want with a yellow
+rat?"
+
+"Thought he bought it at de sukus in New York, an' gif to you like he
+did dat monkey. Ef it ain't no rat, an' ain't a monkey, name o' Satan,
+what kin it be? 'Tain't a 'ooman, for all dem gret long sleeves: you
+know dat yo'se'f. An' 'tain't like no man as eber _I_ seed. What dat
+hangin' on to its head? An' what motter wid its eyes, sot crank-sided
+right 'ginst its nose, kickin' up der heels, pintin' ebry way for
+Sunday--one en' uv um ez sharp as a 'nittin'-needle, an' tudder en' ez
+roun' ez a marble?"
+
+Chang-how sent one eye skirmishing in my direction, and the other toward
+Anarky, and the same deprecatory yet wary smile rested like moonlight on
+his placid face.
+
+"That will do, Anarky," said I. "I wish you to understand that this is
+to be your fellow-servant. You will cook and wash as usual. Chang-how
+will attend in the dining-room, and do I don't know yet exactly what
+else; but I wish you to be kind to him, remembering that he is a
+stranger in a strange land. Also, I will have no further remarks on his
+personal appearance."
+
+Silenced by authority, but unmoved by my eloquence, Anarky made another
+tour of inspection--silently raised the end of Chang-how's queue,
+disgustedly let it fall, and went to the door. There she stopped and
+looked at him again. "Good Lord!" said she under her breath by way of
+parting salute.
+
+The look of mild unconcern that had rested on Chang-how's features was
+rippled by a quaint, cunning smile, and for the first time he cast a
+quick glance full at her, then stood again with folded hands, calm,
+submissive, apparently unobservant.
+
+Seeing the antagonism that was likely to exist between them, I myself
+showed Chang-how and his bundle to the room he was to occupy, and in a
+short time he emerged clad in a neat white jacket, his queue deftly
+bound around his head, ready for business.
+
+The fellow was exceedingly bright and quick, and, though he never seemed
+to be "takin' notes," nothing escaped his observation. He learned our
+ways in an incredibly short time, and when those ways did not come in
+conflict with any habit previously formed he adapted himself to them at
+once; but woe to any pet notion that interfered with Chang's
+preconceived ideas! That notion had to go to the wall. However, that has
+nothing to do here.
+
+Whether Chang-how had been "takin' notes" was a debatable point, but
+that somebody was taking everything takable on the premises soon became
+a self-evident proposition; and this was uncomfortable for more reasons
+than one. Mr. Smith and I almost quarrelled about it. He would not
+believe it to be Chang-how, and I was determined it should not be
+Anarky. Said he, "Anarky is taking advantage of the popular idea that
+the Chinese are invariably dis--"
+
+"Now, who ever heard anything like that?" I interrupted. "What does
+Anarky know about the popular idea concerning the Chinese? About as much
+as I should know if you were to talk to me about the Teutonic idiom for
+mezzo-tinted phonetics."
+
+"You have convinced me, my dear, that Chang-how is the guilty party; but
+the idea I meant to convey before you knocked me down with those big
+words was this--that Anarky, knowing what people think of the Chinese,
+indulges her dishonest yearnings, believing we shall suppose the thief
+to be Chang-how."
+
+"But I know it _isn't_ Anarky, because Anarky always had a blundering,
+awkward, above-board way of stealing that made it only _taking_ things,
+and she was always getting caught; and Chang-how always manages not to
+be found out. And I know it is Chang-how; I know it by that. It shows he
+is used to it."
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"It does! and I know it _is_ Chang-how and it _isn't_ Anarky."
+
+Then Mr. Smith laughed again, and said women were born to be lawyers.
+
+Chang-how would come to me (he was dining-room servant, you remember):
+"Evly one spoonee no come homee."
+
+"How you mean, Chang-how? Where spoonee go?"
+
+"All no light: all longee. Spoonee go 'way: I no find him."
+
+"Oh, but you must find them, Chang-how. How many go?"
+
+"Four spoonee."
+
+"But they are solid silver! You really must find them."
+
+"You tell where lookee, I go lookee."
+
+"I am sure I don't know were you are to look. And two forks were missing
+last week!"
+
+I stared reflectively at a June-bug on the window-sill. Chang-how stood
+with folded hands and drooping shoulders, a seraphic calm upon his
+features, as of one who had stood upon the burning deck when all but he
+had fled. Evidently he had done his duty. I was so impressed with this
+fact, and that the responsibility, if not the guilt, was now mine, that
+I simply said, "Go set the table then, Chang-how. Mr. Smith will have
+to tell us what to do when he comes home."
+
+Exit Chang.
+
+Enter Anarky: "Mis' Maud, how many hank'chers you sent out dis week?"
+
+"Twenty-three, I believe."
+
+"An' now I ain't got but nineteen. You see dat? How many socks for Mas'
+Jim?"
+
+"Six or seven, I suppose. Why?"
+
+"You see dat again? Ain't but fo' par lef'! Ef I don't beat him, shoze
+I'm a nigger!"
+
+"Your Mas' Jim?" I asked, smiling.
+
+"'Tain't nobody but dat yaller varmint dat's stealin' roun' de
+lot.--Lor'! Lor'! ef I jes' could cotch him!"
+
+"Anarky, while we are talking about it, I--I really wish you would
+manage a little better about the biscuit and--well, the eggs, and--and a
+good many little things of the kind. I am sure we have an abundance of
+everything, and it mortifies me exceedingly not to have it at table.
+Haven't you and Chang everything you want, and as much?"
+
+"We gits more'n 'nuff. An' what goes outen de kitchen goes correc'. Whar
+dey lands 'tween dar an' de din'-room don't nobody know but dat yaller
+dorg. I misses things cornstant--things dat I ain't took my eyes off
+'em, 'cep' ter wink; an', bless de Lord! while I wor a-winkin' de lard
+done took to its heels or de flour flewed away."
+
+The next evening, when Chang brought in supper, Anarky walked by his
+side in solemn state, empty-handed, dignified, watchful. He appeared
+totally unconscious of his escort, and I made no remark; but Mr. Smith
+sent him into the hall on an errand, and during his absence Anarky rose
+to explain: "Which you see all dem biskit, Mis' Maud?"
+
+"Yes: I am glad we are getting all right again, Anarky."
+
+"Well, I got dat many mo' in de ub'n now--jes' like I use ter hab 'fo'
+dat--" Here an appalling idea seemed to strike her. "War dat Chow-chow
+nigger?" she exclaimed, and made a dash toward the door. As she reached
+it Chang-how quietly glided in and handed Mr. Smith the paper he had
+gone for.
+
+The next moment a sound came from the kitchen--something between a howl
+and a roar--and following in its wake came Anarky. Almost inarticulate
+with rage, she shook her brawny fist in Chang-how's face. "You
+good-fur-nuthin' yaller _houn'!_" she exclaimed.
+
+Mr. Smith wheeled around on his chair and looked at her in stern
+surprise. Chang-how stood his ground and gazed at her with the unruffled
+calm of a full moon beaming o'er a raging sea.
+
+She turned to us, trembling with excitement: "Well, ef dat ain't de
+beatinest trick et ebber I seed! Think dat yaller houn' ain't stole de
+biskit outen de ub'n? An', 'fo' Gord! I didn't know he'd been out o'
+here long 'nuff for a dog to snap at a fly! Ef you ain't de
+oudaishusest--" She stopped and glared at him with the despairing,
+silent venom of one who felt herself a pauper in words, a verbal
+failure, a wretched creature who in the supreme hour of trial was
+proving herself the wrong person in the wrong place.
+
+Chang-how's hands were folded, and his eyes rested dreamily on the
+floor. Evidently, he was contentedly rolling tea-leaves in his native
+land.
+
+Suspiciously regarding the abnormal appearance of Chang-how's neat white
+jacket, I forbore to rebuke my sable favorite, but Mr. Smith, not having
+observed the little protuberances which had attracted my attention
+toward his more delicately-tinted prot�g�, said with decision, "Go to
+the kitchen, Anarky, and send in supper or bring it yourself; and make
+haste about it."
+
+Anarky turned again to Chang-how and fixed her great black eyes on him
+in silence. Then she sounded a note of solemn warning: "Lord! Lord!
+Shang-hai!" said she, "ef ebber I _does_ cotch you out an' out, ef ebber
+I _does_ git a good square holt on you, I'll t'ar you all to pieces! Yo'
+mammy won't want what'll be left uv you, 'cos' 'twon't be wuf berryin'!"
+
+"Shut upee! too much jawee," said Chang-how benignly, and dreamed again
+of his native land. But for three days nothing was missing in Anarky's
+department, and so far Chang-how escaped with unbroken bones.
+
+On the evening of the fourth day I received a letter announcing the
+coming of visitors, and it unfortunately occurred to me that Chang-how
+might assist Anarky in the laundry, thus affording her an opportunity
+for greater display in the culinary department; so I called him up: "You
+washeeman, Chang-how?"
+
+"Oh yes, I washee all light," said Chang.
+
+"You help Anarky iron to-day I give you more money."
+
+"All light! How muchee?"
+
+"One dollar."
+
+"Two dollar."
+
+"One dollar."
+
+"No washee one dollar," said Chang.
+
+"No washee at all, then."
+
+"One dollar ap."
+
+"Nor a dollar and a half: I get other washee."
+
+"Melican man no washee ap."
+
+"Oh yes. Melican woman suit me."
+
+"All light! I washee one dollar."
+
+"Very well. As soon, then, as you leave the dining-room go to the
+laundry. And, Chang, no make cook cross."
+
+"Cook too much talkee: cookee bad egg."
+
+"Well, you no make cookee cross perhaps I give you more money."
+
+"All light! How muchee?"
+
+"No matter: a quarter."
+
+"Ap."
+
+"A half, then."
+
+Going to the laundry, I said to Anarky, "Chang-how will assist you in
+the ironing to-day, so that you can get through quickly and show my
+friends some of your best cooking, Anarky. I do hope--"
+
+"What Shang-doodle know 'bout i'unin'?" asked Anarky sulkily.
+
+"Oh, he knows ever so much," said I with cheerful faith; "and I do hope
+you will try to get on nicely with him this time. You know what the
+Bible says about brothers dwelling together in unity, and all that?"
+
+"Chang-jaw ain't none o' my brudder, an' I ain't none o' his'n,"
+resisted Anarky.
+
+"Oh yes, we are all brothers; and if you will only be Chang-how's long
+enough to get through with the ironing, I will give you almost anything
+you want."
+
+"Gimme a nigger all day long," said Anarky: "I fa'rly hates a Chinee an'
+a Orrisher."
+
+"Try it to-day, though, Anarky, for my sake," said I persuasively; and
+she consented, though sulkily enough.
+
+Hearing Chang-how coming, I seated myself on the stairway leading into
+the laundry, curious to see how they would work together.
+
+Anarky pointed authoritatively to a heap of dried linen. "Sprinkle dem
+ar cloze," said she to Chang. "I'm gwine out in de yard to git what's on
+de line."
+
+While she was gone, Chang-how, as is the manner of his people, filled
+his mouth with water, and was blowing it in a fine spray over the linen
+when Anarky appeared in the doorway, a basket of clothes on her head,
+her knuckles on her hips. As she caught sight of Chang-how moistening
+the linen with water from his mouth she stopped: she staggered, her
+basket fell to the floor, and, stooping down, she threw her hands above
+her head, then brought them down again with a violent slap on her knees.
+
+"Good Lor'! come down," said she, "an' look at dat yaller houn'
+a-spittin' on Mis' Maud's cloze.--I got you now! Can't nobody blame me
+fur beatin' you 'bout _dat_."
+
+Then she flew at him, and what a scene it was! She, black, brawny, of
+immense physical power--he, lithe, sinewy, supple as a panther. It was a
+spectacle! First one, then the other, seemed to have the advantage. She
+would catch him in her powerful grasp, and, lifting him off his feet,
+swing him in the air as if about to slam him to his final resting-place,
+when by some inexplicable manoeuvre he would writhe from between her
+fingers or wriggle himself to the back of her neck and mash her nose
+flat against her breast as if bent on suffocating her or breaking her
+neck. In a moment she would reach back with both hands and pull him over
+her head very much as men doff a shirt. Likely as not, Chang came down
+with his heels in the air, and at it they would go again. Presently she
+was tripped, and fell with a violence that should have broken every bone
+in her body, but before Chang-how could pursue his advantage she had
+wheeled on her side, wound his queue halfway up her arm and had her knee
+on his breast.
+
+"Good for you, An--! I mean, aren't you ashamed of yourself? Stop! for
+Heaven's sake, stop! You might kill him."
+
+As well have spoken to the winds. And as they became more terribly in
+earnest I began to scream for help: "Stop, Anarky! (Murder! murder!)--Here,
+Chang, take the poker. (_Mu--u--u--r--_der!) Great Heaven! don't hit her
+with it! Stop, Chang-how! (Mur--_d--e--r!_ Oh, mercy! somebody
+come!)--Here, Anarky, take the pota- (Mur--_d--e--r--rr!_)--potato-masher
+and don't kill (_M--u--r_--der!)--kill him with it, unless he kills you
+first.--Oh, mercy! mercy! I don't know what else to give you all to keep
+you from killing (Murder!)--killing each other with.--Anarky, you are
+breaking his neck!--Here's a flatiron, Chang! (Murder! Fire! fire! fire!)"
+
+This brought the neighbors and the neighbors' children, and their
+neighbors and their neighbors' children, and finally a forlorn
+policeman, who marched Anarky to the magistrate's office and left Chang
+to do up his pigtail at leisure, and reflect how often he had sinned and
+gone unwhipt of justice, and now, in the hour of peace and in the act of
+duty, retribution had deliberately sought him out, and found him and
+disposed of him as afore told.
+
+It seems that Anarky went quietly enough to the magistrate, who gave her
+the choice between going to jail and depositing five dollars as security
+for her appearance next morning for examination. Not having five dollars
+to deposit, she was allowed an hour in which to seek some one who would
+go bail for her. At the end of that time she returned to the office
+panting, exhausted, wiping the perspiration from her face with her blue
+cotton apron.
+
+"Who is going bail for you?" she was asked.
+
+Calmly turning down the sleeves that had been rolled above her shining
+black elbows, she replied with contempt, "I ain't been arter no bail: I
+dun been home an' finish beatin' de lites outen dat yaller houn'. Dat
+all de bail _I_ wants! Which ef ennybody's lookin' fur him, dey kin
+fin' his pigtail, an' maybe a piece uv his head a-stickin' to it, hin'
+de chick'n-coop at Mas' Jim's. Now kyar me to jail an' lemme res'. I
+boun' he don't spit on no mo' cloze _I_ got ter han'le!"
+
+JENNIE WOODVILLE.
+
+
+
+
+THE IDYL OF THE VAUCLUSE.
+
+
+A dusky opening in a range of purpling hills; a vision of a cluster of
+small white human homes; a shining, murmuring little river spanned by a
+wooden bridge; a towering background of bald, steep rock, cleft at its
+base into a shadowy cavern,--such is the first of my memories of the
+Vaucluse. At the entrance of the little town stands a low white-walled
+building, over the door of which is a tablet inscribed thus: "On the
+site of this caf� Petrarch established his study. Here he wrote the
+lines--
+
+    O soave contrada, O puro fiume,
+    Che bagni 'l suo bel viso e gli occhi chiari."
+
+On the banks of the classic Sorgue I was offered the photographs of
+Petrarch and Laura. I took them, and there, with the sweet May sunlight
+flooding all the sod, with the fresh spring grass and buds bursting into
+life beneath my feet, with the murmur of the glad young river in my
+ears, I stood and gazed upon the faces of those lovers of five hundred
+years ago, whose love was as a spring-time idyl. For they met in the
+spring, they parted in the spring, their intercourse was like the
+mingling of young winds with woodland violets; and, dust and ashes
+though they have been for centuries, they still prefigure to our hearts
+the eternal spring-time of the world.
+
+And yet, could the picture that I held in my hand be a faithful
+reproduction of the famous portrait of Laura which was painted at the
+request of Petrarch by Simon Menimi and charmed him into verse with its
+loveliness? It represented simply the head and bust. The face was
+elongated, the cheeks hollow, the hair smoothed down below the ears. The
+long, oval, half-shut eyes wore a horrible leer, as though the owner
+were making a painful effort to close them. On the head was a stiff,
+ungainly jewelled helmet, which terminated low on the forehead in a
+triangular ornament. The long, slender throat was encircled by three
+rows of pearls. The dress was cut squarely across the neck, and was
+checkered off like a draught-board, while over one shoulder was thrown a
+small lace scarf. The whole expression of the figure was that of
+serious, earnest sobriety and saintliness, as understood by a medi�val
+painter and treated according to his conception of his art, which
+recognized no difference between a man's earthly love and his spiritual
+patron, and made them equally crude, righteous, quaint and angular.
+
+But I felt that these harsh distorted outlines had naught in common with
+Petrarch's Laura. For she had golden hair that floated loose in the
+breeze and was the prison of enchained and captive Love, and she had
+roses, red and white, upon her face, and a throat of snowy purity, and a
+smile of such rare gentleness that when she passed them by men said,
+"Sure this is an angel come from heaven!" That is the Laura who for
+centuries has beamed upon humanity--a sweet, benign, refreshing
+presence--from within her lover's sonnets. That is the Laura in whose
+reality I believe, but the Laura who lies imprisoned and disguised
+behind the grotesque mask of medi�val art I cannot, will not, recognize.
+In Petrarch's utterance I find Laura, a pure spiritual shape in mind and
+body and soul; but in her portrait I see only Laura clogged and choked
+and bound about with the trammels of early art and the weight of crude,
+untruthful detail. Thus, I believe that art at its best is but a dull,
+material, mechanical means for the translation or reproduction of
+thought and Nature, and that for the swift, living, electric flame of
+truth we must refer in all ages and climes to speech pure and
+simple--the speech of the poet.
+
+There are many who doubt that the words in which Petrarch clothed his
+love for Laura were words of sincerity and truth, and who blame his
+fatal tendency to utilize every incident and feeling connected with her.
+Unquestionably, there was a strong element of earthliness, a dilution of
+the pure essence of his affection, in much that Petrarch wrote. It could
+hardly have chanced otherwise with a man into whose life worldly
+intercourse entered so largely. There must have been times when the pure
+light of revelation was hidden from him, and he unknowingly supplied its
+place with fancies of a lower kind. His experiences as he met them one
+by one were, I doubt not, faithfully and sincerely treated, but after
+they had fallen into the past he was enabled to view them by the cold
+strong light of the intellect, and the instincts of his nature led him
+to incorporate them in verse. It has always been a concomitant of the
+poetic character, except perhaps in those lofty organizations whose
+utterances are revelations, to regard its own personality objectively
+and treat it as material for expression in speech. The very
+word-crystallization that a thought or sentiment, however full of
+inspiration, must needs undergo to make it palpable, denotes an amount
+of conscious effort which detracts in a measure from its apparent
+spontaneity. But in spite of the quaint conceits, the frequent play upon
+words, the unworthy tricks of speech, the painful sacrifice to rhyme
+which occasionally mar his verse, I believe Petrarch was sincere. If he
+was only a pretence and a sham, then all the amatory poetry that has
+been written since his time, intellectual or analytic, passionate or
+sensuous, is a pretence and a sham. Petrarch's utterance must needs have
+been founded on truth, else never could it have stood the test of five
+centuries, and never would it have assimilated itself, as it has done,
+with the poetic speech of an entire race. I know of hardly an English
+poet in whose rhymes in the matter of love, and particularly among those
+of a narrower range of thought and a lower plane of vision, one cannot
+trace in a greater or less degree the influence of Petrarch. Thus, to
+me, Petrarch remains the very king of spring-time poets. There are
+summer poets, autumn poets and winter poets, but Petrarch was none of
+these. Neither his passion nor his poetry ever ripened into summer or
+faded into autumn. He will always typify the early youth of love and
+song. I can never open his book of sonnets that I do not hear the rustle
+of young winds in green boughs, and do not catch the faint sweet odor of
+violets and primroses--the violets and primroses that grow on the banks
+of the Sorgue in the Vaucluse--the violets and primroses that Laura wore
+in her hair when Petrarch saw her kneeling in the church of Santa Chiara
+in Avignon, and loved her all at once.
+
+The bright little river Sorgue is here a rushing brook, tumbling and
+foaming over the great stones in its bed, and imprisoned between two
+green sloping banks covered with low trees and bushes and tendrils of
+creeping ivy. It finds birth, this merry, roaring brook, in a dark,
+mysterious, shadowy pool, overhung by wild fantastic masses of rock,
+which loses itself far back in a dim cavern beneath the cliffs. Black
+and motionless, sullen and inscrutable, it lies, this source of the
+river Sorgue, a very pool of Lethe, looking as though it knew it drew
+its sustenance from the deepest heart of the earth, held communication
+with the hidden powers of Nature, and was one at the core with all the
+mighty waters of the creation. What a type of the poet's own
+genius--nourished deep down under the ground in the universal soul of
+humanity, fed by the elements that centuries of solution have infused
+into the hidden springs of the intellect, one in thought with all the
+great minds that have watered the arid fields of lower human
+intelligence, profound, unsearchable as the earth itself! And yet when
+it rises to the surface of the world it becomes only a sunny, murmuring
+river, which dances along among green banks and bushes; and, being
+noticed by the careless passer-by, who cannot see the deep infinity of
+waters of which it is the symbol, and knows not even whether they exist,
+is termed "a pretty stream of thought and fancy, but one that hath no
+profundity nor seriousness."
+
+Across the river, on a hill just above its banks, a mass of tawny ruin
+fades away into the blue of the sky and the gray of the cliffs. Wild
+flowers grow all about it, dark brambles stretch their wanton arms over
+all its space, and through the clefts in its jagged surface gleam the
+shining walls of the village below and the hazy brightness of the wide
+Rhone country. The people call this bit of rare coloring the castle of
+"La Belle Laure," but we know that it was the home of a great cardinal,
+Petrarch's trusty friend and generous patron.
+
+Down in the valley among the white village walls nestles a low brown
+house surrounded by a humble, sweet-smelling space of flowers. It is a
+dainty little spot of earth, this garden, hallowed by such rare
+associations. It is more precious than rubies, this small dark house,
+for it sheltered from the outer world the body and soul of Petrarch. The
+garden is enclosed by a hedge of sweet pale Provence roses and buds. I
+remembered, as I stood there with the breath of the beautiful blossoms
+creeping up about me, how Petrarch tells that walking one bright May day
+with Laura, a friend and confidant of both approached them and gave to
+each a rose, "all fresh and culled in Paradise," and said, "Such
+another pair of lovers the sun ne'er shone upon," and left them with a
+smile; and they remained all confused and trembling. Yes, I knew
+instinctively that it was here, on this very consecrated spot, that the
+sacred meeting had taken place; that he who gave the roses was no other
+than the good cardinal of the castle; and that those roses of five
+hundred years ago were the ancestors of the roses now blooming about me,
+and plucked from this very hedge. No wonder that the perfumes of
+Paradise are enchaliced in their hearts. Few flowers can boast such high
+and haughty lineage as these, the bright posterity of those transfigured
+love-tokens of centuries past. They are glorified for ever by
+association with the highest, purest phase of human relation. They have
+reached the apotheosis of flowerhood--the highest destiny vouchsafed to
+aught that grows. They have become one with thought in immortality.
+
+In the heart of the little garden stands a laurel tree, a shoot from
+Petrarch's own sacred laurel tree. More young shoots and saplings are
+springing up about it, all issuing from the great root that lies deep
+underground--the root of five hundred years ago; and the tree
+overshadows all the garden and the little crystal brook that sparkles
+along by the side of the wall. As I gazed at the stately shape, with its
+shining black berries and its glossy dark leaves, I knew that I had
+found the keynote to much of Petrarch's music--not always that of his
+best and most inspired moods. The resemblance of the name of Laura to
+the _laurel_; the antique fable of the transformation of Daphne into a
+laurel, and its adoption by Apollo as his emblem; the old superstition
+that the laurel was shielded against thunderbolts; his desire to win the
+laurel crown as the guerdon of his pains, both amorous and poetic,--were
+chains of tradition and convention which Petrarch had not strength to
+break, pompous, meaningless hieroglyphics which he felt it his duty to
+interpret to men, hinderances and trammels to the development of his
+genius. The laurel tree of Petrarch's garden is a fair type of one
+phase of the poet's own speech, prone to derive its significance from
+extraneous sources and overloaded with borrowed metaphor. But the laurel
+receives a new meaning if we picture to ourselves Madonna Laura
+reclining in its shadow on the banks of the little river, with flowers
+scattered all about her garments and little Loves disporting in the air
+about her wreathed head. Then it becomes instinct with life and
+vitality, and we wonder why Petrarch deemed it needful to resort to the
+dead and withered husks of antique fable for what lay there at his own
+cottage-door, and waited but to be lifted from the sod--a wealth of
+poetic illustration and conceit.
+
+Since the day when I made the memory of the Vaucluse my own, I have read
+how a great festival was held there in the summer-tide in honor of
+Petrarch. I have read how they came, those intellectual debauchees, and
+rioted and revelled and wrangled and jarred, and poisoned the chaste,
+calm waters of the sacred river with the hot fumes of literary
+dissension and argument. I have read how they came, with their heads
+full of quotations and their notebooks full of impressions and hints for
+effective rhapsody--how they feasted on the silver trout of the Sorgue,
+and gathered Laura's roses to adorn their buttonholes, and stripped the
+consecrated laurel of its leaves to make garlands for their own dull
+heads, and poured forth international compliments, and glorified one
+another, and hugged themselves for delight at their fine comprehension
+of the poet, and fell on their knees before him, and immolated their
+individual hearts and souls at the shrine of his genius; and, lo! there
+was not a true appreciater of Petrarch among them all! The right
+appraiser of Petrarch has been there before and since, but he was not
+there then. The noise and the bustle and the wisdom of the multitude
+held him aloof, and he waited until a more convenient season. He comes
+by preference in the spring-time, knowing that then Nature and Petrarch
+sing in unison. He is a poet, because it takes a poet to understand a
+poet, no less than a hero a hero. He is of such simple, foolish mould
+that when he thinks there is no one near to spy him out he casts himself
+down upon the sod and kisses it with all tenderness, and caresses the
+daisies with his finger-tips, greeting them as his younger brethren; for
+there is something stirring in him which draws him nearer to earth's
+heart than other men, and he loves to dwell upon his common origin with
+flower and leaf. He does not fall down and worship Petrarch, because he
+knows that Petrarch is only one expression of the great power that lives
+behind all thought and speech--one part of the great whole that lies
+spread out before him on the river and the cliff. But he takes the old
+poet by the hand and looks straight into his eyes, and reads there what
+is written in his own heart, and says, "We twain are brethren and
+friends, sovereign and equal, for evermore."
+
+If Petrarch had lived earlier in the centuries of Christianity, he would
+have been a monk. His genius would have found expression in the
+cloister-life, for the first monks were poets and philosophers. But he
+lived at a period when that beautiful principle of asceticism was no
+longer at one with genius. The fine essence of spirituality was gone
+from it, and it had hardened into senseless form and matter; and the law
+of his own mind forbade his pledging himself irrevocably to what in one
+mood seemed highest and most precious, but what another mood might
+contradict and openly defy. He knew that, although that ascetic temper
+which took possession of his soul at times when his genius was loudest,
+most clamorous, most importunate, was the basis of all monastic
+principle, he might not imprison it, fleeting, evanescent, within the
+dungeons of vows and formalism. And to-day, no less than in Petrarch's
+time, the same spirit walks the earth, shines through the actions and
+speech of all high souls, and yet refuses to bind itself to dull
+external shows and symbols.
+
+If Petrarch had not withdrawn himself to the solitude of the Vaucluse, I
+doubt if we should know more of his passion for Laura to-day than could
+be told in a score of sonnets. For with his mind overloaded by the
+sights and sounds and honors that were heaped upon him, he never could
+have separated her from the contingent circumstances that surrounded
+their intercourse in Avignon. But there, on the banks of the Sorgue, he
+viewed her image from afar, dismissed all the attendant episodes of
+palace and revel, court and council, and beheld only the ideal--or
+rather the real--Laura in her own worth and significance. Surely, never
+was there verse through which showed so plainly the Nature under whose
+auspices it was brought forth as those songs of Petrarch. I seem to feel
+that they were written in solitude, not sublime, but pleasing, and in a
+narrow valley shut out from contemplation of aught else. And I know, as
+I leave the Vaucluse behind me, how deep a hold the memory of the loved
+fountain must needs have taken upon the poet's mind, for I too have made
+me a picture of a river, and a grotto, and a shadowy pool, and a low
+brown house, and a stately laurel tree, which will always live in my
+sense. And these things resolve themselves into one with a few scattered
+sonnets, and a shadowy gold-haired form, and a handful of sweet small
+roses, and, lo! I have made incarnate and have bound fast to me for ever
+that beautiful old-time idyl of the Vaucluse.
+
+CHARLOTTE ADAMS.
+
+
+
+
+A "TARTAR FIGHT" AT KAZAN, AND HOW IT WAS STOPPED.
+
+
+Rooshia? Why, yes, I ought to know something about Rooshia, seein' I've
+lived there, off and on, this fifteen year and more; and if a young man
+was to come to me and ax me where's the best place for a workin' man to
+git on, I'd say to him, jist as I says it to you now, "Go to Rooshia!"
+Why so? says you. Well, jist this way. You see, cotton-mills and
+mowin'-machines and steam-ploughs and sich are quite new ideas out
+there; and they haven't got the trick of workin' 'em properly, not yet;
+so that any man as _has_ got it is pretty safe to git anything he likes
+to ax in the way o' wages. Why, _I_ knowed a man once--common
+factory-hand he was when he started: couldn't read nor write, nor
+nothin'; but he had his wits about him, all the same,--well, _he_ cum
+out here 'bout ten year ago, and went to some place on the Volga, with
+some crack-jaw name or other that I can't reck'lect. First year he was
+there he got as good pay as any overseer at home; next year he was
+overseer himself; two year arter that he owned his own mill, he did; and
+now, jist t'other day I gits a letter from him to say he's goin' home
+ag'in, with money in both pockets, and a-goin' to buy a big house and a
+bit o' ground, and I don't know what all. And if _that_ ain't gittin'
+on, I should jist like to know what is!
+
+But you mustn't think, neither, as it's all jist as easy as supping
+porridge: it ain't that, nohow. I can tell yer, if you was to go into
+one o' them hot work-rooms on a roastin' day in July, with the
+thermometer anywhere you like above a hundred, you'd feel more like
+lyin' down in the shade and havin' a drink o' beer than workin' hard for
+nine or ten hours on end. They say we overseers have an easy life of it.
+I wish them as says so had jist got to try it themselves for a day or
+two. Then, ag'in, most likely there's only one road from your place to
+the nearest town, and jist when you want to send off your stuff it'll
+come on pourin' rain for ever so long, and the whole road'll be nothin'
+but plash and mash, like a dish of cabbage-soup; and there the stuff'll
+have to lie idle for weeks and weeks, and you've jist got to grin and
+bear it. And in them parts, instead of one good pelt and have done with
+it, it keeps on drip, drip, drip, for days and days in a sneaking
+half-and-half kind o' way, as if it hadn't the pluck to come out with a
+good hearty pour. The very thunder don't make a good round-mouthed peal
+like it does at home, but a nasty jabberin' row, jist as if it was
+a-tryin' to talk French. And, altogether, it is a place to try a chap's
+temper: it is, indeed.
+
+Are the native workmen good for much? says you. Well, that depends
+pretty much on how you look at it. When you've once shown 'em how to do
+a thing, they'll do it every bit as well as yourself; but they take a
+powerful deal o' showin', they do. You see, a Rooshan has his own way of
+doin' everything, and tryin' to teach him any other way is as bad as
+eating soup with a one-pronged fork. And then to see how thick some on
+'em are! Why, they may well be brave in battle, for it 'ud take a
+precious clever bullet to git through one of _their_ 'eads, it would.
+Here's one sample for yer: A friend o' mine in Mosker had got a Rooshan
+servant--one o' them reg'lar _Derevenskis_ ("villagers"), and so one day
+he sends him to the shop with two o' them twenty-kopeck pieces,[30]
+tellin' him to buy bread with one and butter with t'other. Off goes the
+chap, and never comes back ag'in; so at last his master goes to see
+what's up; and there he finds Mr. Ivan at the door of the shop, holdin'
+out the money in one hand and scratchin' his head with t'other, as if
+he'd forgot his own name, and couldn't find hisself nowhow. "Oh,
+_barin_" ("master"), says he in a voice like a fit o' chollerer,
+"whatever am I to do now? I've been and _mixed_ the two pieces, and now
+I don't know which was the one for the bread and which for the butter."
+
+As for the Tartars, _they're_ troublesome in another way. They make
+prime workmen--there's no denyin' it; and I had ought to know, seein' I
+was over a gang of 'em myself for more'n a year--but they're the
+hot-bloodedest lot as ever I saw yet, and reg'lar born imps for
+fightin'; and when _they_ git up a shindy, look out! I can speak, for I
+saw the big fight betwixt them and the Rooshans at Kazan 'bout three
+year ago; and if you cares to hear the story, I'll tell yer jist how it
+all happened.
+
+You tell me as you've been to Kazan, and so, o' course, you'll remember
+that the "Tartar Town," as they calls it, lies a mile or two east o' the
+reg'lar Rooshan quarter; and midway between 'em's a dry gully
+(leastways, it's dry in the summer-time, but you should jist see it
+arter the spring thaw!), with a little bridge over it. Now, the Rooshan
+gangs and the Tartar gangs, a-comin' from their work, used to cross each
+other jist at this bridge; and o' course there was a good deal o'
+chaffin' among 'em, and some fightin', too, now and then; for I needn't
+tell _you_ that a Rooshan and a Tartar are jist about as fond of each
+other as a Rooshan and a Turk. Now-a-days, the masters have had the
+gumption to change the hours of work, and keep 'em out of each other's
+way; but in _my_ time there was a scrimmage nearly every week, though
+nothin' like this 'un I'm tellin' of.
+
+Well, sir, I'd knocked off early that evenin', and strolled back to my
+place with a young Rooshan merchant as I knowed--a right good feller,
+name o' Michael Feodoroff. Just at the bridge we stopped to have a look
+at the sunset; and a rare sight it was! There was the dark-red tower of
+the old Tartar gateway standin' out ag'in the bright evenin' sky, and
+the citadel-wall with all its turrets and battlements, and the gilt
+cupolers o' the churches in the town, and the great green plain of the
+Volga away below us, and the broad river itself a-shinin' wherever the
+light fell on it, and the purple hills beyond tipped with gold every
+here and there, jist like them Delectable Mountains as mother used to
+read about on Sundays when I was a boy.
+
+While we were standin' lookin' at it up comes half a dozen Rooshan
+workmen, a-goin' home from their work, and four or five Tartars from
+t'other side, a-goin' home from _theirn_; and they meets jist on the
+bridge. As they crossed each other one o' the Rooshans pulls a bit o'
+sassage out of his pocket and holds it up to the foremost Tartar (a
+great ugly-lookin' bruiser with one eye), and says to him, chaffin'
+like, "Hollo, Mourad! d'ye want a bit o' grease to make yer beard grow?"
+
+Now, I needn't tell _you_ that offerin' pork to a Mussulman is like
+drinkin' Dutch William's health at an Irish fair; and the words warn't
+well out o' the Rooshan's mouth afore the Tartar had him by the throat
+and was bangin' his head ag'in' the bridge-rails as if he was drivin' a
+nail with it.
+
+Then, all in one minute, a whole crowd of 'em seemed to start up out o'
+the werry earth, and we found ourselves right in the middle of a reg'lar
+tearin' fight--tossin' arms and fierce faces whirlin' all round us; men
+strikin' and grapplin' and clawin' like fury; the broad, bearded faces
+of the Rooshans and the flat sallow mugs of the Tartars all blurred up
+together; and sich a yellin' and cursin' and screechin' a-goin' on that
+I a'most thought myself one o' them old Roman hemperors a-lookin' on at
+a wild-beast fight in the Call-and-see-'em.
+
+I was so took aback that I jist stood and stared like a fool; but
+Feodoroff had his wits about him, and dragged me into a corner where we
+could see it all without bein' swep' in. I saw d'reckly that it was more
+than a plain bout o' fisticuffs, for several of the Rooshans had got out
+their knives, and were slashin' about like one o'clock; and the Tartars,
+on their side, had begun to tear out the rails o' the palisade and to
+crack the skulls of the Rooshans with them. Just then Ivan Martchenkoff,
+one o' my best men, came tumblin' down at my feet with half a dozen
+Tartars atop of him; and as he fell he caught sight of me, and cried to
+me for help.
+
+Well, _that_ was more'n I could stand. I busted loose from Feodoroff
+(who tried to hold me), and leapt right among 'em. I cotched the
+uppermost Tartar by the scruff o' the neck, and chucked him away like a
+kitten; and the second I hit sich a dollop behind the ear as made him
+look five ways at once; but just then two o' the rips jumped upon me
+from behind, and down I went. Then Feodoroff flew in to save me, but the
+crowd closed upon him, and down _he_ went too; and I thought 'twas all
+up with us both.
+
+Jist then I heerd a rumble of wheels up the slope leadin' to the bridge,
+and then a great shout of "_Soldati! soldati!_" ("The soldiers! the
+soldiers!").
+
+Then I lay close to the ground and made myself as small as I could, for
+I knowed that if they fired into sich a crowd with cannon it 'ud just
+mow 'em down like grass. The next minute I heerd an orficer's voice
+singin' out, "Halt! front! fire!" But instead of the bang of a cannon
+there cum a hiss like fifty tea-kettles a-bilin' over, and then a great
+splash, and the crowd scattered fifty ways at once; and I found myself
+wringin' wet all in a minute. Then somebody gripped hold o' me and
+pulled me up, and there was Feodoroff, and beside him Lieutenant
+Berezinski of the garrison laughin' fit to burst. And when I looked
+round the whole place was a puddle o' water, with dozens of men rollin'
+in it like flies in treacle; and at the end of the bridge was ten or
+twelve sogers, and right in front of 'em a great steam _fire-engine_!
+Then I understood it all, and began laughin' as loud as anybody.
+
+"You've cooled their courage this time, Mr. Lieutenant," says I.
+
+"I think I have," says the lieutenant; "and that, too, without wasting a
+cartridge or killing a man. When you go home to England, Yakov
+Ivanovitch (James son of John), you can say that if you haven't stood
+fire, you've stood water, and been at the battle of Voyevoda."[31]
+
+DAVID KER.
+
+
+
+
+OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.
+
+
+THE COLORED CREOLES OF BALTIMORE.
+
+It is well known that many French families, fugitives from St. Domingo,
+took refuge in Baltimore during the last decade of the eighteenth
+century. They gracefully and gratefully accepted favors and kindness of
+various kinds, but they were too proud and self-reliant to resign
+themselves to eat the bread of charity or lead lives of indolence. Some,
+born to fortune and ancient titles, employed their talents and
+accomplishments promptly and without hesitation. Counts and marquises
+became gardeners (introducing a great variety of fruits and vegetables
+unknown before in the United States), dancing-masters, music-teachers,
+drawing-masters, architects, chemists, confectioners, cigar-makers and
+teachers of their own beautiful language. The names of many of those
+_�migr�s_ are now borne by the most estimable citizens of the community
+which first sheltered their ancestors: they are ornaments of society,
+distinguished in the professions and skilled in the arts and sciences.
+
+But it is not of this high and noble class that I desired to speak: it
+is of a more humble but not less worthy set of French people who came
+here at the same time. I allude to the colored creoles who were the born
+slaves of these ladies and gentlemen. Some shared the dangers of their
+flight from St. Domingo: others found a way, by tedious voyages, to join
+their old masters and tender their services, not as slaves, but as
+honest, humble, faithful servants. It was honorable both to master and
+slave that such cordial relations should have existed under such trying
+circumstances. Some of the creoles were good cooks, bakers,
+snuff-makers, laundry-women, etc.; and the most beautiful and touching
+part of this relation between the master and their former slaves was
+that hundreds of the latter laid the profits of their labor at the feet
+of their white friends with reverence and devotion. Many old ladies and
+gentlemen, accustomed to every attention from the best trained servants,
+were altogether incapable of helping themselves, and were dependent on
+the bounty and tender care of their former slaves. Most of the better
+class of French _�migr�s_ retained all their former habits of domestic
+life, such as taking a cup of coffee before rising in the morning and an
+eleven-o'clock _d�jeuner � la fourchette_, while those who could afford
+it had a modest _petit souper_ at nine o'clock in the evening. At the
+latter were often found the �lite of this French society. Music, dancing
+and refined conversation were indulged in for two or three hours: old
+memories and stirring events were recalled and the bonds of nationality
+and family affection were more closely knit. French only was spoken at
+these soir�es, and the elegant manners of the old school were observed
+in perfection.
+
+The most remarkable of this set was a Madame Valanbrun, the widow of a
+gentleman of large fortune and high position in St. Domingo. He died
+before the Revolution. She was only twenty-five when the massacre took
+place, beautiful, accomplished and fascinating. Her estates were
+extensive, and she lived in one of the principal cities of the island.
+At the time of the outbreak she escaped to a Baltimore vessel,
+accompanied by several of her house-servants, and saved a part of her
+fortune--plate, jewels and some gold coin. Arriving in Baltimore, she
+found several of her friends already there. With the elastic temper
+peculiar to the French, she determined to make the best of her changed
+circumstances. Having purchased a large house in a cheap part of the
+city, she fitted up her own suite of rooms on the second floor. Here she
+received company, and was attended by her servants as if she had been a
+queen. At that period snuff-taking was very fashionable and almost
+universal. Some of madame's servants were very expert in making snuff,
+cigars and cigarettes: these articles they sold at high prices, for they
+soon became well known. Others of her servants made confections, cakes,
+sweetmeats, which they carried around in baskets: some made dresses, and
+others went out as nurses. The arrangements for all these various
+employments were made by the servants themselves, but the profits were
+carefully reserved for the queen bee of the hive.
+
+For many years Madame Valanbrun was the centre of the French society of
+Baltimore. She had few acquaintances outside of this circle, but the
+most distinguished foreigners who visited the city--French, Spanish and
+Italian--and several young Americans ambitious to become better
+acquainted with the French language, were glad to have the entr�e of her
+salon.
+
+Time wore on. The Bourbons were restored to the throne, and many French
+families returned to France to seek their lost fortunes. Some were
+successful, but most of them were doomed to disappointment and continued
+poverty. Madame Valanbrun remained contented with her humble but
+comfortable lot. By degrees her corps of servants was reduced by death,
+a new race of competitors sprang up, and her income each year grew less
+and less.
+
+In 1832, when the Asiatic cholera fell upon Baltimore like an Alpine
+avalanche upon a quiet Italian village, the colored creoles suffered
+more, relatively, than any other portion of the population, probably
+because they lived in the more confined streets in the centre of the
+city. The venerable physician who furnished most of the particulars for
+this sketch said: "I was passing through a narrow and rather dirty
+street one day during the height of the cholera, when I met Dr. B----,
+who asked me whether I did not know Madame Valanbrun: if so, would I go
+with him to see her in one of the houses near? He had been there a few
+hours before, and thought she had a severe attack of cholera. We went,
+and found the venerable old lady _in articulo mortis_. She was much
+changed, and the surroundings indicated an equally great change in her
+circumstances which it was melancholy to witness. But one feature
+redeemed all that was disgusting in the picture: round the squalid bed
+five or six old negroes, men and women, knelt in deep devotion like
+fixed statues, offering up their prayers to the Throne of grace for the
+departing soul of their beloved mistress, whose life had been so
+chequered by the sunshine of pleasure and the clouds of adversity. She
+had just received the last rites of the Church. The priest had retired
+to perform similar duties elsewhere, leaving the humble but devoted
+blacks to watch the last breath of life and to close the eyes of their
+lifelong friend and mistress. I never felt more veneration at the
+deathbed of any of my own kindred, or deeper respect for mourners than I
+then felt for those faithful servants of Madame Valanbrun. The old lady
+died that evening. She devised the small remnant of her property to be
+divided among her old servants in common.
+
+"Among these colored Creoles were some remarkable women. Well do I
+remember Suzette, Fanny, Clementine, as faithful watchers at sick beds:
+many precious lives did they save by their skill, judgment and fidelity.
+They were not _eye_-servants, working for money only: they worked from
+the purest motives of benevolence, from the sentiment of Christian
+charity.
+
+"Another instance of fidelity came under my notice when I was a student
+of medicine in 1819. I boarded at a good old Frenchman's, whose few
+domestics were French creoles. One of these was the washerwoman. When
+quite young she had left St. Domingo with her old mistress, who had been
+kind to her in the days of prosperity on the island. The old lady
+managed to save a small portion of her wealth, and lived quietly with
+her former servant, now her faithful friend. Madame Curchon, as she grew
+older, required more comforts than her slender means could afford, and
+Lizette determined to take in washing. She soon obtained as much as she
+could attend to, and spent her earnings in making madame comfortable in
+her old age.
+
+"About this time appeared a fine-looking negro sailor from St. Domingo.
+He had heard that Lizette, his former sweetheart, was alone in
+Baltimore, and he came in search of her. He found her. She welcomed him
+joyously, with her affection for him unchanged. He told her he would
+marry her at once and take her back to the West Indies. Lizette
+explained to her lover that she considered herself bound in honor to her
+old mistress, though no longer her slave, adding that if he would give
+her five hundred dollars to leave with Madame Curchon her conscience
+would be free of all charge of ingratitude, and she would follow him to
+any part of the world. He said he would not pay a dollar for her, as she
+was a free woman and had worked for the old lady long enough.
+
+"This little love-story came to the knowledge of the boarders through
+our kind-hearted landlady, and they agreed to subscribe one hundred
+dollars toward the payment of the amount fixed on by Lizette: the old
+mistress knew nothing of this romance in low life. Some weeks passed:
+the man remained stubborn in his idea of right, and she in her
+conscientious sense of what was due to her dear old mistress. Lizette
+positively refused to abandon madame to an old age of poverty. Her lover
+finally returned to the West Indies without her. Whatever disappointment
+the faithful creole may have suffered, she remained true to her trust,
+and was for many years the comfort and companion of this poor old French
+lady."
+
+Another instance of creole gratitude and fidelity is worth recording. A
+lady who had enjoyed wealth and luxury at home escaped the massacre, but
+arrived in America entirely destitute. Her feeble health required
+constant care and delicate food. She was accompanied in her flight by
+her faithful servant Fanny, who devoted herself to the care and comfort
+of her former mistress. Fanny rented a small brick house containing five
+rooms--two chambers, two rooms below and a kitchen. In the upper rooms
+she made her dear old godmother as comfortable as any lady could be, and
+when her duties called her elsewhere she placed another in attendance
+there. The constant piety of this excellent creole was an edifying
+sight. Fanny still lives, but her dear friend is no more: she believes
+firmly that they will again be united, to part no more.
+
+One fact connected with these colored Creoles is worthy of mention.
+Although they have been living in this country for more than
+three-quarters of a century, they have never united themselves, as
+social beings, with any of our American negroes. They have treated them
+with kindness and politeness, helped them in poverty and visited them in
+sickness, but have never intermarried with them, never gone to their
+churches, never joined any of the various African societies so
+conspicuous on certain days of parade. Distinguished for their honesty,
+they have seldom appeared in the courts either as plaintiffs or
+defendants. Respected by all, they have never demanded social equality.
+
+Scarcely a dozen of the colored creoles who originally emigrated from
+St. Domingo are now alive, but their descendants are numerous. They form
+a very worthy part of the community in which they live. They retain many
+of the traditionary qualities of their ancestors, and among the
+shiftless, dependent and often destitute negroes around them they are
+conspicuous for their industry, integrity and morality.
+
+  E.L.D.
+
+
+GLIMPSES OF BRUSSELS.
+
+To leave Paris for Brussels is to exchange excitement for tranquillity,
+a crowd for a few, the oppressive newness and vivacity of to-day for a
+mild animation tempered with a flavor of bygone ages. Brussels has been
+called a miniature Paris. I should rather consider her as the younger
+sister of the great city--less beautiful, less decked out, less
+accomplished, less versed in the ways of the world, yet keeping a
+certain freshness and virginity of aspect that is lacking in her more
+brilliant elder.
+
+There is one thing that a foreign resident of Paris is apt to find very
+enjoyable in Brussels, and that is the absence of the eternal crowd
+that mars for many people a full enjoyment of the pleasant places of
+Paris. Her thronging millions overwhelm you on every festive day or
+joyous occasion. Any little outside show or attraction calls together in
+some restricted space the population of a small city. Thirty thousand
+people rushed to hear the Spanish students play on the guitar in the
+garden of the Tuileries. Twenty thousand go every Sunday to the Salon
+during the period that it remains open. One hundred thousand go out to
+the races on ordinary days, and twice that number attend the Grand Prix.
+Hence comes a famine of conveyances and of seats, and a plethora of
+companions that are far from being uniformly agreeable.
+
+In Brussels one has enough of human surroundings. There is no lack of
+companionship in her gardens, her galleries, her streets and her parks.
+She is not a solitude, as are some of the dead cities of Italy and
+Germany or some of the minor provincial towns in Belgium and France. The
+influence of her three hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants is very
+comfortably apparent. But where Paris pours forth her tens of thousands,
+Brussels sends out some hundreds. Hence there is always room and to
+spare. And she is well-to-do in the world, is this pretty capital of
+Belgium. She is growing and thriving, and wears every mark of an active
+and contented prosperity. New and handsome streets meet the view on
+every side. Foremost among these is the elegant Avenue Louise, named
+after the late queen of the Belgians, which leads out to the spacious
+and lovely Bois de la Cambre, a second Bois de Boulogne, omitting the
+traces of the siege. The Avenue Louise reminds me very much of South
+Broad street in Philadelphia. It forms an almost unbroken row of elegant
+private residences, extending for full two miles to the very gate of the
+Bois. The centre of the roadway is macadamized and bordered with rows of
+trees, thus forming a charming road to the Bois for the private
+carriages of the Belgian aristocracy.
+
+The royal family of Belgium appear but little in public. A series of
+family misfortunes, combined with the ill-health of the king, has
+induced them to live in comparative retirement. Of the children of the
+late king Leopold, but three survive, the present king, the Count de
+Flandres and the luckless empress Charlotte. The last, still sunk in a
+state of hopeless insanity, inhabits the Ch�teau de Tervueren. The king,
+with his wife and family, passes most of his time at the Ch�teau de
+Laeken. He is a great sufferer from a disease which has attacked one of
+his legs. The queen, an Austrian archduchess, was formerly one of the
+most beautiful princesses of Europe, but she has never regained either
+her health or her spirits since the death of her only son some years
+ago, and looks faded and careworn. On the king's death the crown will
+pass to his only brother, the Count de Flandres. This gentleman, whose
+wife, a beautiful and spirited lady, is a princess of the house of
+Hohenzollern, is as deaf as a post. He inhabits a very handsome palace
+in the heart of Brussels, and his own sleeping apartments are on the
+ground floor. One summer night the sentinel in charge was amazed to see
+a crowd gathered in front of the windows of the count's room, and
+evidently highly amused. On approaching it was discovered that the
+attendants had failed to close the outside shutters, and had drawn the
+lace curtains merely. The room was brilliantly lighted, and of course
+every part of it was distinctly visible from without. And there,
+
+    Dans le simple appareil
+    D'une beaut� qu'on vient d'arracher au sommeil,
+
+the heir to the Belgian throne was peacefully walking to and fro in a
+brown study, unconscious that the eyes of some hundreds of his future
+subjects were fixed upon his lightly-draped form. His deafness prevented
+him from hearing the noise outside the window, and rendered all warnings
+by means of sounds ineffectual. So the prince's chamberlain was aroused,
+and after some delay His Royal Highness was released from his very
+undignified position.
+
+Among the proprietors of the new buildings of Brussels is cited the
+empress Eug�nie. Whole rows of newly-erected and handsome shops were
+pointed out to me as being her property. A very strong sympathy for the
+dethroned imperial family seemed to be prevalent in Brussels, as well as
+an equally strong dislike to the Germans. I was amused to find that two
+animals in the Zoological Garden, a very cross monkey and a
+savage-looking African boar, both bore the name of Bismarck.
+
+This Zoological Garden, by the by, is unworthy of the beautiful city to
+which it belongs. It is small, shabby and ill-kept, contains very few
+animals, and has become a sort of beer-garden, with open-air concerts
+and a skating-rink for its chief attractions. A very large and beautiful
+aquarium, a vast grotto of artificial rock-work, is really worth seeing,
+but its contents are of the most commonplace kind.
+
+The picture-gallery--or Mus�e Royal, as it is called--has recently been
+rearranged, and the modern paintings that used to be on view in the ducal
+palace are now installed in a series of new and beautifully-decorated
+rooms. Thither have also been removed a number of pictures by contemporary
+Belgian painters that used to adorn the public buildings of Brussels.
+Chief among these is Gallait's noble picture of the _Abdication of Charles
+V_. This fine work, considered by some critics as the masterpiece of the
+great Belgian artist, is worthy of the pencil of Delaroche. Nor is it in
+style unlike the best productions of that master, recalling the _Death of
+Elizabeth_ by its admirable grouping and refinement of color.
+Verboeckhoven is seen here at his best, his _Flock of Sheep in a Storm_, a
+large and carefully-finished work, being replete with all the most
+striking characteristics of his genius. Madou's _Interrupted Ball_ is a
+brilliant and vivacious representation of a village festival troubled by
+the intrusion of a group of dandies of the Directory--gay Incroyables who
+chuck the country damsels under the chin, rouse their swains to jealous
+wrath and otherwise misconduct themselves. Rohbe's pictures of still life
+are perfect feasts of coloring, warm, rich and glowing as the heart of a
+crimson rose brimming with the sunshine and sweetness of a summer's day.
+
+The Mus�e itself is a noble building, and in point of arrangement and of
+decoration forms a contrast to the dreary halls of the Luxembourg. The
+gallery devoted to the old masters contains some valuable specimens of
+early Flemish art, and some extremely interesting historical portraits,
+the gem of the collection being a wonderfully fine portrait by Holbein
+of Sir Thomas More.
+
+But the most interesting point in all Brussels is the H�tel de Ville.
+That marvellous edifice, that looks as though it ought to be preserved
+in a velvet-lined case, so delicate and elaborate are its multitudinous
+sculptures, lifts the exquisite tracery of its spire against the summer
+sky, as perfect in its beauty as when Alva and Egmont and Orange passed
+beneath its shadow ages ago. No spot in Europe, save perhaps the Tower
+of London, is more haunted by historic memories than is this perfect
+marvel of architectural beauty. The centuries roll back as we stand
+beneath its shadow. There is a stain of blood upon the stones, and
+Philip of Spain rides by, and the duke of Alva comes through yonder
+doorway, and the air is full of thronging phantoms and of cries--the
+wail of the Netherlands beneath the sword of the oppressor.
+
+Around the H�tel de Ville are grouped a series of antique buildings, the
+one more exquisite than the other--the ancient halls of the corporations
+of Brussels, among which that of the brewers shows supreme by reason of
+the luxury of its carvings and the care wherewith its beauty and
+solidity have been maintained throughout the centuries. In one of the
+simplest houses of the square Victor Hugo first took refuge after the
+great catastrophe of the _coup d'�tat_. It bore the number 27. A
+tobacco-shop occupied the ground floor. The poet's parlor was furnished
+in a style of bald simplicity, with chairs and a sofa covered with black
+haircloth. But he was wont to say, pointing to the H�tel de Ville, "I
+have the most wonderful piece of carving in the world for a sideboard."
+In this modest abode he wrote _Napol�on le Petit_. Then, stirred by the
+historic memories around him, he chose the Inquisition itself for a
+subject, and planned his as yet unpublished tragedy of _Torquemada_. The
+dwelling in the Grande Place became the haunt of all the proscribed
+republicans of France. Yet Belgium gave them but a cold welcome and
+grudging hospitality. They were subjected to a series of humiliating
+formalities, chief among which was the requirement of the authorities
+that each should provide himself with a permit of residence. These
+permits were temporary and revocable, and their holders were obliged to
+go weekly to ask for their renewal at the central police-office. It is
+not surprising, therefore, that so few of the fugitives should have
+remained in Belgium. Seven thousand took refuge there after the coup
+d'�tat, but only two hundred and fifty took up their abode on Belgian
+soil. Yet Brussels remained, in some sense, the continental
+head-quarters of Victor Hugo, though never kindly or generous in her
+treatment of the great exile. In 1871, the rumor having gone abroad that
+he had offered shelter to some of the fugitive Communists, his house was
+attacked by an armed mob, and its inmates barely escaped with their
+lives.
+
+Brussels possesses among her other sights a curiosity with which she
+could very well dispense--namely, the Wiertz Gallery. It is a collection
+of horrors depicted on a colossal scale by a man whose powers of
+painting were scarcely equal to those of a respectable scene-painter. A
+series of nightmares, expressed with a sort of epileptic violence and
+without any artistic value, clothe the walls of the immense studio with
+gigantic abominations. There is neither originality of conception nor
+intelligence of execution to redeem their hideousness: their horror is
+of the simplest bugaboo kind. A man blowing his head to pieces with a
+pistol-shot; a supposed corpse coming to life in its coffin; the First
+Napoleon in the flames of hell, with a multitude of women shaking at
+him the bloody severed limbs of their sons and husbands; a child burned
+alive in its cradle; the head of a decapitated criminal, and the visions
+that filled its brain,--such are some of the ghastly imaginings of this
+diseased and uneducated nature. Compare such works as these with Dor�'s
+crudest conceptions, and the difference between the inventions of genius
+and those of a morbid intellect becomes at once apparent.
+
+  L.H.H.
+
+
+AN OFF YEAR.
+
+It is a great luxury to find ourselves and the country in the midst of
+what Marshal MacMahon might style a _quadrennate_, and to be at the
+neutral and central point from which a much-vexed people can look both
+ways for a Presidential election. The contest of two years ago is over,
+and that of two years hence not near enough to beget mentionable worry.
+This equator of partisanship, lying midway between the two polls, is a
+happy medium of repose. The trade-winds of party passion blow from both
+sides fiercely toward it, but fail to break its calm. The average
+American--even the average professional American politician--possesses
+his soul in patience. He looks forward to no revolution, and, when he
+thinks of the matter at all, is entirely certain that the night of the
+first Tuesday in November, 1880, will bring nothing more tremendous than
+the usual hubbub among the telegraph-operators, the reporters and the
+haunters of the clubs and leagues. He doubts the due abnormal succession
+of the Presidents as little as he does that of the British kings, and a
+great deal less than he does that of some of the continental monarchs,
+to say nothing of the French ruler, whose septennate happens also to be
+within about two years of its close.
+
+So pleasant it is to be at leisure to bestow attention on life, liberty
+and the pursuit of happiness, without thought of the usually engrossing
+machinery so painfully and minutely contrived for facilitating our
+advance to those ends! To forget the means and for once look at the
+object; to ignore the strife for free government, and be placidly and
+contentedly free; to shut our eyes on eternal vigilance, and realize
+that we have paid that price and have the receipt in our pockets; to
+intermit our nursing of the tree and enjoy the fruit; to feel that life
+in a republic is not necessarily and always "the fever called
+living,"--such is, for the present interval, our lot. Self-government is
+such very hard work that those engaged in it are entitled to occasional
+holidays. Nature demands it. Whether their stated Sabbath come once in
+four years or once in seven, it must come. No wonder that it is apt to
+prove too welcome and seductive, and that healthy relaxation should grow
+into harmful lethargy, Sunday into "Blue Monday." Examples of that
+result are abundant enough to warn us when we need warning. They have
+chromoed in brilliantly illuminated text, in all the languages and
+alphabets, the maxim about eternal vigilance, and hung it up over our
+council-fires and our domestic hearths. We can only venture, perhaps, to
+half close our eyes and view it sleepily as through cigar-smoke, or turn
+our backs upon it for a little while and go out into a world of other
+cares which takes no note of elections, constitutions, statutes or
+office-holding. The shorter the interval the less should our enjoyment
+of it be marred. Investigations into past elections serve only to
+interfere with it, or to assist the newspapers in interfering with it;
+and newspapers are our daily food or a part of it. Three-fourths of the
+reading-matter in the five or six thousand of them published in the
+Union are filled with politics, although the conductors of them, like
+the rest of us, are aware that politics are temporarily in eclipse. They
+can teach us nothing on that subject, and we want to learn nothing.
+Their occupation as trade-journals devoted to the art and science of
+government is gone. Other periodicals devoted to a specialty, whether
+iron, coal, calico or the Thirty-nine Articles, show judgment and
+compassion on their readers when a "slack" time comes by turning
+miscellaneous and slipping in choice literary tidbits among their
+regular "shop" items. The five thousand should do likewise. If they
+will not wholly exclude politics, they might at least sweep political
+news and disquisitions into a separate corner of the sheet--say among
+the jokes, base-ball accidents and last year's advertisements.
+
+Could our legislators and their chroniclers only convince themselves
+that they are _de trop_, that the best they can do just now is to assist
+us in cultivating a transitory oblivion of them and their deeds, and
+that, instead, they are depriving us of the refreshment of our forty
+winks, they would show a correct understanding of the situation. If they
+cannot be altogether silent, they might at least give their noise
+another pitch, and direct it into some humdrum monotone that would not
+jar upon our slumbers. Do their worst, however, they cannot take from us
+the delicious consciousness that it will be two years before another
+Presidential campaign. Panoplied in that reflection, we can stand a good
+deal.
+
+We sometimes think it must have been a vast relief to the Poles when
+partition came and the three powers for good and all put an end to their
+perpetually recurring agony of electing a king. To the masses of the
+people, who were serfs, and had no more the right of suffrage or any
+other attribute of liberty than their cattle, we have no doubt it was
+so. Only by the small minority of privileged and fussy nobles, who went
+armed to the hall of election, ready to silence effectually any
+troublesome minority-man who should undertake to defeat their choice
+with his veto, could the loss of the wonted excitement have been
+seriously felt. That it was a relief to the neighboring nations, whose
+peace was constantly compromised by the recurrence of Poland's stormy
+call for a new king, is certain enough. The change threw a few very
+worthy men out of business--the Kosciuskos, Pulaskis, Czartoriskis,
+etc.--but it did away with a much larger number who were standing
+nuisances, and it left the surplus energy of many more to seek more
+legitimate and profitable paths. Of course the fate of the Poles,
+prosperous though their country is beyond anything dreamed of in the
+days of its nominal independence, is not enviable to us. It were to be
+wished that they had been cured of the regular--or irregular--spasms of
+selecting a chief without losing their national autonomy. What we remark
+is, that the strain of that convulsion was greater than they or their
+neighbors could bear, and that all concerned, with the trifling
+exceptions named, must have breathed freer and deeper when it was put an
+end to.
+
+  E.C.B.
+
+
+CONJUGAL DISCORDS.
+
+The weaknesses and follies of woman are a theme on which men, from the
+sage to the clown, have at all times been eloquent. Her natural coquetry
+in dress, her maternal vanity, her devotion to the little elegancies of
+the home, to clean windows and fresh curtains, are inexhaustible sources
+of masculine merriment or abuse. What housekeeper ever complained of an
+aching back or of nervous irritation without being scolded by her "lord"
+for some extra work she had done in beautifying the home? Men never seem
+to learn that women, as a rule, cannot find life endurable in the
+atmosphere of dust and disorder which characterizes bachelor
+housekeeping, and which seldom disturbs the equanimity of the masculine
+mind in the least. Men and women are so different in their tastes and
+ways that there must always be discord and unhappiness in the household
+until the sexes give over trying to change or remodel those tastes and
+ways, and learn to respect them. Men must accept as inevitable the fact
+that women to be happy must have artistic, or at least dainty and cozy,
+environments; and women must learn to preserve their souls in quiet when
+men spill their tobacco and ashes over the carpets and tables, for
+probably no man ever lived who could fill a pipe, even from a wash-tub,
+without scattering the tobacco over the premises.
+
+That the sexes will give over trying to reform each other does not seem
+likely to happen very soon. Indeed, one might be pardoned for believing
+that matrimony is specially adapted to develop all the imperfections
+and meannesses of human character, and that even of those matches that
+are made in heaven the devil arranges all the subsequent conditions.
+There is hardly a pure and innocent delight that unmarried women enjoy
+which they can carry into that blissful world bounded by the
+marriage-ring. One of those delights is that of squandering a little
+money, which is merely the equivalent of man's spending it as he likes,
+without accounting to any one. Few wives can do this and not be
+subjected to the humiliation of hearing the husband say, "My dear, are
+you not a little extravagant? Is all that money gone that I gave you
+last week?"
+
+Men and women seem incapacitated, in the very nature of things, from
+understanding each other. While mutually enamored they meet as upon a
+bridge--a Bridge of Sighs perhaps: break this, and they are for ever
+separated as by an impassable gulf. Leaving aside entirely the enamored
+state, do men as a rule seek the society of women and prefer it to that
+of men? The thriving clubs, the billiard- and drinking-saloons, and the
+other resorts of men common all over the civilized world, seem very like
+a negative answer to the question. In savage life we know that the sexes
+do not hunt or fish or do any work together. In our modern drawing-rooms
+most men confess themselves "bored." They long to get away to their
+clubs or some other resort of their fellows. When husbands spend their
+evenings at home, if no one happens to call it is not common for them to
+enter into long and exhilarating conversations with their wives. To be
+sure, wives are too often ignorant of the subjects that interest
+intelligent men; still, not more ignorant than before marriage, when the
+one bridge upon which they could meet was unbroken. _Then_ conversation
+never flagged: it was ever new and entrancing. Both talked pure
+nonsense, while having the art of "kissing full sense into empty words."
+On the other hand, it is, I think, quite a defensible proposition,
+despite the inferences to the contrary drawn from the failure of the
+Women's Hotel, that women enjoy conversation with women more than with
+men when there is no possible question of gallantry or flirtation; and,
+finally, that the recognition of the fact that men and women are not by
+nature in sympathetic accord, but only attracted through the law of
+compensation or opposites, will do more than all other things combined
+to make them study each other's natures and to respect sexual biases and
+characteristics, the motive for that study being, of course, the
+consummation of the ideal marriage, where man and woman set themselves
+together "like perfect music unto noble words."
+
+  M.H.
+
+
+A RUSSIAN GENERAL IN CENTRAL ASIA.
+
+Afternoon in Tashkent, the burning sun of Central Asia glaring upon the
+dusty streets and countless mud-hovels of the great city; files of
+camels gliding past with their long, noiseless stride, led by gaunt
+brown men in blue robes and white turbans; a deep archway in a high wall
+of baked earth, above which appear the trees of a spacious garden, and
+just within the entrance two tall, wiry, black-eyed Cossacks, in flat
+forage-caps, soiled cotton jackets and red goatskin trousers, leaning
+indolently on their long Berdan rifles.
+
+At my approach, however, the two sentinels start up briskly enough--as
+well they may, for they are guarding one whom every man in Bokhara would
+give his best horse for a fair chance of murdering. My announcement that
+I am expected by the governor-general is received with evident suspicion
+and a crossing of bayonets to bar my way; but, happily, a passing
+aide-de-camp recognizes me and promptly leads me in.
+
+The clustering trees, through which the sunshine filters in a rich,
+subdued light suggestive of some great cathedral, are deliciously cool
+and shady after the blinding glare outside; but there is life enough in
+the scene, nevertheless. White-frocked soldiers are hurrying to and fro;
+laced jackets, shining epaulettes, clinking spurs and sabres meet us at
+every turn; and in the centre of all, under a huge spreading tree
+planted years before any Russian had set foot in Turkestan, sits a
+towering form whose vast proportions and bold swarthy face seem to dwarf
+every other figure in the group. Twelve years ago, General Kolpakovski
+was a private soldier in the Russian army: to-day he is the commander of
+thirty thousand men and absolute master of a territory as large as the
+States of New York and Pennsylvania together.
+
+"Fine fellow, isn't he?" says my conductor, looking admiringly at the
+stalwart form of his chief. "Did you ever hear of his ride across the
+steppes from here to Kouldja? He started with twelve Tartars, and you
+know what horsemen _they_ are. Well, three of them broke down the first
+day, five more the second, and all the rest on the third; and the
+general got in by himself. Ever since then the Tartars have called him
+'The Chief with the Iron Skin;' and the soldiers go about singing,
+
+    Kolpakovski molodetz--
+    Fsadnik Tatarski--glupetz!
+
+("Kolpakovski's a fine fellow: the Tartar horseman is a fool.")
+
+"Well done!"
+
+"Ay, and he did a better thing still two years ago. He was crossing the
+mountains with a Cossack squadron in the heat of summer. Presently up
+comes one fellow: 'Your Excellency, my horse is lame.'--'Go back,
+then.'--Another man, seeing that, thought he'd get off the same way; so
+_he_ calls out, 'My horse is lame, Your Excellency.'--'Get off and lead
+him, then,' says Kolpakovski; and the unfortunate fellow had to tramp up
+hill all day, and tow his horse after him into the bargain, with the
+thermometer ninety-five in the shade."
+
+But just at this moment my name is called, and I go up to the general's
+chair, to receive a cordial handshake, a few words of frank, manly
+kindness, and the passport which is to carry me northward across the
+steppes as far as the border of Siberia.
+
+  D.K.
+
+
+
+
+LITERATURE OF THE DAY.
+
+
+Memoir of William Francis Bartlett. By Francis Winthrop Palfrey. Boston:
+Houghton, Osgood & Co.
+
+The Story of my Life. By the late Colonel Meadows Taylor. Edited by his
+Daughter. With a Preface by Henry Reeve. London: William Blackwood &
+Sons.
+
+We put these two books together, not on account of any similarity in the
+scenes and events, the characters and careers, depicted in them, but
+because each in its way brings under a strong light the qualities on
+which nations rely in seasons of peril and emergency, but of which in
+ordinary times there is only a consciousness as of a latent source of
+strength, the sound and enduring pith beneath many accretions of
+questionable fibre and tenacity. General Bartlett may very well stand
+for a type of the "heroes" produced by our civil war--men who, neither
+bred to the profession of arms nor inspired by military or political
+ambition, quitting their homes and chosen vocations at the call of their
+country or their State, devoted themselves heart and soul to the duties
+and demands of the hour, distinguished themselves not more by their
+bravery than by their strict attention to discipline, and in seasons of
+discouragement and defeat, of bad generalship or defective organization,
+gave to the respective armies that "staying power," so rare in a citizen
+soldiery, which prolonged the contest until it ended in the sheer
+exhaustion of the weaker party. Conspicuous examples of this class were
+sent forth, perhaps, by every State, and within its borders were often
+regarded with a fonder admiration than the great commanders on whom a
+larger responsibility and more complex duties brought a more anxious and
+less partial scrutiny. Massachusetts, in particular, which could boast
+of no eminent professional soldier and whose "political generals"
+carried off the palm of a disastrous incapacity, turned with especial
+pride to those of her sons who in the camp and in the field were
+recognized as models of zeal, fidelity and gallantry. Of this
+number--and it was not small--Bartlett, though one of the youngest, was
+the most distinguished. He showed from the first equal coolness and
+daring in battle, as well as the special faculty of a minute
+disciplinarian. The regiments which he trained and led were among those
+that headed victorious charges and stemmed the torrent of defeat,
+besides presenting a faultless appearance on parade and resisting
+temptations to plunder. He himself was repeatedly disabled by severe
+wounds, and, being captured before Petersburg, passed many of the last
+months of the war in confinement, suffering from a disease which
+permanently injured his system and shortened his life. Yet he survived
+most of the comrades whose careers had opened with a like promise, and
+down to his death, in 1876, was full of enterprise and activity as a
+private citizen, bearing a spotless reputation, and displaying qualities
+which, it seems to have been generally believed, would have found their
+fittest field in some high public position. The story of his life is
+well and modestly told by his friend Colonel Palfrey, and may be
+specially commended to readers capable of being stirred and stimulated
+by memories and examples which have certainly not been dimmed by the
+greater lustre of those of a more recent date.
+
+It would be unfair to expect in such a narrative the rich and varied
+interest that belongs to the autobiography of Meadows Taylor, whose
+career was as eventful and exciting as that of any hero of romance, and
+who has told it with a vividness and graphic power which few writers of
+romance have equalled. "He was one of the last of those," remarks Mr.
+Reeve, "who went out to India as simple adventurers." His boyhood and
+youth were full of precocious adventure and achievement. At the age of
+sixteen he obtained a commission in the military contingent of the
+Nizam. At seventeen he was employed as interpreter on courts-martial,
+and at eighteen was appointed "assistant police superintendent" of a
+district comprising a population of a million of souls. The duties of
+this post "involved not only direct authority over the ordinary
+relations of society, but the active pursuit of bands of Dacoits, Thugs
+and robbers," and occasional military expeditions to reduce some lawless
+chief to obedience. But the most remarkable and laborious years of his
+life were those during which he filled the office of "political agent"
+at Shorapoor, administering the affairs of that principality and holding
+the guardianship of the young rajah during a long minority, while cut
+off from intercourse with Europeans and exposed to continual plottings
+and intrigues of native functionaries and court favorites. The skill,
+tact and courage with which he executed the delicate and complicated
+functions of this anomalous position, and encountered its difficulties
+and perils, make themselves felt and appreciated in all the details of
+the narrative, while the picture presented of Eastern character and
+manners is one which only the most intimate knowledge, combined with
+rare faculties of delineation, could furnish, and differs in many
+features from any other to be found in European descriptions of life in
+India. "Meadows Taylor was never, properly speaking, in the civil
+service of the East India Company or the Crown, nor did he hold any
+military appointment in the British Indian army. He was throughout life
+an officer of the Nizam. He never even visited Calcutta or Bengal." He
+was thus thrown out of the main line of advancement, and never attained
+the rank or emoluments that fell to the share of many less gifted
+contemporaries. Hence the peculiarly adventurous character of his career
+and the novelty of the scenes which he depicts. Hence, too, perhaps, the
+width of his attainments, the enlightened spirit he displayed in his
+intercourse with the natives, and his cultivation of his literary powers
+as the main resource of his leisure while isolated from the society of
+his own race. His start in life belonged to a period long antecedent to
+the days of competitive examinations, but his assiduity and desire for
+knowledge needed no stimulant and were the keys to his early success.
+"His perfect acquaintance with the languages of Southern India--Teloogoo
+and Mahratta, as well as Hindoostanee--was," we are told, "the
+foundation of his extraordinary influence over the natives of the
+country and of his insight into their motives and character." He taught
+himself land-surveying and engineering, and constructed roads, tanks and
+buildings. He studied geology, botany and antiquities, and applied the
+knowledge thus obtained to practical purposes. He gained an acquaintance
+with the principles of law, Hindoo, Mohammedan and English, that he
+might devise codes and rules of procedure for a country where there were
+no courts or legislation, and where he had to administer justice
+according to his own lights. In the midst of his thousand avocations he
+found time to write a series of novels portraying the manners and
+superstitions of India, and depicting the various epochs of its history,
+with a fidelity and liveliness that have gained for these works a wide
+popularity. Yet perhaps the strongest impression made by this record of
+his life comes from the evidence it affords of his humane and
+conciliatory spirit in his dealings with the native Indians of every
+class, his unselfish devotion to their welfare, his habit of treating
+them as equals and his power of inspiring them with confidence, with the
+result of enabling him to preserve a large and important district from
+participation in the Mutiny, without the aid of troops and against the
+constant pressure and appeals of surrounding populations all in full
+revolt. His autobiography has already gone through several editions in
+England, and we cannot but regret that it has not been republished in
+America, where the interest in the country and events to which it
+relates is of course far less general and intense, but where, we may
+hope, the appreciation of heroic energy and noble achievements is not
+less common. The book is not to be confounded with the class to which
+the lives of governor-generals and military commanders in India belong.
+Arrian complained that the expedition of the Ten Thousand was far more
+famous in his day than the exploits of Alexander; and this narrative of
+what must be considered an episode of the British rule in India is
+likely to hold the attention of most readers more closely than many
+volumes that recount the grander events of that wonderful history.
+
+
+Walks in London. By Augustus J.C. Hare, author of "Walks in Rome," etc.
+New York: George Routledge & Sons.
+
+Not many visitors to London would be likely to take all or half the
+walks described in Mr. Hare's two thick volumes, even if the word
+_walks_ should be so interpreted as to include commoner modes of transit
+between distant points of interest and through interminable
+thoroughfares. In Rome or Venice the tourist may be expected to follow
+religiously the prescriptions of his guide-book: he is there for that
+purpose, he has no other means of employing his time, and he would be
+ashamed to report that he had omitted to see or do anything that Jones
+or Smith had seen and done. But a few rapid excursions in a hansom cab
+will enable him to visit all the "sights" that are _de rigueur_ in
+London--Westminster Abbey and Hall and the Houses of Parliament; the
+Museum, the Zoological and the National Gallery; St. Paul's, Guildhall
+and the Bank and Exchange; the Monument, the Tower and the
+Tunnel,--after which he may devote himself without scruple to an endless
+round of social amusements, or to "the proper study of mankind" with all
+varieties and countless specimens of the genus collected for his
+inspection. It is only the zealous investigator, primed with the
+associations of English literature from Chaucer to Dickens, who will be
+apt to put himself under Mr. Hare's guidance, and to explore patiently
+the widely-separated districts in which lie scattered and almost hidden
+the relics that attest the identity of London through the ages of growth
+and change that have transformed it from the "Hill Fortress" of Lud or
+the Colonia Augusta of the Romans into the commercial metropolis of the
+world, with a population, circumference and aggregate of wealth
+exceeding those of most of the other European capitals combined. Yet one
+who undertakes this labor with the due amount of knowledge and
+enthusiasm may be sure of finding his reward in it. Though London is the
+supreme embodiment of modern life, with its ceaseless absorption and
+accumulation, it is none the less imbued with a conservative spirit
+which has saved it from the wholesale demolitions and ruthless
+remodellings to which Paris has been subjected. Mr. Hare speaks with
+just indignation of the destruction of Northumberland House at Charing
+Cross, but this has so far been an exceptional instance, though it is
+perhaps an ominous one. The traveller may still step aside from the busy
+Strand into the silent and beautiful Temple Church with its tombs of
+Crusaders, pause as he leaves his banker's in Bishopsgate to take a
+survey of Crosby Hall and Sir Paul Pindar's house with their reminders
+of the financial magnates of a bygone time beautifying their homes in
+the City as visible proclamations of their prosperity, and find, as he
+wanders through Aldgate and Bevis Marks, Wych street, Holborn and
+Lincoln's Inn, Southwark and Lambeth, hundreds of quaint fronts or
+picturesque memorials linked with names and events, epochs and usages,
+that have been familiar to his mind from childhood. But many such
+scenes and objects will escape notice or fail of due appreciation unless
+an informant be at hand qualified to proffer the needed suggestions
+without indulging in wearisome garrulity. Mr. Hare seems to us to meet
+very well the requirements of this office, his book being a happy medium
+between the concise though comprehensive, and for ordinary purposes
+indispensable, manual of Baedeker and the voluminous works of Timbs and
+Cunningham.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Books Received._
+
+Putnam's Art Hand-books. Edited by Susan N. Carter, Principal of the
+"Women's Art-School, Cooper Union." "Landscape Painting" and "Sketching
+from Nature." New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.
+
+Current Discussion: A Collection from the Chief English Essays on
+Questions of the Times. By Edward L. Burlingame. Second volume:
+Questions of Belief. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.
+
+Economic Monographs: France and the United States; Suffrage in Cities;
+Our Revenue System and the Civil Service--shall they be Reformed? New
+York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.
+
+Off on a Comet: A Journey through Planetary Space. From the French of
+Jules Verne, by Edward Roth. Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen &
+Haffelfinger.
+
+A Year Worth Living: A Story of a Place and of a People one cannot
+afford Not to Know. By William M. Baker. Boston: Lee & Shepard.
+
+The Voyages and Adventures of Vasco da Gama. By George M. Towle. Boston:
+Lee & Shepard.
+
+The Fall of Damascus: An Historical Novel. By Charles Wells Russell.
+Boston: Lee & Shepard.
+
+Adventures of a Consul Abroad. By Samuel Sampleton, Esq. Boston: Lee &
+Shepard.
+
+The Future State (Christian Union Extras). New York: Christian Union
+Print.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_New Music Received._
+
+The Broken Ring, and The Young Recruit: Part-songs for Male Voices.
+Composed and arranged by A.H. Rosewig. (Lotus Club Collection.)
+Philadelphia: W.H. Boner & Co.
+
+Strew Sweet Flowers o'er my Grave: Song and Chorus. Words and Music by
+M.C. Vandercook. Arranged by D.H. Straight. Philadelphia: W.H. Boner &
+Co.
+
+Monthly Journal of Music and General Miscellany. Philadelphia: W.H.
+Boner & Co.
+
+Latest and Best Lancers. By Frank Green. Philadelphia: W.H. Boner & Co.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1807.
+
+[2] Fuller's _Worthies_.
+
+[3] _Churches of Bristol._
+
+[4] Taylor's _Book about Bristol_.
+
+[5] _The Churchgoer._
+
+[6] The documents are given in full in the appendix of Dr. J.J.
+Chaponni�re's memoir in vol. iv. of the _M�m. de la Soc. Arch�ol. de
+Gen�ve_. The former is signed by Bonivard, apostolic prothonotary and
+_poet-laureate_.
+
+[7] The story is told by Bonivard himself in his _Chronicles_, and may be
+found in full detail in the Second Series of Dr. Merle d'Aubign�'s volumes
+on the Reformation, vol. i. chaps. viii. and x. The story that Pecolat,
+about to be submitted a second time to the torture, and fearing lest he
+might be again tempted to accuse his friends, attempted to cut off his own
+tongue with a razor, seems to be authenticated. The whole story is worthy
+of being told at full length in English, it is so full of generous
+heroism.
+
+[8] "Je n'ai vu ni lu oncques un si grand m�priseur de mort," says
+Bonivard in his _Chronicles_.
+
+[9] The text of this act is given by Chaponni�re, p. 156.
+
+[10] We have the history of one of them in a brief of Pope Clement VII.
+addressed to the chapter and senate of Geneva, in which he expresses his
+sorrow that in a city which he has carried in his bowels so long such
+high-handed doings should be allowed. One Francis Bonivard has not only
+despoiled the rightful prior of his living, but--what is worse--has chased
+his attorney with a gun and shot the horse that he was running away upon:
+"_quodque pejus est, Franciscum Tingum ejusdem electi procuratorem,
+negocium restitucionis dicte possessionis prosequentem, scloppettis
+invasisse, et equum super quo fugiebat vulnerasse_." His Holiness
+threatens spiritual vengeance, and explains his zeal in the case by the
+fact that the excluded prior is his cousin.
+
+[11] _Advis et Devis des difformes Reformateurz_, pp. 149-151.
+
+[12] It is needful to caution enthusiastic tourists that nearly all the
+details of Byron's poem are fabulous. The two brothers, the martyred
+father, the anguish of the prisoner, were all invented by the poet on that
+rainy day in the tavern at Ouchy. Even the level of the dungeon, below the
+water of the lake, turns out to be a mistake, although Bonivard believed
+it: the floor of the crypt is eight feet above high-water mark. As for the
+thoughts of the prisoner, they seem to have been mainly occupied with
+making Latin and French verses of an objectionable sort not adapted for
+general publication. (See Ls. Vulliemin: _Chillon, �tude historique_,
+Lausanne, 1851.)
+
+[13] This touching tribute of conjugal affection is all the more honorable
+to Bonivard from the fact that this wife, like the others, had provoked
+him. Only a few months before he had been compelled to appear before the
+consistory to answer for treating her in a public place with profane and
+abusive language, applying to her some French term which is expressed in
+the record only by abbreviations.
+
+[14] Avolio: _Canti Popolari di Noto._
+
+[15] Guastella: _Canti Popolari del Circondario di Modica._
+
+[16] D'Ancona: _Venti Canti Pop. Siciliani_, No. 5.
+
+[17] An "ounce" equals twelve francs seventy-five centimes.
+
+[18] Auria: _Miscellaneo_, MS. _segnato_ 92, A. 28, Bib. Com. Palermo.
+
+[19] Pitr�: _Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti Pop. Sicil.,_ No. cxlviii.
+
+[20] Piaggia: _Illustrazione di Milazzo_, p. 249.
+
+[21] These gifts are called _spinagghi_ and _cubba�ta_.
+
+[22] Alessi: _Notizie della Sicilia_, No. 164, MS. QqH. 44, of the Bib.
+Com. of Palermo.
+
+[23] Traina (_Vocab. Sicil._) defines _macad�ru_ as nuptial-bed, and cites
+Pasqualino, who derives the word from the Arabic _chadar_, which signifies
+"bed," "couch."
+
+[24] So called, according to Traina (_Vocab. Sicil._), because of the
+frequent occurrence of the notes _fa, sol, la_.
+
+[25] Buonfiglio e Costanzo: _Messin�, Citt� Nob�lissima_.
+
+[26] Pitr�: _Studj di Poesia Pop.,_ p. 21.
+
+[27] This may be translated, "Palermo needs a long purse." See Pitr�:
+_Fiabe, Novelle, etc.,_ No. cclxviii.
+
+[28] Dante: _Div. Com.,_ _Purg.,_ vi. 84.
+
+[29] See the _Giornale di Sicilia_, An. xv., No. 84.
+
+[30] 20 kopecks = 6-1/2 d., or 1/5 of a rouble.
+
+[31] This play upon _voda_ ("water") and _voyevod_ ("a general") has no
+equivalent in English. Perhaps the best rendering would be "the battle of
+_Water_loo."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular
+Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ***
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+***** This file should be named 19032-8.txt or 19032-8.zip *****
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878.
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature
+and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878., 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: Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: August 12, 2006 [EBook #19032]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine D. and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class='bbox'><p class='center'>Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents and the list of illustrations were added by the transcriber.</p></div>
+
+
+<h1><span class="smcap">Lippincott's Magazine</span></h1>
+
+<div class='padding'><h3>OF</h3></div>
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><i>POPULAR LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.</i></h2>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<h4>VOLUME XXII.<br />
+JULY, 1878.</h4>
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<p class='center"'>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by <span class="smcap">J.B.
+Lippincott</span> &amp; Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at
+Washington.</p>
+</div>
+
+<h4>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h4>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'><a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>HERE AND THERE IN OLD BRISTOL. <a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>AN ATELIER DES DAMES. <a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>"AUF DEM HEIMWEG." <a href="#Page_29">29</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>THROUGH WINDING WAYS.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER I. <a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER II. <a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER III. <a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>THE WASHER AT THE WELL: A BRETON LEGEND. <a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>THE REAL PRISONER OF CHILLON: A GENTLEMAN GROSSLY MISREPRESENTED. <a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>"FOR PERCIVAL."</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXXI. <a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXXII. <a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXXIII. <a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XXXIV. <a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>A LEVANTINE PICNIC. <a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>A BIRD STORY. <a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>THE MOCKING-BIRD. <a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>POPULAR MARRIAGE CUSTOMS OF SICILY. <a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>AUNT EDITH'S FOREIGN LOVER. <a href="#Page_96">96</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>THE CENSUS OF 1880. <a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>CHANG-HOW AND ANARKY. <a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>THE IDYL OF THE VAUCLUSE. <a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>A "TARTAR FIGHT" AT KAZAN, AND HOW IT WAS STOPPED. <a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>THE COLORED CREOLES OF BALTIMORE. <a href="#Page_125">125</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>GLIMPSES OF BRUSSELS. <a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>AN OFF YEAR. <a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CONJUGAL DISCORDS. <a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>A RUSSIAN GENERAL IN CENTRAL ASIA. <a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'>LITERATURE OF THE DAY. <a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Books received <a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>New Music Received <a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='3'><a href="#FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<div class='padding'><hr style="width: 65%;" /></div>
+
+<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<p>
+<a href="#GRAVE_OF_HANNAH_MORE_AT_WRINGTON_NEAR_BRISTOL">GRAVE OF HANNAH MORE AT WRINGTON, NEAR BRISTOL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHATTERTON_AS_DOORKEEPER_IN_COLSTON39S_SCHOOL">CHATTERTON AS DOORKEEPER IN COLSTON'S SCHOOL.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHATTERTON_CENOTAPH">CHATTERTON CENOTAPH.</a><br />
+<a href="#STEEP_STREET_NOW_PULLED_DOWN">STEEP STREET, NOW PULLED DOWN.</a><br />
+<a href="#quotTIMES_AND_MIRRORquot_PRINTING-OFFICE_NOW_PULLED_DOWN">"TIMES AND MIRROR" PRINTING-OFFICE, NOW PULLED DOWN.</a><br />
+<a href="#MUNIMENT-ROOM_ST_MARY_REDCLIFF">MUNIMENT-ROOM, ST. MARY REDCLIFF.</a><br />
+<a href="#ADMIRAL_PENN39S_MONUMENT_IN_ST_MARY_REDCLIFF">ADMIRAL PENN'S MONUMENT IN ST. MARY REDCLIFF.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_CATHEDRAL">THE CATHEDRAL</a><br />
+<a href="#BARLEY_WOOD_HANNAH_MORE39S_RESIDENCE">BARLEY WOOD, HANNAH MORE'S RESIDENCE.</a><br />
+<a href="#WINE_STREET_THE_BIRTHPLACE_OF_ROBERT_SOUTHEY">WINE STREET, THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT SOUTHEY.</a><br />
+<a href="#SUSPENSION_BRIDGE_AT_CLIFTON">SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT CLIFTON.</a><br />
+<a href="#TABLEAU_VIVANT">TABLEAU VIVANT.</a><br />
+<a href="#quotJE_VIEN_ME_PROPOSER_COMME_MODEgraveLE_MESDAMESquot">"JE VIEN ME PROPOSER COMME MOD�LE, MESDAMES."</a><br />
+<a href="#quotTHE_BEST_CHRIST_IN_PARISquot">"THE BEST CHRIST IN PARIS."</a><br />
+<a href="#AN_AMIABLE_MADONNA">AN AMIABLE MADONNA!</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_MORNING_LESSON">THE MORNING LESSON.</a><br />
+<a href="#quotHE39S_GONE_GIRLSquot">"HE'S GONE, GIRLS!"</a><br />
+<a href="#quotH-E-A-VENLY_CHEESE_FOR_A_FRANC_A_POUNDquot">"H-E-A-VENLY CHEESE FOR A FRANC A POUND?"</a><br />
+<a href="#quotJE_SUIS_Agrave_VOUSquot">"JE SUIS � VOUS."</a><br />
+<a href="#SATURDAY_EVE">SATURDAY EVE.</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_CASTLE_OF_CHILLON">THE CASTLE OF CHILLON.</a><br />
+<a href="#FRANCOIS_BONIVARD_THE_PRISONER_OF_CHILLON">FRAN�OIS BONIVARD, "THE PRISONER OF CHILLON."</a><br />
+<a href="#THE_DUNGEON_OF_BONIVARD">THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD.</a><br />
+<a href="#LOTTIE">WHY NOT LOTTIE?</a><br />
+<a href="#quotDO_YOU_WANT_TO_SEE_WHAT_I_HAVE_SAIDquot">"DO YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT I HAVE SAID?"</a><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>HERE AND THERE IN OLD BRISTOL.</h2>
+
+
+<p><a name="GRAVE_OF_HANNAH_MORE_AT_WRINGTON_NEAR_BRISTOL" id="GRAVE_OF_HANNAH_MORE_AT_WRINGTON_NEAR_BRISTOL"></a></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 329px;">
+<a href="images/img5.jpg"><img src="images/img5th.jpg" width="329" height="400" alt="GRAVE OF HANNAH MORE AT WRINGTON, NEAR BRISTOL." title="GRAVE OF HANNAH MORE AT WRINGTON, NEAR BRISTOL." /></a>
+<span class="caption">GRAVE OF HANNAH MORE AT WRINGTON, NEAR BRISTOL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The streets of Bristol are, in a modern point of view, narrow and
+uninviting, yet if the visitor have a liking for the picturesque he will
+find much to interest him. There are plenty of streets crammed with
+old-time houses, thrusting out their upper stories beyond the lower, and
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>with their many-gabled roofs seeming to heave and rock against the sky.
+If they lack anything in interest, it is that no local Scott has arisen
+to throw over them a glamour of romance which might make more tolerable
+the odors wherein they vie with the Canongate of sweet memory.</p>
+
+<p><a name="CHATTERTON_AS_DOORKEEPER_IN_COLSTON39S_SCHOOL" id="CHATTERTON_AS_DOORKEEPER_IN_COLSTON39S_SCHOOL"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 358px;">
+<a href="images/img6.jpg"><img src="images/img6th.jpg" width="358" height="400" alt="CHATTERTON AS DOORKEEPER IN COLSTON&#39;S SCHOOL." title="CHATTERTON AS DOORKEEPER IN COLSTON&#39;S SCHOOL." /></a>
+<span class="caption">CHATTERTON AS DOORKEEPER IN COLSTON&#39;S SCHOOL.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Nor is the throng which fills the Bristol streets wholly prosaic in its
+aspect, for the quaint garb of ancient charities holds its own against
+the modern tailor. Such troops of charity-children taking their solemn
+walks! Such long lines of boys in corduroy, such streams of girls in pug
+bonnets, stuff gowns and white aprons, as pour forth from the schools
+and almshouses to be found in every quarter of the city! The Colston
+boys are less frequently seen, because the school has been removed to
+one of the suburbs, yet now and then one of their odd figures meets the
+eye. They wear a muffin cap of blue cloth with a yellow band around it
+and a yellow ball on its apex; a blue cloth coat with a long plaited
+skirt; a leathern belt, corduroy knee-breeches and yellow worsted
+stockings. Just such, in outside garb, was Chatterton a century ago, and
+thus he is represented on his monument near Redcliff church.</p>
+
+<p><a name="CHATTERTON_CENOTAPH" id="CHATTERTON_CENOTAPH"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 181px;">
+<a href="images/img7.jpg"><img src="images/img7th.jpg" width="181" height="400" alt="CHATTERTON CENOTAPH." title="CHATTERTON CENOTAPH." /></a>
+<span class="caption">CHATTERTON CENOTAPH.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>You are perhaps gazing skyward at some lordly campanile when a sudden
+rush of feet and hum of voices comes around the corner, and the dark
+street is all aglow. These are the Red Maids, who walk the earth in
+scarlet gowns, set off by white aprons: they owe the bright hues of
+their existence to Alderman Whitson, who died in 1628, leaving funds to
+the mayor, burgesses and commonalty of the city of Bristol, "to the use
+and intent that they should therewith provide a fit and convenient
+dwelling-house for the abode of one grave, painful and modest woman of
+good life and conversation, and for forty poor women-children (whose
+parents, being freemen and burgesses of the said city, should be
+deceased or decayed); that they should therein admit the said woman and
+forty poor women-children, and cause them to be there kept and
+maintained, and also taught to read English and to sew and do some other
+laudable work toward their maintenance; ... and should cause every one
+of the said children to go and be apparelled in red cloth, and to give
+their attendance on the said woman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> to attend and wait before the mayor
+and aldermen, their wives and others their associates, to hear sermons
+on the Sabbath and festival days, and other solemn meetings of the said
+mayor and aldermen and their wives," etc. etc. These maids are admitted
+between the ages of eight and ten, and at eighteen are placed at
+service.</p>
+
+<p>Other aspects of Bristol are brought out in Pope's description of it in
+a letter to Mrs. Martha Blount.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> After describing his drive from Bath
+and his crossing the bridge into Bristol, he continues: "From thence you
+come to a key along the old wall, with houses on both sides, and in the
+middle of the street, as far as you can see, hundreds of ships, their
+masts as thick as they can stand by one another, which is the oddest and
+most surprising sight imaginable. This street is fuller of them than the
+Thames from London Bridge to Deptford, and at certain times only the
+water rises to carry them out; so that at other times a long street full
+of ships in the middle and houses on both sides looks like a dream." ...
+"The city of Bristol is very unpleasant, and no civilized company in it;
+only, the collector of the customs would have brought me acquainted with
+merchants of whom I hear no great character. The streets are as crowded
+as London, but the best image I can give you of it is, 'tis as if
+Wapping and Southwark were ten times as big, or all their people ran
+into London. Nothing is fine in it but the square, which is larger than
+Grosvenor Square, and well builded, with a very fine brass statue in the
+middle of King William on horseback; and the key, which is full of
+ships, and goes round half the square. The College Green is pretty and
+(like the square) set with trees. There is a cathedral, very neat, and
+nineteen parish churches."</p>
+
+<p><a name="STEEP_STREET_NOW_PULLED_DOWN" id="STEEP_STREET_NOW_PULLED_DOWN"></a></p><div class="figright" style="width: 338px;">
+<a href="images/img8.jpg"><img src="images/img8th.jpg" width="338" height="400" alt="STEEP STREET, NOW PULLED DOWN." title="STEEP STREET, NOW PULLED DOWN." /></a>
+<span class="caption">STEEP STREET, NOW PULLED DOWN.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is quite as curious to note what Pope omits as what he mentions. He
+is much taken with a commonplace square, and with the mingling of ships
+and houses (which is truly effective), but the modern traveller would
+find the chief beauty of the city in its Gothic architecture, to which
+Pope gives one line&mdash;"a cathedral, very neat, and nineteen parish
+churches." Let the visitor ascend any one of the hills which overhang
+Bristol, and a beautiful scene at once bursts upon his view: this is due
+to the pre-eminent beauty of the church-towers, the great stone lilies
+of the fifteenth century soaring above the dingy town; each,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For holy service built, with high disdain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Surveys this lower stage of earthly gain;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and a hard struggle they have to hold their own against the menacing
+chimney-stacks of manufacturing England. All the poetry and aspiration
+of the past seems contending, shoulder to shoulder, in thick air with
+the material interests of the present.</p>
+
+<p>Strolling about through the grimy streets, one's eye is caught by the
+sign<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> "Quakers' Friars," and following up the narrow court to seek the
+meaning of this odd combination of opposing ideas, one comes to the
+Friends' school, occupying the remnant of a former priory of Black
+Friars. It is a spot intimately associated with recollections of the
+early Friends. In 1690 the father of Judge Logan of Pennsylvania was
+master of this school. Adjoining the school is the Friends'
+meeting-house, built in 1669 on what was then an open space near the
+priory, where George Fox often preached; and within the walls of the
+meeting-house this Quaker father took upon himself the state of
+matrimony. A local bard is inspired to sing:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Many years ago, six hundred or so,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Dominican monks had a praying and eating house<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Just on the spot where a little square dot<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the Bristol map marks the old Quakers' meeting-house.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A different scene it was once, I ween:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No monk is now heard his prayers repeating;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the singers and chaunters and black gallivanters<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had never a thought of "a silent meeting."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="quotTIMES_AND_MIRRORquot_PRINTING-OFFICE_NOW_PULLED_DOWN" id="quotTIMES_AND_MIRRORquot_PRINTING-OFFICE_NOW_PULLED_DOWN"></a></p><div class="figleft" style="width: 336px;">
+<a href="images/img9.jpg"><img src="images/img9th.jpg" width="336" height="400" alt="&quot;TIMES AND MIRROR&quot; PRINTING-OFFICE, NOW PULLED DOWN." title="&quot;TIMES AND MIRROR&quot; PRINTING-OFFICE, NOW PULLED DOWN." /></a>
+<span class="caption">&quot;TIMES AND MIRROR&quot; PRINTING-OFFICE, NOW PULLED DOWN.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The streets near by, called Callowhill, Philadelphia and Penn streets,
+recall the residence here of William Penn in 1697, after his marriage
+with Hannah, daughter of Thomas Callowhill and granddaughter of Dennis
+Hollister, prominent merchants of Bristol. These streets are
+believed to have been laid out and named by Penn on land belonging to
+Hollister. Another Friend was Richard Champion, the inventor of Bristol
+china and the friend of Burke. Champion's manufactory was not
+commercially a success, but his ware is now highly prized, and some few
+remaining pieces of a tea-service, presented by Mr. and Mrs. Champion to
+Mrs. Burke at the time the latter's husband was returned member for
+Bristol, have brought thrice their weight in gold.</p>
+
+<p>In Castle street, not far from Quakers' Friars, stands a profusely
+ornamented mansion, now St. Peter's Hospital. The eastern portion is of
+considerable antiquity: the western was rebuilt in 1608. In the
+fifteenth century the older portion was the residence of Thomas Norton,
+a famous alchemist, who, according to Fuller, "undid himself and all his
+friends who trusted him with money, living and dying very poor about the
+year 1477."<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> Norton's ill-success was, however, in his own belief, the
+success of others. He declared that a merchant's wife of Bristol had
+stolen from him the <i>elixir of life</i>. "Some suspect her" (says Fuller)
+"to have been the wife of William Cannings, contemporary with Norton,
+who started up to so great and sudden wealth&mdash;the clearest evidence of
+their conjecture." The person here intended is no other than the great
+Bristol merchant William Canynge the younger, who was five times mayor
+and one of the rebuilders of Redcliff church. His ships, which crowded
+the quays of Bristol, were a more evident source of wealth than any
+cunningly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>devised elixir except in the eyes of a disappointed dreamer.
+The reflection that in this quaint old house was enacted a history like
+to that of Balthazar Claes lends to it a strange fascination.</p>
+
+<p>The church of St. Mary Redcliff is, as ever, intimately associated with
+the name and genius of Chatterton: no saint in the calendar could have
+shed over it such an interest; and beautiful as it is, "the pride of
+Bristowe and the Westerne Land," how many visit it for its beauty alone?
+This is rather hard for the clericals: they are unwilling to forget that
+Chatterton was an impostor and a suicide; and to have their church
+surrounded by a halo from such a source! bah! They have done what
+they could by removing his monument from consecrated ground and
+depriving it of its inscription.</p>
+
+<p>In an old chest left to moulder in a room over the north porch of this
+church Chatterton professed to find the Rowley manuscripts. In this
+room, "here, in the full but fragile enjoyment of his brief and illusory
+existence, he stored the treasure-house of his memory with the thoughts
+that, teeming over his pages, have enrolled his name among the great in
+the land of poetry and song. Happy here, ere his first joyous
+aspirations were repressed&mdash;ere the warm and genial emotions of his
+heart were checked&mdash;before time had dissipated his idle dreams, and
+neglect, contempt and distress had fastened on his mind, and hurried him
+onward to his untoward destiny."<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></p>
+
+<p>This church is one of the finest examples of the Perpendicular Gothic:
+it has been carefully restored, the work extending over thirty years.
+The most interesting monuments are those of William Canynge the younger,
+the great Bristol merchant, who lies buried here with his wife, his
+almoner, his brewer, his cook and other servants&mdash;a goodly family party:
+the cook is indicated by a knife and skimmer rudely cut upon a flat
+stone. There are two effigies of Canynge&mdash;one in his robes as mayor, the
+other in priest's robes; for in his latter years, after the death of his
+wife, he took orders, and died in 1474 dean of Westbury.</p>
+
+<p><a name="MUNIMENT-ROOM_ST_MARY_REDCLIFF" id="MUNIMENT-ROOM_ST_MARY_REDCLIFF"></a></p><div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img10.jpg"><img src="images/img10th.jpg" width="400" height="303" alt="MUNIMENT-ROOM, ST. MARY REDCLIFF." title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">MUNIMENT-ROOM, ST. MARY REDCLIFF.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The memorial of Admiral Sir William Penn, father of the founder of
+Pennsylvania, is a conspicuous object in the nave&mdash;a mural tablet
+decorated with his helmet, cuirass, gauntlets, sword, and tattered
+banners taken from the Dutch. Near it&mdash;a singular object in a church&mdash;is
+the rib of a whale which is believed to date from the year 1497, there
+being an entry in the town records of that year: "Pd. for settynge upp
+ye bone of ye bigge fyshe," etc.;<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> and as Sebastian Cabot had then
+just discovered Newfoundland, it may have been one of the trophies of
+his voyage. But it long had a very different history: its origin being
+forgotten, there grew up a legend that it was the rib of a dun cow of
+gigantic build who gave milk to the whole parish of Redcliff, and whose
+slaughter, by Guy, earl of Warwick, threw all the milkmaids out of
+employment. It was in Redcliff church that both Southey and Coleridge
+were married.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><a name="ADMIRAL_PENN39S_MONUMENT_IN_ST_MARY_REDCLIFF" id="ADMIRAL_PENN39S_MONUMENT_IN_ST_MARY_REDCLIFF"></a></p>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 252px;">
+<a href="images/img11.jpg"><img src="images/img11th.jpg" width="252" height="400" alt="ADMIRAL PENN&#39;S MONUMENT IN ST. MARY REDCLIFF." title="ADMIRAL PENN&#39;S MONUMENT IN ST. MARY REDCLIFF." /></a>
+<span class="caption">ADMIRAL PENN&#39;S MONUMENT IN ST. MARY REDCLIFF.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The cathedral, "very neat," as Pope expresses it, would be a great
+treasure in New York, but in England, where Gothic structures so abound,
+it is far surpassed by several in its vicinity. It has suffered much
+from iconoclasts, both those who destroy and those who restore. The
+completion of the nave is now being rapidly pushed forward, and will be
+followed by that of the towers&mdash;good evidence that the Gothic revival in
+England has not yet spent its force. In its present condition the
+general effect of the building is disappointing, although there are many
+admirable details. The chapter-house and the archway below the church
+are fine relics of its Norman period. In the choir is the tomb of Bishop
+Butler, author of the <i>Analogy</i>, for twelve years bishop of this
+diocese. There is also a tablet to his memory, erected in 1834, with an
+inscription by Southey. Among the monuments one finds two names which
+shine, it may be said, by reflected light&mdash;that of Mrs. Draper, Sterne's
+"Eliza," and Lady Hesketh, Cowper's devoted friend and cousin. A bust
+of Southey finds a place here as a tribute of respect in his native
+town; and the name of Sydney Smith comes to mind, who was a prebendary
+of this cathedral.</p>
+
+<p>The city of Bristol, although essentially a manufacturing and commercial
+centre, is not deficient in names which have enjoyed a widespread
+literary reputation. All through the first half of the present century
+Bristol was associated with the colossal fame of Hannah More, but the
+idol is long since forgotten, and now, a little more than forty years
+after her death, many might ask, Who was Hannah More? She was the
+daughter of the schoolmaster at Stapleton, near Bristol, and was born on
+the 2d of February, 1745. She was one of five daughters, who by the
+education received from their father were enabled to set up in Bristol a
+boarding-school for young ladies which had the luck to become
+<i>fashionable</i>. Hannah's literary reputation began at the age of
+seventeen with a pastoral drama, the <i>Search after Happiness</i>, written
+for, and performed by, the young ladies of the boarding-school. On this
+slender basis she visited London, was so fortunate as to attract the
+attention of Garrick, and was by him introduced into his brilliant
+circle. She must have been at that time both witty and pretty, for Mrs.
+Montagu and the Reynoldses were delighted with her, Dr. Johnson gave her
+pet names, and Horace Walpole called her Saint Hannah. Her next great
+success was her tragedy of <i>Percy</i>, in which Garrick sustained the
+principal character, and in which Mrs. Siddons afterward appeared. Later
+on, Mrs. More published some <i>Sacred Dramas</i>, but after the death of
+Garrick she abandoned dramatic writing, her views leading her to take up
+what was called, in her day, "strict behavior," of which she now became
+the apostle. On her literary profits she retired to Cowslip Green, near
+Bristol, and later on to Barley Wood, where she was joined by her
+sisters, who were enabled to retire on the handsome profits of their
+school. But neither "strict behavior" nor anything else could weaken
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>Hannah's hold on her day and generation: her <i>Estimate of the Religion
+of the Fashionable World</i> went off like hot cakes, and her <i>Thoughts on
+the Manners of the Great</i> were scrambled for by both great and
+small&mdash;seven large editions in a few months, the second in a week, the
+third in <i>four hours</i>! How many people now-a-days have read <i>C&#339;lebs</i>,
+of which twelve editions were printed in the first year, and in all
+thirty thousand copies of disposed of in America alone? <i>Corinne</i>
+appeared when Lucilla, the heroine of <i>C&#339;lebs</i>, was at the height of
+her popularity, and much animated comparison was instituted between
+Corinne and the rival she has long survived.</p>
+
+<p><a name="THE_CATHEDRAL" id="THE_CATHEDRAL"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img13.jpg"><img src="images/img13th.jpg" width="400" height="192" alt="THE CATHEDRAL" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE CATHEDRAL</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The first opposition which Hannah More encountered arose from her
+efforts to improve the condition of the poor in her neighborhood by
+education and the formation of benefit societies. The impulse to this
+movement came from Mr. Wilberforce, who, being on a visit at Barley
+Wood, was taken on an excursion to Cheddar Cliffs, then, as now, one of
+the "sights" of the vicinity. Mr. Wilberforce, while admiring the
+scenery, chanced to fall into conversation with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> one of the inhabitants,
+and learned, to his dismay, that the whole beautiful region was sunk in
+ignorance and vice. This discovery was discussed in full conclave on
+their return to Barley Wood, and Mrs. More undertook to have a school
+opened in Cheddar. The school proved a success, and by the aid of the
+subscriptions which her name brought from far and near she eventually
+extended the system over nine of the neighboring parishes, sunk in the
+barbarism of English village-life of that day, of which Cowper's village
+of Olney was an example. But this work did not go on as smoothly as the
+sale of <i>C&#339;lebs</i>: it at once aroused opposition from the large class
+who do not like to see old ruts abandoned, and was branded as
+<i>Methodism</i>&mdash;an epithet that was then freely used as an extinguisher for
+anything novel, and was a "bugaboo" of whose terrors we can have in this
+day little conception. Hannah was accused of endeavoring to spread
+toleration, and a favorite charge against her was that she had partaken
+of "bread and wine in a meeting-house." In vain her sister Martha
+explained that she sinned in good company, for many "High-Church people
+did the same, and one gentleman and lady with ten thousand pounds a
+year, who have always the Church prayers performed morning and evening
+in their family." Although the bishop excused her, it was determined
+that Hannah was to be crushed by a review; but all was of no more avail
+than in the case of Miss Martineau, which has been recently recalled by
+her autobiography. Hannah survived it all, and stuck through thick and
+thin to her triumphant schools and her "strict behavior." A less harmful
+shaft was hurled by a Bristol wit on an occasion when her clothes took
+fire and she was saved by the stout quality of her gown:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Vulcan to scorch thy gown in vain essays:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Apollo strives in vain to fire thy lays.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hannah! the cause is visible enough:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stuff is thy raiment, and thy writings&mdash;<i>stuff</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a name="BARLEY_WOOD_HANNAH_MORE39S_RESIDENCE" id="BARLEY_WOOD_HANNAH_MORE39S_RESIDENCE"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img14.jpg"><img src="images/img14th.jpg" width="400" height="273" alt="BARLEY WOOD, HANNAH MORE&#39;S RESIDENCE." title="BARLEY WOOD, HANNAH MORE&#39;S RESIDENCE." /></a>
+<span class="caption">BARLEY WOOD, HANNAH MORE&#39;S RESIDENCE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>A curious incident in Hannah More's life was her encounter with Ann
+Yearsley, the Bristol Milkwoman, of whom some account is given in
+Southey's <i>Essay upon the Uneducated Poets</i>. A gossiping writer briefly
+states the case as follows: "This poor woman, as is well known, sold
+milk, and, from going to water it each morning at the Pierian font,
+caught at length the poetic fervor. Mrs. Hannah More, whom she served<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
+with cream, was struck by the <i>superior</i> merit of her verses, and became
+her patroness. Mrs. More's name was enough to sell worse poetry, or even
+worse milk, than Ann Yearsley's. Milton had no such friend, and could
+not get twenty pounds for <i>Paradise</i>; but Ann Yearsley's book brought
+her some three hundred guineas. Hannah More, as she was the artificer,
+wanted also to become the manager, of the milkwoman's little fortune;
+but the milkwoman thought she was competent to take care of it herself,
+and wanted to bind her boys out to trades. The lady-patroness was
+offended at the independence of the prot&eacute;g&eacute;e, who had been taken
+from under the milk-pails; Ann Yearsley dared to differ from her
+benefactor, and was denounced as an ungrateful woman; all Mrs. More's
+idolaters declared against her, and the whole religious world
+opened on her in full cry."<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Lactilla (for so the Mores and Montagus
+called her) loudly remonstrated: she accused Hannah of being envious of
+her talents, and announced a new edition of her poems <i>freed from Mrs.
+More's corruptions</i>. She carried her point, but, deprived of Mrs. More's
+favor, she quickly sank back into misfortune and obscurity.</p>
+
+<p><a name="WINE_STREET_THE_BIRTHPLACE_OF_ROBERT_SOUTHEY" id="WINE_STREET_THE_BIRTHPLACE_OF_ROBERT_SOUTHEY"></a></p><div class="figright" style="width: 295px;">
+<a href="images/img15.jpg"><img src="images/img15th.jpg" width="295" height="400" alt="WINE STREET, THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT SOUTHEY." title="WINE STREET, THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT SOUTHEY." /></a>
+<span class="caption">WINE STREET, THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT SOUTHEY.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The parents of Lord Macaulay were intimate friends of Mrs. More, and in
+her later years Hannah watched with tender interest the brilliant
+promise of that extraordinary youth. Young Macaulay was a not infrequent
+visitor at Barley Wood, and Mrs. More at one time devised her library to
+him, but afterward withdrew the bequest, owing to her doubts of the
+"strictness" of Macaulay's views. Poor Macaulay! He failed to win the
+esteem of two great female writers: the one feared he had no "religion;"
+the other declared he had no "heart."</p>
+
+<p>As the Misses More began to get on in the seventies, one after the other
+died, and Barley Wood (or <i>Mauritania</i>, as wags called it) grew
+desolate. Then occurred the last great event of Hannah's life&mdash;her
+<i>flight</i> from Barley Wood. It suddenly transpired that for three years
+her eight servants had been in full enjoyment of high life below stairs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
+It was discovered that they had given large orders to tradesmen in her
+name; they had intercepted sums of money intended for charity, and when
+the whole household was supposed to be at rest they were supping on
+presents of game sent to Mrs. More; they had secretly harbored in the
+house one of their relatives who had lost her place for disreputable
+conduct: in short, Mrs. Jellaby's household would have been a paradise
+in comparison with this one. What did Hannah do? She left for ever the
+home of her life: she <i>ran away</i>! A house was secretly taken at Clifton,
+and after she had fled the servants received a quarter's wages in
+advance with immediate dismissal. It must be said for Mrs. More that
+during her sisters' lifetime she had had nothing to do with the
+housekeeping; further, she was in very ill health, and had not been down
+stairs for seven years; but, with all the palliations that may be
+offered, is it not startling to find that this woman's influence had
+pervaded the civilized world with the exception of that little corner of
+it which was to be found under her own roof? This incident, together
+with the quarrel with Lactilla, suggests that Mrs. More did not exert
+<i>personally</i> a very strong influence. In regard to her servants she
+relied upon the deathbed harangue with which Mrs. Martha had consigned
+her to their care, and her confidence was kept up by the texts of
+Scripture which they each night carefully repeated to her before
+retiring to eat her game.</p>
+
+<p>In the heyday of Hannah More's popularity there were living in Bristol
+or its vicinity three young men who were to bring in the new literary
+epoch by which Hannah has been forgotten&mdash;Coleridge, Southey and
+Wordsworth. Both Southey and Coleridge were introduced to Mrs. More by
+Cottle. Southey was invited to pass a day at Cowslip Green: he pleased
+equally all five of the sisters, and Hannah pronounced him "one of the
+most elegant and intellectual young men they had seen." In 1814, Cottle
+conferred a like favor on Coleridge: they went down to Barley Wood,
+where for the space of two hours Coleridge delighted the five-leaved
+clover with his brilliant talk, but, unluckily, a titled visitor coming
+in, the poor philosopher was left to finish his soliloquy alone.</p>
+
+<p>Southey was born in Bristol, at No. 9 Wine street, now the sign of the
+Golden Key. His father, a draper, carried on his business under the sign
+of a hare: although all his life a shopkeeper, he had been brought up in
+the country, and was passionately fond of country sports. He related of
+his first experience of city life in London that, happening to look out
+at the shop-door just as a porter was passing with a hare in his hands,
+it brought the country so vividly before him that he burst into tears,
+and the impression was so lasting that years after, when opening a shop
+in Bristol, he took the hare for a sign, having it painted on a pane in
+the window on each side of the door and printed on the shop-bills. Of
+Robert Southey's recollections of Bristol there is his own very charming
+account in the first volume of his <i>Life</i> by his son.</p>
+
+<p>We return to Pope's letter to Mrs. Martha Blount for his description of
+Clifton: "Passing still along by the river, you come to a rocky way on
+one side, overlooking green hills on the other: on that rocky way rise
+several white houses, and over them red rocks; and as you go farther
+more rocks above rocks, mixed with green bushes, and of different
+colored stone. This, at a mile's end, terminates in the house of the Hot
+Well, whereabouts lie several pretty lodging-houses, open to the river
+with walks of trees. When you have seen the hills seem to shut upon you
+and to stop any farther way, you go into the house, and looking out at
+the back door, a vast rock of an hundred feet high, of red, white,
+green, blue and yellowish marbles, all blotched and variegated, strikes
+you quite in the face; and, turning on the left, there opens the river
+at a vast depth below, winding in and out, and accompanied on both sides
+with a continued range of rocks up to the clouds, of an hundred colors,
+one behind another, and so to the end of the prospect, quite to the sea.
