initial commit of ebook 22770HEADmain

129 files changed, 25164 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/22770-8.txt b/22770-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..15ea495
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8112 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5,
+May, 1864, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5, May, 1864
+       Devoted To Literature And National Policy
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2007 [EBook #22770]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:
+
+DEVOTED TO
+
+LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.
+
+
+VOL. V.--MAY, 1864.--No. V.
+
+
+
+
+AMERICAN FINANCES AND RESOURCES.
+
+LETTER NO. V. OF HON. ROBERT J. WALKER.
+
+
+LONDON, 10 Half Moon Street, Piccadilly,
+_February 8th, 1864_.
+
+In my third and fourth letters on American finances and resources, the
+following comparisons were instituted: Massachusetts and New Jersey,
+Free States, with Maryland and South Carolina, Slave States; New York
+and Pennsylvania, Free States, with Virginia, Slave State; Rhode Island,
+Free State, with Delaware, Slave State; Illinois, Free State, with
+Missouri, Slave State; the Free States of 1790, with the Slave States of
+that day; the Free States of 1860, with the Slave States of that date.
+These comparisons were based on the official returns of the Census of
+the United States, and exhibited in each case and in the aggregate the
+same invariable result, the vastly superior progress of the Free States
+in wealth, population, and education.
+
+I will now institute one other comparison, Kentucky, slaveholding, with
+Ohio, a Free State.
+
+Kentucky--population in 1790, 73,077; Ohio, none. 1800: Kentucky,
+220,955; Ohio, 45,365. 1860: Kentucky, 1,155,684; Ohio, 2,339,502. We
+must institute the comparison from 1800, as Ohio was a wilderness in
+1790, when Kentucky had a population of 73,077. In Kentucky, the ratio
+of increase of population from 1800 to 1860 was 527.98 per cent., and in
+the same period in Ohio 5,057.08. (Table 1, Census 1860.) Thus from 1800
+to 1860 Ohio increased in nearly tenfold the ratio of Kentucky.
+
+WEALTH.--By Tables 33 and 36, Census of 1860, the value of the product
+of 1859 was as follows:
+
+  Ohio,                   $337,619,000
+
+  Kentucky,                115,408,000
+
+  _Per Capita._
+
+  Ohio,                       $144 31
+
+  Kentucky,                     99 92
+
+Thus is it, that, while in 1790 and 1800 Kentucky was so very far in
+advance of Ohio, yet, in 1860, so vast was the advance of Ohio as
+compared with Kentucky, that the value of the product of Ohio was nearly
+triple that of Kentucky, and, _per capita_, much more than one third
+greater. No reason can be assigned for these remarkable results, except
+that Kentucky was slaveholding, and Ohio a Free State.
+
+Their area is nearly the same, and they are adjacent States; the soil of
+Kentucky is quite equal to that of Ohio, the climate better for crops
+and stock, and the products more various.
+
+We have seen the actual results in 1860, but if Kentucky had increased
+in population from 1800 to 1860 in the same ratio as Ohio, Kentucky then
+would have numbered 11,175,970, or nearly ten times her present
+population; and if the product had been the same as in Ohio, _per
+capita_, the value would have been $1,612,804,230, or more than fourteen
+times greater than the result. Thus it is demonstrated by the official
+Tables of the Census of the United States, that if Kentucky had
+increased in wealth and population from 1800 to 1860 in the same ratio
+as Ohio, the results would have been as follows:
+
+Kentucky: population in 1860, 11,175,970; actual population in 1860,
+1,155,684; value of products in 1860, $1,612,804,230; actual value in
+1860, $115,408,000.
+
+Some attempt has been made to account for these marvellous results, by
+stating that Ohio has a border on one of the lakes, and Kentucky has
+not. But to this it may be replied, that Kentucky borders for twice the
+distance on the Ohio River, has a large front on the Mississippi River,
+and embraces within her limits those noble streams, the Cumberland and
+Tennessee Rivers, making, together with the Big Sandy, Licking,
+Kentucky, Green, and Barren Rivers, the natural advantages of Kentucky
+for navigation, superior to those of Ohio. But a conclusive answer to
+this argument is found in the fact that, omitting all the counties of
+Ohio within the lake region, the remainder, within the valley of the
+Ohio River, contain a population more than one half greater than that of
+the whole State of Kentucky.
+
+LANDS.-The farm lands, improved and unimproved, of Ohio, in 1860, were
+worth $666,564,171. The number of acres 20,741,138, value per acre
+$32.13. (Census of 1860, p. 197, Table 36.) The farm lands of Kentucky,
+improved and unimproved, were worth $291,496,953, the number of acres
+19,163,276, worth per acre, $15.21. (_Ib._) Difference in favor of Ohio,
+$375,067,165. But if to this we add the difference between the value of
+the town and city lots and unoccupied lands of Ohio and Kentucky, the
+sum is $125,009,000, which added to the former sum ($375,067,165) makes
+the difference in favor of Ohio $500,076,165, when comparing the value
+of all her lands with those of Kentucky. We have seen that the value of
+the products in 1860 was, Ohio $337,619,000, Kentucky $115,408,000. But
+these products embrace only agriculture, manufactures, the mines, and
+fisheries.
+
+We have no complete tables for commerce in either State, but the canals
+and railroads are as follows (Census of 1860, No. 38, pp. 225, 226,
+233): Ohio: Miles of railroad, 3,016.83; cost of construction,
+$113,299,514. Kentucky: Miles of railroad, 569.93; cost of construction,
+$19,068,477. Estimated value of freight transported on these railroads
+in 1860: Ohio, $502,105,000; Kentucky, $48,708,000. On the 1st of
+January, 1864, the number of miles of railroad in operation in Ohio was
+3,356.74, costing $130,454,383, showing a large increase since 1860,
+while in Kentucky there was none. (Amer. R. R. Journal, p. 61, vol. 37.)
+Canals in 1860 (Census Table 39): Ohio, 906 miles; Kentucky, two and a
+half miles. These Tables all prove how vast has been the increase of the
+wealth of Ohio as compared with Kentucky.
+
+Let us now examine some of the educational statistics.
+
+By Census Table 37, giving the newspapers and periodicals in the United
+States in 1860, the whole number of that year was 4,051, of which only
+879 were in the Slave States; total number of copies circulated that
+year in the United States, 927,951,548, of which number there were
+circulated in the Slave States only 167,917,188. This Table shows the
+total number of newspapers and periodicals published in Ohio in 1859 was
+340, and the number of copies circulated that year in that State was
+71,767,742. In Kentucky, the number of newspapers and periodicals
+published in 1859 was 77, and the number of copies circulated that year
+was 13,504,044, while South Carolina, professing to instruct and control
+the nation, had a circulation of 3,654,840, although South Carolina, in
+1790, had a population of 249,073, when Ohio was a wilderness, and
+Kentucky numbered only 73,077.
+
+As regards education, we must take the Tables for the Census of 1850,
+those for 1860 not having been yet published.
+
+By Table 144, Census of 1850, the total number of pupils in public and
+private schools, colleges, and academies, was for that year as follows:
+Ohio, 502,826. Kentucky, 85,914. Percentage of native free population
+who cannot read or write (Table 155), Ohio 3.24; Kentucky, 9.12; Slave
+States, native white adults who cannot read or write, ratio 17.23; Free
+States, 4.12. (Table 157.) If we include slaves, more than one half the
+adults of the Slave States cannot read or write. Indeed, it is made by
+law in the Slave States a crime (severely punished) to teach any slave
+to read or write. These Tables also show that in South Carolina, the
+great leader of secession, (including slaves) more than three fourths of
+the people can neither read nor write. Such is the State, rejoicing in
+the barbarism of ignorance and slavery, exulting in the hope of reviving
+the African slave trade, whose chief city witnesses each week the
+auction of slaves as chattels, and whose newspapers, for more than a
+century, are filled with daily advertisements by their masters of
+runaway slaves, describing the brands and mutilations to which they have
+been subjected; that passed the first secession ordinance, and commenced
+the war upon the Union by firing upon the Federal flag and garrison of
+Sumter. Yet it is the pretended advocates of peace that justify this war
+upon the Union, and insist that it shall submit to dismemberment without
+a struggle, and permit slavery to be extended over nearly one half the
+national territory, purchased by the blood and treasure of the nation.
+Such a submission to disintegration and ruin--such a capitulation to
+slavery, would have been base and cowardly. It would have justly merited
+for us the scorn of the present, the contempt of the future, the
+denunciation of history, and the execration of mankind. Despots would
+have exultingly announced that 'man is incapable of self-government;'
+while the heroes and patriots in other countries, who, cheered and
+guided by the light of our example, had struggled in the cause of
+popular liberty, would have sunk despairingly from the conflict. This is
+our _real offence_ to European oligarchy, that we will crush this foul
+rebellion, extinguish the slavery by which it was caused, make the Union
+stronger and more harmonious, and thus give a new impulse and an
+irresistible moral influence and power to free institutions.
+
+Let me recapitulate some of the facts referred to in these letters, and
+established by the Census of the United States.
+
+Area of the United States, 3,250,000 square miles, exceeding that of all
+Europe--all compact and contiguous, with richer lands, more mineral
+resources, a climate more salubrious, more numerous and better harbors,
+more various products, and increasing in wealth and population more
+rapidly than any other country.
+
+
+                                   _Miles._
+  Our ocean shore line, including
+  bays, sounds, and rivers,
+  up to the head of tide
+  water                             33,663
+
+  Lake shore line                    3,620
+
+  Shore line of Mississippi River
+  and its tributaries above tide
+  water                              35,644
+
+  Shore line of all our other rivers
+  above tide water is                49,857
+
+                             Total, 122,784
+
+Our country, then, is better watered than any other, and has more
+navigable streams, and greater hydraulic power.
+
+We have completed since 1790, 5,782 miles of canal, costing
+$148,000,000; and 33,860 miles of railroad (more than all the rest of
+the world), costing $1,625,952,215. (Amer. R. R. Journal, 1864, No.
+1,448, vol. 37, p. 61.)
+
+Our land lines of telegraph exceed those of all the rest of the world,
+the single line from New York to San Francisco being 3,500 miles. Our
+mines of coal, according to Sir William Armstrong, the highest British
+authority, are thirty-two times as great as those of the United Kingdom.
+
+Annual product of our mines of gold and silver, $100,000,000, estimated
+at $150,000,000 per annum by our Commissioner of the General Land
+Office, when the Pacific railroad shall be completed.
+
+Public lands unsold, belonging to the Federal Government, 1,055,911,288
+acres, being 1,649,861 square miles, and more than thirty-two times the
+extent of England.
+
+Immigration to the United States from 1850 to 1860, 2,598,216, adding to
+our national wealth during that decade $1,430,000,000.
+
+Education--granted by Congress since 1790 for the purposes of public
+schools--two sections (1,280 acres) in every township (23,040 acres), in
+all 1,450,000,000 acres of public lands; one eighteenth part given,
+being 80,555,555 acres, worth at the minimum price of $1.25 per acre,
+$100,694,443--the real value, however, was much greater.
+
+Granted by Congress for colleges and universities, 12,080,000 acres,
+including 3,553,824 given by the Federal Government to the State of
+Tennessee, worth, at the minimum price of $1.25 per acre, $15,100,000,
+which is much below their true value.
+
+Total in public lands granted by Federal Government for education,
+92,635,555 acres; minimum value, $115,794,443.
+
+In 1836, after full payment of the entire principal and interest of the
+public debt, there remained in the Federal Treasury a surplus of
+$38,000,000, of which about one half, $19,000,000, was devoted to
+educational purposes.
+
+Total Federal appropriations since 1790 for education, $134,794,443.
+
+This is exclusive of the many millions of dollars expended by the
+Federal Government for military and naval schools, etc., at West Point,
+Washington, Annapolis, and Newport. Besides these Federal donations,
+there has been granted by States, Territories, counties, towns, and
+cities of the Union for education, since 1790 (partly estimated)
+$148,000,000. Grand total by States and Federal Government appropriated
+in the United States since 1790, for education, $282,794,443. This is
+independent of numerous private donations for the same purpose, that by
+Mr. Girard exceeding $1,500,000, and that by Mr. Smithson exceeding
+$500,000. It is then a fact that the Governments of the United States,
+State and Federal, since 1790, have appropriated for education more
+money than all the other Governments of the world combined during the
+same period. This is a stupendous fact, and one of the main causes of
+our wonderful progress and prosperity. We believe that 'knowledge is
+power,' and have appropriated nearly $300,000,000, during the last
+seventy-four years, in aid of the grand experiment. We believe that 'man
+is capable of self-government,' but only when educated and enlightened.
+We believe that the power and wealth and progress of nations increase in
+proportion to the education and enlightenment of the masses. We believe
+in intellectual as well as machine and muscular power, and that when the
+millions are educated, and work with their heads as well as their hands,
+the progress of the nation will be most rapid. Our patent office is a
+wonderful illustration of this principle, showing on the part of our
+industrial classes more valuable inventions and discoveries, annually,
+than are produced by the workingmen of all the rest of the world.
+
+  _Population._
+
+  In 1790,      3,922,827
+  In 1800,      5,305,937
+  In 1810,      7,239,814
+  In 1820,      9,638,191
+  In 1830,     12,866,020
+  In 1840      17,069,453
+  In 1850,     23,191,876
+  In 1860,     31,445,080
+
+RATIO OF INCREASE.--From 1790 to 1800, 35.02; from 1800 to 1810, 36.45;
+from 1810 to 1820, 33.13; from 1820 to 1830, 33.49; from 1830 to 1840,
+32.67; from 1840 to 1850, 35.87; from 1850 to 1860, 35.59. Thus it
+appears (omitting territorial acquisitions) that our ratio of increase
+was much greater from 1850 to 1860 than during any preceding decade.
+This was the result of augmented immigration, which is still to go on
+with increased power for many years. Making allowance for all probable
+contingencies, and reducing the decennial increase from 35.59 to three
+per cent. per annum, our able and experienced Superintendent of the
+Census, in his last official report, of 20th May, 1862, gives his own
+estimate of the future population of the United States:
+
+  1870,      42,328,432
+  1880,      56,450,241
+  1890,      77,263,989
+  1900,     100,355,802
+
+That, in view of our new Homestead law--our high wages--the extinction
+of slavery--increased confidence in our institutions--and augmented
+immigration, these results will be achieved, can scarcely be doubted. As
+population becomes more dense in Europe, there will be an increased
+immigration to our Union, and each new settler writes to his friends
+abroad, and often remits money to induce them to join him in his Western
+home. The electric ocean telegraph will soon unite Europe with America,
+and improved communications are constantly shortening the duration of
+the voyage and diminishing the expense. Besides, this war has made us
+much better known to the European _masses_, who, everywhere, with great
+unanimity and enthusiasm sustain our cause, and, with slavery
+extinguished, will still more prefer our institutions.
+
+From all these causes there will be an augmented exodus from Europe to
+America, when our rebellion is suppressed, and slavery overthrown.
+Besides, the President of the United States now proposes appropriations
+of money by Congress in aid of immigration, and such will become the
+policy of our Government. We have seen the official estimate made by our
+Superintendent of the Census, but if we take the ratio of increase of
+the last decade, the result would be as follows:
+
+  1870,      42,636,858
+  1880,      57,791,315
+  1890,      78,359,243
+  1900,     106,247,297
+
+The estimate of the Superintendent is, therefore, six millions less than
+according to the ratio from 1850 to 1860, and much less than from 1790
+to 1860.
+
+When we reflect that if, as densely settled as Massachusetts, our
+population would exceed 513,000,000, or if numbering as many to the
+square mile as England, our inhabitants would then be more than twelve
+hundred millions, the estimate of 100,000,000 for the year 1900 cannot
+be regarded as improbable.
+
+Our national wealth was
+
+  in 1850,       $7,135,780,228
+
+  In 1860,      $16,159,616,068
+
+  Increase from 1850 to 1860, 126.45 per cent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the same rate of increase for the four succeeding decades, the result
+would be:
+
+  In 1870,    $36,593,450,585
+  In 1880,     82,865,868,849
+  In 1890,    187,314,053,225
+  In 1900,    423,330,438,288
+
+  _Tonnage._
+
+  In 1841,               1,368,127 tons.
+  "  1851,               3,772,439 "
+  "  1861,               5,539,812 "
+
+  At the same rate of increase as from 1851 to 1861, the result would be:
+
+  In 1871,             8,134,578 tons.
+  "  1881,            11,952,817 "
+  "  1891,            17,541,514 "
+  "  1901,            25,758,948 "
+
+Total number of copies of our newspapers and periodicals circulated in
+the United States in 1860, 927,951,548, exceeding that of all the rest
+of the world.
+
+Let us now recapitulate the results from our Census, founded on a
+comparison of the Slave and Free States.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MASSACHUSETTS.--Free State.                   MARYLAND.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 7,800 square miles                     11,124 square miles.
+Population in 1790, 378,717                  319,728.
+    "         1860, 1,231,066                687,049.
+Products in 1859, $287,000,000               $66,000,000.
+    "    per capita, $235                    $96.
+Railroads, 1,340 miles                       380 miles.
+    " cost, $61,857,203                      $21,387,157.
+Freight of 1860, $500,524,201                $101,111,348.
+Tonnage built in 1860, 34,460 tons           7,789.
+Bank capital, $64,519,200                    $12,568,962.
+Imports and exports, $58,190,816             $18,786,323.
+Value of property, $815,237,433              $376,919,944.
+Gross profit on capital,
+  35 per cent                                17 per cent.
+Copies of press circulated
+  in 1860, 102,000,760                       20,723,472.
+Pupils at public schools
+  in 1860, 176,475                           33,254.
+Volumes in public libraries,
+  684,015                                    125,042.
+Value of churches, $10,206,000               $3,947,884.
+
+
+NEW YORK.--Free State.                       VIRGINIA.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 47,000 square miles                    61,392 square miles.
+Population in 1790, 340,120                  748,308.
+     "        1860, 3,880,735                1,596,318.
+Product of 1859, $606,000,000                $120,000,000.
+Per capita, $156                             $75.
+Gross profit on capital,
+  34 per cent                                15 per cent.
+Value per acre of
+  farm lands, $38.26                         $11.91.
+Railroads, 2,842 miles                       1,771 miles.
+   " cost of construction,
+  $138,395,055                               $64,958,807.
+Freight in 1860, $579,681,790                $110,000,000.
+Canals, 1,038 miles                          178 miles.
+  " cost, $67,567,972                        $7,817,000.
+Tonnage built in 1860, 31,936                4,372.
+Bank capital, $111,441,320                   $16,005,156.
+Exports and imports,
+  1860, $394,045,326                         $7,184,273.
+Copies of press circulated
+  in 1860, 320,980,884                       26,772,518.
+Pupils at public schools
+  in 1860, 675,221                           67,428.
+Volumes in public libraries,
+  1,760,820                                  88,462.
+Value of churches, $21,539,561               $2,002,220.
+Percentage of native free
+  population who cannot
+  read or write, 1.87                        19.90.
+
+Compare the column as regards Virginia with the returns for
+Pennsylvania, and the result is nearly as remarkable as that of New
+York.
+
+Pennsylvania, area 46,000, population in 1790, 434,373; in 1860,
+2,900,115. Products of 1859, $399,600,000, _per capita_, $138, profit on
+capital, 22 per cent. Value of farm lands per acre, $38.91. Railroads,
+2,690 miles, costing $147,483,410. Canals, 1,259 miles, costing
+$42,015,000. Tonnage built in 1860, 21,615 tons. Bank capital,
+$25,565,582. Exports and imports, $20,262,608, Copies of press
+circulated in 1860,116,094,480. Pupils at public schools, 413,706.
+Volumes in public libraries, 363,400. Value of churches, $11,853,291.
+
+
+ILLINOIS.--Free State.                     MISSOURI.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 55,405 square miles                    67,380 square miles.
+
+Population, 1810, 12,282                     20,845.
+      " 1860, 1,711,951                      1,182,012.
+
+Ratio of increase from 1810 to 1860,
+13,838 per ct.                               5,570.
+
+Railroads in operation in 1860, 2,868 miles  817 miles.
+
+Ditto, 1st of January, 1864, 3,080 miles     914 miles.
+
+Value of farm lands, 1860, $432,531,072      $230,632,126.
+
+Canals, 102 miles                            none.
+
+Ratio of increased value of property from
+1850 to 1860, 458 per cent.                  265 per cent.
+
+At same ratio from 1860 to 1870, as from
+1850 to 1860, total wealth in 1870 would
+be $3,993,000,000                            $1,329,000,000.
+
+
+RHODE ISLAND.--Free State.                   DELAWARE.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 1,306 square miles                     2,120 square miles.
+
+Population in 1792, 69,110                   59,096.
+      "       1860, 174,520                  112,216.
+
+Product in 1859, $52,400,000                 $16,100,000.
+
+Value of property in 1860, $135,000,000      $46,242,181.
+
+Bank capital, $20,865,569                    $1,640,675.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 5,289,280    1,010,776.
+
+Pupils at public schools, 23,130             8,970.
+
+Volumes in public libraries, 104,342         17,950.
+
+Pupils at colleges and academies, 3,664      764.
+
+Percentage of native free adults who cannot
+read or write, 1.49                          23.03.
+
+Value of churches, $1,293,700                $340,345.
+
+
+NEW JERSEY.--Free State.                     SOUTH CAROLINA.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 8,320 square miles                     24,500 square miles.
+
+Population in 1790, 184,139                  249,073.
+    "         1860, 672,035                  703,708.
+
+Ratio of increase from 1790 to 1860,
+265 per cent.                                182 per cent.
+
+Population per square mile in 1860, 80.77    28.72.
+
+Increase of population per square mile
+from 1790 to 1860, 58.64 per cent.           18.55 per cent.
+
+Ditto from 1850 to 1860, 21.93 per cent.     1.44 per cent.
+
+Population in 1860, remaining the same per   Population in 1860, remaining
+square mile, if area equal to that of South  the same per _square mile_, if
+Carolina, 1,978,650.                         area equal to that of New
+                                             Jersey, 238,950.
+
+Product of 1859, $167,398,003                $46,445,782.
+
+Per capita, $249                             $66.
+
+Farm lands, 1860, improved and unimproved
+acres, 2,983,531                             15,595,860.
+
+Value in 1860, $180,250,338                  $139,652,508.
+
+Agricultural products of 1860, $86,398,000   $39,645,728.
+
+Product per acre, $28.96                     $2.54.
+
+Improved lands, 1,944,445 acres              4,572,060 acres.
+
+Product per acre, $44.43                     $8.67.
+
+Value of farm lands per acre, $60.42         $8.95.
+
+                                             Value of farm lands, if worth
+                                             as much per acre as those of
+                                             New Jersey, $942,660,377.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 12,801,412   3,654,840.
+
+Percentage of native free adults who cannot
+read or write, 5.10                          12.73.
+
+Percentage of native white children at
+school, 80.56.                               26.025.
+
+Pupils at colleges, academies, and public
+schools, 88,244                              26.025.
+
+Value of churches, $3,712,863                $2,181,476.
+
+MICHIGAN.--Free State.                       FLORIDA.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 56,243 square miles.                   59,268 square miles.
+
+Population, 1810,   4,762                    16,989, Spanish.
+    "       1820,   8,765                    23,801,    "
+    "       1830,  31,639                    34,730.
+    "       1860, 749,113                    140,425.
+
+Population per square mile in 1810, 0.08     0.28.
+    "       "      "          1820, 0.15     0.38.
+"           "      "          1830, 0.56     0.58.
+"           "      "          1860, 13.32    2.37.
+
+Absolute increase of population from
+1830 to 1860, 717,474                        105,695.
+
+Relative rank in 1830, 25                    26.
+"          "     1860, 16                    31.
+
+Absolute increase of population from
+1850 to 1860 per _square mile_, 6.25         0.89.
+
+Value of total product of 1859, $99,200,000  $12,300,000.
+
+Of agriculture alone, $64,000,000            $9,600,000.
+
+Total product per capita, $132.04            $87.59.
+
+Farm lands improved and unimproved in 1860,
+     6,931,442 acres                         2,849,572 acres.
+
+Improved farm lands, 1860, 3,419,861 acres   676,464 acres.
+
+Value of lands improved and unimproved in
+1860, $163,279,087                           $16,371,684.
+
+Product per acre, $9.23                      $3.01.
+   " of improved land, $18.71                $14.18.
+
+Value of farm lands, 1860, per acre, $23.55  $5.74.
+
+                                             Value of farm lands of
+                                             Florida, if worth as much
+                                             _per acre_ as those of
+                                             Michigan, $67,105,222.
+
+                                             Product of Florida lands, if
+                                             equal_ per acre_ to those of
+                                             Michigan, in 1859,
+                                             $26,300,549.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 11,606,596   1,081,601.
+
+Percentage of native free adults, who cannot
+read or write, 2.84                          9.18.
+
+Public libraries, 107,943 volumes            2,660 volumes.
+
+Pupils in public schools, academies, and
+colleges, 112,382                            3,129.
+
+Percentage of native white children at
+school, 99.53                                35.77.
+
+
+WISCONSIN.--Free State.                      TEXAS.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 53,924 square miles                    274,356 square miles.
+
+Population in 1840, 30,749                   80,983. (Republic.)
+"             1860, 775,881                  604,215.
+
+Population per square mile in 1840, 0.57     0.29.
+     "      "      "          1860, 8.99     2.20.
+
+Increase per square mile from 1840 to 1860,
+8.42.                                        1.91.
+
+Absolute increase of population from 1850
+to 1860 per square mile, 8.99                1.41.
+
+Value of total product of 1859, $101,375,000 $52,749,000.
+
+Of agriculture alone, $72,875,000            $46,499,000.
+
+Total product per capita, $130.39            $87.30.
+
+Farm lands improved and unimproved,
+7,899,170 acres                              23,245,433 acres.
+
+Improved farm lands, 1860, 3,746,036 acres   2,649,207 acres.
+
+Value of lands improved and unimproved in
+1860, $131,117,082                           $104,007,689.
+
+Product per acre of improved and unimproved
+lands in 1859, $9.22                         $2.00.
+
+Product per acre of improved lands in 1859,
+$19.45                                       $17.56.
+
+Value of farm lands per acre, $16.59         $4.47.
+
+                                             Value of farm lands of Texas,
+                                             if worth as much per acre as
+                                             those of Wisconsin,
+                                             $385,641,733.
+
+                                             Product of Texas lands in
+                                             1859, if equal per acre to
+                                             those of Wisconsin,
+                                             $214,212,892.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 10,798,670   7,855,808.
+
+Percentage of native free adults who cannot
+read or write, 1.04                          11.84.
+
+Public libraries, 21,020 volumes             4,230 volumes.
+
+Pupils in colleges and public schools,
+61,615                                       11,500.
+
+Percentage of native white children at
+school, 74.90                                45.82.
+
+
+INDIANA.--Free State.                        TENNESSEE.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 33,809 square miles                    45,600 square miles.
+
+Population, 1790, none                       35,791.
+    "           1800, 4,875                  105,602.
+    "           1860, 1,350,428              1,109,801.
+
+Product of 1859, $175,690,628                $99,894,070.
+
+Agricultural, $132,440,682                   $82,792,070.
+
+Total product, per capita, $130.10           $90.01.
+
+Product of agriculture, per capita, $90.68   $74.60.
+
+Population per square mile in 1800, 0.14     2.31.
+
+Population per square mile, 1860, 39.63      24.34.
+
+Absolute increase of population, from 1850
+to 1860, per square mile, 10.72              2.35.
+
+Relative rank in 1800, 20                    15.
+"            "   1860, 6                     10.
+
+Farm lands improved and unimproved,
+16,315,776 acres                             20,355,934 acres.
+
+Improved do., 8,161,717 acres                6,897,974 acres.
+
+Value of farm lands, $344,903,776            $272,555,054.
+
+Ditto, per acre, $21.13                      $13.39.
+
+Value of product per acre of improved and
+unimproved farm lands, $8.17                 $4.06.
+
+Ditto, of Improved farm lands, $16.26        $12.
+
+Volumes in public libraries, 68,403          22,896.
+
+Pupils at public schools and colleges,
+168,754                                      115,750.
+
+
+FREE STATES OF 1790.                         SLAVE STATES OF 1790.
+
+Namely: Massachusetts (then including        Namely: Delaware, Maryland,
+Maine), Rhode Island, Connecticut,           Virginia, North Carolina,
+New Hampshire, Vermont, New York,            South Carolina, Georgia,
+New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.                Kentucky, and Tennessee.
+
+Area, 169,668 square miles                   300,580 square miles.
+
+Population in 1790, 1,968,459                1,961,372.
+
+"             1860, 10,594,168               7,414,684.
+
+Population per square mile in 1790, 11.60    6.50.
+
+"               "        "    1860, 62.44    24.66.
+
+Increase of population per square mile,
+from 1790 to 1860, 50.84                     18.14.
+
+
+FREE STATES OF 1860.                         SLAVE STATES OF 1860.
+
+Area, 835,631 square miles                   888,591 square miles.
+
+Farm lands, 161,462,000 acres                248,721,062 acres.
+
+Value, $4,067,947,286                        $2,570,466,935.
+
+Value per acre, $25.19                       $10.46.
+
+Total product of 1859, namely: of
+agriculture, manufactures, mines, and
+fisheries, $4,150,000,000                    $1,140,000,000.
+
+Per capita, $217                             $93.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 760,034,360  167,917,188.
+
+By Table 157 (Census of 1850), ratio of
+native white adults who cannot read or
+write, 4.12 per cent.                        17.23 per cent. (more than
+                                             4 to 1).
+
+Same Tables for Census of 1860, partially
+estimated, 3.21 per cent                     17.03 percent. (more than
+                                             5 to 1).
+
+                                             Whole additional value of all
+                                             the Slave States, whether farm
+                                             lands or unoccupied, if worth
+                                             as much per acre as those of
+                                             the Free States,
+                                             $5,859,246,616.
+
+                                             Total value of products of the
+                                             Slave States in 1859, if equal
+                                             per capita to those of the
+                                             Free States, $2,653,631,032.
+
+                                             Deduct actual products of
+                                             1859, $1,140,000,000.
+
+                                             Absolute increase of 1859, if
+                                             Free States $1,513,631,032.
+
+                                             That is, the _additional_
+                                             value of the actual products
+                                             of the Slave States, caused by
+                                             emancipation, $1,513,631,032.
+
+Total value of all the property, real and    Ditto, of all the Slave
+personal, of the Free States in 1860,        States, including slaves,
+ $5,225,307,034.                             852,081,081.
+$10,
+
+Annual gross profit of capital, 39 per cent. 22 per cent.
+
+                                             If we could add the annual
+                                             earnings of commerce (not
+                                             included in the Census
+s T                                          Tables), the yearly product
+                                             of the Free States per capita
+                                             would be almost triple that of
+                                             the Slave States, the commerce
+                                             of New York alone being nearly
+                                             equal to that of the entire
+                                             South.
+
+Total agricultural product of Free States
+in 1859, $2,527,676,000                      $862,324,000 (Slave States).
+
+Agricultural product of Free States per      Ditto of Slave States per capita
+capita in 1859, $131.48                      in 1859, $70.56
+
+Ditto, per acre in 1859, improved and
+unimproved lands, $15.65                     $3.58
+
+Ditto, per acre, improved lands, $28.68      $11.55
+
+It is thus demonstrated by the official statistics of the Census of the
+United States, from 1790 to 1860, that the total annual product of the
+Free States _per capita_ exceeds that of the Slave States, largely more
+than two to one, and, including commerce, very nearly three to one. As
+regards education, also, we see that the ratio in favor of the Free
+States is more than four to one in 1850 (4.12 to 17.23), and, in 1860,
+more than five to one (3.21 to 17.03). And even as regards agricultural
+products, we have seen that those of the Free States were $2,527,676,000
+per annum, and of the Slave States only $862,324,000. The value of the
+lands of the Free States was $25.19 per acre, of the Slave States only
+$10.46 per acre; the product of the improved lands of the Free States
+was $26.68 _per acre_ and of the Slave States $11.55, while, _per
+capita_, the result was $131.48 to $70.56.
+
+These facts prove how much greater the crops of the Slave States would
+be, if their farms (including cotton) were cultivated by free labor. It
+is also thus demonstrated how completely the fertile lands of the South
+are exhausted and reduced in value by slave culture. Having thus proved,
+deductively, the ruinous effects of slavery, I will proceed, in my next
+letter, inductively, to exhibit the causes which have produced these
+remarkable results.
+
+                                                         R. J. WALKER.
+
+
+
+
+ÆNONE:
+
+A TALE OF SLAVE LIFE IN ROME.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+The day wore quietly on, like any other day; for the confusion and
+turmoil of the ovation were already a half-forgotten thing of the past,
+and Rome had again subsided into its usual course: in the earlier hours,
+a city of well-filled streets, astir and vocal with active and vigorous
+trade and labor; then--as the noontide sun shed from the brazen sky a
+molten glow, that fell like fire upon the lava pavement, and glanced
+from polished walls until the whole atmosphere seemed like a furnace--a
+city seemingly deserted, except by a few slaves, engaged in removing the
+triumphal arches hung with faded and lifeless flowers, and by a soldier
+here and there in glistening armor, keeping a lonely watch; and
+again--as the sun sank toward the west, and, with the lengthening
+shadows, the intensity of the heat diminished--a city flooded with
+wealth and fashion, pouring in confused streams hither and thither,
+through its broadest avenues and forums--groups of idlers sauntering
+along to watch the inoccupation of others, and with the prospective bath
+as the pretence for the stroll--matrons and maidens of high degree, with
+attendants following them--a rattle of gayly caparisoned chariots, with
+footmen trotting beside the wheels--guards on horseback--detachments of
+prætorian soldiers passing up and down--here the car of a senator of the
+broad purple--there the mounted escort of a Syrian governor--all that
+could speak of magnificence, wealth, and authority, at that hour
+thronged the pavement.
+
+Leaving the Vanno palace, Ænone joined herself to this moving concourse.
+At her side walked one of her bondwomen, and, at a pace or two behind,
+properly attired, and armed only with a short sword, strode the armor
+bearer. Thus attended, she pressed forward along the Appian Way toward
+the outskirts of the city--past broad palaces and villas, with
+encircling gardens and open paved courts--past shrubberies, fish ponds,
+and statue-crowned terraces--past public baths, through whose broad
+doorways the people swarmed by hundreds, and whose steps were thronged
+with waiting slaves; now stopping until the armor bearer, running to the
+front, could make a passage for her through some crowd denser than
+ordinary--then gliding onward with more rapid pace, as the way became
+clearer--and again arresting herself for a moment as the stream of
+people also tarried to watch the approach of the gorgeous chariot and
+richly uniformed guards of the emperor Titus Vespasian. At length,
+turning the corner of a pillar-porticoed temple, which stood back from
+the street, and up the gentle ascent of whose steps a concourse of
+priests and attendants were forcing a garland-decked bullock,
+unconscious of the sacrificial rites which awaited him within, she stood
+beyond the surging of the crowd and in a quiet little street.
+
+It was a narrow avenue, in whose humble architecture brick took the
+place of stone; but by no means mean or filthy, like so many of the
+streets of similar width in the central portion of the city. Stretching
+out toward the open country, and not given up to merchandise or slave
+quarters, its little houses had their gardens and clustering vines about
+them, supplying with the picturesque whatever was wanting in
+magnificence, and evidencing a pleasant medium between wealth and
+poverty. The paved roadway was clean and unbroken; and far down as the
+eye could reach no life could be seen, except a single slave with a
+fruit basket balanced upon his head, and near him a group of children at
+play.
+
+Passing down this street, Ænone came to a spot where one of the great
+aqueducts which supplied the city, crossed the roadway diagonally with a
+single span. At the right hand stood a small brick house, built into the
+nearest arch so snugly that it seemed as though its occupants could
+almost hear the gurgling of the water flowing overhead from the hills of
+Albanus. Like the other houses in its neighborhood, it had a small
+courtyard in front, planted with a shrub or two. This was the home of
+her father, the centurion Porthenus. Stopping here, she was about to
+enter without warning, according to her usual custom, but as she
+advanced, a dwarf, whom she recognized as the same which that morning
+had so eagerly presented himself for notice in the front of her
+husband's captives, sprang forward, grinned his recognition of the armor
+bearer, made another grimace expressive of mingled respect and
+admiration for herself, threw open the door, and ushered her in with an
+outburst of ceremonious pride befitting an imperial reception.
+
+At a back window of the house, from whence the line of aqueduct could be
+seen for some distance leaping houses and streets in its undeviating
+course to the centre of the city, sat the centurion. He was a man of
+medium height, short necked, and thick set, with blunted features and
+grizzled hair and beard. Two of the fingers of his left hand were
+wanting, and a broad scar, the trophy of a severe skirmish among the
+Alemanni, crossed his right cheek and one side of his nose, giving him
+an expression more curious than pleasing. His general appearance was
+after the common type of an old, war-worn soldier, rough and
+unscrupulous by nature, hardened by camp life and dissipation, grown
+cruel by excess of petty authority, overbearing with his inferiors,
+jovial and complaisant with his equals, cringing to his superiors, and
+with an air of discontent overlaying every other expression, as though
+he was continually tortured with the belief that his success in life had
+not equalled his merits. As Ænone entered, he was bending over a shield,
+and earnestly engaged in burnishing its brazen mouldings. At his side
+leaned a short sword, awaiting similar attention, and in a rack beside
+him were a number of weapons of different varieties and sizes, which had
+already submitted to his restorative skill, and now shone like glass.
+
+Hearing her light step, he looked up, arose, flung the shield into a
+corner, and, with a roar, as though ordering a battalion, called out to
+the grinning dwarf, who had followed her in:
+
+"Ho there, ape! A seat for my daughter, the wife of the imperator
+Sergius Vanno!"
+
+The dwarf sprang forward and dragged out a seat for her; having done
+which, he seemed about to yield to his curiosity and remain. But the
+centurion, disapproving of such freedom, made a lunge at him with the
+small sword, before which the dwarf retired with a precipitate leap, and
+joined the bondwoman and armor bearer outside. Then the father, being
+left alone with his daughter, embraced her, and uttered such words of
+welcome as his rough nature suggested.
+
+As regarded his intercourse with her, perhaps the most noticeable traits
+were the mingled reverence and familiarity with which he treated her. It
+seemed as though he was actuated by an ever-pervading consciousness that
+her exalted position demanded the observance of the deepest respect
+toward her; but that this feeling was connected in his mind with an
+unceasing struggle to remember that, after all, she was his own child,
+and as such was not entitled to any undue consideration from him. Upon
+the present occasion, he first timidly touched her cheek with his lips
+and uttered a gentle and almost courtly salutation; but immediately
+recollecting himself, and appearing to become impressed with the belief
+that his unwitting deference was unworthy of the character of a father,
+he proceeded to atone for the mistake by a rough and discomposing
+embrace, and such a familiar and frolicksome greeting as none but a camp
+follower would have felt flattered with. Then, seating himself before
+her, he commenced his conversation in a rude and uncouth tone, and with
+rather a forced affectation of military bluntness; from which, however,
+as his eye dwelt upon the richness of her apparel and his mind began to
+succumb to the charm of her native refinement, he gradually and
+unconsciously subsided, in turn, into his former soft and deferential
+manner.
+
+'And so the imperator Sergius Vanno has returned,' he said, rolling upon
+his tongue, with evident satisfaction, that high-sounding title--once
+the acknowledged appellation of a conqueror, but now claimed as a right
+by the imperial line alone, and no longer elsewhere bestowed except as
+an informal and transitory compliment. 'It was a splendid ovation, and
+well earned by a glorious campaign. There is no one in all the Roman
+armies who could have managed it better.'
+
+Nevertheless, with unconscious inconsistency, he immediately began to
+show wherein the campaign could have been improved, and how many gross
+mistakes were visible in every portion of it--how the force of Mutius
+should have been diverged more in advancing inland--how, in the battle
+along the shore, the three-oared galleys of Agricola should have been
+drawn up to support the attack--the consequence of this omission, if the
+leading cohort had met with a repulse--and the like. All this he marked
+out upon the floor with a piece of coal, taking but little heed that
+Ænone could not follow him; and step by step, in the ardor of criticism,
+he advanced so far that he was soon ready to prove that the campaign had
+been most wofully misconducted, and was only indebted to accident for
+success.
+
+'But it is of little use for me to talk, if I cannot act as well,' he at
+length concluded, rising from the floor. 'And how could I act any part,
+placed as I am? The father of the wife of the imperator Sergius Vanno
+should be the leader of a cohort rather than of a mere century; and be
+otherwise lodged than in this poor place. Then would they listen to
+him.'
+
+He spoke bitterly and enviously, exhibiting in his whole tone as well as
+in his words his besetting weakness. For a while Ænone did not answer.
+It was as far from her duty as from her taste and pleasure to remind
+him, even if she could have done so to his comprehension, that her
+husband had already advanced him as far as was possible or fitting, and
+had otherwise provided for him in various ways as well as could
+reasonably be expected. The views of the centurion were of a far
+different nature. In giving his daughter to the patrician he had meanly
+intended thereby to rise high in life--had anticipated ready promotion
+beyond what his ignorance would have justified--had supposed that he
+would be admitted upon an equal social footing among the friends of
+Sergius, not realizing that his own native roughness and brutishness
+must have forbidden such a connection--had dazzled his eyes too wilfully
+with pictures of the wealth and influence and glory that would fall to
+his lot. As long, therefore, as so many of those gilded imaginings had
+failed in their promise, it seemed as nothing to him that Sergius, in
+the first flush of admiration for the daughter, had removed the father
+from rough provincial to more pleasing and relaxing urban duties, had
+purchased him a house befitting his station, and had lightened his
+condition in various ways.
+
+'But we are gradually doing better,' Ænone said at length, striving to
+cheer him by identifying her fortunes more nearly with his own, 'This is
+a finer place than we had to live in at Ostia. Think how narrow and
+crowded we were then. And now I see that we have a new slave to open for
+us, while at Ostia we had only old Mitus. Indeed, we are very
+comfortable.'
+
+'Ay, ay,' growled the centurion; 'a new slave--a dwarf or idiot, or what
+not--just such a creature as would not bring five sestertia in the
+market; and, therefore, the imperator has cast him to me, like a bare
+bone to a dog. Tell him I thank him for the gift. And in this matter it
+has been with me as always heretofore--either no luck at all, or too
+much. How often have I not passed a campaign without taking a prisoner,
+while they fell in crowds to all around me? And when at last I gained my
+share, when was it ever of any value to me, being hundreds of miles from
+a market? And here it is the same again. For months, no slave at all;
+and then all at once there are two, and I shall be,eaten out of my
+house.'
+
+'Two, father?'
+
+'Listen to me. No sooner did your honored lord send me this dwarf, than
+arrives Tisiphon of the twelfth cohort. He had long owed me a slave; and
+now that a captive, poor and feeble, and likely to die, had fallen into
+his hands, he thought it a fair opportunity to acquit himself toward me.
+But for once Tisiphon has cheated himself. The slave he brought was weak
+and sick, but it was only from want of food and rest. The fellow will
+recover, and I will yet make much of him. Would you see him? Look out of
+the back window there. He will turn out a fine slave yet, and, if this
+dwarf had not come, would be right pleasing to me. But two of them! How
+shall I find bread for both?'
+
+Ænone walked to the window, and leaned out. The courtyard behind was but
+limited in size, containing a few squares of burnt brick arranged for
+pavement around a small plot of grass at the foot of a single plane
+tree. The slave of whom the centurion spoke was seated upon this plot,
+with his back against the tree, and his head bent over, while, with
+vacant mind, he watched the play of a small green lizard. As she
+appeared at the window, he raised his eyes toward her, then dropped them
+again upon the ground. It was hardly, in fact, as much as could be
+called a look--a mere glance, rather, a single tremor of the drooping
+lid, a mute appeal for sympathy, as though there had been an inner
+instinct which, at that instant, had directed him to her, as one who
+could feel pity for his trouble and desolation. But at that glance,
+joined to something strangely peculiar in the captive's figure and
+attitude, a nervous thrill shot through Ænone's heart, causing her to
+hold her breath in unreasoning apprehension; a fear of something which
+she could not explain, a dim consciousness of some forgotten association
+of the past arising to confront her, but which she could not for the
+moment identify. And still she looked out, resisting the impulse of
+dread which bade her move away, fixing a strained gaze upon the captive,
+in a vain struggle to allay, by one moment of calm scrutiny, that
+phantom of her memory which, act as she might, would not be repressed,
+but which each instant seemed to expand into clearer certainty before
+her.
+
+'Do you see him? Does he appear to you a worthy slave?' cried the
+centurion.
+
+'A worthy slave, indeed,' she answered, in a low tone, feeling compelled
+to make some response.
+
+At her voice, the captive again raised his head, and looked into her
+face; not now with a hasty, timid glance, but with the full gaze of one
+who believes he has been spoken to, and waits for a renewal of the
+question. And as she met the inquiring look, Ænone turned away and sank
+back in terror and dismay. She knew it all, now, nor could she longer
+deceive herself by vain pretences or assurances. The instinct which, at
+the first had filled her soul with that unexplained dread, had not been
+false to her. For that glance, as it now rested upon her with, longer
+duration and deeper intensity, too surely completed the suggestion
+which, at the first it had faintly whispered to her, flashing into her
+heart the long-stifled memories of the past, recalling the time when, a
+few years before, she had sat upon the rock at Ostia, and had gazed down
+upon eyes lifted to meet her own with just so beseeching an appeal, and
+telling her too truly that she stood again in the presence of him to
+whom she had then promised her girlish faith, and whom she had so long
+since looked upon as dead to her.
+
+'I will call him in,' said the centurion, 'and you can see him closer.'
+
+'Nay, nay, father; let him remain where he is,' she exclaimed, in
+uncontrollable dread of recognition.
+
+'Ha! art not afraid, girl?' demanded the old man. 'He can do no hurt,
+even were he stronger; and now that he is weak, a child could lead him
+with a string. Come hither, sirrah!'
+
+The captive arose, smoothed down his tunic, and, obediently entering the
+house, awaited commands; while Ænone, with as quiet movement as
+possible, shrunk, into the most distant corner of the room. What if he
+should recognize her, and should call upon her by name, not knowing her
+changed position, or recollecting his own debasement into slavery? What
+explanation other than the true one could she give to account for his
+audacity, and save him from the chastisement which the offended
+centurion would prepare to bestow upon him? This was but a momentary
+fear, however, since she felt that the increasing glow of evening, added
+to her own alteration by dress, and the certainty that he would not
+expect to meet her thus, found a sure protection against recognition, as
+long as she took care not to risk betrayal by her voice or manner. And,
+perhaps, after all--and her heart lightened somewhat at the thought--it
+might be that her reason had too freely yielded to an insane fancy, and
+allowed her to be deceived by a chance resemblance.
+
+'How is he called?' she inquired, disguising her voice as thoroughly as
+she could. The instant she had spoken she would have retracted her
+words, if possible, from the mere fear lest her father, in his response,
+might mention her name. But it luckily chanced that the centurion did
+not do so.
+
+'How is he called? Nay, that thing I had not thought to ask as yet. Your
+name, slave?'
+
+'Cleotos.'
+
+At the word, the blood again flew back to her heart. There could now no
+longer be a doubt. How often had she repeated that name endearingly, in
+those early days of her first romance in life!
+
+'Cleotos,' said the centurion. 'It is a brave name. There was once a
+leader of a full phalanx with that name, and he did well to the empire.
+It is, therefore, scarcely a name for a slave to bear. But we will talk
+some other time about that. It is of thine appearance now, that we will
+speak. Is he not, after all, a pleasing youth? Did Tisiphon so surely
+deceive me as he intended, when he gave the man to me? See! there is but
+little brawn and muscle to him, I grant; and therefore he will not make
+a good gladiator or even spearman; but he has a comely shape, which will
+fit him well for a page or palace usher. And, therefore, I will sell him
+for such. He should bring a good price, indeed, when the marks of his
+toil and sickness have gone off from him, and he has been fattened into
+better condition. But two of them!' continued the centurion, suddenly
+recurring to his former source of grief. 'How can I fatten him when
+there are two of them? How find bread for both? And yet he is not so
+very thin, now. I will light a lamp, daughter, for it has grown quite
+dark, and you shall come nearer and examine him.'
+
+'Nay! nay!' exclaimed Ænone, in hurried resistance of this new danger.
+'Not now. I am no judge of the merits of captives, and it is getting
+late. I know that my lord will be expecting me, and perchance will be
+vexed if I delay.'
+
+'Be it so, then,' responded the other. 'And as it is dark, it is not
+befitting that you should go without escort. Take, therefore--'
+
+'I have the armor bearer for my escort, father.'
+
+'It is something, but not enough,' said the centurion. 'Enough for
+safety, but not for dignity. Remember that, while on the one hand you
+are the wife of the imperator Sergius Vanno, you are also a daughter of
+the house of Porthenus--a family which was powerful in the far-off days
+of the republic, long before the house of Vanno had begun to take root,'
+he continued, in a tone of pride. For then, as now, poverty consoled
+itself for its privations by dreams--whether well or ill founded, it
+mattered but little--of grandeurs which had once existed; and it was one
+of the weaknesses of the centurion to affect superiority of blood, and
+try to believe that therein he enjoyed compensations beyond anything
+that wealth could bestow.
+
+'Of the house of Porthenus,' he repeated, 'and should therefore be
+suitably attended. So let this new slave follow behind. And take, also,
+the dwarf. He is not of soldierly appearance, but for all that he will
+count as one more.'
+
+Fearful of offending her father by a refusal, or of encountering
+additional risks of recognition by a more prolonged conversation at the
+doorway, now brightened by the light of the newly risen moon, Ænone
+hastily assented, and started upon her homeward route. Clinging closely
+to the side of her bondwoman, not daring to look back for a parting
+adieu to her father, who stood at the door leaning upon his sword, and
+grimly smiling with delight at fancying his child at last attended as
+became a scion of the house of Porthenus--not regarding the
+half-smothered oaths and exclamations of contempt with which the armor
+bearer behind her surveyed his two new companions upon guard--she
+pressed rapidly on, with the sole desire of reaching her house and
+secluding herself from further danger of recognition.
+
+The moon rose higher, silvering the city with charms of new beauty,
+gleaming upon the surface of the swift-rolling Tiber, giving fresh
+radiance to the marble palaces and temples, adding effect to whatever
+was already beautiful, diminishing the deformity of whatever was
+unlovely, even imparting a pleasant aspect of cheerfulness to the lower
+quarters of the city, where lay congregated poverty and dishonor and
+crime. The Appian Way no longer swarmed with the crowd that had trodden
+it an hour ago. The priests had completed the sacrifice and left the
+temple, the bathers had departed, the slaves no longer lingered upon the
+porticos, and the riders in gay chariots no more were to be seen. A
+calmer and more quiet occupancy of the street had ensued. Here and there
+a soldier paced to and fro, looking up at the moon and down again, at
+the glistening river, and thought, perhaps, upon other night watches in
+Gallia, when just such a moon had gleamed upon the silver Rhone. Here
+and there two lovers, loth to abandon such a pleasant light and warmth,
+strolled slowly along, and, as lovers have ever done, bade the moon
+witness their vows. But not the river or the moonlight did Ænone now
+linger to look upon, nor lovers' vows did she think about, as she glided
+hastily toward her own home. The peacefulness and quiet of nature found
+no response in her heart. Her only emotion was one of dread lest each
+ray of light might shine too brightly upon her--lest even her walk might
+betray her--lest every sound might be an unguarded recognition from the
+poor, unconscious captive behind her.
+
+At length she reached her home, passed up the broad flight of steps in
+front, and stood panting within the doorway. A momentary pause ere she
+entered, and then, unable to continue the control which she had so far
+maintained over herself, she turned and cast one hasty, curious glance
+below. The two new slaves of the centurion stood side by side in the
+street, gazing up at the palace walls, the dwarf with a grin of almost
+idiotic glee, the other with a grave air of quiet contemplation. But
+what was that sudden look of startled recognition that suddenly flashed
+across the features of the latter? Why did his face turn so ghastly pale
+in the moonlight, and his limbs seem to fail him, so that he grasped his
+companion's arm for support? Ænone shrank terrified into the obscurity
+of the doorway.
+
+But in an instant she recovered her self-possession. It must be that he
+had been faint or giddy, nothing more. It could not have been
+recognition that had startled him from his earnest contemplation, for he
+had not been looking toward her, but, with his body half turned away,
+had been gazing up at the highest story of the palace.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+And now, having avoided the immediate peril of recognition, Ænone turned
+into the palace. Even there, however, her disordered fancy pictured
+dangers still encompassing her. How, after all, could she feel sure that
+she had not been known? During that clear moonlight passage along the
+Appian Way, what revelations might not have been made by a chance look
+or gesture! At the very first she had almost stumbled upon the truth
+merely through the magic of one upward glance of the eye of the wearied
+slave; why, then, might she not have unconsciously revealed herself to
+him by even a wave of the hand or a turn of the instep, or by some other
+apparently trivial and unimportant motion? And if so, at what instant
+might he not forget his fallen condition, and disregard not only his
+safety but her reputation, by pressing into the palace and claiming the
+right of speech with her? Rasher deeds were not seldom done under the
+promptings of desperation. Trembling beneath the sway of such
+imaginings, each footfall that resounded in the hall seemed like the
+light and buoyant step of him who had trodden with her the sands of
+Ostia--each figure that passed by bore, for the instant, the outline of
+his form--even at the open window the well-known face seemed to peer in
+at every corner and watch her.
+
+This paroxysm of terror gradually passed away, but was succeeded by
+other fancies equally productive of inquietude. What if the captive,
+having recognized her, had whispered his story to the companions with
+whom he had walked! He would surely not do so if he still loved her; but
+what if his love had ceased, and he should be meanly desirous of
+increasing his own importance by telling how he, a slave, had been the
+chosen lover of the proudly allied lady before him? Nay, he would never
+act thus, for it would be a baseness foreign to his nature; and yet have
+not men of the most lofty sense of honor often fallen from their
+original nobility, and revelled in self-degradation? And it somehow
+seemed as though, at the last, the dwarf had looked up at her with a
+strangely knowing leer. And was it merely her imagination that made her
+think there was a certain sly approach to undue familiarity in the
+usually deferential deportment of the armor bearer?
+
+With the next morning, however, came more composed reflections. Though
+the forebodings of the evening had naturally tinged her dreams with
+similar vague imaginings of coming trouble, yet, upon the whole, her
+sleep had brought rest, and the bright sunlight streaming in at the
+window drove away the phantoms which, during the previous gloom, had so
+confusedly disported themselves in her bewildered brain. She could now
+indulge in a more cheering view of her situation; and she felt that
+there was nothing in what had transpired of sufficient importance, when
+coolly weighed and passed upon, to make her anxious or afraid.
+
+In a sick and travel-worn slave she had recognized one to whom, in her
+younger days, she had plighted her faith, and who had, in turn, given
+his faith to her. He was now a captive, and she had become one of the
+nobles of the empire. But his evil lot had not been of her procuring,
+being merely one of those ill fortunes which are cast broadly over the
+earth, and whose descent upon any one person more than upon another can
+be attributed to destiny alone. Nor, in accepting her high position, had
+she been guilty of breach of faith, for she had long awaited the return
+of her lover, and he had not come. And through all those years, as she
+had grown into more mature womanhood, she had vaguely felt that those
+stolen interviews had been but the unreasoning suggestions of girlish
+romance, too carelessly indifferent to the exigencies of poverty and
+diverse nationality; and that, if he had ever returned to claim her,
+mutual explanation and forgetfulness could have been their only proper
+course. There was, therefore, nothing for which she could reproach
+herself, or for which he could justly blame her, were he to recognize
+her as the wife of another man.
+
+But there was little chance, indeed, that such a recognition could take
+place. Certainly, now that, apart from her troubled and excited fears of
+the previous day, she more deliberately weighed the chances, she felt
+assured that in her rapid passage through the evening gloom, nothing
+could have betrayed her. And it was not probable that even in open
+daylight and in face-to-face encounter with him he would be likely to
+know her. She had recognized him almost at a glance, for not only was
+his dress composed of the same poor and scant material which had served
+him years before, but even in form and feature he seemed unchanged, his
+slight frame having gained no expansion as his manhood had progressed,
+while his face retained in every line the same soft and almost girlish
+expression. But with herself all things had altered. It was not merely
+that the poorly clad maiden who, with naked feet, well-tanned hands, and
+tangled and loosely hanging curls, had been wont to wander carelessly by
+the shore of a distant bay, had become a richly adorned matron of the
+imperial centre. Beyond all that, there was a greater change, which,
+though in its gradual progress almost inappreciable to one who had
+watched her day by day, could not but be remarked after a lapse of many
+years. The darker hair, the softer complexion, the suave smile into
+which the merry laugh of girlhood had little by little subsided, the
+more composed mien, replete with matronly dignity, the refinement of air
+and attitude insensibly resulting from long continued instinctive
+imitation, the superior development of figure--all these, as they were
+improvements in her former self, were also just so many effective
+disguises upon which she could safely rely, unless she were to provoke
+inordinate scrutiny by some unguarded action or expression. But all this
+she would earnestly guard against. She would even put no trust in the
+natural immunity of which her reason assured her, but would make
+everything doubly safe by totally refraining from any encounter with one
+whose recognition of her would be so painful.
+
+This she could do, and yet not fail in any friendly duty which the
+remembrance of their former love might enjoin upon her. Unseen in her
+retirement, she could watch over and protect him, now that in his sorrow
+and degradation he so greatly needed a friend. She could ameliorate his
+lot by numberless kindnesses, which he would enjoy none the less for
+being unable to detect their source. She would cunningly influence her
+father to treat him with tenderness and consideration. And when the
+proper time arrived, and she could take her measures without suspicion,
+she would herself purchase his freedom, and send him back rejoicing to
+his native land. And when all this was done, and he should again have
+reached his home, perhaps she might then write to him one line to tell
+him who it was that had befriended him, and that she had done so in
+memory of olden times, and that now, when she was so far removed from
+him, he should give her one kind thought, utter a prayer to the gods in
+her behalf, and then forget her forever.
+
+So much for her security and her friendly duty. As for the feelings of
+her heart, she was at rest. Strong in self-confidence, she had no fear
+that her mind could be influenced to stray from its proper path. It is
+true that during the previous evening, in the first tumult of troubled
+thought, she had felt a vague presentiment that a day of temptation
+might be before her, not as the result of any deliberate choice upon her
+part, but rather as a cruel destiny to be forced upon her. But now the
+current of her mind moved more clearly and unobstructedly; and she felt
+that however chance might control the worldly prosperity of each one,
+the will and strength to shape his own destiny, for good or evil, are
+still left to him unimpaired. Away, then, with all thoughts of the past.
+In her heart there could be but one affection, and to her life there
+could be but the one course of duty, and in that she would steadfastly
+walk.
+
+Strengthened, therefore, with the well-assured belief that the impulsive
+affection of her youth had become gradually tempered by lapse of years
+into a chaste and sisterly friendship, and that the pleasant memories
+which clustered about her heart and made her look back half regretfully
+upon those former days would be cherished only as the mere innocent
+relics of a girlish romance, she felt no fear that her faith could be
+led to depart from its lawful allegiance. But aside from all this, there
+lurked within her breast an uneasy sense of being the holder of a great
+secret which, in the end, would surely crush her, unless she could share
+its burden with another. In this desire for confidence, at least, there
+could be no harm; and her mind rapidly ran over the array of her few
+friends. For the first time in her life, perhaps, her isolation from
+close and unfettered companionship with others was forced upon her
+attention, and her soul grew faint as she thought upon her dependence
+upon herself alone for comfort or advice. To whom, indeed, could she
+venture to pour out her heart? Not to her father, who, with unreasoning
+ignorance and little charity, would coarsely form base conclusions about
+her, and would most likely endeavor to solve the problem by cruelty to
+the unfortunate slave who had so unwittingly originated it. Not to any
+of those matrons of whom her rank made her the associate; and who, after
+gaining her confidence, would either betray it to others, or else,
+wrongly misconstruing her, and fancying her to be influenced by scruples
+which they might not have felt, would scarcely fail to ridicule and cast
+disdain upon all the most tender emotions of her heart. And above all
+others, not to her husband, to whom, if she dared, she would have wished
+to reveal everything, but who had, she feared, at the bottom of his
+soul, a jealous and suspicious nature, which would be sure to take
+alarm, and cause him to look upon her story, not as a generous
+confidence bestowed in the hope of comfort and assistance, but rather
+as a cunningly devised cover for some unconfessed scheme of wrong
+against him.
+
+Burdened by these reflections, Ænone slowly passed from her room into
+the antechamber. Lifting her eyes, she there saw her husband standing at
+the window, and, at the distance of a pace or two from him, a female
+figure. It was that of a girl of about eighteen years, small, light, and
+graceful. Her costume, though not in form such as belonged to the
+freeborn women of Rome, was yet far superior in richness of material to
+that usually worn by persons of low degree, and was fashioned with a
+taste which could not fail to assist the display of her graceful
+perfection of form, indicated in part by the rounded lines of the
+uncovered neck and arms. As Ænone entered the room, Sergius advanced,
+and, taking her by the hand, said:
+
+'Yonder is a new slave for you--the present about which I yesterday
+spoke. I trust it will prove that during my absence I was not unmindful
+of you. It was at Samos that I obtained her. There, you may remember, we
+tarried, after taking the town and burning part of the fleet.'
+
+Samos! Where had Ænone heard that place mentioned? Searching into the
+recesses of her memory, it at last flashed upon her. Was it not from
+Samos that he--Cleotos--had come? And was it fate that forced the
+recollection of him ever upon her? She turned pale, but by a violent
+effort succeeded in maintaining her self-possession and looking up with
+a smile of apparent interest upon her husband as he spoke.
+
+'She had nearly fallen the prey of one of the common soldiers,' he
+continued; 'but I, with a few pieces of gold, rescued her from him,
+picturing to myself the gratification you would feel at being so fitly
+attended. And that you might the better appreciate the gift, I have
+retained her till to-day before showing her to you, in order that you
+might first see her recovered from the toil of travel and in all her
+recovered beauty. A rare beauty, indeed, but of a kind so different from
+thine that your own will be heightened by the contrast rather than
+diminished. How many sestertia I have been offered for her, how many
+high officers of my forces have desired to obtain her for service upon
+their own wives, I cannot now remember. But I have refused and resisted
+all, for I would that you should be known throughout all Rome by the
+beauty of those in waiting about you, even as you are now known by your
+own beauty. Pray, accept of her, therefore, as your attendant and
+companion, for it would sorely disappoint me were you to reject such a
+pleasing gift.'
+
+'Let it be as my lord says,' responded Ænone. 'And if I fail in due
+utterance of my thanks, impute it not to want of appreciation of the
+gift, but rather to inability of proper expression.'
+
+It was with real gratitude that Ænone spoke; for, at the instant, a
+thought of cheering import flashed upon her, swelling her heart with
+joy, and causing her to welcome the captive girl as a gift from the
+gods. Here, perhaps, as though in direct answer to her prayer for
+sympathy, might be the one for whom her heart had been longing; coming
+to her, not laden with any of that haughty pride and ill-befitting
+knowledge with which the Roman world about her reeked, but rather as she
+herself had once come--with all her unstained provincial innocence of
+thought yet nestling in her shrinking soul--one, like herself, an exile
+from a lowly state, and with a heart filled with those simple memories
+which must not be too carelessly exposed--so seldom do they gather from
+without anything but cruel ridicule or cold lack of comprehension--one
+whom she could educate into an easy intimacy with her own impulses and
+yearnings, and thus, forgetting all social differences, draw closer and
+nearer to her as a friend and confidant.
+
+As she thus reflected, she felt the soft pressure of lips upon her left
+hand, which hung idly at her side, and, looking down, she saw that the
+captive girl had knelt before her, and, while lightly grasping her
+fingers, was gazing up into her face with a pleading glance. Ænone's
+first impulse was to respond with eager warmth to that humble appeal for
+protection and friendship; and had it not been for the morbid fear she
+felt lest her husband, who stood looking on, might chide such
+familiarity, or at the least might cast ridicule upon the feeling which
+prompted it, she would have raised the captive girl and folded her in
+her arms. As it was, the impulse was too spontaneous and sudden to be
+entirely resisted, and she held forth her other hand to lift the
+kneeling figure, when a strange, intuitive perception of something which
+she could scarcely explain, caused her to withhold further action.
+
+Something, she knew not what, in the attitude and expression of the
+captive before her, which sent her warm blood flowing back with a
+chilled current--something which told her that her hopes of the moment
+had been smitten with decay as suddenly as they had been raised, and
+that, instead of a friend, she had perhaps found an enemy. The full dark
+eye yet gazed up at her with the same apparent moistened appeal for
+friendly sympathy; but to Ænone's alarmed instinct it now seemed as
+though behind that glance there was an inner depth of cold, calculating
+scrutiny. Still, almost unheeding the gentle gesture of the hand
+extended to raise her, the Greek knelt upon the floor, and, with an
+appearance of mingled timorousness and humility, laid her lips upon the
+gathered fingers; but now there appeared to be no natural warmth or glow
+in the pressure or real savor of lowliness in the attitude, but rather a
+forced and studied obsequiousness. For the instant Ænone paused, as
+though uncertain how to act. Then, fearing to betray her doubts, and
+hoping that her startled instinct might have deceived her, she bent
+forward once more and raised the captive to her feet.
+
+It had all been the work of an instant; passing so quickly that the
+pause between the impulse and its completion could hardly have been
+noticed. But in that instant a change had swept over the expressions of
+both; and as they now stood opposite and gazed more intently upon each
+other, the change still progressed. The face of the young Roman matron,
+but a moment before so glowing with sympathy and radiant with a
+new-discovered hope of future happiness, now seemed to shrink behind a
+veil of despairing dread--the fear chasing away the joy as the shadow
+flits along the wall and banishes the sunlight; while, though every
+feature of the Greek still seemed clothed with trembling humility, yet,
+from some latent depths of her nature, a gleam of something strangely
+wild and forbidding began to play upon the surface, and invest the
+moistened eye and quivering lip with an undefinable repulsive harshness.
+
+'Your name?' said Ænone, rousing herself with exertion, as though from a
+painful dream.
+
+'Leta, my lady,' was the reply, uttered in a tone of despairing sadness,
+and with eyes again cast upon the floor.
+
+'Leta,' repeated Ænone, touched in spite of her forebodings by that
+guise of an unhappiness which might, after all, be real. 'It is a
+fair-sounding name, and I shall call you always by it. Poor girl! you
+are an exile from your native land, and I--I cannot call myself a Roman.
+We must be friends--must we not?'
+
+She spoke rather in the tone of one hoping against evil auguries than as
+one indulging in any confident anticipations of the future. The Greek
+did not answer, but again slowly raised her eyes. At first, as before,
+with the same studied expression of pleading humility; but, as she
+glanced forward, and saw Sergius standing behind, and gazing at her with
+an admiration which he did not attempt to dissemble, a strange glow of
+triumph and ambitious hope seemed to light up her features. And when,
+after a hasty glance of almost responsive meaning toward Sergius, she
+again looked into the face of the other, it was no longer with an
+assumption of humble entreaty, but rather with an expression of wild,
+searching intensity. Before it the milder gaze of Ænone faltered, until
+it seemed as though the two had suffered a relative interchange of
+position: the patrician mistress standing with troubled features, and
+with vague apprehension and trembling in her heart, and as though
+timorously asking for the friendship which she had meant to bestow; and
+the captive, calmly, and with a look of ill-suppressed triumph, reading
+the other's soul as though to learn how she could most readily wield
+supremacy over her.
+
+
+
+
+'OUR DOMESTIC RELATIONS; OR, HOW TO TREAT THE REBEL STATES.'
+
+
+In the _Atlantic Monthly_ for October, 1863, is an article with the
+above caption, in which the author, we think, develops ideas and
+theories totally at variance with the spirit of our Government, and
+which, if acted upon, and followed to their legitimate results, tend to
+subvert that self-government which is the privilege and pride of the
+American citizen. The result of his reflection is, that the States
+which, more conveniently than accurately, are termed the rebel States,
+have practically become Territories, and as such are to be governed by
+Congress. Is this proposition true? Let us examine--not hastily, not
+rashly, not vindictively, or in a party spirit--but wisely,
+magnanimously, and lovingly, and see if there be not a truer conclusion
+and one more in accordance with the spirit of our republican
+Constitution.
+
+When the rebel _States_ (?) passed their respective ordinances of
+secession, what results flowed from the action? The political doctrine
+that the union of the States is not a mere confederation of separate
+States, but a consolidation, within the limits of the Constitution, of
+the different States, otherwise independent, into _one nation_, is now
+too well established to remain a subject of debate. We are not,
+therefore, members of a confederacy, but are a unit--one. It follows, as
+a matter of course, that no State can withdraw or hide itself from the
+control of the National Government. The ordinances of secession passed
+by the rebel States did not, therefore, affect the Federal authority.
+The broad and just ground taken by President Lincoln in his Inaugural
+Address was, that the rebel States were still _in_ the Union; and it is,
+we apprehend, the only tenable ground of right upon which we can carry
+on the war in which we are now engaged. The Constitution of the United
+States requires (art. ii. sec. 3) that the President shall 'take care
+that the laws be faithfully executed.' When the present head of the
+executive came into office, in March, 1861, he found several of the
+States, having already seceded on paper, seeking to perfect their
+treason by 'the armed hand.' Lighthouses had been destroyed, or their
+beacon fires--the sentinels of the sea--shrouded in darkness, custom
+houses were given into rebel hands, the revenue cutters were
+surrendered, and deed followed deed in this dark drama of treason, until
+it was consummated by firing upon the unarmed Star of the West, while
+she was performing her errand of mercy, to relieve the hunger and
+reënforce the exhausted strength of the heroic little garrison of Fort
+Sumter. The plain and immediate duty of the President was, therefore, to
+call out the strength of the nation to assist him in 'taking care that
+the laws be faithfully executed.' And this brings us to the proposition
+that _the Government is not engaged in a war of conquest with another
+nation, but in enforcing the laws in what is already a part of the
+Union_.
+
+The Constitution (art. ii. sec. 2) makes the President the
+'commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the United States, and of
+the militia of the several States when called into the actual service of
+the United States.' In the President, and in him alone, supremely, is
+vested the authority which is to conduct the course of war. Congress has
+the war-making power, but war once brought into being (if we may be
+allowed the expression), the manner in which it shall be conducted rests
+with the executive. It is, of course, to be conducted in accordance with
+the laws of nations and of civilized warfare. The first step necessary
+to enable the President to enforce the laws in the seceded States is to
+put down the military power by which their execution is resisted. That
+is now being done. By the 'necessity of war,' then, the executive is
+authorized to take such measures as may be necessary to put down the
+rebellion; and though no power is given him to appoint Governors over
+the States in ordinary times, it _is_ given him, indirectly, but as
+surely as if expressly granted, to be used in times of actual war, by
+the clause of the Constitution which we have just quoted, making him
+commander-in-chief of the national military force. Whenever the States,
+or any of them, cease to be debatable ground--that is, when the military
+force of the rebellion is put down, the military necessity ceases, and
+with it the authority of the President to appoint military governors.
+Nor is there danger of encroaching upon the liberties of the nation;
+for, as the power attaches to the President, not in his capacity as the
+civil head of the nation, but as the military commander-in-chief, it
+ceases the moment military opposition is overcome. The fear of the
+_Atlantic_ author would seem to be ill grounded, for we cannot believe
+that any military force could be raised by a despotic executive who
+might endeavor to place himself in absolute power, and we think there is
+little danger that the Government may 'crystallize into a military
+despotism.' Would supplies be granted by Congress; or, if granted, would
+not the people of a country which has sprung to arms only to defend a
+_free_ government, be strong enough to resist any single military
+despot? Let the history of the present rebellion, in which a population
+of only eight millions, and that in the least defensible States of the
+Union, has resisted for nearly three years the combined power of all the
+other States, with a population of more than twenty millions, answer the
+question. The _Atlantic_ writer admits the propriety of appointing
+military governors in the cases of Mexico and California before the
+latter was admitted as a State, but denies it in the cases of the rebel
+States, because they are States, and therefore (as he says) within the
+civil jurisdiction. But at the period to which we refer, Congress had
+jurisdiction over both California and Mexico by the express provision of
+the Constitution (art. iv. sec. 3), 'the Congress shall have power to
+dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations concerning the
+territory or other property belonging to the United States.' If, then,
+the power of the President be admitted in the two cases referred to, it
+is even stronger in the cases of the rebel States, where no such power
+is given to Congress. And further it would seem that the act of
+admission to the Union would operate rather to take the Territory from
+under the jurisdiction of Congress, and give the right of government
+into the hands of the PEOPLE of the new State, even if their State
+officers did seek to betray them into treason. Our author asserts that
+'there is no argument for military governors that is not equally strong
+for Congressional governments; but we suspect his mistake here, as, in
+fact, his whole theory comes from his neglect to note that this
+appointing power attaches to the President, not as the civil head of the
+nation, but as military commander-in-chief under the necessity of war.
+
+To sum up the argument on this point, it stands thus: Neither Congress
+nor the President has power under the civil head to institute
+governments of their own in the rebel States: that power must arise, if
+at all, under the head of military necessity, and must attach to the
+commander-in-chief, viz., the President, and ceases the moment that
+necessity ceases. In the authority quoted from Chancellor Kent by the
+author of the _Atlantic_, we find nothing to shake our argument; for,
+though the power be, as the learned Chancellor says, 'to be exercised
+subordinate to the legislative powers of Congress,' still it is an
+executive power, and must be exercised by--must emanate from--the
+President. The same learned authority, from whose lucid and fascinating
+pages we enjoyed the first glimmerings of the 'gladsome light of
+jurisprudence,' says (vol. i. p. 264): 'The command and application of
+the public force, to execute the law, maintain peace, and resist foreign
+invasion, are powers so exclusively of an executive nature, and require
+the exercise of powers so characteristical of this department, that they
+have always been _exclusively_ appropriated to it in every
+well-organized government upon earth.' Taking this provision of the
+Constitution, so interpreted by Chancellor Kent, as vesting the power
+_exclusively_ in the executive, it only remains to be considered how far
+it is a necessity of war.
+
+In all the rebel States there is a population, more or less dense, to be
+protected and governed; but what can a civil authority accomplish when
+the States are overrun by a military force which has so long defied the
+power of the army? Advancing as our armies conquer, and fleeing as they
+are overcome by the rebel hordes, it could accomplish nothing but its
+own ludicrous history and the fettering of the military power, which so
+eminently requires one secret and independent will. How little a
+military force so fettered by civil authorities could accomplish can
+hardly be fully realized but by those who, like the author, have
+summered and wintered upon the 'dark and bloody ground' of the
+rebellion. But, it will be asked, how are the rebel States to be
+governed when the military power of the rebellion is crushed, and the
+authority of the executive ceases with the necessity of war? No express
+power is given by the Constitution to Congress to govern any other
+territory than the District of Columbia, the dockyards, lighthouses, and
+lands ceded to the United States for similar purposes, and the territory
+not included in the several States, but belonging to the United States.
+Under these three heads is included all the territory over which
+Congress can claim jurisdiction by direct grant; and, by the
+Constitution (Amendments, art. x.), 'the powers not delegated to the
+United States, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the
+States respectively or to THE PEOPLE.' Unless, therefore, the rebel
+States have lapsed into Territories, Congress can have no authority over
+them, except the general powers which it may exercise over all the
+States of the Union. The question then arises, and it seems to be purely
+a legal one--have the rebel States lapsed into Territories?
+
+We have already seen that the doctrine maintained by our Government is,
+that the rebel States have not, by their ordinances of secession,
+separated themselves from the Union, but that they are still _in_ the
+Union. The ordinances of secession are, like any other unconstitutional
+law, even supposing them to have been the will of the people (of which
+we will speak hereafter), to be set aside by a competent tribunal, if
+brought to the test at all. Their paper treason, then (to commit a
+solecism), amounting only to so much waste of paper and ink, did the
+overt act of firing upon the flag of the United States operate more
+effectually to destroy the State identity? If they are incapable of
+separating themselves from the nation, and if, as is clearly the case,
+there is no power vested in the General Government to expel them from
+the Union, from what source does the power or act arise which destroys
+their identity? The rebel States are either _in_ the Union or _out_ of
+it. We cannot claim that they are in the Union for the purpose of
+enforcing submission, and then, when that object is accomplished, turn
+round and say they are out of it, and must be governed as Territories.
+
+But it is a fixed fact, and history will so record it, that the voice of
+the _people_ in the rebel States never concurred in the ordinances of
+secession. In the few cases where they were submitted to the popular
+vote, force was used to awe that vote into acquiescence; while in most
+cases they never were submitted to the _form_ of such a vote; and why?
+Because the leaders in treason dared not trust the voice of the people:
+they knew too well that it would thunder a rebuke in their ears. They
+were merely the act of the _individuals_ who were chosen as members of
+the several Legislatures, and who, in betrayal of their trust, sought to
+commit the States which they misrepresented to treason. In any one of
+the States which we have solecistically termed rebel States, we venture
+to assert that, if fairly and fully taken, the vote of the people at any
+time during the last five years, and now, would be, by a large majority,
+in favor of the Union. Wherever our armies have obtained a permanent
+footing, the people have, almost unanimously, given their expression of
+attachment to the old flag. Shall, then, the treason of those
+individuals who, for the time being, held the places of power in the
+rebel States, be construed to the prejudice of a whole people, who had
+no part nor lot in the crime, in face of the often declared law that a
+State cannot commit treason? If we turn to the fact that many, if not
+most of the citizens of the rebel States, have done treasonable acts
+under compulsion of those who were the leaders in the rebellion, we are
+met, at the very threshold, by no less an authority than Sir William
+Blackstone, who says (Bl. Commentaries, book iv. p. 21): 'Another
+species of compulsion or necessity is what our law calls _duress per
+minias_, or threats and menaces which induce fear of death or other
+bodily harm, and which take away, for that reason, the guilt of many
+crimes and misdemeanors, at least before the human tribunal. _Therefore,
+in time of war or rebellion, a man may be justified in doing many
+treasonable acts by compulsion of the enemy or REBELS, which would admit
+of no excuse in the time of peace._' The fact that such violent
+compulsion was and still is used to overawe the Union sentiment of the
+South is patent. It has been and still is the cry, coming up on every
+breeze from that bloodstained land, that the leaders of the rebellion
+seek to crush, by whatever means, those who are
+
+'Faithful among the faithless found.'
+
+But, supposing for the moment that the majority of the citizens of the
+rebel States are, of their own free will, participators in the
+rebellion; where is the grant of power to Congress to establish a
+government in any of the rebel States? No clause of the Constitution
+gives it; and by the express terms of that instrument, 'all powers not
+granted by it to the United States, nor prohibited to the States, are
+reserved to the States respectively or to THE PEOPLE.' But, while no
+such power is granted by the Constitution to the Federal Government, it
+is, we think, strictly forbidden by that clause of the instrument which
+declares that 'the United States shall guarantee to every State in this
+Union a republican form of government.' Would this injunction be
+complied with if Congress were to establish, directly, a government of
+its own over the rebel States? Would it not rather be a transgression of
+the provision? The essential nature of a republican government is that
+it is elective; but a Congressional government would be directly the
+reverse; for it takes the power from the hands of the people and places
+it in the hands of the national council. Mark the form of the
+expression, too, that the republican form of government is to be
+guaranteed, not merely by Congress or the executive, but by the _United
+States_; as if to pledge the whole power of the nation, of whatever
+kind, to protect this priceless blessing, through all coming time, to
+the use and benediction of all ages. Notice, too, to whom the guarantee
+runs--not to the territory now composing the State, but to the State its
+very self--_ei ipsi_; as if the Constitution could not contemplate such
+a thing as a State being struck out of existence, under whatever phrase,
+whether of 'State forfeiture,' 'State suicide,' or 'State abdication,'
+even if treason were attempted by those in power. The Constitution still
+terms it _a State_. Is not the present precisely the event, or rather
+one of the events, which it contemplates and provides for? The doctrine
+of 'State Rights,' whether as contemplated and maintained by Calhoun in
+the days of Nullification, or as declared by Jefferson Davis and his
+compeers in treason, we abhor utterly, whenever and wherever it may lift
+its serpent head, and whether supported by Southern men with Southern
+principles, or by Northern men with no principles. But a true and
+indisputable doctrine of State Rights there is, which ought to be as
+jealously maintained and guarded as the doctrine of National
+Sovereignty. The _Atlantic_ author asserts that, because the State
+offices in the rebel States have been vacated, therefore Congress has
+the authority to govern them, and intimates that all powers not reserved
+to the respective States belong to Congress, _because there is no other
+to wield them_. This is not true. Every power possessed of the Federal
+Government must be actually granted. It must attach to that Government,
+not because it belongs to no other, but because it is granted by the
+Constitution.
+
+Our author quotes Mr. Phillimore as saying 'a state, like an individual,
+may die, by its submission and the donation of itself to another
+country.' Very true; but the word _state_ must, in that sense, be
+equivalent to _nation_; and our author admits that a State cannot
+perform the first act necessary to be done in so giving itself away,
+viz., withdrawing itself from the Union. If, therefore, it cannot
+withdraw itself from the authority of the Federal Government, very
+clearly it cannot donate itself to the self-styled Confederate
+Government. If a thief sell or give his ill-gotten possession to
+another, it in no way affects the right of the owner. He cannot give
+away that which he does not own; and so of a State. Another error into
+which the _Atlantic_ author has fallen, is that, in assigning the three
+sources of Congressional power, 'ample and hospitable,' he enumerates as
+one of them 'the necessity of the case;' but, as we have already seen,
+Congress possesses no powers but those expressly granted by the
+Constitution. If Congress may assert its authority in this instance,
+from the necessity of the case, and be itself the judge of that
+necessity, when no authority is given by the instrument, which expressly
+declares that all powers not granted by it are reserved, where are we to
+find a limit, and why may not that body assert itself in any number of
+instances, until, at length, the rights of the States are wholly
+absorbed by the overmastering power of the Federal Government? There is
+but _one_ rightful source of authority to Congress, and that is the
+Constitution, which itself so declares, and which is the supreme law of
+the land.
+
+But the true course to be pursued is, we think, to allow the rebel
+States (as indeed we cannot help doing) to be governed by the military
+power until such time as a civil government can be maintained, and then
+for the whole Government of the United States, legislative, judicial,
+and executive, to stand by, as the constitutionally appointed guardian,
+_and permit_ THE PEOPLE _to elect their own State officers_. Whether the
+conventions of the people are called by law of Congress or by
+proclamation of the President, would seem to be immaterial, though the
+latter seems the least cumbersome method. Thus the rebel States would
+pass from rebel forms to constitutional ones, in a legal and formal
+manner. Sooner or later this must be done, even if, for a time,
+provisional governments are instituted; for no Congressional government
+can be an elective government, and hence not a constitutional one,
+because the elective principle is necessary to a republican form of
+government. But if, under the clause of the Constitution which enjoins
+upon the United States to guarantee a republican form of government to
+each State, conventions of the people be called to elect their own
+officers, they are at once put in possession of their constitutional
+rights. And how can a State be _re_admitted to a Union which it has
+never left?
+
+The writer has no pet theory to maintain, but is, like the writer in the
+_Atlantic_, 'in search of truth;' and the views here expressed are the
+result, not merely of closet reflection, but of observation and
+experience in the seceded States, while 'marching under the flag and
+keeping step to the music of the Union.' If only, through this baptism
+of blood, the nation, freed at last from the blighting curse of slavery,
+and purified into a better life, shall lift her radiant forehead from
+the dust, and, crowned with the diadem of freedom, go on her glorious
+way rejoicing, the writer will count his past sufferings and shattered
+health only as the small dust in the balance compared with the priceless
+blessings of peace, freedom, and national unity, which they may have
+contributed, however slightly, to purchase. Only to have contributed,
+however little, something for the peace--something for the
+glory--something for the permanence, beautiful and bright--of those
+institutions which are for America the pride of the past and the hope of
+the future, will be a joy through life and a consolation in death.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUND BUILDER.
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+All over Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and other Western States--but
+chiefly over these--are the monumental remains of an ancient race, long
+anterior to the present race of Indians, concerning whom we have no
+other record than that which is afforded by their mounds, earthworks,
+fortifications, temples, and dwelling places. Even these cannot at first
+be distinguished and identified the one from the other; and it takes a
+person skilled in such lore to determine the character and uses of the
+various mounds and groups of mounds, which he meets with at all points,
+and in all directions, as he traverses the wilderness.
+
+I have lived a long time in the woods and prairies, following the
+occupation of a hunter, but with ulterior antiquarian and
+natural-history objects and purposes. From the time when I first heard
+of the mounds, which was in the year 1836, when I entertained, in my
+chambers in New York, an old frontiersman from Chicago--a fine, brave
+fellow, whose whole life was a romance of the highest and noblest
+kind--I resolved that as soon as fortune should favor me with leisure
+and opportunity, I would make a first-hand investigation of these
+curious antiquities, and try if I could render an intelligent exposition
+of their meaning. Twenty years passed away, and I was no nearer to the
+accomplishment of my purpose than I was in that notable year 1836, when
+the apocalypse of the West and its mystic mound seals were first
+revealed to me. At last, about four years ago, all things being
+favorable, I struck my tents in the big city--the wonderful Arabian
+Nights city of New York!-and, taking a sorrowful leave of my friends and
+literary associates, I set off for the region round about the Black
+River in Wisconsin. Here, among the bluffs and forests, within hailing
+distance of a prairie of some hundred thousand acres, I bought a
+well-cultivated farm of two hundred and eighty acres, bounded on the
+south by a deep, romantic ravine, at the bottom of which ran a
+delightful stream of water, full of trout, always cool and delicious to
+drink, and never known to be dry even in the fiercest summer droughts. A
+large log cabin, with a chimney opening in the kitchen, capable of
+conveying the smoke and flames of half a cord of wood burning at once on
+the hearthstones, and having other commodious conveniences, was my
+headquarters, and I intended it to be my permanent home. But thereby
+hangs a tale--which, though interesting enough, and full of romantic and
+startling episodes, I will not here and now relate, as being somewhat
+extraneous to the subject matter before us.
+
+I had no sooner made all the dispositions necessary to the good
+husbanding of the farm, than I hired a half breed, well known in those
+parts, and subsequently a Winnebago Indian, to whose wigwam the half
+breed introduced me at my request. And with these two, the one a
+veritable savage, and the other very nearly related to him, I set off
+with a wagon, a yoke of oxen, a large tent, and abundance of provisions,
+on a journey of mound discoveries.
+
+I have only space here to say that we traversed the whole of the north
+and west of the State of Wisconsin, and through the chief parts of
+Minnesota and Iowa; and that subsequently, about, eighteen months
+afterward, we visited the region of the Four Lakes, of which Madison is
+the centre, where there are hundreds of mounds, arranged in nearly every
+form and of nearly every animal device, which we had found in our
+previous travels.
+
+I made drawings of all the remarkable groups which I met with; and,
+without going into particulars, I may give you some idea of their
+likelihood in the following summary: Mounds arranged in circles of three
+circles, with a large earthwork in the inner one; the outer circle
+containing sixty mounds, the second thirty, the first fifteen. I
+examined the earthwork, and found in it, about four feet below the
+surface, remains of charcoal and charred bones, burnt earth, and
+considerable quantities of mica. It had evidently been an altar or
+sacrificial mound--and I afterward, upon examination, found many
+such--but they were always enclosed by other mounds; and these (the
+outer mounds) contained nothing but earth, although there was this
+remarkable peculiarity about them, that the earth of which they were
+composed was altogether of a different nature from the surrounding
+earth, and must have been brought to that spot, as the old Druids
+brought the enormous blocks of stone which composed their temples and
+altars at Stonehenge, from an unknown distance.
+
+Other mounds were arranged in squares, triangles, and parallelograms.
+Others, in a series of successive squares, about three feet apart,
+having an opening to the east and west, and terminating in a square of
+about fourteen feet in the centre, where a truncated mound is sure to be
+erected.
+
+Others, formed a good deal like a Minié rifle ball, but with a more
+pointed apex, running on both sides of the earth effigy of a monstrous
+bear for upward of forty rods.
+
+Others, shaped like an eagle with outstretched wings, having walls of
+earthwork two feet high, of oblong shape, and enclosed on all sides
+except at the east and west, where there are entrances of about four
+feet in width.
+
+Others, composed of hundreds of tons of earth, shaped like a tortoise,
+with truncated mounds all around it.
+
+Others, fashioned like men, and Titans at that, some lying prone upon
+the prairie, others in the act of walking. The limbs clearly defined,
+the body vast and well moulded, like a huge colossus. One near Baraboo,
+Sauk County, Wisconsin, discovered by Mr. William H. Canfield, and
+reported to the Philosophical Society by Mr. Lapham, of Milwaukee, was
+visited also by us. It is two hundred and fourteen feet in length; the
+head thirty feet long, the body one hundred feet, and the legs
+eighty-four. The head lies toward the south, and the motion (for he is
+represented in the act of walking) is westward. All the lines of this
+most singular effigy are curved gracefully, much care having very
+clearly been bestowed upon its construction. The head is ornamented with
+two projections or horns, giving a comical expression to the whole
+figure.
+
+Near the old military road, about seven miles east of the Blue Mounds,
+in Dare County, Wisconsin, we found another man effigy. It lies in an
+east and west direction, the head toward the west, and the arms and legs
+extended. It is one hundred and twenty-five feet long, one hundred and
+forty feet from the extremity of one arm to that of the other. The body
+is thirty feet in breadth, and is most carefully moulded and rounded;
+the head twenty-five feet; the elevation above the surface of the
+prairie nearly six feet.
+
+On the north side of the Wisconsin River, about four miles west of the
+village of Muscoda, we heard of and found another human effigy. Its
+peculiarity was that it had two heads, and they reclined with a certain
+grace over the shoulders. The arms were not in proportion, nor fully
+represented. Length of body fifty feet, legs forty feet, arms one
+hundred and thirty feet; lying north and south, the head southward.
+
+Others, a kind of hybrids, half man half beast or bird.
+
+Others, representing birds with outstretched wings, like the forked-tail
+hawk or swallow.
+
+Others, eagles without heads.
+
+Others, coiled snakes, or outstretched snakes.
+
+Others, elk or deer.
+
+Clusters of mounds star shaped, seven in number, with the sun-shaped
+mound in the centre.
+
+Others, representing mathematical symbols.
+
+On the banks of the Black River, near the Ox Bow, are the remains of an
+elevated road, about three feet high and seven feet wide, extending for
+miles, intersected near the river by the great Indian war path. The
+settlers call it the Railroad, and it has all the appearance of a work
+of this nature, and is strongly and carefully built--a fine remain of
+the old mound builders' time.
+
+Long lines of mounds, extending for scores and probably hundreds of
+miles, nearly all of the same shape, varying in their distance from each
+other from one to four miles.
+
+Circular mounds of a base of two hundred feet, and a height of twenty
+feet.
+
+Others, two hundred yards long, from ten to twenty feet wide, and from
+two to three feet high--these last, also, having an open space through
+them, as if intended for an entrance gate.
+
+Others, in the form of rabbits, badgers, bears, and birds; others, of
+unknown monstrous animals.
+
+We examined in all thirty-nine mounds; and in one, at the very base, on
+the floor of the natural earth upon which the mound was built (the soil
+of the mound being, as I said, always of a different character to the
+surrounding soil) we discovered and carried away with us the perfect
+skeleton of a man, with a few arrow heads made of flint, and a tobacco
+pipe, made also of stone, with a very small and narrow bowl, having a
+device on it like some of the hieroglyphic monsters of Egypt or old
+India.
+
+In twelve we found skeletons, male and female, of the present race of
+Indians, with their bows and arrows, or, as was the case in four
+instances, their rifles and knives and tobacco pipes; some of these last
+elaborately carved in red stone. In Iowa we dug into a large mound, and
+discovered fragments of an ancient pottery, with the colors burned into
+the material, and various bones and skulls, arrow heads, and a flint
+knife, and saw.
+
+We saw the painted rocks, also, on the Mississippi shores, near Prairie
+du Chien--said to be of an immemorial age--and the questions, Who was
+this old mound builder--whence did he come--when did he vanish from this
+continent? have haunted me ever since. That he was the primitive man of
+this planet, I think there is good reason to believe. Go where we will,
+to what portion soever of the earth, we shall find these mound evidences
+of his existence. In Asia, Europe, Africa, and all along the backbone of
+the American continent, he has established his record. Yet no one knows
+anything about him: all tradition even of him and of his works is lost.
+When Watkinson started from the middle of Asia to visit the newly
+acquired country of Russia--the beautiful, fruitful, invaluable country
+of the Amoor--he was confronted at the very outset by a cluster of seven
+of these very mounds, and his book, from that time forth, extending over
+thousands of miles, is full of descriptions of these unknown earthworks.
+I have no doubt they mark the progressive geographical movements of a
+race of men who came from Asia. From Behring's Strait to the Gulf they
+can easily be traced.
+
+But I have said enough, and will stop here.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUND BUILDER.
+
+Who art thou? old Mound Builder!
+    Where dost thou come from?
+    Womb of what country,
+    Womb of what woman
+      Gave birth to thee?
+      Who was thy sire?
+      Who thy sire's sire?
+    And who were his forbears?
+    Cam'st thou from Asia?
+Where the race swarms like fireflies,
+    Where many races mark.
+As with colored belts, its tropics!
+    What pigment stained thy skin?
+  Was it a red, or wert thou
+    Olive-dyed, or brassy?
+  Handsome thou couldst hardly have been,
+    With those high cheek-bones,
+  That mighty jaw, and its grim chops,
+That long skull, so broad at the back parts,
+    That low, retreating forehead!
+      Doubtless thine eyes were dark,
+  Like fire-moons set in their sockets;
+      Doubtless thine hair was black,
+  Coarse, matted, long, and electric;
+  Thy skeleton that of a giant!
+    Well fleshed, well lashed with muscles,
+    As with an armor of iron;
+And doubtless thou wert a brave fellow,
+    On the old earth, in thy time.
+
+    I think I know thee, old Mole!
+Earth delver, mound builder, mine worker!
+  I think I have met thee before,
+  In times long since, and forgotten;
+Many thousands of years, it may be,
+Or ever old Noah, the bargeman,
+Or he, the mighty Deucalion,
+  Wroth with the world as he found it,
+  Uprose in a passion of storm
+  And smote with his fist the sluices,
+    The water sluices of Cloudland--
+  Locked in the infinite azure--
+    Drowning the plains and mountains,
+    The shaggy beasts and hybrids,
+ The nameless birds--and the reptiles,
+Monstrous in bulk and feature,
+Which alone were thy grim contemporaries.
+ Here, in the State of Wisconsin,
+ In newly discovered America,
+ I, curious to know what secrets
+ Were hid in the mounds of thy building,
+   Have gone down into their chambers,
+   Into their innermost grave-crypts,
+   Unurning dry bones and skulls,
+   Fragments of thy mortality!
+   Oftentimes near to the surface
+   Of these thy conical earth-runes,
+   --For who shall tell their secret?--
+   Meeting with strange interlopers,
+   Bodies of red Winnebagoes,
+   Each with its bow and its arrows,
+   Each with its knife and its war gear,
+   Its porphyry-carved tobacco pipe,
+   Modern, I know by the fashioning.
+       Often, I asked of them,
+   As they lay there so silently,
+     So stiff and stark in their bones,
+  What right they had in these old places,
+Sacred to dead men of a race they knew not?
+        And oh! the white laughters,
+    The wicked malice of the white laughters
+        Which they laughed at me,
+    With their ghastly teeth, in answer!
+   Was never mockery half so dismal!
+   As if it were none of my business.
+Nor was it; save that I liked grimly to plague them,
+   To taunt them with their barbarity,
+That they could not so much as dig their own graves,
+   But must needs go break those of the dead race,
+Their far superiors, and masters in craft and lore!
+   And bury themselves there, just out of sight,
+    Where the vulture's beak could peck them,
+     Were he so obscenely minded,
+ And the wolf could scrape them up with his foot.
+
+     Curious for consideration
+    All this with its dumb recordings!
+     Very suggestive also,
+    The meeting of him, the first-born,
+     Who lived before the rainbow
+    Burst from the womb of the suncloud,
+  In the Bible days of the Deluge--
+     The meeting very suggestive
+  Of him, with the red Winnebago,
+   Such immemorial ages,
+     Cartooned with mighty empires,
+     Lying outstretched between them.
+   He, the forerunner of cities
+
+   --His mounds their type and rudiment--
+  And he, the fag-end of creation,
+  Meaningless sculpture of journeymen,
+   Doomed to the curse of extinction.
+     Curious, also, that I,
+  An islander from far-off Britain
+         Should meet them,
+     Or, the rude scrolls of them.
+    Both together in these wilds,
+  Round about the region of the Black River,
+     Cheek by jowl in a grave.
+
+   Who was the builder of the grave?
+    A primitive man, no doubt,
+    Of the stone era, it may be,
+   For of stone are his implements.
+  And not of metal-work, nor the device of fire.
+    He may have burrowed for lead
+     And dug out copper ore,
+  Dark-green as with emerald rust, from the mines
+  Long since forsaken, and but newly found
+  By the delvers at Mineral Point.
+  He, or his subsequents, issue of him,
+    I know not; and, soothe to say,
+        Shall never know.
+
+     Neither wilt thou ever know
+   Anything of me, old Mound Builder!
+ Of the race of Americans, nothing,
+     Who now, and ever henceforth,
+   Own, and shall own, this continent!
+     Heirs of the vast wealth of time
+ Since thou from the same land departed;
+ New thinkers, new builders, creators
+   Of life, and the scaffolds of life,
+   For far-off grand generations!
+      This skull which I handle!--
+ How long has the soul left it tenantless?
+ And what did the soul do in its house,
+      When this roof covered it?
+ Many things, many wonderful things!
+   It wrote its primeval history
+ Is earthworks and fortifications,
+   In animal forms and pictures,
+   In symbols of unknown meaning.
+
+  I know from the uncouth hieroglyphs,
+     And the more finished records,
+   That this soul had a religion,
+     Temples, and priests, and altars:
+   I think the life-giver, the sun,
+     Was the god unto whom he sacrificed.
+      I think that the moon and stars
+     Were the lesser gods of his worship;
+     And that the old serpent of Eden
+     Came in for a share of devotion.
+
+     I find many forms of this reptile,
+       Scattered along the prairies,
+      Coiled on the banks of the rivers,
+     In Iowa, and far Minnesota,
+      And here and there, in Wisconsin.
+       Now he is circular,
+     Gnawing his tail, like the Greek symbol,
+      Suggesting infinite meanings
+      Unto the mind of a modern
+     Crammed with the olden mythologies.
+       Now, uncoiled in the sunlight,
+     He stretches himself out at full length
+     In all his undulate longitude.
+    His body is a constellation of mounds,
+           Artfully imitative,
+    From the fatal tail to the more fatal head.
+       Overgrown they are with grass,
+      Short, green grass, thick and velvety,
+          Like well cared-for lawns,
+      With strange, wild flowers glittering,
+       Made up of alien mould
+      Brought hither from distant regions.
+
+    Curiously I have considered them,
+      Many a time in the summer,
+    Lying beside them under the flaming sky,
+      Smoking an old tobacco pipe,
+       Made by one of these moundsmen.
+       Who in his time had smoked it,
+       Perchance over the council fire,
+ Or in the dark woods where he had gone a-hunting;
+   In war time--in peaceful evenings,
+      With his squaw by his side,
+   And his brood of dusky papposins
+    Playing about in the twilight
+     Under the awful star-shadows.
+
+ It seemed that I was very close to him, at such times;
+       And that his thick-ribbed lips,
+   --Gone to dust for unknown centuries--
+       Had met mine inscrutably,
+   By a magic hid in the pipestem,
+   Making me his familiar and hail fellow.
+       Almost I felt his breath,
+      And the muffled sound of his heart-beats;
+          Almost I grasped his hand,
+        And shook the antediluvian,
+      With a shake of grimmest fellowship
+      Trying to cozen him of his grim secret.
+        But sudden the gusty wind came,
+        Laughing away the illusion,
+      And I was alone in the desert.
+
+          If he could only wake up now,
+      And confront me--that ancient salvage!
+      Resurgated, with his faculties
+      All quick about him, and his memories,
+          What an unheard-of powwow
+      Could I report to you, O friends of mine!
+      Who look for some revelation,
+      Some hint of the strange apocalypse,
+        Which the wit of this man, living
+      So near to the prime of the morning,
+      So near to the gates of the azure,
+        The awful gates of the Unseen--
+        Whence all that is seen proceeded--
+      Hath wrought in this new-found country!
+      I wonder if he would remember
+    Anything about the Land of the Immortals.
+          Something he would surely find
+        In the deeps of his consciousness
+        To wake up a dim reminiscence.
+          Dreamy shadows might haunt him,
+  Shadows of beautiful faces, and of terrible;
+    Large, lustrous eyes, full of celestial meanings,
+      Looking up at him, beseeching him,
+        From unfathomable abysses,
+        With glances which were a language.
+      The finalest secrets and mysteries,
+      Behind every sight, and sound, and color,
+      Behind all motions, and harmonies,
+          Which floated round about him,
+          Archetypes of the phenomenal!
+
+Or, it might be, that coming suddenly in his mind
+      Upon some dark veil, as of Isis,
+    He lifts it with a key-thought,
+  Or the sudden memory of an arcane sign,
+      And beholds the gardens of Living Light,
+      The starry platform, palaces, and thrones--
+      The vast colossi, the intelligences
+    Moving to and fro over the flaming causeways
+        Of the kingdoms beyond the gates--
+              The infinite arches
+            And the stately pillars,
+                Upbuilt with sapphire suns
+    And illuminated with emerald and ruby stars,
+       Making cathedrals of immensity
+     For the everlasting worship without words.
+
+All, or some, of the wondrous, impenetrable picture-land:
+                   The crimson seas,
+           Flashing in uncreated light,
+               Crowded with galleons
+    On a mission to ports where dwell the old gods
+   And the mighty intellects of the Immortals.
+           The ceaseless occupations,
+           The language and the lore;
+The arts, and thoughts, the music, and the instruments;
+  The beauty and the divine glory of the faces,
+           And how the Immortals love,
+           Whether they wed like Adamites,
+           Or are too happy to wed,
+           Living in single blessedness!
+           Well, I know it is rubbish,
+           The veriest star-dust of fancy,
+         To think of such a thing as this
+     Being a memorial heirloom of the fore-world,
+            Such rude effigies of men,
+     Such clodbrains, as these poor mound builders!
+
+ Their souls never had any priority in the life of them;
+            No background of eternity
+            Over which they had traversed
+                From eon to eon,
+            Sun-system to sun-system,
+            Planets and stars under them,
+            Planets and stars over them;
+ Now dwelling on immeasurable plains of azure
+               Bigger than space,
+    Dazzling with the super-tropical brightness
+      Of passionate flowers without a name,
+    In all the romance of color and beauty--
+          Now, in the cities celestial,
+          Where they made their acquaintances
+   With other souls, which had never been incarnated,
+          But were getting themselves ready
+            By an intuitive obedience
+      To a well-understood authority,
+              Which had never spoken,
+      To take upon themselves the living form
+        Of some red-browed, fire-eyed Mars-man,
+          Some pale-faced, languishing son
+          Of the Phalic planet Venus,
+        Or wherever else it might be,
+         In what remote star soever
+       Quivering on shadowy battlements.
+       Along the lines of the wilderness,
+             Of worlds beyond worlds,
+         These souls were to try their fortunes.
+
+       Surely, no experience of this sort
+           Ever happened unto them,
+       Although one would like to invest them
+   With the glory of it, for the sake of the soul.
+         But they were, to speak truth of them,
+           A sort of journeyman work,
+           Not a Phidian statuary,
+            But a first cast of man,
+              A rude draft of him;
+      Huge gulfs, as of dismal Tartarus,
+  Separating him from the high-born Caucasian.
+             He, a mere Mongolian,
+       As good, perhaps, in his faculties,
+             As any Jap. or Chinaman--
+           But not of the full-orbed brain,
+           Star-blown, and harmonious
+       With all sweet voices as of flutes in him,
+           And viols, bassoons, and organs;
+Capable of the depths and circumferences of thought,
+           Of sphynxine entertainments,
+         And the dramas of life and death.
+
+       A plain fellow, and a practical,
+           With picture in him and symbol,
+       And thus not altogether clay-made,
+       But touched with the fire of the rainbow,
+         And the finger of the first light,
+       Waiting for the second and the third light,
+           Expectant through the ages,
+             And disappointed;
+             Never receiving more,
+       But going down, at last, a dark man,
+       And a lonely, through the dark galleries
+         Of death, and behind the curtain
+               Where all is light.
+
+       I like to think of him, and see his works:
+          I like to read him in his mounds,
+  And think I can make out a good deal of his history.
+               He was a half-dumb man,
+               Very sorrowful to see,
+         But brave, nevertheless, and bravely
+             Struggling to fling out his thoughts,
+               In a kind of dumb speech;
+        Struggling, indeed, after poetry
+        Dædalian forms, and eloquence;
+        Ambitious of distinguishing himself
+        In the presence of wolves and bisons
+          And all organic creatures;
+            Of making his claim good
+        Against these, his urgent disputants,
+          That he was lord of the planet.
+
+              If he could not write books,
+        He could scrawl the earth with his record:
+              He could make hieroglyphs,
+        Constellations of mounds and animals,
+          Effigies of unnamable things,
+          Monsters, and hybrids unnatural,
+        Bred of grotesque fancies; and man-forms.
+          These last, none of your pigmies
+              A span long in the womb,
+        And six feet, at full growth, out of it--
+            But bigger in chest and paunch,
+      In the girth of his muscular shackle-bones,
+            Round his colossal shoulders,
+        Round his Memnonian countenance,
+          Over the dome of his skull-crypts--
+          From crown to foot of his body--
+          Than grimmest of old Welsh giants,
+          Grimmest of Araby ogres!
+
+        Many a time talking with gray hunters,
+        Who leaned on their rifles against a tree,
+            And made the bright landscape
+  And the golden morning fuller of gold and brightness
+        By the contrast of their furrowed faces,
+              Their shaggy eyebrows,
+        And the gay humor laughing in their eyes,
+  Their unkempt locks, their powder horns, and buskins,
+    And the wild attire, in general, of their persons--
+          Many a time have I heard them
+            Tell of these man-effigies
+        Lying prone on the floors of the prairie.
+        And, in my whim for correspondence,
+    And perpetual seeking after identities,
+I have likened them to the stone sculptures, in cathedrals,
+        Cut by pious hands out of black marble,
+    Memorial resemblances of holy abbots,
+    Of Christian knights, founders of religious houses,
+            Of good lords of fair manors,
+          Who left largess to these houses,
+          Beneficed the arched wine-cellars
+          With yearly butts of canary,
+              Or, during their lifetime,
+   Beautified the west front with stately windows
+     Of colored glass, emblazoned with Scripture stories,
+The sunlight in shadowy reflections painting the figures
+       With blue and gold and crimson
+     Upon the cold slabs of the pavement.
+
+        These effigies, stiff, formal,
+       Rudely fashioned, and of poor art,
+       All of them lying, black and stark,
+Like a corpse-pageantry visioned in some monk's dream,
+        Lying thus, in the transepts,
+     On the cold, gray floor of the cathedral.
+
+        A curious conceit, truly!
+     But the prairie is also consecrated,
+        And quite as sacred I think it
+       As Rome's most holy of holies.
+     It blossoms and runs over with religion.
+       These meek and beautiful flowers!
+What sweet thoughts and divine prayers are in them!
+       These song birds! what anthems of praise
+       Gush out of their ecstatic throats!
+          I pray you, also, tell me,
+        What floors, sacred to what dead,
+  Can compare with the elaborate mosaic work
+  Of this wide, vast, outstretching floor of grass?
+        As good a place, I take it,
+  For the mound builder to make his man-effigies
+          Out of the mould in,
+    As the cathedral is, for its artists
+  To make man-effigies out of the black marble!
+        And the thought, too, is the same!
+The thought of the primeval savage of the stone era,
+        Roaming about in these wilds,
+        Before the beautiful Christ
+        Made the soul more beautiful,
+    Revealed the terror of its divine forces,
+      Announced its immortality,
+    And was nailed on a tree for His goodness!
+  While the monk, therefore, lay yet in the pagan brain,
+      And' Time had not so much as thought
+      Of sowing the seed for his coming--
+While his glorious cathedral, which, as we now know it,
+    Is an epic poem built in immortal stone,
+    Had no archetype except in the dreams of God,
+      Dim hints of it, lying like hopeless runes
+      In the forest trees and arches,
+Its ornamentations in the snow drifts, and the summer leaves and flowers--
+  No doubt, the mound-builder's man, put in effigy on the prairie,
+        Had been a benefactor, in his way and time;
+          Or, a great warrior; or learned teacher
+        Of things symbolized in certain mound-groups,
+          And which, from their arrangement,
+        Appertain, it would seem, to mysteries,
+          And ghostly communications.
+        They thought to keep green his memory,
+        The worship of him and his good deeds,
+              Unto the end of time,
+              Throughout all generations.
+            The holy men, born of Christ,
+        All Christendom but the development of him,
+            And all the world his debtor;
+        Even God owing him more largely
+          Than He has thought fit to pay back,
+            Taking the immense credit
+              Of nigh two thousand years!
+          These holy men, so born and cultured,
+            Could think of no way wiser,
+              Of no securer method
+        Of preserving the memory of their saints,
+          And of those who did good to them,
+    Than this rude, monumental way of the savage.
+              So singular is man,
+            So old-fashioned his thinkings,
+    So wonderful and similar his sympathies!
+        Everywhere the same, with a difference;
+              Cast in the same moulds,
+      Of the same animal wants, and common mind,
+          Of the same passions and vices,
+          Hating, loving, killing, lying--
+            A vast electrical chain
+    Running through tradition, and auroral history,
+              Up through the twilights,
+                And blazing noons,
+        Through vanishing and returning twilights,
+              Through azure nights of stars--
+            Epochs of civilization--
+            Unto the calmer glory,
+            Unto the settled days,
+              Unto the noble men--
+            _Nunc formosissimus annus!_
+
+  Thus do I, flinging curiously the webs of fancy
+        Athwart the time-gulfs, and the ages,
+Reconcile, after a kind, the primitive savage of America
+        With the wonderful genealogies--
+            Upsprung from the vital sap
+          Of the great life-tree, Igdrasil!
