diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-8.txt | 8962 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 201064 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 3498918 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/19093-h.htm | 9255 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img1.jpg | bin | 0 -> 123528 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img10.jpg | bin | 0 -> 176804 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img10th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 57180 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img11.jpg | bin | 0 -> 189363 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img11th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 55190 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img15.jpg | bin | 0 -> 188370 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img15th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 58393 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img18.jpg | bin | 0 -> 203047 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img18th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 61445 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img1th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 81243 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img22.jpg | bin | 0 -> 119233 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img22th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 57000 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img25.jpg | bin | 0 -> 180918 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img25th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 61495 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img28.jpg | bin | 0 -> 175029 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img28th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 84306 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img35.jpg | bin | 0 -> 186519 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img35th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 64584 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img4.jpg | bin | 0 -> 125362 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img40.jpg | bin | 0 -> 81189 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img40th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 63854 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img4th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 61164 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img57.jpg | bin | 0 -> 187368 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img57th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 57985 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img7.jpg | bin | 0 -> 148763 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img7th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 61368 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img8.jpg | bin | 0 -> 108192 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img8th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 51952 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img9.jpg | bin | 0 -> 180301 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093-h/images/img9th.jpg | bin | 0 -> 56957 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093.txt | 8962 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19093.zip | bin | 0 -> 200933 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
39 files changed, 27195 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19093-8.txt b/19093-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..78440e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8962 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature +and Science, Volume 22. October, 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. October, 1878. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 21, 2006 [EBook #19093] + +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. + +OCTOBER, 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. + + +WARWICK AND COVENTRY. + +[Illustration: OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK.] + +The history of England is written in living characters in the provincial +towns of the kingdom; and it is this which gives such interest to places +which have been surpassed commercially by great manufacturing centres and +overshadowed socially by the attractions of London. The local nobility +once held state little less than royal in houses whose beautiful +architecture now masks a hotel, a livery-stable, a girls' school, a +lawyer's office or a workingmen's club, and there are places where almost +every cottage, every wooden balcony or overhanging oriel, suggests +something romantic and antique. Even if no positive association is +connected with one of these humbler specimens of English domestic +architecture, you can fall back on the traditional home of love and +poetry, the recollections of idyls and pastorals daily acted out by +unconscious illustrators of the poets from one generation to another. +Modern life engrafted on these old towns and villages seems prosaic and +unattractive, though practically it is that which first strikes the eye. +New fronts mask old buildings, as new manners do old virtues; and if we +come to the frame and adjuncts of daily life, we must confess that +nineteenth-century trivialities are intrinsically no worse than mediæval +trivialities. + +There are in Warwick more modern houses and smart shops than ancient +gabled and half-timbered houses, but the relics of the past are still +striking: witness the ancient porch of the good old "Malt-Shovel," with +its bow-window, in which the Dudley retainers often caroused, and the +oblique gables in one of the side streets, which Rimmer, a minute observer +of English domestic architecture, thus describes: "An acute-angled street +may be made to contain rectangular rooms on an upper story.... Draw an +acute angle--say something a little less than a right angle--and cut it +into compartments; or, if preferred, an obtuse angle, and cut this into +compartments also. Now, the roadway may be so prescribed as to prevent +right angles from being made on the basement, but the complementary angles +are ingeniously made out by allowing the joists to be of extra length, and +cutting the ends off when they come to the square. The effect is extremely +picturesque, and I cannot remember seeing this peculiar piece of +construction elsewhere." + +At the western end of High street stands Leicester's Hospital, which was +originally a hall belonging to two guilds, but, coming into possession of +the Dudleys, was converted into a hospital by Elizabeth's favorite in +1571. The "master" was to belong to the Established Church, and the +"brethren" were to be retainers of the earl of Leicester and his heirs, +preference being given to those who had served and been disabled in the +wars. The act of incorporation gives a list of neighboring towns and +villages, and specifies that queen's soldiers from these, in rotation, are +to have the next presentations. There is a common kitchen, with a cook and +porter, and each brother receives some eighty pounds per annum, besides +the privileges of the house. Early in this century the number of inmates +was increased to twenty-two, unlike many such institutions, whose funded +property accumulated without the original number of patients or the amount +of their pensions being correspondingly increased. The hospital-men still +wear the old uniform--a gown of blue cloth, with the silver badge of the +Dudleys, the bear and ragged staff. The chapel has been restored in nearly +the old form, and stretches over the pathway, with a promenade at the top +of the flight of steps round it, and the black-and-white (or +half-timbered) building that forms the hospital encloses a spacious open +quadrangle in the style common to hostelries. The carvings are very fine +and varied, and add greatly to the beauty of the galleries and covered +stair. The monastic charities founded by men of the old religion are now +in the hands of the corporation for distribution among the poor of the +town, and besides the old grammar-school founded by Henry VIII., with a +yearly exhibition to each of the universities, and open to all boys, rich +and poor, of the town, there are five other public schools and forty +almshouses. The old generous, helpful spirit survives, in spite of new +economic theories, in these English country towns, and landlords and +merchants have not yet given up the old-fashioned belief that where they +make their money they are bound to spend it to the best advantage of their +poorer and less fortunate neighbors. Many local magnates, however, have +departed from this rule. Country gentlemen no longer have houses in the +county-town, but flock to London for the purposes of social and +fashionable life. They have decidedly lost in dignity by this rush to the +capital, and it is doubtful how far they have gained in pleasure, though +the few whose means still compel them to stay at home, or only go to town +once or twice in a lifetime for a court presentation, would gladly take +the risk for the sake of the experiment. The feeling which made the Rohans +adopt as a motto, "Roy ne puis--Prince ne veux--Rohan je suis," is one +which is theoretically strong among the country squires of England, the +possessors of the bluest blood and longest deeds of hereditary lands; but +the snobbishness of the nineteenth century is practically apt to taint the +younger branches when they read of garden-parties given by the royal +princes or balls where duchesses and cabinet ministers are as plentiful as +blackberries. Their great-grandmothers, it is true, were sometimes +troubled with the same longings, for among the many proclamations against +the residence in London of country gentlemen in unofficial positions is +one of James I., noticing "those swarms of gentry, who, through the +instigation of their wives, do neglect their country hospitality and +cumber the city, a general nuisance to the kingdom;" and the royal +Solomon elsewhere observes that "gentlemen resident on their estates are +like ships in port--their value and magnitude are felt and acknowledged; +but when at a distance, as their size seemeth insignificant, so their +worth and importance are not duly estimated." There is a weak point in +this simile, however; so, to cover it with a better and more unpretentious +argument, I will quote a few lines from an old poem of Sir Richard +Fanshawe on the subject of one of these proclamations: + + Nor let the gentry grudge to go + Into those places whence they grew, + But think them blest they may do so. + Who would pursue + The smoky glories of the town + That may go till his native earth, + And by the shining fire sit down + On his own hearth? + + * * * * * + + Believe me, ladies, you will find + In that sweet life more solid joys, + More true contentment to the mind, + Than all town toys. + +[Illustration: PORCH WITH BOW-WINDOW UNDER, OUTSIDE WARWICK GATES.] + +The solemn county balls, to which access was as difficult as it is now to +a court festivity, have dwindled to public affairs with paid +subscriptions, yet even in their changed conditions they are somewhat of +an event in the winter life of a neighborhood. Everybody has the entrée +who can command the price of a ticket, though, as a rule, different +classes form coteries and dance among themselves. The country-houses for +ten or twelve miles around contribute their Christmas and New Year guests, +often a large party in two or three carriages. Political popularity is not +lost sight of, and civilities to the wives and daughters of the tradesmen +and voters often secure more support in the next election than strict +principle warrants; but though the men thus mingle with the majority of +the dancers, it is seldom the ladies leave the upper end of the hall, +where the local aristocracy holds a sort of court. In places where there +is a garrison the military are a great reinforcement to the body of +dancers and flirts. The society proper of a county-town is mostly cut up +into a small clique of clerical and professional men, with a few spinsters +of gentle eccentricity and limited means, the sisters and aunts of country +gentlemen, and a larger body of well-to-do tradesmen and their families, +including the ministers of the dissenting chapels and their families. One +of the latter may be possibly a preacher of local renown, and one of the +Anglican clergy will almost invariably be an antiquary of real merit. The +mayor and corporation belong, as a rule, to the larger set, but the +lawyers and doctors hold a neutral position and are welcomed everywhere, +partly for the sake of gossip, partly for their own individual merits. +Warwick has the additional advantage over many kindred places of the near +neighborhood of Leamington, a fashionable watering-place two miles and a +half distant, one of the mushrooms of this century, but in a practical +point of view one of the brightest and most attractive places in England. +At present it far surpasses Warwick in business and bustle, and possesses +all the adjuncts of a health-resort, frequented all the year round, and +inhabited by hundreds of resident invalids for the sake of the excellent +medical staff collected there. One of its famous physicians was often sent +for, instead of a London doctor, to the great houses within a radius of +forty or fifty miles. The assembly-rooms, hotels, baths, gardens, bridges +and shops of Leamington vie with those of the continental spas, and the +display of dress and the etiquette of society are in wonderful contrast to +the state of the quiet village fifty years ago. But it is pleasant to know +that the new town has already an endowed hospital, founded by Dr. +Warneford and called by his name, where the poor have gratuitous baths and +the best medical advice. Not content with being a centre in its own way, +Leamington has improved its prospects by setting up as a rival to Melton +Mowbray in Leicestershire, known as the "hunting metropolis." Three packs +of hounds are hunted regularly during the season within easy distance of +the town, which has also annual steeplechases and a hunting club; and this +sporting element serves to redeem Leamington from the character of masked +melancholy which often strikes a tourist in visiting a regular +health-resort. + +In natural beauty Warwickshire is surpassed by other counties, but few can +boast of architectural features equally striking--such magnificent +historical memorials as Kenilworth and Warwick castles, and the humbler +beauties to be found in the houses of Stratford-on-Avon, Polesworth and +Meriden. The last is remarkable--as are, indeed, all the villages of +Warwickshire--for its picturesque beauty, and above all for the position +of its churchyard, whence lovely views are obtained of the country around. +Of Polesworth, Dugdale remarks, that, "for Antiquitie and venerable esteem +it needs not to give Precedence to any in the Countie." "There is a +charming impression of age and quiet dignity in its remains of old walls, +its remains of old trees, its church and its open common," says Dean +Howson. Close to the village, on a hill commanding a view of it, stands +Pooley Hall, whose owner in old days obtained a license from Pope Urban +VI. to build a chapel on his own land, "by Reason of the Floods at some +time, especially in Winter, which hindered his Accesse to the +Mother-Church." In the garden of this hall, a modest country-house, a type +of the ordinary run of English homes, stands a chapel--not the original +one, but built on its site--and from it one has a view of the level +ground, the village and the river, evidently still liable to floods. The +part of the county that joins Gloucestershire is rich in apple-orchards, +which I remember one year in the blossoming-time, while the early grass, +already green and wavy, fringed the foot of the trees, and by the road as +we passed we looked through hedges and over low walls into gardens full of +crocuses, snowdrops, narcissuses, early pansies and daffodils, for spring +gardens have become rather a mania in England within ten or twelve years. +Here and there older fragments of wall lined the road, and over one of +these, from a height of eight feet or so, dropped a curtain of glossy, +pointed leaves, making a background for the star-shaped yellow blossoms, +nearly as large as passion-flowers, of the St. John's-wort, with their +forest of stamens standing out like golden threads from the heart of the +blossom. At the rectory of the village in question was a very clever man, +an unusual specimen of a clergyman, a thorough man of the world and a born +actor. His father and brother had been famous on the stage, and he himself +struck one as having certainly missed his calling, though in his +appearance and manner he was as free as possible from that discontented +uneasiness with which an underbred person alone carries a burden. His +duties were punctually fulfilled and his parish-work always in order, yet +he went out a good deal and stayed at large houses, where he was much in +request for his marvellous powers of telling stories. This he did +systematically, having a notebook to help his memory as to what anecdotes +he had told and to whom, so that he never repeated himself to the same +audience. Besides stories which he told dramatically, and with a +professional air that made it evident that to seem inattentive would be an +offence, he had theories which he would bring out in a startling way, +supporting them by quotations apparently very learned, and practically, +for the sort of audience he had, irrefutable: one was on the subject of +the ark, which he averred to be still buried in the eternal snows of Mount +Ararat, and discoverable by any one with will and money to bring it to +light. As to the question of which of the disputed peaks was the Ararat of +the Bible he said nothing. This brilliant man had a passion for roses and +gardening in general, and his rectory garden was a wonder even among +clerical gardens, which, as a rule, are the most delightful and homelike +of all English gardens. + +[Illustration: LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL, WARWICK.] + +[Illustration: COVENTRY GATEWAY.] + +One of Warwickshire's oldest towns and best-preserved specimens of +mediæval architecture is Coventry, famous for its legend of Lady Godiva, +still commemorated by an annual procession during the great Show Fair, +held the first Friday after Trinity Sunday and continued for eight days. +From Warwick to Coventry is a drive of ten miles, past many villages whose +windows and chimneys form as many temptations to stop and linger, but +Coventry itself is so rich in these peculiarities that a walk through its +streets is a reward for one's hurry on the road. One would suppose, +according to the saying of a ready-witted lady, that the town must be by +this time full of a large and interesting society, since so many people +have been at various times "sent to Coventry." The origin of the saying, +as an equivalent for being tabooed (itself a term of savage origin and +later date), is reported to be the deserved unpopularity of the military +there about a century ago, when no respectable woman dared to be seen in +the streets with a soldier. This led to the place being considered by +regiments as an undesirable post, since they were shunned by the decent +part of the town's-people, and to be "sent to Coventry" became, in +consequence, a synonym for being "cut." There are, however, other +interpretations of the saying, and, though this sounds plausible, it may +be incorrect. The heart of the town, once the strong-hold of the "Red +Rose," is still very ancient, picturesque and sombre-looking, though the +suburbs have been widened, "improved" and modernized to suit present +requirements. The Coventry of our day depends for its prosperity on its +silk and ribbon trade, necessitating all the appliances of looms, furnaces +and dye-houses, which give employment to a population reaching nearly +forty thousand. The continuance of prosperous trade in most of the ancient +English boroughs is a very interesting feature in their history; and +though no doubt the picturesqueness of towns is increased or preserved by +their falling into the Pompeii stage and dwindling into loneliness or +decay, one cannot wish such to be their fate. Few English towns that have +been of any importance centuries ago have gone back, though some have +stood still; and if they have lost their social prestige, the spirit of +the times has gradually made the loss of less consequence in proportion as +the importance of trade and manufactures has increased. The ribbon trade +is indeed a new one, hardly two centuries old, but Coventry was the centre +of the old national woollen industry long before. Twenty years ago, the +silk trade having languished, the queen revived the fashion of broad +ribbons, and Coventry wares became for a while the rage, just as Honiton +lace and Norwich silk shawls did at other times, chiefly through the same +example of court patronage of native industries. St. Michael's, Trinity +and Christ churches furnish the three noted spires, the first one of the +highest and most beautiful in England, and the third the remains of a Gray +Friars' convent, to which a new church has been attached. Of the ancient +cathedral (Lichfield and Coventry conjointly formed one see) only a few +ruins remain, and the same is the case with the old walls with their +thirty-two towers and twelve gates. The old hospitals and schools have +fared better--witness Bond's Hospital at Bablake (once an adjacent hamlet, +but now within the city limits), commonly called Bablake Hospital, founded +by the mayor of Coventry in the latter part of Henry VII.'s reign for the +use of forty-five old men, with a revenue of ten hundred and fifty pounds; +Ford's Hospital for thirty-five old women, a building so beautiful in its +details that John Carter the archæologist declared that it "ought to be +kept in a case;" Hales' free school, where Dugdale, the famous antiquary +and the possessor of Merivale Hall, near Warwick, received the early part +of his education; and St. Mary's Hall, built by Henry VI. for the Trinity +guild on the site of an old hall now used as a public hall and for +town-council meetings. The buildings surround a courtyard, and are entered +by an arched gateway from the street; and, says Rimmer, it is hardly +possible in all the city architecture of England to find a more +interesting and fine apartment than the great hall. The private buildings +in the old part of the town are as noticeable in their way as the public +buildings; and as many owe their origin to the tradesmen of Coventry, +formerly a body well known for its wealth and importance, they form good +indications of the taste of the ancient "city fathers." In 1448 this body +equipped six hundred men, fully armed, for the royal service, and in 1459 +they were proud to receive the _Parliamentum Diabolicum_ which Henry VI. +called together within shelter of their walls, and turned to the use of a +public prosecution against the beaten party of the White Rose: hence its +name. One of the private houses, at the corner of Hertford street, bears +on its upper part an effigy of the tailor, Peeping Tom, who, tradition +says, was struck dead for impertinently gazing at Countess Godiva on her +memorable ride through the town. + +[Illustration: SPIRE OF ST. MICHAEL'S, COVENTRY.] + +The great variety in the designs of windows and chimneys, and the +disregard of regularity or conventionality in their placing, are +characteristics which distinguish old English domestic architecture, as +also the lavish use of wood-carving on the outside as well as the inside +of dwellings. No Swiss chalet can match the vagaries in wood common to the +gable balconies of old houses, whether private or public: one beautiful +instance occurs, for example, in a butcher's stall and dwelling, the only +one left of a similar row in Hereford. Here, besides the ordinary +devices, all the emblems of a slaughter-house--axes, rings, ropes, etc., +and bulls' heads and horns--are elaborately reproduced over the doors and +balconies of the building, and the windows, each a projecting one, are +curiously wreathed and entwined. This ingeniousness in carving is a thing +unknown now, when even picture-frames are cast in moulds and present a +uniform and meaningless appearance, while as to house decoration the eye +wearies of the few paltry, often-repeated knobs or triangles which have +taken the place of the old individual carvings. The corn-market of +Coventry, the former Cross Cheaping, is another of the city's living +antiquities, as busy now as hundreds of years ago, when the magnificent +gilded cross still standing in James II.'s time, and whose regilding is +said to have used up fifteen thousand four hundred and three books of +gold, threw its shadow across the square. Even villages of a few hundred +inhabitants often possessed market-places architecturally worthy of +attention, and sometimes the covered market, open on all sides and formed +of pillars and pointed arches, supported a town-hall or rooms for public +purposes above. The crosses were by no means simply religious emblems: +though their presence aimed at reminding worldlings of religion and +investing common acts of life with a religious significance, their +purposes were mainly practical. Proclamations were read from the steps and +tolls collected from the market-people: again, they served for open-air +pulpits, and often as distributing-places for some "dole" or charity +bequeathed to the poor of the town. A fountain was sometimes attached to +them, and the covered market-crosses, of which a few remain (Beverly, +Malmesbury and Salisbury), were merely covered spaces, surmounted with a +cross, for country people to rest in in the heat or the rain, and were +generally the property of some religious house in the neighborhood. They +were usually octagonal and richly groined, and if small when considered as +a shelter, were yet generally sufficient for their purpose, as most of the +market-squares were full of covered stalls, with tents, awnings or +umbrellas, as they are to this day. The crosses were sometimes only an +eight-sided shaft ornamented with niches and surmounted by a crucifix, and +very often, of whatever shape they were, they were built _in memoriam_ to +a dead relative by some rich merchant or landlord. As objects of beauty +they were unrivalled, and improved the look of a village-green as much as +that of a busy market. + +[Illustration: STREET IN COVENTRY.] + +But Coventry, as I have said before, is a growing as well as an ancient +city; and when places grow they must rival their neighbors in pleasure as +well as in business, which accounts for the yearly races, now established +nearly forty years, and each year growing more popular and successful. No +doubt the share of gentlemen's houses which falls to the lot of every +county-town in England has something to do with the brilliancy of these +local gatherings: every one in the neighborhood makes it a point to +patronize the local gayeties, to belong to the local military, to enter +horses, to give prizes, to attend balls; and if politics are never quite +forgotten, especially since the suffrage has been extended and the number +of voters to be conciliated so suddenly increased, this only adds to the +outer bustle and success of these social "field-days." Coventry has a +pretty flourishing watchmaking trade, besides its staple one of +ribbon-weaving; and indeed the whole county, villages included, is given +up to manufacture: the places round Warwick and Coventry to a great extent +share in the silk trade, while Alcester has a needle manufacture of its +own, Atherstone a hat manufacture, and Amworth, which is partly in +Staffordshire, was famous until lately for calico-printing and making +superfine narrow woollen cloths: it also has flax-mills. The kings of +Mercia used to keep state here, and the Roman road, Watling Street, passed +through it, with which contrast now the iron roads that pass every place +of the least importance, and in this neighborhood lead to the busy centre +of the hardware trade, smoky, wide-awake, turbulent, educated, hard-headed +Birmingham. This, too, is within the "King-maker's" county, and how oddly +it has inherited or picked up his power will be noted by those familiar +with the political and parliamentary history of England within the last +forty years; but, though now an ultra-Radical constituency, it is no +historical upstart, but can trace its name in Domesday Book, where it +appears as _Bermengeham_, and can find its record as an English Damascus +in the fifteenth century, before which it had been already famous for +leather-tanning. The death, a year ago, of one of the most gifted though +retiring men of the English nobility, the late Lord Lyttleton, makes it +worth mentioning that his house, Hagley, stands twelve miles from +Birmingham, and that both his house and his forefathers were well known as +the home and patrons of literary men: Thomson, Pope and other poets have +described and apostrophized Hagley. The late owner was a good antiquary +and writer, but in society he was painfully shy. + +[Illustration: BABLAKE'S HOSPITAL, COVENTRY.] + +The southern part of Warwickshire, adjoining Gloucestershire, or rather a +wedge of that shire advancing into Worcestershire, is the most rich, +agriculturally speaking, and besides its apple-orchards is famous for its +dairy and grazing systems, while the northern part, once a forest, is +still full of heaths, moors and woods. There is not much to say about its +farms, unless technically, nor the appearance of the farm-buildings, the +modern ones being generally of brick and more substantial than beautiful. +Country-seats have a likeness to each other, and a way of surrounding +themselves with the same kind of garden scenery, so that unless where the +whole face of Nature has some strongly-marked features, such as mountains +or moors, the houses of the local gentry do not impart a special +individuality to a neighborhood; but in a mild and blooming way one may +say that Warwickshire has a fair share of pretty country-houses and +attractive parsonages. Still, the beauty of the southern and midland +counties is altogether a beauty of detail and cultivation, of historical +association and architectural contrast; not that which in the north and +east depends much upon the beholder's sympathy with Nature unadorned--wild +stretches of seashore and pathless moors, mountain-defiles and wooded +tarns. Wales and Cornwall, again, have the stamp of a race whose +surroundings have taught them shrewdness and perseverance, and their +scenery is such that in many places, though the eye misses trees, it +hardly regrets them. In the midland counties, on the other hand, take the +trees away and the landscape would be scarcely beautiful at all, though +the land might be equally rich, undulating and productive. Half the +special beauty of England depends on her greenery, her hedges, her trees +and her gardens, in which the houses and cottages take the place of birds' +nests. + +LADY BLANCHE MURPHY. + + + + +LITTLE BOY BLUE. + + Childish shepherd, sleeping + Underneath the hay, + Oh would that I could whisper in your dreams, + "The sheep astray!" + + Couldst thou not in Dreamland, + Pretty herdsman, pray, + With horn and crook lead gently to the fold + Thy sheep astray? + + Alas for soft sweet slumber's + Mistland gold and gray, + While o'er the hilltops shimmering spirits lead + Our sheep astray! + +PAUL PASTNOR. + + + + +THE PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1878. + +II.--GENERAL EXHIBITS. + + +The exposition under one roof of products of every kind, natural and +cultivated, mechanical and artistic, has a certain impressiveness from the +wonderful extent and variety of the assemblage, but the effect is +confusing and oppressive. The Philadelphia plan of grouping the exhibits +in separate buildings was both more pleasant to the eye and more useful to +the student. There is no place in Paris, however, affording room for +isolated buildings of sufficient aggregate area, and the Bois de Boulogne, +though immediately outside the fortified enceinte, in much the same +position, relatively, that Fairmount Park holds to Philadelphia, was +probably held to be too remote. + +[Illustration: GRAND CUPOLA AT ONE OF THE CHIEF ENTRANCES TO THE MAIN +BUILDING.] + +The Exposition building is too low to afford grand general views except in +the end-galleries, one of which, that toward the Seine, is occupied by +England and France, and the other, that toward the École Militaire, by +Holland and France. The four especially admirable situations for display +are under the domes at the four corners of the building, and these are +respectively occupied by the English colonies, the Dutch colonies, a +statue of Charlemagne and a trophy of French metallic work--notably, large +tubes for telescopes. The French, as most readers are aware, occupy one +half of the building, and foreigners the other, the two being divided, +except at the end-galleries, by a central court in which are the fine-art +pavilions. + +Transverse divisions separate the foreigners' sections from each other, +while longitudinal divisions extending throughout the length of the +building divide the various classes of exhibits subjectively. A person may +thus cross the building and view the exhibits of a country in the +different classes, or he may go lengthwise of the building and see what +the various nations have to show in a given class. No better plan could be +devised if they are all to be assembled under one roof. The same plan has +been tried before, especially in the great elliptical building at Vienna. +It is probable that the Philadelphia plan of isolated buildings may find +imitators in the future, and then this plan of national and subjective +arrangement may be carried out without the violent contrasts incident to +sandwiching the machine galleries between the alimentary and chemical +sections. + +All the exhibits are classed under nine general groups, which are--1. Fine +arts; 2. Liberal arts and education; 3. Furniture and accessories; 4. +Textile fabrics and clothing; 5. Mining industries and raw products; 6. +Machinery; 7. Alimentary products; 8. Agriculture; 9. Horticulture. The +first of these occupies the pavilions in the central court. The second and +following ones to the seventh occupy the galleries as one passes from the +central court to the exterior of the building; agricultural implements and +products are shown in spacious sheds outside the main building and within +the enclosing fence; animals are shown in a separate enclosure on the +esplanade of the Invalides. Horticulture finds a place in all the +intervals wherever there is a square yard of ground not necessary for +paths, and also on the two esplanades which divide the Palais du Champ de +Mars and the Palais Trocadéro from the river which flows between. The +subjective character of the longitudinal disposition cannot be rigorously +maintained, since nations that excel in one or another line of work or +culture are utterly deficient in others. China and Japan, for instance, +fill their galleries to overflowing with papeterie, furniture and +knickknacks, while their space in the machinery hall is principally +devoted to ceramics, a few rude implements and costumed figures. + +The English pavilion in the Galérie d'Iéna consists of four wooden +structures representing Oriental mosques and kiosques, painted red and +surmounted by numerous gilded domes of the bulbous shape so characteristic +of the Indian architecture. In the order of position, as approached from +the main central doorway, the first and third are Indian, the second +Ceylonese, and the fourth is devoted to the productions of Jamaica, +Guiana, Trinidad, Trinity Island, Lagos, Seychelles, Mauritius, the Strait +Settlements and Singapore. Their contents, without attempting an +enumeration, are rather of the useful than the ornamental, with the +exception of the furniture, carpets, dresses and tissues. The Lagos +collection has a number of native drums, with snake-skin heads on bodies +carved from the solid wood, and it has also a very curious lyre of eight +strings strained by as many elastic wooden rods fastened to a box which +forms the sounding-chamber. It is individually more curious than any shown +at the Centennial from the Gold Coast, but the collection from Africa as a +whole is not nearly so full nor so fine. Mauritius has agave fibre, sugar, +shells, coral and vanilla. The Seychelles have large tortoise-shells and +the famous _cocoa de mer_, the three-lobed cocoanut peculiar to the +island, and found on the coast of India thrown up by the sea. It received +its name from that circumstance long before its home was discovered, from +whence it had been carried by the south-east monsoons. Trinity Island +sends sugar, cacao and rum; Trinidad presents sugar, asphaltum, cocoawood +and leather; Guiana has native pottery and baskets, arrow-root, sugar and +coffee. + +The pavilion next to the one described has the collection sent by the +maharajah of Kashmir, consisting largely of carpets, shawls and dresses, +which look very warm in the summer weather. It shows, besides, some of the +gemmed and enamelled work and parcel-gilt ware for which that territory, +hidden away among the Himalayas, is so celebrated. + +Next, as we travel along the Galérie d'Iéna, is the Ceylonese building, of +the same ruddy brown, with gilded domes, and gay with dresses, tissues and +robes of fine woven stuff made in their primitive looms, which would seem +to be incapable of turning out such textures. The addition of blocks of +graphite, some curiously carved into the shape of elephants, and the more +prosaic agricultural productions, such as cotton, cinnamon, matting and +baskets, tone down the color and exhibit the fact that the English +possession has the mercantile side. Antlers of the Ceylon deer, tusks of +elephants and boars, contrast with the richness and the sobriety of the +other contents of the overflowing pavilion. + +Another Indian kiosque, and we are at the end of the row. This is filled +by the Indian committee, which also exposes its collection in twenty-nine +glass cases arranged about the hall in the vicinity of the pavilions. + +[Illustration: THE CHINESE SECTION.] + +The prince of Wales's collection of presents, received in his character of +heir-apparent of the empress of India, fills thirty-two glass cases, +besides six of textiles and robes. Any tolerably full account of them +would require a separate article. The interest of them culminates in the +arms. For variety, extent, gorgeousness and ethnological and artistic +value such a collection of Indian arms has never before been brought +together, not even in India; and it fairly defies description. No man was +so poor but that he could present the prince with a bow and arrow or spear +or sword or battle-axe, and in fact every one who was brought before the +prince gave him a weapon of some sort. The collection thus represents the +armorer's art in every province of India, from the rude spears of the +Nicobar Islanders to the costly damascened, chased and jewelled daggers, +swords, shields and matchlocks of Kashmir, Lahore, Gujerat, Cutch, +Hyderabad, Singapore and Ceylon. The highest interest centres upon two +swords, which are by no means the richest in their finish and settings. +One is the great sword of the famous Polygar Katabomma Naik, who defeated +the English early in the present century. It has a plain iron hilt, and +the etched blade has three holes near the point. The other is a waved +blade of splendid polish, its hilt heavily damascened with gold and its +guard closely set with diamonds and rubies. It is the sword of Savaji, the +founder of the Mahratta dominion in India. It has been sacredly guarded at +Kolhapur by two men with drawn swords for a period of two hundred years, +being a family and national heirloom, and an object of superstitious +reverence as the emblem of sovereignty. The delivery of it to the prince +of Wales was regarded as a transfer of political dominion, an admission +that the latent hopes of the Bhonsla family were now merged in loyalty to +the crown of England. + +The blades of the best weapons have been made for many ages of the +magnetic iron obtained twenty miles east of Nirmul, a few miles south of +the Shisla Hills, in a hornblende or schist formation. The magnetic iron +is melted with charcoal without any flux, and obtained at once in a +perfectly tough and malleable state. It is superior to any English or +Swedish iron. It is perhaps unnecessary to remind readers that the famous +blades of Damascus were forged from Indian steel. Some of the blades are +watered, others chased in half relief with hunting-scenes--some serrated, +others flamboyant. A very striking object is a suit of armor of the horny +scales of the Indian armadillo, ornamented with encrusted gold, turquoises +and garnets. Another suit is of Kashmir chain-armor almost as fine as +lace. Others have damascened breastplates, the gold wire being inserted in +undercut lines engraved in the steel, and incorporated therewith by +hammering. Five cases are filled with the matchlocks of various tribes and +nations--one with its barrel superbly damascened in gold with a +poppy-flower pattern, another with a stock carved in ivory, with +hunting-scenes in cameo. Enamelled and jewelled mountings are seen, with +all the fanciful profusion of ornament with which the semi-barbarian will +deck his favorite weapon. The splendor of Indian arms is largely due to +the lavish use of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and other precious stones, +mainly introduced for their effect in color, few of them being of great +value as gems. Stones with flaws, and others which are mere chips or +scales, are laid on like tinsel. Two cases are filled with gaudy trappings +and caparisons--horse and camel saddles with velvet and leather work, gold +embroidery and cut-cloth work (_appliqué_); an elephant howdah of silver; +chowries of yak tails with handles of sandal-wood, chased gold or carved +ivory; gold-embroidered holsters and elaborate whips which will hold no +more ornamentation than has been crowded upon them. The yak's-tail +chowries, or fly-brushes, and the fans of peacocks' feathers, are emblems +of royalty throughout the East. + +The metal ware of India, shown in eight of the glass cases--some of them +the prince's and others Lord Northbrook's--affords connoisseurs great +delight, and also arrests the attention of those who have simply a delight +in beautiful forms and colors, without technical knowledge. It might not, +perhaps, occur to the casual visitor that a Jeypore plate of _champlevé_ +enamel represents the work of four years. In this process the pattern is +dug out of the metal and the recess filled with enamel, while in the +cheaper _cloisonné_ the pattern is raised on the surface of the metal by +welding on strips or wire and filling in with enamel which is fused on to +the metal. A betel-leaf and perfume-service in the silver-gilt of Mysore +is accompanied by elaborately-chased goblets and rose-water sprinklers in +ruddy gold and parcel-gilt, the work of Kashmir and Lucknow. The ruddy +color is the taste of Kashmir and of Burmah, while a singular olive-brown +tint is peculiar to Scinde. Other cases have the repoussé-work of Madras, +Cutch, Lucknow, Dacca and Burmah. From Hyderabad in the Deccan is a +parcel-gilt vase, an example of pierced-work, the _opus interassile_ of +the Romans. The chased parcel-gilt ware of Kashmir occupies three cases: +it is graven through the gold to the dead-white silver below, softening +the lustre of the gold to a pearly radiance. Somewhat similar in method is +the Mordarabad ware, in which tin soldered upon brass is cut through to +the lower metal, which gives a glow to the white surface. Sometimes the +engraving is filled with lac, after the manner of niello-work. Specimens +are also shown in Bidiri ware, in which a vessel made of an alloy of +copper, lead and tin, blackened by dipping in an acidulous solution, is +covered with designs in beaten silver. A writing-case of Jeypore enamel is +perhaps the most dainty device of the kind ever seen. It is shaped like an +Indian gondola, the stern of which is a peacock whose tail sweeps under +half the length of the boat, irradiating it with blue and green enamel. +The canopy of the ink-cup is colored with green and blue and ruby and +coral-red enamels laid on pure gold. + +[Illustration: THE INDIAN COURT: THE PRINCE OF WALES EXHIBIT.] + +To attempt to describe the jewelry for the person would extend to too +great a length the notice of this most remarkable and interesting exhibit, +which includes tiaras, aigrettes and pendent jewels for the forehead; +ear-rings, ear-chains and studs; nose-rings and studs; necklaces of +chains, pearls and gems; stomachers and tablets of gold studded with gems +or strung by chains of pearls and turquoises with solitaire or enamelled +pendants; armlets, bracelets, rings; bangles, anklets and toe-rings of +gold and all the jewels of the East. A Jeypore hair-comb shown in one of +the cases has a setting of emerald and ruby enamel on gold, surmounted by +a curved row of large pearls, all on a level and each tipped with a green +bead. Below is a row of small diamonds set among the green and red +enamelled gold leaves which support the pearls. Below these again is a row +of small pearls with an enamelled scroll-work set with diamonds between it +and a third row of pearls; below which is a continuous row of small +diamonds, forming the lower edge of the comb just above the gold teeth. + +England's colonies make a great show at the Exposition. The Canadian +pagoda, which occupies one of the domed apartments at the corners of the +Palais, rises from a base of forty feet square, and consists of a series +of stories of gradually-decreasing area, surrounded by balconies from +which extended views of the Salle d'Iéna and the foreign machinery gallery +are obtained. The pagoda itself is occupied by Canadian exhibits, but +around it are grouped specimens of the mineral and vegetable wealth and +manufacturing enterprise of Australia and the Cape of Good Hope. +Australia, which is a continent in itself, has become of so much +importance that it is no longer content with a single or with a collective +exhibit, and the various colonies make separate displays in another part +of the building. That around the Canadian trophy is but a contribution to +a general colonial collection near the focus of the British group, where +the union jack waves above the united family. + +In the Australian exhibits it is only fair to begin with New South Wales, +which is the oldest British colony on the island, and may be said to be +the mother of the others, as Victoria, Tasmania and Queensland have been +subdivided from time to time. It had a precarious political existence and +slow progress up to 1851, and the obloquy attaching to it as the penal +settlement of Botany Bay was not encouraging to a good class of settlers. +In 1851 the whole island of 3,000,000 square miles had but 300,000 +inhabitants, but the discovery of gold and the utilization of the land, +for sheep and wheat especially, have so far changed the aspect of affairs +that the aggregate of land under cultivation equals 3,500,000 acres, with +52,000,000 sheep, 6,700,000 cattle, 850,000 horses, 500,000 hogs, 2092 +miles of railway and 21,000 miles of telegraph. + +The collection from New South Wales contains a large exhibit of the +mineral, animal and vegetable productions of the land--auriferous quartz +and gold nuggets, tin ores and ingots, copper, coal, antimony and fossils. +New South Wales prides herself especially on the surpassing quality of her +wools and on the extent of her pastoral husbandry, the number of sheep +being 25,269,755 in 1876, of cattle over 3,000,000, and of horses 366,000. +The exportation of wool in 1876 was alone equal to $28,000,000. Then, +again, she shows gums, furs, stuffed marsupials, wools, textiles, wheat +and tobacco, also many books, photographs, maps and other evidences of the +intellectual life of the people. + +Victoria has so far progressed in riches and civilization that it has +turned its back upon the past, and shows principally its wheat, skins, +paraffine, wine, gold, antimony, lead, iron, tin, coal, timber, cloth and +a large range of productions which have little peculiar about them, but +are interesting in showing what a country of 88,198 square miles, with a +population of 224 persons in 1836, can attain to in forty years. It has +now 840,300 inhabitants, and exports over $56,000,000 annually. Its total +production of gold is about £200,000,000 sterling. Though one of the +smallest colonies on the mainland, it is about equal in population to +three-fourths of the sum of all the others, and its largest town, +Melbourne, with a population of 265,000, is said to be the ninth city of +the British world. Passing by the evidences of prosperity and +enterprise--which are, however, nothing but what ordinary retail houses +would show--we pause for a while at the excellent collection of native +tools and implements, and the weapons employed in war and the chase by the +aboriginal inhabitants--wooden spears of the grass tree, and, among many +others barbed for fishing and variously notched for war, one which does +not belong to Australia, but has evidently been brought from the +Philippines, and should not have been included. The same might be said of +several Fijian clubs and a Marquesas spear barbed with sharks' teeth, +which are well enough in their way, but not Victorian. The collection of +shields, clubs and boomerangs is good and is highly prized, as they are +becoming scarce in the colony, but the types prevail over the greater part +of the island continent, and no alarm need be felt about the speedy +extirpation of the natives when we think of Western Australia with 26,209 +inhabitants in a territory of 1,024,000 square miles, most of it fine +forest, and consequently fertile when subdued to the uses of civilization. + +[Illustration: THE CANADIAN TROPHY.] + +South Australia, with its 900,000 square miles of land, extending over +twenty-seven degrees of latitude from the Indian to the Southern Ocean, +and with a width of twelve degrees of longitude, is stated to be the +largest British colony, but has a population of only 225,000. The +appearance of the South Australian Court differs from the Victorian in the +greater predominance of raw materials and the smaller proportion of +manufactures. Copper in the ore as malachite, and in metal and +manufactured forms, is one of the principal features of the court. Emeu +eggs, of a greenish-blue color and handsomely mounted in silver as +goblets, vases and boxes, are the most peculiar: they formed quite a +striking feature at the Centennial. The resemblance of the climate to that +of California is indicated in the cultivation of wheat in immense fields, +which is cut by the header and threshed on the spot, also by the enormous +size of the French pears, which grow as large as upon our Pacific coast. +The olive also is becoming a staple, as in California, and the grape is +fully acclimated and makes a very alcoholic wine. The product in 1876 was +728,000 gallons. + +Western Australia is among the latest settled, and has a territory of 1280 +by 800 miles, of which the so-called "settled" district has an area about +the size of France, with 26,209 inhabitants. It can hardly be considered +to be crowded yet. Its mineral exhibits are lead, copper and tin ore; +silks, whalebone; skins, those of the numerous species of kangaroo and of +the dingo or native dog predominating. The woods are principally +eucalypti, as might be supposed, but endogenous trees are found toward the +north, and are shown. Corals and large tortoise-shells show also that the +land approaches the tropics. The collection of native implements includes +waddies and boomerangs, war- and fishing-spears, shields of several +kinds--including one almost peculiar to the Australians, made very narrow +and used for parrying rather than intercepting a missile. The netted bag +of chewed bulrush-root is similar to that shown at the Centennial, but the +dugong fishing-net, made by the natives of the north-west coast from the +spinifex plant, I have not before observed. Western Australia was not +represented at the Centennial. + +Queensland is the most recently established Australian colony, and +comprises the whole north-east corner--between a fourth and a fifth--of +the island. As it extends twelve degrees within the tropics, its +productions partake of a different character from those of the older +colonies, and sugar, corn and cotton are staples. The Tropic of Capricorn +crosses the middle of the province. The southern portion has 7,000,000 +sheep, but the exports of the gold, copper and tin mines exceed those of +the animal and vegetable industries. The colony has the finest series of +landscapes in the Exhibition, painted upon photographs, which may be +recollected by those who visited the Centennial. The cases contain +corals, shells--especially very fine ones of the _huitre +perlière--bêche-de-mer_, so great a favorite in China for stews; +dugong-hides, with the oil and soap made therefrom; silk, tobacco, manioc, +fossils, furs and wool. + +New Zealand has but a small show, but it is very peculiar. The Maoris are +a very fine race of men, both physically and intellectually, and have many +arts. The robes of New Zealand flax (_Phormium tenax_), and especially the +feather robes, evince their aptitude and taste. They are very expert +workers of wood, and their spears, canoes, feather-boxes and paddles are +elaborately carved, and frequently ornamented with grotesque faces with +eyes of shell. Their idols are peculiarly hideous, and have a remarkable +similarity in their postures and expression to those of British Columbia +in the National Museum at Washington. + +The section occupied by the Cape of Good Hope is somewhat larger than that +at the Centennial, but is perhaps hardly as interesting. The wars against +the Kaffirs, and the want of harmony between the Dutch settlers and the +dominant English race, have produced an uneasy feeling not compatible with +a general interest in so distant a matter as a European exposition. The +Cape, with its dependencies, has an area of 250,000 square miles and a +population of nearly 750,000. Prominent in the collection are the +elephants' tusks and horns of the numerous species of antelope, which are +found in greater variety in South Africa than in any other part of the +world. Horns of bles-boks, spring-boks, water-boks, rooi-boks, koodoos, +elands, hartebeests and gnus ornament the walls, in company with those of +the native buffalo and the wide-reaching horns of the Cape oxen, of which +fourteen or sixteen yoke are sometimes hitched to the ponderous Dutch +wagons. Hippopotamus-teeth and ostrich-feathers indicate clearly enough +the section we are in. Maize has been fully acclimated in Africa, and mush +and milk now form the principal food of the whole Kaffir nation. It has +spread nearly all over Africa, but some central portions yet depend +entirely for farinaceous food upon the seed of the sorghum and dourra. On +the Zambesi corn in all stages of growth may be seen at all seasons of the +year. + +The United States section, after all its troubles in getting under +weigh--the very appropriation itself not having been made until after the +English exhibit had all been selected, arranged on the plan and the +catalogue printed--is a collection to be proud of. The arrangement is +good, except for a little crowding. The space in the Palais is forty +thousand square feet, with thirty thousand additional in an outside +building. The latter has the agricultural implements, mills, scales, +wagons and engines, with the displays of oak and hickory in the forms of +wheels, spokes and tool-handles, which are exciting so much interest in +Europe at the present time. There is no good substitute for hickory to be +found in Europe, and it is the difference between American hickory and +English ash which causes the great disparity between the proportions of +American and English carriage-wheels. That we should copy the latter for +the sake of a fashion is marvellous. + +It is not to be denied that the ingenuity and versatility of Americans +have caused them to excel other nations in many lines of manufacture. The +public opinion of Europe regards their triumphs in agricultural implements +as the most remarkable; but the nation which made the machine-tools for +the government manufactories of small-arms both of England and Germany has +established its right to the first rank in that class of work also. The +system of making by rule and gauge the separate parts, which are afterward +fitted, has come to be known as the "American system," and is exemplified +in the magnificent collection of the American Watch Company of Waltham; +the Wheeler & Wilson sewing-machine, which is the only sewing-machine with +interchangeable parts at the Exposition; the Remington rifle and shot-gun, +and the Colt revolvers. + +[Illustration: INDIANS MAKING KASHMIR SHAWLS.] + +There is nothing in the building in better taste in its line than the +Tiffany gold and silver ware, and the carriages of Brewster are generally +admired. Carriages are, however, such a matter of fashion that an exhibit +of that kind cannot suit all nations, and what one considers graceful is +to another strange and bizarre. There is no question of the fine quality, +however: of course a nation with elm for hubs and ash for spokes wonders +at American temerity in making wheels so light, and the casual observer +thinks our roads must be better than the European to justify them. As one +English builder has, however, contracted lately with an American firm for +five hundred sets of wheels, they will have an opportunity soon of testing +the quality of our woods. + +The exhibition of fine locks and of house-furnishing hardware is justly +considered as among our triumphs, the Yale, Wheeler-Mallory and Russell & +Erwin manufacturing companies being notable in this line. The saws of +Disston have no equals here: the axes of Collins & Douglas, the forks and +spades and other agricultural tools of Ames, Batcheller and the Auburn +Manufacturing Company are unapproached by the English and French. The +wood-working machine of Fay & Co. and the machine-tools of Darling Browne +& Sharpe challenge competition. + +These are not a tithe of the objects in regard to which we are proud to +have comparisons instituted; and in some of the less ponderous articles, +such as Foley's gold pens and White's dental tools and dentures, we have +the same reason for national gratulation. Such being the case, we feel +reconciled to the comparative smallness of our space, which has precluded +as much repetition in most lines of manufacture as we find in the exhibits +of other nations. + +Our agricultural machinery is well though not fully represented. Reapers +and mowers, horse-rakes, grain-drills and ploughs are abundantly or +sufficiently shown--harrows and rollers not at all; and if they had been, +they would have added nothing to the English and French knowledge on the +subject. Owing to the exigences of space, weighing-scales and pumps are +included in the agricultural building, and the exhibition of Fairbanks & +Co. deserves and receives cordial approval. + +The problem of the day in agricultural machinery is the automatic binder, +and eight efforts in that line are shown at the Exposition--six from +America and two from England. The subject of machinery, however, is +deferred for the present, but in speaking of general exhibits one cannot +avoid a slight reference to that feature which is so prominent in the +United States section. + +Where there is so much that is beautiful and admirably arranged it seems +ungenerous to cite failures, but the pavilion in the eastern corner of the +Palais and the Salle de l'École Militaire connecting it with the pavilion +of the Netherlands colonies are very disappointing. The French exhibit of +sheet-metal work in the eastern corner is quite remarkable, but its merit +in an industrial point of view scarcely authorizes the prominence that is +given to it in one of the four grand positions for display which the +building affords. Even the Galéries d'Iéna and de l'École Militaire across +the ends of the building, although their ceilings are high and gorgeous +with color, and their sides one mass of windows in blue and white panes, +do not afford such striking positions as the four corner pavilions. One +expected, very naturally, that so admirable a position would be made the +most of by a people of fine artistic sense; and this has been done in two +of the other similar situations by the Netherlands colonies' trophy and +the Canadian pagoda. The Charlemagne statue, which occupies the fourth +pavilion, has so much sheet-metal work around it that it is not worthy to +be classed with these. In the sheet-metal pavilion we see admirable +exploitation of sheet brass, copper and iron in the shape of +telescope-tubes, worms for stills, bodies and coils for boilers, +vacuum-pans, wort-refrigerators and various bent and contorted forms which +evince the excellence of the material and of the methods. This is hardly +enough, however, to justify the occupation of the position of vantage, and +the trumpery collection of ropes, lines, nets, rods and hooks which is +intended for a fishing exhibit only emphasizes the decision, acquiesced in +by the public, which pays it no attention. + +The same is true--in not quite so great a degree, however--of the Galérie +de l'École Militaire, which is principally devoted to, and very +inefficiently occupied by, a number of stands at which cheap jewelry, +meerschaum pipes, glass-blown ships, ivory boxes and paper-knives, +artificial flowers and stamped cards are made and sold as souvenirs of the +Exposition. In addition to these, and several grades better, are a couple +of Lahore shawlmakers, dusky Asiatics, engaged with native loom and needle +in making the shawls for which India is celebrated. Then we have a +jacquard loom worked by manual power, and the large embroidering-machine +of Lemaire of Naude, and the diamond-workers of Amsterdam working in a +glazed room which affords an excellent opportunity of seeing them without +subjecting them to the annoyance of meddlesome visitors. + +As if for contrast, the Galérie d'Iéna at the other end of the building is +replete with the most gorgeous productions of India and France. One half +of it is occupied by the Indian collection of the prince of Wales and the +exhibits of the East and West Indian colonies of Great Britain, just +described--the other half by a pavilion, the recesses of which show the +Gobelin tapestries, while the richest productions of Sèvres are placed in +profusion around it and occupy pedestals and niches wherever they could be +properly placed. The combined effect of the individual richness of the +things themselves and their lavish profusion constitutes this gallery the +gem of the Exhibition. As if the thousands of gems on the gold and silver +vessels and richly-mounted weapons and shields of the prince of Wales's +collection were not rich enough, a kiosque has been erected in which the +state jewels of France are displayed on velvet cushions, conspicuous among +them being the "Pitt Diamond," the history of which is too well known to +need repetition here. + +The models, plans and raised maps of the hydraulic works of Holland are +ever wonderful. They are principally the same that were exhibited in the +Main Building at the Centennial, but there are some additional ones. All +other drainage enterprises sink into insignificance beside those of +Holland. Since 1440 they have gradually extended until they include an +area of 223,062 acres drained by mechanical means. The drainage of the +Haarlem Meer (45,230 acres), which was the last large work completed, is +abundantly illustrated here, both as to the canalization and the engines, +the latter of which are among the largest in the world. The engines are +three in number, and the cylinders of the annular kind, the outer ones +twelve feet in diameter, and each engine lifting 66 tons of water at a +stroke: in emergencies each is capable of lifting 109 tons of water at a +stroke to a height of 10 feet at a cost of 2-1/4 pounds of coal per +horse-power per hour--much cheaper than oats: 75,000,000 pounds are raised +1 foot high by a bushel of coal. The next great work is the drainage of +the southern lobe of the Zuyder Zee, the plans for which have been made +and the work commenced. It is estimated that the mean depth is 13 feet, +and that by a multitude of engines the water may be removed at the rate of +1 foot of depth per annum. Some 800,000,000 tons were pumped out of the +Haarlem Meer, but that work will be dwarfed by the new enterprise. + +The Dutch system of mattresses, gabions, revetting and sea-walls have +furnished models for all the continents, the mouths of the Danube and the +Mississippi being prominent instances. The railway bridge over the Leek, +an arm of the Rhine, at Kuilinburg in Holland, is an iron truss, and the +principal span has the same length as the middle arch of the St. Louis +bridge--515 feet. It is shown here by models and plans. + +The largest and most instructive ethnological exhibit from any country at +the Exposition is that from the Netherlands colonies in the East and West +Indies. The Oriental forms by far the larger portion of it, and has an +imposing trophy in one of the four most advantageous positions in the +building. The base of the apartment is about one hundred and forty feet +square, and the domed ceiling at a height of one hundred and fifty feet +rises from a square tower whose sides are round-topped windows of blue and +white glass in chequerwork. These give full illumination and a gay +appearance to the spacious hall, in which the trophy rises to a height of +eighty feet. The pyramidal structure has an octagonal base of forty feet +diameter with inclined faces, from which rises a second octagonal portion +of smaller size. A series of steps above this is crowned with a conical +sheaf of palm-stems, whose fronds make an umbrella of twenty feet +diameter. The peak is a pinnacle of bamboos, with a Dutch flag pendent in +the still atmosphere of the hall. From each angle and side of the octagon +radiates a table, and these are lavishly covered with specimens of the +arts and manufactures of Java, Sumatra, Borneo, Celebes and other of the +Dutch colonial possessions in the Malay seas. Here are models of the +junks, proas and fishing-craft, each structure pegged together and +destitute of nails. The large mat sails depend from yards of bamboo; the +rudders are large oars, one over each counter; the decks are roofed with +bamboo, ratan and the inevitable nipa-palm leaves. The smaller craft, made +of hollow tree-trunks, have the double outrigger, and the finer ones have +shelters of bamboo and palm-leaf. The fishing-craft have large dip-nets +suspended from bamboo poles by cords, which allow them to be drawn up when +a passing school of fish is observed by a man perched above. + +On another table are models of the fishing-weirs and traps made of poles +which must be forty feet long in the originals, and are driven closely +alongside each other so as to enclose and detain the fish, which may enter +at the funnel-shaped mouth, whose divergent sides are presented up stream. +On the bamboo piles are the floors supporting the palm-leaf shelters of +the fishing family, and upon the various parts of the structure lie the +spears, rods and nets by which the fish are withdrawn from the inner pond, +which it is so easy to enter and so hard to escape from. Various forms of +weirs are shown, and a multitude of fish-baskets, whose conical entrances +obligingly expand to the curious fish, but only present points to him when +he seeks to return. Bamboo and ratan, whole or split, afford the materials +for all these baskets and cages. + +Other tables have the land-structures, from the elaborately-carved wooden +bungalow with tiled roof of the residency of Japara in Java to the bamboo +hut with palm-leaf sides and roofs of the maritime Dyaks of Borneo. Here +we have a bazaar of Banda, and there a hut of the indigenes of Buitzenzorg +in the interior of the fertile island of Java. Among the rudest houses +shown are those of Celebes, that curious island, larger than Britain, +which seems to rival the sea-monster, with its arms sprawling upon the +map. One house on stilts is fitted up with a complete equipment of musical +instruments, the wooden and brass harmonicons with bars or inverted pans +resting upon strings and beaten with mallets. Here also is a +weighing-machine for sugar products, the floor resting upon the shorter +beam of a lever, while the long arm extends far out of doors. +Rice-granaries elevated on posts above the predatory vermin are shown in +various forms, and are set in water-holes to guard against the still more +obnoxious ants, which are not content with the grain, but eat house and +all. + +Another table has implements of agriculture--ploughs, harrows, rakes, +carts, sleds, all as innocent of metal as the oxen which draw the various +instruments; wheels for irrigation made of bamboo, both frame and buckets; +various cutting, weeding and grubbing implements, made by a sort of rude +Catalan process from the native iron ore. The plough is a little better +than that of Egypt of three thousand years ago, and the sickle is +inferior. When Sir Stamford Raffles, who was governor during the short +control of Java by the British, asked why they used the little primitive +bent knife (_ana-ana_) which severs from the stalk but a few heads of rice +at a time, they answered that if they presumed to do otherwise their next +crop would be blasted. + +One of the tables, however, furnishes a grave disappointment. It is an +innocent-looking suspension bridge, the middle third of which is +supported by a series of piles and the floor roofed in with canes and +palm-leaves. It is a model of a bridge over the Boitang Toro, and one +expects to find it of the ratan which is of general use and grows two +hundred and fifty feet long; but no: it is of telegraph wire! So much for +the intrusion of modern devices when one is revelling in one of the most +interesting ethnological exhibits ever gathered. We have, however, but to +turn round to be consoled. Here is the roller cotton-gin, which was +doubtless used in India before the conquests of Alexander. Then we have +the spinning-wheel, which differs in no important respect from that of +England in the thirteenth century, and is similar to, but ruder than, that +used by our great-grandmothers, when "spinster" meant something, and a +girl brought to the home of her choice a goodly array of linen. This was +before cotton was king, and before factories were known either for cotton, +flax or wool. Was it a better day than the present, or no? Things work +round, and the roller-gin is now the better machine, having in the most +perfected processes supplanted the saw-gin. This may be news to some, but +will be admitted by those who have examined what the present Exposition +has to show. Here also is the bow for bowing the cotton, the original +cotton-opener and cleaner. We cannot, either, omit the reeling mechanism +for the thread nor the looms of simple construction, which can by no means +cost over a couple of dollars and yet make fine check stuffs, good cotton +ginghams. Perhaps we might allow another dollar for the reed with its six +hundred dents of split ratan. + +[Illustration: TROPHY IN THE COURT OF THE DUTCH INDIES.] + +Curious and bizarre chintzes are shown in connection with the machinery, +and some doubtless made by the processes described by Pliny eighteen +hundred years ago. Other calicoes are made by at least two processes which +are comparatively modern in England, but certainly two thousand years old +in Asia. One is the direct application of a dye-charged stamp upon the +goods. Another is known by us as the _resist_ process, and consists in +printing with a material which will exclude the dye; then putting the +goods in the dye-tub; subsequently washing out the resist-paste, when the +stamped pattern shows white on a colored ground. Some of the pieces of +calico make me suspect the _discharge_ process also, in which a piece of +goods, having been dyed, is stamped in patterns with a material which has +the faculty of making the dye fugitive, when washing causes the pattern to +appear white on a colored ground. + +We have not quite done with these tables. There are two great resources of +a people besides work--love and war. "If music be the food of Love, play +on." But will playing on the instruments of Java and other islands of +those warm seas conduce to the object? The _gamelan_, or set of native +band instruments, has one stringed instrument, several flageolets, a +number of wood and metal harmonicons and inverted bronze bowls, all played +with mallets: there are also gongs of various sizes, bells and a drum. The +metal harmonicon is known in Javanese language as the _gambang_, and I +have no better name to propose. The leader's instrument is the +two-stringed fiddle (_rebab_), almost exactly the same as the Siamese +_sie-saw_, which is also admirably named. Among the _gambangs_ at the +Exposition is a wooden harmonicon with twenty bars, and seven bronze +harmonicons with bars varying greatly in size and shape, and consequently +in tone, and in number from eight to twenty-one in an instrument. The +mallets also vary in weight. The _bonang_ is an instrument with inverted +bronze bowls resting on ratans and struck with mallets. They are of +various sizes and thickness, and corresponding tone and quality, and are +arranged in sets of fourteen, two rows of seven each, on a low bench like +a settee. They vary in one from twenty to twenty-four centimètres in +diameter, and in the other from twenty-seven to thirty-two. They are +intended, doubtless, to agree with the chromatic scale of the island, but +are faulty on the fourth and seventh, as it seems to me, and yet, contrary +to Raffles, Lay and other writers, are not pentatonic, in which the fourth +and seventh are rejected altogether and no semi-tones are used. There is +no doubt that the pentatonic is the musical scale of all Malaysia, and +probably of all China; and none also that the diatonic, almost universal +in Europe, is the musical scale of portions of India. What conclusions of +ethnologic import may be drawn from this cannot here be more than +suggested, but the latter fact seems to bear upon the association of the +Hindoos with ourselves in the great Aryan family, Our _do, ré, mi, fa, +sol, la, si, do_ correspond with the Hindoo _sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, dha, ni, +sa_, and the intervals are the same--two semi-tones, of which the +Malaysian is destitute. The Hindoos have also terms in their language for +the tonic, mediant and dominant, so that they know something of harmony, +of which the Malays seem quite ignorant. + +The flageolets from Java are all made on the principle of the boy's elder +whistle, but have finger-holes--generally six, but sometimes only four. +Two bamboo jewsharps--as I suppose I must call them--about a foot long, +and with a string to fasten to the ear, as it seems, are much like two +from Fiji in the Smithsonian. There are plenty of drums from Amboyna, +Timor and the islands adjacent. The most unpromising and curious of all, +however, is the _anklong_ of Sumatra, which is all of bamboo, and has +neither finger-holes, keys, strings nor parchment. Three bamboo tubes, +closed below, are suspended vertically, so that studs at their lower ends +rattle in holes in a horizontal bamboo. This causes them to emit musical +sounds of a pitch proportioned to their length, as in an organ-pipe. The +respective lengths of the three tubes are as one, two and four, so that +the note of two is an octave graver than one, and that of four an octave +graver still. Thus, when they are shaken the sounds are in accord. Twelve +similar sets of three each are suspended from a single bar, and their +lengths are so proportioned that they sound the musical scale--the three +in the first frame, we will say, sounding the tenor C, the middle C and +the C in the third space in the treble clef; the next set the +corresponding D's above, and so on. It really does not sound so badly as +one might suppose. + +Here is a table, conchological, entomological and ornithological, which +might stay us a while if we were making a catalogue. A conch-shell twenty +inches long and ten in diameter will do for a sample--not a small +gasteropod! They do not excel us so much in butterflies as I had expected, +but some of the beetles are fearful things--six inches long, and with +veritable arms on their heads each five inches long, with elbow-joint, +wrist and two claws on the end of a single finger. Next is a praying +mantis, a foot long and with double-jointed arms like the beetles, + + That lifts his paws most parson-like, and thence + By simple savages, through mere pretence, + Is reckoned quite a saint amongst the vermin. + +Other tables have weapons, shoes, table-furniture and knickknacks. + +After this environment we have small space for the trophy itself. It is +gorgeous with tiger and leopard skins, and with the weapons of the hill +and maritime tribes under the Dutch sway, and a profusion of the ruder +implements of the less accessible regions whose inhabitants only +occasionally show themselves in the settlements. We see in this most +interesting collection spoons and knives made from the leg-bones of +native buffaloes and of deer; wooden battleaxes with inserted blades of +jade; spears of bamboo and of cocoawood tip-hardened in the fire; arrows +of reed with poisoned wooden tips; swords of dark and heavy cocoawood; +shields of wood hewed with patient care from the solid log; wooden clubs; +water-jars of a single section of bamboo and holding twelve gallons; gourd +bottles, grass slippers, bark clothing, plaintain hats, cows'-tail plumes; +and a host more which may be omitted. On the various faces of the +structure and upon the steps are profusely arranged the various objects, +over which the canopy of palm gracefully towers. + +All that has been described occupies the central space beneath the dome. +Around it and occupying the corners are a thousand specimens of wood, +canes, fibres, seeds, gum, wax, resins, teas, hideous theatrical figures, +savage weapons, rich fabrics, filigrain jewelry and tea-services. Here +also are pigs of tin from regions famous for it twenty centuries ago, +blocks of native building stones, minerals, ores and agates. Here are +models of mining-works, smelting-sheds, sugar-houses, plans and maps. + +On one side, occupying a very modest space, are contributions from Guiana, +exemplifications of the habits, methods and productions of the +country--manioc-strainers and baskets, river-boats, animals, woods, +minerals, fruits and tobacco. Figures of a negro and negress of Paramaibo +propped against the counter seem utterly lost at the sights around. + +EDWARD H. KNIGHT. + + + + +"FOR PERCIVAL." + +CHAPTER XLII. + +WALKING TO ST. SYLVESTER'S. + + +[Illustration] + +Bertie Lisle was sorely driven and perplexed for a few days after his +triumphant performance on the organ. His letter was not a failure, but +further persuasion was required to make his success complete; and during +the brief interval he was persecuted by Gordon's brother. + +Mr. William Gordon, when amiable and flattering, had an air of rough and +hearty friendliness which was very well as long as you held him in check. +But when, though still amiable, he thought he might begin to take +liberties, it was not so well. He was hard, coarse-tongued and humorous. +And when Mr. William Gordon had the upper hand he showed himself in his +true colors, as a bully and a blackguard. Bertie Lisle, not yet +two-and-twenty, was no match for this man of thirty-five. He owed him +money--no great sum, but more than he could pay. Now that matters had come +to this pass, Lisle was heartily ashamed of himself, his debts and his +associates; but the more shame he felt the more anxious he was that +nothing should be known. He had sought the society of these men because he +had wearied of the restraints of his home-life. Judith checked and +controlled him unconsciously through her very guilelessness. He might have +had his liberty in a moment had he chosen, but the assertion of his right +would have involved explanations and questions, and Bertie hated scenes. +He found it easier to coax Lydia than to face Judith. + +But this state of affairs could not go on. Bertie had once fancied that he +saw a possible way out of his difficulties, and had hinted to Gordon, with +an air of mystery, that though he could not pay at once he thought he +might soon be in a position to pay all. If he hoped to silence his +creditors for a while with this vague promise, he was mistaken. Gordon +continually reminded him of it. He had not cared to inquire into the +source of the coming wealth, but if Lisle meant to rob somebody's till or +forge Mr. Clifton's name to a cheque, no doubt Gordon thought he might as +well do it and get it over. If you are going to take a plunge, what, in +the name of common sense, is the good of standing shivering on the brink? + +Unluckily, Lisle's idea presented difficulties on closer inspection. But +as he had gone so far that it was his only hope, he made up his mind to +risk all. He saw but one possible way of carrying out his scheme. It was +exactly the way which no cautious man would ever have dreamed of taking, +and therefore it suited the daring inexperience of the boy. Therefore, +also, it was precisely what no one would dream of guarding against. In +fact, Bertie was driven by stress of circumstances into a stroke of +genius. He took his leap, and entered on a period of suspense, anxiety and +sustained excitement which had a wild exhilaration and sense of +recklessness in it. He suffered much from a strong desire to burst into +fits of unseasonable laughter. His nerves were so tensely strung that it +might have been expected he would be irritable; and so he was sometimes, +but never with Judith. + +Thorne listened night after night for the man with the latch-key, but he +listened in vain. He was only partly reassured, for he feared that matters +were not going on well at St. Sylvester's. Indeed, he knew they were not, +for Bertie had strolled into his room one day with a face like a +thundercloud. The young fellow was out of temper, and perhaps a little off +his guard in consequence. When Gordon amused himself by baiting him, Lisle +was forced to keep silence; but in this case it was possible, if not quite +prudent, to allow himself the relief of speech. + +"What is the matter?" said Percival, looking up from his book. + +Bertie, who had turned his back on him, stood looking out of the window +and tapping a tune on the pane. "What's the matter?" he repeated. "Clifton +has taken it into his stupid head to lecture me about some rubbish he has +heard somewhere. Why doesn't some one lock him up in an idiot asylum? The +meddling fool!" + +"If that is qualification enough--" Thorne began mildly, but Bertie raged +on: + +"What business is it of his? I'm not going to stand his impudence, as I'll +precious soon let him know. A likely story! He didn't buy me body and soul +for his paltry salary, though he seems to think it. The old humbug in a +cassock! It's a great deal of preaching and very little practice with him, +_I_ know." + +(He knew nothing of the kind. Mr. Clifton was a well-meaning man, who had +never disturbed his mind by analyzing his own opinions nor any one else's, +and who worked conscientiously in his parish. But no doubt Bertie had too +much respect for truth to let it be mixed up with a fit of ill-temper.) + +"Take care what you are about," said Percival as he turned a leaf. He +looked absently at the next page. "I don't want to interfere with you--" + +"Oh, _you!_ that's different," said Lisle without looking round. "Not that +I should recommend even you--" + +"Don't finish: I hope the caution isn't needed. Of course you will do as +you think best. You are your own master, but I know you'll not forget that +it is a question of your sister's bread as well as your own. That's all. +If you can do better for her--" + +Bertie half smiled, but still he looked out of the window, and he did not +speak. Presently the fretful tapping on the pane ceased, and he began to +whistle the same tune very pleasantly. At last, after some time, the tune +stopped altogether. "I believe I'm a fool," said Lisle. "After all, what +harm can Clifton do to me? And, as you say, it would be a pity to make +Judith uneasy. Bless the stupid prig! he shall lecture me again to-morrow +if he likes. He hasn't broken any bones this time, and I dare say he won't +the next." The young fellow came lounging across the room with his hands +in his pockets as he spoke. "I suppose he has gone on preaching till it's +his second nature. Talk of the girl in the fairy-tale dropping toads and +things from her lips! Why, she was a trifle to old Clifton. I do think he +can't open his mouth without letting a sermon run out." + +Thorne was relieved at the turn Bertie's meditations had taken, but he +could not think that the young fellow's position at St. Sylvester's was +very secure. Neither did Judith. Neither did Bertie himself. The thought +did not trouble him, but Judith was evidently anxious. + +"You do too much," said Percival one day to her. They were walking to St. +Sylvester's, and Bertie had run back for some music which had been +forgotten. + +"Perhaps," said Judith simply. "But it can't be helped." + +"What! are they all so busy at Standon Square?" + +"Well, the holidays, being so near, make more work, and give one the +strength to get through it." + +"I'm not so sure of that. I'm afraid Miss Crawford leaves too much to you, +and you will break down." + +"I'm more afraid Miss Crawford will break down. Poor old lady! it goes to +my heart to see her. She tries so hard not to see that she is past work; +and she is." + +"Is she so old? I didn't know--" + +"She was a governess till she was quite middle-aged, and then she had +contrived to scrape together enough to open this school. My mother was her +first pupil, and the best and dearest of all, she says. She had a terribly +up-hill time to begin with, and even now it is no very great success. +Though she might do very well, poor thing! if they would only let her +alone." + +"And who will not let her alone?" + +"Oh, there is a swarm of hungry relations, who quarrel over every +half-penny she makes; and she is so good! But you can understand why she +is anxious not to think that her harvest-time is over." + +"Poor old lady!" said Percival. "And her strength is failing?" + +Judith nodded: "She does her best, but it makes my heart ache to see her. +She comes down in the morning trying to look so bright and young in a +smart cap and ribbons: I feel as if I could cry when I see that cap, and +her poor shaky hands going up to it to put it straight." There were tears +in the girl's voice as she spoke. "And her writing! It is always the bad +paper or the bad pen, or the day is darker than any day ever was before." + +"Does she believe all that?" the young man asked. + +"I hardly know. I think she never has opened her eyes to the truth, but I +suspect she feels that she is keeping them shut. It is just that trying +not to see which is so pathetic, somehow. I find all manner of little +excuses for doing the writing, or whatever it may happen to be, instead of +her, and then I see her looking at me as if she half doubted me." + +"Does the school fall off at all?" + +"I'm not sure. Schools fluctuate, you know, and it seems they had scarlet +fever about six months ago. That might account for a slight decrease in +the numbers: don't you think so?" + +"Oh, certainly," said Percival, with as much confidence as if +boarding-school statistics had been the one study of his life. "No doubt +of it." + +They walked a few paces in silence, and then Judith said, "Perhaps she +will be better after the holidays. I think she is very tired, she is so +terribly drowsy. She drops asleep directly she sits down, and is quite +sure she has been awake all the time. I'm so afraid the girls may take +advantage of it some day." + +"But even for Miss Crawford's sake you must not do too much," urged +Percival. + +"I will try not. But it is such a comfort to me to be able to help her! If +it were not for that, I sometimes question whether I did wisely in coming +here at all." + +"If it is not an impertinent question--though I rather think it is--what +should you have done if you had not come?" + +"I should have stayed with an aunt of mine. She wanted me, but she would +not help Bertie, and I fancied that I could be of use to him. But I doubt +if I can do him much good, and if I lost my situation I should only be a +burden to him." + +"Perhaps that might do him more good than anything," Percival suggested. +"He might rise to the occasion and take life in earnest, which is just +what he wants, isn't it? For any one can see how fond he is of you." + +"He's a dear boy," Judith answered with a smile, and looked over her +shoulder. The dear boy was not in sight. + +"Plenty of time," said Percival. "But it is rather a long way for him, so +often as he has to go to St. Sylvester's." + +"He doesn't mind that. He says he can do it in less than ten minutes, only +to-day he had to go back, you see." + +"It isn't so far as it would be to St. Andrew's," Thorne went on. "By the +way, have you ever been to your parish church?" + +"Never. I don't think your description was very inviting." + +"Oh, but it would be worth while to go once. The first time I went I +thought it was like a quaint, melancholy dream. Such a dim, hollow, dusty +old building, and little cherubs with grimy little marble faces looking +down from the walls. When the congregation began to shuffle in each +new-comer was more decrepit and withered than the last, till I looked to +see if they could really be coming through the doorway from the outer +world, or whether the vaults were open and they were the ghosts of some +dead-and-gone congregation of long ago. And when I looked round again, +there was the clergyman in a dingy surplice, as if he had risen like a +spectre in his place. He stared at us all with his dull old eyes, and +turned the leaves of a great book. And all at once he began to read, in a +piping voice so thin and weak that it sounded just like the echo of some +former service--as if it had been lost in the dusty corners, and was +coming back in a broken, fragmentary way. It was all the more like an echo +because the old clerk is very deaf, and he begins in a haphazard fashion +when he thinks it is time for the other to have done. So sometimes there +is a long pause, and then you have their two old voices mixed up together, +like an echo when it grows confused. It is very strange--gives one all +manner of quaint fancies. You should go once. Nothing could be more +utterly unlike St. Sylvester's." + +"I think I will go," said Judith. "I know a church something like that, +only not quite so dead. There is a queer old clerk there too." + +"Where is that?" + +"Oh, it isn't anywhere near here. A little old-fashioned country +town--Rookleigh." + +Percival turned eagerly: "Where did you say? _Rookleigh_?" + +"Yes. Why, do you know anything of it?" + +"Tell me what you know of it." + +"My aunt, Miss Lisle, lives there--the aunt I was telling you about, who +wanted me to stay with her." + +"And you were there last summer?" + +"Yes. In fact, I was there on a visit when I heard that--that our home was +broken up. I stayed on for some time: I had nowhere to go." + +"Miss Lisle lives in a red house by the river-side," said Percival, +prompted by a sudden impulse. + +It was Judith's turn to look surprised: "Yes, she does. But, Mr. Thorne, +how do you know?" + +"The garden slopes to the water's edge," he went on, not heeding her. "And +there is a wide gravel-path down the middle, cutting it exactly in two. It +is all very neat--it is wonderfully neat--and Miss Lisle comes down the +path, looking right and left to see whether all the carnations and the +chrysanthemum-plants are tied up properly, and whether there are any +snails." + +"Mr. Thorne, who told you--? No, you must have seen." + +"But you didn't walk with her. There was a cross-path behind some +evergreens." + +"Yes," said Judith: "I hated to be seen then. I couldn't go beyond the +garden, and I used to walk backward and forward there, so many times to a +mile--I forget how many now. But, Mr. Thorne, tell me, how do you know all +this?" + +"It is simple enough," he said. "I was at Rookleigh one day, and I +strolled along the path by the river. You can see the house from the +farther side. I stood and looked at it." + +"Yes, but how did you know whose house it was?" + +"I hadn't the least idea. But it took my fancy--why I don't know. And +while I was looking I saw that some one came and went behind the +evergreens." + +"Then it was only a guess when you began to describe it?" + +"Well, I suppose so. It must have been, mustn't it?" he said, looking +curiously at her. "But it felt like a certainty." + +They were just at St. Sylvester's, and Bertie ran up panting, waving his +music. "Lucky I've not got to sing," said the young fellow in a jerky +voice, and rushed to the vestry-door, where Mr. Clifton fidgeted, watch in +hand. After such a race it was natural enough that the young organist +should be somewhat flushed as he went up the aisle with a surpliced boy at +his heels. But Judith had not hurried--had rather lingered, looking back. +What was the meaning of that soft rosy glow upon her cheeks? And why was +Thorne so absent, standing up and sitting down mechanically, till the +service was half over before he knew it? + +He was recalling that day at Rookleigh--the red houses by the water-side, +the poplars, the pigeons, the old church, the sleepy streets, the hot blue +sky, the gray glitter of the river through the boughs, and the girl half +seen behind the evergreens. She had been to him like a fair faint figure +in a dream, and the airy fancies that clustered round her had been more +dreamy yet. But suddenly the dream-girl had stepped out of the clouds into +every-day life, and stood in flesh and blood beside him. And the nameless +fascination with which his imagination had played was revealed as the +selfsame attraction as that which his soul had known when, years before, +he first met Judith Lisle. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +FAINT HEART WINS FAIR LADY. + + +Percival Thorne would have readily declared that it was a matter of utter +indifference to him whether his landlady went at the end of March to pay a +three weeks' visit to her eldest sister or whether she stayed at home. He +took very little notice when Mrs. Bryant told him of her intention. She +talked for some time. When she was gone Thorne found himself left with the +impression that the lady in question was a Mrs. Smith, who resided +somewhere in Bethnal Green; that some one was a plumber and glazier; that +some one had had the measles; that trade was not all one could wish, nor +were Mrs. Bryant's relations quite what they should have been, but that, +she thanked Goodness, they were not all alike. This struck him as a +reasonable cause for thankfulness, as otherwise there would certainly have +been a terrible monotony in the family circle. He also had an idea that +Mrs. Smith had received a great deal of good advice on the subject of her +marriage, and he rather thought that Smith was not the sort of man to +make a woman happy. "Either Smith isn't, or Bryant wasn't when he was +alive--now which was it?" smiled Percival to himself, ruffling his wavy +hair and leaning back in his chair with a confused sense of relief. And +then the dispute about the grandmother's crockery came in, and the uncle +who had a bit of money and married the widow at Margate. "I hope to +Goodness Mrs. Bryant will stay away some time if she has half as much to +say on her return!" + +The good woman had not gone into Mr. Thorne's room for the purpose of +giving him all this information. It had come naturally to her lips when +she found herself there, but she merely wished to suggest to him that +Lydia would be busy while she was away, and money-matters were terribly +muddling, weren't they? and perhaps it would make it easier if Mr. +Thorne's bill stood over. Percival understood in a moment. The careworn +face, the confused manner, told him all. Lydia would probably waste the +money, and the old lady, though with perceptible hesitation, had decided +to trust him rather than her daughter. It was so. Lydia considered that +her mother was stingy, and that finery was indispensable while she was +husband-hunting. + +"You see, there'll be one less to feed, and it would only bother her; and +you've always been so regular with your money," said Mrs. Bryant +wistfully. + +"Oh, I see, perfectly," Thorne replied. "I won't trouble Miss Bryant about +it. It shall be all ready for you when you come back, of course. A +pleasant journey to you!" + +The old lady went off, not without anxiety, but very favorably impressed +with Percival's lofty manner. And he thought no more about it. But the +time came when he wished that Mrs. Bryant had never thought of visiting +Mrs. Smith of Bethnal Green at all. + +Easter fell very late that year, far on in April, and it seemed to Judith +that the holidays would never come. At last, however, they were within a +week of the breaking-up day. It was Sunday, and she could say to herself, +"Next Thursday I shall be free." + +Bertie and she had just breakfasted, and he was leaning in his favorite +attitude against the chimney-piece. She had taxed him with looking ill, +but he had smilingly declared that there was nothing amiss with him. + +"Do you sleep well, Bertie?" she asked wistfully. + +"Pretty well. Not very much last night, by the way. But you are whiter +than I am: look at yourself in the glass. Even if you deduct the green--" + +Judith gazed into the verdant depths. "I don't know how much to allow," +she said thoughtfully. "By the way, Bertie, I'm not going with you to St. +Sylvester's this morning." + +"All right!" said Bertie. + +"I have a fancy to go to St. Andrew's for once," said Judith, arranging +the ribbon at her throat as she spoke--"just for a change. You don't mind, +do you?" + +"Mind? no," said Bertie, but something in his voice caused her to look +round. He was as pale as death, grasping the chimney-piece with one hand +while the other was pressed upon his heart. + +"Bertie! You _are_ ill! Lean on me." The little sofa was close by, and she +helped him to it and ran for eau de cologne. When she came back he was +lying with his head thrown back, white and still, yet looking more like +himself than in that first ghastly moment. Presently the blood came back +to cheek and lip, and he looked up and smiled. "You are better?" she said +anxiously. + +"Oh yes, I'm better. I'm all right. Can't think what made me make such a +fool of myself." + +"No, don't get up: lie still a little longer," said Judith, standing over +him with the wicker flask in her hand. "Oh, how you frightened me!" + +"Don't pour any more of that stuff over me," he answered languidly. "You +must have expended quarts. I can feel little rivulets of it creep-creeping +at the roots of my hair." + +"But, Bertie, what was the matter with you?" + +"I hardly know. It's all over now. My heart seemed to stop beating just +for a moment. I wonder if it did, really? Or should I have died? Do sit +down, Judith. You look as if you were going to faint too." + +She sat down by him. After a minute Bertie's slim, long fingers groped +restlessly, and she held them in a tender grasp. So for some time they +remained hand in hand. Judith watched him furtively as he lay with closed +eyes, his fair boyish face pressed on the dingy cushion, and a great +tenderness lighted her quiet glance. Suddenly, Bertie's eyes opened and +met hers. She answered his look of inquiry: "You are all I have, dear. We +two are alone, are we not? I must be anxious if you are ill." + +He pressed her hand, but he turned his face a little away, conscious at +the same moment of a flush of self-reproach and of a lurking smile. +"Don't!" he said. "I'm not ill. I'm all right now--never better. Isn't it +time for me to be off? I say, my dear girl, if you don't look sharp you'll +be late at St. Andrew's." + +"St. Andrew's!" she repeated scornfully. "_I_ go to St. Andrew's _now_, +and think all the service through that my bad boy may be fainting at St. +Sylvester's! No, no: I shall go with you." + +"Thank you," said Bertie, sitting up and running his fingers through his +hair by way of preparation for church. "I shall be glad, if you don't +mind." + +"That is," she went on, "if you are fit to go at all." + +"Oh yes. I couldn't leave old Clifton in the lurch for anything short of +sudden death, and even then he'd feel himself ill used. Stay at home +because I felt faint? It would be as much as my place is worth," said +Bertie with a smile of which Judith could not understand the fine irony. + +"I'll go and get ready," she said. But she went to the door of Percival's +sitting-room and knocked. + +"Come in," he answered, and she opened it. He was stooping over his fire, +poker in hand. She paused on the threshold, and, after breaking a hard +lump of coal, he looked over his shoulder: "Miss Lisle! I beg your +pardon. I thought they had come for the breakfast things." + +"Oh!" she said, in a slightly disappointed tone. "You are not going to +church to-day." For Thorne was more picturesquely careless in his apparel +than is the wont of the British church-goer. + +A rapid change of mind enabled him to answer truthfully, "Yes, I am. I +ought to get ready, I suppose. Did you want me for anything, Miss Lisle?" + +"Were you going to St. Sylvester's, or not?" + +Percival had known by her tone that she wanted him to go to church. But he +did not know which church claimed his attendance, so he answered +cautiously, "Oh, I hardly know. I think I should like some one to make up +my mind for me. Are you going with your brother?" + +"Yes," said Judith. "He isn't very well to-day. I was rather frightened by +his fainting just now." + +"Of course I'll go with you," said Percival. "I'll be ready in two +minutes. Been fainting? Is he better now?" + +"Much better. Will you really?" And Judith vanished. + +Percival was perhaps a little longer than the time he had named, but he +soon came out in a very different character from that of the young man who +had lounged over his late breakfast in his shabby coat. He looked +anxiously at young Lisle as they started, but Bertie's appearance was +hardly such as to call for immediate alarm. He seemed well enough, +Percival thought, though perhaps a little excited. In truth, there was not +much amiss with him. He had got over the uneasy sense of self-reproach: +the sudden shock which had caused his dismay was past, and as he went his +way, solemnly escorted by his loving sister and his devoted friend, he was +suffering much more from suppressed laughter than from anything else. +Everything was a joke, and the narrowness of his escape that morning was a +greater joke than all. "By Jove! what a laugh we will have over it one of +these days!" thought Lisle as he put on his surplice. + +Loving eyes followed him as he went to his place, and his name was fondly +breathed in loving prayers. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +THE LAST MUSIC-LESSON. + + +On the Tuesday morning Bertie was late for breakfast, and came in yawning +rather ostentatiously. Judith protested good-humoredly: "Lie in bed late +_or_ yawn, but you can't want to do both. Why, it is eleven hours since +you went up to bed!" This was perfectly true, but not so much to the point +as she supposed. + +Ever since the mysterious fainting-fit Judith had watched him with tender +anxiety, and it seemed to her that there was something strange in his +manner that morning. She did not know what it was, but had she held any +clew to his thoughts she would have perceived that Bertie was astonished +and bewildered. He looked as if a dream had suddenly become a reality, as +if a jest had turned into marvellous earnest. He smoked his pipe, leaning +by the open window, with a serious and almost awestruck expression in his +eyes. One might have fancied that he was transformed visibly to himself, +and was perplexed to find that the change was invisible to others. Judith +could not understand this quiet gravity. + +She came up to him and laid her hand caressingly on his shoulder. He did +not turn, but pointed with the stem of his pipe across the street. "Look!" +he said. "There's a bit of houseleek on those tiles. I never saw it till +to-day." + +"Nor I." + +"It looks green and pleasant," said Bertie in a gentle, meditative voice. +"I like it." + +"Our summer garden," Judith suggested. + +"I wonder if there's any houseleek on our roof?" he went on after a +moment. + +"We will hope so, for our neighbors' sake," said his sister. "It's a new +idea to me. I thought our roof was nothing but tiles and cats--principally +cats." + +Bertie smoked his pipe, and surveyed the houseleek as if it were a +newly-discovered star. Everything was strange and wonderful that morning. +Vague ideas floated in the atmosphere, half seen against the background of +common things. The mood, born of exceptional circumstances, was unique in +his life. Had it been habitual, there would have been hope of a new poet, +or, since his taste lay in the direction of wordless harmony, of a great +musician. + +"You won't be late at the square, Bertie dear?" said Judith. + +"No, I'll not be late," he answered absently. He felt that the pale gold +of the April sunlight was beautiful even in Bellevue street. + +"The last lesson," she said. Bertie, suddenly roused, looked round at her +with startled eyes. "What! had you forgotten that the girls go home +to-morrow?" cried Judith in great surprise. She had counted the days so +often. + +He laughed shortly and uneasily: "I suppose I had. Queer, wasn't it? Yes, +it's my last lesson, as you say. If I had only thought of it, I might have +composed a Lament, taught it to all my pupils, and charged a fancy price +for it in the bill." + +"That would have been very touching. A little tiresome to you perhaps, and +to Miss Crawford--" + +"Bless you! she's always asleep," said Bertie, knocking the ashes out of +his pipe and pocketing it. "I might teach them the Old Hundredth, one +after the other, all the morning through: she wouldn't know. So your work +ends to-morrow?" + +"Not quite. The girls go to-morrow, but I have promised to be at the +square on Thursday. There's a good deal to be done, and I should like to +see Miss Crawford safely off in the afternoon." + +"Where's the old woman going?" + +"To Cromer for a few days. She lived there as a child, and loves it more +than any place in the world." + +"Does the poor old lady think she'll grow young again there?" said Bertie. +"Well, perhaps she will," he added after a pause. "At any rate, she may +forget that she has grown old." + +Punctually at the appointed hour the young music-master arrived in Standon +Square. It was for the last time, as Judith had said. Miss Crawford looked +older, and Miss Crawford's cap looked newer, than either had ever done +before. She put her weak little hand into Bertie's, and said some prim, +kindly words about the satisfaction his lessons had given, the progress +his pupils had made and the confidence she felt in his sister and himself. +As she spoke she was sure he was gratified, for the color mounted to his +face. Suddenly she stopped in the midst of her neatly-worded sentences. +"You are like your mother, Mr. Lisle," she said: "I never saw it so much +before." And she murmured something, half to herself, about her first +pupil, the dearest of them all. Bertie, for once in his life, was silent +and bashful. + +The old lady rang the bell, and requested that Miss Macdonald might be +told that it was time for her lesson and that Mr. Lisle had arrived. +During the brief interval that ensued the music-master looked furtively +round the room, as if he had never seen it before. It seemed to him almost +as if he looked at it with different eyes, and read Miss Crawford's life +in it. It was a prim, light-colored drawing-room, adorned with many +trifles which were interesting as indications of patience and curious in +point of taste. There was a great deal of worsted work, and still more of +crochet. Everything that could possibly stand on a mat stood on a mat, and +other mats lay disconsolately about, waiting as cabmen wait for a fare. +Every piece of furniture was carefully arranged with a view to supporting +the greatest possible number of anti-macassars. There were water-color +paintings on the walls, and bouquets of wax flowers bloomed gayly under +glass shades on every table. There were screens, cushions, pen-wipers. +Bertie calculated that Miss Crawford's drawing-room might yield several +quarts of beads. He had seen all these things many times, but they had +acquired a new meaning and interest that day. + +Miss Macdonald appeared, and Miss Crawford seated herself on a pink rose, +about the size of a Jersey cabbage, with two colossal buds, and rested her +tired back against a similar group. At the first notes of the piano her +watchful and smiling face relaxed and she nodded wearily in the +background. It did not matter much. The young master was grave, silent, +patient, conscientious. In fact, it did not matter at all. Having slept +through the earlier lessons, the schoolmistress might well sleep through +this. It was rather a pity that, instead of taking a placid and unbroken +rest on the sofa, she sat stiffly on a worked chair and started into +uneasy wakefulness between the lessons, dismissing one girl and sending +for the next with infinite politeness and propriety. At last she said, +"And will you have the kindness to tell Miss Nash?" + +Bertie sat turning over a piece of music till the sound of the opening +door told him that his pupil had arrived. Then he rose and looked in her +direction, but avoided her eyes. + +There was no school-girl slovenliness about Emmeline Nash. Her gray dress +was fresh and neat, a tiny bunch of spring flowers was fastened in it, a +ribbon of delicate blue was round her neck. As she came forward with a +slight flush on her cheek, her head carried defiantly and the sunlight +shining on her pale hair, Miss Crawford said to herself that really she +was a stylish girl, ladylike and pretty. Her schoolfellows declared that +Emmeline always went about with her mouth hanging open. But that day the +parted lips had an innocent expression of wonder and expectation. + +The lesson was begun in as business-like a fashion as the others. Perhaps +Emmeline regaled the young master with a few more false notes than usual, +but she was curiously intent on the page before her. Presently she stole a +glance over her shoulder at Miss Crawford. She was asleep. Emmeline played +a few bars mechanically, and then she turned to Bertie. + +The eyes which met her own had an anxious, tender, almost reverential, +expression. This slim fair girl had suddenly become a very wonderful +being to Lisle, and he touched her hand with delicate respect and looked +strangely at her pretty vacant face. + +Had there been the usual laughter lurking in his glance, Emmeline would +have giggled. Her nerves were tensely strung, and giggling was her sole +expression for a wide range of emotion. But his gravity astonished her so +much that she looked at the page before her again, and went on playing +with her mouth open. + +Toward the close of the lesson master and pupil exchanged a few whispered +words. "You may rely on me," said Bertie finally: "what did I promise this +morning?" He spoke cautiously, watching Miss Crawford. She moved in her +light slumber and uttered an inarticulate sound. The young people started +asunder and blushed a guilty red. Emmeline, with an unfounded assumption +of presence of mind, began to play a variation containing such loud and +agitated discords that further slumber must have been miraculous. But +Lisle interposed. "Gently," he said. "Let me show you how that should be +played." And he lulled the sleeper with the tenderest harmony. + +In due time the lesson came to an end. Miss Crawford presided over the +farewell, and regretted that it was really Miss Nash's last lesson, as +(though Mr. Lisle perhaps was not aware of it) she was not coming back to +Standon Square. Mr. Lisle in his turn expressed much regret, and said that +he should miss his pupil. "You must on no account forget to practise every +day," said the old lady, turning to Emmeline.--"Must she, Mr. Lisle?" + +Mr. Lisle hoped that Miss Nash would devote at least three hours every day +to her music. The falsehood was so audacious that he shuddered as he +uttered it. He made a ceremonious bow and fled. + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS ASLEEP."--Page 426.] + +Going back to Bellevue street, he locked himself into his room and turned +out all his worldly goods. A little portmanteau was carefully packed with +a selection from them, and hidden away in a cupboard, and the rest were +laid by as nearly as possible in their accustomed order. Then he took out +his purse and examined its contents with dissatisfied eyes. "Can't get on +without the sinews of war," Bertie soliloquized. "I might manage with +double as much perhaps, but how shall I get it? Spoiling the Egyptians +would be the scriptural course of conduct I suppose, and I'm ready; but +where are the Egyptians? I wonder if Judith keeps a hoard anywhere? Or +Lydia? Shall I go and ask her to lend me jewels of silver and jewels of +gold? Poor Lydia! I fear I could hardly find a plausible excuse for +borrowing the blue earrings. And I doubt they wouldn't help me much. No, I +must find some better plan than that." + +He was intensely excited: his flushed cheek and glittering eyes betrayed +it. But the feelings of the morning had worn off in the practical work of +packing and preparing for his flight. Perhaps it was as well they had, for +they could hardly have survived an interview with Lydia in the afternoon. +She was suspicious, and required coaxing to begin with. + +"Why, what's the matter, Lydia?" said Lisle at last in his gentlest voice. +"You might do this for me." + +"You are always wanting something done for you." + +"Oh, Lydia! and I've been such a good boy lately!" + +"Too good by half," said Lydia. + +"And a month ago I was always too bad. How am I to hit your precise taste +in wickedness?" + +"Oh, I ain't particular to a shade," said Lydia, "as you might know by my +helping you to deceive ma and your sister. But as to your goodness, I +don't believe in it: so there! Don't tell me! People don't give up all at +once, and go to bed at ten o'clock every night, and turn as good as all +that. It's my belief you mean to bolt. What have you been doing?" + +"Look here, Lydia, I've told you once, and I tell you again: I want a +holiday, and I'm off for two or three days by myself--can't be tied to my +sister's apron-string all my life. But I would rather not have any fuss +about it, so I shall just go quietly, and send her a line when I've +started. I want you to get that portmanteau off, so that I may pick it up +at the station to-morrow morning. I _did_ think I might count on _you_," +said Bertie with heartrending pathos: delicately-shaded acting would have +been wasted on Miss Bryant. "You've always been as true as steel. But it +seems I was mistaken. Well, no matter. If my sister makes a scene about +my going away, it can't be helped. Perhaps I was wrong to keep my little +secrets from her and trust them to any one else." + +"I don't say that," Lydia replied. "P'raps others may do as well or better +by you." + +"Thank you all the same for your former kindness," Bertie continued in a +tone of gentle resignation, ignoring her remark. "Since you won't, there +is nothing more to be said." + +"What do you want to fly off in that fashion for?" said Lydia. "I'll see +about your portmanteau if this is all true--" + +Bertie assumed an insulted-gentleman air: it was extremely lofty: "Oh, if +you doubt me, Miss Bryant--" + +"Gracious me! You _are_ touchy!" exclaimed poor Lydia in perplexity and +distress. "Only one word: you haven't been doing anything bad?" + +"On my honor--no," said Bertie haughtily. + +"And there's nothing wrong about the portmanteau?" + +"Oh, this is too much!" Lisle exclaimed. "I can't be cross-questioned in +this fashion--even by _you_." The careless parenthesis was not without +effect. "Wrong about it--no! But we'll leave the subject altogether, if +you please. I won't trouble you any further." + +It was evident to Lydia that he was offended. There was an angry light in +his eyes and his cheeks were flushed. "You _are_ unkind," she said. "I'll +see about it for you; and you knew I would." She saw Bertie's handsome +face dimly through a mist of gathering tears. + +"Crying?" said Lisle. "Not for me, Lydia? I'm not worth it." + +"That I'll be bound you are not," said the girl. + +"Then why do you do it?" + +"Perhaps you think we always measure our tears, and mind we don't give +over-weight," said Lydia scornfully. "Shouldn't cry much at that rate, I +expect. I do it because I'm a fool, if you particularly want to know." + +Lisle was wondering what style of answer would be suitable and harmless +when Mr. Fordham came up the stairs. Lydia saw him, exclaimed, "Oh my +good gracious!" and vanished, while Bertie strolled into his room, +invoking blessings on the old man's head. + +That evening there was a choir-practice at St. Sylvester's. Mr. Clifton +was peculiarly tiresome, and the young organist replied with an air of +easy scorn, the more irritating that it was so good-humored. Had the +worthy incumbent been a shade less musical there would have been a quarrel +then and there. But how could he part with a man who played so splendidly? +Bertie received his instructions as to their next meeting with an unmoved +face. "It is so important now that Easter is so near," said the clergyman. +"Thursday evening, and you won't be late?" + +"Au revoir, then," said Lisle airily, "since we are to meet so soon." And +with a pleasant smile he went his way. + +When he got back he found Judith at home, looking worn and white. He was +tenderly reproachful. "I'm sure you want your tea," he said. "You should +not have thought about me." He waited on her, he busied himself about her +in a dozen little ways. He was bright, gay, affectionate. A faint color +flushed her face and a smile dawned on her lips. How could she fail to be +pleased and touched? How could she do otherwise than smile at this paragon +of young brothers? He talked of holiday schemes in a happy though rather +random fashion. He sang snatches of songs softly in his pleasant tenor +voice. + +"Bertie, our mother used to sing that," said Judith after one of them. + +"Did she?" He paused. "I don't remember." + +"No, you can't," she answered sorrowfully. "I wish you could." + +"I've only the faintest and most shadowy recollection--just a dim idea of +somebody," he replied. "But in my little childish troubles I always had +you. I don't think I wanted any one else." + +Judith took his hand in hers, and held it for a moment fondly clasped: +"You can't think how much I like to hear you say that." + +Lisle blushed, and was thankful for the dim light. "Do you know," he said +hurriedly, "I rather think I may have a chance of giving old Clifton +warning before long?" + +"Oh, Bertie! Where could you get anything else as good?" + +"Not five-and-twenty miles away." Bertie named a place which they had +passed on their journey to Brenthill. "Gordon of our choir told me of it +this evening. I think I shall run over to-morrow and make inquiries." + +"But why would it be so much better?" + +"There's a big grammar school and they have a chapel. I should be organist +there." + +"But do they pay more?" she persisted. + +"Hardly as much to the organist perhaps. But I could give lessons in the +school, Gordon tells me, and make no end of money so. Oh, it would be a +first-rate thing for me." + +"And for me?" + +"Oh, I hope you won't have to go on slaving for Miss Crawford. You must +come and keep house--" Bertie stopped abruptly. He could deceive on a +grand scale, but these small fibs, which came unexpectedly, confused him +and stuck in his throat. + +"Keep house for you? Is that all I am to do? Bertie, how rich do you hope +to be?" + +"Rich enough to keep you very soon," he answered gravely. + +"But does Mr. Gordon think you have a chance of this appointment?" + +"Why not?" said Bertie. "I am fit for it." There was no arrogance in his +simple statement of the fact. + +"I know you are. All the same, I think I won't give up my situation till +we see how this new plan turns out. And I don't want to be idle." + +"But I don't want you to work," said Bertie. "You are killing yourself, +and you know it. Well, this is worth inquiring about at any rate, isn't +it?" + +"Yes, it certainly is. It sounds very pleasant. But pray don't be rash: +don't give up what you have already until you quite see your way." + +"No, but I think I do see it. I'll just take the 8.35 train to-morrow and +find out how the land lies. I can be back early in the afternoon." + +So the matter was settled. As they went off to bed Lisle casually remarked +that he had not seen Thorne that day: "Is he out, I wonder?" + +Miss Bryant was making her nightly examination of the premises. She +overheard the remark as she turned down the gas in the passage, and +informed them that when Mr. Thorne came in from the office he complained +of a headache, asked for a cup of tea and went early to bed. "Poor +fellow!" said Lisle.--"Good-night, Miss Bryant." + +Apparently, Percival's headache did not keep him in bed, for a light +gleamed dimly in his sitting-room late that Tuesday night. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +A THUNDERBOLT IN STANDON SQUARE. + + +It was just one o'clock on the following Thursday, and Thorne was walking +from the office to Bellevue street. He had adopted a quicker and more +business-like pace than in old days, and came down the street with long +steps, his head high and an abstracted expression on his face. Suddenly he +stopped. "Miss Lisle!" he exclaimed. "Good God! What is the matter?" + +It was Judith, but so pale, with fear and horror looking so terribly out +of her eyes, that she was like a spectre of herself. She stopped short as +he had done, and gazed blankly at him. + +"Judith, what is it?" he repeated. "For God's sake, speak! What is the +matter?" + +He saw that she made a great effort to look like her usual self, and that +she partly succeeded. "I don't know," she answered. "Please come, Mr. +Thorne, but don't say anything to me yet. Not a word, please." + +In silence he offered her his arm. She took it, and they went on together. +Something in Judith Lisle always appealed with peculiar force to +Percival's loyalty. He piqued himself on not even looking inquiringly at +his companion as they walked, but he felt her hand quivering on his arm, +and his brain was busy with conjectures. "Bertie has been away the last +day or two," he said to himself. "Can she have heard any bad news of him? +But why is she so mysterious about it, for she is not the girl to make a +needless mystery?" When they reached Bellevue street she quitted his arm, +thanked him with a look and went up stairs. Percival followed her. + +She opened the door of her sitting-room and looked in. Then she turned to +the young man, who stood gravely in the background as if awaiting her +orders. + +"Will you come in?" she said. But when she thought he was about to speak +she made a quick sign with her hand: "Not yet, please." + +The cloth was laid, but some books and papers had been pushed to one end +of the table. Judith went to them and lifted them carefully, as if she +were looking for something. Then she went to the little side-table, then +to the chimney-piece, still seeking, while Thorne stood by the window +silently waiting. + +The search was evidently unavailing, and Judith rang the bell. During the +pause which ensued she rested her elbow on the back of Bertie's easy-chair +and covered her eyes with her hand. She was shaking from head to foot, but +when the door opened she stood up and tried to speak in her usual voice: +"Are there any letters by the second post for me, Emma?" + +The little maid looked wonderingly at Mr. Thorne and then at Miss Lisle: +"No, ma'am: I always bring 'em up." + +"I know you do, but I thought they might have been forgotten. Will you ask +Miss Bryant if she is quite sure none came for me this morning?" + +There was another silence while Emma went on her errand. She came back +with Miss Bryant's compliments, and no letters had come for Miss Lisle. + +"Thank you," said Judith. "That will do. I will ring when I want dinner +brought in." + +When they were left alone Percival stepped forward. "What is it?" he +said. "You will tell me now." + +She answered with averted eyes: "You know that our school broke up +yesterday? Emmeline Nash went away by the nine-o'clock train, but she has +never gone home." + +"Has never gone home!" Percival repeated. "That is very strange. She must +have met with some accident." There was no answer. "It may not be anything +serious: surely, you are distressing yourself too much." + +Judith looked up into his face with questioning eyes. + +"Or perhaps it is some school-girl freak," Thorne went on. "Naturally, +Miss Crawford must be very anxious, but don't make up your mind to the +worst till you know for certain." + +Still that anxious questioning look, as if she would read his very soul. +Percival was startled and perplexed, and his eyes made no response. The +girl turned away with a faint cry of impatience and despair: "And I am his +own sister!" + +Percival stood for a moment thunder-struck. Then "Bertie?" he said. + +"But you did not think of him till I spoke," she answered passionately. +"It was my doing--mine!" + +"Where is Bertie?" Thorne asked the question with something of her fear in +his eyes. + +"I don't know. I had that yesterday morning." + +He took a pencilled scrap of paper from her hand. Bertie had written, "I +find I cannot be back this afternoon, probably not till to-morrow. Don't +expect me till you see me, and don't be anxious about me. All right.--Your +H.L." + +"How did you get this?" he asked, turning it uneasily in his fingers. + +"A boy brought it from the station not half an hour after he went." + +Percival was silent. A sudden certainty had sprung up in his mind, and it +made any attempt at reassuring her little better than a lie. Yet he felt +as if his certainty were altogether unfounded. He could assign no reason +for it. The truth was, that Bertie himself was the reason, and Percival +knew him better than he had supposed. + +"Mr. Thorne," said Judith, "don't you hate me for what I've said? Surely +you must. Miss Crawford doesn't dream that Bertie has anything to do with +this. And you didn't, for I watched your eyes: you never would have +thought of him but for me. It is I, his own sister, who have hinted it. He +has nobody but me, and when his back is turned I accuse him of being so +base, so cruel, so mercenary, that--" She stopped and tried to steady her +voice. Suddenly she turned and pointed to the door: "And if he came in +there now, this minute--oh, Bertie, my Bertie, if you _would_!--if he +stood there now, I should have slandered him without a shadow of proof. +Oh, it is odious, horrible! The one in all the world who should have clung +to him and believed in him, and I have thought this of him! Say it is +horrible, unnatural--reproach me--leave me! Oh, my God! you can't." + +And in truth Percival stood mute and grave, holding the shred of paper in +his hand and making no sign through all the questioning pauses in her +words. But her last appeal roused him. "No," he said gently, "I can't +reproach you. If you are the first to think this, don't I know that you +will be the one to hope and pray when others give up?" He took her hands +in his: she suffered him to do what he would. "How should Miss Crawford +think of him?" he said. "Pray God we may be mistaken, and if Bertie comes +back can we not keep silence for ever?" + +"I could not look him in the face." + +"Tell me all," said Thorne. "Where did he say he was going? Tell me +everything. If you are calm and if we lose no time, we may unravel this +mystery and clear Bertie altogether before any harm is done. As you say, +there is no shadow of proof. Miss Nash may have gone away alone: +school-girls have silly fancies. Or perhaps some accident on the line--" + +"No," said Judith. + +"No? Are you sure? Sit down and tell me all." + +She obeyed to the best of her ability. She told him what Bertie had said +about the situation he hoped to obtain, and what little she knew about +Emmeline's disappearance. + +Percival listened, with a face which grew more anxious with every word. + +This is what had actually happened that morning at Standon Square: Judith +was busy over Miss Crawford's accounts. She remembered so well the column +of figures, and the doubtful hieroglyphic which might be an 8, but was +quite as likely to be a 3. While she sat gazing at it and weighing +probabilities in her mind the housemaid appeared, with an urgent request +that she would go to Miss Crawford at once. Obeying the summons, she found +the old lady looking at an unopened letter which lay on the table before +her. + +"My dear," said the little schoolmistress, "look at this." There was a +tone of hurried anxiety in her voice, and she held it out with fingers +that trembled a little. + +It was directed in a gentleman's hand, neat and old-fashioned: "Miss +Emmeline Nash, care of Miss Crawford, Montague House, Standon Square, +Brenthill." + +Judith glanced eagerly at the envelope. For a moment she had feared that +it might be some folly of Bertie's addressed to one of the girls. But this +was no writing of his, and she breathed again. "To Emmeline," she said. +"From some one who did not know when you broke up. Did you want me to +direct it to be forwarded?" + +"Forwarded? where? Do you know who wrote that letter?" By this time Miss +Crawford's crisp ribbons were quivering like aspen-leaves. + +"No: who? Is there anything wrong about this correspondent of Emmeline's? +I thought you would forward it to her at home. Dear Miss Crawford, what is +the matter?" + +"That is Mr. Nash's writing. Oh, Judith, what does it mean? She went away +yesterday to his house, and he writes to her here!" + +The girl was taken aback for a moment, but her swift common sense came to +her aid: "It means that Mr. Nash has an untrustworthy servant who has +carried his master's letter in his pocket, and posted it a day too late +rather than own his carelessness. Some directions about Emmeline's +journey: open it and see." + +"Ah! possibly: I never thought of that," said Miss Crawford, feeling for +her glasses. "But," her fears returning in a moment, "I ought to have +heard from Emmeline." + +"When? She would hardly write the night she got there. You were sure not +to hear this morning: you know how she puts things off. The mid-day post +will be in directly: perhaps you'll hear then. Open the letter now and set +your mind at rest." + +The envelope was torn open. "Now, you'll see he wrote it on the 18th--Good +Heavens! it's dated yesterday!" + +"MY DEAR EMMELINE: Since Miss Crawford wishes you to remain two days +longer for this lesson you talk of, I can have no possible objection, but +I wish you could have let me know a little sooner. You very thoughtfully +say you will not give me the trouble of writing if I grant your request. I +suppose it never occurred to you that by the time your letter reached me +every arrangement had been made for your arrival--a greater trouble, which +might have been avoided if you had written earlier. Neither did you give +me much choice in the matter. + +"But I will not find fault just when you are coming home. I took you at +your word when your letter arrived yesterday, and did not write. But +to-day it has occurred to me that after all you might like a line, and +that Miss Crawford would be glad to know that you will be met at the end +of your journey." + +Compliments to the schoolmistress followed, and the signature, + +"HENRY NASH." + +The two women read this epistle with intense anxiety. But while Miss +Crawford was painfully deciphering it, and had only realized the terrible +fact that Emmeline was lost, the girl's quicker brain had snatched its +meaning at a glance. She saw the cunning scheme to secure two days of +unsuspected liberty. Who had planned this? Who had so cleverly dissuaded +Mr. Nash from writing? And what had the brainless, sentimental school-girl +done with the time? + +"Where is she?" cried Miss Crawford, clinging feebly to Judith. "Oh, has +there been some accident?" + +"No accident," said Judith. "Do you not see that it was planned +beforehand? She never thought of staying till Friday." + +"No, never. Oh, my dear, I don't seem able to understand. Don't you think +perhaps my head will be clearer in a minute or two? Where can she be?" + +The poor old lady looked vaguely about, as if Miss Nash might be playing +hide-and-seek behind the furniture. Her face was veined and ghastly. She +hardly comprehended the blow which was falling upon her, but she shivered +hopelessly, and thought she should understand soon, and looked up at +Judith with a mute appeal in her dim eyes. + +"Where can she be?" The girl echoed Miss Crawford's words half to herself. +"What ought we to do?" + +"I can't think why she wrote and told them not to meet her on Wednesday," +said the old lady. "So timid as Emmeline always was, and she hated +travelling alone! Oh, Judith! Has she run away with some one?" + +A cold hand seemed to clutch Judith's heart, and her face was like marble. +Bertie! Oh no--no--no! Not her brother! This treachery could not be his +work. Yet "Bertie" flashed before her eyes as if the name were written in +letters of flame on Mr. Nash's open note, on the wall, the floor, the +ceiling. It swam in a fiery haze between Miss Crawford and herself. + +She stood with her hands tightly clasped and her lips compressed. It +seemed to her that if she relaxed the tension of her muscles for one +moment Bertie's name would force its way out in spite of her. And even in +that first dismay she was conscious that she had no ground for her belief +but an unreasoning instinct and the mere fact that Bertie was away. + +"Help me, Judith!" said Miss Crawford pitifully. She trembled as she +clung to the girl's shoulder. "I'm not so young as I used to be, you know. +I don't feel as if I could stand it. Oh, if only your mamma were here!" + +Judith answered with a sob. Miss Crawford's confession of old age went to +her heart. So did that pathetic cry, which was half longing for her who +had been so many years at rest, and half for Miss Crawford's own stronger +and brighter self of bygone days. She put her arm round the schoolmistress +and held up the shaking, unsubstantial little figure. "If Bertie has done +this, he has killed her," said the girl to herself, even while she +declared aloud, "I _will_ help you, dear Miss Crawford. I will do all I +can. Don't be so unhappy: it may be better than we fear." But the last +words, instead of ringing clear and true, as consolation should, died +faintly on her lips. + +Something was done, however. Miss Crawford was put on the sofa and had a +glass of wine, while Judith sent a telegram in her name to Mr. Nash. But +the poor old lady could not rest for a moment. She pulled herself up by +the help of the back of the couch, and sitting there, with her ghastly +face surmounted by a crushed and woebegone cap, she went over the same old +questions and doubts and fears again and again. Judith answered her as +well as she could, and persuaded her to lie down once more. But in another +moment she was up again: "Judith, I want you! Come here--come quite +close!" + +"Here I am, dear Miss Crawford. What is it?" + +The old lady looked fixedly at the kneeling figure before her. "I've +nobody but you, my dear," she said. "You are a little like your mamma +sometimes." + +"Am I?" said Judith. "So much the better. Perhaps it will make you feel as +if I could help you." + +"You are not like her to-day. Your eyes are so sad and strange." Judith +tried to smile. "Your brother, Mr. Herbert, is more like her. I noticed it +when he was here last. She had just that bright, happy look." + +"I don't remember that," Judith answered. (One recollected the +school-girl, and one the wife.) + +"And that sweet smile: Mr. Herbert has that too. One could see how good +she was. But I didn't mean to talk about that. There is something--I +sha'n't be easy till I have told some one." + +"Tell me, my dear," said Judith. + +The schoolmistress looked anxiously round: "I may be mistaken--I hope I +am--but do you know, dear, I doubt I'm not quite so wakeful as I ought to +be. You wouldn't notice it, of course, because it is when I am alone or as +good as alone. But sometimes--just now and then, you know--when I have +been with the girls while they took their lessons from the masters, the +time has seemed to go so very fast. I should really have thought they +hadn't drawn a line when the drawing-master has said, 'That will do for +to-day, young ladies,' and none of them seemed surprised. And once or +twice I really haven't been _quite_ sure what they have been practising +with Mr. Herbert. But music is so very soothing, isn't it?" + +Judith held her breath in terror. And yet would it not be better if that +horrible thought came to Miss Crawford too? If others attacked him his +sister might defend. Nevertheless, she drew a long sigh of relief when the +old lady went on, as if confessing a crime of far deeper dye: "And in +church--it isn't easy to keep awake sometimes, one has heard the service +so often, and the sermons seem so very much alike--suppose some +unprincipled young man--" + +"Dear Miss Crawford, no one can wonder if you are drowsy now and then. You +are always so busy it is only natural." + +"But it isn't right. And," with the quick tears gathering in her eyes, "I +ought to have owned it before. Only, I have tried so hard to keep awake!" + +"I know you have." + +Miss Crawford drew one of her hands from Judith's clasp to find her +handkerchief, and then laid her head on the girl's shoulder and sobbed. +"If it has happened so," she said--"if it has been my carelessness that +has done it, I shall never forgive myself. Never! For I can never say +that I didn't suspect myself of being unfit. It will break my heart. I +have been so proud to think that I had never failed any one who trusted +me. And now a poor motherless girl, who was to be my especial care, who +had no one but me to care for her--Oh, Judith, what has become of her?" + +There was silence for a minute. How could Judith answer her? + +"I can never say I didn't doubt myself; but it was only a doubt. And how +could I give up with so many depending on me?" + +"Wait till we know something more," Judith pleaded. "Wait till we hear +what Mr. Nash says in answer to your message. I am sure you have tried to +act for the best." + +"I shall never hold up my head again," said Miss Crawford, and laid it +feebly down as if she were tired out. + +The telegram came. Emmeline had not been heard of, and Mr. Nash would be +at Brenthill that afternoon. + +Judith searched the little room which the school-girl had occupied, but no +indication of her intention to fly was to be found. She dared not question +the servants before Mr. Nash's arrival. Secrecy might be important, and +there would be an end to all hope of secrecy if once suspicion were +aroused. + +"There's nothing to do but to wait," she said, coming down to Miss +Crawford. "I think, if you don't mind, I'll go home for an hour or so." + +"No, no, no! don't go!" + +"I must," said Judith. "I shall not be long." + +"You will." + +"No. An hour and a half--two hours at the utmost." + +"Oh, I understand," said Miss Crawford. "You will never come back." + +"Never come back? I will promise you, if you like, that I will be here +again by half-past two--that is, if I go now." + +"Oh, of course I can't keep you: if you will go, you will. But I think it +is very cruel of you. You will leave me to face Mr. Nash alone." + +"Indeed I will not," the girl replied. + +"And, after all, it is not half so bad for you as for me. He can't blame +you. It will kill me, I think, but he can't say anything to you. Oh, +Judith, I'm only a stupid old woman, but I have meant to be kind to you." + +"No one could have been kinder," said Judith. "Miss Crawford, whatever +happens, believe me I am grateful." + +"Then you will stop--you will stop? He can't say anything to you, my +dear." + +Judith was cold with terror at the thought of what Mr. Nash might have to +say to her. At the same moment she was burning with anxiety to get to +Bellevue street and find some letter from Bertie. She freed her hands +gently, but firmly. Miss Crawford sank back in mute despair, as if she had +received her death-wound. + +"Listen to me," said Judith. "I _must_ go, but I will come back. I would +swear it, only I don't quite know how people swear," she added with a +tremulous little laugh. "Dear Miss Crawford, you trusted mamma: as surely +as I am her daughter you may trust me. Won't you trust me, dear?" + +"I'll try," said the old lady. "But why must you go?" + +"I must, really." + +"It won't be so bad for you: he can't blame you," Miss Crawford +reiterated, drearily pleading. "Judith, no one ever had the heart to be so +cruel as you will be if you don't come back." + +"But I will," said Judith. She made her escape, and met Percival Thorne on +her way to Bellevue street. + +"And now what is to be done?" she asked, looking up at him when she had +told him all. "No letter--no sign of Bertie." + +Percival might not be very ready with expedients, but his calmness and +reserve gave an impression of greater resources than he actually +possessed. He hesitated while Judith spoke, but he did not show it. There +was a pause, during which he caught at an idea, and uttered it without a +trace of indecision. "I'll look up Gordon," he said, glancing at his +watch. "If Gordon told Bertie of this situation, he may be able to tell us +where a telegram would find him. Perhaps he may explain this mysterious +little note. If we can satisfactorily account for his absence, we shall +have nothing to say about Bertie, except to justify him if any one else +should bring his name into the affair. And you could do your best to help +Mr. Nash and Miss Crawford in their search." + +"Yes, but where will you find Mr. Gordon?" + +"He's a clerk at a factory in Hill street. I will go at once." And he +hurried off. + +Judith went to the window and looked after him with a despairing sense of +loneliness in her heart. The little maid asked her if the dinner should be +brought in, and she answered in a tone that she hoped was cheerful. + +Miss Bryant came in with a dish and set it on the table. She seldom helped +in this way, and Judith divined the motive. Conscious that she was +narrowly scanned, she tried to assume a careless air, and turned away so +that the light should not fall on her face. But Lydia said nothing. She +looked at Judith doubtfully, curiously, anxiously: her lips parted, but no +word came. Judith began to eat as if in defiance. + +Lydia hesitated on the threshold, and then went away. "Stuck-up thing!" +she exclaimed as soon as she was safe in the passage. "But what has he +been doing? Oh, I must and will know!" + +Percival returned before Judith's time had expired, and came into the room +with a grave face and eyes that would not meet hers. + +"Tell me," she said. + +He turned away and studied a colored lithograph on the wall. "It wasn't +true," he said. "Gordon was at the last practicing, but he never said a +word about this organist's situation. In fact, Bertie left before the +choir separated." + +"Some one else might have told him," said Judith. + +There was a pause. "I fear not," said Percival, intently examining a very +blue church-spire in one corner of the picture. "In fact, Miss Lisle, I +don't see how any one could. There is no vacancy for an organist +there--no prospect of any vacancy. I ascertained that." + +Another pause, a much longer one. Percival had turned away from the +lithograph, but now he was looking at a threadbare place in the carpet as +thoughtfully as if he would have to pay for a new one. He touched it +lightly with his foot, and perceived that it would soon wear into a hole. + +"I must go back to Miss Crawford," said Judith suddenly. He bent his head +in silent acquiescence. "What am I to tell her?" She lifted a book from +the table, and laid it down again with a quivering hand. "Oh, it is too +cruel!" she said in a low voice. "No one could expect it of me. My own +brother!" + +"That's true. No one could expect it." + +"And yet--" said Judith. "Miss Crawford--Emmeline. Oh, Mr. Thorne, tell me +what I ought to do." + +"How can I? I don't know what to say. Why do you attempt to decide now? +You may safely leave it till the time comes." + +"Safely?" + +"Yes. You will not do less than your duty." + +She hesitated, having a woman's craving for something to which she might +cling, something definite and settled. "It is not certain," she said at +last. + +"No," he answered. "Bertie has deceived you, but it may be for some +foolish scheme of his own. He may be guiltless of this: it is only a +suspicion still." + +"Well, I will go," said Judith again. "Oh, if only he had come home!" + +"There is a choir-practice to-night," said Percival. "If all is well he +will be back in time for that. They have no doubt of his coming. Why not +leave a note?" + +She took a sheet of paper and wrote on it-- + +"MY DEAREST BROTHER:" ("If he comes back he will be best and dearest," she +thought as she wrote. It had come to this, that it was necessary to +justify the loving words! "If he comes back, oh how shall I ever atone to +him?") "Come to me at once at Standon Square. Do not lose a moment, I +entreat you. "Yours always, + +JUDITH." + +She folded and addressed it, and laid it where he could not fail to see it +as he came in. Then, having put on her hat, she turned to go. + +"Let me walk with you," said Percival. Lydia met them on the stairs and +cast a look of scornful anger on Miss Lisle. "Much she cares!" the girl +muttered. "_He_ doesn't come back, but she can go walking about with her +young man! Those two won't miss him much." + +Thorne saw his companion safely to Standon Square, and then went to the +office. He was late, a thing which had never happened before, and, though +he did his best to make up for lost time, he failed signally. His thoughts +wandered from his work to dwell on Judith Lisle, and, if truth be +confessed, on the dinner, which he had forgotten while with her. He was +tired and faint. The lines seemed to swim before his eyes, and he hardly +grasped the sense of what he wrote. Once he awoke from a reverie and found +himself staring blankly at an ink-spot on the dingy desk. The young clerk +on his right was watching him with a look of curiosity, in which there was +as much malevolence as his feeble features could express, and when Thorne +met his eyes he turned away with an unpleasant smile. It seemed as if six +o'clock would never come, but it struck at last, and Percival escaped and +made his way to Bellevue street. + +[TO BE CONTINUED.] + + + + +UNWRITTEN LITERATURE OF THE CAUCASIAN MOUNTAINEERS. + +TWO PAPERS.--I. + + +In the south-eastern corner of European Russia, between the Black Sea and +the Caspian, in about the latitude of New York City, there rises abruptly +from the dead level of the Tatar steppes a huge broken wall of snowy +alpine mountains which has been known to the world for more than two +thousand years as the great range of the Caucasus. It is in some respects +one of the most remarkable mountain-masses on the globe. Its peaks outrank +those of Switzerland both in height and in rugged grandeur of outline; its +glaciers, ice-falls and avalanches are second in extent and magnitude only +to those of the Himalayas: the diversity of its climates is only +paralleled by the diversity of the races which inhabit it; and its +history--beginning with the Argonautic expedition and ending with the +Russian conquest--is more romantic and eventful than that of any other +mountain-range in the world. + +Geographically, the Caucasus forms a boundary-line between South-eastern +Europe and Western Asia, but it is not simply a geographical boundary, +marked on the map with a red line and having no other existence: it is a +huge natural barrier seven hundred miles in length and ten thousand feet +in average height, across which, in the course of unnumbered centuries, +man has never been able to find more than two practicable passes, the +Gorge of Dariel and the Iron Gate of Derbend. Beginning at the Straits of +Kertch, opposite the Crimea on the Black Sea, the range trends in a +south-easterly direction across the whole Caucasian isthmus, terminating +on the coast of the Caspian near the half-Russian, half-Persian city of +Baku. Its entire length, measured along the crest of the central ridge, +does not probably exceed seven hundred miles, but for that distance it is +literally one unbroken wall of rock, never falling below eight thousand +feet, and rising in places to heights of sixteen and eighteen thousand, +crowned with glaciers and eternal snow. No other country which I have ever +seen presents in an equally limited area such diversities of climate, +scenery and vegetation as does the isthmus of the Caucasus. On the +northern side of its white jagged backbone lies the barren +wandering-ground of the Nogai Tatars--illimitable steppes, where for +hundreds of miles the weary eye sees in summer only a parched waste of dry +steppe-grass, and in winter an ocean of snow, dotted here and there by the +herds and the black tents of nomadic Mongols. But cross the range from +north to south and the whole face of Nature is changed. From a boundless +steppe you come suddenly into a series of shallow fertile valleys +blossoming with flowers, green with vine-tangled forests, sunny and warm +as the south of France. Sheltered by its rampart of mountains from the +cold northern winds, vegetation here assumes an almost tropical +luxuriance. Prunes, figs, olives and pomegranates grow almost without +cultivation in the open air; the magnificent forests of elm, oak, laurel, +Colchian poplar and walnut are festooned with blossoming vines; and in +autumn the sunny hillsides of Georgia and Mingrelia are fairly purple with +vineyards of ripening grapes. But climate is here only a question of +altitude. Out of these semi-tropical valleys you may climb in a few hours +to the limit of vegetable life, and eat your supper, if you feel so +disposed, on the slow-moving ice of a glacier. + +High up among the peaks of this great Caucasian range lives, and has lived +for centuries, one of the most interesting and remarkable peoples of +modern times--a people which is interesting and remarkable not only on +account of the indomitable bravery with which it defended its +mountain-home for two thousand years against all comers, but on account +of its originality, its peculiar social and political organization and its +innate intellectual capacity. I call it a "people" rather than a race, +because it comprises representatives of many races, and yet belongs, as a +whole, to none of them. It is a collection of miscellaneous elements. The +Caucasian range may be regarded for all ethnological purposes as a great +mountainous island in the sea of human history, and on that island now +live together the surviving Robinson Crusoes of a score of shipwrecked +states and nationalities, the fugitive mutineers of a hundred tribal +Bountys. Army after army has gone to pieces in the course of the last four +thousand years upon that Titanic reef; people after people has been driven +up into its wild ravines by successive waves of migration from the south +and east; band after band of deserters, fugitives and mutineers has sought +shelter there from the storms, perils and hardships of war. Almost every +nation in Europe has at one time or another crossed, passed by or dwelt +near this great Caucasian range, and each has contributed in turn its +quota to the heterogeneous population of the mountain-valleys. The +Indo-Germanic tribes as they migrated westward from Central Asia left +there a few wearied and dissatisfied stragglers; their number was +increased by deserters from the Greek and Roman armies of Alexander the +Great and Pompey; the Mongols under Tamerlane, as they marched through +Daghestan, added a few more; the Arabs who overran the country in the +eighth century established military colonies in the mountains, which +gradually blended with the previous inhabitants; European crusaders, +wandering back from the Holy Land, stopped there to rest, and never +resumed their journey; and finally, the oppressed and persecuted of all +the neighboring nations--Jews, Georgians, Armenians and Tatars--fled to +these rugged, inaccessible mountains as to a city of refuge where they +might live and worship their gods in peace. In course of time these +innumerable fragments of perhaps a hundred different tribes and +nationalities, united only by the bond of a common interest, blended into +one people and became known to their lowland neighbors as _Gortze_, or +"mountaineers." From a mere assemblage of stragglers, fugitives and +vagabonds they developed in the course of four or five hundred years into +a brave, hardy, self-reliant people, and as early as the eighth century +they had established in the mountains of Daghestan a large number of +so-called _volnea obshesve_, or "free societies," governed by elective +franchise, without any distinction of birth or rank. After this time they +were never conquered. Both the Turks and the Persians at different periods +held the nominal sovereignty of the country, but, so far as the +mountaineers were concerned, it was only nominal. Army after army was sent +against them, only to return broken and defeated, until at last among the +Persians it passed into a proverb, "If the shah becomes too proud, let him +make war on the mountaineers of the Caucasus." In 1801 these hitherto +unconquered highlanders came into conflict with the resistless power of +Russia, and after a desperate struggle of fifty-eight years they were +finally subdued and the Caucasus became a Russian province. + +At the present time the mountaineers as a class, from the Circassians of +the Black Sea coast to the Lesghians of the Caspian, may be roughly +described as a fierce, hardy, liberty-loving people, whose component +members have descended from ancestors of widely different origin, and are +separable into tribes or clans of very different outward appearance, but +nevertheless alike in all the characteristics which grow out of and depend +upon topographical environment. They number altogether about a million and +a half, and are settled in little isolated stone villages throughout the +whole extent of the range from the Black Sea to the Caspian at heights +varying from three to nine thousand feet. They maintain themselves chiefly +by pasturing sheep upon the mountains and cultivating a little wheat, +millet and Indian corn in the valleys; and before the Russian conquest +they were in the habit of eking out this scanty subsistence from time to +time by plundering raids into the rich neighboring lowlands of Kakhetia +and Georgia. In religion they are nearly all Mohammedans, the Arabs having +overrun the country and introduced the faith of Islam as early as the +eighth century. In the more remote and inaccessible parts of the Eastern +Caucasus there still remain a few isolated _aouls_ ("villages") of +idolaters; in Daghestan there are four or five thousand Jews, who, +although they have lost their language and their national character, still +cling to their religion; and among the high peaks of Toochetia is settled +a tribe of Christians said to be the descendants of a band of mediæval +crusaders. But these are exceptions: ninety-nine one-hundredths of the +mountaineers are Mohammedans of the fiercest, most intolerant type. + +The languages and dialects spoken by the different tribes of this +heterogeneous population are more than thirty in number, two-thirds of +them being in the eastern end of the range, where the ethnological +diversity of the people is most marked. So circumscribed and clearly +defined are the limits of many of these languages that in some parts of +the Eastern Caucasus it is possible to ride through three or four +widely-different linguistic areas in a single day. Languages spoken by +only twelve or fifteen settlements are comparatively common; and in +South-western Daghestan there is an isolated village of less than fifty +houses--the aoul of Innookh--which has a dialect of its own not spoken or +understood, so far as has yet been ascertained, by any other portion of +the whole Caucasian population. None of these mountain-languages have ever +been written, but the early introduction of the Arabic supplied to a great +extent this deficiency. Almost every settlement has its _mullah_ or +_kadi_, whose religious or judicial duties make it necessary for him to +know how to read and write the language of the Koran, and when called upon +to do so he acts for his fellow-townsmen in the capacity of amanuensis or +scribe. Since 1860 the eminent Russian philologist General Usler has +invented alphabets and compiled grammars for six of the principal +Caucasian languages, and the latter are now taught in all the government +schools established under the auspices of the Russian mountain +administration at Vladi Kavkaz, Timour Khan, Shoura and Groznoi. + +In government the Caucasian highlanders acknowledged previous to the +Russian conquest no general head, each separate tribe or community having +developed for itself such system of polity as was most in accordance with +the needs and temperament of its component members. These systems were of +almost all conceivable kinds, from the absolute hereditary monarchies of +the Arab khans to the free communities or simple republics of Southern +Daghestan. In the former the ruler could take the life of a subject with +impunity to gratify a mere caprice, while in the latter a subject who +considered himself aggrieved by a decision of the ruler could appeal to +the general assembly, which had power to annul the decree and even to +change the chief magistrate. Since the Russian conquest the mountaineers +have altered to some extent both their forms of government and their mode +of life. Blood-revenge and plundering raids into the valley of Georgia +have nearly ceased; tribal rulers in most parts of the mountains have +given place to Russian _ispravniks_; and the rude and archaic systems of +customary law which prevailed everywhere previous to 1860 are being slowly +supplanted by the less summary but juster processes of European +jurisprudence. Such, in rapid and general outline, are the past history +and the present condition of the Caucasian mountaineers. + +Of course, the life, customs and social organization of a people who +originated in the peculiar way which I have described, and who have lived +for centuries in almost complete isolation from all the rest of the world, +must present many strange and archaic features. In the secluded valleys of +the Eastern Caucasus the modern traveller may study a state of society +which existed in England before the Norman Conquest, and see in full +operation customs and legal observances which have been obsolete +everywhere else in Europe for a thousand years. But it is to the +literature of these people rather than to their life or their customs that +I wish now particularly to call attention. I have said that they are +remarkable for originality and innate intellectual capacity, and I shall +endeavor to make good my assertion by presenting some specimens of their +songs, fables, riddles, proverbs, burlesques and popular tales. Living as +they do on the boundary-line between Europe and Asia, made up as they are +of many diverse races, Aryan, Turanian and Semitic, they inherit all the +traditionary lore of two continents, and hand down from generation to +generation the fanciful tales of the East mingled with the humorous +stories, the witty anecdotes and the practical proverbs of the West. You +may hear to-day in almost any Caucasian aoul didactic fables from the +Sanscrit of the _Hitopadesa_, anecdotes from the _Gulistan_ of the Persian +poet Saadi, old jokes from the Grecian jest-book of Hierocles, and +humorous exaggerations which you would feel certain must have originated +west of the Mississippi River. I heard one night in a lonely +mountain-village in the Eastern Caucasus from the lips of a Daghestan +mountaineer a humorous story which had been told me less than a year +before by a student of the Western Reserve College at Hudson, Ohio, and +which I had supposed to be an invention of the mirth-loving sophomores of +that institution. + +But the literature which the Caucasian mountaineers have inherited, and +which they share with all the Semitic and Indo-European races, is not so +deserving of notice as the literature which they have themselves +invented--the stories, songs, anecdotes and burlesques which bear the +peculiar impress of their own character. I shall endeavor, therefore, in +giving specimens of Caucasian folk-lore, to confine myself to stories, +songs and proverbs which are peculiar to the mountaineers themselves, or +which have been worked over and modified to accord with Caucasian tastes +and standards. It will be seen that I use the word "literature" in the +widest possible sense, to include not only what is commonly called +folk-lore, but also oaths, greetings, speeches, prayers and all other +forms of mental expression which in anyway illustrate character. + +The translations which I shall give have all been made from the original +tongues through the Russian. Although I visited the Caucasus in 1870, and +rode hundreds of miles on horseback through its wild gloomy ravines, +familiarizing myself with the life and customs of its people, I did not +acquire any of the mountain-languages so that I could translate from them +directly; neither did I personally collect the proverbs, stories and songs +which I here present. I am indebted for most of them to General Usler, to +Prince Djordjadze--with whom I crossed Daghestan--and to the Russian +mountain administration at Tiflis. All that I have done is to translate +them from the Russian, and set them in order, with such comments and +explanatory notes as they seem to require and as my Caucasian experience +enables me to furnish. + +I will begin with Caucasian greetings and curses. The etiquette of +salutation in the Caucasus is extremely elaborate and ceremonious. It does +not by any means satisfy all the requirements of perfect courtesy to ask a +mountaineer how he is, or how his health is, or how he does. You must +inquire minutely into the details of his domestic economy, manifest the +liveliest interest in the growth of his crops and the welfare of his +sheep, and even express a cordial hope that his house is in a good state +of repair and his horses and cattle properly protected from any possible +inclemency of weather. Furthermore, you must always adapt your greeting to +time, place and circumstances, and be prepared to improvise a new, +graceful and appropriate salutation to meet any extraordinary exigence. In +the morning a mountaineer greets another with "May your morning be +bright!" to which the prompt rejoinder is, "And may a sunny day never pass +you by!" A guest he welcomes with "May your coming bring joy!" and the +guest replies, "May a blessing rest on your house!" To one about to +travel the appropriate greeting is, "May God make straight your road!" to +one returning from a journey, "May health and strength come back with +rest!" to a newly-married couple, "May you have sons like the father and +daughters like the mother!" and to one who has lost a friend, "May God +give you what he did not live to enjoy!" Among other salutations in +frequent use are, "May God make you glad!" "May your sheep be multiplied!" +"May you blossom like a garden!" "May your hearth-fire never be put out!" +and "May God give you the good that you expect not!" + +The curses of the Caucasus are as bitter and vindictive as its greetings +are courteous and kind-hearted. I have often heard it said by the Persians +and Tatars who live along the Lower Volga that there is no language to +swear in like the Russian; and I must admit that they illustrated and +proved their assertion when occasion offered in the most fluent and +incontrovertible manner; but I am convinced, after having heard the curses +of experts in all parts of the East, that for variety, ingenuity and force +the profanity of the Caucasian mountaineers is unsurpassed. They are by no +means satisfied with damning their adversary's soul after the vulgar +manner of the Anglo-Saxon, but invoke the direst calamities upon his body +also; as, for example, "May the flesh be stripped from your face!" "May +your heart take fire!" "May eagles drink your eyes!" "May your name be +written on a stone!" (_i.e._ a tombstone); "May the shadow of an owl fall +on your house!" (this, owing probably to the rarity of its occurrence, is +regarded as a fatal omen); "May your hearth-fire be put out!" "May you be +struck with a hot bullet!" "May your mother's milk come with shame!" "May +you be laid on a ladder!" (alluding to the Caucasian custom of using a +ladder as a bier); "May a black day come upon your house!" "May the earth +swallow you!" "May you stand before God with a blackened face!" "Break +through into hell!" (_i.e._ through the bridge of Al Sirat); "May you be +drowned in blood!" Besides these curses, all of which are uttered in +anger, the mountaineers have a number of milder imprecatory expressions +which they use merely to give additional force or emphasis to a statement. +A man, for instance, will exclaim to another, "Oh, may your mother die! +what a superb horse you have there!" or, "May I eat all your diseases if I +didn't pay twenty-five _abaz_ for that _kinjal_ ("dagger") in Tiflis!" The +curious expression, "May your mother die!" however malevolent it may sound +to Occidental ears, has in the Caucasus no offensive significance. It is a +mere rhetorical exclamation-point to express astonishment or to fortify a +dubious statement. The graphic curse, "May I eat all your diseases!" is +precisely analogous to the American boy's "I hope to die." Generally +speaking, the mountaineers use angry imprecations and personal abuse of +all kinds sparingly. Instead of standing and cursing one another like +enraged Billingsgate fish-women, they promptly cut the Gordian knot of +their misunderstanding with their long, double-edged daggers, and +presently one of them is carried away on a ladder. When, as a Caucasian +proverb asserts, "It is only a step from the bad word to the kinjal," even +an angry man is apt to think twice before he curses once. + +It is difficult to select from the proverbs of the Caucasian mountaineers, +numerous as they are, any which are certainly and peculiarly their own. +They inherit the proverbial philosophy of all the Aryan and Semitic races, +and for the most part merely repeat with slight variations the well-worn +saws of the English, the Germans, the Russians, the Arabs and the French. +I will give, however, a few specimens which I have not been able to find +in modern collections, and which are probably of native invention. It will +be noticed that they are all more remarkable for force and for a peculiar +grim, sardonic humor than for delicacy of wit or grace of expression. +Instead of neatly running a subject through with the keen flashing rapier +of a witty analogy, as a Spaniard would do, the Caucasian mountaineer +roughly knocks it down with the first proverbial club which comes to +hand; and the knottier and more crooked the weapon the better pleased he +seems to be with the result. Whether the work in hand be the smiting of a +rock or the crushing of a butterfly, he swings high overhead the Hammer of +Thor. Compare, for example, the French and the Caucasian methods of +expressing the fact that the consequences of bad advice fall on the +advised and not on the adviser. The Frenchman is satisfied to simply state +the obvious truism that advisers are not payers, but the mountaineer, with +forcible and graphic imagery, declares that "He who instructs how to jump +does not tear his mouth, but he who jumps breaks his legs." Again: the +German has in his proverbial storehouse no more vivid illustration of the +wilfulness of luck than the saying that "A lucky man's hens lay eggs with +double yolks;" but this is altogether too common and natural a phenomenon +to satisfy the mountaineer's conception of the power of luck; so he coolly +knocks the subject flat with the audacious hyperbole, "A lucky man's horse +and mare both have colts." Fortune and misfortune present themselves to +the German mind as two buckets in a well; but to the Caucasian mountaineer +"Fortune is like a cock's tail on a windy day" (_i.e.,_ first on one side +and then on the other). The Danes assert guardedly that "He loses least in +a quarrel who controls his tongue;" but the mountaineer cries out boldly +and emphatically, "Hold your tongue and you will save your head;" and in +order that the warning may not be forgotten, he inserts it as a sort of +proverbial chorus at the end of every paragraph in his oldest code of +written law. It is not often that a proverb rises to such dignity and +importance as to become part of the legal literature of a country; and the +fact that this proverb should have been chosen from a thousand others, and +repeated twenty or thirty times in a brief code of criminal law, is very +significant of the character of the people. + +Caucasian proverbs rarely deal with verbal abstractions, personified +virtues or vague intellectual generalizations. They present their ideas in +hard, sharp-edged crystals rather than in weak verbal solutions, and +their similes, metaphors and analogies are as distinct, clear-cut and +tangible as it is possible to make them. The German proverb, "He who +grasps too much lets much fall," would die a natural death in the Caucasus +in a week, because it defies what Tyndall calls "mental presentation:" it +is not pictorial enough; but let its spirit take on a Caucasian body, +introduce it to the world as "You can't hold two watermelons in one hand," +and it becomes immortal. Vivid imagery is perhaps the most marked +characteristic of Caucasian proverbs. Wit, wisdom and grace may all +occasionally be dispensed with, but pictorial effect, the possibility of +clear mental presentation, is a _sine qua non_. Aiming primarily at this, +the mountaineer says of an impudent man, "He has as much shame as an egg +has hair;" of a garrulous one, "He has no bone in his tongue" or "His +tongue is always wet;" of a spendthrift, "Water does not stand on a +hillside;" and of a noble family in reduced circumstances, "It is a +decayed rag, but it is silk." All these metaphors are clear, vivid and +forcible, and the list of such proverbs might be almost indefinitely +extended. With all their vividness of imagery, however, Caucasian sayings +are sometimes as mysterious and unintelligible as the darkest utterances +of the Delphian Oracle. Take, by way of illustration, the enigmatical +proverb, "He lets his hasty-pudding stand over night, hoping that it will +learn to talk." Only the rarest penetration would discover in this +seemingly absurd statement a satire upon the man who has a disagreeable +confession to make or an unpleasant message to deliver, and who puts it +off until to-morrow, hoping that the duty will then be easier of +performance. Again: what would a West European make of such a proverb as +the following: "If I had known that my father was going to die, I would +have traded him off for a cucumber"? Our English cousins, with their +characteristic adherence to facts as literally stated, would very likely +cite it as a shocking illustration of the filial irreverence and +ingratitude of Caucasian children; but an American, more accustomed to +the rough humor of grotesque statement, would see at once that it was not +to be "taken for cash," and would understand and appreciate its force when +he found its meaning to be that it is better to dispose of a perishable +article at half price than to lose it altogether--better to sell your +father for a cucumber than have him die on your hands. + +The cruel, cynical, revengeful side of the mountaineer's character finds +expression in the proverbs, "A cut-off head will never ache;" "Crush the +head, and the tail will die of itself;" "If you can't find a Lak [a member +of a generally-detested tribe], hammer the place where one sat;" "What +business has a blind man with a beautiful wife?" "The serpent never +forgets who cut off his tail, nor the father who killed his son." The +lights and shades of polygamous life appear in the sharply-contrasted +proverbs, "He who has two wives enjoys a perpetual honeymoon," and "He who +has two wives doesn't need cats and dogs;" the bad consequences of divided +responsibility are indicated by the proverb, "If there are too many +shepherds the sheep die;" and the value of a good shepherd is stated as +tersely and forcibly as it well could be in the declaration that "A good +shepherd will get cheese from a he-goat." + +Caucasian proverbs, however, are not all as rude, unpolished and grotesque +as most of those above quoted. Some of them are simple, noble and +dignified, the undistorted outcome of the higher and better traits of the +mountaineer's character. Among such are, "Dogs bark at the moon, but the +moon does not therefore fall upon the earth;" "Blind eyes are a +misfortune, but a blind heart is worse;" "He who weeps from the soul weeps +not tears, but blood;" "Generous words are often better than a generous +hand;" "A guest, a man from God;" and finally the really noble proverb, +"Heroism is patience for one moment more:" no words could better express +the steady courage, the unconquerable fortitude, the proud, silent +endurance of a true Caucasian Highlander. At all times and under all +circumstances, in pain, in peril and in the hour of death, he holds with +unshakable courage to his manhood and his purpose. Die he will, but yield +never. The desperate fifty years' struggle of the Caucasian mountaineers +with the bravest armies and ablest commanders of Russia is only a long, +blood-illuminated commentary upon this one proverb. + +In order that the reader may get a clear idea of the scope and general +character of Caucasian proverbial literature, I will give without further +comment a few selections from the current sayings of the Laks, the +Chechenses, the Abkhazians, the Koorintzes and the Avars: "Don't spit into +a well: you may have to drink out of it;" "A fish would talk if his mouth +were not full of water;" "Bread doesn't run after the belly, but the belly +after bread;" "A rich man wherever he goes finds a feast--a poor fellow, +although he goes to a feast, finds trouble;" "Stick to the old road and +your father's friends;" "Your body is pledged to pay for your sins;" +"Burial is the only medicine for the dead;" "Swift water never gets to the +sea;" "With good neighbors you can marry off even your blind daughter;" +"You can't get sugar out of every stone;" "Out of a hawk's nest comes a +hawk;" "A fat ox and a rotten shroud are good for nothing;" "There are +seven tastes as to a man's dress, but only one as to his stature" (_i.e.,_ +his own); "A good head will find itself a hat;" "At the attack of the wolf +the ass shuts his eyes;" "If you are sweet to others, they will swallow +you--if bitter, they will spit you out;" "Go where you will, lift up any +stone and you will find a Lak under it;" "He is like a hen that wants to +lay an egg, and can't;" "He who is sated cannot understand the hungry;" "A +barking dog soon grows old;" "A quiet cat eats a big lump of fat;" "If +water bars your road, be a fish--if cliffs, a mountain-goat." + +Closely allied to Caucasian proverbs in spirit and in rough, grotesque +humor are Caucasian anecdotes, of which I have space for only a few +characteristic specimens. They are almost invariably short, terse and +pithy, and would prove, even in the absence of all other evidence, that +these fierce, stern, unyielding mountaineers have the keenest possible +appreciation of humor, and that in the quick perception and hearty +enjoyment of pure absurdity they come nearer to Americans than do perhaps +any of the West European races. One of the following anecdotes, "The Big +Turnip," I have seen in American newspapers within a year, and all of them +bear a greater or less resemblance, both in spirit and form, to American +stories. I will begin with an anecdote of the mullah Nazr-Eddin, a +mythical, or at any rate an historically unknown, individual, whose +personality the mountaineers use as a sort of peg upon which to hang all +the floating jokes and absurd stories which they from time to time hear or +invent, just as Americans use the traditional Irishman to give a modern +stamp to a joke which perhaps is as old as the Pyramids. The mountaineers +originally borrowed this lay figure of Nazr-Eddin from the Turks, but they +have clothed it in an entirely new suit of blunders, witticisms and +absurdities of their own manufacture. + +_Nazr-Eddin's Greetings._--Nazr-Eddin once upon a time, while travelling, +came upon some people digging a grave. "May peace be with you!" said he as +he stopped before them, "and may the blessing of God be upon your labor!" +The gravediggers, enraged, seized shovels and picks and fell upon +Nazr-Eddin and began to beat him. "What have I done to you?" he asked in +affright: "what do you beat me for?"--"When you saw us," replied the +gravediggers, "you should have held up your arms and prayed for the +deceased."--"The instruction which you have given me I will remember," +said Nazr-Eddin, and went on his way. Presently he met a large company of +young people returning in great merriment from a wedding, dancing and +playing on drums and fifes. As he approached them he raised his hands +toward heaven and began to pray for the soul of the deceased. At this all +the young men fell upon him in great anger and gave him another awful +beating. "Can't you see," they cried, "that the prince's son has just +been married, and that this is the wedding-party? Under such +circumstances you should have put your hat under your arm and begun to +shout and dance."--"The next time I will remember," said Nazr-Eddin, and +went on. Suddenly and unexpectedly he came upon a hunter who was creeping +cautiously and silently up to a hare. Putting his hat under his arm, +Nazr-Eddin began to dance, jump and shout so furiously that of course the +hare was frightened away. The hunter, enraged at this interference, +pounded Nazr-Eddin with his gun until he could hardly walk. "What would +you have me do?" cried the mullah.--"Under such circumstances," replied +the hunter, "you should have taken off your hat and crept up cautiously, +now stooping down, now rising up."--"That I will remember," said +Nazr-Eddin, and went on. At a little distance he came upon a flock of +sheep, and, according to his last instructions, he crept cautiously up to +them, now stooping down out of sight, and then rising up, and so +frightened the sheep that they all ran away. Upon this the shepherds gave +him another tremendous beating. There was not a misfortune that did not +come upon Nazr-Eddin on account of his miserable blunders. + +_The Kettle that Died._--The mullah Nazr-Eddin once went to a neighbor to +borrow a kettle. In the course of a week he returned, bringing the large +kettle which he had borrowed, and another, a small one. "What is this?" +inquired the owner, pointing to the small kettle.--"Your kettle has given +birth," replied the mullah, "and that is its offspring." Without any +further question or explanation the owner took both kettles, and the +mullah returned to his home. In course of time the mullah again appeared, +and again borrowed his neighbor's kettle, which the latter gave him this +time with great readiness. A week passed, a month, two months, three +months, but no kettle; and at last the owner went to the mullah and asked +for it. "Your kettle is dead," said the mullah.--"Dead!" exclaimed the +owner: "do kettles die?"--"Certainly," replied the mullah. "If your kettle +could give birth, it could also die; and, what is more," he added, "it +died in giving birth." The owner, not wishing to make himself a +laughing-stock among the people, closed up the kettle business and left. + +_The Big Turnip._--Two men were once walking together and talking. One +said, "My father raised such an enormous turnip once that he used the top +of it to thresh wheat upon, and when it was ripe had to dig it out of the +ground."--"My father," said the other, "ordered such an enormous kettle +made once that the forty workmen who made it all had room to sit on the +inside and work at the same time; and they were a year in finishing +it."--"Yes," said the first, "but what did your father want such a big +kettle for?"--"Probably to boil your father's turnip in," was the reply. + +_Nazr-Eddin's One-Legged Goose._--The mullah Nazr-Eddin was once carrying +to the khan as a gift a roasted goose. Becoming hungry on the road, he +pulled off one of the goose's legs and ate it. "Where is the other leg?" +inquired the khan when the goose was presented.--"Our geese have only one +leg," answered the mullah.--"How so?" demanded the khan.--"If you don't +believe it, look there," said the mullah, pointing to a flock of geese +which had just come out of the water, and were all standing on one leg. +The khan threw a stick at them and they all ran away. "There!" exclaimed +the khan, "they all have two legs."--"That's not surprising," said the +mullah: "if somebody should throw such a club as that at you, you might +get four legs." The khan gave the mullah a new coat and sent him home. + +_Why Blind Men should Carry Lanterns at Night._--A blind man in Khoota (an +East Caucasian village) came back from the river one night bringing a +pitcher of water and carrying in one hand a lighted lantern. Some one, +meeting him, said, "You're blind: it's all the same to you whether it's +day or night. Of what use to you is a lantern?"--"I don't carry the +lantern in order to see the road," replied the blind man, "but to keep +some fool like you from running against me and breaking my pitcher." + +_The Woman who was Afraid of being Kissed._--A man was once walking along +one road and a woman along another. The roads finally united, and the man +and woman, reaching the junction at the same time, walked on from there +together. The man was carrying a large iron kettle on his back; in one +hand he held by the legs a live chicken, in the other a cane; and he was +leading a goat. Just as they were coming to a deep dark ravine, the woman +said to the man, "I am afraid to go through that ravine with you: it is a +lonely place, and you might overpower me and kiss me by force."--"If you +were afraid of that," said the man, "you shouldn't have walked with me at +all: how can I possibly overpower you and kiss you by force when I have +this great iron kettle on my back, a cane in one hand and a live chicken +in the other, and am leading this goat? I might as well be tied hand and +foot."--"Yes," replied the woman, "but if you should stick your cane into +the ground and tie the goat to it, and turn the kettle bottom side up, and +put the chicken under it, _then_ you might wickedly kiss me in spite of my +resistance."