+But the sea nor the Severn you do not see: the rocks and river fill the
+eye, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> terminate the view much like the broken scenes behind one
+another in a play-house.</p>
+
+<p>"Upon the top of those high rocks by the Hot Well, which I have
+described to you, there runs on one side a large down of fine turf for
+about three miles. It looks too frightful to approach the brink and look
+down upon the river; but in many parts of this down the valleys descend
+gently, and you see all along the windings of the stream and the opening
+of the rocks, which turns close in upon you from space to space for
+several miles in toward the sea. There is first, near Bristol, a little
+village upon this down called Clifton, where are very pretty
+lodging-houses, overlooking all the woody hills, and steep cliffs and
+very green valleys within half a mile of the Wells, where in the summer
+it must be delicious walking and riding, for the plain extends, one way,
+many miles: particularly, there is a tower that stands close at the edge
+of the highest rock, and sees the stream turn quite round it; and all
+the banks, one way, are wooded in a gentle slope for near a mile high,
+quite green; the other bank all inaccessible rock, of an hundred colors
+and odd shapes, some hundred feet perpendicular."</p>
+
+<p><a name="SUSPENSION_BRIDGE_AT_CLIFTON" id="SUSPENSION_BRIDGE_AT_CLIFTON"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img18.jpg"><img src="images/img18th.jpg" width="400" height="244" alt="SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT CLIFTON." title="SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT CLIFTON." /></a>
+<span class="caption">SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT CLIFTON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The reputation of the Hot Well, whose waters Pope was sent to drink, has
+utterly collapsed. The Hot Well house was long ago removed to admit a
+widening of the river, and the well itself is now inaccessible. There is
+no spa, once of great reputation, that has sunk into such complete
+oblivion as the Clifton Hot Well: this may be due, in part, to the
+exaggerated estimate that was formed of the virtue of the water, and to
+the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> blamable practice which prevailed of sending patients here at their
+last gasp as a forlorn hope. Of too many it might be said as in these
+lines from the epitaph on his wife by the poet Mason in Bristol
+cathedral:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her faded form: she bowed to taste the wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And died.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The little village of Clifton has now become a handsome suburb, where
+reside the wealthy successors of the merchant-venturers of Bristol. It
+is continuous with Bristol, and where the one begins or the other ends
+is not evident except to the parish authorities. The downs are what they
+were in Pope's time, with the exception of what is now their most
+striking feature&mdash;the suspension bridge across the chasm. As early as
+1753, Mr. Vick, an alderman of Bristol, bequeathed one thousand pounds,
+to be kept at interest until they should reach ten thousand, when the
+amount was to be expended upon a stone bridge across the Avon. Nearly
+eighty years after, in 1830, the fund had reached eight thousand pounds,
+and it was determined to form a company to push forward the project: a
+plan for a suspension bridge by Mr. Brunel was accepted at an estimated
+cost of fifty-seven thousand pounds, and subscriptions were vigorously
+solicited. On the 27th of August, 1836, the foundation-stone was laid in
+the presence of the members of the British Association for the
+Advancement of Science, then holding its sixth annual meeting in
+Bristol. The work went on slowly for seven years, at the end of which it
+was abandoned for want of funds, forty-five thousand pounds having been
+expended, including the legacy of eight thousand. For nearly twenty
+years the towers and abutments stood, unsightly objects in a lovely
+scene, until in 1860 the Hungerford suspension bridge in London was
+taken down, and it was found that its chains might be made use of to
+carry out the uncompleted plan at Clifton. A new company was formed
+with a capital of thirty-five thousand pounds, in ten-pound shares, and
+at length, in December, 1864, the bridge was thrown open to the public.
+Its span is seven hundred and two feet; height from low water, two
+hundred and eighty-seven feet. An inscription on one of the piers thus
+epitomizes its story: "Suspensa vix via fit."</p>
+
+<p>There are many reflections which may be called up by a glance over the
+brink of the chasm at Clifton. Down this muddy ditch dropped the little
+Matthew, with the Cabots in command, bound for the discovery of America;
+borne on the surface of this liquid mud, the Great Western (built at
+Bristol) found its way to the sea and demonstrated the practicability of
+steam traffic with America; and if you ask why Bristol now has so little
+share in that traffic, although reasons as plenty as blackberries will
+be showered upon you, perhaps you will find as convincing a reason as
+any in the sight of this narrow and tortuous channel. Now, at last,
+docks are being built at the mouth of the Avon, and one adapted to the
+largest vessels was opened on the 24th of February, 1877. The prospects
+of present success cannot be brilliant in the prevalent depression of
+the Atlantic trade, yet, to have heard the wild talk in February, one
+would have thought that the dock had only to open its mouth (or gate) to
+have the great plums of trade at once fall into it. The company is too
+wise to expect to catch birds simply by hanging out a cage: every one
+waits to see what <i>bait</i> they will offer. It is claimed that the passage
+from New York to Avonmouth may be made in a day less than to the Mersey,
+and mails and passengers forwarded thence to London in three hours. May
+we soon have the pleasure of welcoming American friends on Avonmouth
+Dock!</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Alfred S. Gibbs.</span></p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="AN_ATELIER_DES_DAMES" id="AN_ATELIER_DES_DAMES"></a>AN ATELIER DES DAMES.</h2></div>
+
+<p><a name="TABLEAU_VIVANT" id="TABLEAU_VIVANT"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img22.jpg"><img src="images/img22th.jpg" width="400" height="396" alt="TABLEAU VIVANT." title="TABLEAU VIVANT." /></a>
+<span class="caption">TABLEAU VIVANT.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>After years of patient endeavor, of hope deferred and heart oftentimes
+made sick, Paletta found herself at last in Paris. Behind her were years
+of anxious calculations and shabby economies, a chequered pathway of
+brilliant ambitions and sombre discouragements. Before her was another
+vista of several years of art-study in the great capital&mdash;a vista
+arched, she could not but know, by as heavy clouds as had ever darkened
+her path. Yet she <i>felt</i>, even although she could not see its end, that
+the forward vista climbed ever upward toward glorious heights, upon
+which the storms of despair never beat, and where she could more nearly
+touch upon the divine ideals that ever elude the grasp of even the
+loftiest of earth's climbers.</p>
+
+<p>And thus she was content. Paletta was yet a little young, it must be
+said, yet in that blessed youthfulness when the loins are girded with
+the strength that reduces mountains to molehills and forces the Apollyon
+of dismay to flee from out every dark valley.</p>
+
+<p>Behold Paletta&mdash;twenty-three years of age, with a winy color upon her
+lips, the faintest perceptible shadow of fading upon the roses of her
+cheeks, a little anxious wrinkle between her earnest gray eyes, a slight
+nasal twang in her New England voice, and a fresh flounce upon her old
+black alpaca dress&mdash;the first morning of her experience in an <i>atelier
+des dames</i> in Paris! She had come down the hill from her dark little
+room on Montmartre, fancying that the gray December day was crystalline,
+that the dingy Rue Germain Pillon&mdash;with its dirty gamins of both sexes
+in cropped hair and blouses or white caps and black gowns, its frowsy
+women slouching in doorways, its succession of odorous <i>cuisines
+bourgeoises</i>, vile-smelling <i>lavoirs</i>, cheap fruit-shops and plebeian
+<i>cr&eacute;meries</i>, its slimy cobblestones, its gutters running <i>not</i> with
+laughing waters, and sending up scents<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> <i>not</i> of spicy isles ensphered
+by sun-illumined seas&mdash;was a rainbow arch over which she passed with
+airy tread toward the Krug studio. For had she not at last finished for
+ever the detestable photograph-coloring which had been a daily
+crucifixion of all her artistic feelings for years? Had she not at last
+reached the Enchanted Land for which she had labored and pined for half
+her life? Had she not clothes enough to last her with patient mendings
+and persistent remakings for two years? Had she not a thousand dollars
+at the Cr&eacute;dit Lyonnais? And did not that stately entrance before her
+lead into a spacious courtyard, and that courtyard open upon the famous
+<i>Atelier des Dames</i>, where, at the feet of celebrated masters of form
+and color, she was to learn some of the mysteries of the art to which
+she had vowed her life?</p>
+
+<p><a name="quotJE_VIEN_ME_PROPOSER_COMME_MODEgraveLE_MESDAMESquot" id="quotJE_VIEN_ME_PROPOSER_COMME_MODEgraveLE_MESDAMESquot"></a></p><div class="figleft" style="width: 130px;">
+<a href="images/img21.jpg"><img src="images/img21th.jpg" width="130" height="400" alt="&quot;JE VIEN ME PROPOSER COMME MOD&Egrave;LE, MESDAMES.&quot;" title="&quot;JE VIEN ME PROPOSER COMME MOD&Egrave;LE, MESDAMES.&quot;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&quot;JE VIEN ME PROPOSER COMME MOD&Egrave;LE, MESDAMES.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Within the court, before the handsome building whose story after story
+of immense north windows showed it to be a collection of artists'
+studios, she found an interesting <i>tableau vivant</i>. A group of
+chattering models came laughing across the sunny court. In one corner
+loomed a huge square object surmounted by the conical crown of a
+Tyrolean hat. Nothing else was visible except a pair of gaitered feet
+mixed among the legs of a sketching-easel, making the whole seem some
+queer phenomenal creature which science had not yet classified or named.
+Before this phenomenon stood&mdash;or rather fidgeted&mdash;a beautiful Arabian
+horse with flashing eyes, and limbs clean cut as if by Doric chisel in
+marble of Pentelicus. This superb animal was held by two grooms, one at
+his head, the other holding first one foot, then another, as the order
+to pose the unwilling model fractionally in the attitude of a prancing,
+curveting Bucephalus came from the square, five-legged, unnamed creature
+in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" thought Paletta as she followed her shadow over the sunny
+pavement, "the famous animal-painter Jacques is behind that great square
+canvas, I know, for I saw him there yesterday painting a struggling
+sheep."</p>
+
+<p>The large room was closely packed with easels&mdash;so closely, indeed, that
+an inadvertent motion of hand or foot often sent a wave of excitement
+through the whole atelier. Heads of every color, from youthful flaxen to
+venerable gray, were bent over their labors. Hecubas and Helens worked
+side by side; maulsticks everywhere gave the scene the appearance of a
+winter-denuded thicket; plaster hands, feet and torsos hung upon the
+walls; bull-headed Nero swelled upon a shelf beside the mutilated Venus
+which is a revelation of the glory that merely human beauty can attain
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>without a gleam borrowed from the divine; fat Vitellius seemed to snore
+open-eyed beside lean and wakeful Julius C&aelig;sar; a mask of Medusa leaned
+lovingly upon the shoulder of Dante; Apollo Belvedere smiled upon an
+<i>&eacute;corch&eacute;</i>&mdash;in atelier parlance "skun man;" finished and unfinished
+studies of heads, bodies and detached sections of bodies hung from nails
+in every possible and impossible place. Upon a slightly elevated
+platform sat the model in his usual street-costume, with oily hair,
+parted in the middle, falling in long waves upon his shoulders. A spiky
+circle rested upon his brow, and upon his face was such a stupendous yet
+futile effort after an expression of divine sweetness and resignation as
+caused maulsticks to separate themselves every now and then from the
+denuded thicket and to wabble vaguely about his mouth or play wildly in
+his hair, accompanied by the commands, "Posez la bouche!" "Posez les
+yeux!" or, in good American accents, accompanied with a sniff of wrath,
+"Call <i>him</i> a good Christ? Umph! He'd pose better as a first-class
+Cheshire cat."</p>
+
+<p><a name="quotTHE_BEST_CHRIST_IN_PARISquot" id="quotTHE_BEST_CHRIST_IN_PARISquot"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img24.jpg"><img src="images/img24th.jpg" width="400" height="278" alt="&quot;THE BEST CHRIST IN PARIS.&quot;" title="&quot;THE BEST CHRIST IN PARIS.&quot;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&quot;THE BEST CHRIST IN PARIS.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The model's divine smile broadened suddenly into a very human grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you understand English, monsieur?" demanded Miss New Haven
+suspiciously, remembering the freedom with which the personal merits and
+defects of the French and Italian models were usually discussed in their
+presence in the Anglo-Saxon tongue.</p>
+
+<p>"A leetle, mademoiselle: I have lived in Londres during two years."</p>
+
+<p>"As artists' model?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oui, mademoiselle. I have made the Jesuses, the St. Johns and the
+Judases for the great English artists teel I have ennuied myself
+&eacute;normement."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because ze artists Anglaise are ze masters vairy difficile, not comme
+les artists Fran&ccedil;ais. Zey demand zat ze model pose during two hours sans
+repose, and zey nevvair give of to drink to ze model."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you return to Paris when you ennuied yourself so &eacute;normement?" asked
+a yellow-haired English girl who had painted countless vaporous and
+ravishing Eurydices and filmy Echoes from broad-waisted, pug-nosed
+Cockney models, and who always declared that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> would recognize a
+"professional" even among the shining hosts of heaven.</p>
+
+<p>"Non, mademoiselle. I rested at Londres to make la musique."</p>
+
+<p>"The music?"</p>
+
+<p>"Comme &ccedil;a;" and the Italian made sundry rotary motions of the arm, as if
+grinding an invisible hand-organ.</p>
+
+<p><a name="THE_ELDER_SWEDE_AND_ARAMINTA_SHODDY" id="THE_ELDER_SWEDE_AND_ARAMINTA_SHODDY"></a></p><div class="figleft" style="width: 317px;">
+<a href="images/img25.jpg"><img src="images/img25th.jpg" width="317" height="400" alt="THE ELDER SWEDE AND ARAMINTA SHODDY." title="THE ELDER SWEDE AND ARAMINTA SHODDY." /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE ELDER SWEDE AND ARAMINTA SHODDY.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Did you earn more money with the music or as model?" asked Mademoiselle
+&Eacute;milie, the girl-artist from Madrid, with black hair dyed golden, who
+always swore by Murillo's Virgins, and who did her work dreamily, as if
+the motions of her hands were timed to the languorous rhythm of some
+far-off, daintily-touched guitar beneath vine-wreathed balcony and
+starlit sky.</p>
+
+<p>"In Londres I gained more money as musician. In Angleterre zere is not
+mooch love of ze Christ, ze St. John and ze Judas. It is not a Catholic
+country, comme la France, and ze Anglaises aime bettaire ze gods of ze
+old Greek hommes. In la France zey aime ze true religion, and I gain
+mooch money, and am in ze Salon many times evairy year, because I am ze
+best Christ in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>A wail swept up from French, American, English, Swedish, Spanish,
+Norwegian, Russian and West Indian bosoms.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>We'll</i> embrace the religion and the gods of the old Greek hommes then,
+or throw ourselves into the profoundest gulfs of infidelity, while we
+remain in Paris," ejaculated Bostonia in a vigorous stage-aside.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a wife?" asked Madame Deschamps, a fashionable
+portrait-painter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oui, madame. Ma femme is Lucreza, whom you know. She has made
+the nymphs and goddesses for a thousand pictures, but now she is
+so much fat that the messieurs will have her only for the head, although
+she still poses for the <i>ensemble</i> in the ateliers des dames."</p>
+
+<p>Here the best Christ in Paris grinned satanically as a polyglot howl
+went up from among the students.</p>
+
+<p>"That's his tit for the tat of the 'Cheshire cat,'" laughed Madame
+Lafarge, a French-American Corinne with an all-French moustache.</p>
+
+<p>"We won't have Lucreza again if she is too fat to pose for the nude
+except in a <i>ladies'</i> studio," snapped the elder Swede.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I have forgotten to say zat she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> has upset ze pail since eight
+days," chuckled the man.</p>
+
+<p>"Upset the pail?" And twenty pairs of eyes looked full of
+interrogation-points.</p>
+
+<p>"Giggle! giggle! giggle!" came sputteringly from behind Concordia's
+easel as she gasped, "Don't you understand? He has improved his English
+among the Americans in G&eacute;r&ocirc;me's studio, and he means she kicked the
+bucket eight days ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Quelle langue! quelle langue est la langue Am&eacute;ricaine!" sniffed
+the elder Swede, wiping off a brushful of "turps" in her back hair.</p>
+
+<p>Paletta twisted her head so as to peer through the forest of easels at
+the last speaker.</p>
+
+<p>"What daubs <i>she</i> must make!" she thought, gazing at spectacled green
+eyes and hay-colored hair <i>&agrave; la Chinoise</i> with her fixed idea that "an
+artistic nature always wrought a semblance of its own beauty upon its
+outward form."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>was</i> the Greek religion?" questioned a girlish voice.</p>
+
+<p>Paletta twisted her neck again. "What lovely ideals must blossom
+upon <i>her</i> canvases!" she thought as she saw a fair vision of
+rose-tints, creamy texture and sculptured lines ensphered in a halo of
+golden hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that poor woman who has so mistaken her vocation?" she asked
+with compassionate gesture toward the coiffure <i>&agrave; la Chinoise</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"That? Oh, that's the celebrated Swedish artist, Miss Thingumbobbia, of
+whom you have heard, of course. She returns to Stockholm next week to
+paint the king's portrait. Mon Dieu! but I would give all my hair for
+the genius of her little finger!" answered pretty Mademoiselle Hubert,
+scraping her palette viciously, as if it were responsible for her
+artistic inferiority to the gifted Thingumbobbia.</p>
+
+<p>"O-o-o-h!" gasped Paletta. "But who is the sweet creature with golden
+hair, who looks infused with fair ideals to her very finger-tips?"</p>
+
+<p><a name="AN_AMIABLE_MADONNA" id="AN_AMIABLE_MADONNA"></a></p><div class="figright" style="width: 329px;">
+<a href="images/img26.jpg"><img src="images/img26th.jpg" width="329" height="400" alt="AN AMIABLE MADONNA!" title="AN AMIABLE MADONNA!" /></a>
+<span class="caption">AN AMIABLE MADONNA!</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"She? Oh, she's Miss Araminta Shoddy from Michigan Avenue, Chicago, who
+is finishing her education in Paris. She comes here twice a week for
+drawing-lessons from the antique, and also in pursuit of general
+information, I should think, judging from her questions. Only yesterday
+she said, 'Ladies, who can tell me the costume of the Venus de Melos? I
+have an idea that it would be stunning for my next fancy-dress ball!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Ladies," cried Miss San Francisco, invisible among the easels, "has
+Professor Manley given out the subject of our composition for next
+week?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered a dozen voices&mdash;"'The Flight into Egypt.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Shoddy, Miss Shoddy, <i>will</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> you pose for my Virgin Mother?"
+cried another dozen.</p>
+
+<p><a name="THE_MORNING_LESSON" id="THE_MORNING_LESSON"></a></p><div class="figright" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img27a.jpg"><img src="images/img27ath.jpg" width="400" height="384" alt="THE MORNING LESSON." title="THE MORNING LESSON." /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE MORNING LESSON.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mees Shoddy, if you will pose for my Madonna I will pose for
+yours," echoed the Raphaelesque Thingumbobbia.</p>
+
+<p><a name="quotHE39S_GONE_GIRLSquot" id="quotHE39S_GONE_GIRLSquot"></a></p><div class="figleft" style="width: 349px;">
+<a href="images/img27b.jpg"><img src="images/img27bth.jpg" width="349" height="400" alt="&quot;HE&#39;S GONE, GIRLS!&quot;" title="&quot;HE&#39;S GONE, GIRLS!&quot;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&quot;HE&#39;S GONE, GIRLS!&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Just before noon the forest of easels swayed slightly beneath a breeze
+of excitement. A masculine step was heard at the door. The model's
+expression became if not divine, at least superhuman. The ladies ceased
+their chatter, and plied their brushes and crayons with increased
+diligence. The morning professor entered, and passed from easel to
+easel, commending this, criticising that, rebuking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> something else,
+making a few touches of the brush upon several canvases, crossing others
+with a network of charcoal-lines to prove inaccuracy of drawing,
+distributed <i>tr&egrave;s biens</i> and <i>pas mals</i> judiciously, and then with a
+pleasant "Bon jour, mesdames," passed away, leaving behind him about an
+equal measure of delight and dismay.</p>
+
+<p><a name="quotH-E-A-VENLY_CHEESE_FOR_A_FRANC_A_POUNDquot" id="quotH-E-A-VENLY_CHEESE_FOR_A_FRANC_A_POUNDquot"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img28a.jpg"><img src="images/img28ath.jpg" width="400" height="314" alt="&quot;H-E-A-VENLY CHEESE FOR A FRANC A POUND?&quot;" title="&quot;H-E-A-VENLY CHEESE FOR A FRANC A POUND?&quot;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&quot;H-E-A-VENLY CHEESE FOR A FRANC A POUND?&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I hope his bed-clothes will always come up at the foot!" growled
+Austina, whose canvas looked like a map of a humming-bird's flight done
+in charcoal.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's all subscribe and buy The Angel a bouquet for Christmas," gushed
+enthusiastically the British blonde Godsalina, upon whom one of the <i>pas
+mals</i> had fallen, and who had the true faith of her nation in the
+efficacy of "tips" for sovereign or beggar.</p>
+
+<p><a name="quotJE_SUIS_Agrave_VOUSquot" id="quotJE_SUIS_Agrave_VOUSquot"></a></p><div class="figright" style="width: 243px;">
+<a href="images/img28b.jpg"><img src="images/img28bth.jpg" width="243" height="400" alt="&quot;JE SUIS &Agrave; VOUS.&quot;" title="&quot;JE SUIS &Agrave; VOUS.&quot;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&quot;JE SUIS &Agrave; VOUS.&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then the model stretched his legs, returned to his normal and carnal
+expression of countenance, and disappeared to return no more till the
+morrow, leaving the platform vacant awaiting the nude female model who
+was engaged for the afternoon. The atelier was abandoned to Sophie, the
+<i>femme de m&eacute;nage</i>, who stirred the fires, gathered stray brushes from
+the floor, changed the background drapery for the afternoon model,
+rearranged the easels into afternoon position, and brought out glasses
+and plates for the ladies, who lunched in the anteroom. And then a
+looker-on in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>Parisian atelier des dames would readily have understood
+the words, "He's gone, girls!" even were that looker-on deafer than the
+deafest old woman who ever mistook a thunder-clap for one of her lord's
+champion snores. In the anteroom conversation ran during lunch in
+various channels. Some of the ladies discussed the ever-absorbing topic
+of the price of living, and boasted of marvellous exploits in the way of
+economy. Other and fewer students, to whom money was as the dust upon
+the bust of Pallas over the studio-door, talked of the last "first
+representations" at the Fran&ccedil;ais, of Croisette's rapidly amplifying
+figure, of Sarah Bernhardt's unnecessary immodesty in dressing Racine's
+Andromaque, of the Grant reception at Healy's, of Lefevre's slipperiness
+of texture, of the lack of the true sentiment of piety in Bouguereau's
+religious pictures, of the harum-scarum amusements among the Americans
+at Bonn&acirc;t's atelier, and the latest gossip of the private studios.</p>
+
+<p><a name="SATURDAY_EVE" id="SATURDAY_EVE"></a></p><div class="figleft" style="width: 301px;">
+<a href="images/img29.jpg"><img src="images/img29th.jpg" width="301" height="400" alt="SATURDAY EVE." title="SATURDAY EVE." /></a>
+<span class="caption">SATURDAY EVE.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Want to know where you can buy just <i>h-e-a-venly</i> cheese for a franc a
+pound?" mumbles young Madame New Jersey with her mouth full of Gruy&egrave;re.</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" from several excited listeners.</p>
+
+<p>"Over in the Latin Quarter, close by the Rue Jacob Brasserie, where so
+many American students hold daily symposia."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll go and buy a quarter of a pound this very evening," said Miss
+Providence energetically.</p>
+
+<p>"I too! I too! et moi aussi!" cried others of the many who lived <i>&agrave; la
+Boh&eacute;mienne</i> in lofty mansards of <i>maisons meubl&eacute;es</i>, dining at cheap
+restaurants, breakfasting by aid of spirit-lamps from corners of
+dressing-tables and lunching on <i>charcuterie</i> in the anteroom of the
+Krug studio, searching high and low for "cheapness" as for a pearl of
+great price.</p>
+
+<p>"And pay twelve sous for your omnibus fare!" cried the practical little
+Illinois maiden, Dixonia.</p>
+
+<p>"Je suis &agrave; vous, mesdames," said the favorite model, Alphonse, at the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Alas, sweet Adonis! we have engaged our people for the next three
+weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"And I am desol&eacute;, mesdames, that you have not want of me;" and the
+graceful Alphonse melted away like a snow-wreath in a south wind.</p>
+
+<p>At one o'clock came the sallow Frenchwoman, with the face of a Gorgon
+and the figure of a Juno, who posed for the <i>ensemble</i>. She stood
+against the dark crimson background, outlined pure and white like a
+marvel of Phidian sculpture upon which the Spirit of Life had slightly
+breathed. So still, so white, so coldly, purely statuesque she seemed,
+that one sometimes entirely forgot that she was else than the fair
+statue born from the block of marble at the command of a divine genius,
+till the chiselled arms were seen to quiver and the sculptured knees to
+almost bend. Then a reproachful cry ran through the atelier: "Shame!
+shame! We have forgotten that she was a woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> and not a statue, and
+have kept her posing two hours without a repose."</p>
+
+<p>"How much do you earn by this wearisome business?" asked Paletta
+pityingly as the tired model, wrapped in a threadbare waterproof,
+cowered over the stove during "the repose."</p>
+
+<p>"If I pose for a half day of each week like this in an atelier des
+dames, I earn twenty-five francs a week, but what I earn by posing for
+artists in private studios depends much upon chance. Sometimes I am
+needed only for a leg or arm or bust, or even hand: then I earn less of
+course, for it makes broken hours. I would demand much more from the
+ateliers des dames had I a handsome face, but always my ensemble is
+painted with the head of a prettier model where there is any purpose of
+using me in a picture."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you become often as fatigued as you are now?" continued Paletta.</p>
+
+<p>"Often more so. I have posed for nearly an hour upon one foot with
+extended arms in a dance of bacchantes, till I have fainted. Oftentimes
+I am kept in a running position upon one foot, with the other far behind
+me, in Atalanta's race; sometimes suspended by cords from the ceiling,
+with arms and legs in horribly uncomfortable positions, till everything
+seems to spin before me."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you dislike to pose for male artists?" asked Paletta.</p>
+
+<p>"Dislike? Why should I with so fine a figure as this?" answered the
+woman, throwing off her cloak to resume her pose. "I'd like it better if
+I had a handsome face, but I'd like it much worse if I had flabby flesh
+or buniony feet."</p>
+
+<p>Paletta saw that no question of modesty entered the model's mind, and
+she went back to her easel to paint the rounded limbs and marble
+huelessness of fair Dian, chastest of all Olympia's deities, wondering
+if, after all, what is called modesty does not come as much of habit as
+of nature&mdash;if the veiled face of the Oriental is not as immodest as the
+unclothedness of the artist's model.</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Margaret B. Wright.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="AUF_DEM_HEIMWEG" id="AUF_DEM_HEIMWEG"></a>"AUF DEM HEIMWEG."</h2></div>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy light streams far, thou gladdening star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O'er vale and forest, tower and town:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From land and sea men look to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In every clime, as night comes down.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But ah! were all the eyes that mark<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy rising, closed in endless dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Undimmed would glitter still<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy bright unpitying spark!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I heed thee not. In yonder cot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As home I haste, from toil set free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through dusk and damp the casement-lamp<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shines clear across the fields for me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear light! dear heart! how well I know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If bitter Death should lay me low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dark would that casement be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And quenched your winsome glow!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Mary Keely Boutelle.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="THROUGH_WINDING_WAYS" id="THROUGH_WINDING_WAYS"></a>THROUGH WINDING WAYS.</h2></div>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"I can't reach it," declared Georgy. "You boys are all growing so tall
+that a girl has to mount on stilts in order to go about with you."</p>
+
+<p>"I will find a log," said I, looking about us.</p>
+
+<p>"Come!" struck in Jack Holt, laughing, "make a footstool of me, Georgy;"
+and without another word he flung himself flat on his face. She was
+never loath to put her foot upon any of our necks, figuratively
+speaking, and now, with a burst of laughter, she took Jack at his word,
+and planting herself on his shoulders peered down through the coils of
+Virginia creeper into the cunningly devised bird's nest in the hollow of
+an oak tree. There were five delicately tinted eggs, and she tried in
+vain to squeeze her slim hand through the aperture and possess herself
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>"Getting tired, Jack?" she asked presently.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered, his face still kissing the moss: "I don't tire so
+easily in your service, Georgy."</p>
+
+<p>I felt rather bitter against them both. I would have died to serve this
+girl, I told myself, yet such an opportunity left me dull and cold. I
+was always dreaming of doughty deeds to please her, yet if she dropped
+her handkerchief I could hardly stoop to pick it up.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, get up, Jack!" cried Harry Dart, whose lip had been curling in
+angry scorn as he watched the performance: "you are by far too good to
+be trodden under foot by any girl, let alone Georgy Lenox."</p>
+
+<p>Georgy tripped down from her temporary throne and made Harry a little
+courtesy. "Do you mean to say that you would not be glad to be trodden
+under foot by Georgy Lenox?" she asked, laughing and tossing her curls.</p>
+
+<p>He gave a contemptuous shrug: "Wait until I give you an opportunity.
+Floyd and I don't make fools of ourselves for any girls."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Harry!" said Jack, who had risen from the ground and was
+now wiping off the earth-stains from his clothes, "don't spoil our day
+by being disagreeable.&mdash;Shall we go on, Georgy?" He gave her a peculiar
+glance in which there was less of humility than gentle command, and she
+sprang after him and put her hand within his arm. He did not serve her
+for rewards as yet, and was used to as many blows as smiles, and this
+was a rare condescension on her part.</p>
+
+<p>Georgy was fifteen&mdash;of the same age as Harry, but considerably younger
+than Jack, who was two years older than his cousin, while I was the
+youngest of the three. We had been playmates all our lives, and had each
+of us found in Georgy Lenox the only girl-friend of our boyhood. She had
+been a beauty from her infancy, and her wiles had grown with her growth
+and strengthened with her strength; and now her myriad tricks of
+mischief, caprice and cruelty were too closely identified with what was
+most bewitching in her not to have become additional charms for us. In
+those days, while we were still hobbledehoys, she pleased us the more
+that she had, with the precocity of her sex, quite outstripped us where
+all subtle social forces are concerned. Although she could be a hoyden
+still, it was quite as easy for her to assume the part of an elegant
+young lady, equipped for society with charming manners, a fastidious
+taste and indifferent ease. We occasionally laughed at her airs, but
+inwardly admired her superb assumptions of careless superiority: had she
+become timid, docile, admiring toward us, I dare say her reign would not
+have lasted the day out.</p>
+
+<p>Harry flung his arm about me, and we followed Jack and Georgy deeper and
+deeper into the wood. It was the last Saturday in May, and the fairest
+day of the year. The thickets were full of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>mysterious sounds, and one
+could almost feel the beating of the delicate pulses of the springing,
+expanding life about us. I knew all the secrets of this forest, and
+loved no place half so well in Belfield outside of my own home. Nature,
+too, seemed tenderer of it than of other wildnesses, and had set the
+seal of her choice upon it with every gift of fern and vine and moss and
+lichen. No axe had invaded these solitudes for years except to prune
+away a too riotous undergrowth along the cart-path: the trees grew in
+grand natural aisles, and to look through the noble colonnade into
+mysterious vistas of copsewood gloom and stillness was for me to thrill
+with that blissful agony of youthful emotion which is our first
+premonition of the unreachable secret that underlies the universe.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you ever think," said Harry to me earnestly, "that you would like
+to leave the world behind you for ever and live altogether in the woods,
+with only the trees and birds for company?"</p>
+
+<p>But, dearly although I loved the woods, I could not answer him that I
+should be willing to resign my home, my mother, my friends and social
+joys for the life of a hermit.</p>
+
+<p>"It's pleasant to see people," I suggested.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not sure of that," Harry rejoined with sudden misanthropy. "See
+what a hard world it is! I feel to-day like Achilles in his tent."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't like Achilles: he was only sullen because he had lost
+Briseis. Surely, Harry, you don't mind it that Georgy has gone on with
+Jack?"</p>
+
+<p>Harry laughed loud and long: "That would be a good joke! As if I cared
+for Georgy Lenox! But it does make me angry to see Jack so taken up with
+her. Did you see her new shoes?"</p>
+
+<p>There could be no question of that.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack bought them for her," said Harry with angry emphasis. "He spends
+all his money on her, and I think it is a shame. She told him at first
+she could not come to-day, because she had nothing to wear on her feet
+except thin slippers. What does Jack do but post off to John Edwards and
+buy her a pair of boots at once!" He paused a moment, then burst out:
+"Just look at them!"</p>
+
+<p>Georgy had flung her flowers at Jack, and having jumped across the
+little brook which meandered through the wood, now nodded at him
+defiantly, tossing her long curls, while her eyes sparkled and her color
+rose. He too sprang over the stream, with pretended anger, and she gave
+a little shriek and flew down the path, with him in pursuit. Jack was
+clumsy and not built for speed, while Georgy had the spring of a fawn;
+but I suspect she was willing to be caught, for when we next gained a
+glimpse of them she was sitting on a stump fanning herself with her
+broad-brimmed hat, which had fallen off, while he was leaning against a
+tree looking at her.</p>
+
+<p>"He has kissed her&mdash;I know he has," Harry whispered to me with a bitter
+look. "I would die before I would kiss her when she behaved like that!"</p>
+
+<p>I was in a sort of tremor. I was too young to be in love in the ordinary
+sense of the phrase, but I was aghast at the thought of the bloom of her
+cheeks and lips being plucked like roses in a hedgerow. She was precious
+to my imagination, yet, for all her every-day reality, scarcely nearer
+to my aspirations than Lady Edith Plantagenet or Ellen, Lady of the
+Lake.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care," muttered Harry doggedly&mdash;"I don't care. I dare say he
+means to marry her when he grows up, but I don't care."</p>
+
+<p>"Floyd," called out Georgy, "can't you show me another bird's nest?"</p>
+
+<p>Now I knew at least a hundred birds' nests in these woods. All Wednesday
+afternoon I had nestled here in the thickets and watched the little
+builders hopping from moss to bough and twig, and had learned all their
+secrets. I knew that by the great rock just behind where she was sitting
+was a ledge with shelving sides overhung with moss, and that there, so
+cunningly wrought and hidden that none but a trained eye could ever have
+discovered it, was an exquisite nest formed of lichens. Half ashamed of
+disclosing such a sacred confidence, I led Georgy up to it. Last
+Wednesday it was barely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> finished: now there were three eggs in it. It
+was a wood-pewee's nest, and while I let her peep the mother-bird flew
+toward us with a shrill pathetic cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, you horrid thing!" cried Georgy to the alarmed bird, that circled
+about us with cries growing every moment more piercing.&mdash;"Is not that
+perfectly sweet? I never saw anything prettier."</p>
+
+<p>I had only consented that she should give one glance, and I now tried to
+coax her away; but nothing would content her but to hold two of the eggs
+in her hand, and while she held them her foot slipped and they fell to
+the ground, and she trod upon them.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Georgy!" I cried angrily, "that is too horribly careless of you: I
+cannot forgive you."</p>
+
+<p>"The idea!" she returned, laughing. "Do look at him, boys!&mdash;as white as
+a ghost just because I broke those wretched eggs! Look at that furious
+little bird! I declare it is ready to peck my eyes out! There, madam!
+now you may go to work and lay some more eggs;" and she took the sole
+remaining egg from the nest and flung it with wanton cruelty into the
+thicket.</p>
+
+<p>I was cut to the heart. Both Jack and Harry came up to me, but I shook
+them off and sat down upon a fallen trunk, and would not say a word in
+answer to their inquiries or consolations. Presently they wandered down
+the woods together, and left me there alone. The owners of the despoiled
+nest kept up a loud, emphatic chirping for a time, which drew all the
+other birds to discover its cause. I felt as if they looked at me with
+wonder and resentment in their innocent eyes. But after a time the
+tumult of sorrow passed and the usual forest sounds returned: the whir
+of partridge-wings smote the air, and I heard the tender coo of the
+mother-hen; then the wind rose and blew through the tree-tops, and the
+blossoming boughs moved restlessly, no longer filtering green sunshine
+through their transparent leaves, but disclosing a gathering storm in
+the glimpses I gained of the sky above. I knew a short cut through the
+wood which led to the hill at the back of my mother's house, and when I
+heard Harry's voice calling me I sprang like a deer into the covert, and
+before the rain came had reached home.</p>
+
+<p>Georgy's wanton cruelty had wounded me deeply, but my allegiance to our
+girl-queen was not easily thrown off; and seizing an umbrella I flew
+back to the woods to offer it to Georgy, who received it kindly, glad of
+shelter from the sudden shower. I was as proud of her smile and
+good-natured thanks as a dog is proud of his master's scant caress after
+a sound beating.</p>
+
+<p>The fair May day ended in rain, and, as usual on Saturdays, my three
+mates finished the afternoon with me. Jack took his books and went
+sturdily at his Greek; Harry drew pictures by the dozen; Georgy was
+reading <i>Queechy,</i> nestled in my mother's chair by the bay-window; and I
+was deep in one of the <i>Waverley</i> novels. Banners streamed, bugles blew,
+spears gleamed, knights jostled in my world. Oh for a wet afternoon
+again like that twenty-five years ago, with the monotonous patter of
+rain in my ears, to go back to C&#339;ur de Lion and Edith and Saladin!
+And not alone the time and the books, and the old high heart with the
+old longings and resolves, and the old fearless eyes to look out upon
+the world, but the old companions as well, with their glorious
+boy-faces, untouched then by any imprint of the base emotions and aims
+sure almost, a little later, to enter in and defile! The rain pattered
+ceaselessly; the heavy scent of the lilacs came in through the open
+windows; the martins screamed about their boxes under the eaves of the
+stable, and I could hear the twitter of innumerable birds; but with the
+consciousness of all this I had no thought except of my rapture for
+Kenneth when the dog sprang at the throat of Conrad.</p>
+
+<p>"Floyd," said Georgy, putting her hand on my arm, "don't you hear the
+door-bell? Ann went out an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>Our service was not numerous, and if Ann had gone out, as was her wont
+when she found a moment's leisure, there was no one to answer the bell
+but myself. I rose heavily and unwillingly, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>walked along the little
+hall, my eyes still glued upon the page, hardly raising them when I
+opened, the door until I saw, instead of some indifferent neighbor, a
+tall gentleman, quite strange to Belfield, who was shutting his dripping
+umbrella. He was very tall, stately, broad-shouldered, with an impassive
+but handsome face, and a glance at once quiet and commanding. He
+regarded me with an amused smile, as if he knew me very well, and
+something about him gradually renewed a sort of recollection in me.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you do?" he asked as I stood squarely in the doorway staring at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite well, sir," I returned gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your name?" he inquired, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"James Floyd Randolph," I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"I am James Floyd," said he. "Suppose you invite me in?"</p>
+
+<p>I led the way silently back to the dull, chilly sitting-room, where Jack
+and Harry still sat at the table, while Georgy was peeping out to catch
+a glimpse of the new arrival. Mr. Floyd, having put his umbrella in the
+rack and taken off his hat and overcoat, followed me, casting a look
+about the room as he entered, as if he missed somebody he expected to
+see.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother is not at home, sir," I observed, sitting down stiffly on the
+edge of a chair: "she has gone to spend the afternoon with a sick lady."</p>
+
+<p>"She will return presently?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she will certainly be at home to tea, sir," I answered; and then,
+remarking that he gave a shrug as he glanced at the wide-open casements,
+I closed both windows, went to the closet, brought wood and kindlings
+and built a fire on the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a boy of much nice discrimination," remarked Mr. Floyd. "Now
+that you have a temperature not altogether conducive to lumbago, I will
+venture to sit down. Do you know who I am?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, sir: you are Mr. James Floyd, the gentleman I was named after."</p>
+
+<p>"Has your mother often spoken of me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, sir," I said again, and at once observed that his face
+brightened up.</p>
+
+<p>"And who are these young people?" he inquired, apparently noticing the
+group by the table for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>I introduced them, and Mr. Floyd shook hands with Jack, put his hand
+under Harry's chin and looked keenly into his chiselled, beautiful face;
+then gave another glance at Georgy, to whom he had first bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Lenox?" he repeated. "Any relation of George Lenox?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, sir: I am his daughter," cried Georgy, blushing and dimpling.
+"I am third cousin to your little girl: Mr. Raymond at The Headlands is
+my great-uncle."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course. How is your father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Papa is pretty well."</p>
+
+<p>"He was first cousin of my wife," said Mr. Floyd, "and I have met him, I
+believe."</p>
+
+<p>The door-bell rang again.</p>
+
+<p>"That is Antonio Thorpe," observed Mr. Floyd&mdash;"a young friend of mine
+for whom I want to get board and lodging in Belfield. Can any of you
+recommend a place? He is a lad of eighteen or nineteen, and will
+probably study under your own masters."</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma would be very glad to have a boarder," struck in Georgy
+earnestly. "There is a nice large room for him."</p>
+
+<p>I ushered in the new-comer, a slim fellow of my own height, but looking
+immeasurably older, with a delicate black moustache and a coat which
+fitted in a way to shame anything in Belfield.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, Tony!" said Mr. Floyd: "you followed quickly upon my
+footsteps; but all the better, perhaps, as I have already heard of a
+suitable place for you to settle. This young lady, Miss Lenox, thinks
+her mother may be able to accommodate you: perhaps she will be good
+enough to take you home now and introduce you, referring her family to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Thorpe bowed with a very finished air, and presently was walking off in
+the rain with Georgy, holding his umbrella over her in a manner truly
+Grandisonian. Harry and Jack also went away, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> was left alone with
+my guardian; for, although I had never seen him since my father's
+funeral eight years before, my guardian I knew him to be. He called me
+up to him, flung his arm over my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "My
+dear boy!" said he in a kind voice, and kissed me on the forehead. "You
+remember me a little, don't you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I remember you now very well: at first it seemed all gone from me."</p>
+
+<p>"No wonder. I have been in Europe eight years. My little girl is ten
+years old, and had never seen me since she was the merest baby. She was
+afraid of me at first."</p>
+
+<p>But not for long, I was sure of that: nobody, man, woman or child, could
+look into his face and not love and trust him.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see your mother," he exclaimed with a sudden flash of
+expression over his tranquil face. "Your mother is all that is left to
+me of my youth: I have come back an old man."</p>
+
+<p>I laughed at this, and then we fell to talking of our life in Belfield.
+I was not a loquacious fellow, but something about Mr. Floyd unloosed my
+tongue, and after describing our quiet household ways I spoke freely of
+the Lenoxes and of Jack and Harry. The two boys were cousins, and Harry,
+having neither father nor mother, lived with the Holts, who were the
+rich people of our village. My two friends loved me dearly, but still
+they were more to each other than I could be to either, for they shared
+the same room, ate at the same table, and had grown into an intimacy
+wonderful and rare even among brothers. They were Damon and Pythias,
+Orestes and Pylades; but indeed I doubted if anything in poetry, history
+or tradition had ever equalled this beautiful and complete friendship. I
+could not be jealous of it, because each gave me all I needed; and even
+if, at times, I felt the pang of being a little outside their world, my
+isolation was made sacred to me by the recollection of the brother I had
+lost, in whom some time, somewhere, I should regain everything.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Floyd had a way of listening which made me yearn to tell him every
+insignificant detail of my life. I knew that he was a man of national
+reputation, but I hardly cared for that, since he was the pleasantest
+companion I had ever met. I found myself gossiping to him about our
+village worthies, making him laugh heartily at their sayings passed into
+tradition and fable among us boys; for our one-eyed shoemaker and our
+corpulent grocer, like many other country wits to fortune and to fame
+unknown, surpassed either Douglas Jerrold or Sydney Smith in quip and
+drollery. And I did not omit George Lenox, for all Belfield except his
+wife was in the secret of his affairs, and they were our crowning joke,
+in which poor George himself joined merrily, although the story was so
+against himself.</p>
+
+<p>"That girl of his is remarkably pretty," said Mr. Floyd. "Is he, then,
+so poor? He was well born, liberally educated, and married in a family
+of high pretensions."</p>
+
+<p>There could be no doubt but what George Lenox had begun better than
+other men, with enough to live on comfortably in city or country,
+provided he did not think too much of the necessity for showing his wife
+that she had not lessened her consequence in marrying him. Nobody could
+accuse poor Mr. Lenox now-a-days of ambition, or blame him if, in those
+early days as now, that terrible woman had frankly regarded him as an
+utter nonentity save in his association with her own destiny. She was a
+handsome woman, with aquiline nose, a thin, firmly-set mouth, piercing
+eyes and a magnificent carriage. She was no longer young when she had
+accepted Mr. Lenox, and by what means she had encompassed his
+subjugation we were never told: he always shook his head when he alluded
+to his courtship. "A fellow is wax in a woman's hands," he had sometimes
+remarked darkly. But after his marriage he had seemed to acquiesce in
+his wife's belief in her high individual value to the world in general
+and himself in particular, and had given her the best of everything.
+Mrs. Lenox knew how to spend money,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> she had a house in New York and a
+villa in Belfield; she had running accounts with tradesmen; and not only
+gave dinner-parties, balls and receptions, but out-dressed her circle
+with a sort of gorgeous superfluity which made her intimates experience
+the ignominy of their inferiority. Mr. Lenox resigned himself to the
+irresistible current of his wife's will, and if he felt inward doubts
+silenced them as suggestions of morbid distrust in the discretion of a
+woman whom he knew to be virtuous, and whose price was so much above
+rubies that sordid calculations ought not to be mentioned in the same
+breath with her. After a time, however, not even his high faith in the
+necessity of agreeable issues where she was concerned could blind him to
+the fact that he had many debts and but a few thousand dollars. He at
+once invested these thousands in an enterprise which was shortly to make
+all those interested in it millionaires. But if any one made money out
+of it, it was not George Lenox, who suddenly found himself reduced to be
+a pensioner upon his wife, who had twelve thousand dollars invested in
+railway stock. They removed to their little Gothic cottage in Belfield,
+and Mrs. Lenox lost what remained of her beauty, her spirits, her
+temper, but never her ineradicable pride. Within a year her husband had
+taken her railway stock, sold it and invested it in some speculation
+which failed ignominiously, as any schemes of his were sure to do.
+Nothing attracted him which was regulated by average laws of supply
+answering a demand: all his undertakings required a miracle, an upheaval
+of popular ideas, to ensure success. He never told his wife of this
+embezzlement of his: when he lost her property he meditated suicide, and
+merely staved off the evil day by pretending to pay her dividends
+regularly; and for this he twice a year implored the assistance of his
+uncle, Mr. Raymond. The railroad in which Mrs. Lenox had invested was a
+prosperous one, and occasionally declared an additional stock dividend:
+it was on these occasions that the reduced lady lost in a degree her
+usual air of picturesque gloom&mdash;that she roused herself to talk about
+her family and the glories of her youth, the &eacute;clat and brilliance of her
+position, which she had never lost until after marrying her unfortunate
+husband; and at such times she even regained her courage and made a
+round of visits, dropping glazed and ancient cards, and retaining in her
+feebleness all the traditions of her majesty. But this epoch of her
+revived grandeur was set in painful contrast to poor Lenox's misery. He
+was commissioned to sell the scrip, which, for him, had no existence,
+and thus raise money to deck the family in transient brightness. I fancy
+that at such times, without any waste of rhetoric or balancing of
+expediencies, he was more in love with suicide than Hamlet or Cato, and
+that if it had not been for the sympathy and aid of a golden-haired
+little girl he would have swallowed his death-potion quietly. Georgy was
+his firm ally against her mother, and helped him shrewdly in many a
+close pinch; and his rich uncle, Mr. Raymond (Mr. Floyd's
+father-in-law), rarely refused him provisional aid upon his application,
+although he was wise enough to decline helping him in any of his
+fantastic kite speculations.</p>
+
+<p>"And what sort of a girl is this Miss Georgy?" inquired Mr. Floyd. "Has
+she been injured at all by the somewhat exceptional circumstances of her
+family?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she gentle, generous and open in her ways?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gentle, sir&mdash;generous?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is remarkably pretty."</p>
+
+<p>I assented eagerly to this observation, and he laughed: "There is no
+doubt in your mind upon that point. If she were in all respects a
+suitable companion for Helen, I would request that she should be invited
+to The Headlands. But Tony will find out what she is made of. He will be
+a new friend for you."</p>
+
+<p>And he told me about this Antonio Thorpe, who had been under his
+guardianship for six years. He was the son of an Englishman who had
+married a Spanish girl in the West Indies: the lad was but twelve years
+old when he was thrown upon the world without parents<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> or near relatives
+or suitable provision for his maintenance. The elder Thorpe had been a
+careless, good-natured person, without any distrust of his fellows, and
+not knowing what to do with his son had thrust him upon Mr. Floyd, who
+had at some trouble and expense looked after his education. He had
+entered college the year before, but his conduct had been a little
+unsatisfactory to the authorities, and his guardian had withdrawn him,
+and now, in some doubt as to the best course to pursue in regard to his
+future, wished him to study for a few months quietly at Belfield.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mother will let him visit here, I trust," he went on. "I think he
+is half a good fellow, and we must forgive the other half, because his
+mother was the proudest, vainest, silliest little Castilian that ever
+lived. Tony has got a good deal to contend against."</p>
+
+<p>But the drawbacks to Thorpe's advancement were not so patent to my mind
+on first acquaintance as his advantages. He had a slight, graceful
+figure, a little under height, but carried himself with the dignity of a
+grandee; his eyes were large, dark and languishing; his complexion was a
+pale olive; while his moustache, black and exquisitely pencilled, was a
+sign of itself of towering superiority above the rest of us callow
+youths. That alone would have filled me with envy.</p>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Ah," exclaimed Mr. Floyd, starting to his feet, "that is your mother, I
+hope."</p>
+
+<p>I had become too much absorbed in our talk to hear the click of the
+gate, but now I sprang up and rushed to the door, and, seeing my mother
+quietly walking up the path, I ran out bareheaded into the rain.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother," I cried, "you cannot guess who has come to spend Sunday
+with us!"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to me all at once that some thought of him must have been in
+her mind, for her color came and went. "I hope it is Cousin James," she
+replied calmly.</p>
+
+<p>As I took her umbrella from her hand I could see that she was trembling
+and her lips quivering. I unclasped her cloak and untied her bonnet, and
+took them from her: she ungloved her hands hastily and smoothed her hair
+as she went along the hall. Mr. Floyd stood facing her as she entered
+the sitting-room. "Dear Mary!" said he, and took her in his arms and
+kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>I felt as if I had been struck a heavy blow. I knew that he had been not
+only my father's first cousin, but his nearest and dearest friend as
+well; but, for all that, it was not easy for me to see my mother
+surrendering herself to that caress. But presently, when I saw that she
+was crying, I knew that she was thinking only of my father and her long
+agony of loneliness, and I forgave them both. When she regained her
+calmness she called me to her with a timid smile and a faint blush.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my boy, James," she said, looking up at Mr. Floyd smiling, but
+with the tears still on her cheeks. "He is your godson, you remember,
+and namesake."</p>
+
+<p>"My godson, my namesake, my ward, and my dear friend besides," replied
+Mr. Floyd, throwing his arm heavily over my shoulder. "I know him
+already very well, and I like him more than I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>That same old thrill of feeling goes over me now like a wave as I write.
+As I stood looking up at him I seemed to grow rich, as if I had suddenly
+come into my kingdom. I continued to stand leaning against him as he sat
+down close beside my mother and talked intimately and freely with her. I
+may have felt a little alien and apart at first, for the days they
+talked of were the days of long ago, before I could remember. Mr.
+Floyd's private personal history had been but one short chapter in his
+long, full and busy life. He was well past thirty before he had married
+Alice Raymond, the only child of a wealthy merchant: she was but
+seventeen when he first saw her and fell in love with her. Few <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>people
+knew whether the twelve short months of his married life were but as a
+dream to him now, eleven years later, or whether his scant allusions to
+that time came from a shy tenderness for a memory which was his dearest
+and most sacred possession. Alice Raymond was but little past eighteen
+when she died, and even the child she left behind her had never really
+belonged to Mr. Floyd, but had grown up at her grandfather's at The
+Headlands while her father had assumed the duties of a mission abroad.
+Life had denied him little of what men seek as objects in a brilliant
+and exciting career; but in listening to him now I felt a certainty that
+he had been a lonely man, and, if not an unhappy one, that his mind was
+tinged at least with a certain melancholy which lay at the root of all
+his impulses.</p>
+
+<p>My mother seemed to have grown younger in meeting him. She was always
+the most beautiful of women to me, with her large, serious brown eyes,
+her wavy brown hair, her complexion pure and delicate as a young girl's;
+and indeed she was but twenty years older than myself, thus at this date
+only thirty-four. But while she talked to Mr. Floyd I observed a change
+in her: her eyes had lost their pensiveness and calm, and fell before
+his shyly: the flushes came and went on her cheeks. He told her again
+and again that in meeting her he found the first realization that he had
+come back to his home: old Mr. Raymond had seemed to be afraid of him,
+and little Helen had cried with terror when he first clasped her in his
+arms and kissed her with unguarded fondness.</p>
+
+<p>"But that was not strange," observed my mother. "Intimate affection is,
+after all, a habit. Now that you have a chance of having your little
+girl always with you, she will very soon grow fond of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I have no claim to her. She must stay with Mr. Raymond as long
+as he lives, I suppose. He loved Alice, but he worships Helen. I robbed
+him of his child once almost against his will, and now that he is so old
+a man I could not have the heart to do it again."</p>
+
+<p>"But she is your own daughter!" cried my mother, half indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"But I made my mistake ten years ago. Just then I only cared for what
+lay beneath a fresh grave at The Headlands: there seemed to be no
+to-morrow for me&mdash;no time when I should get used to such sorrow and find
+comfort in any one or anything that took Alice's place. I gave up Helen
+then with absolute indifference: now such coldness seems enigmatical to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to have her with you now."</p>
+
+<p>"It could not be. I asked her this morning if she would come with me:
+she burst into a passion of weeping, and declared she could not leave
+her grandfather&mdash;that he would die without her; and I verily believe
+that he would. Well! well! I have got along for ten years without
+happiness. I have a career, while Mr. Raymond, millionaire though he is,
+has nothing but Helen. If only my health does not altogether fail!"</p>
+
+<p>"You are not ill, James?"</p>
+
+<p>"The doctors tell me that I have three incurable diseases," returned Mr.
+Floyd, laughing. "Then I took cold the moment I landed in this horrible
+climate. I perfectly realize the truth of the Psalmist, who declares
+that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Physicians dote upon me: I
+am an admirable field of research. Some people have the ill taste to die
+without any preliminaries, but I shall not give occasion for any painful
+surprise. Still, I only tell you this that you may make the most of me.
+Let me hear about yourself, Mary. If you only knew how often I have
+thought of you shut away here from the world in this wretched country
+place, nothing near you not utterly foreign to your tastes and your
+circles of thought!"</p>
+
+<p>My mother's hand stole into mine, and she met my jealous glance and
+smiled into my face. "Cousin James does not know what good times we
+have, does he, Floyd?" said she.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot for one moment your consolations," said Mr. Floyd. "I saw your
+boy's mates when I came in: one of them has a powerful face: he looks
+like a youthful Cato."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That is Jack Holt," I cried. "He <i>is</i> like Cato: he is strong, severe,
+just. Whatever he says ought to be done we know must be done, even if
+the heavens fall."</p>
+
+<p>"And the handsome fellow, who is he? Harry Dart? He looks equal to the
+heroism of all Plutarch's heroes: he has a beautiful, consecrated face.
+I hope he will live up to what it tells us now."</p>
+
+<p>Glad and proud although I was to see Mr. Floyd, his coming disturbed me
+a little. Hitherto I had accepted my life unquestioningly. We had been
+poor ever since my father's death, and my mother's life had become
+circumscribed and narrowed down to Belfield. It had seemed to me that no
+other people in the world were just so happy as my mother and myself.
+What need had we of a larger house, when the one stately mansion that I
+was familiar with appeared to me a desert, even with all its fairy-land
+splendors? Jack Holt's father was too rich a man not to allow his wife
+all the good things which she coveted, and her parlors, halls and
+bedrooms were irrefragable proof of the enormities which may be
+committed with an utter want of taste and tens of thousands of dollars.
+Both Harry and Jack hated the house, and spent every available moment
+out of school in our comfortable, well-worn nooks inside and out of
+doors. My mother used to play to us at twilight, and sing sweet ballads
+which gave us a state of mind full of the blessed misery which youth
+loves. Then what gay little waltzes used to rattle off from my mother's
+fingers! She taught us all to dance, and in the winter dusk we would
+waltz in turn with Georgy Lenox, the two of us who could not have her as
+a partner circling with our arms about each other's less slender waists.
+Then the feasts my mother used to cook for us with her own clever hands
+have made the greatest banquets seem poor since: she had the gift of
+performing every feminine task better than any other woman in the world.
+In short, I had lived the life which undoubtedly comes to many a lad who
+has no father: my mother appeared to have no thought but of me and my
+happiness, and not one of my dreams of far-reaching happiness but
+included her. I realized enough of the exquisite worth of her devotion
+to me never to cross her wishes: an invisible yet insurmountable barrier
+separated me from any of the grosser faults of boyhood, for she never
+let me go from her without her kiss, the clasp of her hand, and her
+saying, "You will be a good boy, Floyd?"</p>
+
+<p>Yes, I had been perfectly happy; and, as I say, it disturbed me to have
+a doubt suggested that this full, complete existence of mine had not
+filled my mother's heart as well. Belfield&mdash;merely writing the word
+"Belfield" has a breezy influence over my mind still. Wherever a man has
+spent his boyhood there linger associations of the cool wind of the
+hill-top, the sound of the sea audible yet invisible, the hush before a
+storm, the tumbling of the ice in the river in the spring freshets, the
+berries that grew on the edge of the wood, the ecstatic thrill of
+physical strength and delight on the playground where he ran "drinking
+in the wind of his own speed." But youth is the season not alone of
+action, but of reverie. Most of our original thinking is done before we
+are sixteen: after that we acquire so much of other men's experience
+that our thoughts wear the current stamp. We come into our rich
+inheritance of the world's accumulated knowledge, and evolve from it the
+answers to the necessities of our own individual development. As boys we
+were not cribbed by any exact logic and hard common sense, which must
+stretch us a little later on a Procrustean bed, and we were free to grow
+as we would and to stand on the highest level of noble thought and
+heroic deed. The writers whom we read with avidity were those who
+ennobled us: in those days youth was the era of a high romanticism, and
+our authors did not enter the actual world which lay about us, giving us
+pictures of real life, and with devilish ingenuity teaching us to regard
+men's actions from the reverse side, and thus detect ignoble traits as
+the mainspring of human achievement.</p>
+
+<p>More than forty of us went to school<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> together in the stiff white
+academy which stood on the hill surrounded by a quadrangle of straight
+poplars. We learned many things there&mdash;some from the grim old preceptor,
+some outside the walls. I had a volume of Plutarch, from which I used to
+read stories to the boys as we lay on the grassy slopes in the shade,
+and I often felt a tremor in my voice as I read. It seems to me
+sometimes that the youth of this day lose some of the grandeur which
+made our ideals. Our sons read "Oliver Optic" and the magazines, while
+we used to thrill over the grand words of the men who have ruled the
+world. Then my mother's teaching was simple, direct and wise, and had
+become incorporated in every action of my will and impulse of my heart.
+I was to love and obey my God, never to tell a lie, never to do a mean
+action, never to be disloyal to a friend nor unfair to a foe. Still, if
+Harry and I were tolerably good, one of the reasons which acted most
+powerfully to restrain us from committing faults was our wish to stand
+well with Jack: he never scolded, never gave advice, but if he were
+displeased with our conduct we could not eat or sleep. Once Harry
+committed a trifling error&mdash;to call it a wickedness seems a grotesque
+exaggeration now&mdash;and Jack did not like it.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, Harry," he said coldly, "you can do as you please, but I am
+disappointed in you."</p>
+
+<p>Harry rushed out of doors, and could not be found all night: he slept on
+the turf beneath his cousin's window, and the rain drenched him and he
+took a violent cold.</p>
+
+<p>"You were foolish," observed Jack, smiling coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"But do you forgive me now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I forgive nothing: a bad action is a bad action. But I could not sleep
+when I did not know where you were: I got up and studied, for I was so
+tormented."</p>
+
+<p>But Jack was so equable, so gentle! There was never a trace of harshness
+in his treatment of us. Indeed, it was only in his unfailing rectitude
+that he surpassed us, for, our senior although he was, he could barely
+keep up in our classes. Harry was the quickest of the three, but with a
+mortal hatred of hard study: he had an easy capacity for mastering
+knowledge without tedious assiduity; and, as he was resolved to be a
+painter, he held all mental acquirements as subsidiary to his
+master-passion for gaining dexterity and skill with his pencil. He could
+have done anything at his books had he expended any high endeavor, but
+he always let his chances slip by him, and allowed me to carry off the
+prizes which he might far more easily have won. I was by nature and
+habit rigidly conscientious, and discontented with myself unless I did
+my best. I hated cheap successes, and I was shy of praise, as my
+performances always fell short of my ideals. Mine was no studious
+disposition, and I had plenty of physical inclination to shirk lessons
+and lie beneath the forest boughs watching the birds all day; but there
+were detached lines that I used to repeat to myself aloud over and over
+again in lonely places, caring far less for their meaning than for the
+immeasurable music of the words.</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+
+<p>I could write many chapters about our life at Belfield, and perhaps of
+all I have to tell nothing would be so well worth telling. Belfield is a
+quiet place on the shore of Long Island Sound, placidly sleeping through
+the summers and autumns beneath the shadows of its immemorial trees. We
+went to school on the hill: below us was our ancient church built in
+far-off colonial times, and connected with many a story of Revolutionary
+times, to which we used to listen greedily: George Lenox had one of
+which we never tired.</p>
+
+<p>"My grandfather," said he, "went to church the Sunday after the
+proclamation of the Declaration of Independence, and when the clergyman
+read the prayers for the royal family he stood up in his pew and cried
+out that no such prayers must be read in Belfield&mdash;that George III.'s
+name was no longer the name of our friend, but of our worst enemy. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
+minister rose and shut up his prayer-book forthwith, raised his hand and
+pronounced the benediction, and the church was closed until the end of
+the war. We were good Federalists, we were," continued Mr. Lenox, "but
+we had one staunch Tory and Churchman in our family. After the church
+was closed my grandfather's family used to attend Presbyterian meeting
+on the hill, close by where your schoolhouse now stands; but their old
+dog, Duke, would never go past the church when he followed his master
+out on Sunday mornings: he would not go to Presbyterian meeting&mdash;not he:
+he stretched himself on the great millstone before the closed
+church-door."</p>
+
+<p>When Jack, Harry and I sat together on the high "back seat" at school we
+had a good view down the hill at the weather-stained old church, with
+its imperishable gilt vane on top of the tall spire. Often enough our
+vagrant eyes wandered that way, but not that we cared for green slopes
+or colonial church or venerable weathercock. The truth of the matter
+was, that we oftentimes saw Georgy Lenox walking along the quiet street
+under the elms. To tell of our early life in Belfield, and say nothing
+of the influence which was already moulding the lives of at least two of
+us, would be to give an incomplete and partial picture. I was an
+imaginative boy, and Jack was the reverse, yet we were both desperately
+in love with the same girl. As for Harry, nobody ever decided what he
+felt toward her. They continually quarrelled when they were together,
+and Harry sometimes took pains to abuse her in her absence: he never
+read of an unworthy trait in a woman but he at once pointed its meaning
+at her. He called us "spoons," etc. for caring about her, yet, all the
+same, she must have been invested with an endless store of associations
+in his mind, for his portfolio was full of sketches of her; which seemed
+to furnish his ideals of feminine beauty. She was not only Rowena, but
+Rebecca as well (with only a change of complexion), Helen of Troy and
+Joan of Arc, Cleopatra and the Madonna, Marie Stuart and Elizabeth
+Tudor. Still, Jack and I each felt that he was not one with us in his
+devotion to her, and we made no confidences to him respecting her. For
+Jack and I talked about her incessantly when we were together: when we
+saw her in the street below us we nudged each other, and together felt
+the thrill, the inextinguishable rapture, of beholding the sunny gleam
+of her golden hair and her quick, graceful gait.</p>
+
+<p>We were not rivals. I do not know how the thought of her came to Jack in
+those early days, but he had a habit of decision, and I dare say had
+made up his mind that she was to be his wife. He had plenty of
+pocket-money, and could buy her trinkets, ribbons and gloves: I had no
+money, and my tribute to her was of flowers and fruits. It was natural
+to both of us to offer her all we could; and it was equally natural to
+her to receive our largesse with a smile and laughing thanks if it
+pleased her, and a cool, indifferent shrug of contempt if it failed to
+suit her.</p>
+
+<p>I carried the thought of her into all my occupations. Were I planting my
+mother's flower-beds, were I writing my composition, it was all the
+same: the question was, "Will it please Georgy?" Not that it mattered;
+and I well knew that I was a fool for it all, for she was steadily
+indifferent to any matters in which she had no personal concern, and
+despised my pains with scant ceremony. I too held in contempt my small
+efforts to please her, and fell a-dreaming of the wonderful things I was
+sure to do some time. Not that she was slow in telling us what she
+wanted, and her demands upon us were not of the sort that appertain to
+heroic achievements; yet I felt, all the same, that let me once be a
+hero I must win her approbation. I can remember her sitting in our
+garden at home under the laburnums, with the greenery making a
+background for her fresh girl-face. From her babyhood her beauty had
+been remarked, and at ten years old she was as used to compliments as an
+old woman of the world. Mrs. Lenox had long since resigned expectation
+for herself, but she was not yet too hopeless to indulge in passionate
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>belief of a brilliant future for her daughter; and when I used to
+listen to the gorgeous day-dreams of the two, I felt dejectedly that my
+own most radiant visions were by comparison the offspring of a lifeless
+and gloomy fancy. There was nothing problematical or idealistic in their
+ideas of a happy destiny. What they wanted was, in the first place,
+money; in the second place, money; thirdly and finally, money. I doubt
+whether Mrs. Lenox ever resigned herself to the sway of fiction or
+poetry, but I am sure that had she studied Shakespeare she would have
+thought Iago's advice to Roderigo shrewdly comprised the worth of all
+aspiration. She and Georgy longed for dress, jewels and laces; great
+houses panelled with mirrors and carpeted with velvet; magnificence and
+pomp and circumstance about their every-day life; horses, carriages,
+invitations, theatres, operas,&mdash;all the pleasures which throng toward
+people with lined pockets and idle lives. Their wants were innumerable,
+their taste and fancy a harp of a thousand strings upon which caprice
+and vanity could play an endless variety of tunes. Mrs. Lenox had once
+enjoyed the luxuries she still coveted so ardently, yet Georgy, who had
+never known wealth, or even the easy-assured comforts of life, had
+instinctively the keener perception of the two for the worth of costly
+surroundings and possessions. No princess who had breathed perfumes all
+her life, trod on velvet and been served on gold and silver, could have
+felt a more vital necessity for luxury than Georgy, who had always lived
+among shabby things and known few but shabby people. She was born with
+the looks, manners and tastes of what we call an aristocrat, and her
+mother worshipped these traits in her. When one day she flung away her
+dinner because it was not to her liking, and went out of doors and
+pulled the peaches ripening against the wall, and ate them instead, Mrs.
+Lenox felt that such fastidiousness foreshadowed a destiny more than
+common. For her to tear her hats to pieces and cut her dress or apron in
+shreds because they did not suit her was a frequent caprice, and one we
+had all laughed at again and again&mdash;except Jack, who was thrifty by
+nature and respected the worth of things like a sensible economist. It
+was generally he, however, who replaced the ruined garments, and by the
+time he was sixteen he had attained quite a nice taste in millinery from
+his frequent purchases for Georgy. Mrs. Lenox always had a fit of
+weeping when such presents came and were displayed by Georgy as
+trophies, for she was still too proud not to be cut deeply by every
+fresh humiliation; but her belief in her daughter's future carried her
+through the present, and she pacified her scruples in regard to her
+course with Jack or anybody else who made outlay for her daughter by
+remembering that all such services would be balanced by and by when the
+natural order of things had been restored.</p>
+
+<p>All in Belfield knew both Mrs. Lenox and Georgy so well&mdash;their history,
+the miserable shortcomings of their home, the girl's scanty education
+both of intellect and morals&mdash;that we could but attribute their faults
+to sheer worldliness combined with the evils of their bitter poverty.
+Jack and myself, at least, with the most meagre excuse readily forgave
+Georgy everything. She was so beautiful, so radiant in all the phases of
+her dingy life, so good-natured even in her contempt of our stupidity
+and dulness, so eager to find enjoyment in everything, that we were
+willing to accept all her faults with her charms, to love her
+idolatrously, and blame ourselves for harshness if we were momentarily
+angry with the lovely creature.</p>
+
+<p>We had all, even Georgy, been reasonably happy in Belfield until Mr.
+Floyd and Antonio Thorpe came. My guardian's influence I will speak of
+later, for it touched only myself perhaps; but Tony's was felt more or
+less by us all. He widened our horizons at once, and, as usual, enlarged
+our imaginations at the expense of our belief in ourselves. We were not
+used exactly to be complimented on our ignorance of the world, but in
+Belfield habits of thought tended toward a pleasant conviction of the
+uselessness of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> knowledge and experience that our best inhabitants
+did not happen to possess. Until Tony came we were in the habit of
+deploring the fate of people who were not born and brought up in
+Belfield. Almost the entire population were descendants of the original
+proprietors of the soil, and we had our own ideas about our first
+families. Thorpe's views, however, were not flattering: he was, in fact,
+one of those elegant young men whose innermost souls are penetrated with
+convictions of the inadequacy of intellects in general to appreciate
+theirs in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Both Jack and I passed sleepless nights at first, wretched at the
+thought of his sleeping beneath the same roof with Georgy Lenox&mdash;of his
+enjoying that mystical, beautiful experience of coming down every
+morning to find her at table with her hair freshly curled, to enjoy the
+felicity of passing her eggs and toast, to carve a slice for her from
+the joint which the welcome addition of the young man's payment for
+board allowed Mrs. Lenox to provide for her dinner. Then, too, we felt
+with a pang that he would receive with his unequalled grace all sorts of
+little services from the daughter of the house: she would pour his tea
+for him, counting the lumps of sugar and dropping cream upon them in the
+distracting way we knew; she would amuse him with her sweet-voiced
+chatter. He was so old, so handsome with his velvety eyes and his
+moustache, she might even fall in love with him. However, Georgy was not
+given to sentiment, and Tony, for his part, was utterly indifferent to
+her: indeed, the most exclusive circles in Belfield opened to him at
+once, for a young man with a moustache was a <i>rara avis</i> there, the
+masculine element in the village falling short of social requirements,
+as its representatives were generally either in their first or second
+childhood. But the only intimacy he cultivated was with me and my
+mother: he criticised everybody else, and it was evident that he
+considered nothing in Belfield quite good enough for him.</p>
+
+<p>"What a great man my master is!" says the French valet: "nothing suits
+him." And it must be confessed that the valet's state of mind
+concerning his master much resembled ours regarding Thorpe. At every
+woman in the place except my mother he levelled trenchant sarcasms: the
+men, he declared, possessed every trait which could shock or weary a man
+of the world, and not only displeased his eyes, but were so foreign to
+his spheres of thought that he was obliged to ignore them. At the habits
+and customs of everybody alike he shrugged his shoulders, and we used to
+wonder to each other why so great a man stayed in Belfield at all. But
+he did us no harm, and it is not impossible that he did us good. He
+laughed freely at our provincialisms, accustomed us to take raillery
+good-naturedly, disillusionized us in many ways, and showed us always a
+pattern of polished and careful demeanor.</p>
+
+<p>He used to entertain us frequently&mdash;if I may use the word "entertain" to
+describe his indifferent toleration of us and his acceptance of such
+listeners in default of better&mdash;by a description of Mr. Raymond's place,
+"The Headlands," as it was usually called. He had been in the habit of
+spending a few days of his vacations there for years, and was in a
+position to enlighten Georgy about her distant cousin and mine, Helen
+Floyd, Mr. Raymond's probable heiress. Perhaps he liked to tease Georgy,
+yet it is possible that the little daughter of Mr. Floyd, growing up in
+the quiet, stately place, really possessed something already to arouse
+Tony's admiration for a child ten years old; but he would dwell upon her
+beauty, her brilliant prospects in the future and the grandeur of her
+present possessions, until Georgy was enraged with him. The train was
+perhaps already laid in the mind of the young girl which led up to a
+magazine of hatred and anger against more successful mortals, and needed
+but a chance spark to light it. She made a rival of little Helen Floyd
+at once, and every action of her life became infused with ambitious
+desires to surpass her in some way. She besieged me with questions
+concerning my guardian, his ideas, views, tastes and habits, and beset
+me feverishly to use<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> my influence to get her invited to The Headlands.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Floyd's visits became more and more frequent as the summer advanced,
+and I began with some jealousy to notice a growing change in my mother.
+In former times she had shown an exquisite poise of strength and peace
+in every phase of her life, but of late she seemed possessed with a sort
+of girlish fluttering and disquiet: her eyes were dreamy and her voice
+softer and less decided in its inflexions, and her manner to me, instead
+of continuing its old noble habits of command, became timid and
+caressing, as if she were anxious to propitiate me. In the evenings,
+instead of sitting among us boys on the piazza, she would leave us and
+walk by herself under the laburnums in the garden; and if I followed her
+and put my arm about her, I found, with vague pain and rebellion at my
+heart, that although she amply responded to my tenderness, she had sweet
+and sacred thoughts that she was smiling over all by herself. It had
+been her wont to busy herself with housekeeping cares from morning until
+night: our income was small, and she was very busy, for she gave thought
+to everything and decided wisely upon the smallest matter. In these
+duties she had found pleasant occupation apparently: she had shown no
+fatigue, had marred nothing by impatience or over-haste&mdash;had judiciously
+studied how to manage every detail of our lives. Now all at once there
+seemed a little lassitude upon her: she left all questions concerning
+the housekeeping for her domestic, Ann, to decide; she would drop her
+sewing in her lap and fall into reverie, her cheeks crimsoning, her eyes
+growing dark and misty, and emerge into reality presently with a
+beautiful trembling smile on her lips. I grudged her those reveries and
+those smiles: I quaked at the thought that her heart was turning toward
+Mr. Floyd, much as I loved and venerated him. I knew that she had
+worshipped my father, and I wanted her to carry that one feeling supreme
+to the end of her days. <i>Cet &acirc;ge est sans piti&eacute;</i>. I realized nothing of
+the preciousness of those impulses which were quickening her again into
+happy youth: I realized nothing of her having been lonely&mdash;nothing of
+the pain and passion of longing which must have tried her through these
+eight years of widowhood, without any companionship save mine, with such
+cruel silence when she had been used to every tenderness, to constant
+loving flatteries, to gentlest ministrations&mdash;or I hope I should not so
+bitterly have resented this new hope of hers which made her almost
+afraid to look me in the face.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Floyd did not come he wrote frequently to my mother. I used to
+bring his letters to her with a swelling heart and bitter tears in my
+eyes; but she knew nothing of those tears, for she never looked up, nor
+when she took the letters did she read them before me. He wrote
+frequently to me as well as to her, but while her envelopes covered
+numerous well-filled pages, his notes to me were adorned with just one
+degree more ample verbiage than we use in a telegram.</p>
+
+<p>But nothing was said between us until one night early in September. It
+was a rainy evening, but so warm that both doors and windows stood wide
+open, and we heard the faint pattering music of the swift succeeding
+showers mingled with the monotonous chant of the katydids. My mother sat
+at the table with a pretence of work in her hands, but I saw that she
+trembled so much that she could not draw the thread. I had brought her
+in a letter at seven o'clock directed in Mr. Floyd's fine cramped
+handwriting, and I too had a note from him. My mother had taken hers
+from me with a devouring blush, and as if to hide it had thrust it
+beneath a pile of cambric ruffles on the table.</p>
+
+<p>Her look and manner had made me turn almost sick with pain, for it
+seemed to me she no longer loved or trusted me. I had lost everything, I
+told myself with profound dreariness. I laid my own letter from Mr.
+Floyd open in her lap without a word. It ran thus:</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Boy</span>: I have had a trying week: Helen has been at the
+point of death, and that she is now convalescent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> fills me with
+gratitude to God too great for words. I think she would have died if I
+had not been here. As soon as she is well I want you to spend a few
+weeks at The Headlands: you need the change, and my little girl needs a
+friend. Love to your dear mother and for yourself.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">James Floyd</span>."</p>
+
+<p>But although my mother took up the letter, something seemed to blind
+her: she could not read it, and put it by and resumed her work. We spent
+an hour in complete silence.</p>
+
+<p>"We are very dull," she said at last, looking over at me with a little
+trembling smile. "Have you nothing to tell me, Floyd?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you not read your letter, mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Floyd!" she cried, "it seems to me you are a little hard and cruel
+to me of late."</p>
+
+<p>"Read your letter, mother, and mine too. If it is impossible for you to
+open a letter from Cousin James before me, I will leave the room."</p>
+
+<p>She obeyed me, calmly taking her missive out from its hiding-place,
+opening it and reading it through: then she handed it to me with her old
+habit of command: "I wish you to read it, my boy."</p>
+
+<p>I did so: it was just as I had thought. Mr. Floyd loved her: he had
+spoken of his feelings many times, and was waiting for her answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little Helen!" said my mother tenderly. "I am so thankful she is
+better! You will like to go to The Headlands, Floyd? 'Tis a beautiful
+place: your father and I attended Cousin James's wedding there. I
+remember still how superb and stately the place was."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not feel as if I ever wanted to do anything any more, mother."</p>
+
+<p>She gave me a piteous glance, and her hands locked and unlocked as they
+lay together in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"I used to think you loved me, mother," I blurted out.</p>
+
+<p>In another moment she had me in her arms. There was no more doubt
+between us: she had given him up, and our old sweet, strong comradeship
+returned.</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Ellen W. Olney.</span></p>
+
+<p class='center'>[TO BE CONTINUED.]</p>
+
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><a name="THE_WASHER_AT_THE_WELL_A_BRETON_LEGEND" id="THE_WASHER_AT_THE_WELL_A_BRETON_LEGEND"></a>THE WASHER AT THE WELL: A BRETON LEGEND.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nigh a league to the castle still:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Twelve</i>! booms the bell from the old clock-tower.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now, brave mare, for the stretch up the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then just a gallop of half an hour.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Half an hour, and home and rest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is she watching for him on the oriel stair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or cradling the babe on her silken breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the hush of the drowsy chamber there?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hol&agrave;! steady, good Bonnibelle!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Scared at the wind, or the owlet's flight?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ha! what stirs by the Washing Well?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who goes there at the dead of night?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Over the stream below the slope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the women wash their webs at noon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A form like a shadow seems to grope,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Doubtful under the doubtful moon.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good mother, your task is late and lone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All goes well at the castle? say!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not a word speaks the withered crone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gray as a ghost in the moonlight gray.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stone-still over the running stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Steadily, swiftly, round and round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Plying her web through gloom and gleam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Out and in, with never a sound&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Never a sound save the blasted oak<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That shakes in the wind, and the bubbling well:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is no face of the peasant-folk!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With the sign of the cross he bars the spell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slowly, slowly she turns about:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Oh the creeping horror that chokes his breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As slowly she draws the linen out,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fashions its folds in guise of death&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Long and loose like a winding-sheet!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So sharp he pulls at the bridle-rein<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mare stands straight on her trembling feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Before she cowers to the ground again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now he knows, with a shudder of dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Ghost of the Well he has looked upon<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Washing the shroud for some one dead&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some one dear to him, dead and gone!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Well and washer and funeral-pall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swim under his sight in pale eclipse.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good God send that the shroud be small!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He bites the words in his bloodless lips.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Over the lonely moor alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Praying a prayer for the dearest life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stifling a cry for the dead unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Child or wife: is it child or wife?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Over the threshold and up the stair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And into the hush of the deathly room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To a motionless form in the midnight there<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Under the tapers' glimmering gloom;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the babe on her bosom&mdash;child and wife!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Child and wife! and his journey done.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hark! overhead, with a sullen strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The bell in the old clock-tower booms&mdash;<i>One!</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Kate Putnam Osgood.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="THE_REAL_PRISONER_OF_CHILLON_A_GENTLEMAN_GROSSLY_MISREPRESENTED" id="THE_REAL_PRISONER_OF_CHILLON_A_GENTLEMAN_GROSSLY_MISREPRESENTED"></a>THE REAL PRISONER OF CHILLON: A GENTLEMAN GROSSLY MISREPRESENTED.</h2></div>
+
+<p><a name="THE_CASTLE_OF_CHILLON" id="THE_CASTLE_OF_CHILLON"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 357px;">
+<a href="images/img63.jpg"><img src="images/img63th.jpg" width="357" height="400" alt="THE CASTLE OF CHILLON." title="THE CASTLE OF CHILLON." /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE CASTLE OF CHILLON.</span>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>"A character more celebrated than known" is Francis Bonivard, prior of
+St. Victor and Prisoner of Chillon. It is not by any intentional
+imposture on his part that he goes stalking through modern literature
+disguised in the character of hero, saint and martyr, and shouting in a
+hoarse chest-voice his "appeal from tyranny to God." In fact, if he
+could be permitted to revisit his cherished little shelf of books about
+which has grown the ample library of the University of Geneva, and view
+the various delineations of himself by artist, poet, and even serious
+historian, it would be delightful to witness his comical astonishment.
+Perhaps it is not to be laid to the fault of Lord Byron, who after
+visiting the old castle and its dungeon beguiled the hours of a rainy
+day at the inn at Ouchy with writing a poem concerning which he frankly
+confesses that he had not the slightest knowledge of its hero. Hobhouse,
+his companion, ought to have been better informed, but was not. If
+anybody is to blame, it is the recent writers, who do know the facts,
+but are unwilling to hurt so fine an heroic figure or to dethrone "one
+of the demigods of the liberal mythology." Enough to say that the Muse
+of History has been guilty of one of those practical jokes to which she
+is too much addicted, in dressing with tragic buskins and muffling in
+the cloak of a hero of melodrama, and so palming off for earnest on two
+generations of mankind, the drollest wag of the sixteenth century.</p>
+
+<p>A wild young fellow like Bonivard, with a lively appreciation of the
+ridiculous, could not fail to see the comic aspect of the fate which
+invested him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> with the spiritual and temporal authority and emoluments
+of the priory of St. Victor. This was a rich little Benedictine
+monastery just outside the eastern gate of Geneva, on the little knoll
+now crowned by the observatory, surrounded with walls and moat of its
+own, independent of the bishop of Geneva in spiritual matters, and in
+temporal affairs equally independent of the city: in fact, it was a
+petty sovereignty by itself, and its dozen of hearty, well-provided
+monks, though nominally under the rule of Cluny, were a law to
+themselves, and not a very rigid one either. The office of prior, by
+virtue of a little arrangement at Rome, descended to Bonivard from his
+uncle, immediately upon whose demise the young potentate of twenty-one
+took upon him the state and functions of his office in a way to show the
+monks of St. Victor that they had no King Log to deal with. The document
+is still extant, in the Latin of the period, in which Prior Bonivard
+ordains that every new brother at his initiation shall not only stand
+treat all round, but shall, at his own cost and charges, furnish every
+one of his brethren with a new cap. Another document of equal gravity
+makes new ordinances concerning the convent-kitchen, which seems to have
+been one of the good prior's most religious cares.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Not only his own
+subjects, but those of other jurisdictions, were made to feel the
+majesty of his sovereign authority. He would let them know that he had
+"just as much jurisdiction at St. Victor as the duke of Savoy had at
+Chamb&eacute;ry." He heard causes, sentenced to prison, even received
+ambassadors from his brother the duke, but not without looking sharply
+at their credentials. If these were wanting, the unfortunate wretches
+were threatened with the gallows as spies, and when they had been
+thoroughly frightened the monarch would indulge himself in the exercise
+of the sweetest prerogative of royalty, the pardoning power, and, when
+it was considered that the majesty of the state had been sufficiently
+asserted, would wind up with asking the whole company to dinner.</p>
+
+<p><a name="FRANCOIS_BONIVARD_THE_PRISONER_OF_CHILLON" id="FRANCOIS_BONIVARD_THE_PRISONER_OF_CHILLON"></a></p><div class="figright" style="width: 353px;">
+<a href="images/img65.jpg"><img src="images/img65th.jpg" width="353" height="400" alt="FRAN&Ccedil;OIS BONIVARD, &quot;THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.&quot;" title="" /></a>
+<span class="caption">FRAN&Ccedil;OIS BONIVARD, &quot;THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.&quot;<br />
+[From an old print in the Public Library of Geneva, never before
+copied.]</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It had been considered a clever stroke of policy, at a time when the
+dukes of Savoy and the bishops of Geneva, who agreed in nothing else,
+were plotting, together or separately, to capture and extinguish the
+immemorial liberties of the brave little free city, to get this
+fortified outpost before its very gate officered by a brilliant and
+daring young Savoyard gentleman, who would be bound to the duke by his
+nativity and to the Church by his office, and to both by his interests.
+To the dismay of bishop and duke, it appeared that the young prior, who
+had led a gay life of it at the University of Turin, had nevertheless
+read his classics to some purpose, and had come back with his head full
+of Plato and Plutarch and Livy and of theories of republican liberty. So
+that by putting him into St. Victor they had turned that little
+stronghold from an outpost of attack upon Geneva liberties into the
+favorite resort and rendezvous of all the young liberal leaders of that
+gay but gallant little republic, who found themselves irresistibly drawn
+to young Bonivard, partly as a republican and still more as a jolly good
+fellow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The first manifestation of his sympathies in that direction occurred
+soon after his installation as prior. His uncle on his deathbed had
+confessed to young Francis the burden on his conscience in that he had
+taken Church money and applied it to the making of a battery of
+culverins wherewith to levy war against one of his neighbors in the
+country; and bequeathed to his nephew the convent and the culverins,
+with the charge to melt down the latter into a chime of church-bells
+which should atone for his evil deeds. Not long after, Bonivard was
+telling the story to his friend Berthelier, the daring and heroic leader
+of the "Sons of Geneva" in their perilous struggle against tyranny, when
+the latter exclaimed, "What! spoil good cannon to make bells? Never!
+Give us the guns, and you shall have old metal to make bells enough to
+split your ears. But let guns be guns. So the Church will be doubly
+served. There will be chimes at St. Victor and guns in Geneva, which is
+a Church city." The bargain was struck, as a vote in the records of the
+city council shows to this day. But it was the beginning of a quarrel
+with the duke of Savoy which was to cost Bonivard more than he had
+counted on. There was reckless deviltry enough among all these young
+liberals, but some of them&mdash;not Bonivard&mdash;were capable of seriously
+counting the cost of their game. On one occasion&mdash;it was at the
+christening of Berthelier's child, and Bonivard was
+godfather&mdash;Berthelier took his friend aside from the guests and said,
+"It is time we had done with dancing and junketing and organized for the
+defence of liberty."&mdash;"All right!" said the prior. "Come on, and may the
+Lord prosper our crazy schemes!" Berthelier took his hand, and with a
+serious look that sobered the rattle-headed ecclesiastic for a moment,
+replied, "But let me warn you that this is going to cost you your living
+and me my head."&mdash;"I have heard him say this a hundred times," says
+Bonivard in his <i>Chronicles</i>. The dungeon at Chillon and the mural
+tablet in the Tour de l'Isle at Geneva tell how truly the prophecy was
+fulfilled.</p>
+
+<p>There was so little of the strut of the stage-hero about Bonivard that
+he could not be comfortable in doing a chivalrous thing without a joke
+to take off the gloss of it. Before the ducal party had quite given up
+hopes of him there was a serious affair on their hands&mdash;the need of
+putting out of the way by such means, treacherous and atrocious, as the
+Savoyards of that day loved to use, one of the noblest of the Geneva
+magistrates, Aim&eacute; L&eacute;vrier. An emissary of the duke, of high rank,
+kinsman to Bonivard, came to St. Victor and offered the prior
+magnificent inducements to aid in the plot. With a gravity that must
+have convulsed the spectators if there had been any, Bonivard pointed to
+his monastic gown, his prayer-book and his crucifix, and pleaded his
+deep sense of the sacredness of his office as a reason for having
+nothing to do with the affair. "Then," says his kinsman, rising in
+wrath, "I will do the business myself. I'll have L&eacute;vrier out of his bed
+and over in Savoy this very night."&mdash;"Do you really mean it, uncle? Give
+me your hand!"&mdash;"Then you consent, after all, to help me in the
+matter?"&mdash;"Oh no, uncle: that isn't it. But I know these Genevese are a
+hasty sort of folk, and I am just going to raise thirty florins to be
+spent in saying masses to-morrow for the repose of your soul." Before
+the evening was over, Bonivard found an opportunity of slipping in
+disguise over to the house of L&eacute;vrier and giving a hint of what was
+intended: the notes of preparation for resistance that Berthelier and
+his friends began at once to make wrought upon the excited nerves of the
+ambassador and his armed retinue to such a point that they were fain to
+escape from the town by a secret gate before daylight.</p>
+
+<p>The affair of his rescue of Pecolat is another illustration of his
+character and of the strange, turbulent age in which he lived; and it
+went far to embitter the hatred of the duke and the bishop against him.
+This poor fellow was the jester, song-singer and epigrammatist of the
+madcap patriots who were associated under the title of "Sons of Geneva."
+Under a trumped-up charge of plotting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> the death of the bishop he was
+kidnapped and carried away to one of the castles in the neighborhood,
+and there tortured until a false confession was wrung from him
+implicating Berthelier and others. To secure his condemnation to death
+he was brought back into the city and presented before the court; but
+the sight of the poor cripple, racked and bruised with recent tortures,
+and his steadfastness in recanting his late confession, wrought more
+with the judges than the fear of the duke, and he was acquitted. But the
+feeble and ferocious bishop, moved partly by malignity and partly, no
+doubt, by sincere and cowardly terror, was resolved to kill him; and by
+some fiction declaring him to have been in the minor orders, he clapped
+him into the bishop's prison, claiming to try him by ecclesiastical law.
+The story of renewed tortures inflicted on their helpless comrade, and
+their knowledge of the certain death that awaited him, stirred the blood
+of the patriots of Geneva. It was just the moment for the prior of St.
+Victor to show that the studies at Freiburg and Turin that had made him
+<i>doctor utriusque juris</i> had not been in vain. He would fight the bishop
+with his own weapon of Church law. He despatched Pecolat's own brother
+with letters to the archbishop of Vienne, metropolitan to the bishop of
+Geneva, and, using his family influence, which was not small, he secured
+a summons to the bishop and chapter of Geneva to appear before the
+archiepiscopal court and give account of the affair, and meanwhile to
+cease all proceedings against the prisoner.</p>
+
+<p><a name="THE_DUNGEON_OF_BONIVARD" id="THE_DUNGEON_OF_BONIVARD"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<a href="images/img68.jpg"><img src="images/img68th.jpg" width="400" height="241" alt="THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD." title="THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD." /></a>
+<span class="caption">THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD.</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was comparatively easy to procure the summons. The difficulty was to
+find some one competent to the functions of episcopal usher and bold
+enough to serve it. Bonivard bethought him of a "caitiff wretch"&mdash;an
+obscure priest&mdash;to whom he handed the document with two round dollars
+lying on it, and bade him hand the paper to the bishop at mass the next
+day in the cathedral. The starving clergyman hesitated long between his
+fears and his necessities, but finally promised to do the work on
+condition that the prior should stand by him in person and see him
+through. The hour approached, and the commissioner's courage was oozing
+rapidly away. His knees knocked together, and he slipped back in the
+crowd, hoping to escape. The vigilant prior darted after him, seized
+him, and laying his hand on the dagger that he wore under his robe
+whispered in his ear, "Do it or I'll stab you!" He adds, in his
+<i>Chronicles</i>, "I should have been as good as my word: I do not say it by
+way of boasting. I know I was acting like a fool, but I was quite beside
+myself with anxiety for my friend." Happily, there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> was no need of
+extreme measures. He gripped his terrified victim by the thumb, and as
+the procession moved toward the church-door he thrust the paper into his
+hand, saying, "Now's the time! You've got to do it." And all the time he
+held him fast by the thumb. The bishop came near, and Bonivard let go
+the wretch's thumb and pushed him to the front, pointing to the prelate
+and saying, "Do your work!" The bishop turned pale with terror of
+assassination as he heard the words. But the trembling clerk, not less
+terrified than the bishop, dropped on his knees and presented the
+archiepiscopal mandate, gasping out, "My lord, <i>inhibitur vobis, prout
+in copia</i>." Bonivard retreated into his inviolable sanctuary of St.
+Victor. "I was young enough and crazy enough," he says, "to fear neither
+bishop nor duke." He had saved poor Pecolat's life, although the work
+was not finished until the publication of an interdict from the
+metropolitan silencing every church-bell and extinguishing every
+altar-candle in the city had brought the bishop to terms.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p>
+
+<p>It is a hardship to the writer to be compelled to retrench the story of
+the early deeds for liberty of Bonivard and his boon companions. There
+is a rollicking swagger about them all, which by and by begins to be
+sobered when it is seen that on the side of the oppressor there is
+<i>power</i>. By violence, by fraudulent promises, by foul treachery on the
+part of cowardly citizens, the duke of Savoy gains admittance with his
+army within the walls of Geneva, and begins his delicious and bloody
+revenge for the indignities that have been put upon his pretensions and
+usurpations. Berthelier, a very copy from the antique&mdash;a hero that might
+have stepped forth into the sixteenth century from the page of
+Plutarch<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>&mdash;remained in the town serenely to await the death which he
+foreknew. On the day of the duke's entrance Bonivard, who had no such
+relish for martyrdom for its own sake, put himself between two of his
+most trusted friends, the lord of Voruz and the abbot of Montheron of
+the Pays de Vaud, and galloped away disguised as a monk. "Come first to
+my convent," said the abbot, "and thence we will take you to a place of
+safety." The convent was reached, and in the morning Bonivard was
+greeted by his comrade Voruz, who came into his room, and, laying paper
+and pen before him, required him to write a renunciation of his priory
+in favor of the abbot of Montheron. Resistance was vain. He was a
+prisoner in the hands of traitors. The alternative being "Your priory or
+your life!" he frankly owns that he required no time at all to make up
+his choice. Voruz took the precious document, with the signature still
+wet, and went out, double locking the door behind him. His two friends
+turned him over to the custody of the duke, who locked him up for two
+years at Grol&eacute;e, one of his castles down the Rhone, and put the honest
+abbot of Montheron in possession of the rich living of St. Victor.</p>
+
+<p>But Bonivard in his prison was less to be pitied than the citizens of
+Geneva who remained in their subjugated city. The two despots, the
+bishop and the duke, who had seized the unhappy town, combined to crush
+the gay and insubordinate spirit out of it. All this time, says
+Bonivard, "they imprisoned, they scourged, they tortured, they beheaded,
+they hung, so as it is pitiful to tell."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the influential family friends of Bonivard, some of them high
+in court favor, discovering that he was yet alive and in prison,
+bestirred themselves to procure his liberation; and not in vain, for the
+possession that had made him dangerous, the priory of St. Victor, having
+been wrested from him, there was little harm that he could do. His
+immediate successor in the priory, good Abbot de Montheron, had not
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>indeed long enjoyed the benefice. He had gone on business to Rome,
+where certain Churchmen who admired his new benefice invited him (so
+Bonivard tells the story) to a banquet <i>more Romano</i>, and gave him a
+dose of the "cardinal powder," which operated so powerfully that it
+purged the soul right out of the body. He left a paper behind him in
+which, as a sign of remorse for his crime, he resigned all his rights in
+the priory back to Bonivard.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> But the pope, whose natural affection
+toward his cousins and nephews overflowed freely in the form of gifts of
+what did not belong to him, bestowed the living on a cousin, who
+commuted it for an annual revenue of six hundred and forty gold
+crowns&mdash;a splendid revenue for those days&mdash;and poor Bonivard, whose sole
+avocation was that of gentleman, found it difficult to carry on that
+line of business with neither capital nor income. He came back, some
+five years later, into possession of the priory. They were five years of
+exciting changes, of fierce terrorism and oppression at Geneva, followed
+by a respite, a rallying of the spirit of the people, an actual recovery
+of some of the old rights of the city, and, presently, by the beginning
+of some signs of religious light coming from the direction of Germany.
+And the way in which Bonivard at last got reinstalled into his convent
+is curiously illustrative of the strange condition of society in those
+times. One May morning in 1527 the little town was all agog with strange
+news from Rome. The Eternal City had been taken by storm, sacked,
+pillaged, burned! The Roman bishop was prisoner to the Roman emperor, if
+indeed he was alive at all. In fact, there was a rumor&mdash;dreadful, no
+doubt, but attended by vast consolations&mdash;that the whole court of Rome
+had perished. Immediately there was a rush to the bishop's palace, and a
+scramble for the vacant livings in the diocese that had been held by
+absentees at Rome. The bishop, delighted at such a windfall of
+patronage, dispensed his favors right and left, not forgetting, says
+Bonivard, to reserve something comfortable for himself in the shape of
+a fat convent that had been held by a cardinal. This was Bonivard's
+opportunity, and, times and the bishop having changed, he got back once
+more into his cherished quarters as prior of St. Victor. The convent was
+there, and the friars, but the estates that had been wont to keep them
+all right royally were mostly in the hands of the duke and his minions.
+It is in the effort to recover these that Bonivard shines out in his
+most magnificent character, that of military hero. The campaign of
+Cartigny includes the most memorable of his feats of arms.</p>
+
+<p>Cartigny was an estate about six miles down the left bank of the Rhone
+from Geneva, appertaining to St. Victor. "It was a chastel of
+pleasaunce, not a forteresse," says our hero, who is the Homer of his
+own brave deeds. But the duke kept a garrison there, and to every demand
+the prior made for his place he replied that he did not dare give it up
+for fear of being excommunicated by the pope. Rent-time came, and the
+Savoyard government enjoined the tenants not to pay to the prior.
+Whereupon that potentate declared that, being refused civil justice, he
+"fell back on the law of nations."</p>
+
+<p>The military resources of his realm were limited. He counted ten
+able-bodied subjects, but they were monks and not liable to service. The
+culverins of his uncle were gone, but he had six muskets&mdash;a loan from
+the city&mdash;and there were four pounds of powder in the magazine. But this
+was not of itself sufficient for a war against the duke of Savoy. He
+must subsidize mercenaries.</p>
+
+<p>About this time there chanced to be at Geneva a swashbuckler from Berne,
+Bischelbach by name, by trade a butcher, who had found the new r&eacute;gime of
+the Reformers at that city too strait-laced for his tastes and habits,
+and had come to Geneva, with some vagabonds at his heels, in search of
+adventures and a livelihood. Him did the prior of St. Victor, greatly
+impressed with his own accounts of his powers, commission as
+generalissimo of the forces. Second in command he set a priest, likewise
+just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> thrown out of business by the Reformation in the North; and in a
+council of war the plan of campaign was determined. But before the
+actual clash of arms began the solemn preliminaries usual between
+hostile powers must be scrupulously fulfilled. A herald was commissioned
+to make proclamation in the name of the lord of St. Victor, through all
+the lands of Cartigny, that no man should venture to execute there any
+orders, whether of pope or duke, under penalty of being hung. This
+energetic procedure struck due terror, for when Bonivard's captain with
+several soldiers appeared before the castle it capitulated without a
+blow.</p>
+
+<p>It was a brief though splendid victory. The very first raid in which the
+"Knights of the Spoon"&mdash;an association of neighboring country
+gentlemen&mdash;harried that region they found that the captain and entire
+garrison of the castle had gone to market (not without imputations of
+treason), leaving the post in charge of one woman, who promptly
+surrendered.</p>
+
+<p>The sovereign of St. Victor's blood was up. He resolved to draw, if need
+were, on the entire resources of his realm. The army was promptly
+reinforced to twenty men, and Bonivard took the field in person at the
+head of his forces. On what wise this array debouched in two corps
+d'arm&eacute;e one Sunday morning from two of the gates of Geneva; how the
+junction of the forces was effected; the military history of the march;
+how they appeared, at last, before the castle of Cartigny,&mdash;are these
+not written by the pen of the hero himself in his <i>Chronicles</i> of
+Geneva? But Bonivard, though brave, was merciful. Willing to spare the
+effusion of blood, he sent the general-in-chief, Bischelbach, with his
+servant, Diebolt, as an interpreter, to summon the castle. The answer
+was a shot that knocked poor Diebolt over with a mortal wound; whereupon
+the attacking army fell back in a masterly manner into the woods and
+made good their way into Geneva, bringing one prisoner, whom they had
+caught unarmed near the castle, and leaving Diebolt to die at a roadside
+inn.</p>
+
+<p>We may not further narrate the deeds of Bonivard as a martial hero,
+though they are neither few nor uninteresting.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> But he is equally
+worthy of himself as a religious reformer. It was about this time that
+the stirrings of religious reformation at Berne and elsewhere began to
+be heard at Geneva, and the thought began to be seriously entertained by
+some of the patriotic "Sons of Geneva" that perhaps that liberty for
+which they had dared and suffered so much in vain might best come with
+that gospel which had wrought such wonders in other communities. There
+was one man who could advise them what to do; and they went together
+over to the convent and sought audience and ghostly counsel of the
+prior. "We are going to have done with all popish ceremonies," said
+they, "and drive out the whole rabble-rout of papistry, monks, priests
+and all: then we mean to send for gospel ministers to introduce the true
+Christian Reformation." It is pleasant to imagine the expression of
+Bonivard's countenance as he replied to his ardent friends: "It is a
+very praiseworthy idea. There is no doubt that all these ecclesiastics
+sadly need reformation. I am one of them myself. But who is to do the
+reforming? Whoever it is, they had better begin operations on
+themselves. If you are so fond of the gospel, why don't you practise it?
+It looks as if you did not so much love the gospel as you hate us. And
+what do you hate us for? It is not because we are so different from you,
+but because we are so like. You say we are a licentious lot; well, so
+are you. We drink hard; so do you. We gamble and we swear; but what do
+you do, I should like to know? Why should you be so hard on us? We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
+don't interfere with your little enjoyments: for pity's sake, don't
+meddle with ours. You talk about driving us out and sending for the
+Lutheran ministers. Gentlemen, think twice before you do it. They will
+not have been here two years before you will wish they were gone. If you
+dislike us because we are too much like you, you will detest them
+because they are so different from you. My friends, do one thing or the
+other. Either let us alone, or, if you must do some reforming, try it on
+yourselves."</p>
+
+<p>Thus did this excellent pastor, in the spirit of the gospel injunction
+to count the cost, give spiritual counsel to those who sought
+reformation of the Church. "I warrant you," he wrote concerning them,
+"they went off with their tails between their legs. I am as fond of
+reformation as anybody, but I am a little scrupulous as to who shall
+take it in hand."<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p>
+
+<p>Bonivard's harum-scarum raids into the duke of Savoy's dominions after
+rents or reprisals at last became so embarrassing to his Geneva friends
+that, much as they enjoyed the fun of them, it became necessary to say
+to the good monk that this sort of thing really must stop; and feeling
+the force of his argument, that he must have <i>something</i> to live on, the
+city council allowed its neighboring potentate a subvention of four
+crowns and a half monthly to enable him to keep up a state worthy of the
+dignity of a sovereign. He grumbled at the amount, but took it; and
+thereafter the peace of Europe was less disturbed on his part.</p>
+
+<p>But bad news came to the gay prior in his impoverished monastery. His
+mother was ill at his old home at Seyssel in Savoy, and he must see her
+before she died. It was venturing into the tiger's den, as all his
+friends told him, and as he did not need to be told. But he thought he
+would adventure it if he could get a safe-conduct from the tiger. The
+matter was arranged: the duke sent Bonivard his passport, limited to a
+single month; and the prior arrived at Seyssel, and nearly frightened
+the poor old lady out of her last breath with her sense of the peril to
+which he had exposed himself.</p>
+
+<p>Our hero's incomparable genius for getting himself into difficulties
+never shone more brightly than at this hour. While here in the country
+of his mortal enemy, on the last days of his expiring safe-conduct, he
+got news of accusations gravely sustained at Geneva that he had gone
+over into Savoy to treat with the enemy. He did not dare to stay: he did
+not dare to go back. If he could get his safe-conduct extended for one
+month, to the end of May, he would try to make his way through the Pays
+de Vaud (then belonging to Savoy) to Fribourg in the Swiss
+Confederation. The extension was granted, and with many assurances of
+good-will from friends of the duke he pushed on. It was a fine May
+morning, the 26th, that he was on his last day's journey to Lausanne,
+and passing through a pine wood. Suddenly men sprang from ambush upon
+Bonivard, who grasped his sword and spurred, calling to his guide, "Put
+spurs!" But instead of so doing the guide turned and whipped out his
+knife and cut Bonivard's sword-belt; "Whereupon these worthy gentlemen,"
+says Bonivard's <i>Chronicle</i>, "jumped on me and took me prisoner in the
+name of my lord duke." Safe-conducts were in vain. A bagful of ropes was
+produced, and he was carried on a mule, bound hand and foot, in secrecy,
+to the duke's castle of Chillon, the captain of which was one of the
+ambuscading party. For six years he was hidden from the world, and at
+first men knew not whether he was alive or dead. But his sufferings at
+the hand of the common foe put to shame the suspicions that had been
+engendered at Geneva, and it is recorded, to the honor of the Genevese,
+that during all that period, whenever negotiations were opened between
+them and the duke of Savoy, the liberation of Bonivard was always
+insisted on as one of the conditions.</p>
+
+<p>The story of the imprisonment is soon told; for, strangely enough, this
+most garrulously egotistical of writers never alludes to it but twice,
+and then briefly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> The first two years he was kept in the upper chambers
+of the castle and treated kindly, but at the end of this time the castle
+received a visit from the duke, and from that time forth the Prisoner of
+Chillon was remanded to the awful and sombre crypt. A single sentence in
+his handwriting is all that he tells us of this period, of which he
+might have told so much, and in this he shows a disposition to look at
+the affair rather in its humorous than in its Byronesque aspect. For his
+one recorded reminiscence of his four years of dungeon-life is, that "he
+had such abundant leisure for promenading that he wore in the rock
+pavement a little path as neatly as if it had been done with a
+stone-hammer."<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p>
+
+<p>One March morning in 1536 the Prisoner of Chillon heard through the
+windows of his dungeon the sound of a cannonade by land and lake. It was
+the army of Berne, which was finishing its victorious campaign through
+the Pays de Vaud by the siege of the duke's last remaining stronghold,
+the castle of Chillon. They were joyfully aided by a flotilla fitted out
+by Geneva, which had never forgotten its old friend. That night the
+dungeon-door was burst open, and Bonivard and three fellow-prisoners
+were carried off in triumph to Geneva.</p>
+
+<p>Not Rip Van Winkle when he awoke from his long slumber in the Catskills,
+not the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus when they came back from their
+sepulchre and found their city Christian, had a better right to be
+surprised than the prior of St. Victor when he got back to Geneva. Duke
+and bishop and all their functionaries were expelled; priests and
+preaching-friars were gone; the mass was abolished; in the cathedral of
+St. Peter's and all the lesser churches, which had been cleared of
+their images, there were singing of psalms and preaching of fiery
+sermons by Reformers from France; and the streets through which he had
+sometimes had to move by stealth were filled with joyous crowds to hail
+him as a martyr. St. Victor was no more. If he went to look for his old
+home, he found a heap of rubbish, for all the suburbs of the city that
+might give shelter to an enemy had been torn down by the unsparing
+patriots of Geneva, and the trees had been felled. The joyous city had
+ceased, and Bonivard's prophecy to his roystering companions was not
+long in being fulfilled for himself as well as for them: they soon found
+Calvin's little finger to be heavier than the bishop's loins.</p>
+
+<p>And yet the heroic little town showed a noble gratitude toward the old
+friend of its liberties. The house which he chose out of all the city
+was given him for his own and furnished at the public expense. A pension
+of two hundred crowns a year in gold was settled on him, and he was made
+a senator of the republic. To all which was added a condition that he
+should lead a respectable life&mdash;a proviso which is practically explained
+in the very next appearance of his name in the records on account of a
+misdemeanor for which his accomplice was ordered to quit the town within
+three days.</p>
+
+<p>The more generous was the town the more exacting became the Martyr. He
+could not get over his free-and-easy way of living in the gay old days
+when the tithes of his benefice yielded him nigh a thousand yellow
+crowns a year. He could not see why he was not entitled to have his
+rents back again; and after a vain effort on the part of the council to
+make him see it, he went off to Berne, where he had been admitted a
+citizen, to ask it to interfere for him, sending back an impudent letter
+renouncing his Geneva citizenship, on the ground that in his reduced
+circumstances he could not afford to be a citizen in two places at once.
+For a while the patient city lost its patience with its unruly
+beneficiary, but the genuine grateful and kindly feeling that every one
+felt for the poor fellow, and the general admiration for his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>learning
+and wit, conspired with his growing embarrassments to bring about a
+settlement of the affair on the basis of a reduced pension with a round
+lump sum to pay his debts.</p>
+
+<p>They sent for him two or three years later to come to Geneva as
+historiographer, and he came, bringing with him a wife from Berne, who
+died soon after his arrival. For a man of his years, he had a remarkable
+alacrity at getting married, and his second venture was an unlucky one.
+For from the wedding-day onward, when he was not before the council with
+some quarrel or some affair of debt he was apt to come before it to get
+them to compel his wife to live with him, or, failing that, to get her
+money to live on himself. What time could be saved from these
+wranglings, which lasted almost till the poor woman's death, was devoted
+ardently to his literary work. The history grew apace, and other books
+besides. In the seditions of the Libertine party against the austerities
+of the new r&eacute;gime the old man took the side of law and order and good
+morals (in his book on <i>L'ancienne et nouvelle Police de Gen&egrave;ve</i>) with
+an ardor that was the more surprising as one remembered his antecedents.
+In the midst of his toils he found time to get married to a third wife
+and to go to law with his neighbors. He is continually coming to the
+council, sometimes for a little loan to help him with his lawsuits,
+sometimes for relief in his embarrassments. It is touching to see how
+tender they are toward the poor foolish old man. They make him little
+grants from time to time, always looking to it that their money shall be
+applied to the object designated, and not "on his fantasies." They take
+up one of his notes for him, looking to see that it has not been
+tampered with, because "he is easily circumvented and not adroit in his
+business." He complains of the heat during an illness one summer, and
+the seigneurie give him the White Chamber in the town-hall, and when
+winter comes on, and he is old and infirm, they assign him the lodging
+lately occupied by Mathurin Cordier (famous schoolmaster Corderius,
+whose <i>Dialogues</i> were the first book in Latin of our grandfathers),
+because it contained a stove&mdash;a rare luxury. He thanks them for their
+kindness as his fathers, and makes them heirs of his library and
+manuscripts.</p>
+
+<p>There was another and more solemn assemblage, his relations with which
+were less tender. This was the consistory of the Church, which found it
+less easy to allow for the old man's infirmities. His first appearance
+before this body was under accusation of playing at dice with Clement
+Marot, another famous character and the sweet singer of the French
+Reformation. He comes next time of his own accord, asking the venerable
+brethren to interfere because his second wife ran away from him on their
+wedding-day, she defending herself on the ground of a bad cold. His
+domestic troubles bring him thither so often as to put the clergy out of
+patience. He is called up for beating his wife, but shows that the
+discipline was needed, and she is admonished to be more obedient in
+future. Later on he is questioned why he does not come to church. He
+can't walk, is the answer. But he is told that if he can get himself
+carried to the h&ocirc;tel de ville to see the new carvings, he could get
+carried to church. And why does he neglect the communion? <i>Answer</i>: He
+has been debarred from it. "Then present your request to be restored."
+So the poor old gentleman presents himself six weeks later, asking to be
+readmitted to the Church; which is granted, but with the remark, entered
+on the record, that he "does not show much contrition in coming with a
+bunch of flowers over his ear&mdash;a thing very unbecoming in a man of his
+years."</p>
+
+<p>The dreadful consistory had a principal concern in the affair that
+darkened the declining days of Bonivard with the shadow of a tragedy. An
+escaped nun had found refuge in his lodgings after his third wife's
+death; and after some love-making&mdash;on which side was disputed&mdash;there was
+a promise of marriage given by him, which, however, he was in no hurry
+to fulfil. The consistory deemed it best to interfere, in the interests
+of propriety, and insist on the marriage; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> the decrepit old invalid
+in vain pleaded his age and bodily infirmities. So he was married in
+spite of himself to his nun, and showed his disposition to make the best
+of it by making her a wedding-present of his new Latin treatise, just
+finished, on <i>The Origin of Evil</i>, and receiving in tender return a
+Greek copy of the <i>Philippics</i> of Demosthenes. Three years later the
+wretched woman was accused of adultery, and being put to the torture
+confessed her crime and was drowned in a sack, while her paramour was
+beheaded. Bonivard, being questioned, declared his belief of her
+innocence, and that her worst faults were that she wanted to make him
+too pious, and tormented him to begin preaching, and sometimes beat him
+when he had a few friends in to drink.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></p>
+
+<p>For five years after this catastrophe the old man lingered, tended by
+hirelings, but watched with filial gratitude by the little state whose
+liberties he had helped to save, and whose heroic history he had
+recorded. He had at least the comfort of having finished that great
+work; and when he brought the manuscript of it to the council, they
+referred it to a committee with Master Calvin at the head; who reported
+that it was written in a rude and familiar style, quite beneath the
+dignity of history, and that for this and other reasons it had better
+not be printed. The precious manuscript was laid on the shelf until in
+the lapse of years it was found that the very reasons why those solemn
+critics rejected it were the things that gave it supreme value to a
+later age. It has been the pride of Geneva scholars to print in elegant
+archaic style every page written by the Prisoner of Chillon in prose or
+verse, on history, polity, philology and theology.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere about September, 1570, Francis Bonivard died, aged
+seventy-seven, lonely and childless, leaving the city his heir. The
+cherished collection of books that was the comfort of his harassed life
+has grown into the library of a university, and the little walled town
+for whose ancient liberties he ventured such perils and suffered such
+imprisonment is, and for the three hundred years since has been, one of
+the chief radiant centres of light and liberty for all the world.