+            Thick and populous nations
+          Heavily bending its branches,
+  Each in its autumn time of one or two thousand years,
+      Like ripe fruits, fully developed and perfected,
+          From the germ whence they proceeded;
+        Nourished by strong saps of vitality,
+      By the red, rich blood of matured centuries,
+        By passionate Semitic sunlights;
+  Beautiful as the golden apples of the Hesperides!
+      Radiating, also, a divine beauty,
+        The flower-blossom and the aroma,
+      The final music, of a ripe humanity,
+        Whereof each particular nation
+            Was in its way and turn
+          The form and the expression,
+
+          Grand autumns were some of them!
+        Grand and beautiful, like that of Greece,
+    Whose glorious consummation always reminds me
+Of moving statues, music, and richest painting and architecture:
+      Her landscapes shimmering in golden fire-mists,
+      Which hang over the wondrously colored woods,
+          In a dreamy haze of splendor;
+        Revealing arched avenues, and tiny glades,
+          Cool, quiet spots, and dim recesses,
+          Green swards, and floral fairy lands,
+              Sweeping to the hilltops;
+    Illuminating the rivers in their gladsome course,
+    And the yellow shadows of the rolling marshes,
+  And the cattle of the farmer as they stand knee-deep
+            Switching their tails by the shore;
+          Lighting up the singing faces,
+          The sweet, laughing, singing faces,
+            Of the merry, playful brooks,
+          Now running away over shallows,
+            Now into gurgling eddies;
+              Now under fallen trees,
+          Past beaver dams long deserted;
+              Now under shady banks,
+            Lost in the tangled wood-growths;
+          Quivering now with, their laughter,
+            Out in the open meadow,
+            Flowing, singing and laughing,
+            Over the weeds and rushes,
+            Flowing and singing forever!
+
+        Plastic and beautiful, and running over
+    With Schiller's 'play impulse,' was the genius of Greece,
+  Of which her institutions and civility were the embodiment.
+        Other autumn times of the nations
+              Were calm and peaceful,
+      Symbolized above, as fruit on the branches
+            Of the life-tree, Igdrasil!
+              And when their time came,
+              They dropped down silently,
+    Like apples from their boughs on the autumn grass;
+        Silently dropped down, on moonlight plains,
+    In the presence of the great company of the stars,
+          And the flaming constellations,
+    Which evermore keep solemn watch over their graves.
+          Others were blown off suddenly,
+And prematurely--all the elements enraged against them;
+          And others, like the Dead Sea fruit,
+        Were rotten at the heart before their prime!
+
+    The old mound builder stands at the base of the tree,
+        At the base of the wonderful tree Igdrasil,
+        And the mighty branches thereof,
+        Which hang over his head in flame-shadows,
+        Germinated, and blossomed with nations,
+        In other lands, in another hemisphere
+        Far away, over the measureless brine,
+      From the mother earth where he was planted,
+            Where he grew and flourished,
+            And solved the riddle of life,
+                  And tried death,
+            And the riddle beyond death.
+
+        He thought this passionate America,
+        With its vast results of physical life,
+        Its beautiful and sublime portraitures,
+      Its far-sweeping prairies, rolling in grassy waves
+        Like the green billows of an inland sea--
+              Its blue-robed mountains
+        Piercing the bluer heavens with their peaks--
+            Its rivers, lakes, and forests--
+        A roomy, and grand-enough earth to inhabit,
+        Without thought of anything beyond it.
+
+          And yet he is related to all
+          That was, and is, and shall be!
+        That idea which was clothed in his flesh
+        Is fleshed in I know not how many
+          Infinite forms and varieties,
+          In every part of the earth,
+        In this day of my generation.
+        But the flesh is a little different,
+    And here and there the organism a nobler one,
+      And the idea bigger, broader, deeper,
+    Of a more divine quality and diapason.
+  He is included in us, as the lesser in the greater;
+    All our enactments are repetitions of his;
+              Enlarged and adorned;
+          And we pass through all his phases,
+        Some time or other, in our beginnings--
+    Through his, and an infinity of larger ones--
+    And we have the same inevitable endings.
+
+
+
+
+A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE:
+
+ITS POSSIBILITY, SCIENTIFIC NECESSITY, AND APPROPRIATE CHARACTERISTICS
+
+
+The idea of the possibility and desirableness of a universal language,
+scientifically constituted; a common form of speech for all the nations
+of mankind; for the remedy of the confusion and the great evil of Babel,
+is not wholly new. The celebrated Leibnitz entertained it. It was, we
+believe, glanced at among the schemes of Lord Monboddo. Bishop Wilkins
+devoted years of labor to the accomplishment of the task, and thought he
+had accomplished it. He published the results of his labors in heavy
+volumes, which have remained, as useless lumber, on the shelves of the
+antiquarian, or of those who are curious in rare books. A young
+gentleman of this city, of a rare genius, by the name of Fairbank, who
+died by a tragical fate a few years since, labored assiduously to the
+same end. A society of learned men has recently been organized in Spain,
+with their headquarters at Barcelona, devoted to the same work. Numerous
+other attempts have probably been made. In all these attempts, projects,
+and labors, the design has never transcended the purpose of _Invention_.
+The effort has been simply to _contrive_ a new form of speech, and to
+persuade mankind to accept it;--a task herculean and hopeless in its
+magnitude and impracticability; but looking still in the direction of
+the supply of one of the greatest needs of human improvement. The
+existence of no less than two or three thousand different languages and
+idioms on the surface of the planet, in this age of railroad and
+steamship communication, presents, obviously, one of the most serious
+obstacles to that unification of humanity which so many concurrent
+indications tend, on the other hand, to prognosticate.
+
+Another and different outlook toward a unity of speech for the race
+comes up from a growing popular impression that all existing languages
+must be ultimately and somewhat rapidly smelted into one by the mere
+heat and attrition of our intense modern international intercourse. Each
+nationality is beginning to put forth its pretensions as the proper and
+probable matrix of the new agglomerate, or philological pudding-stone,
+which is vaguely expected to result. The English urge the commercial
+supremacy of their tongue; the French the colloquial and courtly
+character of theirs; the Germans the inherent energy and philosophical
+adaptation of the German; the Spanish the wide territorial distribution
+and the pompous euphony of that idiom; and so of the other
+nationalities.
+
+Both invention, which is the genius of adaptation, and the blending
+influence of mere intercourse, may have their appropriate place as
+auxiliaries, in the reconstruction of human speech, in accordance with
+the exigencies of the new era which is dawning on the world; but there
+is another and far more basic and important element, which may, and
+perhaps we may say must, appear upon the stage, and enter into the
+solution. This is the element of positive Scientific _Discovery_ in the
+lingual domain. It may be found that every elementary sound of the human
+voice is _inherently laden_ by _nature herself_ with a primitive
+significance; that the small aggregate of these meanings is precisely
+that handful of the Primitive Categories of all _Thought_ and all
+_Being_ which the Philosophers, from Aristotle up to Kant, have so
+industriously and painfully sought for. The germ of this idea was
+incipiently and crudely struggling in the mind of the late
+distinguished philologist, Dr. Charles Kreitser, formerly professor of
+languages in the University of Virginia, and author of numerous valuable
+articles in Appletons' 'Cyclopædia;' the most learned man, doubtless,
+that unfortunate Hungary has contributed to our American body of savans.
+This element of discovery may, in the end, take the lead, and immensely
+preponderate in importance over the other two factors already mentioned
+as participating in the solution of a question of a planetary language.
+The idea certainly has no intrinsic improbability, that the normal
+language of mankind should be matter of discovery as the normal music of
+the race has been already. There was an instinctual and spontaneous
+development of music in advance of the time when science acted
+reflectively upon the elements and reconstituted it in accordance with
+the musical laws so discovered. Why may we not, why ought we not even to
+expect, analogically, that the same thing will occur for speech?
+
+Setting aside, however, for the present occasion, the profounder inquiry
+into the inherent significance of sounds, and into all that flows
+logically from that novel and recondite investigation, we propose at
+present to treat in a more superficial way the subject indicated in the
+title of this article--A Universal Language; its Possibility, Scientific
+Necessity, and Appropriate Characteristics.
+
+The expansion of the scope of science is at this day such that the
+demand for discriminating technicalities exceeds absolutely the capacity
+of all existing language for condensed and appropriate combinations and
+derivations. Hence speech must soon fail to serve the new developments
+of thought, unless the process of word-building can be itself
+proportionately improved; unless, in other words, a new and
+scientifically constructed Language can be devised adequate to all the
+wants of science. It would seem that there should occur, in the range of
+possibilities, the existence of the _Plan_ in _Nature_ of a _New_ and
+_Universal Language_, copious, flexible, and expressive beyond measure;
+competent to meet the highest demands of definition and classification;
+and containing within itself a natural, compact, infinitely varied, and
+inexhaustible terminology for each of the Sciences, as ordained by fixed
+laws preëxistent in the nature of things.
+
+This language should not then be an arbitrary contrivance, but should be
+elaborated from the fundamental laws of speech, existing in the
+constitution of the universe and of man, and logically traced to this
+special application. This knowledge of the underlying laws of speech
+should determine the mode of the combination of _Elementary Sounds_ into
+Syllables and Words, and of Words into Sentences naturally expressive of
+given conceptions or ideas. Such a language would rest on discovery, in
+that precise sense in which discovery differs from invention, and would
+have in itself infinite capacities and powers of expression, and again
+of suggesting thought; and might perhaps come to be recognized as the
+most stupendous discovery to which the human intellect is capable of
+attaining. 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
+and the Word was God.' The Word, or the _Logos_, is the underlying or
+hidden _Wisdom_ of which _speech_ is the external utterance or
+expression. Who can say how profoundly and intimately the underlying and
+hitherto undiscovered Laws of Speech may be consociated with the basic
+Principles _of all truth_ embedded in the Wisdom-Nature of God himself?
+The old Massonites had a faith, derived from certain mystical utterances
+of the Greek Philosophers, that whosoever should discover the right name
+for anything, would have absolute power over that thing. The Wisdom of
+Plato and the deeper Wisdom of Christ meet and are married to each
+other in the conception of John when he makes the startling assertion
+that the Logos, the Logic, the Law, the Word, is synonymous with God
+himself.
+
+The possibilities of the existence of such a language, divinely and
+providentially prepared in the constitution of things, and awaiting
+discovery, begins to be perceived, if the conception of the existence of
+an absolutely universal analogy be permitted fairly to take possession
+of the mind. Such an infinite scheme of analogy, rendering the same
+principles alike applicable in all spheres, must itself, in turn, rest
+upon a Divine Unity of Plan reigning throughout the Universe, the
+execution of which Plan is the act or the continuity of the acts of
+Creation. The Religious Intuition of the Race has persistently insisted
+upon the existence of this Unity, to the conception of which the
+scientific world is only now approximatingly and laboriously ascending.
+
+If there be such Analogy in Nature furnishing an echo and an image in
+every department of Being of all that exists in every other department
+of Being, certainly that Analogy must be _most distinct_ and _clearly
+discoverable as between the Elements, or the lowest and simplest
+Constituents of Being in each Sphere_. The lowest and simplest elements
+of Language are Oral Sounds, which in written Languages are represented
+by Letters, and constitute the Alphabets of those Languages. The
+Alphabets of Sound must be clearly distinguished from the mere
+Letter-Alphabets by which the Sounds are variously represented. The
+Sound-Alphabets (the Scales of Phonetic Elements) of any two Languages
+differ only in the fact that one of the Languages may include a few
+Sounds which are not heard in the other, or may omit a few which are.
+
+The Mouth, the Larynx (a cartilaginous box at the top of the windpipe),
+and the Nose--the compound organ of speech--constitute an instrument,
+capable, like the accordeon, for instance, of a certain number of
+distinct touches and consequent vocal effects, which produce the sounds
+heard in all existing Languages. The total of the possible sounds so
+produced or capable of production may be called the Crude or Unwinnowed
+Alphabet of Nature, or the Natural Alphabet of Human Language
+generically or universally considered. Thus, for instance, the sound
+represented in English and the Southern European Languages generally, by
+the letter _m_, is made by the contact of the two lips, while at the
+same time the sounding breath so interrupted is projected upon the
+_sounding board_ of the head _through the nose_, whence _resounding_, it
+is discharged outwardly, this process giving to the sound produced that
+peculiar effect called _nasal_ or _nose-sound_; and precisely this sound
+can be produced by the voice in no other way. This sound is,
+nevertheless, heard in nearly all Languages, although there are a few
+imperfect savage dialects which are destitute of it. The production of
+this sound, as above described, will be obvious to the reader if he will
+pronounce the word _my_, and will attend to the position of the lips
+when he begins to utter the word. Let him attempt to say _my_, without
+closing the lips, and the impossibility of doing so will be apparent.
+The production of the sound is therefore mechanical and local; and the
+number of sounds to be produced by the organ fixed and limited,
+therefore, by Nature herself. The very limited number of possible sounds
+may be guessed by the fact that of sounds produced by _completely
+closing the two lips_, there are only three, namely, _p_, _b_, _m_, in
+all the Languages of the earth (as in _p_-ie, _b_-y, _m_-y).
+
+It is the same with all the other vocal sounds. They are _necessarily_
+produced at certain fixed localities or Seats of Sound, in the mouth,
+and by a certain fixed modulation or mechanical use of the Organs of
+Speech. At least they are produced in and are confined to certain
+circumscribed regions of the mouth, and so differ in the method of
+their production as to be appropriately distributed into certain Natural
+Classes: as Vowels and Consonants; Labials (Lip Sounds); Linguo-dentals
+(Tongue-Teeth Sounds); Gutturals (Back-Mouth or Throat Sounds), etc.,
+etc.
+
+From the whole number of sounds which it is possible to produce--the
+whole Crude Natural Alphabet--one Language of our existing Languages
+selects a certain number less than the whole, and another Language doing
+the same, it happens that while they mainly coincide, they, so to speak,
+shingle over each other at random, and it follows: 1. That the Number of
+Sounds in different Languages is not uniform; 2. That of any two
+Languages compared, one will chance to have several sounds not heard in
+the other; and, 3. The erroneous impression is made upon the casual and
+superficial observer that in the aggregate of all Languages there must
+be an immense number of sounds; whereas, in fact, the total Alphabet of
+Vocal Sounds in nature, like the Gamut of Colors or Musical Tones, is
+quite limited, if we attend only to those which distinctly differ, or
+stand at appropriate and appreciable distances from each other.
+
+Further to illustrate: Assume that there are, capable of being clearly
+discriminated by the human ear, say sixty-four or seventy-two distinct
+Elementary Sounds of the human voice, in all--as many, for example, as
+there are Chemical Elements; some existing Languages select and make use
+of twenty, some of twenty-four, some of thirty, and some of forty of
+these sounds, omitting the rest.
+
+But--and here is a very important point and a real discovery in this
+investigation--it will be found, if closely attended to, that a certain
+selection of one half of this number, say thirty-two or thirty-six of
+these sounds, embraces the whole body of vocal elements _usually
+occurring_ in all the forms of speech on the planet; the remaining half
+consisting of rare, exceptional, and, we may nearly say, useless sounds.
+This statement will again be better understood by analogy with what
+regards the Elements of Chemistry. Just about one half of the known
+elements of matter occur with frequency, and enter into useful and
+ordinary combinations to produce the great mass of known substances. The
+remaining half are unfrequent, obscure, and relatively unimportant; some
+of them never having been seen even by many of our most eminent
+chemists. Even should a few new elements be discovered, it cannot be
+anticipated that any one of them should prove to be of leading
+importance, like oxygen, carbon, or sulphur.
+
+On the other hand, should some future great chemical discovery realize
+the dream of the alchemists, and enable us to transmute iron into gold,
+and indeed every chemical Element into every other chemical Element
+(convertible identity), still the sixty-four (nearly) Chemical Elements
+now known would remain the real Elements of Organic and Inorganic
+Compounds, in a sense just as important as that in which they are now so
+regarded. The now known Elements would still continue to constitute _The
+Crude Natural Alphabet of Matter_, and be correspondential with _The
+Crude Natural Alphabet of Sounds in Language_. The transmutability of
+one element into another indefinitely, would not, in any but a certain
+absolute or transcendental sense, cause the Elements to be regarded as
+one, or as any less number than now. It would be, on the contrary, a
+fact precisely corresponding with the actual and well-known
+transmutability of speech-sounds into each other as occurs in the
+phenomena of Etymology and Comparative Philology. This is so extensive,
+as now understood by Comparative Philologists, that it would be hardly
+difficult to prove that every sound is capable of being transmuted into
+every other sound, either directly or through intermediates; and yet we
+do not in the least tend to cease to regard the several sounds as they
+stand as the real Elements of Speech.
+
+It is this transmutability of Correspondential Elements in another
+sphere of Being, which bases the presumption, or gives to it at least
+countenance from a new quarter, that the metals and other chemical
+Elements may be actually convertible substances by means of processes
+not yet suspected or sufficiently understood. The more careful study of
+the Analogy with the Elements of other spheres, and perhaps specifically
+with the Elements of Language, under the presiding influence of larger
+scientific generalizations and views than those which now prevail in the
+scientific world, may be, and, it would even seem, ought to be the means
+of revealing the law of Elementary Transmutations in the Chemical
+Domain. The expectation of a future discovery of the resolution of the
+existing Elements of Matter, and their convertibility even, is reviving
+in the chemical field, and even so distinguished a chemist and thinker
+as Professor Draper does not hesitate to sustain its probability by the
+weight of his authority and belief. The process by which the
+transmutation of Elements is actually effected in Language, is by _Slow
+and Continued Attrition_. These very words suggest a process but little
+resorted to in chemical experiment, but which probably intervenes in the
+Laboratory of Nature, when she makes the diamond out of a substance,
+simple carbon, the most familiarly known to chemistry, but out of which
+the human chemist is entirely unable by any process known to him to
+produce that precious gem.
+
+Whether this particular hint is of any value or not, one thing is
+certain, that it is in the direction of Universal and Comparative
+Science--the analogical echo of the parts of one Domain of Being with
+the parts of another Domain and of all other Domains of Being; of the
+phenomena of one Science with the phenomena of other Sciences; and
+especially as among the Elements of each--that we must look for the next
+grand advances in Scientific Discovery. The world urgently requires the
+existence of a new class of scientific students who shall concern
+themselves precisely with these questions of the relations and the
+indications of unity between the different Sciences; not to displace,
+but to transcend and to coördinate the labors of that noble Army of
+Scientific Specialists, with which Humanity is now so extensively and so
+happily provided.
+
+
+The _Select_ Lingual Alphabet of Nature, as distinguished from the
+_Crude_ Natural Alphabet above described, is then the expurgated scale
+of sounds, say thirty-two; the sounds of usual occurrence in polished
+languages; one half of the whole number; the residuum after rejecting an
+equal number of obscure, unimportant, or barbarous sounds, of possible
+production and of real occurrence in some of the cruder Languages, and
+as crude elements even in the more refined Languages now extant. The two
+sounds of _th_ in English, as in _th_igh and _th_y (the _theta_ of the
+Greek), and the two shades of the _ch_-sound in German, as in na_ch_ and
+i_ch_, are instances of crude sounds in refined Languages, for which
+other Languages, more fastidious for Euphony, as French and Italian for
+example, naturally substitute _t_, _d_, and _k_ (_c_). The obscure and
+crude sounds would always retain, however (in respect to the idea of a
+Universal Alphabet), a subordinate place and value, and should be
+gathered and represented in a Supplementary Alphabet for special and
+particular uses.
+
+It has been the mistake of Phoneticians and Philologians, heretofore, to
+recognize no difference in the relative importance of sounds. They have
+sought, through every barbarous dialect, as well as every refined
+tongue, and gathered by the drag-net of observation, every barbarous and
+obscure as well as every polite sound which by any accident ever enters
+into the constitution of speech. The clucks of Hottentot Tribes and the
+whistle heard in some of the North American Languages have been reckoned
+in, upon easy terms, with the more serviceable and euphonious members of
+the Phonetic family, and mere trivial shades of sounds were put upon the
+same footing as the pivotal sounds themselves. This is as if certain
+obdurate compounds were introduced in the first instance among Chemical
+Elements--which subsequent analysis may even prove to be the case in
+respect to some substances that we now recognize as Elements--and then,
+by assigning to the least important of Elements the same rank, and
+giving to them the same attention as to the most important, the number
+were augmented beyond the practical or working body of Elements, and our
+treatises upon Chemistry encumbered by a mass of useless matter. Or
+again, it is as if among the Elements of Music were included all
+conceivable sounds, as the squeal, the shriek, the sob, etc.; and as if,
+in addition to this, the least intervals, the quarter tones for
+instance, were ranked as the musical equals of the whole tones.
+
+If it should prove a matter of fact, as capable of exact scientific
+demonstration as any other, that the Consonant and Vowel Elements of
+Oral Language are, in a radical and important sense, repetitory of, or
+correspondential with, Musical Tones or the Elements of Music, as well
+as with Chemical Elements, and these again with the Elements of
+Numerical Calculation, of Form, or the Science of Morphology, and, in
+fine, with the Prime Metaphysical Elements of Being, or the first
+Categories of Thought, perhaps we may by such speculations catch a
+glimpse of the possibilities of a great lingual discovery, having the
+attributes here indicated. _Why should not the Elements of Speech have
+been brought by Nature herself into some sort of parallelism with the
+Elements of Thought which it is the special province of Speech to
+represent?_ Why, again, should not the Prime Elements of every new
+domain of Being be merely a Repetition in new form of the Prime Elements
+of the Universe, as a whole, and of those especially of Language, its
+representative domain?--Language being the literal word, as Universal
+Law is the Logos or the Word _par excellence_, and Divine. In that
+event, every speech-element would be of necessity inherently charged
+with the precise kind and degree of meaning specifically relating it,
+first to one of the Prime Elements of Being, metaphysically considered,
+and then, by an echo of resemblance, to one of the Prime Elements of
+every subordinate domain of Being throughout the Universe. The
+Combinations of the Letter-Sounds would then constitute words exactly,
+simply, and naturally expressive of any combination of the Elements of
+Being, either, first, in the Universal domain, or, secondly, in any
+subordinate domain, physical or psychical. In this way a grand and
+wonderful system of technicals would be wrought out for all the
+sciences--_provided by Nature herself, and discovered, only, by man_. It
+is at least certain that if a grand Science of Analogy is ever to be
+discovered, capable of Unifying all our knowledges, an anticipation
+vaguely entertained by our most advanced scientific minds, it must be
+sought for primarily among the simplest elements of every domain of
+science, or, what is the same thing, every domain of Thought and Being.
+It is alike certain that heretofore the first step even has never been
+rightly taken among the men of science to investigate in that direction.
+The failure of all those who have entertained the idea of a Universal
+Analogy as a basis of Scientific Unity, has resulted from the fact that,
+drawn rapidly along by the beauty of their conceptions, they have
+attempted to rush forward into the details of their subject, and have
+lost themselves in the infinity of these, without the wisdom and
+patience to establish a basis for their immense fabric in the exact
+discovery and knowledge of Elements. They have hastened forward to the
+limbs and twigs and leaves and flowers and fruitage, without having
+securely planted the roots of their scientific tree in the solid earth.
+Such was the case with Oken, the great German Physio-Philosopher and
+Transcendental Anatomist, the pupil of Hegel, who exerted a profound
+influence over the scientific mind of Germany for thirty years, but has
+now sunk into disrepute for want of just that elementary and
+demonstrative discovery of first Elements, and the rigorous adhesion to
+such perceptions of that kind as were partially entertained by him and
+his school of powerful thinkers and scientists.
+
+To repeat the leading idea above, which is so immensely pregnant with
+importance, and, perhaps we may add, so essentially new: The
+combinations of Speech-Elements--in a perfect and normal Language for
+the Human Race, which we are here assuming that Nature should have
+provided, and which may be only awaiting discovery--when they should be
+rightly or scientifically arranged into words and sentences, would be
+exactly concurrent and parallel with the combinations of the _Prime
+Elements_ of Thought and Being in the Real Universe; so that each word,
+so formed, would become exactly charged with the kind and amount of
+meaning contained in the thing named or the conception intended. An idea
+will thus be obtained by the reader, somewhat vague, no doubt, at first,
+but which would become perfectly distinct, as the subject should be
+gradually unfolded, of the way in which a universal language naturally
+expressive of Thoughts and Feelings, and capable of unlimited expansion,
+might perhaps be evolved from a profound understanding of the Analogies
+of the Universe. It is important, however, in order that this theory,
+now when it is first presented, should not unnecessarily prejudice
+cautious and conservative minds, and seem to them wholly Utopian, to
+guard it by the additional statement that, while such a language might
+be appropriately denominated Universal, there is a sense in which it
+would still not be so; or, in other words, that it could only become
+Universal by causing to coalesce with its own scientifically organized
+structure, the best material already wrought out, and existing as
+_natural growth_ in the dead and living languages now extant; by
+absorbing them, so to speak, in itself. It would have no pretension,
+therefore, directly to supersede any of the existing languages, nor even
+ultimately to dispense with the great mass of the material found in any
+of them.
+
+It is a common prejudice among the learned that Language is a growth,
+and cannot in any sense be a structure; in other words, that it is
+purely the subject of the instinctive or unthoughted development of man,
+and not capable of being derived from reflection, or the deliberate
+application of the scheming faculty of the intellect. A little
+reflection will show that this opinion is only a half truth. It is
+certain that language has received its primitive form and first
+development by the instinctive method. It is equally true, however, that
+even as respects our existing languages, they have been overlaid by a
+subsequent formation, originating with the development of the
+_Sciences_, due wholly to reflection on the scheming faculty of man, and
+already equal in extension to the primitive growth. The Nomenclature of
+each of the Sciences has been devised by the reflective genius of
+individuals, and arbitrarily imposed, so to speak, upon the Spoken and
+Written Languages of the World, as they previously existed. From the
+cabinets and books of the learned, they gradually pass into the speech
+of the laity, and become incorporated with the primitive growth. If,
+instead of the Carbonate of Soda, the Protoxide of Nitrogen, and other
+Chemical Technicalities arbitrarily formed in modern times from the
+ancient Greek Language, terms which the ancient Greeks themselves never
+heard nor conceived of, we had words derived from similar combinations
+of Anglo-Saxon or German Roots; if, for instance, for Protoxide of
+Nitrogen, we had the _First-sour-stuffness_, or the
+_First-sharp-thingness of Salt-petreness_, and so throughout the immense
+vocabulary of chemistry, what an essentially different aspect would the
+whole English Language now wear! Had Lavoisier, therefore, chosen the
+Anglo-Saxon or the German as the basis of the chemical nomenclature now
+in use, we can readily perceive how the intellectual device of a single
+savant, would, ere this time, have sent a broad current of new
+development through the heart of all the advanced Languages of the
+earth; of a different kind wholly, but no more extensive, no more novel,
+and truly foreign to the primitive instinctual growth of those
+Languages, no more purely the result of intellectual contrivance, than
+the current of development to which he actually did give origin.
+
+Lavoisier chose the dead Greek as a fountain from which to draw the
+elements of his new verbal compounds, assigning to those elements
+arbitrarily new volumes of meaning, and constructing from them, with no
+other governing principle than his own judgment of what seemed best, a
+totally new Language, as it were, adequate to the wants of the new
+Science. Still, despite these imperfections in the method, the demand,
+with the growth of the new ideas, for a new expansion of the powers of
+Language, in a given direction, made the contrivance of the great
+chemist a successful interpolation upon the speech-usages of the world.
+It is certainly not therefore inconceivable--because of any governing
+necessity that Language should be a purely natural growth--that other
+and greater modifications of the speech of mankind may occur; when--not
+an arbitrary contrivance upon an imperfect basis and of a limited
+application is in question, but--when a real discovery, the revelation
+of the true scientific bases of Language, and limitless applications in
+all directions, should be concerned.
+
+On the other hand, the extent of the practical applications of strictly
+scientific principles to the Structure of Language is subject to
+limitation. Even mathematics, theoretically the most unlimited of the
+existing Sciences, is practically limited very soon by the complexity of
+the questions involved in the higher degrees of equations. In the same
+manner, while it may be possible to construct a Scientific Language
+adequate to all the wants of Language, in which exactness is involved;
+that is to say, capable of classifying and naming every object and idea
+in the Universe which is itself capable of exact classification and
+definition, still there remains an immense sphere, an equal half, it may
+be said, of the Universe of objects and conceptions, which have not that
+susceptibility; which are, in other words, so complex, so idiosyncratic,
+or so vague in their nature, that the best guide for the formation of an
+appropriate word for their expression is not Intellect or Reflection,
+but that very Instinct which has presided over the formation of such
+Languages as we now have. We may accurately define a triangle or a cube,
+and might readily bring them within the range of a Universal Language
+scientifically constructed; but who would venture to attempt by any
+verbal contrivance to denote the exact elements of thought and feeling
+which enter into the meaning of the verbs _to screech_ or _to twinge_?
+
+There is, therefore, ample scope and a peremptory demand for both
+methods of lingual development. The New Scientific Language herein
+suggested would be universal within the limit within which Science
+itself is universal. But there is another sphere within which Science,
+born of the Intellect, has only a subordinate sway, and in which
+instinct, or that faculty which, in the higher aspect of it, we
+denominate Intuition, is supreme. This faculty has operated as instinct
+in the first stage of the growth of Language, the Natural or
+Instinctual; it should now give place to the Intellect, in the second
+stage, the Scientific; after which it should regain its ascendency as
+Intuition, in the final finish and perfectionment of the Integral Speech
+of Mankind, the Artistic.
+
+Such a Language would be, to all other Languages, precisely what a
+unitary Science would be to all the special Sciences; and we have seen
+how it might happen that the same discovery should furnish both the
+Language and the Science. Without rudely displacing any existing
+Language, it would, besides filling its own central sphere of uses,
+furnish a rallying point of unity between them all. It would ally them
+to itself, not by the destruction of their several individualities, but
+by developing the genius of each to the utmost. It would enrich them
+all, by serving as the common interpreter between them, until each would
+attain something of the powers of all, or at least the full capacity for
+availing itself of the aid of all others, and chiefly of the central
+tongue, in all those respects in which in consequence of its own special
+character it should remain individually defective. The new Scientific
+and Central Language might thus plant itself in the midst of the
+Languages; gradually assimilate them to itself; drawing at the same time
+an augmentation of its own materials from them, until they would become
+mere idioms of it, and finally, perhaps, in a more remote future,
+disappear altogether as distinct forms of speech, and be blended into
+harmony in the bosom of the central tongue.
+
+The resources of Language for the formation of new words, by the
+possible euphonic combination of elementary sounds, is as nearly
+infinite as any particular series of combinations usually called
+infinite; all such series having their limitations, as in the case of
+the different orders of the Infinite in the calculus which are limited
+by the fact that there are different orders. Yet, notwithstanding that
+this inexhaustible fountain of Phonetic wealth exists directly at hand,
+none of these resources have ever been utilized by any scientific
+arrangement and advice. Only so many verbal forms as happen to have
+occurred in any given language, developed by the chance method, in the
+Greek, for instance, are chosen as a basis, and employed as elements for
+the new verbal formatives now coming into use with such astonishing
+rapidity in all the sciences. For instance, let us take the consonant
+combination _kr_ (or _cr_), and add the following series of vowels: _i_
+(pronounced _ee_), _e_ (pronounced _a_), _a_ (pronounced _ah_), _o_
+(pronounced _aw_), _u_ (pronounced _uh_), _o_ (pronounced _o_), and _u_
+(pronounced _oo_); and we construct the following series of euphonic
+triliteral roots:
+
+Kri (Kree)
+
+Kre (Kra or Kray)
+
+Kra (Krah)
+
+Kr_o_ (Kraw)
+
+Kr_u_ (Kruh)
+
+Kro (Kro)
+
+Kru (Kroo).
+
+Let us now add the termination _o_, and we have the following list of
+formatives:
+
+Kri-o (Kreè-o)
+
+Kre-o (Kra-o)
+
+Kra-o (Krah-o)
+
+Kr_o_-o (Kraw-o)
+
+Kr_u_-o (Kr_uh_-o)
+
+Kro-o (Kro-o)
+
+Kru-o (Kroo-o).
+
+Of these verbal forms only two occur in any of the well-known
+Southwestern Languages of Europe, namely, _Creo_, I CREATE, of the
+Latin, Italian, etc., and _Crio_, I REAR, of the Spanish. The other
+forms are entirely unused. Of any other simple series of Euphonic
+combinations, such as Phonetic art can readily construct, there is the
+same wasteful neglect, and, in consequence of this total failure of the
+scientific world to extract these treasures of Phonic wealth lying
+directly beneath their feet, they are driven to such desperate devices
+as that of naming the two best-known and most familiar order of fishes,
+those usually found on our breakfast tables, _Acanthopterygii
+Abdominales_, and _Malacopterygii Subbrachiati_; and the common and
+beautiful bird called bobolink is _Dolichonyx Orixyvora_. For the same
+reason--the entire absence of any economical and systematized use of our
+phonetic materials by the scientific world--the writer found himself,
+recently, in attempting certain generalizations of the domain of
+science, stranded almost at the commencement, upon such verbal shoals as
+_Anthropomorphus Inorganismoidismus_; and the subsequent steps in the
+mere naming of discriminations simple enough in themselves, became
+wholly impossible. The urgent necessity existing, therefore, for the
+radical intervention of Science in the discovery of true principles
+applicable to the construction of its own tools and instruments, can
+hardly be denied or questioned.
+
+The immense condensation of meaning, and the consequent compactness and
+copiousness of which a Language based on a meaning inherently contained
+by analogy in the simplest elements of sound would be susceptible, would
+give to such a Language advantages as the instrument of thought and
+communication, which are but very partially illustrated in the
+superiority of printing by movable types over manuscript, for the rapid
+multiplication of books.
+
+In the _compound words_ of existing Languages each root-word of the
+combination has a distinct meaning, and the joint meaning of the parts
+so united is the description or definition of the new idea; thus in
+German, _Finger_ is FINGER, and _Hut_ is HAT, and _Finger-hut_
+(FINGER-HAT) is a _thimble_; _Hand_ is HAND, _Schue_ is SHOE, and
+_Hand-schue_ is _a glove_, etc. So in English, _Wheel-barrow_,
+_Thunder-storm_, etc. The admirable expressiveness of such terms, and
+the great superiority in this respect of Languages like the Sanscrit,
+Greek, German, etc., in which such self-defining combinations are
+readily formed, over Spanish, Italian, French, and other derivative
+languages, the genius of which resists combination, is immediately
+perceived and acknowledged. But if we analyze any one of these compound
+words, _Finger-hut_, for instance, we shall perceive that while each of
+the so-called elements of combination, _Finger_ and _Hut_, has a
+distinct meaning, which enters into the more specific meaning of the
+compound, yet they are not, in any true sense, elements, or, in other
+words, that they are not the ultimate elements of the compound words.
+_Finger_ is itself constituted, in the first instance, of two syllables,
+_Fing_ and _er_, which, in accordance with the same principle upon which
+the compound word _Finger-hut_ is organized, should describe the thing
+signified, as would be the case if _Fing_ meant HAND, and _er_ meant
+CONTINUATION. _Finger_ would then mean HAND-CONTINUATION, and
+_Finger-hut_ (_thimble_) would then be a HAND-CONTINUATION-HAT. But,
+again, _Fing_ consists of three elementary sounds, _f-i-ng_, _er_ of
+two, _e-r_, and _hut_ of three, _h-u-t_. Suppose now that the primary
+sound _f_ had been scientifically discovered to be correspondential
+throughout all the realms of Nature and of Thought with _Superiority_,
+_High-position_, or _Upperness_; _i_ with _centrality_, or _main body_,
+and _ng_ with _member_ or _branch_; the syllable _Fing_ would then
+signify UPPER-BODY-BRANCH, a very proper description of _the arm_.
+Suppose that _e_ signified, in the same way, _flat, palm-like ideas and
+things generally_ and that _r_ alone signified _continuation_; then _er_
+would signify PALM-CONTINUATION, and _Finger_ would signify an
+UPPER-BODYBRANCH-PALM-CONTINUATION, or, in other words, a
+_Palm-continuation of an upper-body-branch_, and would so be completely
+_descriptive of_, at the same time that it would _denote_, a Finger.
+Suppose, again, that _h_ signified inherently _rotundity_ or
+_roundness_; _u_, _closeness_; and _t_, _roof_ or _covering_; then _hut_
+would signify ROUND-CLOSED-COVER, a proper description of a _hat_; and
+_Finger-hut_ would then mean
+AN-UPPER-BODY-BRANCH-PALM-CONTINUATION-ROUND-CLOSED-COVER, or _the
+round-closed-cover of a palm-continuation of a superior limb or branch
+of the body_. It will be at once perceived how, with such resources of
+signification at command, compounds like _Acanthopterygii_ to signify
+_thornfins_, _Malacopterygii Subbrachiati_, to signify _Under-arm soft
+fins_, or _Anthropomorphus Inorganismoidismus_, to signify _things in
+unorganized form, having a resemblance to man_, would soon come to be
+regarded as the lingual monsters which they really are.
+
+The difference between commencing the composition of words by the real
+elements of speech, represented by single letters, each charged with its
+own appropriate meaning, and conveying that meaning into every compound
+into which it should enter, from commencing the composition by assuming
+long words already formed in some existing language, as _Anthropos_
+(Greek word for _man_), _Acanthos_ (Greek word for _spine_), _Keron_
+(Greek word for _fin_ or _wing_), etc., as the first element of the new
+compounds, is infinite in its results upon the facility, copiousness,
+and expressiveness of the terminology evolved. It is like the difference
+of man working by the aid of the unlimited resources of tools and
+machinery and the knowledge of chemistry, on the one hand, and man
+working with his unaided _bare hands_, and in ignorance of the nature of
+the substances he employs, on the other hand. The scientific world has
+not hitherto known how to construct the lingual tools and instruments
+which are indispensable to its own rapidly augmenting and complicated
+operations; to analyze and apply the lingual materials at its command;
+and to simplify and unify the nomenclatures of all the sciences, in
+order to quicken a thousandfold the operation of all the mental
+faculties, in the perception and exact vocal indication of all the
+infinitely numerous close discriminations and broad generalizing
+analogies with which nature abounds.
+
+It is hardly necessary to say that the particular meanings assigned
+above to the single sounds in the analysis of the German word
+_Finger-hut_, are not assumed in any sense to be the real meanings of
+the vocal elements involved. The whole case is supposititious, and
+assumed merely to illustrate the unused possibilities of Language in the
+construction of significant words, and especially in the construction of
+scientific technicalities. To found a real Language of this kind, it
+would be necessary, first, to work up patiently to the true meanings of
+the Elementary Sounds of Human Speech, and then to the analogy of those
+meanings with the elements of universal being (the categories of the
+understanding, etc.), and finally of these again with the elements of
+each of the special Sciences.
+
+Could such a discovery be actually accomplished; should it prove to be
+the simple fact of nature that every sound of the human voice is
+Nature's chosen vehicle for the communication of an equally elementary
+idea; and that the Combinations of the Elementary Sounds into Words do
+inherently and necessarily, so soon as these primitive meanings and the
+law of their combination are known, produce words infinite in number and
+perfect in structure, naturally expressive of every precise idea of
+which the human mind is capable, it becomes perfectly conceivable how a
+Natural Universal Language would be evolved by discovery alone. The
+creation of the Language would belong to Nature as truly and
+absolutely--in a sense, more truly and absolutely--than our existing
+instinctual Languages. It would be in fact the normal Language of
+Humanity, from which, for the want of such a discovery, mankind has been
+unnaturally debarred. The fact would prove to be that we have ever been
+banished from our true vernacular, and have been, all our lives,
+speaking foreign or strange tongues, from which we have only to recur or
+come home. May we not, therefore, found in Science the rational
+expectation, that in due time, from a Lingual Paradise Lost in the
+remote Past, we may recur to a Lingual Paradise Regained, in literal
+fulfilment of the promise of prophecy, that all the nations of the earth
+shall be of one speech?
+
+
+
+
+A SUMMER'S NIGHT.
+
+[_Translated literally from the original Polish of Count S. Krasinski,
+by Prof. Podbielski; prepared for_ THE CONTINENTAL _by Martha Walker
+Cook._]
+
+'O'er this sad world Death folds his gloomy pall,
+Bright buds hatch worms, flowers die, and woe shrouds all.'
+
+                                  MALIZEWSKI.
+
+'Oh, look on me, my fellow countrymen,
+From the same Fatherland! On me, so young,
+Passing o'er the last road, gazing for the last time
+On Helios--to see him rise no more for ever!
+In his cold cradle Death rolls all asleep;
+Me _living_ he conducts to his black shores;
+Me wretched! unbetrothed! upon whose ears
+No bridal chant has ever hymned its joys,
+Stern Acheron alone calls to his side,
+And Death must be my icy Bridegroom now!'
+
+                       SOPHOCLES: _Antigone_.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+I behold her as they lead her forth, with myrtle wreath upon her brow,
+and floating drapery of snow. She moves slowly, as if in fear, and the
+church rises like a vast cemetery before her eyes. Charmed with her
+modest loveliness, men smile on her as she glides forward, while
+children, changed into little angels, strew fresh flowers before her.
+The bishop and attendant priests look bright in gay dalmatics; and
+throngs of people crowd round, praising, envying, and wishing bliss. She
+alone is silent, with long lashes shading her downcast eyes, as she
+leans on the arms of her maidens.
+
+Weariness is in every movement of her slight form, her nerves seem
+unstrung, and the rays of soul gleam vague and troubled through the
+expanded pupils of her blue eyes; it were indeed hard to divine whether
+plaint or prayer would breathe through the half-open lips. As she passes
+on before the shrines and chapels she lifts her hand, as if intending to
+make the sign of the cross, but she seems without energy to complete the
+symbols, and they fall broken and half formed in the air. Inclining her
+head before the Mother of God, she bends as if about to kneel, but, her
+strength evidently failing her, she moves tremblingly on toward the
+sanctuary, and the Great Altar in its gloomy depths looms before her
+like a sepulchre.
+
+There, encircled by relations and friends, with pride and pleasure
+beaming from his aged eyes, her father awaits her; and well may he be
+proud, for never had God given to declining years a lovelier child. She
+shines upon the sunset of his life with the growing lustre of the
+evening star, and never has its light beamed dim upon him until this
+very hour. He will not, however, think of this momentary eclipse now,
+for this same hour will see the fulfilment of his brightest dreams. In
+his joy and pride he exclaims to the friends around him: 'Look on my
+child; how young, pure, and innocent she is--trembling in the ignorance
+of her approaching happiness!' Then he gazes wistfully, far as his eye
+can reach, down the long aisles of the church, to ascertain if the
+bridegroom yet appears, and, seeing him not, his gray eyebrows fall, and
+settle into a frown.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But peace soon again smoothes his broad forehead. Alas! the illusions of
+the old stand round their petrifying souls like statues of granite; no
+earthly power avails to strike them down, and death alone can break
+them. The young see their dreams floating in the air, while shifting
+rainbows play above them as they rise and melt upon the view. But the
+hopes of the old grow hard and stony as they near the grave; their
+_desires_ assume the form of _realities_. The harsh rock of bygone
+experience stands between them and the truths of the present. Seating
+themselves immovably upon it, the surging life-stream hurtles on far
+below, bearing them not forward on its hurrying flow. Withered garlands
+and the ashes of once fiery hearts drift on; shattered wrecks, with torn
+sails and broken masts, driven and tossed by eternal whirlwinds, appear
+and vanish in the river's rush; but the old remain motionless above. The
+hot rain of stars forever falling there dies out with dull moan, while
+the glad waves and white foam laugh as the ruined wrecks toss helplessly
+in the strong winds; but the aged heed it not: they have grown into one
+with the rock of the past, they build air castles over the roaring
+depths, they look upon the waves, as they surge into each other, as
+stable altars of peace and happiness. They command their sons and
+daughters to vow faith in the light of the past, but ere the oath is
+fully spoken, the altar is under other skies, encircled by other
+horizons!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Surrounded by friends in gay attire, the bridegroom, full of life and
+vigor, rushes into the church. He wears a national dress, _but his
+nation is not that of the old man_. The crowd disperse from right to
+left as he passes on, greeting him with lowly bows: scarcely deigning to
+return the courtesy, he clatters up the aisle with rapid stride, and
+stands by the side of the kneeling bride. He places his lips to the ear
+of the old man, and whispers to him; they converse in low tones, the old
+man with an air of regal authority, the young one gesturing rapidly with
+his hands.
+
+The bishops now slowly approach, the tapers are lighted upon the altar,
+a solemn silence falls upon the holy temple, two hands, two souls are to
+be united forever! A shiver of awe thrills through the assembly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The beams of the setting sun pour in through the stained panes of the
+windows their lines of crimson light, as if streams of blood were
+flowing through the church. Deepening in the approaching twilight, they
+fall in their dying splendor on the brow of a man who stands alone in
+one of the side chapels. The figure of a dead hero extended upon a
+monument lies near him, as, immovable as the statue itself, he stands
+with his gaze riveted upon the altar whence the bishop addresses the
+bride. The crimson light falling full upon him betrays the secrets of
+his soul, his noble brow tells of fierce struggle within, but neither
+prayer, sigh, nor groan escapes him. His lips are closely pressed
+together, while suppressed anguish writhes them into a stern smile--but
+the streams of ruby light which had shone on his face for the moment,
+fade in the twilight, and he is lost in the gloom of the deepening
+shadows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But when the vows were all spoken, the ceremonies over, when the
+bridegroom raised up the bride, and she fell into the arms of her
+father, when he bore her onward to the gates of the church, with
+thousands of tapers following after, when the crowd dispersed, and the
+sounds of the footsteps were dying away in the distance, and the
+cathedral grew still as the grave, holding only the dead and the few
+half-living monks moving darkly in its depths--the man on whom had shone
+the crimson light leaves the chapel, comes up the aisle, strikes his
+breast, and falls forward on the steps of the altar, rises suddenly, and
+again falls, then seats himself, while the lights from behind the great
+crucifix of silver shine down solemnly upon him. His face is turned away
+from the holy things of the sanctuary; his eyes gaze afar, past the
+gates through which the bride had vanished. He sees the blue night-sky,
+and a single star sparkling upon it, and as he looks upon the star, he
+takes a sword from under his cloak, draws the steel from the scabbard,
+and, still gazing upon the star, sharpens it on his whetstone. Thus,
+with widely opened eye, yet seeing, hearing nothing, the somnambulist,
+wrapped in deep, magnetic sleep, strides on in the moonlight, possessed
+by a power of which he is not conscious, which may stain his hands with
+blood, or hold him back from the verge of an abyss. Passion drinks its
+glow from the rays of the sun; it may lead us safely, or drive us far
+astray!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A monk approaches the man kneeling before the high altar, and says:
+
+'Brother, whosoever thou mayst be, go to rest, and do not disturb the
+peace of the Lord.'
+
+The man answers nothing. Another draws near him, saying:
+
+'Away from the church; be not guilty of sacrilege!'
+
+The man makes no reply. A third monk stands beside him and says:
+
+'I excommunicate thee, and the steel which thou darest to draw at the
+very foot of the cross.'
+
+The culprit then rises, and replies:
+
+'I waited for these words, that the stroke might be certain, and the
+blow mortal.'
+
+He leaves the church slowly--slowly, as if counting his own footfalls,
+knowing them to be his last on earth!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile the night falls so softly, the skies hang so transparently
+above, the air is so tranquil, that the soul trembles with delight, and
+the heart unconsciously forebodes happiness. The stars peer up above the
+mountains, like the eyes of angels flashing through the blue spaces of
+the heavens. Swathed in her bands of darkness, and breathing up to them
+the perfume of her flowers and the sighs of her lovers, the earth seems
+grateful to them for their golden glances. A fitting night, surely, for
+a bridal so illustrious as the one we have just seen; a long spring will
+bloom from it upon the aged father. What more could he ask for his
+children? His new son in high favor with the emperor, lord of lands and
+serfs; his daughter, good and beautiful as an angel, goes not
+portionless into the house of her husband, but is the sole heiress of
+immense estates. What maiden would not envy her; what youth not wish to
+take his place? And the thoughts of the old man run pleasantly on: he
+thinks how happily his days will flow, blessed with the smiles of his
+daughter, and surrounded by the splendor of his son. He already sees the
+little grandchildren springing up before him; flowers blooming along the
+pathway leading to his grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A splendid festival is to take place in his castle; few princes would
+be able to give such an entertainment. The grounds are illumined as if
+it were day, barrels of pitch are everywhere burning, torches are
+blazing high upon his walls, windows and doors are thrown open, harps
+sound and trumpets thunder, mazourkas swell upon the ear, and the gay
+groups twine, twist, reel, half mad with joyous excitement. The old man
+strays through the lighted halls, and converses with his guests. Tears
+tremble in his eyes. Ah, many tears had gathered there in the troubled
+days of his life, through its hours of sweat and blood, but they are all
+passing now into these drops of gratitude to God who has brought him to
+this happy time in which past sorrows are all to be forgotten. Moving
+out upon his wide porticos, he pours coins from dishes of silver to the
+people below. Returning, he places clusters of diamonds on the young
+bosoms of the bridesmaids. Servants follow his footsteps, bending under
+the wealth they bear, handing to him glittering swords and golden
+chains, ostrich plumes, and Turkish scymitars, which, in memory of the
+day, he distributes among his guests. Sometimes he stops to take a
+chalice from the hands of a page, and wets his lips with Tokay, greeting
+his guests as he moves courteously on, wishing to warm all with the
+sunshine of his own happiness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He enters now the central dome of the castle, lined with exotic trees
+and perfumed plants; the vaulted roof is corniced with wrought marble,
+emblazoned with escutcheons of his ancestors, unsullied, glorious, holy!
+Stopping at the entrance, he looks for his child: she is not among the
+dancers, nor in the throngs of the spectators. The bridegroom is indeed
+there, amusing himself with the various beauties present; and, for the
+second time in this happy day, the forehead of the old man lowers in
+grief or anger. He makes his way through the crowd, passes on through
+the orange trees, in the niches between which stand the now deserted
+seats rich in broidered tapestry. He lingers among them seeking his
+child, when he suddenly stops as if stricken with fierce pain. He has
+found her now; she is sitting quite alone, gazing sadly on a bunch of
+roses lying on her knee: dreamily she picks off the perfumed leaves,
+until the bare stems and thorns alone remain in her fragile hands. The
+old man silently approaches her. Suppressing his emotion, he says, with
+gentle voice:
+
+'How happy thy poor mother would have been to-day, my daughter! Ah, why
+was it not the will of God she should have blessed this bridal hour!'
+
+She raises her head, crushing the remains of the roses in her trembling
+hands, and in her confusion tries to fasten them on the hem of her
+dress: the sharp little stems plant themselves there, but stain its snow
+with the blood they had torn from the unconscious fingers.
+
+'Why weepest thou, my child? It cannot surely be the memory of thy
+mother which so moves thee: thou hast never seen her--she went to the
+fathers in the very hour in which thou camest to me. Look, daughter,
+thou woundest thyself!'
+
+He takes her hand in his, and softly draws from it the sharp thorns.
+
+'O father, it is not that which pains me! Forgive me--it is that--only
+that, my father.'
+
+She stands silently before him--great tears were falling slowly down her
+cheeks. He leans heavily upon her arm:
+
+'Thou must support me now, child, for I grow old and frail, my knees
+tremble under me; be thou my stay!'
+
+He walks on thoughtfully with her, trying to speak, but saying nothing,
+while around them float the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music
+swells upon the air.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As they move on, the great clock of the castle strikes the hour. It is
+fastened to the moulding high on the wall; over it sits an ancient
+monarch in bronze, a ruler of many kingdoms, and at each stroke the
+statue of a palatine sallies forth, bows to the king of bronze, and
+again disappears within the opening wall--twelve strokes toll as they
+pass, and twelve palatines appear, make obeisance, and vanish. Hark!
+from the distant chambers sound the choir of female voices; vague and
+dreamy the notes begin, but at each return they grow clearer and more
+defined. They are gliding on from hall to hall, ever drawing nearer and
+ever calling more loudly upon the bride. The old man trembles; the pale
+girl falls into his arms. But soon recovering, she flies on from passage
+to passage, from room to room, from gallery to gallery, from vault to
+vault, everywhere pursued by the choir of bridesmaids, dragging the old
+man with her, not able to utter a single word--while around them breathe
+the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music swells upon the air.
+
+At last they stop in the chapel of the castle, where the ancestors rest
+in their coffins of stone. A few tapers burn around, and black draperies
+broidered with silver flow closely round the tombs. She, the youngest
+and last of the proud House, falls upon the grave of her mother,
+shudders, but speaks not. The old man says to the trembling girl:
+
+'Daughter, God did not vouchsafe to give me a male descendant to prolong
+the power of our race; He blessed me only with a maiden; but thy husband
+has sworn to take thy name, and thy children will bear the name of our
+fathers. Honor, then, the favor with which God has crowned thee. No lady
+in the land is thy equal, heiress as thou art of glory, treasures, and
+estates--it is thy duty to be obedient and faithful to thy husband until
+death.'
+
+He speaks to her in soft, low tones; slowly, as if he sought with each
+word to touch the heart of the silent child. She answers not, but lower
+and lower droops the fair young head, until her pale face is buried in
+her white hands, and the bridal wreath and veil fall from her brow upon
+the grave of her mother. A low groan bursts from the heart of the old
+man as he cries:
+
+'Daughter, dost thou hear? they approach to bear thee from the breast on
+which thou hast rested from thy very birth; to take thee from the arms
+of the old man who has so loved thee! Look up, look into my face; thou
+art another's now--take leave of me--say, 'Father, I am happy!''
+
+More and more closely she presses her hands to her face--and remains
+gloomily silent.
+
+'Child, dost thou really wish to lay me here among the dead? Dost thou
+desire me to rise no more on earth forever? Ah, the love in thy blue
+eyes has been my solace through my many life-storms. Thou art my single
+pearl, and I have given thee to the hands of the stranger, that thy
+brilliancy may remain unclouded, that it may ever glitter in its full
+splendor. What is the matter with thee? Speak, child, even if it be to
+complain, to tell me thou art wretched.'
+
+Grasping the white marble of the grave with both hands for support, with
+gasping breath he awaits her answer. The vengeful sword of remorse is
+already in his soul; one groan, one spasm of anguish from the innocent
+victim would break his heart. Raising her heavy eyelids, his child seems
+to trace an expression of pity on his face, and for a moment dreams that
+hope is not yet past. Kneeling on the marble of the grave, and turning
+her young face, so sweet in its appealing anguish, full upon him, a
+_name_ forces itself through her quivering lips--a sudden shivering
+shakes the frame of the old man, throwing him off from the grave of his
+young wife.
+
+'What name hast thou uttered? It must never be repeated--never! No; it
+were impossible. Tell me I have not heard thee aright; let it rest in
+eternal oblivion! Thou canst not dream of that ungrateful exile,
+conspiring against me because I prepared for him a brilliant future--the
+son of my brother joining with my enemies to compass my ruin! If them
+regrettest him, if thou hast a single lurking hope that I will ever
+permit thee to see that banished rebel, to clasp his hand in even common
+friendship, may the eternal curses of God rest upon you both!'
+
+A voiceless victim offered up upon the altar of the vengeful gods, the
+maiden has as yet suffered in silence, but rising now in solemn dignity,
+in a cold, firm, resolute tone, she says:
+
+'I love him, father.'
+
+The old man cannot bear these chill and fatal words. His brain reels,
+his hopes die, he falls at the foot of the grave, his soul rests for the
+moment with the ghosts of his ancestors. When he awakes to
+consciousness, the pale face of his child is bending tenderly over him,
+her caresses call him back to life. Hark! again he hears the sounding
+strophes of the wedding song; the chanting maidens cross the threshold;
+slowly singing, they surround the bride with snowy circle; nearer and
+nearer they cluster round her--she throws herself for refuge in the old
+man's arms!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The maidens now clasp, embrace the trembling bride, take her from her
+father's arms, and bear her on with them. They strew flowers in her
+path, burn incense around her, as they chant in ever-renewed chorals the
+dawning of a new and happy life, full of honor and blessing. The old man
+solemnly follows the choir until they reach the great stairway leading
+to the bridal chamber: there he bids them stop, and, making the sign of
+the cross, for the last time blesses the half-swooning girl.
+
+He stands for a moment wrapt in thought, then wends his way to the hall
+of feasting. Recovering his presence of mind, he flings aside the truth
+just forced upon him, as if it were all a dream; he commands it not to
+be; he almost persuades himself to believe it has never been! Greeting
+his guests anew, his air is calm and regal.
+
+The bridegroom, turning to his friends, exclaims:
+
+'Companions in arms, with whom I have spent so many joyous hours in camp
+and hall, I dedicate to you the hours of this my wedding night; nor will
+I seek my bride until the flush of dawn is in the sky. What hour do the
+heavens tell?'
+
+One of the revellers rises, draws back the curtain from the window, and
+says:
+
+'It is just past midnight; the moon rides high in the sky.'
+
+'Then am I still yours,' exclaims the youth, 'and again I pledge you in
+the rosy wine.' As he speaks he fills the cup of gold studded with
+diamonds, swallows the contents, and passes it to the nearest guest. But
+the heavy palm of the castle's lord rests upon his shoulder. Seizing
+another brimming cup, he says: 'I drain this to thy health, father, and
+our guests will surely pledge it with me.'
+
+The lord of the castle thanks him not; he points to the open door,
+through which may be seen, as they wind along the distant galleries and
+archways, the retreating forms of the now silent bridesmaids. Shaking
+his blonde curls, the youth answers:
+
+'These brave men have always served me faithfully; I have sworn to
+consecrate this night to them; we drink and feast together until Aurora
+leads the dawn.' Seizing the hands of those nearest to him, he resumes:
+'Companions, for this sacrifice swear to pursue, to hunt to death, as I
+shall command, the vile mob of rebels and traitors who infest these
+mountains.'
+
+They give the pledge, while _vivats_ fill the hall. 'Long live our
+prince!' The face of the proud old man glimmers with a bluish rage, but
+the loud plaudits, the outstretched arms, the dazzling, naked swords,
+the wild, warlike enthusiasm bewilder his brain, while pride and hate,
+splendor and power, tempting and blinding his soul, veil in fleeting
+glitter the broken form of the lonely, weeping, wretched child. He is
+carried away in the excitement of the hour, and the loud voice which had
+once thundered in the battles of _his own_ unhappy land, joins in the
+cry: 'Death to the rebels!' Deigning not, however, to remain longer with
+the guests, he sternly beckons to his attendants. They file in order
+before him with lighted torches. The youth rises, leaves his friends for
+an instant, and accompanies to the door of the saloon the old man, who
+takes leave of him with an air of aversion, while the youth returns to
+his friends:
+
+'By my good sword!' he exclaims, 'I will brook no control. I wedded a
+fair girl, not chains nor fetters. Let the dim moon light the solving of
+love's riddle for older maidens; my bride is young and lovely enough to
+bear the growing light of dawn.'
+
+Then taking aim with his Greek knife at the golden boss on the opposite
+wall, he strikes it in the centre; the guests follow, aim, and knives
+fly through the air, but none strike the centre of the target except
+himself. Full cups are poured to pledge their glorious chief. The flush
+of gratified vanity blooms in his young cheek, he caresses his mustache
+and plays with his blonde hair, he jokes with his guests; his jests are
+keen, light, witty, piercing like the sting of a wasp, and loud
+applauses greet his eager ear. Gliding over the surface of life, knowing
+nothing of its depths, he floats gracefully through its shallows. His
+blood, quickened by praise, flushes his face, his eye sparkles, his
+features play, but his heart is empty, his soul void, his intellect
+without expansion; he is as vain, weak, and selfish as an old coquette.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+In their naive songs, our people long remembered the valley in which the
+chieftain parted from his comrades. Our fathers called it the Valley of
+Farewells; our children so will call it should our songs endure through
+another generation--should not our language, with ourselves, be
+extinguished forever!
+
+In a valley circled by three hills of gentle slope, whose feet bathe in
+the same stream, but whose tops are widely severed, stands the man who
+but an hour before had borne the ban of excommunication from the altar
+of God. Male figures, clad in black from head to foot, with pallid
+faces, and the flash of steel glittering in the moonlight, seem to have
+been awaiting his appearance, for when they perceive him, the reclining
+rise to their feet, the standing descend to the borders of the stream,
+banners are unfurled in the summer's night, but no huzzas break the
+silence. Seating himself upon a rock on the banks of the stream, he is
+himself the first to speak, his voice chiming time with the murmur of
+the waters, as the tones of the singer with the sounding harpstrings.
+His words, though low, reach the hearts of his companions:
+
+'Soldiers! for some time past I have been your leader, and I am sure you
+will not forget me. Treasure in your memories the last words I shall
+ever address to you, for in them is the old truth, firm as these rocks,
+holy as these stars. Our fathers owned this country for thousands of
+years; during all that time, exile, injustice, oppression were utterly
+unknown. Its children were numberless as the grains of wheat upon its
+plains, as the trees in its interminable forests, and the neighboring
+nations gathered for shelter under the shadow of their clustering
+sabres. What the ear now never hears, what the eye never sees, but what
+the soul of the brave never ceases to love, was their proud
+inheritance--FREEDOM! Then came, with his throngs of slaves, the King
+of the South.[A] At first he spake with guileful gentleness, pouring out
+treacherous treasures of gold before us. Differing from us in faith and
+language, he strove to unite what God had severed, and when affairs
+moved not in accordance with his wishes, he tried to force himself upon
+us with fire and sword. Shame to the dwellers in cities and the lords of
+the valleys! fearing to face the dangers and hardships of life in the
+caves of the mountains, the wilds of the forests, they submitted to the
+usurper. But you have buried yourself in them as in graves, therefore
+the day of resurrection will dawn upon you. Already I see the signs of a
+brighter future. Has not the king's own residence been fired and
+consumed? Have we not heard the screams of joy of the vultures over the
+dead bodies of his minions, while the wolves howled in chorus the long
+night through? If you would regain the inheritance of our fathers, your
+labor must be long, your best blood flow. Especially now, when from
+wandering exiles you have grown into threatening heroes, will the king
+strive to deceive you by glittering baits: but beware of the tempters;
+their promises are mountains of gold, their performances handfuls of
+mud. Look up! There is room enough in these blue skies for brave souls!
+Regret not the earth, even should you fall in battle. Even on the other
+side of the grave may the face of God be forever dark to him who
+consents to lay down his arms while his country is in bondage!
+
+[Footnote A: Russia]
+
+'Go not down into the plains to secure the golden grain; your guardian
+angel dwells in the mountains--the time is coming when you shall reap a
+full harvest of spoils. Hearken always to the voices of the Seven who
+appointed me your leader. Their arms are weary with age and heavy work,
+but wisdom reigns supreme over the ruins of their wornout bodies. Obey
+them. When they call upon you, defend them to the last; whom they shall
+appoint chief, follow in dauntless courage; conquer with him, as you
+have always conquered with me! Soldiers, another fate demands me now. No
+morrow dawns for me upon this earth. Brothers, I bid you farewell
+forever!'
+
+The summer moon shines brightly down upon the little band of heroes.
+They start to their feet, and, gliding silently from every direction,
+they assemble round their chief, twining about him in a gloomy circle.
+
+'Where art thou going, our brave chieftain?'
+
+Stretching out his arm, he points toward the flame which still throws a
+pale light over the plain.
+
+'Stay! It is the flame of the wedding festival glaring from the halls of
+thy ancestors. We will not suffer thee to go to those who would take thy
+life; to the maiden who has betrayed thee!'
+
+He starts suddenly from the rock; his shrill cry pierces the hearts of
+the warriors:
+
+'Malign her not with falsehood! She has not betrayed me. This very night
+she will be mine. We will rest together in the long sleep of eternity.
+Comrades, I have consecrated to you the house and riches of my fathers;
+life and bliss with the woman I love I have sacrificed on the altar of
+my country; but death with her I cannot relinquish--the moment is
+near--no time is to be lost--I go. Farewell!'
+
+He passes hurriedly through them; the long folds of his cloak, the locks
+of his hair, the plumes of his cap, stream wildly on the breeze. Cries
+rise on the midnight air; they kneel before him, they circle round him,
+they stand a living wall before him, they entreat him to stop, they
+threaten to storm the castle, to take it before the dawn of day, to
+seize the bride, and bear her safely to his arms.
+
+He stays his hurrying footsteps, and the eager men fall into respectful
+silence. His voice is heard, sounding sweet indeed, but firm and deep as
+they have often heard it in the midst of battle-smoke and thunder:
+
+'I thank you from my heart; my brothers. But it cannot be! The clashing
+of our sabres must not wake the old man sleeping in the chambers of my
+forefathers. I grew up under the shadow of his hand. He first taught my
+lips to utter the holy word which names the land of our fathers; he
+planted in my soul the thirst for glory. Before our holy banners float
+again from the walls of his castle, I must sleep in death! Fate has
+inexorably decreed it. Once more, farewell!'
+
+He moves rapidly on, muttering to himself: 'What the priest of God has
+bound, man may not untie--it must be _cut_ asunder!' Unconsciously
+drawing his sword, he raises it in the air, the glittering blade
+flashing like a meteor in the rays of the summer moon.
+
+In silence and with drooping heads the soldiers follow--they know that
+what he says will surely come to pass. Predictions of his approaching
+doom had long been current among them; he had himself warned them the
+hour of separation was near. Not by the sword of the near enemy, nor by
+the arrow of the distant one, was he fore-doomed to fall. Not slowly was
+he to fade away upon a bed of mortal sickness: his own dreams and
+foreign magic had announced to him another doom! The conspirators move
+silently and solemnly on behind him, as if following a corpse. He
+already seems to them a spirit. But when he commenced the ascent of the
+hill, the long plumes of his cap streaming through rocks and trees,
+appearing and disappearing as he clambers up, they rush into pursuit.
+Separated only by mossy banks and rocky terraces, they seek the same
+hilltop. He reaches it the first. Before him flashes upon his eyes a
+full view of the illuminated castle with its towers and battlemented
+turrets; at his feet lies the abyss, thundering with the roar of falling
+waters. An enormous pine has fallen over and bridges the chasm. His men
+are close upon him; again they try to surround him; pushing off the
+nearest, he leaps upon the trunk of the gigantic pine, crawls forward
+upon it, hangs for a moment over the abyss, reaches the other side,
+descends with marvellous agility, plants himself firmly on the ground,
+with feverish strength tears out the trunk from the rocks which had held
+it fast; it trembles for a moment as if swung in a balance; he urges,
+hurls it on, and at last it falls, crushing and shivering as it strikes
+heavily against the steep sides of the rocky chasm. The soldiers feel as
+if dazzled by a sudden flash of lightning, and when the glare passes, it
+is too late! In the light of the moon they see for the last time his
+broad brow in the full beauty of life--then the abyss separates them
+forever. Holding his hands out, suspended above the chasm, as if with
+his last breath he would bless his people, he cries:
+
+'In the name of God, heroes, eternal struggle between you and the King
+of the South!'
+
+The rocks echo the full tones of the manly voice, and the depths of the
+valley repeat it. His tall form disappears among the shadows of the
+pines. The conspirators listen as if hoping to catch one word more. No
+sound greets them save the sighing of the trees, the dash of the
+waters--the manly tones of their young hero they will hear no more
+forever!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Unfortunate! the glare of madness gleams in thine eyes. While thou wert
+exposed to the gaze of thy brothers thou struggledst to control thyself,
+because thou wouldst not their last memory of thee should be clouded;
+but now thou art alone, thou throwest off restraint, and, driven on by
+vengeance, hurriest forward. Thou startlest the owl as thou scalest the
+rocks; she flaps her wing, and gazes on thee with round eyes of wonder;
+the fox, baying in the moonlight, steals into the gloom; the wolves
+howl in the ravine as thou rushest through--thou hearest not their
+cries, they fly before the wild splendor of thine eyes! Thou readiest
+the plain. Corpse-lights from the swamps flit on with thee; wildly
+laughing, thou criest: 'Race on with me, friends!' They dance round thy
+cap, and bathe thy breast with streams of pale, blue light; then, joined
+in brotherly embrace, for a moment ye speed together on; but the
+grave-lights are the first to die; then, a solitary shadow, thou
+flittest darkly over the meadows, and approachest the castle of thine
+ancestors.
+
+It shines with innumerable lights. The terraced gardens with their walks
+and perfumed shrubs lie so silently in the bright moonlight, they seem
+dreaming of the bridal bliss, the echo of the wedding music cradling
+them to sweeter sleep. The flying footsteps of the chieftain are
+suddenly arrested--he thinks he hears the opening chant of the
+bridesmaids' song, though so distant it seems rather dream than reality.
+He listens. He knows the ancient custom; he certainly hears the chorused
+strophes, the fresh, clear female voices, He rushes forward now, he
+buries his nails in the fissures of the walls, he clambers up,
+suspending himself in the air, his feet cling to the moss-grown stones,
+he seizes a vine, swings himself forward, gains the top of the wall, and
+the crushed grasses groan as he leaps down upon them. Having touched the
+earth within the enclosure, he rises up with triple power, and bounds
+into the leafy labyrinth. Oaks, ashes, pines, and firs, the remains of
+the great forest, are around him. Thickets, vineyards, and meadows lie
+in the moonlight, brooks and fountains murmur, nightingales sing; he
+reaches the trailing willows where the long branches droop into the blue
+waters of the lake, from whose depths the stars of heaven smile upon
+him. He had played under these trees as a happy boy, swum in these clear
+waves--but the memories of the past must not detain him now. He reaches
+the bower where the jessamines bloom at the foot of the lower terrace.
+This was the spot in which the maiden had revealed her soul to her
+exiled brother; here had her holy promise kindled her blue eyes, and the
+high resolve of its keeping rested on her pure brow;--he groans aloud,
+but stops not, keeping his face steadily turned to the gray wall of the
+castle. Certain of his course, whether in light or shadow, he still
+hurries on. Winding among orange trees and fountains, he enters the
+vaulted archway which leads to the castle. Ascending with every step, he
+stands at last upon a level with its pillared portico. Taking the long
+plume from his cap, he glides from beneath the vault of the archway. No
+one is near. Songs and shouts are on his left; there then must be the
+hall of festival. Silence reigns on his right, and the long ranges of
+windows glitter only with the light of the moon. At the end of the long
+gallery and near the angle of the western tower, lamps are still
+burning; a wide glass door stands partly open--it seems to him he hears
+a low moan, but so light, so inaudible, it is caught through the
+divining of the soul rather than by the hearing of the ear. But he has
+heard it. Leaving the shadow of the vaulted passage, he emerges into the
+light, like one rising from the dead; imploring his steps not to betray
+him, and supporting himself on balustrades and pillars, he glides on. As
+he approaches the half-open door, he sees the long veils of the windows
+floating like snow-wreaths in the air; behind these thin curtains he
+feels that Life and Death, hand clasped in hand, await him. He falters,
+stops, presses his hand on his heart, but his fingers encounter the cold
+steel of his sword; he grasps it firmly, approaches, leans his forehead
+on the panes of the wide gothic door--strange that the throbbing brain
+burst not its narrow bounds!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He sees nothing at first but fiery sparks and black spots from the
+seething of his heated brain. The long muslin draperies are sometimes
+lifted by the wind, and again close their veils of mist; the silver lamp
+flashes on his eyes for a moment, and again vanishes from his view; but,
+as his sight grows clearer, the great mirror with its frame of gold
+stands before him--necklaces, bracelets, and chains flash from the
+toilet before it. He trembles no longer, he ceases to make the sign of
+the cross, he sees distinctly now--under the floating flow of purple
+drapery the bride is sitting on the bed alone. The flowers thrown over
+her by the choir of singing bridesmaids still cluster on her hair and
+breast; her little feet are almost buried in the fallen rose leaves. She
+sighs as if utterly unconscious of herself, thoughtless of the pain she
+suffers--as if her life were only anguish! The flowers droop from her
+bosom and glide to the ground; and, as the violets, myrtles, and lilies
+fall over her dress of snow, the great tears roll slowly down her pallid
+cheeks with every deep-drawn sigh.
+
+The door creaks on its hinges, her arms are thrown up involuntarily, her
+neck is outstretched, like that of a frightened deer startled by the
+baying of the hounds. She listens, waits, hears something move, starts
+up, and flies into the depths of the chamber, seizes the floating
+curtains, wraps herself in the folds, unwinds them from about her, flies
+on, turns, starts, stops, then suddenly falling on her knees, cries
+aloud: 'THOU!' Her last hope is in that word, but all strength fails her
+now, and she stands fixed to the spot with rigid face and form of
+marble. Steps and voices, which had been heard a moment before, die away
+in the distance. He whom she had so passionately invoked stands before
+her; he presses her not to his heart, but she hears the whisper: 'I AM
+HERE!'
+
+She blooms into new life, and with a melancholy smile of wondrous
+sweetness, murmurs:
+
+'I knew, I knew thou wouldst be with me in this solemn hour. Dost thou
+curse me in thy heart? But hear me: no one approaches, we are alone, I
+may yet have time to tell thee all. When they led me to the church, I
+sought thee everywhere; when I kneeled before the altar, I could only
+seek thee with my soul, my eyes were too dim with tears for sight; and
+when, on my return to the castle--they felicitated me, I listened for
+thy voice to thunder o'er them all! And even here, where each moment was
+freighted with coming shame and anguish, my faith never left me. I sat
+in utter torpor, but my soul saw thee in thy flight across the distant
+hills, my heart felt thee as thou camest through the gardens and up the
+terraced way. What I divined is true, Give me thy hand--I am saved!
+saved!'
+
+Gracefully as the light sprays of the willow, she sways toward him, and
+trustfully leans on his strong arm.
+
+Who has ever felt in dreams his soul torn from hell, and borne by angels
+into heaven? Who has ever known what it was to be God's own child for a
+fleeting moment--felt the lightning flash of heaven-bliss gleam through
+his heart? He had expected to meet one faithless to her vows; but as the
+voice of simple truth and love thrills through his innermost being, he
+grows omnipotent, immortal. His youth only begins from this hour! it
+soars aloft--one wing is love, the other glory; his ashes shall be
+worthy to mingle with those of his fathers! He will return to his
+deserted comrades, and she, the beloved, will follow him, for does not
+she, now clinging in holy trust to his arm, seem willing to give into
+his hands the whole web of her future destiny? Its threads shall be of
+gold, and the sun of love shall shine ever upon it. Weave the brilliant
+mist in glittering woof, O glowing imagination of youth I Beautiful
+cloud-dreams, which the setting sun of life paints and flushes with his
+dying rays!
+
+But suddenly awaking from his fevered visions, he cries: 'Why hast thou
+set this ring on thy finger? Would it not have been far better to have
+sought refuge in the mountains, than to have bound thyself to another by
+the holy sacrament of marriage? Yet will I save thee, for my comrades
+are brave and obedient, and I am their leader!'
+
+'O God! thou questionest me about the Past, when not a single hour of
+the Present is our own! Dost thou still doubt me? Dost thou not
+comprehend me? I have plighted my troth to thee in truth, have sworn
+that thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. I will keep my
+vow. Thou doubtest me, and must hear all. Interrupt me not. Unsheathe
+thy sword; if they approach, I will throw myself into thy arms. When the
+time came to tell my father all, to bid him the last good by, he begged
+me sore, entreated me with many tears. Thou knowest with what a stern
+voice he is wont to command, how instantaneously he is accustomed to be
+obeyed; but he veiled the thunders of his wrath with tears, he sighed
+and wailed, saying that his only child was armed to strike him to the
+heart, to thrust him into the grave. The prince, the son-in-law of his
+choice, promised to take our name; he brought his serfs and retainers in
+crowds to the castle, and said to the old man: 'Lo, they shall all be
+thine!' Kneeling before me, my father placed my hand upon his silver
+hair; I felt the blood bounding and throbbing in his bare temples, and
+on his grand old forehead lay the dream of his whole life gasping in its
+death agonies. The cruel phantom of dominion and power, hateful to me,
+clutched me through the heart of the only parent I have ever known. His
+life or death was in my hands. A divine power swayed my soul; I resolved
+upon self-sacrifice. Consent quivered from my shrinking lips--I gave my
+trembling hand to the unknown, unloved, insupportable. Alas! all are
+alike abhorrent to me who speak not with thy voice, look not with thy
+eyes, breathe not with thy breath, love not with thy soul! The lord of
+the castle has now a son in place of his slight girl, and thousands of
+warriors stand ready to defend the old Home of our haughty race. Thus am
+I free, now may I take leave of all. Again I pledge to thee my faith;
+thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. But this people, this
+God, this plighted faith--knowest thou by what name it is called
+to-day?'
+
+The chieftain throws his arm round her slight form, and looking
+anxiously toward the gallery, says: 'Speak and tell me while it is yet
+time.'
+
+With low, reproachful tone, she answers: 'Can it be possible that thou
+dost not know? And yet there is no room for doubt--it is DEATH! So long
+as I remain on earth, I am the wife of the foreigner. Thou canst regain
+me only in the land of spirits; but the way is short--look! it is only
+the length of thy sword!'
+
+The word 'wife' falls from the soft lips like a stone on the heart of
+the chief, awakening him from the last dream he will ever dream on this
+earth. Yes. His sword would protect her from the pursuit of father and
+husband, but he cannot save her from the condemnation of the church, its
+excommunication; for what the priest of God has bound, that man may not
+unloose! It grows cold and dark in his sinking heart. A single moment of
+happiness, alas, now forever past! has robbed him of strength, of hope;
+he shivers with awe; he sees the long skeleton finger of the pale
+Phantom of Terror touch the young heart of the faithful maiden. But
+_that_ will be impossible--he cannot take her life--he will fly, and
+fall on the morrow with his braves in battle--she shall live--the
+loveliest of human forms shall still remain on earth. He groans, and
+breaks away from her--the walls seem crumbling before him, breaking into
+tears of blood--he flies--but his sister overtakes him at the
+threshold.
+
+'Where dost thou fly, unfaithful? Didst thou not come to release me?
+Wouldst thou brand me with dishonor--with infamy and shame? Betray me
+not. O God! canst thou think of deserting me now! Listen! The foreigner
+is already on his way to sully with his hot and pestilential breath the
+purity of thy beloved. And what would be my future fate shouldst thou
+deliver me into the hands of mine enemy, to his hated embraces? He will
+force me to the court of the King of the South. I must there bear my
+part amid strange faces, surrounded by falsehood and pride, and learn to
+smile on those I loathe. He will lead me to the court that he may boast
+of my beauty, that he may show his king he has gathered the pale flower
+of the ancient House. And what will be the course of the king, what that
+of the prince, my husband? Look at the old, and learn! They curse in old
+age what they worshipped in youth; they love what they once scorned.
+What has thus transformed them? Time. Time, the murderer, who in his
+reckless culture plants fresh roses on the ruined wall, will draw and
+thicken the veil of delusion over my face until my true features shall
+be stifled behind it. I shall be utterly alone--alone forever! Thou wilt
+be afar, on the mountains, rocks, or in the deserts; temptation will
+surround me, and disgust possess my soul. Thou mayst be brought in
+chains to the land of the King of the South, thine enemies may name me
+there over their beaded cups of ruby wine, jeers and scandals may reach
+thine ears, and thou wilt curse thyself that thou didst not kill me!
+Thrust thy sword into my heart! Tear me from the grasp of the monster!'
+
+As if in sudden madness, she wildly stretches out her hands as if to
+push away the thronging phantoms which appal her.
+
+'Look! his forehead sparkles--a word is written there in blazing
+diamonds--read it--it is INFAMY! Hell glitters in his eyes; his writhing
+arms are hissing vipers; they crawl to me, they touch me, wind around
+me, bury their heads in my bosom, and poison as they drink my pure blood
+from the virginal cup of my heart!'
+
+She falls exhausted on the floor, washing his feet with her tears as her
+long tresses stream around them.
+
+He lifts her like a feather from the ground.
+
+'By the Holy Mother of our Lord, such fate shall not be thine! Like the
+flame of incense burning on the sacred altar, purest among the pure,
+thou shalt ascend to God!'
+
+His heart breaks, his manly features flicker and quiver like the mist;
+strange spasms distort them; he bows his head in anguish, and with every
+tear from her eyes mingle the bitter drops only shed by man.
+
+But this is over now. It was the last sign of weakness, hesitation,
+regret, wrung from him in his mortal agony. A solemn calm rests on his
+broad brow as he presses the maiden to his heart.
+
+'With this kiss of peace I consecrate thee to a holy death! He who first
+breathed upon thy young cheek, first touched thy rosy lip, who may not
+give thee his name in the sanctity of marriage, who cannot save thee
+from condemnation--will give thee DEATH! In this thought I sought thee,
+my sister; but when I found thee faithful, loving, a sudden dream of
+bliss deceived me. Lulled by lovely visions, the weak one yielded to
+unmanly hopes, unmanly fears! Forgive him, virgin hero! Temptation and
+fear have fled forever--we will die together--let us pray!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Let us pray! but thou must remain to lead thy people. Longing, but
+patient, I will await thee in Hades. Thou wilt often come to the spot in
+which they will bury me, to throw a plume from thy helmet, a ring from
+thy coat of mail upon the grassy mound. And the old grave-digger will
+say: '_He_ was here to-night; she is still remembered by the chieftain.'
+
+With pure, confiding glance she reads his soul; her eyes sparkle through
+the mist of tears, and a faint smile writhes her pale young lips. With
+iron grasp he holds her to his heart.
+
+'With my _soul_ I wed thy _soul_ before the Great White Throne of God,
+our Judge!'
+
+In softer, sadder tone, he adds: 'While in my power, I served our people
+with my whole might. I have raised our white eagle on the castles of our
+enemies. To morrow my comrades will pass these walls--ah! thou dost not
+know, had I lived another day, whose gray hairs might have been
+scattered in the coming whirlwind, or in whose courts I might have been
+forced to take my seat as avenger! We will go hence together, my sister.
+And where we go, the old men will not desert their country, the young
+men will not be forced to dishonor the gray hairs of those who first
+taught them the meaning of patriotism and honor; _there_ treason and
+oppression are unknown--there will be no _necessary vengeance_ in the
+Land of the Hereafter! Let us go, sister!'
+
+Transfigured by a sublime exultation, she throws herself into the arms
+of the chieftain; words and tears are no longer sufficient to thank him;
+but love has taught her how it may be done. Suddenly drawing from her
+finger the glittering ring of the enemy, she moves rapidly to the head
+of the bridal bed, and places it upon the rich embroidery of the laced
+pillows. Then returning to the chief, she presses his hand to her heart:
+
+'Earth is past, and Heaven begun. Thou art henceforth my lord and master
+forever!'
+
+She kneels at his side, and begins to recite the prayers for the dying.
+He kneels beside her, sometimes reciting with her, sometimes wrapt in
+solemn silence. After a few moments, he breaks upon her prayers:
+
+'The morning twilight is upon us.'
+
+As he speaks, the little birds awake; their matin song sounds from the
+well-known grove.
+
+'Lean on my arm, beloved; let us look once more upon the earth we leave
+so soon together!'
+
+She leans heavily upon his arm, and they stand on the threshold of the
+door opening upon the gallery.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The fading moon dies out beyond the mountains; her last rays fall upon
+the turf of the terraced gardens; long wreaths of mist and vapor rise in
+the air like bridal veils, floating and reddening in the early dawn. In
+this fatal moment the luring promises and lovely images of life stand
+before her. The murmurs of the lulling fountains fall upon her ear, then
+flash upon her eye; the shafts and groups of pillars of her ancestral
+home cluster around her, and the summer flowers greet her with their
+perfume. But death, not life, is in her heart. The pathway through the
+old forest whitens in the coming light, the grain waves in the open
+fields; beyond them, faintly flushing in the twilight, stand the
+mountain tops above which _his_ star of glory might have risen that very
+morn--and yet the whole horizon to him now is but the grave of eternal
+forgetfulness! He gazes far into the mountains, boldly sending his last
+greetings to the faithful there; while she, with drooping head, presses
+ever closer to him, asking from him now the look of love, now the thrust
+of death! In vain the gradual awaking of the world admonishes them more
+and more loudly that they have nothing more to do with time, that
+eternity is upon them--they linger still! Who may say what thoughts are
+thronging through their souls! More and more heavily she sinks upon the
+true heart of her brother, while the morning breeze plays with the long
+tresses of her golden hair.
+
+Hark! loud voices pledge a noisy health in one of the distant rooms--he
+shudders, but perhaps she hears no longer; heavy footsteps tramp along
+the gallery--the light of torches flickers in the morning breeze.
+
+'O God, thou wilt surely give the victory to my country!' cries the
+chieftain, as he carries the benumbed and half-lifeless form of the
+bride within the wedding chamber.
+
+The drunken companions of the long revel reel and totter along the
+galleries of the castle; the bridegroom hastens to his bride with the
+dawn of day.
+
+'Look!' she exclaims, stretching out her hands to the great mirror
+before which they stand, but in her bewilderment no longer recognizing
+her own figure there: 'Look! how beautiful my angel is!'
+
+'Ah, too beautiful!' the youth repeats, with a bitter groan; then,
+pressing her to his breast with one arm, from the other flashes the
+deadly gleam of glittering steel--and in that very moment the heavy
+footsteps of the light-minded, reckless bridegroom reach the threshold
+of the bridal chamber.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+The old man sits upon the ancient bed of state, in the room which had
+been occupied by his father before him, in which his grandfathers and
+great-grandfathers had lived and died. Careless of repose for his tired
+and aged body, he has not undressed, but motioning off his attendants
+with impatient gesture, ungirding his sabre, and throwing off the chain
+of gold to which the royal medal was attached, his head sinks weariedly
+and sadly upon the oaken table before him. Beyond the bedstead, a gothic
+archway vaults through the wall into his private chapel, the antique
+lamp of gold still burns upon its altar. He turns not there, as is his
+custom, to say his prayers before he goes to rest--he knows no sleep
+to-night will close his heavy eyelids. Raising his head, he looks slowly
+round at the pictures of his ancestors hung about him; with their fixed,
+immovable pupils they return his gaze; but when he would again run round
+the circle of the faces of the dead, his eyelids fall, his sight is
+veiled by swimming tears.
+
+Have you ever thought, young men, sons of the growing light and lovers
+of the storm, how it must be in the souls of the old when all their
+plans of life fail, when their _last_ loves on earth are blighted? Ah,
+you cannot imagine this, you have not yet tasted the bitter gall of age!
+Willing slaves, Time bears you forward on his mighty wings, cleaving
+space with arrowy, unceasing motion, and though the stars die out behind
+you as he bears you on, yet new ones ever burst upon you as you advance.
+
+'On! on! the infinite is before us!' you cry as you fly. _But the old
+have no to-morrows!_ the coffin lies across their threshold, and but one
+single star shines down upon them. They kneel to it, and pray: 'Thou art
+pure and steadfast. Thou fallest not like the meteor bursting in the
+warm summer sky, nor settest like the moon in the far-off lakes of
+youth. After our long and restless journey, we bask in thy serene light.
+Be faithful to us, shine benignly upon us, that our House may live, that
+our descendants may enjoy the earth!'
+
+But even while they pray, the _truth_ creeps into their courtyards,
+glides like a serpent on their castle walls, writhes over the threshold,
+and, seating herself upon a coffin, chants the death song of delusion,
+and as she sings, the last star falls from the sky, and eternal night
+becomes the name of the world.
+
+Behold! No glittering haze or golden woof remains in the hands of the
+old man from the dying glow of his long Indian summer. Hearken! his
+daughter's tears are falling fast on the burning embers of his soul. The
+laughter of the careless husband blasts his ear. He starts from the bed,
+stalking up and down the room with rapid strides. The snows of seventy
+winters have in vain blanched his head; he has been proud of his
+accumulated wisdom, but has not divined the secret of life! The
+whirlpool of terror, vengeance, vacillation, resolution, engulfs him in
+its giddy flow; his soul is on the wheel of torture, his old heart
+throbs on the rack of passion. He curses the King of the South--the
+prince, his son-in-law--himself; but his heart will not break until a
+new day dawns upon the earth!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Completely worn out at last with his restless striding to and fro, he
+falls into the old state chair with its broidered blazonry and gilt
+escutcheons. His arms hang loosely at his side, his legs fall listlessly
+down, his wide open eye is fixed unconsciously on the opposite wall; his
+lips are motionless, and yet the tones of his own voice are ringing
+through his ears; he lies in immovable and rigid torpor, and yet it
+seems to himself that he is rapidly traversing the long galleries of the
+castle. He enters the hall of feasting, sees the prince seated among the
+throng of revellers, to whom he hears himself cry: 'Away! away, prince,
+from an alien soil! My ancestors have risen from the grave to drive thee
+hence! Black hetman man, long since buried, strike the foaming cup from
+his reckless hands! Roman cardinal, dying in sanctity, pronounce upon
+him the thunders of excommunication, and let the church divorce him from
+the daughter of our line!'
+
+The great doors are thrown open, the muffled steps of the dead are heard
+as they advance from their graves in the Chapel of the Castle, and the
+spirits evoked glide solemnly in. The bridegroom, seizing his sword with
+one hand, and lifting the cup to his lips with the other, drinks gayly
+to the health of the illustrious dead! The old man looks round for a
+sword, strives to reach the bright blade hanging on the distant wall,
+prays to God to help him to grasp it more speedily, falls to the floor,
+drags himself forward on his knees until he meets the Roman cardinal,
+whose scarlet robes are bleached and dim with the damp, mould, and
+stains of the grave. The church dignitary, laying his icy hand upon his
+forehead, says:
+
+'_What the holy priest of God has joined together, that may man not put
+asunder!_'
+
+The dead vanish, the hall of festival is riven in twain, the walls
+crumble, he sees himself again in his own chamber, sleeping in the
+escutcheoned chair of his ancestors. Silence, horror, and remorse are
+around him--and at this moment the great clock of the palatines strikes
+two!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Horrible and still more horrible grows the vision. The lamp is still
+burning in bluish flame, sending a mystic light through the vaulted
+archway of the chapel beyond the state bed. 0 God! a white figure kneels
+and groans upon the steps of the altar, then, drawing back, approaches
+his chair; her bands are meekly crossed upon her breast; like the marble
+drapery of a statue, her robe falls in countless snowy folds, none of
+which are broken in the onward-gliding motion of the shrouded form. O
+God! he knows that lovely face, he has loved it well; it is the sweet
+countenance of his young wife: the lips open, but the voice is not as of
+old, tender and confiding; it is reproachful--commanding. He tries to
+answer, but cannot force a word through his eager lips; he cannot
+stretch forth his hand to greet her, but feels himself forced to follow
+her wheresoever she may choose to lead him. Down, down through the dark
+and narrow vaults of the castle, through the sepulchre where she was
+buried, passing by her own coffin without stopping, up through the old
+armory, through coats of mail, helmets, and swords, on--on--she reaches
+the western tower--passes through the treasury--ascends the
+staircase--bolts draw, and locked doors, like silent lips, open
+noiselessly before. She beckons the old man on--on, to the arched door,
+up to the loophole in the wall looking into the bridal chamber of the
+ladies of the castle--there the dead form stops, and beckons him to draw
+near and look within.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+O God! close by the wedding bed and before the great mirror, he sees his
+daughter in the arms of an armed man; he knows the flashing eye and
+broad brow of the exile; he hears her familiar voice, sweet, sonorous,
+and penetrating as the tones of the harmonica. A glittering blade is in
+the hand of the man; his daughter speaks in clear, full tones:
+
+'Strike! strike boldly! it is not thou who dealest the blow--my father
+has already killed me!' She rises to meet the stroke of the keen steel
+of the chieftain, as if she welcomed a deliverer. The old man tries to
+tear asunder the loophole with his hands, but the cold granite does not
+move--then it seems to him he falls upon his knees, and shouts to his
+kinsman:
+
+'Stop thy rash hand! I will give her to thee as wife. I will fight with
+thee the King of the South; do not kill her, my good daughter, my only
+child!'
+
+They hear him not; a darkish light is creeping along the walls, the
+lamps are dying out, loud talking is heard on the gallery, the
+half-drunken bridegroom comes leaping and reeling on, rushes into the
+chamber, suddenly seems transfixed to the floor, puts his hand to his
+sword, but not finding it at his side, looks back, calls aloud, but no
+one follows him. Horror, like living death, paralyzes the old man. The
+bridegroom throws himself upon the exile, who exclaims solemnly, as he
+thrusts him aside:
+
+'Why do you profane the peace of the dead?'
+
+Something glitters--flashes through the air--once--twice--thrice--a
+faint cry--the lamps die out one after the other--a single one still
+burns over the great mirror, and by its flickering light the old man
+sees the figures of the armed man and the snowy maiden, drenched in
+gore, reel, totter, heave, whirl in strange confusion--grow to enormous
+height, mount, sink, fall. At this very moment the great clock of the
+palatines strikes three--and awakes the old man in the sleeping chamber
+of his ancestors, stretched at the foot of the escutcheoned chair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His attendants, hearing a noise, throng into his room with hurrying
+steps and flaming torches; they find their lord lying prostrate on the
+floor with bleeding hands and agitated air. He starts to his feet,
+crying:
+
+'Save my child! Kill my brother's son!' They crowd around him. 'Is it
+still night, or does the day _really_ dawn?'
+
+He staggers to the oaken table, seizes his sword, draws it from the
+sheath; the handle turns in his trembling hands, the blade falls to the
+ground; again he grasps it, while great tears rain down from his haggard
+eyes. The attendants cluster round him, kneel before him, and entreat
+him to tell them clearly what he would have them do.
+
+'Follow me! follow me!' he pants in broken voice. He hurries to the
+door, half borne on by his people; passes along the corridor, wrestling
+with faintness and giddiness as a strong swimmer battles with the waves.
+The attendants gaze from one to the other, making the sign of the cross.
+
+The swooning and delirium of the old man over, the retainers follow him
+as he totters on to the wedding chamber. Profound repose seems to rest
+upon the castle; through the wide range of open double doors the grand
+saloon of festival is clearly seen; the tables are deserted, and the
+lights dying in their sockets. The morning twilight is already stealing
+in through the open windows. Strange! the pages bearing the torches
+before the old lord come to a sudden halt; a man runs toward them round
+the sharp angle of the gallery; his hair is in confusion, his robe
+soiled and torn; no dagger in his belt nor sword at his side; his lips
+are blue and shivering, his brow pallid; he looks as if Death were
+breathing on him as he passed, and he fled in terror from the fleshless
+phantom.
+
+'The father must not advance another step;' and stretching his arms
+toward the old man, he seizes one of his hands.
+
+'Where is thy wife? Speak, and tell me!'
+
+The bridegroom kneels before him: 'Stop, father; go back to thine own
+chamber; waken not thy sleeping daughter so early.'
+
+'Thou sayest: 'Awake her not.' Will she _ever_ again waken? Speak
+quickly. Tell me the naked truth, for evil spirits filled my sleep with
+dreams of terror. I saw her pleading for death, but thou wast unarmed as
+now; and another stood near, who murdered the child I gave thee. Speak!
+Was this all a horrid dream, a fearful jest of the summer's night to
+appal my soul?'
+
+The bridegroom bows his head under the unendurable weight of this
+question. He shudders, and with lifted hand tries to turn the old man
+back.
+
+'Ha! thou darest not speak--thou art silent, I know it all now. God
+punishes me because I have bowed to thy king, and sought alliance with
+thy craven blood, alien as thou art!'
+
+The window panes rattle as the wild cry echoes from the old man's
+quivering lips; all present tremble at the voice of his despair. He
+seizes his sword with both his hands, and while it trembles in his
+grasp, continues:
+
+'Art thou still silent? My fathers were the enemies of thine; had I a
+son, he would have been thy deadly foe. I had an only daughter--I gave
+her to thee--she too is gone--take all--there is no one to care for
+now--the inheritance is also thine.'
+
+The sword rattles in his hands, the blade falls from his grasp, as he
+strikes it against the pillar near him. The bridegroom starts forward
+and endeavors to stay the old man. The old man pushes him off, they
+wrestle in their bewilderment, and struggle like wild beasts. Despair
+nerves the aged arms with iron strength. Young and agile as he is, the
+bridegroom feels the hands of his adversary pressing heavily upon his
+shoulders, he bends under the weight, the old man hurls him to the
+ground, and, no longer requiring aid from others, strides over the
+prostrate body. He stalks on with flashing, burning eyes, his gigantic
+shadow striding with him on the wall, his wide robes floating on the
+wind, his white hair streaming, his form winged with the courage of
+despair. The retainers follow, the vaulted ceilings echoing back the
+sharp gride of their footsteps. Only one lighted saloon now lies between
+them and the chamber of the ladies of the castle. The double door at the
+other end is thrown wide open, the walls and windows of the wedding
+chamber are crimsoning with the early hues of day, silence and solitude
+pervade them, nothing falls upon the air save the twitter of the birds
+and the murmur of the fountains. The old man rushes on directly to the
+open door and toward the reddening east.
+
+He reaches the threshold, and the immense red face of the just risen sun
+dazzles his eyes. Is it the bloody Heart of God he sees pulsating
+through the universe? Blinded for a moment, he staggers on at random,
+when suddenly he sees the floor is red with blood. The dreadful phantoms
+of the night are again around him, no longer floating in misty visions,
+but glaring fixed before him in the stern light of dread reality. In the
+fierce blaze of its pitiless rays, he sees the dead body of his
+brother's son; the bloody form of his only child, his good daughter,
+lies pale at his feet. Like a drowning man he gasps for breath, beats
+the air wildly around him, as if trying to rescue himself from this hell
+of spectres. Then he stands motionless, as if transfixed to the spot.
+Awakened by the noise and rumor, guests, feudal retainers, servants, and
+attendants rush to the spot, each in turn to be terror-stricken at the
+threshold, to move within awed and silent. All eyes wander from the old
+lord of the castle to the stiffening corpses at his feet. They lie
+together now! The left arm of the exile is round the neck of his sister;
+her head rests on his armed bosom just above the spot where the sword
+still remains plunged in his breast; his right hand has fallen beside
+it. There was no one near to close their dying eyelids, the pupils
+glitter glassily in the whitening light of the ascending sun, and the
+blood which is everywhere around, on the bridal bed, on the coat of mail
+of the young chieftain, on the white robes and snowy bosom of the bride,
+already congeals into dark pools or crimson corals. Above this cooling
+stream their features rest in marble peace--a faint smile is on the lips
+of the young bride--while a passing thought of warlike glory still beams
+from the broad, pallid brow of the young hero. So tranquil their repose,
+the agonies of death must have seemed light to them, lost in the
+ecstasies of faithful spirits.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The old man continues to stand as he first stood--no groan escapes his
+lips, no shuddering shakes his frame. The new comers press those already
+present forward, but all breaths are hushed, hands are fixed steadily on
+sword hilts that they may not rattle, all sound is stilled--they stand
+in awe of that dreadful moment when their lord shall awake from his
+torpor, and turn to them his face of woe. How will they bear the anguish
+written there? despair without a ray of hope!
+
+O God! what a miracle! He turns toward them, greets them imperiously but
+courteously, as was his wont, as if, absorbed in thought and doubtful of
+the dire reality before him, he was trying to ascertain its truth. Fever
+burns in his eye and flames upon his wrinkled cheek.
+
+'Hungarian wine!' he cries.' I will drink to the health of my fellow
+citizens.'
+
+No one moves, the bystanders seem turning to stone.
+
+'Haste! This blood must be washed away before my daughter returns to her
+chamber. Haste, I say!'
+
+None move, all eyes are cast down; they cannot bear the strange light in
+his wandering glances.
+
+'Ah! do you not know we are all dreaming? My sleep is torpid, stubborn,
+accursed, but the dawn is here, and I must soon awake!'
+
+So saying he moves out upon the gallery, where suddenly a new thought
+appears to strike him; he leans over the marble balustrade, looks to the
+right and left, then exclaims:
+
+'Guests, we will go out to seek the young betrothed; it is strange they
+should have gone out to walk so early!'
+
+He descends the vaulted stairway by which his nephew had ascended but a
+short time before. He stoops at the foot of the hill, picks some roses,
+murmuring:
+
+'For my good child. Move silently, friends, she loved this bower of
+jessamines; we will surprise her here, and be the first to say good
+morning to the bride.'
+
+With drooping heads his guests follow his steps as he glides along under
+the sad firs and stately pines. Pathways stretch before them, leading
+into forest depths and over mossy banks, or climbing hillsides laden
+with vines. The old man often calls his daughter loudly by her name; the
+laughing echoes answer mockingly; the followers burst into tears.
+Striking his forehead suddenly and violently with his hands, he cries:
+
+'The dream! the nightmare! Why should it look to me so like truth? When
+will the _true_ sun rise upon me?' Then he rushes to a sturdy pine,
+embraces its rough trunk with both his arms, strikes his head against
+it: 'Awake me, thou hard bark--awake me from this dreadful dream!'
+Turning back, he seizes one of the nearest of his followers by the
+throat, crying: 'Wrestle with thy lord, thou phantom of a servant, and
+wake him from his dream accursed!'
+
+The frightened servant slips away and flees. The old man sighs, raises
+his eyes to heaven, an expression of submission to a divinely appointed
+torment shines for a moment upon his quivering features, as if he humbly
+offered to God the tortures of this cruel dream in penance for his sins.
+He walks on calmly for a while, then says:
+
+'The bride is certainly on the lake; we will find her there.'
+
+The sun is fully up now, drinking the dews from the leaves, and lighting
+up the waves of the lake with splendor. Large beaked boats with heraldic
+banners are rocking in the coves. Fastening the roses he had gathered
+for his child in his bosom, he walks to the shore, with fever burning
+more and more vividly in his face. No one ventures to suggest a return
+to the castle. Accustomed to obey the unbending will of their lord, they
+still pay homage to it, though it is no longer a thing of this world.
+Dark as midnight seems the day dawn to them; their own brains seem
+seething into madness.
+
+'Perhaps she sails in one of her own light boats round the lake with her
+husband; she may be behind the fringe of willows, or among the little
+islands. Hallo! six of you take the oars; we will soon find her.'
+
+They obey, he seats himself within, they push from shore.
+
+'Why do you breathe so hard and look so weary to-day; is the water
+heavier than of old?'
+
+They answer not, but row more rapidly. The larger boats are filled with
+guests and retainers; many follow the old lord, many remain on shore
+from lack of room. One after another the islets fly behind and hide
+themselves from view, with their circling wreaths of reeds and sedges.
+Rocks and bowlders are scattered over many of them, once sacrificial
+altars of old and cruel gods, now draped with hanging weeds and trailing
+mosses. Flocks of wild birds are startled up as the boats draw near
+them, frightened by the noise and plashing of the oars. Black clouds of
+them hang over the boat of the old man at every turn among the labyrinth
+of islands. He claps his hands:
+
+'Here! we will surely find her here!' And when nothing is there to be
+seen, he asks the winds: 'Where is my child--my good and beautiful
+child?'
+
+Having sailed round and round the whole group of islands, he orders them
+to row out into the middle of the lake, and then make for the other
+shore. He sinks into silence now; he leaves the helm, throwing himself
+suddenly down into the boat, while a ghastly pallor settles on his
+venerable face. He stretches his hand into the water, dives into it with
+his arm, listens to the rippling of the waves, then bursts into a loud
+scream of wild laughter. The oarsmen stop, in hopes he will order the
+boat to return to shore. He does not speak, but rises up and looks,
+first back at the boats following after, then at the mountains, the
+plains, the forests, the gardens, the ancestral castle. Constantly
+striking his palms together or rubbing his head with his hand, he
+exclaims:
+
+'Who will waken me? I dream! I dream! I must, I will awake!'
+
+The oarsmen shudder. Then, collecting his whole remaining force, he
+flings himself violently into the depths. Three of the men instantly
+plunge in after him; those in the boats hasten to the rescue. Having
+seen what had happened, they gaze upon the spot where the whirling,
+whistling waves were closing over the old lord and his faithful
+servants. The bold divers reappear, bearing in their arms the castle's
+lord. Under the heraldic banner they lay the last heir of the haughty
+House. In vain they try to resuscitate the venerable form; the dream is
+over now, but the mortal life remains under the blue waves of the
+ancestral lake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The foreign prince inherits the ancient castle with all its treasures,
+the glories of the honored name, the entire Past of a noble race. He
+buries the bodies of his virgin wife and haughty father-in-law with
+funereal pomp and honor; but orders the corpse of the exile to be
+roughly thrown into unhallowed ground. In the very hall in which he had
+spent the first night of his bridal, surrounded by gay revellers,
+pledging full cups of ruby wine, with light jests flying from reckless
+lip to lip--he spreads, with the same comrades, the solemn Feast of the
+Dead. When the next dawn breaks upon them, mounting their vigorous
+steeds, they all ride back to the court of the King of the South. The
+king rejoices in his heart, giving thanks to the Fates that his leal
+subject has inherited vast wealth, and that the alien family, powerful
+through so many centuries, is extinct forever.
+
+In the clefts of the mountains they remember and honor the young
+chieftain, whose body had been thrown into unhallowed ground. They know
+that his dishonored grave lies on that side of the castle through which
+will pass their path to victory; and they will plant the cross of
+glorious memories upon it as they march to the assault to drive the
+foreigner from the Home of his loyal ancestors. Eagles and vultures, led
+by some mystic instinct, are often seen to fly from the mountains to the
+towers and turrets of the castle. It is certain that in some not distant
+day the comrades of the chieftain will pour with resistless strength
+into its doomed walls.... Let another chant to you the Hymn of victory;
+I have sung the Dirge of agony!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Unhappy maiden! thou vanishest like a thought which cannot shape itself
+in any language known on earth, a dream of early love! Thou wouldst not
+lose thy snowy wings, and they bear thee on the whirlwind's track, where
+the mists fly, the clouds sail, the sound of harps dies, the leaves of
+autumn drift, the breath of sighs vanishes! Martyr to thine own dream of
+plighted faith, they bury thy fair form in ancestral earth; perchance
+the sculptured marble presses on thy faultless brow, for on its snow
+they grave the hated foreign name borne by thy alien husband! But the
+grass and wild flowers will soon grow unheeded around it, and in the
+green and flourishing world of the ever vanishing, thy name is never
+spoken.
+
+On the very morning of thy death, the seven old men to whom obedience
+was commanded by the chieftain, curse thee because thou borest away with
+thee the soul of their hero. In their addresses to the people, with
+scorn and scoff upon their lips, they sneer and call thee 'WOMAN;' but
+the people weep, and pray: Lord Christ, Son of the Virgin, give to the
+maiden ETERNAL PEACE!
+
+
+
+
+THE ENGLISH PRESS.
+
+III.
+
+
+We have seen that the tone of the newspapers had of late years greatly
+improved. Men of eminence and great intellectual attainments were to be
+found among the contributors to the various journals, and what is much
+more important--for this was pre-eminently the age of bribery and
+corruption--men of honesty and integrity. Still there was a large class
+of venal hirelings in the pay of the Government. These were described by
+Mr. Pulteney as 'a herd of wretches whom neither information can
+enlighten nor affluence elevate.' He further expresses his conviction
+that 'if their patrons would read their writings, their salaries would
+be quickly withdrawn, for a few pages would convince them that they can
+neither attack nor defend, neither raise any man's reputation by their
+panegyrics, nor destroy it by their defamation.' Sir Robert Walpole,
+who, as has been already stated, expended enormous sums in bribes to
+public writers, however expedient he may have thought it to retain their
+services, does not appear to have attached much importance personally to
+the writers either for or against him, at least if we may put faith in
+his own words. On one occasion he said: 'I have never discovered any
+reason to exalt the authors who write against the Administration to a
+higher degree of reputation than their opponents;' and on another, 'Nor
+do I often read the papers of either party, except when I am informed by
+some, who have more inclination to such studies than myself, that they
+have risen by some accident above their common level.'
+
+Among the first rank of newspaper writers at this period must be placed
+the undying name of Henry Fielding, whose connection with journalism
+originated in his becoming, in 1739, editor and part owner of the
+_Champion_, a tri-weekly periodical of the _Spectator_ stamp, with a
+compendium of the chief news of the day in addition. The rebellion of
+1745, like every other topic of absorbing interest, became the parent of
+a great many news sheets, the chief of which was probably the _National
+Journal, or County Gazette_, inasmuch as it called forth a Government
+prosecution, and procured six months' imprisonment for its printer. In
+opposition to the Jacobite journals, several newspapers were started in
+the interest of the Government. Fielding brought out the _True Patriot_,
+in 1745, and proved no mean antagonist for the sympathizers with the
+banished Stuarts. In the prospectus issued with his first number, he has
+some rather unpleasant things to say of his literary brethren:
+
+'The first little imperfection in these writings is that there is scarce
+a syllable of truth in any of them. If this be admitted to be a fault,
+it requires no other evidence than themselves and the perpetual
+contradictions which occur, not only on comparing one with the other,
+but the same author with himself on different days. Secondly, there is
+no sense in them. To prove this likewise, I appeal to their works.
+Thirdly, there is in reality nothing in them at all. And this also must
+be allowed by their readers, if paragraphs, which contain neither wit,
+nor humor, nor sense, nor the least importance, may be properly said to
+contain nothing.... Nor will this appear strange if we consider who are
+the authors of such tracts--namely, the journeymen of booksellers, of
+whom, I believe, much the same may be truly predicated as of these
+their productions. But the encouragement with which these lucubrations
+are read may seem most strange and more difficult to be accounted for.
+And here I cannot agree with my bookseller that their eminent badness
+recommends them. The true reason is, I believe, the same which I once
+heard an economist assign for the content and satisfaction with which
+his family drank water-cider--viz., because they could procure no better
+liquor. Indeed, I make no doubt but that the understanding as well as
+the palate, though it may out of necessity swallow the worse, will, in
+general, prefer the better.'