--"Success to thy ingenuity, O woman!" said the rejoicing man +to himself: "I should never have thought of such expedients." And when +they came to the ravine he stuck his cane into the ground and tied the +goat to it, gave the chicken to the woman, saying, "Hold it while I cut +some grass for the goat," and then, lowering the kettle from his +shoulders, imprisoned the fowl under it, and wickedly kissed the woman, as +she was afraid he would. + +It would be easy to multiply illustrations of Caucasian wit and humor, but +the above anecdotes are fairly representative, and must suffice. I will +close this paper with two specimens of mountain satire--"The Stingy +Mullah" and "An Eye for an Eye." + +_The Stingy Mullah._--The mullah of a certain village, who was noted for +his avarice and stinginess, happened one day in crossing a narrow bridge +to fall into the river. As he could not swim, he sank for a moment out of +sight, and then coming to the surface floated down the stream, struggling +and yelling for help. A passer-by ran to the bank, and stretching out his +arm shouted to the mullah, "Give me your hand! give me your hand!" but the +mullah thrust both hands as far as possible under water and continued to +yell. Another man, who knew the mullah better, ran to the bank lower down +and leaning over the water cried to him, "Here! take my hand! take my +hand!" And the mullah, grasping it eagerly, was drawn out of the river. He +was always ready to _take_, but would not _give_ even so much as his hand +to save his life. + +The following clever bit of satire was probably invented by an inhabitant +of one of the Arab khanates as a means of getting even with a ruler who +had wronged him by an absurdly unjust decision. The khans of the Eastern +Caucasus previous to the Russian conquest had almost unlimited power over +the lives and persons of their subjects, and their decrees, however +unreasonable and unfair they might be, were enforced without appeal and +with inexorable severity. A mountaineer therefore in Avaria or Koomookha +who considered himself aggrieved by a decision of his khan, and who dared +not complain openly, could relieve his outraged feelings only by inventing +and setting afloat an anonymous pasquinade. Some of these short personal +satires are very clever pieces of literary vengeance. + +_An Eye for an Eye._--A robber one night broke into the house of a poor +Lesghian in search of plunder. While groping around in the dark he +accidentally put out one of his eyes by running against a nail which the +Lesghian had driven into the wall to hang clothes upon. On the following +morning the robber went to the khan and complained that this Lesghian had +driven a nail into the wall of his house in such a manner as to put out +one of his (the robber's) eyes, and for this injury he demanded redress. +The khan sent for the Lesghian and inquired why he had driven this nail, +and if he had not done it on purpose to put out the robber's eye. The +Lesghian explained that he needed the nail to hang clothes upon, and that +he had driven it into the wall for that purpose and no other. The khan, +however, declared that the law demanded an eye for an eye; and since he +had been instrumental in putting out the robber's eye, it would be +necessary to put out one of his eyes to satisfy the claims of justice. +"Your Excellency," replied the poor Lesghian, "I am a tailor. I need both +my eyes in order to carry on my business and obtain the necessaries of +life; but I know a man who is a gunsmith: he uses only one eye to squint +along his gun-barrels, so that the other is of no particular service to +him. Be so just, O khan! as to order one of his eyes to be put out and +spare mine." The khan said, "Very well," and, sending for the gunsmith, +explained to him the situation of affairs. "I also need both eyes," +objected the gunsmith, "because I have to look on both sides of a +gun-barrel in order to tell whether it is straight or not; but near me +there lives a man who is a musician. When he plays on the _zoorna_ [a +Caucasian fife] he shuts both eyes; so his trade won't suffer even if he +lose his eyesight entirely. Be so just, O khan! as to order one of his +eyes to be put out and spare mine." To this the khan also agreed, and sent +for the musician. The fifer admitted that he shut both eyes when he played +his fife; whereupon the khan ordered one of them to be put out, and +declared that he only left him the other as a proof of the great mercy, +justice and forbearance of khans. + +This little bit of burlesque, short as it is, is full of delicate +satirical touches. The prompt attention given to the complaint of the +robber, who of course has no rights whatever in the premises; the +readiness of the khan to infer malice on the part of the plundered +Lesghian; his unique conception of the _lex talionis_ as a law which may +be satisfied with anybody's eye; the cool assumption that because the +unfortunate fifer occasionally _shuts_ both eyes he ought in strict +justice to _lose_ both eyes, and should be duly grateful to the merciful +khan for permitting him to keep one of them,--are all the fine and skilful +touches of a bright wit and a humorous fancy. + +GEORGE KENNAN. + + + + +OF BARBARA HICKS. + +I. + + +When I looked under her bonnet I perceived a face that was more to my mind +than any face I had ever before seen. Perhaps it was wrong for me to think +so much about a face; but it was borne in upon me that such a well-favored +countenance must of necessity come from a still more well-favored manner +of life; for a face, to me, is only the reflex of the inner workings of +Life, and to this day I doubt if I could sit down and describe fully the +shape or moulding of any one particular feature of that face, for it was +not the _face_, but the expression that formed it, that inclined me toward +it. I was a stranger in the place, and but newly come, and my name had +forerun me in kindly writings from many friends, so that I may often have +been mentioned in households where I had never been seen. But I went to +Barbara Hicks's father, and informed him how considerably my mind inclined +me toward his daughter, and that I would, if he permitted me, ask to be +better known unto her. "Thee is over young to think of marriage, friend +Biddle," said he. + +I felt a burning sensation mounting to my face, and I could only say in +reply, "Verily. But the heart of youth is lonely--more so than the heart +of age, and it looks upon all Nature for companionship." + +"Thy mingling with the world's people has made thee glib of tongue," said +he, eyeing me, and smiling as much as was seemly. + +"But I am not of the world's people, if thee means the flaunters of +various colors and loud-voiced nothings. And I do not think of +marriage--nay, will not--until thy daughter has taken me into full +acquaintanceship and approbation. Thee knows I am not advanced in the +world's wealth, and that I am but a beginner in manhood; thee knows that I +came here and set up as a lumberman; thee may or may not care to have thy +daughter to know me." + +"I care as much as beseems any father to bethink him of his child's +welfare. Come with me, Samuel Biddle." + +So he fetched me into the sizable sunny kitchen where Barbara was +preparing vegetables for the dinner. + +"This is friend Samuel Biddle," said he. + +"I am pleased to see thee," said she, "and if thee waits until I dry my +fingers I will shake hands with thee." + +Youth is ever impetuous. In my haste or foolish confusion I took her hand +as it was, and had the mortified pride of seeing a long potato-paring +hanging about my thumb when she had resumed her occupation. + +"Thee is overly quick," said her father, rather displeased, I thought. + +"Thee must pardon me: it is a habit I have." + +"Habits are bad things to have." + +"Thank thee," I said. + +I know that unnecessary words are wholly unlooked for amongst us Friends, +and that description of any part of the Lord's works is as unnecessary and +carries with it as little of what we mean as can be. Incidents are greater +than description, as the telling to me how a tree looked when it was in +full foliage is not near so incisive as that the tree fell with a great +crash during a storm in the night. Therefore it would be using needless +language, which a Friend's discipline enjoins him to beware of, for me to +say how friend Hicks's daughter might have seemed to those to whom I +wished to impart how she seemed to me; rather let some various incidents +provide their estimate of her. That one of the world's people might say +she was pleasant to look upon I have no doubt; but to me she was not +beautiful: she was only what I would have had her to be; and that which is +entirely as we would have it to be is never beautiful: it is too near us +to be that. I cared well to be with her while her father bided near and +talked to me of the community I had left, and which had given me my +certificate to friend Hicks's Meeting. And yet I fear me that I made +several dubious replies to his many trite questions as we sat on the porch +in the quiet of the evening, for friend Barbara's eyes were upon me, and +she had a little dint in either cheek which affected me amazingly. (I have +heard such dints called dimples--by whom, I cannot say.) She had a most +extraordinary way of miscomprehending all that I said, and frequently +appealing to her father; so I perforce must repeat all that I had before +said, which often forced me into much confusion of words, which seemed to +make her dints more deep than usual. Then the quiet of her home after a +busy day of traffic and bargaining and buying and selling was infinitely +composing to my mind. There were trees all about the house, and some +orderly flowers--more of the herb species, I think, than the decorative. +There were faint sounds coming from distant places, and when a great many +stars were come and the wind waved the branches of the trees, the stars +looked, as one might say, like tiny musical lamps set among the leaves, +they seemed so many and so bright there, and the distant sounds so +pleasant. I am not, as a usual thing, a noticing man, but while friend +Hicks's daughter was within a few feet of me it seemed I noticed +everything with considerable acuteness. I think this may be accounted for +on the score that I was trying to notice something which failed me as I +searched for it; and that was, if I were to Barbara what Barbara was to +me. She was too friendly, and yet I would have her friendly: she was too +cheerful, and yet I would have her cheerful. I bethink me that I would +rather that her friendliness and cheerfulness might in a measure depend +upon me for existence. I think I came too often to friend Hicks's house, +although he understood me. + +"Thee is a most persistent young man," he said to me. + +"Does thee think too much so?" I asked. + +"Nay, friend Biddle: persistency is an excellent quality which is most +praiseworthy in youth." + +"And does thee think that persistency will gain me a wife?" + +"Thee had better depend upon thyself more than upon persistency in such an +issue," he said, with the corners of his mouth much depressed. + +"Does thee think I might venture to offer myself to thy daughter for a +husband?" + +"Nay. A husband never offers himself to his wife: the gift should be so +valuable that she would willingly exchange herself for it." + +"Will thy daughter think so?" + +"Undoubtedly." + +"May I be emboldened to ask her?" + +"Thy mind must tell thee better than my lips," he said. + +Then I watched him going down among the trees and the shadows, and I sat, +much perturbed in spirit, waiting for Barbara. When she did come I had not +one word to say. I only remember that I sat with one leg crossed over the +other, and wished I could perchance cross the right one over the left +instead of the left over the right, and yet I had not the power to do so. +I was sure my brain was playing me false, for things seemed utterly at +variance with possibilities. + +"Thee seems shaken, friend Biddle," said she. + +"Nay," I responded. + +"Thee certainly is. I trust thy business is prospering, and that thy mind +is not set too much upon any one thing." + +"Nay." + +"Can I do anything for thee?" + +"Nay." + +So I could not say one word. Friend Barbara took up her knitting, and I +saw that she was rounding the heel of a stocking; and I trust I am +truthful, if volatile, when I remember me that I wished I were her +knitting-needle. She was very quiet: her ball of yarn slipped away, +lacking proper gravitation. "My!" said she, and went and fetched it. + +"Has thee ill news from thy people?" she asked, rather restive under my +changelessness. + +"They are happily easy," said I. + +Then she was quiet. + +I bethought me that I had my hat in my hand, and would rise to put it upon +my head and say farewell, but I could not. + +"Thee does not seem so comfortable as thee might be," said she. + +"I am comfortable," I said. + +Then her yarn rolled away again. Again she said, "My!" and fetched it. + +"Is thee waiting for father?" she asked. + +"Nay," said I. + +I think she grew more restive under the silence: I arose. "Farewell," said +I. + +"Farewell," said she; and the dints in her cheeks were extreme: they were +the only dints about her, everything else being so prim and gray and +well-ordered, while these were--quite different. + +Her father came in just then. I went boldly to him. "Friend Hicks," I said +very loud, "will thee ask thy daughter to marry me?" + +"Can thee not ask?" + +"Nay: I have tried, but I fail. I never asked such a thing before, and, +belike, thee has." + +"Necessarily," said he. + +Then he asked Barbara. "Does thee quite approve friend Biddle?" asked she. + +"Necessarily," he answered as before. + +"Then, Samuel Biddle, I will be thy wife," said she. + +"Thank thee, friend Barbara," I said, and shook hands with her father. + +"Thee may shake hands with Barbara," said he. + +And I did. I fear me that she looked with a less demure look into my face +as I did so: I think she might have cared to have me hold her hand a +little longer than I did. + +But her father said, "Thee has attended to _thy_ business: now bear me out +in _mine_. What is thy income? when can I see thy father and mother?" + +It was most gratifying on next First Day to go to meeting and sit beside +friend Hicks. Far over on the women's side I think I knew which woman was +Barbara. And meeting was stiller than ever, and more like the Lord's +meaning of holiness; or it was the stillness upon my spirit that needed no +divine Feet to tread it down and say, "Peace, be still!" I had reached the +peace beyond understanding saving to those who likewise possess it: +something that was greater to me than myself had come to me and called +itself all my own. There was a most able discourse from friend Broomall +that day, but I heard so little of it I have scarce the right to criticise +some of his comments. The windows were all open, and the sound of the +breeze that flapped the casement and the far-away lowing of a cow were +very pleasant--indeed, almost grievingly pleasant. And butterflies came in +and out, and were bright and soothing. Friend Hicks was soothed and slept +profoundly all the while: he awoke and said that friend Broomall had been +most cogent in his reasoning. I, who had heard so little, said, "Verily." + +After meeting, Barbara walked home, and I walked with her. I doubt if I +ever cared for flowers and blue skies and little singing birds as I did on +that placid First Day--my own First Day! + +"Thee was most attentive during meeting, Samuel Biddle," said she. + +"Thank thee. So was thee," said I. + +"How does thee know?" + +"I fear I watched thee." + +"Thee might have been better employed." + +"How did thee know that _I_ was attentive?" + +"Like thee, I think I watched thee." + +"Thank thee, Barbara Hicks." + +"The same to thee, Samuel Biddle." + +I think all this made me most kindly disposed toward the whole world. We +reached home shortly, and Barbara poured tea for me during dinner-time, +and made it very sweet--sweeter than I had ever accustomed myself to take +tea, though I deemed it more than admirable. After dinner friend Hicks +said the flies were troublous that time of the day. We were on the porch, +friend Hicks, his daughter and myself. I suggested that he might be less +troubled did he cover his face with his handkerchief. + +"Thee is thoughtful," said he, and did so with an odd look in his face; +and I saw that he had left a small corner of the handkerchief turned over, +so that his left eye was not out of view. Barbara was in a chair next to +mine, only considerably removed, and her father was on the other side of +me. We were very quiet, and Barbara said it was a most likely day. I said +yes--that I never remembered such another day. I heard friend Hicks give +infallible tokens of sleep; I knew the flies troubled him considerably; so +I thought it well to reach over and turn the corner of his handkerchief +over his exposed eye. Then I placed my chair closer to Barbara's. + +Everybody knew we should marry each other from that First Day when I had +sat with friend Hicks and walked home with Barbara afterward. Friend +Broomall welcomed me to the Monthly Meeting with many cordial expressions, +and spoke conciliatingly of the marriage state. It was most pleasant to me +when I walked betimes to see friend Barbara, and mayhap conversed during +the entire evening with her father about the lumber business or the +tariff, or some such subject: at such times I think my mind was not within +my speech, and that as often as modesty permitted I would look toward +Barbara. I am fully cognizant that I often tried to change the current of +argument by sometimes turning and saying, "Is it not the opinion of thee, +friend Barbara?" at some trite words from her father. "Thee knows a woman +understands so little of these various themes," she would say; and I would +grow restive. Yet friend Hicks grew more well-disposed toward me, and +cared to talk much of himself to me; which always shows that a man thinks +well of thee. I bethink me that if Barbara's mother had lived some things +might have been different, and that perchance she might have claimed her +husband's attention away from me a little, and monopolized an hour or so +of his time each evening: women have a species of inner seeing which most +men lack to a great degree. And yet, to show my fuller confidence in +friend Hicks, I said to him once, "I wish thee to take charge of all my +savings and earnings. Thee knows I shall be a married man some time, and +till then I would much desire thee to care for these moneys." + +"Can thee not take proper charge of what thee has collected?" + +"Yea. But my wife's father should understand the state of my finances." + +"Set not thy mind too much upon riches, Samuel Biddle." + +"Is thy daughter not worth any mere worldly riches I could accumulate?" + +"Favor is deceitful, and a woman should never put ill thoughts into a +man." + +"Did thee not hope for money as I do when thee was young and knew the +woman who would be thy wife?" + +"Samuel Biddle, I will do this for thee, as thee asks. Thee has grown upon +me much of late, and even as I once hoped, so it is meet that thee should +hope." + +So I gave my savings and earnings into his keeping; and when I had gone +away to the lumber-regions I sent the money just the same. + +"I thank thee for trusting father so much," said Barbara when we met after +this, and quite smiled in my face. + +"Thy father trusts me beyond my trust in him in letting thee into my +keeping," I said. + +"My!" said she. And we stood together for some little time, looking at +nothing in particular. And yet it was borne in upon me that friend Barbara +rarely thought of me when I was not present with her. I doubt much that +this should have given annoyance, for why should we pry into another's +thoughts? And yet it rankled in my bosom, and I could but feel that I knew +the truth. I should have liked her to think much of me, in sooth: I should +have liked her to think of me while she knitted the stockings in the +bright leafy porch or walked among her garden-herbs, or when she was busy +over her household cares. It was the vain-glorious feeling of youth which +prompted this doubt in me, but in youth vain-glory is what wisdom is in +age. + +I bethink me that I have said "friend Barbara" at some parts of this +narration, at others simply "Barbara." I may do so again and yet again. It +is and will be just as she appeared to me at the times whereof I set it +down. + +About this time--say three months after the First Day whereof I have +spoken--a very advantageous business-offer reached me from the +lumber-regions: I was to go there for a matter of six months, and I +should, perchance, be well remunerated for the going. I turned this matter +well over in my mind before I let it slip into another mind, and when I +deemed that I was resolute in forming and retaining my own set opinion I +imparted the knowledge to friend Hicks. + +"Thee will assuredly go?" said he. + +"Verily," I replied, and looked at Barbara, and saw that she knitted just +as actively and deftly as usual. This did not please me quite, for I +should have liked to see her pause and look up with much interest +manifested. But nay: she was ever the same. I could not guard my vain +tongue as I should have done; so, forgetting even her father's presence, I +said, "Friend Barbara, is thee sorry to see me go?" + +"Thee knows what is best for thee to do," said she. + +"But is thee sorry?" + +"I am not sorry." + +"Perhaps thy mind is not inclined to me as much as I had hoped?" I said +with considerable hot-headedness. + +"Thee is to me what thee has ever been--neither more nor less." + +"Barbara!" said her father with a high-raised voice. + +She started up before him, her face very much increased in color, and she +folded her arms above her kerchief. "Father," she said, "if thee thinks I +am old enough to marry, _I_ think I am old enough to form an opinion of my +own. Had I been in Samuel Biddle's place, and an offer of change of +residence had been proffered to me, I should first have gone to the woman +who was to be my wife and told her the bearings of the case, and let her +tell her father: I should never have gone to her father first." + +She would have gone from the room, but her father called her back and bade +her resume her sewing; which she did, though I saw her neckerchief rise +and fall as though her heart were unusually perturbed beneath it. + +"Is thee grown perverse?" said her father angrily. + +"Nay," she answered. "I am my father's daughter: my will is my own." + +"This to me?" he said. + +"Friend Hicks," said I, in much pain, "I pray thee let me go: I have +unwittingly caused this. It has been because I set my mind so wilfully +upon thy daughter that I forgot all else but her, and had not the courage +to say to her what I did to thee." + +He spoke long and earnestly to me then, and when we looked around Barbara +had quietly quitted the room. + +But as I went sore of spirit down the lane on my way home she suddenly +faced me. There were marks upon her face as of the stains of drops of +water, and her eyes, I perceived, were heavy and swollen. "Will thee +forgive me, Samuel Biddle?" said she. + +"I should ask that of thee," I replied. + +"Thee knows I was headstrong," she said, taking my sleeve in her hand. + +"Not more so than I, for I made up my mind to marry thee, and, I fear me, +thought more of myself than of thee." She looked with compassion, I +thought, upon me. + +"I would be thy wife, no matter what comes," said she. + +"Feeling for me all that a wife should feel for her husband?" + +"Yea." + +Then I stood by Barbara while she wiped her eyes upon my sleeve. + +For a day or so I felt constrained at friend Hicks's house, but when I saw +his daughter the same as usual, kind and considerate--perhaps more +considerate than usual to me--I bethought me that perchance a Friend is at +times a trifle too circumspect in his words, a trifle too circumscribed in +his actions. He must be seemly in his carriage and speech, must not allow +unbecoming emotion to prey upon him, must build the body from the spirit, +and not the spirit from the body. I had tried to do all these, and yet +there were times when sensation overpowered calculation, and it would have +afforded me peace to have held friend Barbara within my arms and said many +foolish and irrelevant words, and heard such words from her. Sometimes it +seems to me that three feet apart, two feet, one, two inches, one, is too +much from one who is exceedingly much to us: the mere touch of hand to +hand, unmeaning as such a thing is, may be infinitely more than a mere +gratification of sense. Still, I would not have it understood that I am a +militant spirit, fond of what stubborn folk term "progression," nor would +I throw aside any of the rules which have been mine and those of many +generations of ancestors who followed George Fox and knew his intents to +be pure withal. + +But I was to go away East now, and my preparations were completed. + +"I hope thee will bear in mind that I shall often think of thee, friend +Barbara," I said on the last evening I should see her for a long time. + +The dints in her face looked very comely as she answered, "I shall, friend +Biddle." + +"And thee will think of me?" + +"I always do," she said. And yet this was not what I had much desired, +although I must perforce be contented. I knew, though, that distance would +only make her closer to me in spirit, and that I should be kinder to all +women for her sake--that I should pity all helplessness for her sake; for +where the mind inclineth most favorably, where gentleness and sweetness +for another is borne in upon us, we invariably associate that other with a +sort of tender helplessness which can only be made into perfect strength +by ourselves. And then I had grown to have a species of fear for Barbara: +it was as though she were greater than I, although I could reason down +this foolish ebullition in the calm knowledge that the Lord made all +beings equal. Mayhaps, had I been assured in my mind that she should not +only think of me from necessity, arising out of our long companionship +and near relation, but that she should _care_ well to call to mind my +absent form and features and voice and presence, and her own want of me, I +should have left friend Hicks's house with lithesome spirit and much +happiness. However, I thought, my being away for six months might cause +her to miss me; and we never miss what is not of great account to us. + +"May I write letters to thee, Barbara?" I asked. + +"Thee must gain father's consent," she said. + +So I asked friend Hicks--only I asked it in this way: "May Barbara write +letters to me?" + +"_I_ will write thee all that is necessary, as thee will write me: what +more is needful?" answered friend Hicks. + +So, as I went away, and it was Seventh Day, and the world seemed expecting +the morrow, when the world's peace should be personified in public praise +and a cessation from labor and earthly thought, I stood in the shadow and +took friend Hicks's hand. + +"I trust thee may be successful," said he. + +"I think any man may be successful in this world's affairs," I said. + +"There is such a thing as suffering and pain which the Lord sends." + +"Nay, friend Hicks," I said, "I am lately thinking that peradventure the +Lord sends not pain to our earthly bodies, or else that pain would be a +trial and a punishment; whereas I may look around and see dumb animals and +little singing birds die of suffering and pain; and surely the Lord +inflicts no punishment on things he cannot be displeased with. Suffering +and pain are the worms of the earth, the penalties of earthly life, which +has more of the world in it than heaven." + +"I trust thee will not be arbitrary in time, friend Biddle," said he, +almost displeased. + +But Barbara placed her hand in mine. "Samuel Biddle," said she, "may a +man's suffering and pain be a _woman_ sometimes?" + +"Belike," I answered, and could say no more. + +"Then I say I trust thee shall be free from grievousness all thy life if I +can keep thee so." + +"Thee can," I said. + +"I will," she said. + +"Farewell, Barbara." + +"Fare thee well, friend Biddle." + +I almost stumbled over a man as I hurried out by the gate. "I beg thy +pardon, friend," I said. + +"I beg yours, sir," he answered. I looked, and saw that he was a hireling +minister with a white cloth at his neck and an unhappily-cut coat. And he +raised his hand to his hat and said, "I am but new in this neighborhood: I +am the pastor of the church newly erected here." + +"Peace be unto thee, man of the Lord!" I said. + +"And to you, my friend!" he answered. + +And I had but time to reach the station and take my place in the car that +whirled me away from where my mind was so constantly set. + + +II. + +It was but natural and wholly consistent that I should choose an +unassuming and grave lodging-house on my arrival at the place of my +destination; for, apart from my predilection of religious tenets, quietude +is closely allied to much thought; and while my training had made me +desire the quietude as a part and portion of the best of life, friend +Barbara had made thought inexpressibly pleasant and wholesome to me. There +were men all around me who had, perhaps, little or no thought of +religion--that is, the emotion of religion, which is so often confounded +with religion itself--yet when I made known my wishes of a quiet home to +them they assisted me without the usual looking askance at my plain garb +and manner of speech. Was I not a man like themselves? were not my +functions as their own? Take away what each of us looked upon as faults in +the other, and we were equals and alike. I made my request boldly: had I +minced the matter and felt a shame in it, I might have merited all the +ridicule which men morally and physically strong, or men morally and +physically diseased, usually throw upon a conscious weakness which would +pass for something else. I was recommended to many houses, only they all +had the great drawback--many other lodgers. At last some one proposed Jane +Afton's house: that was quiet enough, they assured me, but the greatest +objection to any paled when in comparison with this: she had a demented +woman in charge--harmless, but wholly astray from sense. + +"I assure thee," I said to friend Afton, "I fear not the minds of people: +the body does the harm in this world." + +"In that case you have come to the right house," said she. "For Fanny +Jordan is a little, slight woman without strength, and her insanity is +from religion." + +And so on my first day in the place I found my lodging-house. It might +have been more conciliating to my mind had friend Afton not attempted the +use of the plain language, for she made but a sorry attempt at it at best. + +"Thee's trunk is arrived, and thee's hat-box is smashed by the lout of a +boy that brought it," she said; and this is merely a specimen of her +manner. It was grating upon me, but I forbore to make remark, as I have no +doubt her principle was all that could be desired, although it was faulty +in its constructive carrying out. I may safely say that I did not remember +there was another lodger besides myself in her house when I retired for +the night, and I was sitting at the little table in my room moved by a +power of mind to think past many miles, even unto the home of friend +Hicks. I saw him sitting by the kitchen-fire that was so warm and large in +its dimensions--for it was cold weather now--and on the opposite side of +the hearth his daughter on a low chair was busy looking into the flame +that lit up the smooth bands of her hair that lay like satin of a soft +brown color upon her comely face. Her eyes were bright, her lips were +parting as one who jests, and--But I fear me I have run beyond sense +again. Suffice it to say that I sat there culpably lost in thought, when +a solemn voice like the voice of a prophet of old startled me and made me +cold. + +"Out of tribulation comes patience; out of patience, hope," said the +voice; and then a low, scornful laugh. It was then I remembered the poor +demented woman, and I arose and opened my room-door. She was standing +inside her own room, a slight pale woman with a sadly-bereaved face: her +arms were stretched out above her as one in supplication. "False God!" she +cried in a voice cold and bitter, in which there was no trace of +tenderness or pitiful earnestness, "Thou hast made me a lie upon Thy cruel +earth. Tribulation Thou hast given me; patience the world forced upon me; +hope Thou hast denied me." + +Still with her arms outstretched she _spoke_ to the Lord and reviled Him. +She clenched her hands in anger at times as her speech waxed more +wrathful. In much compassion I would have gone in and closed the door, but +as I was on the point of doing so, she, with one of those quick and +nervous thrills that so often belong to dementia, saw me and pointed to +me. She would have spoken, but I saw friend Afton's hand suddenly close +about her waist, draw her forcibly from my view, and close the door +between us. + +"The Lord is mighty," I said to myself, and called to mind that youth +among the tombs so long ago--that youth that they of old said was +possessed of devils, and whom the pitying Man of Sorrows called upon to be +free from torments. + +In the morning friend Afton explained that I need have no fear. + +"I think thee fails to comprehend that we Friends neglect one thing in our +training, and that is fear," said I. + +"And poor Mrs. Jordan won't make thou look for another boarding-house, +sir?" asked she. + +"Friend Jordan assuredly will not," said I, "but friend Afton may, if thee +will pardon my abruptness, which seems to wound thee." + +"How?" + +"Thee has thy language, friend--I have mine. I do not stop to say 'you' +to thee because thy mode is not as mine: then thee might be as free with +me, and say 'you' to me, just as thee would if my plain garb were changed +for a Joseph's coat." + +"I thought I was polite in doing it," said she. + +"Thank thee. Thee may be that, but thee is scarcely truthful; and all due +politeness, as thee terms it, must be truthful, or it is called deceit." + +She understood me, and she was natural thereafter. + +Now perhaps I chafed in spirit at this time because I heard no word from +friend Hicks. I am convinced at this present moment that had he felt it +borne in upon him to indite me some words of homely comfort, I should have +been gratified exceedingly. But his mind lay otherwise presumably, for no +word came for a week. + +Once during that week I saw friend Jordan walking wearisomely along the +passage-way of friend Afton's house. She gave me a quick look as she saw +me ascending the stair. "Ishmael!" she said. + +"Nay," I responded: "no man's hand is against me, nor is mine against any +man." + +"And yet I am Hagar weeping in the wilderness." + +"I pity thee." + +"You are a Quaker." + +"I am a Friend." + +"And you believe in God?" + +"Yea, verily. The voice of the Lord in the vineyard calleth me ever." + +"Fool! There is no God." + +"Nay, I am no fool. 'The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.' +And I never say that." + +"I used to think that, but God has taken away my life, and left me the +life of the damned." + +"The Lord taketh no man's life: He giveth, and man destroyeth." + +"I like you, Quaker. You don't say 'Never mind,' and give me right in all +I say. Yes, I like you, Quaker." + +"I thank thee, friend," I said, and passed by her and entered my room. + +As time went on I grew accustomed to hearing her at all hours of the night +repeating passages from the Scriptures, and misapplying their calm +greatness. I could hear her open her window, and could see from mine that +she stood there talking to the stars, and asking them where was the woman +that had been she, and where was her own dear love and unalterable +affection? I could see that she wept often, and that the tears ran down +her white wan face all pinched by suffering, and that she supplicated the +night in tender words to bring back to her what had gone away--what had +gone away! + +I was alone in this place: the people were not such as would be my choice +of companions, for there were no Friends in the community, and I scarcely +think I ever was fitted for the society of the world's people. I care much +for silent meditation and in-looking, and the joys and pleasures of the +gayer people seemed but noisome, and not of a tone with Nature's silent +sunshine and green leaves, white snows and growing things. It is, I know, +my early training that has made me fitted only to see thus. I cared now +much to stay in my room after the tasks of the day were over and think of +the friends far off. Belike I am most domestic in my desires, and that may +be the cause why my mind travelled swiftly and surely to friend Hicks's +fireside, and dwelt so long and with all gentleness close beside his +daughter. And then I began, in my being so much alone, to inconsistently +connect friend Barbara with friend Jordan. The demented woman was always +calling out for those who were much to her, but who were far from her--was +always saying that her heart wanted the love that was denied it. I bethink +me that I more fully sympathized with her than was my wont, simply because +I cared so much for friend Barbara and heard so much of longing for +affection that had been denied. Therefore, as time passed on and the +letters from friend Hicks were very few, and always ended with "My +daughter sends her duty to thee"--never one word more or less--and I +could not with becoming grace say aught of her to her father when I +replied to his letters, which were strictly of a business nature and +acknowledged the receipt of various moneys which I sent him for the +keeping,--therefore, as time passed on, friend Jordan grew upon me. I +would leave my room-door open of nights, and take a chair and seat myself +upon the threshold; and as she walked up and down, up and down, restless +and discontented, repeating disconnected scraps of Bible verses, I would +often say a word to her in answer to some heedless and terrible question +of the goodness of the Lord. Friend Afton had less care of her at such +times, for she told me friend Jordan cared very well for me because I was +so quiet and orderly. Then when the woman was tired and could walk no +more, I would offer her my chair and would talk to her--not giving her +frivolous answer for frivolous question, but saying to her what I had to +say as earnestly as though I had been moved by Spirit in meeting to give +the assurances of my own heart. It is a wonder to me at this day how calm +she often became under my mode of speech. She fell into the way of looking +for me and expecting me, and often when I saw her, far in the night, at +her window holding out her very thin hands in supplication, I would softly +raise my own window and say kindly, "Don't thee think thee could sleep if +thee tried, friend Jordan?"--"I will try, Quaker," she would say, and go +in and close the window, and remain quiet for the rest of the night. It +was a sad contrast, I am sure--she wild and uncontrollable from +self-government, and I held in and still by discipline of many ancestors. +And then when she found that her cavilling against the Lord and His mighty +works was the opposite of pleasant to me, and made me sad of visage, she +after a while would content herself to say, "I used to say" so and so, as +the case might be, "but now I doubt myself;" which was more comforting. + +But there came a letter from friend Hicks; and after much talk concerning +a certain lot of lumber and other matters of business, he said, "My +daughter is not looking healthful, and is not so well as could be +desired." I do not know what made me forget all the rest of his letter but +that one line. It seemed to me that I was stricken with pain with that +thin black miracle--pen-and-ink words. I wrote a letter to him instantly; +I put aside all modesty of demeanor and spoke only of Barbara, of my +desire to have her well and cheerful; I never once in all my lines +mentioned business. Friend Hicks must have been sensibly astonished. That +night when I went home friend Jordan for the first time grated upon me, +and I would fain have gone into my room and closed the door and thought +long and painfully. In my flighty mind I saw Barbara pining, and for me! +Never before had I thought she cared so well for me as now when she was +not in fair health. It is a sad happiness to think that some dear one is +far from thee, and heavy of heart all for thee. But I was selfish, for I +heard a sob at my closed door, and friend Jordan was crouched on the sill. +"Have _you_ deserted me too?" she asked. + +"Nay, friend," I replied, "but I had sad news which left me beyond much +comfort." + +"'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will +fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort +me,'" she said. + +"Will thee touch my hand?" I tried to say, for my voice was quite broken. +"Comfort!" + +And so we talked long and tirelessly: she seemed in her sanest mind, and +something in me appeared to make her look at me more than usual. + +"Why do you not complain?" she asked me. And I told her that I had nothing +to complain of. + +And to-night she told me that she had read the Scriptures +misunderstandingly all her life; that she had taken their truths to her in +affright; that their majesty had, instead of raising her up to their +height, debased her even below herself. I saw in all from the first, even +had friend Afton not told me, that what is called religion had wrecked her +mind, and in my own manner of understanding the Lord's way I could +scarcely comprehend it. + +Although I had not much mind in my affairs after I had heard of Barbara's +illness, yet a week sped along before I had word again. And what word was +it that _did_ come? I have read that to hear of the death of one who is +infinitely near to us in spirit is not the worst we can hear--that the +separation by death is not so eternal as the separation which life can +make. Barbara wrote me herself this time, unknown to her father; and I had +been away but a matter of three months. She said no word of her illness +nor of her father: she addressed herself in all honesty and ruth to me. +She had, somehow, in the place met with a man, one of the world's people, +whom she found much to her mind--far more than I had ever been, she said: +her father necessarily knew nothing of this, and she had chosen rather to +tell me of it first, as I had the best right to know first of all. (The +best right! I remembered the time when I had spoken to her father before I +had spoken to her of my intended coming to this place where I was.) She +asked me would I be willing to take as a wife a woman who could not care +for me solely, carrying guiltily into her married life the memory of her +great feeling for a man who was not her husband. She asked if it were not +better that she should tell me this, rather than to hold herself tied to a +false code of honor which should make her give herself to me because she +had promised to do so. She would, if I still chose to hold her to her +word, marry me, but it was best I should know; and she trusted I would say +no word to her father about this, as it was clearly between her and me. +She further said that did I refuse to give her up she would not compromise +me in the least, as she did not know if that other man cared at all for +her; and she was sure, as I must be, that she had never shown him that he +was aught to her. + +This was the letter I was to answer unknown to her father. I saw her honor +standing out white and unassailable in it: I saw even her modesty, and, +above all, her truth and the womanly knowledge of what a wife should be to +her husband. I also saw that her father's will was her law; that her +father's will had influenced her ever; and that when I first proffered my +request of him for his daughter in marriage she took such a request as his +will: had he said No, her answer would have been likewise: as it was Yes, +she had acquiesced. But the pain of it! the pain of it! + +I never once, from the minute the words clung to my mind like burning iron +to flesh, questioned as to how I must reply to the letter: the reply +shaped itself while I read her words. Could I take to myself a wife who +cared little for me? I cared too much for Barbara to have such a wife. + +And yet when I had come to friend Afton's house and entered my room, I +closed and locked the door before I sat down to reply to the letter, as +though I were doing a guilty deed. My hand trembled: the words I wrote +were blurred. I heard a low knock at my door, but I answered it not: why +should even a demented woman see me as I was? I wrote and re-wrote my +answer before I found it fitted to my mind. My letter must have not myself +in it: it must be clean of all foolish extravagance. And yet I extenuated, +for I called for another letter from her. I wrote, Did she rightly know +her mind? was she firm in her reasoning? _and who was the man?_ I had not +intended writing that last, but something forced me to it: it was not vain +curiosity, for curiosity is too far removed from pain to be a part of it. +But I could not see whom she could possibly know of all the inhabitants of +the place that could thus exercise her spirit. There were few people there +whom she had not known for years, and it was not likely she should have +known any one all this time and only now be awakened to a greater +knowledge. Perhaps a cruel feeling of jealousy actuated me in some +measure. Why, I reasoned, had friend Barbara thus led me on? But I stopped +there. Had she led me on? Nay. She had never given me reason to think that +I was aught to her: I had ever wrestled in spirit, hoping that she would +see in me what I saw so clearly in her--all that I could ever care to call +my own. She had never tried to deceive me by false words or looks or +actions: she had been true to her instincts as a woman in all this time, +and had been as I had seen her. Too truly I saw that the care had been +upon my side alone--that when I was most uplifted in spirit it was because +I had been blinded to anything save my own inordinate feeling and hope of +comfort. I forgot all else as I sat there with her letter in my hand; and +even my discipline was of little account when I folded my arms across the +table and let my head rest there for a little while. + +How long I rested there I know not, but I was aroused by words of friend +Jordan, and she said those awful questionings from the Cross, "My God! my +God! why hast Thou forsaken me?" And I arose and raised my hand, and said +those same words too. Then I opened the door, and she sprang into my arms. +She was wild and excited, and friend Afton was with her, but powerless to +do anything. I let her weep close to me and cry out and laugh--do just as +she would until she sank exhausted. Then I talked with her calmly and +dispassionately, and she clung to me and would not be removed. For an hour +or so we rested there, and then friend Afton gave me a letter from friend +Hicks. I started, and would have put the letter in my pocket, but the eyes +of friend Jordan were upon me, and I thought to allay her suspicions of my +not acting toward her as I would toward others; so I opened and read the +letter. No need to send friend Barbara the letter now. Her father wrote me +that his daughter, much against his will, had formed the acquaintance of a +hireling minister, one Richard Jordan, who had charge of the new church +just built there, and that, though friend Barbara had never told of the +man, yet her father had seen her walking with him. Friend Hicks deemed +that her being promised to me gave only me the right to expostulate with +her upon this, and desired me to write to her forthwith, as he himself +had said no word to her. I had friend Barbara's letter and her father's: +which should I obey? The one coming from the friend who was nearest to me? + +I afterward wrote to Barbara that I could not say one word of myself in +this matter, but that she must act as she thought best; only that she must +take all things into consideration, and must weigh one thing in the +balance with another--that did she make a mistake in going from her people +into the world, she might never rectify it to her own mind; but that if +she could justify her acts to herself, there was no need to call upon any +aid outside of what her own principles of right could afford her. I +thought it as well not to put myself at all in the letter, and to let her +think that it was as though I were writing as an interested friend to +another who scarcely knew what to do in a momentous time. Her father's +letter I passed entirely over. He never knew, nor does Barbara know to +this day, that I received it. + +Yet that night, when I sat with friend Jordan in the hallway of friend +Afton's house, my mind seemed confused and full of uncertainty. I scarcely +noted the name which friend Hicks told me belonged to the man he had seen +his daughter walking with, and not until friend Afton called to the other +woman that she should retire for the night did the similarity of the names +bear upon me. The hireling minister was named Jordan, the demented woman's +name was Jordan: it might be a casual coincidence, but the man seemed +taking all away from me that had made my life pleasant and hopeful, while +the woman said I gave her new life, new hope, and all that life and hope +consisted of--a healthful belief in the Lord and His works--although I +knew that while she said so her lost mind was perhaps only being +influenced by a quiet and moderate one. Yet maybe there are moments of +what is called delusion which are the most sane constituents of a +lifetime. As it was, late in the night, as I lay awake and sore in spirit, +and wild with all things and almost with the Lord, sleepless and with +much yearning grown upon me, I heard the voice calling out in the night up +to the stars and the mystery of quiet for love and all that had been near +and dear to this one clouded mind; and I turned my face to the wall. And I +was like Ishmael indeed when I remembered, while that voice threw out its +plaint and the words were clear and cleaved the darkness, that when I had +last parted with Barbara, when I hurried from her presence fearful to look +back lest she might call me from manly order by a look or a smile, I had +thrown myself against a man outside the garden-gate, the man with a white +neckcloth and long black ill-cut coat, who had told me that he was the +minister of the church but newly erected, and that I had bidden peace go +with him, and he had bidden it back to me. + + +III. + +I bethink me that I was very much perturbed in my mind after this, albeit +I was exteriorly the quiet, drab-colored Quaker that all knew me to be. +Still, I have failed yet to ascertain what discipline that can govern +actions, looks and speech can make man's heart throb more sluggishly than +the feelings to which all Nature is prone must ever provoke. Thee knows a +Friend must be seemly to all, and that alone will inform thee that I +manifested no alteration in my demeanor. And my business qualifications +were not impaired because of the uprising in my mind, for what has worldly +business to do with spiritual? I could bargain and sell to the best +advantage, be wholly consistent in all things, and be termed a man whose +feelings were so schooled that no emotion ever dared come nigh them. Thee +may think, the world may think, that suppressed emotion is annihilated +emotion: I who wear drab know differently. And the silence between friend +Barbara and myself was not a silence to be broken by useless speech: it +was too closely allied to the end of something I had been brought to think +almost eternal. I still had letter after letter from friend Hicks, which I +replied to always--letters on purely business-matters, never once touched +by so much as the name of Barbara, for she no longer sent her duty to me; +and I could but realize how stern her father must be to her at home for +her dereliction, and I--pitied her. As the weeks went by and I heard +nothing of or from her, I may safely asseverate that the cruelly weak +feeling that had oppressed me at first left me by degrees, and I could see +far clearer than before, and could perchance blame myself for having +failed to see ere this that I was what I was to her. I began to weigh the +many chances of happiness against the many certainties of unhappiness, and +I could but understand that she had with a woman's keen insight found out +easily what it had cost me so considerably to know. I could not blame her: +why should I? She had acted most fairly to me: had I done as well to her? +In friend Afton's house I fought the battle which alone Friends approve of +and sanction--the battle of the spirit against the flesh; and I conquered +well, I am assured, although I could never cease to care for friend +Barbara as I had cared for her since I had known her: it would have been +entirely inconsistent with the principles of constancy and truth which had +been so early and late imbibed by me. + +I must say now that my great comfort in these times was friend Jordan; +and, odd as it may appear, the similarity of her name with that of the man +whom friend Hicks's daughter had learned to regard so highly seemed to +call her closer to me than anything else at the same season might have +done. Of evenings we would take up our old manner, and she would say, +"Quaker, you are kinder than you know." + +She had never learned my name, nor had expressed a desire to know it: what +were names of things to her who had lost the things themselves? + +"Thank thee, friend Jordan," I would say; and then we would sit and talk. +Sometimes she would do all the talking: at other times she let me join +her. With her confused mind it was perhaps the best work I could have had, +to try to let in a little light where darkness had been so long. + +"We always love those the most who give us the most pleasure, do we not?" +she asked me. + +I could not give her the reply she wanted, for friend Hicks's daughter had +given me considerable happiness; so I remained quiet. + +"Then next to those I love, and who nightly shine down to me in long, cool +reaches of light from the stars, I love you, Quaker," she said. + +"I thank thee," I replied. + +"You should never thank for love," she said, "for it is a gift that +requires as much as it bestows." + +"And yet they call thee crazed!" I said, and placed my hand upon her wild +dishevelled hair. + +"But you Quakers never show any feeling," she went on, "and I suppose you +never love." + +"Sometimes we do," said I. + +She seemed to think I was made sorry by what she had spoken, for she +started. "What am I saying?" she exclaimed, "when you have shown me more +feeling than any one in the world; and maybe you love me a little." + +"We should love our neighbors as ourselves." + +"I want the stars," she began, weeping: "I want to reach them, to go to +them, to have the light in my mind that is gone out of it up to them." + +I could say nothing, for my want was something akin to hers. + +Many a wild night had she now, and friend Afton and I had often but sad +chances of keeping her within bounds: we had to watch her while she would +stand and call out to the far-off lights in the sky; and as, like a +prophet of old, she stood and repeated divine words of care and an +all-seeing love, she was grown softer and gentler, and her speech seemed +to come from one who understood what the words imparted to her hearers. +She was fond of saying the Psalms of David, and would weep at the touching +words of suffering, of joy and of exultation which that man, so many +thousand years dead, had been wont to sing as perchance he stood as she +now did, looking up to the same nightly skies and weeping as she now wept, +as his words rang through the ever-settled calmness of the night, and had +no answer borne to his ears, but only the quiet made even quieter by his +sorrow or his joy. + +But I find that again I am using superfluous if not wholly irrelevant +speech. Let me say, however, that had I possessed more curiosity--or, +rather, if I had expressed more curiosity--friend Afton would have told +me, as she afterward did, that the woman was not so entirely alone as she +imagined herself to be, for that weekly letters reached friend Afton +wherein were goodly wages for the care of the stricken one. + +That my affairs prospered I am glad to relate--that in the six months I +should be here I should accumulate an agreeable sum might have pleased me. +But what was that sum to me now, when I realized to what purpose I had +expected to put it? Yet my greed received a check. I had a letter from +friend Hicks. It was a most grievous letter: my money, all that he held in +trust for me (and it was my all), had been stolen from his keeping. The +theft had occurred more than a month ago, but as he had sedulously hoped +to detect the culprit, he had kept the fact from me for shame at what +might be termed his negligence of reposed trust. He had instigated +diligent search, but nothing had come of it: there was no one to accuse. +He had determined, however, to pay back to my account from his own moneys +the full amount, and had only informed me of the loss that there might be +no secrecy between us, and that I should never hear from outside parties +that this thing had occurred, and that he had used most reprehensive tact +to disguise the fact from me. I wrote a letter to him. I reminded him that +the money was of no account--that as it had been intended for the +well-known purpose, and as my marriage was to be at no set time, let it +rest to my loss, and not his, for that I would never accept of his money +to cover what was truthfully a theft from me. + +I heard long afterward that he let his daughter read this letter, as he +knew that she was often with Richard Jordan, and he desired to acquaint +her that I meant to be well in all my principles. This was as I understood +it. + +The loss of this money gave me little concern, I assure thee; and now that +it would never be put to its originally-intended use, I perhaps cared less +than I ordinarily might have cared; for friend Barbara's long silence +could help me but to one conclusion, and that was that she would never be +my wife. For had she consented to be guided by her former promise, her +confession of much care for another man would have most effectively +debarred me from calling into requisition that promise so exactingly +obtained from her. My wife must have no fondness for another man than me. +And yet when, a few days after the receipt and reply of her father's +letter, another in friend Barbara's writing was placed in my hand, I can +but say that more joy than I had ever before experienced was mine, and I +thought of Miriam's song so full of triumph and gladness. And then the +wonderful words of the psalm came to me. "'Yea, though I walk through the +valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, +Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me,'" I said aloud, and thought of poor +friend Jordan as she had understood those words so short a time ago. + +Suppose Barbara had written in answer to my letter to her--had owned that +her thought of the man was a delusion, and that she cared for me, and me +only, above all others in the world! I carried the letter by me for many +an hour, for it was business-time when I had it, and I let nothing +interfere with needful duties of the day. It lay within my pocket +pulseless, as a letter always is: its envelope had my name upon it +carefully and neatly inscribed. Then when I had an hour to myself I +walked, not more briskly than usual, to a sunny hollow surrounded by new +boards smelling most pleasantly of the rich forests they had helped to +form, and there, surrounded by deal that had held many a singing bird's +voice in its time, I broke the seal of Barbara's second letter to me. I +think I was vastly stricken as I read it--more stricken perhaps than life +can ever experience twice. Did she write as I had most hoped and desired? +It was a long letter, and I read it through twice to fully comprehend it. +She was a thief! she herself had stolen the money! She knew that her +father must have written me that the money was gone, and she did not wish +to see the blame rest on an innocent person. Her father had been harsher +than usual with her, and, when she would have asserted herself in many +ways, had always referred her to me, telling her that I was the rightful +one to say what might and what might not be: her father had refused to +hear her make mention of the man she had mentioned to me, and had not +recognized her being with him at all. (I could see in this that friend +Hicks had tried more than arbitrary means to reduce his daughter's mind to +the level of his wishes. But to the letter.) How could she, then, she +wrote, tell her father of the taking of the money? She trusted that I +might not think her overly bold, but if I did, it made no difference to +her, for she was rendered desperate on all sides. (Ah, friend Barbara! thy +father had ever such a cold reserve, that was not meant unkindly, but +nevertheless was overly severe.) She could trust me, for it was my own +money she had taken. (I bethink me it was but an odd trust at best.) She +had taken the money to send to the man she cared so much for: he was a +very poor man, and the congregation of which he was the hired preacher was +poor; and as they had built a church which they could not afford to pay +for, it was but in reason that they could not pay the minister of the +church. The church was what the world's people call "a split" from another +church--split because the people quarrelled about the Thirty-nine +Articles, whatever they be, one party wanting thirty-eight or forty, and +the other perhaps the original number. She knew that the minister was +woefully in debt; that no one would trust him any further; that he had +met and told her nothing at all of it; that he was duly polite to her, +and mentioned none of his affairs at all. (O Barbara! how thee shielded +him!) But she had questioned a woman who knew much of him, and the woman +had said that he must have money for a certain secret purpose, the nature +of which purpose the woman refused to tell, and that he was crazed for +money. Barbara had asked the woman if the purpose were a sinful or +shameful purpose, but the answer had been that it was the most holy one a +man could have. Then Barbara had looked upon his white face and knew of +his straits, and had pitied him. It was borne in upon her that she should +help him. "Thee would have felt so, I am assured," she wrote. Then looking +around her, confused by many and conflicting feelings, sad and grieving +for herself, having no one to go to in the greatest trial a woman can +have, she had seen but one thing to do: she called to mind Samuel Biddle, +and how generously he had acted toward her--more generously than she had +reason to suppose another man could ever do. Friend Biddle's letter to her +was couched in such kindly terms that she knew it had been no great +overthrow of feeling on his part to give her the liberty which she had +long debated with herself whether to accept or not; and had finally +concluded to do so. Then she had taken the money from her father's iron +safe. She had sent it anonymously to the man, though she feared that he +suspected from whom it came; and that was the saddest stroke of all, "for, +friend Biddle," she wrote, "I know not if I am anything unto him, but I do +assure thee he is much to me." (Poor friend Barbara! how I pitied thee for +that!) + +This was all of the letter, and I read it through twice. + +I had gotten over my foolish emotion of disappointment, as I have told +thee before this, and I went back to my office and indited a reply to the +epistle immediately. "Let it be as thee has done, and thee may think that +I fully sympathize with thee." That was my only reply. + +And when I thought over the letter--her letter--from beginning to end, all +day long, I did not see that I could have indited a different reply. +Still, when I went home to friend Afton's house, and friend Afton came to +me and told me that friend Jordan had had a more miserable day than ever, +although my sympathy was fully aroused, yet it was with a sense of relief +that I entered my room and closed the door, for I bethought me that I had +much to ponder on. But my thought was interrupted: the poor demented woman +was weeping in her room. She was stormy in her grief, and I heard friend +Afton scolding. I opened my door. "Friend Jordan, is thee grieved?" I +asked. + +"Oh, Quaker," she cried, running to me, "they are all in the sky calling +to me, and this woman will not let me reach them." + +"She would have jumped out," whispered friend Afton, "and I had to nail +down the sash." + +I nodded, and motioned for her to keep quiet. "Does thee think thee would +like to talk to me a while?" I asked. + +"Not now, for I only want to talk with them. But tell me, Quaker--tell me +if you want one thing more than any other in this world, and I will ask +them to give it to you. Is there any one that you want to love you? For +they can easily help you, as they have made me love you, and made you be +good to me." + +"Nay, friend," I said, "even the light from the stars cannot make one care +for me who would not." + +Then she cried out that I was sorrowful, and that I made her heart +heavy--I who had always been a comfort and a guidance before. + +"I will be so to thee now," I said. + +"Then give me rest," she cried. + +"The Lord knows I would give thee rest, O soul! if I could." + +She looked at me most suddenly--I may say as a flash--and quickly glanced +in at my room. + +"Then I think I can rest in your room," she said. + +"Thee shall do so." + +Then I put on my hat and prepared to go out, and friend Afton said it was +a relief to have one so obliging in the house. + +"Farewell to thee," I said to friend Jordan. + +She stood inside my doorway and looked at me. "'Come unto Me, all ye that +labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,'" she said, and moved +like a spirit toward me, placed her lips upon my cheek, and went in and +closed the door. It was the first time any woman save my mother had ever +kissed me. + +Those words made me feel that they applied to me, youth is so vain and +exacting even of the Lord's words. Nevertheless, as I went along the dark +streets I heard them ringing in my ears with such a benign meaning as I +never had understood in them before. + +Long I walked the streets, lost in much thought and contemplation, and I +felt what was weakness leaving me, and I deemed how heavy were some yokes +compared to mine--friend Barbara's, for instance, she who must be +surrounded and held in by unsympathizing moods. I fain would have helped +her more than I did, but any further succor only meant a further offering +of my feeling for her, and _that_ she was as powerless to accept as I was +to make her accept it. Long I walked the streets, and had the hopeful, +helping words around and within me. And late in the night I turned my +wearied steps toward friend Afton's, and once more was entering the house, +when, as though an angel--as though the Lord above--had spoken to me from +high overhead, in grave, solemn, holy voice came the words, "Come unto Me, +all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." And I +turned my eyes above as I hope to turn them on the last Vast Day, when +methinks those words may again be spoken and call forth a mighty response. +But what was that white form so far above, even upon the sill of my +window, three stories from the ground? With a great terror grown upon me I +rushed into the street, and saw far up there, far in the night, friend +Jordan standing out in the darkness with hands supplicating the stars, +saying those words. This was why she had desired to rest in my room: with +the cunning of insanity, she had known that the windows of her own room +were nailed down, and so on the instant had thought of mine as a possible +means of reaching to her stars. With every limb frozen, it seemed, by +sudden petrification, I had no power to unclose my lips, but I made a +sound like a groan, I know, and then I saw her reach up high, high toward +the sky and give a leap into the air. There came a crash of breaking +glass, and I saw a whirl of white garments far above me that came +fluttering down in a spiral motion. I rushed toward it ere it fell: there +came a sickening thud on the ground beside me, and a lifeless mass lay +there. + +I can scarcely narrate this calmly or well, but thee sees I have tried my +best. + +Then when friend Afton came to me, and in pardonable and much agitation +asked me to write to the friends of the dead woman, I complied, and +directed the letter to the Reverend Richard Jordan; and his address was +the place where friend Hicks sojourned, as likely thee has guessed. + +"What was this man to the deceased? does thee know?" I asked friend Afton. + +"No, sir. He placed her with me a year ago, and asked me to take the best +of care of her, and has always sent me money for her wants, and paid me +well besides. And, strange to say, I never could get her to mention him. +He seemed to be a good man, but poor in his dress--too young in the +profession to get a wealthy 'call.'" + +So the Reverend Richard Jordan, who had cared for this woman, was the man +whom friend Barbara thought well of! This was what the money had been +wanted for--this was the secret which was "neither sinful nor shameful, +but the most holy that a man can have"! + +When he came in at friend Afton's I went to him. "Who was the deceased?" I +asked--most bluntly, I fear me. + +"She was my wife," he said sadly, and so altogether frankly that I knew he +was no guilty man, whatever else he might be. + +"I grieve with thee," I said. "And before thee goes up to thy solemn +office of praying by thy dead wife's side, I would tell thee something. I +met thee--look at me!--months ago, when I almost stumbled against thee +outside of Benjamin Hicks's garden-gate. Thee was new to the place, thee +told me." + +"I remember you," he said, and flushed painfully. + +"Nay, do not redden," I said almost with anger. "I know all things about +thee, and nothing that is harmful." + +"Nor ever has been harm," he said firmly. + +"I know thee has had much money sent to thee, and thee does not know from +whom." + +"I do," he said, "and am ashamed to say I accepted it. It came from your +friend Hicks's daughter, but it was for my poor wife--for her alone. I +could not help myself--I--" + +"Thee has no need of shame for that. The Lord must have made it patent to +thee that we are placed here to help one another. And so much as friend +Hicks's daughter did for thee she did well, and she has my consent; for it +was my money that she sent thee." + +"God bless you, man!" he said, holding his hand to his face, "for I am +nothing to you." + +"And what is Benjamin Hicks's daughter to thee if thee is nothing to me?" + +He looked at me in wonder: "She is to me a good woman who did her benefits +in secret. I never had much conversation with her, for we seldom met; but +she was ever kind, and I heard that she would marry soon. I never talked +much to any one, for my cares have been great to me, and that sorrow up +stairs has been a goodly portion." + +"Go to thy sorrow," I said, "and let it comfort thee, as sorrow should, +that thee did the best thee could." + +Was I cruel in having spoken to him as I had, and at this time? + +Then I wrote all--everything of the past months, of to-day, of the +deceased woman's suffering, of her death, her husband's arrival, and all +that he had said to me. It was a considerably lengthy letter, but what of +that? It was for friend Barbara. I sent it at once. Then I must not +neglect my duties here, so I stayed the allotted time, receiving +occasional word from friend Hicks, but none from his daughter. + +I think my mind was much inclined toward the hireling minister, for I +clearly saw, as thee no doubt does, that he never knew what Barbara +thought of him, and that he never could know, for he was a pure man and +the sad husband of a sad wife. And when he would have said words of thanks +to me when he left me I checked him: "Thee knows a Friend is not well +pleased with many words: let the many good deeds which thee will do act as +the many kind words thee would give me." + +"With God's help I will," said he. + +"Verily," I said; "and I bid peace be unto thee!" + +"And unto you, friend!" he said. And the words that had been our first +parting at friend Barbara's father's gate were the words that were our +last as I left him at his wife's grave, from whence he was to go to a +church in a distant city. + +And when the six months were over and I was at liberty to go, I wrote +another letter of a single line to Barbara, and this was it: "I am coming +to thy father's house." That was all, for I thought that maybe she might +not care overly much to greet me, all things considered, and might +peradventure choose to make a trifling visit to her cousin Ann Jones, to +whose house she as often as not went for those changes which most women +much incline toward. Yet when I entered upon the porch of friend Hicks's +house, and Barbara was there, and said, "I am pleased to see thee, friend +Biddle," and her father said, "How does thee do?" altogether as though I +had seen them but a day before, it was most agreeable to my mind and +soothing to my spirit. And when, after the dinner was over, before which +there was little chance at conversation, although I thought I detected a +slight pallor in friend Barbara's face where before the dints had been, +and when she had betaken herself to some place out of sight, and friend +Hicks was beginning to talk upon my loss in his suffering a theft on his +premises, I merely said, "Yea, friend Barbara took the money." Thee should +have seen his face: it must have afforded thee considerable amusement. + +"Barbara?" he said with much difficulty. + +"Yea," I answered. "I know all about it; and she gave it to Richard +Jordan, whom thee thought to frighten me with. He was poor, in need, and +had a wife whom he must care for. I was in the house where his wife was +ever since thee parted with me." + +"Samuel Biddle!" + +"Verily, friend Hicks. And she was a demented woman, whom her husband had +to take good care of, and she relied upon me for such poor comfort as I +could afford her. She is deceased, and it was myself who sent for her +husband. Maybe there was much secrecy which thy daughter and I kept +without thee, but mayhap we did it for the best. And thee must never +inquire anything more about it; and I regret thee had so much concern, and +thank thee for a most kind and generous friend." + +"Samuel Biddle, I deemed that Barbara was not unto thee, nor thee unto +her, as both had been to one another." + +"Thee must be at odds with reason, friend Hicks, for I never have cared +less for Barbara than I did at the first." + +So I told the narrative to him; and although I strictly adhered to the +facts, I bethink me that had I made them a trifle straighter he might not +have comprehended them as he did. But he came to me as I sat there on the +porch, and he laid his hand on my arm: "I have been overly strict with +Barbara, friend Samuel, and thee must pardon me, for I only kept her for +thee. Thee is a good man; and although some of Barbara's and thy doings in +this matter, as thee has related it, are scarcely in accordance with an +understanding of the world such as I have, and such as thee may hope to +have in time, and most of what thee has done is rather removed from +orthodox, yet I hold myself in thy debt." + +Then as I glanced up I saw a face looking narrowly from far off in the +hall: I fear me that Barbara must inevitably have heard every word. +However, it was rather warmish weather, and as she came out to the porch +with her knitting in her hands, she looked as though she were grateful to +me; and there were wet rings about her eyes which made me sad to see, and +I remembered the time in the lane, a long while ago, when I had seen just +such rings and stains about her eyes. We spake not a word, and she sat +down on one side of me and her father on the other. As in another time, +friend Hicks put his handkerchief over his face to protect him from the +air--the flies not being come yet--and I scarcely hesitate to say that he +covered his left eye as well as his right. Then I am positive that the +silence grew irksome to me, for I knew not what to think of Barbara's +manner, nor what to say. So I arose and stood on the edge of the porch, +and looked far over the large unbroken landscape, as all early spring +landscapes are. I could not have been there many minutes before a soft +touch made me turn about, and Barbara was beside me, and the rings about +her eyes were wetter than ever. + +"Barbara!" I said softly. + +"Hush!" she whispered most gently, glancing toward her father, now balmily +sleeping. "Samuel Biddle, I must thank thee: thee knows what for, so I +need not repeat it. I thank thee, not as I would have thanked thee six +months ago, but as--" + +"As what, Barbara?" + +"As thy wife soon to be, Samuel Biddle." + +I placed her hand in mine. "And thee is not mistaken?" I said. + +"Nay, not mistaken now. I never knew thee till I understood that all men +are not like thee. I never knew thee till I most foolishly thought that a +few words from another man on even trivial subjects meant more than thy +silence of devotion. I learned my own mind in many ways, Samuel, and then +I learned thee; for I had thought thee was in a measure thrust upon me, +and only because I had not seen thee before father's approval of thee. +That other man's care of his wife--a care that kept her affliction from +any and all eyes--showed me what thee was even, and what thee was for me. +I cannot rightly say all that I would, but I can only say this--that I +never cared overly much for thee at first, Samuel Biddle; but Richard +Jordan has taught me one thing, which perhaps no other man in the world +could have done." + +"And that is--?" + +"What love is." + +"Barbara!" + +"Yea, Samuel Biddle, what love is; for I love thee, I love thee, and but +only thee; and might never have told thee so, but I heard what thee said a +spell ago to father, and I knew that thee was not disgusted with me, but +cared for me as much as ever. Yea, a stranger man has taught me what love +is." + +And while I could but pat her head as it rested upon my shoulder, I said +gladly, "Barbara, more than man has taught me what love is, and to love +thee; but maybe a man can teach to woman what the Lord alone has taught to +me." + +"Let me think so, Samuel--that the Lord taught thee, and thee taught me +the knowledge fresh from the Lord." + +Then I placed my lips upon Barbara's lips. + +ROBERT C. MEYERS. + + + + +LADY MORGAN. + + +With her wit and vanity, poor French and fine clothes, good common sense +and warm Irish heart, Lady Morgan was a most entertaining and original +character--a spirited, versatile, spunky little woman, whose whole life +was a grand social success. She was also one of the most popular and +voluminous writers of her day; but, with all her sparkle and dash, +ambition and industry, destined in a few generations more to be almost +unknown, vanishing down that doleful "back entry" where Time sends so many +bright men and women. As the founder of Irish fiction--for the national +tales of Ireland begin with her--and the patron of Irish song (she +stimulated Lover to write "Rory O'More," and "Kate Kearney" is her own), +always laboring for liberty and the interests of her oppressed countrymen, +and preserving her name absolutely untouched by scandal through a long and +brilliant career, she deserves a place among distinguished women. She +evidently had no idea of being forgotten, and completed twenty chapters of +autobiography--its florid egotism at once its fault and its charm--besides +keeping a diary in later years, and preserving nearly all the letters +written to her, and even cards left at her door. But on those cards were +the names of Humboldt, Cuvier, Talma and the most celebrated men of that +epoch, down to Macaulay, Douglas Jerrold and Edward Everett, while she +could count among her intimates the noted men and women of three +countries. La Fayette declared he was proud to be her friend; Byron +praised her writings, and always expressed regret that he had not made her +acquaintance in Italy; Sydney Smith coupled her name with his own as "the +two Sydneys;" Leigh Hunt celebrated her in verse; Sir Thomas Lawrence, Ary +Scheffer and other famous artists begged for the honor of painting her +portrait. Was it strange after all this, and being told for half a century +that she was an extraordinarily gifted and fascinating woman, that (being +a woman) she should believe it? + +She was extremely sensitive in regard to her age, and if forced to state +it on the witness-stand would doubtless have whispered it to the judge in +a bewitching way, as did a pretty but slightly _passé_ French actress +under similar embarrassing circumstances. She pleads: "What has a woman to +do with dates--cold, false, erroneous, chronological dates--new style, old +style, precession of the equinox, ill-timed calculation of comets long +since due at their station and never come? Her poetical idiosyncrasy, +calculated by epochs, would make the most natural points of reference in +woman's autobiography. Plutarch sets the example of dropping dates in +favor of incidents; and an authority more appropriate, Madame de Genlis, +who began her own memoirs at eighty, swept through nearly an age of +incident and revolution without any reference to vulgar eras signifying +nothing (the times themselves out of joint), testifying to the pleasant +incidents she recounts and the changes she witnessed. _I_ mean to have +none of them!" + +Sydney Owenson was born in "ancient ould Dublin" at Christmas: the year is +a little uncertain. The encyclopædias say about 1780: 1776 has been +suggested as more correct, but we will not pry into so delicate a matter. +A charming woman never loses her youth. Doctor Holmes tells us that in +travelling over the isthmus of life we do not ride in a private carriage, +but in an omnibus--meaning that our ancestors or their traits take the +trip with us; and in studying a character it is interesting to note the +combinations that from generations back make up the individual. Sydney's +father was the child of an ill-assorted marriage. "At a hurling-match long +ago the Queen of Beauty, Sydney, granddaughter of Sir Maltby Crofton, lost +her heart, like Rosalind, to the victor of the day, Walter McOwen +(anglicized Owenson), a young farmer, tall and handsome, graceful and +daring, and allowed him to discover that he had 'wrestled well and +overthrown more than his enemies.' Result, an elopement and mésalliance +never to be forgiven--the husband a jolly, racketing Irish lad, unable to +appreciate his high-toned, accomplished wife, a skilful performer on the +Irish harp, a poetess and a genius, called by the admiring neighbors 'the +Harp of the Valley.'" Their only child, the father of Lady Morgan, was a +tolerable actor, of loose morals and tight purse, who could sing a good +song or tell a good story, and who was always in debt. + +Sydney was a winsome little rogue, quite too much for her precise and +stately mother, who was ever holding up as a model a child, in her grave +fifty years agone, who had read the Bible through twice before she was +five years old, and knitted all the stockings worn by the coachmen! All in +vain: Sydney was not fated to die early or figure as a young saint in a +Sunday-school memoir. She took a deep interest in chimney-sweeps from +observing a den of little imps who swarmed in a cellar near her home, and +on one occasion actually scrambled up a burning chimney, followed by this +sooty troop. Her pets were numerous, the prime favorite being a cat named +Ginger, from her yellow coat. Her mother, who was shocked by Sydney adding +to her nightly petition, "God bless Ginger the cat!" did not share this +partiality, as is seen in the young lady's first attempt at authorship, +which has been preserved: + + My dear pussy-cat, + Were I a mouse or a rat, + Sure I never would run off from you, + You're _so_ funny and gay + With your tail when you play, + And no song is so sweet as your mew. + But pray keep in your press, + And don't make a mess, + When you share with your kittens our posset, + For mamma can't abide you, + And I cannot hide you + Unless you keep close in your closet. + +Her voice was remarkable, but her father, knowing too well the +temptations that beset a public singer, refused to cultivate her talent +for music, saying, "If I were to do this, it might induce her some day to +go on the stage, and I would prefer to buy her a sieve of black cockles +from Ring's End to cry about the streets of Dublin to seeing her the first +prima donna of Europe." A genuine talent for music will assert itself in +spite of neglect, and one evening at the house of Moore, where with her +sister Olivia she listened in tearful enthusiasm to some of his melodies, +sung as only the poet could sing them, was an important event in her life. +She tells us that after this treat they went home in almost delirious +ecstasy, actually forgetting to undress themselves before going to bed. +This experience developed a longing to know more of the early Irish +ballads, and roused a literary ambition. If the grocer's son could so +distinguish himself, she could surely relieve her dear father from his +embarrassments; and she began at once to write with this noble object. Her +unselfish and unwavering devotion to her rather worthless father is the +most attractive and touching point in her character. After her mother's +death she was sent to boarding-school, where she studied well, scribbled +verses, accomplished herself in dancing, and furnished bright home-letters +for her less brilliant mates. + +She next figures as a governess in the family of a Mrs. Featherstone of +Bracklin Castle. There was a merry dance for adieu the night she was to +leave, but, like Cinderella, she danced too long: the hour sounded, and +Sydney was hurried into the coach in a white muslin dress, pink silk +stockings and slippers of the same hue, while Molly, the faithful old +servant, insisted on wrapping her darling in her own warm cloak and +ungainly headgear. Being ushered in this plight into a handsome +drawing-room, there was a general titter at her grotesque appearance, but +she told her story in her own captivating way until they screamed with +laughter--not at her now, but with her--and she was "carried off to an +exquisite suite of rooms--a study, bedroom and bath-room, with a roaring +turf fire, open piano and lots of books;" and after dinner, where she was +toasted, she sang several songs, which had an immense effect, and the +evening ended with a jig, her hosts regretting that they had no spectators +besides the servants. This, her first jig out of the school-room, she +contrasts with her last one in public, when invited by the duchess of +Northumberland to dance with Lord George Hill. She accepted the challenge +from the two best jig-dancers in the country, Lord George and Sir Philip +Crampton, and had the triumph of flooring them both. + +Her first novel, _St. Clair_, was now completed. She had kept the writing +of it a profound secret, and one morning the young author, full of +ambitious dreams, borrowed the cook's market-bonnet and cloak and sallied +out to seek her fortune. Before going far she saw over a shop-door "T. +Smith, Printer and Bookseller," and ventured in. It was some minutes +before T. Smith made his appearance, and when he did so he had a razor in +one hand, a towel in the other, and only one side of his face shaved. +After hearing her errand he told her, good-naturedly, that he did not +publish novels, and sent her to Brown. Brown wanted his breakfast, and was +not anxious for a girl's manuscript; but his wife persuaded him to promise +to look it over; and, elated with success, Sydney ran back, forgetting to +leave any address, and never heard of her first venture till, taking up a +book in a friend's parlor, it proved to be her own. It had a good sale, +and was translated into German, with a biographical notice which stated +that the young author had strangled herself with an embroidered +handkerchief in an agony of despair and unrequited love. _The Sorrows of +Werther_ was her model, but with a deal of stuff and sentimentality there +was the promise of better things. "In all her early works her characters +indulge in wonderful digressions, historical, astronomical and +metaphysical, in the midst of terrible emergencies where danger, despair +and unspeakable catastrophes are imminent and impending. No matter what +laceration of their finest feelings they may be suffering, they always +have their learning at command, and never fail to make quotations from +favorite authors appropriate to the occasion." + +_The Novice of St. Dominick_ was Miss Owenson's second novel, and she went +alone to London to make arrangements for its publication. In those days a +journey from Ireland to that great city was no small undertaking, and when +the coach drove into the yard of the Swan with Two Necks the enterprising +young lady was utterly exhausted, and, seating herself on her little trunk +in the inn-yard, fell fast asleep. But, as usual, she found friends, and +good luck was on her side. The novel was cut down from six volumes to +four, and with her first literary earnings, after assisting her father, +she bought an Irish harp and a black mode cloak, being always devoted to +music and dress. At this time her strongest ambition was to be every inch +a woman. She gave up serious studies, to which she had applied herself, +and cultivated even music as a mere accomplishment, fearful lest she +should be considered a pedant or an artiste. + +Next came _The Wild Irish Girl_, her first national story, which gave her +more than a national fame, and three hundred pounds from her fascinated +publisher. It contains much curious information about the antiquities and +social condition of Ireland, and a passionate pleading against the wrongs +of its people. It made the piquant little governess all the rage in +fashionable society, and until her marriage she was known by the name of +her heroine, Glorvina. As a story the book is not worth reading at the +present day. + +In _The Book of the Boudoir_, a sort of literary ragbag, she gives, under +the heading "My First Rout in London," a graphic picture of an evening at +Lady Cork's: "A few days after my arrival in London, and while my little +book, _The Wild Irish Girl_, was running rapidly through successive +editions, I was presented to the countess-dowager of Cork, and invited to +a rout at her fantastic and pretty mansion in New Burlington street. Oh, +how her Irish historical name tingled in my ears and seized on my +imagination, reminding me of her great ancestor, 'the father of chemistry +and uncle to the earl of Cork'! I stepped into my job carriage at the hour +of ten, and, all alone by myself, as the song says, 'to Eden took my +solitary way.' What added to my fears and doubts and hopes and +embarrassments was a note from my noble hostess received at the moment of +departure: 'Everybody has been invited expressly to meet the Wild Irish +Girl; so she must bring her Irish harp. M.C.O.' I arrived at New +Burlington street without my harp and with a beating heart, and I heard +the high-sounding titles of princes and ambassadors and dukes and +duchesses announced long before my poor plebeian name puzzled the porter +and was bandied from footman to footman. As I ascended the marble stairs +with their gilt balustrade, I was agitated by emotions similar to those +which drew from a frightened countryman his frank exclamation in the heat +of the battle of Vittoria: 'Oh, jabbers! I wish some of my greatest +enemies was kicking me down Dame street.' Lady Cork met me at the door: +'What! no harp, Glorvina?'--'Oh, Lady Cork!'--'Oh, Lady Fiddlestick! You +are a fool, child: you don't know your own interests.--Here, James, +William, Thomas! send one of the chairmen to Stanhope street for Miss +Owenson's harp.'" + +After a stand and a stare of some seconds at a strikingly sullen-looking, +handsome creature who stood alone, and whom she heard addressed by a +pretty sprite of fashion with a "How-do, Lord Byron?" she says: "I was +pushed on, and on reaching the centre of the conservatory I found myself +suddenly pounced upon a sort of rustic seat, a very uneasy pre-eminence, +and there I sat, the lioness of the night, shown off like the hyena of +Exeter 'Change, looking almost as wild and feeling quite as savage. +Presenting me to each and all of the splendid crowd which an idle +curiosity, easily excited and as soon satisfied, had gathered round us, +she prefaced every introduction with a little exordium which seemed to +amuse every one but its object: 'Lord Erskine, this is the Wild Irish Girl +whom you are so anxious to know. I assure you she talks quite as well as +she writes.--Now, my dear, do tell my Lord Erskine some of those Irish +stories you told us the other evening. Fancy yourself among your own set, +and take off the brogue. Mrs. Abingdon says you would make a famous +actress: she does indeed. You must play the short-armed orator with her: +she will be here by and by. This is the duchess of St. Albans: she has +your novel by heart. Where is Sheridan?--Do, my dear Mr. T---- (This is +Mr. T----, my dear: geniuses should know each other)--do, my _dear_ Mr. +T----, find me Mr. Sheridan. Oh! here he is!--What! you know each other +already? So much the better.--This is Lord Carysford.--Mr. Lewis, do come +forward.--That is Monk Lewis, my dear, of whom you have heard so much, but +you must not read his works: they are very naughty.' Lewis, who stood +staring at me through his eye-glasses, backed out after this remark, and +disappeared. 'You know Mr. Gell,' her ladyship continued, 'so I need not +introduce you: he calls you the Irish Corinne. Your friend Mr. Moore will +be here by and by: I have collected all the talent for you.--Do see, +somebody, if Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons are come yet, and find me Lady +Hamilton.--_Now_, pray tell us the scene at the Irish baronet's in the +rebellion.' + +"Lord L---- volunteered his services. The circle now began to widen--wits, +warriors, peers and ministers of state. The harp was brought forward, and +I tried to sing, but my howl was funereal. I was ready to cry, but +endeavored to laugh, and to cover my real timidity by an affected ease +which was both awkward and impolitic. At last Mr. Kemble was announced. +Lady Cork reproached him as the _late_ Mr. Kemble, and then, looking +significantly at me, told him who I was. Kemble acknowledged me by a +kindly nod, but the stare which succeeded was not one of mere recognition: +it was the glazed, fixed look so common to those who have been making +libations to altars which rarely qualify them for ladies' society. Mr. +Kemble was evidently much preoccupied and a little exalted. He was seated +my _vis-à-vis_ at supper, and repeatedly raised his arm and stretched it +across the table for the purpose, as I supposed, of helping himself to +some boar's head in jelly. Alas! no! The _bore_ was that _my_ head +happened to be the object which fixed his tenacious attention, which, +dark, cropped and curly, struck him as a particularly well-organized +_brutus_, and better than any in his repertoire of theatrical perukes. +Succeeding at last in his feline and fixed purpose, he actually stuck his +claws in my locks, and, addressing me in the deepest sepulchral tones, +asked, 'Little girl, where did you get your wig?' Lord Erskine came to the +rescue and liberated my head, and all tried to retrieve the awkwardness of +the scene. Meanwhile, Kemble, peevish, as half-tipsy people generally are, +drew back muttering and fumbling in his pocket, evidently with some dire +intent lowering in his eyes. To the amusement of all, and to my increased +consternation, he drew forth a volume of the _Wild Irish Girl_, and +reading with his deep, emphatic voice one of the most high-flown of its +passages, he paused, and patting the page with his fore finger, with the +look of Hamlet addressing Polonius, he said, 'Little girl, why did you +write such nonsense? and where did you get all those damned hard words?' +Thus taken by surprise, and smarting with my wounds of mortified +authorship, I answered unwittingly and witlessly the truth: 'Sir, I wrote +as well as I could, and I got the hard words from--Johnson's Dictionary.' +He was soon carried off to prevent any more attacks on my head, inside or +out." + +Glorvina was now very much the fashion, visiting in the best Dublin +society and making many friends, whom she had the tact to retain through +life. When articles of dress or ornament are named for one, it is an +unfailing sign that they have attained notoriety, if not fame, and the +bodkin used for fastening the "back hair" was called "Glorvina" in her +honor. Like many attractive women of decided character, she had her full +share of faults and foibles. Superficial, conceited, sadly lacking in +spirituality and refinement, a cruel enemy, a toady to titles, a blind +partisan of the Liberal party,--that is her picture in shadow. Her style +was open to severe criticism, and Richard Lovell Edgeworth suggests mildly +that Maria, in reading her novel aloud in the family circle, was obliged +to omit some superfluous epithets. + +In this first flush of celebrity she never gave up work, holding fast to +industry as her sheet-anchor. Soon appeared two volumes of patriotic +tales. _Ida of Athens_ was Novel No. 3, but written in confident haste, +and not well received. The names of her books would make a list rivalling +that of the loves of Don Giovanni (nearly seventy volumes), and any +extended analysis or criticism would be impossible in this rapid sketch. +"Every day in my life is a leaf in my book" was a motto literally carried +out, and she tried almost every department of literature, succeeding best +in describing the broad characteristics of her own nation. "Her lovers, +like her books, were too numerous to mention," yet her own heart seemed +untouched. She coquetted gayly, but her adorers were always the sufferers. + +Sir Jonah Barrington wrote her at this time a complimentary and witty +letter, in which he says of her heroine Glorvina, "I believe you stole a +spark from heaven to give animation to your idol." He thought the +inferiority of _Ida_ was owing to its author's luxurious surroundings. "I +cannot conceive why the brain should not get fat and unwieldy, as well as +any other part of the human frame. Some of our best poets have written in +paroxysms of hunger, and I really believe that Addison would have had more +point if he had had less victuals; and if you do not restrict yourself to +a sheep's trotter and spruce beer, your style will betray your luxury." +But soon came an increase of the very thing feared for her fame, in the +form of an invitation from Lady Abercorn and the marquis to pass the +chief part of every year with them. This was accepted, and thus she met +her fate. Lord Abercorn kept a physician in his house, Doctor Morgan, a +handsome, accomplished widower, whom the marchioness was anxious to +provide with a second wife. She had fixed upon Sydney as a suitable +person, but the retiring and reticent doctor had heard so much of her wit, +talents and general fascination that he disliked the idea of meeting her. +He was sitting one morning with the marchioness when a servant threw open +the door, announcing "Miss Owenson," who had just arrived. Doctor Morgan +sprang to his feet, and, there being no other way of escape, leaped +through the open window into the garden below. This was too fair a +challenge for a girl of spirit to refuse, and she set to work to captivate +him, succeeding more effectually than she desired, for she had dreamed of +making a brilliant match. Soon a letter was written to her father asking +his leave to marry the conquered doctor, yet she does not seem to have +been one bit in love. He was too grave and good, though as devoted a lover +as could be asked for. It was a queer match and a dangerous experiment, +but after a while their mutual qualities adjusted themselves. He kept her +steady, and she roused him from indolent repose. As a critic of that time +says: "She was as bustling, restless, energetic and pushing as he was +modest, retiring and unaffected." Lover gives this picture of them: "There +was Lady Morgan, with her irrepressible vivacity, her humor that indulged +in the most audacious illustrations, and her candor which had small +respect for time or place in its expression, and who, by the side of her +tranquil, steady, contemplative husband, suggested the notion of a Barbary +colt harnessed to a patient English draught-horse." + +She had a certain light, jaunty air peculiarly Irish, celebrated by Leigh +Hunt in verses which embody a faithful portrait: + + And dear Lady Morgan, see, see where she comes, + With her pulses all beating for freedom like drums, + So Irish, so modish, so mixtish, so wild, + So committing herself, as she talks, like a child; + So trim, yet so easy, polite, yet high-hearted, + That Truth and she, try all she can, won't be parted. + She'll put on your fashions, your latest new air, + And then talk so frankly, she'll make you all stare. + Mrs. Hall may say "Oh!" and Miss Edgeworth say "Fie!" + But my lady will know the what and the why. + Her books, a like mixture, are so very clever + That Jove himself swore he could read them for ever, + Plot, character, freakishness, all are so good, + And the heroine herself playing tricks in a hood. + +After a happy year with her patrons Glorvina married and moved to a home +of her own in Kildare street, Dublin, whence she writes to Lady Stanley: +"With respect to authorship, I fear it is over. I have been making +chair-covers instead of periods, hanging curtains instead of raising +systems, and cheapening pots and pans instead of selling sentiment and +philosophy." But even during this first busy year of housekeeping she was +working upon _O'Donnel_, another national tale, for which she was paid +five hundred and fifty pounds. It was highly praised by Sir Walter Scott, +and sold with rapidity, but her Liberal politics made her unpopular with +the leading Tory journalism of England. In point of pitiless invective the +criticism of the _Quarterly_ and _Blackwood_ has perhaps never been +exceeded. Her books were denounced as pestilent, and the public advised +against maintaining her acquaintance. Miss Martineau, an impartial critic, +if impartiality consists in punching almost every one she passed, did not +fail to give our heroine a black eye, speaking of her as "in that set to +which Mrs. Jameson belonged, who make women blush and men grow insolent." + +Sir Charles and his wife next visited Paris with the intention of writing +a book. Their letters carried them into every circle of Parisian society, +and in each the popularity of Lady Morgan was unbounded. Madame Jerome +Bonaparte wrote to her: "The French admire you more than any one who has +appeared here since the battle of Waterloo in the form of an +Englishwoman." When _France_ appeared the clamor of abuse in England was +enough to appall a very stout heart. John Wilson Croker was one of her +most bitter assailants, and attempted to annihilate her in the +_Quarterly_. She balanced matters by caricaturing him as "Counsellor +Crawley" in her next novel, in a way that hit and hurt, and by a witticism +which lives, while his envenomed sentences are forgotten. Some one was +telling her that Croker was among the crowd who thought they could have +managed the battle of Waterloo much better than Wellington, whose success, +in their estimation, was only a fortunate mistake. She exclaimed, "Oh, I +can believe it. He had his secret for winning the battle: he had only to +put his _Notes on Boswell's Johnson_ in front of the British lines, and +all the Bonapartes that ever existed _could never have got through them_!" +Maginn, in _Blackwood_, gave unmerciful cuts at her superficial opinions, +ultra sentiments and chambermaid French. _Fraser's Magazine_ complimented +her sardonically on her simple style, being happy to observe that she had +reduced the number of languages used, as the Sibyl did her books, to +three, wisely discarding German, Spanish, the dead and Oriental languages. +But she received the cannonade, which would have crushed some women, with +perfect equanimity. As a compensation, she was the toast of the day, and +at some grand reception had a raised dais only a little lower than that +provided for the duchess de Berri. At a dinner at Baron Rothschild's, +Carême, the Delmonico of those times, surprised her with a column of +ingenious confectionery architecture on which was inscribed her name spun +in sugar. It was a more equivocal compliment when Walter Scott christened +two pet donkeys Hannah More and Lady Morgan. + +_Florence Macarthy_, another novel, attacking the social and political +abuses in Irish government, was her next work. Colburn, her publisher, who +had just presented her with a beautiful parure of amethysts, now proposed +that she and her husband should go to Italy. "Do it, and get up another +book--the lively lady to sketch men and manners, the metaphysical +balance-wheel contributing the solid chapters on laws, politics, science +and education." They accepted the offer, and received the same +extraordinary attentions as in their former tour. This may be accounted +for by the fact that it was well known that they were to prepare a book on +Italy. It was equally well known that Lady Morgan had a sharp tongue and +still sharper pen; so that people who lived in glass houses, as did many +of the magnates, were remarkably civil to "Miladi," even those who +regarded her tour among them as an unjustifiable invasion. Byron +pronounced this book an excellent and fearless work. During her sojourn in +Italy Lady Morgan became enthusiastic about Salvator Rosa, and began to +collect material for writing the history of his life and times, which was +her own favorite of all her writings. + +In 1825 the _Diary_ is started, chatty, full of gossip and incident. She +writes, October 30th: "A ballad-singer was this morning singing beneath my +window in a strain most unmusical and melancholy. My own name caught my +ear, and I sent Thomas out to buy the song. Here is a stanza: + + Och, Dublin City, there's no doubting, + Bates every city upon the say: + 'Tis there you'll hear O'Connell spouting, + And Lady Morgan making tay; + For 'tis the capital of the foinest nation, + Wid charming pisantry on a fruitful sod, + Fighting like divils for conciliation, + An' hating one another for the love o' God." + +_The O'Briens and O'Flahertys_ was published in 1827, and proved more +popular than any of her previous novels. There is an allusion to it in the +interesting account which Lord Albemarle gives us of his acquaintance with +Lady Morgan: "A number of pleasant people used to assemble of an evening +in Lady Morgan's 'nut-shell' in Kildare street. When I first met her she +was in the height of her popularity. In her new novel she tells me I am to +figure as a certain count, a great traveller who made a trip to Jerusalem +for the sole object of eating artichokes in their native country. The +chief attraction in the Kildare street 'at homes' was her sister Olivia +(Lady Clark), who used to compose and sing charming Irish songs, for the +most part squibs on the Dublin society of the day. One of the verses ran +thus: + + We're swarming alive, + Like bees in a hive, + With talent and janius and beautiful ladies: + We've a duke in Kildare, + And a Donnybrook Fair; + And if that wouldn't plaze, why nothing would plaze yez. + We've poets in plenty, + But not one in twenty + Will stay in ould Ireland to keep her from sinking: + They say they can't live + Where there's nothing to give. + Och, what business have poets with ating or dhrinking?" + +Justly proud of her sister, Lady Morgan was in the habit of addressing +every new-comer with, "I must make you acquainted with my Livy." She once +used this form of words to a gentleman who had just been worsted in a +fierce encounter of wit with the fascinating lady. "Yes, madam," he +replied, "I happen to know your Livy, and I only wish 'your Livy' was +_Tacitus_." + +Few of Lady Morgan's bon-mots have been preserved, but one is given which +shows that she occasionally indulged in a pun. Some one, speaking of a +certain bishop who was rather lax in his observance of Lent, said he +believed he would eat a horse on Ash-Wednesday. "Very suitable diet," +remarked her ladyship, "if it were a _fast_ horse." + +The _Diary_ progresses slowly by fitful jerks. Here is a characteristic +entry: "_April 3, 1834._ My journal is gone to the dogs. I am so fussed +and fidgeted by my dear, charming world that I cannot write: I forget days +and dates. Ouf! Last night, at Lady Stepney's, met the Milmans, Mrs. +Norton, Rogers, Sydney Smith and others--among them poor, dear Jane +Porter. She told me she was taken for me the other night, and talked to as +such by a party of Americans! _She_ is tall, lank and lean and +lackadaisical, dressed in the deepest black, with rather a battered black +gauze hat and the air of a regular Melpomene. _I_ am the reverse of all +this, and without vanity the best-dressed woman wherever I go. Last night +I wore a blue satin trimmed fully with magnificent point lace--light-blue +velvet hat and feather, with an aigrette of sapphires and diamonds. Voilà! +Lord Jeffrey came up to me, and we had _such_ a flirtation! When he comes +to Ireland we are to go to Donnybrook Fair together: in short, having cut +me down with his tomahawk as a reviewer, he smothers me with roses as a +man. I always say of my enemies before we meet, 'Let me at them!'" Of the +same soirée she writes again: "There was Miss Jane Porter, looking like a +shabby canoness. There was Mrs. Somerville in an astronomical cap. I +dashed in in my blue satin and point lace, and showed them how an +authoress should dress." + +Her conceit was fairly colossal. The reforms in legislation for Ireland +were, in her estimation, owing to her novel of _Florence Macarthy_. She +professed to have taught Taglioni the Irish jig: of her toilette, made +largely by her own hands, she was comically vain. In _The Fraserians_, a +charming off-hand description of the contributors to that magazine, Lady +Morgan is depicted trying on a big, showy bonnet before a mirror with a +funny mixture of satisfaction and anxiety as to the effect. + +Chorley, the feared and fearless critic of the _Athenæum_, speaks of Lady +Morgan as one of the most peculiar and original literary characters he +ever met. After a long and searching analysis he adds: "However free in +speech, she never shocked decorum--never had to be appealed or apologized +for as a forlorn woman of genius under difficulties." + +An American paper, the _Boston Literary Gazette_, gave a personal +description which was not sufficiently flattering, and roused the lady's +indignant comments. It dared to state that she was "short, with a broad +face, blue, inexpressive eyes, and seemed, if such a thing may be named, +about forty years of age." Imagine the sensations this paragraph produced! +She at once retorted, exclaiming in mock earnest, "I appeal! I appeal to +the Titian of his age and country--I appeal to you, Sir Thomas Lawrence. +Would you have painted a short, squat, broad-faced, inexpressive, +affected, Frenchified, Greenland-seal-like lady of any age? Would any +money have tempted you to profane your immortal pencil, consecrated by +Nature to the Graces, by devoting its magic to such a model as this +described by the Yankee artist of the _Boston Literary_? And yet you did +paint the picture of this Lapland Venus--this impersonation of a Dublin +Bay codfish!... Alas! no one could have said that I was forty then; and +this is the cruelest cut of all! Had it been thirty-nine or fifty! +Thirty-nine is still under the mark, and fifty so far beyond it, so +hopeless; but forty--the critical age, the Rubicon--I cannot, will not, +dwell on it. But, O America! land of my devotion and my idolatry! is it +from _you_ the blow has come? Let _Quarterlys_ and _Blackwoods_ libel, but +the _Boston Literary_! Et tu Brute!" + +In 1837 she received a pension of three hundred pounds a year in +recognition of her literary merits. In 1839 she published a book entitled +_Woman and her Master_, as solid and solemn and dull as if our vivacious +friend had put herself into a strait-jacket and swallowed a dose of starch +and valerian. + +The closing chapter of any life must of necessity be sad, friends falling +to the grave like autumn leaves. First her beloved husband died, then her +darling sister Olivia; and her journal she now calls her "Doomsday Book." +Yet in 1850 she thoroughly enjoyed a sharp pen-encounter with Cardinal +Wiseman on a statement about St. Peter's chair made in her work on Italy. +She writes: "Lots of notes and notices of my letter to Cardinal Wiseman. +It has had the run of all the newspapers. The little old woman lives +still." December 25, 1858, was her last birthday. She assembled a few old +friends at dinner, and did the honors with all the brilliancy of her +brightest days. She told a variety of anecdotes with infinite drollery, +and after dinner sang a broadly comic song of Father Prout's-- + + The night before Larry was stretched, + The boys they all paid him a visit. + +It was a custom in Ireland to "wake" a man who was to be hung, the night +before the execution, so that the poor fellow might enjoy the whiskey +drunk in his honor. There was one book more, "positively the last," but +she never gave up her pen, "her worn-out stump of a goosequill," until her +physician literally took it from her feeble fingers. She had grown old +gracefully, showing great kindness to young authors, enduring partial +blindness and comparative neglect with true dignity and cheerfulness, her +heart always young. She met death patiently and with unfailing courage on +the evening of the 16th of April, 1859. + +KATE A. SANBORN. + + + + +A COMPARISON. + + + I think, ofttimes, that lives of men may be + Likened to wandering winds that come and go, + Not knowing whence they rise, whither they blow + O'er the vast globe, voiceful of grief or glee. + Some lives are buoyant zephyrs sporting free + In tropic sunshine; some long winds of woe + That shun the day, wailing with murmurs low, + Through haunted twilights, by the unresting sea; + Others are ruthless, stormful, drunk with might, + Born of deep passion or malign desire: + They rave 'mid thunder-peals and clouds of fire. + Wild, reckless all, save that some power unknown + Guides each blind force till life be overblown, + Lost in vague hollows of the fathomless Night. + +PAUL H. HAYNE. + + + + +THROUGH WINDING WAYS. + +CHAPTER XI. + + +No boy with the ordinary sources of pleasurable activity open to him can +realize the gloom and despondency I felt at times when cut off from the +healthful energies of other men. I was no longer morbid; I would not allow +myself to feel that my infirmity was a bar to the enjoyment of life; yet, +all the same, I dreaded society and shrank from the fresh conviction of +inferiority I was certain to experience in going out with Harry, who was +strongest where I was so weak. He was the most delightful fellow in +society that I have ever seen. He comprehended everybody and everything +with the grasp of an ardent and sympathetic spirit. He was happy in +possessing a natural facility for pleasing women of all ages and all +degrees. The professors' wives and daughters were all in love with him: +his rooms were full of the work of white hands. He had as many +smoking-caps as there are days in the week, and might have fitted out the +entire class with slippers. But nobody wondered: he was so handsome and +tall and godlike that every woman believed in him, and felt the charm of +his grand manner, which put romance and chivalry into the act of helping +her over a puddle. + +I probably felt more reverence for the meanest woman we met in the street +than he did for his grandest friend in society; but, nevertheless, his +splendid courtesy illuminated the slightest social duty, whereas I stood +rayless beside him. He had been unlucky where his mother was concerned: +she was a weak woman to begin with, had never loved her husband, and had +left him for another man, whom she married after the disgrace and sorrow +she caused had killed her boy's father. Harry never spoke of this, but, +perhaps unconsciously to himself, it had changed the feeling he might have +had toward women into something defiant and cynical; and the attraction +they possessed for him was in danger of becoming debased, since he admired +them, old and young, with too scanty a respect, and believed too little in +the worth of any emotion they awoke in his heart or mind. + +It had been a matter of discussion between Harry and myself whether we +should attend Mrs. Dwight's party. But Jack had peremptory orders to bring +us both, and of course when the evening came we went. I had not seen +Georgy Lenox since the visit she had paid me a few months after my +accident, and I had often told myself that I wished never to see her any +more. Yet now that I was again near her I was eager to meet and talk with +her. I had often felt myself superior to other fellows of my age on +account of this very experience of living down a passion; but since I had +received her note I might have known that my experience had done little +for me--that I had merely been removed from temptation; for, school myself +as I might, my blood was leaping in my veins at the thought of looking +into her eyes again. One cannot be twenty and be wise at the same time. +But then in some matters a man is never wise, let his age be what it may. + +Mrs. Dwight's parlors were long and spacious and splendidly furnished. +They were well filled too before we entered, for we were so anxious to do +the most truly elegant thing to-night that we had put off making our +appearance until long past ten o'clock. Whatever expectations we may have +had of making a sensation in the rooms were considerably damped by the +awkwardness of our début. Jack knew the house, and at once skirted the +crowd to find what he wanted, but Harry and I were obliged to stand still +in a corner, ignorant of everything save the name of our hostess, waiting +for something to turn up. The ordeal was not so disagreeable as it might +seem. The band played in the alcove, the women were well dressed and, to +our eyes, radiantly beautiful, while the men appealed to our critical +curiosity. Plenty of our college dons were there, and many of the leading +men of the day, but more interesting to us were the perfectly-dressed, +graceful society-men a little beyond our own age: these we watched +carefully, with the superior air of contempt with which every man of every +age views the social success of others; yet we envied them nevertheless. +In one of these we simultaneously recognized an old friend, and exclaimed +together, "If there isn't Thorpe!" + +And Thorpe indeed it was, better dressed, handsomer, more consummately the +finished man of the world, than ever. He was conversing with a stout, +elderly lady with gray puffs stiffly fixed on her temples and white +feathers in her braids, who was discoursing fluently to him on some +subject in which he seemed profoundly interested. Suddenly, however, his +eyes dilated and his face gained expression: he had met my eyes and nodded +with a half smile, and within five minutes he had adroitly bestowed the +old lady in an easy-chair and planted three professors before her, and was +shaking hands with us. We were rather proud of the exhibition of pleasure +he made at the encounter. True, it was languid and there was an air of +amused condescension in the way he accepted our cordial greetings; but we +were still boyish enough to like to feel him above and beyond us, although +not unattainable. + +"Well, old fellow," he remarked presently to Harry, "why are you penned up +here? Is it as sheep or wolves that you are kept out of the fold? Why +aren't you dancing?" + +"We only just came in," returned Harry, "and we don't know the hostess by +sight, and have nobody to speak to." + +"Why, that was Mrs. Dwight I was talking with just now.--A terrible old +woman, Floyd: I will introduce you presently, as soon as that crowd clears +away. I understand you came by invitation from Miss Lenox. Seen her?" + +We had seen nobody, we were obliged to confess. + +"Miss Georgy is having a good time. I put in my claim as an old Belfield +friend for a couple of waltzes. She has the best pace of any woman here. +Handsome girl, but dangerous: devilish amusing, though. Wonder where she +got her ideas in that cramped, puritanical little place? Pity she's going +to marry such a slow coach as Jack Holt! Beg your pardon--nothing +derogatory intended. You must yourself admit that he is rather slow.--By +the by, Floyd, how's the heiress?" + +I knew whom he meant, but did not like his tone, and asked him squarely to +whom he referred. + +He laughed, and looked at me with close scrutiny. "I alluded to Miss +Floyd," said he, twisting his long moustache with his gloved fingers. "I +don't know many heiresses myself, unlucky dog that I am! and she is such a +tremendous one--she is _the_ heiress _par éminence_. She must be fifteen +by this time. Remember me to her when you see her, Floyd; or perhaps you +write to her?" + +"Not at all," I answered. + +"Is she as pretty as ever?" he pursued. + +"Pretty? She never seemed to me pretty." + +"Oh, you are too young to recognize beauty when you see it. She was the +loveliest child I ever knew, with her pale complexion, her brilliant eyes +and aristocratic profile. Georgy Lenox is a gaudy transparency beside her. +But I forgot: I must come out and see you at your rooms. Only don't bore +me: it is the fashion at universities to talk of subjects never discussed +anywhere else by civilized beings, and I can't abide such rubbish. I hear +you're quite the pride of your class, Floyd?" + +"Oh, what wretched nonsense!" + +"Your modesty pleases me.--Come on, boys: Mrs. Dwight is looking at us." + +And we were introduced to our hostess at last, who received us in a manner +expressive of our social insignificance. "Dear me!" said she placidly, +"have you just come in? You're very late. I supposed everybody was here +long ago. Georgy asked my permission to invite some students: I never do +that sort of thing myself. There is really no end to it, you know. +Besides, I suppose your time is quite taken up with your studies and your +boating and your flirtations. Do you dance?--There's Georgy Lenox +beckoning to you, Mr. Dart." Harry darted off, and was lost in the crowd +before I had a chance to follow him with my eyes, for Mrs. Dwight, feeling +the need of support or wishing to be guided into another room, had put her +arm within mine, thus compelling my attention. Her conversation still +continued in a steady stream. It had occurred to her that I was in some +way connected with Mr. Floyd, whose reputation was national, and she went +on reviving reminiscences of him while we strolled about. She addressed me +with such unhesitating talkativeness that I succumbed at once, and became +an easy prey. What she said was quite uninteresting, besides being +rambling in a degree which hindered my getting the smallest idea of her +meaning; but her own enjoyment of her loquaciousness never once faltered, +and she discoursed as fluently as an eighteenth-century poet, and without +any more idea of the grace of finishing within a reasonable time. How I +envied Thorpe's easy method of withdrawing from her attack! how I longed +for some flank movement to draw off her attention! I was weaving futile +plans of escape, when suddenly a radiant creature in blue and white gauze, +the swirl of whose long skirts I had watched as I listened to Mrs. Dwight, +paused in the waltz close beside me, turned, looked me in the face and +patted my arm with her fan. "Floyd!" she cried, "Floyd Randolph! don't you +know me?" + +Mrs. Dwight vanished, I do not remember how or where. Everybody vanished: +I seemed to be alone in the world staring into Georgy Lenox's face. + +"Cousin Maria had fastened upon you like the Ancient Mariner," prattled +Georgy, laughing. "That is her way. If she fancies a young man, she bears +down upon him, and with one fell swoop carries him off. How melancholy you +looked! But you are as grave as ever now. Aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Oh yes, I am glad," I told her, but felt a weight upon my tongue, and +could not find expression for any thoughts which moved me. For, let it be +understood, I was powerfully impressed by her, and in a moment had changed +from what I was before I met her. She talked on rapidly, looking at me +kindly, and doubtless by this time sufficiently understood her power over +our sex to realize that under certain conditions words mean little on a +man's tongue, while silence confesses much. But, counting time by minutes, +I was with her but a very little while before half a dozen partners came +toward her claiming her for a new waltz. + +"Ask me to dance, Floyd," she whispered. + +"I do not dance, Georgy," I returned gravely, and drew back; and presently +she was whirling about again, her flower-crowned head gyrating against +first one black-coated shoulder and then another. + +I saw Jack Holt leaning against a pillar, and went up to him. "How do you +get on, Floyd?" he asked in his slow, easy way. "Rather heavy work, eh?" + +"Not at all," said I, feeling all the keen joy of youth: "I think it +delightful. Miss Lenox spoke to me, Jack. Of course you have seen her." + +"Oh yes," Jack laughed good-naturedly. "She at once told me I looked +countrified and old-fashioned--that my hair was too long and my gloves +were outrageous. In fact, she was ashamed to own me, and declared that +nothing should induce her to confess she was engaged to me until I looked +less seedy." + +We both laughed at this. Jack had a handsome allowance, which he spent +almost entirely upon the girl he loved. She was quite used to his +generosity toward her and self-denial toward himself, and gave him no more +credit for it than the rest of us award to the blessings we count on +assuredly. + +"You don't mind her nonsense, Jack?" + +"Not at all. She has such spirits she must chatter. You haven't seen her +for ages, Floyd: do you think her improved? Has she grown handsomer?" + +I was conscious of a dulness and thickness in my voice as I replied, "She +is much handsomer." + +"She is more womanly," pursued Jack: "I think her manner has softened a +little. There is more tenderness about it: as a girl she was sometimes a +trifle--hard. Now--But you see how she is, Floyd: there is nobody like +her. Good God! I ask myself sometimes what that perfect creature can see +in me." + +"A good deal apparently, since she is to be your wife." I said it without +faltering, and felt better after it. Something seemed to clear away from +my brain, and I could look at Georgy now with less emotion. She was all +that was bright and beautiful and winning, but--she was engaged to Jack +Holt. She showed slight consciousness of any restraint on her perfect +freedom, however, and gave away Jack's roses, purchased that day at a high +figure, before his eyes. Once or twice, when she passed us, she smiled and +nodded in the gayest good spirits; and at last, when she was tired of +dancing and wanted an ice, she beckoned to Jack, put her hand inside his +arm and led him into the conservatory. + +"How well she does it!" said Harry Dart, coming up to me. "Quite the +brilliant belle! By Jove! how she dances! I despise the girl with her +greedy maw, and deuced airs of high gentility when she is a perfect +beggar, but it is a second heaven to dance with her. She has the _go_ of a +wild animal in her. She is a little like a panther--so round, so sleek, so +agile in her spring. I told her just now I should like to paint +her--yellow eyes, hair like an aureole, supple form and satin coat--lying +on a panther-skin." + +"Her eyes are not yellow." + +"By Jove! they are. When she's dancing her whole face changes: she looks +dangerous." + +"I don't like your tone when you speak of her, Harry." + +"Oh! don't you? One of these days both you and Jack will be wiser where +that girl is concerned." + +But Jack came back to us presently, quite contented to look at her +successes and not to speak to her again that evening. At supper-time we +watched her from a distance, and a more brilliant young coquette than Miss +Georgy showed herself to be I have never seen. She looked more and more +beautiful as the night wore on, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her +eyes dilating, her hair loosening. Men full fledged though we considered +ourselves now in our senior year, we felt like boys before her. Every man +in the room seemed proud of her slightest mark of attention. Tall dandies +with ineffable composure and a consummate air of worldly knowledge; +tranquil, dreamy-eyed literary men; solid citizens with stiff white +side-whiskers and red faces,--all were in her train. Harry withdrew from +her at last, becoming, as I was, quite oppressed with a sense of his youth +and worthlessness. + +Thorpe good-naturedly came up to us as we three stood leaning against the +wall, tired and depressed, yet feeling no wish to get away until everybody +else had gone, and asked us how we liked it, if we had been introduced, +and all that. It came out then that Jack and I had not once thought of any +woman in the rooms except Georgy; and until Thorpe questioned me it had +not occurred to my mind that there was anything to do at the party but to +speak to Georgy if possible, or, failing that bliss, to watch her from a +distance. Harry laughed at me, and discussed the beauties of the ball with +Thorpe, who was fastidious and considered few girls handsome--in fact, was +so minute in his criticisms that Jack, always more than chivalrous in his +thoughts of women, left us, and with his hands crossed behind him looked +at the pictures on the walls of an inner room quite deserted now. The +conversation turned on Miss Lenox at once, and Thorpe said he was amazed +to find the girl so capable of achieving an easy success and bearing it so +well. "Where," he pursued with his graceful air, "did she learn those +enchanting prettinesses, those wonderful little caprices of manner? Could +they have been acquired in the genteel dreariness of Belfield?" + +"I should like to know," rejoined Harry with disdain, "if she has not +been practising them for twenty years? She flirted with Jack and Floyd +here when they used to buy her a penny's worth of peppermint, before they +were out of petticoats themselves. I dare say she made eyes at old Lenox +when he rocked her in the cradle." + +"And she is going to marry Holt? I suppose she makes the sacrifice on +account of his money. He takes it quietly and doesn't mind her flirting. +Is he cold, insensible, or has he such complete belief in her regard for +him?" + +Harry laughed: "Jack is too good himself not to believe in the goodness of +others. It is just as well. Nobody sees the Devil but those who have faith +in the Devil. I dare say she'll make him as good a wife as he wants: her +aspirations are all for wealth, and her extravagance will be her chief +fault." + +Thorpe shrugged his shoulders. "She will have several faults," said he +with a cynical air. "But I can forgive them all in so pretty a woman, and +admire her immensely as another man's wife." + +Harry declared he saw nothing particular about the girl except her beauty, +and a more unscrupulous resolve to make the most of it and its effect upon +men than other young women had the nerve to adhere to. "But look there!" +he cried: "see old Applegate" (one of our professors) "simpering over her +bouquet and smiling into her eyes. Wretched old mummy! what does he want +to go to parties for?" For we all held the ingenuous opinion that anybody, +man or woman, ten years or more older than ourselves, ought to stay at +home, eschew pleasure and devote their highest powers to keeping out of +the way of the young people to whom the world rightfully belonged. + +But the sight of old Applegate emboldened me. If she would talk so kindly +to him, why might she not give me one more word? I had no awe of the +professor, and had taken an æsthetic tea at his dismal house, and seen a +weak-eyed, sallow Mrs. Applegate and five lank little Applegates. +Accordingly, I limped across the room to the spot where Miss Lenox stood, +and was rewarded by a bright smile and an immediate air of attention. "I +want to talk to Mr. Randolph," said she, claiming her bouquet from the +professor, who regarded me with a bland smile. "He and I are the oldest +friends, but we have not seen each other for years. You won't mind, +professor?" + +He heaved a sigh. "Randolph gets all the prizes," said he good-naturedly: +"it is never of any use competing with him;" and he left us alone. + +I had but five minutes to speak to Georgina, but when I left her she had +made me promise to call on her next day at twelve o'clock. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"You need not tell Jack," Georgy had said to me when we made the +appointment, with a sudden smile and half blush; but I resisted the +suggestion, and told Jack at breakfast that I should call upon Miss Lenox +at noon. + +"I am so glad!" said he, "for, on my word, I am too busy to go near her in +the daytime. Tell her I should like to have gone with you, but must dig, +dig, dig, or I shall never pass those examinations." + +I have always been glad I was true to Jack in the letter of my actions. As +for the spirit, it is hard for any young fellow of twenty, with ardent +impulses just awakening, to keep it cribbed within prudent limitations. +Georgy's smiles had thrown a sudden illumination into my soul, and I +understood myself better than I had done yesterday. I had hitherto thought +myself a quiet fellow, but nothing to-day could cheat me out of the +knowledge of my youth. + +I found Georgy in a little back parlor, the third room of Mrs. Dwight's +gorgeous suite, curled up on a blue sofa in a white morning dress of the +simplest make, and her hair on her shoulders in the old fashion, quite +transforming her from the brilliant young lady she had seemed the night +before. She did not move as I came in, but lay still, pale and heavy-eyed, +and stretched out a little lifeless hand. "I am too tired to lift my +head," she said plaintively; and I, feeling myself an intruder, proposed +to go away at once. + +"Oh, nonsense, you foolish boy!" she cried, laughing. "That is the very +reason I wanted you to come. I am always dreary after excitement, and I +knew you would put me in good spirits. Sit down." + +I took a chair at the other side of the fireplace. + +"Why do you go away so far?" she asked pettishly. "Are you afraid I shall +eat you? Come here;" and she indicated a chair close by her sofa at which +I had looked longingly while fearing to venture so near. + +"There!" she said with an air of comfort, and looked into my face with the +open-eyed simplicity of a child. "Oh, Floyd," she exclaimed, but under her +breath, "I am so glad to see you again! Are you glad to be here with me?" + +"Very glad: it is not worth while saying how glad." + +"Why not? I never enjoyed anything half so much as I enjoyed last evening, +and half of it was because you were looking on. Tell me honestly now, was +I a success?" + +"So great a success that I wondered so superb a belle cared to speak to a +boy like me. I often used to think of your future, Georgy, and had many +brilliant dreams for you: I have no doubt that you will fulfil them all." + +She had quite lost her air of weariness, and flashed into life and +brilliance, and, starting up, was so close to me that I could feel the +warmth and fragrance of her cheek and hair. I should have drawn away my +chair, but that she had herself placed it; and now she fastened her little +slippered feet on the rounds and looked into my eyes thus closely with the +enchanting freedom of a child. + +"It is so nice to hear you say such things!" she ran on, cooing into my +ear. "I am so glad you meet me kindly! I have cried sometimes to think +that my naughtiness at The Headlands had quite estranged you." + +"Oh no. Why should you blame yourself?" + +"Because I was to blame. But, Floyd, if you only knew what I have suffered +you would forgive me. Say that you forgive me." + +She slid a slim satin hand into mine. I was not at all certain to what she +was alluding, but I took pleasure in assuring her that if I had anything +to forgive, I forgave it from my heart. + +She withdrew her hand after a time with a sudden hauteur and caprice of +prudery, which was perhaps one of those delightful little ways to which +Thorpe had alluded. + +"I missed you so after you left Belfield," she went on, her color +deepening as she spoke. "Everything seemed dull. No matter what we tried +to do, it seemed duller than what had gone before." + +We were all of us strong in quotations in those days; accordingly I +quoted-- + + "Peter was dull: he was at first + Dull--oh, so dull! so very dull! + Whether he talked, wrote or rehearsed, + Still with the dulness was he cursed-- + Dull--beyond all conception dull." + +"Oh, how clever!" she exclaimed. "Did you write it?" + +"Well, no: I think not." + +"But you can do such things. You are so clever, everything is easy to you. +That is why I always liked you better than any one else. You have +sympathy, wit, imagination. You understand things up to the heights and +down to the depths. Harry Dart is a little like you: he has wit and +imagination, but he is flippant, he has no sympathy. Poor old Jack has +plenty of sympathy, but neither wit nor imagination." + +"Nevertheless," said I, trying to control my voice, "it is Jack who has +won you: the rest of us are nowhere. He is the lucky one of us three." + +"Do you think him lucky?" she asked with a trembling, uncertain little +laugh. "I am very grateful to him for trying to win me: not many would +have done it, knowing all the circumstances of my family--all our faults +and humiliations. I am not like other girls, Floyd. They may fall in love, +and strive and hope and wait, with poetic dreams and trembling desires, to +end in rapturous fulfilment. Not so with me. I must marry early, and +marry a man who has wealth, to help those who expect everything from me. +My destiny came to me ready-made: I accepted it. The poetry and the +romance and the wild wish to love and be loved, as I might be if I could +afford to wait, were all put by for hard, practical common sense." + +I could see only the sweet pathetic droop of the lips, for her face was +turned away and downward. There was a moment's silence between us, but she +broke it with another of those uncertain little laughs and a glance at me. +"I don't know why I have told you this," she said softly. "Don't think I +under-value Jack. He has all the best qualities a man can possess for +success in life, but none of those essential for winning a woman's heart. +Why, Floyd--But tell me, could you do your stupid old lessons with me +looking over you?" + +Our eyes met, and we both laughed: I shook my head. + +"Oh, but Jack can," she cried triumphantly. "He amuses me that way +sometimes, and my fascinations never disturb the even tenor of his +thoughts: he will plod on with his foolish old mathematics with my head on +his shoulder. There! I oughtn't to have said that," she added with a +little grimace. "Don't tell Jack." + +I certainly had no thought of telling Jack. + +"As for you, Floyd," she went on more softly, "you will never grow so +hard-hearted. To the end of your life all the beautiful faces in the world +will set you dreaming. Do you think I have forgotten the old days when you +told me about Mignon and Rosalind, Mary Queen of Scots, Helen, Cleopatra, +and Gretchen in that tiresome German poem you used to be so fond of +reading. Even the thought of those fair women--some of them mere poetic +creations, others mortal women long since gone to dust--used to cause you +more heart-throbs than Jack will ever feel for all the rosy cheeks and +bright eyes that are close beside him." + +"Upon my word," said I abruptly, "you don't begin to know Jack's feeling +for you." + +"Pshaw! That is what he is always telling me. I know he wants to marry me: +he has a talent for the domestic. His most romantic dream is of a +fireside, an easy-chair and me." She looked up at me and laughed. "I +suppose," she went on with a resigned air, "that I shall have to wear +aprons and make puddings. But enough of our prosaic ménage: I shall not be +married for a year yet. Talk to me about something else--about your +mother, Mr. Floyd and Helen--about everybody except that odious Mr. +Raymond." + +"My mother is in New York with my aunt, Mrs. Woolsey," I returned. "We +were all--my mother, Helen and Mr. Raymond, and I--at Mr. Floyd's house in +Washington through the holidays. I have seen none of them since." + +Georgy looked at me with peculiar intentness. "Tell me about that," she +said eagerly. + +"About our visit? Oh, it was pleasant. Mr. Floyd had planned it several +times, but something had always happened hitherto to prevent it. Of course +we saw constantly all the foremost people. Mr. Floyd had a dinner-party +every night, and my mother and Helen were no end of belles." + +"Helen! little Helen a belle?" + +"You would have thought so. She presided at the table, and the old men +were in ecstasies over her beauty, grace and grand manners. Mr. Floyd was +so happy and proud he could not keep his eyes from her." + +"She is only fifteen," observed Georgy, a little dissatisfaction clouding +her lovely face. "She is too young to be in society. But she has +everything, can do everything: it has always been so. Oh, if I were that +girl!--I suppose you are in love with her, Floyd." + +"I in love with Helen?" I did not say any more. Helen was a tall, slim +girl now, but with a frigid air about her which indisposed me to +admiration. How different from Georgy, whose smile and glance thawed +reserve and drew me close to her! I did not define the meaning of the +warm lovelight in her eyes, nor ask whether it was a perpetual fire, a +lure to all men, or merely a sign for me. Sitting beside her, I was +conscious of an atmosphere emanating as it were from the warmth and +kindness of her smile and glance--an atmosphere which in itself was +delicious and complete, predisposing me to dreamy, happy silence. To be +near her was to feel in a high degree the beauty and power of woman: full +of loveliness as were the arch, mobile face, the glorious hair, the eyes +with their life and tenderness, the perfect lips, they were but a small +part of her charm, which seemed to breathe from the statuesque pose of +bust and neck and head, and the supple grace of her every movement. + +She questioned me minutely concerning Mr. Floyd. He was no longer in +office now, but was spending his time at The Headlands with Mr. Raymond +and Helen until I should be ready in July to sail with him for Europe. It +was quite easy to perceive that the moment we touched upon this new +subject Georgy's composure and gayety were alike banished, and as I knew +that reasons existed which made The Headlands and Helen's society +forbidden ground for her, I would have changed to other topics; but she +kept on pertinaciously in her questionings until, with all my wish to +please her, I grew weary. + +It was quite as well, however, that my first enchantment should be a +little abated before I left her, and I went away thinking for a time more +about her curiosity concerning Helen and Mr. Floyd than about the rose on +her cheeks and the light in her eyes. I had no intention of bidding her a +final good-bye when I shook hands with her, but it fell out that more than +two years were to pass before I looked upon her face again. + +I think my mental equilibrium was perhaps a little disturbed by this +interview with her. She had--perhaps carelessly, perhaps with some faint +suggestion of truth--said some things which I could not forget. Had she +not told me she liked me better than anybody else? What did she mean? how +much did she mean? I knew that she spoke heedlessly at times--that she +possessed no intellectual discipline, no mental accuracy to measure the +force of her words. I knew, too, that coquetry and feminine instinct +impelled her to use her strongest weapons against any masculine adversary. +Yet, subtracting all these influences from her speech, it was still left +fraught with delicious meaning. I had no wish to wrong Jack, but my vanity +was tickled by the suggestion that I had something which was my own hidden +treasure. I found a line which suited the sentimental nature of my +thoughts. "The children of Alice call Bertram father." I used to repeat it +to myself with exquisite pain, and think of the time when I should see +Jack with his wife beside him, their children at their feet. "The children +of Alice call Bertram father." I was impressed with the deep romance of +common life, and wrote more bad verses at that period than I would have +confessed to my dearest friend. + +Harry Dart, who was the closest observer of our coterie, was not long in +making the discovery that I was despondent about something, and presently +taxed me with being in love with Georgy Lenox. I found myself terribly +vexed with him, and also with myself, but not on my own account. I could +not reply to his raillery. It seemed to me horribly unfair for him to +steal my shadow of a secret and then proclaim it aloud; but I was not so +badly off but that I could stand what he said about myself. In fact, I was +glad to be held up to ridicule, and, thus disillusionized, see my fault in +its true colors. It seemed to me unworthy of Harry to attack a defenceless +girl in this way, engaged, too, as she was to his cousin. Had I not known +him all my life as well as I knew myself, I should have suspected that +something underlay his malice--that she had injured him in some way, and +that he was ungenerous enough thus to gratify an unreasonable spite. + +Jack and I were out one evening, and returning entered our sitting-room +together, and found Harry there with two or three men not belonging to the +college, and among them Thorpe. It was evident to me that they changed +their subject as we entered, but the talk at once flowed again, and Harry +excelled as usual in quaint fancies, happy repartees and sharp flings at +all of us while he lay stretched out in my reclining-chair smoking before +the fire. Jack had evidently been to see Georgy, and looked dreamy and +content, and joined the circle instead of going at once to his books. +Thorpe made allusion once or twice to his pleasant abstraction, but Jack +was indifferent, and even after the visitors were gone he sat looking at +the fire with a sort of smile on his face. + +"Well, old fellow," said I after a time, "don't waste all that pleasant +material for dreams on yourself." + +He rose, stretched himself, and laughed in his soft, pleasant way. "I've +got three hours' hard work before me," he remarked, "and I had better go +at it at once." + +"Where have you been?" asked Harry dryly. + +"With Georgy," Jack answered unsuspiciously.--"Boys, I warn you against +being engaged while you have a demand for brains. I should like to dawdle +here before the fire until morning thinking of her." + +"Spare me!" exclaimed Harry cynically. "I have heard enough praise of Miss +Georgy for one evening. Ted Hutchinson was talking about her." And with a +burst of wrath he went on, retailing the gossip of the night: Ted knew +nothing of her engagement, and was wild about her--had sent her a bracelet +anonymously, and been thrilled with delight when she showed it to him on +her white arm, wondering who could have been so kind. Thorpe too had +collected various items of news about her. There was old Blake, a +widower--who ought to have known better, for he had three grown-up +children--sending her bouquets, driving her about the country and getting +boxes at the theatre. There was Bob Anderson, who had laid a wager that he +would-- + +"Stop, Harry," said Jack, his kind face very sober. "I do not think you +remember that you are talking to the man who has the honor to be engaged +to Miss Lenox." + +"I think the man who does her that honor ought to know the talk prevalent +among the fellows who meet her night after night and visit her day after +day." + +"It is a woman's misfortune that the men who are most at leisure to seek +her society are apt to be those who are least worthy to meet her on +intimate terms. The men who will use a woman's name freely in public are +men who will not hesitate to slander her." + +"I am not slandering her," cried Harry, starting up and facing Jack with a +white face and blazing eyes. "She has accepted a bracelet from Ted +Hutchinson. I know the very price he paid for it. Thorpe helped him to +choose it, and told Miss Lenox so next day." + +Jack's face puckered. "The bracelet will go back," he said in a low voice. + +Harry burst out laughing: "You will find that if she is to return her +_gages d'amour_, a good many fellows will be richer than they are to-day. +She will accept anything a man offers her; and a wise man does not give +jewels for nothing, Jack." + +I went out quietly. I had feared it would come to this, and since Harry +was determined to ease his mind to his cousin, it was better that none but +Holt's ears should burn with what he had to hear. I was not ignorant of +the talk that was going on; and perhaps it was better that Jack should +know a little of the weakness that lessened his darling in the eyes of +men. But I had not left them ten minutes before Jack opened the door of my +room and called me back. The sound of his voice startled me, and the sight +of his stern, cold face awed me somewhat, as it had awed Harry, who looked +at me uneasily as I came in. We all three stood regarding each other a +moment in silence, then Dart withdrew to the window and leaned against it, +his arms folded and his eyes downcast. + +"You heard the first of Harry's allegations against Miss Lenox," said +Holt, breaking the pause: "he has followed them up with accusations more +definite.--Harry, repeat what you just told me." + +Harry seemed quite crestfallen, "D----the business!" he muttered doggedly: +"it's none of my affair." + +"But you seem to have made it your affair," pursued Holt with calmness. "I +request you to repeat to Floyd what you said to me concerning him." + +"I said," exclaimed Harry recklessly, "that I knew Miss Lenox to be very +generous with certain favors which as a rule are reserved by +discriminating young ladies for their engaged lovers." + +"Go on: I do not call that a definite accusation." + +"I said," pursued Harry with a peculiar glance at me, "that I knew fellows +who had kissed her. Jack is bent on knowing the name of one of these +fellows, and I mentioned yours." + +I felt my face flame, and in spite of myself my eyes fell. + +"Tell me the truth, Floyd," said Jack gently. "Have you come between +Georgy and me as a lover of hers, winning away her regard for me?" + +"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed, "no, no, no! I never kissed Georgy but once, +and then I lay an almost hopeless cripple in my chair at Belfield, and she +kissed me as she would have kissed any other sick, miserable boy." + +Jack laughed, and his face cleared. "Oh, Harry," said he, "you foolish +fellow! to talk such nonsense!--I beg your pardon, Floyd, for seeming to +believe for a moment that you were not an honest friend of mine." We shook +hands.--"Come here, Harry," he went on with perfect good-nature: "I +promise to forgive and forget this talk of yours on condition that you do +not meddle in future between Georgy and me. You never liked her--you never +did her justice. Come, now, are you prepared to hold your tongue in +future?" + +Harry shrugged his broad shoulders. "Done!" said he, holding out his hand. +"I had no business to listen to Thorpe--less still to gossip to you--less +still to tell lies about Floyd here. I'm awfully ashamed of myself. Don't +lay it up against me." + +"I am a quiet fellow," said Jack, eying us both keenly--"I don't parade my +feelings--but there is no child's play in the regard I have for the girl +I love. I know her faults--I pity them: I hope, please God, to root them +out, for they are the fruit of an imperfect education and a false example. +She does not yet have the protection of my name, yet I should have hoped +that my friends would have respected me enough not to listen to any light +mention of the woman sacred to me above all others. I have no jealousy in +me, but if a man, friend or no friend, dared to come between me and the +girl I loved--" He broke off abruptly, and his clenched right hand opened +and shut. "Mark me," he added, controlling himself, "I have perfect faith +in Georgina. The one who tries to make me distrust her wastes his +breath.--Remember this, Harry. I have heard you once, and forgive you and +love you all the same, but my forbearance has its limits." He went into +his room and shut the door. + +The moment we were alone I turned on Harry. "What on earth did you mean?" +I demanded, half in anger, half in a stupefaction of surprise, at his +daring to calumniate me. + +"Lay on," said he, sinking into the nearest chair: "I richly deserve it. +But the truth was, I had already said too much. I knew that you were +behaving respectably, and could deny what I alleged; whereas in some other +cases we might have got shipwrecked upon grim facts." + +I stared at him: "Do you mean to say that you knew what you were talking +about?" + +He bowed his head. There was a dejected look about him: he glanced at his +watch, yawned and went to bed. + +Throughout the remainder of the term Georgy's name was not once spoken +among us, and Harry's affection and devotion to his cousin were touchingly +displayed. Men as they were, I have seen Harry on the arm of Jack's chair +talking to him with his hand over his shoulder. Dart was to sail for +Europe before commencement, and the cloud of separation seemed to lie upon +him heavily. + +ELLEN W. OLNEY. + +[TO BE CONTINUED.] + + + + +COMMUNISTS AND CAPITALISTS. + +A SKETCH FROM LIFE. + + +The Countess von Arno was Mr. Seleigman's confidential clerk. Not that +M---- smiled over any such paradox: the countess called herself simply +Mrs. von Arno. + +M---- is a picturesque town on the Mississippi, devoted in general to the +manufacture of agricultural implements. The largest plough-factory is +Seleigman's: he does business all over the world. A clerk who wrote +French, German and Italian fluently was a godsend. This clerk, moreover, +had an eminently concise and effective style, and displayed a business +capacity which the old German admired immensely. As much because of her +usefulness as the modest sum she was able to invest in the business, he +offered her a small share in it four years after she first came to M----. +She had come to M---- because Mrs. Greymer lived there. Therese Greymer +had known the countess from her school-days. When her husband died she +came back to her father's house, but spent her summers in Germany. Then +old Mr. Dare died suddenly, leaving Therese with her little brother to +care for, and only a few thousand dollars in the world. About this time +the countess separated from her husband. "So I am poor," said she, "but it +will go hard if I can't take care of you, Therese." Thus she became Mr. +Seleigman's clerk. M---- forgave her the clerkship, forgave her even her +undoubted success in making money, on account of Mrs. Greymer. It had +watched Therese grow from a slim girl, with black braids hanging down her +white neck as she sat in the "minister's pew" of the old brick church, +into a beautiful pale woman in a widow's bonnet. Therese went now every +Sunday to the same church where her father used to preach. The countess +accompanied her most decorously. She was a pagan at heart, but it pleased +Therese. In church she spent her time looking at her friend's profile and +calculating the week's sales. + +The countess had a day-dream: the dreams which most women have had long +ago been rudely broken for her, and the hopes which she cherished now had +little romance about them. She knew her own powers and how necessary she +was to Seleigman: some day she saw the firm becoming Seleigman & Von Arno, +the business widening, and the ploughs, with the yellow eagle on them, in +every great city of Europe. "Then," said the countess to herself, standing +one March morning, four years after she had first come to M----, by the +little dining-room window--"then we can perhaps persuade the workmen to +buy stock in the concern and have a few gleams of sense about profits and +wages." + +She lifted one arm above her head and rested her cheek against it. Otto +von Arno during his brief period of fondness had been used to call his +wife "his Scandinavian goddess." She was of the goddess type, tall, +fair-faced and stately, with thick, pale gold hair, and brown lashes +lifted in level lines from steady, deep gray eyes. "Pretty" seemed too +small a word for such a woman, yet "beautiful" conveys a hint of +tenderness; and Mrs. von Arno's face--it might be because of those steady +eyes--was rather a hard face, notwithstanding the soft pink and white of +her skin, and even the dimples that dented her cheek when she smiled. + +Now she was not smiling. The air was heavy with the damp chill of early +spring; and as the countess absently surveyed a gravel-walk bordered by +limp brown grasses and a line of trees dripping last night's frost through +the fog, she saw a woman's figure emerge from the shadows and come slowly +up the walk. She was poorly dressed, and walked to the kitchen-door, where +the countess could see her carefully wipe her feet before rapping. + +"That must be Bailey's wife," she thought: "I saw her waiting for him +yesterday when he came round to the shops for work.--William, my friend, +you are a nuisance." + +With this comment she went to the kitchen. Lettice, the maid-of-all-work, +was frying cakes in solitude. "Mrs. Greymer had taken Mrs. Bailey into the +library," she told the countess with significant inflections. + +The latter went to the library. It was a tiny, red-frescoed room fitted up +in black walnut. There were plants in the bay-window: Mrs. Greymer stood +among them, her soft gray wrapper falling in straight and ample folds +about her slender figure. Her face was turned toward the countess; a +loosened lock of black hair brushed the blue vein on her cheek; she held +some lilies-of-the-valley in her hand, and the gold of her wedding-ring +shone against the dark green leaves. + +"She looks like one of Fra Angelico's saints," thought the countess: "the +crimson lights are good too." + +She stood unnoticed in the doorway, leisurely admiring the picture. Mrs. +Bailey sat in the writing-chair on her right. Once, probably, she had been +a pretty woman, and she still had abundant wavy brown hair and large +dark-blue eyes with curling lashes; but she was too thin and faded and +narrow-chested for any prettiness now. Her calico gown was unstarched, +though scrupulously clean: she wore a thin blue-and-white summer shawl, +and her old straw bonnet was trimmed with a narrow blue ribbon pieced in +two places. Her voice was slightly monotonous, but low-keyed: as she spoke +her hands clasped and unclasped each other. The veins stood out and the +knuckles were enlarged, but they were rather white than otherwise. + +She went on with her story: "The children are so good, Mrs. Greymer; but +six of them, and me not over strong--it makes it hard. We hain't had +anything but corn meal in the house all this week, and the second-hand +woman says our things ain't worth the carting. The children have got so +shabby they hate to go to school, and the boys laugh at Willie 'cause his +hat's his pa's old one and ain't got no brim, though I bound it with the +best of the old braid, for I thought maybe they'd think it was a cap. And +the worst was this morning, when there was nothin' but just mush: we +hadn't even 'lasses, and the children cried. Oh, I didn't go to tell you +all this: you know I ain't a beggar. I've tried to live decent. Oh dear! +oh dear!" She tried to wipe away the tears which were running down her +thin cheeks with the tips of her fingers, but they came too fast. +Mechanically, she put her hand in her pocket, only to take it out empty. + +Mrs. Greymer slipped her own dainty handkerchief, which the countess had +embroidered, into the other's hand. "You ought to have come to me before, +Martha," she said reproachfully--"such an old friend as I am!" + +"'Tain't easy to have them as has known you when you were like folks see +you without even a handkerchief to cry on," said Mrs. Bailey. "If I'd +known where to turn for a loaf of bread, I'd not ha' come now; but I can't +see my children starve. And I ain't come to beg now. All we want is honest +work. William has been everywhere since they sent him away from Dorsey's +just because the men talked about striking, though they didn't strike. +He's been to all the machine-shops, but they won't take him: they say he +has too long a tongue for them, though he's as sober and steady a man as +lives, and there ain't a better workman in M----, or D---- either. William +is willing to do anything: he tried to get work on the streets, but the +street commissioner said he'd more men he'd employed for years asking work +than he knew what to do with. And I thought--I thought, Mrs. Greymer, if +you would only speak to Mrs. von Arno--" + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Bailey," said the countess, advancing. She had a +musical voice, clear and full, with a vibrating quality like the notes of +a violin--a very pleasant voice to hear, yet it hardly seemed reassuring +to the visitor. Unconsciously, she sat up straighter in her chair, her +nervous fingers plaiting the fringe of her shawl. + +"I heard you mention my name," the countess continued: "is there anything +you wish of me?" + +Therese came to Mrs. Bailey's assistance: "Her husband is out of work: +can't you do something with Mr. Seleigman, Helen? Bailey is a good +workman." + +"He is indeed, ma'am," added Bailey's wife eagerly, "and as sober and +faithful to his work: he never slights one bit." + +"I don't doubt it," said the countess gravely; "but, Mrs. Bailey, if we +were to take your husband on, and the union were to order a strike, even +though he were perfectly satisfied with his own wages, wouldn't he strike +himself, and do all he could to make the others strike?" Mrs. Bailey was +silent. + +"A strike might cost us thousands of dollars. Naturally, we don't want to +risk one; so we have no union-men. If Bailey will leave the union he may +go to hammering ploughshares for us to-morrow, and earn, with his skill, +twenty dollars a week." + +Mrs. Bailey's face worked. "'Tain't no use ma'am," she said desperately: +"he won't go back on his principles. He says it's the cause of Labor, and +he'll stick to it till he dies. You can't blame him, ma'am, for doing what +he thinks is right." + +"Perhaps not. But you see that it is impossible for us to employ your +husband. Isn't there something I can do for you yourself, though? Mrs. +Greymer tells me you sew very neatly." + +"Yes, I sew," said Mrs. Bailey in a dull tone, "but I'd be obliged to you, +ma'am, if you'd give me the work soon: I've a machine now, and I'll likely +not have it next week. There's ten dollars due on it, and the agent says +he'll have to take it back. I've paid fifty dollars on it, but this month +and lost times was so hard I couldn't pay." + +The countess put a ten-dollar bill in her hand. "Let me lend you this, +then," she said, unheeding the half shrinking of Mrs. Bailey's face and +attitude; and then she avoided all thanks by answering Lettice's summons +at the door. + +"Poor little woman!" she said to Mrs. Greymer at breakfast--"she didn't +half like to take it. She looked nearly starved too, though she ate so +little breakfast. How did you manage to persuade her to take that huge +bundle?" + +"She is a very brave little woman, Helen. I should like to tell you about +her," said Mrs. Greymer. + +"Until a quarter of eight my time is yours, and my sympathy, as usual, is +boundless." + +Mrs. Greymer smiled slightly. "I have known her for a great many years," +she said, disregarding the countess's last speech: "she went to school +with me, in fact. She was such a pretty girl then! Somehow, she took a +fancy to me, and used to help me with my Practical Arithmetic--" + +"So called because it is written in the most unpractical and +incomprehensible style: yes, I know it," interrupted the countess. + +"Martha was much brighter than I at it, anyhow, and used to do my +examples. She used to bring me the loveliest violets: she would walk all +the way over to the island for them. I remember I cried when her people +moved to Chicago and she left school. I didn't see her for almost ten +years: then I met her accidentally on Randolph street in Chicago. She knew +me, and insisted on my going out with her to see her home. It was in the +suburbs, and was a very pretty, tidy little place, with a garden in front, +where Martha raised vegetables, and a little plot for flowers. She was so +proud of it all and of her two pretty babies, and showed me her chickens +and her furniture and a picture of her husband. They had bought the house, +and were to pay for it in six years, but William was getting high wages, +and she had no fears. Poor Martha!" + +"Their Arcadia didn't last?" + +"No. William got interested in trades-unions: there was a strike, and he +was very prominent. He was out of work a long time, and Martha supported +the family by taking in sewing and selling the vegetables. Then her third +child was born, and she was sick for a long time afterward: she had been +working too hard, poor thing! His old employers took William on with the +rest of the men when the strike ended, but very soon found a pretext for +discharging him; and, in short, they used up all their little savings, and +the house went. William thought he had been ill-used, and became more +violent in his opinions." + +"A Communist, isn't he?" + +"I believe so. Martha with her three children couldn't go out to work, but +she is a model housekeeper, and she opened a little laundry with the money +she got from the sale of some of their furniture. William got work, but +lost it again, but Martha managed in a humble way to support the family +until William had an offer to come here; so they sold out the laundry to +get money to move." + +"Very idiotic of them." + +"After they came here they at first lived on Front street, which is near +the river, and Martha caught the chills and fever. William soon lost his +place, and they moved across the river to D----. He became known as a +speaker, and things have been going from bad to worse; the children have +come fast, and Martha has never really recovered from her fever; and they +have had simply an awfully hard time. I haven't seen Martha for three +months, and have tried in vain to find out where she lived. Poor Martha! +she has never complained, but it has been a hard life for her." + +"Yes, a hard life," repeated the countess, rising and putting on her +jacket; "but it seems to me she has chiefly her own husband to thank for +it. And six children! I have my opinion of Mr. William Bailey." + +"You are hardly just to Bailey, Helen: he has sacrificed his own interests +to his principles. He is as honest--as honest as the Christian martyrs, +though he _is_ an infidel." + +"The Christian martyrs always struck me as a singularly unpractical set of +people," said the countess. + +"Maybe: nevertheless, they founded a religion and changed the world. And, +Helen, you and the people like you laugh at Communism and the complaints +of the laboring classes, but it's like Samson and the Philistines; and +this Samson, blind though he is, will one day, unless we do something +besides laugh, pull the pillars down on his head--and on ours." + +"He will _try_" said the countess: "if we are wise, we shall be ready and +shoot him dead." She kissed Mrs. Greymer smilingly, and went away. Her +friend, watching her from the window, saw her stop to pat a great dog on +the head and give a little boy a nickel piece. + +One Sunday afternoon, two weeks later, the two friends crossed the bridge +to D---- to visit the Baileys. When they reached the end of the bridge +they paused a moment to rest. The day was one of those warm, bright spring +days which deceitfully presage an immediate summer. On the river-shore +crawfishes were lazily creeping over the gravel. The air rang with the +blue jay's chatter, a robin showed his tawny breast among the withered +grasses, and a flicker on a dead stump bobbed his little red-barred head +and fluttered his yellow wings. Beneath the bridge the swift current +sparkled in the sun. Over the river, on each side, rose the hills. The +gray stone of the government works was visible to the right through the +leafless trees: nearer, square, yellow and ugly, stood the old arsenal. A +soldier, musket on shoulder, marched along the river-edge: the cape of his +coat fluttered in the breeze and his slanting bayonet shone like silver. +Before them lay D----, the smoke from its mills and houses curling into +the pale blue air. + +The countess drew a long breath: she had a keen feeling for beauty. "Yes, +it is a lovely place," she said. "The hills are not high enough, but the +river makes amends for everything. But what are those hideous shanties, +Therese?" + +"Are they not hideous?" said Mrs. Greymer. "They are all pine, and it gets +such an ugly dirt-black when it isn't painted. The glass is broken out of +the windows and the shingles have peeled off the roofs. When it rains the +water drips through. In spring, when the river rises, it comes up to their +very doors: one spring it came in. It is not a nice place to live in." + +"Not exactly: still, I suppose people do live there." + +"Yes, the Baileys live there. You see, the rent is low." + +The countess lifted her eyebrows and followed Mrs. Greymer without +answering. Some sulky-looking men were smoking pipes on the doorsteps, and +a few women, whose only Sunday adorning seemed to have been plastering +their hair down over their cheeks with a great deal of water, gossiped at +the corner. Half a dozen children were playing on the river-bank. + +"They fall in every little while," Therese explained, "they are so small, +and most of the mothers here go out washing. This is the Baileys'." + +William Bailey answered the knock. He was a tall man, who carried his +large frame with a kind of muscular ease. He had a square, gray-whiskered +face with firm jaws and mild light-blue eyes. The hair being worn away +from his forehead made it seem higher than it really was. He wore his +working clothes and a pair of very old boots cut down into slippers. The +only stocking he had was in his hand, and he appeared to have been darning +it. Close behind him came his wife, holding the baby. The bright look of +recognition on her face at the sight of Mrs. Greymer faded when she +perceived the countess. Rather stiffly she invited them to enter. + +The room was small and most meanly furnished, but it was clean. The walls +were dingy beyond the power of soap and water to change, but the floor had +been scrubbed, and what glass there was in the windows had been washed. +There were occasional holes in the ceiling and walls where the plaster had +given way: out of one of these peered the pointed nose and gleaming eyes +of a great rat. Judging from sundry noises she heard, the countess +concluded there were many of these animals under the house, though what +they found to live on was a puzzle; but they ate a little of the children +now and then, and perhaps the hope of more sustained them. A pale little +boy was lying on a mattress in the corner covered with a faded +blue-and-white shawl. + +Therese had mysteriously managed to dispose of the basket she had brought +before she went up to him and kissed him, saying, "I am sorry to see +Willie is still sick." + +"Yes," said Bailey, smiling bitterly. "The doctor says he needs dry air +and exercise: it's damp here." + +"Tommy More has promised to lend us his cart, and Susie will take him on +the island," Mrs. Bailey said hastily; "it's real country there." + +"But you have to have a pass," answered Bailey in a low tone. + +"Any one can get a pass," said the countess; "but if you prefer I will ask +the colonel to-day, and he will send you one to-morrow." + +For the first time Bailey fairly looked the countess in the face: his +brows contracted, he opened his lips to speak. + +"Oh, papa," cried the boy in a weak voice trembling with eagerness, "the +island is _splendid_! Tommy's father works there, and they's cannon and a +foundry and a _live eagle_!" + +"Yes, Willie dear," said his father as he laid his brown hand gently on +the boy's curls. He inclined his head toward the countess. "I'll thank +you," he said gravely. + +The countess picked up a pamphlet from the table, more to break the +uncomfortable pause which followed than for any other reason. "Do you like +this?" she said, hardly reading the title. + +"I believe it," said Bailey: "I am a Communist myself." He drew himself up +to his full height as he spoke: there was a certain suppressed defiance in +his attitude and expression. + +"Are you?" said the countess. "Why?" + +"Why?" cried Bailey. "Look at me! I'm a strong man, and willing to do any +kind of work. I've worked hard for sixteen year: I've been sober and +steady and saving. Look what all that work and saving has brought me! This +is a nice place for a decent man and his family to live in, ain't it? +Them walls ain't clean? No, because scrubbing can't make 'em. The grime's +in the plaster: yes, and worse than grime--vermin and disease sech as +'tain't right for me to mention even to ladies like you, but it's right +enough for sech as us to live in. Yes, by G---! to _die_ in!" He was a man +who spoke habitually in a low voice, and it had not grown louder, but the +veins on his forehead swelled and his eyes began to glow. + +"It is hard, truly," said the countess. "Whose fault is it?" + +"Whose fault?" Bailey repeated her words vehemently, yet with something of +bewilderment. "Society's fault, which grinds a poor man to powder, so as +to make a rich man richer. But the people won't stand this sort of thing +for ever." + +"You would have a general division of property, then?" + +"Indirectly, yes. Power must be taken from bloated corporations and given +to the people; the railroads must be taken by government; accumulation of +capital over a limited amount must be forbidden; men must work for +Humanity, and not for their selfish interests." + +"Do you know any men who are working so?" + +"I know a few." + +"Mostly workingmen?" + +"All workingmen." + +"Don't you think a general division of property would be for _their_ +selfish interests?" + +"I don't call it selfish to ask for just a decent living." + +"I fancy the chiefs of your party would demand a great deal more than a +bare decent living. Mr. Bailey, the rights of property rest on just this +fact in human nature: A man will work better for himself than he will for +somebody else. And you can't get him to work unless he is guaranteed the +fruits of his labor. Capital is brain, and Labor is muscle, but the brain +has as much to do with the creation of wealth as muscle: more, for it can +invent machines and do without muscle, while muscle cannot do without +brain. You can't alter human nature, Mr. Bailey. If you had a Commune, +every man would be for himself there as he is here: the weak would have +less protection than even now, for all the restraints of morality, which +are bound up inseparably with rights of property, would have been thrown +aside. Marx and Lasallis and Bradlaugh, clever as they are, can't prevent +the survival of the fittest. You knock your head against a stone wall, Mr. +Bailey, when you fight society. You have been knocking it all your life, +and now you are angry because your head is hurt. If you had never tried to +strip other men of their earnings because you fancied you ought to have +more, as skilful a blacksmith as you would have saved money and been a +capitalist himself. Supposing you give it up? Our firm will give you a +chance to make ploughshares and earn twenty dollars a week if you will +only promise not to strike us in return the first chance you get." + +The workingman had listened with a curling lip. "Do you mean that for an +offer?" he said in a smothered voice. + +"I mean it for an offer, certainly." + +"Oh, William!" cried his wife, turning appealing eyes up to his face. + +He grew suddenly white, and brought his clenched hand heavily down on the +table. The dishes rattled with the jar, and the baby, scared at the noise, +began to scream. "Then," said Bailey, "you may just understand that a man +ain't always a sneak if he _is_ poor; and you can be glad you ain't a man +that's tempting me to turn traitor." + +"I am sure my friend didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Mrs. Greymer +explained quickly, giving the countess that expressive side-glance which +much more plainly than words says, "Now you _have_ done it!" Mrs. Bailey +was walking up and down soothing the baby: the little boy looked on +open-eyed. + +"I am sorry if I have said anything which has seemed like an insult," said +the countess: "I certainly didn't intend one. Perhaps after you have +thought it all over you will feel differently. You know where to find me. +Good-evening." + +She held out her hand, which Bailey did not seem to see, smiled on the +little boy and went out, leaving Mrs. Greymer behind. + +A little girl with pretty brown curls and deep-blue eyes was making +sand-caves on the shore. The countess spoke to her in passing, and left +her staring at her two hands, which were full of silver coin. At the +bridge the countess paused to wait for her friend. She saw her come out, +attended by Mrs. Bailey: she saw Mrs. Bailey watch her, saw the little +girl give her mother the money, and then she saw the woman, still carrying +her baby in her arms, walk slowly down the river-bank to where a boat lay +keel uppermost like a great black arrowhead on the sand. Here she sat +down, and, clasping the child closer, hid her face in its white hair. + +"And, upon my soul, I believe she is crying," said the spectator, who +stopped at the commandant's house and obtained the pass before she went +home. + +On Monday, Mrs. Greymer proposed asking little Willie Bailey to spend a +week with them. The countess assented, merely saying, "You must take the +little skeleton to drive every day, and send the livery-bills to me." + +"Then I shall drive over this afternoon if Freddy's sore throat is +better," said Mrs. Greymer. + +But she did not go: Freddy's sore throat was worse instead of better, and +his sister had enough to do for some days fighting off diphtheria. So it +happened that it was a week before she was able to go to D----. She found +the Baileys' door swinging on its hinges, and a high-stepping hen of +inquisitive disposition investigating the front room: the Baileys had +gone. + +"They went to Chicago four days ago," an amiable neighbor explained: "they +didn't say what fur. The little boy he cried 'cause he wanted to go on the +island fust. Guess _he_ ain't like to live long: he's a weak, pinin' +little chap." + +Only once did Therese hear from Mrs. Bailey. The letter came a few days +after her useless drive to D----. It was dated Chicago, and expressed +simply but fervently her gratitude for all Mrs. Greymer's kindness. +Enclosed were three one-dollar bills, part payment, the writer said, "of +my debt to Mrs. von Arno, and I hope she won't think I meant to run away +from it because I can't just now send more." There was no allusion to her +present condition or her prospects for the future. Mrs. Greymer read the +letter aloud, then held out the bills to the countess. + +She pushed them aside as if they stung her. "What does the woman think I +am made of?" she exclaimed. "Why, it's hideous, Therese! Write and tell +her I never meant her to pay me." + +"I am afraid the letter won't reach her," said Mrs. Greymer. + +Nor did it: in due course of time Therese received her own letter back +from the Dead-Letter Office. The words of interest and sympathy, the plans +and encouragement, sounded very oddly to her then, for, as far as they +were concerned, Martha Bailey's history was ended. It was in July the +countess had met them again. She was in Chicago. Otto was dead. He had +given back to his wife by his will the property which had come to him +through her: whether because of a late sense of justice or a dislike to +his heir, a distant cousin who wrote theological works and ate with his +knife, the countess never ventured to decide. The condition of part of +this property, which was in Chicago, had obliged her to go there. She +arrived on the evening of the fifteenth of July--a day Chicago people +remember because the great railroad strike of 1877 reached the city that +day. + +The countess found the air full of wild rumors. Stories of shops closed by +armed men, of vast gatherings of Communists on the North Side, of robbery, +bloodshed and--to a Chicago ear most blood-curdling whisper of all--of a +contemplated second burning of the city, flew like prairie-fire through +the streets. + +The countess's lawyer, whom she had visited very early on Thursday +morning, insisted on accompanying her from his office to her friend's +house on the North Side. On Halstead street their carriage suddenly +stopped. Putting her head out of the window, the countess perceived that +the coachman had drawn up close to the curbstone to avoid the onset of a +yelling mob of boys and men armed with every description of weapon, from +laths and brickbats to old muskets. The boys appeared to regard the whole +affair as merely a gigantic "spree," and shouted "Bread or Blood!" with +the heartiest enthusiasm; but the men marched closer, in silence and with +set faces. The gleaming black eyes, sharp features and tangled black hair +of half of them showed their Polish or Bohemian blood. The others were +Norwegians and Germans, with a sprinkling of Irish and Americans. Their +leader was a tall man whom the countess knew. He had turned to give an +order when she saw him. At that same instant a shabby woman ran swiftly +from a side street and tried to throw her arms about the man's neck. He +pushed her aside, and the crowd swept them both out of sight. + +"I think I have seen a woman I know," said the countess composedly; "and +do you know, Mr. Wilder, that our horses have gone? Our Communist friends +prefer riding to walking, it seems." They were obliged to get out of the +carriage. The countess looked up and down the street, but saw no trace of +the woman. Apparently, she had followed the mob. + +By this time some small boys, inspired by the occasion, had begun to show +their sympathy with oppressed labor by pelting the two well-dressed +strangers with potatoes and radishes, which they confiscated from a +bloated capitalist of a grocer on the corner. The shower was so thick that +Mr. Wilder was relieved when they reached the Halstead street +police-station, where they sought refuge. Here they passed a sufficiently +exciting hour. They could hear plainly the sharp crack of revolvers and +the yells and shouts of the angry mob blending in one indistinguishable +roar. Once a barefooted boy ran by, screaming that the police were driven +back and the Communists were coming. Then a troop of cavalry rode up the +street on a sharp trot, their bridles jingling and horses' hoofs +clattering. The roar grew louder, ebbed, swelled again, then broke into a +multitude of sounds--screams, shouts and the tumultuous rush of many feet. + +A polite sergeant opened the door of the little room where the countess +was sitting to inform her the riot was over. They were just bringing in +some prisoners: he was very sorry, but one of them would have to come in +there. He was a prominent rioter whom they had captured trying to bring +off the body of his wife, who had been killed by a chance shot. It would +be only for a short time: the gentleman had gone for a carriage. He hoped +the lady wouldn't mind. + +The lady, who had changed color slightly, said she should not mind. The +sergeant held the door back, and some men brought in something over which +had been flung an old blue-and-white shawl. They carried it on a shutter, +and the folds of a calico dress, torn and trampled, hung down over the +side. + +Then came two policemen, pushing after the official manner a man covered +with dust and blood. + +"Bailey!" exclaimed the countess. Their eyes met. + +Bailey bent his head toward the table where the men had laid their burden. +"Lift that," he said hoarsely. + +The countess lifted the shawl with a steady hand. There was an old white +straw bonnet flattened down over the forehead; a wisp of blue ribbon +string was blown across the face and over the red smear between the +eyebrow and the hair; the eyes stared wide and glassy. But it was the same +soft brown hair. The countess knew Martha Bailey. + +"There was women and children on the sidewalk, but they fired right into +us," said Bailey. He spoke in a monotonous, dragging voice, as though +every word were an effort. "They killed her. I asked you to give me work +in your shop, and you wouldn't do it. Here's the end of it. Now you can go +home and say your prayers." + +"I don't say prayers," answered the countess, "and you know I offered you +work. But don't let us reproach each other here. Where are your children?" + +"Ain't you satisfied with what you have done already?" said Bailey. "Leave +me alone: you'd better." + +"Gently now!" said one of the policemen. + +"Whatever you may think of me," said the countess quietly, "you know Mrs. +Greymer was always your wife's friend. We only wanted to help her." + +Bailey shook off the grasp of the policemen as though it had been a +feather: with one great stride he reached the countess and caught her +roughly by the wrist. "Look at _her_, will you?" he cried: "you and the +likes of you, with your smooth cant, have killed her! You crush us and +starve us till we turn, and then you shoot us down like dogs. Leave my +children alone." + +"None of that, my man!" said the sergeant. + +The two policemen would have pulled Bailey away, but the countess stopped +them. She had turned pale even to her lips, but she did not wince. + +"Curse you!" groaned the Communist, flinging his arms above his head; +"curse a society which lets such things be! curse a religion--" + +The policemen dragged him back. "You'd better go, I think, ma'am," said +the sergeant: "the man's half crazy with the sun and fighting and grief." + +"You are right," said the countess. She stopped at the station-door to put +a bill in the policeman's hands: "You will find out about the children and +let me know, please." + +Mr. Wilder, who had been standing in the doorway, an amazed witness of the +whole scene, led her out to the carriage. "He's a bad fellow, that +rioter," he said as they drove along. + +The countess pulled her cuff over a black mark on her wrist. "No, he is +not half a bad fellow," she answered, "but for all that he has murdered +his wife." + +Nor has she ever changed her opinion on that point; neither, so far as is +known, has William Bailey changed his. + +OCTAVE THANET. + + + + +AT FRIENDS' MEETING. + + + Sunshine and shadow o'er unsculptured walls + Hang tremulous curtains, radiant and fair; + The breath of summer perfumes all the air; + Afar the wood-bird trills its tender calls. + More eloquent than chanted rituals, + Subtler than odors swinging censers bear, + Purer than hymn of praise or passionate prayer, + The silence, like a benediction, falls. + The still, slow moments softly slip along + The endless thread of thought: a holy throng + Of memories, long prisoned, find release. + The sacred sweetness of the hour has lent + These quiet faces, calm with deep content, + And one world-weary soul alike, the light of peace. + +SUSAN M. SPALDING. + + + + +LETTERS FROM MAURITIUS.--I. + +BY LADY BARKER. + + +EASTER SUNDAY, April 21, 1878. + +"How's her head, Seccuni?"