+<span class="smcap">Leonard Woolsey Bacon</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Note</span>.&mdash;Like every subject relating to the history of
+Geneva, the life of Bonivard has been thoroughly studied by local
+antiquarians and historians. The most important work on the
+subject is that of Dr. Chaponni&egrave;re, before cited: this is
+reprinted (but without the documents attached) as a preface to
+the new edition of the <i>Chronicles</i>. M. Edmond Chevrier, in a
+slight pamphlet (Macon, 1868), gives a critical account both of
+the man and of his writings. Besides these may be named
+Vulliemin: <i>Chillon, &Eacute;tude historique</i>, Lausanne, 1851; J.
+Gaberel: <i>Le Ch&acirc;teau de Chillon et Bonivard</i>, Geneva. Marc
+Monnier, <i>Gen&egrave;ve et ses Po&euml;tes</i> (Geneva, 1847), gives an
+excellent criticism on Bonivard as author. For original materials
+consult (besides the work of Chaponni&egrave;re) Galiffe: <i>Mat&eacute;riaux
+pour l'Histoire de Gen&egrave;ve</i>, and Cramer: <i>Notes extraites des
+Registres du Consistoire</i>, a rare book in lithography (Geneva,
+1853). A weak little article in the <i>Catholic World</i> for
+September, 1876, bravely attacks Bonivard as "one of the
+Protestant models of virtue," and triumphantly proves him to have
+been far from perfect. The charge, however, that he was "a
+traitor to his ecclesiastical character," and "quitted his
+convent and broke his vows," is founded on a blunder. Bonivard
+never took monastic vows or holy orders, but held his living <i>in
+commendam</i>, as a lay-man. The main resource, however, for
+Bonivard's life up to his liberation from Chillon is in his own
+works, especially the <i>Chronicles</i> (Geneva, edition Fick, 1867).</p></div>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="FOR_PERCIVAL" id="FOR_PERCIVAL"></a>"FOR PERCIVAL."</h2></div>
+
+
+
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3>
+
+<h4>WHY NOT LOTTIE?</h4>
+
+<p><a name="LOTTIE" id="LOTTIE"></a></p><div class="figleft" style="width: 168px;">
+<a href="images/img83.jpg"><img src="images/img83th.jpg" width="168" height="400" alt="WHY NOT LOTTIE?" title="" /></a>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was all over. The neighborhood had paid due honor to Godfrey Thorne.
+Old Garnett, who was kept at home by his gout, had written a letter of
+condolence to Mrs. Middleton, and expressed his deep regret at his
+enforced absence. She was pleased with the letter. She did not care for
+Dick Garnett, but he had known her brother all his life. She would not
+have been so pleased, perhaps, had she seen old Dick grinning and
+showing his fierce old teeth as he wrote it: "Ought to have been
+there&mdash;believe I was his best man fifty years ago. But half a century
+takes the shine out of most things&mdash;and people too." He shrugged his
+shoulders, eyed the last sentence he had written, and perceiving a
+little space at the end of a line, put in an adjective to make it rather
+warmer. "Won't show," he said to himself&mdash;"looks very natural. Lord!
+what a farce it all is! Fifty years ago there was Thorne, like a fool,
+worshipping the very ground Fanny Harvey trod on, and a few years later
+he wasn't particularly sorry to put her safe underneath it. Wonderful
+coal-scuttle of a bonnet she wore that wedding-day, to be sure! And I
+was best man!" Dick chuckled at the thought. "I shouldn't look much like
+best man now. Ah, well! I mayn't be best, but I'm a better man than old
+Godfrey to-day, anyhow." (And so, no doubt, for this world's affairs,
+Richard Garnett was, on the principle that "a living dog is better than
+a dead lion.") "And the candlemaker's daughter begins her reign, for
+that poor lad will never marry. Upon my word, I believe I'm a better man
+than Master Horace now. And I'm not likely to play the fool with
+physic-bottles, either: I know a little better than <i>that</i>." No, Aunt
+Harriet would not have liked Garnett's train of thought as he folded and
+addressed the letter which pleased her. And yet the old fellow meant the
+best he could.</p>
+
+<p>And now it was all over, and Brackenhill would know Godfrey Thorne no
+more. But for that one day he was still all-powerful, for they had met
+to hear his will read.</p>
+
+<p>Horace sat by the table with an angry line between his brows, and
+balanced a paper-knife on his finger. He tried to appear composed, but a
+shiver of impatience ran through him more than once, and the color came
+and went on his cheek. His mother was by his side, controlling her face
+to a rigidly funereal expression. But the effort was evident.</p>
+
+<p>Godfrey Hammond said to himself, "Those two expect the worst. And if the
+worst comes, if Percival is mistaken and Horace is cut off with just a
+pittance, we shall see what Hunting Harry's temper really is. We may
+have an unpleasant quarter of an hour, but it will give us a vivid idea
+of the end of the millennium, I fancy."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Harriet was unfeignedly troubled and anxious.</p>
+
+<p>Percival was rather in the background. Sitting on one chair, he laid his
+folded arms on the back of another and rested his chin on his wrists. In
+this attitude he gazed at Hardwicke with the utter calm of an Assyrian
+statue. He felt his pulses throbbing, and it seemed to him as if his
+anxiety must betray itself. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> it did not. If you have a little
+self-restraint and presence of mind you can affect to have much.
+Percival had that little.</p>
+
+<p>Just before Hardwicke began to read Mrs. James leant toward her son and
+whispered with an air of mystery. He answered with a short and sullen
+nod.</p>
+
+<p>Hardwicke read clearly but monotonously. The will was dated four days
+after Alfred Thorne's death&mdash;not only before Percival came to
+Brackenhill, but before any overtures had been made to him. Mrs.
+Middleton came first with a legacy of ten thousand pounds and a few
+things which the dead man knew she prized&mdash;their mother's portrait and
+one or two memorials of himself. Sissy had five thousand pounds and a
+small portion of the family jewels, which were very splendid. His
+godson, Godfrey Hammond, had three pictures and a ring, all of
+considerable value, and two or three other things, which, though of less
+importance, had been looked upon as heirlooms by successive generations
+of Thornes. Hammond perfectly understood the wilful pride and remorseful
+pangs with which that bequest was made.</p>
+
+<p>Then came small legacies to old friends. Duncan the butler and one or
+two of the elder servants had annuities, and the others were not
+forgotten. Two local charitable institutions had a hundred pounds each.
+By this time Horace was white to his very lips and drawing his breath
+painfully. Percival preserved an appearance of calm, but he could feel
+his strong, irregular heart-throbs as he leant against the chair.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer went on to read the words which gave Brackenhill to Horace
+for his life. If he died and left no son to inherit the estate, it was
+to go to Percival Thorne. But unless Horace died first, and died
+childless, Percival would not take sixpence under his grandfather's
+will.</p>
+
+<p>It was a heavy blow, and his lips and hands tightened a little as he met
+it. He had known that the great prize was for his cousin, but he had
+fancied that there might be some trifling legacy for him. He would have
+been more thankful than words could say for half the annuity which was
+left to the butler. The remembrance of that paper which but for him
+would have been all powerful rose vividly before his eyes. Did he repent
+now that he was certain of the greatness of the sacrifice? Again from
+the bottom of his heart he answered, No. But even while Hardwicke read
+the words which doomed him to beggary it almost seemed to young Thorne
+as if the wrinkled waxen face and shrunken figure must suddenly become
+visible in the background to protest&mdash;as if a dead hand must be laid on
+that lying will which was itself more dead than the newly-buried corpse.
+Even in that bitter moment Percival was sorry for the poor old squire.</p>
+
+<p>Hardwicke finished, and thought it all very well. He did not pity the
+young fellow opposite him who had listened so intently and now was
+looking thoughtfully into space. The lawyer summed up Percival's
+position in his own mind thus:</p>
+
+<p>He had an income of his own, amount unknown, but as during Alfred
+Thorne's life it had sufficed for both, it must be more than enough to
+support the son.</p>
+
+<p>He was engaged to Sissy Langton. Her father had left her at least eight
+hundred pounds a year, besides which there were all the accumulations of
+a long minority and this legacy. Mr. Hardwicke thought that the united
+incomes would be more than fifteen hundred pounds a year.</p>
+
+<p>There were expectations too. Mrs. Middleton was rich, and though some of
+her property would revert to her husband's family, Hardwicke knew that
+she had saved a considerable sum. He had no doubt that those savings and
+her brother's ten thousand pounds would go to Sissy, and consequently to
+Percival.</p>
+
+<p>And lastly he looked at the new owner of Brackenhill. No, Mr. Hardwicke
+did not pity Mr. Percival Thorne.</p>
+
+<p>All these thoughts had flashed through his mind as he folded the paper
+and laid it down. Mrs. Middleton broke the silence. "But Percival&mdash;" she
+exclaimed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> in utter bewilderment: "I don't understand. What does
+Percival have?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," said the young man quickly, lifting his head and facing her
+with a brave smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing? It isn't possible! It isn't right!"</p>
+
+<p>"That will was made before ever I came here. It doesn't mean any
+unkindness to me, for he didn't know me."</p>
+
+<p>"But did he never make another?&mdash;Horace!&mdash;Oh, Mr. Hardwicke, <i>you</i> know
+Godfrey never meant this! That was what his letter was about, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"He intended to make some change, no doubt," said Hardwicke.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps Mr. Percival Thorne would like to dispute the will." It was
+evident that Mrs. James perfectly comprehended the position. Aunt
+Harriet looked helplessly at her boy, unable to understand his silence.</p>
+
+<p>Horace, though unconscious of the glance, rose suddenly to his feet. "I
+want to understand," he began in a high thin voice&mdash;an unnatural
+voice&mdash;which all at once grew hoarse.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;what?" said Hardwicke, looking up at the young man, who rested
+both his quivering hands on the table to support himself. All eyes were
+turned to the one erect figure.</p>
+
+<p>"That"&mdash;Horace nodded at the will&mdash;"that makes me master here, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly," Hardwicke replied, wondering whether Horace was unusually
+slow of comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing can alter it?" said Horace. "I may do what I please in
+everything? I want to be sure."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't sell it, if you mean that," said the lawyer. "Didn't you
+understand? You have only&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;I know that." The interruption was hasty, as if the speaker
+would not be reminded of an unpleasant truth.</p>
+
+<p>Hardwicke's eyes rested on the two hands which were pressed on the
+table. They were painfully weak and white. "You are master here," he
+said gently. "Certainly. Your grandfather has made no conditions
+whatever. Brackenhill is yours for your life."</p>
+
+<p>Horace looked fixedly at him, and half opened his lips as if to speak,
+but no sound came. It was so evident that he had something to say that
+the others waited in strained anxiety, and no one spoke except Mrs.
+James. She laid her fingers on his and said, "Now&mdash;why not now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me to manage it," he answered, and drew his hand away, provoking
+a lofty "Oh, <i>very</i> well!" He walked hurriedly to the hearth-rug and
+stood in the master's place with an air of having taken possession.
+Hardwicke moved his chair a little, so as to look sideways at the new
+squire: Hammond put up his glass.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. James was like a living explanation of the text, "As an adamant
+harder than flint have I made thy forehead." Though she was sulky and
+persistently silent, there was a lurking triumph in her eyes, and it was
+easy to see that she listened eagerly for the words which seemed to die
+on her son's lips. He glanced quickly round, stepped back, and rested
+his elbow on the chimney-piece so awkwardly that a small china cup fell
+and was shivered to atoms on the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Horace!" exclaimed Aunt Harriet.</p>
+
+<p>"It's mine," said the young man with a nervous little laugh. "And&mdash;since
+Brackenhill is mine too&mdash;it is time that my wife should come home."</p>
+
+<p>There was a startled movement and a sudden exclamation of surprise,
+though it would have been impossible to say who moved or spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Your wife! Do you mean that you are going to be married?" said
+Hardwicke.</p>
+
+<p>"No. I mean that I am married," Horace replied. "Oh, it's all right
+enough. I took care of that. You shall know all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"But how? when? who is she?" Mrs. Middleton had her hand on his arm and
+was stammering in her eagerness. "Oh, my dear boy, why didn't we know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because Mrs. Horace Thorne was Miss Adelaide Blake," said Hammond
+decisively.</p>
+
+<p>Horace turned upon him and said "No," and he was utterly confounded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But who, then? Tell us."</p>
+
+<p>Horace looked at Percival, the only one who had been silent. "Why not
+Lottie?" he said, and the tone was full of meaning.</p>
+
+<p>Percival stared at him for a moment, and then leapt to his feet. "It
+isn't true!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! And why not?" said Horace. "If I may ask&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie do anything underhand! Lottie! It can't be true!"</p>
+
+<p>"You're very kind, but Lottie doesn't want your championship, thank
+you," said Horace with an angry sneer. "No doubt you find it very
+incredible that she should prefer mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, by all means, if it suits her," scoffed Percival, and sat down
+again, feeling stunned, robbed and duped.</p>
+
+<p>"And as to anything underhand&mdash;" Horace began fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Harriet, scared by the menacing clash of words, uttered a faint
+little cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Percival! Horace!" said Godfrey Hammond, "you forget what day this
+is&mdash;you forget Mrs. Middleton. For God's sake don't quarrel before
+her!&mdash;Horace, is this really true? Is Lottie your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the young man, turning quickly toward him: there was a
+sudden light of tenderness in his glance&mdash;"since last November." He
+paused, and then added softly, "the third," as if the date were
+something sacred. "Hammond, you know her: you know how young she
+is&mdash;only eighteen this month. If you choose to blame any one, blame me.
+And I'm not ashamed of what I've done." He looked defiantly round. "I'm
+proud of having won her; and as to my having concealed it, I ask you, in
+common fairness, what else could I do? My grandfather used to be very
+good to me, but of late he was set against me." A quick glance at
+Percival, who smiled loftily. "Whatever I did was wrong. If I'd told him
+I was going to marry a princess, it wouldn't have satisfied him. Since
+this time last year I've hardly had a good word. I've been watched and
+lectured, and treated like an outsider here, in my own home. You know
+it's true, and you know to whom I owe it. I never expected to have my
+rights: I thought my grandfather would have no peace till I was driven
+out of Brackenhill. And even now I can't understand how it is that I am
+master here." Percival smiled again, to himself this time. "But Lottie
+was willing to share my poverty&mdash;God bless her!&mdash;and I won't let an hour
+go by without owning my wife. I should be ashamed of myself if I did."</p>
+
+<p>Horace paused, not unconscious of the weakness of his position, yet more
+like the Horace of old days to look at&mdash;flushed, with a happy loyalty in
+his eyes and his proud head high in the air.</p>
+
+<p>"No one will blame you for marrying the girl you loved," said Percival
+in his strong voice. "That is exactly what my father did. It is true
+that you manage matters in a different way, and naturally the result is
+different." He rose. "I prefer my father's way&mdash;result and all." And
+with a bow to the assembled company young Thorne walked out of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Horace looked round to see how the attack was received&mdash;at Aunt Harriet,
+who was wiping away the quick coming tears; at Hardwicke, who was
+looking at the door through which Percival had vanished; at Hammond, who
+came forward a step or two. "I ordered a dog-cart to come over from
+Fordborough for me," he said. "If you will allow me I will ring and have
+it brought round."</p>
+
+<p>"You are going?" said Horace.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall just catch the four-o'clock train very comfortably if we go
+now," Godfrey replied. "Thorne will prefer going by that."</p>
+
+<p>"I see: you take his part. Very well. I suppose sooner or later you must
+choose between us: as well now as later." Horace rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>"Horace," said Hammond, dropping his voice, yet speaking in the same
+tone of authority he had used once before that day, "for the first time
+in your life Mrs. Middleton is your guest. If you have a spark of right
+feeling&mdash;and you have more than that&mdash;you will not make her position
+here more painful than it must be. We will defer all discussion: there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+<i>must</i> be a truce while she is here.&mdash;My dog-cart," he said over his
+shoulder to the servant. "It was to come from Fordborough. At
+once.&mdash;Keep out of the way ten minutes hence when your cousin goes," he
+added to Horace: "it will be best."</p>
+
+<p>The young squire bent his head in sulky acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall take Percival with me," said Hammond to Mrs. Middleton as he
+went by. "He wants to be off, I know, and I shall be of more use with
+him than here."</p>
+
+<p>He found Percival crushing his things into his little portmanteau and in
+hot haste to get away from Brackenhill.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going by the four train," Hammond remarked, "and I've told them
+you'll drive with me."</p>
+
+<p>"In one of <i>his</i> carriages?" said young Thorne, looking up with furious
+eyes. "No, thank you: I'll walk."</p>
+
+<p>"If you jumped out of that window you wouldn't have to go down his
+staircase," said Hammond.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you came here to&mdash;" began the young man, tugging at a strap.</p>
+
+<p>"I came here to ask you to drive with me in the dog-cart from the Crown.
+It's no use pulling a strap <i>much</i> past the tightest hole. Come, you are
+not going to quarrel with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a fool," said Percival. "I shall feel it all in a minute or two, I
+suppose. Just now I only feel that everything belongs to the man who has
+duped me, and every breath I draw is choking me."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," returned Hammond. "Percival, Mrs. Middleton is coming: I
+hear her step. For her sake&mdash;to-day&mdash;Thorne, you will not break her
+heart?"</p>
+
+<p>The old lady was knocking at the half-open door. "Come in," said
+Percival in a gentle voice. His portmanteau was strapped, and he rose as
+she entered. "Come to say good-bye to me, Aunt Harriet? I'm off, you
+see."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Percival, I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "Horace
+married&mdash;<i>married</i>! And you going away like this! It is like a dream."</p>
+
+<p>"So it seems to me," said the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"And one of those Miss Blakes! Oh dear! what would Godfrey have said?
+Oh, Percival, he never meant this!" She had her hand to her forehead as
+she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Percival. "But don't fret about me: I shall do very well."</p>
+
+<p>"But it isn't right. Oh, I don't know what to say or think, I am so
+bewildered. Perhaps Horace has hardly had time to think yet, has he?"
+she said faintly. "He will do something, I'm sure&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He mustn't&mdash;don't let him! I can hold my tongue if I'm let alone. But
+if he insults me&mdash;" said Percival. "Aunt Harriet, for God's sake,
+<i>don't</i> let him offer me money."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" in an accent of pain. "But my money! Percival, do you want any?
+It's a good thing, as <i>he</i> said, that Mr. Lisle didn't fail before you
+came into yours, but if you want any&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't," said Percival. "As you say, it's a good thing I have some
+of my own." He had his fingers in his waistcoat pocket, and was
+wondering which of the coins that he felt there would prove to be gold.
+It was an important question. "Don't vex yourself about me, Aunt
+Harriet. Kiss me and say good-bye: there isn't much time, is there? Tell
+Sissy&mdash;" he stopped abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell her&mdash;I don't know. You'll let me hear how she is. You've been very
+good to me, Aunt Harriet. It's best as it is about Sissy, isn't it,
+seeing how things have turned out?"</p>
+
+<p>He caught up his luggage and went quickly out, but only to turn and
+pause irresolutely in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not say anything about Horace: we are best apart. But Lottie! I
+liked Lottie: we were very good friends when she was a school-girl. She
+is very young still. Perhaps she didn't understand. I ought to say this,
+because you never knew her, and I did."</p>
+
+<p>And having said it, he went away with a light on his sombre face. Mrs.
+Middleton looked up at Hammond with streaming eyes and shook her head:
+"I shall never like that girl: I shall never have anything to do with
+her. Godfrey was right."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"In what way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Percival was his favorite always."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll look after him," said Hammond; and with a quick pressure of her
+hand he followed the young man down stairs.</p>
+
+<p>As they drove away Percival sat erect and grave, with a face as darkly
+still as if it were moulded in bronze. He went away from the dear old
+house without one backward glance: Horace might be looking out. He never
+spoke, and when they reached the station he took his ticket and got into
+the carriage without the least reference to Hammond, who followed him
+quietly. There was no one else with them. The silence was unbroken till
+they drew near their journey's end, when Thorne took out his ticket and
+examined it curiously. "I wonder if I shall ever see another?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Another what?"</p>
+
+<p>"First-class ticket. I ought to have gone third."</p>
+
+<p>"You get an opportunity of studying character, no doubt. But I think
+this is better to-day," said Hammond.</p>
+
+<p>Percival was silent for a moment. Then he spread all his money on his
+open hand and eyed it: "What do you think of that for a fortune, eh,
+Godfrey?"</p>
+
+<p>Godfrey glanced at the little constellation of gold and silver coins.
+"Wants a little more spending," he said. "Two-pence halfpenny is the
+mystic sum which turns to millions. So Lisle has swindled you, has he? I
+thought as much."</p>
+
+<p>Percival nodded: "Keep my secret. They sha'n't say that I lived on my
+grandfather first, and then on Aunt Harriet or Sissy. They may find it
+out later, and welcome if I have shown them that I can do without them
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah yes," said Hammond a little vaguely. "Here we are."</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3>
+
+<h4>LOTTIE WINS.</h4>
+
+
+<p>Percival had not been wrong about Lottie: she had at any rate only
+partially understood what she was doing. The poor child had been
+bitterly humiliated by the discovery that he did not love her, and felt
+that she was disgraced for life by her ill-judged advance. The feeling
+was high-flown and exaggerated no doubt, but one hardly expects to find
+all the cool wisdom of Ecclesiastes in a brain of seventeen. Lottie,
+flying from Percival's scorn as she supposed, was ready for any
+desperate leap. What wonder that she took one into Horace's open arms!
+How could she find a better salve for wounded pride than by captivating
+the man who had passed her by as nothing but a child, and who had been,
+as she would have said, "much too great a swell to take any notice of
+<i>her</i>"? He had dangled in a half-hearted fashion after Addie, and had
+given himself airs. Wounded vanity had attracted him to Lottie, but,
+smitten by sudden passion, he wooed her hotly, with an eagerness which
+startled even himself. How could she be unconscious of the difference
+and of her triumph? Percival Thorne, who had slighted her, should see
+her reigning at Brackenhill!</p>
+
+<p>Proud, pleased, grateful, excited, dizzy with success, Lottie was swept
+away by the torrent of mingled feelings. Her sorrow for her father's
+death was violent, but not lasting. She could not feel his loss for any
+length of time, she had always been so much more her mother's child.
+Even during her mourning there was something of romance in Horace's
+letters of comfort, for Horace, who had always been the laziest
+correspondent in the world, wrote ardent letters to Lottie, and used all
+the hackneyed yet ever fresh expedients for transmitting them which have
+been bequeathed to us by generations of bygone lovers. There were
+meetings too, more romantic still. No one is so sentimental as the man
+who is startled out of a languid scorn of sentiment. He does not know
+where to stop. Horace would have been capable of serenading Lottie if
+Mrs. Blake would only have slept on the other side of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Addie was unconscious of the fiery romance which went on close at hand.
+She felt that the languid attentions which she had prized were fading
+away and would never ripen to anything more. Her sorrow for her father's
+death was deeper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> than Lottie's, and while it was fresh she hardly
+thought of Horace Thorne's coldness, except as a part of the general
+dreariness of life, and did not attempt to seek out its cause. Even Mrs.
+Blake never for a moment expected the revelation which was made to her
+near the beginning of October.</p>
+
+<p>It was Lottie who told her, coming to her one night with a white face of
+agony and resolution.</p>
+
+<p>Horace was dangerously ill. He had been ill before, but this was
+something altogether different. The cold which led to such alarming
+results had been caught in one of his secret expeditions to see Lottie.
+She had been forced to keep him waiting, and a chilly September rain had
+drenched him to the skin. He had gone away in his wet clothes, had tried
+to pretend that there was nothing amiss with him, and had gone out the
+next day in order to be able to attribute his cold to a ride in the
+north-east wind. Since that time Lottie had had three letters&mdash;the first
+a gallant little attempt at gayety and hopefulness; the second, after a
+considerable interval, depressed and anxious. They had ordered him
+abroad. "I am sure they think badly of me," he wrote, "though I'll cheat
+the grave yet&mdash;if I can. But how am I to live through the winter in some
+horrible hole of a place without my darling? Suppose I get worse instead
+of better, and die out there, and never see you again&mdash;never once?" And
+so on for a page of forebodings. Lottie's fondness for him, fanned by
+pity and remorse&mdash;was it not for her that he had risked his
+life?&mdash;flamed up to passion. They say that a woman always puts the real
+meaning of her letter into the postscript. I don't know how that may be,
+but I do not think she would ever fail to give full weight to any
+postscript she might receive. Horace's postscript was, "After all, I've
+a great mind to stay in England and chance it."</p>
+
+<p>Lottie was terrified. She replied, wildly entreating him to go, and
+vowing that they should meet again and not be parted. She did not yet
+know what she would do, but&mdash;Then followed a few notes of music roughly
+dashed in.</p>
+
+<p>He was puzzled. He tried the notes furtively on the piano, but they told
+him nothing. That day, however, there came to his mother's house a girl
+with whom he had had one of his numerous flirtations in bygone days. He
+asked her to play to him, and then to sing, hanging over the piano
+meanwhile, and thrilling her with his apparent devotion and with the
+melancholy which reminded her of the fate which threatened him. When she
+had finished her song he said, "But you'll sing me one more, won't you?
+I sha'n't have the chance again, you know." He looked down as he spoke
+and struck the notes which haunted him. "Do you know what that is?" he
+asked. "It has been going in my head all day, and I can't put a name to
+it."</p>
+
+<p>She tried it after him. "What <i>is</i> it?" she said: "I ought to remember,"
+and paused, finger on lip. Horace's eager eyes flashed upon hers, when
+she suddenly exclaimed, "I know. It's one of Chappell's old songs;" and,
+dashing her hands victoriously upon the keys, she sang "Love will find
+out the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Horace, and stood erect in a glow of passion and triumph. He
+remembered himself enough to ask again for one more song, but when, with
+a wistful tremor in her voice, she said, "This? you used to like this,"
+he assented, without an idea what it was, and dropped into the nearest
+arm-chair to ponder Lottie's message. He was quite unconscious that the
+girl at his side was singing "O Fair Dove! O Fond Dove!" with an
+earnestness of meaning, a pathos and a power, which she never attained
+before or since. But he was sorry when she stopped, for he had to come
+out of a most wonderful castle in the air and say "Thank you." When she
+went away he looked vaguely at her and let her hand fall, as was only
+natural. How we listen for the postman when we are longing for a letter
+and sick with hope deferred! But who thinks of him when he has dropped
+it into the box and is going down the street? Horace felt almost sure as
+he said good-bye that Love <i>had</i> found out the way.</p>
+
+<p>And his next note sent Lottie to her mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blake was utterly confounded when her younger daughter announced
+that she was engaged to Horace Thorne. "It was no good saying anything,"
+said Lottie frankly, "for his old wretch of a grandfather wouldn't think
+we were good enough to marry into <i>his</i> family, and I dare say he would
+go and leave all his money to Percival if Horace thwarted him. So we
+thought we would wait. People can't live <i>very</i> much longer when they
+are seventy-seven, can they? At least they do sometimes, I know," Lottie
+added, pulling herself up. "You see them in the newspapers sometimes in
+their ninety-eighth or ninety-seventh year, I've noticed lately. But I'm
+sure it will be very wicked if he lives twenty years more. And now
+Horace is ill, and we can't wait. For he must not and shall not go away,
+and perhaps die, without me." And Lottie broke down and wept.</p>
+
+<p>"But what do you want to do?" said Mrs. Blake. It was a shock to her,
+and she was sorry for Addie, but she could not repress a thrill of
+exultation at the thought that Horace Thorne, whom she had so coveted
+for a son-in-law, was caught. The state of his health was serious of
+course, but they must hope for the best, and the idea of an alliance
+with one of the leading county families dazzled her.</p>
+
+<p>"We want to be married before he goes out, and nobody to know anything
+about it," said Lottie; "and then you must take me abroad this winter."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blake declared that it was utterly impossible.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well," said Lottie, drying her tears. "Then I give you fair
+warning. I shall run away, and get to Horace somehow. I don't know
+whether we can get married abroad&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think not&mdash;a child like you, without my consent," said Mrs.
+Blake.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I suppose we couldn't. Well, then, it will be your doing, you know,
+if we are not. <i>I</i> shouldn't like to have such a thing on my
+conscience," said Lottie virtuously. "But perhaps you don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blake said that it was impossible that Lottie could be so lost to
+all sense of propriety, so wicked, so unwomanly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The girl stood opposite, slim, white and resolute. Her slender hands
+hung loosely clasped before her and a fierce spark burned in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's impossible too, is it?" she said quietly. "We'll see."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blake quailed, but murmured something about her "authority."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes," was the calm reply. "You might lock me up. Try it: I think I
+should get out. Make a fuss and ruin Horace and me. That you <i>can</i> do,
+but keep us apart you can't."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't know, you can't know, what it is you talk of doing, or you
+couldn't stand there without blushing."</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely not," said Lottie. "But since I know enough to do it&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You are a wicked, wilful child."</p>
+
+<p>"Wicked? Perhaps. Yes, I think I am wicked. I'm a child, I know. Help
+me, mother, for I love him!"</p>
+
+<p>The argument was prolonged, but the end could not be doubtful. Mrs.
+Blake could scold and bluster, but Lottie was determined. The mother was
+in bondage to Mrs. Grundy: the daughter played the trump card of her
+utter recklessness and won the game.</p>
+
+<p>Having yielded, Mrs. Blake threw herself heart and soul into the scheme.
+She announced that painful recollections made Fordborough impossible as
+a place of residence, that Lottie was looking ill, and that they both
+required a thorough change. She dropped judiciously disagreeable remarks
+about her stepson till Addie was up in arms, and said that her mother
+and Lottie might go where they liked, but she should go to her aunt,
+Miss Blake, till Oliver, who was on his way, came home. Then Mrs. Blake
+shut up her house and went quietly off to Folkestone: Horace was to
+start from Dover in rather more than a fortnight's time.</p>
+
+<p><a name="quotDO_YOU_WANT_TO_SEE_WHAT_I_HAVE_SAIDquot" id="quotDO_YOU_WANT_TO_SEE_WHAT_I_HAVE_SAIDquot"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 274px;">
+<a href="images/img98.jpg"><img src="images/img98th.jpg" width="274" height="400" alt="&quot;DO YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT I HAVE SAID?&quot;" title="&quot;DO YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT I HAVE SAID?&quot;" /></a>
+<span class="caption">&quot;DO YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT I HAVE SAID?&quot;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>After that the course was clear. Horace found out that he was worse, and
+must put off his departure for a week or ten days. Then, when the time
+originally fixed arrived, he said that he was better and would start at
+once. Naturally, Mrs. James was not ready, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> he discovered that the
+house was intolerable with her dressmakers and packing, that he must
+break the journey somewhere, and that he might as well wait for her at
+Dover. The morning after his arrival there he took the train to
+Folkestone, met Lottie and her mother, went straight to the church, and
+came back to Dover a lonely but triumphant bridegroom, while Mrs. Blake
+and Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> Horace Thorne crossed at once to Boulogne.</p>
+
+<p>It was necessary that Mrs. James should be enlightened, but Horace was
+not alarmed: he knew that she had no choice but to make common cause
+with him. Mrs. Blake, however, could hardly make up her mind what should
+be done about Addie. She more than suspected that the tidings would be a
+painful humiliation to her daughter. "We mustn't tell her," she said at
+last to Lottie. "She might be spiteful: it wouldn't be safe."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be quite safe," said Lottie. "Because of what we used to say
+about Horace, you mean? But that is just what makes it safe. I know
+Addie: she won't let any one say that she betrayed me because she wanted
+Horace herself once. She <i>said</i> she didn't, but I think there was
+something in it; and if there was, she'd be torn in pieces sooner than
+let any one say so."</p>
+
+<p>There was a curious straightforwardness about Lottie, even while she
+schemed and plotted. She calculated the effect of her sister's
+tenderness for Horace as frankly and openly as one might reckon on a
+tide or a train, and behaved as if the old saying, "All is fair in love
+and war," were one of the Thirty-nine Articles.</p>
+
+<p>She wrote her letter without difficulty or hesitation. It was after
+Horace had joined them, and he laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as
+she was contemplating her new signature.</p>
+
+<p>"Nearly done?" he said. "And who is to have the benefit of all this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Addie: she ought to know."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" There was something of uneasiness in his tone, as if an unpleasant
+idea had been presented to him. Horace had felt, when he arranged his
+secret marriage, that he and Lottie were doing a daring and romantic
+deed, and risking all for love in a truly heroic fashion. But when she
+told him that she had written to Addie the matter wore a less heroic
+aspect. Lottie might be unconscious of this in her sweet sincerity,
+thought the ardent lover, but he remembered old days and felt like
+anything but a hero.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you want to see what I have said?" She tilted her chair backward and
+looked up at him with her great clear eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"No," Horace answered with a smile: "I'm not going to pry into your
+letters." In his heart he knew that it was impossible to put the
+revelation of their secret to Addie into any words that would not be
+painful to him to read.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I give any message for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"N-no," said Horace, doubtfully: "I think not."</p>
+
+<p>"It might be considered more civil if you sent one."</p>
+
+<p>"Then say anything you please," was the half-reluctant rejoinder.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not going to invent your messages, you lazy boy! A likely
+story!" Lottie sprang up and put the pen into his hand: "There! write
+for yourself, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Horace thought that a refusal would betray his feelings about Addie, and
+he sat down, wondering what he was going to say. But his eye was caught
+by the last two words of the letter, "<span class="smcap">Lottie Thorne</span>;" and as he
+looked at them the young husband forgot Addie and his lips curved in a
+tender smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Make haste," said Lottie from the window&mdash;"make haste and come to me."</p>
+
+<p>Horace started from his happy reverie, set his teeth and wrote:</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Addie</span>: I suppose Lottie has told you everything. It was a
+reckless thing to do, no doubt: perhaps you will say it was wrong and
+underhand. Some people will, I dare say, but I hope you won't, for I
+should like to start with your good wishes. May I call myself</p>
+
+<p>"Your brother, H.T.?"</p>
+
+<p>In due time came the answer:</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Horace</span>: I will not pass judgment on you and your doings:
+I am not clever in arguing such matters. I will only say (which is more
+to the point, isn't it?) that you and Lottie have my best wishes for the
+safe-keeping of your secret, and anything I can do to help you I will.
+We are having very cold damp weather, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> I am glad you are safe in a
+warmer climate, and hope you are the better for it.</p>
+
+<p>"Your affectionate sister,</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Adelaide Blake</span>."</p>
+
+<p>Horace showed this to Lottie, and then thrust it away and forgot it all
+as quickly as he could. Addie had read this little scrap in her own
+room, had stood for a moment staring at it, had kissed it suddenly, then
+torn it into a dozen pieces and stamped upon it. Then she gathered up
+the fragments, sighed over them, burnt them, and vowed she would think
+no more of it or him. But as she went about the house there floated
+continually before her eyes, "Your brother, H.T.;" and the word which
+had been so sweet to her, which had always meant her dear old Noll, and
+which she had uttered so triumphantly to Percival in Langley Wood when
+she said "I have a brother," became her torment.</p>
+
+<p>Horace felt like a hero again when he forgot Addie, and only remembered
+how he was risking his grandfather's displeasure for his love's sake. He
+fully thought, as he had said, that he was Esau, and that smooth Jacob
+would win a large share of the inheritance; but when he stood with his
+back to the fireplace at Brackenhill, and knew that he was master of
+all, Percival's parting sneer awoke his old doubts as to his heroism
+once more. He had succeeded too well, and the risk which had ennobled
+his conduct in his own eyes would never be realized by others.
+Percival's attempt to supplant him had been foiled, and Horace was
+triumphant, yet he regretted the glaring contrast in their positions
+which rendered comparisons of their respective merits inevitable. But he
+could do nothing. Percival had said, "Don't let him offer me money."
+Horace, keener-sighted than Aunt Harriet, had not the slightest
+intention of doing so. He knew how such overtures would be received;
+and, after all, Brackenhill was his by right! And had not Percival
+plenty to live on?</p>
+
+<p>And as for himself, let who would turn their backs on him&mdash;even Aunt
+Harriet, if it must be so&mdash;he had Lottie, and could defy the world.</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3>
+
+<h4>A START IN LIFE.</h4>
+
+
+<p>For some days after he left Brackenhill, Percival was busy arranging his
+affairs. His ruin was remarkably complete. He had been running up bills
+in every direction during the last month or two, intending to pay for
+everything before his marriage out of the funds which were in Mr.
+Lisle's hands. He had plenty there, he knew, for his method of saving
+had been to live principally on his grandfather's supplies, and to leave
+his own to accumulate under his guardian's care&mdash;a plan which had always
+seemed to him admirably simple, as indeed it had proved to be. Lately he
+had not received much from the squire, because the old man so fully
+intended to provide for his favorite once and for all on the approaching
+wedding-day. Percival got some of the tradesmen to take back their
+goods, and sold off everything he had to meet the rest of the claims
+against him. Even the watch his grandfather had given him went, on
+Bombastes Furioso's theory that</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Watches were made to go.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Hammond was urgent that he should accept a loan. "It isn't friendly to
+be so infernally proud," said Godfrey.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you call being 'infernally proud'?" Percival retorted. "I've
+been living on you for the last fortnight; and I bought myself a silver
+watch this morning, and I've got two pounds seventeen shillings and
+sevenpence and a big portmanteau full of clothes. I don't <i>want</i> your
+money."</p>
+
+<p>It was after dinner. Hammond filled his glass and pushed the bottle to
+his guest. "What do you mean to do?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that's the question," answered Percival. "Do you happen to know if
+one has to pass much of an examination to qualify one for breaking
+stones on the roads now-a-days? Not that I should like that much;" and
+he sipped his claret reflectively. "It would be rather monotonous,
+wouldn't it? And I can't help thinking that bits would get into one's
+eyes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I think so too," said Godfrey. "Emigrate."</p>
+
+<p>"That advice would be good in some cases. But addressed to any one who
+is notoriously helpless its meaning is obvious."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you notoriously helpless?"</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps. What does it mean, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is a civil way of saying, 'Ruin is inevitably before you&mdash;gradual
+descent in the social scale, ending in misery and starvation. <i>Would</i>
+you be so kind as to go through the process a few thousand miles away,
+instead of just outside my front door?' I don't say you mean that&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sure I won't say I don't," Hammond interrupted him. "Very likely I
+do: I don't pretend to be any better than my neighbors. But that doesn't
+matter. If you are so clear-sighted that there's no sending you off
+under a happy delusion, it would be mere brutality to urge you to
+undergo sea-sickness in the search for such a fate. As you say, it is
+attainable here. Will you turn tutor?"</p>
+
+<p>Percival winced: "That sort of thing isn't easy to get into, is it? I
+doubt if I've the least aptitude for teaching, and I never went to
+college. I should be a very inferior article&mdash;not hall-marked."</p>
+
+<p>"Then write," said Godfrey.</p>
+
+<p>"Cudgel my lazy brains to produce trash, and hate my worthless work,
+which probably wouldn't sell. I haven't it in me, Godfrey." There was a
+pause.&mdash;"By Jove, though, I <i>will</i> write!" said Percival suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"What will you write?"</p>
+
+<p>"Anything. I'll be a lawyer's clerk."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my good fellow, you'll have to pay to be articled. I fear you
+won't make a living for years."</p>
+
+<p>"Articled? nonsense! I'll be a copying-clerk&mdash;one of those fellows who
+sit perched up on high stools at a desk all day. I <i>can</i> write, at any
+rate, so that will be an honest way of getting my living&mdash;the only one I
+can see."</p>
+
+<p>Hammond was startled, and expostulated, but in vain. The relief of a
+decision was so great that Percival clung to it. Hammond talked of a
+situation in a bank, but Percival hated figures. His scheme gave him a
+chance of cutting himself loose from all former associations and
+beginning a new, unknown and lonely life. "No one will take any notice
+of a lawyer's clerk," he said. "I want to get away and hide myself. I
+don't want to go into anything where I shall be noticed and encouraged,
+and expected to rise&mdash;don't let any one ever expect me to rise, for I
+certainly sha'n't&mdash;nor where any one can say, 'That is Thorne of
+Brackenhill's grandson.' I'm shipwrecked, and I've no heart for new
+ventures."</p>
+
+<p>"Not just at present," said Godfrey.</p>
+
+<p>"Never," said the other. "I'm not the stuff a successful man is made of,
+and what I want isn't likely to be gained in business. I might earn
+millions, I fancy, if I set them steadily before my eyes and loved the
+means for the end's sake, easier than I could get what I covet&mdash;three or
+four hundred a year, plenty of leisure, and brain and habits unspoilt by
+money-making. There's no chance for the man who not only hasn't the
+necessary keenness, but wouldn't like to have it. If you want to say,
+'More fool you!' you may."</p>
+
+<p>Hammond shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Stick to your money, Godfrey," said Thorne with a melancholy smile, "or
+you'll feel some day as if the ground were cut away from under your
+feet. It isn't pleasant."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take your word for it," said Hammond.</p>
+
+<p>Percival mused a little. "It's hard, somehow," he said. "I didn't want
+much and I wasn't reckless: upon my word, it's hard. Well, it can't be
+helped. Look here: do you know a lawyer who would suit me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is that the way you mean to apply for a situation? Let us see: will
+Your Highness stay in town?"</p>
+
+<p>"And meet all sorts of people? My Highness will not."</p>
+
+<p>"In the country, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, a big town&mdash;the bigger the better&mdash;some great manufacturing place,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
+where every one has smuts on his face, money in his pocket, and is too
+busy improving machinery to have time to look at his neighbor."</p>
+
+<p>"Would Brenthill do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Admirably."</p>
+
+<p>"I know a man there: I dare say he would as soon oblige me as not. What
+shall I say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Say that I want employment as a clerk, and that, though I am utterly
+inexperienced, I write a good hand and am fairly intelligent. Don't say
+that I am active and obliging, for I'm neither. Tell him that if he can
+give me a fair trial it is all that you ask, and that he may turn me out
+at the end of a week if I don't do."</p>
+
+<p>Godfrey nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p>"I think you may as well write it <i>now</i>," said Percival. "I shall find
+it difficult to live for any length of time on this private fortune of
+mine without making inroads on my capital."</p>
+
+<p>Hammond stretched himself and crossed the room to his writing-table.
+"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" he said. "It will be a
+horrible existence. Clerks receive very poor pay: I don't believe you
+can live on it."</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, I can die rather more slowly on it, and that will be
+convenient just now."</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you wait, and see if we can't help you to something better?"</p>
+
+<p>Percival shook his head: "No. I promised Sissy that if I took help from
+any one, it should be from her. I must try to stand by myself first."</p>
+
+<p>Godfrey wrote, and Percival sat with bent head, poring over the little
+note which Sissy had sent to entreat that the past might be forgotten.
+"Let me do something for you," she wrote. "Come back to me, Percival, if
+you have forgiven me; and you said you had. I was so miserable that
+miserable night, and we were so hurried, I hardly know what I said or
+did. It was like a bad dream: let us forget it, and wake up and begin
+again. Can't we? Come and be good to me, as you were last autumn. You
+remember your song that day in the garden, 'You would die ere I should
+grieve;' and I have grieved so bitterly since last Wednesday night! You
+will be good to me&mdash;won't you?&mdash;and I promise I will tell you everything
+always. I promise, Percival, and you know I will really when I say I
+promise."</p>
+
+<p>He had answered her with tender and sorrowful firmness. "I knew your
+letter was coming," he said. "I was as certain of it, and of what you
+would say, as if I held it in my hand. But, Sissy, you wouldn't have
+written so to me if I had been a rich man, as you hoped I should be; and
+I can't take from your sweet pity what you couldn't give me when I asked
+it for love's sake. It is impossible, dear, but I thank you from the
+bottom of my heart, and I love you for it. I hardly know yet where I
+shall go and what I shall do; but if I should want any help I will ask
+it first of you, and I will be your friend and brother to my dying day."</p>
+
+<p>Thus he closed the page of his life on which he had written that brief
+story of love. Yet Sissy's letter was an inexpressible comfort to him.
+It was something to know that elsewhere a little heart was beating&mdash;so
+true and kind that it would have given up its own happiness&mdash;to help him
+in his trouble.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later Percival was going north in a slow train. On his right
+sat a stout man with his luggage tied up in a dirty handkerchief. On his
+left was an old woman in rusty black nursing an unpleasant grandchild,
+who made hideous demonstrations of friendship to young Thorne. Opposite
+was a soldier smoking vile tobacco, a clodhopping boy in corduroy, and a
+big girl whose tawdry finery was a miracle of jarring and vulgar colors.</p>
+
+<p>Never, I think, could a young hero have set forth to make his way
+through the world with less hope than did Percival Thorne. He was
+already disheartened and disgusted, and questioned within himself
+whether life were worth having for those who went third-class. The slow
+train and the lagging hours crawled onward through the dust and heat.
+"And this," he thought, "should have been my wedding-day!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3>
+
+<h4>NO. 13 BELLEVUE STREET.</h4>
+
+
+<p>June gave way to July, July to August, August to September. Lottie
+reigned at Brackenhill, and Mrs. Middleton, whose heart clung to the
+neighborhood where she had lived so long, had taken a house on the other
+side of Fordborough. Between it and her old home lay an impassable
+gulf&mdash;none the less real that it was not marked on the county map. It
+appeared there as a distance of five miles and a quarter, with a good
+road, but Mrs. Horace Thorne, as well as Mrs. Middleton, knew better.
+Lottie laughed, and Horace's resentment was so keen that he was almost
+unconscious of his pain.</p>
+
+<p>Percival's utter disappearance was a nine days' wonder in Fordborough,
+and when curiosity was dying out it flamed up again on the discovery
+that the marriage was not only put off, but was off altogether. This
+fact, considered in connection with the old squire's will, gave rise to
+the idea that there was something queer about Mr. Percival Thorne&mdash;that
+he had been found out at the last moment, and had lost both wife and
+legacy in consequence. "No doubt it was hushed up on condition he should
+take himself off. The best thing they could do, but how sad for an old
+county family! Still, there will be black sheep, and what a mercy it was
+that Miss Langton was saved from him!" So people talked, and generally
+added that they could not tell why&mdash;just a feeling, you know&mdash;but they
+never had liked that Percival Thorne.</p>
+
+<p>In September, Godfrey Hammond cut a tiny slip out of the <i>Times</i> and
+sent it to the banished man: "On the 15th, the wife of Horace Thorne,
+Esq., Brackenhill, Fordborough, of a son."</p>
+
+<p>Percival ate his breakfast that morning with the scrap of paper by his
+plate, and looked at it with fierce, defiant eyes. Lottie was avenged
+indeed&mdash;she would never know how bitterly. He had sworn that he would
+never think of Brackenhill, yet without his knowledge it had been the
+background to his thoughts of everything. And now the cruel injustice of
+his fate had taken a new lease of life in this baby boy: it would
+outlive him, it would become eternal. Percival leapt to his feet with a
+short laugh: "Well, that's over and done with! Good luck to the poor
+little fellow! he's innocent enough. And I don't suppose he'll ever know
+what a scoundrel his father was." So saying, he glanced at his watch and
+marched off to his work.</p>
+
+<p>Those three months had left their trace on him. He loathed his life; he
+had no companions, no hope; he was absorbed in the effort to endure his
+suffering. His indolence made his daily labor hateful as the treadmill.
+He was fastidious, and his surroundings sickened him. His food disgusted
+him, and so did the close atmosphere of the office. But he had chosen
+his fate, and he had no heart to try to escape from it, since it gave
+him the means of keeping body and soul together. Day after day, as that
+hot September wore away, he looked out on a dreary range of roofs and
+chimney-pots. He learned to know and hate every broken tile. From his
+bedroom he looked into a narrow back yard, deep like a well, at the
+bottom of which children swarmed, uncleanly and unwholesome, and women
+gossiped and wrangled as they hung out dingy rags to dry. The fierce sun
+shone on it all, and on Percival as he leant at his window surveying it
+with disgust, yet something of fascination too. "I fancied the sun
+wouldn't seem so bright in holes like this," he mused. "I thought
+everything would be dull and dim. Instead of which, he glares into every
+cranny and corner, as if he were pointing at all the filth and squalid
+misery, and makes it ten times more abominable." Nor did the slanting
+rays light up anything pleasant and fresh in the bedroom itself. It was
+shabby and small, with coarsely-papered walls and a discolored ceiling.
+Percival remarked that his window had a very wide sill. He never found
+out the reason, unless it were intended that he should take the air by
+sitting on it and dangling his legs over the foulest of water-butts. But
+when night came the broad sill was the favorite battlefield for all the
+cats in the neighborhood. It might have been pointed out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> as readily as
+they point you out the place where the students fight at Heidelberg.</p>
+
+<p>From his sitting-room he looked on a melancholy street. The
+unsubstantial houses tried to seem&mdash;not respectable, no word so honest
+could be applied to them, but&mdash;genteel, and failed even in that
+miserable ambition. Percival used to watch the plastered fronts, flaking
+in the sun and rain, old while yet new, with no grace of bygone memory
+or present strength, till he fancied that they might be perishing of
+some foul leprosy like that described in Leviticus. And the wearisome
+monotony! They were all just alike, except that here and there one was a
+little dingier than its neighbors, with the railings more broken and the
+windows dirtier. One day, when his landlady insisted on talking to him
+and Percival was too courteous to be absolutely silent, he asked where
+the prospect was from which the street took its name. She said they used
+to be able to see Three-Corner Green from their attic-windows. In her
+mother's time there was a tree and a pond there, she believed, and she
+herself could remember it quite green, a great place for Cheap Jacks and
+people who preached and sold pills. But now it was all done away with
+and built over. It was Paradise Place, and Paradise Place wasn't much of
+a prospect, though there might be worse. But it was no detriment to Mr.
+Thorne's rooms, for it was only the attic that ever had the view.
+However, folks must call the place something, if only for the letters;
+and Bellevue looked well on them and sounded airy, and she was never the
+one for change. This sounded so like the beginning of a discourse on
+things in general that Percival thanked her and fled.</p>
+
+<p>It was about ten minutes' walk to Mr. Ferguson's office. There, week
+after week, he toiled with dull industry. He could not believe that his
+drudgery would last: something&mdash;death perhaps&mdash;must come to break the
+monotony of that slowly unwinding chain of days, which was like a
+grotesquely dreary dream. To have flung himself heart and soul into his
+work not only demanded an effort of which he felt himself incapable,
+but it seemed to him that such an effort could only serve to identify
+him with this hideous life. So, with head bowed over interminable pages,
+he labored with patient indifference. On his left sat a clerk ten or
+fifteen years older than himself, a white-faced man, who blinked like an
+owl in sunlight and had a wearisome cough. There was always a sickly
+smell of lozenges about him, and he was fretful if every window was not
+tightly closed. On Percival's right was a sallow youth of nineteen. He
+worked by fits and starts, sometimes driving his pen along as if the
+well-being of the universe depended on the swift completion of his task
+and the planets might cease to revolve if he were idle, while a few
+minutes later he would be drawing absently on his blotting-paper or
+feeling for his whiskers, as if they might have arrived suddenly without
+his being aware of it. Probably he was thinking over his next speech at
+the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society. They debated high and
+important matters at their weekly meetings. They inquired, "Was Oliver
+Cromwell justified in putting King Charles to death?" they read
+interesting papers about it, and voted the unlucky monarch into or out
+of his grave with an energy which would have allowed him little rest if
+it could have taken effect. They marshalled many arguments to decide the
+knotty and important question, "Does our Country owe most to the Warrior
+or the Statesman?" and they made up their minds and voted about that
+too. The sallow young man was rather a distinguished member of the
+society, and had much to say on such problems as these.</p>
+
+<p>The clerks did not like Thorne. They felt that he was not one of
+themselves, and said that he was stuck up and sulky. They resented his
+silence. If you do not like a man you always understand his silence as
+the speech you would most dislike&mdash;veiled. Above all, they resented his
+grave politeness. They left him alone, with an angry suspicion that it
+was exactly what he wanted them to do; as indeed it was, though he was
+painfully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> conscious of the atmosphere of distrust and ill-will in which
+he lived. But he could have found no pleasure in their companionship,
+and in fact was only interested in their coats. He was anxious to learn
+how shabby a man might become and pass unnoticed in the office; so he
+would glance, without turning his head, at the white-faced man's sleeve,
+and rejoice to see the same threadbare cuff travelling slowly across a
+wide expanse of parchment.</p>
+
+<p>When he wrote to Hammond he said that he was getting on very well. He
+could not say that his work was very amusing, but very likely he should
+get more used to it in time. He wished to be left alone and to give it a
+fair trial. How was Sissy?</p>
+
+<p>Hammond replied that Mrs. Middleton had aged a good deal, but that she
+and Sissy were both pretty well, and had got an idea&mdash;he could not think
+from whom&mdash;that Percival had gone in for the law and was going to do
+something very amazing indeed. "They are waiting to be surprised,"
+Godfrey wrote, "like children on their birthdays. St. Cecilia especially
+wouldn't for worlds open her eyes till the right moment comes and you
+appear in your glory as lord chancellor or attorney-general, or
+something of the kind. I'm afraid she's a little hazy about it all,
+though of course she knows that you will be a very great man and that
+you will wear a wig. Mrs. Middleton is perhaps a trifle more moderate in
+her expectations. I left them to build their castles in the air, since
+you had bound me to secrecy, but I wish you would tell them the truth.
+Or I would help you, as you know, if I knew how."</p>
+
+<p>Percival answered that Godfrey must not betray him: "I couldn't endure
+that Horace and his wife should know of my difficulties; and as to
+living on Aunt Harriet&mdash;never! And how could I go back to Fordborough,
+now that Sissy and I have parted? She would sacrifice herself for
+me&mdash;poor child!&mdash;out of sheer pity. No: here I can live, after a
+fashion, and defy the world. And here I will live, and hope to know some
+day that Sissy has found her happiness. Till then let her think that I
+am prospering."</p>
+
+<p>Godfrey shrugged his shoulders over Percival's note. It was irrational,
+no doubt, but Thorne had a right to please himself, and might as well
+take care of his pride, since he had not much else to take care of. So
+he attempted no persuasion, but simply sent any Fordborough news and
+forwarded occasional letters from Mrs. Middleton and Sissy. As the
+autumn wore on, Percival began to feel strange as he opened the
+envelopes and saw the handwriting which belonged to his old life. He had
+an absurd idea that the letters should not have come to <i>him</i>&mdash;that his
+former self, the self Sissy had known, was gone. He read her letters by
+the light of what Hammond had told him, and saw the delicate wording by
+which she tried to show her sympathy, yet almost repelled his
+confidence. She was so anxious not to thrust herself into his
+secrets&mdash;it was so evident that she would not be troublesome, but would
+wait with shut eyes, as Hammond had said, for a birthday surprise and
+triumph! O poor little Sissy! O faith which he felt within himself no
+strength to vindicate! He answered her in carefully weighed sentences,
+and smiled as he wrote them down because they amused him&mdash;a smile sadder
+than tears. Percival Thorne was dead, and he was some one else, trying
+to think what Percival would have said, and to hide his death from
+Sissy, lest her heart should break for pity.</p>
+
+<p>It was very foolish? Yes. But if you had parted yourself from every one
+you knew; if for five months you had never heard a friendly word; if you
+had a secret to hide and a part to play; if you lived alone, surrounded
+by faces of people with whom you had no faintest touch of
+sympathy&mdash;faces which were to you like those of swarming Chinese or men
+and women in a nightmare,&mdash;perhaps you might have some thoughts and
+fancies less calm and less rational than of old. And the more changed
+Percival felt himself, the more he shrank from the friends he had left.</p>
+
+<p>November came. One day he looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> at the date on the office almanac and
+remembered that it was exactly a year since he went down to Brackenhill
+and heard of old Bridgman's death. He could not repress a short sudden
+laugh. It was half under his breath, but his neighbor, who was at that
+moment gazing fiercely into space and turning a sentence, heard it, and
+felt that it was in mockery of him. Percival was thinking how seriously
+he had considered that important question, "Would he stand as the
+Liberal candidate for Fordborough?" Percival Thorne, Esq., M.P.! He
+might well laugh as he sat at his desk filling in a bundle of notices.
+But from that moment the sallow youth on his right hated him with a
+deadly hatred.</p>
+
+<p>December came&mdash;a dull, gray, bitter December&mdash;not clear and sparkling,
+as December sometimes is, nor yet misty and warm, as if it would have
+you take it for a lingering autumn, but bitter without beauty, harsh and
+pitiless. Keen gusts of wind whirled dust and straws and rubbish in
+dreary little dances along Bellevue street, the faces of the passers-by
+were nipped and miserable with the cold, and the sullen sky hung low
+above the pallid row of houses opposite. Percival looked out on this and
+thought of Brackenhill, which he left in leafy June. He was very
+miserable: he had always been quickly sensitive to the beauty or
+dreariness around him, and the gray dulness of the scene entered into
+his very soul. Warmth, leisure, sunlight and blue sky! There was plenty
+of sunlight somewhere in the world. O God! what had he done that it
+should be denied him?</p>
+
+<p>There was a weary craving upon him that might have led to terrible
+results, but his pride and fastidiousness saved him. His delicately
+cultivated palate loathed the coarse fire of spirits, and he had a
+healthy horror of drugs. Once or twice he had thought of opium when he
+could not escape, even in dreams, from the grayness of his life. "This
+is unendurable," he would say; and he played in fancy with the key which
+unlocks the gates of that strange region lying on the borders of
+paradise and hell. But his better sense questioned, "Will it be any more
+endurable when I have ruined my nerves and the coats of my stomach?" It
+did not seem probable that it would be. If death had been the risk he
+might have faced it, but he recoiled from the thought of a premature and
+degraded old age, still chained to the hateful desk.</p>
+
+<p>There are times when a man may be cheaply made into a hero. What would
+not Percival have given for the chance of doing some deed of reckless
+bravery?</p>
+
+<p class='center'>[TO BE CONTINUED.]</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><a name="A_LEVANTINE_PICNIC" id="A_LEVANTINE_PICNIC"></a>A LEVANTINE PICNIC.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>We had been a long time in Suda Bay&mdash;one of the numerous indentations on
+the north coast of Crete&mdash;in company with Turkish, Egyptian, Russian and
+Austrian men of war. Fighting was going on at intervals on the
+mountains&mdash;of which Mount Ida and some of the other peaks were covered
+with snow&mdash;and we could sometimes see from our anchorage the spirts of
+white smoke where the Cretans (not "slow-bellies" now) were ambushing
+the Turkish columns as they struggled up the mountain-defiles. Egyptian
+transports came in and landed their long-legged, white-uniformed troops,
+who perhaps bivouacked that night on the shores of the bay, and the next
+day were absorbed in the great reticulations of the mountain-island,
+which must have seemed a strange country indeed to the Fellah recruits,
+to whom the Mokattam Hills were mountains.</p>
+
+<p><i>We</i> could do nothing in Crete. We were closely bound down by orders,
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> sympathies had no play. Hundreds of women and children, the
+families of the insurgents, were interned at Retimo in an old fort and
+in other similar strongholds. Some were hovering about the south coast,
+not far from St. Paul's Fair Havens, in hopes of being taken off from
+there. The condition of these people was very pitiable. The Russian
+frigate General Admiral had taken one load of them to Greece, but the
+pacha in command, Mustapha Kiritli, positively refused to allow us or
+the Russians to take any more. The blockade-runners (one of which, at
+least, had distinguished herself in our own then recent war) took off a
+few, but could not, of course, stay on the coast long enough to
+accomplish much without having a Turkish cruiser down upon them. As a
+war-measure the refusal of the pacha was right, for the possession of
+the women and children gave the Turks a certain hold upon the Cretans
+who were bushwhacking in the mountains.</p>
+
+<p>The pacha did give us permission to go down to Retimo to see for
+ourselves the condition of the families detained there. They were not so
+badly off, according to Levantine notions. They had lentils, oil, flour
+and firewood, a shelter for their heads, and their rugs and rags to
+sleep under. The Turkish officers asked, What more could people want?
+What they wanted was the Turks out of the island for ever, but it was of
+no use to say that. Such a remark on our part might have been thought
+personal.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes during our stay we went over to the town of Canea, where the
+only things of interest were&mdash;first, a red-hot consul, who sympathized
+so violently with the Cretans that he had lost all his influence with
+the Turks, to whom, of course, he was accredited; and, secondly, the
+fine old Venetian slips and galley-houses, in such preservation as
+almost to make one fancy that the days of Francesco Prioli, the admiral,
+had not yet departed.</p>
+
+<p>At Suda Bay there was a large Turkish camp, which was interesting for an
+hour or two. About its outskirts it had a curious collection of
+half-savage camp-followers and hangers-on, the close inspection of whom
+on their own ground, with their queer ways of butchering and cooking and
+what not, was interesting, but not altogether unattended with a spice of
+danger to a solitary <i>Giaour</i>. We had visited and entertained the
+Russians and the Austrians, and they had returned our civilities and
+tried to make things cheerful; but we were very weary of Suda Bay long
+before orders came permitting us to go over to Smyrna; which place, when
+we got there, seemed a very Naples by comparison with Canea.</p>
+
+<p>The Bay of Smyrna is far famed as a fine one. The <i>imbat</i>, or
+sea-breeze, usually blows every day and all day long, so that, however
+close one may lie to the town, the odors from its filthy, narrow streets
+are all blown the other way&mdash;sufficiently rich, one would think, to
+fertilize any soil over which they may be wafted. I suppose there is no
+better instance of the whited sepulchre than Smyrna. The view of the
+city and its environs from an anchorage in the bay, with the sun shining
+upon its blue waters dancing and crisping under the brisk imbat; the
+Greek spires and the minarets of the mosques relieved by the cypresses
+of the graveyards; the amphitheatrical situation of the whole place,
+crowned by Mount Pagus with its picturesque ruined castle, and the fine
+mountain-scenery in the background,&mdash;must impress every visitor. And yet
+nowhere has the plague so often reaped its harvest, owing to neglect of
+everything which goes to make life clean and decent.</p>
+
+<p>We had been many days in Smyrna, and had eaten many bunches of grapes,
+each as fine as any the spies brought from Eshkol. We had seen the
+famous <i>rahat-li-coom</i> boiling in the caldrons, and then flavored and
+beaten and drawn, and then had eaten it. We had smoked many okes of
+Latakia. We had spent pleasant evenings among the foreign residents at
+Bournabat, where the dress-coat and claret-jug and piano represent
+Western civilization to the merchants and consuls tired after a long day
+in the hot, reeking, noisy town. We had learned to find our way through
+the bazaar without a guide,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> and had bought shawls and rugs in the
+Persian khan, driving close bargains, as we thought, after hours of
+patient sitting and much smoking and coffee-drinking, and being cheated
+frightfully, as we found out afterward on comparing notes with resident
+ladies. We had ridden up, on donkeys, to the huge ruined castle
+dominating the city, said, popularly, to have been built by the English
+Richard, and certainly dating from the thirteenth century, and we had
+come down from there in a high state of heat, dust and disgust. We had
+been to see figs packed for the market in a place and after a manner
+which made us think of the motto of the Garter. We had gone to see the
+Whirling Dervishes, and had witnessed the drill of the Turkish nizam at
+the grand new barracks. We had visited the English military cemetery
+formed in Crimean days, and had experienced a strange home-feeling as we
+read the familiar names on the headstones. We had had sailing-parties on
+the bay for consuls and consulesses, landing at Sanjak Kalessi to take
+luncheon and to see the huge old-fashioned guns in the fort, with their
+stone balls (of granite or marble, two feet in diameter), once thought
+so formidable. We had been the round of the Greek caf&eacute;s which flourish
+in such numbers in Smyrna, where polyglot concerts and the worst
+features of the <i>caf&eacute; chantant</i> seem never to tire their patrons. We had
+seen a Persian caravan start&mdash;a sight well worth rising early for, if
+only to see their outlandish drivers lash the loads upon the camels,
+which groan and bellow and scold during the operation, retracting their
+hare-lips, showing their long yellow teeth, and projecting from their
+mouths the very hideous and peculiar bag of flesh and blue color; in
+which condition they attain a point of repulsiveness possessed by no
+other animal I know of.</p>
+
+<p>An official reception and visit by the pacha had of course been
+accomplished, both parties seeming to be about equally bored by the
+ceremony, and Smyrna seemed, for us, to be pretty well "played out." We
+were reduced to dropping small coin over the taffrail for expectant men
+and boys to dive for through the clear blue water, and to betting upon
+the time of arrival of the Austrian Lloyds or the Russian mail-steamer.</p>
+
+<p>Clearly, this was not a wholesome state to be in; and knowing this, a
+Good Samaritan, our acting consul, Mr. G&mdash;&mdash;, proposed as a distraction
+trips to neighboring places of interest, especially to Ephesus and
+Magnesia. They were both to be reached by rail, and so near as to
+require but a single day's absence, which was of importance to us, as we
+were expecting orders to sail at any moment.</p>
+
+<p>The first-mentioned place naturally attracted us most, from its
+association with our youthful studies, both biblical and secular; and so
+it was decided that we should make a day of it at Ephesus, and have a
+picnic. The party consisted of our consul and his two nieces, very
+excellent specimens of Levantine-born people of English stock; an
+Armenian gentleman, Mr. A&mdash;&mdash;, and his wife; and three of our officers.
+Due preparation was made by kind Mr. G&mdash;&mdash; in the way of sending hampers
+of provision and wine, and in ordering horses to meet us at A&iuml;asulouk,
+the nearest station to Ephesus, and about fifty miles by rail from
+Smyrna.</p>
+
+<p>We were obliged to start very early in the morning, for there was only
+one daily passenger-train each way on the Smyrna and Aidin Railroad. The
+road was far from being remunerative to the bond- and stock-holders at
+that time, and I fancy it has not been so since. There seemed, indeed,
+scant reason for any passenger-train at all, for, besides our own party,
+there were only two or three Zaptiehs, truculent-looking fellows, a
+couple of English merchants and some rayahs.</p>
+
+<p>The contrast between the bustling noise and modern associations of the
+railway-train and the medi&aelig;val-looking environs of Smyrna, through which
+it threaded its way, was sufficiently striking to occupy one's thoughts
+for some time after starting, especially as alongside the railway ran
+for some distance the caravan-route, already filled by strings of camels
+and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> their drivers&mdash;most picturesque objects in such a landscape. Most
+of the native traders prefer that time-honored mode of transportation to
+the iron horse, and a large proportion of the merchandise received at
+this most important commercial centre came on the backs of camels, mules
+and asses. Aidin, the southern terminus of the road on which we were
+travelling, is a great d&eacute;p&ocirc;t of the figs which we have all eaten from
+infancy put up in drums; and the freight of these is one of the
+principal sources of revenue to the railway. That more products of the
+soil are not sent in this way is rather the fault of the wretched
+government than of the rayahs or agricultural laborers. They are ground
+to the very earth by iniquitous taxation, and only manage to live from
+hand to mouth in what should be a land of plenty.</p>
+
+<p>After the railroad turns southward it follows a broad valley between two
+low mountain-ridges, the western one being rather precipitous. Here and
+there were ledges which were occupied by the flocks of Bedouins and of
+Yourouks (a true nomad race, speaking a Turkish dialect), as well as by
+their low, broad black tents, scarcely distinguishable at that
+elevation. These people had encroached upon land formerly cultivated and
+very fertile&mdash;in some places merely in the fallow-time, but in others in
+consequence of the proper tillers of the soil being driven away,
+hopeless from endless exactions on the part of the greedy pachas and
+kaimacans set over them. There was one comfort. They got little from the
+Bedawee or the Yourouks, who flitted when tax-time came. These hills had
+quite recently been the scene of the exploits of Kitterji Janni, a
+celebrated robber-chief not long gone to his account. From all we heard
+of him he was not altogether a bad fellow, but robbed the rich and gave
+to the poor in a quite Rinaldo-Rinaldini sort of style.</p>
+
+<p>We were already on friendly terms with all our entertainers except the
+Armenian lady, the wife of Mr. A&mdash;&mdash;, whom we now met for the first
+time. She was still a young woman, tall, with a very comely face and
+laughing black eyes, but hugely fat, as Armenians are apt to become
+very early. She was dressed in bright colors and in the latest Parisian
+style, including the bonnet and parasol. A jolly, wholesome, honest look
+and manner prepossessed us in her favor, but, unfortunately, she did not
+speak a word of either English or French. Her husband, tall and fat too,
+was a good fellow, and, unlike his wife (who possessed only Turkish,
+Greek and Armenian), spoke in addition French, Italian and English with
+great ease and fluency. Indeed, the Armenians are the best of the
+different nationalities of Asia Minor and Syria: diligent in business,
+moderately honest, good linguists and accountants, they have more
+dignified manners and stability than the Fanariot Greeks, and more
+brains than the Turks. They retain their physical type as distinctly as
+do the Parsees in India, and are equally ready to turn an honest penny,
+<i>en gros</i> and <i>en d&eacute;tail</i>.</p>
+
+<p>We rattled along the excellent railway in a style calculated to make the
+"limited express" look to its laurels, and in less than two hours drew
+up at the station of A&iuml;asulouk. Here the western chain of hills which we
+had skirted ceases, and the great marshy plain of Ephesus opens out, the
+river Cayster meandering through it. The insignificant station-house and
+platform, with a small coffee-house and some dwellings, reminded me of a
+prairie station in our Western country. But the eye was at once
+attracted by something we should not find in the Western World&mdash;to wit,
+some ruins, large, roofless, but with solid walls, two domes, some
+pinnacles and a graceful minaret. These are the ruins of the mosque of
+Sultan Selim, called by the Greeks the church of St. John, though it was
+certainly not the church under which the saint was buried. There are the
+remains of a Christian church behind those of the mosque, and below a
+ruined Turkish castle with a Roman gateway which crowns the hill still
+farther north. The apse of this ruined church, also called St. John by
+the native Greeks, is still visited and venerated by them.</p>
+
+<p>A ruined aqueduct stalked across the plain from east to west, bearing
+high in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> air the rude nests of numerous storks, which were to be seen
+sitting or standing on their nests or flying deliberately to and fro
+with that air of being perfectly at home which belongs to storks in
+whatever part of the world they may chance to make their sojourn. This
+aqueduct received its water from a tunnel in the eastern range, and was
+probably the principal source of supply for the city in Roman times. The
+ruins of another (tunnelled) aqueduct have been discovered of late years
+coming from the mountains to the south of the city; and this is probably
+much older than the first named, as the Greeks preferred that mode of
+conducting water wherever practicable, their subterranean channels, a
+sort of syphon arrangement, being in use long before any of the Roman
+aqueducts were built. The fact is, that the Greeks early found out that
+water would find its own level, while the Romans, if they knew the fact,
+did not always act upon it.</p>
+
+<p>Far off from the railway-station, to the west and south-west, in the
+midst of the dreary marshy plain, rose Mount Coressus, about which as a
+centre formerly clustered the imperial city of Diana. Hardly a moving
+thing was in sight but the flying storks and the waving green patches of
+rushes and of grain bowed by the strong imbat, which wafted
+cloud-shadows over the rather melancholy landscape. The peasants who
+till the arable part of the plain only come down there to work at the
+planting and the harvest, and live at Kirkenjee, a town on the
+mountain-side. Malaria does not permit them to live nearer to their
+work. Indeed, the traces of the swamp-poison were plainly seen in the
+faces of the railway employ&eacute;s and other residents in the vicinity of the
+station. While we were taking this glance about us our hampers were
+deposited on the platform and the train rattled off again with great
+briskness, as if time were of any importance, and as if the whole
+arrangement were not an anachronism in this part of the world!</p>
+
+<p>We were to return to have our picnic at the ruins on our right, after
+which we should be in readiness for the evening train; but just now the
+great thing was to get to horse and to finish the necessary
+sight-seeing before the heat of the day if possible. And so the horses
+were brought up. Such horses! Plucky enough, but small and lean and
+scraggy, of all colors and all degrees of ugliness. Three English
+side-saddles had been brought out in the train for the ladies, while the
+men of the party took the horse-gear provided by the owner of the
+animals, instruments of torture known as Turkish saddles. The two young
+ladies, light weights, were soon mounted. Then the horse intended for
+the Armenian lady was brought up alongside the platform, and her husband
+placed her upon the side-saddle after a careful tightening of girths.
+When the horse, which seemed lighter than his burden, moved away, the
+saddle at once began to turn in a very deliberate fashion, depositing
+the fair rider gently upon the ground. There they were, the rider seated
+quietly upon the turf, and the side-saddle pendulous between the horse's
+legs, the animal apparently much puzzled to know what to make of the
+strange machine, but evidently not intending any such nonsense as
+running away. The men rushed at the animal, righted the saddle, and
+hauled away at the girths until the horse became quite wasp-like in
+form. He was then led back to the platform, and the lady's ponderous
+form was once more placed on the side-saddle, only to repeat the turning
+operation, gravity asserting itself with all the ease and certainty
+belonging to natural laws. Our laughter was by this time uncontrollable,
+the good-natured Armenian joining in it heartily, and a consultation was
+held to determine what was to be done. She was out for a day's pleasure,
+and evidently did not mean to be left behind. Finally, it was determined
+that she should take one of the other saddles; and she mounted one
+accordingly, the horse then moving off slowly, but well enough, as the
+weight was evenly balanced. I have seldom seen a jollier sight than that
+portly dame, in her resplendent skirts and spick-and-span French bonnet
+and parasol, mounted <i>en cavalier</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Having discreetly and safely <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>accomplished this difficult piece of
+business, we all set off by a narrow footpath, muddy in many places,
+toward the site of the ancient city. We passed patches of cultivated
+ground here and there, a good deal of which was tobacco, but for the
+most part our way was through marsh-grass and low bushes. Nearly a mile
+north-east of the ruins of the city we passed what the best authorities
+positively say are the ruins of the temple. The arch&aelig;ologists have been
+quarrelling over this point for generations, and some think that the
+ruins are those of a great Christian fane. The fact is, that almost all
+the ruins have been quarries of building- and lime-stone for centuries,
+and those edifices which stood farthest to the east and north-east, as
+the temple did, suffered most because most accessible.</p>
+
+<p>I do not propose to inflict upon the reader a list of the ruins which we
+saw, some well authenticated, and some not. It is not every mind,
+however well regulated, that will bear the personal inspection of ruins,
+much less a catalogue of them.</p>
+
+<p>We passed on, still westward, skirting the rocky Mount Coressus, on the
+western side of which was the great theatre, then in process of
+excavation by Mr. Wood, who has since published an elaborate account of
+his discoveries. Far toward the west stretched the ruins where had been
+the markets, the stadium and the ports, with crumbling walls and towers
+of all stages of antiquity, Greek, Roman and Byzantine. One of the
+towers or forts, on an elevation to the westward, and of somewhat
+cyclopean construction, passes popularly for "St. Paul's Prison."</p>
+
+<p>Far to the west glittered the sea in the Bay of Scala Nova, and beyond
+rose the mountains of Samos, still famed for fruity wine. It is
+generally supposed that the sea once came up to the site of Ephesus, but
+there is no good reason for the belief. The Cayster has undoubtedly in
+the course of ages brought down and deposited much soil, and has formed
+a delta, but we know that in the palmy days of the city a long canal,
+with solid quays of cut stone, led the ships up to the two ports. The
+remains of these canals have been traced for a long way, showing that
+the distance to the sea was always considerable, while the ports are
+still defined by the extra-luxuriant growth of bulrushes and cat-tails.</p>
+
+<p>We had stopped at the theatre to examine the curious sculptures
+collected there by the excavators, and to enjoy the view. To do this we
+all dismounted, with the exception of the Armenian lady, who mildly but
+firmly declined to descend, no doubt feeling that there would be a
+difficulty in remounting where there was no railway-platform. In her own
+mind she no doubt said with MacMahon, "J'y suis! j'y reste!" Mounting
+again, we rode round to the south of Coressus, passing along a regular
+street, with the remains of paving and curbing, parallel with the
+southern wall of the ancient city, which ran along the declivity of
+Mount Pion. Here was pointed out the tomb of St. Luke. Extensive
+excavations were being made near here under English auspices, and tombs
+were daily being discovered, both pagan and early Christian. On the very
+day of our visit a substantial tomb had been exposed, cut clearly and
+deeply into the stone of which was the inscription in Greek, "Alexander
+the Rich."</p>
+
+<p>The sun by this time was more than warm, and we were three or four miles
+from our luncheon. So the horses' heads were turned toward A&iuml;asulouk; on
+which sign of being homeward bound they developed a speed little to be
+expected from their looks and previous conduct. Passing a breach in the
+wall of the ancient city, more tombs and the remains of an extensive
+colonnade, we came out upon the marshy plain which we had crossed once
+before, having completely circled Coressus. On the left, as we rode
+along, the ruins of the church dedicated to the Seven Sleepers were
+pointed out to us. The church or chapel was cut out of the solid rock as
+to the walls, with a groined roof of stone. We have all heard of the
+"Seven Sleepers" from our boyhood, perhaps the toughest yarn incident to
+that period. The Turks and Persians have their legends about them as
+well as the Christians. The Mohammedans<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> preserve one set of names and
+the Christians another, so an inquirer may take his choice. The Moslems
+certainly make the most of the legend, for they place the names of the
+Sleepers upon buildings to prevent their being burned, and upon swords
+to prevent them from breaking; and they preserve the name of the dog
+which was shut up with them. The legend refers to the persecution of the
+Christians in the reign of Diocletian&mdash;some say the Decian persecution.
+The story goes that seven noble youths of Ephesus (being Christians and
+under persecution) fled to this cave for refuge&mdash;were pursued,
+discovered and walled in. In this dreadful condition they were
+miraculously put into a sleep which lasted, some say two, some three,
+hundred years.</p>
+
+<p>The Koran relates the tale in a circumstantial way, regarding Moslems
+persecuted by Christians of course. It declares that the sun, out of
+respect for these young martyrs, altered his course, so that twice in
+the day he might shine upon the cavern. The name of the dog, "Kit Mehr,"
+has always appeared in the traditions of the Mussulmans, but I believe
+no name has been preserved for him in the Christian story. This dog,
+having consumed three hundred years in standing erect, growling and
+guarding his masters' slumbers, was for his faithfulness considered
+worthy of translation to heaven. He was admitted to that beatitude in
+company with Abraham's ram, Balaam's ass, the foal upon which Jesus rode
+into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, and Mohammed's mare upon which he
+ascended to heaven.</p>
+
+<p>What says Alcoran?&mdash;"When the youths betook them to the cave they said,
+'O our Lord! grant us mercy from before thee, and order for us our
+affairs aright!' ... And thou wouldst have deemed them awake, though
+they were sleeping; and we turned them to the right and to the left; and
+in the entrance lay their dog with paws outstretched. Hadst thou come
+suddenly upon them thou wouldst surely have turned thy back on them in
+flight, and have been filled with fear of them.... Some say, 'There
+were three, their dog the fourth;' others say, 'Five, their dog the
+sixth,' guessing at the secret; others say, 'Seven, and their dog the
+eighth.' Say, 'My Lord best knoweth the number: none save a few shall
+know them.' Therefore be clear in thy discussions about them, and ask
+not any Christian concerning them. Haply, my Lord will guide me that I
+may come near to the truth of this story with correctness.... And they
+tarried in this cave three hundred years, and nine years over."</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour brought us back to A&iuml;asulouk and the mosque of Sultan
+Selim. Here everything seemed still more quiet than when we left. Even
+the storks were sitting or standing in a meditative posture, not one
+flying about. The railway porters and some rayahs were lying on the
+platform in the enjoyment of their midday slumbers, their heads and
+faces carefully wrapped up in their capotes, while their bare, bronzed
+shanks and huge feet, in shapeless red shoes, projected in what seemed
+absurd disproportion to the rest of their bodies. I must make an
+exception. There was one wide-awake individual awaiting us, the owner of
+the horses. He was no sooner paid for the hire of his animals than,
+tying them fast, he went into the miserable little caf&eacute;; and we found
+the animals still made fast, still saddled, unwatered and unfed, when we
+took the evening train, the owner being descried in the house of
+entertainment at work at a nargileh, and evidently the worse for raki.</p>
+
+<p>It is rather a difficult thing to acknowledge, in the face of the great
+ruins then about us, with all their associations, that the thought of
+our dinner was by this time uppermost in the minds of nearly all our
+company. I have generally found, however, in much journeying about this
+wicked world, that the amount of condescension and interest with which
+one looks upon ancient remains depends very much upon the company in
+which one finds one's self, the state of the weather and the state of
+one's stomach.</p>
+
+<p>Our worthy entertainer was a man of the world, and understood this
+little trait of humanity; so he led us straight to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> roofless mosque,
+where we were shaded from the afternoon sun, but at the same time had
+his cheerful reflection from the upper part of the marble walls, from
+which trailed and waved lovely vines and parasites. There we found,
+spread upon a spotless cloth which rested on a clean-swept though
+cracked pavement parqueted in different marbles, a most delightful and
+plentiful luncheon. Shawls and rugs were placed, and we fell to at once,
+the Armenian lady playing her part as manfully as she had done in the
+saddle, and causing grilled fowls, kibabs and claret-cup to disappear in
+a way which reflected upon the capacity of some of the males of the
+party.</p>
+
+<p>We had nearly finished our repast when a gypsy-woman peeped in at one of
+the doorways, but with instinctive good manners retired again until we
+had done with dessert and cigarettes were lighted. Then she came into
+the huge unroofed hall in which we were, and brought a pretty girl of
+about twelve and a boy of ten, who danced for our amusement a wild sort
+of prance with a castanet accompaniment. The mother then begged leave to
+divine our fortunes from the coffee-grounds in the cups, with the
+contents of which we had just wound up our feast. There is this
+difference between Levantine coffee and that made in our Western World:
+<i>grounds</i> are essential to the one, and are eagerly shaken up and
+swallowed, while in our parts the grounds are the opprobrium of the
+cook. There were, however, grounds enough left for the gypsy. But she
+made a very mild use of them mostly, predicting "good health and a good
+fig-season" to an American officer who did not grow figs and who had the
+constitution of a horse. Then she took a handful of pebbles, shells and
+the small cubes of stone extracted from ancient mosaic floors, and threw
+them broadcast upon a very dirty cotton handkerchief, predicting from
+their relative positions the fortunes of the two young ladies. As
+interpreted by one of the servants the prediction was decidedly hazy. It
+may have lost in being translated, but it amounted to this: "Him husband
+hab&mdash;werry good: plenty piastre got." A very small gratuity sent our
+gypsy friend off perfectly satisfied after salaams and kissing the hands
+of all the men of the party. Nobody ever kisses women's hands in the
+East&mdash;at least in public.</p>
+
+<p>The conscientious member of the party, who "understood we had come
+mainly to inspect the ruins, and not for a picnic," and who had all day
+been very uncomfortable at the slight put upon antiquity by our light
+conduct in the face of so many centuries, now insisted upon at least a
+glance at the fine ruins in which we then were. They were well worthy of
+a close inspection, but I don't propose to inflict a description upon
+the reader. I may, however, mention a particularly picturesque minaret
+of very solid construction. Up the winding steps of this we all filed
+except the fat lady, who sat on the pavement below cross-legged, smoking
+a cigarette and smiling up at us benignly through the blue wreaths
+circling round her head from under the Paris hat.</p>
+
+<p>After enjoying the view of the plain and the encircling hills with the
+satisfaction of persons who had "done" the thing and had not to do it
+again, we began to inspect the minaret itself and the dressed stone
+parapet against which we leaned; and there we found the name of the
+everlasting English (or American) snob who seems to pervade the universe
+for the sake of cutting or writing his name and the date of his visit
+upon every coign of vantage to which he can get access. Our Armenian
+friend, Mr. A&mdash;&mdash;, pointed out that there were few Italian names in this
+record of fools, and scarcely any French or German; but Herostratus
+appears weak in comparison with our English and American travellers in
+the desire for cheap fame, for he had only to make a fire, a thing done
+in a very few moments, while the travelling snob must have worked
+industriously for an hour or two, and made his hands very sore, and
+probably spoiled a knife, in satisfying his aspirations.</p>
+
+<p>The portals of this mosque are very fine. No doubt the greater part of
+the material for the building came from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> ruins of Ephesus, but the
+portals and other principal points are of original design, and most
+undoubtedly erected by true architects and sculptors. They are
+Saracenic, not quite up to the examples we find in Spain and in Sicily,
+and in a modified and debased form in Morocco and elsewhere on the coast
+of Barbary. The inscriptions from the Koran are most elaborately and
+beautifully cut, and still in excellent preservation. The Moslem
+peasantry would not touch them, and the Christian rayahs are afraid to
+do so. There are, of course, no figures of men, or even of animals, but
+the charmingly correct arches and doorways, and the delicate tracery
+above them intermingled with Arabic characters, give a lightness to the
+portals which is hardly to be found anywhere east of the Alhambra or the
+Sevillian Alcazar.</p>
+
+<p>But I must leave the ruins, for by this time the sun was sinking, giving
+the plain on which so many important events had occurred a more weird
+and deserted look than ever. The <i>cavass</i> in charge of the servants was
+beginning to be fussy, in fear that while we were dawdling about the one
+train might come and go, and the <i>sitts</i> and <i>effendis</i> be left to the
+limited accommodations of A&iuml;asulouk for the night. So we filed down to
+the station, the servants preceding us with the hampers upon their
+heads, and the Armenian lady stepping out after them fresh and
+fair&mdash;indeed, much fresher than most of us, who were rather tired after
+the unusual exertions of the day.</p>
+
+<p>As we retraced our morning's track we saw the same black tents of the
+Yourouks and Bedawee, the smoke from the fires of which mingled with the
+evening exhalations from the valley. Hundreds of sheep, horses and
+camels were now gathering close about the tents which had seemed so
+entirely deserted as we passed in the morning. There was no other moving
+thing to be seen as we rode north and the evening closed in&mdash;no lights
+in peasants' houses or fires on their hearths, for the Levantines are
+"early to bed and early to rise;" in addition to which custom they have,
+under the present paternal rule, acquired the habit of remaining as much
+out of sight as possible.</p>
+
+<p>When we came into the station at Smyrna the night had fallen. A few
+flickering lamps and lanterns made the darkness visible, and except the
+porters and necessary officials there was not a soul there, Turk or
+Frank, to take the slightest interest in our movements. The place was
+perfectly deserted and dismal. At last we saw lights approaching, and
+another cavass (belonging to our excellent consul) appeared with lots of
+lanterns and men "with staves and swords," as becometh a Levantine
+consul, and, escorted by these, we walked a long way over the rough,
+slippery paving-stones before we reached the Armenian and Greek
+quarters. Here people were seen sitting in family groups at their doors
+and windows, gossiping with their neighbors and enjoying such evening
+air as is afforded by the streets of Smyrna. But they showed, at any
+rate, some human interest and enjoyment of life, and we must remember
+that they had been accustomed to the smells from childhood. Perhaps the
+weaker ones had all died off, for those we saw were very stout and
+hearty. In all respects their streets presented a pleasant contrast to
+the dark, filthy, windowless, cheerless lanes in the Turkish town, with
+the skulking, snarling, mangy dogs disputing one's right of way, and an
+occasional encounter with a scowling Moslem, lantern in hand and
+homeward bound, who drew up to the wall, and showed by the gleam of our
+lanterns upon his yellow face that he inwardly cursed us all for
+Giaours, and wondered that Allah in His providence permitted us to
+exist. In fact, the Anatolian Turk is still a good Mohammedan of the
+time of Solyman, and not one of the degenerate race of Stamboul.</p>
+
+<p class='right'>E.S.</p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p>
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="A_BIRD_STORY" id="A_BIRD_STORY"></a>A BIRD STORY.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Visible from my study-window, and less than a stone's throw away, is a
+cottage, all tree-embowered and vine-covered, which its owners call "The
+Nest." All over the house, wherever a bird-box can be placed, there you
+are sure to find one. These little homes nestle under the eaves among
+the supporting brackets; they hide under the nooks of the gables; they
+are perched above the windows; they are indeed to be found wherever you
+would be likely to look for them, and in a good many places where you
+would never think of looking. Besides these bird-boxes on the house,
+there are bird-boxes in the trees, bird-boxes airily placed on high
+poles&mdash;bird-boxes in all forms, from the plain four-sided salt-box to
+the elaborate Swiss chalet and the pretentious be-spired and be-columned
+meeting-house. Then there are bird-cages&mdash;pretty brass cages, with
+tarlatan petticoats to keep the seeds from flying out, and tied with
+such dainty bows of ribbon that one has no need to be told there is a
+woman in the house; there are capacious cages in which brown
+mocking-birds sit all day long echoing back the other birds' songs they
+hear; there are dainty glass cages from Venice, in which Java sparrows
+carry on their ceaseless love-making, billing and cooing for hours and
+hours, as if all life to them was an interminable honeymoon. There is
+also a great white parrot, who, perched in a brass ring, mutters and
+mutters to himself for hours, and hums snatches of tunes, and calls
+imaginary dogs and visionary cats; and when he sees a certain manly form
+coming up the garden-walk is wont to cry out in a miserable mockery of
+tenderness, "Oh, my darling! I'm <i>so</i> glad to see you!" and then smack
+his bill as near like a kiss as he can, and chuckle and laugh and turn
+somersaults, and otherwise disport himself as parrots do when they are
+pleased.</p>
+
+<p>And while all this is going on there comes running out of the house a
+pretty little figure in a fresh muslin dress and with outstretched arms;
+and, strangely enough, she says just what Polly has said, and there is a
+kiss that is no imitation, and a responsive kiss that fairly puts Polly
+to shame; but the bird chuckles and laughs nevertheless.</p>
+
+<p>When all this takes place&mdash;and it is no more of an event than the daily
+home-coming of our good neighbor and dear friend Arthur Sterling, Esq.,
+barrister-at-law,&mdash;when this home-coming takes place, all the birds at
+The Nest break forth into a merrier song&mdash;get so enthusiastic in their
+pipings that you'd think, to hear them, that they would split their
+throats; and still gladder and sweeter and merrier than their song is
+the voice of our dear neighbor's wife, Mistress May Sterling, who pours
+forth, in a ceaseless chattering song, a whole day's accumulation of
+love&mdash;yes indeed, a whole lifetime's accumulation; and while the
+rippling flow goes on their two fond hearts sing louder with joy than
+any birds would ever dare to think of singing.</p>
+
+<p>How they love the birds! And why not? Since but for a little bird they
+would not have been together in this sweet little nest, outbilling and
+outcooing the Java sparrows, dwelling in the land of Love's young dream,
+in the sunshine of each other's affection, and ready to declare upon
+oath that there is no night in their lives that isn't radiant with the
+sheen of the honeymoon.</p>
+
+<p>And now I'll tell you the story of a little bird as Mistress May
+Sterling told it to me one evening while her Arthur and I smoked our
+cigars in the moonlight on The Nest's piazza. No: on the whole, Mistress
+Sterling shall tell the story herself: she tells it much better than I
+can.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," she says, "I'll tell it: why not? I love to tell it, for,
+taken altogether, it is the best story I ever heard of.&mdash;Kiss me,
+dear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Arthur having done as he was bidden, Mrs. Sterling begins at once, and
+all you and I have to do is to listen:</p>
+
+<p>"When I was young and giddy&mdash;ever and ever so long ago, of course:
+indeed I was quite a girl then, only eighteen&mdash;I was, as you may
+imagine, quite a pet with my father&mdash;don't laugh, Arthur: you know I
+was&mdash;and quite a belle too, I can assure you, with lots of young men
+flinging themselves at my feet and swearing all kinds of oaths about
+fidelity and everlasting affection, and all the other things that young
+and enthusiastic&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And inexperienced," put in Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't interrupt me, sir. Where was I? Oh yes!&mdash;that young and
+enthusiastic and inexperienced people are accustomed to swear. And my
+father, who was very stern and had old-fashioned notions&mdash;and has now,
+for that matter, dear old papa!&mdash;said that, whatever befell, he would
+not on any account give the least encouragement or the slightest
+permission to any lover till I was past twenty years old. Not that I
+cared, only it was such fun to hear the men talk, and me looking
+unutterable things and saying softly, 'You must never say anything to me
+on this subject again till you have papa's consent: he would be very
+angry if he knew what you've said already'! You see, I knew papa's
+will&mdash;it is unchangeable as granite: at least I thought it was&mdash;and I
+felt perfectly safe.</p>
+
+<p>"This was, you know&mdash;no, you don't know&mdash;but it was the year I came out
+in society. And I used to go to receptions and all sorts of things with
+papa, and receive his company, and sit at the head of the table, and
+keep house, just as my mother would have done if she'd been living. I
+hardly remember mamma: I was not four years old when she died. And
+society and people's admiration seemed so glorious! I declared I'd never
+marry, but go on to the end of my days saying 'No' to any man that asked
+me, and enjoying such a lot of pity for the poor fellows. I deliberately
+hardened my heart, as many a girl does at that age, and fairly
+pitied&mdash;yes, actually pitied&mdash;the girls that were so weak as to fall in
+love and get married. I think papa used to encourage me in the feeling,
+for he didn't like to think of losing me out of the house, and he a
+judge and a Congressman, and having ever so much company, and nobody but
+dear old-fashioned Aunt Jane to help him receive them if I was to leave
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"When father was re-elected to Congress we had a glorious reception at
+our house in the country, and among others that came to it was a Mr.
+Sterling, the son of my father's college chum, and a promising young
+sprig of the law, father said. He came to stay a day or two in the house
+as a visitor before the reception, and was to leave the morning after it
+took place."</p>
+
+<p>At this point in the narrative Mr. Arthur bethought him of a letter he
+must write, and begged to be excused for a time&mdash;a piece of rare good
+sense on his part, considering how much the story had to do with
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"During his stay we had been a good deal together. I had been his guide
+to all the famous spots in the neighborhood, and he had been chatty and
+bright, and amused me greatly. We had a little chat in the conservatory
+that evening of the reception, and I told him I was sorry to have him
+leave.</p>
+
+<p>"'Thank you,' he said. 'I would rather hear you say that than anything
+you could have said, except one.'</p>
+
+<p>"'What is that, pray?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"'That you would like to see me here again.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh,' I replied, 'I never give invitations: papa does that. Of course
+he'll be glad to see you again.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And you?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, since you insist upon my saying it, I shall be glad too: you
+amuse me greatly.'</p>
+
+<p>"'So might a tight-rope performer or a performing dog, I suppose?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No: I don't care for such amusements. I like to hear the talk of
+bright men, and you strike me as a very bright man.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It is only the reflection of yourself, Miss Bronson,' he said in a
+cold society tone, which, strange to say, pained me, and I replied that
+I didn't care for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>compliments: I had plenty of them, and they palled on
+me.</p>
+
+<p>"Then he said, 'Do you want me to tell you the truth, the out-and-out
+truth&mdash;the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God?'</p>
+
+<p>"'That's an oath, Mr. Sterling,' I said: 'don't commit yourself.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I do commit myself&mdash;I came here to commit myself. I want you to hear
+me out and believe that I realize fully the solemnity of what I am
+saying. I have sought this opportunity to tell you that I love you, Miss
+Bronson.'</p>
+
+<p>"Strangely enough, I wasn't the least moved: I don't think my heart beat
+the least bit faster; and I said, 'Why, Mr. Sterling, how can you know
+anything about me? How can you love me, when you've known me only two
+days, and seen me always on my best behavior? I am a very unlovable
+person: if you only knew me well you'd soon find it out. Of course, if
+you love me, it is all very well for you to tell me so, but I can't
+understand why you should.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Is that all you have to say to me, Miss Bronson?' he asked earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, what can I say? You don't know me, and I don't know you; and you
+think you love me, and I don't love you at all. I'm fond of you in a
+certain way, to be sure, but love is quite a different thing. I never
+shall love anybody very much except papa: I never intend to. I'm very
+kind to you, Mr. Sterling, to talk to you as I do. In a few weeks, when
+you've all but forgotten my existence, you'll think of me just enough to
+be grateful to me for talking to you as I have. Love isn't a mushroom to
+spring up in a night: it is an oak to grow and grow, and only come to
+perfection after years and years. You don't love me at all, Mr.
+Sterling: you only think you do.'</p>
+
+<p>"All this time he stood silent, looking more awkward than I ever saw him
+before or have seen him since. Then he put out his hand and said, 'I'll
+bid you good-bye, Miss Bronson: I'm going early in the morning. I shall
+not see you then, so I'll say good-bye now. I am going abroad in a few
+days.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Abroad! where?' I hadn't heard of it, and I felt a strange sort of
+pang&mdash;of surprise, I thought.</p>
+
+<p>"'To Leipsic, to finish my studies. I shall be gone a considerable
+time&mdash;two years at least. When I return I shall come to you and repeat
+what I've said to-night.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh no, you won't: you'll forget all about it. I'd much rather you
+would. Please don't feel bound to come back: I release you from your
+oath, and I shall not expect you.'</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know what more we might have said, but there was a flutter
+among the vines by the door, and we thought some one was near us. We
+were just returning into the adjoining dining-room when a little brown
+bird flew out into the light, and, hopping about among the flowers,
+began chirping in a sad sort of way that caught our attention at once.</p>
+
+<p>"'It is only the little widow,' I said.</p>
+
+<p>"'Lost her mate, eh?' Arthur said carelessly. He wasn't Arthur then, you
+know, but Mr. Sterling.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes: he's deserted her. She built here in the vines last spring when
+the conservatory was all thrown open. They were such a pair of lovers,
+she and her mate! She raised two broods of little ones, and it was quite
+a domestic revelation for me to see them, they seemed so fond of each
+other, and so happy, and so loving. But a month ago, when the plants
+were brought in and the cold nights began to come on, he left her, and
+she has been sad and heartbroken ever since.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Perhaps he'll come back to her by and by,' said Arthur.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh no: he'll no more come back to her than you'll come back to me.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Then he's sure to come,' replied Arthur; and just then my father came
+to look for me and bid me join the other guests.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't see Arthur again that night, and the next day he was gone. I
+never missed anybody so much. Nobody and nothing seemed to fill his
+place. I went into the room he had occupied, and found there a glove
+that he had left behind. I took it to my room and said, 'I'll keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> it
+for him till he comes back.' I tried to speak lightly, and was surprised
+and angry at myself that the trivial thought seemed to mean so much.</p>
+
+<p>"The winter wore on, and the little forsaken bird remained in the
+conservatory, and sometimes would fly into the room, and I felt a lonely
+sort of sympathy with it. I used to take the bird in my hand sometimes
+and call it a poor thing, and talk to it, and tell it that it was no
+worse off than many a poor girl or many a young wife, for men were like
+her mate, and promised all sorts of things they didn't mean, and
+couldn't be faithful if they tried. After a while we went to Washington,
+and I saw a great many people and received a great deal of attention.
+The Prussian ambassador had a brother visiting him&mdash;a Baron
+Dumbkopf&mdash;very handsome, very rich, very distingu&eacute;, and soon very
+attentive to me. He was constantly at our house, and he was agreeable
+enough and easy to talk to, and very obedient, and very seldom a bore. I
+rather liked him, and papa liked him exceedingly. I wasn't at all
+surprised when one day he suddenly became sentimental and ended by
+offering me his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"'Have you spoken with my father on this subject?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"He had not: would I give him permission to do so? I told him that I
+should not even consider his proposition for a moment till he had talked
+with my father; that I never intended to marry without my father's
+consent; and as for falling in love, I was sure I should never do that.</p>
+
+<p>"So he went away to talk with my father, and I felt safe. I hadn't an
+idea papa would do as he did, you see; but the truth is, papas are not
+to be depended upon&mdash;at least, not always.</p>
+
+<p>"The next day my father called me into the library and asked me if I
+loved Baron Dumbkopf.</p>
+
+<p>"'No,' I said, 'I don't love him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you like him?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Do you dislike him?'</p>
+
+<p>"'No: I am quite indifferent to him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'He is of a very good family and of excellent character,' said my
+father.</p>
+
+<p>"'I know all that,' I replied. 'Do you wish me to marry him, papa?'</p>
+
+<p>"'I can't say that I wish you to, my daughter, but if you loved him I
+should be pleased for you to have such a husband.'</p>
+
+<p>"I was never more surprised in my life. Then he told me a great many
+things about the baron&mdash;how universally he was esteemed, what a position
+he held in society, how wealthy he was, how honorable and how good.
+These things I knew before. They certainly had weight with me in favor
+of the baron: I think they would have had with almost any girl. I asked
+my father if he had given the baron any encouragement, and he replied
+that he had left everything between the baron and myself for settlement.</p>
+
+<p>"The next evening the German came again to woo me with my father's
+sanction. He became very earnest, and I told him that I would not, could
+not, give him any hope. He asked me if it might ever be otherwise, and I
+told him I thought not. 'Well,' he said, 'I shall certainly ask you
+again. I return to Germany in April, and I shall hope to carry home the
+tidings of my betrothal.'</p>
+
+<p>"It was then late in the winter, and pretty soon we returned to the
+country, for father liked to be close to Nature when it burst into its
+new life.</p>
+
+<p>"How nice it seemed to be once more in the old house! I soon found
+myself interested in my old occupations, and most of all in the care of
+the conservatory, which was then all abloom with azaleas and other
+spring-flowering plants. There too was the little widow, as sad as ever,
+but glad to see me back, and more than ready to resume the old
+friendship. We had hardly got into our old routine ways before my father
+announced one morning that the baron Dumbkopf was coming down to say
+good-bye before leaving for Germany. I knew very well what it all meant,
+and I began to think that as it was my father's wish that I should marry
+some time, and that as I could hardly find a husband more suited<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> to his
+ideas, and that as I probably should never fall in love, I might as well
+accept him as anybody. Then I began to think of Arthur. Thoughts of the
+two men crossed and recrossed in my mind, closely woven like the threads
+in a cloth. I used to go and look at his glove and talk to the little
+bird-widow about him, and really was quite angry with myself for having
+him so much in my mind and he so long gone.</p>
+
+<p>"At last the baron came. He was a splendid-looking man, and his manners
+were perfect. These things tell for so much with girls! He came, and one
+morning&mdash;I remember it well: it was a cold, blowy spring morning&mdash;he
+found me alone in the conservatory and renewed his suit. I was petting
+the little bird when he found me, and he said, 'Dear little bird! he is
+to be envied in having so much tenderness shown him.'</p>
+
+<p>"'It is a female bird,' I said, 'and a forsaken bird, for its mate has
+flown away and left it broken-hearted;' and I began at once to think of
+Arthur, and fell into a reverie.</p>
+
+<p>"The baron interpreted my little speech and my subsequent silence as
+favorable to himself. He really thought I was beginning to pity myself
+because he was going away. 'Ah,' he said, 'you know why I have come?'</p>
+
+<p>"'To say good-bye,' I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"'Perhaps, but to say first that I love you still, and to ask you to be
+my wife.'</p>
+
+<p>"My heart beat rapidly now, and I think the little bird that I was
+holding to my bosom must have felt it, for it began to chirp in a low
+murmur as if it would comfort me.</p>
+
+<p>"'Give me a little time to think,' I said; and, strangely enough, all my
+thinking was of Arthur and his going away, and his promised return; and
+then I said to myself, 'What folly! he has forgotten me. If he had loved
+me he wouldn't have gone till he had my word of love in return. He's
+forgotten all about me.'</p>
+
+<p>"The baron was gaining ground with me: I was reasoning myself into
+something above esteem for him, and I turned to put my hand in his,
+when there was a tap at the window, and the little bird, struggling from
+my hand, burst into such a flood of singing that the whole place was
+drowned with melody.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh,' I cried, 'her mate has come back! her mate has come back! He is
+fluttering against the window. Do let him in, baron, the poor dear,
+happy little thing!' and I sat down among the azaleas and the budding
+Easter lilies and cried like a baby.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor baron did let the little bird in, and side by side we
+witnessed the joy of their meeting, expressed in a hundred tender little
+caresses.</p>
+
+<p>"At last the baron said, 'You forget, Miss Bronson, you haven't given me
+my answer.'</p>
+
+<p>"'And I can't answer you now,' I said. 'Please forget me. Indeed, I
+don't know what to say to you: I believe I shall say No.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Don't say anything,' he replied. 'I have done wrong. I have not given
+you time to think. I must go now, but a year from now I shall ask you
+the same question again, and then you must say Yes or No; and God grant
+it may be the first!'</p>
+
+<p>"'You are very good,' I said; 'and a year hence I will tell you if I can
+be your wife or not.'</p>
+
+<p>"So the baron went away, and he had hardly been gone a week when I was
+ashamed of having been so much affected by the bird's return. The idea
+of believing in omens! Then a little time further on there came a letter
+from a friend of mine in Leipsic which mentioned Arthur Sterling, spoke
+of him as a young man very popular in society&mdash;you know Arthur is most
+fascinating&mdash;and said that he was very attentive to a young American
+girl there, a beautiful blond: they were seen everywhere together, and
+report said he was to marry her.</p>
+
+<p>"'It is a lie!' I said to myself: 'he promised to come back to me.' And
+then I said again, 'Why should I be angry? why should I believe him? I
+hardly knew him, and most men are false.' I was such a silly girl, I
+thought. Then father was always speaking of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> baron: I could see that
+he was sorry I had not accepted him at once. And Aunt Jane, she had to
+talk to me about it, and say that she couldn't last long, and that
+father was getting old, and that I ought to think about getting married,
+and&mdash;Well, you know how women talk to each other about marrying.
+Considering that Aunt Jane had never thought of marrying herself, it
+oughtn't to have had much weight with me, but it did.</p>
+
+<p>"The year wore on. Of course I thought a great deal about Arthur, but I
+thought a good deal about the baron too. The little bird was no longer
+lonesome; and as she and her mate had built themselves a nest, and had
+domestic duties to perform in rearing a brood of young ones, they were
+too much wrapped up in their own affairs to be very companionable. But
+when autumn came again, and the leaves were falling and the cold winds
+blew out of the north, that foolish little mate flew off to the south,
+and the little forsaken thing came back into the conservatory and wanted
+to be comforted. And we did comfort her as best we could. All the winter
+through she was in and out from the conservatory to the dining-room,
+becoming very friendly and answering to her name instantly: papa had
+named her Niobe.</p>
+
+<p>"In due course of time the early spring came round again, and one April
+morning there came a letter from the baron. He asked me for my answer:
+should he come and take me with him to his German home? I showed the
+letter to papa, and all he said was, 'My daughter, he would make you an
+excellent husband&mdash;such a one as your poor mother would wish for you
+were she alive. I hope you'll consider the matter well before you say
+No.'</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it all over. Why not? Yes, I would write to the baron and say
+Yes. Arthur was away; he'd never come back; he was in love with that
+pretty blond. Was it likely I was going to ruin my life for him? I had
+too much sense for that. I would just go and throw his old glove into
+the fire and all thoughts of him to the winds. So I went for the glove,
+and kissed it&mdash;foolish thing!&mdash;and put it back in my treasure-box, and
+went on thinking of Arthur more than ever. Then I remonstrated with
+myself for my foolishness, and took my writing-desk in my lap and sat
+down in the conservatory to write to the baron. I began my letter 'My
+dear Arthur,' and then had to begin again, and started fairly with 'My
+dear baron.' Then I tried to frame a proper sentence to start with, but
+that desolate little bird came flying to my shoulder, and chirped so
+sadly and so persistently that it put me all out.</p>
+
+<p>"'Oh, you poor foolish little thing!' I said: 'anybody would think there
+were no other birds in the world but your faithless mate.'</p>
+
+<p>"The bird fluttered and chirped and talked with a purring song, which I
+fancied to say, 'Oh, my poor heart! poor heart! poor broken heart!
+Alas!' and it was such a strong impression that I put my hand to my own
+heart and held on there, while I laid my head on one side till it
+touched the feathers of the bird on my shoulder; and so we sat silently
+musing.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think roused us? There was a quick fluttering in the bird's
+breast. She flew away from my shoulder: she flew to the top of the
+highest azalea, and she sung&mdash;oh, how she sung! Joy, victory over doubt,
+faith crowned, glimpses of heaven in the spring sunlight,&mdash;they were all
+in that song. I knew in a minute what had come. I threw open the sash,
+and out of the sunshine, borne in with the odors of the new grass and
+budding trees, came a little brown bird, tired as from a long journey,
+but with a song of greeting that overtopped even the song of welcome
+that awaited him.</p>
+
+<p>"I watched them a moment, as if in a spell, and then I tore up my letter
+to the baron and tossed it among the flowers; and the tears came in my
+eyes, and I said aloud, 'Oh, Arthur, I do love you&mdash;I know I do! If you
+don't come back I shall die.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Then, dear, you shall not die, for I am here;' and the foolish
+boy&mdash;for it was Arthur come back and stolen upon me to surprise me&mdash;put
+his dear strong arms about me, and I was ready to faint, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> cried a
+little on his shoulder, and he kissed me, and we went in to papa and
+talked it all over; and he told me about his finishing his studies and
+hurrying home, and all about the blond, a cousin of his who was out in
+Leipsic with her mother studying music, and they'd made a home for him,
+and said I should know them and they should know me; and it was all
+lovely. And the result of it all is, here we are, and we love birds, and
+we love each other. And do you wonder at it? And here's Arthur, coming
+back from his letters. And, and&mdash;Come and kiss me, Arthur."</p>
+
+<p>And so the little lady finished with a kiss, as she had begun, and the
+parrot moved uneasily on his perch at being disturbed with conversation
+at so late an hour, and the Java sparrows twittered a little; and I rose
+to go, only asking, "And the baron?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! he's married since&mdash;such a lovely wife!&mdash;and I dare say is as
+grateful to the bird as Arthur and I. You see, he was only
+infatuated&mdash;Arthur and I were in love."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night," from me.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, good-night," from them; and I heard another kiss as I went
+down the walk.</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Wm. M.F. Round.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><a name="THE_MOCKING-BIRD" id="THE_MOCKING-BIRD"></a>THE MOCKING-BIRD.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A golden pallor of voluptuous light<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Filled the warm Southern night:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The moon, clear orbed, above the sylvan scene<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Moved like a stately queen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So rife with conscious beauty all the while,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">What could she do but smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At her own perfect loveliness below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Glassed in the tranquil flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of crystal fountains and unruffled streams?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Half lost in waking dreams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As down the loneliest forest-dell I strayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lo! from a neighboring glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flashed through the drifts of moonshine, swiftly came<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A fairy shape of flame.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It rose in dazzling spirals overhead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Whence, to wild sweetness wed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poured marvellous melodies, silvery trill on trill:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The very leaves grew still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the charmed trees to hearken; while for me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Heart-thrilled to ecstasy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I followed&mdash;followed the bright shape that flew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Still circling up the blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till as a fountain that has reached its height<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Falls back, in sprays of light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Slowly dissolved, so that enrapturing lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Divinely melts away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through tremulous spaces to a music-mist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Soon by the fitful breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">How gently kissed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into remote and tender silences.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Paul H. Hayne.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="POPULAR_MARRIAGE_CUSTOMS_OF_SICILY" id="POPULAR_MARRIAGE_CUSTOMS_OF_SICILY"></a>POPULAR MARRIAGE CUSTOMS OF SICILY.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The customs of the Sicilian people in regard to the celebration of
+marriages are so numerous and so strange that were I to attempt to
+describe them all I should furnish not only the material for a volume,
+but also for a series of quaint pictures. I shall not pretend to collect
+the most of them, but only present a few which will awaken, I trust,
+some interest in those who study popular traditions and the comparative
+history of customs and usages.</p>
+
+<p>Let us begin by supposing two young people in love with each other. The
+parents of the young girl are aware of the fact, but have shut their
+eyes because the match is a good and fitting one. When, on taking her
+daughter to mass, the mother has noticed her blush on meeting the young
+man more than once, she has pretended not to notice it. At night she has
+heard some love-song at the door, and seen that her daughter was the
+first to awaken at it, but has remained oblivious of this also. She
+knows all, and pretends to know nothing&mdash;sees her daughter careful about
+her dress, often hears mentioned a name dear to her, mentions it herself
+with praise, and contributes without seeming to do so to increase that
+love which sooner or later becomes a subject of conversation to
+neighbors, to friends, to all. The matter is known, and it is time for
+the parents of the young man to go or send to the parents of the young
+girl to ask her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Here begins the business of the future marriage. The young man's mother
+visits the girl's mother, and gives her to understand that they wish to
+make the match, and therefore would like to know whether their proposal
+is agreeable and what dower the girl will have. The other mother, after
+the usual compliments have been exchanged, either gives at once, or
+promises to give, a memorandum of all that she is able to bestow on her
+daughter as dower.</p>
+
+<p>This is the most usual way of arranging a marriage, but the manner
+formerly varied, and still varies, in places. In Noto, in the province
+of Syracuse, fifty years ago the mother of the young man put under her
+Greek mantle the reed of a loora, and going to the house of a young girl
+asked her mother if she had a reed like that. If the match was
+acceptable, the reed was found at once: if not, there was no reed, or
+they could not find it, or they would look for it.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> In the county of
+Modica the mother selected the future daughter-in-law by trial. She went
+to one of the young girls of the neighborhood, and if she found her busy
+the matter was settled: if idle, she went home again, repeating three
+times the word <i>abrenuntio</i>, Sicilianized as well as possible.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p>
+
+<p>The memorandum above mentioned, written, according to traditional usage,
+by some one for this particular occasion, is sent wrapped up in a silk
+handkerchief which belongs by right to the young man. As soon as the
+memorandum is sent and accepted the announcement of the engagement or
+the betrothal takes place. On this occasion the relatives of the parties
+are present, and at the proper moment one of the parents of the young
+girl announces in a solemn tone the future marriage, and makes known the
+time (generally it is a matter of years) which will elapse before it is
+celebrated. Everything is religiously accepted by the guests and the
+interested parties, and after congratulations have been offered a
+banquet or supper (technically termed <i>trattamento</i>, "entertainment")
+takes place, in which a sort of fried pastry called <i>sfincuini</i> plays an
+important part, accompanied by filberts, almonds and chestnuts. The
+whole is washed down by copious draughts of wine.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p><p>The manner in which the betrothal is celebrated is sometimes very
+curious. At Salaparuta, in the province of Trapani, the girl takes her
+place in the centre of the room: her future mother-in-law then enters
+and parts her hair, places a ring on her finger, gives her a
+handkerchief and kisses her. At Assaro, in the province of Catania, the
+young man presents his betrothed with a red ribbon, which she braids
+into her hair as a sign of her betrothal, and does not leave off until
+the wedding. This custom is observed in many places in Sicily, and is
+called the <i>'nzingata</i> (from <i>'nzinga</i>, "sign"). In the county of Modica
+the girl is veiled in a broad white veil, tied under the chin with a
+purple ribbon. This custom of the ribbon (also called '<i>ntrizzaturi</i>,
+"head-dress") often takes the place of the formal proposal and
+announcement of the betrothal. In a popular song a young man in making
+love to a girl offers her a red ribbon, which is the same as offering
+her his hand.<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> As soon as the betrothal has taken place, the <i>fianc&eacute;</i>
+must think at once about a present for his <i>fianc&eacute;e</i>. This varies, of
+course, according to the ability and taste of the giver. Formerly it was
+a tortoise-shell comb, a silver needlecase, a silk handkerchief,
+ear-rings, finger-rings, gloves, etc. Now-a-days nothing is left but
+rings and a certain silver arrangement to support the hair, and called,
+like the ribbon above mentioned, <i>'ntrizzaturi</i>. In Milazzo and its
+territory the fianc&eacute; makes a present of a small gold cross for the neck,
+an engagement-ring and a dish of fish.</p>
+
+<p>The fianc&eacute;e returns the gift, usually with under-clothing,
+handkerchiefs, etc. During the betrothal, while the lovers are enjoying
+their love, the fianc&eacute; does not let the principal festivals of the year
+pass without expressing his affection by suitable presents&mdash;at Easter, a
+piece of pastry containing an egg, or a little wax lamb; on the feast of
+St. Peter, keys made of pastry, with honey or confectionery or cinnamon,
+according to the ability of the giver. On All Souls' Day he gives candy,
+fruit, etc.; on St. Martin's, a kind of biscuit named after the saint;
+at Christmas, cakes and pastry containing dried fruit; and finally, for
+his fianc&eacute;e's birthday, something still finer.</p>
+
+<p>We have now reached the eve of the wedding, and the time has arrived for
+the valuation of the bride's trousseau&mdash;a ceremony known by different
+names in different parts of Sicily, but usually termed <i>stima</i>. Let us
+enter for a moment the house of the bride. Everything is in a pleasant
+state of confusion. Friends and relatives of the betrothed have been
+invited to the ceremony, and take part in it with an air of satisfied
+curiosity. Upon the large bed of the bride's mother is displayed the
+trousseau, sorted according to the various articles composing it, while
+from lines stretched across the room hang the dresses and suits of
+clothes. Near by are tables, chairs and chests of drawers. A woman
+called the <i>stimatura</i> ("appraiser") examines each article of the outfit
+and appraises its value, announcing the approximate price, sometimes
+publicly, sometimes secretly to the accountant. The appraisal is final,
+and generally in favor of the fianc&eacute;e, for the value of the trousseau
+goes to increase the dower. Not infrequently the mother of the fianc&eacute;
+complains of the exaggerations of the <i>stimatura</i>, and disagreeable
+recriminations follow. Finally, the parents of the bride bestow on her a
+certain number of "ounces,"<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> which the <i>stimatura</i> announces in a
+solemn tone. If the parents have anything else to give their daughter in
+the way of money or silver, they announce it with the utmost gravity,
+while the fianc&eacute;, for his part, declares that he will give his wife
+after his death the sum of twenty or thirty ounces as a gift. This
+present is known at Salaparuta by the name of <i>buon amore</i>, at Palermo
+as <i>verginista'</i>&mdash;true <i>pretium sanguinis</i> which the giver does not
+possess, and which the wife will never receive. At this valuation, in
+some parts of the island, each one of the relatives offers to the
+parties gifts of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> jewelry and clothing, which are requited by similar
+gifts from the bride and groom.</p>
+
+<p>The civil marriage precedes the religious, which, however, is more
+important to the people than the former: hence the evening after the
+civil marriage the groom goes about his business as though he were not
+yet married. The religious marriage, on the contrary, is a festal
+occasion. The hour differs according to habits and family tastes. In
+Salaparuta the marriage takes place before night&mdash;in Ficarazzi, before
+daybreak, a favorite time for those contracting a second marriage. In
+Palermo the wedding formerly took place late in the evening or in the
+night, whence there was a necessity for attendants with lighted torches.