+
+These sarcasms are probably not much overcolored, for, with one or two
+exceptions, newspapers had sunk to a very low state indeed, and this may
+be looked upon as one of the most degraded periods in the history of
+journalism with which we have had to deal, or shall hereafter have to
+encounter. The _Champion_, of course, was intended to be 'the better.'
+It did not, however, meet with any very great success, but still with
+enough to encourage Fielding in his attacks. In 1747 he dealt another
+heavy blow at the Jacobites, by commencing the _Jacobite Journal_, in
+which they were most mercilessly ridiculed and satirized. His opponents
+replied as best they could, but they were not masters of the keen and
+polished weapons which the great novelist wielded, and they were
+therefore obliged to content themselves with venomous spite and abuse.
+The ablest of these antagonists was a newspaper entitled _Old England,
+or the Constitutional Journal_, an infamous and scurrilous publication,
+to which, however, the elegant Lord Chesterfield did not think it
+derogatory to contribute. Among other celebrities who were associated
+with the press at this time, we find Lord Lyttelton, Bonnell
+Thornton--the author of the _Connoisseur_, an essay paper, which, though
+inferior to the _Spectator_ and _Tatler_, may be read with great
+pleasure and profit, even at the present time--the famous Beckford,
+Edward Moore, and Arthur Murphy. This last started the _Test_, a journal
+devoted to the demolition of Pitt, but which called forth an opponent of
+no mean pretensions, under the name of the _Con-Test_, for then, as now,
+as it always has been, and always will be, a good and taking title
+produced a host of imitations and piracies. In spite, however, of
+Murphy's great talents and its first blush of success, the _Test_ soon
+began to languish, and died of atrophy, after a brief existence of some
+eight or nine months. One of the most formidable anti-ministerialist
+papers which, had hitherto appeared, was the _Monitor_. It came out upon
+the accession of George III., and was especially occupied in attacking
+Lord Bute, the young monarch's chief minister and favorite. Its editor
+was John Entick, who is best known as the author of a dictionary, which
+was largely used in the schooldays of the last generation, and is still
+occasionally to be met with in old-fashioned families and out-of-the-way
+corners of the world. This _Monitor_ was as terrible to the marquis as
+another more modern Monitor was to the Merrimac, and the Scotch minion
+was compelled to bestir himself. He called in to his aid Bubb
+Doddington, who, during the lifetime of the preceding king, had done
+good service for the party of the Prince of Wales, in a journal styled
+the _Remembrancer_, and they, in conjunction with Smollett as editor,
+brought out the _Briton_ in 1762. It was but a weakly specimen of a
+Briton from the very first. There were many causes which contributed to
+its downfall. Scotchmen were regarded throughout the nation with
+feelings of thorough detestation, and Smollett had made for himself many
+bitter enemies, of men who had formerly been his friends, by his
+acceptance of this employment. It was the hand of a quondam friend that
+dealt his paper the _coup-de-grace_, none other in fact than John
+Wilkes, who had started the _North Briton_ in opposition to Smollett.
+The _Briton_ expired on the 12th of February, 1763, and upon the 23d of
+April, in the same year, appeared the never-to-be-forgotten No. 45 of
+the _North Briton_. The circumstances connected with this famous
+_brochure_, and the consequences which followed upon its appearance, are
+so well known, that it will not be necessary to proceed to any great
+length in describing its incidents. This said No. 45 initiated a great
+fight, in which both sides committed several mistakes, won several
+victories, and sustained several defeats. Wilkes undoubtedly got the
+worst of it at first, but his discomfiture was set off by many
+compensations in different ways, which his long struggle procured for
+him. The obnoxious article, boldly assuming the responsibility of
+ministers for the king's speech--for Wilkes always asserted that he had
+the highest respect for the king himself--practically charged them with
+falsehood. Upon this they issued a general warrant for the apprehension
+of all the authors, printers, and publishers of the _North Briton_.
+Wilkes was seized and thrown into the Tower, where he was kept for four
+days, all access of friends and legal advisers being denied to him. At
+the end of that period he was brought before the Court of Common Pleas
+upon a writ of _habeas corpus_. Three points were raised in his favor,
+namely, whether the warrant was legal, whether the particular passage in
+the libel complained of ought not to have been specified, and whether
+his privileges as a member of Parliament did not protect him from
+arrest. The celebrated Lord Camden, then Chief Justice Pratt, presided,
+and ruled against Wilkes on the first two points, but discharged him
+from custody on the third. Wilkes hereupon reprinted the article. Both
+Houses of Parliament now took up the cudgels in behalf of the
+Government, and resolved that privilege of Parliament did not extend to
+arrest for libel. The House of Commons also resolved 'that the _North
+Briton_, No. 45, is a false, scandalous, and seditious libel, containing
+expressions of the most unexampled insolence and contumely toward his
+Majesty, the grossest expressions against both Houses of Parliament, and
+the most audacious defiance of the authority of the whole legislature,
+and most manifestly tending to alienate the affections of the people
+from his Majesty, to withdraw them from their obedience to the laws of
+the realm, and to excite them to traitorous insurrection against his
+Majesty's Government.' They also ordered the libel to be publicly burned
+by the common hangman, in front of the Royal Exchange. The authorities
+attempted to carry out this order, but an enormous mob assembled, drove
+off the officers, rescued the journal from the flames, and, in revenge,
+built a huge bonfire at Temple Bar, into which they threw the jackboot,
+the favorite emblem for expressing the public dislike of Lord Bute. It
+was now Wilkes's turn, and he brought an action in the following year
+against the under secretary of state, for the illegal seizure of his
+papers. Judge Pratt summed up in his favor, directing the jury that
+general warrants were 'unconstitutional, illegal, and altogether void.'
+As being the instrument in eliciting this memorable exposition of the
+laws, Wilkes deserves the gratitude of every Englishman who cares one
+jot for his constitutional rights, and of every lover of freedom
+throughout the world. He was not without immediate and substantial
+rewards, for the jury found a verdict for him, with £1,000 damages. The
+corporation of the city of London, who had taken his part throughout,
+eventually chose him sheriff, lord mayor, and chamberlain, and presented
+the lord chief justice with the freedom of the city, in token of their
+admiration for his conduct. On the other hand, Wilkes was expelled the
+House of Commons, on account of the libel, and on the very same day
+which witnessed his triumph in the Court of Common Pleas, he was tried
+in the Court of the King's Bench, for its republication, and found
+guilty. He refused to surrender to judgment, and was accordingly
+outlawed. He then proceeded to the Continent, from whence, some three or
+four years later, he addressed a petition to the king for a pardon. As
+no notice was taken of this, he returned to England, and paid a fine of
+£500, his outlawry being reversed. He next petitioned the House of
+Commons for readmission; but his petition was rejected, and a new writ
+issued, when he was returned by an overwhelming majority. The House
+expelled him again, and this farce of expulsion and reëlection was
+enacted four distinct times, until at last his election was declared
+null and void. He subsequently brought an action against Lord Halifax
+for illegal imprisonment and the seizure of his papers, and obtained
+£4,000 damages. He lived several years after this, but took no prominent
+part in political affairs, confining his energies to the sphere of the
+city. While he was in exile at Paris he published an account of his
+trial, etc., but, as he was unfortunate in his defenders, so was he in
+his adversaries. The writings of his friend and coadjutor, Charles
+Churchill, the clever writer, but disreputable divine, are wellnigh, if
+not entirely, forgotten, but the undying pencil of the immortal Hogarth
+will forever hold him up to the gaze of remote posterity. Whatever may
+be the feeling as to his political opinions, and however great may be
+our gratitude to him in one particular instance, his authorship of the
+abominable and filthy 'Essay upon Women'--which, by the way, formed one
+count in the indictment against him at his trial in the King's
+Bench--will always earn for him the execration of mankind. The success
+of Wilkes in his action against the secretary of state, was the signal
+for a host of other authors, printers, and publishers, who had been
+similarly attacked, to bring similar actions. They generally obtained
+heavy damages, and ministers learned a lesson of caution which they did
+not soon forget.
+
+But while they persecuted the opposition scribes, ministers did not
+forget to reward those writers who advocated the cause of the
+Government. Men who had failed in all kinds of professions and
+employments, turned their attention to political literature, and, as far
+as emolument was concerned, met with great success, for although the
+talent was all on one side, the profit was all on the other. Among the
+chief of these fortunate scribblers was Dr. Francis, the father of the
+celebrated Sir Philip, Dr. Shebbrart, Hugh Kelly, and Arthur Murphy.
+
+We now arrive at another most memorable period in newspaper history--the
+appearance of the Letters of Junius. The interest in the discovery of
+the source of these withering diatribes has been almost as great as in
+that of the Nile, but, unlike that 'frightened and fugitive' river,
+their origin will probably never be discovered with any certainty. A
+neat little library might be formed of the books and pamphlets that have
+been written upon this 'vexed question,' and the name of every man that
+was at all eminent at the time of their publication--and of a great many
+too that were by no means eminent--has been at some time or other
+suggested as the author. This controversy may be looked upon as a sort
+of literary volcano, which every now and then becoming suddenly active,
+after a period of quiescence of longer or shorter duration, sends forth
+great clouds of smoke--but nothing else; and then all things remain once
+more in _statu quo_. Our space will not permit us to make any remark
+upon the matter, further than to express an opinion that the
+preponderance of evidence appears to be in favor of Sir Philip
+Francis--the untiring, unscrupulous bloodhound who hunted down Warren
+Hastings--having been the author. The first of these famous letters
+appeared in the _Public Advertiser_, of April 28, 1767; the last of a
+stalwart family of sixty-nine, on January 21, 1772. Let Burke testify to
+their tremendous power. To the House of Commons he said: 'He made you
+his quarry, and you still bleed from the wounds of his talons. You
+crouched, and still crouch beneath his rage.' To the speaker he said:
+'Nor has he dreaded the terrors of your brow, sir; he has attacked even
+you--he has--and I believe you have no reason to triumph in the
+encounter.' And again: 'Kings, lords, and commons are but the sport of
+his fury.' Speaking of the 'Letter to the king,' Burke said: 'It was the
+rancor and venom with which I was struck. In these respects the _North
+Briton_ is as much inferior to him as in strength, wit, and judgment.'
+The Government tried every means in their power to discover the author,
+but in vain. Woodfall, the proprietor of the _Public Advertiser_, knew
+or professed to know nothing about it, asserting that the letters were
+found in his box from time to time, but how they came there he could not
+tell. Let it suffice us to know that they admirably served the purpose
+for which they were written, viz., to defeat tyranny, and to defend
+freedom; that they are still allowed to rank as the greatest political
+essays that were ever written; and that Junius, whoever he was, will
+always be gratefully remembered among us, so long as we continue to
+display that watchful jealousy in the preservation of our liberties
+which has hitherto ever characterized us as a nation.
+
+The Government prosecuted several newspaper proprietors and printers for
+publishing these letters, and more especially that addressed to the
+king. Among others who were brought to trial were Woodfall himself; John
+Almon, of the _London Museum_; Miller, of the _London Evening Post_;
+Baldwin, of the _St. James's Chronicle_; Say, of the _Gazetteer_, and
+Robinson, of the _Independent Chronicle_. Almon was, however, the only
+one who was punished. The jury consisted of Government employés,
+carefully selected, and of course brought in a verdict adverse to him.
+Almon was fined and ordered to find substantial bail for his future good
+behavior.
+
+The _Public Advertiser_ was a joint-stock concern, chiefly in the hands
+of the booksellers, among whom we find names which are still famous in
+Paternoster Row, such as Longman, Cadell, Rivington, and Strahan.
+Woodfall's ledger supplies us with the following information as to the
+expenses of getting it up, some of the items being sufficiently curious:
+
+                                            £  s. d.
+
+Paid translating foreign news, etc.,       100  0  0
+Foreign newspapers,                         14  0  0
+Foy, at 2s. a day,                          31  4  0
+Lloyd's coffee house for post news          12  0  0
+Home news, as per receipts and incidents,  282  4 11-1/2
+List of sheriffs,                              10  6
+Plantation, Irish, and Scotch news,         50  0  0
+Portsmouth letter,                           8  5  0
+Stocks,                                      3  3  0
+Porterage to the stamp office,              10  8  0
+Recorder's clerk,                            1  1  0
+Sir John Fielding,                          50  0  0
+Delivering papers fifty-two weeks,
+  at £1 4s. per week,                       62  8  0
+Clerk, and to collect debts,                30  0  0
+Setting up extra advertisements,            31 10  0
+A person to go daily to fetch
+  in advertisements, getting
+  evening papers, etc.,                     15 15  0
+Morning and evening papers,                 26  8  9-1/2
+Price of hay and straw, Whitechapel,         1  6  0
+Mr. Green for port entries,                 31 10  0
+Law charges, Mr. Holloway,                   6  7  5
+Bad debts,                                  18  3  6
+                                          ----------
+                                          £796 15  2
+
+The sale was about three thousand a day, and the shareholders received
+£80 per share clear profit. The newspapers of those days paid the
+managers of theatres for accounts of their plays, as witness the
+following entries:
+
+                            £  s. d.
+
+Playhouses,                100  0  0
+Drury Lane advertisements,  64  8  6
+Covent Garden               66 11  0
+                           ---------
+                          £230 19  6
+
+Theatrical advertising had not reached the pitch of development which it
+has since attained; the competition was not so severe, and managers did
+not find it necessary to have recourse to ingenious methods of
+propitiating dramatic critics, such as producing their plays at the
+commencement of a new season, or paying £300 a year for the supervision
+of the playbills--expedients which have been now and then employed in
+our own times.
+
+Among the writers in the _Public Advertiser_ were Caleb Whitefoord,
+_dilettante_ and wine merchant, Charles d'Este, who, like the popular
+London preacher of the present day, Bellew, first tried the stage, but
+not succeeding in that line, entered the pulpit; John Taylor, afterward
+editor of the _Morning Post_; Tom Syers, author of the 'Dialogues of the
+Dead,' and Woodfall's brother William. This last started the _Morning
+Chronicle_, in 1769, a paper whose fate it was, after lasting nearly a
+century, to pass into the venal hands of Sergeant Glover (who sold it to
+Louis Napoleon, in order that it might become _sub rosâ_ a French organ
+in London), and to die in consequence in well-merited dishonor.
+
+The _Public Ledger_ was brought out by Newberry, the bookseller, in
+1760, and is chiefly remarkable as being the vehicle through which
+Goldsmith's 'Citizen of the World' was first given to the public.
+
+'Poet Goldsmith, for shortness called 'Noll,'
+Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll,'
+
+received two guineas for his first article, and afterward became a
+regular contributor at a guinea an article. William Radcliffe, the
+husband of the authoress of 'The Mysteries of Udolfo,' edited the
+_Englishman_, a paper to which Edmund Burke contributed, and
+subsequently the _English Chronicle_ and the _Morning Herald_. Of all
+these he was proprietor, either altogether or in part, and it seems to
+have been customary for the editor to be the proprietor, or, more
+strictly speaking, for the proprietor to be the editor.
+
+The prosecutions in connection with the letters of Junius were not the
+only attacks made upon the press at this time. Parliament again entered
+the lists against it. There was a certain Lord Marchmont, whose especial
+mission appears to have been to persecute the newspapers. Shakspeare
+says,
+
+'The evil that men do lives after them,
+The good is oft interred with their bones;'
+
+and whether or no my Lord Marchmont ever did any good cannot now be
+ascertained. All that is known of him is that he was very pertinacious
+and very successful in his onslaughts upon his victims, for, whenever he
+saw the name of any member of the House of Peers in a journal, he used
+to make a motion against the printer for breach of privilege, summon him
+before the bar of the House, and have him heavily fined. The House of
+Commons followed suit. The old bone of contention, the reporting of the
+debates, was raked up again. There were then two giants of reporting,
+William Woodfall, who, from his wonderful retentive powers, was called
+by the _sobriquet_ of Memory Woodfall, and William Radcliffe. It was in
+1771 that the House proceeded to active measures by a majority of ninety
+votes to fifty-five. Orders were given to arrest the printers,
+publishers, and authors of the _Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser_ and
+the _Middlesex Journal, or Chronicle of Liberty_. The printers went into
+hiding, and a reward of £50 was offered for their apprehension. Shortly
+afterward, this raid was extended to the printers of the _Morning
+Chronicle_, _St. James's Chronicle_, _General Post_, _London Evening
+Post_, _Whitehall Evening Post_, and _London Packet_. Some of these
+appeared at the bar of the House, and actually _made their submission on
+their knees_. Miller, of the _London Evening Post_, declined to
+surrender, and was, after some difficulty, arrested under a warrant from
+the speaker. He was taken before the lord mayor, who was a member of the
+House of Commons. The city's chief magistrate--let his name, Brass
+Crosby, be remembered with honor--declared the warrant illegal,
+discharged Miller, and committed the speaker's messenger for assault.
+The same thing was done in the case of Wheble, of the _Middlesex
+Journal_, who was taken before John Wilkes, then sitting as alderman at
+Guildhall; and in that of Thompson, of the _Gazetteer_, who was taken
+before Alderman Oliver. The ground for their discharge was that the
+speaker's warrant had no force within the boundaries of the city,
+without being countersigned by a magistrate of the corporation. The
+House of Commons became furious, and ordered the attendance of Crosby
+and Oliver, but, taught by old experience, did not in the first instance
+think it desirable to meddle with Wilkes. The civic magistrates stood
+their ground manfully, and produced their charters. The House retorted
+by looking up the resolutions passed on various occasions against the
+publication of the debates. Meanwhile a mob assembled outside, and
+abused and hustled the members on their way to the House. After a fierce
+debate, Oliver was committed to the Tower. The attendance of Wilkes was
+then ordered for the 8th of April, but, in the mean time, the House,
+like Fear as represented by Collins in his Ode to the Passions,
+
+            'back recoiled...
+Even at the sound himself had made;'
+
+and accordingly got out of the difficulty by adjourning over the day for
+which the redoubtable Wilkes had been summoned. On the 27th of April,
+however, the lord mayor was sent to the Tower. The whole country rang
+with indignation; but, nevertheless, the city magistrates remained
+incarcerated until the 23d of July, when the Parliament was prorogued,
+and, its power of imprisonment being at an end, they were set free. Such
+was the issue of the last battle between the Parliament and the press,
+on the question of publishing the debates. It was fought in 1771, and
+had been a tougher conflict than any of its predecessors, but it was
+decisive. There is no danger of the subject being reopened; the
+reporting of the debates is now one of the most important of the
+functions of our newspapers; and the members themselves are too sensible
+of the services rendered them by the reporters' gallery to be suicidal
+enough to inaugurate a new crusade against it. What those services are,
+any one who has been patriotic or curious enough to sit out a debate in
+the strangers' gallery over night, and then to read the speeches, to
+which he has listened, in the newspapers next morning, can readily
+appreciate. Hazy ideas have become clear, mutilated and unintelligible
+sentences have been neatly and properly arranged, needless repetitions
+and tautological verbiage have disappeared; there is no sign of
+hesitation; hums and haws, and other inexpressible ejaculations, grunts,
+and interpolations find no place; the thread of an argument is shown
+where none was visible before, and all is fluent, concise, and more or
+less to the point.
+
+Meanwhile the tone of the press had again greatly improved, partly owing
+to purification through the trials which it had undergone, and partly
+owing to the better taste of the public. Its circulation had rapidly
+increased. In 1753 the number of stamps on newspapers in the United
+Kingdom was 7,411,757; in 1760, 9,464,790; in 1774, 12,300,608; in 1775,
+12,680,906; and in 1776, 12,836,000, a halt in its progress being caused
+by Lord North's new stamp act, raising the stamp from one to one and a
+half pence. The ordinary price of a news sheet was two or two and a half
+pence, but this was more than doubled by its cost of transmission
+through the post office, which, for a daily paper, was £5 a year. The
+_Morning Post_, the full title of which was originally the _Morning Post
+and Daily Advertiser_, first came out in 1772. In 1775 it appeared
+regularly every morning, under the editorship of the Rev. Henry Bate,
+afterward the Rev. Sir Henry Bate Dudley, Bart. The _Gentleman's
+Magazine_--that prolific mine to whose stores of wealth the present
+series of articles is beholden times out of number--gives a curious
+account of a duel into which this clerical editor was forced in his
+clerical capacity. Editorial duels were not unknown in those days.
+Wilkes had fought one or two, as well as other editors; but these were
+the circumstances of Mr. Bate's encounter:
+
+'The cause of quarrel arose from some offensive paragraphs that had
+appeared in the _Morning Post_, highly reflecting on the character of a
+lady, for whom Captain Stoney had a particular regard. Mr. Bate had
+taken every possible method, consistent with honor, to convince Captain
+Stoney that the insertion of the paragraphs was wholly without his
+knowledge, to which Mr. Stoney gave no credit, and insisted on the
+satisfaction of a gentleman, or the discovery of the author. This
+happened some days before, but meeting, as it were by accident, on the
+day before mentioned (January 13, 1777), they adjourned to the Adelphi,
+called for a room, shut the door, and, being furnished with pistols,
+discharged them at each other without effect. They then drew swords, and
+Mr. Stoney received a wound in the breast and arm, and Mr. Bate one in
+the thigh. Mr. Bate's sword bent and slanted against the captain's
+breastbone, which Mr. Bate apprising him of, Captain Stoney called to
+him to straighten it, and in the interim, while the sword was under his
+foot for that purpose, the door was broken open, or the death of one of
+the parties would most certainly have been the issue.'
+
+Another eminent writer in the _Public Advertiser_ was John Horne,
+afterward John Horne Tooke, the author of the 'Diversions of Purley,' a
+man to be always remembered with gratitude in America, for the part
+which he took in the struggle between the colonies and the mother
+country. His connection with the press was one long series of trials for
+libel, in which he always got the worst of the fray. In fact, he rather
+appeared to like being in hot water, for he more than once wrote an
+article with the full intention of standing the trial which he knew
+would be sure to follow its publication. One of his reasons may have
+been that this was the only way in which he could indulge his penchant
+for forensic disputation. He had been bred a clergyman, but, disliking
+the retirement of a quiet country parsonage, he threw up his preferment,
+abandoned his clerical functions altogether, and came to London to keep
+his terms at the Temple. The benchers, however, holding the force of the
+maxim, 'Once in orders always in orders,' refused to admit him to the
+degree of barrister at law. In 1771 he founded the Society of the
+Supporters of the Bill of Rights, one of the objects of which was to
+uphold the newspapers in their conflicts with their great foe, the law
+of libel, and to defray the expenses which were thus incurred. But,
+owing to some quarrel with Wilkes, he withdrew from his connection with
+this society, and started a new one--the Constitutional Society--which
+was founded in the interests of the American colonies. His publication
+of the doings of this society procured for him the distinction of
+another trial, the upshot of which was that he was fined £200,
+imprisoned for a year, and ordered to find bail for his good behavior
+for three years more. After two unsuccessful attempts he got into
+Parliament, and proved a very troublesome and formidable antagonist to
+ministers, as might be expected from a prominent member of the London
+Corresponding Society, which, consisting chiefly of working men, had for
+its main objects the establishment of universal suffrage and annual
+Parliaments. This society owed its origin to the French Revolution, and
+it kept up a regular correspondence with the National Convention and the
+French Jacobins. It numbered about fifty thousand members, in different
+parts of the kingdom, and disseminated its opinions by means of
+newspapers, pamphlets, and handbills, which were published at a low
+price, or given away in the streets. One of the most influential of
+these pamphlets was Tom Paine's 'Rights of Man,' for writing which he
+was tried and convicted. Erskine was his counsel, and in the course of
+his speech said:
+
+'Other liberties are held under Governments, but the liberty of opinion
+keeps Governments themselves in due subjection to their duties. This has
+produced the martyrdom of truth in every age, and the world has been
+only purged from ignorance with the innocent blood of those who have
+enlightened it.'
+
+The effect of these writings was that Government became alarmed, and a
+proclamation was issued against seditious speaking and writing. The
+_habeas corpus_ act was suspended, and political trials became the order
+of the day. Horne Tooke's was one of the latest of these trials, in
+1794. Erskine was his counsel, and was more successful than when
+defending Paine. The public excitement had by this time very much toned
+down, and Tooke was acquitted. One result of this trial was to secure
+the fortunes of Erskine; but another and much more important one was to
+establish on a firmer basis the right of free discussion and liberty of
+speech, and to check the ministry in the career of terrorism and
+oppression upon which they had entered. Looking back upon these trials,
+at this distance of time, one cannot but feel a conviction that the
+fears of the Government and the nation were absurdly exaggerated. The
+foundations of English society and British institutions were too firmly
+fixed to be easily shaken, even when the whole continent of Europe was
+convulsed from one end to the other. But the London Corresponding
+Society still continued its efforts, till its secretary was tried and
+convicted, and the society itself was suppressed, along with many other
+similar associations, by an act of Parliament, called the Corresponding
+Societies Bill, in 1799. Tooke's connection with it had ceased some time
+before; in fact, it is more than doubtful if he had ever been a
+thorough-going supporter of it in heart, or had any other object than
+that of making political capital out of it, and of indulging his
+belligerent proclivities. He died in 1812, at the age of seventy-six.
+
+In 1777 there were seventeen regular newspapers published in London, of
+which seven were daily, eight tri-weekly, one bi-weekly, and one weekly.
+In 1778 appeared the first Sunday newspaper, under the title of
+_Johnson's Sunday Monitor_.
+
+We have now arrived at the threshold of a very important event--too
+important, in fact, to be introduced at the end of an article, and which
+we therefore reserve for our next number. That event is the birth of the
+_Times_.
+
+
+
+
+THE HOUSE IN THE LANE.
+
+
+  Warm and bright the sun is shining
+    On the farmhouse far away,
+  Like a pleasant picture lying
+    Bright before my gaze all day.
+
+  And I see the tall, gray chimney,
+    And the steep roof sloping down;
+  And far off the spires rise dimly
+    Of the old New Hampshire town.
+
+  And the little footpath creeping
+    Through the long grass to the door,
+  And the hopvine's tresses sweeping
+    The low roof and lintels o'er.
+
+  And the barn with loft and rafter,
+    Weather beaten, scarred, and wide--
+  And the tree I used to clamber,
+    With the well-sweep on one side.
+
+  And beyond that wide old farmyard,
+    And the bridge across the stream,
+  I can see the ancient orchard,
+    Where the russets thickly gleam,
+
+  And the birds sing just as sweetly,
+    In the branches knarled and low,
+  As when autumns there serenely
+    Walked a hundred years ago.
+
+  And upon the east are beaming
+    The salt meadows to the sea,
+  Or the hillside pastures, dreaming
+    Of October pleasantly.
+
+  On the west, like lanterns glimmer
+    Thick the ears of corn to-day,
+  That I sowed along each furrow,
+    Singing as I went, last May.
+
+  So it hangs, that vision tender,
+    Over all my loss and pain,
+  Where the maples flame their splendor
+    By the old house in the lane.
+
+  And, beside the warm south window,
+    At this very hour of day,
+  Where the sunbeams love to linger,
+    With her knitting dropped away,
+
+  She is sitting--mother--mother,
+    With your pale and patient face,
+  Where the frosted hairs forever
+    Shed their sad and tender grace.
+
+  Are you thinking of that morning
+    Your last kisses faltered down,
+  When the summer sun was dawning
+    O'er the old New Hampshire town?
+
+  For my country, in her anguish,
+    Came betwixt us mightily:
+  'Save me, or, my son, I perish!'
+    Was her dread appeal to me.
+
+  Youth and strength and life made answer:
+    When that cry of bitter stress
+  Woke the hills of old New Hampshire,
+    Could I give my country less?
+
+  And not when the battle's thunder,
+    Crashed along our ranks its power--
+  And not now, though fiercer hunger
+    Drains my life-springs at this hour--
+
+  Would I fainter make the answer,
+    Or the offering less complete,
+  That I laid, in old New Hampshire,
+    Joyful at my country's feet!
+
+  Though your boy has borne, dear mother,
+    Watching by that window low,
+  Through the long, slow hours this hunger
+    It would break your heart to know.
+
+  Though the thought of that old larder,
+    And the shelves o'erflowing there,
+  Made the pang of hunger harder
+    Through the day and night to bear.
+
+  And the doves have come each morning,
+    And the lowing kine been fed,
+  While your only boy was starving
+    For a single crust of bread!
+
+  But through all this need and sorrow
+    Has the end been drawing nigh:
+  In these prison walls, to-morrow,
+    It will not be hard to die.
+
+  Though, upon this cold floor lying,
+    Bitter the last pang may be--
+  Still your prayers have sweet replying--
+    The dear Lord has stood with me!
+
+  And His hand the gates shall open,
+    And the home shall fairer shine,
+  That mine earthly one was given,
+    And my life, dear land, for thine.
+
+  So I patient wait the dawning
+    That shall rise and still this pain--
+  Brighter than that last sweet morning
+    By the old house in the lane!
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+  When the sunbeams, growing bolder.
+    Sought him in the noon, next day--
+  Starved to death, New Hampshire's soldier
+    In the Libby Prison lay.
+
+
+
+
+MUSIC A SCIENCE.
+
+
+Much has been written concerning music. Volume after volume, shallow or
+erudite, sentimental or critical, prejudiced or impartial, has been
+issued from the press, but the want (in most instances) of a certain
+scientific foundation, and of rational canons of criticism, has greatly
+obscured the general treatment of the subject. Truth has usually been
+sought everywhere except in the only place where she was likely to be
+found, namely, in the realm of _natural law_, and consequently, of
+science. Old tomes of Greek and Latin lore, school traditions, the usage
+of the best masters, and the verdict of the human ear (a good judge, but
+not always unperverted), have been appealed to for decisions upon
+questions readily answered by a knowledge and consideration of first
+principles resting upon the immutable laws of sound, upon numerical
+relations of vibrations. These principles are strictly scientific, and
+capable of demonstration.
+
+So long ago as 1828, the American public was told by Philip
+Trajetta,[A] that 'if counterpoint be not a science, neither is
+astronomy.' For want of proper expounders, this truth has made but
+little impression, and, while the Art of Music has advanced considerably
+among us, the Science has remained nearly stationary. In Europe,
+erudition, research, and collections of rules have not been wanting.
+Much has been accomplished, but an exhaustive work, based upon the
+simple laws of nature, has (so far as the writer can learn) never yet
+appeared. The profoundly learned and truly great Bohemian musician, W.
+J. Tomaschek, who died in 1849, taught a system of musical science
+founded upon a series of beautiful and easily comprehended natural laws.
+His logical training and wide general cultivation gave him advantages
+enjoyed by few of his profession. The result of his researches has
+unfortunately never been published, and his system of harmony is
+_thoroughly_ known only by his more earnest and studious pupils.
+
+[Footnote A: 'An Introduction to the Art and Science of Music,' written
+for the American Conservatory of Philadelphia, by Philip Trajetta.
+Philadelphia: Printed by I. Ashmead & Co., 1828.
+
+Trajetta was the son of a well-known Italian composer of the same name.
+He was a pupil of the celebrated Conservatorio of Naples, and, as I have
+been informed, was about to obtain a professorship in the Conservatorio
+of Paris, when political circumstances diverted his course to America.
+He was the friend of General Moreau and President Madison. Of noble
+appearance, fine manners, and sensitive temperament, he for some time
+received the consideration due to his talents and acquirements, but, in
+after years, was sadly neglected, and finally died in Philadelphia,
+almost literally of want. His musical knowledge perished with him; his
+manuscripts (operas, oratorios, etc.) were, I believe, all burned by him
+before his death. A sad history, and, in a land where there has been so
+little opportunity for the beet musical instruction, a strange one!]
+
+To define the provinces of _science_ and _art_, we may briefly say, that
+science is concerned with the discovery of demonstrable principles, and
+the deduction of undeniable corollaries; while art is occupied with
+expression, performance, and the creative faculty with which man has
+been endowed. Music and astronomy are both sciences, that is, founded
+upon certain fixed and ascertainable laws; but astronomy is no art,
+because man has not the power to create, or even remodel worlds, and
+send them rolling through space; while he can produce sounds, and
+arrange them in such a way as to result in significant meaning and in
+beauty, two of the chief ends of art.
+
+The music of different periods in the world's history has rested upon
+the various scales recognized during those periods as fundamental, which
+scales have been more or less complete as they have approached or
+receded from the absolutely fundamental scale as given by nature. The
+scales now in use are not identical with the natural scale, but are, in
+different degrees, _derived_ from it.
+
+The natural scale is, in its commencement, harmonic, and is found by the
+consideration of the natural progression of sound consequent upon the
+division and subdivision of a single string. It ought to be familiar to
+every student of acoustics. The sound produced by the striking or
+twanging of a single string (on a monochord) is called the tonic, and
+also, from its position as the lowest note, the bass. If we divide this
+string in half, we will obtain a series of vibrations producing a sound
+the _same in character_, but, so to speak, _doubly high in pitch_. This
+sound is named the octave, because it is the eighth note in our common
+diatonic scale. If we divide the string into three parts, the result
+will be a sound called the large fifth; a division into four parts gives
+the next higher octave of the bass; into five, gives the sound known as
+the large third, commonly called major third; into six, the octave, or
+next higher repetition, of the large fifth; into seven, the small
+seventh; into eight, the third repetition of the octave of the bass. The
+progression thus far is hence: Bass--1st octave of bass--large fifth--2d
+octave of bass--large third--1st octave of large fifth--small
+seventh--3d octave of bass. Employing the alphabetical names of the
+notes (always ascending): C--C--G--C--E--G--B flat--C.
+
+This progression may truly be called _natural_, as it is that into which
+the string naturally divides itself when stricken. An attentive ear can
+readily distinguish the succession of sounds as far as the small
+seventh. The longer bass strings of any piano of full tone and resonant
+sounding board will suffice for the experiment. These are also the
+natural notes as found, with differences in compass, in the simple horn
+and trumpet, and the phenomenon is visibly shown in the well-known
+experiment of grains of sand placed on a brass or glass plate, and made
+to assume various forms and degrees of division under the influence of
+certain musical sounds.
+
+This is not the place to elaborate the subject, or to show the
+progression of the natural scale as produced by further subdivisions of
+the string. Suffice it to say that the remaining notes of the common
+diatonic scale are _selected_ (with some slight modifications) from
+sounds thus produced. This scale cannot then be considered, in all its
+parts, as the fundamental, natural one. Nature permits to man a great
+variety of thought and action, provided always he does not too far
+infringe her organic laws. She may allow opposing forces to result in
+small perturbations, but fundamental principles and their legitimate
+consequences must remain intact.
+
+No one can ponder upon the above-mentioned harmonic foundation of the
+musical scale without conceiving a new idea of the beauty and
+significance of that glorious art and science which may be proved to be
+based upon laws decreed by the Almighty himself. The one consideration
+that, in all probability, no single musical sound comes to us alone, but
+each one is accompanied by its choir of ascending harmonic sequences, is
+sufficient to afford matter for many a wholesome and delightful
+meditation.
+
+Instead, then, of regarding our earthly music as a purely human
+invention, we may look upon it as a genuine gift from heaven, a
+_legitimate_ forerunner of the exalted strains one day to be heard in
+the heavenly Jerusalem.
+
+The laws of vibrations producing sound, of undulations giving rise to
+light and color, of oscillations resulting in heat, the movements of the
+heavenly bodies, the flow of electric and magnetic currents, the
+rhythmical beat of the pulse, the unceasing march of mind and human
+events, all lead us to the consideration of _motion_ as one of the
+greatest of secondary causes in the guidance of the universe. Do we not,
+indeed, find the same element in the Divine Trinity of the Godhead, in
+the eternal generation of the Son, and the procession of the Holy
+Spirit?
+
+
+
+
+THOUGHT.
+
+
+  The stars move calm within the brow of night:
+    No sea of molten flame therein is pent,
+    Nor meteors, from that burning chaos, blent,
+  Shoot from their orbits in a maddening flight.
+  But in the brain is clasped a flood of light,
+    Whose seething fires can find no form, nor vent,
+    And pour, through the strained eyeballs, glances, rent
+  From suffering worlds within, hidden from sight
+    And laboring for birth. This chaos deep
+  Touch thou, O Thought! and crystallize to form,
+  Resolve to order its wild lightning storm
+    Of meteor dreams! that into life shall leap
+  At thy command, and move before thy face
+  In starry majesty, and awful grace.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAR A CONTEST FOR IDEAS.
+
+
+One of those curious pamphlets, or _brochures_, as they call them, which
+the French political writers make the frequent medium of their
+discussions, was lately published at Paris, under the title of 'France,
+Mexico, and the Confederate States.' It is less a discussion of the
+Mexican question than an adroit appeal, under cover of it, in behalf of
+the Southern confederacy. It addresses itself to the enthusiastic
+temperament of Frenchmen, with the specious sophism, underlying its
+argument, that the South is fighting for _ideas_, the North for _power_.
+This is a sophism largely current abroad, and not without its dupes even
+at home. The purpose of this paper is to expose the nakedness of it.
+
+Fighting for ideas may be a very sublime thing, and it may likewise be a
+very ridiculous thing. The valorous knight of La Mancha set forth to
+fight for ideas, and he began to wage war with windmills. He fought for
+ideas, indeed, but his distempered imagination quite overlooked the fact
+that they were ideas long since dead, beyond hope of resurrection. And
+it is but the statement of palpable truth to declare that whatever ideas
+the South is fighting for now, are of a like obsolete character. The
+glory of feudalism, as a system of society, is departed; and its
+attendant glories of knight-errantry and human slavery are departed with
+it. Don Quixote thought to reestablish the one, and the South deludes
+itself with the hope of reestablishing the other. Times and ideas have
+changed since the days of feudalism, and the South only repeats in
+behalf of slavery the tragic farce of Don Quixote in behalf of
+knight-errantry. Both alike would roll back the centuries of modern
+civilization, and, reversing the dreams of Plato and Sir Thomas More,
+would hope to find a Utopia in the dark ages of the past.
+
+We do not ridicule, much less deny the power of ideas. On the contrary,
+we believe heartily in ideas, and in men of ideas. We accept ideas as
+forces of civilization, and we would magnify their office as teachers
+and helpers of man, in his poor strivings after good. Man is ever
+repeating the despondent cry of the Psalmist, 'Who will show us any
+good?' It is the mission of ideas, the ministering angels of
+civilization, to lift him into a realm of glorious communion with good
+and spiritual things, and so inspire him to heroic effort in his work.
+
+Nevertheless, while thus willing to glorify the office of ideas, we hold
+them to be of less worth than institutions. That is, ideas, of
+themselves, are of little practical value. An idea, disjoined from an
+institution, is spirit without body; just as an institution that does
+not embody a noble idea, is body without spirit. An idea, to be
+effective, must be organized; an institution, to be effective, must have
+breathed into it the breath of life, must be vivified with an idea. It
+is only thus, in and through institutions, that ideas can exert their
+proper influence upon society.
+
+This is, indeed, the American principle of reform. The thorough
+conviction of it in the hearts of the American people has thus far saved
+us from the anarchy of radicalism, which is ever agitating new ideas;
+and is now destined to save us from the bolder-faced anarchy of
+revolution, seeking to overthrow our institutions.
+
+But fighting for ideas, what does it mean? The French Revolution (that
+great abortion of the eighteenth century and of history) was fought for
+ideas, and ended in despotism. Does fighting for ideas mean despotism?
+The French Revolution went directly to the root of the question. It
+struck, as radicalism can never help but strike, at the very foundations
+of society. Hence, in France, the abolition of institutions (the
+safeguards of ideas), and the consequent check of the great principles
+which the Revolution set out to establish. Thus it is that the French
+Revolution has made itself the great example of history, warning nations
+against the crude radicalisms of theorists. It is not enough to fight
+for ideas--we must fight also for institutions. Yet society seems never
+to learn the lesson which Nature never tires of repeating, that all true
+growth is gradual. Political science must start with the first axiom of
+natural science, that 'Nature acts by insensible gradations.' Radicalism
+is not reform. Radicalism and conservatism must combine together to make
+reform. An eminent divine and scholar lately illustrated the point thus:
+'The arm of progressive power rests always on the fulcrum of stability.'
+This statement is exhaustive, and sums up the case.
+
+But let us examine the question of ideas a little more closely, and see
+whether, indeed, it is the South or the North that is fighting for ideas
+in this contest. And let us interpret ideas, according to the etymology
+of the word, to mean those things which the mind _sees_, and the
+conscience accepts and recognizes and _knows_, to be just elements, or
+principles, of civilization. For it is only such ideas that call forth a
+response from the mighty instincts of the masses. The common conscience
+of mankind tests the ideas always, as the apostle teaches us to try the
+spirits, 'whether they are of God.'
+
+
+I. THE IDEA OF POLITICAL EQUALITY.
+
+It will hardly be disputed that the great idea of the age is the
+democratic idea, or the idea of political equality. It is the idea that
+all men are kings, because equals: just as the highest idea of theology
+is, at last, that all men are ordained to be priests unto God, The
+problem of political philosophy is to make this idea a reality and fact.
+Our institutions have this for their sublime mission. We are seeking to
+demonstrate, in the American way, the essential truth of those ideas
+which failed of their perfect fruit in France, because not rightly
+organized and applied. America is the youngest and last-born of the
+nations; and to her it has been intrusted to develop the democratic idea
+in the system of representative government. Politics is thus made to
+harmonize and be at one with progress. The last-born of nations is set
+for the teaching and developing of the last-born of governmental
+principles. If, moreover, we regard America, according to the teachings
+of physical geography, as the first-born of the continents, we may
+discover another beautiful harmony. For our democratic system, in basing
+itself on the idea of political equality does, in effect, start from the
+very first principle of all true government; and this first principle of
+government thus finds its temple and home in the first of the
+continents.
+
+But let us not be misled by specious names. Let us not mistake for
+political equality the crude fancies of idealists, who would reverse the
+order of creation, and declare an equality that does not exist.
+Political equality neither assumes nor infers social equality; and
+therefore is not subversive of social order. It does not presuppose
+natural equality; and, therefore, is not contrary to palpable evidence,
+and hence unphilosophical and false. Political equality is but the
+corollary and logical result of that maxim of our system, set forth in
+our Declaration of Independence, that 'government derives its just
+powers from the consent of the governed.'
+
+Political equality is, therefore, the essential condition of our
+republic. It is the alpha and omega of our political philosophy. It is
+the first factor in the problem of our government. It is the organized
+idea of our nation, and is embodied in that nation. It is the lifespring
+of our institutions. It is the basis of our government. It is what makes
+the United States of America the hope of humanity.
+
+While, therefore, political equality may not be the _fact_ of our
+government, the nation stands for that idea. The founders of the
+government were content with affirming the great idea; and they left to
+the benignant influences of time and conscience and Christianity, under
+our institutions, the work of reducing the idea to fact. For more than
+half a century the work has gone on, and still 'goes bravely on.' In
+peace and war the same magnificent Constitution is over us, and that
+Constitution, avoiding designedly the odious word slave, is a chart and
+covenant of freedom.
+
+Directly opposed to this idea is the organization of the Southern
+confederacy--the essential and substantial antipodes of our system. The
+United States stands at the political zenith; the confederate States at
+the political nadir. The Southern confederacy denies the truth of our
+system, and asserts that political equality is a fiction and
+foolishness. To it, indeed, political equality is a stumbling block; for
+the confederate constitution bases itself openly and unblushingly on the
+principle of property in man. It has been blasphemously announced that
+this is the stone which the builders of our government refused, and that
+it is now become the headstone of the corner of a divinely instituted
+nation. The blasphemy that hesitated not to declare John Brown equal
+with Jesus Christ, is hardly worse than this; for John Brown was, at
+least, an honest fanatic. The traitorous chiefs of the Southern
+rebellion are neither fanatics nor honest men. They have stifled the
+voice of conscience, and are bad men.
+
+If their scheme of society is true, then our faith in God, and our faith
+in man as the child of God, are false faiths; 'and we are found false
+witnesses of God.' For it has been common hitherto to believe in the
+loftiest capacities of man, as the child of God, and made in the divine
+image; and this belief has had the sanction of all ages. Cheered and
+strengthened by such a belief, men have struggled bravely and steadily
+against priestcraft and kingcraft, against the absolutism of power in
+every form. The magnificent ideal of a government which the masses of
+mankind should themselves establish and uphold, has been the quickening
+life of all republics since time began. It is the noblest of optimisms;
+and, like religion, has never been without a witness in the human soul,
+ever inspiring the genius of prophecy and song, ever moving the great
+instincts of humanity. Science, fathoming all things, gave expression to
+this instinct and hope and belief of the ages in the principle of
+political equality as a basis of government. It is, in other words, the
+science of political self-government. It was reserved for the nineteenth
+century to develop the idea, for the American nation to illustrate its
+practical power and its splendid possibilities. The question of man's
+capacity for self-government in at issue now in the contest between the
+North and South, and its champion is the North.
+
+
+II. THE IDEA OF NATIONALITY.
+
+There is another idea involved in this war; and, unlike the idea of
+political equality, it is sanctioned by the precedents of all ages and
+all nations, so as to preclude any possibility that it should now be
+disputed. It bases itself on that principle of order which is heaven's
+first law, and so commends itself to men as the fitting first law of
+society. It is the idea of nationality; in a word, of government. Like
+the idea of political equality, it also finds its champion in the North.
+
+The Southern confederacy is the organized protest of anarchy against
+law. It represents in politics that doctrine in religious thought which
+declares every man a law unto himself. It kicks against the restraints
+of constitutions and laws, declaring virtually that when a law, or a
+constitution ordaining laws, ceases to be agreeable, its binding force
+is gone. For a similar and equally valid reason, some men (and, alas!
+some women), disregarding the solemn sanctions of the marriage tie, have
+been willing to set aside this first law of the family and of home. The
+Southern confederacy also makes light of national agreements, disposing
+of them according to the facile doctrine of repudiation, which its
+perjured chief once adopted as the basis of a system of state finance.
+It is eminently in accordance with the fitness of things, that the man
+who could counsel his State to repudiate its bonds, should stand at the
+head of a confederacy which began its existence by repudiating the
+sacred agreement to which the faith and fortune of all its members were
+solemnly pledged, and under the broad shield of whose protection they
+had grown prosperous and powerful. If one may be permitted to express an
+opinion different from Mr. Stephens's, it might be said that the corner
+stone of the Southern confederacy is properly repudiation. On the other
+hand, the cause of the United States is the cause of order. It is also
+the cause of freedom.
+
+It is important to note the union of these two forces of civilization;
+for hitherto, in the great wars of history, liberty has generally
+opposed itself to order, and has too often seemed to be synonymous with
+anarchy. The passions of the masses have too often burst forth, in great
+revolutions, like volcanic eruptions, carrying devastation and
+destruction in their path; The French Revolution stands for the type and
+instance of all these terrible catastrophes. This war of ours presents a
+different spectacle; for in the maintenance of it the two principles of
+freedom and order go hand in hand. It is this union of them which
+demands for the United States, in this contest, the support of both the
+great parties of civilization--the conservatives and the radicals. It
+is, therefore, preëminently a just war, because waged in the combined
+interests of liberty and order.
+
+But, it is objected, you, in effect, deny the right of revolution. No;
+on the contrary, we establish it. For the right of revolution is no
+right for any people unless they have wrongs. The right of revolution is
+not an absolute, it is a relative right. Like all such rights, it has
+its limitations--the limitation of the public law and the public
+conscience. For neither the public law nor the public conscience
+sanctions revolution for the sole sake of revolution. That brave old
+revolutionist of early Rome, Brutus, understood this well, and though
+his country was groaning under the oppression of Tarquin, he sighed for
+'a cause.' There must be a cause for revolution, and such a cause as
+will commend itself to men's consciences, as well as to the just
+principles of law and equity.
+
+Some men seem to think that revolution is, of itself, a blessed thing.
+They love change in government for the sake of change. When Julius Cæsar
+invaded Gaul he found just such men, and he characterized them, in his
+terse military way, as those who 'studied new things,' that is, desired
+constantly a renewal of public affairs, or renovation of government. He
+found these men, moreover, his most ready tools, even in his designs
+against their country's liberties; and it would seem as though this
+revolutionary characteristic of the early inhabitants of Gaul had
+remained impressed upon their descendants ever since.
+
+We repeat that the right of revolution is a limited right. An absolute
+and unlimited right of revolution would only be the other extreme of an
+absolute and unlimited government; and this is not the age of absolutism
+in matters of government. Just as absolute liberty is an impracticable
+thing, in the present constitution of human beings, so the absolute
+right of revolution, which derives its highest title from the sacred
+right of liberty, is equally impracticable. We must be careful how we
+use these words liberty and revolution. Words are things in a time of
+earnest work like the present. The war is settling the old scholastic
+dispute for us, and is making us all realists. Liberty and loyalty and
+law are no longer brave words merely: they are things, and things of
+tremendous power; and some men slink away from them. But we need to
+remember that liberty does not mean license. The political liberty of
+our time, testing the truth of our representative democracy, is
+constitutional liberty. It presupposes an organic law, giving force and
+effect to it: and without this organic law, liberty is a delusion and a
+dream--a vague unsubstantiality. Liberty is like the lightning. To be
+made an agent of man's political salvation, it must be brought down from
+its home in the clouds, and put under the restraints and checks of
+institutions. The institutions protect it; it sanctifies the
+institutions. In its unchecked power, like the lightning, it annihilates
+and overwhelms man. Unchecked, it becomes a reckless license, disgracing
+history and its own fair name with such scenes as the French Revolution,
+and causing the martyred defenders of its sacred majesty to cry out, in
+bitter agony of disappointment: 'O Liberty, what crimes are committed in
+thy name!'
+
+In fact, the liberty that is valuable is the liberty that is regulated
+by law; just as the law that is valuable is the law that has the spirit
+of liberty. This is the American doctrine of constitutional liberty, as
+it has ever been expounded by our great statesmen and orators; and it
+commends itself to the sound sense of all reflecting men.
+
+In seeking, therefore, to subvert our Constitution, the South attack the
+principle of liberty, which is the basis of it, and which it guarantees.
+More than this, they attack the principle of constitutional liberty; for
+their secession is in virtue of that unchecked liberty which is license,
+that absolute liberty which is anarchy. They are not contending for the
+sacred right of revolution. It is treason against that majestic
+principle to apply it to the cause of the South. They were not
+oppressed; they were not even controlled by a dominant party opposed to
+them; their will was almost law, for it made our laws. According to the
+_theory_ of our Constitution, they possessed equal rights with all other
+sections of the Union; under the _practice_ of it, and in _fact_, they
+had gradually come to possess and were actually wielding greater power
+than all other sections. It is thus seen how vain and absurd is the plea
+that they were driven into revolution to redress wrongs, or that they
+revolted and seceded for the purpose of preserving rights. Their rights
+were neither actually assailed, nor were likely to be assailed. The
+protest of that eminent statesman of the South who afterward ('oh, what
+a fall was there, my countrymen!') became the second officer of its
+traitorous government, is conclusive evidence on this point. The
+Southern rebellion is simply and entirely the effort to secure exclusive
+control where formerly the South had a joint control. Robert Toombs
+said, in a conversation, in Georgia, in the winter of 1860-'61: 'We
+intend, sir, to have a government of our own and we won't have any
+compromises.' To the same import is the letter of Mason to Davis, in
+1856, which has lately seen the light. To one not blinded by prejudice,
+indeed, the evidences are overwhelming of a long-plotted conspiracy on
+the part of certain leading politicians, without the knowledge and
+contrary to the known intentions of the Southern people. The Southern
+rebellion is simply the attempt to break up a constitutional government,
+by politicians who had become dissatisfied with the natural and
+inevitable workings and tendencies of it, even though administered by
+themselves. It is simply, therefore, the question of anarchy that we
+have to deal with. Therefore, we say that the North is fighting for the
+idea of government.
+
+We are not seeking to perpetuate oppressive power. On the other hand,
+the rebellion is a flagrant attempt to organize oppression. We are
+seeking to perpetuate power, it is true, but a power which has stood for
+nearly a hundred years, and must continue to stand, if it stand at all,
+as a bulwark against oppression. We are vindicating our right to be, as
+a nation. We are proving our title to rank among the powers of the
+earth. We are vindicating the majesty of our supreme organic law. That
+supreme organic law is the Constitution. It ordains for itself a method
+of amendment, so as to leave no right of revolution against it. It
+admits no right of revolution, because in ordaining and establishing it
+the parties to it expressly merged that right in another principle,
+adopted to avoid the necessity of a resort to revolution. In other
+words, the right of revolution is in our Constitution exalted into the
+peaceful principle of amendment. Instead, therefore, of really being
+denied, the right of revolution is, indeed, enlarged and consecrated in
+our system of government, which rests upon that right. In vindicating
+and maintaining, therefore, that system, we vindicate and maintain with
+it the right of revolution. But we deny any such thing as a right of
+revolution for the sole sake of revolution; because it leads to anarchy.
+We deny the right of revolution for the sake of oppression; because it
+leads to absolutism. Revolution in the interests of order, justice, and
+freedom, we hold to be the only right worthy of the name, and God help
+our nation never to oppose such a revolution!
+
+Since the foregoing was written, an article in _Frazer's Magazine_, for
+last October, has fallen under the writer's notice, which discusses the
+point under consideration, and expresses similar views with those here
+stated. An extract from it is given to show how the question is viewed
+from a British stand-point:
+
+     'The principle of American independence was, that when a
+     considerable body of men are badly governed and oppressed by a
+     government under which they live, they have a right to resist and
+     withdraw from it; and unless everything in the history of England
+     of which we have been accustomed to boast, from Magna Charta to the
+     Reform Bill, was a crime, this principle is perfectly true. To deny
+     to the United States, as most of our public writers did deny to
+     them, the right of putting down resistance not justified by
+     oppression, and to impose upon them the duty of submitting at once
+     to any resistance whatsoever, whether justified or not, was
+     equivalent to maintaining that chronic anarchy was the only state
+     of things which could exist in North America.'
+
+It is refreshing to read in a British periodical so clear a statement of
+this just distinction. We cannot forbear to cite another extract from
+the same article, because it confirms so clearly the argument of this
+paper:
+
+     'The Dutch fought the Spaniards for their hearths, homes, and
+     churches; the French fought all Europe with famine and the
+     guillotine behind them, and empire and plenty in front. The English
+     in India had the pride of superior race and the memory of
+     inexpiable injuries to urge them against the Sepoys; but if ever a
+     nation in this world sacrificed itself deliberately and manfully to
+     an idea, this has been the case with the Americans.'
+
+What is this idea to which we have thus bravely sacrificed ourselves,
+even a phlegmatic Englishman being the judge? It is the idea of the
+nation--the idea that the nation is the gift of God, to be cherished and
+defended as a sacred trust; and that we can no more rid ourselves of its
+obligations than we can rid ourselves of the obligations of home or the
+church. To the reckless assertion of those who say that the United
+States is, in this war, actuated by the lust for power, and is not moved
+by the inspiration of great ideas, we oppose the foregoing candid
+statement of a third party, and one not very likely to be prejudiced in
+our favor. It is the testimony of an unwilling witness, and therefore of
+great weight.
+
+Summing up the points that have been considered in this paper, it seems
+clear that so far as the war is a contest for ideas, the North, standing
+for the United States, has the right of it. For, first, we contend for
+political equality, the grand idea of the age and the ages;
+comprehending within itself, and presupposing, as a logical premise, the
+grander idea of liberty. Thus also we vindicate the rights of man, as a
+fact of government and as a principle of political philosophy. And,
+secondly, we contend for the sacred right of order, as opposed to the
+destructive radicalism of revolution for the sake of oppression and not
+in the name of liberty.
+
+We believe that our nation has been born, in the providence of God, to
+the magnificent mission of developing the democratic idea, of the rule
+of the people--the idea that every man is a king, and that humanity
+itself is royal because made in the image of God. The nation is now
+vindicating that mission before the world. In the success of it all the
+great ideas that cheer on our poor humanity in its toiling
+march--liberty, justice, political order--confirmed and made sure by a
+government organized for the purpose of securing and maintaining them,
+are bound up; and--with that mission those ideas, as organized powers,
+must live or die.
+
+
+
+
+HINTS TO THE AMERICAN FARMER.
+
+
+It does not so much signify what a man does for a livelihood, provided
+he does it well. The people must sooner or later learn this catholic
+doctrine, or one element of republicanism will never be knit into our
+character. The doing it well is the essential point, whether one builds
+a ship or writes a poem. Does the American farmer do his work well? And,
+if not, wherewith shall he be advised, persuaded, encouraged, and taught
+to do better or the best?
+
+It is estimated that three fourths of the people of the United States
+are agriculturists, and nearly all the rest laborers of some sort
+dependent upon them. Every economist knows that the interests of
+agriculture, manufactures, and commerce are one and indivisible. He who
+by word or deed helps one, helps all, and thereby moves civilization
+onward one step at least. Before our Government takes hold of the
+condition of agriculture in the United States as a state measure, and
+even after it comes up to the hour when we shall have a Secretary of
+Agriculture, Manufactures, and Commerce in the cabinet, after the manner
+of France, Italy, and Prussia, the farmer himself, individually, must
+work some important and radical changes in his social and industrial
+polity, and prepare himself for the generous assistance of a wise and
+beneficent Government.
+
+The farmer supports every other material interest. Standing upon the
+primary strata of civilization, he bears on his broad hands and stout
+shoulders the 'weight of mightiest monarchies.' Daniel Webster calls him
+'the founder of civilization.'
+
+Is it at all necessary that the spring in the hills should be cool,
+clear, and pure, and wind its way over a granitic soil, through green
+meadows, beneath the shading forest, into a sandy basin, to form a
+beautiful lake in a retired, rural retreat? If so, is it at all
+necessary that the moral virtues of the founders of society should be
+duly educated, cultured into the soul, leaving the impress on generation
+after generation, of honor, of order, of manliness, of thrift? The
+condition of the farmers is the postulate by which the sagacious
+economist will foretell the future prosperity of the nation they
+represent. This is what the American farmer should have presented to him
+from every stand-point. It is lamentable that this vocation should be so
+sadly represented by the most of those who are engaged in it.
+
+This occupation of farming is the noblest work which can engage the
+attention of man. Off of his farm, whether it be large or small, the
+farmer, by diligent and intelligent cultivation, can gather whatever he
+or the world needs; what the world needs for its manufactures and
+commerce; what he needs for his personal comfort, pleasure, or the
+gratification of his natural tastes;--the two crops which furnish the
+daily bread to the material and spiritual nature of man;--the green
+fields, than which nothing is more beautiful; the sweet song of birds,
+their gay plumage, their happy conferences, their winged life, making
+melodious the woods and fields; the sky, ever above us, ever changing,
+grand at morning, magnificent at evening, hanging like a gracious
+benediction over us; the flowers, ever opening their petals to the sun,
+turning their beauty on the air, to delight, instruct, and bless
+mankind;--indulging his taste for art, in the plan of his farm and
+buildings, their claims to architectural skill; in the planting of his
+fruit and ornamental trees, 'in groves, in lines, in copses;' in the
+form and make of his fishponds, shady walks, grottos, or rural seats for
+quiet resort for study, comfort, pleasure, or rest.
+
+The ancients paid great attention to the cultivation of the earth. Many
+of the best men of Greece were agriculturists. Mind was given to it, and
+great progress was made in the improvement of implements; in the method
+of cultivation, and in the additional yield of their farms. The Romans
+continued for a long period to improve on the state of agriculture as
+they received it from the Grecians, until the political condition of
+their country destroyed all freedom and independence of action and
+thought. The best and greatest men of all ages and countries, statesmen,
+scholars, kings, and presidents, have loved it, followed it, and labored
+for its advancement. Do noble minds stoop to ignoble vocations, and
+become identified with them? This nation, not yet a century old, can
+boast, as among the statesmen-farmers, of Washington, Adams, Jefferson,
+Patrick Henry, Franklin, Jackson, Calhoun, Clay, and Webster, and many
+others, the least of whose greatness of character was not that they
+loved nature, or knew the charm of agricultural pursuits. The occupation
+has become sanctified by their devotion to it.
+
+We all know the sympathy and love of the late lamented Prince Albert for
+the vocation of farming, and the liberality with which, on his model
+farm, experiments were verified which in any manner might contribute to
+the interests of the farmer. He even entered the lists for the prize for
+the best stock at the yearly exhibitions of the Royal Agricultural
+Society. There is something very suggestive of nobility in this vocation
+of farming, when the brightest intellects of the nation bow in homage to
+the strength of mother earth, and seek by severe thought, study, and
+experiment, to assist a further yield of her kindly fruits, or persuade
+her to bestow a portion of her bounties, so long withheld, upon the
+wooing husbandman. It marks agriculture as the first and highest calling
+for the development in the highest degree of the nation and of mankind.
+
+Every man may have his plot of ground, in the cultivation and adornment
+of which he may realize the pleasure which accompanies the calling of
+amateur farmer, horticulturist, or florist, in which he is in constant
+communication with nature and her beauty. 'In it there is no corruption,
+but rather goodness.'
+
+How kindly nature seems to have dealt with some of the old farmers who
+even now tread the broad earth, beloved and reverenced by all who know
+them! What simplicity and purity of speech; what honesty of manner; what
+kind dispositions; what charity of judgment; what tenderness of heart;
+what nobility of soul seem to have concentrated in each one of them!
+They are the gifts of nature, gathered, developed, interpreted,
+personified in man. They are our aristocracy. From them through
+generation after generation shall flow the pure blood of the best men in
+republican America. Ages hence, the children who enjoy the privileges of
+this republic, and endeavor to trace their lineage through history to
+find the fountain of their present American stock, will as surely meet
+with no unpleasant encounter, nor be compelled to forego the search from
+fear of mortification, as they trace their family line through long
+generations of intelligent American farmers. Superficial 'Young America'
+and 'our best society' may smirk, snicker, sneer, and live on, slaves to
+fashion and the whims of Mrs. Grundy, in their fancied secure social
+position for all time. But ere long the balance of man's better
+judgment, the best society of great men, and representatives for history
+of a great people, will weigh in opposite scales the artificialities,
+the formalities, the selfishness of popular social circles, against the
+honesty, the naturalness, the simplicity, the worth of the practical
+lovers of nature; and the result shall be the inscription upon the wall
+which made their prototypes of old tremble, reflecting upon them also
+its ghostly and terrific glare. Were it not for the infusion almost
+constantly going on, from the country, of fresh blood into the veins of
+the diseased body politic in our largest cities, destruction, disgrace,
+and financial ruin would early mark the spot where once flourished a
+proud and sinful people.
+
+In farming, man has to do with nature. Out of doors he spends the
+greater portion of his life. His intelligent eye takes in the beautiful
+objects of land and sky, sea and mountain; his refined ear, by practice
+and cultivation, delights in the exquisite harmony of the birds, the
+music of the wind, the murmuring of the sea, the sighing amid the
+forests;--the beauty of the flowers, springing in the utmost profusion
+at his feet--peeping at early spring from beneath the lately fallen
+snow, an earnest that life yet remains under the clods of apparently
+exhausted nature--their continued offerings through the long and sultry
+days of summer; the trees putting on their rich and glowing robes at
+autumn, ripening for their restoration to the bosom which gave them life
+and which yielded them to us for a season, clothing all the hills,
+valleys, and mountains with the gorgeous colors from 'nature's royal
+laboratory.' Who can say this beauty and this pleasure are for nought?
+The intelligence which observes and loves these sights hesitates not,
+nor can it be deterred from reflecting upon their Source. The farmer,
+turning the sod with the plough, and dropping the grain into the newly
+turned furrow, expects life amid the decay of the clod. The favorable
+sunshine and shower, the gentle dews and heat of summer bring forth,
+after a partial decay of the seed, the blade, the ear, and after that
+the full corn in the ear. The perfume of the newly turned earth
+exhilarates and refreshes the spirits of the laborer and what appears
+the hardest work becomes a welcome task. Toil here has its immediate
+recompense. Always peaceful, always contented and cheerful, always kind,
+there is no want of companions whose presence is delightful and never
+burdensome. The oriole, the swallow, the sparrow, the cawing crow, the
+chipmuck, or the squirrel will not desert him. He can always rely upon
+their presence while engaged in the necessary preparation for the
+harvest. The flowers are with him, and the perfume from the blossoms in
+the fields and orchard will fall like incense upon his receptive spirit.
+His thoughts will turn involuntarily to the Origin of all Good, from
+which have come to him, in so great abundance, the favorable conditions
+for happiness and peace.
+
+Contemplating in silence and alone, away from the distractions of busy
+life in cities, the disappointments of politics, and the petty
+disturbances and quarrels of a more crowded existence, his thoughts
+become pure, holy, and sacred.
+
+The tree grows slowly but surely beside his door, under whose shadows he
+has rested at the close of the summer's day, and, with his family about
+him, reflected upon his finished labors, and planned the work for
+to-morrow. The wonderful power of the Creator, and the matchless
+argument for His existence, as displayed in the beauty of the heavens,
+are spread before him. Its presence is a blessing to him. This tree, a
+century ago the tiny seed of the beautiful elm, which floated perhaps on
+some zephyr, or, tossed by some summer gale, dropped noiselessly into
+its cradle at this door--fortune favored its growth, and protected it
+from the injuries of chance or intent. It patiently grew and spread its
+hospitable arms, as if to embrace the surrounding neighborhood, and is
+now a protection and safeguard, a blessing and a continued promise of
+the watchfulness and care of the Father. This honest, grateful, simple
+soul has learned from it the beauty of a patient spirit. It has been
+always to him the generous companion of his weary moments, never failing
+to return at spring the beauty so ruthlessly torn at autumn; rendering
+to his just soul the contentment of the well-doer in this world's works,
+yet still progressing, growing, and enlarging in its sphere of
+usefulness and trust.
+
+The regularity in the procession of the seasons, the dependence and
+faith inculcated by their never-failing return of the bounties asked of
+them for his proper observance of their demands, have rendered order a
+controlling power with him, and punctuality has become a virtue.
+
+The large independence of the concerns of men has not made him
+autocratic in manner, nor indifferent to progress in the condition of
+mankind. Faithful to the duties of the good citizen, and to himself, he
+has not forgotten his moral duties toward the social polity, and neither
+state, nor church, nor school, nor family, but feels the influence of
+his tender care. Health has been always with him and on his side.
+Cleanliness is throughout his household, and scrupulous care of the
+manners, neatness, and thrift which make a good farmer's home so
+cheerful, is his.
+
+Such is the intelligent, patient, thorough cultivator of the soil. Is
+there not a nobility of nature in it, far surpassing that which the
+false standard of society gives to man? What profession, business, or
+vocation of any sort engaged in by man, carries in its legitimate course
+these joys, this peacefulness, this hope? Here are not the anxieties,
+nor perplexities, nor fears, nor losses attendant upon the occupations
+in the more crowded haunts of business. Plenty fills his garners;
+happiness attends his footsteps; peace crowns his life.
+
+We would that this good soul might truly represent every farmer on our
+soil. We are compelled to acknowledge the shortcomings of this class of
+persons, upon whom so much depends, and, by showing in which direction
+their prominent faults lie, endeavor to persuade them to accept a better
+standing in the social state, where they are so much needed.
+
+A man shows in his daily acts the early education of his home. The
+impressions there made upon him in his young and growing life are
+proverbially deep and abiding. The circumstances which develop the
+character of the good farmer in one town, are the circumstances which
+develop the good farmer wheresoever he may be; but the circumstances
+which make so many of our farmers at this day, coarse in speech, vulgar
+in manners, untidy in dress and in the arrangement of their farms and
+their habitations, ignorant, thoughtless, thriftless, indifferent,
+wasteful, lazy, are not arbitrary circumstances, but pliant and
+yielding, willing instruments, in the hands of good workmen, to raise,
+elevate, and instruct all who can be brought within their influence.
+
+The agriculturist who combines with his knowledge and skill in farming a
+refined taste for the simple elegancies which may form a part and parcel
+of every well-ordered homestead, will often grieve at the neglect,
+indolence, and ignorance, shown by the too sad condition of many of our
+so-called American farms.
+
+The farmhouse of this waste place we call a farm, is located as near as
+possible to the dusty highway which passes through the country.
+Unpainted, or unwhitewashed, without a front fence, without shade trees
+or flowers near it, or by it, it stands like a grim and sombre sentinel,
+guarding a harsh and lonely existence, at once a prophecy and a warning.
+There is no home feeling in it. Everything connected with the internal
+movements or the external management of the place is in full view: the
+woodpile with its chips scattered about over a radius of fifty yards; a
+number of old, castaway, and condemned vehicles lie where they were left
+after their last use; mounds of rubbish and old brushwood, weeds, soiled
+clothing, farming tools, and implements of husbandry, are here and
+there, uncared for, unnoticed, and neglected. The poultry, pigs, and
+cattle he possesses, wander about the door, at once front and rear, or,
+unobstructed by any serviceable fence, trespass upon the newly planted
+field or unmown meadows, getting such living as fortune places in their
+way. The barn may be without doors, the barnyard without a gate or bars,
+and in full view from every passer by. The sty and the house drain--in
+fact, every necessary out-building--is in plain sight to the public, on
+the sunny side of the house, or as near the front of it as is possible
+for circumstances to permit. The airs of summer and of autumn come to
+the delighted senses of the residents 'impregnated with the incense' of
+these sweet surroundings, which, like Gray's unseen flower, are not
+destined
+
+  'To waste their sweetness on the desert air.'
+
+And who are the delighted occupants of this charming spot? The external
+appearance and condition of things too sadly betray their character. The
+man is coarse and vulgar in speech and in manners; untidy, careless, and
+uncleanly in person and dress; ignorant, lazy, and perhaps intemperate,
+with no thought beyond the gratification of his bodily wants and
+desires. Slang words and obscene are his daily vocabulary; selfishness
+his best-developed trait, and want the only incentive for his labor. His
+partner is like unto him, or worse, either by nature or association.
+Without taste, modesty, good sense, or natural refinement, she
+accompanies her dear Silas in his round of life, sympathizing in his
+lowness, his common feeling, and his common complaints--slatternly in
+her dress, rude in speech, coarse in manner, slovenly in her household
+duties. These two creatures, with their children, too often call
+themselves farmers, agriculturists, or tillers of the soil. The poet
+Cowper well describes them in his poem representing 'the country boors'
+gathered together at tithing time at the residence of their country
+parson.
+
+These thriftless people complain that they can make no money on their
+farms, and but barely a living; and for the very good reason that the
+man or woman who attempts to carry on a farm in this way through the
+year deserves no money or profit, nor barely a living from such a method
+of work.
+
+He was born here. The new soil, at the time his father purchased it,
+gave him a living, and a good one, too; but this heir to the ancestral
+acres unfortunately married the slatternly daughter of a loafing
+neighbor, and their conservatism will not allow them to vary from the
+track of cultivation so well worn by his father, and forbids his
+learning any other methods, or accepting any new ideas from any source,
+though they may be sustained in the practical advantage gained thereby
+by the most successful farmers in his town, and may be learned any time
+from the Weekly agricultural gazette published at the capital of his
+State.
+
+Book farming he scouts. The books upon agriculture, which every good
+farmer should read and study, and prove, will cost him perhaps ten
+dollars. By them his farm shall become his pride, his support, his
+wealth. But this dull man cannot, or will not, learn that in the
+dreaminess of his humdrum life, passed for thirty years or more upon his
+farm, capital, industry, science, thought, and study have been at work,
+and everything has been done, thus far, which can be done to make the
+earth more gladsome, and the hearts of the children of men more thankful
+to the Giver and Bestower of all our blessings. Away, then, with this
+cant, prejudice, and sneering about 'book farming.' As well cry out
+against book geography, or book philosophy, or book history, or book
+law. Chemistry, botany, entomology, and pomology unite the results of
+their researches in their various directions, and, while seeking
+apparently different ends, yet converge toward the grand centre of a
+systematic and scientific agriculture.
+
+This laggard has not yet learned that it is his business and duty to
+cultivate the earth, and not exhaust it; to get two blades of grass this
+year where but one blade grew before; to gather thirty bushels of corn
+from the acre which produced but twenty bushels last year; to shear
+three pounds of wool off the sheep which five years ago gave but two
+pounds, and so on. He thinks to see how near the agricultural wind he
+can move and his sails not shake, or with how little labor he can carry
+his farm through the year and not starve. The poverty of the whole
+establishment, man and wife, and children, and stock, their
+uncleanliness and unhealthfulness, are but the just results of such a
+mode of living. They have their deserts. 'Ye cannot gather grapes of
+thorns, nor figs of thistles.'
+
+This illustration may seem exaggerated, the example too extreme. We
+would that its semblance could not be seen in all wide America.
+
+What power, what influences, or what teachings will work the change in
+the habits of life of those who thus pretend to cultivate the earth?
+What shall bring them to a clearer realization of their position, their
+duties, their opportunities, their prospects? This lethargy of
+ignorance, indifference, and laziness must be shaken off and laid aside
+in the immediate future, by study and education, by active interest and
+participation in every discovery or invention which benefits
+agriculture; by the exercise of sound judgment in the choice of stock or
+crops for the farm; by economy in the disposition of everything
+available upon the estate which may be brought into profitable employ;
+by thrift in every operation which concerns the success of the vocation
+as tillers of the soil, and by temperance and frugality in the habits
+and character of the family living. 'Concentrate your labor, not
+scatter it; estimate duly the superior profit of a little farm well
+tilled, over a great farm half cultivated and half manured, overrun with
+weeds, and scourged with exhausting crops: so we shall fill our barns,
+double the winter fodder for our cattle and sheep, by the products of
+these waste meadows. Thus shall our cultivation become like that of
+England, more systematic, scientific, and exact.'
+
+An Englishman belies one of the best traits of his national character if
+he denies himself all participation in rural life. It is a part of
+greatness to seek a gratification of this innate longing for 'the
+pursuit which is most conducive to virtue and happiness.' Edmund Burke,
+the patriotic and most philosophical statesman of England, writing to a
+friend in 1798, says:
+
+     'I have just made a push, with all I could collect of my own and
+     the aid of my friends, to cast a little root in the country. I have
+     purchased about six hundred acres of land in Buckinghamshire, about
+     twenty-four miles from London. It is a place exceedingly pleasant,
+     and I propose, God willing, to become a farmer in good earnest.'
+
+Great skill, ingenuity, and success in cattle breeding, and in drainage,
+have resulted, in England, from a long series of experiments, extending
+through many years; and great and wonderful progress in the discovery
+and analysis of soils and manures. The scientific men of France and
+Germany have also added much to this invaluable information of how to
+get more bread and meat from the earth, and do much, in their researches
+in the direction of pomology and entomology, to increase the
+agricultural knowledge of the world. America gladly tenders her most
+gracious homage to these devoted men, and hastens to add her leaf to the
+chaplet which binds their brow. It is to their persistent efforts, to
+their unshaken faith, that 'agriculture has become elevated to the
+dignity of a science.'
+
+This vocation of farming in good earnest, with success and profit, is
+not fun, but downright work. It is work, but no more persistent,
+constant, studious, or thoughtful than that which is demanded by any of
+the other callings in life, none of which has or can have such
+delightful compensations as this. Careful experiments should be made in
+chemistry, analyzing thereby each germ, plant, flower, and fruit into
+its component parts; analyzing the soil of our farms, and learning
+thereby its various wants, its value, and what crop it will best
+support, and of which it will give the largest yield; teaching us what
+manures are the most valuable, how prepared, and how to be used for the
+greatest profit. Botany and entomology can unite their labors and
+discover the germs and development of our grasses, and the insects which
+feed upon and destroy them; ornithology will teach us the habits of
+birds, and their value to us as protectors of our gardens and fields;
+and pomology will instruct us in the culture of fruit. Thus shall
+science and philosophy enlarge their duties and help the farmer in his
+devotion to his noble work. The public press shall herald far and wide
+each new discovery, each new suggestion, and the results of each new
+experiment, not in the technical language of the schools, but clothed in
+the simplest vernacular, which alone can make such study valuable to
+practical men.
+
+Heretofore too much attention has been paid to the 'bread-producing
+capacity' of our country, to the neglect of its as necessary
+'meat-producing capacity.' Hence much of our best bread-producing soil
+is becoming exhausted. The old tenants are leaving their once fertile
+fields, now poor in soil yielding comparatively nothing, and are
+emigrating to the West, beyond the banks of the Mississippi and Missouri
+rivers, trusting that the natural richness of the 'new hunting grounds'
+they seek and find is inexhaustible. This policy has made barren most
+of the State of Virginia, and has begun to tell sadly, in the diminished
+crops, upon the farming districts of Ohio, Indiana, and the other near
+Western States.
+
+To be the successful introducer in a new country of a new and improved
+breed of cattle, requires capital, sound judgment, study, and patient
+toil. Much must be considered with reference to the peculiarities of the
+soil and climate, and of the animals, with regard to the object for
+which they are needed, whether the dairy, the plough, or the shambles.
+Happily, America is not without men whose wealth, intelligence, tastes,
+and sagacity have enabled them to perceive our present wants in this
+respect, and who have assisted in preparing for them. The great wealth
+of these gentlemen has been well expended in the outlay and risk
+attending the extensive and valuable importations of the best breeding
+cattle and sheep which they have made into this country from time to
+time from England and the continent of Europe. We are already reaping
+the advantages of the presence of the valuable animals embraced in these
+numerous importations. Scattered as they are throughout the country,
+infusing the best blood of Europe's choicest stock into our 'natives,'
+they so improve our cattle and sheep as to raise them to the highest
+degree of excellence and value. It is a circumstance of which every
+American may be proud, that Mr. Thorne has been so successful in
+breeding, from his imported stock, cattle which he has sent to England,
+and which have there borne off the prize as the best breeders in the
+world.
+
+There are no indigenous breeds of either cattle or sheep in this
+country. The only animals of the bovine race found here when this
+continent was discovered were the buffalo and the musk ox. The 'natives'
+are a heterogenous mixture of various breeds, introduced from time to
+time for different purposes, and allowed to cross and recross, breed
+in-and-in, and mingle as chance or convenience dictated. The cattle and
+sheep were procured at different times from the continent of Europe,
+from England, and the Spanish West Indies, to supply the present wants
+of labor and food. The first cattle brought here are said to have been
+introduced by Columbus. The Spaniards afterward brought over others,
+from whence no doubt sprang the wild cattle of Texas and California.
+About the year 1553, the Portuguese took cattle to Newfoundland, of
+which, however, no traces now remain; and in the year 1600, Norman
+cattle were brought into Canada. In the year 1611, Sir Thomas Gates
+brought from Devonshire and Hertfordshire one hundred head of cattle
+into Jamestown; and thirteen years later, Thomas Winslow imported a bull
+and three heifers into Massachusetts. Thus was begun the importation of
+cattle for service and food into this country, which has continued to
+this day, not always, however, with the just discrimination as to the
+geographical and climatic peculiarities of the different animals which
+was and is necessary for the highest success of the movement. Happily,
+the various agricultural societies and publications, contributed to and
+supported by our most intelligent farmers, are diffusing wider and
+wider, each year, more scientific and thorough notions upon this subject
+of breeding, among our agricultural citizens. An admirable and carefully
+written article upon 'Select Breeds of Cattle and their Adaptation to
+the United States,' appeared in the United States Patent Office Report
+for 1861, to which we would call our readers' attention. It should be
+studied by every person interested in the economical prosperity of our
+country. It conveys, in a simple and perspicuous style, the results of
+the various experiments in breeding, in both England and America, which
+latterly have become so judicious and accurate as to be now almost based
+upon principle. Hereafter there will be no apology, but that of
+stupidity and ignorance, for the farmers who neglect the most obvious
+rules of success in their occupation. The idea, now become well known,
+must become a fact with them, and they must raise no more poor horses or
+cattle or sheep, because it costs no more to raise good ones, which are
+much more profitable either for the dairy, for service, or for meat.
+
+'Animals are to be looked upon as machines for converting herbage into
+money,' says Daniel Webster. 'The great fact to be considered is, how
+can we manage our farms so as to produce the largest crops, and still
+keep up the condition of our land, and, if possible, place it in course
+of gradual improvement? The success must depend in a great degree upon
+the animals raised and supported on the farm.'
+
+It is auspicious for our country that the interest in sheep raising is
+becoming wider and deeper. 'The value of wool imported into the United
+States, in 1861 was nearly five millions of dollars. The value of
+imported manufactured woollen goods was more than twenty-eight millions
+of dollars, less by nearly ten millions of dollars than the importations
+of 1860. Taking the last three years as a basis of calculation, we have
+had an annual importation of from thirty-five to forty-five millions of
+pounds of manufactured and unmanufactured wool, being the product of
+thirteen millions of sheep.' The annual increase of population in the
+United States requires the wool from more than three million sheep.
+There is an annual deficiency of wool of from forty to fifty millions of
+pounds, so there need be no fear of glutting the market by our own
+production. The investigation might be extended much further. It remains
+for the farmers and legislators to see to it that we receive no
+detriment by the long continuance of this home demand without the home
+supply. The instrument is in their own hands.
+
+Our farmers must teach their children the potential influence of
+kindness to dumb animals and to birds. By it they will conquer what of
+viciousness, ugliness, or wildness is often the character of their
+beasts of burden; and they will find, by the almost total eradication of
+the destructive flies and insects which are the scourge of their crops,
+the value of the lives of birds and toads to their farms. Setting aside
+for the present the consideration of the moral virtues which are thus
+inculcated, and which are so consistent with a proper devotion to this
+'benign art of peace,' we mention a few facts which carry the argument
+for their worth in themselves.
+
+The birds and toads devour insects, worms, and grubs, and wherever they
+are absent, grubs, worms, and insects are greatly multiplied, and the
+crops suffer. The harvests of France, in 1861, suffered so by the
+ravages of the insects which it is the function of certain birds to
+destroy, that the subject attracted the notice of the Government, and a
+commission was appointed to inquire into the matter and report what
+legislation was expedient. The commission had the aid of the experience
+of the best naturalists of France, M. St. Hilaire, M. Prevost, and
+others. Their preliminary report gives three classifications of birds:
+First, those which live exclusively upon insects and grubs; second,
+those which live partly upon grubs and partly upon grain, doing some
+damage, but providing an abundant compensation; third, the birds of
+prey, which are excepted from the category of benefactors, and are
+pronounced to be noxious, inasmuch as they live mostly upon the smaller
+birds. If the arrangements of nature were left wholly undisturbed, the
+result would be a wholesome equilibrium of destruction. The birds would
+kill so many insects that the insects could not kill too many plants.
+One class is a match for the other. A certain insect was found to lay
+two thousand eggs, but a single tomtit was found to eat two hundred
+thousand eggs a year. A swallow devours about five hundred insects a
+day, eggs and all. A sparrow's nest in the city of Paris was found to
+contain seven hundred pairs of the upper wings of cockchafers. It is
+easy to see what an excess of insect life is produced when a
+counterpoise like this is withdrawn; and the statistics collected show
+clearly to what an extent the balance of nature has been disturbed. Thus
+the value of wheat destroyed in a single season, in one department of
+the east of France, by the _cicidomigie_, has been estimated at eight
+hundred thousand dollars.
+
+The cause of this is very soon told. The French eat the birds. The
+commissioners, in their report, present some curious statistics
+respecting the extent to which the destruction of birds in France has of
+late been carried. They state 'that there are great numbers of
+professional huntsmen, who are accustomed to kill from one hundred to
+two hundred birds daily; a single child has been known to come home at
+night with one hundred birds' eggs; and it is also calculated and
+reported that the number of birds' eggs destroyed annually in France is
+between eighty millions and one hundred millions. The result is that the
+small birds in that country are actually dying out; some species have
+already disappeared, while others are rapidly diminishing.' These facts
+contain valuable suggestions to our own countrymen. In this instance, as
+in many such like, observation is a better and more profitable master
+than experience.
+
+Our farmers can increase the value of their estates, and bring pleasure
+and peace to their homes, by more special attention to the outward
+adornment of their dwellings; by cultivating a garden, planting orchards
+of the best selected fruit, and trees for shade, shelter, and ornament,
+about their farms and along the adjoining highway. He who plants a tree,
+thereby gives hostages to life, but he who cuts one down needlessly, is
+a Vandal, and deserves the execration of every honest man for all time.
+Learn not to value the bearded elm, 'the murmuring pines and the
+hemlocks,' the stalwart oak, or the beautiful maple, by cubic measure,
+but by the 'height of the great argument' they force upon us by their
+presence, their beauty, and their power. Plant for to-day, and for your
+children; plant 'for another age,' and thereby do 'a good office' to the
+coming generations of men. No man but is better for living in the
+presence of great trees. In one of those most delightful volumes of the
+_Spectator_, we find a paper, written by the pure and noble Joseph
+Addison, in which are well told the pleasures and profits of planting:
+'It must,' he says, 'be confessed that this is none of those turbulent
+pleasures which are apt to gratify a man in the heats of youth; but if
+it be not so tumultuous, it is more lasting. Nothing can be more
+delightful than to entertain ourselves with prospects of our own making,
+and to walk under those shades which our own industry has raised.
+Amusements of this nature compose the mind, and lay at rest all those
+passions which are uneasy to the soul of man, besides that they
+naturally engender good thoughts, and dispose us to laudable
+contemplations.'
+
+What charming associations linger about the homes of the great men of
+our history, whose tastes led them into the country! The grand old trees
+at 'Monticello,' at 'Ashland,' at 'Fort Hill,' at the 'Hermitage,' at
+'Sunnyside,' at Cooperstown, at Marshfield, at Mount Vernon, seem to
+take upon themselves somewhat of 'the voice of the old hospitality'
+which graced their presence in the days that are passed; and the visitor
+now wanders with emotions of awe and sadness, in paths by copses and
+groves and streams, in those quiet retreats of nature, planted and
+preserved by the noble souls which loved them so wisely and so well.
+
+Place the dwelling at a distance from the road, and in the position, if
+possible, from whence the best view of the whole farm can be obtained,
+mindful also of the charms which nature has spread before you, of
+mountain, or hill, or plain, or river, or sea. Plant the orchard on a
+slope toward the south, and not too far away. The barn and yard and
+outbuildings should be behind the house, or far enough away to protect
+the inmates from any annoyance therefrom. Let the approach to the house
+be by a long avenue, bordered by majestic trees, planted by your own
+hands. The lawn or garden should be well cared for in front. The
+buildings should be painted or whitewashed, and over the house may
+clamber and beautify it the woodbine, the jessamine, the honeysuckle, or
+the rose. What attachments to the homestead shall thus inweave
+themselves about the hearts of those whose interests and life are cast
+with it--and still more, of those who go forth from it, by taste,
+inclination, or bias, into the more bustling centres of competition and
+trade!
+
+The garden should receive a careful and generous attention from the
+female portion of the household. Says Lord Bacon: 'God Almighty first
+planted a garden; and indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is
+the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man; without which buildings
+and palaces are but gross handyworks; and a man shall ever see that when
+ages grow to civility and elegance, men come to build stately sooner
+than to garden finely; as if gardening were the greater perfection. I do
+hold it in the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be gardens for
+all the months in the year; in which severally things of beauty may be
+there in season.'
+
+Following Lord Bacon's advice, let there be such a plan and arrangement
+of it, that it shall always be attractive, and yield a continual round
+of beauty through the year. Thus planted, the garden 'will inspire the
+purest and most refined pleasures, and cannot fail to promote every good
+affection.'
+
+With all the advantages which the discoveries of natural science offer
+to the farmer of this century, it will little avail his successors
+unless he strives to educate his children. It is a very mistaken and
+lamentable notion--now, alas! too prevalent--that a liberal education is
+necessary alone to those who intend to enter upon a professional life.
+May the time be not far distant when farming may become a profession
+which takes its rank with the rest, if it does not lead them, in the
+public opinion. It was first supposed, very singularly, that the clergy
+ought only to be favored with an education in science and the classics;
+afterward the legal profession arose to sufficient dignity for it; and
+finally the physician, the guardian of our health, the student and
+philosopher of our bodies, arose to his noble position in the affairs of
+this life; while the agriculturist, the supporter of all we have or wish
+for here, the basis of our very civilization, is pushed aside or
+forgotten, and the demand upon him for the best culture of the earth
+altogether neglected. We have to congratulate ourselves that our
+Government has left it with each State by itself, whether, by the
+non-acceptance of its gift of public land as foundations for
+agricultural colleges, they will longer forego the opportunity of giving
+our young farmers a thorough scientific agricultural education. Until
+such a system of study can be arranged, let the farmers themselves
+commence the work of self-education. Agricultural societies and farmers'
+clubs, in which are gathered together the best farmers of the States,
+offer the best opportunity for intercommunication, thorough discussion
+and observation, and dissemination of all new discoveries, facts, or
+theories which may be made beneficial to all. These are the only means
+by which farmers can compare opinions and found sound judgments for
+their future labors. What would be the financial condition of the other
+great economical interests, if merchants and owners never consulted
+together, nor marked the course and policy for their mutual guidance?
+The best agricultural papers and magazines which favor each farmer's
+peculiar interest, whether of stock, or fruit, or dairy, or grain,
+should be subscribed for and read, and preserved for future reference.
+Our best farmers can do a great deal, by contributing facts of their own
+knowledge, to raise the standard and worth of such periodicals. It only
+needs the feeling of personal interest in this matter to procure for
+each farmer whatever books are necessary to a perfect understanding of
+his special work. They must soon learn that the education of their
+children is the best investment they can make of the value of their
+services.
+
+They should be taught, by example, by reading, and observation, the
+general success in life of those who plant and water and reap; and the
+general failure of those who attempt to gain an early or a late fortune
+in money by entering the marts of more active and more crowded
+competition. Most men fail to make the fortunes which the dreams of
+youth placed before them in such brilliant colors. In the present
+condition of the various professions, except farming, they only succeed
+whom fortune favors by special mental gifts or special personal
+friendships.
+
+The peace, quiet, and contentment of a cheerful home; the charms of
+nature, free, unobstructed, lovely; the generous bestowal of an
+'unostentatious hospitality;' the patient spirit of him who waits upon
+the accustomed return of the seasons; the attachment, the joy and
+pleasure of looking upon the broad acres, the shaded walks, the
+beautiful landscape, planted, improved, and protected by his own hand;
+the herds of favorite cattle and sheep which love his coming, the kindly
+tones of his voice, the gentle stroke of his hand; the respect paid by
+friends and neighbors to the venerable man who waits only the
+termination of a virtuous life; the faith in 'the sacred covenant, that
+while the earth remaineth, sunshine and shower, summer and winter,
+seed-time and harvest shall not fail,' are his who lives through long
+years devoted to this, rightly followed, noblest of all
+occupations--farming.
+
+'He that goeth forth in humility, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless
+come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.'
+
+
+
+
+APHORISMS.
+
+NO. IV.
+
+
+Innovations in religion are very commonly deprecated; but there is one
+in practice which might very safely be attempted, i.e., to _obey_ the
+gospel. This has been seldom done, even among those that bear the
+Christian name. How few, even among the members of churches, do really
+mould their lives from day to day by the teachings of our Lord and his
+disciples!
+
+This same thought may be presented in another form. Let us remark, then,
+that while the true teachings of religion are found in the Bible, yet a
+new edition of them seems wanted, viz., the actual obedience of those
+that adopt them as their creed and rule of life. To make these doctrines
+manifest in the lives of any considerable number among men, would give
+them a power such as they have rarely had.
+
+We have had a great many translations of the Holy Scriptures; the best
+of all would be their translation into the daily practice of Christian
+people.
+
+
+
+
+THE WILD AZALEA.
+
+A MEMORY OF THE HIGHLANDS.
+
+
+  Up on the hills where the young trees grow,
+  Looking down on the fields below--
+  Long-leaved chestnuts and maples low;
+  Up where lingereth late the sun,
+  When the soft spring day is nearly done,
+    Dying away in the west;
+  Up where the poplar's silver stem
+  Bends by the marsh's grass-fringed hem,
+    By the soft May wind caressed;
+
+  Up where the long, slim shadows fall
+  From the scarlet oak and the pepperidge tall,
+  Where the birds and the squirrels tirelessly call,
+  Where in autumn the flowers of the gentian blue
+  Look up with their eyes so dark and true,
+    Up into the hazy sky,
+  Dreaming away as the red leaves drop,
+  And the acorn falls from its deep brown cup,
+    And the yellow leaves float by;
+
+  Up where the violets, white and blue,
+  Bloom in sunshine and the dew,
+  Tenderly living their still life through,
+  Where the deep-cut leaves of the liverwort grow,
+  And the great white flowers of the dogwood blow
+    Over the pale anemones;--
+  Cometh a perfume spicily shed
+  From the wild Azalea's full-wreathed head
+    Lifted among the trees.
+
+  There where the sun-flecked shadows lie,
+  Quivering light as the breeze laughs by,
+  And the leaves all dance 'neath the soft spring sky;
+  Blossoming bright when the twigs grow green,
+  And the sunlight falls with a tenderer sheen
+    Than comes with the summer noon,
+  Blossoming bright where the laurel gleams,
+  Lifting its sculptured flowers to the beams
+    Of the warm, glad sun of June.
+
+  And so it smiles to itself all day,
+  Where it stands alone by the mountain way,
+  Hearing the merry young leaves at play;
+  And soft on the stones its smile is cast,
+  And it laughs with the wind as it saunters past,
+    The fresh, young wind of May:
+  And happily thus it lives its life
+  Till the woods with sounds of summer are rife,
+    When it silently passes away.
+
+  And once again to the hills we go,
+  When the sun shines warm on the fields below
+  Where the midsummer lilies are all aglow,
+  When shadows are thicker, and scarcely the breeze
+  Stirs a leaf on the gleaming poplar trees,
+    And low are the streamlet's tones;
+  For the bright Azalea we look in vain,
+  And long for its smile to gladden again
+    Our hearts and the old gray stones.
+
+
+
+
+A PAIR OF STOCKINGS.
+
+FROM THE ARMY.
+
+
+Kate was sitting by the window. I was sitting beside her. It may be well
+to state here that Kate was a young lady, and that I am a young
+gentleman. Kate had large, lustrous dark eyes, which just then were
+covered with fringed, drooping eyelashes. She had braids of dark hair
+wreathed around her head, a soft pink color in her cheeks, and a rosebud
+mouth, womanly, fresh, and lovely. Kate was clad in a pink muslin dress,
+with a tiny white ruffle around her white throat. She was armed with
+four steely needles, which were so many bright arrows that pierced my
+heart through and through. Over her fingers glided a small blue thread,
+which proceeded from the ball of yarn I held in my hand.
+
+Kate was knitting a stocking, and surely, irrevocably she was taking me
+captive; already I felt myself entangled by those small threads.
+
+We were the inmates of a boarding house. Kate was a new boarder. I had
+known her but a few weeks.
+
+The evening was warm, and I took up a palm-leaf fan, and fanned her. She
+thanked me. I looked at her white hands, gliding in and out under the
+blue yarn; there were no rings on those fingers. I thought how nicely
+one would look upon that ring finger--a tiny gold circlet, with two
+hearts joined upon it, and on the inside two names written--hers and
+mine. Then I thought of Kate as my wife, always clad in a pink muslin
+dress, always with her hair in just such glossy braids, and knitting
+stockings to the end of time.
+
+'Kate shall be my wife,' I said to myself, in rash pride, as I fanned
+her more energetically. I did not know that the way to a woman's heart
+was more intricate than a labyrinth; but I had the clue in the blue yarn
+which I held in my hand. I little knew what I undertook. Kate was shy as
+a wild deer, timid as a fawn, with an atmosphere of reserve about her
+which one could not well break through.
+
+'For whom are you knitting those stockings, Miss Kate?' I asked.
+
+'For a soldier, Mr. Armstrong,' she replied, her eye kindling with
+patriotism.
+
+'If I will be one of the Home Guards, and stay and take care of you,
+will you knit me a pair?'
+
+'Never. I feel abundantly able to take care of myself. I wish you would
+enlist, Mr. Armstrong. When you do, I will knit you a pair.'
+
+'It would be almost worth the sacrifice,' I replied.
+
+'Sacrifice! Would you sacrifice yourself for a pair of stockings? Have
+you not patriotism enough to offer yourself upon the altar of your
+country? If I were a man, I would enlist in a moment, though I had ten
+thousand a year, and a wife and seven children.'
+
+I will confess to you, gentle reader, that I was not such a craven as I
+appeared. The fires of patriotism were smouldering in my bosom, and I
+needed only a spark from Kate's hand to light them into life and action.
+Kate rose and left the room, her cheek glowing with spirit, and I sat
+and fanned the chair where she had sat, for a few moments. It was too
+bad to break up the delicious _tête-à-tête_ so soon.
+
+I lingered in the parlor after the gas was lighted, but she did not
+come. I put on my hat, and went out. I would enlist. I had meant to do
+so all along. I had managed my business in reference to it--the only
+drawback was the thought of Kate. How pleasant it would be to remind her
+of her promise, and ask her for the stockings and herself with them!
+Visions of tender partings and interesting letters floated around me at
+the thought.
+
+There was a meeting in Tremont Temple in aid of recruiting. Flags hung
+drooping from the ceiling, bands of music were in attendance in the
+galleries, and distinguished and eloquent speakers occupied the
+platform. I do not think their eloquence had much to do with my action,
+for I had resolved beforehand. I went forward at the close of the
+meeting, and signed my name to the roll as a Massachusetts volunteer. A
+pair of hands in the gallery began the thunder of applause that greeted
+the act. I looked up; Kate was there, clapping enthusiastically. But who
+was that tall fellow in uniform by her side, with a tremendous mustache,
+and eyes which flashed brighter than her own? He, then, was the soldier
+for whom she was knitting the stockings. The rest of the meeting was a
+blank to me.
+
+I watched, and followed them to the door of the boarding house. I hid
+myself behind a lamp post, as they paused on the steps. She turned
+toward him, her face all aglow with feeling.
+
+'Good by, Frank. Take good care of yourself. I'm glad to have you
+enlist, but so sorry to lose you,' and tears trembled in her eyes.
+
+'Good by, Kate, darling; and after the war is over, I will come home and
+take care of my bird,' and he turned away.
+
+'Stop Frank!'
+
+'Well, birdie?'
+
+'Those are not fit words to dismiss a soldier with. Here, I'll give you
+a watchword. Think of it, Frank:
+
+"Never give up! though the grapeshot may rattle
+  Or the thick thunder cloud over you burst,
+Stand like a rock! in the storm or the battle,
+  Little shall harm you, though doing their worst!"
+
+'Brave words, Kate. You deserve a kiss for them.' It was given. I turned
+away in desperation, and walked onward, not caring where I went.
+Policemen watched me, but the lateness of the hour made no difference to
+me. I could have walked all night. At length I came to a bridge. The
+moon was shining upon the rippling water. It looked cold and dark,
+except where the ripples were. There would be a plunge, and then the
+water would flow on over my head. Why not? I did not know I had loved
+her with such devotion. It was all over now. She belonged to another. My
+foot was on the rail. I thought then of the name I had signed to the
+roll. 'No, Jacob Armstrong, you have no right to take the life which
+you have given to your country.' I turned away toward my boarding place,
+full of bitterness and despair. A tiny glove was on the stairs. I picked
+it up and pressed it passionately to my lips, and cursed myself for the
+act as I threw it down again.
+
+The days that followed were weary enough. I made arrangements for my
+departure with all possible speed. I avoided Kate, and was cold and
+haughty in my salutations. I am very dignified naturally. I can be an
+iceberg in human shape when I wish. One evening I went into the parlor
+before tea, and took up a newspaper. Kate came in. I put on my dignity,
+and tried to be interested in politics, though I could think of nothing
+but the dainty figure opposite, and the gleaming needles in her hands. I
+struggled with the passionate, bitter feelings that rose at the sight of
+her, and was calm and cold.
+
+'I am glad you have enlisted, Mr. Armstrong, she said.
+
+'Thank you,' I replied stiffly.
+
+'I suppose you are very busy making preparations?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'And you are going soon?'
+
+'I hope so.'
+
+Kate left the room. I wished she was back again a thousand times. How
+kind and shy she looked. If there was a gleam of hope--that tall fellow
+in uniform--no, she might stay away forever. And yet my heart gave a
+great leap as she appeared again.
+
+'I want to show you a photograph, Mr. Armstrong,' she said, blushing and
+smiling. I took it. It was the officer in uniform, with the tremendous
+mustache and flashing eyes.
+
+'It is my brother Frank. Does he look like me?'
+
+I started as if I had been shot.
+
+'Miss Kate, I want to take a walk now, and I should like some company.
+Will you go with me?'
+
+'Hadn't we better have tea first?' she said, smiling. 'The bell has just
+rung.'
+
+I do not know how that tea passed off, whether we had jumbles or
+muffins, whether I drank tea or cold water; but I knew that opposite me
+sat Kate, radiant in pink muslin, and when the interminable tea was
+over, we were going to take a walk together. I was thinking what I
+should say. I am generally a sociable and genial man, and it seems to me
+that on this particular evening I was assaulted with a storm of
+questions and remarks.
+
+'Don't you think so, Mr. Armstrong?' asked the lady on my right, the
+lady on my left, and the gentleman in black at the end of the table. I
+aimed monosyllables at them promiscuously, and have at present no means
+of knowing whether they fitted the questions and remarks or not.
+
+In the midst of a mental speech, I was vigorously assaulted by Mary, the
+table girl, and, looking about me in surprise, I caught a glimpse of the
+boardinghouse cat just disappearing through the door:
+
+'And sure, Mr. Armstrong, yer must be blind. The blow was intended for
+the cat, and she had her paw in yer plate.'
+
+Perhaps you do not know how pleasant it is to take a walk with a little
+gloved hand resting upon your arm, little feet keeping step with yours,
+and a soft voice chiming in with everything you say. I was happy on that
+particular night. We walked on the Common. The stars shone, and the long
+branches of the old elms swayed to and fro in the moonlight, as we
+passed under them. It was just the time and place that I liked.
+
+'Miss Kate,' I began, 'in a few days I shall be far away from home and
+friends, amid danger and death, fighting the battles of my country. I
+have known you but a short time; but that time has been long enough to
+show me that I love you with my whole soul. I offer my hand and heart to
+you. May I not hope that you will sometimes think of the soldier--that
+I may carry your heart with me?'
+
+'I think you may hope,' she replied, gently; 'but this is very sudden. I
+will give you a final answer to-morrow morning.'
+
+When we got home, we went into the dining room, and I helped her to a
+glass of ice water, and hoped she would linger there a moment; but she
+was shy, and bade me a kind good night. I didn't know till the next
+morning what she was about the rest of the evening; when she met me on
+the stairs, placed a small parcel in my hands, saying:
+
+'My answer, Mr. Armstrong,' and was off like a fawn.
+
+I opened it, and saw the stockings, blue, and warm and soft. A note was
+stitched in the toe of one of them:
+
+     MY DEAR FRIEND: I said I was knitting the stockings for a soldier.
+     I began them, with a patriotic impulse, for no one in particular. I
+     finished them last night, and knit loving thoughts of you in with
+     every stitch, I have always liked you, but I do not think I should
+     have given you my hand if you had not enlisted. I love you, but I
+     love my country more. I give you the stockings. When you wear them,
+     I hope you will sometimes think of her who fashioned them, and who
+     gives herself to you with them. Yours, KATE.
+
+I reverently folded the tiny note, after having committed it to memory,
+and repeated its contents to myself all the way to my office, beginning
+with 'Mr. Armstrong,' and ending with 'Yours, Kate.' I was in a state of
+extreme beatification. Kate was mine, noble girl! She loved me, and yet
+was willing to give me up for her country's cause. And I began to repeat
+the note to myself again, when, on a crossing, I was accosted by a
+biped, commonly known as a small boy:
+
+'Mister, yer stocking is sticking out of yer pocket.'
+
+I turned calmly around, and addressed him:
+
+'Boy, I glory in those stockings. I am willing that the universe should
+behold them. My destiny is interwoven with them. Every stitch is
+instinct with life and love.'
+
+'Don't see it, mister! Glory, hallelujah!' and he ended his speech by
+making an exclamation point of himself, by standing on his head--a very
+bad practice for small boys. I advise all precocious youngsters, who may
+read this article, to avoid such positions.
+
+We broke camp, and started off in high spirits. I paraded through the
+streets with a bouquet of rosebuds on my bayonet. I found a note among
+them afterward, more fragrant than they.
+
+When our regiment left Boston, it went from Battery Wharf. I went on
+board the Merrimac. Kate could not pass the lines, and stationed herself
+in a vessel opposite, where we could look at each other. I aimed a
+rosebud at her; it fell into the green water, and floated away. The
+second and third were more successful. She pressed one to her lips and
+threw it back again; the other she kept. Afterward, with the practical
+forethought which forms a part of her character, she bought out an apple
+woman, and stormed me with apples. The vessel left the wharf, and I
+looked back with eyes fast growing dim, and watched the figure on the
+dock, bravely waving her white handkerchief as long as I could see.
+
+Well, it is hard for a man to leave home and friends, and all that he
+holds dear; but I do not regret it, though I have to rough it now. I am
+writing now beside a bivouac made of poles and cornstalks. My desk is a
+rude bench. I have just finished my dinner of salt junk and potatoes. On
+my feet is that pair of stockings. Profanity and almost every vice
+abounds; there are temptations all around me, but pure lips have
+promised to pray for me, and I feel that I shall be shielded and
+guarded, and kept uncontaminated, true to my 'north star,' which shines
+so brightly to me--true to my country and my God.
+
+
+
+
+LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+     SORDELLO, STRAFFORD, CHRISTMAS EVE, AND EASTER DAY. By ROBERT
+     BROWNING. Boston: Ticknor & Fields.
+
+The contents of this volume, though now first presented to the American
+public, are not the latest of the author's writings. It completes,
+however, Messrs. Ticknor & Fields' reprint of his poetical works. His
+growing popularity calls for the present publication. We would fain
+number ourselves among the admirers of the husband of Elizabeth Barrett;
+the man loved by this truly great poetess, to whom she addressed the
+refined and imaginative tenderness of the 'Portuguese Sonnets?' of whom
+she writes:
+
+'Or from Browning some 'Pomegranate,' which, if cut deep down the
+middle, shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.'
+
+Before the man so loved and honored, we repeat, we would fain bow in
+reverence. But it may not be; we cannot receive him as a _true_ poet--as
+in any poetic quality the peer of his matchless wife. We hear much of
+his subtile psychology--we deem it psychological unintelligibility. His
+rhythm is rough and unmusical, his style harsh and inverted, his imagery
+cold, his invective bitter, and his verbiage immense. His illustrations
+are sometimes coarse, his comparisons diminish rather than increase the
+importance of the ideas to which they are applied. His pages are
+frequently as chaotic as those of Wagner's music; leaf after leaf may be
+turned over in the despairing search for a single crystallized idea.
+Fiery sparks, flying meteors, inchoate masses of nebulous matter are
+around us, but no glass in our possession can resolve them into ordered
+orbs of thought and beauty. If a man have anything to say, why not say
+it in clear, terse, vigorous English, or why use worlds of vigorous
+words to say nothing. Some years ago, one of Browning's books was sent
+for review to Douglas Jerrold, who was then just recovering from an
+attack of brain fever: after reading it for some time, and finding that
+he failed to arrive at any clear idea of the meaning of its lines, he
+began to fear that his brain was again becoming confused, and, handing
+it to his wife with a request that she would look over it in his
+absence, went out to drive. Returning in the evening, his first question
+was: 'Well, my dear, what do you think of Browning's poem?' 'Bother the
+gibberish,' was her indignant reply, 'I can't understand a word of it.'
+'Thank God,' exclaimed Jerrold, clapping his hands to his head
+triumphantly, 'then I am not actually insane.'
+
+
+     DALETH; OR, THE HOMESTEAD OF THE NATIONS. Egypt Illustrated. By
+     EDWARD L. CLARK. Boston: Ticknor & Fields.
+
+A book produced without regard to expense, and of great beauty. Paper
+and print are excellent. Its illustrations are nearly one hundred in
+number. It has both woodcuts and chromo-lithographs exquisitely
+rendered, reproducing the modern scenery and antiquities of Egypt from
+photographs or authentic sources. Mr. Clark writes well, has travelled
+through the land of the Nile, and tries to bring before the minds of his
+readers vivid pictures of primeval times, for which Egypt presents such
+peculiar and valuable materials. Our writer is a scholar as well as a
+traveller, and has added to his personal experience considerable
+research into the authorities from whom many of his facts are derived.
+He is also an enthusiast, and somewhat of an artist, and gives us
+glowing pictures of the strange old land of the Pharaohs. He says:
+'Daleth, the ancient Hebrew letter ([Hebrew: **-j]), signifies a door.
+From whatever country we look back along the pathway of the arts and
+sciences, in the dim distance tower the mighty gateways of Egypt--the
+homestead of the nations--beneath which the rites of religion and the
+blessings of civilization have passed out into the world; and with
+grateful respect we confess that on the banks of the Nile stands the
+true Daleth of the Nations.' This idea forms the clew to the whole book,
+and from hence is derived its title, Daleth. We heartily recommend it to
+our readers. It merits attention. We quote the last sentence of the
+short preface: 'That these fragments of the past may reflect for the
+reader the sunshine they have gathered in three thousand years, is the
+earnest wish of the author.'
+
+
+     THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES, SONGS, SERVICES, AND SPEECHES OF PRIVATE
+     MILES O'REILLY (47th Regiment, New York Volunteers). "The Post of
+     Honor is the Private's Station." With Illustrations by Mullen. From
+     the authentic records of the New York _Herald_. New York: Carleton,
+     publisher, 413 Broadway.
+
+This book had established its reputation before it was issued in book
+form; and will be widely circulated. Our soldiers and sailors, our
+politicians of all parties will read it. It is evidently from the pen of
+one familiar with the varied phases of American life and the public
+service. Many of its songs are full of genuine humor. 'Sambo's Right to
+be Kilt' is excellent. 'The Review: A Picture of our Veterans,' is full
+of pathos. 'Miles' is familiar with Admiral DuPont and the monitors in
+front of Charleston, and is equally at home in Tammany Hall and
+Democratic Conventions. The publisher describes himself as unable to
+supply the rapid demand for the book. It is witty, satirical, and
+humorous; though we occasionally wish for somewhat more refinement.