--"Nor'-nor'-east, quarter east, saar." Such had +been the question often asked, at my impatient prompting, of the placid +Lascar quartermaster during the past fortnight. And the answer generally +elicited a sigh from the good-natured captain of the Actæa, a sigh which I +reproduced with a good deal of added woe in its intonation and a slight +dash of feminine impatience. For this easterly bearing was all wrong for +us. "Anything from the south would do," but not a puff seemed inclined to +come our way from the south. Seventeen days ago we scraped over the bar at +the mouth of D'Urban harbor, spread our sails, and fled away before a fair +wind toward the north end of Madagascar, meaning to leave it on the +starboard bow and so fetch "L'Ile Maurice, ancienne Ile de France," as it +is still fondly styled. The fair wind had freshened to a gale a day or two +later, and bowled us along before it, and we had made a rapid and +prosperous voyage so far. Sunny days and cold, clear, starry nights had +come and gone amid the intense and wonderful loveliness of these strange +seas. Not a sail had we passed, not a gull had been seen, scarcely a +porpoise. But now this radiant Easter Sunday morning finds us almost +becalmed on the eastern side of Mauritius, with what air is stirring dead +ahead, but only coming in a cat's-paw now and then. Except for one's +natural impatience to drop anchor it would have been no penance to loiter +on such a day, and so make it a memory which would stand out for ever in +bold relief amid the monotony of life. "A study of color" indeed--a study +in wonderful harmonies of vivid blues and opalesque pinks, amethysts and +greens, indigoes and lakes, all the gem-like tints breaking up into +sparkling fragments every moment, to reset themselves the next instant in +a new and exquisite combination. The tiny island at once impresses me with +a respectful admiration. What nonsense is this the geography-books state, +and I have repeated, about Mauritius being the same size as the Isle of +Wight? Absurd! Here is a bold range of volcanic-looking mountains rising +up grand and clear against the beautiful background of a summer sky, on +whose slopes and in whose valleys, green down to the water's edge, lie +fertile stretches of cultivation. We are not near enough to see whether +the pale shimmer of the young vegetation is due to grass or waving +cane-tops. Bold ravines are cut sharply down the mountainous sides and +lighted up by the silvery glint of rushing water, and the breakers, for +all the mirror-like calm of the sea out here, a couple of miles from +shore, are beating the barrier rocks and dashing their snow aloft with a +dull thud which strikes on the ear in mesmeric rhythm. Yes, it is quite +the fairest scene one need wish to rest wave-worn and eager eyes upon, and +it is still more beautiful if you look over the vessel's side. The sea is +of a Mediterranean blue, and is literally alive with fish beneath, and +lovely sea-creatures floating upon, the sunlit water. It appears as if one +could see down to unknown depths through that clear sapphire medium, +breaking up here and there into pale blue reflections which are even more +enchanting than its intense tints. Fishes, apparently of gold and +rose-color or of a radiant blue barred and banded with silver, dart, +plunge and chase each other after the fragments of biscuit we throw +overboard. Films of crystal and ruby oar themselves gently along the upper +surface or float like folded sea-flowers on the motionless water. A flock +of tiny sea-mews, half the size of the fish, are screaming shrilly and +darting down on the shoal; but as for their catching them, the idea is +preposterous, for the fish are twice as big as the birds. + +Still, we want to get on: we sadly want to beat another barque which +started a couple of hours after us from Natal, and we are barely drifting +a knot an hour. It is not in the least too hot. D'Urban was very sultry +when we left, but I have been shivering ever since in my holland gown, +thinking fondly and regretfully of serge skirts and a sealskin jacket down +in the hold. It may be safely taken as an axiom in travelling that you +seldom suffer from cold more than in what are supposed to be hot climates, +and the wary _voyageuse_ will never separate herself hopelessly from her +winter wraps, even when steering to tropical lands. In spite of all my +experience, I am often taken in on this point, and I should have perished +from cold during this voyage as we got farther south if it had not been +for the friendly presence of a rough Scotch plaid. Even the days were cold +on deck out of the sun, and the long nights--for darkness treads close on +the heels of sunset in the winter months of these latitudes--would have +indeed been nipping without warm wraps. + +But no one thinks of wraps this balmy Easter Sunday. It is delicious as to +temperature, only we are in an ungrateful hurry, and the stars find us +scarcely a dozen miles from where they left us. I sit up to see myself +safe through the narrow passage between Flat Island and Round Island, and +fall asleep at last to the monotonous chant of so many "fathoms and no +bottom," for we take soundings every five minutes or so in this reefy +region. An apology for wind gets up at last, which takes us round the +north end of the island, and we creep up to the outer anchorage of Port +Louis, on its western shore, slowly but safely in that darkest hour before +dawn. + +Bad news travels fast, they say, and some one actually took the trouble of +getting out of his bed and rowing out to us as soon as our anchor was down +to tell us, with apparently great satisfaction, that we had lost our race, +and that we should have to go into quarantine with the earliest dawn. +Having awakened all the sleepers with this soothing intelligence, and +called up a host of bitter feelings of rage and disappointment in the +heart of every one on board, this friendly voice bade us good-night, and +the owner rowed away into the gloom around, apparently at peace with +himself and all the world. + +How can I set forth the indignation we all felt to be put in quarantine +because of a little insignificant epidemic of fever at D'Urban, in coming +to a place noted as a hotbed of every variety of fever? If it was measles, +or even chicken-pox, we declared we could have understood it. But _fever_! +This sentiment was found very comforting, and it was a great +disappointment to find how little convincing it appeared to the +authorities. However, the anticipation proved to have been much worse than +the reality, for as we were all perfectly well, and had been so ever since +leaving D'Urban, the quarantine laws became delightfully elastic, and in a +couple of days or so the yellow flag was hauled down, and a more gay and +cheerful bit of bunting proclaimed to our friends on shore that we were no +longer objects of fear and aversion. + +In two minutes F---- is on board, and in two minutes more I am in a boat +alongside, being swiftly rowed to the flat shore of Port Louis through a +crowd of shipping, for the fine harbor of the little island seems to +attract to itself an enormous number of vessels. From Calcutta and China, +Ceylon and Madras, Pondicherry, London, Marseilles, the Cape, Callao and +Bordeaux, and from many a port besides, vessels of all varieties of rig +and tonnage come hither. + +In the daytime, as I now see it for the first time, Port Louis is indeed a +crowded and busy place, and its low-pitched warehouses and +unpretending-looking buildings hold many and many thousand tons of +miscellaneous merchandise coming in or going out. But at sunset an exodus +of all the white and most of the creole inhabitants sets in, leaving the +dusty streets and dingy buildings to watchmen and coolies and dogs. It is +quite curious to notice, as I do directly, what a horror the English +residents have of sleeping even one single night in Port Louis; and this +dread certainly appears to be well founded if even half the stories one +hears be true. Some half dozen officials, whose duties oblige them to be +always close to the harbor, contrive, however, to live in the town, but +they nearly all give a melancholy report of the constant attacks of fever +they or their families suffer from. + +Certainly, at the first glance, Port Louis is not a prepossessing place to +live, or try to live, in. I will say nothing of the shabby shops, the +dilapidated-looking dwellings, one passes in a rapid drive through the +streets, because I know how deceitful outside appearances are as to the +internal resources or comforts of a tropical town. Those dingy shops may +hold excellent though miscellaneous goods in their dark recesses, and +would be absolutely unbearable to either owner or customer if they were +lighted with staring plate-glass windows. Nor would it be possible to +array tempting articles in gallant order behind so hot and glaring a +screen, for no shade or canvas would prevent everything from bleaching +white in a few hours. As for the peeled walls of house and garden, no +stucco or paint can stand many weeks of tropical sun and showers. +Everything gets to look blistered or washed out directly after it has been +renovated, and great allowances must be made for these shortcomings so +patent to the eye of a fresh visitor. What I most regretted in Port Louis +was its low-lying, fever-haunted situation. It looks marked out as a +hotbed of disease, and the wonder to me is, not that it should now and for +ten years past have the character of being a nest for breeding fevers, but +that there ever should have been a time when illness was not rife in such +a locality. Sheltered from anything like a free circulation of air by +hills rising abruptly from the seashore, swampy by nature, crowded to +excess by thousands of emigrants from all parts of the coast added to its +own swarming population, it seems little short of marvellous that even by +day Europeans can contrive to exist there long enough to carry on the +enormous trade which comes and goes to and from its harbor. Yet they do +so, and on the whole manage very well by avoiding exposure to the sun and +taking care to sleep out of the town. This is rendered possible to all by +an admirable system of railways, which are under government control, and +will gradually form a perfect network over the island. The engineering +difficulties of these lines must have been great, and it is an appalling +sight to witness a train in motion. So hilly is the little island that if +the engine is approaching the chances are it looks as if it were about to +plunge wildly down on its head and turn a somersault into the station, or +else it seems to be gradually climbing up a steep gradient after the +fashion of a fly on the wall. But everything appears well managed, and the +dulness of the daily press is never enlivened by accounts of a railway +accident. + +For two or three miles out of Port Louis the country is still flat and +marshy, and ugly to the last degree--not the ugliness of bareness and trim +neatness, but overgrown, dank and mournful, for all its teeming life. By +the roadside stand, here and there, what once were handsome and hospitable +mansions, but are now abodes of desolation and decay. The same sad story +may be told of each--how their owners, well-born descendants of old French +families, flourished there, amid their beautiful flowers, in health and +happiness for many a long day until the fatal "fever year" of 1867, when +half the families were carried off by swift death, and the survivors +wellnigh ruined by hurricanes and disasters of all sorts. Poor little +Mauritius has certainly passed through some very hard times, but she has +borne them bravely and pluckily, and is now reaping her reward in +returning prosperity. Sharp as has been the lesson, it is something for +her inhabitants to have learned to enforce better sanitary laws, and there +is little fear now but that their eyes have been opened to the importance +of health regulations. + +One effect of the epidemic which desolated Port Louis has been the +creation of the prettiest imaginable suburbs or settlements within eight +or ten miles of the town. These districts have the quaintest French +names--Beau Bassin, Curépipe, Pamplemousse, Flacq, Moka, and so forth, +with the English name of "Racehill" standing out among them in cockney +simplicity. My particular suburb is the nearest and most convenient from +which F---- can compass his daily official duties, but I am not entitled +to boast of an elevation of more than eight hundred feet. Still, there is +an extraordinary difference in the temperature before we have climbed to +even half that height, and we turn out of a green lane bordered by thick +hedges of something exactly like English hawthorn into a wind-swept +clearing on the borders of a deep ravine where stands a bungalow-looking +dwelling rejoicing in the name of "The Oaks." It might much more +appropriately have been called "The Palms," for I can't see an oak +anywhere, whilst there are some lovely graceful trees with rustling giant +leaves on the lawn; but I cannot look beyond the wide veranda, where Zulu +Jack is waiting to welcome me with the old musical cry of "Jakasu-casa!" +and my little five-o'clock tea-table arranged, just as I used to have it +in Natal, on the shady side of the house. Yes, it is home at last, and +very homelike and comfortable it all looks after the tossing, changing +voyaging of the past two months, for I have come a long way round. + + +BEAU BASSIN, May 21st. + +I feel as if I had lived here all my life, although it is really more +unlike the ordinary English colony than it is possible to imagine; and yet +(as the walrus said to the carpenter) this "is scarcely odd," because it +is not an English colony at all. It is thoroughly and entirely French, and +the very small part of the habits of the people which is not French is +Indian. The result of more than a century of civilization, and of the +teachings of many colonists, not counting the Portuguese discoverers early +in the sixteenth century, is a mixed but very comfortable code of manners +and customs. One has not here to struggle against the ignorance and +incapacity of native servants. The clever, quick Indian has learned the +polish and elegance of his French masters, and the first thing which +struck me was the pretty manners of the native--or, as they are called, +creole--inhabitants. Everybody has a "Bon soir!" or a "Salaam!" for us as +we pass them in our twilight walks, and the manners of the domestic +servants are full of attention and courtesy. Mauritius first belonged to +the Dutch (for the Portuguese did not attempt to colonize it), who seem to +have been bullied out of it by pirates and hurricanes, and who finally +gave it up as a thankless task about the year 1700. A few years later the +French, having a thriving colony next door at Bourbon, sent over a +man-of-war and "annexed," unopposed, the pretty little island. But there +were all sorts of difficulties to overcome in those early days, and it was +not even found possible--from mismanagement of course--to make the place +pay its own working expenses. Then came the war with England at the +beginning of this century; and that made things worse, for of course we +tried to get hold of it, and there were many sharp sea-fights off its +lovely shores, until, after a gallant defence, a landing was effected by +the English, who took possession of it somewhere about 1811. Still, it +does not seem to have been of much use to them, for the French inhabitants +naturally made difficulties and declined to take the oath of allegiance; +so that it was not until the great settling-day--or rather year--of 1814, +when Louis XVIII. "came to his own again" and definitively ceded Mauritius +to the British, that we began to set to work, aided by the inhabitants +with right good-will, to develop and make the most of its enormous natural +resources. + +I really believe Mauritius stands alone in the whole world for variety of +scenery, of climate and of productions within the smallest imaginable +space. It might be a continent looked at through reversed opera-glasses +for the ambitious scale of its mountains, its ravines and its waterfalls. +When once you leave the plains behind--it is all on such a toy scale that +you do this in half an hour--you breathe mountain-air and look down deep +gorges and cross wide, rushing rivers. Of course the sea is part of every +view. If it is lost sight of for five minutes, there is nothing to do but +go on a few yards and turn a corner to see it again, stretching wide and +blue and beautiful out to the horizon. As for the length and breadth of +the island representing its area, the idea is wildly wrong. The acreage is +enormous in proportion to this same illusory length and breadth, which +very soon fades out of the newcomer's mind. One confusing effect of the +hilly nature of the ground is that one dwarfs the relative length of +distances, and gets to talk of five miles as a long way off. At first I +used to say--rather impertinently, I confess--"Surely nothing can be very +far away here!" but I have learned better already in this short month, and +recognize that even three miles constitute something of a drive. And the +chances are--nay, the certainty is--that three miles in any direction will +show you a greater variety of beautiful scenery than the same distance +over any other part of the habitable globe. The only expression I can find +to describe Mauritius to myself is one I used to hear my grandmother use +in speaking of a pretty girl who chanced to be rather _petite_. "She is a +pocket Venus," the old lady would say; and so I find myself calling L'Ile +Maurice a pocket Venus among islets. + +This is the beginning of the cool season, which lasts till November; and +really the climate just now is very delightful. A little too windy, +perhaps, for my individual taste, but that is owing to the rather exposed +situation of my house. The trade winds sweep in from the south-east, and +very nearly blow me and my possessions out of the drawing-room. Still, it +would be the height of ingratitude to quarrel with such a healthy, +refreshing gale, and I try to avoid the remorse which I am assured will +overtake me in the hot season if I grumble now. Of course it is hot in the +sun, but ladies need seldom or never expose themselves to it. The +gentlemen are armed, when they go out, with white umbrellas, and keep as +much as possible out of the fierce heat. At night it is quite cold, and +one or even two blankets are indispensable; yet this is by no means one of +the coolest situations in the island, though it bears an excellent +character for healthiness. Of course I can only tell you this time of what +lies immediately around me, for I have hardly strayed five miles from my +own door since I arrived. There is always so much to do in settling one's +self in a new home. This time, I am bound to say, the difficulties have +been reduced to a minimum, not only from the prompt kindness and +helpfulness of my charming neighbors, but because I found excellent +servants ready to my hand, instead of needing to go through the laborious +process of training them. The cooks are very good--better indeed than the +food material, which is not always of the best quality. The beef is +imported from Madagascar, and is thin and queerly butchered, but presents +itself at table in a sufficiently attractive form: so do the long-legged +fowls of the island. But the object of distrust is always the mutton, +which is more often goat, and consequently tough and rank: when it is only +kid one can manage it, but the older animal is beyond me. Vegetables and +fruit are abundant and delicious, and I have tasted very nice fish, though +they do not seem plentiful. Nor is the actual cost of living great for +what is technically called "bazaar"--_i.e.,_ home-grown--articles of daily +food. Indeed, such things are cheap, and a few rupees go a long way in +"bazaar." The moment you come to _articles de luxe_ from England or +France, then, indeed, you must reckon in dollars, or even piastres, for it +sounds too overwhelming in rupees. Wine is the exception which proves the +rule in this case, and every one drinks an excellent, wholesome light +claret which is absurdly and delightfully cheap, and which comes straight +from Bordeaux. Ribbons, clothes, boots and gloves, all things of that +sort, are also expensive, but not unreasonably so when the enormous cost +of carriage is taken into account. Everything comes by the only direct +line of communication with England, in the "Messageries Maritimes," which +is a swift but costly mode of transmission. Still, all actual necessaries +are cheap and plentiful in spite of the teeming population one sees +everywhere. + +In our daily evening walk we cut off a corner through the bazaar, and it +is most amusing to see and hear the representatives of all the countries +of the East laughing, jangling and chatting in their own tongues, and +apparently all at once. Besides Indians from each presidency, there are +crowds of Chinese, Cingalese, Malabars, Malagask, superadded to the creole +population. They seem orderly enough, though perhaps the police reports +could tell a different tale. If only the daylight would last longer in +these latitudes, where exercise is only possible after sundown! However +early we set forth, the end of the walk is sure to be accomplished +stumblingly in profound darkness. Happily, there are no snakes or +poisonous reptiles of any sort, nor have I yet seen anything more +personally objectionable than a mosquito. I rather owe a grudge, though, +to a little insect called the mason-fly, which has a perfect passion for +running up mud huts (compared to its larger edifices on the walls and +ceiling) on my blotting-books and between the leaves of my pet volumes. +The white ants are the worst insect foe we have, and the stories I hear of +their performances would do credit to the Arabian Nights. I have already +learned to consider as pets the little soft brown lizards which emerge +from behind the picture-frames at night as soon as ever the lamps are lit. +They come out to catch the flies on the ceiling, and stalk their prey in +the cleverest and stealthiest fashion. Occasionally, however, they quarrel +with each other, and have terrific combats over head, with the invariable +result of a wriggling inch of tail dropping down on one's book or paper. +This cool weather is of course the time when one is freest from insect +visitors, and I have not yet seen any butterflies. A stray grasshopper, +with green wings folded exactly like a large leaf, or an inquisitive +mantis, blunders on to my writing-table occasionally, but not often enough +to be anything but welcome. As my sitting-room may be said, speaking +architecturally, to consist merely of a floor and ceiling, there is no +reason why all the insects in the island should not come in at any one of +its seven open doors (I have no windows) if they choose. + +The houses are very pretty, however, in spite of their being all doorway. +The polished floors--unhappily, mine are painted _red_, which is a great +sorrow to me--the large rooms, with nice furniture and a wealth of +flowers, give a look of great comfort and elegance to the interior. The +wide, low verandas are shaded on the sunny side by screens or blinds of +ratan painted green, and from the ceiling dangle baskets, large baskets, +filled with every imaginable variety of fern. I never saw anything like +the beauty of the foliage. The _leaves_ of the plants would give color and +variety enough without the flowers, and they too are in profusion. Every +house stands in its own grounds, and I think I may say that every house +has a beautiful shrubbery and garden attached to it. Of course, with all +this warm rain constantly falling, the pruning-knife is as much needed as +the spade, but the natives make excellent and clever gardeners, and every +place is well and neatly kept. Mine is the only overgrown and yet empty +garden I have seen, but, all the same, I have more flowers in my +drawing-room than any one else, for all my neighbors take compassion on me +and send me baskets full of the loveliest roses every morning. Then it is +only necessary to send old Bonhomme, the gardener, a little way down the +steep side of the ravine to pick as much maiden-hair or other delicate +ferns as would stock the market at Covent Garden for a week. + +If it were not for everybody being in such a terror about their health, +this lonely little island would be a very charming place. But ever since +_the_ fever a feeling of sanitary distrust seems to have sprung up among +the inhabitants, which strikes a newcomer very vividly. The European +inhabitants _look_ very well, and the ladies and children are far more +blooming--though I acknowledge it is a delicate bloom--than any one I saw +in Natal. Still, you can detect that the question of health is uppermost +in the public mind. If a house is spoken of, its only recommendation need +be that it is healthy. There is very little society at night, because +night air is considered dangerous: even the chief attraction of +lawn-tennis, the universal game here, is that "it is so healthy." And to +see the way the gentlemen wrap up after it in coats which seem to have +been made for arctic wear! Of course they are quite right to be careful, +and it is a comfort to know that with proper care and the precautions +taught by experience there is no reason why, under the blessing of God, a +European should not enjoy as good health in Mauritius as in other places +with a better reputation. There are nearly always cases of fever in Port +Louis, and three or four deaths a day from it; but then the native white +and creole population is very large, and the proportion is not so +alarming. + +One of the things which I think are not generally understood is, how +completely the whole place is French. It is not in the least like any +colony which I have ever seen. It is a comfortable settlement, where +families have intermarried and taken root in the soil, regarding it with +quite as fond and fervent an affection as we bear to our own country. +Instead of the apologies for, and abuse of, a colony (woe to you if _you_ +find fault, however!) with which your old colonist greets a new arrival, I +find here a strong patriotic sentiment of pride and love, which is +certainly well merited. When you take into consideration the tiny +dimensions of the island, its distance from all the centres of +civilization, its isolation, the great calamities which have befallen it +from hurricane, drought and pestilence, and the way it has overlived them +all, there is every justification for the pride and glory of its +inhabitants in their fair and fertile islet. Never were such good roads: I +don't know how they are managed or who keeps them in order, except that I +believe everything in the whole place is done by government. Certainly, +government ought to be patted on the back if those neat, wide, well-kept +roads are its handiwork. But, as I was saying, it is a surprise to most +English comers to find how thoroughly French the whole place is, and you +perceive the change first and chiefly in the graceful and courteous +manners of the people of all grades and classes. Instead of the delightful +British stare and avoidance of strangers, every one, from the highest +official to the poorest peasant, has a word or bow of greeting for the +passer-by; and especially is this genial civility to be admired and +noticed at the railway-stations and in the carriages. You never hear +English spoken except among a few officials, and a knowledge of French is +the first necessity of life here. Unhappily, there is a patois in use +among the creoles and other natives which is very confusing. It is made up +of a strange jumble of Eastern languages, grafted on a debased kind of +French, and gabbled with the rapidity of lightning and a great deal of +gesticulation. At a ball you hear far more French than English spoken, and +at a concert I attended lately not a single song was in English. Even in +the Protestant churches there is a special service held in French every +Sunday, as well as another in Tamil, besides the English services; so a +clergyman in Mauritius needs to be a good linguist. The polished floors, +well _frotté_ every morning, and the rather set-out style of the rooms, +all make a house look French. The business of the law-courts and the +newspapers are also in French, with only here and there a column of +English. The notifications of distances, the weights and measures, the +"avis aux voyageurs," the finger-posts, wayside bills, signs on +shop-fronts, are all in French. When by any chance the owner of a shop +breaks out into an English notification of his wares--and it is generally +a Chinaman or Parsee who is fired by this noble ambition--the result is as +difficult to decipher as if it were a cuneiform inscription. + +The greatest difference, as it is the one which most affects my individual +comfort, which I have yet found out between Mauritius and an ordinary +English colony is the poverty of the book-shops. Your true creole is not a +reading character, though, on the other hand, he has a great and natural +taste for music. I miss the one or even two excellent book shops where one +could get, at quite reasonable prices too, most of the new and readable +books which I have always found in the chief town of every English colony. +At Cape Town, Christchurch, New Zealand, Maritzburg, D'Urban, there are +far better booksellers than in most English country towns. Here it appears +to me as if the love of literature were confined to the few English +officials, who devour each other's half dozen volumes with an appetite +which speaks terribly of a state of chronic mental famine. I keep hoping +that I shall always be as busy as I am now, and so have very little time +for reading, for if it is ever otherwise I too shall experience the +universal starvation. + + +BEAU BASSIN, June 20th. + +It has never been my lot hitherto, even in all my various wanderings, to +stand of a clear starlight night and see the dear old Plough shining in +the northern sky whilst the Southern Cross rode high in the eastern +heaven. But I can see them both now; and the last thing I always do before +going to bed is to go out and look first straight before me, where the +Plough hangs luminous and low over the sea, and then stroll toward the +right-hand or eastern side of the veranda and gaze up at the beautiful +Cross through the rustling, tall tree-tops. It is much too cold now to sit +out in the wide veranda and either watch the stars or try to catch a +glimpse of the monkeys peeping up over the edge of the ravine in the +moonlight, thereby awakening poor rheumatic old Boxer's futile rage by +their gambols. My favorite theory is that one is never so cold as in a +tropical country, and I have had great encouragement in that idea lately. +We are always regretting that no fireplace has been included in the +internal arrangements of this house, and when we go out to dinner part of +the pleasure of the evening consists in getting well roasted in front of a +coal-fire in the drawing-room. I am assured that a few months hence I +shall utterly deny this said theory, and refuse to believe the fireplaces +I see occasionally could ever be used except as receptacles for pots of +ferns and large-leaved plants. At present, however, it is, as I say, +delightfully, bracingly cold in the morning and evening, and almost too +cold for comfort at night unless indeed you are well provided with +blankets. We take long walks of three or four miles of an evening, +starting when the sun sinks low enough for the luxuriant hedges by the +roadside to afford us occasional shelter, and returning either in the +starlight dusk or in the crisper air of a moonlight evening. In every +direction the walk is sure to be a pretty one, whether we have the hill of +the Corps-de-Garde before us, with its distinctly-marked profile of a +French soldier of the days of the Empire lying with crossed hands, the +head and feet cutting the sky-line sharp and clear, or the bolder outlines +of blue Mount Ory or cloud-capped Pieter Both. Our path always lies +through a splendid tangle of vegetation, where the pruning-knife seems the +only gardening tool needed, and where the deepening twilight brings out +many a heavy perfume from some hidden flower. Above us bends a vault of +lapis-lazuli, with globes of light hanging in it, and around us is a +heavenly, soft and balmy air. Whenever I say to a resident how delicious I +find it all, he or she is sure to answer dolefully, "Wait till the hot +weather!" But my idea is, that if there _is_ this terrible time in front +of us, it is surely all the more reason why we should enjoy immensely the +agreeable present. That there is some very different weather to be battled +with is apparent by the extraordinary shutters one sees to all the houses. +Imagine doors built as if to stand a siege, strengthened by heavy +cross-pieces of wood close together, and, instead of bolt or lock, kept in +their places by solid iron bars as thick as my wrist. Every door and +window in the length and breadth of the island is furnished with these +_contre-vents_, or hurricane-shutters, and they tell their own tale. So do +the huge stones, or rather rocks, with which the roofs of the humbler +houses and verandas are weighted. My expression of face must have been +something amusing when I remarked triumphantly the other day to one of my +acquaintances, who had just observed that my house stood in a very exposed +situation, "But it has been built a great many years, and must have stood +the great hurricanes of 1848 and 1868." "Ah!" replied Cassandra +cheerfully; "there was not much left of it, I fancy, after the '48 +hurricane, and I _know_ that the veranda was blown right _over_ the house +in the gale of '68." Was not that a cheerful tale to hear of one's house? +Just now the weather is wet and windy as well as cold, and the constant +and capricious heavy showers reduce the lawn-tennis players to despair. + +If any one asked me what was the serious occupation of my life here, I +should answer without hesitation, "Airing my clothes." And it would be +absolutely true. No one who has not seen it can imagine the damp and +mildew which cover everything if it be shut up for even a few days. +Ammonia in the box or drawer keeps the gloves from being spotted like the +pard, but nothing seems to avail with the other articles of clothing. +Linen feels quite wet if it is left unused in the _almirah_, or chest of +drawers, for a week. Silk dresses break out into a measle-like rash of +yellow spots. Cotton or muslin gowns become livid and take unto themselves +a horrible charnel-house odor. Shoes and books are speedily covered a +quarter of an inch deep by a mould which you can easily imagine would +begin to grow ferns and long grasses in another week or so. + +Hats, caps, cloth clothes, all share the same damp fate, whilst, as for +the poor books, their condition is enough to make one weep, and that in +spite of my constant attention and repeated dabbings with spirits of wine. +And this is not the dampest part of the island by any means. Do not +suppose, however, that damp is the only enemy to one's toilette here. I +found a snail the other day in my wardrobe which had been journeying +slowly but effectively across some favorite silken skirts. Cockroaches +prefer tulle and net, and eat their way recklessly and rapidly through +choicest lace, besides nibbling every cloth-bound book in the island. On +the other hand, the rats confine their attentions chiefly to the boots and +shoes of the resident, and are at all events good friends to the makers +and sellers of those necessary articles. So, you see, garments are likely +to be a source of more trouble than pleasure to their possessor if he or +she is at all inclined to be always _tiré à quatre épingles_. + +Except these objectionable creatures, there is not much animal life astir +around me in the belle isle. It is too cold still for the butterflies, and +I do not observe much variety among the birds. There are flocks of minas +always twittering about my lawn--glossy birds very like starlings in their +shape and impudent ways, only with more white in the plumage and with +brilliant orange-colored circles round their eyes. There are plenty of +paroquets, I am told, and cardinal birds, but I have not yet seen them. A +sort of hybrid canary whistles and chirps in the early mornings, and I +hear the shrill wild note of a merle every now and then. Of winged game +there are but few varieties--partridges, quails, guinea-fowl and pigeons +making up the list--but, on the other hand, poultry seems to swarm +everywhere. I never saw such long-necked and long-legged cocks and hens in +my life as I see here; but these feathered giraffes appear to thrive +remarkably well, and scratch and cackle around every Malabar hut. I have +not seen a sheep or a goat since I arrived, nor a cow or bullock grazing. +The milch cows are all stall-fed. The bullocks go straight from shipboard +to the butcher, and the horses are never turned out. This is partly +because there is no pasturage, the land being used entirely for sugar-cane +or else left in small patches of jungle. As might be expected from such a +volcanic-looking island, the surface of the ground is extremely stony, but +the sugar-cane loves the light soil, and I am told that it thrives best +where the stones are just turned aside and a furrow left for the +cane-plant. After a year or so the furrow is changed by the rocks being +rolled back again into their original places, and the space they occupied +is then available for young plants. The wild hares are terrible enemies to +the first shoots of the cane, and we pass picturesque _gardiens_ armed +with amazing _fusils_ and clad in every variety of picturesque rag, +keeping a sort of boundary-guard at the edges of the sprouting +cane-fields. There are a great many dogs to be seen about, and they are +also regarded as gardiens; for the swarming miscellaneous Eastern +population does not bear the best reputation in the world for honesty, and +the police seem to have their hands full. All that I know about the use of +the dogs as auxiliaries is that they yelp and bark hideously all night at +each other, for every one seems to resent as a personal insult any +nocturnal visit from a neighbor's dog. + +The horses are better than I expected. When one hears that every +four-footed beast has to be imported, one naturally expects dear and +indifferent horses, but I am agreeably surprised in this respect. We have +horses from the Cape, from Natal, and even from Australia, and they do not +appear to cost more here than they would in their respective countries. I +may add that there is also no difficulty whatever in providing yourself +with an excellent carriage of any kind you prefer, and it is far better to +choose one here than to import one. I mention this because a carriage or +conveyance of some sort is the necessary of necessaries here--as +indispensable as a pair of boots would be in England. I scarcely ever see +any one on horseback: people never seem to ride, to my great regret. I am +assured that it will be much too hot to do so in the summer evenings, and +that the hardness of the roads prevents riding from being an agreeable +mode of exercise. Every village can furnish sundry _carrioles_ for hire, +queer-looking little conveyances, like a minute section of a tilt-cart +mounted on two crazy wheels and drawn by a rat of a pony. Ponies are a +great institution here, and are really more suitable for ordinary work +than horses. They are imported in large numbers from Pegu and other parts +of Birmah, and also from Java, Timur and different places in the Malay +Archipelago. They stand about twelve or fourteen hands high, and are the +strongest, healthiest, pluckiest little beauties imaginable, full of fire +and go. Occasionally I meet a carriage drawn by a handsome pair of mules, +and they are much used in the numerous carts and for farm-work, especially +on the sugar estates. They are chiefly brought from South America and from +the Persian Gulf, and have many admirers, but I cannot say I like them as +a substitute either for horses or for the gay little ponies. This is such +an exceedingly sociable place that I have frequent opportunities of +looking at the nice horses of my visitors, and most of the equipages would +do credit to any establishment. The favorite style of carriage in use here +is very like a victoria, only there is a curious custom of _always_ +keeping the hood up. It looks so strange to my eyes to see the hood, which +projects unusually far as a screen against either sun or rain, kept +habitually up, even during the brief and balmy twilight, when one fancies +it would be so much more agreeable to drive swiftly through the soft air +without any screening _soufflet_. Of course it would be quite necessary to +keep it up in the daytime, or even late at night against the heavy dew, +but this does not begin to fall until it is too dark to remain out +driving. + +I must say I like Mauritius extremely. It is so _comfortable_ to live in a +place with good servants and commodious houses, and the society is +particularly refined and agreeable, owing chiefly to the mixture of a +strong French element in its otherwise humdrum ingredients. I have never +seen such a wealth of lovely hair or such beautiful eyes and teeth as I +observe in the girls in every ball-room here; and when you add exceedingly +charming--alas! that I must say foreign--manners and a great deal of +musical talent, you can easily imagine that the style of the society is a +good deal above that to be found in most colonies. + +What weigh upon me most sadly in the Mauritius are the solitude and the +intense loneliness of the little island. We are very gay and pleasant +among ourselves, but I often feel as if I were in a dream as far as the +rest of the world is concerned, or as if we were all living in another +planet. Only once in a month does the least whisper reach us from the +great outer world beyond our girdling reef of breaking foam: only once in +four long weeks can any tidings come to us from those we love and are +parted from--any news of the progress of events, any thrilling incidents +of daily history; and it is strange how diluted the sense of interest +becomes by passing through so long an interval of days and weeks. The +force of everything is weakened, its strength broken. Can you fancy the +position of a ship at sea, not voyaging toward any port or harbor, but +moored in the midst of a vast, desolate ocean? Once in a weary while of +thirty days another ship passes and throws some mailbags on board, and +whilst we stretch out clamorous hands and cry for fuller tidings, for more +news, the vessel has passed out of our reach, and we are absolutely alone +once more. It is the strangest sensation, and I do not think one can ever +get reconciled to it. True, there is a great deal of talk just now about a +connecting cable which is some day to join us by electric wires to the +centres of civilization; but no telegraphic message can ever make up for +letters, and it will always be too costly for private use except on great +emergencies. Strange to say, the mercantile community, which is a very +influential one here, objects strongly to proposals of either telegraphic +or increased postal communication. They have no doubt good reasons for +their opinion, but I think if their pretty little children were on the +other side of the world, instead of close at hand, they would agree with +me that it is very hard to wait for four weeks between the mails. + + + + +AN ADVENTURE IN CYPRUS + + +"So this is Cyprus?" cries my English companion, Mr. James P----, turning +his glass with a critical air upon the glorious panorama that lies +outspread before us in all the splendor of the June sunrise. "Well, upon +my word, it's not so bad, after all!" + +Such a landscape, however, merits far higher praise than this thoroughly +English commendation. To the right surge up against the bright morning +sky, wave beyond wave, an endless succession of green sunny slopes which +might pass for the "Delectable Mountains" of Bunyan. To the left cluster +the vineyards which have supplied for nineteen centuries the far-famed +"wine of Cyprus." In front extends a wide sweep of smooth white sand, +ending on one side in a bold rocky ridge, and on the other in the tall +white houses and straggling streets and painted church-towers and gilded +cupolas of the quaint old town of Larnaka, which, outlined against a +shadowy background of purple hills, appears to us as just it did to Coeur +de Lion and his warriors when they landed here seven hundred years ago on +their way to the fatal crusade from which so few of them were to +return.[A] And all around, a fit frame for such a picture, extend the blue +sparkling sea and the warm, dreamy, voluptuous summer sky. + +"Wasn't it here that Fortunatus used to live?" says P----. "I wish I could +find his purse lying about somewhere: it would come in very handy just +now." + +"You forget that its virtue ended with his life," answer I; "and, +moreover, the illustrious man didn't live here, but at Famagosta, farther +along the coast, where, I dare say, the first Greek you meet will show +you 'ze house of Signor Fortunato,' and the original purse to boot, all +for the small charge of one piastre." + +Our landing is beset by the usual mob of yelling vagabonds, eager to +lighten our pockets by means of worthless native "curiosities," "antiques" +manufactured a month before, or vociferous offers to show us "all ze fine +sight of ze town, ver' sheap." Just as we have succeeded in fighting our +way through the hurly-burly a venerable old Smyrniote with a long white +beard, in whom we recognize one of our fellow-passengers on the steamer, +accosts us with a low bow: "Want see ze old shursh, genteelmen? All ze +Signori Inglesi go see zat. You wish, I take you zere one minute." + +"All right!" shouts P---- with characteristic impetuosity: "I'm bound to +see all I can in the time. Drive on, old boy: I'm your man." + +Away we go, accordingly, along the deep, narrow, tunnel-like streets, +flanked on either side by tall blank houses such as meet one at every turn +in Cairo or Djeddah or Jerusalem, between whose projecting fronts the +sunny sky appears like a narrow strip of bright blue ribbon far away +overhead, while all below is veiled in a rich summer twilight of purple +shadow, like that which fills the interior of some vast cathedral. But +ever and anon a sudden break in the ranked masses of building gives us a +momentary glimpse of the broad shining sea and dazzling sunlight, which +falls upon many a group that a painter would love to copy--tall, gaunt +Armenians, whose high black caps and long dark robes make their pale, +hollow faces look doubly spectral; low-browed, sallow, bearded Russians; +brawny English sailors, looking down with a grand, indulgent contempt upon +those unhappy beings whom an inscrutable Providence has doomed to be +"foreigners;" stolid Turks, tramping onward in silent defiance of the +fierce looks cast at them from every side; sinewy Dalmatians, with +close-cropped black hair; dapper Frenchmen, with well-trimmed moustaches, +casting annihilating glances at the few ladies who happen to be abroad; +and barefooted Greeks, with little baskets of fruit or fish perched on +their heads--ragged, wild-eyed and brigand-like as the lazzaroni who rose +from the pavement of Naples at the call of Masaniello. + +"Awful rascals some of these fellows look, eh?" remarks P---- in a stage +whisper. + +"Yes, their faces are certainly no letter of recommendation. There is some +truth, undoubtedly, in the _last_ clause of the old proverb: 'Greek wines +steal all heads, Greek women steal all hearts, and Greek men steal +everything.'" + +But at this moment our attention is drawn to a crowd a little way ahead, +the centre of attraction being apparently a good-looking young Greek from +the Morea, whose jaunty little crimson cap with its hanging tassel sets +off very tastefully his dark, handsome face and the glossy black curls +which surround it. He is leaning against the pillar of a gateway in an +attitude of unstudied grace that would charm an Italian painter, and +singing, to the accompaniment of his little three-stringed guitar, a +lively Greek song, of which we only come up in time to catch the last +verse: + + Look in mine eyes, lady fair: + There your own image you'll see. + Open my heart and look there: + _There_ too your image will be. + +The coppers that chink into the singer's extended hat show how fully his +efforts are appreciated; but at this moment P----, with the free-and-easy +command of a true John Bull, elbows his way through the throng, and calls +out: "Holloa, Johnny! we only got the fag-end of that song. Tip us +another, and here's five piastres for you" (about twenty-five cents). + +The musician seems to understand him, and with a slight preliminary +flourish on his instrument pours forth, in a voice as clear and rippling +as the carol of a bird, a song which may be thus translated: + + Men fret, men toil, men pinch and pare, + Make life itself a scramble, + While I, without a grief or care, + Where'er it lists me ramble. + 'Neath cloudless sun or clouded moon, + By market-cross or ferry, + I chant my lay, I play my tune. + And all who hear are merry. + + When summer's sun unclouded shines, + And mountain-shadows linger, + I watch them dance among the vines + As quicker moves my finger; + And so they sport till day is o'er, + And black-robed Night advances, + And where the maidens tripped before, + The lovely moonbeam dances. + + When 'neath the rush of winter's rain + The dripping forests welter, + The shepherd opes his door amain, + And gives me food and shelter. + I touch my chords, I trill my lay, + The firelight glances o'er us, + And wind and rain, in stormy play, + Join in with lusty chorus. + + 'Mid rustling leaves, 'neath open sky, + I live like lark or swallow: + There's not a bird more free to fly + Than I am free to follow. + And when grim Death his bow shall bend, + My mortal course suspending, + Oh may my life, howe'er it end, + Have music in its ending! + +Such music, supplemented by such a voice, strongly tempts us to remain and +hear more; but our impatient guide urges us onward, and in another minute +we stand before the dark, low-browed archway of the old church which we +have come to see. + +The quaint architecture of the outside is strange and old-world enough, +but when we enter, the dim interior, haunted by weird shadows and ghostly +echoes, has quite an unearthly effect after the bustling life of the city. +As is usual in Greek and Russian churches, there are no seats of any kind, +the whole interior being one wide bare space, dimly lighted by the two +tall candles on the altar and a few little oil-lamps attached to the +pictures of saints adorning the walls. The decorations have that air of +tawdry finery which is the most displeasing feature of the Eastern +churches; but the four frescoes at the farther end (representing the +Adoration of the Magi, our Lord's Baptism, the Crucifixion, and the +Descent into Hell), rude as they are, have a grim power which takes hold +of our fancy at once. Dante himself might approve the last of the four, in +which the lurid atmosphere, the hideous contortions of the demons, and the +surging flight of the half-awakened dead, with their blank faces and stony +eyes, contrast magnificently with the grand calmness of the divine Figure +in the centre--a perfect realization of the noble words of Milton: + + Some howled, some shrieked, + Some bent their fiery darts at thee, while Thou + Sat'st unappalled in calm and sinless peace. + +The only occupant of the building is a tall, dignified-looking priest, who +at once takes upon himself the part of expositor; but he is suddenly +interrupted by the hurried entrance of a man who whispers something in his +ear. The priest instantly vanishes into the sacristy, and, reappearing +with something like a casket under his arm, goes hastily out, muttering as +he passes us some words which my comrade interprets as "Follow me." + +We obey at once; but, in truth, it is no light matter to do so, for the +good father sets off at a pace which, considering the heat of the day and +the weight of his trailing robes, is simply astounding. Up one street, +down another, round a corner, along a narrow lane--on he rushes as if bent +upon rivalling that indefatigable giant who "walked round the world every +morning before breakfast to sharpen his appetite." + +"By Jove!" mutters P----, mopping his streaming face for the twentieth +time, "what he's going to show us ought to be something special, by the +hurry he's in to get to it. Anyhow, it's a queer style of showing us the +way, to go pelting on like that, and leave us to take care of ourselves. +I'll just halloo to him to slacken speed a bit." + +But just as he is about to do so the priest halts suddenly in front of a +high, blank wall of baked clay, in the midst of which a door opens and +swallows him as if by magic. We come tearing up a moment later, and are +about to enter at his heels when our way is unexpectedly barred by an ugly +old Greek with one eye and with a threadbare crimson cap pulled down over +his lean, sallow face, which looks very much like a half-decayed cucumber. +"What do you want?" he growls, eying us from head to foot with the air of +a bulldog about to bite. + +We explain our errand, and are electrified with the information that we +have been on the point of intruding ourselves into a private house; that +the priest's business there is to pray over the master of it, who is +dangerously ill; and that, in short, we have been "hunting upon a false +scent" altogether. Having imparted this satisfactory information, Cerberus +shuts the door in our faces (which are sufficiently blank by this time), +and leaves us to think over the matter at our leisure. + +"Confound the old mole!" growls P---- wrathfully: "if he didn't want us, +why on earth did he tell us to follow him, I should like to know?" + +"Are you quite sure that he _did_ say so?" ask I. "What were the Greek +words that he used?" + +"'Mê akolouthei,' or something like that." + +"Which means, '_Don't_ follow,'" I retort, transfixing the abashed +offender with a look of piercing reproach. "If _that's_ all that's left of +your Greek, you'd better buy a lexicon and take a fresh start. However, +there's nobody to tell tales if _we_ don't, that's one comfort." + +And so ends the first and last of our adventures in Cyprus. + +DAVID KER. + + + + +NEIGHBORLY LOVE. + + Eine Welt zwar bist du, O Rom; doch ohne die Liebe + Wäre die Welt nicht die Welt, wäre denn Rom auch nicht Rom.--GOETHE: + _Elegy I_. + + + "Maytide in Rome! The air 's a mist of gold, + In rainbow colors are the fountains springing, + The streets are like a garden to behold, + And in my heart a choir of birds are singing. + Haste to thy window, love: I wait for thee. + High o'er the narrow lane our glance may meet, + Our stretched hands all but clasp. Hither to me, + And make the glory of the hour complete. + + "No sound, no sign! The bowed blinds are not stirred. + I dare not cry, lest from the common street + Some passing idler catch one sacred word + That's dedicate to her. How may I greet + My love to-day? how may I lure her near? + Ah! I will write my message on her wall + In living sunshine. She shall see and hear: + The silent fire of heaven shall sound my call." + + He draws his casement: on the glittering glass + A captured sunbeam flashes sudden flame: + Between her blinds demure he makes it pass: + Its joyous radiance tells her whence it came. + She feels its presence like a fiery kiss; + Mantling her face leaps up the maiden's blood; + She flies to greet him. Oh immortal bliss! + For ever thus is old Rome's youth renewed. + +EMMA LAZARUS. + + + + +OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + + + +POE AND MRS. WHITMAN. + +Burns's Highland Mary, Petrarch's Laura, and other real and imaginary +loves of the poets, have been immortalized in song, but we doubt whether +any of the numerous objects of poetical adoration were more worthy of +honor than Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman, the friend and defender of Edgar A. +Poe. That he should have inspired so deep and lasting a love in the heart +of so true and pure a woman would alone prove that he was not the social +pariah his vindictive enemies have held up to the world's wonder and +detestation. The poet's love for Mrs. Whitman was the one gleam of hope +that cheered the last sad years of his life. His letters to her breathed +the most passionate devotion and the most enthusiastic admiration. One +eloquent extract from his love-letters to Mrs. Whitman will suffice. In +response to a passage in one of her letters in which she says, "How often +have I heard men, and even women, say of you, 'He has great intellectual +power, but no principle, no moral sense'!" he exclaims: "I love you too +truly ever to have offered you my hand, ever to have sought your love, had +I known my name to be so stained as your expressions imply. There is no +oath which seems to me so sacred as that sworn by the all-divine love I +bear you. By this love, then, and by the God who reigns in heaven, I swear +to you that my soul is incapable of dishonor. I can call to mind no act of +my life which would bring a blush to my cheek or to yours." + +Carried away by the ardor and eloquent passion of her poet-lover, and full +of the sweetest human sympathy and the tenderest human charity for one so +gifted but so unfortunate, Mrs. Whitman, against the advice of her +relatives and friends, consented to a conditional engagement. It was in +relation to this engagement, and the cause of its being broken off, that +one of the most calumnious stories against Poe was told, and believed both +in America and in Europe, but especially in England. Why the engagement +was broken, and by whom, still remains buried in mystery, but that Poe was +guilty of any "outrage" at her house upon the eve of their intended +marriage was emphatically denied by Mrs. Whitman. She pronounced the whole +story a "calumny." In a letter before me she says: "I do not think it +possible to overstate the gentlemanly reticence and amenity of his +habitual manner. It was stamped through and through with the impress of +nobility and gentleness. I have seen him in many moods and phases in those +'lonesome, latter years' which were rapidly merging into the mournful +tragedy of death. I have seen him sullen and moody under a sense of insult +and imaginary wrong. I have _never_ seen in him the faintest indication of +savagery and rowdyism and brutality." + +Some of the most tenderly passionate of Mrs. Whitman's verses were +inspired by her affection for Poe. She wrote six sonnets to his memory, +overflowing with the most exalted love and generous sympathy. The first of +these sonnets ends thus: + + _Thou_ wert my destiny: thy song, thy fame, + The wild enchantments clustering round thy name, + Were my soul's heritage--its regal dower, + Its glory, and its kingdom, and its power. + +When malice had exhausted itself in heaping obloquy upon the name of the +dead poet, it was the gentle hand of woman that first removed the odium +from his memory. It was Mrs. Whitman--who loved him and whom he +loved--that dared to penetrate the "mournful corridors" of that sad, +desolate heart, with its "halls of tragedy and chambers of retribution," +and tell the true but melancholy story of the unhappy master of the Raven. +It was she who generously came forward as "one of the friends" of him who +was said to have no friends. She was his steady champion from first to +last. Whether it was some crackbrain scribbler who tried to prove Poe +"mad," some accomplished scholar who endeavored to disparage him in order +to magnify some other writer, or some silly woman who attempted to foist +herself into notice by relating "imaginary facts" concerning the poet's +hidden life, Mrs. Whitman was always ready to defend her dead friend. + +One of the most touching incidents in Poe's early life was his affection +and fidelity to Mrs. Helen Stannard, who had completely won the sensitive +boy's heart by her kindness to him when he came to her house with her son, +a favorite school-friend. This lady died under circumstances of peculiar +sorrow, and her young admirer was in the habit of visiting her grave every +night. It was she--"the one idolatrous and purely ideal love" of his +passionate boyhood--who inspired those exquisite lines, "Helen, thy beauty +is to me." Mr. Richard Henry Stoddard, in his article on Poe published in +_Harper's Monthly_ for May, 1872, says, in allusion to Mrs. Stannard: "The +memory of this lady _is said_ to have suggested the most beautiful of his +minor poems, 'Helen,' though I am not aware _that Poe ever countenanced +the idea_." As Mrs. Whitman had distinctly stated in _Edgar Poe and his +Critics_ that Mrs. Stannard _had_ inspired the poem, she addressed a note +to Mr. Stoddard upon the subject, to which he sent the following reply: +"MY DEAR MRS. WHITMAN: So many months have elapsed since I wrote the paper +on Poe about which you write that I am unable to remember what I said in +it. I certainly had no intention to discredit any statement that you made +in _Edgar Poe and his Critics_, and if I have done so I am sorry for it, +and ask your forgiveness." + +In one of Mrs. Whitman's letters, now lying before me, she says: "So much +has been written, and so much still continues to be written, about Poe by +persons who are either his avowed or secret enemies, that I joyfully +welcome every friendly or impartial word spoken in his behalf. His enemies +are uttering their venomous fabrications in every newspaper, and so few +voices can obtain a hearing in his defence. My own personal knowledge of +Mr. Poe was very brief, although it comprehended memorable incidents, and +was doubtless, as he kindly characterized it in one of his letters of the +period, 'the most earnest epoch of his life;' and such I devoutly and +emphatically believe it to have been. You ask me to furnish you with +extracts from his letters, literary or otherwise. There are imperative +reasons why these letters cannot and _ought_ not to be published at +present--not that there was a word or a thought in them discreditable to +Poe, though some of them were imprudent, doubtless, and liable to be +construed wrongly by his enemies. They are for the most part strictly +_personal_. The only extract from them of which I have authorized the +publication is a fac-simile of a paragraph inserted between the 68th and +69th pages of Mr. Ingram's memoir in Black's (Edinburgh) edition of the +complete works of Poe. The paragraph in the original letter (dated +November 24, 1848) consists of only eight lines: 'The agony which I have +so lately endured--an agony known only to my God and to myself--seems to +have passed my soul through fire, and purified it from all that is weak. +Henceforward I am strong: this those who love me shall see, as well as +those who have so relentlessly endeavored to ruin me. It needed only some +such trials as I have just undergone to make me what I was born to be by +making me conscious of my own strength.' This and a protest against the +charge of indifference to moral obligations so often urged against him, +which I permitted Mr. Gill to extract for publication from a long letter +filled with eloquent and proud remonstrance against the injustice of such +a charge, are the only passages of which I have authorized the +publication. Other letters have been published without my consent. I have +endeavored to reconcile myself to the unauthorized use of private letters +and papers, since the effect of their publication has been on the whole +regarded as favorable to Poe." + +It was Mrs. Whitman who first attempted to trace Edgar Poe's descent from +the old Norman family of Le Poer, which emigrated to Ireland during the +reign of Henry II. of England. Lady Blessington, through her father, +Edmund Power, claimed the same illustrious descent. The Le Poers were +distinguished for being improvident, daring and reckless. The family +originally belonged to Italy, whence they passed to the north of France, +and went to England with William the Conqueror. In a letter dated January +3, 1877, Mrs. Whitman says: "For all that I said on the subject I _alone_ +am responsible. A distant relative of mine, a descendant, like myself, +from Nicholas le Poer, had long ministered to my genealogical proclivities +by stories which from my childhood had vaguely haunted and charmed my +imagination. When I discovered certain facts of Poe's history of which he +had previously made little account, he seemed greatly impressed by my +theory of our relationship. Of course I endowed him with my traditional +heirlooms. John Savage, who wrote some fine papers on Poe, which I _think_ +appeared in the _Democratic Review_, perhaps in 1858, said to a friend of +mine that the things most interesting and valuable to him in my little +book (_Poe and his Critics_) were its genealogical hints." + +When M. Stephane Mallarmé, an enthusiastic admirer of Poe's, undertook to +translate his works into French, he addressed Mrs. Whitman a complimentary +letter, from which the following passages are translated: "Whatever is +done to honor the memory of a genius the most truly divine the world has +seen, ought it not first to obtain your sanction? Such of Poe's works as +our great Baudelaire left untranslated--that is to say, the poems and many +of the literary criticisms--I hope to make known to France. My first +attempt, 'Le Corbeau,' of which I send you a specimen, is intended to +attract attention to a future work now nearly completed. I trust that the +attempt will meet your approval, but no possible success of my future +design could cause you, madam, a satisfaction equal to the joy, vivid, +profound and absolute, caused by an extract from one of your letters in +which you expressed a wish to see a copy of my 'Corbeau.' Not only in +space--which is nothing--but in _time_, made up for each of us of the +hours we deem most memorable in the past, your wish seemed to come to me +from _so_ far, and to bring with it the most delicious return of long +cherished memories; for, fascinated with the works of Poe from my infancy, +it has been a long time that your name has been associated with his in my +earliest and most intimate sympathies. Receive, madam, this expression of +a gratitude such as your poetical soul may comprehend, for it is my inmost +heart that thanks you." + +Mrs. Whitman translated Mallarmé's inscription intended for the Poe +monument in Baltimore. The last verse was thus rendered: + + Through storied centuries thou shall proudly stand + In the Memorial City of his land, + A silent monitor, austere and gray, + To warn the clamorous brood of harpies from their prey. + +E.L.D. + + +A LITTLE PERVERSITY IN WOMEN. + + MRS. PHILIP MARKHAM. PHILIP MARKHAM. + MISS ETHEL ARNOLD. FRANK BEVERLY. + + (The four have been dining together and discussing the people + they had met some hours before at a reception.) + + +_Philip Markham._ At all events, I call her a very beautiful woman.--Don't +you say so, Beverly? I am telling Miss Arnold that I considered Miss St. +John handsome. + +_Mrs. Markham._ Oh, Philip, how can you say so? + +_Beverly._ I admired her immensely. + +_Mrs. M._ (with a shrug). Oh, I dare say. A round, soulless face, a large +waist-- + +_Philip._ You women have no eyes. She has cheeks (to quote Cherbuliez) +like those fruits one longs to bite into, a pair of fine eyes, well-cut +lips--(Breaks off and laughs). + +_Mrs. M._ (severely). Pray go on. + +_Philip._ Not while you regard me with that virtuous air of condemnation. + +_Mrs. M._ I confess I saw nothing to admire in the girl except that she +looked healthy and strong. + +_Miss Arnold._ Nor did I. Moreover, she had the fault of being badly +dressed. + +_Beverly._ She was beautiful, then, not by reason of her dress, as most of +your sex are, but in spite of it. You women always underrate physical +beauty in each other. + +_Mrs. M._ (pretending not to have heard Beverly's remark). Yes, Ethel, +very badly dressed, and her hair was atrociously arranged. + +_Philip._ Oh, we did not look at her hair, we were so much attracted by +her face and figure. + +_Mrs. M._ (piqued). Take my advice, Ethel, and never marry. While we were +engaged Philip never thought of seeing beauty in any girl except myself: +now he is in a state of enthusiasm bordering upon frenzy over every new +face he comes across. + +_Beverly._ He knows, I suppose, that you do not mind it--that you are the +more flattered the more he admires the entire sex. + +_Mrs. M._ Of course I do not _mind_ it: the only thing is-- + +_Philip._ Well, what is the only thing, Jenny? + +_Beverly._ You remember, Cousin Jenny, I was talking the other day about +the perversity of your sex. You either cannot or will not understand your +husbands: they hide nothing, extenuate nothing, yet you fail to grasp the +idea of that side of their minds which is at once the best and the most +dangerous. If Philip did not regard all women with interest, and some with +particular interest, he could not have had it in his head to be half so +much in love with you as he is. + +_Philip._ That is true, Frank--so true that we won't ask how you found it +out. + +_Miss A._ You men always stand by each other so faithfully! Now, I have +observed these traits among my married friends: the husbands invariably +give a half sigh at the sight of a beautiful girl, implying, "Oh, if I +were not a married man!" while the wives, on meeting a man who attracts +admiration, as uniformly believe that, let him be ever so handsome, clever +or fascinating, he cannot compare with their own particular John. + +_Mrs. M._ That is true, Ethel; and it shows how much more faithful women +are than men. + +_Philip._ Now, Jenny, that is nonsense. + +_Beverly._ Oh, I dare say there is a soupçon of truth in it. But I think I +could give wives a recipe for keeping their husbands' affections, which, +unpopular although it might be, would yet prove salutary. + +_Miss A._ Give it by all means, Mr. Beverly. Anything so beneficial would +naturally be popular. + +_Beverly._ Pardon me, no. Were I to suggest a pilgrimage, a fast, or +scourgings even, the fair sex would undertake the remedy at once, for they +like some éclat about their smallest doings. All I want them to do is to +correct their little spirit of self-will and cultivate good taste. + +_Mrs. M._ Women _self-willed_! Most women have no will at all. + +_Beverly._ I never saw a woman yet who had not a will; and I am the last +person to deny their right to it. What I suggest is that they suit it to +the requirements of their lives, not let it torment them by going all +astray, by delighting in its errors and persisting in its chimeras. + +_Miss A._ I grant the first, that we have wills, but I do insist that we +have good taste. + +_Beverly._ Now, then, we will consider this abstract question. I maintain +that, considering their interest in women and their natural zest in +pursuing them, men show more right up-and-down faithfulness and devotion +to their obligations than women do. + +_Philip._ Hear! hear! + +_Miss A._ Oh, if you start upon the hypothesis that man is a being +incapable of-- + +_Beverly._ Not at all. You must, however, grant at the outset that man is +the free agent in society--has always been since the beginning of +civilization. He has made all the laws, enjoying complete immunity to suit +the requirements of his wishes and needs, yet everybody knows that, in +spite of the clamor of the woman-suffragists, all the laws favor women. +The basis of every system of civilized society proves that men are +inclined to hold themselves strictly to their obligations toward your sex. +There is no culprit toward whom a jury of men are less lenient than one +who has manifested any light sense of his domestic duties. Is not that +true? + +_Mrs. M._ I suppose it is. But it ought to be so, of course. It is +impossible for men to be good enough to their wives. + +_Beverly._ Just so. But what I claim is, that while every man holds, at +least theoretically, to the very highest ideal of a man's duties in the +marriage relation, very few wives render their husbands' existences so +altogether happy that these obligations become not only the habit but the +joy of their lives.--Don't interrupt me, Jenny.--Not but what the lovely +creatures are willing--nay, anxious--to do so, but just at the point of +accomplishment their little failings of blindness and perversity come in. +They are determined to retain their husbands' complete allegiance, but +their devices and contrivances are mostly dull blunders. Considering what +a frail tie, based on illusion, binds the sexes, my wonder as a bachelor +is that men are, as a rule, as faithful to their wives as they seem to be. + +_Philip._ We have been friends, Frank, for fifteen years, and I married +your first cousin, but notwithstanding all that Jenny will insist now that +I give up your acquaintance. + +_Mrs. M._ No, Philip, I am not angry with Frank: I only feel sorry for +him. + +_Miss A._ So do I. Yet I am curious to know, Jenny, what he means by +saying that wives' devices to keep their husbands' love are mostly dull +blunders. + +_Beverly._ I am waiting for a chance to develop my views. I know plenty of +men who are absolutely loyal to their wives--faithful to the smallest +obligation of married life--yet who regard their marriage as the great +folly of their youth. Now, a woman's intuitions ought to be, it seems to +me, so clear and unerring that she should never permit her face and voice +to become unpleasant to her husband. And this effect generally comes from +the absurdity of her attempts to hold him to her side: they have ended by +repelling him. Now, if your sex would only remember that we are horribly +fastidious, and that it is necessary to behave with good taste-- + +_Mrs. M._ Oh! oh! Monster! + +_Miss A._ Barbarian! + +_Beverly._ I will give you an instance. In our trip up and down the +Saguenay last summer you both remember the bridal couple on board the +boat? + +_Philip._ I remember the bride, a charming creature. The young fellow +could not compare with her in any qualities of cleverness or good looks. + +_Beverly._ Perhaps not. At the same time, he was her superior in some nice +points. Pretty although the bride was, and enviable as we considered his +good-luck, one could not help wincing for him when this delicate, refined +little creature "showed off" before the crowd of indifferent passengers. +At table she put her face so close to his, and when they stood or sat +together on deck she hung about him in such a way, that, as I noticed over +and over, it brought the blood to his cheeks and made him ashamed to raise +his eyes. Depend upon it, that young man, in spite of his infatuation, +said within himself a hundred times on his wedding-journey, "Poor innocent +little darling! she has no idea of the attention she attracts to us." + +_Mrs. M._ (eagerly). Yes, she did know all about it. She was so proud of +being newly married that if everyone with whom she came in contact would +not allude to her position she made a point of confiding the fact that she +was a bride of a week, and actually wore me out with pouring her raptures +into my ears. + +_Miss A._ Jenny, you should not have told that. It will confirm Mr. +Beverly in his cynicism regarding her want of taste. + +_Philip._ I remember the morning the young fellow and I walked into +Chicoutimi together that I said to him, "Lately married, I believe?" and +he only nodded stiffly and pointed out the falls in the distance. + +_Beverly._ Now, it is a deliciously pretty blunder for a bride to proclaim +her good-luck, but it is a blunder nevertheless. For six months a man +forgives it: after that he has no fondness for being paraded as a part and +parcel of a woman's belongings. By that time he has probably found out +that she is not all gushing unconsciousness. Besides this adorable +innocence I observed something else in this pretty bride. Despite her +fresh raptures, she was capable of jealousy: if her husband left her for +an hour he found her a trifle sullen on his return. + +_Miss A._ She had nobody else. + +_Mrs. M._ She naturally wanted to feel that he was interested in nothing +besides her. + +_Beverly._ But she should not have shown it. This is another perverse and +suicidal inconsistency on a woman's part: she should never exhibit these +small meannesses of pique, sullen tempers, jealousy, to her husband, since +they place her wholly at a disadvantage, making her less attractive than +the objects she wishes to detach him from. + +_Mrs. M._ (a little embarrassed and looking toward her husband +deprecatingly, at which he laughs and shakes his head). Woman is a +creature of impulse. She does not study what it is most politic for her to +do: she gives herself utterly--she simply asks for everything in return. + +_Beverly._ Does she give herself utterly? Does she not generally keep an +accurate debit-and-credit account of what is due to her? Then the moment +she feels her rights infringed upon, what is her usual course? She holds +it her prerogative to set out upon a course of conduct eminently qualified +to displease the very man whom it is her interest and her salvation to +please. + +_Mrs. M._ But he should try as well to please her. + +_Beverly._ That is begging the question. Besides, her requirements are +unreasonable. She holds too tight a rein: a man is never safe after he +feels that strain at the bit. Now even you, Jenny--whom I hold up as a +model of a wife--you will not let Philip express his admiration for a +pretty woman without-- + +_Mrs. M._ (eagerly). I delight in having him admire any one whom I +consider worthy of admiration. I do not like to see any man run away with +by an infatuation for mere outside beauty. + +_Beverly._ Yet "mere outside beauty" is clearly the most important gift +Nature has bestowed upon women. + + _Mrs. M._} Oh! oh! oh! + _Miss A._} + +_Philip._ What is your recipe, Frank, for putting an end to disagreements +between husbands and wives? + +_Beverly._ Wives are to give up studying their own requirements, and try +to understand their husbands. + +_Miss A._ And what will the result be? + +_Beverly._ All men, instead of remaining bachelors like myself, will +become infatuated with domestic life. No man could resist the prospect of +being constantly caressed, waited upon, admired, flattered. And once +married, a man's own home would become so fascinating a place to him that +he would never, except against his will, exchange it for his club or the +drawing-room of his neighbor's wife. + +_Miss A._ And in return are husbands prepared to give up a nice sense of +their own requirements and study to understand their wives? + +_Beverly._ Not at all: they are far too stupid to understand their wives: +there is something too fine and elusive about a woman's intellect and +heart to be attained by one of our sex. Besides, are things ever +equal--two souls ever just sufficiently like and unlike exactly to +understand each other? Let women perfect themselves in the art of giving +happiness, and the good action will command its own reward. + +_Miss A._ Do you comprehend, Jenny, what the full duty of woman is? For my +part, I think it is better to go on in the old way, since it is said that +"a mill, a clock and a woman always want mending." I think women have +their own little requirements. + +_Mrs. M._ (who has left her seat and gone round to her husband, and is +cracking his almonds with an air of being anxious to conciliate him). The +fact is, Ethel, you unmarried women know nothing at all about it. + +L.W. + + +ORGANIZATIONS FOR MUTUAL AID. + +A French gentleman, M. Court, has lately published in _La Religion Laïque_ +a series of articles upon this subject that have attracted much attention. +He proposes the establishment of a national fund for the support of the +aged and infirm, managed by eight members chosen annually, half by the +Chamber of Deputies, half by the Senate. The fund is to be raised by +legacies and donations; by a gift from the state of ten millions of +francs; by a percentage deducted by the state, the departments and the +communes from the pay of those who contract to furnish materials for +building, to do work, etc.; by a tax upon all who employ servants or other +laborers (one franc a month for each employé); and by a deduction from +collateral inheritances (_successions collatérals_). In time, about every +member of the community would be subjected directly or indirectly to +taxation for the support of the institution, and would have a right to its +benefits. + +To the ordinary mind the plan appears wholly impracticable from its +magnitude, if for no other cause; but it is evidently presented in good +faith, and is further proof of the general growth of the sentiment that +capital owes a debt to the labor of the world which cannot be satisfied +with the mere payment of wages. Most of the "sick funds" or other +provisions for the care of disabled workmen in great industrial +establishments owe their origin to the initiative of the proprietor. M. +Godin, the founder of the _Familistère_, a palatial home for the families +of some five hundred men employed in his iron-works at Guise, was one of +the first to institute a fund for mutual assistance and medical service, +supported by means of a tax of twenty cents a month on the salary of each +workman. Foreseeing the troubles that would arise should he attempt to +manage this fund in the interest of his men, he wisely refused to have any +share in this work, and induced them to elect a board of managers from +their own number having entire responsibility in the matter. The board is +composed of eighteen members, each of whom receives from M. Godin an +indemnity of five francs a month for time lost in visiting the sick, +committee-work, etc. + +"The assessment," writes M. Godin, "for the support of the fund to which +the workmen consented amounted to about one per cent. of their earnings. +The chief of the establishment at the same time contributed all the money +resulting from fines for spoiling work and for infractions of the rules of +the manufactory. Thanks to this combination, the three principal causes of +discord between patron and workman on the subject of relief-funds are +removed. First, mistrust and suspicion are avoided. The managers of the +treasury are of their own number, and therefore the workmen feel perfectly +free to hold them to strict account for every sou received or disbursed. +Second, as the fines for breaking the rules are devoted to the fund, the +workmen themselves are the sole gainers. This teaches them to respect the +rules, and they are little disposed to side with the refractory when they +oppose a fine. Third, fines for spoiling work cause no ill-will; indeed, +they are submitted to with a good grace. The fine benefits the fund; and, +moreover, as in the case of fines for breaking rules, the workman has +always a jury of his peers to appeal to: the board of managers is always +at hand to approve or disapprove of the fine." + +The fund thus administered has proved a great blessing to those who have +claims upon it, and the members of the board have worked together over +twelve years in the most exemplary harmony; or, in M. Godin's words, it +has "parfaitement fonctionné sans conflits, sans contestations d'aucune +sorte, et de manière à donner d'excellentes résultats." The average yearly +receipts have been eighteen thousand nine hundred francs; average +disbursements, eighteen thousand seven hundred and ninety-four francs. +Possibly these facts and figures may be of service to some of our chiefs +of industry who are studying to improve the condition of their employés. + +M.H. + + +NEW YORK AS AN ART-PATRON. + +That cities, like individuals, have idiosyncrasies that may be defined and +estimated, and that may be depended upon to lead to the adoption of a +certain line of action by the community in view of a certain set of +circumstances, is a fact which is continually receiving fresh +illustrations. The attitude of New York toward Mr. Theodore Thomas is a +case in point. There is among the works of the Scottish poet Alexander +Wilson, better known as the "American Ornithologist," a ballad entitled +"Watty and Meg; or, The Wife Reformed." Its moral is for all to read. +Watty's measure of domestic felicity was but scant, and when the burden +laid upon him became greater than he could bear he determined to leave the +cause of his misery: + + Owre the seas I march this morning, + Listed, tested, sworn an' a', + Forced by your confounded girning. + Farewell, Meg! for I'm awa'. + +In view of losing her husband and victim, Meg repented and swore to mend +her ways, conceding even Watty's stipulation to keep the family purse: + + Lastly, I'm to keep the siller: + This upon your saul you swear. + +Mr. Thomas gave New York no such opportunity, and she is now lamenting him +as Tom Hood's "female Ranter" mourns "The Lost Heir," "for he's my darlin' +of darlin's." She wonders why he did not continue + + Sitting as good as gold in the gutter, a-playing at making dirt-pies: + I wonder he left the court, where he was better off than all the other + young boys, + With two bricks, an old shoe, nine oyster-shells and a dead kitten by + way of toys. + +And, in truth, Mr. Thomas got little more from the city he has for +twenty-five years clung to and taught. If he came back, is it not likely +he might meet with the Lost Heir's reception? In the Scotch ballad also we +are left in uncertainty as to the genuineness of Meg's tears and promised +reform; and in any case no one can blame Mr. Thomas for announcing his +intention only after it was beyond alteration. + +It is not that New York cares for the money which would have kept him. +When did it refuse money when its sympathies were aroused? Look at its +magnificent charities, its help to Chicago, to famine-stricken China, and +the thousands that were daily poured into the hands of the sufferers from +yellow fever in the South. Religion is supported with the same munificent +liberality. But when literature, music or art are to be sustained, the +community becomes either flighty or apathetic. The best of New York's +monuments are the gifts either of societies formed upon the basis of a +common sentiment with which society at large has no active sympathy, or of +men of other nationalities. It has been broadly hinted that New York would +never have acquired the Cesnola collection of Cypriote pottery, gems and +statuary had it not found a competitor in England. The luxury of beating +the Britishers was too tempting to be declined, and led to a result which +might not have been reached had the question been nothing more than one of +art and art-education. Competition supplied the stimulus which should have +been furnished by a sense of the desirability of securing a collection so +rich and in every way, historically and artistically, so valuable. The New +York public, again, was never really interested in the Castellani +collection. It grudged the additional entrance-fee of twenty-five cents +levied by the trustees of the Metropolitan Museum. No leader arose to open +its eyes to the true value of a complete collection of majolica and +mediæval jewelry. The only known authority upon the subject of ceramics +proved to be a blind leader of the blind, and the only result of Mr. +Clarence Cook's interference was to leave the aforesaid gentleman in the +melancholy plight of a plucked crow. The collection was reshipped to +Europe while the feathers were still flying, and the public felt itself to +be a gainer to the extent of witnessing a piece of good sport. No sense of +loss spoiled its enjoyment of the fun. + +When, some months ago, it was announced that a college of music was to be +founded, New York scarcely paused to examine the plans of the proposed +building. The scheme fell prone to the ground upon the day of its birth. +The few who were in earnest communicated none of their fire to the +community at large. Society looked upon Mr. Thomas in a precisely similar +manner. It complacently regarded him as the greatest conductor of the age, +and its complacency was fed by its having an imaginary proprietary +interest in him. But while the few who really understood him and the +themes he handled bowed to him as their Apollo, the many had no real +homage to pay either of heart or head. He educated the people, and the +people believed in him and in the dictum of judges more competent than +they. But he was always above them, the men of influence and wealth who in +all such matters represent and _are_ society. He led them to lofty +heights, but no sooner had they reached one than he was seen flying to +another loftier still and still more perilous. He worked, moreover, as +only a genius and an enthusiast could work. He began by winning his +auditors. He went down to their level, humored them, pleased them, and +then filled their ears with music that was ravishing even when only +partially intelligible. Insensibly they grew to like it, and although +defections were large and many refused to rise above the "popular" +standard, there is no doubt that he succeeded in elevating the taste of +the general public. Year by year he was bringing his audiences nearer to +himself, and year by year he was winning new converts from the love of the +meretricious and flashy to that of the noble and pure. + +He alone derived no benefit from his labors. He had no adequate support, +no relief from the most sordid and worrying cares of life. He found +himself almost forced into competition that was degrading. Had he entered +into it he would have thrown down with his own hand the structure he had +spent his life in rearing. He was alternately warmed by the admiration and +love of a few and chilled by general apathy, and has chosen wisely in +going where he will at least be lifted above the necessity of struggling +for subsistence. New York has lost him, but had it known that Cincinnati +was trying to coax him away it would have let him go never. + +It is singular that the matter of making New York attractive to the lovers +of art and music is never looked at by its wealthy citizens from the +commercial point of view. Art and music exert influences that can be +computed upon strict business principles, and the policy of neglecting +them is extremely short-sighted. Every addition to the attractions of a +city, and especially of a city essentially commercial, is an addition to +its prosperity. The prestige that would have accrued to New York, and the +wealth that would certainly have been attracted to it, had it adopted +Cincinnati's course of action, would unquestionably have far more than +compensated for the outlay attending the endowment of a college of music +and the engagement of Theodore Thomas. With this assumption the +idiosyncrasy of New York may be viewed in full. Like the prudent merchant +of moderate attainments and medium culture, it is not far-seeing when a +question arises not strictly in its line of business. Sympathetic, +outwardly decorous, keenly sensitive, full of pity for the suffering, New +York enters the field of art in a purely mercantile spirit. It has no +love, but only that peculiar kind of affection that is the outgrowth of +triumph over a rival. An individual parallel might be found in the case of +the old gentleman who haunted the auction-rooms and filled his house with +loads of vases, bronzes and the like. "It's not the things I care for," he +said, "but there isn't a millionaire in the city I haven't outbid in +getting them together." + +J.J. + + +ONE OF THE SIDE ISSUES OF THE PARIS EXPOSITION. + +Slowly, but not the less surely, does the succession of international +industrial expositions strengthen the sentiment of peace among the +nations. Those who were interested in observing how gradually our +civilization is becoming industrial can remember during the Centennial +Exposition several notable instances of this. The Exposition of Paris and +the recent arbitration at Berlin have both stimulated the thought of +Europe in this direction, and the following instances of the direction it +is taking will be of interest, especially as they are such as are not +likely to be noticed by the regular correspondents. + +A pamphlet has been published at Foix, one of the provincial towns of +France, entitled, _Les Rondes de la Paix_. It was written by M. Adolphe de +Lajour, and its scope will appear from the following extract: "Why not +declare Constantinople and the Straits neutral? Why not declare +Constantinople the city for congresses of _unity_--the metropolis, the +Washington, of the United States of the two worlds? Why from the various +populations, differing in race, in manners, in religion and in language, +who inhabit the Balkan peninsula, should not a confederation of the United +States of the Danube be created on the model of Switzerland?" + +In the Exposition itself a printed sheet has been distributed, entitled +"La Marseillaise de la Paix." It was printed by the associated compositors +in the office of M.A. Chaix, who has recently organized his establishment +so that a share in the profits is accorded to the workers. The first two +verses of this new version will suffice to show its character: + + Allons, enfant de la patrie, + La jour de gloire est arrivé. + De la Paix, de la Paix chérie, + L'etendard brillant est levé! (_bis_) + Entendez-vous vers nos frontières, + Tous les peuples ouvrant leurs bras, + Crier à nos braves soldats: + Soyons unis, nous sommes frères! + Plus d'armes, citoyens, rompez vos bataillons! + Chantez, + Chantons! + Et que la Paix féconde nos sillons! + + Pourquoi ces fusils, ces cartouches? + Pourquoi ces obus, ces canons? + Pourquoi ces cris, ces chants farouches, + Ces fiers défis aux nations? (_bis_) + Pour nous Français, oh! quelle gloire, + De montrer au monde dompté, + Que les droits de l'humanité + Sont plus sacrés que la victoire! + Plus d'armes, etc. + +E.H. + + + + +LITERATURE OF THE DAY. + + +Superstition and Force: Essays on the Wager of Law, the Wager of Battle, +the Ordeal, Torture. By Henry C. Lea. Third Edition, revised. +Philadelphia: Henry C. Lea. + +Many will be tempted to say that this, like the _Decline and Fall_, is one +of the uncriticisable books. Its facts are innumerable, its deductions +simple and inevitable, and its _chevaux-de-frise_ of references bristling +and dense enough to make the keenest, stoutest and best-equipped assailant +think twice before advancing. Nor is there anything controversial in it to +provoke an assault. The author is no polemic. Though he obviously feels +and thinks strongly, he succeeds in attaining impartiality. He even +represses comment until it serves for little more than a cement for his +data. What of argument there is shapes itself mostly from his collation. +The minute and recondite records he throws together, in as much sequence +as the chaotic state of European institutions and society in the Middle +Ages will allow, are left to their own eloquence. And eloquent they are. +Little beyond the citation of them is needed to show the brutality of +chivalry, the selfish cruelty of sacerdotalism, and the wretchedness of +the masses enslaved by political and religious superstition, until Roman +law had a second time, after an interval of a thousand years, effected a +conquest of the Northern barbarians. The work does not confine itself, +historically, to that period nor to Europe, but what excursions are made +outside of that time and country are chiefly in the way of introduction +and conclusion. The moral defects which produce and perpetuate the follies +and abuses discussed by Mr. Lea are confined to no time or race. They are +inherent and abiding, and he takes care not to let us forget that the +struggle to subdue them cannot anywhere or at any time be safely relaxed. +We inherit, with their other possessions, the weaknesses and proclivities +of our ancestors, and we even find some of their specific acts of error +and injustice still imbedded in the institutions under which we live, and +more or less vividly reproduced in the routine of individual, corporate or +public existence. The compurgator slides into the witness and the juryman, +bringing with him the oath on the Bible and trial for perjury, and the +feed champion of the Church into the patron. The ordeal of battle is +fought out bloodlessly by lawyers, with often quite as little regard to +the merits of the case as could have been shown in the olden lists. Only +the baser physical ordeals, of fire, hot and cold water, etc., with +torture as a part of the regular machinery of justice, have died out, +evidencing the great rise in intelligence and independence of the bulk of +the people--the "lower orders" to whom these gross expedients were chiefly +applied. Other forms of legal outrage, however, less apparent and palpable +to the senses, have run deep into the nineteenth century, and are not yet +wholly abolished. Mr. Lea, by the way, does not, we observe, refer to the +trial of Bambridge in 1729 for torturing prisoners for debt "in violation +of the laws of England." Perhaps he threw it aside in the redundance of +other illustrative material. We must add, as proof of his impartiality, +the comparatively slight mention made of torture under the Inquisition--a +thing of which we have been told so much as to have fallen into a sort of +popular belief that the Holy Office had a monopoly of this particular +atrocity. + +Man will always, in some guise or other, manifest his faith in and +dependence on miracles, and will never cease to implore the special +interposition of the Deity. It is so much simpler thus to make a daily +convenience of his Creator than to consult those dry abstractions, the +laws of Nature. Of this deep and tiresome _x_ and _y_ he has not time to +solve the equation, granting it to be, in its ultimate terms, soluble. Who +shall say in each instance whether the impulse to decline that method and +adopt the shorter be superstition or religion? + +Whether looked on as a picture or a mirror, a work such as this has +lasting value. It enables us at any time to gauge the progress of +enlightenment, to ascertain what real gain has been made, what is +delusive, and what remains to be done that it is possible to do; for we +must not expect the record of human fatuity to be closed in our day. + + +The Witchery of Archery. By Maurice Thompson. New York: Charles Scribner's +Sons. + +The author of this little volume certainly succeeds in proving the truth +of his title to the extent of convincing his readers that archery has its +witchery; and we gather from his words that he has made practical converts +and imparted to many some portion of his own devotion to the immemorial +implement he may be said to have, in this country and among its white +inhabitants, reinvented. Seated in our easy-chair, we follow him gayly and +untiringly into the depths of the woods, drink in the rich, cool, damp +air, and revel in the primeval silence that is only broken by the twang of +the bowstring or the call of its destined victim. We enjoy his marvellous +shots with some little infusion of envy, and his exemplary patience under +ill-success and repeated failure with perhaps more. We end, like his +"Cracker" friend, with respecting sincerely the "bow-and-arrers" we were +at first disposed to view with amused contempt; and we close the book with +an unqualified recognition of the value of the bow as a means of athletic +training--a healthful recreation for those who have difficulty in finding +such means. + +This ancient weapon of war and the chase, which has won so many battles +and conquered so many kingdoms, has since the introduction of gunpowder +been too readily allowed to sink into a plaything for boys. They retain +something of a passion for it. Many can remember when they were wont to +select the choicest splits of heart-hickory from the wood-pile, lay them +aside to season, and then shape them, or have them shaped by stronger and +defter hands, into the four-foot bow, equivalent to the six-foot bow of +the man. The arrows were harder to get in any satisfactory quantity, for +they were rapidly shot away, and they were hard to properly point and +scientifically feather. The processes were altogether too abstruse to come +out well from homemade work in boyish hands. So the results were not +usually brilliant, being confined to the destruction of a few sparrows, +the breaking of some windows and the serious maltreatment of the family +cat. Such achievements did not commend themselves to parents, and archery +rested under a cloud from which it failed to emerge as the youthful +practitioners grew up. It retained its charm for them in books, however. +The visit of Peter Parley to Wampum was the most delightful part of that +historian's works; and Robin Hood and William Tell earned a yearning and +trustful admiration which refuses to yield to the criticisms employed in +reducing those characters to myths--triumphs of the "long-bow" in another +sense. And here we are reminded that Mr. Thompson's affection is lavished +wholly on the long-bow. The cross-bow, a weapon which largely superseded +it in the Middle Ages for war and sport, the English gentleman's +"birding-piece" before he took to the gun, he will not hear of. The +sportsman of tender years often prefers it. It is less troublesome in the +matter of ammunition. Any missile will answer for it, from a sixpenny nail +to a six-inch pewter-headed bolt--projectiles which travel two hundred +yards with force and precision. The draft on the muscular strength is of +course the same with either form of the bow, but the long-bow admits of +its being more easily graduated, and is therefore preferable for the +exercise-ground. + +Mr. Thompson, we observe, seems to disregard the spiral arrangement of the +feather, and the rotary movement around the axis of flight imparted by it +to the arrow. He uses three strips of feather, which is better than two +flat ones for the purpose of keeping the missile steady, but still does +not prevent its swerving toward the end of its course, as more than one +vexatious incident of his hunting record shows. This usage may help to +account for the superiority of the old bowmen to the amateurs of to-day in +accuracy at long ranges. The best targets reported on the part of the +latter, such as "eleven shots in a nine-inch bull's-eye, out of thirteen, +at forty yards," and "ten successive shots in a sheet of paper eight +inches square at thirty yards," are poor by the side of the exploits of +the yeomen and foresters on the archery-grounds of yore. To split a +willow-wand at two hundred paces must have required something in the way +of practice and system more precise and absolute than the guesswork Mr. +Thompson concedes to be unavoidable to-day with the utmost care and +experience. It could not have been done with a missile liable, in the +calmest atmosphere, the moment it passed the point-blank, to unaccountable +aberrations, vertically and horizontally. + + +The China-Hunters' Club. By the Youngest Member. New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +The literature of which this is a new specimen would have astonished the +reading public of ten years ago, as it probably will that of ten years +hence. Library shelves which knew it not at the former period are nearly +filled now, and fast becoming crowded. Shall we predict that at the future +date named their contents will be nearly invisible for dust? No. Much of +what is going through the press on the subject of pottery will have its +use as promoting the advancement and clearing up the history of fictile +art, and will therefore be preserved, while a larger portion will interest +only the few who delve into the records of human caprice and whim. Even +these will not particularly care to know or remember what factory-brand +was borne by the teapots and saucers of our grandmothers, and what +Staffordshire modeller or woodcutter was responsible for the usually +atrocious decorations of those utensils. They will smile but once over the +pleasant lunacy of a hunt, printed and illustrated, among New England +cottages for forgotten and more or less damaged crockery. The Youngest +Member herself--by that time promoted probably to the ranks of the matrons +whose treasures she delights to ransack--will be slow to recall and +understand her enthusiasm of to-day, and marvel at her ever having +detected charms in the homely things of clay she deems worthy of the +graver. We, her contemporaries, however, living in the midst of the +contagion to which she is a conspicuous victim, can follow her flying +footsteps in the chase after potsherds with some sympathy, lag though we +may far in the rear. We enjoy the lively style in which she depicts her +"finds," and the bright web of sentiment and story with which she weaves +them into unity. The receptacles of beer, tea, cider and shaving-soap that +figure in her woodcuts are old friends we are glad to see again, and none +the less so for the somewhat startling duty they are made to perform in +the illustration of æsthetic culture. We learn secrets about them we never +dreamed of before. We are told where they came from, have explained to us +the mystic meaning of their designs, and are pointed to the stamps on +their bottoms or some other out-of-the-way part of their anatomy +infallibly betraying their age, nativity and parentage. Every reader will +be treated to special revelations of this sort, some more, some less, some +one and some another. For our individual share we are favored with +enlightenment as to three of our private possessions. One of these is the +Dog Fo, a little white Chinese monstrosity. We have been familiar from +childhood with two of him, seated in unspeakable but complacent +hideousness at the opposite ends of the chimney-piece. No. 2 is a gallon +pitcher, sacred to the gingerbread of two generations, and ornamented with +a ship under full sail on one side and a coat-of-arms on the other, not +now remembered, the whole article having recently disappeared in some way +or direction unknown and untraceable unless by the most indefatigable of +ceramists. The third is a smaller pitcher in mottled unglazed clay, +antique in shape and ornamentation, except that a figure in the costume of +Queen Bess's time stands cheek-by-jowl with a group resembling that on the +Portland Vase. This anachronism caused us to be puzzled by the word +Herculaneum impressed on the bottom, not unworthy as the general beauty of +the work was of such a source. The mystery stands explained by the book +before us. Herculaneum was the name of a manufactory of earthenware near +Liverpool, in this case almost as misleading as the inscription of Julius +Cæsar on a dog-collar too hastily inferred to have been worn by a canine +pet of the great dictator. + +The author concludes, "as a result of our hunting along the roads of New +England, that there is a great deal of money-value in old crockery which +lies idle in pantries, and that collectors who have money to spend do a +great deal of good in a small way by giving the money for the crockery. +And, strange as you may think it, it is very rare to find an owner of old +pottery in the country, whatever be the family associations, who would not +rather have the money." + + + + +_Books Received._ + +Plays for Private Acting. Translated from the French and Italian. By +Members of the Bellevue Dramatic Club of Newport. (Leisure-Hour Series.) +New York: Henry Holt & Co. + +A Primer of German Literature. By Helen S. Conant.--A Year of American +Travel. By Jessie Benton Fremont.--Hints to Women on the Care of Property. +By Alfred Walker. (Harper's Half-Hour Series.) New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +A Handbook of Politics for 1878: Being a Record of Important Political +Action, National and State, from July 15, 1876, to July 1, 1878. By Hon. +Edward McPherson, LL.D., of Gettysburg, Pa. Washington: Solomons & +Chapman. + +Christine Brownlee's Ordeal. By Mary Patrick.--A Beautiful Woman. By Leon +Brook. (Nos. 7 and 8 of Franklin Square Library.) New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +The Cossacks: A Tale of the Caucasus in 1852. By Count Leo Tolstoy. +Translated from the Russian by Eugene Schuyler. New York: Charles +Scribner's Sons. + +D'ye Want a Shave? or, Yankee Shavings; or, A New Way to get a Wife: A +Three-Act Comedy. By William Bush. St. Louis. William Bush. + +Colonel Dunwoddie, Millionaire. (No. 5 Harper's Library of American +Fiction.) New York: Harper & Brothers. + +Play-Day Poems. Collected and edited by Rossiter Johnson. (Leisure-Hour +Series.) New York: Henry Holt & Co. + +Maid Ellice: A Novel. By Theodore Gift. (Leisure-Hour Series.) New York: +Henry Holt & Co. + +Chums: A Satirical Sketch. By Howard MacSherry. Jersey City: Charles S. +Clarke, Jr. + +The Student's French Grammar. By Charles Heron Wall. New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +The Ring of Amethyst. By Alice Wellington Rollins. New York: G.P. Putnam's +Sons. + +The Crew of the "Sam Weller." By John Habberton. New York: G.P. Putnam's +Sons. + +Saxe Holm's Stories. Second Series. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. + +Samuel Johnson. By Leslie Stephen. New York: Harper & Brothers. + + + + +_Music Received._ + +The Battle Prayer. By Himmel. Part-songs for Male Voices, No. 4. (Lotus +Club Collection.) Composed and arranged by A.H. Rosewig. Philadelphia: Wm. +H. Boner & Co. + +Weep no More: Song. Words by Mrs. A.B. Benham; Music by Augustus V. +Benham, the great Child Pianist. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner & Co. + +Who is Sylvia? Song for Soprano or Tenor. (English, German and Italian +Words.) By Franz Schubert. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner & Co. + +Whoa, Emma! Written and Composed by John Read. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner +& Co. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] Lord Beaconsfield is not the first to appreciate the strategic value +of Cyprus. It was fully valued by the Venetians, as well as by the Knights +of St. John, who would fain have made _it_ their island-fortress instead +of Rhodes; while Napoleon singled it out as one of the principal points in +his projected anti-Turkish campaign in 1798. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular +Literature and Science, Volume 22. October, 1878., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + +***** This file should be named 19093-8.txt or 19093-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/9/19093/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine D. and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/19093-8.zip b/19093-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4163cc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-8.zip diff --git a/19093-h.zip b/19093-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2ab586 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h.zip diff --git a/19093-h/19093-h.htm b/19093-h/19093-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8cb2287 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/19093-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9255 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 22. October, 1878. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + img {border: 0} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + + .padding {padding-bottom: 2em; padding-top: 2em;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right;} + .left {text-align: left;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: smaller; padding-bottom: 2em; padding-top: .5em;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature +and Science, Volume 22. October, 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. October, 1878. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 21, 2006 [EBook #19093] + +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 /> +OCTOBER, 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> & 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='2'><a href="#ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>WARWICK AND COVENTRY. <a href="#WARWICK_AND_COVENTRY">393</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>LITTLE BOY BLUE. <a href="#LITTLE_BOY_BLUE">402</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>THE PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1878. <a href="#THE_PARIS_EXPOSITION_OF_1878">403</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>"FOR PERCIVAL."</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XLII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">418</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XLIII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">422</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XLIV. <a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">424</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XLV. <a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">430</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>UNWRITTEN LITERATURE OF THE CAUCASIAN MOUNTAINEERS. <a href="#UNWRITTEN_LITERATURE_OF_THE_CAUCASIAN_MOUNTAINEERS">437</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>OF BARBARA HICKS. <a href="#OF_BARBARA_HICKS">447</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>LADY MORGAN. <a href="#LADY_MORGAN">466</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>A COMPARISON. <a href="#A_COMPARISON">474</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>THROUGH WINDING WAYS</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XI. <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">475</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>CHAPTER XII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">479</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>COMMUNISTS AND CAPITALISTS. <a href="#COMMUNISTS_AND_CAPITALISTS">485</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>AT FRIENDS' MEETING. <a href="#AT_FRIENDS_MEETING">493</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>LETTERS FROM MAURITIUS.—I. <a href="#LETTERS_FROM_MAURITIUS_I">494</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>AN ADVENTURE IN CYPRUS <a href="#AN_ADVENTURE_IN_CYPRUS">504</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>NEIGHBORLY LOVE. <a href="#NEIGHBORLY_LOVE">507</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>POE AND MRS. WHITMAN. <a href="#Page_508">508</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>A LITTLE PERVERSITY IN WOMEN. <a href="#Page_510">510</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>ORGANIZATIONS FOR MUTUAL AID. <a href="#Page_514">514</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>NEW YORK AS AN ART-PATRON. <a href="#Page_515">515</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>ONE OF THE SIDE ISSUES OF THE PARIS EXPOSITION. 516</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>LITERATURE OF THE DAY. <a href="#LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY">517</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Books Received. <a href="#Books_Received">520</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='left'>Music Received. <a href="#Music_Received">520</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#FOOTNOTES">FOOTNOTES</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2></div> + +<p> +<a href="#OBLIQUE_GABLES_IN_WARWICK">OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK.</a><br /> +<a href="#PORCH_WITH_BOW-WINDOW_UNDER_OUTSIDE_WARWICK_GATES">PORCH WITH BOW-WINDOW UNDER, OUTSIDE WARWICK GATES.</a><br /> +<a href="#LORD_LEICESTERS_HOSPITAL_WARWICK">LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL, WARWICK.</a><br /> +<a href="#COVENTRY_GATEWAY">COVENTRY GATEWAY.</a><br /> +<a href="#SPIRE_OF_ST_MICHAELS_COVENTRY">SPIRE OF ST. MICHAEL'S, COVENTRY.</a><br /> +<a href="#STREET_IN_COVENTRY">STREET IN COVENTRY.</a><br /> +<a href="#BABLAKES_HOSPITAL_COVENTRY">BABLAKE'S HOSPITAL, COVENTRY.</a><br /> +<a href="#GRAND_CUPOLA">GRAND CUPOLA AT ONE OF THE CHIEF ENTRANCES TO THE MAIN BUILDING.</a><br /> +<a href="#THE_CHINESE_SECTION">THE CHINESE SECTION.</a><br /> +<a href="#THE_INDIAN_COURT">THE INDIAN COURT: THE PRINCE OF WALES EXHIBIT.</a><br /> +<a href="#THE_CANADIAN_TROPHY">THE CANADIAN TROPHY.</a><br /> +<a href="#INDIANS_MAKING_KASHMIR_SHAWLS">INDIANS MAKING KASHMIR SHAWLS.</a><br /> +<a href="#TROPHY_IN_THE_COURT_OF_THE_DUTCH_INDIES">TROPHY IN THE COURT OF THE DUTCH INDIES.</a><br /> +<a href="#WALKING_TO_ST_SYLVESTERS">WALKING TO ST. SYLVESTER'S.</a><br /> +<a href="#SHE_WAS_ASLEEP">"SHE WAS ASLEEP."</a><br /> +</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span></p> + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="WARWICK_AND_COVENTRY" id="WARWICK_AND_COVENTRY"></a>WARWICK AND COVENTRY.</h2></div> + +<p><a name="OBLIQUE_GABLES_IN_WARWICK" id="OBLIQUE_GABLES_IN_WARWICK"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/img1.jpg"><img src="images/img1th.jpg" width="400" height="398" alt="OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK." title="OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK." /></a> +<span class="caption">OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK.</span> +</div> + +<p>The history of England is written in living characters in the provincial +towns of the kingdom; and it is this which gives such interest to places +which have been surpassed commercially by great manufacturing centres and +overshadowed socially by the attractions of London. The local nobility +once held state little less than royal in houses whose beautiful +architecture now masks a hotel, a livery-stable, a girls' school, a +lawyer's office or a workingmen's club, and there are places where almost +every cottage, every wooden balcony or overhanging oriel, suggests +something romantic and antique. Even if no positive association is +connected with one of these humbler specimens of English domestic +architecture, you can fall back on the traditional home of love and +poetry, the recollections of idyls and pastorals daily acted out by +unconscious illustrators of the poets from one generation to another. +Modern life engrafted on these old towns and villages seems prosaic and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>unattractive, though practically it is that which first strikes the eye. +New fronts mask old buildings, as new manners do old virtues; and if we +come to the frame and adjuncts of daily life, we must confess that +nineteenth-century trivialities are intrinsically no worse than mediæval +trivialities.</p> + +<p>There are in Warwick more modern houses and smart shops than ancient +gabled and half-timbered houses, but the relics of the past are still +striking: witness the ancient porch of the good old "Malt-Shovel," with +its bow-window, in which the Dudley retainers often caroused, and the +oblique gables in one of the side streets, which Rimmer, a minute observer +of English domestic architecture, thus describes: "An acute-angled street +may be made to contain rectangular rooms on an upper story.... Draw an +acute angle—say something a little less than a right angle—and cut it +into compartments; or, if preferred, an obtuse angle, and cut this into +compartments also. Now, the roadway may be so prescribed as to prevent +right angles from being made on the basement, but the complementary angles +are ingeniously made out by allowing the joists to be of extra length, and +cutting the ends off when they come to the square. The effect is extremely +picturesque, and I cannot remember seeing this peculiar piece of +construction elsewhere."</p> + +<p>At the western end of High street stands Leicester's Hospital, which was +originally a hall belonging to two guilds, but, coming into possession of +the Dudleys, was converted into a hospital by Elizabeth's favorite in +1571. The "master" was to belong to the Established Church, and the +"brethren" were to be retainers of the earl of Leicester and his heirs, +preference being given to those who had served and been disabled in the +wars. The act of incorporation gives a list of neighboring towns and +villages, and specifies that queen's soldiers from these, in rotation, are +to have the next presentations. There is a common kitchen, with a cook and +porter, and each brother receives some eighty pounds per annum, besides +the privileges of the house. Early in this century the number of inmates +was increased to twenty-two, unlike many such institutions, whose funded +property accumulated without the original number of patients or the amount +of their pensions being correspondingly increased. The hospital-men still +wear the old uniform—a gown of blue cloth, with the silver badge of the +Dudleys, the bear and ragged staff. The chapel has been restored in nearly +the old form, and stretches over the pathway, with a promenade at the top +of the flight of steps round it, and the black-and-white (or +half-timbered) building that forms the hospital encloses a spacious open +quadrangle in the style common to hostelries. The carvings are very fine +and varied, and add greatly to the beauty of the galleries and covered +stair. The monastic charities founded by men of the old religion are now +in the hands of the corporation for distribution among the poor of the +town, and besides the old grammar-school founded by Henry VIII., with a +yearly exhibition to each of the universities, and open to all boys, rich +and poor, of the town, there are five other public schools and forty +almshouses. The old generous, helpful spirit survives, in spite of new +economic theories, in these English country towns, and landlords and +merchants have not yet given up the old-fashioned belief that where they +make their money they are bound to spend it to the best advantage of their +poorer and less fortunate neighbors. Many local magnates, however, have +departed from this rule. Country gentlemen no longer have houses in the +county-town, but flock to London for the purposes of social and +fashionable life. They have decidedly lost in dignity by this rush to the +capital, and it is doubtful how far they have gained in pleasure, though +the few whose means still compel them to stay at home, or only go to town +once or twice in a lifetime for a court presentation, would gladly take +the risk for the sake of the experiment. The feeling which made the Rohans +adopt as a motto, "Roy ne puis—Prince ne veux—Rohan je suis," is one +which is theoretically strong among the country squires of England, the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>possessors of the bluest blood and longest deeds of hereditary lands; but +the snobbishness of the nineteenth century is practically apt to taint the +younger branches when they read of garden-parties given by the royal +princes or balls where duchesses and cabinet ministers are as plentiful as +blackberries. Their great-grandmothers, it is true, were sometimes +troubled with the same longings, for among the many proclamations against +the residence in London of country gentlemen in unofficial positions is +one of James I., noticing "those swarms of gentry, who, through the +instigation of their wives, do neglect their country hospitality and +cumber the city, a general nuisance to the kingdom;" and the royal +Solomon elsewhere observes that "gentlemen resident on their estates are +like ships in port—their value and magnitude are felt and acknowledged; +but when at a distance, as their size seemeth insignificant, so their +worth and importance are not duly estimated." There is a weak point in +this simile, however; so, to cover it with a better and more unpretentious +argument, I will quote a few lines from an old poem of Sir Richard +Fanshawe on the subject of one of these proclamations:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor let the gentry grudge to go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into those places whence they grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But think them blest they may do so.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who would pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The smoky glories of the town<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That may go till his native earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by the shining fire sit down<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On his own hearth?<br /></span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Believe me, ladies, you will find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that sweet life more solid joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More true contentment to the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than all town toys.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><a name="PORCH_WITH_BOW-WINDOW_UNDER_OUTSIDE_WARWICK_GATES" id="PORCH_WITH_BOW-WINDOW_UNDER_OUTSIDE_WARWICK_GATES"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 317px;"> +<a href="images/img4.jpg"><img src="images/img4th.jpg" width="317" height="400" alt="PORCH WITH BOW-WINDOW UNDER, OUTSIDE WARWICK GATES." title="PORCH WITH BOW-WINDOW UNDER, OUTSIDE WARWICK GATES." /> +</a><span class="caption">PORCH WITH BOW-WINDOW UNDER, OUTSIDE WARWICK GATES.</span> +</div> + +<p>The solemn county balls, to which access was as difficult as it is now to +a court festivity, have dwindled to public affairs with paid +subscriptions, yet even in their changed conditions they are somewhat of +an event in the winter life of a neighborhood. Everybody has the entrée +who can command the price of a ticket, though, as a rule, different +classes form coteries and dance among themselves. The country-houses for +ten or twelve miles around contribute their Christmas and New Year guests, +often a large party in two or three carriages. Political popularity is not +lost sight of, and civilities to the wives and daughters of the tradesmen +and voters often secure more support in the next election than strict +principle warrants; but though the men thus mingle with the majority of +the dancers, it is seldom the ladies leave the upper end of the hall, +where the local aristocracy holds a sort of court. In places where there +is a garrison the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> military are a great reinforcement to the body of +dancers and flirts. The society proper of a county-town is mostly cut up +into a small clique of clerical and professional men, with a few spinsters +of gentle eccentricity and limited means, the sisters and aunts of country +gentlemen, and a larger body of well-to-do tradesmen and their families, +including the ministers of the dissenting chapels and their families. One +of the latter may be possibly a preacher of local renown, and one of the +Anglican clergy will almost invariably be an antiquary of real merit. The +mayor and corporation belong, as a rule, to the larger set, but the +lawyers and doctors hold a neutral position and are welcomed everywhere, +partly for the sake of gossip, partly for their own individual merits. +Warwick has the additional advantage over many kindred places of the near +neighborhood of Leamington, a fashionable watering-place two miles and a +half distant, one of the mushrooms of this century, but in a practical +point of view one of the brightest and most attractive places in England. +At present it far surpasses Warwick in business and bustle, and possesses +all the adjuncts of a health-resort, frequented all the year round, and +inhabited by hundreds of resident invalids for the sake of the excellent +medical staff collected there. One of its famous physicians was often sent +for, instead of a London doctor, to the great houses within a radius of +forty or fifty miles. The assembly-rooms, hotels, baths, gardens, bridges +and shops of Leamington vie with those of the continental spas, and the +display of dress and the etiquette of society are in wonderful contrast to +the state of the quiet village fifty years ago. But it is pleasant to know +that the new town has already an endowed hospital, founded by Dr. +Warneford and called by his name, where the poor have gratuitous baths and +the best medical advice. Not content with being a centre in its own way, +Leamington has improved its prospects by setting up as a rival to Melton +Mowbray in Leicestershire, known as the "hunting metropolis." Three packs +of hounds are hunted regularly during the season within easy distance of +the town, which has also annual steeplechases and a hunting club; and this +sporting element serves to redeem Leamington from the character of masked +melancholy which often strikes a tourist in visiting a regular +health-resort.</p> + +<p>In natural beauty Warwickshire is surpassed by other counties, but few can +boast of architectural features equally striking—such magnificent +historical memorials as Kenilworth and Warwick castles, and the humbler +beauties to be found in the houses of Stratford-on-Avon, Polesworth and +Meriden. The last is remarkable—as are, indeed, all the villages of +Warwickshire—for its picturesque beauty, and above all for the position +of its churchyard, whence lovely views are obtained of the country around. +Of Polesworth, Dugdale remarks, that, "for Antiquitie and venerable esteem +it needs not to give Precedence to any in the Countie." "There is a +charming impression of age and quiet dignity in its remains of old walls, +its remains of old trees, its church and its open common," says Dean +Howson. Close to the village, on a hill commanding a view of it, stands +Pooley Hall, whose owner in old days obtained a license from Pope Urban +VI. to build a chapel on his own land, "by Reason of the Floods at some +time, especially in Winter, which hindered his Accesse to the +Mother-Church." In the garden of this hall, a modest country-house, a type +of the ordinary run of English homes, stands a chapel—not the original +one, but built on its site—and from it one has a view of the level +ground, the village and the river, evidently still liable to floods. The +part of the county that joins Gloucestershire is rich in apple-orchards, +which I remember one year in the blossoming-time, while the early grass, +already green and wavy, fringed the foot of the trees, and by the road as +we passed we looked through hedges and over low walls into gardens full of +crocuses, snowdrops, narcissuses, early pansies and daffodils, for spring +gardens have become rather a mania in England within ten or twelve years. +Here and there older fragments of wall lined the road, and over one of +these, from a height of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> eight feet or so, dropped a curtain of glossy, +pointed leaves, making a background for the star-shaped yellow blossoms, +nearly as large as passion-flowers, of the St. John's-wort, with their +forest of stamens standing out like golden threads from the heart of the +blossom. At the rectory of the village in question was a very clever man, +an unusual specimen of a clergyman, a thorough man of the world and a born +actor. His father and brother had been famous on the stage, and he himself +struck one as having certainly missed his calling, though in his +appearance and manner he was as free as possible from that discontented +uneasiness with which an underbred person alone carries a burden. His +duties were punctually fulfilled and his parish-work always in order, yet +he went out a good deal and stayed at large houses, where he was much in +request for his marvellous powers of telling stories. This he did +systematically, having a notebook to help his memory as to what anecdotes +he had told and to whom, so that he never repeated himself to the same +audience. Besides stories which he told dramatically, and with a +professional air that made it evident that to seem inattentive would be an +offence, he had theories which he would bring out in a startling way, +supporting them by quotations apparently very learned, and practically, +for the sort of audience he had, irrefutable: one was on the subject of +the ark, which he averred to be still buried in the eternal snows of Mount +Ararat, and discoverable by any one with will and money to bring it to +light. As to the question of which of the disputed peaks was the Ararat of +the Bible he said nothing. This brilliant man had a passion for roses and +gardening in general, and his rectory garden was a wonder even among +clerical gardens, which, as a rule, are the most delightful and homelike +of all English gardens.</p> + +<p><a name="LORD_LEICESTERS_HOSPITAL_WARWICK" id="LORD_LEICESTERS_HOSPITAL_WARWICK"></a></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 328px;"> +<a href="images/img7.jpg"><img src="images/img7th.jpg" width="328" height="400" alt="LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL, WARWICK." title="LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL, WARWICK." /> +</a><span class="caption">LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL, WARWICK.</span> +</div> + +<p><a name="COVENTRY_GATEWAY" id="COVENTRY_GATEWAY"></a></p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 264px;"> +<a href="images/img8.jpg"><img src="images/img8th.jpg" width="264" height="400" alt="COVENTRY GATEWAY." title="COVENTRY GATEWAY." /> +</a><span class="caption">COVENTRY GATEWAY.</span> +</div> + +<p>One of Warwickshire's oldest towns and best-preserved specimens of +mediæval architecture is Coventry, famous for its legend of Lady Godiva, +still commemorated by an annual procession during the great Show Fair, +held the first Friday after Trinity Sunday and continued<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> for eight days. +From Warwick to Coventry is a drive of ten miles, past many villages whose +windows and chimneys form as many temptations to stop and linger, but +Coventry itself is so rich in these peculiarities that a walk through its +streets is a reward for one's hurry on the road. One would suppose, +according to the saying of a ready-witted lady, that the town must be by +this time full of a large and interesting society, since so many people +have been at various times "sent to Coventry." The origin of the saying, +as an equivalent for being tabooed (itself a term of savage origin and +later date), is reported to be the deserved unpopularity of the military +there about a century ago, when no respectable woman dared to be seen in +the streets with a soldier. This led to the place being considered by +regiments as an undesirable post, since they were shunned by the decent +part of the town's-people, and to be "sent to Coventry" became, in +consequence, a synonym for being "cut." There are, however, other +interpretations of the saying, and, though this sounds plausible, it may +be incorrect. The heart of the town, once the strong-hold of the "Red +Rose," is still very ancient, picturesque and sombre-looking, though the +suburbs have been widened, "improved" and modernized to suit present +requirements. The Coventry of our day depends for its prosperity on its +silk and ribbon trade, necessitating all the appliances of looms, furnaces +and dye-houses, which give employment to a population reaching nearly +forty thousand. The continuance of prosperous trade in most of the ancient +English boroughs is a very interesting feature in their history; and +though no doubt the picturesqueness of towns is increased or preserved by +their falling into the Pompeii stage and dwindling into loneliness or +decay, one cannot wish such to be their fate. Few English towns that have +been of any importance centuries ago have gone back, though some have +stood still; and if they have lost their social prestige, the spirit of +the times has gradually made the loss of less consequence in proportion as +the importance of trade and manufactures has increased. The ribbon trade +is indeed a new one, hardly two centuries old, but Coventry was the centre +of the old national woollen industry long before. Twenty years ago, the +silk trade having languished, the queen revived the fashion of broad +ribbons, and Coventry wares became for a while the rage, just as Honiton +lace and Norwich silk shawls did at other times, chiefly through the same +example of court patronage of native industries. St. Michael's, Trinity +and Christ churches furnish the three noted spires, the first one of the +highest and most beautiful in England, and the third the remains of a Gray +Friars' convent, to which a new church has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> been attached. Of the ancient +cathedral (Lichfield and Coventry conjointly formed one see) only a few +ruins remain, and the same is the case with the old walls with their +thirty-two towers and twelve gates. The old hospitals and schools have +fared better—witness Bond's Hospital at Bablake (once an adjacent hamlet, +but now within the city limits), commonly called Bablake Hospital, founded +by the mayor of Coventry in the latter part of Henry VII.'s reign for the +use of forty-five old men, with a revenue of ten hundred and fifty pounds; +Ford's Hospital for thirty-five old women, a building so beautiful in its +details that John Carter the archæologist declared that it "ought to be +kept in a case;" Hales' free school, where Dugdale, the famous antiquary +and the possessor of Merivale Hall, near Warwick, received the early part +of his education; and St. Mary's Hall, built by Henry VI. for the Trinity +guild on the site of an old hall now used as a public hall and for +town-council meetings. The buildings surround a courtyard, and are entered +by an arched gateway from the street; and, says Rimmer, it is hardly +possible in all the city architecture of England to find a more +interesting and fine apartment than the great hall. The private buildings +in the old part of the town are as noticeable in their way as the public +buildings; and as many owe their origin to the tradesmen of Coventry, +formerly a body well known for its wealth and importance, they form good +indications of the taste of the ancient "city fathers." In 1448 this body +equipped six hundred men, fully armed, for the royal service, and in 1459 +they were proud to receive the <i>Parliamentum Diabolicum</i> which Henry VI. +called together within shelter of their walls, and turned to the use of a +public prosecution against the beaten party of the White Rose: hence its +name. One of the private houses, at the corner of Hertford street, bears +on its upper part an effigy of the tailor, Peeping Tom, who, tradition +says, was struck dead for impertinently gazing at Countess Godiva on her +memorable ride through the town.</p> + +<p><a name="SPIRE_OF_ST_MICHAELS_COVENTRY" id="SPIRE_OF_ST_MICHAELS_COVENTRY"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 282px;"> +<a href="images/img9.jpg"><img src="images/img9th.jpg" width="282" height="400" alt="SPIRE OF ST. MICHAEL'S, COVENTRY." title="SPIRE OF ST. MICHAEL'S, COVENTRY." /> +</a><span class="caption">SPIRE OF ST. MICHAEL'S, COVENTRY.</span> +</div> + +<p>The great variety in the designs of windows and chimneys, and the +disregard of regularity or conventionality in their placing, are +characteristics which distinguish old English domestic architecture, as +also the lavish use of wood-carving on the outside as well as the inside +of dwellings. No Swiss chalet can match the vagaries in wood common to the +gable balconies of old houses, whether private or public: one beautiful +instance occurs, for example, in a butcher's stall and dwelling, the only +one left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> of a similar row in Hereford. Here, besides the ordinary +devices, all the emblems of a slaughter-house—axes, rings, ropes, etc., +and bulls' heads and horns—are elaborately reproduced over the doors and +balconies of the building, and the windows, each a projecting one, are +curiously wreathed and entwined. This ingeniousness in carving is a thing +unknown now, when even picture-frames are cast in moulds and present a +uniform and meaningless appearance, while as to house decoration the eye +wearies of the few paltry, often-repeated knobs or triangles which have +taken the place of the old individual carvings. The corn-market of +Coventry, the former Cross Cheaping, is another of the city's living +antiquities, as busy now as hundreds of years ago, when the magnificent +gilded cross still standing in James II.'s time, and whose regilding is +said to have used up fifteen thousand four hundred and three books of +gold, threw its shadow across the square. Even villages of a few hundred +inhabitants often possessed market-places architecturally worthy of +attention, and sometimes the covered market, open on all sides and formed +of pillars and pointed arches, supported a town-hall or rooms for public +purposes above. The crosses were by no means simply religious emblems: +though their presence aimed at reminding worldlings of religion and +investing common acts of life with a religious significance, their +purposes were mainly practical. Proclamations were read from the steps and +tolls collected from the market-people: again, they served for open-air +pulpits, and often as distributing-places for some "dole" or charity +bequeathed to the poor of the town. A fountain was sometimes attached to +them, and the covered market-crosses, of which a few remain (Beverly, +Malmesbury and Salisbury), were merely covered spaces, surmounted with a +cross, for country people to rest in in the heat or the rain, and were +generally the property of some religious house in the neighborhood. They +were usually octagonal and richly groined, and if small when considered as +a shelter, were yet generally sufficient for their purpose, as most of the +market-squares were full of covered stalls, with tents, awnings or +umbrellas, as they are to this day. The crosses were sometimes only an +eight-sided shaft ornamented with niches and surmounted by a crucifix, and +very often, of whatever shape they were, they were built <i>in memoriam</i> to +a dead relative by some rich merchant or landlord. As objects of beauty +they were unrivalled, and improved the look of a village-green as much as +that of a busy market.</p> + +<p><a name="STREET_IN_COVENTRY" id="STREET_IN_COVENTRY"></a></p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 266px;"> +<a href="images/img10.jpg"><img src="images/img10th.jpg" width="266" height="400" alt="STREET IN COVENTRY." title="STREET IN COVENTRY." /> +</a><span class="caption">STREET IN COVENTRY.</span> +</div> + +<p>But Coventry, as I have said before, is a growing as well as an ancient +city; and when places grow they must rival their neighbors in pleasure as +well as in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> business, which accounts for the yearly races, now established +nearly forty years, and each year growing more popular and successful. No +doubt the share of gentlemen's houses which falls to the lot of every +county-town in England has something to do with the brilliancy of these +local gatherings: every one in the neighborhood makes it a point to +patronize the local gayeties, to belong to the local military, to enter +horses, to give prizes, to attend balls; and if politics are never quite +forgotten, especially since the suffrage has been extended and the number +of voters to be conciliated so suddenly increased, this only adds to the +outer bustle and success of these social "field-days." Coventry has a +pretty flourishing watchmaking trade, besides its staple one of +ribbon-weaving; and indeed the whole county, villages included, is given +up to manufacture: the places round Warwick and Coventry to a great extent +share in the silk trade, while Alcester has a needle manufacture of its +own, Atherstone a hat manufacture, and Amworth, which is partly in +Staffordshire, was famous until lately for calico-printing and making +superfine narrow woollen cloths: it also has flax-mills. The kings of +Mercia used to keep state here, and the Roman road, Watling Street, passed +through it, with which contrast now the iron roads that pass every place +of the least importance, and in this neighborhood lead to the busy centre +of the hardware trade, smoky, wide-awake, turbulent, educated, hard-headed +Birmingham. This, too, is within the "King-maker's" county, and how oddly +it has inherited or picked up his power will be noted by those familiar +with the political and parliamentary history of England within the last +forty years; but, though now an ultra-Radical constituency, it is no +historical upstart, but can trace its name in Domesday Book, where it +appears as <i>Bermengeham</i>, and can find its record as an English Damascus +in the fifteenth century, before which it had been already famous for +leather-tanning. The death, a year ago, of one of the most gifted though +retiring men of the English nobility, the late Lord Lyttleton, makes it +worth mentioning that his house, Hagley, stands twelve miles from +Birmingham, and that both his house and his forefathers were well known as +the home and patrons of literary men: Thomson, Pope and other poets have +described and apostrophized Hagley. The late owner was a good antiquary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> +and writer, but in society he was painfully shy.</p> + +<p><a name="BABLAKES_HOSPITAL_COVENTRY" id="BABLAKES_HOSPITAL_COVENTRY"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 298px;"> +<a href="images/img11.jpg"><img src="images/img11th.jpg" width="298" height="400" alt="BABLAKE'S HOSPITAL, COVENTRY." title="BABLAKE'S HOSPITAL, COVENTRY." /> +</a><span class="caption">BABLAKE'S HOSPITAL, COVENTRY.</span> +</div> + +<p>The southern part of Warwickshire, adjoining Gloucestershire, or rather a +wedge of that shire advancing into Worcestershire, is the most rich, +agriculturally speaking, and besides its apple-orchards is famous for its +dairy and grazing systems, while the northern part, once a forest, is +still full of heaths, moors and woods. There is not much to say about its +farms, unless technically, nor the appearance of the farm-buildings, the +modern ones being generally of brick and more substantial than beautiful. +Country-seats have a likeness to each other, and a way of surrounding +themselves with the same kind of garden scenery, so that unless where the +whole face of Nature has some strongly-marked features, such as mountains +or moors, the houses of the local gentry do not impart a special +individuality to a neighborhood; but in a mild and blooming way one may +say that Warwickshire has a fair share of pretty country-houses and +attractive parsonages. Still, the beauty of the southern and midland +counties is altogether a beauty of detail and cultivation, of historical +association and architectural contrast; not that which in the north and +east depends much upon the beholder's sympathy with Nature unadorned—wild +stretches of seashore and pathless moors, mountain-defiles and wooded +tarns. Wales and Cornwall, again, have the stamp of a race whose +surroundings have taught them shrewdness and perseverance, and their +scenery is such that in many places, though the eye misses trees, it +hardly regrets them. In the midland counties, on the other hand, take the +trees away and the landscape would be scarcely beautiful at all, though +the land might be equally rich, undulating and productive. Half the +special beauty of England depends on her greenery, her hedges, her trees +and her gardens, in which the houses and cottages take the place of birds' +nests.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lady Blanche Murphy</span>.</p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="LITTLE_BOY_BLUE" id="LITTLE_BOY_BLUE"></a>LITTLE BOY BLUE.</h2></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Childish shepherd, sleeping<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Underneath the hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh would that I could whisper in your dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"The sheep astray!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Couldst thou not in Dreamland,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Pretty herdsman, pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With horn and crook lead gently to the fold<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thy sheep astray?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Alas for soft sweet slumber's<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Mistland gold and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er the hilltops shimmering spirits lead<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Our sheep astray!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Paul Pastnor</span>.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="THE_PARIS_EXPOSITION_OF_1878" id="THE_PARIS_EXPOSITION_OF_1878"></a>THE PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1878.</h2></div> + +<p class="center">II.—GENERAL EXHIBITS.</p> + + +<p>The exposition under one roof of products of every kind, natural and +cultivated, mechanical and artistic, has a certain impressiveness from the +wonderful extent and variety of the assemblage, but the effect is +confusing and oppressive. The Philadelphia plan of grouping the exhibits +in separate buildings was both more pleasant to the eye and more useful to +the student. There is no place in Paris, however, affording room for +isolated buildings of sufficient aggregate area, and the Bois de Boulogne, +though immediately outside the fortified enceinte, in much the same +position, relatively, that Fairmount Park holds to Philadelphia, was +probably held to be too remote.</p> + +<p><a name="GRAND_CUPOLA" id="GRAND_CUPOLA"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 272px;"> +<a href="images/img15.jpg"><img src="images/img15th.jpg" width="272" height="400" alt="GRAND CUPOLA AT ONE OF THE CHIEF ENTRANCES TO THE MAIN BUILDING." title="GRAND CUPOLA AT ONE OF THE CHIEF ENTRANCES TO THE MAIN BUILDING." /> +</a><span class="caption">GRAND CUPOLA AT ONE OF THE CHIEF ENTRANCES TO THE MAIN BUILDING.</span> +</div> + +<p>The Exposition building is too low to afford grand general views except in +the end-galleries, one of which, that toward the Seine, is occupied by +England and France, and the other, that toward the École Militaire, by +Holland and France. The four especially admirable situations for display +are under the domes at the four corners of the building, and these are +respectively occupied by the English colonies, the Dutch colonies, a +statue of Charlemagne and a trophy of French metallic work—notably, large +tubes for telescopes. The French,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> as most readers are aware, occupy one +half of the building, and foreigners the other, the two being divided, +except at the end-galleries, by a central court in which are the fine-art +pavilions.</p> + +<p>Transverse divisions separate the foreigners' sections from each other, +while longitudinal divisions extending throughout the length of the +building divide the various classes of exhibits subjectively. A person may +thus cross the building and view the exhibits of a country in the +different classes, or he may go lengthwise of the building and see what +the various nations have to show in a given class. No better plan could be +devised if they are all to be assembled under one roof. The same plan has +been tried before, especially in the great elliptical building at Vienna. +It is probable that the Philadelphia plan of isolated buildings may find +imitators in the future, and then this plan of national and subjective +arrangement may be carried out without the violent contrasts incident to +sandwiching the machine galleries between the alimentary and chemical +sections.</p> + +<p>All the exhibits are classed under nine general groups, which are—1. Fine +arts; 2. Liberal arts and education; 3. Furniture and accessories; 4. +Textile fabrics and clothing; 5. Mining industries and raw products; 6. +Machinery; 7. Alimentary products; 8. Agriculture; 9. Horticulture. The +first of these occupies the pavilions in the central court. The second and +following ones to the seventh occupy the galleries as one passes from the +central court to the exterior of the building; agricultural implements and +products are shown in spacious sheds outside the main building and within +the enclosing fence; animals are shown in a separate enclosure on the +esplanade of the Invalides. Horticulture finds a place in all the +intervals wherever there is a square yard of ground not necessary for +paths, and also on the two esplanades which divide the Palais du Champ de +Mars and the Palais Trocadéro from the river which flows between. The +subjective character of the longitudinal disposition cannot be rigorously +maintained, since nations that excel in one or another line of work or +culture are utterly deficient in others. China and Japan, for instance, +fill their galleries to overflowing with papeterie, furniture and +knickknacks, while their space in the machinery hall is principally +devoted to ceramics, a few rude implements and costumed figures.</p> + +<p>The English pavilion in the Galérie d'Iéna consists of four wooden +structures representing Oriental mosques and kiosques, painted red and +surmounted by numerous gilded domes of the bulbous shape so characteristic +of the Indian architecture. In the order of position, as approached from +the main central doorway, the first and third are Indian, the second +Ceylonese, and the fourth is devoted to the productions of Jamaica, +Guiana, Trinidad, Trinity Island, Lagos, Seychelles, Mauritius, the Strait +Settlements and Singapore. Their contents, without attempting an +enumeration, are rather of the useful than the ornamental, with the +exception of the furniture, carpets, dresses and tissues. The Lagos +collection has a number of native drums, with snake-skin heads on bodies +carved from the solid wood, and it has also a very curious lyre of eight +strings strained by as many elastic wooden rods fastened to a box which +forms the sounding-chamber. It is individually more curious than any shown +at the Centennial from the Gold Coast, but the collection from Africa as a +whole is not nearly so full nor so fine. Mauritius has agave fibre, sugar, +shells, coral and vanilla. The Seychelles have large tortoise-shells and +the famous <i>cocoa de mer</i>, the three-lobed cocoanut peculiar to the +island, and found on the coast of India thrown up by the sea. It received +its name from that circumstance long before its home was discovered, from +whence it had been carried by the south-east monsoons. Trinity Island +sends sugar, cacao and rum; Trinidad presents sugar, asphaltum, cocoawood +and leather; Guiana has native pottery and baskets, arrow-root, sugar and +coffee.</p> + +<p>The pavilion next to the one described has the collection sent by the +maharajah of Kashmir, consisting largely of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> carpets, shawls and dresses, +which look very warm in the summer weather. It shows, besides, some of the +gemmed and enamelled work and parcel-gilt ware for which that territory, +hidden away among the Himalayas, is so celebrated.</p> + +<p>Next, as we travel along the Galérie d'Iéna, is the Ceylonese building, of +the same ruddy brown, with gilded domes, and gay with dresses, tissues and +robes of fine woven stuff made in their primitive looms, which would seem +to be incapable of turning out such textures. The addition of blocks of +graphite, some curiously carved into the shape of elephants, and the more +prosaic agricultural productions, such as cotton, cinnamon, matting and +baskets, tone down the color and exhibit the fact that the English +possession has the mercantile side. Antlers of the Ceylon deer, tusks of +elephants and boars, contrast with the richness and the sobriety of the +other contents of the overflowing pavilion.</p> + +<p>Another Indian kiosque, and we are at the end of the row. This is filled +by the Indian committee, which also exposes its collection in twenty-nine +glass cases arranged about the hall in the vicinity of the pavilions.</p> + +<p><a name="THE_CHINESE_SECTION" id="THE_CHINESE_SECTION"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 276px;"> +<a href="images/img18.jpg"><img src="images/img18th.jpg" width="276" height="400" alt="THE CHINESE SECTION." title="THE CHINESE SECTION." /> +</a><span class="caption">THE CHINESE SECTION.</span> +</div> + +<p>The prince of Wales's collection of presents, received in his character of +heir-apparent of the empress of India, fills thirty-two glass cases, +besides six of textiles and robes. Any tolerably full account of them +would require a separate article. The interest of them culminates in the +arms. For variety, extent, gorgeousness and ethnological and artistic +value such a collection of Indian arms has never before been brought +together, not even in India;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> and it fairly defies description. No man was +so poor but that he could present the prince with a bow and arrow or spear +or sword or battle-axe, and in fact every one who was brought before the +prince gave him a weapon of some sort. The collection thus represents the +armorer's art in every province of India, from the rude spears of the +Nicobar Islanders to the costly damascened, chased and jewelled daggers, +swords, shields and matchlocks of Kashmir, Lahore, Gujerat, Cutch, +Hyderabad, Singapore and Ceylon. The highest interest centres upon two +swords, which are by no means the richest in their finish and settings. +One is the great sword of the famous Polygar Katabomma Naik, who defeated +the English early in the present century. It has a plain iron hilt, and +the etched blade has three holes near the point. The other is a waved +blade of splendid polish, its hilt heavily damascened with gold and its +guard closely set with diamonds and rubies. It is the sword of Savaji, the +founder of the Mahratta dominion in India. It has been sacredly guarded at +Kolhapur by two men with drawn swords for a period of two hundred years, +being a family and national heirloom, and an object of superstitious +reverence as the emblem of sovereignty. The delivery of it to the prince +of Wales was regarded as a transfer of political dominion, an admission +that the latent hopes of the Bhonsla family were now merged in loyalty to +the crown of England.</p> + +<p>The blades of the best weapons have been made for many ages of the +magnetic iron obtained twenty miles east of Nirmul, a few miles south of +the Shisla Hills, in a hornblende or schist formation. The magnetic iron +is melted with charcoal without any flux, and obtained at once in a +perfectly tough and malleable state. It is superior to any English or +Swedish iron. It is perhaps unnecessary to remind readers that the famous +blades of Damascus were forged from Indian steel. Some of the blades are +watered, others chased in half relief with hunting-scenes—some serrated, +others flamboyant. A very striking object is a suit of armor of the horny +scales of the Indian armadillo, ornamented with encrusted gold, turquoises +and garnets. Another suit is of Kashmir chain-armor almost as fine as +lace. Others have damascened breastplates, the gold wire being inserted in +undercut lines engraved in the steel, and incorporated therewith by +hammering. Five cases are filled with the matchlocks of various tribes and +nations—one with its barrel superbly damascened in gold with a +poppy-flower pattern, another with a stock carved in ivory, with +hunting-scenes in cameo. Enamelled and jewelled mountings are seen, with +all the fanciful profusion of ornament with which the semi-barbarian will +deck his favorite weapon. The splendor of Indian arms is largely due to +the lavish use of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and other precious stones, +mainly introduced for their effect in color, few of them being of great +value as gems. Stones with flaws, and others which are mere chips or +scales, are laid on like tinsel. Two cases are filled with gaudy trappings +and caparisons—horse and camel saddles with velvet and leather work, gold +embroidery and cut-cloth work (<i>appliqué</i>); an elephant howdah of silver; +chowries of yak tails with handles of sandal-wood, chased gold or carved +ivory; gold-embroidered holsters and elaborate whips which will hold no +more ornamentation than has been crowded upon them. The yak's-tail +chowries, or fly-brushes, and the fans of peacocks' feathers, are emblems +of royalty throughout the East.</p> + +<p>The metal ware of India, shown in eight of the glass cases—some of them +the prince's and others Lord Northbrook's—affords connoisseurs great +delight, and also arrests the attention of those who have simply a delight +in beautiful forms and colors, without technical knowledge. It might not, +perhaps, occur to the casual visitor that a Jeypore plate of <i>champlevé</i> +enamel represents the work of four years. In this process the pattern is +dug out of the metal and the recess filled with enamel, while in the +cheaper <i>cloisonné</i> the pattern is raised on the surface of the metal by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> +welding on strips or wire and filling in with enamel which is fused on to +the metal. A betel-leaf and perfume-service in the silver-gilt of Mysore +is accompanied by elaborately-chased goblets and rose-water sprinklers in +ruddy gold and parcel-gilt, the work of Kashmir and Lucknow. The ruddy +color is the taste of Kashmir and of Burmah, while a singular olive-brown +tint is peculiar to Scinde. Other cases have the repoussé-work of Madras, +Cutch, Lucknow, Dacca and Burmah. From Hyderabad in the Deccan is a +parcel-gilt vase, an example of pierced-work, the <i>opus interassile</i> of +the Romans. The chased parcel-gilt ware of Kashmir occupies three cases: +it is graven through the gold to the dead-white silver below, softening +the lustre of the gold to a pearly radiance. Somewhat similar in method is +the Mordarabad ware, in which tin soldered upon brass is cut through to +the lower metal, which gives a glow to the white surface. Sometimes the +engraving is filled with lac, after the manner of niello-work. Specimens +are also shown in Bidiri ware, in which a vessel made of an alloy of +copper, lead and tin, blackened by dipping in an acidulous solution, is +covered with designs in beaten silver. A writing-case of Jeypore enamel is +perhaps the most dainty device of the kind ever seen. It is shaped like an +Indian gondola, the stern of which is a peacock whose tail sweeps under +half the length of the boat, irradiating it with blue and green enamel. +The canopy of the ink-cup is colored with green and blue and ruby and +coral-red enamels laid on pure gold.</p> + +<p><a name="THE_INDIAN_COURT" id="THE_INDIAN_COURT"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/img22.jpg"><img src="images/img22th.jpg" width="400" height="128" alt="THE INDIAN COURT: THE PRINCE OF WALES EXHIBIT." title="THE INDIAN COURT: THE PRINCE OF WALES EXHIBIT." /> +</a><span class="caption">THE INDIAN COURT: THE PRINCE OF WALES EXHIBIT.</span> +</div> + +<p>To attempt to describe the jewelry for the person would extend to too +great a length the notice of this most remarkable and interesting exhibit, +which includes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> tiaras, aigrettes and pendent jewels for the forehead; +ear-rings, ear-chains and studs; nose-rings and studs; necklaces of +chains, pearls and gems; stomachers and tablets of gold studded with gems +or strung by chains of pearls and turquoises with solitaire or enamelled +pendants; armlets, bracelets, rings; bangles, anklets and toe-rings of +gold and all the jewels of the East. A Jeypore hair-comb shown in one of +the cases has a setting of emerald and ruby enamel on gold, surmounted by +a curved row of large pearls, all on a level and each tipped with a green +bead. Below is a row of small diamonds set among the green and red +enamelled gold leaves which support the pearls. Below these again is a row +of small pearls with an enamelled scroll-work set with diamonds between it +and a third row of pearls; below which is a continuous row of small +diamonds, forming the lower edge of the comb just above the gold teeth.</p> + +<p>England's colonies make a great show at the Exposition. The Canadian +pagoda, which occupies one of the domed apartments at the corners of the +Palais, rises from a base of forty feet square, and consists of a series +of stories of gradually-decreasing area, surrounded by balconies from +which extended views of the Salle d'Iéna and the foreign machinery gallery +are obtained. The pagoda itself is occupied by Canadian exhibits, but +around it are grouped specimens of the mineral and vegetable wealth and +manufacturing enterprise of Australia and the Cape of Good Hope. +Australia, which is a continent in itself, has become of so much +importance that it is no longer content with a single or with a collective +exhibit, and the various colonies make separate displays in another part +of the building. That around the Canadian trophy is but a contribution to +a general colonial collection near the focus of the British group, where +the union jack waves above the united family.</p> + +<p>In the Australian exhibits it is only fair to begin with New South Wales, +which is the oldest British colony on the island, and may be said to be +the mother of the others, as Victoria, Tasmania and Queensland have been +subdivided from time to time. It had a precarious political existence and +slow progress up to 1851, and the obloquy attaching to it as the penal +settlement of Botany Bay was not encouraging to a good class of settlers. +In 1851 the whole island of 3,000,000 square miles had but 300,000 +inhabitants, but the discovery of gold and the utilization of the land, +for sheep and wheat especially, have so far changed the aspect of affairs +that the aggregate of land under cultivation equals 3,500,000 acres, with +52,000,000 sheep, 6,700,000 cattle, 850,000 horses, 500,000 hogs, 2092 +miles of railway and 21,000 miles of telegraph.</p> + +<p>The collection from New South Wales contains a large exhibit of the +mineral, animal and vegetable productions of the land—auriferous quartz +and gold nuggets, tin ores and ingots, copper, coal, antimony and fossils. +New South Wales prides herself especially on the surpassing quality of her +wools and on the extent of her pastoral husbandry, the number of sheep +being 25,269,755 in 1876, of cattle over 3,000,000, and of horses 366,000. +The exportation of wool in 1876 was alone equal to $28,000,000. Then, +again, she shows gums, furs, stuffed marsupials, wools, textiles, wheat +and tobacco, also many books, photographs, maps and other evidences of the +intellectual life of the people.</p> + +<p>Victoria has so far progressed in riches and civilization that it has +turned its back upon the past, and shows principally its wheat, skins, +paraffine, wine, gold, antimony, lead, iron, tin, coal, timber, cloth and +a large range of productions which have little peculiar about them, but +are interesting in showing what a country of 88,198 square miles, with a +population of 224 persons in 1836, can attain to in forty years. It has +now 840,300 inhabitants, and exports over $56,000,000 annually. Its total +production of gold is about £200,000,000 sterling. Though one of the +smallest colonies on the mainland, it is about equal in population to +three-fourths of the sum of all the others, and its largest town, +Melbourne, with a population of 265,000, is said to be the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> ninth city of +the British world. Passing by the evidences of prosperity and +enterprise—which are, however, nothing but what ordinary retail houses +would show—we pause for a while at the excellent collection of native +tools and implements, and the weapons employed in war and the chase by the +aboriginal inhabitants—wooden spears of the grass tree, and, among many +others barbed for fishing and variously notched for war, one which does +not belong to Australia, but has evidently been brought from the +Philippines, and should not have been included. The same might be said of +several Fijian clubs and a Marquesas spear barbed with sharks' teeth, +which are well enough in their way, but not Victorian. The collection of +shields, clubs and boomerangs is good and is highly prized, as they are +becoming scarce in the colony, but the types prevail over the greater part +of the island continent, and no alarm need be felt about the speedy +extirpation of the natives when we think of Western Australia with 26,209 +inhabitants in a territory of 1,024,000 square miles, most of it fine +forest, and consequently fertile when subdued to the uses of civilization.</p> + +<p><a name="THE_CANADIAN_TROPHY" id="THE_CANADIAN_TROPHY"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 265px;"> +<a href="images/img25.jpg"><img src="images/img25th.jpg" width="265" height="400" alt="THE CANADIAN TROPHY." title="THE CANADIAN TROPHY." /> +</a><span class="caption">THE CANADIAN TROPHY.</span> +</div> + +<p>South Australia, with its 900,000 square miles of land, extending over +twenty-seven degrees of latitude from the Indian to the Southern Ocean, +and with a width of twelve degrees of longitude, is stated to be the +largest British colony, but has a population of only 225,000. The +appearance of the South Australian Court differs from the Victorian in the +greater predominance of raw materials and the smaller proportion of +manufactures. Copper in the ore as malachite, and in metal and +manufactured forms, is one of the principal features of the court. Emeu +eggs, of a greenish-blue color and handsomely mounted in silver as +goblets, vases and boxes, are the most peculiar: they formed quite a +striking feature at the Centennial. The resemblance of the climate to that +of California is indicated in the cultivation of wheat in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> immense fields, +which is cut by the header and threshed on the spot, also by the enormous +size of the French pears, which grow as large as upon our Pacific coast. +The olive also is becoming a staple, as in California, and the grape is +fully acclimated and makes a very alcoholic wine. The product in 1876 was +728,000 gallons.</p> + +<p>Western Australia is among the latest settled, and has a territory of 1280 +by 800 miles, of which the so-called "settled" district has an area about +the size of France, with 26,209 inhabitants. It can hardly be considered +to be crowded yet. Its mineral exhibits are lead, copper and tin ore; +silks, whalebone; skins, those of the numerous species of kangaroo and of +the dingo or native dog predominating. The woods are principally +eucalypti, as might be supposed, but endogenous trees are found toward the +north, and are shown. Corals and large tortoise-shells show also that the +land approaches the tropics. The collection of native implements includes +waddies and boomerangs, war- and fishing-spears, shields of several +kinds—including one almost peculiar to the Australians, made very narrow +and used for parrying rather than intercepting a missile. The netted bag +of chewed bulrush-root is similar to that shown at the Centennial, but the +dugong fishing-net, made by the natives of the north-west coast from the +spinifex plant, I have not before observed. Western Australia was not +represented at the Centennial.</p> + +<p>Queensland is the most recently established Australian colony, and +comprises the whole north-east corner—between a fourth and a fifth—of +the island. As it extends twelve degrees within the tropics, its +productions partake of a different character from those of the older +colonies, and sugar, corn and cotton are staples. The Tropic of Capricorn +crosses the middle of the province. The southern portion has 7,000,000 +sheep, but the exports of the gold, copper and tin mines exceed those of +the animal and vegetable industries. The colony has the finest series of +landscapes in the Exhibition, painted upon photographs, which may be +recollected by those who visited the Centennial. The cases contain +corals, shells—especially very fine ones of the <i>huitre +perlière—bêche-de-mer</i>, so great a favorite in China for stews; +dugong-hides, with the oil and soap made therefrom; silk, tobacco, manioc, +fossils, furs and wool.</p> + +<p>New Zealand has but a small show, but it is very peculiar. The Maoris are +a very fine race of men, both physically and intellectually, and have many +arts. The robes of New Zealand flax (<i>Phormium tenax</i>), and especially the +feather robes, evince their aptitude and taste. They are very expert +workers of wood, and their spears, canoes, feather-boxes and paddles are +elaborately carved, and frequently ornamented with grotesque faces with +eyes of shell. Their idols are peculiarly hideous, and have a remarkable +similarity in their postures and expression to those of British Columbia +in the National Museum at Washington.</p> + +<p>The section occupied by the Cape of Good Hope is somewhat larger than that +at the Centennial, but is perhaps hardly as interesting. The wars against +the Kaffirs, and the want of harmony between the Dutch settlers and the +dominant English race, have produced an uneasy feeling not compatible with +a general interest in so distant a matter as a European exposition. The +Cape, with its dependencies, has an area of 250,000 square miles and a +population of nearly 750,000. Prominent in the collection are the +elephants' tusks and horns of the numerous species of antelope, which are +found in greater variety in South Africa than in any other part of the +world. Horns of bles-boks, spring-boks, water-boks, rooi-boks, koodoos, +elands, hartebeests and gnus ornament the walls, in company with those of +the native buffalo and the wide-reaching horns of the Cape oxen, of which +fourteen or sixteen yoke are sometimes hitched to the ponderous Dutch +wagons. Hippopotamus-teeth and ostrich-feathers indicate clearly enough +the section we are in. Maize has been fully acclimated in Africa, and mush +and milk now form the principal food of the whole Kaffir nation. It has +spread nearly all over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> Africa, but some central portions yet depend +entirely for farinaceous food upon the seed of the sorghum and dourra. On +the Zambesi corn in all stages of growth may be seen at all seasons of the +year.</p> + +<p>The United States section, after all its troubles in getting under +weigh—the very appropriation itself not having been made until after the +English exhibit had all been selected, arranged on the plan and the +catalogue printed—is a collection to be proud of. The arrangement is +good, except for a little crowding. The space in the Palais is forty +thousand square feet, with thirty thousand additional in an outside +building. The latter has the agricultural implements, mills, scales, +wagons and engines, with the displays of oak and hickory in the forms of +wheels, spokes and tool-handles, which are exciting so much interest in +Europe at the present time. There is no good substitute for hickory to be +found in Europe, and it is the difference between American hickory and +English ash which causes the great disparity between the proportions of +American and English carriage-wheels. That we should copy the latter for +the sake of a fashion is marvellous.</p> + +<p>It is not to be denied that the ingenuity and versatility of Americans +have caused them to excel other nations in many lines of manufacture. The +public opinion of Europe regards their triumphs in agricultural implements +as the most remarkable; but the nation which made the machine-tools for +the government manufactories of small-arms both of England and Germany has +established its right to the first rank in that class of work also. The +system of making by rule and gauge the separate parts, which are afterward +fitted, has come to be known as the "American system," and is exemplified +in the magnificent collection of the American Watch Company of Waltham; +the Wheeler & Wilson sewing-machine, which is the only sewing-machine with +interchangeable parts at the Exposition; the Remington rifle and shot-gun, +and the Colt revolvers.</p> + +<p><a name="INDIANS_MAKING_KASHMIR_SHAWLS" id="INDIANS_MAKING_KASHMIR_SHAWLS"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 289px;"> +<a href="images/img28.jpg"><img src="images/img28th.jpg" width="289" height="400" alt="INDIANS MAKING KASHMIR SHAWLS." title="INDIANS MAKING KASHMIR SHAWLS." /> +</a><span class="caption">INDIANS MAKING KASHMIR SHAWLS.</span> +</div> + +<p>There is nothing in the building in better taste in its line than the +Tiffany gold and silver ware, and the carriages of Brewster are generally +admired. Carriages are, however, such a matter of fashion that an exhibit +of that kind cannot suit all nations, and what one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> considers graceful is +to another strange and bizarre. There is no question of the fine quality, +however: of course a nation with elm for hubs and ash for spokes wonders +at American temerity in making wheels so light, and the casual observer +thinks our roads must be better than the European to justify them. As one +English builder has, however, contracted lately with an American firm for +five hundred sets of wheels, they will have an opportunity soon of testing +the quality of our woods.</p> + +<p>The exhibition of fine locks and of house-furnishing hardware is justly +considered as among our triumphs, the Yale, Wheeler-Mallory and Russell & +Erwin manufacturing companies being notable in this line. The saws of +Disston have no equals here: the axes of Collins & Douglas, the forks and +spades and other agricultural tools of Ames, Batcheller and the Auburn +Manufacturing Company are unapproached by the English and French. The +wood-working machine of Fay & Co. and the machine-tools of Darling Browne +& Sharpe challenge competition.</p> + +<p>These are not a tithe of the objects in regard to which we are proud to +have comparisons instituted; and in some of the less ponderous articles, +such as Foley's gold pens and White's dental tools and dentures, we have +the same reason for national gratulation. Such being the case, we feel +reconciled to the comparative smallness of our space, which has precluded +as much repetition in most lines of manufacture as we find in the exhibits +of other nations.</p> + +<p>Our agricultural machinery is well though not fully represented. Reapers +and mowers, horse-rakes, grain-drills and ploughs are abundantly or +sufficiently shown—harrows and rollers not at all; and if they had been, +they would have added nothing to the English and French knowledge on the +subject. Owing to the exigences of space, weighing-scales and pumps are +included in the agricultural building, and the exhibition of Fairbanks & +Co. deserves and receives cordial approval.</p> + +<p>The problem of the day in agricultural machinery is the automatic binder, +and eight efforts in that line are shown at the Exposition—six from +America and two from England. The subject of machinery, however, is +deferred for the present, but in speaking of general exhibits one cannot +avoid a slight reference to that feature which is so prominent in the +United States section.</p> + +<p>Where there is so much that is beautiful and admirably arranged it seems +ungenerous to cite failures, but the pavilion in the eastern corner of the +Palais and the Salle de l'École Militaire connecting it with the pavilion +of the Netherlands colonies are very disappointing. The French exhibit of +sheet-metal work in the eastern corner is quite remarkable, but its merit +in an industrial point of view scarcely authorizes the prominence that is +given to it in one of the four grand positions for display which the +building affords. Even the Galéries d'Iéna and de l'École Militaire across +the ends of the building, although their ceilings are high and gorgeous +with color, and their sides one mass of windows in blue and white panes, +do not afford such striking positions as the four corner pavilions. One +expected, very naturally, that so admirable a position would be made the +most of by a people of fine artistic sense; and this has been done in two +of the other similar situations by the Netherlands colonies' trophy and +the Canadian pagoda. The Charlemagne statue, which occupies the fourth +pavilion, has so much sheet-metal work around it that it is not worthy to +be classed with these. In the sheet-metal pavilion we see admirable +exploitation of sheet brass, copper and iron in the shape of +telescope-tubes, worms for stills, bodies and coils for boilers, +vacuum-pans, wort-refrigerators and various bent and contorted forms which +evince the excellence of the material and of the methods. This is hardly +enough, however, to justify the occupation of the position of vantage, and +the trumpery collection of ropes, lines, nets, rods and hooks which is +intended for a fishing exhibit only emphasizes the decision, acquiesced in +by the public, which pays it no attention.</p> + +<p>The same is true—in not quite so great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> a degree, however—of the Galérie +de l'École Militaire, which is principally devoted to, and very +inefficiently occupied by, a number of stands at which cheap jewelry, +meerschaum pipes, glass-blown ships, ivory boxes and paper-knives, +artificial flowers and stamped cards are made and sold as souvenirs of the +Exposition. In addition to these, and several grades better, are a couple +of Lahore shawlmakers, dusky Asiatics, engaged with native loom and needle +in making the shawls for which India is celebrated. Then we have a +jacquard loom worked by manual power, and the large embroidering-machine +of Lemaire of Naude, and the diamond-workers of Amsterdam working in a +glazed room which affords an excellent opportunity of seeing them without +subjecting them to the annoyance of meddlesome visitors.</p> + +<p>As if for contrast, the Galérie d'Iéna at the other end of the building is +replete with the most gorgeous productions of India and France. One half +of it is occupied by the Indian collection of the prince of Wales and the +exhibits of the East and West Indian colonies of Great Britain, just +described—the other half by a pavilion, the recesses of which show the +Gobelin tapestries, while the richest productions of Sèvres are placed in +profusion around it and occupy pedestals and niches wherever they could be +properly placed. The combined effect of the individual richness of the +things themselves and their lavish profusion constitutes this gallery the +gem of the Exhibition. As if the thousands of gems on the gold and silver +vessels and richly-mounted weapons and shields of the prince of Wales's +collection were not rich enough, a kiosque has been erected in which the +state jewels of France are displayed on velvet cushions, conspicuous among +them being the "Pitt Diamond," the history of which is too well known to +need repetition here.</p> + +<p>The models, plans and raised maps of the hydraulic works of Holland are +ever wonderful. They are principally the same that were exhibited in the +Main Building at the Centennial, but there are some additional ones. All +other drainage enterprises sink into insignificance beside those of +Holland. Since 1440 they have gradually extended until they include an +area of 223,062 acres drained by mechanical means. The drainage of the +Haarlem Meer (45,230 acres), which was the last large work completed, is +abundantly illustrated here, both as to the canalization and the engines, +the latter of which are among the largest in the world. The engines are +three in number, and the cylinders of the annular kind, the outer ones +twelve feet in diameter, and each engine lifting 66 tons of water at a +stroke: in emergencies each is capable of lifting 109 tons of water at a +stroke to a height of 10 feet at a cost of 2-1/4 pounds of coal per +horse-power per hour—much cheaper than oats: 75,000,000 pounds are raised +1 foot high by a bushel of coal. The next great work is the drainage of +the southern lobe of the Zuyder Zee, the plans for which have been made +and the work commenced. It is estimated that the mean depth is 13 feet, +and that by a multitude of engines the water may be removed at the rate of +1 foot of depth per annum. Some 800,000,000 tons were pumped out of the +Haarlem Meer, but that work will be dwarfed by the new enterprise.</p> + +<p>The Dutch system of mattresses, gabions, revetting and sea-walls have +furnished models for all the continents, the mouths of the Danube and the +Mississippi being prominent instances. The railway bridge over the Leek, +an arm of the Rhine, at Kuilinburg in Holland, is an iron truss, and the +principal span has the same length as the middle arch of the St. Louis +bridge—515 feet. It is shown here by models and plans.</p> + +<p>The largest and most instructive ethnological exhibit from any country at +the Exposition is that from the Netherlands colonies in the East and West +Indies. The Oriental forms by far the larger portion of it, and has an +imposing trophy in one of the four most advantageous positions in the +building. The base of the apartment is about one hundred and forty feet +square, and the domed ceiling at a height of one hundred and fifty feet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> +rises from a square tower whose sides are round-topped windows of blue and +white glass in chequerwork. These give full illumination and a gay +appearance to the spacious hall, in which the trophy rises to a height of +eighty feet. The pyramidal structure has an octagonal base of forty feet +diameter with inclined faces, from which rises a second octagonal portion +of smaller size. A series of steps above this is crowned with a conical +sheaf of palm-stems, whose fronds make an umbrella of twenty feet +diameter. The peak is a pinnacle of bamboos, with a Dutch flag pendent in +the still atmosphere of the hall. From each angle and side of the octagon +radiates a table, and these are lavishly covered with specimens of the +arts and manufactures of Java, Sumatra, Borneo, Celebes and other of the +Dutch colonial possessions in the Malay seas. Here are models of the +junks, proas and fishing-craft, each structure pegged together and +destitute of nails. The large mat sails depend from yards of bamboo; the +rudders are large oars, one over each counter; the decks are roofed with +bamboo, ratan and the inevitable nipa-palm leaves. The smaller craft, made +of hollow tree-trunks, have the double outrigger, and the finer ones have +shelters of bamboo and palm-leaf. The fishing-craft have large dip-nets +suspended from bamboo poles by cords, which allow them to be drawn up when +a passing school of fish is observed by a man perched above.</p> + +<p>On another table are models of the fishing-weirs and traps made of poles +which must be forty feet long in the originals, and are driven closely +alongside each other so as to enclose and detain the fish, which may enter +at the funnel-shaped mouth, whose divergent sides are presented up stream. +On the bamboo piles are the floors supporting the palm-leaf shelters of +the fishing family, and upon the various parts of the structure lie the +spears, rods and nets by which the fish are withdrawn from the inner pond, +which it is so easy to enter and so hard to escape from. Various forms of +weirs are shown, and a multitude of fish-baskets, whose conical entrances +obligingly expand to the curious fish, but only present points to him when +he seeks to return. Bamboo and ratan, whole or split, afford the materials +for all these baskets and cages.