+If the Sicilian Jews preferred to go in the dark to their synagogues,
+and considered themselves favored by King Peter when in 1338 he allowed
+them to go to their weddings with a single lantern, the Christians were
+not satisfied with four or six lights, but wanted twenty or more&mdash;an
+actual procession. Frederick II. in 1292 limited the number of lights to
+twelve only, six for each party. Now, at Palermo, the wedding takes
+place at any hour of the day or night, and only the poorest walk to the
+church: the others ride in carriages paid for by those using them at so
+much apiece. In the first carriage are the bride and her mother and
+intimate friends&mdash;in the second, the other women in the order of
+relationship. The groom occupies the first place in the carriages
+assigned to the men: then come his father, brothers and others. The
+bride is dressed in various ways, and her dress is called <i>l'abitu di lu
+'nguaggiu</i> ("wedding-dress"). In Salaparuta she wears the Greek peplum,
+gathered under the arms; in Terrasini, a dress of blue or some other
+bright color; in Milazzo, a blue silk skirt with wide sleeves; in
+Palermo, a white dress, the <i>tunica alba</i> of the Romans, with a veil
+kept on the head by a wreath of orange-flowers. In Assaro (province of
+Catania) by an old baronial custom the wedding-ring is presented by a
+young man of noble family. Speaking of the wedding-ring, it may be noted
+that formerly it was carefully preserved on a table for many purposes,
+as at Valledolino the whole dress is kept to be used some day as a
+shroud.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p>
+
+<p>There are some parts of the country where the entrance to the church is
+also a ceremony. An old tradition of Palermo, grafted on a popular tale,
+informs us that in certain districts esteemed somewhat rude by the
+inhabitants of the old capital the bride entered the church on
+horseback, erect and proud.<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> In Salaparuta she enters by the lesser
+door of the cathedral and departs by the principal one, afterward
+passing beneath the belfry. In Palermo the newly-wedded pair on leaving
+the church enter the same carriage, and followed by relatives and
+friends take a drive about the city. It is on this occasion that they
+throw to their neighbors confectionery, which they are also accustomed
+to present personally. This custom is a Roman one, in spite of the fact
+that candy has taken the place of the nuts which the bridegroom bestowed
+on the children after the wedding. Outside of Palermo and other large
+cities the confectionery is replaced by roasted chickpeas, alone or
+mixed with beans, almonds, filberts, etc. On the other hand, relatives
+and friends as the bride and groom go by throw after them not only
+confectionery, but dried or roasted fruits, wheat and barley; which they
+call a sign of abundance. In Milazzo the simple ceremony is turned into
+a spectacle: when the pair come out of the church they are suddenly
+received by a perfect hail of confectionery thrown by their nearest
+relatives, from which they strive to escape by quickening their pace or
+running away.<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> In Syracuse salt and spelt are thrown as a symbol of
+wisdom, which recalls the <i>confarreatio</i> of the Romans; in Assaro, salt
+and wheat; nuts and wheat in Modicano; in Terrasini, nuts, chestnuts,
+beans and sweetmeats of honey and flour; in Camporeale, wheat alone. In
+Avola (province of Syracuse) one of the bride's most intimate lady
+friends, upon the arrival of the pair, presents the bride with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> an
+apronful of orange-leaves, and tossing them in her face exclaims,
+congratulating her, "Contentment and sons!" and scatters orange-leaves
+also over the sill where the bride must pass. Sometimes she breaks at
+her feet two eggs&mdash;a truly Oriental symbol of fruitfulness. In the
+county of Modica wine is sprinkled before the door and the bottle
+broken: when the married pair have entered, the husband is offered a
+spoonful of honey, of which he takes half and gives the rest to his
+wife. There gifts of sweetmeats, dried fruits, etc. are given to the
+guests.<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> In Avola a spoonful of honeyed almonds is presented to each
+of the lady-guests&mdash;in Marineo (province of Palermo) and in Prizzi clear
+honey and a sip or two of water.</p>
+
+<p>The house of the wedded pair is ornamented with flowers, as we learn
+from the popular Sicilian song: "Flowers of roses: the bride when she
+returns from the church finds the house adorned with flowers." The
+marriage <i>pro verbo de pr&aelig;senti in faciem ecclesi&aelig;</i> is termed
+<i>'nguaggi&agrave;risi</i> (and hence the dress above mentioned, <i>l'abitu di lu
+'nguaggiu</i>), but the contracting parties are not yet man and wife; and
+to become so it is necessary to undergo another religious ceremony,
+which consists in hearing mass and kneeling before the altar holding a
+lighted wax candle while the priest bestows on them the benediction <i>pro
+sponso et sponsa</i>. The old legal grants (<i>concessi</i>) to young girls who
+married could not, nor can they now, be claimed without this ceremony;
+and the bride does not enter into possession of the legacy which she has
+acquired until she shows to the proper person the certificate of her
+parish priest that she has been married and espoused (<i>'nguaggiatu e
+sposatu</i>). The latter ceremony may take place within a year after the
+marriage. Widows, according to the Roman ritual approved by Pope Paul
+V., were not formerly, nor are they now, ever <i>espoused</i>: nevertheless,
+in the seventeenth century there were many examples<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> of widows
+blessed a second time in the parish church of St. Hippolytus in Palermo.</p>
+
+<p>We are face to face with a newly-married couple in the midst of people
+who have a good breeding of their own; and we, who measure our words and
+are ashamed to eat our soup with a wooden spoon, must enter their
+cottage and take part in the poor but sincere, joyful and cordial
+festival of the evening. Let us betake ourselves for a short time to
+Trapani, and look in on one of those modest houses during a
+wedding-night.</p>
+
+<p>When the bride and groom return from the church they find at the house
+of the former a drink prepared from the milk of almonds and some small
+cakes. While at table the groom leaves his wife a moment to go to his
+father's house, and returns when the meal is half finished. He remains
+with her until midnight, when he takes her to his mother's, where there
+is a new celebration, similar to the one that has already taken place at
+the bride's mother's. The hour at which the groom goes for the bride is
+so scrupulously observed that any delay would be a grave cause of
+complaint, and perhaps of quarrels. The first day of the celebration is
+called the "festival of the bride" (<i>fistinu di la zita</i>), and the
+guests are all selected by the bride's mother. The second day is called
+the "festival of the groom" (<i>fistinu di lu zitu</i>), and the guests are
+all the friends of the groom. This ceremonial is, however, not so fine
+as that called "of the bride," <i>di lu macad&agrave;ru</i>. The bride, elegantly
+dressed, is seated beneath a mirror to receive the congratulations of
+her friends. At her right and left are placed seats for relatives and
+friends, arranged according to certain traditional laws which no one
+ever thinks of violating. The right side is reserved for the relatives
+of the groom; and if any one is prevented by ill-health from attending
+the festival, the seat belonging to him is either left vacant, or some
+friend is sent to occupy it, or a pomegranate is placed in it, or it is
+turned upside down. We may note, in passing, that the women alone are
+allowed to be seated in the circle: the men, of every age and rank,
+remain standing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> This custom, and especially the position assumed by
+the bride at that time, has given rise to the proverbial expression of
+comparison: <i>Pari la zita di lu macad&agrave;ru</i>, which is said of a woman in
+gala-dress.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p>
+
+<p>Let us now pass to other parts of the island and share the
+nuptial-banquet. Everywhere great quantities of macaroni or of fried
+fish are prepared, and the guests eat and drink to repletion. Even the
+most miserly are liberal on this occasion, and a proverb advises one to
+attend the weddings of the avaricious: <i>A li nozzi di l'avaru
+trovaticci</i>. The bride and groom, as can be easily imagined, have their
+heads full of other things than macaroni and fried fish. At Borghetto
+baked beans and pease are served not only to the bridal-party, but also
+to the others, to whom, during the banquet, it is the custom to send a
+dish of <i>maccarruna di zitu</i>&mdash;a dish in use also in Modica until within
+fifty years. In Assaro there are the accustomed sweetmeats, the cakes of
+honey and flour, and roast pease and almonds. At the banquet, where
+usually these things are not lacking, they begin with macaroni, which in
+Milazzo is poured out on a napkin, with cheese grated over it. Then
+follow sausages or roast meat. At the nuptial-banquet of the peasants of
+Modica a dish is placed on the table intended to receive the gifts of
+the guests for the bride: one gives money, another gold; one a ring,
+another a dollar; nor do those who come last wish to be outdone by the
+first. At the end of the banquet come the toasts, more or less lively
+and witty.</p>
+
+<p>After the banquet follows the ball, which at Favaratta is held eight
+days after the wedding. The orchestra consists of two or three violins,
+which play the whole evening, or afternoon if the marriage took place in
+the daytime. The r&eacute;pertoire is that of the people, and embraces the
+dances known as the <i>fas&ograve;la</i>,<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> the <i>tarantella</i>, the <i>tarasc&ugrave;ri</i>, the
+<i>'nglisina</i>, the <i>capona</i>, the <i>chiovu</i>, etc. In some of the towns in
+the province of Palermo it is the groom who engages the musicians and
+conducts them to the house. In Modica they dance the <i>ciovu</i> (the
+<i>chiovu</i> above mentioned) to the accompaniment not only of violins, but
+also of tambourines, etc. The groom opens the ball, holding his hat in
+his hand and making a profound bow to the bride, who rises with alacrity
+and begins to dance with all her might. The groom makes another bow and
+sits down again, and the bride, dancing alone, makes a turn round the
+room and selects a partner from the guests, who in turn choose a woman,
+and so on in graceful alternation.</p>
+
+<p>In general, in large cities, there is no one who calls out the figures
+at the ball: the musicians play what they please, unless they are asked
+to change or continue a tune that has tired or pleased any one of the
+guests. The dancing is without any rule or order: nevertheless, there is
+some regularity in its execution, especially in the pantomime that
+accompanies it. The bride and groom dance their share: the first one
+with whom the bride dances is the groom, who permits her to dance with
+others.</p>
+
+<p>An interesting subject in the history of the Sicilian people would be
+this ball after the nuptial-banquet if it could be illustrated in all
+the varieties of ancient and modern customs. Buonfiglio, the historian
+of Messina, has left us in his larger work an account of these customs
+two centuries and a half ago. The peasants, he says, have not abandoned
+the ancient custom of dancing in a crowd and in a circle to the sound of
+the lyre and flute, although these have been changed for the songs of
+the musicians; and they dance with the handkerchief, being extremely
+jealous of allowing the hands of their wives to be touched. So also with
+the collection of the presents from the relatives and guests in
+profusion; and this takes place after the groom has offered them
+something to eat three times, on which account the ovens are filled with
+meat, with kettles of rice cooked in milk, the wine constantly going the
+rounds.<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In Milazzo the dance "threatens the existence of the bride," to cite an
+historian of the place. Here, as elsewhere, the groom has a patron, a
+gentleman to whom he lends his services, and by whom he is rewarded, not
+always generously. At the ball the bride knows that if the patron or
+other gentleman of the city dance with her, he will leave a silver piece
+in her hand; and if her partner is of her own rank, it will not remain
+empty. So she summons up all the strength of her limbs and spends hours
+and hours in dancing; for dancing with the new bride that evening is an
+occasion for boasting.</p>
+
+<p>However rich the popular songs of Sicily are, they are very poor in
+nuptial-songs. Among the many thousand that have seen the light the
+following, from Cianciana and Casteltermini, is characteristic, because
+peculiar to the evening of the wedding: "Come and sing this evening to
+the bride and groom. Oh what joy! what delight! (You, O wife!) hold the
+seat of power: when the sun appears you rise. There are pleasant sights,
+with dress of gold and all embroidered. This song is sung to the bride
+and groom. Good-day! long life and health!"<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> The following song, from
+Borghetto, is a greeting to the pair on their return from the church:
+"Long live in health the bride and groom! What a beautiful and fortunate
+marriage! Let the mind be firm and the heart constant. And so we come to
+the happy day. I would that my words were as sweet as those of a song,
+and my lute well tuned! A hundred years I would sing new songs. Long
+live love and marriage!" This other song, from Palermo, a variant of one
+already published, is also an expression of good wishes for the pair:
+"Health to this excellent pair! What a fine and gallant wedding! The
+bridegroom seems like a resplendent sun, and the bride like a Greek from
+the Levant. How many obstacles there have been! The stars of heaven go
+before. Now the bride and groom are happy: the diamond is set in gold."</p>
+
+<p>At the ball the singing is done alternately by some of the guests. The
+favorite song in the cities is that of the class called <i>arie</i>&mdash;in the
+country, <i>canzoni</i>. The three songs above cited are those which are
+heard on such occasions.</p>
+
+<p>Song, dance and music alternate, and are prolonged for hours, until the
+guests are tired out and prepare to leave the bride and groom, who are
+already sleepy.</p>
+
+<p>Let the reader accompany the pair to their abode. The door is open, the
+room lighted, the bed prepared: some sighs and laments are heard among
+the bystanders. It is the mother, the married sisters (young girls do
+not accompany to her home the sister who marries), who are grieved at
+seeing their sister leave her home and become another's, uncertain of
+the lot that will be hers in the future. An old custom requires the
+bride to be undressed and put to bed by her mother-in-law. In lack of
+the mother-in-law the right belongs to the oldest sister-in-law. Woe to
+whoever dares to transgress this custom! Grave quarrels would arise, and
+even worse. I have myself been present when a family having wished to do
+as they pleased and not adhere to custom, blows and wounds followed, and
+the bride and groom were obliged to spend the night in jail.</p>
+
+<p>The first visits paid to the newly-married pair are by their mothers,
+who hasten to congratulate them. These are followed later by friends,
+who go to make the <i>bon lirata</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The bride remains at home a week to receive the visits of relatives,
+friends and acquaintances who either did or did not share in the
+wedding-festivities. After this time she leaves the house solemnly for
+the first time to go and hear mass, high mass being ordinarily
+preferred. The white dress which in some localities constitutes the
+wedding-dress, in others is the one worn on the first occasion of
+leaving the house and in returning the visits of the guests.</p>
+
+<p>The last act of this drama or comedy of life is a journey on which the
+husband must take his wife within a year after their marriage. In the
+marriage-contract, written or verbal, there is a clause by which the
+husband assumes the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>obligation of taking his wife within the year to
+such and such a festival of some town more or less remote&mdash;the farther
+away the more important to the contracting parties and their relatives.
+Where no contract is made the custom is enough, the "word"&mdash;which, as
+the proverb says, "is more than the contract"&mdash;is sufficient. In Piana
+dei Greci, an Albanian colony of Sicily, the husband obliges himself to
+take his wife a journey in honor of St. Rosalia on the 4th of September
+to the sanctuary of Monte Pellegrino in Palermo. In many of the villages
+of the <i>Conca d'oro</i> ("the golden shell," the plain of Palermo) the
+husband binds himself to take his wife to the <i>festino</i> of St. Rosalia
+in Palermo, the 13th-15th of July; and this is an obligation that
+involves much expense, because the statue of Charles V. in the Piazza
+Bologni (Palermo) says, according to the people, "Palermu un saccu
+tantu!"<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> The husband of Noto was accustomed, and perhaps still is, to
+take his wife to the festival of St. Venera in Avola.</p>
+
+<p>The wife of Monte Erice (province of Trapani) by a very old custom
+should be taken, the first time she leaves the house, on an excursion
+out of Erice&mdash;the longer the better for the reputation of her husband.
+The one who is worth anything will take her to the sanctuary of St. Vito
+lo Capo or to the festival of the Madonna of Trapani in the middle of
+August: the worthless husband will take her a short distance from Erice,
+as, for example, to the church of the Capuchins or to the neighborhood
+delle Fic&agrave;ri. Here are four proverbs which refer to these
+marriage-journeys: "The beautiful bride the first time goes to the
+Annunciation;" "Who has a fine husband goes the first time to St. Vito;"
+"Who has a mean husband goes the first time to the Capuchins;" "Who has
+a worthless husband goes the first time to the Fic&agrave;ri."</p>
+
+<p>Not every season is propitious for weddings. From ancient times the
+months of May and August have been deemed unlucky, and no one would
+marry during these months, mindful of the proverb, "The bride of May
+will not enjoy her marriage;" and the other, "The bride of August, the
+torrent will carry her away." Instead of these months, February, the
+Carnival, April, June and September are preferred. This last month is
+recommended in another proverb: "In September tender marriages are
+made." Likewise two days of the week are avoided for weddings&mdash;Tuesday,
+and especially Friday&mdash;it being a common saying that on Friday and
+Tuesday one should not marry or set out on a journey. Friday is a fatal
+day, on which one would believe he ran a certain danger not only in
+marrying, but also in beginning any work. On the other hand, Sunday is a
+lucky day, on which marriages always turn out according to the wishes of
+the parties.</p>
+
+<p>These are not all the superstitious beliefs relating to marriage, which
+extend so far as to ordain that if, for example, the bride or one of the
+company slips, or the ring falls in the house, or one of the candles on
+the altar takes fire or goes out, something unlucky is to be expected,
+as these are bad omens; that if two sisters are married the same
+evening, the younger must suffer; finally, that marriages between
+relatives always turn out badly.</p>
+
+<p>In addition, it must not be believed that a marriage can be made, or is
+made, with any one without due regard being had to the relations and
+spirit of the family of the bride or groom. The intimate, unwritten
+history of Sicily and the Sicilians is full of facts that show how
+between natives of this town and that, of this ward and that, and
+between the partisans of different factions, marriages cannot, and ought
+not, and will not, be made. Municipal and country contentions kept many
+parts of Sicily in such enmity that they quarrelled even about the thing
+most sacred to Sicilians&mdash;religion. It was not enough that hatred grew
+up between the natives of two different but neighboring localities: it
+was often born and perpetuated "between those whom one wall and one
+fosse shut in," and assumed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> considerable proportions. Thus we see as
+far back as the fifteenth century the inhabitants of a certain "fifth"
+(Palermo was divided into five wards) so hostile to those of another
+ward that the intervention of the senate was necessary in order to
+obtain from King Alfonso (in 1448) supplementary laws to obviate the
+evil.<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> In like manner the members of different confraternities are
+often unfriendly. In Modica it is a rare thing for a man devoted to St.
+George to marry a woman devoted to St. Peter. An excellent young lady of
+Syracuse, devoted to St. Philip and engaged to a distinguished young man
+of the same city who was a member of the confraternity of the Holy
+Ghost, a few days before the wedding broke her engagement because on
+visiting her betrothed, who was ill, she found hanging above his head a
+picture of the Holy Ghost, which she tore down and broke to pieces in
+anger and scorn.</p>
+
+<p>Men engaged on the sea do not marry into families employed on the land.
+The sailors consider themselves, and are, better and milder than other
+classes, as is shown by the criminal cases<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> and the words and phrases
+which they use (especially those of the <i>Kalsa</i> of Palermo). Then there
+are the social differences, which are an obstacle to many marriages. We
+do not speak of the large cities, where certain prejudices are more or
+less overlooked; but in the smaller and less populous towns there are
+distinctions and sub-distinctions, so that he is fortunate who does not
+lose himself in that labyrinth. The gentleman (<i>galantuomo</i>, who is also
+called <i>cappeddu</i> or <i>cavaleri</i>) forms the highest caste, and is above
+the master (<i>maestro</i>), who in turn must not be confounded with the
+countryman (<i>villano</i>), the lowest grade in the social scale. Among the
+countrymen of Modica a shepherd who lives on his own property is above a
+reduced <i>massarotto</i> (who is a countryman proprietor of lands), and yet
+the <i>massarotto</i> would refuse him for a son-in-law: the mechanic would
+not be accepted by a family of drivers, nor these by another the head of
+which is the keeper of swine or of cattle. The husbandman who can prune
+the vines is above the one who can only till the ground; the cowherd
+looks down on the one who guards the oxen; the last named scorns the
+keeper of calves; the one who keeps sheep deems himself noble in
+comparison with the one who guards goats; and so with other most minute
+distinctions. When a countryman woos a young girl of a different rank,
+he hopes to overcome the difficulties in his way by choosing a
+matchmaker from among the foremost men of his native place, but the
+matchmaker will inevitably receive the answer, "The young man is honest,
+laborious, he owns a vineyard and land, he possesses all the qualities,
+but&mdash;he is not of my rank."</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Giuseppe Pitr&egrave;.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><a name="AUNT_EDITHS_FOREIGN_LOVER" id="AUNT_EDITHS_FOREIGN_LOVER"></a>AUNT EDITH'S FOREIGN LOVER.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>"There is a destiny which shapes our end;" and I am a firm believer in
+it, for how else can I explain my adventures and their results while
+travelling in Austria in the year of the Welt-Ausstellung at Vienna?</p>
+
+<p>As is usual with a novice in European travel, I received during the week
+prior to sailing the ordinary amount of advice as to what I <i>should</i> and
+should <i>not</i> do. Meantime, my aunt Edith, who had spent a year in Europe
+ten or twelve years before, rather surprised me by her reticence in
+regard to my proposed voyage. However, the night before I was to sail I
+suggested to her that she might be able to give me some valuable advice,
+as she had probably not "forgotten how one should behave in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgotten!" she exclaimed with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> start, and then, raven-like, "nothing
+more." I played with the tassel of the window-curtain and wondered how I
+should ever get on without this aunt, the dearest, bravest and
+handsomest woman in all the world&mdash;to me. She was thirty-six years old,
+just ten years older than myself, for by a happy coincidence our
+birthdays fell in the same month, and upon the same day of the month,
+the twenty-fifth of August.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Edith was a great comfort to the maiden sisterhood. Spinsters
+referred to Edith Mack with a sense of triumph whenever any
+disrespectful allusions were cast upon "old maids." She was always
+bright, charming and witty, and people wondered, like so many idiots,
+why she had never married, instead of wondering why most other women
+did. When questioned about it, which was rarely, she usually replied
+that she never "had the time," or that she had been "warned in dreams,"
+or that she awaited her "king from over the seas"&mdash;some such <i>b&ecirc;tise</i>.
+But to me the fact that she had never married was never a matter for
+wonder: she had never loved, I supposed, which was reason enough. She
+had her work in life&mdash;had written two very delightful books, made
+occasional illustrations for publishers, and played German music <i>&agrave;
+ravir</i>. At length she spoke, this Aunt Edith.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear niece, I <i>have</i> some advice to give you," she said in a
+low voice: "don't fall in love with a European."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think there is any danger?" I asked with mock seriousness.</p>
+
+<p>"Not with a Frenchman or German," she quickly replied. "But let me tell
+you <i>my</i> experience. I was not far from your age when I went to Europe
+with Cousin Helen. I had just refused an offer of marriage from a very
+noble fellow because I could not love him. He lacked the power to
+control me: I felt myself the stronger of the two. Not that women like
+to be ruled, but that they like that power in men which can rule if need
+be, generously, but never despotically. I had only in my imagination a
+conception of that love 'which passeth understanding'&mdash;which lifts a
+woman out of herself into a willing sacrifice that looks to calmer eyes
+as the height of folly. I liked men well, but none had ever stirred more
+than the even surface of my feelings, and I so firmly believed that no
+one ever could as to regard my 'falling in love' as most improbable. I
+really desired the experience, feeling that something is lost out of
+life if every phase of human feeling and emotion be not awakened. But I
+went to Europe, and walked straight into my fate.</p>
+
+<p>"The day after my arrival in Paris, in passing through the court of the
+hotel where I was stopping, I encountered a gentleman who lifted his
+hat, and who looked at me in a manner that caused me to observe his
+eyes, which were large, black and exceptionally splendid. In figure he
+was tall and firmly built, an aquiline nose and clearly-cut chin giving
+a high-bred look to his face, and he wore some sort of a decoration
+which caught Helen's notice. At the table-d'h&ocirc;te that evening I found
+myself seated next to him. Our table-talk, begun early in the meal, was
+the beginning of an acquaintance that developed into that strongest of
+affections which makes slaves of us all. I never forgot my proud
+birthright, and well understood the danger of a European alliance&mdash;or
+misalliance. The gentleman was quite Oriental, belonging to that country
+which has Bucharest for its capital. His family was of high distinction,
+connected with that of the reigning prince. He possessed a modest
+fortune, had been educated in Athens and Paris, and spoke four or five
+languages. He was ardent, jealous, passionate, but possessed a heart at
+once so loving, so full of every tender and winning quality, that it was
+easy to forgive outbursts of feeling and similar offences. He had spent
+some time in England, without, however, learning to speak much of the
+language. The history of his past life, as he related it to us, was
+quite in keeping with his character as a man. He had been affianced when
+quite young to a beautiful girl, quarrelled with her, broke off the
+engagement, then joined the Greek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> army, fought against the Turks, and
+was four times wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"It was early in June when we arrived in Paris, and at the occurrence of
+my birthday in August we had become very well acquainted, as also with a
+number of his friends to whom he had introduced us. Wishing to observe
+my <i>f&ecirc;te</i>, he sent me a tiny bouquet&mdash;a rose and some sprays of fragrant
+flowers. In the evening he begged for some souvenir of the day, when I
+declared I had nothing to give.</p>
+
+<p>"'Then I shall <i>take</i> something,' he replied, and clipped from a curl a
+ring of my hair, which he placed in a locket attached to his watchguard,
+in the back of which he previously made a note of the day.</p>
+
+<p>"'That will remain there for ever,' he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"'Which means six months, at the end of which time you will have
+forgotten me,' I replied.</p>
+
+<p>"'Not at the end of six months, six years, nor six ages,' he warmly
+retorted.</p>
+
+<p>"As the autumn months wore away, and he began to talk to me of marriage,
+the seriousness of his love frightened me, and it was not until I was
+assured by what seemed unmistakable proofs that all his statements in
+regard to himself were true that I in any sense considered the question
+of marriage with him. To be obliged always to talk French or Italian was
+not to my liking, and to marry anybody but a compatriot seemed very
+unpatriotic. But I loved him, and that was the solution of the whole
+matter. His kindness to us was without limit, and tendered in the most
+graceful and grateful manner. He knew some excellent English families
+who were living in Paris, whose acquaintance we afterward made, and who
+spoke of him in the highest terms of esteem.</p>
+
+<p>"As the winter set in, Helen and I arranged to go to Italy. My friend
+was to take advantage of our departure to go to his 'provincial estates'
+on business, and afterward to join us in Italy. He gave us a letter to
+the Greek consul at Rome, a friend of his, to whose care he would
+confide his letters, and who, he thought, might be of real service to
+us notwithstanding our own ambassadorial corps there.</p>
+
+<p>"My separation from him proved to me in a thousandfold manner how deep
+and strong was the bond that bound me to him. We had scarcely more than
+become well settled in Rome than a letter arrived which he had mailed at
+Vienna, and which the polite consul came and delivered in person. And
+what a letter it was!&mdash;only a page or two, but words alive with the love
+and passion of his heart. And that was the last letter, as it was the
+first, that I ever received from him. The cause of his silence none of
+us could tell. He knew that a letter sent to me in care of any one of
+the American consuls in Paris or in Italy would reach me. As the mystery
+of his silence deepened the attentions of the consul became more
+assiduous. For some reason I did not like the man, although he was very
+kind and gentlemanly. Once he lightly remarked that doubtless 'our
+friend had been <i>&eacute;pris</i> by some fair Austrian blond;' and the suggestion
+filled me with shame. Who knew but it might be true&mdash;that the man fell
+in love with every pretty new face&mdash;for mine was called beautiful
+then&mdash;and that after an entertaining season of flirtation he had bid me
+adieu? Of course I blamed myself for having been so confiding as to be
+deceived by a handsome adventurer without principle or honor. I cannot
+tell you what agony I suffered. I begged Helen to go on to Naples, for
+Rome had become very hateful to me. But at Rome, as you know, Helen fell
+ill with Roman fever, and died, and I returned to Rome to bury her body
+there in the Protestant cemetery. Four months had gone by, and not a
+word from my friend. Alone as I was, my troubles drove me nearly
+frantic. I returned to Paris. That I was so sad and changed seemed
+naturally due to Helen's death: nobody suspected that I was the victim
+of a keener sorrow. None of his friends had received news of him. I was
+too proud to show that my interest in him had been of more than ordinary
+meaning. Nobody knew of my love for him but Helen, and the secret was
+buried in her grave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I tarried a month or two in Paris, hoping against hope for news of him,
+without even the consolation of addressing him letters, as I did not
+know where one would reach him. To know he was dead would have been a
+relief: to think he had abandoned me, that he had been false, was
+insupportable. It was the most probable solution of the mystery, but I
+have never believed it, and I love him as deeply to-day as ever. I have
+schooled myself to cheerfulness and gayety, but having known him spoiled
+me for loving again. Here is his portrait," drawing a case from a
+drawer: "I wish you to see how handsome and good and noble a man may
+look to be, and yet&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused, and I added, "Be a villain."</p>
+
+<p>"So you see," she smiled, "how apropos my advice to you is: have nothing
+to do with foreigners."</p>
+
+<p>I returned her the portrait without comment, kissed her good-night, and
+next day sailed out to sea, with Aunt Edith waving her handkerchief
+after me like a flag of warning. We lived in the country, six hours'
+ride from New York, and my oldest brother and Aunt Edith had followed me
+to the "water's edge," as she playfully expressed it. At London I was to
+join Cecilia Dayton, a handsome widow of forty-five, an old friend of
+ours, who was to act the part of "chaperone." We called her "St.
+Cecilia," although she was anything but saintly.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the following winter we left Paris and went to Nice, where "the
+romance of a serviette" began; and I trust the reader will not question
+my truthfulness when I observe that what I am writing is, without
+exaggeration, strictly true.</p>
+
+<p>St. Cecilia, from nervousness brought on by drinking strong tea (as I
+firmly believe), kept a small night-lamp burning in her room at night,
+so she should not be afraid to sleep. For this purpose she used tiny
+tapers, which float on the top of oil poured in a tumbler half full of
+water. We breakfasted in our own rooms, and the breakfast napkins of the
+Grand H&ocirc;tel, where we were stopping, were decidedly shabby and only
+about six inches square. On the morning of our leavetaking of Nice, St.
+Cecilia wanted a "rag" to tie over her bottle of oil, which she carried
+with her for her night-tapers, and cast her eyes about for one: she
+seized upon the raggedest of the serviettes.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't consider this <i>stealing</i>, ma ch&egrave;re," she murmured in apology.
+"My bill is enormous! I feel that I've paid for this rag twice over."</p>
+
+<p>So the serviette went with us by sea to Naples. There we were obliged
+for a time to occupy the same apartment, and the napkin taken off the
+bottle was lying about the room, for it was warm and there was no fire
+to throw it in. Tucking it away with soiled linen, it came back from the
+laundry clean and white, save one round oil-spot on it, and was thrown
+into my trunk along with the refreshed linen; and there it remained
+untouched until four months later, when I arrived at Vienna.</p>
+
+<p>At Venice, Cecilia was obliged to return to Paris: she was to rejoin me
+a fortnight later at Vienna. Meantime, a young Englishwoman, Kate
+Barton, whose acquaintance we had made at Rome, was going to Vienna to
+join a party of cousins; and as we were both alone, we arranged to make
+the journey together. Kate was one of the merriest of English girls (a
+native, however, of Cape Town), a tall, rosy-cheeked blond, with a half
+dozen brothers distributed in the British army and provincial
+parliaments.</p>
+
+<p>We left Venice at midnight in an Adriatic steamer, and arrived next
+morning at Trieste, a town which during our forced stay in it of
+forty-eight hours filled my mind with nothing but most disagreeable
+souvenirs. Life there was in complete contrast to the quiet, poetic,
+graceful existence at Venice, and the change from the one to the other
+had been so sudden as to act like a stunning blow. A detention caused by
+illness and the loss of a train through the purposed maliciousness of a
+hotel-waiter led to two results. One was our sending a telegram to the
+proprietor of the W&mdash;&mdash;H&ocirc;tel in Vienna to inform him of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> delay, as
+rooms had been engaged for us by a gentleman who was in the habit of
+lodging in that hotel when in Vienna, and who before leaving the city
+had shown the kind thoughtfulness of sending us a letter of introduction
+to the proprietor commending us to his courtesy. The other result was to
+bring about an acquaintance with a Prussian, Herr Schwager, which
+happened in this wise: Kate, whose wrath was fully aroused at the
+troubles we encountered in Trieste, was extravagant in her denunciations
+of those "horrid Germans" after we were once fairly seated in the cars
+bound for Gratz. Neither of us spoke German with any degree of ease or
+much intelligibility, and consequently gave vent to our opinions in
+plain English. A young man of a studious, gentlemanly appearance, but of
+unmistakable Teutonic descent, sat in one corner of the compartment, and
+from his frequent smiling at our talk I concluded that he understood
+English, and made bold to ask him if he did.</p>
+
+<p>"Happily, I do," he replied, his handsome brown eyes twinkling with
+increased merriment, "and I am one of those 'horrid Germans.'"</p>
+
+<p>His reply greatly amused Miss Barton, and opened the way to a very
+animated conversation, in which we learned that he had just come from
+Italy, had been on the same steamer as ourselves coming from Venice, and
+had stopped in the same hotel and suffered the same agonies. Then we
+talked of what we liked best in Italy, and he spoke of an American
+friend, Mr. Fanton, with whom he had greatly enjoyed Rome. The fact that
+he was a friend of John Fanton, whom I had known for years, and who was
+the last to bid me good-bye in Rome, was recommendation enough for any
+stranger, and constituted us friends at once. I forgot all about Aunt
+Edith's advice to have "nothing to do with foreigners," but placed at
+once the most unlimited confidence in Herr Schwager, who from the
+beginning of our acquaintance attached himself in a most brotherly way
+to our fortunes, proving himself in every particular a rare honor to his
+sex. However gross and brusque the German character may be, I must for
+ever make an exception of our Herr, whose genuine politeness, delicacy
+of kindness, refinement and manliness I have rarely seen equalled and
+never excelled.</p>
+
+<p>Kate kept up her banter about the "horrid Germans," for which she had
+abundant reason in our journey from Gratz to Vienna. We had hoped to
+have a compartment to ourselves, to which end Herr Schwager had expended
+a florin; but at the last moment a portly Gratzian entered and settled
+himself by one of the windows which would command the Semmering Pass. He
+too spoke some English, and endeavored to be sociable. As we neared the
+pass he insisted upon my taking his seat the better to see the
+marvellous scenery, with which he was already familiar. I had been too
+long on the Continent not to have become suspicious of a voluntary
+sacrifice on the part of a European. It invariably means something: it
+covers an <i>arri&egrave;re pens&eacute;e</i>. He offers you a paper to read or a peach or
+a pear to eat, or buys a bouquet of flowers at a station, and if you
+accept the proffer of either he takes advantage of the obligation under
+which he has placed you and proceeds generally to smoke, remarking for
+form's sake that he "hopes it is not offensive," while you, under the
+burden of his kindness, smile a fashionable lie, and reply, "Not in the
+least." So our Gratzer withdrew to the farther end of the seat and began
+to smoke a most villainous cigar, and continued to smoke, lighting
+another when one was finished. I soon began to succumb to the poisonous
+effects of the close atmosphere, for, although we kept our windows
+open&mdash;it was the middle of June&mdash;the Gratzer with true German caution
+kept his firmly closed. But the effect upon Kate was even worse, and her
+pallid face plainly told how much she was suffering. We cast entreating
+looks upon Herr Schwager, who never smoked, but understood our annoyance
+without knowing just how to ask the Gratzer to cease. We poked our heads
+out of the window, opened cologne-bottles and indulged in various
+manifestations of disgust; but to no purpose: the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> Austrian smoked on.
+Finally, when he began on the fourth cigar, Kate, whose patience was
+utterly exhausted, begged me to ask him to stop. I naturally demurred,
+being under obligation to him, and replied, "You're the sicker, Kate:
+<i>you</i> tell him."</p>
+
+<p>When suddenly she lifted her pale face and shouted at him, "Oh, you
+<i>horrid</i> German! we are nearly smoked to death! For mercy's sake, stop!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, pardon!" he replied unconcernedly, taking the cigar from his mouth
+and putting it in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Herr Schwager's amusement was boundless, and our satisfaction also, as
+we had no more smoke on the road to Vienna.</p>
+
+<p>The landlord of the H&ocirc;tel W&mdash;&mdash;, to whom we were recommended, received
+us with a pleasant cordiality, and at the same time apologized because
+he could not give us the rooms engaged for us until the next day; so we
+were temporarily lodged in a large room leading from an anteroom
+designed for a servant&mdash;an arrangement which is common in Austrian
+hotels. On the following morning, as Kate was waiting half dressed in
+the anteroom for the kammer-m&auml;dchen to bring her warm water, who should
+walk in upon her, <i>sans c&eacute;r&eacute;monie</i>, but a long, black-gowned priest! He
+stared at her, nonchalantly looked about the room, and walked out with
+never a word. She might have regarded the intrusion as a mistake if a
+like visit from the same personage had not been made at the same hour
+next morning in our own rooms, to which we were that day transferred.
+The two successive intrusions were to us inexplicable, unless, in the
+light of succeeding events, we were to regard the priest as a detective
+officer or spy. Our apartments communicated, both being reached through
+an entry, while my room, lying beyond Kate's, was only reached by
+passing also from the entry through hers.</p>
+
+<p>On the fourth day of our sojourn in the hotel, about nine o'clock in the
+morning, Kate tapped on the door leading into my room, and at my cry of
+"Entrez," came in. She was in a dressing-gown, her long, curling brown
+hair hanging over her shoulders and a very unusual expression on her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"More priests?" I asked in explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Police!</i>" she exclaimed. "If we ever get out of this town alive I
+shall be thankful! I had rung as usual for water, and just as I had
+finished my bath I heard a knock at the outside door, and asking 'Wer
+ist da?' the chambermaid replied that <i>she</i> was. I then opened the door
+a bit, and saw looking over her shoulders two strange men. My first
+thought was that they were friends of yours wishing to give you a
+surprise, and I cried out, 'Oh, you can't come in, for we are not
+dressed.' Then one of the men said in broken English, 'We shall and we
+<i>will</i> come in;' and they forced the door in upon me, while I hastened
+to close and fasten the other, but was too late, for they followed at my
+heels. 'You are Miss W&mdash;&mdash;?' the one who had already spoken said.&mdash;'No,
+I am not.'&mdash;'Then she is in the next room?'&mdash;'But you cannot go in, for
+she isn't dressed,' I said.&mdash;'You are her sister, and you come from the
+Grand H&ocirc;tel,' he continued; and you've no idea with what a ferocious
+face. It was dreadful! Then he said something about the <i>police</i>&mdash;that
+we must go to the <i>police-court</i>; and finally said he would give you
+five minutes to dress in. Now, there they are, banging at the door. Oh,
+what have we done? Why <i>did</i> we ever come into this barbarous land?" and
+poor merry Kate was on the brink of hysterics.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, 'tis all a mistake," I replied, adjusting my necktie. "I will see
+the men, and the matter will be explained at once."</p>
+
+<p>The noise from the street coming in from my open windows had prevented
+me from hearing the conversation in Kate's room, and I should have been
+inclined to regard her startling narrative as one of her jokes if it had
+not been for the loud banging on the door. I hastened to open it: the
+men came in, and, wishing to relieve Kate of their presence, I asked
+them to pass into my room. This they refused to do, taking a decided
+stand in Kate's. I was too curious to lose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> my presence of mind or show
+that I was annoyed, and with my blandest smile inquired why I was
+honored with so matinal a visit from two strangers, when the following
+dialogue ensued:</p>
+
+<p>"We come from the police. You are Miss W&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Englishwoman?"</p>
+
+<p>"By no means."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes you are; and this woman is your sister."</p>
+
+<p>"No, she is not my sister."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she is. You're English. No? What are you, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm American."</p>
+
+<p>"Show your passport."</p>
+
+<p>"Here it is;" and I opened the document bearing the American eagle and
+the signature of Hamilton Fish.</p>
+
+<p>The two men put their heads together, neither being able to tell what
+sort of a paper it was, which secretly amused me. The men were in
+civilian's dress. Turning to Kate, her passport was demanded. She had
+none.</p>
+
+<p>"And of what nation are you?" asked the spokesman.</p>
+
+<p>She refused to tell.</p>
+
+<p>"And what is your name?"</p>
+
+<p>She refused to answer that. The poor girl had become so nervous under
+the ordeal, which for her had been of a very violent character, that she
+imagined nothing could be more disgraceful and humiliating than to have
+her name mixed up with a police-affair.</p>
+
+<p>Finding that she was inexorable, they returned to me with, "Well, miss,
+you must go with us to the police," and showed me a paper of arrest.</p>
+
+<p>"And why must I go to the police?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you have been at the Grand H&ocirc;tel."</p>
+
+<p>"What Grand H&ocirc;tel?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Grand H&ocirc;tel. You must go to the police."</p>
+
+<p>I rang the bell, and asked that the proprietor of the house come at once
+to my room. He came, and I demanded an explanation of the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>"You must know, mademoiselle," he began, "that in Vienna we are all in
+the power of the police: they must have the name, nationality, business
+and address of every person who comes into the city. The morning after
+your arrival these men came and asked if two English ladies were
+stopping here. I said 'Yes.' They then said they believed you were
+persons they had been trying for two weeks to catch, and that you were
+very suspicious characters who had been stopping here in the Grand
+H&ocirc;tel. I told them it was not possible&mdash;that you had come direct from
+Italy; and I mentioned the telegram you had sent from Trieste, and that
+you had been recommended to my courtesy by a gentleman whom I well knew
+and who had many times lodged here. But they went away, and came back
+again next day, making some inquiries about you, and asking if numbers
+so and so were those of your rooms. You were out, and whether they
+visited your rooms or not I cannot say. This is all that I know. Now
+they are here again, and if they say you must go to the police-court,
+there will be no other way but to go."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't understand. I have my passport: there is my bill, receipted
+at the hotel in Trieste six days ago. I never knew before it was a crime
+for two English-speaking women to travel alone or to stop at a Grand
+H&ocirc;tel. Of what are we suspected? and upon what grounds suspected?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, a napkin has been seen among your effects with the mark of the
+Grand H&ocirc;tel upon it."</p>
+
+<p>After a moment's thought it flashed into my mind that it was that Nice
+serviette, and, more amused than annoyed, I exclaimed, "Oh, I have it.
+'Tis that serviette St. Cecilia took at Nice;" and opening my trunk soon
+had it in my hands, holding it up by two corners for the men to see and
+explaining how it came into my possession.</p>
+
+<p>"It will go very hard with Madame Cecilia," observed the spokesman: "you
+will please give us her address."</p>
+
+<p>My indiscretion at once became apparent, but I was a complete novice in
+"being arrested." To involve Cecilia in the affair would be but an
+aggravation of matters, and I at once decided,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> come what might, I would
+not give the police her address. Looking at the half-obliterated stamp
+in the corner of the napkin, there was unmistakably the mark "Grand
+H&ocirc;tel," but directly underneath "Nice," which the police, in their ardor
+to find me guilty of something which I could not find out, had
+undoubtedly mistaken for Wien, the German name for Vienna. I called
+their attention to the "Nice," asking what jurisdiction the Austrian
+government had over matters relating to hotels in Italy. They replied by
+looking very closely at the stamp, and then one of them took my passport
+and the napkin and went out, leaving the other man to guard our
+apartment, and soon returned with a new arrest for myself and my
+<i>gesellschafterin</i>, Miss Barton still refusing to give her name. The
+landlord had only placed mine in the visitors' book, thereby making
+himself liable to a fine of eight or ten dollars.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could have been more widely different than the effect produced
+upon Kate and myself. To me the whole affair was inexpressibly
+mysterious and ludicrous, notwithstanding the insolence of the police,
+and, as it seemed to me, their amazing stupidity. Poor Kate was the
+wrathfullest woman I ever saw, while her obstinate refusal to answer any
+questions about herself only increased the ferocity of the men, whose
+treatment of her was shameful in the extreme. They threatened to search
+our trunks, which aroused Kate's wrath the more. I observed that as they
+had assumed the right to unlock and search mine during my absence, they
+were probably already acquainted with its contents. They, however,
+abandoned the searching scheme, and ordered us to get ready to go to the
+police-court, which was about two minutes' walk distant. Kate declared
+that to the police-court she would not go, unless she were dragged there
+by her hair, while the men declared that she would then be taken by
+<i>armed force</i>. I concluded to telegraph to the American embassy for
+help, but that was denied me. Herr Schwager had called to see us only
+the day previous, saying his lodgings were quite in our neighborhood,
+but we had not asked his address. There seemed nothing to do but to go
+to the court and be my own lawyer. It never occurred to me that the
+landlord to whose courtesy I had been recommended would refuse to go
+with me; but when I asked him for his protection he begged to be
+excused, on the ground of being <i>very</i> busy and that he could be of no
+service to me. I do not wish any reader to infer from this that he was
+an exceptional Viennese hotel-keeper&mdash;that is, exceptionally
+ungentlemanly: he was, on the contrary, a fair representative both of
+his trade and his countrymen. Austrian military officers and diplomatic
+attach&eacute;s of the government have won in fashionable society a reputation
+for extreme politeness and gallantry toward women; which may be true, as
+neither under such conditions costs any earnest sacrifice. But the rank
+and file of the middle class of Austrians, the class with which
+travellers have naturally most to do, are most brusque and ungracious in
+manner as well as in deed, unembellished with any hint of courtesy.</p>
+
+<p>I enjoyed a fling at the landlord by expressing surprise at his refusal
+to accompany me to the police-court, adding maliciously that American
+gentlemen were not famous for polished manners, but there was not one
+mean enough in the whole country to refuse his protection to a lady, a
+guest under his own roof and in a strange land, where the help of
+friends was denied her. I then appealed to Kate to go with me, as it
+would only end the trouble sooner, and that I would never allow her to
+go to such a place alone, but with tears streaming from her eyes she
+resisted my entreaties, and I followed one of the men to the court: the
+other remained behind to watch Kate.</p>
+
+<p>I had no more idea of a police-court than I had of the reason why I was
+being taken there. It was mystery and curiosity that sustained me. I
+undoubtedly looked like an amused interrogation-mark, for the moment I
+was introduced into the presence of the grand interrogator of that
+inquisition, upon whose desk lay my passport and "that serviette," he
+smiled and remarked in French, "It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> is very evident, mademoiselle, that
+you have nothing to do with this affair."</p>
+
+<p>"With what affair, monsieur? I haven't the faintest idea what I was
+brought here for," I responded.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, just this: about a fortnight ago two Englishwomen stopped at the
+Grand H&ocirc;tel in this city, and left without paying their bills, carrying
+off with them all the household linen they could lay their hands on."</p>
+
+<p>And so we had been arrested as house-linen thieves! It was too
+humiliating. I was then interviewed as to my companion's refusal to give
+her name, etc., which argued very much against her. I explained as well
+as I could the extreme annoyance and brutal treatment to which she had
+been subjected, her horror of having anything to do with a police-court,
+and how the disgrace of being suspected of a crime was aggravated by
+intense nervous excitement brought on by the insolence of the police.
+After considerable pleading on my part in her behalf&mdash;for I felt that I
+was the sole cause of the trouble&mdash;it was agreed upon that she should be
+relieved from coming to the court upon condition that she would sign a
+paper giving her name, nationality, etc., and I was dismissed without
+the slightest apology for the trouble to which I had been subjected. At
+that point the affair ceased to be funny, and, turning back after I had
+reached the door of exit, I made a short and as effective a speech as
+the polite language of the French would allow, in which I conveyed a
+frank idea of my opinion of Austrian courtesy. I succeeded well enough
+to convince my examiner of something&mdash;probably that he had caught a
+Tartar&mdash;and I left him tugging furiously at his moustache. My official
+escort led the way back to the hotel with a very crestfallen air, savage
+and sullen.</p>
+
+<p>I found Miss Barton in a worse condition than ever, the persecutions of
+the guarding policeman having continued with increased ferocity. He had
+dogged every movement she made, until the poor girl had nearly gone mad;
+and it was only after long persuasion that I induced her to sign the
+paper, such a one as most travellers without passports in Austria are
+obliged to fill out. She finally wrote her name in a great scrawl which
+nobody could decipher, and gave as her country "Cape Town, Africa;"
+which again confounded the men, as they had no idea how a "Hottentot"
+could be an English subject. But they swallowed their ignorance, and
+finally went away.</p>
+
+<p>When Kate had become restored to her normal condition she heaped upon
+herself all sorts of self-reproaches, and paid me extravagant
+compliments for what she called "good sense" and "presence of mind." As
+she demanded redress for the insults she had suffered, and as I wished
+to know by what right an Austrian policeman privily searched the trunks
+of American women who had the misfortune to come into the Austrian
+dominions, we posted off to our respective national ambassadors. Kate
+had the satisfaction of being told that she ought to congratulate
+herself upon getting off as well as she did, since two of her
+countrywomen had been arrested, put in jail and kept there for two weeks
+upon even less grounds for suspicion. The result of our complaints was,
+that the amplest official apologies were made by the Foreign Office, the
+two policemen severely censured and degraded from rank, while, through
+the influence of Herr Schwager, who went to the president of the police,
+an officer was sent from that organization to apologize to us in person.
+But what I cared most for I never got&mdash;an acknowledgment of the right of
+the police to search baggage <i>&agrave; plaisir</i>.</p>
+
+<p>As might have been expected, our liking for Vienna had been thoroughly
+damped. From that moment Kate never saw an officer without fear and
+trembling, and officers were everywhere. "To think," she exclaimed,
+"that I have grown to be such a ninny! My brothers always said, 'Oh, we
+can trust Kate to go anywhere: she never gets nervous or afraid;' and
+here I am actually afraid to cross a street! I shall never have a
+moment's peace until I get out of this horrid country."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>At the end of a fortnight, having entirely missed her cousins, she
+joined a party of Americans going to England. St. Cecilia meantime had
+arrived, and was of course entertained by the napkin adventure. But she
+could not abide Vienna, and quickly returned to Paris. As I wished to
+"do" the Exposition and run no more risks of arrest, I decided to
+withdraw to Baden, a half hour's ride by express from the S&uuml;dbahn
+station of the Austrian capital, as the town was strongly recommended by
+Herr Schwager and several American friends residing in Vienna. Herr
+Schwager declared that with my small stock of <i>Deutsch sprechen</i> the
+Badenites would cheat me out of my eyes, and very kindly volunteered to
+help me get installed. A history of the trials attending that
+transaction would alone "fill a volume," but I mention only one, and
+that simply because it seemed another link in the manifest chain of
+destiny.</p>
+
+<p>An hour after our arrangement for my accommodation for the season had
+been settled "meine Wirthin" received a letter from her son-in-law that
+he was coming, and she informed me that she would need her guest-chamber
+for him, returning to me my advanced guldens at the same time she broke
+her bargain. Nothing was to be done but to look elsewhere, and
+eventually lodgings were obtained in the Bergstrasse, in quite another
+part of the town. The locality was excellent, being very near the
+promenade and music-gardens: then I liked the face of the
+<i>Haus-meisterin,</i> as did Herr Schwager, who wisely remarked that he
+thought kindness of heart should rank high in that "benighted land."</p>
+
+<p>I frequently went to Vienna, spending the day at the Exposition and
+returning to Baden in the evening. Upon one of these occasions I found
+upon my return to the S&uuml;dbahn that I had a half hour to wait for the
+train. As I was hungry, I ordered a cup of coffee in the caf&eacute;
+waiting-room. Upon putting my hand in my pocket for my portemonnaie, lo!
+I had none, not a kreutzer to my name, and my portemonnaie contained
+also my return railway-ticket! I was alone: it was seven o'clock in the
+evening. My situation was dramatic, even comic, and I laughed to myself
+and smiled upon a gentleman and two ladies who sat at the same table,
+calmly remarking that I had been robbed of my <i>Gelttasche</i>: they smiled
+in return, and nothing more. I sent a <i>kellner</i> to bring me the master
+of the caf&eacute;, whom I informed of my loss and my inability to pay my debt
+to him. He at once led me off to a <i>commissaire de police</i>&mdash;of whom
+there are always plenty about in civilian's dress&mdash;to whom I made a
+statement of my loss, describing my lost treasure and where I thought it
+had in all probability been taken. While we were talking a very
+distinguished-looking man, perhaps forty-five years of age, with
+magnificent black eyes, passed near, evidently interested. When through
+with the police I remarked that I did not know how I was to get back to
+Baden; whereupon the master of the caf&eacute;&mdash;who, by the way, spoke English
+well&mdash;exclaimed, "Oh, as to that, I will lend you what you need."
+Hearing this, the distinguished-looking stranger came up with a salaam,
+and, begging the conventional number of <i>pardons</i>, graciously
+volunteered any service he might be able to render me. I thanked him,
+explaining to him in a few words my misfortune, but that the master of
+the caf&eacute;&mdash;who had meantime purchased a railway-ticket for me&mdash;had
+gallantly come to my rescue. At this moment the car-bell rang: I gave my
+card to the <i>Meister</i>, took down his name, and hurried away to get a
+seat in the train, the owner of the black eyes following me, helping me
+as best he could, and, "if madame had no objections, would take a seat
+near her, as he too was <i>en route</i> for Baden." He spoke in French, with
+a pure French accent, although it was evident he was not a Frenchman. He
+evinced a desire to continue an acquaintance so oddly begun, but I was
+obliged to doom him to disappointment. My mind was occupied with the
+grave question of finance, and about how long I should be obliged to
+remain in Baden before I should receive a remittance from London. I
+remembered having seen the gentleman once or twice in the park at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>
+Baden, and thought him, with his splendid eyes, graying hair and
+military bearing, a man of no ordinary appearance. He had the air of a
+person looking for some one, and the expression was sad. Under ordinary
+circumstances I should have been curious to learn more of him. My
+coolness of manner, accompanied by the almost rude brevity of my replies
+to his few ventured remarks, seemed to amuse him, for he smilingly
+observed that I was a true "Anglaise."</p>
+
+<p>To be taken for English always aroused my honest indignation, and I
+quickly retorted, "Pardon, mais je ne suis pas Anglaise."</p>
+
+<p>"Vraiment! but you speak with the English accent."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite possible, monsieur, as English is my mother tongue, but I am a
+<i>vrai Am&eacute;ricaine."</i></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Am&eacute;ricaine! Am&eacute;ricaine!</i>" he repeated eagerly. "I once knew an
+American lady, and I should prize above all things some knowledge of
+her. I hope I may have the honor&mdash;" A blast from the engine broke upon
+his speech at that juncture: we were at Baden.</p>
+
+<p>Hastily thanking him&mdash;for abroad one falls into the continental habit of
+thanking people "mille fois" for what they do not do, as for what they
+do do&mdash;and saying "Bon jour," I hurried off to the Bergstrasse. The next
+morning I refunded my borrowed guldens to the master of the caf&eacute; by post
+(as I had not placed my entire bank in my purse), and feeling
+conscience-smitten at having, in my direst extremity, been befriended by
+one of those "dreadful Austrians" whom I had so bitterly berated, I
+hinted my amazement, along with my thanks, at having been the recipient
+of so graceful and needed a courtesy from a Viennese. He acknowledged
+the receipt of the money, adding, "I hope you do not take me for a
+Viennese: I am a Bavarian, and have lived twelve years in England."</p>
+
+<p>Among the occupants of the house and dwellers in the garden where I
+lodged and lived was a young Austrian woman, two years married, with
+whom I formed a pleasant acquaintance, and whose chatty ways rapidly
+revived my knowledge of the German, in which language only she could
+express herself. I shall not soon forget her, for she told me that she
+married to please the "Eltern"&mdash;that she "had never loved," and was so
+na&iuml;ve in her mode of reasoning as to prove a source of infinite
+surprise. She had no conception of any destiny for a girl but that of
+marriage, and never tired of asking about "American girls," whom I
+described as oftentimes living and dying unmarried.</p>
+
+<p>"And do not the parents force them to marry? And what do they do if not
+marry? And when they get old, what becomes of them? And they are
+<i>doctors</i> even? Did you ever see a woman-doctor?" etc., etc., and
+hundreds of similar questions.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, two or three days after the "robbery," we went to sit in
+the park and listen to the music. On the end of a bench where we sat
+down was a poorly-clad, miserable-looking woman, who occupied herself in
+dozing and waking. I had no money in my pocket, but I could not rid
+myself of the idea that the poor wretch was dying of hunger, and her
+sharp contrast to the hundreds of elegantly-dressed people all about her
+and constantly moving to and fro only gave more force to her isolation
+and misery. At length, perhaps more to relieve my mind than otherwise, I
+begged my <i>Nachbarin</i> to lend me a coin, which I slipped without a word
+into the creature's hand. To the surprise of both of us, she made no
+sign of acceptance or thanks. Ten or fifteen minutes later she rose, and
+coming near us she began to stammer out her thanks and to tell us how
+poor she was&mdash;that she could not work, and that for a month she had been
+coming to the park, hoping that where there were so many rich people
+some would kindly give her a trifle; but that in all that time but one
+person had done so&mdash;a gentleman who had given her a gulden; and if we
+would look she would point him out. We looked: it was the distinguished
+stranger. I confess to have been gratified, and to feeling confident
+that if he was one of the foreigners<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> that Aunt Edith had bade me beware
+of, he was at least a gentleman and a Christian.</p>
+
+<p>The last of August was nearing, and, as the heat was intense, I often
+went up a hill at the back of the park to be alone and enjoy the breezy
+atmosphere and the charming view the elevation commanded. On one of
+these occasions&mdash;it was the twenty-fifth and my birthday&mdash;I was more
+than usually absorbed in my thoughts when my attention was caught by a
+shadow passing over the declivity a little removed from where I sat, and
+looking up I recognized the giver of alms. He lifted his hat, begged
+pardon and hoped it was not an indiscretion to ask if I had recovered my
+purse; which opened the way to further conversation. The sun was fast
+setting, and the scene on earth and sky was resplendent. Leaning upon a
+rock, he contemplated the miracle in silent adoration.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that is equal to what I have so often seen in America," I remarked.</p>
+
+<p>After a moment he replied, "For many years no land has so much
+interested me as America, and upon no people do I look with so much
+interest. America gave me my supremest joy and my profoundest sorrow.
+Perhaps this confession may, in a measure, excuse my impolite intrusion
+upon you, as I am so thoroughly a stranger."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and a foreigner," I laughed. "I have a dear, beautiful aunt Edith
+at home who warned me against foreigners. This is my <i>f&ecirc;te</i>, and as her
+birthday is the same as mine, I am naturally thinking of her just now,
+and recall her sage advice. As the sun is down, I will follow it and bid
+you good-night."</p>
+
+<p>As I rose to go he made no reply, as if he had been indifferent to what
+I had said. I glanced at his face: it was ashen white. He was opening a
+locket attached to his watchguard, from which he lifted a ring of dark
+hair, and then drawing it nearer his eyes he spoke as if reading a date:
+"Le vingt-cinq ao&ucirc;t."</p>
+
+<p>The pallor of his face, joined to its outline, which was in full
+profile, held me where I stood as if spellbound. Somewhere, a long time
+ago, I had seen that face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is an unusual coincidence," he remarked, as if just
+comprehending what had been said. "But your aunt Edith must be much
+older than you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No: only ten years."</p>
+
+<p>"Is she married?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"And you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nor I, monsieur. We belong to the noble army of old maids, which on the
+other side is a more honorable and obstinate sisterhood than here."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled faintly, and wiped his forehead with a large white
+handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p>"If I should go to America," he observed, "I should greatly desire to
+visit the locality where women like you live and die unmarried."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, for that matter, you can't miss them," I replied laughingly:
+"they're common from Maine to California. Spinsterhood is an outgrowth
+of our Declaration of Independence&mdash;'liberty and the pursuit of
+happiness.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But, really, I desire to know the name of the place where you live: I
+am sure it will interest me greatly. Will you not write it for me?" And
+he offered me a blank card.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, certainly, but I don't understand why."</p>
+
+<p>"I may possibly go and see your aunt Edith and tell her I saw you on the
+top of a mountain. Perhaps you would like to send her a message?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you see her," I replied in the same tone, moving away, "tell
+her I haven't forgotten to beware of foreigners."</p>
+
+<p>"Just one more word," he entreated, following me. "Is your aunt Edith,
+Edith Mack?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but how should you know?" and in that moment it flashed upon my
+mind like sudden daybreak. "And you are&mdash;" I stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"A man who has loved her many a year. To-morrow I leave Vienna for
+England, to sail for New York. I cannot say more to you now than that I
+begin to see my way through a sad, sad mystery. Here is my card.
+Adieu!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The bright glow left in the atmosphere by the brilliant sunset had quite
+died away, but it was light enough for me to read the superscription:
+"<span class="smcap">Le Chevalier Achille Roma</span>."</p>
+
+<p>I walked back to my lodgings in a manner probably quite sane to other
+people, although the distance was compassed by myself in a condition of
+complete unconsciousness as to how. Like the phantasmagoria of fated
+events swept before my mind the train of complicated circumstances that
+had led to my finding Aunt Edith's lost lover. And the beautiful romance
+at the end had resulted from my having disregarded her warning to
+"beware of foreigners."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>There is not much more to tell. I left Baden at the end of the month,
+and returned to Paris. Six weeks later I had a letter from Aunt Edith
+urging me to come home for her wedding, which would take place prior to
+the holidays. The Chevalier Roma had long since become convinced that
+his "friend," the consul at Rome, was the key to the whole mischief, but
+his suspicions in that direction came too late for him to regain a clue
+to Aunt Edith. Several letters sent to her name at New York of course
+had never reached her. The surest and quickest way to accomplish his
+desire, to prove to the heart he had through so many years cherished how
+true and loyal had been his allegiance, how deep and sincere his love,
+was the one he had chosen and acted upon with such alacrity.</p>
+
+<p>A few weeks after my aunt's marriage I received the wedding-cards of
+Herr Schwager and Miss Kate Barton. After all, merry Kate had accepted a
+"horrid German" for her husband, and thereby the truth suddenly dawned
+upon my mind that <i>I</i> had been the recipient of the Herr's exceeding
+kindness because I was "neighbor to the rose."</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Mary Wager-Fisher.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><a name="THE_CENSUS_OF_1880" id="THE_CENSUS_OF_1880"></a>THE CENSUS OF 1880.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>The taking of the census of the United States is, at any time, an event
+of national interest and importance. That of the tenth census, in 1880,
+will be especially interesting, as marking the completion of the first
+century of our declared independence. We shall then ascertain, more
+fully and concisely than we have yet been able to do, exactly what
+progress has been made in one hundred years by a people left free to
+work out its own destiny, alike in form of government and in material,
+moral and intellectual development, under no check except its own
+self-imposed restraints. The record of such progress ought to be the
+most valuable contribution ever made to political, economic and social
+science. Whether it shall prove so or not depends chiefly on the manner
+in which the essential work is done. It is already time that public
+attention should be drawn to this important event, since the law under
+which the census is to be taken must, if it shall be at all adequate to
+the occasion, be passed by the present Congress.</p>
+
+<p>The United States is the first nation which ever implanted in its
+Constitution a provision for taking at regular periods a census of its
+people. The makers of that instrument seemed to have an intuitive sense
+of the importance of such a step, for they had no guide and borrowed
+from no precedent. It is true the fundamental law provides only for an
+enumeration of persons, but under the authority given to Congress to
+"provide for the general welfare" such laws have heretofore been passed
+as have rendered our census reports documents of inestimable value. It
+is doubtful if any people have ever taken so great pains<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> to find out
+"how they are getting along," or have ever made so great and immediate
+use of that information. So marked is the fact that the Constitution
+requires a decennial census that a distinguished French writer on
+statistics declares, "The United States presents in its history a
+phenomenon which has no parallel. It is that of a people who instituted
+the statistics of their country on the very day when they formed their
+government, and who regulated in the same instrument the census of their
+citizens, their civil and political rights and the destinies of their
+country."</p>
+
+<p>To understand the progressive steps by which our census has reached its
+present magnitude and importance a brief glance is necessary at the
+successive laws under which the enumeration has been made and the manner
+in which their results have been presented.</p>
+
+<p>The first census was taken in 1790, under the act of March 1 of that
+year, and many of the worst features of that tentative experiment still
+remain to vex the soul of every one who desires a census which shall be
+in accord with the demands of science and the times. Then, as now, the
+United States marshals were designated to conduct the enumeration. They
+were authorized to employ as many assistants as might be needful, and
+each assistant was required, prior to making his return, to "cause a
+correct copy of the schedule, signed by himself, to be set up at two of
+the most public places within his division, there to remain for the
+inspection of all concerned." It is from this crude law that the
+mischievous custom is borrowed of having a copy of the census returns
+deposited with the county court clerk. As originally conducted, the
+system was harmless, since only the names of heads of families were
+given and only the number of persons constituting the family reported.
+The compensation was also based on the number of persons returned by the
+assistant marshals. The form of schedule was as follows:</p>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Sensus schedule">
+<tr>
+<td align='center'>Names of Heads of Families.</td>
+<td align='center'>Free White Males of 16 years and upwards, including heads of families.</td>
+<td align='center'>Free White Males under 16 years.</td>
+<td align='center'>Free White Females, including heads of families.</td>
+<td align='center'>All Other Free Persons.</td>
+<td align='center'>Slaves.</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Such and so simple were the results sought at the first census, the
+enumeration for which was to commence on the 1st of August, 1790, and to
+close within nine months thereafter, and the returns were to be made to
+the President of the United States on or before September, 1, 1791.
+These results were published in an octavo pamphlet of fifty-two pages.
+No officer of the government seems to have had any supervision of the
+work of preparing it for the press. The returns were doubtless handed by
+the President to some clerk for compilation, and communicated to
+Congress along with other routine and miscellaneous documents
+accompanying the annual message.</p>
+
+<p>The second census was taken under the act of February 28, 1800, and,
+like the first, was confined to an enumeration of the population under
+the care of the United States marshals, but the whole work was
+prosecuted under the direction of the Secretary of State. The number of
+facts to be returned was somewhat enlarged by further inquiries into the
+ages of the inhabitants: otherwise there was no substantial change.</p>
+
+<p>The act providing for the taking of the third census was passed March
+26, 1810, and was almost identical with that for the second census.</p>
+
+<p>A great step in advance was, however, taken in the act of May 1, 1810,
+which imposed upon the marshals and their assistants the additional duty
+of taking, under direction of the Secretary of the Treasury, Albert
+Gallatin, an account of the manufacturing establishments and
+manufactures of the several districts, at an aggregate expense not
+exceeding thirty thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>The only changes introduced into the act of March 14, 1820, for taking
+the fourth census, provided for a return of the number of males between
+sixteen and eighteen, the number of foreigners not naturalized, and the
+colored population by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> age and sex. The provisions for a return of
+manufactures were re-enacted, the results to be reported to the
+Secretary of State (J.Q. Adams). But these returns, like those of the
+third census, were of very slight value.</p>
+
+<p>In the act of March 23, 1830, for taking the fifth census, provision is
+made for ascertaining the number of blind and deaf and dumb, and the
+returns of age and sex were required with greater fulness than before.
+The time for commencing the enumeration was changed from August 1 to
+June 1, and the work was to be completed in six instead of nine months.
+The return of manufactures required by the two preceding census laws was
+omitted.</p>
+
+<p>The act of March 3, 1839, for the sixth census, differed very slightly
+from that for the fifth, except that returns were also required of the
+number of insane and idiotic, the number of Revolutionary pensioners,
+and of the manufacturing, agricultural and educational statistics. By an
+amendment adopted February 26, 1840, the time for completing the
+enumeration was reduced to five months from June 1, and, for the first
+time provision is made for special supervision of the work by requiring
+the appointment of a superintending clerk.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it appears that down to the taking of the sixth census, in 1840,
+the chief object aimed at was the enumeration of the population. No
+effort was made to arrive at, or even approach, by any thorough and
+scientific process the great facts relating to our material progress and
+prosperity, or to supervise the publication of such returns as were
+required. But the report for that year shows a great advance over any
+preceding one both in quantity and quality of information. The decade
+then closing was one of great life and movement. The States west of the
+Alleghanies were rapidly filling up with immigrants, whose arrival was
+followed by speculations hitherto unknown. Fabulous wealth was speedily
+followed by utter bankruptcy. The railroad, the steamship and the
+telegraph foreshadowed the approaching revolution in methods of commerce
+and communication. A new life was dawning.</p>
+
+<p>These commercial changes and social revolutions were continued with
+increasing intensity during the next decade. The great famine in Ireland
+sent us swarms of laborers. The Mexican war brought us California, and
+the discovery of gold there marked the beginning of a new era in our
+material condition. It was under the influence of these stimulating
+events that the seventh census was undertaken. To make such preparations
+that it should, to some extent, embody the spirit of the time and
+furnish us with a correct statement of our condition under the new
+impulses and burdens of the nation, an act was passed March 3, 1849,
+creating a census board, whose duty it should be to prepare, and cause
+to be printed, forms and schedules for the enumeration of the
+population, and also for collecting "such information as to mines,
+agriculture, commerce, manufactures, education and other topics as will
+exhibit a full view of the pursuits, industry, education and resources
+of the country; <i>provided</i>, the number of said inquiries, exclusive of
+enumeration, shall not exceed one hundred." On the same day the
+Department of the Interior was established, and all matters relating to
+the census were transferred to that department. The census board
+reported "an act for taking the seventh and subsequent censuses of the
+United States," which became a law May 23, 1850, and under that law the
+censuses of 1850, 1860 and 1870 were taken.</p>
+
+<p>However far that law was an improvement upon either of those under which
+the preceding censuses were taken, it is now wholly inadequate&mdash;so much
+so, indeed, that the superintendent of the ninth census (1870) declared,
+"It is not possible for one who has had such painful occasion as the
+present superintendent to observe the workings of the census law of 1870
+to characterize it otherwise than as clumsy, antiquated and barbarous.
+The machinery it provides is as unfit for use in the census of the
+United States in this day of advanced statistical science as the
+smooth-bore muzzle-loading 'queen's arm' of the Revolution would be for
+service against the repeating rifle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> of the present time." It includes
+many inquiries which are practically worthless, and excludes many
+vitally necessary to an understanding of our social and industrial
+condition. Thus the questions, "Has this season produced average crops?"
+"What crops are short?" "What are the average wages of a female domestic
+per week, without board?" "How much road-tax did you pay, and how?" may
+be of some interest, if regarded as conundrums, but are practically of
+as little value as the color of one's hair or the average number of
+hours one sleeps; while, as matters of fact, the answers to them have
+been so unsatisfactory that no attempt has ever been made to classify
+them, and in the census of 1870 they were discarded altogether, though
+still forming part of the law. Nor is the method required for
+ascertaining the facts relating to manufactures of any greater value.
+The inquiries are the same in regard to every kind of industry, whether
+the product be cloth, leather, iron or silver, and are confined solely
+to wages, kinds and quantities. No means are provided for ascertaining
+with skill and exactness the necessary details of the varied
+manufactures of the country. The schedules for agricultural returns are
+also the same for all sections&mdash;for cotton and sugar-cane in Maine, for
+maple-sugar and hops in Louisiana. These, however, are merely
+superficial defects, some of which might easily be remedied in the hands
+of a competent superintendent, as was the case with the census of 1870.
+The graver inherent defects are equally obvious, but not equally
+susceptible of remedy. Nothing short of a new law will accomplish that
+result.</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, the officer designated to take the census is, in
+every point of view, objectionable. That officer is the United States
+marshal, originally selected, probably, for no better reason than that,
+as there was such an officer in every State whose services could be made
+available, it was better to use him than to create a new office. But
+neither the legitimate duties of his office nor the department to which
+he belongs justify such a selection. His duties are chiefly connected
+with violations of law, and he is necessarily associated in public
+opinion with the criminal side of life. A police-officer is not a good
+census-taker. Moreover, many of the States are divided into several
+marshalships from considerations which do not at all enter into the
+taking of the census. Thus, New York has three districts, the largest of
+which contains more than two and a quarter millions of inhabitants,
+while Florida has two districts, the smaller of which, but by far the
+more important so far as the legitimate duties of the marshal are
+concerned, contains scarcely six thousand inhabitants. Massachusetts is
+a district with over a million and a third of people: so is Arizona,
+with less than ten thousand.</p>
+
+<p>Then the methods of payment are unfair, irrational and cumbersome. They
+bear no relation to the amount of work performed, are irregular in their
+operation, are obscure in their manner of calculation, and impose
+needless labor alike on the officer to be paid and the census office. To
+say that the square root of an area multiplied by the square root of the
+number of horses indicates the number of miles travelled in taking a
+census is as absurd as to say that the square root of the yards of cloth
+in a suit multiplied by the square root of the number of stitches taken
+to make the suit will give the length of the thread used. In its
+practical working in 1860 the result was to give to one assistant
+marshal a per diem of $1.66 and to another $31.32 for the same labor. A
+proposition which works out such a result may serve for a joke in negro
+minstrelsy: it will hardly be accepted as honest figuring by the
+recipient of the minimum pay.</p>
+
+<p>But the greatest objection of all is to the schedules created by the law
+of 1850. The number of inquiries is limited by that law to one hundred,
+though why that number should be selected as the limit, except at
+haphazard, is a mystery. It is purely arbitrary, and in its practical
+working is mischievous. Statistical inquiries ought to be exhaustive,
+whether the questions asked are ten or ten thousand. To limit the number
+to one hundred requires the lumping together<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> of incongruous facts or
+the entire omission of some of prime importance. Of what real value is
+the answer to the question, "Kind of motive-power?" in relation to
+manufactures unless other details are given? Yet only such questions can
+be asked where the margin is so narrow. In the census of Massachusetts
+for 1875, 304 inquiries were made, embracing 1337 topics; and so
+satisfactorily was the work done that out of a population of 1,651,912
+only 43 persons were unaccounted for when the statistics of occupations
+were compiled; while in the United States census of 1870 the number thus
+unaccounted for exceeded 1,000,000. In Rhode Island no less than 561
+inquiries were made in the census of 1875, and the result is the most
+complete census&mdash;not merely of persons, but of every kind of manufacture
+and production&mdash;yet taken in any State. The returns of cotton, woollen
+and iron manufactures show what can and ought to be done in that
+direction for the whole nation in 1880. They answer the requirements set
+forth by the superintendent of the census of 1870 by presenting "tables
+so full of technical information as to become the handbook of
+manufacturers."</p>
+
+<p>By the side of the census reports for 1875 of Massachusetts and Rhode
+Island, and even of the young State of Iowa, those of the United States
+hitherto published appear like incomplete, vague and childish efforts.
+For instance, in the census of Massachusetts for 1875, in the
+agricultural statistics, 140 different items are reported, exclusive of
+10 included among "domestic products," but reckoned in the United States
+census among agricultural products. Of these 150 items, only 24 are
+reported in the United States census of 1870, although some of those
+omitted are from $1,500,000 to $5,000,000 in annual value. In the case
+of manufactures the defects are still more striking&mdash;ludicrously so but
+for the importance of the subject. By the schedules of 1850 the facts
+called for in regard to manufactures are simply these: number of
+establishments, horse-power, hands employed, capital, wages, materials,
+products. The 1 establishment which employed 3 hands and turned out
+$3000 worth of artificial eyes demanded and received exactly the same
+treatment with the 22,573 flouring- and grist-mills with their army of
+58,448 workmen and $444,985,143 of products. On this Procrustean bed all
+are stretched or shrunken&mdash;the giant industries by which men are fed,
+clothed, housed and shod, with their 1,000,000 of men and $2,000,000,000
+of products, and the pigmy occupations of making skewers,
+calcium-lights, mops, dusters, etc., employing 150 persons and
+aggregating $150,000 of products.</p>
+
+<p>And this leads directly to a consideration of the measures necessary to
+secure a proper census of the United States in 1880. To begin with, as
+already reiterated, a new law is imperatively demanded: no good thing
+can come of the present statute. As early as possible during this
+present Congress a committee on the tenth census should be appointed,
+which should carefully study the laws and methods of every civilized
+state and country in which a census is taken, and from these collect
+whatever is best, giving at the same time ample power to the
+superintendent in all matters of administration and appointment. Such a
+law might be as short and simple as that of Rhode Island, which is
+comprised in eight brief sections, yet is so comprehensive that under
+its provisions was compiled the most complete census yet taken in this
+country, if not in the world.</p>
+
+<p>The time at which the census is taken should be changed from June 1 to
+at least November 1, if not to January 1, when the labors of the year
+are ended, when the harvest has been gathered in, the books made up and
+the family naturally talk over the events of the past twelve-month.
+Then, if ever, is the time when full, frank and honest answers will be
+given, and the census-taker will be hailed rather as a friend than an
+enemy in disguise. The method adopted years ago in all other civilized
+countries, and in Massachusetts and Rhode Island in 1875, of leaving the
+blank schedules in advance at each house and manufactory, to be filled
+up carefully and thoughtfully, and to be called for on a given day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
+should also be adopted. The result of the first attempt in Massachusetts
+was that 37 per cent. of the schedules was found ready for delivery to
+the enumerator, and for the remaining 63 per cent. the labor was greatly
+diminished by the readiness of the people to answer all inquiries
+intelligently. The number who at first failed or refused to comply was
+only one hundred, and of manufacturers less than twenty; and these all
+subsequently made the necessary returns. The total answers of all kinds
+received at the census office was 13,000,000, at a cost to the State of
+one dollar for each hundred answers.</p>
+
+<p>Under such a law, enacted by the present Congress, and by such methods,
+the census report of 1880 would become a document to which every good
+citizen could point with pride and congratulation. We should no longer
+be mortified with such errors and shortcomings as are so frankly
+commented on in the census report of 1870. We should have not merely a
+correct enumeration of the population, with all the important facts
+connected with their domestic and social condition, but also such a
+return of the occupations, manufacturing industries, education and
+commercial operations, and all the elements which go to make up the
+material well-being of the races on this portion of the continent, as
+would mark a new departure in our national life. The absurd inanities
+which characterize so much of the report of the superintendent of the
+census of 1860, and the <i>doctrinaire</i> theories injected into the report
+of 1850, ought never again to find expression in any public document
+bearing the official sanction of the United States.</p>
+
+<p>The census report of 1860, as compared with that of 1870, is as the
+Serbonian bog to a well-appointed lawn. For the first time since its
+inception the taking of the census was in 1870 placed in thoroughly
+competent hands. By inherited ability, as well as by previous training,
+General Walker possesses in an eminent degree the qualities essential to
+the fitting and successful execution of such a task. At every step he
+shows the skill and readiness of a master workman; and it will be
+fortunate for the country if he shall be selected as superintendent of
+the tenth census under a law of his own devising.</p>
+
+<p>As to the results to be revealed by the tenth census, it is not worth
+while to speculate. That they will be disappointing in many aspects to
+the national pride, or at least to the national vanity, there can be
+little doubt; but it is to be hoped we have outlived the period when the
+truth can make us angry. Of course there will be no such increase of
+population as marked our earlier career down to 1860, nor should we
+expect much increase in the reported wealth of the country since 1870.
+For the first time, except in the decade from 1820 to 1830, there will
+be no increase of area, unless all signs fail. Whatever the changes may
+be, they will more fully concern our social and political condition than
+in any previous decade, except perhaps the last.</p>
+
+<p>An early and intelligent interest in this important subject is all that
+is requisite to secure the needed reform. It is not creditable to the
+country that the census of 1870 was taken under the provisions of the
+law of 1850: it will be disgraceful should that of 1880 be subjected to
+the same fate, as it must be unless a new law is passed before the first
+of January of that year. The matter should be pressed upon the attention
+of Congress during its present session. In 1870 an admirable law was
+passed by the House of Representatives under the skilful and intelligent
+leadership of Hon. James A. Garfield, but it failed in the Senate
+because of the apathy of some and the personal pique of others. It seems
+incredible that in that dignified body so little attention was paid to
+this vast subject. Again and again its consideration was postponed
+because a sufficient attendance could not be secured to act upon the
+proposed law, which at last fell to the ground, a victim to the
+indifference and prejudice of those who ought to have acted more wisely
+in a matter that so nearly concerns the welfare and good name of a great
+nation.</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Henry Stone.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
+<div class='padding'><h2><a name="CHANG-HOW_AND_ANARKY" id="CHANG-HOW_AND_ANARKY"></a>CHANG-HOW AND ANARKY.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Gret beezle!"</p>
+
+<p>A dismayed silence while Anarky, our cook&mdash;black as night, eyes set
+square in her head, that head set level on her stout black
+shoulders&mdash;walked around the Chinese youth my husband had brought home
+as an experiment in our domestic life&mdash;around the Chinese youth with his
+wiry frame and insinuating stoop of the shoulders, and a smile of
+neutral tint lying placid but wary on his buff countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"Lordy-mussy!" quoth Anarky. Another vehement, aggressive pause on her
+part, a silence observant and self-defensive on his. "Name o' Satan,
+Mis' Maud! what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is to be your fellow-servant, Anarky."</p>
+
+<p>"Gret Beezle! Wish I may die ef I didn't think it wor a yaller rat!"</p>
+
+<p>"Anarky, I am ashamed of you! What should Mr. Smith want with a yellow
+rat?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thought he bought it at de sukus in New York, an' gif to you like he
+did dat monkey. Ef it ain't no rat, an' ain't a monkey, name o' Satan,
+what kin it be? 'Tain't a 'ooman, for all dem gret long sleeves: you
+know dat yo'se'f. An' 'tain't like no man as eber <i>I</i> seed. What dat
+hangin' on to its head? An' what motter wid its eyes, sot crank-sided
+right 'ginst its nose, kickin' up der heels, pintin' ebry way for
+Sunday&mdash;one en' uv um ez sharp as a 'nittin'-needle, an' tudder en' ez
+roun' ez a marble?"</p>
+
+<p>Chang-how sent one eye skirmishing in my direction, and the other toward
+Anarky, and the same deprecatory yet wary smile rested like moonlight on
+his placid face.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do, Anarky," said I. "I wish you to understand that this is
+to be your fellow-servant. You will cook and wash as usual. Chang-how
+will attend in the dining-room, and do I don't know yet exactly what
+else; but I wish you to be kind to him, remembering that he is a
+stranger in a strange land. Also, I will have no further remarks on his
+personal appearance."</p>
+
+<p>Silenced by authority, but unmoved by my eloquence, Anarky made another
+tour of inspection&mdash;silently raised the end of Chang-how's queue,
+disgustedly let it fall, and went to the door. There she stopped and
+looked at him again. "Good Lord!" said she under her breath by way of
+parting salute.</p>
+
+<p>The look of mild unconcern that had rested on Chang-how's features was
+rippled by a quaint, cunning smile, and for the first time he cast a
+quick glance full at her, then stood again with folded hands, calm,
+submissive, apparently unobservant.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing the antagonism that was likely to exist between them, I myself
+showed Chang-how and his bundle to the room he was to occupy, and in a
+short time he emerged clad in a neat white jacket, his queue deftly
+bound around his head, ready for business.</p>
+
+<p>The fellow was exceedingly bright and quick, and, though he never seemed
+to be "takin' notes," nothing escaped his observation. He learned our
+ways in an incredibly short time, and when those ways did not come in
+conflict with any habit previously formed he adapted himself to them at
+once; but woe to any pet notion that interfered with Chang's
+preconceived ideas! That notion had to go to the wall. However, that has
+nothing to do here.</p>
+
+<p>Whether Chang-how had been "takin' notes" was a debatable point, but
+that somebody was taking everything takable on the premises soon became
+a self-evident proposition; and this was uncomfortable for more reasons
+than one. Mr. Smith and I almost quarrelled about it. He would not
+believe it to be Chang-how, and I was determined it should not be
+Anarky. Said he, "Anarky is taking advantage of the popular idea that
+the Chinese are invariably dis&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Now, who ever heard anything like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> that?" I interrupted. "What does
+Anarky know about the popular idea concerning the Chinese? About as much
+as I should know if you were to talk to me about the Teutonic idiom for
+mezzo-tinted phonetics."</p>
+
+<p>"You have convinced me, my dear, that Chang-how is the guilty party; but
+the idea I meant to convey before you knocked me down with those big
+words was this&mdash;that Anarky, knowing what people think of the Chinese,
+indulges her dishonest yearnings, believing we shall suppose the thief
+to be Chang-how."</p>
+
+<p>"But I know it <i>isn't</i> Anarky, because Anarky always had a blundering,
+awkward, above-board way of stealing that made it only <i>taking</i> things,
+and she was always getting caught; and Chang-how always manages not to
+be found out. And I know it is Chang-how; I know it by that. It shows he
+is used to it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"It does! and I know it <i>is</i> Chang-how and it <i>isn't</i> Anarky."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Smith laughed again, and said women were born to be lawyers.</p>
+
+<p>Chang-how would come to me (he was dining-room servant, you remember):
+"Evly one spoonee no come homee."</p>
+
+<p>"How you mean, Chang-how? Where spoonee go?"</p>
+
+<p>"All no light: all longee. Spoonee go 'way: I no find him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but you must find them, Chang-how. How many go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Four spoonee."</p>
+
+<p>"But they are solid silver! You really must find them."</p>
+
+<p>"You tell where lookee, I go lookee."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I don't know were you are to look. And two forks were missing
+last week!"</p>
+
+<p>I stared reflectively at a June-bug on the window-sill. Chang-how stood
+with folded hands and drooping shoulders, a seraphic calm upon his
+features, as of one who had stood upon the burning deck when all but he
+had fled. Evidently he had done his duty. I was so impressed with this
+fact, and that the responsibility, if not the guilt, was now mine, that
+I simply said, "Go set the table then, Chang-how. Mr. Smith will have
+to tell us what to do when he comes home."</p>
+
+<p>Exit Chang.</p>
+
+<p>Enter Anarky: "Mis' Maud, how many hank'chers you sent out dis week?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-three, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"An' now I ain't got but nineteen. You see dat? How many socks for Mas'
+Jim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Six or seven, I suppose. Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see dat again? Ain't but fo' par lef'! Ef I don't beat him, shoze
+I'm a nigger!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your Mas' Jim?" I asked, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tain't nobody but dat yaller varmint dat's stealin' roun' de
+lot.&mdash;Lor'! Lor'! ef I jes' could cotch him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Anarky, while we are talking about it, I&mdash;I really wish you would
+manage a little better about the biscuit and&mdash;well, the eggs, and&mdash;and a
+good many little things of the kind. I am sure we have an abundance of
+everything, and it mortifies me exceedingly not to have it at table.
+Haven't you and Chang everything you want, and as much?"</p>
+
+<p>"We gits more'n 'nuff. An' what goes outen de kitchen goes correc'. Whar
+dey lands 'tween dar an' de din'-room don't nobody know but dat yaller
+dorg. I misses things cornstant&mdash;things dat I ain't took my eyes off
+'em, 'cep' ter wink; an', bless de Lord! while I wor a-winkin' de lard
+done took to its heels or de flour flewed away."</p>
+
+<p>The next evening, when Chang brought in supper, Anarky walked by his
+side in solemn state, empty-handed, dignified, watchful. He appeared
+totally unconscious of his escort, and I made no remark; but Mr. Smith
+sent him into the hall on an errand, and during his absence Anarky rose
+to explain: "Which you see all dem biskit, Mis' Maud?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes: I am glad we are getting all right again, Anarky."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I got dat many mo' in de ub'n now&mdash;jes' like I use ter hab 'fo'
+dat&mdash;" Here an appalling idea seemed to strike her. "War dat Chow-chow
+nigger?" she exclaimed, and made a dash toward the door. As she reached
+it Chang-how quietly glided in and handed Mr. Smith the paper he had
+gone for.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The next moment a sound came from the kitchen&mdash;something between a howl
+and a roar&mdash;and following in its wake came Anarky. Almost inarticulate
+with rage, she shook her brawny fist in Chang-how's face. "You
+good-fur-nuthin' yaller <i>houn'!</i>" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith wheeled around on his chair and looked at her in stern
+surprise. Chang-how stood his ground and gazed at her with the unruffled
+calm of a full moon beaming o'er a raging sea.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to us, trembling with excitement: "Well, ef dat ain't de
+beatinest trick et ebber I seed! Think dat yaller houn' ain't stole de
+biskit outen de ub'n? An', 'fo' Gord! I didn't know he'd been out o'
+here long 'nuff for a dog to snap at a fly! Ef you ain't de
+oudaishusest&mdash;" She stopped and glared at him with the despairing,
+silent venom of one who felt herself a pauper in words, a verbal
+failure, a wretched creature who in the supreme hour of trial was
+proving herself the wrong person in the wrong place.</p>
+
+<p>Chang-how's hands were folded, and his eyes rested dreamily on the
+floor. Evidently, he was contentedly rolling tea-leaves in his native
+land.</p>
+
+<p>Suspiciously regarding the abnormal appearance of Chang-how's neat white
+jacket, I forbore to rebuke my sable favorite, but Mr. Smith, not having
+observed the little protuberances which had attracted my attention
+toward his more delicately-tinted prot&eacute;g&eacute;, said with decision, "Go to
+the kitchen, Anarky, and send in supper or bring it yourself; and make
+haste about it."</p>
+
+<p>Anarky turned again to Chang-how and fixed her great black eyes on him
+in silence. Then she sounded a note of solemn warning: "Lord! Lord!
+Shang-hai!" said she, "ef ebber I <i>does</i> cotch you out an' out, ef ebber
+I <i>does</i> git a good square holt on you, I'll t'ar you all to pieces! Yo'
+mammy won't want what'll be left uv you, 'cos' 'twon't be wuf berryin'!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut upee! too much jawee," said Chang-how benignly, and dreamed again
+of his native land. But for three days nothing was missing in Anarky's
+department, and so far Chang-how escaped with unbroken bones.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening of the fourth day I received a letter announcing the
+coming of visitors, and it unfortunately occurred to me that Chang-how
+might assist Anarky in the laundry, thus affording her an opportunity
+for greater display in the culinary department; so I called him up: "You
+washeeman, Chang-how?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, I washee all light," said Chang.</p>
+
+<p>"You help Anarky iron to-day I give you more money."</p>
+
+<p>"All light! How muchee?"</p>
+
+<p>"One dollar."</p>
+
+<p>"Two dollar."</p>
+
+<p>"One dollar."</p>
+
+<p>"No washee one dollar," said Chang.</p>
+
+<p>"No washee at all, then."</p>
+
+<p>"One dollar ap."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor a dollar and a half: I get other washee."</p>
+
+<p>"Melican man no washee ap."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes. Melican woman suit me."</p>
+
+<p>"All light! I washee one dollar."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. As soon, then, as you leave the dining-room go to the
+laundry. And, Chang, no make cook cross."</p>
+
+<p>"Cook too much talkee: cookee bad egg."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you no make cookee cross perhaps I give you more money."</p>
+
+<p>"All light! How muchee?"</p>
+
+<p>"No matter: a quarter."</p>
+
+<p>"Ap."</p>
+
+<p>"A half, then."</p>
+
+<p>Going to the laundry, I said to Anarky, "Chang-how will assist you in
+the ironing to-day, so that you can get through quickly and show my
+friends some of your best cooking, Anarky. I do hope&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What Shang-doodle know 'bout i'unin'?" asked Anarky sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he knows ever so much," said I with cheerful faith; "and I do hope
+you will try to get on nicely with him this time. You know what the
+Bible says about brothers dwelling together in unity, and all that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Chang-jaw ain't none o' my brudder, an' I ain't none o' his'n,"
+resisted Anarky.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, we are all brothers; and if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> you will only be Chang-how's long
+enough to get through with the ironing, I will give you almost anything
+you want."</p>
+
+<p>"Gimme a nigger all day long," said Anarky: "I fa'rly hates a Chinee an'
+a Orrisher."</p>
+
+<p>"Try it to-day, though, Anarky, for my sake," said I persuasively; and
+she consented, though sulkily enough.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing Chang-how coming, I seated myself on the stairway leading into
+the laundry, curious to see how they would work together.</p>
+
+<p>Anarky pointed authoritatively to a heap of dried linen. "Sprinkle dem
+ar cloze," said she to Chang. "I'm gwine out in de yard to git what's on
+de line."</p>
+
+<p>While she was gone, Chang-how, as is the manner of his people, filled
+his mouth with water, and was blowing it in a fine spray over the linen
+when Anarky appeared in the doorway, a basket of clothes on her head,
+her knuckles on her hips. As she caught sight of Chang-how moistening
+the linen with water from his mouth she stopped: she staggered, her
+basket fell to the floor, and, stooping down, she threw her hands above
+her head, then brought them down again with a violent slap on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lor'! come down," said she, "an' look at dat yaller houn'
+a-spittin' on Mis' Maud's cloze.&mdash;I got you now! Can't nobody blame me
+fur beatin' you 'bout <i>dat</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Then she flew at him, and what a scene it was! She, black, brawny, of
+immense physical power&mdash;he, lithe, sinewy, supple as a panther. It was a
+spectacle! First one, then the other, seemed to have the advantage. She
+would catch him in her powerful grasp, and, lifting him off his feet,
+swing him in the air as if about to slam him to his final resting-place,
+when by some inexplicable man&#339;uvre he would writhe from between her
+fingers or wriggle himself to the back of her neck and mash her nose
+flat against her breast as if bent on suffocating her or breaking her
+neck. In a moment she would reach back with both hands and pull him over
+her head very much as men doff a shirt. Likely as not, Chang came down
+with his heels in the air, and at it they would go again. Presently she
+was tripped, and fell with a violence that should have broken every bone
+in her body, but before Chang-how could pursue his advantage she had
+wheeled on her side, wound his queue halfway up her arm and had her knee
+on his breast.</p>
+
+<p>"Good for you, An&mdash;! I mean, aren't you ashamed of yourself? Stop! for
+Heaven's sake, stop! You might kill him."</p>
+
+<p>As well have spoken to the winds. And as they became more terribly in
+earnest I began to scream for help: "Stop, Anarky! (Murder!
+murder!)&mdash;Here, Chang, take the poker. (<i>Mu&mdash;u&mdash;u&mdash;r&mdash;</i>der!) Great
+Heaven! don't hit her with it! Stop, Chang-how! (Mur&mdash;<i>d&mdash;e&mdash;r!</i> Oh,
+mercy! somebody come!)&mdash;Here, Anarky, take the pota-
+(Mur&mdash;<i>d&mdash;e&mdash;r&mdash;rr!</i>)&mdash;potato-masher and don't kill
+(<i>M&mdash;u&mdash;r</i>&mdash;der!)&mdash;kill him with it, unless he kills you first.&mdash;Oh,
+mercy! mercy! I don't know what else to give you all to keep you from
+killing (Murder!)&mdash;killing each other with.&mdash;Anarky, you are breaking
+his neck!&mdash;Here's a flatiron, Chang! (Murder! Fire! fire! fire!)"</p>
+
+<p>This brought the neighbors and the neighbors' children, and their
+neighbors and their neighbors' children, and finally a forlorn
+policeman, who marched Anarky to the magistrate's office and left Chang
+to do up his pigtail at leisure, and reflect how often he had sinned and
+gone unwhipt of justice, and now, in the hour of peace and in the act of
+duty, retribution had deliberately sought him out, and found him and
+disposed of him as afore told.</p>
+
+<p>It seems that Anarky went quietly enough to the magistrate, who gave her
+the choice between going to jail and depositing five dollars as security
+for her appearance next morning for examination. Not having five dollars
+to deposit, she was allowed an hour in which to seek some one who would
+go bail for her. At the end of that time she returned to the office
+panting, exhausted, wiping the perspiration from her face with her blue
+cotton apron.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Who is going bail for you?" she was asked.</p>
+
+<p>Calmly turning down the sleeves that had been rolled above her shining
+black elbows, she replied with contempt, "I ain't been arter no bail: I
+dun been home an' finish beatin' de lites outen dat yaller houn'. Dat
+all de bail <i>I</i> wants! Which ef ennybody's lookin' fur him, dey kin
+fin' his pigtail, an' maybe a piece uv his head a-stickin' to it, hin'
+de chick'n-coop at Mas' Jim's. Now kyar me to jail an' lemme res'. I
+boun' he don't spit on no mo' cloze <i>I</i> got ter han'le!"</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Jennie Woodville.</span></p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><a name="THE_IDYL_OF_THE_VAUCLUSE" id="THE_IDYL_OF_THE_VAUCLUSE"></a>THE IDYL OF THE VAUCLUSE.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>A dusky opening in a range of purpling hills; a vision of a cluster of
+small white human homes; a shining, murmuring little river spanned by a
+wooden bridge; a towering background of bald, steep rock, cleft at its
+base into a shadowy cavern,&mdash;such is the first of my memories of the
+Vaucluse. At the entrance of the little town stands a low white-walled
+building, over the door of which is a tablet inscribed thus: "On the
+site of this caf&eacute; Petrarch established his study. Here he wrote the
+lines&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O soave contrada, O puro fiume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Che bagni 'l suo bel viso e gli occhi chiari."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>On the banks of the classic Sorgue I was offered the photographs of
+Petrarch and Laura. I took them, and there, with the sweet May sunlight
+flooding all the sod, with the fresh spring grass and buds bursting into
+life beneath my feet, with the murmur of the glad young river in my
+ears, I stood and gazed upon the faces of those lovers of five hundred
+years ago, whose love was as a spring-time idyl. For they met in the
+spring, they parted in the spring, their intercourse was like the
+mingling of young winds with woodland violets; and, dust and ashes
+though they have been for centuries, they still prefigure to our hearts
+the eternal spring-time of the world.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, could the picture that I held in my hand be a faithful
+reproduction of the famous portrait of Laura which was painted at the
+request of Petrarch by Simon Menimi and charmed him into verse with its
+loveliness? It represented simply the head and bust. The face was
+elongated, the cheeks hollow, the hair smoothed down below the ears. The
+long, oval, half-shut eyes wore a horrible leer, as though the owner
+were making a painful effort to close them. On the head was a stiff,
+ungainly jewelled helmet, which terminated low on the forehead in a
+triangular ornament. The long, slender throat was encircled by three
+rows of pearls. The dress was cut squarely across the neck, and was
+checkered off like a draught-board, while over one shoulder was thrown a
+small lace scarf. The whole expression of the figure was that of
+serious, earnest sobriety and saintliness, as understood by a medi&aelig;val
+painter and treated according to his conception of his art, which
+recognized no difference between a man's earthly love and his spiritual
+patron, and made them equally crude, righteous, quaint and angular.</p>
+
+<p>But I felt that these harsh distorted outlines had naught in common with
+Petrarch's Laura. For she had golden hair that floated loose in the
+breeze and was the prison of enchained and captive Love, and she had
+roses, red and white, upon her face, and a throat of snowy purity, and a
+smile of such rare gentleness that when she passed them by men said,
+"Sure this is an angel come from heaven!" That is the Laura who for
+centuries has beamed upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>humanity&mdash;a sweet, benign, refreshing
+presence&mdash;from within her lover's sonnets. That is the Laura in whose
+reality I believe, but the Laura who lies imprisoned and disguised
+behind the grotesque mask of medi&aelig;val art I cannot, will not, recognize.
+In Petrarch's utterance I find Laura, a pure spiritual shape in mind and
+body and soul; but in her portrait I see only Laura clogged and choked
+and bound about with the trammels of early art and the weight of crude,
+untruthful detail. Thus, I believe that art at its best is but a dull,
+material, mechanical means for the translation or reproduction of
+thought and Nature, and that for the swift, living, electric flame of
+truth we must refer in all ages and climes to speech pure and
+simple&mdash;the speech of the poet.</p>
+
+<p>There are many who doubt that the words in which Petrarch clothed his
+love for Laura were words of sincerity and truth, and who blame his
+fatal tendency to utilize every incident and feeling connected with her.
+Unquestionably, there was a strong element of earthliness, a dilution of
+the pure essence of his affection, in much that Petrarch wrote. It could
+hardly have chanced otherwise with a man into whose life worldly
+intercourse entered so largely. There must have been times when the pure
+light of revelation was hidden from him, and he unknowingly supplied its
+place with fancies of a lower kind. His experiences as he met them one
+by one were, I doubt not, faithfully and sincerely treated, but after
+they had fallen into the past he was enabled to view them by the cold
+strong light of the intellect, and the instincts of his nature led him
+to incorporate them in verse. It has always been a concomitant of the
+poetic character, except perhaps in those lofty organizations whose
+utterances are revelations, to regard its own personality objectively
+and treat it as material for expression in speech. The very
+word-crystallization that a thought or sentiment, however full of
+inspiration, must needs undergo to make it palpable, denotes an amount
+of conscious effort which detracts in a measure from its apparent
+spontaneity. But in spite of the quaint conceits, the frequent play upon
+words, the unworthy tricks of speech, the painful sacrifice to rhyme
+which occasionally mar his verse, I believe Petrarch was sincere. If he
+was only a pretence and a sham, then all the amatory poetry that has
+been written since his time, intellectual or analytic, passionate or
+sensuous, is a pretence and a sham. Petrarch's utterance must needs have
+been founded on truth, else never could it have stood the test of five
+centuries, and never would it have assimilated itself, as it has done,
+with the poetic speech of an entire race. I know of hardly an English
+poet in whose rhymes in the matter of love, and particularly among those
+of a narrower range of thought and a lower plane of vision, one cannot
+trace in a greater or less degree the influence of Petrarch. Thus, to
+me, Petrarch remains the very king of spring-time poets. There are
+summer poets, autumn poets and winter poets, but Petrarch was none of
+these. Neither his passion nor his poetry ever ripened into summer or
+faded into autumn. He will always typify the early youth of love and
+song. I can never open his book of sonnets that I do not hear the rustle
+of young winds in green boughs, and do not catch the faint sweet odor of
+violets and primroses&mdash;the violets and primroses that grow on the banks
+of the Sorgue in the Vaucluse&mdash;the violets and primroses that Laura wore
+in her hair when Petrarch saw her kneeling in the church of Santa Chiara
+in Avignon, and loved her all at once.</p>
+
+<p>The bright little river Sorgue is here a rushing brook, tumbling and
+foaming over the great stones in its bed, and imprisoned between two
+green sloping banks covered with low trees and bushes and tendrils of
+creeping ivy. It finds birth, this merry, roaring brook, in a dark,
+mysterious, shadowy pool, overhung by wild fantastic masses of rock,
+which loses itself far back in a dim cavern beneath the cliffs. Black
+and motionless, sullen and inscrutable, it lies, this source of the
+river Sorgue, a very pool of Lethe, looking as though it knew it drew
+its sustenance from the deepest heart of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> earth, held communication
+with the hidden powers of Nature, and was one at the core with all the
+mighty waters of the creation. What a type of the poet's own
+genius&mdash;nourished deep down under the ground in the universal soul of
+humanity, fed by the elements that centuries of solution have infused
+into the hidden springs of the intellect, one in thought with all the
+great minds that have watered the arid fields of lower human
+intelligence, profound, unsearchable as the earth itself! And yet when
+it rises to the surface of the world it becomes only a sunny, murmuring
+river, which dances along among green banks and bushes; and, being
+noticed by the careless passer-by, who cannot see the deep infinity of
+waters of which it is the symbol, and knows not even whether they exist,
+is termed "a pretty stream of thought and fancy, but one that hath no
+profundity nor seriousness."</p>
+
+<p>Across the river, on a hill just above its banks, a mass of tawny ruin
+fades away into the blue of the sky and the gray of the cliffs. Wild
+flowers grow all about it, dark brambles stretch their wanton arms over
+all its space, and through the clefts in its jagged surface gleam the
+shining walls of the village below and the hazy brightness of the wide
+Rhone country. The people call this bit of rare coloring the castle of
+"La Belle Laure," but we know that it was the home of a great cardinal,
+Petrarch's trusty friend and generous patron.</p>
+
+<p>Down in the valley among the white village walls nestles a low brown
+house surrounded by a humble, sweet-smelling space of flowers. It is a
+dainty little spot of earth, this garden, hallowed by such rare
+associations. It is more precious than rubies, this small dark house,
+for it sheltered from the outer world the body and soul of Petrarch. The
+garden is enclosed by a hedge of sweet pale Provence roses and buds. I
+remembered, as I stood there with the breath of the beautiful blossoms
+creeping up about me, how Petrarch tells that walking one bright May day
+with Laura, a friend and confidant of both approached them and gave to
+each a rose, "all fresh and culled in Paradise," and said, "Such
+another pair of lovers the sun ne'er shone upon," and left them with a
+smile; and they remained all confused and trembling. Yes, I knew
+instinctively that it was here, on this very consecrated spot, that the
+sacred meeting had taken place; that he who gave the roses was no other
+than the good cardinal of the castle; and that those roses of five
+hundred years ago were the ancestors of the roses now blooming about me,
+and plucked from this very hedge. No wonder that the perfumes of
+Paradise are enchaliced in their hearts. Few flowers can boast such high
+and haughty lineage as these, the bright posterity of those transfigured
+love-tokens of centuries past. They are glorified for ever by
+association with the highest, purest phase of human relation. They have
+reached the apotheosis of flowerhood&mdash;the highest destiny vouchsafed to
+aught that grows. They have become one with thought in immortality.</p>
+
+<p>In the heart of the little garden stands a laurel tree, a shoot from
+Petrarch's own sacred laurel tree. More young shoots and saplings are
+springing up about it, all issuing from the great root that lies deep
+underground&mdash;the root of five hundred years ago; and the tree
+overshadows all the garden and the little crystal brook that sparkles
+along by the side of the wall. As I gazed at the stately shape, with its
+shining black berries and its glossy dark leaves, I knew that I had
+found the keynote to much of Petrarch's music&mdash;not always that of his
+best and most inspired moods. The resemblance of the name of Laura to
+the <i>laurel</i>; the antique fable of the transformation of Daphne into a
+laurel, and its adoption by Apollo as his emblem; the old superstition
+that the laurel was shielded against thunderbolts; his desire to win the
+laurel crown as the guerdon of his pains, both amorous and poetic,&mdash;were
+chains of tradition and convention which Petrarch had not strength to
+break, pompous, meaningless hieroglyphics which he felt it his duty to
+interpret to men, hinderances and trammels to the development of his
+genius. The laurel tree of Petrarch's garden is a fair type<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> of one
+phase of the poet's own speech, prone to derive its significance from
+extraneous sources and overloaded with borrowed metaphor. But the laurel
+receives a new meaning if we picture to ourselves Madonna Laura
+reclining in its shadow on the banks of the little river, with flowers
+scattered all about her garments and little Loves disporting in the air
+about her wreathed head. Then it becomes instinct with life and
+vitality, and we wonder why Petrarch deemed it needful to resort to the
+dead and withered husks of antique fable for what lay there at his own
+cottage-door, and waited but to be lifted from the sod&mdash;a wealth of
+poetic illustration and conceit.</p>
+
+<p>Since the day when I made the memory of the Vaucluse my own, I have read
+how a great festival was held there in the summer-tide in honor of
+Petrarch. I have read how they came, those intellectual debauchees, and
+rioted and revelled and wrangled and jarred, and poisoned the chaste,
+calm waters of the sacred river with the hot fumes of literary
+dissension and argument. I have read how they came, with their heads
+full of quotations and their notebooks full of impressions and hints for
+effective rhapsody&mdash;how they feasted on the silver trout of the Sorgue,
+and gathered Laura's roses to adorn their buttonholes, and stripped the
+consecrated laurel of its leaves to make garlands for their own dull
+heads, and poured forth international compliments, and glorified one
+another, and hugged themselves for delight at their fine comprehension
+of the poet, and fell on their knees before him, and immolated their
+individual hearts and souls at the shrine of his genius; and, lo! there
+was not a true appreciater of Petrarch among them all! The right
+appraiser of Petrarch has been there before and since, but he was not
+there then. The noise and the bustle and the wisdom of the multitude
+held him aloof, and he waited until a more convenient season. He comes
+by preference in the spring-time, knowing that then Nature and Petrarch
+sing in unison. He is a poet, because it takes a poet to understand a
+poet, no less than a hero a hero. He is of such simple, foolish mould
+that when he thinks there is no one near to spy him out he casts himself
+down upon the sod and kisses it with all tenderness, and caresses the
+daisies with his finger-tips, greeting them as his younger brethren; for
+there is something stirring in him which draws him nearer to earth's
+heart than other men, and he loves to dwell upon his common origin with
+flower and leaf. He does not fall down and worship Petrarch, because he
+knows that Petrarch is only one expression of the great power that lives
+behind all thought and speech&mdash;one part of the great whole that lies
+spread out before him on the river and the cliff. But he takes the old
+poet by the hand and looks straight into his eyes, and reads there what
+is written in his own heart, and says, "We twain are brethren and
+friends, sovereign and equal, for evermore."</p>
+
+<p>If Petrarch had lived earlier in the centuries of Christianity, he would
+have been a monk. His genius would have found expression in the
+cloister-life, for the first monks were poets and philosophers. But he
+lived at a period when that beautiful principle of asceticism was no
+longer at one with genius. The fine essence of spirituality was gone
+from it, and it had hardened into senseless form and matter; and the law
+of his own mind forbade his pledging himself irrevocably to what in one
+mood seemed highest and most precious, but what another mood might
+contradict and openly defy. He knew that, although that ascetic temper
+which took possession of his soul at times when his genius was loudest,
+most clamorous, most importunate, was the basis of all monastic
+principle, he might not imprison it, fleeting, evanescent, within the
+dungeons of vows and formalism. And to-day, no less than in Petrarch's
+time, the same spirit walks the earth, shines through the actions and
+speech of all high souls, and yet refuses to bind itself to dull
+external shows and symbols.</p>
+
+<p>If Petrarch had not withdrawn himself to the solitude of the Vaucluse, I
+doubt if we should know more of his passion for Laura to-day than could
+be told in a score of sonnets. For with his mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> overloaded by the
+sights and sounds and honors that were heaped upon him, he never could
+have separated her from the contingent circumstances that surrounded
+their intercourse in Avignon. But there, on the banks of the Sorgue, he
+viewed her image from afar, dismissed all the attendant episodes of
+palace and revel, court and council, and beheld only the ideal&mdash;or
+rather the real&mdash;Laura in her own worth and significance. Surely, never
+was there verse through which showed so plainly the Nature under whose
+auspices it was brought forth as those songs of Petrarch. I seem to feel
+that they were written in solitude, not sublime, but pleasing, and in a
+narrow valley shut out from contemplation of aught else. And I know, as
+I leave the Vaucluse behind me, how deep a hold the memory of the loved
+fountain must needs have taken upon the poet's mind, for I too have made
+me a picture of a river, and a grotto, and a shadowy pool, and a low
+brown house, and a stately laurel tree, which will always live in my
+sense. And these things resolve themselves into one with a few scattered
+sonnets, and a shadowy gold-haired form, and a handful of sweet small
+roses, and, lo! I have made incarnate and have bound fast to me for ever
+that beautiful old-time idyl of the Vaucluse.</p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">Charlotte Adams</span>.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h2><a name="A_TARTAR_FIGHT_AT_KAZAN_AND_HOW_IT_WAS_STOPPED" id="A_TARTAR_FIGHT_AT_KAZAN_AND_HOW_IT_WAS_STOPPED"></a>A "TARTAR FIGHT" AT KAZAN, AND HOW IT WAS STOPPED.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>Rooshia? Why, yes, I ought to know something about Rooshia, seein' I've
+lived there, off and on, this fifteen year and more; and if a young man
+was to come to me and ax me where's the best place for a workin' man to
+git on, I'd say to him, jist as I says it to you now, "Go to Rooshia!"
+Why so? says you. Well, jist this way. You see, cotton-mills and
+mowin'-machines and steam-ploughs and sich are quite new ideas out
+there; and they haven't got the trick of workin' 'em properly, not yet;
+so that any man as <i>has</i> got it is pretty safe to git anything he likes
+to ax in the way o' wages. Why, <i>I</i> knowed a man once&mdash;common
+factory-hand he was when he started: couldn't read nor write, nor
+nothin'; but he had his wits about him, all the same,&mdash;well, <i>he</i> cum
+out here 'bout ten year ago, and went to some place on the Volga, with
+some crack-jaw name or other that I can't reck'lect. First year he was
+there he got as good pay as any overseer at home; next year he was
+overseer himself; two year arter that he owned his own mill, he did; and
+now, jist t'other day I gits a letter from him to say he's goin' home
+ag'in, with money in both pockets, and a-goin' to buy a big house and a
+bit o' ground, and I don't know what all. And if <i>that</i> ain't gittin'
+on, I should jist like to know what is!</p>
+
+<p>But you mustn't think, neither, as it's all jist as easy as supping
+porridge: it ain't that, nohow. I can tell yer, if you was to go into
+one o' them hot work-rooms on a roastin' day in July, with the
+thermometer anywhere you like above a hundred, you'd feel more like
+lyin' down in the shade and havin' a drink o' beer than workin' hard for
+nine or ten hours on end. They say we overseers have an easy life of it.
+I wish them as says so had jist got to try it themselves for a day or
+two. Then, ag'in, most likely there's only one road from your place to
+the nearest town, and jist when you want to send off your stuff it'll
+come on pourin' rain for ever so long, and the whole road'll be nothin'
+but plash and mash, like a dish of cabbage-soup; and there the stuff'll
+have to lie idle for weeks and weeks, and you've jist got to grin and
+bear it. And in them parts, instead of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> one good pelt and have done with
+it, it keeps on drip, drip, drip, for days and days in a sneaking
+half-and-half kind o' way, as if it hadn't the pluck to come out with a
+good hearty pour. The very thunder don't make a good round-mouthed peal
+like it does at home, but a nasty jabberin' row, jist as if it was
+a-tryin' to talk French. And, altogether, it is a place to try a chap's
+temper: it is, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Are the native workmen good for much? says you. Well, that depends
+pretty much on how you look at it. When you've once shown 'em how to do
+a thing, they'll do it every bit as well as yourself; but they take a
+powerful deal o' showin', they do. You see, a Rooshan has his own way of
+doin' everything, and tryin' to teach him any other way is as bad as
+eating soup with a one-pronged fork. And then to see how thick some on
+'em are! Why, they may well be brave in battle, for it 'ud take a
+precious clever bullet to git through one of <i>their</i> 'eads, it would.