+
+
+     ELIZA WOODSON; OR, THE EARLY DAYS OF ONE OF THE WORLD'S WORKERS. A
+     Story of American Life. A. J. Davis & Co., 274 Canal street, New
+     York.
+
+We cannot tell our readers, with any degree of certainty, whether the
+tale before us is truth or fiction. It seems to be the simple history of
+an uneventful life, a record rather of the growth of character than an
+attempt to create the fictitious or tragical. If true it has the
+interest of fiction; if fictitious, it has the merit of concealing art
+and closely imitating nature. It contains the inner-life history of a
+deserted and much-abused little girl, from childhood to maturity. It is
+detailed, moral, conscientious, and interesting.
+
+
+     BABBLE BROOK SONGS. By J. H. MCNAUGHTON. Boston: Oliver Ditson &
+     Co.
+
+A volume of original songs and poems. That it comes from the University
+Press is sufficient guarantee of its superb typography. Of these lyrics
+we prefer 'Without the Children.'
+
+
+     RUBINA. New York: James G. Gregory, 46 Walker street.
+
+A close and detailed picture of New England life and character. The poor
+young orphans have a dismal time of it among their hard and coarse
+relatives. The sterner forms of Puritanism are well depicted. The scene
+at the funeral of poor Demis, with its harrowing and denunciatory sermon
+over the corpse of the innocent girl, is powerful and true. The
+character of the 'help,' Debby, is drawn from life, and is admirably
+conceived and sustained. The book is, however, melancholy and
+monotonous. So many young and generous hearts beating themselves forever
+against the sharp stones of the baldest utilitarianism; so many bright
+minds drifting into despair in the surrounding chaos of obstinate,
+stolid, and perverse ignorance! It is a sadder book than 'The Mill on
+the Floss,' of which it reminds us. How the aspiring and imaginative
+must suffer in an atmosphere so cold and blighting!
+
+
+     COUNSEL AND COMFORT: Spoken from a City Pulpit. By the Author of
+     'The Recreations of a Country Parson.' Boston: Ticknor & Fields.
+     1864.
+
+A book truly of good counsel and cheerful comfort. The strong
+personality of the writer sometimes interferes with the expansiveness of
+his views, as for instance in the discussion on pulpits; but it may
+perhaps be to that very strength of personality that we owe the force
+and directness of the lessons he so encouragingly inculcates.
+
+
+     A WOMAN'S RANSOM. by FREDERICK WILLIAM ROBINSON, Author of
+     'Grandmother's Money,' 'Under the Spell,' 'Wild Flower,' 'Slaves of
+     the Ring,' 'The House of Life,' etc. Boston: Published by T. O. H.
+     P. Burnham. New York: H. Dexter Hamilton & Co., Oliver S. Felt.
+
+This work is published from advance sheets purchased from the English
+publisher. It is an excellent novel, full of incident and interest. The
+plot is artistic, and fascinates the reader to the end. The element of
+mystery is skilfully managed, increasing until the final _dénoûment_,
+which is original and unexpected. We commend it to the attention of the
+lovers of fascinating fiction.
+
+
+     INDUSTRIAL BIOGRAPHY: IRON WORKERS AND TOOL MAKERS. By SAMUEL
+     SMILES, Author of 'Self-Help,' 'Brief Biographies,' and 'Life of
+     George Stephenson.' 'The true Epic of our time, is not _Arms_ but,
+     _Tools_ and _Man_--an infinitely wider kind of Epic.' Boston:
+     Ticknor & Fields.
+
+This book may be considered as a continuation of the Series of Memoirs
+of Industrial Men introduced in Mr. Smiles's 'Lives of Engineers.' The
+author says that 'while commemorating the names of those who have
+striven--to elevate man above the material and mechanical, the labors of
+the important industrial class, to whom society owes so much of its
+comfort and well-being, are also entitled to consideration. Without
+derogating from the biographic claims of those who minister to intellect
+and taste, those who minister to utility need not be overlooked.'
+
+Surely the object of this book is a good one. The mechanic should
+receive his meed of appreciation. Our constructive heroes should not be
+forgotten, for the heroism of inventive labor has its own romance, and
+its results aid greatly the cause of human advancement. Most of the
+information embodied in this volume has heretofore existed only in the
+memories of the eminent mechanical engineers from whom it has been
+collected. Facts are here placed on record which would, in the ordinary
+course of things, have passed into oblivion. All honor to the brave,
+patient, ingenious, and inventive mechanic!
+
+
+     THE WIFE'S SECRET. By MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS, Author of 'The Rejected
+     Wife,' 'Fashion and Famine,' 'Tho Old Homestead,' 'Mary Derwent,'
+     etc., etc. Philadelphia: T. B. Peterson & Brothers, 306 Chestnut
+     street.
+
+MRS. STEPHENS has considerable ability in the construction of her plots
+and their gradual development. Her stories are always interesting. The
+wife's secret is well kept, and the _dénoûment_ admirably managed. The
+fatal want of moral courage, the suffering caused by mental weakness,
+the strength of love, the sustaining power of intellect, are portrayed
+with ability in the book before us. The moral is unexceptionable
+throughout.
+
+
+     THE VEIL PARTLY LIFTED, AND JESUS BECOMING VISIBLE. By W. H.
+     FURNESS, Author of 'Remarks on the Four Gospels,' 'Jesus and His
+     Biographers,' 'A History of Jesus,' and 'Thoughts on the Life and
+     Character of Jesus of Nazareth.' Boston: Ticknor & Fields. For sale
+     by D. Appleton & Co., New York.
+
+Investigations into the life and character of Christ Jesus are
+everywhere multiplying around us. Attempts to account for the marvels of
+His glorious Being on a simply natural plane are made in apparent good
+faith, and with considerable ability. Mr. Furness approaches his subject
+with reverence: he has studied the man, Jesus, with his heart. The human
+phases of His marvellous character are elaborated with skill and
+patience. He regards Christianity as a 'natural product, a product
+realized, not against, or aside from, but in the established order of
+things; that were we competent to pronounce upon the purposes of the
+Infinite Mind, which we are not, we might say that, so far from His
+being out of the course of nature, nature culminated in Christ, and
+that, of all that exists, He is the one being profoundly human,
+preëminently natural.' In the dove which descended at His baptism, Mr.
+Furness 'discovers the presence of a common dove divested of its
+ordinary appearance, and transfigured by a rapt imagination into a sign
+and messenger from heaven.' He says 'there is no intrinsic impossibility
+in supposing that Jesus was naturally possessed of an unprecedented
+power of will, by which the extraordinary effects attributed to him were
+produced.' 'The bloody sweat is an evident fiction--how could blood have
+been distinguished in the dark?' He pronounces the story of 'the wise
+men from the east an evident fable.' Mr. Furness puts no faith in the
+miraculous conception, but believes in the resurrection. He says: 'Bound
+by irresistible evidence to believe that Jesus was again alive on that
+memorable morning, I believe it will hereafter appear that He came to
+life through the extraordinary _force of will_ with which He was
+endowed, and by which He healed the sick and raised the dead; or, in
+other words, that consciousness returned to Him by an action of the
+mind, in itself no more inscrutable in this case than it is in our
+daily waking from sleep.'
+
+We deem that there is more difficulty in admitting that Christ rose from
+the dead by _extraordinary force of will_, than in admitting the truth
+of the record that He was the only Son of the Father, with full power
+over life and death. We thank Mr. Furness for the skilful manner in
+which he has brought to light the infinite tenderness and divine
+self-forgetfulness of the Redeemer, but we cannot think he has succeeded
+in lifting the veil of mystery which surrounds the birth, miracles,
+crucifixion, resurrection, and atonement of the Redeemer. Meantime let
+Christians who accept revelation in its integrity, throw no stumbling
+blocks in the way of earnest and candid inquirers, such as Mr. Furness.
+Is it not true that, dazzled by the _Divine_, we have been too little
+touched by the exquisite, compassionate, faithful, and child-like
+_human_ character of our Master? Truth seeks the light, and it cannot
+fall too fully on the perfect; every ray serving but to reveal some new
+perfection. Let those of fuller faith rejoice in the beauties forever
+developing in the character of the Holy Victim. Let them patiently pray
+that those who love Him as an elder brother, may gaze upon His majesty
+until they see in Him the risen God.
+
+We have found this book interesting and suggestive. It is disgraced by
+none of the flippant and irreverent sentimentalism which characterizes
+M. Renan.
+
+Contents: 'Wherein the Teaching of Jesus was New;' 'How the Truth of the
+History is made to appear;' 'His Knowledge of Human Nature;' 'His
+Wonder-working Power;' 'His Child-likeness;' 'The Naturalness of His
+Teaching;' 'The Naturalness of certain Fables found in His History;'
+'The Genesis of the Gospels.'
+
+
+     THE CAMPANER THAL, and Other Writings. From the German of JEAN PAUL
+     FRIEDRICH RICHTER. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. For sale by D.
+     Appleton & Co., New York.
+
+The "other writings" in the work before us are: Life of Quintus Fixlein,
+Schmelzle's Journey to Flätz, Analects from Richter, and Miscellaneous
+Pieces. The Life of Quintus Fixlein and Schmelzle's Journey to Flätz are
+both translated by that ardent admirer of Richter's genius, Thomas
+Carlyle; a sufficient guarantee that the spirit and beauty of the
+original are fully rendered. The Analects are translated by the
+brilliant writer, Thomas de Quincey.
+
+Richter died while engaged, under recent and almost total blindness, in
+enlarging and remodelling the Campaner Thal, or Discourses on the
+Immortality of the Soul. 'The unfinished manuscript was borne upon his
+coffin to the burial vault; and Klopstock's hymn, _Auferstehen wirst
+du!_ 'Thou shalt arise, my soul!' can seldom have been sung with more
+appropriate application than over the grave of Jean Paul.'
+
+The works of Jean Paul require no praise from the hands of the reviewer;
+his name is a true 'open sesame' to all hearts. Not to know him argues
+one's self unknown. Some of his finest passages are to be found in the
+Campaner Thal. It was written from his heart, and embodies his
+conviction of immortality. How tender its imagery, how rich its
+consoling suggestions, how all-embracing its arabesques, how original
+its structure! That its author should grow in favor with our people,
+would be a convincing proof of their own progress. So many different
+powers unite in him, that he has been well styled by his own people 'The
+only.' The vigor and rough strength of the man, with the delicacy and
+tenderness of the woman; glowing imagination with wondrous stores of
+erudition; fancy with exactness; the most loving heart with the keenest
+insight into the foibles of his fellows; the wit of a Swift with the
+romance of a Rousseau--but why attempt to describe the indescribable, to
+give portraits of the Proteus who changes as we gaze upon him?
+
+Meanwhile, we heartily commend Jean Paul to the notice of our readers,
+and thank the publishers who are placing his great works within the
+reach of those who cannot read him in the original.
+
+
+     THE WIND HARP, and Other Poems. By ELLEN CLEMENTINE HOWARTH.
+     Philadelphia: Willis P. Hazard.
+
+If we have been correctly informed, the author of this book is an Irish
+woman living in Trenton, N. Y., whose husband is a laboring man, and,
+like herself, in humble circumstances. She has quite a large family,
+lives in a small tenement, and is obliged to labor daily for a
+subsistence for herself and family. When she came to this country from
+Ireland, she could scarcely write a grammatical sentence; and all the
+information of history and the classics which she has, she has derived
+from such books as have accidentally fallen in her hands. She is
+extremely modest and retiring, and does not seem to be at all conscious
+of the genius with which she is endowed. Mrs. Howarth possesses the
+poetical talent of the Irish race. Her rhythm is musical, flowing, and
+pure; her thoughts gentle and womanly; her diction refined; her form
+good; her powers of imitation great. What she wants now is more
+self-reliance, that she may write from the inner life of her own
+experience. Her poems lack originality. Let her not fear to dip her pen
+in her own heart, and sing to us the joys and sorrows of the poor. Burns
+were a better study for her than Moore; the Corn Law rhymer than Poe.
+With her talents and the cultivation she has acquired, her familiarity
+with the hopes, fears, and realities of a life of labor will give her
+great advantages as the poetess of the faithful, suffering poor.
+
+
+BOOKS RECEIVED TOO LATE FOR REVIEW.
+
+LYRICS OF A DAY; OR, NEWSPAPER POETRY. By a Volunteer of the U. S.
+Service. New York: Carleton, publisher, 413 Broadway.
+
+RED-TAPE AND PIGEON-HOLE GENERALS: as Seen from the Ranks during a
+Campaign in the Army of the Potomac. By a Citizen Soldier.
+
+     'We must be brief when traitors brave the field.'
+
+New York: Carleton, publisher, 413 Broadway.
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S TABLE.
+
+ADELAIDE A. PROCTER AND JEAN INGELOW.
+
+
+Extremes ever meet, and our age, which is preëminently occupied with
+physical science and material comfort and aggrandizement, is also
+eminently productive in good poetry. There should be no antithesis
+between the words _physical science_ and _poetry_. The secrets of the
+Universe, the ways of God's working, are surely the highest poetry; but
+the greater number of scientists have willed a divorce between the
+material and the spiritual, and decry that very imaginative faculty
+which, in the case of Kepler, bore such wonderful fruits for science.
+Facts are very well, and induction is also well, but science requires
+the aid of the creative and divining imagination to order the details
+and draw thence the broader and higher generalizations. Let us hope that
+the good common sense of the in-coming half-century will annul the
+divorce, and again unite on a solid basis spheres that should never have
+been so far sundered.
+
+Meantime, we cannot but remark the number of good poems meeting us on
+every hand, not only from writers known to fame, but also from the
+living tombs of obscure country newspapers. We know it is the fashion to
+deride such productions, and sneer at the 'would-be poets.' Let critics
+speak the truth fearlessly, but let them never prefer the glitter of a
+self-glorifying search for faults to the more amiable but less piquant
+occupation of discovering solid thought, earnest feeling, and poetic
+fancy. It is well to discourage insipidity, impudent pretension, and
+every species of affectation; but critics are, like authors, fallible,
+and not unfrequently present glaring examples of the very faults they
+condemn. In any case where the knife is needed, let it be used firmly
+but gently, that, while the patient bleeds, he may feel the wound has
+been inflicted by no unloving, cynical hand, but was really intended for
+his ultimate good. Let the instrument be finely tempered, and neither
+coarse nor rough. We can all recall a few cases where a rude treatment
+has effected a cure, but only by draining the life blood of the victim,
+or by turning every better human feeling into bitterness and corroding
+gall. Words of blame intended to fall upon the hearts of the young, or
+of the old, should always be spoken kindly, for we can never know how
+deeply they may penetrate, what tender schemes for widowed mother,
+aspiring brother, portionless sister, or starving wife and children they
+may shatter. The public is a pretty keen judge, and will in most cases
+drop works devoid of the immortal elements of genius. The critic may
+point the way, but he need add no unnecessary stab to a downfall sure
+and bitter.
+
+This digression, however, has no bearing upon the honored names heading
+this table, as both now have become 'household words' in our midst. Both
+are acknowledged as _real poets_, but how different are they in style,
+and mode of thought! Jean Ingelow, as the more brilliant, is the more
+general favorite, Adelaide Procter having as yet scarcely received her
+due meed of praise. Miss Ingelow exhibits an exuberant fancy, a
+luxurious wealth of diction, and a generally fine poetic sense of form;
+her thoughts are sound, and their dress new and glittering; but the
+volume we have read is one to please the fancy and gratify the intellect
+rather than touch the heart. The style is occasionally obscure and the
+thought difficult to follow. Of course one can always find a meaning,
+but one is not always sure of interpreting according to the author's
+intentions. This quality, found largely in the school of Robert
+Browning, is one to be guarded against. Mrs. Browning sometimes deals in
+such involutions, but her style is so evidently an essential part of
+herself, that we rarely think of affectation in connection with it. It
+is pleasanter to dream our own dreams, than to follow any author into a
+tangled maze, whence we, and not he, must furnish the clew for egress.
+
+The 'Songs of Seven' and 'The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire'
+are truly fine poems, to us the most complete and sustained in the
+entire collection. In 'Requiescat in Pace,' we are carried so far away
+from the actualities of life that we scarcely care whether the lover be
+dead or living. As in a fairy tale, we read for the sake of curiosity,
+admiring sundry touches here and there, but feeling nothing. Miss
+Ingelow's rhythm is good, and her language musical.
+
+The style of Adelaide Procter is singularly lucid and direct; she has
+but little command of poetic ornament, and we rarely think of her choice
+of words. _Pathos_, and _a close, keen representation of human
+experience_, are her distinguishing characteristics. She is a poet to
+read when the soul is wrung, and longs for the solace of communion with
+a noble, tender, sympathetic human heart. The very absence of ornament
+brings the thoughts and feelings nearer to our needs. Her poems are
+evidently pictures of real human souls, and not poetic imaginings of
+what human beings might feel under such and such circumstances. There
+are many of Miss Procter's tales and shorter poems which bring tears to
+the eyes of all who have really lived and sorrowed, and the more we read
+them, the more do they come home to us. We feel as if we could take
+their author into our heart of hearts, and make all the world love her
+as do we. With her, brilliancy of imagery and description are replaced
+by a sententiousness and concentration of expression that suddenly
+strike home some truth perhaps well known, but little dwelt on. For
+instance, in 'A Legend of Provence,' we find:
+
+  'Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one
+  Have limits to its mercy: God has none.
+  And man's forgiveness may be true and sweet,
+  But yet he stoops to give it. More complete
+  Is Love that lays forgiveness at thy feet,
+  And pleads with thee to raise it. Only Heaven
+  Means _crowned_, not _vanquished_, when it says, 'Forgiven!''
+
+Again, in 'The Present:'
+
+  'Noble things the great Past promised,
+    Holy dreams, both strange and new;
+  But the Present shall fulfil them,
+    What he promised she shall do.
+
+  *       *       *       *       *
+
+  'She is wise with all his wisdom,
+    Living on his grave she stands,
+  On her brow she bears his laurels,
+    And _his harvest in her hands_.'
+
+'Links with Heaven' is a continued series of tender, original thoughts,
+expressed in the same terse and striking, but simple manner. 'Homeless,'
+'Treasures,' 'Incompleteness,' 'Light and Shade,' are, among the smaller
+poems, fine specimens of her distinguishing merits; while of the
+longer, 'Three Evenings in a Life,' 'Philip and Mildred,' and 'Homeward
+Bound' cannot fall to charm all who love to read a real page from the
+experience of humanity.
+
+Both Jean Ingelow and Adelaide Procter are thoroughly penetrated by
+profound religious convictions, the faith and charity of the latter
+being especially vivid and pervading. The one has a preponderance of the
+beautiful gift of a rich fancy, while to the other was given in greater
+degree the power of the penetrative and sympathetic imagination. The
+one, as we read, recalls to us a glittering heap of precious, shining
+jewels; the other, the first cluster of spring violets, wreaths of
+virginal lilies and midsummer roses, growths of cypress sound to the
+core, rosemary, sage, and all healing herbs, branches of scarlet maple
+leaves, and lovely wayside gentians, adorned by the hand of the Great
+Artist, and blue as heaven itself.
+
+But a little while ago, the Angel, Death, 'who comes in love and pity,
+and, to save our treasures, claims them all,' bore away her pure soul
+along the 'misty pathway' to everlasting peace and joy.
+
+                                                                L.D.P.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Loyal Women of America, this will greet you in the midst of the great
+Metropolitan Fair, and we congratulate you upon the success of the heavy
+work you have undertaken and accomplished! When God was manifest to men,
+he came to work for others, and you are treading in the highest path
+when you follow in the footsteps of the Master. Claim and perform your
+natural _duties_, show yourselves capable of self-abnegation, evince
+your determination to support the cause of justice, to be loyal to the
+humane principles of our Constitution--and all the _rights_ which you
+may postulate, will be conceded you. This war in which you have suffered
+so much, made so many sacrifices, has developed your energies, shown
+your capabilities, revealed your noble hearts, and convinced the world
+that woman is the strong and vigorous _helpmate_, and not the weak, if
+beautiful, _toy_ of man. The Government looks to you as its best aid,
+for moral sanction is its living soul; it looks to you for higher life,
+for, unless the heart of love is the throbbing life-pulse of Government,
+it sinks into a dull, lethargic mechanism. Far above the din of faction,
+the red tape of cabinets, the rivalry of generals, the strife of
+politicians, shines the resolve, and pulses the determination of woman,
+that _mankind shall be free_. For this, the dusky nation bless her as
+she moves; the frighted mother torn from her child, the maiden sold to
+shame, call upon her to deliver them from infamy and the devouring
+hunger of a robbed mother's heart. The wronged children of Ham arise and
+call her 'Blessed.'
+
+But it is with the men of her own race, that woman is weaving the golden
+web of priceless sympathies. Woven of her tenderness, it sparkles with
+man's deathless gratitude. The soldier feels her gracious being in every
+throb of his true heart. Her love and care are forever around him. In
+his lonely night watches, his long marches, his wearisome details of
+duty, his absence from home, his countless deprivations, he thinks of
+the women of his country, and is proud that he may be their defender.
+This thought stimulates him on the field of battle, and nerves his arm
+to deeds of glory. And when he falls, he falls into the arms which
+spread everywhere around him. The Sanitary Commission is her
+representative. She sends it to him to breathe of her in his hour of
+pain. Through it she watches o'er him as he lies low and bleeding on the
+dreadful field, surrounded by the dead and dying; she sends her
+ambulances there to bear him to shelter and comfort; her surgeons stanch
+the noble blood, remove the shattered limbs, quench the stifling thirst,
+working with a tenderness sucked in with the mother's milk. In the
+hospital, in her own gentle person, she soothes his restless hours,
+watches o'er his sleepless couch, dresses his mangled limbs, bears him
+up with her own faith, giving her strength to aid his weakness, she
+leads him back to life, or, if death must come, up to God. American
+Women, live up to the holy duties now demanded of you, and your rights
+will all be conceded, higher, holier, deeper, broader, more vital than
+any for which you have yet asked or hoped. The esteem and veneration of
+the very men who have scorned you for your love of luxury, laughed at
+you for your ridiculous aping of foreign aristocracy, jeered at you for
+your love of glitter, your thirst for wealth, your frivolity and folly,
+and despised you for your arrogance and heartlessness--are already
+yours. Contempt for you has passed away forever. Let the dead past bury
+its dead. American women solve the riddle of woman's destiny. Vast is
+her field and heritage: all who suffer belong to her. Her heart is the
+strength of love and charity; her mind, justice and the rights of all
+who bear the human form; her soul, God's temple among men, in which
+dwell the angels of Purity, Sacrifice, and Devotion. Love to God and man
+is her creed, self-abnegation her crown, faith her oriflamme, strength
+her gift, life her guerdon, and immortality her portion.
+
+American Women, we place a soldier's song before you:
+
+
+A SOLDIER'S PSALM OF WOMAN.
+
+BY LIEUT. RICHARD REALF.
+
+  Down all the shining lapse of days
+    That grow and grow forever
+  In truer love and better praise
+    Of the Almighty Giver--
+  Whatever God-like impulses
+    Have blossomed in the human,
+  The most divine and fair of these
+    Sprang from the soul of woman.
+
+  Her heart it is preserves the flower
+    Of sacrificial duty,
+  Which, blown across the blackest hour,
+    Transfigures it to beauty;
+  Her hands that streak these solemn years
+    With vivifying graces,
+  And crown the foreheads of our fears
+    With light from higher places.
+
+  O wives and mothers, sanctified
+    By holy consecrations,
+  Turning our weariness aside
+    With blessed ministrations!
+  O maidens, in whose dewy eyes
+    Perennial comforts glitter,
+  Untangling War's dark mysteries
+    And making sweet the bitter;--
+
+  In desolate paths, on dangerous posts,
+    By places which, to-morrow,
+  Shall be unto these bannered hosts
+    Aceldemas of sorrow,
+  We hear the sound of helping feet,
+    We feel your soft caressings;
+  And all our life starts up to greet
+    Your lovingness with blessings!
+
+  On cots of pain, on beds of woe,
+    Where stricken heroes languish,
+  Wan faces smile and sick hearts grow
+    Triumphant over anguish;
+  While souls that starve in lonely gloom
+    Flush green with odorous praises,
+  And all the lowly pallets bloom
+    With Gratitude's white daisies.
+
+  O lips that from our wounds have sucked
+    The fever and the burning!
+  O tender fingers that have plucked
+    The madness from our mourning!
+  O hearts that beat so loyal-true
+    For soothing and for saving--
+  God send your own hopes back to you,
+    Crowned with immortal having!
+
+  Thank God!--O Love! whereby we know
+    Beyond our little seeing,
+  And feel serene compassions flow
+    Around the ache of being;--
+  Lo! clear o'er all the pain and dread
+    Of our most sore affliction,
+  The shining wings of Peace are spread
+    In brooding benediction!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We have been requested by the author of 'Hannah Thurston,' an article in
+our April number, to correct a typographical error (the omission of the
+word _all_) in said article. The mutilated sentence originally read: "I
+cannot think that marriage is essential to, or even best for, the
+happiness of _all_ women."
+
+ED. CON
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No.
+5, May, 1864, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22770-8.txt or 22770-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/7/22770/
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/22770-8.zip b/22770-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..85cd6c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-8.zip
diff --git a/22770-h.zip b/22770-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a46f828
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-h.zip
diff --git a/22770-h/22770-h.htm b/22770-h/22770-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..245288b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-h/22770-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,8924 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol V. No V. by Various Authors.
+    </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;
+       }
+
+    div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */
+    div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */
+
+
+    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%;}
+
+
+    .bbox     {border: solid 2px;}
+
+    .center   {text-align: center;}
+    .smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+    .author {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%;}
+
+
+    .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.i1     {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i10     {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i11     {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i12     {display: block; margin-left: 9em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i14     {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i15     {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i3     {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i5     {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i6     {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i7     {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i8     {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem span.i9     {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    // -->
+    /* XML end  ]]>*/
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5,
+May, 1864, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5, May, 1864
+       Devoted To Literature And National Policy
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2007 [EBook #22770]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h2>THE</h2>
+
+<h1>CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:</h1>
+
+<h4>DEVOTED TO</h4>
+
+<h2>Literature and National Policy.</h2>
+
+
+
+<h3>VOL. V.&mdash;MAY, 1864.&mdash;No. V.</h3>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS">
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AMERICAN_FINANCES_AND_RESOURCES">AMERICAN FINANCES AND RESOURCES.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#AENONE">&AElig;NONE:</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#OUR_DOMESTIC_RELATIONS_OR_HOW_TO_TREAT_THE_REBEL_STATES">'OUR DOMESTIC RELATIONS; OR, HOW TO TREAT THE REBEL STATES.'</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_MOUND_BUILDER">THE MOUND BUILDER.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_UNIVERSAL_LANGUAGE">A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE:</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_SUMMERS_NIGHT">A SUMMER'S NIGHT.</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_1">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_ENGLISH_PRESS">THE ENGLISH PRESS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_HOUSE_IN_THE_LANE">THE HOUSE IN THE LANE.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#MUSIC_A_SCIENCE">MUSIC A SCIENCE.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THOUGHT">THOUGHT.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_WAR_A_CONTEST_FOR_IDEAS">THE WAR A CONTEST FOR IDEAS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#HINTS_TO_THE_AMERICAN_FARMER">HINTS TO THE AMERICAN FARMER.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#APHORISMS">APHORISMS. NO. IV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#THE_WILD_AZALEA">THE WILD AZALEA.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#A_PAIR_OF_STOCKINGS">A PAIR OF STOCKINGS.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#LITERARY_NOTICES">LITERARY NOTICES.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#EDITORS_TABLE">EDITOR'S TABLE.</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="AMERICAN_FINANCES_AND_RESOURCES" id="AMERICAN_FINANCES_AND_RESOURCES"></a>AMERICAN FINANCES AND RESOURCES.</h2>
+
+<h3>LETTER NO. V. OF HON. ROBERT J. WALKER.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="author">
+<span class="smcap">London</span>, 10 Half Moon Street, Piccadilly,<br />
+<i>February 8th, 1864</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p>In my third and fourth letters on American finances and resources, the
+following comparisons were instituted: Massachusetts and New Jersey,
+Free States, with Maryland and South Carolina, Slave States; New York
+and Pennsylvania, Free States, with Virginia, Slave State; Rhode Island,
+Free State, with Delaware, Slave State; Illinois, Free State, with
+Missouri, Slave State; the Free States of 1790, with the Slave States of
+that day; the Free States of 1860, with the Slave States of that date.
+These comparisons were based on the official returns of the Census of
+the United States, and exhibited in each case and in the aggregate the
+same invariable result, the vastly superior progress of the Free States
+in wealth, population, and education.</p>
+
+<p>I will now institute one other comparison, Kentucky, slaveholding, with
+Ohio, a Free State.</p>
+
+<p>Kentucky&mdash;population in 1790, 73,077; Ohio, none. 1800: Kentucky,
+220,955; Ohio, 45,365. 1860: Kentucky, 1,155,684; Ohio, 2,339,502. We
+must institute the comparison from 1800, as Ohio was a wilderness in
+1790, when Kentucky had a population of 73,077. In Kentucky, the ratio
+of increase of population from 1800 to 1860 was 527.98 per cent., and in
+the same period in Ohio 5,057.08. (Table 1, Census 1860.) Thus from 1800
+to 1860 Ohio increased in nearly tenfold the ratio of Kentucky.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Wealth</span>.&mdash;By Tables 33 and 36, Census of 1860, the value of the product
+of 1859 was as follows:</p>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="Wealth">
+<tr><td align='left'>Ohio,</td><td align='right'>$337,619,000</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Kentucky,</td><td align='right'>115,408,000</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center' colspan="2"><i>Per Capita.</i></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Ohio,</td><td align='right'>$144 31</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Kentucky,</td><td align='right'>99 92</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Thus is it, that, while in 1790 and 1800 Kentucky was so very far in
+advance of Ohio, yet, in 1860, so vast was the advance of Ohio as
+compared with Kentucky, that the value of the product of Ohio was nearly
+triple that of Kentucky, and, <i>per capita</i>, much more than one third
+greater. No reason can be assigned for these remarkable results, except
+that Kentucky was slaveholding, and Ohio a Free State.</p>
+
+<p>Their area is nearly the same, and they are adjacent States; the soil of
+Kentucky is quite equal to that of Ohio, the climate better for crops
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span>and stock, and the products more various.</p>
+
+<p>We have seen the actual results in 1860, but if Kentucky had increased
+in population from 1800 to 1860 in the same ratio as Ohio, Kentucky then
+would have numbered 11,175,970, or nearly ten times her present
+population; and if the product had been the same as in Ohio, <i>per
+capita</i>, the value would have been $1,612,804,230, or more than fourteen
+times greater than the result. Thus it is demonstrated by the official
+Tables of the Census of the United States, that if Kentucky had
+increased in wealth and population from 1800 to 1860 in the same ratio
+as Ohio, the results would have been as follows:</p>
+
+<p>Kentucky: population in 1860, 11,175,970; actual population in 1860,
+1,155,684; value of products in 1860, $1,612,804,230; actual value in
+1860, $115,408,000.</p>
+
+<p>Some attempt has been made to account for these marvellous results, by
+stating that Ohio has a border on one of the lakes, and Kentucky has
+not. But to this it may be replied, that Kentucky borders for twice the
+distance on the Ohio River, has a large front on the Mississippi River,
+and embraces within her limits those noble streams, the Cumberland and
+Tennessee Rivers, making, together with the Big Sandy, Licking,
+Kentucky, Green, and Barren Rivers, the natural advantages of Kentucky
+for navigation, superior to those of Ohio. But a conclusive answer to
+this argument is found in the fact that, omitting all the counties of
+Ohio within the lake region, the remainder, within the valley of the
+Ohio River, contain a population more than one half greater than that of
+the whole State of Kentucky.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lands</span>.-The farm lands, improved and unimproved, of Ohio, in 1860, were
+worth $666,564,171. The number of acres 20,741,138, value per acre
+$32.13. (Census of 1860, p. 197, Table 36.) The farm lands of Kentucky,
+improved and unimproved, were worth $291,496,953, the number of acres
+19,163,276, worth per acre, $15.21. (<i>Ib.</i>) Difference in favor of Ohio,
+$375,067,165. But if to this we add the difference between the value of
+the town and city lots and unoccupied lands of Ohio and Kentucky, the
+sum is $125,009,000, which added to the former sum ($375,067,165) makes
+the difference in favor of Ohio $500,076,165, when comparing the value
+of all her lands with those of Kentucky. We have seen that the value of
+the products in 1860 was, Ohio $337,619,000, Kentucky $115,408,000. But
+these products embrace only agriculture, manufactures, the mines, and
+fisheries.</p>
+
+<p>We have no complete tables for commerce in either State, but the canals
+and railroads are as follows (Census of 1860, No. 38, pp. 225, 226,
+233): Ohio: Miles of railroad, 3,016.83; cost of construction,
+$113,299,514. Kentucky: Miles of railroad, 569.93; cost of construction,
+$19,068,477. Estimated value of freight transported on these railroads
+in 1860: Ohio, $502,105,000; Kentucky, $48,708,000. On the 1st of
+January, 1864, the number of miles of railroad in operation in Ohio was
+3,356.74, costing $130,454,383, showing a large increase since 1860,
+while in Kentucky there was none. (Amer. R. R. Journal, p. 61, vol. 37.)
+Canals in 1860 (Census Table 39): Ohio, 906 miles; Kentucky, two and a
+half miles. These Tables all prove how vast has been the increase of the
+wealth of Ohio as compared with Kentucky.</p>
+
+<p>Let us now examine some of the educational statistics.</p>
+
+<p>By Census Table 37, giving the newspapers and periodicals in the United
+States in 1860, the whole number of that year was 4,051, of which only
+879 were in the Slave States; total number of copies circulated that
+year in the United States, 927,951,548, of which number there were
+circulated in the Slave States only 167,917,188. This Table shows the
+total number of newspapers and periodicals published in Ohio in 1859 was
+340, and the number<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span> of copies circulated that year in that State was
+71,767,742. In Kentucky, the number of newspapers and periodicals
+published in 1859 was 77, and the number of copies circulated that year
+was 13,504,044, while South Carolina, professing to instruct and control
+the nation, had a circulation of 3,654,840, although South Carolina, in
+1790, had a population of 249,073, when Ohio was a wilderness, and
+Kentucky numbered only 73,077.</p>
+
+<p>As regards education, we must take the Tables for the Census of 1850,
+those for 1860 not having been yet published.</p>
+
+<p>By Table 144, Census of 1850, the total number of pupils in public and
+private schools, colleges, and academies, was for that year as follows:
+Ohio, 502,826. Kentucky, 85,914. Percentage of native free population
+who cannot read or write (Table 155), Ohio 3.24; Kentucky, 9.12; Slave
+States, native white adults who cannot read or write, ratio 17.23; Free
+States, 4.12. (Table 157.) If we include slaves, more than one half the
+adults of the Slave States cannot read or write. Indeed, it is made by
+law in the Slave States a crime (severely punished) to teach any slave
+to read or write. These Tables also show that in South Carolina, the
+great leader of secession, (including slaves) more than three fourths of
+the people can neither read nor write. Such is the State, rejoicing in
+the barbarism of ignorance and slavery, exulting in the hope of reviving
+the African slave trade, whose chief city witnesses each week the
+auction of slaves as chattels, and whose newspapers, for more than a
+century, are filled with daily advertisements by their masters of
+runaway slaves, describing the brands and mutilations to which they have
+been subjected; that passed the first secession ordinance, and commenced
+the war upon the Union by firing upon the Federal flag and garrison of
+Sumter. Yet it is the pretended advocates of peace that justify this war
+upon the Union, and insist that it shall submit to dismemberment without
+a struggle, and permit slavery to be extended over nearly one half the
+national territory, purchased by the blood and treasure of the nation.
+Such a submission to disintegration and ruin&mdash;such a capitulation to
+slavery, would have been base and cowardly. It would have justly merited
+for us the scorn of the present, the contempt of the future, the
+denunciation of history, and the execration of mankind. Despots would
+have exultingly announced that 'man is incapable of self-government;'
+while the heroes and patriots in other countries, who, cheered and
+guided by the light of our example, had struggled in the cause of
+popular liberty, would have sunk despairingly from the conflict. This is
+our <i>real offence</i> to European oligarchy, that we will crush this foul
+rebellion, extinguish the slavery by which it was caused, make the Union
+stronger and more harmonious, and thus give a new impulse and an
+irresistible moral influence and power to free institutions.</p>
+
+<p>Let me recapitulate some of the facts referred to in these letters, and
+established by the Census of the United States.</p>
+
+<p>Area of the United States, 3,250,000 square miles, exceeding that of all
+Europe&mdash;all compact and contiguous, with richer lands, more mineral
+resources, a climate more salubrious, more numerous and better harbors,
+more various products, and increasing in wealth and population more
+rapidly than any other country.</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Our ocean shore line">
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="right"><i>Miles.</i></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Our ocean shore line, including bays, sounds, and rivers, up to the head of tide water</td>
+<td align="right">33,663</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Lake shore line</td>
+<td align="right">3,620</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Shore line of Mississippi River and its tributaries above tide water above tide water is</td>
+<td align="right">35,644</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Shore line of all our other rivers</td>
+<td align="right">49,857</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Total</span></td>
+<td align="right">122,784</td>
+</tr>
+
+
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Our country, then, is better watered than any other, and has more
+navigable streams, and greater hydraulic power.</p>
+
+<p>We have completed since 1790, 5,782 miles of canal, costing
+$148,000,000; and 33,860 miles of railroad (more than all the rest of
+the world), costing $1,625,952,215. (Amer. R. R. Journal, 1864, No.
+1,448, vol. 37, p. 61.)</p>
+
+<p>Our land lines of telegraph exceed those of all the rest of the world,
+the single line from New York to San Francisco being 3,500 miles. Our
+mines of coal, according to Sir William Armstrong, the highest British
+authority, are thirty-two times as great as those of the United Kingdom.</p>
+
+<p>Annual product of our mines of gold and silver, $100,000,000, estimated
+at $150,000,000 per annum by our Commissioner of the General Land
+Office, when the Pacific railroad shall be completed.</p>
+
+<p>Public lands unsold, belonging to the Federal Government, 1,055,911,288
+acres, being 1,649,861 square miles, and more than thirty-two times the
+extent of England.</p>
+
+<p>Immigration to the United States from 1850 to 1860, 2,598,216, adding to
+our national wealth during that decade $1,430,000,000.</p>
+
+<p>Education&mdash;granted by Congress since 1790 for the purposes of public
+schools&mdash;two sections (1,280 acres) in every township (23,040 acres), in
+all 1,450,000,000 acres of public lands; one eighteenth part given,
+being 80,555,555 acres, worth at the minimum price of $1.25 per acre,
+$100,694,443&mdash;the real value, however, was much greater.</p>
+
+<p>Granted by Congress for colleges and universities, 12,080,000 acres,
+including 3,553,824 given by the Federal Government to the State of
+Tennessee, worth, at the minimum price of $1.25 per acre, $15,100,000,
+which is much below their true value.</p>
+
+<p>Total in public lands granted by Federal Government for education,
+92,635,555 acres; minimum value, $115,794,443.</p>
+
+<p>In 1836, after full payment of the entire principal and interest of the
+public debt, there remained in the Federal Treasury a surplus of
+$38,000,000, of which about one half, $19,000,000, was devoted to
+educational purposes.</p>
+
+<p>Total Federal appropriations since 1790 for education, $134,794,443.</p>
+
+<p>This is exclusive of the many millions of dollars expended by the
+Federal Government for military and naval schools, etc., at West Point,
+Washington, Annapolis, and Newport. Besides these Federal donations,
+there has been granted by States, Territories, counties, towns, and
+cities of the Union for education, since 1790 (partly estimated)
+$148,000,000. Grand total by States and Federal Government appropriated
+in the United States since 1790, for education, $282,794,443. This is
+independent of numerous private donations for the same purpose, that by
+Mr. Girard exceeding $1,500,000, and that by Mr. Smithson exceeding
+$500,000. It is then a fact that the Governments of the United States,
+State and Federal, since 1790, have appropriated for education more
+money than all the other Governments of the world combined during the
+same period. This is a stupendous fact, and one of the main causes of
+our wonderful progress and prosperity. We believe that 'knowledge is
+power,' and have appropriated nearly $300,000,000, during the last
+seventy-four years, in aid of the grand experiment. We believe that 'man
+is capable of self-government,' but only when educated and enlightened.
+We believe that the power and wealth and progress of nations increase in
+proportion to the education and enlightenment of the masses. We believe
+in intellectual as well as machine and muscular power, and that when the
+millions are educated, and work with their heads as well as their hands,
+the progress of the nation will be most rapid. Our patent office is a
+wonderful illustration of this principle, showing on the part of our
+industrial classes more valuable inventions and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span> discoveries, annually,
+than are produced by the workingmen of all the rest of the world.</p>
+
+<h4><i>Population.</i></h4>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="40%" cellspacing="0" summary="Population.">
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1790,</td><td align='right'>3,922,827</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1800,</td><td align='right'>5,305,937</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1810,</td><td align='right'>7,239,814</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1820,</td><td align='right'>9,638,191</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1830,</td><td align='right'>12,866,020</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1840</td><td align='right'>17,069,453</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1850,</td><td align='right'>23,191,876</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1860,</td><td align='right'>31,445,080</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Ratio of Increase</span>.&mdash;From 1790 to 1800, 35.02; from 1800 to 1810, 36.45;
+from 1810 to 1820, 33.13; from 1820 to 1830, 33.49; from 1830 to 1840,
+32.67; from 1840 to 1850, 35.87; from 1850 to 1860, 35.59. Thus it
+appears (omitting territorial acquisitions) that our ratio of increase
+was much greater from 1850 to 1860 than during any preceding decade.
+This was the result of augmented immigration, which is still to go on
+with increased power for many years. Making allowance for all probable
+contingencies, and reducing the decennial increase from 35.59 to three
+per cent. per annum, our able and experienced Superintendent of the
+Census, in his last official report, of 20th May, 1862, gives his own
+estimate of the future population of the United States:</p>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2"  width="40%" cellspacing="0" summary="estimate of the future population of the United States">
+<tr><td align='left'>1870,</td><td align='right'>42,328,432</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>1880,</td><td align='right'>56,450,241</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>1890,</td><td align='right'>77,263,989</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>1900,</td><td align='right'>100,355,802</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>That, in view of our new Homestead law&mdash;our high wages&mdash;the extinction
+of slavery&mdash;increased confidence in our institutions&mdash;and augmented
+immigration, these results will be achieved, can scarcely be doubted. As
+population becomes more dense in Europe, there will be an increased
+immigration to our Union, and each new settler writes to his friends
+abroad, and often remits money to induce them to join him in his Western
+home. The electric ocean telegraph will soon unite Europe with America,
+and improved communications are constantly shortening the duration of
+the voyage and diminishing the expense. Besides, this war has made us
+much better known to the European <i>masses</i>, who, everywhere, with great
+unanimity and enthusiasm sustain our cause, and, with slavery
+extinguished, will still more prefer our institutions.</p>
+
+<p>From all these causes there will be an augmented exodus from Europe to
+America, when our rebellion is suppressed, and slavery overthrown.
+Besides, the President of the United States now proposes appropriations
+of money by Congress in aid of immigration, and such will become the
+policy of our Government. We have seen the official estimate made by our
+Superintendent of the Census, but if we take the ratio of increase of
+the last decade, the result would be as follows:</p>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="40%" cellspacing="0" summary="ratio of increase of
+the last decade">
+<tr><td align='left'>1870,</td><td align='right'>42,636,858</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>1880,</td><td align='right'>57,791,315</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>1890,</td><td align='right'>78,359,243</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>1900,</td><td align='right'>106,247,297</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>The estimate of the Superintendent is, therefore, six millions less than
+according to the ratio from 1850 to 1860, and much less than from 1790
+to 1860.</p>
+
+<p>When we reflect that if, as densely settled as Massachusetts, our
+population would exceed 513,000,000, or if numbering as many to the
+square mile as England, our inhabitants would then be more than twelve
+hundred millions, the estimate of 100,000,000 for the year 1900 cannot
+be regarded as improbable.</p>
+
+<p>Our national wealth was</p>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="40%" cellspacing="0" summary="Our national wealth was">
+<tr><td align='left'>in 1850,</td><td align='right'>$7,135,780,228</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1860,</td><td align='right'>$16,159,616,068</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Increase from 1850 to 1860, 126.45 per cent.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>At the same rate of increase for the four succeeding decades, the result
+would be:</p>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2"  width="40%" cellspacing="0" summary="same rate of increase for the four succeeding decades">
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1870,</td><td align='right'>$36,593,450,585</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1880,</td><td align='right'>82,865,868,849</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1890,</td><td align='right'>187,314,053,225</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1900,</td><td align='right'>423,330,438,288</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span></p>
+
+<h4><i>Tonnage.</i></h4>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="40%" cellspacing="0" summary="Tonnage">
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1841,</td><td align='right'>1,368,127 tons.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1851,</td><td align='right'>3,772,439 "</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1861,</td><td align='right'>5,539,812 "</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>At the same rate of increase as from 1851 to 1861, the result would be:</p>
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2"  width="40%" cellspacing="0" summary="same rate of increase as from 1851 to 1861">
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1871,</td><td align='right'>8,134,578 tons.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1881,</td><td align='right'>11,952,817 "</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1891,</td><td align='right'>17,541,514 "</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>In 1901,</td><td align='right'>25,758,948 "</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Total number of copies of our newspapers and periodicals circulated in
+the United States in 1860, 927,951,548, exceeding that of all the rest
+of the world.</p>
+
+<p>Let us now recapitulate the results from our Census, founded on a
+comparison of the Slave and Free States.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="76%" cellspacing="0" summary="comparison of the Slave and Free States.">
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Massachusetts.</span>&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Maryland.</span>&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 7,800 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">11,124 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1790, 378,717</td>
+<td align="left">319,728.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, 1,231,066</td>
+<td align="left">687,049.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Products in 1859, $287,000,000</td>
+<td align="left">$66,000,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Products per capita, $235</td>
+<td align="left">$96.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Railroads, 1,340 miles</td>
+<td align="left">380 miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Railroads cost, $61,857,203</td>
+<td align="left">$21,387,157.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Freight of 1860, $500,524,201</td>
+<td align="left">$101,111,348.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Tonnage built in 1860, 34,460 tons</td>
+<td align="left">$101,111,348.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Bank capital, $64,519,200</td>
+<td align="left">$12,568,962.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Imports and exports, $58,190,816</td>
+<td align="left">$12,568,962.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of property, $815,237,433</td>
+<td align="left">$376,919,944.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Gross profit on capital, 35 per cent</td>
+<td align="left">$376,919,944.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Copies of press circulated in 1860, 102,000,760</td>
+<td align="left">20,723,472.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils at public schools in 1860, 176,475</td>
+<td align="left">33,254.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Volumes in public libraries, 684,015</td>
+<td align="left">125,042.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of churches, $10,206,000</td>
+<td align="left">$3,947,884.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">New York.</span>&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Virginia.</span>&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 47,000 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">61,392 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1790, 340,120</td>
+<td align="left">748,308.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, 3,880,735</td>
+<td align="left">748,308.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product of 1859, $606,000,000</td>
+<td align="left">$120,000,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Per capita, $156</td>
+<td align="left">$75.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Gross profit on capital, 34 per cent</td>
+<td align="left">15 per cent.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value per acre of farm lands, $38.26</td>
+<td align="left">$11.91.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Railroads, 2,842 miles</td>
+<td align="left">1,771 miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Railroads, cost of construction, $138,395,055</td>
+<td align="left">$64,958,807.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Freight in 1860, $579,681,790</td>
+<td align="left">$110,000,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Canals, 1,038 miles</td>
+<td align="left">178 miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Canals, cost, $67,567,972</td>
+<td align="left">$7,817,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Tonnage built in 1860, 31,936</td>
+<td align="left">4,372.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Bank capital, $111,441,320</td>
+<td align="left">$16,005,156.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Exports and imports, 1860, $394,045,326</td>
+<td align="left">$7,184,273.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Copies of press circulated in 1860, 320,980,884</td>
+<td align="left">26,772,518.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils at public schools in 1860, 675,221</td>
+<td align="left">67,428.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Volumes in public libraries, 1,760,820</td>
+<td align="left">88,462.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of churches, $21,539,561</td>
+<td align="left">$2,002,220.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native free population who cannot read or write, 1.87</td>
+<td align="left">19.90.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Compare the column as regards Virginia with the returns for
+Pennsylvania, and the result is nearly as remarkable as that of New
+York.</p>
+
+<p>Pennsylvania, area 46,000, population in 1790, 434,373; in 1860,
+2,900,115. Products of 1859, $399,600,000, <i>per capita</i>, $138, profit on
+capital, 22 per cent. Value of farm lands per acre, $38.91. Railroads,
+2,690 miles, costing $147,483,410. Canals, 1,259 miles, costing
+$42,015,000. Tonnage built in 1860, 21,615 tons. Bank capital,
+$25,565,582. Exports and imports, $20,262,608, Copies of press
+circulated in 1860,116,094,480. Pupils at public schools, 413,706.
+Volumes in public libraries, 363,400. Value of churches, $11,853,291.</p>
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="75%" cellspacing="0" summary="comparison of the Slave and Free States.">
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Illinois</span>.&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Missouri</span>.&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 55,405 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">67,380 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1810, 12,282</td>
+<td align="left">20,845.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1860, 1,711,951</td>
+<td align="left">1,182,012.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ratio of increase from 1810 to 1860, 13,838 per ct.</td>
+<td align="left">5,570.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Railroads in operation in 1860, 2,868 miles</td>
+<td align="left">817 miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ditto, 1st of January, 1864, 3,080 miles</td>
+<td align="left">914 miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of farm lands, 1860, $432,531,072</td>
+<td align="left">$230,632,126.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Canals, 102 miles</td>
+<td align="left">none.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ratio of increased value of property from 1850 to 1860, 458 per cent.</td>
+<td align="left">265 per cent.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">At same ratio from 1860 to 1870, as from
+1850 to 1860, total wealth in 1870 would be $3,993,000,000</td>
+<td align="left">$1,329,000,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Rhode Island.</span>&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Delaware.</span>&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 1,306 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">2,120 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1792, 69,110</td>
+<td align="left">59,096.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, 174,520</td>
+<td align="left">112,216.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product in 1859, $52,400,000</td>
+<td align="left">$16,100,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of property in 1860, $135,000,000</td>
+<td align="left">$46,242,181.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Bank capital, $20,865,569</td>
+<td align="left">$1,640,675.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Copies of press issued in 1860, 5,289,280</td>
+<td align="left">1,010,776.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils at public schools, 23,130</td>
+<td align="left">8,970.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Volumes in public libraries, 104,342</td>
+<td align="left">17,950.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils at colleges and academies, 3,664</td>
+<td align="left">764.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native free adults who cannot read or write, 1.49</td>
+<td align="left">23.03.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of churches, $1,293,700</td>
+<td align="left">$340,345.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">New Jersey.</span>&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">South Carolina.</span>&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 8,320 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">24,500 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1790, 184,139</td>
+<td align="left">249,073.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, 672,035</td>
+<td align="left">703,708.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ratio of increase from 1790 to 1860, 265 per cent.</td>
+<td align="left">182 per cent.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1860, 80.77</td>
+<td align="left">28.72.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Increase of population per square mile from 1790 to 1860, 58.64 per cent.</td>
+<td align="left">18.55 per cent.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, remaining the same per square mile, if area equal to that of South
+Carolina, 1,978,650.</td>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, remaining the same per <i>square mile</i>,
+area equal to that of New Jersey, 238,950.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product of 1859, $167,398,003</td>
+<td align="left">$46,445,782.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Per capita, $249</td>
+<td align="left">$66.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Farm lands, 1860, improved and unimproved acres, 2,983,531</td>
+<td align="left">15,595,860.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value in 1860, $180,250,338</td>
+<td align="left">$139,652,508.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Agricultural products of 1860, $86,398,000</td>
+<td align="left">$39,645,728.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Agricultural products of 1860, $86,398,000</td>
+<td align="left">$39,645,728.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product per acre, $28.96</td>
+<td align="left">$2.54.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Improved lands, 1,944,445 acres</td>
+<td align="left">4,572,060 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product per acre, $44.43</td>
+<td align="left">$8.67.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of farm lands per acre, $60.42</td>
+<td align="left">$8.95.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left" valign="top">Value of farm lands per acre, $60.42</td>
+<td align="left">$8.95.<br />Value of farm lands, if worth as much per acre as those of New Jersey, $942,660,377.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Copies of press issued in 1860, 12,801,412</td>
+<td align="left">3,654,840.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native free adults who cannot read or write, 5.10</td>
+<td align="left">12.73.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native white children at school, 80.56.</td>
+<td align="left">26.025.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils at colleges, academies, and public schools, 88,244</td>
+<td align="left">26.025.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of churches, $3,712,863</td>
+<td align="left">$2,181,476.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Michigan.</span>&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Florida.</span>&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 56,243 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">59,268 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1810,   4,762</td>
+<td align="left">16,989, Spanish.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1820,   8,765</td>
+<td align="left">23,801, Spanish.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1830,  31,639</td>
+<td align="left">34,730, Spanish.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1860, 749,113</td>
+<td align="left">140,425, Spanish.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1810, 0.08</td>
+<td align="left">0.28.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1820, 0.15</td>
+<td align="left">0.38.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1830, 0.56</td>
+<td align="left">0.58.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1860, 13.32</td>
+<td align="left">2.37</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Absolute increase of population from 1830 to 1860, 717,474</td>
+<td align="left">105,695.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Relative rank in 1830, 25</td>
+<td align="left">26.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Relative rank in 1860, 16</td>
+<td align="left">31.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Absolute increase of population from 1850 to 1860 per <i>square mile</i>, 6.25</td>
+<td align="left">0.89.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of total product of 1859, $99,200,000</td>
+<td align="left">$12,300,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Of agriculture alone, $64,000,000</td>
+<td align="left">$9,600,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Total product per capita, $132.04</td>
+<td align="left">$87.59.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Farm lands improved and unimproved in 1860, 6,931,442 acres</td>
+<td align="left">2,849,572 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Improved farm lands, 1860, 3,419,861 acres</td>
+<td align="left">676,464 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of lands improved and unimproved in 1860, $163,279,087</td>
+<td align="left">$16,371,684.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product per acre, $9.23</td>
+<td align="left">$3.01.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product of improved land, $18.71</td>
+<td align="left">$14.18.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of farm lands, 1860, per acre, $23.55</td>
+<td align="left">$5.74.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">Value of farm lands of Florida, if worth as much <i>per acre</i> as those of Michigan, $67,105,222.<br /><br />
+Product of Florida lands, if equal <i>per acre</i> to those of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span> Michigan, in 1859, $26,300,549.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Copies of press issued in 1860, 11,606,596</td>
+<td align="left">1,081,601.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native free adults, who cannot read or write, 2.84</td>
+<td align="left">9.18.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Public libraries, 107,943 volumes</td>
+<td align="left">2,660 volumes.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils in public schools, academies, and colleges, 112,382</td>
+<td align="left">3,129.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native white children at school, 99.53</td>
+<td align="left">35.77.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Wisconsin.</span>&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Texas.</span>&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 53,924 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">274,356 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1840, 30,749</td>
+<td align="left">80,983. (Republic.)</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, 775,881</td>
+<td align="left">604,215.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1840, 0.57</td>
+<td align="left">0.29.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1860, 8.99</td>
+<td align="left">2.20.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Increase per square mile from 1840 to 1860, 8.42.</td>
+<td align="left">1.91.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Absolute increase of population from 1850 to 1860 per square mile, 8.99</td>
+<td align="left">1.41.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of total product of 1859, $101,375,000</td>
+<td align="left">$52,749,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Of agriculture alone, $72,875,000</td>
+<td align="left">$46,499,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Total product per capita, $130.39</td>
+<td align="left">$87.30.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Farm lands improved and unimproved, 7,899,170 acres</td>
+<td align="left">23,245,433 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Improved farm lands, 1860, 3,746,036 acres</td>
+<td align="left">2,649,207 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of lands improved and unimproved in 1860, $131,117,082</td>
+<td align="left">$104,007,689.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product per acre of improved and unimproved lands in 1859, $9.22</td>
+<td align="left">$2.00.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product per acre of improved lands in 1859, $19.45</td>
+<td align="left">$17.56.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of farm lands per acre, $16.59</td>
+<td align="left">$4.47.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">Value of farm lands of Texas, if worth as much per acre as those of Wisconsin, $385,641,733.<br /><br />
+Product of Texas lands in 1859, if equal per acre to those of Wisconsin, $214,212,892.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Copies of press issued in 1860, 10,798,670</td>
+<td align="left">7,855,808.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native free adults who cannot read or write, 1.04</td>
+<td align="left">11.84.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Public libraries, 21,020 volumes</td>
+<td align="left">4,230 volumes.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils in colleges and public schools, 61,615</td>
+<td align="left">11,500.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Percentage of native white children at school, 74.90</td>
+<td align="left">45.82.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Indiana.</span>&mdash;<i>Free State.</i></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Tennessee.</span>&mdash;<i>Slave State.</i></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 33,809 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">45,600 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1790, none</td>
+<td align="left">35,791.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1800, 4,875</td>
+<td align="left">105,602.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population, 1860, 1,350,428</td>
+<td align="left">1,109,801.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Product of 1859, $175,690,628</td>
+<td align="left">$99,894,070.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Agricultural, $132,440,682</td>
+<td align="left">$82,792,070.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Total product, per capita, $130.10</td>
+<td align="left">$90.01.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span>Product of agriculture, per capita, $90.68</td>
+<td align="left">$74.60.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1800, 0.14</td>
+<td align="left">2.31.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile, 1860, 39.63</td>
+<td align="left">24.34.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Absolute increase of population, from 1850 to 1860, per square mile, 10.72</td>
+<td align="left">2.35.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Relative rank in 1800, 20</td>
+<td align="left">15.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Relative rank in 1860, 6</td>
+<td align="left">10.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Farm lands improved and unimproved, 16,315,776 acres</td>
+<td align="left">20,355,934 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Improved do., 8,161,717 acres</td>
+<td align="left">6,897,974 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of farm lands, $344,903,776</td>
+<td align="left">$272,555,054.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ditto, per acre, $21.13</td>
+<td align="left">$13.39.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value of product per acre of improved and unimproved farm lands, $8.17</td>
+<td align="left">$4.06.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ditto, of Improved farm lands, $16.26</td>
+<td align="left">$12.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Volumes in public libraries, 68,403</td>
+<td align="left">22,896.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Pupils at public schools and colleges, 168,754</td>
+<td align="left">115,750.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Free States of 1790.</span></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Slave States of 1790.</span></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Namely: Massachusetts (then including Maine), Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Vermont, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.</td>
+<td align="left">Namely: Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky, and Tennessee.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 169,668 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">300,580 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1790, 1,968,459</td>
+<td align="left">1,961,372.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population in 1860, 10,594,168</td>
+<td align="left">7,414,684.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1790, 11.60</td>
+<td align="left">6.50.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Population per square mile in 1860, 62.44</td>
+<td align="left">24.66.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Increase of population per square mile, from 1790 to 1860, 50.84</td>
+<td align="left">18.14.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<th><span class="smcap">Free States of 1860.</span></th>
+<th><span class="smcap">Slave States of 1860.</span></th>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Area, 835,631 square miles</td>
+<td align="left">888,591 square miles.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Farm lands, 161,462,000 acres</td>
+<td align="left">248,721,062 acres.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value, $4,067,947,286</td>
+<td align="left">$2,570,466,935.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Value per acre, $25.19</td>
+<td align="left">$10.46.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Total product of 1859, namely: of agriculture, manufactures, mines, and fisheries, $4,150,000,000</td>
+<td align="left">$1,140,000,000.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Per capita, $217</td>
+<td align="left">$93.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Copies of press issued in 1860, 760,034,360</td>
+<td align="left">167,917,188.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">By Table 157 (Census of 1850), ratio of native white adults who cannot read or write, 4.12 per cent.</td>
+<td align="left">17.23 per cent. (more than 4 to 1).</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Same Tables for Census of 1860, partially estimated, 3.21 per cent</td>
+<td align="left">17.03 percent. (more than 5 to 1).</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">Whole additional value of all the Slave States, whether farm lands or unoccupied, if worth as much per acre as those of the Free States, $5,859,246,616.
+<br /><br />Total value of products of the Slave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span> States in 1859, if equal per capita to those of the Free States, $2,653,631,032.<br /><br />
+Deduct actual products of 1859, $1,140,000,000.<br /><br />
+Absolute increase of 1859, if Free States $1,513,631,032.<br /><br />
+That is, the <i>additional</i> value of the actual products of the Slave States, caused by emancipation, $1,513,631,032.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Total value of all the property, real and personal, of the Free States in 1860, $10,852,081,081.</td>
+<td align="left">Ditto, of all the Slave States, including slaves, $5,225,307,034.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Annual gross profit of capital, 39 per cent.</td>
+<td align="left">22 per cent.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left">If we could add the annual earnings of commerce (not included in the Census Tables), the yearly product
+of the Free States per capita would be almost triple that of the Slave States, the commerce of New York alone being nearly equal to that of the entire South.</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Total agricultural product of Free States in 1859, $2,527,676,000</td>
+<td align="left">$862,324,000 (Slave States).</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Agricultural product of Free States per capita in 1859, $131.48</td>
+<td align="left">Ditto of Slave States per capita in 1859, $70.56</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ditto, per acre in 1859, improved and unimproved lands, $15.65</td>
+<td align="left">$3.58</td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left">Ditto, per acre, improved lands, $28.68</td>
+<td align="left">$11.55</td>
+</tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<p>It is thus demonstrated by the official statistics of the Census of the
+United States, from 1790 to 1860, that the total annual product of the
+Free States <i>per capita</i> exceeds that of the Slave States, largely more
+than two to one, and, including commerce, very nearly three to one. As
+regards education, also, we see that the ratio in favor of the Free
+States is more than four to one in 1850 (4.12 to 17.23), and, in 1860,
+more than five to one (3.21 to 17.03). And even as regards agricultural
+products, we have seen that those of the Free States were $2,527,676,000
+per annum, and of the Slave States only $862,324,000. The value of the
+lands of the Free States was $25.19 per acre, of the Slave States only
+$10.46 per acre; the product of the improved lands of the Free States
+was $26.68 <i>per acre</i> and of the Slave States $11.55, while, <i>per
+capita</i>, the result was $131.48 to $70.56.</p>
+
+<p>These facts prove how much greater the crops of the Slave States would
+be, if their farms (including cotton) were cultivated by free labor. It
+is also thus demonstrated how completely the fertile lands of the South
+are exhausted and reduced in value by slave culture. Having thus proved,
+deductively, the ruinous effects of slavery, I will proceed, in my next
+letter, inductively, to exhibit the causes which have produced these
+remarkable results.</p>
+
+<p class="author">
+<span class="smcap">R. J. Walker.</span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="AENONE" id="AENONE"></a>&AElig;NONE:</h2>
+
+<h3>A TALE OF SLAVE LIFE IN ROME.</h3>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4>
+
+<p>The day wore quietly on, like any other day; for the confusion and
+turmoil of the ovation were already a half-forgotten thing of the past,
+and Rome had again subsided into its usual course: in the earlier hours,
+a city of well-filled streets, astir and vocal with active and vigorous
+trade and labor; then&mdash;as the noontide sun shed from the brazen sky a
+molten glow, that fell like fire upon the lava pavement, and glanced
+from polished walls until the whole atmosphere seemed like a furnace&mdash;a
+city seemingly deserted, except by a few slaves, engaged in removing the
+triumphal arches hung with faded and lifeless flowers, and by a soldier
+here and there in glistening armor, keeping a lonely watch; and
+again&mdash;as the sun sank toward the west, and, with the lengthening
+shadows, the intensity of the heat diminished&mdash;a city flooded with
+wealth and fashion, pouring in confused streams hither and thither,
+through its broadest avenues and forums&mdash;groups of idlers sauntering
+along to watch the inoccupation of others, and with the prospective bath
+as the pretence for the stroll&mdash;matrons and maidens of high degree, with
+attendants following them&mdash;a rattle of gayly caparisoned chariots, with
+footmen trotting beside the wheels&mdash;guards on horseback&mdash;detachments of
+pr&aelig;torian soldiers passing up and down&mdash;here the car of a senator of the
+broad purple&mdash;there the mounted escort of a Syrian governor&mdash;all that
+could speak of magnificence, wealth, and authority, at that hour
+thronged the pavement.</p>
+
+<p>Leaving the Vanno palace, &AElig;none joined herself to this moving concourse.
+At her side walked one of her bondwomen, and, at a pace or two behind,
+properly attired, and armed only with a short sword, strode the armor
+bearer. Thus attended, she pressed forward along the Appian Way toward
+the outskirts of the city&mdash;past broad palaces and villas, with
+encircling gardens and open paved courts&mdash;past shrubberies, fish ponds,
+and statue-crowned terraces&mdash;past public baths, through whose broad
+doorways the people swarmed by hundreds, and whose steps were thronged
+with waiting slaves; now stopping until the armor bearer, running to the
+front, could make a passage for her through some crowd denser than
+ordinary&mdash;then gliding onward with more rapid pace, as the way became
+clearer&mdash;and again arresting herself for a moment as the stream of
+people also tarried to watch the approach of the gorgeous chariot and
+richly uniformed guards of the emperor Titus Vespasian. At length,
+turning the corner of a pillar-porticoed temple, which stood back from
+the street, and up the gentle ascent of whose steps a concourse of
+priests and attendants were forcing a garland-decked bullock,
+unconscious of the sacrificial rites which awaited him within, she stood
+beyond the surging of the crowd and in a quiet little street.</p>
+
+<p>It was a narrow avenue, in whose humble architecture brick took the
+place of stone; but by no means mean or filthy, like so many of the
+streets of similar width in the central portion of the city. Stretching
+out toward the open country, and not given up to merchandise or slave
+quarters, its little houses had their gardens and clustering vines about
+them, supplying with the picturesque whatever was wanting in
+magnificence, and evidencing a pleasant medium between wealth and
+pov<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span>erty. The paved roadway was clean and unbroken; and far down as the
+eye could reach no life could be seen, except a single slave with a
+fruit basket balanced upon his head, and near him a group of children at
+play.</p>
+
+<p>Passing down this street, &AElig;none came to a spot where one of the great
+aqueducts which supplied the city, crossed the roadway diagonally with a
+single span. At the right hand stood a small brick house, built into the
+nearest arch so snugly that it seemed as though its occupants could
+almost hear the gurgling of the water flowing overhead from the hills of
+Albanus. Like the other houses in its neighborhood, it had a small
+courtyard in front, planted with a shrub or two. This was the home of
+her father, the centurion Porthenus. Stopping here, she was about to
+enter without warning, according to her usual custom, but as she
+advanced, a dwarf, whom she recognized as the same which that morning
+had so eagerly presented himself for notice in the front of her
+husband's captives, sprang forward, grinned his recognition of the armor
+bearer, made another grimace expressive of mingled respect and
+admiration for herself, threw open the door, and ushered her in with an
+outburst of ceremonious pride befitting an imperial reception.</p>
+
+<p>At a back window of the house, from whence the line of aqueduct could be
+seen for some distance leaping houses and streets in its undeviating
+course to the centre of the city, sat the centurion. He was a man of
+medium height, short necked, and thick set, with blunted features and
+grizzled hair and beard. Two of the fingers of his left hand were
+wanting, and a broad scar, the trophy of a severe skirmish among the
+Alemanni, crossed his right cheek and one side of his nose, giving him
+an expression more curious than pleasing. His general appearance was
+after the common type of an old, war-worn soldier, rough and
+unscrupulous by nature, hardened by camp life and dissipation, grown
+cruel by excess of petty authority, overbearing with his inferiors,
+jovial and complaisant with his equals, cringing to his superiors, and
+with an air of discontent overlaying every other expression, as though
+he was continually tortured with the belief that his success in life had
+not equalled his merits. As &AElig;none entered, he was bending over a shield,
+and earnestly engaged in burnishing its brazen mouldings. At his side
+leaned a short sword, awaiting similar attention, and in a rack beside
+him were a number of weapons of different varieties and sizes, which had
+already submitted to his restorative skill, and now shone like glass.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing her light step, he looked up, arose, flung the shield into a
+corner, and, with a roar, as though ordering a battalion, called out to
+the grinning dwarf, who had followed her in:</p>
+
+<p>"Ho there, ape! A seat for my daughter, the wife of the imperator
+Sergius Vanno!"</p>
+
+<p>The dwarf sprang forward and dragged out a seat for her; having done
+which, he seemed about to yield to his curiosity and remain. But the
+centurion, disapproving of such freedom, made a lunge at him with the
+small sword, before which the dwarf retired with a precipitate leap, and
+joined the bondwoman and armor bearer outside. Then the father, being
+left alone with his daughter, embraced her, and uttered such words of
+welcome as his rough nature suggested.</p>
+
+<p>As regarded his intercourse with her, perhaps the most noticeable traits
+were the mingled reverence and familiarity with which he treated her. It
+seemed as though he was actuated by an ever-pervading consciousness that
+her exalted position demanded the observance of the deepest respect
+toward her; but that this feeling was connected in his mind with an
+unceasing struggle to remember that, after all, she was his own child,
+and as such was not entitled to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span> any undue consideration from him. Upon
+the present occasion, he first timidly touched her cheek with his lips
+and uttered a gentle and almost courtly salutation; but immediately
+recollecting himself, and appearing to become impressed with the belief
+that his unwitting deference was unworthy of the character of a father,
+he proceeded to atone for the mistake by a rough and discomposing
+embrace, and such a familiar and frolicksome greeting as none but a camp
+follower would have felt flattered with. Then, seating himself before
+her, he commenced his conversation in a rude and uncouth tone, and with
+rather a forced affectation of military bluntness; from which, however,
+as his eye dwelt upon the richness of her apparel and his mind began to
+succumb to the charm of her native refinement, he gradually and
+unconsciously subsided, in turn, into his former soft and deferential
+manner.</p>
+
+<p>'And so the imperator Sergius Vanno has returned,' he said, rolling upon
+his tongue, with evident satisfaction, that high-sounding title&mdash;once
+the acknowledged appellation of a conqueror, but now claimed as a right
+by the imperial line alone, and no longer elsewhere bestowed except as
+an informal and transitory compliment. 'It was a splendid ovation, and
+well earned by a glorious campaign. There is no one in all the Roman
+armies who could have managed it better.'</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, with unconscious inconsistency, he immediately began to
+show wherein the campaign could have been improved, and how many gross
+mistakes were visible in every portion of it&mdash;how the force of Mutius
+should have been diverged more in advancing inland&mdash;how, in the battle
+along the shore, the three-oared galleys of Agricola should have been
+drawn up to support the attack&mdash;the consequence of this omission, if the
+leading cohort had met with a repulse&mdash;and the like. All this he marked
+out upon the floor with a piece of coal, taking but little heed that
+&AElig;none could not follow him; and step by step, in the ardor of criticism,
+he advanced so far that he was soon ready to prove that the campaign had
+been most wofully misconducted, and was only indebted to accident for
+success.</p>
+
+<p>'But it is of little use for me to talk, if I cannot act as well,' he at
+length concluded, rising from the floor. 'And how could I act any part,
+placed as I am? The father of the wife of the imperator Sergius Vanno
+should be the leader of a cohort rather than of a mere century; and be
+otherwise lodged than in this poor place. Then would they listen to
+him.'</p>
+
+<p>He spoke bitterly and enviously, exhibiting in his whole tone as well as
+in his words his besetting weakness. For a while &AElig;none did not answer.
+It was as far from her duty as from her taste and pleasure to remind
+him, even if she could have done so to his comprehension, that her
+husband had already advanced him as far as was possible or fitting, and
+had otherwise provided for him in various ways as well as could
+reasonably be expected. The views of the centurion were of a far
+different nature. In giving his daughter to the patrician he had meanly
+intended thereby to rise high in life&mdash;had anticipated ready promotion
+beyond what his ignorance would have justified&mdash;had supposed that he
+would be admitted upon an equal social footing among the friends of
+Sergius, not realizing that his own native roughness and brutishness
+must have forbidden such a connection&mdash;had dazzled his eyes too wilfully
+with pictures of the wealth and influence and glory that would fall to
+his lot. As long, therefore, as so many of those gilded imaginings had
+failed in their promise, it seemed as nothing to him that Sergius, in
+the first flush of admiration for the daughter, had removed the father
+from rough provincial to more pleasing and relaxing urban duties, had
+purchased him a house befitting his station, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span> had lightened his
+condition in various ways.</p>
+
+<p>'But we are gradually doing better,' &AElig;none said at length, striving to
+cheer him by identifying her fortunes more nearly with his own, 'This is
+a finer place than we had to live in at Ostia. Think how narrow and
+crowded we were then. And now I see that we have a new slave to open for
+us, while at Ostia we had only old Mitus. Indeed, we are very
+comfortable.'</p>
+
+<p>'Ay, ay,' growled the centurion; 'a new slave&mdash;a dwarf or idiot, or what
+not&mdash;just such a creature as would not bring five sestertia in the
+market; and, therefore, the imperator has cast him to me, like a bare
+bone to a dog. Tell him I thank him for the gift. And in this matter it
+has been with me as always heretofore&mdash;either no luck at all, or too
+much. How often have I not passed a campaign without taking a prisoner,
+while they fell in crowds to all around me? And when at last I gained my
+share, when was it ever of any value to me, being hundreds of miles from
+a market? And here it is the same again. For months, no slave at all;
+and then all at once there are two, and I shall be,eaten out of my
+house.'</p>
+
+<p>'Two, father?'</p>
+
+<p>'Listen to me. No sooner did your honored lord send me this dwarf, than
+arrives Tisiphon of the twelfth cohort. He had long owed me a slave; and
+now that a captive, poor and feeble, and likely to die, had fallen into
+his hands, he thought it a fair opportunity to acquit himself toward me.
+But for once Tisiphon has cheated himself. The slave he brought was weak
+and sick, but it was only from want of food and rest. The fellow will
+recover, and I will yet make much of him. Would you see him? Look out of
+the back window there. He will turn out a fine slave yet, and, if this
+dwarf had not come, would be right pleasing to me. But two of them! How
+shall I find bread for both?'</p>
+
+<p>&AElig;none walked to the window, and leaned out. The courtyard behind was but
+limited in size, containing a few squares of burnt brick arranged for
+pavement around a small plot of grass at the foot of a single plane
+tree. The slave of whom the centurion spoke was seated upon this plot,
+with his back against the tree, and his head bent over, while, with
+vacant mind, he watched the play of a small green lizard. As she
+appeared at the window, he raised his eyes toward her, then dropped them
+again upon the ground. It was hardly, in fact, as much as could be
+called a look&mdash;a mere glance, rather, a single tremor of the drooping
+lid, a mute appeal for sympathy, as though there had been an inner
+instinct which, at that instant, had directed him to her, as one who
+could feel pity for his trouble and desolation. But at that glance,
+joined to something strangely peculiar in the captive's figure and
+attitude, a nervous thrill shot through &AElig;none's heart, causing her to
+hold her breath in unreasoning apprehension; a fear of something which
+she could not explain, a dim consciousness of some forgotten association
+of the past arising to confront her, but which she could not for the
+moment identify. And still she looked out, resisting the impulse of
+dread which bade her move away, fixing a strained gaze upon the captive,
+in a vain struggle to allay, by one moment of calm scrutiny, that
+phantom of her memory which, act as she might, would not be repressed,
+but which each instant seemed to expand into clearer certainty before
+her.</p>
+
+<p>'Do you see him? Does he appear to you a worthy slave?' cried the
+centurion.</p>
+
+<p>'A worthy slave, indeed,' she answered, in a low tone, feeling compelled
+to make some response.</p>
+
+<p>At her voice, the captive again raised his head, and looked into her
+face; not now with a hasty, timid glance, but with the full gaze of one
+who believes he has been spoken to, and waits for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span> renewal of the
+question. And as she met the inquiring look, &AElig;none turned away and sank
+back in terror and dismay. She knew it all, now, nor could she longer
+deceive herself by vain pretences or assurances. The instinct which, at
+the first had filled her soul with that unexplained dread, had not been
+false to her. For that glance, as it now rested upon her with, longer
+duration and deeper intensity, too surely completed the suggestion
+which, at the first it had faintly whispered to her, flashing into her
+heart the long-stifled memories of the past, recalling the time when, a
+few years before, she had sat upon the rock at Ostia, and had gazed down
+upon eyes lifted to meet her own with just so beseeching an appeal, and
+telling her too truly that she stood again in the presence of him to
+whom she had then promised her girlish faith, and whom she had so long
+since looked upon as dead to her.</p>
+
+<p>'I will call him in,' said the centurion, 'and you can see him closer.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nay, nay, father; let him remain where he is,' she exclaimed, in
+uncontrollable dread of recognition.</p>
+
+<p>'Ha! art not afraid, girl?' demanded the old man. 'He can do no hurt,
+even were he stronger; and now that he is weak, a child could lead him
+with a string. Come hither, sirrah!'</p>
+
+<p>The captive arose, smoothed down his tunic, and, obediently entering the
+house, awaited commands; while &AElig;none, with as quiet movement as
+possible, shrunk, into the most distant corner of the room. What if he
+should recognize her, and should call upon her by name, not knowing her
+changed position, or recollecting his own debasement into slavery? What
+explanation other than the true one could she give to account for his
+audacity, and save him from the chastisement which the offended
+centurion would prepare to bestow upon him? This was but a momentary
+fear, however, since she felt that the increasing glow of evening, added
+to her own alteration by dress, and the certainty that he would not
+expect to meet her thus, found a sure protection against recognition, as
+long as she took care not to risk betrayal by her voice or manner. And,
+perhaps, after all&mdash;and her heart lightened somewhat at the thought&mdash;it
+might be that her reason had too freely yielded to an insane fancy, and
+allowed her to be deceived by a chance resemblance.</p>
+
+<p>'How is he called?' she inquired, disguising her voice as thoroughly as
+she could. The instant she had spoken she would have retracted her
+words, if possible, from the mere fear lest her father, in his response,
+might mention her name. But it luckily chanced that the centurion did
+not do so.</p>
+
+<p>'How is he called? Nay, that thing I had not thought to ask as yet. Your
+name, slave?'</p>
+
+<p>'Cleotos.'</p>
+
+<p>At the word, the blood again flew back to her heart. There could now no
+longer be a doubt. How often had she repeated that name endearingly, in
+those early days of her first romance in life!</p>
+
+<p>'Cleotos,' said the centurion. 'It is a brave name. There was once a
+leader of a full phalanx with that name, and he did well to the empire.
+It is, therefore, scarcely a name for a slave to bear. But we will talk
+some other time about that. It is of thine appearance now, that we will
+speak. Is he not, after all, a pleasing youth? Did Tisiphon so surely
+deceive me as he intended, when he gave the man to me? See! there is but
+little brawn and muscle to him, I grant; and therefore he will not make
+a good gladiator or even spearman; but he has a comely shape, which will
+fit him well for a page or palace usher. And, therefore, I will sell him
+for such. He should bring a good price, indeed, when the marks of his
+toil and sickness have gone off from him, and he has been fattened into
+better condition. But two of them!' continued the centurion, suddenly
+recurring to his former<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span> source of grief. 'How can I fatten him when
+there are two of them? How find bread for both? And yet he is not so
+very thin, now. I will light a lamp, daughter, for it has grown quite
+dark, and you shall come nearer and examine him.'</p>
+
+<p>'Nay! nay!' exclaimed &AElig;none, in hurried resistance of this new danger.
+'Not now. I am no judge of the merits of captives, and it is getting
+late. I know that my lord will be expecting me, and perchance will be
+vexed if I delay.'</p>
+
+<p>'Be it so, then,' responded the other. 'And as it is dark, it is not
+befitting that you should go without escort. Take, therefore&mdash;'</p>
+
+<p>'I have the armor bearer for my escort, father.'</p>
+
+<p>'It is something, but not enough,' said the centurion. 'Enough for
+safety, but not for dignity. Remember that, while on the one hand you
+are the wife of the imperator Sergius Vanno, you are also a daughter of
+the house of Porthenus&mdash;a family which was powerful in the far-off days
+of the republic, long before the house of Vanno had begun to take root,'
+he continued, in a tone of pride. For then, as now, poverty consoled
+itself for its privations by dreams&mdash;whether well or ill founded, it
+mattered but little&mdash;of grandeurs which had once existed; and it was one
+of the weaknesses of the centurion to affect superiority of blood, and
+try to believe that therein he enjoyed compensations beyond anything
+that wealth could bestow.</p>
+
+<p>'Of the house of Porthenus,' he repeated, 'and should therefore be
+suitably attended. So let this new slave follow behind. And take, also,
+the dwarf. He is not of soldierly appearance, but for all that he will
+count as one more.'</p>
+
+<p>Fearful of offending her father by a refusal, or of encountering
+additional risks of recognition by a more prolonged conversation at the
+doorway, now brightened by the light of the newly risen moon, &AElig;none
+hastily assented, and started upon her homeward route. Clinging closely
+to the side of her bondwoman, not daring to look back for a parting
+adieu to her father, who stood at the door leaning upon his sword, and
+grimly smiling with delight at fancying his child at last attended as
+became a scion of the house of Porthenus&mdash;not regarding the
+half-smothered oaths and exclamations of contempt with which the armor
+bearer behind her surveyed his two new companions upon guard&mdash;she
+pressed rapidly on, with the sole desire of reaching her house and
+secluding herself from further danger of recognition.</p>
+
+<p>The moon rose higher, silvering the city with charms of new beauty,
+gleaming upon the surface of the swift-rolling Tiber, giving fresh
+radiance to the marble palaces and temples, adding effect to whatever
+was already beautiful, diminishing the deformity of whatever was
+unlovely, even imparting a pleasant aspect of cheerfulness to the lower
+quarters of the city, where lay congregated poverty and dishonor and
+crime. The Appian Way no longer swarmed with the crowd that had trodden
+it an hour ago. The priests had completed the sacrifice and left the
+temple, the bathers had departed, the slaves no longer lingered upon the
+porticos, and the riders in gay chariots no more were to be seen. A
+calmer and more quiet occupancy of the street had ensued. Here and there
+a soldier paced to and fro, looking up at the moon and down again, at
+the glistening river, and thought, perhaps, upon other night watches in
+Gallia, when just such a moon had gleamed upon the silver Rhone. Here
+and there two lovers, loth to abandon such a pleasant light and warmth,
+strolled slowly along, and, as lovers have ever done, bade the moon
+witness their vows. But not the river or the moonlight did &AElig;none now
+linger to look upon, nor lovers' vows did she think about, as she glided
+hastily toward her own home. The peace<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span>fulness and quiet of nature found
+no response in her heart. Her only emotion was one of dread lest each
+ray of light might shine too brightly upon her&mdash;lest even her walk might
+betray her&mdash;lest every sound might be an unguarded recognition from the
+poor, unconscious captive behind her.</p>
+
+<p>At length she reached her home, passed up the broad flight of steps in
+front, and stood panting within the doorway. A momentary pause ere she
+entered, and then, unable to continue the control which she had so far
+maintained over herself, she turned and cast one hasty, curious glance
+below. The two new slaves of the centurion stood side by side in the
+street, gazing up at the palace walls, the dwarf with a grin of almost
+idiotic glee, the other with a grave air of quiet contemplation. But
+what was that sudden look of startled recognition that suddenly flashed
+across the features of the latter? Why did his face turn so ghastly pale
+in the moonlight, and his limbs seem to fail him, so that he grasped his
+companion's arm for support? &AElig;none shrank terrified into the obscurity
+of the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>But in an instant she recovered her self-possession. It must be that he
+had been faint or giddy, nothing more. It could not have been
+recognition that had startled him from his earnest contemplation, for he
+had not been looking toward her, but, with his body half turned away,
+had been gazing up at the highest story of the palace.</p>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4>
+
+<p>And now, having avoided the immediate peril of recognition, &AElig;none turned
+into the palace. Even there, however, her disordered fancy pictured
+dangers still encompassing her. How, after all, could she feel sure that
+she had not been known? During that clear moonlight passage along the
+Appian Way, what revelations might not have been made by a chance look
+or gesture! At the very first she had almost stumbled upon the truth
+merely through the magic of one upward glance of the eye of the wearied
+slave; why, then, might she not have unconsciously revealed herself to
+him by even a wave of the hand or a turn of the instep, or by some other
+apparently trivial and unimportant motion? And if so, at what instant
+might he not forget his fallen condition, and disregard not only his
+safety but her reputation, by pressing into the palace and claiming the
+right of speech with her? Rasher deeds were not seldom done under the
+promptings of desperation. Trembling beneath the sway of such
+imaginings, each footfall that resounded in the hall seemed like the
+light and buoyant step of him who had trodden with her the sands of
+Ostia&mdash;each figure that passed by bore, for the instant, the outline of
+his form&mdash;even at the open window the well-known face seemed to peer in
+at every corner and watch her.</p>
+
+<p>This paroxysm of terror gradually passed away, but was succeeded by
+other fancies equally productive of inquietude. What if the captive,
+having recognized her, had whispered his story to the companions with
+whom he had walked! He would surely not do so if he still loved her; but
+what if his love had ceased, and he should be meanly desirous of
+increasing his own importance by telling how he, a slave, had been the
+chosen lover of the proudly allied lady before him? Nay, he would never
+act thus, for it would be a baseness foreign to his nature; and yet have
+not men of the most lofty sense of honor often fallen from their
+original nobility, and revelled in self-degradation? And it somehow
+seemed as though, at the last, the dwarf had looked up at her with a
+strangely knowing leer. And was it merely her imagination that made her
+think there was a certain sly approach to undue familiarity in the
+usually deferential deportment of the armor bearer?</p>
+
+<p>With the next morning, however, came more composed reflections. Though
+the forebodings of the evening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span> had naturally tinged her dreams with
+similar vague imaginings of coming trouble, yet, upon the whole, her
+sleep had brought rest, and the bright sunlight streaming in at the
+window drove away the phantoms which, during the previous gloom, had so
+confusedly disported themselves in her bewildered brain. She could now
+indulge in a more cheering view of her situation; and she felt that
+there was nothing in what had transpired of sufficient importance, when
+coolly weighed and passed upon, to make her anxious or afraid.</p>
+
+<p>In a sick and travel-worn slave she had recognized one to whom, in her
+younger days, she had plighted her faith, and who had, in turn, given
+his faith to her. He was now a captive, and she had become one of the
+nobles of the empire. But his evil lot had not been of her procuring,
+being merely one of those ill fortunes which are cast broadly over the
+earth, and whose descent upon any one person more than upon another can
+be attributed to destiny alone. Nor, in accepting her high position, had
+she been guilty of breach of faith, for she had long awaited the return
+of her lover, and he had not come. And through all those years, as she
+had grown into more mature womanhood, she had vaguely felt that those
+stolen interviews had been but the unreasoning suggestions of girlish
+romance, too carelessly indifferent to the exigencies of poverty and
+diverse nationality; and that, if he had ever returned to claim her,
+mutual explanation and forgetfulness could have been their only proper
+course. There was, therefore, nothing for which she could reproach
+herself, or for which he could justly blame her, were he to recognize
+her as the wife of another man.</p>
+
+<p>But there was little chance, indeed, that such a recognition could take
+place. Certainly, now that, apart from her troubled and excited fears of
+the previous day, she more deliberately weighed the chances, she felt
+assured that in her rapid passage through the evening gloom, nothing
+could have betrayed her. And it was not probable that even in open
+daylight and in face-to-face encounter with him he would be likely to
+know her. She had recognized him almost at a glance, for not only was
+his dress composed of the same poor and scant material which had served
+him years before, but even in form and feature he seemed unchanged, his
+slight frame having gained no expansion as his manhood had progressed,
+while his face retained in every line the same soft and almost girlish
+expression. But with herself all things had altered. It was not merely
+that the poorly clad maiden who, with naked feet, well-tanned hands, and
+tangled and loosely hanging curls, had been wont to wander carelessly by
+the shore of a distant bay, had become a richly adorned matron of the
+imperial centre. Beyond all that, there was a greater change, which,
+though in its gradual progress almost inappreciable to one who had
+watched her day by day, could not but be remarked after a lapse of many
+years. The darker hair, the softer complexion, the suave smile into
+which the merry laugh of girlhood had little by little subsided, the
+more composed mien, replete with matronly dignity, the refinement of air
+and attitude insensibly resulting from long continued instinctive
+imitation, the superior development of figure&mdash;all these, as they were
+improvements in her former self, were also just so many effective
+disguises upon which she could safely rely, unless she were to provoke
+inordinate scrutiny by some unguarded action or expression. But all this
+she would earnestly guard against. She would even put no trust in the
+natural immunity of which her reason assured her, but would make
+everything doubly safe by totally refraining from any encounter with one
+whose recognition of her would be so painful.</p>
+
+<p>This she could do, and yet not fail in any friendly duty which the
+remem<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span>brance of their former love might enjoin upon her. Unseen in her
+retirement, she could watch over and protect him, now that in his sorrow
+and degradation he so greatly needed a friend. She could ameliorate his
+lot by numberless kindnesses, which he would enjoy none the less for
+being unable to detect their source. She would cunningly influence her
+father to treat him with tenderness and consideration. And when the
+proper time arrived, and she could take her measures without suspicion,
+she would herself purchase his freedom, and send him back rejoicing to
+his native land. And when all this was done, and he should again have
+reached his home, perhaps she might then write to him one line to tell
+him who it was that had befriended him, and that she had done so in
+memory of olden times, and that now, when she was so far removed from
+him, he should give her one kind thought, utter a prayer to the gods in
+her behalf, and then forget her forever.</p>
+
+<p>So much for her security and her friendly duty. As for the feelings of
+her heart, she was at rest. Strong in self-confidence, she had no fear
+that her mind could be influenced to stray from its proper path. It is
+true that during the previous evening, in the first tumult of troubled
+thought, she had felt a vague presentiment that a day of temptation
+might be before her, not as the result of any deliberate choice upon her
+part, but rather as a cruel destiny to be forced upon her. But now the
+current of her mind moved more clearly and unobstructedly; and she felt
+that however chance might control the worldly prosperity of each one,
+the will and strength to shape his own destiny, for good or evil, are
+still left to him unimpaired. Away, then, with all thoughts of the past.
+In her heart there could be but one affection, and to her life there
+could be but the one course of duty, and in that she would steadfastly
+walk.</p>
+
+<p>Strengthened, therefore, with the well-assured belief that the impulsive
+affection of her youth had become gradually tempered by lapse of years
+into a chaste and sisterly friendship, and that the pleasant memories
+which clustered about her heart and made her look back half regretfully
+upon those former days would be cherished only as the mere innocent
+relics of a girlish romance, she felt no fear that her faith could be
+led to depart from its lawful allegiance. But aside from all this, there
+lurked within her breast an uneasy sense of being the holder of a great
+secret which, in the end, would surely crush her, unless she could share
+its burden with another. In this desire for confidence, at least, there
+could be no harm; and her mind rapidly ran over the array of her few
+friends. For the first time in her life, perhaps, her isolation from
+close and unfettered companionship with others was forced upon her
+attention, and her soul grew faint as she thought upon her dependence
+upon herself alone for comfort or advice. To whom, indeed, could she
+venture to pour out her heart? Not to her father, who, with unreasoning
+ignorance and little charity, would coarsely form base conclusions about
+her, and would most likely endeavor to solve the problem by cruelty to
+the unfortunate slave who had so unwittingly originated it. Not to any
+of those matrons of whom her rank made her the associate; and who, after
+gaining her confidence, would either betray it to others, or else,
+wrongly misconstruing her, and fancying her to be influenced by scruples
+which they might not have felt, would scarcely fail to ridicule and cast
+disdain upon all the most tender emotions of her heart. And above all
+others, not to her husband, to whom, if she dared, she would have wished
+to reveal everything, but who had, she feared, at the bottom of his
+soul, a jealous and suspicious nature, which would be sure to take
+alarm, and cause him to look upon her story, not as a generous
+confidence be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span>stowed in the hope of comfort and assistance, but rather
+as a cunningly devised cover for some unconfessed scheme of wrong
+against him.</p>
+
+<p>Burdened by these reflections, &AElig;none slowly passed from her room into
+the antechamber. Lifting her eyes, she there saw her husband standing at
+the window, and, at the distance of a pace or two from him, a female
+figure. It was that of a girl of about eighteen years, small, light, and
+graceful. Her costume, though not in form such as belonged to the
+freeborn women of Rome, was yet far superior in richness of material to
+that usually worn by persons of low degree, and was fashioned with a
+taste which could not fail to assist the display of her graceful
+perfection of form, indicated in part by the rounded lines of the
+uncovered neck and arms. As &AElig;none entered the room, Sergius advanced,
+and, taking her by the hand, said:</p>
+
+<p>'Yonder is a new slave for you&mdash;the present about which I yesterday
+spoke. I trust it will prove that during my absence I was not unmindful
+of you. It was at Samos that I obtained her. There, you may remember, we
+tarried, after taking the town and burning part of the fleet.'</p>
+
+<p>Samos! Where had &AElig;none heard that place mentioned? Searching into the
+recesses of her memory, it at last flashed upon her. Was it not from
+Samos that he&mdash;Cleotos&mdash;had come? And was it fate that forced the
+recollection of him ever upon her? She turned pale, but by a violent
+effort succeeded in maintaining her self-possession and looking up with
+a smile of apparent interest upon her husband as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>'She had nearly fallen the prey of one of the common soldiers,' he
+continued; 'but I, with a few pieces of gold, rescued her from him,
+picturing to myself the gratification you would feel at being so fitly
+attended. And that you might the better appreciate the gift, I have
+retained her till to-day before showing her to you, in order that you
+might first see her recovered from the toil of travel and in all her
+recovered beauty. A rare beauty, indeed, but of a kind so different from
+thine that your own will be heightened by the contrast rather than
+diminished. How many sestertia I have been offered for her, how many
+high officers of my forces have desired to obtain her for service upon
+their own wives, I cannot now remember. But I have refused and resisted
+all, for I would that you should be known throughout all Rome by the
+beauty of those in waiting about you, even as you are now known by your
+own beauty. Pray, accept of her, therefore, as your attendant and
+companion, for it would sorely disappoint me were you to reject such a
+pleasing gift.'</p>
+
+<p>'Let it be as my lord says,' responded &AElig;none. 'And if I fail in due
+utterance of my thanks, impute it not to want of appreciation of the
+gift, but rather to inability of proper expression.'</p>
+
+<p>It was with real gratitude that &AElig;none spoke; for, at the instant, a
+thought of cheering import flashed upon her, swelling her heart with
+joy, and causing her to welcome the captive girl as a gift from the
+gods. Here, perhaps, as though in direct answer to her prayer for
+sympathy, might be the one for whom her heart had been longing; coming
+to her, not laden with any of that haughty pride and ill-befitting
+knowledge with which the Roman world about her reeked, but rather as she
+herself had once come&mdash;with all her unstained provincial innocence of
+thought yet nestling in her shrinking soul&mdash;one, like herself, an exile
+from a lowly state, and with a heart filled with those simple memories
+which must not be too carelessly exposed&mdash;so seldom do they gather from
+without anything but cruel ridicule or cold lack of comprehension&mdash;one
+whom she could educate into an easy intimacy with her own impulses and
+yearnings, and thus, forgetting all social differences, draw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span> closer and
+nearer to her as a friend and confidant.</p>
+
+<p>As she thus reflected, she felt the soft pressure of lips upon her left
+hand, which hung idly at her side, and, looking down, she saw that the
+captive girl had knelt before her, and, while lightly grasping her
+fingers, was gazing up into her face with a pleading glance. &AElig;none's
+first impulse was to respond with eager warmth to that humble appeal for
+protection and friendship; and had it not been for the morbid fear she
+felt lest her husband, who stood looking on, might chide such
+familiarity, or at the least might cast ridicule upon the feeling which
+prompted it, she would have raised the captive girl and folded her in
+her arms. As it was, the impulse was too spontaneous and sudden to be
+entirely resisted, and she held forth her other hand to lift the
+kneeling figure, when a strange, intuitive perception of something which
+she could scarcely explain, caused her to withhold further action.</p>
+
+<p>Something, she knew not what, in the attitude and expression of the
+captive before her, which sent her warm blood flowing back with a
+chilled current&mdash;something which told her that her hopes of the moment
+had been smitten with decay as suddenly as they had been raised, and
+that, instead of a friend, she had perhaps found an enemy. The full dark
+eye yet gazed up at her with the same apparent moistened appeal for
+friendly sympathy; but to &AElig;none's alarmed instinct it now seemed as
+though behind that glance there was an inner depth of cold, calculating
+scrutiny. Still, almost unheeding the gentle gesture of the hand
+extended to raise her, the Greek knelt upon the floor, and, with an
+appearance of mingled timorousness and humility, laid her lips upon the
+gathered fingers; but now there appeared to be no natural warmth or glow
+in the pressure or real savor of lowliness in the attitude, but rather a
+forced and studied obsequiousness. For the instant &AElig;none paused, as
+though uncertain how to act. Then, fearing to betray her doubts, and
+hoping that her startled instinct might have deceived her, she bent
+forward once more and raised the captive to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>It had all been the work of an instant; passing so quickly that the
+pause between the impulse and its completion could hardly have been
+noticed. But in that instant a change had swept over the expressions of
+both; and as they now stood opposite and gazed more intently upon each
+other, the change still progressed. The face of the young Roman matron,
+but a moment before so glowing with sympathy and radiant with a
+new-discovered hope of future happiness, now seemed to shrink behind a
+veil of despairing dread&mdash;the fear chasing away the joy as the shadow
+flits along the wall and banishes the sunlight; while, though every
+feature of the Greek still seemed clothed with trembling humility, yet,
+from some latent depths of her nature, a gleam of something strangely
+wild and forbidding began to play upon the surface, and invest the
+moistened eye and quivering lip with an undefinable repulsive harshness.</p>
+
+<p>'Your name?' said &AElig;none, rousing herself with exertion, as though from a
+painful dream.</p>
+
+<p>'Leta, my lady,' was the reply, uttered in a tone of despairing sadness,
+and with eyes again cast upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>'Leta,' repeated &AElig;none, touched in spite of her forebodings by that
+guise of an unhappiness which might, after all, be real. 'It is a
+fair-sounding name, and I shall call you always by it. Poor girl! you
+are an exile from your native land, and I&mdash;I cannot call myself a Roman.
+We must be friends&mdash;must we not?'</p>
+
+<p>She spoke rather in the tone of one hoping against evil auguries than as
+one indulging in any confident anticipations of the future. The Greek
+did not answer, but again slowly raised her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span> eyes. At first, as before,
+with the same studied expression of pleading humility; but, as she
+glanced forward, and saw Sergius standing behind, and gazing at her with
+an admiration which he did not attempt to dissemble, a strange glow of
+triumph and ambitious hope seemed to light up her features. And when,
+after a hasty glance of almost responsive meaning toward Sergius, she
+again looked into the face of the other, it was no longer with an
+assumption of humble entreaty, but rather with an expression of wild,
+searching intensity. Before it the milder gaze of &AElig;none faltered, until
+it seemed as though the two had suffered a relative interchange of
+position: the patrician mistress standing with troubled features, and
+with vague apprehension and trembling in her heart, and as though
+timorously asking for the friendship which she had meant to bestow; and
+the captive, calmly, and with a look of ill-suppressed triumph, reading
+the other's soul as though to learn how she could most readily wield
+supremacy over her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="OUR_DOMESTIC_RELATIONS_OR_HOW_TO_TREAT_THE_REBEL_STATES" id="OUR_DOMESTIC_RELATIONS_OR_HOW_TO_TREAT_THE_REBEL_STATES"></a>'OUR DOMESTIC RELATIONS; OR, HOW TO TREAT THE REBEL STATES.'</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the <i>Atlantic Monthly</i> for October, 1863, is an article with the
+above caption, in which the author, we think, develops ideas and
+theories totally at variance with the spirit of our Government, and
+which, if acted upon, and followed to their legitimate results, tend to
+subvert that self-government which is the privilege and pride of the
+American citizen. The result of his reflection is, that the States
+which, more conveniently than accurately, are termed the rebel States,
+have practically become Territories, and as such are to be governed by
+Congress. Is this proposition true? Let us examine&mdash;not hastily, not
+rashly, not vindictively, or in a party spirit&mdash;but wisely,
+magnanimously, and lovingly, and see if there be not a truer conclusion
+and one more in accordance with the spirit of our republican
+Constitution.</p>
+
+<p>When the rebel <i>States</i> (?) passed their respective ordinances of
+secession, what results flowed from the action? The political doctrine
+that the union of the States is not a mere confederation of separate
+States, but a consolidation, within the limits of the Constitution, of
+the different States, otherwise independent, into <i>one nation</i>, is now
+too well established to remain a subject of debate. We are not,
+therefore, members of a confederacy, but are a unit&mdash;one. It follows, as
+a matter of course, that no State can withdraw or hide itself from the
+control of the National Government. The ordinances of secession passed
+by the rebel States did not, therefore, affect the Federal authority.
+The broad and just ground taken by President Lincoln in his Inaugural
+Address was, that the rebel States were still <i>in</i> the Union; and it is,
+we apprehend, the only tenable ground of right upon which we can carry
+on the war in which we are now engaged. The Constitution of the United
+States requires (art. ii. sec. 3) that the President shall 'take care
+that the laws be faithfully executed.' When the present head of the
+executive came into office, in March, 1861, he found several of the
+States, having already seceded on paper, seeking to perfect their
+treason by 'the armed hand.' Lighthouses had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span> destroyed, or their
+beacon fires&mdash;the sentinels of the sea&mdash;shrouded in darkness, custom
+houses were given into rebel hands, the revenue cutters were
+surrendered, and deed followed deed in this dark drama of treason, until
+it was consummated by firing upon the unarmed Star of the West, while
+she was performing her errand of mercy, to relieve the hunger and
+re&euml;nforce the exhausted strength of the heroic little garrison of Fort
+Sumter. The plain and immediate duty of the President was, therefore, to
+call out the strength of the nation to assist him in 'taking care that
+the laws be faithfully executed.' And this brings us to the proposition
+that <i>the Government is not engaged in a war of conquest with another
+nation, but in enforcing the laws in what is already a part of the
+Union</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The Constitution (art. ii. sec. 2) makes the President the
+'commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the United States, and of
+the militia of the several States when called into the actual service of
+the United States.' In the President, and in him alone, supremely, is
+vested the authority which is to conduct the course of war. Congress has
+the war-making power, but war once brought into being (if we may be
+allowed the expression), the manner in which it shall be conducted rests
+with the executive. It is, of course, to be conducted in accordance with
+the laws of nations and of civilized warfare. The first step necessary
+to enable the President to enforce the laws in the seceded States is to
+put down the military power by which their execution is resisted. That
+is now being done. By the 'necessity of war,' then, the executive is
+authorized to take such measures as may be necessary to put down the
+rebellion; and though no power is given him to appoint Governors over
+the States in ordinary times, it <i>is</i> given him, indirectly, but as
+surely as if expressly granted, to be used in times of actual war, by
+the clause of the Constitution which we have just quoted, making him
+commander-in-chief of the national military force. Whenever the States,
+or any of them, cease to be debatable ground&mdash;that is, when the military
+force of the rebellion is put down, the military necessity ceases, and
+with it the authority of the President to appoint military governors.
+Nor is there danger of encroaching upon the liberties of the nation;
+for, as the power attaches to the President, not in his capacity as the
+civil head of the nation, but as the military commander-in-chief, it
+ceases the moment military opposition is overcome. The fear of the
+<i>Atlantic</i> author would seem to be ill grounded, for we cannot believe
+that any military force could be raised by a despotic executive who
+might endeavor to place himself in absolute power, and we think there is
+little danger that the Government may 'crystallize into a military
+despotism.' Would supplies be granted by Congress; or, if granted, would
+not the people of a country which has sprung to arms only to defend a
+<i>free</i> government, be strong enough to resist any single military
+despot? Let the history of the present rebellion, in which a population
+of only eight millions, and that in the least defensible States of the
+Union, has resisted for nearly three years the combined power of all the
+other States, with a population of more than twenty millions, answer the
+question. The <i>Atlantic</i> writer admits the propriety of appointing
+military governors in the cases of Mexico and California before the
+latter was admitted as a State, but denies it in the cases of the rebel
+States, because they are States, and therefore (as he says) within the
+civil jurisdiction. But at the period to which we refer, Congress had
+jurisdiction over both California and Mexico by the express provision of
+the Constitution (art. iv. sec. 3), 'the Congress shall have power to
+dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations concerning the
+territory or other property belonging to the United States.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span> If, then,
+the power of the President be admitted in the two cases referred to, it
+is even stronger in the cases of the rebel States, where no such power
+is given to Congress. And further it would seem that the act of
+admission to the Union would operate rather to take the Territory from
+under the jurisdiction of Congress, and give the right of government
+into the hands of the PEOPLE of the new State, even if their State
+officers did seek to betray them into treason. Our author asserts that
+'there is no argument for military governors that is not equally strong
+for Congressional governments; but we suspect his mistake here, as, in
+fact, his whole theory comes from his neglect to note that this
+appointing power attaches to the President, not as the civil head of the
+nation, but as military commander-in-chief under the necessity of war.</p>
+
+<p>To sum up the argument on this point, it stands thus: Neither Congress
+nor the President has power under the civil head to institute
+governments of their own in the rebel States: that power must arise, if
+at all, under the head of military necessity, and must attach to the
+commander-in-chief, viz., the President, and ceases the moment that
+necessity ceases. In the authority quoted from Chancellor Kent by the
+author of the <i>Atlantic</i>, we find nothing to shake our argument; for,
+though the power be, as the learned Chancellor says, 'to be exercised
+subordinate to the legislative powers of Congress,' still it is an
+executive power, and must be exercised by&mdash;must emanate from&mdash;the
+President. The same learned authority, from whose lucid and fascinating
+pages we enjoyed the first glimmerings of the 'gladsome light of
+jurisprudence,' says (vol. i. p. 264): 'The command and application of
+the public force, to execute the law, maintain peace, and resist foreign
+invasion, are powers so exclusively of an executive nature, and require
+the exercise of powers so characteristical of this department, that they
+have always been <i>exclusively</i> appropriated to it in every
+well-organized government upon earth.' Taking this provision of the
+Constitution, so interpreted by Chancellor Kent, as vesting the power
+<i>exclusively</i> in the executive, it only remains to be considered how far
+it is a necessity of war.</p>
+
+<p>In all the rebel States there is a population, more or less dense, to be
+protected and governed; but what can a civil authority accomplish when
+the States are overrun by a military force which has so long defied the
+power of the army? Advancing as our armies conquer, and fleeing as they
+are overcome by the rebel hordes, it could accomplish nothing but its
+own ludicrous history and the fettering of the military power, which so
+eminently requires one secret and independent will. How little a
+military force so fettered by civil authorities could accomplish can
+hardly be fully realized but by those who, like the author, have
+summered and wintered upon the 'dark and bloody ground' of the
+rebellion. But, it will be asked, how are the rebel States to be
+governed when the military power of the rebellion is crushed, and the
+authority of the executive ceases with the necessity of war? No express
+power is given by the Constitution to Congress to govern any other
+territory than the District of Columbia, the dockyards, lighthouses, and
+lands ceded to the United States for similar purposes, and the territory
+not included in the several States, but belonging to the United States.
+Under these three heads is included all the territory over which
+Congress can claim jurisdiction by direct grant; and, by the
+Constitution (Amendments, art. x.), 'the powers not delegated to the
+United States, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the
+States respectively or to THE PEOPLE.' Unless, therefore, the rebel
+States have lapsed into Territories, Congress can have no authority over
+them, except the general powers which it may exer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span>cise over all the
+States of the Union. The question then arises, and it seems to be purely
+a legal one&mdash;have the rebel States lapsed into Territories?</p>
+
+<p>We have already seen that the doctrine maintained by our Government is,
+that the rebel States have not, by their ordinances of secession,
+separated themselves from the Union, but that they are still <i>in</i> the
+Union. The ordinances of secession are, like any other unconstitutional
+law, even supposing them to have been the will of the people (of which
+we will speak hereafter), to be set aside by a competent tribunal, if
+brought to the test at all. Their paper treason, then (to commit a
+solecism), amounting only to so much waste of paper and ink, did the
+overt act of firing upon the flag of the United States operate more
+effectually to destroy the State identity? If they are incapable of
+separating themselves from the nation, and if, as is clearly the case,
+there is no power vested in the General Government to expel them from
+the Union, from what source does the power or act arise which destroys
+their identity? The rebel States are either <i>in</i> the Union or <i>out</i> of
+it. We cannot claim that they are in the Union for the purpose of
+enforcing submission, and then, when that object is accomplished, turn
+round and say they are out of it, and must be governed as Territories.</p>
+
+<p>But it is a fixed fact, and history will so record it, that the voice of
+the <i>people</i> in the rebel States never concurred in the ordinances of
+secession. In the few cases where they were submitted to the popular
+vote, force was used to awe that vote into acquiescence; while in most
+cases they never were submitted to the <i>form</i> of such a vote; and why?