</p> + +<p>Other tables have the land-structures, from the elaborately-carved wooden +bungalow with tiled roof of the residency of Japara in Java to the bamboo +hut with palm-leaf sides and roofs of the maritime Dyaks of Borneo. Here +we have a bazaar of Banda, and there a hut of the indigenes of Buitzenzorg +in the interior of the fertile island of Java. Among the rudest houses +shown are those of Celebes, that curious island, larger than Britain, +which seems to rival the sea-monster, with its arms sprawling upon the +map. One house on stilts is fitted up with a complete equipment of musical +instruments, the wooden and brass harmonicons with bars or inverted pans +resting upon strings and beaten with mallets. Here also is a +weighing-machine for sugar products, the floor resting upon the shorter +beam of a lever, while the long arm extends far out of doors. +Rice-granaries elevated on posts above the predatory vermin are shown in +various forms, and are set in water-holes to guard against the still more +obnoxious ants, which are not content with the grain, but eat house and +all.</p> + +<p>Another table has implements of agriculture—ploughs, harrows, rakes, +carts, sleds, all as innocent of metal as the oxen which draw the various +instruments; wheels for irrigation made of bamboo, both frame and buckets; +various cutting, weeding and grubbing implements, made by a sort of rude +Catalan process from the native iron ore. The plough is a little better +than that of Egypt of three thousand years ago, and the sickle is +inferior. When Sir Stamford Raffles, who was governor during the short +control of Java by the British, asked why they used the little primitive +bent knife (<i>ana-ana</i>) which severs from the stalk but a few heads of rice +at a time, they answered that if they presumed to do otherwise their next +crop would be blasted.</p> + +<p>One of the tables, however, furnishes a grave disappointment. It is an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> +innocent-looking suspension bridge, the middle third of which is +supported by a series of piles and the floor roofed in with canes and +palm-leaves. It is a model of a bridge over the Boitang Toro, and one +expects to find it of the ratan which is of general use and grows two +hundred and fifty feet long; but no: it is of telegraph wire! So much for +the intrusion of modern devices when one is revelling in one of the most +interesting ethnological exhibits ever gathered. We have, however, but to +turn round to be consoled. Here is the roller cotton-gin, which was +doubtless used in India before the conquests of Alexander. Then we have +the spinning-wheel, which differs in no important respect from that of +England in the thirteenth century, and is similar to, but ruder than, that +used by our great-grandmothers, when "spinster" meant something, and a +girl brought to the home of her choice a goodly array of linen. This was +before cotton was king, and before factories were known either for cotton, +flax or wool. Was it a better day than the present, or no? Things work +round, and the roller-gin is now the better machine, having in the most +perfected processes supplanted the saw-gin. This may be news to some, but +will be admitted by those who have examined what the present Exposition +has to show. Here also is the bow for bowing the cotton, the original +cotton-opener and cleaner. We cannot, either, omit the reeling mechanism +for the thread nor the looms of simple construction, which can by no means +cost over a couple of dollars and yet make fine check stuffs, good cotton +ginghams. Perhaps we might allow another dollar for the reed with its six +hundred dents of split ratan.</p> + +<p><a name="TROPHY_IN_THE_COURT_OF_THE_DUTCH_INDIES" id="TROPHY_IN_THE_COURT_OF_THE_DUTCH_INDIES"></a></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 265px;"> +<a href="images/img35.jpg"><img src="images/img35th.jpg" width="265" height="400" alt="TROPHY IN THE COURT OF THE DUTCH INDIES." title="TROPHY IN THE COURT OF THE DUTCH INDIES." /> +</a><span class="caption">TROPHY IN THE COURT OF THE DUTCH INDIES.</span> +</div> + +<p>Curious and bizarre chintzes are shown in connection with the machinery, +and some doubtless made by the processes described by Pliny eighteen +hundred years ago. Other calicoes are made by at least two processes which +are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> comparatively modern in England, but certainly two thousand years old +in Asia. One is the direct application of a dye-charged stamp upon the +goods. Another is known by us as the <i>resist</i> process, and consists in +printing with a material which will exclude the dye; then putting the +goods in the dye-tub; subsequently washing out the resist-paste, when the +stamped pattern shows white on a colored ground. Some of the pieces of +calico make me suspect the <i>discharge</i> process also, in which a piece of +goods, having been dyed, is stamped in patterns with a material which has +the faculty of making the dye fugitive, when washing causes the pattern to +appear white on a colored ground.</p> + +<p>We have not quite done with these tables. There are two great resources of +a people besides work—love and war. "If music be the food of Love, play +on." But will playing on the instruments of Java and other islands of +those warm seas conduce to the object? The <i>gamelan</i>, or set of native +band instruments, has one stringed instrument, several flageolets, a +number of wood and metal harmonicons and inverted bronze bowls, all played +with mallets: there are also gongs of various sizes, bells and a drum. The +metal harmonicon is known in Javanese language as the <i>gambang</i>, and I +have no better name to propose. The leader's instrument is the +two-stringed fiddle (<i>rebab</i>), almost exactly the same as the Siamese +<i>sie-saw</i>, which is also admirably named. Among the <i>gambangs</i> at the +Exposition is a wooden harmonicon with twenty bars, and seven bronze +harmonicons with bars varying greatly in size and shape, and consequently +in tone, and in number from eight to twenty-one in an instrument. The +mallets also vary in weight. The <i>bonang</i> is an instrument with inverted +bronze bowls resting on ratans and struck with mallets. They are of +various sizes and thickness, and corresponding tone and quality, and are +arranged in sets of fourteen, two rows of seven each, on a low bench like +a settee. They vary in one from twenty to twenty-four centimètres in +diameter, and in the other from twenty-seven to thirty-two. They are +intended, doubtless, to agree with the chromatic scale of the island, but +are faulty on the fourth and seventh, as it seems to me, and yet, contrary +to Raffles, Lay and other writers, are not pentatonic, in which the fourth +and seventh are rejected altogether and no semi-tones are used. There is +no doubt that the pentatonic is the musical scale of all Malaysia, and +probably of all China; and none also that the diatonic, almost universal +in Europe, is the musical scale of portions of India. What conclusions of +ethnologic import may be drawn from this cannot here be more than +suggested, but the latter fact seems to bear upon the association of the +Hindoos with ourselves in the great Aryan family, Our <i>do, ré, mi, fa, +sol, la, si, do</i> correspond with the Hindoo <i>sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, dha, ni, +sa</i>, and the intervals are the same—two semi-tones, of which the +Malaysian is destitute. The Hindoos have also terms in their language for +the tonic, mediant and dominant, so that they know something of harmony, +of which the Malays seem quite ignorant.</p> + +<p>The flageolets from Java are all made on the principle of the boy's elder +whistle, but have finger-holes—generally six, but sometimes only four. +Two bamboo jewsharps—as I suppose I must call them—about a foot long, +and with a string to fasten to the ear, as it seems, are much like two +from Fiji in the Smithsonian. There are plenty of drums from Amboyna, +Timor and the islands adjacent. The most unpromising and curious of all, +however, is the <i>anklong</i> of Sumatra, which is all of bamboo, and has +neither finger-holes, keys, strings nor parchment. Three bamboo tubes, +closed below, are suspended vertically, so that studs at their lower ends +rattle in holes in a horizontal bamboo. This causes them to emit musical +sounds of a pitch proportioned to their length, as in an organ-pipe. The +respective lengths of the three tubes are as one, two and four, so that +the note of two is an octave graver than one, and that of four an octave +graver still. Thus, when they are shaken the sounds are in accord. Twelve<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> +similar sets of three each are suspended from a single bar, and their +lengths are so proportioned that they sound the musical scale—the three +in the first frame, we will say, sounding the tenor C, the middle C and +the C in the third space in the treble clef; the next set the +corresponding D's above, and so on. It really does not sound so badly as +one might suppose.</p> + +<p>Here is a table, conchological, entomological and ornithological, which +might stay us a while if we were making a catalogue. A conch-shell twenty +inches long and ten in diameter will do for a sample—not a small +gasteropod! They do not excel us so much in butterflies as I had expected, +but some of the beetles are fearful things—six inches long, and with +veritable arms on their heads each five inches long, with elbow-joint, +wrist and two claws on the end of a single finger. Next is a praying +mantis, a foot long and with double-jointed arms like the beetles,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That lifts his paws most parson-like, and thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By simple savages, through mere pretence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is reckoned quite a saint amongst the vermin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Other tables have weapons, shoes, table-furniture and knickknacks.</p> + +<p>After this environment we have small space for the trophy itself. It is +gorgeous with tiger and leopard skins, and with the weapons of the hill +and maritime tribes under the Dutch sway, and a profusion of the ruder +implements of the less accessible regions whose inhabitants only +occasionally show themselves in the settlements. We see in this most +interesting collection spoons and knives made from the leg-bones of +native buffaloes and of deer; wooden battleaxes with inserted blades of +jade; spears of bamboo and of cocoawood tip-hardened in the fire; arrows +of reed with poisoned wooden tips; swords of dark and heavy cocoawood; +shields of wood hewed with patient care from the solid log; wooden clubs; +water-jars of a single section of bamboo and holding twelve gallons; gourd +bottles, grass slippers, bark clothing, plaintain hats, cows'-tail plumes; +and a host more which may be omitted. On the various faces of the +structure and upon the steps are profusely arranged the various objects, +over which the canopy of palm gracefully towers.</p> + +<p>All that has been described occupies the central space beneath the dome. +Around it and occupying the corners are a thousand specimens of wood, +canes, fibres, seeds, gum, wax, resins, teas, hideous theatrical figures, +savage weapons, rich fabrics, filigrain jewelry and tea-services. Here +also are pigs of tin from regions famous for it twenty centuries ago, +blocks of native building stones, minerals, ores and agates. Here are +models of mining-works, smelting-sheds, sugar-houses, plans and maps.</p> + +<p>On one side, occupying a very modest space, are contributions from Guiana, +exemplifications of the habits, methods and productions of the +country—manioc-strainers and baskets, river-boats, animals, woods, +minerals, fruits and tobacco. Figures of a negro and negress of Paramaibo +propped against the counter seem utterly lost at the sights around.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Edward H. Knight.</span></p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="FOR_PERCIVAL" id="FOR_PERCIVAL"></a>"FOR PERCIVAL."</h2></div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> + +<p class="center">WALKING TO ST. SYLVESTER'S.</p> + +<p><a name="WALKING_TO_ST_SYLVESTERS" id="WALKING_TO_ST_SYLVESTERS"></a></p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 268px;"> +<a href="images/img40.jpg"><img src="images/img40th.jpg" width="268" height="400" alt="" title="" /></a> +</div> + +<p>Bertie Lisle was sorely driven and perplexed for a few days after his +triumphant performance on the organ. His letter was not a failure, but +further persuasion was required to make his success complete; and during +the brief interval he was persecuted by Gordon's brother.</p> + +<p>Mr. William Gordon, when amiable and flattering, had an air of rough and +hearty friendliness which was very well as long as you held him in check. +But when, though still amiable, he thought he might begin to take +liberties, it was not so well. He was hard, coarse-tongued and humorous. +And when Mr. William Gordon had the upper hand he showed himself in his +true colors, as a bully and a blackguard. Bertie Lisle, not yet +two-and-twenty, was no match for this man of thirty-five. He owed him +money—no great sum, but more than he could pay. Now that matters had come +to this pass, Lisle was heartily ashamed of himself, his debts and his +associates; but the more shame he felt the more anxious he was that +nothing should be known. He had sought the society of these men because he +had wearied of the restraints of his home-life. Judith checked and +controlled him unconsciously through her very guilelessness. He might have +had his liberty in a moment had he chosen, but the assertion of his right +would have involved explanations and questions, and Bertie hated scenes. +He found it easier to coax Lydia than to face Judith.</p> + +<p>But this state of affairs could not go on. Bertie had once fancied that he +saw a possible way out of his difficulties, and had hinted to Gordon, with +an air of mystery, that though he could not pay at once he thought he +might soon be in a position to pay all. If he hoped to silence his +creditors for a while with this vague promise, he was mistaken. Gordon +continually reminded him of it. He had not cared to inquire into the +source of the coming wealth, but if Lisle meant to rob somebody's till or +forge Mr. Clifton's name to a cheque, no doubt Gordon thought he might as +well do it and get it over. If you are going to take a plunge, what, in +the name of common sense, is the good of standing shivering on the brink?</p> + +<p>Unluckily, Lisle's idea presented difficulties on closer inspection. But +as he had gone so far that it was his only hope, he made up his mind to +risk all. He saw but one possible way of carrying out his scheme. It was +exactly the way which no cautious man would ever have dreamed of taking, +and therefore it suited the daring inexperience of the boy. Therefore, +also, it was precisely what no one would dream of guarding against. In +fact, Bertie was driven by stress of circumstances into a stroke of +genius. He took his leap, and entered on a period of suspense, anxiety and +sustained excitement which had a wild exhilaration and sense of +recklessness in it. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> suffered much from a strong desire to burst into +fits of unseasonable laughter. His nerves were so tensely strung that it +might have been expected he would be irritable; and so he was sometimes, +but never with Judith.</p> + +<p>Thorne listened night after night for the man with the latch-key, but he +listened in vain. He was only partly reassured, for he feared that matters +were not going on well at St. Sylvester's. Indeed, he knew they were not, +for Bertie had strolled into his room one day with a face like a +thundercloud. The young fellow was out of temper, and perhaps a little off +his guard in consequence. When Gordon amused himself by baiting him, Lisle +was forced to keep silence; but in this case it was possible, if not quite +prudent, to allow himself the relief of speech.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter?" said Percival, looking up from his book.</p> + +<p>Bertie, who had turned his back on him, stood looking out of the window +and tapping a tune on the pane. "What's the matter?" he repeated. "Clifton +has taken it into his stupid head to lecture me about some rubbish he has +heard somewhere. Why doesn't some one lock him up in an idiot asylum? The +meddling fool!"</p> + +<p>"If that is qualification enough—" Thorne began mildly, but Bertie raged +on:</p> + +<p>"What business is it of his? I'm not going to stand his impudence, as I'll +precious soon let him know. A likely story! He didn't buy me body and soul +for his paltry salary, though he seems to think it. The old humbug in a +cassock! It's a great deal of preaching and very little practice with him, +<i>I</i> know."</p> + +<p>(He knew nothing of the kind. Mr. Clifton was a well-meaning man, who had +never disturbed his mind by analyzing his own opinions nor any one else's, +and who worked conscientiously in his parish. But no doubt Bertie had too +much respect for truth to let it be mixed up with a fit of ill-temper.)</p> + +<p>"Take care what you are about," said Percival as he turned a leaf. He +looked absently at the next page. "I don't want to interfere with you—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>you!</i> that's different," said Lisle without looking round. "Not that +I should recommend even you—"</p> + +<p>"Don't finish: I hope the caution isn't needed. Of course you will do as +you think best. You are your own master, but I know you'll not forget that +it is a question of your sister's bread as well as your own. That's all. +If you can do better for her—"</p> + +<p>Bertie half smiled, but still he looked out of the window, and he did not +speak. Presently the fretful tapping on the pane ceased, and he began to +whistle the same tune very pleasantly. At last, after some time, the tune +stopped altogether. "I believe I'm a fool," said Lisle. "After all, what +harm can Clifton do to me? And, as you say, it would be a pity to make +Judith uneasy. Bless the stupid prig! he shall lecture me again to-morrow +if he likes. He hasn't broken any bones this time, and I dare say he won't +the next." The young fellow came lounging across the room with his hands +in his pockets as he spoke. "I suppose he has gone on preaching till it's +his second nature. Talk of the girl in the fairy-tale dropping toads and +things from her lips! Why, she was a trifle to old Clifton. I do think he +can't open his mouth without letting a sermon run out."</p> + +<p>Thorne was relieved at the turn Bertie's meditations had taken, but he +could not think that the young fellow's position at St. Sylvester's was +very secure. Neither did Judith. Neither did Bertie himself. The thought +did not trouble him, but Judith was evidently anxious.</p> + +<p>"You do too much," said Percival one day to her. They were walking to St. +Sylvester's, and Bertie had run back for some music which had been +forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Judith simply. "But it can't be helped."</p> + +<p>"What! are they all so busy at Standon Square?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the holidays, being so near, make more work, and give one the +strength to get through it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. I'm afraid Miss Crawford leaves too much to you, +and you will break down."</p> + +<p>"I'm more afraid Miss Crawford will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> break down. Poor old lady! it goes to +my heart to see her. She tries so hard not to see that she is past work; +and she is."</p> + +<p>"Is she so old? I didn't know—"</p> + +<p>"She was a governess till she was quite middle-aged, and then she had +contrived to scrape together enough to open this school. My mother was her +first pupil, and the best and dearest of all, she says. She had a terribly +up-hill time to begin with, and even now it is no very great success. +Though she might do very well, poor thing! if they would only let her +alone."</p> + +<p>"And who will not let her alone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is a swarm of hungry relations, who quarrel over every +half-penny she makes; and she is so good! But you can understand why she +is anxious not to think that her harvest-time is over."</p> + +<p>"Poor old lady!" said Percival. "And her strength is failing?"</p> + +<p>Judith nodded: "She does her best, but it makes my heart ache to see her. +She comes down in the morning trying to look so bright and young in a +smart cap and ribbons: I feel as if I could cry when I see that cap, and +her poor shaky hands going up to it to put it straight." There were tears +in the girl's voice as she spoke. "And her writing! It is always the bad +paper or the bad pen, or the day is darker than any day ever was before."</p> + +<p>"Does she believe all that?" the young man asked.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. I think she never has opened her eyes to the truth, but I +suspect she feels that she is keeping them shut. It is just that trying +not to see which is so pathetic, somehow. I find all manner of little +excuses for doing the writing, or whatever it may happen to be, instead of +her, and then I see her looking at me as if she half doubted me."</p> + +<p>"Does the school fall off at all?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure. Schools fluctuate, you know, and it seems they had scarlet +fever about six months ago. That might account for a slight decrease in +the numbers: don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Percival, with as much confidence as if +boarding-school statistics had been the one study of his life. "No doubt +of it."</p> + +<p>They walked a few paces in silence, and then Judith said, "Perhaps she +will be better after the holidays. I think she is very tired, she is so +terribly drowsy. She drops asleep directly she sits down, and is quite +sure she has been awake all the time. I'm so afraid the girls may take +advantage of it some day."</p> + +<p>"But even for Miss Crawford's sake you must not do too much," urged +Percival.</p> + +<p>"I will try not. But it is such a comfort to me to be able to help her! If +it were not for that, I sometimes question whether I did wisely in coming +here at all."</p> + +<p>"If it is not an impertinent question—though I rather think it is—what +should you have done if you had not come?"</p> + +<p>"I should have stayed with an aunt of mine. She wanted me, but she would +not help Bertie, and I fancied that I could be of use to him. But I doubt +if I can do him much good, and if I lost my situation I should only be a +burden to him."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that might do him more good than anything," Percival suggested. +"He might rise to the occasion and take life in earnest, which is just +what he wants, isn't it? For any one can see how fond he is of you."</p> + +<p>"He's a dear boy," Judith answered with a smile, and looked over her +shoulder. The dear boy was not in sight.</p> + +<p>"Plenty of time," said Percival. "But it is rather a long way for him, so +often as he has to go to St. Sylvester's."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't mind that. He says he can do it in less than ten minutes, only +to-day he had to go back, you see."</p> + +<p>"It isn't so far as it would be to St. Andrew's," Thorne went on. "By the +way, have you ever been to your parish church?"</p> + +<p>"Never. I don't think your description was very inviting."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it would be worth while to go once. The first time I went I +thought it was like a quaint, melancholy dream. Such a dim, hollow, dusty +old building,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> and little cherubs with grimy little marble faces looking +down from the walls. When the congregation began to shuffle in each +new-comer was more decrepit and withered than the last, till I looked to +see if they could really be coming through the doorway from the outer +world, or whether the vaults were open and they were the ghosts of some +dead-and-gone congregation of long ago. And when I looked round again, +there was the clergyman in a dingy surplice, as if he had risen like a +spectre in his place. He stared at us all with his dull old eyes, and +turned the leaves of a great book. And all at once he began to read, in a +piping voice so thin and weak that it sounded just like the echo of some +former service—as if it had been lost in the dusty corners, and was +coming back in a broken, fragmentary way. It was all the more like an echo +because the old clerk is very deaf, and he begins in a haphazard fashion +when he thinks it is time for the other to have done. So sometimes there +is a long pause, and then you have their two old voices mixed up together, +like an echo when it grows confused. It is very strange—gives one all +manner of quaint fancies. You should go once. Nothing could be more +utterly unlike St. Sylvester's."</p> + +<p>"I think I will go," said Judith. "I know a church something like that, +only not quite so dead. There is a queer old clerk there too."</p> + +<p>"Where is that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't anywhere near here. A little old-fashioned country +town—Rookleigh."</p> + +<p>Percival turned eagerly: "Where did you say? <i>Rookleigh</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why, do you know anything of it?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me what you know of it."</p> + +<p>"My aunt, Miss Lisle, lives there—the aunt I was telling you about, who +wanted me to stay with her."</p> + +<p>"And you were there last summer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. In fact, I was there on a visit when I heard that—that our home was +broken up. I stayed on for some time: I had nowhere to go."</p> + +<p>"Miss Lisle lives in a red house by the river-side," said Percival, +prompted by a sudden impulse.</p> + +<p>It was Judith's turn to look surprised: "Yes, she does. But, Mr. Thorne, +how do you know?"</p> + +<p>"The garden slopes to the water's edge," he went on, not heeding her. "And +there is a wide gravel-path down the middle, cutting it exactly in two. It +is all very neat—it is wonderfully neat—and Miss Lisle comes down the +path, looking right and left to see whether all the carnations and the +chrysanthemum-plants are tied up properly, and whether there are any +snails."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thorne, who told you—? No, you must have seen."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't walk with her. There was a cross-path behind some +evergreens."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Judith: "I hated to be seen then. I couldn't go beyond the +garden, and I used to walk backward and forward there, so many times to a +mile—I forget how many now. But, Mr. Thorne, tell me, how do you know all +this?"</p> + +<p>"It is simple enough," he said. "I was at Rookleigh one day, and I +strolled along the path by the river. You can see the house from the +farther side. I stood and looked at it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how did you know whose house it was?"</p> + +<p>"I hadn't the least idea. But it took my fancy—why I don't know. And +while I was looking I saw that some one came and went behind the +evergreens."</p> + +<p>"Then it was only a guess when you began to describe it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose so. It must have been, mustn't it?" he said, looking +curiously at her. "But it felt like a certainty."</p> + +<p>They were just at St. Sylvester's, and Bertie ran up panting, waving his +music. "Lucky I've not got to sing," said the young fellow in a jerky +voice, and rushed to the vestry-door, where Mr. Clifton fidgeted, watch in +hand. After such a race it was natural enough that the young organist +should be somewhat flushed as he went up the aisle with a surpliced boy at +his heels. But Judith<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> had not hurried—had rather lingered, looking back. +What was the meaning of that soft rosy glow upon her cheeks? And why was +Thorne so absent, standing up and sitting down mechanically, till the +service was half over before he knew it?</p> + +<p>He was recalling that day at Rookleigh—the red houses by the water-side, +the poplars, the pigeons, the old church, the sleepy streets, the hot blue +sky, the gray glitter of the river through the boughs, and the girl half +seen behind the evergreens. She had been to him like a fair faint figure +in a dream, and the airy fancies that clustered round her had been more +dreamy yet. But suddenly the dream-girl had stepped out of the clouds into +every-day life, and stood in flesh and blood beside him. And the nameless +fascination with which his imagination had played was revealed as the +selfsame attraction as that which his soul had known when, years before, +he first met Judith Lisle.</p> + + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> + +<p class="center">FAINT HEART WINS FAIR LADY.</p> + + +<p>Percival Thorne would have readily declared that it was a matter of utter +indifference to him whether his landlady went at the end of March to pay a +three weeks' visit to her eldest sister or whether she stayed at home. He +took very little notice when Mrs. Bryant told him of her intention. She +talked for some time. When she was gone Thorne found himself left with the +impression that the lady in question was a Mrs. Smith, who resided +somewhere in Bethnal Green; that some one was a plumber and glazier; that +some one had had the measles; that trade was not all one could wish, nor +were Mrs. Bryant's relations quite what they should have been, but that, +she thanked Goodness, they were not all alike. This struck him as a +reasonable cause for thankfulness, as otherwise there would certainly have +been a terrible monotony in the family circle. He also had an idea that +Mrs. Smith had received a great deal of good advice on the subject of her +marriage, and he rather thought that Smith was not the sort of man to +make a woman happy. "Either Smith isn't, or Bryant wasn't when he was +alive—now which was it?" smiled Percival to himself, ruffling his wavy +hair and leaning back in his chair with a confused sense of relief. And +then the dispute about the grandmother's crockery came in, and the uncle +who had a bit of money and married the widow at Margate. "I hope to +Goodness Mrs. Bryant will stay away some time if she has half as much to +say on her return!"</p> + +<p>The good woman had not gone into Mr. Thorne's room for the purpose of +giving him all this information. It had come naturally to her lips when +she found herself there, but she merely wished to suggest to him that +Lydia would be busy while she was away, and money-matters were terribly +muddling, weren't they? and perhaps it would make it easier if Mr. +Thorne's bill stood over. Percival understood in a moment. The careworn +face, the confused manner, told him all. Lydia would probably waste the +money, and the old lady, though with perceptible hesitation, had decided +to trust him rather than her daughter. It was so. Lydia considered that +her mother was stingy, and that finery was indispensable while she was +husband-hunting.</p> + +<p>"You see, there'll be one less to feed, and it would only bother her; and +you've always been so regular with your money," said Mrs. Bryant +wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see, perfectly," Thorne replied. "I won't trouble Miss Bryant about +it. It shall be all ready for you when you come back, of course. A +pleasant journey to you!"</p> + +<p>The old lady went off, not without anxiety, but very favorably impressed +with Percival's lofty manner. And he thought no more about it. But the +time came when he wished that Mrs. Bryant had never thought of visiting +Mrs. Smith of Bethnal Green at all.</p> + +<p>Easter fell very late that year, far on in April, and it seemed to Judith +that the holidays would never come. At last, however, they were within a +week of the breaking-up day. It was Sunday, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> she could say to herself, +"Next Thursday I shall be free."</p> + +<p>Bertie and she had just breakfasted, and he was leaning in his favorite +attitude against the chimney-piece. She had taxed him with looking ill, +but he had smilingly declared that there was nothing amiss with him.</p> + +<p>"Do you sleep well, Bertie?" she asked wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well. Not very much last night, by the way. But you are whiter +than I am: look at yourself in the glass. Even if you deduct the green—"</p> + +<p>Judith gazed into the verdant depths. "I don't know how much to allow," +she said thoughtfully. "By the way, Bertie, I'm not going with you to St. +Sylvester's this morning."</p> + +<p>"All right!" said Bertie.</p> + +<p>"I have a fancy to go to St. Andrew's for once," said Judith, arranging +the ribbon at her throat as she spoke—"just for a change. You don't mind, +do you?"</p> + +<p>"Mind? no," said Bertie, but something in his voice caused her to look +round. He was as pale as death, grasping the chimney-piece with one hand +while the other was pressed upon his heart.</p> + +<p>"Bertie! You <i>are</i> ill! Lean on me." The little sofa was close by, and she +helped him to it and ran for eau de cologne. When she came back he was +lying with his head thrown back, white and still, yet looking more like +himself than in that first ghastly moment. Presently the blood came back +to cheek and lip, and he looked up and smiled. "You are better?" she said +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I'm better. I'm all right. Can't think what made me make such a +fool of myself."</p> + +<p>"No, don't get up: lie still a little longer," said Judith, standing over +him with the wicker flask in her hand. "Oh, how you frightened me!"</p> + +<p>"Don't pour any more of that stuff over me," he answered languidly. "You +must have expended quarts. I can feel little rivulets of it creep-creeping +at the roots of my hair."</p> + +<p>"But, Bertie, what was the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. It's all over now. My heart seemed to stop beating just +for a moment. I wonder if it did, really? Or should I have died? Do sit +down, Judith. You look as if you were going to faint too."</p> + +<p>She sat down by him. After a minute Bertie's slim, long fingers groped +restlessly, and she held them in a tender grasp. So for some time they +remained hand in hand. Judith watched him furtively as he lay with closed +eyes, his fair boyish face pressed on the dingy cushion, and a great +tenderness lighted her quiet glance. Suddenly, Bertie's eyes opened and +met hers. She answered his look of inquiry: "You are all I have, dear. We +two are alone, are we not? I must be anxious if you are ill."</p> + +<p>He pressed her hand, but he turned his face a little away, conscious at +the same moment of a flush of self-reproach and of a lurking smile. +"Don't!" he said. "I'm not ill. I'm all right now—never better. Isn't it +time for me to be off? I say, my dear girl, if you don't look sharp you'll +be late at St. Andrew's."</p> + +<p>"St. Andrew's!" she repeated scornfully. "<i>I</i> go to St. Andrew's <i>now</i>, +and think all the service through that my bad boy may be fainting at St. +Sylvester's! No, no: I shall go with you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Bertie, sitting up and running his fingers through his +hair by way of preparation for church. "I shall be glad, if you don't +mind."</p> + +<p>"That is," she went on, "if you are fit to go at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. I couldn't leave old Clifton in the lurch for anything short of +sudden death, and even then he'd feel himself ill used. Stay at home +because I felt faint? It would be as much as my place is worth," said +Bertie with a smile of which Judith could not understand the fine irony.</p> + +<p>"I'll go and get ready," she said. But she went to the door of Percival's +sitting-room and knocked.</p> + +<p>"Come in," he answered, and she opened it. He was stooping over his fire, +poker in hand. She paused on the threshold, and, after breaking a hard +lump of coal, he looked over his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> shoulder: "Miss Lisle! I beg your +pardon. I thought they had come for the breakfast things."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said, in a slightly disappointed tone. "You are not going to +church to-day." For Thorne was more picturesquely careless in his apparel +than is the wont of the British church-goer.</p> + +<p>A rapid change of mind enabled him to answer truthfully, "Yes, I am. I +ought to get ready, I suppose. Did you want me for anything, Miss Lisle?"</p> + +<p>"Were you going to St. Sylvester's, or not?"</p> + +<p>Percival had known by her tone that she wanted him to go to church. But he +did not know which church claimed his attendance, so he answered +cautiously, "Oh, I hardly know. I think I should like some one to make up +my mind for me. Are you going with your brother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Judith. "He isn't very well to-day. I was rather frightened by +his fainting just now."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll go with you," said Percival. "I'll be ready in two +minutes. Been fainting? Is he better now?"</p> + +<p>"Much better. Will you really?" And Judith vanished.</p> + +<p>Percival was perhaps a little longer than the time he had named, but he +soon came out in a very different character from that of the young man who +had lounged over his late breakfast in his shabby coat. He looked +anxiously at young Lisle as they started, but Bertie's appearance was +hardly such as to call for immediate alarm. He seemed well enough, +Percival thought, though perhaps a little excited. In truth, there was not +much amiss with him. He had got over the uneasy sense of self-reproach: +the sudden shock which had caused his dismay was past, and as he went his +way, solemnly escorted by his loving sister and his devoted friend, he was +suffering much more from suppressed laughter than from anything else. +Everything was a joke, and the narrowness of his escape that morning was a +greater joke than all. "By Jove! what a laugh we will have over it one of +these days!" thought Lisle as he put on his surplice.</p> + +<p>Loving eyes followed him as he went to his place, and his name was fondly +breathed in loving prayers.</p> + + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3> + +<p class="center">THE LAST MUSIC-LESSON.</p> + + +<p>On the Tuesday morning Bertie was late for breakfast, and came in yawning +rather ostentatiously. Judith protested good-humoredly: "Lie in bed late +<i>or</i> yawn, but you can't want to do both. Why, it is eleven hours since +you went up to bed!" This was perfectly true, but not so much to the point +as she supposed.</p> + +<p>Ever since the mysterious fainting-fit Judith had watched him with tender +anxiety, and it seemed to her that there was something strange in his +manner that morning. She did not know what it was, but had she held any +clew to his thoughts she would have perceived that Bertie was astonished +and bewildered. He looked as if a dream had suddenly become a reality, as +if a jest had turned into marvellous earnest. He smoked his pipe, leaning +by the open window, with a serious and almost awestruck expression in his +eyes. One might have fancied that he was transformed visibly to himself, +and was perplexed to find that the change was invisible to others. Judith +could not understand this quiet gravity.</p> + +<p>She came up to him and laid her hand caressingly on his shoulder. He did +not turn, but pointed with the stem of his pipe across the street. "Look!" +he said. "There's a bit of houseleek on those tiles. I never saw it till +to-day."</p> + +<p>"Nor I."</p> + +<p>"It looks green and pleasant," said Bertie in a gentle, meditative voice. +"I like it."</p> + +<p>"Our summer garden," Judith suggested.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if there's any houseleek on our roof?" he went on after a +moment.</p> + +<p>"We will hope so, for our neighbors' sake," said his sister. "It's a new +idea to me. I thought our roof was nothing but tiles and cats—principally +cats."</p> + +<p>Bertie smoked his pipe, and surveyed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> the houseleek as if it were a +newly-discovered star. Everything was strange and wonderful that morning. +Vague ideas floated in the atmosphere, half seen against the background of +common things. The mood, born of exceptional circumstances, was unique in +his life. Had it been habitual, there would have been hope of a new poet, +or, since his taste lay in the direction of wordless harmony, of a great +musician.</p> + +<p>"You won't be late at the square, Bertie dear?" said Judith.</p> + +<p>"No, I'll not be late," he answered absently. He felt that the pale gold +of the April sunlight was beautiful even in Bellevue street.</p> + +<p>"The last lesson," she said. Bertie, suddenly roused, looked round at her +with startled eyes. "What! had you forgotten that the girls go home +to-morrow?" cried Judith in great surprise. She had counted the days so +often.</p> + +<p>He laughed shortly and uneasily: "I suppose I had. Queer, wasn't it? Yes, +it's my last lesson, as you say. If I had only thought of it, I might have +composed a Lament, taught it to all my pupils, and charged a fancy price +for it in the bill."</p> + +<p>"That would have been very touching. A little tiresome to you perhaps, and +to Miss Crawford—"</p> + +<p>"Bless you! she's always asleep," said Bertie, knocking the ashes out of +his pipe and pocketing it. "I might teach them the Old Hundredth, one +after the other, all the morning through: she wouldn't know. So your work +ends to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite. The girls go to-morrow, but I have promised to be at the +square on Thursday. There's a good deal to be done, and I should like to +see Miss Crawford safely off in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Where's the old woman going?"</p> + +<p>"To Cromer for a few days. She lived there as a child, and loves it more +than any place in the world."</p> + +<p>"Does the poor old lady think she'll grow young again there?" said Bertie. +"Well, perhaps she will," he added after a pause. "At any rate, she may +forget that she has grown old."</p> + +<p>Punctually at the appointed hour the young music-master arrived in Standon +Square. It was for the last time, as Judith had said. Miss Crawford looked +older, and Miss Crawford's cap looked newer, than either had ever done +before. She put her weak little hand into Bertie's, and said some prim, +kindly words about the satisfaction his lessons had given, the progress +his pupils had made and the confidence she felt in his sister and himself. +As she spoke she was sure he was gratified, for the color mounted to his +face. Suddenly she stopped in the midst of her neatly-worded sentences. +"You are like your mother, Mr. Lisle," she said: "I never saw it so much +before." And she murmured something, half to herself, about her first +pupil, the dearest of them all. Bertie, for once in his life, was silent +and bashful.</p> + +<p>The old lady rang the bell, and requested that Miss Macdonald might be +told that it was time for her lesson and that Mr. Lisle had arrived. +During the brief interval that ensued the music-master looked furtively +round the room, as if he had never seen it before. It seemed to him almost +as if he looked at it with different eyes, and read Miss Crawford's life +in it. It was a prim, light-colored drawing-room, adorned with many +trifles which were interesting as indications of patience and curious in +point of taste. There was a great deal of worsted work, and still more of +crochet. Everything that could possibly stand on a mat stood on a mat, and +other mats lay disconsolately about, waiting as cabmen wait for a fare. +Every piece of furniture was carefully arranged with a view to supporting +the greatest possible number of anti-macassars. There were water-color +paintings on the walls, and bouquets of wax flowers bloomed gayly under +glass shades on every table. There were screens, cushions, pen-wipers. +Bertie calculated that Miss Crawford's drawing-room might yield several +quarts of beads. He had seen all these things many times, but they had +acquired a new meaning and interest that day.</p> + +<p>Miss Macdonald appeared, and Miss Crawford seated herself on a pink rose,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> +about the size of a Jersey cabbage, with two colossal buds, and rested her +tired back against a similar group. At the first notes of the piano her +watchful and smiling face relaxed and she nodded wearily in the +background. It did not matter much. The young master was grave, silent, +patient, conscientious. In fact, it did not matter at all. Having slept +through the earlier lessons, the schoolmistress might well sleep through +this. It was rather a pity that, instead of taking a placid and unbroken +rest on the sofa, she sat stiffly on a worked chair and started into +uneasy wakefulness between the lessons, dismissing one girl and sending +for the next with infinite politeness and propriety. At last she said, +"And will you have the kindness to tell Miss Nash?"</p> + +<p>Bertie sat turning over a piece of music till the sound of the opening +door told him that his pupil had arrived. Then he rose and looked in her +direction, but avoided her eyes.</p> + +<p>There was no school-girl slovenliness about Emmeline Nash. Her gray dress +was fresh and neat, a tiny bunch of spring flowers was fastened in it, a +ribbon of delicate blue was round her neck. As she came forward with a +slight flush on her cheek, her head carried defiantly and the sunlight +shining on her pale hair, Miss Crawford said to herself that really she +was a stylish girl, ladylike and pretty. Her schoolfellows declared that +Emmeline always went about with her mouth hanging open. But that day the +parted lips had an innocent expression of wonder and expectation.</p> + +<p>The lesson was begun in as business-like a fashion as the others. Perhaps +Emmeline regaled the young master with a few more false notes than usual, +but she was curiously intent on the page before her. Presently she stole a +glance over her shoulder at Miss Crawford. She was asleep. Emmeline played +a few bars mechanically, and then she turned to Bertie.</p> + +<p>The eyes which met her own had an anxious, tender, almost reverential, +expression. This slim fair girl had suddenly become a very wonderful +being to Lisle, and he touched her hand with delicate respect and looked +strangely at her pretty vacant face.</p> + +<p>Had there been the usual laughter lurking in his glance, Emmeline would +have giggled. Her nerves were tensely strung, and giggling was her sole +expression for a wide range of emotion. But his gravity astonished her so +much that she looked at the page before her again, and went on playing +with her mouth open.</p> + +<p>Toward the close of the lesson master and pupil exchanged a few whispered +words. "You may rely on me," said Bertie finally: "what did I promise this +morning?" He spoke cautiously, watching Miss Crawford. She moved in her +light slumber and uttered an inarticulate sound. The young people started +asunder and blushed a guilty red. Emmeline, with an unfounded assumption +of presence of mind, began to play a variation containing such loud and +agitated discords that further slumber must have been miraculous. But +Lisle interposed. "Gently," he said. "Let me show you how that should be +played." And he lulled the sleeper with the tenderest harmony.</p> + +<p>In due time the lesson came to an end. Miss Crawford presided over the +farewell, and regretted that it was really Miss Nash's last lesson, as +(though Mr. Lisle perhaps was not aware of it) she was not coming back to +Standon Square. Mr. Lisle in his turn expressed much regret, and said that +he should miss his pupil. "You must on no account forget to practise every +day," said the old lady, turning to Emmeline.—"Must she, Mr. Lisle?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Lisle hoped that Miss Nash would devote at least three hours every day +to her music. The falsehood was so audacious that he shuddered as he +uttered it. He made a ceremonious bow and fled.</p> + +<p><a name="SHE_WAS_ASLEEP" id="SHE_WAS_ASLEEP"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/img57.jpg"><img src="images/img57th.jpg" width="400" height="256" alt=""SHE WAS ASLEEP."—Page 426." title=""SHE WAS ASLEEP."" /> +</a><span class="caption">"SHE WAS ASLEEP."—Page <a href="#Page_426">426</a>.</span> +</div> + +<p>Going back to Bellevue street, he locked himself into his room and turned +out all his worldly goods. A little portmanteau was carefully packed with +a selection from them, and hidden away in a cupboard, and the rest were +laid by as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> nearly as possible in their accustomed order. Then he took out +his purse and examined its contents with dissatisfied eyes. "Can't get on +without the sinews of war," Bertie soliloquized. "I might manage with +double as much perhaps, but how shall I get it? Spoiling the Egyptians +would be the scriptural course of conduct I suppose, and I'm ready; but +where are the Egyptians? I won<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span>der if Judith keeps a hoard anywhere? Or +Lydia? Shall I go and ask her to lend me jewels of silver and jewels of +gold? Poor Lydia! I fear I could hardly find a plausible excuse for +borrowing the blue earrings. And I doubt they wouldn't help me much. No, I +must find some better plan than that."</p> + +<p>He was intensely excited: his flushed cheek and glittering eyes betrayed +it. But the feelings of the morning had worn off in the practical work of +packing and preparing for his flight. Perhaps it was as well they had, for +they could hardly have survived an interview with Lydia in the afternoon. +She was suspicious, and required coaxing to begin with.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter, Lydia?" said Lisle at last in his gentlest voice. +"You might do this for me."</p> + +<p>"You are always wanting something done for you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lydia! and I've been such a good boy lately!"</p> + +<p>"Too good by half," said Lydia.</p> + +<p>"And a month ago I was always too bad. How am I to hit your precise taste +in wickedness?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I ain't particular to a shade," said Lydia, "as you might know by my +helping you to deceive ma and your sister. But as to your goodness, I +don't believe in it: so there! Don't tell me! People don't give up all at +once, and go to bed at ten o'clock every night, and turn as good as all +that. It's my belief you mean to bolt. What have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>"Look here, Lydia, I've told you once, and I tell you again: I want a +holiday, and I'm off for two or three days by myself—can't be tied to my +sister's apron-string all my life. But I would rather not have any fuss +about it, so I shall just go quietly, and send her a line when I've +started. I want you to get that portmanteau off, so that I may pick it up +at the station to-morrow morning. I <i>did</i> think I might count on <i>you</i>," +said Bertie with heartrending pathos: delicately-shaded acting would have +been wasted on Miss Bryant. "You've always been as true as steel. But it +seems I was mistaken. Well, no matter. If my sister makes a scene about +my going away, it can't be helped. Perhaps I was wrong to keep my little +secrets from her and trust them to any one else."</p> + +<p>"I don't say that," Lydia replied. "P'raps others may do as well or better +by you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you all the same for your former kindness," Bertie continued in a +tone of gentle resignation, ignoring her remark. "Since you won't, there +is nothing more to be said."</p> + +<p>"What do you want to fly off in that fashion for?" said Lydia. "I'll see +about your portmanteau if this is all true—"</p> + +<p>Bertie assumed an insulted-gentleman air: it was extremely lofty: "Oh, if +you doubt me, Miss Bryant—"</p> + +<p>"Gracious me! You <i>are</i> touchy!" exclaimed poor Lydia in perplexity and +distress. "Only one word: you haven't been doing anything bad?"</p> + +<p>"On my honor—no," said Bertie haughtily.</p> + +<p>"And there's nothing wrong about the portmanteau?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, this is too much!" Lisle exclaimed. "I can't be cross-questioned in +this fashion—even by <i>you</i>." The careless parenthesis was not without +effect. "Wrong about it—no! But we'll leave the subject altogether, if +you please. I won't trouble you any further."</p> + +<p>It was evident to Lydia that he was offended. There was an angry light in +his eyes and his cheeks were flushed. "You <i>are</i> unkind," she said. "I'll +see about it for you; and you knew I would." She saw Bertie's handsome +face dimly through a mist of gathering tears.</p> + +<p>"Crying?" said Lisle. "Not for me, Lydia? I'm not worth it."</p> + +<p>"That I'll be bound you are not," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Then why do you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think we always measure our tears, and mind we don't give +over-weight," said Lydia scornfully. "Shouldn't cry much at that rate, I +expect. I do it because I'm a fool, if you particularly want to know."</p> + +<p>Lisle was wondering what style of answer would be suitable and harmless +when Mr. Fordham came up the stairs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> Lydia saw him, exclaimed, "Oh my +good gracious!" and vanished, while Bertie strolled into his room, +invoking blessings on the old man's head.</p> + +<p>That evening there was a choir-practice at St. Sylvester's. Mr. Clifton +was peculiarly tiresome, and the young organist replied with an air of +easy scorn, the more irritating that it was so good-humored. Had the +worthy incumbent been a shade less musical there would have been a quarrel +then and there. But how could he part with a man who played so splendidly? +Bertie received his instructions as to their next meeting with an unmoved +face. "It is so important now that Easter is so near," said the clergyman. +"Thursday evening, and you won't be late?"</p> + +<p>"Au revoir, then," said Lisle airily, "since we are to meet so soon." And +with a pleasant smile he went his way.</p> + +<p>When he got back he found Judith at home, looking worn and white. He was +tenderly reproachful. "I'm sure you want your tea," he said. "You should +not have thought about me." He waited on her, he busied himself about her +in a dozen little ways. He was bright, gay, affectionate. A faint color +flushed her face and a smile dawned on her lips. How could she fail to be +pleased and touched? How could she do otherwise than smile at this paragon +of young brothers? He talked of holiday schemes in a happy though rather +random fashion. He sang snatches of songs softly in his pleasant tenor +voice.</p> + +<p>"Bertie, our mother used to sing that," said Judith after one of them.</p> + +<p>"Did she?" He paused. "I don't remember."</p> + +<p>"No, you can't," she answered sorrowfully. "I wish you could."</p> + +<p>"I've only the faintest and most shadowy recollection—just a dim idea of +somebody," he replied. "But in my little childish troubles I always had +you. I don't think I wanted any one else."</p> + +<p>Judith took his hand in hers, and held it for a moment fondly clasped: +"You can't think how much I like to hear you say that."</p> + +<p>Lisle blushed, and was thankful for the dim light. "Do you know," he said +hurriedly, "I rather think I may have a chance of giving old Clifton +warning before long?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bertie! Where could you get anything else as good?"</p> + +<p>"Not five-and-twenty miles away." Bertie named a place which they had +passed on their journey to Brenthill. "Gordon of our choir told me of it +this evening. I think I shall run over to-morrow and make inquiries."</p> + +<p>"But why would it be so much better?"</p> + +<p>"There's a big grammar school and they have a chapel. I should be organist +there."</p> + +<p>"But do they pay more?" she persisted.</p> + +<p>"Hardly as much to the organist perhaps. But I could give lessons in the +school, Gordon tells me, and make no end of money so. Oh, it would be a +first-rate thing for me."</p> + +<p>"And for me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope you won't have to go on slaving for Miss Crawford. You must +come and keep house—" Bertie stopped abruptly. He could deceive on a +grand scale, but these small fibs, which came unexpectedly, confused him +and stuck in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Keep house for you? Is that all I am to do? Bertie, how rich do you hope +to be?"</p> + +<p>"Rich enough to keep you very soon," he answered gravely.</p> + +<p>"But does Mr. Gordon think you have a chance of this appointment?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" said Bertie. "I am fit for it." There was no arrogance in his +simple statement of the fact.</p> + +<p>"I know you are. All the same, I think I won't give up my situation till +we see how this new plan turns out. And I don't want to be idle."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want you to work," said Bertie. "You are killing yourself, +and you know it. Well, this is worth inquiring about at any rate, isn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it certainly is. It sounds very pleasant. But pray don't be rash: +don't give up what you have already until you quite see your way."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, but I think I do see it. I'll just take the 8.35 train to-morrow and +find out how the land lies. I can be back early in the afternoon."</p> + +<p>So the matter was settled. As they went off to bed Lisle casually remarked +that he had not seen Thorne that day: "Is he out, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>Miss Bryant was making her nightly examination of the premises. She +overheard the remark as she turned down the gas in the passage, and +informed them that when Mr. Thorne came in from the office he complained +of a headache, asked for a cup of tea and went early to bed. "Poor +fellow!" said Lisle.—"Good-night, Miss Bryant."</p> + +<p>Apparently, Percival's headache did not keep him in bed, for a light +gleamed dimly in his sitting-room late that Tuesday night.</p> + + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h3> + +<p class="center">A THUNDERBOLT IN STANDON SQUARE.</p> + + +<p>It was just one o'clock on the following Thursday, and Thorne was walking +from the office to Bellevue street. He had adopted a quicker and more +business-like pace than in old days, and came down the street with long +steps, his head high and an abstracted expression on his face. Suddenly he +stopped. "Miss Lisle!" he exclaimed. "Good God! What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>It was Judith, but so pale, with fear and horror looking so terribly out +of her eyes, that she was like a spectre of herself. She stopped short as +he had done, and gazed blankly at him.</p> + +<p>"Judith, what is it?" he repeated. "For God's sake, speak! What is the +matter?"</p> + +<p>He saw that she made a great effort to look like her usual self, and that +she partly succeeded. "I don't know," she answered. "Please come, Mr. +Thorne, but don't say anything to me yet. Not a word, please."</p> + +<p>In silence he offered her his arm. She took it, and they went on together. +Something in Judith Lisle always appealed with peculiar force to +Percival's loyalty. He piqued himself on not even looking inquiringly at +his companion as they walked, but he felt her hand quivering on his arm, +and his brain was busy with conjectures. "Bertie has been away the last +day or two," he said to himself. "Can she have heard any bad news of him? +But why is she so mysterious about it, for she is not the girl to make a +needless mystery?" When they reached Bellevue street she quitted his arm, +thanked him with a look and went up stairs. Percival followed her.</p> + +<p>She opened the door of her sitting-room and looked in. Then she turned to +the young man, who stood gravely in the background as if awaiting her +orders.</p> + +<p>"Will you come in?" she said. But when she thought he was about to speak +she made a quick sign with her hand: "Not yet, please."</p> + +<p>The cloth was laid, but some books and papers had been pushed to one end +of the table. Judith went to them and lifted them carefully, as if she +were looking for something. Then she went to the little side-table, then +to the chimney-piece, still seeking, while Thorne stood by the window +silently waiting.</p> + +<p>The search was evidently unavailing, and Judith rang the bell. During the +pause which ensued she rested her elbow on the back of Bertie's easy-chair +and covered her eyes with her hand. She was shaking from head to foot, but +when the door opened she stood up and tried to speak in her usual voice: +"Are there any letters by the second post for me, Emma?"</p> + +<p>The little maid looked wonderingly at Mr. Thorne and then at Miss Lisle: +"No, ma'am: I always bring 'em up."</p> + +<p>"I know you do, but I thought they might have been forgotten. Will you ask +Miss Bryant if she is quite sure none came for me this morning?"</p> + +<p>There was another silence while Emma went on her errand. She came back +with Miss Bryant's compliments, and no letters had come for Miss Lisle.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Judith. "That will do. I will ring when I want dinner +brought in."</p> + +<p>When they were left alone Percival<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> stepped forward. "What is it?" he +said. "You will tell me now."</p> + +<p>She answered with averted eyes: "You know that our school broke up +yesterday? Emmeline Nash went away by the nine-o'clock train, but she has +never gone home."</p> + +<p>"Has never gone home!" Percival repeated. "That is very strange. She must +have met with some accident." There was no answer. "It may not be anything +serious: surely, you are distressing yourself too much."</p> + +<p>Judith looked up into his face with questioning eyes.</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps it is some school-girl freak," Thorne went on. "Naturally, +Miss Crawford must be very anxious, but don't make up your mind to the +worst till you know for certain."</p> + +<p>Still that anxious questioning look, as if she would read his very soul. +Percival was startled and perplexed, and his eyes made no response. The +girl turned away with a faint cry of impatience and despair: "And I am his +own sister!"</p> + +<p>Percival stood for a moment thunder-struck. Then "Bertie?" he said.</p> + +<p>"But you did not think of him till I spoke," she answered passionately. +"It was my doing—mine!"</p> + +<p>"Where is Bertie?" Thorne asked the question with something of her fear in +his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I had that yesterday morning."</p> + +<p>He took a pencilled scrap of paper from her hand. Bertie had written, "I +find I cannot be back this afternoon, probably not till to-morrow. Don't +expect me till you see me, and don't be anxious about me. All right.—Your +H.L."</p> + +<p>"How did you get this?" he asked, turning it uneasily in his fingers.</p> + +<p>"A boy brought it from the station not half an hour after he went."</p> + +<p>Percival was silent. A sudden certainty had sprung up in his mind, and it +made any attempt at reassuring her little better than a lie. Yet he felt +as if his certainty were altogether unfounded. He could assign no reason +for it. The truth was, that Bertie himself was the reason, and Percival +knew him better than he had supposed.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Thorne," said Judith, "don't you hate me for what I've said? Surely +you must. Miss Crawford doesn't dream that Bertie has anything to do with +this. And you didn't, for I watched your eyes: you never would have +thought of him but for me. It is I, his own sister, who have hinted it. He +has nobody but me, and when his back is turned I accuse him of being so +base, so cruel, so mercenary, that—" She stopped and tried to steady her +voice. Suddenly she turned and pointed to the door: "And if he came in +there now, this minute—oh, Bertie, my Bertie, if you <i>would</i>!—if he +stood there now, I should have slandered him without a shadow of proof. +Oh, it is odious, horrible! The one in all the world who should have clung +to him and believed in him, and I have thought this of him! Say it is +horrible, unnatural—reproach me—leave me! Oh, my God! you can't."</p> + +<p>And in truth Percival stood mute and grave, holding the shred of paper in +his hand and making no sign through all the questioning pauses in her +words. But her last appeal roused him. "No," he said gently, "I can't +reproach you. If you are the first to think this, don't I know that you +will be the one to hope and pray when others give up?" He took her hands +in his: she suffered him to do what he would. "How should Miss Crawford +think of him?" he said. "Pray God we may be mistaken, and if Bertie comes +back can we not keep silence for ever?"</p> + +<p>"I could not look him in the face."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all," said Thorne. "Where did he say he was going? Tell me +everything. If you are calm and if we lose no time, we may unravel this +mystery and clear Bertie altogether before any harm is done. As you say, +there is no shadow of proof. Miss Nash may have gone away alone: +school-girls have silly fancies. Or perhaps some accident on the line—"</p> + +<p>"No," said Judith.</p> + +<p>"No? Are you sure? Sit down and tell me all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span></p> + +<p>She obeyed to the best of her ability. She told him what Bertie had said +about the situation he hoped to obtain, and what little she knew about +Emmeline's disappearance.</p> + +<p>Percival listened, with a face which grew more anxious with every word.</p> + +<p>This is what had actually happened that morning at Standon Square: Judith +was busy over Miss Crawford's accounts. She remembered so well the column +of figures, and the doubtful hieroglyphic which might be an 8, but was +quite as likely to be a 3. While she sat gazing at it and weighing +probabilities in her mind the housemaid appeared, with an urgent request +that she would go to Miss Crawford at once. Obeying the summons, she found +the old lady looking at an unopened letter which lay on the table before +her.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said the little schoolmistress, "look at this." There was a +tone of hurried anxiety in her voice, and she held it out with fingers +that trembled a little.</p> + +<p>It was directed in a gentleman's hand, neat and old-fashioned: "Miss +Emmeline Nash, care of Miss Crawford, Montague House, Standon Square, +Brenthill."</p> + +<p>Judith glanced eagerly at the envelope. For a moment she had feared that +it might be some folly of Bertie's addressed to one of the girls. But this +was no writing of his, and she breathed again. "To Emmeline," she said. +"From some one who did not know when you broke up. Did you want me to +direct it to be forwarded?"</p> + +<p>"Forwarded? where? Do you know who wrote that letter?" By this time Miss +Crawford's crisp ribbons were quivering like aspen-leaves.</p> + +<p>"No: who? Is there anything wrong about this correspondent of Emmeline's? +I thought you would forward it to her at home. Dear Miss Crawford, what is +the matter?"</p> + +<p>"That is Mr. Nash's writing. Oh, Judith, what does it mean? She went away +yesterday to his house, and he writes to her here!"</p> + +<p>The girl was taken aback for a moment, but her swift common sense came to +her aid: "It means that Mr. Nash has an untrustworthy servant who has +carried his master's letter in his pocket, and posted it a day too late +rather than own his carelessness. Some directions about Emmeline's +journey: open it and see."</p> + +<p>"Ah! possibly: I never thought of that," said Miss Crawford, feeling for +her glasses. "But," her fears returning in a moment, "I ought to have +heard from Emmeline."</p> + +<p>"When? She would hardly write the night she got there. You were sure not +to hear this morning: you know how she puts things off. The mid-day post +will be in directly: perhaps you'll hear then. Open the letter now and set +your mind at rest."</p> + +<p>The envelope was torn open. "Now, you'll see he wrote it on the 18th—Good +Heavens! it's dated yesterday!"</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Emmeline</span>: Since Miss Crawford wishes you to remain two +days longer for this lesson you talk of, I can have no possible objection, +but I wish you could have let me know a little sooner. You very +thoughtfully say you will not give me the trouble of writing if I grant +your request. I suppose it never occurred to you that by the time your +letter reached me every arrangement had been made for your arrival—a +greater trouble, which might have been avoided if you had written earlier. +Neither did you give me much choice in the matter.</p> + +<p>"But I will not find fault just when you are coming home. I took you at +your word when your letter arrived yesterday, and did not write. But +to-day it has occurred to me that after all you might like a line, and +that Miss Crawford would be glad to know that you will be met at the end +of your journey."</p> + +<p>Compliments to the schoolmistress followed, and the signature,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Henry Nash</span>."</p> + +<p>The two women read this epistle with intense anxiety. But while Miss +Crawford was painfully deciphering it, and had only realized the terrible +fact that Emmeline was lost, the girl's quicker brain had snatched its +meaning at a glance. She saw the cunning scheme<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span> to secure two days of +unsuspected liberty. Who had planned this? Who had so cleverly dissuaded +Mr. Nash from writing? And what had the brainless, sentimental school-girl +done with the time?</p> + +<p>"Where is she?" cried Miss Crawford, clinging feebly to Judith. "Oh, has +there been some accident?"</p> + +<p>"No accident," said Judith. "Do you not see that it was planned +beforehand? She never thought of staying till Friday."</p> + +<p>"No, never. Oh, my dear, I don't seem able to understand. Don't you think +perhaps my head will be clearer in a minute or two? Where can she be?"</p> + +<p>The poor old lady looked vaguely about, as if Miss Nash might be playing +hide-and-seek behind the furniture. Her face was veined and ghastly. She +hardly comprehended the blow which was falling upon her, but she shivered +hopelessly, and thought she should understand soon, and looked up at +Judith with a mute appeal in her dim eyes.</p> + +<p>"Where can she be?" The girl echoed Miss Crawford's words half to herself. +"What ought we to do?"</p> + +<p>"I can't think why she wrote and told them not to meet her on Wednesday," +said the old lady. "So timid as Emmeline always was, and she hated +travelling alone! Oh, Judith! Has she run away with some one?"</p> + +<p>A cold hand seemed to clutch Judith's heart, and her face was like marble. +Bertie! Oh no—no—no! Not her brother! This treachery could not be his +work. Yet "Bertie" flashed before her eyes as if the name were written in +letters of flame on Mr. Nash's open note, on the wall, the floor, the +ceiling. It swam in a fiery haze between Miss Crawford and herself.</p> + +<p>She stood with her hands tightly clasped and her lips compressed. It +seemed to her that if she relaxed the tension of her muscles for one +moment Bertie's name would force its way out in spite of her. And even in +that first dismay she was conscious that she had no ground for her belief +but an unreasoning instinct and the mere fact that Bertie was away.</p> + +<p>"Help me, Judith!" said Miss Crawford pitifully. She trembled as she +clung to the girl's shoulder. "I'm not so young as I used to be, you know. +I don't feel as if I could stand it. Oh, if only your mamma were here!"</p> + +<p>Judith answered with a sob. Miss Crawford's confession of old age went to +her heart. So did that pathetic cry, which was half longing for her who +had been so many years at rest, and half for Miss Crawford's own stronger +and brighter self of bygone days. She put her arm round the schoolmistress +and held up the shaking, unsubstantial little figure. "If Bertie has done +this, he has killed her," said the girl to herself, even while she +declared aloud, "I <i>will</i> help you, dear Miss Crawford. I will do all I +can. Don't be so unhappy: it may be better than we fear." But the last +words, instead of ringing clear and true, as consolation should, died +faintly on her lips.</p> + +<p>Something was done, however. Miss Crawford was put on the sofa and had a +glass of wine, while Judith sent a telegram in her name to Mr. Nash. But +the poor old lady could not rest for a moment. She pulled herself up by +the help of the back of the couch, and sitting there, with her ghastly +face surmounted by a crushed and woebegone cap, she went over the same old +questions and doubts and fears again and again. Judith answered her as +well as she could, and persuaded her to lie down once more. But in another +moment she was up again: "Judith, I want you! Come here—come quite +close!"</p> + +<p>"Here I am, dear Miss Crawford. What is it?"</p> + +<p>The old lady looked fixedly at the kneeling figure before her. "I've +nobody but you, my dear," she said. "You are a little like your mamma +sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Am I?" said Judith. "So much the better. Perhaps it will make you feel as +if I could help you."</p> + +<p>"You are not like her to-day. Your eyes are so sad and strange." Judith +tried to smile. "Your brother, Mr. Herbert, is more like her. I noticed it +when he was here last. She had just that bright, happy look."</p> + +<p>"I don't remember that," Judith<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> answered. (One recollected the +school-girl, and one the wife.)</p> + +<p>"And that sweet smile: Mr. Herbert has that too. One could see how good +she was. But I didn't mean to talk about that. There is something—I +sha'n't be easy till I have told some one."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, my dear," said Judith.</p> + +<p>The schoolmistress looked anxiously round: "I may be mistaken—I hope I +am—but do you know, dear, I doubt I'm not quite so wakeful as I ought to +be. You wouldn't notice it, of course, because it is when I am alone or as +good as alone. But sometimes—just now and then, you know—when I have +been with the girls while they took their lessons from the masters, the +time has seemed to go so very fast. I should really have thought they +hadn't drawn a line when the drawing-master has said, 'That will do for +to-day, young ladies,' and none of them seemed surprised. And once or +twice I really haven't been <i>quite</i> sure what they have been practising +with Mr. Herbert. But music is so very soothing, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Judith held her breath in terror. And yet would it not be better if that +horrible thought came to Miss Crawford too? If others attacked him his +sister might defend. Nevertheless, she drew a long sigh of relief when the +old lady went on, as if confessing a crime of far deeper dye: "And in +church—it isn't easy to keep awake sometimes, one has heard the service +so often, and the sermons seem so very much alike—suppose some +unprincipled young man—"</p> + +<p>"Dear Miss Crawford, no one can wonder if you are drowsy now and then. You +are always so busy it is only natural."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't right. And," with the quick tears gathering in her eyes, "I +ought to have owned it before. Only, I have tried so hard to keep awake!"</p> + +<p>"I know you have."</p> + +<p>Miss Crawford drew one of her hands from Judith's clasp to find her +handkerchief, and then laid her head on the girl's shoulder and sobbed. +"If it has happened so," she said—"if it has been my carelessness that +has done it, I shall never forgive myself. Never! For I can never say +that I didn't suspect myself of being unfit. It will break my heart. I +have been so proud to think that I had never failed any one who trusted +me. And now a poor motherless girl, who was to be my especial care, who +had no one but me to care for her—Oh, Judith, what has become of her?"</p> + +<p>There was silence for a minute. How could Judith answer her?</p> + +<p>"I can never say I didn't doubt myself; but it was only a doubt. And how +could I give up with so many depending on me?"</p> + +<p>"Wait till we know something more," Judith pleaded. "Wait till we hear +what Mr. Nash says in answer to your message. I am sure you have tried to +act for the best."</p> + +<p>"I shall never hold up my head again," said Miss Crawford, and laid it +feebly down as if she were tired out.</p> + +<p>The telegram came. Emmeline had not been heard of, and Mr. Nash would be +at Brenthill that afternoon.</p> + +<p>Judith searched the little room which the school-girl had occupied, but no +indication of her intention to fly was to be found. She dared not question +the servants before Mr. Nash's arrival. Secrecy might be important, and +there would be an end to all hope of secrecy if once suspicion were +aroused.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to do but to wait," she said, coming down to Miss +Crawford. "I think, if you don't mind, I'll go home for an hour or so."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no! don't go!"</p> + +<p>"I must," said Judith. "I shall not be long."</p> + +<p>"You will."</p> + +<p>"No. An hour and a half—two hours at the utmost."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I understand," said Miss Crawford. "You will never come back."</p> + +<p>"Never come back? I will promise you, if you like, that I will be here +again by half-past two—that is, if I go now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course I can't keep you: if you will go, you will. But I think it +is very cruel of you. You will leave me to face Mr. Nash alone."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will not," the girl replied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And, after all, it is not half so bad for you as for me. He can't blame +you. It will kill me, I think, but he can't say anything to you. Oh, +Judith, I'm only a stupid old woman, but I have meant to be kind to you."</p> + +<p>"No one could have been kinder," said Judith. "Miss Crawford, whatever +happens, believe me I am grateful."</p> + +<p>"Then you will stop—you will stop? He can't say anything to you, my +dear."</p> + +<p>Judith was cold with terror at the thought of what Mr. Nash might have to +say to her. At the same moment she was burning with anxiety to get to +Bellevue street and find some letter from Bertie. She freed her hands +gently, but firmly. Miss Crawford sank back in mute despair, as if she had +received her death-wound.</p> + +<p>"Listen to me," said Judith. "I <i>must</i> go, but I will come back. I would +swear it, only I don't quite know how people swear," she added with a +tremulous little laugh. "Dear Miss Crawford, you trusted mamma: as surely +as I am her daughter you may trust me. Won't you trust me, dear?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said the old lady. "But why must you go?"</p> + +<p>"I must, really."</p> + +<p>"It won't be so bad for you: he can't blame you," Miss Crawford +reiterated, drearily pleading. "Judith, no one ever had the heart to be so +cruel as you will be if you don't come back."</p> + +<p>"But I will," said Judith. She made her escape, and met Percival Thorne on +her way to Bellevue street.</p> + +<p>"And now what is to be done?" she asked, looking up at him when she had +told him all. "No letter—no sign of Bertie."</p> + +<p>Percival might not be very ready with expedients, but his calmness and +reserve gave an impression of greater resources than he actually +possessed. He hesitated while Judith spoke, but he did not show it. There +was a pause, during which he caught at an idea, and uttered it without a +trace of indecision. "I'll look up Gordon," he said, glancing at his +watch. "If Gordon told Bertie of this situation, he may be able to tell us +where a telegram would find him. Perhaps he may explain this mysterious +little note. If we can satisfactorily account for his absence, we shall +have nothing to say about Bertie, except to justify him if any one else +should bring his name into the affair. And you could do your best to help +Mr. Nash and Miss Crawford in their search."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but where will you find Mr. Gordon?"</p> + +<p>"He's a clerk at a factory in Hill street. I will go at once." And he +hurried off.</p> + +<p>Judith went to the window and looked after him with a despairing sense of +loneliness in her heart. The little maid asked her if the dinner should be +brought in, and she answered in a tone that she hoped was cheerful.</p> + +<p>Miss Bryant came in with a dish and set it on the table. She seldom helped +in this way, and Judith divined the motive. Conscious that she was +narrowly scanned, she tried to assume a careless air, and turned away so +that the light should not fall on her face. But Lydia said nothing. She +looked at Judith doubtfully, curiously, anxiously: her lips parted, but no +word came. Judith began to eat as if in defiance.</p> + +<p>Lydia hesitated on the threshold, and then went away. "Stuck-up thing!" +she exclaimed as soon as she was safe in the passage. "But what has he +been doing? Oh, I must and will know!"</p> + +<p>Percival returned before Judith's time had expired, and came into the room +with a grave face and eyes that would not meet hers.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she said.</p> + +<p>He turned away and studied a colored lithograph on the wall. "It wasn't +true," he said. "Gordon was at the last practicing, but he never said a +word about this organist's situation. In fact, Bertie left before the +choir separated."</p> + +<p>"Some one else might have told him," said Judith.</p> + +<p>There was a pause. "I fear not," said Percival, intently examining a very +blue church-spire in one corner of the picture. "In fact, Miss Lisle, I +don't see how any one could. There is no vacancy for an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> organist +there—no prospect of any vacancy. I ascertained that."</p> + +<p>Another pause, a much longer one. Percival had turned away from the +lithograph, but now he was looking at a threadbare place in the carpet as +thoughtfully as if he would have to pay for a new one. He touched it +lightly with his foot, and perceived that it would soon wear into a hole.</p> + +<p>"I must go back to Miss Crawford," said Judith suddenly. He bent his head +in silent acquiescence. "What am I to tell her?" She lifted a book from +the table, and laid it down again with a quivering hand. "Oh, it is too +cruel!" she said in a low voice. "No one could expect it of me. My own +brother!"</p> + +<p>"That's true. No one could expect it."</p> + +<p>"And yet—" said Judith. "Miss Crawford—Emmeline. Oh, Mr. Thorne, tell me +what I ought to do."</p> + +<p>"How can I? I don't know what to say. Why do you attempt to decide now? +You may safely leave it till the time comes."</p> + +<p>"Safely?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You will not do less than your duty."</p> + +<p>She hesitated, having a woman's craving for something to which she might +cling, something definite and settled. "It is not certain," she said at +last.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered. "Bertie has deceived you, but it may be for some +foolish scheme of his own. He may be guiltless of this: it is only a +suspicion still."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will go," said Judith again. "Oh, if only he had come home!"</p> + +<p>"There is a choir-practice to-night," said Percival. "If all is well he +will be back in time for that. They have no doubt of his coming. Why not +leave a note?"</p> + +<p>She took a sheet of paper and wrote on it—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dearest Brother</span>:" ("If he comes back he will be best and +dearest," she thought as she wrote. It had come to this, that it was +necessary to justify the loving words! "If he comes back, oh how shall I +ever atone to him?") "Come to me at once at Standon Square. Do not lose a +moment, I entreat you. "Yours always,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Judith</span>."</p> + +<p>She folded and addressed it, and laid it where he could not fail to see it +as he came in. Then, having put on her hat, she turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Let me walk with you," said Percival. Lydia met them on the stairs and +cast a look of scornful anger on Miss Lisle. "Much she cares!" the girl +muttered. "<i>He</i> doesn't come back, but she can go walking about with her +young man! Those two won't miss him much."</p> + +<p>Thorne saw his companion safely to Standon Square, and then went to the +office. He was late, a thing which had never happened before, and, though +he did his best to make up for lost time, he failed signally. His thoughts +wandered from his work to dwell on Judith Lisle, and, if truth be +confessed, on the dinner, which he had forgotten while with her. He was +tired and faint. The lines seemed to swim before his eyes, and he hardly +grasped the sense of what he wrote. Once he awoke from a reverie and found +himself staring blankly at an ink-spot on the dingy desk. The young clerk +on his right was watching him with a look of curiosity, in which there was +as much malevolence as his feeble features could express, and when Thorne +met his eyes he turned away with an unpleasant smile. It seemed as if six +o'clock would never come, but it struck at last, and Percival escaped and +made his way to Bellevue street.</p> + +<p class="center">[TO BE CONTINUED.]</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="UNWRITTEN_LITERATURE_OF_THE_CAUCASIAN_MOUNTAINEERS" id="UNWRITTEN_LITERATURE_OF_THE_CAUCASIAN_MOUNTAINEERS"></a>UNWRITTEN LITERATURE OF THE CAUCASIAN MOUNTAINEERS.</h2></div> + +<p class="center">TWO PAPERS.—I.</p> + + +<p>In the south-eastern corner of European Russia, between the Black Sea and +the Caspian, in about the latitude of New York City, there rises abruptly +from the dead level of the Tatar steppes a huge broken wall of snowy +alpine mountains which has been known to the world for more than two +thousand years as the great range of the Caucasus. It is in some respects +one of the most remarkable mountain-masses on the globe. Its peaks outrank +those of Switzerland both in height and in rugged grandeur of outline; its +glaciers, ice-falls and avalanches are second in extent and magnitude only +to those of the Himalayas: the diversity of its climates is only +paralleled by the diversity of the races which inhabit it; and its +history—beginning with the Argonautic expedition and ending with the +Russian conquest—is more romantic and eventful than that of any other +mountain-range in the world.</p> + +<p>Geographically, the Caucasus forms a boundary-line between South-eastern +Europe and Western Asia, but it is not simply a geographical boundary, +marked on the map with a red line and having no other existence: it is a +huge natural barrier seven hundred miles in length and ten thousand feet +in average height, across which, in the course of unnumbered centuries, +man has never been able to find more than two practicable passes, the +Gorge of Dariel and the Iron Gate of Derbend. Beginning at the Straits of +Kertch, opposite the Crimea on the Black Sea, the range trends in a +south-easterly direction across the whole Caucasian isthmus, terminating +on the coast of the Caspian near the half-Russian, half-Persian city of +Baku. Its entire length, measured along the crest of the central ridge, +does not probably exceed seven hundred miles, but for that distance it is +literally one unbroken wall of rock, never falling below eight thousand +feet, and rising in places to heights of sixteen and eighteen thousand, +crowned with glaciers and eternal snow. No other country which I have ever +seen presents in an equally limited area such diversities of climate, +scenery and vegetation as does the isthmus of the Caucasus. On the +northern side of its white jagged backbone lies the barren +wandering-ground of the Nogai Tatars—illimitable steppes, where for +hundreds of miles the weary eye sees in summer only a parched waste of dry +steppe-grass, and in winter an ocean of snow, dotted here and there by the +herds and the black tents of nomadic Mongols. But cross the range from +north to south and the whole face of Nature is changed. From a boundless +steppe you come suddenly into a series of shallow fertile valleys +blossoming with flowers, green with vine-tangled forests, sunny and warm +as the south of France. Sheltered by its rampart of mountains from the +cold northern winds, vegetation here assumes an almost tropical +luxuriance. Prunes, figs, olives and pomegranates grow almost without +cultivation in the open air; the magnificent forests of elm, oak, laurel, +Colchian poplar and walnut are festooned with blossoming vines; and in +autumn the sunny hillsides of Georgia and Mingrelia are fairly purple with +vineyards of ripening grapes. But climate is here only a question of +altitude. Out of these semi-tropical valleys you may climb in a few hours +to the limit of vegetable life, and eat your supper, if you feel so +disposed, on the slow-moving ice of a glacier.</p> + +<p>High up among the peaks of this great Caucasian range lives, and has lived +for centuries, one of the most interesting and remarkable peoples of +modern times—a people which is interesting and remarkable not only on +account of the indomitable bravery with which it defended its +mountain-home for two thousand years against all comers, but on account<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span> +of its originality, its peculiar social and political organization and its +innate intellectual capacity. I call it a "people" rather than a race, +because it comprises representatives of many races, and yet belongs, as a +whole, to none of them. It is a collection of miscellaneous elements. The +Caucasian range may be regarded for all ethnological purposes as a great +mountainous island in the sea of human history, and on that island now +live together the surviving Robinson Crusoes of a score of shipwrecked +states and nationalities, the fugitive mutineers of a hundred tribal +Bountys. Army after army has gone to pieces in the course of the last four +thousand years upon that Titanic reef; people after people has been driven +up into its wild ravines by successive waves of migration from the south +and east; band after band of deserters, fugitives and mutineers has sought +shelter there from the storms, perils and hardships of war. Almost every +nation in Europe has at one time or another crossed, passed by or dwelt +near this great Caucasian range, and each has contributed in turn its +quota to the heterogeneous population of the mountain-valleys. The +Indo-Germanic tribes as they migrated westward from Central Asia left +there a few wearied and dissatisfied stragglers; their number was +increased by deserters from the Greek and Roman armies of Alexander the +Great and Pompey; the Mongols under Tamerlane, as they marched through +Daghestan, added a few more; the Arabs who overran the country in the +eighth century established military colonies in the mountains, which +gradually blended with the previous inhabitants; European crusaders, +wandering back from the Holy Land, stopped there to rest, and never +resumed their journey; and finally, the oppressed and persecuted of all +the neighboring nations—Jews, Georgians, Armenians and Tatars—fled to +these rugged, inaccessible mountains as to a city of refuge where they +might live and worship their gods in peace. In course of time these +innumerable fragments of perhaps a hundred different tribes and +nationalities, united only by the bond of a common interest, blended into +one people and became known to their lowland neighbors as <i>Gortze</i>, or +"mountaineers." From a mere assemblage of stragglers, fugitives and +vagabonds they developed in the course of four or five hundred years into +a brave, hardy, self-reliant people, and as early as the eighth century +they had established in the mountains of Daghestan a large number of +so-called <i>volnea obshesve</i>, or "free societies," governed by elective +franchise, without any distinction of birth or rank. After this time they +were never conquered. Both the Turks and the Persians at different periods +held the nominal sovereignty of the country, but, so far as the +mountaineers were concerned, it was only nominal. Army after army was sent +against them, only to return broken and defeated, until at last among the +Persians it passed into a proverb, "If the shah becomes too proud, let him +make war on the mountaineers of the Caucasus." In 1801 these hitherto +unconquered highlanders came into conflict with the resistless power of +Russia, and after a desperate struggle of fifty-eight years they were +finally subdued and the Caucasus became a Russian province.</p> + +<p>At the present time the mountaineers as a class, from the Circassians of +the Black Sea coast to the Lesghians of the Caspian, may be roughly +described as a fierce, hardy, liberty-loving people, whose component +members have descended from ancestors of widely different origin, and are +separable into tribes or clans of very different outward appearance, but +nevertheless alike in all the characteristics which grow out of and depend +upon topographical environment. They number altogether about a million and +a half, and are settled in little isolated stone villages throughout the +whole extent of the range from the Black Sea to the Caspian at heights +varying from three to nine thousand feet. They maintain themselves chiefly +by pasturing sheep upon the mountains and cultivating a little wheat, +millet and Indian corn in the valleys; and before the Russian conquest +they were in the habit of eking out this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> scanty subsistence from time to +time by plundering raids into the rich neighboring lowlands of Kakhetia +and Georgia. In religion they are nearly all Mohammedans, the Arabs having +overrun the country and introduced the faith of Islam as early as the +eighth century. In the more remote and inaccessible parts of the Eastern +Caucasus there still remain a few isolated <i>aouls</i> ("villages") of +idolaters; in Daghestan there are four or five thousand Jews, who, +although they have lost their language and their national character, still +cling to their religion; and among the high peaks of Toochetia is settled +a tribe of Christians said to be the descendants of a band of mediæval +crusaders. But these are exceptions: ninety-nine one-hundredths of the +mountaineers are Mohammedans of the fiercest, most intolerant type.</p> + +<p>The languages and dialects spoken by the different tribes of this +heterogeneous population are more than thirty in number, two-thirds of +them being in the eastern end of the range, where the ethnological +diversity of the people is most marked. So circumscribed and clearly +defined are the limits of many of these languages that in some parts of +the Eastern Caucasus it is possible to ride through three or four +widely-different linguistic areas in a single day. Languages spoken by +only twelve or fifteen settlements are comparatively common; and in +South-western Daghestan there is an isolated village of less than fifty +houses—the aoul of Innookh—which has a dialect of its own not spoken or +understood, so far as has yet been ascertained, by any other portion of +the whole Caucasian population. None of these mountain-languages have ever +been written, but the early introduction of the Arabic supplied to a great +extent this deficiency. Almost every settlement has its <i>mullah</i> or +<i>kadi</i>, whose religious or judicial duties make it necessary for him to +know how to read and write the language of the Koran, and when called upon +to do so he acts for his fellow-townsmen in the capacity of amanuensis or +scribe. Since 1860 the eminent Russian philologist General Usler has +invented alphabets and compiled grammars for six of the principal +Caucasian languages, and the latter are now taught in all the government +schools established under the auspices of the Russian mountain +administration at Vladi Kavkaz, Timour Khan, Shoura and Groznoi.</p> + +<p>In government the Caucasian highlanders acknowledged previous to the +Russian conquest no general head, each separate tribe or community having +developed for itself such system of polity as was most in accordance with +the needs and temperament of its component members. These systems were of +almost all conceivable kinds, from the absolute hereditary monarchies of +the Arab khans to the free communities or simple republics of Southern +Daghestan. In the former the ruler could take the life of a subject with +impunity to gratify a mere caprice, while in the latter a subject who +considered himself aggrieved by a decision of the ruler could appeal to +the general assembly, which had power to annul the decree and even to +change the chief magistrate. Since the Russian conquest the mountaineers +have altered to some extent both their forms of government and their mode +of life. Blood-revenge and plundering raids into the valley of Georgia +have nearly ceased; tribal rulers in most parts of the mountains have +given place to Russian <i>ispravniks</i>; and the rude and archaic systems of +customary law which prevailed everywhere previous to 1860 are being slowly +supplanted by the less summary but juster processes of European +jurisprudence. Such, in rapid and general outline, are the past history +and the present condition of the Caucasian mountaineers.</p> + +<p>Of course, the life, customs and social organization of a people who +originated in the peculiar way which I have described, and who have lived +for centuries in almost complete isolation from all the rest of the world, +must present many strange and archaic features. In the secluded valleys of +the Eastern Caucasus the modern traveller may study a state of society +which existed in England before the Norman Conquest, and see in full +operation customs and legal observances which have been obsolete<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> +everywhere else in Europe for a thousand years. But it is to the +literature of these people rather than to their life or their customs that +I wish now particularly to call attention. I have said that they are +remarkable for originality and innate intellectual capacity, and I shall +endeavor to make good my assertion by presenting some specimens of their +songs, fables, riddles, proverbs, burlesques and popular tales. Living as +they do on the boundary-line between Europe and Asia, made up as they are +of many diverse races, Aryan, Turanian and Semitic, they inherit all the +traditionary lore of two continents, and hand down from generation to +generation the fanciful tales of the East mingled with the humorous +stories, the witty anecdotes and the practical proverbs of the West. You +may hear to-day in almost any Caucasian aoul didactic fables from the +Sanscrit of the <i>Hitopadesa</i>, anecdotes from the <i>Gulistan</i> of the Persian +poet Saadi, old jokes from the Grecian jest-book of Hierocles, and +humorous exaggerations which you would feel certain must have originated +west of the Mississippi River. I heard one night in a lonely +mountain-village in the Eastern Caucasus from the lips of a Daghestan +mountaineer a humorous story which had been told me less than a year +before by a student of the Western Reserve College at Hudson, Ohio, and +which I had supposed to be an invention of the mirth-loving sophomores of +that institution.</p> + +<p>But the literature which the Caucasian mountaineers have inherited, and +which they share with all the Semitic and Indo-European races, is not so +deserving of notice as the literature which they have themselves +invented—the stories, songs, anecdotes and burlesques which bear the +peculiar impress of their own character. I shall endeavor, therefore, in +giving specimens of Caucasian folk-lore, to confine myself to stories, +songs and proverbs which are peculiar to the mountaineers themselves, or +which have been worked over and modified to accord with Caucasian tastes +and standards. It will be seen that I use the word "literature" in the +widest possible sense, to include not only what is commonly called +folk-lore, but also oaths, greetings, speeches, prayers and all other +forms of mental expression which in anyway illustrate character.</p> + +<p>The translations which I shall give have all been made from the original +tongues through the Russian. Although I visited the Caucasus in 1870, and +rode hundreds of miles on horseback through its wild gloomy ravines, +familiarizing myself with the life and customs of its people, I did not +acquire any of the mountain-languages so that I could translate from them +directly; neither did I personally collect the proverbs, stories and songs +which I here present. I am indebted for most of them to General Usler, to +Prince Djordjadze—with whom I crossed Daghestan—and to the Russian +mountain administration at Tiflis. All that I have done is to translate +them from the Russian, and set them in order, with such comments and +explanatory notes as they seem to require and as my Caucasian experience +enables me to furnish.</p> + +<p>I will begin with Caucasian greetings and curses. The etiquette of +salutation in the Caucasus is extremely elaborate and ceremonious. It does +not by any means satisfy all the requirements of perfect courtesy to ask a +mountaineer how he is, or how his health is, or how he does. You must +inquire minutely into the details of his domestic economy, manifest the +liveliest interest in the growth of his crops and the welfare of his +sheep, and even express a cordial hope that his house is in a good state +of repair and his horses and cattle properly protected from any possible +inclemency of weather. Furthermore, you must always adapt your greeting to +time, place and circumstances, and be prepared to improvise a new, +graceful and appropriate salutation to meet any extraordinary exigence. In +the morning a mountaineer greets another with "May your morning be +bright!" to which the prompt rejoinder is, "And may a sunny day never pass +you by!" A guest he welcomes with "May your coming bring joy!" and the +guest replies, "May a blessing rest on your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> house!" To one about to +travel the appropriate greeting is, "May God make straight your road!" to +one returning from a journey, "May health and strength come back with +rest!" to a newly-married couple, "May you have sons like the father and +daughters like the mother!" and to one who has lost a friend, "May God +give you what he did not live to enjoy!" Among other salutations in +frequent use are, "May God make you glad!" "May your sheep be multiplied!" +"May you blossom like a garden!" "May your hearth-fire never be put out!" +and "May God give you the good that you expect not!"</p> + +<p>The curses of the Caucasus are as bitter and vindictive as its greetings +are courteous and kind-hearted. I have often heard it said by the Persians +and Tatars who live along the Lower Volga that there is no language to +swear in like the Russian; and I must admit that they illustrated and +proved their assertion when occasion offered in the most fluent and +incontrovertible manner; but I am convinced, after having heard the curses +of experts in all parts of the East, that for variety, ingenuity and force +the profanity of the Caucasian mountaineers is unsurpassed. They are by no +means satisfied with damning their adversary's soul after the vulgar +manner of the Anglo-Saxon, but invoke the direst calamities upon his body +also; as, for example, "May the flesh be stripped from your face!" "May +your heart take fire!" "May eagles drink your eyes!" "May your name be +written on a stone!" (<i>i.e.</i> a tombstone); "May the shadow of an owl fall +on your house!" (this, owing probably to the rarity of its occurrence, is +regarded as a fatal omen); "May your hearth-fire be put out!" "May you be +struck with a hot bullet!" "May your mother's milk come with shame!" "May +you be laid on a ladder!" (alluding to the Caucasian custom of using a +ladder as a bier); "May a black day come upon your house!" "May the earth +swallow you!" "May you stand before God with a blackened face!" "Break +through into hell!" (<i>i.e.</i> through the bridge of Al Sirat); "May you be +drowned in blood!" Besides these curses, all of which are uttered in +anger, the mountaineers have a number of milder imprecatory expressions +which they use merely to give additional force or emphasis to a statement. +A man, for instance, will exclaim to another, "Oh, may your mother die! +what a superb horse you have there!" or, "May I eat all your diseases if I +didn't pay twenty-five <i>abaz</i> for that <i>kinjal</i> ("dagger") in Tiflis!" The +curious expression, "May your mother die!" however malevolent it may sound +to Occidental ears, has in the Caucasus no offensive significance. It is a +mere rhetorical exclamation-point to express astonishment or to fortify a +dubious statement. The graphic curse, "May I eat all your diseases!" is +precisely analogous to the American boy's "I hope to die." Generally +speaking, the mountaineers use angry imprecations and personal abuse of +all kinds sparingly. Instead of standing and cursing one another like +enraged Billingsgate fish-women, they promptly cut the Gordian knot of +their misunderstanding with their long, double-edged daggers, and +presently one of them is carried away on a ladder. When, as a Caucasian +proverb asserts, "It is only a step from the bad word to the kinjal," even +an angry man is apt to think twice before he curses once.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to select from the proverbs of the Caucasian mountaineers, +numerous as they are, any which are certainly and peculiarly their own. +They inherit the proverbial philosophy of all the Aryan and Semitic races, +and for the most part merely repeat with slight variations the well-worn +saws of the English, the Germans, the Russians, the Arabs and the French. +I will give, however, a few specimens which I have not been able to find +in modern collections, and which are probably of native invention. It will +be noticed that they are all more remarkable for force and for a peculiar +grim, sardonic humor than for delicacy of wit or grace of expression. +Instead of neatly running a subject through with the keen flashing rapier +of a witty analogy, as a Spaniard would do, the Caucasian mountaineer +roughly knocks it down with the first proverbial club which comes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> +hand; and the knottier and more crooked the weapon the better pleased he +seems to be with the result. Whether the work in hand be the smiting of a +rock or the crushing of a butterfly, he swings high overhead the Hammer of +Thor. Compare, for example, the French and the Caucasian methods of +expressing the fact that the consequences of bad advice fall on the +advised and not on the adviser. The Frenchman is satisfied to simply state +the obvious truism that advisers are not payers, but the mountaineer, with +forcible and graphic imagery, declares that "He who instructs how to jump +does not tear his mouth, but he who jumps breaks his legs." Again: the +German has in his proverbial storehouse no more vivid illustration of the +wilfulness of luck than the saying that "A lucky man's hens lay eggs with +double yolks;" but this is altogether too common and natural a phenomenon +to satisfy the mountaineer's conception of the power of luck; so he coolly +knocks the subject flat with the audacious hyperbole, "A lucky man's horse +and mare both have colts." Fortune and misfortune present themselves to +the German mind as two buckets in a well; but to the Caucasian mountaineer +"Fortune is like a cock's tail on a windy day" (<i>i.e.,</i> first on one side +and then on the other). The Danes assert guardedly that "He loses least in +a quarrel who controls his tongue;" but the mountaineer cries out boldly +and emphatically, "Hold your tongue and you will save your head;" and in +order that the warning may not be forgotten, he inserts it as a sort of +proverbial chorus at the end of every paragraph in his oldest code of +written law. It is not often that a proverb rises to such dignity and +importance as to become part of the legal literature of a country; and the +fact that this proverb should have been chosen from a thousand others, and +repeated twenty or thirty times in a brief code of criminal law, is very +significant of the character of the people.</p> + +<p>Caucasian proverbs rarely deal with verbal abstractions, personified +virtues or vague intellectual generalizations. They present their ideas in +hard, sharp-edged crystals rather than in weak verbal solutions, and +their similes, metaphors and analogies are as distinct, clear-cut and +tangible as it is possible to make them. The German proverb, "He who +grasps too much lets much fall," would die a natural death in the Caucasus +in a week, because it defies what Tyndall calls "mental presentation:" it +is not pictorial enough; but let its spirit take on a Caucasian body, +introduce it to the world as "You can't hold two watermelons in one hand," +and it becomes immortal. Vivid imagery is perhaps the most marked +characteristic of Caucasian proverbs. Wit, wisdom and grace may all +occasionally be dispensed with, but pictorial effect, the possibility of +clear mental presentation, is a <i>sine qua non</i>. Aiming primarily at this, +the mountaineer says of an impudent man, "He has as much shame as an egg +has hair;" of a garrulous one, "He has no bone in his tongue" or "His +tongue is always wet;" of a spendthrift, "Water does not stand on a +hillside;" and of a noble family in reduced circumstances, "It is a +decayed rag, but it is silk." All these metaphors are clear, vivid and +forcible, and the list of such proverbs might be almost indefinitely +extended. With all their vividness of imagery, however, Caucasian sayings +are sometimes as mysterious and unintelligible as the darkest utterances +of the Delphian Oracle. Take, by way of illustration, the enigmatical +proverb, "He lets his hasty-pudding stand over night, hoping that it will +learn to talk." Only the rarest penetration would discover in this +seemingly absurd statement a satire upon the man who has a disagreeable +confession to make or an unpleasant message to deliver, and who puts it +off until to-morrow, hoping that the duty will then be easier of +performance. Again: what would a West European make of such a proverb as +the following: "If I had known that my father was going to die, I would +have traded him off for a cucumber"? Our English cousins, with their +characteristic adherence to facts as literally stated, would very likely +cite it as a shocking illustration of the filial irreverence and +ingratitude of Caucasian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> children; but an American, more accustomed to +the rough humor of grotesque statement, would see at once that it was not +to be "taken for cash," and would understand and appreciate its force when +he found its meaning to be that it is better to dispose of a perishable +article at half price than to lose it altogether—better to sell your +father for a cucumber than have him die on your hands.</p> + +<p>The cruel, cynical, revengeful side of the mountaineer's character finds +expression in the proverbs, "A cut-off head will never ache;" "Crush the +head, and the tail will die of itself;" "If you can't find a Lak [a member +of a generally-detested tribe], hammer the place where one sat;" "What +business has a blind man with a beautiful wife?" "The serpent never +forgets who cut off his tail, nor the father who killed his son." The +lights and shades of polygamous life appear in the sharply-contrasted +proverbs, "He who has two wives enjoys a perpetual honeymoon," and "He who +has two wives doesn't need cats and dogs;" the bad consequences of divided +responsibility are indicated by the proverb, "If there are too many +shepherds the sheep die;" and the value of a good shepherd is stated as +tersely and forcibly as it well could be in the declaration that "A good +shepherd will get cheese from a he-goat."</p> + +<p>Caucasian proverbs, however, are not all as rude, unpolished and grotesque +as most of those above quoted. Some of them are simple, noble and +dignified, the undistorted outcome of the higher and better traits of the +mountaineer's character. Among such are, "Dogs bark at the moon, but the +moon does not therefore fall upon the earth;" "Blind eyes are a +misfortune, but a blind heart is worse;" "He who weeps from the soul weeps +not tears, but blood;" "Generous words are often better than a generous +hand;" "A guest, a man from God;" and finally the really noble proverb, +"Heroism is patience for one moment more:" no words could better express +the steady courage, the unconquerable fortitude, the proud, silent +endurance of a true Caucasian Highlander. At all times and under all +circumstances, in pain, in peril and in the hour of death, he holds with +unshakable courage to his manhood and his purpose. Die he will, but yield +never. The desperate fifty years' struggle of the Caucasian mountaineers +with the bravest armies and ablest commanders of Russia is only a long, +blood-illuminated commentary upon this one proverb.</p> + +<p>In order that the reader may get a clear idea of the scope and general +character of Caucasian proverbial literature, I will give without further +comment a few selections from the current sayings of the Laks, the +Chechenses, the Abkhazians, the Koorintzes and the Avars: "Don't spit into +a well: you may have to drink out of it;" "A fish would talk if his mouth +were not full of water;" "Bread doesn't run after the belly, but the belly +after bread;" "A rich man wherever he goes finds a feast—a poor fellow, +although he goes to a feast, finds trouble;" "Stick to the old road and +your father's friends;" "Your body is pledged to pay for your sins;" +"Burial is the only medicine for the dead;" "Swift water never gets to the +sea;" "With good neighbors you can marry off even your blind daughter;" +"You can't get sugar out of every stone;" "Out of a hawk's nest comes a +hawk;" "A fat ox and a rotten shroud are good for nothing;" "There are +seven tastes as to a man's dress, but only one as to his stature" (<i>i.e.,</i> +his own); "A good head will find itself a hat;" "At the attack of the wolf +the ass shuts his eyes;" "If you are sweet to others, they will swallow +you—if bitter, they will spit you out;" "Go where you will, lift up any +stone and you will find a Lak under it;" "He is like a hen that wants to +lay an egg, and can't;" "He who is sated cannot understand the hungry;" "A +barking dog soon grows old;" "A quiet cat eats a big lump of fat;" "If +water bars your road, be a fish—if cliffs, a mountain-goat."</p> + +<p>Closely allied to Caucasian proverbs in spirit and in rough, grotesque +humor are Caucasian anecdotes, of which I have space for only a few +characteristic specimens. They are almost invariably short, terse and +pithy, and would prove, even<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> in the absence of all other evidence, that +these fierce, stern, unyielding mountaineers have the keenest possible +appreciation of humor, and that in the quick perception and hearty +enjoyment of pure absurdity they come nearer to Americans than do perhaps +any of the West European races. One of the following anecdotes, "The Big +Turnip," I have seen in American newspapers within a year, and all of them +bear a greater or less resemblance, both in spirit and form, to American +stories. I will begin with an anecdote of the mullah Nazr-Eddin, a +mythical, or at any rate an historically unknown, individual, whose +personality the mountaineers use as a sort of peg upon which to hang all +the floating jokes and absurd stories which they from time to time hear or +invent, just as Americans use the traditional Irishman to give a modern +stamp to a joke which perhaps is as old as the Pyramids. The mountaineers +originally borrowed this lay figure of Nazr-Eddin from the Turks, but they +have clothed it in an entirely new suit of blunders, witticisms and +absurdities of their own manufacture.</p> + +<p><i>Nazr-Eddin's Greetings.</i>—Nazr-Eddin once upon a time, while travelling, +came upon some people digging a grave. "May peace be with you!" said he as +he stopped before them, "and may the blessing of God be upon your labor!" +The gravediggers, enraged, seized shovels and picks and fell upon +Nazr-Eddin and began to beat him. "What have I done to you?" he asked in +affright: "what do you beat me for?"—"When you saw us," replied the +gravediggers, "you should have held up your arms and prayed for the +deceased."—"The instruction which you have given me I will remember," +said Nazr-Eddin, and went on his way. Presently he met a large company of +young people returning in great merriment from a wedding, dancing and +playing on drums and fifes. As he approached them he raised his hands +toward heaven and began to pray for the soul of the deceased. At this all +the young men fell upon him in great anger and gave him another awful +beating. "Can't you see," they cried, "that the prince's son has just +been married, and that this is the wedding-party? Under such +circumstances you should have put your hat under your arm and begun to +shout and dance."—"The next time I will remember," said Nazr-Eddin, and +went on. Suddenly and unexpectedly he came upon a hunter who was creeping +cautiously and silently up to a hare. Putting his hat under his arm, +Nazr-Eddin began to dance, jump and shout so furiously that of course the +hare was frightened away. The hunter, enraged at this interference, +pounded Nazr-Eddin with his gun until he could hardly walk. "What would +you have me do?" cried the mullah.—"Under such circumstances," replied +the hunter, "you should have taken off your hat and crept up cautiously, +now stooping down, now rising up."—"That I will remember," said +Nazr-Eddin, and went on. At a little distance he came upon a flock of +sheep, and, according to his last instructions, he crept cautiously up to +them, now stooping down out of sight, and then rising up, and so +frightened the sheep that they all ran away. Upon this the shepherds gave +him another tremendous beating. There was not a misfortune that did not +come upon Nazr-Eddin on account of his miserable blunders.</p> + +<p><i>The Kettle that Died.</i>—The mullah Nazr-Eddin once went to a neighbor to +borrow a kettle. In the course of a week he returned, bringing the large +kettle which he had borrowed, and another, a small one. "What is this?" +inquired the owner, pointing to the small kettle.—"Your kettle has given +birth," replied the mullah, "and that is its offspring." Without any +further question or explanation the owner took both kettles, and the +mullah returned to his home. In course of time the mullah again appeared, +and again borrowed his neighbor's kettle, which the latter gave him this +time with great readiness. A week passed, a month, two months, three +months, but no kettle; and at last the owner went to the mullah and asked +for it. "Your kettle is dead," said the mullah.—"Dead!" exclaimed the +owner: "do kettles die?"—"Certainly," replied the mullah. "If your kettle +could give birth, it could also<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span> die; and, what is more," he added, "it +died in giving birth." The owner, not wishing to make himself a +laughing-stock among the people, closed up the kettle business and left.</p> + +<p><i>The Big Turnip.</i>—Two men were once walking together and talking. One +said, "My father raised such an enormous turnip once that he used the top +of it to thresh wheat upon, and when it was ripe had to dig it out of the +ground."—"My father," said the other, "ordered such an enormous kettle +made once that the forty workmen who made it all had room to sit on the +inside and work at the same time; and they were a year in finishing +it."—"Yes," said the first, "but what did your father want such a big +kettle for?"—"Probably to boil your father's turnip in," was the reply.</p> + +<p><i>Nazr-Eddin's One-Legged Goose.</i>—The mullah Nazr-Eddin was once carrying +to the khan as a gift a roasted goose. Becoming hungry on the road, he +pulled off one of the goose's legs and ate it. "Where is the other leg?" +inquired the khan when the goose was presented.—"Our geese have only one +leg," answered the mullah.—"How so?" demanded the khan.—"If you don't +believe it, look there," said the mullah, pointing to a flock of geese +which had just come out of the water, and were all standing on one leg. +The khan threw a stick at them and they all ran away. "There!" exclaimed +the khan, "they all have two legs."—"That's not surprising," said the +mullah: "if somebody should throw such a club as that at you, you might +get four legs." The khan gave the mullah a new coat and sent him home.</p> + +<p><i>Why Blind Men should Carry Lanterns at Night.</i>—A blind man in Khoota (an +East Caucasian village) came back from the river one night bringing a +pitcher of water and carrying in one hand a lighted lantern. Some one, +meeting him, said, "You're blind: it's all the same to you whether it's +day or night. Of what use to you is a lantern?"—"I don't carry the +lantern in order to see the road," replied the blind man, "but to keep +some fool like you from running against me and breaking my pitcher."</p> + +<p><i>The Woman who was Afraid of being Kissed.</i>—A man was once walking along +one road and a woman along another. The roads finally united, and the man +and woman, reaching the junction at the same time, walked on from there +together. The man was carrying a large iron kettle on his back; in one +hand he held by the legs a live chicken, in the other a cane; and he was +leading a goat. Just as they were coming to a deep dark ravine, the woman +said to the man, "I am afraid to go through that ravine with you: it is a +lonely place, and you might overpower me and kiss me by force."—"If you +were afraid of that," said the man, "you shouldn't have walked with me at +all: how can I possibly overpower you and kiss you by force when I have +this great iron kettle on my back, a cane in one hand and a live chicken +in the other, and am leading this goat? I might as well be tied hand and +foot."—"Yes," replied the woman, "but if you should stick your cane into +the ground and tie the goat to it, and turn the kettle bottom side up, and +put the chicken under it, <i>then</i> you might wickedly kiss me in spite of my +resistance."—"Success to thy ingenuity, O woman!" said the rejoicing man +to himself: "I should never have thought of such expedients." And when +they came to the ravine he stuck his cane into the ground and tied the +goat to it, gave the chicken to the woman, saying, "Hold it while I cut +some grass for the goat," and then, lowering the kettle from his +shoulders, imprisoned the fowl under it, and wickedly kissed the woman, as +she was afraid he would.</p> + +<p>It would be easy to multiply illustrations of Caucasian wit and humor, but +the above anecdotes are fairly representative, and must suffice. I will +close this paper with two specimens of mountain satire—"The Stingy +Mullah" and "An Eye for an Eye."</p> + +<p><i>The Stingy Mullah.</i>—The mullah of a certain village, who was noted for +his avarice and stinginess, happened one day in crossing a narrow bridge +to fall into the river. As he could not swim, he sank for a moment out of +sight, and then coming to the surface floated down the stream, struggling +and yelling for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> help. A passer-by ran to the bank, and stretching out his +arm shouted to the mullah, "Give me your hand! give me your hand!" but the +mullah thrust both hands as far as possible under water and continued to +yell. Another man, who knew the mullah better, ran to the bank lower down +and leaning over the water cried to him, "Here! take my hand! take my +hand!" And the mullah, grasping it eagerly, was drawn out of the river. He +was always ready to <i>take</i>, but would not <i>give</i> even so much as his hand +to save his life.</p> + +<p>The following clever bit of satire was probably invented by an inhabitant +of one of the Arab khanates as a means of getting even with a ruler who +had wronged him by an absurdly unjust decision. The khans of the Eastern +Caucasus previous to the Russian conquest had almost unlimited power over +the lives and persons of their subjects, and their decrees, however +unreasonable and unfair they might be, were enforced without appeal and +with inexorable severity. A mountaineer therefore in Avaria or Koomookha +who considered himself aggrieved by a decision of his khan, and who dared +not complain openly, could relieve his outraged feelings only by inventing +and setting afloat an anonymous pasquinade. Some of these short personal +satires are very clever pieces of literary vengeance.</p> + +<p><i>An Eye for an Eye.</i>—A robber one night broke into the house of a poor +Lesghian in search of plunder. While groping around in the dark he +accidentally put out one of his eyes by running against a nail which the +Lesghian had driven into the wall to hang clothes upon. On the following +morning the robber went to the khan and complained that this Lesghian had +driven a nail into the wall of his house in such a manner as to put out +one of his (the robber's) eyes, and for this injury he demanded redress. +The khan sent for the Lesghian and inquired why he had driven this nail, +and if he had not done it on purpose to put out the robber's eye. The +Lesghian explained that he needed the nail to hang clothes upon, and that +he had driven it into the wall for that purpose and no other. The khan, +however, declared that the law demanded an eye for an eye; and since he +had been instrumental in putting out the robber's eye, it would be +necessary to put out one of his eyes to satisfy the claims of justice. +"Your Excellency," replied the poor Lesghian, "I am a tailor. I need both +my eyes in order to carry on my business and obtain the necessaries of +life; but I know a man who is a gunsmith: he uses only one eye to squint +along his gun-barrels, so that the other is of no particular service to +him. Be so just, O khan! as to order one of his eyes to be put out and +spare mine." The khan said, "Very well," and, sending for the gunsmith, +explained to him the situation of affairs. "I also need both eyes," +objected the gunsmith, "because I have to look on both sides of a +gun-barrel in order to tell whether it is straight or not; but near me +there lives a man who is a musician. When he plays on the <i>zoorna</i> [a +Caucasian fife] he shuts both eyes; so his trade won't suffer even if he +lose his eyesight entirely. Be so just, O khan! as to order one of his +eyes to be put out and spare mine." To this the khan also agreed, and sent +for the musician. The fifer admitted that he shut both eyes when he played +his fife; whereupon the khan ordered one of them to be put out, and +declared that he only left him the other as a proof of the great mercy, +justice and forbearance of khans.</p> + +<p>This little bit of burlesque, short as it is, is full of delicate +satirical touches. The prompt attention given to the complaint of the +robber, who of course has no rights whatever in the premises; the +readiness of the khan to infer malice on the part of the plundered +Lesghian; his unique conception of the <i>lex talionis</i> as a law which may +be satisfied with anybody's eye; the cool assumption that because the +unfortunate fifer occasionally <i>shuts</i> both eyes he ought in strict +justice to <i>lose</i> both eyes, and should be duly grateful to the merciful +khan for permitting him to keep one of them,—are all the fine and skilful +touches of a bright wit and a humorous fancy.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">George Kennan</span>.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="OF_BARBARA_HICKS" id="OF_BARBARA_HICKS"></a>OF BARBARA HICKS.</h2></div> + +<p class="center">I.</p> + + +<p>When I looked under her bonnet I perceived a face that was more to my mind +than any face I had ever before seen. Perhaps it was wrong for me to think +so much about a face; but it was borne in upon me that such a well-favored +countenance must of necessity come from a still more well-favored manner +of life; for a face, to me, is only the reflex of the inner workings of +Life, and to this day I doubt if I could sit down and describe fully the +shape or moulding of any one particular feature of that face, for it was +not the <i>face</i>, but the expression that formed it, that inclined me toward +it. I was a stranger in the place, and but newly come, and my name had +forerun me in kindly writings from many friends, so that I may often have +been mentioned in households where I had never been seen. But I went to +Barbara Hicks's father, and informed him how considerably my mind inclined +me toward his daughter, and that I would, if he permitted me, ask to be +better known unto her. "Thee is over young to think of marriage, friend +Biddle," said he.</p> + +<p>I felt a burning sensation mounting to my face, and I could only say in +reply, "Verily. But the heart of youth is lonely—more so than the heart +of age, and it looks upon all Nature for companionship."</p> + +<p>"Thy mingling with the world's people has made thee glib of tongue," said +he, eyeing me, and smiling as much as was seemly.</p> + +<p>"But I am not of the world's people, if thee means the flaunters of +various colors and loud-voiced nothings. And I do not think of +marriage—nay, will not—until thy daughter has taken me into full +acquaintanceship and approbation. Thee knows I am not advanced in the +world's wealth, and that I am but a beginner in manhood; thee knows that I +came here and set up as a lumberman; thee may or may not care to have thy +daughter to know me."</p> + +<p>"I care as much as beseems any father to bethink him of his child's +welfare. Come with me, Samuel Biddle."</p> + +<p>So he fetched me into the sizable sunny kitchen where Barbara was +preparing vegetables for the dinner.</p> + +<p>"This is friend Samuel Biddle," said he.</p> + +<p>"I am pleased to see thee," said she, "and if thee waits until I dry my +fingers I will shake hands with thee."</p> + +<p>Youth is ever impetuous. In my haste or foolish confusion I took her hand +as it was, and had the mortified pride of seeing a long potato-paring +hanging about my thumb when she had resumed her occupation.</p> + +<p>"Thee is overly quick," said her father, rather displeased, I thought.</p> + +<p>"Thee must pardon me: it is a habit I have."</p> + +<p>"Habits are bad things to have."</p> + +<p>"Thank thee," I said.</p> + +<p>I know that unnecessary words are wholly unlooked for amongst us Friends, +and that description of any part of the Lord's works is as unnecessary and +carries with it as little of what we mean as can be. Incidents are greater +than description, as the telling to me how a tree looked when it was in +full foliage is not near so incisive as that the tree fell with a great +crash during a storm in the night. Therefore it would be using needless +language, which a Friend's discipline enjoins him to beware of, for me to +say how friend Hicks's daughter might have seemed to those to whom I +wished to impart how she seemed to me; rather let some various incidents +provide their estimate of her. That one of the world's people might say +she was pleasant to look upon I have no doubt; but to me she was not +beautiful: she was only what I would have had her to be; and that which is +entirely as we would have it to be is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span> never beautiful: it is too near us +to be that. I cared well to be with her while her father bided near and +talked to me of the community I had left, and which had given me my +certificate to friend Hicks's Meeting. And yet I fear me that I made +several dubious replies to his many trite questions as we sat on the porch +in the quiet of the evening, for friend Barbara's eyes were upon me, and +she had a little dint in either cheek which affected me amazingly. (I have +heard such dints called dimples—by whom, I cannot say.) She had a most +extraordinary way of miscomprehending all that I said, and frequently +appealing to her father; so I perforce must repeat all that I had before +said, which often forced me into much confusion of words, which seemed to +make her dints more deep than usual. Then the quiet of her home after a +busy day of traffic and bargaining and buying and selling was infinitely +composing to my mind. There were trees all about the house, and some +orderly flowers—more of the herb species, I think, than the decorative. +There were faint sounds coming from distant places, and when a great many +stars were come and the wind waved the branches of the trees, the stars +looked, as one might say, like tiny musical lamps set among the leaves, +they seemed so many and so bright there, and the distant sounds so +pleasant. I am not, as a usual thing, a noticing man, but while friend +Hicks's daughter was within a few feet of me it seemed I noticed +everything with considerable acuteness. I think this may be accounted for +on the score that I was trying to notice something which failed me as I +searched for it; and that was, if I were to Barbara what Barbara was to +me. She was too friendly, and yet I would have her friendly: she was too +cheerful, and yet I would have her cheerful. I bethink me that I would +rather that her friendliness and cheerfulness might in a measure depend +upon me for existence. I think I came too often to friend Hicks's house, +although he understood me.</p> + +<p>"Thee is a most persistent young man," he said to me.</p> + +<p>"Does thee think too much so?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Nay, friend Biddle: persistency is an excellent quality which is most +praiseworthy in youth."</p> + +<p>"And does thee think that persistency will gain me a wife?"</p> + +<p>"Thee had better depend upon thyself more than upon persistency in such an +issue," he said, with the corners of his mouth much depressed.</p> + +<p>"Does thee think I might venture to offer myself to thy daughter for a +husband?"</p> + +<p>"Nay. A husband never offers himself to his wife: the gift should be so +valuable that she would willingly exchange herself for it."</p> + +<p>"Will thy daughter think so?"</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly."</p> + +<p>"May I be emboldened to ask her?"</p> + +<p>"Thy mind must tell thee better than my lips," he said.</p> + +<p>Then I watched him going down among the trees and the shadows, and I sat, +much perturbed in spirit, waiting for Barbara. When she did come I had not +one word to say. I only remember that I sat with one leg crossed over the +other, and wished I could perchance cross the right one over the left +instead of the left over the right, and yet I had not the power to do so. +I was sure my brain was playing me false, for things seemed utterly at +variance with possibilities.</p> + +<p>"Thee seems shaken, friend Biddle," said she.</p> + +<p>"Nay," I responded.</p> + +<p>"Thee certainly is. I trust thy business is prospering, and that thy mind +is not set too much upon any one thing."</p> + +<p>"Nay."</p> + +<p>"Can I do anything for thee?"</p> + +<p>"Nay."</p> + +<p>So I could not say one word. Friend Barbara took up her knitting, and I +saw that she was rounding the heel of a stocking; and I trust I am +truthful, if volatile, when I remember me that I wished I were her +knitting-needle. She was very quiet: her ball of yarn slipped away, +lacking proper gravitation. "My!" said she, and went and fetched it.</p> + +<p>"Has thee ill news from thy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> people?" she asked, rather restive under my +changelessness.</p> + +<p>"They are happily easy," said I.</p> + +<p>Then she was quiet.</p> + +<p>I bethought me that I had my hat in my hand, and would rise to put it upon +my head and say farewell, but I could not.</p> + +<p>"Thee does not seem so comfortable as thee might be," said she.</p> + +<p>"I am comfortable," I said.</p> + +<p>Then her yarn rolled away again. Again she said, "My!" and fetched it.</p> + +<p>"Is thee waiting for father?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said I.</p> + +<p>I think she grew more restive under the silence: I arose. "Farewell," said +I.</p> + +<p>"Farewell," said she; and the dints in her cheeks were extreme: they were +the only dints about her, everything else being so prim and gray and +well-ordered, while these were—quite different.</p> + +<p>Her father came in just then. I went boldly to him. "Friend Hicks," I said +very loud, "will thee ask thy daughter to marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Can thee not ask?"</p> + +<p>"Nay: I have tried, but I fail. I never asked such a thing before, and, +belike, thee has."</p> + +<p>"Necessarily," said he.</p> + +<p>Then he asked Barbara. "Does thee quite approve friend Biddle?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"Necessarily," he answered as before.</p> + +<p>"Then, Samuel Biddle, I will be thy wife," said she.</p> + +<p>"Thank thee, friend Barbara," I said, and shook hands with her father.</p> + +<p>"Thee may shake hands with Barbara," said he.</p> + +<p>And I did. I fear me that she looked with a less demure look into my face +as I did so: I think she might have cared to have me hold her hand a +little longer than I did.</p> + +<p>But her father said, "Thee has attended to <i>thy</i> business: now bear me out +in <i>mine</i>. What is thy income? when can I see thy father and mother?"</p> + +<p>It was most gratifying on next First Day to go to meeting and sit beside +friend Hicks. Far over on the women's side I think I knew which woman was +Barbara. And meeting was stiller than ever, and more like the Lord's +meaning of holiness; or it was the stillness upon my spirit that needed no +divine Feet to tread it down and say, "Peace, be still!" I had reached the +peace beyond understanding saving to those who likewise possess it: +something that was greater to me than myself had come to me and called +itself all my own. There was a most able discourse from friend Broomall +that day, but I heard so little of it I have scarce the right to criticise +some of his comments. The windows were all open, and the sound of the +breeze that flapped the casement and the far-away lowing of a cow were +very pleasant—indeed, almost grievingly pleasant. And butterflies came in +and out, and were bright and soothing. Friend Hicks was soothed and slept +profoundly all the while: he awoke and said that friend Broomall had been +most cogent in his reasoning. I, who had heard so little, said, "Verily."</p> + +<p>After meeting, Barbara walked home, and I walked with her. I doubt if I +ever cared for flowers and blue skies and little singing birds as I did on +that placid First Day—my own First Day!</p> + +<p>"Thee was most attentive during meeting, Samuel Biddle," said she.</p> + +<p>"Thank thee. So was thee," said I.</p> + +<p>"How does thee know?"</p> + +<p>"I fear I watched thee."</p> + +<p>"Thee might have been better employed."</p> + +<p>"How did thee know that <i>I</i> was attentive?"</p> + +<p>"Like thee, I think I watched thee."</p> + +<p>"Thank thee, Barbara Hicks."</p> + +<p>"The same to thee, Samuel Biddle."</p> + +<p>I think all this made me most kindly disposed toward the whole world. We +reached home shortly, and Barbara poured tea for me during dinner-time, +and made it very sweet—sweeter than I had ever accustomed myself to take +tea, though I deemed it more than admirable. After dinner friend Hicks +said the flies were troublous that time of the day. We were on the porch, +friend Hicks, his daughter and myself. I suggested that he might be less +troubled did he cover his face with his handkerchief.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thee is thoughtful," said he, and did so with an odd look in his face; +and I saw that he had left a small corner of the handkerchief turned over, +so that his left eye was not out of view. Barbara was in a chair next to +mine, only considerably removed, and her father was on the other side of +me. We were very quiet, and Barbara said it was a most likely day. I said +yes—that I never remembered such another day. I heard friend Hicks give +infallible tokens of sleep; I knew the flies troubled him considerably; so +I thought it well to reach over and turn the corner of his handkerchief +over his exposed eye. Then I placed my chair closer to Barbara's.</p> + +<p>Everybody knew we should marry each other from that First Day when I had +sat with friend Hicks and walked home with Barbara afterward. Friend +Broomall welcomed me to the Monthly Meeting with many cordial expressions, +and spoke conciliatingly of the marriage state. It was most pleasant to me +when I walked betimes to see friend Barbara, and mayhap conversed during +the entire evening with her father about the lumber business or the +tariff, or some such subject: at such times I think my mind was not within +my speech, and that as often as modesty permitted I would look toward +Barbara. I am fully cognizant that I often tried to change the current of +argument by sometimes turning and saying, "Is it not the opinion of thee, +friend Barbara?" at some trite words from her father. "Thee knows a woman +understands so little of these various themes," she would say; and I would +grow restive. Yet friend Hicks grew more well-disposed toward me, and +cared to talk much of himself to me; which always shows that a man thinks +well of thee. I bethink me that if Barbara's mother had lived some things +might have been different, and that perchance she might have claimed her +husband's attention away from me a little, and monopolized an hour or so +of his time each evening: women have a species of inner seeing which most +men lack to a great degree. And yet, to show my fuller confidence in +friend Hicks, I said to him once, "I wish thee to take charge of all my +savings and earnings. Thee knows I shall be a married man some time, and +till then I would much desire thee to care for these moneys."</p> + +<p>"Can thee not take proper charge of what thee has collected?"</p> + +<p>"Yea. But my wife's father should understand the state of my finances."</p> + +<p>"Set not thy mind too much upon riches, Samuel Biddle."</p> + +<p>"Is thy daughter not worth any mere worldly riches I could accumulate?"</p> + +<p>"Favor is deceitful, and a woman should never put ill thoughts into a +man."</p> + +<p>"Did thee not hope for money as I do when thee was young and knew the +woman who would be thy wife?"</p> + +<p>"Samuel Biddle, I will do this for thee, as thee asks. Thee has grown upon +me much of late, and even as I once hoped, so it is meet that thee should +hope."</p> + +<p>So I gave my savings and earnings into his keeping; and when I had gone +away to the lumber-regions I sent the money just the same.</p> + +<p>"I thank thee for trusting father so much," said Barbara when we met after +this, and quite smiled in my face.</p> + +<p>"Thy father trusts me beyond my trust in him in letting thee into my +keeping," I said.</p> + +<p>"My!" said she. And we stood together for some little time, looking at +nothing in particular. And yet it was borne in upon me that friend Barbara +rarely thought of me when I was not present with her. I doubt much that +this should have given annoyance, for why should we pry into another's +thoughts? And yet it rankled in my bosom, and I could but feel that I knew +the truth. I should have liked her to think much of me, in sooth: I should +have liked her to think of me while she knitted the stockings in the +bright leafy porch or walked among her garden-herbs, or when she was busy +over her household cares. It was the vain-glorious feeling of youth which +prompted this doubt in me, but in youth vain-glory is what wisdom is in +age.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span></p> + +<p>I bethink me that I have said "friend Barbara" at some parts of this +narration, at others simply "Barbara." I may do so again and yet again. It +is and will be just as she appeared to me at the times whereof I set it +down.</p> + +<p>About this time—say three months after the First Day whereof I have +spoken—a very advantageous business-offer reached me from the +lumber-regions: I was to go there for a matter of six months, and I +should, perchance, be well remunerated for the going. I turned this matter +well over in my mind before I let it slip into another mind, and when I +deemed that I was resolute in forming and retaining my own set opinion I +imparted the knowledge to friend Hicks.</p> + +<p>"Thee will assuredly go?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Verily," I replied, and looked at Barbara, and saw that she knitted just +as actively and deftly as usual. This did not please me quite, for I +should have liked to see her pause and look up with much interest +manifested. But nay: she was ever the same. I could not guard my vain +tongue as I should have done; so, forgetting even her father's presence, I +said, "Friend Barbara, is thee sorry to see me go?"</p> + +<p>"Thee knows what is best for thee to do," said she.</p> + +<p>"But is thee sorry?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sorry."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps thy mind is not inclined to me as much as I had hoped?" I said +with considerable hot-headedness.</p> + +<p>"Thee is to me what thee has ever been—neither more nor less."</p> + +<p>"Barbara!" said her father with a high-raised voice.</p> + +<p>She started up before him, her face very much increased in color, and she +folded her arms above her kerchief. "Father," she said, "if thee thinks I +am old enough to marry, <i>I</i> think I am old enough to form an opinion of my +own. Had I been in Samuel Biddle's place, and an offer of change of +residence had been proffered to me, I should first have gone to the woman +who was to be my wife and told her the bearings of the case, and let her +tell her father: I should never have gone to her father first."</p> + +<p>She would have gone from the room, but her father called her back and bade +her resume her sewing; which she did, though I saw her neckerchief rise +and fall as though her heart were unusually perturbed beneath it.</p> + +<p>"Is thee grown perverse?" said her father angrily.</p> + +<p>"Nay," she answered. "I am my father's daughter: my will is my own."</p> + +<p>"This to me?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Friend Hicks," said I, in much pain, "I pray thee let me go: I have +unwittingly caused this. It has been because I set my mind so wilfully +upon thy daughter that I forgot all else but her, and had not the courage +to say to her what I did to thee."</p> + +<p>He spoke long and earnestly to me then, and when we looked around Barbara +had quietly quitted the room.</p> + +<p>But as I went sore of spirit down the lane on my way home she suddenly +faced me. There were marks upon her face as of the stains of drops of +water, and her eyes, I perceived, were heavy and swollen. "Will thee +forgive me, Samuel Biddle?" said she.</p> + +<p>"I should ask that of thee," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Thee knows I was headstrong," she said, taking my sleeve in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Not more so than I, for I made up my mind to marry thee, and, I fear me, +thought more of myself than of thee." She looked with compassion, I +thought, upon me.</p> + +<p>"I would be thy wife, no matter what comes," said she.</p> + +<p>"Feeling for me all that a wife should feel for her husband?"</p> + +<p>"Yea."</p> + +<p>Then I stood by Barbara while she wiped her eyes upon my sleeve.</p> + +<p>For a day or so I felt constrained at friend Hicks's house, but when I saw +his daughter the same as usual, kind and considerate—perhaps more +considerate than usual to me—I bethought me that perchance a Friend is at +times a trifle too circumspect in his words, a trifle too circumscribed in +his actions. He must be seemly in his carriage and speech, must not allow +unbecoming emotion to prey upon him, must build the body from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span> the spirit, +and not the spirit from the body. I had tried to do all these, and yet +there were times when sensation overpowered calculation, and it would have +afforded me peace to have held friend Barbara within my arms and said many +foolish and irrelevant words, and heard such words from her. Sometimes it +seems to me that three feet apart, two feet, one, two inches, one, is too +much from one who is exceedingly much to us: the mere touch of hand to +hand, unmeaning as such a thing is, may be infinitely more than a mere +gratification of sense. Still, I would not have it understood that I am a +militant spirit, fond of what stubborn folk term "progression," nor would +I throw aside any of the rules which have been mine and those of many +generations of ancestors who followed George Fox and knew his intents to +be pure withal.</p> + +<p>But I was to go away East now, and my preparations were completed.</p> + +<p>"I hope thee will bear in mind that I shall often think of thee, friend +Barbara," I said on the last evening I should see her for a long time.</p> + +<p>The dints in her face looked very comely as she answered, "I shall, friend +Biddle."</p> + +<p>"And thee will think of me?"</p> + +<p>"I always do," she said. And yet this was not what I had much desired, +although I must perforce be contented. I knew, though, that distance would +only make her closer to me in spirit, and that I should be kinder to all +women for her sake—that I should pity all helplessness for her sake; for +where the mind inclineth most favorably, where gentleness and sweetness +for another is borne in upon us, we invariably associate that other with a +sort of tender helplessness which can only be made into perfect strength +by ourselves. And then I had grown to have a species of fear for Barbara: +it was as though she were greater than I, although I could reason down +this foolish ebullition in the calm knowledge that the Lord made all +beings equal. Mayhaps, had I been assured in my mind that she should not +only think of me from necessity, arising out of our long companionship +and near relation, but that she should <i>care</i> well to call to mind my +absent form and features and voice and presence, and her own want of me, I +should have left friend Hicks's house with lithesome spirit and much +happiness. However, I thought, my being away for six months might cause +her to miss me; and we never miss what is not of great account to us.</p> + +<p>"May I write letters to thee, Barbara?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Thee must gain father's consent," she said.</p> + +<p>So I asked friend Hicks—only I asked it in this way: "May Barbara write +letters to me?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> will write thee all that is necessary, as thee will write me: what +more is needful?" answered friend Hicks.</p> + +<p>So, as I went away, and it was Seventh Day, and the world seemed expecting +the morrow, when the world's peace should be personified in public praise +and a cessation from labor and earthly thought, I stood in the shadow and +took friend Hicks's hand.</p> + +<p>"I trust thee may be successful," said he.</p> + +<p>"I think any man may be successful in this world's affairs," I said.</p> + +<p>"There is such a thing as suffering and pain which the Lord sends."</p> + +<p>"Nay, friend Hicks," I said, "I am lately thinking that peradventure the +Lord sends not pain to our earthly bodies, or else that pain would be a +trial and a punishment; whereas I may look around and see dumb animals and +little singing birds die of suffering and pain; and surely the Lord +inflicts no punishment on things he cannot be displeased with. Suffering +and pain are the worms of the earth, the penalties of earthly life, which +has more of the world in it than heaven."</p> + +<p>"I trust thee will not be arbitrary in time, friend Biddle," said he, +almost displeased.</p> + +<p>But Barbara placed her hand in mine. "Samuel Biddle," said she, "may a +man's suffering and pain be a <i>woman</i> sometimes?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Belike," I answered, and could say no more.</p> + +<p>"Then I say I trust thee shall be free from grievousness all thy life if I +can keep thee so."</p> + +<p>"Thee can," I said.</p> + +<p>"I will," she said.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Barbara."</p> + +<p>"Fare thee well, friend Biddle."</p> + +<p>I almost stumbled over a man as I hurried out by the gate. "I beg thy +pardon, friend," I said.</p> + +<p>"I beg yours, sir," he answered. I looked, and saw that he was a hireling +minister with a white cloth at his neck and an unhappily-cut coat. And he +raised his hand to his hat and said, "I am but new in this neighborhood: I +am the pastor of the church newly erected here."</p> + +<p>"Peace be unto thee, man of the Lord!" I said.</p> + +<p>"And to you, my friend!" he answered.</p> + +<p>And I had but time to reach the station and take my place in the car that +whirled me away from where my mind was so constantly set.</p> + + +<p class="center">II.</p> + +<p>It was but natural and wholly consistent that I should choose an +unassuming and grave lodging-house on my arrival at the place of my +destination; for, apart from my predilection of religious tenets, quietude +is closely allied to much thought; and while my training had made me +desire the quietude as a part and portion of the best of life, friend +Barbara had made thought inexpressibly pleasant and wholesome to me. There +were men all around me who had, perhaps, little or no thought of +religion—that is, the emotion of religion, which is so often confounded +with religion itself—yet when I made known my wishes of a quiet home to +them they assisted me without the usual looking askance at my plain garb +and manner of speech. Was I not a man like themselves? were not my +functions as their own? Take away what each of us looked upon as faults in +the other, and we were equals and alike. I made my request boldly: had I +minced the matter and felt a shame in it, I might have merited all the +ridicule which men morally and physically strong, or men morally and +physically diseased, usually throw upon a conscious weakness which would +pass for something else. I was recommended to many houses, only they all +had the great drawback—many other lodgers. At last some one proposed Jane +Afton's house: that was quiet enough, they assured me, but the greatest +objection to any paled when in comparison with this: she had a demented +woman in charge—harmless, but wholly astray from sense.</p> + +<p>"I assure thee," I said to friend Afton, "I fear not the minds of people: +the body does the harm in this world."</p> + +<p>"In that case you have come to the right house," said she. "For Fanny +Jordan is a little, slight woman without strength, and her insanity is +from religion."</p> + +<p>And so on my first day in the place I found my lodging-house. It might +have been more conciliating to my mind had friend Afton not attempted the +use of the plain language, for she made but a sorry attempt at it at best.</p> + +<p>"Thee's trunk is arrived, and thee's hat-box is smashed by the lout of a +boy that brought it," she said; and this is merely a specimen of her +manner. It was grating upon me, but I forbore to make remark, as I have no +doubt her principle was all that could be desired, although it was faulty +in its constructive carrying out. I may safely say that I did not remember +there was another lodger besides myself in her house when I retired for +the night, and I was sitting at the little table in my room moved by a +power of mind to think past many miles, even unto the home of friend +Hicks. I saw him sitting by the kitchen-fire that was so warm and large in +its dimensions—for it was cold weather now—and on the opposite side of +the hearth his daughter on a low chair was busy looking into the flame +that lit up the smooth bands of her hair that lay like satin of a soft +brown color upon her comely face. Her eyes were bright, her lips were +parting as one who jests, and—But I fear me I have run beyond sense +again. Suffice it to say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> that I sat there culpably lost in thought, when +a solemn voice like the voice of a prophet of old startled me and made me +cold.</p> + +<p>"Out of tribulation comes patience; out of patience, hope," said the +voice; and then a low, scornful laugh. It was then I remembered the poor +demented woman, and I arose and opened my room-door. She was standing +inside her own room, a slight pale woman with a sadly-bereaved face: her +arms were stretched out above her as one in supplication. "False God!" she +cried in a voice cold and bitter, in which there was no trace of +tenderness or pitiful earnestness, "Thou hast made me a lie upon Thy cruel +earth. Tribulation Thou hast given me; patience the world forced upon me; +hope Thou hast denied me."</p> + +<p>Still with her arms outstretched she <i>spoke</i> to the Lord and reviled Him. +She clenched her hands in anger at times as her speech waxed more +wrathful. In much compassion I would have gone in and closed the door, but +as I was on the point of doing so, she, with one of those quick and +nervous thrills that so often belong to dementia, saw me and pointed to +me. She would have spoken, but I saw friend Afton's hand suddenly close +about her waist, draw her forcibly from my view, and close the door +between us.</p> + +<p>"The Lord is mighty," I said to myself, and called to mind that youth +among the tombs so long ago—that youth that they of old said was +possessed of devils, and whom the pitying Man of Sorrows called upon to be +free from torments.</p> + +<p>In the morning friend Afton explained that I need have no fear.</p> + +<p>"I think thee fails to comprehend that we Friends neglect one thing in our +training, and that is fear," said I.</p> + +<p>"And poor Mrs. Jordan won't make thou look for another boarding-house, +sir?" asked she.</p> + +<p>"Friend Jordan assuredly will not," said I, "but friend Afton may, if thee +will pardon my abruptness, which seems to wound thee."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Thee has thy language, friend—I have mine. I do not stop to say 'you' +to thee because thy mode is not as mine: then thee might be as free with +me, and say 'you' to me, just as thee would if my plain garb were changed +for a Joseph's coat."</p> + +<p>"I thought I was polite in doing it," said she.</p> + +<p>"Thank thee. Thee may be that, but thee is scarcely truthful; and all due +politeness, as thee terms it, must be truthful, or it is called deceit."</p> + +<p>She understood me, and she was natural thereafter.</p> + +<p>Now perhaps I chafed in spirit at this time because I heard no word from +friend Hicks. I am convinced at this present moment that had he felt it +borne in upon him to indite me some words of homely comfort, I should have +been gratified exceedingly. But his mind lay otherwise presumably, for no +word came for a week.</p> + +<p>Once during that week I saw friend Jordan walking wearisomely along the +passage-way of friend Afton's house. She gave me a quick look as she saw +me ascending the stair. "Ishmael!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Nay," I responded: "no man's hand is against me, nor is mine against any +man."</p> + +<p>"And yet I am Hagar weeping in the wilderness."</p> + +<p>"I pity thee."</p> + +<p>"You are a Quaker."</p> + +<p>"I am a Friend."</p> + +<p>"And you believe in God?"</p> + +<p>"Yea, verily. The voice of the Lord in the vineyard calleth me ever."</p> + +<p>"Fool! There is no God."</p> + +<p>"Nay, I am no fool. 'The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.' +And I never say that."</p> + +<p>"I used to think that, but God has taken away my life, and left me the +life of the damned."</p> + +<p>"The Lord taketh no man's life: He giveth, and man destroyeth."</p> + +<p>"I like you, Quaker. You don't say 'Never mind,' and give me right in all +I say. Yes, I like you, Quaker."</p> + +<p>"I thank thee, friend," I said, and passed by her and entered my room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span></p> + +<p>As time went on I grew accustomed to hearing her at all hours of the night +repeating passages from the Scriptures, and misapplying their calm +greatness. I could hear her open her window, and could see from mine that +she stood there talking to the stars, and asking them where was the woman +that had been she, and where was her own dear love and unalterable +affection? I could see that she wept often, and that the tears ran down +her white wan face all pinched by suffering, and that she supplicated the +night in tender words to bring back to her what had gone away—what had +gone away!</p> + +<p>I was alone in this place: the people were not such as would be my choice +of companions, for there were no Friends in the community, and I scarcely +think I ever was fitted for the society of the world's people. I care much +for silent meditation and in-looking, and the joys and pleasures of the +gayer people seemed but noisome, and not of a tone with Nature's silent +sunshine and green leaves, white snows and growing things. It is, I know, +my early training that has made me fitted only to see thus. I cared now +much to stay in my room after the tasks of the day were over and think of +the friends far off. Belike I am most domestic in my desires, and that may +be the cause why my mind travelled swiftly and surely to friend Hicks's +fireside, and dwelt so long and with all gentleness close beside his +daughter. And then I began, in my being so much alone, to inconsistently +connect friend Barbara with friend Jordan. The demented woman was always +calling out for those who were much to her, but who were far from her—was +always saying that her heart wanted the love that was denied it. I bethink +me that I more fully sympathized with her than was my wont, simply because +I cared so much for friend Barbara and heard so much of longing for +affection that had been denied. Therefore, as time passed on and the +letters from friend Hicks were very few, and always ended with "My +daughter sends her duty to thee"—never one word more or less—and I +could not with becoming grace say aught of her to her father when I +replied to his letters, which were strictly of a business nature and +acknowledged the receipt of various moneys which I sent him for the +keeping,—therefore, as time passed on, friend Jordan grew upon me. I +would leave my room-door open of nights, and take a chair and seat myself +upon the threshold; and as she walked up and down, up and down, restless +and discontented, repeating disconnected scraps of Bible verses, I would +often say a word to her in answer to some heedless and terrible question +of the goodness of the Lord. Friend Afton had less care of her at such +times, for she told me friend Jordan cared very well for me because I was +so quiet and orderly. Then when the woman was tired and could walk no +more, I would offer her my chair and would talk to her—not giving her +frivolous answer for frivolous question, but saying to her what I had to +say as earnestly as though I had been moved by Spirit in meeting to give +the assurances of my own heart. It is a wonder to me at this day how calm +she often became under my mode of speech. She fell into the way of looking +for me and expecting me, and often when I saw her, far in the night, at +her window holding out her very thin hands in supplication, I would softly +raise my own window and say kindly, "Don't thee think thee could sleep if +thee tried, friend Jordan?"—"I will try, Quaker," she would say, and go +in and close the window, and remain quiet for the rest of the night. It +was a sad contrast, I am sure—she wild and uncontrollable from +self-government, and I held in and still by discipline of many ancestors. +And then when she found that her cavilling against the Lord and His mighty +works was the opposite of pleasant to me, and made me sad of visage, she +after a while would content herself to say, "I used to say" so and so, as +the case might be, "but now I doubt myself;" which was more comforting.</p> + +<p>But there came a letter from friend Hicks; and after much talk concerning +a certain lot of lumber and other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> matters of business, he said, "My +daughter is not looking healthful, and is not so well as could be +desired." I do not know what made me forget all the rest of his letter but +that one line. It seemed to me that I was stricken with pain with that +thin black miracle—pen-and-ink words. I wrote a letter to him instantly; +I put aside all modesty of demeanor and spoke only of Barbara, of my +desire to have her well and cheerful; I never once in all my lines +mentioned business. Friend Hicks must have been sensibly astonished. That +night when I went home friend Jordan for the first time grated upon me, +and I would fain have gone into my room and closed the door and thought +long and painfully. In my flighty mind I saw Barbara pining, and for me! +Never before had I thought she cared so well for me as now when she was +not in fair health. It is a sad happiness to think that some dear one is +far from thee, and heavy of heart all for thee. But I was selfish, for I +heard a sob at my closed door, and friend Jordan was crouched on the sill. +"Have <i>you</i> deserted me too?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Nay, friend," I replied, "but I had sad news which left me beyond much +comfort."</p> + +<p>"'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will +fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort +me,'" she said.</p> + +<p>"Will thee touch my hand?" I tried to say, for my voice was quite broken. +"Comfort!"</p> + +<p>And so we talked long and tirelessly: she seemed in her sanest mind, and +something in me appeared to make her look at me more than usual.</p> + +<p>"Why do you not complain?" she asked me. And I told her that I had nothing +to complain of.</p> + +<p>And to-night she told me that she had read the Scriptures +misunderstandingly all her life; that she had taken their truths to her in +affright; that their majesty had, instead of raising her up to their +height, debased her even below herself. I saw in all from the first, even +had friend Afton not told me, that what is called religion had wrecked her +mind, and in my own manner of understanding the Lord's way I could +scarcely comprehend it.</p> + +<p>Although I had not much mind in my affairs after I had heard of Barbara's +illness, yet a week sped along before I had word again. And what word was +it that <i>did</i> come? I have read that to hear of the death of one who is +infinitely near to us in spirit is not the worst we can hear—that the +separation by death is not so eternal as the separation which life can +make. Barbara wrote me herself this time, unknown to her father; and I had +been away but a matter of three months. She said no word of her illness +nor of her father: she addressed herself in all honesty and ruth to me. +She had, somehow, in the place met with a man, one of the world's people, +whom she found much to her mind—far more than I had ever been, she said: +her father necessarily knew nothing of this, and she had chosen rather to +tell me of it first, as I had the best right to know first of all. (The +best right! I remembered the time when I had spoken to her father before I +had spoken to her of my intended coming to this place where I was.) She +asked me would I be willing to take as a wife a woman who could not care +for me solely, carrying guiltily into her married life the memory of her +great feeling for a man who was not her husband. She asked if it were not +better that she should tell me this, rather than to hold herself tied to a +false code of honor which should make her give herself to me because she +had promised to do so. She would, if I still chose to hold her to her +word, marry me, but it was best I should know; and she trusted I would say +no word to her father about this, as it was clearly between her and me. +She further said that did I refuse to give her up she would not compromise +me in the least, as she did not know if that other man cared at all for +her; and she was sure, as I must be, that she had never shown him that he +was aught to her.</p> + +<p>This was the letter I was to answer unknown to her father. I saw her honor +standing out white and unassailable in it: I saw even her modesty, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> +above all, her truth and the womanly knowledge of what a wife should be to +her husband. I also saw that her father's will was her law; that her +father's will had influenced her ever; and that when I first proffered my +request of him for his daughter in marriage she took such a request as his +will: had he said No, her answer would have been likewise: as it was Yes, +she had acquiesced. But the pain of it! the pain of it!</p> + +<p>I never once, from the minute the words clung to my mind like burning iron +to flesh, questioned as to how I must reply to the letter: the reply +shaped itself while I read her words. Could I take to myself a wife who +cared little for me? I cared too much for Barbara to have such a wife.</p> + +<p>And yet when I had come to friend Afton's house and entered my room, I +closed and locked the door before I sat down to reply to the letter, as +though I were doing a guilty deed. My hand trembled: the words I wrote +were blurred. I heard a low knock at my door, but I answered it not: why +should even a demented woman see me as I was? I wrote and re-wrote my +answer before I found it fitted to my mind. My letter must have not myself +in it: it must be clean of all foolish extravagance. And yet I extenuated, +for I called for another letter from her. I wrote, Did she rightly know +her mind? was she firm in her reasoning? <i>and who was the man?</i> I had not +intended writing that last, but something forced me to it: it was not vain +curiosity, for curiosity is too far removed from pain to be a part of it. +But I could not see whom she could possibly know of all the inhabitants of +the place that could thus exercise her spirit. There were few people there +whom she had not known for years, and it was not likely she should have +known any one all this time and only now be awakened to a greater +knowledge. Perhaps a cruel feeling of jealousy actuated me in some +measure. Why, I reasoned, had friend Barbara thus led me on? But I stopped +there. Had she led me on? Nay. She had never given me reason to think that +I was aught to her: I had ever wrestled in spirit, hoping that she would +see in me what I saw so clearly in her—all that I could ever care to call +my own. She had never tried to deceive me by false words or looks or +actions: she had been true to her instincts as a woman in all this time, +and had been as I had seen her. Too truly I saw that the care had been +upon my side alone—that when I was most uplifted in spirit it was because +I had been blinded to anything save my own inordinate feeling and hope of +comfort. I forgot all else as I sat there with her letter in my hand; and +even my discipline was of little account when I folded my arms across the +table and let my head rest there for a little while.</p> + +<p>How long I rested there I know not, but I was aroused by words of friend +Jordan, and she said those awful questionings from the Cross, "My God! my +God! why hast Thou forsaken me?" And I arose and raised my hand, and said +those same words too. Then I opened the door, and she sprang into my arms. +She was wild and excited, and friend Afton was with her, but powerless to +do anything. I let her weep close to me and cry out and laugh—do just as +she would until she sank exhausted. Then I talked with her calmly and +dispassionately, and she clung to me and would not be removed. For an hour +or so we rested there, and then friend Afton gave me a letter from friend +Hicks. I started, and would have put the letter in my pocket, but the eyes +of friend Jordan were upon me, and I thought to allay her suspicions of my +not acting toward her as I would toward others; so I opened and read the +letter. No need to send friend Barbara the letter now. Her father wrote me +that his daughter, much against his will, had formed the acquaintance of a +hireling minister, one Richard Jordan, who had charge of the new church +just built there, and that, though friend Barbara had never told of the +man, yet her father had seen her walking with him. Friend Hicks deemed +that her being promised to me gave only me the right to expostulate with +her upon this, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span> desired me to write to her forthwith, as he himself +had said no word to her. I had friend Barbara's letter and her father's: +which should I obey? The one coming from the friend who was nearest to me?</p> + +<p>I afterward wrote to Barbara that I could not say one word of myself in +this matter, but that she must act as she thought best; only that she must +take all things into consideration, and must weigh one thing in the +balance with another—that did she make a mistake in going from her people +into the world, she might never rectify it to her own mind; but that if +she could justify her acts to herself, there was no need to call upon any +aid outside of what her own principles of right could afford her. I +thought it as well not to put myself at all in the letter, and to let her +think that it was as though I were writing as an interested friend to +another who scarcely knew what to do in a momentous time. Her father's +letter I passed entirely over. He never knew, nor does Barbara know to +this day, that I received it.</p> + +<p>Yet that night, when I sat with friend Jordan in the hallway of friend +Afton's house, my mind seemed confused and full of uncertainty. I scarcely +noted the name which friend Hicks told me belonged to the man he had seen +his daughter walking with, and not until friend Afton called to the other +woman that she should retire for the night did the similarity of the names +bear upon me. The hireling minister was named Jordan, the demented woman's +name was Jordan: it might be a casual coincidence, but the man seemed +taking all away from me that had made my life pleasant and hopeful, while +the woman said I gave her new life, new hope, and all that life and hope +consisted of—a healthful belief in the Lord and His works—although I +knew that while she said so her lost mind was perhaps only being +influenced by a quiet and moderate one. Yet maybe there are moments of +what is called delusion which are the most sane constituents of a +lifetime. As it was, late in the night, as I lay awake and sore in spirit, +and wild with all things and almost with the Lord, sleepless and with +much yearning grown upon me, I heard the voice calling out in the night up +to the stars and the mystery of quiet for love and all that had been near +and dear to this one clouded mind; and I turned my face to the wall. And I +was like Ishmael indeed when I remembered, while that voice threw out its +plaint and the words were clear and cleaved the darkness, that when I had +last parted with Barbara, when I hurried from her presence fearful to look +back lest she might call me from manly order by a look or a smile, I had +thrown myself against a man outside the garden-gate, the man with a white +neckcloth and long black ill-cut coat, who had told me that he was the +minister of the church but newly erected, and that I had bidden peace go +with him, and he had bidden it back to me.</p> + + +<p class="center">III.</p> + +<p>I bethink me that I was very much perturbed in my mind after this, albeit +I was exteriorly the quiet, drab-colored Quaker that all knew me to be. +Still, I have failed yet to ascertain what discipline that can govern +actions, looks and speech can make man's heart throb more sluggishly than +the feelings to which all Nature is prone must ever provoke. Thee knows a +Friend must be seemly to all, and that alone will inform thee that I +manifested no alteration in my demeanor. And my business qualifications +were not impaired because of the uprising in my mind, for what has worldly +business to do with spiritual? I could bargain and sell to the best +advantage, be wholly consistent in all things, and be termed a man whose +feelings were so schooled that no emotion ever dared come nigh them. Thee +may think, the world may think, that suppressed emotion is annihilated +emotion: I who wear drab know differently. And the silence between friend +Barbara and myself was not a silence to be broken by useless speech: it +was too closely allied to the end of something I had been brought to think +almost eternal. I still had letter after letter from friend Hicks, which I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> +replied to always—letters on purely business-matters, never once touched +by so much as the name of Barbara, for she no longer sent her duty to me; +and I could but realize how stern her father must be to her at home for +her dereliction, and I—pitied her. As the weeks went by and I heard +nothing of or from her, I may safely asseverate that the cruelly weak +feeling that had oppressed me at first left me by degrees, and I could see +far clearer than before, and could perchance blame myself for having +failed to see ere this that I was what I was to her. I began to weigh the +many chances of happiness against the many certainties of unhappiness, and +I could but understand that she had with a woman's keen insight found out +easily what it had cost me so considerably to know. I could not blame her: +why should I? She had acted most fairly to me: had I done as well to her? +In friend Afton's house I fought the battle which alone Friends approve of +and sanction—the battle of the spirit against the flesh; and I conquered +well, I am assured, although I could never cease to care for friend +Barbara as I had cared for her since I had known her: it would have been +entirely inconsistent with the principles of constancy and truth which had +been so early and late imbibed by me.</p> + +<p>I must say now that my great comfort in these times was friend Jordan; +and, odd as it may appear, the similarity of her name with that of the man +whom friend Hicks's daughter had learned to regard so highly seemed to +call her closer to me than anything else at the same season might have +done. Of evenings we would take up our old manner, and she would say, +"Quaker, you are kinder than you know."</p> + +<p>She had never learned my name, nor had expressed a desire to know it: what +were names of things to her who had lost the things themselves?</p> + +<p>"Thank thee, friend Jordan," I would say; and then we would sit and talk. +Sometimes she would do all the talking: at other times she let me join +her. With her confused mind it was perhaps the best work I could have had, +to try to let in a little light where darkness had been so long.</p> + +<p>"We always love those the most who give us the most pleasure, do we not?" +she asked me.</p> + +<p>I could not give her the reply she wanted, for friend Hicks's daughter had +given me considerable happiness; so I remained quiet.</p> + +<p>"Then next to those I love, and who nightly shine down to me in long, cool +reaches of light from the stars, I love you, Quaker," she said.</p> + +<p>"I thank thee," I replied.</p> + +<p>"You should never thank for love," she said, "for it is a gift that +requires as much as it bestows."</p> + +<p>"And yet they call thee crazed!" I said, and placed my hand upon her wild +dishevelled hair.</p> + +<p>"But you Quakers never show any feeling," she went on, "and I suppose you +never love."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes we do," said I.</p> + +<p>She seemed to think I was made sorry by what she had spoken, for she +started. "What am I saying?" she exclaimed, "when you have shown me more +feeling than any one in the world; and maybe you love me a little."</p> + +<p>"We should love our neighbors as ourselves."</p> + +<p>"I want the stars," she began, weeping: "I want to reach them, to go to +them, to have the light in my mind that is gone out of it up to them."</p> + +<p>I could say nothing, for my want was something akin to hers.</p> + +<p>Many a wild night had she now, and friend Afton and I had often but sad +chances of keeping her within bounds: we had to watch her while she would +stand and call out to the far-off lights in the sky; and as, like a +prophet of old, she stood and repeated divine words of care and an +all-seeing love, she was grown softer and gentler, and her speech seemed +to come from one who understood what the words imparted to her hearers. +She was fond of saying the Psalms of David, and would weep at the touching +words of suffering, of joy and of exultation which that man, so many +thousand years dead, had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> wont to sing as perchance he stood as she +now did, looking up to the same nightly skies and weeping as she now wept, +as his words rang through the ever-settled calmness of the night, and had +no answer borne to his ears, but only the quiet made even quieter by his +sorrow or his joy.</p> + +<p>But I find that again I am using superfluous if not wholly irrelevant +speech. Let me say, however, that had I possessed more curiosity—or, +rather, if I had expressed more curiosity—friend Afton would have told +me, as she afterward did, that the woman was not so entirely alone as she +imagined herself to be, for that weekly letters reached friend Afton +wherein were goodly wages for the care of the stricken one.</p> + +<p>That my affairs prospered I am glad to relate—that in the six months I +should be here I should accumulate an agreeable sum might have pleased me. +But what was that sum to me now, when I realized to what purpose I had +expected to put it? Yet my greed received a check. I had a letter from +friend Hicks. It was a most grievous letter: my money, all that he held in +trust for me (and it was my all), had been stolen from his keeping. The +theft had occurred more than a month ago, but as he had sedulously hoped +to detect the culprit, he had kept the fact from me for shame at what +might be termed his negligence of reposed trust. He had instigated +diligent search, but nothing had come of it: there was no one to accuse. +He had determined, however, to pay back to my account from his own moneys +the full amount, and had only informed me of the loss that there might be +no secrecy between us, and that I should never hear from outside parties +that this thing had occurred, and that he had used most reprehensive tact +to disguise the fact from me. I wrote a letter to him. I reminded him that +the money was of no account—that as it had been intended for the +well-known purpose, and as my marriage was to be at no set time, let it +rest to my loss, and not his, for that I would never accept of his money +to cover what was truthfully a theft from me.</p> + +<p>I heard long afterward that he let his daughter read this letter, as he +knew that she was often with Richard Jordan, and he desired to acquaint +her that I meant to be well in all my principles. This was as I understood +it.</p> + +<p>The loss of this money gave me little concern, I assure thee; and now that +it would never be put to its originally-intended use, I perhaps cared less +than I ordinarily might have cared; for friend Barbara's long silence +could help me but to one conclusion, and that was that she would never be +my wife. For had she consented to be guided by her former promise, her +confession of much care for another man would have most effectively +debarred me from calling into requisition that promise so exactingly +obtained from her. My wife must have no fondness for another man than me. +And yet when, a few days after the receipt and reply of her father's +letter, another in friend Barbara's writing was placed in my hand, I can +but say that more joy than I had ever before experienced was mine, and I +thought of Miriam's song so full of triumph and gladness. And then the +wonderful words of the psalm came to me. "'Yea, though I walk through the +valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, +Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me,'" I said aloud, and thought of poor +friend Jordan as she had understood those words so short a time ago.