+Here's one sample for yer: A friend o' mine in Mosker had got a Rooshan
+servant&mdash;one o' them reg'lar <i>Derevenskis</i> ("villagers"), and so one day
+he sends him to the shop with two o' them twenty-kopeck pieces,<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a>
+tellin' him to buy bread with one and butter with t'other. Off goes the
+chap, and never comes back ag'in; so at last his master goes to see
+what's up; and there he finds Mr. Ivan at the door of the shop, holdin'
+out the money in one hand and scratchin' his head with t'other, as if
+he'd forgot his own name, and couldn't find hisself nowhow. "Oh,
+<i>barin</i>" ("master"), says he in a voice like a fit o' chollerer,
+"whatever am I to do now? I've been and <i>mixed</i> the two pieces, and now
+I don't know which was the one for the bread and which for the butter."</p>
+
+<p>As for the Tartars, <i>they're</i> troublesome in another way. They make
+prime workmen&mdash;there's no denyin' it; and I had ought to know, seein' I
+was over a gang of 'em myself for more'n a year&mdash;but they're the
+hot-bloodedest lot as ever I saw yet, and reg'lar born imps for
+fightin'; and when <i>they</i> git up a shindy, look out! I can speak, for I
+saw the big fight betwixt them and the Rooshans at Kazan 'bout three
+year ago; and if you cares to hear the story, I'll tell yer jist how it
+all happened.</p>
+
+<p>You tell me as you've been to Kazan, and so, o' course, you'll remember
+that the "Tartar Town," as they calls it, lies a mile or two east o' the
+reg'lar Rooshan quarter; and midway between 'em's a dry gully
+(leastways, it's dry in the summer-time, but you should jist see it
+arter the spring thaw!), with a little bridge over it. Now, the Rooshan
+gangs and the Tartar gangs, a-comin' from their work, used to cross each
+other jist at this bridge; and o' course there was a good deal o'
+chaffin' among 'em, and some fightin', too, now and then; for I needn't
+tell <i>you</i> that a Rooshan and a Tartar are jist about as fond of each
+other as a Rooshan and a Turk. Now-a-days, the masters have had the
+gumption to change the hours of work, and keep 'em out of each other's
+way; but in <i>my</i> time there was a scrimmage nearly every week, though
+nothin' like this 'un I'm tellin' of.</p>
+
+<p>Well, sir, I'd knocked off early that evenin', and strolled back to my
+place with a young Rooshan merchant as I knowed&mdash;a right good feller,
+name o' Michael Feodoroff. Just at the bridge we stopped to have a look
+at the sunset; and a rare sight it was! There was the dark-red tower of
+the old Tartar gateway standin' out ag'in the bright evenin' sky, and
+the citadel-wall with all its turrets and battlements, and the gilt
+cupolers o' the churches in the town, and the great green plain of the
+Volga away below us, and the broad river itself a-shinin' wherever the
+light fell on it, and the purple hills beyond tipped with gold every
+here and there, jist like them Delectable Mountains as mother used to
+read about on Sundays when I was a boy.</p>
+
+<p>While we were standin' lookin' at it up comes half a dozen Rooshan
+workmen, a-goin' home from their work, and four or five Tartars from
+t'other side, a-goin' home from <i>theirn</i>; and they meets jist on the
+bridge. As they crossed each other one o' the Rooshans pulls a bit o'
+sassage out of his pocket and holds it up to the foremost Tartar (a
+great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> ugly-lookin' bruiser with one eye), and says to him, chaffin'
+like, "Hollo, Mourad! d'ye want a bit o' grease to make yer beard grow?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, I needn't tell <i>you</i> that offerin' pork to a Mussulman is like
+drinkin' Dutch William's health at an Irish fair; and the words warn't
+well out o' the Rooshan's mouth afore the Tartar had him by the throat
+and was bangin' his head ag'in' the bridge-rails as if he was drivin' a
+nail with it.</p>
+
+<p>Then, all in one minute, a whole crowd of 'em seemed to start up out o'
+the werry earth, and we found ourselves right in the middle of a reg'lar
+tearin' fight&mdash;tossin' arms and fierce faces whirlin' all round us; men
+strikin' and grapplin' and clawin' like fury; the broad, bearded faces
+of the Rooshans and the flat sallow mugs of the Tartars all blurred up
+together; and sich a yellin' and cursin' and screechin' a-goin' on that
+I a'most thought myself one o' them old Roman hemperors a-lookin' on at
+a wild-beast fight in the Call-and-see-'em.</p>
+
+<p>I was so took aback that I jist stood and stared like a fool; but
+Feodoroff had his wits about him, and dragged me into a corner where we
+could see it all without bein' swep' in. I saw d'reckly that it was more
+than a plain bout o' fisticuffs, for several of the Rooshans had got out
+their knives, and were slashin' about like one o'clock; and the Tartars,
+on their side, had begun to tear out the rails o' the palisade and to
+crack the skulls of the Rooshans with them. Just then Ivan Martchenkoff,
+one o' my best men, came tumblin' down at my feet with half a dozen
+Tartars atop of him; and as he fell he caught sight of me, and cried to
+me for help.</p>
+
+<p>Well, <i>that</i> was more'n I could stand. I busted loose from Feodoroff
+(who tried to hold me), and leapt right among 'em. I cotched the
+uppermost Tartar by the scruff o' the neck, and chucked him away like a
+kitten; and the second I hit sich a dollop behind the ear as made him
+look five ways at once; but just then two o' the rips jumped upon me
+from behind, and down I went. Then Feodoroff flew in to save me, but the
+crowd closed upon him, and down <i>he</i> went too; and I thought 'twas all
+up with us both.</p>
+
+<p>Jist then I heerd a rumble of wheels up the slope leadin' to the bridge,
+and then a great shout of "<i>Soldati! soldati!</i>" ("The soldiers! the
+soldiers!").</p>
+
+<p>Then I lay close to the ground and made myself as small as I could, for
+I knowed that if they fired into sich a crowd with cannon it 'ud just
+mow 'em down like grass. The next minute I heerd an orficer's voice
+singin' out, "Halt! front! fire!" But instead of the bang of a cannon
+there cum a hiss like fifty tea-kettles a-bilin' over, and then a great
+splash, and the crowd scattered fifty ways at once; and I found myself
+wringin' wet all in a minute. Then somebody gripped hold o' me and
+pulled me up, and there was Feodoroff, and beside him Lieutenant
+Berezinski of the garrison laughin' fit to burst. And when I looked
+round the whole place was a puddle o' water, with dozens of men rollin'
+in it like flies in treacle; and at the end of the bridge was ten or
+twelve sogers, and right in front of 'em a great steam <i>fire-engine</i>!
+Then I understood it all, and began laughin' as loud as anybody.</p>
+
+<p>"You've cooled their courage this time, Mr. Lieutenant," says I.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I have," says the lieutenant; "and that, too, without wasting a
+cartridge or killing a man. When you go home to England, Yakov
+Ivanovitch (James son of John), you can say that if you haven't stood
+fire, you've stood water, and been at the battle of Voyevoda."<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p>
+
+<p class='right'><span class="smcap">David Ker</span>.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'><hr style="width: 65%;" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP" id="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP"></a>OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>THE COLORED CREOLES OF BALTIMORE.</h3>
+
+<p>It is well known that many French families, fugitives from St. Domingo,
+took refuge in Baltimore during the last decade of the eighteenth
+century. They gracefully and gratefully accepted favors and kindness of
+various kinds, but they were too proud and self-reliant to resign
+themselves to eat the bread of charity or lead lives of indolence. Some,
+born to fortune and ancient titles, employed their talents and
+accomplishments promptly and without hesitation. Counts and marquises
+became gardeners (introducing a great variety of fruits and vegetables
+unknown before in the United States), dancing-masters, music-teachers,
+drawing-masters, architects, chemists, confectioners, cigar-makers and
+teachers of their own beautiful language. The names of many of those
+<i>&eacute;migr&eacute;s</i> are now borne by the most estimable citizens of the community
+which first sheltered their ancestors: they are ornaments of society,
+distinguished in the professions and skilled in the arts and sciences.</p>
+
+<p>But it is not of this high and noble class that I desired to speak: it
+is of a more humble but not less worthy set of French people who came
+here at the same time. I allude to the colored creoles who were the born
+slaves of these ladies and gentlemen. Some shared the dangers of their
+flight from St. Domingo: others found a way, by tedious voyages, to join
+their old masters and tender their services, not as slaves, but as
+honest, humble, faithful servants. It was honorable both to master and
+slave that such cordial relations should have existed under such trying
+circumstances. Some of the creoles were good cooks, bakers,
+snuff-makers, laundry-women, etc.; and the most beautiful and touching
+part of this relation between the master and their former slaves was
+that hundreds of the latter laid the profits of their labor at the feet
+of their white friends with reverence and devotion. Many old ladies and
+gentlemen, accustomed to every attention from the best trained servants,
+were altogether incapable of helping themselves, and were dependent on
+the bounty and tender care of their former slaves. Most of the better
+class of French <i>&eacute;migr&eacute;s</i> retained all their former habits of domestic
+life, such as taking a cup of coffee before rising in the morning and an
+eleven-o'clock <i>d&eacute;jeuner &agrave; la fourchette</i>, while those who could afford
+it had a modest <i>petit souper</i> at nine o'clock in the evening. At the
+latter were often found the &eacute;lite of this French society. Music, dancing
+and refined conversation were indulged in for two or three hours: old
+memories and stirring events were recalled and the bonds of nationality
+and family affection were more closely knit. French only was spoken at
+these soir&eacute;es, and the elegant manners of the old school were observed
+in perfection.</p>
+
+<p>The most remarkable of this set was a Madame Valanbrun, the widow of a
+gentleman of large fortune and high position in St. Domingo. He died
+before the Revolution. She was only twenty-five when the massacre took
+place, beautiful, accomplished and fascinating. Her estates were
+extensive, and she lived in one of the principal cities of the island.
+At the time of the outbreak she escaped to a Baltimore vessel,
+accompanied by several of her house-servants, and saved a part of her
+fortune&mdash;plate, jewels and some gold coin. Arriving in Baltimore, she
+found several of her friends already there. With the elastic temper
+peculiar to the French, she determined to make the best of her changed
+circumstances. Having purchased a large house in a cheap part of the
+city, she fitted up her own suite of rooms on the second floor. Here she
+received company, and was attended by her servants as if she had been a
+queen. At that period snuff-taking was very fashionable and almost
+universal. Some of madame's servants<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> were very expert in making snuff,
+cigars and cigarettes: these articles they sold at high prices, for they
+soon became well known. Others of her servants made confections, cakes,
+sweetmeats, which they carried around in baskets: some made dresses, and
+others went out as nurses. The arrangements for all these various
+employments were made by the servants themselves, but the profits were
+carefully reserved for the queen bee of the hive.</p>
+
+<p>For many years Madame Valanbrun was the centre of the French society of
+Baltimore. She had few acquaintances outside of this circle, but the
+most distinguished foreigners who visited the city&mdash;French, Spanish and
+Italian&mdash;and several young Americans ambitious to become better
+acquainted with the French language, were glad to have the entr&eacute;e of her
+salon.</p>
+
+<p>Time wore on. The Bourbons were restored to the throne, and many French
+families returned to France to seek their lost fortunes. Some were
+successful, but most of them were doomed to disappointment and continued
+poverty. Madame Valanbrun remained contented with her humble but
+comfortable lot. By degrees her corps of servants was reduced by death,
+a new race of competitors sprang up, and her income each year grew less
+and less.</p>
+
+<p>In 1832, when the Asiatic cholera fell upon Baltimore like an Alpine
+avalanche upon a quiet Italian village, the colored creoles suffered
+more, relatively, than any other portion of the population, probably
+because they lived in the more confined streets in the centre of the
+city. The venerable physician who furnished most of the particulars for
+this sketch said: "I was passing through a narrow and rather dirty
+street one day during the height of the cholera, when I met Dr. B&mdash;&mdash;,
+who asked me whether I did not know Madame Valanbrun: if so, would I go
+with him to see her in one of the houses near? He had been there a few
+hours before, and thought she had a severe attack of cholera. We went,
+and found the venerable old lady <i>in articulo mortis</i>. She was much
+changed, and the surroundings indicated an equally great change in her
+circumstances which it was melancholy to witness. But one feature
+redeemed all that was disgusting in the picture: round the squalid bed
+five or six old negroes, men and women, knelt in deep devotion like
+fixed statues, offering up their prayers to the Throne of grace for the
+departing soul of their beloved mistress, whose life had been so
+chequered by the sunshine of pleasure and the clouds of adversity. She
+had just received the last rites of the Church. The priest had retired
+to perform similar duties elsewhere, leaving the humble but devoted
+blacks to watch the last breath of life and to close the eyes of their
+lifelong friend and mistress. I never felt more veneration at the
+deathbed of any of my own kindred, or deeper respect for mourners than I
+then felt for those faithful servants of Madame Valanbrun. The old lady
+died that evening. She devised the small remnant of her property to be
+divided among her old servants in common.</p>
+
+<p>"Among these colored Creoles were some remarkable women. Well do I
+remember Suzette, Fanny, Clementine, as faithful watchers at sick beds:
+many precious lives did they save by their skill, judgment and fidelity.
+They were not <i>eye</i>-servants, working for money only: they worked from
+the purest motives of benevolence, from the sentiment of Christian
+charity.</p>
+
+<p>"Another instance of fidelity came under my notice when I was a student
+of medicine in 1819. I boarded at a good old Frenchman's, whose few
+domestics were French creoles. One of these was the washerwoman. When
+quite young she had left St. Domingo with her old mistress, who had been
+kind to her in the days of prosperity on the island. The old lady
+managed to save a small portion of her wealth, and lived quietly with
+her former servant, now her faithful friend. Madame Curchon, as she grew
+older, required more comforts than her slender means could afford, and
+Lizette determined to take in washing. She soon obtained as much as she
+could attend to, and spent her earnings in making madame comfortable in
+her old age.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"About this time appeared a fine-looking negro sailor from St. Domingo.
+He had heard that Lizette, his former sweetheart, was alone in
+Baltimore, and he came in search of her. He found her. She welcomed him
+joyously, with her affection for him unchanged. He told her he would
+marry her at once and take her back to the West Indies. Lizette
+explained to her lover that she considered herself bound in honor to her
+old mistress, though no longer her slave, adding that if he would give
+her five hundred dollars to leave with Madame Curchon her conscience
+would be free of all charge of ingratitude, and she would follow him to
+any part of the world. He said he would not pay a dollar for her, as she
+was a free woman and had worked for the old lady long enough.</p>
+
+<p>"This little love-story came to the knowledge of the boarders through
+our kind-hearted landlady, and they agreed to subscribe one hundred
+dollars toward the payment of the amount fixed on by Lizette: the old
+mistress knew nothing of this romance in low life. Some weeks passed:
+the man remained stubborn in his idea of right, and she in her
+conscientious sense of what was due to her dear old mistress. Lizette
+positively refused to abandon madame to an old age of poverty. Her lover
+finally returned to the West Indies without her. Whatever disappointment
+the faithful creole may have suffered, she remained true to her trust,
+and was for many years the comfort and companion of this poor old French
+lady."</p>
+
+<p>Another instance of creole gratitude and fidelity is worth recording. A
+lady who had enjoyed wealth and luxury at home escaped the massacre, but
+arrived in America entirely destitute. Her feeble health required
+constant care and delicate food. She was accompanied in her flight by
+her faithful servant Fanny, who devoted herself to the care and comfort
+of her former mistress. Fanny rented a small brick house containing five
+rooms&mdash;two chambers, two rooms below and a kitchen. In the upper rooms
+she made her dear old godmother as comfortable as any lady could be, and
+when her duties called her elsewhere she placed another in attendance
+there. The constant piety of this excellent creole was an edifying
+sight. Fanny still lives, but her dear friend is no more: she believes
+firmly that they will again be united, to part no more.</p>
+
+<p>One fact connected with these colored Creoles is worthy of mention.
+Although they have been living in this country for more than
+three-quarters of a century, they have never united themselves, as
+social beings, with any of our American negroes. They have treated them
+with kindness and politeness, helped them in poverty and visited them in
+sickness, but have never intermarried with them, never gone to their
+churches, never joined any of the various African societies so
+conspicuous on certain days of parade. Distinguished for their honesty,
+they have seldom appeared in the courts either as plaintiffs or
+defendants. Respected by all, they have never demanded social equality.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely a dozen of the colored creoles who originally emigrated from
+St. Domingo are now alive, but their descendants are numerous. They form
+a very worthy part of the community in which they live. They retain many
+of the traditionary qualities of their ancestors, and among the
+shiftless, dependent and often destitute negroes around them they are
+conspicuous for their industry, integrity and morality.</p>
+
+<p class='right'>E.L.D.</p>
+
+
+<h3>GLIMPSES OF BRUSSELS.</h3>
+
+<p>To leave Paris for Brussels is to exchange excitement for tranquillity,
+a crowd for a few, the oppressive newness and vivacity of to-day for a
+mild animation tempered with a flavor of bygone ages. Brussels has been
+called a miniature Paris. I should rather consider her as the younger
+sister of the great city&mdash;less beautiful, less decked out, less
+accomplished, less versed in the ways of the world, yet keeping a
+certain freshness and virginity of aspect that is lacking in her more
+brilliant elder.</p>
+
+<p>There is one thing that a foreign resident of Paris is apt to find very
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>enjoyable in Brussels, and that is the absence of the eternal crowd
+that mars for many people a full enjoyment of the pleasant places of
+Paris. Her thronging millions overwhelm you on every festive day or
+joyous occasion. Any little outside show or attraction calls together in
+some restricted space the population of a small city. Thirty thousand
+people rushed to hear the Spanish students play on the guitar in the
+garden of the Tuileries. Twenty thousand go every Sunday to the Salon
+during the period that it remains open. One hundred thousand go out to
+the races on ordinary days, and twice that number attend the Grand Prix.
+Hence comes a famine of conveyances and of seats, and a plethora of
+companions that are far from being uniformly agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>In Brussels one has enough of human surroundings. There is no lack of
+companionship in her gardens, her galleries, her streets and her parks.
+She is not a solitude, as are some of the dead cities of Italy and
+Germany or some of the minor provincial towns in Belgium and France. The
+influence of her three hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants is very
+comfortably apparent. But where Paris pours forth her tens of thousands,
+Brussels sends out some hundreds. Hence there is always room and to
+spare. And she is well-to-do in the world, is this pretty capital of
+Belgium. She is growing and thriving, and wears every mark of an active
+and contented prosperity. New and handsome streets meet the view on
+every side. Foremost among these is the elegant Avenue Louise, named
+after the late queen of the Belgians, which leads out to the spacious
+and lovely Bois de la Cambre, a second Bois de Boulogne, omitting the
+traces of the siege. The Avenue Louise reminds me very much of South
+Broad street in Philadelphia. It forms an almost unbroken row of elegant
+private residences, extending for full two miles to the very gate of the
+Bois. The centre of the roadway is macadamized and bordered with rows of
+trees, thus forming a charming road to the Bois for the private
+carriages of the Belgian aristocracy.</p>
+
+<p>The royal family of Belgium appear but little in public. A series of
+family misfortunes, combined with the ill-health of the king, has
+induced them to live in comparative retirement. Of the children of the
+late king Leopold, but three survive, the present king, the Count de
+Flandres and the luckless empress Charlotte. The last, still sunk in a
+state of hopeless insanity, inhabits the Ch&acirc;teau de Tervueren. The king,
+with his wife and family, passes most of his time at the Ch&acirc;teau de
+Laeken. He is a great sufferer from a disease which has attacked one of
+his legs. The queen, an Austrian archduchess, was formerly one of the
+most beautiful princesses of Europe, but she has never regained either
+her health or her spirits since the death of her only son some years
+ago, and looks faded and careworn. On the king's death the crown will
+pass to his only brother, the Count de Flandres. This gentleman, whose
+wife, a beautiful and spirited lady, is a princess of the house of
+Hohenzollern, is as deaf as a post. He inhabits a very handsome palace
+in the heart of Brussels, and his own sleeping apartments are on the
+ground floor. One summer night the sentinel in charge was amazed to see
+a crowd gathered in front of the windows of the count's room, and
+evidently highly amused. On approaching it was discovered that the
+attendants had failed to close the outside shutters, and had drawn the
+lace curtains merely. The room was brilliantly lighted, and of course
+every part of it was distinctly visible from without. And there,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dans le simple appareil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">D'une beaut&eacute; qu'on vient d'arracher au sommeil,<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>the heir to the Belgian throne was peacefully walking to and fro in a
+brown study, unconscious that the eyes of some hundreds of his future
+subjects were fixed upon his lightly-draped form. His deafness prevented
+him from hearing the noise outside the window, and rendered all warnings
+by means of sounds ineffectual. So the prince's chamberlain was aroused,
+and after some delay His Royal Highness was released from his very
+undignified position.</p>
+
+<p>Among the proprietors of the new <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>buildings of Brussels is cited the
+empress Eug&eacute;nie. Whole rows of newly-erected and handsome shops were
+pointed out to me as being her property. A very strong sympathy for the
+dethroned imperial family seemed to be prevalent in Brussels, as well as
+an equally strong dislike to the Germans. I was amused to find that two
+animals in the Zoological Garden, a very cross monkey and a
+savage-looking African boar, both bore the name of Bismarck.</p>
+
+<p>This Zoological Garden, by the by, is unworthy of the beautiful city to
+which it belongs. It is small, shabby and ill-kept, contains very few
+animals, and has become a sort of beer-garden, with open-air concerts
+and a skating-rink for its chief attractions. A very large and beautiful
+aquarium, a vast grotto of artificial rock-work, is really worth seeing,
+but its contents are of the most commonplace kind.</p>
+
+<p>The picture-gallery&mdash;or Mus&eacute;e Royal, as it is called&mdash;has recently been
+rearranged, and the modern paintings that used to be on view in the
+ducal palace are now installed in a series of new and
+beautifully-decorated rooms. Thither have also been removed a number of
+pictures by contemporary Belgian painters that used to adorn the public
+buildings of Brussels. Chief among these is Gallait's noble picture of
+the <i>Abdication of Charles V</i>. This fine work, considered by some
+critics as the masterpiece of the great Belgian artist, is worthy of the
+pencil of Delaroche. Nor is it in style unlike the best productions of
+that master, recalling the <i>Death of Elizabeth</i> by its admirable
+grouping and refinement of color. Verboeckhoven is seen here at his
+best, his <i>Flock of Sheep in a Storm</i>, a large and carefully-finished
+work, being replete with all the most striking characteristics of his
+genius. Madou's <i>Interrupted Ball</i> is a brilliant and vivacious
+representation of a village festival troubled by the intrusion of a
+group of dandies of the Directory&mdash;gay Incroyables who chuck the country
+damsels under the chin, rouse their swains to jealous wrath and
+otherwise misconduct themselves. Rohbe's pictures of still life are
+perfect feasts of coloring, warm, rich and glowing as the heart of a
+crimson rose brimming with the sunshine and sweetness of a summer's day.</p>
+
+<p>The Mus&eacute;e itself is a noble building, and in point of arrangement and of
+decoration forms a contrast to the dreary halls of the Luxembourg. The
+gallery devoted to the old masters contains some valuable specimens of
+early Flemish art, and some extremely interesting historical portraits,
+the gem of the collection being a wonderfully fine portrait by Holbein
+of Sir Thomas More.</p>
+
+<p>But the most interesting point in all Brussels is the H&ocirc;tel de Ville.
+That marvellous edifice, that looks as though it ought to be preserved
+in a velvet-lined case, so delicate and elaborate are its multitudinous
+sculptures, lifts the exquisite tracery of its spire against the summer
+sky, as perfect in its beauty as when Alva and Egmont and Orange passed
+beneath its shadow ages ago. No spot in Europe, save perhaps the Tower
+of London, is more haunted by historic memories than is this perfect
+marvel of architectural beauty. The centuries roll back as we stand
+beneath its shadow. There is a stain of blood upon the stones, and
+Philip of Spain rides by, and the duke of Alva comes through yonder
+doorway, and the air is full of thronging phantoms and of cries&mdash;the
+wail of the Netherlands beneath the sword of the oppressor.</p>
+
+<p>Around the H&ocirc;tel de Ville are grouped a series of antique buildings, the
+one more exquisite than the other&mdash;the ancient halls of the corporations
+of Brussels, among which that of the brewers shows supreme by reason of
+the luxury of its carvings and the care wherewith its beauty and
+solidity have been maintained throughout the centuries. In one of the
+simplest houses of the square Victor Hugo first took refuge after the
+great catastrophe of the <i>coup d'&eacute;tat</i>. It bore the number 27. A
+tobacco-shop occupied the ground floor. The poet's parlor was furnished
+in a style of bald simplicity, with chairs and a sofa covered with black
+haircloth. But he was wont to say, pointing to the H&ocirc;tel de Ville,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> "I
+have the most wonderful piece of carving in the world for a sideboard."
+In this modest abode he wrote <i>Napol&eacute;on le Petit</i>. Then, stirred by the
+historic memories around him, he chose the Inquisition itself for a
+subject, and planned his as yet unpublished tragedy of <i>Torquemada</i>. The
+dwelling in the Grande Place became the haunt of all the proscribed
+republicans of France. Yet Belgium gave them but a cold welcome and
+grudging hospitality. They were subjected to a series of humiliating
+formalities, chief among which was the requirement of the authorities
+that each should provide himself with a permit of residence. These
+permits were temporary and revocable, and their holders were obliged to
+go weekly to ask for their renewal at the central police-office. It is
+not surprising, therefore, that so few of the fugitives should have
+remained in Belgium. Seven thousand took refuge there after the coup
+d'&eacute;tat, but only two hundred and fifty took up their abode on Belgian
+soil. Yet Brussels remained, in some sense, the continental
+head-quarters of Victor Hugo, though never kindly or generous in her
+treatment of the great exile. In 1871, the rumor having gone abroad that
+he had offered shelter to some of the fugitive Communists, his house was
+attacked by an armed mob, and its inmates barely escaped with their
+lives.</p>
+
+<p>Brussels possesses among her other sights a curiosity with which she
+could very well dispense&mdash;namely, the Wiertz Gallery. It is a collection
+of horrors depicted on a colossal scale by a man whose powers of
+painting were scarcely equal to those of a respectable scene-painter. A
+series of nightmares, expressed with a sort of epileptic violence and
+without any artistic value, clothe the walls of the immense studio with
+gigantic abominations. There is neither originality of conception nor
+intelligence of execution to redeem their hideousness: their horror is
+of the simplest bugaboo kind. A man blowing his head to pieces with a
+pistol-shot; a supposed corpse coming to life in its coffin; the First
+Napoleon in the flames of hell, with a multitude of women shaking at
+him the bloody severed limbs of their sons and husbands; a child burned
+alive in its cradle; the head of a decapitated criminal, and the visions
+that filled its brain,&mdash;such are some of the ghastly imaginings of this
+diseased and uneducated nature. Compare such works as these with Dor&eacute;'s
+crudest conceptions, and the difference between the inventions of genius
+and those of a morbid intellect becomes at once apparent.</p>
+
+<p class='right'>L.H.H.</p>
+
+
+<h3>AN OFF YEAR.</h3>
+
+<p>It is a great luxury to find ourselves and the country in the midst of
+what Marshal MacMahon might style a <i>quadrennate</i>, and to be at the
+neutral and central point from which a much-vexed people can look both
+ways for a Presidential election. The contest of two years ago is over,
+and that of two years hence not near enough to beget mentionable worry.
+This equator of partisanship, lying midway between the two polls, is a
+happy medium of repose. The trade-winds of party passion blow from both
+sides fiercely toward it, but fail to break its calm. The average
+American&mdash;even the average professional American politician&mdash;possesses
+his soul in patience. He looks forward to no revolution, and, when he
+thinks of the matter at all, is entirely certain that the night of the
+first Tuesday in November, 1880, will bring nothing more tremendous than
+the usual hubbub among the telegraph-operators, the reporters and the
+haunters of the clubs and leagues. He doubts the due abnormal succession
+of the Presidents as little as he does that of the British kings, and a
+great deal less than he does that of some of the continental monarchs,
+to say nothing of the French ruler, whose septennate happens also to be
+within about two years of its close.</p>
+
+<p>So pleasant it is to be at leisure to bestow attention on life, liberty
+and the pursuit of happiness, without thought of the usually engrossing
+machinery so painfully and minutely contrived for facilitating our
+advance to those ends! To forget the means and for once look at the
+object; to ignore the strife for free <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>government, and be placidly and
+contentedly free; to shut our eyes on eternal vigilance, and realize
+that we have paid that price and have the receipt in our pockets; to
+intermit our nursing of the tree and enjoy the fruit; to feel that life
+in a republic is not necessarily and always "the fever called
+living,"&mdash;such is, for the present interval, our lot. Self-government is
+such very hard work that those engaged in it are entitled to occasional
+holidays. Nature demands it. Whether their stated Sabbath come once in
+four years or once in seven, it must come. No wonder that it is apt to
+prove too welcome and seductive, and that healthy relaxation should grow
+into harmful lethargy, Sunday into "Blue Monday." Examples of that
+result are abundant enough to warn us when we need warning. They have
+chromoed in brilliantly illuminated text, in all the languages and
+alphabets, the maxim about eternal vigilance, and hung it up over our
+council-fires and our domestic hearths. We can only venture, perhaps, to
+half close our eyes and view it sleepily as through cigar-smoke, or turn
+our backs upon it for a little while and go out into a world of other
+cares which takes no note of elections, constitutions, statutes or
+office-holding. The shorter the interval the less should our enjoyment
+of it be marred. Investigations into past elections serve only to
+interfere with it, or to assist the newspapers in interfering with it;
+and newspapers are our daily food or a part of it. Three-fourths of the
+reading-matter in the five or six thousand of them published in the
+Union are filled with politics, although the conductors of them, like
+the rest of us, are aware that politics are temporarily in eclipse. They
+can teach us nothing on that subject, and we want to learn nothing.
+Their occupation as trade-journals devoted to the art and science of
+government is gone. Other periodicals devoted to a specialty, whether
+iron, coal, calico or the Thirty-nine Articles, show judgment and
+compassion on their readers when a "slack" time comes by turning
+miscellaneous and slipping in choice literary tidbits among their
+regular "shop" items. The five thousand should do likewise. If they
+will not wholly exclude politics, they might at least sweep political
+news and disquisitions into a separate corner of the sheet&mdash;say among
+the jokes, base-ball accidents and last year's advertisements.</p>
+
+<p>Could our legislators and their chroniclers only convince themselves
+that they are <i>de trop</i>, that the best they can do just now is to assist
+us in cultivating a transitory oblivion of them and their deeds, and
+that, instead, they are depriving us of the refreshment of our forty
+winks, they would show a correct understanding of the situation. If they
+cannot be altogether silent, they might at least give their noise
+another pitch, and direct it into some humdrum monotone that would not
+jar upon our slumbers. Do their worst, however, they cannot take from us
+the delicious consciousness that it will be two years before another
+Presidential campaign. Panoplied in that reflection, we can stand a good
+deal.</p>
+
+<p>We sometimes think it must have been a vast relief to the Poles when
+partition came and the three powers for good and all put an end to their
+perpetually recurring agony of electing a king. To the masses of the
+people, who were serfs, and had no more the right of suffrage or any
+other attribute of liberty than their cattle, we have no doubt it was
+so. Only by the small minority of privileged and fussy nobles, who went
+armed to the hall of election, ready to silence effectually any
+troublesome minority-man who should undertake to defeat their choice
+with his veto, could the loss of the wonted excitement have been
+seriously felt. That it was a relief to the neighboring nations, whose
+peace was constantly compromised by the recurrence of Poland's stormy
+call for a new king, is certain enough. The change threw a few very
+worthy men out of business&mdash;the Kosciuskos, Pulaskis, Czartoriskis,
+etc.&mdash;but it did away with a much larger number who were standing
+nuisances, and it left the surplus energy of many more to seek more
+legitimate and profitable paths. Of course the fate of the Poles,
+prosperous though their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>country is beyond anything dreamed of in the
+days of its nominal independence, is not enviable to us. It were to be
+wished that they had been cured of the regular&mdash;or irregular&mdash;spasms of
+selecting a chief without losing their national autonomy. What we remark
+is, that the strain of that convulsion was greater than they or their
+neighbors could bear, and that all concerned, with the trifling
+exceptions named, must have breathed freer and deeper when it was put an
+end to.</p>
+
+<p class='right'>E.C.B.</p>
+
+
+<h3>CONJUGAL DISCORDS.</h3>
+
+<p>The weaknesses and follies of woman are a theme on which men, from the
+sage to the clown, have at all times been eloquent. Her natural coquetry
+in dress, her maternal vanity, her devotion to the little elegancies of
+the home, to clean windows and fresh curtains, are inexhaustible sources
+of masculine merriment or abuse. What housekeeper ever complained of an
+aching back or of nervous irritation without being scolded by her "lord"
+for some extra work she had done in beautifying the home? Men never seem
+to learn that women, as a rule, cannot find life endurable in the
+atmosphere of dust and disorder which characterizes bachelor
+housekeeping, and which seldom disturbs the equanimity of the masculine
+mind in the least. Men and women are so different in their tastes and
+ways that there must always be discord and unhappiness in the household
+until the sexes give over trying to change or remodel those tastes and
+ways, and learn to respect them. Men must accept as inevitable the fact
+that women to be happy must have artistic, or at least dainty and cozy,
+environments; and women must learn to preserve their souls in quiet when
+men spill their tobacco and ashes over the carpets and tables, for
+probably no man ever lived who could fill a pipe, even from a wash-tub,
+without scattering the tobacco over the premises.</p>
+
+<p>That the sexes will give over trying to reform each other does not seem
+likely to happen very soon. Indeed, one might be pardoned for believing
+that matrimony is specially adapted to develop all the imperfections
+and meannesses of human character, and that even of those matches that
+are made in heaven the devil arranges all the subsequent conditions.
+There is hardly a pure and innocent delight that unmarried women enjoy
+which they can carry into that blissful world bounded by the
+marriage-ring. One of those delights is that of squandering a little
+money, which is merely the equivalent of man's spending it as he likes,
+without accounting to any one. Few wives can do this and not be
+subjected to the humiliation of hearing the husband say, "My dear, are
+you not a little extravagant? Is all that money gone that I gave you
+last week?"</p>
+
+<p>Men and women seem incapacitated, in the very nature of things, from
+understanding each other. While mutually enamored they meet as upon a
+bridge&mdash;a Bridge of Sighs perhaps: break this, and they are for ever
+separated as by an impassable gulf. Leaving aside entirely the enamored
+state, do men as a rule seek the society of women and prefer it to that
+of men? The thriving clubs, the billiard- and drinking-saloons, and the
+other resorts of men common all over the civilized world, seem very like
+a negative answer to the question. In savage life we know that the sexes
+do not hunt or fish or do any work together. In our modern drawing-rooms
+most men confess themselves "bored." They long to get away to their
+clubs or some other resort of their fellows. When husbands spend their
+evenings at home, if no one happens to call it is not common for them to
+enter into long and exhilarating conversations with their wives. To be
+sure, wives are too often ignorant of the subjects that interest
+intelligent men; still, not more ignorant than before marriage, when the
+one bridge upon which they could meet was unbroken. <i>Then</i> conversation
+never flagged: it was ever new and entrancing. Both talked pure
+nonsense, while having the art of "kissing full sense into empty words."
+On the other hand, it is, I think, quite a defensible proposition,
+despite the inferences to the contrary drawn from the failure of the
+Women's Hotel, that women<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> enjoy conversation with women more than with
+men when there is no possible question of gallantry or flirtation; and,
+finally, that the recognition of the fact that men and women are not by
+nature in sympathetic accord, but only attracted through the law of
+compensation or opposites, will do more than all other things combined
+to make them study each other's natures and to respect sexual biases and
+characteristics, the motive for that study being, of course, the
+consummation of the ideal marriage, where man and woman set themselves
+together "like perfect music unto noble words."</p>
+
+<p class='right'>M.H.</p>
+
+
+<h3>A RUSSIAN GENERAL IN CENTRAL ASIA.</h3>
+
+<p>Afternoon in Tashkent, the burning sun of Central Asia glaring upon the
+dusty streets and countless mud-hovels of the great city; files of
+camels gliding past with their long, noiseless stride, led by gaunt
+brown men in blue robes and white turbans; a deep archway in a high wall
+of baked earth, above which appear the trees of a spacious garden, and
+just within the entrance two tall, wiry, black-eyed Cossacks, in flat
+forage-caps, soiled cotton jackets and red goatskin trousers, leaning
+indolently on their long Berdan rifles.</p>
+
+<p>At my approach, however, the two sentinels start up briskly enough&mdash;as
+well they may, for they are guarding one whom every man in Bokhara would
+give his best horse for a fair chance of murdering. My announcement that
+I am expected by the governor-general is received with evident suspicion
+and a crossing of bayonets to bar my way; but, happily, a passing
+aide-de-camp recognizes me and promptly leads me in.</p>
+
+<p>The clustering trees, through which the sunshine filters in a rich,
+subdued light suggestive of some great cathedral, are deliciously cool
+and shady after the blinding glare outside; but there is life enough in
+the scene, nevertheless. White-frocked soldiers are hurrying to and fro;
+laced jackets, shining epaulettes, clinking spurs and sabres meet us at
+every turn; and in the centre of all, under a huge spreading tree
+planted years before any Russian had set foot in Turkestan, sits a
+towering form whose vast proportions and bold swarthy face seem to dwarf
+every other figure in the group. Twelve years ago, General Kolpakovski
+was a private soldier in the Russian army: to-day he is the commander of
+thirty thousand men and absolute master of a territory as large as the
+States of New York and Pennsylvania together.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine fellow, isn't he?" says my conductor, looking admiringly at the
+stalwart form of his chief. "Did you ever hear of his ride across the
+steppes from here to Kouldja? He started with twelve Tartars, and you
+know what horsemen <i>they</i> are. Well, three of them broke down the first
+day, five more the second, and all the rest on the third; and the
+general got in by himself. Ever since then the Tartars have called him
+'The Chief with the Iron Skin;' and the soldiers go about singing,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Kolpakovski molodetz&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fsadnik Tatarski&mdash;glupetz!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>("Kolpakovski's a fine fellow: the Tartar horseman is a fool.")</p>
+
+<p>"Well done!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, and he did a better thing still two years ago. He was crossing the
+mountains with a Cossack squadron in the heat of summer. Presently up
+comes one fellow: 'Your Excellency, my horse is lame.'&mdash;'Go back,
+then.'&mdash;Another man, seeing that, thought he'd get off the same way; so
+<i>he</i> calls out, 'My horse is lame, Your Excellency.'&mdash;'Get off and lead
+him, then,' says Kolpakovski; and the unfortunate fellow had to tramp up
+hill all day, and tow his horse after him into the bargain, with the
+thermometer ninety-five in the shade."</p>
+
+<p>But just at this moment my name is called, and I go up to the general's
+chair, to receive a cordial handshake, a few words of frank, manly
+kindness, and the passport which is to carry me northward across the
+steppes as far as the border of Siberia.</p>
+
+<p class='right'>D.K.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'><hr style="width: 65%;" /></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY" id="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY"></a>LITERATURE OF THE DAY.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Memoir of William Francis Bartlett. By Francis Winthrop Palfrey. Boston:
+Houghton, Osgood &amp; Co.</p>
+
+<p>The Story of my Life. By the late Colonel Meadows Taylor. Edited by his
+Daughter. With a Preface by Henry Reeve. London: William Blackwood &amp;
+Sons.</p>
+
+<p>We put these two books together, not on account of any similarity in the
+scenes and events, the characters and careers, depicted in them, but
+because each in its way brings under a strong light the qualities on
+which nations rely in seasons of peril and emergency, but of which in
+ordinary times there is only a consciousness as of a latent source of
+strength, the sound and enduring pith beneath many accretions of
+questionable fibre and tenacity. General Bartlett may very well stand
+for a type of the "heroes" produced by our civil war&mdash;men who, neither
+bred to the profession of arms nor inspired by military or political
+ambition, quitting their homes and chosen vocations at the call of their
+country or their State, devoted themselves heart and soul to the duties
+and demands of the hour, distinguished themselves not more by their
+bravery than by their strict attention to discipline, and in seasons of
+discouragement and defeat, of bad generalship or defective organization,
+gave to the respective armies that "staying power," so rare in a citizen
+soldiery, which prolonged the contest until it ended in the sheer
+exhaustion of the weaker party. Conspicuous examples of this class were
+sent forth, perhaps, by every State, and within its borders were often
+regarded with a fonder admiration than the great commanders on whom a
+larger responsibility and more complex duties brought a more anxious and
+less partial scrutiny. Massachusetts, in particular, which could boast
+of no eminent professional soldier and whose "political generals"
+carried off the palm of a disastrous incapacity, turned with especial
+pride to those of her sons who in the camp and in the field were
+recognized as models of zeal, fidelity and gallantry. Of this
+number&mdash;and it was not small&mdash;Bartlett, though one of the youngest, was
+the most distinguished. He showed from the first equal coolness and
+daring in battle, as well as the special faculty of a minute
+disciplinarian. The regiments which he trained and led were among those
+that headed victorious charges and stemmed the torrent of defeat,
+besides presenting a faultless appearance on parade and resisting
+temptations to plunder. He himself was repeatedly disabled by severe
+wounds, and, being captured before Petersburg, passed many of the last
+months of the war in confinement, suffering from a disease which
+permanently injured his system and shortened his life. Yet he survived
+most of the comrades whose careers had opened with a like promise, and
+down to his death, in 1876, was full of enterprise and activity as a
+private citizen, bearing a spotless reputation, and displaying qualities
+which, it seems to have been generally believed, would have found their
+fittest field in some high public position. The story of his life is
+well and modestly told by his friend Colonel Palfrey, and may be
+specially commended to readers capable of being stirred and stimulated
+by memories and examples which have certainly not been dimmed by the
+greater lustre of those of a more recent date.</p>
+
+<p>It would be unfair to expect in such a narrative the rich and varied
+interest that belongs to the autobiography of Meadows Taylor, whose
+career was as eventful and exciting as that of any hero of romance, and
+who has told it with a vividness and graphic power which few writers of
+romance have equalled. "He was one of the last of those," remarks Mr.
+Reeve, "who went out to India as simple adventurers." His boyhood and
+youth were full of precocious adventure and achievement. At the age of
+sixteen he obtained a commission in the military contingent of the
+Nizam. At seventeen he was employed as interpreter on courts-martial,
+and at eighteen was appointed "assistant police superintendent" of a
+district comprising a population of a million of souls. The duties of
+this post "involved not only direct authority over the ordinary
+relations of society, but the active pursuit of bands of Dacoits, Thugs
+and robbers," and occasional military expeditions to reduce some lawless
+chief to obedience. But the most remarkable and laborious years of his
+life were those during which he filled the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> office of "political agent"
+at Shorapoor, administering the affairs of that principality and holding
+the guardianship of the young rajah during a long minority, while cut
+off from intercourse with Europeans and exposed to continual plottings
+and intrigues of native functionaries and court favorites. The skill,
+tact and courage with which he executed the delicate and complicated
+functions of this anomalous position, and encountered its difficulties
+and perils, make themselves felt and appreciated in all the details of
+the narrative, while the picture presented of Eastern character and
+manners is one which only the most intimate knowledge, combined with
+rare faculties of delineation, could furnish, and differs in many
+features from any other to be found in European descriptions of life in
+India. "Meadows Taylor was never, properly speaking, in the civil
+service of the East India Company or the Crown, nor did he hold any
+military appointment in the British Indian army. He was throughout life
+an officer of the Nizam. He never even visited Calcutta or Bengal." He
+was thus thrown out of the main line of advancement, and never attained
+the rank or emoluments that fell to the share of many less gifted
+contemporaries. Hence the peculiarly adventurous character of his career
+and the novelty of the scenes which he depicts. Hence, too, perhaps, the
+width of his attainments, the enlightened spirit he displayed in his
+intercourse with the natives, and his cultivation of his literary powers
+as the main resource of his leisure while isolated from the society of
+his own race. His start in life belonged to a period long antecedent to
+the days of competitive examinations, but his assiduity and desire for
+knowledge needed no stimulant and were the keys to his early success.
+"His perfect acquaintance with the languages of Southern India&mdash;Teloogoo
+and Mahratta, as well as Hindoostanee&mdash;was," we are told, "the
+foundation of his extraordinary influence over the natives of the
+country and of his insight into their motives and character." He taught
+himself land-surveying and engineering, and constructed roads, tanks and
+buildings. He studied geology, botany and antiquities, and applied the
+knowledge thus obtained to practical purposes. He gained an acquaintance
+with the principles of law, Hindoo, Mohammedan and English, that he
+might devise codes and rules of procedure for a country where there were
+no courts or legislation, and where he had to administer justice
+according to his own lights. In the midst of his thousand avocations he
+found time to write a series of novels portraying the manners and
+superstitions of India, and depicting the various epochs of its history,
+with a fidelity and liveliness that have gained for these works a wide
+popularity. Yet perhaps the strongest impression made by this record of
+his life comes from the evidence it affords of his humane and
+conciliatory spirit in his dealings with the native Indians of every
+class, his unselfish devotion to their welfare, his habit of treating
+them as equals and his power of inspiring them with confidence, with the
+result of enabling him to preserve a large and important district from
+participation in the Mutiny, without the aid of troops and against the
+constant pressure and appeals of surrounding populations all in full
+revolt. His autobiography has already gone through several editions in
+England, and we cannot but regret that it has not been republished in
+America, where the interest in the country and events to which it
+relates is of course far less general and intense, but where, we may
+hope, the appreciation of heroic energy and noble achievements is not
+less common. The book is not to be confounded with the class to which
+the lives of governor-generals and military commanders in India belong.
+Arrian complained that the expedition of the Ten Thousand was far more
+famous in his day than the exploits of Alexander; and this narrative of
+what must be considered an episode of the British rule in India is
+likely to hold the attention of most readers more closely than many
+volumes that recount the grander events of that wonderful history.</p>
+
+
+<p>Walks in London. By Augustus J.C. Hare, author of "Walks in Rome," etc.
+New York: George Routledge &amp; Sons.</p>
+
+<p>Not many visitors to London would be likely to take all or half the
+walks described in Mr. Hare's two thick volumes, even if the word
+<i>walks</i> should be so interpreted as to include commoner modes of transit
+between distant points of interest and through interminable
+thoroughfares. In Rome or Venice the tourist may be expected to follow
+religiously the prescriptions of his guide-book: he is there for that
+purpose, he has no other means of employing his time, and he would be
+ashamed to report that he had omitted to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> see or do anything that Jones
+or Smith had seen and done. But a few rapid excursions in a hansom cab
+will enable him to visit all the "sights" that are <i>de rigueur</i> in
+London&mdash;Westminster Abbey and Hall and the Houses of Parliament; the
+Museum, the Zoological and the National Gallery; St. Paul's, Guildhall
+and the Bank and Exchange; the Monument, the Tower and the
+Tunnel,&mdash;after which he may devote himself without scruple to an endless
+round of social amusements, or to "the proper study of mankind" with all
+varieties and countless specimens of the genus collected for his
+inspection. It is only the zealous investigator, primed with the
+associations of English literature from Chaucer to Dickens, who will be
+apt to put himself under Mr. Hare's guidance, and to explore patiently
+the widely-separated districts in which lie scattered and almost hidden
+the relics that attest the identity of London through the ages of growth
+and change that have transformed it from the "Hill Fortress" of Lud or
+the Colonia Augusta of the Romans into the commercial metropolis of the
+world, with a population, circumference and aggregate of wealth
+exceeding those of most of the other European capitals combined. Yet one
+who undertakes this labor with the due amount of knowledge and
+enthusiasm may be sure of finding his reward in it. Though London is the
+supreme embodiment of modern life, with its ceaseless absorption and
+accumulation, it is none the less imbued with a conservative spirit
+which has saved it from the wholesale demolitions and ruthless
+remodellings to which Paris has been subjected. Mr. Hare speaks with
+just indignation of the destruction of Northumberland House at Charing
+Cross, but this has so far been an exceptional instance, though it is
+perhaps an ominous one. The traveller may still step aside from the busy
+Strand into the silent and beautiful Temple Church with its tombs of
+Crusaders, pause as he leaves his banker's in Bishopsgate to take a
+survey of Crosby Hall and Sir Paul Pindar's house with their reminders
+of the financial magnates of a bygone time beautifying their homes in
+the City as visible proclamations of their prosperity, and find, as he
+wanders through Aldgate and Bevis Marks, Wych street, Holborn and
+Lincoln's Inn, Southwark and Lambeth, hundreds of quaint fronts or
+picturesque memorials linked with names and events, epochs and usages,
+that have been familiar to his mind from childhood. But many such
+scenes and objects will escape notice or fail of due appreciation unless
+an informant be at hand qualified to proffer the needed suggestions
+without indulging in wearisome garrulity. Mr. Hare seems to us to meet
+very well the requirements of this office, his book being a happy medium
+between the concise though comprehensive, and for ordinary purposes
+indispensable, manual of Baedeker and the voluminous works of Timbs and
+Cunningham.</p>
+
+<div class='padding'><hr style="width: 65%;" /></div>
+
+<h3><i>Books Received.</i></h3>
+
+<p>Putnam's Art Hand-books. Edited by Susan N. Carter, Principal of the
+"Women's Art-School, Cooper Union." "Landscape Painting" and "Sketching
+from Nature." New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.</p>
+
+<p>Current Discussion: A Collection from the Chief English Essays on
+Questions of the Times. By Edward L. Burlingame. Second volume:
+Questions of Belief. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.</p>
+
+<p>Economic Monographs: France and the United States; Suffrage in Cities;
+Our Revenue System and the Civil Service&mdash;shall they be Reformed? New
+York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.</p>
+
+<p>Off on a Comet: A Journey through Planetary Space. From the French of
+Jules Verne, by Edward Roth. Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen &amp;
+Haffelfinger.</p>
+
+<p>A Year Worth Living: A Story of a Place and of a People one cannot
+afford Not to Know. By William M. Baker. Boston: Lee &amp; Shepard.</p>
+
+<p>The Voyages and Adventures of Vasco da Gama. By George M. Towle. Boston:
+Lee &amp; Shepard.</p>
+
+<p>The Fall of Damascus: An Historical Novel. By Charles Wells Russell.
+Boston: Lee &amp; Shepard.</p>
+
+<p>Adventures of a Consul Abroad. By Samuel Sampleton, Esq. Boston: Lee &amp;
+Shepard.</p>
+
+<p>The Future State (Christian Union Extras). New York: Christian Union
+Print.</p>
+
+<div class='padding'><hr style="width: 65%;" /></div>
+
+<h3><i>New Music Received.</i></h3>
+
+<p>The Broken Ring, and The Young Recruit: Part-songs for Male Voices.
+Composed and arranged by A.H. Rosewig. (Lotus Club Collection.)
+Philadelphia: W.H. Boner &amp; Co.</p>
+
+<p>Strew Sweet Flowers o'er my Grave: Song and Chorus. Words and Music by
+M.C. Vandercook. Arranged by D.H. Straight. Philadelphia: W.H. Boner &amp;
+Co.</p>
+
+<p>Monthly Journal of Music and General Miscellany. Philadelphia: W.H.
+Boner &amp; Co.</p>
+
+<p>Latest and Best Lancers. By Frank Green. Philadelphia: W.H. Boner &amp; Co.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='padding'><hr style="width: 65%;" /></div>
+<h2><a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES"></a>FOOTNOTES:</h2>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, 1807.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Fuller's <i>Worthies</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>Churches of Bristol.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Taylor's <i>Book about Bristol</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <i>The Churchgoer.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> The documents are given in full in the appendix of Dr. J.J.
+Chaponni&egrave;re's memoir in vol. iv. of the <i>M&eacute;m. de la Soc. Arch&eacute;ol. de
+Gen&egrave;ve</i>. The former is signed by Bonivard, apostolic prothonotary and
+<i>poet-laureate</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> The story is told by Bonivard himself in his <i>Chronicles</i>,
+and may be found in full detail in the Second Series of Dr. Merle
+d'Aubign&eacute;'s volumes on the Reformation, vol. i. chaps. viii. and x. The
+story that Pecolat, about to be submitted a second time to the torture,
+and fearing lest he might be again tempted to accuse his friends,
+attempted to cut off his own tongue with a razor, seems to be
+authenticated. The whole story is worthy of being told at full length in
+English, it is so full of generous heroism.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> "Je n'ai vu ni lu oncques un si grand m&eacute;priseur de mort,"
+says Bonivard in his <i>Chronicles</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The text of this act is given by Chaponni&egrave;re, p. 156.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> We have the history of one of them in a brief of Pope
+Clement VII. addressed to the chapter and senate of Geneva, in which he
+expresses his sorrow that in a city which he has carried in his bowels
+so long such high-handed doings should be allowed. One Francis Bonivard
+has not only despoiled the rightful prior of his living, but&mdash;what is
+worse&mdash;has chased his attorney with a gun and shot the horse that he was
+running away upon: "<i>quodque pejus est, Franciscum Tingum ejusdem electi
+procuratorem, negocium restitucionis dicte possessionis prosequentem,
+scloppettis invasisse, et equum super quo fugiebat vulnerasse</i>." His
+Holiness threatens spiritual vengeance, and explains his zeal in the
+case by the fact that the excluded prior is his cousin.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> <i>Advis et Devis des difformes Reformateurz</i>, pp. 149-151.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> It is needful to caution enthusiastic tourists that nearly
+all the details of Byron's poem are fabulous. The two brothers, the
+martyred father, the anguish of the prisoner, were all invented by the
+poet on that rainy day in the tavern at Ouchy. Even the level of the
+dungeon, below the water of the lake, turns out to be a mistake,
+although Bonivard believed it: the floor of the crypt is eight feet
+above high-water mark. As for the thoughts of the prisoner, they seem to
+have been mainly occupied with making Latin and French verses of an
+objectionable sort not adapted for general publication. (See Ls.
+Vulliemin: <i>Chillon, &Eacute;tude historique</i>, Lausanne, 1851.)</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> This touching tribute of conjugal affection is all the
+more honorable to Bonivard from the fact that this wife, like the
+others, had provoked him. Only a few months before he had been compelled
+to appear before the consistory to answer for treating her in a public
+place with profane and abusive language, applying to her some French
+term which is expressed in the record only by abbreviations.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Avolio: <i>Canti Popolari di Noto.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> Guastella: <i>Canti Popolari del Circondario di Modica.</i></p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> D'Ancona: <i>Venti Canti Pop. Siciliani</i>, No. 5.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> An "ounce" equals twelve francs seventy-five centimes.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> Auria: <i>Miscellaneo</i>, MS. <i>segnato</i> 92, A. 28, Bib. Com.
+Palermo.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Pitr&egrave;: <i>Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti Pop. Sicil.,</i> No.
+cxlviii.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Piaggia: <i>Illustrazione di Milazzo</i>, p. 249.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> These gifts are called <i>spinagghi</i> and <i>cubba&igrave;ta</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> Alessi: <i>Notizie della Sicilia</i>, No. 164, MS. QqH. 44, of
+the Bib. Com. of Palermo.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Traina (<i>Vocab. Sicil.</i>) defines <i>macad&agrave;ru</i> as
+nuptial-bed, and cites Pasqualino, who derives the word from the Arabic
+<i>chadar</i>, which signifies "bed," "couch."</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> So called, according to Traina (<i>Vocab. Sicil.</i>), because
+of the frequent occurrence of the notes <i>fa, sol, la</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Buonfiglio e Costanzo: <i>Messin&agrave;, Citt&agrave; Nob&igrave;lissima</i>.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> Pitr&egrave;: <i>Studj di Poesia Pop.,</i> p. 21.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> This may be translated, "Palermo needs a long purse." See
+Pitr&egrave;: <i>Fiabe, Novelle, etc.,</i> No. cclxviii.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> Dante: <i>Div. Com.,</i> <i>Purg.,</i> vi. 84.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> See the <i>Giornale di Sicilia</i>, An. xv., No. 84.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> 20 kopecks = 6-1/2 <i>d.,</i> or 1/5 of a rouble.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> This play upon <i>voda</i> ("water") and <i>voyevod</i> ("a
+general") has no equivalent in English. Perhaps the best rendering would
+be "the battle of <i>Water</i>loo."</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature
+and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878., 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: Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878.
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: August 12, 2006 [EBook #19032]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine D. and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE
+
+OF
+
+_POPULAR LITERATURE AND SCIENCE_.
+
+
+
+JULY, 1878.
+VOLUME XXII.
+
+
+Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, by J.B.
+LIPPINCOTT & Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at
+Washington.
+
+
+HERE AND THERE IN OLD BRISTOL.
+
+
+[Illustration: GRAVE OF HANNAH MORE AT WRINGTON, NEAR BRISTOL.]
+
+The streets of Bristol are, in a modern point of view, narrow and
+uninviting, yet if the visitor have a liking for the picturesque he will
+find much to interest him. There are plenty of streets crammed with
+old-time houses, thrusting out their upper stories beyond the lower, and
+with their many-gabled roofs seeming to heave and rock against the sky.
+If they lack anything in interest, it is that no local Scott has arisen
+to throw over them a glamour of romance which might make more tolerable
+the odors wherein they vie with the Canongate of sweet memory.
+
+[Illustration: CHATTERTON AS DOORKEEPER IN COLSTON'S SCHOOL.]
+
+Nor is the throng which fills the Bristol streets wholly prosaic in its
+aspect, for the quaint garb of ancient charities holds its own against
+the modern tailor. Such troops of charity-children taking their solemn
+walks! Such long lines of boys in corduroy, such streams of girls in pug
+bonnets, stuff gowns and white aprons, as pour forth from the schools
+and almshouses to be found in every quarter of the city! The Colston
+boys are less frequently seen, because the school has been removed to
+one of the suburbs, yet now and then one of their odd figures meets the
+eye. They wear a muffin cap of blue cloth with a yellow band around it
+and a yellow ball on its apex; a blue cloth coat with a long plaited
+skirt; a leathern belt, corduroy knee-breeches and yellow worsted
+stockings. Just such, in outside garb, was Chatterton a century ago, and
+thus he is represented on his monument near Redcliff church.
+
+[Illustration: CHATTERTON CENOTAPH.]
+
+You are perhaps gazing skyward at some lordly campanile when a sudden
+rush of feet and hum of voices comes around the corner, and the dark
+street is all aglow. These are the Red Maids, who walk the earth in
+scarlet gowns, set off by white aprons: they owe the bright hues of
+their existence to Alderman Whitson, who died in 1628, leaving funds to
+the mayor, burgesses and commonalty of the city of Bristol, "to the use
+and intent that they should therewith provide a fit and convenient
+dwelling-house for the abode of one grave, painful and modest woman of
+good life and conversation, and for forty poor women-children (whose
+parents, being freemen and burgesses of the said city, should be
+deceased or decayed); that they should therein admit the said woman and
+forty poor women-children, and cause them to be there kept and
+maintained, and also taught to read English and to sew and do some other
+laudable work toward their maintenance; ... and should cause every one
+of the said children to go and be apparelled in red cloth, and to give
+their attendance on the said woman, to attend and wait before the mayor
+and aldermen, their wives and others their associates, to hear sermons
+on the Sabbath and festival days, and other solemn meetings of the said
+mayor and aldermen and their wives," etc. etc. These maids are admitted
+between the ages of eight and ten, and at eighteen are placed at
+service.
+
+Other aspects of Bristol are brought out in Pope's description of it in
+a letter to Mrs. Martha Blount.[1] After describing his drive from Bath
+and his crossing the bridge into Bristol, he continues: "From thence you
+come to a key along the old wall, with houses on both sides, and in the
+middle of the street, as far as you can see, hundreds of ships, their
+masts as thick as they can stand by one another, which is the oddest and
+most surprising sight imaginable. This street is fuller of them than the
+Thames from London Bridge to Deptford, and at certain times only the
+water rises to carry them out; so that at other times a long street full
+of ships in the middle and houses on both sides looks like a dream." ...
+"The city of Bristol is very unpleasant, and no civilized company in it;
+only, the collector of the customs would have brought me acquainted with
+merchants of whom I hear no great character. The streets are as crowded
+as London, but the best image I can give you of it is, 'tis as if
+Wapping and Southwark were ten times as big, or all their people ran
+into London. Nothing is fine in it but the square, which is larger than
+Grosvenor Square, and well builded, with a very fine brass statue in the
+middle of King William on horseback; and the key, which is full of
+ships, and goes round half the square. The College Green is pretty and
+(like the square) set with trees. There is a cathedral, very neat, and
+nineteen parish churches."
+
+[Illustration: STEEP STREET, NOW PULLED DOWN.]
+
+It is quite as curious to note what Pope omits as what he mentions. He
+is much taken with a commonplace square, and with the mingling of ships
+and houses (which is truly effective), but the modern traveller would
+find the chief beauty of the city in its Gothic architecture, to which
+Pope gives one line--"a cathedral, very neat, and nineteen parish
+churches." Let the visitor ascend any one of the hills which overhang
+Bristol, and a beautiful scene at once bursts upon his view: this is due
+to the pre-eminent beauty of the church-towers, the great stone lilies
+of the fifteenth century soaring above the dingy town; each,
+
+    For holy service built, with high disdain
+    Surveys this lower stage of earthly gain;
+
+and a hard struggle they have to hold their own against the menacing
+chimney-stacks of manufacturing England. All the poetry and aspiration
+of the past seems contending, shoulder to shoulder, in thick air with
+the material interests of the present.
+
+Strolling about through the grimy streets, one's eye is caught by the
+sign "Quakers' Friars," and following up the narrow court to seek the
+meaning of this odd combination of opposing ideas, one comes to the
+Friends' school, occupying the remnant of a former priory of Black
+Friars. It is a spot intimately associated with recollections of the
+early Friends. In 1690 the father of Judge Logan of Pennsylvania was
+master of this school. Adjoining the school is the Friends'
+meeting-house, built in 1669 on what was then an open space near the
+priory, where George Fox often preached; and within the walls of the
+meeting-house this Quaker father took upon himself the state of
+matrimony. A local bard is inspired to sing:
+
+    Many years ago, six hundred or so,
+      The Dominican monks had a praying and eating house
+    Just on the spot where a little square dot
+      On the Bristol map marks the old Quakers' meeting-house.
+
+    A different scene it was once, I ween:
+      No monk is now heard his prayers repeating;
+    And the singers and chaunters and black gallivanters
+      Had never a thought of "a silent meeting."
+
+[Illustration: "TIMES AND MIRROR" PRINTING-OFFICE, NOW PULLED DOWN.]
+
+The streets near by, called Callowhill, Philadelphia and Penn streets,
+recall the residence here of William Penn in 1697, after his marriage
+with Hannah, daughter of Thomas Callowhill and granddaughter of Dennis
+Hollister, prominent merchants of _Bristol_. These streets are believed
+to have been laid out and named by Penn on land belonging to Hollister.
+Another Friend was Richard Champion, the inventor of Bristol china and
+the friend of Burke. Champion's manufactory was not commercially a
+success, but his ware is now highly prized, and some few remaining
+pieces of a tea-service, presented by Mr. and Mrs. Champion to Mrs.
+Burke at the time the latter's husband was returned member for Bristol,
+have brought thrice their weight in gold.
+
+In Castle street, not far from Quakers' Friars, stands a profusely
+ornamented mansion, now St. Peter's Hospital. The eastern portion is of
+considerable antiquity: the western was rebuilt in 1608. In the
+fifteenth century the older portion was the residence of Thomas Norton,
+a famous alchemist, who, according to Fuller, "undid himself and all his
+friends who trusted him with money, living and dying very poor about the
+year 1477."[2] Norton's ill-success was, however, in his own belief, the
+success of others. He declared that a merchant's wife of Bristol had
+stolen from him the _elixir of life_. "Some suspect her" (says Fuller)
+"to have been the wife of William Cannings, contemporary with Norton,
+who started up to so great and sudden wealth--the clearest evidence of
+their conjecture." The person here intended is no other than the great
+Bristol merchant William Canynge the younger, who was five times mayor
+and one of the rebuilders of Redcliff church. His ships, which crowded
+the quays of Bristol, were a more evident source of wealth than any
+cunningly devised elixir except in the eyes of a disappointed dreamer.
+The reflection that in this quaint old house was enacted a history like
+to that of Balthazar Claes lends to it a strange fascination.
+
+The church of St. Mary Redcliff is, as ever, intimately associated with
+the name and genius of Chatterton: no saint in the calendar could have
+shed over it such an interest; and beautiful as it is, "the pride of
+Bristowe and the Westerne Land," how many visit it for its beauty alone?
+This is rather hard for the clericals: they are unwilling to forget that
+Chatterton was an impostor and a suicide; and to have their church
+surrounded by a halo from such a _source_! bah! They have done what they
+could by removing his monument from _consecrated_ ground and depriving
+it of its inscription.
+
+In an old chest left to moulder in a room over the north porch of this
+church Chatterton professed to find the Rowley manuscripts. In this
+room, "here, in the full but fragile enjoyment of his brief and illusory
+existence, he stored the treasure-house of his memory with the thoughts
+that, teeming over his pages, have enrolled his name among the great in
+the land of poetry and song. Happy here, ere his first joyous
+aspirations were repressed--ere the warm and genial emotions of his
+heart were checked--before time had dissipated his idle dreams, and
+neglect, contempt and distress had fastened on his mind, and hurried him
+onward to his untoward destiny."[3]
+
+This church is one of the finest examples of the Perpendicular Gothic:
+it has been carefully restored, the work extending over thirty years.
+The most interesting monuments are those of William Canynge the younger,
+the great Bristol merchant, who lies buried here with his wife, his
+almoner, his brewer, his cook and other servants--a goodly family party:
+the cook is indicated by a knife and skimmer rudely cut upon a flat
+stone. There are two effigies of Canynge--one in his robes as mayor, the
+other in priest's robes; for in his latter years, after the death of his
+wife, he took orders, and died in 1474 dean of Westbury.
+
+[Illustration: MUNIMENT-ROOM, ST. MARY REDCLIFF.]
+
+The memorial of Admiral Sir William Penn, father of the founder of
+Pennsylvania, is a conspicuous object in the nave--a mural tablet
+decorated with his helmet, cuirass, gauntlets, sword, and tattered
+banners taken from the Dutch. Near it--a singular object in a church--is
+the rib of a whale which is believed to date from the year 1497, there
+being an entry in the town records of that year: "Pd. for settynge upp
+ye bone of ye bigge fyshe," etc.;[4] and as Sebastian Cabot had then
+just discovered Newfoundland, it may have been one of the trophies of
+his voyage. But it long had a very different history: its origin being
+forgotten, there grew up a legend that it was the rib of a dun cow of
+gigantic build who gave milk to the whole parish of Redcliff, and whose
+slaughter, by Guy, earl of Warwick, threw all the milkmaids out of
+employment. It was in Redcliff church that both Southey and Coleridge
+were married.
+
+[Illustration: ADMIRAL PENN'S MONUMENT IN ST. MARY REDCLIFF.]
+
+The cathedral, "very neat," as Pope expresses it, would be a great
+treasure in New York, but in England, where Gothic structures so abound,
+it is far surpassed by several in its vicinity. It has suffered much
+from iconoclasts, both those who destroy and those who restore. The
+completion of the nave is now being rapidly pushed forward, and will be
+followed by that of the towers--good evidence that the Gothic revival in
+England has not yet spent its force. In its present condition the
+general effect of the building is disappointing, although there are many
+admirable details. The chapter-house and the archway below the church
+are fine relics of its Norman period. In the choir is the tomb of Bishop
+Butler, author of the _Analogy_, for twelve years bishop of this
+diocese. There is also a tablet to his memory, erected in 1834, with an
+inscription by Southey. Among the monuments one finds two names which
+shine, it may be said, by reflected light--that of Mrs. Draper, Sterne's
+"Eliza," and Lady Hesketh, Cowper's devoted friend and cousin. A bust
+of Southey finds a place here as a tribute of respect in his native
+town; and the name of Sydney Smith comes to mind, who was a prebendary
+of this cathedral.
+
+The city of Bristol, although essentially a manufacturing and commercial
+centre, is not deficient in names which have enjoyed a widespread
+literary reputation. All through the first half of the present century
+Bristol was associated with the colossal fame of Hannah More, but the
+idol is long since forgotten, and now, a little more than forty years
+after her death, many might ask, Who was Hannah More? She was the
+daughter of the schoolmaster at Stapleton, near Bristol, and was born on
+the 2d of February, 1745. She was one of five daughters, who by the
+education received from their father were enabled to set up in Bristol a
+boarding-school for young ladies which had the luck to become
+_fashionable_. Hannah's literary reputation began at the age of
+seventeen with a pastoral drama, the _Search after Happiness_, written
+for, and performed by, the young ladies of the boarding-school. On this
+slender basis she visited London, was so fortunate as to attract the
+attention of Garrick, and was by him introduced into his brilliant
+circle. She must have been at that time both witty and pretty, for Mrs.
+Montagu and the Reynoldses were delighted with her, Dr. Johnson gave her
+pet names, and Horace Walpole called her Saint Hannah. Her next great
+success was her tragedy of _Percy_, in which Garrick sustained the
+principal character, and in which Mrs. Siddons afterward appeared. Later
+on, Mrs. More published some _Sacred Dramas_, but after the death of
+Garrick she abandoned dramatic writing, her views leading her to take up
+what was called, in her day, "strict behavior," of which she now became
+the apostle. On her literary profits she retired to Cowslip Green, near
+Bristol, and later on to Barley Wood, where she was joined by her
+sisters, who were enabled to retire on the handsome profits of their
+school. But neither "strict behavior" nor anything else could weaken
+Hannah's hold on her day and generation: her _Estimate of the Religion
+of the Fashionable World_ went off like hot cakes, and her _Thoughts on
+the Manners of the Great_ were scrambled for by both great and
+small--seven large editions in a few months, the second in a week, the
+third in _four hours_! How many people now-a-days have read _Coelebs_,
+of which twelve editions were printed in the first year, and in all
+thirty thousand copies of disposed of in America alone? _Corinne_
+appeared when Lucilla, the heroine of _Coelebs_, was at the height of
+her popularity, and much animated comparison was instituted between
+Corinne and the rival she has long survived.
+
+[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL]
+
+The first opposition which Hannah More encountered arose from her
+efforts to improve the condition of the poor in her neighborhood by
+education and the formation of benefit societies. The impulse to this
+movement came from Mr. Wilberforce, who, being on a visit at Barley
+Wood, was taken on an excursion to Cheddar Cliffs, then, as now, one of
+the "sights" of the vicinity. Mr. Wilberforce, while admiring the
+scenery, chanced to fall into conversation with one of the inhabitants,
+and learned, to his dismay, that the whole beautiful region was sunk in
+ignorance and vice. This discovery was discussed in full conclave on
+their return to Barley Wood, and Mrs. More undertook to have a school
+opened in Cheddar. The school proved a success, and by the aid of the
+subscriptions which her name brought from far and near she eventually
+extended the system over nine of the neighboring parishes, sunk in the
+barbarism of English village-life of that day, of which Cowper's village
+of Olney was an example. But this work did not go on as smoothly as the
+sale of _Coelebs_: it at once aroused opposition from the large class
+who do not like to see old ruts abandoned, and was branded as
+_Methodism_--an epithet that was then freely used as an extinguisher for
+anything novel, and was a "bugaboo" of whose terrors we can have in this
+day little conception. Hannah was accused of endeavoring to spread
+toleration, and a favorite charge against her was that she had partaken
+of "bread and wine in a meeting-house." In vain her sister Martha
+explained that she sinned in good company, for many "High-Church people
+did the same, and one gentleman and lady with ten thousand pounds a
+year, who have always the Church prayers performed morning and evening
+in their family." Although the bishop excused her, it was determined
+that Hannah was to be crushed by a review; but all was of no more avail
+than in the case of Miss Martineau, which has been recently recalled by
+her autobiography. Hannah survived it all, and stuck through thick and
+thin to her triumphant schools and her "strict behavior." A less harmful
+shaft was hurled by a Bristol wit on an occasion when her clothes took
+fire and she was saved by the stout quality of her gown:
+
+    Vulcan to scorch thy gown in vain essays:
+    Apollo strives in vain to fire thy lays.
+    Hannah! the cause is visible enough:
+    Stuff is thy raiment, and thy writings--_stuff_.
+
+[Illustration: BARLEY WOOD, HANNAH MORE'S RESIDENCE.]
+
+A curious incident in Hannah More's life was her encounter with Ann
+Yearsley, the Bristol Milkwoman, of whom some account is given in
+Southey's _Essay upon the Uneducated Poets_. A gossiping writer briefly
+states the case as follows: "This poor woman, as is well known, sold
+milk, and, from going to water it each morning at the Pierian font,
+caught at length the poetic fervor. Mrs. Hannah More, whom she served
+with cream, was struck by the _superior_ merit of her verses, and became
+her patroness. Mrs. More's name was enough to sell worse poetry, or even
+worse milk, than Ann Yearsley's. Milton had no such friend, and could
+not get twenty pounds for _Paradise_; but Ann Yearsley's book brought
+her some three hundred guineas. Hannah More, as she was the artificer,
+wanted also to become the manager, of the milkwoman's little fortune;
+but the milkwoman thought she was competent to take care of it herself,
+and wanted to bind her boys out to trades. The lady-patroness was
+offended at the independence of the _protegee_, who had been taken from
+under the milk-pails; Ann Yearsley dared to differ _from_ her
+benefactor, and was denounced as an ungrateful woman; all Mrs. More's
+idolaters _declared against_ her, and the whole religious world opened
+on her in full cry."[5] Lactilla (for so the Mores and Montagus called
+her) loudly remonstrated: she accused Hannah of being envious of her
+talents, and announced a new edition of her poems _freed from Mrs.
+More's corruptions_. She carried her point, but, deprived of Mrs. More's
+favor, she quickly sank back into misfortune and obscurity.
+
+[Illustration: WINE STREET, THE BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT SOUTHEY.]
+
+The parents of Lord Macaulay were intimate friends of Mrs. More, and in
+her later years Hannah watched with tender interest the brilliant
+promise of that extraordinary youth. Young Macaulay was a not infrequent
+visitor at Barley Wood, and Mrs. More at one time devised her library to
+him, but afterward withdrew the bequest, owing to her doubts of the
+"strictness" of Macaulay's views. Poor Macaulay! He failed to win the
+esteem of two great female writers: the one feared he had no "religion;"
+the other declared he had no "heart."
+
+As the Misses More began to get on in the seventies, one after the other
+died, and Barley Wood (or _Mauritania_, as wags called it) grew
+desolate. Then occurred the last great event of Hannah's life--her
+_flight_ from Barley Wood. It suddenly transpired that for three years
+her eight servants had been in full enjoyment of high life below stairs
+It was discovered that they had given large orders to tradesmen in her
+name; they had intercepted sums of money intended for charity, and when
+the whole household was supposed to be at rest they were supping on
+presents of game sent to Mrs. More; they had secretly harbored in the
+house one of their relatives who had lost her place for disreputable
+conduct: in short, Mrs. Jellaby's household would have been a paradise
+in comparison with this one. What did Hannah do? She left for ever the
+home of her life: she _ran away_! A house was secretly taken at Clifton,
+and after she had fled the servants received a quarter's wages in
+advance with immediate dismissal. It must be said for Mrs. More that
+during her sisters' lifetime she had had nothing to do with the
+housekeeping; further, she was in very ill health, and had not been down
+stairs for seven years; but, with all the palliations that may be
+offered, is it not startling to find that this woman's influence had
+pervaded the civilized world with the exception of that little corner of
+it which was to be found under her own roof? This incident, together
+with the quarrel with Lactilla, suggests that Mrs. More did not exert
+_personally_ a very strong influence. In regard to her servants she
+relied upon the deathbed harangue with which Mrs. Martha had consigned
+her to their care, and her confidence was kept up by the texts of
+Scripture which they each night carefully repeated to her before
+retiring to eat her game.
+
+In the heyday of Hannah More's popularity there were living in Bristol
+or its vicinity three young men who were to bring in the new literary
+epoch by which Hannah has been forgotten--Coleridge, Southey and
+Wordsworth. Both Southey and Coleridge were introduced to Mrs. More by
+Cottle. Southey was invited to pass a day at Cowslip Green: he pleased
+equally all five of the sisters, and Hannah pronounced him "one of the
+most elegant and intellectual young men they had seen." In 1814, Cottle
+conferred a like favor on Coleridge: they went down to Barley Wood,
+where for the space of two hours Coleridge delighted the five-leaved
+clover with his brilliant talk, but, unluckily, a titled visitor coming
+in, the poor philosopher was left to finish his soliloquy alone.
+
+Southey was born in Bristol, at No. 9 Wine street, now the sign of the
+Golden Key. His father, a draper, carried on his business under the sign
+of a hare: although all his life a shopkeeper, he had been brought up in
+the country, and was passionately fond of country sports. He related of
+his first experience of city life in London that, happening to look out
+at the shop-door just as a porter was passing with a hare in his hands,
+it brought the country so vividly before him that he burst into tears,
+and the impression was so lasting that years after, when opening a shop
+in Bristol, he took the hare for a sign, having it painted on a pane in
+the window on each side of the door and printed on the shop-bills. Of
+Robert Southey's recollections of Bristol there is his own very charming
+account in the first volume of his _Life_ by his son.
+
+We return to Pope's letter to Mrs. Martha Blount for his description of
+Clifton: "Passing still along by the river, you come to a rocky way on
+one side, overlooking green hills on the other: on that rocky way rise
+several white houses, and over them red rocks; and as you go farther
+more rocks above rocks, mixed with green bushes, and of different
+colored stone. This, at a mile's end, terminates in the house of the Hot
+Well, whereabouts lie several pretty lodging-houses, open to the river
+with walks of trees. When you have seen the hills seem to shut upon you
+and to stop any farther way, you go into the house, and looking out at
+the back door, a vast rock of an hundred feet high, of red, white,
+green, blue and yellowish marbles, all blotched and variegated, strikes
+you quite in the face; and, turning on the left, there opens the river
+at a vast depth below, winding in and out, and accompanied on both sides
+with a continued range of rocks up to the clouds, of an hundred colors,
+one behind another, and so to the end of the prospect, quite to the sea.
+But the sea nor the Severn you do not see: the rocks and river fill the
+eye, and terminate the view much like the broken scenes behind one
+another in a play-house.
+
+"Upon the top of those high rocks by the Hot Well, which I have
+described to you, there runs on one side a large down of fine turf for
+about three miles. It looks too frightful to approach the brink and look
+down upon the river; but in many parts of this down the valleys descend
+gently, and you see all along the windings of the stream and the opening
+of the rocks, which turns close in upon you from space to space for
+several miles in toward the sea. There is first, near Bristol, a little
+village upon this down called Clifton, where are very pretty
+lodging-houses, overlooking all the woody hills, and steep cliffs and
+very green valleys within half a mile of the Wells, where in the summer
+it must be delicious walking and riding, for the plain extends, one way,
+many miles: particularly, there is a tower that stands close at the edge
+of the highest rock, and sees the stream turn quite round it; and all
+the banks, one way, are wooded in a gentle slope for near a mile high,
+quite green; the other bank all inaccessible rock, of an hundred colors
+and odd shapes, some hundred feet perpendicular."
+
+[Illustration: SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT CLIFTON.]
+
+The reputation of the Hot Well, whose waters Pope was sent to drink, has
+utterly collapsed. The Hot Well house was long ago removed to admit a
+widening of the river, and the well itself is now inaccessible. There is
+no spa, once of great reputation, that has sunk into such complete
+oblivion as the Clifton Hot Well: this may be due, in part, to the
+exaggerated estimate that was formed of the virtue of the water, and to
+the blamable practice which prevailed of sending patients here at their
+last gasp as a forlorn hope. Of too many it might be said as in these
+lines from the epitaph on his wife by the poet Mason in Bristol
+cathedral:
+
+    To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care
+    Her faded form: she bowed to taste the wave,
+    And died.
+
+The little village of Clifton has now become a handsome suburb, where
+reside the wealthy successors of the merchant-venturers of Bristol. It
+is continuous with Bristol, and where the one begins or the other ends
+is not evident except to the parish authorities. The downs are what they
+were in Pope's time, with the exception of what is now their most
+striking feature--the suspension bridge across the chasm. As early as
+1753, Mr. Vick, an alderman of Bristol, bequeathed one thousand pounds,
+to be kept at interest until they should reach ten thousand, when the
+amount was to be expended upon a stone bridge across the Avon. Nearly
+eighty years after, in 1830, the fund had reached eight thousand pounds,
+and it was determined to form a company to push forward the project: a
+plan for a suspension bridge by Mr. Brunel was accepted at an estimated
+cost of fifty-seven thousand pounds, and subscriptions were vigorously
+solicited. On the 27th of August, 1836, the foundation-stone was laid in
+the presence of the members of the British Association for the
+Advancement of Science, then holding its sixth annual meeting in
+Bristol. The work went on slowly for seven years, at the end of which it
+was abandoned for want of funds, forty-five thousand pounds having been
+expended, including the legacy of eight thousand. For nearly twenty
+years the towers and abutments stood, unsightly objects in a lovely
+scene, until in 1860 the Hungerford suspension bridge in London was
+taken down, and it was found that its chains might be made use of to
+carry out the uncompleted plan at Clifton. A new company was formed
+with a capital of thirty-five thousand pounds, in ten-pound shares, and
+at length, in December, 1864, the bridge was thrown open to the public.
+Its span is seven hundred and two feet; height from low water, two
+hundred and eighty-seven feet. An inscription on one of the piers thus
+epitomizes its story: "Suspensa vix via fit."
+
+There are many reflections which may be called up by a glance over the
+brink of the chasm at Clifton. Down this muddy ditch dropped the little
+Matthew, with the Cabots in command, bound for the discovery of America;
+borne on the surface of this liquid mud, the Great Western (built at
+Bristol) found its way to the sea and demonstrated the practicability of
+steam traffic with America; and if you ask why Bristol now has so little
+share in that traffic, although reasons as plenty as blackberries will
+be showered upon you, perhaps you will find as convincing a reason as
+any in the sight of this narrow and tortuous channel. Now, at last,
+docks are being built at the mouth of the Avon, and one adapted to the
+largest vessels was opened on the 24th of February, 1877. The prospects
+of present success cannot be brilliant in the prevalent depression of
+the Atlantic trade, yet, to have heard the wild talk in February, one
+would have thought that the dock had only to open its mouth (or gate) to
+have the great plums of trade at once fall into it. The company is too
+wise to expect to catch birds simply by hanging out a cage: every one
+waits to see what _bait_ they will offer. It is claimed that the passage
+from New York to Avonmouth may be made in a day less than to the Mersey,
+and mails and passengers forwarded thence to London in three hours. May
+we soon have the pleasure of welcoming American friends on Avonmouth
+Dock!
+
+ALFRED S. GIBBS.
+
+
+
+
+AN ATELIER DES DAMES.
+
+[Illustration: TABLEAU VIVANT.]
+
+
+After years of patient endeavor, of hope deferred and heart oftentimes
+made sick, Paletta found herself at last in Paris. Behind her were years
+of anxious calculations and shabby economies, a chequered pathway of
+brilliant ambitions and sombre discouragements. Before her was another
+vista of several years of art-study in the great capital--a vista
+arched, she could not but know, by as heavy clouds as had ever darkened
+her path. Yet she _felt_, even although she could not see its end, that
+the forward vista climbed ever upward toward glorious heights, upon
+which the storms of despair never beat, and where she could more nearly
+touch upon the divine ideals that ever elude the grasp of even the
+loftiest of earth's climbers.
+
+And thus she was content. Paletta was yet a little young, it must be
+said, yet in that blessed youthfulness when the loins are girded with
+the strength that reduces mountains to molehills and forces the Apollyon
+of dismay to flee from out every dark valley.
+
+Behold Paletta--twenty-three years of age, with a winy color upon her
+lips, the faintest perceptible shadow of fading upon the roses of her
+cheeks, a little anxious wrinkle between her earnest gray eyes, a slight
+nasal twang in her New England voice, and a fresh flounce upon her old
+black alpaca dress--the first morning of her experience in an _atelier
+des dames_ in Paris! She had come down the hill from her dark little
+room on Montmartre, fancying that the gray December day was crystalline,
+that the dingy Rue Germain Pillon--with its dirty gamins of both sexes
+in cropped hair and blouses or white caps and black gowns, its frowsy
+women slouching in doorways, its succession of odorous _cuisines
+bourgeoises_, vile-smelling _lavoirs_, cheap fruit-shops and plebeian
+_cremeries_, its slimy cobblestones, its gutters running _not_ with
+laughing waters, and sending up scents _not_ of spicy isles ensphered
+by sun-illumined seas--was a rainbow arch over which she passed with
+airy tread toward the Krug studio. For had she not at last finished for
+ever the detestable photograph-coloring which had been a daily
+crucifixion of all her artistic feelings for years? Had she not at last
+reached the Enchanted Land for which she had labored and pined for half
+her life? Had she not clothes enough to last her with patient mendings
+and persistent remakings for two years? Had she not a thousand dollars
+at the Credit Lyonnais? And did not that stately entrance before her
+lead into a spacious courtyard, and that courtyard open upon the famous
+_Atelier des Dames_, where, at the feet of celebrated masters of form
+and color, she was to learn some of the mysteries of the art to which
+she had vowed her life?
+
+[Illustration: "JE VIEN ME PROPOSER COMME MODELE, MESDAMES."]
+
+Within the court, before the handsome building whose story after story
+of immense north windows showed it to be a collection of artists'
+studios, she found an interesting _tableau vivant_. A group of
+chattering models came laughing across the sunny court. In one corner
+loomed a huge square object surmounted by the conical crown of a
+Tyrolean hat. Nothing else was visible except a pair of gaitered feet
+mixed among the legs of a sketching-easel, making the whole seem some
+queer phenomenal creature which science had not yet classified or named.
+Before this phenomenon stood--or rather fidgeted--a beautiful Arabian
+horse with flashing eyes, and limbs clean cut as if by Doric chisel in
+marble of Pentelicus. This superb animal was held by two grooms, one at
+his head, the other holding first one foot, then another, as the order
+to pose the unwilling model fractionally in the attitude of a prancing,
+curveting Bucephalus came from the square, five-legged, unnamed creature
+in the corner.
+
+"Ah!" thought Paletta as she followed her shadow over the sunny
+pavement, "the famous animal-painter Jacques is behind that great square
+canvas, I know, for I saw him there yesterday painting a struggling
+sheep."
+
+The large room was closely packed with easels--so closely, indeed, that
+an inadvertent motion of hand or foot often sent a wave of excitement
+through the whole atelier. Heads of every color, from youthful flaxen to
+venerable gray, were bent over their labors. Hecubas and Helens worked
+side by side; maulsticks everywhere gave the scene the appearance of a
+winter-denuded thicket; plaster hands, feet and torsos hung upon the
+walls; bull-headed Nero swelled upon a shelf beside the mutilated Venus
+which is a revelation of the glory that merely human beauty can attain
+without a gleam borrowed from the divine; fat Vitellius seemed to snore
+open-eyed beside lean and wakeful Julius Caesar; a mask of Medusa leaned
+lovingly upon the shoulder of Dante; Apollo Belvedere smiled upon an
+_ecorche_--in atelier parlance "skun man;" finished and unfinished
+studies of heads, bodies and detached sections of bodies hung from nails
+in every possible and impossible place. Upon a slightly elevated
+platform sat the model in his usual street-costume, with oily hair,
+parted in the middle, falling in long waves upon his shoulders. A spiky
+circle rested upon his brow, and upon his face was such a stupendous yet
+futile effort after an expression of divine sweetness and resignation as
+caused maulsticks to separate themselves every now and then from the
+denuded thicket and to wabble vaguely about his mouth or play wildly in
+his hair, accompanied by the commands, "Posez la bouche!" "Posez les
+yeux!" or, in good American accents, accompanied with a sniff of wrath,
+"Call _him_ a good Christ? Umph! He'd pose better as a first-class
+Cheshire cat."
+
+[Illustration: "THE BEST CHRIST IN PARIS."]
+
+The model's divine smile broadened suddenly into a very human grin.
+
+"Do you understand English, monsieur?" demanded Miss New Haven
+suspiciously, remembering the freedom with which the personal merits and
+defects of the French and Italian models were usually discussed in their
+presence in the Anglo-Saxon tongue.
+
+"A leetle, mademoiselle: I have lived in Londres during two years."
+
+"As artists' model?"
+
+"Oui, mademoiselle. I have made the Jesuses, the St. Johns and the
+Judases for the great English artists teel I have ennuied myself
+enormement."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because ze artists Anglaise are ze masters vairy difficile, not comme
+les artists Francais. Zey demand zat ze model pose during two hours sans
+repose, and zey nevvair give of to drink to ze model."
+
+"Did you return to Paris when you ennuied yourself so enormement?" asked
+a yellow-haired English girl who had painted countless vaporous and
+ravishing Eurydices and filmy Echoes from broad-waisted, pug-nosed
+Cockney models, and who always declared that she would recognize a
+"professional" even among the shining hosts of heaven.
+
+"Non, mademoiselle. I rested at Londres to make la musique."
+
+"The music?"
+
+"Comme ca;" and the Italian made sundry rotary motions of the arm, as if
+grinding an invisible hand-organ.
+
+[Illustration: THE ELDER SWEDE AND ARAMINTA SHODDY.]
+
+"Did you earn more money with the music or as model?" asked Mademoiselle
+Emilie, the girl-artist from Madrid, with black hair dyed golden, who
+always swore by Murillo's Virgins, and who did her work dreamily, as if
+the motions of her hands were timed to the languorous rhythm of some
+far-off, daintily-touched guitar beneath vine-wreathed balcony and
+starlit sky.
+
+"In Londres I gained more money as musician. In Angleterre zere is not
+mooch love of ze Christ, ze St. John and ze Judas. It is not a Catholic
+country, comme la France, and ze Anglaises aime bettaire ze gods of ze
+old Greek hommes. In la France zey aime ze true religion, and I gain
+mooch money, and am in ze Salon many times evairy year, because I am ze
+best Christ in Paris."
+
+A wail swept up from French, American, English, Swedish, Spanish,
+Norwegian, Russian and West Indian bosoms.
+
+"_We'll_ embrace the religion and the gods of the old Greek hommes then,
+or throw ourselves into the profoundest gulfs of infidelity, while we
+remain in Paris," ejaculated Bostonia in a vigorous stage-aside.
+
+"Have you a wife?" asked Madame Deschamps, a fashionable
+portrait-painter.
+
+"Oui, madame. Ma femme is Lucreza, whom you _know_. She has made the
+nymphs and goddesses for a _thousand_ pictures, but now she is so much
+fat that the messieurs will have her only for the head, although she
+still poses for the _ensemble_ in the ateliers des dames."
+
+Here the best Christ in Paris grinned satanically as a polyglot howl
+went up from among the students.
+
+"That's his tit for the tat of the 'Cheshire cat,'" laughed Madame
+Lafarge, a French-American Corinne with an all-French moustache.
+
+"We won't have Lucreza again if she is too fat to pose for the nude
+except in a _ladies'_ studio," snapped the elder Swede.
+
+"Oh, I have forgotten to say zat she has upset ze pail since eight
+days," chuckled the man.
+
+"Upset the pail?" And twenty pairs of eyes looked full of
+interrogation-points.
+
+"Giggle! giggle! giggle!" came sputteringly from behind Concordia's
+easel as she gasped, "Don't you understand? He has improved his English
+among the Americans in Gerome's studio, and he means she kicked the
+bucket eight days ago."
+
+"Quelle langue! quelle _langue est la langue_ Americaine!" sniffed the
+elder Swede, wiping off a brushful of "turps" in her back hair.
+
+Paletta twisted her head so as to peer through the forest of easels at
+the last speaker.
+
+"What daubs _she_ must make!" she thought, gazing at spectacled green
+eyes and hay-colored hair _a la Chinoise_ with her fixed idea that "an
+artistic nature always wrought a semblance of its own beauty upon its
+outward form."
+
+"What _was_ the Greek religion?" questioned a girlish voice.
+
+Paletta twisted her neck again. "What _lovely_ ideals must blossom upon
+_her_ _canvases_!" she thought as she saw a fair vision of rose-tints,
+creamy texture and sculptured lines ensphered in a halo of golden hair.
+
+"Who is that poor woman who has so mistaken her vocation?" she asked
+with compassionate gesture toward the coiffure _a la Chinoise_.
+
+"That? Oh, that's the celebrated Swedish artist, Miss Thingumbobbia, of
+whom you have heard, of course. She returns to Stockholm next week to
+paint the king's portrait. Mon Dieu! but I would give all my hair for
+the genius of her little finger!" answered pretty Mademoiselle Hubert,
+scraping her palette viciously, as if it were responsible for her
+artistic inferiority to the gifted Thingumbobbia.
+
+"O-o-o-h!" gasped Paletta. "But who is the sweet creature with golden
+hair, who looks infused with fair ideals to her very finger-tips?"
+
+[Illustration: AN AMIABLE MADONNA!]
+
+"She? Oh, she's Miss Araminta Shoddy from Michigan Avenue, Chicago, who
+is finishing her education in Paris. She comes here twice a week for
+drawing-lessons from the antique, and also in pursuit of general
+information, I should think, judging from her questions. Only yesterday
+she said, 'Ladies, who can tell me the costume of the Venus de Melos? I
+have an idea that it would be stunning for my next fancy-dress ball!'"
+
+"Ladies," cried Miss San Francisco, invisible among the easels, "has
+Professor Manley given out the subject of our composition for next
+week?"
+
+"Yes," answered a dozen voices--"'The Flight into Egypt.'"
+
+"Oh, Miss Shoddy, Miss Shoddy, _will_ you pose for my Virgin Mother?"
+cried another dozen.
+
+[Illustration: THE MORNING LESSON.]
+
+[Illustration: "HE'S GONE, GIRLS!"]
+
+"Oh, Mees Shoddy, if you will pose for my Madonna I will pose for
+yours," echoed the Raphaelesque Thingumbobbia.
+
+Just before noon the forest of easels swayed slightly beneath a breeze
+of excitement. A masculine step was heard at the door. The model's
+expression became if not divine, at least superhuman. The ladies ceased
+their chatter, and plied their brushes and crayons with increased
+diligence. The morning professor entered, and passed from easel to
+easel, commending this, criticising that, rebuking something else,
+making a few touches of the brush upon several canvases, crossing others
+with a network of charcoal-lines to prove inaccuracy of drawing,
+distributed _tres biens_ and _pas mals_ judiciously, and then with a
+pleasant "Bon jour, mesdames," passed away, leaving behind him about an
+equal measure of delight and dismay.
+
+[Illustration: "H-E-A-VENLY CHEESE FOR A FRANC A POUND?"]
+
+"I hope his bed-clothes will always come up at the foot!" growled
+Austina, whose canvas looked like a map of a humming-bird's flight done
+in charcoal.
+
+"Let's all subscribe and buy The Angel a bouquet for Christmas," gushed
+enthusiastically the British blonde Godsalina, upon whom one of the _pas
+mals_ had fallen, and who had the true faith of her nation in the
+efficacy of "tips" for sovereign or beggar.
+
+[Illustration: "JE SUIS A VOUS."]
+
+Then the model stretched his legs, returned to his normal and carnal
+expression of countenance, and disappeared to return no more till the
+morrow, leaving the platform vacant awaiting the nude female model who
+was engaged for the afternoon. The atelier was abandoned to Sophie, the
+_femme de menage_, who stirred the fires, gathered stray brushes from
+the floor, changed the background drapery for the afternoon model,
+rearranged the easels into afternoon position, and brought out glasses
+and plates for the ladies, who lunched in the anteroom. And then a
+looker-on in a Parisian atelier des dames would readily have understood
+the words, "He's gone, girls!" even were that looker-on deafer than the
+deafest old woman who ever mistook a thunder-clap for one of her lord's
+champion snores. In the anteroom conversation ran during lunch in
+various channels. Some of the ladies discussed the ever-absorbing topic
+of the price of living, and boasted of marvellous exploits in the way of
+economy. Other and fewer students, to whom money was as the dust upon
+the bust of Pallas over the studio-door, talked of the last "first
+representations" at the Francais, of Croisette's rapidly amplifying
+figure, of Sarah Bernhardt's unnecessary immodesty in dressing Racine's
+Andromaque, of the Grant reception at Healy's, of Lefevre's slipperiness
+of texture, of the lack of the true sentiment of piety in Bouguereau's
+religious pictures, of the harum-scarum amusements among the Americans
+at Bonnat's atelier, and the latest gossip of the private studios.
+
+[Illustration: SATURDAY EVE.]
+
+"Want to know where you can buy just _h-e-a-venly_ cheese for a franc a
+pound?" mumbles young Madame New Jersey with her mouth full of Gruyere.
+
+"Where?" from several excited listeners.
+
+"Over in the Latin Quarter, close by the Rue Jacob Brasserie, where so
+many American students hold daily symposia."
+
+"I'll go and buy a quarter of a pound this very evening," said Miss
+Providence energetically.
+
+"I too! I too! et moi aussi!" cried others of the many who lived _a la
+Bohemienne_ in lofty mansards of _maisons meublees_, dining at cheap
+restaurants, breakfasting by aid of spirit-lamps from corners of
+dressing-tables and lunching on _charcuterie_ in the anteroom of the
+Krug studio, searching high and low for "cheapness" as for a pearl of
+great price.
+
+"And pay twelve sous for your omnibus fare!" cried the practical little
+Illinois maiden, Dixonia.
+
+"Je suis a vous, mesdames," said the favorite model, Alphonse, at the
+door.
+
+"Alas, sweet Adonis! we have engaged our people for the next three
+weeks."
+
+"And I am desole, mesdames, that you have not want of me;" and the
+graceful Alphonse melted away like a snow-wreath in a south wind.
+
+At one o'clock came the sallow Frenchwoman, with the face of a Gorgon
+and the figure of a Juno, who posed for the _ensemble_. She stood
+against the dark crimson background, outlined pure and white like a
+marvel of Phidian sculpture upon which the Spirit of Life had slightly
+breathed. So still, so white, so coldly, purely statuesque she seemed,
+that one sometimes entirely forgot that she was else than the fair
+statue born from the block of marble at the command of a divine genius,
+till the chiselled arms were seen to quiver and the sculptured knees to
+almost bend. Then a reproachful cry ran through the atelier: "Shame!
+shame! We have forgotten that she was a woman and not a statue, and
+have kept her posing two hours without a repose."
+
+"How much do you earn by this wearisome business?" asked Paletta
+pityingly as the tired model, wrapped in a threadbare waterproof,
+cowered over the stove during "the repose."
+
+"If I pose for a half day of each week like this in an atelier des
+dames, I earn twenty-five francs a week, but what I earn by posing for
+artists in private studios depends much upon chance. Sometimes I am
+needed only for a leg or arm or bust, or even hand: then I earn less of
+course, for it makes broken hours. I would demand much more from the
+ateliers des dames had I a handsome face, but always my ensemble is
+painted with the head of a prettier model where there is any purpose of
+using me in a picture."
+
+"Do you become often as fatigued as you are now?" continued Paletta.
+
+"Often more so. I have posed for nearly an hour upon one foot with
+extended arms in a dance of bacchantes, till I have fainted. Oftentimes
+I am kept in a running position upon one foot, with the other far behind
+me, in Atalanta's race; sometimes suspended by cords from the ceiling,
+with arms and legs in horribly uncomfortable positions, till everything
+seems to spin before me."
+
+"Do you dislike to pose for male artists?" asked Paletta.
+
+"Dislike? Why should I with so fine a figure as this?" answered the
+woman, throwing off her cloak to resume her pose. "I'd like it better if
+I had a handsome face, but I'd like it much worse if I had flabby flesh
+or buniony feet."
+
+Paletta saw that no question of modesty entered the model's mind, and
+she went back to her easel to paint the rounded limbs and marble
+huelessness of fair Dian, chastest of all Olympia's deities, wondering
+if, after all, what is called modesty does not come as much of habit as
+of nature--if the veiled face of the Oriental is not as immodest as the
+unclothedness of the artist's model.
+
+MARGARET B. WRIGHT.
+
+
+
+
+"AUF DEM HEIMWEG."
+
+
+    Thy light streams far, thou gladdening star,
+      O'er vale and forest, tower and town:
+    From land and sea men look to thee,
+      In every clime, as night comes down.
+    But ah! were all the eyes that mark
+      Thy rising, closed in endless dark,
+    Undimmed would glitter still
+      Thy bright unpitying spark!
+
+    I heed thee not. In yonder cot,
+      As home I haste, from toil set free,
+    Through dusk and damp the casement-lamp
+      Shines clear across the fields for me.
+    Dear light! dear heart! how well I know,
+    If bitter Death should lay me low,
+      Dark would that casement be,
+    And quenched your winsome glow!
+
+MARY KEELY BOUTELLE.
+
+
+
+
+THROUGH WINDING WAYS.
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+"I can't reach it," declared Georgy. "You boys are all growing so tall
+that a girl has to mount on stilts in order to go about with you."
+
+"I will find a log," said I, looking about us.
+
+"Come!" struck in Jack Holt, laughing, "make a footstool of me, Georgy;"
+and without another word he flung himself flat on his face. She was
+never loath to put her foot upon any of our necks, figuratively
+speaking, and now, with a burst of laughter, she took Jack at his word,
+and planting herself on his shoulders peered down through the coils of
+Virginia creeper into the cunningly devised bird's nest in the hollow of
+an oak tree. There were five delicately tinted eggs, and she tried in
+vain to squeeze her slim hand through the aperture and possess herself
+of them.
+
+"Getting tired, Jack?" she asked presently.
+
+"No," he answered, his face still kissing the moss: "I don't tire so
+easily in your service, Georgy."
+
+I felt rather bitter against them both. I would have died to serve this
+girl, I told myself, yet such an opportunity left me dull and cold. I
+was always dreaming of doughty deeds to please her, yet if she dropped
+her handkerchief I could hardly stoop to pick it up.
+
+"Oh, get up, Jack!" cried Harry Dart, whose lip had been curling in
+angry scorn as he watched the performance: "you are by far too good to
+be trodden under foot by any girl, let alone Georgy Lenox."
+
+Georgy tripped down from her temporary throne and made Harry a little
+courtesy. "Do you mean to say that you would not be glad to be trodden
+under foot by Georgy Lenox?" she asked, laughing and tossing her curls.
+
+He gave a contemptuous shrug: "Wait until I give you an opportunity.
+Floyd and I don't make fools of ourselves for any girls."
+
+"Come, come, Harry!" said Jack, who had risen from the ground and was
+now wiping off the earth-stains from his clothes, "don't spoil our day
+by being disagreeable.--Shall we go on, Georgy?" He gave her a peculiar
+glance in which there was less of humility than gentle command, and she
+sprang after him and put her hand within his arm. He did not serve her
+for rewards as yet, and was used to as many blows as smiles, and this
+was a rare condescension on her part.
+
+Georgy was fifteen--of the same age as Harry, but considerably younger
+than Jack, who was two years older than his cousin, while I was the
+youngest of the three. We had been playmates all our lives, and had each
+of us found in Georgy Lenox the only girl-friend of our boyhood. She had
+been a beauty from her infancy, and her wiles had grown with her growth
+and strengthened with her strength; and now her myriad tricks of
+mischief, caprice and cruelty were too closely identified with what was
+most bewitching in her not to have become additional charms for us. In
+those days, while we were still hobbledehoys, she pleased us the more
+that she had, with the precocity of her sex, quite outstripped us where
+all subtle social forces are concerned. Although she could be a hoyden
+still, it was quite as easy for her to assume the part of an elegant
+young lady, equipped for society with charming manners, a fastidious
+taste and indifferent ease. We occasionally laughed at her airs, but
+inwardly admired her superb assumptions of careless superiority: had she
+become timid, docile, admiring toward us, I dare say her reign would not
+have lasted the day out.
+
+Harry flung his arm about me, and we followed Jack and Georgy deeper and
+deeper into the wood. It was the last Saturday in May, and the fairest
+day of the year. The thickets were full of mysterious sounds, and one
+could almost feel the beating of the delicate pulses of the springing,
+expanding life about us. I knew all the secrets of this forest, and
+loved no place half so well in Belfield outside of my own home. Nature,
+too, seemed tenderer of it than of other wildnesses, and had set the
+seal of her choice upon it with every gift of fern and vine and moss and
+lichen. No axe had invaded these solitudes for years except to prune
+away a too riotous undergrowth along the cart-path: the trees grew in
+grand natural aisles, and to look through the noble colonnade into
+mysterious vistas of copsewood gloom and stillness was for me to thrill
+with that blissful agony of youthful emotion which is our first
+premonition of the unreachable secret that underlies the universe.
+
+"Did you ever think," said Harry to me earnestly, "that you would like
+to leave the world behind you for ever and live altogether in the woods,
+with only the trees and birds for company?"
+
+But, dearly although I loved the woods, I could not answer him that I
+should be willing to resign my home, my mother, my friends and social
+joys for the life of a hermit.
+
+"It's pleasant to see people," I suggested.
+
+"I'm not sure of that," Harry rejoined with sudden misanthropy. "See
+what a hard world it is! I feel to-day like Achilles in his tent."
+
+"But I don't like Achilles: he was only sullen because he had lost
+Briseis. Surely, Harry, you don't mind it that Georgy has gone on with
+Jack?"
+
+Harry laughed loud and long: "That would be a good joke! As if I cared
+for Georgy Lenox! But it does make me angry to see Jack so taken up with
+her. Did you see her new shoes?"
+
+There could be no question of that.
+
+"Jack bought them for her," said Harry with angry emphasis. "He spends
+all his money on her, and I think it is a shame. She told him at first
+she could not come to-day, because she had nothing to wear on her feet
+except thin slippers. What does Jack do but post off to John Edwards and
+buy her a pair of boots at once!" He paused a moment, then burst out:
+"Just look at them!"
+
+Georgy had flung her flowers at Jack, and having jumped across the
+little brook which meandered through the wood, now nodded at him
+defiantly, tossing her long curls, while her eyes sparkled and her color
+rose. He too sprang over the stream, with pretended anger, and she gave
+a little shriek and flew down the path, with him in pursuit. Jack was
+clumsy and not built for speed, while Georgy had the spring of a fawn;
+but I suspect she was willing to be caught, for when we next gained a
+glimpse of them she was sitting on a stump fanning herself with her
+broad-brimmed hat, which had fallen off, while he was leaning against a
+tree looking at her.
+
+"He has kissed her--I know he has," Harry whispered to me with a bitter
+look. "I would die before I would kiss her when she behaved like that!"
+
+I was in a sort of tremor. I was too young to be in love in the ordinary
+sense of the phrase, but I was aghast at the thought of the bloom of her
+cheeks and lips being plucked like roses in a hedgerow. She was precious
+to my imagination, yet, for all her every-day reality, scarcely nearer
+to my aspirations than Lady Edith Plantagenet or Ellen, Lady of the
+Lake.
+
+"I don't care," muttered Harry doggedly--"I don't care. I dare say he
+means to marry her when he grows up, but I don't care."
+
+"Floyd," called out Georgy, "can't you show me another bird's nest?"
+
+Now I knew at least a hundred birds' nests in these woods. All Wednesday
+afternoon I had nestled here in the thickets and watched the little
+builders hopping from moss to bough and twig, and had learned all their
+secrets. I knew that by the great rock just behind where she was sitting
+was a ledge with shelving sides overhung with moss, and that there, so
+cunningly wrought and hidden that none but a trained eye could ever have
+discovered it, was an exquisite nest formed of lichens. Half ashamed of
+disclosing such a sacred confidence, I led Georgy up to it. Last
+Wednesday it was barely finished: now there were three eggs in it. It
+was a wood-pewee's nest, and while I let her peep the mother-bird flew
+toward us with a shrill pathetic cry.
+
+"Hush, you horrid thing!" cried Georgy to the alarmed bird, that circled
+about us with cries growing every moment more piercing.--"Is not that
+perfectly sweet? I never saw anything prettier."
+
+I had only consented that she should give one glance, and I now tried to
+coax her away; but nothing would content her but to hold two of the eggs
+in her hand, and while she held them her foot slipped and they fell to
+the ground, and she trod upon them.
+
+"Oh, Georgy!" I cried angrily, "that is too horribly careless of you: I
+cannot forgive you."
+
+"The idea!" she returned, laughing. "Do look at him, boys!--as white as
+a ghost just because I broke those wretched eggs! Look at that furious
+little bird! I declare it is ready to peck my eyes out! There, madam!
+now you may go to work and lay some more eggs;" and she took the sole
+remaining egg from the nest and flung it with wanton cruelty into the
+thicket.
+
+I was cut to the heart. Both Jack and Harry came up to me, but I shook
+them off and sat down upon a fallen trunk, and would not say a word in
+answer to their inquiries or consolations. Presently they wandered down
+the woods together, and left me there alone. The owners of the despoiled
+nest kept up a loud, emphatic chirping for a time, which drew all the
+other birds to discover its cause. I felt as if they looked at me with
+wonder and resentment in their innocent eyes. But after a time the
+tumult of sorrow passed and the usual forest sounds returned: the whir
+of partridge-wings smote the air, and I heard the tender coo of the
+mother-hen; then the wind rose and blew through the tree-tops, and the
+blossoming boughs moved restlessly, no longer filtering green sunshine
+through their transparent leaves, but disclosing a gathering storm in
+the glimpses I gained of the sky above. I knew a short cut through the
+wood which led to the hill at the back of my mother's house, and when I
+heard Harry's voice calling me I sprang like a deer into the covert, and
+before the rain came had reached home.
+
+Georgy's wanton cruelty had wounded me deeply, but my allegiance to our
+girl-queen was not easily thrown off; and seizing an umbrella I flew
+back to the woods to offer it to Georgy, who received it kindly, glad of
+shelter from the sudden shower. I was as proud of her smile and
+good-natured thanks as a dog is proud of his master's scant caress after
+a sound beating.
+
+The fair May day ended in rain, and, as usual on Saturdays, my three
+mates finished the afternoon with me. Jack took his books and went
+sturdily at his Greek; Harry drew pictures by the dozen; Georgy was
+reading _Queechy,_ nestled in my mother's chair by the bay-window; and I
+was deep in one of the _Waverley_ novels. Banners streamed, bugles blew,
+spears gleamed, knights jostled in my world. Oh for a wet afternoon
+again like that twenty-five years ago, with the monotonous patter of
+rain in my ears, to go back to Coeur de Lion and Edith and Saladin! And
+not alone the time and the books, and the old high heart with the old
+longings and resolves, and the old fearless eyes to look out upon the
+world, but the old companions as well, with their glorious boy-faces,
+untouched then by any imprint of the base emotions and aims sure almost,
+a little later, to enter in and defile! The rain pattered ceaselessly;
+the heavy scent of the lilacs came in through the open windows; the
+martins screamed about their boxes under the eaves of the stable, and I
+could hear the twitter of innumerable birds; but with the consciousness
+of all this I had no thought except of my rapture for Kenneth when the
+dog sprang at the throat of Conrad.
+
+"Floyd," said Georgy, putting her hand on my arm, "don't you hear the
+door-bell? Ann went out an hour ago."
+
+Our service was not numerous, and if Ann had gone out, as was her wont
+when she found a moment's leisure, there was no one to answer the bell
+but myself. I rose heavily and unwillingly, and walked along the little
+hall, my eyes still glued upon the page, hardly raising them when I
+opened, the door until I saw, instead of some indifferent neighbor, a
+tall gentleman, quite strange to Belfield, who was shutting his dripping
+umbrella. He was very tall, stately, broad-shouldered, with an impassive
+but handsome face, and a glance at once quiet and commanding. He
+regarded me with an amused smile, as if he knew me very well, and
+something about him gradually renewed a sort of recollection in me.
+
+"How do you do?" he asked as I stood squarely in the doorway staring at
+him.
+
+"I am quite well, sir," I returned gravely.
+
+"What is your name?" he inquired, laughing.
+
+"James Floyd Randolph," I answered.
+
+"I am James Floyd," said he. "Suppose you invite me in?"
+
+I led the way silently back to the dull, chilly sitting-room, where Jack
+and Harry still sat at the table, while Georgy was peeping out to catch
+a glimpse of the new arrival. Mr. Floyd, having put his umbrella in the
+rack and taken off his hat and overcoat, followed me, casting a look
+about the room as he entered, as if he missed somebody he expected to
+see.
+
+"My mother is not at home, sir," I observed, sitting down stiffly on the
+edge of a chair: "she has gone to spend the afternoon with a sick lady."
+
+"She will return presently?"
+
+"Oh, she will certainly be at home to tea, sir," I answered; and then,
+remarking that he gave a shrug as he glanced at the wide-open casements,
+I closed both windows, went to the closet, brought wood and kindlings
+and built a fire on the hearth.
+
+"You are a boy of much nice discrimination," remarked Mr. Floyd. "Now
+that you have a temperature not altogether conducive to lumbago, I will
+venture to sit down. Do you know who I am?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir: you are Mr. James Floyd, the gentleman I was named after."
+
+"Has your mother often spoken of me?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir," I said again, and at once observed that his face
+brightened up.
+
+"And who are these young people?" he inquired, apparently noticing the
+group by the table for the first time.
+
+I introduced them, and Mr. Floyd shook hands with Jack, put his hand
+under Harry's chin and looked keenly into his chiselled, beautiful face;
+then gave another glance at Georgy, to whom he had first bowed.
+
+"Miss Lenox?" he repeated. "Any relation of George Lenox?"
+
+"Oh yes, sir: I am his daughter," cried Georgy, blushing and dimpling.
+"I am third cousin to your little girl: Mr. Raymond at The Headlands is
+my great-uncle."
+
+"Yes, of course. How is your father?"
+
+"Papa is pretty well."
+
+"He was first cousin of my wife," said Mr. Floyd, "and I have met him, I
+believe."
+
+The door-bell rang again.
+
+"That is Antonio Thorpe," observed Mr. Floyd--"a young friend of mine
+for whom I want to get board and lodging in Belfield. Can any of you
+recommend a place? He is a lad of eighteen or nineteen, and will
+probably study under your own masters."
+
+"Mamma would be very glad to have a boarder," struck in Georgy
+earnestly. "There is a nice large room for him."
+
+I ushered in the new-comer, a slim fellow of my own height, but looking
+immeasurably older, with a delicate black moustache and a coat which
+fitted in a way to shame anything in Belfield.
+
+"Well, well, Tony!" said Mr. Floyd: "you followed quickly upon my
+footsteps; but all the better, perhaps, as I have already heard of a
+suitable place for you to settle. This young lady, Miss Lenox, thinks
+her mother may be able to accommodate you: perhaps she will be good
+enough to take you home now and introduce you, referring her family to
+me."
+
+Thorpe bowed with a very finished air, and presently was walking off in
+the rain with Georgy, holding his umbrella over her in a manner truly
+Grandisonian. Harry and Jack also went away, and I was left alone with
+my guardian; for, although I had never seen him since my father's
+funeral eight years before, my guardian I knew him to be. He called me
+up to him, flung his arm over my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "My
+dear boy!" said he in a kind voice, and kissed me on the forehead. "You
+remember me a little, don't you?" he asked.
+
+"I remember you now very well: at first it seemed all gone from me."
+
+"No wonder. I have been in Europe eight years. My little girl is ten
+years old, and had never seen me since she was the merest baby. She was
+afraid of me at first."
+
+But not for long, I was sure of that: nobody, man, woman or child, could
+look into his face and not love and trust him.