+Because the leaders in treason dared not trust the voice of the people:
+they knew too well that it would thunder a rebuke in their ears. They
+were merely the act of the <i>individuals</i> who were chosen as members of
+the several Legislatures, and who, in betrayal of their trust, sought to
+commit the States which they misrepresented to treason. In any one of
+the States which we have solecistically termed rebel States, we venture
+to assert that, if fairly and fully taken, the vote of the people at any
+time during the last five years, and now, would be, by a large majority,
+in favor of the Union. Wherever our armies have obtained a permanent
+footing, the people have, almost unanimously, given their expression of
+attachment to the old flag. Shall, then, the treason of those
+individuals who, for the time being, held the places of power in the
+rebel States, be construed to the prejudice of a whole people, who had
+no part nor lot in the crime, in face of the often declared law that a
+State cannot commit treason? If we turn to the fact that many, if not
+most of the citizens of the rebel States, have done treasonable acts
+under compulsion of those who were the leaders in the rebellion, we are
+met, at the very threshold, by no less an authority than Sir William
+Blackstone, who says (Bl. Commentaries, book iv. p. 21): 'Another
+species of compulsion or necessity is what our law calls <i>duress per
+minias</i>, or threats and menaces which induce fear of death or other
+bodily harm, and which take away, for that reason, the guilt of many
+crimes and misdemeanors, at least before the human tribunal. <i>Therefore,
+in time of war or rebellion, a man may be justified in doing many
+treasonable acts by compulsion of the enemy or <span class="smcap">REBELS</span>, which would admit
+of no excuse in the time of peace.</i>' The fact that such violent
+compulsion was and still is used to overawe the Union sentiment of the
+South is patent. It has been and still is the cry, coming up on every
+breeze from that bloodstained land, that the leaders of the rebellion
+seek to crush, by whatever means, those who are</p>
+
+<p>
+'Faithful among the faithless found.'<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>But, supposing for the moment that the majority of the citizens of the
+rebel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span> States are, of their own free will, participators in the
+rebellion; where is the grant of power to Congress to establish a
+government in any of the rebel States? No clause of the Constitution
+gives it; and by the express terms of that instrument, 'all powers not
+granted by it to the United States, nor prohibited to the States, are
+reserved to the States respectively or to <span class="smcap">THE PEOPLE</span>.' But, while no
+such power is granted by the Constitution to the Federal Government, it
+is, we think, strictly forbidden by that clause of the instrument which
+declares that 'the United States shall guarantee to every State in this
+Union a republican form of government.' Would this injunction be
+complied with if Congress were to establish, directly, a government of
+its own over the rebel States? Would it not rather be a transgression of
+the provision? The essential nature of a republican government is that
+it is elective; but a Congressional government would be directly the
+reverse; for it takes the power from the hands of the people and places
+it in the hands of the national council. Mark the form of the
+expression, too, that the republican form of government is to be
+guaranteed, not merely by Congress or the executive, but by the <i>United
+States</i>; as if to pledge the whole power of the nation, of whatever
+kind, to protect this priceless blessing, through all coming time, to
+the use and benediction of all ages. Notice, too, to whom the guarantee
+runs&mdash;not to the territory now composing the State, but to the State its
+very self&mdash;<i>ei ipsi</i>; as if the Constitution could not contemplate such
+a thing as a State being struck out of existence, under whatever phrase,
+whether of 'State forfeiture,' 'State suicide,' or 'State abdication,'
+even if treason were attempted by those in power. The Constitution still
+terms it <i>a State</i>. Is not the present precisely the event, or rather
+one of the events, which it contemplates and provides for? The doctrine
+of 'State Rights,' whether as contemplated and maintained by Calhoun in
+the days of Nullification, or as declared by Jefferson Davis and his
+compeers in treason, we abhor utterly, whenever and wherever it may lift
+its serpent head, and whether supported by Southern men with Southern
+principles, or by Northern men with no principles. But a true and
+indisputable doctrine of State Rights there is, which ought to be as
+jealously maintained and guarded as the doctrine of National
+Sovereignty. The <i>Atlantic</i> author asserts that, because the State
+offices in the rebel States have been vacated, therefore Congress has
+the authority to govern them, and intimates that all powers not reserved
+to the respective States belong to Congress, <i>because there is no other
+to wield them</i>. This is not true. Every power possessed of the Federal
+Government must be actually granted. It must attach to that Government,
+not because it belongs to no other, but because it is granted by the
+Constitution.</p>
+
+<p>Our author quotes Mr. Phillimore as saying 'a state, like an individual,
+may die, by its submission and the donation of itself to another
+country.' Very true; but the word <i>state</i> must, in that sense, be
+equivalent to <i>nation</i>; and our author admits that a State cannot
+perform the first act necessary to be done in so giving itself away,
+viz., withdrawing itself from the Union. If, therefore, it cannot
+withdraw itself from the authority of the Federal Government, very
+clearly it cannot donate itself to the self-styled Confederate
+Government. If a thief sell or give his ill-gotten possession to
+another, it in no way affects the right of the owner. He cannot give
+away that which he does not own; and so of a State. Another error into
+which the <i>Atlantic</i> author has fallen, is that, in assigning the three
+sources of Congressional power, 'ample and hospitable,' he enumerates as
+one of them 'the necessity of the case;' but, as we have already seen,
+Congress possesses no powers but those expressly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> granted by the
+Constitution. If Congress may assert its authority in this instance,
+from the necessity of the case, and be itself the judge of that
+necessity, when no authority is given by the instrument, which expressly
+declares that all powers not granted by it are reserved, where are we to
+find a limit, and why may not that body assert itself in any number of
+instances, until, at length, the rights of the States are wholly
+absorbed by the overmastering power of the Federal Government? There is
+but <i>one</i> rightful source of authority to Congress, and that is the
+Constitution, which itself so declares, and which is the supreme law of
+the land.</p>
+
+<p>But the true course to be pursued is, we think, to allow the rebel
+States (as indeed we cannot help doing) to be governed by the military
+power until such time as a civil government can be maintained, and then
+for the whole Government of the United States, legislative, judicial,
+and executive, to stand by, as the constitutionally appointed guardian,
+<i>and permit</i> THE PEOPLE <i>to elect their own State officers</i>. Whether the
+conventions of the people are called by law of Congress or by
+proclamation of the President, would seem to be immaterial, though the
+latter seems the least cumbersome method. Thus the rebel States would
+pass from rebel forms to constitutional ones, in a legal and formal
+manner. Sooner or later this must be done, even if, for a time,
+provisional governments are instituted; for no Congressional government
+can be an elective government, and hence not a constitutional one,
+because the elective principle is necessary to a republican form of
+government. But if, under the clause of the Constitution which enjoins
+upon the United States to guarantee a republican form of government to
+each State, conventions of the people be called to elect their own
+officers, they are at once put in possession of their constitutional
+rights. And how can a State be <i>re</i>admitted to a Union which it has
+never left?</p>
+
+<p>The writer has no pet theory to maintain, but is, like the writer in the
+<i>Atlantic</i>, 'in search of truth;' and the views here expressed are the
+result, not merely of closet reflection, but of observation and
+experience in the seceded States, while 'marching under the flag and
+keeping step to the music of the Union.' If only, through this baptism
+of blood, the nation, freed at last from the blighting curse of slavery,
+and purified into a better life, shall lift her radiant forehead from
+the dust, and, crowned with the diadem of freedom, go on her glorious
+way rejoicing, the writer will count his past sufferings and shattered
+health only as the small dust in the balance compared with the priceless
+blessings of peace, freedom, and national unity, which they may have
+contributed, however slightly, to purchase. Only to have contributed,
+however little, something for the peace&mdash;something for the
+glory&mdash;something for the permanence, beautiful and bright&mdash;of those
+institutions which are for America the pride of the past and the hope of
+the future, will be a joy through life and a consolation in death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_MOUND_BUILDER" id="THE_MOUND_BUILDER"></a>THE MOUND BUILDER.</h2>
+
+<h3>INTRODUCTION.</h3>
+
+
+<p>All over Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and other Western States&mdash;but
+chiefly over these&mdash;are the monumental remains of an ancient race, long
+anterior to the present race of Indians, concerning whom we have no
+other record than that which is afforded by their mounds, earthworks,
+fortifications, temples, and dwelling places. Even these cannot at first
+be distinguished and identified the one from the other; and it takes a
+person skilled in such lore to determine the character and uses of the
+various mounds and groups of mounds, which he meets with at all points,
+and in all directions, as he traverses the wilderness.</p>
+
+<p>I have lived a long time in the woods and prairies, following the
+occupation of a hunter, but with ulterior antiquarian and
+natural-history objects and purposes. From the time when I first heard
+of the mounds, which was in the year 1836, when I entertained, in my
+chambers in New York, an old frontiersman from Chicago&mdash;a fine, brave
+fellow, whose whole life was a romance of the highest and noblest
+kind&mdash;I resolved that as soon as fortune should favor me with leisure
+and opportunity, I would make a first-hand investigation of these
+curious antiquities, and try if I could render an intelligent exposition
+of their meaning. Twenty years passed away, and I was no nearer to the
+accomplishment of my purpose than I was in that notable year 1836, when
+the apocalypse of the West and its mystic mound seals were first
+revealed to me. At last, about four years ago, all things being
+favorable, I struck my tents in the big city&mdash;the wonderful Arabian
+Nights city of New York!-and, taking a sorrowful leave of my friends and
+literary associates, I set off for the region round about the Black
+River in Wisconsin. Here, among the bluffs and forests, within hailing
+distance of a prairie of some hundred thousand acres, I bought a
+well-cultivated farm of two hundred and eighty acres, bounded on the
+south by a deep, romantic ravine, at the bottom of which ran a
+delightful stream of water, full of trout, always cool and delicious to
+drink, and never known to be dry even in the fiercest summer droughts. A
+large log cabin, with a chimney opening in the kitchen, capable of
+conveying the smoke and flames of half a cord of wood burning at once on
+the hearthstones, and having other commodious conveniences, was my
+headquarters, and I intended it to be my permanent home. But thereby
+hangs a tale&mdash;which, though interesting enough, and full of romantic and
+startling episodes, I will not here and now relate, as being somewhat
+extraneous to the subject matter before us.</p>
+
+<p>I had no sooner made all the dispositions necessary to the good
+husbanding of the farm, than I hired a half breed, well known in those
+parts, and subsequently a Winnebago Indian, to whose wigwam the half
+breed introduced me at my request. And with these two, the one a
+veritable savage, and the other very nearly related to him, I set off
+with a wagon, a yoke of oxen, a large tent, and abundance of provisions,
+on a journey of mound discoveries.</p>
+
+<p>I have only space here to say that we traversed the whole of the north
+and west of the State of Wisconsin, and through the chief parts of
+Minnesota and Iowa; and that subsequently, about, eighteen months
+afterward, we visited the region of the Four Lakes, of which Madison is
+the centre, where there are hundreds of mounds, arranged in nearly every
+form and of nearly every animal device, which we had found in our
+previous travels.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I made drawings of all the remarkable groups which I met with; and,
+without going into particulars, I may give you some idea of their
+likelihood in the following summary: Mounds arranged in circles of three
+circles, with a large earthwork in the inner one; the outer circle
+containing sixty mounds, the second thirty, the first fifteen. I
+examined the earthwork, and found in it, about four feet below the
+surface, remains of charcoal and charred bones, burnt earth, and
+considerable quantities of mica. It had evidently been an altar or
+sacrificial mound&mdash;and I afterward, upon examination, found many
+such&mdash;but they were always enclosed by other mounds; and these (the
+outer mounds) contained nothing but earth, although there was this
+remarkable peculiarity about them, that the earth of which they were
+composed was altogether of a different nature from the surrounding
+earth, and must have been brought to that spot, as the old Druids
+brought the enormous blocks of stone which composed their temples and
+altars at Stonehenge, from an unknown distance.</p>
+
+<p>Other mounds were arranged in squares, triangles, and parallelograms.
+Others, in a series of successive squares, about three feet apart,
+having an opening to the east and west, and terminating in a square of
+about fourteen feet in the centre, where a truncated mound is sure to be
+erected.</p>
+
+<p>Others, formed a good deal like a Mini&eacute; rifle ball, but with a more
+pointed apex, running on both sides of the earth effigy of a monstrous
+bear for upward of forty rods.</p>
+
+<p>Others, shaped like an eagle with outstretched wings, having walls of
+earthwork two feet high, of oblong shape, and enclosed on all sides
+except at the east and west, where there are entrances of about four
+feet in width.</p>
+
+<p>Others, composed of hundreds of tons of earth, shaped like a tortoise,
+with truncated mounds all around it.</p>
+
+<p>Others, fashioned like men, and Titans at that, some lying prone upon
+the prairie, others in the act of walking. The limbs clearly defined,
+the body vast and well moulded, like a huge colossus. One near Baraboo,
+Sauk County, Wisconsin, discovered by Mr. William H. Canfield, and
+reported to the Philosophical Society by Mr. Lapham, of Milwaukee, was
+visited also by us. It is two hundred and fourteen feet in length; the
+head thirty feet long, the body one hundred feet, and the legs
+eighty-four. The head lies toward the south, and the motion (for he is
+represented in the act of walking) is westward. All the lines of this
+most singular effigy are curved gracefully, much care having very
+clearly been bestowed upon its construction. The head is ornamented with
+two projections or horns, giving a comical expression to the whole
+figure.</p>
+
+<p>Near the old military road, about seven miles east of the Blue Mounds,
+in Dare County, Wisconsin, we found another man effigy. It lies in an
+east and west direction, the head toward the west, and the arms and legs
+extended. It is one hundred and twenty-five feet long, one hundred and
+forty feet from the extremity of one arm to that of the other. The body
+is thirty feet in breadth, and is most carefully moulded and rounded;
+the head twenty-five feet; the elevation above the surface of the
+prairie nearly six feet.</p>
+
+<p>On the north side of the Wisconsin River, about four miles west of the
+village of Muscoda, we heard of and found another human effigy. Its
+peculiarity was that it had two heads, and they reclined with a certain
+grace over the shoulders. The arms were not in proportion, nor fully
+represented. Length of body fifty feet, legs forty feet, arms one
+hundred and thirty feet; lying north and south, the head southward.</p>
+
+<p>Others, a kind of hybrids, half man half beast or bird.</p>
+
+<p>Others, representing birds with outstretched wings, like the forked-tail
+hawk or swallow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Others, eagles without heads.</p>
+
+<p>Others, coiled snakes, or outstretched snakes.</p>
+
+<p>Others, elk or deer.</p>
+
+<p>Clusters of mounds star shaped, seven in number, with the sun-shaped
+mound in the centre.</p>
+
+<p>Others, representing mathematical symbols.</p>
+
+<p>On the banks of the Black River, near the Ox Bow, are the remains of an
+elevated road, about three feet high and seven feet wide, extending for
+miles, intersected near the river by the great Indian war path. The
+settlers call it the Railroad, and it has all the appearance of a work
+of this nature, and is strongly and carefully built&mdash;a fine remain of
+the old mound builders' time.</p>
+
+<p>Long lines of mounds, extending for scores and probably hundreds of
+miles, nearly all of the same shape, varying in their distance from each
+other from one to four miles.</p>
+
+<p>Circular mounds of a base of two hundred feet, and a height of twenty
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>Others, two hundred yards long, from ten to twenty feet wide, and from
+two to three feet high&mdash;these last, also, having an open space through
+them, as if intended for an entrance gate.</p>
+
+<p>Others, in the form of rabbits, badgers, bears, and birds; others, of
+unknown monstrous animals.</p>
+
+<p>We examined in all thirty-nine mounds; and in one, at the very base, on
+the floor of the natural earth upon which the mound was built (the soil
+of the mound being, as I said, always of a different character to the
+surrounding soil) we discovered and carried away with us the perfect
+skeleton of a man, with a few arrow heads made of flint, and a tobacco
+pipe, made also of stone, with a very small and narrow bowl, having a
+device on it like some of the hieroglyphic monsters of Egypt or old
+India.</p>
+
+<p>In twelve we found skeletons, male and female, of the present race of
+Indians, with their bows and arrows, or, as was the case in four
+instances, their rifles and knives and tobacco pipes; some of these last
+elaborately carved in red stone. In Iowa we dug into a large mound, and
+discovered fragments of an ancient pottery, with the colors burned into
+the material, and various bones and skulls, arrow heads, and a flint
+knife, and saw.</p>
+
+<p>We saw the painted rocks, also, on the Mississippi shores, near Prairie
+du Chien&mdash;said to be of an immemorial age&mdash;and the questions, Who was
+this old mound builder&mdash;whence did he come&mdash;when did he vanish from this
+continent? have haunted me ever since. That he was the primitive man of
+this planet, I think there is good reason to believe. Go where we will,
+to what portion soever of the earth, we shall find these mound evidences
+of his existence. In Asia, Europe, Africa, and all along the backbone of
+the American continent, he has established his record. Yet no one knows
+anything about him: all tradition even of him and of his works is lost.
+When Watkinson started from the middle of Asia to visit the newly
+acquired country of Russia&mdash;the beautiful, fruitful, invaluable country
+of the Amoor&mdash;he was confronted at the very outset by a cluster of seven
+of these very mounds, and his book, from that time forth, extending over
+thousands of miles, is full of descriptions of these unknown earthworks.
+I have no doubt they mark the progressive geographical movements of a
+race of men who came from Asia. From Behring's Strait to the Gulf they
+can easily be traced.</p>
+
+<p>But I have said enough, and will stop here.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE MOUND BUILDER.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who art thou? old Mound Builder!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where dost thou come from?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Womb of what country,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Womb of what woman<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gave birth to thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who was thy sire?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who thy sire's sire?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And who were his forbears?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cam'st thou from Asia?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the race swarms like fireflies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where many races mark.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As with colored belts, its tropics!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What pigment stained thy skin?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was it a red, or wert thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Olive-dyed, or brassy?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Handsome thou couldst hardly have been,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With those high cheek-bones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That mighty jaw, and its grim chops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That long skull, so broad at the back parts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That low, retreating forehead!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Doubtless thine eyes were dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like fire-moons set in their sockets;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Doubtless thine hair was black,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Coarse, matted, long, and electric;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy skeleton that of a giant!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well fleshed, well lashed with muscles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As with an armor of iron;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And doubtless thou wert a brave fellow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the old earth, in thy time.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I think I know thee, old Mole!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth delver, mound builder, mine worker!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I think I have met thee before,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In times long since, and forgotten;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many thousands of years, it may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or ever old Noah, the bargeman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or he, the mighty Deucalion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wroth with the world as he found it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Uprose in a passion of storm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And smote with his fist the sluices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The water sluices of Cloudland&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Locked in the infinite azure&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drowning the plains and mountains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shaggy beasts and hybrids,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The nameless birds&mdash;and the reptiles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Monstrous in bulk and feature,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which alone were thy grim contemporaries.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[Pg 521]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here, in the State of Wisconsin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In newly discovered America,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I, curious to know what secrets<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were hid in the mounds of thy building,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have gone down into their chambers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into their innermost grave-crypts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unurning dry bones and skulls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fragments of thy mortality!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oftentimes near to the surface<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of these thy conical earth-runes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;For who shall tell their secret?&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meeting with strange interlopers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bodies of red Winnebagoes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each with its bow and its arrows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each with its knife and its war gear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its porphyry-carved tobacco pipe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Modern, I know by the fashioning.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Often, I asked of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As they lay there so silently,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">So stiff and stark in their bones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What right they had in these old places,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sacred to dead men of a race they knew not?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And oh! the white laughters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wicked malice of the white laughters<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Which they laughed at me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With their ghastly teeth, in answer!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was never mockery half so dismal!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if it were none of my business.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor was it; save that I liked grimly to plague them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To taunt them with their barbarity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That they could not so much as dig their own graves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But must needs go break those of the dead race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their far superiors, and masters in craft and lore!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bury themselves there, just out of sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the vulture's beak could peck them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were he so obscenely minded,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the wolf could scrape them up with his foot.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Curious for consideration<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All this with its dumb recordings!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Very suggestive also,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The meeting of him, the first-born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who lived before the rainbow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Burst from the womb of the suncloud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the Bible days of the Deluge&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">The meeting very suggestive<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of him, with the red Winnebago,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such immemorial ages,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cartooned with mighty empires,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Lying outstretched between them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He, the forerunner of cities<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[Pg 522]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">&mdash;His mounds their type and rudiment&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he, the fag-end of creation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meaningless sculpture of journeymen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doomed to the curse of extinction.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Curious, also, that I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">An islander from far-off Britain<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Should meet them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Or, the rude scrolls of them.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Both together in these wilds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Round about the region of the Black River,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Cheek by jowl in a grave.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Who was the builder of the grave?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A primitive man, no doubt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the stone era, it may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For of stone are his implements.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not of metal-work, nor the device of fire.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He may have burrowed for lead<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And dug out copper ore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dark-green as with emerald rust, from the mines<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long since forsaken, and but newly found<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the delvers at Mineral Point.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He, or his subsequents, issue of him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know not; and, soothe to say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Shall never know.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">Neither wilt thou ever know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anything of me, old Mound Builder!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the race of Americans, nothing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Who now, and ever henceforth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Own, and shall own, this continent!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Heirs of the vast wealth of time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since thou from the same land departed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">New thinkers, new builders, creators<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of life, and the scaffolds of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For far-off grand generations!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This skull which I handle!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How long has the soul left it tenantless?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what did the soul do in its house,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When this roof covered it?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Many things, many wonderful things!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It wrote its primeval history<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is earthworks and fortifications,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In animal forms and pictures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In symbols of unknown meaning.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I know from the uncouth hieroglyphs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And the more finished records,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That this soul had a religion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Temples, and priests, and altars:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I think the life-giver, the sun,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[Pg 523]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Was the god unto whom he sacrificed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I think that the moon and stars<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Were the lesser gods of his worship;<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">And that the old serpent of Eden<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Came in for a share of devotion.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i1">I find many forms of this reptile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Scattered along the prairies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Coiled on the banks of the rivers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In Iowa, and far Minnesota,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And here and there, in Wisconsin.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now he is circular,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Gnawing his tail, like the Greek symbol,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Suggesting infinite meanings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unto the mind of a modern<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Crammed with the olden mythologies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Now, uncoiled in the sunlight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">He stretches himself out at full length<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">In all his undulate longitude.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His body is a constellation of mounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Artfully imitative,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the fatal tail to the more fatal head.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Overgrown they are with grass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Short, green grass, thick and velvety,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Like well cared-for lawns,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With strange, wild flowers glittering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Made up of alien mould<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Brought hither from distant regions.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Curiously I have considered them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Many a time in the summer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lying beside them under the flaming sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Smoking an old tobacco pipe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Made by one of these moundsmen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Who in his time had smoked it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Perchance over the council fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or in the dark woods where he had gone a-hunting;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In war time&mdash;in peaceful evenings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With his squaw by his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his brood of dusky papposins<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Playing about in the twilight<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Under the awful star-shadows.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It seemed that I was very close to him, at such times;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And that his thick-ribbed lips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">&mdash;Gone to dust for unknown centuries&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Had met mine inscrutably,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By a magic hid in the pipestem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making me his familiar and hail fellow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Almost I felt his breath,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[Pg 524]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the muffled sound of his heart-beats;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Almost I grasped his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And shook the antediluvian,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a shake of grimmest fellowship<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Trying to cozen him of his grim secret.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">But sudden the gusty wind came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Laughing away the illusion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I was alone in the desert.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">If he could only wake up now,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And confront me&mdash;that ancient salvage!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Resurgated, with his faculties<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All quick about him, and his memories,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">What an unheard-of powwow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Could I report to you, O friends of mine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who look for some revelation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some hint of the strange apocalypse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Which the wit of this man, living<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So near to the prime of the morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So near to the gates of the azure,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The awful gates of the Unseen&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Whence all that is seen proceeded&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath wrought in this new-found country!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I wonder if he would remember<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Anything about the Land of the Immortals.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Something he would surely find<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the deeps of his consciousness<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To wake up a dim reminiscence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Dreamy shadows might haunt him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shadows of beautiful faces, and of terrible;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Large, lustrous eyes, full of celestial meanings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Looking up at him, beseeching him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">From unfathomable abysses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With glances which were a language.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The finalest secrets and mysteries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Behind every sight, and sound, and color,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Behind all motions, and harmonies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Which floated round about him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Archetypes of the phenomenal!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or, it might be, that coming suddenly in his mind<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon some dark veil, as of Isis,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He lifts it with a key-thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the sudden memory of an arcane sign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And beholds the gardens of Living Light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The starry platform, palaces, and thrones&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The vast colossi, the intelligences<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moving to and fro over the flaming causeways<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of the kingdoms beyond the gates&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">The infinite arches<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And the stately pillars,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[Pg 525]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i12">Upbuilt with sapphire suns<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And illuminated with emerald and ruby stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Making cathedrals of immensity<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">For the everlasting worship without words.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All, or some, of the wondrous, impenetrable picture-land:<br /></span>
+<span class="i15">The crimson seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Flashing in uncreated light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">Crowded with galleons<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On a mission to ports where dwell the old gods<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the mighty intellects of the Immortals.<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">The ceaseless occupations,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">The language and the lore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The arts, and thoughts, the music, and the instruments;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The beauty and the divine glory of the faces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">And how the Immortals love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Whether they wed like Adamites,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Or are too happy to wed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Living in single blessedness!<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Well, I know it is rubbish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">The veriest star-dust of fancy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">To think of such a thing as this<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Being a memorial heirloom of the fore-world,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Such rude effigies of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Such clodbrains, as these poor mound builders!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Their souls never had any priority in the life of them;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">No background of eternity<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Over which they had traversed<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">From eon to eon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Sun-system to sun-system,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Planets and stars under them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Planets and stars over them;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now dwelling on immeasurable plains of azure<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">Bigger than space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dazzling with the super-tropical brightness<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of passionate flowers without a name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In all the romance of color and beauty&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Now, in the cities celestial,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Where they made their acquaintances<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With other souls, which had never been incarnated,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">But were getting themselves ready<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">By an intuitive obedience<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To a well-understood authority,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Which had never spoken,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To take upon themselves the living form<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of some red-browed, fire-eyed Mars-man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Some pale-faced, languishing son<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Of the Phalic planet Venus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Or wherever else it might be,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[Pg 526]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i5">In what remote star soever<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Quivering on shadowy battlements.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Along the lines of the wilderness,<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Of worlds beyond worlds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">These souls were to try their fortunes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">Surely, no experience of this sort<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Ever happened unto them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Although one would like to invest them<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the glory of it, for the sake of the soul.<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But they were, to speak truth of them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">A sort of journeyman work,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Not a Phidian statuary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But a first cast of man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">A rude draft of him;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Huge gulfs, as of dismal Tartarus,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Separating him from the high-born Caucasian.<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">He, a mere Mongolian,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As good, perhaps, in his faculties,<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">As any Jap. or Chinaman&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">But not of the full-orbed brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Star-blown, and harmonious<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With all sweet voices as of flutes in him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">And viols, bassoons, and organs;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Capable of the depths and circumferences of thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Of sphynxine entertainments,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And the dramas of life and death.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">A plain fellow, and a practical,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">With picture in him and symbol,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And thus not altogether clay-made,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But touched with the fire of the rainbow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">And the finger of the first light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Waiting for the second and the third light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">Expectant through the ages,<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">And disappointed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Never receiving more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">But going down, at last, a dark man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And a lonely, through the dark galleries<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">Of death, and behind the curtain<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">Where all is light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i3">I like to think of him, and see his works:<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">I like to read him in his mounds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And think I can make out a good deal of his history.<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">He was a half-dumb man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">Very sorrowful to see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i5">But brave, nevertheless, and bravely<br /></span>
+<span class="i9">Struggling to fling out his thoughts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i11">In a kind of dumb speech;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[Pg 527]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Struggling, indeed, after poetry<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">D&aelig;dalian forms, and eloquence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Ambitious of distinguishing himself<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In the presence of wolves and bisons<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And all organic creatures;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Of making his claim good<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Against these, his urgent disputants,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">That he was lord of the planet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">If he could not write books,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">He could scrawl the earth with his record:<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">He could make hieroglyphs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Constellations of mounds and animals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Effigies of unnamable things,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Monsters, and hybrids unnatural,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Bred of grotesque fancies; and man-forms.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">These last, none of your pigmies<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">A span long in the womb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And six feet, at full growth, out of it&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">But bigger in chest and paunch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the girth of his muscular shackle-bones,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Round his colossal shoulders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Round his Memnonian countenance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Over the dome of his skull-crypts&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">From crown to foot of his body&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Than grimmest of old Welsh giants,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Grimmest of Araby ogres!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Many a time talking with gray hunters,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Who leaned on their rifles against a tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And made the bright landscape<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the golden morning fuller of gold and brightness<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">By the contrast of their furrowed faces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Their shaggy eyebrows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the gay humor laughing in their eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their unkempt locks, their powder horns, and buskins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the wild attire, in general, of their persons&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Many a time have I heard them<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Tell of these man-effigies<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lying prone on the floors of the prairie.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And, in my whim for correspondence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And perpetual seeking after identities,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have likened them to the stone sculptures, in cathedrals,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Cut by pious hands out of black marble,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Memorial resemblances of holy abbots,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Christian knights, founders of religious houses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Of good lords of fair manors,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Who left largess to these houses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Beneficed the arched wine-cellars<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">With yearly butts of canary,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Or, during their lifetime,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[Pg 528]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beautified the west front with stately windows<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Of colored glass, emblazoned with Scripture stories,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sunlight in shadowy reflections painting the figures<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">With blue and gold and crimson<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">Upon the cold slabs of the pavement.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">These effigies, stiff, formal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Rudely fashioned, and of poor art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">All of them lying, black and stark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a corpse-pageantry visioned in some monk's dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Lying thus, in the transepts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">On the cold, gray floor of the cathedral.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">A curious conceit, truly!<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">But the prairie is also consecrated,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And quite as sacred I think it<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">As Rome's most holy of holies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i1">It blossoms and runs over with religion.<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">These meek and beautiful flowers!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What sweet thoughts and divine prayers are in them!<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">These song birds! what anthems of praise<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">Gush out of their ecstatic throats!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">I pray you, also, tell me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">What floors, sacred to what dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can compare with the elaborate mosaic work<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this wide, vast, outstretching floor of grass?<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">As good a place, I take it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the mound builder to make his man-effigies<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Out of the mould in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As the cathedral is, for its artists<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To make man-effigies out of the black marble!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the thought, too, is the same!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The thought of the primeval savage of the stone era,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Roaming about in these wilds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Before the beautiful Christ<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Made the soul more beautiful,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Revealed the terror of its divine forces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Announced its immortality,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And was nailed on a tree for His goodness!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the monk, therefore, lay yet in the pagan brain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And' Time had not so much as thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of sowing the seed for his coming&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While his glorious cathedral, which, as we now know it,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is an epic poem built in immortal stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Had no archetype except in the dreams of God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dim hints of it, lying like hopeless runes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the forest trees and arches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its ornamentations in the snow drifts, and the summer leaves and flowers&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No doubt, the mound-builder's man, put in effigy on the prairie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Had been a benefactor, in his way and time;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Or, a great warrior; or learned teacher<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[Pg 529]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of things symbolized in certain mound-groups,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And which, from their arrangement,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Appertain, it would seem, to mysteries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And ghostly communications.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">They thought to keep green his memory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The worship of him and his good deeds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Unto the end of time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Throughout all generations.<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">The holy men, born of Christ,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">All Christendom but the development of him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And all the world his debtor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Even God owing him more largely<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Than He has thought fit to pay back,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Taking the immense credit<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Of nigh two thousand years!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">These holy men, so born and cultured,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Could think of no way wiser,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Of no securer method<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of preserving the memory of their saints,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And of those who did good to them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than this rude, monumental way of the savage.<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">So singular is man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">So old-fashioned his thinkings,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So wonderful and similar his sympathies!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Everywhere the same, with a difference;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Cast in the same moulds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the same animal wants, and common mind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Of the same passions and vices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Hating, loving, killing, lying&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">A vast electrical chain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Running through tradition, and auroral history,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Up through the twilights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">And blazing noons,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Through vanishing and returning twilights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Through azure nights of stars&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Epochs of civilization&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Unto the calmer glory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Unto the settled days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Unto the noble men&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><i>Nunc formosissimus annus!</i><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus do I, flinging curiously the webs of fancy<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Athwart the time-gulfs, and the ages,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reconcile, after a kind, the primitive savage of America<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With the wonderful genealogies&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Upsprung from the vital sap<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Of the great life-tree, Igdrasil!<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Thick and populous nations<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Heavily bending its branches,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each in its autumn time of one or two thousand years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like ripe fruits, fully developed and perfected,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[Pg 530]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i6">From the germ whence they proceeded;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Nourished by strong saps of vitality,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By the red, rich blood of matured centuries,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">By passionate Semitic sunlights;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beautiful as the golden apples of the Hesperides!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Radiating, also, a divine beauty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The flower-blossom and the aroma,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The final music, of a ripe humanity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Whereof each particular nation<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Was in its way and turn<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">The form and the expression,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">Grand autumns were some of them!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Grand and beautiful, like that of Greece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose glorious consummation always reminds me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of moving statues, music, and richest painting and architecture:<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her landscapes shimmering in golden fire-mists,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which hang over the wondrously colored woods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">In a dreamy haze of splendor;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Revealing arched avenues, and tiny glades,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Cool, quiet spots, and dim recesses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Green swards, and floral fairy lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Sweeping to the hilltops;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Illuminating the rivers in their gladsome course,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the yellow shadows of the rolling marshes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the cattle of the farmer as they stand knee-deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Switching their tails by the shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Lighting up the singing faces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">The sweet, laughing, singing faces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Of the merry, playful brooks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Now running away over shallows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Now into gurgling eddies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Now under fallen trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Past beaver dams long deserted;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Now under shady banks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Lost in the tangled wood-growths;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Quivering now with, their laughter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Out in the open meadow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Flowing, singing and laughing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Over the weeds and rushes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Flowing and singing forever!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">Plastic and beautiful, and running over<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Schiller's 'play impulse,' was the genius of Greece,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of which her institutions and civility were the embodiment.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Other autumn times of the nations<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Were calm and peaceful,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Symbolized above, as fruit on the branches<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Of the life-tree, Igdrasil!<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">And when their time came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">They dropped down silently,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[Pg 531]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like apples from their boughs on the autumn grass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Silently dropped down, on moonlight plains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the presence of the great company of the stars,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And the flaming constellations,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which evermore keep solemn watch over their graves.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Others were blown off suddenly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And prematurely&mdash;all the elements enraged against them;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And others, like the Dead Sea fruit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Were rotten at the heart before their prime!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The old mound builder stands at the base of the tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">At the base of the wonderful tree Igdrasil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the mighty branches thereof,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Which hang over his head in flame-shadows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Germinated, and blossomed with nations,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In other lands, in another hemisphere<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Far away, over the measureless brine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From the mother earth where he was planted,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Where he grew and flourished,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And solved the riddle of life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i12">And tried death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And the riddle beyond death.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">He thought this passionate America,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With its vast results of physical life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Its beautiful and sublime portraitures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its far-sweeping prairies, rolling in grassy waves<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Like the green billows of an inland sea&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Its blue-robed mountains<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Piercing the bluer heavens with their peaks&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Its rivers, lakes, and forests&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">A roomy, and grand-enough earth to inhabit,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Without thought of anything beyond it.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">And yet he is related to all<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">That was, and is, and shall be!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That idea which was clothed in his flesh<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Is fleshed in I know not how many<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Infinite forms and varieties,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">In every part of the earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">In this day of my generation.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">But the flesh is a little different,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And here and there the organism a nobler one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the idea bigger, broader, deeper,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a more divine quality and diapason.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He is included in us, as the lesser in the greater;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All our enactments are repetitions of his;<br /></span>
+<span class="i10">Enlarged and adorned;<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">And we pass through all his phases,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Some time or other, in our beginnings&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through his, and an infinity of larger ones&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we have the same inevitable endings.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[Pg 532]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_UNIVERSAL_LANGUAGE" id="A_UNIVERSAL_LANGUAGE"></a>A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE:</h2>
+
+
+
+<h3>ITS POSSIBILITY, SCIENTIFIC NECESSITY, AND APPROPRIATE CHARACTERISTICS</h3>
+
+
+<p>The idea of the possibility and desirableness of a universal language,
+scientifically constituted; a common form of speech for all the nations
+of mankind; for the remedy of the confusion and the great evil of Babel,
+is not wholly new. The celebrated Leibnitz entertained it. It was, we
+believe, glanced at among the schemes of Lord Monboddo. Bishop Wilkins
+devoted years of labor to the accomplishment of the task, and thought he
+had accomplished it. He published the results of his labors in heavy
+volumes, which have remained, as useless lumber, on the shelves of the
+antiquarian, or of those who are curious in rare books. A young
+gentleman of this city, of a rare genius, by the name of Fairbank, who
+died by a tragical fate a few years since, labored assiduously to the
+same end. A society of learned men has recently been organized in Spain,
+with their headquarters at Barcelona, devoted to the same work. Numerous
+other attempts have probably been made. In all these attempts, projects,
+and labors, the design has never transcended the purpose of <i>Invention</i>.
+The effort has been simply to <i>contrive</i> a new form of speech, and to
+persuade mankind to accept it;&mdash;a task herculean and hopeless in its
+magnitude and impracticability; but looking still in the direction of
+the supply of one of the greatest needs of human improvement. The
+existence of no less than two or three thousand different languages and
+idioms on the surface of the planet, in this age of railroad and
+steamship communication, presents, obviously, one of the most serious
+obstacles to that unification of humanity which so many concurrent
+indications tend, on the other hand, to prognosticate.</p>
+
+<p>Another and different outlook toward a unity of speech for the race
+comes up from a growing popular impression that all existing languages
+must be ultimately and somewhat rapidly smelted into one by the mere
+heat and attrition of our intense modern international intercourse. Each
+nationality is beginning to put forth its pretensions as the proper and
+probable matrix of the new agglomerate, or philological pudding-stone,
+which is vaguely expected to result. The English urge the commercial
+supremacy of their tongue; the French the colloquial and courtly
+character of theirs; the Germans the inherent energy and philosophical
+adaptation of the German; the Spanish the wide territorial distribution
+and the pompous euphony of that idiom; and so of the other
+nationalities.</p>
+
+<p>Both invention, which is the genius of adaptation, and the blending
+influence of mere intercourse, may have their appropriate place as
+auxiliaries, in the reconstruction of human speech, in accordance with
+the exigencies of the new era which is dawning on the world; but there
+is another and far more basic and important element, which may, and
+perhaps we may say must, appear upon the stage, and enter into the
+solution. This is the element of positive Scientific <i>Discovery</i> in the
+lingual domain. It may be found that every elementary sound of the human
+voice is <i>inherently laden</i> by <i>nature herself</i> with a primitive
+significance; that the small aggregate of these meanings is precisely
+that handful of the Primitive Categories of all <i>Thought</i> and all
+<i>Being</i> which the Philosophers, from Aristotle up to Kant, have so
+industriously and painfully sought for. The germ of this idea was
+incipiently and crudely<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[Pg 539]</a></span> struggling in the mind of the late
+distinguished philologist, Dr. Charles Kreitser, formerly professor of
+languages in the University of Virginia, and author of numerous valuable
+articles in Appletons' 'Cyclop&aelig;dia;' the most learned man, doubtless,
+that unfortunate Hungary has contributed to our American body of savans.
+This element of discovery may, in the end, take the lead, and immensely
+preponderate in importance over the other two factors already mentioned
+as participating in the solution of a question of a planetary language.
+The idea certainly has no intrinsic improbability, that the normal
+language of mankind should be matter of discovery as the normal music of
+the race has been already. There was an instinctual and spontaneous
+development of music in advance of the time when science acted
+reflectively upon the elements and reconstituted it in accordance with
+the musical laws so discovered. Why may we not, why ought we not even to
+expect, analogically, that the same thing will occur for speech?</p>
+
+<p>Setting aside, however, for the present occasion, the profounder inquiry
+into the inherent significance of sounds, and into all that flows
+logically from that novel and recondite investigation, we propose at
+present to treat in a more superficial way the subject indicated in the
+title of this article&mdash;A Universal Language; its Possibility, Scientific
+Necessity, and Appropriate Characteristics.</p>
+
+<p>The expansion of the scope of science is at this day such that the
+demand for discriminating technicalities exceeds absolutely the capacity
+of all existing language for condensed and appropriate combinations and
+derivations. Hence speech must soon fail to serve the new developments
+of thought, unless the process of word-building can be itself
+proportionately improved; unless, in other words, a new and
+scientifically constructed Language can be devised adequate to all the
+wants of science. It would seem that there should occur, in the range of
+possibilities, the existence of the <i>Plan</i> in <i>Nature</i> of a <i>New</i> and
+<i>Universal Language</i>, copious, flexible, and expressive beyond measure;
+competent to meet the highest demands of definition and classification;
+and containing within itself a natural, compact, infinitely varied, and
+inexhaustible terminology for each of the Sciences, as ordained by fixed
+laws pre&euml;xistent in the nature of things.</p>
+
+<p>This language should not then be an arbitrary contrivance, but should be
+elaborated from the fundamental laws of speech, existing in the
+constitution of the universe and of man, and logically traced to this
+special application. This knowledge of the underlying laws of speech
+should determine the mode of the combination of <i>Elementary Sounds</i> into
+Syllables and Words, and of Words into Sentences naturally expressive of
+given conceptions or ideas. Such a language would rest on discovery, in
+that precise sense in which discovery differs from invention, and would
+have in itself infinite capacities and powers of expression, and again
+of suggesting thought; and might perhaps come to be recognized as the
+most stupendous discovery to which the human intellect is capable of
+attaining. 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
+and the Word was God.' The Word, or the <i>Logos</i>, is the underlying or
+hidden <i>Wisdom</i> of which <i>speech</i> is the external utterance or
+expression. Who can say how profoundly and intimately the underlying and
+hitherto undiscovered Laws of Speech may be consociated with the basic
+Principles <i>of all truth</i> embedded in the Wisdom-Nature of God himself?
+The old Massonites had a faith, derived from certain mystical utterances
+of the Greek Philosophers, that whosoever should discover the right name
+for anything, would have absolute power over that thing. The Wisdom of
+Plato and the deeper Wisdom of Christ meet and are married to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[Pg 540]</a></span> each
+other in the conception of John when he makes the startling assertion
+that the Logos, the Logic, the Law, the Word, is synonymous with God
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>The possibilities of the existence of such a language, divinely and
+providentially prepared in the constitution of things, and awaiting
+discovery, begins to be perceived, if the conception of the existence of
+an absolutely universal analogy be permitted fairly to take possession
+of the mind. Such an infinite scheme of analogy, rendering the same
+principles alike applicable in all spheres, must itself, in turn, rest
+upon a Divine Unity of Plan reigning throughout the Universe, the
+execution of which Plan is the act or the continuity of the acts of
+Creation. The Religious Intuition of the Race has persistently insisted
+upon the existence of this Unity, to the conception of which the
+scientific world is only now approximatingly and laboriously ascending.</p>
+
+<p>If there be such Analogy in Nature furnishing an echo and an image in
+every department of Being of all that exists in every other department
+of Being, certainly that Analogy must be <i>most distinct</i> and <i>clearly
+discoverable as between the Elements, or the lowest and simplest
+Constituents of Being in each Sphere</i>. The lowest and simplest elements
+of Language are Oral Sounds, which in written Languages are represented
+by Letters, and constitute the Alphabets of those Languages. The
+Alphabets of Sound must be clearly distinguished from the mere
+Letter-Alphabets by which the Sounds are variously represented. The
+Sound-Alphabets (the Scales of Phonetic Elements) of any two Languages
+differ only in the fact that one of the Languages may include a few
+Sounds which are not heard in the other, or may omit a few which are.</p>
+
+<p>The Mouth, the Larynx (a cartilaginous box at the top of the windpipe),
+and the Nose&mdash;the compound organ of speech&mdash;constitute an instrument,
+capable, like the accordeon, for instance, of a certain number of
+distinct touches and consequent vocal effects, which produce the sounds
+heard in all existing Languages. The total of the possible sounds so
+produced or capable of production may be called the Crude or Unwinnowed
+Alphabet of Nature, or the Natural Alphabet of Human Language
+generically or universally considered. Thus, for instance, the sound
+represented in English and the Southern European Languages generally, by
+the letter <i>m</i>, is made by the contact of the two lips, while at the
+same time the sounding breath so interrupted is projected upon the
+<i>sounding board</i> of the head <i>through the nose</i>, whence <i>resounding</i>, it
+is discharged outwardly, this process giving to the sound produced that
+peculiar effect called <i>nasal</i> or <i>nose-sound</i>; and precisely this sound
+can be produced by the voice in no other way. This sound is,
+nevertheless, heard in nearly all Languages, although there are a few
+imperfect savage dialects which are destitute of it. The production of
+this sound, as above described, will be obvious to the reader if he will
+pronounce the word <i>my</i>, and will attend to the position of the lips
+when he begins to utter the word. Let him attempt to say <i>my</i>, without
+closing the lips, and the impossibility of doing so will be apparent.
+The production of the sound is therefore mechanical and local; and the
+number of sounds to be produced by the organ fixed and limited,
+therefore, by Nature herself. The very limited number of possible sounds
+may be guessed by the fact that of sounds produced by <i>completely
+closing the two lips</i>, there are only three, namely, <i>p</i>, <i>b</i>, <i>m</i>, in
+all the Languages of the earth (as in <i>p</i>-ie, <i>b</i>-y, <i>m</i>-y).</p>
+
+<p>It is the same with all the other vocal sounds. They are <i>necessarily</i>
+produced at certain fixed localities or Seats of Sound, in the mouth,
+and by a certain fixed modulation or mechanical use of the Organs of
+Speech. At least they are produced in and are confined to certain
+circumscribed regions of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[Pg 541]</a></span> mouth, and so differ in the method of
+their production as to be appropriately distributed into certain Natural
+Classes: as Vowels and Consonants; Labials (Lip Sounds); Linguo-dentals
+(Tongue-Teeth Sounds); Gutturals (Back-Mouth or Throat Sounds), etc.,
+etc.</p>
+
+<p>From the whole number of sounds which it is possible to produce&mdash;the
+whole Crude Natural Alphabet&mdash;one Language of our existing Languages
+selects a certain number less than the whole, and another Language doing
+the same, it happens that while they mainly coincide, they, so to speak,
+shingle over each other at random, and it follows: 1. That the Number of
+Sounds in different Languages is not uniform; 2. That of any two
+Languages compared, one will chance to have several sounds not heard in
+the other; and, 3. The erroneous impression is made upon the casual and
+superficial observer that in the aggregate of all Languages there must
+be an immense number of sounds; whereas, in fact, the total Alphabet of
+Vocal Sounds in nature, like the Gamut of Colors or Musical Tones, is
+quite limited, if we attend only to those which distinctly differ, or
+stand at appropriate and appreciable distances from each other.</p>
+
+<p>Further to illustrate: Assume that there are, capable of being clearly
+discriminated by the human ear, say sixty-four or seventy-two distinct
+Elementary Sounds of the human voice, in all&mdash;as many, for example, as
+there are Chemical Elements; some existing Languages select and make use
+of twenty, some of twenty-four, some of thirty, and some of forty of
+these sounds, omitting the rest.</p>
+
+<p>But&mdash;and here is a very important point and a real discovery in this
+investigation&mdash;it will be found, if closely attended to, that a certain
+selection of one half of this number, say thirty-two or thirty-six of
+these sounds, embraces the whole body of vocal elements <i>usually
+occurring</i> in all the forms of speech on the planet; the remaining half
+consisting of rare, exceptional, and, we may nearly say, useless sounds.
+This statement will again be better understood by analogy with what
+regards the Elements of Chemistry. Just about one half of the known
+elements of matter occur with frequency, and enter into useful and
+ordinary combinations to produce the great mass of known substances. The
+remaining half are unfrequent, obscure, and relatively unimportant; some
+of them never having been seen even by many of our most eminent
+chemists. Even should a few new elements be discovered, it cannot be
+anticipated that any one of them should prove to be of leading
+importance, like oxygen, carbon, or sulphur.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, should some future great chemical discovery realize
+the dream of the alchemists, and enable us to transmute iron into gold,
+and indeed every chemical Element into every other chemical Element
+(convertible identity), still the sixty-four (nearly) Chemical Elements
+now known would remain the real Elements of Organic and Inorganic
+Compounds, in a sense just as important as that in which they are now so
+regarded. The now known Elements would still continue to constitute <i>The
+Crude Natural Alphabet of Matter</i>, and be correspondential with <i>The
+Crude Natural Alphabet of Sounds in Language</i>. The transmutability of
+one element into another indefinitely, would not, in any but a certain
+absolute or transcendental sense, cause the Elements to be regarded as
+one, or as any less number than now. It would be, on the contrary, a
+fact precisely corresponding with the actual and well-known
+transmutability of speech-sounds into each other as occurs in the
+phenomena of Etymology and Comparative Philology. This is so extensive,
+as now understood by Comparative Philologists, that it would be hardly
+difficult to prove that every sound is capable of being transmuted into
+every other sound, either directly or through intermediates; and yet we
+do not in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[Pg 542]</a></span> least tend to cease to regard the several sounds as they
+stand as the real Elements of Speech.</p>
+
+<p>It is this transmutability of Correspondential Elements in another
+sphere of Being, which bases the presumption, or gives to it at least
+countenance from a new quarter, that the metals and other chemical
+Elements may be actually convertible substances by means of processes
+not yet suspected or sufficiently understood. The more careful study of
+the Analogy with the Elements of other spheres, and perhaps specifically
+with the Elements of Language, under the presiding influence of larger
+scientific generalizations and views than those which now prevail in the
+scientific world, may be, and, it would even seem, ought to be the means
+of revealing the law of Elementary Transmutations in the Chemical
+Domain. The expectation of a future discovery of the resolution of the
+existing Elements of Matter, and their convertibility even, is reviving
+in the chemical field, and even so distinguished a chemist and thinker
+as Professor Draper does not hesitate to sustain its probability by the
+weight of his authority and belief. The process by which the
+transmutation of Elements is actually effected in Language, is by <i>Slow
+and Continued Attrition</i>. These very words suggest a process but little
+resorted to in chemical experiment, but which probably intervenes in the
+Laboratory of Nature, when she makes the diamond out of a substance,
+simple carbon, the most familiarly known to chemistry, but out of which
+the human chemist is entirely unable by any process known to him to
+produce that precious gem.</p>
+
+<p>Whether this particular hint is of any value or not, one thing is
+certain, that it is in the direction of Universal and Comparative
+Science&mdash;the analogical echo of the parts of one Domain of Being with
+the parts of another Domain and of all other Domains of Being; of the
+phenomena of one Science with the phenomena of other Sciences; and
+especially as among the Elements of each&mdash;that we must look for the next
+grand advances in Scientific Discovery. The world urgently requires the
+existence of a new class of scientific students who shall concern
+themselves precisely with these questions of the relations and the
+indications of unity between the different Sciences; not to displace,
+but to transcend and to co&ouml;rdinate the labors of that noble Army of
+Scientific Specialists, with which Humanity is now so extensively and so
+happily provided.</p>
+
+
+<p>The <i>Select</i> Lingual Alphabet of Nature, as distinguished from the
+<i>Crude</i> Natural Alphabet above described, is then the expurgated scale
+of sounds, say thirty-two; the sounds of usual occurrence in polished
+languages; one half of the whole number; the residuum after rejecting an
+equal number of obscure, unimportant, or barbarous sounds, of possible
+production and of real occurrence in some of the cruder Languages, and
+as crude elements even in the more refined Languages now extant. The two
+sounds of <i>th</i> in English, as in <i>th</i>igh and <i>th</i>y (the <i>theta</i> of the
+Greek), and the two shades of the <i>ch</i>-sound in German, as in na<i>ch</i> and
+i<i>ch</i>, are instances of crude sounds in refined Languages, for which
+other Languages, more fastidious for Euphony, as French and Italian for
+example, naturally substitute <i>t</i>, <i>d</i>, and <i>k</i> (<i>c</i>). The obscure and
+crude sounds would always retain, however (in respect to the idea of a
+Universal Alphabet), a subordinate place and value, and should be
+gathered and represented in a Supplementary Alphabet for special and
+particular uses.</p>
+
+<p>It has been the mistake of Phoneticians and Philologians, heretofore, to
+recognize no difference in the relative importance of sounds. They have
+sought, through every barbarous dialect, as well as every refined
+tongue, and gathered by the drag-net of observation, every barbarous and
+obscure as well as every polite sound which by any accident ever enters
+into the con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[Pg 543]</a></span>stitution of speech. The clucks of Hottentot Tribes and the
+whistle heard in some of the North American Languages have been reckoned
+in, upon easy terms, with the more serviceable and euphonious members of
+the Phonetic family, and mere trivial shades of sounds were put upon the
+same footing as the pivotal sounds themselves. This is as if certain
+obdurate compounds were introduced in the first instance among Chemical
+Elements&mdash;which subsequent analysis may even prove to be the case in
+respect to some substances that we now recognize as Elements&mdash;and then,
+by assigning to the least important of Elements the same rank, and
+giving to them the same attention as to the most important, the number
+were augmented beyond the practical or working body of Elements, and our
+treatises upon Chemistry encumbered by a mass of useless matter. Or
+again, it is as if among the Elements of Music were included all
+conceivable sounds, as the squeal, the shriek, the sob, etc.; and as if,
+in addition to this, the least intervals, the quarter tones for
+instance, were ranked as the musical equals of the whole tones.</p>
+
+<p>If it should prove a matter of fact, as capable of exact scientific
+demonstration as any other, that the Consonant and Vowel Elements of
+Oral Language are, in a radical and important sense, repetitory of, or
+correspondential with, Musical Tones or the Elements of Music, as well
+as with Chemical Elements, and these again with the Elements of
+Numerical Calculation, of Form, or the Science of Morphology, and, in
+fine, with the Prime Metaphysical Elements of Being, or the first
+Categories of Thought, perhaps we may by such speculations catch a
+glimpse of the possibilities of a great lingual discovery, having the
+attributes here indicated. <i>Why should not the Elements of Speech have
+been brought by Nature herself into some sort of parallelism with the
+Elements of Thought which it is the special province of Speech to
+represent?</i> Why, again, should not the Prime Elements of every new
+domain of Being be merely a Repetition in new form of the Prime Elements
+of the Universe, as a whole, and of those especially of Language, its
+representative domain?&mdash;Language being the literal word, as Universal
+Law is the Logos or the Word <i>par excellence</i>, and Divine. In that
+event, every speech-element would be of necessity inherently charged
+with the precise kind and degree of meaning specifically relating it,
+first to one of the Prime Elements of Being, metaphysically considered,
+and then, by an echo of resemblance, to one of the Prime Elements of
+every subordinate domain of Being throughout the Universe. The
+Combinations of the Letter-Sounds would then constitute words exactly,
+simply, and naturally expressive of any combination of the Elements of
+Being, either, first, in the Universal domain, or, secondly, in any
+subordinate domain, physical or psychical. In this way a grand and
+wonderful system of technicals would be wrought out for all the
+sciences&mdash;<i>provided by Nature herself, and discovered, only, by man</i>. It
+is at least certain that if a grand Science of Analogy is ever to be
+discovered, capable of Unifying all our knowledges, an anticipation
+vaguely entertained by our most advanced scientific minds, it must be
+sought for primarily among the simplest elements of every domain of
+science, or, what is the same thing, every domain of Thought and Being.
+It is alike certain that heretofore the first step even has never been
+rightly taken among the men of science to investigate in that direction.
+The failure of all those who have entertained the idea of a Universal
+Analogy as a basis of Scientific Unity, has resulted from the fact that,
+drawn rapidly along by the beauty of their conceptions, they have
+attempted to rush forward into the details of their subject, and have
+lost themselves in the infinity of these, without the wisdom and
+patience to establish a basis for their immense fab<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[Pg 544]</a></span>ric in the exact
+discovery and knowledge of Elements. They have hastened forward to the
+limbs and twigs and leaves and flowers and fruitage, without having
+securely planted the roots of their scientific tree in the solid earth.
+Such was the case with Oken, the great German Physio-Philosopher and
+Transcendental Anatomist, the pupil of Hegel, who exerted a profound
+influence over the scientific mind of Germany for thirty years, but has
+now sunk into disrepute for want of just that elementary and
+demonstrative discovery of first Elements, and the rigorous adhesion to
+such perceptions of that kind as were partially entertained by him and
+his school of powerful thinkers and scientists.</p>
+
+<p>To repeat the leading idea above, which is so immensely pregnant with
+importance, and, perhaps we may add, so essentially new: The
+combinations of Speech-Elements&mdash;in a perfect and normal Language for
+the Human Race, which we are here assuming that Nature should have
+provided, and which may be only awaiting discovery&mdash;when they should be
+rightly or scientifically arranged into words and sentences, would be
+exactly concurrent and parallel with the combinations of the <i>Prime
+Elements</i> of Thought and Being in the Real Universe; so that each word,
+so formed, would become exactly charged with the kind and amount of
+meaning contained in the thing named or the conception intended. An idea
+will thus be obtained by the reader, somewhat vague, no doubt, at first,
+but which would become perfectly distinct, as the subject should be
+gradually unfolded, of the way in which a universal language naturally
+expressive of Thoughts and Feelings, and capable of unlimited expansion,
+might perhaps be evolved from a profound understanding of the Analogies
+of the Universe. It is important, however, in order that this theory,
+now when it is first presented, should not unnecessarily prejudice
+cautious and conservative minds, and seem to them wholly Utopian, to
+guard it by the additional statement that, while such a language might
+be appropriately denominated Universal, there is a sense in which it
+would still not be so; or, in other words, that it could only become
+Universal by causing to coalesce with its own scientifically organized
+structure, the best material already wrought out, and existing as
+<i>natural growth</i> in the dead and living languages now extant; by
+absorbing them, so to speak, in itself. It would have no pretension,
+therefore, directly to supersede any of the existing languages, nor even
+ultimately to dispense with the great mass of the material found in any
+of them.</p>
+
+<p>It is a common prejudice among the learned that Language is a growth,
+and cannot in any sense be a structure; in other words, that it is
+purely the subject of the instinctive or unthoughted development of man,
+and not capable of being derived from reflection, or the deliberate
+application of the scheming faculty of the intellect. A little
+reflection will show that this opinion is only a half truth. It is
+certain that language has received its primitive form and first
+development by the instinctive method. It is equally true, however, that
+even as respects our existing languages, they have been overlaid by a
+subsequent formation, originating with the development of the
+<i>Sciences</i>, due wholly to reflection on the scheming faculty of man, and
+already equal in extension to the primitive growth. The Nomenclature of
+each of the Sciences has been devised by the reflective genius of
+individuals, and arbitrarily imposed, so to speak, upon the Spoken and
+Written Languages of the World, as they previously existed. From the
+cabinets and books of the learned, they gradually pass into the speech
+of the laity, and become incorporated with the primitive growth. If,
+instead of the Carbonate of Soda, the Protoxide of Nitrogen, and other
+Chemical Technicalities arbitrarily formed in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[Pg 545]</a></span> modern times from the
+ancient Greek Language, terms which the ancient Greeks themselves never
+heard nor conceived of, we had words derived from similar combinations
+of Anglo-Saxon or German Roots; if, for instance, for Protoxide of
+Nitrogen, we had the <i>First-sour-stuffness</i>, or the
+<i>First-sharp-thingness of Salt-petreness</i>, and so throughout the immense
+vocabulary of chemistry, what an essentially different aspect would the
+whole English Language now wear! Had Lavoisier, therefore, chosen the
+Anglo-Saxon or the German as the basis of the chemical nomenclature now
+in use, we can readily perceive how the intellectual device of a single
+savant, would, ere this time, have sent a broad current of new
+development through the heart of all the advanced Languages of the
+earth; of a different kind wholly, but no more extensive, no more novel,
+and truly foreign to the primitive instinctual growth of those
+Languages, no more purely the result of intellectual contrivance, than
+the current of development to which he actually did give origin.</p>
+
+<p>Lavoisier chose the dead Greek as a fountain from which to draw the
+elements of his new verbal compounds, assigning to those elements
+arbitrarily new volumes of meaning, and constructing from them, with no
+other governing principle than his own judgment of what seemed best, a
+totally new Language, as it were, adequate to the wants of the new
+Science. Still, despite these imperfections in the method, the demand,
+with the growth of the new ideas, for a new expansion of the powers of
+Language, in a given direction, made the contrivance of the great
+chemist a successful interpolation upon the speech-usages of the world.
+It is certainly not therefore inconceivable&mdash;because of any governing
+necessity that Language should be a purely natural growth&mdash;that other
+and greater modifications of the speech of mankind may occur; when&mdash;not
+an arbitrary contrivance upon an imperfect basis and of a limited
+application is in question, but&mdash;when a real discovery, the revelation
+of the true scientific bases of Language, and limitless applications in
+all directions, should be concerned.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, the extent of the practical applications of strictly
+scientific principles to the Structure of Language is subject to
+limitation. Even mathematics, theoretically the most unlimited of the
+existing Sciences, is practically limited very soon by the complexity of
+the questions involved in the higher degrees of equations. In the same
+manner, while it may be possible to construct a Scientific Language
+adequate to all the wants of Language, in which exactness is involved;
+that is to say, capable of classifying and naming every object and idea
+in the Universe which is itself capable of exact classification and
+definition, still there remains an immense sphere, an equal half, it may
+be said, of the Universe of objects and conceptions, which have not that
+susceptibility; which are, in other words, so complex, so idiosyncratic,
+or so vague in their nature, that the best guide for the formation of an
+appropriate word for their expression is not Intellect or Reflection,
+but that very Instinct which has presided over the formation of such
+Languages as we now have. We may accurately define a triangle or a cube,
+and might readily bring them within the range of a Universal Language
+scientifically constructed; but who would venture to attempt by any
+verbal contrivance to denote the exact elements of thought and feeling
+which enter into the meaning of the verbs <i>to screech</i> or <i>to twinge</i>?</p>
+
+<p>There is, therefore, ample scope and a peremptory demand for both
+methods of lingual development. The New Scientific Language herein
+suggested would be universal within the limit within which Science
+itself is universal. But there is another sphere within which Science,
+born of the Intellect, has only a subordinate sway, and in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[Pg 546]</a></span> which
+instinct, or that faculty which, in the higher aspect of it, we
+denominate Intuition, is supreme. This faculty has operated as instinct
+in the first stage of the growth of Language, the Natural or
+Instinctual; it should now give place to the Intellect, in the second
+stage, the Scientific; after which it should regain its ascendency as
+Intuition, in the final finish and perfectionment of the Integral Speech
+of Mankind, the Artistic.</p>
+
+<p>Such a Language would be, to all other Languages, precisely what a
+unitary Science would be to all the special Sciences; and we have seen
+how it might happen that the same discovery should furnish both the
+Language and the Science. Without rudely displacing any existing
+Language, it would, besides filling its own central sphere of uses,
+furnish a rallying point of unity between them all. It would ally them
+to itself, not by the destruction of their several individualities, but
+by developing the genius of each to the utmost. It would enrich them
+all, by serving as the common interpreter between them, until each would
+attain something of the powers of all, or at least the full capacity for
+availing itself of the aid of all others, and chiefly of the central
+tongue, in all those respects in which in consequence of its own special
+character it should remain individually defective. The new Scientific
+and Central Language might thus plant itself in the midst of the
+Languages; gradually assimilate them to itself; drawing at the same time
+an augmentation of its own materials from them, until they would become
+mere idioms of it, and finally, perhaps, in a more remote future,
+disappear altogether as distinct forms of speech, and be blended into
+harmony in the bosom of the central tongue.</p>
+
+<p>The resources of Language for the formation of new words, by the
+possible euphonic combination of elementary sounds, is as nearly
+infinite as any particular series of combinations usually called
+infinite; all such series having their limitations, as in the case of
+the different orders of the Infinite in the calculus which are limited
+by the fact that there are different orders. Yet, notwithstanding that
+this inexhaustible fountain of Phonetic wealth exists directly at hand,
+none of these resources have ever been utilized by any scientific
+arrangement and advice. Only so many verbal forms as happen to have
+occurred in any given language, developed by the chance method, in the
+Greek, for instance, are chosen as a basis, and employed as elements for
+the new verbal formatives now coming into use with such astonishing
+rapidity in all the sciences. For instance, let us take the consonant
+combination <i>kr</i> (or <i>cr</i>), and add the following series of vowels: <i>i</i>
+(pronounced <i>ee</i>), <i>e</i> (pronounced <i>a</i>), <i>a</i> (pronounced <i>ah</i>), <i>o</i>
+(pronounced <i>aw</i>), <i>u</i> (pronounced <i>uh</i>), <i>o</i> (pronounced <i>o</i>), and <i>u</i>
+(pronounced <i>oo</i>); and we construct the following series of euphonic
+triliteral roots:</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<ul><li>Kri (Kree)</li>
+
+<li>Kre (Kra or Kray)</li>
+
+<li>Kra (Krah)</li>
+
+<li>Kr<i>o</i> (Kraw)</li>
+
+<li>Kr<i>u</i> (Kruh)</li>
+
+<li>Kro (Kro)</li>
+
+<li>Kru (Kroo).</li></ul>
+
+
+
+<p>Let us now add the termination <i>o</i>, and we have the following list of
+formatives:</p>
+
+
+<ul><li>Kri-o (Kre&egrave;-o)</li>
+
+<li>Kre-o (Kra-o)</li>
+
+<li>Kra-o (Krah-o)</li>
+
+<li>Kr<i>o</i>-o (Kraw-o)</li>
+
+<li>Kr<i>u</i>-o (Kr<i>uh</i>-o)</li>
+
+<li>Kro-o (Kro-o)</li>
+
+<li>Kru-o (Kroo-o).</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>Of these verbal forms only two occur in any of the well-known
+Southwestern Languages of Europe, namely, <i>Creo</i>, I CREATE, of the
+Latin, Italian, etc., and <i>Crio</i>, I REAR, of the Spanish. The other
+forms are entirely unused. Of any other simple series of Euphonic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[Pg 547]</a></span>
+combinations, such as Phonetic art can readily construct, there is the
+same wasteful neglect, and, in consequence of this total failure of the
+scientific world to extract these treasures of Phonic wealth lying
+directly beneath their feet, they are driven to such desperate devices
+as that of naming the two best-known and most familiar order of fishes,
+those usually found on our breakfast tables, <i>Acanthopterygii
+Abdominales</i>, and <i>Malacopterygii Subbrachiati</i>; and the common and
+beautiful bird called bobolink is <i>Dolichonyx Orixyvora</i>. For the same
+reason&mdash;the entire absence of any economical and systematized use of our
+phonetic materials by the scientific world&mdash;the writer found himself,
+recently, in attempting certain generalizations of the domain of
+science, stranded almost at the commencement, upon such verbal shoals as
+<i>Anthropomorphus Inorganismoidismus</i>; and the subsequent steps in the
+mere naming of discriminations simple enough in themselves, became
+wholly impossible. The urgent necessity existing, therefore, for the
+radical intervention of Science in the discovery of true principles
+applicable to the construction of its own tools and instruments, can
+hardly be denied or questioned.</p>
+
+<p>The immense condensation of meaning, and the consequent compactness and
+copiousness of which a Language based on a meaning inherently contained
+by analogy in the simplest elements of sound would be susceptible, would
+give to such a Language advantages as the instrument of thought and
+communication, which are but very partially illustrated in the
+superiority of printing by movable types over manuscript, for the rapid
+multiplication of books.</p>
+
+<p>In the <i>compound words</i> of existing Languages each root-word of the
+combination has a distinct meaning, and the joint meaning of the parts
+so united is the description or definition of the new idea; thus in
+German, <i>Finger</i> is FINGER, and <i>Hut</i> is HAT, and <i>Finger-hut</i>
+(FINGER-HAT) is a <i>thimble</i>; <i>Hand</i> is HAND, <i>Schue</i> is SHOE, and
+<i>Hand-schue</i> is <i>a glove</i>, etc. So in English, <i>Wheel-barrow</i>,
+<i>Thunder-storm</i>, etc. The admirable expressiveness of such terms, and
+the great superiority in this respect of Languages like the Sanscrit,
+Greek, German, etc., in which such self-defining combinations are
+readily formed, over Spanish, Italian, French, and other derivative
+languages, the genius of which resists combination, is immediately
+perceived and acknowledged. But if we analyze any one of these compound
+words, <i>Finger-hut</i>, for instance, we shall perceive that while each of
+the so-called elements of combination, <i>Finger</i> and <i>Hut</i>, has a
+distinct meaning, which enters into the more specific meaning of the
+compound, yet they are not, in any true sense, elements, or, in other
+words, that they are not the ultimate elements of the compound words.
+<i>Finger</i> is itself constituted, in the first instance, of two syllables,
+<i>Fing</i> and <i>er</i>, which, in accordance with the same principle upon which
+the compound word <i>Finger-hut</i> is organized, should describe the thing
+signified, as would be the case if <i>Fing</i> meant HAND, and <i>er</i> meant
+CONTINUATION. <i>Finger</i> would then mean <span class="smcap">Hand-continuation</span>, and
+<i>Finger-hut</i> (<i>thimble</i>) would then be a <span class="smcap">Hand-continuation-hat</span>. But,
+again, <i>Fing</i> consists of three elementary sounds, <i>f-i-ng</i>, <i>er</i> of
+two, <i>e-r</i>, and <i>hut</i> of three, <i>h-u-t</i>. Suppose now that the primary
+sound <i>f</i> had been scientifically discovered to be correspondential
+throughout all the realms of Nature and of Thought with <i>Superiority</i>,
+<i>High-position</i>, or <i>Upperness</i>; <i>i</i> with <i>centrality</i>, or <i>main body</i>,
+and <i>ng</i> with <i>member</i> or <i>branch</i>; the syllable <i>Fing</i> would then
+signify <span class="smcap">Upper-body-branch</span>, a very proper description of <i>the arm</i>.
+Suppose that <i>e</i> signified, in the same way, <i>flat, palm-like ideas and
+things generally</i> and that <i>r</i> alone signified <i>continuation</i>; then <i>er</i>
+would signify <span class="smcap">Palm-continuation</span>, and <i>Finger</i> would signify an
+<span class="smcap">Upper-body<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[Pg 548]</a></span>branch-palm-continuation</span>, or, in other words, a
+<i>Palm-continuation of an upper-body-branch</i>, and would so be completely
+<i>descriptive of</i>, at the same time that it would <i>denote</i>, a Finger.
+Suppose, again, that <i>h</i> signified inherently <i>rotundity</i> or
+<i>roundness</i>; <i>u</i>, <i>closeness</i>; and <i>t</i>, <i>roof</i> or <i>covering</i>; then <i>hut</i>
+would signify <span class="smcap">round-closed-cover</span>, a proper description of a <i>hat</i>; and
+<i>Finger-hut</i> would then mean
+<span class="smcap">An-upper-body-branch-palm-continuation-round-closed-cover</span>, or <i>the
+round-closed-cover of a palm-continuation of a superior limb or branch
+of the body</i>. It will be at once perceived how, with such resources of
+signification at command, compounds like <i>Acanthopterygii</i> to signify
+<i>thornfins</i>, <i>Malacopterygii Subbrachiati</i>, to signify <i>Under-arm soft
+fins</i>, or <i>Anthropomorphus Inorganismoidismus</i>, to signify <i>things in
+unorganized form, having a resemblance to man</i>, would soon come to be
+regarded as the lingual monsters which they really are.</p>
+
+<p>The difference between commencing the composition of words by the real
+elements of speech, represented by single letters, each charged with its
+own appropriate meaning, and conveying that meaning into every compound
+into which it should enter, from commencing the composition by assuming
+long words already formed in some existing language, as <i>Anthropos</i>
+(Greek word for <i>man</i>), <i>Acanthos</i> (Greek word for <i>spine</i>), <i>Keron</i>
+(Greek word for <i>fin</i> or <i>wing</i>), etc., as the first element of the new
+compounds, is infinite in its results upon the facility, copiousness,
+and expressiveness of the terminology evolved. It is like the difference
+of man working by the aid of the unlimited resources of tools and
+machinery and the knowledge of chemistry, on the one hand, and man
+working with his unaided <i>bare hands</i>, and in ignorance of the nature of
+the substances he employs, on the other hand. The scientific world has
+not hitherto known how to construct the lingual tools and instruments
+which are indispensable to its own rapidly augmenting and complicated
+operations; to analyze and apply the lingual materials at its command;
+and to simplify and unify the nomenclatures of all the sciences, in
+order to quicken a thousandfold the operation of all the mental
+faculties, in the perception and exact vocal indication of all the
+infinitely numerous close discriminations and broad generalizing
+analogies with which nature abounds.</p>
+
+<p>It is hardly necessary to say that the particular meanings assigned
+above to the single sounds in the analysis of the German word
+<i>Finger-hut</i>, are not assumed in any sense to be the real meanings of
+the vocal elements involved. The whole case is supposititious, and
+assumed merely to illustrate the unused possibilities of Language in the
+construction of significant words, and especially in the construction of
+scientific technicalities. To found a real Language of this kind, it
+would be necessary, first, to work up patiently to the true meanings of
+the Elementary Sounds of Human Speech, and then to the analogy of those
+meanings with the elements of universal being (the categories of the
+understanding, etc.), and finally of these again with the elements of
+each of the special Sciences.</p>
+
+<p>Could such a discovery be actually accomplished; should it prove to be
+the simple fact of nature that every sound of the human voice is
+Nature's chosen vehicle for the communication of an equally elementary
+idea; and that the Combinations of the Elementary Sounds into Words do
+inherently and necessarily, so soon as these primitive meanings and the
+law of their combination are known, produce words infinite in number and
+perfect in structure, naturally expressive of every precise idea of
+which the human mind is capable, it becomes perfectly conceivable how a
+Natural Universal Language would be evolved by discovery alone. The
+creation of the Language would belong to Nature as truly and
+absolutely&mdash;in a sense, more truly and absolutely&mdash;than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[Pg 549]</a></span> our existing
+instinctual Languages. It would be in fact the normal Language of
+Humanity, from which, for the want of such a discovery, mankind has been
+unnaturally debarred. The fact would prove to be that we have ever been
+banished from our true vernacular, and have been, all our lives,
+speaking foreign or strange tongues, from which we have only to recur or
+come home. May we not, therefore, found in Science the rational
+expectation, that in due time, from a Lingual Paradise Lost in the
+remote Past, we may recur to a Lingual Paradise Regained, in literal
+fulfilment of the promise of prophecy, that all the nations of the earth
+shall be of one speech?</p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="A_SUMMERS_NIGHT" id="A_SUMMERS_NIGHT"></a>A SUMMER'S NIGHT.</h2>
+
+
+
+<blockquote><p>[<i>Translated literally from the original Polish of Count S. Krasinski,</i>
+<i>by Prof. Podbielski; prepared for</i> The Continental <i>by Martha Walker</i>
+<i>Cook.</i>]</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'O'er this sad world Death folds his gloomy pall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright buds hatch worms, flowers die, and woe shrouds all.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Malizewski.</span><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Oh, look on me, my fellow countrymen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the same Fatherland! On me, so young,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Passing o'er the last road, gazing for the last time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Helios&mdash;to see him rise no more for ever!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In his cold cradle Death rolls all asleep;</span>
+<span class="i0">Me <i>living</i> he conducts to his black shores;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Me wretched! unbetrothed! upon whose ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No bridal chant has ever hymned its joys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stern Acheron alone calls to his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Death must be my icy Bridegroom now!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Sophocles</span>: <i>Antigone</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<h4><a name="CHAPTER_1" id="CHAPTER_1"></a>CHAPTER I.</h4>
+
+
+<p>I behold her as they lead her forth, with myrtle wreath upon her brow,
+and floating drapery of snow. She moves slowly, as if in fear, and the
+church rises like a vast cemetery before her eyes. Charmed with her
+modest loveliness, men smile on her as she glides forward, while
+children, changed into little angels, strew fresh flowers before her.
+The bishop and attendant priests look bright in gay dalmatics; and
+throngs of people crowd round, praising, envying, and wishing bliss. She
+alone is silent, with long lashes shading her downcast eyes, as she
+leans on the arms of her maidens.</p>
+
+<p>Weariness is in every movement of her slight form, her nerves seem
+unstrung, and the rays of soul gleam vague and troubled through the
+expanded pupils of her blue eyes; it were indeed hard to divine whether
+plaint or prayer would breathe through the half-open lips. As she passes
+on before the shrines and chapels she lifts her hand, as if intending to
+make the sign of the cross, but she seems without energy to complete the
+symbols, and they fall broken and half formed in the air. Inclining her
+head before the Mother of God, she bends as if about to kneel, but, her
+strength evidently failing her, she moves tremblingly on toward the
+sanctuary, and the Great Altar in its gloomy depths looms before her
+like a sepulchre.</p>
+
+<p>There, encircled by relations and friends, with pride and pleasure
+beaming from his aged eyes, her father awaits her; and well may he be
+proud, for never had God given to declining years a lovelier child. She
+shines upon the sunset of his life with the growing lustre of the
+evening star, and never has its light beamed dim upon him until this
+very hour. He will not, however, think of this momentary eclipse now,
+for this same hour will see the fulfilment of his brightest dreams. In
+his joy and pride he exclaims to the friends around him: 'Look on my
+child; how young, pure, and innocent she is&mdash;trembling in the ignorance
+of her approaching happiness!' Then he gazes wistfully, far as his eye
+can reach, down the long aisles of the church, to ascertain if the
+bridegroom yet appears, and, seeing him not, his gray eyebrows fall, and
+settle into a frown.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>But peace soon again smoothes his broad forehead. Alas! the illusions of
+the old stand round their petrifying souls like statues of granite; no
+earthly power avails to strike them down, and death alone can break
+them. The young see their dreams floating in the air, while shifting
+rainbows play above them as they rise and melt upon the view. But the
+hopes of the old grow hard and stony as they near the grave; their
+<i>desires</i> assume the form of <i>realities</i>. The harsh rock of bygone
+experience stands between them and the truths of the present. Seating
+themselves immovably upon it, the surging life-stream hurtles on far
+below, bearing them not forward on its hurrying flow. Withered garlands
+and the ashes of once fiery hearts drift on; shattered wrecks, with torn
+sails and broken masts, driven and tossed by eternal whirlwinds, appear
+and vanish in the river's rush; but the old remain motionless above. The
+hot rain of stars forever falling there dies out with dull moan, while
+the glad waves and white foam laugh as the ruined wrecks toss helplessly
+in the strong winds; but the aged heed it not: they have grown into one
+with the rock of the past, they build air castles over the roaring
+depths, they look upon the waves, as they surge into each other, as
+stable altars of peace and happiness. They command their sons and
+daughters to vow faith in the light of the past, but ere the oath is
+fully spoken, the altar is under other skies, encircled by other
+horizons!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Surrounded by friends in gay attire, the bridegroom, full of life and
+vigor, rushes into the church. He wears a national dress, <i>but his
+nation is not that of the old man</i>. The crowd disperse from right to
+left as he passes on, greeting him with lowly bows: scarcely deigning to
+return the courtesy, he clatters up the aisle with rapid stride, and
+stands by the side of the kneeling bride. He places his lips to the ear
+of the old man, and whispers to him; they converse in low tones, the old
+man with an air of regal authority, the young one gesturing rapidly with
+his hands.</p>
+
+<p>The bishops now slowly approach, the tapers are lighted upon the altar,
+a solemn silence falls upon the holy temple, two hands, two souls are to
+be united forever! A shiver of awe thrills through the assembly.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The beams of the setting sun pour in through the stained panes of the
+windows their lines of crimson light, as if streams of blood were
+flowing through the church. Deepening in the approaching twilight, they
+fall in their dying splendor on the brow of a man who stands alone in
+one of the side chapels. The figure of a dead hero extended upon a
+monument lies near him, as, immovable as the statue itself, he stands
+with his gaze riveted upon the altar whence the bishop addresses the
+bride. The crimson light falling full upon him betrays the secrets of
+his soul, his noble brow tells of fierce struggle within, but neither
+prayer, sigh, nor groan escapes him. His lips are closely pressed
+together, while suppressed anguish writhes them into a stern smile&mdash;but
+the streams of ruby light which had shone on his face for the moment,
+fade in the twilight, and he is lost in the gloom of the deepening
+shadows.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>But when the vows were all spoken, the ceremonies over, when the
+bridegroom raised up the bride, and she fell into the arms of her
+father, when he bore her onward to the gates of the church, with
+thousands of tapers following after, when the crowd dispersed, and the
+sounds of the footsteps were dying away in the distance, and the
+cathedral grew still as the grave, holding only the dead and the few
+half-living monks moving darkly in its depths&mdash;the man on whom had shone
+the crimson light leaves the chapel, comes up the aisle, strikes his
+breast, and falls forward on the steps of the altar, rises suddenly, and
+again falls, then seats himself, while the lights from behind the great
+crucifix of silver shine down solemnly upon him. His face is turned away
+from the holy things of the sanctuary; his eyes gaze afar, past the
+gates through which the bride had vanished. He sees the blue night-sky,
+and a single star sparkling upon it, and as he looks upon the star, he
+takes a sword from under his cloak, draws the steel from the scabbard,
+and, still gazing upon the star, sharpens it on his whetstone. Thus,
+with widely opened eye, yet seeing, hearing nothing, the somnambulist,
+wrapped in deep, magnetic sleep, strides on in the moonlight, possessed
+by a power of which he is not conscious, which may stain his hands with
+blood, or hold him back from the verge of an abyss. Passion drinks its
+glow from the rays of the sun; it may lead us safely, or drive us far
+astray!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>A monk approaches the man kneeling before the high altar, and says:</p>
+
+<p>'Brother, whosoever thou mayst be, go to rest, and do not disturb the
+peace of the Lord.'</p>
+
+<p>The man answers nothing. Another draws near him, saying:</p>
+
+<p>'Away from the church; be not guilty of sacrilege!'</p>
+
+<p>The man makes no reply. A third monk stands beside him and says:</p>
+
+<p>'I excommunicate thee, and the steel which thou darest to draw at the
+very foot of the cross.'</p>
+
+<p>The culprit then rises, and replies:</p>
+
+<p>'I waited for these words, that the stroke might be certain, and the
+blow mortal.'</p>
+
+<p>He leaves the church slowly&mdash;slowly, as if counting his own footfalls,
+knowing them to be his last on earth!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Meanwhile the night falls so softly, the skies hang so transparently
+above, the air is so tranquil, that the soul trembles with delight, and
+the heart unconsciously forebodes happiness. The stars peer up above the
+mountains, like the eyes of angels flashing through the blue spaces of
+the heavens. Swathed in her bands of darkness, and breathing up to them
+the perfume of her flowers and the sighs of her lovers, the earth seems
+grateful to them for their golden glances. A fitting night, surely, for
+a bridal so illustrious as the one we have just seen; a long spring will
+bloom from it upon the aged father. What more could he ask for his
+children? His new son in high favor with the emperor, lord of lands and
+serfs; his daughter, good and beautiful as an angel, goes not
+portionless into the house of her husband, but is the sole heiress of
+immense estates. What maiden would not envy her; what youth not wish to
+take his place? And the thoughts of the old man run pleasantly on: he
+thinks how happily his days will flow, blessed with the smiles of his
+daughter, and surrounded by the splendor of his son. He already sees the
+little grandchildren springing up before him; flowers blooming along the
+pathway leading to his grave.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>A splendid festival is to take place in his castle; few princes would
+be able to give such an entertainment. The grounds are illumined as if
+it were day, barrels of pitch are everywhere burning, torches are
+blazing high upon his walls, windows and doors are thrown open, harps
+sound and trumpets thunder, mazourkas swell upon the ear, and the gay
+groups twine, twist, reel, half mad with joyous excitement. The old man
+strays through the lighted halls, and converses with his guests. Tears
+tremble in his eyes. Ah, many tears had gathered there in the troubled
+days of his life, through its hours of sweat and blood, but they are all
+passing now into these drops of gratitude to God who has brought him to
+this happy time in which past sorrows are all to be forgotten. Moving
+out upon his wide porticos, he pours coins from dishes of silver to the
+people below. Returning, he places clusters of diamonds on the young
+bosoms of the bridesmaids. Servants follow his footsteps, bending under
+the wealth they bear, handing to him glittering swords and golden
+chains, ostrich plumes, and Turkish scymitars, which, in memory of the
+day, he distributes among his guests. Sometimes he stops to take a
+chalice from the hands of a page, and wets his lips with Tokay, greeting
+his guests as he moves courteously on, wishing to warm all with the
+sunshine of his own happiness.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>He enters now the central dome of the castle, lined with exotic trees
+and perfumed plants; the vaulted roof is corniced with wrought marble,
+emblazoned with escutcheons of his ancestors, unsullied, glorious, holy!
+Stopping at the entrance, he looks for his child: she is not among the
+dancers, nor in the throngs of the spectators. The bridegroom is indeed
+there, amusing himself with the various beauties present; and, for the
+second time in this happy day, the forehead of the old man lowers in
+grief or anger. He makes his way through the crowd, passes on through
+the orange trees, in the niches between which stand the now deserted
+seats rich in broidered tapestry. He lingers among them seeking his
+child, when he suddenly stops as if stricken with fierce pain. He has
+found her now; she is sitting quite alone, gazing sadly on a bunch of
+roses lying on her knee: dreamily she picks off the perfumed leaves,
+until the bare stems and thorns alone remain in her fragile hands. The
+old man silently approaches her. Suppressing his emotion, he says, with
+gentle voice:</p>
+
+<p>'How happy thy poor mother would have been to-day, my daughter! Ah, why
+was it not the will of God she should have blessed this bridal hour!'</p>
+
+<p>She raises her head, crushing the remains of the roses in her trembling
+hands, and in her confusion tries to fasten them on the hem of her
+dress: the sharp little stems plant themselves there, but stain its snow
+with the blood they had torn from the unconscious fingers.</p>
+
+<p>'Why weepest thou, my child? It cannot surely be the memory of thy
+mother which so moves thee: thou hast never seen her&mdash;she went to the
+fathers in the very hour in which thou camest to me. Look, daughter,
+thou woundest thyself!'</p>
+
+<p>He takes her hand in his, and softly draws from it the sharp thorns.</p>
+
+<p>'O father, it is not that which pains me! Forgive me&mdash;it is that&mdash;only
+that, my father.'</p>
+
+<p>She stands silently before him&mdash;great tears were falling slowly down her
+cheeks. He leans heavily upon her arm:</p>
+
+<p>'Thou must support me now, child, for I grow old and frail, my knees
+tremble under me; be thou my stay!'</p>
+
+<p>He walks on thoughtfully with her, trying to speak, but saying nothing,
+while around them float the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music
+swells upon the air.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>As they move on, the great clock of the castle strikes the hour. It is
+fastened to the moulding high on the wall; over it sits an ancient
+monarch in bronze, a ruler of many kingdoms, and at each stroke the
+statue of a palatine sallies forth, bows to the king of bronze, and
+again disappears within the opening wall&mdash;twelve strokes toll as they
+pass, and twelve palatines appear, make obeisance, and vanish. Hark!
+from the distant chambers sound the choir of female voices; vague and
+dreamy the notes begin, but at each return they grow clearer and more
+defined. They are gliding on from hall to hall, ever drawing nearer and
+ever calling more loudly upon the bride. The old man trembles; the pale
+girl falls into his arms. But soon recovering, she flies on from passage
+to passage, from room to room, from gallery to gallery, from vault to
+vault, everywhere pursued by the choir of bridesmaids, dragging the old
+man with her, not able to utter a single word&mdash;while around them breathe
+the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music swells upon the air.</p>
+
+<p>At last they stop in the chapel of the castle, where the ancestors rest
+in their coffins of stone. A few tapers burn around, and black draperies
+broidered with silver flow closely round the tombs. She, the youngest
+and last of the proud House, falls upon the grave of her mother,
+shudders, but speaks not. The old man says to the trembling girl:</p>
+
+<p>'Daughter, God did not vouchsafe to give me a male descendant to prolong
+the power of our race; He blessed me only with a maiden; but thy husband
+has sworn to take thy name, and thy children will bear the name of our
+fathers. Honor, then, the favor with which God has crowned thee. No lady
+in the land is thy equal, heiress as thou art of glory, treasures, and
+estates&mdash;it is thy duty to be obedient and faithful to thy husband until
+death.'</p>
+
+<p>He speaks to her in soft, low tones; slowly, as if he sought with each
+word to touch the heart of the silent child. She answers not, but lower
+and lower droops the fair young head, until her pale face is buried in
+her white hands, and the bridal wreath and veil fall from her brow upon
+the grave of her mother. A low groan bursts from the heart of the old
+man as he cries:</p>
+
+<p>'Daughter, dost thou hear? they approach to bear thee from the breast on
+which thou hast rested from thy very birth; to take thee from the arms
+of the old man who has so loved thee! Look up, look into my face; thou
+art another's now&mdash;take leave of me&mdash;say, 'Father, I am happy!''</p>
+
+<p>More and more closely she presses her hands to her face&mdash;and remains
+gloomily silent.</p>
+
+<p>'Child, dost thou really wish to lay me here among the dead? Dost thou
+desire me to rise no more on earth forever? Ah, the love in thy blue
+eyes has been my solace through my many life-storms. Thou art my single
+pearl, and I have given thee to the hands of the stranger, that thy
+brilliancy may remain unclouded, that it may ever glitter in its full
+splendor. What is the matter with thee? Speak, child, even if it be to
+complain, to tell me thou art wretched.'</p>
+
+<p>Grasping the white marble of the grave with both hands for support, with
+gasping breath he awaits her answer. The vengeful sword of remorse is
+already in his soul; one groan, one spasm of anguish from the innocent
+victim would break his heart. Raising her heavy eyelids, his child seems
+to trace an expression of pity on his face, and for a moment dreams that
+hope is not yet past. Kneeling on the marble of the grave, and turning
+her young face, so sweet in its appealing anguish, full upon him, a
+<i>name</i> forces itself through her quivering lips&mdash;a sudden shivering
+shakes the frame of the old man, throwing him off from the grave of his
+young wife.</p>
+
+<p>'What name hast thou uttered? It must never be repeated&mdash;never! No; it
+were impossible. Tell me I have not heard thee aright; let it rest in
+eternal oblivion! Thou canst not dream of that ungrateful exile,
+conspiring against me because I prepared for him a brilliant future&mdash;the
+son of my brother joining with my enemies to compass my ruin! If them
+regrettest him, if thou hast a single lurking hope that I will ever
+permit thee to see that banished rebel, to clasp his hand in even common
+friendship, may the eternal curses of God rest upon you both!'</p>
+
+<p>A voiceless victim offered up upon the altar of the vengeful gods, the
+maiden has as yet suffered in silence, but rising now in solemn dignity,
+in a cold, firm, resolute tone, she says:</p>
+
+<p>'I love him, father.'</p>
+
+<p>The old man cannot bear these chill and fatal words. His brain reels,
+his hopes die, he falls at the foot of the grave, his soul rests for the
+moment with the ghosts of his ancestors. When he awakes to
+consciousness, the pale face of his child is bending tenderly over him,
+her caresses call him back to life. Hark! again he hears the sounding
+strophes of the wedding song; the chanting maidens cross the threshold;
+slowly singing, they surround the bride with snowy circle; nearer and
+nearer they cluster round her&mdash;she throws herself for refuge in the old
+man's arms!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The maidens now clasp, embrace the trembling bride, take her from her
+father's arms, and bear her on with them. They strew flowers in her
+path, burn incense around her, as they chant in ever-renewed chorals the
+dawning of a new and happy life, full of honor and blessing. The old man
+solemnly follows the choir until they reach the great stairway leading
+to the bridal chamber: there he bids them stop, and, making the sign of
+the cross, for the last time blesses the half-swooning girl.</p>
+
+<p>He stands for a moment wrapt in thought, then wends his way to the hall
+of feasting. Recovering his presence of mind, he flings aside the truth
+just forced upon him, as if it were all a dream; he commands it not to
+be; he almost persuades himself to believe it has never been! Greeting
+his guests anew, his air is calm and regal.</p>
+
+<p>The bridegroom, turning to his friends, exclaims:</p>
+
+<p>'Companions in arms, with whom I have spent so many joyous hours in camp
+and hall, I dedicate to you the hours of this my wedding night; nor will
+I seek my bride until the flush of dawn is in the sky. What hour do the
+heavens tell?'</p>
+
+<p>One of the revellers rises, draws back the curtain from the window, and
+says:</p>
+
+<p>'It is just past midnight; the moon rides high in the sky.'</p>
+
+<p>'Then am I still yours,' exclaims the youth, 'and again I pledge you in
+the rosy wine.' As he speaks he fills the cup of gold studded with
+diamonds, swallows the contents, and passes it to the nearest guest. But
+the heavy palm of the castle's lord rests upon his shoulder. Seizing
+another brimming cup, he says: 'I drain this to thy health, father, and
+our guests will surely pledge it with me.'</p>
+
+<p>The lord of the castle thanks him not; he points to the open door,
+through which may be seen, as they wind along the distant galleries and
+archways, the retreating forms of the now silent bridesmaids. Shaking
+his blonde curls, the youth answers:</p>
+
+<p>'These brave men have always served me faithfully; I have sworn to
+consecrate this night to them; we drink and feast together until Aurora
+leads the dawn.' Seizing the hands of those nearest to him, he resumes:
+'Companions, for this sacrifice swear to pursue, to hunt to death, as I
+shall command, the vile mob of rebels and traitors who infest these
+mountains.'</p>
+
+<p>They give the pledge, while <i>vivats</i> fill the hall. 'Long live our
+prince!' The face of the proud old man glimmers with a bluish rage, but
+the loud plaudits, the outstretched arms, the dazzling, naked swords,
+the wild, warlike enthusiasm bewilder his brain, while pride and hate,
+splendor and power, tempting and blinding his soul, veil in fleeting
+glitter the broken form of the lonely, weeping, wretched child. He is
+carried away in the excitement of the hour, and the loud voice which had
+once thundered in the battles of <i>his own</i> unhappy land, joins in the
+cry: 'Death to the rebels!' Deigning not, however, to remain longer with
+the guests, he sternly beckons to his attendants. They file in order
+before him with lighted torches. The youth rises, leaves his friends for
+an instant, and accompanies to the door of the saloon the old man, who
+takes leave of him with an air of aversion, while the youth returns to
+his friends:</p>
+
+<p>'By my good sword!' he exclaims, 'I will brook no control. I wedded a
+fair girl, not chains nor fetters. Let the dim moon light the solving of
+love's riddle for older maidens; my bride is young and lovely enough to
+bear the growing light of dawn.'</p>
+
+<p>Then taking aim with his Greek knife at the golden boss on the opposite
+wall, he strikes it in the centre; the guests follow, aim, and knives
+fly through the air, but none strike the centre of the target except
+himself. Full cups are poured to pledge their glorious chief. The flush
+of gratified vanity blooms in his young cheek, he caresses his mustache
+and plays with his blonde hair, he jokes with his guests; his jests are
+keen, light, witty, piercing like the sting of a wasp, and loud
+applauses greet his eager ear. Gliding over the surface of life, knowing
+nothing of its depths, he floats gracefully through its shallows. His
+blood, quickened by praise, flushes his face, his eye sparkles, his
+features play, but his heart is empty, his soul void, his intellect
+without expansion; he is as vain, weak, and selfish as an old coquette.</p>
+
+
+
+<h4><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h4>
+
+
+<p>In their naive songs, our people long remembered the valley in which the
+chieftain parted from his comrades. Our fathers called it the Valley of
+Farewells; our children so will call it should our songs endure through
+another generation&mdash;should not our language, with ourselves, be
+extinguished forever!</p>
+
+<p>In a valley circled by three hills of gentle slope, whose feet bathe in
+the same stream, but whose tops are widely severed, stands the man who
+but an hour before had borne the ban of excommunication from the altar
+of God. Male figures, clad in black from head to foot, with pallid
+faces, and the flash of steel glittering in the moonlight, seem to have
+been awaiting his appearance, for when they perceive him, the reclining
+rise to their feet, the standing descend to the borders of the stream,
+banners are unfurled in the summer's night, but no huzzas break the
+silence. Seating himself upon a rock on the banks of the stream, he is
+himself the first to speak, his voice chiming time with the murmur of
+the waters, as the tones of the singer with the sounding harpstrings.
+His words, though low, reach the hearts of his companions:</p>
+
+<p>'Soldiers! for some time past I have been your leader, and I am sure you
+will not forget me. Treasure in your memories the last words I shall
+ever address to you, for in them is the old truth, firm as these rocks,
+holy as these stars. Our fathers owned this country for thousands of
+years; during all that time, exile, injustice, oppression were utterly
+unknown. Its children were numberless as the grains of wheat upon its
+plains, as the trees in its interminable forests, and the neighboring
+nations gathered for shelter under the shadow of their clustering
+sabres. What the ear now never hears, what the eye never sees, but what
+the soul of the brave never ceases to love, was their proud
+inheritance&mdash;FREEDOM! Then came, with his throngs of slaves, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[Pg 550]</a></span> King
+of the South.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> At first he spake with guileful gentleness, pouring out
+treacherous treasures of gold before us. Differing from us in faith and
+language, he strove to unite what God had severed, and when affairs
+moved not in accordance with his wishes, he tried to force himself upon
+us with fire and sword. Shame to the dwellers in cities and the lords of
+the valleys! fearing to face the dangers and hardships of life in the
+caves of the mountains, the wilds of the forests, they submitted to the
+usurper. But you have buried yourself in them as in graves, therefore
+the day of resurrection will dawn upon you. Already I see the signs of a
+brighter future. Has not the king's own residence been fired and
+consumed? Have we not heard the screams of joy of the vultures over the
+dead bodies of his minions, while the wolves howled in chorus the long
+night through? If you would regain the inheritance of our fathers, your
+labor must be long, your best blood flow. Especially now, when from
+wandering exiles you have grown into threatening heroes, will the king
+strive to deceive you by glittering baits: but beware of the tempters;
+their promises are mountains of gold, their performances handfuls of
+mud. Look up! There is room enough in these blue skies for brave souls!
+Regret not the earth, even should you fall in battle. Even on the other
+side of the grave may the face of God be forever dark to him who
+consents to lay down his arms while his country is in bondage!</p>
+
+<p>'Go not down into the plains to secure the golden grain; your guardian
+angel dwells in the mountains&mdash;the time is coming when you shall reap a
+full harvest of spoils. Hearken always to the voices of the Seven who
+appointed me your leader. Their arms are weary with age and heavy work,
+but wisdom reigns supreme over the ruins of their wornout bodies. Obey
+them. When they call upon you, defend them to the last; whom they shall
+appoint chief, follow in dauntless courage; conquer with him, as you
+have always conquered with me! Soldiers, another fate demands me now. No
+morrow dawns for me upon this earth. Brothers, I bid you farewell
+forever!'</p>
+
+<p>The summer moon shines brightly down upon the little band of heroes.
+They start to their feet, and, gliding silently from every direction,
+they assemble round their chief, twining about him in a gloomy circle.</p>
+
+<p>'Where art thou going, our brave chieftain?'</p>
+
+<p>Stretching out his arm, he points toward the flame which still throws a
+pale light over the plain.</p>
+
+<p>'Stay! It is the flame of the wedding festival glaring from the halls of
+thy ancestors. We will not suffer thee to go to those who would take thy
+life; to the maiden who has betrayed thee!'</p>
+
+<p>He starts suddenly from the rock; his shrill cry pierces the hearts of
+the warriors:</p>
+
+<p>'Malign her not with falsehood! She has not betrayed me. This very night
+she will be mine. We will rest together in the long sleep of eternity.
+Comrades, I have consecrated to you the house and riches of my fathers;
+life and bliss with the woman I love I have sacrificed on the altar of
+my country; but death with her I cannot relinquish&mdash;the moment is
+near&mdash;no time is to be lost&mdash;I go. Farewell!'</p>
+
+<p>He passes hurriedly through them; the long folds of his cloak, the locks
+of his hair, the plumes of his cap, stream wildly on the breeze. Cries
+rise on the midnight air; they kneel before him, they circle round him,
+they stand a living wall before him, they entreat him to stop, they
+threaten to storm the castle, to take it before the dawn of day, to
+seize the bride, and bear her safely to his arms.</p>
+
+<p>He stays his hurrying footsteps, and the eager men fall into respectful
+silence. His voice is heard, sounding sweet indeed, but firm and deep as
+they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[Pg 551]</a></span> have often heard it in the midst of battle-smoke and thunder:</p>
+
+<p>'I thank you from my heart; my brothers. But it cannot be! The clashing
+of our sabres must not wake the old man sleeping in the chambers of my
+forefathers. I grew up under the shadow of his hand. He first taught my
+lips to utter the holy word which names the land of our fathers; he
+planted in my soul the thirst for glory. Before our holy banners float
+again from the walls of his castle, I must sleep in death! Fate has
+inexorably decreed it. Once more, farewell!'</p>
+
+<p>He moves rapidly on, muttering to himself: 'What the priest of God has
+bound, man may not untie&mdash;it must be <i>cut</i> asunder!' Unconsciously
+drawing his sword, he raises it in the air, the glittering blade
+flashing like a meteor in the rays of the summer moon.</p>
+
+<p>In silence and with drooping heads the soldiers follow&mdash;they know that
+what he says will surely come to pass. Predictions of his approaching
+doom had long been current among them; he had himself warned them the
+hour of separation was near. Not by the sword of the near enemy, nor by
+the arrow of the distant one, was he fore-doomed to fall. Not slowly was
+he to fade away upon a bed of mortal sickness: his own dreams and
+foreign magic had announced to him another doom! The conspirators move
+silently and solemnly on behind him, as if following a corpse. He
+already seems to them a spirit. But when he commenced the ascent of the
+hill, the long plumes of his cap streaming through rocks and trees,
+appearing and disappearing as he clambers up, they rush into pursuit.
+Separated only by mossy banks and rocky terraces, they seek the same
+hilltop. He reaches it the first. Before him flashes upon his eyes a
+full view of the illuminated castle with its towers and battlemented
+turrets; at his feet lies the abyss, thundering with the roar of falling
+waters. An enormous pine has fallen over and bridges the chasm. His men
+are close upon him; again they try to surround him; pushing off the
+nearest, he leaps upon the trunk of the gigantic pine, crawls forward
+upon it, hangs for a moment over the abyss, reaches the other side,
+descends with marvellous agility, plants himself firmly on the ground,
+with feverish strength tears out the trunk from the rocks which had held
+it fast; it trembles for a moment as if swung in a balance; he urges,
+hurls it on, and at last it falls, crushing and shivering as it strikes
+heavily against the steep sides of the rocky chasm. The soldiers feel as
+if dazzled by a sudden flash of lightning, and when the glare passes, it
+is too late! In the light of the moon they see for the last time his
+broad brow in the full beauty of life&mdash;then the abyss separates them
+forever. Holding his hands out, suspended above the chasm, as if with
+his last breath he would bless his people, he cries:</p>
+
+<p>'In the name of God, heroes, eternal struggle between you and the King
+of the South!'</p>
+
+<p>The rocks echo the full tones of the manly voice, and the depths of the
+valley repeat it. His tall form disappears among the shadows of the
+pines. The conspirators listen as if hoping to catch one word more. No
+sound greets them save the sighing of the trees, the dash of the
+waters&mdash;the manly tones of their young hero they will hear no more
+forever!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Unfortunate! the glare of madness gleams in thine eyes. While thou wert
+exposed to the gaze of thy brothers thou struggledst to control thyself,
+because thou wouldst not their last memory of thee should be clouded;
+but now thou art alone, thou throwest off restraint, and, driven on by
+vengeance, hurriest forward. Thou startlest the owl as thou scalest the
+rocks; she flaps her wing, and gazes on thee with round eyes of wonder;
+the fox, baying in the moonlight, steals into the gloom; the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[Pg 552]</a></span> wolves
+howl in the ravine as thou rushest through&mdash;thou hearest not their
+cries, they fly before the wild splendor of thine eyes! Thou readiest
+the plain. Corpse-lights from the swamps flit on with thee; wildly
+laughing, thou criest: 'Race on with me, friends!' They dance round thy
+cap, and bathe thy breast with streams of pale, blue light; then, joined
+in brotherly embrace, for a moment ye speed together on; but the
+grave-lights are the first to die; then, a solitary shadow, thou
+flittest darkly over the meadows, and approachest the castle of thine
+ancestors.</p>
+
+<p>It shines with innumerable lights. The terraced gardens with their walks
+and perfumed shrubs lie so silently in the bright moonlight, they seem
+dreaming of the bridal bliss, the echo of the wedding music cradling
+them to sweeter sleep. The flying footsteps of the chieftain are
+suddenly arrested&mdash;he thinks he hears the opening chant of the
+bridesmaids' song, though so distant it seems rather dream than reality.
+He listens. He knows the ancient custom; he certainly hears the chorused
+strophes, the fresh, clear female voices, He rushes forward now, he
+buries his nails in the fissures of the walls, he clambers up,
+suspending himself in the air, his feet cling to the moss-grown stones,
+he seizes a vine, swings himself forward, gains the top of the wall, and
+the crushed grasses groan as he leaps down upon them. Having touched the
+earth within the enclosure, he rises up with triple power, and bounds
+into the leafy labyrinth. Oaks, ashes, pines, and firs, the remains of
+the great forest, are around him. Thickets, vineyards, and meadows lie
+in the moonlight, brooks and fountains murmur, nightingales sing; he
+reaches the trailing willows where the long branches droop into the blue
+waters of the lake, from whose depths the stars of heaven smile upon
+him. He had played under these trees as a happy boy, swum in these clear
+waves&mdash;but the memories of the past must not detain him now. He reaches
+the bower where the jessamines bloom at the foot of the lower terrace.
+This was the spot in which the maiden had revealed her soul to her
+exiled brother; here had her holy promise kindled her blue eyes, and the
+high resolve of its keeping rested on her pure brow;&mdash;he groans aloud,
+but stops not, keeping his face steadily turned to the gray wall of the
+castle. Certain of his course, whether in light or shadow, he still
+hurries on. Winding among orange trees and fountains, he enters the
+vaulted archway which leads to the castle. Ascending with every step, he
+stands at last upon a level with its pillared portico. Taking the long
+plume from his cap, he glides from beneath the vault of the archway. No
+one is near. Songs and shouts are on his left; there then must be the
+hall of festival. Silence reigns on his right, and the long ranges of
+windows glitter only with the light of the moon. At the end of the long
+gallery and near the angle of the western tower, lamps are still
+burning; a wide glass door stands partly open&mdash;it seems to him he hears
+a low moan, but so light, so inaudible, it is caught through the
+divining of the soul rather than by the hearing of the ear. But he has
+heard it. Leaving the shadow of the vaulted passage, he emerges into the
+light, like one rising from the dead; imploring his steps not to betray
+him, and supporting himself on balustrades and pillars, he glides on. As
+he approaches the half-open door, he sees the long veils of the windows
+floating like snow-wreaths in the air; behind these thin curtains he
+feels that Life and Death, hand clasped in hand, await him. He falters,
+stops, presses his hand on his heart, but his fingers encounter the cold
+steel of his sword; he grasps it firmly, approaches, leans his forehead
+on the panes of the wide gothic door&mdash;strange that the throbbing brain
+burst not its narrow bounds!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>He sees nothing at first but fiery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[Pg 553]</a></span> sparks and black spots from the
+seething of his heated brain. The long muslin draperies are sometimes
+lifted by the wind, and again close their veils of mist; the silver lamp
+flashes on his eyes for a moment, and again vanishes from his view; but,
+as his sight grows clearer, the great mirror with its frame of gold
+stands before him&mdash;necklaces, bracelets, and chains flash from the
+toilet before it. He trembles no longer, he ceases to make the sign of
+the cross, he sees distinctly now&mdash;under the floating flow of purple
+drapery the bride is sitting on the bed alone. The flowers thrown over
+her by the choir of singing bridesmaids still cluster on her hair and
+breast; her little feet are almost buried in the fallen rose leaves. She
+sighs as if utterly unconscious of herself, thoughtless of the pain she
+suffers&mdash;as if her life were only anguish! The flowers droop from her
+bosom and glide to the ground; and, as the violets, myrtles, and lilies
+fall over her dress of snow, the great tears roll slowly down her pallid
+cheeks with every deep-drawn sigh.</p>
+
+<p>The door creaks on its hinges, her arms are thrown up involuntarily, her
+neck is outstretched, like that of a frightened deer startled by the
+baying of the hounds. She listens, waits, hears something move, starts
+up, and flies into the depths of the chamber, seizes the floating
+curtains, wraps herself in the folds, unwinds them from about her, flies
+on, turns, starts, stops, then suddenly falling on her knees, cries
+aloud: '<span class="smcap">Thou</span>!' Her last hope is in that word, but all strength fails her
+now, and she stands fixed to the spot with rigid face and form of
+marble. Steps and voices, which had been heard a moment before, die away
+in the distance. He whom she had so passionately invoked stands before
+her; he presses her not to his heart, but she hears the whisper: '<span class="smcap">I am
+here</span>!'</p>
+
+<p>She blooms into new life, and with a melancholy smile of wondrous
+sweetness, murmurs:</p>
+
+<p>'I knew, I knew thou wouldst be with me in this solemn hour. Dost thou
+curse me in thy heart? But hear me: no one approaches, we are alone, I
+may yet have time to tell thee all. When they led me to the church, I
+sought thee everywhere; when I kneeled before the altar, I could only
+seek thee with my soul, my eyes were too dim with tears for sight; and
+when, on my return to the castle&mdash;they felicitated me, I listened for
+thy voice to thunder o'er them all! And even here, where each moment was
+freighted with coming shame and anguish, my faith never left me. I sat
+in utter torpor, but my soul saw thee in thy flight across the distant
+hills, my heart felt thee as thou camest through the gardens and up the
+terraced way. What I divined is true, Give me thy hand&mdash;I am saved!