</p> + +<p>Suppose Barbara had written in answer to my letter to her—had owned that +her thought of the man was a delusion, and that she cared for me, and me +only, above all others in the world! I carried the letter by me for many +an hour, for it was business-time when I had it, and I let nothing +interfere with needful duties of the day. It lay within my pocket +pulseless, as a letter always is: its envelope had my name upon it +carefully and neatly inscribed. Then when I had an hour to myself I +walked, not more briskly than usual, to a sunny hollow surrounded by new +boards smelling most pleasantly of the rich forests they had helped to +form, and there, surrounded by deal that had held many a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> singing bird's +voice in its time, I broke the seal of Barbara's second letter to me. I +think I was vastly stricken as I read it—more stricken perhaps than life +can ever experience twice. Did she write as I had most hoped and desired? +It was a long letter, and I read it through twice to fully comprehend it. +She was a thief! she herself had stolen the money! She knew that her +father must have written me that the money was gone, and she did not wish +to see the blame rest on an innocent person. Her father had been harsher +than usual with her, and, when she would have asserted herself in many +ways, had always referred her to me, telling her that I was the rightful +one to say what might and what might not be: her father had refused to +hear her make mention of the man she had mentioned to me, and had not +recognized her being with him at all. (I could see in this that friend +Hicks had tried more than arbitrary means to reduce his daughter's mind to +the level of his wishes. But to the letter.) How could she, then, she +wrote, tell her father of the taking of the money? She trusted that I +might not think her overly bold, but if I did, it made no difference to +her, for she was rendered desperate on all sides. (Ah, friend Barbara! thy +father had ever such a cold reserve, that was not meant unkindly, but +nevertheless was overly severe.) She could trust me, for it was my own +money she had taken. (I bethink me it was but an odd trust at best.) She +had taken the money to send to the man she cared so much for: he was a +very poor man, and the congregation of which he was the hired preacher was +poor; and as they had built a church which they could not afford to pay +for, it was but in reason that they could not pay the minister of the +church. The church was what the world's people call "a split" from another +church—split because the people quarrelled about the Thirty-nine +Articles, whatever they be, one party wanting thirty-eight or forty, and +the other perhaps the original number. She knew that the minister was +woefully in debt; that no one would trust him any further; that he had +met and told her nothing at all of it; that he was duly polite to her, +and mentioned none of his affairs at all. (O Barbara! how thee shielded +him!) But she had questioned a woman who knew much of him, and the woman +had said that he must have money for a certain secret purpose, the nature +of which purpose the woman refused to tell, and that he was crazed for +money. Barbara had asked the woman if the purpose were a sinful or +shameful purpose, but the answer had been that it was the most holy one a +man could have. Then Barbara had looked upon his white face and knew of +his straits, and had pitied him. It was borne in upon her that she should +help him. "Thee would have felt so, I am assured," she wrote. Then looking +around her, confused by many and conflicting feelings, sad and grieving +for herself, having no one to go to in the greatest trial a woman can +have, she had seen but one thing to do: she called to mind Samuel Biddle, +and how generously he had acted toward her—more generously than she had +reason to suppose another man could ever do. Friend Biddle's letter to her +was couched in such kindly terms that she knew it had been no great +overthrow of feeling on his part to give her the liberty which she had +long debated with herself whether to accept or not; and had finally +concluded to do so. Then she had taken the money from her father's iron +safe. She had sent it anonymously to the man, though she feared that he +suspected from whom it came; and that was the saddest stroke of all, "for, +friend Biddle," she wrote, "I know not if I am anything unto him, but I do +assure thee he is much to me." (Poor friend Barbara! how I pitied thee for +that!)</p> + +<p>This was all of the letter, and I read it through twice.</p> + +<p>I had gotten over my foolish emotion of disappointment, as I have told +thee before this, and I went back to my office and indited a reply to the +epistle immediately. "Let it be as thee has done, and thee may think that +I fully sympathize with thee." That was my only reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span></p> + +<p>And when I thought over the letter—her letter—from beginning to end, all +day long, I did not see that I could have indited a different reply. +Still, when I went home to friend Afton's house, and friend Afton came to +me and told me that friend Jordan had had a more miserable day than ever, +although my sympathy was fully aroused, yet it was with a sense of relief +that I entered my room and closed the door, for I bethought me that I had +much to ponder on. But my thought was interrupted: the poor demented woman +was weeping in her room. She was stormy in her grief, and I heard friend +Afton scolding. I opened my door. "Friend Jordan, is thee grieved?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Quaker," she cried, running to me, "they are all in the sky calling +to me, and this woman will not let me reach them."</p> + +<p>"She would have jumped out," whispered friend Afton, "and I had to nail +down the sash."</p> + +<p>I nodded, and motioned for her to keep quiet. "Does thee think thee would +like to talk to me a while?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Not now, for I only want to talk with them. But tell me, Quaker—tell me +if you want one thing more than any other in this world, and I will ask +them to give it to you. Is there any one that you want to love you? For +they can easily help you, as they have made me love you, and made you be +good to me."</p> + +<p>"Nay, friend," I said, "even the light from the stars cannot make one care +for me who would not."</p> + +<p>Then she cried out that I was sorrowful, and that I made her heart +heavy—I who had always been a comfort and a guidance before.</p> + +<p>"I will be so to thee now," I said.</p> + +<p>"Then give me rest," she cried.</p> + +<p>"The Lord knows I would give thee rest, O soul! if I could."</p> + +<p>She looked at me most suddenly—I may say as a flash—and quickly glanced +in at my room.</p> + +<p>"Then I think I can rest in your room," she said.</p> + +<p>"Thee shall do so."</p> + +<p>Then I put on my hat and prepared to go out, and friend Afton said it was +a relief to have one so obliging in the house.</p> + +<p>"Farewell to thee," I said to friend Jordan.</p> + +<p>She stood inside my doorway and looked at me. "'Come unto Me, all ye that +labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,'" she said, and moved +like a spirit toward me, placed her lips upon my cheek, and went in and +closed the door. It was the first time any woman save my mother had ever +kissed me.</p> + +<p>Those words made me feel that they applied to me, youth is so vain and +exacting even of the Lord's words. Nevertheless, as I went along the dark +streets I heard them ringing in my ears with such a benign meaning as I +never had understood in them before.</p> + +<p>Long I walked the streets, lost in much thought and contemplation, and I +felt what was weakness leaving me, and I deemed how heavy were some yokes +compared to mine—friend Barbara's, for instance, she who must be +surrounded and held in by unsympathizing moods. I fain would have helped +her more than I did, but any further succor only meant a further offering +of my feeling for her, and <i>that</i> she was as powerless to accept as I was +to make her accept it. Long I walked the streets, and had the hopeful, +helping words around and within me. And late in the night I turned my +wearied steps toward friend Afton's, and once more was entering the house, +when, as though an angel—as though the Lord above—had spoken to me from +high overhead, in grave, solemn, holy voice came the words, "Come unto Me, +all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." And I +turned my eyes above as I hope to turn them on the last Vast Day, when +methinks those words may again be spoken and call forth a mighty response. +But what was that white form so far above, even upon the sill of my +window, three stories from the ground? With a great terror grown upon me I +rushed into the street, and saw far up there, far in the night, friend +Jordan standing out in the darkness with hands supplicating the stars,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> +saying those words. This was why she had desired to rest in my room: with +the cunning of insanity, she had known that the windows of her own room +were nailed down, and so on the instant had thought of mine as a possible +means of reaching to her stars. With every limb frozen, it seemed, by +sudden petrification, I had no power to unclose my lips, but I made a +sound like a groan, I know, and then I saw her reach up high, high toward +the sky and give a leap into the air. There came a crash of breaking +glass, and I saw a whirl of white garments far above me that came +fluttering down in a spiral motion. I rushed toward it ere it fell: there +came a sickening thud on the ground beside me, and a lifeless mass lay +there.</p> + +<p>I can scarcely narrate this calmly or well, but thee sees I have tried my +best.</p> + +<p>Then when friend Afton came to me, and in pardonable and much agitation +asked me to write to the friends of the dead woman, I complied, and +directed the letter to the Reverend Richard Jordan; and his address was +the place where friend Hicks sojourned, as likely thee has guessed.</p> + +<p>"What was this man to the deceased? does thee know?" I asked friend Afton.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. He placed her with me a year ago, and asked me to take the best +of care of her, and has always sent me money for her wants, and paid me +well besides. And, strange to say, I never could get her to mention him. +He seemed to be a good man, but poor in his dress—too young in the +profession to get a wealthy 'call.'"</p> + +<p>So the Reverend Richard Jordan, who had cared for this woman, was the man +whom friend Barbara thought well of! This was what the money had been +wanted for—this was the secret which was "neither sinful nor shameful, +but the most holy that a man can have"!</p> + +<p>When he came in at friend Afton's I went to him. "Who was the deceased?" I +asked—most bluntly, I fear me.</p> + +<p>"She was my wife," he said sadly, and so altogether frankly that I knew he +was no guilty man, whatever else he might be.</p> + +<p>"I grieve with thee," I said. "And before thee goes up to thy solemn +office of praying by thy dead wife's side, I would tell thee something. I +met thee—look at me!—months ago, when I almost stumbled against thee +outside of Benjamin Hicks's garden-gate. Thee was new to the place, thee +told me."</p> + +<p>"I remember you," he said, and flushed painfully.</p> + +<p>"Nay, do not redden," I said almost with anger. "I know all things about +thee, and nothing that is harmful."</p> + +<p>"Nor ever has been harm," he said firmly.</p> + +<p>"I know thee has had much money sent to thee, and thee does not know from +whom."</p> + +<p>"I do," he said, "and am ashamed to say I accepted it. It came from your +friend Hicks's daughter, but it was for my poor wife—for her alone. I +could not help myself—I—"</p> + +<p>"Thee has no need of shame for that. The Lord must have made it patent to +thee that we are placed here to help one another. And so much as friend +Hicks's daughter did for thee she did well, and she has my consent; for it +was my money that she sent thee."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, man!" he said, holding his hand to his face, "for I am +nothing to you."</p> + +<p>"And what is Benjamin Hicks's daughter to thee if thee is nothing to me?"</p> + +<p>He looked at me in wonder: "She is to me a good woman who did her benefits +in secret. I never had much conversation with her, for we seldom met; but +she was ever kind, and I heard that she would marry soon. I never talked +much to any one, for my cares have been great to me, and that sorrow up +stairs has been a goodly portion."</p> + +<p>"Go to thy sorrow," I said, "and let it comfort thee, as sorrow should, +that thee did the best thee could."</p> + +<p>Was I cruel in having spoken to him as I had, and at this time?</p> + +<p>Then I wrote all—everything of the past months, of to-day, of the +deceased woman's suffering, of her death, her husband's arrival, and all +that he had said to me. It was a considerably lengthy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> letter, but what of +that? It was for friend Barbara. I sent it at once. Then I must not +neglect my duties here, so I stayed the allotted time, receiving +occasional word from friend Hicks, but none from his daughter.</p> + +<p>I think my mind was much inclined toward the hireling minister, for I +clearly saw, as thee no doubt does, that he never knew what Barbara +thought of him, and that he never could know, for he was a pure man and +the sad husband of a sad wife. And when he would have said words of thanks +to me when he left me I checked him: "Thee knows a Friend is not well +pleased with many words: let the many good deeds which thee will do act as +the many kind words thee would give me."</p> + +<p>"With God's help I will," said he.</p> + +<p>"Verily," I said; "and I bid peace be unto thee!"</p> + +<p>"And unto you, friend!" he said. And the words that had been our first +parting at friend Barbara's father's gate were the words that were our +last as I left him at his wife's grave, from whence he was to go to a +church in a distant city.</p> + +<p>And when the six months were over and I was at liberty to go, I wrote +another letter of a single line to Barbara, and this was it: "I am coming +to thy father's house." That was all, for I thought that maybe she might +not care overly much to greet me, all things considered, and might +peradventure choose to make a trifling visit to her cousin Ann Jones, to +whose house she as often as not went for those changes which most women +much incline toward. Yet when I entered upon the porch of friend Hicks's +house, and Barbara was there, and said, "I am pleased to see thee, friend +Biddle," and her father said, "How does thee do?" altogether as though I +had seen them but a day before, it was most agreeable to my mind and +soothing to my spirit. And when, after the dinner was over, before which +there was little chance at conversation, although I thought I detected a +slight pallor in friend Barbara's face where before the dints had been, +and when she had betaken herself to some place out of sight, and friend +Hicks was beginning to talk upon my loss in his suffering a theft on his +premises, I merely said, "Yea, friend Barbara took the money." Thee should +have seen his face: it must have afforded thee considerable amusement.</p> + +<p>"Barbara?" he said with much difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Yea," I answered. "I know all about it; and she gave it to Richard +Jordan, whom thee thought to frighten me with. He was poor, in need, and +had a wife whom he must care for. I was in the house where his wife was +ever since thee parted with me."</p> + +<p>"Samuel Biddle!"</p> + +<p>"Verily, friend Hicks. And she was a demented woman, whom her husband had +to take good care of, and she relied upon me for such poor comfort as I +could afford her. She is deceased, and it was myself who sent for her +husband. Maybe there was much secrecy which thy daughter and I kept +without thee, but mayhap we did it for the best. And thee must never +inquire anything more about it; and I regret thee had so much concern, and +thank thee for a most kind and generous friend."</p> + +<p>"Samuel Biddle, I deemed that Barbara was not unto thee, nor thee unto +her, as both had been to one another."</p> + +<p>"Thee must be at odds with reason, friend Hicks, for I never have cared +less for Barbara than I did at the first."</p> + +<p>So I told the narrative to him; and although I strictly adhered to the +facts, I bethink me that had I made them a trifle straighter he might not +have comprehended them as he did. But he came to me as I sat there on the +porch, and he laid his hand on my arm: "I have been overly strict with +Barbara, friend Samuel, and thee must pardon me, for I only kept her for +thee. Thee is a good man; and although some of Barbara's and thy doings in +this matter, as thee has related it, are scarcely in accordance with an +understanding of the world such as I have, and such as thee may hope to +have in time, and most of what thee has done is rather removed from +orthodox, yet I hold myself in thy debt."</p> + +<p>Then as I glanced up I saw a face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> looking narrowly from far off in the +hall: I fear me that Barbara must inevitably have heard every word. +However, it was rather warmish weather, and as she came out to the porch +with her knitting in her hands, she looked as though she were grateful to +me; and there were wet rings about her eyes which made me sad to see, and +I remembered the time in the lane, a long while ago, when I had seen just +such rings and stains about her eyes. We spake not a word, and she sat +down on one side of me and her father on the other. As in another time, +friend Hicks put his handkerchief over his face to protect him from the +air—the flies not being come yet—and I scarcely hesitate to say that he +covered his left eye as well as his right. Then I am positive that the +silence grew irksome to me, for I knew not what to think of Barbara's +manner, nor what to say. So I arose and stood on the edge of the porch, +and looked far over the large unbroken landscape, as all early spring +landscapes are. I could not have been there many minutes before a soft +touch made me turn about, and Barbara was beside me, and the rings about +her eyes were wetter than ever.</p> + +<p>"Barbara!" I said softly.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she whispered most gently, glancing toward her father, now balmily +sleeping. "Samuel Biddle, I must thank thee: thee knows what for, so I +need not repeat it. I thank thee, not as I would have thanked thee six +months ago, but as—"</p> + +<p>"As what, Barbara?"</p> + +<p>"As thy wife soon to be, Samuel Biddle."</p> + +<p>I placed her hand in mine. "And thee is not mistaken?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Nay, not mistaken now. I never knew thee till I understood that all men +are not like thee. I never knew thee till I most foolishly thought that a +few words from another man on even trivial subjects meant more than thy +silence of devotion. I learned my own mind in many ways, Samuel, and then +I learned thee; for I had thought thee was in a measure thrust upon me, +and only because I had not seen thee before father's approval of thee. +That other man's care of his wife—a care that kept her affliction from +any and all eyes—showed me what thee was even, and what thee was for me. +I cannot rightly say all that I would, but I can only say this—that I +never cared overly much for thee at first, Samuel Biddle; but Richard +Jordan has taught me one thing, which perhaps no other man in the world +could have done."</p> + +<p>"And that is—?"</p> + +<p>"What love is."</p> + +<p>"Barbara!"</p> + +<p>"Yea, Samuel Biddle, what love is; for I love thee, I love thee, and but +only thee; and might never have told thee so, but I heard what thee said a +spell ago to father, and I knew that thee was not disgusted with me, but +cared for me as much as ever. Yea, a stranger man has taught me what love +is."</p> + +<p>And while I could but pat her head as it rested upon my shoulder, I said +gladly, "Barbara, more than man has taught me what love is, and to love +thee; but maybe a man can teach to woman what the Lord alone has taught to +me."</p> + +<p>"Let me think so, Samuel—that the Lord taught thee, and thee taught me +the knowledge fresh from the Lord."</p> + +<p>Then I placed my lips upon Barbara's lips.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Robert C. Meyers</span>.</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="LADY_MORGAN" id="LADY_MORGAN"></a>LADY MORGAN.</h2></div> + + +<p>With her wit and vanity, poor French and fine clothes, good common sense +and warm Irish heart, Lady Morgan was a most entertaining and original +character—a spirited, versatile, spunky little woman, whose whole life +was a grand social success. She was also one of the most popular and +voluminous writers of her day; but, with all her sparkle and dash, +ambition and industry, destined in a few generations more to be almost +unknown, vanishing down that doleful "back entry" where Time sends so many +bright men and women. As the founder of Irish fiction—for the national +tales of Ireland begin with her—and the patron of Irish song (she +stimulated Lover to write "Rory O'More," and "Kate Kearney" is her own), +always laboring for liberty and the interests of her oppressed countrymen, +and preserving her name absolutely untouched by scandal through a long and +brilliant career, she deserves a place among distinguished women. She +evidently had no idea of being forgotten, and completed twenty chapters of +autobiography—its florid egotism at once its fault and its charm—besides +keeping a diary in later years, and preserving nearly all the letters +written to her, and even cards left at her door. But on those cards were +the names of Humboldt, Cuvier, Talma and the most celebrated men of that +epoch, down to Macaulay, Douglas Jerrold and Edward Everett, while she +could count among her intimates the noted men and women of three +countries. La Fayette declared he was proud to be her friend; Byron +praised her writings, and always expressed regret that he had not made her +acquaintance in Italy; Sydney Smith coupled her name with his own as "the +two Sydneys;" Leigh Hunt celebrated her in verse; Sir Thomas Lawrence, Ary +Scheffer and other famous artists begged for the honor of painting her +portrait. Was it strange after all this, and being told for half a century +that she was an extraordinarily gifted and fascinating woman, that (being +a woman) she should believe it?</p> + +<p>She was extremely sensitive in regard to her age, and if forced to state +it on the witness-stand would doubtless have whispered it to the judge in +a bewitching way, as did a pretty but slightly <i>passé</i> French actress +under similar embarrassing circumstances. She pleads: "What has a woman to +do with dates—cold, false, erroneous, chronological dates—new style, old +style, precession of the equinox, ill-timed calculation of comets long +since due at their station and never come? Her poetical idiosyncrasy, +calculated by epochs, would make the most natural points of reference in +woman's autobiography. Plutarch sets the example of dropping dates in +favor of incidents; and an authority more appropriate, Madame de Genlis, +who began her own memoirs at eighty, swept through nearly an age of +incident and revolution without any reference to vulgar eras signifying +nothing (the times themselves out of joint), testifying to the pleasant +incidents she recounts and the changes she witnessed. <i>I</i> mean to have +none of them!"</p> + +<p>Sydney Owenson was born in "ancient ould Dublin" at Christmas: the year is +a little uncertain. The encyclopædias say about 1780: 1776 has been +suggested as more correct, but we will not pry into so delicate a matter. +A charming woman never loses her youth. Doctor Holmes tells us that in +travelling over the isthmus of life we do not ride in a private carriage, +but in an omnibus—meaning that our ancestors or their traits take the +trip with us; and in studying a character it is interesting to note the +combinations that from generations back make up the individual. Sydney's +father was the child of an ill-assorted marriage. "At a hurling-match long +ago the Queen of Beauty, Sydney, granddaughter of Sir Maltby Crofton, lost +her heart, like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> Rosalind, to the victor of the day, Walter McOwen +(anglicized Owenson), a young farmer, tall and handsome, graceful and +daring, and allowed him to discover that he had 'wrestled well and +overthrown more than his enemies.' Result, an elopement and mésalliance +never to be forgiven—the husband a jolly, racketing Irish lad, unable to +appreciate his high-toned, accomplished wife, a skilful performer on the +Irish harp, a poetess and a genius, called by the admiring neighbors 'the +Harp of the Valley.'" Their only child, the father of Lady Morgan, was a +tolerable actor, of loose morals and tight purse, who could sing a good +song or tell a good story, and who was always in debt.</p> + +<p>Sydney was a winsome little rogue, quite too much for her precise and +stately mother, who was ever holding up as a model a child, in her grave +fifty years agone, who had read the Bible through twice before she was +five years old, and knitted all the stockings worn by the coachmen! All in +vain: Sydney was not fated to die early or figure as a young saint in a +Sunday-school memoir. She took a deep interest in chimney-sweeps from +observing a den of little imps who swarmed in a cellar near her home, and +on one occasion actually scrambled up a burning chimney, followed by this +sooty troop. Her pets were numerous, the prime favorite being a cat named +Ginger, from her yellow coat. Her mother, who was shocked by Sydney adding +to her nightly petition, "God bless Ginger the cat!" did not share this +partiality, as is seen in the young lady's first attempt at authorship, +which has been preserved:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dear pussy-cat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were I a mouse or a rat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sure I never would run off from you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You're <i>so</i> funny and gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With your tail when you play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And no song is so sweet as your mew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But pray keep in your press,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And don't make a mess,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When you share with your kittens our posset,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For mamma can't abide you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I cannot hide you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless you keep close in your closet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Her voice was remarkable, but her father, knowing too well the +temptations that beset a public singer, refused to cultivate her talent +for music, saying, "If I were to do this, it might induce her some day to +go on the stage, and I would prefer to buy her a sieve of black cockles +from Ring's End to cry about the streets of Dublin to seeing her the first +prima donna of Europe." A genuine talent for music will assert itself in +spite of neglect, and one evening at the house of Moore, where with her +sister Olivia she listened in tearful enthusiasm to some of his melodies, +sung as only the poet could sing them, was an important event in her life. +She tells us that after this treat they went home in almost delirious +ecstasy, actually forgetting to undress themselves before going to bed. +This experience developed a longing to know more of the early Irish +ballads, and roused a literary ambition. If the grocer's son could so +distinguish himself, she could surely relieve her dear father from his +embarrassments; and she began at once to write with this noble object. Her +unselfish and unwavering devotion to her rather worthless father is the +most attractive and touching point in her character. After her mother's +death she was sent to boarding-school, where she studied well, scribbled +verses, accomplished herself in dancing, and furnished bright home-letters +for her less brilliant mates.</p> + +<p>She next figures as a governess in the family of a Mrs. Featherstone of +Bracklin Castle. There was a merry dance for adieu the night she was to +leave, but, like Cinderella, she danced too long: the hour sounded, and +Sydney was hurried into the coach in a white muslin dress, pink silk +stockings and slippers of the same hue, while Molly, the faithful old +servant, insisted on wrapping her darling in her own warm cloak and +ungainly headgear. Being ushered in this plight into a handsome +drawing-room, there was a general titter at her grotesque appearance, but +she told her story in her own captivating way until they screamed with +laughter—not at her now, but with her—and she was "carried off to an +exquisite suite of rooms—a study, bedroom and bath-room, with a roaring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span> +turf fire, open piano and lots of books;" and after dinner, where she was +toasted, she sang several songs, which had an immense effect, and the +evening ended with a jig, her hosts regretting that they had no spectators +besides the servants. This, her first jig out of the school-room, she +contrasts with her last one in public, when invited by the duchess of +Northumberland to dance with Lord George Hill. She accepted the challenge +from the two best jig-dancers in the country, Lord George and Sir Philip +Crampton, and had the triumph of flooring them both.</p> + +<p>Her first novel, <i>St. Clair</i>, was now completed. She had kept the writing +of it a profound secret, and one morning the young author, full of +ambitious dreams, borrowed the cook's market-bonnet and cloak and sallied +out to seek her fortune. Before going far she saw over a shop-door "T. +Smith, Printer and Bookseller," and ventured in. It was some minutes +before T. Smith made his appearance, and when he did so he had a razor in +one hand, a towel in the other, and only one side of his face shaved. +After hearing her errand he told her, good-naturedly, that he did not +publish novels, and sent her to Brown. Brown wanted his breakfast, and was +not anxious for a girl's manuscript; but his wife persuaded him to promise +to look it over; and, elated with success, Sydney ran back, forgetting to +leave any address, and never heard of her first venture till, taking up a +book in a friend's parlor, it proved to be her own. It had a good sale, +and was translated into German, with a biographical notice which stated +that the young author had strangled herself with an embroidered +handkerchief in an agony of despair and unrequited love. <i>The Sorrows of +Werther</i> was her model, but with a deal of stuff and sentimentality there +was the promise of better things. "In all her early works her characters +indulge in wonderful digressions, historical, astronomical and +metaphysical, in the midst of terrible emergencies where danger, despair +and unspeakable catastrophes are imminent and impending. No matter what +laceration of their finest feelings they may be suffering, they always +have their learning at command, and never fail to make quotations from +favorite authors appropriate to the occasion."</p> + +<p><i>The Novice of St. Dominick</i> was Miss Owenson's second novel, and she went +alone to London to make arrangements for its publication. In those days a +journey from Ireland to that great city was no small undertaking, and when +the coach drove into the yard of the Swan with Two Necks the enterprising +young lady was utterly exhausted, and, seating herself on her little trunk +in the inn-yard, fell fast asleep. But, as usual, she found friends, and +good luck was on her side. The novel was cut down from six volumes to +four, and with her first literary earnings, after assisting her father, +she bought an Irish harp and a black mode cloak, being always devoted to +music and dress. At this time her strongest ambition was to be every inch +a woman. She gave up serious studies, to which she had applied herself, +and cultivated even music as a mere accomplishment, fearful lest she +should be considered a pedant or an artiste.</p> + +<p>Next came <i>The Wild Irish Girl</i>, her first national story, which gave her +more than a national fame, and three hundred pounds from her fascinated +publisher. It contains much curious information about the antiquities and +social condition of Ireland, and a passionate pleading against the wrongs +of its people. It made the piquant little governess all the rage in +fashionable society, and until her marriage she was known by the name of +her heroine, Glorvina. As a story the book is not worth reading at the +present day.</p> + +<p>In <i>The Book of the Boudoir</i>, a sort of literary ragbag, she gives, under +the heading "My First Rout in London," a graphic picture of an evening at +Lady Cork's: "A few days after my arrival in London, and while my little +book, <i>The Wild Irish Girl</i>, was running rapidly through successive +editions, I was presented to the countess-dowager of Cork, and invited to +a rout at her fantastic and pretty mansion in New<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span> Burlington street. Oh, +how her Irish historical name tingled in my ears and seized on my +imagination, reminding me of her great ancestor, 'the father of chemistry +and uncle to the earl of Cork'! I stepped into my job carriage at the hour +of ten, and, all alone by myself, as the song says, 'to Eden took my +solitary way.' What added to my fears and doubts and hopes and +embarrassments was a note from my noble hostess received at the moment of +departure: 'Everybody has been invited expressly to meet the Wild Irish +Girl; so she must bring her Irish harp. M.C.O.' I arrived at New +Burlington street without my harp and with a beating heart, and I heard +the high-sounding titles of princes and ambassadors and dukes and +duchesses announced long before my poor plebeian name puzzled the porter +and was bandied from footman to footman. As I ascended the marble stairs +with their gilt balustrade, I was agitated by emotions similar to those +which drew from a frightened countryman his frank exclamation in the heat +of the battle of Vittoria: 'Oh, jabbers! I wish some of my greatest +enemies was kicking me down Dame street.' Lady Cork met me at the door: +'What! no harp, Glorvina?'—'Oh, Lady Cork!'—'Oh, Lady Fiddlestick! You +are a fool, child: you don't know your own interests.—Here, James, +William, Thomas! send one of the chairmen to Stanhope street for Miss +Owenson's harp.'"</p> + +<p>After a stand and a stare of some seconds at a strikingly sullen-looking, +handsome creature who stood alone, and whom she heard addressed by a +pretty sprite of fashion with a "How-do, Lord Byron?" she says: "I was +pushed on, and on reaching the centre of the conservatory I found myself +suddenly pounced upon a sort of rustic seat, a very uneasy pre-eminence, +and there I sat, the lioness of the night, shown off like the hyena of +Exeter 'Change, looking almost as wild and feeling quite as savage. +Presenting me to each and all of the splendid crowd which an idle +curiosity, easily excited and as soon satisfied, had gathered round us, +she prefaced every introduction with a little exordium which seemed to +amuse every one but its object: 'Lord Erskine, this is the Wild Irish Girl +whom you are so anxious to know. I assure you she talks quite as well as +she writes.—Now, my dear, do tell my Lord Erskine some of those Irish +stories you told us the other evening. Fancy yourself among your own set, +and take off the brogue. Mrs. Abingdon says you would make a famous +actress: she does indeed. You must play the short-armed orator with her: +she will be here by and by. This is the duchess of St. Albans: she has +your novel by heart. Where is Sheridan?—Do, my dear Mr. T—— (This is +Mr. T——, my dear: geniuses should know each other)—do, my <i>dear</i> Mr. +T——, find me Mr. Sheridan. Oh! here he is!—What! you know each other +already? So much the better.—This is Lord Carysford.—Mr. Lewis, do come +forward.—That is Monk Lewis, my dear, of whom you have heard so much, but +you must not read his works: they are very naughty.' Lewis, who stood +staring at me through his eye-glasses, backed out after this remark, and +disappeared. 'You know Mr. Gell,' her ladyship continued, 'so I need not +introduce you: he calls you the Irish Corinne. Your friend Mr. Moore will +be here by and by: I have collected all the talent for you.—Do see, +somebody, if Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons are come yet, and find me Lady +Hamilton.—<i>Now</i>, pray tell us the scene at the Irish baronet's in the +rebellion.'</p> + +<p>"Lord L—— volunteered his services. The circle now began to widen—wits, +warriors, peers and ministers of state. The harp was brought forward, and +I tried to sing, but my howl was funereal. I was ready to cry, but +endeavored to laugh, and to cover my real timidity by an affected ease +which was both awkward and impolitic. At last Mr. Kemble was announced. +Lady Cork reproached him as the <i>late</i> Mr. Kemble, and then, looking +significantly at me, told him who I was. Kemble acknowledged me by a +kindly nod, but the stare which succeeded was not one of mere recognition: +it was the glazed, fixed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> look so common to those who have been making +libations to altars which rarely qualify them for ladies' society. Mr. +Kemble was evidently much preoccupied and a little exalted. He was seated +my <i>vis-à-vis</i> at supper, and repeatedly raised his arm and stretched it +across the table for the purpose, as I supposed, of helping himself to +some boar's head in jelly. Alas! no! The <i>bore</i> was that <i>my</i> head +happened to be the object which fixed his tenacious attention, which, +dark, cropped and curly, struck him as a particularly well-organized +<i>brutus</i>, and better than any in his repertoire of theatrical perukes. +Succeeding at last in his feline and fixed purpose, he actually stuck his +claws in my locks, and, addressing me in the deepest sepulchral tones, +asked, 'Little girl, where did you get your wig?' Lord Erskine came to the +rescue and liberated my head, and all tried to retrieve the awkwardness of +the scene. Meanwhile, Kemble, peevish, as half-tipsy people generally are, +drew back muttering and fumbling in his pocket, evidently with some dire +intent lowering in his eyes. To the amusement of all, and to my increased +consternation, he drew forth a volume of the <i>Wild Irish Girl</i>, and +reading with his deep, emphatic voice one of the most high-flown of its +passages, he paused, and patting the page with his fore finger, with the +look of Hamlet addressing Polonius, he said, 'Little girl, why did you +write such nonsense? and where did you get all those damned hard words?' +Thus taken by surprise, and smarting with my wounds of mortified +authorship, I answered unwittingly and witlessly the truth: 'Sir, I wrote +as well as I could, and I got the hard words from—Johnson's Dictionary.' +He was soon carried off to prevent any more attacks on my head, inside or +out."</p> + +<p>Glorvina was now very much the fashion, visiting in the best Dublin +society and making many friends, whom she had the tact to retain through +life. When articles of dress or ornament are named for one, it is an +unfailing sign that they have attained notoriety, if not fame, and the +bodkin used for fastening the "back hair" was called "Glorvina" in her +honor. Like many attractive women of decided character, she had her full +share of faults and foibles. Superficial, conceited, sadly lacking in +spirituality and refinement, a cruel enemy, a toady to titles, a blind +partisan of the Liberal party,—that is her picture in shadow. Her style +was open to severe criticism, and Richard Lovell Edgeworth suggests mildly +that Maria, in reading her novel aloud in the family circle, was obliged +to omit some superfluous epithets.</p> + +<p>In this first flush of celebrity she never gave up work, holding fast to +industry as her sheet-anchor. Soon appeared two volumes of patriotic +tales. <i>Ida of Athens</i> was Novel No. 3, but written in confident haste, +and not well received. The names of her books would make a list rivalling +that of the loves of Don Giovanni (nearly seventy volumes), and any +extended analysis or criticism would be impossible in this rapid sketch. +"Every day in my life is a leaf in my book" was a motto literally carried +out, and she tried almost every department of literature, succeeding best +in describing the broad characteristics of her own nation. "Her lovers, +like her books, were too numerous to mention," yet her own heart seemed +untouched. She coquetted gayly, but her adorers were always the sufferers.</p> + +<p>Sir Jonah Barrington wrote her at this time a complimentary and witty +letter, in which he says of her heroine Glorvina, "I believe you stole a +spark from heaven to give animation to your idol." He thought the +inferiority of <i>Ida</i> was owing to its author's luxurious surroundings. "I +cannot conceive why the brain should not get fat and unwieldy, as well as +any other part of the human frame. Some of our best poets have written in +paroxysms of hunger, and I really believe that Addison would have had more +point if he had had less victuals; and if you do not restrict yourself to +a sheep's trotter and spruce beer, your style will betray your luxury." +But soon came an increase of the very thing feared for her fame, in the +form of an invitation from Lady Abercorn and the marquis to pass the +chief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> part of every year with them. This was accepted, and thus she met +her fate. Lord Abercorn kept a physician in his house, Doctor Morgan, a +handsome, accomplished widower, whom the marchioness was anxious to +provide with a second wife. She had fixed upon Sydney as a suitable +person, but the retiring and reticent doctor had heard so much of her wit, +talents and general fascination that he disliked the idea of meeting her. +He was sitting one morning with the marchioness when a servant threw open +the door, announcing "Miss Owenson," who had just arrived. Doctor Morgan +sprang to his feet, and, there being no other way of escape, leaped +through the open window into the garden below. This was too fair a +challenge for a girl of spirit to refuse, and she set to work to captivate +him, succeeding more effectually than she desired, for she had dreamed of +making a brilliant match. Soon a letter was written to her father asking +his leave to marry the conquered doctor, yet she does not seem to have +been one bit in love. He was too grave and good, though as devoted a lover +as could be asked for. It was a queer match and a dangerous experiment, +but after a while their mutual qualities adjusted themselves. He kept her +steady, and she roused him from indolent repose. As a critic of that time +says: "She was as bustling, restless, energetic and pushing as he was +modest, retiring and unaffected." Lover gives this picture of them: "There +was Lady Morgan, with her irrepressible vivacity, her humor that indulged +in the most audacious illustrations, and her candor which had small +respect for time or place in its expression, and who, by the side of her +tranquil, steady, contemplative husband, suggested the notion of a Barbary +colt harnessed to a patient English draught-horse."</p> + +<p>She had a certain light, jaunty air peculiarly Irish, celebrated by Leigh +Hunt in verses which embody a faithful portrait:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And dear Lady Morgan, see, see where she comes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her pulses all beating for freedom like drums,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So Irish, so modish, so mixtish, so wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So committing herself, as she talks, like a child;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So trim, yet so easy, polite, yet high-hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Truth and she, try all she can, won't be parted.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'll put on your fashions, your latest new air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then talk so frankly, she'll make you all stare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mrs. Hall may say "Oh!" and Miss Edgeworth say "Fie!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my lady will know the what and the why.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her books, a like mixture, are so very clever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Jove himself swore he could read them for ever,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plot, character, freakishness, all are so good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the heroine herself playing tricks in a hood.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After a happy year with her patrons Glorvina married and moved to a home +of her own in Kildare street, Dublin, whence she writes to Lady Stanley: +"With respect to authorship, I fear it is over. I have been making +chair-covers instead of periods, hanging curtains instead of raising +systems, and cheapening pots and pans instead of selling sentiment and +philosophy." But even during this first busy year of housekeeping she was +working upon <i>O'Donnel</i>, another national tale, for which she was paid +five hundred and fifty pounds. It was highly praised by Sir Walter Scott, +and sold with rapidity, but her Liberal politics made her unpopular with +the leading Tory journalism of England. In point of pitiless invective the +criticism of the <i>Quarterly</i> and <i>Blackwood</i> has perhaps never been +exceeded. Her books were denounced as pestilent, and the public advised +against maintaining her acquaintance. Miss Martineau, an impartial critic, +if impartiality consists in punching almost every one she passed, did not +fail to give our heroine a black eye, speaking of her as "in that set to +which Mrs. Jameson belonged, who make women blush and men grow insolent."</p> + +<p>Sir Charles and his wife next visited Paris with the intention of writing +a book. Their letters carried them into every circle of Parisian society, +and in each the popularity of Lady Morgan was unbounded. Madame Jerome +Bonaparte wrote to her: "The French admire you more than any one who has +appeared here since the battle of Waterloo in the form of an +Englishwoman." When <i>France</i> appeared the clamor of abuse in England was +enough to appall a very stout heart. John Wilson Croker was one of her +most bitter assailants, and attempted to annihilate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> her in the +<i>Quarterly</i>. She balanced matters by caricaturing him as "Counsellor +Crawley" in her next novel, in a way that hit and hurt, and by a witticism +which lives, while his envenomed sentences are forgotten. Some one was +telling her that Croker was among the crowd who thought they could have +managed the battle of Waterloo much better than Wellington, whose success, +in their estimation, was only a fortunate mistake. She exclaimed, "Oh, I +can believe it. He had his secret for winning the battle: he had only to +put his <i>Notes on Boswell's Johnson</i> in front of the British lines, and +all the Bonapartes that ever existed <i>could never have got through them</i>!" +Maginn, in <i>Blackwood</i>, gave unmerciful cuts at her superficial opinions, +ultra sentiments and chambermaid French. <i>Fraser's Magazine</i> complimented +her sardonically on her simple style, being happy to observe that she had +reduced the number of languages used, as the Sibyl did her books, to +three, wisely discarding German, Spanish, the dead and Oriental languages. +But she received the cannonade, which would have crushed some women, with +perfect equanimity. As a compensation, she was the toast of the day, and +at some grand reception had a raised dais only a little lower than that +provided for the duchess de Berri. At a dinner at Baron Rothschild's, +Carême, the Delmonico of those times, surprised her with a column of +ingenious confectionery architecture on which was inscribed her name spun +in sugar. It was a more equivocal compliment when Walter Scott christened +two pet donkeys Hannah More and Lady Morgan.</p> + +<p><i>Florence Macarthy</i>, another novel, attacking the social and political +abuses in Irish government, was her next work. Colburn, her publisher, who +had just presented her with a beautiful parure of amethysts, now proposed +that she and her husband should go to Italy. "Do it, and get up another +book—the lively lady to sketch men and manners, the metaphysical +balance-wheel contributing the solid chapters on laws, politics, science +and education." They accepted the offer, and received the same +extraordinary attentions as in their former tour. This may be accounted +for by the fact that it was well known that they were to prepare a book on +Italy. It was equally well known that Lady Morgan had a sharp tongue and +still sharper pen; so that people who lived in glass houses, as did many +of the magnates, were remarkably civil to "Miladi," even those who +regarded her tour among them as an unjustifiable invasion. Byron +pronounced this book an excellent and fearless work. During her sojourn in +Italy Lady Morgan became enthusiastic about Salvator Rosa, and began to +collect material for writing the history of his life and times, which was +her own favorite of all her writings.</p> + +<p>In 1825 the <i>Diary</i> is started, chatty, full of gossip and incident. She +writes, October 30th: "A ballad-singer was this morning singing beneath my +window in a strain most unmusical and melancholy. My own name caught my +ear, and I sent Thomas out to buy the song. Here is a stanza:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Och, Dublin City, there's no doubting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bates every city upon the say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis there you'll hear O'Connell spouting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Lady Morgan making tay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'tis the capital of the foinest nation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wid charming pisantry on a fruitful sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fighting like divils for conciliation,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An' hating one another for the love o' God."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>The O'Briens and O'Flahertys</i> was published in 1827, and proved more +popular than any of her previous novels. There is an allusion to it in the +interesting account which Lord Albemarle gives us of his acquaintance with +Lady Morgan: "A number of pleasant people used to assemble of an evening +in Lady Morgan's 'nut-shell' in Kildare street. When I first met her she +was in the height of her popularity. In her new novel she tells me I am to +figure as a certain count, a great traveller who made a trip to Jerusalem +for the sole object of eating artichokes in their native country. The +chief attraction in the Kildare street 'at homes' was her sister Olivia +(Lady Clark), who used to compose and sing charming Irish songs, for the +most part squibs on the Dublin society of the day. One of the verses ran +thus:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We're swarming alive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like bees in a hive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With talent and janius and beautiful ladies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We've a duke in Kildare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a Donnybrook Fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if that wouldn't plaze, why nothing would plaze yez.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We've poets in plenty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not one in twenty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will stay in ould Ireland to keep her from sinking:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They say they can't live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where there's nothing to give.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Och, what business have poets with ating or dhrinking?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Justly proud of her sister, Lady Morgan was in the habit of addressing +every new-comer with, "I must make you acquainted with my Livy." She once +used this form of words to a gentleman who had just been worsted in a +fierce encounter of wit with the fascinating lady. "Yes, madam," he +replied, "I happen to know your Livy, and I only wish 'your Livy' was +<i>Tacitus</i>."</p> + +<p>Few of Lady Morgan's bon-mots have been preserved, but one is given which +shows that she occasionally indulged in a pun. Some one, speaking of a +certain bishop who was rather lax in his observance of Lent, said he +believed he would eat a horse on Ash-Wednesday. "Very suitable diet," +remarked her ladyship, "if it were a <i>fast</i> horse."</p> + +<p>The <i>Diary</i> progresses slowly by fitful jerks. Here is a characteristic +entry: "<i>April 3, 1834.</i> My journal is gone to the dogs. I am so fussed +and fidgeted by my dear, charming world that I cannot write: I forget days +and dates. Ouf! Last night, at Lady Stepney's, met the Milmans, Mrs. +Norton, Rogers, Sydney Smith and others—among them poor, dear Jane +Porter. She told me she was taken for me the other night, and talked to as +such by a party of Americans! <i>She</i> is tall, lank and lean and +lackadaisical, dressed in the deepest black, with rather a battered black +gauze hat and the air of a regular Melpomene. <i>I</i> am the reverse of all +this, and without vanity the best-dressed woman wherever I go. Last night +I wore a blue satin trimmed fully with magnificent point lace—light-blue +velvet hat and feather, with an aigrette of sapphires and diamonds. Voilà! +Lord Jeffrey came up to me, and we had <i>such</i> a flirtation! When he comes +to Ireland we are to go to Donnybrook Fair together: in short, having cut +me down with his tomahawk as a reviewer, he smothers me with roses as a +man. I always say of my enemies before we meet, 'Let me at them!'" Of the +same soirée she writes again: "There was Miss Jane Porter, looking like a +shabby canoness. There was Mrs. Somerville in an astronomical cap. I +dashed in in my blue satin and point lace, and showed them how an +authoress should dress."</p> + +<p>Her conceit was fairly colossal. The reforms in legislation for Ireland +were, in her estimation, owing to her novel of <i>Florence Macarthy</i>. She +professed to have taught Taglioni the Irish jig: of her toilette, made +largely by her own hands, she was comically vain. In <i>The Fraserians</i>, a +charming off-hand description of the contributors to that magazine, Lady +Morgan is depicted trying on a big, showy bonnet before a mirror with a +funny mixture of satisfaction and anxiety as to the effect.</p> + +<p>Chorley, the feared and fearless critic of the <i>Athenæum</i>, speaks of Lady +Morgan as one of the most peculiar and original literary characters he +ever met. After a long and searching analysis he adds: "However free in +speech, she never shocked decorum—never had to be appealed or apologized +for as a forlorn woman of genius under difficulties."</p> + +<p>An American paper, the <i>Boston Literary Gazette</i>, gave a personal +description which was not sufficiently flattering, and roused the lady's +indignant comments. It dared to state that she was "short, with a broad +face, blue, inexpressive eyes, and seemed, if such a thing may be named, +about forty years of age." Imagine the sensations this paragraph produced! +She at once retorted, exclaiming in mock earnest, "I appeal! I appeal to +the Titian of his age and country—I appeal to you, Sir Thomas Lawrence. +Would you have painted a short, squat, broad-faced, inexpressive, +affected, Frenchified, Greenland-seal-like lady of any age? Would any +money have tempted you to profane your immortal pencil, consecrated by +Nature to the Graces, by devoting its magic to such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> a model as this +described by the Yankee artist of the <i>Boston Literary</i>? And yet you did +paint the picture of this Lapland Venus—this impersonation of a Dublin +Bay codfish!... Alas! no one could have said that I was forty then; and +this is the cruelest cut of all! Had it been thirty-nine or fifty! +Thirty-nine is still under the mark, and fifty so far beyond it, so +hopeless; but forty—the critical age, the Rubicon—I cannot, will not, +dwell on it. But, O America! land of my devotion and my idolatry! is it +from <i>you</i> the blow has come? Let <i>Quarterlys</i> and <i>Blackwoods</i> libel, but +the <i>Boston Literary</i>! Et tu Brute!"</p> + +<p>In 1837 she received a pension of three hundred pounds a year in +recognition of her literary merits. In 1839 she published a book entitled +<i>Woman and her Master</i>, as solid and solemn and dull as if our vivacious +friend had put herself into a strait-jacket and swallowed a dose of starch +and valerian.</p> + +<p>The closing chapter of any life must of necessity be sad, friends falling +to the grave like autumn leaves. First her beloved husband died, then her +darling sister Olivia; and her journal she now calls her "Doomsday Book." +Yet in 1850 she thoroughly enjoyed a sharp pen-encounter with Cardinal +Wiseman on a statement about St. Peter's chair made in her work on Italy. +She writes: "Lots of notes and notices of my letter to Cardinal Wiseman. +It has had the run of all the newspapers. The little old woman lives +still." December 25, 1858, was her last birthday. She assembled a few old +friends at dinner, and did the honors with all the brilliancy of her +brightest days. She told a variety of anecdotes with infinite drollery, +and after dinner sang a broadly comic song of Father Prout's—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night before Larry was stretched,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boys they all paid him a visit.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was a custom in Ireland to "wake" a man who was to be hung, the night +before the execution, so that the poor fellow might enjoy the whiskey +drunk in his honor. There was one book more, "positively the last," but +she never gave up her pen, "her worn-out stump of a goosequill," until her +physician literally took it from her feeble fingers. She had grown old +gracefully, showing great kindness to young authors, enduring partial +blindness and comparative neglect with true dignity and cheerfulness, her +heart always young. She met death patiently and with unfailing courage on +the evening of the 16th of April, 1859.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Kate A. Sanborn.</span></p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="A_COMPARISON" id="A_COMPARISON"></a>A COMPARISON.</h2></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I think, ofttimes, that lives of men may be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Likened to wandering winds that come and go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not knowing whence they rise, whither they blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the vast globe, voiceful of grief or glee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some lives are buoyant zephyrs sporting free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In tropic sunshine; some long winds of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shun the day, wailing with murmurs low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through haunted twilights, by the unresting sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Others are ruthless, stormful, drunk with might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of deep passion or malign desire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They rave 'mid thunder-peals and clouds of fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild, reckless all, save that some power unknown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Guides each blind force till life be overblown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost in vague hollows of the fathomless Night.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Paul H. Hayne.</span></p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="THROUGH_WINDING_WAYS" id="THROUGH_WINDING_WAYS"></a>THROUGH WINDING WAYS.</h2></div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + + +<p>No boy with the ordinary sources of pleasurable activity open to him can +realize the gloom and despondency I felt at times when cut off from the +healthful energies of other men. I was no longer morbid; I would not allow +myself to feel that my infirmity was a bar to the enjoyment of life; yet, +all the same, I dreaded society and shrank from the fresh conviction of +inferiority I was certain to experience in going out with Harry, who was +strongest where I was so weak. He was the most delightful fellow in +society that I have ever seen. He comprehended everybody and everything +with the grasp of an ardent and sympathetic spirit. He was happy in +possessing a natural facility for pleasing women of all ages and all +degrees. The professors' wives and daughters were all in love with him: +his rooms were full of the work of white hands. He had as many +smoking-caps as there are days in the week, and might have fitted out the +entire class with slippers. But nobody wondered: he was so handsome and +tall and godlike that every woman believed in him, and felt the charm of +his grand manner, which put romance and chivalry into the act of helping +her over a puddle.</p> + +<p>I probably felt more reverence for the meanest woman we met in the street +than he did for his grandest friend in society; but, nevertheless, his +splendid courtesy illuminated the slightest social duty, whereas I stood +rayless beside him. He had been unlucky where his mother was concerned: +she was a weak woman to begin with, had never loved her husband, and had +left him for another man, whom she married after the disgrace and sorrow +she caused had killed her boy's father. Harry never spoke of this, but, +perhaps unconsciously to himself, it had changed the feeling he might have +had toward women into something defiant and cynical; and the attraction +they possessed for him was in danger of becoming debased, since he admired +them, old and young, with too scanty a respect, and believed too little in +the worth of any emotion they awoke in his heart or mind.</p> + +<p>It had been a matter of discussion between Harry and myself whether we +should attend Mrs. Dwight's party. But Jack had peremptory orders to bring +us both, and of course when the evening came we went. I had not seen +Georgy Lenox since the visit she had paid me a few months after my +accident, and I had often told myself that I wished never to see her any +more. Yet now that I was again near her I was eager to meet and talk with +her. I had often felt myself superior to other fellows of my age on +account of this very experience of living down a passion; but since I had +received her note I might have known that my experience had done little +for me—that I had merely been removed from temptation; for, school myself +as I might, my blood was leaping in my veins at the thought of looking +into her eyes again. One cannot be twenty and be wise at the same time. +But then in some matters a man is never wise, let his age be what it may.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dwight's parlors were long and spacious and splendidly furnished. +They were well filled too before we entered, for we were so anxious to do +the most truly elegant thing to-night that we had put off making our +appearance until long past ten o'clock. Whatever expectations we may have +had of making a sensation in the rooms were considerably damped by the +awkwardness of our début. Jack knew the house, and at once skirted the +crowd to find what he wanted, but Harry and I were obliged to stand still +in a corner, ignorant of everything save the name of our hostess, waiting +for something to turn up. The ordeal was not so disagreeable as it might +seem. The band played in the alcove,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span> the women were well dressed and, to +our eyes, radiantly beautiful, while the men appealed to our critical +curiosity. Plenty of our college dons were there, and many of the leading +men of the day, but more interesting to us were the perfectly-dressed, +graceful society-men a little beyond our own age: these we watched +carefully, with the superior air of contempt with which every man of every +age views the social success of others; yet we envied them nevertheless. +In one of these we simultaneously recognized an old friend, and exclaimed +together, "If there isn't Thorpe!"</p> + +<p>And Thorpe indeed it was, better dressed, handsomer, more consummately the +finished man of the world, than ever. He was conversing with a stout, +elderly lady with gray puffs stiffly fixed on her temples and white +feathers in her braids, who was discoursing fluently to him on some +subject in which he seemed profoundly interested. Suddenly, however, his +eyes dilated and his face gained expression: he had met my eyes and nodded +with a half smile, and within five minutes he had adroitly bestowed the +old lady in an easy-chair and planted three professors before her, and was +shaking hands with us. We were rather proud of the exhibition of pleasure +he made at the encounter. True, it was languid and there was an air of +amused condescension in the way he accepted our cordial greetings; but we +were still boyish enough to like to feel him above and beyond us, although +not unattainable.</p> + +<p>"Well, old fellow," he remarked presently to Harry, "why are you penned up +here? Is it as sheep or wolves that you are kept out of the fold? Why +aren't you dancing?"</p> + +<p>"We only just came in," returned Harry, "and we don't know the hostess by +sight, and have nobody to speak to."</p> + +<p>"Why, that was Mrs. Dwight I was talking with just now.—A terrible old +woman, Floyd: I will introduce you presently, as soon as that crowd clears +away. I understand you came by invitation from Miss Lenox. Seen her?"</p> + +<p>We had seen nobody, we were obliged to confess.</p> + +<p>"Miss Georgy is having a good time. I put in my claim as an old Belfield +friend for a couple of waltzes. She has the best pace of any woman here. +Handsome girl, but dangerous: devilish amusing, though. Wonder where she +got her ideas in that cramped, puritanical little place? Pity she's going +to marry such a slow coach as Jack Holt! Beg your pardon—nothing +derogatory intended. You must yourself admit that he is rather slow.—By +the by, Floyd, how's the heiress?"</p> + +<p>I knew whom he meant, but did not like his tone, and asked him squarely to +whom he referred.</p> + +<p>He laughed, and looked at me with close scrutiny. "I alluded to Miss +Floyd," said he, twisting his long moustache with his gloved fingers. "I +don't know many heiresses myself, unlucky dog that I am! and she is such a +tremendous one—she is <i>the</i> heiress <i>par éminence</i>. She must be fifteen +by this time. Remember me to her when you see her, Floyd; or perhaps you +write to her?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Is she as pretty as ever?" he pursued.</p> + +<p>"Pretty? She never seemed to me pretty."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are too young to recognize beauty when you see it. She was the +loveliest child I ever knew, with her pale complexion, her brilliant eyes +and aristocratic profile. Georgy Lenox is a gaudy transparency beside her. +But I forgot: I must come out and see you at your rooms. Only don't bore +me: it is the fashion at universities to talk of subjects never discussed +anywhere else by civilized beings, and I can't abide such rubbish. I hear +you're quite the pride of your class, Floyd?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what wretched nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Your modesty pleases me.—Come on, boys: Mrs. Dwight is looking at us."</p> + +<p>And we were introduced to our hostess at last, who received us in a manner +expressive of our social insignificance. "Dear me!" said she placidly, +"have you just come in? You're very late. I supposed everybody was here +long ago. Georgy asked my permission to invite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span> some students: I never do +that sort of thing myself. There is really no end to it, you know. +Besides, I suppose your time is quite taken up with your studies and your +boating and your flirtations. Do you dance?—There's Georgy Lenox +beckoning to you, Mr. Dart." Harry darted off, and was lost in the crowd +before I had a chance to follow him with my eyes, for Mrs. Dwight, feeling +the need of support or wishing to be guided into another room, had put her +arm within mine, thus compelling my attention. Her conversation still +continued in a steady stream. It had occurred to her that I was in some +way connected with Mr. Floyd, whose reputation was national, and she went +on reviving reminiscences of him while we strolled about. She addressed me +with such unhesitating talkativeness that I succumbed at once, and became +an easy prey. What she said was quite uninteresting, besides being +rambling in a degree which hindered my getting the smallest idea of her +meaning; but her own enjoyment of her loquaciousness never once faltered, +and she discoursed as fluently as an eighteenth-century poet, and without +any more idea of the grace of finishing within a reasonable time. How I +envied Thorpe's easy method of withdrawing from her attack! how I longed +for some flank movement to draw off her attention! I was weaving futile +plans of escape, when suddenly a radiant creature in blue and white gauze, +the swirl of whose long skirts I had watched as I listened to Mrs. Dwight, +paused in the waltz close beside me, turned, looked me in the face and +patted my arm with her fan. "Floyd!" she cried, "Floyd Randolph! don't you +know me?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dwight vanished, I do not remember how or where. Everybody vanished: +I seemed to be alone in the world staring into Georgy Lenox's face.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Maria had fastened upon you like the Ancient Mariner," prattled +Georgy, laughing. "That is her way. If she fancies a young man, she bears +down upon him, and with one fell swoop carries him off. How melancholy you +looked! But you are as grave as ever now. Aren't you glad to see me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I am glad," I told her, but felt a weight upon my tongue, and +could not find expression for any thoughts which moved me. For, let it be +understood, I was powerfully impressed by her, and in a moment had changed +from what I was before I met her. She talked on rapidly, looking at me +kindly, and doubtless by this time sufficiently understood her power over +our sex to realize that under certain conditions words mean little on a +man's tongue, while silence confesses much. But, counting time by minutes, +I was with her but a very little while before half a dozen partners came +toward her claiming her for a new waltz.</p> + +<p>"Ask me to dance, Floyd," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"I do not dance, Georgy," I returned gravely, and drew back; and presently +she was whirling about again, her flower-crowned head gyrating against +first one black-coated shoulder and then another.</p> + +<p>I saw Jack Holt leaning against a pillar, and went up to him. "How do you +get on, Floyd?" he asked in his slow, easy way. "Rather heavy work, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said I, feeling all the keen joy of youth: "I think it +delightful. Miss Lenox spoke to me, Jack. Of course you have seen her."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," Jack laughed good-naturedly. "She at once told me I looked +countrified and old-fashioned—that my hair was too long and my gloves +were outrageous. In fact, she was ashamed to own me, and declared that +nothing should induce her to confess she was engaged to me until I looked +less seedy."</p> + +<p>We both laughed at this. Jack had a handsome allowance, which he spent +almost entirely upon the girl he loved. She was quite used to his +generosity toward her and self-denial toward himself, and gave him no more +credit for it than the rest of us award to the blessings we count on +assuredly.</p> + +<p>"You don't mind her nonsense, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all. She has such spirits she must chatter. You haven't seen her +for ages, Floyd: do you think her improved? Has she grown handsomer?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was conscious of a dulness and thickness in my voice as I replied, "She +is much handsomer."</p> + +<p>"She is more womanly," pursued Jack: "I think her manner has softened a +little. There is more tenderness about it: as a girl she was sometimes a +trifle—hard. Now—But you see how she is, Floyd: there is nobody like +her. Good God! I ask myself sometimes what that perfect creature can see +in me."</p> + +<p>"A good deal apparently, since she is to be your wife." I said it without +faltering, and felt better after it. Something seemed to clear away from +my brain, and I could look at Georgy now with less emotion. She was all +that was bright and beautiful and winning, but—she was engaged to Jack +Holt. She showed slight consciousness of any restraint on her perfect +freedom, however, and gave away Jack's roses, purchased that day at a high +figure, before his eyes. Once or twice, when she passed us, she smiled and +nodded in the gayest good spirits; and at last, when she was tired of +dancing and wanted an ice, she beckoned to Jack, put her hand inside his +arm and led him into the conservatory.</p> + +<p>"How well she does it!" said Harry Dart, coming up to me. "Quite the +brilliant belle! By Jove! how she dances! I despise the girl with her +greedy maw, and deuced airs of high gentility when she is a perfect +beggar, but it is a second heaven to dance with her. She has the <i>go</i> of a +wild animal in her. She is a little like a panther—so round, so sleek, so +agile in her spring. I told her just now I should like to paint +her—yellow eyes, hair like an aureole, supple form and satin coat—lying +on a panther-skin."</p> + +<p>"Her eyes are not yellow."</p> + +<p>"By Jove! they are. When she's dancing her whole face changes: she looks +dangerous."</p> + +<p>"I don't like your tone when you speak of her, Harry."</p> + +<p>"Oh! don't you? One of these days both you and Jack will be wiser where +that girl is concerned."</p> + +<p>But Jack came back to us presently, quite contented to look at her +successes and not to speak to her again that evening. At supper-time we +watched her from a distance, and a more brilliant young coquette than Miss +Georgy showed herself to be I have never seen. She looked more and more +beautiful as the night wore on, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her +eyes dilating, her hair loosening. Men full fledged though we considered +ourselves now in our senior year, we felt like boys before her. Every man +in the room seemed proud of her slightest mark of attention. Tall dandies +with ineffable composure and a consummate air of worldly knowledge; +tranquil, dreamy-eyed literary men; solid citizens with stiff white +side-whiskers and red faces,—all were in her train. Harry withdrew from +her at last, becoming, as I was, quite oppressed with a sense of his youth +and worthlessness.</p> + +<p>Thorpe good-naturedly came up to us as we three stood leaning against the +wall, tired and depressed, yet feeling no wish to get away until everybody +else had gone, and asked us how we liked it, if we had been introduced, +and all that. It came out then that Jack and I had not once thought of any +woman in the rooms except Georgy; and until Thorpe questioned me it had +not occurred to my mind that there was anything to do at the party but to +speak to Georgy if possible, or, failing that bliss, to watch her from a +distance. Harry laughed at me, and discussed the beauties of the ball with +Thorpe, who was fastidious and considered few girls handsome—in fact, was +so minute in his criticisms that Jack, always more than chivalrous in his +thoughts of women, left us, and with his hands crossed behind him looked +at the pictures on the walls of an inner room quite deserted now. The +conversation turned on Miss Lenox at once, and Thorpe said he was amazed +to find the girl so capable of achieving an easy success and bearing it so +well. "Where," he pursued with his graceful air, "did she learn those +enchanting prettinesses, those wonderful little caprices of manner? Could +they have been acquired in the genteel dreariness of Belfield?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to know," rejoined Harry with disdain, "if she has not +been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span> practising them for twenty years? She flirted with Jack and Floyd +here when they used to buy her a penny's worth of peppermint, before they +were out of petticoats themselves. I dare say she made eyes at old Lenox +when he rocked her in the cradle."</p> + +<p>"And she is going to marry Holt? I suppose she makes the sacrifice on +account of his money. He takes it quietly and doesn't mind her flirting. +Is he cold, insensible, or has he such complete belief in her regard for +him?"</p> + +<p>Harry laughed: "Jack is too good himself not to believe in the goodness of +others. It is just as well. Nobody sees the Devil but those who have faith +in the Devil. I dare say she'll make him as good a wife as he wants: her +aspirations are all for wealth, and her extravagance will be her chief +fault."</p> + +<p>Thorpe shrugged his shoulders. "She will have several faults," said he +with a cynical air. "But I can forgive them all in so pretty a woman, and +admire her immensely as another man's wife."</p> + +<p>Harry declared he saw nothing particular about the girl except her beauty, +and a more unscrupulous resolve to make the most of it and its effect upon +men than other young women had the nerve to adhere to. "But look there!" +he cried: "see old Applegate" (one of our professors) "simpering over her +bouquet and smiling into her eyes. Wretched old mummy! what does he want +to go to parties for?" For we all held the ingenuous opinion that anybody, +man or woman, ten years or more older than ourselves, ought to stay at +home, eschew pleasure and devote their highest powers to keeping out of +the way of the young people to whom the world rightfully belonged.</p> + +<p>But the sight of old Applegate emboldened me. If she would talk so kindly +to him, why might she not give me one more word? I had no awe of the +professor, and had taken an æsthetic tea at his dismal house, and seen a +weak-eyed, sallow Mrs. Applegate and five lank little Applegates. +Accordingly, I limped across the room to the spot where Miss Lenox stood, +and was rewarded by a bright smile and an immediate air of attention. "I +want to talk to Mr. Randolph," said she, claiming her bouquet from the +professor, who regarded me with a bland smile. "He and I are the oldest +friends, but we have not seen each other for years. You won't mind, +professor?"</p> + +<p>He heaved a sigh. "Randolph gets all the prizes," said he good-naturedly: +"it is never of any use competing with him;" and he left us alone.</p> + +<p>I had but five minutes to speak to Georgina, but when I left her she had +made me promise to call on her next day at twelve o'clock.</p> + + + + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + + +<p>"You need not tell Jack," Georgy had said to me when we made the +appointment, with a sudden smile and half blush; but I resisted the +suggestion, and told Jack at breakfast that I should call upon Miss Lenox +at noon.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad!" said he, "for, on my word, I am too busy to go near her in +the daytime. Tell her I should like to have gone with you, but must dig, +dig, dig, or I shall never pass those examinations."</p> + +<p>I have always been glad I was true to Jack in the letter of my actions. As +for the spirit, it is hard for any young fellow of twenty, with ardent +impulses just awakening, to keep it cribbed within prudent limitations. +Georgy's smiles had thrown a sudden illumination into my soul, and I +understood myself better than I had done yesterday. I had hitherto thought +myself a quiet fellow, but nothing to-day could cheat me out of the +knowledge of my youth.</p> + +<p>I found Georgy in a little back parlor, the third room of Mrs. Dwight's +gorgeous suite, curled up on a blue sofa in a white morning dress of the +simplest make, and her hair on her shoulders in the old fashion, quite +transforming her from the brilliant young lady she had seemed the night +before. She did not move as I came in, but lay still, pale and heavy-eyed, +and stretched out a little lifeless<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span> hand. "I am too tired to lift my +head," she said plaintively; and I, feeling myself an intruder, proposed +to go away at once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, you foolish boy!" she cried, laughing. "That is the very +reason I wanted you to come. I am always dreary after excitement, and I +knew you would put me in good spirits. Sit down."</p> + +<p>I took a chair at the other side of the fireplace.</p> + +<p>"Why do you go away so far?" she asked pettishly. "Are you afraid I shall +eat you? Come here;" and she indicated a chair close by her sofa at which +I had looked longingly while fearing to venture so near.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said with an air of comfort, and looked into my face with the +open-eyed simplicity of a child. "Oh, Floyd," she exclaimed, but under her +breath, "I am so glad to see you again! Are you glad to be here with me?"</p> + +<p>"Very glad: it is not worth while saying how glad."</p> + +<p>"Why not? I never enjoyed anything half so much as I enjoyed last evening, +and half of it was because you were looking on. Tell me honestly now, was +I a success?"</p> + +<p>"So great a success that I wondered so superb a belle cared to speak to a +boy like me. I often used to think of your future, Georgy, and had many +brilliant dreams for you: I have no doubt that you will fulfil them all."</p> + +<p>She had quite lost her air of weariness, and flashed into life and +brilliance, and, starting up, was so close to me that I could feel the +warmth and fragrance of her cheek and hair. I should have drawn away my +chair, but that she had herself placed it; and now she fastened her little +slippered feet on the rounds and looked into my eyes thus closely with the +enchanting freedom of a child.</p> + +<p>"It is so nice to hear you say such things!" she ran on, cooing into my +ear. "I am so glad you meet me kindly! I have cried sometimes to think +that my naughtiness at The Headlands had quite estranged you."</p> + +<p>"Oh no. Why should you blame yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was to blame. But, Floyd, if you only knew what I have suffered +you would forgive me. Say that you forgive me."</p> + +<p>She slid a slim satin hand into mine. I was not at all certain to what she +was alluding, but I took pleasure in assuring her that if I had anything +to forgive, I forgave it from my heart.</p> + +<p>She withdrew her hand after a time with a sudden hauteur and caprice of +prudery, which was perhaps one of those delightful little ways to which +Thorpe had alluded.</p> + +<p>"I missed you so after you left Belfield," she went on, her color +deepening as she spoke. "Everything seemed dull. No matter what we tried +to do, it seemed duller than what had gone before."</p> + +<p>We were all of us strong in quotations in those days; accordingly I +quoted—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Peter was dull: he was at first<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dull—oh, so dull! so very dull!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether he talked, wrote or rehearsed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still with the dulness was he cursed—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dull—beyond all conception dull."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Oh, how clever!" she exclaimed. "Did you write it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no: I think not."</p> + +<p>"But you can do such things. You are so clever, everything is easy to you. +That is why I always liked you better than any one else. You have +sympathy, wit, imagination. You understand things up to the heights and +down to the depths. Harry Dart is a little like you: he has wit and +imagination, but he is flippant, he has no sympathy. Poor old Jack has +plenty of sympathy, but neither wit nor imagination."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," said I, trying to control my voice, "it is Jack who has +won you: the rest of us are nowhere. He is the lucky one of us three."</p> + +<p>"Do you think him lucky?" she asked with a trembling, uncertain little +laugh. "I am very grateful to him for trying to win me: not many would +have done it, knowing all the circumstances of my family—all our faults +and humiliations. I am not like other girls, Floyd. They may fall in love, +and strive and hope and wait, with poetic dreams and trembling desires, to +end in rapturous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> fulfilment. Not so with me. I must marry early, and +marry a man who has wealth, to help those who expect everything from me. +My destiny came to me ready-made: I accepted it. The poetry and the +romance and the wild wish to love and be loved, as I might be if I could +afford to wait, were all put by for hard, practical common sense."</p> + +<p>I could see only the sweet pathetic droop of the lips, for her face was +turned away and downward. There was a moment's silence between us, but she +broke it with another of those uncertain little laughs and a glance at me. +"I don't know why I have told you this," she said softly. "Don't think I +under-value Jack. He has all the best qualities a man can possess for +success in life, but none of those essential for winning a woman's heart. +Why, Floyd—But tell me, could you do your stupid old lessons with me +looking over you?"</p> + +<p>Our eyes met, and we both laughed: I shook my head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Jack can," she cried triumphantly. "He amuses me that way +sometimes, and my fascinations never disturb the even tenor of his +thoughts: he will plod on with his foolish old mathematics with my head on +his shoulder. There! I oughtn't to have said that," she added with a +little grimace. "Don't tell Jack."</p> + +<p>I certainly had no thought of telling Jack.</p> + +<p>"As for you, Floyd," she went on more softly, "you will never grow so +hard-hearted. To the end of your life all the beautiful faces in the world +will set you dreaming. Do you think I have forgotten the old days when you +told me about Mignon and Rosalind, Mary Queen of Scots, Helen, Cleopatra, +and Gretchen in that tiresome German poem you used to be so fond of +reading. Even the thought of those fair women—some of them mere poetic +creations, others mortal women long since gone to dust—used to cause you +more heart-throbs than Jack will ever feel for all the rosy cheeks and +bright eyes that are close beside him."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word," said I abruptly, "you don't begin to know Jack's feeling +for you."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! That is what he is always telling me. I know he wants to marry me: +he has a talent for the domestic. His most romantic dream is of a +fireside, an easy-chair and me." She looked up at me and laughed. "I +suppose," she went on with a resigned air, "that I shall have to wear +aprons and make puddings. But enough of our prosaic ménage: I shall not be +married for a year yet. Talk to me about something else—about your +mother, Mr. Floyd and Helen—about everybody except that odious Mr. +Raymond."</p> + +<p>"My mother is in New York with my aunt, Mrs. Woolsey," I returned. "We +were all—my mother, Helen and Mr. Raymond, and I—at Mr. Floyd's house in +Washington through the holidays. I have seen none of them since."</p> + +<p>Georgy looked at me with peculiar intentness. "Tell me about that," she +said eagerly.</p> + +<p>"About our visit? Oh, it was pleasant. Mr. Floyd had planned it several +times, but something had always happened hitherto to prevent it. Of course +we saw constantly all the foremost people. Mr. Floyd had a dinner-party +every night, and my mother and Helen were no end of belles."</p> + +<p>"Helen! little Helen a belle?"</p> + +<p>"You would have thought so. She presided at the table, and the old men +were in ecstasies over her beauty, grace and grand manners. Mr. Floyd was +so happy and proud he could not keep his eyes from her."</p> + +<p>"She is only fifteen," observed Georgy, a little dissatisfaction clouding +her lovely face. "She is too young to be in society. But she has +everything, can do everything: it has always been so. Oh, if I were that +girl!—I suppose you are in love with her, Floyd."</p> + +<p>"I in love with Helen?" I did not say any more. Helen was a tall, slim +girl now, but with a frigid air about her which indisposed me to +admiration. How different from Georgy, whose smile and glance thawed +reserve and drew me close to her! I did not define the meaning of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> the +warm lovelight in her eyes, nor ask whether it was a perpetual fire, a +lure to all men, or merely a sign for me. Sitting beside her, I was +conscious of an atmosphere emanating as it were from the warmth and +kindness of her smile and glance—an atmosphere which in itself was +delicious and complete, predisposing me to dreamy, happy silence. To be +near her was to feel in a high degree the beauty and power of woman: full +of loveliness as were the arch, mobile face, the glorious hair, the eyes +with their life and tenderness, the perfect lips, they were but a small +part of her charm, which seemed to breathe from the statuesque pose of +bust and neck and head, and the supple grace of her every movement.</p> + +<p>She questioned me minutely concerning Mr. Floyd. He was no longer in +office now, but was spending his time at The Headlands with Mr. Raymond +and Helen until I should be ready in July to sail with him for Europe. It +was quite easy to perceive that the moment we touched upon this new +subject Georgy's composure and gayety were alike banished, and as I knew +that reasons existed which made The Headlands and Helen's society +forbidden ground for her, I would have changed to other topics; but she +kept on pertinaciously in her questionings until, with all my wish to +please her, I grew weary.</p> + +<p>It was quite as well, however, that my first enchantment should be a +little abated before I left her, and I went away thinking for a time more +about her curiosity concerning Helen and Mr. Floyd than about the rose on +her cheeks and the light in her eyes. I had no intention of bidding her a +final good-bye when I shook hands with her, but it fell out that more than +two years were to pass before I looked upon her face again.</p> + +<p>I think my mental equilibrium was perhaps a little disturbed by this +interview with her. She had—perhaps carelessly, perhaps with some faint +suggestion of truth—said some things which I could not forget. Had she +not told me she liked me better than anybody else? What did she mean? how +much did she mean? I knew that she spoke heedlessly at times—that she +possessed no intellectual discipline, no mental accuracy to measure the +force of her words. I knew, too, that coquetry and feminine instinct +impelled her to use her strongest weapons against any masculine adversary. +Yet, subtracting all these influences from her speech, it was still left +fraught with delicious meaning. I had no wish to wrong Jack, but my vanity +was tickled by the suggestion that I had something which was my own hidden +treasure. I found a line which suited the sentimental nature of my +thoughts. "The children of Alice call Bertram father." I used to repeat it +to myself with exquisite pain, and think of the time when I should see +Jack with his wife beside him, their children at their feet. "The children +of Alice call Bertram father." I was impressed with the deep romance of +common life, and wrote more bad verses at that period than I would have +confessed to my dearest friend.</p> + +<p>Harry Dart, who was the closest observer of our coterie, was not long in +making the discovery that I was despondent about something, and presently +taxed me with being in love with Georgy Lenox. I found myself terribly +vexed with him, and also with myself, but not on my own account. I could +not reply to his raillery. It seemed to me horribly unfair for him to +steal my shadow of a secret and then proclaim it aloud; but I was not so +badly off but that I could stand what he said about myself. In fact, I was +glad to be held up to ridicule, and, thus disillusionized, see my fault in +its true colors. It seemed to me unworthy of Harry to attack a defenceless +girl in this way, engaged, too, as she was to his cousin. Had I not known +him all my life as well as I knew myself, I should have suspected that +something underlay his malice—that she had injured him in some way, and +that he was ungenerous enough thus to gratify an unreasonable spite.</p> + +<p>Jack and I were out one evening, and returning entered our sitting-room +together, and found Harry there with two or three men not belonging to the +college, and among them Thorpe. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span> evident to me that they changed +their subject as we entered, but the talk at once flowed again, and Harry +excelled as usual in quaint fancies, happy repartees and sharp flings at +all of us while he lay stretched out in my reclining-chair smoking before +the fire. Jack had evidently been to see Georgy, and looked dreamy and +content, and joined the circle instead of going at once to his books. +Thorpe made allusion once or twice to his pleasant abstraction, but Jack +was indifferent, and even after the visitors were gone he sat looking at +the fire with a sort of smile on his face.</p> + +<p>"Well, old fellow," said I after a time, "don't waste all that pleasant +material for dreams on yourself."</p> + +<p>He rose, stretched himself, and laughed in his soft, pleasant way. "I've +got three hours' hard work before me," he remarked, "and I had better go +at it at once."</p> + +<p>"Where have you been?" asked Harry dryly.</p> + +<p>"With Georgy," Jack answered unsuspiciously.—"Boys, I warn you against +being engaged while you have a demand for brains. I should like to dawdle +here before the fire until morning thinking of her."</p> + +<p>"Spare me!" exclaimed Harry cynically. "I have heard enough praise of Miss +Georgy for one evening. Ted Hutchinson was talking about her." And with a +burst of wrath he went on, retailing the gossip of the night: Ted knew +nothing of her engagement, and was wild about her—had sent her a bracelet +anonymously, and been thrilled with delight when she showed it to him on +her white arm, wondering who could have been so kind. Thorpe too had +collected various items of news about her. There was old Blake, a +widower—who ought to have known better, for he had three grown-up +children—sending her bouquets, driving her about the country and getting +boxes at the theatre. There was Bob Anderson, who had laid a wager that he +would—</p> + +<p>"Stop, Harry," said Jack, his kind face very sober. "I do not think you +remember that you are talking to the man who has the honor to be engaged +to Miss Lenox."</p> + +<p>"I think the man who does her that honor ought to know the talk prevalent +among the fellows who meet her night after night and visit her day after +day."</p> + +<p>"It is a woman's misfortune that the men who are most at leisure to seek +her society are apt to be those who are least worthy to meet her on +intimate terms. The men who will use a woman's name freely in public are +men who will not hesitate to slander her."</p> + +<p>"I am not slandering her," cried Harry, starting up and facing Jack with a +white face and blazing eyes. "She has accepted a bracelet from Ted +Hutchinson. I know the very price he paid for it. Thorpe helped him to +choose it, and told Miss Lenox so next day."</p> + +<p>Jack's face puckered. "The bracelet will go back," he said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Harry burst out laughing: "You will find that if she is to return her +<i>gages d'amour</i>, a good many fellows will be richer than they are to-day. +She will accept anything a man offers her; and a wise man does not give +jewels for nothing, Jack."</p> + +<p>I went out quietly. I had feared it would come to this, and since Harry +was determined to ease his mind to his cousin, it was better that none but +Holt's ears should burn with what he had to hear. I was not ignorant of +the talk that was going on; and perhaps it was better that Jack should +know a little of the weakness that lessened his darling in the eyes of +men. But I had not left them ten minutes before Jack opened the door of my +room and called me back. The sound of his voice startled me, and the sight +of his stern, cold face awed me somewhat, as it had awed Harry, who looked +at me uneasily as I came in. We all three stood regarding each other a +moment in silence, then Dart withdrew to the window and leaned against it, +his arms folded and his eyes downcast.</p> + +<p>"You heard the first of Harry's allegations against Miss Lenox," said +Holt, breaking the pause: "he has followed them up with accusations more +definite.—Harry, repeat what you just told me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span></p> + +<p>Harry seemed quite crestfallen, "D——the business!" he muttered doggedly: +"it's none of my affair."</p> + +<p>"But you seem to have made it your affair," pursued Holt with calmness. "I +request you to repeat to Floyd what you said to me concerning him."</p> + +<p>"I said," exclaimed Harry recklessly, "that I knew Miss Lenox to be very +generous with certain favors which as a rule are reserved by +discriminating young ladies for their engaged lovers."</p> + +<p>"Go on: I do not call that a definite accusation."</p> + +<p>"I said," pursued Harry with a peculiar glance at me, "that I knew fellows +who had kissed her. Jack is bent on knowing the name of one of these +fellows, and I mentioned yours."</p> + +<p>I felt my face flame, and in spite of myself my eyes fell.</p> + +<p>"Tell me the truth, Floyd," said Jack gently. "Have you come between +Georgy and me as a lover of hers, winning away her regard for me?"</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed, "no, no, no! I never kissed Georgy but once, +and then I lay an almost hopeless cripple in my chair at Belfield, and she +kissed me as she would have kissed any other sick, miserable boy."</p> + +<p>Jack laughed, and his face cleared. "Oh, Harry," said he, "you foolish +fellow! to talk such nonsense!—I beg your pardon, Floyd, for seeming to +believe for a moment that you were not an honest friend of mine." We shook +hands.—"Come here, Harry," he went on with perfect good-nature: "I +promise to forgive and forget this talk of yours on condition that you do +not meddle in future between Georgy and me. You never liked her—you never +did her justice. Come, now, are you prepared to hold your tongue in +future?"</p> + +<p>Harry shrugged his broad shoulders. "Done!" said he, holding out his hand. +"I had no business to listen to Thorpe—less still to gossip to you—less +still to tell lies about Floyd here. I'm awfully ashamed of myself. Don't +lay it up against me."</p> + +<p>"I am a quiet fellow," said Jack, eying us both keenly—"I don't parade my +feelings—but there is no child's play in the regard I have for the girl +I love. I know her faults—I pity them: I hope, please God, to root them +out, for they are the fruit of an imperfect education and a false example. +She does not yet have the protection of my name, yet I should have hoped +that my friends would have respected me enough not to listen to any light +mention of the woman sacred to me above all others. I have no jealousy in +me, but if a man, friend or no friend, dared to come between me and the +girl I loved—" He broke off abruptly, and his clenched right hand opened +and shut. "Mark me," he added, controlling himself, "I have perfect faith +in Georgina. The one who tries to make me distrust her wastes his +breath.—Remember this, Harry. I have heard you once, and forgive you and +love you all the same, but my forbearance has its limits." He went into +his room and shut the door.</p> + +<p>The moment we were alone I turned on Harry. "What on earth did you mean?" +I demanded, half in anger, half in a stupefaction of surprise, at his +daring to calumniate me.</p> + +<p>"Lay on," said he, sinking into the nearest chair: "I richly deserve it. +But the truth was, I had already said too much. I knew that you were +behaving respectably, and could deny what I alleged; whereas in some other +cases we might have got shipwrecked upon grim facts."</p> + +<p>I stared at him: "Do you mean to say that you knew what you were talking +about?"</p> + +<p>He bowed his head. There was a dejected look about him: he glanced at his +watch, yawned and went to bed.</p> + +<p>Throughout the remainder of the term Georgy's name was not once spoken +among us, and Harry's affection and devotion to his cousin were touchingly +displayed. Men as they were, I have seen Harry on the arm of Jack's chair +talking to him with his hand over his shoulder. Dart was to sail for +Europe before commencement, and the cloud of separation seemed to lie upon +him heavily.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Ellen W. Olney.</span></p> + +<p class="center">[TO BE CONTINUED.]</p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="COMMUNISTS_AND_CAPITALISTS" id="COMMUNISTS_AND_CAPITALISTS"></a>COMMUNISTS AND CAPITALISTS.</h2></div> + +<p class="center">A SKETCH FROM LIFE.</p> + + +<p>The Countess von Arno was Mr. Seleigman's confidential clerk. Not that +M—— smiled over any such paradox: the countess called herself simply +Mrs. von Arno.</p> + +<p>M—— is a picturesque town on the Mississippi, devoted in general to the +manufacture of agricultural implements. The largest plough-factory is +Seleigman's: he does business all over the world. A clerk who wrote +French, German and Italian fluently was a godsend. This clerk, moreover, +had an eminently concise and effective style, and displayed a business +capacity which the old German admired immensely. As much because of her +usefulness as the modest sum she was able to invest in the business, he +offered her a small share in it four years after she first came to M——. +She had come to M—— because Mrs. Greymer lived there. Therese Greymer +had known the countess from her school-days. When her husband died she +came back to her father's house, but spent her summers in Germany. Then +old Mr. Dare died suddenly, leaving Therese with her little brother to +care for, and only a few thousand dollars in the world. About this time +the countess separated from her husband. "So I am poor," said she, "but it +will go hard if I can't take care of you, Therese." Thus she became Mr. +Seleigman's clerk. M—— forgave her the clerkship, forgave her even her +undoubted success in making money, on account of Mrs. Greymer. It had +watched Therese grow from a slim girl, with black braids hanging down her +white neck as she sat in the "minister's pew" of the old brick church, +into a beautiful pale woman in a widow's bonnet. Therese went now every +Sunday to the same church where her father used to preach. The countess +accompanied her most decorously. She was a pagan at heart, but it pleased +Therese. In church she spent her time looking at her friend's profile and +calculating the week's sales.</p> + +<p>The countess had a day-dream: the dreams which most women have had long +ago been rudely broken for her, and the hopes which she cherished now had +little romance about them. She knew her own powers and how necessary she +was to Seleigman: some day she saw the firm becoming Seleigman & Von Arno, +the business widening, and the ploughs, with the yellow eagle on them, in +every great city of Europe. "Then," said the countess to herself, standing +one March morning, four years after she had first come to M——, by the +little dining-room window—"then we can perhaps persuade the workmen to +buy stock in the concern and have a few gleams of sense about profits and +wages."</p> + +<p>She lifted one arm above her head and rested her cheek against it. Otto +von Arno during his brief period of fondness had been used to call his +wife "his Scandinavian goddess." She was of the goddess type, tall, +fair-faced and stately, with thick, pale gold hair, and brown lashes +lifted in level lines from steady, deep gray eyes. "Pretty" seemed too +small a word for such a woman, yet "beautiful" conveys a hint of +tenderness; and Mrs. von Arno's face—it might be because of those steady +eyes—was rather a hard face, notwithstanding the soft pink and white of +her skin, and even the dimples that dented her cheek when she smiled.</p> + +<p>Now she was not smiling. The air was heavy with the damp chill of early +spring; and as the countess absently surveyed a gravel-walk bordered by +limp brown grasses and a line of trees dripping last night's frost through +the fog, she saw a woman's figure emerge from the shadows and come slowly +up the walk. She was poorly dressed, and walked to the kitchen-door, where +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> countess could see her carefully wipe her feet before rapping.</p> + +<p>"That must be Bailey's wife," she thought: "I saw her waiting for him +yesterday when he came round to the shops for work.—William, my friend, +you are a nuisance."</p> + +<p>With this comment she went to the kitchen. Lettice, the maid-of-all-work, +was frying cakes in solitude. "Mrs. Greymer had taken Mrs. Bailey into the +library," she told the countess with significant inflections.</p> + +<p>The latter went to the library. It was a tiny, red-frescoed room fitted up +in black walnut. There were plants in the bay-window: Mrs. Greymer stood +among them, her soft gray wrapper falling in straight and ample folds +about her slender figure. Her face was turned toward the countess; a +loosened lock of black hair brushed the blue vein on her cheek; she held +some lilies-of-the-valley in her hand, and the gold of her wedding-ring +shone against the dark green leaves.</p> + +<p>"She looks like one of Fra Angelico's saints," thought the countess: "the +crimson lights are good too."</p> + +<p>She stood unnoticed in the doorway, leisurely admiring the picture. Mrs. +Bailey sat in the writing-chair on her right. Once, probably, she had been +a pretty woman, and she still had abundant wavy brown hair and large +dark-blue eyes with curling lashes; but she was too thin and faded and +narrow-chested for any prettiness now. Her calico gown was unstarched, +though scrupulously clean: she wore a thin blue-and-white summer shawl, +and her old straw bonnet was trimmed with a narrow blue ribbon pieced in +two places. Her voice was slightly monotonous, but low-keyed: as she spoke +her hands clasped and unclasped each other. The veins stood out and the +knuckles were enlarged, but they were rather white than otherwise.</p> + +<p>She went on with her story: "The children are so good, Mrs. Greymer; but +six of them, and me not over strong—it makes it hard. We hain't had +anything but corn meal in the house all this week, and the second-hand +woman says our things ain't worth the carting. The children have got so +shabby they hate to go to school, and the boys laugh at Willie 'cause his +hat's his pa's old one and ain't got no brim, though I bound it with the +best of the old braid, for I thought maybe they'd think it was a cap. And +the worst was this morning, when there was nothin' but just mush: we +hadn't even 'lasses, and the children cried. Oh, I didn't go to tell you +all this: you know I ain't a beggar. I've tried to live decent. Oh dear! +oh dear!" She tried to wipe away the tears which were running down her +thin cheeks with the tips of her fingers, but they came too fast. +Mechanically, she put her hand in her pocket, only to take it out empty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Greymer slipped her own dainty handkerchief, which the countess had +embroidered, into the other's hand. "You ought to have come to me before, +Martha," she said reproachfully—"such an old friend as I am!"</p> + +<p>"'Tain't easy to have them as has known you when you were like folks see +you without even a handkerchief to cry on," said Mrs. Bailey. "If I'd +known where to turn for a loaf of bread, I'd not ha' come now; but I can't +see my children starve. And I ain't come to beg now. All we want is honest +work. William has been everywhere since they sent him away from Dorsey's +just because the men talked about striking, though they didn't strike. +He's been to all the machine-shops, but they won't take him: they say he +has too long a tongue for them, though he's as sober and steady a man as +lives, and there ain't a better workman in M——, or D—— either. William +is willing to do anything: he tried to get work on the streets, but the +street commissioner said he'd more men he'd employed for years asking work +than he knew what to do with. And I thought—I thought, Mrs. Greymer, if +you would only speak to Mrs. von Arno—"</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Mrs. Bailey," said the countess, advancing. She had a +musical voice, clear and full, with a vibrating quality like the notes of +a violin—a very pleasant voice to hear, yet it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span> hardly seemed reassuring +to the visitor. Unconsciously, she sat up straighter in her chair, her +nervous fingers plaiting the fringe of her shawl.</p> + +<p>"I heard you mention my name," the countess continued: "is there anything +you wish of me?"</p> + +<p>Therese came to Mrs. Bailey's assistance: "Her husband is out of work: +can't you do something with Mr. Seleigman, Helen? Bailey is a good +workman."</p> + +<p>"He is indeed, ma'am," added Bailey's wife eagerly, "and as sober and +faithful to his work: he never slights one bit."</p> + +<p>"I don't doubt it," said the countess gravely; "but, Mrs. Bailey, if we +were to take your husband on, and the union were to order a strike, even +though he were perfectly satisfied with his own wages, wouldn't he strike +himself, and do all he could to make the others strike?" Mrs. Bailey was +silent.</p> + +<p>"A strike might cost us thousands of dollars. Naturally, we don't want to +risk one; so we have no union-men. If Bailey will leave the union he may +go to hammering ploughshares for us to-morrow, and earn, with his skill, +twenty dollars a week."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bailey's face worked. "'Tain't no use ma'am," she said desperately: +"he won't go back on his principles. He says it's the cause of Labor, and +he'll stick to it till he dies. You can't blame him, ma'am, for doing what +he thinks is right."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. But you see that it is impossible for us to employ your +husband. Isn't there something I can do for you yourself, though? Mrs. +Greymer tells me you sew very neatly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I sew," said Mrs. Bailey in a dull tone, "but I'd be obliged to you, +ma'am, if you'd give me the work soon: I've a machine now, and I'll likely +not have it next week. There's ten dollars due on it, and the agent says +he'll have to take it back. I've paid fifty dollars on it, but this month +and lost times was so hard I couldn't pay."</p> + +<p>The countess put a ten-dollar bill in her hand. "Let me lend you this, +then," she said, unheeding the half shrinking of Mrs. Bailey's face and +attitude; and then she avoided all thanks by answering Lettice's summons +at the door.</p> + +<p>"Poor little woman!" she said to Mrs. Greymer at breakfast—"she didn't +half like to take it. She looked nearly starved too, though she ate so +little breakfast. How did you manage to persuade her to take that huge +bundle?"</p> + +<p>"She is a very brave little woman, Helen. I should like to tell you about +her," said Mrs. Greymer.</p> + +<p>"Until a quarter of eight my time is yours, and my sympathy, as usual, is +boundless."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Greymer smiled slightly. "I have known her for a great many years," +she said, disregarding the countess's last speech: "she went to school +with me, in fact. She was such a pretty girl then! Somehow, she took a +fancy to me, and used to help me with my Practical Arithmetic—"</p> + +<p>"So called because it is written in the most unpractical and +incomprehensible style: yes, I know it," interrupted the countess.</p> + +<p>"Martha was much brighter than I at it, anyhow, and used to do my +examples. She used to bring me the loveliest violets: she would walk all +the way over to the island for them. I remember I cried when her people +moved to Chicago and she left school. I didn't see her for almost ten +years: then I met her accidentally on Randolph street in Chicago. She knew +me, and insisted on my going out with her to see her home. It was in the +suburbs, and was a very pretty, tidy little place, with a garden in front, +where Martha raised vegetables, and a little plot for flowers. She was so +proud of it all and of her two pretty babies, and showed me her chickens +and her furniture and a picture of her husband. They had bought the house, +and were to pay for it in six years, but William was getting high wages, +and she had no fears. Poor Martha!"</p> + +<p>"Their Arcadia didn't last?"</p> + +<p>"No. William got interested in trades-unions: there was a strike, and he +was very prominent. He was out of work a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> long time, and Martha supported +the family by taking in sewing and selling the vegetables. Then her third +child was born, and she was sick for a long time afterward: she had been +working too hard, poor thing! His old employers took William on with the +rest of the men when the strike ended, but very soon found a pretext for +discharging him; and, in short, they used up all their little savings, and +the house went. William thought he had been ill-used, and became more +violent in his opinions."</p> + +<p>"A Communist, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so. Martha with her three children couldn't go out to work, but +she is a model housekeeper, and she opened a little laundry with the money +she got from the sale of some of their furniture. William got work, but +lost it again, but Martha managed in a humble way to support the family +until William had an offer to come here; so they sold out the laundry to +get money to move."</p> + +<p>"Very idiotic of them."</p> + +<p>"After they came here they at first lived on Front street, which is near +the river, and Martha caught the chills and fever. William soon lost his +place, and they moved across the river to D——. He became known as a +speaker, and things have been going from bad to worse; the children have +come fast, and Martha has never really recovered from her fever; and they +have had simply an awfully hard time. I haven't seen Martha for three +months, and have tried in vain to find out where she lived. Poor Martha! +she has never complained, but it has been a hard life for her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, a hard life," repeated the countess, rising and putting on her +jacket; "but it seems to me she has chiefly her own husband to thank for +it. And six children! I have my opinion of Mr. William Bailey."</p> + +<p>"You are hardly just to Bailey, Helen: he has sacrificed his own interests +to his principles. He is as honest—as honest as the Christian martyrs, +though he <i>is</i> an infidel."</p> + +<p>"The Christian martyrs always struck me as a singularly unpractical set of +people," said the countess.</p> + +<p>"Maybe: nevertheless, they founded a religion and changed the world. And, +Helen, you and the people like you laugh at Communism and the complaints +of the laboring classes, but it's like Samson and the Philistines; and +this Samson, blind though he is, will one day, unless we do something +besides laugh, pull the pillars down on his head—and on ours."</p> + +<p>"He will <i>try</i>" said the countess: "if we are wise, we shall be ready and +shoot him dead." She kissed Mrs. Greymer smilingly, and went away. Her +friend, watching her from the window, saw her stop to pat a great dog on +the head and give a little boy a nickel piece.</p> + +<p>One Sunday afternoon, two weeks later, the two friends crossed the bridge +to D—— to visit the Baileys. When they reached the end of the bridge +they paused a moment to rest. The day was one of those warm, bright spring +days which deceitfully presage an immediate summer. On the river-shore +crawfishes were lazily creeping over the gravel. The air rang with the +blue jay's chatter, a robin showed his tawny breast among the withered +grasses, and a flicker on a dead stump bobbed his little red-barred head +and fluttered his yellow wings. Beneath the bridge the swift current +sparkled in the sun. Over the river, on each side, rose the hills. The +gray stone of the government works was visible to the right through the +leafless trees: nearer, square, yellow and ugly, stood the old arsenal. A +soldier, musket on shoulder, marched along the river-edge: the cape of his +coat fluttered in the breeze and his slanting bayonet shone like silver. +Before them lay D——, the smoke from its mills and houses curling into +the pale blue air.</p> + +<p>The countess drew a long breath: she had a keen feeling for beauty. "Yes, +it is a lovely place," she said. "The hills are not high enough, but the +river makes amends for everything. But what are those hideous shanties, +Therese?"</p> + +<p>"Are they not hideous?" said Mrs. Greymer. "They are all pine, and it gets +such an ugly dirt-black when it isn't painted. The glass is broken out of +the windows and the shingles have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span> peeled off the roofs. When it rains the +water drips through. In spring, when the river rises, it comes up to their +very doors: one spring it came in. It is not a nice place to live in."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly: still, I suppose people do live there."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the Baileys live there. You see, the rent is low."</p> + +<p>The countess lifted her eyebrows and followed Mrs. Greymer without +answering. Some sulky-looking men were smoking pipes on the doorsteps, and +a few women, whose only Sunday adorning seemed to have been plastering +their hair down over their cheeks with a great deal of water, gossiped at +the corner. Half a dozen children were playing on the river-bank.</p> + +<p>"They fall in every little while," Therese explained, "they are so small, +and most of the mothers here go out washing. This is the Baileys'."</p> + +<p>William Bailey answered the knock. He was a tall man, who carried his +large frame with a kind of muscular ease. He had a square, gray-whiskered +face with firm jaws and mild light-blue eyes. The hair being worn away +from his forehead made it seem higher than it really was. He wore his +working clothes and a pair of very old boots cut down into slippers. The +only stocking he had was in his hand, and he appeared to have been darning +it. Close behind him came his wife, holding the baby. The bright look of +recognition on her face at the sight of Mrs. Greymer faded when she +perceived the countess. Rather stiffly she invited them to enter.</p> + +<p>The room was small and most meanly furnished, but it was clean. The walls +were dingy beyond the power of soap and water to change, but the floor had +been scrubbed, and what glass there was in the windows had been washed. +There were occasional holes in the ceiling and walls where the plaster had +given way: out of one of these peered the pointed nose and gleaming eyes +of a great rat. Judging from sundry noises she heard, the countess +concluded there were many of these animals under the house, though what +they found to live on was a puzzle; but they ate a little of the children +now and then, and perhaps the hope of more sustained them. A pale little +boy was lying on a mattress in the corner covered with a faded +blue-and-white shawl.</p> + +<p>Therese had mysteriously managed to dispose of the basket she had brought +before she went up to him and kissed him, saying, "I am sorry to see +Willie is still sick."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Bailey, smiling bitterly. "The doctor says he needs dry air +and exercise: it's damp here."</p> + +<p>"Tommy More has promised to lend us his cart, and Susie will take him on +the island," Mrs. Bailey said hastily; "it's real country there."</p> + +<p>"But you have to have a pass," answered Bailey in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"Any one can get a pass," said the countess; "but if you prefer I will ask +the colonel to-day, and he will send you one to-morrow."</p> + +<p>For the first time Bailey fairly looked the countess in the face: his +brows contracted, he opened his lips to speak.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa," cried the boy in a weak voice trembling with eagerness, "the +island is <i>splendid</i>! Tommy's father works there, and they's cannon and a +foundry and a <i>live eagle</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Willie dear," said his father as he laid his brown hand gently on +the boy's curls. He inclined his head toward the countess. "I'll thank +you," he said gravely.</p> + +<p>The countess picked up a pamphlet from the table, more to break the +uncomfortable pause which followed than for any other reason. "Do you like +this?" she said, hardly reading the title.</p> + +<p>"I believe it," said Bailey: "I am a Communist myself." He drew himself up +to his full height as he spoke: there was a certain suppressed defiance in +his attitude and expression.</p> + +<p>"Are you?" said the countess. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" cried Bailey. "Look at me! I'm a strong man, and willing to do any +kind of work. I've worked hard for sixteen year: I've been sober and +steady and saving. Look what all that work and saving has brought me! This +is a nice place for a decent man and his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> family to live in, ain't it? +Them walls ain't clean? No, because scrubbing can't make 'em. The grime's +in the plaster: yes, and worse than grime—vermin and disease sech as +'tain't right for me to mention even to ladies like you, but it's right +enough for sech as us to live in. Yes, by G—-! to <i>die</i> in!" He was a man +who spoke habitually in a low voice, and it had not grown louder, but the +veins on his forehead swelled and his eyes began to glow.</p> + +<p>"It is hard, truly," said the countess. "Whose fault is it?"</p> + +<p>"Whose fault?" Bailey repeated her words vehemently, yet with something of +bewilderment. "Society's fault, which grinds a poor man to powder, so as +to make a rich man richer. But the people won't stand this sort of thing +for ever."</p> + +<p>"You would have a general division of property, then?"</p> + +<p>"Indirectly, yes. Power must be taken from bloated corporations and given +to the people; the railroads must be taken by government; accumulation of +capital over a limited amount must be forbidden; men must work for +Humanity, and not for their selfish interests."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any men who are working so?"</p> + +<p>"I know a few."</p> + +<p>"Mostly workingmen?"</p> + +<p>"All workingmen."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think a general division of property would be for <i>their</i> +selfish interests?"</p> + +<p>"I don't call it selfish to ask for just a decent living."</p> + +<p>"I fancy the chiefs of your party would demand a great deal more than a +bare decent living. Mr. Bailey, the rights of property rest on just this +fact in human nature: A man will work better for himself than he will for +somebody else. And you can't get him to work unless he is guaranteed the +fruits of his labor. Capital is brain, and Labor is muscle, but the brain +has as much to do with the creation of wealth as muscle: more, for it can +invent machines and do without muscle, while muscle cannot do without +brain. You can't alter human nature, Mr. Bailey. If you had a Commune, +every man would be for himself there as he is here: the weak would have +less protection than even now, for all the restraints of morality, which +are bound up inseparably with rights of property, would have been thrown +aside. Marx and Lasallis and Bradlaugh, clever as they are, can't prevent +the survival of the fittest. You knock your head against a stone wall, Mr. +Bailey, when you fight society. You have been knocking it all your life, +and now you are angry because your head is hurt. If you had never tried to +strip other men of their earnings because you fancied you ought to have +more, as skilful a blacksmith as you would have saved money and been a +capitalist himself. Supposing you give it up? Our firm will give you a +chance to make ploughshares and earn twenty dollars a week if you will +only promise not to strike us in return the first chance you get."</p> + +<p>The workingman had listened with a curling lip. "Do you mean that for an +offer?" he said in a smothered voice.</p> + +<p>"I mean it for an offer, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, William!" cried his wife, turning appealing eyes up to his face.</p> + +<p>He grew suddenly white, and brought his clenched hand heavily down on the +table. The dishes rattled with the jar, and the baby, scared at the noise, +began to scream. "Then," said Bailey, "you may just understand that a man +ain't always a sneak if he <i>is</i> poor; and you can be glad you ain't a man +that's tempting me to turn traitor."</p> + +<p>"I am sure my friend didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Mrs. Greymer +explained quickly, giving the countess that expressive side-glance which +much more plainly than words says, "Now you <i>have</i> done it!" Mrs. Bailey +was walking up and down soothing the baby: the little boy looked on +open-eyed.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry if I have said anything which has seemed like an insult," said +the countess: "I certainly didn't intend one. Perhaps after you have +thought it all over you will feel differently. You know where to find me. +Good-evening."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span></p> + +<p>She held out her hand, which Bailey did not seem to see, smiled on the +little boy and went out, leaving Mrs. Greymer behind.</p> + +<p>A little girl with pretty brown curls and deep-blue eyes was making +sand-caves on the shore. The countess spoke to her in passing, and left +her staring at her two hands, which were full of silver coin. At the +bridge the countess paused to wait for her friend. She saw her come out, +attended by Mrs. Bailey: she saw Mrs. Bailey watch her, saw the little +girl give her mother the money, and then she saw the woman, still carrying +her baby in her arms, walk slowly down the river-bank to where a boat lay +keel uppermost like a great black arrowhead on the sand. Here she sat +down, and, clasping the child closer, hid her face in its white hair.</p> + +<p>"And, upon my soul, I believe she is crying," said the spectator, who +stopped at the commandant's house and obtained the pass before she went +home.</p> + +<p>On Monday, Mrs. Greymer proposed asking little Willie Bailey to spend a +week with them. The countess assented, merely saying, "You must take the +little skeleton to drive every day, and send the livery-bills to me."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall drive over this afternoon if Freddy's sore throat is +better," said Mrs. Greymer.</p> + +<p>But she did not go: Freddy's sore throat was worse instead of better, and +his sister had enough to do for some days fighting off diphtheria. So it +happened that it was a week before she was able to go to D——. She found +the Baileys' door swinging on its hinges, and a high-stepping hen of +inquisitive disposition investigating the front room: the Baileys had +gone.</p> + +<p>"They went to Chicago four days ago," an amiable neighbor explained: "they +didn't say what fur. The little boy he cried 'cause he wanted to go on the +island fust. Guess <i>he</i> ain't like to live long: he's a weak, pinin' +little chap."</p> + +<p>Only once did Therese hear from Mrs. Bailey. The letter came a few days +after her useless drive to D——. It was dated Chicago, and expressed +simply but fervently her gratitude for all Mrs. Greymer's kindness. +Enclosed were three one-dollar bills, part payment, the writer said, "of +my debt to Mrs. von Arno, and I hope she won't think I meant to run away +from it because I can't just now send more." There was no allusion to her +present condition or her prospects for the future. Mrs. Greymer read the +letter aloud, then held out the bills to the countess.</p> + +<p>She pushed them aside as if they stung her. "What does the woman think I +am made of?" she exclaimed. "Why, it's hideous, Therese! Write and tell +her I never meant her to pay me."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid the letter won't reach her," said Mrs. Greymer.</p> + +<p>Nor did it: in due course of time Therese received her own letter back +from the Dead-Letter Office. The words of interest and sympathy, the plans +and encouragement, sounded very oddly to her then, for, as far as they +were concerned, Martha Bailey's history was ended. It was in July the +countess had met them again. She was in Chicago. Otto was dead. He had +given back to his wife by his will the property which had come to him +through her: whether because of a late sense of justice or a dislike to +his heir, a distant cousin who wrote theological works and ate with his +knife, the countess never ventured to decide. The condition of part of +this property, which was in Chicago, had obliged her to go there. She +arrived on the evening of the fifteenth of July—a day Chicago people +remember because the great railroad strike of 1877 reached the city that +day.</p> + +<p>The countess found the air full of wild rumors. Stories of shops closed by +armed men, of vast gatherings of Communists on the North Side, of robbery, +bloodshed and—to a Chicago ear most blood-curdling whisper of all—of a +contemplated second burning of the city, flew like prairie-fire through +the streets.</p> + +<p>The countess's lawyer, whom she had visited very early on Thursday +morning, insisted on accompanying her from his office to her friend's +house on the North<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span> Side. On Halstead street their carriage suddenly +stopped. Putting her head out of the window, the countess perceived that +the coachman had drawn up close to the curbstone to avoid the onset of a +yelling mob of boys and men armed with every description of weapon, from +laths and brickbats to old muskets. The boys appeared to regard the whole +affair as merely a gigantic "spree," and shouted "Bread or Blood!" with +the heartiest enthusiasm; but the men marched closer, in silence and with +set faces. The gleaming black eyes, sharp features and tangled black hair +of half of them showed their Polish or Bohemian blood. The others were +Norwegians and Germans, with a sprinkling of Irish and Americans. Their +leader was a tall man whom the countess knew. He had turned to give an +order when she saw him. At that same instant a shabby woman ran swiftly +from a side street and tried to throw her arms about the man's neck. He +pushed her aside, and the crowd swept them both out of sight.</p> + +<p>"I think I have seen a woman I know," said the countess composedly; "and +do you know, Mr. Wilder, that our horses have gone? Our Communist friends +prefer riding to walking, it seems." They were obliged to get out of the +carriage. The countess looked up and down the street, but saw no trace of +the woman. Apparently, she had followed the mob.</p> + +<p>By this time some small boys, inspired by the occasion, had begun to show +their sympathy with oppressed labor by pelting the two well-dressed +strangers with potatoes and radishes, which they confiscated from a +bloated capitalist of a grocer on the corner. The shower was so thick that +Mr. Wilder was relieved when they reached the Halstead street +police-station, where they sought refuge. Here they passed a sufficiently +exciting hour. They could hear plainly the sharp crack of revolvers and +the yells and shouts of the angry mob blending in one indistinguishable +roar. Once a barefooted boy ran by, screaming that the police were driven +back and the Communists were coming. Then a troop of cavalry rode up the +street on a sharp trot, their bridles jingling and horses' hoofs +clattering. The roar grew louder, ebbed, swelled again, then broke into a +multitude of sounds—screams, shouts and the tumultuous rush of many feet.</p> + +<p>A polite sergeant opened the door of the little room where the countess +was sitting to inform her the riot was over. They were just bringing in +some prisoners: he was very sorry, but one of them would have to come in +there. He was a prominent rioter whom they had captured trying to bring +off the body of his wife, who had been killed by a chance shot. It would +be only for a short time: the gentleman had gone for a carriage. He hoped +the lady wouldn't mind.</p> + +<p>The lady, who had changed color slightly, said she should not mind. The +sergeant held the door back, and some men brought in something over which +had been flung an old blue-and-white shawl. They carried it on a shutter, +and the folds of a calico dress, torn and trampled, hung down over the +side.</p> + +<p>Then came two policemen, pushing after the official manner a man covered +with dust and blood.</p> + +<p>"Bailey!" exclaimed the countess. Their eyes met.</p> + +<p>Bailey bent his head toward the table where the men had laid their burden. +"Lift that," he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>The countess lifted the shawl with a steady hand. There was an old white +straw bonnet flattened down over the forehead; a wisp of blue ribbon +string was blown across the face and over the red smear between the +eyebrow and the hair; the eyes stared wide and glassy. But it was the same +soft brown hair. The countess knew Martha Bailey.</p> + +<p>"There was women and children on the sidewalk, but they fired right into +us," said Bailey. He spoke in a monotonous, dragging voice, as though +every word were an effort. "They killed her. I asked you to give me work +in your shop, and you wouldn't do it. Here's the end of it. Now you can go +home and say your prayers."</p> + +<p>"I don't say prayers," answered the countess, "and you know I offered you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span> +work. But don't let us reproach each other here. Where are your children?"</p> + +<p>"Ain't you satisfied with what you have done already?" said Bailey. "Leave +me alone: you'd better."</p> + +<p>"Gently now!" said one of the policemen.</p> + +<p>"Whatever you may think of me," said the countess quietly, "you know Mrs. +Greymer was always your wife's friend. We only wanted to help her."</p> + +<p>Bailey shook off the grasp of the policemen as though it had been a +feather: with one great stride he reached the countess and caught her +roughly by the wrist. "Look at <i>her</i>, will you?" he cried: "you and the +likes of you, with your smooth cant, have killed her! You crush us and +starve us till we turn, and then you shoot us down like dogs. Leave my +children alone."</p> + +<p>"None of that, my man!" said the sergeant.</p> + +<p>The two policemen would have pulled Bailey away, but the countess stopped +them. She had turned pale even to her lips, but she did not wince.</p> + +<p>"Curse you!" groaned the Communist, flinging his arms above his head; +"curse a society which lets such things be! curse a religion—"</p> + +<p>The policemen dragged him back. "You'd better go, I think, ma'am," said +the sergeant: "the man's half crazy with the sun and fighting and grief."</p> + +<p>"You are right," said the countess. She stopped at the station-door to put +a bill in the policeman's hands: "You will find out about the children and +let me know, please."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilder, who had been standing in the doorway, an amazed witness of the +whole scene, led her out to the carriage. "He's a bad fellow, that +rioter," he said as they drove along.</p> + +<p>The countess pulled her cuff over a black mark on her wrist. "No, he is +not half a bad fellow," she answered, "but for all that he has murdered +his wife."</p> + +<p>Nor has she ever changed her opinion on that point; neither, so far as is +known, has William Bailey changed his.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Octave Thanet.</span></p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="AT_FRIENDS_MEETING" id="AT_FRIENDS_MEETING"></a>AT FRIENDS' MEETING.</h2></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sunshine and shadow o'er unsculptured walls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hang tremulous curtains, radiant and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The breath of summer perfumes all the air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Afar the wood-bird trills its tender calls.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More eloquent than chanted rituals,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Subtler than odors swinging censers bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Purer than hymn of praise or passionate prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silence, like a benediction, falls.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The still, slow moments softly slip along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The endless thread of thought: a holy throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of memories, long prisoned, find release.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sacred sweetness of the hour has lent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These quiet faces, calm with deep content,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one world-weary soul alike, the light of peace.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Susan M. Spalding.</span></p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="LETTERS_FROM_MAURITIUS_I" id="LETTERS_FROM_MAURITIUS_I"></a>LETTERS FROM MAURITIUS.—I.</h2></div> + +<h3>BY LADY BARKER.</h3> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Easter Sunday</span>, April 21, 1878.</p> + +<p>"How's her head, Seccuni?"—"Nor'-nor'-east, quarter east, saar." Such had +been the question often asked, at my impatient prompting, of the placid +Lascar quartermaster during the past fortnight. And the answer generally +elicited a sigh from the good-natured captain of the Actæa, a sigh which I +reproduced with a good deal of added woe in its intonation and a slight +dash of feminine impatience. For this easterly bearing was all wrong for +us. "Anything from the south would do," but not a puff seemed inclined to +come our way from the south. Seventeen days ago we scraped over the bar at +the mouth of D'Urban harbor, spread our sails, and fled away before a fair +wind toward the north end of Madagascar, meaning to leave it on the +starboard bow and so fetch "L'Ile Maurice, ancienne Ile de France," as it +is still fondly styled. The fair wind had freshened to a gale a day or two +later, and bowled us along before it, and we had made a rapid and +prosperous voyage so far. Sunny days and cold, clear, starry nights had +come and gone amid the intense and wonderful loveliness of these strange +seas. Not a sail had we passed, not a gull had been seen, scarcely a +porpoise. But now this radiant Easter Sunday morning finds us almost +becalmed on the eastern side of Mauritius, with what air is stirring dead +ahead, but only coming in a cat's-paw now and then. Except for one's +natural impatience to drop anchor it would have been no penance to loiter +on such a day, and so make it a memory which would stand out for ever in +bold relief amid the monotony of life. "A study of color" indeed—a study +in wonderful harmonies of vivid blues and opalesque pinks, amethysts and +greens, indigoes and lakes, all the gem-like tints breaking up into +sparkling fragments every moment, to reset themselves the next instant in +a new and exquisite combination. The tiny island at once impresses me with +a respectful admiration. What nonsense is this the geography-books state, +and I have repeated, about Mauritius being the same size as the Isle of +Wight? Absurd! Here is a bold range of volcanic-looking mountains rising +up grand and clear against the beautiful background of a summer sky, on +whose slopes and in whose valleys, green down to the water's edge, lie +fertile stretches of cultivation. We are not near enough to see whether +the pale shimmer of the young vegetation is due to grass or waving +cane-tops. Bold ravines are cut sharply down the mountainous sides and +lighted up by the silvery glint of rushing water, and the breakers, for +all the mirror-like calm of the sea out here, a couple of miles from +shore, are beating the barrier rocks and dashing their snow aloft with a +dull thud which strikes on the ear in mesmeric rhythm. Yes, it is quite +the fairest scene one need wish to rest wave-worn and eager eyes upon, and +it is still more beautiful if you look over the vessel's side. The sea is +of a Mediterranean blue, and is literally alive with fish beneath, and +lovely sea-creatures floating upon, the sunlit water. It appears as if one +could see down to unknown depths through that clear sapphire medium, +breaking up here and there into pale blue reflections which are even more +enchanting than its intense tints. Fishes, apparently of gold and +rose-color or of a radiant blue barred and banded with silver, dart, +plunge and chase each other after the fragments of biscuit we throw +overboard. Films of crystal and ruby oar themselves gently along the upper +surface or float like folded sea-flowers on the motionless water. A flock +of tiny sea-mews, half the size of the fish, are screaming shrilly and +darting down on the shoal; but as for their catching them, the idea is +preposterous, for the fish are twice as big as the birds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span></p> + +<p>Still, we want to get on: we sadly want to beat another barque which +started a couple of hours after us from Natal, and we are barely drifting +a knot an hour. It is not in the least too hot. D'Urban was very sultry +when we left, but I have been shivering ever since in my holland gown, +thinking fondly and regretfully of serge skirts and a sealskin jacket down +in the hold. It may be safely taken as an axiom in travelling that you +seldom suffer from cold more than in what are supposed to be hot climates, +and the wary <i>voyageuse</i> will never separate herself hopelessly from her +winter wraps, even when steering to tropical lands. In spite of all my +experience, I am often taken in on this point, and I should have perished +from cold during this voyage as we got farther south if it had not been +for the friendly presence of a rough Scotch plaid. Even the days were cold +on deck out of the sun, and the long nights—for darkness treads close on +the heels of sunset in the winter months of these latitudes—would have +indeed been nipping without warm wraps.</p> + +<p>But no one thinks of wraps this balmy Easter Sunday. It is delicious as to +temperature, only we are in an ungrateful hurry, and the stars find us +scarcely a dozen miles from where they left us. I sit up to see myself +safe through the narrow passage between Flat Island and Round Island, and +fall asleep at last to the monotonous chant of so many "fathoms and no +bottom," for we take soundings every five minutes or so in this reefy +region. An apology for wind gets up at last, which takes us round the +north end of the island, and we creep up to the outer anchorage of Port +Louis, on its western shore, slowly but safely in that darkest hour before +dawn.</p> + +<p>Bad news travels fast, they say, and some one actually took the trouble of +getting out of his bed and rowing out to us as soon as our anchor was down +to tell us, with apparently great satisfaction, that we had lost our race, +and that we should have to go into quarantine with the earliest dawn. +Having awakened all the sleepers with this soothing intelligence, and +called up a host of bitter feelings of rage and disappointment in the +heart of every one on board, this friendly voice bade us good-night, and +the owner rowed away into the gloom around, apparently at peace with +himself and all the world.</p> + +<p>How can I set forth the indignation we all felt to be put in quarantine +because of a little insignificant epidemic of fever at D'Urban, in coming +to a place noted as a hotbed of every variety of fever? If it was measles, +or even chicken-pox, we declared we could have understood it. But <i>fever</i>! +This sentiment was found very comforting, and it was a great +disappointment to find how little convincing it appeared to the +authorities. However, the anticipation proved to have been much worse than +the reality, for as we were all perfectly well, and had been so ever since +leaving D'Urban, the quarantine laws became delightfully elastic, and in a +couple of days or so the yellow flag was hauled down, and a more gay and +cheerful bit of bunting proclaimed to our friends on shore that we were no +longer objects of fear and aversion.</p> + +<p>In two minutes F—— is on board, and in two minutes more I am in a boat +alongside, being swiftly rowed to the flat shore of Port Louis through a +crowd of shipping, for the fine harbor of the little island seems to +attract to itself an enormous number of vessels. From Calcutta and China, +Ceylon and Madras, Pondicherry, London, Marseilles, the Cape, Callao and +Bordeaux, and from many a port besides, vessels of all varieties of rig +and tonnage come hither.</p> + +<p>In the daytime, as I now see it for the first time, Port Louis is indeed a +crowded and busy place, and its low-pitched warehouses and +unpretending-looking buildings hold many and many thousand tons of +miscellaneous merchandise coming in or going out. But at sunset an exodus +of all the white and most of the creole inhabitants sets in, leaving the +dusty streets and dingy buildings to watchmen and coolies and dogs. It is +quite curious to notice, as I do directly, what a horror the English +residents have of sleeping even one single night in Port Louis; and this +dread certainly appears to be well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span> founded if even half the stories one +hears be true. Some half dozen officials, whose duties oblige them to be +always close to the harbor, contrive, however, to live in the town, but +they nearly all give a melancholy report of the constant attacks of fever +they or their families suffer from.</p> + +<p>Certainly, at the first glance, Port Louis is not a prepossessing place to +live, or try to live, in. I will say nothing of the shabby shops, the +dilapidated-looking dwellings, one passes in a rapid drive through the +streets, because I know how deceitful outside appearances are as to the +internal resources or comforts of a tropical town. Those dingy shops may +hold excellent though miscellaneous goods in their dark recesses, and +would be absolutely unbearable to either owner or customer if they were +lighted with staring plate-glass windows. Nor would it be possible to +array tempting articles in gallant order behind so hot and glaring a +screen, for no shade or canvas would prevent everything from bleaching +white in a few hours. As for the peeled walls of house and garden, no +stucco or paint can stand many weeks of tropical sun and showers. +Everything gets to look blistered or washed out directly after it has been +renovated, and great allowances must be made for these shortcomings so +patent to the eye of a fresh visitor. What I most regretted in Port Louis +was its low-lying, fever-haunted situation. It looks marked out as a +hotbed of disease, and the wonder to me is, not that it should now and for +ten years past have the character of being a nest for breeding fevers, but +that there ever should have been a time when illness was not rife in such +a locality. Sheltered from anything like a free circulation of air by +hills rising abruptly from the seashore, swampy by nature, crowded to +excess by thousands of emigrants from all parts of the coast added to its +own swarming population, it seems little short of marvellous that even by +day Europeans can contrive to exist there long enough to carry on the +enormous trade which comes and goes to and from its harbor. Yet they do +so, and on the whole manage very well by avoiding exposure to the sun and +taking care to sleep out of the town. This is rendered possible to all by +an admirable system of railways, which are under government control, and +will gradually form a perfect network over the island. The engineering +difficulties of these lines must have been great, and it is an appalling +sight to witness a train in motion. So hilly is the little island that if +the engine is approaching the chances are it looks as if it were about to +plunge wildly down on its head and turn a somersault into the station, or +else it seems to be gradually climbing up a steep gradient after the +fashion of a fly on the wall. But everything appears well managed, and the +dulness of the daily press is never enlivened by accounts of a railway +accident.</p> + +<p>For two or three miles out of Port Louis the country is still flat and +marshy, and ugly to the last degree—not the ugliness of bareness and trim +neatness, but overgrown, dank and mournful, for all its teeming life. By +the roadside stand, here and there, what once were handsome and hospitable +mansions, but are now abodes of desolation and decay. The same sad story +may be told of each—how their owners, well-born descendants of old French +families, flourished there, amid their beautiful flowers, in health and +happiness for many a long day until the fatal "fever year" of 1867, when +half the families were carried off by swift death, and the survivors +wellnigh ruined by hurricanes and disasters of all sorts. Poor little +Mauritius has certainly passed through some very hard times, but she has +borne them bravely and pluckily, and is now reaping her reward in +returning prosperity. Sharp as has been the lesson, it is something for +her inhabitants to have learned to enforce better sanitary laws, and there +is little fear now but that their eyes have been opened to the importance +of health regulations.</p> + +<p>One effect of the epidemic which desolated Port Louis has been the +creation of the prettiest imaginable suburbs or settlements within eight +or ten miles of the town. These districts have the quaintest French +names—Beau Bassin,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span> Curépipe, Pamplemousse, Flacq, Moka, and so forth, +with the English name of "Racehill" standing out among them in cockney +simplicity. My particular suburb is the nearest and most convenient from +which F—— can compass his daily official duties, but I am not entitled +to boast of an elevation of more than eight hundred feet. Still, there is +an extraordinary difference in the temperature before we have climbed to +even half that height, and we turn out of a green lane bordered by thick +hedges of something exactly like English hawthorn into a wind-swept +clearing on the borders of a deep ravine where stands a bungalow-looking +dwelling rejoicing in the name of "The Oaks." It might much more +appropriately have been called "The Palms," for I can't see an oak +anywhere, whilst there are some lovely graceful trees with rustling giant +leaves on the lawn; but I cannot look beyond the wide veranda, where Zulu +Jack is waiting to welcome me with the old musical cry of "Jakasu-casa!" +and my little five-o'clock tea-table arranged, just as I used to have it +in Natal, on the shady side of the house. Yes, it is home at last, and +very homelike and comfortable it all looks after the tossing, changing +voyaging of the past two months, for I have come a long way round.</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Beau Bassin</span>, May 21st.</p> + +<p>I feel as if I had lived here all my life, although it is really more +unlike the ordinary English colony than it is possible to imagine; and yet +(as the walrus said to the carpenter) this "is scarcely odd," because it +is not an English colony at all. It is thoroughly and entirely French, and +the very small part of the habits of the people which is not French is +Indian. The result of more than a century of civilization, and of the +teachings of many colonists, not counting the Portuguese discoverers early +in the sixteenth century, is a mixed but very comfortable code of manners +and customs. One has not here to struggle against the ignorance and +incapacity of native servants. The clever, quick Indian has learned the +polish and elegance of his French masters, and the first thing which +struck me was the pretty manners of the native—or, as they are called, +creole—inhabitants. Everybody has a "Bon soir!" or a "Salaam!" for us as +we pass them in our twilight walks, and the manners of the domestic +servants are full of attention and courtesy. Mauritius first belonged to +the Dutch (for the Portuguese did not attempt to colonize it), who seem to +have been bullied out of it by pirates and hurricanes, and who finally +gave it up as a thankless task about the year 1700. A few years later the +French, having a thriving colony next door at Bourbon, sent over a +man-of-war and "annexed," unopposed, the pretty little island. But there +were all sorts of difficulties to overcome in those early days, and it was +not even found possible—from mismanagement of course—to make the place +pay its own working expenses. Then came the war with England at the +beginning of this century; and that made things worse, for of course we +tried to get hold of it, and there were many sharp sea-fights off its +lovely shores, until, after a gallant defence, a landing was effected by +the English, who took possession of it somewhere about 1811. Still, it +does not seem to have been of much use to them, for the French inhabitants +naturally made difficulties and declined to take the oath of allegiance; +so that it was not until the great settling-day—or rather year—of 1814, +when Louis XVIII. "came to his own again" and definitively ceded Mauritius +to the British, that we began to set to work, aided by the inhabitants +with right good-will, to develop and make the most of its enormous natural +resources.</p> + +<p>I really believe Mauritius stands alone in the whole world for variety of +scenery, of climate and of productions within the smallest imaginable +space. It might be a continent looked at through reversed opera-glasses +for the ambitious scale of its mountains, its ravines and its waterfalls. +When once you leave the plains behind—it is all on such a toy scale that +you do this in half an hour—you breathe mountain-air and look down deep +gorges and cross wide, rushing rivers. Of course the sea is part of every +view. If it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span> lost sight of for five minutes, there is nothing to do but +go on a few yards and turn a corner to see it again, stretching wide and +blue and beautiful out to the horizon. As for the length and breadth of +the island representing its area, the idea is wildly wrong. The acreage is +enormous in proportion to this same illusory length and breadth, which +very soon fades out of the newcomer's mind. One confusing effect of the +hilly nature of the ground is that one dwarfs the relative length of +distances, and gets to talk of five miles as a long way off. At first I +used to say—rather impertinently, I confess—"Surely nothing can be very +far away here!" but I have learned better already in this short month, and +recognize that even three miles constitute something of a drive. And the +chances are—nay, the certainty is—that three miles in any direction will +show you a greater variety of beautiful scenery than the same distance +over any other part of the habitable globe. The only expression I can find +to describe Mauritius to myself is one I used to hear my grandmother use +in speaking of a pretty girl who chanced to be rather <i>petite</i>. "She is a +pocket Venus," the old lady would say; and so I find myself calling L'Ile +Maurice a pocket Venus among islets.</p> + +<p>This is the beginning of the cool season, which lasts till November; and +really the climate just now is very delightful. A little too windy, +perhaps, for my individual taste, but that is owing to the rather exposed +situation of my house. The trade winds sweep in from the south-east, and +very nearly blow me and my possessions out of the drawing-room. Still, it +would be the height of ingratitude to quarrel with such a healthy, +refreshing gale, and I try to avoid the remorse which I am assured will +overtake me in the hot season if I grumble now. Of course it is hot in the +sun, but ladies need seldom or never expose themselves to it. The +gentlemen are armed, when they go out, with white umbrellas, and keep as +much as possible out of the fierce heat. At night it is quite cold, and +one or even two blankets are indispensable; yet this is by no means one of +the coolest situations in the island, though it bears an excellent +character for healthiness. Of course I can only tell you this time of what +lies immediately around me, for I have hardly strayed five miles from my +own door since I arrived. There is always so much to do in settling one's +self in a new home. This time, I am bound to say, the difficulties have +been reduced to a minimum, not only from the prompt kindness and +helpfulness of my charming neighbors, but because I found excellent +servants ready to my hand, instead of needing to go through the laborious +process of training them. The cooks are very good—better indeed than the +food material, which is not always of the best quality. The beef is +imported from Madagascar, and is thin and queerly butchered, but presents +itself at table in a sufficiently attractive form: so do the long-legged +fowls of the island. But the object of distrust is always the mutton, +which is more often goat, and consequently tough and rank: when it is only +kid one can manage it, but the older animal is beyond me. Vegetables and +fruit are abundant and delicious, and I have tasted very nice fish, though +they do not seem plentiful. Nor is the actual cost of living great for +what is technically called "bazaar"—<i>i.e.,</i> home-grown—articles of daily +food. Indeed, such things are cheap, and a few rupees go a long way in +"bazaar." The moment you come to <i>articles de luxe</i> from England or +France, then, indeed, you must reckon in dollars, or even piastres, for it +sounds too overwhelming in rupees. Wine is the exception which proves the +rule in this case, and every one drinks an excellent, wholesome light +claret which is absurdly and delightfully cheap, and which comes straight +from Bordeaux. Ribbons, clothes, boots and gloves, all things of that +sort, are also expensive, but not unreasonably so when the enormous cost +of carriage is taken into account. Everything comes by the only direct +line of communication with England, in the "Messageries Maritimes," which +is a swift but costly mode of transmission. Still, all actual necessaries +are cheap and plentiful in spite of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span> the teeming population one sees +everywhere.</p> + +<p>In our daily evening walk we cut off a corner through the bazaar, and it +is most amusing to see and hear the representatives of all the countries +of the East laughing, jangling and chatting in their own tongues, and +apparently all at once. Besides Indians from each presidency, there are +crowds of Chinese, Cingalese, Malabars, Malagask, superadded to the creole +population. They seem orderly enough, though perhaps the police reports +could tell a different tale. If only the daylight would last longer in +these latitudes, where exercise is only possible after sundown! However +early we set forth, the end of the walk is sure to be accomplished +stumblingly in profound darkness. Happily, there are no snakes or +poisonous reptiles of any sort, nor have I yet seen anything more +personally objectionable than a mosquito. I rather owe a grudge, though, +to a little insect called the mason-fly, which has a perfect passion for +running up mud huts (compared to its larger edifices on the walls and +ceiling) on my blotting-books and between the leaves of my pet volumes. +The white ants are the worst insect foe we have, and the stories I hear of +their performances would do credit to the Arabian Nights. I have already +learned to consider as pets the little soft brown lizards which emerge +from behind the picture-frames at night as soon as ever the lamps are lit. +They come out to catch the flies on the ceiling, and stalk their prey in +the cleverest and stealthiest fashion. Occasionally, however, they quarrel +with each other, and have terrific combats over head, with the invariable +result of a wriggling inch of tail dropping down on one's book or paper. +This cool weather is of course the time when one is freest from insect +visitors, and I have not yet seen any butterflies. A stray grasshopper, +with green wings folded exactly like a large leaf, or an inquisitive +mantis, blunders on to my writing-table occasionally, but not often enough +to be anything but welcome. As my sitting-room may be said, speaking +architecturally, to consist merely of a floor and ceiling, there is no +reason why all the insects in the island should not come in at any one of +its seven open doors (I have no windows) if they choose.</p> + +<p>The houses are very pretty, however, in spite of their being all doorway. +The polished floors—unhappily, mine are painted <i>red</i>, which is a great +sorrow to me—the large rooms, with nice furniture and a wealth of +flowers, give a look of great comfort and elegance to the interior. The +wide, low verandas are shaded on the sunny side by screens or blinds of +ratan painted green, and from the ceiling dangle baskets, large baskets, +filled with every imaginable variety of fern. I never saw anything like +the beauty of the foliage. The <i>leaves</i> of the plants would give color and +variety enough without the flowers, and they too are in profusion. Every +house stands in its own grounds, and I think I may say that every house +has a beautiful shrubbery and garden attached to it. Of course, with all +this warm rain constantly falling, the pruning-knife is as much needed as +the spade, but the natives make excellent and clever gardeners, and every +place is well and neatly kept. Mine is the only overgrown and yet empty +garden I have seen, but, all the same, I have more flowers in my +drawing-room than any one else, for all my neighbors take compassion on me +and send me baskets full of the loveliest roses every morning. Then it is +only necessary to send old Bonhomme, the gardener, a little way down the +steep side of the ravine to pick as much maiden-hair or other delicate +ferns as would stock the market at Covent Garden for a week.</p> + +<p>If it were not for everybody being in such a terror about their health, +this lonely little island would be a very charming place. But ever since +<i>the</i> fever a feeling of sanitary distrust seems to have sprung up among +the inhabitants, which strikes a newcomer very vividly. The European +inhabitants <i>look</i> very well, and the ladies and children are far more +blooming—though I acknowledge it is a delicate bloom—than any one I saw +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span> Natal. Still, you can detect that the question of health is uppermost +in the public mind. If a house is spoken of, its only recommendation need +be that it is healthy. There is very little society at night, because +night air is considered dangerous: even the chief attraction of +lawn-tennis, the universal game here, is that "it is so healthy." And to +see the way the gentlemen wrap up after it in coats which seem to have +been made for arctic wear! Of course they are quite right to be careful, +and it is a comfort to know that with proper care and the precautions +taught by experience there is no reason why, under the blessing of God, a +European should not enjoy as good health in Mauritius as in other places +with a better reputation. There are nearly always cases of fever in Port +Louis, and three or four deaths a day from it; but then the native white +and creole population is very large, and the proportion is not so +alarming.</p> + +<p>One of the things which I think are not generally understood is, how +completely the whole place is French. It is not in the least like any +colony which I have ever seen. It is a comfortable settlement, where +families have intermarried and taken root in the soil, regarding it with +quite as fond and fervent an affection as we bear to our own country. +Instead of the apologies for, and abuse of, a colony (woe to you if <i>you</i> +find fault, however!) with which your old colonist greets a new arrival, I +find here a strong patriotic sentiment of pride and love, which is +certainly well merited. When you take into consideration the tiny +dimensions of the island, its distance from all the centres of +civilization, its isolation, the great calamities which have befallen it +from hurricane, drought and pestilence, and the way it has overlived them +all, there is every justification for the pride and glory of its +inhabitants in their fair and fertile islet. Never were such good roads: I +don't know how they are managed or who keeps them in order, except that I +believe everything in the whole place is done by government. Certainly, +government ought to be patted on the back if those neat, wide, well-kept +roads are its handiwork. But, as I was saying, it is a surprise to most +English comers to find how thoroughly French the whole place is, and you +perceive the change first and chiefly in the graceful and courteous +manners of the people of all grades and classes. Instead of the delightful +British stare and avoidance of strangers, every one, from the highest +official to the poorest peasant, has a word or bow of greeting for the +passer-by; and especially is this genial civility to be admired and +noticed at the railway-stations and in the carriages. You never hear +English spoken except among a few officials, and a knowledge of French is +the first necessity of life here. Unhappily, there is a patois in use +among the creoles and other natives which is very confusing. It is made up +of a strange jumble of Eastern languages, grafted on a debased kind of +French, and gabbled with the rapidity of lightning and a great deal of +gesticulation. At a ball you hear far more French than English spoken, and +at a concert I attended lately not a single song was in English. Even in +the Protestant churches there is a special service held in French every +Sunday, as well as another in Tamil, besides the English services; so a +clergyman in Mauritius needs to be a good linguist. The polished floors, +well <i>frotté</i> every morning, and the rather set-out style of the rooms, +all make a house look French. The business of the law-courts and the +newspapers are also in French, with only here and there a column of +English. The notifications of distances, the weights and measures, the +"avis aux voyageurs," the finger-posts, wayside bills, signs on +shop-fronts, are all in French. When by any chance the owner of a shop +breaks out into an English notification of his wares—and it is generally +a Chinaman or Parsee who is fired by this noble ambition—the result is as +difficult to decipher as if it were a cuneiform inscription.</p> + +<p>The greatest difference, as it is the one which most affects my individual +comfort, which I have yet found out between Mauritius and an ordinary +English colony is the poverty of the book-shops. Your true creole is not a +reading character, though,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span> on the other hand, he has a great and natural +taste for music. I miss the one or even two excellent book shops where one +could get, at quite reasonable prices too, most of the new and readable +books which I have always found in the chief town of every English colony. +At Cape Town, Christchurch, New Zealand, Maritzburg, D'Urban, there are +far better booksellers than in most English country towns. Here it appears +to me as if the love of literature were confined to the few English +officials, who devour each other's half dozen volumes with an appetite +which speaks terribly of a state of chronic mental famine. I keep hoping +that I shall always be as busy as I am now, and so have very little time +for reading, for if it is ever otherwise I too shall experience the +universal starvation.</p> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Beau Bassin</span>, June 20th.</p> + +<p>It has never been my lot hitherto, even in all my various wanderings, to +stand of a clear starlight night and see the dear old Plough shining in +the northern sky whilst the Southern Cross rode high in the eastern +heaven. But I can see them both now; and the last thing I always do before +going to bed is to go out and look first straight before me, where the +Plough hangs luminous and low over the sea, and then stroll toward the +right-hand or eastern side of the veranda and gaze up at the beautiful +Cross through the rustling, tall tree-tops. It is much too cold now to sit +out in the wide veranda and either watch the stars or try to catch a +glimpse of the monkeys peeping up over the edge of the ravine in the +moonlight, thereby awakening poor rheumatic old Boxer's futile rage by +their gambols. My favorite theory is that one is never so cold as in a +tropical country, and I have had great encouragement in that idea lately. +We are always regretting that no fireplace has been included in the +internal arrangements of this house, and when we go out to dinner part of +the pleasure of the evening consists in getting well roasted in front of a +coal-fire in the drawing-room. I am assured that a few months hence I +shall utterly deny this said theory, and refuse to believe the fireplaces +I see occasionally could ever be used except as receptacles for pots of +ferns and large-leaved plants. At present, however, it is, as I say, +delightfully, bracingly cold in the morning and evening, and almost too +cold for comfort at night unless indeed you are well provided with +blankets. We take long walks of three or four miles of an evening, +starting when the sun sinks low enough for the luxuriant hedges by the +roadside to afford us occasional shelter, and returning either in the +starlight dusk or in the crisper air of a moonlight evening. In every +direction the walk is sure to be a pretty one, whether we have the hill of +the Corps-de-Garde before us, with its distinctly-marked profile of a +French soldier of the days of the Empire lying with crossed hands, the +head and feet cutting the sky-line sharp and clear, or the bolder outlines +of blue Mount Ory or cloud-capped Pieter Both. Our path always lies +through a splendid tangle of vegetation, where the pruning-knife seems the +only gardening tool needed, and where the deepening twilight brings out +many a heavy perfume from some hidden flower. Above us bends a vault of +lapis-lazuli, with globes of light hanging in it, and around us is a +heavenly, soft and balmy air. Whenever I say to a resident how delicious I +find it all, he or she is sure to answer dolefully, "Wait till the hot +weather!" But my idea is, that if there <i>is</i> this terrible time in front +of us, it is surely all the more reason why we should enjoy immensely the +agreeable present. That there is some very different weather to be battled +with is apparent by the extraordinary shutters one sees to all the houses. +Imagine doors built as if to stand a siege, strengthened by heavy +cross-pieces of wood close together, and, instead of bolt or lock, kept in +their places by solid iron bars as thick as my wrist. Every door and +window in the length and breadth of the island is furnished with these +<i>contre-vents</i>, or hurricane-shutters, and they tell their own tale. So do +the huge stones, or rather rocks, with which the roofs of the humbler +houses and verandas are weighted. My expression of face must have been +something amusing when I remarked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span> triumphantly the other day to one of my +acquaintances, who had just observed that my house stood in a very exposed +situation, "But it has been built a great many years, and must have stood +the great hurricanes of 1848 and 1868." "Ah!" replied Cassandra +cheerfully; "there was not much left of it, I fancy, after the '48 +hurricane, and I <i>know</i> that the veranda was blown right <i>over</i> the house +in the gale of '68." Was not that a cheerful tale to hear of one's house? +Just now the weather is wet and windy as well as cold, and the constant +and capricious heavy showers reduce the lawn-tennis players to despair.</p> + +<p>If any one asked me what was the serious occupation of my life here, I +should answer without hesitation, "Airing my clothes." And it would be +absolutely true. No one who has not seen it can imagine the damp and +mildew which cover everything if it be shut up for even a few days. +Ammonia in the box or drawer keeps the gloves from being spotted like the +pard, but nothing seems to avail with the other articles of clothing. +Linen feels quite wet if it is left unused in the <i>almirah</i>, or chest of +drawers, for a week. Silk dresses break out into a measle-like rash of +yellow spots. Cotton or muslin gowns become livid and take unto themselves +a horrible charnel-house odor. Shoes and books are speedily covered a +quarter of an inch deep by a mould which you can easily imagine would +begin to grow ferns and long grasses in another week or so.</p> + +<p>Hats, caps, cloth clothes, all share the same damp fate, whilst, as for +the poor books, their condition is enough to make one weep, and that in +spite of my constant attention and repeated dabbings with spirits of wine. +And this is not the dampest part of the island by any means. Do not +suppose, however, that damp is the only enemy to one's toilette here. I +found a snail the other day in my wardrobe which had been journeying +slowly but effectively across some favorite silken skirts. Cockroaches +prefer tulle and net, and eat their way recklessly and rapidly through +choicest lace, besides nibbling every cloth-bound book in the island. On +the other hand, the rats confine their attentions chiefly to the boots and +shoes of the resident, and are at all events good friends to the makers +and sellers of those necessary articles. So, you see, garments are likely +to be a source of more trouble than pleasure to their possessor if he or +she is at all inclined to be always <i>tiré à quatre épingles</i>.</p> + +<p>Except these objectionable creatures, there is not much animal life astir +around me in the belle isle. It is too cold still for the butterflies, and +I do not observe much variety among the birds. There are flocks of minas +always twittering about my lawn—glossy birds very like starlings in their +shape and impudent ways, only with more white in the plumage and with +brilliant orange-colored circles round their eyes. There are plenty of +paroquets, I am told, and cardinal birds, but I have not yet seen them. A +sort of hybrid canary whistles and chirps in the early mornings, and I +hear the shrill wild note of a merle every now and then. Of winged game +there are but few varieties—partridges, quails, guinea-fowl and pigeons +making up the list—but, on the other hand, poultry seems to swarm +everywhere. I never saw such long-necked and long-legged cocks and hens in +my life as I see here; but these feathered giraffes appear to thrive +remarkably well, and scratch and cackle around every Malabar hut. I have +not seen a sheep or a goat since I arrived, nor a cow or bullock grazing. +The milch cows are all stall-fed. The bullocks go straight from shipboard +to the butcher, and the horses are never turned out. This is partly +because there is no pasturage, the land being used entirely for sugar-cane +or else left in small patches of jungle. As might be expected from such a +volcanic-looking island, the surface of the ground is extremely stony, but +the sugar-cane loves the light soil, and I am told that it thrives best +where the stones are just turned aside and a furrow left for the +cane-plant. After a year or so the furrow is changed by the rocks being +rolled back again into their original places, and the space they occupied +is then available for young plants. The wild hares are terrible enemies to +the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span> shoots of the cane, and we pass picturesque <i>gardiens</i> armed +with amazing <i>fusils</i> and clad in every variety of picturesque rag, +keeping a sort of boundary-guard at the edges of the sprouting +cane-fields. There are a great many dogs to be seen about, and they are +also regarded as gardiens; for the swarming miscellaneous Eastern +population does not bear the best reputation in the world for honesty, and +the police seem to have their hands full. All that I know about the use of +the dogs as auxiliaries is that they yelp and bark hideously all night at +each other, for every one seems to resent as a personal insult any +nocturnal visit from a neighbor's dog.</p> + +<p>The horses are better than I expected. When one hears that every +four-footed beast has to be imported, one naturally expects dear and +indifferent horses, but I am agreeably surprised in this respect. We have +horses from the Cape, from Natal, and even from Australia, and they do not +appear to cost more here than they would in their respective countries. I +may add that there is also no difficulty whatever in providing yourself +with an excellent carriage of any kind you prefer, and it is far better to +choose one here than to import one. I mention this because a carriage or +conveyance of some sort is the necessary of necessaries here—as +indispensable as a pair of boots would be in England. I scarcely ever see +any one on horseback: people never seem to ride, to my great regret. I am +assured that it will be much too hot to do so in the summer evenings, and +that the hardness of the roads prevents riding from being an agreeable +mode of exercise. Every village can furnish sundry <i>carrioles</i> for hire, +queer-looking little conveyances, like a minute section of a tilt-cart +mounted on two crazy wheels and drawn by a rat of a pony. Ponies are a +great institution here, and are really more suitable for ordinary work +than horses. They are imported in large numbers from Pegu and other parts +of Birmah, and also from Java, Timur and different places in the Malay +Archipelago. They stand about twelve or fourteen hands high, and are the +strongest, healthiest, pluckiest little beauties imaginable, full of fire +and go. Occasionally I meet a carriage drawn by a handsome pair of mules, +and they are much used in the numerous carts and for farm-work, especially +on the sugar estates. They are chiefly brought from South America and from +the Persian Gulf, and have many admirers, but I cannot say I like them as +a substitute either for horses or for the gay little ponies. This is such +an exceedingly sociable place that I have frequent opportunities of +looking at the nice horses of my visitors, and most of the equipages would +do credit to any establishment. The favorite style of carriage in use here +is very like a victoria, only there is a curious custom of <i>always</i> +keeping the hood up. It looks so strange to my eyes to see the hood, which +projects unusually far as a screen against either sun or rain, kept +habitually up, even during the brief and balmy twilight, when one fancies +it would be so much more agreeable to drive swiftly through the soft air +without any screening <i>soufflet</i>. Of course it would be quite necessary to +keep it up in the daytime, or even late at night against the heavy dew, +but this does not begin to fall until it is too dark to remain out +driving.</p> + +<p>I must say I like Mauritius extremely. It is so <i>comfortable</i> to live in a +place with good servants and commodious houses, and the society is +particularly refined and agreeable, owing chiefly to the mixture of a +strong French element in its otherwise humdrum ingredients. I have never +seen such a wealth of lovely hair or such beautiful eyes and teeth as I +observe in the girls in every ball-room here; and when you add exceedingly +charming—alas! that I must say foreign—manners and a great deal of +musical talent, you can easily imagine that the style of the society is a +good deal above that to be found in most colonies.</p> + +<p>What weigh upon me most sadly in the Mauritius are the solitude and the +intense loneliness of the little island. We are very gay and pleasant +among ourselves, but I often feel as if I were in a dream as far as the +rest of the world is concerned, or as if we were all living<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span> in another +planet. Only once in a month does the least whisper reach us from the +great outer world beyond our girdling reef of breaking foam: only once in +four long weeks can any tidings come to us from those we love and are +parted from—any news of the progress of events, any thrilling incidents +of daily history; and it is strange how diluted the sense of interest +becomes by passing through so long an interval of days and weeks. The +force of everything is weakened, its strength broken. Can you fancy the +position of a ship at sea, not voyaging toward any port or harbor, but +moored in the midst of a vast, desolate ocean? Once in a weary while of +thirty days another ship passes and throws some mailbags on board, and +whilst we stretch out clamorous hands and cry for fuller tidings, for more +news, the vessel has passed out of our reach, and we are absolutely alone +once more. It is the strangest sensation, and I do not think one can ever +get reconciled to it. True, there is a great deal of talk just now about a +connecting cable which is some day to join us by electric wires to the +centres of civilization; but no telegraphic message can ever make up for +letters, and it will always be too costly for private use except on great +emergencies. Strange to say, the mercantile community, which is a very +influential one here, objects strongly to proposals of either telegraphic +or increased postal communication. They have no doubt good reasons for +their opinion, but I think if their pretty little children were on the +other side of the world, instead of close at hand, they would agree with +me that it is very hard to wait for four weeks between the mails.</p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="AN_ADVENTURE_IN_CYPRUS" id="AN_ADVENTURE_IN_CYPRUS"></a>AN ADVENTURE IN CYPRUS</h2></div> + + +<p>"So this is Cyprus?" cries my English companion, Mr. James P——, turning +his glass with a critical air upon the glorious panorama that lies +outspread before us in all the splendor of the June sunrise. "Well, upon +my word, it's not so bad, after all!"</p> + +<p>Such a landscape, however, merits far higher praise than this thoroughly +English commendation. To the right surge up against the bright morning +sky, wave beyond wave, an endless succession of green sunny slopes which +might pass for the "Delectable Mountains" of Bunyan. To the left cluster +the vineyards which have supplied for nineteen centuries the far-famed +"wine of Cyprus." In front extends a wide sweep of smooth white sand, +ending on one side in a bold rocky ridge, and on the other in the tall +white houses and straggling streets and painted church-towers and gilded +cupolas of the quaint old town of Larnaka, which, outlined against a +shadowy background of purple hills, appears to us as just it did to +Cœur de Lion and his warriors when they landed here seven hundred years +ago on their way to the fatal crusade from which so few of them were to +return.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> And all around, a fit frame for such a picture, extend the blue +sparkling sea and the warm, dreamy, voluptuous summer sky.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it here that Fortunatus used to live?" says P——. "I wish I could +find his purse lying about somewhere: it would come in very handy just +now."</p> + +<p>"You forget that its virtue ended with his life," answer I; "and, +moreover, the illustrious man didn't live here, but at Famagosta, farther +along the coast, where, I dare say, the first Greek you meet will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span> show +you 'ze house of Signor Fortunato,' and the original purse to boot, all +for the small charge of one piastre."</p> + +<p>Our landing is beset by the usual mob of yelling vagabonds, eager to +lighten our pockets by means of worthless native "curiosities," "antiques" +manufactured a month before, or vociferous offers to show us "all ze fine +sight of ze town, ver' sheap." Just as we have succeeded in fighting our +way through the hurly-burly a venerable old Smyrniote with a long white +beard, in whom we recognize one of our fellow-passengers on the steamer, +accosts us with a low bow: "Want see ze old shursh, genteelmen? All ze +Signori Inglesi go see zat. You wish, I take you zere one minute."</p> + +<p>"All right!" shouts P—— with characteristic impetuosity: "I'm bound to +see all I can in the time. Drive on, old boy: I'm your man."</p> + +<p>Away we go, accordingly, along the deep, narrow, tunnel-like streets, +flanked on either side by tall blank houses such as meet one at every turn +in Cairo or Djeddah or Jerusalem, between whose projecting fronts the +sunny sky appears like a narrow strip of bright blue ribbon far away +overhead, while all below is veiled in a rich summer twilight of purple +shadow, like that which fills the interior of some vast cathedral. But +ever and anon a sudden break in the ranked masses of building gives us a +momentary glimpse of the broad shining sea and dazzling sunlight, which +falls upon many a group that a painter would love to copy—tall, gaunt +Armenians, whose high black caps and long dark robes make their pale, +hollow faces look doubly spectral; low-browed, sallow, bearded Russians; +brawny English sailors, looking down with a grand, indulgent contempt upon +those unhappy beings whom an inscrutable Providence has doomed to be +"foreigners;" stolid Turks, tramping onward in silent defiance of the +fierce looks cast at them from every side; sinewy Dalmatians, with +close-cropped black hair; dapper Frenchmen, with well-trimmed moustaches, +casting annihilating glances at the few ladies who happen to be abroad; +and barefooted Greeks, with little baskets of fruit or fish perched on +their heads—ragged, wild-eyed and brigand-like as the lazzaroni who rose +from the pavement of Naples at the call of Masaniello.