+
+"I want to see your mother," he exclaimed with a sudden flash of
+expression over his tranquil face. "Your mother is all that is left to
+me of my youth: I have come back an old man."
+
+I laughed at this, and then we fell to talking of our life in Belfield.
+I was not a loquacious fellow, but something about Mr. Floyd unloosed my
+tongue, and after describing our quiet household ways I spoke freely of
+the Lenoxes and of Jack and Harry. The two boys were cousins, and Harry,
+having neither father nor mother, lived with the Holts, who were the
+rich people of our village. My two friends loved me dearly, but still
+they were more to each other than I could be to either, for they shared
+the same room, ate at the same table, and had grown into an intimacy
+wonderful and rare even among brothers. They were Damon and Pythias,
+Orestes and Pylades; but indeed I doubted if anything in poetry, history
+or tradition had ever equalled this beautiful and complete friendship. I
+could not be jealous of it, because each gave me all I needed; and even
+if, at times, I felt the pang of being a little outside their world, my
+isolation was made sacred to me by the recollection of the brother I had
+lost, in whom some time, somewhere, I should regain everything.
+
+Mr. Floyd had a way of listening which made me yearn to tell him every
+insignificant detail of my life. I knew that he was a man of national
+reputation, but I hardly cared for that, since he was the pleasantest
+companion I had ever met. I found myself gossiping to him about our
+village worthies, making him laugh heartily at their sayings passed into
+tradition and fable among us boys; for our one-eyed shoemaker and our
+corpulent grocer, like many other country wits to fortune and to fame
+unknown, surpassed either Douglas Jerrold or Sydney Smith in quip and
+drollery. And I did not omit George Lenox, for all Belfield except his
+wife was in the secret of his affairs, and they were our crowning joke,
+in which poor George himself joined merrily, although the story was so
+against himself.
+
+"That girl of his is remarkably pretty," said Mr. Floyd. "Is he, then,
+so poor? He was well born, liberally educated, and married in a family
+of high pretensions."
+
+There could be no doubt but what George Lenox had begun better than
+other men, with enough to live on comfortably in city or country,
+provided he did not think too much of the necessity for showing his wife
+that she had not lessened her consequence in marrying him. Nobody could
+accuse poor Mr. Lenox now-a-days of ambition, or blame him if, in those
+early days as now, that terrible woman had frankly regarded him as an
+utter nonentity save in his association with her own destiny. She was a
+handsome woman, with aquiline nose, a thin, firmly-set mouth, piercing
+eyes and a magnificent carriage. She was no longer young when she had
+accepted Mr. Lenox, and by what means she had encompassed his
+subjugation we were never told: he always shook his head when he alluded
+to his courtship. "A fellow is wax in a woman's hands," he had sometimes
+remarked darkly. But after his marriage he had seemed to acquiesce in
+his wife's belief in her high individual value to the world in general
+and himself in particular, and had given her the best of everything.
+Mrs. Lenox knew how to spend money, she had a house in New York and a
+villa in Belfield; she had running accounts with tradesmen; and not only
+gave dinner-parties, balls and receptions, but out-dressed her circle
+with a sort of gorgeous superfluity which made her intimates experience
+the ignominy of their inferiority. Mr. Lenox resigned himself to the
+irresistible current of his wife's will, and if he felt inward doubts
+silenced them as suggestions of morbid distrust in the discretion of a
+woman whom he knew to be virtuous, and whose price was so much above
+rubies that sordid calculations ought not to be mentioned in the same
+breath with her. After a time, however, not even his high faith in the
+necessity of agreeable issues where she was concerned could blind him to
+the fact that he had many debts and but a few thousand dollars. He at
+once invested these thousands in an enterprise which was shortly to make
+all those interested in it millionaires. But if any one made money out
+of it, it was not George Lenox, who suddenly found himself reduced to be
+a pensioner upon his wife, who had twelve thousand dollars invested in
+railway stock. They removed to their little Gothic cottage in Belfield,
+and Mrs. Lenox lost what remained of her beauty, her spirits, her
+temper, but never her ineradicable pride. Within a year her husband had
+taken her railway stock, sold it and invested it in some speculation
+which failed ignominiously, as any schemes of his were sure to do.
+Nothing attracted him which was regulated by average laws of supply
+answering a demand: all his undertakings required a miracle, an upheaval
+of popular ideas, to ensure success. He never told his wife of this
+embezzlement of his: when he lost her property he meditated suicide, and
+merely staved off the evil day by pretending to pay her dividends
+regularly; and for this he twice a year implored the assistance of his
+uncle, Mr. Raymond. The railroad in which Mrs. Lenox had invested was a
+prosperous one, and occasionally declared an additional stock dividend:
+it was on these occasions that the reduced lady lost in a degree her
+usual air of picturesque gloom--that she roused herself to talk about
+her family and the glories of her youth, the eclat and brilliance of her
+position, which she had never lost until after marrying her unfortunate
+husband; and at such times she even regained her courage and made a
+round of visits, dropping glazed and ancient cards, and retaining in her
+feebleness all the traditions of her majesty. But this epoch of her
+revived grandeur was set in painful contrast to poor Lenox's misery. He
+was commissioned to sell the scrip, which, for him, had no existence,
+and thus raise money to deck the family in transient brightness. I fancy
+that at such times, without any waste of rhetoric or balancing of
+expediencies, he was more in love with suicide than Hamlet or Cato, and
+that if it had not been for the sympathy and aid of a golden-haired
+little girl he would have swallowed his death-potion quietly. Georgy was
+his firm ally against her mother, and helped him shrewdly in many a
+close pinch; and his rich uncle, Mr. Raymond (Mr. Floyd's
+father-in-law), rarely refused him provisional aid upon his application,
+although he was wise enough to decline helping him in any of his
+fantastic kite speculations.
+
+"And what sort of a girl is this Miss Georgy?" inquired Mr. Floyd. "Has
+she been injured at all by the somewhat exceptional circumstances of her
+family?"
+
+"Oh no, sir."
+
+"Is she gentle, generous and open in her ways?"
+
+"Gentle, sir--generous?"
+
+"She is remarkably pretty."
+
+I assented eagerly to this observation, and he laughed: "There is no
+doubt in your mind upon that point. If she were in all respects a
+suitable companion for Helen, I would request that she should be invited
+to The Headlands. But Tony will find out what she is made of. He will be
+a new friend for you."
+
+And he told me about this Antonio Thorpe, who had been under his
+guardianship for six years. He was the son of an Englishman who had
+married a Spanish girl in the West Indies: the lad was but twelve years
+old when he was thrown upon the world without parents or near relatives
+or suitable provision for his maintenance. The elder Thorpe had been a
+careless, good-natured person, without any distrust of his fellows, and
+not knowing what to do with his son had thrust him upon Mr. Floyd, who
+had at some trouble and expense looked after his education. He had
+entered college the year before, but his conduct had been a little
+unsatisfactory to the authorities, and his guardian had withdrawn him,
+and now, in some doubt as to the best course to pursue in regard to his
+future, wished him to study for a few months quietly at Belfield.
+
+"Your mother will let him visit here, I trust," he went on. "I think he
+is half a good fellow, and we must forgive the other half, because his
+mother was the proudest, vainest, silliest little Castilian that ever
+lived. Tony has got a good deal to contend against."
+
+But the drawbacks to Thorpe's advancement were not so patent to my mind
+on first acquaintance as his advantages. He had a slight, graceful
+figure, a little under height, but carried himself with the dignity of a
+grandee; his eyes were large, dark and languishing; his complexion was a
+pale olive; while his moustache, black and exquisitely pencilled, was a
+sign of itself of towering superiority above the rest of us callow
+youths. That alone would have filled me with envy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+"Ah," exclaimed Mr. Floyd, starting to his feet, "that is your mother, I
+hope."
+
+I had become too much absorbed in our talk to hear the click of the
+gate, but now I sprang up and rushed to the door, and, seeing my mother
+quietly walking up the path, I ran out bareheaded into the rain.
+
+"Oh, mother," I cried, "you cannot guess who has come to spend Sunday
+with us!"
+
+It seemed to me all at once that some thought of him must have been in
+her mind, for her color came and went. "I hope it is Cousin James," she
+replied calmly.
+
+As I took her umbrella from her hand I could see that she was trembling
+and her lips quivering. I unclasped her cloak and untied her bonnet, and
+took them from her: she ungloved her hands hastily and smoothed her hair
+as she went along the hall. Mr. Floyd stood facing her as she entered
+the sitting-room. "Dear Mary!" said he, and took her in his arms and
+kissed her.
+
+I felt as if I had been struck a heavy blow. I knew that he had been not
+only my father's first cousin, but his nearest and dearest friend as
+well; but, for all that, it was not easy for me to see my mother
+surrendering herself to that caress. But presently, when I saw that she
+was crying, I knew that she was thinking only of my father and her long
+agony of loneliness, and I forgave them both. When she regained her
+calmness she called me to her with a timid smile and a faint blush.
+
+"This is my boy, James," she said, looking up at Mr. Floyd smiling, but
+with the tears still on her cheeks. "He is your godson, you remember,
+and namesake."
+
+"My godson, my namesake, my ward, and my dear friend besides," replied
+Mr. Floyd, throwing his arm heavily over my shoulder. "I know him
+already very well, and I like him more than I can tell you."
+
+That same old thrill of feeling goes over me now like a wave as I write.
+As I stood looking up at him I seemed to grow rich, as if I had suddenly
+come into my kingdom. I continued to stand leaning against him as he sat
+down close beside my mother and talked intimately and freely with her. I
+may have felt a little alien and apart at first, for the days they
+talked of were the days of long ago, before I could remember. Mr.
+Floyd's private personal history had been but one short chapter in his
+long, full and busy life. He was well past thirty before he had married
+Alice Raymond, the only child of a wealthy merchant: she was but
+seventeen when he first saw her and fell in love with her. Few people
+knew whether the twelve short months of his married life were but as a
+dream to him now, eleven years later, or whether his scant allusions to
+that time came from a shy tenderness for a memory which was his dearest
+and most sacred possession. Alice Raymond was but little past eighteen
+when she died, and even the child she left behind her had never really
+belonged to Mr. Floyd, but had grown up at her grandfather's at The
+Headlands while her father had assumed the duties of a mission abroad.
+Life had denied him little of what men seek as objects in a brilliant
+and exciting career; but in listening to him now I felt a certainty that
+he had been a lonely man, and, if not an unhappy one, that his mind was
+tinged at least with a certain melancholy which lay at the root of all
+his impulses.
+
+My mother seemed to have grown younger in meeting him. She was always
+the most beautiful of women to me, with her large, serious brown eyes,
+her wavy brown hair, her complexion pure and delicate as a young girl's;
+and indeed she was but twenty years older than myself, thus at this date
+only thirty-four. But while she talked to Mr. Floyd I observed a change
+in her: her eyes had lost their pensiveness and calm, and fell before
+his shyly: the flushes came and went on her cheeks. He told her again
+and again that in meeting her he found the first realization that he had
+come back to his home: old Mr. Raymond had seemed to be afraid of him,
+and little Helen had cried with terror when he first clasped her in his
+arms and kissed her with unguarded fondness.
+
+"But that was not strange," observed my mother. "Intimate affection is,
+after all, a habit. Now that you have a chance of having your little
+girl always with you, she will very soon grow fond of you."
+
+"Oh, but I have no claim to her. She must stay with Mr. Raymond as long
+as he lives, I suppose. He loved Alice, but he worships Helen. I robbed
+him of his child once almost against his will, and now that he is so old
+a man I could not have the heart to do it again."
+
+"But she is your own daughter!" cried my mother, half indignantly.
+
+"But I made my mistake ten years ago. Just then I only cared for what
+lay beneath a fresh grave at The Headlands: there seemed to be no
+to-morrow for me--no time when I should get used to such sorrow and find
+comfort in any one or anything that took Alice's place. I gave up Helen
+then with absolute indifference: now such coldness seems enigmatical to
+me."
+
+"You ought to have her with you now."
+
+"It could not be. I asked her this morning if she would come with me:
+she burst into a passion of weeping, and declared she could not leave
+her grandfather--that he would die without her; and I verily believe
+that he would. Well! well! I have got along for ten years without
+happiness. I have a career, while Mr. Raymond, millionaire though he is,
+has nothing but Helen. If only my health does not altogether fail!"
+
+"You are not ill, James?"
+
+"The doctors tell me that I have three incurable diseases," returned Mr.
+Floyd, laughing. "Then I took cold the moment I landed in this horrible
+climate. I perfectly realize the truth of the Psalmist, who declares
+that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Physicians dote upon me: I
+am an admirable field of research. Some people have the ill taste to die
+without any preliminaries, but I shall not give occasion for any painful
+surprise. Still, I only tell you this that you may make the most of me.
+Let me hear about yourself, Mary. If you only knew how often I have
+thought of you shut away here from the world in this wretched country
+place, nothing near you not utterly foreign to your tastes and your
+circles of thought!"
+
+My mother's hand stole into mine, and she met my jealous glance and
+smiled into my face. "Cousin James does not know what good times we
+have, does he, Floyd?" said she.
+
+"I forgot for one moment your consolations," said Mr. Floyd. "I saw your
+boy's mates when I came in: one of them has a powerful face: he looks
+like a youthful Cato."
+
+"That is Jack Holt," I cried. "He _is_ like Cato: he is strong, severe,
+just. Whatever he says ought to be done we know must be done, even if
+the heavens fall."
+
+"And the handsome fellow, who is he? Harry Dart? He looks equal to the
+heroism of all Plutarch's heroes: he has a beautiful, consecrated face.
+I hope he will live up to what it tells us now."
+
+Glad and proud although I was to see Mr. Floyd, his coming disturbed me
+a little. Hitherto I had accepted my life unquestioningly. We had been
+poor ever since my father's death, and my mother's life had become
+circumscribed and narrowed down to Belfield. It had seemed to me that no
+other people in the world were just so happy as my mother and myself.
+What need had we of a larger house, when the one stately mansion that I
+was familiar with appeared to me a desert, even with all its fairy-land
+splendors? Jack Holt's father was too rich a man not to allow his wife
+all the good things which she coveted, and her parlors, halls and
+bedrooms were irrefragable proof of the enormities which may be
+committed with an utter want of taste and tens of thousands of dollars.
+Both Harry and Jack hated the house, and spent every available moment
+out of school in our comfortable, well-worn nooks inside and out of
+doors. My mother used to play to us at twilight, and sing sweet ballads
+which gave us a state of mind full of the blessed misery which youth
+loves. Then what gay little waltzes used to rattle off from my mother's
+fingers! She taught us all to dance, and in the winter dusk we would
+waltz in turn with Georgy Lenox, the two of us who could not have her as
+a partner circling with our arms about each other's less slender waists.
+Then the feasts my mother used to cook for us with her own clever hands
+have made the greatest banquets seem poor since: she had the gift of
+performing every feminine task better than any other woman in the world.
+In short, I had lived the life which undoubtedly comes to many a lad who
+has no father: my mother appeared to have no thought but of me and my
+happiness, and not one of my dreams of far-reaching happiness but
+included her. I realized enough of the exquisite worth of her devotion
+to me never to cross her wishes: an invisible yet insurmountable barrier
+separated me from any of the grosser faults of boyhood, for she never
+let me go from her without her kiss, the clasp of her hand, and her
+saying, "You will be a good boy, Floyd?"
+
+Yes, I had been perfectly happy; and, as I say, it disturbed me to have
+a doubt suggested that this full, complete existence of mine had not
+filled my mother's heart as well. Belfield--merely writing the word
+"Belfield" has a breezy influence over my mind still. Wherever a man has
+spent his boyhood there linger associations of the cool wind of the
+hill-top, the sound of the sea audible yet invisible, the hush before a
+storm, the tumbling of the ice in the river in the spring freshets, the
+berries that grew on the edge of the wood, the ecstatic thrill of
+physical strength and delight on the playground where he ran "drinking
+in the wind of his own speed." But youth is the season not alone of
+action, but of reverie. Most of our original thinking is done before we
+are sixteen: after that we acquire so much of other men's experience
+that our thoughts wear the current stamp. We come into our rich
+inheritance of the world's accumulated knowledge, and evolve from it the
+answers to the necessities of our own individual development. As boys we
+were not cribbed by any exact logic and hard common sense, which must
+stretch us a little later on a Procrustean bed, and we were free to grow
+as we would and to stand on the highest level of noble thought and
+heroic deed. The writers whom we read with avidity were those who
+ennobled us: in those days youth was the era of a high romanticism, and
+our authors did not enter the actual world which lay about us, giving us
+pictures of real life, and with devilish ingenuity teaching us to regard
+men's actions from the reverse side, and thus detect ignoble traits as
+the mainspring of human achievement.
+
+More than forty of us went to school together in the stiff white
+academy which stood on the hill surrounded by a quadrangle of straight
+poplars. We learned many things there--some from the grim old preceptor,
+some outside the walls. I had a volume of Plutarch, from which I used to
+read stories to the boys as we lay on the grassy slopes in the shade,
+and I often felt a tremor in my voice as I read. It seems to me
+sometimes that the youth of this day lose some of the grandeur which
+made our ideals. Our sons read "Oliver Optic" and the magazines, while
+we used to thrill over the grand words of the men who have ruled the
+world. Then my mother's teaching was simple, direct and wise, and had
+become incorporated in every action of my will and impulse of my heart.
+I was to love and obey my God, never to tell a lie, never to do a mean
+action, never to be disloyal to a friend nor unfair to a foe. Still, if
+Harry and I were tolerably good, one of the reasons which acted most
+powerfully to restrain us from committing faults was our wish to stand
+well with Jack: he never scolded, never gave advice, but if he were
+displeased with our conduct we could not eat or sleep. Once Harry
+committed a trifling error--to call it a wickedness seems a grotesque
+exaggeration now--and Jack did not like it.
+
+"Of course, Harry," he said coldly, "you can do as you please, but I am
+disappointed in you."
+
+Harry rushed out of doors, and could not be found all night: he slept on
+the turf beneath his cousin's window, and the rain drenched him and he
+took a violent cold.
+
+"You were foolish," observed Jack, smiling coldly.
+
+"But do you forgive me now?"
+
+"I forgive nothing: a bad action is a bad action. But I could not sleep
+when I did not know where you were: I got up and studied, for I was so
+tormented."
+
+But Jack was so equable, so gentle! There was never a trace of harshness
+in his treatment of us. Indeed, it was only in his unfailing rectitude
+that he surpassed us, for, our senior although he was, he could barely
+keep up in our classes. Harry was the quickest of the three, but with a
+mortal hatred of hard study: he had an easy capacity for mastering
+knowledge without tedious assiduity; and, as he was resolved to be a
+painter, he held all mental acquirements as subsidiary to his
+master-passion for gaining dexterity and skill with his pencil. He could
+have done anything at his books had he expended any high endeavor, but
+he always let his chances slip by him, and allowed me to carry off the
+prizes which he might far more easily have won. I was by nature and
+habit rigidly conscientious, and discontented with myself unless I did
+my best. I hated cheap successes, and I was shy of praise, as my
+performances always fell short of my ideals. Mine was no studious
+disposition, and I had plenty of physical inclination to shirk lessons
+and lie beneath the forest boughs watching the birds all day; but there
+were detached lines that I used to repeat to myself aloud over and over
+again in lonely places, caring far less for their meaning than for the
+immeasurable music of the words.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+I could write many chapters about our life at Belfield, and perhaps of
+all I have to tell nothing would be so well worth telling. Belfield is a
+quiet place on the shore of Long Island Sound, placidly sleeping through
+the summers and autumns beneath the shadows of its immemorial trees. We
+went to school on the hill: below us was our ancient church built in
+far-off colonial times, and connected with many a story of Revolutionary
+times, to which we used to listen greedily: George Lenox had one of
+which we never tired.
+
+"My grandfather," said he, "went to church the Sunday after the
+proclamation of the Declaration of Independence, and when the clergyman
+read the prayers for the royal family he stood up in his pew and cried
+out that no such prayers must be read in Belfield--that George III.'s
+name was no longer the name of our friend, but of our worst enemy. The
+minister rose and shut up his prayer-book forthwith, raised his hand and
+pronounced the benediction, and the church was closed until the end of
+the war. We were good Federalists, we were," continued Mr. Lenox, "but
+we had one staunch Tory and Churchman in our family. After the church
+was closed my grandfather's family used to attend Presbyterian meeting
+on the hill, close by where your schoolhouse now stands; but their old
+dog, Duke, would never go past the church when he followed his master
+out on Sunday mornings: he would not go to Presbyterian meeting--not he:
+he stretched himself on the great millstone before the closed
+church-door."
+
+When Jack, Harry and I sat together on the high "back seat" at school we
+had a good view down the hill at the weather-stained old church, with
+its imperishable gilt vane on top of the tall spire. Often enough our
+vagrant eyes wandered that way, but not that we cared for green slopes
+or colonial church or venerable weathercock. The truth of the matter
+was, that we oftentimes saw Georgy Lenox walking along the quiet street
+under the elms. To tell of our early life in Belfield, and say nothing
+of the influence which was already moulding the lives of at least two of
+us, would be to give an incomplete and partial picture. I was an
+imaginative boy, and Jack was the reverse, yet we were both desperately
+in love with the same girl. As for Harry, nobody ever decided what he
+felt toward her. They continually quarrelled when they were together,
+and Harry sometimes took pains to abuse her in her absence: he never
+read of an unworthy trait in a woman but he at once pointed its meaning
+at her. He called us "spoons," etc. for caring about her, yet, all the
+same, she must have been invested with an endless store of associations
+in his mind, for his portfolio was full of sketches of her; which seemed
+to furnish his ideals of feminine beauty. She was not only Rowena, but
+Rebecca as well (with only a change of complexion), Helen of Troy and
+Joan of Arc, Cleopatra and the Madonna, Marie Stuart and Elizabeth
+Tudor. Still, Jack and I each felt that he was not one with us in his
+devotion to her, and we made no confidences to him respecting her. For
+Jack and I talked about her incessantly when we were together: when we
+saw her in the street below us we nudged each other, and together felt
+the thrill, the inextinguishable rapture, of beholding the sunny gleam
+of her golden hair and her quick, graceful gait.
+
+We were not rivals. I do not know how the thought of her came to Jack in
+those early days, but he had a habit of decision, and I dare say had
+made up his mind that she was to be his wife. He had plenty of
+pocket-money, and could buy her trinkets, ribbons and gloves: I had no
+money, and my tribute to her was of flowers and fruits. It was natural
+to both of us to offer her all we could; and it was equally natural to
+her to receive our largesse with a smile and laughing thanks if it
+pleased her, and a cool, indifferent shrug of contempt if it failed to
+suit her.
+
+I carried the thought of her into all my occupations. Were I planting my
+mother's flower-beds, were I writing my composition, it was all the
+same: the question was, "Will it please Georgy?" Not that it mattered;
+and I well knew that I was a fool for it all, for she was steadily
+indifferent to any matters in which she had no personal concern, and
+despised my pains with scant ceremony. I too held in contempt my small
+efforts to please her, and fell a-dreaming of the wonderful things I was
+sure to do some time. Not that she was slow in telling us what she
+wanted, and her demands upon us were not of the sort that appertain to
+heroic achievements; yet I felt, all the same, that let me once be a
+hero I must win her approbation. I can remember her sitting in our
+garden at home under the laburnums, with the greenery making a
+background for her fresh girl-face. From her babyhood her beauty had
+been remarked, and at ten years old she was as used to compliments as an
+old woman of the world. Mrs. Lenox had long since resigned expectation
+for herself, but she was not yet too hopeless to indulge in passionate
+belief of a brilliant future for her daughter; and when I used to
+listen to the gorgeous day-dreams of the two, I felt dejectedly that my
+own most radiant visions were by comparison the offspring of a lifeless
+and gloomy fancy. There was nothing problematical or idealistic in their
+ideas of a happy destiny. What they wanted was, in the first place,
+money; in the second place, money; thirdly and finally, money. I doubt
+whether Mrs. Lenox ever resigned herself to the sway of fiction or
+poetry, but I am sure that had she studied Shakespeare she would have
+thought Iago's advice to Roderigo shrewdly comprised the worth of all
+aspiration. She and Georgy longed for dress, jewels and laces; great
+houses panelled with mirrors and carpeted with velvet; magnificence and
+pomp and circumstance about their every-day life; horses, carriages,
+invitations, theatres, operas,--all the pleasures which throng toward
+people with lined pockets and idle lives. Their wants were innumerable,
+their taste and fancy a harp of a thousand strings upon which caprice
+and vanity could play an endless variety of tunes. Mrs. Lenox had once
+enjoyed the luxuries she still coveted so ardently, yet Georgy, who had
+never known wealth, or even the easy-assured comforts of life, had
+instinctively the keener perception of the two for the worth of costly
+surroundings and possessions. No princess who had breathed perfumes all
+her life, trod on velvet and been served on gold and silver, could have
+felt a more vital necessity for luxury than Georgy, who had always lived
+among shabby things and known few but shabby people. She was born with
+the looks, manners and tastes of what we call an aristocrat, and her
+mother worshipped these traits in her. When one day she flung away her
+dinner because it was not to her liking, and went out of doors and
+pulled the peaches ripening against the wall, and ate them instead, Mrs.
+Lenox felt that such fastidiousness foreshadowed a destiny more than
+common. For her to tear her hats to pieces and cut her dress or apron in
+shreds because they did not suit her was a frequent caprice, and one we
+had all laughed at again and again--except Jack, who was thrifty by
+nature and respected the worth of things like a sensible economist. It
+was generally he, however, who replaced the ruined garments, and by the
+time he was sixteen he had attained quite a nice taste in millinery from
+his frequent purchases for Georgy. Mrs. Lenox always had a fit of
+weeping when such presents came and were displayed by Georgy as
+trophies, for she was still too proud not to be cut deeply by every
+fresh humiliation; but her belief in her daughter's future carried her
+through the present, and she pacified her scruples in regard to her
+course with Jack or anybody else who made outlay for her daughter by
+remembering that all such services would be balanced by and by when the
+natural order of things had been restored.
+
+All in Belfield knew both Mrs. Lenox and Georgy so well--their history,
+the miserable shortcomings of their home, the girl's scanty education
+both of intellect and morals--that we could but attribute their faults
+to sheer worldliness combined with the evils of their bitter poverty.
+Jack and myself, at least, with the most meagre excuse readily forgave
+Georgy everything. She was so beautiful, so radiant in all the phases of
+her dingy life, so good-natured even in her contempt of our stupidity
+and dulness, so eager to find enjoyment in everything, that we were
+willing to accept all her faults with her charms, to love her
+idolatrously, and blame ourselves for harshness if we were momentarily
+angry with the lovely creature.
+
+We had all, even Georgy, been reasonably happy in Belfield until Mr.
+Floyd and Antonio Thorpe came. My guardian's influence I will speak of
+later, for it touched only myself perhaps; but Tony's was felt more or
+less by us all. He widened our horizons at once, and, as usual, enlarged
+our imaginations at the expense of our belief in ourselves. We were not
+used exactly to be complimented on our ignorance of the world, but in
+Belfield habits of thought tended toward a pleasant conviction of the
+uselessness of all knowledge and experience that our best inhabitants
+did not happen to possess. Until Tony came we were in the habit of
+deploring the fate of people who were not born and brought up in
+Belfield. Almost the entire population were descendants of the original
+proprietors of the soil, and we had our own ideas about our first
+families. Thorpe's views, however, were not flattering: he was, in fact,
+one of those elegant young men whose innermost souls are penetrated with
+convictions of the inadequacy of intellects in general to appreciate
+theirs in particular.
+
+Both Jack and I passed sleepless nights at first, wretched at the
+thought of his sleeping beneath the same roof with Georgy Lenox--of his
+enjoying that mystical, beautiful experience of coming down every
+morning to find her at table with her hair freshly curled, to enjoy the
+felicity of passing her eggs and toast, to carve a slice for her from
+the joint which the welcome addition of the young man's payment for
+board allowed Mrs. Lenox to provide for her dinner. Then, too, we felt
+with a pang that he would receive with his unequalled grace all sorts of
+little services from the daughter of the house: she would pour his tea
+for him, counting the lumps of sugar and dropping cream upon them in the
+distracting way we knew; she would amuse him with her sweet-voiced
+chatter. He was so old, so handsome with his velvety eyes and his
+moustache, she might even fall in love with him. However, Georgy was not
+given to sentiment, and Tony, for his part, was utterly indifferent to
+her: indeed, the most exclusive circles in Belfield opened to him at
+once, for a young man with a moustache was a _rara avis_ there, the
+masculine element in the village falling short of social requirements,
+as its representatives were generally either in their first or second
+childhood. But the only intimacy he cultivated was with me and my
+mother: he criticised everybody else, and it was evident that he
+considered nothing in Belfield quite good enough for him.
+
+"What a great man my master is!" says the French valet: "nothing suits
+him." And it must be confessed that the valet's state of mind
+concerning his master much resembled ours regarding Thorpe. At every
+woman in the place except my mother he levelled trenchant sarcasms: the
+men, he declared, possessed every trait which could shock or weary a man
+of the world, and not only displeased his eyes, but were so foreign to
+his spheres of thought that he was obliged to ignore them. At the habits
+and customs of everybody alike he shrugged his shoulders, and we used to
+wonder to each other why so great a man stayed in Belfield at all. But
+he did us no harm, and it is not impossible that he did us good. He
+laughed freely at our provincialisms, accustomed us to take raillery
+good-naturedly, disillusionized us in many ways, and showed us always a
+pattern of polished and careful demeanor.
+
+He used to entertain us frequently--if I may use the word "entertain" to
+describe his indifferent toleration of us and his acceptance of such
+listeners in default of better--by a description of Mr. Raymond's place,
+"The Headlands," as it was usually called. He had been in the habit of
+spending a few days of his vacations there for years, and was in a
+position to enlighten Georgy about her distant cousin and mine, Helen
+Floyd, Mr. Raymond's probable heiress. Perhaps he liked to tease Georgy,
+yet it is possible that the little daughter of Mr. Floyd, growing up in
+the quiet, stately place, really possessed something already to arouse
+Tony's admiration for a child ten years old; but he would dwell upon her
+beauty, her brilliant prospects in the future and the grandeur of her
+present possessions, until Georgy was enraged with him. The train was
+perhaps already laid in the mind of the young girl which led up to a
+magazine of hatred and anger against more successful mortals, and needed
+but a chance spark to light it. She made a rival of little Helen Floyd
+at once, and every action of her life became infused with ambitious
+desires to surpass her in some way. She besieged me with questions
+concerning my guardian, his ideas, views, tastes and habits, and beset
+me feverishly to use my influence to get her invited to The Headlands.
+
+Mr. Floyd's visits became more and more frequent as the summer advanced,
+and I began with some jealousy to notice a growing change in my mother.
+In former times she had shown an exquisite poise of strength and peace
+in every phase of her life, but of late she seemed possessed with a sort
+of girlish fluttering and disquiet: her eyes were dreamy and her voice
+softer and less decided in its inflexions, and her manner to me, instead
+of continuing its old noble habits of command, became timid and
+caressing, as if she were anxious to propitiate me. In the evenings,
+instead of sitting among us boys on the piazza, she would leave us and
+walk by herself under the laburnums in the garden; and if I followed her
+and put my arm about her, I found, with vague pain and rebellion at my
+heart, that although she amply responded to my tenderness, she had sweet
+and sacred thoughts that she was smiling over all by herself. It had
+been her wont to busy herself with housekeeping cares from morning until
+night: our income was small, and she was very busy, for she gave thought
+to everything and decided wisely upon the smallest matter. In these
+duties she had found pleasant occupation apparently: she had shown no
+fatigue, had marred nothing by impatience or over-haste--had judiciously
+studied how to manage every detail of our lives. Now all at once there
+seemed a little lassitude upon her: she left all questions concerning
+the housekeeping for her domestic, Ann, to decide; she would drop her
+sewing in her lap and fall into reverie, her cheeks crimsoning, her eyes
+growing dark and misty, and emerge into reality presently with a
+beautiful trembling smile on her lips. I grudged her those reveries and
+those smiles: I quaked at the thought that her heart was turning toward
+Mr. Floyd, much as I loved and venerated him. I knew that she had
+worshipped my father, and I wanted her to carry that one feeling supreme
+to the end of her days. _Cet age est sans pitie_. I realized nothing of
+the preciousness of those impulses which were quickening her again into
+happy youth: I realized nothing of her having been lonely--nothing of
+the pain and passion of longing which must have tried her through these
+eight years of widowhood, without any companionship save mine, with such
+cruel silence when she had been used to every tenderness, to constant
+loving flatteries, to gentlest ministrations--or I hope I should not so
+bitterly have resented this new hope of hers which made her almost
+afraid to look me in the face.
+
+When Mr. Floyd did not come he wrote frequently to my mother. I used to
+bring his letters to her with a swelling heart and bitter tears in my
+eyes; but she knew nothing of those tears, for she never looked up, nor
+when she took the letters did she read them before me. He wrote
+frequently to me as well as to her, but while her envelopes covered
+numerous well-filled pages, his notes to me were adorned with just one
+degree more ample verbiage than we use in a telegram.
+
+But nothing was said between us until one night early in September. It
+was a rainy evening, but so warm that both doors and windows stood wide
+open, and we heard the faint pattering music of the swift succeeding
+showers mingled with the monotonous chant of the katydids. My mother sat
+at the table with a pretence of work in her hands, but I saw that she
+trembled so much that she could not draw the thread. I had brought her
+in a letter at seven o'clock directed in Mr. Floyd's fine cramped
+handwriting, and I too had a note from him. My mother had taken hers
+from me with a devouring blush, and as if to hide it had thrust it
+beneath a pile of cambric ruffles on the table.
+
+Her look and manner had made me turn almost sick with pain, for it
+seemed to me she no longer loved or trusted me. I had lost everything, I
+told myself with profound dreariness. I laid my own letter from Mr.
+Floyd open in her lap without a word. It ran thus:
+
+"MY DEAR BOY: I have had a trying week: Helen has been at the point of
+death, and that she is now convalescent fills me with gratitude to God
+too great for words. I think she would have died if I had not been here.
+As soon as she is well I want you to spend a few weeks at The Headlands:
+you need the change, and my little girl needs a friend. Love to your
+dear mother and for yourself.
+
+"JAMES FLOYD."
+
+But although my mother took up the letter, something seemed to blind
+her: she could not read it, and put it by and resumed her work. We spent
+an hour in complete silence.
+
+"We are very dull," she said at last, looking over at me with a little
+trembling smile. "Have you nothing to tell me, Floyd?"
+
+"Why do you not read your letter, mother?"
+
+"Oh, Floyd!" she cried, "it seems to me you are a little hard and cruel
+to me of late."
+
+"Read your letter, mother, and mine too. If it is impossible for you to
+open a letter from Cousin James before me, I will leave the room."
+
+She obeyed me, calmly taking her missive out from its hiding-place,
+opening it and reading it through: then she handed it to me with her old
+habit of command: "I wish you to read it, my boy."
+
+I did so: it was just as I had thought. Mr. Floyd loved her: he had
+spoken of his feelings many times, and was waiting for her answer.
+
+"Poor little Helen!" said my mother tenderly. "I am so thankful she is
+better! You will like to go to The Headlands, Floyd? 'Tis a beautiful
+place: your father and I attended Cousin James's wedding there. I
+remember still how superb and stately the place was."
+
+"I do not feel as if I ever wanted to do anything any more, mother."
+
+She gave me a piteous glance, and her hands locked and unlocked as they
+lay together in her lap.
+
+"I used to think you loved me, mother," I blurted out.
+
+In another moment she had me in her arms. There was no more doubt
+between us: she had given him up, and our old sweet, strong comradeship
+returned.
+
+ELLEN W. OLNEY.
+
+[TO BE CONTINUED.]
+
+
+
+
+THE WASHER AT THE WELL: A BRETON LEGEND.
+
+
+    Nigh a league to the castle still:
+      _Twelve_! booms the bell from the old clock-tower.
+    Now, brave mare, for the stretch up the hill,
+      Then just a gallop of half an hour.
+
+    Half an hour, and home and rest!
+      Is she watching for him on the oriel stair,
+    Or cradling the babe on her silken breast
+      In the hush of the drowsy chamber there?
+
+    Hola! steady, good Bonnibelle!
+      Scared at the wind, or the owlet's flight?
+    Ha! what stirs by the Washing Well?
+      Who goes there at the dead of night?
+
+    Over the stream below the slope,
+      Where the women wash their webs at noon,
+    A form like a shadow seems to grope,
+      Doubtful under the doubtful moon.
+
+    Good mother, your task is late and lone.
+      All goes well at the castle? say!--
+    Not a word speaks the withered crone,
+      Gray as a ghost in the moonlight gray.
+
+    Stone-still over the running stream,
+      Steadily, swiftly, round and round,
+    Plying her web through gloom and gleam,
+      Out and in, with never a sound--
+
+    Never a sound save the blasted oak
+      That shakes in the wind, and the bubbling well:
+    This is no face of the peasant-folk!--
+      With the sign of the cross he bars the spell.
+
+    Slowly, slowly she turns about:
+      Oh the creeping horror that chokes his breath
+    As slowly she draws the linen out,
+      And fashions its folds in guise of death--
+
+    Long and loose like a winding-sheet!
+      So sharp he pulls at the bridle-rein
+    The mare stands straight on her trembling feet
+      Before she cowers to the ground again.
+
+    Now he knows, with a shudder of dread,
+      The Ghost of the Well he has looked upon
+    Washing the shroud for some one dead--
+      Some one dear to him, dead and gone!
+
+    Well and washer and funeral-pall
+      Swim under his sight in pale eclipse.
+    The good God send that the shroud be small!--
+      He bites the words in his bloodless lips.
+
+    Over the lonely moor alone,
+      Praying a prayer for the dearest life,
+    Stifling a cry for the dead unknown,
+      Child or wife: is it child or wife?
+
+    Over the threshold and up the stair,
+      And into the hush of the deathly room,
+    To a motionless form in the midnight there
+      Under the tapers' glimmering gloom;
+
+    And the babe on her bosom--child and wife!
+      Child and wife! and his journey done.
+    Hark! overhead, with a sullen strife,
+      The bell in the old clock-tower booms--_One!_
+
+KATE PUTNAM OSGOOD.
+
+
+
+
+THE REAL PRISONER OF CHILLON: A GENTLEMAN GROSSLY MISREPRESENTED.
+
+[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF CHILLON.]
+
+
+"A character more celebrated than known" is Francis Bonivard, prior of
+St. Victor and Prisoner of Chillon. It is not by any intentional
+imposture on his part that he goes stalking through modern literature
+disguised in the character of hero, saint and martyr, and shouting in a
+hoarse chest-voice his "appeal from tyranny to God." In fact, if he
+could be permitted to revisit his cherished little shelf of books about
+which has grown the ample library of the University of Geneva, and view
+the various delineations of himself by artist, poet, and even serious
+historian, it would be delightful to witness his comical astonishment.
+Perhaps it is not to be laid to the fault of Lord Byron, who after
+visiting the old castle and its dungeon beguiled the hours of a rainy
+day at the inn at Ouchy with writing a poem concerning which he frankly
+confesses that he had not the slightest knowledge of its hero. Hobhouse,
+his companion, ought to have been better informed, but was not. If
+anybody is to blame, it is the recent writers, who do know the facts,
+but are unwilling to hurt so fine an heroic figure or to dethrone "one
+of the demigods of the liberal mythology." Enough to say that the Muse
+of History has been guilty of one of those practical jokes to which she
+is too much addicted, in dressing with tragic buskins and muffling in
+the cloak of a hero of melodrama, and so palming off for earnest on two
+generations of mankind, the drollest wag of the sixteenth century.
+
+A wild young fellow like Bonivard, with a lively appreciation of the
+ridiculous, could not fail to see the comic aspect of the fate which
+invested him with the spiritual and temporal authority and emoluments
+of the priory of St. Victor. This was a rich little Benedictine
+monastery just outside the eastern gate of Geneva, on the little knoll
+now crowned by the observatory, surrounded with walls and moat of its
+own, independent of the bishop of Geneva in spiritual matters, and in
+temporal affairs equally independent of the city: in fact, it was a
+petty sovereignty by itself, and its dozen of hearty, well-provided
+monks, though nominally under the rule of Cluny, were a law to
+themselves, and not a very rigid one either. The office of prior, by
+virtue of a little arrangement at Rome, descended to Bonivard from his
+uncle, immediately upon whose demise the young potentate of twenty-one
+took upon him the state and functions of his office in a way to show the
+monks of St. Victor that they had no King Log to deal with. The document
+is still extant, in the Latin of the period, in which Prior Bonivard
+ordains that every new brother at his initiation shall not only stand
+treat all round, but shall, at his own cost and charges, furnish every
+one of his brethren with a new cap. Another document of equal gravity
+makes new ordinances concerning the convent-kitchen, which seems to have
+been one of the good prior's most religious cares.[6] Not only his own
+subjects, but those of other jurisdictions, were made to feel the
+majesty of his sovereign authority. He would let them know that he had
+"just as much jurisdiction at St. Victor as the duke of Savoy had at
+Chambery." He heard causes, sentenced to prison, even received
+ambassadors from his brother the duke, but not without looking sharply
+at their credentials. If these were wanting, the unfortunate wretches
+were threatened with the gallows as spies, and when they had been
+thoroughly frightened the monarch would indulge himself in the exercise
+of the sweetest prerogative of royalty, the pardoning power, and, when
+it was considered that the majesty of the state had been sufficiently
+asserted, would wind up with asking the whole company to dinner.
+
+[Illustration: FRANCOIS BONIVARD, "THE PRISONER OF CHILLON."
+
+[From an old print in the Public Library of Geneva, never before
+copied.]]
+
+It had been considered a clever stroke of policy, at a time when the
+dukes of Savoy and the bishops of Geneva, who agreed in nothing else,
+were plotting, together or separately, to capture and extinguish the
+immemorial liberties of the brave little free city, to get this
+fortified outpost before its very gate officered by a brilliant and
+daring young Savoyard gentleman, who would be bound to the duke by his
+nativity and to the Church by his office, and to both by his interests.
+To the dismay of bishop and duke, it appeared that the young prior, who
+had led a gay life of it at the University of Turin, had nevertheless
+read his classics to some purpose, and had come back with his head full
+of Plato and Plutarch and Livy and of theories of republican liberty. So
+that by putting him into St. Victor they had turned that little
+stronghold from an outpost of attack upon Geneva liberties into the
+favorite resort and rendezvous of all the young liberal leaders of that
+gay but gallant little republic, who found themselves irresistibly drawn
+to young Bonivard, partly as a republican and still more as a jolly good
+fellow.
+
+The first manifestation of his sympathies in that direction occurred soon
+after his installation as prior. His uncle on his deathbed had confessed
+to young Francis the burden on his conscience in that he had taken Church
+money and applied it to the making of a battery of culverins wherewith to
+levy war against one of his neighbors in the country; and bequeathed to
+his nephew the convent and the culverins, with the charge to melt down the
+latter into a chime of church-bells which should atone for his evil deeds.
+Not long after, Bonivard was telling the story to his friend Berthelier,
+the daring and heroic leader of the "Sons of Geneva" in their perilous
+struggle against tyranny, when the latter exclaimed, "What! spoil good
+cannon to make bells? Never! Give us the guns, and you shall have old
+metal to make bells enough to split your ears. But let guns be guns. So
+the Church will be doubly served. There will be chimes at St. Victor and
+guns in Geneva, which is a Church city." The bargain was struck, as a vote
+in the records of the city council shows to this day. But it was the
+beginning of a quarrel with the duke of Savoy which was to cost Bonivard
+more than he had counted on. There was reckless deviltry enough among all
+these young liberals, but some of them--not Bonivard--were capable of
+seriously counting the cost of their game. On one occasion--it was at the
+christening of Berthelier's child, and Bonivard was godfather--Berthelier
+took his friend aside from the guests and said, "It is time we had done
+with dancing and junketing and organized for the defence of
+liberty."--"All right!" said the prior. "Come on, and may the Lord prosper
+our crazy schemes!" Berthelier took his hand, and with a serious look that
+sobered the rattle-headed ecclesiastic for a moment, replied, "But let me
+warn you that this is going to cost you your living and me my head."--"I
+have heard him say this a hundred times," says Bonivard in his
+_Chronicles_. The dungeon at Chillon and the mural tablet in the Tour de
+l'Isle at Geneva tell how truly the prophecy was fulfilled.
+
+There was so little of the strut of the stage-hero about Bonivard that
+he could not be comfortable in doing a chivalrous thing without a joke
+to take off the gloss of it. Before the ducal party had quite given up
+hopes of him there was a serious affair on their hands--the need of
+putting out of the way by such means, treacherous and atrocious, as the
+Savoyards of that day loved to use, one of the noblest of the Geneva
+magistrates, Aime Levrier. An emissary of the duke, of high rank,
+kinsman to Bonivard, came to St. Victor and offered the prior
+magnificent inducements to aid in the plot. With a gravity that must
+have convulsed the spectators if there had been any, Bonivard pointed to
+his monastic gown, his prayer-book and his crucifix, and pleaded his
+deep sense of the sacredness of his office as a reason for having
+nothing to do with the affair. "Then," says his kinsman, rising in
+wrath, "I will do the business myself. I'll have Levrier out of his bed
+and over in Savoy this very night."--"Do you really mean it, uncle? Give
+me your hand!"--"Then you consent, after all, to help me in the
+matter?"--"Oh no, uncle: that isn't it. But I know these Genevese are a
+hasty sort of folk, and I am just going to raise thirty florins to be
+spent in saying masses to-morrow for the repose of your soul." Before
+the evening was over, Bonivard found an opportunity of slipping in
+disguise over to the house of Levrier and giving a hint of what was
+intended: the notes of preparation for resistance that Berthelier and
+his friends began at once to make wrought upon the excited nerves of the
+ambassador and his armed retinue to such a point that they were fain to
+escape from the town by a secret gate before daylight.
+
+The affair of his rescue of Pecolat is another illustration of his
+character and of the strange, turbulent age in which he lived; and it
+went far to embitter the hatred of the duke and the bishop against him.
+This poor fellow was the jester, song-singer and epigrammatist of the
+madcap patriots who were associated under the title of "Sons of Geneva."
+Under a trumped-up charge of plotting the death of the bishop he was
+kidnapped and carried away to one of the castles in the neighborhood,
+and there tortured until a false confession was wrung from him
+implicating Berthelier and others. To secure his condemnation to death
+he was brought back into the city and presented before the court; but
+the sight of the poor cripple, racked and bruised with recent tortures,
+and his steadfastness in recanting his late confession, wrought more
+with the judges than the fear of the duke, and he was acquitted. But the
+feeble and ferocious bishop, moved partly by malignity and partly, no
+doubt, by sincere and cowardly terror, was resolved to kill him; and by
+some fiction declaring him to have been in the minor orders, he clapped
+him into the bishop's prison, claiming to try him by ecclesiastical law.
+The story of renewed tortures inflicted on their helpless comrade, and
+their knowledge of the certain death that awaited him, stirred the blood
+of the patriots of Geneva. It was just the moment for the prior of St.
+Victor to show that the studies at Freiburg and Turin that had made him
+_doctor utriusque juris_ had not been in vain. He would fight the bishop
+with his own weapon of Church law. He despatched Pecolat's own brother
+with letters to the archbishop of Vienne, metropolitan to the bishop of
+Geneva, and, using his family influence, which was not small, he secured
+a summons to the bishop and chapter of Geneva to appear before the
+archiepiscopal court and give account of the affair, and meanwhile to
+cease all proceedings against the prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: THE DUNGEON OF BONIVARD.]
+
+It was comparatively easy to procure the summons. The difficulty was to
+find some one competent to the functions of episcopal usher and bold
+enough to serve it. Bonivard bethought him of a "caitiff wretch"--an
+obscure priest--to whom he handed the document with two round dollars
+lying on it, and bade him hand the paper to the bishop at mass the next
+day in the cathedral. The starving clergyman hesitated long between his
+fears and his necessities, but finally promised to do the work on
+condition that the prior should stand by him in person and see him
+through. The hour approached, and the commissioner's courage was oozing
+rapidly away. His knees knocked together, and he slipped back in the
+crowd, hoping to escape. The vigilant prior darted after him, seized
+him, and laying his hand on the dagger that he wore under his robe
+whispered in his ear, "Do it or I'll stab you!" He adds, in his
+_Chronicles_, "I should have been as good as my word: I do not say it by
+way of boasting. I know I was acting like a fool, but I was quite beside
+myself with anxiety for my friend." Happily, there was no need of
+extreme measures. He gripped his terrified victim by the thumb, and as
+the procession moved toward the church-door he thrust the paper into his
+hand, saying, "Now's the time! You've got to do it." And all the time he
+held him fast by the thumb. The bishop came near, and Bonivard let go
+the wretch's thumb and pushed him to the front, pointing to the prelate
+and saying, "Do your work!" The bishop turned pale with terror of
+assassination as he heard the words. But the trembling clerk, not less
+terrified than the bishop, dropped on his knees and presented the
+archiepiscopal mandate, gasping out, "My lord, _inhibitur vobis, prout
+in copia_." Bonivard retreated into his inviolable sanctuary of St.
+Victor. "I was young enough and crazy enough," he says, "to fear neither
+bishop nor duke." He had saved poor Pecolat's life, although the work
+was not finished until the publication of an interdict from the
+metropolitan silencing every church-bell and extinguishing every
+altar-candle in the city had brought the bishop to terms.[7]
+
+It is a hardship to the writer to be compelled to retrench the story of
+the early deeds for liberty of Bonivard and his boon companions. There
+is a rollicking swagger about them all, which by and by begins to be
+sobered when it is seen that on the side of the oppressor there is
+_power_. By violence, by fraudulent promises, by foul treachery on the
+part of cowardly citizens, the duke of Savoy gains admittance with his
+army within the walls of Geneva, and begins his delicious and bloody
+revenge for the indignities that have been put upon his pretensions and
+usurpations. Berthelier, a very copy from the antique--a hero that might
+have stepped forth into the sixteenth century from the page of
+Plutarch[8]--remained in the town serenely to await the death which he
+foreknew. On the day of the duke's entrance Bonivard, who had no such
+relish for martyrdom for its own sake, put himself between two of his
+most trusted friends, the lord of Voruz and the abbot of Montheron of
+the Pays de Vaud, and galloped away disguised as a monk. "Come first to
+my convent," said the abbot, "and thence we will take you to a place of
+safety." The convent was reached, and in the morning Bonivard was
+greeted by his comrade Voruz, who came into his room, and, laying paper
+and pen before him, required him to write a renunciation of his priory
+in favor of the abbot of Montheron. Resistance was vain. He was a
+prisoner in the hands of traitors. The alternative being "Your priory or
+your life!" he frankly owns that he required no time at all to make up
+his choice. Voruz took the precious document, with the signature still
+wet, and went out, double locking the door behind him. His two friends
+turned him over to the custody of the duke, who locked him up for two
+years at Grolee, one of his castles down the Rhone, and put the honest
+abbot of Montheron in possession of the rich living of St. Victor.
+
+But Bonivard in his prison was less to be pitied than the citizens of
+Geneva who remained in their subjugated city. The two despots, the
+bishop and the duke, who had seized the unhappy town, combined to crush
+the gay and insubordinate spirit out of it. All this time, says
+Bonivard, "they imprisoned, they scourged, they tortured, they beheaded,
+they hung, so as it is pitiful to tell."
+
+Meanwhile, the influential family friends of Bonivard, some of them high
+in court favor, discovering that he was yet alive and in prison,
+bestirred themselves to procure his liberation; and not in vain, for the
+possession that had made him dangerous, the priory of St. Victor, having
+been wrested from him, there was little harm that he could do. His
+immediate successor in the priory, good Abbot de Montheron, had not
+indeed long enjoyed the benefice. He had gone on business to Rome,
+where certain Churchmen who admired his new benefice invited him (so
+Bonivard tells the story) to a banquet _more Romano_, and gave him a
+dose of the "cardinal powder," which operated so powerfully that it
+purged the soul right out of the body. He left a paper behind him in
+which, as a sign of remorse for his crime, he resigned all his rights in
+the priory back to Bonivard.[9] But the pope, whose natural affection
+toward his cousins and nephews overflowed freely in the form of gifts of
+what did not belong to him, bestowed the living on a cousin, who
+commuted it for an annual revenue of six hundred and forty gold
+crowns--a splendid revenue for those days--and poor Bonivard, whose sole
+avocation was that of gentleman, found it difficult to carry on that
+line of business with neither capital nor income. He came back, some
+five years later, into possession of the priory. They were five years of
+exciting changes, of fierce terrorism and oppression at Geneva, followed
+by a respite, a rallying of the spirit of the people, an actual recovery
+of some of the old rights of the city, and, presently, by the beginning
+of some signs of religious light coming from the direction of Germany.
+And the way in which Bonivard at last got reinstalled into his convent
+is curiously illustrative of the strange condition of society in those
+times. One May morning in 1527 the little town was all agog with strange
+news from Rome. The Eternal City had been taken by storm, sacked,
+pillaged, burned! The Roman bishop was prisoner to the Roman emperor, if
+indeed he was alive at all. In fact, there was a rumor--dreadful, no
+doubt, but attended by vast consolations--that the whole court of Rome
+had perished. Immediately there was a rush to the bishop's palace, and a
+scramble for the vacant livings in the diocese that had been held by
+absentees at Rome. The bishop, delighted at such a windfall of
+patronage, dispensed his favors right and left, not forgetting, says
+Bonivard, to reserve something comfortable for himself in the shape of
+a fat convent that had been held by a cardinal. This was Bonivard's
+opportunity, and, times and the bishop having changed, he got back once
+more into his cherished quarters as prior of St. Victor. The convent was
+there, and the friars, but the estates that had been wont to keep them
+all right royally were mostly in the hands of the duke and his minions.
+It is in the effort to recover these that Bonivard shines out in his
+most magnificent character, that of military hero. The campaign of
+Cartigny includes the most memorable of his feats of arms.
+
+Cartigny was an estate about six miles down the left bank of the Rhone
+from Geneva, appertaining to St. Victor. "It was a chastel of
+pleasaunce, not a forteresse," says our hero, who is the Homer of his
+own brave deeds. But the duke kept a garrison there, and to every demand
+the prior made for his place he replied that he did not dare give it up
+for fear of being excommunicated by the pope. Rent-time came, and the
+Savoyard government enjoined the tenants not to pay to the prior.
+Whereupon that potentate declared that, being refused civil justice, he
+"fell back on the law of nations."
+
+The military resources of his realm were limited. He counted ten
+able-bodied subjects, but they were monks and not liable to service. The
+culverins of his uncle were gone, but he had six muskets--a loan from
+the city--and there were four pounds of powder in the magazine. But this
+was not of itself sufficient for a war against the duke of Savoy. He
+must subsidize mercenaries.
+
+About this time there chanced to be at Geneva a swashbuckler from Berne,
+Bischelbach by name, by trade a butcher, who had found the new regime of
+the Reformers at that city too strait-laced for his tastes and habits,
+and had come to Geneva, with some vagabonds at his heels, in search of
+adventures and a livelihood. Him did the prior of St. Victor, greatly
+impressed with his own accounts of his powers, commission as
+generalissimo of the forces. Second in command he set a priest, likewise
+just thrown out of business by the Reformation in the North; and in a
+council of war the plan of campaign was determined. But before the
+actual clash of arms began the solemn preliminaries usual between
+hostile powers must be scrupulously fulfilled. A herald was commissioned
+to make proclamation in the name of the lord of St. Victor, through all
+the lands of Cartigny, that no man should venture to execute there any
+orders, whether of pope or duke, under penalty of being hung. This
+energetic procedure struck due terror, for when Bonivard's captain with
+several soldiers appeared before the castle it capitulated without a
+blow.
+
+It was a brief though splendid victory. The very first raid in which the
+"Knights of the Spoon"--an association of neighboring country
+gentlemen--harried that region they found that the captain and entire
+garrison of the castle had gone to market (not without imputations of
+treason), leaving the post in charge of one woman, who promptly
+surrendered.
+
+The sovereign of St. Victor's blood was up. He resolved to draw, if need
+were, on the entire resources of his realm. The army was promptly
+reinforced to twenty men, and Bonivard took the field in person at the
+head of his forces. On what wise this array debouched in two corps
+d'armee one Sunday morning from two of the gates of Geneva; how the
+junction of the forces was effected; the military history of the march;
+how they appeared, at last, before the castle of Cartigny,--are these
+not written by the pen of the hero himself in his _Chronicles_ of
+Geneva? But Bonivard, though brave, was merciful. Willing to spare the
+effusion of blood, he sent the general-in-chief, Bischelbach, with his
+servant, Diebolt, as an interpreter, to summon the castle. The answer
+was a shot that knocked poor Diebolt over with a mortal wound; whereupon
+the attacking army fell back in a masterly manner into the woods and
+made good their way into Geneva, bringing one prisoner, whom they had
+caught unarmed near the castle, and leaving Diebolt to die at a roadside
+inn.
+
+We may not further narrate the deeds of Bonivard as a martial hero,
+though they are neither few nor uninteresting.[10] But he is equally
+worthy of himself as a religious reformer. It was about this time that
+the stirrings of religious reformation at Berne and elsewhere began to
+be heard at Geneva, and the thought began to be seriously entertained by
+some of the patriotic "Sons of Geneva" that perhaps that liberty for
+which they had dared and suffered so much in vain might best come with
+that gospel which had wrought such wonders in other communities. There
+was one man who could advise them what to do; and they went together
+over to the convent and sought audience and ghostly counsel of the
+prior. "We are going to have done with all popish ceremonies," said
+they, "and drive out the whole rabble-rout of papistry, monks, priests
+and all: then we mean to send for gospel ministers to introduce the true
+Christian Reformation." It is pleasant to imagine the expression of
+Bonivard's countenance as he replied to his ardent friends: "It is a
+very praiseworthy idea. There is no doubt that all these ecclesiastics
+sadly need reformation. I am one of them myself. But who is to do the
+reforming? Whoever it is, they had better begin operations on
+themselves. If you are so fond of the gospel, why don't you practise it?
+It looks as if you did not so much love the gospel as you hate us. And
+what do you hate us for? It is not because we are so different from you,
+but because we are so like. You say we are a licentious lot; well, so
+are you. We drink hard; so do you. We gamble and we swear; but what do
+you do, I should like to know? Why should you be so hard on us? We
+don't interfere with your little enjoyments: for pity's sake, don't
+meddle with ours. You talk about driving us out and sending for the
+Lutheran ministers. Gentlemen, think twice before you do it. They will
+not have been here two years before you will wish they were gone. If you
+dislike us because we are too much like you, you will detest them
+because they are so different from you. My friends, do one thing or the
+other. Either let us alone, or, if you must do some reforming, try it on
+yourselves."
+
+Thus did this excellent pastor, in the spirit of the gospel injunction
+to count the cost, give spiritual counsel to those who sought
+reformation of the Church. "I warrant you," he wrote concerning them,
+"they went off with their tails between their legs. I am as fond of
+reformation as anybody, but I am a little scrupulous as to who shall
+take it in hand."[11]
+
+Bonivard's harum-scarum raids into the duke of Savoy's dominions after
+rents or reprisals at last became so embarrassing to his Geneva friends
+that, much as they enjoyed the fun of them, it became necessary to say
+to the good monk that this sort of thing really must stop; and feeling
+the force of his argument, that he must have _something_ to live on, the
+city council allowed its neighboring potentate a subvention of four
+crowns and a half monthly to enable him to keep up a state worthy of the
+dignity of a sovereign. He grumbled at the amount, but took it; and
+thereafter the peace of Europe was less disturbed on his part.
+
+But bad news came to the gay prior in his impoverished monastery. His
+mother was ill at his old home at Seyssel in Savoy, and he must see her
+before she died. It was venturing into the tiger's den, as all his
+friends told him, and as he did not need to be told. But he thought he
+would adventure it if he could get a safe-conduct from the tiger. The
+matter was arranged: the duke sent Bonivard his passport, limited to a
+single month; and the prior arrived at Seyssel, and nearly frightened
+the poor old lady out of her last breath with her sense of the peril to
+which he had exposed himself.
+
+Our hero's incomparable genius for getting himself into difficulties
+never shone more brightly than at this hour. While here in the country
+of his mortal enemy, on the last days of his expiring safe-conduct, he
+got news of accusations gravely sustained at Geneva that he had gone
+over into Savoy to treat with the enemy. He did not dare to stay: he did
+not dare to go back. If he could get his safe-conduct extended for one
+month, to the end of May, he would try to make his way through the Pays
+de Vaud (then belonging to Savoy) to Fribourg in the Swiss
+Confederation. The extension was granted, and with many assurances of
+good-will from friends of the duke he pushed on. It was a fine May
+morning, the 26th, that he was on his last day's journey to Lausanne,
+and passing through a pine wood. Suddenly men sprang from ambush upon
+Bonivard, who grasped his sword and spurred, calling to his guide, "Put
+spurs!" But instead of so doing the guide turned and whipped out his
+knife and cut Bonivard's sword-belt; "Whereupon these worthy gentlemen,"
+says Bonivard's _Chronicle_, "jumped on me and took me prisoner in the
+name of my lord duke." Safe-conducts were in vain. A bagful of ropes was
+produced, and he was carried on a mule, bound hand and foot, in secrecy,
+to the duke's castle of Chillon, the captain of which was one of the
+ambuscading party. For six years he was hidden from the world, and at
+first men knew not whether he was alive or dead. But his sufferings at
+the hand of the common foe put to shame the suspicions that had been
+engendered at Geneva, and it is recorded, to the honor of the Genevese,
+that during all that period, whenever negotiations were opened between
+them and the duke of Savoy, the liberation of Bonivard was always
+insisted on as one of the conditions.
+
+The story of the imprisonment is soon told; for, strangely enough, this
+most garrulously egotistical of writers never alludes to it but twice,
+and then briefly. The first two years he was kept in the upper chambers
+of the castle and treated kindly, but at the end of this time the castle
+received a visit from the duke, and from that time forth the Prisoner of
+Chillon was remanded to the awful and sombre crypt. A single sentence in
+his handwriting is all that he tells us of this period, of which he
+might have told so much, and in this he shows a disposition to look at
+the affair rather in its humorous than in its Byronesque aspect. For his
+one recorded reminiscence of his four years of dungeon-life is, that "he
+had such abundant leisure for promenading that he wore in the rock
+pavement a little path as neatly as if it had been done with a
+stone-hammer."[12]
+
+One March morning in 1536 the Prisoner of Chillon heard through the
+windows of his dungeon the sound of a cannonade by land and lake. It was
+the army of Berne, which was finishing its victorious campaign through
+the Pays de Vaud by the siege of the duke's last remaining stronghold,
+the castle of Chillon. They were joyfully aided by a flotilla fitted out
+by Geneva, which had never forgotten its old friend. That night the
+dungeon-door was burst open, and Bonivard and three fellow-prisoners
+were carried off in triumph to Geneva.
+
+Not Rip Van Winkle when he awoke from his long slumber in the Catskills,
+not the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus when they came back from their
+sepulchre and found their city Christian, had a better right to be
+surprised than the prior of St. Victor when he got back to Geneva. Duke
+and bishop and all their functionaries were expelled; priests and
+preaching-friars were gone; the mass was abolished; in the cathedral of
+St. Peter's and all the lesser churches, which had been cleared of
+their images, there were singing of psalms and preaching of fiery
+sermons by Reformers from France; and the streets through which he had
+sometimes had to move by stealth were filled with joyous crowds to hail
+him as a martyr. St. Victor was no more. If he went to look for his old
+home, he found a heap of rubbish, for all the suburbs of the city that
+might give shelter to an enemy had been torn down by the unsparing
+patriots of Geneva, and the trees had been felled. The joyous city had
+ceased, and Bonivard's prophecy to his roystering companions was not
+long in being fulfilled for himself as well as for them: they soon found
+Calvin's little finger to be heavier than the bishop's loins.
+
+And yet the heroic little town showed a noble gratitude toward the old
+friend of its liberties. The house which he chose out of all the city
+was given him for his own and furnished at the public expense. A pension
+of two hundred crowns a year in gold was settled on him, and he was made
+a senator of the republic. To all which was added a condition that he
+should lead a respectable life--a proviso which is practically explained
+in the very next appearance of his name in the records on account of a
+misdemeanor for which his accomplice was ordered to quit the town within
+three days.
+
+The more generous was the town the more exacting became the Martyr. He
+could not get over his free-and-easy way of living in the gay old days
+when the tithes of his benefice yielded him nigh a thousand yellow
+crowns a year. He could not see why he was not entitled to have his
+rents back again; and after a vain effort on the part of the council to
+make him see it, he went off to Berne, where he had been admitted a
+citizen, to ask it to interfere for him, sending back an impudent letter
+renouncing his Geneva citizenship, on the ground that in his reduced
+circumstances he could not afford to be a citizen in two places at once.
+For a while the patient city lost its patience with its unruly
+beneficiary, but the genuine grateful and kindly feeling that every one
+felt for the poor fellow, and the general admiration for his learning
+and wit, conspired with his growing embarrassments to bring about a
+settlement of the affair on the basis of a reduced pension with a round
+lump sum to pay his debts.
+
+They sent for him two or three years later to come to Geneva as
+historiographer, and he came, bringing with him a wife from Berne, who
+died soon after his arrival. For a man of his years, he had a remarkable
+alacrity at getting married, and his second venture was an unlucky one.
+For from the wedding-day onward, when he was not before the council with
+some quarrel or some affair of debt he was apt to come before it to get
+them to compel his wife to live with him, or, failing that, to get her
+money to live on himself. What time could be saved from these
+wranglings, which lasted almost till the poor woman's death, was devoted
+ardently to his literary work. The history grew apace, and other books
+besides. In the seditions of the Libertine party against the austerities
+of the new regime the old man took the side of law and order and good
+morals (in his book on _L'ancienne et nouvelle Police de Geneve_) with
+an ardor that was the more surprising as one remembered his antecedents.
+In the midst of his toils he found time to get married to a third wife
+and to go to law with his neighbors. He is continually coming to the
+council, sometimes for a little loan to help him with his lawsuits,
+sometimes for relief in his embarrassments. It is touching to see how
+tender they are toward the poor foolish old man. They make him little
+grants from time to time, always looking to it that their money shall be
+applied to the object designated, and not "on his fantasies." They take
+up one of his notes for him, looking to see that it has not been
+tampered with, because "he is easily circumvented and not adroit in his
+business." He complains of the heat during an illness one summer, and
+the seigneurie give him the White Chamber in the town-hall, and when
+winter comes on, and he is old and infirm, they assign him the lodging
+lately occupied by Mathurin Cordier (famous schoolmaster Corderius,
+whose _Dialogues_ were the first book in Latin of our grandfathers),
+because it contained a stove--a rare luxury. He thanks them for their
+kindness as his fathers, and makes them heirs of his library and
+manuscripts.
+
+There was another and more solemn assemblage, his relations with which
+were less tender. This was the consistory of the Church, which found it
+less easy to allow for the old man's infirmities. His first appearance
+before this body was under accusation of playing at dice with Clement
+Marot, another famous character and the sweet singer of the French
+Reformation. He comes next time of his own accord, asking the venerable
+brethren to interfere because his second wife ran away from him on their
+wedding-day, she defending herself on the ground of a bad cold. His
+domestic troubles bring him thither so often as to put the clergy out of
+patience. He is called up for beating his wife, but shows that the
+discipline was needed, and she is admonished to be more obedient in
+future. Later on he is questioned why he does not come to church. He
+can't walk, is the answer. But he is told that if he can get himself
+carried to the hotel de ville to see the new carvings, he could get
+carried to church. And why does he neglect the communion? _Answer_: He
+has been debarred from it. "Then present your request to be restored."
+So the poor old gentleman presents himself six weeks later, asking to be
+readmitted to the Church; which is granted, but with the remark, entered
+on the record, that he "does not show much contrition in coming with a
+bunch of flowers over his ear--a thing very unbecoming in a man of his
+years."
+
+The dreadful consistory had a principal concern in the affair that
+darkened the declining days of Bonivard with the shadow of a tragedy. An
+escaped nun had found refuge in his lodgings after his third wife's
+death; and after some love-making--on which side was disputed--there was
+a promise of marriage given by him, which, however, he was in no hurry
+to fulfil. The consistory deemed it best to interfere, in the interests
+of propriety, and insist on the marriage; and the decrepit old invalid
+in vain pleaded his age and bodily infirmities. So he was married in
+spite of himself to his nun, and showed his disposition to make the best
+of it by making her a wedding-present of his new Latin treatise, just
+finished, on _The Origin of Evil_, and receiving in tender return a
+Greek copy of the _Philippics_ of Demosthenes. Three years later the
+wretched woman was accused of adultery, and being put to the torture
+confessed her crime and was drowned in a sack, while her paramour was
+beheaded. Bonivard, being questioned, declared his belief of her
+innocence, and that her worst faults were that she wanted to make him
+too pious, and tormented him to begin preaching, and sometimes beat him
+when he had a few friends in to drink.[13]
+
+For five years after this catastrophe the old man lingered, tended by
+hirelings, but watched with filial gratitude by the little state whose
+liberties he had helped to save, and whose heroic history he had
+recorded. He had at least the comfort of having finished that great
+work; and when he brought the manuscript of it to the council, they
+referred it to a committee with Master Calvin at the head; who reported
+that it was written in a rude and familiar style, quite beneath the
+dignity of history, and that for this and other reasons it had better
+not be printed. The precious manuscript was laid on the shelf until in
+the lapse of years it was found that the very reasons why those solemn
+critics rejected it were the things that gave it supreme value to a
+later age. It has been the pride of Geneva scholars to print in elegant
+archaic style every page written by the Prisoner of Chillon in prose or
+verse, on history, polity, philology and theology.
+
+Somewhere about September, 1570, Francis Bonivard died, aged
+seventy-seven, lonely and childless, leaving the city his heir. The
+cherished collection of books that was the comfort of his harassed life
+has grown into the library of a university, and the little walled town
+for whose ancient liberties he ventured such perils and suffered such
+imprisonment is, and for the three hundred years since has been, one of
+the chief radiant centres of light and liberty for all the world.
+LEONARD WOOLSEY BACON.
+
+     NOTE.--Like every subject relating to the history of Geneva,
+     the life of Bonivard has been thoroughly studied by local
+     antiquarians and historians. The most important work on the
+     subject is that of Dr. Chaponniere, before cited: this is
+     reprinted (but without the documents attached) as a preface
+     to the new edition of the _Chronicles_. M. Edmond Chevrier,
+     in a slight pamphlet (Macon, 1868), gives a critical account
+     both of the man and of his writings. Besides these may be
+     named Vulliemin: _Chillon, Etude historique_, Lausanne,
+     1851; J. Gaberel: _Le Chateau de Chillon et Bonivard_,
+     Geneva. Marc Monnier, _Geneve et ses Poetes_ (Geneva, 1847),
+     gives an excellent criticism on Bonivard as author. For
+     original materials consult (besides the work of Chaponniere)
+     Galiffe: _Materiaux pour l'Histoire de Geneve_, and Cramer:
+     _Notes extraites des Registres du Consistoire_, a rare book
+     in lithography (Geneva, 1853). A weak little article in the
+     _Catholic World_ for September, 1876, bravely attacks
+     Bonivard as "one of the Protestant models of virtue," and
+     triumphantly proves him to have been far from perfect. The
+     charge, however, that he was "a traitor to his
+     ecclesiastical character," and "quitted his convent and
+     broke his vows," is founded on a blunder. Bonivard never
+     took monastic vows or holy orders, but held his living _in
+     commendam_, as a lay-man. The main resource, however, for
+     Bonivard's life up to his liberation from Chillon is in his
+     own works, especially the _Chronicles_ (Geneva, edition
+     Fick, 1867).
+
+
+
+
+"FOR PERCIVAL."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+WHY NOT LOTTIE?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+It was all over. The neighborhood had paid due honor to Godfrey Thorne.
+Old Garnett, who was kept at home by his gout, had written a letter of
+condolence to Mrs. Middleton, and expressed his deep regret at his
+enforced absence. She was pleased with the letter. She did not care for
+Dick Garnett, but he had known her brother all his life. She would not
+have been so pleased, perhaps, had she seen old Dick grinning and
+showing his fierce old teeth as he wrote it: "Ought to have been
+there--believe I was his best man fifty years ago. But half a century
+takes the shine out of most things--and people too." He shrugged his
+shoulders, eyed the last sentence he had written, and perceiving a
+little space at the end of a line, put in an adjective to make it rather
+warmer. "Won't show," he said to himself--"looks very natural. Lord!
+what a farce it all is! Fifty years ago there was Thorne, like a fool,
+worshipping the very ground Fanny Harvey trod on, and a few years later
+he wasn't particularly sorry to put her safe underneath it. Wonderful
+coal-scuttle of a bonnet she wore that wedding-day, to be sure! And I
+was best man!" Dick chuckled at the thought. "I shouldn't look much like
+best man now. Ah, well! I mayn't be best, but I'm a better man than old
+Godfrey to-day, anyhow." (And so, no doubt, for this world's affairs,
+Richard Garnett was, on the principle that "a living dog is better than
+a dead lion.") "And the candlemaker's daughter begins her reign, for
+that poor lad will never marry. Upon my word, I believe I'm a better man
+than Master Horace now. And I'm not likely to play the fool with
+physic-bottles, either: I know a little better than _that_." No, Aunt
+Harriet would not have liked Garnett's train of thought as he folded and
+addressed the letter which pleased her. And yet the old fellow meant the
+best he could.
+
+And now it was all over, and Brackenhill would know Godfrey Thorne no
+more. But for that one day he was still all-powerful, for they had met
+to hear his will read.
+
+Horace sat by the table with an angry line between his brows, and
+balanced a paper-knife on his finger. He tried to appear composed, but a
+shiver of impatience ran through him more than once, and the color came
+and went on his cheek. His mother was by his side, controlling her face
+to a rigidly funereal expression. But the effort was evident.
+
+Godfrey Hammond said to himself, "Those two expect the worst. And if the
+worst comes, if Percival is mistaken and Horace is cut off with just a
+pittance, we shall see what Hunting Harry's temper really is. We may
+have an unpleasant quarter of an hour, but it will give us a vivid idea
+of the end of the millennium, I fancy."
+
+Aunt Harriet was unfeignedly troubled and anxious.
+
+Percival was rather in the background. Sitting on one chair, he laid his
+folded arms on the back of another and rested his chin on his wrists. In
+this attitude he gazed at Hardwicke with the utter calm of an Assyrian
+statue. He felt his pulses throbbing, and it seemed to him as if his
+anxiety must betray itself. But it did not. If you have a little
+self-restraint and presence of mind you can affect to have much.
+Percival had that little.
+
+Just before Hardwicke began to read Mrs. James leant toward her son and
+whispered with an air of mystery. He answered with a short and sullen
+nod.
+
+Hardwicke read clearly but monotonously. The will was dated four days
+after Alfred Thorne's death--not only before Percival came to
+Brackenhill, but before any overtures had been made to him. Mrs.
+Middleton came first with a legacy of ten thousand pounds and a few
+things which the dead man knew she prized--their mother's portrait and
+one or two memorials of himself. Sissy had five thousand pounds and a
+small portion of the family jewels, which were very splendid. His
+godson, Godfrey Hammond, had three pictures and a ring, all of
+considerable value, and two or three other things, which, though of less
+importance, had been looked upon as heirlooms by successive generations
+of Thornes. Hammond perfectly understood the wilful pride and remorseful
+pangs with which that bequest was made.
+
+Then came small legacies to old friends. Duncan the butler and one or
+two of the elder servants had annuities, and the others were not
+forgotten. Two local charitable institutions had a hundred pounds each.
+By this time Horace was white to his very lips and drawing his breath
+painfully. Percival preserved an appearance of calm, but he could feel
+his strong, irregular heart-throbs as he leant against the chair.
+
+The lawyer went on to read the words which gave Brackenhill to Horace
+for his life. If he died and left no son to inherit the estate, it was
+to go to Percival Thorne. But unless Horace died first, and died
+childless, Percival would not take sixpence under his grandfather's
+will.
+
+It was a heavy blow, and his lips and hands tightened a little as he met
+it. He had known that the great prize was for his cousin, but he had
+fancied that there might be some trifling legacy for him. He would have
+been more thankful than words could say for half the annuity which was
+left to the butler. The remembrance of that paper which but for him
+would have been all powerful rose vividly before his eyes. Did he repent
+now that he was certain of the greatness of the sacrifice? Again from
+the bottom of his heart he answered, No. But even while Hardwicke read
+the words which doomed him to beggary it almost seemed to young Thorne
+as if the wrinkled waxen face and shrunken figure must suddenly become
+visible in the background to protest--as if a dead hand must be laid on
+that lying will which was itself more dead than the newly-buried corpse.
+Even in that bitter moment Percival was sorry for the poor old squire.
+
+Hardwicke finished, and thought it all very well. He did not pity the
+young fellow opposite him who had listened so intently and now was
+looking thoughtfully into space. The lawyer summed up Percival's
+position in his own mind thus:
+
+He had an income of his own, amount unknown, but as during Alfred
+Thorne's life it had sufficed for both, it must be more than enough to
+support the son.
+
+He was engaged to Sissy Langton. Her father had left her at least eight
+hundred pounds a year, besides which there were all the accumulations of
+a long minority and this legacy. Mr. Hardwicke thought that the united
+incomes would be more than fifteen hundred pounds a year.
+
+There were expectations too. Mrs. Middleton was rich, and though some of
+her property would revert to her husband's family, Hardwicke knew that
+she had saved a considerable sum. He had no doubt that those savings and
+her brother's ten thousand pounds would go to Sissy, and consequently to
+Percival.
+
+And lastly he looked at the new owner of Brackenhill. No, Mr. Hardwicke
+did not pity Mr. Percival Thorne.
+
+All these thoughts had flashed through his mind as he folded the paper
+and laid it down. Mrs. Middleton broke the silence. "But Percival--" she
+exclaimed in utter bewilderment: "I don't understand. What does
+Percival have?"
+
+"Nothing," said the young man quickly, lifting his head and facing her
+with a brave smile.
+
+"Nothing? It isn't possible! It isn't right!"
+
+"That will was made before ever I came here. It doesn't mean any
+unkindness to me, for he didn't know me."
+
+"But did he never make another?--Horace!--Oh, Mr. Hardwicke, _you_ know
+Godfrey never meant this! That was what his letter was about, then?"
+
+"He intended to make some change, no doubt," said Hardwicke.
+
+"Perhaps Mr. Percival Thorne would like to dispute the will." It was
+evident that Mrs. James perfectly comprehended the position. Aunt
+Harriet looked helplessly at her boy, unable to understand his silence.
+
+Horace, though unconscious of the glance, rose suddenly to his feet. "I
+want to understand," he began in a high thin voice--an unnatural
+voice--which all at once grew hoarse.
+
+"Yes--what?" said Hardwicke, looking up at the young man, who rested
+both his quivering hands on the table to support himself. All eyes were
+turned to the one erect figure.
+
+"That"--Horace nodded at the will--"that makes me master here, eh?"
+
+"Undoubtedly," Hardwicke replied, wondering whether Horace was unusually
+slow of comprehension.
+
+"Nothing can alter it?" said Horace. "I may do what I please in
+everything? I want to be sure."
+
+"You can't sell it, if you mean that," said the lawyer. "Didn't you
+understand? You have only--"
+
+"I know--I know that." The interruption was hasty, as if the speaker
+would not be reminded of an unpleasant truth.
+
+Hardwicke's eyes rested on the two hands which were pressed on the
+table. They were painfully weak and white. "You are master here," he
+said gently. "Certainly. Your grandfather has made no conditions
+whatever. Brackenhill is yours for your life."
+
+Horace looked fixedly at him, and half opened his lips as if to speak,
+but no sound came. It was so evident that he had something to say that
+the others waited in strained anxiety, and no one spoke except Mrs.
+James. She laid her fingers on his and said, "Now--why not now?"
+
+"Leave me to manage it," he answered, and drew his hand away, provoking
+a lofty "Oh, _very_ well!" He walked hurriedly to the hearth-rug and
+stood in the master's place with an air of having taken possession.
+Hardwicke moved his chair a little, so as to look sideways at the new
+squire: Hammond put up his glass.
+
+Mrs. James was like a living explanation of the text, "As an adamant
+harder than flint have I made thy forehead." Though she was sulky and
+persistently silent, there was a lurking triumph in her eyes, and it was
+easy to see that she listened eagerly for the words which seemed to die
+on her son's lips. He glanced quickly round, stepped back, and rested
+his elbow on the chimney-piece so awkwardly that a small china cup fell
+and was shivered to atoms on the hearth.
+
+"Oh, Horace!" exclaimed Aunt Harriet.
+
+"It's mine," said the young man with a nervous little laugh. "And--since
+Brackenhill is mine too--it is time that my wife should come home."
+
+There was a startled movement and a sudden exclamation of surprise,
+though it would have been impossible to say who moved or spoke.
+
+"Your wife! Do you mean that you are going to be married?" said
+Hardwicke.
+
+"No. I mean that I am married," Horace replied. "Oh, it's all right
+enough. I took care of that. You shall know all about it."
+
+"But how? when? who is she?" Mrs. Middleton had her hand on his arm and
+was stammering in her eagerness. "Oh, my dear boy, why didn't we know?"
+
+"Because Mrs. Horace Thorne was Miss Adelaide Blake," said Hammond
+decisively.
+
+Horace turned upon him and said "No," and he was utterly confounded.
+
+"But who, then? Tell us."
+
+Horace looked at Percival, the only one who had been silent. "Why not
+Lottie?" he said, and the tone was full of meaning.
+
+Percival stared at him for a moment, and then leapt to his feet. "It
+isn't true!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Indeed! And why not?" said Horace. "If I may ask--"
+
+"Lottie do anything underhand! Lottie! It can't be true!"
+
+"You're very kind, but Lottie doesn't want your championship, thank
+you," said Horace with an angry sneer. "No doubt you find it very
+incredible that she should prefer mine."
+
+"Oh, by all means, if it suits her," scoffed Percival, and sat down
+again, feeling stunned, robbed and duped.
+
+"And as to anything underhand--" Horace began fiercely.
+
+Aunt Harriet, scared by the menacing clash of words, uttered a faint
+little cry.
+
+"Percival! Horace!" said Godfrey Hammond, "you forget what day this
+is--you forget Mrs. Middleton. For God's sake don't quarrel before
+her!--Horace, is this really true? Is Lottie your wife?"
+
+"Yes," said the young man, turning quickly toward him: there was a
+sudden light of tenderness in his glance--"since last November." He
+paused, and then added softly, "the third," as if the date were
+something sacred. "Hammond, you know her: you know how young she
+is--only eighteen this month. If you choose to blame any one, blame me.
+And I'm not ashamed of what I've done." He looked defiantly round. "I'm
+proud of having won her; and as to my having concealed it, I ask you, in
+common fairness, what else could I do? My grandfather used to be very
+good to me, but of late he was set against me." A quick glance at
+Percival, who smiled loftily. "Whatever I did was wrong. If I'd told him
+I was going to marry a princess, it wouldn't have satisfied him. Since
+this time last year I've hardly had a good word. I've been watched and
+lectured, and treated like an outsider here, in my own home. You know
+it's true, and you know to whom I owe it. I never expected to have my
+rights: I thought my grandfather would have no peace till I was driven
+out of Brackenhill. And even now I can't understand how it is that I am
+master here." Percival smiled again, to himself this time. "But Lottie
+was willing to share my poverty--God bless her!--and I won't let an hour
+go by without owning my wife. I should be ashamed of myself if I did."
+
+Horace paused, not unconscious of the weakness of his position, yet more
+like the Horace of old days to look at--flushed, with a happy loyalty in
+his eyes and his proud head high in the air.
+
+"No one will blame you for marrying the girl you loved," said Percival
+in his strong voice. "That is exactly what my father did. It is true
+that you manage matters in a different way, and naturally the result is
+different." He rose. "I prefer my father's way--result and all." And
+with a bow to the assembled company young Thorne walked out of the room.
+
+Horace looked round to see how the attack was received--at Aunt Harriet,
+who was wiping away the quick coming tears; at Hardwicke, who was
+looking at the door through which Percival had vanished; at Hammond, who
+came forward a step or two. "I ordered a dog-cart to come over from
+Fordborough for me," he said. "If you will allow me I will ring and have
+it brought round."
+
+"You are going?" said Horace.
+
+"We shall just catch the four-o'clock train very comfortably if we go
+now," Godfrey replied. "Thorne will prefer going by that."
+
+"I see: you take his part. Very well. I suppose sooner or later you must
+choose between us: as well now as later." Horace rang the bell.
+
+"Horace," said Hammond, dropping his voice, yet speaking in the same
+tone of authority he had used once before that day, "for the first time
+in your life Mrs. Middleton is your guest. If you have a spark of right
+feeling--and you have more than that--you will not make her position
+here more painful than it must be. We will defer all discussion: there
+_must_ be a truce while she is here.--My dog-cart," he said over his
+shoulder to the servant. "It was to come from Fordborough. At
+once.--Keep out of the way ten minutes hence when your cousin goes," he
+added to Horace: "it will be best."
+
+The young squire bent his head in sulky acquiescence.
+
+"I shall take Percival with me," said Hammond to Mrs. Middleton as he
+went by. "He wants to be off, I know, and I shall be of more use with
+him than here."
+
+He found Percival crushing his things into his little portmanteau and in
+hot haste to get away from Brackenhill.
+
+"I'm going by the four train," Hammond remarked, "and I've told them
+you'll drive with me."
+
+"In one of _his_ carriages?" said young Thorne, looking up with furious
+eyes. "No, thank you: I'll walk."
+
+"If you jumped out of that window you wouldn't have to go down his
+staircase," said Hammond.
+
+"Oh, if you came here to--" began the young man, tugging at a strap.
+
+"I came here to ask you to drive with me in the dog-cart from the Crown.
+It's no use pulling a strap _much_ past the tightest hole. Come, you are
+not going to quarrel with me?"
+
+"I'm a fool," said Percival. "I shall feel it all in a minute or two, I
+suppose. Just now I only feel that everything belongs to the man who has
+duped me, and every breath I draw is choking me."
+
+"I understand," returned Hammond. "Percival, Mrs. Middleton is coming: I
+hear her step. For her sake--to-day--Thorne, you will not break her
+heart?"
+
+The old lady was knocking at the half-open door. "Come in," said
+Percival in a gentle voice. His portmanteau was strapped, and he rose as
+she entered. "Come to say good-bye to me, Aunt Harriet? I'm off, you
+see."
+
+"Oh, Percival, I can't understand it!" she exclaimed. "Horace
+married--_married_! And you going away like this! It is like a dream."
+
+"So it seems to me," said the young man.
+
+"And one of those Miss Blakes! Oh dear! what would Godfrey have said?
+Oh, Percival, he never meant this!" She had her hand to her forehead as
+she spoke.
+
+"No," said Percival. "But don't fret about me: I shall do very well."
+
+"But it isn't right. Oh, I don't know what to say or think, I am so
+bewildered. Perhaps Horace has hardly had time to think yet, has he?"
+she said faintly. "He will do something, I'm sure--"
+
+"He mustn't--don't let him! I can hold my tongue if I'm let alone. But
+if he insults me--" said Percival. "Aunt Harriet, for God's sake,
+_don't_ let him offer me money."
+
+"Ah!" in an accent of pain. "But my money! Percival, do you want any?
+It's a good thing, as _he_ said, that Mr. Lisle didn't fail before you
+came into yours, but if you want any--"
+
+"But I don't," said Percival. "As you say, it's a good thing I have some
+of my own." He had his fingers in his waistcoat pocket, and was
+wondering which of the coins that he felt there would prove to be gold.
+It was an important question. "Don't vex yourself about me, Aunt
+Harriet. Kiss me and say good-bye: there isn't much time, is there? Tell
+Sissy--" he stopped abruptly.
+
+"What?" said the old lady.
+
+"Tell her--I don't know. You'll let me hear how she is. You've been very
+good to me, Aunt Harriet. It's best as it is about Sissy, isn't it,
+seeing how things have turned out?"
+
+He caught up his luggage and went quickly out, but only to turn and
+pause irresolutely in the doorway.
+
+"I'll not say anything about Horace: we are best apart. But Lottie! I
+liked Lottie: we were very good friends when she was a school-girl. She
+is very young still. Perhaps she didn't understand. I ought to say this,
+because you never knew her, and I did."
+
+And having said it, he went away with a light on his sombre face. Mrs.
+Middleton looked up at Hammond with streaming eyes and shook her head:
+"I shall never like that girl: I shall never have anything to do with
+her. Godfrey was right."
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"Percival was his favorite always."
+
+"I'll look after him," said Hammond; and with a quick pressure of her
+hand he followed the young man down stairs.
+
+As they drove away Percival sat erect and grave, with a face as darkly
+still as if it were moulded in bronze. He went away from the dear old
+house without one backward glance: Horace might be looking out. He never
+spoke, and when they reached the station he took his ticket and got into
+the carriage without the least reference to Hammond, who followed him
+quietly. There was no one else with them. The silence was unbroken till
+they drew near their journey's end, when Thorne took out his ticket and
+examined it curiously. "I wonder if I shall ever see another?" he said.
+
+"Another what?"
+
+"First-class ticket. I ought to have gone third."
+
+"You get an opportunity of studying character, no doubt. But I think
+this is better to-day," said Hammond.
+
+Percival was silent for a moment. Then he spread all his money on his
+open hand and eyed it: "What do you think of that for a fortune, eh,
+Godfrey?"
+
+Godfrey glanced at the little constellation of gold and silver coins.
+"Wants a little more spending," he said. "Two-pence halfpenny is the
+mystic sum which turns to millions. So Lisle has swindled you, has he? I
+thought as much."
+
+Percival nodded: "Keep my secret. They sha'n't say that I lived on my
+grandfather first, and then on Aunt Harriet or Sissy. They may find it
+out later, and welcome if I have shown them that I can do without them
+all."
+
+"Ah yes," said Hammond a little vaguely. "Here we are."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+LOTTIE WINS.
+
+
+Percival had not been wrong about Lottie: she had at any rate only
+partially understood what she was doing. The poor child had been
+bitterly humiliated by the discovery that he did not love her, and felt
+that she was disgraced for life by her ill-judged advance. The feeling
+was high-flown and exaggerated no doubt, but one hardly expects to find
+all the cool wisdom of Ecclesiastes in a brain of seventeen. Lottie,
+flying from Percival's scorn as she supposed, was ready for any
+desperate leap. What wonder that she took one into Horace's open arms!
+How could she find a better salve for wounded pride than by captivating
+the man who had passed her by as nothing but a child, and who had been,
+as she would have said, "much too great a swell to take any notice of
+_her_"? He had dangled in a half-hearted fashion after Addie, and had
+given himself airs. Wounded vanity had attracted him to Lottie, but,
+smitten by sudden passion, he wooed her hotly, with an eagerness which
+startled even himself. How could she be unconscious of the difference
+and of her triumph? Percival Thorne, who had slighted her, should see
+her reigning at Brackenhill!
+
+Proud, pleased, grateful, excited, dizzy with success, Lottie was swept
+away by the torrent of mingled feelings. Her sorrow for her father's
+death was violent, but not lasting. She could not feel his loss for any
+length of time, she had always been so much more her mother's child.
+Even during her mourning there was something of romance in Horace's
+letters of comfort, for Horace, who had always been the laziest
+correspondent in the world, wrote ardent letters to Lottie, and used all
+the hackneyed yet ever fresh expedients for transmitting them which have
+been bequeathed to us by generations of bygone lovers. There were
+meetings too, more romantic still. No one is so sentimental as the man
+who is startled out of a languid scorn of sentiment. He does not know
+where to stop. Horace would have been capable of serenading Lottie if
+Mrs. Blake would only have slept on the other side of the house.
+
+Addie was unconscious of the fiery romance which went on close at hand.
+She felt that the languid attentions which she had prized were fading
+away and would never ripen to anything more. Her sorrow for her father's
+death was deeper than Lottie's, and while it was fresh she hardly
+thought of Horace Thorne's coldness, except as a part of the general
+dreariness of life, and did not attempt to seek out its cause. Even Mrs.
+Blake never for a moment expected the revelation which was made to her
+near the beginning of October.
+
+It was Lottie who told her, coming to her one night with a white face of
+agony and resolution.
+
+Horace was dangerously ill. He had been ill before, but this was
+something altogether different. The cold which led to such alarming
+results had been caught in one of his secret expeditions to see Lottie.
+She had been forced to keep him waiting, and a chilly September rain had
+drenched him to the skin. He had gone away in his wet clothes, had tried
+to pretend that there was nothing amiss with him, and had gone out the
+next day in order to be able to attribute his cold to a ride in the
+north-east wind. Since that time Lottie had had three letters--the first
+a gallant little attempt at gayety and hopefulness; the second, after a
+considerable interval, depressed and anxious. They had ordered him
+abroad. "I am sure they think badly of me," he wrote, "though I'll cheat
+the grave yet--if I can. But how am I to live through the winter in some
+horrible hole of a place without my darling? Suppose I get worse instead
+of better, and die out there, and never see you again--never once?" And
+so on for a page of forebodings. Lottie's fondness for him, fanned by
+pity and remorse--was it not for her that he had risked his
+life?--flamed up to passion. They say that a woman always puts the real
+meaning of her letter into the postscript. I don't know how that may be,
+but I do not think she would ever fail to give full weight to any
+postscript she might receive. Horace's postscript was, "After all, I've
+a great mind to stay in England and chance it."
+
+Lottie was terrified. She replied, wildly entreating him to go, and
+vowing that they should meet again and not be parted. She did not yet
+know what she would do, but--Then followed a few notes of music roughly
+dashed in.
+
+He was puzzled. He tried the notes furtively on the piano, but they told
+him nothing. That day, however, there came to his mother's house a girl
+with whom he had had one of his numerous flirtations in bygone days. He
+asked her to play to him, and then to sing, hanging over the piano
+meanwhile, and thrilling her with his apparent devotion and with the
+melancholy which reminded her of the fate which threatened him. When she
+had finished her song he said, "But you'll sing me one more, won't you?
+I sha'n't have the chance again, you know." He looked down as he spoke
+and struck the notes which haunted him. "Do you know what that is?" he
+asked. "It has been going in my head all day, and I can't put a name to
+it."
+
+She tried it after him. "What _is_ it?" she said: "I ought to remember,"
+and paused, finger on lip. Horace's eager eyes flashed upon hers, when
+she suddenly exclaimed, "I know. It's one of Chappell's old songs;" and,
+dashing her hands victoriously upon the keys, she sang "Love will find
+out the way."
+
+"Ah!" said Horace, and stood erect in a glow of passion and triumph. He
+remembered himself enough to ask again for one more song, but when, with
+a wistful tremor in her voice, she said, "This? you used to like this,"
+he assented, without an idea what it was, and dropped into the nearest
+arm-chair to ponder Lottie's message. He was quite unconscious that the
+girl at his side was singing "O Fair Dove! O Fond Dove!" with an
+earnestness of meaning, a pathos and a power, which she never attained
+before or since. But he was sorry when she stopped, for he had to come
+out of a most wonderful castle in the air and say "Thank you." When she
+went away he looked vaguely at her and let her hand fall, as was only
+natural. How we listen for the postman when we are longing for a letter
+and sick with hope deferred! But who thinks of him when he has dropped
+it into the box and is going down the street? Horace felt almost sure as
+he said good-bye that Love _had_ found out the way.
+
+And his next note sent Lottie to her mother.
+
+Mrs. Blake was utterly confounded when her younger daughter announced
+that she was engaged to Horace Thorne. "It was no good saying anything,"
+said Lottie frankly, "for his old wretch of a grandfather wouldn't think
+we were good enough to marry into _his_ family, and I dare say he would
+go and leave all his money to Percival if Horace thwarted him. So we
+thought we would wait. People can't live _very_ much longer when they
+are seventy-seven, can they? At least they do sometimes, I know," Lottie
+added, pulling herself up. "You see them in the newspapers sometimes in
+their ninety-eighth or ninety-seventh year, I've noticed lately. But I'm
+sure it will be very wicked if he lives twenty years more. And now
+Horace is ill, and we can't wait. For he must not and shall not go away,
+and perhaps die, without me." And Lottie broke down and wept.
+
+"But what do you want to do?" said Mrs. Blake. It was a shock to her,
+and she was sorry for Addie, but she could not repress a thrill of
+exultation at the thought that Horace Thorne, whom she had so coveted
+for a son-in-law, was caught. The state of his health was serious of
+course, but they must hope for the best, and the idea of an alliance
+with one of the leading county families dazzled her.
+
+"We want to be married before he goes out, and nobody to know anything
+about it," said Lottie; "and then you must take me abroad this winter."
+
+Mrs. Blake declared that it was utterly impossible.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Lottie, drying her tears. "Then I give you fair
+warning. I shall run away, and get to Horace somehow. I don't know
+whether we can get married abroad--"
+
+"I should think not--a child like you, without my consent," said Mrs.
+Blake.
+
+"No, I suppose we couldn't. Well, then, it will be your doing, you know,
+if we are not. _I_ shouldn't like to have such a thing on my
+conscience," said Lottie virtuously. "But perhaps you don't mind."
+
+Mrs. Blake said that it was impossible that Lottie could be so lost to
+all sense of propriety, so wicked, so unwomanly--
+
+The girl stood opposite, slim, white and resolute. Her slender hands
+hung loosely clasped before her and a fierce spark burned in her eyes.
+
+"Oh, that's impossible too, is it?" she said quietly. "We'll see."
+
+Mrs. Blake quailed, but murmured something about her "authority."
+
+"Oh yes," was the calm reply. "You might lock me up. Try it: I think I
+should get out. Make a fuss and ruin Horace and me. That you _can_ do,
+but keep us apart you can't."
+
+"You don't know, you can't know, what it is you talk of doing, or you
+couldn't stand there without blushing."
+
+"Very likely not," said Lottie. "But since I know enough to do it--"
+
+"You are a wicked, wilful child."
+
+"Wicked? Perhaps. Yes, I think I am wicked. I'm a child, I know. Help
+me, mother, for I love him!"
+
+The argument was prolonged, but the end could not be doubtful. Mrs.
+Blake could scold and bluster, but Lottie was determined. The mother was
+in bondage to Mrs. Grundy: the daughter played the trump card of her
+utter recklessness and won the game.
+
+Having yielded, Mrs. Blake threw herself heart and soul into the scheme.
+She announced that painful recollections made Fordborough impossible as
+a place of residence, that Lottie was looking ill, and that they both
+required a thorough change. She dropped judiciously disagreeable remarks
+about her stepson till Addie was up in arms, and said that her mother
+and Lottie might go where they liked, but she should go to her aunt,
+Miss Blake, till Oliver, who was on his way, came home. Then Mrs. Blake
+shut up her house and went quietly off to Folkestone: Horace was to
+start from Dover in rather more than a fortnight's time.
+
+[Illustration: "DO YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT I HAVE SAID?"--Page 66.]
+
+After that the course was clear. Horace found out that he was worse, and
+must put off his departure for a week or ten days. Then, when the time
+originally fixed arrived, he said that he was better and would start at
+once. Naturally, Mrs. James was not ready, and he discovered that the
+house was intolerable with her dressmakers and packing, that he must
+break the journey somewhere, and that he might as well wait for her at
+Dover. The morning after his arrival there he took the train to
+Folkestone, met Lottie and her mother, went straight to the church, and
+came back to Dover a lonely but triumphant bridegroom, while Mrs. Blake
+and Mrs. Horace Thorne crossed at once to Boulogne.
+
+It was necessary that Mrs. James should be enlightened, but Horace was
+not alarmed: he knew that she had no choice but to make common cause
+with him. Mrs. Blake, however, could hardly make up her mind what should
+be done about Addie. She more than suspected that the tidings would be a
+painful humiliation to her daughter. "We mustn't tell her," she said at
+last to Lottie. "She might be spiteful: it wouldn't be safe."
+
+"It will be quite safe," said Lottie. "Because of what we used to say
+about Horace, you mean? But that is just what makes it safe. I know
+Addie: she won't let any one say that she betrayed me because she wanted
+Horace herself once. She _said_ she didn't, but I think there was
+something in it; and if there was, she'd be torn in pieces sooner than
+let any one say so."
+
+There was a curious straightforwardness about Lottie, even while she
+schemed and plotted. She calculated the effect of her sister's
+tenderness for Horace as frankly and openly as one might reckon on a
+tide or a train, and behaved as if the old saying, "All is fair in love
+and war," were one of the Thirty-nine Articles.
+
+She wrote her letter without difficulty or hesitation. It was after
+Horace had joined them, and he laid his hand lightly on her shoulder as
+she was contemplating her new signature.
+
+"Nearly done?" he said. "And who is to have the benefit of all this?"
+
+"Addie: she ought to know."
+
+"Ah!" There was something of uneasiness in his tone, as if an unpleasant
+idea had been presented to him. Horace had felt, when he arranged his
+secret marriage, that he and Lottie were doing a daring and romantic
+deed, and risking all for love in a truly heroic fashion. But when she
+told him that she had written to Addie the matter wore a less heroic
+aspect. Lottie might be unconscious of this in her sweet sincerity,
+thought the ardent lover, but he remembered old days and felt like
+anything but a hero.
+
+"Do you want to see what I have said?" She tilted her chair backward and
+looked up at him with her great clear eyes.
+
+"No," Horace answered with a smile: "I'm not going to pry into your
+letters." In his heart he knew that it was impossible to put the
+revelation of their secret to Addie into any words that would not be
+painful to him to read.
+
+"Shall I give any message for you?"
+
+"N-no," said Horace, doubtfully: "I think not."
+
+"It might be considered more civil if you sent one."
+
+"Then say anything you please," was the half-reluctant rejoinder.
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to invent your messages, you lazy boy! A likely
+story!" Lottie sprang up and put the pen into his hand: "There! write
+for yourself, sir."
+
+Horace thought that a refusal would betray his feelings about Addie, and
+he sat down, wondering what he was going to say. But his eye was caught
+by the last two words of the letter, "LOTTIE THORNE;" and as he looked
+at them the young husband forgot Addie and his lips curved in a tender
+smile.
+
+"Make haste," said Lottie from the window--"make haste and come to me."
+
+Horace started from his happy reverie, set his teeth and wrote:
+
+"DEAR ADDIE: I suppose Lottie has told you everything. It was a reckless
+thing to do, no doubt: perhaps you will say it was wrong and underhand.
+Some people will, I dare say, but I hope you won't, for I should like to
+start with your good wishes. May I call myself
+
+"Your brother, H.T.?"
+
+In due time came the answer:
+
+"DEAR HORACE: I will not pass judgment on you and your doings: I am not
+clever in arguing such matters. I will only say (which is more to the
+point, isn't it?) that you and Lottie have my best wishes for the
+safe-keeping of your secret, and anything I can do to help you I will.
+We are having very cold damp weather, so I am glad you are safe in a
+warmer climate, and hope you are the better for it.
+
+"Your affectionate sister,
+
+"ADELAIDE BLAKE."
+
+Horace showed this to Lottie, and then thrust it away and forgot it all
+as quickly as he could. Addie had read this little scrap in her own
+room, had stood for a moment staring at it, had kissed it suddenly, then
+torn it into a dozen pieces and stamped upon it. Then she gathered up
+the fragments, sighed over them, burnt them, and vowed she would think
+no more of it or him. But as she went about the house there floated
+continually before her eyes, "Your brother, H.T.;" and the word which
+had been so sweet to her, which had always meant her dear old Noll, and
+which she had uttered so triumphantly to Percival in Langley Wood when
+she said "I have a brother," became her torment.
+
+Horace felt like a hero again when he forgot Addie, and only remembered
+how he was risking his grandfather's displeasure for his love's sake. He
+fully thought, as he had said, that he was Esau, and that smooth Jacob
+would win a large share of the inheritance; but when he stood with his
+back to the fireplace at Brackenhill, and knew that he was master of
+all, Percival's parting sneer awoke his old doubts as to his heroism
+once more. He had succeeded too well, and the risk which had ennobled
+his conduct in his own eyes would never be realized by others.
+Percival's attempt to supplant him had been foiled, and Horace was
+triumphant, yet he regretted the glaring contrast in their positions
+which rendered comparisons of their respective merits inevitable. But he
+could do nothing. Percival had said, "Don't let him offer me money."
+Horace, keener-sighted than Aunt Harriet, had not the slightest
+intention of doing so. He knew how such overtures would be received;
+and, after all, Brackenhill was his by right! And had not Percival
+plenty to live on?
+
+And as for himself, let who would turn their backs on him--even Aunt
+Harriet, if it must be so--he had Lottie, and could defy the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+A START IN LIFE.
+
+
+For some days after he left Brackenhill, Percival was busy arranging his
+affairs. His ruin was remarkably complete. He had been running up bills
+in every direction during the last month or two, intending to pay for
+everything before his marriage out of the funds which were in Mr.
+Lisle's hands. He had plenty there, he knew, for his method of saving
+had been to live principally on his grandfather's supplies, and to leave
+his own to accumulate under his guardian's care--a plan which had always
+seemed to him admirably simple, as indeed it had proved to be. Lately he
+had not received much from the squire, because the old man so fully
+intended to provide for his favorite once and for all on the approaching
+wedding-day. Percival got some of the tradesmen to take back their
+goods, and sold off everything he had to meet the rest of the claims
+against him. Even the watch his grandfather had given him went, on
+Bombastes Furioso's theory that
+
+    Watches were made to go.
+
+Hammond was urgent that he should accept a loan. "It isn't friendly to
+be so infernally proud," said Godfrey.
+
+"What do you call being 'infernally proud'?" Percival retorted. "I've
+been living on you for the last fortnight; and I bought myself a silver
+watch this morning, and I've got two pounds seventeen shillings and
+sevenpence and a big portmanteau full of clothes. I don't _want_ your
+money."
+
+It was after dinner. Hammond filled his glass and pushed the bottle to
+his guest. "What do you mean to do?" he asked.
+
+"Ah, that's the question," answered Percival. "Do you happen to know if
+one has to pass much of an examination to qualify one for breaking
+stones on the roads now-a-days? Not that I should like that much;" and
+he sipped his claret reflectively. "It would be rather monotonous,
+wouldn't it? And I can't help thinking that bits would get into one's
+eyes."
+
+"I think so too," said Godfrey. "Emigrate."
+
+"That advice would be good in some cases. But addressed to any one who
+is notoriously helpless its meaning is obvious."
+
+"Are you notoriously helpless?"
+
+"Am I not?"
+
+"Well, perhaps. What does it mean, then?"
+
+"It is a civil way of saying, 'Ruin is inevitably before you--gradual
+descent in the social scale, ending in misery and starvation. _Would_
+you be so kind as to go through the process a few thousand miles away,
+instead of just outside my front door?' I don't say you mean that--"
+
+"I'm sure I won't say I don't," Hammond interrupted him. "Very likely I
+do: I don't pretend to be any better than my neighbors. But that doesn't
+matter. If you are so clear-sighted that there's no sending you off
+under a happy delusion, it would be mere brutality to urge you to
+undergo sea-sickness in the search for such a fate. As you say, it is
+attainable here. Will you turn tutor?"
+
+Percival winced: "That sort of thing isn't easy to get into, is it? I
+doubt if I've the least aptitude for teaching, and I never went to
+college. I should be a very inferior article--not hall-marked."
+
+"Then write," said Godfrey.
+
+"Cudgel my lazy brains to produce trash, and hate my worthless work,
+which probably wouldn't sell. I haven't it in me, Godfrey." There was a
+pause.--"By Jove, though, I _will_ write!" said Percival suddenly.
+
+"What will you write?"
+
+"Anything. I'll be a lawyer's clerk."
+
+"But, my good fellow, you'll have to pay to be articled. I fear you
+won't make a living for years."
+
+"Articled? nonsense! I'll be a copying-clerk--one of those fellows who
+sit perched up on high stools at a desk all day. I _can_ write, at any
+rate, so that will be an honest way of getting my living--the only one I
+can see."
+
+Hammond was startled, and expostulated, but in vain. The relief of a
+decision was so great that Percival clung to it. Hammond talked of a
+situation in a bank, but Percival hated figures. His scheme gave him a
+chance of cutting himself loose from all former associations and
+beginning a new, unknown and lonely life. "No one will take any notice
+of a lawyer's clerk," he said. "I want to get away and hide myself. I
+don't want to go into anything where I shall be noticed and encouraged,
+and expected to rise--don't let any one ever expect me to rise, for I
+certainly sha'n't--nor where any one can say, 'That is Thorne of
+Brackenhill's grandson.' I'm shipwrecked, and I've no heart for new
+ventures."
+
+"Not just at present," said Godfrey.
+
+"Never," said the other. "I'm not the stuff a successful man is made of,
+and what I want isn't likely to be gained in business. I might earn
+millions, I fancy, if I set them steadily before my eyes and loved the
+means for the end's sake, easier than I could get what I covet--three or
+four hundred a year, plenty of leisure, and brain and habits unspoilt by
+money-making. There's no chance for the man who not only hasn't the
+necessary keenness, but wouldn't like to have it. If you want to say,
+'More fool you!' you may."
+
+Hammond shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
+
+"Stick to your money, Godfrey," said Thorne with a melancholy smile, "or
+you'll feel some day as if the ground were cut away from under your
+feet. It isn't pleasant."
+
+"I'll take your word for it," said Hammond.
+
+Percival mused a little. "It's hard, somehow," he said. "I didn't want
+much and I wasn't reckless: upon my word, it's hard. Well, it can't be
+helped. Look here: do you know a lawyer who would suit me?"
+
+"Is that the way you mean to apply for a situation? Let us see: will
+Your Highness stay in town?"
+
+"And meet all sorts of people? My Highness will not."
+
+"In the country, then?"
+
+"No, a big town--the bigger the better--some great manufacturing place,
+where every one has smuts on his face, money in his pocket, and is too
+busy improving machinery to have time to look at his neighbor."
+
+"Would Brenthill do?"
+
+"Admirably."
+
+"I know a man there: I dare say he would as soon oblige me as not. What
+shall I say?"
+
+"Say that I want employment as a clerk, and that, though I am utterly
+inexperienced, I write a good hand and am fairly intelligent. Don't say
+that I am active and obliging, for I'm neither. Tell him that if he can
+give me a fair trial it is all that you ask, and that he may turn me out
+at the end of a week if I don't do."
+
+Godfrey nodded assent.
+
+"I think you may as well write it _now_," said Percival. "I shall find
+it difficult to live for any length of time on this private fortune of
+mine without making inroads on my capital."
+
+Hammond stretched himself and crossed the room to his writing-table.
+"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" he said. "It will be a
+horrible existence. Clerks receive very poor pay: I don't believe you
+can live on it."
+
+"At any rate, I can die rather more slowly on it, and that will be
+convenient just now."
+
+"Why don't you wait, and see if we can't help you to something better?"
+
+Percival shook his head: "No. I promised Sissy that if I took help from
+any one, it should be from her. I must try to stand by myself first."
+
+Godfrey wrote, and Percival sat with bent head, poring over the little
+note which Sissy had sent to entreat that the past might be forgotten.
+"Let me do something for you," she wrote. "Come back to me, Percival, if
+you have forgiven me; and you said you had. I was so miserable that
+miserable night, and we were so hurried, I hardly know what I said or
+did. It was like a bad dream: let us forget it, and wake up and begin
+again. Can't we? Come and be good to me, as you were last autumn. You
+remember your song that day in the garden, 'You would die ere I should
+grieve;' and I have grieved so bitterly since last Wednesday night! You
+will be good to me--won't you?--and I promise I will tell you everything
+always. I promise, Percival, and you know I will really when I say I
+promise."
+
+He had answered her with tender and sorrowful firmness. "I knew your
+letter was coming," he said. "I was as certain of it, and of what you
+would say, as if I held it in my hand. But, Sissy, you wouldn't have
+written so to me if I had been a rich man, as you hoped I should be; and
+I can't take from your sweet pity what you couldn't give me when I asked
+it for love's sake. It is impossible, dear, but I thank you from the
+bottom of my heart, and I love you for it. I hardly know yet where I
+shall go and what I shall do; but if I should want any help I will ask
+it first of you, and I will be your friend and brother to my dying day."
+
+Thus he closed the page of his life on which he had written that brief
+story of love. Yet Sissy's letter was an inexpressible comfort to him.
+It was something to know that elsewhere a little heart was beating--so
+true and kind that it would have given up its own happiness--to help him
+in his trouble.
+
+A few days later Percival was going north in a slow train. On his right
+sat a stout man with his luggage tied up in a dirty handkerchief. On his
+left was an old woman in rusty black nursing an unpleasant grandchild,
+who made hideous demonstrations of friendship to young Thorne. Opposite
+was a soldier smoking vile tobacco, a clodhopping boy in corduroy, and a
+big girl whose tawdry finery was a miracle of jarring and vulgar colors.
+
+Never, I think, could a young hero have set forth to make his way
+through the world with less hope than did Percival Thorne. He was
+already disheartened and disgusted, and questioned within himself
+whether life were worth having for those who went third-class. The slow
+train and the lagging hours crawled onward through the dust and heat.
+"And this," he thought, "should have been my wedding-day!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+NO. 13 BELLEVUE STREET.
+
+
+June gave way to July, July to August, August to September. Lottie
+reigned at Brackenhill, and Mrs. Middleton, whose heart clung to the
+neighborhood where she had lived so long, had taken a house on the other
+side of Fordborough. Between it and her old home lay an impassable
+gulf--none the less real that it was not marked on the county map. It
+appeared there as a distance of five miles and a quarter, with a good
+road, but Mrs. Horace Thorne, as well as Mrs. Middleton, knew better.
+Lottie laughed, and Horace's resentment was so keen that he was almost
+unconscious of his pain.
+
+Percival's utter disappearance was a nine days' wonder in Fordborough,
+and when curiosity was dying out it flamed up again on the discovery
+that the marriage was not only put off, but was off altogether. This
+fact, considered in connection with the old squire's will, gave rise to
+the idea that there was something queer about Mr. Percival Thorne--that
+he had been found out at the last moment, and had lost both wife and
+legacy in consequence. "No doubt it was hushed up on condition he should
+take himself off. The best thing they could do, but how sad for an old
+county family! Still, there will be black sheep, and what a mercy it was
+that Miss Langton was saved from him!" So people talked, and generally
+added that they could not tell why--just a feeling, you know--but they
+never had liked that Percival Thorne.
+
+In September, Godfrey Hammond cut a tiny slip out of the _Times_ and
+sent it to the banished man: "On the 15th, the wife of Horace Thorne,
+Esq., Brackenhill, Fordborough, of a son."
+
+Percival ate his breakfast that morning with the scrap of paper by his
+plate, and looked at it with fierce, defiant eyes. Lottie was avenged
+indeed--she would never know how bitterly. He had sworn that he would
+never think of Brackenhill, yet without his knowledge it had been the
+background to his thoughts of everything. And now the cruel injustice of
+his fate had taken a new lease of life in this baby boy: it would
+outlive him, it would become eternal. Percival leapt to his feet with a
+short laugh: "Well, that's over and done with! Good luck to the poor
+little fellow! he's innocent enough. And I don't suppose he'll ever know
+what a scoundrel his father was." So saying, he glanced at his watch and
+marched off to his work.
+
+Those three months had left their trace on him. He loathed his life; he
+had no companions, no hope; he was absorbed in the effort to endure his
+suffering. His indolence made his daily labor hateful as the treadmill.