+saved!'</p>
+
+<p>Gracefully as the light sprays of the willow, she sways toward him, and
+trustfully leans on his strong arm.</p>
+
+<p>Who has ever felt in dreams his soul torn from hell, and borne by angels
+into heaven? Who has ever known what it was to be God's own child for a
+fleeting moment&mdash;felt the lightning flash of heaven-bliss gleam through
+his heart? He had expected to meet one faithless to her vows; but as the
+voice of simple truth and love thrills through his innermost being, he
+grows omnipotent, immortal. His youth only begins from this hour! it
+soars aloft&mdash;one wing is love, the other glory; his ashes shall be
+worthy to mingle with those of his fathers! He will return to his
+deserted comrades, and she, the beloved, will follow him, for does not
+she, now clinging in holy trust to his arm, seem willing to give into
+his hands the whole web of her future destiny? Its threads shall be of
+gold, and the sun of love shall shine ever upon it. Weave the brilliant
+mist in glittering woof, O glowing imagination of youth I Beautiful
+cloud-dreams, which the setting sun of life paints and flushes with his
+dying rays!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[Pg 554]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But suddenly awaking from his fevered visions, he cries: 'Why hast thou
+set this ring on thy finger? Would it not have been far better to have
+sought refuge in the mountains, than to have bound thyself to another by
+the holy sacrament of marriage? Yet will I save thee, for my comrades
+are brave and obedient, and I am their leader!'</p>
+
+<p>'O God! thou questionest me about the Past, when not a single hour of
+the Present is our own! Dost thou still doubt me? Dost thou not
+comprehend me? I have plighted my troth to thee in truth, have sworn
+that thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. I will keep my
+vow. Thou doubtest me, and must hear all. Interrupt me not. Unsheathe
+thy sword; if they approach, I will throw myself into thy arms. When the
+time came to tell my father all, to bid him the last good by, he begged
+me sore, entreated me with many tears. Thou knowest with what a stern
+voice he is wont to command, how instantaneously he is accustomed to be
+obeyed; but he veiled the thunders of his wrath with tears, he sighed
+and wailed, saying that his only child was armed to strike him to the
+heart, to thrust him into the grave. The prince, the son-in-law of his
+choice, promised to take our name; he brought his serfs and retainers in
+crowds to the castle, and said to the old man: 'Lo, they shall all be
+thine!' Kneeling before me, my father placed my hand upon his silver
+hair; I felt the blood bounding and throbbing in his bare temples, and
+on his grand old forehead lay the dream of his whole life gasping in its
+death agonies. The cruel phantom of dominion and power, hateful to me,
+clutched me through the heart of the only parent I have ever known. His
+life or death was in my hands. A divine power swayed my soul; I resolved
+upon self-sacrifice. Consent quivered from my shrinking lips&mdash;I gave my
+trembling hand to the unknown, unloved, insupportable. Alas! all are
+alike abhorrent to me who speak not with thy voice, look not with thy
+eyes, breathe not with thy breath, love not with thy soul! The lord of
+the castle has now a son in place of his slight girl, and thousands of
+warriors stand ready to defend the old Home of our haughty race. Thus am
+I free, now may I take leave of all. Again I pledge to thee my faith;
+thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. But this people, this
+God, this plighted faith&mdash;knowest thou by what name it is called
+to-day?'</p>
+
+<p>The chieftain throws his arm round her slight form, and looking
+anxiously toward the gallery, says: 'Speak and tell me while it is yet
+time.'</p>
+
+<p>With low, reproachful tone, she answers: 'Can it be possible that thou
+dost not know? And yet there is no room for doubt&mdash;it is <span class="smcap">Death</span>! So long
+as I remain on earth, I am the wife of the foreigner. Thou canst regain
+me only in the land of spirits; but the way is short&mdash;look! it is only
+the length of thy sword!'</p>
+
+<p>The word 'wife' falls from the soft lips like a stone on the heart of
+the chief, awakening him from the last dream he will ever dream on this
+earth. Yes. His sword would protect her from the pursuit of father and
+husband, but he cannot save her from the condemnation of the church, its
+excommunication; for what the priest of God has bound, that man may not
+unloose! It grows cold and dark in his sinking heart. A single moment of
+happiness, alas, now forever past! has robbed him of strength, of hope;
+he shivers with awe; he sees the long skeleton finger of the pale
+Phantom of Terror touch the young heart of the faithful maiden. But
+<i>that</i> will be impossible&mdash;he cannot take her life&mdash;he will fly, and
+fall on the morrow with his braves in battle&mdash;she shall live&mdash;the
+loveliest of human forms shall still remain on earth. He groans, and
+breaks away from her&mdash;the walls seem crumbling before him, breaking into
+tears of blood&mdash;he flies&mdash;but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[Pg 555]</a></span> his sister overtakes him at the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>'Where dost thou fly, unfaithful? Didst thou not come to release me?
+Wouldst thou brand me with dishonor&mdash;with infamy and shame? Betray me
+not. O God! canst thou think of deserting me now! Listen! The foreigner
+is already on his way to sully with his hot and pestilential breath the
+purity of thy beloved. And what would be my future fate shouldst thou
+deliver me into the hands of mine enemy, to his hated embraces? He will
+force me to the court of the King of the South. I must there bear my
+part amid strange faces, surrounded by falsehood and pride, and learn to
+smile on those I loathe. He will lead me to the court that he may boast
+of my beauty, that he may show his king he has gathered the pale flower
+of the ancient House. And what will be the course of the king, what that
+of the prince, my husband? Look at the old, and learn! They curse in old
+age what they worshipped in youth; they love what they once scorned.
+What has thus transformed them? Time. Time, the murderer, who in his
+reckless culture plants fresh roses on the ruined wall, will draw and
+thicken the veil of delusion over my face until my true features shall
+be stifled behind it. I shall be utterly alone&mdash;alone forever! Thou wilt
+be afar, on the mountains, rocks, or in the deserts; temptation will
+surround me, and disgust possess my soul. Thou mayst be brought in
+chains to the land of the King of the South, thine enemies may name me
+there over their beaded cups of ruby wine, jeers and scandals may reach
+thine ears, and thou wilt curse thyself that thou didst not kill me!
+Thrust thy sword into my heart! Tear me from the grasp of the monster!'</p>
+
+<p>As if in sudden madness, she wildly stretches out her hands as if to
+push away the thronging phantoms which appal her.</p>
+
+<p>'Look! his forehead sparkles&mdash;a word is written there in blazing
+diamonds&mdash;read it&mdash;it is <span class="smcap">INFAMY</span>! Hell glitters in his eyes; his writhing
+arms are hissing vipers; they crawl to me, they touch me, wind around
+me, bury their heads in my bosom, and poison as they drink my pure blood
+from the virginal cup of my heart!'</p>
+
+<p>She falls exhausted on the floor, washing his feet with her tears as her
+long tresses stream around them.</p>
+
+<p>He lifts her like a feather from the ground.</p>
+
+<p>'By the Holy Mother of our Lord, such fate shall not be thine! Like the
+flame of incense burning on the sacred altar, purest among the pure,
+thou shalt ascend to God!'</p>
+
+<p>His heart breaks, his manly features flicker and quiver like the mist;
+strange spasms distort them; he bows his head in anguish, and with every
+tear from her eyes mingle the bitter drops only shed by man.</p>
+
+<p>But this is over now. It was the last sign of weakness, hesitation,
+regret, wrung from him in his mortal agony. A solemn calm rests on his
+broad brow as he presses the maiden to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>'With this kiss of peace I consecrate thee to a holy death! He who first
+breathed upon thy young cheek, first touched thy rosy lip, who may not
+give thee his name in the sanctity of marriage, who cannot save thee
+from condemnation&mdash;will give thee <span class="smcap">DEATH</span>! In this thought I sought thee,
+my sister; but when I found thee faithful, loving, a sudden dream of
+bliss deceived me. Lulled by lovely visions, the weak one yielded to
+unmanly hopes, unmanly fears! Forgive him, virgin hero! Temptation and
+fear have fled forever&mdash;we will die together&mdash;let us pray!'</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>'Let us pray! but thou must remain to lead thy people. Longing, but
+patient, I will await thee in Hades. Thou wilt often come to the spot in
+which they will bury me, to throw a plume from thy helmet, a ring from
+thy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[Pg 556]</a></span> coat of mail upon the grassy mound. And the old grave-digger will
+say: '<i>He</i> was here to-night; she is still remembered by the chieftain.'</p>
+
+<p>With pure, confiding glance she reads his soul; her eyes sparkle through
+the mist of tears, and a faint smile writhes her pale young lips. With
+iron grasp he holds her to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>'With my <i>soul</i> I wed thy <i>soul</i> before the Great White Throne of God,
+our Judge!'</p>
+
+<p>In softer, sadder tone, he adds: 'While in my power, I served our people
+with my whole might. I have raised our white eagle on the castles of our
+enemies. To morrow my comrades will pass these walls&mdash;ah! thou dost not
+know, had I lived another day, whose gray hairs might have been
+scattered in the coming whirlwind, or in whose courts I might have been
+forced to take my seat as avenger! We will go hence together, my sister.
+And where we go, the old men will not desert their country, the young
+men will not be forced to dishonor the gray hairs of those who first
+taught them the meaning of patriotism and honor; <i>there</i> treason and
+oppression are unknown&mdash;there will be no <i>necessary vengeance</i> in the
+Land of the Hereafter! Let us go, sister!'</p>
+
+<p>Transfigured by a sublime exultation, she throws herself into the arms
+of the chieftain; words and tears are no longer sufficient to thank him;
+but love has taught her how it may be done. Suddenly drawing from her
+finger the glittering ring of the enemy, she moves rapidly to the head
+of the bridal bed, and places it upon the rich embroidery of the laced
+pillows. Then returning to the chief, she presses his hand to her heart:</p>
+
+<p>'Earth is past, and Heaven begun. Thou art henceforth my lord and master
+forever!'</p>
+
+<p>She kneels at his side, and begins to recite the prayers for the dying.
+He kneels beside her, sometimes reciting with her, sometimes wrapt in
+solemn silence. After a few moments, he breaks upon her prayers:</p>
+
+<p>'The morning twilight is upon us.'</p>
+
+<p>As he speaks, the little birds awake; their matin song sounds from the
+well-known grove.</p>
+
+<p>'Lean on my arm, beloved; let us look once more upon the earth we leave
+so soon together!'</p>
+
+<p>She leans heavily upon his arm, and they stand on the threshold of the
+door opening upon the gallery.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The fading moon dies out beyond the mountains; her last rays fall upon
+the turf of the terraced gardens; long wreaths of mist and vapor rise in
+the air like bridal veils, floating and reddening in the early dawn. In
+this fatal moment the luring promises and lovely images of life stand
+before her. The murmurs of the lulling fountains fall upon her ear, then
+flash upon her eye; the shafts and groups of pillars of her ancestral
+home cluster around her, and the summer flowers greet her with their
+perfume. But death, not life, is in her heart. The pathway through the
+old forest whitens in the coming light, the grain waves in the open
+fields; beyond them, faintly flushing in the twilight, stand the
+mountain tops above which <i>his</i> star of glory might have risen that very
+morn&mdash;and yet the whole horizon to him now is but the grave of eternal
+forgetfulness! He gazes far into the mountains, boldly sending his last
+greetings to the faithful there; while she, with drooping head, presses
+ever closer to him, asking from him now the look of love, now the thrust
+of death! In vain the gradual awaking of the world admonishes them more
+and more loudly that they have nothing more to do with time, that
+eternity is upon them&mdash;they linger still! Who may say what thoughts are
+thronging through their souls! More and more heavily she sinks upon the
+true heart of her brother, while the morning breeze plays with the long
+tresses of her golden hair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[Pg 557]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hark! loud voices pledge a noisy health in one of the distant rooms&mdash;he
+shudders, but perhaps she hears no longer; heavy footsteps tramp along
+the gallery&mdash;the light of torches flickers in the morning breeze.</p>
+
+<p>'O God, thou wilt surely give the victory to my country!' cries the
+chieftain, as he carries the benumbed and half-lifeless form of the
+bride within the wedding chamber.</p>
+
+<p>The drunken companions of the long revel reel and totter along the
+galleries of the castle; the bridegroom hastens to his bride with the
+dawn of day.</p>
+
+<p>'Look!' she exclaims, stretching out her hands to the great mirror
+before which they stand, but in her bewilderment no longer recognizing
+her own figure there: 'Look! how beautiful my angel is!'</p>
+
+<p>'Ah, too beautiful!' the youth repeats, with a bitter groan; then,
+pressing her to his breast with one arm, from the other flashes the
+deadly gleam of glittering steel&mdash;and in that very moment the heavy
+footsteps of the light-minded, reckless bridegroom reach the threshold
+of the bridal chamber.</p>
+
+
+
+<h4><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h4>
+
+
+<p>The old man sits upon the ancient bed of state, in the room which had
+been occupied by his father before him, in which his grandfathers and
+great-grandfathers had lived and died. Careless of repose for his tired
+and aged body, he has not undressed, but motioning off his attendants
+with impatient gesture, ungirding his sabre, and throwing off the chain
+of gold to which the royal medal was attached, his head sinks weariedly
+and sadly upon the oaken table before him. Beyond the bedstead, a gothic
+archway vaults through the wall into his private chapel, the antique
+lamp of gold still burns upon its altar. He turns not there, as is his
+custom, to say his prayers before he goes to rest&mdash;he knows no sleep
+to-night will close his heavy eyelids. Raising his head, he looks slowly
+round at the pictures of his ancestors hung about him; with their fixed,
+immovable pupils they return his gaze; but when he would again run round
+the circle of the faces of the dead, his eyelids fall, his sight is
+veiled by swimming tears.</p>
+
+<p>Have you ever thought, young men, sons of the growing light and lovers
+of the storm, how it must be in the souls of the old when all their
+plans of life fail, when their <i>last</i> loves on earth are blighted? Ah,
+you cannot imagine this, you have not yet tasted the bitter gall of age!
+Willing slaves, Time bears you forward on his mighty wings, cleaving
+space with arrowy, unceasing motion, and though the stars die out behind
+you as he bears you on, yet new ones ever burst upon you as you advance.</p>
+
+<p>'On! on! the infinite is before us!' you cry as you fly. <i>But the old
+have no to-morrows!</i> the coffin lies across their threshold, and but one
+single star shines down upon them. They kneel to it, and pray: 'Thou art
+pure and steadfast. Thou fallest not like the meteor bursting in the
+warm summer sky, nor settest like the moon in the far-off lakes of
+youth. After our long and restless journey, we bask in thy serene light.
+Be faithful to us, shine benignly upon us, that our House may live, that
+our descendants may enjoy the earth!'</p>
+
+<p>But even while they pray, the <i>truth</i> creeps into their courtyards,
+glides like a serpent on their castle walls, writhes over the threshold,
+and, seating herself upon a coffin, chants the death song of delusion,
+and as she sings, the last star falls from the sky, and eternal night
+becomes the name of the world.</p>
+
+<p>Behold! No glittering haze or golden woof remains in the hands of the
+old man from the dying glow of his long Indian summer. Hearken! his
+daughter's tears are falling fast on the burning embers of his soul. The
+laughter of the careless husband blasts his ear. He starts from the bed,
+stalking up and down the room with rapid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[Pg 558]</a></span> strides. The snows of seventy
+winters have in vain blanched his head; he has been proud of his
+accumulated wisdom, but has not divined the secret of life! The
+whirlpool of terror, vengeance, vacillation, resolution, engulfs him in
+its giddy flow; his soul is on the wheel of torture, his old heart
+throbs on the rack of passion. He curses the King of the South&mdash;the
+prince, his son-in-law&mdash;himself; but his heart will not break until a
+new day dawns upon the earth!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Completely worn out at last with his restless striding to and fro, he
+falls into the old state chair with its broidered blazonry and gilt
+escutcheons. His arms hang loosely at his side, his legs fall listlessly
+down, his wide open eye is fixed unconsciously on the opposite wall; his
+lips are motionless, and yet the tones of his own voice are ringing
+through his ears; he lies in immovable and rigid torpor, and yet it
+seems to himself that he is rapidly traversing the long galleries of the
+castle. He enters the hall of feasting, sees the prince seated among the
+throng of revellers, to whom he hears himself cry: 'Away! away, prince,
+from an alien soil! My ancestors have risen from the grave to drive thee
+hence! Black hetman man, long since buried, strike the foaming cup from
+his reckless hands! Roman cardinal, dying in sanctity, pronounce upon
+him the thunders of excommunication, and let the church divorce him from
+the daughter of our line!'</p>
+
+<p>The great doors are thrown open, the muffled steps of the dead are heard
+as they advance from their graves in the Chapel of the Castle, and the
+spirits evoked glide solemnly in. The bridegroom, seizing his sword with
+one hand, and lifting the cup to his lips with the other, drinks gayly
+to the health of the illustrious dead! The old man looks round for a
+sword, strives to reach the bright blade hanging on the distant wall,
+prays to God to help him to grasp it more speedily, falls to the floor,
+drags himself forward on his knees until he meets the Roman cardinal,
+whose scarlet robes are bleached and dim with the damp, mould, and
+stains of the grave. The church dignitary, laying his icy hand upon his
+forehead, says:</p>
+
+<p>'<i>What the holy priest of God has joined together, that may man not put
+asunder!</i>'</p>
+
+<p>The dead vanish, the hall of festival is riven in twain, the walls
+crumble, he sees himself again in his own chamber, sleeping in the
+escutcheoned chair of his ancestors. Silence, horror, and remorse are
+around him&mdash;and at this moment the great clock of the palatines strikes
+two!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Horrible and still more horrible grows the vision. The lamp is still
+burning in bluish flame, sending a mystic light through the vaulted
+archway of the chapel beyond the state bed. 0 God! a white figure kneels
+and groans upon the steps of the altar, then, drawing back, approaches
+his chair; her bands are meekly crossed upon her breast; like the marble
+drapery of a statue, her robe falls in countless snowy folds, none of
+which are broken in the onward-gliding motion of the shrouded form. O
+God! he knows that lovely face, he has loved it well; it is the sweet
+countenance of his young wife: the lips open, but the voice is not as of
+old, tender and confiding; it is reproachful&mdash;commanding. He tries to
+answer, but cannot force a word through his eager lips; he cannot
+stretch forth his hand to greet her, but feels himself forced to follow
+her wheresoever she may choose to lead him. Down, down through the dark
+and narrow vaults of the castle, through the sepulchre where she was
+buried, passing by her own coffin without stopping, up through the old
+armory, through coats of mail, helmets, and swords, on&mdash;on&mdash;she reaches
+the western tower&mdash;passes through the treasury&mdash;ascends the
+staircase&mdash;bolts draw, and locked doors, like silent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[Pg 559]</a></span> lips, open
+noiselessly before. She beckons the old man on&mdash;on, to the arched door,
+up to the loophole in the wall looking into the bridal chamber of the
+ladies of the castle&mdash;there the dead form stops, and beckons him to draw
+near and look within.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>O God! close by the wedding bed and before the great mirror, he sees his
+daughter in the arms of an armed man; he knows the flashing eye and
+broad brow of the exile; he hears her familiar voice, sweet, sonorous,
+and penetrating as the tones of the harmonica. A glittering blade is in
+the hand of the man; his daughter speaks in clear, full tones:</p>
+
+<p>'Strike! strike boldly! it is not thou who dealest the blow&mdash;my father
+has already killed me!' She rises to meet the stroke of the keen steel
+of the chieftain, as if she welcomed a deliverer. The old man tries to
+tear asunder the loophole with his hands, but the cold granite does not
+move&mdash;then it seems to him he falls upon his knees, and shouts to his
+kinsman:</p>
+
+<p>'Stop thy rash hand! I will give her to thee as wife. I will fight with
+thee the King of the South; do not kill her, my good daughter, my only
+child!'</p>
+
+<p>They hear him not; a darkish light is creeping along the walls, the
+lamps are dying out, loud talking is heard on the gallery, the
+half-drunken bridegroom comes leaping and reeling on, rushes into the
+chamber, suddenly seems transfixed to the floor, puts his hand to his
+sword, but not finding it at his side, looks back, calls aloud, but no
+one follows him. Horror, like living death, paralyzes the old man. The
+bridegroom throws himself upon the exile, who exclaims solemnly, as he
+thrusts him aside:</p>
+
+<p>'Why do you profane the peace of the dead?'</p>
+
+<p>Something glitters&mdash;flashes through the air&mdash;once&mdash;twice&mdash;thrice&mdash;a
+faint cry&mdash;the lamps die out one after the other&mdash;a single one still
+burns over the great mirror, and by its flickering light the old man
+sees the figures of the armed man and the snowy maiden, drenched in
+gore, reel, totter, heave, whirl in strange confusion&mdash;grow to enormous
+height, mount, sink, fall. At this very moment the great clock of the
+palatines strikes three&mdash;and awakes the old man in the sleeping chamber
+of his ancestors, stretched at the foot of the escutcheoned chair.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>His attendants, hearing a noise, throng into his room with hurrying
+steps and flaming torches; they find their lord lying prostrate on the
+floor with bleeding hands and agitated air. He starts to his feet,
+crying:</p>
+
+<p>'Save my child! Kill my brother's son!' They crowd around him. 'Is it
+still night, or does the day <i>really</i> dawn?'</p>
+
+<p>He staggers to the oaken table, seizes his sword, draws it from the
+sheath; the handle turns in his trembling hands, the blade falls to the
+ground; again he grasps it, while great tears rain down from his haggard
+eyes. The attendants cluster round him, kneel before him, and entreat
+him to tell them clearly what he would have them do.</p>
+
+<p>'Follow me! follow me!' he pants in broken voice. He hurries to the
+door, half borne on by his people; passes along the corridor, wrestling
+with faintness and giddiness as a strong swimmer battles with the waves.
+The attendants gaze from one to the other, making the sign of the cross.</p>
+
+<p>The swooning and delirium of the old man over, the retainers follow him
+as he totters on to the wedding chamber. Profound repose seems to rest
+upon the castle; through the wide range of open double doors the grand
+saloon of festival is clearly seen; the tables are deserted, and the
+lights dying in their sockets. The morning twilight is already stealing
+in through the open windows. Strange! the pages bearing the torches
+before the old lord come to a sudden halt; a man runs to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[Pg 560]</a></span>ward them round
+the sharp angle of the gallery; his hair is in confusion, his robe
+soiled and torn; no dagger in his belt nor sword at his side; his lips
+are blue and shivering, his brow pallid; he looks as if Death were
+breathing on him as he passed, and he fled in terror from the fleshless
+phantom.</p>
+
+<p>'The father must not advance another step;' and stretching his arms
+toward the old man, he seizes one of his hands.</p>
+
+<p>'Where is thy wife? Speak, and tell me!'</p>
+
+<p>The bridegroom kneels before him: 'Stop, father; go back to thine own
+chamber; waken not thy sleeping daughter so early.'</p>
+
+<p>'Thou sayest: 'Awake her not.' Will she <i>ever</i> again waken? Speak
+quickly. Tell me the naked truth, for evil spirits filled my sleep with
+dreams of terror. I saw her pleading for death, but thou wast unarmed as
+now; and another stood near, who murdered the child I gave thee. Speak!
+Was this all a horrid dream, a fearful jest of the summer's night to
+appal my soul?'</p>
+
+<p>The bridegroom bows his head under the unendurable weight of this
+question. He shudders, and with lifted hand tries to turn the old man
+back.</p>
+
+<p>'Ha! thou darest not speak&mdash;thou art silent, I know it all now. God
+punishes me because I have bowed to thy king, and sought alliance with
+thy craven blood, alien as thou art!'</p>
+
+<p>The window panes rattle as the wild cry echoes from the old man's
+quivering lips; all present tremble at the voice of his despair. He
+seizes his sword with both his hands, and while it trembles in his
+grasp, continues:</p>
+
+<p>'Art thou still silent? My fathers were the enemies of thine; had I a
+son, he would have been thy deadly foe. I had an only daughter&mdash;I gave
+her to thee&mdash;she too is gone&mdash;take all&mdash;there is no one to care for
+now&mdash;the inheritance is also thine.'</p>
+
+<p>The sword rattles in his hands, the blade falls from his grasp, as he
+strikes it against the pillar near him. The bridegroom starts forward
+and endeavors to stay the old man. The old man pushes him off, they
+wrestle in their bewilderment, and struggle like wild beasts. Despair
+nerves the aged arms with iron strength. Young and agile as he is, the
+bridegroom feels the hands of his adversary pressing heavily upon his
+shoulders, he bends under the weight, the old man hurls him to the
+ground, and, no longer requiring aid from others, strides over the
+prostrate body. He stalks on with flashing, burning eyes, his gigantic
+shadow striding with him on the wall, his wide robes floating on the
+wind, his white hair streaming, his form winged with the courage of
+despair. The retainers follow, the vaulted ceilings echoing back the
+sharp gride of their footsteps. Only one lighted saloon now lies between
+them and the chamber of the ladies of the castle. The double door at the
+other end is thrown wide open, the walls and windows of the wedding
+chamber are crimsoning with the early hues of day, silence and solitude
+pervade them, nothing falls upon the air save the twitter of the birds
+and the murmur of the fountains. The old man rushes on directly to the
+open door and toward the reddening east.</p>
+
+<p>He reaches the threshold, and the immense red face of the just risen sun
+dazzles his eyes. Is it the bloody Heart of God he sees pulsating
+through the universe? Blinded for a moment, he staggers on at random,
+when suddenly he sees the floor is red with blood. The dreadful phantoms
+of the night are again around him, no longer floating in misty visions,
+but glaring fixed before him in the stern light of dread reality. In the
+fierce blaze of its pitiless rays, he sees the dead body of his
+brother's son; the bloody form of his only child, his good daughter,
+lies pale at his feet. Like a drowning man he gasps for breath, beats
+the air wildly around him, as if trying to rescue himself from this hell
+of spectres. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[Pg 561]</a></span> he stands motionless, as if transfixed to the spot.
+Awakened by the noise and rumor, guests, feudal retainers, servants, and
+attendants rush to the spot, each in turn to be terror-stricken at the
+threshold, to move within awed and silent. All eyes wander from the old
+lord of the castle to the stiffening corpses at his feet. They lie
+together now! The left arm of the exile is round the neck of his sister;
+her head rests on his armed bosom just above the spot where the sword
+still remains plunged in his breast; his right hand has fallen beside
+it. There was no one near to close their dying eyelids, the pupils
+glitter glassily in the whitening light of the ascending sun, and the
+blood which is everywhere around, on the bridal bed, on the coat of mail
+of the young chieftain, on the white robes and snowy bosom of the bride,
+already congeals into dark pools or crimson corals. Above this cooling
+stream their features rest in marble peace&mdash;a faint smile is on the lips
+of the young bride&mdash;while a passing thought of warlike glory still beams
+from the broad, pallid brow of the young hero. So tranquil their repose,
+the agonies of death must have seemed light to them, lost in the
+ecstasies of faithful spirits.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The old man continues to stand as he first stood&mdash;no groan escapes his
+lips, no shuddering shakes his frame. The new comers press those already
+present forward, but all breaths are hushed, hands are fixed steadily on
+sword hilts that they may not rattle, all sound is stilled&mdash;they stand
+in awe of that dreadful moment when their lord shall awake from his
+torpor, and turn to them his face of woe. How will they bear the anguish
+written there? despair without a ray of hope!</p>
+
+<p>O God! what a miracle! He turns toward them, greets them imperiously but
+courteously, as was his wont, as if, absorbed in thought and doubtful of
+the dire reality before him, he was trying to ascertain its truth. Fever
+burns in his eye and flames upon his wrinkled cheek.</p>
+
+<p>'Hungarian wine!' he cries.' I will drink to the health of my fellow
+citizens.'</p>
+
+<p>No one moves, the bystanders seem turning to stone.</p>
+
+<p>'Haste! This blood must be washed away before my daughter returns to her
+chamber. Haste, I say!'</p>
+
+<p>None move, all eyes are cast down; they cannot bear the strange light in
+his wandering glances.</p>
+
+<p>'Ah! do you not know we are all dreaming? My sleep is torpid, stubborn,
+accursed, but the dawn is here, and I must soon awake!'</p>
+
+<p>So saying he moves out upon the gallery, where suddenly a new thought
+appears to strike him; he leans over the marble balustrade, looks to the
+right and left, then exclaims:</p>
+
+<p>'Guests, we will go out to seek the young betrothed; it is strange they
+should have gone out to walk so early!'</p>
+
+<p>He descends the vaulted stairway by which his nephew had ascended but a
+short time before. He stoops at the foot of the hill, picks some roses,
+murmuring:</p>
+
+<p>'For my good child. Move silently, friends, she loved this bower of
+jessamines; we will surprise her here, and be the first to say good
+morning to the bride.'</p>
+
+<p>With drooping heads his guests follow his steps as he glides along under
+the sad firs and stately pines. Pathways stretch before them, leading
+into forest depths and over mossy banks, or climbing hillsides laden
+with vines. The old man often calls his daughter loudly by her name; the
+laughing echoes answer mockingly; the followers burst into tears.
+Striking his forehead suddenly and violently with his hands, he cries:</p>
+
+<p>'The dream! the nightmare! Why should it look to me so like truth? When
+will the <i>true</i> sun rise upon me?' Then he rushes to a sturdy pine,
+embraces its rough trunk with both his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[Pg 562]</a></span> arms, strikes his head against
+it: 'Awake me, thou hard bark&mdash;awake me from this dreadful dream!'
+Turning back, he seizes one of the nearest of his followers by the
+throat, crying: 'Wrestle with thy lord, thou phantom of a servant, and
+wake him from his dream accursed!'</p>
+
+<p>The frightened servant slips away and flees. The old man sighs, raises
+his eyes to heaven, an expression of submission to a divinely appointed
+torment shines for a moment upon his quivering features, as if he humbly
+offered to God the tortures of this cruel dream in penance for his sins.
+He walks on calmly for a while, then says:</p>
+
+<p>'The bride is certainly on the lake; we will find her there.'</p>
+
+<p>The sun is fully up now, drinking the dews from the leaves, and lighting
+up the waves of the lake with splendor. Large beaked boats with heraldic
+banners are rocking in the coves. Fastening the roses he had gathered
+for his child in his bosom, he walks to the shore, with fever burning
+more and more vividly in his face. No one ventures to suggest a return
+to the castle. Accustomed to obey the unbending will of their lord, they
+still pay homage to it, though it is no longer a thing of this world.
+Dark as midnight seems the day dawn to them; their own brains seem
+seething into madness.</p>
+
+<p>'Perhaps she sails in one of her own light boats round the lake with her
+husband; she may be behind the fringe of willows, or among the little
+islands. Hallo! six of you take the oars; we will soon find her.'</p>
+
+<p>They obey, he seats himself within, they push from shore.</p>
+
+<p>'Why do you breathe so hard and look so weary to-day; is the water
+heavier than of old?'</p>
+
+<p>They answer not, but row more rapidly. The larger boats are filled with
+guests and retainers; many follow the old lord, many remain on shore
+from lack of room. One after another the islets fly behind and hide
+themselves from view, with their circling wreaths of reeds and sedges.
+Rocks and bowlders are scattered over many of them, once sacrificial
+altars of old and cruel gods, now draped with hanging weeds and trailing
+mosses. Flocks of wild birds are startled up as the boats draw near
+them, frightened by the noise and plashing of the oars. Black clouds of
+them hang over the boat of the old man at every turn among the labyrinth
+of islands. He claps his hands:</p>
+
+<p>'Here! we will surely find her here!' And when nothing is there to be
+seen, he asks the winds: 'Where is my child&mdash;my good and beautiful
+child?'</p>
+
+<p>Having sailed round and round the whole group of islands, he orders them
+to row out into the middle of the lake, and then make for the other
+shore. He sinks into silence now; he leaves the helm, throwing himself
+suddenly down into the boat, while a ghastly pallor settles on his
+venerable face. He stretches his hand into the water, dives into it with
+his arm, listens to the rippling of the waves, then bursts into a loud
+scream of wild laughter. The oarsmen stop, in hopes he will order the
+boat to return to shore. He does not speak, but rises up and looks,
+first back at the boats following after, then at the mountains, the
+plains, the forests, the gardens, the ancestral castle. Constantly
+striking his palms together or rubbing his head with his hand, he
+exclaims:</p>
+
+<p>'Who will waken me? I dream! I dream! I must, I will awake!'</p>
+
+<p>The oarsmen shudder. Then, collecting his whole remaining force, he
+flings himself violently into the depths. Three of the men instantly
+plunge in after him; those in the boats hasten to the rescue. Having
+seen what had happened, they gaze upon the spot where the whirling,
+whistling waves were closing over the old lord and his faithful
+servants. The bold divers reappear, bearing in their arms the castle's
+lord. Under the heraldic banner they lay the last heir of the haughty
+House. In vain they try to resuscitate the ven<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[Pg 563]</a></span>erable form; the dream is
+over now, but the mortal life remains under the blue waves of the
+ancestral lake.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The foreign prince inherits the ancient castle with all its treasures,
+the glories of the honored name, the entire Past of a noble race. He
+buries the bodies of his virgin wife and haughty father-in-law with
+funereal pomp and honor; but orders the corpse of the exile to be
+roughly thrown into unhallowed ground. In the very hall in which he had
+spent the first night of his bridal, surrounded by gay revellers,
+pledging full cups of ruby wine, with light jests flying from reckless
+lip to lip&mdash;he spreads, with the same comrades, the solemn Feast of the
+Dead. When the next dawn breaks upon them, mounting their vigorous
+steeds, they all ride back to the court of the King of the South. The
+king rejoices in his heart, giving thanks to the Fates that his leal
+subject has inherited vast wealth, and that the alien family, powerful
+through so many centuries, is extinct forever.</p>
+
+<p>In the clefts of the mountains they remember and honor the young
+chieftain, whose body had been thrown into unhallowed ground. They know
+that his dishonored grave lies on that side of the castle through which
+will pass their path to victory; and they will plant the cross of
+glorious memories upon it as they march to the assault to drive the
+foreigner from the Home of his loyal ancestors. Eagles and vultures, led
+by some mystic instinct, are often seen to fly from the mountains to the
+towers and turrets of the castle. It is certain that in some not distant
+day the comrades of the chieftain will pour with resistless strength
+into its doomed walls.... Let another chant to you the Hymn of victory;
+I have sung the Dirge of agony!</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Unhappy maiden! thou vanishest like a thought which cannot shape itself
+in any language known on earth, a dream of early love! Thou wouldst not
+lose thy snowy wings, and they bear thee on the whirlwind's track, where
+the mists fly, the clouds sail, the sound of harps dies, the leaves of
+autumn drift, the breath of sighs vanishes! Martyr to thine own dream of
+plighted faith, they bury thy fair form in ancestral earth; perchance
+the sculptured marble presses on thy faultless brow, for on its snow
+they grave the hated foreign name borne by thy alien husband! But the
+grass and wild flowers will soon grow unheeded around it, and in the
+green and flourishing world of the ever vanishing, thy name is never
+spoken.</p>
+
+<p>On the very morning of thy death, the seven old men to whom obedience
+was commanded by the chieftain, curse thee because thou borest away with
+thee the soul of their hero. In their addresses to the people, with
+scorn and scoff upon their lips, they sneer and call thee '<span class="smcap">WOMAN</span>;' but
+the people weep, and pray: Lord Christ, Son of the Virgin, give to the
+maiden <span class="smcap">ETERNAL PEACE</span>!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[Pg 564]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_ENGLISH_PRESS" id="THE_ENGLISH_PRESS"></a>THE ENGLISH PRESS.</h2>
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+
+<p>We have seen that the tone of the newspapers had of late years greatly
+improved. Men of eminence and great intellectual attainments were to be
+found among the contributors to the various journals, and what is much
+more important&mdash;for this was pre-eminently the age of bribery and
+corruption&mdash;men of honesty and integrity. Still there was a large class
+of venal hirelings in the pay of the Government. These were described by
+Mr. Pulteney as 'a herd of wretches whom neither information can
+enlighten nor affluence elevate.' He further expresses his conviction
+that 'if their patrons would read their writings, their salaries would
+be quickly withdrawn, for a few pages would convince them that they can
+neither attack nor defend, neither raise any man's reputation by their
+panegyrics, nor destroy it by their defamation.' Sir Robert Walpole,
+who, as has been already stated, expended enormous sums in bribes to
+public writers, however expedient he may have thought it to retain their
+services, does not appear to have attached much importance personally to
+the writers either for or against him, at least if we may put faith in
+his own words. On one occasion he said: 'I have never discovered any
+reason to exalt the authors who write against the Administration to a
+higher degree of reputation than their opponents;' and on another, 'Nor
+do I often read the papers of either party, except when I am informed by
+some, who have more inclination to such studies than myself, that they
+have risen by some accident above their common level.'</p>
+
+<p>Among the first rank of newspaper writers at this period must be placed
+the undying name of Henry Fielding, whose connection with journalism
+originated in his becoming, in 1739, editor and part owner of the
+<i>Champion</i>, a tri-weekly periodical of the <i>Spectator</i> stamp, with a
+compendium of the chief news of the day in addition. The rebellion of
+1745, like every other topic of absorbing interest, became the parent of
+a great many news sheets, the chief of which was probably the <i>National
+Journal, or County Gazette</i>, inasmuch as it called forth a Government
+prosecution, and procured six months' imprisonment for its printer. In
+opposition to the Jacobite journals, several newspapers were started in
+the interest of the Government. Fielding brought out the <i>True Patriot</i>,
+in 1745, and proved no mean antagonist for the sympathizers with the
+banished Stuarts. In the prospectus issued with his first number, he has
+some rather unpleasant things to say of his literary brethren:</p>
+
+<p>'The first little imperfection in these writings is that there is scarce
+a syllable of truth in any of them. If this be admitted to be a fault,
+it requires no other evidence than themselves and the perpetual
+contradictions which occur, not only on comparing one with the other,
+but the same author with himself on different days. Secondly, there is
+no sense in them. To prove this likewise, I appeal to their works.
+Thirdly, there is in reality nothing in them at all. And this also must
+be allowed by their readers, if paragraphs, which contain neither wit,
+nor humor, nor sense, nor the least importance, may be properly said to
+contain nothing.... Nor will this appear strange if we consider who are
+the authors of such tracts&mdash;namely, the journeymen of booksellers, of
+whom, I believe, much the same may be truly predicated as of these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[Pg 565]</a></span>
+their productions. But the encouragement with which these lucubrations
+are read may seem most strange and more difficult to be accounted for.
+And here I cannot agree with my bookseller that their eminent badness
+recommends them. The true reason is, I believe, the same which I once
+heard an economist assign for the content and satisfaction with which
+his family drank water-cider&mdash;viz., because they could procure no better
+liquor. Indeed, I make no doubt but that the understanding as well as
+the palate, though it may out of necessity swallow the worse, will, in
+general, prefer the better.'</p>
+
+<p>These sarcasms are probably not much overcolored, for, with one or two
+exceptions, newspapers had sunk to a very low state indeed, and this may
+be looked upon as one of the most degraded periods in the history of
+journalism with which we have had to deal, or shall hereafter have to
+encounter. The <i>Champion</i>, of course, was intended to be 'the better.'
+It did not, however, meet with any very great success, but still with
+enough to encourage Fielding in his attacks. In 1747 he dealt another
+heavy blow at the Jacobites, by commencing the <i>Jacobite Journal</i>, in
+which they were most mercilessly ridiculed and satirized. His opponents
+replied as best they could, but they were not masters of the keen and
+polished weapons which the great novelist wielded, and they were
+therefore obliged to content themselves with venomous spite and abuse.
+The ablest of these antagonists was a newspaper entitled <i>Old England,
+or the Constitutional Journal</i>, an infamous and scurrilous publication,
+to which, however, the elegant Lord Chesterfield did not think it
+derogatory to contribute. Among other celebrities who were associated
+with the press at this time, we find Lord Lyttelton, Bonnell
+Thornton&mdash;the author of the <i>Connoisseur</i>, an essay paper, which, though
+inferior to the <i>Spectator</i> and <i>Tatler</i>, may be read with great
+pleasure and profit, even at the present time&mdash;the famous Beckford,
+Edward Moore, and Arthur Murphy. This last started the <i>Test</i>, a journal
+devoted to the demolition of Pitt, but which called forth an opponent of
+no mean pretensions, under the name of the <i>Con-Test</i>, for then, as now,
+as it always has been, and always will be, a good and taking title
+produced a host of imitations and piracies. In spite, however, of
+Murphy's great talents and its first blush of success, the <i>Test</i> soon
+began to languish, and died of atrophy, after a brief existence of some
+eight or nine months. One of the most formidable anti-ministerialist
+papers which, had hitherto appeared, was the <i>Monitor</i>. It came out upon
+the accession of George III., and was especially occupied in attacking
+Lord Bute, the young monarch's chief minister and favorite. Its editor
+was John Entick, who is best known as the author of a dictionary, which
+was largely used in the schooldays of the last generation, and is still
+occasionally to be met with in old-fashioned families and out-of-the-way
+corners of the world. This <i>Monitor</i> was as terrible to the marquis as
+another more modern Monitor was to the Merrimac, and the Scotch minion
+was compelled to bestir himself. He called in to his aid Bubb
+Doddington, who, during the lifetime of the preceding king, had done
+good service for the party of the Prince of Wales, in a journal styled
+the <i>Remembrancer</i>, and they, in conjunction with Smollett as editor,
+brought out the <i>Briton</i> in 1762. It was but a weakly specimen of a
+Briton from the very first. There were many causes which contributed to
+its downfall. Scotchmen were regarded throughout the nation with
+feelings of thorough detestation, and Smollett had made for himself many
+bitter enemies, of men who had formerly been his friends, by his
+acceptance of this employment. It was the hand of a quondam friend that
+dealt his paper the <i>coup-de-grace</i>, none other in fact than John
+Wilkes, who had started the <i>North Briton</i> in opposition to Smollett.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[Pg 566]</a></span>
+The <i>Briton</i> expired on the 12th of February, 1763, and upon the 23d of
+April, in the same year, appeared the never-to-be-forgotten No. 45 of
+the <i>North Briton</i>. The circumstances connected with this famous
+<i>brochure</i>, and the consequences which followed upon its appearance, are
+so well known, that it will not be necessary to proceed to any great
+length in describing its incidents. This said No. 45 initiated a great
+fight, in which both sides committed several mistakes, won several
+victories, and sustained several defeats. Wilkes undoubtedly got the
+worst of it at first, but his discomfiture was set off by many
+compensations in different ways, which his long struggle procured for
+him. The obnoxious article, boldly assuming the responsibility of
+ministers for the king's speech&mdash;for Wilkes always asserted that he had
+the highest respect for the king himself&mdash;practically charged them with
+falsehood. Upon this they issued a general warrant for the apprehension
+of all the authors, printers, and publishers of the <i>North Briton</i>.
+Wilkes was seized and thrown into the Tower, where he was kept for four
+days, all access of friends and legal advisers being denied to him. At
+the end of that period he was brought before the Court of Common Pleas
+upon a writ of <i>habeas corpus</i>. Three points were raised in his favor,
+namely, whether the warrant was legal, whether the particular passage in
+the libel complained of ought not to have been specified, and whether
+his privileges as a member of Parliament did not protect him from
+arrest. The celebrated Lord Camden, then Chief Justice Pratt, presided,
+and ruled against Wilkes on the first two points, but discharged him
+from custody on the third. Wilkes hereupon reprinted the article. Both
+Houses of Parliament now took up the cudgels in behalf of the
+Government, and resolved that privilege of Parliament did not extend to
+arrest for libel. The House of Commons also resolved 'that the <i>North
+Briton</i>, No. 45, is a false, scandalous, and seditious libel, containing
+expressions of the most unexampled insolence and contumely toward his
+Majesty, the grossest expressions against both Houses of Parliament, and
+the most audacious defiance of the authority of the whole legislature,
+and most manifestly tending to alienate the affections of the people
+from his Majesty, to withdraw them from their obedience to the laws of
+the realm, and to excite them to traitorous insurrection against his
+Majesty's Government.' They also ordered the libel to be publicly burned
+by the common hangman, in front of the Royal Exchange. The authorities
+attempted to carry out this order, but an enormous mob assembled, drove
+off the officers, rescued the journal from the flames, and, in revenge,
+built a huge bonfire at Temple Bar, into which they threw the jackboot,
+the favorite emblem for expressing the public dislike of Lord Bute. It
+was now Wilkes's turn, and he brought an action in the following year
+against the under secretary of state, for the illegal seizure of his
+papers. Judge Pratt summed up in his favor, directing the jury that
+general warrants were 'unconstitutional, illegal, and altogether void.'
+As being the instrument in eliciting this memorable exposition of the
+laws, Wilkes deserves the gratitude of every Englishman who cares one
+jot for his constitutional rights, and of every lover of freedom
+throughout the world. He was not without immediate and substantial
+rewards, for the jury found a verdict for him, with &pound;1,000 damages. The
+corporation of the city of London, who had taken his part throughout,
+eventually chose him sheriff, lord mayor, and chamberlain, and presented
+the lord chief justice with the freedom of the city, in token of their
+admiration for his conduct. On the other hand, Wilkes was expelled the
+House of Commons, on account of the libel, and on the very same day
+which witnessed his triumph in the Court of Common Pleas, he was tried
+in the Court of the King's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[Pg 567]</a></span> Bench, for its republication, and found
+guilty. He refused to surrender to judgment, and was accordingly
+outlawed. He then proceeded to the Continent, from whence, some three or
+four years later, he addressed a petition to the king for a pardon. As
+no notice was taken of this, he returned to England, and paid a fine of
+&pound;500, his outlawry being reversed. He next petitioned the House of
+Commons for readmission; but his petition was rejected, and a new writ
+issued, when he was returned by an overwhelming majority. The House
+expelled him again, and this farce of expulsion and re&euml;lection was
+enacted four distinct times, until at last his election was declared
+null and void. He subsequently brought an action against Lord Halifax
+for illegal imprisonment and the seizure of his papers, and obtained
+&pound;4,000 damages. He lived several years after this, but took no prominent
+part in political affairs, confining his energies to the sphere of the
+city. While he was in exile at Paris he published an account of his
+trial, etc., but, as he was unfortunate in his defenders, so was he in
+his adversaries. The writings of his friend and coadjutor, Charles
+Churchill, the clever writer, but disreputable divine, are wellnigh, if
+not entirely, forgotten, but the undying pencil of the immortal Hogarth
+will forever hold him up to the gaze of remote posterity. Whatever may
+be the feeling as to his political opinions, and however great may be
+our gratitude to him in one particular instance, his authorship of the
+abominable and filthy 'Essay upon Women'&mdash;which, by the way, formed one
+count in the indictment against him at his trial in the King's
+Bench&mdash;will always earn for him the execration of mankind. The success
+of Wilkes in his action against the secretary of state, was the signal
+for a host of other authors, printers, and publishers, who had been
+similarly attacked, to bring similar actions. They generally obtained
+heavy damages, and ministers learned a lesson of caution which they did
+not soon forget.</p>
+
+<p>But while they persecuted the opposition scribes, ministers did not
+forget to reward those writers who advocated the cause of the
+Government. Men who had failed in all kinds of professions and
+employments, turned their attention to political literature, and, as far
+as emolument was concerned, met with great success, for although the
+talent was all on one side, the profit was all on the other. Among the
+chief of these fortunate scribblers was Dr. Francis, the father of the
+celebrated Sir Philip, Dr. Shebbrart, Hugh Kelly, and Arthur Murphy.</p>
+
+<p>We now arrive at another most memorable period in newspaper history&mdash;the
+appearance of the Letters of Junius. The interest in the discovery of
+the source of these withering diatribes has been almost as great as in
+that of the Nile, but, unlike that 'frightened and fugitive' river,
+their origin will probably never be discovered with any certainty. A
+neat little library might be formed of the books and pamphlets that have
+been written upon this 'vexed question,' and the name of every man that
+was at all eminent at the time of their publication&mdash;and of a great many
+too that were by no means eminent&mdash;has been at some time or other
+suggested as the author. This controversy may be looked upon as a sort
+of literary volcano, which every now and then becoming suddenly active,
+after a period of quiescence of longer or shorter duration, sends forth
+great clouds of smoke&mdash;but nothing else; and then all things remain once
+more in <i>statu quo</i>. Our space will not permit us to make any remark
+upon the matter, further than to express an opinion that the
+preponderance of evidence appears to be in favor of Sir Philip
+Francis&mdash;the untiring, unscrupulous bloodhound who hunted down Warren
+Hastings&mdash;having been the author. The first of these famous letters
+appeared in the <i>Public Advertiser</i>, of April 28, 1767; the last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[Pg 568]</a></span> of a
+stalwart family of sixty-nine, on January 21, 1772. Let Burke testify to
+their tremendous power. To the House of Commons he said: 'He made you
+his quarry, and you still bleed from the wounds of his talons. You
+crouched, and still crouch beneath his rage.' To the speaker he said:
+'Nor has he dreaded the terrors of your brow, sir; he has attacked even
+you&mdash;he has&mdash;and I believe you have no reason to triumph in the
+encounter.' And again: 'Kings, lords, and commons are but the sport of
+his fury.' Speaking of the 'Letter to the king,' Burke said: 'It was the
+rancor and venom with which I was struck. In these respects the <i>North
+Briton</i> is as much inferior to him as in strength, wit, and judgment.'
+The Government tried every means in their power to discover the author,
+but in vain. Woodfall, the proprietor of the <i>Public Advertiser</i>, knew
+or professed to know nothing about it, asserting that the letters were
+found in his box from time to time, but how they came there he could not
+tell. Let it suffice us to know that they admirably served the purpose
+for which they were written, viz., to defeat tyranny, and to defend
+freedom; that they are still allowed to rank as the greatest political
+essays that were ever written; and that Junius, whoever he was, will
+always be gratefully remembered among us, so long as we continue to
+display that watchful jealousy in the preservation of our liberties
+which has hitherto ever characterized us as a nation.</p>
+
+<p>The Government prosecuted several newspaper proprietors and printers for
+publishing these letters, and more especially that addressed to the
+king. Among others who were brought to trial were Woodfall himself; John
+Almon, of the <i>London Museum</i>; Miller, of the <i>London Evening Post</i>;
+Baldwin, of the <i>St. James's Chronicle</i>; Say, of the <i>Gazetteer</i>, and
+Robinson, of the <i>Independent Chronicle</i>. Almon was, however, the only
+one who was punished. The jury consisted of Government employ&eacute;s,
+carefully selected, and of course brought in a verdict adverse to him.
+Almon was fined and ordered to find substantial bail for his future good
+behavior.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Public Advertiser</i> was a joint-stock concern, chiefly in the hands
+of the booksellers, among whom we find names which are still famous in
+Paternoster Row, such as Longman, Cadell, Rivington, and Strahan.
+Woodfall's ledger supplies us with the following information as to the
+expenses of getting it up, some of the items being sufficiently curious:</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="70%" cellspacing="0" summary="Woodfall's ledger supplies us with the following information">
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>&pound;</td><td align='right'>s.</td><td align='right'>d.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Paid translating foreign news, etc.,</td><td align='right'>100</td><td align='right'>0</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foreign newspapers,</td><td align='right'>14</td><td align='right'>0</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Foy, at 2s. a day,</td><td align='right'>31</td><td align='right'>4</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Lloyd's coffee house for post news</td><td align='right'>12</td><td align='right'>0</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Home news, as per receipts and incidents,</td><td align='right'>282</td><td align='right'>4</td><td align='right'>11&frac12;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>List of sheriffs,</td><td align='right'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>10</td><td align='right'>6</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Plantation, Irish, and Scotch news,</td><td align='right'>50</td><td align='right'>0</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Portsmouth letter,</td><td align='right'>8</td><td align='right'>5</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Stocks,</td><td align='right'>3</td><td align='right'>3</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Porterage to the stamp office,</td><td align='right'>10</td><td align='right'>8</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Recorder's clerk,</td><td align='right'>1</td><td align='right'>1</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sir John Fielding,</td><td align='right'>50</td><td align='right'>0</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Delivering papers fifty-two weeks, at &pound;1 4s. per week,</td><td align='right'>62</td><td align='right'>8</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Clerk, and to collect debts,</td><td align='right'>30</td><td align='right'>0</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Setting up extra advertisements,</td><td align='right'>31</td><td align='right'>10</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A person to go daily to fetch in advertisements, getting evening papers, etc.,</td><td align='right'>15</td><td align='right'>15</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Morning and evening papers,</td><td align='right'>26</td><td align='right'>8</td><td align='right'>9&frac12;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Price of hay and straw, Whitechapel,</td><td align='right'>1</td><td align='right'>6</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Green for port entries,</td><td align='right'>31</td><td align='right'>10</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Law charges, Mr. Holloway,</td><td align='right'>6</td><td align='right'>7</td><td align='right'>5</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bad debts,</td><td align='right'>18</td><td align='right'>3</td><td align='right'>6</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right' colspan="3">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>&pound;796</td><td align='right'>15</td><td align='right'>2</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>The sale was about three thousand a day, and the shareholders received
+&pound;80<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[Pg 569]</a></span> per share clear profit. The newspapers of those days paid the
+managers of theatres for accounts of their plays, as witness the
+following entries:</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='centered'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="managers of theatres for accounts of their plays">
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>&pound;</td><td align='right'>s.</td><td align='right'>d.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Playhouses,</td><td align='right'>100</td><td align='right'>0</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Drury Lane advertisements,</td><td align='right'>64</td><td align='right'>8</td><td align='right'>6</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Covent Garden</td><td align='right'>66</td><td align='right'>11</td><td align='right'>0</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right' colspan="3">&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'>&pound;230</td><td align='right'>19</td><td align='right'>6</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>Theatrical advertising had not reached the pitch of development which it
+has since attained; the competition was not so severe, and managers did
+not find it necessary to have recourse to ingenious methods of
+propitiating dramatic critics, such as producing their plays at the
+commencement of a new season, or paying &pound;300 a year for the supervision
+of the playbills&mdash;expedients which have been now and then employed in
+our own times.</p>
+
+<p>Among the writers in the <i>Public Advertiser</i> were Caleb Whitefoord,
+<i>dilettante</i> and wine merchant, Charles d'Este, who, like the popular
+London preacher of the present day, Bellew, first tried the stage, but
+not succeeding in that line, entered the pulpit; John Taylor, afterward
+editor of the <i>Morning Post</i>; Tom Syers, author of the 'Dialogues of the
+Dead,' and Woodfall's brother William. This last started the <i>Morning
+Chronicle</i>, in 1769, a paper whose fate it was, after lasting nearly a
+century, to pass into the venal hands of Sergeant Glover (who sold it to
+Louis Napoleon, in order that it might become <i>sub ros&acirc;</i> a French organ
+in London), and to die in consequence in well-merited dishonor.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Public Ledger</i> was brought out by Newberry, the bookseller, in
+1760, and is chiefly remarkable as being the vehicle through which
+Goldsmith's 'Citizen of the World' was first given to the public.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Poet Goldsmith, for shortness called 'Noll,'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll,'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>received two guineas for his first article, and afterward became a
+regular contributor at a guinea an article. William Radcliffe, the
+husband of the authoress of 'The Mysteries of Udolfo,' edited the
+<i>Englishman</i>, a paper to which Edmund Burke contributed, and
+subsequently the <i>English Chronicle</i> and the <i>Morning Herald</i>. Of all
+these he was proprietor, either altogether or in part, and it seems to
+have been customary for the editor to be the proprietor, or, more
+strictly speaking, for the proprietor to be the editor.</p>
+
+<p>The prosecutions in connection with the letters of Junius were not the
+only attacks made upon the press at this time. Parliament again entered
+the lists against it. There was a certain Lord Marchmont, whose especial
+mission appears to have been to persecute the newspapers. Shakspeare
+says,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'The evil that men do lives after them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The good is oft interred with their bones;'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and whether or no my Lord Marchmont ever did any good cannot now be
+ascertained. All that is known of him is that he was very pertinacious
+and very successful in his onslaughts upon his victims, for, whenever he
+saw the name of any member of the House of Peers in a journal, he used
+to make a motion against the printer for breach of privilege, summon him
+before the bar of the House, and have him heavily fined. The House of
+Commons followed suit. The old bone of contention, the reporting of the
+debates, was raked up again. There were then two giants of reporting,
+William Woodfall, who, from his wonderful retentive powers, was called
+by the <i>sobriquet</i> of Memory Woodfall, and William Radcliffe. It was in
+1771 that the House proceeded to active measures by a majority of ninety
+votes to fifty-five. Orders were given to arrest the printers,
+publishers, and authors of the <i>Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser</i> and
+the <i>Middlesex Journal, or Chronicle of Liberty</i>. The printers went into
+hiding, and a reward of &pound;50 was offered for their apprehension. Shortly
+afterward, this raid was extended to the printers of the <i>Morning
+Chronicle</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[Pg 570]</a></span> <i>St. James's Chronicle</i>, <i>General Post</i>, <i>London Evening
+Post</i>, <i>Whitehall Evening Post</i>, and <i>London Packet</i>. Some of these
+appeared at the bar of the House, and actually <i>made their submission on
+their knees</i>. Miller, of the <i>London Evening Post</i>, declined to
+surrender, and was, after some difficulty, arrested under a warrant from
+the speaker. He was taken before the lord mayor, who was a member of the
+House of Commons. The city's chief magistrate&mdash;let his name, Brass
+Crosby, be remembered with honor&mdash;declared the warrant illegal,
+discharged Miller, and committed the speaker's messenger for assault.
+The same thing was done in the case of Wheble, of the <i>Middlesex
+Journal</i>, who was taken before John Wilkes, then sitting as alderman at
+Guildhall; and in that of Thompson, of the <i>Gazetteer</i>, who was taken
+before Alderman Oliver. The ground for their discharge was that the
+speaker's warrant had no force within the boundaries of the city,
+without being countersigned by a magistrate of the corporation. The
+House of Commons became furious, and ordered the attendance of Crosby
+and Oliver, but, taught by old experience, did not in the first instance
+think it desirable to meddle with Wilkes. The civic magistrates stood
+their ground manfully, and produced their charters. The House retorted
+by looking up the resolutions passed on various occasions against the
+publication of the debates. Meanwhile a mob assembled outside, and
+abused and hustled the members on their way to the House. After a fierce
+debate, Oliver was committed to the Tower. The attendance of Wilkes was
+then ordered for the 8th of April, but, in the mean time, the House,
+like Fear as represented by Collins in his Ode to the Passions,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">'back recoiled...<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even at the sound himself had made;'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and accordingly got out of the difficulty by adjourning over the day for
+which the redoubtable Wilkes had been summoned. On the 27th of April,
+however, the lord mayor was sent to the Tower. The whole country rang
+with indignation; but, nevertheless, the city magistrates remained
+incarcerated until the 23d of July, when the Parliament was prorogued,
+and, its power of imprisonment being at an end, they were set free. Such
+was the issue of the last battle between the Parliament and the press,
+on the question of publishing the debates. It was fought in 1771, and
+had been a tougher conflict than any of its predecessors, but it was
+decisive. There is no danger of the subject being reopened; the
+reporting of the debates is now one of the most important of the
+functions of our newspapers; and the members themselves are too sensible
+of the services rendered them by the reporters' gallery to be suicidal
+enough to inaugurate a new crusade against it. What those services are,
+any one who has been patriotic or curious enough to sit out a debate in
+the strangers' gallery over night, and then to read the speeches, to
+which he has listened, in the newspapers next morning, can readily
+appreciate. Hazy ideas have become clear, mutilated and unintelligible
+sentences have been neatly and properly arranged, needless repetitions
+and tautological verbiage have disappeared; there is no sign of
+hesitation; hums and haws, and other inexpressible ejaculations, grunts,
+and interpolations find no place; the thread of an argument is shown
+where none was visible before, and all is fluent, concise, and more or
+less to the point.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the tone of the press had again greatly improved, partly owing
+to purification through the trials which it had undergone, and partly
+owing to the better taste of the public. Its circulation had rapidly
+increased. In 1753 the number of stamps on newspapers in the United
+Kingdom was 7,411,757; in 1760, 9,464,790; in 1774, 12,300,608; in 1775,
+12,680,906; and in 1776, 12,836,000, a halt in its progress being caused
+by Lord North's new stamp act,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[Pg 571]</a></span> raising the stamp from one to one and a
+half pence. The ordinary price of a news sheet was two or two and a half
+pence, but this was more than doubled by its cost of transmission
+through the post office, which, for a daily paper, was &pound;5 a year. The
+<i>Morning Post</i>, the full title of which was originally the <i>Morning Post
+and Daily Advertiser</i>, first came out in 1772. In 1775 it appeared
+regularly every morning, under the editorship of the Rev. Henry Bate,
+afterward the Rev. Sir Henry Bate Dudley, Bart. The <i>Gentleman's
+Magazine</i>&mdash;that prolific mine to whose stores of wealth the present
+series of articles is beholden times out of number&mdash;gives a curious
+account of a duel into which this clerical editor was forced in his
+clerical capacity. Editorial duels were not unknown in those days.
+Wilkes had fought one or two, as well as other editors; but these were
+the circumstances of Mr. Bate's encounter:</p>
+
+<p>'The cause of quarrel arose from some offensive paragraphs that had
+appeared in the <i>Morning Post</i>, highly reflecting on the character of a
+lady, for whom Captain Stoney had a particular regard. Mr. Bate had
+taken every possible method, consistent with honor, to convince Captain
+Stoney that the insertion of the paragraphs was wholly without his
+knowledge, to which Mr. Stoney gave no credit, and insisted on the
+satisfaction of a gentleman, or the discovery of the author. This
+happened some days before, but meeting, as it were by accident, on the
+day before mentioned (January 13, 1777), they adjourned to the Adelphi,
+called for a room, shut the door, and, being furnished with pistols,
+discharged them at each other without effect. They then drew swords, and
+Mr. Stoney received a wound in the breast and arm, and Mr. Bate one in
+the thigh. Mr. Bate's sword bent and slanted against the captain's
+breastbone, which Mr. Bate apprising him of, Captain Stoney called to
+him to straighten it, and in the interim, while the sword was under his
+foot for that purpose, the door was broken open, or the death of one of
+the parties would most certainly have been the issue.'</p>
+
+<p>Another eminent writer in the <i>Public Advertiser</i> was John Horne,
+afterward John Horne Tooke, the author of the 'Diversions of Purley,' a
+man to be always remembered with gratitude in America, for the part
+which he took in the struggle between the colonies and the mother
+country. His connection with the press was one long series of trials for
+libel, in which he always got the worst of the fray. In fact, he rather
+appeared to like being in hot water, for he more than once wrote an
+article with the full intention of standing the trial which he knew
+would be sure to follow its publication. One of his reasons may have
+been that this was the only way in which he could indulge his penchant
+for forensic disputation. He had been bred a clergyman, but, disliking
+the retirement of a quiet country parsonage, he threw up his preferment,
+abandoned his clerical functions altogether, and came to London to keep
+his terms at the Temple. The benchers, however, holding the force of the
+maxim, 'Once in orders always in orders,' refused to admit him to the
+degree of barrister at law. In 1771 he founded the Society of the
+Supporters of the Bill of Rights, one of the objects of which was to
+uphold the newspapers in their conflicts with their great foe, the law
+of libel, and to defray the expenses which were thus incurred. But,
+owing to some quarrel with Wilkes, he withdrew from his connection with
+this society, and started a new one&mdash;the Constitutional Society&mdash;which
+was founded in the interests of the American colonies. His publication
+of the doings of this society procured for him the distinction of
+another trial, the upshot of which was that he was fined &pound;200,
+imprisoned for a year, and ordered to find bail for his good behavior
+for three years more. After two unsuccessful attempts he got into
+Parliament, and proved a very troublesome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[Pg 572]</a></span> and formidable antagonist to
+ministers, as might be expected from a prominent member of the London
+Corresponding Society, which, consisting chiefly of working men, had for
+its main objects the establishment of universal suffrage and annual
+Parliaments. This society owed its origin to the French Revolution, and
+it kept up a regular correspondence with the National Convention and the
+French Jacobins. It numbered about fifty thousand members, in different
+parts of the kingdom, and disseminated its opinions by means of
+newspapers, pamphlets, and handbills, which were published at a low
+price, or given away in the streets. One of the most influential of
+these pamphlets was Tom Paine's 'Rights of Man,' for writing which he
+was tried and convicted. Erskine was his counsel, and in the course of
+his speech said:</p>
+
+<p>'Other liberties are held under Governments, but the liberty of opinion
+keeps Governments themselves in due subjection to their duties. This has
+produced the martyrdom of truth in every age, and the world has been
+only purged from ignorance with the innocent blood of those who have
+enlightened it.'</p>
+
+<p>The effect of these writings was that Government became alarmed, and a
+proclamation was issued against seditious speaking and writing. The
+<i>habeas corpus</i> act was suspended, and political trials became the order
+of the day. Horne Tooke's was one of the latest of these trials, in
+1794. Erskine was his counsel, and was more successful than when
+defending Paine. The public excitement had by this time very much toned
+down, and Tooke was acquitted. One result of this trial was to secure
+the fortunes of Erskine; but another and much more important one was to
+establish on a firmer basis the right of free discussion and liberty of
+speech, and to check the ministry in the career of terrorism and
+oppression upon which they had entered. Looking back upon these trials,
+at this distance of time, one cannot but feel a conviction that the
+fears of the Government and the nation were absurdly exaggerated. The
+foundations of English society and British institutions were too firmly
+fixed to be easily shaken, even when the whole continent of Europe was
+convulsed from one end to the other. But the London Corresponding
+Society still continued its efforts, till its secretary was tried and
+convicted, and the society itself was suppressed, along with many other
+similar associations, by an act of Parliament, called the Corresponding
+Societies Bill, in 1799. Tooke's connection with it had ceased some time
+before; in fact, it is more than doubtful if he had ever been a
+thorough-going supporter of it in heart, or had any other object than
+that of making political capital out of it, and of indulging his
+belligerent proclivities. He died in 1812, at the age of seventy-six.</p>
+
+<p>In 1777 there were seventeen regular newspapers published in London, of
+which seven were daily, eight tri-weekly, one bi-weekly, and one weekly.
+In 1778 appeared the first Sunday newspaper, under the title of
+<i>Johnson's Sunday Monitor</i>.</p>
+
+<p>We have now arrived at the threshold of a very important event&mdash;too
+important, in fact, to be introduced at the end of an article, and which
+we therefore reserve for our next number. That event is the birth of the
+<i>Times</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[Pg 573]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_HOUSE_IN_THE_LANE" id="THE_HOUSE_IN_THE_LANE"></a>THE HOUSE IN THE LANE.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Warm and bright the sun is shining<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the farmhouse far away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a pleasant picture lying<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bright before my gaze all day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I see the tall, gray chimney,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the steep roof sloping down;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And far off the spires rise dimly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the old New Hampshire town.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the little footpath creeping<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the long grass to the door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the hopvine's tresses sweeping<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The low roof and lintels o'er.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the barn with loft and rafter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weather beaten, scarred, and wide&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the tree I used to clamber,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the well-sweep on one side.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And beyond that wide old farmyard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the bridge across the stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I can see the ancient orchard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the russets thickly gleam,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the birds sing just as sweetly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the branches knarled and low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As when autumns there serenely<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Walked a hundred years ago.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And upon the east are beaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The salt meadows to the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the hillside pastures, dreaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of October pleasantly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On the west, like lanterns glimmer<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thick the ears of corn to-day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I sowed along each furrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Singing as I went, last May.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So it hangs, that vision tender,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over all my loss and pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the maples flame their splendor<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the old house in the lane.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[Pg 574]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, beside the warm south window,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At this very hour of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the sunbeams love to linger,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With her knitting dropped away,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She is sitting&mdash;mother&mdash;mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With your pale and patient face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the frosted hairs forever<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shed their sad and tender grace.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Are you thinking of that morning<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your last kisses faltered down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the summer sun was dawning<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O'er the old New Hampshire town?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">For my country, in her anguish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Came betwixt us mightily:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Save me, or, my son, I perish!'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was her dread appeal to me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Youth and strength and life made answer:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When that cry of bitter stress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Woke the hills of old New Hampshire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could I give my country less?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And not when the battle's thunder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crashed along our ranks its power&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not now, though fiercer hunger<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Drains my life-springs at this hour&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Would I fainter make the answer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the offering less complete,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I laid, in old New Hampshire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Joyful at my country's feet!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though your boy has borne, dear mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watching by that window low,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the long, slow hours this hunger<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It would break your heart to know.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though the thought of that old larder,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the shelves o'erflowing there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made the pang of hunger harder<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the day and night to bear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And the doves have come each morning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the lowing kine been fed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While your only boy was starving<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For a single crust of bread!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[Pg 575]</a></span><br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But through all this need and sorrow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Has the end been drawing nigh:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In these prison walls, to-morrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It will not be hard to die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though, upon this cold floor lying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bitter the last pang may be&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still your prayers have sweet replying&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dear Lord has stood with me!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And His hand the gates shall open,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the home shall fairer shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That mine earthly one was given,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my life, dear land, for thine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So I patient wait the dawning<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That shall rise and still this pain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brighter than that last sweet morning<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the old house in the lane!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%; margin-left: 6em; margin-top: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 1.3em;" />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the sunbeams, growing bolder.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sought him in the noon, next day&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Starved to death, New Hampshire's soldier<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the Libby Prison lay.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="MUSIC_A_SCIENCE" id="MUSIC_A_SCIENCE"></a>MUSIC A SCIENCE.</h2>
+
+
+<p>Much has been written concerning music. Volume after volume, shallow or
+erudite, sentimental or critical, prejudiced or impartial, has been
+issued from the press, but the want (in most instances) of a certain
+scientific foundation, and of rational canons of criticism, has greatly
+obscured the general treatment of the subject. Truth has usually been
+sought everywhere except in the only place where she was likely to be
+found, namely, in the realm of <i>natural law</i>, and consequently, of
+science. Old tomes of Greek and Latin lore, school traditions, the usage
+of the best masters, and the verdict of the human ear (a good judge, but
+not always unperverted), have been appealed to for decisions upon
+questions readily answered by a knowledge and consideration of first
+principles resting upon the immutable laws of sound, upon numerical
+relations of vibrations. These principles are strictly scientific, and
+capable of demonstration.</p>
+
+<p>So long ago as 1828, the American public was told by Philip
+Trajetta,<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[Pg 576]</a></span> that 'if counterpoint be not a science, neither is
+astronomy.' For want of proper expounders, this truth has made but
+little impression, and, while the Art of Music has advanced considerably
+among us, the Science has remained nearly stationary. In Europe,
+erudition, research, and collections of rules have not been wanting.
+Much has been accomplished, but an exhaustive work, based upon the
+simple laws of nature, has (so far as the writer can learn) never yet
+appeared. The profoundly learned and truly great Bohemian musician, W.
+J. Tomaschek, who died in 1849, taught a system of musical science
+founded upon a series of beautiful and easily comprehended natural laws.
+His logical training and wide general cultivation gave him advantages
+enjoyed by few of his profession. The result of his researches has
+unfortunately never been published, and his system of harmony is
+<i>thoroughly</i> known only by his more earnest and studious pupils.</p>
+
+
+<p>
+Trajetta was the son of a well-known Italian composer of the same name.
+He was a pupil of the celebrated Conservatorio of Naples, and, as I have
+been informed, was about to obtain a professorship in the Conservatorio
+of Paris, when political circumstances diverted his course to America.
+He was the friend of General Moreau and President Madison. Of noble
+appearance, fine manners, and sensitive temperament, he for some time
+received the consideration due to his talents and acquirements, but, in
+after years, was sadly neglected, and finally died in Philadelphia,
+almost literally of want. His musical knowledge perished with him; his
+manuscripts (operas, oratorios, etc.) were, I believe, all burned by him
+before his death. A sad history, and, in a land where there has been so
+little opportunity for the beet musical instruction, a strange one!</p>
+
+<p>To define the provinces of <i>science</i> and <i>art</i>, we may briefly say, that
+science is concerned with the discovery of demonstrable principles, and
+the deduction of undeniable corollaries; while art is occupied with
+expression, performance, and the creative faculty with which man has
+been endowed. Music and astronomy are both sciences, that is, founded
+upon certain fixed and ascertainable laws; but astronomy is no art,
+because man has not the power to create, or even remodel worlds, and
+send them rolling through space; while he can produce sounds, and
+arrange them in such a way as to result in significant meaning and in
+beauty, two of the chief ends of art.</p>
+
+<p>The music of different periods in the world's history has rested upon
+the various scales recognized during those periods as fundamental, which
+scales have been more or less complete as they have approached or
+receded from the absolutely fundamental scale as given by nature. The
+scales now in use are not identical with the natural scale, but are, in
+different degrees, <i>derived</i> from it.</p>
+
+<p>The natural scale is, in its commencement, harmonic, and is found by the
+consideration of the natural progression of sound consequent upon the
+division and subdivision of a single string. It ought to be familiar to
+every student of acoustics. The sound produced by the striking or
+twanging of a single string (on a monochord) is called the tonic, and
+also, from its position as the lowest note, the bass. If we divide this
+string in half, we will obtain a series of vibrations producing a sound
+the <i>same in character</i>, but, so to speak, <i>doubly high in pitch</i>. This
+sound is named the octave, because it is the eighth note in our common
+diatonic scale. If we divide the string into three parts, the result
+will be a sound called the large fifth; a division into four parts gives
+the next higher octave of the bass; into five, gives the sound known as
+the large third, commonly called major third; into six, the octave, or
+next higher repetition, of the large fifth; into seven, the small
+seventh; into eight, the third repetition of the octave of the bass. The
+progression thus far is hence: Bass&mdash;1st octave of bass&mdash;large fifth&mdash;2d
+octave of bass&mdash;large third&mdash;1st octave of large fifth&mdash;small
+seventh&mdash;3d octave of bass. Employing the alphabetical names of the
+notes (always ascending): C&mdash;C&mdash;G&mdash;C&mdash;E&mdash;G&mdash;B flat&mdash;C.</p>
+
+<p>This progression may truly be called <i>natural</i>, as it is that into which
+the string naturally divides itself when stricken. An attentive ear can
+readily distinguish the succession of sounds as far as the small
+seventh. The longer bass strings of any piano of full tone and resonant
+sounding board will suf<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_577" id="Page_577">[Pg 577]</a></span>fice for the experiment. These are also the
+natural notes as found, with differences in compass, in the simple horn
+and trumpet, and the phenomenon is visibly shown in the well-known
+experiment of grains of sand placed on a brass or glass plate, and made
+to assume various forms and degrees of division under the influence of
+certain musical sounds.</p>
+
+<p>This is not the place to elaborate the subject, or to show the
+progression of the natural scale as produced by further subdivisions of
+the string. Suffice it to say that the remaining notes of the common
+diatonic scale are <i>selected</i> (with some slight modifications) from
+sounds thus produced. This scale cannot then be considered, in all its
+parts, as the fundamental, natural one. Nature permits to man a great
+variety of thought and action, provided always he does not too far
+infringe her organic laws. She may allow opposing forces to result in
+small perturbations, but fundamental principles and their legitimate
+consequences must remain intact.</p>
+
+<p>No one can ponder upon the above-mentioned harmonic foundation of the
+musical scale without conceiving a new idea of the beauty and
+significance of that glorious art and science which may be proved to be
+based upon laws decreed by the Almighty himself. The one consideration
+that, in all probability, no single musical sound comes to us alone, but
+each one is accompanied by its choir of ascending harmonic sequences, is
+sufficient to afford matter for many a wholesome and delightful
+meditation.</p>
+
+<p>Instead, then, of regarding our earthly music as a purely human
+invention, we may look upon it as a genuine gift from heaven, a
+<i>legitimate</i> forerunner of the exalted strains one day to be heard in
+the heavenly Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>The laws of vibrations producing sound, of undulations giving rise to
+light and color, of oscillations resulting in heat, the movements of the
+heavenly bodies, the flow of electric and magnetic currents, the
+rhythmical beat of the pulse, the unceasing march of mind and human
+events, all lead us to the consideration of <i>motion</i> as one of the
+greatest of secondary causes in the guidance of the universe. Do we not,
+indeed, find the same element in the Divine Trinity of the Godhead, in
+the eternal generation of the Son, and the procession of the Holy
+Spirit?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THOUGHT" id="THOUGHT"></a>THOUGHT.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The stars move calm within the brow of night:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No sea of molten flame therein is pent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor meteors, from that burning chaos, blent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shoot from their orbits in a maddening flight.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But in the brain is clasped a flood of light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose seething fires can find no form, nor vent,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pour, through the strained eyeballs, glances, rent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From suffering worlds within, hidden from sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And laboring for birth. This chaos deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Touch thou, O Thought! and crystallize to form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Resolve to order its wild lightning storm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of meteor dreams! that into life shall leap<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At thy command, and move before thy face<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In starry majesty, and awful grace.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_578" id="Page_578">[Pg 578]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_WAR_A_CONTEST_FOR_IDEAS" id="THE_WAR_A_CONTEST_FOR_IDEAS"></a>THE WAR A CONTEST FOR IDEAS.</h2>
+
+
+<p>One of those curious pamphlets, or <i>brochures</i>, as they call them, which
+the French political writers make the frequent medium of their
+discussions, was lately published at Paris, under the title of 'France,
+Mexico, and the Confederate States.' It is less a discussion of the
+Mexican question than an adroit appeal, under cover of it, in behalf of
+the Southern confederacy. It addresses itself to the enthusiastic
+temperament of Frenchmen, with the specious sophism, underlying its
+argument, that the South is fighting for <i>ideas</i>, the North for <i>power</i>.
+This is a sophism largely current abroad, and not without its dupes even
+at home. The purpose of this paper is to expose the nakedness of it.</p>
+
+<p>Fighting for ideas may be a very sublime thing, and it may likewise be a
+very ridiculous thing. The valorous knight of La Mancha set forth to
+fight for ideas, and he began to wage war with windmills. He fought for
+ideas, indeed, but his distempered imagination quite overlooked the fact
+that they were ideas long since dead, beyond hope of resurrection. And
+it is but the statement of palpable truth to declare that whatever ideas
+the South is fighting for now, are of a like obsolete character. The
+glory of feudalism, as a system of society, is departed; and its
+attendant glories of knight-errantry and human slavery are departed with
+it. Don Quixote thought to reestablish the one, and the South deludes
+itself with the hope of reestablishing the other. Times and ideas have
+changed since the days of feudalism, and the South only repeats in
+behalf of slavery the tragic farce of Don Quixote in behalf of
+knight-errantry. Both alike would roll back the centuries of modern
+civilization, and, reversing the dreams of Plato and Sir Thomas More,
+would hope to find a Utopia in the dark ages of the past.</p>
+
+<p>We do not ridicule, much less deny the power of ideas. On the contrary,
+we believe heartily in ideas, and in men of ideas. We accept ideas as
+forces of civilization, and we would magnify their office as teachers
+and helpers of man, in his poor strivings after good. Man is ever
+repeating the despondent cry of the Psalmist, 'Who will show us any
+good?' It is the mission of ideas, the ministering angels of
+civilization, to lift him into a realm of glorious communion with good
+and spiritual things, and so inspire him to heroic effort in his work.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, while thus willing to glorify the office of ideas, we hold
+them to be of less worth than institutions. That is, ideas, of
+themselves, are of little practical value. An idea, disjoined from an
+institution, is spirit without body; just as an institution that does
+not embody a noble idea, is body without spirit. An idea, to be
+effective, must be organized; an institution, to be effective, must have
+breathed into it the breath of life, must be vivified with an idea. It
+is only thus, in and through institutions, that ideas can exert their
+proper influence upon society.</p>
+
+<p>This is, indeed, the American principle of reform. The thorough
+conviction of it in the hearts of the American people has thus far saved
+us from the anarchy of radicalism, which is ever agitating new ideas;
+and is now destined to save us from the bolder-faced anarchy of
+revolution, seeking to overthrow our institutions.</p>
+
+<p>But fighting for ideas, what does it mean? The French Revolution (that
+great abortion of the eighteenth century and of history) was fought for
+ideas, and ended in despotism. Does fighting for ideas mean despotism?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_579" id="Page_579">[Pg 579]</a></span>
+The French Revolution went directly to the root of the question. It
+struck, as radicalism can never help but strike, at the very foundations
+of society. Hence, in France, the abolition of institutions (the
+safeguards of ideas), and the consequent check of the great principles
+which the Revolution set out to establish. Thus it is that the French
+Revolution has made itself the great example of history, warning nations
+against the crude radicalisms of theorists. It is not enough to fight
+for ideas&mdash;we must fight also for institutions. Yet society seems never
+to learn the lesson which Nature never tires of repeating, that all true
+growth is gradual. Political science must start with the first axiom of
+natural science, that 'Nature acts by insensible gradations.' Radicalism
+is not reform. Radicalism and conservatism must combine together to make
+reform. An eminent divine and scholar lately illustrated the point thus:
+'The arm of progressive power rests always on the fulcrum of stability.'
+This statement is exhaustive, and sums up the case.</p>
+
+<p>But let us examine the question of ideas a little more closely, and see
+whether, indeed, it is the South or the North that is fighting for ideas
+in this contest. And let us interpret ideas, according to the etymology
+of the word, to mean those things which the mind <i>sees</i>, and the
+conscience accepts and recognizes and <i>knows</i>, to be just elements, or
+principles, of civilization. For it is only such ideas that call forth a
+response from the mighty instincts of the masses. The common conscience
+of mankind tests the ideas always, as the apostle teaches us to try the
+spirits, 'whether they are of God.'</p>
+
+
+<h3>I. THE IDEA OF POLITICAL EQUALITY.</h3>
+
+<p>It will hardly be disputed that the great idea of the age is the
+democratic idea, or the idea of political equality. It is the idea that
+all men are kings, because equals: just as the highest idea of theology
+is, at last, that all men are ordained to be priests unto God, The
+problem of political philosophy is to make this idea a reality and fact.
+Our institutions have this for their sublime mission. We are seeking to
+demonstrate, in the American way, the essential truth of those ideas
+which failed of their perfect fruit in France, because not rightly
+organized and applied. America is the youngest and last-born of the
+nations; and to her it has been intrusted to develop the democratic idea
+in the system of representative government. Politics is thus made to
+harmonize and be at one with progress. The last-born of nations is set
+for the teaching and developing of the last-born of governmental
+principles. If, moreover, we regard America, according to the teachings
+of physical geography, as the first-born of the continents, we may
+discover another beautiful harmony. For our democratic system, in basing
+itself on the idea of political equality does, in effect, start from the
+very first principle of all true government; and this first principle of
+government thus finds its temple and home in the first of the
+continents.</p>
+
+<p>But let us not be misled by specious names. Let us not mistake for
+political equality the crude fancies of idealists, who would reverse the
+order of creation, and declare an equality that does not exist.
+Political equality neither assumes nor infers social equality; and
+therefore is not subversive of social order. It does not presuppose
+natural equality; and, therefore, is not contrary to palpable evidence,
+and hence unphilosophical and false. Political equality is but the
+corollary and logical result of that maxim of our system, set forth in
+our Declaration of Independence, that 'government derives its just
+powers from the consent of the governed.'</p>
+
+<p>Political equality is, therefore, the essential condition of our
+republic. It is the alpha and omega of our political philosophy. It is
+the first factor in the problem of our government. It is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580">[Pg 580]</a></span> organized
+idea of our nation, and is embodied in that nation. It is the lifespring
+of our institutions. It is the basis of our government. It is what makes
+the United States of America the hope of humanity.</p>
+
+<p>While, therefore, political equality may not be the <i>fact</i> of our
+government, the nation stands for that idea. The founders of the
+government were content with affirming the great idea; and they left to
+the benignant influences of time and conscience and Christianity, under
+our institutions, the work of reducing the idea to fact. For more than
+half a century the work has gone on, and still 'goes bravely on.' In
+peace and war the same magnificent Constitution is over us, and that
+Constitution, avoiding designedly the odious word slave, is a chart and
+covenant of freedom.</p>
+
+<p>Directly opposed to this idea is the organization of the Southern
+confederacy&mdash;the essential and substantial antipodes of our system. The
+United States stands at the political zenith; the confederate States at
+the political nadir. The Southern confederacy denies the truth of our
+system, and asserts that political equality is a fiction and
+foolishness. To it, indeed, political equality is a stumbling block; for
+the confederate constitution bases itself openly and unblushingly on the
+principle of property in man. It has been blasphemously announced that
+this is the stone which the builders of our government refused, and that
+it is now become the headstone of the corner of a divinely instituted
+nation. The blasphemy that hesitated not to declare John Brown equal
+with Jesus Christ, is hardly worse than this; for John Brown was, at
+least, an honest fanatic. The traitorous chiefs of the Southern
+rebellion are neither fanatics nor honest men. They have stifled the
+voice of conscience, and are bad men.</p>
+
+<p>If their scheme of society is true, then our faith in God, and our faith
+in man as the child of God, are false faiths; 'and we are found false
+witnesses of God.' For it has been common hitherto to believe in the
+loftiest capacities of man, as the child of God, and made in the divine
+image; and this belief has had the sanction of all ages. Cheered and
+strengthened by such a belief, men have struggled bravely and steadily
+against priestcraft and kingcraft, against the absolutism of power in
+every form. The magnificent ideal of a government which the masses of
+mankind should themselves establish and uphold, has been the quickening
+life of all republics since time began. It is the noblest of optimisms;
+and, like religion, has never been without a witness in the human soul,
+ever inspiring the genius of prophecy and song, ever moving the great
+instincts of humanity. Science, fathoming all things, gave expression to
+this instinct and hope and belief of the ages in the principle of
+political equality as a basis of government. It is, in other words, the
+science of political self-government. It was reserved for the nineteenth
+century to develop the idea, for the American nation to illustrate its
+practical power and its splendid possibilities. The question of man's
+capacity for self-government in at issue now in the contest between the
+North and South, and its champion is the North.</p>
+
+
+<h3>II. THE IDEA OF NATIONALITY.</h3>
+
+<p>There is another idea involved in this war; and, unlike the idea of
+political equality, it is sanctioned by the precedents of all ages and
+all nations, so as to preclude any possibility that it should now be
+disputed. It bases itself on that principle of order which is heaven's
+first law, and so commends itself to men as the fitting first law of
+society. It is the idea of nationality; in a word, of government. Like
+the idea of political equality, it also finds its champion in the North.</p>
+
+<p>The Southern confederacy is the organized protest of anarchy against
+law. It represents in politics that doctrine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581">[Pg 581]</a></span> in religious thought which
+declares every man a law unto himself. It kicks against the restraints
+of constitutions and laws, declaring virtually that when a law, or a
+constitution ordaining laws, ceases to be agreeable, its binding force
+is gone. For a similar and equally valid reason, some men (and, alas!
+some women), disregarding the solemn sanctions of the marriage tie, have
+been willing to set aside this first law of the family and of home. The
+Southern confederacy also makes light of national agreements, disposing
+of them according to the facile doctrine of repudiation, which its
+perjured chief once adopted as the basis of a system of state finance.
+It is eminently in accordance with the fitness of things, that the man
+who could counsel his State to repudiate its bonds, should stand at the
+head of a confederacy which began its existence by repudiating the
+sacred agreement to which the faith and fortune of all its members were
+solemnly pledged, and under the broad shield of whose protection they
+had grown prosperous and powerful. If one may be permitted to express an
+opinion different from Mr. Stephens's, it might be said that the corner
+stone of the Southern confederacy is properly repudiation. On the other
+hand, the cause of the United States is the cause of order. It is also
+the cause of freedom.</p>
+
+<p>It is important to note the union of these two forces of civilization;
+for hitherto, in the great wars of history, liberty has generally
+opposed itself to order, and has too often seemed to be synonymous with
+anarchy. The passions of the masses have too often burst forth, in great
+revolutions, like volcanic eruptions, carrying devastation and
+destruction in their path; The French Revolution stands for the type and
+instance of all these terrible catastrophes. This war of ours presents a
+different spectacle; for in the maintenance of it the two principles of
+freedom and order go hand in hand. It is this union of them which
+demands for the United States, in this contest, the support of both the
+great parties of civilization&mdash;the conservatives and the radicals. It
+is, therefore, pre&euml;minently a just war, because waged in the combined
+interests of liberty and order.</p>
+
+<p>But, it is objected, you, in effect, deny the right of revolution. No;
+on the contrary, we establish it. For the right of revolution is no
+right for any people unless they have wrongs. The right of revolution is
+not an absolute, it is a relative right. Like all such rights, it has
+its limitations&mdash;the limitation of the public law and the public
+conscience. For neither the public law nor the public conscience
+sanctions revolution for the sole sake of revolution. That brave old
+revolutionist of early Rome, Brutus, understood this well, and though
+his country was groaning under the oppression of Tarquin, he sighed for
+'a cause.' There must be a cause for revolution, and such a cause as
+will commend itself to men's consciences, as well as to the just
+principles of law and equity.</p>
+
+<p>Some men seem to think that revolution is, of itself, a blessed thing.
+They love change in government for the sake of change. When Julius C&aelig;sar
+invaded Gaul he found just such men, and he characterized them, in his
+terse military way, as those who 'studied new things,' that is, desired
+constantly a renewal of public affairs, or renovation of government. He
+found these men, moreover, his most ready tools, even in his designs
+against their country's liberties; and it would seem as though this
+revolutionary characteristic of the early inhabitants of Gaul had
+remained impressed upon their descendants ever since.</p>
+
+<p>We repeat that the right of revolution is a limited right. An absolute
+and unlimited right of revolution would only be the other extreme of an
+absolute and unlimited government; and this is not the age of absolutism
+in matters of government. Just as absolute liberty is an impracticable
+thing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582">[Pg 582]</a></span> in the present constitution of human beings, so the absolute
+right of revolution, which derives its highest title from the sacred
+right of liberty, is equally impracticable. We must be careful how we
+use these words liberty and revolution. Words are things in a time of
+earnest work like the present. The war is settling the old scholastic
+dispute for us, and is making us all realists. Liberty and loyalty and
+law are no longer brave words merely: they are things, and things of
+tremendous power; and some men slink away from them. But we need to
+remember that liberty does not mean license. The political liberty of
+our time, testing the truth of our representative democracy, is
+constitutional liberty. It presupposes an organic law, giving force and
+effect to it: and without this organic law, liberty is a delusion and a
+dream&mdash;a vague unsubstantiality. Liberty is like the lightning. To be
+made an agent of man's political salvation, it must be brought down from
+its home in the clouds, and put under the restraints and checks of
+institutions. The institutions protect it; it sanctifies the
+institutions. In its unchecked power, like the lightning, it annihilates
+and overwhelms man. Unchecked, it becomes a reckless license, disgracing
+history and its own fair name with such scenes as the French Revolution,
+and causing the martyred defenders of its sacred majesty to cry out, in
+bitter agony of disappointment: 'O Liberty, what crimes are committed in
+thy name!'</p>
+
+<p>In fact, the liberty that is valuable is the liberty that is regulated
+by law; just as the law that is valuable is the law that has the spirit
+of liberty. This is the American doctrine of constitutional liberty, as
+it has ever been expounded by our great statesmen and orators; and it
+commends itself to the sound sense of all reflecting men.</p>
+
+<p>In seeking, therefore, to subvert our Constitution, the South attack the
+principle of liberty, which is the basis of it, and which it guarantees.
+More than this, they attack the principle of constitutional liberty; for
+their secession is in virtue of that unchecked liberty which is license,
+that absolute liberty which is anarchy. They are not contending for the
+sacred right of revolution. It is treason against that majestic
+principle to apply it to the cause of the South. They were not
+oppressed; they were not even controlled by a dominant party opposed to
+them; their will was almost law, for it made our laws. According to the
+<i>theory</i> of our Constitution, they possessed equal rights with all other
+sections of the Union; under the <i>practice</i> of it, and in <i>fact</i>, they
+had gradually come to possess and were actually wielding greater power
+than all other sections. It is thus seen how vain and absurd is the plea
+that they were driven into revolution to redress wrongs, or that they
+revolted and seceded for the purpose of preserving rights. Their rights
+were neither actually assailed, nor were likely to be assailed. The
+protest of that eminent statesman of the South who afterward ('oh, what
+a fall was there, my countrymen!') became the second officer of its
+traitorous government, is conclusive evidence on this point. The
+Southern rebellion is simply and entirely the effort to secure exclusive
+control where formerly the South had a joint control. Robert Toombs
+said, in a conversation, in Georgia, in the winter of 1860-'61: 'We
+intend, sir, to have a government of our own and we won't have any
+compromises.' To the same import is the letter of Mason to Davis, in
+1856, which has lately seen the light. To one not blinded by prejudice,
+indeed, the evidences are overwhelming of a long-plotted conspiracy on
+the part of certain leading politicians, without the knowledge and
+contrary to the known intentions of the Southern people. The Southern
+rebellion is simply the attempt to break up a constitutional government,
+by politicians who had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583">[Pg 583]</a></span> become dissatisfied with the natural and
+inevitable workings and tendencies of it, even though administered by
+themselves. It is simply, therefore, the question of anarchy that we
+have to deal with. Therefore, we say that the North is fighting for the
+idea of government.</p>
+
+<p>We are not seeking to perpetuate oppressive power. On the other hand,
+the rebellion is a flagrant attempt to organize oppression. We are
+seeking to perpetuate power, it is true, but a power which has stood for
+nearly a hundred years, and must continue to stand, if it stand at all,
+as a bulwark against oppression. We are vindicating our right to be, as
+a nation. We are proving our title to rank among the powers of the
+earth. We are vindicating the majesty of our supreme organic law. That
+supreme organic law is the Constitution. It ordains for itself a method
+of amendment, so as to leave no right of revolution against it. It
+admits no right of revolution, because in ordaining and establishing it
+the parties to it expressly merged that right in another principle,
+adopted to avoid the necessity of a resort to revolution. In other
+words, the right of revolution is in our Constitution exalted into the
+peaceful principle of amendment. Instead, therefore, of really being
+denied, the right of revolution is, indeed, enlarged and consecrated in
+our system of government, which rests upon that right. In vindicating
+and maintaining, therefore, that system, we vindicate and maintain with
+it the right of revolution. But we deny any such thing as a right of
+revolution for the sole sake of revolution; because it leads to anarchy.
+We deny the right of revolution for the sake of oppression; because it
+leads to absolutism. Revolution in the interests of order, justice, and
+freedom, we hold to be the only right worthy of the name, and God help
+our nation never to oppose such a revolution!</p>
+
+<p>Since the foregoing was written, an article in <i>Frazer's Magazine</i>, for
+last October, has fallen under the writer's notice, which discusses the
+point under consideration, and expresses similar views with those here
+stated. An extract from it is given to show how the question is viewed
+from a British stand-point:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'The principle of American independence was, that when a
+considerable body of men are badly governed and oppressed by a
+government under which they live, they have a right to resist and
+withdraw from it; and unless everything in the history of England
+of which we have been accustomed to boast, from Magna Charta to the
+Reform Bill, was a crime, this principle is perfectly true. To deny
+to the United States, as most of our public writers did deny to
+them, the right of putting down resistance not justified by
+oppression, and to impose upon them the duty of submitting at once
+to any resistance whatsoever, whether justified or not, was
+equivalent to maintaining that chronic anarchy was the only state
+of things which could exist in North America.'</p></div>
+
+<p>It is refreshing to read in a British periodical so clear a statement of
+this just distinction. We cannot forbear to cite another extract from
+the same article, because it confirms so clearly the argument of this
+paper:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'The Dutch fought the Spaniards for their hearths, homes, and
+churches; the French fought all Europe with famine and the
+guillotine behind them, and empire and plenty in front. The English
+in India had the pride of superior race and the memory of
+inexpiable injuries to urge them against the Sepoys; but if ever a
+nation in this world sacrificed itself deliberately and manfully to
+an idea, this has been the case with the Americans.'</p></div>
+
+<p>What is this idea to which we have thus bravely sacrificed ourselves,
+even a phlegmatic Englishman being the judge? It is the idea of the
+nation&mdash;the idea that the nation is the gift of God, to be cherished and
+defended as a sacred trust; and that we can no more rid ourselves of its
+obligations than we can rid ourselves of the obligations of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_584" id="Page_584">[Pg 584]</a></span> home or the
+church. To the reckless assertion of those who say that the United
+States is, in this war, actuated by the lust for power, and is not moved
+by the inspiration of great ideas, we oppose the foregoing candid
+statement of a third party, and one not very likely to be prejudiced in
+our favor. It is the testimony of an unwilling witness, and therefore of
+great weight.</p>
+
+<p>Summing up the points that have been considered in this paper, it seems
+clear that so far as the war is a contest for ideas, the North, standing
+for the United States, has the right of it. For, first, we contend for
+political equality, the grand idea of the age and the ages;
+comprehending within itself, and presupposing, as a logical premise, the
+grander idea of liberty. Thus also we vindicate the rights of man, as a
+fact of government and as a principle of political philosophy. And,
+secondly, we contend for the sacred right of order, as opposed to the
+destructive radicalism of revolution for the sake of oppression and not
+in the name of liberty.</p>
+
+<p>We believe that our nation has been born, in the providence of God, to
+the magnificent mission of developing the democratic idea, of the rule
+of the people&mdash;the idea that every man is a king, and that humanity
+itself is royal because made in the image of God. The nation is now
+vindicating that mission before the world. In the success of it all the
+great ideas that cheer on our poor humanity in its toiling
+march&mdash;liberty, justice, political order&mdash;confirmed and made sure by a
+government organized for the purpose of securing and maintaining them,
+are bound up; and&mdash;with that mission those ideas, as organized powers,
+must live or die.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="HINTS_TO_THE_AMERICAN_FARMER" id="HINTS_TO_THE_AMERICAN_FARMER"></a>HINTS TO THE AMERICAN FARMER.</h2>
+
+
+<p>It does not so much signify what a man does for a livelihood, provided
+he does it well. The people must sooner or later learn this catholic
+doctrine, or one element of republicanism will never be knit into our
+character. The doing it well is the essential point, whether one builds
+a ship or writes a poem. Does the American farmer do his work well? And,
+if not, wherewith shall he be advised, persuaded, encouraged, and taught
+to do better or the best?</p>
+
+<p>It is estimated that three fourths of the people of the United States
+are agriculturists, and nearly all the rest laborers of some sort
+dependent upon them. Every economist knows that the interests of
+agriculture, manufactures, and commerce are one and indivisible. He who
+by word or deed helps one, helps all, and thereby moves civilization
+onward one step at least. Before our Government takes hold of the
+condition of agriculture in the United States as a state measure, and
+even after it comes up to the hour when we shall have a Secretary of
+Agriculture, Manufactures, and Commerce in the cabinet, after the manner
+of France, Italy, and Prussia, the farmer himself, individually, must
+work some important and radical changes in his social and industrial
+polity, and prepare himself for the generous assistance of a wise and
+beneficent Government.</p>
+
+<p>The farmer supports every other material interest. Standing upon the
+primary strata of civilization, he bears on his broad hands and stout
+shoulders the 'weight of mightiest monarchies.' Daniel Webster calls him
+'the founder of civilization.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_585" id="Page_585">[Pg 585]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Is it at all necessary that the spring in the hills should be cool,
+clear, and pure, and wind its way over a granitic soil, through green
+meadows, beneath the shading forest, into a sandy basin, to form a
+beautiful lake in a retired, rural retreat? If so, is it at all
+necessary that the moral virtues of the founders of society should be
+duly educated, cultured into the soul, leaving the impress on generation
+after generation, of honor, of order, of manliness, of thrift? The
+condition of the farmers is the postulate by which the sagacious
+economist will foretell the future prosperity of the nation they
+represent. This is what the American farmer should have presented to him
+from every stand-point. It is lamentable that this vocation should be so
+sadly represented by the most of those who are engaged in it.</p>
+
+<p>This occupation of farming is the noblest work which can engage the
+attention of man. Off of his farm, whether it be large or small, the
+farmer, by diligent and intelligent cultivation, can gather whatever he
+or the world needs; what the world needs for its manufactures and
+commerce; what he needs for his personal comfort, pleasure, or the
+gratification of his natural tastes;&mdash;the two crops which furnish the
+daily bread to the material and spiritual nature of man;&mdash;the green
+fields, than which nothing is more beautiful; the sweet song of birds,
+their gay plumage, their happy conferences, their winged life, making
+melodious the woods and fields; the sky, ever above us, ever changing,
+grand at morning, magnificent at evening, hanging like a gracious
+benediction over us; the flowers, ever opening their petals to the sun,
+turning their beauty on the air, to delight, instruct, and bless
+mankind;&mdash;indulging his taste for art, in the plan of his farm and
+buildings, their claims to architectural skill; in the planting of his
+fruit and ornamental trees, 'in groves, in lines, in copses;' in the
+form and make of his fishponds, shady walks, grottos, or rural seats for
+quiet resort for study, comfort, pleasure, or rest.</p>
+
+<p>The ancients paid great attention to the cultivation of the earth. Many
+of the best men of Greece were agriculturists. Mind was given to it, and
+great progress was made in the improvement of implements; in the method
+of cultivation, and in the additional yield of their farms. The Romans
+continued for a long period to improve on the state of agriculture as
+they received it from the Grecians, until the political condition of
+their country destroyed all freedom and independence of action and
+thought. The best and greatest men of all ages and countries, statesmen,
+scholars, kings, and presidents, have loved it, followed it, and labored
+for its advancement. Do noble minds stoop to ignoble vocations, and
+become identified with them? This nation, not yet a century old, can
+boast, as among the statesmen-farmers, of Washington, Adams, Jefferson,
+Patrick Henry, Franklin, Jackson, Calhoun, Clay, and Webster, and many
+others, the least of whose greatness of character was not that they
+loved nature, or knew the charm of agricultural pursuits. The occupation
+has become sanctified by their devotion to it.</p>
+
+<p>We all know the sympathy and love of the late lamented Prince Albert for
+the vocation of farming, and the liberality with which, on his model
+farm, experiments were verified which in any manner might contribute to
+the interests of the farmer. He even entered the lists for the prize for
+the best stock at the yearly exhibitions of the Royal Agricultural
+Society. There is something very suggestive of nobility in this vocation
+of farming, when the brightest intellects of the nation bow in homage to
+the strength of mother earth, and seek by severe thought, study, and
+experiment, to assist a further yield of her kindly fruits, or persuade
+her to bestow a portion of her bounties, so long withheld, upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_586" id="Page_586">[Pg 586]</a></span>
+wooing husbandman. It marks agriculture as the first and highest calling
+for the development in the highest degree of the nation and of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>Every man may have his plot of ground, in the cultivation and adornment
+of which he may realize the pleasure which accompanies the calling of
+amateur farmer, horticulturist, or florist, in which he is in constant
+communication with nature and her beauty. 'In it there is no corruption,
+but rather goodness.'</p>
+
+<p>How kindly nature seems to have dealt with some of the old farmers who
+even now tread the broad earth, beloved and reverenced by all who know
+them! What simplicity and purity of speech; what honesty of manner; what
+kind dispositions; what charity of judgment; what tenderness of heart;
+what nobility of soul seem to have concentrated in each one of them!
+They are the gifts of nature, gathered, developed, interpreted,
+personified in man. They are our aristocracy. From them through
+generation after generation shall flow the pure blood of the best men in
+republican America. Ages hence, the children who enjoy the privileges of
+this republic, and endeavor to trace their lineage through history to
+find the fountain of their present American stock, will as surely meet
+with no unpleasant encounter, nor be compelled to forego the search from
+fear of mortification, as they trace their family line through long
+generations of intelligent American farmers. Superficial 'Young America'
+and 'our best society' may smirk, snicker, sneer, and live on, slaves to
+fashion and the whims of Mrs. Grundy, in their fancied secure social
+position for all time. But ere long the balance of man's better
+judgment, the best society of great men, and representatives for history
+of a great people, will weigh in opposite scales the artificialities,
+the formalities, the selfishness of popular social circles, against the
+honesty, the naturalness, the simplicity, the worth of the practical
+lovers of nature; and the result shall be the inscription upon the wall
+which made their prototypes of old tremble, reflecting upon them also
+its ghostly and terrific glare. Were it not for the infusion almost
+constantly going on, from the country, of fresh blood into the veins of
+the diseased body politic in our largest cities, destruction, disgrace,
+and financial ruin would early mark the spot where once flourished a
+proud and sinful people.</p>
+
+<p>In farming, man has to do with nature. Out of doors he spends the
+greater portion of his life. His intelligent eye takes in the beautiful
+objects of land and sky, sea and mountain; his refined ear, by practice
+and cultivation, delights in the exquisite harmony of the birds, the
+music of the wind, the murmuring of the sea, the sighing amid the
+forests;&mdash;the beauty of the flowers, springing in the utmost profusion
+at his feet&mdash;peeping at early spring from beneath the lately fallen
+snow, an earnest that life yet remains under the clods of apparently
+exhausted nature&mdash;their continued offerings through the long and sultry
+days of summer; the trees putting on their rich and glowing robes at
+autumn, ripening for their restoration to the bosom which gave them life
+and which yielded them to us for a season, clothing all the hills,
+valleys, and mountains with the gorgeous colors from 'nature's royal
+laboratory.' Who can say this beauty and this pleasure are for nought?
+The intelligence which observes and loves these sights hesitates not,
+nor can it be deterred from reflecting upon their Source. The farmer,
+turning the sod with the plough, and dropping the grain into the newly
+turned furrow, expects life amid the decay of the clod. The favorable
+sunshine and shower, the gentle dews and heat of summer bring forth,
+after a partial decay of the seed, the blade, the ear, and after that
+the full corn in the ear. The perfume of the newly turned earth
+exhilarates and refreshes the spirits of the laborer and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_587" id="Page_587">[Pg 587]</a></span> what appears
+the hardest work becomes a welcome task. Toil here has its immediate
+recompense. Always peaceful, always contented and cheerful, always kind,
+there is no want of companions whose presence is delightful and never
+burdensome. The oriole, the swallow, the sparrow, the cawing crow, the
+chipmuck, or the squirrel will not desert him. He can always rely upon
+their presence while engaged in the necessary preparation for the
+harvest. The flowers are with him, and the perfume from the blossoms in
+the fields and orchard will fall like incense upon his receptive spirit.
+His thoughts will turn involuntarily to the Origin of all Good, from
+which have come to him, in so great abundance, the favorable conditions
+for happiness and peace.</p>
+
+<p>Contemplating in silence and alone, away from the distractions of busy
+life in cities, the disappointments of politics, and the petty
+disturbances and quarrels of a more crowded existence, his thoughts
+become pure, holy, and sacred.</p>
+
+<p>The tree grows slowly but surely beside his door, under whose shadows he
+has rested at the close of the summer's day, and, with his family about
+him, reflected upon his finished labors, and planned the work for
+to-morrow. The wonderful power of the Creator, and the matchless
+argument for His existence, as displayed in the beauty of the heavens,
+are spread before him. Its presence is a blessing to him. This tree, a
+century ago the tiny seed of the beautiful elm, which floated perhaps on
+some zephyr, or, tossed by some summer gale, dropped noiselessly into
+its cradle at this door&mdash;fortune favored its growth, and protected it
+from the injuries of chance or intent. It patiently grew and spread its
+hospitable arms, as if to embrace the surrounding neighborhood, and is
+now a protection and safeguard, a blessing and a continued promise of
+the watchfulness and care of the Father. This honest, grateful, simple
+soul has learned from it the beauty of a patient spirit. It has been
+always to him the generous companion of his weary moments, never failing
+to return at spring the beauty so ruthlessly torn at autumn; rendering
+to his just soul the contentment of the well-doer in this world's works,
+yet still progressing, growing, and enlarging in its sphere of
+usefulness and trust.</p>
+
+<p>The regularity in the procession of the seasons, the dependence and
+faith inculcated by their never-failing return of the bounties asked of
+them for his proper observance of their demands, have rendered order a
+controlling power with him, and punctuality has become a virtue.</p>
+
+<p>The large independence of the concerns of men has not made him
+autocratic in manner, nor indifferent to progress in the condition of
+mankind. Faithful to the duties of the good citizen, and to himself, he
+has not forgotten his moral duties toward the social polity, and neither
+state, nor church, nor school, nor family, but feels the influence of
+his tender care. Health has been always with him and on his side.
+Cleanliness is throughout his household, and scrupulous care of the
+manners, neatness, and thrift which make a good farmer's home so
+cheerful, is his.</p>
+
+<p>Such is the intelligent, patient, thorough cultivator of the soil. Is
+there not a nobility of nature in it, far surpassing that which the
+false standard of society gives to man? What profession, business, or
+vocation of any sort engaged in by man, carries in its legitimate course
+these joys, this peacefulness, this hope? Here are not the anxieties,
+nor perplexities, nor fears, nor losses attendant upon the occupations
+in the more crowded haunts of business. Plenty fills his garners;
+happiness attends his footsteps; peace crowns his life.</p>
+
+<p>We would that this good soul might truly represent every farmer on our
+soil. We are compelled to acknowledge the shortcomings of this class of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_588" id="Page_588">[Pg 588]</a></span>
+persons, upon whom so much depends, and, by showing in which direction
+their prominent faults lie, endeavor to persuade them to accept a better
+standing in the social state, where they are so much needed.</p>
+
+<p>A man shows in his daily acts the early education of his home. The
+impressions there made upon him in his young and growing life are
+proverbially deep and abiding. The circumstances which develop the
+character of the good farmer in one town, are the circumstances which
+develop the good farmer wheresoever he may be; but the circumstances
+which make so many of our farmers at this day, coarse in speech, vulgar
+in manners, untidy in dress and in the arrangement of their farms and
+their habitations, ignorant, thoughtless, thriftless, indifferent,
+wasteful, lazy, are not arbitrary circumstances, but pliant and
+yielding, willing instruments, in the hands of good workmen, to raise,
+elevate, and instruct all who can be brought within their influence.</p>
+
+<p>The agriculturist who combines with his knowledge and skill in farming a
+refined taste for the simple elegancies which may form a part and parcel
+of every well-ordered homestead, will often grieve at the neglect,
+indolence, and ignorance, shown by the too sad condition of many of our
+so-called American farms.</p>
+
+<p>The farmhouse of this waste place we call a farm, is located as near as
+possible to the dusty highway which passes through the country.
+Unpainted, or unwhitewashed, without a front fence, without shade trees
+or flowers near it, or by it, it stands like a grim and sombre sentinel,
+guarding a harsh and lonely existence, at once a prophecy and a warning.
+There is no home feeling in it. Everything connected with the internal
+movements or the external management of the place is in full view: the
+woodpile with its chips scattered about over a radius of fifty yards; a
+number of old, castaway, and condemned vehicles lie where they were left
+after their last use; mounds of rubbish and old brushwood, weeds, soiled
+clothing, farming tools, and implements of husbandry, are here and
+there, uncared for, unnoticed, and neglected. The poultry, pigs, and
+cattle he possesses, wander about the door, at once front and rear, or,
+unobstructed by any serviceable fence, trespass upon the newly planted
+field or unmown meadows, getting such living as fortune places in their
+way. The barn may be without doors, the barnyard without a gate or bars,
+and in full view from every passer by. The sty and the house drain&mdash;in
+fact, every necessary out-building&mdash;is in plain sight to the public, on
+the sunny side of the house, or as near the front of it as is possible
+for circumstances to permit. The airs of summer and of autumn come to
+the delighted senses of the residents 'impregnated with the incense' of
+these sweet surroundings, which, like Gray's unseen flower, are not
+destined</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'To waste their sweetness on the desert air.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>And who are the delighted occupants of this charming spot? The external
+appearance and condition of things too sadly betray their character. The
+man is coarse and vulgar in speech and in manners; untidy, careless, and
+uncleanly in person and dress; ignorant, lazy, and perhaps intemperate,
+with no thought beyond the gratification of his bodily wants and
+desires. Slang words and obscene are his daily vocabulary; selfishness
+his best-developed trait, and want the only incentive for his labor. His
+partner is like unto him, or worse, either by nature or association.