</p> + +<p>"Awful rascals some of these fellows look, eh?" remarks P—— in a stage +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, their faces are certainly no letter of recommendation. There is some +truth, undoubtedly, in the <i>last</i> clause of the old proverb: 'Greek wines +steal all heads, Greek women steal all hearts, and Greek men steal +everything.'"</p> + +<p>But at this moment our attention is drawn to a crowd a little way ahead, +the centre of attraction being apparently a good-looking young Greek from +the Morea, whose jaunty little crimson cap with its hanging tassel sets +off very tastefully his dark, handsome face and the glossy black curls +which surround it. He is leaning against the pillar of a gateway in an +attitude of unstudied grace that would charm an Italian painter, and +singing, to the accompaniment of his little three-stringed guitar, a +lively Greek song, of which we only come up in time to catch the last +verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look in mine eyes, lady fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There your own image you'll see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Open my heart and look there:<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>There</i> too your image will be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The coppers that chink into the singer's extended hat show how fully his +efforts are appreciated; but at this moment P——, with the free-and-easy +command of a true John Bull, elbows his way through the throng, and calls +out: "Holloa, Johnny! we only got the fag-end of that song. Tip us +another, and here's five piastres for you" (about twenty-five cents).</p> + +<p>The musician seems to understand him, and with a slight preliminary +flourish on his instrument pours forth, in a voice as clear and rippling +as the carol of a bird, a song which may be thus translated:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Men fret, men toil, men pinch and pare,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make life itself a scramble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I, without a grief or care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er it lists me ramble.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath cloudless sun or clouded moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By market-cross or ferry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I chant my lay, I play my tune.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all who hear are merry.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When summer's sun unclouded shines,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mountain-shadows linger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I watch them dance among the vines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As quicker moves my finger;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so they sport till day is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And black-robed Night advances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the maidens tripped before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lovely moonbeam dances.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When 'neath the rush of winter's rain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dripping forests welter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shepherd opes his door amain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gives me food and shelter.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I touch my chords, I trill my lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The firelight glances o'er us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wind and rain, in stormy play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Join in with lusty chorus.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid rustling leaves, 'neath open sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I live like lark or swallow:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not a bird more free to fly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than I am free to follow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when grim Death his bow shall bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mortal course suspending,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh may my life, howe'er it end,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have music in its ending!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Such music, supplemented by such a voice, strongly tempts us to remain and +hear more; but our impatient guide urges us onward, and in another minute +we stand before the dark, low-browed archway of the old church which we +have come to see.</p> + +<p>The quaint architecture of the outside is strange and old-world enough, +but when we enter, the dim interior, haunted by weird shadows and ghostly +echoes, has quite an unearthly effect after the bustling life of the city. +As is usual in Greek and Russian churches, there are no seats of any kind, +the whole interior being one wide bare space, dimly lighted by the two +tall candles on the altar and a few little oil-lamps attached to the +pictures of saints adorning the walls. The decorations have that air of +tawdry finery which is the most displeasing feature of the Eastern +churches; but the four frescoes at the farther end (representing the +Adoration of the Magi, our Lord's Baptism, the Crucifixion, and the +Descent into Hell), rude as they are, have a grim power which takes hold +of our fancy at once. Dante himself might approve the last of the four, in +which the lurid atmosphere, the hideous contortions of the demons, and the +surging flight of the half-awakened dead, with their blank faces and stony +eyes, contrast magnificently with the grand calmness of the divine Figure +in the centre—a perfect realization of the noble words of Milton:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Some howled, some shrieked,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some bent their fiery darts at thee, while Thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat'st unappalled in calm and sinless peace.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The only occupant of the building is a tall, dignified-looking priest, who +at once takes upon himself the part of expositor; but he is suddenly +interrupted by the hurried entrance of a man who whispers something in his +ear. The priest instantly vanishes into the sacristy, and, reappearing +with something like a casket under his arm, goes hastily out, muttering as +he passes us some words which my comrade interprets as "Follow me."</p> + +<p>We obey at once; but, in truth, it is no light matter to do so, for the +good father sets off at a pace which, considering the heat of the day and +the weight of his trailing robes, is simply astounding. Up one street, +down another, round a corner, along a narrow lane—on he rushes as if bent +upon rivalling that indefatigable giant who "walked round the world every +morning before breakfast to sharpen his appetite."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" mutters P——, mopping his streaming face for the twentieth +time, "what he's going to show us ought to be something special, by the +hurry he's in to get to it. Anyhow, it's a queer style of showing us the +way, to go pelting on like that, and leave us to take care of ourselves. +I'll just halloo to him to slacken speed a bit."</p> + +<p>But just as he is about to do so the priest halts suddenly in front of a +high, blank wall of baked clay, in the midst of which a door opens and +swallows him as if by magic. We come tearing up a moment later, and are +about to enter at his heels when our way is unexpectedly barred by an ugly +old Greek with one eye and with a threadbare crimson cap pulled down over +his lean, sallow face, which looks very much like a half-decayed cucumber. +"What do you want?" he growls, eying us from head to foot with the air of +a bulldog about to bite.</p> + +<p>We explain our errand, and are electrified with the information that we +have been on the point of intruding ourselves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span> into a private house; that +the priest's business there is to pray over the master of it, who is +dangerously ill; and that, in short, we have been "hunting upon a false +scent" altogether. Having imparted this satisfactory information, Cerberus +shuts the door in our faces (which are sufficiently blank by this time), +and leaves us to think over the matter at our leisure.</p> + +<p>"Confound the old mole!" growls P—— wrathfully: "if he didn't want us, +why on earth did he tell us to follow him, I should like to know?"</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure that he <i>did</i> say so?" ask I. "What were the Greek +words that he used?"</p> + +<p>"'Mê akolouthei,' or something like that."</p> + +<p>"Which means, '<i>Don't</i> follow,'" I retort, transfixing the abashed +offender with a look of piercing reproach. "If <i>that's</i> all that's left of +your Greek, you'd better buy a lexicon and take a fresh start. However, +there's nobody to tell tales if <i>we</i> don't, that's one comfort."</p> + +<p>And so ends the first and last of our adventures in Cyprus.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">David Ker.</span></p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="NEIGHBORLY_LOVE" id="NEIGHBORLY_LOVE"></a>NEIGHBORLY LOVE.</h2></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Eine Welt zwar bist du, O Rom; doch ohne die Liebe<br /> +Wäre die Welt nicht die Welt, wäre denn Rom auch nicht Rom.—<span class="smcap">Goethe</span>: <i>Elegy I</i>.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> + +<span class="i0">"Maytide in Rome! The air 's a mist of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In rainbow colors are the fountains springing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streets are like a garden to behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in my heart a choir of birds are singing.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haste to thy window, love: I wait for thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High o'er the narrow lane our glance may meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our stretched hands all but clasp. Hither to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make the glory of the hour complete.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No sound, no sign! The bowed blinds are not stirred.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I dare not cry, lest from the common street<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some passing idler catch one sacred word<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's dedicate to her. How may I greet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love to-day? how may I lure her near?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! I will write my message on her wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In living sunshine. She shall see and hear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The silent fire of heaven shall sound my call."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He draws his casement: on the glittering glass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A captured sunbeam flashes sudden flame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between her blinds demure he makes it pass:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its joyous radiance tells her whence it came.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She feels its presence like a fiery kiss;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mantling her face leaps up the maiden's blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She flies to greet him. Oh immortal bliss!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ever thus is old Rome's youth renewed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Emma Lazarus.</span></p> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span></p> +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP" id="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP"></a>OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</h2></div> + + + +<h3>POE AND MRS. WHITMAN.</h3> + +<p>Burns's Highland Mary, Petrarch's Laura, and other real and imaginary +loves of the poets, have been immortalized in song, but we doubt whether +any of the numerous objects of poetical adoration were more worthy of +honor than Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman, the friend and defender of Edgar A. +Poe. That he should have inspired so deep and lasting a love in the heart +of so true and pure a woman would alone prove that he was not the social +pariah his vindictive enemies have held up to the world's wonder and +detestation. The poet's love for Mrs. Whitman was the one gleam of hope +that cheered the last sad years of his life. His letters to her breathed +the most passionate devotion and the most enthusiastic admiration. One +eloquent extract from his love-letters to Mrs. Whitman will suffice. In +response to a passage in one of her letters in which she says, "How often +have I heard men, and even women, say of you, 'He has great intellectual +power, but no principle, no moral sense'!" he exclaims: "I love you too +truly ever to have offered you my hand, ever to have sought your love, had +I known my name to be so stained as your expressions imply. There is no +oath which seems to me so sacred as that sworn by the all-divine love I +bear you. By this love, then, and by the God who reigns in heaven, I swear +to you that my soul is incapable of dishonor. I can call to mind no act of +my life which would bring a blush to my cheek or to yours."</p> + +<p>Carried away by the ardor and eloquent passion of her poet-lover, and full +of the sweetest human sympathy and the tenderest human charity for one so +gifted but so unfortunate, Mrs. Whitman, against the advice of her +relatives and friends, consented to a conditional engagement. It was in +relation to this engagement, and the cause of its being broken off, that +one of the most calumnious stories against Poe was told, and believed both +in America and in Europe, but especially in England. Why the engagement +was broken, and by whom, still remains buried in mystery, but that Poe was +guilty of any "outrage" at her house upon the eve of their intended +marriage was emphatically denied by Mrs. Whitman. She pronounced the whole +story a "calumny." In a letter before me she says: "I do not think it +possible to overstate the gentlemanly reticence and amenity of his +habitual manner. It was stamped through and through with the impress of +nobility and gentleness. I have seen him in many moods and phases in those +'lonesome, latter years' which were rapidly merging into the mournful +tragedy of death. I have seen him sullen and moody under a sense of insult +and imaginary wrong. I have <i>never</i> seen in him the faintest indication of +savagery and rowdyism and brutality."</p> + +<p>Some of the most tenderly passionate of Mrs. Whitman's verses were +inspired by her affection for Poe. She wrote six sonnets to his memory, +overflowing with the most exalted love and generous sympathy. The first of +these sonnets ends thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Thou</i> wert my destiny: thy song, thy fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild enchantments clustering round thy name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were my soul's heritage—its regal dower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its glory, and its kingdom, and its power.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>When malice had exhausted itself in heaping obloquy upon the name of the +dead poet, it was the gentle hand of woman that first removed the odium +from his memory. It was Mrs. Whitman—who loved him and whom he +loved—that dared to penetrate the "mournful corridors" of that sad, +desolate heart, with its "halls of tragedy and chambers of retribution," +and tell the true but melancholy story of the unhappy master of the Raven. +It was she who generously came forward as "one of the friends" of him who +was said to have no friends. She was his steady champion from first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span> to +last. Whether it was some crackbrain scribbler who tried to prove Poe +"mad," some accomplished scholar who endeavored to disparage him in order +to magnify some other writer, or some silly woman who attempted to foist +herself into notice by relating "imaginary facts" concerning the poet's +hidden life, Mrs. Whitman was always ready to defend her dead friend.</p> + +<p>One of the most touching incidents in Poe's early life was his affection +and fidelity to Mrs. Helen Stannard, who had completely won the sensitive +boy's heart by her kindness to him when he came to her house with her son, +a favorite school-friend. This lady died under circumstances of peculiar +sorrow, and her young admirer was in the habit of visiting her grave every +night. It was she—"the one idolatrous and purely ideal love" of his +passionate boyhood—who inspired those exquisite lines, "Helen, thy beauty +is to me." Mr. Richard Henry Stoddard, in his article on Poe published in +<i>Harper's Monthly</i> for May, 1872, says, in allusion to Mrs. Stannard: "The +memory of this lady <i>is said</i> to have suggested the most beautiful of his +minor poems, 'Helen,' though I am not aware <i>that Poe ever countenanced +the idea</i>." As Mrs. Whitman had distinctly stated in <i>Edgar Poe and his +Critics</i> that Mrs. Stannard <i>had</i> inspired the poem, she addressed a note +to Mr. Stoddard upon the subject, to which he sent the following reply: +"<span class="smcap">My Dear Mrs. Whitman</span>: So many months have elapsed since I wrote +the paper on Poe about which you write that I am unable to remember what I +said in it. I certainly had no intention to discredit any statement that +you made in <i>Edgar Poe and his Critics</i>, and if I have done so I am sorry +for it, and ask your forgiveness."</p> + +<p>In one of Mrs. Whitman's letters, now lying before me, she says: "So much +has been written, and so much still continues to be written, about Poe by +persons who are either his avowed or secret enemies, that I joyfully +welcome every friendly or impartial word spoken in his behalf. His enemies +are uttering their venomous fabrications in every newspaper, and so few +voices can obtain a hearing in his defence. My own personal knowledge of +Mr. Poe was very brief, although it comprehended memorable incidents, and +was doubtless, as he kindly characterized it in one of his letters of the +period, 'the most earnest epoch of his life;' and such I devoutly and +emphatically believe it to have been. You ask me to furnish you with +extracts from his letters, literary or otherwise. There are imperative +reasons why these letters cannot and <i>ought</i> not to be published at +present—not that there was a word or a thought in them discreditable to +Poe, though some of them were imprudent, doubtless, and liable to be +construed wrongly by his enemies. They are for the most part strictly +<i>personal</i>. The only extract from them of which I have authorized the +publication is a fac-simile of a paragraph inserted between the 68th and +69th pages of Mr. Ingram's memoir in Black's (Edinburgh) edition of the +complete works of Poe. The paragraph in the original letter (dated +November 24, 1848) consists of only eight lines: 'The agony which I have +so lately endured—an agony known only to my God and to myself—seems to +have passed my soul through fire, and purified it from all that is weak. +Henceforward I am strong: this those who love me shall see, as well as +those who have so relentlessly endeavored to ruin me. It needed only some +such trials as I have just undergone to make me what I was born to be by +making me conscious of my own strength.' This and a protest against the +charge of indifference to moral obligations so often urged against him, +which I permitted Mr. Gill to extract for publication from a long letter +filled with eloquent and proud remonstrance against the injustice of such +a charge, are the only passages of which I have authorized the +publication. Other letters have been published without my consent. I have +endeavored to reconcile myself to the unauthorized use of private letters +and papers, since the effect of their publication has been on the whole +regarded as favorable to Poe."</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Whitman who first attempted to trace Edgar Poe's descent from +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span> old Norman family of Le Poer, which emigrated to Ireland during the +reign of Henry II. of England. Lady Blessington, through her father, +Edmund Power, claimed the same illustrious descent. The Le Poers were +distinguished for being improvident, daring and reckless. The family +originally belonged to Italy, whence they passed to the north of France, +and went to England with William the Conqueror. In a letter dated January +3, 1877, Mrs. Whitman says: "For all that I said on the subject I <i>alone</i> +am responsible. A distant relative of mine, a descendant, like myself, +from Nicholas le Poer, had long ministered to my genealogical proclivities +by stories which from my childhood had vaguely haunted and charmed my +imagination. When I discovered certain facts of Poe's history of which he +had previously made little account, he seemed greatly impressed by my +theory of our relationship. Of course I endowed him with my traditional +heirlooms. John Savage, who wrote some fine papers on Poe, which I <i>think</i> +appeared in the <i>Democratic Review</i>, perhaps in 1858, said to a friend of +mine that the things most interesting and valuable to him in my little +book (<i>Poe and his Critics</i>) were its genealogical hints."</p> + +<p>When M. Stephane Mallarmé, an enthusiastic admirer of Poe's, undertook to +translate his works into French, he addressed Mrs. Whitman a complimentary +letter, from which the following passages are translated: "Whatever is +done to honor the memory of a genius the most truly divine the world has +seen, ought it not first to obtain your sanction? Such of Poe's works as +our great Baudelaire left untranslated—that is to say, the poems and many +of the literary criticisms—I hope to make known to France. My first +attempt, 'Le Corbeau,' of which I send you a specimen, is intended to +attract attention to a future work now nearly completed. I trust that the +attempt will meet your approval, but no possible success of my future +design could cause you, madam, a satisfaction equal to the joy, vivid, +profound and absolute, caused by an extract from one of your letters in +which you expressed a wish to see a copy of my 'Corbeau.' Not only in +space—which is nothing—but in <i>time</i>, made up for each of us of the +hours we deem most memorable in the past, your wish seemed to come to me +from <i>so</i> far, and to bring with it the most delicious return of long +cherished memories; for, fascinated with the works of Poe from my infancy, +it has been a long time that your name has been associated with his in my +earliest and most intimate sympathies. Receive, madam, this expression of +a gratitude such as your poetical soul may comprehend, for it is my inmost +heart that thanks you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whitman translated Mallarmé's inscription intended for the Poe +monument in Baltimore. The last verse was thus rendered:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through storied centuries thou shall proudly stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the Memorial City of his land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silent monitor, austere and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To warn the clamorous brood of harpies from their prey.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>E.L.D.</p> + + +<h3>A LITTLE PERVERSITY IN WOMEN.</h3> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Mrs. Philip Markham.</span></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Philip Markham.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Miss Ethel Arnold.</span></td><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Frank Beverly.</span></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>(The four have been dining together and discussing the people +they had met some hours before at a reception.)</p></div> + + +<p><i>Philip Markham.</i> At all events, I call her a very beautiful woman.—Don't +you say so, Beverly? I am telling Miss Arnold that I considered Miss St. +John handsome.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Markham.</i> Oh, Philip, how can you say so?</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> I admired her immensely.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (with a shrug). Oh, I dare say. A round, soulless face, a large +waist—</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> You women have no eyes. She has cheeks (to quote Cherbuliez) +like those fruits one longs to bite into, a pair of fine eyes, well-cut +lips—(Breaks off and laughs).</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (severely). Pray go on.</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> Not while you regard me with that virtuous air of condemnation.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> I confess I saw nothing to admire in the girl except that she +looked healthy and strong.</p> + +<p><i>Miss Arnold.</i> Nor did I. Moreover, she had the fault of being badly +dressed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> She was beautiful, then, not by reason of her dress, as most of +your sex are, but in spite of it. You women always underrate physical +beauty in each other.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (pretending not to have heard Beverly's remark). Yes, Ethel, +very badly dressed, and her hair was atrociously arranged.</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> Oh, we did not look at her hair, we were so much attracted by +her face and figure.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (piqued). Take my advice, Ethel, and never marry. While we were +engaged Philip never thought of seeing beauty in any girl except myself: +now he is in a state of enthusiasm bordering upon frenzy over every new +face he comes across.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> He knows, I suppose, that you do not mind it—that you are the +more flattered the more he admires the entire sex.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> Of course I do not <i>mind</i> it: the only thing is—</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> Well, what is the only thing, Jenny?</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> You remember, Cousin Jenny, I was talking the other day about +the perversity of your sex. You either cannot or will not understand your +husbands: they hide nothing, extenuate nothing, yet you fail to grasp the +idea of that side of their minds which is at once the best and the most +dangerous. If Philip did not regard all women with interest, and some with +particular interest, he could not have had it in his head to be half so +much in love with you as he is.</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> That is true, Frank—so true that we won't ask how you found it +out.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> You men always stand by each other so faithfully! Now, I have +observed these traits among my married friends: the husbands invariably +give a half sigh at the sight of a beautiful girl, implying, "Oh, if I +were not a married man!" while the wives, on meeting a man who attracts +admiration, as uniformly believe that, let him be ever so handsome, clever +or fascinating, he cannot compare with their own particular John.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> That is true, Ethel; and it shows how much more faithful women +are than men.</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> Now, Jenny, that is nonsense.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Oh, I dare say there is a soupçon of truth in it. But I think I +could give wives a recipe for keeping their husbands' affections, which, +unpopular although it might be, would yet prove salutary.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> Give it by all means, Mr. Beverly. Anything so beneficial would +naturally be popular.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Pardon me, no. Were I to suggest a pilgrimage, a fast, or +scourgings even, the fair sex would undertake the remedy at once, for they +like some éclat about their smallest doings. All I want them to do is to +correct their little spirit of self-will and cultivate good taste.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> Women <i>self-willed</i>! Most women have no will at all.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> I never saw a woman yet who had not a will; and I am the last +person to deny their right to it. What I suggest is that they suit it to +the requirements of their lives, not let it torment them by going all +astray, by delighting in its errors and persisting in its chimeras.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> I grant the first, that we have wills, but I do insist that we +have good taste.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Now, then, we will consider this abstract question. I maintain +that, considering their interest in women and their natural zest in +pursuing them, men show more right up-and-down faithfulness and devotion +to their obligations than women do.</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> Hear! hear!</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> Oh, if you start upon the hypothesis that man is a being +incapable of—</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Not at all. You must, however, grant at the outset that man is +the free agent in society—has always been since the beginning of +civilization. He has made all the laws, enjoying complete immunity to suit +the requirements of his wishes and needs, yet everybody knows that, in +spite of the clamor of the woman-suffragists, all the laws favor women. +The basis of every system of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span> civilized society proves that men are +inclined to hold themselves strictly to their obligations toward your sex. +There is no culprit toward whom a jury of men are less lenient than one +who has manifested any light sense of his domestic duties. Is not that +true?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> I suppose it is. But it ought to be so, of course. It is +impossible for men to be good enough to their wives.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Just so. But what I claim is, that while every man holds, at +least theoretically, to the very highest ideal of a man's duties in the +marriage relation, very few wives render their husbands' existences so +altogether happy that these obligations become not only the habit but the +joy of their lives.—Don't interrupt me, Jenny.—Not but what the lovely +creatures are willing—nay, anxious—to do so, but just at the point of +accomplishment their little failings of blindness and perversity come in. +They are determined to retain their husbands' complete allegiance, but +their devices and contrivances are mostly dull blunders. Considering what +a frail tie, based on illusion, binds the sexes, my wonder as a bachelor +is that men are, as a rule, as faithful to their wives as they seem to be.</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> We have been friends, Frank, for fifteen years, and I married +your first cousin, but notwithstanding all that Jenny will insist now that +I give up your acquaintance.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> No, Philip, I am not angry with Frank: I only feel sorry for +him.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> So do I. Yet I am curious to know, Jenny, what he means by +saying that wives' devices to keep their husbands' love are mostly dull +blunders.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> I am waiting for a chance to develop my views. I know plenty of +men who are absolutely loyal to their wives—faithful to the smallest +obligation of married life—yet who regard their marriage as the great +folly of their youth. Now, a woman's intuitions ought to be, it seems to +me, so clear and unerring that she should never permit her face and voice +to become unpleasant to her husband. And this effect generally comes from +the absurdity of her attempts to hold him to her side: they have ended by +repelling him. Now, if your sex would only remember that we are horribly +fastidious, and that it is necessary to behave with good taste—</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> Oh! oh! Monster!</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> Barbarian!</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> I will give you an instance. In our trip up and down the +Saguenay last summer you both remember the bridal couple on board the +boat?</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> I remember the bride, a charming creature. The young fellow +could not compare with her in any qualities of cleverness or good looks.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Perhaps not. At the same time, he was her superior in some nice +points. Pretty although the bride was, and enviable as we considered his +good-luck, one could not help wincing for him when this delicate, refined +little creature "showed off" before the crowd of indifferent passengers. +At table she put her face so close to his, and when they stood or sat +together on deck she hung about him in such a way, that, as I noticed over +and over, it brought the blood to his cheeks and made him ashamed to raise +his eyes. Depend upon it, that young man, in spite of his infatuation, +said within himself a hundred times on his wedding-journey, "Poor innocent +little darling! she has no idea of the attention she attracts to us."</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (eagerly). Yes, she did know all about it. She was so proud of +being newly married that if everyone with whom she came in contact would +not allude to her position she made a point of confiding the fact that she +was a bride of a week, and actually wore me out with pouring her raptures +into my ears.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> Jenny, you should not have told that. It will confirm Mr. +Beverly in his cynicism regarding her want of taste.</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> I remember the morning the young fellow and I walked into +Chicoutimi together that I said to him, "Lately married, I believe?" and +he only nodded stiffly and pointed out the falls in the distance.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Now, it is a deliciously pretty blunder for a bride to proclaim +her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span> good-luck, but it is a blunder nevertheless. For six months a man +forgives it: after that he has no fondness for being paraded as a part and +parcel of a woman's belongings. By that time he has probably found out +that she is not all gushing unconsciousness. Besides this adorable +innocence I observed something else in this pretty bride. Despite her +fresh raptures, she was capable of jealousy: if her husband left her for +an hour he found her a trifle sullen on his return.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> She had nobody else.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> She naturally wanted to feel that he was interested in nothing +besides her.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> But she should not have shown it. This is another perverse and +suicidal inconsistency on a woman's part: she should never exhibit these +small meannesses of pique, sullen tempers, jealousy, to her husband, since +they place her wholly at a disadvantage, making her less attractive than +the objects she wishes to detach him from.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (a little embarrassed and looking toward her husband +deprecatingly, at which he laughs and shakes his head). Woman is a +creature of impulse. She does not study what it is most politic for her to +do: she gives herself utterly—she simply asks for everything in return.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Does she give herself utterly? Does she not generally keep an +accurate debit-and-credit account of what is due to her? Then the moment +she feels her rights infringed upon, what is her usual course? She holds +it her prerogative to set out upon a course of conduct eminently qualified +to displease the very man whom it is her interest and her salvation to +please.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> But he should try as well to please her.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> That is begging the question. Besides, her requirements are +unreasonable. She holds too tight a rein: a man is never safe after he +feels that strain at the bit. Now even you, Jenny—whom I hold up as a +model of a wife—you will not let Philip express his admiration for a +pretty woman without—</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (eagerly). I delight in having him admire any one whom I +consider worthy of admiration. I do not like to see any man run away with +by an infatuation for mere outside beauty.</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Yet "mere outside beauty" is clearly the most important gift +Nature has bestowed upon women.</p> + +<p> +<i>Mrs. M.</i> +<br /> +<i>Miss A.</i> +<span style="vertical-align: 100%;"><big>}</big> Oh! oh! oh!</span> +</p> + +<p><i>Philip.</i> What is your recipe, Frank, for putting an end to disagreements +between husbands and wives?</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Wives are to give up studying their own requirements, and try +to understand their husbands.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> And what will the result be?</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> All men, instead of remaining bachelors like myself, will +become infatuated with domestic life. No man could resist the prospect of +being constantly caressed, waited upon, admired, flattered. And once +married, a man's own home would become so fascinating a place to him that +he would never, except against his will, exchange it for his club or the +drawing-room of his neighbor's wife.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> And in return are husbands prepared to give up a nice sense of +their own requirements and study to understand their wives?</p> + +<p><i>Beverly.</i> Not at all: they are far too stupid to understand their wives: +there is something too fine and elusive about a woman's intellect and +heart to be attained by one of our sex. Besides, are things ever +equal—two souls ever just sufficiently like and unlike exactly to +understand each other? Let women perfect themselves in the art of giving +happiness, and the good action will command its own reward.</p> + +<p><i>Miss A.</i> Do you comprehend, Jenny, what the full duty of woman is? For my +part, I think it is better to go on in the old way, since it is said that +"a mill, a clock and a woman always want mending." I think women have +their own little requirements.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. M.</i> (who has left her seat and gone round to her husband, and is +cracking his almonds with an air of being anxious to conciliate him). The +fact is, Ethel, you unmarried women know nothing at all about it.</p> + +<p>L.W.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span></p> +<h3>ORGANIZATIONS FOR MUTUAL AID.</h3> + +<p>A French gentleman, M. Court, has lately published in <i>La Religion Laïque</i> +a series of articles upon this subject that have attracted much attention. +He proposes the establishment of a national fund for the support of the +aged and infirm, managed by eight members chosen annually, half by the +Chamber of Deputies, half by the Senate. The fund is to be raised by +legacies and donations; by a gift from the state of ten millions of +francs; by a percentage deducted by the state, the departments and the +communes from the pay of those who contract to furnish materials for +building, to do work, etc.; by a tax upon all who employ servants or other +laborers (one franc a month for each employé); and by a deduction from +collateral inheritances (<i>successions collatérals</i>). In time, about every +member of the community would be subjected directly or indirectly to +taxation for the support of the institution, and would have a right to its +benefits.</p> + +<p>To the ordinary mind the plan appears wholly impracticable from its +magnitude, if for no other cause; but it is evidently presented in good +faith, and is further proof of the general growth of the sentiment that +capital owes a debt to the labor of the world which cannot be satisfied +with the mere payment of wages. Most of the "sick funds" or other +provisions for the care of disabled workmen in great industrial +establishments owe their origin to the initiative of the proprietor. M. +Godin, the founder of the <i>Familistère</i>, a palatial home for the families +of some five hundred men employed in his iron-works at Guise, was one of +the first to institute a fund for mutual assistance and medical service, +supported by means of a tax of twenty cents a month on the salary of each +workman. Foreseeing the troubles that would arise should he attempt to +manage this fund in the interest of his men, he wisely refused to have any +share in this work, and induced them to elect a board of managers from +their own number having entire responsibility in the matter. The board is +composed of eighteen members, each of whom receives from M. Godin an +indemnity of five francs a month for time lost in visiting the sick, +committee-work, etc.</p> + +<p>"The assessment," writes M. Godin, "for the support of the fund to which +the workmen consented amounted to about one per cent. of their earnings. +The chief of the establishment at the same time contributed all the money +resulting from fines for spoiling work and for infractions of the rules of +the manufactory. Thanks to this combination, the three principal causes of +discord between patron and workman on the subject of relief-funds are +removed. First, mistrust and suspicion are avoided. The managers of the +treasury are of their own number, and therefore the workmen feel perfectly +free to hold them to strict account for every sou received or disbursed. +Second, as the fines for breaking the rules are devoted to the fund, the +workmen themselves are the sole gainers. This teaches them to respect the +rules, and they are little disposed to side with the refractory when they +oppose a fine. Third, fines for spoiling work cause no ill-will; indeed, +they are submitted to with a good grace. The fine benefits the fund; and, +moreover, as in the case of fines for breaking rules, the workman has +always a jury of his peers to appeal to: the board of managers is always +at hand to approve or disapprove of the fine."</p> + +<p>The fund thus administered has proved a great blessing to those who have +claims upon it, and the members of the board have worked together over +twelve years in the most exemplary harmony; or, in M. Godin's words, it +has "parfaitement fonctionné sans conflits, sans contestations d'aucune +sorte, et de manière à donner d'excellentes résultats." The average yearly +receipts have been eighteen thousand nine hundred francs; average +disbursements, eighteen thousand seven hundred and ninety-four francs. +Possibly these facts and figures may be of service to some of our chiefs +of industry who are studying to improve the condition of their employés.</p> + +<p>M.H.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span></p> +<h3>NEW YORK AS AN ART-PATRON.</h3> + +<p>That cities, like individuals, have idiosyncrasies that may be defined and +estimated, and that may be depended upon to lead to the adoption of a +certain line of action by the community in view of a certain set of +circumstances, is a fact which is continually receiving fresh +illustrations. The attitude of New York toward Mr. Theodore Thomas is a +case in point. There is among the works of the Scottish poet Alexander +Wilson, better known as the "American Ornithologist," a ballad entitled +"Watty and Meg; or, The Wife Reformed." Its moral is for all to read. +Watty's measure of domestic felicity was but scant, and when the burden +laid upon him became greater than he could bear he determined to leave the +cause of his misery:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Owre the seas I march this morning,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Listed, tested, sworn an' a',<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forced by your confounded girning.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell, Meg! for I'm awa'.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In view of losing her husband and victim, Meg repented and swore to mend +her ways, conceding even Watty's stipulation to keep the family purse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lastly, I'm to keep the siller:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This upon your saul you swear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mr. Thomas gave New York no such opportunity, and she is now lamenting him +as Tom Hood's "female Ranter" mourns "The Lost Heir," "for he's my darlin' +of darlin's." She wonders why he did not continue</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sitting as good as gold in the gutter, a-playing at making dirt-pies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wonder he left the court, where he was better off than all the other young boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With two bricks, an old shoe, nine oyster-shells and a dead kitten by way of toys.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And, in truth, Mr. Thomas got little more from the city he has for +twenty-five years clung to and taught. If he came back, is it not likely +he might meet with the Lost Heir's reception? In the Scotch ballad also we +are left in uncertainty as to the genuineness of Meg's tears and promised +reform; and in any case no one can blame Mr. Thomas for announcing his +intention only after it was beyond alteration.</p> + +<p>It is not that New York cares for the money which would have kept him. +When did it refuse money when its sympathies were aroused? Look at its +magnificent charities, its help to Chicago, to famine-stricken China, and +the thousands that were daily poured into the hands of the sufferers from +yellow fever in the South. Religion is supported with the same munificent +liberality. But when literature, music or art are to be sustained, the +community becomes either flighty or apathetic. The best of New York's +monuments are the gifts either of societies formed upon the basis of a +common sentiment with which society at large has no active sympathy, or of +men of other nationalities. It has been broadly hinted that New York would +never have acquired the Cesnola collection of Cypriote pottery, gems and +statuary had it not found a competitor in England. The luxury of beating +the Britishers was too tempting to be declined, and led to a result which +might not have been reached had the question been nothing more than one of +art and art-education. Competition supplied the stimulus which should have +been furnished by a sense of the desirability of securing a collection so +rich and in every way, historically and artistically, so valuable. The New +York public, again, was never really interested in the Castellani +collection. It grudged the additional entrance-fee of twenty-five cents +levied by the trustees of the Metropolitan Museum. No leader arose to open +its eyes to the true value of a complete collection of majolica and +mediæval jewelry. The only known authority upon the subject of ceramics +proved to be a blind leader of the blind, and the only result of Mr. +Clarence Cook's interference was to leave the aforesaid gentleman in the +melancholy plight of a plucked crow. The collection was reshipped to +Europe while the feathers were still flying, and the public felt itself to +be a gainer to the extent of witnessing a piece of good sport. No sense of +loss spoiled its enjoyment of the fun.</p> + +<p>When, some months ago, it was announced that a college of music was to be +founded, New York scarcely paused to examine the plans of the proposed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> +building. The scheme fell prone to the ground upon the day of its birth. +The few who were in earnest communicated none of their fire to the +community at large. Society looked upon Mr. Thomas in a precisely similar +manner. It complacently regarded him as the greatest conductor of the age, +and its complacency was fed by its having an imaginary proprietary +interest in him. But while the few who really understood him and the +themes he handled bowed to him as their Apollo, the many had no real +homage to pay either of heart or head. He educated the people, and the +people believed in him and in the dictum of judges more competent than +they. But he was always above them, the men of influence and wealth who in +all such matters represent and <i>are</i> society. He led them to lofty +heights, but no sooner had they reached one than he was seen flying to +another loftier still and still more perilous. He worked, moreover, as +only a genius and an enthusiast could work. He began by winning his +auditors. He went down to their level, humored them, pleased them, and +then filled their ears with music that was ravishing even when only +partially intelligible. Insensibly they grew to like it, and although +defections were large and many refused to rise above the "popular" +standard, there is no doubt that he succeeded in elevating the taste of +the general public. Year by year he was bringing his audiences nearer to +himself, and year by year he was winning new converts from the love of the +meretricious and flashy to that of the noble and pure.</p> + +<p>He alone derived no benefit from his labors. He had no adequate support, +no relief from the most sordid and worrying cares of life. He found +himself almost forced into competition that was degrading. Had he entered +into it he would have thrown down with his own hand the structure he had +spent his life in rearing. He was alternately warmed by the admiration and +love of a few and chilled by general apathy, and has chosen wisely in +going where he will at least be lifted above the necessity of struggling +for subsistence. New York has lost him, but had it known that Cincinnati +was trying to coax him away it would have let him go never.</p> + +<p>It is singular that the matter of making New York attractive to the lovers +of art and music is never looked at by its wealthy citizens from the +commercial point of view. Art and music exert influences that can be +computed upon strict business principles, and the policy of neglecting +them is extremely short-sighted. Every addition to the attractions of a +city, and especially of a city essentially commercial, is an addition to +its prosperity. The prestige that would have accrued to New York, and the +wealth that would certainly have been attracted to it, had it adopted +Cincinnati's course of action, would unquestionably have far more than +compensated for the outlay attending the endowment of a college of music +and the engagement of Theodore Thomas. With this assumption the +idiosyncrasy of New York may be viewed in full. Like the prudent merchant +of moderate attainments and medium culture, it is not far-seeing when a +question arises not strictly in its line of business. Sympathetic, +outwardly decorous, keenly sensitive, full of pity for the suffering, New +York enters the field of art in a purely mercantile spirit. It has no +love, but only that peculiar kind of affection that is the outgrowth of +triumph over a rival. An individual parallel might be found in the case of +the old gentleman who haunted the auction-rooms and filled his house with +loads of vases, bronzes and the like. "It's not the things I care for," he +said, "but there isn't a millionaire in the city I haven't outbid in +getting them together."</p> + +<p>J.J.</p> + + +<h3>ONE OF THE SIDE ISSUES OF THE PARIS EXPOSITION.</h3> + +<p>Slowly, but not the less surely, does the succession of international +industrial expositions strengthen the sentiment of peace among the +nations. Those who were interested in observing how gradually our +civilization is becoming industrial can remember during the Centennial +Exposition several notable instances<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span> of this. The Exposition of Paris and +the recent arbitration at Berlin have both stimulated the thought of +Europe in this direction, and the following instances of the direction it +is taking will be of interest, especially as they are such as are not +likely to be noticed by the regular correspondents.</p> + +<p>A pamphlet has been published at Foix, one of the provincial towns of +France, entitled, <i>Les Rondes de la Paix</i>. It was written by M. Adolphe de +Lajour, and its scope will appear from the following extract: "Why not +declare Constantinople and the Straits neutral? Why not declare +Constantinople the city for congresses of <i>unity</i>—the metropolis, the +Washington, of the United States of the two worlds? Why from the various +populations, differing in race, in manners, in religion and in language, +who inhabit the Balkan peninsula, should not a confederation of the United +States of the Danube be created on the model of Switzerland?"</p> + +<p>In the Exposition itself a printed sheet has been distributed, entitled +"La Marseillaise de la Paix." It was printed by the associated compositors +in the office of M.A. Chaix, who has recently organized his establishment +so that a share in the profits is accorded to the workers. The first two +verses of this new version will suffice to show its character:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Allons, enfant de la patrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">La jour de gloire est arrivé.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">De la Paix, de la Paix chérie,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">L'etendard brillant est levé! (<i>bis</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Entendez-vous vers nos frontières,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Tous les peuples ouvrant leurs bras,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Crier à nos braves soldats:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Soyons unis, nous sommes frères!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plus d'armes, citoyens, rompez vos bataillons!<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Chantez,<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Chantons!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et que la Paix féconde nos sillons!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Pourquoi ces fusils, ces cartouches?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Pourquoi ces obus, ces canons?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pourquoi ces cris, ces chants farouches,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ces fiers défis aux nations? (<i>bis</i>)<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Pour nous Français, oh! quelle gloire,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">De montrer au monde dompté,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Que les droits de l'humanité<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sont plus sacrés que la victoire!<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Plus d'armes, etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>E.H.</p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY" id="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY"></a>LITERATURE OF THE DAY.</h2></div> + + +<p>Superstition and Force: Essays on the Wager of Law, the Wager of Battle, +the Ordeal, Torture. By Henry C. Lea. Third Edition, revised. +Philadelphia: Henry C. Lea.</p> + +<p>Many will be tempted to say that this, like the <i>Decline and Fall</i>, is one +of the uncriticisable books. Its facts are innumerable, its deductions +simple and inevitable, and its <i>chevaux-de-frise</i> of references bristling +and dense enough to make the keenest, stoutest and best-equipped assailant +think twice before advancing. Nor is there anything controversial in it to +provoke an assault. The author is no polemic. Though he obviously feels +and thinks strongly, he succeeds in attaining impartiality. He even +represses comment until it serves for little more than a cement for his +data. What of argument there is shapes itself mostly from his collation. +The minute and recondite records he throws together, in as much sequence +as the chaotic state of European institutions and society in the Middle +Ages will allow, are left to their own eloquence. And eloquent they are. +Little beyond the citation of them is needed to show the brutality of +chivalry, the selfish cruelty of sacerdotalism, and the wretchedness of +the masses enslaved by political and religious superstition, until Roman +law had a second time, after an interval of a thousand years, effected a +conquest of the Northern barbarians. The work does not confine itself, +historically, to that period nor to Europe, but what excursions are made +outside of that time and country are chiefly in the way of introduction +and conclusion. The moral defects which produce and perpetuate the follies +and abuses discussed by Mr. Lea are confined to no time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span> or race. They are +inherent and abiding, and he takes care not to let us forget that the +struggle to subdue them cannot anywhere or at any time be safely relaxed. +We inherit, with their other possessions, the weaknesses and proclivities +of our ancestors, and we even find some of their specific acts of error +and injustice still imbedded in the institutions under which we live, and +more or less vividly reproduced in the routine of individual, corporate or +public existence. The compurgator slides into the witness and the juryman, +bringing with him the oath on the Bible and trial for perjury, and the +feed champion of the Church into the patron. The ordeal of battle is +fought out bloodlessly by lawyers, with often quite as little regard to +the merits of the case as could have been shown in the olden lists. Only +the baser physical ordeals, of fire, hot and cold water, etc., with +torture as a part of the regular machinery of justice, have died out, +evidencing the great rise in intelligence and independence of the bulk of +the people—the "lower orders" to whom these gross expedients were chiefly +applied. Other forms of legal outrage, however, less apparent and palpable +to the senses, have run deep into the nineteenth century, and are not yet +wholly abolished. Mr. Lea, by the way, does not, we observe, refer to the +trial of Bambridge in 1729 for torturing prisoners for debt "in violation +of the laws of England." Perhaps he threw it aside in the redundance of +other illustrative material. We must add, as proof of his impartiality, +the comparatively slight mention made of torture under the Inquisition—a +thing of which we have been told so much as to have fallen into a sort of +popular belief that the Holy Office had a monopoly of this particular +atrocity.</p> + +<p>Man will always, in some guise or other, manifest his faith in and +dependence on miracles, and will never cease to implore the special +interposition of the Deity. It is so much simpler thus to make a daily +convenience of his Creator than to consult those dry abstractions, the +laws of Nature. Of this deep and tiresome <i>x</i> and <i>y</i> he has not time to +solve the equation, granting it to be, in its ultimate terms, soluble. Who +shall say in each instance whether the impulse to decline that method and +adopt the shorter be superstition or religion?</p> + +<p>Whether looked on as a picture or a mirror, a work such as this has +lasting value. It enables us at any time to gauge the progress of +enlightenment, to ascertain what real gain has been made, what is +delusive, and what remains to be done that it is possible to do; for we +must not expect the record of human fatuity to be closed in our day.</p> + + +<p>The Witchery of Archery. By Maurice Thompson. New York: Charles Scribner's +Sons.</p> + +<p>The author of this little volume certainly succeeds in proving the truth +of his title to the extent of convincing his readers that archery has its +witchery; and we gather from his words that he has made practical converts +and imparted to many some portion of his own devotion to the immemorial +implement he may be said to have, in this country and among its white +inhabitants, reinvented. Seated in our easy-chair, we follow him gayly and +untiringly into the depths of the woods, drink in the rich, cool, damp +air, and revel in the primeval silence that is only broken by the twang of +the bowstring or the call of its destined victim. We enjoy his marvellous +shots with some little infusion of envy, and his exemplary patience under +ill-success and repeated failure with perhaps more. We end, like his +"Cracker" friend, with respecting sincerely the "bow-and-arrers" we were +at first disposed to view with amused contempt; and we close the book with +an unqualified recognition of the value of the bow as a means of athletic +training—a healthful recreation for those who have difficulty in finding +such means.</p> + +<p>This ancient weapon of war and the chase, which has won so many battles +and conquered so many kingdoms, has since the introduction of gunpowder +been too readily allowed to sink into a plaything for boys. They retain +something of a passion for it. Many can remember when they were wont to +select the choicest splits of heart-hickory from the wood-pile, lay them +aside to season, and then shape them, or have them shaped by stronger and +defter hands, into the four-foot bow, equivalent to the six-foot bow of +the man. The arrows were harder to get in any satisfactory quantity, for +they were rapidly shot away, and they were hard to properly point and +scientifically feather. The processes were altogether too abstruse to come +out well from homemade work in boyish hands. So the results were not +usually brilliant, being confined to the destruction of a few sparrows,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span> +the breaking of some windows and the serious maltreatment of the family +cat. Such achievements did not commend themselves to parents, and archery +rested under a cloud from which it failed to emerge as the youthful +practitioners grew up. It retained its charm for them in books, however. +The visit of Peter Parley to Wampum was the most delightful part of that +historian's works; and Robin Hood and William Tell earned a yearning and +trustful admiration which refuses to yield to the criticisms employed in +reducing those characters to myths—triumphs of the "long-bow" in another +sense. And here we are reminded that Mr. Thompson's affection is lavished +wholly on the long-bow. The cross-bow, a weapon which largely superseded +it in the Middle Ages for war and sport, the English gentleman's +"birding-piece" before he took to the gun, he will not hear of. The +sportsman of tender years often prefers it. It is less troublesome in the +matter of ammunition. Any missile will answer for it, from a sixpenny nail +to a six-inch pewter-headed bolt—projectiles which travel two hundred +yards with force and precision. The draft on the muscular strength is of +course the same with either form of the bow, but the long-bow admits of +its being more easily graduated, and is therefore preferable for the +exercise-ground.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson, we observe, seems to disregard the spiral arrangement of the +feather, and the rotary movement around the axis of flight imparted by it +to the arrow. He uses three strips of feather, which is better than two +flat ones for the purpose of keeping the missile steady, but still does +not prevent its swerving toward the end of its course, as more than one +vexatious incident of his hunting record shows. This usage may help to +account for the superiority of the old bowmen to the amateurs of to-day in +accuracy at long ranges. The best targets reported on the part of the +latter, such as "eleven shots in a nine-inch bull's-eye, out of thirteen, +at forty yards," and "ten successive shots in a sheet of paper eight +inches square at thirty yards," are poor by the side of the exploits of +the yeomen and foresters on the archery-grounds of yore. To split a +willow-wand at two hundred paces must have required something in the way +of practice and system more precise and absolute than the guesswork Mr. +Thompson concedes to be unavoidable to-day with the utmost care and +experience. It could not have been done with a missile liable, in the +calmest atmosphere, the moment it passed the point-blank, to unaccountable +aberrations, vertically and horizontally.</p> + + +<p>The China-Hunters' Club. By the Youngest Member. New York: Harper & +Brothers.</p> + +<p>The literature of which this is a new specimen would have astonished the +reading public of ten years ago, as it probably will that of ten years +hence. Library shelves which knew it not at the former period are nearly +filled now, and fast becoming crowded. Shall we predict that at the future +date named their contents will be nearly invisible for dust? No. Much of +what is going through the press on the subject of pottery will have its +use as promoting the advancement and clearing up the history of fictile +art, and will therefore be preserved, while a larger portion will interest +only the few who delve into the records of human caprice and whim. Even +these will not particularly care to know or remember what factory-brand +was borne by the teapots and saucers of our grandmothers, and what +Staffordshire modeller or woodcutter was responsible for the usually +atrocious decorations of those utensils. They will smile but once over the +pleasant lunacy of a hunt, printed and illustrated, among New England +cottages for forgotten and more or less damaged crockery. The Youngest +Member herself—by that time promoted probably to the ranks of the matrons +whose treasures she delights to ransack—will be slow to recall and +understand her enthusiasm of to-day, and marvel at her ever having +detected charms in the homely things of clay she deems worthy of the +graver. We, her contemporaries, however, living in the midst of the +contagion to which she is a conspicuous victim, can follow her flying +footsteps in the chase after potsherds with some sympathy, lag though we +may far in the rear. We enjoy the lively style in which she depicts her +"finds," and the bright web of sentiment and story with which she weaves +them into unity. The receptacles of beer, tea, cider and shaving-soap that +figure in her woodcuts are old friends we are glad to see again, and none +the less so for the somewhat startling duty they are made to perform in +the illustration of æsthetic culture. We learn secrets about them we never +dreamed of before. We are told where they came from, have explained to us +the mystic meaning of their designs, and are pointed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span> the stamps on +their bottoms or some other out-of-the-way part of their anatomy +infallibly betraying their age, nativity and parentage. Every reader will +be treated to special revelations of this sort, some more, some less, some +one and some another. For our individual share we are favored with +enlightenment as to three of our private possessions. One of these is the +Dog Fo, a little white Chinese monstrosity. We have been familiar from +childhood with two of him, seated in unspeakable but complacent +hideousness at the opposite ends of the chimney-piece. No. 2 is a gallon +pitcher, sacred to the gingerbread of two generations, and ornamented with +a ship under full sail on one side and a coat-of-arms on the other, not +now remembered, the whole article having recently disappeared in some way +or direction unknown and untraceable unless by the most indefatigable of +ceramists. The third is a smaller pitcher in mottled unglazed clay, +antique in shape and ornamentation, except that a figure in the costume of +Queen Bess's time stands cheek-by-jowl with a group resembling that on the +Portland Vase. This anachronism caused us to be puzzled by the word +Herculaneum impressed on the bottom, not unworthy as the general beauty of +the work was of such a source. The mystery stands explained by the book +before us. Herculaneum was the name of a manufactory of earthenware near +Liverpool, in this case almost as misleading as the inscription of Julius +Cæsar on a dog-collar too hastily inferred to have been worn by a canine +pet of the great dictator.</p> + +<p>The author concludes, "as a result of our hunting along the roads of New +England, that there is a great deal of money-value in old crockery which +lies idle in pantries, and that collectors who have money to spend do a +great deal of good in a small way by giving the money for the crockery. +And, strange as you may think it, it is very rare to find an owner of old +pottery in the country, whatever be the family associations, who would not +rather have the money."</p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="Books_Received" id="Books_Received"></a><i>Books Received.</i></h2></div> + +<p>Plays for Private Acting. Translated from the French and Italian. By +Members of the Bellevue Dramatic Club of Newport. (Leisure-Hour Series.) +New York: Henry Holt & Co.</p> + +<p>A Primer of German Literature. By Helen S. Conant.—A Year of American +Travel. By Jessie Benton Fremont.—Hints to Women on the Care of Property. +By Alfred Walker. (Harper's Half-Hour Series.) New York: Harper & +Brothers.</p> + +<p>A Handbook of Politics for 1878: Being a Record of Important Political +Action, National and State, from July 15, 1876, to July 1, 1878. By Hon. +Edward McPherson, LL.D., of Gettysburg, Pa. Washington: Solomons & +Chapman.</p> + +<p>Christine Brownlee's Ordeal. By Mary Patrick.—A Beautiful Woman. By Leon +Brook. (Nos. 7 and 8 of Franklin Square Library.) New York: Harper & +Brothers.</p> + +<p>The Cossacks: A Tale of the Caucasus in 1852. By Count Leo Tolstoy. +Translated from the Russian by Eugene Schuyler. New York: Charles +Scribner's Sons.</p> + +<p>D'ye Want a Shave? or, Yankee Shavings; or, A New Way to get a Wife: A +Three-Act Comedy. By William Bush. St. Louis. William Bush.</p> + +<p>Colonel Dunwoddie, Millionaire. (No. 5 Harper's Library of American +Fiction.) New York: Harper & Brothers.</p> + +<p>Play-Day Poems. Collected and edited by Rossiter Johnson. (Leisure-Hour +Series.) New York: Henry Holt & Co.</p> + +<p>Maid Ellice: A Novel. By Theodore Gift. (Leisure-Hour Series.) New York: +Henry Holt & Co.</p> + +<p>Chums: A Satirical Sketch. By Howard MacSherry. Jersey City: Charles S. +Clarke, Jr.</p> + +<p>The Student's French Grammar. By Charles Heron Wall. New York: Harper & +Brothers.</p> + +<p>The Ring of Amethyst. By Alice Wellington Rollins. New York: G.P. Putnam's +Sons.</p> + +<p>The Crew of the "Sam Weller." By John Habberton. New York: G.P. Putnam's +Sons.</p> + +<p>Saxe Holm's Stories. Second Series. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons.</p> + +<p>Samuel Johnson. By Leslie Stephen. New York: Harper & Brothers.</p> + + + + +<div class='padding'><h2><a name="Music_Received" id="Music_Received"></a><i>Music Received.</i></h2></div> + +<p>The Battle Prayer. By Himmel. Part-songs for Male Voices, No. 4. (Lotus +Club Collection.) Composed and arranged by A.H. Rosewig. Philadelphia: Wm. +H. Boner & Co.</p> + +<p>Weep no More: Song. Words by Mrs. A.B. Benham; Music by Augustus V. +Benham, the great Child Pianist. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner & Co.</p> + +<p>Who is Sylvia? Song for Soprano or Tenor. (English, German and Italian +Words.) By Franz Schubert. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner & Co.</p> + +<p>Whoa, Emma! Written and Composed by John Read. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner +& Co.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3><a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES"></a>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Lord Beaconsfield is not the first to appreciate the +strategic value of Cyprus. It was fully valued by the Venetians, as well +as by the Knights of St. John, who would fain have made <i>it</i> their +island-fortress instead of Rhodes; while Napoleon singled it out as one of +the principal points in his projected anti-Turkish campaign in 1798.</p></div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular +Literature and Science, Volume 22. October, 1878., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + +***** This file should be named 19093-h.htm or 19093-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/9/19093/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine D. and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/19093-h/images/img1.jpg b/19093-h/images/img1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..51307d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img1.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img10.jpg b/19093-h/images/img10.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..82bcee3 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img10.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img10th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img10th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7b959d --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img10th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img11.jpg b/19093-h/images/img11.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ab5590d --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img11.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img11th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img11th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..34ed637 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img11th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img15.jpg b/19093-h/images/img15.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6e5392 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img15.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img15th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img15th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ec5e11 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img15th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img18.jpg b/19093-h/images/img18.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c5a36a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img18.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img18th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img18th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..99321f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img18th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img1th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img1th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..adaf92e --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img1th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img22.jpg b/19093-h/images/img22.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..57549f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img22.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img22th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img22th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f9cdf2 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img22th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img25.jpg b/19093-h/images/img25.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e8a937b --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img25.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img25th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img25th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1450aac --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img25th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img28.jpg b/19093-h/images/img28.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fad5901 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img28.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img28th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img28th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b3283d --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img28th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img35.jpg b/19093-h/images/img35.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..da5629a --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img35.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img35th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img35th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..28f2dab --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img35th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img4.jpg b/19093-h/images/img4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ab638c --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img4.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img40.jpg b/19093-h/images/img40.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..21989ae --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img40.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img40th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img40th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a559973 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img40th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img4th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img4th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f2fbc3 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img4th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img57.jpg b/19093-h/images/img57.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f0d79be --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img57.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img57th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img57th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a941a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img57th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img7.jpg b/19093-h/images/img7.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3fce2b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img7.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img7th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img7th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..17d508a --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img7th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img8.jpg b/19093-h/images/img8.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5d1777 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img8.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img8th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img8th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ecc94e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img8th.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img9.jpg b/19093-h/images/img9.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b999b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img9.jpg diff --git a/19093-h/images/img9th.jpg b/19093-h/images/img9th.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..95418f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093-h/images/img9th.jpg diff --git a/19093.txt b/19093.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a89ba7 --- /dev/null +++ b/19093.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8962 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature +and Science, Volume 22. October, 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. October, 1878. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 21, 2006 [EBook #19093] + +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. + +OCTOBER, 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. + + +WARWICK AND COVENTRY. + +[Illustration: OBLIQUE GABLES IN WARWICK.] + +The history of England is written in living characters in the provincial +towns of the kingdom; and it is this which gives such interest to places +which have been surpassed commercially by great manufacturing centres and +overshadowed socially by the attractions of London. The local nobility +once held state little less than royal in houses whose beautiful +architecture now masks a hotel, a livery-stable, a girls' school, a +lawyer's office or a workingmen's club, and there are places where almost +every cottage, every wooden balcony or overhanging oriel, suggests +something romantic and antique. Even if no positive association is +connected with one of these humbler specimens of English domestic +architecture, you can fall back on the traditional home of love and +poetry, the recollections of idyls and pastorals daily acted out by +unconscious illustrators of the poets from one generation to another. +Modern life engrafted on these old towns and villages seems prosaic and +unattractive, though practically it is that which first strikes the eye. +New fronts mask old buildings, as new manners do old virtues; and if we +come to the frame and adjuncts of daily life, we must confess that +nineteenth-century trivialities are intrinsically no worse than mediaeval +trivialities. + +There are in Warwick more modern houses and smart shops than ancient +gabled and half-timbered houses, but the relics of the past are still +striking: witness the ancient porch of the good old "Malt-Shovel," with +its bow-window, in which the Dudley retainers often caroused, and the +oblique gables in one of the side streets, which Rimmer, a minute observer +of English domestic architecture, thus describes: "An acute-angled street +may be made to contain rectangular rooms on an upper story.... Draw an +acute angle--say something a little less than a right angle--and cut it +into compartments; or, if preferred, an obtuse angle, and cut this into +compartments also. Now, the roadway may be so prescribed as to prevent +right angles from being made on the basement, but the complementary angles +are ingeniously made out by allowing the joists to be of extra length, and +cutting the ends off when they come to the square. The effect is extremely +picturesque, and I cannot remember seeing this peculiar piece of +construction elsewhere." + +At the western end of High street stands Leicester's Hospital, which was +originally a hall belonging to two guilds, but, coming into possession of +the Dudleys, was converted into a hospital by Elizabeth's favorite in +1571. The "master" was to belong to the Established Church, and the +"brethren" were to be retainers of the earl of Leicester and his heirs, +preference being given to those who had served and been disabled in the +wars. The act of incorporation gives a list of neighboring towns and +villages, and specifies that queen's soldiers from these, in rotation, are +to have the next presentations. There is a common kitchen, with a cook and +porter, and each brother receives some eighty pounds per annum, besides +the privileges of the house. Early in this century the number of inmates +was increased to twenty-two, unlike many such institutions, whose funded +property accumulated without the original number of patients or the amount +of their pensions being correspondingly increased. The hospital-men still +wear the old uniform--a gown of blue cloth, with the silver badge of the +Dudleys, the bear and ragged staff. The chapel has been restored in nearly +the old form, and stretches over the pathway, with a promenade at the top +of the flight of steps round it, and the black-and-white (or +half-timbered) building that forms the hospital encloses a spacious open +quadrangle in the style common to hostelries. The carvings are very fine +and varied, and add greatly to the beauty of the galleries and covered +stair. The monastic charities founded by men of the old religion are now +in the hands of the corporation for distribution among the poor of the +town, and besides the old grammar-school founded by Henry VIII., with a +yearly exhibition to each of the universities, and open to all boys, rich +and poor, of the town, there are five other public schools and forty +almshouses. The old generous, helpful spirit survives, in spite of new +economic theories, in these English country towns, and landlords and +merchants have not yet given up the old-fashioned belief that where they +make their money they are bound to spend it to the best advantage of their +poorer and less fortunate neighbors. Many local magnates, however, have +departed from this rule. Country gentlemen no longer have houses in the +county-town, but flock to London for the purposes of social and +fashionable life. They have decidedly lost in dignity by this rush to the +capital, and it is doubtful how far they have gained in pleasure, though +the few whose means still compel them to stay at home, or only go to town +once or twice in a lifetime for a court presentation, would gladly take +the risk for the sake of the experiment. The feeling which made the Rohans +adopt as a motto, "Roy ne puis--Prince ne veux--Rohan je suis," is one +which is theoretically strong among the country squires of England, the +possessors of the bluest blood and longest deeds of hereditary lands; but +the snobbishness of the nineteenth century is practically apt to taint the +younger branches when they read of garden-parties given by the royal +princes or balls where duchesses and cabinet ministers are as plentiful as +blackberries. Their great-grandmothers, it is true, were sometimes +troubled with the same longings, for among the many proclamations against +the residence in London of country gentlemen in unofficial positions is +one of James I., noticing "those swarms of gentry, who, through the +instigation of their wives, do neglect their country hospitality and +cumber the city, a general nuisance to the kingdom;" and the royal +Solomon elsewhere observes that "gentlemen resident on their estates are +like ships in port--their value and magnitude are felt and acknowledged; +but when at a distance, as their size seemeth insignificant, so their +worth and importance are not duly estimated." There is a weak point in +this simile, however; so, to cover it with a better and more unpretentious +argument, I will quote a few lines from an old poem of Sir Richard +Fanshawe on the subject of one of these proclamations: + + Nor let the gentry grudge to go + Into those places whence they grew, + But think them blest they may do so. + Who would pursue + The smoky glories of the town + That may go till his native earth, + And by the shining fire sit down + On his own hearth? + + * * * * * + + Believe me, ladies, you will find + In that sweet life more solid joys, + More true contentment to the mind, + Than all town toys. + +[Illustration: PORCH WITH BOW-WINDOW UNDER, OUTSIDE WARWICK GATES.] + +The solemn county balls, to which access was as difficult as it is now to +a court festivity, have dwindled to public affairs with paid +subscriptions, yet even in their changed conditions they are somewhat of +an event in the winter life of a neighborhood. Everybody has the entree +who can command the price of a ticket, though, as a rule, different +classes form coteries and dance among themselves. The country-houses for +ten or twelve miles around contribute their Christmas and New Year guests, +often a large party in two or three carriages. Political popularity is not +lost sight of, and civilities to the wives and daughters of the tradesmen +and voters often secure more support in the next election than strict +principle warrants; but though the men thus mingle with the majority of +the dancers, it is seldom the ladies leave the upper end of the hall, +where the local aristocracy holds a sort of court. In places where there +is a garrison the military are a great reinforcement to the body of +dancers and flirts. The society proper of a county-town is mostly cut up +into a small clique of clerical and professional men, with a few spinsters +of gentle eccentricity and limited means, the sisters and aunts of country +gentlemen, and a larger body of well-to-do tradesmen and their families, +including the ministers of the dissenting chapels and their families. One +of the latter may be possibly a preacher of local renown, and one of the +Anglican clergy will almost invariably be an antiquary of real merit. The +mayor and corporation belong, as a rule, to the larger set, but the +lawyers and doctors hold a neutral position and are welcomed everywhere, +partly for the sake of gossip, partly for their own individual merits. +Warwick has the additional advantage over many kindred places of the near +neighborhood of Leamington, a fashionable watering-place two miles and a +half distant, one of the mushrooms of this century, but in a practical +point of view one of the brightest and most attractive places in England. +At present it far surpasses Warwick in business and bustle, and possesses +all the adjuncts of a health-resort, frequented all the year round, and +inhabited by hundreds of resident invalids for the sake of the excellent +medical staff collected there. One of its famous physicians was often sent +for, instead of a London doctor, to the great houses within a radius of +forty or fifty miles. The assembly-rooms, hotels, baths, gardens, bridges +and shops of Leamington vie with those of the continental spas, and the +display of dress and the etiquette of society are in wonderful contrast to +the state of the quiet village fifty years ago. But it is pleasant to know +that the new town has already an endowed hospital, founded by Dr. +Warneford and called by his name, where the poor have gratuitous baths and +the best medical advice. Not content with being a centre in its own way, +Leamington has improved its prospects by setting up as a rival to Melton +Mowbray in Leicestershire, known as the "hunting metropolis." Three packs +of hounds are hunted regularly during the season within easy distance of +the town, which has also annual steeplechases and a hunting club; and this +sporting element serves to redeem Leamington from the character of masked +melancholy which often strikes a tourist in visiting a regular +health-resort. + +In natural beauty Warwickshire is surpassed by other counties, but few can +boast of architectural features equally striking--such magnificent +historical memorials as Kenilworth and Warwick castles, and the humbler +beauties to be found in the houses of Stratford-on-Avon, Polesworth and +Meriden. The last is remarkable--as are, indeed, all the villages of +Warwickshire--for its picturesque beauty, and above all for the position +of its churchyard, whence lovely views are obtained of the country around. +Of Polesworth, Dugdale remarks, that, "for Antiquitie and venerable esteem +it needs not to give Precedence to any in the Countie." "There is a +charming impression of age and quiet dignity in its remains of old walls, +its remains of old trees, its church and its open common," says Dean +Howson. Close to the village, on a hill commanding a view of it, stands +Pooley Hall, whose owner in old days obtained a license from Pope Urban +VI. to build a chapel on his own land, "by Reason of the Floods at some +time, especially in Winter, which hindered his Accesse to the +Mother-Church." In the garden of this hall, a modest country-house, a type +of the ordinary run of English homes, stands a chapel--not the original +one, but built on its site--and from it one has a view of the level +ground, the village and the river, evidently still liable to floods. The +part of the county that joins Gloucestershire is rich in apple-orchards, +which I remember one year in the blossoming-time, while the early grass, +already green and wavy, fringed the foot of the trees, and by the road as +we passed we looked through hedges and over low walls into gardens full of +crocuses, snowdrops, narcissuses, early pansies and daffodils, for spring +gardens have become rather a mania in England within ten or twelve years. +Here and there older fragments of wall lined the road, and over one of +these, from a height of eight feet or so, dropped a curtain of glossy, +pointed leaves, making a background for the star-shaped yellow blossoms, +nearly as large as passion-flowers, of the St. John's-wort, with their +forest of stamens standing out like golden threads from the heart of the +blossom. At the rectory of the village in question was a very clever man, +an unusual specimen of a clergyman, a thorough man of the world and a born +actor. His father and brother had been famous on the stage, and he himself +struck one as having certainly missed his calling, though in his +appearance and manner he was as free as possible from that discontented +uneasiness with which an underbred person alone carries a burden. His +duties were punctually fulfilled and his parish-work always in order, yet +he went out a good deal and stayed at large houses, where he was much in +request for his marvellous powers of telling stories. This he did +systematically, having a notebook to help his memory as to what anecdotes +he had told and to whom, so that he never repeated himself to the same +audience. Besides stories which he told dramatically, and with a +professional air that made it evident that to seem inattentive would be an +offence, he had theories which he would bring out in a startling way, +supporting them by quotations apparently very learned, and practically, +for the sort of audience he had, irrefutable: one was on the subject of +the ark, which he averred to be still buried in the eternal snows of Mount +Ararat, and discoverable by any one with will and money to bring it to +light. As to the question of which of the disputed peaks was the Ararat of +the Bible he said nothing. This brilliant man had a passion for roses and +gardening in general, and his rectory garden was a wonder even among +clerical gardens, which, as a rule, are the most delightful and homelike +of all English gardens. + +[Illustration: LORD LEICESTER'S HOSPITAL, WARWICK.] + +[Illustration: COVENTRY GATEWAY.] + +One of Warwickshire's oldest towns and best-preserved specimens of +mediaeval architecture is Coventry, famous for its legend of Lady Godiva, +still commemorated by an annual procession during the great Show Fair, +held the first Friday after Trinity Sunday and continued for eight days. +From Warwick to Coventry is a drive of ten miles, past many villages whose +windows and chimneys form as many temptations to stop and linger, but +Coventry itself is so rich in these peculiarities that a walk through its +streets is a reward for one's hurry on the road. One would suppose, +according to the saying of a ready-witted lady, that the town must be by +this time full of a large and interesting society, since so many people +have been at various times "sent to Coventry." The origin of the saying, +as an equivalent for being tabooed (itself a term of savage origin and +later date), is reported to be the deserved unpopularity of the military +there about a century ago, when no respectable woman dared to be seen in +the streets with a soldier. This led to the place being considered by +regiments as an undesirable post, since they were shunned by the decent +part of the town's-people, and to be "sent to Coventry" became, in +consequence, a synonym for being "cut." There are, however, other +interpretations of the saying, and, though this sounds plausible, it may +be incorrect. The heart of the town, once the strong-hold of the "Red +Rose," is still very ancient, picturesque and sombre-looking, though the +suburbs have been widened, "improved" and modernized to suit present +requirements. The Coventry of our day depends for its prosperity on its +silk and ribbon trade, necessitating all the appliances of looms, furnaces +and dye-houses, which give employment to a population reaching nearly +forty thousand. The continuance of prosperous trade in most of the ancient +English boroughs is a very interesting feature in their history; and +though no doubt the picturesqueness of towns is increased or preserved by +their falling into the Pompeii stage and dwindling into loneliness or +decay, one cannot wish such to be their fate. Few English towns that have +been of any importance centuries ago have gone back, though some have +stood still; and if they have lost their social prestige, the spirit of +the times has gradually made the loss of less consequence in proportion as +the importance of trade and manufactures has increased. The ribbon trade +is indeed a new one, hardly two centuries old, but Coventry was the centre +of the old national woollen industry long before. Twenty years ago, the +silk trade having languished, the queen revived the fashion of broad +ribbons, and Coventry wares became for a while the rage, just as Honiton +lace and Norwich silk shawls did at other times, chiefly through the same +example of court patronage of native industries. St. Michael's, Trinity +and Christ churches furnish the three noted spires, the first one of the +highest and most beautiful in England, and the third the remains of a Gray +Friars' convent, to which a new church has been attached. Of the ancient +cathedral (Lichfield and Coventry conjointly formed one see) only a few +ruins remain, and the same is the case with the old walls with their +thirty-two towers and twelve gates. The old hospitals and schools have +fared better--witness Bond's Hospital at Bablake (once an adjacent hamlet, +but now within the city limits), commonly called Bablake Hospital, founded +by the mayor of Coventry in the latter part of Henry VII.'s reign for the +use of forty-five old men, with a revenue of ten hundred and fifty pounds; +Ford's Hospital for thirty-five old women, a building so beautiful in its +details that John Carter the archaeologist declared that it "ought to be +kept in a case;" Hales' free school, where Dugdale, the famous antiquary +and the possessor of Merivale Hall, near Warwick, received the early part +of his education; and St. Mary's Hall, built by Henry VI. for the Trinity +guild on the site of an old hall now used as a public hall and for +town-council meetings. The buildings surround a courtyard, and are entered +by an arched gateway from the street; and, says Rimmer, it is hardly +possible in all the city architecture of England to find a more +interesting and fine apartment than the great hall. The private buildings +in the old part of the town are as noticeable in their way as the public +buildings; and as many owe their origin to the tradesmen of Coventry, +formerly a body well known for its wealth and importance, they form good +indications of the taste of the ancient "city fathers." In 1448 this body +equipped six hundred men, fully armed, for the royal service, and in 1459 +they were proud to receive the _Parliamentum Diabolicum_ which Henry VI. +called together within shelter of their walls, and turned to the use of a +public prosecution against the beaten party of the White Rose: hence its +name. One of the private houses, at the corner of Hertford street, bears +on its upper part an effigy of the tailor, Peeping Tom, who, tradition +says, was struck dead for impertinently gazing at Countess Godiva on her +memorable ride through the town. + +[Illustration: SPIRE OF ST. MICHAEL'S, COVENTRY.] + +The great variety in the designs of windows and chimneys, and the +disregard of regularity or conventionality in their placing, are +characteristics which distinguish old English domestic architecture, as +also the lavish use of wood-carving on the outside as well as the inside +of dwellings. No Swiss chalet can match the vagaries in wood common to the +gable balconies of old houses, whether private or public: one beautiful +instance occurs, for example, in a butcher's stall and dwelling, the only +one left of a similar row in Hereford. Here, besides the ordinary +devices, all the emblems of a slaughter-house--axes, rings, ropes, etc., +and bulls' heads and horns--are elaborately reproduced over the doors and +balconies of the building, and the windows, each a projecting one, are +curiously wreathed and entwined. This ingeniousness in carving is a thing +unknown now, when even picture-frames are cast in moulds and present a +uniform and meaningless appearance, while as to house decoration the eye +wearies of the few paltry, often-repeated knobs or triangles which have +taken the place of the old individual carvings. The corn-market of +Coventry, the former Cross Cheaping, is another of the city's living +antiquities, as busy now as hundreds of years ago, when the magnificent +gilded cross still standing in James II.'s time, and whose regilding is +said to have used up fifteen thousand four hundred and three books of +gold, threw its shadow across the square. Even villages of a few hundred +inhabitants often possessed market-places architecturally worthy of +attention, and sometimes the covered market, open on all sides and formed +of pillars and pointed arches, supported a town-hall or rooms for public +purposes above. The crosses were by no means simply religious emblems: +though their presence aimed at reminding worldlings of religion and +investing common acts of life with a religious significance, their +purposes were mainly practical. Proclamations were read from the steps and +tolls collected from the market-people: again, they served for open-air +pulpits, and often as distributing-places for some "dole" or charity +bequeathed to the poor of the town. A fountain was sometimes attached to +them, and the covered market-crosses, of which a few remain (Beverly, +Malmesbury and Salisbury), were merely covered spaces, surmounted with a +cross, for country people to rest in in the heat or the rain, and were +generally the property of some religious house in the neighborhood. They +were usually octagonal and richly groined, and if small when considered as +a shelter, were yet generally sufficient for their purpose, as most of the +market-squares were full of covered stalls, with tents, awnings or +umbrellas, as they are to this day. The crosses were sometimes only an +eight-sided shaft ornamented with niches and surmounted by a crucifix, and +very often, of whatever shape they were, they were built _in memoriam_ to +a dead relative by some rich merchant or landlord. As objects of beauty +they were unrivalled, and improved the look of a village-green as much as +that of a busy market. + +[Illustration: STREET IN COVENTRY.] + +But Coventry, as I have said before, is a growing as well as an ancient +city; and when places grow they must rival their neighbors in pleasure as +well as in business, which accounts for the yearly races, now established +nearly forty years, and each year growing more popular and successful. No +doubt the share of gentlemen's houses which falls to the lot of every +county-town in England has something to do with the brilliancy of these +local gatherings: every one in the neighborhood makes it a point to +patronize the local gayeties, to belong to the local military, to enter +horses, to give prizes, to attend balls; and if politics are never quite +forgotten, especially since the suffrage has been extended and the number +of voters to be conciliated so suddenly increased, this only adds to the +outer bustle and success of these social "field-days." Coventry has a +pretty flourishing watchmaking trade, besides its staple one of +ribbon-weaving; and indeed the whole county, villages included, is given +up to manufacture: the places round Warwick and Coventry to a great extent +share in the silk trade, while Alcester has a needle manufacture of its +own, Atherstone a hat manufacture, and Amworth, which is partly in +Staffordshire, was famous until lately for calico-printing and making +superfine narrow woollen cloths: it also has flax-mills. The kings of +Mercia used to keep state here, and the Roman road, Watling Street, passed +through it, with which contrast now the iron roads that pass every place +of the least importance, and in this neighborhood lead to the busy centre +of the hardware trade, smoky, wide-awake, turbulent, educated, hard-headed +Birmingham. This, too, is within the "King-maker's" county, and how oddly +it has inherited or picked up his power will be noted by those familiar +with the political and parliamentary history of England within the last +forty years; but, though now an ultra-Radical constituency, it is no +historical upstart, but can trace its name in Domesday Book, where it +appears as _Bermengeham_, and can find its record as an English Damascus +in the fifteenth century, before which it had been already famous for +leather-tanning. The death, a year ago, of one of the most gifted though +retiring men of the English nobility, the late Lord Lyttleton, makes it +worth mentioning that his house, Hagley, stands twelve miles from +Birmingham, and that both his house and his forefathers were well known as +the home and patrons of literary men: Thomson, Pope and other poets have +described and apostrophized Hagley. The late owner was a good antiquary +and writer, but in society he was painfully shy. + +[Illustration: BABLAKE'S HOSPITAL, COVENTRY.] + +The southern part of Warwickshire, adjoining Gloucestershire, or rather a +wedge of that shire advancing into Worcestershire, is the most rich, +agriculturally speaking, and besides its apple-orchards is famous for its +dairy and grazing systems, while the northern part, once a forest, is +still full of heaths, moors and woods. There is not much to say about its +farms, unless technically, nor the appearance of the farm-buildings, the +modern ones being generally of brick and more substantial than beautiful. +Country-seats have a likeness to each other, and a way of surrounding +themselves with the same kind of garden scenery, so that unless where the +whole face of Nature has some strongly-marked features, such as mountains +or moors, the houses of the local gentry do not impart a special +individuality to a neighborhood; but in a mild and blooming way one may +say that Warwickshire has a fair share of pretty country-houses and +attractive parsonages. Still, the beauty of the southern and midland +counties is altogether a beauty of detail and cultivation, of historical +association and architectural contrast; not that which in the north and +east depends much upon the beholder's sympathy with Nature unadorned--wild +stretches of seashore and pathless moors, mountain-defiles and wooded +tarns. Wales and Cornwall, again, have the stamp of a race whose +surroundings have taught them shrewdness and perseverance, and their +scenery is such that in many places, though the eye misses trees, it +hardly regrets them. In the midland counties, on the other hand, take the +trees away and the landscape would be scarcely beautiful at all, though +the land might be equally rich, undulating and productive. Half the +special beauty of England depends on her greenery, her hedges, her trees +and her gardens, in which the houses and cottages take the place of birds' +nests. + +LADY BLANCHE MURPHY. + + + + +LITTLE BOY BLUE. + + Childish shepherd, sleeping + Underneath the hay, + Oh would that I could whisper in your dreams, + "The sheep astray!" + + Couldst thou not in Dreamland, + Pretty herdsman, pray, + With horn and crook lead gently to the fold + Thy sheep astray? + + Alas for soft sweet slumber's + Mistland gold and gray, + While o'er the hilltops shimmering spirits lead + Our sheep astray! + +PAUL PASTNOR. + + + + +THE PARIS EXPOSITION OF 1878. + +II.--GENERAL EXHIBITS. + + +The exposition under one roof of products of every kind, natural and +cultivated, mechanical and artistic, has a certain impressiveness from the +wonderful extent and variety of the assemblage, but the effect is +confusing and oppressive. The Philadelphia plan of grouping the exhibits +in separate buildings was both more pleasant to the eye and more useful to +the student. There is no place in Paris, however, affording room for +isolated buildings of sufficient aggregate area, and the Bois de Boulogne, +though immediately outside the fortified enceinte, in much the same +position, relatively, that Fairmount Park holds to Philadelphia, was +probably held to be too remote. + +[Illustration: GRAND CUPOLA AT ONE OF THE CHIEF ENTRANCES TO THE MAIN +BUILDING.] + +The Exposition building is too low to afford grand general views except in +the end-galleries, one of which, that toward the Seine, is occupied by +England and France, and the other, that toward the Ecole Militaire, by +Holland and France. The four especially admirable situations for display +are under the domes at the four corners of the building, and these are +respectively occupied by the English colonies, the Dutch colonies, a +statue of Charlemagne and a trophy of French metallic work--notably, large +tubes for telescopes. The French, as most readers are aware, occupy one +half of the building, and foreigners the other, the two being divided, +except at the end-galleries, by a central court in which are the fine-art +pavilions. + +Transverse divisions separate the foreigners' sections from each other, +while longitudinal divisions extending throughout the length of the +building divide the various classes of exhibits subjectively. A person may +thus cross the building and view the exhibits of a country in the +different classes, or he may go lengthwise of the building and see what +the various nations have to show in a given class. No better plan could be +devised if they are all to be assembled under one roof. The same plan has +been tried before, especially in the great elliptical building at Vienna. +It is probable that the Philadelphia plan of isolated buildings may find +imitators in the future, and then this plan of national and subjective +arrangement may be carried out without the violent contrasts incident to +sandwiching the machine galleries between the alimentary and chemical +sections. + +All the exhibits are classed under nine general groups, which are--1. Fine +arts; 2. Liberal arts and education; 3. Furniture and accessories; 4. +Textile fabrics and clothing; 5. Mining industries and raw products; 6. +Machinery; 7. Alimentary products; 8. Agriculture; 9. Horticulture. The +first of these occupies the pavilions in the central court. The second and +following ones to the seventh occupy the galleries as one passes from the +central court to the exterior of the building; agricultural implements and +products are shown in spacious sheds outside the main building and within +the enclosing fence; animals are shown in a separate enclosure on the +esplanade of the Invalides. Horticulture finds a place in all the +intervals wherever there is a square yard of ground not necessary for +paths, and also on the two esplanades which divide the Palais du Champ de +Mars and the Palais Trocadero from the river which flows between. The +subjective character of the longitudinal disposition cannot be rigorously +maintained, since nations that excel in one or another line of work or +culture are utterly deficient in others. China and Japan, for instance, +fill their galleries to overflowing with papeterie, furniture and +knickknacks, while their space in the machinery hall is principally +devoted to ceramics, a few rude implements and costumed figures. + +The English pavilion in the Galerie d'Iena consists of four wooden +structures representing Oriental mosques and kiosques, painted red and +surmounted by numerous gilded domes of the bulbous shape so characteristic +of the Indian architecture. In the order of position, as approached from +the main central doorway, the first and third are Indian, the second +Ceylonese, and the fourth is devoted to the productions of Jamaica, +Guiana, Trinidad, Trinity Island, Lagos, Seychelles, Mauritius, the Strait +Settlements and Singapore. Their contents, without attempting an +enumeration, are rather of the useful than the ornamental, with the +exception of the furniture, carpets, dresses and tissues. The Lagos +collection has a number of native drums, with snake-skin heads on bodies +carved from the solid wood, and it has also a very curious lyre of eight +strings strained by as many elastic wooden rods fastened to a box which +forms the sounding-chamber. It is individually more curious than any shown +at the Centennial from the Gold Coast, but the collection from Africa as a +whole is not nearly so full nor so fine. Mauritius has agave fibre, sugar, +shells, coral and vanilla. The Seychelles have large tortoise-shells and +the famous _cocoa de mer_, the three-lobed cocoanut peculiar to the +island, and found on the coast of India thrown up by the sea. It received +its name from that circumstance long before its home was discovered, from +whence it had been carried by the south-east monsoons. Trinity Island +sends sugar, cacao and rum; Trinidad presents sugar, asphaltum, cocoawood +and leather; Guiana has native pottery and baskets, arrow-root, sugar and +coffee. + +The pavilion next to the one described has the collection sent by the +maharajah of Kashmir, consisting largely of carpets, shawls and dresses, +which look very warm in the summer weather. It shows, besides, some of the +gemmed and enamelled work and parcel-gilt ware for which that territory, +hidden away among the Himalayas, is so celebrated. + +Next, as we travel along the Galerie d'Iena, is the Ceylonese building, of +the same ruddy brown, with gilded domes, and gay with dresses, tissues and +robes of fine woven stuff made in their primitive looms, which would seem +to be incapable of turning out such textures. The addition of blocks of +graphite, some curiously carved into the shape of elephants, and the more +prosaic agricultural productions, such as cotton, cinnamon, matting and +baskets, tone down the color and exhibit the fact that the English +possession has the mercantile side. Antlers of the Ceylon deer, tusks of +elephants and boars, contrast with the richness and the sobriety of the +other contents of the overflowing pavilion. + +Another Indian kiosque, and we are at the end of the row. This is filled +by the Indian committee, which also exposes its collection in twenty-nine +glass cases arranged about the hall in the vicinity of the pavilions. + +[Illustration: THE CHINESE SECTION.] + +The prince of Wales's collection of presents, received in his character of +heir-apparent of the empress of India, fills thirty-two glass cases, +besides six of textiles and robes. Any tolerably full account of them +would require a separate article. The interest of them culminates in the +arms. For variety, extent, gorgeousness and ethnological and artistic +value such a collection of Indian arms has never before been brought +together, not even in India; and it fairly defies description. No man was +so poor but that he could present the prince with a bow and arrow or spear +or sword or battle-axe, and in fact every one who was brought before the +prince gave him a weapon of some sort. The collection thus represents the +armorer's art in every province of India, from the rude spears of the +Nicobar Islanders to the costly damascened, chased and jewelled daggers, +swords, shields and matchlocks of Kashmir, Lahore, Gujerat, Cutch, +Hyderabad, Singapore and Ceylon. The highest interest centres upon two +swords, which are by no means the richest in their finish and settings. +One is the great sword of the famous Polygar Katabomma Naik, who defeated +the English early in the present century. It has a plain iron hilt, and +the etched blade has three holes near the point. The other is a waved +blade of splendid polish, its hilt heavily damascened with gold and its +guard closely set with diamonds and rubies. It is the sword of Savaji, the +founder of the Mahratta dominion in India. It has been sacredly guarded at +Kolhapur by two men with drawn swords for a period of two hundred years, +being a family and national heirloom, and an object of superstitious +reverence as the emblem of sovereignty. The delivery of it to the prince +of Wales was regarded as a transfer of political dominion, an admission +that the latent hopes of the Bhonsla family were now merged in loyalty to +the crown of England. + +The blades of the best weapons have been made for many ages of the +magnetic iron obtained twenty miles east of Nirmul, a few miles south of +the Shisla Hills, in a hornblende or schist formation. The magnetic iron +is melted with charcoal without any flux, and obtained at once in a +perfectly tough and malleable state. It is superior to any English or +Swedish iron. It is perhaps unnecessary to remind readers that the famous +blades of Damascus were forged from Indian steel. Some of the blades are +watered, others chased in half relief with hunting-scenes--some serrated, +others flamboyant. A very striking object is a suit of armor of the horny +scales of the Indian armadillo, ornamented with encrusted gold, turquoises +and garnets. Another suit is of Kashmir chain-armor almost as fine as +lace. Others have damascened breastplates, the gold wire being inserted in +undercut lines engraved in the steel, and incorporated therewith by +hammering. Five cases are filled with the matchlocks of various tribes and +nations--one with its barrel superbly damascened in gold with a +poppy-flower pattern, another with a stock carved in ivory, with +hunting-scenes in cameo. Enamelled and jewelled mountings are seen, with +all the fanciful profusion of ornament with which the semi-barbarian will +deck his favorite weapon. The splendor of Indian arms is largely due to +the lavish use of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and other precious stones, +mainly introduced for their effect in color, few of them being of great +value as gems. Stones with flaws, and others which are mere chips or +scales, are laid on like tinsel. Two cases are filled with gaudy trappings +and caparisons--horse and camel saddles with velvet and leather work, gold +embroidery and cut-cloth work (_applique_); an elephant howdah of silver; +chowries of yak tails with handles of sandal-wood, chased gold or carved +ivory; gold-embroidered holsters and elaborate whips which will hold no +more ornamentation than has been crowded upon them. The yak's-tail +chowries, or fly-brushes, and the fans of peacocks' feathers, are emblems +of royalty throughout the East. + +The metal ware of India, shown in eight of the glass cases--some of them +the prince's and others Lord Northbrook's--affords connoisseurs great +delight, and also arrests the attention of those who have simply a delight +in beautiful forms and colors, without technical knowledge. It might not, +perhaps, occur to the casual visitor that a Jeypore plate of _champleve_ +enamel represents the work of four years. In this process the pattern is +dug out of the metal and the recess filled with enamel, while in the +cheaper _cloisonne_ the pattern is raised on the surface of the metal by +welding on strips or wire and filling in with enamel which is fused on to +the metal. A betel-leaf and perfume-service in the silver-gilt of Mysore +is accompanied by elaborately-chased goblets and rose-water sprinklers in +ruddy gold and parcel-gilt, the work of Kashmir and Lucknow. The ruddy +color is the taste of Kashmir and of Burmah, while a singular olive-brown +tint is peculiar to Scinde. Other cases have the repousse-work of Madras, +Cutch, Lucknow, Dacca and Burmah. From Hyderabad in the Deccan is a +parcel-gilt vase, an example of pierced-work, the _opus interassile_ of +the Romans. The chased parcel-gilt ware of Kashmir occupies three cases: +it is graven through the gold to the dead-white silver below, softening +the lustre of the gold to a pearly radiance. Somewhat similar in method is +the Mordarabad ware, in which tin soldered upon brass is cut through to +the lower metal, which gives a glow to the white surface. Sometimes the +engraving is filled with lac, after the manner of niello-work. Specimens +are also shown in Bidiri ware, in which a vessel made of an alloy of +copper, lead and tin, blackened by dipping in an acidulous solution, is +covered with designs in beaten silver. A writing-case of Jeypore enamel is +perhaps the most dainty device of the kind ever seen. It is shaped like an +Indian gondola, the stern of which is a peacock whose tail sweeps under +half the length of the boat, irradiating it with blue and green enamel. +The canopy of the ink-cup is colored with green and blue and ruby and +coral-red enamels laid on pure gold. + +[Illustration: THE INDIAN COURT: THE PRINCE OF WALES EXHIBIT.] + +To attempt to describe the jewelry for the person would extend to too +great a length the notice of this most remarkable and interesting exhibit, +which includes tiaras, aigrettes and pendent jewels for the forehead; +ear-rings, ear-chains and studs; nose-rings and studs; necklaces of +chains, pearls and gems; stomachers and tablets of gold studded with gems +or strung by chains of pearls and turquoises with solitaire or enamelled +pendants; armlets, bracelets, rings; bangles, anklets and toe-rings of +gold and all the jewels of the East. A Jeypore hair-comb shown in one of +the cases has a setting of emerald and ruby enamel on gold, surmounted by +a curved row of large pearls, all on a level and each tipped with a green +bead. Below is a row of small diamonds set among the green and red +enamelled gold leaves which support the pearls. Below these again is a row +of small pearls with an enamelled scroll-work set with diamonds between it +and a third row of pearls; below which is a continuous row of small +diamonds, forming the lower edge of the comb just above the gold teeth. + +England's colonies make a great show at the Exposition. The Canadian +pagoda, which occupies one of the domed apartments at the corners of the +Palais, rises from a base of forty feet square, and consists of a series +of stories of gradually-decreasing area, surrounded by balconies from +which extended views of the Salle d'Iena and the foreign machinery gallery +are obtained. The pagoda itself is occupied by Canadian exhibits, but +around it are grouped specimens of the mineral and vegetable wealth and +manufacturing enterprise of Australia and the Cape of Good Hope. +Australia, which is a continent in itself, has become of so much +importance that it is no longer content with a single or with a collective +exhibit, and the various colonies make separate displays in another part +of the building. That around the Canadian trophy is but a contribution to +a general colonial collection near the focus of the British group, where +the union jack waves above the united family. + +In the Australian exhibits it is only fair to begin with New South Wales, +which is the oldest British colony on the island, and may be said to be +the mother of the others, as Victoria, Tasmania and Queensland have been +subdivided from time to time. It had a precarious political existence and +slow progress up to 1851, and the obloquy attaching to it as the penal +settlement of Botany Bay was not encouraging to a good class of settlers. +In 1851 the whole island of 3,000,000 square miles had but 300,000 +inhabitants, but the discovery of gold and the utilization of the land, +for sheep and wheat especially, have so far changed the aspect of affairs +that the aggregate of land under cultivation equals 3,500,000 acres, with +52,000,000 sheep, 6,700,000 cattle, 850,000 horses, 500,000 hogs, 2092 +miles of railway and 21,000 miles of telegraph. + +The collection from New South Wales contains a large exhibit of the +mineral, animal and vegetable productions of the land--auriferous quartz +and gold nuggets, tin ores and ingots, copper, coal, antimony and fossils. +New South Wales prides herself especially on the surpassing quality of her +wools and on the extent of her pastoral husbandry, the number of sheep +being 25,269,755 in 1876, of cattle over 3,000,000, and of horses 366,000. +The exportation of wool in 1876 was alone equal to $28,000,000. Then, +again, she shows gums, furs, stuffed marsupials, wools, textiles, wheat +and tobacco, also many books, photographs, maps and other evidences of the +intellectual life of the people. + +Victoria has so far progressed in riches and civilization that it has +turned its back upon the past, and shows principally its wheat, skins, +paraffine, wine, gold, antimony, lead, iron, tin, coal, timber, cloth and +a large range of productions which have little peculiar about them, but +are interesting in showing what a country of 88,198 square miles, with a +population of 224 persons in 1836, can attain to in forty years. It has +now 840,300 inhabitants, and exports over $56,000,000 annually. Its total +production of gold is about L200,000,000 sterling. Though one of the +smallest colonies on the mainland, it is about equal in population to +three-fourths of the sum of all the others, and its largest town, +Melbourne, with a population of 265,000, is said to be the ninth city of +the British world. Passing by the evidences of prosperity and +enterprise--which are, however, nothing but what ordinary retail houses +would show--we pause for a while at the excellent collection of native +tools and implements, and the weapons employed in war and the chase by the +aboriginal inhabitants--wooden spears of the grass tree, and, among many +others barbed for fishing and variously notched for war, one which does +not belong to Australia, but has evidently been brought from the +Philippines, and should not have been included. The same might be said of +several Fijian clubs and a Marquesas spear barbed with sharks' teeth, +which are well enough in their way, but not Victorian. The collection of +shields, clubs and boomerangs is good and is highly prized, as they are +becoming scarce in the colony, but the types prevail over the greater part +of the island continent, and no alarm need be felt about the speedy +extirpation of the natives when we think of Western Australia with 26,209 +inhabitants in a territory of 1,024,000 square miles, most of it fine +forest, and consequently fertile when subdued to the uses of civilization. + +[Illustration: THE CANADIAN TROPHY.] + +South Australia, with its 900,000 square miles of land, extending over +twenty-seven degrees of latitude from the Indian to the Southern Ocean, +and with a width of twelve degrees of longitude, is stated to be the +largest British colony, but has a population of only 225,000. The +appearance of the South Australian Court differs from the Victorian in the +greater predominance of raw materials and the smaller proportion of +manufactures. Copper in the ore as malachite, and in metal and +manufactured forms, is one of the principal features of the court. Emeu +eggs, of a greenish-blue color and handsomely mounted in silver as +goblets, vases and boxes, are the most peculiar: they formed quite a +striking feature at the Centennial. The resemblance of the climate to that +of California is indicated in the cultivation of wheat in immense fields, +which is cut by the header and threshed on the spot, also by the enormous +size of the French pears, which grow as large as upon our Pacific coast. +The olive also is becoming a staple, as in California, and the grape is +fully acclimated and makes a very alcoholic wine. The product in 1876 was +728,000 gallons. + +Western Australia is among the latest settled, and has a territory of 1280 +by 800 miles, of which the so-called "settled" district has an area about +the size of France, with 26,209 inhabitants. It can hardly be considered +to be crowded yet. Its mineral exhibits are lead, copper and tin ore; +silks, whalebone; skins, those of the numerous species of kangaroo and of +the dingo or native dog predominating. The woods are principally +eucalypti, as might be supposed, but endogenous trees are found toward the +north, and are shown. Corals and large tortoise-shells show also that the +land approaches the tropics. The collection of native implements includes +waddies and boomerangs, war- and fishing-spears, shields of several +kinds--including one almost peculiar to the Australians, made very narrow +and used for parrying rather than intercepting a missile. The netted bag +of chewed bulrush-root is similar to that shown at the Centennial, but the +dugong fishing-net, made by the natives of the north-west coast from the +spinifex plant, I have not before observed. Western Australia was not +represented at the Centennial. + +Queensland is the most recently established Australian colony, and +comprises the whole north-east corner--between a fourth and a fifth--of +the island. As it extends twelve degrees within the tropics, its +productions partake of a different character from those of the older +colonies, and sugar, corn and cotton are staples. The Tropic of Capricorn +crosses the middle of the province. The southern portion has 7,000,000 +sheep, but the exports of the gold, copper and tin mines exceed those of +the animal and vegetable industries. The colony has the finest series of +landscapes in the Exhibition, painted upon photographs, which may be +recollected by those who visited the Centennial. The cases contain +corals, shells--especially very fine ones of the _huitre +perliere--beche-de-mer_, so great a favorite in China for stews; +dugong-hides, with the oil and soap made therefrom; silk, tobacco, manioc, +fossils, furs and wool. + +New Zealand has but a small show, but it is very peculiar. The Maoris are +a very fine race of men, both physically and intellectually, and have many +arts. The robes of New Zealand flax (_Phormium tenax_), and especially the +feather robes, evince their aptitude and taste. They are very expert +workers of wood, and their spears, canoes, feather-boxes and paddles are +elaborately carved, and frequently ornamented with grotesque faces with +eyes of shell. Their idols are peculiarly hideous, and have a remarkable +similarity in their postures and expression to those of British Columbia +in the National Museum at Washington. + +The section occupied by the Cape of Good Hope is somewhat larger than that +at the Centennial, but is perhaps hardly as interesting. The wars against +the Kaffirs, and the want of harmony between the Dutch settlers and the +dominant English race, have produced an uneasy feeling not compatible with +a general interest in so distant a matter as a European exposition. The +Cape, with its dependencies, has an area of 250,000 square miles and a +population of nearly 750,000. Prominent in the collection are the +elephants' tusks and horns of the numerous species of antelope, which are +found in greater variety in South Africa than in any other part of the +world. Horns of bles-boks, spring-boks, water-boks, rooi-boks, koodoos, +elands, hartebeests and gnus ornament the walls, in company with those of +the native buffalo and the wide-reaching horns of the Cape oxen, of which +fourteen or sixteen yoke are sometimes hitched to the ponderous Dutch +wagons. Hippopotamus-teeth and ostrich-feathers indicate clearly enough +the section we are in. Maize has been fully acclimated in Africa, and mush +and milk now form the principal food of the whole Kaffir nation. It has +spread nearly all over Africa, but some central portions yet depend +entirely for farinaceous food upon the seed of the sorghum and dourra. On +the Zambesi corn in all stages of growth may be seen at all seasons of the +year. + +The United States section, after all its troubles in getting under +weigh--the very appropriation itself not having been made until after the +English exhibit had all been selected, arranged on the plan and the +catalogue printed--is a collection to be proud of. The arrangement is +good, except for a little crowding. The space in the Palais is forty +thousand square feet, with thirty thousand additional in an outside +building. The latter has the agricultural implements, mills, scales, +wagons and engines, with the displays of oak and hickory in the forms of +wheels, spokes and tool-handles, which are exciting so much interest in +Europe at the present time. There is no good substitute for hickory to be +found in Europe, and it is the difference between American hickory and +English ash which causes the great disparity between the proportions of +American and English carriage-wheels. That we should copy the latter for +the sake of a fashion is marvellous. + +It is not to be denied that the ingenuity and versatility of Americans +have caused them to excel other nations in many lines of manufacture. The +public opinion of Europe regards their triumphs in agricultural implements +as the most remarkable; but the nation which made the machine-tools for +the government manufactories of small-arms both of England and Germany has +established its right to the first rank in that class of work also. The +system of making by rule and gauge the separate parts, which are afterward +fitted, has come to be known as the "American system," and is exemplified +in the magnificent collection of the American Watch Company of Waltham; +the Wheeler & Wilson sewing-machine, which is the only sewing-machine with +interchangeable parts at the Exposition; the Remington rifle and shot-gun, +and the Colt revolvers. + +[Illustration: INDIANS MAKING KASHMIR SHAWLS.] + +There is nothing in the building in better taste in its line than the +Tiffany gold and silver ware, and the carriages of Brewster are generally +admired. Carriages are, however, such a matter of fashion that an exhibit +of that kind cannot suit all nations, and what one considers graceful is +to another strange and bizarre. There is no question of the fine quality, +however: of course a nation with elm for hubs and ash for spokes wonders +at American temerity in making wheels so light, and the casual observer +thinks our roads must be better than the European to justify them. As one +English builder has, however, contracted lately with an American firm for +five hundred sets of wheels, they will have an opportunity soon of testing +the quality of our woods. + +The exhibition of fine locks and of house-furnishing hardware is justly +considered as among our triumphs, the Yale, Wheeler-Mallory and Russell & +Erwin manufacturing companies being notable in this line. The saws of +Disston have no equals here: the axes of Collins & Douglas, the forks and +spades and other agricultural tools of Ames, Batcheller and the Auburn +Manufacturing Company are unapproached by the English and French. The +wood-working machine of Fay & Co. and the machine-tools of Darling Browne +& Sharpe challenge competition. + +These are not a tithe of the objects in regard to which we are proud to +have comparisons instituted; and in some of the less ponderous articles, +such as Foley's gold pens and White's dental tools and dentures, we have +the same reason for national gratulation. Such being the case, we feel +reconciled to the comparative smallness of our space, which has precluded +as much repetition in most lines of manufacture as we find in the exhibits +of other nations. + +Our agricultural machinery is well though not fully represented. Reapers +and mowers, horse-rakes, grain-drills and ploughs are abundantly or +sufficiently shown--harrows and rollers not at all; and if they had been, +they would have added nothing to the English and French knowledge on the +subject. Owing to the exigences of space, weighing-scales and pumps are +included in the agricultural building, and the exhibition of Fairbanks & +Co. deserves and receives cordial approval. + +The problem of the day in agricultural machinery is the automatic binder, +and eight efforts in that line are shown at the Exposition--six from +America and two from England. The subject of machinery, however, is +deferred for the present, but in speaking of general exhibits one cannot +avoid a slight reference to that feature which is so prominent in the +United States section. + +Where there is so much that is beautiful and admirably arranged it seems +ungenerous to cite failures, but the pavilion in the eastern corner of the +Palais and the Salle de l'Ecole Militaire connecting it with the pavilion +of the Netherlands colonies are very disappointing. The French exhibit of +sheet-metal work in the eastern corner is quite remarkable, but its merit +in an industrial point of view scarcely authorizes the prominence that is +given to it in one of the four grand positions for display which the +building affords. Even the Galeries d'Iena and de l'Ecole Militaire across +the ends of the building, although their ceilings are high and gorgeous +with color, and their sides one mass of windows in blue and white panes, +do not afford such striking positions as the four corner pavilions. One +expected, very naturally, that so admirable a position would be made the +most of by a people of fine artistic sense; and this has been done in two +of the other similar situations by the Netherlands colonies' trophy and +the Canadian pagoda. The Charlemagne statue, which occupies the fourth +pavilion, has so much sheet-metal work around it that it is not worthy to +be classed with these. In the sheet-metal pavilion we see admirable +exploitation of sheet brass, copper and iron in the shape of +telescope-tubes, worms for stills, bodies and coils for boilers, +vacuum-pans, wort-refrigerators and various bent and contorted forms which +evince the excellence of the material and of the methods. This is hardly +enough, however, to justify the occupation of the position of vantage, and +the trumpery collection of ropes, lines, nets, rods and hooks which is +intended for a fishing exhibit only emphasizes the decision, acquiesced in +by the public, which pays it no attention. + +The same is true--in not quite so great a degree, however--of the Galerie +de l'Ecole Militaire, which is principally devoted to, and very +inefficiently occupied by, a number of stands at which cheap jewelry, +meerschaum pipes, glass-blown ships, ivory boxes and paper-knives, +artificial flowers and stamped cards are made and sold as souvenirs of the +Exposition. In addition to these, and several grades better, are a couple +of Lahore shawlmakers, dusky Asiatics, engaged with native loom and needle +in making the shawls for which India is celebrated. Then we have a +jacquard loom worked by manual power, and the large embroidering-machine +of Lemaire of Naude, and the diamond-workers of Amsterdam working in a +glazed room which affords an excellent opportunity of seeing them without +subjecting them to the annoyance of meddlesome visitors. + +As if for contrast, the Galerie d'Iena at the other end of the building is +replete with the most gorgeous productions of India and France. One half +of it is occupied by the Indian collection of the prince of Wales and the +exhibits of the East and West Indian colonies of Great Britain, just +described--the other half by a pavilion, the recesses of which show the +Gobelin tapestries, while the richest productions of Sevres are placed in +profusion around it and occupy pedestals and niches wherever they could be +properly placed. The combined effect of the individual richness of the +things themselves and their lavish profusion constitutes this gallery the +gem of the Exhibition. As if the thousands of gems on the gold and silver +vessels and richly-mounted weapons and shields of the prince of Wales's +collection were not rich enough, a kiosque has been erected in which the +state jewels of France are displayed on velvet cushions, conspicuous among +them being the "Pitt Diamond," the history of which is too well known to +need repetition here. + +The models, plans and raised maps of the hydraulic works of Holland are +ever wonderful. They are principally the same that were exhibited in the +Main Building at the Centennial, but there are some additional ones. All +other drainage enterprises sink into insignificance beside those of +Holland. Since 1440 they have gradually extended until they include an +area of 223,062 acres drained by mechanical means. The drainage of the +Haarlem Meer (45,230 acres), which was the last large work completed, is +abundantly illustrated here, both as to the canalization and the engines, +the latter of which are among the largest in the world. The engines are +three in number, and the cylinders of the annular kind, the outer ones +twelve feet in diameter, and each engine lifting 66 tons of water at a +stroke: in emergencies each is capable of lifting 109 tons of water at a +stroke to a height of 10 feet at a cost of 2-1/4 pounds of coal per +horse-power per hour--much cheaper than oats: 75,000,000 pounds are raised +1 foot high by a bushel of coal. The next great work is the drainage of +the southern lobe of the Zuyder Zee, the plans for which have been made +and the work commenced. It is estimated that the mean depth is 13 feet, +and that by a multitude of engines the water may be removed at the rate of +1 foot of depth per annum. Some 800,000,000 tons were pumped out of the +Haarlem Meer, but that work will be dwarfed by the new enterprise. + +The Dutch system of mattresses, gabions, revetting and sea-walls have +furnished models for all the continents, the mouths of the Danube and the +Mississippi being prominent instances. The railway bridge over the Leek, +an arm of the Rhine, at Kuilinburg in Holland, is an iron truss, and the +principal span has the same length as the middle arch of the St. Louis +bridge--515 feet. It is shown here by models and plans. + +The largest and most instructive ethnological exhibit from any country at +the Exposition is that from the Netherlands colonies in the East and West +Indies. The Oriental forms by far the larger portion of it, and has an +imposing trophy in one of the four most advantageous positions in the +building. The base of the apartment is about one hundred and forty feet +square, and the domed ceiling at a height of one hundred and fifty feet +rises from a square tower whose sides are round-topped windows of blue and +white glass in chequerwork. These give full illumination and a gay +appearance to the spacious hall, in which the trophy rises to a height of +eighty feet. The pyramidal structure has an octagonal base of forty feet +diameter with inclined faces, from which rises a second octagonal portion +of smaller size. A series of steps above this is crowned with a conical +sheaf of palm-stems, whose fronds make an umbrella of twenty feet +diameter. The peak is a pinnacle of bamboos, with a Dutch flag pendent in +the still atmosphere of the hall. From each angle and side of the octagon +radiates a table, and these are lavishly covered with specimens of the +arts and manufactures of Java, Sumatra, Borneo, Celebes and other of the +Dutch colonial possessions in the Malay seas. Here are models of the +junks, proas and fishing-craft, each structure pegged together and +destitute of nails. The large mat sails depend from yards of bamboo; the +rudders are large oars, one over each counter; the decks are roofed with +bamboo, ratan and the inevitable nipa-palm leaves. The smaller craft, made +of hollow tree-trunks, have the double outrigger, and the finer ones have +shelters of bamboo and palm-leaf. The fishing-craft have large dip-nets +suspended from bamboo poles by cords, which allow them to be drawn up when +a passing school of fish is observed by a man perched above. + +On another table are models of the fishing-weirs and traps made of poles +which must be forty feet long in the originals, and are driven closely +alongside each other so as to enclose and detain the fish, which may enter +at the funnel-shaped mouth, whose divergent sides are presented up stream. +On the bamboo piles are the floors supporting the palm-leaf shelters of +the fishing family, and upon the various parts of the structure lie the +spears, rods and nets by which the fish are withdrawn from the inner pond, +which it is so easy to enter and so hard to escape from. Various forms of +weirs are shown, and a multitude of fish-baskets, whose conical entrances +obligingly expand to the curious fish, but only present points to him when +he seeks to return. Bamboo and ratan, whole or split, afford the materials +for all these baskets and cages. + +Other tables have the land-structures, from the elaborately-carved wooden +bungalow with tiled roof of the residency of Japara in Java to the bamboo +hut with palm-leaf sides and roofs of the maritime Dyaks of Borneo. Here +we have a bazaar of Banda, and there a hut of the indigenes of Buitzenzorg +in the interior of the fertile island of Java. Among the rudest houses +shown are those of Celebes, that curious island, larger than Britain, +which seems to rival the sea-monster, with its arms sprawling upon the +map. One house on stilts is fitted up with a complete equipment of musical +instruments, the wooden and brass harmonicons with bars or inverted pans +resting upon strings and beaten with mallets. Here also is a +weighing-machine for sugar products, the floor resting upon the shorter +beam of a lever, while the long arm extends far out of doors. +Rice-granaries elevated on posts above the predatory vermin are shown in +various forms, and are set in water-holes to guard against the still more +obnoxious ants, which are not content with the grain, but eat house and +all. + +Another table has implements of agriculture--ploughs, harrows, rakes, +carts, sleds, all as innocent of metal as the oxen which draw the various +instruments; wheels for irrigation made of bamboo, both frame and buckets; +various cutting, weeding and grubbing implements, made by a sort of rude +Catalan process from the native iron ore. The plough is a little better +than that of Egypt of three thousand years ago, and the sickle is +inferior. When Sir Stamford Raffles, who was governor during the short +control of Java by the British, asked why they used the little primitive +bent knife (_ana-ana_) which severs from the stalk but a few heads of rice +at a time, they answered that if they presumed to do otherwise their next +crop would be blasted. + +One of the tables, however, furnishes a grave disappointment. It is an +innocent-looking suspension bridge, the middle third of which is +supported by a series of piles and the floor roofed in with canes and +palm-leaves. It is a model of a bridge over the Boitang Toro, and one +expects to find it of the ratan which is of general use and grows two +hundred and fifty feet long; but no: it is of telegraph wire! So much for +the intrusion of modern devices when one is revelling in one of the most +interesting ethnological exhibits ever gathered. We have, however, but to +turn round to be consoled. Here is the roller cotton-gin, which was +doubtless used in India before the conquests of Alexander. Then we have +the spinning-wheel, which differs in no important respect from that of +England in the thirteenth century, and is similar to, but ruder than, that +used by our great-grandmothers, when "spinster" meant something, and a +girl brought to the home of her choice a goodly array of linen. This was +before cotton was king, and before factories were known either for cotton, +flax or wool. Was it a better day than the present, or no? Things work +round, and the roller-gin is now the better machine, having in the most +perfected processes supplanted the saw-gin. This may be news to some, but +will be admitted by those who have examined what the present Exposition +has to show. Here also is the bow for bowing the cotton, the original +cotton-opener and cleaner. We cannot, either, omit the reeling mechanism +for the thread nor the looms of simple construction, which can by no means +cost over a couple of dollars and yet make fine check stuffs, good cotton +ginghams. Perhaps we might allow another dollar for the reed with its six +hundred dents of split ratan. + +[Illustration: TROPHY IN THE COURT OF THE DUTCH INDIES.] + +Curious and bizarre chintzes are shown in connection with the machinery, +and some doubtless made by the processes described by Pliny eighteen +hundred years ago. Other calicoes are made by at least two processes which +are comparatively modern in England, but certainly two thousand years old +in Asia. One is the direct application of a dye-charged stamp upon the +goods. Another is known by us as the _resist_ process, and consists in +printing with a material which will exclude the dye; then putting the +goods in the dye-tub; subsequently washing out the resist-paste, when the +stamped pattern shows white on a colored ground. Some of the pieces of +calico make me suspect the _discharge_ process also, in which a piece of +goods, having been dyed, is stamped in patterns with a material which has +the faculty of making the dye fugitive, when washing causes the pattern to +appear white on a colored ground. + +We have not quite done with these tables. There are two great resources of +a people besides work--love and war. "If music be the food of Love, play +on." But will playing on the instruments of Java and other islands of +those warm seas conduce to the object? The _gamelan_, or set of native +band instruments, has one stringed instrument, several flageolets, a +number of wood and metal harmonicons and inverted bronze bowls, all played +with mallets: there are also gongs of various sizes, bells and a drum. The +metal harmonicon is known in Javanese language as the _gambang_, and I +have no better name to propose. The leader's instrument is the +two-stringed fiddle (_rebab_), almost exactly the same as the Siamese +_sie-saw_, which is also admirably named. Among the _gambangs_ at the +Exposition is a wooden harmonicon with twenty bars, and seven bronze +harmonicons with bars varying greatly in size and shape, and consequently +in tone, and in number from eight to twenty-one in an instrument. The +mallets also vary in weight. The _bonang_ is an instrument with inverted +bronze bowls resting on ratans and struck with mallets. They are of +various sizes and thickness, and corresponding tone and quality, and are +arranged in sets of fourteen, two rows of seven each, on a low bench like +a settee. They vary in one from twenty to twenty-four centimetres in +diameter, and in the other from twenty-seven to thirty-two. They are +intended, doubtless, to agree with the chromatic scale of the island, but +are faulty on the fourth and seventh, as it seems to me, and yet, contrary +to Raffles, Lay and other writers, are not pentatonic, in which the fourth +and seventh are rejected altogether and no semi-tones are used. There is +no doubt that the pentatonic is the musical scale of all Malaysia, and +probably of all China; and none also that the diatonic, almost universal +in Europe, is the musical scale of portions of India. What conclusions of +ethnologic import may be drawn from this cannot here be more than +suggested, but the latter fact seems to bear upon the association of the +Hindoos with ourselves in the great Aryan family, Our _do, re, mi, fa, +sol, la, si, do_ correspond with the Hindoo _sa, ri, ga, ma, pa, dha, ni, +sa_, and the intervals are the same--two semi-tones, of which the +Malaysian is destitute. The Hindoos have also terms in their language for +the tonic, mediant and dominant, so that they know something of harmony, +of which the Malays seem quite ignorant. + +The flageolets from Java are all made on the principle of the boy's elder +whistle, but have finger-holes--generally six, but sometimes only four. +Two bamboo jewsharps--as I suppose I must call them--about a foot long, +and with a string to fasten to the ear, as it seems, are much like two +from Fiji in the Smithsonian. There are plenty of drums from Amboyna, +Timor and the islands adjacent. The most unpromising and curious of all, +however, is the _anklong_ of Sumatra, which is all of bamboo, and has +neither finger-holes, keys, strings nor parchment. Three bamboo tubes, +closed below, are suspended vertically, so that studs at their lower ends +rattle in holes in a horizontal bamboo. This causes them to emit musical +sounds of a pitch proportioned to their length, as in an organ-pipe. The +respective lengths of the three tubes are as one, two and four, so that +the note of two is an octave graver than one, and that of four an octave +graver still. Thus, when they are shaken the sounds are in accord. Twelve +similar sets of three each are suspended from a single bar, and their +lengths are so proportioned that they sound the musical scale--the three +in the first frame, we will say, sounding the tenor C, the middle C and +the C in the third space in the treble clef; the next set the +corresponding D's above, and so on. It really does not sound so badly as +one might suppose. + +Here is a table, conchological, entomological and ornithological, which +might stay us a while if we were making a catalogue. A conch-shell twenty +inches long and ten in diameter will do for a sample--not a small +gasteropod! They do not excel us so much in butterflies as I had expected, +but some of the beetles are fearful things--six inches long, and with +veritable arms on their heads each five inches long, with elbow-joint, +wrist and two claws on the end of a single finger. Next is a praying +mantis, a foot long and with double-jointed arms like the beetles, + + That lifts his paws most parson-like, and thence + By simple savages, through mere pretence, + Is reckoned quite a saint amongst the vermin. + +Other tables have weapons, shoes, table-furniture and knickknacks. + +After this environment we have small space for the trophy itself. It is +gorgeous with tiger and leopard skins, and with the weapons of the hill +and maritime tribes under the Dutch sway, and a profusion of the ruder +implements of the less accessible regions whose inhabitants only +occasionally show themselves in the settlements. We see in this most +interesting collection spoons and knives made from the leg-bones of +native buffaloes and of deer; wooden battleaxes with inserted blades of +jade; spears of bamboo and of cocoawood tip-hardened in the fire; arrows +of reed with poisoned wooden tips; swords of dark and heavy cocoawood; +shields of wood hewed with patient care from the solid log; wooden clubs; +water-jars of a single section of bamboo and holding twelve gallons; gourd +bottles, grass slippers, bark clothing, plaintain hats, cows'-tail plumes; +and a host more which may be omitted. On the various faces of the +structure and upon the steps are profusely arranged the various objects, +over which the canopy of palm gracefully towers. + +All that has been described occupies the central space beneath the dome. +Around it and occupying the corners are a thousand specimens of wood, +canes, fibres, seeds, gum, wax, resins, teas, hideous theatrical figures, +savage weapons, rich fabrics, filigrain jewelry and tea-services. Here +also are pigs of tin from regions famous for it twenty centuries ago, +blocks of native building stones, minerals, ores and agates. Here are +models of mining-works, smelting-sheds, sugar-houses, plans and maps. + +On one side, occupying a very modest space, are contributions from Guiana, +exemplifications of the habits, methods and productions of the +country--manioc-strainers and baskets, river-boats, animals, woods, +minerals, fruits and tobacco. Figures of a negro and negress of Paramaibo +propped against the counter seem utterly lost at the sights around. + +EDWARD H. KNIGHT. + + + + +"FOR PERCIVAL." + +CHAPTER XLII. + +WALKING TO ST. SYLVESTER'S. + + +[Illustration] + +Bertie Lisle was sorely driven and perplexed for a few days after his +triumphant performance on the organ. His letter was not a failure, but +further persuasion was required to make his success complete; and during +the brief interval he was persecuted by Gordon's brother. + +Mr. William Gordon, when amiable and flattering, had an air of rough and +hearty friendliness which was very well as long as you held him in check. +But when, though still amiable, he thought he might begin to take +liberties, it was not so well. He was hard, coarse-tongued and humorous. +And when Mr. William Gordon had the upper hand he showed himself in his +true colors, as a bully and a blackguard. Bertie Lisle, not yet +two-and-twenty, was no match for this man of thirty-five. He owed him +money--no great sum, but more than he could pay. Now that matters had come +to this pass, Lisle was heartily ashamed of himself, his debts and his +associates; but the more shame he felt the more anxious he was that +nothing should be known. He had sought the society of these men because he +had wearied of the restraints of his home-life. Judith checked and +controlled him unconsciously through her very guilelessness. He might have +had his liberty in a moment had he chosen, but the assertion of his right +would have involved explanations and questions, and Bertie hated scenes. +He found it easier to coax Lydia than to face Judith. + +But this state of affairs could not go on. Bertie had once fancied that he +saw a possible way out of his difficulties, and had hinted to Gordon, with +an air of mystery, that though he could not pay at once he thought he +might soon be in a position to pay all. If he hoped to silence his +creditors for a while with this vague promise, he was mistaken. Gordon +continually reminded him of it. He had not cared to inquire into the +source of the coming wealth, but if Lisle meant to rob somebody's till or +forge Mr. Clifton's name to a cheque, no doubt Gordon thought he might as +well do it and get it over. If you are going to take a plunge, what, in +the name of common sense, is the good of standing shivering on the brink? + +Unluckily, Lisle's idea presented difficulties on closer inspection. But +as he had gone so far that it was his only hope, he made up his mind to +risk all. He saw but one possible way of carrying out his scheme. It was +exactly the way which no cautious man would ever have dreamed of taking, +and therefore it suited the daring inexperience of the boy. Therefore, +also, it was precisely what no one would dream of guarding against. In +fact, Bertie was driven by stress of circumstances into a stroke of +genius. He took his leap, and entered on a period of suspense, anxiety and +sustained excitement which had a wild exhilaration and sense of +recklessness in it. He suffered much from a strong desire to burst into +fits of unseasonable laughter. His nerves were so tensely strung that it +might have been expected he would be irritable; and so he was sometimes, +but never with Judith. + +Thorne listened night after night for the man with the latch-key, but he +listened in vain. He was only partly reassured, for he feared that matters +were not going on well at St. Sylvester's. Indeed, he knew they were not, +for Bertie had strolled into his room one day with a face like a +thundercloud. The young fellow was out of temper, and perhaps a little off +his guard in consequence. When Gordon amused himself by baiting him, Lisle +was forced to keep silence; but in this case it was possible, if not quite +prudent, to allow himself the relief of speech. + +"What is the matter?" said Percival, looking up from his book. + +Bertie, who had turned his back on him, stood looking out of the window +and tapping a tune on the pane. "What's the matter?" he repeated. "Clifton +has taken it into his stupid head to lecture me about some rubbish he has +heard somewhere. Why doesn't some one lock him up in an idiot asylum? The +meddling fool!" + +"If that is qualification enough--" Thorne began mildly, but Bertie raged +on: + +"What business is it of his? I'm not going to stand his impudence, as I'll +precious soon let him know. A likely story! He didn't buy me body and soul +for his paltry salary, though he seems to think it. The old humbug in a +cassock! It's a great deal of preaching and very little practice with him, +_I_ know." + +(He knew nothing of the kind. Mr. Clifton was a well-meaning man, who had +never disturbed his mind by analyzing his own opinions nor any one else's, +and who worked conscientiously in his parish. But no doubt Bertie had too +much respect for truth to let it be mixed up with a fit of ill-temper.) + +"Take care what you are about," said Percival as he turned a leaf. He +looked absently at the next page. "I don't want to interfere with you--" + +"Oh, _you!_ that's different," said Lisle without looking round. "Not that +I should recommend even you--" + +"Don't finish: I hope the caution isn't needed. Of course you will do as +you think best. You are your own master, but I know you'll not forget that +it is a question of your sister's bread as well as your own. That's all. +If you can do better for her--" + +Bertie half smiled, but still he looked out of the window, and he did not +speak. Presently the fretful tapping on the pane ceased, and he began to +whistle the same tune very pleasantly. At last, after some time, the tune +stopped altogether. "I believe I'm a fool," said Lisle. "After all, what +harm can Clifton do to me? And, as you say, it would be a pity to make +Judith uneasy. Bless the stupid prig! he shall lecture me again to-morrow +if he likes. He hasn't broken any bones this time, and I dare say he won't +the next." The young fellow came lounging across the room with his hands +in his pockets as he spoke. "I suppose he has gone on preaching till it's +his second nature. Talk of the girl in the fairy-tale dropping toads and +things from her lips! Why, she was a trifle to old Clifton. I do think he +can't open his mouth without letting a sermon run out." + +Thorne was relieved at the turn Bertie's meditations had taken, but he +could not think that the young fellow's position at St. Sylvester's was +very secure. Neither did Judith. Neither did Bertie himself. The thought +did not trouble him, but Judith was evidently anxious. + +"You do too much," said Percival one day to her. They were walking to St. +Sylvester's, and Bertie had run back for some music which had been +forgotten. + +"Perhaps," said Judith simply. "But it can't be helped." + +"What! are they all so busy at Standon Square?" + +"Well, the holidays, being so near, make more work, and give one the +strength to get through it." + +"I'm not so sure of that. I'm afraid Miss Crawford leaves too much to you, +and you will break down." + +"I'm more afraid Miss Crawford will break down. Poor old lady! it goes to +my heart to see her. She tries so hard not to see that she is past work; +and she is." + +"Is she so old? I didn't know--" + +"She was a governess till she was quite middle-aged, and then she had +contrived to scrape together enough to open this school. My mother was her +first pupil, and the best and dearest of all, she says. She had a terribly +up-hill time to begin with, and even now it is no very great success. +Though she might do very well, poor thing! if they would only let her +alone." + +"And who will not let her alone?" + +"Oh, there is a swarm of hungry relations, who quarrel over every +half-penny she makes; and she is so good! But you can understand why she +is anxious not to think that her harvest-time is over." + +"Poor old lady!" said Percival. "And her strength is failing?" + +Judith nodded: "She does her best, but it makes my heart ache to see her. +She comes down in the morning trying to look so bright and young in a +smart cap and ribbons: I feel as if I could cry when I see that cap, and +her poor shaky hands going up to it to put it straight." There were tears +in the girl's voice as she spoke. "And her writing! It is always the bad +paper or the bad pen, or the day is darker than any day ever was before." + +"Does she believe all that?" the young man asked. + +"I hardly know. I think she never has opened her eyes to the truth, but I +suspect she feels that she is keeping them shut. It is just that trying +not to see which is so pathetic, somehow. I find all manner of little +excuses for doing the writing, or whatever it may happen to be, instead of +her, and then I see her looking at me as if she half doubted me." + +"Does the school fall off at all?" + +"I'm not sure. Schools fluctuate, you know, and it seems they had scarlet +fever about six months ago. That might account for a slight decrease in +the numbers: don't you think so?" + +"Oh, certainly," said Percival, with as much confidence as if +boarding-school statistics had been the one study of his life. "No doubt +of it." + +They walked a few paces in silence, and then Judith said, "Perhaps she +will be better after the holidays. I think she is very tired, she is so +terribly drowsy. She drops asleep directly she sits down, and is quite +sure she has been awake all the time. I'm so afraid the girls may take +advantage of it some day." + +"But even for Miss Crawford's sake you must not do too much," urged +Percival. + +"I will try not. But it is such a comfort to me to be able to help her! If +it were not for that, I sometimes question whether I did wisely in coming +here at all." + +"If it is not an impertinent question--though I rather think it is--what +should you have done if you had not come?" + +"I should have stayed with an aunt of mine. She wanted me, but she would +not help Bertie, and I fancied that I could be of use to him. But I doubt +if I can do him much good, and if I lost my situation I should only be a +burden to him." + +"Perhaps that might do him more good than anything," Percival suggested. +"He might rise to the occasion and take life in earnest, which is just +what he wants, isn't it? For any one can see how fond he is of you." + +"He's a dear boy," Judith answered with a smile, and looked over her +shoulder. The dear boy was not in sight. + +"Plenty of time," said Percival. "But it is rather a long way for him, so +often as he has to go to St. Sylvester's." + +"He doesn't mind that. He says he can do it in less than ten minutes, only +to-day he had to go back, you see." + +"It isn't so far as it would be to St. Andrew's," Thorne went on. "By the +way, have you ever been to your parish church?" + +"Never. I don't think your description was very inviting." + +"Oh, but it would be worth while to go once. The first time I went I +thought it was like a quaint, melancholy dream. Such a dim, hollow, dusty +old building, and little cherubs with grimy little marble faces looking +down from the walls. When the congregation began to shuffle in each +new-comer was more decrepit and withered than the last, till I looked to +see if they could really be coming through the doorway from the outer +world, or whether the vaults were open and they were the ghosts of some +dead-and-gone congregation of long ago. And when I looked round again, +there was the clergyman in a dingy surplice, as if he had risen like a +spectre in his place. He stared at us all with his dull old eyes, and +turned the leaves of a great book. And all at once he began to read, in a +piping voice so thin and weak that it sounded just like the echo of some +former service--as if it had been lost in the dusty corners, and was +coming back in a broken, fragmentary way. It was all the more like an echo +because the old clerk is very deaf, and he begins in a haphazard fashion +when he thinks it is time for the other to have done. So sometimes there +is a long pause, and then you have their two old voices mixed up together, +like an echo when it grows confused. It is very strange--gives one all +manner of quaint fancies. You should go once. Nothing could be more +utterly unlike St. Sylvester's." + +"I think I will go," said Judith. "I know a church something like that, +only not quite so dead. There is a queer old clerk there too." + +"Where is that?" + +"Oh, it isn't anywhere near here. A little old-fashioned country +town--Rookleigh." + +Percival turned eagerly: "Where did you say? _Rookleigh_?" + +"Yes. Why, do you know anything of it?" + +"Tell me what you know of it." + +"My aunt, Miss Lisle, lives there--the aunt I was telling you about, who +wanted me to stay with her." + +"And you were there last summer?" + +"Yes. In fact, I was there on a visit when I heard that--that our home was +broken up. I stayed on for some time: I had nowhere to go." + +"Miss Lisle lives in a red house by the river-side," said Percival, +prompted by a sudden impulse. + +It was Judith's turn to look surprised: "Yes, she does. But, Mr. Thorne, +how do you know?" + +"The garden slopes to the water's edge," he went on, not heeding her. "And +there is a wide gravel-path down the middle, cutting it exactly in two. It +is all very neat--it is wonderfully neat--and Miss Lisle comes down the +path, looking right and left to see whether all the carnations and the +chrysanthemum-plants are tied up properly, and whether there are any +snails." + +"Mr. Thorne, who told you--? No, you must have seen." + +"But you didn't walk with her. There was a cross-path behind some +evergreens." + +"Yes," said Judith: "I hated to be seen then. I couldn't go beyond the +garden, and I used to walk backward and forward there, so many times to a +mile--I forget how many now. But, Mr. Thorne, tell me, how do you know all +this?" + +"It is simple enough," he said. "I was at Rookleigh one day, and I +strolled along the path by the river. You can see the house from the +farther side. I stood and looked at it." + +"Yes, but how did you know whose house it was?" + +"I hadn't the least idea. But it took my fancy--why I don't know. And +while I was looking I saw that some one came and went behind the +evergreens." + +"Then it was only a guess when you began to describe it?" + +"Well, I suppose so. It must have been, mustn't it?" he said, looking +curiously at her. "But it felt like a certainty." + +They were just at St. Sylvester's, and Bertie ran up panting, waving his +music. "Lucky I've not got to sing," said the young fellow in a jerky +voice, and rushed to the vestry-door, where Mr. Clifton fidgeted, watch in +hand. After such a race it was natural enough that the young organist +should be somewhat flushed as he went up the aisle with a surpliced boy at +his heels. But Judith had not hurried--had rather lingered, looking back. +What was the meaning of that soft rosy glow upon her cheeks? And why was +Thorne so absent, standing up and sitting down mechanically, till the +service was half over before he knew it? + +He was recalling that day at Rookleigh--the red houses by the water-side, +the poplars, the pigeons, the old church, the sleepy streets, the hot blue +sky, the gray glitter of the river through the boughs, and the girl half +seen behind the evergreens. She had been to him like a fair faint figure +in a dream, and the airy fancies that clustered round her had been more +dreamy yet. But suddenly the dream-girl had stepped out of the clouds into +every-day life, and stood in flesh and blood beside him. And the nameless +fascination with which his imagination had played was revealed as the +selfsame attraction as that which his soul had known when, years before, +he first met Judith Lisle. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +FAINT HEART WINS FAIR LADY. + + +Percival Thorne would have readily declared that it was a matter of utter +indifference to him whether his landlady went at the end of March to pay a +three weeks' visit to her eldest sister or whether she stayed at home. He +took very little notice when Mrs. Bryant told him of her intention. She +talked for some time. When she was gone Thorne found himself left with the +impression that the lady in question was a Mrs. Smith, who resided +somewhere in Bethnal Green; that some one was a plumber and glazier; that +some one had had the measles; that trade was not all one could wish, nor +were Mrs. Bryant's relations quite what they should have been, but that, +she thanked Goodness, they were not all alike. This struck him as a +reasonable cause for thankfulness, as otherwise there would certainly have +been a terrible monotony in the family circle. He also had an idea that +Mrs. Smith had received a great deal of good advice on the subject of her +marriage, and he rather thought that Smith was not the sort of man to +make a woman happy. "Either Smith isn't, or Bryant wasn't when he was +alive--now which was it?" smiled Percival to himself, ruffling his wavy +hair and leaning back in his chair with a confused sense of relief. And +then the dispute about the grandmother's crockery came in, and the uncle +who had a bit of money and married the widow at Margate. "I hope to +Goodness Mrs. Bryant will stay away some time if she has half as much to +say on her return!" + +The good woman had not gone into Mr. Thorne's room for the purpose of +giving him all this information. It had come naturally to her lips when +she found herself there, but she merely wished to suggest to him that +Lydia would be busy while she was away, and money-matters were terribly +muddling, weren't they? and perhaps it would make it easier if Mr. +Thorne's bill stood over. Percival understood in a moment. The careworn +face, the confused manner, told him all. Lydia would probably waste the +money, and the old lady, though with perceptible hesitation, had decided +to trust him rather than her daughter. It was so. Lydia considered that +her mother was stingy, and that finery was indispensable while she was +husband-hunting. + +"You see, there'll be one less to feed, and it would only bother her; and +you've always been so regular with your money," said Mrs. Bryant +wistfully. + +"Oh, I see, perfectly," Thorne replied. "I won't trouble Miss Bryant about +it. It shall be all ready for you when you come back, of course. A +pleasant journey to you!" + +The old lady went off, not without anxiety, but very favorably impressed +with Percival's lofty manner. And he thought no more about it. But the +time came when he wished that Mrs. Bryant had never thought of visiting +Mrs. Smith of Bethnal Green at all. + +Easter fell very late that year, far on in April, and it seemed to Judith +that the holidays would never come. At last, however, they were within a +week of the breaking-up day. It was Sunday, and she could say to herself, +"Next Thursday I shall be free." + +Bertie and she had just breakfasted, and he was leaning in his favorite +attitude against the chimney-piece. She had taxed him with looking ill, +but he had smilingly declared that there was nothing amiss with him. + +"Do you sleep well, Bertie?" she asked wistfully. + +"Pretty well. Not very much last night, by the way. But you are whiter +than I am: look at yourself in the glass. Even if you deduct the green--" + +Judith gazed into the verdant depths. "I don't know how much to allow," +she said thoughtfully. "By the way, Bertie, I'm not going with you to St. +Sylvester's this morning." + +"All right!" said Bertie. + +"I have a fancy to go to St. Andrew's for once," said Judith, arranging +the ribbon at her throat as she spoke--"just for a change. You don't mind, +do you?" + +"Mind? no," said Bertie, but something in his voice caused her to look +round. He was as pale as death, grasping the chimney-piece with one hand +while the other was pressed upon his heart. + +"Bertie! You _are_ ill! Lean on me." The little sofa was close by, and she +helped him to it and ran for eau de cologne. When she came back he was +lying with his head thrown back, white and still, yet looking more like +himself than in that first ghastly moment. Presently the blood came back +to cheek and lip, and he looked up and smiled. "You are better?" she said +anxiously. + +"Oh yes, I'm better. I'm all right. Can't think what made me make such a +fool of myself." + +"No, don't get up: lie still a little longer," said Judith, standing over +him with the wicker flask in her hand. "Oh, how you frightened me!" + +"Don't pour any more of that stuff over me," he answered languidly. "You +must have expended quarts. I can feel little rivulets of it creep-creeping +at the roots of my hair." + +"But, Bertie, what was the matter with you?" + +"I hardly know. It's all over now. My heart seemed to stop beating just +for a moment. I wonder if it did, really? Or should I have died? Do sit +down, Judith. You look as if you were going to faint too." + +She sat down by him. After a minute Bertie's slim, long fingers groped +restlessly, and she held them in a tender grasp. So for some time they +remained hand in hand. Judith watched him furtively as he lay with closed +eyes, his fair boyish face pressed on the dingy cushion, and a great +tenderness lighted her quiet glance. Suddenly, Bertie's eyes opened and +met hers. She answered his look of inquiry: "You are all I have, dear. We +two are alone, are we not? I must be anxious if you are ill." + +He pressed her hand, but he turned his face a little away, conscious at +the same moment of a flush of self-reproach and of a lurking smile. +"Don't!" he said. "I'm not ill. I'm all right now--never better. Isn't it +time for me to be off? I say, my dear girl, if you don't look sharp you'll +be late at St. Andrew's." + +"St. Andrew's!" she repeated scornfully. "_I_ go to St. Andrew's _now_, +and think all the service through that my bad boy may be fainting at St. +Sylvester's! No, no: I shall go with you." + +"Thank you," said Bertie, sitting up and running his fingers through his +hair by way of preparation for church. "I shall be glad, if you don't +mind." + +"That is," she went on, "if you are fit to go at all." + +"Oh yes. I couldn't leave old Clifton in the lurch for anything short of +sudden death, and even then he'd feel himself ill used. Stay at home +because I felt faint? It would be as much as my place is worth," said +Bertie with a smile of which Judith could not understand the fine irony. + +"I'll go and get ready," she said. But she went to the door of Percival's +sitting-room and knocked. + +"Come in," he answered, and she opened it. He was stooping over his fire, +poker in hand. She paused on the threshold, and, after breaking a hard +lump of coal, he looked over his shoulder: "Miss Lisle! I beg your +pardon. I thought they had come for the breakfast things." + +"Oh!" she said, in a slightly disappointed tone. "You are not going to +church to-day." For Thorne was more picturesquely careless in his apparel +than is the wont of the British church-goer. + +A rapid change of mind enabled him to answer truthfully, "Yes, I am. I +ought to get ready, I suppose. Did you want me for anything, Miss Lisle?" + +"Were you going to St. Sylvester's, or not?" + +Percival had known by her tone that she wanted him to go to church. But he +did not know which church claimed his attendance, so he answered +cautiously, "Oh, I hardly know. I think I should like some one to make up +my mind for me. Are you going with your brother?" + +"Yes," said Judith. "He isn't very well to-day. I was rather frightened by +his fainting just now." + +"Of course I'll go with you," said Percival. "I'll be ready in two +minutes. Been fainting? Is he better now?" + +"Much better. Will you really?" And Judith vanished. + +Percival was perhaps a little longer than the time he had named, but he +soon came out in a very different character from that of the young man who +had lounged over his late breakfast in his shabby coat. He looked +anxiously at young Lisle as they started, but Bertie's appearance was +hardly such as to call for immediate alarm. He seemed well enough, +Percival thought, though perhaps a little excited. In truth, there was not +much amiss with him. He had got over the uneasy sense of self-reproach: +the sudden shock which had caused his dismay was past, and as he went his +way, solemnly escorted by his loving sister and his devoted friend, he was +suffering much more from suppressed laughter than from anything else. +Everything was a joke, and the narrowness of his escape that morning was a +greater joke than all. "By Jove! what a laugh we will have over it one of +these days!" thought Lisle as he put on his surplice. + +Loving eyes followed him as he went to his place, and his name was fondly +breathed in loving prayers. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + +THE LAST MUSIC-LESSON. + + +On the Tuesday morning Bertie was late for breakfast, and came in yawning +rather ostentatiously. Judith protested good-humoredly: "Lie in bed late +_or_ yawn, but you can't want to do both. Why, it is eleven hours since +you went up to bed!" This was perfectly true, but not so much to the point +as she supposed. + +Ever since the mysterious fainting-fit Judith had watched him with tender +anxiety, and it seemed to her that there was something strange in his +manner that morning. She did not know what it was, but had she held any +clew to his thoughts she would have perceived that Bertie was astonished +and bewildered. He looked as if a dream had suddenly become a reality, as +if a jest had turned into marvellous earnest. He smoked his pipe, leaning +by the open window, with a serious and almost awestruck expression in his +eyes. One might have fancied that he was transformed visibly to himself, +and was perplexed to find that the change was invisible to others. Judith +could not understand this quiet gravity. + +She came up to him and laid her hand caressingly on his shoulder. He did +not turn, but pointed with the stem of his pipe across the street. "Look!" +he said. "There's a bit of houseleek on those tiles. I never saw it till +to-day." + +"Nor I." + +"It looks green and pleasant," said Bertie in a gentle, meditative voice. +"I like it." + +"Our summer garden," Judith suggested. + +"I wonder if there's any houseleek on our roof?" he went on after a +moment. + +"We will hope so, for our neighbors' sake," said his sister. "It's a new +idea to me. I thought our roof was nothing but tiles and cats--principally +cats." + +Bertie smoked his pipe, and surveyed the houseleek as if it were a +newly-discovered star. Everything was strange and wonderful that morning. +Vague ideas floated in the atmosphere, half seen against the background of +common things. The mood, born of exceptional circumstances, was unique in +his life. Had it been habitual, there would have been hope of a new poet, +or, since his taste lay in the direction of wordless harmony, of a great +musician. + +"You won't be late at the square, Bertie dear?" said Judith. + +"No, I'll not be late," he answered absently. He felt that the pale gold +of the April sunlight was beautiful even in Bellevue street. + +"The last lesson," she said. Bertie, suddenly roused, looked round at her +with startled eyes. "What! had you forgotten that the girls go home +to-morrow?" cried Judith in great surprise. She had counted the days so +often. + +He laughed shortly and uneasily: "I suppose I had. Queer, wasn't it? Yes, +it's my last lesson, as you say. If I had only thought of it, I might have +composed a Lament, taught it to all my pupils, and charged a fancy price +for it in the bill." + +"That would have been very touching. A little tiresome to you perhaps, and +to Miss Crawford--" + +"Bless you! she's always asleep," said Bertie, knocking the ashes out of +his pipe and pocketing it. "I might teach them the Old Hundredth, one +after the other, all the morning through: she wouldn't know. So your work +ends to-morrow?" + +"Not quite. The girls go to-morrow, but I have promised to be at the +square on Thursday. There's a good deal to be done, and I should like to +see Miss Crawford safely off in the afternoon." + +"Where's the old woman going?" + +"To Cromer for a few days. She lived there as a child, and loves it more +than any place in the world." + +"Does the poor old lady think she'll grow young again there?" said Bertie. +"Well, perhaps she will," he added after a pause. "At any rate, she may +forget that she has grown old." + +Punctually at the appointed hour the young music-master arrived in Standon +Square. It was for the last time, as Judith had said. Miss Crawford looked +older, and Miss Crawford's cap looked newer, than either had ever done +before. She put her weak little hand into Bertie's, and said some prim, +kindly words about the satisfaction his lessons had given, the progress +his pupils had made and the confidence she felt in his sister and himself. +As she spoke she was sure he was gratified, for the color mounted to his +face. Suddenly she stopped in the midst of her neatly-worded sentences. +"You are like your mother, Mr. Lisle," she said: "I never saw it so much +before." And she murmured something, half to herself, about her first +pupil, the dearest of them all. Bertie, for once in his life, was silent +and bashful. + +The old lady rang the bell, and requested that Miss Macdonald might be +told that it was time for her lesson and that Mr. Lisle had arrived. +During the brief interval that ensued the music-master looked furtively +round the room, as if he had never seen it before. It seemed to him almost +as if he looked at it with different eyes, and read Miss Crawford's life +in it. It was a prim, light-colored drawing-room, adorned with many +trifles which were interesting as indications of patience and curious in +point of taste. There was a great deal of worsted work, and still more of +crochet. Everything that could possibly stand on a mat stood on a mat, and +other mats lay disconsolately about, waiting as cabmen wait for a fare. +Every piece of furniture was carefully arranged with a view to supporting +the greatest possible number of anti-macassars. There were water-color +paintings on the walls, and bouquets of wax flowers bloomed gayly under +glass shades on every table. There were screens, cushions, pen-wipers. +Bertie calculated that Miss Crawford's drawing-room might yield several +quarts of beads. He had seen all these things many times, but they had +acquired a new meaning and interest that day. + +Miss Macdonald appeared, and Miss Crawford seated herself on a pink rose, +about the size of a Jersey cabbage, with two colossal buds, and rested her +tired back against a similar group. At the first notes of the piano her +watchful and smiling face relaxed and she nodded wearily in the +background. It did not matter much. The young master was grave, silent, +patient, conscientious. In fact, it did not matter at all. Having slept +through the earlier lessons, the schoolmistress might well sleep through +this. It was rather a pity that, instead of taking a placid and unbroken +rest on the sofa, she sat stiffly on a worked chair and started into +uneasy wakefulness between the lessons, dismissing one girl and sending +for the next with infinite politeness and propriety. At last she said, +"And will you have the kindness to tell Miss Nash?" + +Bertie sat turning over a piece of music till the sound of the opening +door told him that his pupil had arrived. Then he rose and looked in her +direction, but avoided her eyes. + +There was no school-girl slovenliness about Emmeline Nash. Her gray dress +was fresh and neat, a tiny bunch of spring flowers was fastened in it, a +ribbon of delicate blue was round her neck. As she came forward with a +slight flush on her cheek, her head carried defiantly and the sunlight +shining on her pale hair, Miss Crawford said to herself that really she +was a stylish girl, ladylike and pretty. Her schoolfellows declared that +Emmeline always went about with her mouth hanging open. But that day the +parted lips had an innocent expression of wonder and expectation. + +The lesson was begun in as business-like a fashion as the others. Perhaps +Emmeline regaled the young master with a few more false notes than usual, +but she was curiously intent on the page before her. Presently she stole a +glance over her shoulder at Miss Crawford. She was asleep. Emmeline played +a few bars mechanically, and then she turned to Bertie. + +The eyes which met her own had an anxious, tender, almost reverential, +expression. This slim fair girl had suddenly become a very wonderful +being to Lisle, and he touched her hand with delicate respect and looked +strangely at her pretty vacant face. + +Had there been the usual laughter lurking in his glance, Emmeline would +have giggled. Her nerves were tensely strung, and giggling was her sole +expression for a wide range of emotion. But his gravity astonished her so +much that she looked at the page before her again, and went on playing +with her mouth open. + +Toward the close of the lesson master and pupil exchanged a few whispered +words. "You may rely on me," said Bertie finally: "what did I promise this +morning?" He spoke cautiously, watching Miss Crawford. She moved in her +light slumber and uttered an inarticulate sound. The young people started +asunder and blushed a guilty red. Emmeline, with an unfounded assumption +of presence of mind, began to play a variation containing such loud and +agitated discords that further slumber must have been miraculous. But +Lisle interposed. "Gently," he said. "Let me show you how that should be +played." And he lulled the sleeper with the tenderest harmony. + +In due time the lesson came to an end. Miss Crawford presided over the +farewell, and regretted that it was really Miss Nash's last lesson, as +(though Mr. Lisle perhaps was not aware of it) she was not coming back to +Standon Square. Mr. Lisle in his turn expressed much regret, and said that +he should miss his pupil. "You must on no account forget to practise every +day," said the old lady, turning to Emmeline.