+He was fastidious, and his surroundings sickened him. His food disgusted
+him, and so did the close atmosphere of the office. But he had chosen
+his fate, and he had no heart to try to escape from it, since it gave
+him the means of keeping body and soul together. Day after day, as that
+hot September wore away, he looked out on a dreary range of roofs and
+chimney-pots. He learned to know and hate every broken tile. From his
+bedroom he looked into a narrow back yard, deep like a well, at the
+bottom of which children swarmed, uncleanly and unwholesome, and women
+gossiped and wrangled as they hung out dingy rags to dry. The fierce sun
+shone on it all, and on Percival as he leant at his window surveying it
+with disgust, yet something of fascination too. "I fancied the sun
+wouldn't seem so bright in holes like this," he mused. "I thought
+everything would be dull and dim. Instead of which, he glares into every
+cranny and corner, as if he were pointing at all the filth and squalid
+misery, and makes it ten times more abominable." Nor did the slanting
+rays light up anything pleasant and fresh in the bedroom itself. It was
+shabby and small, with coarsely-papered walls and a discolored ceiling.
+Percival remarked that his window had a very wide sill. He never found
+out the reason, unless it were intended that he should take the air by
+sitting on it and dangling his legs over the foulest of water-butts. But
+when night came the broad sill was the favorite battlefield for all the
+cats in the neighborhood. It might have been pointed out as readily as
+they point you out the place where the students fight at Heidelberg.
+
+From his sitting-room he looked on a melancholy street. The
+unsubstantial houses tried to seem--not respectable, no word so honest
+could be applied to them, but--genteel, and failed even in that
+miserable ambition. Percival used to watch the plastered fronts, flaking
+in the sun and rain, old while yet new, with no grace of bygone memory
+or present strength, till he fancied that they might be perishing of
+some foul leprosy like that described in Leviticus. And the wearisome
+monotony! They were all just alike, except that here and there one was a
+little dingier than its neighbors, with the railings more broken and the
+windows dirtier. One day, when his landlady insisted on talking to him
+and Percival was too courteous to be absolutely silent, he asked where
+the prospect was from which the street took its name. She said they used
+to be able to see Three-Corner Green from their attic-windows. In her
+mother's time there was a tree and a pond there, she believed, and she
+herself could remember it quite green, a great place for Cheap Jacks and
+people who preached and sold pills. But now it was all done away with
+and built over. It was Paradise Place, and Paradise Place wasn't much of
+a prospect, though there might be worse. But it was no detriment to Mr.
+Thorne's rooms, for it was only the attic that ever had the view.
+However, folks must call the place something, if only for the letters;
+and Bellevue looked well on them and sounded airy, and she was never the
+one for change. This sounded so like the beginning of a discourse on
+things in general that Percival thanked her and fled.
+
+It was about ten minutes' walk to Mr. Ferguson's office. There, week
+after week, he toiled with dull industry. He could not believe that his
+drudgery would last: something--death perhaps--must come to break the
+monotony of that slowly unwinding chain of days, which was like a
+grotesquely dreary dream. To have flung himself heart and soul into his
+work not only demanded an effort of which he felt himself incapable,
+but it seemed to him that such an effort could only serve to identify
+him with this hideous life. So, with head bowed over interminable pages,
+he labored with patient indifference. On his left sat a clerk ten or
+fifteen years older than himself, a white-faced man, who blinked like an
+owl in sunlight and had a wearisome cough. There was always a sickly
+smell of lozenges about him, and he was fretful if every window was not
+tightly closed. On Percival's right was a sallow youth of nineteen. He
+worked by fits and starts, sometimes driving his pen along as if the
+well-being of the universe depended on the swift completion of his task
+and the planets might cease to revolve if he were idle, while a few
+minutes later he would be drawing absently on his blotting-paper or
+feeling for his whiskers, as if they might have arrived suddenly without
+his being aware of it. Probably he was thinking over his next speech at
+the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Society. They debated high and
+important matters at their weekly meetings. They inquired, "Was Oliver
+Cromwell justified in putting King Charles to death?" they read
+interesting papers about it, and voted the unlucky monarch into or out
+of his grave with an energy which would have allowed him little rest if
+it could have taken effect. They marshalled many arguments to decide the
+knotty and important question, "Does our Country owe most to the Warrior
+or the Statesman?" and they made up their minds and voted about that
+too. The sallow young man was rather a distinguished member of the
+society, and had much to say on such problems as these.
+
+The clerks did not like Thorne. They felt that he was not one of
+themselves, and said that he was stuck up and sulky. They resented his
+silence. If you do not like a man you always understand his silence as
+the speech you would most dislike--veiled. Above all, they resented his
+grave politeness. They left him alone, with an angry suspicion that it
+was exactly what he wanted them to do; as indeed it was, though he was
+painfully conscious of the atmosphere of distrust and ill-will in which
+he lived. But he could have found no pleasure in their companionship,
+and in fact was only interested in their coats. He was anxious to learn
+how shabby a man might become and pass unnoticed in the office; so he
+would glance, without turning his head, at the white-faced man's sleeve,
+and rejoice to see the same threadbare cuff travelling slowly across a
+wide expanse of parchment.
+
+When he wrote to Hammond he said that he was getting on very well. He
+could not say that his work was very amusing, but very likely he should
+get more used to it in time. He wished to be left alone and to give it a
+fair trial. How was Sissy?
+
+Hammond replied that Mrs. Middleton had aged a good deal, but that she
+and Sissy were both pretty well, and had got an idea--he could not think
+from whom--that Percival had gone in for the law and was going to do
+something very amazing indeed. "They are waiting to be surprised,"
+Godfrey wrote, "like children on their birthdays. St. Cecilia especially
+wouldn't for worlds open her eyes till the right moment comes and you
+appear in your glory as lord chancellor or attorney-general, or
+something of the kind. I'm afraid she's a little hazy about it all,
+though of course she knows that you will be a very great man and that
+you will wear a wig. Mrs. Middleton is perhaps a trifle more moderate in
+her expectations. I left them to build their castles in the air, since
+you had bound me to secrecy, but I wish you would tell them the truth.
+Or I would help you, as you know, if I knew how."
+
+Percival answered that Godfrey must not betray him: "I couldn't endure
+that Horace and his wife should know of my difficulties; and as to
+living on Aunt Harriet--never! And how could I go back to Fordborough,
+now that Sissy and I have parted? She would sacrifice herself for
+me--poor child!--out of sheer pity. No: here I can live, after a
+fashion, and defy the world. And here I will live, and hope to know some
+day that Sissy has found her happiness. Till then let her think that I
+am prospering."
+
+Godfrey shrugged his shoulders over Percival's note. It was irrational,
+no doubt, but Thorne had a right to please himself, and might as well
+take care of his pride, since he had not much else to take care of. So
+he attempted no persuasion, but simply sent any Fordborough news and
+forwarded occasional letters from Mrs. Middleton and Sissy. As the
+autumn wore on, Percival began to feel strange as he opened the
+envelopes and saw the handwriting which belonged to his old life. He had
+an absurd idea that the letters should not have come to _him_--that his
+former self, the self Sissy had known, was gone. He read her letters by
+the light of what Hammond had told him, and saw the delicate wording by
+which she tried to show her sympathy, yet almost repelled his
+confidence. She was so anxious not to thrust herself into his
+secrets--it was so evident that she would not be troublesome, but would
+wait with shut eyes, as Hammond had said, for a birthday surprise and
+triumph! O poor little Sissy! O faith which he felt within himself no
+strength to vindicate! He answered her in carefully weighed sentences,
+and smiled as he wrote them down because they amused him--a smile sadder
+than tears. Percival Thorne was dead, and he was some one else, trying
+to think what Percival would have said, and to hide his death from
+Sissy, lest her heart should break for pity.
+
+It was very foolish? Yes. But if you had parted yourself from every one
+you knew; if for five months you had never heard a friendly word; if you
+had a secret to hide and a part to play; if you lived alone, surrounded
+by faces of people with whom you had no faintest touch of
+sympathy--faces which were to you like those of swarming Chinese or men
+and women in a nightmare,--perhaps you might have some thoughts and
+fancies less calm and less rational than of old. And the more changed
+Percival felt himself, the more he shrank from the friends he had left.
+
+November came. One day he looked at the date on the office almanac and
+remembered that it was exactly a year since he went down to Brackenhill
+and heard of old Bridgman's death. He could not repress a short sudden
+laugh. It was half under his breath, but his neighbor, who was at that
+moment gazing fiercely into space and turning a sentence, heard it, and
+felt that it was in mockery of him. Percival was thinking how seriously
+he had considered that important question, "Would he stand as the
+Liberal candidate for Fordborough?" Percival Thorne, Esq., M.P.! He
+might well laugh as he sat at his desk filling in a bundle of notices.
+But from that moment the sallow youth on his right hated him with a
+deadly hatred.
+
+December came--a dull, gray, bitter December--not clear and sparkling,
+as December sometimes is, nor yet misty and warm, as if it would have
+you take it for a lingering autumn, but bitter without beauty, harsh and
+pitiless. Keen gusts of wind whirled dust and straws and rubbish in
+dreary little dances along Bellevue street, the faces of the passers-by
+were nipped and miserable with the cold, and the sullen sky hung low
+above the pallid row of houses opposite. Percival looked out on this and
+thought of Brackenhill, which he left in leafy June. He was very
+miserable: he had always been quickly sensitive to the beauty or
+dreariness around him, and the gray dulness of the scene entered into
+his very soul. Warmth, leisure, sunlight and blue sky! There was plenty
+of sunlight somewhere in the world. O God! what had he done that it
+should be denied him?
+
+There was a weary craving upon him that might have led to terrible
+results, but his pride and fastidiousness saved him. His delicately
+cultivated palate loathed the coarse fire of spirits, and he had a
+healthy horror of drugs. Once or twice he had thought of opium when he
+could not escape, even in dreams, from the grayness of his life. "This
+is unendurable," he would say; and he played in fancy with the key which
+unlocks the gates of that strange region lying on the borders of
+paradise and hell. But his better sense questioned, "Will it be any more
+endurable when I have ruined my nerves and the coats of my stomach?" It
+did not seem probable that it would be. If death had been the risk he
+might have faced it, but he recoiled from the thought of a premature and
+degraded old age, still chained to the hateful desk.
+
+There are times when a man may be cheaply made into a hero. What would
+not Percival have given for the chance of doing some deed of reckless
+bravery?
+
+[TO BE CONTINUED.]
+
+
+
+
+A LEVANTINE PICNIC.
+
+
+We had been a long time in Suda Bay--one of the numerous indentations on
+the north coast of Crete--in company with Turkish, Egyptian, Russian and
+Austrian men of war. Fighting was going on at intervals on the
+mountains--of which Mount Ida and some of the other peaks were covered
+with snow--and we could sometimes see from our anchorage the spirts of
+white smoke where the Cretans (not "slow-bellies" now) were ambushing
+the Turkish columns as they struggled up the mountain-defiles. Egyptian
+transports came in and landed their long-legged, white-uniformed troops,
+who perhaps bivouacked that night on the shores of the bay, and the next
+day were absorbed in the great reticulations of the mountain-island,
+which must have seemed a strange country indeed to the Fellah recruits,
+to whom the Mokattam Hills were mountains.
+
+_We_ could do nothing in Crete. We were closely bound down by orders,
+and sympathies had no play. Hundreds of women and children, the
+families of the insurgents, were interned at Retimo in an old fort and
+in other similar strongholds. Some were hovering about the south coast,
+not far from St. Paul's Fair Havens, in hopes of being taken off from
+there. The condition of these people was very pitiable. The Russian
+frigate General Admiral had taken one load of them to Greece, but the
+pacha in command, Mustapha Kiritli, positively refused to allow us or
+the Russians to take any more. The blockade-runners (one of which, at
+least, had distinguished herself in our own then recent war) took off a
+few, but could not, of course, stay on the coast long enough to
+accomplish much without having a Turkish cruiser down upon them. As a
+war-measure the refusal of the pacha was right, for the possession of
+the women and children gave the Turks a certain hold upon the Cretans
+who were bushwhacking in the mountains.
+
+The pacha did give us permission to go down to Retimo to see for
+ourselves the condition of the families detained there. They were not so
+badly off, according to Levantine notions. They had lentils, oil, flour
+and firewood, a shelter for their heads, and their rugs and rags to
+sleep under. The Turkish officers asked, What more could people want?
+What they wanted was the Turks out of the island for ever, but it was of
+no use to say that. Such a remark on our part might have been thought
+personal.
+
+Sometimes during our stay we went over to the town of Canea, where the
+only things of interest were--first, a red-hot consul, who sympathized
+so violently with the Cretans that he had lost all his influence with
+the Turks, to whom, of course, he was accredited; and, secondly, the
+fine old Venetian slips and galley-houses, in such preservation as
+almost to make one fancy that the days of Francesco Prioli, the admiral,
+had not yet departed.
+
+At Suda Bay there was a large Turkish camp, which was interesting for an
+hour or two. About its outskirts it had a curious collection of
+half-savage camp-followers and hangers-on, the close inspection of whom
+on their own ground, with their queer ways of butchering and cooking and
+what not, was interesting, but not altogether unattended with a spice of
+danger to a solitary _Giaour_. We had visited and entertained the
+Russians and the Austrians, and they had returned our civilities and
+tried to make things cheerful; but we were very weary of Suda Bay long
+before orders came permitting us to go over to Smyrna; which place, when
+we got there, seemed a very Naples by comparison with Canea.
+
+The Bay of Smyrna is far famed as a fine one. The _imbat_, or
+sea-breeze, usually blows every day and all day long, so that, however
+close one may lie to the town, the odors from its filthy, narrow streets
+are all blown the other way--sufficiently rich, one would think, to
+fertilize any soil over which they may be wafted. I suppose there is no
+better instance of the whited sepulchre than Smyrna. The view of the
+city and its environs from an anchorage in the bay, with the sun shining
+upon its blue waters dancing and crisping under the brisk imbat; the
+Greek spires and the minarets of the mosques relieved by the cypresses
+of the graveyards; the amphitheatrical situation of the whole place,
+crowned by Mount Pagus with its picturesque ruined castle, and the fine
+mountain-scenery in the background,--must impress every visitor. And yet
+nowhere has the plague so often reaped its harvest, owing to neglect of
+everything which goes to make life clean and decent.
+
+We had been many days in Smyrna, and had eaten many bunches of grapes,
+each as fine as any the spies brought from Eshkol. We had seen the
+famous _rahat-li-coom_ boiling in the caldrons, and then flavored and
+beaten and drawn, and then had eaten it. We had smoked many okes of
+Latakia. We had spent pleasant evenings among the foreign residents at
+Bournabat, where the dress-coat and claret-jug and piano represent
+Western civilization to the merchants and consuls tired after a long day
+in the hot, reeking, noisy town. We had learned to find our way through
+the bazaar without a guide, and had bought shawls and rugs in the
+Persian khan, driving close bargains, as we thought, after hours of
+patient sitting and much smoking and coffee-drinking, and being cheated
+frightfully, as we found out afterward on comparing notes with resident
+ladies. We had ridden up, on donkeys, to the huge ruined castle
+dominating the city, said, popularly, to have been built by the English
+Richard, and certainly dating from the thirteenth century, and we had
+come down from there in a high state of heat, dust and disgust. We had
+been to see figs packed for the market in a place and after a manner
+which made us think of the motto of the Garter. We had gone to see the
+Whirling Dervishes, and had witnessed the drill of the Turkish nizam at
+the grand new barracks. We had visited the English military cemetery
+formed in Crimean days, and had experienced a strange home-feeling as we
+read the familiar names on the headstones. We had had sailing-parties on
+the bay for consuls and consulesses, landing at Sanjak Kalessi to take
+luncheon and to see the huge old-fashioned guns in the fort, with their
+stone balls (of granite or marble, two feet in diameter), once thought
+so formidable. We had been the round of the Greek cafes which flourish
+in such numbers in Smyrna, where polyglot concerts and the worst
+features of the _cafe chantant_ seem never to tire their patrons. We had
+seen a Persian caravan start--a sight well worth rising early for, if
+only to see their outlandish drivers lash the loads upon the camels,
+which groan and bellow and scold during the operation, retracting their
+hare-lips, showing their long yellow teeth, and projecting from their
+mouths the very hideous and peculiar bag of flesh and blue color; in
+which condition they attain a point of repulsiveness possessed by no
+other animal I know of.
+
+An official reception and visit by the pacha had of course been
+accomplished, both parties seeming to be about equally bored by the
+ceremony, and Smyrna seemed, for us, to be pretty well "played out." We
+were reduced to dropping small coin over the taffrail for expectant men
+and boys to dive for through the clear blue water, and to betting upon
+the time of arrival of the Austrian Lloyds or the Russian mail-steamer.
+
+Clearly, this was not a wholesome state to be in; and knowing this, a
+Good Samaritan, our acting consul, Mr. G----, proposed as a distraction
+trips to neighboring places of interest, especially to Ephesus and
+Magnesia. They were both to be reached by rail, and so near as to
+require but a single day's absence, which was of importance to us, as we
+were expecting orders to sail at any moment.
+
+The first-mentioned place naturally attracted us most, from its
+association with our youthful studies, both biblical and secular; and so
+it was decided that we should make a day of it at Ephesus, and have a
+picnic. The party consisted of our consul and his two nieces, very
+excellent specimens of Levantine-born people of English stock; an
+Armenian gentleman, Mr. A----, and his wife; and three of our officers.
+Due preparation was made by kind Mr. G---- in the way of sending hampers
+of provision and wine, and in ordering horses to meet us at Aiasulouk,
+the nearest station to Ephesus, and about fifty miles by rail from
+Smyrna.
+
+We were obliged to start very early in the morning, for there was only
+one daily passenger-train each way on the Smyrna and Aidin Railroad. The
+road was far from being remunerative to the bond- and stock-holders at
+that time, and I fancy it has not been so since. There seemed, indeed,
+scant reason for any passenger-train at all, for, besides our own party,
+there were only two or three Zaptiehs, truculent-looking fellows, a
+couple of English merchants and some rayahs.
+
+The contrast between the bustling noise and modern associations of the
+railway-train and the mediaeval-looking environs of Smyrna, through which
+it threaded its way, was sufficiently striking to occupy one's thoughts
+for some time after starting, especially as alongside the railway ran
+for some distance the caravan-route, already filled by strings of camels
+and their drivers--most picturesque objects in such a landscape. Most
+of the native traders prefer that time-honored mode of transportation to
+the iron horse, and a large proportion of the merchandise received at
+this most important commercial centre came on the backs of camels, mules
+and asses. Aidin, the southern terminus of the road on which we were
+travelling, is a great depot of the figs which we have all eaten from
+infancy put up in drums; and the freight of these is one of the
+principal sources of revenue to the railway. That more products of the
+soil are not sent in this way is rather the fault of the wretched
+government than of the rayahs or agricultural laborers. They are ground
+to the very earth by iniquitous taxation, and only manage to live from
+hand to mouth in what should be a land of plenty.
+
+After the railroad turns southward it follows a broad valley between two
+low mountain-ridges, the western one being rather precipitous. Here and
+there were ledges which were occupied by the flocks of Bedouins and of
+Yourouks (a true nomad race, speaking a Turkish dialect), as well as by
+their low, broad black tents, scarcely distinguishable at that
+elevation. These people had encroached upon land formerly cultivated and
+very fertile--in some places merely in the fallow-time, but in others in
+consequence of the proper tillers of the soil being driven away,
+hopeless from endless exactions on the part of the greedy pachas and
+kaimacans set over them. There was one comfort. They got little from the
+Bedawee or the Yourouks, who flitted when tax-time came. These hills had
+quite recently been the scene of the exploits of Kitterji Janni, a
+celebrated robber-chief not long gone to his account. From all we heard
+of him he was not altogether a bad fellow, but robbed the rich and gave
+to the poor in a quite Rinaldo-Rinaldini sort of style.
+
+We were already on friendly terms with all our entertainers except the
+Armenian lady, the wife of Mr. A----, whom we now met for the first
+time. She was still a young woman, tall, with a very comely face and
+laughing black eyes, but hugely fat, as Armenians are apt to become
+very early. She was dressed in bright colors and in the latest Parisian
+style, including the bonnet and parasol. A jolly, wholesome, honest look
+and manner prepossessed us in her favor, but, unfortunately, she did not
+speak a word of either English or French. Her husband, tall and fat too,
+was a good fellow, and, unlike his wife (who possessed only Turkish,
+Greek and Armenian), spoke in addition French, Italian and English with
+great ease and fluency. Indeed, the Armenians are the best of the
+different nationalities of Asia Minor and Syria: diligent in business,
+moderately honest, good linguists and accountants, they have more
+dignified manners and stability than the Fanariot Greeks, and more
+brains than the Turks. They retain their physical type as distinctly as
+do the Parsees in India, and are equally ready to turn an honest penny,
+_en gros_ and _en detail_.
+
+We rattled along the excellent railway in a style calculated to make the
+"limited express" look to its laurels, and in less than two hours drew
+up at the station of Aiasulouk. Here the western chain of hills which we
+had skirted ceases, and the great marshy plain of Ephesus opens out, the
+river Cayster meandering through it. The insignificant station-house and
+platform, with a small coffee-house and some dwellings, reminded me of a
+prairie station in our Western country. But the eye was at once
+attracted by something we should not find in the Western World--to wit,
+some ruins, large, roofless, but with solid walls, two domes, some
+pinnacles and a graceful minaret. These are the ruins of the mosque of
+Sultan Selim, called by the Greeks the church of St. John, though it was
+certainly not the church under which the saint was buried. There are the
+remains of a Christian church behind those of the mosque, and below a
+ruined Turkish castle with a Roman gateway which crowns the hill still
+farther north. The apse of this ruined church, also called St. John by
+the native Greeks, is still visited and venerated by them.
+
+A ruined aqueduct stalked across the plain from east to west, bearing
+high in air the rude nests of numerous storks, which were to be seen
+sitting or standing on their nests or flying deliberately to and fro
+with that air of being perfectly at home which belongs to storks in
+whatever part of the world they may chance to make their sojourn. This
+aqueduct received its water from a tunnel in the eastern range, and was
+probably the principal source of supply for the city in Roman times. The
+ruins of another (tunnelled) aqueduct have been discovered of late years
+coming from the mountains to the south of the city; and this is probably
+much older than the first named, as the Greeks preferred that mode of
+conducting water wherever practicable, their subterranean channels, a
+sort of syphon arrangement, being in use long before any of the Roman
+aqueducts were built. The fact is, that the Greeks early found out that
+water would find its own level, while the Romans, if they knew the fact,
+did not always act upon it.
+
+Far off from the railway-station, to the west and south-west, in the
+midst of the dreary marshy plain, rose Mount Coressus, about which as a
+centre formerly clustered the imperial city of Diana. Hardly a moving
+thing was in sight but the flying storks and the waving green patches of
+rushes and of grain bowed by the strong imbat, which wafted
+cloud-shadows over the rather melancholy landscape. The peasants who
+till the arable part of the plain only come down there to work at the
+planting and the harvest, and live at Kirkenjee, a town on the
+mountain-side. Malaria does not permit them to live nearer to their
+work. Indeed, the traces of the swamp-poison were plainly seen in the
+faces of the railway employes and other residents in the vicinity of the
+station. While we were taking this glance about us our hampers were
+deposited on the platform and the train rattled off again with great
+briskness, as if time were of any importance, and as if the whole
+arrangement were not an anachronism in this part of the world!
+
+We were to return to have our picnic at the ruins on our right, after
+which we should be in readiness for the evening train; but just now the
+great thing was to get to horse and to finish the necessary
+sight-seeing before the heat of the day if possible. And so the horses
+were brought up. Such horses! Plucky enough, but small and lean and
+scraggy, of all colors and all degrees of ugliness. Three English
+side-saddles had been brought out in the train for the ladies, while the
+men of the party took the horse-gear provided by the owner of the
+animals, instruments of torture known as Turkish saddles. The two young
+ladies, light weights, were soon mounted. Then the horse intended for
+the Armenian lady was brought up alongside the platform, and her husband
+placed her upon the side-saddle after a careful tightening of girths.
+When the horse, which seemed lighter than his burden, moved away, the
+saddle at once began to turn in a very deliberate fashion, depositing
+the fair rider gently upon the ground. There they were, the rider seated
+quietly upon the turf, and the side-saddle pendulous between the horse's
+legs, the animal apparently much puzzled to know what to make of the
+strange machine, but evidently not intending any such nonsense as
+running away. The men rushed at the animal, righted the saddle, and
+hauled away at the girths until the horse became quite wasp-like in
+form. He was then led back to the platform, and the lady's ponderous
+form was once more placed on the side-saddle, only to repeat the turning
+operation, gravity asserting itself with all the ease and certainty
+belonging to natural laws. Our laughter was by this time uncontrollable,
+the good-natured Armenian joining in it heartily, and a consultation was
+held to determine what was to be done. She was out for a day's pleasure,
+and evidently did not mean to be left behind. Finally, it was determined
+that she should take one of the other saddles; and she mounted one
+accordingly, the horse then moving off slowly, but well enough, as the
+weight was evenly balanced. I have seldom seen a jollier sight than that
+portly dame, in her resplendent skirts and spick-and-span French bonnet
+and parasol, mounted _en cavalier_.
+
+Having discreetly and safely accomplished this difficult piece of
+business, we all set off by a narrow footpath, muddy in many places,
+toward the site of the ancient city. We passed patches of cultivated
+ground here and there, a good deal of which was tobacco, but for the
+most part our way was through marsh-grass and low bushes. Nearly a mile
+north-east of the ruins of the city we passed what the best authorities
+positively say are the ruins of the temple. The archaeologists have been
+quarrelling over this point for generations, and some think that the
+ruins are those of a great Christian fane. The fact is, that almost all
+the ruins have been quarries of building- and lime-stone for centuries,
+and those edifices which stood farthest to the east and north-east, as
+the temple did, suffered most because most accessible.
+
+I do not propose to inflict upon the reader a list of the ruins which we
+saw, some well authenticated, and some not. It is not every mind,
+however well regulated, that will bear the personal inspection of ruins,
+much less a catalogue of them.
+
+We passed on, still westward, skirting the rocky Mount Coressus, on the
+western side of which was the great theatre, then in process of
+excavation by Mr. Wood, who has since published an elaborate account of
+his discoveries. Far toward the west stretched the ruins where had been
+the markets, the stadium and the ports, with crumbling walls and towers
+of all stages of antiquity, Greek, Roman and Byzantine. One of the
+towers or forts, on an elevation to the westward, and of somewhat
+cyclopean construction, passes popularly for "St. Paul's Prison."
+
+Far to the west glittered the sea in the Bay of Scala Nova, and beyond
+rose the mountains of Samos, still famed for fruity wine. It is
+generally supposed that the sea once came up to the site of Ephesus, but
+there is no good reason for the belief. The Cayster has undoubtedly in
+the course of ages brought down and deposited much soil, and has formed
+a delta, but we know that in the palmy days of the city a long canal,
+with solid quays of cut stone, led the ships up to the two ports. The
+remains of these canals have been traced for a long way, showing that
+the distance to the sea was always considerable, while the ports are
+still defined by the extra-luxuriant growth of bulrushes and cat-tails.
+
+We had stopped at the theatre to examine the curious sculptures
+collected there by the excavators, and to enjoy the view. To do this we
+all dismounted, with the exception of the Armenian lady, who mildly but
+firmly declined to descend, no doubt feeling that there would be a
+difficulty in remounting where there was no railway-platform. In her own
+mind she no doubt said with MacMahon, "J'y suis! j'y reste!" Mounting
+again, we rode round to the south of Coressus, passing along a regular
+street, with the remains of paving and curbing, parallel with the
+southern wall of the ancient city, which ran along the declivity of
+Mount Pion. Here was pointed out the tomb of St. Luke. Extensive
+excavations were being made near here under English auspices, and tombs
+were daily being discovered, both pagan and early Christian. On the very
+day of our visit a substantial tomb had been exposed, cut clearly and
+deeply into the stone of which was the inscription in Greek, "Alexander
+the Rich."
+
+The sun by this time was more than warm, and we were three or four miles
+from our luncheon. So the horses' heads were turned toward Aiasulouk; on
+which sign of being homeward bound they developed a speed little to be
+expected from their looks and previous conduct. Passing a breach in the
+wall of the ancient city, more tombs and the remains of an extensive
+colonnade, we came out upon the marshy plain which we had crossed once
+before, having completely circled Coressus. On the left, as we rode
+along, the ruins of the church dedicated to the Seven Sleepers were
+pointed out to us. The church or chapel was cut out of the solid rock as
+to the walls, with a groined roof of stone. We have all heard of the
+"Seven Sleepers" from our boyhood, perhaps the toughest yarn incident to
+that period. The Turks and Persians have their legends about them as
+well as the Christians. The Mohammedans preserve one set of names and
+the Christians another, so an inquirer may take his choice. The Moslems
+certainly make the most of the legend, for they place the names of the
+Sleepers upon buildings to prevent their being burned, and upon swords
+to prevent them from breaking; and they preserve the name of the dog
+which was shut up with them. The legend refers to the persecution of the
+Christians in the reign of Diocletian--some say the Decian persecution.
+The story goes that seven noble youths of Ephesus (being Christians and
+under persecution) fled to this cave for refuge--were pursued,
+discovered and walled in. In this dreadful condition they were
+miraculously put into a sleep which lasted, some say two, some three,
+hundred years.
+
+The Koran relates the tale in a circumstantial way, regarding Moslems
+persecuted by Christians of course. It declares that the sun, out of
+respect for these young martyrs, altered his course, so that twice in
+the day he might shine upon the cavern. The name of the dog, "Kit Mehr,"
+has always appeared in the traditions of the Mussulmans, but I believe
+no name has been preserved for him in the Christian story. This dog,
+having consumed three hundred years in standing erect, growling and
+guarding his masters' slumbers, was for his faithfulness considered
+worthy of translation to heaven. He was admitted to that beatitude in
+company with Abraham's ram, Balaam's ass, the foal upon which Jesus rode
+into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, and Mohammed's mare upon which he
+ascended to heaven.
+
+What says Alcoran?--"When the youths betook them to the cave they said,
+'O our Lord! grant us mercy from before thee, and order for us our
+affairs aright!' ... And thou wouldst have deemed them awake, though
+they were sleeping; and we turned them to the right and to the left; and
+in the entrance lay their dog with paws outstretched. Hadst thou come
+suddenly upon them thou wouldst surely have turned thy back on them in
+flight, and have been filled with fear of them.... Some say, 'There
+were three, their dog the fourth;' others say, 'Five, their dog the
+sixth,' guessing at the secret; others say, 'Seven, and their dog the
+eighth.' Say, 'My Lord best knoweth the number: none save a few shall
+know them.' Therefore be clear in thy discussions about them, and ask
+not any Christian concerning them. Haply, my Lord will guide me that I
+may come near to the truth of this story with correctness.... And they
+tarried in this cave three hundred years, and nine years over."
+
+Half an hour brought us back to Aiasulouk and the mosque of Sultan
+Selim. Here everything seemed still more quiet than when we left. Even
+the storks were sitting or standing in a meditative posture, not one
+flying about. The railway porters and some rayahs were lying on the
+platform in the enjoyment of their midday slumbers, their heads and
+faces carefully wrapped up in their capotes, while their bare, bronzed
+shanks and huge feet, in shapeless red shoes, projected in what seemed
+absurd disproportion to the rest of their bodies. I must make an
+exception. There was one wide-awake individual awaiting us, the owner of
+the horses. He was no sooner paid for the hire of his animals than,
+tying them fast, he went into the miserable little cafe; and we found
+the animals still made fast, still saddled, unwatered and unfed, when we
+took the evening train, the owner being descried in the house of
+entertainment at work at a nargileh, and evidently the worse for raki.
+
+It is rather a difficult thing to acknowledge, in the face of the great
+ruins then about us, with all their associations, that the thought of
+our dinner was by this time uppermost in the minds of nearly all our
+company. I have generally found, however, in much journeying about this
+wicked world, that the amount of condescension and interest with which
+one looks upon ancient remains depends very much upon the company in
+which one finds one's self, the state of the weather and the state of
+one's stomach.
+
+Our worthy entertainer was a man of the world, and understood this
+little trait of humanity; so he led us straight to the roofless mosque,
+where we were shaded from the afternoon sun, but at the same time had
+his cheerful reflection from the upper part of the marble walls, from
+which trailed and waved lovely vines and parasites. There we found,
+spread upon a spotless cloth which rested on a clean-swept though
+cracked pavement parqueted in different marbles, a most delightful and
+plentiful luncheon. Shawls and rugs were placed, and we fell to at once,
+the Armenian lady playing her part as manfully as she had done in the
+saddle, and causing grilled fowls, kibabs and claret-cup to disappear in
+a way which reflected upon the capacity of some of the males of the
+party.
+
+We had nearly finished our repast when a gypsy-woman peeped in at one of
+the doorways, but with instinctive good manners retired again until we
+had done with dessert and cigarettes were lighted. Then she came into
+the huge unroofed hall in which we were, and brought a pretty girl of
+about twelve and a boy of ten, who danced for our amusement a wild sort
+of prance with a castanet accompaniment. The mother then begged leave to
+divine our fortunes from the coffee-grounds in the cups, with the
+contents of which we had just wound up our feast. There is this
+difference between Levantine coffee and that made in our Western World:
+_grounds_ are essential to the one, and are eagerly shaken up and
+swallowed, while in our parts the grounds are the opprobrium of the
+cook. There were, however, grounds enough left for the gypsy. But she
+made a very mild use of them mostly, predicting "good health and a good
+fig-season" to an American officer who did not grow figs and who had the
+constitution of a horse. Then she took a handful of pebbles, shells and
+the small cubes of stone extracted from ancient mosaic floors, and threw
+them broadcast upon a very dirty cotton handkerchief, predicting from
+their relative positions the fortunes of the two young ladies. As
+interpreted by one of the servants the prediction was decidedly hazy. It
+may have lost in being translated, but it amounted to this: "Him husband
+hab--werry good: plenty piastre got." A very small gratuity sent our
+gypsy friend off perfectly satisfied after salaams and kissing the hands
+of all the men of the party. Nobody ever kisses women's hands in the
+East--at least in public.
+
+The conscientious member of the party, who "understood we had come
+mainly to inspect the ruins, and not for a picnic," and who had all day
+been very uncomfortable at the slight put upon antiquity by our light
+conduct in the face of so many centuries, now insisted upon at least a
+glance at the fine ruins in which we then were. They were well worthy of
+a close inspection, but I don't propose to inflict a description upon
+the reader. I may, however, mention a particularly picturesque minaret
+of very solid construction. Up the winding steps of this we all filed
+except the fat lady, who sat on the pavement below cross-legged, smoking
+a cigarette and smiling up at us benignly through the blue wreaths
+circling round her head from under the Paris hat.
+
+After enjoying the view of the plain and the encircling hills with the
+satisfaction of persons who had "done" the thing and had not to do it
+again, we began to inspect the minaret itself and the dressed stone
+parapet against which we leaned; and there we found the name of the
+everlasting English (or American) snob who seems to pervade the universe
+for the sake of cutting or writing his name and the date of his visit
+upon every coign of vantage to which he can get access. Our Armenian
+friend, Mr. A----, pointed out that there were few Italian names in this
+record of fools, and scarcely any French or German; but Herostratus
+appears weak in comparison with our English and American travellers in
+the desire for cheap fame, for he had only to make a fire, a thing done
+in a very few moments, while the travelling snob must have worked
+industriously for an hour or two, and made his hands very sore, and
+probably spoiled a knife, in satisfying his aspirations.
+
+The portals of this mosque are very fine. No doubt the greater part of
+the material for the building came from the ruins of Ephesus, but the
+portals and other principal points are of original design, and most
+undoubtedly erected by true architects and sculptors. They are
+Saracenic, not quite up to the examples we find in Spain and in Sicily,
+and in a modified and debased form in Morocco and elsewhere on the coast
+of Barbary. The inscriptions from the Koran are most elaborately and
+beautifully cut, and still in excellent preservation. The Moslem
+peasantry would not touch them, and the Christian rayahs are afraid to
+do so. There are, of course, no figures of men, or even of animals, but
+the charmingly correct arches and doorways, and the delicate tracery
+above them intermingled with Arabic characters, give a lightness to the
+portals which is hardly to be found anywhere east of the Alhambra or the
+Sevillian Alcazar.
+
+But I must leave the ruins, for by this time the sun was sinking, giving
+the plain on which so many important events had occurred a more weird
+and deserted look than ever. The _cavass_ in charge of the servants was
+beginning to be fussy, in fear that while we were dawdling about the one
+train might come and go, and the _sitts_ and _effendis_ be left to the
+limited accommodations of Aiasulouk for the night. So we filed down to
+the station, the servants preceding us with the hampers upon their
+heads, and the Armenian lady stepping out after them fresh and
+fair--indeed, much fresher than most of us, who were rather tired after
+the unusual exertions of the day.
+
+As we retraced our morning's track we saw the same black tents of the
+Yourouks and Bedawee, the smoke from the fires of which mingled with the
+evening exhalations from the valley. Hundreds of sheep, horses and
+camels were now gathering close about the tents which had seemed so
+entirely deserted as we passed in the morning. There was no other moving
+thing to be seen as we rode north and the evening closed in--no lights
+in peasants' houses or fires on their hearths, for the Levantines are
+"early to bed and early to rise;" in addition to which custom they have,
+under the present paternal rule, acquired the habit of remaining as much
+out of sight as possible.
+
+When we came into the station at Smyrna the night had fallen. A few
+flickering lamps and lanterns made the darkness visible, and except the
+porters and necessary officials there was not a soul there, Turk or
+Frank, to take the slightest interest in our movements. The place was
+perfectly deserted and dismal. At last we saw lights approaching, and
+another cavass (belonging to our excellent consul) appeared with lots of
+lanterns and men "with staves and swords," as becometh a Levantine
+consul, and, escorted by these, we walked a long way over the rough,
+slippery paving-stones before we reached the Armenian and Greek
+quarters. Here people were seen sitting in family groups at their doors
+and windows, gossiping with their neighbors and enjoying such evening
+air as is afforded by the streets of Smyrna. But they showed, at any
+rate, some human interest and enjoyment of life, and we must remember
+that they had been accustomed to the smells from childhood. Perhaps the
+weaker ones had all died off, for those we saw were very stout and
+hearty. In all respects their streets presented a pleasant contrast to
+the dark, filthy, windowless, cheerless lanes in the Turkish town, with
+the skulking, snarling, mangy dogs disputing one's right of way, and an
+occasional encounter with a scowling Moslem, lantern in hand and
+homeward bound, who drew up to the wall, and showed by the gleam of our
+lanterns upon his yellow face that he inwardly cursed us all for
+Giaours, and wondered that Allah in His providence permitted us to
+exist. In fact, the Anatolian Turk is still a good Mohammedan of the
+time of Solyman, and not one of the degenerate race of Stamboul.
+
+E.S.
+
+
+
+
+A BIRD STORY.
+
+
+Visible from my study-window, and less than a stone's throw away, is a
+cottage, all tree-embowered and vine-covered, which its owners call "The
+Nest." All over the house, wherever a bird-box can be placed, there you
+are sure to find one. These little homes nestle under the eaves among
+the supporting brackets; they hide under the nooks of the gables; they
+are perched above the windows; they are indeed to be found wherever you
+would be likely to look for them, and in a good many places where you
+would never think of looking. Besides these bird-boxes on the house,
+there are bird-boxes in the trees, bird-boxes airily placed on high
+poles--bird-boxes in all forms, from the plain four-sided salt-box to
+the elaborate Swiss chalet and the pretentious be-spired and be-columned
+meeting-house. Then there are bird-cages--pretty brass cages, with
+tarlatan petticoats to keep the seeds from flying out, and tied with
+such dainty bows of ribbon that one has no need to be told there is a
+woman in the house; there are capacious cages in which brown
+mocking-birds sit all day long echoing back the other birds' songs they
+hear; there are dainty glass cages from Venice, in which Java sparrows
+carry on their ceaseless love-making, billing and cooing for hours and
+hours, as if all life to them was an interminable honeymoon. There is
+also a great white parrot, who, perched in a brass ring, mutters and
+mutters to himself for hours, and hums snatches of tunes, and calls
+imaginary dogs and visionary cats; and when he sees a certain manly form
+coming up the garden-walk is wont to cry out in a miserable mockery of
+tenderness, "Oh, my darling! I'm _so_ glad to see you!" and then smack
+his bill as near like a kiss as he can, and chuckle and laugh and turn
+somersaults, and otherwise disport himself as parrots do when they are
+pleased.
+
+And while all this is going on there comes running out of the house a
+pretty little figure in a fresh muslin dress and with outstretched arms;
+and, strangely enough, she says just what Polly has said, and there is a
+kiss that is no imitation, and a responsive kiss that fairly puts Polly
+to shame; but the bird chuckles and laughs nevertheless.
+
+When all this takes place--and it is no more of an event than the daily
+home-coming of our good neighbor and dear friend Arthur Sterling, Esq.,
+barrister-at-law,--when this home-coming takes place, all the birds at
+The Nest break forth into a merrier song--get so enthusiastic in their
+pipings that you'd think, to hear them, that they would split their
+throats; and still gladder and sweeter and merrier than their song is
+the voice of our dear neighbor's wife, Mistress May Sterling, who pours
+forth, in a ceaseless chattering song, a whole day's accumulation of
+love--yes indeed, a whole lifetime's accumulation; and while the
+rippling flow goes on their two fond hearts sing louder with joy than
+any birds would ever dare to think of singing.
+
+How they love the birds! And why not? Since but for a little bird they
+would not have been together in this sweet little nest, outbilling and
+outcooing the Java sparrows, dwelling in the land of Love's young dream,
+in the sunshine of each other's affection, and ready to declare upon
+oath that there is no night in their lives that isn't radiant with the
+sheen of the honeymoon.
+
+And now I'll tell you the story of a little bird as Mistress May
+Sterling told it to me one evening while her Arthur and I smoked our
+cigars in the moonlight on The Nest's piazza. No: on the whole, Mistress
+Sterling shall tell the story herself: she tells it much better than I
+can.
+
+"Why, yes," she says, "I'll tell it: why not? I love to tell it, for,
+taken altogether, it is the best story I ever heard of.--Kiss me,
+dear."
+
+Arthur having done as he was bidden, Mrs. Sterling begins at once, and
+all you and I have to do is to listen:
+
+"When I was young and giddy--ever and ever so long ago, of course:
+indeed I was quite a girl then, only eighteen--I was, as you may
+imagine, quite a pet with my father--don't laugh, Arthur: you know I
+was--and quite a belle too, I can assure you, with lots of young men
+flinging themselves at my feet and swearing all kinds of oaths about
+fidelity and everlasting affection, and all the other things that young
+and enthusiastic--"
+
+"And inexperienced," put in Arthur.
+
+"Don't interrupt me, sir. Where was I? Oh yes!--that young and
+enthusiastic and inexperienced people are accustomed to swear. And my
+father, who was very stern and had old-fashioned notions--and has now,
+for that matter, dear old papa!--said that, whatever befell, he would
+not on any account give the least encouragement or the slightest
+permission to any lover till I was past twenty years old. Not that I
+cared, only it was such fun to hear the men talk, and me looking
+unutterable things and saying softly, 'You must never say anything to me
+on this subject again till you have papa's consent: he would be very
+angry if he knew what you've said already'! You see, I knew papa's
+will--it is unchangeable as granite: at least I thought it was--and I
+felt perfectly safe.
+
+"This was, you know--no, you don't know--but it was the year I came out
+in society. And I used to go to receptions and all sorts of things with
+papa, and receive his company, and sit at the head of the table, and
+keep house, just as my mother would have done if she'd been living. I
+hardly remember mamma: I was not four years old when she died. And
+society and people's admiration seemed so glorious! I declared I'd never
+marry, but go on to the end of my days saying 'No' to any man that asked
+me, and enjoying such a lot of pity for the poor fellows. I deliberately
+hardened my heart, as many a girl does at that age, and fairly
+pitied--yes, actually pitied--the girls that were so weak as to fall in
+love and get married. I think papa used to encourage me in the feeling,
+for he didn't like to think of losing me out of the house, and he a
+judge and a Congressman, and having ever so much company, and nobody but
+dear old-fashioned Aunt Jane to help him receive them if I was to leave
+him.
+
+"When father was re-elected to Congress we had a glorious reception at
+our house in the country, and among others that came to it was a Mr.
+Sterling, the son of my father's college chum, and a promising young
+sprig of the law, father said. He came to stay a day or two in the house
+as a visitor before the reception, and was to leave the morning after it
+took place."
+
+At this point in the narrative Mr. Arthur bethought him of a letter he
+must write, and begged to be excused for a time--a piece of rare good
+sense on his part, considering how much the story had to do with
+himself.
+
+"During his stay we had been a good deal together. I had been his guide
+to all the famous spots in the neighborhood, and he had been chatty and
+bright, and amused me greatly. We had a little chat in the conservatory
+that evening of the reception, and I told him I was sorry to have him
+leave.
+
+"'Thank you,' he said. 'I would rather hear you say that than anything
+you could have said, except one.'
+
+"'What is that, pray?' I asked.
+
+"'That you would like to see me here again.'
+
+"'Oh,' I replied, 'I never give invitations: papa does that. Of course
+he'll be glad to see you again.'
+
+"'And you?'
+
+"'Why, since you insist upon my saying it, I shall be glad too: you
+amuse me greatly.'
+
+"'So might a tight-rope performer or a performing dog, I suppose?'
+
+"'No: I don't care for such amusements. I like to hear the talk of
+bright men, and you strike me as a very bright man.'
+
+"'It is only the reflection of yourself, Miss Bronson,' he said in a
+cold society tone, which, strange to say, pained me, and I replied that
+I didn't care for compliments: I had plenty of them, and they palled on
+me.
+
+"Then he said, 'Do you want me to tell you the truth, the out-and-out
+truth--the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God?'
+
+"'That's an oath, Mr. Sterling,' I said: 'don't commit yourself.'
+
+"'I do commit myself--I came here to commit myself. I want you to hear
+me out and believe that I realize fully the solemnity of what I am
+saying. I have sought this opportunity to tell you that I love you, Miss
+Bronson.'
+
+"Strangely enough, I wasn't the least moved: I don't think my heart beat
+the least bit faster; and I said, 'Why, Mr. Sterling, how can you know
+anything about me? How can you love me, when you've known me only two
+days, and seen me always on my best behavior? I am a very unlovable
+person: if you only knew me well you'd soon find it out. Of course, if
+you love me, it is all very well for you to tell me so, but I can't
+understand why you should.'
+
+"'Is that all you have to say to me, Miss Bronson?' he asked earnestly.
+
+"'Why, what can I say? You don't know me, and I don't know you; and you
+think you love me, and I don't love you at all. I'm fond of you in a
+certain way, to be sure, but love is quite a different thing. I never
+shall love anybody very much except papa: I never intend to. I'm very
+kind to you, Mr. Sterling, to talk to you as I do. In a few weeks, when
+you've all but forgotten my existence, you'll think of me just enough to
+be grateful to me for talking to you as I have. Love isn't a mushroom to
+spring up in a night: it is an oak to grow and grow, and only come to
+perfection after years and years. You don't love me at all, Mr.
+Sterling: you only think you do.'
+
+"All this time he stood silent, looking more awkward than I ever saw him
+before or have seen him since. Then he put out his hand and said, 'I'll
+bid you good-bye, Miss Bronson: I'm going early in the morning. I shall
+not see you then, so I'll say good-bye now. I am going abroad in a few
+days.'
+
+"'Abroad! where?' I hadn't heard of it, and I felt a strange sort of
+pang--of surprise, I thought.
+
+"'To Leipsic, to finish my studies. I shall be gone a considerable
+time--two years at least. When I return I shall come to you and repeat
+what I've said to-night.'
+
+"'Oh no, you won't: you'll forget all about it. I'd much rather you
+would. Please don't feel bound to come back: I release you from your
+oath, and I shall not expect you.'
+
+"I don't know what more we might have said, but there was a flutter
+among the vines by the door, and we thought some one was near us. We
+were just returning into the adjoining dining-room when a little brown
+bird flew out into the light, and, hopping about among the flowers,
+began chirping in a sad sort of way that caught our attention at once.
+
+"'It is only the little widow,' I said.
+
+"'Lost her mate, eh?' Arthur said carelessly. He wasn't Arthur then, you
+know, but Mr. Sterling.
+
+"'Yes: he's deserted her. She built here in the vines last spring when
+the conservatory was all thrown open. They were such a pair of lovers,
+she and her mate! She raised two broods of little ones, and it was quite
+a domestic revelation for me to see them, they seemed so fond of each
+other, and so happy, and so loving. But a month ago, when the plants
+were brought in and the cold nights began to come on, he left her, and
+she has been sad and heartbroken ever since.'
+
+"'Perhaps he'll come back to her by and by,' said Arthur.
+
+"'Oh no: he'll no more come back to her than you'll come back to me.'
+
+"'Then he's sure to come,' replied Arthur; and just then my father came
+to look for me and bid me join the other guests.
+
+"I didn't see Arthur again that night, and the next day he was gone. I
+never missed anybody so much. Nobody and nothing seemed to fill his
+place. I went into the room he had occupied, and found there a glove
+that he had left behind. I took it to my room and said, 'I'll keep it
+for him till he comes back.' I tried to speak lightly, and was surprised
+and angry at myself that the trivial thought seemed to mean so much.
+
+"The winter wore on, and the little forsaken bird remained in the
+conservatory, and sometimes would fly into the room, and I felt a lonely
+sort of sympathy with it. I used to take the bird in my hand sometimes
+and call it a poor thing, and talk to it, and tell it that it was no
+worse off than many a poor girl or many a young wife, for men were like
+her mate, and promised all sorts of things they didn't mean, and
+couldn't be faithful if they tried. After a while we went to Washington,
+and I saw a great many people and received a great deal of attention.
+The Prussian ambassador had a brother visiting him--a Baron
+Dumbkopf--very handsome, very rich, very distingue, and soon very
+attentive to me. He was constantly at our house, and he was agreeable
+enough and easy to talk to, and very obedient, and very seldom a bore. I
+rather liked him, and papa liked him exceedingly. I wasn't at all
+surprised when one day he suddenly became sentimental and ended by
+offering me his hand.
+
+"'Have you spoken with my father on this subject?' I asked.
+
+"He had not: would I give him permission to do so? I told him that I
+should not even consider his proposition for a moment till he had talked
+with my father; that I never intended to marry without my father's
+consent; and as for falling in love, I was sure I should never do that.
+
+"So he went away to talk with my father, and I felt safe. I hadn't an
+idea papa would do as he did, you see; but the truth is, papas are not
+to be depended upon--at least, not always.
+
+"The next day my father called me into the library and asked me if I
+loved Baron Dumbkopf.
+
+"'No,' I said, 'I don't love him.'
+
+"'Do you like him?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Do you dislike him?'
+
+"'No: I am quite indifferent to him.'
+
+"'He is of a very good family and of excellent character,' said my
+father.
+
+"'I know all that,' I replied. 'Do you wish me to marry him, papa?'
+
+"'I can't say that I wish you to, my daughter, but if you loved him I
+should be pleased for you to have such a husband.'
+
+"I was never more surprised in my life. Then he told me a great many
+things about the baron--how universally he was esteemed, what a position
+he held in society, how wealthy he was, how honorable and how good.
+These things I knew before. They certainly had weight with me in favor
+of the baron: I think they would have had with almost any girl. I asked
+my father if he had given the baron any encouragement, and he replied
+that he had left everything between the baron and myself for settlement.
+
+"The next evening the German came again to woo me with my father's
+sanction. He became very earnest, and I told him that I would not, could
+not, give him any hope. He asked me if it might ever be otherwise, and I
+told him I thought not. 'Well,' he said, 'I shall certainly ask you
+again. I return to Germany in April, and I shall hope to carry home the
+tidings of my betrothal.'
+
+"It was then late in the winter, and pretty soon we returned to the
+country, for father liked to be close to Nature when it burst into its
+new life.
+
+"How nice it seemed to be once more in the old house! I soon found
+myself interested in my old occupations, and most of all in the care of
+the conservatory, which was then all abloom with azaleas and other
+spring-flowering plants. There too was the little widow, as sad as ever,
+but glad to see me back, and more than ready to resume the old
+friendship. We had hardly got into our old routine ways before my father
+announced one morning that the baron Dumbkopf was coming down to say
+good-bye before leaving for Germany. I knew very well what it all meant,
+and I began to think that as it was my father's wish that I should marry
+some time, and that as I could hardly find a husband more suited to his
+ideas, and that as I probably should never fall in love, I might as well
+accept him as anybody. Then I began to think of Arthur. Thoughts of the
+two men crossed and recrossed in my mind, closely woven like the threads
+in a cloth. I used to go and look at his glove and talk to the little
+bird-widow about him, and really was quite angry with myself for having
+him so much in my mind and he so long gone.
+
+"At last the baron came. He was a splendid-looking man, and his manners
+were perfect. These things tell for so much with girls! He came, and one
+morning--I remember it well: it was a cold, blowy spring morning--he
+found me alone in the conservatory and renewed his suit. I was petting
+the little bird when he found me, and he said, 'Dear little bird! he is
+to be envied in having so much tenderness shown him.'
+
+"'It is a female bird,' I said, 'and a forsaken bird, for its mate has
+flown away and left it broken-hearted;' and I began at once to think of
+Arthur, and fell into a reverie.
+
+"The baron interpreted my little speech and my subsequent silence as
+favorable to himself. He really thought I was beginning to pity myself
+because he was going away. 'Ah,' he said, 'you know why I have come?'
+
+"'To say good-bye,' I answered.
+
+"'Perhaps, but to say first that I love you still, and to ask you to be
+my wife.'
+
+"My heart beat rapidly now, and I think the little bird that I was
+holding to my bosom must have felt it, for it began to chirp in a low
+murmur as if it would comfort me.
+
+"'Give me a little time to think,' I said; and, strangely enough, all my
+thinking was of Arthur and his going away, and his promised return; and
+then I said to myself, 'What folly! he has forgotten me. If he had loved
+me he wouldn't have gone till he had my word of love in return. He's
+forgotten all about me.'
+
+"The baron was gaining ground with me: I was reasoning myself into
+something above esteem for him, and I turned to put my hand in his,
+when there was a tap at the window, and the little bird, struggling from
+my hand, burst into such a flood of singing that the whole place was
+drowned with melody.
+
+"'Oh,' I cried, 'her mate has come back! her mate has come back! He is
+fluttering against the window. Do let him in, baron, the poor dear,
+happy little thing!' and I sat down among the azaleas and the budding
+Easter lilies and cried like a baby.
+
+"The poor baron did let the little bird in, and side by side we
+witnessed the joy of their meeting, expressed in a hundred tender little
+caresses.
+
+"At last the baron said, 'You forget, Miss Bronson, you haven't given me
+my answer.'
+
+"'And I can't answer you now,' I said. 'Please forget me. Indeed, I
+don't know what to say to you: I believe I shall say No.'
+
+"'Don't say anything,' he replied. 'I have done wrong. I have not given
+you time to think. I must go now, but a year from now I shall ask you
+the same question again, and then you must say Yes or No; and God grant
+it may be the first!'
+
+"'You are very good,' I said; 'and a year hence I will tell you if I can
+be your wife or not.'
+
+"So the baron went away, and he had hardly been gone a week when I was
+ashamed of having been so much affected by the bird's return. The idea
+of believing in omens! Then a little time further on there came a letter
+from a friend of mine in Leipsic which mentioned Arthur Sterling, spoke
+of him as a young man very popular in society--you know Arthur is most
+fascinating--and said that he was very attentive to a young American
+girl there, a beautiful blond: they were seen everywhere together, and
+report said he was to marry her.
+
+"'It is a lie!' I said to myself: 'he promised to come back to me.' And
+then I said again, 'Why should I be angry? why should I believe him? I
+hardly knew him, and most men are false.' I was such a silly girl, I
+thought. Then father was always speaking of the baron: I could see that
+he was sorry I had not accepted him at once. And Aunt Jane, she had to
+talk to me about it, and say that she couldn't last long, and that
+father was getting old, and that I ought to think about getting married,
+and--Well, you know how women talk to each other about marrying.
+Considering that Aunt Jane had never thought of marrying herself, it
+oughtn't to have had much weight with me, but it did.
+
+"The year wore on. Of course I thought a great deal about Arthur, but I
+thought a good deal about the baron too. The little bird was no longer
+lonesome; and as she and her mate had built themselves a nest, and had
+domestic duties to perform in rearing a brood of young ones, they were
+too much wrapped up in their own affairs to be very companionable. But
+when autumn came again, and the leaves were falling and the cold winds
+blew out of the north, that foolish little mate flew off to the south,
+and the little forsaken thing came back into the conservatory and wanted
+to be comforted. And we did comfort her as best we could. All the winter
+through she was in and out from the conservatory to the dining-room,
+becoming very friendly and answering to her name instantly: papa had
+named her Niobe.
+
+"In due course of time the early spring came round again, and one April
+morning there came a letter from the baron. He asked me for my answer:
+should he come and take me with him to his German home? I showed the
+letter to papa, and all he said was, 'My daughter, he would make you an
+excellent husband--such a one as your poor mother would wish for you
+were she alive. I hope you'll consider the matter well before you say
+No.'
+
+"I thought it all over. Why not? Yes, I would write to the baron and say
+Yes. Arthur was away; he'd never come back; he was in love with that
+pretty blond. Was it likely I was going to ruin my life for him? I had
+too much sense for that. I would just go and throw his old glove into
+the fire and all thoughts of him to the winds. So I went for the glove,
+and kissed it--foolish thing!--and put it back in my treasure-box, and
+went on thinking of Arthur more than ever. Then I remonstrated with
+myself for my foolishness, and took my writing-desk in my lap and sat
+down in the conservatory to write to the baron. I began my letter 'My
+dear Arthur,' and then had to begin again, and started fairly with 'My
+dear baron.' Then I tried to frame a proper sentence to start with, but
+that desolate little bird came flying to my shoulder, and chirped so
+sadly and so persistently that it put me all out.
+
+"'Oh, you poor foolish little thing!' I said: 'anybody would think there
+were no other birds in the world but your faithless mate.'
+
+"The bird fluttered and chirped and talked with a purring song, which I
+fancied to say, 'Oh, my poor heart! poor heart! poor broken heart!
+Alas!' and it was such a strong impression that I put my hand to my own
+heart and held on there, while I laid my head on one side till it
+touched the feathers of the bird on my shoulder; and so we sat silently
+musing.
+
+"What do you think roused us? There was a quick fluttering in the bird's
+breast. She flew away from my shoulder: she flew to the top of the
+highest azalea, and she sung--oh, how she sung! Joy, victory over doubt,
+faith crowned, glimpses of heaven in the spring sunlight,--they were all
+in that song. I knew in a minute what had come. I threw open the sash,
+and out of the sunshine, borne in with the odors of the new grass and
+budding trees, came a little brown bird, tired as from a long journey,
+but with a song of greeting that overtopped even the song of welcome
+that awaited him.
+
+"I watched them a moment, as if in a spell, and then I tore up my letter
+to the baron and tossed it among the flowers; and the tears came in my
+eyes, and I said aloud, 'Oh, Arthur, I do love you--I know I do! If you
+don't come back I shall die.'
+
+"'Then, dear, you shall not die, for I am here;' and the foolish
+boy--for it was Arthur come back and stolen upon me to surprise me--put
+his dear strong arms about me, and I was ready to faint, and cried a
+little on his shoulder, and he kissed me, and we went in to papa and
+talked it all over; and he told me about his finishing his studies and
+hurrying home, and all about the blond, a cousin of his who was out in
+Leipsic with her mother studying music, and they'd made a home for him,
+and said I should know them and they should know me; and it was all
+lovely. And the result of it all is, here we are, and we love birds, and
+we love each other. And do you wonder at it? And here's Arthur, coming
+back from his letters. And, and--Come and kiss me, Arthur."
+
+And so the little lady finished with a kiss, as she had begun, and the
+parrot moved uneasily on his perch at being disturbed with conversation
+at so late an hour, and the Java sparrows twittered a little; and I rose
+to go, only asking, "And the baron?"
+
+"Oh! he's married since--such a lovely wife!--and I dare say is as
+grateful to the bird as Arthur and I. You see, he was only
+infatuated--Arthur and I were in love."
+
+"Good-night," from me.
+
+"Good-night, good-night," from them; and I heard another kiss as I went
+down the walk.
+
+WM. M.F. ROUND.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOCKING-BIRD.
+
+
+    A golden pallor of voluptuous light
+        Filled the warm Southern night:
+    The moon, clear orbed, above the sylvan scene
+        Moved like a stately queen.
+    So rife with conscious beauty all the while,
+        What could she do but smile
+    At her own perfect loveliness below,
+        Glassed in the tranquil flow
+    Of crystal fountains and unruffled streams?
+        Half lost in waking dreams,
+    As down the loneliest forest-dell I strayed,
+        Lo! from a neighboring glade,
+    Flashed through the drifts of moonshine, swiftly came
+        A fairy shape of flame.
+    It rose in dazzling spirals overhead,
+        Whence, to wild sweetness wed,
+    Poured marvellous melodies, silvery trill on trill:
+        The very leaves grew still
+    On the charmed trees to hearken; while for me,
+        Heart-thrilled to ecstasy,
+    I followed--followed the bright shape that flew,
+        Still circling up the blue,
+    Till as a fountain that has reached its height
+        Falls back, in sprays of light
+    Slowly dissolved, so that enrapturing lay
+        Divinely melts away
+    Through tremulous spaces to a music-mist,
+        Soon by the fitful breeze
+          How gently kissed
+    Into remote and tender silences.
+
+PAUL H. HAYNE.
+
+
+
+
+POPULAR MARRIAGE CUSTOMS OF SICILY.
+
+
+The customs of the Sicilian people in regard to the celebration of
+marriages are so numerous and so strange that were I to attempt to
+describe them all I should furnish not only the material for a volume,
+but also for a series of quaint pictures. I shall not pretend to collect
+the most of them, but only present a few which will awaken, I trust,
+some interest in those who study popular traditions and the comparative
+history of customs and usages.
+
+Let us begin by supposing two young people in love with each other. The
+parents of the young girl are aware of the fact, but have shut their
+eyes because the match is a good and fitting one. When, on taking her
+daughter to mass, the mother has noticed her blush on meeting the young
+man more than once, she has pretended not to notice it. At night she has
+heard some love-song at the door, and seen that her daughter was the
+first to awaken at it, but has remained oblivious of this also. She
+knows all, and pretends to know nothing--sees her daughter careful about
+her dress, often hears mentioned a name dear to her, mentions it herself
+with praise, and contributes without seeming to do so to increase that
+love which sooner or later becomes a subject of conversation to
+neighbors, to friends, to all. The matter is known, and it is time for
+the parents of the young man to go or send to the parents of the young
+girl to ask her hand.
+
+Here begins the business of the future marriage. The young man's mother
+visits the girl's mother, and gives her to understand that they wish to
+make the match, and therefore would like to know whether their proposal
+is agreeable and what dower the girl will have. The other mother, after
+the usual compliments have been exchanged, either gives at once, or
+promises to give, a memorandum of all that she is able to bestow on her
+daughter as dower.
+
+This is the most usual way of arranging a marriage, but the manner
+formerly varied, and still varies, in places. In Noto, in the province
+of Syracuse, fifty years ago the mother of the young man put under her
+Greek mantle the reed of a loora, and going to the house of a young girl
+asked her mother if she had a reed like that. If the match was
+acceptable, the reed was found at once: if not, there was no reed, or
+they could not find it, or they would look for it.[14] In the county of
+Modica the mother selected the future daughter-in-law by trial. She went
+to one of the young girls of the neighborhood, and if she found her busy
+the matter was settled: if idle, she went home again, repeating three
+times the word _abrenuntio_, Sicilianized as well as possible.[15]
+
+The memorandum above mentioned, written, according to traditional usage,
+by some one for this particular occasion, is sent wrapped up in a silk
+handkerchief which belongs by right to the young man. As soon as the
+memorandum is sent and accepted the announcement of the engagement or
+the betrothal takes place. On this occasion the relatives of the parties
+are present, and at the proper moment one of the parents of the young
+girl announces in a solemn tone the future marriage, and makes known the
+time (generally it is a matter of years) which will elapse before it is
+celebrated. Everything is religiously accepted by the guests and the
+interested parties, and after congratulations have been offered a
+banquet or supper (technically termed _trattamento_, "entertainment")
+takes place, in which a sort of fried pastry called _sfincuini_ plays an
+important part, accompanied by filberts, almonds and chestnuts. The
+whole is washed down by copious draughts of wine.
+
+The manner in which the betrothal is celebrated is sometimes very
+curious. At Salaparuta, in the province of Trapani, the girl takes her
+place in the centre of the room: her future mother-in-law then enters
+and parts her hair, places a ring on her finger, gives her a
+handkerchief and kisses her. At Assaro, in the province of Catania, the
+young man presents his betrothed with a red ribbon, which she braids
+into her hair as a sign of her betrothal, and does not leave off until
+the wedding. This custom is observed in many places in Sicily, and is
+called the _'nzingata_ (from _'nzinga_, "sign"). In the county of Modica
+the girl is veiled in a broad white veil, tied under the chin with a
+purple ribbon. This custom of the ribbon (also called '_ntrizzaturi_,
+"head-dress") often takes the place of the formal proposal and
+announcement of the betrothal. In a popular song a young man in making
+love to a girl offers her a red ribbon, which is the same as offering
+her his hand.[16] As soon as the betrothal has taken place, the _fiance_
+must think at once about a present for his _fiancee_. This varies, of
+course, according to the ability and taste of the giver. Formerly it was
+a tortoise-shell comb, a silver needlecase, a silk handkerchief,
+ear-rings, finger-rings, gloves, etc. Now-a-days nothing is left but
+rings and a certain silver arrangement to support the hair, and called,
+like the ribbon above mentioned, _'ntrizzaturi_. In Milazzo and its
+territory the fiance makes a present of a small gold cross for the neck,
+an engagement-ring and a dish of fish.
+
+The fiancee returns the gift, usually with under-clothing,
+handkerchiefs, etc. During the betrothal, while the lovers are enjoying
+their love, the fiance does not let the principal festivals of the year
+pass without expressing his affection by suitable presents--at Easter, a
+piece of pastry containing an egg, or a little wax lamb; on the feast of
+St. Peter, keys made of pastry, with honey or confectionery or cinnamon,
+according to the ability of the giver. On All Souls' Day he gives candy,
+fruit, etc.; on St. Martin's, a kind of biscuit named after the saint;
+at Christmas, cakes and pastry containing dried fruit; and finally, for
+his fiancee's birthday, something still finer.
+
+We have now reached the eve of the wedding, and the time has arrived for
+the valuation of the bride's trousseau--a ceremony known by different
+names in different parts of Sicily, but usually termed _stima_. Let us
+enter for a moment the house of the bride. Everything is in a pleasant
+state of confusion. Friends and relatives of the betrothed have been
+invited to the ceremony, and take part in it with an air of satisfied
+curiosity. Upon the large bed of the bride's mother is displayed the
+trousseau, sorted according to the various articles composing it, while
+from lines stretched across the room hang the dresses and suits of
+clothes. Near by are tables, chairs and chests of drawers. A woman
+called the _stimatura_ ("appraiser") examines each article of the outfit
+and appraises its value, announcing the approximate price, sometimes
+publicly, sometimes secretly to the accountant. The appraisal is final,
+and generally in favor of the fiancee, for the value of the trousseau
+goes to increase the dower. Not infrequently the mother of the fiance
+complains of the exaggerations of the _stimatura_, and disagreeable
+recriminations follow. Finally, the parents of the bride bestow on her a
+certain number of "ounces,"[17] which the _stimatura_ announces in a
+solemn tone. If the parents have anything else to give their daughter in
+the way of money or silver, they announce it with the utmost gravity,
+while the fiance, for his part, declares that he will give his wife
+after his death the sum of twenty or thirty ounces as a gift. This
+present is known at Salaparuta by the name of _buon amore_, at Palermo
+as _verginista'_--true _pretium sanguinis_ which the giver does not
+possess, and which the wife will never receive. At this valuation, in
+some parts of the island, each one of the relatives offers to the
+parties gifts of jewelry and clothing, which are requited by similar
+gifts from the bride and groom.
+
+The civil marriage precedes the religious, which, however, is more
+important to the people than the former: hence the evening after the
+civil marriage the groom goes about his business as though he were not
+yet married. The religious marriage, on the contrary, is a festal
+occasion. The hour differs according to habits and family tastes. In
+Salaparuta the marriage takes place before night--in Ficarazzi, before
+daybreak, a favorite time for those contracting a second marriage. In
+Palermo the wedding formerly took place late in the evening or in the
+night, whence there was a necessity for attendants with lighted torches.
+If the Sicilian Jews preferred to go in the dark to their synagogues,
+and considered themselves favored by King Peter when in 1338 he allowed
+them to go to their weddings with a single lantern, the Christians were
+not satisfied with four or six lights, but wanted twenty or more--an
+actual procession. Frederick II. in 1292 limited the number of lights to
+twelve only, six for each party. Now, at Palermo, the wedding takes
+place at any hour of the day or night, and only the poorest walk to the
+church: the others ride in carriages paid for by those using them at so
+much apiece. In the first carriage are the bride and her mother and
+intimate friends--in the second, the other women in the order of
+relationship. The groom occupies the first place in the carriages
+assigned to the men: then come his father, brothers and others. The
+bride is dressed in various ways, and her dress is called _l'abitu di lu
+'nguaggiu_ ("wedding-dress"). In Salaparuta she wears the Greek peplum,
+gathered under the arms; in Terrasini, a dress of blue or some other
+bright color; in Milazzo, a blue silk skirt with wide sleeves; in
+Palermo, a white dress, the _tunica alba_ of the Romans, with a veil
+kept on the head by a wreath of orange-flowers. In Assaro (province of
+Catania) by an old baronial custom the wedding-ring is presented by a
+young man of noble family. Speaking of the wedding-ring, it may be noted
+that formerly it was carefully preserved on a table for many purposes,
+as at Valledolino the whole dress is kept to be used some day as a
+shroud.[18]
+
+There are some parts of the country where the entrance to the church is
+also a ceremony. An old tradition of Palermo, grafted on a popular tale,
+informs us that in certain districts esteemed somewhat rude by the
+inhabitants of the old capital the bride entered the church on
+horseback, erect and proud.[19] In Salaparuta she enters by the lesser
+door of the cathedral and departs by the principal one, afterward
+passing beneath the belfry. In Palermo the newly-wedded pair on leaving
+the church enter the same carriage, and followed by relatives and
+friends take a drive about the city. It is on this occasion that they
+throw to their neighbors confectionery, which they are also accustomed
+to present personally. This custom is a Roman one, in spite of the fact
+that candy has taken the place of the nuts which the bridegroom bestowed
+on the children after the wedding. Outside of Palermo and other large
+cities the confectionery is replaced by roasted chickpeas, alone or
+mixed with beans, almonds, filberts, etc. On the other hand, relatives
+and friends as the bride and groom go by throw after them not only
+confectionery, but dried or roasted fruits, wheat and barley; which they
+call a sign of abundance. In Milazzo the simple ceremony is turned into
+a spectacle: when the pair come out of the church they are suddenly
+received by a perfect hail of confectionery thrown by their nearest
+relatives, from which they strive to escape by quickening their pace or
+running away.[20] In Syracuse salt and spelt are thrown as a symbol of
+wisdom, which recalls the _confarreatio_ of the Romans; in Assaro, salt
+and wheat; nuts and wheat in Modicano; in Terrasini, nuts, chestnuts,
+beans and sweetmeats of honey and flour; in Camporeale, wheat alone. In
+Avola (province of Syracuse) one of the bride's most intimate lady
+friends, upon the arrival of the pair, presents the bride with an
+apronful of orange-leaves, and tossing them in her face exclaims,
+congratulating her, "Contentment and sons!" and scatters orange-leaves
+also over the sill where the bride must pass. Sometimes she breaks at
+her feet two eggs--a truly Oriental symbol of fruitfulness. In the
+county of Modica wine is sprinkled before the door and the bottle
+broken: when the married pair have entered, the husband is offered a
+spoonful of honey, of which he takes half and gives the rest to his
+wife. There gifts of sweetmeats, dried fruits, etc. are given to the
+guests.[21] In Avola a spoonful of honeyed almonds is presented to each
+of the lady-guests--in Marineo (province of Palermo) and in Prizzi clear
+honey and a sip or two of water.
+
+The house of the wedded pair is ornamented with flowers, as we learn
+from the popular Sicilian song: "Flowers of roses: the bride when she
+returns from the church finds the house adorned with flowers." The
+marriage _pro verbo de praesenti in faciem ecclesiae_ is termed
+_'nguaggiarisi_ (and hence the dress above mentioned, _l'abitu di lu
+'nguaggiu_), but the contracting parties are not yet man and wife; and
+to become so it is necessary to undergo another religious ceremony,
+which consists in hearing mass and kneeling before the altar holding a
+lighted wax candle while the priest bestows on them the benediction _pro
+sponso et sponsa_. The old legal grants (_concessi_) to young girls who
+married could not, nor can they now, be claimed without this ceremony;
+and the bride does not enter into possession of the legacy which she has
+acquired until she shows to the proper person the certificate of her
+parish priest that she has been married and espoused (_'nguaggiatu e
+sposatu_). The latter ceremony may take place within a year after the
+marriage. Widows, according to the Roman ritual approved by Pope Paul V.,
+were not formerly, nor are they now, ever _espoused_: nevertheless,
+in the seventeenth century there were many examples[22] of widows
+blessed a second time in the parish church of St. Hippolytus in Palermo.
+
+We are face to face with a newly-married couple in the midst of people
+who have a good breeding of their own; and we, who measure our words and
+are ashamed to eat our soup with a wooden spoon, must enter their
+cottage and take part in the poor but sincere, joyful and cordial
+festival of the evening. Let us betake ourselves for a short time to
+Trapani, and look in on one of those modest houses during a
+wedding-night.
+
+When the bride and groom return from the church they find at the house
+of the former a drink prepared from the milk of almonds and some small
+cakes. While at table the groom leaves his wife a moment to go to his
+father's house, and returns when the meal is half finished. He remains
+with her until midnight, when he takes her to his mother's, where there
+is a new celebration, similar to the one that has already taken place at
+the bride's mother's. The hour at which the groom goes for the bride is
+so scrupulously observed that any delay would be a grave cause of
+complaint, and perhaps of quarrels. The first day of the celebration is
+called the "festival of the bride" (_fistinu di la zita_), and the
+guests are all selected by the bride's mother. The second day is called
+the "festival of the groom" (_fistinu di lu zitu_), and the guests are
+all the friends of the groom. This ceremonial is, however, not so fine
+as that called "of the bride," _di lu macadaru_. The bride, elegantly
+dressed, is seated beneath a mirror to receive the congratulations of
+her friends. At her right and left are placed seats for relatives and
+friends, arranged according to certain traditional laws which no one
+ever thinks of violating. The right side is reserved for the relatives
+of the groom; and if any one is prevented by ill-health from attending
+the festival, the seat belonging to him is either left vacant, or some
+friend is sent to occupy it, or a pomegranate is placed in it, or it is
+turned upside down. We may note, in passing, that the women alone are
+allowed to be seated in the circle: the men, of every age and rank,
+remain standing. This custom, and especially the position assumed by
+the bride at that time, has given rise to the proverbial expression of
+comparison: _Pari la zita di lu macadaru_, which is said of a woman in
+gala-dress.[23]
+
+Let us now pass to other parts of the island and share the
+nuptial-banquet. Everywhere great quantities of macaroni or of fried
+fish are prepared, and the guests eat and drink to repletion. Even the
+most miserly are liberal on this occasion, and a proverb advises one to
+attend the weddings of the avaricious: _A li nozzi di l'avaru
+trovaticci_. The bride and groom, as can be easily imagined, have their
+heads full of other things than macaroni and fried fish. At Borghetto
+baked beans and pease are served not only to the bridal-party, but also
+to the others, to whom, during the banquet, it is the custom to send a
+dish of _maccarruna di zitu_--a dish in use also in Modica until within
+fifty years. In Assaro there are the accustomed sweetmeats, the cakes of
+honey and flour, and roast pease and almonds. At the banquet, where
+usually these things are not lacking, they begin with macaroni, which in
+Milazzo is poured out on a napkin, with cheese grated over it. Then
+follow sausages or roast meat. At the nuptial-banquet of the peasants of
+Modica a dish is placed on the table intended to receive the gifts of
+the guests for the bride: one gives money, another gold; one a ring,
+another a dollar; nor do those who come last wish to be outdone by the
+first. At the end of the banquet come the toasts, more or less lively
+and witty.
+
+After the banquet follows the ball, which at Favaratta is held eight
+days after the wedding. The orchestra consists of two or three violins,
+which play the whole evening, or afternoon if the marriage took place in
+the daytime. The repertoire is that of the people, and embraces the
+dances known as the _fasola_,[24] the _tarantella_, the _tarascuri_, the
+_'nglisina_, the _capona_, the _chiovu_, etc. In some of the towns in
+the province of Palermo it is the groom who engages the musicians and
+conducts them to the house. In Modica they dance the _ciovu_ (the
+_chiovu_ above mentioned) to the accompaniment not only of violins, but
+also of tambourines, etc. The groom opens the ball, holding his hat in
+his hand and making a profound bow to the bride, who rises with alacrity
+and begins to dance with all her might. The groom makes another bow and
+sits down again, and the bride, dancing alone, makes a turn round the
+room and selects a partner from the guests, who in turn choose a woman,
+and so on in graceful alternation.
+
+In general, in large cities, there is no one who calls out the figures
+at the ball: the musicians play what they please, unless they are asked
+to change or continue a tune that has tired or pleased any one of the
+guests. The dancing is without any rule or order: nevertheless, there is
+some regularity in its execution, especially in the pantomime that
+accompanies it. The bride and groom dance their share: the first one
+with whom the bride dances is the groom, who permits her to dance with
+others.
+
+An interesting subject in the history of the Sicilian people would be
+this ball after the nuptial-banquet if it could be illustrated in all
+the varieties of ancient and modern customs. Buonfiglio, the historian
+of Messina, has left us in his larger work an account of these customs
+two centuries and a half ago. The peasants, he says, have not abandoned
+the ancient custom of dancing in a crowd and in a circle to the sound of
+the lyre and flute, although these have been changed for the songs of
+the musicians; and they dance with the handkerchief, being extremely
+jealous of allowing the hands of their wives to be touched. So also with
+the collection of the presents from the relatives and guests in
+profusion; and this takes place after the groom has offered them
+something to eat three times, on which account the ovens are filled with
+meat, with kettles of rice cooked in milk, the wine constantly going the
+rounds.[25]
+
+In Milazzo the dance "threatens the existence of the bride," to cite an
+historian of the place. Here, as elsewhere, the groom has a patron, a
+gentleman to whom he lends his services, and by whom he is rewarded, not
+always generously. At the ball the bride knows that if the patron or
+other gentleman of the city dance with her, he will leave a silver piece
+in her hand; and if her partner is of her own rank, it will not remain
+empty. So she summons up all the strength of her limbs and spends hours
+and hours in dancing; for dancing with the new bride that evening is an
+occasion for boasting.
+
+However rich the popular songs of Sicily are, they are very poor in
+nuptial-songs. Among the many thousand that have seen the light the
+following, from Cianciana and Casteltermini, is characteristic, because
+peculiar to the evening of the wedding: "Come and sing this evening to
+the bride and groom. Oh what joy! what delight! (You, O wife!) hold the
+seat of power: when the sun appears you rise. There are pleasant sights,
+with dress of gold and all embroidered. This song is sung to the bride
+and groom. Good-day! long life and health!"[26] The following song, from
+Borghetto, is a greeting to the pair on their return from the church:
+"Long live in health the bride and groom! What a beautiful and fortunate
+marriage! Let the mind be firm and the heart constant. And so we come to
+the happy day. I would that my words were as sweet as those of a song,
+and my lute well tuned! A hundred years I would sing new songs. Long
+live love and marriage!" This other song, from Palermo, a variant of one
+already published, is also an expression of good wishes for the pair:
+"Health to this excellent pair! What a fine and gallant wedding! The
+bridegroom seems like a resplendent sun, and the bride like a Greek from
+the Levant. How many obstacles there have been! The stars of heaven go
+before. Now the bride and groom are happy: the diamond is set in gold."
+
+At the ball the singing is done alternately by some of the guests. The
+favorite song in the cities is that of the class called _arie_--in the
+country, _canzoni_. The three songs above cited are those which are
+heard on such occasions.
+
+Song, dance and music alternate, and are prolonged for hours, until the
+guests are tired out and prepare to leave the bride and groom, who are
+already sleepy.
+
+Let the reader accompany the pair to their abode. The door is open, the
+room lighted, the bed prepared: some sighs and laments are heard among
+the bystanders. It is the mother, the married sisters (young girls do
+not accompany to her home the sister who marries), who are grieved at
+seeing their sister leave her home and become another's, uncertain of
+the lot that will be hers in the future. An old custom requires the
+bride to be undressed and put to bed by her mother-in-law. In lack of
+the mother-in-law the right belongs to the oldest sister-in-law. Woe to
+whoever dares to transgress this custom! Grave quarrels would arise, and
+even worse. I have myself been present when a family having wished to do
+as they pleased and not adhere to custom, blows and wounds followed, and
+the bride and groom were obliged to spend the night in jail.
+
+The first visits paid to the newly-married pair are by their mothers,
+who hasten to congratulate them. These are followed later by friends,
+who go to make the _bon lirata_.
+
+The bride remains at home a week to receive the visits of relatives,
+friends and acquaintances who either did or did not share in the
+wedding-festivities. After this time she leaves the house solemnly for
+the first time to go and hear mass, high mass being ordinarily
+preferred. The white dress which in some localities constitutes the
+wedding-dress, in others is the one worn on the first occasion of
+leaving the house and in returning the visits of the guests.
+
+The last act of this drama or comedy of life is a journey on which the
+husband must take his wife within a year after their marriage. In the
+marriage-contract, written or verbal, there is a clause by which the
+husband assumes the obligation of taking his wife within the year to
+such and such a festival of some town more or less remote--the farther
+away the more important to the contracting parties and their relatives.
+Where no contract is made the custom is enough, the "word"--which, as
+the proverb says, "is more than the contract"--is sufficient. In Piana
+dei Greci, an Albanian colony of Sicily, the husband obliges himself to
+take his wife a journey in honor of St. Rosalia on the 4th of September
+to the sanctuary of Monte Pellegrino in Palermo. In many of the villages
+of the _Conca d'oro_ ("the golden shell," the plain of Palermo) the
+husband binds himself to take his wife to the _festino_ of St. Rosalia
+in Palermo, the 13th-15th of July; and this is an obligation that
+involves much expense, because the statue of Charles V. in the Piazza
+Bologni (Palermo) says, according to the people, "Palermu un saccu
+tantu!"[27] The husband of Noto was accustomed, and perhaps still is, to
+take his wife to the festival of St. Venera in Avola.
+
+The wife of Monte Erice (province of Trapani) by a very old custom
+should be taken, the first time she leaves the house, on an excursion
+out of Erice--the longer the better for the reputation of her husband.
+The one who is worth anything will take her to the sanctuary of St. Vito
+lo Capo or to the festival of the Madonna of Trapani in the middle of
+August: the worthless husband will take her a short distance from Erice,
+as, for example, to the church of the Capuchins or to the neighborhood
+delle Ficari. Here are four proverbs which refer to these
+marriage-journeys: "The beautiful bride the first time goes to the
+Annunciation;" "Who has a fine husband goes the first time to St. Vito;"
+"Who has a mean husband goes the first time to the Capuchins;" "Who has
+a worthless husband goes the first time to the Ficari."
+
+Not every season is propitious for weddings. From ancient times the
+months of May and August have been deemed unlucky, and no one would
+marry during these months, mindful of the proverb, "The bride of May
+will not enjoy her marriage;" and the other, "The bride of August, the
+torrent will carry her away." Instead of these months, February, the
+Carnival, April, June and September are preferred. This last month is
+recommended in another proverb: "In September tender marriages are
+made." Likewise two days of the week are avoided for weddings--Tuesday,
+and especially Friday--it being a common saying that on Friday and
+Tuesday one should not marry or set out on a journey. Friday is a fatal
+day, on which one would believe he ran a certain danger not only in
+marrying, but also in beginning any work. On the other hand, Sunday is a
+lucky day, on which marriages always turn out according to the wishes of
+the parties.
+
+These are not all the superstitious beliefs relating to marriage, which
+extend so far as to ordain that if, for example, the bride or one of the
+company slips, or the ring falls in the house, or one of the candles on
+the altar takes fire or goes out, something unlucky is to be expected,
+as these are bad omens; that if two sisters are married the same
+evening, the younger must suffer; finally, that marriages between
+relatives always turn out badly.
+
+In addition, it must not be believed that a marriage can be made, or is
+made, with any one without due regard being had to the relations and
+spirit of the family of the bride or groom. The intimate, unwritten
+history of Sicily and the Sicilians is full of facts that show how
+between natives of this town and that, of this ward and that, and
+between the partisans of different factions, marriages cannot, and ought
+not, and will not, be made. Municipal and country contentions kept many
+parts of Sicily in such enmity that they quarrelled even about the thing
+most sacred to Sicilians--religion. It was not enough that hatred grew
+up between the natives of two different but neighboring localities: it
+was often born and perpetuated "between those whom one wall and one
+fosse shut in," and assumed considerable proportions. Thus we see as
+far back as the fifteenth century the inhabitants of a certain "fifth"
+(Palermo was divided into five wards) so hostile to those of another
+ward that the intervention of the senate was necessary in order to
+obtain from King Alfonso (in 1448) supplementary laws to obviate the
+evil.[28] In like manner the members of different confraternities are
+often unfriendly. In Modica it is a rare thing for a man devoted to St.
+George to marry a woman devoted to St. Peter. An excellent young lady of
+Syracuse, devoted to St. Philip and engaged to a distinguished young man
+of the same city who was a member of the confraternity of the Holy
+Ghost, a few days before the wedding broke her engagement because on
+visiting her betrothed, who was ill, she found hanging above his head a
+picture of the Holy Ghost, which she tore down and broke to pieces in
+anger and scorn.
+
+Men engaged on the sea do not marry into families employed on the land.
+The sailors consider themselves, and are, better and milder than other
+classes, as is shown by the criminal cases[29] and the words and phrases
+which they use (especially those of the _Kalsa_ of Palermo). Then there
+are the social differences, which are an obstacle to many marriages. We
+do not speak of the large cities, where certain prejudices are more or
+less overlooked; but in the smaller and less populous towns there are
+distinctions and sub-distinctions, so that he is fortunate who does not
+lose himself in that labyrinth. The gentleman (_galantuomo_, who is also
+called _cappeddu_ or _cavaleri_) forms the highest caste, and is above
+the master (_maestro_), who in turn must not be confounded with the
+countryman (_villano_), the lowest grade in the social scale. Among the
+countrymen of Modica a shepherd who lives on his own property is above a
+reduced _massarotto_ (who is a countryman proprietor of lands), and yet
+the _massarotto_ would refuse him for a son-in-law: the mechanic would
+not be accepted by a family of drivers, nor these by another the head of
+which is the keeper of swine or of cattle. The husbandman who can prune
+the vines is above the one who can only till the ground; the cowherd
+looks down on the one who guards the oxen; the last named scorns the
+keeper of calves; the one who keeps sheep deems himself noble in
+comparison with the one who guards goats; and so with other most minute
+distinctions. When a countryman woos a young girl of a different rank,
+he hopes to overcome the difficulties in his way by choosing a
+matchmaker from among the foremost men of his native place, but the
+matchmaker will inevitably receive the answer, "The young man is honest,
+laborious, he owns a vineyard and land, he possesses all the qualities,
+but--he is not of my rank."
+
+GIUSEPPE PITRE.
+
+
+
+
+AUNT EDITH'S FOREIGN LOVER.
+
+
+"There is a destiny which shapes our end;" and I am a firm believer in
+it, for how else can I explain my adventures and their results while
+travelling in Austria in the year of the Welt-Ausstellung at Vienna?
+
+As is usual with a novice in European travel, I received during the week
+prior to sailing the ordinary amount of advice as to what I _should_ and
+should _not_ do. Meantime, my aunt Edith, who had spent a year in Europe
+ten or twelve years before, rather surprised me by her reticence in
+regard to my proposed voyage. However, the night before I was to sail I
+suggested to her that she might be able to give me some valuable advice,
+as she had probably not "forgotten how one should behave in Paris."
+
+"Forgotten!" she exclaimed with a start, and then, raven-like, "nothing
+more." I played with the tassel of the window-curtain and wondered how I
+should ever get on without this aunt, the dearest, bravest and
+handsomest woman in all the world--to me. She was thirty-six years old,
+just ten years older than myself, for by a happy coincidence our
+birthdays fell in the same month, and upon the same day of the month,
+the twenty-fifth of August.
+
+Aunt Edith was a great comfort to the maiden sisterhood. Spinsters
+referred to Edith Mack with a sense of triumph whenever any
+disrespectful allusions were cast upon "old maids." She was always
+bright, charming and witty, and people wondered, like so many idiots,
+why she had never married, instead of wondering why most other women
+did. When questioned about it, which was rarely, she usually replied
+that she never "had the time," or that she had been "warned in dreams,"
+or that she awaited her "king from over the seas"--some such _betise_.
+But to me the fact that she had never married was never a matter for
+wonder: she had never loved, I supposed, which was reason enough. She
+had her work in life--had written two very delightful books, made
+occasional illustrations for publishers, and played German music _a
+ravir_. At length she spoke, this Aunt Edith.
+
+"Yes, my dear niece, I _have_ some advice to give you," she said in a
+low voice: "don't fall in love with a European."
+
+"Do you think there is any danger?" I asked with mock seriousness.
+
+"Not with a Frenchman or German," she quickly replied. "But let me tell
+you _my_ experience. I was not far from your age when I went to Europe
+with Cousin Helen. I had just refused an offer of marriage from a very
+noble fellow because I could not love him. He lacked the power to
+control me: I felt myself the stronger of the two. Not that women like
+to be ruled, but that they like that power in men which can rule if need
+be, generously, but never despotically. I had only in my imagination a
+conception of that love 'which passeth understanding'--which lifts a
+woman out of herself into a willing sacrifice that looks to calmer eyes
+as the height of folly. I liked men well, but none had ever stirred more
+than the even surface of my feelings, and I so firmly believed that no
+one ever could as to regard my 'falling in love' as most improbable. I
+really desired the experience, feeling that something is lost out of
+life if every phase of human feeling and emotion be not awakened. But I
+went to Europe, and walked straight into my fate.
+
+"The day after my arrival in Paris, in passing through the court of the
+hotel where I was stopping, I encountered a gentleman who lifted his
+hat, and who looked at me in a manner that caused me to observe his
+eyes, which were large, black and exceptionally splendid. In figure he
+was tall and firmly built, an aquiline nose and clearly-cut chin giving
+a high-bred look to his face, and he wore some sort of a decoration
+which caught Helen's notice. At the table-d'hote that evening I found
+myself seated next to him. Our table-talk, begun early in the meal, was
+the beginning of an acquaintance that developed into that strongest of
+affections which makes slaves of us all. I never forgot my proud
+birthright, and well understood the danger of a European alliance--or
+misalliance. The gentleman was quite Oriental, belonging to that country
+which has Bucharest for its capital. His family was of high distinction,
+connected with that of the reigning prince. He possessed a modest
+fortune, had been educated in Athens and Paris, and spoke four or five
+languages. He was ardent, jealous, passionate, but possessed a heart at
+once so loving, so full of every tender and winning quality, that it was
+easy to forgive outbursts of feeling and similar offences. He had spent
+some time in England, without, however, learning to speak much of the
+language. The history of his past life, as he related it to us, was
+quite in keeping with his character as a man. He had been affianced when
+quite young to a beautiful girl, quarrelled with her, broke off the
+engagement, then joined the Greek army, fought against the Turks, and
+was four times wounded.
+
+"It was early in June when we arrived in Paris, and at the occurrence of
+my birthday in August we had become very well acquainted, as also with a
+number of his friends to whom he had introduced us. Wishing to observe
+my _fete_, he sent me a tiny bouquet--a rose and some sprays of fragrant
+flowers. In the evening he begged for some souvenir of the day, when I
+declared I had nothing to give.
+
+"'Then I shall _take_ something,' he replied, and clipped from a curl a
+ring of my hair, which he placed in a locket attached to his watchguard,
+in the back of which he previously made a note of the day.
+
+"'That will remain there for ever,' he remarked.
+
+"'Which means six months, at the end of which time you will have
+forgotten me,' I replied.
+
+"'Not at the end of six months, six years, nor six ages,' he warmly
+retorted.
+
+"As the autumn months wore away, and he began to talk to me of marriage,
+the seriousness of his love frightened me, and it was not until I was
+assured by what seemed unmistakable proofs that all his statements in
+regard to himself were true that I in any sense considered the question
+of marriage with him. To be obliged always to talk French or Italian was
+not to my liking, and to marry anybody but a compatriot seemed very
+unpatriotic. But I loved him, and that was the solution of the whole
+matter. His kindness to us was without limit, and tendered in the most
+graceful and grateful manner. He knew some excellent English families
+who were living in Paris, whose acquaintance we afterward made, and who
+spoke of him in the highest terms of esteem.
+
+"As the winter set in, Helen and I arranged to go to Italy. My friend
+was to take advantage of our departure to go to his 'provincial estates'
+on business, and afterward to join us in Italy. He gave us a letter to
+the Greek consul at Rome, a friend of his, to whose care he would
+confide his letters, and who, he thought, might be of real service to
+us notwithstanding our own ambassadorial corps there.
+
+"My separation from him proved to me in a thousandfold manner how deep
+and strong was the bond that bound me to him. We had scarcely more than
+become well settled in Rome than a letter arrived which he had mailed at
+Vienna, and which the polite consul came and delivered in person. And
+what a letter it was!--only a page or two, but words alive with the love
+and passion of his heart. And that was the last letter, as it was the
+first, that I ever received from him. The cause of his silence none of
+us could tell. He knew that a letter sent to me in care of any one of
+the American consuls in Paris or in Italy would reach me. As the mystery
+of his silence deepened the attentions of the consul became more
+assiduous. For some reason I did not like the man, although he was very
+kind and gentlemanly. Once he lightly remarked that doubtless 'our
+friend had been _epris_ by some fair Austrian blond;' and the suggestion
+filled me with shame. Who knew but it might be true--that the man fell
+in love with every pretty new face--for mine was called beautiful
+then--and that after an entertaining season of flirtation he had bid me
+adieu? Of course I blamed myself for having been so confiding as to be
+deceived by a handsome adventurer without principle or honor. I cannot
+tell you what agony I suffered. I begged Helen to go on to Naples, for
+Rome had become very hateful to me. But at Rome, as you know, Helen fell
+ill with Roman fever, and died, and I returned to Rome to bury her body
+there in the Protestant cemetery. Four months had gone by, and not a
+word from my friend. Alone as I was, my troubles drove me nearly
+frantic. I returned to Paris. That I was so sad and changed seemed
+naturally due to Helen's death: nobody suspected that I was the victim
+of a keener sorrow. None of his friends had received news of him. I was
+too proud to show that my interest in him had been of more than ordinary
+meaning. Nobody knew of my love for him but Helen, and the secret was
+buried in her grave.
+
+"I tarried a month or two in Paris, hoping against hope for news of him,
+without even the consolation of addressing him letters, as I did not
+know where one would reach him. To know he was dead would have been a
+relief: to think he had abandoned me, that he had been false, was
+insupportable. It was the most probable solution of the mystery, but I
+have never believed it, and I love him as deeply to-day as ever. I have
+schooled myself to cheerfulness and gayety, but having known him spoiled
+me for loving again. Here is his portrait," drawing a case from a
+drawer: "I wish you to see how handsome and good and noble a man may
+look to be, and yet--"
+
+She paused, and I added, "Be a villain."
+
+"So you see," she smiled, "how apropos my advice to you is: have nothing
+to do with foreigners."
+
+I returned her the portrait without comment, kissed her good-night, and
+next day sailed out to sea, with Aunt Edith waving her handkerchief
+after me like a flag of warning. We lived in the country, six hours'
+ride from New York, and my oldest brother and Aunt Edith had followed me
+to the "water's edge," as she playfully expressed it. At London I was to
+join Cecilia Dayton, a handsome widow of forty-five, an old friend of
+ours, who was to act the part of "chaperone." We called her "St.
+Cecilia," although she was anything but saintly.
+
+Late in the following winter we left Paris and went to Nice, where "the
+romance of a serviette" began; and I trust the reader will not question
+my truthfulness when I observe that what I am writing is, without
+exaggeration, strictly true.
+
+St. Cecilia, from nervousness brought on by drinking strong tea (as I
+firmly believe), kept a small night-lamp burning in her room at night,
+so she should not be afraid to sleep. For this purpose she used tiny
+tapers, which float on the top of oil poured in a tumbler half full of
+water. We breakfasted in our own rooms, and the breakfast napkins of the
+Grand Hotel, where we were stopping, were decidedly shabby and only
+about six inches square. On the morning of our leavetaking of Nice, St.
+Cecilia wanted a "rag" to tie over her bottle of oil, which she carried
+with her for her night-tapers, and cast her eyes about for one: she
+seized upon the raggedest of the serviettes.
+
+"I don't consider this _stealing_, ma chere," she murmured in apology.
+"My bill is enormous! I feel that I've paid for this rag twice over."
+
+So the serviette went with us by sea to Naples. There we were obliged
+for a time to occupy the same apartment, and the napkin taken off the
+bottle was lying about the room, for it was warm and there was no fire
+to throw it in. Tucking it away with soiled linen, it came back from the
+laundry clean and white, save one round oil-spot on it, and was thrown
+into my trunk along with the refreshed linen; and there it remained
+untouched until four months later, when I arrived at Vienna.
+
+At Venice, Cecilia was obliged to return to Paris: she was to rejoin me
+a fortnight later at Vienna. Meantime, a young Englishwoman, Kate
+Barton, whose acquaintance we had made at Rome, was going to Vienna to
+join a party of cousins; and as we were both alone, we arranged to make
+the journey together. Kate was one of the merriest of English girls (a
+native, however, of Cape Town), a tall, rosy-cheeked blond, with a half
+dozen brothers distributed in the British army and provincial
+parliaments.
+
+We left Venice at midnight in an Adriatic steamer, and arrived next
+morning at Trieste, a town which during our forced stay in it of
+forty-eight hours filled my mind with nothing but most disagreeable
+souvenirs. Life there was in complete contrast to the quiet, poetic,
+graceful existence at Venice, and the change from the one to the other
+had been so sudden as to act like a stunning blow. A detention caused by
+illness and the loss of a train through the purposed maliciousness of a
+hotel-waiter led to two results. One was our sending a telegram to the
+proprietor of the W----Hotel in Vienna to inform him of the delay, as
+rooms had been engaged for us by a gentleman who was in the habit of
+lodging in that hotel when in Vienna, and who before leaving the city
+had shown the kind thoughtfulness of sending us a letter of introduction
+to the proprietor commending us to his courtesy. The other result was to
+bring about an acquaintance with a Prussian, Herr Schwager, which
+happened in this wise: Kate, whose wrath was fully aroused at the
+troubles we encountered in Trieste, was extravagant in her denunciations
+of those "horrid Germans" after we were once fairly seated in the cars
+bound for Gratz. Neither of us spoke German with any degree of ease or
+much intelligibility, and consequently gave vent to our opinions in
+plain English. A young man of a studious, gentlemanly appearance, but of
+unmistakable Teutonic descent, sat in one corner of the compartment, and
+from his frequent smiling at our talk I concluded that he understood
+English, and made bold to ask him if he did.
+
+"Happily, I do," he replied, his handsome brown eyes twinkling with
+increased merriment, "and I am one of those 'horrid Germans.'"
+
+His reply greatly amused Miss Barton, and opened the way to a very
+animated conversation, in which we learned that he had just come from
+Italy, had been on the same steamer as ourselves coming from Venice, and
+had stopped in the same hotel and suffered the same agonies. Then we
+talked of what we liked best in Italy, and he spoke of an American
+friend, Mr. Fanton, with whom he had greatly enjoyed Rome. The fact that
+he was a friend of John Fanton, whom I had known for years, and who was
+the last to bid me good-bye in Rome, was recommendation enough for any
+stranger, and constituted us friends at once. I forgot all about Aunt
+Edith's advice to have "nothing to do with foreigners," but placed at
+once the most unlimited confidence in Herr Schwager, who from the
+beginning of our acquaintance attached himself in a most brotherly way
+to our fortunes, proving himself in every particular a rare honor to his
+sex. However gross and brusque the German character may be, I must for
+ever make an exception of our Herr, whose genuine politeness, delicacy
+of kindness, refinement and manliness I have rarely seen equalled and
+never excelled.
+
+Kate kept up her banter about the "horrid Germans," for which she had
+abundant reason in our journey from Gratz to Vienna. We had hoped to
+have a compartment to ourselves, to which end Herr Schwager had expended
+a florin; but at the last moment a portly Gratzian entered and settled
+himself by one of the windows which would command the Semmering Pass. He
+too spoke some English, and endeavored to be sociable. As we neared the
+pass he insisted upon my taking his seat the better to see the
+marvellous scenery, with which he was already familiar. I had been too
+long on the Continent not to have become suspicious of a voluntary
+sacrifice on the part of a European. It invariably means something: it
+covers an _arriere pensee_. He offers you a paper to read or a peach or
+a pear to eat, or buys a bouquet of flowers at a station, and if you
+accept the proffer of either he takes advantage of the obligation under
+which he has placed you and proceeds generally to smoke, remarking for
+form's sake that he "hopes it is not offensive," while you, under the
+burden of his kindness, smile a fashionable lie, and reply, "Not in the
+least." So our Gratzer withdrew to the farther end of the seat and began
+to smoke a most villainous cigar, and continued to smoke, lighting
+another when one was finished. I soon began to succumb to the poisonous
+effects of the close atmosphere, for, although we kept our windows
+open--it was the middle of June--the Gratzer with true German caution
+kept his firmly closed. But the effect upon Kate was even worse, and her
+pallid face plainly told how much she was suffering. We cast entreating
+looks upon Herr Schwager, who never smoked, but understood our annoyance
+without knowing just how to ask the Gratzer to cease. We poked our heads
+out of the window, opened cologne-bottles and indulged in various
+manifestations of disgust; but to no purpose: the Austrian smoked on.
+Finally, when he began on the fourth cigar, Kate, whose patience was
+utterly exhausted, begged me to ask him to stop. I naturally demurred,
+being under obligation to him, and replied, "You're the sicker, Kate:
+_you_ tell him."
+
+When suddenly she lifted her pale face and shouted at him, "Oh, you
+_horrid_ German! we are nearly smoked to death! For mercy's sake, stop!"
+
+"Ah, pardon!" he replied unconcernedly, taking the cigar from his mouth
+and putting it in his pocket.
+
+Herr Schwager's amusement was boundless, and our satisfaction also, as
+we had no more smoke on the road to Vienna.
+
+The landlord of the Hotel W----, to whom we were recommended, received
+us with a pleasant cordiality, and at the same time apologized because
+he could not give us the rooms engaged for us until the next day; so we
+were temporarily lodged in a large room leading from an anteroom
+designed for a servant--an arrangement which is common in Austrian
+hotels. On the following morning, as Kate was waiting half dressed in
+the anteroom for the kammer-maedchen to bring her warm water, who should
+walk in upon her, _sans ceremonie_, but a long, black-gowned priest! He
+stared at her, nonchalantly looked about the room, and walked out with
+never a word. She might have regarded the intrusion as a mistake if a
+like visit from the same personage had not been made at the same hour
+next morning in our own rooms, to which we were that day transferred.
+The two successive intrusions were to us inexplicable, unless, in the
+light of succeeding events, we were to regard the priest as a detective
+officer or spy. Our apartments communicated, both being reached through
+an entry, while my room, lying beyond Kate's, was only reached by
+passing also from the entry through hers.
+
+On the fourth day of our sojourn in the hotel, about nine o'clock in the
+morning, Kate tapped on the door leading into my room, and at my cry of
+"Entrez," came in. She was in a dressing-gown, her long, curling brown
+hair hanging over her shoulders and a very unusual expression on her
+face.
+
+"More priests?" I asked in explanation.
+
+"_Police!_" she exclaimed. "If we ever get out of this town alive I
+shall be thankful! I had rung as usual for water, and just as I had
+finished my bath I heard a knock at the outside door, and asking 'Wer
+ist da?' the chambermaid replied that _she_ was. I then opened the door
+a bit, and saw looking over her shoulders two strange men. My first
+thought was that they were friends of yours wishing to give you a
+surprise, and I cried out, 'Oh, you can't come in, for we are not
+dressed.' Then one of the men said in broken English, 'We shall and we
+_will_ come in;' and they forced the door in upon me, while I hastened
+to close and fasten the other, but was too late, for they followed at my
+heels. 'You are Miss W----?' the one who had already spoken said.--'No,
+I am not.'--'Then she is in the next room?'--'But you cannot go in, for
+she isn't dressed,' I said.--'You are her sister, and you come from the
+Grand Hotel,' he continued; and you've no idea with what a ferocious
+face. It was dreadful! Then he said something about the _police_--that
+we must go to the _police-court_; and finally said he would give you
+five minutes to dress in. Now, there they are, banging at the door. Oh,
+what have we done? Why _did_ we ever come into this barbarous land?" and
+poor merry Kate was on the brink of hysterics.
+
+"Oh, 'tis all a mistake," I replied, adjusting my necktie. "I will see
+the men, and the matter will be explained at once."
+
+The noise from the street coming in from my open windows had prevented
+me from hearing the conversation in Kate's room, and I should have been
+inclined to regard her startling narrative as one of her jokes if it had
+not been for the loud banging on the door. I hastened to open it: the
+men came in, and, wishing to relieve Kate of their presence, I asked
+them to pass into my room. This they refused to do, taking a decided
+stand in Kate's. I was too curious to lose my presence of mind or show
+that I was annoyed, and with my blandest smile inquired why I was
+honored with so matinal a visit from two strangers, when the following
+dialogue ensued:
+
+"We come from the police. You are Miss W----?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Englishwoman?"
+
+"By no means."
+
+"Yes you are; and this woman is your sister."
+
+"No, she is not my sister."
+
+"Yes, she is. You're English. No? What are you, then?"
+
+"I'm American."
+
+"Show your passport."
+
+"Here it is;" and I opened the document bearing the American eagle and
+the signature of Hamilton Fish.
+
+The two men put their heads together, neither being able to tell what
+sort of a paper it was, which secretly amused me. The men were in
+civilian's dress. Turning to Kate, her passport was demanded. She had
+none.
+
+"And of what nation are you?" asked the spokesman.
+
+She refused to tell.
+
+"And what is your name?"
+
+She refused to answer that. The poor girl had become so nervous under
+the ordeal, which for her had been of a very violent character, that she
+imagined nothing could be more disgraceful and humiliating than to have
+her name mixed up with a police-affair.
+
+Finding that she was inexorable, they returned to me with, "Well, miss,
+you must go with us to the police," and showed me a paper of arrest.
+
+"And why must I go to the police?"
+
+"Because you have been at the Grand Hotel."
+
+"What Grand Hotel?"
+
+"The Grand Hotel. You must go to the police."
+
+I rang the bell, and asked that the proprietor of the house come at once
+to my room. He came, and I demanded an explanation of the mystery.
+
+"You must know, mademoiselle," he began, "that in Vienna we are all in
+the power of the police: they must have the name, nationality, business
+and address of every person who comes into the city. The morning after
+your arrival these men came and asked if two English ladies were
+stopping here. I said 'Yes.' They then said they believed you were
+persons they had been trying for two weeks to catch, and that you were
+very suspicious characters who had been stopping here in the Grand
+Hotel. I told them it was not possible--that you had come direct from
+Italy; and I mentioned the telegram you had sent from Trieste, and that
+you had been recommended to my courtesy by a gentleman whom I well knew
+and who had many times lodged here. But they went away, and came back
+again next day, making some inquiries about you, and asking if numbers
+so and so were those of your rooms. You were out, and whether they
+visited your rooms or not I cannot say. This is all that I know. Now
+they are here again, and if they say you must go to the police-court,
+there will be no other way but to go."
+
+"But I don't understand. I have my passport: there is my bill, receipted
+at the hotel in Trieste six days ago. I never knew before it was a crime
+for two English-speaking women to travel alone or to stop at a Grand
+Hotel. Of what are we suspected? and upon what grounds suspected?"
+
+"Why, a napkin has been seen among your effects with the mark of the
+Grand Hotel upon it."
+
+After a moment's thought it flashed into my mind that it was that Nice
+serviette, and, more amused than annoyed, I exclaimed, "Oh, I have it.
+'Tis that serviette St. Cecilia took at Nice;" and opening my trunk soon
+had it in my hands, holding it up by two corners for the men to see and
+explaining how it came into my possession.
+
+"It will go very hard with Madame Cecilia," observed the spokesman: "you
+will please give us her address."
+
+My indiscretion at once became apparent, but I was a complete novice in
+"being arrested." To involve Cecilia in the affair would be but an
+aggravation of matters, and I at once decided, come what might, I would
+not give the police her address. Looking at the half-obliterated stamp
+in the corner of the napkin, there was unmistakably the mark "Grand
+Hotel," but directly underneath "Nice," which the police, in their ardor
+to find me guilty of something which I could not find out, had
+undoubtedly mistaken for Wien, the German name for Vienna. I called
+their attention to the "Nice," asking what jurisdiction the Austrian
+government had over matters relating to hotels in Italy. They replied by
+looking very closely at the stamp, and then one of them took my passport
+and the napkin and went out, leaving the other man to guard our
+apartment, and soon returned with a new arrest for myself and my
+_gesellschafterin_, Miss Barton still refusing to give her name. The
+landlord had only placed mine in the visitors' book, thereby making
+himself liable to a fine of eight or ten dollars.
+
+Nothing could have been more widely different than the effect produced
+upon Kate and myself. To me the whole affair was inexpressibly
+mysterious and ludicrous, notwithstanding the insolence of the police,
+and, as it seemed to me, their amazing stupidity. Poor Kate was the
+wrathfullest woman I ever saw, while her obstinate refusal to answer any
+questions about herself only increased the ferocity of the men, whose
+treatment of her was shameful in the extreme. They threatened to search
+our trunks, which aroused Kate's wrath the more. I observed that as they
+had assumed the right to unlock and search mine during my absence, they
+were probably already acquainted with its contents. They, however,
+abandoned the searching scheme, and ordered us to get ready to go to the
+police-court, which was about two minutes' walk distant. Kate declared
+that to the police-court she would not go, unless she were dragged there
+by her hair, while the men declared that she would then be taken by
+_armed force_. I concluded to telegraph to the American embassy for
+help, but that was denied me. Herr Schwager had called to see us only
+the day previous, saying his lodgings were quite in our neighborhood,
+but we had not asked his address. There seemed nothing to do but to go
+to the court and be my own lawyer. It never occurred to me that the
+landlord to whose courtesy I had been recommended would refuse to go
+with me; but when I asked him for his protection he begged to be
+excused, on the ground of being _very_ busy and that he could be of no
+service to me. I do not wish any reader to infer from this that he was
+an exceptional Viennese hotel-keeper--that is, exceptionally
+ungentlemanly: he was, on the contrary, a fair representative both of
+his trade and his countrymen. Austrian military officers and diplomatic
+attaches of the government have won in fashionable society a reputation
+for extreme politeness and gallantry toward women; which may be true, as
+neither under such conditions costs any earnest sacrifice. But the rank
+and file of the middle class of Austrians, the class with which
+travellers have naturally most to do, are most brusque and ungracious in
+manner as well as in deed, unembellished with any hint of courtesy.
+
+I enjoyed a fling at the landlord by expressing surprise at his refusal
+to accompany me to the police-court, adding maliciously that American
+gentlemen were not famous for polished manners, but there was not one
+mean enough in the whole country to refuse his protection to a lady, a
+guest under his own roof and in a strange land, where the help of
+friends was denied her. I then appealed to Kate to go with me, as it
+would only end the trouble sooner, and that I would never allow her to
+go to such a place alone, but with tears streaming from her eyes she
+resisted my entreaties, and I followed one of the men to the court: the
+other remained behind to watch Kate.
+
+I had no more idea of a police-court than I had of the reason why I was
+being taken there. It was mystery and curiosity that sustained me. I
+undoubtedly looked like an amused interrogation-mark, for the moment I
+was introduced into the presence of the grand interrogator of that
+inquisition, upon whose desk lay my passport and "that serviette," he
+smiled and remarked in French, "It is very evident, mademoiselle, that
+you have nothing to do with this affair."
+
+"With what affair, monsieur? I haven't the faintest idea what I was
+brought here for," I responded.
+
+"Why, just this: about a fortnight ago two Englishwomen stopped at the
+Grand Hotel in this city, and left without paying their bills, carrying
+off with them all the household linen they could lay their hands on."
+
+And so we had been arrested as house-linen thieves! It was too
+humiliating. I was then interviewed as to my companion's refusal to give
+her name, etc., which argued very much against her. I explained as well
+as I could the extreme annoyance and brutal treatment to which she had
+been subjected, her horror of having anything to do with a police-court,
+and how the disgrace of being suspected of a crime was aggravated by
+intense nervous excitement brought on by the insolence of the police.
+After considerable pleading on my part in her behalf--for I felt that I
+was the sole cause of the trouble--it was agreed upon that she should be
+relieved from coming to the court upon condition that she would sign a
+paper giving her name, nationality, etc., and I was dismissed without
+the slightest apology for the trouble to which I had been subjected. At
+that point the affair ceased to be funny, and, turning back after I had
+reached the door of exit, I made a short and as effective a speech as
+the polite language of the French would allow, in which I conveyed a
+frank idea of my opinion of Austrian courtesy. I succeeded well enough
+to convince my examiner of something--probably that he had caught a
+Tartar--and I left him tugging furiously at his moustache. My official
+escort led the way back to the hotel with a very crestfallen air, savage
+and sullen.
+
+I found Miss Barton in a worse condition than ever, the persecutions of
+the guarding policeman having continued with increased ferocity. He had
+dogged every movement she made, until the poor girl had nearly gone mad;
+and it was only after long persuasion that I induced her to sign the
+paper, such a one as most travellers without passports in Austria are
+obliged to fill out. She finally wrote her name in a great scrawl which
+nobody could decipher, and gave as her country "Cape Town, Africa;"
+which again confounded the men, as they had no idea how a "Hottentot"
+could be an English subject. But they swallowed their ignorance, and
+finally went away.
+
+When Kate had become restored to her normal condition she heaped upon
+herself all sorts of self-reproaches, and paid me extravagant
+compliments for what she called "good sense" and "presence of mind." As
+she demanded redress for the insults she had suffered, and as I wished
+to know by what right an Austrian policeman privily searched the trunks
+of American women who had the misfortune to come into the Austrian
+dominions, we posted off to our respective national ambassadors. Kate
+had the satisfaction of being told that she ought to congratulate
+herself upon getting off as well as she did, since two of her
+countrywomen had been arrested, put in jail and kept there for two weeks
+upon even less grounds for suspicion. The result of our complaints was,
+that the amplest official apologies were made by the Foreign Office, the
+two policemen severely censured and degraded from rank, while, through
+the influence of Herr Schwager, who went to the president of the police,
+an officer was sent from that organization to apologize to us in person.
+But what I cared most for I never got--an acknowledgment of the right of
+the police to search baggage _a plaisir_.
+
+As might have been expected, our liking for Vienna had been thoroughly
+damped. From that moment Kate never saw an officer without fear and
+trembling, and officers were everywhere. "To think," she exclaimed,
+"that I have grown to be such a ninny! My brothers always said, 'Oh, we
+can trust Kate to go anywhere: she never gets nervous or afraid;' and
+here I am actually afraid to cross a street! I shall never have a
+moment's peace until I get out of this horrid country."