+Without taste, modesty, good sense, or natural refinement, she
+accompanies her dear Silas in his round of life, sympathizing in his
+lowness, his common feeling, and his common complaints&mdash;slatternly in
+her dress, rude in speech, coarse in manner, slovenly in her household
+duties. These two creatures, with their children, too often call
+themselves farmers, agriculturists, or tillers of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_589" id="Page_589">[Pg 589]</a></span> soil. The poet
+Cowper well describes them in his poem representing 'the country boors'
+gathered together at tithing time at the residence of their country
+parson.</p>
+
+<p>These thriftless people complain that they can make no money on their
+farms, and but barely a living; and for the very good reason that the
+man or woman who attempts to carry on a farm in this way through the
+year deserves no money or profit, nor barely a living from such a method
+of work.</p>
+
+<p>He was born here. The new soil, at the time his father purchased it,
+gave him a living, and a good one, too; but this heir to the ancestral
+acres unfortunately married the slatternly daughter of a loafing
+neighbor, and their conservatism will not allow them to vary from the
+track of cultivation so well worn by his father, and forbids his
+learning any other methods, or accepting any new ideas from any source,
+though they may be sustained in the practical advantage gained thereby
+by the most successful farmers in his town, and may be learned any time
+from the Weekly agricultural gazette published at the capital of his
+State.</p>
+
+<p>Book farming he scouts. The books upon agriculture, which every good
+farmer should read and study, and prove, will cost him perhaps ten
+dollars. By them his farm shall become his pride, his support, his
+wealth. But this dull man cannot, or will not, learn that in the
+dreaminess of his humdrum life, passed for thirty years or more upon his
+farm, capital, industry, science, thought, and study have been at work,
+and everything has been done, thus far, which can be done to make the
+earth more gladsome, and the hearts of the children of men more thankful
+to the Giver and Bestower of all our blessings. Away, then, with this
+cant, prejudice, and sneering about 'book farming.' As well cry out
+against book geography, or book philosophy, or book history, or book
+law. Chemistry, botany, entomology, and pomology unite the results of
+their researches in their various directions, and, while seeking
+apparently different ends, yet converge toward the grand centre of a
+systematic and scientific agriculture.</p>
+
+<p>This laggard has not yet learned that it is his business and duty to
+cultivate the earth, and not exhaust it; to get two blades of grass this
+year where but one blade grew before; to gather thirty bushels of corn
+from the acre which produced but twenty bushels last year; to shear
+three pounds of wool off the sheep which five years ago gave but two
+pounds, and so on. He thinks to see how near the agricultural wind he
+can move and his sails not shake, or with how little labor he can carry
+his farm through the year and not starve. The poverty of the whole
+establishment, man and wife, and children, and stock, their
+uncleanliness and unhealthfulness, are but the just results of such a
+mode of living. They have their deserts. 'Ye cannot gather grapes of
+thorns, nor figs of thistles.'</p>
+
+<p>This illustration may seem exaggerated, the example too extreme. We
+would that its semblance could not be seen in all wide America.</p>
+
+<p>What power, what influences, or what teachings will work the change in
+the habits of life of those who thus pretend to cultivate the earth?
+What shall bring them to a clearer realization of their position, their
+duties, their opportunities, their prospects? This lethargy of
+ignorance, indifference, and laziness must be shaken off and laid aside
+in the immediate future, by study and education, by active interest and
+participation in every discovery or invention which benefits
+agriculture; by the exercise of sound judgment in the choice of stock or
+crops for the farm; by economy in the disposition of everything
+available upon the estate which may be brought into profitable employ;
+by thrift in every operation which concerns the success of the vocation
+as tillers of the soil, and by temperance and frugality in the habits
+and character<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_590" id="Page_590">[Pg 590]</a></span> of the family living. 'Concentrate your labor, not
+scatter it; estimate duly the superior profit of a little farm well
+tilled, over a great farm half cultivated and half manured, overrun with
+weeds, and scourged with exhausting crops: so we shall fill our barns,
+double the winter fodder for our cattle and sheep, by the products of
+these waste meadows. Thus shall our cultivation become like that of
+England, more systematic, scientific, and exact.'</p>
+
+<p>An Englishman belies one of the best traits of his national character if
+he denies himself all participation in rural life. It is a part of
+greatness to seek a gratification of this innate longing for 'the
+pursuit which is most conducive to virtue and happiness.' Edmund Burke,
+the patriotic and most philosophical statesman of England, writing to a
+friend in 1798, says:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>'I have just made a push, with all I could collect of my own and
+the aid of my friends, to cast a little root in the country. I have
+purchased about six hundred acres of land in Buckinghamshire, about
+twenty-four miles from London. It is a place exceedingly pleasant,
+and I propose, God willing, to become a farmer in good earnest.'</p></div>
+
+<p>Great skill, ingenuity, and success in cattle breeding, and in drainage,
+have resulted, in England, from a long series of experiments, extending
+through many years; and great and wonderful progress in the discovery
+and analysis of soils and manures. The scientific men of France and
+Germany have also added much to this invaluable information of how to
+get more bread and meat from the earth, and do much, in their researches
+in the direction of pomology and entomology, to increase the
+agricultural knowledge of the world. America gladly tenders her most
+gracious homage to these devoted men, and hastens to add her leaf to the
+chaplet which binds their brow. It is to their persistent efforts, to
+their unshaken faith, that 'agriculture has become elevated to the
+dignity of a science.'</p>
+
+<p>This vocation of farming in good earnest, with success and profit, is
+not fun, but downright work. It is work, but no more persistent,
+constant, studious, or thoughtful than that which is demanded by any of
+the other callings in life, none of which has or can have such
+delightful compensations as this. Careful experiments should be made in
+chemistry, analyzing thereby each germ, plant, flower, and fruit into
+its component parts; analyzing the soil of our farms, and learning
+thereby its various wants, its value, and what crop it will best
+support, and of which it will give the largest yield; teaching us what
+manures are the most valuable, how prepared, and how to be used for the
+greatest profit. Botany and entomology can unite their labors and
+discover the germs and development of our grasses, and the insects which
+feed upon and destroy them; ornithology will teach us the habits of
+birds, and their value to us as protectors of our gardens and fields;
+and pomology will instruct us in the culture of fruit. Thus shall
+science and philosophy enlarge their duties and help the farmer in his
+devotion to his noble work. The public press shall herald far and wide
+each new discovery, each new suggestion, and the results of each new
+experiment, not in the technical language of the schools, but clothed in
+the simplest vernacular, which alone can make such study valuable to
+practical men.</p>
+
+<p>Heretofore too much attention has been paid to the 'bread-producing
+capacity' of our country, to the neglect of its as necessary
+'meat-producing capacity.' Hence much of our best bread-producing soil
+is becoming exhausted. The old tenants are leaving their once fertile
+fields, now poor in soil yielding comparatively nothing, and are
+emigrating to the West, beyond the banks of the Mississippi and Missouri
+rivers, trusting that the natural richness of the 'new hunting grounds'
+they seek and find is inexhaustible. This policy has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591">[Pg 591]</a></span> made barren most
+of the State of Virginia, and has begun to tell sadly, in the diminished
+crops, upon the farming districts of Ohio, Indiana, and the other near
+Western States.</p>
+
+<p>To be the successful introducer in a new country of a new and improved
+breed of cattle, requires capital, sound judgment, study, and patient
+toil. Much must be considered with reference to the peculiarities of the
+soil and climate, and of the animals, with regard to the object for
+which they are needed, whether the dairy, the plough, or the shambles.
+Happily, America is not without men whose wealth, intelligence, tastes,
+and sagacity have enabled them to perceive our present wants in this
+respect, and who have assisted in preparing for them. The great wealth
+of these gentlemen has been well expended in the outlay and risk
+attending the extensive and valuable importations of the best breeding
+cattle and sheep which they have made into this country from time to
+time from England and the continent of Europe. We are already reaping
+the advantages of the presence of the valuable animals embraced in these
+numerous importations. Scattered as they are throughout the country,
+infusing the best blood of Europe's choicest stock into our 'natives,'
+they so improve our cattle and sheep as to raise them to the highest
+degree of excellence and value. It is a circumstance of which every
+American may be proud, that Mr. Thorne has been so successful in
+breeding, from his imported stock, cattle which he has sent to England,
+and which have there borne off the prize as the best breeders in the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>There are no indigenous breeds of either cattle or sheep in this
+country. The only animals of the bovine race found here when this
+continent was discovered were the buffalo and the musk ox. The 'natives'
+are a heterogenous mixture of various breeds, introduced from time to
+time for different purposes, and allowed to cross and recross, breed
+in-and-in, and mingle as chance or convenience dictated. The cattle and
+sheep were procured at different times from the continent of Europe,
+from England, and the Spanish West Indies, to supply the present wants
+of labor and food. The first cattle brought here are said to have been
+introduced by Columbus. The Spaniards afterward brought over others,
+from whence no doubt sprang the wild cattle of Texas and California.
+About the year 1553, the Portuguese took cattle to Newfoundland, of
+which, however, no traces now remain; and in the year 1600, Norman
+cattle were brought into Canada. In the year 1611, Sir Thomas Gates
+brought from Devonshire and Hertfordshire one hundred head of cattle
+into Jamestown; and thirteen years later, Thomas Winslow imported a bull
+and three heifers into Massachusetts. Thus was begun the importation of
+cattle for service and food into this country, which has continued to
+this day, not always, however, with the just discrimination as to the
+geographical and climatic peculiarities of the different animals which
+was and is necessary for the highest success of the movement. Happily,
+the various agricultural societies and publications, contributed to and
+supported by our most intelligent farmers, are diffusing wider and
+wider, each year, more scientific and thorough notions upon this subject
+of breeding, among our agricultural citizens. An admirable and carefully
+written article upon 'Select Breeds of Cattle and their Adaptation to
+the United States,' appeared in the United States Patent Office Report
+for 1861, to which we would call our readers' attention. It should be
+studied by every person interested in the economical prosperity of our
+country. It conveys, in a simple and perspicuous style, the results of
+the various experiments in breeding, in both England and America, which
+latterly have become so judicious and accurate as to be now almost based
+upon principle. Hereafter there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592">[Pg 592]</a></span> will be no apology, but that of
+stupidity and ignorance, for the farmers who neglect the most obvious
+rules of success in their occupation. The idea, now become well known,
+must become a fact with them, and they must raise no more poor horses or
+cattle or sheep, because it costs no more to raise good ones, which are
+much more profitable either for the dairy, for service, or for meat.</p>
+
+<p>'Animals are to be looked upon as machines for converting herbage into
+money,' says Daniel Webster. 'The great fact to be considered is, how
+can we manage our farms so as to produce the largest crops, and still
+keep up the condition of our land, and, if possible, place it in course
+of gradual improvement? The success must depend in a great degree upon
+the animals raised and supported on the farm.'</p>
+
+<p>It is auspicious for our country that the interest in sheep raising is
+becoming wider and deeper. 'The value of wool imported into the United
+States, in 1861 was nearly five millions of dollars. The value of
+imported manufactured woollen goods was more than twenty-eight millions
+of dollars, less by nearly ten millions of dollars than the importations
+of 1860. Taking the last three years as a basis of calculation, we have
+had an annual importation of from thirty-five to forty-five millions of
+pounds of manufactured and unmanufactured wool, being the product of
+thirteen millions of sheep.' The annual increase of population in the
+United States requires the wool from more than three million sheep.
+There is an annual deficiency of wool of from forty to fifty millions of
+pounds, so there need be no fear of glutting the market by our own
+production. The investigation might be extended much further. It remains
+for the farmers and legislators to see to it that we receive no
+detriment by the long continuance of this home demand without the home
+supply. The instrument is in their own hands.</p>
+
+<p>Our farmers must teach their children the potential influence of
+kindness to dumb animals and to birds. By it they will conquer what of
+viciousness, ugliness, or wildness is often the character of their
+beasts of burden; and they will find, by the almost total eradication of
+the destructive flies and insects which are the scourge of their crops,
+the value of the lives of birds and toads to their farms. Setting aside
+for the present the consideration of the moral virtues which are thus
+inculcated, and which are so consistent with a proper devotion to this
+'benign art of peace,' we mention a few facts which carry the argument
+for their worth in themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The birds and toads devour insects, worms, and grubs, and wherever they
+are absent, grubs, worms, and insects are greatly multiplied, and the
+crops suffer. The harvests of France, in 1861, suffered so by the
+ravages of the insects which it is the function of certain birds to
+destroy, that the subject attracted the notice of the Government, and a
+commission was appointed to inquire into the matter and report what
+legislation was expedient. The commission had the aid of the experience
+of the best naturalists of France, M. St. Hilaire, M. Prevost, and
+others. Their preliminary report gives three classifications of birds:
+First, those which live exclusively upon insects and grubs; second,
+those which live partly upon grubs and partly upon grain, doing some
+damage, but providing an abundant compensation; third, the birds of
+prey, which are excepted from the category of benefactors, and are
+pronounced to be noxious, inasmuch as they live mostly upon the smaller
+birds. If the arrangements of nature were left wholly undisturbed, the
+result would be a wholesome equilibrium of destruction. The birds would
+kill so many insects that the insects could not kill too many plants.
+One class is a match for the other. A certain insect was found to lay
+two thousand eggs, but a single tomtit was found to eat two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593">[Pg 593]</a></span> hundred
+thousand eggs a year. A swallow devours about five hundred insects a
+day, eggs and all. A sparrow's nest in the city of Paris was found to
+contain seven hundred pairs of the upper wings of cockchafers. It is
+easy to see what an excess of insect life is produced when a
+counterpoise like this is withdrawn; and the statistics collected show
+clearly to what an extent the balance of nature has been disturbed. Thus
+the value of wheat destroyed in a single season, in one department of
+the east of France, by the <i>cicidomigie</i>, has been estimated at eight
+hundred thousand dollars.</p>
+
+<p>The cause of this is very soon told. The French eat the birds. The
+commissioners, in their report, present some curious statistics
+respecting the extent to which the destruction of birds in France has of
+late been carried. They state 'that there are great numbers of
+professional huntsmen, who are accustomed to kill from one hundred to
+two hundred birds daily; a single child has been known to come home at
+night with one hundred birds' eggs; and it is also calculated and
+reported that the number of birds' eggs destroyed annually in France is
+between eighty millions and one hundred millions. The result is that the
+small birds in that country are actually dying out; some species have
+already disappeared, while others are rapidly diminishing.' These facts
+contain valuable suggestions to our own countrymen. In this instance, as
+in many such like, observation is a better and more profitable master
+than experience.</p>
+
+<p>Our farmers can increase the value of their estates, and bring pleasure
+and peace to their homes, by more special attention to the outward
+adornment of their dwellings; by cultivating a garden, planting orchards
+of the best selected fruit, and trees for shade, shelter, and ornament,
+about their farms and along the adjoining highway. He who plants a tree,
+thereby gives hostages to life, but he who cuts one down needlessly, is
+a Vandal, and deserves the execration of every honest man for all time.
+Learn not to value the bearded elm, 'the murmuring pines and the
+hemlocks,' the stalwart oak, or the beautiful maple, by cubic measure,
+but by the 'height of the great argument' they force upon us by their
+presence, their beauty, and their power. Plant for to-day, and for your
+children; plant 'for another age,' and thereby do 'a good office' to the
+coming generations of men. No man but is better for living in the
+presence of great trees. In one of those most delightful volumes of the
+<i>Spectator</i>, we find a paper, written by the pure and noble Joseph
+Addison, in which are well told the pleasures and profits of planting:
+'It must,' he says, 'be confessed that this is none of those turbulent
+pleasures which are apt to gratify a man in the heats of youth; but if
+it be not so tumultuous, it is more lasting. Nothing can be more
+delightful than to entertain ourselves with prospects of our own making,
+and to walk under those shades which our own industry has raised.
+Amusements of this nature compose the mind, and lay at rest all those
+passions which are uneasy to the soul of man, besides that they
+naturally engender good thoughts, and dispose us to laudable
+contemplations.'</p>
+
+<p>What charming associations linger about the homes of the great men of
+our history, whose tastes led them into the country! The grand old trees
+at 'Monticello,' at 'Ashland,' at 'Fort Hill,' at the 'Hermitage,' at
+'Sunnyside,' at Cooperstown, at Marshfield, at Mount Vernon, seem to
+take upon themselves somewhat of 'the voice of the old hospitality'
+which graced their presence in the days that are passed; and the visitor
+now wanders with emotions of awe and sadness, in paths by copses and
+groves and streams, in those quiet retreats of nature, planted and
+preserved by the noble souls which loved them so wisely and so well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_594" id="Page_594">[Pg 594]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Place the dwelling at a distance from the road, and in the position, if
+possible, from whence the best view of the whole farm can be obtained,
+mindful also of the charms which nature has spread before you, of
+mountain, or hill, or plain, or river, or sea. Plant the orchard on a
+slope toward the south, and not too far away. The barn and yard and
+outbuildings should be behind the house, or far enough away to protect
+the inmates from any annoyance therefrom. Let the approach to the house
+be by a long avenue, bordered by majestic trees, planted by your own
+hands. The lawn or garden should be well cared for in front. The
+buildings should be painted or whitewashed, and over the house may
+clamber and beautify it the woodbine, the jessamine, the honeysuckle, or
+the rose. What attachments to the homestead shall thus inweave
+themselves about the hearts of those whose interests and life are cast
+with it&mdash;and still more, of those who go forth from it, by taste,
+inclination, or bias, into the more bustling centres of competition and
+trade!</p>
+
+<p>The garden should receive a careful and generous attention from the
+female portion of the household. Says Lord Bacon: 'God Almighty first
+planted a garden; and indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is
+the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man; without which buildings
+and palaces are but gross handyworks; and a man shall ever see that when
+ages grow to civility and elegance, men come to build stately sooner
+than to garden finely; as if gardening were the greater perfection. I do
+hold it in the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be gardens for
+all the months in the year; in which severally things of beauty may be
+there in season.'</p>
+
+<p>Following Lord Bacon's advice, let there be such a plan and arrangement
+of it, that it shall always be attractive, and yield a continual round
+of beauty through the year. Thus planted, the garden 'will inspire the
+purest and most refined pleasures, and cannot fail to promote every good
+affection.'</p>
+
+<p>With all the advantages which the discoveries of natural science offer
+to the farmer of this century, it will little avail his successors
+unless he strives to educate his children. It is a very mistaken and
+lamentable notion&mdash;now, alas! too prevalent&mdash;that a liberal education is
+necessary alone to those who intend to enter upon a professional life.
+May the time be not far distant when farming may become a profession
+which takes its rank with the rest, if it does not lead them, in the
+public opinion. It was first supposed, very singularly, that the clergy
+ought only to be favored with an education in science and the classics;
+afterward the legal profession arose to sufficient dignity for it; and
+finally the physician, the guardian of our health, the student and
+philosopher of our bodies, arose to his noble position in the affairs of
+this life; while the agriculturist, the supporter of all we have or wish
+for here, the basis of our very civilization, is pushed aside or
+forgotten, and the demand upon him for the best culture of the earth
+altogether neglected. We have to congratulate ourselves that our
+Government has left it with each State by itself, whether, by the
+non-acceptance of its gift of public land as foundations for
+agricultural colleges, they will longer forego the opportunity of giving
+our young farmers a thorough scientific agricultural education. Until
+such a system of study can be arranged, let the farmers themselves
+commence the work of self-education. Agricultural societies and farmers'
+clubs, in which are gathered together the best farmers of the States,
+offer the best opportunity for intercommunication, thorough discussion
+and observation, and dissemination of all new discoveries, facts, or
+theories which may be made beneficial to all. These are the only means
+by which farmers can compare opinions and found sound judgments for
+their future labors. What would be the financial<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595">[Pg 595]</a></span> condition of the other
+great economical interests, if merchants and owners never consulted
+together, nor marked the course and policy for their mutual guidance?
+The best agricultural papers and magazines which favor each farmer's
+peculiar interest, whether of stock, or fruit, or dairy, or grain,
+should be subscribed for and read, and preserved for future reference.
+Our best farmers can do a great deal, by contributing facts of their own
+knowledge, to raise the standard and worth of such periodicals. It only
+needs the feeling of personal interest in this matter to procure for
+each farmer whatever books are necessary to a perfect understanding of
+his special work. They must soon learn that the education of their
+children is the best investment they can make of the value of their
+services.</p>
+
+<p>They should be taught, by example, by reading, and observation, the
+general success in life of those who plant and water and reap; and the
+general failure of those who attempt to gain an early or a late fortune
+in money by entering the marts of more active and more crowded
+competition. Most men fail to make the fortunes which the dreams of
+youth placed before them in such brilliant colors. In the present
+condition of the various professions, except farming, they only succeed
+whom fortune favors by special mental gifts or special personal
+friendships.</p>
+
+<p>The peace, quiet, and contentment of a cheerful home; the charms of
+nature, free, unobstructed, lovely; the generous bestowal of an
+'unostentatious hospitality;' the patient spirit of him who waits upon
+the accustomed return of the seasons; the attachment, the joy and
+pleasure of looking upon the broad acres, the shaded walks, the
+beautiful landscape, planted, improved, and protected by his own hand;
+the herds of favorite cattle and sheep which love his coming, the kindly
+tones of his voice, the gentle stroke of his hand; the respect paid by
+friends and neighbors to the venerable man who waits only the
+termination of a virtuous life; the faith in 'the sacred covenant, that
+while the earth remaineth, sunshine and shower, summer and winter,
+seed-time and harvest shall not fail,' are his who lives through long
+years devoted to this, rightly followed, noblest of all
+occupations&mdash;farming.</p>
+
+<p>'He that goeth forth in humility, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless
+come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.'</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="APHORISMS" id="APHORISMS"></a>APHORISMS.</h2>
+
+<h3>NO. IV.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Innovations in religion are very commonly deprecated; but there is one
+in practice which might very safely be attempted, i.e., to <i>obey</i> the
+gospel. This has been seldom done, even among those that bear the
+Christian name. How few, even among the members of churches, do really
+mould their lives from day to day by the teachings of our Lord and his
+disciples!</p>
+
+<p>This same thought may be presented in another form. Let us remark, then,
+that while the true teachings of religion are found in the Bible, yet a
+new edition of them seems wanted, viz., the actual obedience of those
+that adopt them as their creed and rule of life. To make these doctrines
+manifest in the lives of any considerable number among men, would give
+them a power such as they have rarely had.</p>
+
+<p>We have had a great many translations of the Holy Scriptures; the best
+of all would be their translation into the daily practice of Christian
+people.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596">[Pg 596]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_WILD_AZALEA" id="THE_WILD_AZALEA"></a>THE WILD AZALEA.</h2>
+
+<h3>A MEMORY OF THE HIGHLANDS.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up on the hills where the young trees grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looking down on the fields below&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long-leaved chestnuts and maples low;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up where lingereth late the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the soft spring day is nearly done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dying away in the west;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up where the poplar's silver stem<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bends by the marsh's grass-fringed hem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By the soft May wind caressed;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up where the long, slim shadows fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the scarlet oak and the pepperidge tall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the birds and the squirrels tirelessly call,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where in autumn the flowers of the gentian blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look up with their eyes so dark and true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Up into the hazy sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dreaming away as the red leaves drop,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the acorn falls from its deep brown cup,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the yellow leaves float by;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up where the violets, white and blue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bloom in sunshine and the dew,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tenderly living their still life through,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the deep-cut leaves of the liverwort grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the great white flowers of the dogwood blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the pale anemones;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cometh a perfume spicily shed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the wild Azalea's full-wreathed head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lifted among the trees.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There where the sun-flecked shadows lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quivering light as the breeze laughs by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the leaves all dance 'neath the soft spring sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blossoming bright when the twigs grow green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the sunlight falls with a tenderer sheen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than comes with the summer noon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blossoming bright where the laurel gleams,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lifting its sculptured flowers to the beams<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the warm, glad sun of June.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And so it smiles to itself all day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where it stands alone by the mountain way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hearing the merry young leaves at play;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597">[Pg 597]</a></span><br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And soft on the stones its smile is cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And it laughs with the wind as it saunters past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fresh, young wind of May:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And happily thus it lives its life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the woods with sounds of summer are rife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When it silently passes away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And once again to the hills we go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the sun shines warm on the fields below<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the midsummer lilies are all aglow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When shadows are thicker, and scarcely the breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stirs a leaf on the gleaming poplar trees,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And low are the streamlet's tones;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the bright Azalea we look in vain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And long for its smile to gladden again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our hearts and the old gray stones.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_PAIR_OF_STOCKINGS" id="A_PAIR_OF_STOCKINGS"></a>A PAIR OF STOCKINGS.</h2>
+
+<h3>FROM THE ARMY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Kate was sitting by the window. I was sitting beside her. It may be well
+to state here that Kate was a young lady, and that I am a young
+gentleman. Kate had large, lustrous dark eyes, which just then were
+covered with fringed, drooping eyelashes. She had braids of dark hair
+wreathed around her head, a soft pink color in her cheeks, and a rosebud
+mouth, womanly, fresh, and lovely. Kate was clad in a pink muslin dress,
+with a tiny white ruffle around her white throat. She was armed with
+four steely needles, which were so many bright arrows that pierced my
+heart through and through. Over her fingers glided a small blue thread,
+which proceeded from the ball of yarn I held in my hand.</p>
+
+<p>Kate was knitting a stocking, and surely, irrevocably she was taking me
+captive; already I felt myself entangled by those small threads.</p>
+
+<p>We were the inmates of a boarding house. Kate was a new boarder. I had
+known her but a few weeks.</p>
+
+<p>The evening was warm, and I took up a palm-leaf fan, and fanned her. She
+thanked me. I looked at her white hands, gliding in and out under the
+blue yarn; there were no rings on those fingers. I thought how nicely
+one would look upon that ring finger&mdash;a tiny gold circlet, with two
+hearts joined upon it, and on the inside two names written&mdash;hers and
+mine. Then I thought of Kate as my wife, always clad in a pink muslin
+dress, always with her hair in just such glossy braids, and knitting
+stockings to the end of time.</p>
+
+<p>'Kate shall be my wife,' I said to myself, in rash pride, as I fanned
+her more energetically. I did not know that the way to a woman's heart
+was more intricate than a labyrinth; but I had the clue in the blue yarn
+which I held in my hand. I little knew what I undertook. Kate was shy as
+a wild deer, timid as a fawn, with an atmosphere of reserve about her
+which one could not well break through.</p>
+
+<p>'For whom are you knitting those stockings, Miss Kate?' I asked.</p>
+
+<p>'For a soldier, Mr. Armstrong,' she replied, her eye kindling with
+patriotism.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598">[Pg 598]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>'If I will be one of the Home Guards, and stay and take care of you,
+will you knit me a pair?'</p>
+
+<p>'Never. I feel abundantly able to take care of myself. I wish you would
+enlist, Mr. Armstrong. When you do, I will knit you a pair.'</p>
+
+<p>'It would be almost worth the sacrifice,' I replied.</p>
+
+<p>'Sacrifice! Would you sacrifice yourself for a pair of stockings? Have
+you not patriotism enough to offer yourself upon the altar of your
+country? If I were a man, I would enlist in a moment, though I had ten
+thousand a year, and a wife and seven children.'</p>
+
+<p>I will confess to you, gentle reader, that I was not such a craven as I
+appeared. The fires of patriotism were smouldering in my bosom, and I
+needed only a spark from Kate's hand to light them into life and action.
+Kate rose and left the room, her cheek glowing with spirit, and I sat
+and fanned the chair where she had sat, for a few moments. It was too
+bad to break up the delicious <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> so soon.</p>
+
+<p>I lingered in the parlor after the gas was lighted, but she did not
+come. I put on my hat, and went out. I would enlist. I had meant to do
+so all along. I had managed my business in reference to it&mdash;the only
+drawback was the thought of Kate. How pleasant it would be to remind her
+of her promise, and ask her for the stockings and herself with them!
+Visions of tender partings and interesting letters floated around me at
+the thought.</p>
+
+<p>There was a meeting in Tremont Temple in aid of recruiting. Flags hung
+drooping from the ceiling, bands of music were in attendance in the
+galleries, and distinguished and eloquent speakers occupied the
+platform. I do not think their eloquence had much to do with my action,
+for I had resolved beforehand. I went forward at the close of the
+meeting, and signed my name to the roll as a Massachusetts volunteer. A
+pair of hands in the gallery began the thunder of applause that greeted
+the act. I looked up; Kate was there, clapping enthusiastically. But who
+was that tall fellow in uniform by her side, with a tremendous mustache,
+and eyes which flashed brighter than her own? He, then, was the soldier
+for whom she was knitting the stockings. The rest of the meeting was a
+blank to me.</p>
+
+<p>I watched, and followed them to the door of the boarding house. I hid
+myself behind a lamp post, as they paused on the steps. She turned
+toward him, her face all aglow with feeling.</p>
+
+<p>'Good by, Frank. Take good care of yourself. I'm glad to have you
+enlist, but so sorry to lose you,' and tears trembled in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'Good by, Kate, darling; and after the war is over, I will come home and
+take care of my bird,' and he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>'Stop Frank!'</p>
+
+<p>'Well, birdie?'</p>
+
+<p>'Those are not fit words to dismiss a soldier with. Here, I'll give you
+a watchword. Think of it, Frank:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Never give up! though the grapeshot may rattle<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or the thick thunder cloud over you burst,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stand like a rock! in the storm or the battle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Little shall harm you, though doing their worst!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>'Brave words, Kate. You deserve a kiss for them.' It was given. I turned
+away in desperation, and walked onward, not caring where I went.
+Policemen watched me, but the lateness of the hour made no difference to
+me. I could have walked all night. At length I came to a bridge. The
+moon was shining upon the rippling water. It looked cold and dark,
+except where the ripples were. There would be a plunge, and then the
+water would flow on over my head. Why not? I did not know I had loved
+her with such devotion. It was all over now. She belonged to another. My
+foot was on the rail. I thought then of the name I had signed to the
+roll. 'No, Jacob Armstrong, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599">[Pg 599]</a></span> have no right to take the life which
+you have given to your country.' I turned away toward my boarding place,
+full of bitterness and despair. A tiny glove was on the stairs. I picked
+it up and pressed it passionately to my lips, and cursed myself for the
+act as I threw it down again.</p>
+
+<p>The days that followed were weary enough. I made arrangements for my
+departure with all possible speed. I avoided Kate, and was cold and
+haughty in my salutations. I am very dignified naturally. I can be an
+iceberg in human shape when I wish. One evening I went into the parlor
+before tea, and took up a newspaper. Kate came in. I put on my dignity,
+and tried to be interested in politics, though I could think of nothing
+but the dainty figure opposite, and the gleaming needles in her hands. I
+struggled with the passionate, bitter feelings that rose at the sight of
+her, and was calm and cold.</p>
+
+<p>'I am glad you have enlisted, Mr. Armstrong, she said.</p>
+
+<p>'Thank you,' I replied stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>'I suppose you are very busy making preparations?'</p>
+
+<p>'Very.'</p>
+
+<p>'And you are going soon?'</p>
+
+<p>'I hope so.'</p>
+
+<p>Kate left the room. I wished she was back again a thousand times. How
+kind and shy she looked. If there was a gleam of hope&mdash;that tall fellow
+in uniform&mdash;no, she might stay away forever. And yet my heart gave a
+great leap as she appeared again.</p>
+
+<p>'I want to show you a photograph, Mr. Armstrong,' she said, blushing and
+smiling. I took it. It was the officer in uniform, with the tremendous
+mustache and flashing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>'It is my brother Frank. Does he look like me?'</p>
+
+<p>I started as if I had been shot.</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Kate, I want to take a walk now, and I should like some company.
+Will you go with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'Hadn't we better have tea first?' she said, smiling. 'The bell has just
+rung.'</p>
+
+<p>I do not know how that tea passed off, whether we had jumbles or
+muffins, whether I drank tea or cold water; but I knew that opposite me
+sat Kate, radiant in pink muslin, and when the interminable tea was
+over, we were going to take a walk together. I was thinking what I
+should say. I am generally a sociable and genial man, and it seems to me
+that on this particular evening I was assaulted with a storm of
+questions and remarks.</p>
+
+<p>'Don't you think so, Mr. Armstrong?' asked the lady on my right, the
+lady on my left, and the gentleman in black at the end of the table. I
+aimed monosyllables at them promiscuously, and have at present no means
+of knowing whether they fitted the questions and remarks or not.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of a mental speech, I was vigorously assaulted by Mary, the
+table girl, and, looking about me in surprise, I caught a glimpse of the
+boardinghouse cat just disappearing through the door:</p>
+
+<p>'And sure, Mr. Armstrong, yer must be blind. The blow was intended for
+the cat, and she had her paw in yer plate.'</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps you do not know how pleasant it is to take a walk with a little
+gloved hand resting upon your arm, little feet keeping step with yours,
+and a soft voice chiming in with everything you say. I was happy on that
+particular night. We walked on the Common. The stars shone, and the long
+branches of the old elms swayed to and fro in the moonlight, as we
+passed under them. It was just the time and place that I liked.</p>
+
+<p>'Miss Kate,' I began, 'in a few days I shall be far away from home and
+friends, amid danger and death, fighting the battles of my country. I
+have known you but a short time; but that time has been long enough to
+show me that I love you with my whole soul. I offer my hand and heart to
+you. May I not hope that you will sometimes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[Pg 600]</a></span> think of the soldier&mdash;that
+I may carry your heart with me?'</p>
+
+<p>'I think you may hope,' she replied, gently; 'but this is very sudden. I
+will give you a final answer to-morrow morning.'</p>
+
+<p>When we got home, we went into the dining room, and I helped her to a
+glass of ice water, and hoped she would linger there a moment; but she
+was shy, and bade me a kind good night. I didn't know till the next
+morning what she was about the rest of the evening; when she met me on
+the stairs, placed a small parcel in my hands, saying:</p>
+
+<p>'My answer, Mr. Armstrong,' and was off like a fawn.</p>
+
+<p>I opened it, and saw the stockings, blue, and warm and soft. A note was
+stitched in the toe of one of them:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>: I said I was knitting the stockings for a soldier.
+I began them, with a patriotic impulse, for no one in particular. I
+finished them last night, and knit loving thoughts of you in with
+every stitch, I have always liked you, but I do not think I should
+have given you my hand if you had not enlisted. I love you, but I
+love my country more. I give you the stockings. When you wear them,
+I hope you will sometimes think of her who fashioned them, and who
+gives herself to you with them. Yours, <span class="smcap">Kate</span>.</p></div>
+
+<p>I reverently folded the tiny note, after having committed it to memory,
+and repeated its contents to myself all the way to my office, beginning
+with 'Mr. Armstrong,' and ending with 'Yours, Kate.' I was in a state of
+extreme beatification. Kate was mine, noble girl! She loved me, and yet
+was willing to give me up for her country's cause. And I began to repeat
+the note to myself again, when, on a crossing, I was accosted by a
+biped, commonly known as a small boy:</p>
+
+<p>'Mister, yer stocking is sticking out of yer pocket.'</p>
+
+<p>I turned calmly around, and addressed him:</p>
+
+<p>'Boy, I glory in those stockings. I am willing that the universe should
+behold them. My destiny is interwoven with them. Every stitch is
+instinct with life and love.'</p>
+
+<p>'Don't see it, mister! Glory, hallelujah!' and he ended his speech by
+making an exclamation point of himself, by standing on his head&mdash;a very
+bad practice for small boys. I advise all precocious youngsters, who may
+read this article, to avoid such positions.</p>
+
+<p>We broke camp, and started off in high spirits. I paraded through the
+streets with a bouquet of rosebuds on my bayonet. I found a note among
+them afterward, more fragrant than they.</p>
+
+<p>When our regiment left Boston, it went from Battery Wharf. I went on
+board the Merrimac. Kate could not pass the lines, and stationed herself
+in a vessel opposite, where we could look at each other. I aimed a
+rosebud at her; it fell into the green water, and floated away. The
+second and third were more successful. She pressed one to her lips and
+threw it back again; the other she kept. Afterward, with the practical
+forethought which forms a part of her character, she bought out an apple
+woman, and stormed me with apples. The vessel left the wharf, and I
+looked back with eyes fast growing dim, and watched the figure on the
+dock, bravely waving her white handkerchief as long as I could see.</p>
+
+<p>Well, it is hard for a man to leave home and friends, and all that he
+holds dear; but I do not regret it, though I have to rough it now. I am
+writing now beside a bivouac made of poles and cornstalks. My desk is a
+rude bench. I have just finished my dinner of salt junk and potatoes. On
+my feet is that pair of stockings. Profanity and almost every vice
+abounds; there are temptations all around me, but pure lips have
+promised to pray for me, and I feel that I shall be shielded and
+guarded, and kept uncontaminated, true to my 'north star,' which shines
+so brightly to me&mdash;true to my country and my God.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[Pg 601]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="LITERARY_NOTICES" id="LITERARY_NOTICES"></a>LITERARY NOTICES.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sordello, Strafford, Christmas Eve, and Easter Day</span>. By <span class="smcap">Robert
+Browning</span>. Boston: Ticknor &amp; Fields.</p></div>
+
+<p>The contents of this volume, though now first presented to the American
+public, are not the latest of the author's writings. It completes,
+however, Messrs. Ticknor &amp; Fields' reprint of his poetical works. His
+growing popularity calls for the present publication. We would fain
+number ourselves among the admirers of the husband of Elizabeth Barrett;
+the man loved by this truly great poetess, to whom she addressed the
+refined and imaginative tenderness of the 'Portuguese Sonnets?' of whom
+she writes:</p>
+
+<p>'Or from Browning some 'Pomegranate,' which, if cut deep down the
+middle, shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.'</p>
+
+<p>Before the man so loved and honored, we repeat, we would fain bow in
+reverence. But it may not be; we cannot receive him as a <i>true</i> poet&mdash;as
+in any poetic quality the peer of his matchless wife. We hear much of
+his subtile psychology&mdash;we deem it psychological unintelligibility. His
+rhythm is rough and unmusical, his style harsh and inverted, his imagery
+cold, his invective bitter, and his verbiage immense. His illustrations
+are sometimes coarse, his comparisons diminish rather than increase the
+importance of the ideas to which they are applied. His pages are
+frequently as chaotic as those of Wagner's music; leaf after leaf may be
+turned over in the despairing search for a single crystallized idea.
+Fiery sparks, flying meteors, inchoate masses of nebulous matter are
+around us, but no glass in our possession can resolve them into ordered
+orbs of thought and beauty. If a man have anything to say, why not say
+it in clear, terse, vigorous English, or why use worlds of vigorous
+words to say nothing. Some years ago, one of Browning's books was sent
+for review to Douglas Jerrold, who was then just recovering from an
+attack of brain fever: after reading it for some time, and finding that
+he failed to arrive at any clear idea of the meaning of its lines, he
+began to fear that his brain was again becoming confused, and, handing
+it to his wife with a request that she would look over it in his
+absence, went out to drive. Returning in the evening, his first question
+was: 'Well, my dear, what do you think of Browning's poem?' 'Bother the
+gibberish,' was her indignant reply, 'I can't understand a word of it.'
+'Thank God,' exclaimed Jerrold, clapping his hands to his head
+triumphantly, 'then I am not actually insane.'</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Daleth; or, The Homestead of the Nations</span>. Egypt Illustrated. By
+<span class="smcap">Edward L. Clark</span>. Boston: Ticknor &amp; Fields.</p></div>
+
+<p>A book produced without regard to expense, and of great beauty. Paper
+and print are excellent. Its illustrations are nearly one hundred in
+number. It has both woodcuts and chromo-lithographs exquisitely
+rendered, reproducing the modern scenery and antiquities of Egypt from
+photographs or authentic sources. Mr. Clark writes well, has travelled
+through the land of the Nile, and tries to bring before the minds of his
+readers vivid pictures of primeval times, for which Egypt presents such
+peculiar and valuable materials. Our writer is a scholar as well as a
+traveller, and has added to his personal experience considerable
+research into the authorities from whom many of his facts are derived.
+He is also an enthusiast, and somewhat of an artist, and gives us
+glowing pictures of the strange old land of the Pharaohs. He says:
+'Daleth, the ancient Hebrew letter ([Hebrew: **-j]), signifies a door.
+From whatever country we look back along the pathway of the arts and
+sciences, in the dim distance tower the mighty gateways of Egypt&mdash;the
+homestead of the nations&mdash;beneath which the rites of religion and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[Pg 602]</a></span>
+blessings of civilization have passed out into the world; and with
+grateful respect we confess that on the banks of the Nile stands the
+true Daleth of the Nations.' This idea forms the clew to the whole book,
+and from hence is derived its title, Daleth. We heartily recommend it to
+our readers. It merits attention. We quote the last sentence of the
+short preface: 'That these fragments of the past may reflect for the
+reader the sunshine they have gathered in three thousand years, is the
+earnest wish of the author.'</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">The Life and Adventures, Songs, Services, and Speeches of Private
+Miles O'Reilly</span> (47th Regiment, New York Volunteers). "The Post of
+Honor is the Private's Station." With Illustrations by Mullen. From
+the authentic records of the New York <i>Herald</i>. New York: Carleton,
+publisher, 413 Broadway.</p></div>
+
+<p>This book had established its reputation before it was issued in book
+form; and will be widely circulated. Our soldiers and sailors, our
+politicians of all parties will read it. It is evidently from the pen of
+one familiar with the varied phases of American life and the public
+service. Many of its songs are full of genuine humor. 'Sambo's Right to
+be Kilt' is excellent. 'The Review: A Picture of our Veterans,' is full
+of pathos. 'Miles' is familiar with Admiral DuPont and the monitors in
+front of Charleston, and is equally at home in Tammany Hall and
+Democratic Conventions. The publisher describes himself as unable to
+supply the rapid demand for the book. It is witty, satirical, and
+humorous; though we occasionally wish for somewhat more refinement.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Eliza Woodson; or, The Early Days of One of the World's Workers</span>. A
+Story of American Life. A. J. Davis &amp; Co., 274 Canal street, New
+York.</p></div>
+
+<p>We cannot tell our readers, with any degree of certainty, whether the
+tale before us is truth or fiction. It seems to be the simple history of
+an uneventful life, a record rather of the growth of character than an
+attempt to create the fictitious or tragical. If true it has the
+interest of fiction; if fictitious, it has the merit of concealing art
+and closely imitating nature. It contains the inner-life history of a
+deserted and much-abused little girl, from childhood to maturity. It is
+detailed, moral, conscientious, and interesting.</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Babble Brook Songs</span>. By <span class="smcap">J. H. McNaughton</span>. Boston: Oliver Ditson &amp;
+Co.</p></div>
+
+<p>A volume of original songs and poems. That it comes from the University
+Press is sufficient guarantee of its superb typography. Of these lyrics
+we prefer 'Without the Children.'</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Rubina</span>. New York: James G. Gregory, 46 Walker street.</p></div>
+
+<p>A close and detailed picture of New England life and character. The poor
+young orphans have a dismal time of it among their hard and coarse
+relatives. The sterner forms of Puritanism are well depicted. The scene
+at the funeral of poor Demis, with its harrowing and denunciatory sermon
+over the corpse of the innocent girl, is powerful and true. The
+character of the 'help,' Debby, is drawn from life, and is admirably
+conceived and sustained. The book is, however, melancholy and
+monotonous. So many young and generous hearts beating themselves forever
+against the sharp stones of the baldest utilitarianism; so many bright
+minds drifting into despair in the surrounding chaos of obstinate,
+stolid, and perverse ignorance! It is a sadder book than 'The Mill on
+the Floss,' of which it reminds us. How the aspiring and imaginative
+must suffer in an atmosphere so cold and blighting!</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Counsel and Comfort</span>: Spoken from a City Pulpit. By the Author of
+'The Recreations of a Country Parson.' Boston: Ticknor &amp; Fields.
+1864.</p></div>
+
+<p>A book truly of good counsel and cheerful comfort. The strong
+personality of the writer sometimes interferes with the expansiveness of
+his views, as for instance in the discussion on pulpits; but it may
+perhaps be to that very strength of personality that we owe the force
+and directness of the lessons he so encouragingly inculcates.</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">A Woman's Ransom</span>. by <span class="smcap">Frederick William Robinson</span>, Author of
+'Grandmother's Money,' 'Under the Spell,' 'Wild Flower,' 'Slaves of
+the Ring,' 'The House of Life,' etc. Boston: Published by T. O. H.
+P. Burnham. New York: H. Dexter Hamilton &amp; Co., Oliver S. Felt.</p></div>
+
+<p>This work is published from advance sheets purchased from the English
+publisher. It is an excellent novel, full of incident and interest. The
+plot is artistic, and fascinates<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[Pg 603]</a></span> the reader to the end. The element of
+mystery is skilfully managed, increasing until the final <i>d&eacute;no&ucirc;ment</i>,
+which is original and unexpected. We commend it to the attention of the
+lovers of fascinating fiction.</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Industrial Biography: Iron Workers and Tool Makers</span>. By <span class="smcap">Samuel
+Smiles</span>, Author of 'Self-Help,' 'Brief Biographies,' and 'Life of
+George Stephenson.' 'The true Epic of our time, is not <i>Arms</i> but,
+<i>Tools</i> and <i>Man</i>&mdash;an infinitely wider kind of Epic.' Boston:
+Ticknor &amp; Fields.</p></div>
+
+<p>This book may be considered as a continuation of the Series of Memoirs
+of Industrial Men introduced in Mr. Smiles's 'Lives of Engineers.' The
+author says that 'while commemorating the names of those who have
+striven&mdash;to elevate man above the material and mechanical, the labors of
+the important industrial class, to whom society owes so much of its
+comfort and well-being, are also entitled to consideration. Without
+derogating from the biographic claims of those who minister to intellect
+and taste, those who minister to utility need not be overlooked.'</p>
+
+<p>Surely the object of this book is a good one. The mechanic should
+receive his meed of appreciation. Our constructive heroes should not be
+forgotten, for the heroism of inventive labor has its own romance, and
+its results aid greatly the cause of human advancement. Most of the
+information embodied in this volume has heretofore existed only in the
+memories of the eminent mechanical engineers from whom it has been
+collected. Facts are here placed on record which would, in the ordinary
+course of things, have passed into oblivion. All honor to the brave,
+patient, ingenious, and inventive mechanic!</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">The Wife's Secret</span>. By <span class="smcap">Mrs. Ann S. Stephens</span>, Author of 'The Rejected
+Wife,' 'Fashion and Famine,' 'Tho Old Homestead,' 'Mary Derwent,'
+etc., etc. Philadelphia: T. B. Peterson &amp; Brothers, 306 Chestnut
+street.</p></div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Stephens</span> has considerable ability in the construction of her plots
+and their gradual development. Her stories are always interesting. The
+wife's secret is well kept, and the <i>d&eacute;no&ucirc;ment</i> admirably managed. The
+fatal want of moral courage, the suffering caused by mental weakness,
+the strength of love, the sustaining power of intellect, are portrayed
+with ability in the book before us. The moral is unexceptionable
+throughout.</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">The Veil Partly Lifted, and Jesus Becoming Visible</span>. By <span class="smcap">W. H.
+Furness</span>, Author of 'Remarks on the Four Gospels,' 'Jesus and His
+Biographers,' 'A History of Jesus,' and 'Thoughts on the Life and
+Character of Jesus of Nazareth.' Boston: Ticknor &amp; Fields. For sale
+by D. Appleton &amp; Co., New York.</p></div>
+
+<p>Investigations into the life and character of Christ Jesus are
+everywhere multiplying around us. Attempts to account for the marvels of
+His glorious Being on a simply natural plane are made in apparent good
+faith, and with considerable ability. Mr. Furness approaches his subject
+with reverence: he has studied the man, Jesus, with his heart. The human
+phases of His marvellous character are elaborated with skill and
+patience. He regards Christianity as a 'natural product, a product
+realized, not against, or aside from, but in the established order of
+things; that were we competent to pronounce upon the purposes of the
+Infinite Mind, which we are not, we might say that, so far from His
+being out of the course of nature, nature culminated in Christ, and
+that, of all that exists, He is the one being profoundly human,
+pre&euml;minently natural.' In the dove which descended at His baptism, Mr.
+Furness 'discovers the presence of a common dove divested of its
+ordinary appearance, and transfigured by a rapt imagination into a sign
+and messenger from heaven.' He says 'there is no intrinsic impossibility
+in supposing that Jesus was naturally possessed of an unprecedented
+power of will, by which the extraordinary effects attributed to him were
+produced.' 'The bloody sweat is an evident fiction&mdash;how could blood have
+been distinguished in the dark?' He pronounces the story of 'the wise
+men from the east an evident fable.' Mr. Furness puts no faith in the
+miraculous conception, but believes in the resurrection. He says: 'Bound
+by irresistible evidence to believe that Jesus was again alive on that
+memorable morning, I believe it will hereafter appear that He came to
+life through the extraordinary <i>force of will</i> with which He was
+endowed, and by which He healed the sick and raised the dead; or, in
+other words, that consciousness returned to Him by an action of the
+mind, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[Pg 604]</a></span> itself no more inscrutable in this case than it is in our
+daily waking from sleep.'</p>
+
+<p>We deem that there is more difficulty in admitting that Christ rose from
+the dead by <i>extraordinary force of will</i>, than in admitting the truth
+of the record that He was the only Son of the Father, with full power
+over life and death. We thank Mr. Furness for the skilful manner in
+which he has brought to light the infinite tenderness and divine
+self-forgetfulness of the Redeemer, but we cannot think he has succeeded
+in lifting the veil of mystery which surrounds the birth, miracles,
+crucifixion, resurrection, and atonement of the Redeemer. Meantime let
+Christians who accept revelation in its integrity, throw no stumbling
+blocks in the way of earnest and candid inquirers, such as Mr. Furness.
+Is it not true that, dazzled by the <i>Divine</i>, we have been too little
+touched by the exquisite, compassionate, faithful, and child-like
+<i>human</i> character of our Master? Truth seeks the light, and it cannot
+fall too fully on the perfect; every ray serving but to reveal some new
+perfection. Let those of fuller faith rejoice in the beauties forever
+developing in the character of the Holy Victim. Let them patiently pray
+that those who love Him as an elder brother, may gaze upon His majesty
+until they see in Him the risen God.</p>
+
+<p>We have found this book interesting and suggestive. It is disgraced by
+none of the flippant and irreverent sentimentalism which characterizes
+M. Renan.</p>
+
+<p>Contents: 'Wherein the Teaching of Jesus was New;' 'How the Truth of the
+History is made to appear;' 'His Knowledge of Human Nature;' 'His
+Wonder-working Power;' 'His Child-likeness;' 'The Naturalness of His
+Teaching;' 'The Naturalness of certain Fables found in His History;'
+'The Genesis of the Gospels.'</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">The Campaner Thal</span>, and Other Writings. From the German of <span class="smcap">Jean Paul
+Friedrich Richter</span>. Boston: Ticknor &amp; Fields. For sale by D.
+Appleton &amp; Co., New York.</p></div>
+
+<p>The "other writings" in the work before us are: Life of Quintus Fixlein,
+Schmelzle's Journey to Fl&auml;tz, Analects from Richter, and Miscellaneous
+Pieces. The Life of Quintus Fixlein and Schmelzle's Journey to Fl&auml;tz are
+both translated by that ardent admirer of Richter's genius, Thomas
+Carlyle; a sufficient guarantee that the spirit and beauty of the
+original are fully rendered. The Analects are translated by the
+brilliant writer, Thomas de Quincey.</p>
+
+<p>Richter died while engaged, under recent and almost total blindness, in
+enlarging and remodelling the Campaner Thal, or Discourses on the
+Immortality of the Soul. 'The unfinished manuscript was borne upon his
+coffin to the burial vault; and Klopstock's hymn, <i>Auferstehen wirst
+du!</i> 'Thou shalt arise, my soul!' can seldom have been sung with more
+appropriate application than over the grave of Jean Paul.'</p>
+
+<p>The works of Jean Paul require no praise from the hands of the reviewer;
+his name is a true 'open sesame' to all hearts. Not to know him argues
+one's self unknown. Some of his finest passages are to be found in the
+Campaner Thal. It was written from his heart, and embodies his
+conviction of immortality. How tender its imagery, how rich its
+consoling suggestions, how all-embracing its arabesques, how original
+its structure! That its author should grow in favor with our people,
+would be a convincing proof of their own progress. So many different
+powers unite in him, that he has been well styled by his own people 'The
+only.' The vigor and rough strength of the man, with the delicacy and
+tenderness of the woman; glowing imagination with wondrous stores of
+erudition; fancy with exactness; the most loving heart with the keenest
+insight into the foibles of his fellows; the wit of a Swift with the
+romance of a Rousseau&mdash;but why attempt to describe the indescribable, to
+give portraits of the Proteus who changes as we gaze upon him?</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, we heartily commend Jean Paul to the notice of our readers,
+and thank the publishers who are placing his great works within the
+reach of those who cannot read him in the original.</p>
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">The Wind Harp</span>, and Other Poems. By <span class="smcap">Ellen Clementine Howarth</span>.
+Philadelphia: Willis P. Hazard.</p></div>
+
+<p>If we have been correctly informed, the author of this book is an Irish
+woman living in Trenton, N. Y., whose husband is a laboring man, and,
+like herself, in humble circumstances. She has quite a large family,
+lives in a small tenement, and is obliged to labor daily for a
+subsistence for herself and family.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[Pg 605]</a></span> When she came to this country from
+Ireland, she could scarcely write a grammatical sentence; and all the
+information of history and the classics which she has, she has derived
+from such books as have accidentally fallen in her hands. She is
+extremely modest and retiring, and does not seem to be at all conscious
+of the genius with which she is endowed. Mrs. Howarth possesses the
+poetical talent of the Irish race. Her rhythm is musical, flowing, and
+pure; her thoughts gentle and womanly; her diction refined; her form
+good; her powers of imitation great. What she wants now is more
+self-reliance, that she may write from the inner life of her own
+experience. Her poems lack originality. Let her not fear to dip her pen
+in her own heart, and sing to us the joys and sorrows of the poor. Burns
+were a better study for her than Moore; the Corn Law rhymer than Poe.
+With her talents and the cultivation she has acquired, her familiarity
+with the hopes, fears, and realities of a life of labor will give her
+great advantages as the poetess of the faithful, suffering poor.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+
+<h4>BOOKS RECEIVED TOO LATE FOR REVIEW.</h4>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Lyrics of a Day; or, Newspaper Poetry.</span> By a Volunteer of the U. S.
+Service. New York: Carleton, publisher, 413 Broadway.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Red-Tape and Pigeon-Hole Generals:</span> as Seen from the Ranks during a
+Campaign in the Army of the Potomac. By a Citizen Soldier.</p>
+
+<p class="center">'We must be brief when traitors brave the field.'</p>
+
+<p>New York: Carleton, publisher, 413 Broadway.</p></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+
+<h2><a name="EDITORS_TABLE" id="EDITORS_TABLE"></a>EDITOR'S TABLE.</h2>
+
+<h4>ADELAIDE A. PROCTER AND JEAN INGELOW.</h4>
+
+
+<p>Extremes ever meet, and our age, which is pre&euml;minently occupied with
+physical science and material comfort and aggrandizement, is also
+eminently productive in good poetry. There should be no antithesis
+between the words <i>physical science</i> and <i>poetry</i>. The secrets of the
+Universe, the ways of God's working, are surely the highest poetry; but
+the greater number of scientists have willed a divorce between the
+material and the spiritual, and decry that very imaginative faculty
+which, in the case of Kepler, bore such wonderful fruits for science.
+Facts are very well, and induction is also well, but science requires
+the aid of the creative and divining imagination to order the details
+and draw thence the broader and higher generalizations. Let us hope that
+the good common sense of the in-coming half-century will annul the
+divorce, and again unite on a solid basis spheres that should never have
+been so far sundered.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime, we cannot but remark the number of good poems meeting us on
+every hand, not only from writers known to fame, but also from the
+living tombs of obscure country newspapers. We know it is the fashion to
+deride such productions, and sneer at the 'would-be poets.' Let critics
+speak the truth fearlessly, but let them never prefer the glitter of a
+self-glorifying search for faults to the more amiable but less piquant
+occupation of discovering solid thought, earnest feeling, and poetic
+fancy. It is well to discourage insipidity, impudent pretension, and
+every species of affectation; but critics are, like authors, fallible,
+and not unfrequently present glaring examples of the very faults they
+condemn. In any case where the knife is needed, let it be used firmly
+but gently, that, while the patient bleeds, he may feel the wound has
+been inflicted by no unloving, cynical hand, but was really intended for
+his ultimate good. Let the instrument be finely tempered, and neither
+coarse nor rough. We can all recall a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606">[Pg 606]</a></span> cases where a rude treatment
+has effected a cure, but only by draining the life blood of the victim,
+or by turning every better human feeling into bitterness and corroding
+gall. Words of blame intended to fall upon the hearts of the young, or
+of the old, should always be spoken kindly, for we can never know how
+deeply they may penetrate, what tender schemes for widowed mother,
+aspiring brother, portionless sister, or starving wife and children they
+may shatter. The public is a pretty keen judge, and will in most cases
+drop works devoid of the immortal elements of genius. The critic may
+point the way, but he need add no unnecessary stab to a downfall sure
+and bitter.</p>
+
+<p>This digression, however, has no bearing upon the honored names heading
+this table, as both now have become 'household words' in our midst. Both
+are acknowledged as <i>real poets</i>, but how different are they in style,
+and mode of thought! Jean Ingelow, as the more brilliant, is the more
+general favorite, Adelaide Procter having as yet scarcely received her
+due meed of praise. Miss Ingelow exhibits an exuberant fancy, a
+luxurious wealth of diction, and a generally fine poetic sense of form;
+her thoughts are sound, and their dress new and glittering; but the
+volume we have read is one to please the fancy and gratify the intellect
+rather than touch the heart. The style is occasionally obscure and the
+thought difficult to follow. Of course one can always find a meaning,
+but one is not always sure of interpreting according to the author's
+intentions. This quality, found largely in the school of Robert
+Browning, is one to be guarded against. Mrs. Browning sometimes deals in
+such involutions, but her style is so evidently an essential part of
+herself, that we rarely think of affectation in connection with it. It
+is pleasanter to dream our own dreams, than to follow any author into a
+tangled maze, whence we, and not he, must furnish the clew for egress.</p>
+
+<p>The 'Songs of Seven' and 'The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire'
+are truly fine poems, to us the most complete and sustained in the
+entire collection. In 'Requiescat in Pace,' we are carried so far away
+from the actualities of life that we scarcely care whether the lover be
+dead or living. As in a fairy tale, we read for the sake of curiosity,
+admiring sundry touches here and there, but feeling nothing. Miss
+Ingelow's rhythm is good, and her language musical.</p>
+
+<p>The style of Adelaide Procter is singularly lucid and direct; she has
+but little command of poetic ornament, and we rarely think of her choice
+of words. <i>Pathos</i>, and <i>a close, keen representation of human
+experience</i>, are her distinguishing characteristics. She is a poet to
+read when the soul is wrung, and longs for the solace of communion with
+a noble, tender, sympathetic human heart. The very absence of ornament
+brings the thoughts and feelings nearer to our needs. Her poems are
+evidently pictures of real human souls, and not poetic imaginings of
+what human beings might feel under such and such circumstances. There
+are many of Miss Procter's tales and shorter poems which bring tears to
+the eyes of all who have really lived and sorrowed, and the more we read
+them, the more do they come home to us. We feel as if we could take
+their author into our heart of hearts, and make all the world love her
+as do we. With her, brilliancy of imagery and description are replaced
+by a sententiousness and concentration of expression that suddenly
+strike home some truth perhaps well known, but little dwelt on. For
+instance, in 'A Legend of Provence,' we find:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have limits to its mercy: God has none.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And man's forgiveness may be true and sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But yet he stoops to give it. More complete<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is Love that lays forgiveness at thy feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pleads with thee to raise it. Only Heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Means <i>crowned</i>, not <i>vanquished</i>, when it says, 'Forgiven!''<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Again, in 'The Present:'</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Noble things the great Past promised,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holy dreams, both strange and new;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the Present shall fulfil them,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What he promised she shall do.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%; margin-left: 6em; margin-top: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 1.3em;" />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'She is wise with all his wisdom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Living on his grave she stands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On her brow she bears his laurels,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And <i>his harvest in her hands</i>.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>'Links with Heaven' is a continued series of tender, original thoughts,
+expressed in the same terse and striking, but simple manner. 'Homeless,'
+'Treasures,' 'Incompleteness,' 'Light and Shade,' are, among the smaller
+poems, fine specimens of her distinguishing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[Pg 607]</a></span> merits; while of the
+longer, 'Three Evenings in a Life,' 'Philip and Mildred,' and 'Homeward
+Bound' cannot fall to charm all who love to read a real page from the
+experience of humanity.</p>
+
+<p>Both Jean Ingelow and Adelaide Procter are thoroughly penetrated by
+profound religious convictions, the faith and charity of the latter
+being especially vivid and pervading. The one has a preponderance of the
+beautiful gift of a rich fancy, while to the other was given in greater
+degree the power of the penetrative and sympathetic imagination. The
+one, as we read, recalls to us a glittering heap of precious, shining
+jewels; the other, the first cluster of spring violets, wreaths of
+virginal lilies and midsummer roses, growths of cypress sound to the
+core, rosemary, sage, and all healing herbs, branches of scarlet maple
+leaves, and lovely wayside gentians, adorned by the hand of the Great
+Artist, and blue as heaven itself.</p>
+
+<p>But a little while ago, the Angel, Death, 'who comes in love and pity,
+and, to save our treasures, claims them all,' bore away her pure soul
+along the 'misty pathway' to everlasting peace and joy.</p>
+
+<p class="author">
+L.D.P.<br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>Loyal Women of America, this will greet you in the midst of the great
+Metropolitan Fair, and we congratulate you upon the success of the heavy
+work you have undertaken and accomplished! When God was manifest to men,
+he came to work for others, and you are treading in the highest path
+when you follow in the footsteps of the Master. Claim and perform your
+natural <i>duties</i>, show yourselves capable of self-abnegation, evince
+your determination to support the cause of justice, to be loyal to the
+humane principles of our Constitution&mdash;and all the <i>rights</i> which you
+may postulate, will be conceded you. This war in which you have suffered
+so much, made so many sacrifices, has developed your energies, shown
+your capabilities, revealed your noble hearts, and convinced the world
+that woman is the strong and vigorous <i>helpmate</i>, and not the weak, if
+beautiful, <i>toy</i> of man. The Government looks to you as its best aid,
+for moral sanction is its living soul; it looks to you for higher life,
+for, unless the heart of love is the throbbing life-pulse of Government,
+it sinks into a dull, lethargic mechanism. Far above the din of faction,
+the red tape of cabinets, the rivalry of generals, the strife of
+politicians, shines the resolve, and pulses the determination of woman,
+that <i>mankind shall be free</i>. For this, the dusky nation bless her as
+she moves; the frighted mother torn from her child, the maiden sold to
+shame, call upon her to deliver them from infamy and the devouring
+hunger of a robbed mother's heart. The wronged children of Ham arise and
+call her 'Blessed.'</p>
+
+<p>But it is with the men of her own race, that woman is weaving the golden
+web of priceless sympathies. Woven of her tenderness, it sparkles with
+man's deathless gratitude. The soldier feels her gracious being in every
+throb of his true heart. Her love and care are forever around him. In
+his lonely night watches, his long marches, his wearisome details of
+duty, his absence from home, his countless deprivations, he thinks of
+the women of his country, and is proud that he may be their defender.
+This thought stimulates him on the field of battle, and nerves his arm
+to deeds of glory. And when he falls, he falls into the arms which
+spread everywhere around him. The Sanitary Commission is her
+representative. She sends it to him to breathe of her in his hour of
+pain. Through it she watches o'er him as he lies low and bleeding on the
+dreadful field, surrounded by the dead and dying; she sends her
+ambulances there to bear him to shelter and comfort; her surgeons stanch
+the noble blood, remove the shattered limbs, quench the stifling thirst,
+working with a tenderness sucked in with the mother's milk. In the
+hospital, in her own gentle person, she soothes his restless hours,
+watches o'er his sleepless couch, dresses his mangled limbs, bears him
+up with her own faith, giving her strength to aid his weakness, she
+leads him back to life, or, if death must come, up to God. American
+Women, live up to the holy duties now demanded of you, and your rights
+will all be conceded, higher, holier, deeper, broader, more vital than
+any for which you have yet asked or hoped. The esteem and veneration of
+the very men who have scorned you for your love of luxury, laughed at
+you for your ridiculous aping of foreign aristocracy, jeered at you for
+your love of glitter, your thirst for wealth, your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[Pg 608]</a></span> frivolity and folly,
+and despised you for your arrogance and heartlessness&mdash;are already
+yours. Contempt for you has passed away forever. Let the dead past bury
+its dead. American women solve the riddle of woman's destiny. Vast is
+her field and heritage: all who suffer belong to her. Her heart is the
+strength of love and charity; her mind, justice and the rights of all
+who bear the human form; her soul, God's temple among men, in which
+dwell the angels of Purity, Sacrifice, and Devotion. Love to God and man
+is her creed, self-abnegation her crown, faith her oriflamme, strength
+her gift, life her guerdon, and immortality her portion.</p>
+
+<p>American Women, we place a soldier's song before you:</p>
+
+
+<h3>A SOLDIER'S PSALM OF WOMAN.</h3>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">By Lieut. Richard Realf.</span></h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Down all the shining lapse of days<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That grow and grow forever<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In truer love and better praise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the Almighty Giver&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whatever God-like impulses<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have blossomed in the human,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The most divine and fair of these<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sprang from the soul of woman.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her heart it is preserves the flower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sacrificial duty,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which, blown across the blackest hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Transfigures it to beauty;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her hands that streak these solemn years<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With vivifying graces,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And crown the foreheads of our fears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With light from higher places.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O wives and mothers, sanctified<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By holy consecrations,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Turning our weariness aside<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With blessed ministrations!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O maidens, in whose dewy eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perennial comforts glitter,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Untangling War's dark mysteries<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And making sweet the bitter;&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In desolate paths, on dangerous posts,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By places which, to-morrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall be unto these bannered hosts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Aceldemas of sorrow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We hear the sound of helping feet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We feel your soft caressings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all our life starts up to greet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Your lovingness with blessings!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">On cots of pain, on beds of woe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where stricken heroes languish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wan faces smile and sick hearts grow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Triumphant over anguish;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While souls that starve in lonely gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flush green with odorous praises,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all the lowly pallets bloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With Gratitude's white daisies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O lips that from our wounds have sucked<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fever and the burning!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O tender fingers that have plucked<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The madness from our mourning!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">O hearts that beat so loyal-true<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For soothing and for saving&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">God send your own hopes back to you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crowned with immortal having!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thank God!&mdash;O Love! whereby we know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beyond our little seeing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And feel serene compassions flow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around the ache of being;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lo! clear o'er all the pain and dread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of our most sore affliction,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shining wings of Peace are spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In brooding benediction!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>We have been requested by the author of 'Hannah Thurston,' an article in
+our April number, to correct a typographical error (the omission of the
+word <i>all</i>) in said article. The mutilated sentence originally read: "I
+cannot think that marriage is essential to, or even best for, the
+happiness of <i>all</i> women."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Ed. Con</span></p>
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+<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> Russia</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> 'An Introduction to the Art and Science of Music,' written
+for the American Conservatory of Philadelphia, by Philip Trajetta.
+Philadelphia: Printed by I. Ashmead &amp; Co., 1828.
+</p></div></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No.
+5, May, 1864, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22770-h.htm or 22770-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/7/22770/
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+
+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p489.png b/22770-page-images/p489.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..566c43f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p489.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p490.png b/22770-page-images/p490.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ddc8ef1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p490.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p491.png b/22770-page-images/p491.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..764ad5b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p491.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p492.png b/22770-page-images/p492.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c07fb7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p492.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p493.png b/22770-page-images/p493.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f0a8e62
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p493.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p494.png b/22770-page-images/p494.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2e3e76e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p494.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p495.png b/22770-page-images/p495.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..75f6bf1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p495.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p496.png b/22770-page-images/p496.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b1375bc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p496.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p497.png b/22770-page-images/p497.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dad2ac2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p497.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p498.png b/22770-page-images/p498.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..543a51b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p498.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p499.png b/22770-page-images/p499.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7388113
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p499.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p500.png b/22770-page-images/p500.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c0c9e25
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p500.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p501.png b/22770-page-images/p501.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3611981
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p501.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p502.png b/22770-page-images/p502.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..852cb72
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p502.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p503.png b/22770-page-images/p503.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1c64a76
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p503.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p504.png b/22770-page-images/p504.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..99a8b1a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p504.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p505.png b/22770-page-images/p505.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8d7d2c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p505.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p506.png b/22770-page-images/p506.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c070843
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p506.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p507.png b/22770-page-images/p507.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cb756cc
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p507.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p508.png b/22770-page-images/p508.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d39d999
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p508.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p509.png b/22770-page-images/p509.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d3450e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p509.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p510.png b/22770-page-images/p510.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b5583f4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p510.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p511.png b/22770-page-images/p511.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1bda067
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p511.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p512.png b/22770-page-images/p512.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb2c6da
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p512.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p513.png b/22770-page-images/p513.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3bce047
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p513.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p514.png b/22770-page-images/p514.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ba84521
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p514.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p515.png b/22770-page-images/p515.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..24d9056
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p515.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p516.png b/22770-page-images/p516.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..34a3aee
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p516.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p517.png b/22770-page-images/p517.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2fc78a2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p517.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p518.png b/22770-page-images/p518.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..31cd0c1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p518.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p519.png b/22770-page-images/p519.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..652a790
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p519.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p520.png b/22770-page-images/p520.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6bc07e6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p520.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p521.png b/22770-page-images/p521.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..26c84cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p521.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p522.png b/22770-page-images/p522.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e56c2d3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p522.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p523.png b/22770-page-images/p523.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2c1aa0d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p523.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p524.png b/22770-page-images/p524.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8e78a42
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p524.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p525.png b/22770-page-images/p525.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..113fdf1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p525.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p526.png b/22770-page-images/p526.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aa39af2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p526.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p527.png b/22770-page-images/p527.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..473f326
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p527.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p528.png b/22770-page-images/p528.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9345acd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p528.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p529.png b/22770-page-images/p529.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..af1a8a1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p529.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p530.png b/22770-page-images/p530.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..64747d5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p530.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p531.png b/22770-page-images/p531.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d5828bd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p531.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p532.png b/22770-page-images/p532.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fc40893
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p532.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p533.png b/22770-page-images/p533.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7b8078e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p533.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p534.png b/22770-page-images/p534.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..93c5a09
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p534.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p535.png b/22770-page-images/p535.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0792803
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p535.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p536.png b/22770-page-images/p536.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..547bd62
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p536.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p537.png b/22770-page-images/p537.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b2aebc5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p537.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p538.png b/22770-page-images/p538.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..46aeda4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p538.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p539.png b/22770-page-images/p539.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e435e08
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p539.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p540.png b/22770-page-images/p540.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d06aa67
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p540.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p541.png b/22770-page-images/p541.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3f9ec28
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p541.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p542.png b/22770-page-images/p542.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2362d4e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p542.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p543.png b/22770-page-images/p543.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b982ba5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p543.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p544.png b/22770-page-images/p544.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f617081
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p544.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p545.png b/22770-page-images/p545.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c0e8319
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p545.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p546.png b/22770-page-images/p546.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0cbfcba
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p546.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p547.png b/22770-page-images/p547.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a4721fa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p547.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p548.png b/22770-page-images/p548.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..95407c6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p548.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p549.png b/22770-page-images/p549.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..07cac86
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p549.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p550.png b/22770-page-images/p550.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f2490a8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p550.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p551.png b/22770-page-images/p551.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1380565
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p551.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p552.png b/22770-page-images/p552.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8c886ac
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p552.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p553.png b/22770-page-images/p553.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a439da2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p553.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p554.png b/22770-page-images/p554.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bf9e744
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p554.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p555.png b/22770-page-images/p555.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ebc4ad9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p555.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p556.png b/22770-page-images/p556.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..adc3614
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p556.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p557.png b/22770-page-images/p557.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f6d0d3b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p557.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p558.png b/22770-page-images/p558.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c743978
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p558.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p559.png b/22770-page-images/p559.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5200555
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p559.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p560.png b/22770-page-images/p560.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0c0102a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p560.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p561.png b/22770-page-images/p561.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..18cd6a6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p561.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p562.png b/22770-page-images/p562.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45aee69
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p562.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p563.png b/22770-page-images/p563.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..81fa0bd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p563.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p564.png b/22770-page-images/p564.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d573ead
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p564.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p565.png b/22770-page-images/p565.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f1ffe67
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p565.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p566.png b/22770-page-images/p566.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a30d96c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p566.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p567.png b/22770-page-images/p567.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0b55606
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p567.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p568.png b/22770-page-images/p568.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f1ac67
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p568.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p569.png b/22770-page-images/p569.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..24e0f59
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p569.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p570.png b/22770-page-images/p570.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..46d3e1a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p570.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p571.png b/22770-page-images/p571.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aeaa507
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p571.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p572.png b/22770-page-images/p572.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d2ead6b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p572.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p573.png b/22770-page-images/p573.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..232bcc6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p573.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p574.png b/22770-page-images/p574.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..39ae936
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p574.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p575.png b/22770-page-images/p575.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dcb6927
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p575.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p576.png b/22770-page-images/p576.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5207058
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p576.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p577.png b/22770-page-images/p577.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..81a281e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p577.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p578.png b/22770-page-images/p578.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aaeb744
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p578.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p579.png b/22770-page-images/p579.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5f0d2bd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p579.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p580.png b/22770-page-images/p580.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..248e63a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p580.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p581.png b/22770-page-images/p581.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2469941
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p581.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p582.png b/22770-page-images/p582.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0ff1bf9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p582.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p583.png b/22770-page-images/p583.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a01ebd0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p583.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p584.png b/22770-page-images/p584.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c96ab0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p584.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p585.png b/22770-page-images/p585.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..df46833
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p585.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p586.png b/22770-page-images/p586.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fd7a8cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p586.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p587.png b/22770-page-images/p587.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63b6a46
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p587.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p588.png b/22770-page-images/p588.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3b7ca4e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p588.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p589.png b/22770-page-images/p589.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8626ced
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p589.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p590.png b/22770-page-images/p590.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8ea366a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p590.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p591.png b/22770-page-images/p591.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7e3b6a6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p591.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p592.png b/22770-page-images/p592.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0d81f0f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p592.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p593.png b/22770-page-images/p593.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d055089
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p593.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p594.png b/22770-page-images/p594.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c1e6a0a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p594.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p595.png b/22770-page-images/p595.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..88ff46b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p595.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p596.png b/22770-page-images/p596.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c767d4d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p596.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p597.png b/22770-page-images/p597.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..40fcd7c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p597.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p598.png b/22770-page-images/p598.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..01c3182
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p598.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p599.png b/22770-page-images/p599.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..02cdb01
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p599.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p600.png b/22770-page-images/p600.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aef9cf4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p600.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p601.png b/22770-page-images/p601.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e1a3265
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p601.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p602.png b/22770-page-images/p602.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5bff755
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p602.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p603.png b/22770-page-images/p603.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..056c01b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p603.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p604.png b/22770-page-images/p604.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1d44ba8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p604.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p605.png b/22770-page-images/p605.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a7d4a98
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p605.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p606.png b/22770-page-images/p606.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..aae809f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p606.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p607.png b/22770-page-images/p607.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2f0941f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p607.png
diff --git a/22770-page-images/p608.png b/22770-page-images/p608.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6938615
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770-page-images/p608.png
diff --git a/22770.txt b/22770.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..63e4e8a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,8112 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5,
+May, 1864, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 5, May, 1864
+       Devoted To Literature And National Policy
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: September 26, 2007 [EBook #22770]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:
+
+DEVOTED TO
+
+LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY.
+
+
+VOL. V.--MAY, 1864.--No. V.
+
+
+
+
+AMERICAN FINANCES AND RESOURCES.
+
+LETTER NO. V. OF HON. ROBERT J. WALKER.
+
+
+LONDON, 10 Half Moon Street, Piccadilly,
+_February 8th, 1864_.
+
+In my third and fourth letters on American finances and resources, the
+following comparisons were instituted: Massachusetts and New Jersey,
+Free States, with Maryland and South Carolina, Slave States; New York
+and Pennsylvania, Free States, with Virginia, Slave State; Rhode Island,
+Free State, with Delaware, Slave State; Illinois, Free State, with
+Missouri, Slave State; the Free States of 1790, with the Slave States of
+that day; the Free States of 1860, with the Slave States of that date.
+These comparisons were based on the official returns of the Census of
+the United States, and exhibited in each case and in the aggregate the
+same invariable result, the vastly superior progress of the Free States
+in wealth, population, and education.
+
+I will now institute one other comparison, Kentucky, slaveholding, with
+Ohio, a Free State.
+
+Kentucky--population in 1790, 73,077; Ohio, none. 1800: Kentucky,
+220,955; Ohio, 45,365. 1860: Kentucky, 1,155,684; Ohio, 2,339,502. We
+must institute the comparison from 1800, as Ohio was a wilderness in
+1790, when Kentucky had a population of 73,077. In Kentucky, the ratio
+of increase of population from 1800 to 1860 was 527.98 per cent., and in
+the same period in Ohio 5,057.08. (Table 1, Census 1860.) Thus from 1800
+to 1860 Ohio increased in nearly tenfold the ratio of Kentucky.
+
+WEALTH.--By Tables 33 and 36, Census of 1860, the value of the product
+of 1859 was as follows:
+
+  Ohio,                   $337,619,000
+
+  Kentucky,                115,408,000
+
+  _Per Capita._
+
+  Ohio,                       $144 31
+
+  Kentucky,                     99 92
+
+Thus is it, that, while in 1790 and 1800 Kentucky was so very far in
+advance of Ohio, yet, in 1860, so vast was the advance of Ohio as
+compared with Kentucky, that the value of the product of Ohio was nearly
+triple that of Kentucky, and, _per capita_, much more than one third
+greater. No reason can be assigned for these remarkable results, except
+that Kentucky was slaveholding, and Ohio a Free State.
+
+Their area is nearly the same, and they are adjacent States; the soil of
+Kentucky is quite equal to that of Ohio, the climate better for crops
+and stock, and the products more various.
+
+We have seen the actual results in 1860, but if Kentucky had increased
+in population from 1800 to 1860 in the same ratio as Ohio, Kentucky then
+would have numbered 11,175,970, or nearly ten times her present
+population; and if the product had been the same as in Ohio, _per
+capita_, the value would have been $1,612,804,230, or more than fourteen
+times greater than the result. Thus it is demonstrated by the official
+Tables of the Census of the United States, that if Kentucky had
+increased in wealth and population from 1800 to 1860 in the same ratio
+as Ohio, the results would have been as follows:
+
+Kentucky: population in 1860, 11,175,970; actual population in 1860,
+1,155,684; value of products in 1860, $1,612,804,230; actual value in
+1860, $115,408,000.
+
+Some attempt has been made to account for these marvellous results, by
+stating that Ohio has a border on one of the lakes, and Kentucky has
+not. But to this it may be replied, that Kentucky borders for twice the
+distance on the Ohio River, has a large front on the Mississippi River,
+and embraces within her limits those noble streams, the Cumberland and
+Tennessee Rivers, making, together with the Big Sandy, Licking,
+Kentucky, Green, and Barren Rivers, the natural advantages of Kentucky
+for navigation, superior to those of Ohio. But a conclusive answer to
+this argument is found in the fact that, omitting all the counties of
+Ohio within the lake region, the remainder, within the valley of the
+Ohio River, contain a population more than one half greater than that of
+the whole State of Kentucky.
+
+LANDS.-The farm lands, improved and unimproved, of Ohio, in 1860, were
+worth $666,564,171. The number of acres 20,741,138, value per acre
+$32.13. (Census of 1860, p. 197, Table 36.) The farm lands of Kentucky,
+improved and unimproved, were worth $291,496,953, the number of acres
+19,163,276, worth per acre, $15.21. (_Ib._) Difference in favor of Ohio,
+$375,067,165. But if to this we add the difference between the value of
+the town and city lots and unoccupied lands of Ohio and Kentucky, the
+sum is $125,009,000, which added to the former sum ($375,067,165) makes
+the difference in favor of Ohio $500,076,165, when comparing the value
+of all her lands with those of Kentucky. We have seen that the value of
+the products in 1860 was, Ohio $337,619,000, Kentucky $115,408,000. But
+these products embrace only agriculture, manufactures, the mines, and
+fisheries.
+
+We have no complete tables for commerce in either State, but the canals
+and railroads are as follows (Census of 1860, No. 38, pp. 225, 226,
+233): Ohio: Miles of railroad, 3,016.83; cost of construction,
+$113,299,514. Kentucky: Miles of railroad, 569.93; cost of construction,
+$19,068,477. Estimated value of freight transported on these railroads
+in 1860: Ohio, $502,105,000; Kentucky, $48,708,000. On the 1st of
+January, 1864, the number of miles of railroad in operation in Ohio was
+3,356.74, costing $130,454,383, showing a large increase since 1860,
+while in Kentucky there was none. (Amer. R. R. Journal, p. 61, vol. 37.)
+Canals in 1860 (Census Table 39): Ohio, 906 miles; Kentucky, two and a
+half miles. These Tables all prove how vast has been the increase of the
+wealth of Ohio as compared with Kentucky.
+
+Let us now examine some of the educational statistics.
+
+By Census Table 37, giving the newspapers and periodicals in the United
+States in 1860, the whole number of that year was 4,051, of which only
+879 were in the Slave States; total number of copies circulated that
+year in the United States, 927,951,548, of which number there were
+circulated in the Slave States only 167,917,188. This Table shows the
+total number of newspapers and periodicals published in Ohio in 1859 was
+340, and the number of copies circulated that year in that State was
+71,767,742. In Kentucky, the number of newspapers and periodicals
+published in 1859 was 77, and the number of copies circulated that year
+was 13,504,044, while South Carolina, professing to instruct and control
+the nation, had a circulation of 3,654,840, although South Carolina, in
+1790, had a population of 249,073, when Ohio was a wilderness, and
+Kentucky numbered only 73,077.
+
+As regards education, we must take the Tables for the Census of 1850,
+those for 1860 not having been yet published.
+
+By Table 144, Census of 1850, the total number of pupils in public and
+private schools, colleges, and academies, was for that year as follows:
+Ohio, 502,826. Kentucky, 85,914. Percentage of native free population
+who cannot read or write (Table 155), Ohio 3.24; Kentucky, 9.12; Slave
+States, native white adults who cannot read or write, ratio 17.23; Free
+States, 4.12. (Table 157.) If we include slaves, more than one half the
+adults of the Slave States cannot read or write. Indeed, it is made by
+law in the Slave States a crime (severely punished) to teach any slave
+to read or write. These Tables also show that in South Carolina, the
+great leader of secession, (including slaves) more than three fourths of
+the people can neither read nor write. Such is the State, rejoicing in
+the barbarism of ignorance and slavery, exulting in the hope of reviving
+the African slave trade, whose chief city witnesses each week the
+auction of slaves as chattels, and whose newspapers, for more than a
+century, are filled with daily advertisements by their masters of
+runaway slaves, describing the brands and mutilations to which they have
+been subjected; that passed the first secession ordinance, and commenced
+the war upon the Union by firing upon the Federal flag and garrison of
+Sumter. Yet it is the pretended advocates of peace that justify this war
+upon the Union, and insist that it shall submit to dismemberment without
+a struggle, and permit slavery to be extended over nearly one half the
+national territory, purchased by the blood and treasure of the nation.
+Such a submission to disintegration and ruin--such a capitulation to
+slavery, would have been base and cowardly. It would have justly merited
+for us the scorn of the present, the contempt of the future, the
+denunciation of history, and the execration of mankind. Despots would
+have exultingly announced that 'man is incapable of self-government;'
+while the heroes and patriots in other countries, who, cheered and
+guided by the light of our example, had struggled in the cause of
+popular liberty, would have sunk despairingly from the conflict. This is
+our _real offence_ to European oligarchy, that we will crush this foul
+rebellion, extinguish the slavery by which it was caused, make the Union
+stronger and more harmonious, and thus give a new impulse and an
+irresistible moral influence and power to free institutions.
+
+Let me recapitulate some of the facts referred to in these letters, and
+established by the Census of the United States.
+
+Area of the United States, 3,250,000 square miles, exceeding that of all
+Europe--all compact and contiguous, with richer lands, more mineral
+resources, a climate more salubrious, more numerous and better harbors,
+more various products, and increasing in wealth and population more
+rapidly than any other country.
+
+
+                                   _Miles._
+  Our ocean shore line, including
+  bays, sounds, and rivers,
+  up to the head of tide
+  water                             33,663
+
+  Lake shore line                    3,620
+
+  Shore line of Mississippi River
+  and its tributaries above tide
+  water                              35,644
+
+  Shore line of all our other rivers
+  above tide water is                49,857
+
+                             Total, 122,784
+
+Our country, then, is better watered than any other, and has more
+navigable streams, and greater hydraulic power.
+
+We have completed since 1790, 5,782 miles of canal, costing
+$148,000,000; and 33,860 miles of railroad (more than all the rest of
+the world), costing $1,625,952,215. (Amer. R. R. Journal, 1864, No.
+1,448, vol. 37, p. 61.)
+
+Our land lines of telegraph exceed those of all the rest of the world,
+the single line from New York to San Francisco being 3,500 miles. Our
+mines of coal, according to Sir William Armstrong, the highest British
+authority, are thirty-two times as great as those of the United Kingdom.
+
+Annual product of our mines of gold and silver, $100,000,000, estimated
+at $150,000,000 per annum by our Commissioner of the General Land
+Office, when the Pacific railroad shall be completed.
+
+Public lands unsold, belonging to the Federal Government, 1,055,911,288
+acres, being 1,649,861 square miles, and more than thirty-two times the
+extent of England.
+
+Immigration to the United States from 1850 to 1860, 2,598,216, adding to
+our national wealth during that decade $1,430,000,000.
+
+Education--granted by Congress since 1790 for the purposes of public
+schools--two sections (1,280 acres) in every township (23,040 acres), in
+all 1,450,000,000 acres of public lands; one eighteenth part given,
+being 80,555,555 acres, worth at the minimum price of $1.25 per acre,
+$100,694,443--the real value, however, was much greater.
+
+Granted by Congress for colleges and universities, 12,080,000 acres,
+including 3,553,824 given by the Federal Government to the State of
+Tennessee, worth, at the minimum price of $1.25 per acre, $15,100,000,
+which is much below their true value.
+
+Total in public lands granted by Federal Government for education,
+92,635,555 acres; minimum value, $115,794,443.
+
+In 1836, after full payment of the entire principal and interest of the
+public debt, there remained in the Federal Treasury a surplus of
+$38,000,000, of which about one half, $19,000,000, was devoted to
+educational purposes.
+
+Total Federal appropriations since 1790 for education, $134,794,443.
+
+This is exclusive of the many millions of dollars expended by the
+Federal Government for military and naval schools, etc., at West Point,
+Washington, Annapolis, and Newport. Besides these Federal donations,
+there has been granted by States, Territories, counties, towns, and
+cities of the Union for education, since 1790 (partly estimated)
+$148,000,000. Grand total by States and Federal Government appropriated
+in the United States since 1790, for education, $282,794,443. This is
+independent of numerous private donations for the same purpose, that by
+Mr. Girard exceeding $1,500,000, and that by Mr. Smithson exceeding
+$500,000. It is then a fact that the Governments of the United States,
+State and Federal, since 1790, have appropriated for education more
+money than all the other Governments of the world combined during the
+same period. This is a stupendous fact, and one of the main causes of
+our wonderful progress and prosperity. We believe that 'knowledge is
+power,' and have appropriated nearly $300,000,000, during the last
+seventy-four years, in aid of the grand experiment. We believe that 'man
+is capable of self-government,' but only when educated and enlightened.
+We believe that the power and wealth and progress of nations increase in
+proportion to the education and enlightenment of the masses. We believe
+in intellectual as well as machine and muscular power, and that when the
+millions are educated, and work with their heads as well as their hands,
+the progress of the nation will be most rapid. Our patent office is a
+wonderful illustration of this principle, showing on the part of our
+industrial classes more valuable inventions and discoveries, annually,
+than are produced by the workingmen of all the rest of the world.
+
+  _Population._
+
+  In 1790,      3,922,827
+  In 1800,      5,305,937
+  In 1810,      7,239,814
+  In 1820,      9,638,191
+  In 1830,     12,866,020
+  In 1840      17,069,453
+  In 1850,     23,191,876
+  In 1860,     31,445,080
+
+RATIO OF INCREASE.--From 1790 to 1800, 35.02; from 1800 to 1810, 36.45;
+from 1810 to 1820, 33.13; from 1820 to 1830, 33.49; from 1830 to 1840,
+32.67; from 1840 to 1850, 35.87; from 1850 to 1860, 35.59. Thus it
+appears (omitting territorial acquisitions) that our ratio of increase
+was much greater from 1850 to 1860 than during any preceding decade.
+This was the result of augmented immigration, which is still to go on
+with increased power for many years. Making allowance for all probable
+contingencies, and reducing the decennial increase from 35.59 to three
+per cent. per annum, our able and experienced Superintendent of the
+Census, in his last official report, of 20th May, 1862, gives his own
+estimate of the future population of the United States:
+
+  1870,      42,328,432
+  1880,      56,450,241
+  1890,      77,263,989
+  1900,     100,355,802
+
+That, in view of our new Homestead law--our high wages--the extinction
+of slavery--increased confidence in our institutions--and augmented
+immigration, these results will be achieved, can scarcely be doubted. As
+population becomes more dense in Europe, there will be an increased
+immigration to our Union, and each new settler writes to his friends
+abroad, and often remits money to induce them to join him in his Western
+home. The electric ocean telegraph will soon unite Europe with America,
+and improved communications are constantly shortening the duration of
+the voyage and diminishing the expense. Besides, this war has made us
+much better known to the European _masses_, who, everywhere, with great
+unanimity and enthusiasm sustain our cause, and, with slavery
+extinguished, will still more prefer our institutions.
+
+From all these causes there will be an augmented exodus from Europe to
+America, when our rebellion is suppressed, and slavery overthrown.
+Besides, the President of the United States now proposes appropriations
+of money by Congress in aid of immigration, and such will become the
+policy of our Government. We have seen the official estimate made by our
+Superintendent of the Census, but if we take the ratio of increase of
+the last decade, the result would be as follows:
+
+  1870,      42,636,858
+  1880,      57,791,315
+  1890,      78,359,243
+  1900,     106,247,297
+
+The estimate of the Superintendent is, therefore, six millions less than
+according to the ratio from 1850 to 1860, and much less than from 1790
+to 1860.
+
+When we reflect that if, as densely settled as Massachusetts, our
+population would exceed 513,000,000, or if numbering as many to the
+square mile as England, our inhabitants would then be more than twelve
+hundred millions, the estimate of 100,000,000 for the year 1900 cannot
+be regarded as improbable.
+
+Our national wealth was
+
+  in 1850,       $7,135,780,228
+
+  In 1860,      $16,159,616,068
+
+  Increase from 1850 to 1860, 126.45 per cent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the same rate of increase for the four succeeding decades, the result
+would be:
+
+  In 1870,    $36,593,450,585
+  In 1880,     82,865,868,849
+  In 1890,    187,314,053,225
+  In 1900,    423,330,438,288
+
+  _Tonnage._
+
+  In 1841,               1,368,127 tons.
+  "  1851,               3,772,439 "
+  "  1861,               5,539,812 "
+
+  At the same rate of increase as from 1851 to 1861, the result would be:
+
+  In 1871,             8,134,578 tons.
+  "  1881,            11,952,817 "
+  "  1891,            17,541,514 "
+  "  1901,            25,758,948 "
+
+Total number of copies of our newspapers and periodicals circulated in
+the United States in 1860, 927,951,548, exceeding that of all the rest
+of the world.
+
+Let us now recapitulate the results from our Census, founded on a
+comparison of the Slave and Free States.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MASSACHUSETTS.--Free State.                   MARYLAND.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 7,800 square miles                     11,124 square miles.
+Population in 1790, 378,717                  319,728.
+    "         1860, 1,231,066                687,049.
+Products in 1859, $287,000,000               $66,000,000.
+    "    per capita, $235                    $96.
+Railroads, 1,340 miles                       380 miles.
+    " cost, $61,857,203                      $21,387,157.
+Freight of 1860, $500,524,201                $101,111,348.
+Tonnage built in 1860, 34,460 tons           7,789.
+Bank capital, $64,519,200                    $12,568,962.
+Imports and exports, $58,190,816             $18,786,323.
+Value of property, $815,237,433              $376,919,944.
+Gross profit on capital,
+  35 per cent                                17 per cent.
+Copies of press circulated
+  in 1860, 102,000,760                       20,723,472.
+Pupils at public schools
+  in 1860, 176,475                           33,254.
+Volumes in public libraries,
+  684,015                                    125,042.
+Value of churches, $10,206,000               $3,947,884.
+
+
+NEW YORK.--Free State.                       VIRGINIA.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 47,000 square miles                    61,392 square miles.
+Population in 1790, 340,120                  748,308.
+     "        1860, 3,880,735                1,596,318.
+Product of 1859, $606,000,000                $120,000,000.
+Per capita, $156                             $75.
+Gross profit on capital,
+  34 per cent                                15 per cent.
+Value per acre of
+  farm lands, $38.26                         $11.91.
+Railroads, 2,842 miles                       1,771 miles.
+   " cost of construction,
+  $138,395,055                               $64,958,807.
+Freight in 1860, $579,681,790                $110,000,000.
+Canals, 1,038 miles                          178 miles.
+  " cost, $67,567,972                        $7,817,000.
+Tonnage built in 1860, 31,936                4,372.
+Bank capital, $111,441,320                   $16,005,156.
+Exports and imports,
+  1860, $394,045,326                         $7,184,273.
+Copies of press circulated
+  in 1860, 320,980,884                       26,772,518.
+Pupils at public schools
+  in 1860, 675,221                           67,428.
+Volumes in public libraries,
+  1,760,820                                  88,462.
+Value of churches, $21,539,561               $2,002,220.
+Percentage of native free
+  population who cannot
+  read or write, 1.87                        19.90.
+
+Compare the column as regards Virginia with the returns for
+Pennsylvania, and the result is nearly as remarkable as that of New
+York.
+
+Pennsylvania, area 46,000, population in 1790, 434,373; in 1860,
+2,900,115. Products of 1859, $399,600,000, _per capita_, $138, profit on
+capital, 22 per cent. Value of farm lands per acre, $38.91. Railroads,
+2,690 miles, costing $147,483,410. Canals, 1,259 miles, costing
+$42,015,000. Tonnage built in 1860, 21,615 tons. Bank capital,
+$25,565,582. Exports and imports, $20,262,608, Copies of press
+circulated in 1860,116,094,480. Pupils at public schools, 413,706.
+Volumes in public libraries, 363,400. Value of churches, $11,853,291.
+
+
+ILLINOIS.--Free State.                     MISSOURI.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 55,405 square miles                    67,380 square miles.
+
+Population, 1810, 12,282                     20,845.
+      " 1860, 1,711,951                      1,182,012.
+
+Ratio of increase from 1810 to 1860,
+13,838 per ct.                               5,570.
+
+Railroads in operation in 1860, 2,868 miles  817 miles.
+
+Ditto, 1st of January, 1864, 3,080 miles     914 miles.
+
+Value of farm lands, 1860, $432,531,072      $230,632,126.
+
+Canals, 102 miles                            none.
+
+Ratio of increased value of property from
+1850 to 1860, 458 per cent.                  265 per cent.
+
+At same ratio from 1860 to 1870, as from
+1850 to 1860, total wealth in 1870 would
+be $3,993,000,000                            $1,329,000,000.
+
+
+RHODE ISLAND.--Free State.                   DELAWARE.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 1,306 square miles                     2,120 square miles.
+
+Population in 1792, 69,110                   59,096.
+      "       1860, 174,520                  112,216.
+
+Product in 1859, $52,400,000                 $16,100,000.
+
+Value of property in 1860, $135,000,000      $46,242,181.
+
+Bank capital, $20,865,569                    $1,640,675.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 5,289,280    1,010,776.
+
+Pupils at public schools, 23,130             8,970.
+
+Volumes in public libraries, 104,342         17,950.
+
+Pupils at colleges and academies, 3,664      764.
+
+Percentage of native free adults who cannot
+read or write, 1.49                          23.03.
+
+Value of churches, $1,293,700                $340,345.
+
+
+NEW JERSEY.--Free State.                     SOUTH CAROLINA.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 8,320 square miles                     24,500 square miles.
+
+Population in 1790, 184,139                  249,073.
+    "         1860, 672,035                  703,708.
+
+Ratio of increase from 1790 to 1860,
+265 per cent.                                182 per cent.
+
+Population per square mile in 1860, 80.77    28.72.
+
+Increase of population per square mile
+from 1790 to 1860, 58.64 per cent.           18.55 per cent.
+
+Ditto from 1850 to 1860, 21.93 per cent.     1.44 per cent.
+
+Population in 1860, remaining the same per   Population in 1860, remaining
+square mile, if area equal to that of South  the same per _square mile_, if
+Carolina, 1,978,650.                         area equal to that of New
+                                             Jersey, 238,950.
+
+Product of 1859, $167,398,003                $46,445,782.
+
+Per capita, $249                             $66.
+
+Farm lands, 1860, improved and unimproved
+acres, 2,983,531                             15,595,860.
+
+Value in 1860, $180,250,338                  $139,652,508.
+
+Agricultural products of 1860, $86,398,000   $39,645,728.
+
+Product per acre, $28.96                     $2.54.
+
+Improved lands, 1,944,445 acres              4,572,060 acres.
+
+Product per acre, $44.43                     $8.67.
+
+Value of farm lands per acre, $60.42         $8.95.
+
+                                             Value of farm lands, if worth
+                                             as much per acre as those of
+                                             New Jersey, $942,660,377.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 12,801,412   3,654,840.
+
+Percentage of native free adults who cannot
+read or write, 5.10                          12.73.
+
+Percentage of native white children at
+school, 80.56.                               26.025.
+
+Pupils at colleges, academies, and public
+schools, 88,244                              26.025.
+
+Value of churches, $3,712,863                $2,181,476.
+
+MICHIGAN.--Free State.                       FLORIDA.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 56,243 square miles.                   59,268 square miles.
+
+Population, 1810,   4,762                    16,989, Spanish.
+    "       1820,   8,765                    23,801,    "
+    "       1830,  31,639                    34,730.
+    "       1860, 749,113                    140,425.
+
+Population per square mile in 1810, 0.08     0.28.
+    "       "      "          1820, 0.15     0.38.
+"           "      "          1830, 0.56     0.58.
+"           "      "          1860, 13.32    2.37.
+
+Absolute increase of population from
+1830 to 1860, 717,474                        105,695.
+
+Relative rank in 1830, 25                    26.
+"          "     1860, 16                    31.
+
+Absolute increase of population from
+1850 to 1860 per _square mile_, 6.25         0.89.
+
+Value of total product of 1859, $99,200,000  $12,300,000.
+
+Of agriculture alone, $64,000,000            $9,600,000.
+
+Total product per capita, $132.04            $87.59.
+
+Farm lands improved and unimproved in 1860,
+     6,931,442 acres                         2,849,572 acres.
+
+Improved farm lands, 1860, 3,419,861 acres   676,464 acres.
+
+Value of lands improved and unimproved in
+1860, $163,279,087                           $16,371,684.
+
+Product per acre, $9.23                      $3.01.
+   " of improved land, $18.71                $14.18.
+
+Value of farm lands, 1860, per acre, $23.55  $5.74.
+
+                                             Value of farm lands of
+                                             Florida, if worth as much
+                                             _per acre_ as those of
+                                             Michigan, $67,105,222.
+
+                                             Product of Florida lands, if
+                                             equal_ per acre_ to those of
+                                             Michigan, in 1859,
+                                             $26,300,549.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 11,606,596   1,081,601.
+
+Percentage of native free adults, who cannot
+read or write, 2.84                          9.18.
+
+Public libraries, 107,943 volumes            2,660 volumes.
+
+Pupils in public schools, academies, and
+colleges, 112,382                            3,129.
+
+Percentage of native white children at
+school, 99.53                                35.77.
+
+
+WISCONSIN.--Free State.                      TEXAS.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 53,924 square miles                    274,356 square miles.
+
+Population in 1840, 30,749                   80,983. (Republic.)
+"             1860, 775,881                  604,215.
+
+Population per square mile in 1840, 0.57     0.29.
+     "      "      "          1860, 8.99     2.20.
+
+Increase per square mile from 1840 to 1860,
+8.42.                                        1.91.
+
+Absolute increase of population from 1850
+to 1860 per square mile, 8.99                1.41.
+
+Value of total product of 1859, $101,375,000 $52,749,000.
+
+Of agriculture alone, $72,875,000            $46,499,000.
+
+Total product per capita, $130.39            $87.30.
+
+Farm lands improved and unimproved,
+7,899,170 acres                              23,245,433 acres.
+
+Improved farm lands, 1860, 3,746,036 acres   2,649,207 acres.
+
+Value of lands improved and unimproved in
+1860, $131,117,082                           $104,007,689.
+
+Product per acre of improved and unimproved
+lands in 1859, $9.22                         $2.00.
+
+Product per acre of improved lands in 1859,
+$19.45                                       $17.56.
+
+Value of farm lands per acre, $16.59         $4.47.
+
+                                             Value of farm lands of Texas,
+                                             if worth as much per acre as
+                                             those of Wisconsin,
+                                             $385,641,733.
+
+                                             Product of Texas lands in
+                                             1859, if equal per acre to
+                                             those of Wisconsin,
+                                             $214,212,892.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 10,798,670   7,855,808.
+
+Percentage of native free adults who cannot
+read or write, 1.04                          11.84.
+
+Public libraries, 21,020 volumes             4,230 volumes.
+
+Pupils in colleges and public schools,
+61,615                                       11,500.
+
+Percentage of native white children at
+school, 74.90                                45.82.
+
+
+INDIANA.--Free State.                        TENNESSEE.--Slave State.
+
+Area, 33,809 square miles                    45,600 square miles.
+
+Population, 1790, none                       35,791.
+    "           1800, 4,875                  105,602.
+    "           1860, 1,350,428              1,109,801.
+
+Product of 1859, $175,690,628                $99,894,070.
+
+Agricultural, $132,440,682                   $82,792,070.
+
+Total product, per capita, $130.10           $90.01.
+
+Product of agriculture, per capita, $90.68   $74.60.
+
+Population per square mile in 1800, 0.14     2.31.
+
+Population per square mile, 1860, 39.63      24.34.
+
+Absolute increase of population, from 1850
+to 1860, per square mile, 10.72              2.35.
+
+Relative rank in 1800, 20                    15.
+"            "   1860, 6                     10.
+
+Farm lands improved and unimproved,
+16,315,776 acres                             20,355,934 acres.
+
+Improved do., 8,161,717 acres                6,897,974 acres.
+
+Value of farm lands, $344,903,776            $272,555,054.
+
+Ditto, per acre, $21.13                      $13.39.
+
+Value of product per acre of improved and
+unimproved farm lands, $8.17                 $4.06.
+
+Ditto, of Improved farm lands, $16.26        $12.
+
+Volumes in public libraries, 68,403          22,896.
+
+Pupils at public schools and colleges,
+168,754                                      115,750.
+
+
+FREE STATES OF 1790.                         SLAVE STATES OF 1790.
+
+Namely: Massachusetts (then including        Namely: Delaware, Maryland,
+Maine), Rhode Island, Connecticut,           Virginia, North Carolina,
+New Hampshire, Vermont, New York,            South Carolina, Georgia,
+New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.                Kentucky, and Tennessee.
+
+Area, 169,668 square miles                   300,580 square miles.
+
+Population in 1790, 1,968,459                1,961,372.
+
+"             1860, 10,594,168               7,414,684.
+
+Population per square mile in 1790, 11.60    6.50.
+
+"               "        "    1860, 62.44    24.66.
+
+Increase of population per square mile,
+from 1790 to 1860, 50.84                     18.14.
+
+
+FREE STATES OF 1860.                         SLAVE STATES OF 1860.
+
+Area, 835,631 square miles                   888,591 square miles.
+
+Farm lands, 161,462,000 acres                248,721,062 acres.
+
+Value, $4,067,947,286                        $2,570,466,935.
+
+Value per acre, $25.19                       $10.46.
+
+Total product of 1859, namely: of
+agriculture, manufactures, mines, and
+fisheries, $4,150,000,000                    $1,140,000,000.
+
+Per capita, $217                             $93.
+
+Copies of press issued in 1860, 760,034,360  167,917,188.
+
+By Table 157 (Census of 1850), ratio of
+native white adults who cannot read or
+write, 4.12 per cent.                        17.23 per cent. (more than
+                                             4 to 1).
+
+Same Tables for Census of 1860, partially
+estimated, 3.21 per cent                     17.03 percent. (more than
+                                             5 to 1).
+
+                                             Whole additional value of all
+                                             the Slave States, whether farm
+                                             lands or unoccupied, if worth
+                                             as much per acre as those of
+                                             the Free States,
+                                             $5,859,246,616.
+
+                                             Total value of products of the
+                                             Slave States in 1859, if equal
+                                             per capita to those of the
+                                             Free States, $2,653,631,032.
+
+                                             Deduct actual products of
+                                             1859, $1,140,000,000.
+
+                                             Absolute increase of 1859, if
+                                             Free States $1,513,631,032.
+
+                                             That is, the _additional_
+                                             value of the actual products
+                                             of the Slave States, caused by
+                                             emancipation, $1,513,631,032.
+
+Total value of all the property, real and    Ditto, of all the Slave
+personal, of the Free States in 1860,        States, including slaves,
+ $5,225,307,034.                             852,081,081.
+$10,
+
+Annual gross profit of capital, 39 per cent. 22 per cent.
+
+                                             If we could add the annual
+                                             earnings of commerce (not
+                                             included in the Census
+s T                                          Tables), the yearly product
+                                             of the Free States per capita
+                                             would be almost triple that of
+                                             the Slave States, the commerce
+                                             of New York alone being nearly
+                                             equal to that of the entire
+                                             South.
+
+Total agricultural product of Free States
+in 1859, $2,527,676,000                      $862,324,000 (Slave States).
+
+Agricultural product of Free States per      Ditto of Slave States per capita
+capita in 1859, $131.48                      in 1859, $70.56
+
+Ditto, per acre in 1859, improved and
+unimproved lands, $15.65                     $3.58
+
+Ditto, per acre, improved lands, $28.68      $11.55
+
+It is thus demonstrated by the official statistics of the Census of the
+United States, from 1790 to 1860, that the total annual product of the
+Free States _per capita_ exceeds that of the Slave States, largely more
+than two to one, and, including commerce, very nearly three to one. As
+regards education, also, we see that the ratio in favor of the Free
+States is more than four to one in 1850 (4.12 to 17.23), and, in 1860,
+more than five to one (3.21 to 17.03). And even as regards agricultural
+products, we have seen that those of the Free States were $2,527,676,000
+per annum, and of the Slave States only $862,324,000. The value of the
+lands of the Free States was $25.19 per acre, of the Slave States only
+$10.46 per acre; the product of the improved lands of the Free States
+was $26.68 _per acre_ and of the Slave States $11.55, while, _per
+capita_, the result was $131.48 to $70.56.
+
+These facts prove how much greater the crops of the Slave States would
+be, if their farms (including cotton) were cultivated by free labor. It
+is also thus demonstrated how completely the fertile lands of the South
+are exhausted and reduced in value by slave culture. Having thus proved,
+deductively, the ruinous effects of slavery, I will proceed, in my next
+letter, inductively, to exhibit the causes which have produced these
+remarkable results.
+
+                                                         R. J. WALKER.
+
+
+
+
+AENONE:
+
+A TALE OF SLAVE LIFE IN ROME.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+The day wore quietly on, like any other day; for the confusion and
+turmoil of the ovation were already a half-forgotten thing of the past,
+and Rome had again subsided into its usual course: in the earlier hours,
+a city of well-filled streets, astir and vocal with active and vigorous
+trade and labor; then--as the noontide sun shed from the brazen sky a
+molten glow, that fell like fire upon the lava pavement, and glanced
+from polished walls until the whole atmosphere seemed like a furnace--a
+city seemingly deserted, except by a few slaves, engaged in removing the
+triumphal arches hung with faded and lifeless flowers, and by a soldier
+here and there in glistening armor, keeping a lonely watch; and
+again--as the sun sank toward the west, and, with the lengthening
+shadows, the intensity of the heat diminished--a city flooded with
+wealth and fashion, pouring in confused streams hither and thither,
+through its broadest avenues and forums--groups of idlers sauntering
+along to watch the inoccupation of others, and with the prospective bath
+as the pretence for the stroll--matrons and maidens of high degree, with
+attendants following them--a rattle of gayly caparisoned chariots, with
+footmen trotting beside the wheels--guards on horseback--detachments of
+praetorian soldiers passing up and down--here the car of a senator of the
+broad purple--there the mounted escort of a Syrian governor--all that
+could speak of magnificence, wealth, and authority, at that hour
+thronged the pavement.
+
+Leaving the Vanno palace, AEnone joined herself to this moving concourse.