--"Must she, Mr. Lisle?" + +Mr. Lisle hoped that Miss Nash would devote at least three hours every day +to her music. The falsehood was so audacious that he shuddered as he +uttered it. He made a ceremonious bow and fled. + +[Illustration: "SHE WAS ASLEEP."--Page 426.] + +Going back to Bellevue street, he locked himself into his room and turned +out all his worldly goods. A little portmanteau was carefully packed with +a selection from them, and hidden away in a cupboard, and the rest were +laid by as nearly as possible in their accustomed order. Then he took out +his purse and examined its contents with dissatisfied eyes. "Can't get on +without the sinews of war," Bertie soliloquized. "I might manage with +double as much perhaps, but how shall I get it? Spoiling the Egyptians +would be the scriptural course of conduct I suppose, and I'm ready; but +where are the Egyptians? I wonder if Judith keeps a hoard anywhere? Or +Lydia? Shall I go and ask her to lend me jewels of silver and jewels of +gold? Poor Lydia! I fear I could hardly find a plausible excuse for +borrowing the blue earrings. And I doubt they wouldn't help me much. No, I +must find some better plan than that." + +He was intensely excited: his flushed cheek and glittering eyes betrayed +it. But the feelings of the morning had worn off in the practical work of +packing and preparing for his flight. Perhaps it was as well they had, for +they could hardly have survived an interview with Lydia in the afternoon. +She was suspicious, and required coaxing to begin with. + +"Why, what's the matter, Lydia?" said Lisle at last in his gentlest voice. +"You might do this for me." + +"You are always wanting something done for you." + +"Oh, Lydia! and I've been such a good boy lately!" + +"Too good by half," said Lydia. + +"And a month ago I was always too bad. How am I to hit your precise taste +in wickedness?" + +"Oh, I ain't particular to a shade," said Lydia, "as you might know by my +helping you to deceive ma and your sister. But as to your goodness, I +don't believe in it: so there! Don't tell me! People don't give up all at +once, and go to bed at ten o'clock every night, and turn as good as all +that. It's my belief you mean to bolt. What have you been doing?" + +"Look here, Lydia, I've told you once, and I tell you again: I want a +holiday, and I'm off for two or three days by myself--can't be tied to my +sister's apron-string all my life. But I would rather not have any fuss +about it, so I shall just go quietly, and send her a line when I've +started. I want you to get that portmanteau off, so that I may pick it up +at the station to-morrow morning. I _did_ think I might count on _you_," +said Bertie with heartrending pathos: delicately-shaded acting would have +been wasted on Miss Bryant. "You've always been as true as steel. But it +seems I was mistaken. Well, no matter. If my sister makes a scene about +my going away, it can't be helped. Perhaps I was wrong to keep my little +secrets from her and trust them to any one else." + +"I don't say that," Lydia replied. "P'raps others may do as well or better +by you." + +"Thank you all the same for your former kindness," Bertie continued in a +tone of gentle resignation, ignoring her remark. "Since you won't, there +is nothing more to be said." + +"What do you want to fly off in that fashion for?" said Lydia. "I'll see +about your portmanteau if this is all true--" + +Bertie assumed an insulted-gentleman air: it was extremely lofty: "Oh, if +you doubt me, Miss Bryant--" + +"Gracious me! You _are_ touchy!" exclaimed poor Lydia in perplexity and +distress. "Only one word: you haven't been doing anything bad?" + +"On my honor--no," said Bertie haughtily. + +"And there's nothing wrong about the portmanteau?" + +"Oh, this is too much!" Lisle exclaimed. "I can't be cross-questioned in +this fashion--even by _you_." The careless parenthesis was not without +effect. "Wrong about it--no! But we'll leave the subject altogether, if +you please. I won't trouble you any further." + +It was evident to Lydia that he was offended. There was an angry light in +his eyes and his cheeks were flushed. "You _are_ unkind," she said. "I'll +see about it for you; and you knew I would." She saw Bertie's handsome +face dimly through a mist of gathering tears. + +"Crying?" said Lisle. "Not for me, Lydia? I'm not worth it." + +"That I'll be bound you are not," said the girl. + +"Then why do you do it?" + +"Perhaps you think we always measure our tears, and mind we don't give +over-weight," said Lydia scornfully. "Shouldn't cry much at that rate, I +expect. I do it because I'm a fool, if you particularly want to know." + +Lisle was wondering what style of answer would be suitable and harmless +when Mr. Fordham came up the stairs. Lydia saw him, exclaimed, "Oh my +good gracious!" and vanished, while Bertie strolled into his room, +invoking blessings on the old man's head. + +That evening there was a choir-practice at St. Sylvester's. Mr. Clifton +was peculiarly tiresome, and the young organist replied with an air of +easy scorn, the more irritating that it was so good-humored. Had the +worthy incumbent been a shade less musical there would have been a quarrel +then and there. But how could he part with a man who played so splendidly? +Bertie received his instructions as to their next meeting with an unmoved +face. "It is so important now that Easter is so near," said the clergyman. +"Thursday evening, and you won't be late?" + +"Au revoir, then," said Lisle airily, "since we are to meet so soon." And +with a pleasant smile he went his way. + +When he got back he found Judith at home, looking worn and white. He was +tenderly reproachful. "I'm sure you want your tea," he said. "You should +not have thought about me." He waited on her, he busied himself about her +in a dozen little ways. He was bright, gay, affectionate. A faint color +flushed her face and a smile dawned on her lips. How could she fail to be +pleased and touched? How could she do otherwise than smile at this paragon +of young brothers? He talked of holiday schemes in a happy though rather +random fashion. He sang snatches of songs softly in his pleasant tenor +voice. + +"Bertie, our mother used to sing that," said Judith after one of them. + +"Did she?" He paused. "I don't remember." + +"No, you can't," she answered sorrowfully. "I wish you could." + +"I've only the faintest and most shadowy recollection--just a dim idea of +somebody," he replied. "But in my little childish troubles I always had +you. I don't think I wanted any one else." + +Judith took his hand in hers, and held it for a moment fondly clasped: +"You can't think how much I like to hear you say that." + +Lisle blushed, and was thankful for the dim light. "Do you know," he said +hurriedly, "I rather think I may have a chance of giving old Clifton +warning before long?" + +"Oh, Bertie! Where could you get anything else as good?" + +"Not five-and-twenty miles away." Bertie named a place which they had +passed on their journey to Brenthill. "Gordon of our choir told me of it +this evening. I think I shall run over to-morrow and make inquiries." + +"But why would it be so much better?" + +"There's a big grammar school and they have a chapel. I should be organist +there." + +"But do they pay more?" she persisted. + +"Hardly as much to the organist perhaps. But I could give lessons in the +school, Gordon tells me, and make no end of money so. Oh, it would be a +first-rate thing for me." + +"And for me?" + +"Oh, I hope you won't have to go on slaving for Miss Crawford. You must +come and keep house--" Bertie stopped abruptly. He could deceive on a +grand scale, but these small fibs, which came unexpectedly, confused him +and stuck in his throat. + +"Keep house for you? Is that all I am to do? Bertie, how rich do you hope +to be?" + +"Rich enough to keep you very soon," he answered gravely. + +"But does Mr. Gordon think you have a chance of this appointment?" + +"Why not?" said Bertie. "I am fit for it." There was no arrogance in his +simple statement of the fact. + +"I know you are. All the same, I think I won't give up my situation till +we see how this new plan turns out. And I don't want to be idle." + +"But I don't want you to work," said Bertie. "You are killing yourself, +and you know it. Well, this is worth inquiring about at any rate, isn't +it?" + +"Yes, it certainly is. It sounds very pleasant. But pray don't be rash: +don't give up what you have already until you quite see your way." + +"No, but I think I do see it. I'll just take the 8.35 train to-morrow and +find out how the land lies. I can be back early in the afternoon." + +So the matter was settled. As they went off to bed Lisle casually remarked +that he had not seen Thorne that day: "Is he out, I wonder?" + +Miss Bryant was making her nightly examination of the premises. She +overheard the remark as she turned down the gas in the passage, and +informed them that when Mr. Thorne came in from the office he complained +of a headache, asked for a cup of tea and went early to bed. "Poor +fellow!" said Lisle.--"Good-night, Miss Bryant." + +Apparently, Percival's headache did not keep him in bed, for a light +gleamed dimly in his sitting-room late that Tuesday night. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + +A THUNDERBOLT IN STANDON SQUARE. + + +It was just one o'clock on the following Thursday, and Thorne was walking +from the office to Bellevue street. He had adopted a quicker and more +business-like pace than in old days, and came down the street with long +steps, his head high and an abstracted expression on his face. Suddenly he +stopped. "Miss Lisle!" he exclaimed. "Good God! What is the matter?" + +It was Judith, but so pale, with fear and horror looking so terribly out +of her eyes, that she was like a spectre of herself. She stopped short as +he had done, and gazed blankly at him. + +"Judith, what is it?" he repeated. "For God's sake, speak! What is the +matter?" + +He saw that she made a great effort to look like her usual self, and that +she partly succeeded. "I don't know," she answered. "Please come, Mr. +Thorne, but don't say anything to me yet. Not a word, please." + +In silence he offered her his arm. She took it, and they went on together. +Something in Judith Lisle always appealed with peculiar force to +Percival's loyalty. He piqued himself on not even looking inquiringly at +his companion as they walked, but he felt her hand quivering on his arm, +and his brain was busy with conjectures. "Bertie has been away the last +day or two," he said to himself. "Can she have heard any bad news of him? +But why is she so mysterious about it, for she is not the girl to make a +needless mystery?" When they reached Bellevue street she quitted his arm, +thanked him with a look and went up stairs. Percival followed her. + +She opened the door of her sitting-room and looked in. Then she turned to +the young man, who stood gravely in the background as if awaiting her +orders. + +"Will you come in?" she said. But when she thought he was about to speak +she made a quick sign with her hand: "Not yet, please." + +The cloth was laid, but some books and papers had been pushed to one end +of the table. Judith went to them and lifted them carefully, as if she +were looking for something. Then she went to the little side-table, then +to the chimney-piece, still seeking, while Thorne stood by the window +silently waiting. + +The search was evidently unavailing, and Judith rang the bell. During the +pause which ensued she rested her elbow on the back of Bertie's easy-chair +and covered her eyes with her hand. She was shaking from head to foot, but +when the door opened she stood up and tried to speak in her usual voice: +"Are there any letters by the second post for me, Emma?" + +The little maid looked wonderingly at Mr. Thorne and then at Miss Lisle: +"No, ma'am: I always bring 'em up." + +"I know you do, but I thought they might have been forgotten. Will you ask +Miss Bryant if she is quite sure none came for me this morning?" + +There was another silence while Emma went on her errand. She came back +with Miss Bryant's compliments, and no letters had come for Miss Lisle. + +"Thank you," said Judith. "That will do. I will ring when I want dinner +brought in." + +When they were left alone Percival stepped forward. "What is it?" he +said. "You will tell me now." + +She answered with averted eyes: "You know that our school broke up +yesterday? Emmeline Nash went away by the nine-o'clock train, but she has +never gone home." + +"Has never gone home!" Percival repeated. "That is very strange. She must +have met with some accident." There was no answer. "It may not be anything +serious: surely, you are distressing yourself too much." + +Judith looked up into his face with questioning eyes. + +"Or perhaps it is some school-girl freak," Thorne went on. "Naturally, +Miss Crawford must be very anxious, but don't make up your mind to the +worst till you know for certain." + +Still that anxious questioning look, as if she would read his very soul. +Percival was startled and perplexed, and his eyes made no response. The +girl turned away with a faint cry of impatience and despair: "And I am his +own sister!" + +Percival stood for a moment thunder-struck. Then "Bertie?" he said. + +"But you did not think of him till I spoke," she answered passionately. +"It was my doing--mine!" + +"Where is Bertie?" Thorne asked the question with something of her fear in +his eyes. + +"I don't know. I had that yesterday morning." + +He took a pencilled scrap of paper from her hand. Bertie had written, "I +find I cannot be back this afternoon, probably not till to-morrow. Don't +expect me till you see me, and don't be anxious about me. All right.--Your +H.L." + +"How did you get this?" he asked, turning it uneasily in his fingers. + +"A boy brought it from the station not half an hour after he went." + +Percival was silent. A sudden certainty had sprung up in his mind, and it +made any attempt at reassuring her little better than a lie. Yet he felt +as if his certainty were altogether unfounded. He could assign no reason +for it. The truth was, that Bertie himself was the reason, and Percival +knew him better than he had supposed. + +"Mr. Thorne," said Judith, "don't you hate me for what I've said? Surely +you must. Miss Crawford doesn't dream that Bertie has anything to do with +this. And you didn't, for I watched your eyes: you never would have +thought of him but for me. It is I, his own sister, who have hinted it. He +has nobody but me, and when his back is turned I accuse him of being so +base, so cruel, so mercenary, that--" She stopped and tried to steady her +voice. Suddenly she turned and pointed to the door: "And if he came in +there now, this minute--oh, Bertie, my Bertie, if you _would_!--if he +stood there now, I should have slandered him without a shadow of proof. +Oh, it is odious, horrible! The one in all the world who should have clung +to him and believed in him, and I have thought this of him! Say it is +horrible, unnatural--reproach me--leave me! Oh, my God! you can't." + +And in truth Percival stood mute and grave, holding the shred of paper in +his hand and making no sign through all the questioning pauses in her +words. But her last appeal roused him. "No," he said gently, "I can't +reproach you. If you are the first to think this, don't I know that you +will be the one to hope and pray when others give up?" He took her hands +in his: she suffered him to do what he would. "How should Miss Crawford +think of him?" he said. "Pray God we may be mistaken, and if Bertie comes +back can we not keep silence for ever?" + +"I could not look him in the face." + +"Tell me all," said Thorne. "Where did he say he was going? Tell me +everything. If you are calm and if we lose no time, we may unravel this +mystery and clear Bertie altogether before any harm is done. As you say, +there is no shadow of proof. Miss Nash may have gone away alone: +school-girls have silly fancies. Or perhaps some accident on the line--" + +"No," said Judith. + +"No? Are you sure? Sit down and tell me all." + +She obeyed to the best of her ability. She told him what Bertie had said +about the situation he hoped to obtain, and what little she knew about +Emmeline's disappearance. + +Percival listened, with a face which grew more anxious with every word. + +This is what had actually happened that morning at Standon Square: Judith +was busy over Miss Crawford's accounts. She remembered so well the column +of figures, and the doubtful hieroglyphic which might be an 8, but was +quite as likely to be a 3. While she sat gazing at it and weighing +probabilities in her mind the housemaid appeared, with an urgent request +that she would go to Miss Crawford at once. Obeying the summons, she found +the old lady looking at an unopened letter which lay on the table before +her. + +"My dear," said the little schoolmistress, "look at this." There was a +tone of hurried anxiety in her voice, and she held it out with fingers +that trembled a little. + +It was directed in a gentleman's hand, neat and old-fashioned: "Miss +Emmeline Nash, care of Miss Crawford, Montague House, Standon Square, +Brenthill." + +Judith glanced eagerly at the envelope. For a moment she had feared that +it might be some folly of Bertie's addressed to one of the girls. But this +was no writing of his, and she breathed again. "To Emmeline," she said. +"From some one who did not know when you broke up. Did you want me to +direct it to be forwarded?" + +"Forwarded? where? Do you know who wrote that letter?" By this time Miss +Crawford's crisp ribbons were quivering like aspen-leaves. + +"No: who? Is there anything wrong about this correspondent of Emmeline's? +I thought you would forward it to her at home. Dear Miss Crawford, what is +the matter?" + +"That is Mr. Nash's writing. Oh, Judith, what does it mean? She went away +yesterday to his house, and he writes to her here!" + +The girl was taken aback for a moment, but her swift common sense came to +her aid: "It means that Mr. Nash has an untrustworthy servant who has +carried his master's letter in his pocket, and posted it a day too late +rather than own his carelessness. Some directions about Emmeline's +journey: open it and see." + +"Ah! possibly: I never thought of that," said Miss Crawford, feeling for +her glasses. "But," her fears returning in a moment, "I ought to have +heard from Emmeline." + +"When? She would hardly write the night she got there. You were sure not +to hear this morning: you know how she puts things off. The mid-day post +will be in directly: perhaps you'll hear then. Open the letter now and set +your mind at rest." + +The envelope was torn open. "Now, you'll see he wrote it on the 18th--Good +Heavens! it's dated yesterday!" + +"MY DEAR EMMELINE: Since Miss Crawford wishes you to remain two days +longer for this lesson you talk of, I can have no possible objection, but +I wish you could have let me know a little sooner. You very thoughtfully +say you will not give me the trouble of writing if I grant your request. I +suppose it never occurred to you that by the time your letter reached me +every arrangement had been made for your arrival--a greater trouble, which +might have been avoided if you had written earlier. Neither did you give +me much choice in the matter. + +"But I will not find fault just when you are coming home. I took you at +your word when your letter arrived yesterday, and did not write. But +to-day it has occurred to me that after all you might like a line, and +that Miss Crawford would be glad to know that you will be met at the end +of your journey." + +Compliments to the schoolmistress followed, and the signature, + +"HENRY NASH." + +The two women read this epistle with intense anxiety. But while Miss +Crawford was painfully deciphering it, and had only realized the terrible +fact that Emmeline was lost, the girl's quicker brain had snatched its +meaning at a glance. She saw the cunning scheme to secure two days of +unsuspected liberty. Who had planned this? Who had so cleverly dissuaded +Mr. Nash from writing? And what had the brainless, sentimental school-girl +done with the time? + +"Where is she?" cried Miss Crawford, clinging feebly to Judith. "Oh, has +there been some accident?" + +"No accident," said Judith. "Do you not see that it was planned +beforehand? She never thought of staying till Friday." + +"No, never. Oh, my dear, I don't seem able to understand. Don't you think +perhaps my head will be clearer in a minute or two? Where can she be?" + +The poor old lady looked vaguely about, as if Miss Nash might be playing +hide-and-seek behind the furniture. Her face was veined and ghastly. She +hardly comprehended the blow which was falling upon her, but she shivered +hopelessly, and thought she should understand soon, and looked up at +Judith with a mute appeal in her dim eyes. + +"Where can she be?" The girl echoed Miss Crawford's words half to herself. +"What ought we to do?" + +"I can't think why she wrote and told them not to meet her on Wednesday," +said the old lady. "So timid as Emmeline always was, and she hated +travelling alone! Oh, Judith! Has she run away with some one?" + +A cold hand seemed to clutch Judith's heart, and her face was like marble. +Bertie! Oh no--no--no! Not her brother! This treachery could not be his +work. Yet "Bertie" flashed before her eyes as if the name were written in +letters of flame on Mr. Nash's open note, on the wall, the floor, the +ceiling. It swam in a fiery haze between Miss Crawford and herself. + +She stood with her hands tightly clasped and her lips compressed. It +seemed to her that if she relaxed the tension of her muscles for one +moment Bertie's name would force its way out in spite of her. And even in +that first dismay she was conscious that she had no ground for her belief +but an unreasoning instinct and the mere fact that Bertie was away. + +"Help me, Judith!" said Miss Crawford pitifully. She trembled as she +clung to the girl's shoulder. "I'm not so young as I used to be, you know. +I don't feel as if I could stand it. Oh, if only your mamma were here!" + +Judith answered with a sob. Miss Crawford's confession of old age went to +her heart. So did that pathetic cry, which was half longing for her who +had been so many years at rest, and half for Miss Crawford's own stronger +and brighter self of bygone days. She put her arm round the schoolmistress +and held up the shaking, unsubstantial little figure. "If Bertie has done +this, he has killed her," said the girl to herself, even while she +declared aloud, "I _will_ help you, dear Miss Crawford. I will do all I +can. Don't be so unhappy: it may be better than we fear." But the last +words, instead of ringing clear and true, as consolation should, died +faintly on her lips. + +Something was done, however. Miss Crawford was put on the sofa and had a +glass of wine, while Judith sent a telegram in her name to Mr. Nash. But +the poor old lady could not rest for a moment. She pulled herself up by +the help of the back of the couch, and sitting there, with her ghastly +face surmounted by a crushed and woebegone cap, she went over the same old +questions and doubts and fears again and again. Judith answered her as +well as she could, and persuaded her to lie down once more. But in another +moment she was up again: "Judith, I want you! Come here--come quite +close!" + +"Here I am, dear Miss Crawford. What is it?" + +The old lady looked fixedly at the kneeling figure before her. "I've +nobody but you, my dear," she said. "You are a little like your mamma +sometimes." + +"Am I?" said Judith. "So much the better. Perhaps it will make you feel as +if I could help you." + +"You are not like her to-day. Your eyes are so sad and strange." Judith +tried to smile. "Your brother, Mr. Herbert, is more like her. I noticed it +when he was here last. She had just that bright, happy look." + +"I don't remember that," Judith answered. (One recollected the +school-girl, and one the wife.) + +"And that sweet smile: Mr. Herbert has that too. One could see how good +she was. But I didn't mean to talk about that. There is something--I +sha'n't be easy till I have told some one." + +"Tell me, my dear," said Judith. + +The schoolmistress looked anxiously round: "I may be mistaken--I hope I +am--but do you know, dear, I doubt I'm not quite so wakeful as I ought to +be. You wouldn't notice it, of course, because it is when I am alone or as +good as alone. But sometimes--just now and then, you know--when I have +been with the girls while they took their lessons from the masters, the +time has seemed to go so very fast. I should really have thought they +hadn't drawn a line when the drawing-master has said, 'That will do for +to-day, young ladies,' and none of them seemed surprised. And once or +twice I really haven't been _quite_ sure what they have been practising +with Mr. Herbert. But music is so very soothing, isn't it?" + +Judith held her breath in terror. And yet would it not be better if that +horrible thought came to Miss Crawford too? If others attacked him his +sister might defend. Nevertheless, she drew a long sigh of relief when the +old lady went on, as if confessing a crime of far deeper dye: "And in +church--it isn't easy to keep awake sometimes, one has heard the service +so often, and the sermons seem so very much alike--suppose some +unprincipled young man--" + +"Dear Miss Crawford, no one can wonder if you are drowsy now and then. You +are always so busy it is only natural." + +"But it isn't right. And," with the quick tears gathering in her eyes, "I +ought to have owned it before. Only, I have tried so hard to keep awake!" + +"I know you have." + +Miss Crawford drew one of her hands from Judith's clasp to find her +handkerchief, and then laid her head on the girl's shoulder and sobbed. +"If it has happened so," she said--"if it has been my carelessness that +has done it, I shall never forgive myself. Never! For I can never say +that I didn't suspect myself of being unfit. It will break my heart. I +have been so proud to think that I had never failed any one who trusted +me. And now a poor motherless girl, who was to be my especial care, who +had no one but me to care for her--Oh, Judith, what has become of her?" + +There was silence for a minute. How could Judith answer her? + +"I can never say I didn't doubt myself; but it was only a doubt. And how +could I give up with so many depending on me?" + +"Wait till we know something more," Judith pleaded. "Wait till we hear +what Mr. Nash says in answer to your message. I am sure you have tried to +act for the best." + +"I shall never hold up my head again," said Miss Crawford, and laid it +feebly down as if she were tired out. + +The telegram came. Emmeline had not been heard of, and Mr. Nash would be +at Brenthill that afternoon. + +Judith searched the little room which the school-girl had occupied, but no +indication of her intention to fly was to be found. She dared not question +the servants before Mr. Nash's arrival. Secrecy might be important, and +there would be an end to all hope of secrecy if once suspicion were +aroused. + +"There's nothing to do but to wait," she said, coming down to Miss +Crawford. "I think, if you don't mind, I'll go home for an hour or so." + +"No, no, no! don't go!" + +"I must," said Judith. "I shall not be long." + +"You will." + +"No. An hour and a half--two hours at the utmost." + +"Oh, I understand," said Miss Crawford. "You will never come back." + +"Never come back? I will promise you, if you like, that I will be here +again by half-past two--that is, if I go now." + +"Oh, of course I can't keep you: if you will go, you will. But I think it +is very cruel of you. You will leave me to face Mr. Nash alone." + +"Indeed I will not," the girl replied. + +"And, after all, it is not half so bad for you as for me. He can't blame +you. It will kill me, I think, but he can't say anything to you. Oh, +Judith, I'm only a stupid old woman, but I have meant to be kind to you." + +"No one could have been kinder," said Judith. "Miss Crawford, whatever +happens, believe me I am grateful." + +"Then you will stop--you will stop? He can't say anything to you, my +dear." + +Judith was cold with terror at the thought of what Mr. Nash might have to +say to her. At the same moment she was burning with anxiety to get to +Bellevue street and find some letter from Bertie. She freed her hands +gently, but firmly. Miss Crawford sank back in mute despair, as if she had +received her death-wound. + +"Listen to me," said Judith. "I _must_ go, but I will come back. I would +swear it, only I don't quite know how people swear," she added with a +tremulous little laugh. "Dear Miss Crawford, you trusted mamma: as surely +as I am her daughter you may trust me. Won't you trust me, dear?" + +"I'll try," said the old lady. "But why must you go?" + +"I must, really." + +"It won't be so bad for you: he can't blame you," Miss Crawford +reiterated, drearily pleading. "Judith, no one ever had the heart to be so +cruel as you will be if you don't come back." + +"But I will," said Judith. She made her escape, and met Percival Thorne on +her way to Bellevue street. + +"And now what is to be done?" she asked, looking up at him when she had +told him all. "No letter--no sign of Bertie." + +Percival might not be very ready with expedients, but his calmness and +reserve gave an impression of greater resources than he actually +possessed. He hesitated while Judith spoke, but he did not show it. There +was a pause, during which he caught at an idea, and uttered it without a +trace of indecision. "I'll look up Gordon," he said, glancing at his +watch. "If Gordon told Bertie of this situation, he may be able to tell us +where a telegram would find him. Perhaps he may explain this mysterious +little note. If we can satisfactorily account for his absence, we shall +have nothing to say about Bertie, except to justify him if any one else +should bring his name into the affair. And you could do your best to help +Mr. Nash and Miss Crawford in their search." + +"Yes, but where will you find Mr. Gordon?" + +"He's a clerk at a factory in Hill street. I will go at once." And he +hurried off. + +Judith went to the window and looked after him with a despairing sense of +loneliness in her heart. The little maid asked her if the dinner should be +brought in, and she answered in a tone that she hoped was cheerful. + +Miss Bryant came in with a dish and set it on the table. She seldom helped +in this way, and Judith divined the motive. Conscious that she was +narrowly scanned, she tried to assume a careless air, and turned away so +that the light should not fall on her face. But Lydia said nothing. She +looked at Judith doubtfully, curiously, anxiously: her lips parted, but no +word came. Judith began to eat as if in defiance. + +Lydia hesitated on the threshold, and then went away. "Stuck-up thing!" +she exclaimed as soon as she was safe in the passage. "But what has he +been doing? Oh, I must and will know!" + +Percival returned before Judith's time had expired, and came into the room +with a grave face and eyes that would not meet hers. + +"Tell me," she said. + +He turned away and studied a colored lithograph on the wall. "It wasn't +true," he said. "Gordon was at the last practicing, but he never said a +word about this organist's situation. In fact, Bertie left before the +choir separated." + +"Some one else might have told him," said Judith. + +There was a pause. "I fear not," said Percival, intently examining a very +blue church-spire in one corner of the picture. "In fact, Miss Lisle, I +don't see how any one could. There is no vacancy for an organist +there--no prospect of any vacancy. I ascertained that." + +Another pause, a much longer one. Percival had turned away from the +lithograph, but now he was looking at a threadbare place in the carpet as +thoughtfully as if he would have to pay for a new one. He touched it +lightly with his foot, and perceived that it would soon wear into a hole. + +"I must go back to Miss Crawford," said Judith suddenly. He bent his head +in silent acquiescence. "What am I to tell her?" She lifted a book from +the table, and laid it down again with a quivering hand. "Oh, it is too +cruel!" she said in a low voice. "No one could expect it of me. My own +brother!" + +"That's true. No one could expect it." + +"And yet--" said Judith. "Miss Crawford--Emmeline. Oh, Mr. Thorne, tell me +what I ought to do." + +"How can I? I don't know what to say. Why do you attempt to decide now? +You may safely leave it till the time comes." + +"Safely?" + +"Yes. You will not do less than your duty." + +She hesitated, having a woman's craving for something to which she might +cling, something definite and settled. "It is not certain," she said at +last. + +"No," he answered. "Bertie has deceived you, but it may be for some +foolish scheme of his own. He may be guiltless of this: it is only a +suspicion still." + +"Well, I will go," said Judith again. "Oh, if only he had come home!" + +"There is a choir-practice to-night," said Percival. "If all is well he +will be back in time for that. They have no doubt of his coming. Why not +leave a note?" + +She took a sheet of paper and wrote on it-- + +"MY DEAREST BROTHER:" ("If he comes back he will be best and dearest," she +thought as she wrote. It had come to this, that it was necessary to +justify the loving words! "If he comes back, oh how shall I ever atone to +him?") "Come to me at once at Standon Square. Do not lose a moment, I +entreat you. "Yours always, + +JUDITH." + +She folded and addressed it, and laid it where he could not fail to see it +as he came in. Then, having put on her hat, she turned to go. + +"Let me walk with you," said Percival. Lydia met them on the stairs and +cast a look of scornful anger on Miss Lisle. "Much she cares!" the girl +muttered. "_He_ doesn't come back, but she can go walking about with her +young man! Those two won't miss him much." + +Thorne saw his companion safely to Standon Square, and then went to the +office. He was late, a thing which had never happened before, and, though +he did his best to make up for lost time, he failed signally. His thoughts +wandered from his work to dwell on Judith Lisle, and, if truth be +confessed, on the dinner, which he had forgotten while with her. He was +tired and faint. The lines seemed to swim before his eyes, and he hardly +grasped the sense of what he wrote. Once he awoke from a reverie and found +himself staring blankly at an ink-spot on the dingy desk. The young clerk +on his right was watching him with a look of curiosity, in which there was +as much malevolence as his feeble features could express, and when Thorne +met his eyes he turned away with an unpleasant smile. It seemed as if six +o'clock would never come, but it struck at last, and Percival escaped and +made his way to Bellevue street. + +[TO BE CONTINUED.] + + + + +UNWRITTEN LITERATURE OF THE CAUCASIAN MOUNTAINEERS. + +TWO PAPERS.--I. + + +In the south-eastern corner of European Russia, between the Black Sea and +the Caspian, in about the latitude of New York City, there rises abruptly +from the dead level of the Tatar steppes a huge broken wall of snowy +alpine mountains which has been known to the world for more than two +thousand years as the great range of the Caucasus. It is in some respects +one of the most remarkable mountain-masses on the globe. Its peaks outrank +those of Switzerland both in height and in rugged grandeur of outline; its +glaciers, ice-falls and avalanches are second in extent and magnitude only +to those of the Himalayas: the diversity of its climates is only +paralleled by the diversity of the races which inhabit it; and its +history--beginning with the Argonautic expedition and ending with the +Russian conquest--is more romantic and eventful than that of any other +mountain-range in the world. + +Geographically, the Caucasus forms a boundary-line between South-eastern +Europe and Western Asia, but it is not simply a geographical boundary, +marked on the map with a red line and having no other existence: it is a +huge natural barrier seven hundred miles in length and ten thousand feet +in average height, across which, in the course of unnumbered centuries, +man has never been able to find more than two practicable passes, the +Gorge of Dariel and the Iron Gate of Derbend. Beginning at the Straits of +Kertch, opposite the Crimea on the Black Sea, the range trends in a +south-easterly direction across the whole Caucasian isthmus, terminating +on the coast of the Caspian near the half-Russian, half-Persian city of +Baku. Its entire length, measured along the crest of the central ridge, +does not probably exceed seven hundred miles, but for that distance it is +literally one unbroken wall of rock, never falling below eight thousand +feet, and rising in places to heights of sixteen and eighteen thousand, +crowned with glaciers and eternal snow. No other country which I have ever +seen presents in an equally limited area such diversities of climate, +scenery and vegetation as does the isthmus of the Caucasus. On the +northern side of its white jagged backbone lies the barren +wandering-ground of the Nogai Tatars--illimitable steppes, where for +hundreds of miles the weary eye sees in summer only a parched waste of dry +steppe-grass, and in winter an ocean of snow, dotted here and there by the +herds and the black tents of nomadic Mongols. But cross the range from +north to south and the whole face of Nature is changed. From a boundless +steppe you come suddenly into a series of shallow fertile valleys +blossoming with flowers, green with vine-tangled forests, sunny and warm +as the south of France. Sheltered by its rampart of mountains from the +cold northern winds, vegetation here assumes an almost tropical +luxuriance. Prunes, figs, olives and pomegranates grow almost without +cultivation in the open air; the magnificent forests of elm, oak, laurel, +Colchian poplar and walnut are festooned with blossoming vines; and in +autumn the sunny hillsides of Georgia and Mingrelia are fairly purple with +vineyards of ripening grapes. But climate is here only a question of +altitude. Out of these semi-tropical valleys you may climb in a few hours +to the limit of vegetable life, and eat your supper, if you feel so +disposed, on the slow-moving ice of a glacier. + +High up among the peaks of this great Caucasian range lives, and has lived +for centuries, one of the most interesting and remarkable peoples of +modern times--a people which is interesting and remarkable not only on +account of the indomitable bravery with which it defended its +mountain-home for two thousand years against all comers, but on account +of its originality, its peculiar social and political organization and its +innate intellectual capacity. I call it a "people" rather than a race, +because it comprises representatives of many races, and yet belongs, as a +whole, to none of them. It is a collection of miscellaneous elements. The +Caucasian range may be regarded for all ethnological purposes as a great +mountainous island in the sea of human history, and on that island now +live together the surviving Robinson Crusoes of a score of shipwrecked +states and nationalities, the fugitive mutineers of a hundred tribal +Bountys. Army after army has gone to pieces in the course of the last four +thousand years upon that Titanic reef; people after people has been driven +up into its wild ravines by successive waves of migration from the south +and east; band after band of deserters, fugitives and mutineers has sought +shelter there from the storms, perils and hardships of war. Almost every +nation in Europe has at one time or another crossed, passed by or dwelt +near this great Caucasian range, and each has contributed in turn its +quota to the heterogeneous population of the mountain-valleys. The +Indo-Germanic tribes as they migrated westward from Central Asia left +there a few wearied and dissatisfied stragglers; their number was +increased by deserters from the Greek and Roman armies of Alexander the +Great and Pompey; the Mongols under Tamerlane, as they marched through +Daghestan, added a few more; the Arabs who overran the country in the +eighth century established military colonies in the mountains, which +gradually blended with the previous inhabitants; European crusaders, +wandering back from the Holy Land, stopped there to rest, and never +resumed their journey; and finally, the oppressed and persecuted of all +the neighboring nations--Jews, Georgians, Armenians and Tatars--fled to +these rugged, inaccessible mountains as to a city of refuge where they +might live and worship their gods in peace. In course of time these +innumerable fragments of perhaps a hundred different tribes and +nationalities, united only by the bond of a common interest, blended into +one people and became known to their lowland neighbors as _Gortze_, or +"mountaineers." From a mere assemblage of stragglers, fugitives and +vagabonds they developed in the course of four or five hundred years into +a brave, hardy, self-reliant people, and as early as the eighth century +they had established in the mountains of Daghestan a large number of +so-called _volnea obshesve_, or "free societies," governed by elective +franchise, without any distinction of birth or rank. After this time they +were never conquered. Both the Turks and the Persians at different periods +held the nominal sovereignty of the country, but, so far as the +mountaineers were concerned, it was only nominal. Army after army was sent +against them, only to return broken and defeated, until at last among the +Persians it passed into a proverb, "If the shah becomes too proud, let him +make war on the mountaineers of the Caucasus." In 1801 these hitherto +unconquered highlanders came into conflict with the resistless power of +Russia, and after a desperate struggle of fifty-eight years they were +finally subdued and the Caucasus became a Russian province. + +At the present time the mountaineers as a class, from the Circassians of +the Black Sea coast to the Lesghians of the Caspian, may be roughly +described as a fierce, hardy, liberty-loving people, whose component +members have descended from ancestors of widely different origin, and are +separable into tribes or clans of very different outward appearance, but +nevertheless alike in all the characteristics which grow out of and depend +upon topographical environment. They number altogether about a million and +a half, and are settled in little isolated stone villages throughout the +whole extent of the range from the Black Sea to the Caspian at heights +varying from three to nine thousand feet. They maintain themselves chiefly +by pasturing sheep upon the mountains and cultivating a little wheat, +millet and Indian corn in the valleys; and before the Russian conquest +they were in the habit of eking out this scanty subsistence from time to +time by plundering raids into the rich neighboring lowlands of Kakhetia +and Georgia. In religion they are nearly all Mohammedans, the Arabs having +overrun the country and introduced the faith of Islam as early as the +eighth century. In the more remote and inaccessible parts of the Eastern +Caucasus there still remain a few isolated _aouls_ ("villages") of +idolaters; in Daghestan there are four or five thousand Jews, who, +although they have lost their language and their national character, still +cling to their religion; and among the high peaks of Toochetia is settled +a tribe of Christians said to be the descendants of a band of mediaeval +crusaders. But these are exceptions: ninety-nine one-hundredths of the +mountaineers are Mohammedans of the fiercest, most intolerant type. + +The languages and dialects spoken by the different tribes of this +heterogeneous population are more than thirty in number, two-thirds of +them being in the eastern end of the range, where the ethnological +diversity of the people is most marked. So circumscribed and clearly +defined are the limits of many of these languages that in some parts of +the Eastern Caucasus it is possible to ride through three or four +widely-different linguistic areas in a single day. Languages spoken by +only twelve or fifteen settlements are comparatively common; and in +South-western Daghestan there is an isolated village of less than fifty +houses--the aoul of Innookh--which has a dialect of its own not spoken or +understood, so far as has yet been ascertained, by any other portion of +the whole Caucasian population. None of these mountain-languages have ever +been written, but the early introduction of the Arabic supplied to a great +extent this deficiency. Almost every settlement has its _mullah_ or +_kadi_, whose religious or judicial duties make it necessary for him to +know how to read and write the language of the Koran, and when called upon +to do so he acts for his fellow-townsmen in the capacity of amanuensis or +scribe. Since 1860 the eminent Russian philologist General Usler has +invented alphabets and compiled grammars for six of the principal +Caucasian languages, and the latter are now taught in all the government +schools established under the auspices of the Russian mountain +administration at Vladi Kavkaz, Timour Khan, Shoura and Groznoi. + +In government the Caucasian highlanders acknowledged previous to the +Russian conquest no general head, each separate tribe or community having +developed for itself such system of polity as was most in accordance with +the needs and temperament of its component members. These systems were of +almost all conceivable kinds, from the absolute hereditary monarchies of +the Arab khans to the free communities or simple republics of Southern +Daghestan. In the former the ruler could take the life of a subject with +impunity to gratify a mere caprice, while in the latter a subject who +considered himself aggrieved by a decision of the ruler could appeal to +the general assembly, which had power to annul the decree and even to +change the chief magistrate. Since the Russian conquest the mountaineers +have altered to some extent both their forms of government and their mode +of life. Blood-revenge and plundering raids into the valley of Georgia +have nearly ceased; tribal rulers in most parts of the mountains have +given place to Russian _ispravniks_; and the rude and archaic systems of +customary law which prevailed everywhere previous to 1860 are being slowly +supplanted by the less summary but juster processes of European +jurisprudence. Such, in rapid and general outline, are the past history +and the present condition of the Caucasian mountaineers. + +Of course, the life, customs and social organization of a people who +originated in the peculiar way which I have described, and who have lived +for centuries in almost complete isolation from all the rest of the world, +must present many strange and archaic features. In the secluded valleys of +the Eastern Caucasus the modern traveller may study a state of society +which existed in England before the Norman Conquest, and see in full +operation customs and legal observances which have been obsolete +everywhere else in Europe for a thousand years. But it is to the +literature of these people rather than to their life or their customs that +I wish now particularly to call attention. I have said that they are +remarkable for originality and innate intellectual capacity, and I shall +endeavor to make good my assertion by presenting some specimens of their +songs, fables, riddles, proverbs, burlesques and popular tales. Living as +they do on the boundary-line between Europe and Asia, made up as they are +of many diverse races, Aryan, Turanian and Semitic, they inherit all the +traditionary lore of two continents, and hand down from generation to +generation the fanciful tales of the East mingled with the humorous +stories, the witty anecdotes and the practical proverbs of the West. You +may hear to-day in almost any Caucasian aoul didactic fables from the +Sanscrit of the _Hitopadesa_, anecdotes from the _Gulistan_ of the Persian +poet Saadi, old jokes from the Grecian jest-book of Hierocles, and +humorous exaggerations which you would feel certain must have originated +west of the Mississippi River. I heard one night in a lonely +mountain-village in the Eastern Caucasus from the lips of a Daghestan +mountaineer a humorous story which had been told me less than a year +before by a student of the Western Reserve College at Hudson, Ohio, and +which I had supposed to be an invention of the mirth-loving sophomores of +that institution. + +But the literature which the Caucasian mountaineers have inherited, and +which they share with all the Semitic and Indo-European races, is not so +deserving of notice as the literature which they have themselves +invented--the stories, songs, anecdotes and burlesques which bear the +peculiar impress of their own character. I shall endeavor, therefore, in +giving specimens of Caucasian folk-lore, to confine myself to stories, +songs and proverbs which are peculiar to the mountaineers themselves, or +which have been worked over and modified to accord with Caucasian tastes +and standards. It will be seen that I use the word "literature" in the +widest possible sense, to include not only what is commonly called +folk-lore, but also oaths, greetings, speeches, prayers and all other +forms of mental expression which in anyway illustrate character. + +The translations which I shall give have all been made from the original +tongues through the Russian. Although I visited the Caucasus in 1870, and +rode hundreds of miles on horseback through its wild gloomy ravines, +familiarizing myself with the life and customs of its people, I did not +acquire any of the mountain-languages so that I could translate from them +directly; neither did I personally collect the proverbs, stories and songs +which I here present. I am indebted for most of them to General Usler, to +Prince Djordjadze--with whom I crossed Daghestan--and to the Russian +mountain administration at Tiflis. All that I have done is to translate +them from the Russian, and set them in order, with such comments and +explanatory notes as they seem to require and as my Caucasian experience +enables me to furnish. + +I will begin with Caucasian greetings and curses. The etiquette of +salutation in the Caucasus is extremely elaborate and ceremonious. It does +not by any means satisfy all the requirements of perfect courtesy to ask a +mountaineer how he is, or how his health is, or how he does. You must +inquire minutely into the details of his domestic economy, manifest the +liveliest interest in the growth of his crops and the welfare of his +sheep, and even express a cordial hope that his house is in a good state +of repair and his horses and cattle properly protected from any possible +inclemency of weather. Furthermore, you must always adapt your greeting to +time, place and circumstances, and be prepared to improvise a new, +graceful and appropriate salutation to meet any extraordinary exigence. In +the morning a mountaineer greets another with "May your morning be +bright!" to which the prompt rejoinder is, "And may a sunny day never pass +you by!" A guest he welcomes with "May your coming bring joy!" and the +guest replies, "May a blessing rest on your house!" To one about to +travel the appropriate greeting is, "May God make straight your road!" to +one returning from a journey, "May health and strength come back with +rest!" to a newly-married couple, "May you have sons like the father and +daughters like the mother!" and to one who has lost a friend, "May God +give you what he did not live to enjoy!" Among other salutations in +frequent use are, "May God make you glad!" "May your sheep be multiplied!" +"May you blossom like a garden!" "May your hearth-fire never be put out!" +and "May God give you the good that you expect not!" + +The curses of the Caucasus are as bitter and vindictive as its greetings +are courteous and kind-hearted. I have often heard it said by the Persians +and Tatars who live along the Lower Volga that there is no language to +swear in like the Russian; and I must admit that they illustrated and +proved their assertion when occasion offered in the most fluent and +incontrovertible manner; but I am convinced, after having heard the curses +of experts in all parts of the East, that for variety, ingenuity and force +the profanity of the Caucasian mountaineers is unsurpassed. They are by no +means satisfied with damning their adversary's soul after the vulgar +manner of the Anglo-Saxon, but invoke the direst calamities upon his body +also; as, for example, "May the flesh be stripped from your face!" "May +your heart take fire!" "May eagles drink your eyes!" "May your name be +written on a stone!" (_i.e._ a tombstone); "May the shadow of an owl fall +on your house!" (this, owing probably to the rarity of its occurrence, is +regarded as a fatal omen); "May your hearth-fire be put out!" "May you be +struck with a hot bullet!" "May your mother's milk come with shame!" "May +you be laid on a ladder!" (alluding to the Caucasian custom of using a +ladder as a bier); "May a black day come upon your house!" "May the earth +swallow you!" "May you stand before God with a blackened face!" "Break +through into hell!" (_i.e._ through the bridge of Al Sirat); "May you be +drowned in blood!" Besides these curses, all of which are uttered in +anger, the mountaineers have a number of milder imprecatory expressions +which they use merely to give additional force or emphasis to a statement. +A man, for instance, will exclaim to another, "Oh, may your mother die! +what a superb horse you have there!" or, "May I eat all your diseases if I +didn't pay twenty-five _abaz_ for that _kinjal_ ("dagger") in Tiflis!" The +curious expression, "May your mother die!" however malevolent it may sound +to Occidental ears, has in the Caucasus no offensive significance. It is a +mere rhetorical exclamation-point to express astonishment or to fortify a +dubious statement. The graphic curse, "May I eat all your diseases!" is +precisely analogous to the American boy's "I hope to die." Generally +speaking, the mountaineers use angry imprecations and personal abuse of +all kinds sparingly. Instead of standing and cursing one another like +enraged Billingsgate fish-women, they promptly cut the Gordian knot of +their misunderstanding with their long, double-edged daggers, and +presently one of them is carried away on a ladder. When, as a Caucasian +proverb asserts, "It is only a step from the bad word to the kinjal," even +an angry man is apt to think twice before he curses once. + +It is difficult to select from the proverbs of the Caucasian mountaineers, +numerous as they are, any which are certainly and peculiarly their own. +They inherit the proverbial philosophy of all the Aryan and Semitic races, +and for the most part merely repeat with slight variations the well-worn +saws of the English, the Germans, the Russians, the Arabs and the French. +I will give, however, a few specimens which I have not been able to find +in modern collections, and which are probably of native invention. It will +be noticed that they are all more remarkable for force and for a peculiar +grim, sardonic humor than for delicacy of wit or grace of expression. +Instead of neatly running a subject through with the keen flashing rapier +of a witty analogy, as a Spaniard would do, the Caucasian mountaineer +roughly knocks it down with the first proverbial club which comes to +hand; and the knottier and more crooked the weapon the better pleased he +seems to be with the result. Whether the work in hand be the smiting of a +rock or the crushing of a butterfly, he swings high overhead the Hammer of +Thor. Compare, for example, the French and the Caucasian methods of +expressing the fact that the consequences of bad advice fall on the +advised and not on the adviser. The Frenchman is satisfied to simply state +the obvious truism that advisers are not payers, but the mountaineer, with +forcible and graphic imagery, declares that "He who instructs how to jump +does not tear his mouth, but he who jumps breaks his legs." Again: the +German has in his proverbial storehouse no more vivid illustration of the +wilfulness of luck than the saying that "A lucky man's hens lay eggs with +double yolks;" but this is altogether too common and natural a phenomenon +to satisfy the mountaineer's conception of the power of luck; so he coolly +knocks the subject flat with the audacious hyperbole, "A lucky man's horse +and mare both have colts." Fortune and misfortune present themselves to +the German mind as two buckets in a well; but to the Caucasian mountaineer +"Fortune is like a cock's tail on a windy day" (_i.e.,_ first on one side +and then on the other). The Danes assert guardedly that "He loses least in +a quarrel who controls his tongue;" but the mountaineer cries out boldly +and emphatically, "Hold your tongue and you will save your head;" and in +order that the warning may not be forgotten, he inserts it as a sort of +proverbial chorus at the end of every paragraph in his oldest code of +written law. It is not often that a proverb rises to such dignity and +importance as to become part of the legal literature of a country; and the +fact that this proverb should have been chosen from a thousand others, and +repeated twenty or thirty times in a brief code of criminal law, is very +significant of the character of the people. + +Caucasian proverbs rarely deal with verbal abstractions, personified +virtues or vague intellectual generalizations. They present their ideas in +hard, sharp-edged crystals rather than in weak verbal solutions, and +their similes, metaphors and analogies are as distinct, clear-cut and +tangible as it is possible to make them. The German proverb, "He who +grasps too much lets much fall," would die a natural death in the Caucasus +in a week, because it defies what Tyndall calls "mental presentation:" it +is not pictorial enough; but let its spirit take on a Caucasian body, +introduce it to the world as "You can't hold two watermelons in one hand," +and it becomes immortal. Vivid imagery is perhaps the most marked +characteristic of Caucasian proverbs. Wit, wisdom and grace may all +occasionally be dispensed with, but pictorial effect, the possibility of +clear mental presentation, is a _sine qua non_. Aiming primarily at this, +the mountaineer says of an impudent man, "He has as much shame as an egg +has hair;" of a garrulous one, "He has no bone in his tongue" or "His +tongue is always wet;" of a spendthrift, "Water does not stand on a +hillside;" and of a noble family in reduced circumstances, "It is a +decayed rag, but it is silk." All these metaphors are clear, vivid and +forcible, and the list of such proverbs might be almost indefinitely +extended. With all their vividness of imagery, however, Caucasian sayings +are sometimes as mysterious and unintelligible as the darkest utterances +of the Delphian Oracle. Take, by way of illustration, the enigmatical +proverb, "He lets his hasty-pudding stand over night, hoping that it will +learn to talk." Only the rarest penetration would discover in this +seemingly absurd statement a satire upon the man who has a disagreeable +confession to make or an unpleasant message to deliver, and who puts it +off until to-morrow, hoping that the duty will then be easier of +performance. Again: what would a West European make of such a proverb as +the following: "If I had known that my father was going to die, I would +have traded him off for a cucumber"? Our English cousins, with their +characteristic adherence to facts as literally stated, would very likely +cite it as a shocking illustration of the filial irreverence and +ingratitude of Caucasian children; but an American, more accustomed to +the rough humor of grotesque statement, would see at once that it was not +to be "taken for cash," and would understand and appreciate its force when +he found its meaning to be that it is better to dispose of a perishable +article at half price than to lose it altogether--better to sell your +father for a cucumber than have him die on your hands. + +The cruel, cynical, revengeful side of the mountaineer's character finds +expression in the proverbs, "A cut-off head will never ache;" "Crush the +head, and the tail will die of itself;" "If you can't find a Lak [a member +of a generally-detested tribe], hammer the place where one sat;" "What +business has a blind man with a beautiful wife?" "The serpent never +forgets who cut off his tail, nor the father who killed his son." The +lights and shades of polygamous life appear in the sharply-contrasted +proverbs, "He who has two wives enjoys a perpetual honeymoon," and "He who +has two wives doesn't need cats and dogs;" the bad consequences of divided +responsibility are indicated by the proverb, "If there are too many +shepherds the sheep die;" and the value of a good shepherd is stated as +tersely and forcibly as it well could be in the declaration that "A good +shepherd will get cheese from a he-goat." + +Caucasian proverbs, however, are not all as rude, unpolished and grotesque +as most of those above quoted. Some of them are simple, noble and +dignified, the undistorted outcome of the higher and better traits of the +mountaineer's character. Among such are, "Dogs bark at the moon, but the +moon does not therefore fall upon the earth;" "Blind eyes are a +misfortune, but a blind heart is worse;" "He who weeps from the soul weeps +not tears, but blood;" "Generous words are often better than a generous +hand;" "A guest, a man from God;" and finally the really noble proverb, +"Heroism is patience for one moment more:" no words could better express +the steady courage, the unconquerable fortitude, the proud, silent +endurance of a true Caucasian Highlander. At all times and under all +circumstances, in pain, in peril and in the hour of death, he holds with +unshakable courage to his manhood and his purpose. Die he will, but yield +never. The desperate fifty years' struggle of the Caucasian mountaineers +with the bravest armies and ablest commanders of Russia is only a long, +blood-illuminated commentary upon this one proverb. + +In order that the reader may get a clear idea of the scope and general +character of Caucasian proverbial literature, I will give without further +comment a few selections from the current sayings of the Laks, the +Chechenses, the Abkhazians, the Koorintzes and the Avars: "Don't spit into +a well: you may have to drink out of it;" "A fish would talk if his mouth +were not full of water;" "Bread doesn't run after the belly, but the belly +after bread;" "A rich man wherever he goes finds a feast--a poor fellow, +although he goes to a feast, finds trouble;" "Stick to the old road and +your father's friends;" "Your body is pledged to pay for your sins;" +"Burial is the only medicine for the dead;" "Swift water never gets to the +sea;" "With good neighbors you can marry off even your blind daughter;" +"You can't get sugar out of every stone;" "Out of a hawk's nest comes a +hawk;" "A fat ox and a rotten shroud are good for nothing;" "There are +seven tastes as to a man's dress, but only one as to his stature" (_i.e.,_ +his own); "A good head will find itself a hat;" "At the attack of the wolf +the ass shuts his eyes;" "If you are sweet to others, they will swallow +you--if bitter, they will spit you out;" "Go where you will, lift up any +stone and you will find a Lak under it;" "He is like a hen that wants to +lay an egg, and can't;" "He who is sated cannot understand the hungry;" "A +barking dog soon grows old;" "A quiet cat eats a big lump of fat;" "If +water bars your road, be a fish--if cliffs, a mountain-goat." + +Closely allied to Caucasian proverbs in spirit and in rough, grotesque +humor are Caucasian anecdotes, of which I have space for only a few +characteristic specimens. They are almost invariably short, terse and +pithy, and would prove, even in the absence of all other evidence, that +these fierce, stern, unyielding mountaineers have the keenest possible +appreciation of humor, and that in the quick perception and hearty +enjoyment of pure absurdity they come nearer to Americans than do perhaps +any of the West European races. One of the following anecdotes, "The Big +Turnip," I have seen in American newspapers within a year, and all of them +bear a greater or less resemblance, both in spirit and form, to American +stories. I will begin with an anecdote of the mullah Nazr-Eddin, a +mythical, or at any rate an historically unknown, individual, whose +personality the mountaineers use as a sort of peg upon which to hang all +the floating jokes and absurd stories which they from time to time hear or +invent, just as Americans use the traditional Irishman to give a modern +stamp to a joke which perhaps is as old as the Pyramids. The mountaineers +originally borrowed this lay figure of Nazr-Eddin from the Turks, but they +have clothed it in an entirely new suit of blunders, witticisms and +absurdities of their own manufacture. + +_Nazr-Eddin's Greetings._--Nazr-Eddin once upon a time, while travelling, +came upon some people digging a grave. "May peace be with you!" said he as +he stopped before them, "and may the blessing of God be upon your labor!" +The gravediggers, enraged, seized shovels and picks and fell upon +Nazr-Eddin and began to beat him. "What have I done to you?" he asked in +affright: "what do you beat me for?"--"When you saw us," replied the +gravediggers, "you should have held up your arms and prayed for the +deceased."--"The instruction which you have given me I will remember," +said Nazr-Eddin, and went on his way. Presently he met a large company of +young people returning in great merriment from a wedding, dancing and +playing on drums and fifes. As he approached them he raised his hands +toward heaven and began to pray for the soul of the deceased. At this all +the young men fell upon him in great anger and gave him another awful +beating. "Can't you see," they cried, "that the prince's son has just +been married, and that this is the wedding-party? Under such +circumstances you should have put your hat under your arm and begun to +shout and dance."--"The next time I will remember," said Nazr-Eddin, and +went on. Suddenly and unexpectedly he came upon a hunter who was creeping +cautiously and silently up to a hare. Putting his hat under his arm, +Nazr-Eddin began to dance, jump and shout so furiously that of course the +hare was frightened away. The hunter, enraged at this interference, +pounded Nazr-Eddin with his gun until he could hardly walk. "What would +you have me do?" cried the mullah.--"Under such circumstances," replied +the hunter, "you should have taken off your hat and crept up cautiously, +now stooping down, now rising up."--"That I will remember," said +Nazr-Eddin, and went on. At a little distance he came upon a flock of +sheep, and, according to his last instructions, he crept cautiously up to +them, now stooping down out of sight, and then rising up, and so +frightened the sheep that they all ran away. Upon this the shepherds gave +him another tremendous beating. There was not a misfortune that did not +come upon Nazr-Eddin on account of his miserable blunders. + +_The Kettle that Died._--The mullah Nazr-Eddin once went to a neighbor to +borrow a kettle. In the course of a week he returned, bringing the large +kettle which he had borrowed, and another, a small one. "What is this?" +inquired the owner, pointing to the small kettle.--"Your kettle has given +birth," replied the mullah, "and that is its offspring." Without any +further question or explanation the owner took both kettles, and the +mullah returned to his home. In course of time the mullah again appeared, +and again borrowed his neighbor's kettle, which the latter gave him this +time with great readiness. A week passed, a month, two months, three +months, but no kettle; and at last the owner went to the mullah and asked +for it. "Your kettle is dead," said the mullah.--"Dead!" exclaimed the +owner: "do kettles die?"--"Certainly," replied the mullah. "If your kettle +could give birth, it could also die; and, what is more," he added, "it +died in giving birth." The owner, not wishing to make himself a +laughing-stock among the people, closed up the kettle business and left. + +_The Big Turnip._--Two men were once walking together and talking. One +said, "My father raised such an enormous turnip once that he used the top +of it to thresh wheat upon, and when it was ripe had to dig it out of the +ground."--"My father," said the other, "ordered such an enormous kettle +made once that the forty workmen who made it all had room to sit on the +inside and work at the same time; and they were a year in finishing +it."--"Yes," said the first, "but what did your father want such a big +kettle for?"--"Probably to boil your father's turnip in," was the reply. + +_Nazr-Eddin's One-Legged Goose._--The mullah Nazr-Eddin was once carrying +to the khan as a gift a roasted goose. Becoming hungry on the road, he +pulled off one of the goose's legs and ate it. "Where is the other leg?" +inquired the khan when the goose was presented.--"Our geese have only one +leg," answered the mullah.--"How so?" demanded the khan.--"If you don't +believe it, look there," said the mullah, pointing to a flock of geese +which had just come out of the water, and were all standing on one leg. +The khan threw a stick at them and they all ran away. "There!" exclaimed +the khan, "they all have two legs."--"That's not surprising," said the +mullah: "if somebody should throw such a club as that at you, you might +get four legs." The khan gave the mullah a new coat and sent him home. + +_Why Blind Men should Carry Lanterns at Night._--A blind man in Khoota (an +East Caucasian village) came back from the river one night bringing a +pitcher of water and carrying in one hand a lighted lantern. Some one, +meeting him, said, "You're blind: it's all the same to you whether it's +day or night. Of what use to you is a lantern?"--"I don't carry the +lantern in order to see the road," replied the blind man, "but to keep +some fool like you from running against me and breaking my pitcher." + +_The Woman who was Afraid of being Kissed._--A man was once walking along +one road and a woman along another. The roads finally united, and the man +and woman, reaching the junction at the same time, walked on from there +together. The man was carrying a large iron kettle on his back; in one +hand he held by the legs a live chicken, in the other a cane; and he was +leading a goat. Just as they were coming to a deep dark ravine, the woman +said to the man, "I am afraid to go through that ravine with you: it is a +lonely place, and you might overpower me and kiss me by force."--"If you +were afraid of that," said the man, "you shouldn't have walked with me at +all: how can I possibly overpower you and kiss you by force when I have +this great iron kettle on my back, a cane in one hand and a live chicken +in the other, and am leading this goat? I might as well be tied hand and +foot."--"Yes," replied the woman, "but if you should stick your cane into +the ground and tie the goat to it, and turn the kettle bottom side up, and +put the chicken under it, _then_ you might wickedly kiss me in spite of my +resistance."--"Success to thy ingenuity, O woman!" said the rejoicing man +to himself: "I should never have thought of such expedients." And when +they came to the ravine he stuck his cane into the ground and tied the +goat to it, gave the chicken to the woman, saying, "Hold it while I cut +some grass for the goat," and then, lowering the kettle from his +shoulders, imprisoned the fowl under it, and wickedly kissed the woman, as +she was afraid he would. + +It would be easy to multiply illustrations of Caucasian wit and humor, but +the above anecdotes are fairly representative, and must suffice. I will +close this paper with two specimens of mountain satire--"The Stingy +Mullah" and "An Eye for an Eye." + +_The Stingy Mullah._--The mullah of a certain village, who was noted for +his avarice and stinginess, happened one day in crossing a narrow bridge +to fall into the river. As he could not swim, he sank for a moment out of +sight, and then coming to the surface floated down the stream, struggling +and yelling for help. A passer-by ran to the bank, and stretching out his +arm shouted to the mullah, "Give me your hand! give me your hand!" but the +mullah thrust both hands as far as possible under water and continued to +yell. Another man, who knew the mullah better, ran to the bank lower down +and leaning over the water cried to him, "Here! take my hand! take my +hand!" And the mullah, grasping it eagerly, was drawn out of the river. He +was always ready to _take_, but would not _give_ even so much as his hand +to save his life. + +The following clever bit of satire was probably invented by an inhabitant +of one of the Arab khanates as a means of getting even with a ruler who +had wronged him by an absurdly unjust decision. The khans of the Eastern +Caucasus previous to the Russian conquest had almost unlimited power over +the lives and persons of their subjects, and their decrees, however +unreasonable and unfair they might be, were enforced without appeal and +with inexorable severity. A mountaineer therefore in Avaria or Koomookha +who considered himself aggrieved by a decision of his khan, and who dared +not complain openly, could relieve his outraged feelings only by inventing +and setting afloat an anonymous pasquinade. Some of these short personal +satires are very clever pieces of literary vengeance. + +_An Eye for an Eye._--A robber one night broke into the house of a poor +Lesghian in search of plunder. While groping around in the dark he +accidentally put out one of his eyes by running against a nail which the +Lesghian had driven into the wall to hang clothes upon. On the following +morning the robber went to the khan and complained that this Lesghian had +driven a nail into the wall of his house in such a manner as to put out +one of his (the robber's) eyes, and for this injury he demanded redress. +The khan sent for the Lesghian and inquired why he had driven this nail, +and if he had not done it on purpose to put out the robber's eye. The +Lesghian explained that he needed the nail to hang clothes upon, and that +he had driven it into the wall for that purpose and no other. The khan, +however, declared that the law demanded an eye for an eye; and since he +had been instrumental in putting out the robber's eye, it would be +necessary to put out one of his eyes to satisfy the claims of justice. +"Your Excellency," replied the poor Lesghian, "I am a tailor. I need both +my eyes in order to carry on my business and obtain the necessaries of +life; but I know a man who is a gunsmith: he uses only one eye to squint +along his gun-barrels, so that the other is of no particular service to +him. Be so just, O khan! as to order one of his eyes to be put out and +spare mine." The khan said, "Very well," and, sending for the gunsmith, +explained to him the situation of affairs. "I also need both eyes," +objected the gunsmith, "because I have to look on both sides of a +gun-barrel in order to tell whether it is straight or not; but near me +there lives a man who is a musician. When he plays on the _zoorna_ [a +Caucasian fife] he shuts both eyes; so his trade won't suffer even if he +lose his eyesight entirely. Be so just, O khan! as to order one of his +eyes to be put out and spare mine." To this the khan also agreed, and sent +for the musician. The fifer admitted that he shut both eyes when he played +his fife; whereupon the khan ordered one of them to be put out, and +declared that he only left him the other as a proof of the great mercy, +justice and forbearance of khans. + +This little bit of burlesque, short as it is, is full of delicate +satirical touches. The prompt attention given to the complaint of the +robber, who of course has no rights whatever in the premises; the +readiness of the khan to infer malice on the part of the plundered +Lesghian; his unique conception of the _lex talionis_ as a law which may +be satisfied with anybody's eye; the cool assumption that because the +unfortunate fifer occasionally _shuts_ both eyes he ought in strict +justice to _lose_ both eyes, and should be duly grateful to the merciful +khan for permitting him to keep one of them,--are all the fine and skilful +touches of a bright wit and a humorous fancy. + +GEORGE KENNAN. + + + + +OF BARBARA HICKS. + +I. + + +When I looked under her bonnet I perceived a face that was more to my mind +than any face I had ever before seen. Perhaps it was wrong for me to think +so much about a face; but it was borne in upon me that such a well-favored +countenance must of necessity come from a still more well-favored manner +of life; for a face, to me, is only the reflex of the inner workings of +Life, and to this day I doubt if I could sit down and describe fully the +shape or moulding of any one particular feature of that face, for it was +not the _face_, but the expression that formed it, that inclined me toward +it. I was a stranger in the place, and but newly come, and my name had +forerun me in kindly writings from many friends, so that I may often have +been mentioned in households where I had never been seen. But I went to +Barbara Hicks's father, and informed him how considerably my mind inclined +me toward his daughter, and that I would, if he permitted me, ask to be +better known unto her. "Thee is over young to think of marriage, friend +Biddle," said he. + +I felt a burning sensation mounting to my face, and I could only say in +reply, "Verily. But the heart of youth is lonely--more so than the heart +of age, and it looks upon all Nature for companionship." + +"Thy mingling with the world's people has made thee glib of tongue," said +he, eyeing me, and smiling as much as was seemly. + +"But I am not of the world's people, if thee means the flaunters of +various colors and loud-voiced nothings. And I do not think of +marriage--nay, will not--until thy daughter has taken me into full +acquaintanceship and approbation. Thee knows I am not advanced in the +world's wealth, and that I am but a beginner in manhood; thee knows that I +came here and set up as a lumberman; thee may or may not care to have thy +daughter to know me." + +"I care as much as beseems any father to bethink him of his child's +welfare. Come with me, Samuel Biddle." + +So he fetched me into the sizable sunny kitchen where Barbara was +preparing vegetables for the dinner. + +"This is friend Samuel Biddle," said he. + +"I am pleased to see thee," said she, "and if thee waits until I dry my +fingers I will shake hands with thee." + +Youth is ever impetuous. In my haste or foolish confusion I took her hand +as it was, and had the mortified pride of seeing a long potato-paring +hanging about my thumb when she had resumed her occupation. + +"Thee is overly quick," said her father, rather displeased, I thought. + +"Thee must pardon me: it is a habit I have." + +"Habits are bad things to have." + +"Thank thee," I said. + +I know that unnecessary words are wholly unlooked for amongst us Friends, +and that description of any part of the Lord's works is as unnecessary and +carries with it as little of what we mean as can be. Incidents are greater +than description, as the telling to me how a tree looked when it was in +full foliage is not near so incisive as that the tree fell with a great +crash during a storm in the night. Therefore it would be using needless +language, which a Friend's discipline enjoins him to beware of, for me to +say how friend Hicks's daughter might have seemed to those to whom I +wished to impart how she seemed to me; rather let some various incidents +provide their estimate of her. That one of the world's people might say +she was pleasant to look upon I have no doubt; but to me she was not +beautiful: she was only what I would have had her to be; and that which is +entirely as we would have it to be is never beautiful: it is too near us +to be that. I cared well to be with her while her father bided near and +talked to me of the community I had left, and which had given me my +certificate to friend Hicks's Meeting. And yet I fear me that I made +several dubious replies to his many trite questions as we sat on the porch +in the quiet of the evening, for friend Barbara's eyes were upon me, and +she had a little dint in either cheek which affected me amazingly. (I have +heard such dints called dimples--by whom, I cannot say.) She had a most +extraordinary way of miscomprehending all that I said, and frequently +appealing to her father; so I perforce must repeat all that I had before +said, which often forced me into much confusion of words, which seemed to +make her dints more deep than usual. Then the quiet of her home after a +busy day of traffic and bargaining and buying and selling was infinitely +composing to my mind. There were trees all about the house, and some +orderly flowers--more of the herb species, I think, than the decorative. +There were faint sounds coming from distant places, and when a great many +stars were come and the wind waved the branches of the trees, the stars +looked, as one might say, like tiny musical lamps set among the leaves, +they seemed so many and so bright there, and the distant sounds so +pleasant. I am not, as a usual thing, a noticing man, but while friend +Hicks's daughter was within a few feet of me it seemed I noticed +everything with considerable acuteness. I think this may be accounted for +on the score that I was trying to notice something which failed me as I +searched for it; and that was, if I were to Barbara what Barbara was to +me. She was too friendly, and yet I would have her friendly: she was too +cheerful, and yet I would have her cheerful. I bethink me that I would +rather that her friendliness and cheerfulness might in a measure depend +upon me for existence. I think I came too often to friend Hicks's house, +although he understood me. + +"Thee is a most persistent young man," he said to me. + +"Does thee think too much so?" I asked. + +"Nay, friend Biddle: persistency is an excellent quality which is most +praiseworthy in youth." + +"And does thee think that persistency will gain me a wife?" + +"Thee had better depend upon thyself more than upon persistency in such an +issue," he said, with the corners of his mouth much depressed. + +"Does thee think I might venture to offer myself to thy daughter for a +husband?" + +"Nay. A husband never offers himself to his wife: the gift should be so +valuable that she would willingly exchange herself for it." + +"Will thy daughter think so?" + +"Undoubtedly." + +"May I be emboldened to ask her?" + +"Thy mind must tell thee better than my lips," he said. + +Then I watched him going down among the trees and the shadows, and I sat, +much perturbed in spirit, waiting for Barbara. When she did come I had not +one word to say. I only remember that I sat with one leg crossed over the +other, and wished I could perchance cross the right one over the left +instead of the left over the right, and yet I had not the power to do so. +I was sure my brain was playing me false, for things seemed utterly at +variance with possibilities. + +"Thee seems shaken, friend Biddle," said she. + +"Nay," I responded. + +"Thee certainly is. I trust thy business is prospering, and that thy mind +is not set too much upon any one thing." + +"Nay." + +"Can I do anything for thee?" + +"Nay." + +So I could not say one word. Friend Barbara took up her knitting, and I +saw that she was rounding the heel of a stocking; and I trust I am +truthful, if volatile, when I remember me that I wished I were her +knitting-needle. She was very quiet: her ball of yarn slipped away, +lacking proper gravitation. "My!" said she, and went and fetched it. + +"Has thee ill news from thy people?" she asked, rather restive under my +changelessness. + +"They are happily easy," said I. + +Then she was quiet. + +I bethought me that I had my hat in my hand, and would rise to put it upon +my head and say farewell, but I could not. + +"Thee does not seem so comfortable as thee might be," said she. + +"I am comfortable," I said. + +Then her yarn rolled away again. Again she said, "My!" and fetched it. + +"Is thee waiting for father?" she asked. + +"Nay," said I. + +I think she grew more restive under the silence: I arose. "Farewell," said +I. + +"Farewell," said she; and the dints in her cheeks were extreme: they were +the only dints about her, everything else being so prim and gray and +well-ordered, while these were--quite different. + +Her father came in just then. I went boldly to him. "Friend Hicks," I said +very loud, "will thee ask thy daughter to marry me?" + +"Can thee not ask?" + +"Nay: I have tried, but I fail. I never asked such a thing before, and, +belike, thee has." + +"Necessarily," said he. + +Then he asked Barbara. "Does thee quite approve friend Biddle?" asked she. + +"Necessarily," he answered as before. + +"Then, Samuel Biddle, I will be thy wife," said she. + +"Thank thee, friend Barbara," I said, and shook hands with her father. + +"Thee may shake hands with Barbara," said he. + +And I did. I fear me that she looked with a less demure look into my face +as I did so: I think she might have cared to have me hold her hand a +little longer than I did. + +But her father said, "Thee has attended to _thy_ business: now bear me out +in _mine_. What is thy income? when can I see thy father and mother?" + +It was most gratifying on next First Day to go to meeting and sit beside +friend Hicks. Far over on the women's side I think I knew which woman was +Barbara. And meeting was stiller than ever, and more like the Lord's +meaning of holiness; or it was the stillness upon my spirit that needed no +divine Feet to tread it down and say, "Peace, be still!" I had reached the +peace beyond understanding saving to those who likewise possess it: +something that was greater to me than myself had come to me and called +itself all my own. There was a most able discourse from friend Broomall +that day, but I heard so little of it I have scarce the right to criticise +some of his comments. The windows were all open, and the sound of the +breeze that flapped the casement and the far-away lowing of a cow were +very pleasant--indeed, almost grievingly pleasant. And butterflies came in +and out, and were bright and soothing. Friend Hicks was soothed and slept +profoundly all the while: he awoke and said that friend Broomall had been +most cogent in his reasoning. I, who had heard so little, said, "Verily." + +After meeting, Barbara walked home, and I walked with her. I doubt if I +ever cared for flowers and blue skies and little singing birds as I did on +that placid First Day--my own First Day! + +"Thee was most attentive during meeting, Samuel Biddle," said she. + +"Thank thee. So was thee," said I. + +"How does thee know?" + +"I fear I watched thee." + +"Thee might have been better employed." + +"How did thee know that _I_ was attentive?" + +"Like thee, I think I watched thee." + +"Thank thee, Barbara Hicks." + +"The same to thee, Samuel Biddle." + +I think all this made me most kindly disposed toward the whole world. We +reached home shortly, and Barbara poured tea for me during dinner-time, +and made it very sweet--sweeter than I had ever accustomed myself to take +tea, though I deemed it more than admirable. After dinner friend Hicks +said the flies were troublous that time of the day. We were on the porch, +friend Hicks, his daughter and myself. I suggested that he might be less +troubled did he cover his face with his handkerchief. + +"Thee is thoughtful," said he, and did so with an odd look in his face; +and I saw that he had left a small corner of the handkerchief turned over, +so that his left eye was not out of view. Barbara was in a chair next to +mine, only considerably removed, and her father was on the other side of +me. We were very quiet, and Barbara said it was a most likely day. I said +yes--that I never remembered such another day. I heard friend Hicks give +infallible tokens of sleep; I knew the flies troubled him considerably; so +I thought it well to reach over and turn the corner of his handkerchief +over his exposed eye. Then I placed my chair closer to Barbara's. + +Everybody knew we should marry each other from that First Day when I had +sat with friend Hicks and walked home with Barbara afterward. Friend +Broomall welcomed me to the Monthly Meeting with many cordial expressions, +and spoke conciliatingly of the marriage state. It was most pleasant to me +when I walked betimes to see friend Barbara, and mayhap conversed during +the entire evening with her father about the lumber business or the +tariff, or some such subject: at such times I think my mind was not within +my speech, and that as often as modesty permitted I would look toward +Barbara. I am fully cognizant that I often tried to change the current of +argument by sometimes turning and saying, "Is it not the opinion of thee, +friend Barbara?" at some trite words from her father. "Thee knows a woman +understands so little of these various themes," she would say; and I would +grow restive. Yet friend Hicks grew more well-disposed toward me, and +cared to talk much of himself to me; which always shows that a man thinks +well of thee. I bethink me that if Barbara's mother had lived some things +might have been different, and that perchance she might have claimed her +husband's attention away from me a little, and monopolized an hour or so +of his time each evening: women have a species of inner seeing which most +men lack to a great degree. And yet, to show my fuller confidence in +friend Hicks, I said to him once, "I wish thee to take charge of all my +savings and earnings. Thee knows I shall be a married man some time, and +till then I would much desire thee to care for these moneys." + +"Can thee not take proper charge of what thee has collected?" + +"Yea. But my wife's father should understand the state of my finances." + +"Set not thy mind too much upon riches, Samuel Biddle." + +"Is thy daughter not worth any mere worldly riches I could accumulate?" + +"Favor is deceitful, and a woman should never put ill thoughts into a +man." + +"Did thee not hope for money as I do when thee was young and knew the +woman who would be thy wife?" + +"Samuel Biddle, I will do this for thee, as thee asks. Thee has grown upon +me much of late, and even as I once hoped, so it is meet that thee should +hope." + +So I gave my savings and earnings into his keeping; and when I had gone +away to the lumber-regions I sent the money just the same. + +"I thank thee for trusting father so much," said Barbara when we met after +this, and quite smiled in my face. + +"Thy father trusts me beyond my trust in him in letting thee into my +keeping," I said. + +"My!" said she. And we stood together for some little time, looking at +nothing in particular. And yet it was borne in upon me that friend Barbara +rarely thought of me when I was not present with her. I doubt much that +this should have given annoyance, for why should we pry into another's +thoughts? And yet it rankled in my bosom, and I could but feel that I knew +the truth. I should have liked her to think much of me, in sooth: I should +have liked her to think of me while she knitted the stockings in the +bright leafy porch or walked among her garden-herbs, or when she was busy +over her household cares. It was the vain-glorious feeling of youth which +prompted this doubt in me, but in youth vain-glory is what wisdom is in +age. + +I bethink me that I have said "friend Barbara" at some parts of this +narration, at others simply "Barbara." I may do so again and yet again. It +is and will be just as she appeared to me at the times whereof I set it +down. + +About this time--say three months after the First Day whereof I have +spoken--a very advantageous business-offer reached me from the +lumber-regions: I was to go there for a matter of six months, and I +should, perchance, be well remunerated for the going. I turned this matter +well over in my mind before I let it slip into another mind, and when I +deemed that I was resolute in forming and retaining my own set opinion I +imparted the knowledge to friend Hicks. + +"Thee will assuredly go?" said he. + +"Verily," I replied, and looked at Barbara, and saw that she knitted just +as actively and deftly as usual. This did not please me quite, for I +should have liked to see her pause and look up with much interest +manifested. But nay: she was ever the same. I could not guard my vain +tongue as I should have done; so, forgetting even her father's presence, I +said, "Friend Barbara, is thee sorry to see me go?" + +"Thee knows what is best for thee to do," said she. + +"But is thee sorry?" + +"I am not sorry." + +"Perhaps thy mind is not inclined to me as much as I had hoped?" I said +with considerable hot-headedness. + +"Thee is to me what thee has ever been--neither more nor less." + +"Barbara!" said her father with a high-raised voice. + +She started up before him, her face very much increased in color, and she +folded her arms above her kerchief. "Father," she said, "if thee thinks I +am old enough to marry, _I_ think I am old enough to form an opinion of my +own. Had I been in Samuel Biddle's place, and an offer of change of +residence had been proffered to me, I should first have gone to the woman +who was to be my wife and told her the bearings of the case, and let her +tell her father: I should never have gone to her father first." + +She would have gone from the room, but her father called her back and bade +her resume her sewing; which she did, though I saw her neckerchief rise +and fall as though her heart were unusually perturbed beneath it. + +"Is thee grown perverse?" said her father angrily. + +"Nay," she answered. "I am my father's daughter: my will is my own." + +"This to me?" he said. + +"Friend Hicks," said I, in much pain, "I pray thee let me go: I have +unwittingly caused this. It has been because I set my mind so wilfully +upon thy daughter that I forgot all else but her, and had not the courage +to say to her what I did to thee." + +He spoke long and earnestly to me then, and when we looked around Barbara +had quietly quitted the room. + +But as I went sore of spirit down the lane on my way home she suddenly +faced me. There were marks upon her face as of the stains of drops of +water, and her eyes, I perceived, were heavy and swollen. "Will thee +forgive me, Samuel Biddle?" said she. + +"I should ask that of thee," I replied. + +"Thee knows I was headstrong," she said, taking my sleeve in her hand. + +"Not more so than I, for I made up my mind to marry thee, and, I fear me, +thought more of myself than of thee." She looked with compassion, I +thought, upon me. + +"I would be thy wife, no matter what comes," said she. + +"Feeling for me all that a wife should feel for her husband?" + +"Yea." + +Then I stood by Barbara while she wiped her eyes upon my sleeve. + +For a day or so I felt constrained at friend Hicks's house, but when I saw +his daughter the same as usual, kind and considerate--perhaps more +considerate than usual to me--I bethought me that perchance a Friend is at +times a trifle too circumspect in his words, a trifle too circumscribed in +his actions. He must be seemly in his carriage and speech, must not allow +unbecoming emotion to prey upon him, must build the body from the spirit, +and not the spirit from the body. I had tried to do all these, and yet +there were times when sensation overpowered calculation, and it would have +afforded me peace to have held friend Barbara within my arms and said many +foolish and irrelevant words, and heard such words from her. Sometimes it +seems to me that three feet apart, two feet, one, two inches, one, is too +much from one who is exceedingly much to us: the mere touch of hand to +hand, unmeaning as such a thing is, may be infinitely more than a mere +gratification of sense. Still, I would not have it understood that I am a +militant spirit, fond of what stubborn folk term "progression," nor would +I throw aside any of the rules which have been mine and those of many +generations of ancestors who followed George Fox and knew his intents to +be pure withal. + +But I was to go away East now, and my preparations were completed. + +"I hope thee will bear in mind that I shall often think of thee, friend +Barbara," I said on the last evening I should see her for a long time. + +The dints in her face looked very comely as she answered, "I shall, friend +Biddle." + +"And thee will think of me?" + +"I always do," she said. And yet this was not what I had much desired, +although I must perforce be contented. I knew, though, that distance would +only make her closer to me in spirit, and that I should be kinder to all +women for her sake--that I should pity all helplessness for her sake; for +where the mind inclineth most favorably, where gentleness and sweetness +for another is borne in upon us, we invariably associate that other with a +sort of tender helplessness which can only be made into perfect strength +by ourselves. And then I had grown to have a species of fear for Barbara: +it was as though she were greater than I, although I could reason down +this foolish ebullition in the calm knowledge that the Lord made all +beings equal. Mayhaps, had I been assured in my mind that she should not +only think of me from necessity, arising out of our long companionship +and near relation, but that she should _care_ well to call to mind my +absent form and features and voice and presence, and her own want of me, I +should have left friend Hicks's house with lithesome spirit and much +happiness. However, I thought, my being away for six months might cause +her to miss me; and we never miss what is not of great account to us. + +"May I write letters to thee, Barbara?" I asked. + +"Thee must gain father's consent," she said. + +So I asked friend Hicks--only I asked it in this way: "May Barbara write +letters to me?" + +"_I_ will write thee all that is necessary, as thee will write me: what +more is needful?" answered friend Hicks. + +So, as I went away, and it was Seventh Day, and the world seemed expecting +the morrow, when the world's peace should be personified in public praise +and a cessation from labor and earthly thought, I stood in the shadow and +took friend Hicks's hand. + +"I trust thee may be successful," said he. + +"I think any man may be successful in this world's affairs," I said. + +"There is such a thing as suffering and pain which the Lord sends." + +"Nay, friend Hicks," I said, "I am lately thinking that peradventure the +Lord sends not pain to our earthly bodies, or else that pain would be a +trial and a punishment; whereas I may look around and see dumb animals and +little singing birds die of suffering and pain; and surely the Lord +inflicts no punishment on things he cannot be displeased with. Suffering +and pain are the worms of the earth, the penalties of earthly life, which +has more of the world in it than heaven." + +"I trust thee will not be arbitrary in time, friend Biddle," said he, +almost displeased. + +But Barbara placed her hand in mine. "Samuel Biddle," said she, "may a +man's suffering and pain be a _woman_ sometimes?" + +"Belike," I answered, and could say no more. + +"Then I say I trust thee shall be free from grievousness all thy life if I +can keep thee so." + +"Thee can," I said. + +"I will," she said. + +"Farewell, Barbara." + +"Fare thee well, friend Biddle." + +I almost stumbled over a man as I hurried out by the gate. "I beg thy +pardon, friend," I said. + +"I beg yours, sir," he answered. I looked, and saw that he was a hireling +minister with a white cloth at his neck and an unhappily-cut coat. And he +raised his hand to his hat and said, "I am but new in this neighborhood: I +am the pastor of the church newly erected here." + +"Peace be unto thee, man of the Lord!" I said. + +"And to you, my friend!" he answered. + +And I had but time to reach the station and take my place in the car that +whirled me away from where my mind was so constantly set. + + +II. + +It was but natural and wholly consistent that I should choose an +unassuming and grave lodging-house on my arrival at the place of my +destination; for, apart from my predilection of religious tenets, quietude +is closely allied to much thought; and while my training had made me +desire the quietude as a part and portion of the best of life, friend +Barbara had made thought inexpressibly pleasant and wholesome to me. There +were men all around me who had, perhaps, little or no thought of +religion--that is, the emotion of religion, which is so often confounded +with religion itself--yet when I made known my wishes of a quiet home to +them they assisted me without the usual looking askance at my plain garb +and manner of speech. Was I not a man like themselves? were not my +functions as their own? Take away what each of us looked upon as faults in +the other, and we were equals and alike. I made my request boldly: had I +minced the matter and felt a shame in it, I might have merited all the +ridicule which men morally and physically strong, or men morally and +physically diseased, usually throw upon a conscious weakness which would +pass for something else. I was recommended to many houses, only they all +had the great drawback--many other lodgers. At last some one proposed Jane +Afton's house: that was quiet enough, they assured me, but the greatest +objection to any paled when in comparison with this: she had a demented +woman in charge--harmless, but wholly astray from sense. + +"I assure thee," I said to friend Afton, "I fear not the minds of people: +the body does the harm in this world." + +"In that case you have come to the right house," said she. "For Fanny +Jordan is a little, slight woman without strength, and her insanity is +from religion." + +And so on my first day in the place I found my lodging-house. It might +have been more conciliating to my mind had friend Afton not attempted the +use of the plain language, for she made but a sorry attempt at it at best. + +"Thee's trunk is arrived, and thee's hat-box is smashed by the lout of a +boy that brought it," she said; and this is merely a specimen of her +manner. It was grating upon me, but I forbore to make remark, as I have no +doubt her principle was all that could be desired, although it was faulty +in its constructive carrying out. I may safely say that I did not remember +there was another lodger besides myself in her house when I retired for +the night, and I was sitting at the little table in my room moved by a +power of mind to think past many miles, even unto the home of friend +Hicks. I saw him sitting by the kitchen-fire that was so warm and large in +its dimensions--for it was cold weather now--and on the opposite side of +the hearth his daughter on a low chair was busy looking into the flame +that lit up the smooth bands of her hair that lay like satin of a soft +brown color upon her comely face. Her eyes were bright, her lips were +parting as one who jests, and--But I fear me I have run beyond sense +again. Suffice it to say that I sat there culpably lost in thought, when +a solemn voice like the voice of a prophet of old startled me and made me +cold. + +"Out of tribulation comes patience; out of patience, hope," said the +voice; and then a low, scornful laugh. It was then I remembered the poor +demented woman, and I arose and opened my room-door. She was standing +inside her own room, a slight pale woman with a sadly-bereaved face: her +arms were stretched out above her as one in supplication. "False God!" she +cried in a voice cold and bitter, in which there was no trace of +tenderness or pitiful earnestness, "Thou hast made me a lie upon Thy cruel +earth. Tribulation Thou hast given me; patience the world forced upon me; +hope Thou hast denied me." + +Still with her arms outstretched she _spoke_ to the Lord and reviled Him. +She clenched her hands in anger at times as her speech waxed more +wrathful. In much compassion I would have gone in and closed the door, but +as I was on the point of doing so, she, with one of those quick and +nervous thrills that so often belong to dementia, saw me and pointed to +me. She would have spoken, but I saw friend Afton's hand suddenly close +about her waist, draw her forcibly from my view, and close the door +between us. + +"The Lord is mighty," I said to myself, and called to mind that youth +among the tombs so long ago--that youth that they of old said was +possessed of devils, and whom the pitying Man of Sorrows called upon to be +free from torments. + +In the morning friend Afton explained that I need have no fear. + +"I think thee fails to comprehend that we Friends neglect one thing in our +training, and that is fear," said I. + +"And poor Mrs. Jordan won't make thou look for another boarding-house, +sir?" asked she. + +"Friend Jordan assuredly will not," said I, "but friend Afton may, if thee +will pardon my abruptness, which seems to wound thee." + +"How?" + +"Thee has thy language, friend--I have mine. I do not stop to say 'you' +to thee because thy mode is not as mine: then thee might be as free with +me, and say 'you' to me, just as thee would if my plain garb were changed +for a Joseph's coat." + +"I thought I was polite in doing it," said she. + +"Thank thee. Thee may be that, but thee is scarcely truthful; and all due +politeness, as thee terms it, must be truthful, or it is called deceit." + +She understood me, and she was natural thereafter. + +Now perhaps I chafed in spirit at this time because I heard no word from +friend Hicks. I am convinced at this present moment that had he felt it +borne in upon him to indite me some words of homely comfort, I should have +been gratified exceedingly. But his mind lay otherwise presumably, for no +word came for a week. + +Once during that week I saw friend Jordan walking wearisomely along the +passage-way of friend Afton's house. She gave me a quick look as she saw +me ascending the stair. "Ishmael!" she said. + +"Nay," I responded: "no man's hand is against me, nor is mine against any +man." + +"And yet I am Hagar weeping in the wilderness." + +"I pity thee." + +"You are a Quaker." + +"I am a Friend." + +"And you believe in God?" + +"Yea, verily. The voice of the Lord in the vineyard calleth me ever." + +"Fool! There is no God." + +"Nay, I am no fool. 'The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.' +And I never say that." + +"I used to think that, but God has taken away my life, and left me the +life of the damned." + +"The Lord taketh no man's life: He giveth, and man destroyeth." + +"I like you, Quaker. You don't say 'Never mind,' and give me right in all +I say. Yes, I like you, Quaker." + +"I thank thee, friend," I said, and passed by her and entered my room. + +As time went on I grew accustomed to hearing her at all hours of the night +repeating passages from the Scriptures, and misapplying their calm +greatness. I could hear her open her window, and could see from mine that +she stood there talking to the stars, and asking them where was the woman +that had been she, and where was her own dear love and unalterable +affection? I could see that she wept often, and that the tears ran down +her white wan face all pinched by suffering, and that she supplicated the +night in tender words to bring back to her what had gone away--what had +gone away! + +I was alone in this place: the people were not such as would be my choice +of companions, for there were no Friends in the community, and I scarcely +think I ever was fitted for the society of the world's people. I care much +for silent meditation and in-looking, and the joys and pleasures of the +gayer people seemed but noisome, and not of a tone with Nature's silent +sunshine and green leaves, white snows and growing things. It is, I know, +my early training that has made me fitted only to see thus. I cared now +much to stay in my room after the tasks of the day were over and think of +the friends far off. Belike I am most domestic in my desires, and that may +be the cause why my mind travelled swiftly and surely to friend Hicks's +fireside, and dwelt so long and with all gentleness close beside his +daughter. And then I began, in my being so much alone, to inconsistently +connect friend Barbara with friend Jordan. The demented woman was always +calling out for those who were much to her, but who were far from her--was +always saying that her heart wanted the love that was denied it. I bethink +me that I more fully sympathized with her than was my wont, simply because +I cared so much for friend Barbara and heard so much of longing for +affection that had been denied. Therefore, as time passed on and the +letters from friend Hicks were very few, and always ended with "My +daughter sends her duty to thee"--never one word more or less--and I +could not with becoming grace say aught of her to her father when I +replied to his letters, which were strictly of a business nature and +acknowledged the receipt of various moneys which I sent him for the +keeping,--therefore, as time passed on, friend Jordan grew upon me. I +would leave my room-door open of nights, and take a chair and seat myself +upon the threshold; and as she walked up and down, up and down, restless +and discontented, repeating disconnected scraps of Bible verses, I would +often say a word to her in answer to some heedless and terrible question +of the goodness of the Lord. Friend Afton had less care of her at such +times, for she told me friend Jordan cared very well for me because I was +so quiet and orderly. Then when the woman was tired and could walk no +more, I would offer her my chair and would talk to her--not giving her +frivolous answer for frivolous question, but saying to her what I had to +say as earnestly as though I had been moved by Spirit in meeting to give +the assurances of my own heart. It is a wonder to me at this day how calm +she often became under my mode of speech. She fell into the way of looking +for me and expecting me, and often when I saw her, far in the night, at +her window holding out her very thin hands in supplication, I would softly +raise my own window and say kindly, "Don't thee think thee could sleep if +thee tried, friend Jordan?"--"I will try, Quaker," she would say, and go +in and close the window, and remain quiet for the rest of the night. It +was a sad contrast, I am sure--she wild and uncontrollable from +self-government, and I held in and still by discipline of many ancestors. +And then when she found that her cavilling against the Lord and His mighty +works was the opposite of pleasant to me, and made me sad of visage, she +after a while would content herself to say, "I used to say" so and so, as +the case might be, "but now I doubt myself;" which was more comforting. + +But there came a letter from friend Hicks; and after much talk concerning +a certain lot of lumber and other matters of business, he said, "My +daughter is not looking healthful, and is not so well as could be +desired." I do not know what made me forget all the rest of his letter but +that one line. It seemed to me that I was stricken with pain with that +thin black miracle--pen-and-ink words. I wrote a letter to him instantly; +I put aside all modesty of demeanor and spoke only of Barbara, of my +desire to have her well and cheerful; I never once in all my lines +mentioned business. Friend Hicks must have been sensibly astonished. That +night when I went home friend Jordan for the first time grated upon me, +and I would fain have gone into my room and closed the door and thought +long and painfully. In my flighty mind I saw Barbara pining, and for me! +Never before had I thought she cared so well for me as now when she was +not in fair health. It is a sad happiness to think that some dear one is +far from thee, and heavy of heart all for thee. But I was selfish, for I +heard a sob at my closed door, and friend Jordan was crouched on the sill. +"Have _you_ deserted me too?" she asked. + +"Nay, friend," I replied, "but I had sad news which left me beyond much +comfort." + +"'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will +fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort +me,'" she said. + +"Will thee touch my hand?" I tried to say, for my voice was quite broken. +"Comfort!" + +And so we talked long and tirelessly: she seemed in her sanest mind, and +something in me appeared to make her look at me more than usual. + +"Why do you not complain?" she asked me. And I told her that I had nothing +to complain of. + +And to-night she told me that she had read the Scriptures +misunderstandingly all her life; that she had taken their truths to her in +affright; that their majesty had, instead of raising her up to their +height, debased her even below herself. I saw in all from the first, even +had friend Afton not told me, that what is called religion had wrecked her +mind, and in my own manner of understanding the Lord's way I could +scarcely comprehend it. + +Although I had not much mind in my affairs after I had heard of Barbara's +illness, yet a week sped along before I had word again. And what word was +it that _did_ come? I have read that to hear of the death of one who is +infinitely near to us in spirit is not the worst we can hear--that the +separation by death is not so eternal as the separation which life can +make. Barbara wrote me herself this time, unknown to her father; and I had +been away but a matter of three months. She said no word of her illness +nor of her father: she addressed herself in all honesty and ruth to me. +She had, somehow, in the place met with a man, one of the world's people, +whom she found much to her mind--far more than I had ever been, she said: +her father necessarily knew nothing of this, and she had chosen rather to +tell me of it first, as I had the best right to know first of all. (The +best right! I remembered the time when I had spoken to her father before I +had spoken to her of my intended coming to this place where I was.) She +asked me would I be willing to take as a wife a woman who could not care +for me solely, carrying guiltily into her married life the memory of her +great feeling for a man who was not her husband. She asked if it were not +better that she should tell me this, rather than to hold herself tied to a +false code of honor which should make her give herself to me because she +had promised to do so. She would, if I still chose to hold her to her +word, marry me, but it was best I should know; and she trusted I would say +no word to her father about this, as it was clearly between her and me. +She further said that did I refuse to give her up she would not compromise +me in the least, as she did not know if that other man cared at all for +her; and she was sure, as I must be, that she had never shown him that he +was aught to her. + +This was the letter I was to answer unknown to her father. I saw her honor +standing out white and unassailable in it: I saw even her modesty, and, +above all, her truth and the womanly knowledge of what a wife should be to +her husband. I also saw that her father's will was her law; that her +father's will had influenced her ever; and that when I first proffered my +request of him for his daughter in marriage she took such a request as his +will: had he said No, her answer would have been likewise: as it was Yes, +she had acquiesced. But the pain of it! the pain of it! + +I never once, from the minute the words clung to my mind like burning iron +to flesh, questioned as to how I must reply to the letter: the reply +shaped itself while I read her words. Could I take to myself a wife who +cared little for me? I cared too much for Barbara to have such a wife. + +And yet when I had come to friend Afton's house and entered my room, I +closed and locked the door before I sat down to reply to the letter, as +though I were doing a guilty deed. My hand trembled: the words I wrote +were blurred. I heard a low knock at my door, but I answered it not: why +should even a demented woman see me as I was? I wrote and re-wrote my +answer before I found it fitted to my mind. My letter must have not myself +in it: it must be clean of all foolish extravagance. And yet I extenuated, +for I called for another letter from her. I wrote, Did she rightly know +her mind? was she firm in her reasoning? _and who was the man?_ I had not +intended writing that last, but something forced me to it: it was not vain +curiosity, for curiosity is too far removed from pain to be a part of it. +But I could not see whom she could possibly know of all the inhabitants of +the place that could thus exercise her spirit. There were few people there +whom she had not known for years, and it was not likely she should have +known any one all this time and only now be awakened to a greater +knowledge. Perhaps a cruel feeling of jealousy actuated me in some +measure. Why, I reasoned, had friend Barbara thus led me on? But I stopped +there. Had she led me on? Nay. She had never given me reason to think that +I was aught to her: I had ever wrestled in spirit, hoping that she would +see in me what I saw so clearly in her--all that I could ever care to call +my own. She had never tried to deceive me by false words or looks or +actions: she had been true to her instincts as a woman in all this time, +and had been as I had seen her. Too truly I saw that the care had been +upon my side alone--that when I was most uplifted in spirit it was because +I had been blinded to anything save my own inordinate feeling and hope of +comfort. I forgot all else as I sat there with her letter in my hand; and +even my discipline was of little account when I folded my arms across the +table and let my head rest there for a little while. + +How long I rested there I know not, but I was aroused by words of friend +Jordan, and she said those awful questionings from the Cross, "My God! my +God! why hast Thou forsaken me?" And I arose and raised my hand, and said +those same words too. Then I opened the door, and she sprang into my arms. +She was wild and excited, and friend Afton was with her, but powerless to +do anything. I let her weep close to me and cry out and laugh--do just as +she would until she sank exhausted. Then I talked with her calmly and +dispassionately, and she clung to me and would not be removed. For an hour +or so we rested there, and then friend Afton gave me a letter from friend +Hicks. I started, and would have put the letter in my pocket, but the eyes +of friend Jordan were upon me, and I thought to allay her suspicions of my +not acting toward her as I would toward others; so I opened and read the +letter. No need to send friend Barbara the letter now. Her father wrote me +that his daughter, much against his will, had formed the acquaintance of a +hireling minister, one Richard Jordan, who had charge of the new church +just built there, and that, though friend Barbara had never told of the +man, yet her father had seen her walking with him. Friend Hicks deemed +that her being promised to me gave only me the right to expostulate with +her upon this, and desired me to write to her forthwith, as he himself +had said no word to her. I had friend Barbara's letter and her father's: +which should I obey? The one coming from the friend who was nearest to me? + +I afterward wrote to Barbara that I could not say one word of myself in +this matter, but that she must act as she thought best; only that she must +take all things into consideration, and must weigh one thing in the +balance with another--that did she make a mistake in going from her people +into the world, she might never rectify it to her own mind; but that if +she could justify her acts to herself, there was no need to call upon any +aid outside of what her own principles of right could afford her. I +thought it as well not to put myself at all in the letter, and to let her +think that it was as though I were writing as an interested friend to +another who scarcely knew what to do in a momentous time. Her father's +letter I passed entirely over. He never knew, nor does Barbara know to +this day, that I received it. + +Yet that night, when I sat with friend Jordan in the hallway of friend +Afton's house, my mind seemed confused and full of uncertainty. I scarcely +noted the name which friend Hicks told me belonged to the man he had seen +his daughter walking with, and not until friend Afton called to the other +woman that she should retire for the night did the similarity of the names +bear upon me. The hireling minister was named Jordan, the demented woman's +name was Jordan: it might be a casual coincidence, but the man seemed +taking all away from me that had made my life pleasant and hopeful, while +the woman said I gave her new life, new hope, and all that life and hope +consisted of--a healthful belief in the Lord and His works--although I +knew that while she said so her lost mind was perhaps only being +influenced by a quiet and moderate one. Yet maybe there are moments of +what is called delusion which are the most sane constituents of a +lifetime. As it was, late in the night, as I lay awake and sore in spirit, +and wild with all things and almost with the Lord, sleepless and with +much yearning grown upon me, I heard the voice calling out in the night up +to the stars and the mystery of quiet for love and all that had been near +and dear to this one clouded mind; and I turned my face to the wall. And I +was like Ishmael indeed when I remembered, while that voice threw out its +plaint and the words were clear and cleaved the darkness, that when I had +last parted with Barbara, when I hurried from her presence fearful to look +back lest she might call me from manly order by a look or a smile, I had +thrown myself against a man outside the garden-gate, the man with a white +neckcloth and long black ill-cut coat, who had told me that he was the +minister of the church but newly erected, and that I had bidden peace go +with him, and he had bidden it back to me. + + +III. + +I bethink me that I was very much perturbed in my mind after this, albeit +I was exteriorly the quiet, drab-colored Quaker that all knew me to be. +Still, I have failed yet to ascertain what discipline that can govern +actions, looks and speech can make man's heart throb more sluggishly than +the feelings to which all Nature is prone must ever provoke. Thee knows a +Friend must be seemly to all, and that alone will inform thee that I +manifested no alteration in my demeanor. And my business qualifications +were not impaired because of the uprising in my mind, for what has worldly +business to do with spiritual? I could bargain and sell to the best +advantage, be wholly consistent in all things, and be termed a man whose +feelings were so schooled that no emotion ever dared come nigh them. Thee +may think, the world may think, that suppressed emotion is annihilated +emotion: I who wear drab know differently. And the silence between friend +Barbara and myself was not a silence to be broken by useless speech: it +was too closely allied to the end of something I had been brought to think +almost eternal. I still had letter after letter from friend Hicks, which I +replied to always--letters on purely business-matters, never once touched +by so much as the name of Barbara, for she no longer sent her duty to me; +and I could but realize how stern her father must be to her at home for +her dereliction, and I--pitied her. As the weeks went by and I heard +nothing of or from her, I may safely asseverate that the cruelly weak +feeling that had oppressed me at first left me by degrees, and I could see +far clearer than before, and could perchance blame myself for having +failed to see ere this that I was what I was to her. I began to weigh the +many chances of happiness against the many certainties of unhappiness, and +I could but understand that she had with a woman's keen insight found out +easily what it had cost me so considerably to know. I could not blame her: +why should I? She had acted most fairly to me: had I done as well to her? +In friend Afton's house I fought the battle which alone Friends approve of +and sanction--the battle of the spirit against the flesh; and I conquered +well, I am assured, although I could never cease to care for friend +Barbara as I had cared for her since I had known her: it would have been +entirely inconsistent with the principles of constancy and truth which had +been so early and late imbibed by me. + +I must say now that my great comfort in these times was friend Jordan; +and, odd as it may appear, the similarity of her name with that of the man +whom friend Hicks's daughter had learned to regard so highly seemed to +call her closer to me than anything else at the same season might have +done. Of evenings we would take up our old manner, and she would say, +"Quaker, you are kinder than you know." + +She had never learned my name, nor had expressed a desire to know it: what +were names of things to her who had lost the things themselves? + +"Thank thee, friend Jordan," I would say; and then we would sit and talk. +Sometimes she would do all the talking: at other times she let me join +her. With her confused mind it was perhaps the best work I could have had, +to try to let in a little light where darkness had been so long. + +"We always love those the most who give us the most pleasure, do we not?" +she asked me. + +I could not give her the reply she wanted, for friend Hicks's daughter had +given me considerable happiness; so I remained quiet. + +"Then next to those I love, and who nightly shine down to me in long, cool +reaches of light from the stars, I love you, Quaker," she said. + +"I thank thee," I replied. + +"You should never thank for love," she said, "for it is a gift that +requires as much as it bestows." + +"And yet they call thee crazed!" I said, and placed my hand upon her wild +dishevelled hair. + +"But you Quakers never show any feeling," she went on, "and I suppose you +never love." + +"Sometimes we do," said I. + +She seemed to think I was made sorry by what she had spoken, for she +started. "What am I saying?" she exclaimed, "when you have shown me more +feeling than any one in the world; and maybe you love me a little." + +"We should love our neighbors as ourselves." + +"I want the stars," she began, weeping: "I want to reach them, to go to +them, to have the light in my mind that is gone out of it up to them." + +I could say nothing, for my want was something akin to hers. + +Many a wild night had she now, and friend Afton and I had often but sad +chances of keeping her within bounds: we had to watch her while she would +stand and call out to the far-off lights in the sky; and as, like a +prophet of old, she stood and repeated divine words of care and an +all-seeing love, she was grown softer and gentler, and her speech seemed +to come from one who understood what the words imparted to her hearers. +She was fond of saying the Psalms of David, and would weep at the touching +words of suffering, of joy and of exultation which that man, so many +thousand years dead, had been wont to sing as perchance he stood as she +now did, looking up to the same nightly skies and weeping as she now wept, +as his words rang through the ever-settled calmness of the night, and had +no answer borne to his ears, but only the quiet made even quieter by his +sorrow or his joy. + +But I find that again I am using superfluous if not wholly irrelevant +speech. Let me say, however, that had I possessed more curiosity--or, +rather, if I had expressed more curiosity--friend Afton would have told +me, as she afterward did, that the woman was not so entirely alone as she +imagined herself to be, for that weekly letters reached friend Afton +wherein were goodly wages for the care of the stricken one. + +That my affairs prospered I am glad to relate--that in the six months I +should be here I should accumulate an agreeable sum might have pleased me. +But what was that sum to me now, when I realized to what purpose I had +expected to put it? Yet my greed received a check. I had a letter from +friend Hicks. It was a most grievous letter: my money, all that he held in +trust for me (and it was my all), had been stolen from his keeping. The +theft had occurred more than a month ago, but as he had sedulously hoped +to detect the culprit, he had kept the fact from me for shame at what +might be termed his negligence of reposed trust. He had instigated +diligent search, but nothing had come of it: there was no one to accuse. +He had determined, however, to pay back to my account from his own moneys +the full amount, and had only informed me of the loss that there might be +no secrecy between us, and that I should never hear from outside parties +that this thing had occurred, and that he had used most reprehensive tact +to disguise the fact from me. I wrote a letter to him. I reminded him that +the money was of no account--that as it had been intended for the +well-known purpose, and as my marriage was to be at no set time, let it +rest to my loss, and not his, for that I would never accept of his money +to cover what was truthfully a theft from me. + +I heard long afterward that he let his daughter read this letter, as he +knew that she was often with Richard Jordan, and he desired to acquaint +her that I meant to be well in all my principles. This was as I understood +it. + +The loss of this money gave me little concern, I assure thee; and now that +it would never be put to its originally-intended use, I perhaps cared less +than I ordinarily might have cared; for friend Barbara's long silence +could help me but to one conclusion, and that was that she would never be +my wife. For had she consented to be guided by her former promise, her +confession of much care for another man would have most effectively +debarred me from calling into requisition that promise so exactingly +obtained from her. My wife must have no fondness for another man than me. +And yet when, a few days after the receipt and reply of her father's +letter, another in friend Barbara's writing was placed in my hand, I can +but say that more joy than I had ever before experienced was mine, and I +thought of Miriam's song so full of triumph and gladness. And then the +wonderful words of the psalm came to me. "'Yea, though I walk through the +valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, +Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me,'" I said aloud, and thought of poor +friend Jordan as she had understood those words so short a time ago. + +Suppose Barbara had written in answer to my letter to her--had owned that +her thought of the man was a delusion, and that she cared for me, and me +only, above all others in the world! I carried the letter by me for many +an hour, for it was business-time when I had it, and I let nothing +interfere with needful duties of the day. It lay within my pocket +pulseless, as a letter always is: its envelope had my name upon it +carefully and neatly inscribed. Then when I had an hour to myself I +walked, not more briskly than usual, to a sunny hollow surrounded by new +boards smelling most pleasantly of the rich forests they had helped to +form, and there, surrounded by deal that had held many a singing bird's +voice in its time, I broke the seal of Barbara's second letter to me. I +think I was vastly stricken as I read it--more stricken perhaps than life +can ever experience twice. Did she write as I had most hoped and desired? +It was a long letter, and I read it through twice to fully comprehend it. +She was a thief! she herself had stolen the money! She knew that her +father must have written me that the money was gone, and she did not wish +to see the blame rest on an innocent person. Her father had been harsher +than usual with her, and, when she would have asserted herself in many +ways, had always referred her to me, telling her that I was the rightful +one to say what might and what might not be: her father had refused to +hear her make mention of the man she had mentioned to me, and had not +recognized her being with him at all. (I could see in this that friend +Hicks had tried more than arbitrary means to reduce his daughter's mind to +the level of his wishes. But to the letter.) How could she, then, she +wrote, tell her father of the taking of the money? She trusted that I +might not think her overly bold, but if I did, it made no difference to +her, for she was rendered desperate on all sides. (Ah, friend Barbara! thy +father had ever such a cold reserve, that was not meant unkindly, but +nevertheless was overly severe.) She could trust me, for it was my own +money she had taken. (I bethink me it was but an odd trust at best.) She +had taken the money to send to the man she cared so much for: he was a +very poor man, and the congregation of which he was the hired preacher was +poor; and as they had built a church which they could not afford to pay +for, it was but in reason that they could not pay the minister of the +church. The church was what the world's people call "a split" from another +church--split because the people quarrelled about the Thirty-nine +Articles, whatever they be, one party wanting thirty-eight or forty, and +the other perhaps the original number. She knew that the minister was +woefully in debt; that no one would trust him any further; that he had +met and told her nothing at all of it; that he was duly polite to her, +and mentioned none of his affairs at all. (O Barbara! how thee shielded +him!) But she had questioned a woman who knew much of him, and the woman +had said that he must have money for a certain secret purpose, the nature +of which purpose the woman refused to tell, and that he was crazed for +money. Barbara had asked the woman if the purpose were a sinful or +shameful purpose, but the answer had been that it was the most holy one a +man could have. Then Barbara had looked upon his white face and knew of +his straits, and had pitied him. It was borne in upon her that she should +help him. "Thee would have felt so, I am assured," she wrote. Then looking +around her, confused by many and conflicting feelings, sad and grieving +for herself, having no one to go to in the greatest trial a woman can +have, she had seen but one thing to do: she called to mind Samuel Biddle, +and how generously he had acted toward her--more generously than she had +reason to suppose another man could ever do. Friend Biddle's letter to her +was couched in such kindly terms that she knew it had been no great +overthrow of feeling on his part to give her the liberty which she had +long debated with herself whether to accept or not; and had finally +concluded to do so. Then she had taken the money from her father's iron +safe. She had sent it anonymously to the man, though she feared that he +suspected from whom it came; and that was the saddest stroke of all, "for, +friend Biddle," she wrote, "I know not if I am anything unto him, but I do +assure thee he is much to me." (Poor friend Barbara! how I pitied thee for +that!) + +This was all of the letter, and I read it through twice. + +I had gotten over my foolish emotion of disappointment, as I have told +thee before this, and I went back to my office and indited a reply to the +epistle immediately. "Let it be as thee has done, and thee may think that +I fully sympathize with thee." That was my only reply. + +And when I thought over the letter--her letter--from beginning to end, all +day long, I did not see that I could have indited a different reply. +Still, when I went home to friend Afton's house, and friend Afton came to +me and told me that friend Jordan had had a more miserable day than ever, +although my sympathy was fully aroused, yet it was with a sense of relief +that I entered my room and closed the door, for I bethought me that I had +much to ponder on. But my thought was interrupted: the poor demented woman +was weeping in her room. She was stormy in her grief, and I heard friend +Afton scolding. I opened my door. "Friend Jordan, is thee grieved?" I +asked. + +"Oh, Quaker," she cried, running to me, "they are all in the sky calling +to me, and this woman will not let me reach them." + +"She would have jumped out," whispered friend Afton, "and I had to nail +down the sash." + +I nodded, and motioned for her to keep quiet. "Does thee think thee would +like to talk to me a while?" I asked. + +"Not now, for I only want to talk with them. But tell me, Quaker--tell me +if you want one thing more than any other in this world, and I will ask +them to give it to you. Is there any one that you want to love you? For +they can easily help you, as they have made me love you, and made you be +good to me." + +"Nay, friend," I said, "even the light from the stars cannot make one care +for me who would not." + +Then she cried out that I was sorrowful, and that I made her heart +heavy--I who had always been a comfort and a guidance before. + +"I will be so to thee now," I said. + +"Then give me rest," she cried. + +"The Lord knows I would give thee rest, O soul! if I could." + +She looked at me most suddenly--I may say as a flash--and quickly glanced +in at my room. + +"Then I think I can rest in your room," she said. + +"Thee shall do so." + +Then I put on my hat and prepared to go out, and friend Afton said it was +a relief to have one so obliging in the house. + +"Farewell to thee," I said to friend Jordan. + +She stood inside my doorway and looked at me. "'Come unto Me, all ye that +labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,'" she said, and moved +like a spirit toward me, placed her lips upon my cheek, and went in and +closed the door. It was the first time any woman save my mother had ever +kissed me. + +Those words made me feel that they applied to me, youth is so vain and +exacting even of the Lord's words. Nevertheless, as I went along the dark +streets I heard them ringing in my ears with such a benign meaning as I +never had understood in them before. + +Long I walked the streets, lost in much thought and contemplation, and I +felt what was weakness leaving me, and I deemed how heavy were some yokes +compared to mine--friend Barbara's, for instance, she who must be +surrounded and held in by unsympathizing moods. I fain would have helped +her more than I did, but any further succor only meant a further offering +of my feeling for her, and _that_ she was as powerless to accept as I was +to make her accept it. Long I walked the streets, and had the hopeful, +helping words around and within me. And late in the night I turned my +wearied steps toward friend Afton's, and once more was entering the house, +when, as though an angel--as though the Lord above--had spoken to me from +high overhead, in grave, solemn, holy voice came the words, "Come unto Me, +all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." And I +turned my eyes above as I hope to turn them on the last Vast Day, when +methinks those words may again be spoken and call forth a mighty response. +But what was that white form so far above, even upon the sill of my +window, three stories from the ground? With a great terror grown upon me I +rushed into the street, and saw far up there, far in the night, friend +Jordan standing out in the darkness with hands supplicating the stars, +saying those words. This was why she had desired to rest in my room: with +the cunning of insanity, she had known that the windows of her own room +were nailed down, and so on the instant had thought of mine as a possible +means of reaching to her stars. With every limb frozen, it seemed, by +sudden petrification, I had no power to unclose my lips, but I made a +sound like a groan, I know, and then I saw her reach up high, high toward +the sky and give a leap into the air. There came a crash of breaking +glass, and I saw a whirl of white garments far above me that came +fluttering down in a spiral motion. I rushed toward it ere it fell: there +came a sickening thud on the ground beside me, and a lifeless mass lay +there. + +I can scarcely narrate this calmly or well, but thee sees I have tried my +best. + +Then when friend Afton came to me, and in pardonable and much agitation +asked me to write to the friends of the dead woman, I complied, and +directed the letter to the Reverend Richard Jordan; and his address was +the place where friend Hicks sojourned, as likely thee has guessed. + +"What was this man to the deceased? does thee know?" I asked friend Afton. + +"No, sir. He placed her with me a year ago, and asked me to take the best +of care of her, and has always sent me money for her wants, and paid me +well besides. And, strange to say, I never could get her to mention him. +He seemed to be a good man, but poor in his dress--too young in the +profession to get a wealthy 'call.'" + +So the Reverend Richard Jordan, who had cared for this woman, was the man +whom friend Barbara thought well of! This was what the money had been +wanted for--this was the secret which was "neither sinful nor shameful, +but the most holy that a man can have"! + +When he came in at friend Afton's I went to him. "Who was the deceased?" I +asked--most bluntly, I fear me. + +"She was my wife," he said sadly, and so altogether frankly that I knew he +was no guilty man, whatever else he might be. + +"I grieve with thee," I said. "And before thee goes up to thy solemn +office of praying by thy dead wife's side, I would tell thee something. I +met thee--look at me!--months ago, when I almost stumbled against thee +outside of Benjamin Hicks's garden-gate. Thee was new to the place, thee +told me." + +"I remember you," he said, and flushed painfully. + +"Nay, do not redden," I said almost with anger. "I know all things about +thee, and nothing that is harmful." + +"Nor ever has been harm," he said firmly. + +"I know thee has had much money sent to thee, and thee does not know from +whom." + +"I do," he said, "and am ashamed to say I accepted it. It came from your +friend Hicks's daughter, but it was for my poor wife--for her alone. I +could not help myself--I--" + +"Thee has no need of shame for that. The Lord must have made it patent to +thee that we are placed here to help one another. And so much as friend +Hicks's daughter did for thee she did well, and she has my consent; for it +was my money that she sent thee." + +"God bless you, man!" he said, holding his hand to his face, "for I am +nothing to you." + +"And what is Benjamin Hicks's daughter to thee if thee is nothing to me?" + +He looked at me in wonder: "She is to me a good woman who did her benefits +in secret. I never had much conversation with her, for we seldom met; but +she was ever kind, and I heard that she would marry soon. I never talked +much to any one, for my cares have been great to me, and that sorrow up +stairs has been a goodly portion." + +"Go to thy sorrow," I said, "and let it comfort thee, as sorrow should, +that thee did the best thee could." + +Was I cruel in having spoken to him as I had, and at this time? + +Then I wrote all--everything of the past months, of to-day, of the +deceased woman's suffering, of her death, her husband's arrival, and all +that he had said to me. It was a considerably lengthy letter, but what of +that? It was for friend Barbara. I sent it at once. Then I must not +neglect my duties here, so I stayed the allotted time, receiving +occasional word from friend Hicks, but none from his daughter. + +I think my mind was much inclined toward the hireling minister, for I +clearly saw, as thee no doubt does, that he never knew what Barbara +thought of him, and that he never could know, for he was a pure man and +the sad husband of a sad wife. And when he would have said words of thanks +to me when he left me I checked him: "Thee knows a Friend is not well +pleased with many words: let the many good deeds which thee will do act as +the many kind words thee would give me." + +"With God's help I will," said he. + +"Verily," I said; "and I bid peace be unto thee!" + +"And unto you, friend!" he said. And the words that had been our first +parting at friend Barbara's father's gate were the words that were our +last as I left him at his wife's grave, from whence he was to go to a +church in a distant city. + +And when the six months were over and I was at liberty to go, I wrote +another letter of a single line to Barbara, and this was it: "I am coming +to thy father's house." That was all, for I thought that maybe she might +not care overly much to greet me, all things considered, and might +peradventure choose to make a trifling visit to her cousin Ann Jones, to +whose house she as often as not went for those changes which most women +much incline toward. Yet when I entered upon the porch of friend Hicks's +house, and Barbara was there, and said, "I am pleased to see thee, friend +Biddle," and her father said, "How does thee do?" altogether as though I +had seen them but a day before, it was most agreeable to my mind and +soothing to my spirit. And when, after the dinner was over, before which +there was little chance at conversation, although I thought I detected a +slight pallor in friend Barbara's face where before the dints had been, +and when she had betaken herself to some place out of sight, and friend +Hicks was beginning to talk upon my loss in his suffering a theft on his +premises, I merely said, "Yea, friend Barbara took the money." Thee should +have seen his face: it must have afforded thee considerable amusement. + +"Barbara?" he said with much difficulty. + +"Yea," I answered. "I know all about it; and she gave it to Richard +Jordan, whom thee thought to frighten me with. He was poor, in need, and +had a wife whom he must care for. I was in the house where his wife was +ever since thee parted with me." + +"Samuel Biddle!" + +"Verily, friend Hicks. And she was a demented woman, whom her husband had +to take good care of, and she relied upon me for such poor comfort as I +could afford her. She is deceased, and it was myself who sent for her +husband. Maybe there was much secrecy which thy daughter and I kept +without thee, but mayhap we did it for the best. And thee must never +inquire anything more about it; and I regret thee had so much concern, and +thank thee for a most kind and generous friend." + +"Samuel Biddle, I deemed that Barbara was not unto thee, nor thee unto +her, as both had been to one another." + +"Thee must be at odds with reason, friend Hicks, for I never have cared +less for Barbara than I did at the first." + +So I told the narrative to him; and although I strictly adhered to the +facts, I bethink me that had I made them a trifle straighter he might not +have comprehended them as he did. But he came to me as I sat there on the +porch, and he laid his hand on my arm: "I have been overly strict with +Barbara, friend Samuel, and thee must pardon me, for I only kept her for +thee. Thee is a good man; and although some of Barbara's and thy doings in +this matter, as thee has related it, are scarcely in accordance with an +understanding of the world such as I have, and such as thee may hope to +have in time, and most of what thee has done is rather removed from +orthodox, yet I hold myself in thy debt." + +Then as I glanced up I saw a face looking narrowly from far off in the +hall: I fear me that Barbara must inevitably have heard every word. +However, it was rather warmish weather, and as she came out to the porch +with her knitting in her hands, she looked as though she were grateful to +me; and there were wet rings about her eyes which made me sad to see, and +I remembered the time in the lane, a long while ago, when I had seen just +such rings and stains about her eyes. We spake not a word, and she sat +down on one side of me and her father on the other. As in another time, +friend Hicks put his handkerchief over his face to protect him from the +air--the flies not being come yet--and I scarcely hesitate to say that he +covered his left eye as well as his right. Then I am positive that the +silence grew irksome to me, for I knew not what to think of Barbara's +manner, nor what to say. So I arose and stood on the edge of the porch, +and looked far over the large unbroken landscape, as all early spring +landscapes are. I could not have been there many minutes before a soft +touch made me turn about, and Barbara was beside me, and the rings about +her eyes were wetter than ever. + +"Barbara!" I said softly. + +"Hush!" she whispered most gently, glancing toward her father, now balmily +sleeping. "Samuel Biddle, I must thank thee: thee knows what for, so I +need not repeat it. I thank thee, not as I would have thanked thee six +months ago, but as--" + +"As what, Barbara?" + +"As thy wife soon to be, Samuel Biddle." + +I placed her hand in mine. "And thee is not mistaken?" I said. + +"Nay, not mistaken now. I never knew thee till I understood that all men +are not like thee. I never knew thee till I most foolishly thought that a +few words from another man on even trivial subjects meant more than thy +silence of devotion. I learned my own mind in many ways, Samuel, and then +I learned thee; for I had thought thee was in a measure thrust upon me, +and only because I had not seen thee before father's approval of thee. +That other man's care of his wife--a care that kept her affliction from +any and all eyes--showed me what thee was even, and what thee was for me. +I cannot rightly say all that I would, but I can only say this--that I +never cared overly much for thee at first, Samuel Biddle; but Richard +Jordan has taught me one thing, which perhaps no other man in the world +could have done." + +"And that is--?" + +"What love is." + +"Barbara!" + +"Yea, Samuel Biddle, what love is; for I love thee, I love thee, and but +only thee; and might never have told thee so, but I heard what thee said a +spell ago to father, and I knew that thee was not disgusted with me, but +cared for me as much as ever. Yea, a stranger man has taught me what love +is." + +And while I could but pat her head as it rested upon my shoulder, I said +gladly, "Barbara, more than man has taught me what love is, and to love +thee; but maybe a man can teach to woman what the Lord alone has taught to +me." + +"Let me think so, Samuel--that the Lord taught thee, and thee taught me +the knowledge fresh from the Lord." + +Then I placed my lips upon Barbara's lips. + +ROBERT C. MEYERS. + + + + +LADY MORGAN. + + +With her wit and vanity, poor French and fine clothes, good common sense +and warm Irish heart, Lady Morgan was a most entertaining and original +character--a spirited, versatile, spunky little woman, whose whole life +was a grand social success. She was also one of the most popular and +voluminous writers of her day; but, with all her sparkle and dash, +ambition and industry, destined in a few generations more to be almost +unknown, vanishing down that doleful "back entry" where Time sends so many +bright men and women. As the founder of Irish fiction--for the national +tales of Ireland begin with her--and the patron of Irish song (she +stimulated Lover to write "Rory O'More," and "Kate Kearney" is her own), +always laboring for liberty and the interests of her oppressed countrymen, +and preserving her name absolutely untouched by scandal through a long and +brilliant career, she deserves a place among distinguished women. She +evidently had no idea of being forgotten, and completed twenty chapters of +autobiography--its florid egotism at once its fault and its charm--besides +keeping a diary in later years, and preserving nearly all the letters +written to her, and even cards left at her door. But on those cards were +the names of Humboldt, Cuvier, Talma and the most celebrated men of that +epoch, down to Macaulay, Douglas Jerrold and Edward Everett, while she +could count among her intimates the noted men and women of three +countries. La Fayette declared he was proud to be her friend; Byron +praised her writings, and always expressed regret that he had not made her +acquaintance in Italy; Sydney Smith coupled her name with his own as "the +two Sydneys;" Leigh Hunt celebrated her in verse; Sir Thomas Lawrence, Ary +Scheffer and other famous artists begged for the honor of painting her +portrait. Was it strange after all this, and being told for half a century +that she was an extraordinarily gifted and fascinating woman, that (being +a woman) she should believe it? + +She was extremely sensitive in regard to her age, and if forced to state +it on the witness-stand would doubtless have whispered it to the judge in +a bewitching way, as did a pretty but slightly _passe_ French actress +under similar embarrassing circumstances. She pleads: "What has a woman to +do with dates--cold, false, erroneous, chronological dates--new style, old +style, precession of the equinox, ill-timed calculation of comets long +since due at their station and never come? Her poetical idiosyncrasy, +calculated by epochs, would make the most natural points of reference in +woman's autobiography. Plutarch sets the example of dropping dates in +favor of incidents; and an authority more appropriate, Madame de Genlis, +who began her own memoirs at eighty, swept through nearly an age of +incident and revolution without any reference to vulgar eras signifying +nothing (the times themselves out of joint), testifying to the pleasant +incidents she recounts and the changes she witnessed. _I_ mean to have +none of them!" + +Sydney Owenson was born in "ancient ould Dublin" at Christmas: the year is +a little uncertain. The encyclopaedias say about 1780: 1776 has been +suggested as more correct, but we will not pry into so delicate a matter. +A charming woman never loses her youth. Doctor Holmes tells us that in +travelling over the isthmus of life we do not ride in a private carriage, +but in an omnibus--meaning that our ancestors or their traits take the +trip with us; and in studying a character it is interesting to note the +combinations that from generations back make up the individual. Sydney's +father was the child of an ill-assorted marriage. "At a hurling-match long +ago the Queen of Beauty, Sydney, granddaughter of Sir Maltby Crofton, lost +her heart, like Rosalind, to the victor of the day, Walter McOwen +(anglicized Owenson), a young farmer, tall and handsome, graceful and +daring, and allowed him to discover that he had 'wrestled well and +overthrown more than his enemies.' Result, an elopement and mesalliance +never to be forgiven--the husband a jolly, racketing Irish lad, unable to +appreciate his high-toned, accomplished wife, a skilful performer on the +Irish harp, a poetess and a genius, called by the admiring neighbors 'the +Harp of the Valley.'" Their only child, the father of Lady Morgan, was a +tolerable actor, of loose morals and tight purse, who could sing a good +song or tell a good story, and who was always in debt. + +Sydney was a winsome little rogue, quite too much for her precise and +stately mother, who was ever holding up as a model a child, in her grave +fifty years agone, who had read the Bible through twice before she was +five years old, and knitted all the stockings worn by the coachmen! All in +vain: Sydney was not fated to die early or figure as a young saint in a +Sunday-school memoir. She took a deep interest in chimney-sweeps from +observing a den of little imps who swarmed in a cellar near her home, and +on one occasion actually scrambled up a burning chimney, followed by this +sooty troop. Her pets were numerous, the prime favorite being a cat named +Ginger, from her yellow coat. Her mother, who was shocked by Sydney adding +to her nightly petition, "God bless Ginger the cat!" did not share this +partiality, as is seen in the young lady's first attempt at authorship, +which has been preserved: + + My dear pussy-cat, + Were I a mouse or a rat, + Sure I never would run off from you, + You're _so_ funny and gay + With your tail when you play, + And no song is so sweet as your mew. + But pray keep in your press, + And don't make a mess, + When you share with your kittens our posset, + For mamma can't abide you, + And I cannot hide you + Unless you keep close in your closet. + +Her voice was remarkable, but her father, knowing too well the +temptations that beset a public singer, refused to cultivate her talent +for music, saying, "If I were to do this, it might induce her some day to +go on the stage, and I would prefer to buy her a sieve of black cockles +from Ring's End to cry about the streets of Dublin to seeing her the first +prima donna of Europe." A genuine talent for music will assert itself in +spite of neglect, and one evening at the house of Moore, where with her +sister Olivia she listened in tearful enthusiasm to some of his melodies, +sung as only the poet could sing them, was an important event in her life. +She tells us that after this treat they went home in almost delirious +ecstasy, actually forgetting to undress themselves before going to bed. +This experience developed a longing to know more of the early Irish +ballads, and roused a literary ambition. If the grocer's son could so +distinguish himself, she could surely relieve her dear father from his +embarrassments; and she began at once to write with this noble object. Her +unselfish and unwavering devotion to her rather worthless father is the +most attractive and touching point in her character. After her mother's +death she was sent to boarding-school, where she studied well, scribbled +verses, accomplished herself in dancing, and furnished bright home-letters +for her less brilliant mates. + +She next figures as a governess in the family of a Mrs. Featherstone of +Bracklin Castle. There was a merry dance for adieu the night she was to +leave, but, like Cinderella, she danced too long: the hour sounded, and +Sydney was hurried into the coach in a white muslin dress, pink silk +stockings and slippers of the same hue, while Molly, the faithful old +servant, insisted on wrapping her darling in her own warm cloak and +ungainly headgear. Being ushered in this plight into a handsome +drawing-room, there was a general titter at her grotesque appearance, but +she told her story in her own captivating way until they screamed with +laughter--not at her now, but with her--and she was "carried off to an +exquisite suite of rooms--a study, bedroom and bath-room, with a roaring +turf fire, open piano and lots of books;" and after dinner, where she was +toasted, she sang several songs, which had an immense effect, and the +evening ended with a jig, her hosts regretting that they had no spectators +besides the servants. This, her first jig out of the school-room, she +contrasts with her last one in public, when invited by the duchess of +Northumberland to dance with Lord George Hill. She accepted the challenge +from the two best jig-dancers in the country, Lord George and Sir Philip +Crampton, and had the triumph of flooring them both. + +Her first novel, _St. Clair_, was now completed. She had kept the writing +of it a profound secret, and one morning the young author, full of +ambitious dreams, borrowed the cook's market-bonnet and cloak and sallied +out to seek her fortune. Before going far she saw over a shop-door "T. +Smith, Printer and Bookseller," and ventured in. It was some minutes +before T. Smith made his appearance, and when he did so he had a razor in +one hand, a towel in the other, and only one side of his face shaved. +After hearing her errand he told her, good-naturedly, that he did not +publish novels, and sent her to Brown. Brown wanted his breakfast, and was +not anxious for a girl's manuscript; but his wife persuaded him to promise +to look it over; and, elated with success, Sydney ran back, forgetting to +leave any address, and never heard of her first venture till, taking up a +book in a friend's parlor, it proved to be her own. It had a good sale, +and was translated into German, with a biographical notice which stated +that the young author had strangled herself with an embroidered +handkerchief in an agony of despair and unrequited love. _The Sorrows of +Werther_ was her model, but with a deal of stuff and sentimentality there +was the promise of better things. "In all her early works her characters +indulge in wonderful digressions, historical, astronomical and +metaphysical, in the midst of terrible emergencies where danger, despair +and unspeakable catastrophes are imminent and impending. No matter what +laceration of their finest feelings they may be suffering, they always +have their learning at command, and never fail to make quotations from +favorite authors appropriate to the occasion." + +_The Novice of St. Dominick_ was Miss Owenson's second novel, and she went +alone to London to make arrangements for its publication. In those days a +journey from Ireland to that great city was no small undertaking, and when +the coach drove into the yard of the Swan with Two Necks the enterprising +young lady was utterly exhausted, and, seating herself on her little trunk +in the inn-yard, fell fast asleep. But, as usual, she found friends, and +good luck was on her side. The novel was cut down from six volumes to +four, and with her first literary earnings, after assisting her father, +she bought an Irish harp and a black mode cloak, being always devoted to +music and dress. At this time her strongest ambition was to be every inch +a woman. She gave up serious studies, to which she had applied herself, +and cultivated even music as a mere accomplishment, fearful lest she +should be considered a pedant or an artiste. + +Next came _The Wild Irish Girl_, her first national story, which gave her +more than a national fame, and three hundred pounds from her fascinated +publisher. It contains much curious information about the antiquities and +social condition of Ireland, and a passionate pleading against the wrongs +of its people. It made the piquant little governess all the rage in +fashionable society, and until her marriage she was known by the name of +her heroine, Glorvina. As a story the book is not worth reading at the +present day. + +In _The Book of the Boudoir_, a sort of literary ragbag, she gives, under +the heading "My First Rout in London," a graphic picture of an evening at +Lady Cork's: "A few days after my arrival in London, and while my little +book, _The Wild Irish Girl_, was running rapidly through successive +editions, I was presented to the countess-dowager of Cork, and invited to +a rout at her fantastic and pretty mansion in New Burlington street. Oh, +how her Irish historical name tingled in my ears and seized on my +imagination, reminding me of her great ancestor, 'the father of chemistry +and uncle to the earl of Cork'! I stepped into my job carriage at the hour +of ten, and, all alone by myself, as the song says, 'to Eden took my +solitary way.' What added to my fears and doubts and hopes and +embarrassments was a note from my noble hostess received at the moment of +departure: 'Everybody has been invited expressly to meet the Wild Irish +Girl; so she must bring her Irish harp. M.C.O.' I arrived at New +Burlington street without my harp and with a beating heart, and I heard +the high-sounding titles of princes and ambassadors and dukes and +duchesses announced long before my poor plebeian name puzzled the porter +and was bandied from footman to footman. As I ascended the marble stairs +with their gilt balustrade, I was agitated by emotions similar to those +which drew from a frightened countryman his frank exclamation in the heat +of the battle of Vittoria: 'Oh, jabbers! I wish some of my greatest +enemies was kicking me down Dame street.' Lady Cork met me at the door: +'What! no harp, Glorvina?'--'Oh, Lady Cork!'--'Oh, Lady Fiddlestick! You +are a fool, child: you don't know your own interests.--Here, James, +William, Thomas! send one of the chairmen to Stanhope street for Miss +Owenson's harp.'" + +After a stand and a stare of some seconds at a strikingly sullen-looking, +handsome creature who stood alone, and whom she heard addressed by a +pretty sprite of fashion with a "How-do, Lord Byron?" she says: "I was +pushed on, and on reaching the centre of the conservatory I found myself +suddenly pounced upon a sort of rustic seat, a very uneasy pre-eminence, +and there I sat, the lioness of the night, shown off like the hyena of +Exeter 'Change, looking almost as wild and feeling quite as savage. +Presenting me to each and all of the splendid crowd which an idle +curiosity, easily excited and as soon satisfied, had gathered round us, +she prefaced every introduction with a little exordium which seemed to +amuse every one but its object: 'Lord Erskine, this is the Wild Irish Girl +whom you are so anxious to know. I assure you she talks quite as well as +she writes.--Now, my dear, do tell my Lord Erskine some of those Irish +stories you told us the other evening. Fancy yourself among your own set, +and take off the brogue. Mrs. Abingdon says you would make a famous +actress: she does indeed. You must play the short-armed orator with her: +she will be here by and by. This is the duchess of St. Albans: she has +your novel by heart. Where is Sheridan?--Do, my dear Mr. T---- (This is +Mr. T----, my dear: geniuses should know each other)--do, my _dear_ Mr. +T----, find me Mr. Sheridan. Oh! here he is!--What! you know each other +already? So much the better.--This is Lord Carysford.--Mr. Lewis, do come +forward.--That is Monk Lewis, my dear, of whom you have heard so much, but +you must not read his works: they are very naughty.' Lewis, who stood +staring at me through his eye-glasses, backed out after this remark, and +disappeared. 'You know Mr. Gell,' her ladyship continued, 'so I need not +introduce you: he calls you the Irish Corinne. Your friend Mr. Moore will +be here by and by: I have collected all the talent for you.--Do see, +somebody, if Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons are come yet, and find me Lady +Hamilton.--_Now_, pray tell us the scene at the Irish baronet's in the +rebellion.' + +"Lord L---- volunteered his services. The circle now began to widen--wits, +warriors, peers and ministers of state. The harp was brought forward, and +I tried to sing, but my howl was funereal. I was ready to cry, but +endeavored to laugh, and to cover my real timidity by an affected ease +which was both awkward and impolitic. At last Mr. Kemble was announced. +Lady Cork reproached him as the _late_ Mr. Kemble, and then, looking +significantly at me, told him who I was. Kemble acknowledged me by a +kindly nod, but the stare which succeeded was not one of mere recognition: +it was the glazed, fixed look so common to those who have been making +libations to altars which rarely qualify them for ladies' society. Mr. +Kemble was evidently much preoccupied and a little exalted. He was seated +my _vis-a-vis_ at supper, and repeatedly raised his arm and stretched it +across the table for the purpose, as I supposed, of helping himself to +some boar's head in jelly. Alas! no! The _bore_ was that _my_ head +happened to be the object which fixed his tenacious attention, which, +dark, cropped and curly, struck him as a particularly well-organized +_brutus_, and better than any in his repertoire of theatrical perukes. +Succeeding at last in his feline and fixed purpose, he actually stuck his +claws in my locks, and, addressing me in the deepest sepulchral tones, +asked, 'Little girl, where did you get your wig?' Lord Erskine came to the +rescue and liberated my head, and all tried to retrieve the awkwardness of +the scene. Meanwhile, Kemble, peevish, as half-tipsy people generally are, +drew back muttering and fumbling in his pocket, evidently with some dire +intent lowering in his eyes. To the amusement of all, and to my increased +consternation, he drew forth a volume of the _Wild Irish Girl_, and +reading with his deep, emphatic voice one of the most high-flown of its +passages, he paused, and patting the page with his fore finger, with the +look of Hamlet addressing Polonius, he said, 'Little girl, why did you +write such nonsense? and where did you get all those damned hard words?' +Thus taken by surprise, and smarting with my wounds of mortified +authorship, I answered unwittingly and witlessly the truth: 'Sir, I wrote +as well as I could, and I got the hard words from--Johnson's Dictionary.' +He was soon carried off to prevent any more attacks on my head, inside or +out." + +Glorvina was now very much the fashion, visiting in the best Dublin +society and making many friends, whom she had the tact to retain through +life. When articles of dress or ornament are named for one, it is an +unfailing sign that they have attained notoriety, if not fame, and the +bodkin used for fastening the "back hair" was called "Glorvina" in her +honor. Like many attractive women of decided character, she had her full +share of faults and foibles. Superficial, conceited, sadly lacking in +spirituality and refinement, a cruel enemy, a toady to titles, a blind +partisan of the Liberal party,--that is her picture in shadow. Her style +was open to severe criticism, and Richard Lovell Edgeworth suggests mildly +that Maria, in reading her novel aloud in the family circle, was obliged +to omit some superfluous epithets. + +In this first flush of celebrity she never gave up work, holding fast to +industry as her sheet-anchor. Soon appeared two volumes of patriotic +tales. _Ida of Athens_ was Novel No. 3, but written in confident haste, +and not well received. The names of her books would make a list rivalling +that of the loves of Don Giovanni (nearly seventy volumes), and any +extended analysis or criticism would be impossible in this rapid sketch. +"Every day in my life is a leaf in my book" was a motto literally carried +out, and she tried almost every department of literature, succeeding best +in describing the broad characteristics of her own nation. "Her lovers, +like her books, were too numerous to mention," yet her own heart seemed +untouched. She coquetted gayly, but her adorers were always the sufferers. + +Sir Jonah Barrington wrote her at this time a complimentary and witty +letter, in which he says of her heroine Glorvina, "I believe you stole a +spark from heaven to give animation to your idol." He thought the +inferiority of _Ida_ was owing to its author's luxurious surroundings. "I +cannot conceive why the brain should not get fat and unwieldy, as well as +any other part of the human frame. Some of our best poets have written in +paroxysms of hunger, and I really believe that Addison would have had more +point if he had had less victuals; and if you do not restrict yourself to +a sheep's trotter and spruce beer, your style will betray your luxury." +But soon came an increase of the very thing feared for her fame, in the +form of an invitation from Lady Abercorn and the marquis to pass the +chief part of every year with them. This was accepted, and thus she met +her fate. Lord Abercorn kept a physician in his house, Doctor Morgan, a +handsome, accomplished widower, whom the marchioness was anxious to +provide with a second wife. She had fixed upon Sydney as a suitable +person, but the retiring and reticent doctor had heard so much of her wit, +talents and general fascination that he disliked the idea of meeting her. +He was sitting one morning with the marchioness when a servant threw open +the door, announcing "Miss Owenson," who had just arrived. Doctor Morgan +sprang to his feet, and, there being no other way of escape, leaped +through the open window into the garden below. This was too fair a +challenge for a girl of spirit to refuse, and she set to work to captivate +him, succeeding more effectually than she desired, for she had dreamed of +making a brilliant match. Soon a letter was written to her father asking +his leave to marry the conquered doctor, yet she does not seem to have +been one bit in love. He was too grave and good, though as devoted a lover +as could be asked for. It was a queer match and a dangerous experiment, +but after a while their mutual qualities adjusted themselves. He kept her +steady, and she roused him from indolent repose. As a critic of that time +says: "She was as bustling, restless, energetic and pushing as he was +modest, retiring and unaffected." Lover gives this picture of them: "There +was Lady Morgan, with her irrepressible vivacity, her humor that indulged +in the most audacious illustrations, and her candor which had small +respect for time or place in its expression, and who, by the side of her +tranquil, steady, contemplative husband, suggested the notion of a Barbary +colt harnessed to a patient English draught-horse." + +She had a certain light, jaunty air peculiarly Irish, celebrated by Leigh +Hunt in verses which embody a faithful portrait: + + And dear Lady Morgan, see, see where she comes, + With her pulses all beating for freedom like drums, + So Irish, so modish, so mixtish, so wild, + So committing herself, as she talks, like a child; + So trim, yet so easy, polite, yet high-hearted, + That Truth and she, try all she can, won't be parted. + She'll put on your fashions, your latest new air, + And then talk so frankly, she'll make you all stare. + Mrs. Hall may say "Oh!" and Miss Edgeworth say "Fie!" + But my lady will know the what and the why. + Her books, a like mixture, are so very clever + That Jove himself swore he could read them for ever, + Plot, character, freakishness, all are so good, + And the heroine herself playing tricks in a hood. + +After a happy year with her patrons Glorvina married and moved to a home +of her own in Kildare street, Dublin, whence she writes to Lady Stanley: +"With respect to authorship, I fear it is over. I have been making +chair-covers instead of periods, hanging curtains instead of raising +systems, and cheapening pots and pans instead of selling sentiment and +philosophy." But even during this first busy year of housekeeping she was +working upon _O'Donnel_, another national tale, for which she was paid +five hundred and fifty pounds. It was highly praised by Sir Walter Scott, +and sold with rapidity, but her Liberal politics made her unpopular with +the leading Tory journalism of England. In point of pitiless invective the +criticism of the _Quarterly_ and _Blackwood_ has perhaps never been +exceeded. Her books were denounced as pestilent, and the public advised +against maintaining her acquaintance. Miss Martineau, an impartial critic, +if impartiality consists in punching almost every one she passed, did not +fail to give our heroine a black eye, speaking of her as "in that set to +which Mrs. Jameson belonged, who make women blush and men grow insolent." + +Sir Charles and his wife next visited Paris with the intention of writing +a book. Their letters carried them into every circle of Parisian society, +and in each the popularity of Lady Morgan was unbounded. Madame Jerome +Bonaparte wrote to her: "The French admire you more than any one who has +appeared here since the battle of Waterloo in the form of an +Englishwoman." When _France_ appeared the clamor of abuse in England was +enough to appall a very stout heart. John Wilson Croker was one of her +most bitter assailants, and attempted to annihilate her in the +_Quarterly_. She balanced matters by caricaturing him as "Counsellor +Crawley" in her next novel, in a way that hit and hurt, and by a witticism +which lives, while his envenomed sentences are forgotten. Some one was +telling her that Croker was among the crowd who thought they could have +managed the battle of Waterloo much better than Wellington, whose success, +in their estimation, was only a fortunate mistake. She exclaimed, "Oh, I +can believe it. He had his secret for winning the battle: he had only to +put his _Notes on Boswell's Johnson_ in front of the British lines, and +all the Bonapartes that ever existed _could never have got through them_!" +Maginn, in _Blackwood_, gave unmerciful cuts at her superficial opinions, +ultra sentiments and chambermaid French. _Fraser's Magazine_ complimented +her sardonically on her simple style, being happy to observe that she had +reduced the number of languages used, as the Sibyl did her books, to +three, wisely discarding German, Spanish, the dead and Oriental languages. +But she received the cannonade, which would have crushed some women, with +perfect equanimity. As a compensation, she was the toast of the day, and +at some grand reception had a raised dais only a little lower than that +provided for the duchess de Berri. At a dinner at Baron Rothschild's, +Careme, the Delmonico of those times, surprised her with a column of +ingenious confectionery architecture on which was inscribed her name spun +in sugar. It was a more equivocal compliment when Walter Scott christened +two pet donkeys Hannah More and Lady Morgan. + +_Florence Macarthy_, another novel, attacking the social and political +abuses in Irish government, was her next work. Colburn, her publisher, who +had just presented her with a beautiful parure of amethysts, now proposed +that she and her husband should go to Italy. "Do it, and get up another +book--the lively lady to sketch men and manners, the metaphysical +balance-wheel contributing the solid chapters on laws, politics, science +and education." They accepted the offer, and received the same +extraordinary attentions as in their former tour. This may be accounted +for by the fact that it was well known that they were to prepare a book on +Italy. It was equally well known that Lady Morgan had a sharp tongue and +still sharper pen; so that people who lived in glass houses, as did many +of the magnates, were remarkably civil to "Miladi," even those who +regarded her tour among them as an unjustifiable invasion. Byron +pronounced this book an excellent and fearless work. During her sojourn in +Italy Lady Morgan became enthusiastic about Salvator Rosa, and began to +collect material for writing the history of his life and times, which was +her own favorite of all her writings. + +In 1825 the _Diary_ is started, chatty, full of gossip and incident. She +writes, October 30th: "A ballad-singer was this morning singing beneath my +window in a strain most unmusical and melancholy. My own name caught my +ear, and I sent Thomas out to buy the song. Here is a stanza: + + Och, Dublin City, there's no doubting, + Bates every city upon the say: + 'Tis there you'll hear O'Connell spouting, + And Lady Morgan making tay; + For 'tis the capital of the foinest nation, + Wid charming pisantry on a fruitful sod, + Fighting like divils for conciliation, + An' hating one another for the love o' God." + +_The O'Briens and O'Flahertys_ was published in 1827, and proved more +popular than any of her previous novels. There is an allusion to it in the +interesting account which Lord Albemarle gives us of his acquaintance with +Lady Morgan: "A number of pleasant people used to assemble of an evening +in Lady Morgan's 'nut-shell' in Kildare street. When I first met her she +was in the height of her popularity. In her new novel she tells me I am to +figure as a certain count, a great traveller who made a trip to Jerusalem +for the sole object of eating artichokes in their native country. The +chief attraction in the Kildare street 'at homes' was her sister Olivia +(Lady Clark), who used to compose and sing charming Irish songs, for the +most part squibs on the Dublin society of the day. One of the verses ran +thus: + + We're swarming alive, + Like bees in a hive, + With talent and janius and beautiful ladies: + We've a duke in Kildare, + And a Donnybrook Fair; + And if that wouldn't plaze, why nothing would plaze yez. + We've poets in plenty, + But not one in twenty + Will stay in ould Ireland to keep her from sinking: + They say they can't live + Where there's nothing to give. + Och, what business have poets with ating or dhrinking?" + +Justly proud of her sister, Lady Morgan was in the habit of addressing +every new-comer with, "I must make you acquainted with my Livy." She once +used this form of words to a gentleman who had just been worsted in a +fierce encounter of wit with the fascinating lady. "Yes, madam," he +replied, "I happen to know your Livy, and I only wish 'your Livy' was +_Tacitus_." + +Few of Lady Morgan's bon-mots have been preserved, but one is given which +shows that she occasionally indulged in a pun. Some one, speaking of a +certain bishop who was rather lax in his observance of Lent, said he +believed he would eat a horse on Ash-Wednesday. "Very suitable diet," +remarked her ladyship, "if it were a _fast_ horse." + +The _Diary_ progresses slowly by fitful jerks. Here is a characteristic +entry: "_April 3, 1834._ My journal is gone to the dogs. I am so fussed +and fidgeted by my dear, charming world that I cannot write: I forget days +and dates. Ouf! Last night, at Lady Stepney's, met the Milmans, Mrs. +Norton, Rogers, Sydney Smith and others--among them poor, dear Jane +Porter. She told me she was taken for me the other night, and talked to as +such by a party of Americans! _She_ is tall, lank and lean and +lackadaisical, dressed in the deepest black, with rather a battered black +gauze hat and the air of a regular Melpomene. _I_ am the reverse of all +this, and without vanity the best-dressed woman wherever I go. Last night +I wore a blue satin trimmed fully with magnificent point lace--light-blue +velvet hat and feather, with an aigrette of sapphires and diamonds. Voila! +Lord Jeffrey came up to me, and we had _such_ a flirtation! When he comes +to Ireland we are to go to Donnybrook Fair together: in short, having cut +me down with his tomahawk as a reviewer, he smothers me with roses as a +man. I always say of my enemies before we meet, 'Let me at them!'" Of the +same soiree she writes again: "There was Miss Jane Porter, looking like a +shabby canoness. There was Mrs. Somerville in an astronomical cap. I +dashed in in my blue satin and point lace, and showed them how an +authoress should dress." + +Her conceit was fairly colossal. The reforms in legislation for Ireland +were, in her estimation, owing to her novel of _Florence Macarthy_. She +professed to have taught Taglioni the Irish jig: of her toilette, made +largely by her own hands, she was comically vain. In _The Fraserians_, a +charming off-hand description of the contributors to that magazine, Lady +Morgan is depicted trying on a big, showy bonnet before a mirror with a +funny mixture of satisfaction and anxiety as to the effect. + +Chorley, the feared and fearless critic of the _Athenaeum_, speaks of Lady +Morgan as one of the most peculiar and original literary characters he +ever met. After a long and searching analysis he adds: "However free in +speech, she never shocked decorum--never had to be appealed or apologized +for as a forlorn woman of genius under difficulties." + +An American paper, the _Boston Literary Gazette_, gave a personal +description which was not sufficiently flattering, and roused the lady's +indignant comments. It dared to state that she was "short, with a broad +face, blue, inexpressive eyes, and seemed, if such a thing may be named, +about forty years of age." Imagine the sensations this paragraph produced! +She at once retorted, exclaiming in mock earnest, "I appeal! I appeal to +the Titian of his age and country--I appeal to you, Sir Thomas Lawrence. +Would you have painted a short, squat, broad-faced, inexpressive, +affected, Frenchified, Greenland-seal-like lady of any age? Would any +money have tempted you to profane your immortal pencil, consecrated by +Nature to the Graces, by devoting its magic to such a model as this +described by the Yankee artist of the _Boston Literary_? And yet you did +paint the picture of this Lapland Venus--this impersonation of a Dublin +Bay codfish!... Alas! no one could have said that I was forty then; and +this is the cruelest cut of all! Had it been thirty-nine or fifty! +Thirty-nine is still under the mark, and fifty so far beyond it, so +hopeless; but forty--the critical age, the Rubicon--I cannot, will not, +dwell on it. But, O America! land of my devotion and my idolatry! is it +from _you_ the blow has come? Let _Quarterlys_ and _Blackwoods_ libel, but +the _Boston Literary_! Et tu Brute!" + +In 1837 she received a pension of three hundred pounds a year in +recognition of her literary merits. In 1839 she published a book entitled +_Woman and her Master_, as solid and solemn and dull as if our vivacious +friend had put herself into a strait-jacket and swallowed a dose of starch +and valerian. + +The closing chapter of any life must of necessity be sad, friends falling +to the grave like autumn leaves. First her beloved husband died, then her +darling sister Olivia; and her journal she now calls her "Doomsday Book." +Yet in 1850 she thoroughly enjoyed a sharp pen-encounter with Cardinal +Wiseman on a statement about St. Peter's chair made in her work on Italy. +She writes: "Lots of notes and notices of my letter to Cardinal Wiseman. +It has had the run of all the newspapers. The little old woman lives +still." December 25, 1858, was her last birthday. She assembled a few old +friends at dinner, and did the honors with all the brilliancy of her +brightest days. She told a variety of anecdotes with infinite drollery, +and after dinner sang a broadly comic song of Father Prout's-- + + The night before Larry was stretched, + The boys they all paid him a visit. + +It was a custom in Ireland to "wake" a man who was to be hung, the night +before the execution, so that the poor fellow might enjoy the whiskey +drunk in his honor. There was one book more, "positively the last," but +she never gave up her pen, "her worn-out stump of a goosequill," until her +physician literally took it from her feeble fingers. She had grown old +gracefully, showing great kindness to young authors, enduring partial +blindness and comparative neglect with true dignity and cheerfulness, her +heart always young. She met death patiently and with unfailing courage on +the evening of the 16th of April, 1859. + +KATE A. SANBORN. + + + + +A COMPARISON. + + + I think, ofttimes, that lives of men may be + Likened to wandering winds that come and go, + Not knowing whence they rise, whither they blow + O'er the vast globe, voiceful of grief or glee. + Some lives are buoyant zephyrs sporting free + In tropic sunshine; some long winds of woe + That shun the day, wailing with murmurs low, + Through haunted twilights, by the unresting sea; + Others are ruthless, stormful, drunk with might, + Born of deep passion or malign desire: + They rave 'mid thunder-peals and clouds of fire. + Wild, reckless all, save that some power unknown + Guides each blind force till life be overblown, + Lost in vague hollows of the fathomless Night. + +PAUL H. HAYNE. + + + + +THROUGH WINDING WAYS. + +CHAPTER XI. + + +No boy with the ordinary sources of pleasurable activity open to him can +realize the gloom and despondency I felt at times when cut off from the +healthful energies of other men. I was no longer morbid; I would not allow +myself to feel that my infirmity was a bar to the enjoyment of life; yet, +all the same, I dreaded society and shrank from the fresh conviction of +inferiority I was certain to experience in going out with Harry, who was +strongest where I was so weak. He was the most delightful fellow in +society that I have ever seen. He comprehended everybody and everything +with the grasp of an ardent and sympathetic spirit. He was happy in +possessing a natural facility for pleasing women of all ages and all +degrees. The professors' wives and daughters were all in love with him: +his rooms were full of the work of white hands. He had as many +smoking-caps as there are days in the week, and might have fitted out the +entire class with slippers. But nobody wondered: he was so handsome and +tall and godlike that every woman believed in him, and felt the charm of +his grand manner, which put romance and chivalry into the act of helping +her over a puddle. + +I probably felt more reverence for the meanest woman we met in the street +than he did for his grandest friend in society; but, nevertheless, his +splendid courtesy illuminated the slightest social duty, whereas I stood +rayless beside him. He had been unlucky where his mother was concerned: +she was a weak woman to begin with, had never loved her husband, and had +left him for another man, whom she married after the disgrace and sorrow +she caused had killed her boy's father. Harry never spoke of this, but, +perhaps unconsciously to himself, it had changed the feeling he might have +had toward women into something defiant and cynical; and the attraction +they possessed for him was in danger of becoming debased, since he admired +them, old and young, with too scanty a respect, and believed too little in +the worth of any emotion they awoke in his heart or mind. + +It had been a matter of discussion between Harry and myself whether we +should attend Mrs. Dwight's party. But Jack had peremptory orders to bring +us both, and of course when the evening came we went. I had not seen +Georgy Lenox since the visit she had paid me a few months after my +accident, and I had often told myself that I wished never to see her any +more. Yet now that I was again near her I was eager to meet and talk with +her. I had often felt myself superior to other fellows of my age on +account of this very experience of living down a passion; but since I had +received her note I might have known that my experience had done little +for me--that I had merely been removed from temptation; for, school myself +as I might, my blood was leaping in my veins at the thought of looking +into her eyes again. One cannot be twenty and be wise at the same time. +But then in some matters a man is never wise, let his age be what it may. + +Mrs. Dwight's parlors were long and spacious and splendidly furnished. +They were well filled too before we entered, for we were so anxious to do +the most truly elegant thing to-night that we had put off making our +appearance until long past ten o'clock. Whatever expectations we may have +had of making a sensation in the rooms were considerably damped by the +awkwardness of our debut. Jack knew the house, and at once skirted the +crowd to find what he wanted, but Harry and I were obliged to stand still +in a corner, ignorant of everything save the name of our hostess, waiting +for something to turn up. The ordeal was not so disagreeable as it might +seem. The band played in the alcove, the women were well dressed and, to +our eyes, radiantly beautiful, while the men appealed to our critical +curiosity. Plenty of our college dons were there, and many of the leading +men of the day, but more interesting to us were the perfectly-dressed, +graceful society-men a little beyond our own age: these we watched +carefully, with the superior air of contempt with which every man of every +age views the social success of others; yet we envied them nevertheless. +In one of these we simultaneously recognized an old friend, and exclaimed +together, "If there isn't Thorpe!" + +And Thorpe indeed it was, better dressed, handsomer, more consummately the +finished man of the world, than ever. He was conversing with a stout, +elderly lady with gray puffs stiffly fixed on her temples and white +feathers in her braids, who was discoursing fluently to him on some +subject in which he seemed profoundly interested. Suddenly, however, his +eyes dilated and his face gained expression: he had met my eyes and nodded +with a half smile, and within five minutes he had adroitly bestowed the +old lady in an easy-chair and planted three professors before her, and was +shaking hands with us. We were rather proud of the exhibition of pleasure +he made at the encounter. True, it was languid and there was an air of +amused condescension in the way he accepted our cordial greetings; but we +were still boyish enough to like to feel him above and beyond us, although +not unattainable. + +"Well, old fellow," he remarked presently to Harry, "why are you penned up +here? Is it as sheep or wolves that you are kept out of the fold? Why +aren't you dancing?" + +"We only just came in," returned Harry, "and we don't know the hostess by +sight, and have nobody to speak to." + +"Why, that was Mrs. Dwight I was talking with just now.