+
+At the end of a fortnight, having entirely missed her cousins, she
+joined a party of Americans going to England. St. Cecilia meantime had
+arrived, and was of course entertained by the napkin adventure. But she
+could not abide Vienna, and quickly returned to Paris. As I wished to
+"do" the Exposition and run no more risks of arrest, I decided to
+withdraw to Baden, a half hour's ride by express from the Suedbahn
+station of the Austrian capital, as the town was strongly recommended by
+Herr Schwager and several American friends residing in Vienna. Herr
+Schwager declared that with my small stock of _Deutsch sprechen_ the
+Badenites would cheat me out of my eyes, and very kindly volunteered to
+help me get installed. A history of the trials attending that
+transaction would alone "fill a volume," but I mention only one, and
+that simply because it seemed another link in the manifest chain of
+destiny.
+
+An hour after our arrangement for my accommodation for the season had
+been settled "meine Wirthin" received a letter from her son-in-law that
+he was coming, and she informed me that she would need her guest-chamber
+for him, returning to me my advanced guldens at the same time she broke
+her bargain. Nothing was to be done but to look elsewhere, and
+eventually lodgings were obtained in the Bergstrasse, in quite another
+part of the town. The locality was excellent, being very near the
+promenade and music-gardens: then I liked the face of the
+_Haus-meisterin,_ as did Herr Schwager, who wisely remarked that he
+thought kindness of heart should rank high in that "benighted land."
+
+I frequently went to Vienna, spending the day at the Exposition and
+returning to Baden in the evening. Upon one of these occasions I found
+upon my return to the Suedbahn that I had a half hour to wait for the
+train. As I was hungry, I ordered a cup of coffee in the cafe
+waiting-room. Upon putting my hand in my pocket for my portemonnaie, lo!
+I had none, not a kreutzer to my name, and my portemonnaie contained
+also my return railway-ticket! I was alone: it was seven o'clock in the
+evening. My situation was dramatic, even comic, and I laughed to myself
+and smiled upon a gentleman and two ladies who sat at the same table,
+calmly remarking that I had been robbed of my _Gelttasche_: they smiled
+in return, and nothing more. I sent a _kellner_ to bring me the master
+of the cafe, whom I informed of my loss and my inability to pay my debt
+to him. He at once led me off to a _commissaire de police_--of whom
+there are always plenty about in civilian's dress--to whom I made a
+statement of my loss, describing my lost treasure and where I thought it
+had in all probability been taken. While we were talking a very
+distinguished-looking man, perhaps forty-five years of age, with
+magnificent black eyes, passed near, evidently interested. When through
+with the police I remarked that I did not know how I was to get back to
+Baden; whereupon the master of the cafe--who, by the way, spoke English
+well--exclaimed, "Oh, as to that, I will lend you what you need."
+Hearing this, the distinguished-looking stranger came up with a salaam,
+and, begging the conventional number of _pardons_, graciously
+volunteered any service he might be able to render me. I thanked him,
+explaining to him in a few words my misfortune, but that the master of
+the cafe--who had meantime purchased a railway-ticket for me--had
+gallantly come to my rescue. At this moment the car-bell rang: I gave my
+card to the _Meister_, took down his name, and hurried away to get a
+seat in the train, the owner of the black eyes following me, helping me
+as best he could, and, "if madame had no objections, would take a seat
+near her, as he too was _en route_ for Baden." He spoke in French, with
+a pure French accent, although it was evident he was not a Frenchman. He
+evinced a desire to continue an acquaintance so oddly begun, but I was
+obliged to doom him to disappointment. My mind was occupied with the
+grave question of finance, and about how long I should be obliged to
+remain in Baden before I should receive a remittance from London. I
+remembered having seen the gentleman once or twice in the park at
+Baden, and thought him, with his splendid eyes, graying hair and
+military bearing, a man of no ordinary appearance. He had the air of a
+person looking for some one, and the expression was sad. Under ordinary
+circumstances I should have been curious to learn more of him. My
+coolness of manner, accompanied by the almost rude brevity of my replies
+to his few ventured remarks, seemed to amuse him, for he smilingly
+observed that I was a true "Anglaise."
+
+To be taken for English always aroused my honest indignation, and I
+quickly retorted, "Pardon, mais je ne suis pas Anglaise."
+
+"Vraiment! but you speak with the English accent."
+
+"Quite possible, monsieur, as English is my mother tongue, but I am a
+_vrai Americaine."_
+
+"_Americaine! Americaine!_" he repeated eagerly. "I once knew an
+American lady, and I should prize above all things some knowledge of
+her. I hope I may have the honor--" A blast from the engine broke upon
+his speech at that juncture: we were at Baden.
+
+Hastily thanking him--for abroad one falls into the continental habit of
+thanking people "mille fois" for what they do not do, as for what they
+do do--and saying "Bon jour," I hurried off to the Bergstrasse. The next
+morning I refunded my borrowed guldens to the master of the cafe by post
+(as I had not placed my entire bank in my purse), and feeling
+conscience-smitten at having, in my direst extremity, been befriended by
+one of those "dreadful Austrians" whom I had so bitterly berated, I
+hinted my amazement, along with my thanks, at having been the recipient
+of so graceful and needed a courtesy from a Viennese. He acknowledged
+the receipt of the money, adding, "I hope you do not take me for a
+Viennese: I am a Bavarian, and have lived twelve years in England."
+
+Among the occupants of the house and dwellers in the garden where I
+lodged and lived was a young Austrian woman, two years married, with
+whom I formed a pleasant acquaintance, and whose chatty ways rapidly
+revived my knowledge of the German, in which language only she could
+express herself. I shall not soon forget her, for she told me that she
+married to please the "Eltern"--that she "had never loved," and was so
+naive in her mode of reasoning as to prove a source of infinite
+surprise. She had no conception of any destiny for a girl but that of
+marriage, and never tired of asking about "American girls," whom I
+described as oftentimes living and dying unmarried.
+
+"And do not the parents force them to marry? And what do they do if not
+marry? And when they get old, what becomes of them? And they are
+_doctors_ even? Did you ever see a woman-doctor?" etc., etc., and
+hundreds of similar questions.
+
+One evening, two or three days after the "robbery," we went to sit in
+the park and listen to the music. On the end of a bench where we sat
+down was a poorly-clad, miserable-looking woman, who occupied herself in
+dozing and waking. I had no money in my pocket, but I could not rid
+myself of the idea that the poor wretch was dying of hunger, and her
+sharp contrast to the hundreds of elegantly-dressed people all about her
+and constantly moving to and fro only gave more force to her isolation
+and misery. At length, perhaps more to relieve my mind than otherwise, I
+begged my _Nachbarin_ to lend me a coin, which I slipped without a word
+into the creature's hand. To the surprise of both of us, she made no
+sign of acceptance or thanks. Ten or fifteen minutes later she rose, and
+coming near us she began to stammer out her thanks and to tell us how
+poor she was--that she could not work, and that for a month she had been
+coming to the park, hoping that where there were so many rich people
+some would kindly give her a trifle; but that in all that time but one
+person had done so--a gentleman who had given her a gulden; and if we
+would look she would point him out. We looked: it was the distinguished
+stranger. I confess to have been gratified, and to feeling confident
+that if he was one of the foreigners that Aunt Edith had bade me beware
+of, he was at least a gentleman and a Christian.
+
+The last of August was nearing, and, as the heat was intense, I often
+went up a hill at the back of the park to be alone and enjoy the breezy
+atmosphere and the charming view the elevation commanded. On one of
+these occasions--it was the twenty-fifth and my birthday--I was more
+than usually absorbed in my thoughts when my attention was caught by a
+shadow passing over the declivity a little removed from where I sat, and
+looking up I recognized the giver of alms. He lifted his hat, begged
+pardon and hoped it was not an indiscretion to ask if I had recovered my
+purse; which opened the way to further conversation. The sun was fast
+setting, and the scene on earth and sky was resplendent. Leaning upon a
+rock, he contemplated the miracle in silent adoration.
+
+"Ah, that is equal to what I have so often seen in America," I remarked.
+
+After a moment he replied, "For many years no land has so much
+interested me as America, and upon no people do I look with so much
+interest. America gave me my supremest joy and my profoundest sorrow.
+Perhaps this confession may, in a measure, excuse my impolite intrusion
+upon you, as I am so thoroughly a stranger."
+
+"Yes, and a foreigner," I laughed. "I have a dear, beautiful aunt Edith
+at home who warned me against foreigners. This is my _fete_, and as her
+birthday is the same as mine, I am naturally thinking of her just now,
+and recall her sage advice. As the sun is down, I will follow it and bid
+you good-night."
+
+As I rose to go he made no reply, as if he had been indifferent to what
+I had said. I glanced at his face: it was ashen white. He was opening a
+locket attached to his watchguard, from which he lifted a ring of dark
+hair, and then drawing it nearer his eyes he spoke as if reading a date:
+"Le vingt-cinq aout."
+
+The pallor of his face, joined to its outline, which was in full
+profile, held me where I stood as if spellbound. Somewhere, a long time
+ago, I had seen that face.
+
+"Yes, it is an unusual coincidence," he remarked, as if just
+comprehending what had been said. "But your aunt Edith must be much
+older than you?"
+
+"No: only ten years."
+
+"Is she married?"
+
+"No."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Nor I, monsieur. We belong to the noble army of old maids, which on the
+other side is a more honorable and obstinate sisterhood than here."
+
+He smiled faintly, and wiped his forehead with a large white
+handkerchief.
+
+"If I should go to America," he observed, "I should greatly desire to
+visit the locality where women like you live and die unmarried."
+
+"Oh, for that matter, you can't miss them," I replied laughingly:
+"they're common from Maine to California. Spinsterhood is an outgrowth
+of our Declaration of Independence--'liberty and the pursuit of
+happiness.'"
+
+"But, really, I desire to know the name of the place where you live: I
+am sure it will interest me greatly. Will you not write it for me?" And
+he offered me a blank card.
+
+"Oh, certainly, but I don't understand why."
+
+"I may possibly go and see your aunt Edith and tell her I saw you on the
+top of a mountain. Perhaps you would like to send her a message?"
+
+"Well, if you see her," I replied in the same tone, moving away, "tell
+her I haven't forgotten to beware of foreigners."
+
+"Just one more word," he entreated, following me. "Is your aunt Edith,
+Edith Mack?"
+
+"Yes, but how should you know?" and in that moment it flashed upon my
+mind like sudden daybreak. "And you are--" I stammered.
+
+"A man who has loved her many a year. To-morrow I leave Vienna for
+England, to sail for New York. I cannot say more to you now than that I
+begin to see my way through a sad, sad mystery. Here is my card.
+Adieu!"
+
+The bright glow left in the atmosphere by the brilliant sunset had quite
+died away, but it was light enough for me to read the superscription:
+"LE CHEVALIER ACHILLE ROMA."
+
+I walked back to my lodgings in a manner probably quite sane to other
+people, although the distance was compassed by myself in a condition of
+complete unconsciousness as to how. Like the phantasmagoria of fated
+events swept before my mind the train of complicated circumstances that
+had led to my finding Aunt Edith's lost lover. And the beautiful romance
+at the end had resulted from my having disregarded her warning to
+"beware of foreigners."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There is not much more to tell. I left Baden at the end of the month,
+and returned to Paris. Six weeks later I had a letter from Aunt Edith
+urging me to come home for her wedding, which would take place prior to
+the holidays. The Chevalier Roma had long since become convinced that
+his "friend," the consul at Rome, was the key to the whole mischief, but
+his suspicions in that direction came too late for him to regain a clue
+to Aunt Edith. Several letters sent to her name at New York of course
+had never reached her. The surest and quickest way to accomplish his
+desire, to prove to the heart he had through so many years cherished how
+true and loyal had been his allegiance, how deep and sincere his love,
+was the one he had chosen and acted upon with such alacrity.
+
+A few weeks after my aunt's marriage I received the wedding-cards of
+Herr Schwager and Miss Kate Barton. After all, merry Kate had accepted a
+"horrid German" for her husband, and thereby the truth suddenly dawned
+upon my mind that _I_ had been the recipient of the Herr's exceeding
+kindness because I was "neighbor to the rose."
+
+MARY WAGER-FISHER.
+
+
+
+
+THE CENSUS OF 1880.
+
+
+The taking of the census of the United States is, at any time, an event
+of national interest and importance. That of the tenth census, in 1880,
+will be especially interesting, as marking the completion of the first
+century of our declared independence. We shall then ascertain, more
+fully and concisely than we have yet been able to do, exactly what
+progress has been made in one hundred years by a people left free to
+work out its own destiny, alike in form of government and in material,
+moral and intellectual development, under no check except its own
+self-imposed restraints. The record of such progress ought to be the
+most valuable contribution ever made to political, economic and social
+science. Whether it shall prove so or not depends chiefly on the manner
+in which the essential work is done. It is already time that public
+attention should be drawn to this important event, since the law under
+which the census is to be taken must, if it shall be at all adequate to
+the occasion, be passed by the present Congress.
+
+The United States is the first nation which ever implanted in its
+Constitution a provision for taking at regular periods a census of its
+people. The makers of that instrument seemed to have an intuitive sense
+of the importance of such a step, for they had no guide and borrowed
+from no precedent. It is true the fundamental law provides only for an
+enumeration of persons, but under the authority given to Congress to
+"provide for the general welfare" such laws have heretofore been passed
+as have rendered our census reports documents of inestimable value. It
+is doubtful if any people have ever taken so great pains to find out
+"how they are getting along," or have ever made so great and immediate
+use of that information. So marked is the fact that the Constitution
+requires a decennial census that a distinguished French writer on
+statistics declares, "The United States presents in its history a
+phenomenon which has no parallel. It is that of a people who instituted
+the statistics of their country on the very day when they formed their
+government, and who regulated in the same instrument the census of their
+citizens, their civil and political rights and the destinies of their
+country."
+
+To understand the progressive steps by which our census has reached its
+present magnitude and importance a brief glance is necessary at the
+successive laws under which the enumeration has been made and the manner
+in which their results have been presented.
+
+The first census was taken in 1790, under the act of March 1 of that
+year, and many of the worst features of that tentative experiment still
+remain to vex the soul of every one who desires a census which shall be
+in accord with the demands of science and the times. Then, as now, the
+United States marshals were designated to conduct the enumeration. They
+were authorized to employ as many assistants as might be needful, and
+each assistant was required, prior to making his return, to "cause a
+correct copy of the schedule, signed by himself, to be set up at two of
+the most public places within his division, there to remain for the
+inspection of all concerned." It is from this crude law that the
+mischievous custom is borrowed of having a copy of the census returns
+deposited with the county court clerk. As originally conducted, the
+system was harmless, since only the names of heads of families were
+given and only the number of persons constituting the family reported.
+The compensation was also based on the number of persons returned by the
+assistant marshals. The form of schedule was as follows:
+
+
+  ______________________________________________________________
+           |Free White |          |          |         |
+           |Males of 16|          |Free White|         |
+  Names of |years and  |Free White|Females,  |All Other|Slaves.
+  Heads of |upwards,   |Males     |including |Free     |
+  Families.|including  |under 16  |heads of  |Persons. |
+           |heads of   |years.    |families. |         |
+           |families.  |          |          |         |
+  --------------------------------------------------------------
+
+
+Such and so simple were the results sought at the first census, the
+enumeration for which was to commence on the 1st of August, 1790, and to
+close within nine months thereafter, and the returns were to be made to
+the President of the United States on or before September, 1, 1791.
+These results were published in an octavo pamphlet of fifty-two pages.
+No officer of the government seems to have had any supervision of the
+work of preparing it for the press. The returns were doubtless handed by
+the President to some clerk for compilation, and communicated to
+Congress along with other routine and miscellaneous documents
+accompanying the annual message.
+
+The second census was taken under the act of February 28, 1800, and,
+like the first, was confined to an enumeration of the population under
+the care of the United States marshals, but the whole work was
+prosecuted under the direction of the Secretary of State. The number of
+facts to be returned was somewhat enlarged by further inquiries into the
+ages of the inhabitants: otherwise there was no substantial change.
+
+The act providing for the taking of the third census was passed March
+26, 1810, and was almost identical with that for the second census.
+
+A great step in advance was, however, taken in the act of May 1, 1810,
+which imposed upon the marshals and their assistants the additional duty
+of taking, under direction of the Secretary of the Treasury, Albert
+Gallatin, an account of the manufacturing establishments and
+manufactures of the several districts, at an aggregate expense not
+exceeding thirty thousand dollars.
+
+The only changes introduced into the act of March 14, 1820, for taking
+the fourth census, provided for a return of the number of males between
+sixteen and eighteen, the number of foreigners not naturalized, and the
+colored population by age and sex. The provisions for a return of
+manufactures were re-enacted, the results to be reported to the
+Secretary of State (J.Q. Adams). But these returns, like those of the
+third census, were of very slight value.
+
+In the act of March 23, 1830, for taking the fifth census, provision is
+made for ascertaining the number of blind and deaf and dumb, and the
+returns of age and sex were required with greater fulness than before.
+The time for commencing the enumeration was changed from August 1 to
+June 1, and the work was to be completed in six instead of nine months.
+The return of manufactures required by the two preceding census laws was
+omitted.
+
+The act of March 3, 1839, for the sixth census, differed very slightly
+from that for the fifth, except that returns were also required of the
+number of insane and idiotic, the number of Revolutionary pensioners,
+and of the manufacturing, agricultural and educational statistics. By an
+amendment adopted February 26, 1840, the time for completing the
+enumeration was reduced to five months from June 1, and, for the first
+time provision is made for special supervision of the work by requiring
+the appointment of a superintending clerk.
+
+Thus it appears that down to the taking of the sixth census, in 1840,
+the chief object aimed at was the enumeration of the population. No
+effort was made to arrive at, or even approach, by any thorough and
+scientific process the great facts relating to our material progress and
+prosperity, or to supervise the publication of such returns as were
+required. But the report for that year shows a great advance over any
+preceding one both in quantity and quality of information. The decade
+then closing was one of great life and movement. The States west of the
+Alleghanies were rapidly filling up with immigrants, whose arrival was
+followed by speculations hitherto unknown. Fabulous wealth was speedily
+followed by utter bankruptcy. The railroad, the steamship and the
+telegraph foreshadowed the approaching revolution in methods of commerce
+and communication. A new life was dawning.
+
+These commercial changes and social revolutions were continued with
+increasing intensity during the next decade. The great famine in Ireland
+sent us swarms of laborers. The Mexican war brought us California, and
+the discovery of gold there marked the beginning of a new era in our
+material condition. It was under the influence of these stimulating
+events that the seventh census was undertaken. To make such preparations
+that it should, to some extent, embody the spirit of the time and
+furnish us with a correct statement of our condition under the new
+impulses and burdens of the nation, an act was passed March 3, 1849,
+creating a census board, whose duty it should be to prepare, and cause
+to be printed, forms and schedules for the enumeration of the
+population, and also for collecting "such information as to mines,
+agriculture, commerce, manufactures, education and other topics as will
+exhibit a full view of the pursuits, industry, education and resources
+of the country; _provided_, the number of said inquiries, exclusive of
+enumeration, shall not exceed one hundred." On the same day the
+Department of the Interior was established, and all matters relating to
+the census were transferred to that department. The census board
+reported "an act for taking the seventh and subsequent censuses of the
+United States," which became a law May 23, 1850, and under that law the
+censuses of 1850, 1860 and 1870 were taken.
+
+However far that law was an improvement upon either of those under which
+the preceding censuses were taken, it is now wholly inadequate--so much
+so, indeed, that the superintendent of the ninth census (1870) declared,
+"It is not possible for one who has had such painful occasion as the
+present superintendent to observe the workings of the census law of 1870
+to characterize it otherwise than as clumsy, antiquated and barbarous.
+The machinery it provides is as unfit for use in the census of the
+United States in this day of advanced statistical science as the
+smooth-bore muzzle-loading 'queen's arm' of the Revolution would be for
+service against the repeating rifle of the present time." It includes
+many inquiries which are practically worthless, and excludes many
+vitally necessary to an understanding of our social and industrial
+condition. Thus the questions, "Has this season produced average crops?"
+"What crops are short?" "What are the average wages of a female domestic
+per week, without board?" "How much road-tax did you pay, and how?" may
+be of some interest, if regarded as conundrums, but are practically of
+as little value as the color of one's hair or the average number of
+hours one sleeps; while, as matters of fact, the answers to them have
+been so unsatisfactory that no attempt has ever been made to classify
+them, and in the census of 1870 they were discarded altogether, though
+still forming part of the law. Nor is the method required for
+ascertaining the facts relating to manufactures of any greater value.
+The inquiries are the same in regard to every kind of industry, whether
+the product be cloth, leather, iron or silver, and are confined solely
+to wages, kinds and quantities. No means are provided for ascertaining
+with skill and exactness the necessary details of the varied
+manufactures of the country. The schedules for agricultural returns are
+also the same for all sections--for cotton and sugar-cane in Maine, for
+maple-sugar and hops in Louisiana. These, however, are merely
+superficial defects, some of which might easily be remedied in the hands
+of a competent superintendent, as was the case with the census of 1870.
+The graver inherent defects are equally obvious, but not equally
+susceptible of remedy. Nothing short of a new law will accomplish that
+result.
+
+In the first place, the officer designated to take the census is, in
+every point of view, objectionable. That officer is the United States
+marshal, originally selected, probably, for no better reason than that,
+as there was such an officer in every State whose services could be made
+available, it was better to use him than to create a new office. But
+neither the legitimate duties of his office nor the department to which
+he belongs justify such a selection. His duties are chiefly connected
+with violations of law, and he is necessarily associated in public
+opinion with the criminal side of life. A police-officer is not a good
+census-taker. Moreover, many of the States are divided into several
+marshalships from considerations which do not at all enter into the
+taking of the census. Thus, New York has three districts, the largest of
+which contains more than two and a quarter millions of inhabitants,
+while Florida has two districts, the smaller of which, but by far the
+more important so far as the legitimate duties of the marshal are
+concerned, contains scarcely six thousand inhabitants. Massachusetts is
+a district with over a million and a third of people: so is Arizona,
+with less than ten thousand.
+
+Then the methods of payment are unfair, irrational and cumbersome. They
+bear no relation to the amount of work performed, are irregular in their
+operation, are obscure in their manner of calculation, and impose
+needless labor alike on the officer to be paid and the census office. To
+say that the square root of an area multiplied by the square root of the
+number of horses indicates the number of miles travelled in taking a
+census is as absurd as to say that the square root of the yards of cloth
+in a suit multiplied by the square root of the number of stitches taken
+to make the suit will give the length of the thread used. In its
+practical working in 1860 the result was to give to one assistant
+marshal a per diem of $1.66 and to another $31.32 for the same labor. A
+proposition which works out such a result may serve for a joke in negro
+minstrelsy: it will hardly be accepted as honest figuring by the
+recipient of the minimum pay.
+
+But the greatest objection of all is to the schedules created by the law
+of 1850. The number of inquiries is limited by that law to one hundred,
+though why that number should be selected as the limit, except at
+haphazard, is a mystery. It is purely arbitrary, and in its practical
+working is mischievous. Statistical inquiries ought to be exhaustive,
+whether the questions asked are ten or ten thousand. To limit the number
+to one hundred requires the lumping together of incongruous facts or
+the entire omission of some of prime importance. Of what real value is
+the answer to the question, "Kind of motive-power?" in relation to
+manufactures unless other details are given? Yet only such questions can
+be asked where the margin is so narrow. In the census of Massachusetts
+for 1875, 304 inquiries were made, embracing 1337 topics; and so
+satisfactorily was the work done that out of a population of 1,651,912
+only 43 persons were unaccounted for when the statistics of occupations
+were compiled; while in the United States census of 1870 the number thus
+unaccounted for exceeded 1,000,000. In Rhode Island no less than 561
+inquiries were made in the census of 1875, and the result is the most
+complete census--not merely of persons, but of every kind of manufacture
+and production--yet taken in any State. The returns of cotton, woollen
+and iron manufactures show what can and ought to be done in that
+direction for the whole nation in 1880. They answer the requirements set
+forth by the superintendent of the census of 1870 by presenting "tables
+so full of technical information as to become the handbook of
+manufacturers."
+
+By the side of the census reports for 1875 of Massachusetts and Rhode
+Island, and even of the young State of Iowa, those of the United States
+hitherto published appear like incomplete, vague and childish efforts.
+For instance, in the census of Massachusetts for 1875, in the
+agricultural statistics, 140 different items are reported, exclusive of
+10 included among "domestic products," but reckoned in the United States
+census among agricultural products. Of these 150 items, only 24 are
+reported in the United States census of 1870, although some of those
+omitted are from $1,500,000 to $5,000,000 in annual value. In the case
+of manufactures the defects are still more striking--ludicrously so but
+for the importance of the subject. By the schedules of 1850 the facts
+called for in regard to manufactures are simply these: number of
+establishments, horse-power, hands employed, capital, wages, materials,
+products. The 1 establishment which employed 3 hands and turned out
+$3000 worth of artificial eyes demanded and received exactly the same
+treatment with the 22,573 flouring- and grist-mills with their army of
+58,448 workmen and $444,985,143 of products. On this Procrustean bed all
+are stretched or shrunken--the giant industries by which men are fed,
+clothed, housed and shod, with their 1,000,000 of men and $2,000,000,000
+of products, and the pigmy occupations of making skewers,
+calcium-lights, mops, dusters, etc., employing 150 persons and
+aggregating $150,000 of products.
+
+And this leads directly to a consideration of the measures necessary to
+secure a proper census of the United States in 1880. To begin with, as
+already reiterated, a new law is imperatively demanded: no good thing
+can come of the present statute. As early as possible during this
+present Congress a committee on the tenth census should be appointed,
+which should carefully study the laws and methods of every civilized
+state and country in which a census is taken, and from these collect
+whatever is best, giving at the same time ample power to the
+superintendent in all matters of administration and appointment. Such a
+law might be as short and simple as that of Rhode Island, which is
+comprised in eight brief sections, yet is so comprehensive that under
+its provisions was compiled the most complete census yet taken in this
+country, if not in the world.
+
+The time at which the census is taken should be changed from June 1 to
+at least November 1, if not to January 1, when the labors of the year
+are ended, when the harvest has been gathered in, the books made up and
+the family naturally talk over the events of the past twelve-month.
+Then, if ever, is the time when full, frank and honest answers will be
+given, and the census-taker will be hailed rather as a friend than an
+enemy in disguise. The method adopted years ago in all other civilized
+countries, and in Massachusetts and Rhode Island in 1875, of leaving the
+blank schedules in advance at each house and manufactory, to be filled
+up carefully and thoughtfully, and to be called for on a given day,
+should also be adopted. The result of the first attempt in Massachusetts
+was that 37 per cent. of the schedules was found ready for delivery to
+the enumerator, and for the remaining 63 per cent. the labor was greatly
+diminished by the readiness of the people to answer all inquiries
+intelligently. The number who at first failed or refused to comply was
+only one hundred, and of manufacturers less than twenty; and these all
+subsequently made the necessary returns. The total answers of all kinds
+received at the census office was 13,000,000, at a cost to the State of
+one dollar for each hundred answers.
+
+Under such a law, enacted by the present Congress, and by such methods,
+the census report of 1880 would become a document to which every good
+citizen could point with pride and congratulation. We should no longer
+be mortified with such errors and shortcomings as are so frankly
+commented on in the census report of 1870. We should have not merely a
+correct enumeration of the population, with all the important facts
+connected with their domestic and social condition, but also such a
+return of the occupations, manufacturing industries, education and
+commercial operations, and all the elements which go to make up the
+material well-being of the races on this portion of the continent, as
+would mark a new departure in our national life. The absurd inanities
+which characterize so much of the report of the superintendent of the
+census of 1860, and the _doctrinaire_ theories injected into the report
+of 1850, ought never again to find expression in any public document
+bearing the official sanction of the United States.
+
+The census report of 1860, as compared with that of 1870, is as the
+Serbonian bog to a well-appointed lawn. For the first time since its
+inception the taking of the census was in 1870 placed in thoroughly
+competent hands. By inherited ability, as well as by previous training,
+General Walker possesses in an eminent degree the qualities essential to
+the fitting and successful execution of such a task. At every step he
+shows the skill and readiness of a master workman; and it will be
+fortunate for the country if he shall be selected as superintendent of
+the tenth census under a law of his own devising.
+
+As to the results to be revealed by the tenth census, it is not worth
+while to speculate. That they will be disappointing in many aspects to
+the national pride, or at least to the national vanity, there can be
+little doubt; but it is to be hoped we have outlived the period when the
+truth can make us angry. Of course there will be no such increase of
+population as marked our earlier career down to 1860, nor should we
+expect much increase in the reported wealth of the country since 1870.
+For the first time, except in the decade from 1820 to 1830, there will
+be no increase of area, unless all signs fail. Whatever the changes may
+be, they will more fully concern our social and political condition than
+in any previous decade, except perhaps the last.
+
+An early and intelligent interest in this important subject is all that
+is requisite to secure the needed reform. It is not creditable to the
+country that the census of 1870 was taken under the provisions of the
+law of 1850: it will be disgraceful should that of 1880 be subjected to
+the same fate, as it must be unless a new law is passed before the first
+of January of that year. The matter should be pressed upon the attention
+of Congress during its present session. In 1870 an admirable law was
+passed by the House of Representatives under the skilful and intelligent
+leadership of Hon. James A. Garfield, but it failed in the Senate
+because of the apathy of some and the personal pique of others. It seems
+incredible that in that dignified body so little attention was paid to
+this vast subject. Again and again its consideration was postponed
+because a sufficient attendance could not be secured to act upon the
+proposed law, which at last fell to the ground, a victim to the
+indifference and prejudice of those who ought to have acted more wisely
+in a matter that so nearly concerns the welfare and good name of a great
+nation.
+
+HENRY STONE.
+
+
+
+
+CHANG-HOW AND ANARKY.
+
+
+"Gret beezle!"
+
+A dismayed silence while Anarky, our cook--black as night, eyes set
+square in her head, that head set level on her stout black
+shoulders--walked around the Chinese youth my husband had brought home
+as an experiment in our domestic life--around the Chinese youth with his
+wiry frame and insinuating stoop of the shoulders, and a smile of
+neutral tint lying placid but wary on his buff countenance.
+
+"Lordy-mussy!" quoth Anarky. Another vehement, aggressive pause on her
+part, a silence observant and self-defensive on his. "Name o' Satan,
+Mis' Maud! what is it?"
+
+"This is to be your fellow-servant, Anarky."
+
+"Gret Beezle! Wish I may die ef I didn't think it wor a yaller rat!"
+
+"Anarky, I am ashamed of you! What should Mr. Smith want with a yellow
+rat?"
+
+"Thought he bought it at de sukus in New York, an' gif to you like he
+did dat monkey. Ef it ain't no rat, an' ain't a monkey, name o' Satan,
+what kin it be? 'Tain't a 'ooman, for all dem gret long sleeves: you
+know dat yo'se'f. An' 'tain't like no man as eber _I_ seed. What dat
+hangin' on to its head? An' what motter wid its eyes, sot crank-sided
+right 'ginst its nose, kickin' up der heels, pintin' ebry way for
+Sunday--one en' uv um ez sharp as a 'nittin'-needle, an' tudder en' ez
+roun' ez a marble?"
+
+Chang-how sent one eye skirmishing in my direction, and the other toward
+Anarky, and the same deprecatory yet wary smile rested like moonlight on
+his placid face.
+
+"That will do, Anarky," said I. "I wish you to understand that this is
+to be your fellow-servant. You will cook and wash as usual. Chang-how
+will attend in the dining-room, and do I don't know yet exactly what
+else; but I wish you to be kind to him, remembering that he is a
+stranger in a strange land. Also, I will have no further remarks on his
+personal appearance."
+
+Silenced by authority, but unmoved by my eloquence, Anarky made another
+tour of inspection--silently raised the end of Chang-how's queue,
+disgustedly let it fall, and went to the door. There she stopped and
+looked at him again. "Good Lord!" said she under her breath by way of
+parting salute.
+
+The look of mild unconcern that had rested on Chang-how's features was
+rippled by a quaint, cunning smile, and for the first time he cast a
+quick glance full at her, then stood again with folded hands, calm,
+submissive, apparently unobservant.
+
+Seeing the antagonism that was likely to exist between them, I myself
+showed Chang-how and his bundle to the room he was to occupy, and in a
+short time he emerged clad in a neat white jacket, his queue deftly
+bound around his head, ready for business.
+
+The fellow was exceedingly bright and quick, and, though he never seemed
+to be "takin' notes," nothing escaped his observation. He learned our
+ways in an incredibly short time, and when those ways did not come in
+conflict with any habit previously formed he adapted himself to them at
+once; but woe to any pet notion that interfered with Chang's
+preconceived ideas! That notion had to go to the wall. However, that has
+nothing to do here.
+
+Whether Chang-how had been "takin' notes" was a debatable point, but
+that somebody was taking everything takable on the premises soon became
+a self-evident proposition; and this was uncomfortable for more reasons
+than one. Mr. Smith and I almost quarrelled about it. He would not
+believe it to be Chang-how, and I was determined it should not be
+Anarky. Said he, "Anarky is taking advantage of the popular idea that
+the Chinese are invariably dis--"
+
+"Now, who ever heard anything like that?" I interrupted. "What does
+Anarky know about the popular idea concerning the Chinese? About as much
+as I should know if you were to talk to me about the Teutonic idiom for
+mezzo-tinted phonetics."
+
+"You have convinced me, my dear, that Chang-how is the guilty party; but
+the idea I meant to convey before you knocked me down with those big
+words was this--that Anarky, knowing what people think of the Chinese,
+indulges her dishonest yearnings, believing we shall suppose the thief
+to be Chang-how."
+
+"But I know it _isn't_ Anarky, because Anarky always had a blundering,
+awkward, above-board way of stealing that made it only _taking_ things,
+and she was always getting caught; and Chang-how always manages not to
+be found out. And I know it is Chang-how; I know it by that. It shows he
+is used to it."
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"It does! and I know it _is_ Chang-how and it _isn't_ Anarky."
+
+Then Mr. Smith laughed again, and said women were born to be lawyers.
+
+Chang-how would come to me (he was dining-room servant, you remember):
+"Evly one spoonee no come homee."
+
+"How you mean, Chang-how? Where spoonee go?"
+
+"All no light: all longee. Spoonee go 'way: I no find him."
+
+"Oh, but you must find them, Chang-how. How many go?"
+
+"Four spoonee."
+
+"But they are solid silver! You really must find them."
+
+"You tell where lookee, I go lookee."
+
+"I am sure I don't know were you are to look. And two forks were missing
+last week!"
+
+I stared reflectively at a June-bug on the window-sill. Chang-how stood
+with folded hands and drooping shoulders, a seraphic calm upon his
+features, as of one who had stood upon the burning deck when all but he
+had fled. Evidently he had done his duty. I was so impressed with this
+fact, and that the responsibility, if not the guilt, was now mine, that
+I simply said, "Go set the table then, Chang-how. Mr. Smith will have
+to tell us what to do when he comes home."
+
+Exit Chang.
+
+Enter Anarky: "Mis' Maud, how many hank'chers you sent out dis week?"
+
+"Twenty-three, I believe."
+
+"An' now I ain't got but nineteen. You see dat? How many socks for Mas'
+Jim?"
+
+"Six or seven, I suppose. Why?"
+
+"You see dat again? Ain't but fo' par lef'! Ef I don't beat him, shoze
+I'm a nigger!"
+
+"Your Mas' Jim?" I asked, smiling.
+
+"'Tain't nobody but dat yaller varmint dat's stealin' roun' de
+lot.--Lor'! Lor'! ef I jes' could cotch him!"
+
+"Anarky, while we are talking about it, I--I really wish you would
+manage a little better about the biscuit and--well, the eggs, and--and a
+good many little things of the kind. I am sure we have an abundance of
+everything, and it mortifies me exceedingly not to have it at table.
+Haven't you and Chang everything you want, and as much?"
+
+"We gits more'n 'nuff. An' what goes outen de kitchen goes correc'. Whar
+dey lands 'tween dar an' de din'-room don't nobody know but dat yaller
+dorg. I misses things cornstant--things dat I ain't took my eyes off
+'em, 'cep' ter wink; an', bless de Lord! while I wor a-winkin' de lard
+done took to its heels or de flour flewed away."
+
+The next evening, when Chang brought in supper, Anarky walked by his
+side in solemn state, empty-handed, dignified, watchful. He appeared
+totally unconscious of his escort, and I made no remark; but Mr. Smith
+sent him into the hall on an errand, and during his absence Anarky rose
+to explain: "Which you see all dem biskit, Mis' Maud?"
+
+"Yes: I am glad we are getting all right again, Anarky."
+
+"Well, I got dat many mo' in de ub'n now--jes' like I use ter hab 'fo'
+dat--" Here an appalling idea seemed to strike her. "War dat Chow-chow
+nigger?" she exclaimed, and made a dash toward the door. As she reached
+it Chang-how quietly glided in and handed Mr. Smith the paper he had
+gone for.
+
+The next moment a sound came from the kitchen--something between a howl
+and a roar--and following in its wake came Anarky. Almost inarticulate
+with rage, she shook her brawny fist in Chang-how's face. "You
+good-fur-nuthin' yaller _houn'!_" she exclaimed.
+
+Mr. Smith wheeled around on his chair and looked at her in stern
+surprise. Chang-how stood his ground and gazed at her with the unruffled
+calm of a full moon beaming o'er a raging sea.
+
+She turned to us, trembling with excitement: "Well, ef dat ain't de
+beatinest trick et ebber I seed! Think dat yaller houn' ain't stole de
+biskit outen de ub'n? An', 'fo' Gord! I didn't know he'd been out o'
+here long 'nuff for a dog to snap at a fly! Ef you ain't de
+oudaishusest--" She stopped and glared at him with the despairing,
+silent venom of one who felt herself a pauper in words, a verbal
+failure, a wretched creature who in the supreme hour of trial was
+proving herself the wrong person in the wrong place.
+
+Chang-how's hands were folded, and his eyes rested dreamily on the
+floor. Evidently, he was contentedly rolling tea-leaves in his native
+land.
+
+Suspiciously regarding the abnormal appearance of Chang-how's neat white
+jacket, I forbore to rebuke my sable favorite, but Mr. Smith, not having
+observed the little protuberances which had attracted my attention
+toward his more delicately-tinted protege, said with decision, "Go to
+the kitchen, Anarky, and send in supper or bring it yourself; and make
+haste about it."
+
+Anarky turned again to Chang-how and fixed her great black eyes on him
+in silence. Then she sounded a note of solemn warning: "Lord! Lord!
+Shang-hai!" said she, "ef ebber I _does_ cotch you out an' out, ef ebber
+I _does_ git a good square holt on you, I'll t'ar you all to pieces! Yo'
+mammy won't want what'll be left uv you, 'cos' 'twon't be wuf berryin'!"
+
+"Shut upee! too much jawee," said Chang-how benignly, and dreamed again
+of his native land. But for three days nothing was missing in Anarky's
+department, and so far Chang-how escaped with unbroken bones.
+
+On the evening of the fourth day I received a letter announcing the
+coming of visitors, and it unfortunately occurred to me that Chang-how
+might assist Anarky in the laundry, thus affording her an opportunity
+for greater display in the culinary department; so I called him up: "You
+washeeman, Chang-how?"
+
+"Oh yes, I washee all light," said Chang.
+
+"You help Anarky iron to-day I give you more money."
+
+"All light! How muchee?"
+
+"One dollar."
+
+"Two dollar."
+
+"One dollar."
+
+"No washee one dollar," said Chang.
+
+"No washee at all, then."
+
+"One dollar ap."
+
+"Nor a dollar and a half: I get other washee."
+
+"Melican man no washee ap."
+
+"Oh yes. Melican woman suit me."
+
+"All light! I washee one dollar."
+
+"Very well. As soon, then, as you leave the dining-room go to the
+laundry. And, Chang, no make cook cross."
+
+"Cook too much talkee: cookee bad egg."
+
+"Well, you no make cookee cross perhaps I give you more money."
+
+"All light! How muchee?"
+
+"No matter: a quarter."
+
+"Ap."
+
+"A half, then."
+
+Going to the laundry, I said to Anarky, "Chang-how will assist you in
+the ironing to-day, so that you can get through quickly and show my
+friends some of your best cooking, Anarky. I do hope--"
+
+"What Shang-doodle know 'bout i'unin'?" asked Anarky sulkily.
+
+"Oh, he knows ever so much," said I with cheerful faith; "and I do hope
+you will try to get on nicely with him this time. You know what the
+Bible says about brothers dwelling together in unity, and all that?"
+
+"Chang-jaw ain't none o' my brudder, an' I ain't none o' his'n,"
+resisted Anarky.
+
+"Oh yes, we are all brothers; and if you will only be Chang-how's long
+enough to get through with the ironing, I will give you almost anything
+you want."
+
+"Gimme a nigger all day long," said Anarky: "I fa'rly hates a Chinee an'
+a Orrisher."
+
+"Try it to-day, though, Anarky, for my sake," said I persuasively; and
+she consented, though sulkily enough.
+
+Hearing Chang-how coming, I seated myself on the stairway leading into
+the laundry, curious to see how they would work together.
+
+Anarky pointed authoritatively to a heap of dried linen. "Sprinkle dem
+ar cloze," said she to Chang. "I'm gwine out in de yard to git what's on
+de line."
+
+While she was gone, Chang-how, as is the manner of his people, filled
+his mouth with water, and was blowing it in a fine spray over the linen
+when Anarky appeared in the doorway, a basket of clothes on her head,
+her knuckles on her hips. As she caught sight of Chang-how moistening
+the linen with water from his mouth she stopped: she staggered, her
+basket fell to the floor, and, stooping down, she threw her hands above
+her head, then brought them down again with a violent slap on her knees.
+
+"Good Lor'! come down," said she, "an' look at dat yaller houn'
+a-spittin' on Mis' Maud's cloze.--I got you now! Can't nobody blame me
+fur beatin' you 'bout _dat_."
+
+Then she flew at him, and what a scene it was! She, black, brawny, of
+immense physical power--he, lithe, sinewy, supple as a panther. It was a
+spectacle! First one, then the other, seemed to have the advantage. She
+would catch him in her powerful grasp, and, lifting him off his feet,
+swing him in the air as if about to slam him to his final resting-place,
+when by some inexplicable manoeuvre he would writhe from between her
+fingers or wriggle himself to the back of her neck and mash her nose
+flat against her breast as if bent on suffocating her or breaking her
+neck. In a moment she would reach back with both hands and pull him over
+her head very much as men doff a shirt. Likely as not, Chang came down
+with his heels in the air, and at it they would go again. Presently she
+was tripped, and fell with a violence that should have broken every bone
+in her body, but before Chang-how could pursue his advantage she had
+wheeled on her side, wound his queue halfway up her arm and had her knee
+on his breast.
+
+"Good for you, An--! I mean, aren't you ashamed of yourself? Stop! for
+Heaven's sake, stop! You might kill him."
+
+As well have spoken to the winds. And as they became more terribly in
+earnest I began to scream for help: "Stop, Anarky! (Murder! murder!)--Here,
+Chang, take the poker. (_Mu--u--u--r--_der!) Great Heaven! don't hit her
+with it! Stop, Chang-how! (Mur--_d--e--r!_ Oh, mercy! somebody
+come!)--Here, Anarky, take the pota- (Mur--_d--e--r--rr!_)--potato-masher
+and don't kill (_M--u--r_--der!)--kill him with it, unless he kills you
+first.--Oh, mercy! mercy! I don't know what else to give you all to keep
+you from killing (Murder!)--killing each other with.--Anarky, you are
+breaking his neck!--Here's a flatiron, Chang! (Murder! Fire! fire! fire!)"
+
+This brought the neighbors and the neighbors' children, and their
+neighbors and their neighbors' children, and finally a forlorn
+policeman, who marched Anarky to the magistrate's office and left Chang
+to do up his pigtail at leisure, and reflect how often he had sinned and
+gone unwhipt of justice, and now, in the hour of peace and in the act of
+duty, retribution had deliberately sought him out, and found him and
+disposed of him as afore told.
+
+It seems that Anarky went quietly enough to the magistrate, who gave her
+the choice between going to jail and depositing five dollars as security
+for her appearance next morning for examination. Not having five dollars
+to deposit, she was allowed an hour in which to seek some one who would
+go bail for her. At the end of that time she returned to the office
+panting, exhausted, wiping the perspiration from her face with her blue
+cotton apron.
+
+"Who is going bail for you?" she was asked.
+
+Calmly turning down the sleeves that had been rolled above her shining
+black elbows, she replied with contempt, "I ain't been arter no bail: I
+dun been home an' finish beatin' de lites outen dat yaller houn'. Dat
+all de bail _I_ wants! Which ef ennybody's lookin' fur him, dey kin
+fin' his pigtail, an' maybe a piece uv his head a-stickin' to it, hin'
+de chick'n-coop at Mas' Jim's. Now kyar me to jail an' lemme res'. I
+boun' he don't spit on no mo' cloze _I_ got ter han'le!"
+
+JENNIE WOODVILLE.
+
+
+
+
+THE IDYL OF THE VAUCLUSE.
+
+
+A dusky opening in a range of purpling hills; a vision of a cluster of
+small white human homes; a shining, murmuring little river spanned by a
+wooden bridge; a towering background of bald, steep rock, cleft at its
+base into a shadowy cavern,--such is the first of my memories of the
+Vaucluse. At the entrance of the little town stands a low white-walled
+building, over the door of which is a tablet inscribed thus: "On the
+site of this cafe Petrarch established his study. Here he wrote the
+lines--
+
+    O soave contrada, O puro fiume,
+    Che bagni 'l suo bel viso e gli occhi chiari."
+
+On the banks of the classic Sorgue I was offered the photographs of
+Petrarch and Laura. I took them, and there, with the sweet May sunlight
+flooding all the sod, with the fresh spring grass and buds bursting into
+life beneath my feet, with the murmur of the glad young river in my
+ears, I stood and gazed upon the faces of those lovers of five hundred
+years ago, whose love was as a spring-time idyl. For they met in the
+spring, they parted in the spring, their intercourse was like the
+mingling of young winds with woodland violets; and, dust and ashes
+though they have been for centuries, they still prefigure to our hearts
+the eternal spring-time of the world.
+
+And yet, could the picture that I held in my hand be a faithful
+reproduction of the famous portrait of Laura which was painted at the
+request of Petrarch by Simon Menimi and charmed him into verse with its
+loveliness? It represented simply the head and bust. The face was
+elongated, the cheeks hollow, the hair smoothed down below the ears. The
+long, oval, half-shut eyes wore a horrible leer, as though the owner
+were making a painful effort to close them. On the head was a stiff,
+ungainly jewelled helmet, which terminated low on the forehead in a
+triangular ornament. The long, slender throat was encircled by three
+rows of pearls. The dress was cut squarely across the neck, and was
+checkered off like a draught-board, while over one shoulder was thrown a
+small lace scarf. The whole expression of the figure was that of
+serious, earnest sobriety and saintliness, as understood by a mediaeval
+painter and treated according to his conception of his art, which
+recognized no difference between a man's earthly love and his spiritual
+patron, and made them equally crude, righteous, quaint and angular.
+
+But I felt that these harsh distorted outlines had naught in common with
+Petrarch's Laura. For she had golden hair that floated loose in the
+breeze and was the prison of enchained and captive Love, and she had
+roses, red and white, upon her face, and a throat of snowy purity, and a
+smile of such rare gentleness that when she passed them by men said,
+"Sure this is an angel come from heaven!" That is the Laura who for
+centuries has beamed upon humanity--a sweet, benign, refreshing
+presence--from within her lover's sonnets. That is the Laura in whose
+reality I believe, but the Laura who lies imprisoned and disguised
+behind the grotesque mask of mediaeval art I cannot, will not, recognize.
+In Petrarch's utterance I find Laura, a pure spiritual shape in mind and
+body and soul; but in her portrait I see only Laura clogged and choked
+and bound about with the trammels of early art and the weight of crude,
+untruthful detail. Thus, I believe that art at its best is but a dull,
+material, mechanical means for the translation or reproduction of
+thought and Nature, and that for the swift, living, electric flame of
+truth we must refer in all ages and climes to speech pure and
+simple--the speech of the poet.
+
+There are many who doubt that the words in which Petrarch clothed his
+love for Laura were words of sincerity and truth, and who blame his
+fatal tendency to utilize every incident and feeling connected with her.
+Unquestionably, there was a strong element of earthliness, a dilution of
+the pure essence of his affection, in much that Petrarch wrote. It could
+hardly have chanced otherwise with a man into whose life worldly
+intercourse entered so largely. There must have been times when the pure
+light of revelation was hidden from him, and he unknowingly supplied its
+place with fancies of a lower kind. His experiences as he met them one
+by one were, I doubt not, faithfully and sincerely treated, but after
+they had fallen into the past he was enabled to view them by the cold
+strong light of the intellect, and the instincts of his nature led him
+to incorporate them in verse. It has always been a concomitant of the
+poetic character, except perhaps in those lofty organizations whose
+utterances are revelations, to regard its own personality objectively
+and treat it as material for expression in speech. The very
+word-crystallization that a thought or sentiment, however full of
+inspiration, must needs undergo to make it palpable, denotes an amount
+of conscious effort which detracts in a measure from its apparent
+spontaneity. But in spite of the quaint conceits, the frequent play upon
+words, the unworthy tricks of speech, the painful sacrifice to rhyme
+which occasionally mar his verse, I believe Petrarch was sincere. If he
+was only a pretence and a sham, then all the amatory poetry that has
+been written since his time, intellectual or analytic, passionate or
+sensuous, is a pretence and a sham. Petrarch's utterance must needs have
+been founded on truth, else never could it have stood the test of five
+centuries, and never would it have assimilated itself, as it has done,
+with the poetic speech of an entire race. I know of hardly an English
+poet in whose rhymes in the matter of love, and particularly among those
+of a narrower range of thought and a lower plane of vision, one cannot
+trace in a greater or less degree the influence of Petrarch. Thus, to
+me, Petrarch remains the very king of spring-time poets. There are
+summer poets, autumn poets and winter poets, but Petrarch was none of
+these. Neither his passion nor his poetry ever ripened into summer or
+faded into autumn. He will always typify the early youth of love and
+song. I can never open his book of sonnets that I do not hear the rustle
+of young winds in green boughs, and do not catch the faint sweet odor of
+violets and primroses--the violets and primroses that grow on the banks
+of the Sorgue in the Vaucluse--the violets and primroses that Laura wore
+in her hair when Petrarch saw her kneeling in the church of Santa Chiara
+in Avignon, and loved her all at once.
+
+The bright little river Sorgue is here a rushing brook, tumbling and
+foaming over the great stones in its bed, and imprisoned between two
+green sloping banks covered with low trees and bushes and tendrils of
+creeping ivy. It finds birth, this merry, roaring brook, in a dark,
+mysterious, shadowy pool, overhung by wild fantastic masses of rock,
+which loses itself far back in a dim cavern beneath the cliffs. Black
+and motionless, sullen and inscrutable, it lies, this source of the
+river Sorgue, a very pool of Lethe, looking as though it knew it drew
+its sustenance from the deepest heart of the earth, held communication
+with the hidden powers of Nature, and was one at the core with all the
+mighty waters of the creation. What a type of the poet's own
+genius--nourished deep down under the ground in the universal soul of
+humanity, fed by the elements that centuries of solution have infused
+into the hidden springs of the intellect, one in thought with all the
+great minds that have watered the arid fields of lower human
+intelligence, profound, unsearchable as the earth itself! And yet when
+it rises to the surface of the world it becomes only a sunny, murmuring
+river, which dances along among green banks and bushes; and, being
+noticed by the careless passer-by, who cannot see the deep infinity of
+waters of which it is the symbol, and knows not even whether they exist,
+is termed "a pretty stream of thought and fancy, but one that hath no
+profundity nor seriousness."
+
+Across the river, on a hill just above its banks, a mass of tawny ruin
+fades away into the blue of the sky and the gray of the cliffs. Wild
+flowers grow all about it, dark brambles stretch their wanton arms over
+all its space, and through the clefts in its jagged surface gleam the
+shining walls of the village below and the hazy brightness of the wide
+Rhone country. The people call this bit of rare coloring the castle of
+"La Belle Laure," but we know that it was the home of a great cardinal,
+Petrarch's trusty friend and generous patron.
+
+Down in the valley among the white village walls nestles a low brown
+house surrounded by a humble, sweet-smelling space of flowers. It is a
+dainty little spot of earth, this garden, hallowed by such rare
+associations. It is more precious than rubies, this small dark house,
+for it sheltered from the outer world the body and soul of Petrarch. The
+garden is enclosed by a hedge of sweet pale Provence roses and buds. I
+remembered, as I stood there with the breath of the beautiful blossoms
+creeping up about me, how Petrarch tells that walking one bright May day
+with Laura, a friend and confidant of both approached them and gave to
+each a rose, "all fresh and culled in Paradise," and said, "Such
+another pair of lovers the sun ne'er shone upon," and left them with a
+smile; and they remained all confused and trembling. Yes, I knew
+instinctively that it was here, on this very consecrated spot, that the
+sacred meeting had taken place; that he who gave the roses was no other
+than the good cardinal of the castle; and that those roses of five
+hundred years ago were the ancestors of the roses now blooming about me,
+and plucked from this very hedge. No wonder that the perfumes of
+Paradise are enchaliced in their hearts. Few flowers can boast such high
+and haughty lineage as these, the bright posterity of those transfigured
+love-tokens of centuries past. They are glorified for ever by
+association with the highest, purest phase of human relation. They have
+reached the apotheosis of flowerhood--the highest destiny vouchsafed to
+aught that grows. They have become one with thought in immortality.
+
+In the heart of the little garden stands a laurel tree, a shoot from
+Petrarch's own sacred laurel tree. More young shoots and saplings are
+springing up about it, all issuing from the great root that lies deep
+underground--the root of five hundred years ago; and the tree
+overshadows all the garden and the little crystal brook that sparkles
+along by the side of the wall. As I gazed at the stately shape, with its
+shining black berries and its glossy dark leaves, I knew that I had
+found the keynote to much of Petrarch's music--not always that of his
+best and most inspired moods. The resemblance of the name of Laura to
+the _laurel_; the antique fable of the transformation of Daphne into a
+laurel, and its adoption by Apollo as his emblem; the old superstition
+that the laurel was shielded against thunderbolts; his desire to win the
+laurel crown as the guerdon of his pains, both amorous and poetic,--were
+chains of tradition and convention which Petrarch had not strength to
+break, pompous, meaningless hieroglyphics which he felt it his duty to
+interpret to men, hinderances and trammels to the development of his
+genius. The laurel tree of Petrarch's garden is a fair type of one
+phase of the poet's own speech, prone to derive its significance from
+extraneous sources and overloaded with borrowed metaphor. But the laurel
+receives a new meaning if we picture to ourselves Madonna Laura
+reclining in its shadow on the banks of the little river, with flowers
+scattered all about her garments and little Loves disporting in the air
+about her wreathed head. Then it becomes instinct with life and
+vitality, and we wonder why Petrarch deemed it needful to resort to the
+dead and withered husks of antique fable for what lay there at his own
+cottage-door, and waited but to be lifted from the sod--a wealth of
+poetic illustration and conceit.
+
+Since the day when I made the memory of the Vaucluse my own, I have read
+how a great festival was held there in the summer-tide in honor of
+Petrarch. I have read how they came, those intellectual debauchees, and
+rioted and revelled and wrangled and jarred, and poisoned the chaste,
+calm waters of the sacred river with the hot fumes of literary
+dissension and argument. I have read how they came, with their heads
+full of quotations and their notebooks full of impressions and hints for
+effective rhapsody--how they feasted on the silver trout of the Sorgue,
+and gathered Laura's roses to adorn their buttonholes, and stripped the
+consecrated laurel of its leaves to make garlands for their own dull
+heads, and poured forth international compliments, and glorified one
+another, and hugged themselves for delight at their fine comprehension
+of the poet, and fell on their knees before him, and immolated their
+individual hearts and souls at the shrine of his genius; and, lo! there
+was not a true appreciater of Petrarch among them all! The right
+appraiser of Petrarch has been there before and since, but he was not
+there then. The noise and the bustle and the wisdom of the multitude
+held him aloof, and he waited until a more convenient season. He comes
+by preference in the spring-time, knowing that then Nature and Petrarch
+sing in unison. He is a poet, because it takes a poet to understand a
+poet, no less than a hero a hero. He is of such simple, foolish mould
+that when he thinks there is no one near to spy him out he casts himself
+down upon the sod and kisses it with all tenderness, and caresses the
+daisies with his finger-tips, greeting them as his younger brethren; for
+there is something stirring in him which draws him nearer to earth's
+heart than other men, and he loves to dwell upon his common origin with
+flower and leaf. He does not fall down and worship Petrarch, because he
+knows that Petrarch is only one expression of the great power that lives
+behind all thought and speech--one part of the great whole that lies
+spread out before him on the river and the cliff. But he takes the old
+poet by the hand and looks straight into his eyes, and reads there what
+is written in his own heart, and says, "We twain are brethren and
+friends, sovereign and equal, for evermore."
+
+If Petrarch had lived earlier in the centuries of Christianity, he would
+have been a monk. His genius would have found expression in the
+cloister-life, for the first monks were poets and philosophers. But he
+lived at a period when that beautiful principle of asceticism was no
+longer at one with genius. The fine essence of spirituality was gone
+from it, and it had hardened into senseless form and matter; and the law
+of his own mind forbade his pledging himself irrevocably to what in one
+mood seemed highest and most precious, but what another mood might
+contradict and openly defy. He knew that, although that ascetic temper
+which took possession of his soul at times when his genius was loudest,
+most clamorous, most importunate, was the basis of all monastic
+principle, he might not imprison it, fleeting, evanescent, within the
+dungeons of vows and formalism. And to-day, no less than in Petrarch's
+time, the same spirit walks the earth, shines through the actions and
+speech of all high souls, and yet refuses to bind itself to dull
+external shows and symbols.
+
+If Petrarch had not withdrawn himself to the solitude of the Vaucluse, I
+doubt if we should know more of his passion for Laura to-day than could
+be told in a score of sonnets. For with his mind overloaded by the
+sights and sounds and honors that were heaped upon him, he never could
+have separated her from the contingent circumstances that surrounded
+their intercourse in Avignon. But there, on the banks of the Sorgue, he
+viewed her image from afar, dismissed all the attendant episodes of
+palace and revel, court and council, and beheld only the ideal--or
+rather the real--Laura in her own worth and significance. Surely, never
+was there verse through which showed so plainly the Nature under whose
+auspices it was brought forth as those songs of Petrarch. I seem to feel
+that they were written in solitude, not sublime, but pleasing, and in a
+narrow valley shut out from contemplation of aught else. And I know, as
+I leave the Vaucluse behind me, how deep a hold the memory of the loved
+fountain must needs have taken upon the poet's mind, for I too have made
+me a picture of a river, and a grotto, and a shadowy pool, and a low
+brown house, and a stately laurel tree, which will always live in my
+sense. And these things resolve themselves into one with a few scattered
+sonnets, and a shadowy gold-haired form, and a handful of sweet small
+roses, and, lo! I have made incarnate and have bound fast to me for ever
+that beautiful old-time idyl of the Vaucluse.
+
+CHARLOTTE ADAMS.
+
+
+
+
+A "TARTAR FIGHT" AT KAZAN, AND HOW IT WAS STOPPED.
+
+
+Rooshia? Why, yes, I ought to know something about Rooshia, seein' I've
+lived there, off and on, this fifteen year and more; and if a young man
+was to come to me and ax me where's the best place for a workin' man to
+git on, I'd say to him, jist as I says it to you now, "Go to Rooshia!"
+Why so? says you. Well, jist this way. You see, cotton-mills and
+mowin'-machines and steam-ploughs and sich are quite new ideas out
+there; and they haven't got the trick of workin' 'em properly, not yet;
+so that any man as _has_ got it is pretty safe to git anything he likes
+to ax in the way o' wages. Why, _I_ knowed a man once--common
+factory-hand he was when he started: couldn't read nor write, nor
+nothin'; but he had his wits about him, all the same,--well, _he_ cum
+out here 'bout ten year ago, and went to some place on the Volga, with
+some crack-jaw name or other that I can't reck'lect. First year he was
+there he got as good pay as any overseer at home; next year he was
+overseer himself; two year arter that he owned his own mill, he did; and
+now, jist t'other day I gits a letter from him to say he's goin' home
+ag'in, with money in both pockets, and a-goin' to buy a big house and a
+bit o' ground, and I don't know what all. And if _that_ ain't gittin'
+on, I should jist like to know what is!
+
+But you mustn't think, neither, as it's all jist as easy as supping
+porridge: it ain't that, nohow. I can tell yer, if you was to go into
+one o' them hot work-rooms on a roastin' day in July, with the
+thermometer anywhere you like above a hundred, you'd feel more like
+lyin' down in the shade and havin' a drink o' beer than workin' hard for
+nine or ten hours on end. They say we overseers have an easy life of it.
+I wish them as says so had jist got to try it themselves for a day or
+two. Then, ag'in, most likely there's only one road from your place to
+the nearest town, and jist when you want to send off your stuff it'll
+come on pourin' rain for ever so long, and the whole road'll be nothin'
+but plash and mash, like a dish of cabbage-soup; and there the stuff'll
+have to lie idle for weeks and weeks, and you've jist got to grin and
+bear it. And in them parts, instead of one good pelt and have done with
+it, it keeps on drip, drip, drip, for days and days in a sneaking
+half-and-half kind o' way, as if it hadn't the pluck to come out with a
+good hearty pour. The very thunder don't make a good round-mouthed peal
+like it does at home, but a nasty jabberin' row, jist as if it was
+a-tryin' to talk French. And, altogether, it is a place to try a chap's
+temper: it is, indeed.
+
+Are the native workmen good for much? says you. Well, that depends
+pretty much on how you look at it. When you've once shown 'em how to do
+a thing, they'll do it every bit as well as yourself; but they take a
+powerful deal o' showin', they do. You see, a Rooshan has his own way of
+doin' everything, and tryin' to teach him any other way is as bad as
+eating soup with a one-pronged fork. And then to see how thick some on
+'em are! Why, they may well be brave in battle, for it 'ud take a
+precious clever bullet to git through one of _their_ 'eads, it would.
+Here's one sample for yer: A friend o' mine in Mosker had got a Rooshan
+servant--one o' them reg'lar _Derevenskis_ ("villagers"), and so one day
+he sends him to the shop with two o' them twenty-kopeck pieces,[30]
+tellin' him to buy bread with one and butter with t'other. Off goes the
+chap, and never comes back ag'in; so at last his master goes to see
+what's up; and there he finds Mr. Ivan at the door of the shop, holdin'
+out the money in one hand and scratchin' his head with t'other, as if
+he'd forgot his own name, and couldn't find hisself nowhow. "Oh,
+_barin_" ("master"), says he in a voice like a fit o' chollerer,
+"whatever am I to do now? I've been and _mixed_ the two pieces, and now
+I don't know which was the one for the bread and which for the butter."
+
+As for the Tartars, _they're_ troublesome in another way. They make
+prime workmen--there's no denyin' it; and I had ought to know, seein' I
+was over a gang of 'em myself for more'n a year--but they're the
+hot-bloodedest lot as ever I saw yet, and reg'lar born imps for
+fightin'; and when _they_ git up a shindy, look out! I can speak, for I
+saw the big fight betwixt them and the Rooshans at Kazan 'bout three
+year ago; and if you cares to hear the story, I'll tell yer jist how it
+all happened.
+
+You tell me as you've been to Kazan, and so, o' course, you'll remember
+that the "Tartar Town," as they calls it, lies a mile or two east o' the
+reg'lar Rooshan quarter; and midway between 'em's a dry gully
+(leastways, it's dry in the summer-time, but you should jist see it
+arter the spring thaw!), with a little bridge over it. Now, the Rooshan
+gangs and the Tartar gangs, a-comin' from their work, used to cross each
+other jist at this bridge; and o' course there was a good deal o'
+chaffin' among 'em, and some fightin', too, now and then; for I needn't
+tell _you_ that a Rooshan and a Tartar are jist about as fond of each
+other as a Rooshan and a Turk. Now-a-days, the masters have had the
+gumption to change the hours of work, and keep 'em out of each other's
+way; but in _my_ time there was a scrimmage nearly every week, though
+nothin' like this 'un I'm tellin' of.
+
+Well, sir, I'd knocked off early that evenin', and strolled back to my
+place with a young Rooshan merchant as I knowed--a right good feller,
+name o' Michael Feodoroff. Just at the bridge we stopped to have a look
+at the sunset; and a rare sight it was! There was the dark-red tower of
+the old Tartar gateway standin' out ag'in the bright evenin' sky, and
+the citadel-wall with all its turrets and battlements, and the gilt
+cupolers o' the churches in the town, and the great green plain of the
+Volga away below us, and the broad river itself a-shinin' wherever the
+light fell on it, and the purple hills beyond tipped with gold every
+here and there, jist like them Delectable Mountains as mother used to
+read about on Sundays when I was a boy.
+
+While we were standin' lookin' at it up comes half a dozen Rooshan
+workmen, a-goin' home from their work, and four or five Tartars from
+t'other side, a-goin' home from _theirn_; and they meets jist on the
+bridge. As they crossed each other one o' the Rooshans pulls a bit o'
+sassage out of his pocket and holds it up to the foremost Tartar (a
+great ugly-lookin' bruiser with one eye), and says to him, chaffin'
+like, "Hollo, Mourad! d'ye want a bit o' grease to make yer beard grow?"
+
+Now, I needn't tell _you_ that offerin' pork to a Mussulman is like
+drinkin' Dutch William's health at an Irish fair; and the words warn't
+well out o' the Rooshan's mouth afore the Tartar had him by the throat
+and was bangin' his head ag'in' the bridge-rails as if he was drivin' a
+nail with it.
+
+Then, all in one minute, a whole crowd of 'em seemed to start up out o'
+the werry earth, and we found ourselves right in the middle of a reg'lar
+tearin' fight--tossin' arms and fierce faces whirlin' all round us; men
+strikin' and grapplin' and clawin' like fury; the broad, bearded faces
+of the Rooshans and the flat sallow mugs of the Tartars all blurred up
+together; and sich a yellin' and cursin' and screechin' a-goin' on that
+I a'most thought myself one o' them old Roman hemperors a-lookin' on at
+a wild-beast fight in the Call-and-see-'em.
+
+I was so took aback that I jist stood and stared like a fool; but
+Feodoroff had his wits about him, and dragged me into a corner where we
+could see it all without bein' swep' in. I saw d'reckly that it was more
+than a plain bout o' fisticuffs, for several of the Rooshans had got out
+their knives, and were slashin' about like one o'clock; and the Tartars,
+on their side, had begun to tear out the rails o' the palisade and to
+crack the skulls of the Rooshans with them. Just then Ivan Martchenkoff,
+one o' my best men, came tumblin' down at my feet with half a dozen
+Tartars atop of him; and as he fell he caught sight of me, and cried to
+me for help.
+
+Well, _that_ was more'n I could stand. I busted loose from Feodoroff
+(who tried to hold me), and leapt right among 'em. I cotched the
+uppermost Tartar by the scruff o' the neck, and chucked him away like a
+kitten; and the second I hit sich a dollop behind the ear as made him
+look five ways at once; but just then two o' the rips jumped upon me
+from behind, and down I went. Then Feodoroff flew in to save me, but the
+crowd closed upon him, and down _he_ went too; and I thought 'twas all
+up with us both.
+
+Jist then I heerd a rumble of wheels up the slope leadin' to the bridge,
+and then a great shout of "_Soldati! soldati!_" ("The soldiers! the
+soldiers!").
+
+Then I lay close to the ground and made myself as small as I could, for
+I knowed that if they fired into sich a crowd with cannon it 'ud just
+mow 'em down like grass. The next minute I heerd an orficer's voice
+singin' out, "Halt! front! fire!" But instead of the bang of a cannon
+there cum a hiss like fifty tea-kettles a-bilin' over, and then a great
+splash, and the crowd scattered fifty ways at once; and I found myself
+wringin' wet all in a minute. Then somebody gripped hold o' me and
+pulled me up, and there was Feodoroff, and beside him Lieutenant
+Berezinski of the garrison laughin' fit to burst. And when I looked
+round the whole place was a puddle o' water, with dozens of men rollin'
+in it like flies in treacle; and at the end of the bridge was ten or
+twelve sogers, and right in front of 'em a great steam _fire-engine_!
+Then I understood it all, and began laughin' as loud as anybody.
+
+"You've cooled their courage this time, Mr. Lieutenant," says I.
+
+"I think I have," says the lieutenant; "and that, too, without wasting a
+cartridge or killing a man. When you go home to England, Yakov
+Ivanovitch (James son of John), you can say that if you haven't stood
+fire, you've stood water, and been at the battle of Voyevoda."[31]
+
+DAVID KER.
+
+
+
+
+OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.
+
+
+THE COLORED CREOLES OF BALTIMORE.
+
+It is well known that many French families, fugitives from St. Domingo,
+took refuge in Baltimore during the last decade of the eighteenth
+century. They gracefully and gratefully accepted favors and kindness of
+various kinds, but they were too proud and self-reliant to resign
+themselves to eat the bread of charity or lead lives of indolence. Some,
+born to fortune and ancient titles, employed their talents and
+accomplishments promptly and without hesitation. Counts and marquises
+became gardeners (introducing a great variety of fruits and vegetables
+unknown before in the United States), dancing-masters, music-teachers,
+drawing-masters, architects, chemists, confectioners, cigar-makers and
+teachers of their own beautiful language. The names of many of those
+_emigres_ are now borne by the most estimable citizens of the community
+which first sheltered their ancestors: they are ornaments of society,
+distinguished in the professions and skilled in the arts and sciences.
+
+But it is not of this high and noble class that I desired to speak: it
+is of a more humble but not less worthy set of French people who came
+here at the same time. I allude to the colored creoles who were the born
+slaves of these ladies and gentlemen. Some shared the dangers of their
+flight from St. Domingo: others found a way, by tedious voyages, to join
+their old masters and tender their services, not as slaves, but as
+honest, humble, faithful servants. It was honorable both to master and
+slave that such cordial relations should have existed under such trying
+circumstances. Some of the creoles were good cooks, bakers,
+snuff-makers, laundry-women, etc.; and the most beautiful and touching
+part of this relation between the master and their former slaves was
+that hundreds of the latter laid the profits of their labor at the feet
+of their white friends with reverence and devotion. Many old ladies and
+gentlemen, accustomed to every attention from the best trained servants,
+were altogether incapable of helping themselves, and were dependent on
+the bounty and tender care of their former slaves. Most of the better
+class of French _emigres_ retained all their former habits of domestic
+life, such as taking a cup of coffee before rising in the morning and an
+eleven-o'clock _dejeuner a la fourchette_, while those who could afford
+it had a modest _petit souper_ at nine o'clock in the evening. At the
+latter were often found the elite of this French society. Music, dancing
+and refined conversation were indulged in for two or three hours: old
+memories and stirring events were recalled and the bonds of nationality
+and family affection were more closely knit. French only was spoken at
+these soirees, and the elegant manners of the old school were observed
+in perfection.
+
+The most remarkable of this set was a Madame Valanbrun, the widow of a
+gentleman of large fortune and high position in St. Domingo. He died
+before the Revolution. She was only twenty-five when the massacre took
+place, beautiful, accomplished and fascinating. Her estates were
+extensive, and she lived in one of the principal cities of the island.
+At the time of the outbreak she escaped to a Baltimore vessel,
+accompanied by several of her house-servants, and saved a part of her
+fortune--plate, jewels and some gold coin. Arriving in Baltimore, she
+found several of her friends already there. With the elastic temper
+peculiar to the French, she determined to make the best of her changed
+circumstances. Having purchased a large house in a cheap part of the
+city, she fitted up her own suite of rooms on the second floor. Here she
+received company, and was attended by her servants as if she had been a
+queen. At that period snuff-taking was very fashionable and almost
+universal. Some of madame's servants were very expert in making snuff,
+cigars and cigarettes: these articles they sold at high prices, for they
+soon became well known. Others of her servants made confections, cakes,
+sweetmeats, which they carried around in baskets: some made dresses, and
+others went out as nurses. The arrangements for all these various
+employments were made by the servants themselves, but the profits were
+carefully reserved for the queen bee of the hive.
+
+For many years Madame Valanbrun was the centre of the French society of
+Baltimore. She had few acquaintances outside of this circle, but the
+most distinguished foreigners who visited the city--French, Spanish and
+Italian--and several young Americans ambitious to become better
+acquainted with the French language, were glad to have the entree of her
+salon.
+
+Time wore on. The Bourbons were restored to the throne, and many French
+families returned to France to seek their lost fortunes. Some were
+successful, but most of them were doomed to disappointment and continued
+poverty. Madame Valanbrun remained contented with her humble but
+comfortable lot. By degrees her corps of servants was reduced by death,
+a new race of competitors sprang up, and her income each year grew less
+and less.
+
+In 1832, when the Asiatic cholera fell upon Baltimore like an Alpine
+avalanche upon a quiet Italian village, the colored creoles suffered
+more, relatively, than any other portion of the population, probably
+because they lived in the more confined streets in the centre of the
+city. The venerable physician who furnished most of the particulars for
+this sketch said: "I was passing through a narrow and rather dirty
+street one day during the height of the cholera, when I met Dr. B----,
+who asked me whether I did not know Madame Valanbrun: if so, would I go
+with him to see her in one of the houses near? He had been there a few
+hours before, and thought she had a severe attack of cholera. We went,
+and found the venerable old lady _in articulo mortis_. She was much
+changed, and the surroundings indicated an equally great change in her
+circumstances which it was melancholy to witness. But one feature
+redeemed all that was disgusting in the picture: round the squalid bed
+five or six old negroes, men and women, knelt in deep devotion like
+fixed statues, offering up their prayers to the Throne of grace for the
+departing soul of their beloved mistress, whose life had been so
+chequered by the sunshine of pleasure and the clouds of adversity. She
+had just received the last rites of the Church. The priest had retired
+to perform similar duties elsewhere, leaving the humble but devoted
+blacks to watch the last breath of life and to close the eyes of their
+lifelong friend and mistress. I never felt more veneration at the
+deathbed of any of my own kindred, or deeper respect for mourners than I
+then felt for those faithful servants of Madame Valanbrun. The old lady
+died that evening. She devised the small remnant of her property to be
+divided among her old servants in common.
+
+"Among these colored Creoles were some remarkable women. Well do I
+remember Suzette, Fanny, Clementine, as faithful watchers at sick beds:
+many precious lives did they save by their skill, judgment and fidelity.
+They were not _eye_-servants, working for money only: they worked from
+the purest motives of benevolence, from the sentiment of Christian
+charity.
+
+"Another instance of fidelity came under my notice when I was a student
+of medicine in 1819. I boarded at a good old Frenchman's, whose few
+domestics were French creoles. One of these was the washerwoman. When
+quite young she had left St. Domingo with her old mistress, who had been
+kind to her in the days of prosperity on the island. The old lady
+managed to save a small portion of her wealth, and lived quietly with
+her former servant, now her faithful friend. Madame Curchon, as she grew
+older, required more comforts than her slender means could afford, and
+Lizette determined to take in washing. She soon obtained as much as she
+could attend to, and spent her earnings in making madame comfortable in
+her old age.
+
+"About this time appeared a fine-looking negro sailor from St. Domingo.
+He had heard that Lizette, his former sweetheart, was alone in
+Baltimore, and he came in search of her. He found her. She welcomed him
+joyously, with her affection for him unchanged. He told her he would
+marry her at once and take her back to the West Indies. Lizette
+explained to her lover that she considered herself bound in honor to her
+old mistress, though no longer her slave, adding that if he would give
+her five hundred dollars to leave with Madame Curchon her conscience
+would be free of all charge of ingratitude, and she would follow him to
+any part of the world. He said he would not pay a dollar for her, as she
+was a free woman and had worked for the old lady long enough.
+
+"This little love-story came to the knowledge of the boarders through
+our kind-hearted landlady, and they agreed to subscribe one hundred
+dollars toward the payment of the amount fixed on by Lizette: the old
+mistress knew nothing of this romance in low life. Some weeks passed:
+the man remained stubborn in his idea of right, and she in her
+conscientious sense of what was due to her dear old mistress. Lizette
+positively refused to abandon madame to an old age of poverty. Her lover
+finally returned to the West Indies without her. Whatever disappointment
+the faithful creole may have suffered, she remained true to her trust,
+and was for many years the comfort and companion of this poor old French
+lady."
+
+Another instance of creole gratitude and fidelity is worth recording. A
+lady who had enjoyed wealth and luxury at home escaped the massacre, but
+arrived in America entirely destitute. Her feeble health required
+constant care and delicate food. She was accompanied in her flight by
+her faithful servant Fanny, who devoted herself to the care and comfort
+of her former mistress. Fanny rented a small brick house containing five
+rooms--two chambers, two rooms below and a kitchen. In the upper rooms
+she made her dear old godmother as comfortable as any lady could be, and
+when her duties called her elsewhere she placed another in attendance
+there. The constant piety of this excellent creole was an edifying
+sight. Fanny still lives, but her dear friend is no more: she believes
+firmly that they will again be united, to part no more.
+
+One fact connected with these colored Creoles is worthy of mention.
+Although they have been living in this country for more than
+three-quarters of a century, they have never united themselves, as
+social beings, with any of our American negroes. They have treated them
+with kindness and politeness, helped them in poverty and visited them in
+sickness, but have never intermarried with them, never gone to their
+churches, never joined any of the various African societies so
+conspicuous on certain days of parade. Distinguished for their honesty,
+they have seldom appeared in the courts either as plaintiffs or
+defendants. Respected by all, they have never demanded social equality.
+
+Scarcely a dozen of the colored creoles who originally emigrated from
+St. Domingo are now alive, but their descendants are numerous. They form
+a very worthy part of the community in which they live. They retain many
+of the traditionary qualities of their ancestors, and among the
+shiftless, dependent and often destitute negroes around them they are
+conspicuous for their industry, integrity and morality.
+
+  E.L.D.
+
+
+GLIMPSES OF BRUSSELS.
+
+To leave Paris for Brussels is to exchange excitement for tranquillity,
+a crowd for a few, the oppressive newness and vivacity of to-day for a
+mild animation tempered with a flavor of bygone ages. Brussels has been
+called a miniature Paris. I should rather consider her as the younger
+sister of the great city--less beautiful, less decked out, less
+accomplished, less versed in the ways of the world, yet keeping a
+certain freshness and virginity of aspect that is lacking in her more
+brilliant elder.
+
+There is one thing that a foreign resident of Paris is apt to find very
+enjoyable in Brussels, and that is the absence of the eternal crowd
+that mars for many people a full enjoyment of the pleasant places of
+Paris. Her thronging millions overwhelm you on every festive day or
+joyous occasion. Any little outside show or attraction calls together in
+some restricted space the population of a small city. Thirty thousand
+people rushed to hear the Spanish students play on the guitar in the
+garden of the Tuileries. Twenty thousand go every Sunday to the Salon
+during the period that it remains open. One hundred thousand go out to
+the races on ordinary days, and twice that number attend the Grand Prix.
+Hence comes a famine of conveyances and of seats, and a plethora of
+companions that are far from being uniformly agreeable.
+
+In Brussels one has enough of human surroundings. There is no lack of
+companionship in her gardens, her galleries, her streets and her parks.
+She is not a solitude, as are some of the dead cities of Italy and
+Germany or some of the minor provincial towns in Belgium and France. The
+influence of her three hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants is very
+comfortably apparent. But where Paris pours forth her tens of thousands,
+Brussels sends out some hundreds. Hence there is always room and to
+spare. And she is well-to-do in the world, is this pretty capital of
+Belgium. She is growing and thriving, and wears every mark of an active
+and contented prosperity. New and handsome streets meet the view on
+every side. Foremost among these is the elegant Avenue Louise, named
+after the late queen of the Belgians, which leads out to the spacious
+and lovely Bois de la Cambre, a second Bois de Boulogne, omitting the
+traces of the siege. The Avenue Louise reminds me very much of South
+Broad street in Philadelphia. It forms an almost unbroken row of elegant
+private residences, extending for full two miles to the very gate of the
+Bois. The centre of the roadway is macadamized and bordered with rows of
+trees, thus forming a charming road to the Bois for the private
+carriages of the Belgian aristocracy.
+
+The royal family of Belgium appear but little in public. A series of
+family misfortunes, combined with the ill-health of the king, has
+induced them to live in comparative retirement. Of the children of the
+late king Leopold, but three survive, the present king, the Count de
+Flandres and the luckless empress Charlotte. The last, still sunk in a
+state of hopeless insanity, inhabits the Chateau de Tervueren. The king,
+with his wife and family, passes most of his time at the Chateau de
+Laeken. He is a great sufferer from a disease which has attacked one of
+his legs. The queen, an Austrian archduchess, was formerly one of the
+most beautiful princesses of Europe, but she has never regained either
+her health or her spirits since the death of her only son some years
+ago, and looks faded and careworn. On the king's death the crown will
+pass to his only brother, the Count de Flandres. This gentleman, whose
+wife, a beautiful and spirited lady, is a princess of the house of
+Hohenzollern, is as deaf as a post. He inhabits a very handsome palace
+in the heart of Brussels, and his own sleeping apartments are on the
+ground floor. One summer night the sentinel in charge was amazed to see
+a crowd gathered in front of the windows of the count's room, and
+evidently highly amused. On approaching it was discovered that the
+attendants had failed to close the outside shutters, and had drawn the
+lace curtains merely. The room was brilliantly lighted, and of course
+every part of it was distinctly visible from without. And there,
+
+    Dans le simple appareil
+    D'une beaute qu'on vient d'arracher au sommeil,
+
+the heir to the Belgian throne was peacefully walking to and fro in a
+brown study, unconscious that the eyes of some hundreds of his future
+subjects were fixed upon his lightly-draped form. His deafness prevented
+him from hearing the noise outside the window, and rendered all warnings
+by means of sounds ineffectual. So the prince's chamberlain was aroused,
+and after some delay His Royal Highness was released from his very
+undignified position.
+
+Among the proprietors of the new buildings of Brussels is cited the
+empress Eugenie. Whole rows of newly-erected and handsome shops were
+pointed out to me as being her property. A very strong sympathy for the
+dethroned imperial family seemed to be prevalent in Brussels, as well as
+an equally strong dislike to the Germans. I was amused to find that two
+animals in the Zoological Garden, a very cross monkey and a
+savage-looking African boar, both bore the name of Bismarck.
+
+This Zoological Garden, by the by, is unworthy of the beautiful city to
+which it belongs. It is small, shabby and ill-kept, contains very few
+animals, and has become a sort of beer-garden, with open-air concerts
+and a skating-rink for its chief attractions. A very large and beautiful
+aquarium, a vast grotto of artificial rock-work, is really worth seeing,
+but its contents are of the most commonplace kind.
+
+The picture-gallery--or Musee Royal, as it is called--has recently been
+rearranged, and the modern paintings that used to be on view in the ducal
+palace are now installed in a series of new and beautifully-decorated
+rooms. Thither have also been removed a number of pictures by contemporary
+Belgian painters that used to adorn the public buildings of Brussels.
+Chief among these is Gallait's noble picture of the _Abdication of Charles
+V_. This fine work, considered by some critics as the masterpiece of the
+great Belgian artist, is worthy of the pencil of Delaroche. Nor is it in
+style unlike the best productions of that master, recalling the _Death of
+Elizabeth_ by its admirable grouping and refinement of color.
+Verboeckhoven is seen here at his best, his _Flock of Sheep in a Storm_, a
+large and carefully-finished work, being replete with all the most
+striking characteristics of his genius. Madou's _Interrupted Ball_ is a
+brilliant and vivacious representation of a village festival troubled by
+the intrusion of a group of dandies of the Directory--gay Incroyables who
+chuck the country damsels under the chin, rouse their swains to jealous
+wrath and otherwise misconduct themselves. Rohbe's pictures of still life
+are perfect feasts of coloring, warm, rich and glowing as the heart of a
+crimson rose brimming with the sunshine and sweetness of a summer's day.
+
+The Musee itself is a noble building, and in point of arrangement and of
+decoration forms a contrast to the dreary halls of the Luxembourg. The
+gallery devoted to the old masters contains some valuable specimens of
+early Flemish art, and some extremely interesting historical portraits,
+the gem of the collection being a wonderfully fine portrait by Holbein
+of Sir Thomas More.
+
+But the most interesting point in all Brussels is the Hotel de Ville.
+That marvellous edifice, that looks as though it ought to be preserved
+in a velvet-lined case, so delicate and elaborate are its multitudinous
+sculptures, lifts the exquisite tracery of its spire against the summer
+sky, as perfect in its beauty as when Alva and Egmont and Orange passed
+beneath its shadow ages ago. No spot in Europe, save perhaps the Tower
+of London, is more haunted by historic memories than is this perfect
+marvel of architectural beauty. The centuries roll back as we stand
+beneath its shadow. There is a stain of blood upon the stones, and
+Philip of Spain rides by, and the duke of Alva comes through yonder
+doorway, and the air is full of thronging phantoms and of cries--the
+wail of the Netherlands beneath the sword of the oppressor.
+
+Around the Hotel de Ville are grouped a series of antique buildings, the
+one more exquisite than the other--the ancient halls of the corporations
+of Brussels, among which that of the brewers shows supreme by reason of
+the luxury of its carvings and the care wherewith its beauty and
+solidity have been maintained throughout the centuries. In one of the
+simplest houses of the square Victor Hugo first took refuge after the
+great catastrophe of the _coup d'etat_. It bore the number 27. A
+tobacco-shop occupied the ground floor. The poet's parlor was furnished
+in a style of bald simplicity, with chairs and a sofa covered with black
+haircloth. But he was wont to say, pointing to the Hotel de Ville, "I
+have the most wonderful piece of carving in the world for a sideboard."
+In this modest abode he wrote _Napoleon le Petit_. Then, stirred by the
+historic memories around him, he chose the Inquisition itself for a
+subject, and planned his as yet unpublished tragedy of _Torquemada_. The
+dwelling in the Grande Place became the haunt of all the proscribed
+republicans of France. Yet Belgium gave them but a cold welcome and
+grudging hospitality. They were subjected to a series of humiliating
+formalities, chief among which was the requirement of the authorities
+that each should provide himself with a permit of residence. These
+permits were temporary and revocable, and their holders were obliged to
+go weekly to ask for their renewal at the central police-office. It is
+not surprising, therefore, that so few of the fugitives should have
+remained in Belgium. Seven thousand took refuge there after the coup
+d'etat, but only two hundred and fifty took up their abode on Belgian
+soil. Yet Brussels remained, in some sense, the continental
+head-quarters of Victor Hugo, though never kindly or generous in her
+treatment of the great exile. In 1871, the rumor having gone abroad that
+he had offered shelter to some of the fugitive Communists, his house was
+attacked by an armed mob, and its inmates barely escaped with their
+lives.
+
+Brussels possesses among her other sights a curiosity with which she
+could very well dispense--namely, the Wiertz Gallery. It is a collection
+of horrors depicted on a colossal scale by a man whose powers of
+painting were scarcely equal to those of a respectable scene-painter. A
+series of nightmares, expressed with a sort of epileptic violence and
+without any artistic value, clothe the walls of the immense studio with
+gigantic abominations. There is neither originality of conception nor
+intelligence of execution to redeem their hideousness: their horror is
+of the simplest bugaboo kind. A man blowing his head to pieces with a
+pistol-shot; a supposed corpse coming to life in its coffin; the First
+Napoleon in the flames of hell, with a multitude of women shaking at
+him the bloody severed limbs of their sons and husbands; a child burned
+alive in its cradle; the head of a decapitated criminal, and the visions
+that filled its brain,--such are some of the ghastly imaginings of this
+diseased and uneducated nature. Compare such works as these with Dore's
+crudest conceptions, and the difference between the inventions of genius
+and those of a morbid intellect becomes at once apparent.
+
+  L.H.H.
+
+
+AN OFF YEAR.
+
+It is a great luxury to find ourselves and the country in the midst of
+what Marshal MacMahon might style a _quadrennate_, and to be at the
+neutral and central point from which a much-vexed people can look both
+ways for a Presidential election. The contest of two years ago is over,
+and that of two years hence not near enough to beget mentionable worry.
+This equator of partisanship, lying midway between the two polls, is a
+happy medium of repose. The trade-winds of party passion blow from both
+sides fiercely toward it, but fail to break its calm. The average
+American--even the average professional American politician--possesses
+his soul in patience. He looks forward to no revolution, and, when he
+thinks of the matter at all, is entirely certain that the night of the
+first Tuesday in November, 1880, will bring nothing more tremendous than
+the usual hubbub among the telegraph-operators, the reporters and the
+haunters of the clubs and leagues. He doubts the due abnormal succession
+of the Presidents as little as he does that of the British kings, and a
+great deal less than he does that of some of the continental monarchs,
+to say nothing of the French ruler, whose septennate happens also to be
+within about two years of its close.
+
+So pleasant it is to be at leisure to bestow attention on life, liberty
+and the pursuit of happiness, without thought of the usually engrossing
+machinery so painfully and minutely contrived for facilitating our
+advance to those ends! To forget the means and for once look at the
+object; to ignore the strife for free government, and be placidly and
+contentedly free; to shut our eyes on eternal vigilance, and realize
+that we have paid that price and have the receipt in our pockets; to
+intermit our nursing of the tree and enjoy the fruit; to feel that life
+in a republic is not necessarily and always "the fever called
+living,"--such is, for the present interval, our lot. Self-government is
+such very hard work that those engaged in it are entitled to occasional
+holidays. Nature demands it. Whether their stated Sabbath come once in
+four years or once in seven, it must come. No wonder that it is apt to
+prove too welcome and seductive, and that healthy relaxation should grow
+into harmful lethargy, Sunday into "Blue Monday." Examples of that
+result are abundant enough to warn us when we need warning. They have
+chromoed in brilliantly illuminated text, in all the languages and
+alphabets, the maxim about eternal vigilance, and hung it up over our
+council-fires and our domestic hearths. We can only venture, perhaps, to
+half close our eyes and view it sleepily as through cigar-smoke, or turn
+our backs upon it for a little while and go out into a world of other
+cares which takes no note of elections, constitutions, statutes or
+office-holding. The shorter the interval the less should our enjoyment
+of it be marred. Investigations into past elections serve only to
+interfere with it, or to assist the newspapers in interfering with it;
+and newspapers are our daily food or a part of it. Three-fourths of the
+reading-matter in the five or six thousand of them published in the
+Union are filled with politics, although the conductors of them, like
+the rest of us, are aware that politics are temporarily in eclipse. They
+can teach us nothing on that subject, and we want to learn nothing.
+Their occupation as trade-journals devoted to the art and science of
+government is gone. Other periodicals devoted to a specialty, whether
+iron, coal, calico or the Thirty-nine Articles, show judgment and
+compassion on their readers when a "slack" time comes by turning
+miscellaneous and slipping in choice literary tidbits among their
+regular "shop" items. The five thousand should do likewise. If they
+will not wholly exclude politics, they might at least sweep political
+news and disquisitions into a separate corner of the sheet--say among
+the jokes, base-ball accidents and last year's advertisements.
+
+Could our legislators and their chroniclers only convince themselves
+that they are _de trop_, that the best they can do just now is to assist
+us in cultivating a transitory oblivion of them and their deeds, and
+that, instead, they are depriving us of the refreshment of our forty
+winks, they would show a correct understanding of the situation. If they
+cannot be altogether silent, they might at least give their noise
+another pitch, and direct it into some humdrum monotone that would not
+jar upon our slumbers. Do their worst, however, they cannot take from us
+the delicious consciousness that it will be two years before another
+Presidential campaign. Panoplied in that reflection, we can stand a good
+deal.
+
+We sometimes think it must have been a vast relief to the Poles when
+partition came and the three powers for good and all put an end to their
+perpetually recurring agony of electing a king. To the masses of the
+people, who were serfs, and had no more the right of suffrage or any
+other attribute of liberty than their cattle, we have no doubt it was
+so. Only by the small minority of privileged and fussy nobles, who went
+armed to the hall of election, ready to silence effectually any
+troublesome minority-man who should undertake to defeat their choice
+with his veto, could the loss of the wonted excitement have been
+seriously felt. That it was a relief to the neighboring nations, whose
+peace was constantly compromised by the recurrence of Poland's stormy
+call for a new king, is certain enough. The change threw a few very
+worthy men out of business--the Kosciuskos, Pulaskis, Czartoriskis,
+etc.--but it did away with a much larger number who were standing
+nuisances, and it left the surplus energy of many more to seek more
+legitimate and profitable paths. Of course the fate of the Poles,
+prosperous though their country is beyond anything dreamed of in the
+days of its nominal independence, is not enviable to us. It were to be
+wished that they had been cured of the regular--or irregular--spasms of
+selecting a chief without losing their national autonomy. What we remark
+is, that the strain of that convulsion was greater than they or their
+neighbors could bear, and that all concerned, with the trifling
+exceptions named, must have breathed freer and deeper when it was put an
+end to.
+
+  E.C.B.
+
+
+CONJUGAL DISCORDS.
+
+The weaknesses and follies of woman are a theme on which men, from the
+sage to the clown, have at all times been eloquent. Her natural coquetry
+in dress, her maternal vanity, her devotion to the little elegancies of
+the home, to clean windows and fresh curtains, are inexhaustible sources
+of masculine merriment or abuse. What housekeeper ever complained of an
+aching back or of nervous irritation without being scolded by her "lord"
+for some extra work she had done in beautifying the home? Men never seem
+to learn that women, as a rule, cannot find life endurable in the
+atmosphere of dust and disorder which characterizes bachelor
+housekeeping, and which seldom disturbs the equanimity of the masculine
+mind in the least. Men and women are so different in their tastes and
+ways that there must always be discord and unhappiness in the household
+until the sexes give over trying to change or remodel those tastes and
+ways, and learn to respect them. Men must accept as inevitable the fact
+that women to be happy must have artistic, or at least dainty and cozy,
+environments; and women must learn to preserve their souls in quiet when
+men spill their tobacco and ashes over the carpets and tables, for
+probably no man ever lived who could fill a pipe, even from a wash-tub,
+without scattering the tobacco over the premises.
+
+That the sexes will give over trying to reform each other does not seem
+likely to happen very soon. Indeed, one might be pardoned for believing
+that matrimony is specially adapted to develop all the imperfections
+and meannesses of human character, and that even of those matches that
+are made in heaven the devil arranges all the subsequent conditions.
+There is hardly a pure and innocent delight that unmarried women enjoy
+which they can carry into that blissful world bounded by the
+marriage-ring. One of those delights is that of squandering a little
+money, which is merely the equivalent of man's spending it as he likes,
+without accounting to any one. Few wives can do this and not be
+subjected to the humiliation of hearing the husband say, "My dear, are
+you not a little extravagant? Is all that money gone that I gave you
+last week?"
+
+Men and women seem incapacitated, in the very nature of things, from
+understanding each other. While mutually enamored they meet as upon a
+bridge--a Bridge of Sighs perhaps: break this, and they are for ever
+separated as by an impassable gulf. Leaving aside entirely the enamored
+state, do men as a rule seek the society of women and prefer it to that
+of men? The thriving clubs, the billiard- and drinking-saloons, and the
+other resorts of men common all over the civilized world, seem very like
+a negative answer to the question. In savage life we know that the sexes
+do not hunt or fish or do any work together. In our modern drawing-rooms
+most men confess themselves "bored." They long to get away to their
+clubs or some other resort of their fellows. When husbands spend their
+evenings at home, if no one happens to call it is not common for them to
+enter into long and exhilarating conversations with their wives. To be
+sure, wives are too often ignorant of the subjects that interest
+intelligent men; still, not more ignorant than before marriage, when the
+one bridge upon which they could meet was unbroken. _Then_ conversation
+never flagged: it was ever new and entrancing. Both talked pure
+nonsense, while having the art of "kissing full sense into empty words."
+On the other hand, it is, I think, quite a defensible proposition,
+despite the inferences to the contrary drawn from the failure of the
+Women's Hotel, that women enjoy conversation with women more than with
+men when there is no possible question of gallantry or flirtation; and,
+finally, that the recognition of the fact that men and women are not by
+nature in sympathetic accord, but only attracted through the law of
+compensation or opposites, will do more than all other things combined
+to make them study each other's natures and to respect sexual biases and
+characteristics, the motive for that study being, of course, the
+consummation of the ideal marriage, where man and woman set themselves
+together "like perfect music unto noble words."
+
+  M.H.
+
+
+A RUSSIAN GENERAL IN CENTRAL ASIA.
+
+Afternoon in Tashkent, the burning sun of Central Asia glaring upon the
+dusty streets and countless mud-hovels of the great city; files of
+camels gliding past with their long, noiseless stride, led by gaunt
+brown men in blue robes and white turbans; a deep archway in a high wall
+of baked earth, above which appear the trees of a spacious garden, and
+just within the entrance two tall, wiry, black-eyed Cossacks, in flat
+forage-caps, soiled cotton jackets and red goatskin trousers, leaning
+indolently on their long Berdan rifles.
+
+At my approach, however, the two sentinels start up briskly enough--as
+well they may, for they are guarding one whom every man in Bokhara would
+give his best horse for a fair chance of murdering. My announcement that
+I am expected by the governor-general is received with evident suspicion
+and a crossing of bayonets to bar my way; but, happily, a passing
+aide-de-camp recognizes me and promptly leads me in.
+
+The clustering trees, through which the sunshine filters in a rich,
+subdued light suggestive of some great cathedral, are deliciously cool
+and shady after the blinding glare outside; but there is life enough in
+the scene, nevertheless. White-frocked soldiers are hurrying to and fro;
+laced jackets, shining epaulettes, clinking spurs and sabres meet us at
+every turn; and in the centre of all, under a huge spreading tree
+planted years before any Russian had set foot in Turkestan, sits a
+towering form whose vast proportions and bold swarthy face seem to dwarf
+every other figure in the group. Twelve years ago, General Kolpakovski
+was a private soldier in the Russian army: to-day he is the commander of
+thirty thousand men and absolute master of a territory as large as the
+States of New York and Pennsylvania together.
+
+"Fine fellow, isn't he?" says my conductor, looking admiringly at the
+stalwart form of his chief. "Did you ever hear of his ride across the
+steppes from here to Kouldja? He started with twelve Tartars, and you
+know what horsemen _they_ are. Well, three of them broke down the first
+day, five more the second, and all the rest on the third; and the
+general got in by himself. Ever since then the Tartars have called him
+'The Chief with the Iron Skin;' and the soldiers go about singing,
+
+    Kolpakovski molodetz--
+    Fsadnik Tatarski--glupetz!
+
+("Kolpakovski's a fine fellow: the Tartar horseman is a fool.")
+
+"Well done!"
+
+"Ay, and he did a better thing still two years ago. He was crossing the
+mountains with a Cossack squadron in the heat of summer. Presently up
+comes one fellow: 'Your Excellency, my horse is lame.'--'Go back,
+then.'--Another man, seeing that, thought he'd get off the same way; so
+_he_ calls out, 'My horse is lame, Your Excellency.'--'Get off and lead
+him, then,' says Kolpakovski; and the unfortunate fellow had to tramp up
+hill all day, and tow his horse after him into the bargain, with the
+thermometer ninety-five in the shade."
+
+But just at this moment my name is called, and I go up to the general's
+chair, to receive a cordial handshake, a few words of frank, manly
+kindness, and the passport which is to carry me northward across the
+steppes as far as the border of Siberia.
+
+  D.K.
+
+
+
+
+LITERATURE OF THE DAY.
+
+
+Memoir of William Francis Bartlett. By Francis Winthrop Palfrey. Boston:
+Houghton, Osgood & Co.
+
+The Story of my Life. By the late Colonel Meadows Taylor. Edited by his
+Daughter. With a Preface by Henry Reeve. London: William Blackwood &
+Sons.
+
+We put these two books together, not on account of any similarity in the
+scenes and events, the characters and careers, depicted in them, but
+because each in its way brings under a strong light the qualities on
+which nations rely in seasons of peril and emergency, but of which in
+ordinary times there is only a consciousness as of a latent source of
+strength, the sound and enduring pith beneath many accretions of
+questionable fibre and tenacity. General Bartlett may very well stand
+for a type of the "heroes" produced by our civil war--men who, neither
+bred to the profession of arms nor inspired by military or political
+ambition, quitting their homes and chosen vocations at the call of their
+country or their State, devoted themselves heart and soul to the duties
+and demands of the hour, distinguished themselves not more by their
+bravery than by their strict attention to discipline, and in seasons of
+discouragement and defeat, of bad generalship or defective organization,
+gave to the respective armies that "staying power," so rare in a citizen
+soldiery, which prolonged the contest until it ended in the sheer
+exhaustion of the weaker party. Conspicuous examples of this class were
+sent forth, perhaps, by every State, and within its borders were often
+regarded with a fonder admiration than the great commanders on whom a
+larger responsibility and more complex duties brought a more anxious and
+less partial scrutiny. Massachusetts, in particular, which could boast
+of no eminent professional soldier and whose "political generals"
+carried off the palm of a disastrous incapacity, turned with especial
+pride to those of her sons who in the camp and in the field were
+recognized as models of zeal, fidelity and gallantry. Of this
+number--and it was not small--Bartlett, though one of the youngest, was
+the most distinguished. He showed from the first equal coolness and
+daring in battle, as well as the special faculty of a minute
+disciplinarian. The regiments which he trained and led were among those
+that headed victorious charges and stemmed the torrent of defeat,
+besides presenting a faultless appearance on parade and resisting
+temptations to plunder. He himself was repeatedly disabled by severe
+wounds, and, being captured before Petersburg, passed many of the last
+months of the war in confinement, suffering from a disease which
+permanently injured his system and shortened his life. Yet he survived
+most of the comrades whose careers had opened with a like promise, and
+down to his death, in 1876, was full of enterprise and activity as a
+private citizen, bearing a spotless reputation, and displaying qualities
+which, it seems to have been generally believed, would have found their
+fittest field in some high public position. The story of his life is
+well and modestly told by his friend Colonel Palfrey, and may be
+specially commended to readers capable of being stirred and stimulated
+by memories and examples which have certainly not been dimmed by the
+greater lustre of those of a more recent date.
+
+It would be unfair to expect in such a narrative the rich and varied
+interest that belongs to the autobiography of Meadows Taylor, whose
+career was as eventful and exciting as that of any hero of romance, and
+who has told it with a vividness and graphic power which few writers of
+romance have equalled. "He was one of the last of those," remarks Mr.
+Reeve, "who went out to India as simple adventurers." His boyhood and
+youth were full of precocious adventure and achievement. At the age of
+sixteen he obtained a commission in the military contingent of the
+Nizam. At seventeen he was employed as interpreter on courts-martial,
+and at eighteen was appointed "assistant police superintendent" of a
+district comprising a population of a million of souls. The duties of
+this post "involved not only direct authority over the ordinary
+relations of society, but the active pursuit of bands of Dacoits, Thugs
+and robbers," and occasional military expeditions to reduce some lawless
+chief to obedience. But the most remarkable and laborious years of his
+life were those during which he filled the office of "political agent"
+at Shorapoor, administering the affairs of that principality and holding
+the guardianship of the young rajah during a long minority, while cut
+off from intercourse with Europeans and exposed to continual plottings
+and intrigues of native functionaries and court favorites. The skill,
+tact and courage with which he executed the delicate and complicated
+functions of this anomalous position, and encountered its difficulties
+and perils, make themselves felt and appreciated in all the details of
+the narrative, while the picture presented of Eastern character and
+manners is one which only the most intimate knowledge, combined with
+rare faculties of delineation, could furnish, and differs in many
+features from any other to be found in European descriptions of life in
+India. "Meadows Taylor was never, properly speaking, in the civil
+service of the East India Company or the Crown, nor did he hold any
+military appointment in the British Indian army. He was throughout life
+an officer of the Nizam. He never even visited Calcutta or Bengal." He
+was thus thrown out of the main line of advancement, and never attained
+the rank or emoluments that fell to the share of many less gifted
+contemporaries. Hence the peculiarly adventurous character of his career
+and the novelty of the scenes which he depicts. Hence, too, perhaps, the
+width of his attainments, the enlightened spirit he displayed in his
+intercourse with the natives, and his cultivation of his literary powers
+as the main resource of his leisure while isolated from the society of
+his own race. His start in life belonged to a period long antecedent to
+the days of competitive examinations, but his assiduity and desire for
+knowledge needed no stimulant and were the keys to his early success.
+"His perfect acquaintance with the languages of Southern India--Teloogoo
+and Mahratta, as well as Hindoostanee--was," we are told, "the
+foundation of his extraordinary influence over the natives of the
+country and of his insight into their motives and character." He taught
+himself land-surveying and engineering, and constructed roads, tanks and
+buildings. He studied geology, botany and antiquities, and applied the
+knowledge thus obtained to practical purposes. He gained an acquaintance
+with the principles of law, Hindoo, Mohammedan and English, that he
+might devise codes and rules of procedure for a country where there were
+no courts or legislation, and where he had to administer justice
+according to his own lights. In the midst of his thousand avocations he
+found time to write a series of novels portraying the manners and
+superstitions of India, and depicting the various epochs of its history,
+with a fidelity and liveliness that have gained for these works a wide
+popularity. Yet perhaps the strongest impression made by this record of
+his life comes from the evidence it affords of his humane and
+conciliatory spirit in his dealings with the native Indians of every
+class, his unselfish devotion to their welfare, his habit of treating
+them as equals and his power of inspiring them with confidence, with the
+result of enabling him to preserve a large and important district from
+participation in the Mutiny, without the aid of troops and against the
+constant pressure and appeals of surrounding populations all in full
+revolt. His autobiography has already gone through several editions in
+England, and we cannot but regret that it has not been republished in
+America, where the interest in the country and events to which it
+relates is of course far less general and intense, but where, we may
+hope, the appreciation of heroic energy and noble achievements is not
+less common. The book is not to be confounded with the class to which
+the lives of governor-generals and military commanders in India belong.
+Arrian complained that the expedition of the Ten Thousand was far more
+famous in his day than the exploits of Alexander; and this narrative of
+what must be considered an episode of the British rule in India is
+likely to hold the attention of most readers more closely than many
+volumes that recount the grander events of that wonderful history.
+
+
+Walks in London. By Augustus J.C. Hare, author of "Walks in Rome," etc.
+New York: George Routledge & Sons.
+
+Not many visitors to London would be likely to take all or half the
+walks described in Mr. Hare's two thick volumes, even if the word
+_walks_ should be so interpreted as to include commoner modes of transit
+between distant points of interest and through interminable
+thoroughfares. In Rome or Venice the tourist may be expected to follow
+religiously the prescriptions of his guide-book: he is there for that
+purpose, he has no other means of employing his time, and he would be
+ashamed to report that he had omitted to see or do anything that Jones
+or Smith had seen and done. But a few rapid excursions in a hansom cab
+will enable him to visit all the "sights" that are _de rigueur_ in
+London--Westminster Abbey and Hall and the Houses of Parliament; the
+Museum, the Zoological and the National Gallery; St. Paul's, Guildhall
+and the Bank and Exchange; the Monument, the Tower and the
+Tunnel,--after which he may devote himself without scruple to an endless
+round of social amusements, or to "the proper study of mankind" with all
+varieties and countless specimens of the genus collected for his
+inspection. It is only the zealous investigator, primed with the
+associations of English literature from Chaucer to Dickens, who will be
+apt to put himself under Mr. Hare's guidance, and to explore patiently
+the widely-separated districts in which lie scattered and almost hidden
+the relics that attest the identity of London through the ages of growth
+and change that have transformed it from the "Hill Fortress" of Lud or
+the Colonia Augusta of the Romans into the commercial metropolis of the
+world, with a population, circumference and aggregate of wealth
+exceeding those of most of the other European capitals combined. Yet one
+who undertakes this labor with the due amount of knowledge and
+enthusiasm may be sure of finding his reward in it. Though London is the
+supreme embodiment of modern life, with its ceaseless absorption and
+accumulation, it is none the less imbued with a conservative spirit
+which has saved it from the wholesale demolitions and ruthless
+remodellings to which Paris has been subjected. Mr. Hare speaks with
+just indignation of the destruction of Northumberland House at Charing
+Cross, but this has so far been an exceptional instance, though it is
+perhaps an ominous one. The traveller may still step aside from the busy
+Strand into the silent and beautiful Temple Church with its tombs of
+Crusaders, pause as he leaves his banker's in Bishopsgate to take a
+survey of Crosby Hall and Sir Paul Pindar's house with their reminders
+of the financial magnates of a bygone time beautifying their homes in
+the City as visible proclamations of their prosperity, and find, as he
+wanders through Aldgate and Bevis Marks, Wych street, Holborn and
+Lincoln's Inn, Southwark and Lambeth, hundreds of quaint fronts or
+picturesque memorials linked with names and events, epochs and usages,
+that have been familiar to his mind from childhood. But many such
+scenes and objects will escape notice or fail of due appreciation unless
+an informant be at hand qualified to proffer the needed suggestions
+without indulging in wearisome garrulity. Mr. Hare seems to us to meet
+very well the requirements of this office, his book being a happy medium
+between the concise though comprehensive, and for ordinary purposes
+indispensable, manual of Baedeker and the voluminous works of Timbs and
+Cunningham.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Books Received._
+
+Putnam's Art Hand-books. Edited by Susan N. Carter, Principal of the
+"Women's Art-School, Cooper Union." "Landscape Painting" and "Sketching
+from Nature." New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.
+
+Current Discussion: A Collection from the Chief English Essays on
+Questions of the Times. By Edward L. Burlingame. Second volume:
+Questions of Belief. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.
+
+Economic Monographs: France and the United States; Suffrage in Cities;
+Our Revenue System and the Civil Service--shall they be Reformed? New
+York: G.P. Putnam's Sons.
+
+Off on a Comet: A Journey through Planetary Space. From the French of
+Jules Verne, by Edward Roth. Philadelphia: Claxton, Remsen &
+Haffelfinger.
+
+A Year Worth Living: A Story of a Place and of a People one cannot
+afford Not to Know. By William M. Baker. Boston: Lee & Shepard.
+
+The Voyages and Adventures of Vasco da Gama. By George M. Towle. Boston:
+Lee & Shepard.
+
+The Fall of Damascus: An Historical Novel. By Charles Wells Russell.
+Boston: Lee & Shepard.
+
+Adventures of a Consul Abroad. By Samuel Sampleton, Esq. Boston: Lee &
+Shepard.
+
+The Future State (Christian Union Extras). New York: Christian Union
+Print.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_New Music Received._
+
+The Broken Ring, and The Young Recruit: Part-songs for Male Voices.
+Composed and arranged by A.H. Rosewig. (Lotus Club Collection.)
+Philadelphia: W.H. Boner & Co.
+
+Strew Sweet Flowers o'er my Grave: Song and Chorus. Words and Music by
+M.C. Vandercook. Arranged by D.H. Straight. Philadelphia: W.H. Boner &
+Co.
+
+Monthly Journal of Music and General Miscellany. Philadelphia: W.H.
+Boner & Co.
+
+Latest and Best Lancers. By Frank Green. Philadelphia: W.H. Boner & Co.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] _Gentleman's Magazine_, 1807.
+
+[2] Fuller's _Worthies_.
+
+[3] _Churches of Bristol._
+
+[4] Taylor's _Book about Bristol_.
+
+[5] _The Churchgoer._
+
+[6] The documents are given in full in the appendix of Dr. J.J.
+Chaponniere's memoir in vol. iv. of the _Mem. de la Soc. Archeol. de
+Geneve_. The former is signed by Bonivard, apostolic prothonotary and
+_poet-laureate_.
+
+[7] The story is told by Bonivard himself in his _Chronicles_, and may be
+found in full detail in the Second Series of Dr. Merle d'Aubigne's volumes
+on the Reformation, vol. i. chaps. viii. and x. The story that Pecolat,
+about to be submitted a second time to the torture, and fearing lest he
+might be again tempted to accuse his friends, attempted to cut off his own
+tongue with a razor, seems to be authenticated. The whole story is worthy
+of being told at full length in English, it is so full of generous
+heroism.
+
+[8] "Je n'ai vu ni lu oncques un si grand mepriseur de mort," says
+Bonivard in his _Chronicles_.
+
+[9] The text of this act is given by Chaponniere, p. 156.
+
+[10] We have the history of one of them in a brief of Pope Clement VII.
+addressed to the chapter and senate of Geneva, in which he expresses his
+sorrow that in a city which he has carried in his bowels so long such
+high-handed doings should be allowed. One Francis Bonivard has not only
+despoiled the rightful prior of his living, but--what is worse--has chased
+his attorney with a gun and shot the horse that he was running away upon:
+"_quodque pejus est, Franciscum Tingum ejusdem electi procuratorem,
+negocium restitucionis dicte possessionis prosequentem, scloppettis
+invasisse, et equum super quo fugiebat vulnerasse_." His Holiness
+threatens spiritual vengeance, and explains his zeal in the case by the
+fact that the excluded prior is his cousin.
+
+[11] _Advis et Devis des difformes Reformateurz_, pp. 149-151.
+
+[12] It is needful to caution enthusiastic tourists that nearly all the
+details of Byron's poem are fabulous. The two brothers, the martyred
+father, the anguish of the prisoner, were all invented by the poet on that
+rainy day in the tavern at Ouchy. Even the level of the dungeon, below the
+water of the lake, turns out to be a mistake, although Bonivard believed
+it: the floor of the crypt is eight feet above high-water mark. As for the
+thoughts of the prisoner, they seem to have been mainly occupied with
+making Latin and French verses of an objectionable sort not adapted for
+general publication. (See Ls. Vulliemin: _Chillon, Etude historique_,
+Lausanne, 1851.)
+
+[13] This touching tribute of conjugal affection is all the more honorable
+to Bonivard from the fact that this wife, like the others, had provoked
+him. Only a few months before he had been compelled to appear before the
+consistory to answer for treating her in a public place with profane and
+abusive language, applying to her some French term which is expressed in
+the record only by abbreviations.
+
+[14] Avolio: _Canti Popolari di Noto._
+
+[15] Guastella: _Canti Popolari del Circondario di Modica._
+
+[16] D'Ancona: _Venti Canti Pop. Siciliani_, No. 5.
+
+[17] An "ounce" equals twelve francs seventy-five centimes.
+
+[18] Auria: _Miscellaneo_, MS. _segnato_ 92, A. 28, Bib. Com. Palermo.
+
+[19] Pitre: _Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti Pop. Sicil.,_ No. cxlviii.
+
+[20] Piaggia: _Illustrazione di Milazzo_, p. 249.
+
+[21] These gifts are called _spinagghi_ and _cubbaita_.
+
+[22] Alessi: _Notizie della Sicilia_, No. 164, MS. QqH. 44, of the Bib.
+Com. of Palermo.
+
+[23] Traina (_Vocab. Sicil._) defines _macadaru_ as nuptial-bed, and cites
+Pasqualino, who derives the word from the Arabic _chadar_, which signifies
+"bed," "couch."
+
+[24] So called, according to Traina (_Vocab. Sicil._), because of the
+frequent occurrence of the notes _fa, sol, la_.
+
+[25] Buonfiglio e Costanzo: _Messina, Citta Nobilissima_.
+
+[26] Pitre: _Studj di Poesia Pop.,_ p. 21.
+
+[27] This may be translated, "Palermo needs a long purse." See Pitre:
+_Fiabe, Novelle, etc.,_ No. cclxviii.
+
+[28] Dante: _Div. Com.,_ _Purg.,_ vi. 84.
+
+[29] See the _Giornale di Sicilia_, An. xv., No. 84.
+
+[30] 20 kopecks = 6-1/2 d., or 1/5 of a rouble.
+
+[31] This play upon _voda_ ("water") and _voyevod_ ("a general") has no
+equivalent in English. Perhaps the best rendering would be "the battle of
+_Water_loo."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular
+Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878., by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE ***
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