--A terrible old +woman, Floyd: I will introduce you presently, as soon as that crowd clears +away. I understand you came by invitation from Miss Lenox. Seen her?" + +We had seen nobody, we were obliged to confess. + +"Miss Georgy is having a good time. I put in my claim as an old Belfield +friend for a couple of waltzes. She has the best pace of any woman here. +Handsome girl, but dangerous: devilish amusing, though. Wonder where she +got her ideas in that cramped, puritanical little place? Pity she's going +to marry such a slow coach as Jack Holt! Beg your pardon--nothing +derogatory intended. You must yourself admit that he is rather slow.--By +the by, Floyd, how's the heiress?" + +I knew whom he meant, but did not like his tone, and asked him squarely to +whom he referred. + +He laughed, and looked at me with close scrutiny. "I alluded to Miss +Floyd," said he, twisting his long moustache with his gloved fingers. "I +don't know many heiresses myself, unlucky dog that I am! and she is such a +tremendous one--she is _the_ heiress _par eminence_. She must be fifteen +by this time. Remember me to her when you see her, Floyd; or perhaps you +write to her?" + +"Not at all," I answered. + +"Is she as pretty as ever?" he pursued. + +"Pretty? She never seemed to me pretty." + +"Oh, you are too young to recognize beauty when you see it. She was the +loveliest child I ever knew, with her pale complexion, her brilliant eyes +and aristocratic profile. Georgy Lenox is a gaudy transparency beside her. +But I forgot: I must come out and see you at your rooms. Only don't bore +me: it is the fashion at universities to talk of subjects never discussed +anywhere else by civilized beings, and I can't abide such rubbish. I hear +you're quite the pride of your class, Floyd?" + +"Oh, what wretched nonsense!" + +"Your modesty pleases me.--Come on, boys: Mrs. Dwight is looking at us." + +And we were introduced to our hostess at last, who received us in a manner +expressive of our social insignificance. "Dear me!" said she placidly, +"have you just come in? You're very late. I supposed everybody was here +long ago. Georgy asked my permission to invite some students: I never do +that sort of thing myself. There is really no end to it, you know. +Besides, I suppose your time is quite taken up with your studies and your +boating and your flirtations. Do you dance?--There's Georgy Lenox +beckoning to you, Mr. Dart." Harry darted off, and was lost in the crowd +before I had a chance to follow him with my eyes, for Mrs. Dwight, feeling +the need of support or wishing to be guided into another room, had put her +arm within mine, thus compelling my attention. Her conversation still +continued in a steady stream. It had occurred to her that I was in some +way connected with Mr. Floyd, whose reputation was national, and she went +on reviving reminiscences of him while we strolled about. She addressed me +with such unhesitating talkativeness that I succumbed at once, and became +an easy prey. What she said was quite uninteresting, besides being +rambling in a degree which hindered my getting the smallest idea of her +meaning; but her own enjoyment of her loquaciousness never once faltered, +and she discoursed as fluently as an eighteenth-century poet, and without +any more idea of the grace of finishing within a reasonable time. How I +envied Thorpe's easy method of withdrawing from her attack! how I longed +for some flank movement to draw off her attention! I was weaving futile +plans of escape, when suddenly a radiant creature in blue and white gauze, +the swirl of whose long skirts I had watched as I listened to Mrs. Dwight, +paused in the waltz close beside me, turned, looked me in the face and +patted my arm with her fan. "Floyd!" she cried, "Floyd Randolph! don't you +know me?" + +Mrs. Dwight vanished, I do not remember how or where. Everybody vanished: +I seemed to be alone in the world staring into Georgy Lenox's face. + +"Cousin Maria had fastened upon you like the Ancient Mariner," prattled +Georgy, laughing. "That is her way. If she fancies a young man, she bears +down upon him, and with one fell swoop carries him off. How melancholy you +looked! But you are as grave as ever now. Aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Oh yes, I am glad," I told her, but felt a weight upon my tongue, and +could not find expression for any thoughts which moved me. For, let it be +understood, I was powerfully impressed by her, and in a moment had changed +from what I was before I met her. She talked on rapidly, looking at me +kindly, and doubtless by this time sufficiently understood her power over +our sex to realize that under certain conditions words mean little on a +man's tongue, while silence confesses much. But, counting time by minutes, +I was with her but a very little while before half a dozen partners came +toward her claiming her for a new waltz. + +"Ask me to dance, Floyd," she whispered. + +"I do not dance, Georgy," I returned gravely, and drew back; and presently +she was whirling about again, her flower-crowned head gyrating against +first one black-coated shoulder and then another. + +I saw Jack Holt leaning against a pillar, and went up to him. "How do you +get on, Floyd?" he asked in his slow, easy way. "Rather heavy work, eh?" + +"Not at all," said I, feeling all the keen joy of youth: "I think it +delightful. Miss Lenox spoke to me, Jack. Of course you have seen her." + +"Oh yes," Jack laughed good-naturedly. "She at once told me I looked +countrified and old-fashioned--that my hair was too long and my gloves +were outrageous. In fact, she was ashamed to own me, and declared that +nothing should induce her to confess she was engaged to me until I looked +less seedy." + +We both laughed at this. Jack had a handsome allowance, which he spent +almost entirely upon the girl he loved. She was quite used to his +generosity toward her and self-denial toward himself, and gave him no more +credit for it than the rest of us award to the blessings we count on +assuredly. + +"You don't mind her nonsense, Jack?" + +"Not at all. She has such spirits she must chatter. You haven't seen her +for ages, Floyd: do you think her improved? Has she grown handsomer?" + +I was conscious of a dulness and thickness in my voice as I replied, "She +is much handsomer." + +"She is more womanly," pursued Jack: "I think her manner has softened a +little. There is more tenderness about it: as a girl she was sometimes a +trifle--hard. Now--But you see how she is, Floyd: there is nobody like +her. Good God! I ask myself sometimes what that perfect creature can see +in me." + +"A good deal apparently, since she is to be your wife." I said it without +faltering, and felt better after it. Something seemed to clear away from +my brain, and I could look at Georgy now with less emotion. She was all +that was bright and beautiful and winning, but--she was engaged to Jack +Holt. She showed slight consciousness of any restraint on her perfect +freedom, however, and gave away Jack's roses, purchased that day at a high +figure, before his eyes. Once or twice, when she passed us, she smiled and +nodded in the gayest good spirits; and at last, when she was tired of +dancing and wanted an ice, she beckoned to Jack, put her hand inside his +arm and led him into the conservatory. + +"How well she does it!" said Harry Dart, coming up to me. "Quite the +brilliant belle! By Jove! how she dances! I despise the girl with her +greedy maw, and deuced airs of high gentility when she is a perfect +beggar, but it is a second heaven to dance with her. She has the _go_ of a +wild animal in her. She is a little like a panther--so round, so sleek, so +agile in her spring. I told her just now I should like to paint +her--yellow eyes, hair like an aureole, supple form and satin coat--lying +on a panther-skin." + +"Her eyes are not yellow." + +"By Jove! they are. When she's dancing her whole face changes: she looks +dangerous." + +"I don't like your tone when you speak of her, Harry." + +"Oh! don't you? One of these days both you and Jack will be wiser where +that girl is concerned." + +But Jack came back to us presently, quite contented to look at her +successes and not to speak to her again that evening. At supper-time we +watched her from a distance, and a more brilliant young coquette than Miss +Georgy showed herself to be I have never seen. She looked more and more +beautiful as the night wore on, the flush deepening in her cheeks, her +eyes dilating, her hair loosening. Men full fledged though we considered +ourselves now in our senior year, we felt like boys before her. Every man +in the room seemed proud of her slightest mark of attention. Tall dandies +with ineffable composure and a consummate air of worldly knowledge; +tranquil, dreamy-eyed literary men; solid citizens with stiff white +side-whiskers and red faces,--all were in her train. Harry withdrew from +her at last, becoming, as I was, quite oppressed with a sense of his youth +and worthlessness. + +Thorpe good-naturedly came up to us as we three stood leaning against the +wall, tired and depressed, yet feeling no wish to get away until everybody +else had gone, and asked us how we liked it, if we had been introduced, +and all that. It came out then that Jack and I had not once thought of any +woman in the rooms except Georgy; and until Thorpe questioned me it had +not occurred to my mind that there was anything to do at the party but to +speak to Georgy if possible, or, failing that bliss, to watch her from a +distance. Harry laughed at me, and discussed the beauties of the ball with +Thorpe, who was fastidious and considered few girls handsome--in fact, was +so minute in his criticisms that Jack, always more than chivalrous in his +thoughts of women, left us, and with his hands crossed behind him looked +at the pictures on the walls of an inner room quite deserted now. The +conversation turned on Miss Lenox at once, and Thorpe said he was amazed +to find the girl so capable of achieving an easy success and bearing it so +well. "Where," he pursued with his graceful air, "did she learn those +enchanting prettinesses, those wonderful little caprices of manner? Could +they have been acquired in the genteel dreariness of Belfield?" + +"I should like to know," rejoined Harry with disdain, "if she has not +been practising them for twenty years? She flirted with Jack and Floyd +here when they used to buy her a penny's worth of peppermint, before they +were out of petticoats themselves. I dare say she made eyes at old Lenox +when he rocked her in the cradle." + +"And she is going to marry Holt? I suppose she makes the sacrifice on +account of his money. He takes it quietly and doesn't mind her flirting. +Is he cold, insensible, or has he such complete belief in her regard for +him?" + +Harry laughed: "Jack is too good himself not to believe in the goodness of +others. It is just as well. Nobody sees the Devil but those who have faith +in the Devil. I dare say she'll make him as good a wife as he wants: her +aspirations are all for wealth, and her extravagance will be her chief +fault." + +Thorpe shrugged his shoulders. "She will have several faults," said he +with a cynical air. "But I can forgive them all in so pretty a woman, and +admire her immensely as another man's wife." + +Harry declared he saw nothing particular about the girl except her beauty, +and a more unscrupulous resolve to make the most of it and its effect upon +men than other young women had the nerve to adhere to. "But look there!" +he cried: "see old Applegate" (one of our professors) "simpering over her +bouquet and smiling into her eyes. Wretched old mummy! what does he want +to go to parties for?" For we all held the ingenuous opinion that anybody, +man or woman, ten years or more older than ourselves, ought to stay at +home, eschew pleasure and devote their highest powers to keeping out of +the way of the young people to whom the world rightfully belonged. + +But the sight of old Applegate emboldened me. If she would talk so kindly +to him, why might she not give me one more word? I had no awe of the +professor, and had taken an aesthetic tea at his dismal house, and seen a +weak-eyed, sallow Mrs. Applegate and five lank little Applegates. +Accordingly, I limped across the room to the spot where Miss Lenox stood, +and was rewarded by a bright smile and an immediate air of attention. "I +want to talk to Mr. Randolph," said she, claiming her bouquet from the +professor, who regarded me with a bland smile. "He and I are the oldest +friends, but we have not seen each other for years. You won't mind, +professor?" + +He heaved a sigh. "Randolph gets all the prizes," said he good-naturedly: +"it is never of any use competing with him;" and he left us alone. + +I had but five minutes to speak to Georgina, but when I left her she had +made me promise to call on her next day at twelve o'clock. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"You need not tell Jack," Georgy had said to me when we made the +appointment, with a sudden smile and half blush; but I resisted the +suggestion, and told Jack at breakfast that I should call upon Miss Lenox +at noon. + +"I am so glad!" said he, "for, on my word, I am too busy to go near her in +the daytime. Tell her I should like to have gone with you, but must dig, +dig, dig, or I shall never pass those examinations." + +I have always been glad I was true to Jack in the letter of my actions. As +for the spirit, it is hard for any young fellow of twenty, with ardent +impulses just awakening, to keep it cribbed within prudent limitations. +Georgy's smiles had thrown a sudden illumination into my soul, and I +understood myself better than I had done yesterday. I had hitherto thought +myself a quiet fellow, but nothing to-day could cheat me out of the +knowledge of my youth. + +I found Georgy in a little back parlor, the third room of Mrs. Dwight's +gorgeous suite, curled up on a blue sofa in a white morning dress of the +simplest make, and her hair on her shoulders in the old fashion, quite +transforming her from the brilliant young lady she had seemed the night +before. She did not move as I came in, but lay still, pale and heavy-eyed, +and stretched out a little lifeless hand. "I am too tired to lift my +head," she said plaintively; and I, feeling myself an intruder, proposed +to go away at once. + +"Oh, nonsense, you foolish boy!" she cried, laughing. "That is the very +reason I wanted you to come. I am always dreary after excitement, and I +knew you would put me in good spirits. Sit down." + +I took a chair at the other side of the fireplace. + +"Why do you go away so far?" she asked pettishly. "Are you afraid I shall +eat you? Come here;" and she indicated a chair close by her sofa at which +I had looked longingly while fearing to venture so near. + +"There!" she said with an air of comfort, and looked into my face with the +open-eyed simplicity of a child. "Oh, Floyd," she exclaimed, but under her +breath, "I am so glad to see you again! Are you glad to be here with me?" + +"Very glad: it is not worth while saying how glad." + +"Why not? I never enjoyed anything half so much as I enjoyed last evening, +and half of it was because you were looking on. Tell me honestly now, was +I a success?" + +"So great a success that I wondered so superb a belle cared to speak to a +boy like me. I often used to think of your future, Georgy, and had many +brilliant dreams for you: I have no doubt that you will fulfil them all." + +She had quite lost her air of weariness, and flashed into life and +brilliance, and, starting up, was so close to me that I could feel the +warmth and fragrance of her cheek and hair. I should have drawn away my +chair, but that she had herself placed it; and now she fastened her little +slippered feet on the rounds and looked into my eyes thus closely with the +enchanting freedom of a child. + +"It is so nice to hear you say such things!" she ran on, cooing into my +ear. "I am so glad you meet me kindly! I have cried sometimes to think +that my naughtiness at The Headlands had quite estranged you." + +"Oh no. Why should you blame yourself?" + +"Because I was to blame. But, Floyd, if you only knew what I have suffered +you would forgive me. Say that you forgive me." + +She slid a slim satin hand into mine. I was not at all certain to what she +was alluding, but I took pleasure in assuring her that if I had anything +to forgive, I forgave it from my heart. + +She withdrew her hand after a time with a sudden hauteur and caprice of +prudery, which was perhaps one of those delightful little ways to which +Thorpe had alluded. + +"I missed you so after you left Belfield," she went on, her color +deepening as she spoke. "Everything seemed dull. No matter what we tried +to do, it seemed duller than what had gone before." + +We were all of us strong in quotations in those days; accordingly I +quoted-- + + "Peter was dull: he was at first + Dull--oh, so dull! so very dull! + Whether he talked, wrote or rehearsed, + Still with the dulness was he cursed-- + Dull--beyond all conception dull." + +"Oh, how clever!" she exclaimed. "Did you write it?" + +"Well, no: I think not." + +"But you can do such things. You are so clever, everything is easy to you. +That is why I always liked you better than any one else. You have +sympathy, wit, imagination. You understand things up to the heights and +down to the depths. Harry Dart is a little like you: he has wit and +imagination, but he is flippant, he has no sympathy. Poor old Jack has +plenty of sympathy, but neither wit nor imagination." + +"Nevertheless," said I, trying to control my voice, "it is Jack who has +won you: the rest of us are nowhere. He is the lucky one of us three." + +"Do you think him lucky?" she asked with a trembling, uncertain little +laugh. "I am very grateful to him for trying to win me: not many would +have done it, knowing all the circumstances of my family--all our faults +and humiliations. I am not like other girls, Floyd. They may fall in love, +and strive and hope and wait, with poetic dreams and trembling desires, to +end in rapturous fulfilment. Not so with me. I must marry early, and +marry a man who has wealth, to help those who expect everything from me. +My destiny came to me ready-made: I accepted it. The poetry and the +romance and the wild wish to love and be loved, as I might be if I could +afford to wait, were all put by for hard, practical common sense." + +I could see only the sweet pathetic droop of the lips, for her face was +turned away and downward. There was a moment's silence between us, but she +broke it with another of those uncertain little laughs and a glance at me. +"I don't know why I have told you this," she said softly. "Don't think I +under-value Jack. He has all the best qualities a man can possess for +success in life, but none of those essential for winning a woman's heart. +Why, Floyd--But tell me, could you do your stupid old lessons with me +looking over you?" + +Our eyes met, and we both laughed: I shook my head. + +"Oh, but Jack can," she cried triumphantly. "He amuses me that way +sometimes, and my fascinations never disturb the even tenor of his +thoughts: he will plod on with his foolish old mathematics with my head on +his shoulder. There! I oughtn't to have said that," she added with a +little grimace. "Don't tell Jack." + +I certainly had no thought of telling Jack. + +"As for you, Floyd," she went on more softly, "you will never grow so +hard-hearted. To the end of your life all the beautiful faces in the world +will set you dreaming. Do you think I have forgotten the old days when you +told me about Mignon and Rosalind, Mary Queen of Scots, Helen, Cleopatra, +and Gretchen in that tiresome German poem you used to be so fond of +reading. Even the thought of those fair women--some of them mere poetic +creations, others mortal women long since gone to dust--used to cause you +more heart-throbs than Jack will ever feel for all the rosy cheeks and +bright eyes that are close beside him." + +"Upon my word," said I abruptly, "you don't begin to know Jack's feeling +for you." + +"Pshaw! That is what he is always telling me. I know he wants to marry me: +he has a talent for the domestic. His most romantic dream is of a +fireside, an easy-chair and me." She looked up at me and laughed. "I +suppose," she went on with a resigned air, "that I shall have to wear +aprons and make puddings. But enough of our prosaic menage: I shall not be +married for a year yet. Talk to me about something else--about your +mother, Mr. Floyd and Helen--about everybody except that odious Mr. +Raymond." + +"My mother is in New York with my aunt, Mrs. Woolsey," I returned. "We +were all--my mother, Helen and Mr. Raymond, and I--at Mr. Floyd's house in +Washington through the holidays. I have seen none of them since." + +Georgy looked at me with peculiar intentness. "Tell me about that," she +said eagerly. + +"About our visit? Oh, it was pleasant. Mr. Floyd had planned it several +times, but something had always happened hitherto to prevent it. Of course +we saw constantly all the foremost people. Mr. Floyd had a dinner-party +every night, and my mother and Helen were no end of belles." + +"Helen! little Helen a belle?" + +"You would have thought so. She presided at the table, and the old men +were in ecstasies over her beauty, grace and grand manners. Mr. Floyd was +so happy and proud he could not keep his eyes from her." + +"She is only fifteen," observed Georgy, a little dissatisfaction clouding +her lovely face. "She is too young to be in society. But she has +everything, can do everything: it has always been so. Oh, if I were that +girl!--I suppose you are in love with her, Floyd." + +"I in love with Helen?" I did not say any more. Helen was a tall, slim +girl now, but with a frigid air about her which indisposed me to +admiration. How different from Georgy, whose smile and glance thawed +reserve and drew me close to her! I did not define the meaning of the +warm lovelight in her eyes, nor ask whether it was a perpetual fire, a +lure to all men, or merely a sign for me. Sitting beside her, I was +conscious of an atmosphere emanating as it were from the warmth and +kindness of her smile and glance--an atmosphere which in itself was +delicious and complete, predisposing me to dreamy, happy silence. To be +near her was to feel in a high degree the beauty and power of woman: full +of loveliness as were the arch, mobile face, the glorious hair, the eyes +with their life and tenderness, the perfect lips, they were but a small +part of her charm, which seemed to breathe from the statuesque pose of +bust and neck and head, and the supple grace of her every movement. + +She questioned me minutely concerning Mr. Floyd. He was no longer in +office now, but was spending his time at The Headlands with Mr. Raymond +and Helen until I should be ready in July to sail with him for Europe. It +was quite easy to perceive that the moment we touched upon this new +subject Georgy's composure and gayety were alike banished, and as I knew +that reasons existed which made The Headlands and Helen's society +forbidden ground for her, I would have changed to other topics; but she +kept on pertinaciously in her questionings until, with all my wish to +please her, I grew weary. + +It was quite as well, however, that my first enchantment should be a +little abated before I left her, and I went away thinking for a time more +about her curiosity concerning Helen and Mr. Floyd than about the rose on +her cheeks and the light in her eyes. I had no intention of bidding her a +final good-bye when I shook hands with her, but it fell out that more than +two years were to pass before I looked upon her face again. + +I think my mental equilibrium was perhaps a little disturbed by this +interview with her. She had--perhaps carelessly, perhaps with some faint +suggestion of truth--said some things which I could not forget. Had she +not told me she liked me better than anybody else? What did she mean? how +much did she mean? I knew that she spoke heedlessly at times--that she +possessed no intellectual discipline, no mental accuracy to measure the +force of her words. I knew, too, that coquetry and feminine instinct +impelled her to use her strongest weapons against any masculine adversary. +Yet, subtracting all these influences from her speech, it was still left +fraught with delicious meaning. I had no wish to wrong Jack, but my vanity +was tickled by the suggestion that I had something which was my own hidden +treasure. I found a line which suited the sentimental nature of my +thoughts. "The children of Alice call Bertram father." I used to repeat it +to myself with exquisite pain, and think of the time when I should see +Jack with his wife beside him, their children at their feet. "The children +of Alice call Bertram father." I was impressed with the deep romance of +common life, and wrote more bad verses at that period than I would have +confessed to my dearest friend. + +Harry Dart, who was the closest observer of our coterie, was not long in +making the discovery that I was despondent about something, and presently +taxed me with being in love with Georgy Lenox. I found myself terribly +vexed with him, and also with myself, but not on my own account. I could +not reply to his raillery. It seemed to me horribly unfair for him to +steal my shadow of a secret and then proclaim it aloud; but I was not so +badly off but that I could stand what he said about myself. In fact, I was +glad to be held up to ridicule, and, thus disillusionized, see my fault in +its true colors. It seemed to me unworthy of Harry to attack a defenceless +girl in this way, engaged, too, as she was to his cousin. Had I not known +him all my life as well as I knew myself, I should have suspected that +something underlay his malice--that she had injured him in some way, and +that he was ungenerous enough thus to gratify an unreasonable spite. + +Jack and I were out one evening, and returning entered our sitting-room +together, and found Harry there with two or three men not belonging to the +college, and among them Thorpe. It was evident to me that they changed +their subject as we entered, but the talk at once flowed again, and Harry +excelled as usual in quaint fancies, happy repartees and sharp flings at +all of us while he lay stretched out in my reclining-chair smoking before +the fire. Jack had evidently been to see Georgy, and looked dreamy and +content, and joined the circle instead of going at once to his books. +Thorpe made allusion once or twice to his pleasant abstraction, but Jack +was indifferent, and even after the visitors were gone he sat looking at +the fire with a sort of smile on his face. + +"Well, old fellow," said I after a time, "don't waste all that pleasant +material for dreams on yourself." + +He rose, stretched himself, and laughed in his soft, pleasant way. "I've +got three hours' hard work before me," he remarked, "and I had better go +at it at once." + +"Where have you been?" asked Harry dryly. + +"With Georgy," Jack answered unsuspiciously.--"Boys, I warn you against +being engaged while you have a demand for brains. I should like to dawdle +here before the fire until morning thinking of her." + +"Spare me!" exclaimed Harry cynically. "I have heard enough praise of Miss +Georgy for one evening. Ted Hutchinson was talking about her." And with a +burst of wrath he went on, retailing the gossip of the night: Ted knew +nothing of her engagement, and was wild about her--had sent her a bracelet +anonymously, and been thrilled with delight when she showed it to him on +her white arm, wondering who could have been so kind. Thorpe too had +collected various items of news about her. There was old Blake, a +widower--who ought to have known better, for he had three grown-up +children--sending her bouquets, driving her about the country and getting +boxes at the theatre. There was Bob Anderson, who had laid a wager that he +would-- + +"Stop, Harry," said Jack, his kind face very sober. "I do not think you +remember that you are talking to the man who has the honor to be engaged +to Miss Lenox." + +"I think the man who does her that honor ought to know the talk prevalent +among the fellows who meet her night after night and visit her day after +day." + +"It is a woman's misfortune that the men who are most at leisure to seek +her society are apt to be those who are least worthy to meet her on +intimate terms. The men who will use a woman's name freely in public are +men who will not hesitate to slander her." + +"I am not slandering her," cried Harry, starting up and facing Jack with a +white face and blazing eyes. "She has accepted a bracelet from Ted +Hutchinson. I know the very price he paid for it. Thorpe helped him to +choose it, and told Miss Lenox so next day." + +Jack's face puckered. "The bracelet will go back," he said in a low voice. + +Harry burst out laughing: "You will find that if she is to return her +_gages d'amour_, a good many fellows will be richer than they are to-day. +She will accept anything a man offers her; and a wise man does not give +jewels for nothing, Jack." + +I went out quietly. I had feared it would come to this, and since Harry +was determined to ease his mind to his cousin, it was better that none but +Holt's ears should burn with what he had to hear. I was not ignorant of +the talk that was going on; and perhaps it was better that Jack should +know a little of the weakness that lessened his darling in the eyes of +men. But I had not left them ten minutes before Jack opened the door of my +room and called me back. The sound of his voice startled me, and the sight +of his stern, cold face awed me somewhat, as it had awed Harry, who looked +at me uneasily as I came in. We all three stood regarding each other a +moment in silence, then Dart withdrew to the window and leaned against it, +his arms folded and his eyes downcast. + +"You heard the first of Harry's allegations against Miss Lenox," said +Holt, breaking the pause: "he has followed them up with accusations more +definite.--Harry, repeat what you just told me." + +Harry seemed quite crestfallen, "D----the business!" he muttered doggedly: +"it's none of my affair." + +"But you seem to have made it your affair," pursued Holt with calmness. "I +request you to repeat to Floyd what you said to me concerning him." + +"I said," exclaimed Harry recklessly, "that I knew Miss Lenox to be very +generous with certain favors which as a rule are reserved by +discriminating young ladies for their engaged lovers." + +"Go on: I do not call that a definite accusation." + +"I said," pursued Harry with a peculiar glance at me, "that I knew fellows +who had kissed her. Jack is bent on knowing the name of one of these +fellows, and I mentioned yours." + +I felt my face flame, and in spite of myself my eyes fell. + +"Tell me the truth, Floyd," said Jack gently. "Have you come between +Georgy and me as a lover of hers, winning away her regard for me?" + +"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed, "no, no, no! I never kissed Georgy but once, +and then I lay an almost hopeless cripple in my chair at Belfield, and she +kissed me as she would have kissed any other sick, miserable boy." + +Jack laughed, and his face cleared. "Oh, Harry," said he, "you foolish +fellow! to talk such nonsense!--I beg your pardon, Floyd, for seeming to +believe for a moment that you were not an honest friend of mine." We shook +hands.--"Come here, Harry," he went on with perfect good-nature: "I +promise to forgive and forget this talk of yours on condition that you do +not meddle in future between Georgy and me. You never liked her--you never +did her justice. Come, now, are you prepared to hold your tongue in +future?" + +Harry shrugged his broad shoulders. "Done!" said he, holding out his hand. +"I had no business to listen to Thorpe--less still to gossip to you--less +still to tell lies about Floyd here. I'm awfully ashamed of myself. Don't +lay it up against me." + +"I am a quiet fellow," said Jack, eying us both keenly--"I don't parade my +feelings--but there is no child's play in the regard I have for the girl +I love. I know her faults--I pity them: I hope, please God, to root them +out, for they are the fruit of an imperfect education and a false example. +She does not yet have the protection of my name, yet I should have hoped +that my friends would have respected me enough not to listen to any light +mention of the woman sacred to me above all others. I have no jealousy in +me, but if a man, friend or no friend, dared to come between me and the +girl I loved--" He broke off abruptly, and his clenched right hand opened +and shut. "Mark me," he added, controlling himself, "I have perfect faith +in Georgina. The one who tries to make me distrust her wastes his +breath.--Remember this, Harry. I have heard you once, and forgive you and +love you all the same, but my forbearance has its limits." He went into +his room and shut the door. + +The moment we were alone I turned on Harry. "What on earth did you mean?" +I demanded, half in anger, half in a stupefaction of surprise, at his +daring to calumniate me. + +"Lay on," said he, sinking into the nearest chair: "I richly deserve it. +But the truth was, I had already said too much. I knew that you were +behaving respectably, and could deny what I alleged; whereas in some other +cases we might have got shipwrecked upon grim facts." + +I stared at him: "Do you mean to say that you knew what you were talking +about?" + +He bowed his head. There was a dejected look about him: he glanced at his +watch, yawned and went to bed. + +Throughout the remainder of the term Georgy's name was not once spoken +among us, and Harry's affection and devotion to his cousin were touchingly +displayed. Men as they were, I have seen Harry on the arm of Jack's chair +talking to him with his hand over his shoulder. Dart was to sail for +Europe before commencement, and the cloud of separation seemed to lie upon +him heavily. + +ELLEN W. OLNEY. + +[TO BE CONTINUED.] + + + + +COMMUNISTS AND CAPITALISTS. + +A SKETCH FROM LIFE. + + +The Countess von Arno was Mr. Seleigman's confidential clerk. Not that +M---- smiled over any such paradox: the countess called herself simply +Mrs. von Arno. + +M---- is a picturesque town on the Mississippi, devoted in general to the +manufacture of agricultural implements. The largest plough-factory is +Seleigman's: he does business all over the world. A clerk who wrote +French, German and Italian fluently was a godsend. This clerk, moreover, +had an eminently concise and effective style, and displayed a business +capacity which the old German admired immensely. As much because of her +usefulness as the modest sum she was able to invest in the business, he +offered her a small share in it four years after she first came to M----. +She had come to M---- because Mrs. Greymer lived there. Therese Greymer +had known the countess from her school-days. When her husband died she +came back to her father's house, but spent her summers in Germany. Then +old Mr. Dare died suddenly, leaving Therese with her little brother to +care for, and only a few thousand dollars in the world. About this time +the countess separated from her husband. "So I am poor," said she, "but it +will go hard if I can't take care of you, Therese." Thus she became Mr. +Seleigman's clerk. M---- forgave her the clerkship, forgave her even her +undoubted success in making money, on account of Mrs. Greymer. It had +watched Therese grow from a slim girl, with black braids hanging down her +white neck as she sat in the "minister's pew" of the old brick church, +into a beautiful pale woman in a widow's bonnet. Therese went now every +Sunday to the same church where her father used to preach. The countess +accompanied her most decorously. She was a pagan at heart, but it pleased +Therese. In church she spent her time looking at her friend's profile and +calculating the week's sales. + +The countess had a day-dream: the dreams which most women have had long +ago been rudely broken for her, and the hopes which she cherished now had +little romance about them. She knew her own powers and how necessary she +was to Seleigman: some day she saw the firm becoming Seleigman & Von Arno, +the business widening, and the ploughs, with the yellow eagle on them, in +every great city of Europe. "Then," said the countess to herself, standing +one March morning, four years after she had first come to M----, by the +little dining-room window--"then we can perhaps persuade the workmen to +buy stock in the concern and have a few gleams of sense about profits and +wages." + +She lifted one arm above her head and rested her cheek against it. Otto +von Arno during his brief period of fondness had been used to call his +wife "his Scandinavian goddess." She was of the goddess type, tall, +fair-faced and stately, with thick, pale gold hair, and brown lashes +lifted in level lines from steady, deep gray eyes. "Pretty" seemed too +small a word for such a woman, yet "beautiful" conveys a hint of +tenderness; and Mrs. von Arno's face--it might be because of those steady +eyes--was rather a hard face, notwithstanding the soft pink and white of +her skin, and even the dimples that dented her cheek when she smiled. + +Now she was not smiling. The air was heavy with the damp chill of early +spring; and as the countess absently surveyed a gravel-walk bordered by +limp brown grasses and a line of trees dripping last night's frost through +the fog, she saw a woman's figure emerge from the shadows and come slowly +up the walk. She was poorly dressed, and walked to the kitchen-door, where +the countess could see her carefully wipe her feet before rapping. + +"That must be Bailey's wife," she thought: "I saw her waiting for him +yesterday when he came round to the shops for work.--William, my friend, +you are a nuisance." + +With this comment she went to the kitchen. Lettice, the maid-of-all-work, +was frying cakes in solitude. "Mrs. Greymer had taken Mrs. Bailey into the +library," she told the countess with significant inflections. + +The latter went to the library. It was a tiny, red-frescoed room fitted up +in black walnut. There were plants in the bay-window: Mrs. Greymer stood +among them, her soft gray wrapper falling in straight and ample folds +about her slender figure. Her face was turned toward the countess; a +loosened lock of black hair brushed the blue vein on her cheek; she held +some lilies-of-the-valley in her hand, and the gold of her wedding-ring +shone against the dark green leaves. + +"She looks like one of Fra Angelico's saints," thought the countess: "the +crimson lights are good too." + +She stood unnoticed in the doorway, leisurely admiring the picture. Mrs. +Bailey sat in the writing-chair on her right. Once, probably, she had been +a pretty woman, and she still had abundant wavy brown hair and large +dark-blue eyes with curling lashes; but she was too thin and faded and +narrow-chested for any prettiness now. Her calico gown was unstarched, +though scrupulously clean: she wore a thin blue-and-white summer shawl, +and her old straw bonnet was trimmed with a narrow blue ribbon pieced in +two places. Her voice was slightly monotonous, but low-keyed: as she spoke +her hands clasped and unclasped each other. The veins stood out and the +knuckles were enlarged, but they were rather white than otherwise. + +She went on with her story: "The children are so good, Mrs. Greymer; but +six of them, and me not over strong--it makes it hard. We hain't had +anything but corn meal in the house all this week, and the second-hand +woman says our things ain't worth the carting. The children have got so +shabby they hate to go to school, and the boys laugh at Willie 'cause his +hat's his pa's old one and ain't got no brim, though I bound it with the +best of the old braid, for I thought maybe they'd think it was a cap. And +the worst was this morning, when there was nothin' but just mush: we +hadn't even 'lasses, and the children cried. Oh, I didn't go to tell you +all this: you know I ain't a beggar. I've tried to live decent. Oh dear! +oh dear!" She tried to wipe away the tears which were running down her +thin cheeks with the tips of her fingers, but they came too fast. +Mechanically, she put her hand in her pocket, only to take it out empty. + +Mrs. Greymer slipped her own dainty handkerchief, which the countess had +embroidered, into the other's hand. "You ought to have come to me before, +Martha," she said reproachfully--"such an old friend as I am!" + +"'Tain't easy to have them as has known you when you were like folks see +you without even a handkerchief to cry on," said Mrs. Bailey. "If I'd +known where to turn for a loaf of bread, I'd not ha' come now; but I can't +see my children starve. And I ain't come to beg now. All we want is honest +work. William has been everywhere since they sent him away from Dorsey's +just because the men talked about striking, though they didn't strike. +He's been to all the machine-shops, but they won't take him: they say he +has too long a tongue for them, though he's as sober and steady a man as +lives, and there ain't a better workman in M----, or D---- either. William +is willing to do anything: he tried to get work on the streets, but the +street commissioner said he'd more men he'd employed for years asking work +than he knew what to do with. And I thought--I thought, Mrs. Greymer, if +you would only speak to Mrs. von Arno--" + +"Good-morning, Mrs. Bailey," said the countess, advancing. She had a +musical voice, clear and full, with a vibrating quality like the notes of +a violin--a very pleasant voice to hear, yet it hardly seemed reassuring +to the visitor. Unconsciously, she sat up straighter in her chair, her +nervous fingers plaiting the fringe of her shawl. + +"I heard you mention my name," the countess continued: "is there anything +you wish of me?" + +Therese came to Mrs. Bailey's assistance: "Her husband is out of work: +can't you do something with Mr. Seleigman, Helen? Bailey is a good +workman." + +"He is indeed, ma'am," added Bailey's wife eagerly, "and as sober and +faithful to his work: he never slights one bit." + +"I don't doubt it," said the countess gravely; "but, Mrs. Bailey, if we +were to take your husband on, and the union were to order a strike, even +though he were perfectly satisfied with his own wages, wouldn't he strike +himself, and do all he could to make the others strike?" Mrs. Bailey was +silent. + +"A strike might cost us thousands of dollars. Naturally, we don't want to +risk one; so we have no union-men. If Bailey will leave the union he may +go to hammering ploughshares for us to-morrow, and earn, with his skill, +twenty dollars a week." + +Mrs. Bailey's face worked. "'Tain't no use ma'am," she said desperately: +"he won't go back on his principles. He says it's the cause of Labor, and +he'll stick to it till he dies. You can't blame him, ma'am, for doing what +he thinks is right." + +"Perhaps not. But you see that it is impossible for us to employ your +husband. Isn't there something I can do for you yourself, though? Mrs. +Greymer tells me you sew very neatly." + +"Yes, I sew," said Mrs. Bailey in a dull tone, "but I'd be obliged to you, +ma'am, if you'd give me the work soon: I've a machine now, and I'll likely +not have it next week. There's ten dollars due on it, and the agent says +he'll have to take it back. I've paid fifty dollars on it, but this month +and lost times was so hard I couldn't pay." + +The countess put a ten-dollar bill in her hand. "Let me lend you this, +then," she said, unheeding the half shrinking of Mrs. Bailey's face and +attitude; and then she avoided all thanks by answering Lettice's summons +at the door. + +"Poor little woman!" she said to Mrs. Greymer at breakfast--"she didn't +half like to take it. She looked nearly starved too, though she ate so +little breakfast. How did you manage to persuade her to take that huge +bundle?" + +"She is a very brave little woman, Helen. I should like to tell you about +her," said Mrs. Greymer. + +"Until a quarter of eight my time is yours, and my sympathy, as usual, is +boundless." + +Mrs. Greymer smiled slightly. "I have known her for a great many years," +she said, disregarding the countess's last speech: "she went to school +with me, in fact. She was such a pretty girl then! Somehow, she took a +fancy to me, and used to help me with my Practical Arithmetic--" + +"So called because it is written in the most unpractical and +incomprehensible style: yes, I know it," interrupted the countess. + +"Martha was much brighter than I at it, anyhow, and used to do my +examples. She used to bring me the loveliest violets: she would walk all +the way over to the island for them. I remember I cried when her people +moved to Chicago and she left school. I didn't see her for almost ten +years: then I met her accidentally on Randolph street in Chicago. She knew +me, and insisted on my going out with her to see her home. It was in the +suburbs, and was a very pretty, tidy little place, with a garden in front, +where Martha raised vegetables, and a little plot for flowers. She was so +proud of it all and of her two pretty babies, and showed me her chickens +and her furniture and a picture of her husband. They had bought the house, +and were to pay for it in six years, but William was getting high wages, +and she had no fears. Poor Martha!" + +"Their Arcadia didn't last?" + +"No. William got interested in trades-unions: there was a strike, and he +was very prominent. He was out of work a long time, and Martha supported +the family by taking in sewing and selling the vegetables. Then her third +child was born, and she was sick for a long time afterward: she had been +working too hard, poor thing! His old employers took William on with the +rest of the men when the strike ended, but very soon found a pretext for +discharging him; and, in short, they used up all their little savings, and +the house went. William thought he had been ill-used, and became more +violent in his opinions." + +"A Communist, isn't he?" + +"I believe so. Martha with her three children couldn't go out to work, but +she is a model housekeeper, and she opened a little laundry with the money +she got from the sale of some of their furniture. William got work, but +lost it again, but Martha managed in a humble way to support the family +until William had an offer to come here; so they sold out the laundry to +get money to move." + +"Very idiotic of them." + +"After they came here they at first lived on Front street, which is near +the river, and Martha caught the chills and fever. William soon lost his +place, and they moved across the river to D----. He became known as a +speaker, and things have been going from bad to worse; the children have +come fast, and Martha has never really recovered from her fever; and they +have had simply an awfully hard time. I haven't seen Martha for three +months, and have tried in vain to find out where she lived. Poor Martha! +she has never complained, but it has been a hard life for her." + +"Yes, a hard life," repeated the countess, rising and putting on her +jacket; "but it seems to me she has chiefly her own husband to thank for +it. And six children! I have my opinion of Mr. William Bailey." + +"You are hardly just to Bailey, Helen: he has sacrificed his own interests +to his principles. He is as honest--as honest as the Christian martyrs, +though he _is_ an infidel." + +"The Christian martyrs always struck me as a singularly unpractical set of +people," said the countess. + +"Maybe: nevertheless, they founded a religion and changed the world. And, +Helen, you and the people like you laugh at Communism and the complaints +of the laboring classes, but it's like Samson and the Philistines; and +this Samson, blind though he is, will one day, unless we do something +besides laugh, pull the pillars down on his head--and on ours." + +"He will _try_" said the countess: "if we are wise, we shall be ready and +shoot him dead." She kissed Mrs. Greymer smilingly, and went away. Her +friend, watching her from the window, saw her stop to pat a great dog on +the head and give a little boy a nickel piece. + +One Sunday afternoon, two weeks later, the two friends crossed the bridge +to D---- to visit the Baileys. When they reached the end of the bridge +they paused a moment to rest. The day was one of those warm, bright spring +days which deceitfully presage an immediate summer. On the river-shore +crawfishes were lazily creeping over the gravel. The air rang with the +blue jay's chatter, a robin showed his tawny breast among the withered +grasses, and a flicker on a dead stump bobbed his little red-barred head +and fluttered his yellow wings. Beneath the bridge the swift current +sparkled in the sun. Over the river, on each side, rose the hills. The +gray stone of the government works was visible to the right through the +leafless trees: nearer, square, yellow and ugly, stood the old arsenal. A +soldier, musket on shoulder, marched along the river-edge: the cape of his +coat fluttered in the breeze and his slanting bayonet shone like silver. +Before them lay D----, the smoke from its mills and houses curling into +the pale blue air. + +The countess drew a long breath: she had a keen feeling for beauty. "Yes, +it is a lovely place," she said. "The hills are not high enough, but the +river makes amends for everything. But what are those hideous shanties, +Therese?" + +"Are they not hideous?" said Mrs. Greymer. "They are all pine, and it gets +such an ugly dirt-black when it isn't painted. The glass is broken out of +the windows and the shingles have peeled off the roofs. When it rains the +water drips through. In spring, when the river rises, it comes up to their +very doors: one spring it came in. It is not a nice place to live in." + +"Not exactly: still, I suppose people do live there." + +"Yes, the Baileys live there. You see, the rent is low." + +The countess lifted her eyebrows and followed Mrs. Greymer without +answering. Some sulky-looking men were smoking pipes on the doorsteps, and +a few women, whose only Sunday adorning seemed to have been plastering +their hair down over their cheeks with a great deal of water, gossiped at +the corner. Half a dozen children were playing on the river-bank. + +"They fall in every little while," Therese explained, "they are so small, +and most of the mothers here go out washing. This is the Baileys'." + +William Bailey answered the knock. He was a tall man, who carried his +large frame with a kind of muscular ease. He had a square, gray-whiskered +face with firm jaws and mild light-blue eyes. The hair being worn away +from his forehead made it seem higher than it really was. He wore his +working clothes and a pair of very old boots cut down into slippers. The +only stocking he had was in his hand, and he appeared to have been darning +it. Close behind him came his wife, holding the baby. The bright look of +recognition on her face at the sight of Mrs. Greymer faded when she +perceived the countess. Rather stiffly she invited them to enter. + +The room was small and most meanly furnished, but it was clean. The walls +were dingy beyond the power of soap and water to change, but the floor had +been scrubbed, and what glass there was in the windows had been washed. +There were occasional holes in the ceiling and walls where the plaster had +given way: out of one of these peered the pointed nose and gleaming eyes +of a great rat. Judging from sundry noises she heard, the countess +concluded there were many of these animals under the house, though what +they found to live on was a puzzle; but they ate a little of the children +now and then, and perhaps the hope of more sustained them. A pale little +boy was lying on a mattress in the corner covered with a faded +blue-and-white shawl. + +Therese had mysteriously managed to dispose of the basket she had brought +before she went up to him and kissed him, saying, "I am sorry to see +Willie is still sick." + +"Yes," said Bailey, smiling bitterly. "The doctor says he needs dry air +and exercise: it's damp here." + +"Tommy More has promised to lend us his cart, and Susie will take him on +the island," Mrs. Bailey said hastily; "it's real country there." + +"But you have to have a pass," answered Bailey in a low tone. + +"Any one can get a pass," said the countess; "but if you prefer I will ask +the colonel to-day, and he will send you one to-morrow." + +For the first time Bailey fairly looked the countess in the face: his +brows contracted, he opened his lips to speak. + +"Oh, papa," cried the boy in a weak voice trembling with eagerness, "the +island is _splendid_! Tommy's father works there, and they's cannon and a +foundry and a _live eagle_!" + +"Yes, Willie dear," said his father as he laid his brown hand gently on +the boy's curls. He inclined his head toward the countess. "I'll thank +you," he said gravely. + +The countess picked up a pamphlet from the table, more to break the +uncomfortable pause which followed than for any other reason. "Do you like +this?" she said, hardly reading the title. + +"I believe it," said Bailey: "I am a Communist myself." He drew himself up +to his full height as he spoke: there was a certain suppressed defiance in +his attitude and expression. + +"Are you?" said the countess. "Why?" + +"Why?" cried Bailey. "Look at me! I'm a strong man, and willing to do any +kind of work. I've worked hard for sixteen year: I've been sober and +steady and saving. Look what all that work and saving has brought me! This +is a nice place for a decent man and his family to live in, ain't it? +Them walls ain't clean? No, because scrubbing can't make 'em. The grime's +in the plaster: yes, and worse than grime--vermin and disease sech as +'tain't right for me to mention even to ladies like you, but it's right +enough for sech as us to live in. Yes, by G---! to _die_ in!" He was a man +who spoke habitually in a low voice, and it had not grown louder, but the +veins on his forehead swelled and his eyes began to glow. + +"It is hard, truly," said the countess. "Whose fault is it?" + +"Whose fault?" Bailey repeated her words vehemently, yet with something of +bewilderment. "Society's fault, which grinds a poor man to powder, so as +to make a rich man richer. But the people won't stand this sort of thing +for ever." + +"You would have a general division of property, then?" + +"Indirectly, yes. Power must be taken from bloated corporations and given +to the people; the railroads must be taken by government; accumulation of +capital over a limited amount must be forbidden; men must work for +Humanity, and not for their selfish interests." + +"Do you know any men who are working so?" + +"I know a few." + +"Mostly workingmen?" + +"All workingmen." + +"Don't you think a general division of property would be for _their_ +selfish interests?" + +"I don't call it selfish to ask for just a decent living." + +"I fancy the chiefs of your party would demand a great deal more than a +bare decent living. Mr. Bailey, the rights of property rest on just this +fact in human nature: A man will work better for himself than he will for +somebody else. And you can't get him to work unless he is guaranteed the +fruits of his labor. Capital is brain, and Labor is muscle, but the brain +has as much to do with the creation of wealth as muscle: more, for it can +invent machines and do without muscle, while muscle cannot do without +brain. You can't alter human nature, Mr. Bailey. If you had a Commune, +every man would be for himself there as he is here: the weak would have +less protection than even now, for all the restraints of morality, which +are bound up inseparably with rights of property, would have been thrown +aside. Marx and Lasallis and Bradlaugh, clever as they are, can't prevent +the survival of the fittest. You knock your head against a stone wall, Mr. +Bailey, when you fight society. You have been knocking it all your life, +and now you are angry because your head is hurt. If you had never tried to +strip other men of their earnings because you fancied you ought to have +more, as skilful a blacksmith as you would have saved money and been a +capitalist himself. Supposing you give it up? Our firm will give you a +chance to make ploughshares and earn twenty dollars a week if you will +only promise not to strike us in return the first chance you get." + +The workingman had listened with a curling lip. "Do you mean that for an +offer?" he said in a smothered voice. + +"I mean it for an offer, certainly." + +"Oh, William!" cried his wife, turning appealing eyes up to his face. + +He grew suddenly white, and brought his clenched hand heavily down on the +table. The dishes rattled with the jar, and the baby, scared at the noise, +began to scream. "Then," said Bailey, "you may just understand that a man +ain't always a sneak if he _is_ poor; and you can be glad you ain't a man +that's tempting me to turn traitor." + +"I am sure my friend didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Mrs. Greymer +explained quickly, giving the countess that expressive side-glance which +much more plainly than words says, "Now you _have_ done it!" Mrs. Bailey +was walking up and down soothing the baby: the little boy looked on +open-eyed. + +"I am sorry if I have said anything which has seemed like an insult," said +the countess: "I certainly didn't intend one. Perhaps after you have +thought it all over you will feel differently. You know where to find me. +Good-evening." + +She held out her hand, which Bailey did not seem to see, smiled on the +little boy and went out, leaving Mrs. Greymer behind. + +A little girl with pretty brown curls and deep-blue eyes was making +sand-caves on the shore. The countess spoke to her in passing, and left +her staring at her two hands, which were full of silver coin. At the +bridge the countess paused to wait for her friend. She saw her come out, +attended by Mrs. Bailey: she saw Mrs. Bailey watch her, saw the little +girl give her mother the money, and then she saw the woman, still carrying +her baby in her arms, walk slowly down the river-bank to where a boat lay +keel uppermost like a great black arrowhead on the sand. Here she sat +down, and, clasping the child closer, hid her face in its white hair. + +"And, upon my soul, I believe she is crying," said the spectator, who +stopped at the commandant's house and obtained the pass before she went +home. + +On Monday, Mrs. Greymer proposed asking little Willie Bailey to spend a +week with them. The countess assented, merely saying, "You must take the +little skeleton to drive every day, and send the livery-bills to me." + +"Then I shall drive over this afternoon if Freddy's sore throat is +better," said Mrs. Greymer. + +But she did not go: Freddy's sore throat was worse instead of better, and +his sister had enough to do for some days fighting off diphtheria. So it +happened that it was a week before she was able to go to D----. She found +the Baileys' door swinging on its hinges, and a high-stepping hen of +inquisitive disposition investigating the front room: the Baileys had +gone. + +"They went to Chicago four days ago," an amiable neighbor explained: "they +didn't say what fur. The little boy he cried 'cause he wanted to go on the +island fust. Guess _he_ ain't like to live long: he's a weak, pinin' +little chap." + +Only once did Therese hear from Mrs. Bailey. The letter came a few days +after her useless drive to D----. It was dated Chicago, and expressed +simply but fervently her gratitude for all Mrs. Greymer's kindness. +Enclosed were three one-dollar bills, part payment, the writer said, "of +my debt to Mrs. von Arno, and I hope she won't think I meant to run away +from it because I can't just now send more." There was no allusion to her +present condition or her prospects for the future. Mrs. Greymer read the +letter aloud, then held out the bills to the countess. + +She pushed them aside as if they stung her. "What does the woman think I +am made of?" she exclaimed. "Why, it's hideous, Therese! Write and tell +her I never meant her to pay me." + +"I am afraid the letter won't reach her," said Mrs. Greymer. + +Nor did it: in due course of time Therese received her own letter back +from the Dead-Letter Office. The words of interest and sympathy, the plans +and encouragement, sounded very oddly to her then, for, as far as they +were concerned, Martha Bailey's history was ended. It was in July the +countess had met them again. She was in Chicago. Otto was dead. He had +given back to his wife by his will the property which had come to him +through her: whether because of a late sense of justice or a dislike to +his heir, a distant cousin who wrote theological works and ate with his +knife, the countess never ventured to decide. The condition of part of +this property, which was in Chicago, had obliged her to go there. She +arrived on the evening of the fifteenth of July--a day Chicago people +remember because the great railroad strike of 1877 reached the city that +day. + +The countess found the air full of wild rumors. Stories of shops closed by +armed men, of vast gatherings of Communists on the North Side, of robbery, +bloodshed and--to a Chicago ear most blood-curdling whisper of all--of a +contemplated second burning of the city, flew like prairie-fire through +the streets. + +The countess's lawyer, whom she had visited very early on Thursday +morning, insisted on accompanying her from his office to her friend's +house on the North Side. On Halstead street their carriage suddenly +stopped. Putting her head out of the window, the countess perceived that +the coachman had drawn up close to the curbstone to avoid the onset of a +yelling mob of boys and men armed with every description of weapon, from +laths and brickbats to old muskets. The boys appeared to regard the whole +affair as merely a gigantic "spree," and shouted "Bread or Blood!" with +the heartiest enthusiasm; but the men marched closer, in silence and with +set faces. The gleaming black eyes, sharp features and tangled black hair +of half of them showed their Polish or Bohemian blood. The others were +Norwegians and Germans, with a sprinkling of Irish and Americans. Their +leader was a tall man whom the countess knew. He had turned to give an +order when she saw him. At that same instant a shabby woman ran swiftly +from a side street and tried to throw her arms about the man's neck. He +pushed her aside, and the crowd swept them both out of sight. + +"I think I have seen a woman I know," said the countess composedly; "and +do you know, Mr. Wilder, that our horses have gone? Our Communist friends +prefer riding to walking, it seems." They were obliged to get out of the +carriage. The countess looked up and down the street, but saw no trace of +the woman. Apparently, she had followed the mob. + +By this time some small boys, inspired by the occasion, had begun to show +their sympathy with oppressed labor by pelting the two well-dressed +strangers with potatoes and radishes, which they confiscated from a +bloated capitalist of a grocer on the corner. The shower was so thick that +Mr. Wilder was relieved when they reached the Halstead street +police-station, where they sought refuge. Here they passed a sufficiently +exciting hour. They could hear plainly the sharp crack of revolvers and +the yells and shouts of the angry mob blending in one indistinguishable +roar. Once a barefooted boy ran by, screaming that the police were driven +back and the Communists were coming. Then a troop of cavalry rode up the +street on a sharp trot, their bridles jingling and horses' hoofs +clattering. The roar grew louder, ebbed, swelled again, then broke into a +multitude of sounds--screams, shouts and the tumultuous rush of many feet. + +A polite sergeant opened the door of the little room where the countess +was sitting to inform her the riot was over. They were just bringing in +some prisoners: he was very sorry, but one of them would have to come in +there. He was a prominent rioter whom they had captured trying to bring +off the body of his wife, who had been killed by a chance shot. It would +be only for a short time: the gentleman had gone for a carriage. He hoped +the lady wouldn't mind. + +The lady, who had changed color slightly, said she should not mind. The +sergeant held the door back, and some men brought in something over which +had been flung an old blue-and-white shawl. They carried it on a shutter, +and the folds of a calico dress, torn and trampled, hung down over the +side. + +Then came two policemen, pushing after the official manner a man covered +with dust and blood. + +"Bailey!" exclaimed the countess. Their eyes met. + +Bailey bent his head toward the table where the men had laid their burden. +"Lift that," he said hoarsely. + +The countess lifted the shawl with a steady hand. There was an old white +straw bonnet flattened down over the forehead; a wisp of blue ribbon +string was blown across the face and over the red smear between the +eyebrow and the hair; the eyes stared wide and glassy. But it was the same +soft brown hair. The countess knew Martha Bailey. + +"There was women and children on the sidewalk, but they fired right into +us," said Bailey. He spoke in a monotonous, dragging voice, as though +every word were an effort. "They killed her. I asked you to give me work +in your shop, and you wouldn't do it. Here's the end of it. Now you can go +home and say your prayers." + +"I don't say prayers," answered the countess, "and you know I offered you +work. But don't let us reproach each other here. Where are your children?" + +"Ain't you satisfied with what you have done already?" said Bailey. "Leave +me alone: you'd better." + +"Gently now!" said one of the policemen. + +"Whatever you may think of me," said the countess quietly, "you know Mrs. +Greymer was always your wife's friend. We only wanted to help her." + +Bailey shook off the grasp of the policemen as though it had been a +feather: with one great stride he reached the countess and caught her +roughly by the wrist. "Look at _her_, will you?" he cried: "you and the +likes of you, with your smooth cant, have killed her! You crush us and +starve us till we turn, and then you shoot us down like dogs. Leave my +children alone." + +"None of that, my man!" said the sergeant. + +The two policemen would have pulled Bailey away, but the countess stopped +them. She had turned pale even to her lips, but she did not wince. + +"Curse you!" groaned the Communist, flinging his arms above his head; +"curse a society which lets such things be! curse a religion--" + +The policemen dragged him back. "You'd better go, I think, ma'am," said +the sergeant: "the man's half crazy with the sun and fighting and grief." + +"You are right," said the countess. She stopped at the station-door to put +a bill in the policeman's hands: "You will find out about the children and +let me know, please." + +Mr. Wilder, who had been standing in the doorway, an amazed witness of the +whole scene, led her out to the carriage. "He's a bad fellow, that +rioter," he said as they drove along. + +The countess pulled her cuff over a black mark on her wrist. "No, he is +not half a bad fellow," she answered, "but for all that he has murdered +his wife." + +Nor has she ever changed her opinion on that point; neither, so far as is +known, has William Bailey changed his. + +OCTAVE THANET. + + + + +AT FRIENDS' MEETING. + + + Sunshine and shadow o'er unsculptured walls + Hang tremulous curtains, radiant and fair; + The breath of summer perfumes all the air; + Afar the wood-bird trills its tender calls. + More eloquent than chanted rituals, + Subtler than odors swinging censers bear, + Purer than hymn of praise or passionate prayer, + The silence, like a benediction, falls. + The still, slow moments softly slip along + The endless thread of thought: a holy throng + Of memories, long prisoned, find release. + The sacred sweetness of the hour has lent + These quiet faces, calm with deep content, + And one world-weary soul alike, the light of peace. + +SUSAN M. SPALDING. + + + + +LETTERS FROM MAURITIUS.--I. + +BY LADY BARKER. + + +EASTER SUNDAY, April 21, 1878. + +"How's her head, Seccuni?"--"Nor'-nor'-east, quarter east, saar." Such had +been the question often asked, at my impatient prompting, of the placid +Lascar quartermaster during the past fortnight. And the answer generally +elicited a sigh from the good-natured captain of the Actaea, a sigh which I +reproduced with a good deal of added woe in its intonation and a slight +dash of feminine impatience. For this easterly bearing was all wrong for +us. "Anything from the south would do," but not a puff seemed inclined to +come our way from the south. Seventeen days ago we scraped over the bar at +the mouth of D'Urban harbor, spread our sails, and fled away before a fair +wind toward the north end of Madagascar, meaning to leave it on the +starboard bow and so fetch "L'Ile Maurice, ancienne Ile de France," as it +is still fondly styled. The fair wind had freshened to a gale a day or two +later, and bowled us along before it, and we had made a rapid and +prosperous voyage so far. Sunny days and cold, clear, starry nights had +come and gone amid the intense and wonderful loveliness of these strange +seas. Not a sail had we passed, not a gull had been seen, scarcely a +porpoise. But now this radiant Easter Sunday morning finds us almost +becalmed on the eastern side of Mauritius, with what air is stirring dead +ahead, but only coming in a cat's-paw now and then. Except for one's +natural impatience to drop anchor it would have been no penance to loiter +on such a day, and so make it a memory which would stand out for ever in +bold relief amid the monotony of life. "A study of color" indeed--a study +in wonderful harmonies of vivid blues and opalesque pinks, amethysts and +greens, indigoes and lakes, all the gem-like tints breaking up into +sparkling fragments every moment, to reset themselves the next instant in +a new and exquisite combination. The tiny island at once impresses me with +a respectful admiration. What nonsense is this the geography-books state, +and I have repeated, about Mauritius being the same size as the Isle of +Wight? Absurd! Here is a bold range of volcanic-looking mountains rising +up grand and clear against the beautiful background of a summer sky, on +whose slopes and in whose valleys, green down to the water's edge, lie +fertile stretches of cultivation. We are not near enough to see whether +the pale shimmer of the young vegetation is due to grass or waving +cane-tops. Bold ravines are cut sharply down the mountainous sides and +lighted up by the silvery glint of rushing water, and the breakers, for +all the mirror-like calm of the sea out here, a couple of miles from +shore, are beating the barrier rocks and dashing their snow aloft with a +dull thud which strikes on the ear in mesmeric rhythm. Yes, it is quite +the fairest scene one need wish to rest wave-worn and eager eyes upon, and +it is still more beautiful if you look over the vessel's side. The sea is +of a Mediterranean blue, and is literally alive with fish beneath, and +lovely sea-creatures floating upon, the sunlit water. It appears as if one +could see down to unknown depths through that clear sapphire medium, +breaking up here and there into pale blue reflections which are even more +enchanting than its intense tints. Fishes, apparently of gold and +rose-color or of a radiant blue barred and banded with silver, dart, +plunge and chase each other after the fragments of biscuit we throw +overboard. Films of crystal and ruby oar themselves gently along the upper +surface or float like folded sea-flowers on the motionless water. A flock +of tiny sea-mews, half the size of the fish, are screaming shrilly and +darting down on the shoal; but as for their catching them, the idea is +preposterous, for the fish are twice as big as the birds. + +Still, we want to get on: we sadly want to beat another barque which +started a couple of hours after us from Natal, and we are barely drifting +a knot an hour. It is not in the least too hot. D'Urban was very sultry +when we left, but I have been shivering ever since in my holland gown, +thinking fondly and regretfully of serge skirts and a sealskin jacket down +in the hold. It may be safely taken as an axiom in travelling that you +seldom suffer from cold more than in what are supposed to be hot climates, +and the wary _voyageuse_ will never separate herself hopelessly from her +winter wraps, even when steering to tropical lands. In spite of all my +experience, I am often taken in on this point, and I should have perished +from cold during this voyage as we got farther south if it had not been +for the friendly presence of a rough Scotch plaid. Even the days were cold +on deck out of the sun, and the long nights--for darkness treads close on +the heels of sunset in the winter months of these latitudes--would have +indeed been nipping without warm wraps. + +But no one thinks of wraps this balmy Easter Sunday. It is delicious as to +temperature, only we are in an ungrateful hurry, and the stars find us +scarcely a dozen miles from where they left us. I sit up to see myself +safe through the narrow passage between Flat Island and Round Island, and +fall asleep at last to the monotonous chant of so many "fathoms and no +bottom," for we take soundings every five minutes or so in this reefy +region. An apology for wind gets up at last, which takes us round the +north end of the island, and we creep up to the outer anchorage of Port +Louis, on its western shore, slowly but safely in that darkest hour before +dawn. + +Bad news travels fast, they say, and some one actually took the trouble of +getting out of his bed and rowing out to us as soon as our anchor was down +to tell us, with apparently great satisfaction, that we had lost our race, +and that we should have to go into quarantine with the earliest dawn. +Having awakened all the sleepers with this soothing intelligence, and +called up a host of bitter feelings of rage and disappointment in the +heart of every one on board, this friendly voice bade us good-night, and +the owner rowed away into the gloom around, apparently at peace with +himself and all the world. + +How can I set forth the indignation we all felt to be put in quarantine +because of a little insignificant epidemic of fever at D'Urban, in coming +to a place noted as a hotbed of every variety of fever? If it was measles, +or even chicken-pox, we declared we could have understood it. But _fever_! +This sentiment was found very comforting, and it was a great +disappointment to find how little convincing it appeared to the +authorities. However, the anticipation proved to have been much worse than +the reality, for as we were all perfectly well, and had been so ever since +leaving D'Urban, the quarantine laws became delightfully elastic, and in a +couple of days or so the yellow flag was hauled down, and a more gay and +cheerful bit of bunting proclaimed to our friends on shore that we were no +longer objects of fear and aversion. + +In two minutes F---- is on board, and in two minutes more I am in a boat +alongside, being swiftly rowed to the flat shore of Port Louis through a +crowd of shipping, for the fine harbor of the little island seems to +attract to itself an enormous number of vessels. From Calcutta and China, +Ceylon and Madras, Pondicherry, London, Marseilles, the Cape, Callao and +Bordeaux, and from many a port besides, vessels of all varieties of rig +and tonnage come hither. + +In the daytime, as I now see it for the first time, Port Louis is indeed a +crowded and busy place, and its low-pitched warehouses and +unpretending-looking buildings hold many and many thousand tons of +miscellaneous merchandise coming in or going out. But at sunset an exodus +of all the white and most of the creole inhabitants sets in, leaving the +dusty streets and dingy buildings to watchmen and coolies and dogs. It is +quite curious to notice, as I do directly, what a horror the English +residents have of sleeping even one single night in Port Louis; and this +dread certainly appears to be well founded if even half the stories one +hears be true. Some half dozen officials, whose duties oblige them to be +always close to the harbor, contrive, however, to live in the town, but +they nearly all give a melancholy report of the constant attacks of fever +they or their families suffer from. + +Certainly, at the first glance, Port Louis is not a prepossessing place to +live, or try to live, in. I will say nothing of the shabby shops, the +dilapidated-looking dwellings, one passes in a rapid drive through the +streets, because I know how deceitful outside appearances are as to the +internal resources or comforts of a tropical town. Those dingy shops may +hold excellent though miscellaneous goods in their dark recesses, and +would be absolutely unbearable to either owner or customer if they were +lighted with staring plate-glass windows. Nor would it be possible to +array tempting articles in gallant order behind so hot and glaring a +screen, for no shade or canvas would prevent everything from bleaching +white in a few hours. As for the peeled walls of house and garden, no +stucco or paint can stand many weeks of tropical sun and showers. +Everything gets to look blistered or washed out directly after it has been +renovated, and great allowances must be made for these shortcomings so +patent to the eye of a fresh visitor. What I most regretted in Port Louis +was its low-lying, fever-haunted situation. It looks marked out as a +hotbed of disease, and the wonder to me is, not that it should now and for +ten years past have the character of being a nest for breeding fevers, but +that there ever should have been a time when illness was not rife in such +a locality. Sheltered from anything like a free circulation of air by +hills rising abruptly from the seashore, swampy by nature, crowded to +excess by thousands of emigrants from all parts of the coast added to its +own swarming population, it seems little short of marvellous that even by +day Europeans can contrive to exist there long enough to carry on the +enormous trade which comes and goes to and from its harbor. Yet they do +so, and on the whole manage very well by avoiding exposure to the sun and +taking care to sleep out of the town. This is rendered possible to all by +an admirable system of railways, which are under government control, and +will gradually form a perfect network over the island. The engineering +difficulties of these lines must have been great, and it is an appalling +sight to witness a train in motion. So hilly is the little island that if +the engine is approaching the chances are it looks as if it were about to +plunge wildly down on its head and turn a somersault into the station, or +else it seems to be gradually climbing up a steep gradient after the +fashion of a fly on the wall. But everything appears well managed, and the +dulness of the daily press is never enlivened by accounts of a railway +accident. + +For two or three miles out of Port Louis the country is still flat and +marshy, and ugly to the last degree--not the ugliness of bareness and trim +neatness, but overgrown, dank and mournful, for all its teeming life. By +the roadside stand, here and there, what once were handsome and hospitable +mansions, but are now abodes of desolation and decay. The same sad story +may be told of each--how their owners, well-born descendants of old French +families, flourished there, amid their beautiful flowers, in health and +happiness for many a long day until the fatal "fever year" of 1867, when +half the families were carried off by swift death, and the survivors +wellnigh ruined by hurricanes and disasters of all sorts. Poor little +Mauritius has certainly passed through some very hard times, but she has +borne them bravely and pluckily, and is now reaping her reward in +returning prosperity. Sharp as has been the lesson, it is something for +her inhabitants to have learned to enforce better sanitary laws, and there +is little fear now but that their eyes have been opened to the importance +of health regulations. + +One effect of the epidemic which desolated Port Louis has been the +creation of the prettiest imaginable suburbs or settlements within eight +or ten miles of the town. These districts have the quaintest French +names--Beau Bassin, Curepipe, Pamplemousse, Flacq, Moka, and so forth, +with the English name of "Racehill" standing out among them in cockney +simplicity. My particular suburb is the nearest and most convenient from +which F---- can compass his daily official duties, but I am not entitled +to boast of an elevation of more than eight hundred feet. Still, there is +an extraordinary difference in the temperature before we have climbed to +even half that height, and we turn out of a green lane bordered by thick +hedges of something exactly like English hawthorn into a wind-swept +clearing on the borders of a deep ravine where stands a bungalow-looking +dwelling rejoicing in the name of "The Oaks." It might much more +appropriately have been called "The Palms," for I can't see an oak +anywhere, whilst there are some lovely graceful trees with rustling giant +leaves on the lawn; but I cannot look beyond the wide veranda, where Zulu +Jack is waiting to welcome me with the old musical cry of "Jakasu-casa!" +and my little five-o'clock tea-table arranged, just as I used to have it +in Natal, on the shady side of the house. Yes, it is home at last, and +very homelike and comfortable it all looks after the tossing, changing +voyaging of the past two months, for I have come a long way round. + + +BEAU BASSIN, May 21st. + +I feel as if I had lived here all my life, although it is really more +unlike the ordinary English colony than it is possible to imagine; and yet +(as the walrus said to the carpenter) this "is scarcely odd," because it +is not an English colony at all. It is thoroughly and entirely French, and +the very small part of the habits of the people which is not French is +Indian. The result of more than a century of civilization, and of the +teachings of many colonists, not counting the Portuguese discoverers early +in the sixteenth century, is a mixed but very comfortable code of manners +and customs. One has not here to struggle against the ignorance and +incapacity of native servants. The clever, quick Indian has learned the +polish and elegance of his French masters, and the first thing which +struck me was the pretty manners of the native--or, as they are called, +creole--inhabitants. Everybody has a "Bon soir!" or a "Salaam!" for us as +we pass them in our twilight walks, and the manners of the domestic +servants are full of attention and courtesy. Mauritius first belonged to +the Dutch (for the Portuguese did not attempt to colonize it), who seem to +have been bullied out of it by pirates and hurricanes, and who finally +gave it up as a thankless task about the year 1700. A few years later the +French, having a thriving colony next door at Bourbon, sent over a +man-of-war and "annexed," unopposed, the pretty little island. But there +were all sorts of difficulties to overcome in those early days, and it was +not even found possible--from mismanagement of course--to make the place +pay its own working expenses. Then came the war with England at the +beginning of this century; and that made things worse, for of course we +tried to get hold of it, and there were many sharp sea-fights off its +lovely shores, until, after a gallant defence, a landing was effected by +the English, who took possession of it somewhere about 1811. Still, it +does not seem to have been of much use to them, for the French inhabitants +naturally made difficulties and declined to take the oath of allegiance; +so that it was not until the great settling-day--or rather year--of 1814, +when Louis XVIII. "came to his own again" and definitively ceded Mauritius +to the British, that we began to set to work, aided by the inhabitants +with right good-will, to develop and make the most of its enormous natural +resources. + +I really believe Mauritius stands alone in the whole world for variety of +scenery, of climate and of productions within the smallest imaginable +space. It might be a continent looked at through reversed opera-glasses +for the ambitious scale of its mountains, its ravines and its waterfalls. +When once you leave the plains behind--it is all on such a toy scale that +you do this in half an hour--you breathe mountain-air and look down deep +gorges and cross wide, rushing rivers. Of course the sea is part of every +view. If it is lost sight of for five minutes, there is nothing to do but +go on a few yards and turn a corner to see it again, stretching wide and +blue and beautiful out to the horizon. As for the length and breadth of +the island representing its area, the idea is wildly wrong. The acreage is +enormous in proportion to this same illusory length and breadth, which +very soon fades out of the newcomer's mind. One confusing effect of the +hilly nature of the ground is that one dwarfs the relative length of +distances, and gets to talk of five miles as a long way off. At first I +used to say--rather impertinently, I confess--"Surely nothing can be very +far away here!" but I have learned better already in this short month, and +recognize that even three miles constitute something of a drive. And the +chances are--nay, the certainty is--that three miles in any direction will +show you a greater variety of beautiful scenery than the same distance +over any other part of the habitable globe. The only expression I can find +to describe Mauritius to myself is one I used to hear my grandmother use +in speaking of a pretty girl who chanced to be rather _petite_. "She is a +pocket Venus," the old lady would say; and so I find myself calling L'Ile +Maurice a pocket Venus among islets. + +This is the beginning of the cool season, which lasts till November; and +really the climate just now is very delightful. A little too windy, +perhaps, for my individual taste, but that is owing to the rather exposed +situation of my house. The trade winds sweep in from the south-east, and +very nearly blow me and my possessions out of the drawing-room. Still, it +would be the height of ingratitude to quarrel with such a healthy, +refreshing gale, and I try to avoid the remorse which I am assured will +overtake me in the hot season if I grumble now. Of course it is hot in the +sun, but ladies need seldom or never expose themselves to it. The +gentlemen are armed, when they go out, with white umbrellas, and keep as +much as possible out of the fierce heat. At night it is quite cold, and +one or even two blankets are indispensable; yet this is by no means one of +the coolest situations in the island, though it bears an excellent +character for healthiness. Of course I can only tell you this time of what +lies immediately around me, for I have hardly strayed five miles from my +own door since I arrived. There is always so much to do in settling one's +self in a new home. This time, I am bound to say, the difficulties have +been reduced to a minimum, not only from the prompt kindness and +helpfulness of my charming neighbors, but because I found excellent +servants ready to my hand, instead of needing to go through the laborious +process of training them. The cooks are very good--better indeed than the +food material, which is not always of the best quality. The beef is +imported from Madagascar, and is thin and queerly butchered, but presents +itself at table in a sufficiently attractive form: so do the long-legged +fowls of the island. But the object of distrust is always the mutton, +which is more often goat, and consequently tough and rank: when it is only +kid one can manage it, but the older animal is beyond me. Vegetables and +fruit are abundant and delicious, and I have tasted very nice fish, though +they do not seem plentiful. Nor is the actual cost of living great for +what is technically called "bazaar"--_i.e.,_ home-grown--articles of daily +food. Indeed, such things are cheap, and a few rupees go a long way in +"bazaar." The moment you come to _articles de luxe_ from England or +France, then, indeed, you must reckon in dollars, or even piastres, for it +sounds too overwhelming in rupees. Wine is the exception which proves the +rule in this case, and every one drinks an excellent, wholesome light +claret which is absurdly and delightfully cheap, and which comes straight +from Bordeaux. Ribbons, clothes, boots and gloves, all things of that +sort, are also expensive, but not unreasonably so when the enormous cost +of carriage is taken into account. Everything comes by the only direct +line of communication with England, in the "Messageries Maritimes," which +is a swift but costly mode of transmission. Still, all actual necessaries +are cheap and plentiful in spite of the teeming population one sees +everywhere. + +In our daily evening walk we cut off a corner through the bazaar, and it +is most amusing to see and hear the representatives of all the countries +of the East laughing, jangling and chatting in their own tongues, and +apparently all at once. Besides Indians from each presidency, there are +crowds of Chinese, Cingalese, Malabars, Malagask, superadded to the creole +population. They seem orderly enough, though perhaps the police reports +could tell a different tale. If only the daylight would last longer in +these latitudes, where exercise is only possible after sundown! However +early we set forth, the end of the walk is sure to be accomplished +stumblingly in profound darkness. Happily, there are no snakes or +poisonous reptiles of any sort, nor have I yet seen anything more +personally objectionable than a mosquito. I rather owe a grudge, though, +to a little insect called the mason-fly, which has a perfect passion for +running up mud huts (compared to its larger edifices on the walls and +ceiling) on my blotting-books and between the leaves of my pet volumes. +The white ants are the worst insect foe we have, and the stories I hear of +their performances would do credit to the Arabian Nights. I have already +learned to consider as pets the little soft brown lizards which emerge +from behind the picture-frames at night as soon as ever the lamps are lit. +They come out to catch the flies on the ceiling, and stalk their prey in +the cleverest and stealthiest fashion. Occasionally, however, they quarrel +with each other, and have terrific combats over head, with the invariable +result of a wriggling inch of tail dropping down on one's book or paper. +This cool weather is of course the time when one is freest from insect +visitors, and I have not yet seen any butterflies. A stray grasshopper, +with green wings folded exactly like a large leaf, or an inquisitive +mantis, blunders on to my writing-table occasionally, but not often enough +to be anything but welcome. As my sitting-room may be said, speaking +architecturally, to consist merely of a floor and ceiling, there is no +reason why all the insects in the island should not come in at any one of +its seven open doors (I have no windows) if they choose. + +The houses are very pretty, however, in spite of their being all doorway. +The polished floors--unhappily, mine are painted _red_, which is a great +sorrow to me--the large rooms, with nice furniture and a wealth of +flowers, give a look of great comfort and elegance to the interior. The +wide, low verandas are shaded on the sunny side by screens or blinds of +ratan painted green, and from the ceiling dangle baskets, large baskets, +filled with every imaginable variety of fern. I never saw anything like +the beauty of the foliage. The _leaves_ of the plants would give color and +variety enough without the flowers, and they too are in profusion. Every +house stands in its own grounds, and I think I may say that every house +has a beautiful shrubbery and garden attached to it. Of course, with all +this warm rain constantly falling, the pruning-knife is as much needed as +the spade, but the natives make excellent and clever gardeners, and every +place is well and neatly kept. Mine is the only overgrown and yet empty +garden I have seen, but, all the same, I have more flowers in my +drawing-room than any one else, for all my neighbors take compassion on me +and send me baskets full of the loveliest roses every morning. Then it is +only necessary to send old Bonhomme, the gardener, a little way down the +steep side of the ravine to pick as much maiden-hair or other delicate +ferns as would stock the market at Covent Garden for a week. + +If it were not for everybody being in such a terror about their health, +this lonely little island would be a very charming place. But ever since +_the_ fever a feeling of sanitary distrust seems to have sprung up among +the inhabitants, which strikes a newcomer very vividly. The European +inhabitants _look_ very well, and the ladies and children are far more +blooming--though I acknowledge it is a delicate bloom--than any one I saw +in Natal. Still, you can detect that the question of health is uppermost +in the public mind. If a house is spoken of, its only recommendation need +be that it is healthy. There is very little society at night, because +night air is considered dangerous: even the chief attraction of +lawn-tennis, the universal game here, is that "it is so healthy." And to +see the way the gentlemen wrap up after it in coats which seem to have +been made for arctic wear! Of course they are quite right to be careful, +and it is a comfort to know that with proper care and the precautions +taught by experience there is no reason why, under the blessing of God, a +European should not enjoy as good health in Mauritius as in other places +with a better reputation. There are nearly always cases of fever in Port +Louis, and three or four deaths a day from it; but then the native white +and creole population is very large, and the proportion is not so +alarming. + +One of the things which I think are not generally understood is, how +completely the whole place is French. It is not in the least like any +colony which I have ever seen. It is a comfortable settlement, where +families have intermarried and taken root in the soil, regarding it with +quite as fond and fervent an affection as we bear to our own country. +Instead of the apologies for, and abuse of, a colony (woe to you if _you_ +find fault, however!) with which your old colonist greets a new arrival, I +find here a strong patriotic sentiment of pride and love, which is +certainly well merited. When you take into consideration the tiny +dimensions of the island, its distance from all the centres of +civilization, its isolation, the great calamities which have befallen it +from hurricane, drought and pestilence, and the way it has overlived them +all, there is every justification for the pride and glory of its +inhabitants in their fair and fertile islet. Never were such good roads: I +don't know how they are managed or who keeps them in order, except that I +believe everything in the whole place is done by government. Certainly, +government ought to be patted on the back if those neat, wide, well-kept +roads are its handiwork. But, as I was saying, it is a surprise to most +English comers to find how thoroughly French the whole place is, and you +perceive the change first and chiefly in the graceful and courteous +manners of the people of all grades and classes. Instead of the delightful +British stare and avoidance of strangers, every one, from the highest +official to the poorest peasant, has a word or bow of greeting for the +passer-by; and especially is this genial civility to be admired and +noticed at the railway-stations and in the carriages. You never hear +English spoken except among a few officials, and a knowledge of French is +the first necessity of life here. Unhappily, there is a patois in use +among the creoles and other natives which is very confusing. It is made up +of a strange jumble of Eastern languages, grafted on a debased kind of +French, and gabbled with the rapidity of lightning and a great deal of +gesticulation. At a ball you hear far more French than English spoken, and +at a concert I attended lately not a single song was in English. Even in +the Protestant churches there is a special service held in French every +Sunday, as well as another in Tamil, besides the English services; so a +clergyman in Mauritius needs to be a good linguist. The polished floors, +well _frotte_ every morning, and the rather set-out style of the rooms, +all make a house look French. The business of the law-courts and the +newspapers are also in French, with only here and there a column of +English. The notifications of distances, the weights and measures, the +"avis aux voyageurs," the finger-posts, wayside bills, signs on +shop-fronts, are all in French. When by any chance the owner of a shop +breaks out into an English notification of his wares--and it is generally +a Chinaman or Parsee who is fired by this noble ambition--the result is as +difficult to decipher as if it were a cuneiform inscription. + +The greatest difference, as it is the one which most affects my individual +comfort, which I have yet found out between Mauritius and an ordinary +English colony is the poverty of the book-shops. Your true creole is not a +reading character, though, on the other hand, he has a great and natural +taste for music. I miss the one or even two excellent book shops where one +could get, at quite reasonable prices too, most of the new and readable +books which I have always found in the chief town of every English colony. +At Cape Town, Christchurch, New Zealand, Maritzburg, D'Urban, there are +far better booksellers than in most English country towns. Here it appears +to me as if the love of literature were confined to the few English +officials, who devour each other's half dozen volumes with an appetite +which speaks terribly of a state of chronic mental famine. I keep hoping +that I shall always be as busy as I am now, and so have very little time +for reading, for if it is ever otherwise I too shall experience the +universal starvation. + + +BEAU BASSIN, June 20th. + +It has never been my lot hitherto, even in all my various wanderings, to +stand of a clear starlight night and see the dear old Plough shining in +the northern sky whilst the Southern Cross rode high in the eastern +heaven. But I can see them both now; and the last thing I always do before +going to bed is to go out and look first straight before me, where the +Plough hangs luminous and low over the sea, and then stroll toward the +right-hand or eastern side of the veranda and gaze up at the beautiful +Cross through the rustling, tall tree-tops. It is much too cold now to sit +out in the wide veranda and either watch the stars or try to catch a +glimpse of the monkeys peeping up over the edge of the ravine in the +moonlight, thereby awakening poor rheumatic old Boxer's futile rage by +their gambols. My favorite theory is that one is never so cold as in a +tropical country, and I have had great encouragement in that idea lately. +We are always regretting that no fireplace has been included in the +internal arrangements of this house, and when we go out to dinner part of +the pleasure of the evening consists in getting well roasted in front of a +coal-fire in the drawing-room. I am assured that a few months hence I +shall utterly deny this said theory, and refuse to believe the fireplaces +I see occasionally could ever be used except as receptacles for pots of +ferns and large-leaved plants. At present, however, it is, as I say, +delightfully, bracingly cold in the morning and evening, and almost too +cold for comfort at night unless indeed you are well provided with +blankets. We take long walks of three or four miles of an evening, +starting when the sun sinks low enough for the luxuriant hedges by the +roadside to afford us occasional shelter, and returning either in the +starlight dusk or in the crisper air of a moonlight evening. In every +direction the walk is sure to be a pretty one, whether we have the hill of +the Corps-de-Garde before us, with its distinctly-marked profile of a +French soldier of the days of the Empire lying with crossed hands, the +head and feet cutting the sky-line sharp and clear, or the bolder outlines +of blue Mount Ory or cloud-capped Pieter Both. Our path always lies +through a splendid tangle of vegetation, where the pruning-knife seems the +only gardening tool needed, and where the deepening twilight brings out +many a heavy perfume from some hidden flower. Above us bends a vault of +lapis-lazuli, with globes of light hanging in it, and around us is a +heavenly, soft and balmy air. Whenever I say to a resident how delicious I +find it all, he or she is sure to answer dolefully, "Wait till the hot +weather!" But my idea is, that if there _is_ this terrible time in front +of us, it is surely all the more reason why we should enjoy immensely the +agreeable present. That there is some very different weather to be battled +with is apparent by the extraordinary shutters one sees to all the houses. +Imagine doors built as if to stand a siege, strengthened by heavy +cross-pieces of wood close together, and, instead of bolt or lock, kept in +their places by solid iron bars as thick as my wrist. Every door and +window in the length and breadth of the island is furnished with these +_contre-vents_, or hurricane-shutters, and they tell their own tale. So do +the huge stones, or rather rocks, with which the roofs of the humbler +houses and verandas are weighted. My expression of face must have been +something amusing when I remarked triumphantly the other day to one of my +acquaintances, who had just observed that my house stood in a very exposed +situation, "But it has been built a great many years, and must have stood +the great hurricanes of 1848 and 1868." "Ah!" replied Cassandra +cheerfully; "there was not much left of it, I fancy, after the '48 +hurricane, and I _know_ that the veranda was blown right _over_ the house +in the gale of '68." Was not that a cheerful tale to hear of one's house? +Just now the weather is wet and windy as well as cold, and the constant +and capricious heavy showers reduce the lawn-tennis players to despair. + +If any one asked me what was the serious occupation of my life here, I +should answer without hesitation, "Airing my clothes." And it would be +absolutely true. No one who has not seen it can imagine the damp and +mildew which cover everything if it be shut up for even a few days. +Ammonia in the box or drawer keeps the gloves from being spotted like the +pard, but nothing seems to avail with the other articles of clothing. +Linen feels quite wet if it is left unused in the _almirah_, or chest of +drawers, for a week. Silk dresses break out into a measle-like rash of +yellow spots. Cotton or muslin gowns become livid and take unto themselves +a horrible charnel-house odor. Shoes and books are speedily covered a +quarter of an inch deep by a mould which you can easily imagine would +begin to grow ferns and long grasses in another week or so. + +Hats, caps, cloth clothes, all share the same damp fate, whilst, as for +the poor books, their condition is enough to make one weep, and that in +spite of my constant attention and repeated dabbings with spirits of wine. +And this is not the dampest part of the island by any means. Do not +suppose, however, that damp is the only enemy to one's toilette here. I +found a snail the other day in my wardrobe which had been journeying +slowly but effectively across some favorite silken skirts. Cockroaches +prefer tulle and net, and eat their way recklessly and rapidly through +choicest lace, besides nibbling every cloth-bound book in the island. On +the other hand, the rats confine their attentions chiefly to the boots and +shoes of the resident, and are at all events good friends to the makers +and sellers of those necessary articles. So, you see, garments are likely +to be a source of more trouble than pleasure to their possessor if he or +she is at all inclined to be always _tire a quatre epingles_. + +Except these objectionable creatures, there is not much animal life astir +around me in the belle isle. It is too cold still for the butterflies, and +I do not observe much variety among the birds. There are flocks of minas +always twittering about my lawn--glossy birds very like starlings in their +shape and impudent ways, only with more white in the plumage and with +brilliant orange-colored circles round their eyes. There are plenty of +paroquets, I am told, and cardinal birds, but I have not yet seen them. A +sort of hybrid canary whistles and chirps in the early mornings, and I +hear the shrill wild note of a merle every now and then. Of winged game +there are but few varieties--partridges, quails, guinea-fowl and pigeons +making up the list--but, on the other hand, poultry seems to swarm +everywhere. I never saw such long-necked and long-legged cocks and hens in +my life as I see here; but these feathered giraffes appear to thrive +remarkably well, and scratch and cackle around every Malabar hut. I have +not seen a sheep or a goat since I arrived, nor a cow or bullock grazing. +The milch cows are all stall-fed. The bullocks go straight from shipboard +to the butcher, and the horses are never turned out. This is partly +because there is no pasturage, the land being used entirely for sugar-cane +or else left in small patches of jungle. As might be expected from such a +volcanic-looking island, the surface of the ground is extremely stony, but +the sugar-cane loves the light soil, and I am told that it thrives best +where the stones are just turned aside and a furrow left for the +cane-plant. After a year or so the furrow is changed by the rocks being +rolled back again into their original places, and the space they occupied +is then available for young plants. The wild hares are terrible enemies to +the first shoots of the cane, and we pass picturesque _gardiens_ armed +with amazing _fusils_ and clad in every variety of picturesque rag, +keeping a sort of boundary-guard at the edges of the sprouting +cane-fields. There are a great many dogs to be seen about, and they are +also regarded as gardiens; for the swarming miscellaneous Eastern +population does not bear the best reputation in the world for honesty, and +the police seem to have their hands full. All that I know about the use of +the dogs as auxiliaries is that they yelp and bark hideously all night at +each other, for every one seems to resent as a personal insult any +nocturnal visit from a neighbor's dog. + +The horses are better than I expected. When one hears that every +four-footed beast has to be imported, one naturally expects dear and +indifferent horses, but I am agreeably surprised in this respect. We have +horses from the Cape, from Natal, and even from Australia, and they do not +appear to cost more here than they would in their respective countries. I +may add that there is also no difficulty whatever in providing yourself +with an excellent carriage of any kind you prefer, and it is far better to +choose one here than to import one. I mention this because a carriage or +conveyance of some sort is the necessary of necessaries here--as +indispensable as a pair of boots would be in England. I scarcely ever see +any one on horseback: people never seem to ride, to my great regret. I am +assured that it will be much too hot to do so in the summer evenings, and +that the hardness of the roads prevents riding from being an agreeable +mode of exercise. Every village can furnish sundry _carrioles_ for hire, +queer-looking little conveyances, like a minute section of a tilt-cart +mounted on two crazy wheels and drawn by a rat of a pony. Ponies are a +great institution here, and are really more suitable for ordinary work +than horses. They are imported in large numbers from Pegu and other parts +of Birmah, and also from Java, Timur and different places in the Malay +Archipelago. They stand about twelve or fourteen hands high, and are the +strongest, healthiest, pluckiest little beauties imaginable, full of fire +and go. Occasionally I meet a carriage drawn by a handsome pair of mules, +and they are much used in the numerous carts and for farm-work, especially +on the sugar estates. They are chiefly brought from South America and from +the Persian Gulf, and have many admirers, but I cannot say I like them as +a substitute either for horses or for the gay little ponies. This is such +an exceedingly sociable place that I have frequent opportunities of +looking at the nice horses of my visitors, and most of the equipages would +do credit to any establishment. The favorite style of carriage in use here +is very like a victoria, only there is a curious custom of _always_ +keeping the hood up. It looks so strange to my eyes to see the hood, which +projects unusually far as a screen against either sun or rain, kept +habitually up, even during the brief and balmy twilight, when one fancies +it would be so much more agreeable to drive swiftly through the soft air +without any screening _soufflet_. Of course it would be quite necessary to +keep it up in the daytime, or even late at night against the heavy dew, +but this does not begin to fall until it is too dark to remain out +driving. + +I must say I like Mauritius extremely. It is so _comfortable_ to live in a +place with good servants and commodious houses, and the society is +particularly refined and agreeable, owing chiefly to the mixture of a +strong French element in its otherwise humdrum ingredients. I have never +seen such a wealth of lovely hair or such beautiful eyes and teeth as I +observe in the girls in every ball-room here; and when you add exceedingly +charming--alas! that I must say foreign--manners and a great deal of +musical talent, you can easily imagine that the style of the society is a +good deal above that to be found in most colonies. + +What weigh upon me most sadly in the Mauritius are the solitude and the +intense loneliness of the little island. We are very gay and pleasant +among ourselves, but I often feel as if I were in a dream as far as the +rest of the world is concerned, or as if we were all living in another +planet. Only once in a month does the least whisper reach us from the +great outer world beyond our girdling reef of breaking foam: only once in +four long weeks can any tidings come to us from those we love and are +parted from--any news of the progress of events, any thrilling incidents +of daily history; and it is strange how diluted the sense of interest +becomes by passing through so long an interval of days and weeks. The +force of everything is weakened, its strength broken. Can you fancy the +position of a ship at sea, not voyaging toward any port or harbor, but +moored in the midst of a vast, desolate ocean? Once in a weary while of +thirty days another ship passes and throws some mailbags on board, and +whilst we stretch out clamorous hands and cry for fuller tidings, for more +news, the vessel has passed out of our reach, and we are absolutely alone +once more. It is the strangest sensation, and I do not think one can ever +get reconciled to it. True, there is a great deal of talk just now about a +connecting cable which is some day to join us by electric wires to the +centres of civilization; but no telegraphic message can ever make up for +letters, and it will always be too costly for private use except on great +emergencies. Strange to say, the mercantile community, which is a very +influential one here, objects strongly to proposals of either telegraphic +or increased postal communication. They have no doubt good reasons for +their opinion, but I think if their pretty little children were on the +other side of the world, instead of close at hand, they would agree with +me that it is very hard to wait for four weeks between the mails. + + + + +AN ADVENTURE IN CYPRUS + + +"So this is Cyprus?" cries my English companion, Mr. James P----, turning +his glass with a critical air upon the glorious panorama that lies +outspread before us in all the splendor of the June sunrise. "Well, upon +my word, it's not so bad, after all!" + +Such a landscape, however, merits far higher praise than this thoroughly +English commendation. To the right surge up against the bright morning +sky, wave beyond wave, an endless succession of green sunny slopes which +might pass for the "Delectable Mountains" of Bunyan. To the left cluster +the vineyards which have supplied for nineteen centuries the far-famed +"wine of Cyprus." In front extends a wide sweep of smooth white sand, +ending on one side in a bold rocky ridge, and on the other in the tall +white houses and straggling streets and painted church-towers and gilded +cupolas of the quaint old town of Larnaka, which, outlined against a +shadowy background of purple hills, appears to us as just it did to Coeur +de Lion and his warriors when they landed here seven hundred years ago on +their way to the fatal crusade from which so few of them were to +return.[A] And all around, a fit frame for such a picture, extend the blue +sparkling sea and the warm, dreamy, voluptuous summer sky. + +"Wasn't it here that Fortunatus used to live?" says P----. "I wish I could +find his purse lying about somewhere: it would come in very handy just +now." + +"You forget that its virtue ended with his life," answer I; "and, +moreover, the illustrious man didn't live here, but at Famagosta, farther +along the coast, where, I dare say, the first Greek you meet will show +you 'ze house of Signor Fortunato,' and the original purse to boot, all +for the small charge of one piastre." + +Our landing is beset by the usual mob of yelling vagabonds, eager to +lighten our pockets by means of worthless native "curiosities," "antiques" +manufactured a month before, or vociferous offers to show us "all ze fine +sight of ze town, ver' sheap." Just as we have succeeded in fighting our +way through the hurly-burly a venerable old Smyrniote with a long white +beard, in whom we recognize one of our fellow-passengers on the steamer, +accosts us with a low bow: "Want see ze old shursh, genteelmen? All ze +Signori Inglesi go see zat. You wish, I take you zere one minute." + +"All right!" shouts P---- with characteristic impetuosity: "I'm bound to +see all I can in the time. Drive on, old boy: I'm your man." + +Away we go, accordingly, along the deep, narrow, tunnel-like streets, +flanked on either side by tall blank houses such as meet one at every turn +in Cairo or Djeddah or Jerusalem, between whose projecting fronts the +sunny sky appears like a narrow strip of bright blue ribbon far away +overhead, while all below is veiled in a rich summer twilight of purple +shadow, like that which fills the interior of some vast cathedral. But +ever and anon a sudden break in the ranked masses of building gives us a +momentary glimpse of the broad shining sea and dazzling sunlight, which +falls upon many a group that a painter would love to copy--tall, gaunt +Armenians, whose high black caps and long dark robes make their pale, +hollow faces look doubly spectral; low-browed, sallow, bearded Russians; +brawny English sailors, looking down with a grand, indulgent contempt upon +those unhappy beings whom an inscrutable Providence has doomed to be +"foreigners;" stolid Turks, tramping onward in silent defiance of the +fierce looks cast at them from every side; sinewy Dalmatians, with +close-cropped black hair; dapper Frenchmen, with well-trimmed moustaches, +casting annihilating glances at the few ladies who happen to be abroad; +and barefooted Greeks, with little baskets of fruit or fish perched on +their heads--ragged, wild-eyed and brigand-like as the lazzaroni who rose +from the pavement of Naples at the call of Masaniello. + +"Awful rascals some of these fellows look, eh?" remarks P---- in a stage +whisper. + +"Yes, their faces are certainly no letter of recommendation. There is some +truth, undoubtedly, in the _last_ clause of the old proverb: 'Greek wines +steal all heads, Greek women steal all hearts, and Greek men steal +everything.'" + +But at this moment our attention is drawn to a crowd a little way ahead, +the centre of attraction being apparently a good-looking young Greek from +the Morea, whose jaunty little crimson cap with its hanging tassel sets +off very tastefully his dark, handsome face and the glossy black curls +which surround it. He is leaning against the pillar of a gateway in an +attitude of unstudied grace that would charm an Italian painter, and +singing, to the accompaniment of his little three-stringed guitar, a +lively Greek song, of which we only come up in time to catch the last +verse: + + Look in mine eyes, lady fair: + There your own image you'll see. + Open my heart and look there: + _There_ too your image will be. + +The coppers that chink into the singer's extended hat show how fully his +efforts are appreciated; but at this moment P----, with the free-and-easy +command of a true John Bull, elbows his way through the throng, and calls +out: "Holloa, Johnny! we only got the fag-end of that song. Tip us +another, and here's five piastres for you" (about twenty-five cents). + +The musician seems to understand him, and with a slight preliminary +flourish on his instrument pours forth, in a voice as clear and rippling +as the carol of a bird, a song which may be thus translated: + + Men fret, men toil, men pinch and pare, + Make life itself a scramble, + While I, without a grief or care, + Where'er it lists me ramble. + 'Neath cloudless sun or clouded moon, + By market-cross or ferry, + I chant my lay, I play my tune. + And all who hear are merry. + + When summer's sun unclouded shines, + And mountain-shadows linger, + I watch them dance among the vines + As quicker moves my finger; + And so they sport till day is o'er, + And black-robed Night advances, + And where the maidens tripped before, + The lovely moonbeam dances. + + When 'neath the rush of winter's rain + The dripping forests welter, + The shepherd opes his door amain, + And gives me food and shelter. + I touch my chords, I trill my lay, + The firelight glances o'er us, + And wind and rain, in stormy play, + Join in with lusty chorus. + + 'Mid rustling leaves, 'neath open sky, + I live like lark or swallow: + There's not a bird more free to fly + Than I am free to follow. + And when grim Death his bow shall bend, + My mortal course suspending, + Oh may my life, howe'er it end, + Have music in its ending! + +Such music, supplemented by such a voice, strongly tempts us to remain and +hear more; but our impatient guide urges us onward, and in another minute +we stand before the dark, low-browed archway of the old church which we +have come to see. + +The quaint architecture of the outside is strange and old-world enough, +but when we enter, the dim interior, haunted by weird shadows and ghostly +echoes, has quite an unearthly effect after the bustling life of the city. +As is usual in Greek and Russian churches, there are no seats of any kind, +the whole interior being one wide bare space, dimly lighted by the two +tall candles on the altar and a few little oil-lamps attached to the +pictures of saints adorning the walls. The decorations have that air of +tawdry finery which is the most displeasing feature of the Eastern +churches; but the four frescoes at the farther end (representing the +Adoration of the Magi, our Lord's Baptism, the Crucifixion, and the +Descent into Hell), rude as they are, have a grim power which takes hold +of our fancy at once. Dante himself might approve the last of the four, in +which the lurid atmosphere, the hideous contortions of the demons, and the +surging flight of the half-awakened dead, with their blank faces and stony +eyes, contrast magnificently with the grand calmness of the divine Figure +in the centre--a perfect realization of the noble words of Milton: + + Some howled, some shrieked, + Some bent their fiery darts at thee, while Thou + Sat'st unappalled in calm and sinless peace. + +The only occupant of the building is a tall, dignified-looking priest, who +at once takes upon himself the part of expositor; but he is suddenly +interrupted by the hurried entrance of a man who whispers something in his +ear. The priest instantly vanishes into the sacristy, and, reappearing +with something like a casket under his arm, goes hastily out, muttering as +he passes us some words which my comrade interprets as "Follow me." + +We obey at once; but, in truth, it is no light matter to do so, for the +good father sets off at a pace which, considering the heat of the day and +the weight of his trailing robes, is simply astounding. Up one street, +down another, round a corner, along a narrow lane--on he rushes as if bent +upon rivalling that indefatigable giant who "walked round the world every +morning before breakfast to sharpen his appetite." + +"By Jove!" mutters P----, mopping his streaming face for the twentieth +time, "what he's going to show us ought to be something special, by the +hurry he's in to get to it. Anyhow, it's a queer style of showing us the +way, to go pelting on like that, and leave us to take care of ourselves. +I'll just halloo to him to slacken speed a bit." + +But just as he is about to do so the priest halts suddenly in front of a +high, blank wall of baked clay, in the midst of which a door opens and +swallows him as if by magic. We come tearing up a moment later, and are +about to enter at his heels when our way is unexpectedly barred by an ugly +old Greek with one eye and with a threadbare crimson cap pulled down over +his lean, sallow face, which looks very much like a half-decayed cucumber. +"What do you want?" he growls, eying us from head to foot with the air of +a bulldog about to bite. + +We explain our errand, and are electrified with the information that we +have been on the point of intruding ourselves into a private house; that +the priest's business there is to pray over the master of it, who is +dangerously ill; and that, in short, we have been "hunting upon a false +scent" altogether. Having imparted this satisfactory information, Cerberus +shuts the door in our faces (which are sufficiently blank by this time), +and leaves us to think over the matter at our leisure. + +"Confound the old mole!" growls P---- wrathfully: "if he didn't want us, +why on earth did he tell us to follow him, I should like to know?" + +"Are you quite sure that he _did_ say so?" ask I. "What were the Greek +words that he used?" + +"'Me akolouthei,' or something like that." + +"Which means, '_Don't_ follow,'" I retort, transfixing the abashed +offender with a look of piercing reproach. "If _that's_ all that's left of +your Greek, you'd better buy a lexicon and take a fresh start. However, +there's nobody to tell tales if _we_ don't, that's one comfort." + +And so ends the first and last of our adventures in Cyprus. + +DAVID KER. + + + + +NEIGHBORLY LOVE. + + Eine Welt zwar bist du, O Rom; doch ohne die Liebe + Waere die Welt nicht die Welt, waere denn Rom auch nicht Rom.--GOETHE: + _Elegy I_. + + + "Maytide in Rome! The air 's a mist of gold, + In rainbow colors are the fountains springing, + The streets are like a garden to behold, + And in my heart a choir of birds are singing. + Haste to thy window, love: I wait for thee. + High o'er the narrow lane our glance may meet, + Our stretched hands all but clasp. Hither to me, + And make the glory of the hour complete. + + "No sound, no sign! The bowed blinds are not stirred. + I dare not cry, lest from the common street + Some passing idler catch one sacred word + That's dedicate to her. How may I greet + My love to-day? how may I lure her near? + Ah! I will write my message on her wall + In living sunshine. She shall see and hear: + The silent fire of heaven shall sound my call." + + He draws his casement: on the glittering glass + A captured sunbeam flashes sudden flame: + Between her blinds demure he makes it pass: + Its joyous radiance tells her whence it came. + She feels its presence like a fiery kiss; + Mantling her face leaps up the maiden's blood; + She flies to greet him. Oh immortal bliss! + For ever thus is old Rome's youth renewed. + +EMMA LAZARUS. + + + + +OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + + + +POE AND MRS. WHITMAN. + +Burns's Highland Mary, Petrarch's Laura, and other real and imaginary +loves of the poets, have been immortalized in song, but we doubt whether +any of the numerous objects of poetical adoration were more worthy of +honor than Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman, the friend and defender of Edgar A. +Poe. That he should have inspired so deep and lasting a love in the heart +of so true and pure a woman would alone prove that he was not the social +pariah his vindictive enemies have held up to the world's wonder and +detestation. The poet's love for Mrs. Whitman was the one gleam of hope +that cheered the last sad years of his life. His letters to her breathed +the most passionate devotion and the most enthusiastic admiration. One +eloquent extract from his love-letters to Mrs. Whitman will suffice. In +response to a passage in one of her letters in which she says, "How often +have I heard men, and even women, say of you, 'He has great intellectual +power, but no principle, no moral sense'!" he exclaims: "I love you too +truly ever to have offered you my hand, ever to have sought your love, had +I known my name to be so stained as your expressions imply. There is no +oath which seems to me so sacred as that sworn by the all-divine love I +bear you. By this love, then, and by the God who reigns in heaven, I swear +to you that my soul is incapable of dishonor. I can call to mind no act of +my life which would bring a blush to my cheek or to yours." + +Carried away by the ardor and eloquent passion of her poet-lover, and full +of the sweetest human sympathy and the tenderest human charity for one so +gifted but so unfortunate, Mrs. Whitman, against the advice of her +relatives and friends, consented to a conditional engagement. It was in +relation to this engagement, and the cause of its being broken off, that +one of the most calumnious stories against Poe was told, and believed both +in America and in Europe, but especially in England. Why the engagement +was broken, and by whom, still remains buried in mystery, but that Poe was +guilty of any "outrage" at her house upon the eve of their intended +marriage was emphatically denied by Mrs. Whitman. She pronounced the whole +story a "calumny." In a letter before me she says: "I do not think it +possible to overstate the gentlemanly reticence and amenity of his +habitual manner. It was stamped through and through with the impress of +nobility and gentleness. I have seen him in many moods and phases in those +'lonesome, latter years' which were rapidly merging into the mournful +tragedy of death. I have seen him sullen and moody under a sense of insult +and imaginary wrong. I have _never_ seen in him the faintest indication of +savagery and rowdyism and brutality." + +Some of the most tenderly passionate of Mrs. Whitman's verses were +inspired by her affection for Poe. She wrote six sonnets to his memory, +overflowing with the most exalted love and generous sympathy. The first of +these sonnets ends thus: + + _Thou_ wert my destiny: thy song, thy fame, + The wild enchantments clustering round thy name, + Were my soul's heritage--its regal dower, + Its glory, and its kingdom, and its power. + +When malice had exhausted itself in heaping obloquy upon the name of the +dead poet, it was the gentle hand of woman that first removed the odium +from his memory. It was Mrs. Whitman--who loved him and whom he +loved--that dared to penetrate the "mournful corridors" of that sad, +desolate heart, with its "halls of tragedy and chambers of retribution," +and tell the true but melancholy story of the unhappy master of the Raven. +It was she who generously came forward as "one of the friends" of him who +was said to have no friends. She was his steady champion from first to +last. Whether it was some crackbrain scribbler who tried to prove Poe +"mad," some accomplished scholar who endeavored to disparage him in order +to magnify some other writer, or some silly woman who attempted to foist +herself into notice by relating "imaginary facts" concerning the poet's +hidden life, Mrs. Whitman was always ready to defend her dead friend. + +One of the most touching incidents in Poe's early life was his affection +and fidelity to Mrs. Helen Stannard, who had completely won the sensitive +boy's heart by her kindness to him when he came to her house with her son, +a favorite school-friend. This lady died under circumstances of peculiar +sorrow, and her young admirer was in the habit of visiting her grave every +night. It was she--"the one idolatrous and purely ideal love" of his +passionate boyhood--who inspired those exquisite lines, "Helen, thy beauty +is to me." Mr. Richard Henry Stoddard, in his article on Poe published in +_Harper's Monthly_ for May, 1872, says, in allusion to Mrs. Stannard: "The +memory of this lady _is said_ to have suggested the most beautiful of his +minor poems, 'Helen,' though I am not aware _that Poe ever countenanced +the idea_." As Mrs. Whitman had distinctly stated in _Edgar Poe and his +Critics_ that Mrs. Stannard _had_ inspired the poem, she addressed a note +to Mr. Stoddard upon the subject, to which he sent the following reply: +"MY DEAR MRS. WHITMAN: So many months have elapsed since I wrote the paper +on Poe about which you write that I am unable to remember what I said in +it. I certainly had no intention to discredit any statement that you made +in _Edgar Poe and his Critics_, and if I have done so I am sorry for it, +and ask your forgiveness." + +In one of Mrs. Whitman's letters, now lying before me, she says: "So much +has been written, and so much still continues to be written, about Poe by +persons who are either his avowed or secret enemies, that I joyfully +welcome every friendly or impartial word spoken in his behalf. His enemies +are uttering their venomous fabrications in every newspaper, and so few +voices can obtain a hearing in his defence. My own personal knowledge of +Mr. Poe was very brief, although it comprehended memorable incidents, and +was doubtless, as he kindly characterized it in one of his letters of the +period, 'the most earnest epoch of his life;' and such I devoutly and +emphatically believe it to have been. You ask me to furnish you with +extracts from his letters, literary or otherwise. There are imperative +reasons why these letters cannot and _ought_ not to be published at +present--not that there was a word or a thought in them discreditable to +Poe, though some of them were imprudent, doubtless, and liable to be +construed wrongly by his enemies. They are for the most part strictly +_personal_. The only extract from them of which I have authorized the +publication is a fac-simile of a paragraph inserted between the 68th and +69th pages of Mr. Ingram's memoir in Black's (Edinburgh) edition of the +complete works of Poe. The paragraph in the original letter (dated +November 24, 1848) consists of only eight lines: 'The agony which I have +so lately endured--an agony known only to my God and to myself--seems to +have passed my soul through fire, and purified it from all that is weak. +Henceforward I am strong: this those who love me shall see, as well as +those who have so relentlessly endeavored to ruin me. It needed only some +such trials as I have just undergone to make me what I was born to be by +making me conscious of my own strength.' This and a protest against the +charge of indifference to moral obligations so often urged against him, +which I permitted Mr. Gill to extract for publication from a long letter +filled with eloquent and proud remonstrance against the injustice of such +a charge, are the only passages of which I have authorized the +publication. Other letters have been published without my consent. I have +endeavored to reconcile myself to the unauthorized use of private letters +and papers, since the effect of their publication has been on the whole +regarded as favorable to Poe." + +It was Mrs. Whitman who first attempted to trace Edgar Poe's descent from +the old Norman family of Le Poer, which emigrated to Ireland during the +reign of Henry II. of England. Lady Blessington, through her father, +Edmund Power, claimed the same illustrious descent. The Le Poers were +distinguished for being improvident, daring and reckless. The family +originally belonged to Italy, whence they passed to the north of France, +and went to England with William the Conqueror. In a letter dated January +3, 1877, Mrs. Whitman says: "For all that I said on the subject I _alone_ +am responsible. A distant relative of mine, a descendant, like myself, +from Nicholas le Poer, had long ministered to my genealogical proclivities +by stories which from my childhood had vaguely haunted and charmed my +imagination. When I discovered certain facts of Poe's history of which he +had previously made little account, he seemed greatly impressed by my +theory of our relationship. Of course I endowed him with my traditional +heirlooms. John Savage, who wrote some fine papers on Poe, which I _think_ +appeared in the _Democratic Review_, perhaps in 1858, said to a friend of +mine that the things most interesting and valuable to him in my little +book (_Poe and his Critics_) were its genealogical hints." + +When M. Stephane Mallarme, an enthusiastic admirer of Poe's, undertook to +translate his works into French, he addressed Mrs. Whitman a complimentary +letter, from which the following passages are translated: "Whatever is +done to honor the memory of a genius the most truly divine the world has +seen, ought it not first to obtain your sanction? Such of Poe's works as +our great Baudelaire left untranslated--that is to say, the poems and many +of the literary criticisms--I hope to make known to France. My first +attempt, 'Le Corbeau,' of which I send you a specimen, is intended to +attract attention to a future work now nearly completed. I trust that the +attempt will meet your approval, but no possible success of my future +design could cause you, madam, a satisfaction equal to the joy, vivid, +profound and absolute, caused by an extract from one of your letters in +which you expressed a wish to see a copy of my 'Corbeau.' Not only in +space--which is nothing--but in _time_, made up for each of us of the +hours we deem most memorable in the past, your wish seemed to come to me +from _so_ far, and to bring with it the most delicious return of long +cherished memories; for, fascinated with the works of Poe from my infancy, +it has been a long time that your name has been associated with his in my +earliest and most intimate sympathies. Receive, madam, this expression of +a gratitude such as your poetical soul may comprehend, for it is my inmost +heart that thanks you." + +Mrs. Whitman translated Mallarme's inscription intended for the Poe +monument in Baltimore. The last verse was thus rendered: + + Through storied centuries thou shall proudly stand + In the Memorial City of his land, + A silent monitor, austere and gray, + To warn the clamorous brood of harpies from their prey. + +E.L.D. + + +A LITTLE PERVERSITY IN WOMEN. + + MRS. PHILIP MARKHAM. PHILIP MARKHAM. + MISS ETHEL ARNOLD. FRANK BEVERLY. + + (The four have been dining together and discussing the people + they had met some hours before at a reception.) + + +_Philip Markham._ At all events, I call her a very beautiful woman.--Don't +you say so, Beverly? I am telling Miss Arnold that I considered Miss St. +John handsome. + +_Mrs. Markham._ Oh, Philip, how can you say so? + +_Beverly._ I admired her immensely. + +_Mrs. M._ (with a shrug). Oh, I dare say. A round, soulless face, a large +waist-- + +_Philip._ You women have no eyes. She has cheeks (to quote Cherbuliez) +like those fruits one longs to bite into, a pair of fine eyes, well-cut +lips--(Breaks off and laughs). + +_Mrs. M._ (severely). Pray go on. + +_Philip._ Not while you regard me with that virtuous air of condemnation. + +_Mrs. M._ I confess I saw nothing to admire in the girl except that she +looked healthy and strong. + +_Miss Arnold._ Nor did I. Moreover, she had the fault of being badly +dressed. + +_Beverly._ She was beautiful, then, not by reason of her dress, as most of +your sex are, but in spite of it. You women always underrate physical +beauty in each other. + +_Mrs. M._ (pretending not to have heard Beverly's remark). Yes, Ethel, +very badly dressed, and her hair was atrociously arranged. + +_Philip._ Oh, we did not look at her hair, we were so much attracted by +her face and figure. + +_Mrs. M._ (piqued). Take my advice, Ethel, and never marry. While we were +engaged Philip never thought of seeing beauty in any girl except myself: +now he is in a state of enthusiasm bordering upon frenzy over every new +face he comes across. + +_Beverly._ He knows, I suppose, that you do not mind it--that you are the +more flattered the more he admires the entire sex. + +_Mrs. M._ Of course I do not _mind_ it: the only thing is-- + +_Philip._ Well, what is the only thing, Jenny? + +_Beverly._ You remember, Cousin Jenny, I was talking the other day about +the perversity of your sex. You either cannot or will not understand your +husbands: they hide nothing, extenuate nothing, yet you fail to grasp the +idea of that side of their minds which is at once the best and the most +dangerous. If Philip did not regard all women with interest, and some with +particular interest, he could not have had it in his head to be half so +much in love with you as he is. + +_Philip._ That is true, Frank--so true that we won't ask how you found it +out. + +_Miss A._ You men always stand by each other so faithfully! Now, I have +observed these traits among my married friends: the husbands invariably +give a half sigh at the sight of a beautiful girl, implying, "Oh, if I +were not a married man!" while the wives, on meeting a man who attracts +admiration, as uniformly believe that, let him be ever so handsome, clever +or fascinating, he cannot compare with their own particular John. + +_Mrs. M._ That is true, Ethel; and it shows how much more faithful women +are than men. + +_Philip._ Now, Jenny, that is nonsense. + +_Beverly._ Oh, I dare say there is a soupcon of truth in it. But I think I +could give wives a recipe for keeping their husbands' affections, which, +unpopular although it might be, would yet prove salutary. + +_Miss A._ Give it by all means, Mr. Beverly. Anything so beneficial would +naturally be popular. + +_Beverly._ Pardon me, no. Were I to suggest a pilgrimage, a fast, or +scourgings even, the fair sex would undertake the remedy at once, for they +like some eclat about their smallest doings. All I want them to do is to +correct their little spirit of self-will and cultivate good taste. + +_Mrs. M._ Women _self-willed_! Most women have no will at all. + +_Beverly._ I never saw a woman yet who had not a will; and I am the last +person to deny their right to it. What I suggest is that they suit it to +the requirements of their lives, not let it torment them by going all +astray, by delighting in its errors and persisting in its chimeras. + +_Miss A._ I grant the first, that we have wills, but I do insist that we +have good taste. + +_Beverly._ Now, then, we will consider this abstract question. I maintain +that, considering their interest in women and their natural zest in +pursuing them, men show more right up-and-down faithfulness and devotion +to their obligations than women do. + +_Philip._ Hear! hear! + +_Miss A._ Oh, if you start upon the hypothesis that man is a being +incapable of-- + +_Beverly._ Not at all. You must, however, grant at the outset that man is +the free agent in society--has always been since the beginning of +civilization. He has made all the laws, enjoying complete immunity to suit +the requirements of his wishes and needs, yet everybody knows that, in +spite of the clamor of the woman-suffragists, all the laws favor women. +The basis of every system of civilized society proves that men are +inclined to hold themselves strictly to their obligations toward your sex. +There is no culprit toward whom a jury of men are less lenient than one +who has manifested any light sense of his domestic duties. Is not that +true? + +_Mrs. M._ I suppose it is. But it ought to be so, of course. It is +impossible for men to be good enough to their wives. + +_Beverly._ Just so. But what I claim is, that while every man holds, at +least theoretically, to the very highest ideal of a man's duties in the +marriage relation, very few wives render their husbands' existences so +altogether happy that these obligations become not only the habit but the +joy of their lives.--Don't interrupt me, Jenny.--Not but what the lovely +creatures are willing--nay, anxious--to do so, but just at the point of +accomplishment their little failings of blindness and perversity come in. +They are determined to retain their husbands' complete allegiance, but +their devices and contrivances are mostly dull blunders. Considering what +a frail tie, based on illusion, binds the sexes, my wonder as a bachelor +is that men are, as a rule, as faithful to their wives as they seem to be. + +_Philip._ We have been friends, Frank, for fifteen years, and I married +your first cousin, but notwithstanding all that Jenny will insist now that +I give up your acquaintance. + +_Mrs. M._ No, Philip, I am not angry with Frank: I only feel sorry for +him. + +_Miss A._ So do I. Yet I am curious to know, Jenny, what he means by +saying that wives' devices to keep their husbands' love are mostly dull +blunders. + +_Beverly._ I am waiting for a chance to develop my views. I know plenty of +men who are absolutely loyal to their wives--faithful to the smallest +obligation of married life--yet who regard their marriage as the great +folly of their youth. Now, a woman's intuitions ought to be, it seems to +me, so clear and unerring that she should never permit her face and voice +to become unpleasant to her husband. And this effect generally comes from +the absurdity of her attempts to hold him to her side: they have ended by +repelling him. Now, if your sex would only remember that we are horribly +fastidious, and that it is necessary to behave with good taste-- + +_Mrs. M._ Oh! oh! Monster! + +_Miss A._ Barbarian! + +_Beverly._ I will give you an instance. In our trip up and down the +Saguenay last summer you both remember the bridal couple on board the +boat? + +_Philip._ I remember the bride, a charming creature. The young fellow +could not compare with her in any qualities of cleverness or good looks. + +_Beverly._ Perhaps not. At the same time, he was her superior in some nice +points. Pretty although the bride was, and enviable as we considered his +good-luck, one could not help wincing for him when this delicate, refined +little creature "showed off" before the crowd of indifferent passengers. +At table she put her face so close to his, and when they stood or sat +together on deck she hung about him in such a way, that, as I noticed over +and over, it brought the blood to his cheeks and made him ashamed to raise +his eyes. Depend upon it, that young man, in spite of his infatuation, +said within himself a hundred times on his wedding-journey, "Poor innocent +little darling! she has no idea of the attention she attracts to us." + +_Mrs. M._ (eagerly). Yes, she did know all about it. She was so proud of +being newly married that if everyone with whom she came in contact would +not allude to her position she made a point of confiding the fact that she +was a bride of a week, and actually wore me out with pouring her raptures +into my ears. + +_Miss A._ Jenny, you should not have told that. It will confirm Mr. +Beverly in his cynicism regarding her want of taste. + +_Philip._ I remember the morning the young fellow and I walked into +Chicoutimi together that I said to him, "Lately married, I believe?" and +he only nodded stiffly and pointed out the falls in the distance. + +_Beverly._ Now, it is a deliciously pretty blunder for a bride to proclaim +her good-luck, but it is a blunder nevertheless. For six months a man +forgives it: after that he has no fondness for being paraded as a part and +parcel of a woman's belongings. By that time he has probably found out +that she is not all gushing unconsciousness. Besides this adorable +innocence I observed something else in this pretty bride. Despite her +fresh raptures, she was capable of jealousy: if her husband left her for +an hour he found her a trifle sullen on his return. + +_Miss A._ She had nobody else. + +_Mrs. M._ She naturally wanted to feel that he was interested in nothing +besides her. + +_Beverly._ But she should not have shown it. This is another perverse and +suicidal inconsistency on a woman's part: she should never exhibit these +small meannesses of pique, sullen tempers, jealousy, to her husband, since +they place her wholly at a disadvantage, making her less attractive than +the objects she wishes to detach him from. + +_Mrs. M._ (a little embarrassed and looking toward her husband +deprecatingly, at which he laughs and shakes his head). Woman is a +creature of impulse. She does not study what it is most politic for her to +do: she gives herself utterly--she simply asks for everything in return. + +_Beverly._ Does she give herself utterly? Does she not generally keep an +accurate debit-and-credit account of what is due to her? Then the moment +she feels her rights infringed upon, what is her usual course? She holds +it her prerogative to set out upon a course of conduct eminently qualified +to displease the very man whom it is her interest and her salvation to +please. + +_Mrs. M._ But he should try as well to please her. + +_Beverly._ That is begging the question. Besides, her requirements are +unreasonable. She holds too tight a rein: a man is never safe after he +feels that strain at the bit. Now even you, Jenny--whom I hold up as a +model of a wife--you will not let Philip express his admiration for a +pretty woman without-- + +_Mrs. M._ (eagerly). I delight in having him admire any one whom I +consider worthy of admiration. I do not like to see any man run away with +by an infatuation for mere outside beauty. + +_Beverly._ Yet "mere outside beauty" is clearly the most important gift +Nature has bestowed upon women. + + _Mrs. M._} Oh! oh! oh! + _Miss A._} + +_Philip._ What is your recipe, Frank, for putting an end to disagreements +between husbands and wives? + +_Beverly._ Wives are to give up studying their own requirements, and try +to understand their husbands. + +_Miss A._ And what will the result be? + +_Beverly._ All men, instead of remaining bachelors like myself, will +become infatuated with domestic life. No man could resist the prospect of +being constantly caressed, waited upon, admired, flattered. And once +married, a man's own home would become so fascinating a place to him that +he would never, except against his will, exchange it for his club or the +drawing-room of his neighbor's wife. + +_Miss A._ And in return are husbands prepared to give up a nice sense of +their own requirements and study to understand their wives? + +_Beverly._ Not at all: they are far too stupid to understand their wives: +there is something too fine and elusive about a woman's intellect and +heart to be attained by one of our sex. Besides, are things ever +equal--two souls ever just sufficiently like and unlike exactly to +understand each other? Let women perfect themselves in the art of giving +happiness, and the good action will command its own reward. + +_Miss A._ Do you comprehend, Jenny, what the full duty of woman is? For my +part, I think it is better to go on in the old way, since it is said that +"a mill, a clock and a woman always want mending." I think women have +their own little requirements. + +_Mrs. M._ (who has left her seat and gone round to her husband, and is +cracking his almonds with an air of being anxious to conciliate him). The +fact is, Ethel, you unmarried women know nothing at all about it. + +L.W. + + +ORGANIZATIONS FOR MUTUAL AID. + +A French gentleman, M. Court, has lately published in _La Religion Laique_ +a series of articles upon this subject that have attracted much attention. +He proposes the establishment of a national fund for the support of the +aged and infirm, managed by eight members chosen annually, half by the +Chamber of Deputies, half by the Senate. The fund is to be raised by +legacies and donations; by a gift from the state of ten millions of +francs; by a percentage deducted by the state, the departments and the +communes from the pay of those who contract to furnish materials for +building, to do work, etc.; by a tax upon all who employ servants or other +laborers (one franc a month for each employe); and by a deduction from +collateral inheritances (_successions collaterals_). In time, about every +member of the community would be subjected directly or indirectly to +taxation for the support of the institution, and would have a right to its +benefits. + +To the ordinary mind the plan appears wholly impracticable from its +magnitude, if for no other cause; but it is evidently presented in good +faith, and is further proof of the general growth of the sentiment that +capital owes a debt to the labor of the world which cannot be satisfied +with the mere payment of wages. Most of the "sick funds" or other +provisions for the care of disabled workmen in great industrial +establishments owe their origin to the initiative of the proprietor. M. +Godin, the founder of the _Familistere_, a palatial home for the families +of some five hundred men employed in his iron-works at Guise, was one of +the first to institute a fund for mutual assistance and medical service, +supported by means of a tax of twenty cents a month on the salary of each +workman. Foreseeing the troubles that would arise should he attempt to +manage this fund in the interest of his men, he wisely refused to have any +share in this work, and induced them to elect a board of managers from +their own number having entire responsibility in the matter. The board is +composed of eighteen members, each of whom receives from M. Godin an +indemnity of five francs a month for time lost in visiting the sick, +committee-work, etc. + +"The assessment," writes M. Godin, "for the support of the fund to which +the workmen consented amounted to about one per cent. of their earnings. +The chief of the establishment at the same time contributed all the money +resulting from fines for spoiling work and for infractions of the rules of +the manufactory. Thanks to this combination, the three principal causes of +discord between patron and workman on the subject of relief-funds are +removed. First, mistrust and suspicion are avoided. The managers of the +treasury are of their own number, and therefore the workmen feel perfectly +free to hold them to strict account for every sou received or disbursed. +Second, as the fines for breaking the rules are devoted to the fund, the +workmen themselves are the sole gainers. This teaches them to respect the +rules, and they are little disposed to side with the refractory when they +oppose a fine. Third, fines for spoiling work cause no ill-will; indeed, +they are submitted to with a good grace. The fine benefits the fund; and, +moreover, as in the case of fines for breaking rules, the workman has +always a jury of his peers to appeal to: the board of managers is always +at hand to approve or disapprove of the fine." + +The fund thus administered has proved a great blessing to those who have +claims upon it, and the members of the board have worked together over +twelve years in the most exemplary harmony; or, in M. Godin's words, it +has "parfaitement fonctionne sans conflits, sans contestations d'aucune +sorte, et de maniere a donner d'excellentes resultats." The average yearly +receipts have been eighteen thousand nine hundred francs; average +disbursements, eighteen thousand seven hundred and ninety-four francs. +Possibly these facts and figures may be of service to some of our chiefs +of industry who are studying to improve the condition of their employes. + +M.H. + + +NEW YORK AS AN ART-PATRON. + +That cities, like individuals, have idiosyncrasies that may be defined and +estimated, and that may be depended upon to lead to the adoption of a +certain line of action by the community in view of a certain set of +circumstances, is a fact which is continually receiving fresh +illustrations. The attitude of New York toward Mr. Theodore Thomas is a +case in point. There is among the works of the Scottish poet Alexander +Wilson, better known as the "American Ornithologist," a ballad entitled +"Watty and Meg; or, The Wife Reformed." Its moral is for all to read. +Watty's measure of domestic felicity was but scant, and when the burden +laid upon him became greater than he could bear he determined to leave the +cause of his misery: + + Owre the seas I march this morning, + Listed, tested, sworn an' a', + Forced by your confounded girning. + Farewell, Meg! for I'm awa'. + +In view of losing her husband and victim, Meg repented and swore to mend +her ways, conceding even Watty's stipulation to keep the family purse: + + Lastly, I'm to keep the siller: + This upon your saul you swear. + +Mr. Thomas gave New York no such opportunity, and she is now lamenting him +as Tom Hood's "female Ranter" mourns "The Lost Heir," "for he's my darlin' +of darlin's." She wonders why he did not continue + + Sitting as good as gold in the gutter, a-playing at making dirt-pies: + I wonder he left the court, where he was better off than all the other + young boys, + With two bricks, an old shoe, nine oyster-shells and a dead kitten by + way of toys. + +And, in truth, Mr. Thomas got little more from the city he has for +twenty-five years clung to and taught. If he came back, is it not likely +he might meet with the Lost Heir's reception? In the Scotch ballad also we +are left in uncertainty as to the genuineness of Meg's tears and promised +reform; and in any case no one can blame Mr. Thomas for announcing his +intention only after it was beyond alteration. + +It is not that New York cares for the money which would have kept him. +When did it refuse money when its sympathies were aroused? Look at its +magnificent charities, its help to Chicago, to famine-stricken China, and +the thousands that were daily poured into the hands of the sufferers from +yellow fever in the South. Religion is supported with the same munificent +liberality. But when literature, music or art are to be sustained, the +community becomes either flighty or apathetic. The best of New York's +monuments are the gifts either of societies formed upon the basis of a +common sentiment with which society at large has no active sympathy, or of +men of other nationalities. It has been broadly hinted that New York would +never have acquired the Cesnola collection of Cypriote pottery, gems and +statuary had it not found a competitor in England. The luxury of beating +the Britishers was too tempting to be declined, and led to a result which +might not have been reached had the question been nothing more than one of +art and art-education. Competition supplied the stimulus which should have +been furnished by a sense of the desirability of securing a collection so +rich and in every way, historically and artistically, so valuable. The New +York public, again, was never really interested in the Castellani +collection. It grudged the additional entrance-fee of twenty-five cents +levied by the trustees of the Metropolitan Museum. No leader arose to open +its eyes to the true value of a complete collection of majolica and +mediaeval jewelry. The only known authority upon the subject of ceramics +proved to be a blind leader of the blind, and the only result of Mr. +Clarence Cook's interference was to leave the aforesaid gentleman in the +melancholy plight of a plucked crow. The collection was reshipped to +Europe while the feathers were still flying, and the public felt itself to +be a gainer to the extent of witnessing a piece of good sport. No sense of +loss spoiled its enjoyment of the fun. + +When, some months ago, it was announced that a college of music was to be +founded, New York scarcely paused to examine the plans of the proposed +building. The scheme fell prone to the ground upon the day of its birth. +The few who were in earnest communicated none of their fire to the +community at large. Society looked upon Mr. Thomas in a precisely similar +manner. It complacently regarded him as the greatest conductor of the age, +and its complacency was fed by its having an imaginary proprietary +interest in him. But while the few who really understood him and the +themes he handled bowed to him as their Apollo, the many had no real +homage to pay either of heart or head. He educated the people, and the +people believed in him and in the dictum of judges more competent than +they. But he was always above them, the men of influence and wealth who in +all such matters represent and _are_ society. He led them to lofty +heights, but no sooner had they reached one than he was seen flying to +another loftier still and still more perilous. He worked, moreover, as +only a genius and an enthusiast could work. He began by winning his +auditors. He went down to their level, humored them, pleased them, and +then filled their ears with music that was ravishing even when only +partially intelligible. Insensibly they grew to like it, and although +defections were large and many refused to rise above the "popular" +standard, there is no doubt that he succeeded in elevating the taste of +the general public. Year by year he was bringing his audiences nearer to +himself, and year by year he was winning new converts from the love of the +meretricious and flashy to that of the noble and pure. + +He alone derived no benefit from his labors. He had no adequate support, +no relief from the most sordid and worrying cares of life. He found +himself almost forced into competition that was degrading. Had he entered +into it he would have thrown down with his own hand the structure he had +spent his life in rearing. He was alternately warmed by the admiration and +love of a few and chilled by general apathy, and has chosen wisely in +going where he will at least be lifted above the necessity of struggling +for subsistence. New York has lost him, but had it known that Cincinnati +was trying to coax him away it would have let him go never. + +It is singular that the matter of making New York attractive to the lovers +of art and music is never looked at by its wealthy citizens from the +commercial point of view. Art and music exert influences that can be +computed upon strict business principles, and the policy of neglecting +them is extremely short-sighted. Every addition to the attractions of a +city, and especially of a city essentially commercial, is an addition to +its prosperity. The prestige that would have accrued to New York, and the +wealth that would certainly have been attracted to it, had it adopted +Cincinnati's course of action, would unquestionably have far more than +compensated for the outlay attending the endowment of a college of music +and the engagement of Theodore Thomas. With this assumption the +idiosyncrasy of New York may be viewed in full. Like the prudent merchant +of moderate attainments and medium culture, it is not far-seeing when a +question arises not strictly in its line of business. Sympathetic, +outwardly decorous, keenly sensitive, full of pity for the suffering, New +York enters the field of art in a purely mercantile spirit. It has no +love, but only that peculiar kind of affection that is the outgrowth of +triumph over a rival. An individual parallel might be found in the case of +the old gentleman who haunted the auction-rooms and filled his house with +loads of vases, bronzes and the like. "It's not the things I care for," he +said, "but there isn't a millionaire in the city I haven't outbid in +getting them together." + +J.J. + + +ONE OF THE SIDE ISSUES OF THE PARIS EXPOSITION. + +Slowly, but not the less surely, does the succession of international +industrial expositions strengthen the sentiment of peace among the +nations. Those who were interested in observing how gradually our +civilization is becoming industrial can remember during the Centennial +Exposition several notable instances of this. The Exposition of Paris and +the recent arbitration at Berlin have both stimulated the thought of +Europe in this direction, and the following instances of the direction it +is taking will be of interest, especially as they are such as are not +likely to be noticed by the regular correspondents. + +A pamphlet has been published at Foix, one of the provincial towns of +France, entitled, _Les Rondes de la Paix_. It was written by M. Adolphe de +Lajour, and its scope will appear from the following extract: "Why not +declare Constantinople and the Straits neutral? Why not declare +Constantinople the city for congresses of _unity_--the metropolis, the +Washington, of the United States of the two worlds? Why from the various +populations, differing in race, in manners, in religion and in language, +who inhabit the Balkan peninsula, should not a confederation of the United +States of the Danube be created on the model of Switzerland?" + +In the Exposition itself a printed sheet has been distributed, entitled +"La Marseillaise de la Paix." It was printed by the associated compositors +in the office of M.A. Chaix, who has recently organized his establishment +so that a share in the profits is accorded to the workers. The first two +verses of this new version will suffice to show its character: + + Allons, enfant de la patrie, + La jour de gloire est arrive. + De la Paix, de la Paix cherie, + L'etendard brillant est leve! (_bis_) + Entendez-vous vers nos frontieres, + Tous les peuples ouvrant leurs bras, + Crier a nos braves soldats: + Soyons unis, nous sommes freres! + Plus d'armes, citoyens, rompez vos bataillons! + Chantez, + Chantons! + Et que la Paix feconde nos sillons! + + Pourquoi ces fusils, ces cartouches? + Pourquoi ces obus, ces canons? + Pourquoi ces cris, ces chants farouches, + Ces fiers defis aux nations? (_bis_) + Pour nous Francais, oh! quelle gloire, + De montrer au monde dompte, + Que les droits de l'humanite + Sont plus sacres que la victoire! + Plus d'armes, etc. + +E.H. + + + + +LITERATURE OF THE DAY. + + +Superstition and Force: Essays on the Wager of Law, the Wager of Battle, +the Ordeal, Torture. By Henry C. Lea. Third Edition, revised. +Philadelphia: Henry C. Lea. + +Many will be tempted to say that this, like the _Decline and Fall_, is one +of the uncriticisable books. Its facts are innumerable, its deductions +simple and inevitable, and its _chevaux-de-frise_ of references bristling +and dense enough to make the keenest, stoutest and best-equipped assailant +think twice before advancing. Nor is there anything controversial in it to +provoke an assault. The author is no polemic. Though he obviously feels +and thinks strongly, he succeeds in attaining impartiality. He even +represses comment until it serves for little more than a cement for his +data. What of argument there is shapes itself mostly from his collation. +The minute and recondite records he throws together, in as much sequence +as the chaotic state of European institutions and society in the Middle +Ages will allow, are left to their own eloquence. And eloquent they are. +Little beyond the citation of them is needed to show the brutality of +chivalry, the selfish cruelty of sacerdotalism, and the wretchedness of +the masses enslaved by political and religious superstition, until Roman +law had a second time, after an interval of a thousand years, effected a +conquest of the Northern barbarians. The work does not confine itself, +historically, to that period nor to Europe, but what excursions are made +outside of that time and country are chiefly in the way of introduction +and conclusion. The moral defects which produce and perpetuate the follies +and abuses discussed by Mr. Lea are confined to no time or race. They are +inherent and abiding, and he takes care not to let us forget that the +struggle to subdue them cannot anywhere or at any time be safely relaxed. +We inherit, with their other possessions, the weaknesses and proclivities +of our ancestors, and we even find some of their specific acts of error +and injustice still imbedded in the institutions under which we live, and +more or less vividly reproduced in the routine of individual, corporate or +public existence. The compurgator slides into the witness and the juryman, +bringing with him the oath on the Bible and trial for perjury, and the +feed champion of the Church into the patron. The ordeal of battle is +fought out bloodlessly by lawyers, with often quite as little regard to +the merits of the case as could have been shown in the olden lists. Only +the baser physical ordeals, of fire, hot and cold water, etc., with +torture as a part of the regular machinery of justice, have died out, +evidencing the great rise in intelligence and independence of the bulk of +the people--the "lower orders" to whom these gross expedients were chiefly +applied. Other forms of legal outrage, however, less apparent and palpable +to the senses, have run deep into the nineteenth century, and are not yet +wholly abolished. Mr. Lea, by the way, does not, we observe, refer to the +trial of Bambridge in 1729 for torturing prisoners for debt "in violation +of the laws of England." Perhaps he threw it aside in the redundance of +other illustrative material. We must add, as proof of his impartiality, +the comparatively slight mention made of torture under the Inquisition--a +thing of which we have been told so much as to have fallen into a sort of +popular belief that the Holy Office had a monopoly of this particular +atrocity. + +Man will always, in some guise or other, manifest his faith in and +dependence on miracles, and will never cease to implore the special +interposition of the Deity. It is so much simpler thus to make a daily +convenience of his Creator than to consult those dry abstractions, the +laws of Nature. Of this deep and tiresome _x_ and _y_ he has not time to +solve the equation, granting it to be, in its ultimate terms, soluble. Who +shall say in each instance whether the impulse to decline that method and +adopt the shorter be superstition or religion? + +Whether looked on as a picture or a mirror, a work such as this has +lasting value. It enables us at any time to gauge the progress of +enlightenment, to ascertain what real gain has been made, what is +delusive, and what remains to be done that it is possible to do; for we +must not expect the record of human fatuity to be closed in our day. + + +The Witchery of Archery. By Maurice Thompson. New York: Charles Scribner's +Sons. + +The author of this little volume certainly succeeds in proving the truth +of his title to the extent of convincing his readers that archery has its +witchery; and we gather from his words that he has made practical converts +and imparted to many some portion of his own devotion to the immemorial +implement he may be said to have, in this country and among its white +inhabitants, reinvented. Seated in our easy-chair, we follow him gayly and +untiringly into the depths of the woods, drink in the rich, cool, damp +air, and revel in the primeval silence that is only broken by the twang of +the bowstring or the call of its destined victim. We enjoy his marvellous +shots with some little infusion of envy, and his exemplary patience under +ill-success and repeated failure with perhaps more. We end, like his +"Cracker" friend, with respecting sincerely the "bow-and-arrers" we were +at first disposed to view with amused contempt; and we close the book with +an unqualified recognition of the value of the bow as a means of athletic +training--a healthful recreation for those who have difficulty in finding +such means. + +This ancient weapon of war and the chase, which has won so many battles +and conquered so many kingdoms, has since the introduction of gunpowder +been too readily allowed to sink into a plaything for boys. They retain +something of a passion for it. Many can remember when they were wont to +select the choicest splits of heart-hickory from the wood-pile, lay them +aside to season, and then shape them, or have them shaped by stronger and +defter hands, into the four-foot bow, equivalent to the six-foot bow of +the man. The arrows were harder to get in any satisfactory quantity, for +they were rapidly shot away, and they were hard to properly point and +scientifically feather. The processes were altogether too abstruse to come +out well from homemade work in boyish hands. So the results were not +usually brilliant, being confined to the destruction of a few sparrows, +the breaking of some windows and the serious maltreatment of the family +cat. Such achievements did not commend themselves to parents, and archery +rested under a cloud from which it failed to emerge as the youthful +practitioners grew up. It retained its charm for them in books, however. +The visit of Peter Parley to Wampum was the most delightful part of that +historian's works; and Robin Hood and William Tell earned a yearning and +trustful admiration which refuses to yield to the criticisms employed in +reducing those characters to myths--triumphs of the "long-bow" in another +sense. And here we are reminded that Mr. Thompson's affection is lavished +wholly on the long-bow. The cross-bow, a weapon which largely superseded +it in the Middle Ages for war and sport, the English gentleman's +"birding-piece" before he took to the gun, he will not hear of. The +sportsman of tender years often prefers it. It is less troublesome in the +matter of ammunition. Any missile will answer for it, from a sixpenny nail +to a six-inch pewter-headed bolt--projectiles which travel two hundred +yards with force and precision. The draft on the muscular strength is of +course the same with either form of the bow, but the long-bow admits of +its being more easily graduated, and is therefore preferable for the +exercise-ground. + +Mr. Thompson, we observe, seems to disregard the spiral arrangement of the +feather, and the rotary movement around the axis of flight imparted by it +to the arrow. He uses three strips of feather, which is better than two +flat ones for the purpose of keeping the missile steady, but still does +not prevent its swerving toward the end of its course, as more than one +vexatious incident of his hunting record shows. This usage may help to +account for the superiority of the old bowmen to the amateurs of to-day in +accuracy at long ranges. The best targets reported on the part of the +latter, such as "eleven shots in a nine-inch bull's-eye, out of thirteen, +at forty yards," and "ten successive shots in a sheet of paper eight +inches square at thirty yards," are poor by the side of the exploits of +the yeomen and foresters on the archery-grounds of yore. To split a +willow-wand at two hundred paces must have required something in the way +of practice and system more precise and absolute than the guesswork Mr. +Thompson concedes to be unavoidable to-day with the utmost care and +experience. It could not have been done with a missile liable, in the +calmest atmosphere, the moment it passed the point-blank, to unaccountable +aberrations, vertically and horizontally. + + +The China-Hunters' Club. By the Youngest Member. New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +The literature of which this is a new specimen would have astonished the +reading public of ten years ago, as it probably will that of ten years +hence. Library shelves which knew it not at the former period are nearly +filled now, and fast becoming crowded. Shall we predict that at the future +date named their contents will be nearly invisible for dust? No. Much of +what is going through the press on the subject of pottery will have its +use as promoting the advancement and clearing up the history of fictile +art, and will therefore be preserved, while a larger portion will interest +only the few who delve into the records of human caprice and whim. Even +these will not particularly care to know or remember what factory-brand +was borne by the teapots and saucers of our grandmothers, and what +Staffordshire modeller or woodcutter was responsible for the usually +atrocious decorations of those utensils. They will smile but once over the +pleasant lunacy of a hunt, printed and illustrated, among New England +cottages for forgotten and more or less damaged crockery. The Youngest +Member herself--by that time promoted probably to the ranks of the matrons +whose treasures she delights to ransack--will be slow to recall and +understand her enthusiasm of to-day, and marvel at her ever having +detected charms in the homely things of clay she deems worthy of the +graver. We, her contemporaries, however, living in the midst of the +contagion to which she is a conspicuous victim, can follow her flying +footsteps in the chase after potsherds with some sympathy, lag though we +may far in the rear. We enjoy the lively style in which she depicts her +"finds," and the bright web of sentiment and story with which she weaves +them into unity. The receptacles of beer, tea, cider and shaving-soap that +figure in her woodcuts are old friends we are glad to see again, and none +the less so for the somewhat startling duty they are made to perform in +the illustration of aesthetic culture. We learn secrets about them we never +dreamed of before. We are told where they came from, have explained to us +the mystic meaning of their designs, and are pointed to the stamps on +their bottoms or some other out-of-the-way part of their anatomy +infallibly betraying their age, nativity and parentage. Every reader will +be treated to special revelations of this sort, some more, some less, some +one and some another. For our individual share we are favored with +enlightenment as to three of our private possessions. One of these is the +Dog Fo, a little white Chinese monstrosity. We have been familiar from +childhood with two of him, seated in unspeakable but complacent +hideousness at the opposite ends of the chimney-piece. No. 2 is a gallon +pitcher, sacred to the gingerbread of two generations, and ornamented with +a ship under full sail on one side and a coat-of-arms on the other, not +now remembered, the whole article having recently disappeared in some way +or direction unknown and untraceable unless by the most indefatigable of +ceramists. The third is a smaller pitcher in mottled unglazed clay, +antique in shape and ornamentation, except that a figure in the costume of +Queen Bess's time stands cheek-by-jowl with a group resembling that on the +Portland Vase. This anachronism caused us to be puzzled by the word +Herculaneum impressed on the bottom, not unworthy as the general beauty of +the work was of such a source. The mystery stands explained by the book +before us. Herculaneum was the name of a manufactory of earthenware near +Liverpool, in this case almost as misleading as the inscription of Julius +Caesar on a dog-collar too hastily inferred to have been worn by a canine +pet of the great dictator. + +The author concludes, "as a result of our hunting along the roads of New +England, that there is a great deal of money-value in old crockery which +lies idle in pantries, and that collectors who have money to spend do a +great deal of good in a small way by giving the money for the crockery. +And, strange as you may think it, it is very rare to find an owner of old +pottery in the country, whatever be the family associations, who would not +rather have the money." + + + + +_Books Received._ + +Plays for Private Acting. Translated from the French and Italian. By +Members of the Bellevue Dramatic Club of Newport. (Leisure-Hour Series.) +New York: Henry Holt & Co. + +A Primer of German Literature. By Helen S. Conant.--A Year of American +Travel. By Jessie Benton Fremont.--Hints to Women on the Care of Property. +By Alfred Walker. (Harper's Half-Hour Series.) New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +A Handbook of Politics for 1878: Being a Record of Important Political +Action, National and State, from July 15, 1876, to July 1, 1878. By Hon. +Edward McPherson, LL.D., of Gettysburg, Pa. Washington: Solomons & +Chapman. + +Christine Brownlee's Ordeal. By Mary Patrick.--A Beautiful Woman. By Leon +Brook. (Nos. 7 and 8 of Franklin Square Library.) New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +The Cossacks: A Tale of the Caucasus in 1852. By Count Leo Tolstoy. +Translated from the Russian by Eugene Schuyler. New York: Charles +Scribner's Sons. + +D'ye Want a Shave? or, Yankee Shavings; or, A New Way to get a Wife: A +Three-Act Comedy. By William Bush. St. Louis. William Bush. + +Colonel Dunwoddie, Millionaire. (No. 5 Harper's Library of American +Fiction.) New York: Harper & Brothers. + +Play-Day Poems. Collected and edited by Rossiter Johnson. (Leisure-Hour +Series.) New York: Henry Holt & Co. + +Maid Ellice: A Novel. By Theodore Gift. (Leisure-Hour Series.) New York: +Henry Holt & Co. + +Chums: A Satirical Sketch. By Howard MacSherry. Jersey City: Charles S. +Clarke, Jr. + +The Student's French Grammar. By Charles Heron Wall. New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +The Ring of Amethyst. By Alice Wellington Rollins. New York: G.P. Putnam's +Sons. + +The Crew of the "Sam Weller." By John Habberton. New York: G.P. Putnam's +Sons. + +Saxe Holm's Stories. Second Series. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. + +Samuel Johnson. By Leslie Stephen. New York: Harper & Brothers. + + + + +_Music Received._ + +The Battle Prayer. By Himmel. Part-songs for Male Voices, No. 4. (Lotus +Club Collection.) Composed and arranged by A.H. Rosewig. Philadelphia: Wm. +H. Boner & Co. + +Weep no More: Song. Words by Mrs. A.B. Benham; Music by Augustus V. +Benham, the great Child Pianist. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner & Co. + +Who is Sylvia? Song for Soprano or Tenor. (English, German and Italian +Words.) By Franz Schubert. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner & Co. + +Whoa, Emma! Written and Composed by John Read. Philadelphia: Wm. H. Boner +& Co. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[A] Lord Beaconsfield is not the first to appreciate the strategic value +of Cyprus. It was fully valued by the Venetians, as well as by the Knights +of St. John, who would fain have made _it_ their island-fortress instead +of Rhodes; while Napoleon singled it out as one of the principal points in +his projected anti-Turkish campaign in 1798. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular +Literature and Science, Volume 22. October, 1878., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + +***** This file should be named 19093.txt or 19093.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/0/9/19093/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Christine D. and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/19093.zip b/19093.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..318e9cc --- /dev/null +++ b/19093.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce52a7e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #19093 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19093) |