+At her side walked one of her bondwomen, and, at a pace or two behind,
+properly attired, and armed only with a short sword, strode the armor
+bearer. Thus attended, she pressed forward along the Appian Way toward
+the outskirts of the city--past broad palaces and villas, with
+encircling gardens and open paved courts--past shrubberies, fish ponds,
+and statue-crowned terraces--past public baths, through whose broad
+doorways the people swarmed by hundreds, and whose steps were thronged
+with waiting slaves; now stopping until the armor bearer, running to the
+front, could make a passage for her through some crowd denser than
+ordinary--then gliding onward with more rapid pace, as the way became
+clearer--and again arresting herself for a moment as the stream of
+people also tarried to watch the approach of the gorgeous chariot and
+richly uniformed guards of the emperor Titus Vespasian. At length,
+turning the corner of a pillar-porticoed temple, which stood back from
+the street, and up the gentle ascent of whose steps a concourse of
+priests and attendants were forcing a garland-decked bullock,
+unconscious of the sacrificial rites which awaited him within, she stood
+beyond the surging of the crowd and in a quiet little street.
+
+It was a narrow avenue, in whose humble architecture brick took the
+place of stone; but by no means mean or filthy, like so many of the
+streets of similar width in the central portion of the city. Stretching
+out toward the open country, and not given up to merchandise or slave
+quarters, its little houses had their gardens and clustering vines about
+them, supplying with the picturesque whatever was wanting in
+magnificence, and evidencing a pleasant medium between wealth and
+poverty. The paved roadway was clean and unbroken; and far down as the
+eye could reach no life could be seen, except a single slave with a
+fruit basket balanced upon his head, and near him a group of children at
+play.
+
+Passing down this street, AEnone came to a spot where one of the great
+aqueducts which supplied the city, crossed the roadway diagonally with a
+single span. At the right hand stood a small brick house, built into the
+nearest arch so snugly that it seemed as though its occupants could
+almost hear the gurgling of the water flowing overhead from the hills of
+Albanus. Like the other houses in its neighborhood, it had a small
+courtyard in front, planted with a shrub or two. This was the home of
+her father, the centurion Porthenus. Stopping here, she was about to
+enter without warning, according to her usual custom, but as she
+advanced, a dwarf, whom she recognized as the same which that morning
+had so eagerly presented himself for notice in the front of her
+husband's captives, sprang forward, grinned his recognition of the armor
+bearer, made another grimace expressive of mingled respect and
+admiration for herself, threw open the door, and ushered her in with an
+outburst of ceremonious pride befitting an imperial reception.
+
+At a back window of the house, from whence the line of aqueduct could be
+seen for some distance leaping houses and streets in its undeviating
+course to the centre of the city, sat the centurion. He was a man of
+medium height, short necked, and thick set, with blunted features and
+grizzled hair and beard. Two of the fingers of his left hand were
+wanting, and a broad scar, the trophy of a severe skirmish among the
+Alemanni, crossed his right cheek and one side of his nose, giving him
+an expression more curious than pleasing. His general appearance was
+after the common type of an old, war-worn soldier, rough and
+unscrupulous by nature, hardened by camp life and dissipation, grown
+cruel by excess of petty authority, overbearing with his inferiors,
+jovial and complaisant with his equals, cringing to his superiors, and
+with an air of discontent overlaying every other expression, as though
+he was continually tortured with the belief that his success in life had
+not equalled his merits. As AEnone entered, he was bending over a shield,
+and earnestly engaged in burnishing its brazen mouldings. At his side
+leaned a short sword, awaiting similar attention, and in a rack beside
+him were a number of weapons of different varieties and sizes, which had
+already submitted to his restorative skill, and now shone like glass.
+
+Hearing her light step, he looked up, arose, flung the shield into a
+corner, and, with a roar, as though ordering a battalion, called out to
+the grinning dwarf, who had followed her in:
+
+"Ho there, ape! A seat for my daughter, the wife of the imperator
+Sergius Vanno!"
+
+The dwarf sprang forward and dragged out a seat for her; having done
+which, he seemed about to yield to his curiosity and remain. But the
+centurion, disapproving of such freedom, made a lunge at him with the
+small sword, before which the dwarf retired with a precipitate leap, and
+joined the bondwoman and armor bearer outside. Then the father, being
+left alone with his daughter, embraced her, and uttered such words of
+welcome as his rough nature suggested.
+
+As regarded his intercourse with her, perhaps the most noticeable traits
+were the mingled reverence and familiarity with which he treated her. It
+seemed as though he was actuated by an ever-pervading consciousness that
+her exalted position demanded the observance of the deepest respect
+toward her; but that this feeling was connected in his mind with an
+unceasing struggle to remember that, after all, she was his own child,
+and as such was not entitled to any undue consideration from him. Upon
+the present occasion, he first timidly touched her cheek with his lips
+and uttered a gentle and almost courtly salutation; but immediately
+recollecting himself, and appearing to become impressed with the belief
+that his unwitting deference was unworthy of the character of a father,
+he proceeded to atone for the mistake by a rough and discomposing
+embrace, and such a familiar and frolicksome greeting as none but a camp
+follower would have felt flattered with. Then, seating himself before
+her, he commenced his conversation in a rude and uncouth tone, and with
+rather a forced affectation of military bluntness; from which, however,
+as his eye dwelt upon the richness of her apparel and his mind began to
+succumb to the charm of her native refinement, he gradually and
+unconsciously subsided, in turn, into his former soft and deferential
+manner.
+
+'And so the imperator Sergius Vanno has returned,' he said, rolling upon
+his tongue, with evident satisfaction, that high-sounding title--once
+the acknowledged appellation of a conqueror, but now claimed as a right
+by the imperial line alone, and no longer elsewhere bestowed except as
+an informal and transitory compliment. 'It was a splendid ovation, and
+well earned by a glorious campaign. There is no one in all the Roman
+armies who could have managed it better.'
+
+Nevertheless, with unconscious inconsistency, he immediately began to
+show wherein the campaign could have been improved, and how many gross
+mistakes were visible in every portion of it--how the force of Mutius
+should have been diverged more in advancing inland--how, in the battle
+along the shore, the three-oared galleys of Agricola should have been
+drawn up to support the attack--the consequence of this omission, if the
+leading cohort had met with a repulse--and the like. All this he marked
+out upon the floor with a piece of coal, taking but little heed that
+AEnone could not follow him; and step by step, in the ardor of criticism,
+he advanced so far that he was soon ready to prove that the campaign had
+been most wofully misconducted, and was only indebted to accident for
+success.
+
+'But it is of little use for me to talk, if I cannot act as well,' he at
+length concluded, rising from the floor. 'And how could I act any part,
+placed as I am? The father of the wife of the imperator Sergius Vanno
+should be the leader of a cohort rather than of a mere century; and be
+otherwise lodged than in this poor place. Then would they listen to
+him.'
+
+He spoke bitterly and enviously, exhibiting in his whole tone as well as
+in his words his besetting weakness. For a while AEnone did not answer.
+It was as far from her duty as from her taste and pleasure to remind
+him, even if she could have done so to his comprehension, that her
+husband had already advanced him as far as was possible or fitting, and
+had otherwise provided for him in various ways as well as could
+reasonably be expected. The views of the centurion were of a far
+different nature. In giving his daughter to the patrician he had meanly
+intended thereby to rise high in life--had anticipated ready promotion
+beyond what his ignorance would have justified--had supposed that he
+would be admitted upon an equal social footing among the friends of
+Sergius, not realizing that his own native roughness and brutishness
+must have forbidden such a connection--had dazzled his eyes too wilfully
+with pictures of the wealth and influence and glory that would fall to
+his lot. As long, therefore, as so many of those gilded imaginings had
+failed in their promise, it seemed as nothing to him that Sergius, in
+the first flush of admiration for the daughter, had removed the father
+from rough provincial to more pleasing and relaxing urban duties, had
+purchased him a house befitting his station, and had lightened his
+condition in various ways.
+
+'But we are gradually doing better,' AEnone said at length, striving to
+cheer him by identifying her fortunes more nearly with his own, 'This is
+a finer place than we had to live in at Ostia. Think how narrow and
+crowded we were then. And now I see that we have a new slave to open for
+us, while at Ostia we had only old Mitus. Indeed, we are very
+comfortable.'
+
+'Ay, ay,' growled the centurion; 'a new slave--a dwarf or idiot, or what
+not--just such a creature as would not bring five sestertia in the
+market; and, therefore, the imperator has cast him to me, like a bare
+bone to a dog. Tell him I thank him for the gift. And in this matter it
+has been with me as always heretofore--either no luck at all, or too
+much. How often have I not passed a campaign without taking a prisoner,
+while they fell in crowds to all around me? And when at last I gained my
+share, when was it ever of any value to me, being hundreds of miles from
+a market? And here it is the same again. For months, no slave at all;
+and then all at once there are two, and I shall be,eaten out of my
+house.'
+
+'Two, father?'
+
+'Listen to me. No sooner did your honored lord send me this dwarf, than
+arrives Tisiphon of the twelfth cohort. He had long owed me a slave; and
+now that a captive, poor and feeble, and likely to die, had fallen into
+his hands, he thought it a fair opportunity to acquit himself toward me.
+But for once Tisiphon has cheated himself. The slave he brought was weak
+and sick, but it was only from want of food and rest. The fellow will
+recover, and I will yet make much of him. Would you see him? Look out of
+the back window there. He will turn out a fine slave yet, and, if this
+dwarf had not come, would be right pleasing to me. But two of them! How
+shall I find bread for both?'
+
+AEnone walked to the window, and leaned out. The courtyard behind was but
+limited in size, containing a few squares of burnt brick arranged for
+pavement around a small plot of grass at the foot of a single plane
+tree. The slave of whom the centurion spoke was seated upon this plot,
+with his back against the tree, and his head bent over, while, with
+vacant mind, he watched the play of a small green lizard. As she
+appeared at the window, he raised his eyes toward her, then dropped them
+again upon the ground. It was hardly, in fact, as much as could be
+called a look--a mere glance, rather, a single tremor of the drooping
+lid, a mute appeal for sympathy, as though there had been an inner
+instinct which, at that instant, had directed him to her, as one who
+could feel pity for his trouble and desolation. But at that glance,
+joined to something strangely peculiar in the captive's figure and
+attitude, a nervous thrill shot through AEnone's heart, causing her to
+hold her breath in unreasoning apprehension; a fear of something which
+she could not explain, a dim consciousness of some forgotten association
+of the past arising to confront her, but which she could not for the
+moment identify. And still she looked out, resisting the impulse of
+dread which bade her move away, fixing a strained gaze upon the captive,
+in a vain struggle to allay, by one moment of calm scrutiny, that
+phantom of her memory which, act as she might, would not be repressed,
+but which each instant seemed to expand into clearer certainty before
+her.
+
+'Do you see him? Does he appear to you a worthy slave?' cried the
+centurion.
+
+'A worthy slave, indeed,' she answered, in a low tone, feeling compelled
+to make some response.
+
+At her voice, the captive again raised his head, and looked into her
+face; not now with a hasty, timid glance, but with the full gaze of one
+who believes he has been spoken to, and waits for a renewal of the
+question. And as she met the inquiring look, AEnone turned away and sank
+back in terror and dismay. She knew it all, now, nor could she longer
+deceive herself by vain pretences or assurances. The instinct which, at
+the first had filled her soul with that unexplained dread, had not been
+false to her. For that glance, as it now rested upon her with, longer
+duration and deeper intensity, too surely completed the suggestion
+which, at the first it had faintly whispered to her, flashing into her
+heart the long-stifled memories of the past, recalling the time when, a
+few years before, she had sat upon the rock at Ostia, and had gazed down
+upon eyes lifted to meet her own with just so beseeching an appeal, and
+telling her too truly that she stood again in the presence of him to
+whom she had then promised her girlish faith, and whom she had so long
+since looked upon as dead to her.
+
+'I will call him in,' said the centurion, 'and you can see him closer.'
+
+'Nay, nay, father; let him remain where he is,' she exclaimed, in
+uncontrollable dread of recognition.
+
+'Ha! art not afraid, girl?' demanded the old man. 'He can do no hurt,
+even were he stronger; and now that he is weak, a child could lead him
+with a string. Come hither, sirrah!'
+
+The captive arose, smoothed down his tunic, and, obediently entering the
+house, awaited commands; while AEnone, with as quiet movement as
+possible, shrunk, into the most distant corner of the room. What if he
+should recognize her, and should call upon her by name, not knowing her
+changed position, or recollecting his own debasement into slavery? What
+explanation other than the true one could she give to account for his
+audacity, and save him from the chastisement which the offended
+centurion would prepare to bestow upon him? This was but a momentary
+fear, however, since she felt that the increasing glow of evening, added
+to her own alteration by dress, and the certainty that he would not
+expect to meet her thus, found a sure protection against recognition, as
+long as she took care not to risk betrayal by her voice or manner. And,
+perhaps, after all--and her heart lightened somewhat at the thought--it
+might be that her reason had too freely yielded to an insane fancy, and
+allowed her to be deceived by a chance resemblance.
+
+'How is he called?' she inquired, disguising her voice as thoroughly as
+she could. The instant she had spoken she would have retracted her
+words, if possible, from the mere fear lest her father, in his response,
+might mention her name. But it luckily chanced that the centurion did
+not do so.
+
+'How is he called? Nay, that thing I had not thought to ask as yet. Your
+name, slave?'
+
+'Cleotos.'
+
+At the word, the blood again flew back to her heart. There could now no
+longer be a doubt. How often had she repeated that name endearingly, in
+those early days of her first romance in life!
+
+'Cleotos,' said the centurion. 'It is a brave name. There was once a
+leader of a full phalanx with that name, and he did well to the empire.
+It is, therefore, scarcely a name for a slave to bear. But we will talk
+some other time about that. It is of thine appearance now, that we will
+speak. Is he not, after all, a pleasing youth? Did Tisiphon so surely
+deceive me as he intended, when he gave the man to me? See! there is but
+little brawn and muscle to him, I grant; and therefore he will not make
+a good gladiator or even spearman; but he has a comely shape, which will
+fit him well for a page or palace usher. And, therefore, I will sell him
+for such. He should bring a good price, indeed, when the marks of his
+toil and sickness have gone off from him, and he has been fattened into
+better condition. But two of them!' continued the centurion, suddenly
+recurring to his former source of grief. 'How can I fatten him when
+there are two of them? How find bread for both? And yet he is not so
+very thin, now. I will light a lamp, daughter, for it has grown quite
+dark, and you shall come nearer and examine him.'
+
+'Nay! nay!' exclaimed AEnone, in hurried resistance of this new danger.
+'Not now. I am no judge of the merits of captives, and it is getting
+late. I know that my lord will be expecting me, and perchance will be
+vexed if I delay.'
+
+'Be it so, then,' responded the other. 'And as it is dark, it is not
+befitting that you should go without escort. Take, therefore--'
+
+'I have the armor bearer for my escort, father.'
+
+'It is something, but not enough,' said the centurion. 'Enough for
+safety, but not for dignity. Remember that, while on the one hand you
+are the wife of the imperator Sergius Vanno, you are also a daughter of
+the house of Porthenus--a family which was powerful in the far-off days
+of the republic, long before the house of Vanno had begun to take root,'
+he continued, in a tone of pride. For then, as now, poverty consoled
+itself for its privations by dreams--whether well or ill founded, it
+mattered but little--of grandeurs which had once existed; and it was one
+of the weaknesses of the centurion to affect superiority of blood, and
+try to believe that therein he enjoyed compensations beyond anything
+that wealth could bestow.
+
+'Of the house of Porthenus,' he repeated, 'and should therefore be
+suitably attended. So let this new slave follow behind. And take, also,
+the dwarf. He is not of soldierly appearance, but for all that he will
+count as one more.'
+
+Fearful of offending her father by a refusal, or of encountering
+additional risks of recognition by a more prolonged conversation at the
+doorway, now brightened by the light of the newly risen moon, AEnone
+hastily assented, and started upon her homeward route. Clinging closely
+to the side of her bondwoman, not daring to look back for a parting
+adieu to her father, who stood at the door leaning upon his sword, and
+grimly smiling with delight at fancying his child at last attended as
+became a scion of the house of Porthenus--not regarding the
+half-smothered oaths and exclamations of contempt with which the armor
+bearer behind her surveyed his two new companions upon guard--she
+pressed rapidly on, with the sole desire of reaching her house and
+secluding herself from further danger of recognition.
+
+The moon rose higher, silvering the city with charms of new beauty,
+gleaming upon the surface of the swift-rolling Tiber, giving fresh
+radiance to the marble palaces and temples, adding effect to whatever
+was already beautiful, diminishing the deformity of whatever was
+unlovely, even imparting a pleasant aspect of cheerfulness to the lower
+quarters of the city, where lay congregated poverty and dishonor and
+crime. The Appian Way no longer swarmed with the crowd that had trodden
+it an hour ago. The priests had completed the sacrifice and left the
+temple, the bathers had departed, the slaves no longer lingered upon the
+porticos, and the riders in gay chariots no more were to be seen. A
+calmer and more quiet occupancy of the street had ensued. Here and there
+a soldier paced to and fro, looking up at the moon and down again, at
+the glistening river, and thought, perhaps, upon other night watches in
+Gallia, when just such a moon had gleamed upon the silver Rhone. Here
+and there two lovers, loth to abandon such a pleasant light and warmth,
+strolled slowly along, and, as lovers have ever done, bade the moon
+witness their vows. But not the river or the moonlight did AEnone now
+linger to look upon, nor lovers' vows did she think about, as she glided
+hastily toward her own home. The peacefulness and quiet of nature found
+no response in her heart. Her only emotion was one of dread lest each
+ray of light might shine too brightly upon her--lest even her walk might
+betray her--lest every sound might be an unguarded recognition from the
+poor, unconscious captive behind her.
+
+At length she reached her home, passed up the broad flight of steps in
+front, and stood panting within the doorway. A momentary pause ere she
+entered, and then, unable to continue the control which she had so far
+maintained over herself, she turned and cast one hasty, curious glance
+below. The two new slaves of the centurion stood side by side in the
+street, gazing up at the palace walls, the dwarf with a grin of almost
+idiotic glee, the other with a grave air of quiet contemplation. But
+what was that sudden look of startled recognition that suddenly flashed
+across the features of the latter? Why did his face turn so ghastly pale
+in the moonlight, and his limbs seem to fail him, so that he grasped his
+companion's arm for support? AEnone shrank terrified into the obscurity
+of the doorway.
+
+But in an instant she recovered her self-possession. It must be that he
+had been faint or giddy, nothing more. It could not have been
+recognition that had startled him from his earnest contemplation, for he
+had not been looking toward her, but, with his body half turned away,
+had been gazing up at the highest story of the palace.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+And now, having avoided the immediate peril of recognition, AEnone turned
+into the palace. Even there, however, her disordered fancy pictured
+dangers still encompassing her. How, after all, could she feel sure that
+she had not been known? During that clear moonlight passage along the
+Appian Way, what revelations might not have been made by a chance look
+or gesture! At the very first she had almost stumbled upon the truth
+merely through the magic of one upward glance of the eye of the wearied
+slave; why, then, might she not have unconsciously revealed herself to
+him by even a wave of the hand or a turn of the instep, or by some other
+apparently trivial and unimportant motion? And if so, at what instant
+might he not forget his fallen condition, and disregard not only his
+safety but her reputation, by pressing into the palace and claiming the
+right of speech with her? Rasher deeds were not seldom done under the
+promptings of desperation. Trembling beneath the sway of such
+imaginings, each footfall that resounded in the hall seemed like the
+light and buoyant step of him who had trodden with her the sands of
+Ostia--each figure that passed by bore, for the instant, the outline of
+his form--even at the open window the well-known face seemed to peer in
+at every corner and watch her.
+
+This paroxysm of terror gradually passed away, but was succeeded by
+other fancies equally productive of inquietude. What if the captive,
+having recognized her, had whispered his story to the companions with
+whom he had walked! He would surely not do so if he still loved her; but
+what if his love had ceased, and he should be meanly desirous of
+increasing his own importance by telling how he, a slave, had been the
+chosen lover of the proudly allied lady before him? Nay, he would never
+act thus, for it would be a baseness foreign to his nature; and yet have
+not men of the most lofty sense of honor often fallen from their
+original nobility, and revelled in self-degradation? And it somehow
+seemed as though, at the last, the dwarf had looked up at her with a
+strangely knowing leer. And was it merely her imagination that made her
+think there was a certain sly approach to undue familiarity in the
+usually deferential deportment of the armor bearer?
+
+With the next morning, however, came more composed reflections. Though
+the forebodings of the evening had naturally tinged her dreams with
+similar vague imaginings of coming trouble, yet, upon the whole, her
+sleep had brought rest, and the bright sunlight streaming in at the
+window drove away the phantoms which, during the previous gloom, had so
+confusedly disported themselves in her bewildered brain. She could now
+indulge in a more cheering view of her situation; and she felt that
+there was nothing in what had transpired of sufficient importance, when
+coolly weighed and passed upon, to make her anxious or afraid.
+
+In a sick and travel-worn slave she had recognized one to whom, in her
+younger days, she had plighted her faith, and who had, in turn, given
+his faith to her. He was now a captive, and she had become one of the
+nobles of the empire. But his evil lot had not been of her procuring,
+being merely one of those ill fortunes which are cast broadly over the
+earth, and whose descent upon any one person more than upon another can
+be attributed to destiny alone. Nor, in accepting her high position, had
+she been guilty of breach of faith, for she had long awaited the return
+of her lover, and he had not come. And through all those years, as she
+had grown into more mature womanhood, she had vaguely felt that those
+stolen interviews had been but the unreasoning suggestions of girlish
+romance, too carelessly indifferent to the exigencies of poverty and
+diverse nationality; and that, if he had ever returned to claim her,
+mutual explanation and forgetfulness could have been their only proper
+course. There was, therefore, nothing for which she could reproach
+herself, or for which he could justly blame her, were he to recognize
+her as the wife of another man.
+
+But there was little chance, indeed, that such a recognition could take
+place. Certainly, now that, apart from her troubled and excited fears of
+the previous day, she more deliberately weighed the chances, she felt
+assured that in her rapid passage through the evening gloom, nothing
+could have betrayed her. And it was not probable that even in open
+daylight and in face-to-face encounter with him he would be likely to
+know her. She had recognized him almost at a glance, for not only was
+his dress composed of the same poor and scant material which had served
+him years before, but even in form and feature he seemed unchanged, his
+slight frame having gained no expansion as his manhood had progressed,
+while his face retained in every line the same soft and almost girlish
+expression. But with herself all things had altered. It was not merely
+that the poorly clad maiden who, with naked feet, well-tanned hands, and
+tangled and loosely hanging curls, had been wont to wander carelessly by
+the shore of a distant bay, had become a richly adorned matron of the
+imperial centre. Beyond all that, there was a greater change, which,
+though in its gradual progress almost inappreciable to one who had
+watched her day by day, could not but be remarked after a lapse of many
+years. The darker hair, the softer complexion, the suave smile into
+which the merry laugh of girlhood had little by little subsided, the
+more composed mien, replete with matronly dignity, the refinement of air
+and attitude insensibly resulting from long continued instinctive
+imitation, the superior development of figure--all these, as they were
+improvements in her former self, were also just so many effective
+disguises upon which she could safely rely, unless she were to provoke
+inordinate scrutiny by some unguarded action or expression. But all this
+she would earnestly guard against. She would even put no trust in the
+natural immunity of which her reason assured her, but would make
+everything doubly safe by totally refraining from any encounter with one
+whose recognition of her would be so painful.
+
+This she could do, and yet not fail in any friendly duty which the
+remembrance of their former love might enjoin upon her. Unseen in her
+retirement, she could watch over and protect him, now that in his sorrow
+and degradation he so greatly needed a friend. She could ameliorate his
+lot by numberless kindnesses, which he would enjoy none the less for
+being unable to detect their source. She would cunningly influence her
+father to treat him with tenderness and consideration. And when the
+proper time arrived, and she could take her measures without suspicion,
+she would herself purchase his freedom, and send him back rejoicing to
+his native land. And when all this was done, and he should again have
+reached his home, perhaps she might then write to him one line to tell
+him who it was that had befriended him, and that she had done so in
+memory of olden times, and that now, when she was so far removed from
+him, he should give her one kind thought, utter a prayer to the gods in
+her behalf, and then forget her forever.
+
+So much for her security and her friendly duty. As for the feelings of
+her heart, she was at rest. Strong in self-confidence, she had no fear
+that her mind could be influenced to stray from its proper path. It is
+true that during the previous evening, in the first tumult of troubled
+thought, she had felt a vague presentiment that a day of temptation
+might be before her, not as the result of any deliberate choice upon her
+part, but rather as a cruel destiny to be forced upon her. But now the
+current of her mind moved more clearly and unobstructedly; and she felt
+that however chance might control the worldly prosperity of each one,
+the will and strength to shape his own destiny, for good or evil, are
+still left to him unimpaired. Away, then, with all thoughts of the past.
+In her heart there could be but one affection, and to her life there
+could be but the one course of duty, and in that she would steadfastly
+walk.
+
+Strengthened, therefore, with the well-assured belief that the impulsive
+affection of her youth had become gradually tempered by lapse of years
+into a chaste and sisterly friendship, and that the pleasant memories
+which clustered about her heart and made her look back half regretfully
+upon those former days would be cherished only as the mere innocent
+relics of a girlish romance, she felt no fear that her faith could be
+led to depart from its lawful allegiance. But aside from all this, there
+lurked within her breast an uneasy sense of being the holder of a great
+secret which, in the end, would surely crush her, unless she could share
+its burden with another. In this desire for confidence, at least, there
+could be no harm; and her mind rapidly ran over the array of her few
+friends. For the first time in her life, perhaps, her isolation from
+close and unfettered companionship with others was forced upon her
+attention, and her soul grew faint as she thought upon her dependence
+upon herself alone for comfort or advice. To whom, indeed, could she
+venture to pour out her heart? Not to her father, who, with unreasoning
+ignorance and little charity, would coarsely form base conclusions about
+her, and would most likely endeavor to solve the problem by cruelty to
+the unfortunate slave who had so unwittingly originated it. Not to any
+of those matrons of whom her rank made her the associate; and who, after
+gaining her confidence, would either betray it to others, or else,
+wrongly misconstruing her, and fancying her to be influenced by scruples
+which they might not have felt, would scarcely fail to ridicule and cast
+disdain upon all the most tender emotions of her heart. And above all
+others, not to her husband, to whom, if she dared, she would have wished
+to reveal everything, but who had, she feared, at the bottom of his
+soul, a jealous and suspicious nature, which would be sure to take
+alarm, and cause him to look upon her story, not as a generous
+confidence bestowed in the hope of comfort and assistance, but rather
+as a cunningly devised cover for some unconfessed scheme of wrong
+against him.
+
+Burdened by these reflections, AEnone slowly passed from her room into
+the antechamber. Lifting her eyes, she there saw her husband standing at
+the window, and, at the distance of a pace or two from him, a female
+figure. It was that of a girl of about eighteen years, small, light, and
+graceful. Her costume, though not in form such as belonged to the
+freeborn women of Rome, was yet far superior in richness of material to
+that usually worn by persons of low degree, and was fashioned with a
+taste which could not fail to assist the display of her graceful
+perfection of form, indicated in part by the rounded lines of the
+uncovered neck and arms. As AEnone entered the room, Sergius advanced,
+and, taking her by the hand, said:
+
+'Yonder is a new slave for you--the present about which I yesterday
+spoke. I trust it will prove that during my absence I was not unmindful
+of you. It was at Samos that I obtained her. There, you may remember, we
+tarried, after taking the town and burning part of the fleet.'
+
+Samos! Where had AEnone heard that place mentioned? Searching into the
+recesses of her memory, it at last flashed upon her. Was it not from
+Samos that he--Cleotos--had come? And was it fate that forced the
+recollection of him ever upon her? She turned pale, but by a violent
+effort succeeded in maintaining her self-possession and looking up with
+a smile of apparent interest upon her husband as he spoke.
+
+'She had nearly fallen the prey of one of the common soldiers,' he
+continued; 'but I, with a few pieces of gold, rescued her from him,
+picturing to myself the gratification you would feel at being so fitly
+attended. And that you might the better appreciate the gift, I have
+retained her till to-day before showing her to you, in order that you
+might first see her recovered from the toil of travel and in all her
+recovered beauty. A rare beauty, indeed, but of a kind so different from
+thine that your own will be heightened by the contrast rather than
+diminished. How many sestertia I have been offered for her, how many
+high officers of my forces have desired to obtain her for service upon
+their own wives, I cannot now remember. But I have refused and resisted
+all, for I would that you should be known throughout all Rome by the
+beauty of those in waiting about you, even as you are now known by your
+own beauty. Pray, accept of her, therefore, as your attendant and
+companion, for it would sorely disappoint me were you to reject such a
+pleasing gift.'
+
+'Let it be as my lord says,' responded AEnone. 'And if I fail in due
+utterance of my thanks, impute it not to want of appreciation of the
+gift, but rather to inability of proper expression.'
+
+It was with real gratitude that AEnone spoke; for, at the instant, a
+thought of cheering import flashed upon her, swelling her heart with
+joy, and causing her to welcome the captive girl as a gift from the
+gods. Here, perhaps, as though in direct answer to her prayer for
+sympathy, might be the one for whom her heart had been longing; coming
+to her, not laden with any of that haughty pride and ill-befitting
+knowledge with which the Roman world about her reeked, but rather as she
+herself had once come--with all her unstained provincial innocence of
+thought yet nestling in her shrinking soul--one, like herself, an exile
+from a lowly state, and with a heart filled with those simple memories
+which must not be too carelessly exposed--so seldom do they gather from
+without anything but cruel ridicule or cold lack of comprehension--one
+whom she could educate into an easy intimacy with her own impulses and
+yearnings, and thus, forgetting all social differences, draw closer and
+nearer to her as a friend and confidant.
+
+As she thus reflected, she felt the soft pressure of lips upon her left
+hand, which hung idly at her side, and, looking down, she saw that the
+captive girl had knelt before her, and, while lightly grasping her
+fingers, was gazing up into her face with a pleading glance. AEnone's
+first impulse was to respond with eager warmth to that humble appeal for
+protection and friendship; and had it not been for the morbid fear she
+felt lest her husband, who stood looking on, might chide such
+familiarity, or at the least might cast ridicule upon the feeling which
+prompted it, she would have raised the captive girl and folded her in
+her arms. As it was, the impulse was too spontaneous and sudden to be
+entirely resisted, and she held forth her other hand to lift the
+kneeling figure, when a strange, intuitive perception of something which
+she could scarcely explain, caused her to withhold further action.
+
+Something, she knew not what, in the attitude and expression of the
+captive before her, which sent her warm blood flowing back with a
+chilled current--something which told her that her hopes of the moment
+had been smitten with decay as suddenly as they had been raised, and
+that, instead of a friend, she had perhaps found an enemy. The full dark
+eye yet gazed up at her with the same apparent moistened appeal for
+friendly sympathy; but to AEnone's alarmed instinct it now seemed as
+though behind that glance there was an inner depth of cold, calculating
+scrutiny. Still, almost unheeding the gentle gesture of the hand
+extended to raise her, the Greek knelt upon the floor, and, with an
+appearance of mingled timorousness and humility, laid her lips upon the
+gathered fingers; but now there appeared to be no natural warmth or glow
+in the pressure or real savor of lowliness in the attitude, but rather a
+forced and studied obsequiousness. For the instant AEnone paused, as
+though uncertain how to act. Then, fearing to betray her doubts, and
+hoping that her startled instinct might have deceived her, she bent
+forward once more and raised the captive to her feet.
+
+It had all been the work of an instant; passing so quickly that the
+pause between the impulse and its completion could hardly have been
+noticed. But in that instant a change had swept over the expressions of
+both; and as they now stood opposite and gazed more intently upon each
+other, the change still progressed. The face of the young Roman matron,
+but a moment before so glowing with sympathy and radiant with a
+new-discovered hope of future happiness, now seemed to shrink behind a
+veil of despairing dread--the fear chasing away the joy as the shadow
+flits along the wall and banishes the sunlight; while, though every
+feature of the Greek still seemed clothed with trembling humility, yet,
+from some latent depths of her nature, a gleam of something strangely
+wild and forbidding began to play upon the surface, and invest the
+moistened eye and quivering lip with an undefinable repulsive harshness.
+
+'Your name?' said AEnone, rousing herself with exertion, as though from a
+painful dream.
+
+'Leta, my lady,' was the reply, uttered in a tone of despairing sadness,
+and with eyes again cast upon the floor.
+
+'Leta,' repeated AEnone, touched in spite of her forebodings by that
+guise of an unhappiness which might, after all, be real. 'It is a
+fair-sounding name, and I shall call you always by it. Poor girl! you
+are an exile from your native land, and I--I cannot call myself a Roman.
+We must be friends--must we not?'
+
+She spoke rather in the tone of one hoping against evil auguries than as
+one indulging in any confident anticipations of the future. The Greek
+did not answer, but again slowly raised her eyes. At first, as before,
+with the same studied expression of pleading humility; but, as she
+glanced forward, and saw Sergius standing behind, and gazing at her with
+an admiration which he did not attempt to dissemble, a strange glow of
+triumph and ambitious hope seemed to light up her features. And when,
+after a hasty glance of almost responsive meaning toward Sergius, she
+again looked into the face of the other, it was no longer with an
+assumption of humble entreaty, but rather with an expression of wild,
+searching intensity. Before it the milder gaze of AEnone faltered, until
+it seemed as though the two had suffered a relative interchange of
+position: the patrician mistress standing with troubled features, and
+with vague apprehension and trembling in her heart, and as though
+timorously asking for the friendship which she had meant to bestow; and
+the captive, calmly, and with a look of ill-suppressed triumph, reading
+the other's soul as though to learn how she could most readily wield
+supremacy over her.
+
+
+
+
+'OUR DOMESTIC RELATIONS; OR, HOW TO TREAT THE REBEL STATES.'
+
+
+In the _Atlantic Monthly_ for October, 1863, is an article with the
+above caption, in which the author, we think, develops ideas and
+theories totally at variance with the spirit of our Government, and
+which, if acted upon, and followed to their legitimate results, tend to
+subvert that self-government which is the privilege and pride of the
+American citizen. The result of his reflection is, that the States
+which, more conveniently than accurately, are termed the rebel States,
+have practically become Territories, and as such are to be governed by
+Congress. Is this proposition true? Let us examine--not hastily, not
+rashly, not vindictively, or in a party spirit--but wisely,
+magnanimously, and lovingly, and see if there be not a truer conclusion
+and one more in accordance with the spirit of our republican
+Constitution.
+
+When the rebel _States_ (?) passed their respective ordinances of
+secession, what results flowed from the action? The political doctrine
+that the union of the States is not a mere confederation of separate
+States, but a consolidation, within the limits of the Constitution, of
+the different States, otherwise independent, into _one nation_, is now
+too well established to remain a subject of debate. We are not,
+therefore, members of a confederacy, but are a unit--one. It follows, as
+a matter of course, that no State can withdraw or hide itself from the
+control of the National Government. The ordinances of secession passed
+by the rebel States did not, therefore, affect the Federal authority.
+The broad and just ground taken by President Lincoln in his Inaugural
+Address was, that the rebel States were still _in_ the Union; and it is,
+we apprehend, the only tenable ground of right upon which we can carry
+on the war in which we are now engaged. The Constitution of the United
+States requires (art. ii. sec. 3) that the President shall 'take care
+that the laws be faithfully executed.' When the present head of the
+executive came into office, in March, 1861, he found several of the
+States, having already seceded on paper, seeking to perfect their
+treason by 'the armed hand.' Lighthouses had been destroyed, or their
+beacon fires--the sentinels of the sea--shrouded in darkness, custom
+houses were given into rebel hands, the revenue cutters were
+surrendered, and deed followed deed in this dark drama of treason, until
+it was consummated by firing upon the unarmed Star of the West, while
+she was performing her errand of mercy, to relieve the hunger and
+reenforce the exhausted strength of the heroic little garrison of Fort
+Sumter. The plain and immediate duty of the President was, therefore, to
+call out the strength of the nation to assist him in 'taking care that
+the laws be faithfully executed.' And this brings us to the proposition
+that _the Government is not engaged in a war of conquest with another
+nation, but in enforcing the laws in what is already a part of the
+Union_.
+
+The Constitution (art. ii. sec. 2) makes the President the
+'commander-in-chief of the army and navy of the United States, and of
+the militia of the several States when called into the actual service of
+the United States.' In the President, and in him alone, supremely, is
+vested the authority which is to conduct the course of war. Congress has
+the war-making power, but war once brought into being (if we may be
+allowed the expression), the manner in which it shall be conducted rests
+with the executive. It is, of course, to be conducted in accordance with
+the laws of nations and of civilized warfare. The first step necessary
+to enable the President to enforce the laws in the seceded States is to
+put down the military power by which their execution is resisted. That
+is now being done. By the 'necessity of war,' then, the executive is
+authorized to take such measures as may be necessary to put down the
+rebellion; and though no power is given him to appoint Governors over
+the States in ordinary times, it _is_ given him, indirectly, but as
+surely as if expressly granted, to be used in times of actual war, by
+the clause of the Constitution which we have just quoted, making him
+commander-in-chief of the national military force. Whenever the States,
+or any of them, cease to be debatable ground--that is, when the military
+force of the rebellion is put down, the military necessity ceases, and
+with it the authority of the President to appoint military governors.
+Nor is there danger of encroaching upon the liberties of the nation;
+for, as the power attaches to the President, not in his capacity as the
+civil head of the nation, but as the military commander-in-chief, it
+ceases the moment military opposition is overcome. The fear of the
+_Atlantic_ author would seem to be ill grounded, for we cannot believe
+that any military force could be raised by a despotic executive who
+might endeavor to place himself in absolute power, and we think there is
+little danger that the Government may 'crystallize into a military
+despotism.' Would supplies be granted by Congress; or, if granted, would
+not the people of a country which has sprung to arms only to defend a
+_free_ government, be strong enough to resist any single military
+despot? Let the history of the present rebellion, in which a population
+of only eight millions, and that in the least defensible States of the
+Union, has resisted for nearly three years the combined power of all the
+other States, with a population of more than twenty millions, answer the
+question. The _Atlantic_ writer admits the propriety of appointing
+military governors in the cases of Mexico and California before the
+latter was admitted as a State, but denies it in the cases of the rebel
+States, because they are States, and therefore (as he says) within the
+civil jurisdiction. But at the period to which we refer, Congress had
+jurisdiction over both California and Mexico by the express provision of
+the Constitution (art. iv. sec. 3), 'the Congress shall have power to
+dispose of and make all needful rules and regulations concerning the
+territory or other property belonging to the United States.' If, then,
+the power of the President be admitted in the two cases referred to, it
+is even stronger in the cases of the rebel States, where no such power
+is given to Congress. And further it would seem that the act of
+admission to the Union would operate rather to take the Territory from
+under the jurisdiction of Congress, and give the right of government
+into the hands of the PEOPLE of the new State, even if their State
+officers did seek to betray them into treason. Our author asserts that
+'there is no argument for military governors that is not equally strong
+for Congressional governments; but we suspect his mistake here, as, in
+fact, his whole theory comes from his neglect to note that this
+appointing power attaches to the President, not as the civil head of the
+nation, but as military commander-in-chief under the necessity of war.
+
+To sum up the argument on this point, it stands thus: Neither Congress
+nor the President has power under the civil head to institute
+governments of their own in the rebel States: that power must arise, if
+at all, under the head of military necessity, and must attach to the
+commander-in-chief, viz., the President, and ceases the moment that
+necessity ceases. In the authority quoted from Chancellor Kent by the
+author of the _Atlantic_, we find nothing to shake our argument; for,
+though the power be, as the learned Chancellor says, 'to be exercised
+subordinate to the legislative powers of Congress,' still it is an
+executive power, and must be exercised by--must emanate from--the
+President. The same learned authority, from whose lucid and fascinating
+pages we enjoyed the first glimmerings of the 'gladsome light of
+jurisprudence,' says (vol. i. p. 264): 'The command and application of
+the public force, to execute the law, maintain peace, and resist foreign
+invasion, are powers so exclusively of an executive nature, and require
+the exercise of powers so characteristical of this department, that they
+have always been _exclusively_ appropriated to it in every
+well-organized government upon earth.' Taking this provision of the
+Constitution, so interpreted by Chancellor Kent, as vesting the power
+_exclusively_ in the executive, it only remains to be considered how far
+it is a necessity of war.
+
+In all the rebel States there is a population, more or less dense, to be
+protected and governed; but what can a civil authority accomplish when
+the States are overrun by a military force which has so long defied the
+power of the army? Advancing as our armies conquer, and fleeing as they
+are overcome by the rebel hordes, it could accomplish nothing but its
+own ludicrous history and the fettering of the military power, which so
+eminently requires one secret and independent will. How little a
+military force so fettered by civil authorities could accomplish can
+hardly be fully realized but by those who, like the author, have
+summered and wintered upon the 'dark and bloody ground' of the
+rebellion. But, it will be asked, how are the rebel States to be
+governed when the military power of the rebellion is crushed, and the
+authority of the executive ceases with the necessity of war? No express
+power is given by the Constitution to Congress to govern any other
+territory than the District of Columbia, the dockyards, lighthouses, and
+lands ceded to the United States for similar purposes, and the territory
+not included in the several States, but belonging to the United States.
+Under these three heads is included all the territory over which
+Congress can claim jurisdiction by direct grant; and, by the
+Constitution (Amendments, art. x.), 'the powers not delegated to the
+United States, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the
+States respectively or to THE PEOPLE.' Unless, therefore, the rebel
+States have lapsed into Territories, Congress can have no authority over
+them, except the general powers which it may exercise over all the
+States of the Union. The question then arises, and it seems to be purely
+a legal one--have the rebel States lapsed into Territories?
+
+We have already seen that the doctrine maintained by our Government is,
+that the rebel States have not, by their ordinances of secession,
+separated themselves from the Union, but that they are still _in_ the
+Union. The ordinances of secession are, like any other unconstitutional
+law, even supposing them to have been the will of the people (of which
+we will speak hereafter), to be set aside by a competent tribunal, if
+brought to the test at all. Their paper treason, then (to commit a
+solecism), amounting only to so much waste of paper and ink, did the
+overt act of firing upon the flag of the United States operate more
+effectually to destroy the State identity? If they are incapable of
+separating themselves from the nation, and if, as is clearly the case,
+there is no power vested in the General Government to expel them from
+the Union, from what source does the power or act arise which destroys
+their identity? The rebel States are either _in_ the Union or _out_ of
+it. We cannot claim that they are in the Union for the purpose of
+enforcing submission, and then, when that object is accomplished, turn
+round and say they are out of it, and must be governed as Territories.
+
+But it is a fixed fact, and history will so record it, that the voice of
+the _people_ in the rebel States never concurred in the ordinances of
+secession. In the few cases where they were submitted to the popular
+vote, force was used to awe that vote into acquiescence; while in most
+cases they never were submitted to the _form_ of such a vote; and why?
+Because the leaders in treason dared not trust the voice of the people:
+they knew too well that it would thunder a rebuke in their ears. They
+were merely the act of the _individuals_ who were chosen as members of
+the several Legislatures, and who, in betrayal of their trust, sought to
+commit the States which they misrepresented to treason. In any one of
+the States which we have solecistically termed rebel States, we venture
+to assert that, if fairly and fully taken, the vote of the people at any
+time during the last five years, and now, would be, by a large majority,
+in favor of the Union. Wherever our armies have obtained a permanent
+footing, the people have, almost unanimously, given their expression of
+attachment to the old flag. Shall, then, the treason of those
+individuals who, for the time being, held the places of power in the
+rebel States, be construed to the prejudice of a whole people, who had
+no part nor lot in the crime, in face of the often declared law that a
+State cannot commit treason? If we turn to the fact that many, if not
+most of the citizens of the rebel States, have done treasonable acts
+under compulsion of those who were the leaders in the rebellion, we are
+met, at the very threshold, by no less an authority than Sir William
+Blackstone, who says (Bl. Commentaries, book iv. p. 21): 'Another
+species of compulsion or necessity is what our law calls _duress per
+minias_, or threats and menaces which induce fear of death or other
+bodily harm, and which take away, for that reason, the guilt of many
+crimes and misdemeanors, at least before the human tribunal. _Therefore,
+in time of war or rebellion, a man may be justified in doing many
+treasonable acts by compulsion of the enemy or REBELS, which would admit
+of no excuse in the time of peace._' The fact that such violent
+compulsion was and still is used to overawe the Union sentiment of the
+South is patent. It has been and still is the cry, coming up on every
+breeze from that bloodstained land, that the leaders of the rebellion
+seek to crush, by whatever means, those who are
+
+'Faithful among the faithless found.'
+
+But, supposing for the moment that the majority of the citizens of the
+rebel States are, of their own free will, participators in the
+rebellion; where is the grant of power to Congress to establish a
+government in any of the rebel States? No clause of the Constitution
+gives it; and by the express terms of that instrument, 'all powers not
+granted by it to the United States, nor prohibited to the States, are
+reserved to the States respectively or to THE PEOPLE.' But, while no
+such power is granted by the Constitution to the Federal Government, it
+is, we think, strictly forbidden by that clause of the instrument which
+declares that 'the United States shall guarantee to every State in this
+Union a republican form of government.' Would this injunction be
+complied with if Congress were to establish, directly, a government of
+its own over the rebel States? Would it not rather be a transgression of
+the provision? The essential nature of a republican government is that
+it is elective; but a Congressional government would be directly the
+reverse; for it takes the power from the hands of the people and places
+it in the hands of the national council. Mark the form of the
+expression, too, that the republican form of government is to be
+guaranteed, not merely by Congress or the executive, but by the _United
+States_; as if to pledge the whole power of the nation, of whatever
+kind, to protect this priceless blessing, through all coming time, to
+the use and benediction of all ages. Notice, too, to whom the guarantee
+runs--not to the territory now composing the State, but to the State its
+very self--_ei ipsi_; as if the Constitution could not contemplate such
+a thing as a State being struck out of existence, under whatever phrase,
+whether of 'State forfeiture,' 'State suicide,' or 'State abdication,'
+even if treason were attempted by those in power. The Constitution still
+terms it _a State_. Is not the present precisely the event, or rather
+one of the events, which it contemplates and provides for? The doctrine
+of 'State Rights,' whether as contemplated and maintained by Calhoun in
+the days of Nullification, or as declared by Jefferson Davis and his
+compeers in treason, we abhor utterly, whenever and wherever it may lift
+its serpent head, and whether supported by Southern men with Southern
+principles, or by Northern men with no principles. But a true and
+indisputable doctrine of State Rights there is, which ought to be as
+jealously maintained and guarded as the doctrine of National
+Sovereignty. The _Atlantic_ author asserts that, because the State
+offices in the rebel States have been vacated, therefore Congress has
+the authority to govern them, and intimates that all powers not reserved
+to the respective States belong to Congress, _because there is no other
+to wield them_. This is not true. Every power possessed of the Federal
+Government must be actually granted. It must attach to that Government,
+not because it belongs to no other, but because it is granted by the
+Constitution.
+
+Our author quotes Mr. Phillimore as saying 'a state, like an individual,
+may die, by its submission and the donation of itself to another
+country.' Very true; but the word _state_ must, in that sense, be
+equivalent to _nation_; and our author admits that a State cannot
+perform the first act necessary to be done in so giving itself away,
+viz., withdrawing itself from the Union. If, therefore, it cannot
+withdraw itself from the authority of the Federal Government, very
+clearly it cannot donate itself to the self-styled Confederate
+Government. If a thief sell or give his ill-gotten possession to
+another, it in no way affects the right of the owner. He cannot give
+away that which he does not own; and so of a State. Another error into
+which the _Atlantic_ author has fallen, is that, in assigning the three
+sources of Congressional power, 'ample and hospitable,' he enumerates as
+one of them 'the necessity of the case;' but, as we have already seen,
+Congress possesses no powers but those expressly granted by the
+Constitution. If Congress may assert its authority in this instance,
+from the necessity of the case, and be itself the judge of that
+necessity, when no authority is given by the instrument, which expressly
+declares that all powers not granted by it are reserved, where are we to
+find a limit, and why may not that body assert itself in any number of
+instances, until, at length, the rights of the States are wholly
+absorbed by the overmastering power of the Federal Government? There is
+but _one_ rightful source of authority to Congress, and that is the
+Constitution, which itself so declares, and which is the supreme law of
+the land.
+
+But the true course to be pursued is, we think, to allow the rebel
+States (as indeed we cannot help doing) to be governed by the military
+power until such time as a civil government can be maintained, and then
+for the whole Government of the United States, legislative, judicial,
+and executive, to stand by, as the constitutionally appointed guardian,
+_and permit_ THE PEOPLE _to elect their own State officers_. Whether the
+conventions of the people are called by law of Congress or by
+proclamation of the President, would seem to be immaterial, though the
+latter seems the least cumbersome method. Thus the rebel States would
+pass from rebel forms to constitutional ones, in a legal and formal
+manner. Sooner or later this must be done, even if, for a time,
+provisional governments are instituted; for no Congressional government
+can be an elective government, and hence not a constitutional one,
+because the elective principle is necessary to a republican form of
+government. But if, under the clause of the Constitution which enjoins
+upon the United States to guarantee a republican form of government to
+each State, conventions of the people be called to elect their own
+officers, they are at once put in possession of their constitutional
+rights. And how can a State be _re_admitted to a Union which it has
+never left?
+
+The writer has no pet theory to maintain, but is, like the writer in the
+_Atlantic_, 'in search of truth;' and the views here expressed are the
+result, not merely of closet reflection, but of observation and
+experience in the seceded States, while 'marching under the flag and
+keeping step to the music of the Union.' If only, through this baptism
+of blood, the nation, freed at last from the blighting curse of slavery,
+and purified into a better life, shall lift her radiant forehead from
+the dust, and, crowned with the diadem of freedom, go on her glorious
+way rejoicing, the writer will count his past sufferings and shattered
+health only as the small dust in the balance compared with the priceless
+blessings of peace, freedom, and national unity, which they may have
+contributed, however slightly, to purchase. Only to have contributed,
+however little, something for the peace--something for the
+glory--something for the permanence, beautiful and bright--of those
+institutions which are for America the pride of the past and the hope of
+the future, will be a joy through life and a consolation in death.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUND BUILDER.
+
+INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+All over Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and other Western States--but
+chiefly over these--are the monumental remains of an ancient race, long
+anterior to the present race of Indians, concerning whom we have no
+other record than that which is afforded by their mounds, earthworks,
+fortifications, temples, and dwelling places. Even these cannot at first
+be distinguished and identified the one from the other; and it takes a
+person skilled in such lore to determine the character and uses of the
+various mounds and groups of mounds, which he meets with at all points,
+and in all directions, as he traverses the wilderness.
+
+I have lived a long time in the woods and prairies, following the
+occupation of a hunter, but with ulterior antiquarian and
+natural-history objects and purposes. From the time when I first heard
+of the mounds, which was in the year 1836, when I entertained, in my
+chambers in New York, an old frontiersman from Chicago--a fine, brave
+fellow, whose whole life was a romance of the highest and noblest
+kind--I resolved that as soon as fortune should favor me with leisure
+and opportunity, I would make a first-hand investigation of these
+curious antiquities, and try if I could render an intelligent exposition
+of their meaning. Twenty years passed away, and I was no nearer to the
+accomplishment of my purpose than I was in that notable year 1836, when
+the apocalypse of the West and its mystic mound seals were first
+revealed to me. At last, about four years ago, all things being
+favorable, I struck my tents in the big city--the wonderful Arabian
+Nights city of New York!-and, taking a sorrowful leave of my friends and
+literary associates, I set off for the region round about the Black
+River in Wisconsin. Here, among the bluffs and forests, within hailing
+distance of a prairie of some hundred thousand acres, I bought a
+well-cultivated farm of two hundred and eighty acres, bounded on the
+south by a deep, romantic ravine, at the bottom of which ran a
+delightful stream of water, full of trout, always cool and delicious to
+drink, and never known to be dry even in the fiercest summer droughts. A
+large log cabin, with a chimney opening in the kitchen, capable of
+conveying the smoke and flames of half a cord of wood burning at once on
+the hearthstones, and having other commodious conveniences, was my
+headquarters, and I intended it to be my permanent home. But thereby
+hangs a tale--which, though interesting enough, and full of romantic and
+startling episodes, I will not here and now relate, as being somewhat
+extraneous to the subject matter before us.
+
+I had no sooner made all the dispositions necessary to the good
+husbanding of the farm, than I hired a half breed, well known in those
+parts, and subsequently a Winnebago Indian, to whose wigwam the half
+breed introduced me at my request. And with these two, the one a
+veritable savage, and the other very nearly related to him, I set off
+with a wagon, a yoke of oxen, a large tent, and abundance of provisions,
+on a journey of mound discoveries.
+
+I have only space here to say that we traversed the whole of the north
+and west of the State of Wisconsin, and through the chief parts of
+Minnesota and Iowa; and that subsequently, about, eighteen months
+afterward, we visited the region of the Four Lakes, of which Madison is
+the centre, where there are hundreds of mounds, arranged in nearly every
+form and of nearly every animal device, which we had found in our
+previous travels.
+
+I made drawings of all the remarkable groups which I met with; and,
+without going into particulars, I may give you some idea of their
+likelihood in the following summary: Mounds arranged in circles of three
+circles, with a large earthwork in the inner one; the outer circle
+containing sixty mounds, the second thirty, the first fifteen. I
+examined the earthwork, and found in it, about four feet below the
+surface, remains of charcoal and charred bones, burnt earth, and
+considerable quantities of mica. It had evidently been an altar or
+sacrificial mound--and I afterward, upon examination, found many
+such--but they were always enclosed by other mounds; and these (the
+outer mounds) contained nothing but earth, although there was this
+remarkable peculiarity about them, that the earth of which they were
+composed was altogether of a different nature from the surrounding
+earth, and must have been brought to that spot, as the old Druids
+brought the enormous blocks of stone which composed their temples and
+altars at Stonehenge, from an unknown distance.
+
+Other mounds were arranged in squares, triangles, and parallelograms.
+Others, in a series of successive squares, about three feet apart,
+having an opening to the east and west, and terminating in a square of
+about fourteen feet in the centre, where a truncated mound is sure to be
+erected.
+
+Others, formed a good deal like a Minie rifle ball, but with a more
+pointed apex, running on both sides of the earth effigy of a monstrous
+bear for upward of forty rods.
+
+Others, shaped like an eagle with outstretched wings, having walls of
+earthwork two feet high, of oblong shape, and enclosed on all sides
+except at the east and west, where there are entrances of about four
+feet in width.
+
+Others, composed of hundreds of tons of earth, shaped like a tortoise,
+with truncated mounds all around it.
+
+Others, fashioned like men, and Titans at that, some lying prone upon
+the prairie, others in the act of walking. The limbs clearly defined,
+the body vast and well moulded, like a huge colossus. One near Baraboo,
+Sauk County, Wisconsin, discovered by Mr. William H. Canfield, and
+reported to the Philosophical Society by Mr. Lapham, of Milwaukee, was
+visited also by us. It is two hundred and fourteen feet in length; the
+head thirty feet long, the body one hundred feet, and the legs
+eighty-four. The head lies toward the south, and the motion (for he is
+represented in the act of walking) is westward. All the lines of this
+most singular effigy are curved gracefully, much care having very
+clearly been bestowed upon its construction. The head is ornamented with
+two projections or horns, giving a comical expression to the whole
+figure.
+
+Near the old military road, about seven miles east of the Blue Mounds,
+in Dare County, Wisconsin, we found another man effigy. It lies in an
+east and west direction, the head toward the west, and the arms and legs
+extended. It is one hundred and twenty-five feet long, one hundred and
+forty feet from the extremity of one arm to that of the other. The body
+is thirty feet in breadth, and is most carefully moulded and rounded;
+the head twenty-five feet; the elevation above the surface of the
+prairie nearly six feet.
+
+On the north side of the Wisconsin River, about four miles west of the
+village of Muscoda, we heard of and found another human effigy. Its
+peculiarity was that it had two heads, and they reclined with a certain
+grace over the shoulders. The arms were not in proportion, nor fully
+represented. Length of body fifty feet, legs forty feet, arms one
+hundred and thirty feet; lying north and south, the head southward.
+
+Others, a kind of hybrids, half man half beast or bird.
+
+Others, representing birds with outstretched wings, like the forked-tail
+hawk or swallow.
+
+Others, eagles without heads.
+
+Others, coiled snakes, or outstretched snakes.
+
+Others, elk or deer.
+
+Clusters of mounds star shaped, seven in number, with the sun-shaped
+mound in the centre.
+
+Others, representing mathematical symbols.
+
+On the banks of the Black River, near the Ox Bow, are the remains of an
+elevated road, about three feet high and seven feet wide, extending for
+miles, intersected near the river by the great Indian war path. The
+settlers call it the Railroad, and it has all the appearance of a work
+of this nature, and is strongly and carefully built--a fine remain of
+the old mound builders' time.
+
+Long lines of mounds, extending for scores and probably hundreds of
+miles, nearly all of the same shape, varying in their distance from each
+other from one to four miles.
+
+Circular mounds of a base of two hundred feet, and a height of twenty
+feet.
+
+Others, two hundred yards long, from ten to twenty feet wide, and from
+two to three feet high--these last, also, having an open space through
+them, as if intended for an entrance gate.
+
+Others, in the form of rabbits, badgers, bears, and birds; others, of
+unknown monstrous animals.
+
+We examined in all thirty-nine mounds; and in one, at the very base, on
+the floor of the natural earth upon which the mound was built (the soil
+of the mound being, as I said, always of a different character to the
+surrounding soil) we discovered and carried away with us the perfect
+skeleton of a man, with a few arrow heads made of flint, and a tobacco
+pipe, made also of stone, with a very small and narrow bowl, having a
+device on it like some of the hieroglyphic monsters of Egypt or old
+India.
+
+In twelve we found skeletons, male and female, of the present race of
+Indians, with their bows and arrows, or, as was the case in four
+instances, their rifles and knives and tobacco pipes; some of these last
+elaborately carved in red stone. In Iowa we dug into a large mound, and
+discovered fragments of an ancient pottery, with the colors burned into
+the material, and various bones and skulls, arrow heads, and a flint
+knife, and saw.
+
+We saw the painted rocks, also, on the Mississippi shores, near Prairie
+du Chien--said to be of an immemorial age--and the questions, Who was
+this old mound builder--whence did he come--when did he vanish from this
+continent? have haunted me ever since. That he was the primitive man of
+this planet, I think there is good reason to believe. Go where we will,
+to what portion soever of the earth, we shall find these mound evidences
+of his existence. In Asia, Europe, Africa, and all along the backbone of
+the American continent, he has established his record. Yet no one knows
+anything about him: all tradition even of him and of his works is lost.
+When Watkinson started from the middle of Asia to visit the newly
+acquired country of Russia--the beautiful, fruitful, invaluable country
+of the Amoor--he was confronted at the very outset by a cluster of seven
+of these very mounds, and his book, from that time forth, extending over
+thousands of miles, is full of descriptions of these unknown earthworks.
+I have no doubt they mark the progressive geographical movements of a
+race of men who came from Asia. From Behring's Strait to the Gulf they
+can easily be traced.
+
+But I have said enough, and will stop here.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOUND BUILDER.
+
+Who art thou? old Mound Builder!
+    Where dost thou come from?
+    Womb of what country,
+    Womb of what woman
+      Gave birth to thee?
+      Who was thy sire?
+      Who thy sire's sire?
+    And who were his forbears?
+    Cam'st thou from Asia?
+Where the race swarms like fireflies,
+    Where many races mark.
+As with colored belts, its tropics!
+    What pigment stained thy skin?
+  Was it a red, or wert thou
+    Olive-dyed, or brassy?
+  Handsome thou couldst hardly have been,
+    With those high cheek-bones,
+  That mighty jaw, and its grim chops,
+That long skull, so broad at the back parts,
+    That low, retreating forehead!
+      Doubtless thine eyes were dark,
+  Like fire-moons set in their sockets;
+      Doubtless thine hair was black,
+  Coarse, matted, long, and electric;
+  Thy skeleton that of a giant!
+    Well fleshed, well lashed with muscles,
+    As with an armor of iron;
+And doubtless thou wert a brave fellow,
+    On the old earth, in thy time.
+
+    I think I know thee, old Mole!
+Earth delver, mound builder, mine worker!
+  I think I have met thee before,
+  In times long since, and forgotten;
+Many thousands of years, it may be,
+Or ever old Noah, the bargeman,
+Or he, the mighty Deucalion,
+  Wroth with the world as he found it,
+  Uprose in a passion of storm
+  And smote with his fist the sluices,
+    The water sluices of Cloudland--
+  Locked in the infinite azure--
+    Drowning the plains and mountains,
+    The shaggy beasts and hybrids,
+ The nameless birds--and the reptiles,
+Monstrous in bulk and feature,
+Which alone were thy grim contemporaries.
+ Here, in the State of Wisconsin,
+ In newly discovered America,
+ I, curious to know what secrets
+ Were hid in the mounds of thy building,
+   Have gone down into their chambers,
+   Into their innermost grave-crypts,
+   Unurning dry bones and skulls,
+   Fragments of thy mortality!
+   Oftentimes near to the surface
+   Of these thy conical earth-runes,
+   --For who shall tell their secret?--
+   Meeting with strange interlopers,
+   Bodies of red Winnebagoes,
+   Each with its bow and its arrows,
+   Each with its knife and its war gear,
+   Its porphyry-carved tobacco pipe,
+   Modern, I know by the fashioning.
+       Often, I asked of them,
+   As they lay there so silently,
+     So stiff and stark in their bones,
+  What right they had in these old places,
+Sacred to dead men of a race they knew not?
+        And oh! the white laughters,
+    The wicked malice of the white laughters
+        Which they laughed at me,
+    With their ghastly teeth, in answer!
+   Was never mockery half so dismal!
+   As if it were none of my business.
+Nor was it; save that I liked grimly to plague them,
+   To taunt them with their barbarity,
+That they could not so much as dig their own graves,
+   But must needs go break those of the dead race,
+Their far superiors, and masters in craft and lore!
+   And bury themselves there, just out of sight,
+    Where the vulture's beak could peck them,
+     Were he so obscenely minded,
+ And the wolf could scrape them up with his foot.
+
+     Curious for consideration
+    All this with its dumb recordings!
+     Very suggestive also,
+    The meeting of him, the first-born,
+     Who lived before the rainbow
+    Burst from the womb of the suncloud,
+  In the Bible days of the Deluge--
+     The meeting very suggestive
+  Of him, with the red Winnebago,
+   Such immemorial ages,
+     Cartooned with mighty empires,
+     Lying outstretched between them.
+   He, the forerunner of cities
+
+   --His mounds their type and rudiment--
+  And he, the fag-end of creation,
+  Meaningless sculpture of journeymen,
+   Doomed to the curse of extinction.
+     Curious, also, that I,
+  An islander from far-off Britain
+         Should meet them,
+     Or, the rude scrolls of them.
+    Both together in these wilds,
+  Round about the region of the Black River,
+     Cheek by jowl in a grave.
+
+   Who was the builder of the grave?
+    A primitive man, no doubt,
+    Of the stone era, it may be,
+   For of stone are his implements.
+  And not of metal-work, nor the device of fire.
+    He may have burrowed for lead
+     And dug out copper ore,
+  Dark-green as with emerald rust, from the mines
+  Long since forsaken, and but newly found
+  By the delvers at Mineral Point.
+  He, or his subsequents, issue of him,
+    I know not; and, soothe to say,
+        Shall never know.
+
+     Neither wilt thou ever know
+   Anything of me, old Mound Builder!
+ Of the race of Americans, nothing,
+     Who now, and ever henceforth,
+   Own, and shall own, this continent!
+     Heirs of the vast wealth of time
+ Since thou from the same land departed;
+ New thinkers, new builders, creators
+   Of life, and the scaffolds of life,
+   For far-off grand generations!
+      This skull which I handle!--
+ How long has the soul left it tenantless?
+ And what did the soul do in its house,
+      When this roof covered it?
+ Many things, many wonderful things!
+   It wrote its primeval history
+ Is earthworks and fortifications,
+   In animal forms and pictures,
+   In symbols of unknown meaning.
+
+  I know from the uncouth hieroglyphs,
+     And the more finished records,
+   That this soul had a religion,
+     Temples, and priests, and altars:
+   I think the life-giver, the sun,
+     Was the god unto whom he sacrificed.
+      I think that the moon and stars
+     Were the lesser gods of his worship;
+     And that the old serpent of Eden
+     Came in for a share of devotion.
+
+     I find many forms of this reptile,
+       Scattered along the prairies,
+      Coiled on the banks of the rivers,
+     In Iowa, and far Minnesota,
+      And here and there, in Wisconsin.
+       Now he is circular,
+     Gnawing his tail, like the Greek symbol,
+      Suggesting infinite meanings
+      Unto the mind of a modern
+     Crammed with the olden mythologies.
+       Now, uncoiled in the sunlight,
+     He stretches himself out at full length
+     In all his undulate longitude.
+    His body is a constellation of mounds,
+           Artfully imitative,
+    From the fatal tail to the more fatal head.
+       Overgrown they are with grass,
+      Short, green grass, thick and velvety,
+          Like well cared-for lawns,
+      With strange, wild flowers glittering,
+       Made up of alien mould
+      Brought hither from distant regions.
+
+    Curiously I have considered them,
+      Many a time in the summer,
+    Lying beside them under the flaming sky,
+      Smoking an old tobacco pipe,
+       Made by one of these moundsmen.
+       Who in his time had smoked it,
+       Perchance over the council fire,
+ Or in the dark woods where he had gone a-hunting;
+   In war time--in peaceful evenings,
+      With his squaw by his side,
+   And his brood of dusky papposins
+    Playing about in the twilight
+     Under the awful star-shadows.
+
+ It seemed that I was very close to him, at such times;
+       And that his thick-ribbed lips,
+   --Gone to dust for unknown centuries--
+       Had met mine inscrutably,
+   By a magic hid in the pipestem,
+   Making me his familiar and hail fellow.
+       Almost I felt his breath,
+      And the muffled sound of his heart-beats;
+          Almost I grasped his hand,
+        And shook the antediluvian,
+      With a shake of grimmest fellowship
+      Trying to cozen him of his grim secret.
+        But sudden the gusty wind came,
+        Laughing away the illusion,
+      And I was alone in the desert.
+
+          If he could only wake up now,
+      And confront me--that ancient salvage!
+      Resurgated, with his faculties
+      All quick about him, and his memories,
+          What an unheard-of powwow
+      Could I report to you, O friends of mine!
+      Who look for some revelation,
+      Some hint of the strange apocalypse,
+        Which the wit of this man, living
+      So near to the prime of the morning,
+      So near to the gates of the azure,
+        The awful gates of the Unseen--
+        Whence all that is seen proceeded--
+      Hath wrought in this new-found country!
+      I wonder if he would remember
+    Anything about the Land of the Immortals.
+          Something he would surely find
+        In the deeps of his consciousness
+        To wake up a dim reminiscence.
+          Dreamy shadows might haunt him,
+  Shadows of beautiful faces, and of terrible;
+    Large, lustrous eyes, full of celestial meanings,
+      Looking up at him, beseeching him,
+        From unfathomable abysses,
+        With glances which were a language.
+      The finalest secrets and mysteries,
+      Behind every sight, and sound, and color,
+      Behind all motions, and harmonies,
+          Which floated round about him,
+          Archetypes of the phenomenal!
+
+Or, it might be, that coming suddenly in his mind
+      Upon some dark veil, as of Isis,
+    He lifts it with a key-thought,
+  Or the sudden memory of an arcane sign,
+      And beholds the gardens of Living Light,
+      The starry platform, palaces, and thrones--
+      The vast colossi, the intelligences
+    Moving to and fro over the flaming causeways
+        Of the kingdoms beyond the gates--
+              The infinite arches
+            And the stately pillars,
+                Upbuilt with sapphire suns
+    And illuminated with emerald and ruby stars,
+       Making cathedrals of immensity
+     For the everlasting worship without words.
+
+All, or some, of the wondrous, impenetrable picture-land:
+                   The crimson seas,
+           Flashing in uncreated light,
+               Crowded with galleons
+    On a mission to ports where dwell the old gods
+   And the mighty intellects of the Immortals.
+           The ceaseless occupations,
+           The language and the lore;
+The arts, and thoughts, the music, and the instruments;
+  The beauty and the divine glory of the faces,
+           And how the Immortals love,
+           Whether they wed like Adamites,
+           Or are too happy to wed,
+           Living in single blessedness!
+           Well, I know it is rubbish,
+           The veriest star-dust of fancy,
+         To think of such a thing as this
+     Being a memorial heirloom of the fore-world,
+            Such rude effigies of men,
+     Such clodbrains, as these poor mound builders!
+
+ Their souls never had any priority in the life of them;
+            No background of eternity
+            Over which they had traversed
+                From eon to eon,
+            Sun-system to sun-system,
+            Planets and stars under them,
+            Planets and stars over them;
+ Now dwelling on immeasurable plains of azure
+               Bigger than space,
+    Dazzling with the super-tropical brightness
+      Of passionate flowers without a name,
+    In all the romance of color and beauty--
+          Now, in the cities celestial,
+          Where they made their acquaintances
+   With other souls, which had never been incarnated,
+          But were getting themselves ready
+            By an intuitive obedience
+      To a well-understood authority,
+              Which had never spoken,
+      To take upon themselves the living form
+        Of some red-browed, fire-eyed Mars-man,
+          Some pale-faced, languishing son
+          Of the Phalic planet Venus,
+        Or wherever else it might be,
+         In what remote star soever
+       Quivering on shadowy battlements.
+       Along the lines of the wilderness,
+             Of worlds beyond worlds,
+         These souls were to try their fortunes.
+
+       Surely, no experience of this sort
+           Ever happened unto them,
+       Although one would like to invest them
+   With the glory of it, for the sake of the soul.
+         But they were, to speak truth of them,
+           A sort of journeyman work,
+           Not a Phidian statuary,
+            But a first cast of man,
+              A rude draft of him;
+      Huge gulfs, as of dismal Tartarus,
+  Separating him from the high-born Caucasian.
+             He, a mere Mongolian,
+       As good, perhaps, in his faculties,
+             As any Jap. or Chinaman--
+           But not of the full-orbed brain,
+           Star-blown, and harmonious
+       With all sweet voices as of flutes in him,
+           And viols, bassoons, and organs;
+Capable of the depths and circumferences of thought,
+           Of sphynxine entertainments,
+         And the dramas of life and death.
+
+       A plain fellow, and a practical,
+           With picture in him and symbol,
+       And thus not altogether clay-made,
+       But touched with the fire of the rainbow,
+         And the finger of the first light,
+       Waiting for the second and the third light,
+           Expectant through the ages,
+             And disappointed;
+             Never receiving more,
+       But going down, at last, a dark man,
+       And a lonely, through the dark galleries
+         Of death, and behind the curtain
+               Where all is light.
+
+       I like to think of him, and see his works:
+          I like to read him in his mounds,
+  And think I can make out a good deal of his history.
+               He was a half-dumb man,
+               Very sorrowful to see,
+         But brave, nevertheless, and bravely
+             Struggling to fling out his thoughts,
+               In a kind of dumb speech;
+        Struggling, indeed, after poetry
+        Daedalian forms, and eloquence;
+        Ambitious of distinguishing himself
+        In the presence of wolves and bisons
+          And all organic creatures;
+            Of making his claim good
+        Against these, his urgent disputants,
+          That he was lord of the planet.
+
+              If he could not write books,
+        He could scrawl the earth with his record:
+              He could make hieroglyphs,
+        Constellations of mounds and animals,
+          Effigies of unnamable things,
+          Monsters, and hybrids unnatural,
+        Bred of grotesque fancies; and man-forms.
+          These last, none of your pigmies
+              A span long in the womb,
+        And six feet, at full growth, out of it--
+            But bigger in chest and paunch,
+      In the girth of his muscular shackle-bones,
+            Round his colossal shoulders,
+        Round his Memnonian countenance,
+          Over the dome of his skull-crypts--
+          From crown to foot of his body--
+          Than grimmest of old Welsh giants,
+          Grimmest of Araby ogres!
+
+        Many a time talking with gray hunters,
+        Who leaned on their rifles against a tree,
+            And made the bright landscape
+  And the golden morning fuller of gold and brightness
+        By the contrast of their furrowed faces,
+              Their shaggy eyebrows,
+        And the gay humor laughing in their eyes,
+  Their unkempt locks, their powder horns, and buskins,
+    And the wild attire, in general, of their persons--
+          Many a time have I heard them
+            Tell of these man-effigies
+        Lying prone on the floors of the prairie.
+        And, in my whim for correspondence,
+    And perpetual seeking after identities,
+I have likened them to the stone sculptures, in cathedrals,
+        Cut by pious hands out of black marble,
+    Memorial resemblances of holy abbots,
+    Of Christian knights, founders of religious houses,
+            Of good lords of fair manors,
+          Who left largess to these houses,
+          Beneficed the arched wine-cellars
+          With yearly butts of canary,
+              Or, during their lifetime,
+   Beautified the west front with stately windows
+     Of colored glass, emblazoned with Scripture stories,
+The sunlight in shadowy reflections painting the figures
+       With blue and gold and crimson
+     Upon the cold slabs of the pavement.
+
+        These effigies, stiff, formal,
+       Rudely fashioned, and of poor art,
+       All of them lying, black and stark,
+Like a corpse-pageantry visioned in some monk's dream,
+        Lying thus, in the transepts,
+     On the cold, gray floor of the cathedral.
+
+        A curious conceit, truly!
+     But the prairie is also consecrated,
+        And quite as sacred I think it
+       As Rome's most holy of holies.
+     It blossoms and runs over with religion.
+       These meek and beautiful flowers!
+What sweet thoughts and divine prayers are in them!
+       These song birds! what anthems of praise
+       Gush out of their ecstatic throats!
+          I pray you, also, tell me,
+        What floors, sacred to what dead,
+  Can compare with the elaborate mosaic work
+  Of this wide, vast, outstretching floor of grass?
+        As good a place, I take it,
+  For the mound builder to make his man-effigies
+          Out of the mould in,
+    As the cathedral is, for its artists
+  To make man-effigies out of the black marble!
+        And the thought, too, is the same!
+The thought of the primeval savage of the stone era,
+        Roaming about in these wilds,
+        Before the beautiful Christ
+        Made the soul more beautiful,
+    Revealed the terror of its divine forces,
+      Announced its immortality,
+    And was nailed on a tree for His goodness!
+  While the monk, therefore, lay yet in the pagan brain,
+      And' Time had not so much as thought
+      Of sowing the seed for his coming--
+While his glorious cathedral, which, as we now know it,
+    Is an epic poem built in immortal stone,
+    Had no archetype except in the dreams of God,
+      Dim hints of it, lying like hopeless runes
+      In the forest trees and arches,
+Its ornamentations in the snow drifts, and the summer leaves and flowers--
+  No doubt, the mound-builder's man, put in effigy on the prairie,
+        Had been a benefactor, in his way and time;
+          Or, a great warrior; or learned teacher
+        Of things symbolized in certain mound-groups,
+          And which, from their arrangement,
+        Appertain, it would seem, to mysteries,
+          And ghostly communications.
+        They thought to keep green his memory,
+        The worship of him and his good deeds,
+              Unto the end of time,
+              Throughout all generations.
+            The holy men, born of Christ,
+        All Christendom but the development of him,
+            And all the world his debtor;
+        Even God owing him more largely
+          Than He has thought fit to pay back,
+            Taking the immense credit
+              Of nigh two thousand years!
+          These holy men, so born and cultured,
+            Could think of no way wiser,
+              Of no securer method
+        Of preserving the memory of their saints,
+          And of those who did good to them,
+    Than this rude, monumental way of the savage.
+              So singular is man,
+            So old-fashioned his thinkings,
+    So wonderful and similar his sympathies!
+        Everywhere the same, with a difference;
+              Cast in the same moulds,
+      Of the same animal wants, and common mind,
+          Of the same passions and vices,
+          Hating, loving, killing, lying--
+            A vast electrical chain
+    Running through tradition, and auroral history,
+              Up through the twilights,
+                And blazing noons,
+        Through vanishing and returning twilights,
+              Through azure nights of stars--
+            Epochs of civilization--
+            Unto the calmer glory,
+            Unto the settled days,
+              Unto the noble men--
+            _Nunc formosissimus annus!_
+
+  Thus do I, flinging curiously the webs of fancy
+        Athwart the time-gulfs, and the ages,
+Reconcile, after a kind, the primitive savage of America
+        With the wonderful genealogies--
+            Upsprung from the vital sap
+          Of the great life-tree, Igdrasil!
+            Thick and populous nations
+          Heavily bending its branches,
+  Each in its autumn time of one or two thousand years,
+      Like ripe fruits, fully developed and perfected,
+          From the germ whence they proceeded;
+        Nourished by strong saps of vitality,
+      By the red, rich blood of matured centuries,
+        By passionate Semitic sunlights;
+  Beautiful as the golden apples of the Hesperides!
+      Radiating, also, a divine beauty,
+        The flower-blossom and the aroma,
+      The final music, of a ripe humanity,
+        Whereof each particular nation
+            Was in its way and turn
+          The form and the expression,
+
+          Grand autumns were some of them!
+        Grand and beautiful, like that of Greece,
+    Whose glorious consummation always reminds me
+Of moving statues, music, and richest painting and architecture:
+      Her landscapes shimmering in golden fire-mists,
+      Which hang over the wondrously colored woods,
+          In a dreamy haze of splendor;
+        Revealing arched avenues, and tiny glades,
+          Cool, quiet spots, and dim recesses,
+          Green swards, and floral fairy lands,
+              Sweeping to the hilltops;
+    Illuminating the rivers in their gladsome course,
+    And the yellow shadows of the rolling marshes,
+  And the cattle of the farmer as they stand knee-deep
+            Switching their tails by the shore;
+          Lighting up the singing faces,
+          The sweet, laughing, singing faces,
+            Of the merry, playful brooks,
+          Now running away over shallows,
+            Now into gurgling eddies;
+              Now under fallen trees,
+          Past beaver dams long deserted;
+              Now under shady banks,
+            Lost in the tangled wood-growths;
+          Quivering now with, their laughter,
+            Out in the open meadow,
+            Flowing, singing and laughing,
+            Over the weeds and rushes,
+            Flowing and singing forever!
+
+        Plastic and beautiful, and running over
+    With Schiller's 'play impulse,' was the genius of Greece,
+  Of which her institutions and civility were the embodiment.
+        Other autumn times of the nations
+              Were calm and peaceful,
+      Symbolized above, as fruit on the branches
+            Of the life-tree, Igdrasil!
+              And when their time came,
+              They dropped down silently,
+    Like apples from their boughs on the autumn grass;
+        Silently dropped down, on moonlight plains,
+    In the presence of the great company of the stars,
+          And the flaming constellations,
+    Which evermore keep solemn watch over their graves.
+          Others were blown off suddenly,
+And prematurely--all the elements enraged against them;
+          And others, like the Dead Sea fruit,
+        Were rotten at the heart before their prime!
+
+    The old mound builder stands at the base of the tree,
+        At the base of the wonderful tree Igdrasil,
+        And the mighty branches thereof,
+        Which hang over his head in flame-shadows,
+        Germinated, and blossomed with nations,
+        In other lands, in another hemisphere
+        Far away, over the measureless brine,
+      From the mother earth where he was planted,
+            Where he grew and flourished,
+            And solved the riddle of life,
+                  And tried death,
+            And the riddle beyond death.
+
+        He thought this passionate America,
+        With its vast results of physical life,
+        Its beautiful and sublime portraitures,
+      Its far-sweeping prairies, rolling in grassy waves
+        Like the green billows of an inland sea--
+              Its blue-robed mountains
+        Piercing the bluer heavens with their peaks--
+            Its rivers, lakes, and forests--
+        A roomy, and grand-enough earth to inhabit,
+        Without thought of anything beyond it.
+
+          And yet he is related to all
+          That was, and is, and shall be!
+        That idea which was clothed in his flesh
+        Is fleshed in I know not how many
+          Infinite forms and varieties,
+          In every part of the earth,
+        In this day of my generation.
+        But the flesh is a little different,
+    And here and there the organism a nobler one,
+      And the idea bigger, broader, deeper,
+    Of a more divine quality and diapason.
+  He is included in us, as the lesser in the greater;
+    All our enactments are repetitions of his;
+              Enlarged and adorned;
+          And we pass through all his phases,
+        Some time or other, in our beginnings--
+    Through his, and an infinity of larger ones--
+    And we have the same inevitable endings.
+
+
+
+
+A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE:
+
+ITS POSSIBILITY, SCIENTIFIC NECESSITY, AND APPROPRIATE CHARACTERISTICS
+
+
+The idea of the possibility and desirableness of a universal language,
+scientifically constituted; a common form of speech for all the nations
+of mankind; for the remedy of the confusion and the great evil of Babel,
+is not wholly new. The celebrated Leibnitz entertained it. It was, we
+believe, glanced at among the schemes of Lord Monboddo. Bishop Wilkins
+devoted years of labor to the accomplishment of the task, and thought he
+had accomplished it. He published the results of his labors in heavy
+volumes, which have remained, as useless lumber, on the shelves of the
+antiquarian, or of those who are curious in rare books. A young
+gentleman of this city, of a rare genius, by the name of Fairbank, who
+died by a tragical fate a few years since, labored assiduously to the
+same end. A society of learned men has recently been organized in Spain,
+with their headquarters at Barcelona, devoted to the same work. Numerous
+other attempts have probably been made. In all these attempts, projects,
+and labors, the design has never transcended the purpose of _Invention_.
+The effort has been simply to _contrive_ a new form of speech, and to
+persuade mankind to accept it;--a task herculean and hopeless in its
+magnitude and impracticability; but looking still in the direction of
+the supply of one of the greatest needs of human improvement. The
+existence of no less than two or three thousand different languages and
+idioms on the surface of the planet, in this age of railroad and
+steamship communication, presents, obviously, one of the most serious
+obstacles to that unification of humanity which so many concurrent
+indications tend, on the other hand, to prognosticate.
+
+Another and different outlook toward a unity of speech for the race
+comes up from a growing popular impression that all existing languages
+must be ultimately and somewhat rapidly smelted into one by the mere
+heat and attrition of our intense modern international intercourse. Each
+nationality is beginning to put forth its pretensions as the proper and
+probable matrix of the new agglomerate, or philological pudding-stone,
+which is vaguely expected to result. The English urge the commercial
+supremacy of their tongue; the French the colloquial and courtly
+character of theirs; the Germans the inherent energy and philosophical
+adaptation of the German; the Spanish the wide territorial distribution
+and the pompous euphony of that idiom; and so of the other
+nationalities.
+
+Both invention, which is the genius of adaptation, and the blending
+influence of mere intercourse, may have their appropriate place as
+auxiliaries, in the reconstruction of human speech, in accordance with
+the exigencies of the new era which is dawning on the world; but there
+is another and far more basic and important element, which may, and
+perhaps we may say must, appear upon the stage, and enter into the
+solution. This is the element of positive Scientific _Discovery_ in the
+lingual domain. It may be found that every elementary sound of the human
+voice is _inherently laden_ by _nature herself_ with a primitive
+significance; that the small aggregate of these meanings is precisely
+that handful of the Primitive Categories of all _Thought_ and all
+_Being_ which the Philosophers, from Aristotle up to Kant, have so
+industriously and painfully sought for. The germ of this idea was
+incipiently and crudely struggling in the mind of the late
+distinguished philologist, Dr. Charles Kreitser, formerly professor of
+languages in the University of Virginia, and author of numerous valuable
+articles in Appletons' 'Cyclopaedia;' the most learned man, doubtless,
+that unfortunate Hungary has contributed to our American body of savans.
+This element of discovery may, in the end, take the lead, and immensely
+preponderate in importance over the other two factors already mentioned
+as participating in the solution of a question of a planetary language.
+The idea certainly has no intrinsic improbability, that the normal
+language of mankind should be matter of discovery as the normal music of
+the race has been already. There was an instinctual and spontaneous
+development of music in advance of the time when science acted
+reflectively upon the elements and reconstituted it in accordance with
+the musical laws so discovered. Why may we not, why ought we not even to
+expect, analogically, that the same thing will occur for speech?
+
+Setting aside, however, for the present occasion, the profounder inquiry
+into the inherent significance of sounds, and into all that flows
+logically from that novel and recondite investigation, we propose at
+present to treat in a more superficial way the subject indicated in the
+title of this article--A Universal Language; its Possibility, Scientific
+Necessity, and Appropriate Characteristics.
+
+The expansion of the scope of science is at this day such that the
+demand for discriminating technicalities exceeds absolutely the capacity
+of all existing language for condensed and appropriate combinations and
+derivations. Hence speech must soon fail to serve the new developments
+of thought, unless the process of word-building can be itself
+proportionately improved; unless, in other words, a new and
+scientifically constructed Language can be devised adequate to all the
+wants of science. It would seem that there should occur, in the range of
+possibilities, the existence of the _Plan_ in _Nature_ of a _New_ and
+_Universal Language_, copious, flexible, and expressive beyond measure;
+competent to meet the highest demands of definition and classification;
+and containing within itself a natural, compact, infinitely varied, and
+inexhaustible terminology for each of the Sciences, as ordained by fixed
+laws preexistent in the nature of things.
+
+This language should not then be an arbitrary contrivance, but should be
+elaborated from the fundamental laws of speech, existing in the
+constitution of the universe and of man, and logically traced to this
+special application. This knowledge of the underlying laws of speech
+should determine the mode of the combination of _Elementary Sounds_ into
+Syllables and Words, and of Words into Sentences naturally expressive of
+given conceptions or ideas. Such a language would rest on discovery, in
+that precise sense in which discovery differs from invention, and would
+have in itself infinite capacities and powers of expression, and again
+of suggesting thought; and might perhaps come to be recognized as the
+most stupendous discovery to which the human intellect is capable of
+attaining. 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
+and the Word was God.' The Word, or the _Logos_, is the underlying or
+hidden _Wisdom_ of which _speech_ is the external utterance or
+expression. Who can say how profoundly and intimately the underlying and
+hitherto undiscovered Laws of Speech may be consociated with the basic
+Principles _of all truth_ embedded in the Wisdom-Nature of God himself?
+The old Massonites had a faith, derived from certain mystical utterances
+of the Greek Philosophers, that whosoever should discover the right name
+for anything, would have absolute power over that thing. The Wisdom of
+Plato and the deeper Wisdom of Christ meet and are married to each
+other in the conception of John when he makes the startling assertion
+that the Logos, the Logic, the Law, the Word, is synonymous with God
+himself.
+
+The possibilities of the existence of such a language, divinely and
+providentially prepared in the constitution of things, and awaiting
+discovery, begins to be perceived, if the conception of the existence of
+an absolutely universal analogy be permitted fairly to take possession
+of the mind. Such an infinite scheme of analogy, rendering the same
+principles alike applicable in all spheres, must itself, in turn, rest
+upon a Divine Unity of Plan reigning throughout the Universe, the
+execution of which Plan is the act or the continuity of the acts of
+Creation. The Religious Intuition of the Race has persistently insisted
+upon the existence of this Unity, to the conception of which the
+scientific world is only now approximatingly and laboriously ascending.
+
+If there be such Analogy in Nature furnishing an echo and an image in
+every department of Being of all that exists in every other department
+of Being, certainly that Analogy must be _most distinct_ and _clearly
+discoverable as between the Elements, or the lowest and simplest
+Constituents of Being in each Sphere_. The lowest and simplest elements
+of Language are Oral Sounds, which in written Languages are represented
+by Letters, and constitute the Alphabets of those Languages. The
+Alphabets of Sound must be clearly distinguished from the mere
+Letter-Alphabets by which the Sounds are variously represented. The
+Sound-Alphabets (the Scales of Phonetic Elements) of any two Languages
+differ only in the fact that one of the Languages may include a few
+Sounds which are not heard in the other, or may omit a few which are.
+
+The Mouth, the Larynx (a cartilaginous box at the top of the windpipe),
+and the Nose--the compound organ of speech--constitute an instrument,
+capable, like the accordeon, for instance, of a certain number of
+distinct touches and consequent vocal effects, which produce the sounds
+heard in all existing Languages. The total of the possible sounds so
+produced or capable of production may be called the Crude or Unwinnowed
+Alphabet of Nature, or the Natural Alphabet of Human Language
+generically or universally considered. Thus, for instance, the sound
+represented in English and the Southern European Languages generally, by
+the letter _m_, is made by the contact of the two lips, while at the
+same time the sounding breath so interrupted is projected upon the
+_sounding board_ of the head _through the nose_, whence _resounding_, it
+is discharged outwardly, this process giving to the sound produced that
+peculiar effect called _nasal_ or _nose-sound_; and precisely this sound
+can be produced by the voice in no other way. This sound is,
+nevertheless, heard in nearly all Languages, although there are a few
+imperfect savage dialects which are destitute of it. The production of
+this sound, as above described, will be obvious to the reader if he will
+pronounce the word _my_, and will attend to the position of the lips
+when he begins to utter the word. Let him attempt to say _my_, without
+closing the lips, and the impossibility of doing so will be apparent.
+The production of the sound is therefore mechanical and local; and the
+number of sounds to be produced by the organ fixed and limited,
+therefore, by Nature herself. The very limited number of possible sounds
+may be guessed by the fact that of sounds produced by _completely
+closing the two lips_, there are only three, namely, _p_, _b_, _m_, in
+all the Languages of the earth (as in _p_-ie, _b_-y, _m_-y).
+
+It is the same with all the other vocal sounds. They are _necessarily_
+produced at certain fixed localities or Seats of Sound, in the mouth,
+and by a certain fixed modulation or mechanical use of the Organs of
+Speech. At least they are produced in and are confined to certain
+circumscribed regions of the mouth, and so differ in the method of
+their production as to be appropriately distributed into certain Natural
+Classes: as Vowels and Consonants; Labials (Lip Sounds); Linguo-dentals
+(Tongue-Teeth Sounds); Gutturals (Back-Mouth or Throat Sounds), etc.,
+etc.
+
+From the whole number of sounds which it is possible to produce--the
+whole Crude Natural Alphabet--one Language of our existing Languages
+selects a certain number less than the whole, and another Language doing
+the same, it happens that while they mainly coincide, they, so to speak,
+shingle over each other at random, and it follows: 1. That the Number of
+Sounds in different Languages is not uniform; 2. That of any two
+Languages compared, one will chance to have several sounds not heard in
+the other; and, 3. The erroneous impression is made upon the casual and
+superficial observer that in the aggregate of all Languages there must
+be an immense number of sounds; whereas, in fact, the total Alphabet of
+Vocal Sounds in nature, like the Gamut of Colors or Musical Tones, is
+quite limited, if we attend only to those which distinctly differ, or
+stand at appropriate and appreciable distances from each other.
+
+Further to illustrate: Assume that there are, capable of being clearly
+discriminated by the human ear, say sixty-four or seventy-two distinct
+Elementary Sounds of the human voice, in all--as many, for example, as
+there are Chemical Elements; some existing Languages select and make use
+of twenty, some of twenty-four, some of thirty, and some of forty of
+these sounds, omitting the rest.
+
+But--and here is a very important point and a real discovery in this
+investigation--it will be found, if closely attended to, that a certain
+selection of one half of this number, say thirty-two or thirty-six of
+these sounds, embraces the whole body of vocal elements _usually
+occurring_ in all the forms of speech on the planet; the remaining half
+consisting of rare, exceptional, and, we may nearly say, useless sounds.
+This statement will again be better understood by analogy with what
+regards the Elements of Chemistry. Just about one half of the known
+elements of matter occur with frequency, and enter into useful and
+ordinary combinations to produce the great mass of known substances. The
+remaining half are unfrequent, obscure, and relatively unimportant; some
+of them never having been seen even by many of our most eminent
+chemists. Even should a few new elements be discovered, it cannot be
+anticipated that any one of them should prove to be of leading
+importance, like oxygen, carbon, or sulphur.
+
+On the other hand, should some future great chemical discovery realize
+the dream of the alchemists, and enable us to transmute iron into gold,
+and indeed every chemical Element into every other chemical Element
+(convertible identity), still the sixty-four (nearly) Chemical Elements
+now known would remain the real Elements of Organic and Inorganic
+Compounds, in a sense just as important as that in which they are now so
+regarded. The now known Elements would still continue to constitute _The
+Crude Natural Alphabet of Matter_, and be correspondential with _The
+Crude Natural Alphabet of Sounds in Language_. The transmutability of
+one element into another indefinitely, would not, in any but a certain
+absolute or transcendental sense, cause the Elements to be regarded as
+one, or as any less number than now. It would be, on the contrary, a
+fact precisely corresponding with the actual and well-known
+transmutability of speech-sounds into each other as occurs in the
+phenomena of Etymology and Comparative Philology. This is so extensive,
+as now understood by Comparative Philologists, that it would be hardly
+difficult to prove that every sound is capable of being transmuted into
+every other sound, either directly or through intermediates; and yet we
+do not in the least tend to cease to regard the several sounds as they
+stand as the real Elements of Speech.
+
+It is this transmutability of Correspondential Elements in another
+sphere of Being, which bases the presumption, or gives to it at least
+countenance from a new quarter, that the metals and other chemical
+Elements may be actually convertible substances by means of processes
+not yet suspected or sufficiently understood. The more careful study of
+the Analogy with the Elements of other spheres, and perhaps specifically
+with the Elements of Language, under the presiding influence of larger
+scientific generalizations and views than those which now prevail in the
+scientific world, may be, and, it would even seem, ought to be the means
+of revealing the law of Elementary Transmutations in the Chemical
+Domain. The expectation of a future discovery of the resolution of the
+existing Elements of Matter, and their convertibility even, is reviving
+in the chemical field, and even so distinguished a chemist and thinker
+as Professor Draper does not hesitate to sustain its probability by the
+weight of his authority and belief. The process by which the
+transmutation of Elements is actually effected in Language, is by _Slow
+and Continued Attrition_. These very words suggest a process but little
+resorted to in chemical experiment, but which probably intervenes in the
+Laboratory of Nature, when she makes the diamond out of a substance,
+simple carbon, the most familiarly known to chemistry, but out of which
+the human chemist is entirely unable by any process known to him to
+produce that precious gem.
+
+Whether this particular hint is of any value or not, one thing is
+certain, that it is in the direction of Universal and Comparative
+Science--the analogical echo of the parts of one Domain of Being with
+the parts of another Domain and of all other Domains of Being; of the
+phenomena of one Science with the phenomena of other Sciences; and
+especially as among the Elements of each--that we must look for the next
+grand advances in Scientific Discovery. The world urgently requires the
+existence of a new class of scientific students who shall concern
+themselves precisely with these questions of the relations and the
+indications of unity between the different Sciences; not to displace,
+but to transcend and to cooerdinate the labors of that noble Army of
+Scientific Specialists, with which Humanity is now so extensively and so
+happily provided.
+
+
+The _Select_ Lingual Alphabet of Nature, as distinguished from the
+_Crude_ Natural Alphabet above described, is then the expurgated scale
+of sounds, say thirty-two; the sounds of usual occurrence in polished
+languages; one half of the whole number; the residuum after rejecting an
+equal number of obscure, unimportant, or barbarous sounds, of possible
+production and of real occurrence in some of the cruder Languages, and
+as crude elements even in the more refined Languages now extant. The two
+sounds of _th_ in English, as in _th_igh and _th_y (the _theta_ of the
+Greek), and the two shades of the _ch_-sound in German, as in na_ch_ and
+i_ch_, are instances of crude sounds in refined Languages, for which
+other Languages, more fastidious for Euphony, as French and Italian for
+example, naturally substitute _t_, _d_, and _k_ (_c_). The obscure and
+crude sounds would always retain, however (in respect to the idea of a
+Universal Alphabet), a subordinate place and value, and should be
+gathered and represented in a Supplementary Alphabet for special and
+particular uses.
+
+It has been the mistake of Phoneticians and Philologians, heretofore, to
+recognize no difference in the relative importance of sounds. They have
+sought, through every barbarous dialect, as well as every refined
+tongue, and gathered by the drag-net of observation, every barbarous and
+obscure as well as every polite sound which by any accident ever enters
+into the constitution of speech. The clucks of Hottentot Tribes and the
+whistle heard in some of the North American Languages have been reckoned
+in, upon easy terms, with the more serviceable and euphonious members of
+the Phonetic family, and mere trivial shades of sounds were put upon the
+same footing as the pivotal sounds themselves. This is as if certain
+obdurate compounds were introduced in the first instance among Chemical
+Elements--which subsequent analysis may even prove to be the case in
+respect to some substances that we now recognize as Elements--and then,
+by assigning to the least important of Elements the same rank, and
+giving to them the same attention as to the most important, the number
+were augmented beyond the practical or working body of Elements, and our
+treatises upon Chemistry encumbered by a mass of useless matter. Or
+again, it is as if among the Elements of Music were included all
+conceivable sounds, as the squeal, the shriek, the sob, etc.; and as if,
+in addition to this, the least intervals, the quarter tones for
+instance, were ranked as the musical equals of the whole tones.
+
+If it should prove a matter of fact, as capable of exact scientific
+demonstration as any other, that the Consonant and Vowel Elements of
+Oral Language are, in a radical and important sense, repetitory of, or
+correspondential with, Musical Tones or the Elements of Music, as well
+as with Chemical Elements, and these again with the Elements of
+Numerical Calculation, of Form, or the Science of Morphology, and, in
+fine, with the Prime Metaphysical Elements of Being, or the first
+Categories of Thought, perhaps we may by such speculations catch a
+glimpse of the possibilities of a great lingual discovery, having the
+attributes here indicated. _Why should not the Elements of Speech have
+been brought by Nature herself into some sort of parallelism with the
+Elements of Thought which it is the special province of Speech to
+represent?_ Why, again, should not the Prime Elements of every new
+domain of Being be merely a Repetition in new form of the Prime Elements
+of the Universe, as a whole, and of those especially of Language, its
+representative domain?--Language being the literal word, as Universal
+Law is the Logos or the Word _par excellence_, and Divine. In that
+event, every speech-element would be of necessity inherently charged
+with the precise kind and degree of meaning specifically relating it,
+first to one of the Prime Elements of Being, metaphysically considered,
+and then, by an echo of resemblance, to one of the Prime Elements of
+every subordinate domain of Being throughout the Universe. The
+Combinations of the Letter-Sounds would then constitute words exactly,
+simply, and naturally expressive of any combination of the Elements of
+Being, either, first, in the Universal domain, or, secondly, in any
+subordinate domain, physical or psychical. In this way a grand and
+wonderful system of technicals would be wrought out for all the
+sciences--_provided by Nature herself, and discovered, only, by man_. It
+is at least certain that if a grand Science of Analogy is ever to be
+discovered, capable of Unifying all our knowledges, an anticipation
+vaguely entertained by our most advanced scientific minds, it must be
+sought for primarily among the simplest elements of every domain of
+science, or, what is the same thing, every domain of Thought and Being.
+It is alike certain that heretofore the first step even has never been
+rightly taken among the men of science to investigate in that direction.
+The failure of all those who have entertained the idea of a Universal
+Analogy as a basis of Scientific Unity, has resulted from the fact that,
+drawn rapidly along by the beauty of their conceptions, they have
+attempted to rush forward into the details of their subject, and have
+lost themselves in the infinity of these, without the wisdom and
+patience to establish a basis for their immense fabric in the exact
+discovery and knowledge of Elements. They have hastened forward to the
+limbs and twigs and leaves and flowers and fruitage, without having
+securely planted the roots of their scientific tree in the solid earth.
+Such was the case with Oken, the great German Physio-Philosopher and
+Transcendental Anatomist, the pupil of Hegel, who exerted a profound
+influence over the scientific mind of Germany for thirty years, but has
+now sunk into disrepute for want of just that elementary and
+demonstrative discovery of first Elements, and the rigorous adhesion to
+such perceptions of that kind as were partially entertained by him and
+his school of powerful thinkers and scientists.
+
+To repeat the leading idea above, which is so immensely pregnant with
+importance, and, perhaps we may add, so essentially new: The
+combinations of Speech-Elements--in a perfect and normal Language for
+the Human Race, which we are here assuming that Nature should have
+provided, and which may be only awaiting discovery--when they should be
+rightly or scientifically arranged into words and sentences, would be
+exactly concurrent and parallel with the combinations of the _Prime
+Elements_ of Thought and Being in the Real Universe; so that each word,
+so formed, would become exactly charged with the kind and amount of
+meaning contained in the thing named or the conception intended. An idea
+will thus be obtained by the reader, somewhat vague, no doubt, at first,
+but which would become perfectly distinct, as the subject should be
+gradually unfolded, of the way in which a universal language naturally
+expressive of Thoughts and Feelings, and capable of unlimited expansion,
+might perhaps be evolved from a profound understanding of the Analogies
+of the Universe. It is important, however, in order that this theory,
+now when it is first presented, should not unnecessarily prejudice
+cautious and conservative minds, and seem to them wholly Utopian, to
+guard it by the additional statement that, while such a language might
+be appropriately denominated Universal, there is a sense in which it
+would still not be so; or, in other words, that it could only become
+Universal by causing to coalesce with its own scientifically organized
+structure, the best material already wrought out, and existing as
+_natural growth_ in the dead and living languages now extant; by
+absorbing them, so to speak, in itself. It would have no pretension,
+therefore, directly to supersede any of the existing languages, nor even
+ultimately to dispense with the great mass of the material found in any
+of them.
+
+It is a common prejudice among the learned that Language is a growth,
+and cannot in any sense be a structure; in other words, that it is
+purely the subject of the instinctive or unthoughted development of man,
+and not capable of being derived from reflection, or the deliberate
+application of the scheming faculty of the intellect. A little
+reflection will show that this opinion is only a half truth. It is
+certain that language has received its primitive form and first
+development by the instinctive method. It is equally true, however, that
+even as respects our existing languages, they have been overlaid by a
+subsequent formation, originating with the development of the
+_Sciences_, due wholly to reflection on the scheming faculty of man, and
+already equal in extension to the primitive growth. The Nomenclature of
+each of the Sciences has been devised by the reflective genius of
+individuals, and arbitrarily imposed, so to speak, upon the Spoken and
+Written Languages of the World, as they previously existed. From the
+cabinets and books of the learned, they gradually pass into the speech
+of the laity, and become incorporated with the primitive growth. If,
+instead of the Carbonate of Soda, the Protoxide of Nitrogen, and other
+Chemical Technicalities arbitrarily formed in modern times from the
+ancient Greek Language, terms which the ancient Greeks themselves never
+heard nor conceived of, we had words derived from similar combinations
+of Anglo-Saxon or German Roots; if, for instance, for Protoxide of
+Nitrogen, we had the _First-sour-stuffness_, or the
+_First-sharp-thingness of Salt-petreness_, and so throughout the immense
+vocabulary of chemistry, what an essentially different aspect would the
+whole English Language now wear! Had Lavoisier, therefore, chosen the
+Anglo-Saxon or the German as the basis of the chemical nomenclature now
+in use, we can readily perceive how the intellectual device of a single
+savant, would, ere this time, have sent a broad current of new
+development through the heart of all the advanced Languages of the
+earth; of a different kind wholly, but no more extensive, no more novel,
+and truly foreign to the primitive instinctual growth of those
+Languages, no more purely the result of intellectual contrivance, than
+the current of development to which he actually did give origin.
+
+Lavoisier chose the dead Greek as a fountain from which to draw the
+elements of his new verbal compounds, assigning to those elements
+arbitrarily new volumes of meaning, and constructing from them, with no
+other governing principle than his own judgment of what seemed best, a
+totally new Language, as it were, adequate to the wants of the new
+Science. Still, despite these imperfections in the method, the demand,
+with the growth of the new ideas, for a new expansion of the powers of
+Language, in a given direction, made the contrivance of the great
+chemist a successful interpolation upon the speech-usages of the world.
+It is certainly not therefore inconceivable--because of any governing
+necessity that Language should be a purely natural growth--that other
+and greater modifications of the speech of mankind may occur; when--not
+an arbitrary contrivance upon an imperfect basis and of a limited
+application is in question, but--when a real discovery, the revelation
+of the true scientific bases of Language, and limitless applications in
+all directions, should be concerned.
+
+On the other hand, the extent of the practical applications of strictly
+scientific principles to the Structure of Language is subject to
+limitation. Even mathematics, theoretically the most unlimited of the
+existing Sciences, is practically limited very soon by the complexity of
+the questions involved in the higher degrees of equations. In the same
+manner, while it may be possible to construct a Scientific Language
+adequate to all the wants of Language, in which exactness is involved;
+that is to say, capable of classifying and naming every object and idea
+in the Universe which is itself capable of exact classification and
+definition, still there remains an immense sphere, an equal half, it may
+be said, of the Universe of objects and conceptions, which have not that
+susceptibility; which are, in other words, so complex, so idiosyncratic,
+or so vague in their nature, that the best guide for the formation of an
+appropriate word for their expression is not Intellect or Reflection,
+but that very Instinct which has presided over the formation of such
+Languages as we now have. We may accurately define a triangle or a cube,
+and might readily bring them within the range of a Universal Language
+scientifically constructed; but who would venture to attempt by any
+verbal contrivance to denote the exact elements of thought and feeling
+which enter into the meaning of the verbs _to screech_ or _to twinge_?
+
+There is, therefore, ample scope and a peremptory demand for both
+methods of lingual development. The New Scientific Language herein
+suggested would be universal within the limit within which Science
+itself is universal. But there is another sphere within which Science,
+born of the Intellect, has only a subordinate sway, and in which
+instinct, or that faculty which, in the higher aspect of it, we
+denominate Intuition, is supreme. This faculty has operated as instinct
+in the first stage of the growth of Language, the Natural or
+Instinctual; it should now give place to the Intellect, in the second
+stage, the Scientific; after which it should regain its ascendency as
+Intuition, in the final finish and perfectionment of the Integral Speech
+of Mankind, the Artistic.
+
+Such a Language would be, to all other Languages, precisely what a
+unitary Science would be to all the special Sciences; and we have seen
+how it might happen that the same discovery should furnish both the
+Language and the Science. Without rudely displacing any existing
+Language, it would, besides filling its own central sphere of uses,
+furnish a rallying point of unity between them all. It would ally them
+to itself, not by the destruction of their several individualities, but
+by developing the genius of each to the utmost. It would enrich them
+all, by serving as the common interpreter between them, until each would
+attain something of the powers of all, or at least the full capacity for
+availing itself of the aid of all others, and chiefly of the central
+tongue, in all those respects in which in consequence of its own special
+character it should remain individually defective. The new Scientific
+and Central Language might thus plant itself in the midst of the
+Languages; gradually assimilate them to itself; drawing at the same time
+an augmentation of its own materials from them, until they would become
+mere idioms of it, and finally, perhaps, in a more remote future,
+disappear altogether as distinct forms of speech, and be blended into
+harmony in the bosom of the central tongue.
+
+The resources of Language for the formation of new words, by the
+possible euphonic combination of elementary sounds, is as nearly
+infinite as any particular series of combinations usually called
+infinite; all such series having their limitations, as in the case of
+the different orders of the Infinite in the calculus which are limited
+by the fact that there are different orders. Yet, notwithstanding that
+this inexhaustible fountain of Phonetic wealth exists directly at hand,
+none of these resources have ever been utilized by any scientific
+arrangement and advice. Only so many verbal forms as happen to have
+occurred in any given language, developed by the chance method, in the
+Greek, for instance, are chosen as a basis, and employed as elements for
+the new verbal formatives now coming into use with such astonishing
+rapidity in all the sciences. For instance, let us take the consonant
+combination _kr_ (or _cr_), and add the following series of vowels: _i_
+(pronounced _ee_), _e_ (pronounced _a_), _a_ (pronounced _ah_), _o_
+(pronounced _aw_), _u_ (pronounced _uh_), _o_ (pronounced _o_), and _u_
+(pronounced _oo_); and we construct the following series of euphonic
+triliteral roots:
+
+Kri (Kree)
+
+Kre (Kra or Kray)
+
+Kra (Krah)
+
+Kr_o_ (Kraw)
+
+Kr_u_ (Kruh)
+
+Kro (Kro)
+
+Kru (Kroo).
+
+Let us now add the termination _o_, and we have the following list of
+formatives:
+
+Kri-o (Kree-o)
+
+Kre-o (Kra-o)
+
+Kra-o (Krah-o)
+
+Kr_o_-o (Kraw-o)
+
+Kr_u_-o (Kr_uh_-o)
+
+Kro-o (Kro-o)
+
+Kru-o (Kroo-o).
+
+Of these verbal forms only two occur in any of the well-known
+Southwestern Languages of Europe, namely, _Creo_, I CREATE, of the
+Latin, Italian, etc., and _Crio_, I REAR, of the Spanish. The other
+forms are entirely unused. Of any other simple series of Euphonic
+combinations, such as Phonetic art can readily construct, there is the
+same wasteful neglect, and, in consequence of this total failure of the
+scientific world to extract these treasures of Phonic wealth lying
+directly beneath their feet, they are driven to such desperate devices
+as that of naming the two best-known and most familiar order of fishes,
+those usually found on our breakfast tables, _Acanthopterygii
+Abdominales_, and _Malacopterygii Subbrachiati_; and the common and
+beautiful bird called bobolink is _Dolichonyx Orixyvora_. For the same
+reason--the entire absence of any economical and systematized use of our
+phonetic materials by the scientific world--the writer found himself,
+recently, in attempting certain generalizations of the domain of
+science, stranded almost at the commencement, upon such verbal shoals as
+_Anthropomorphus Inorganismoidismus_; and the subsequent steps in the
+mere naming of discriminations simple enough in themselves, became
+wholly impossible. The urgent necessity existing, therefore, for the
+radical intervention of Science in the discovery of true principles
+applicable to the construction of its own tools and instruments, can
+hardly be denied or questioned.
+
+The immense condensation of meaning, and the consequent compactness and
+copiousness of which a Language based on a meaning inherently contained
+by analogy in the simplest elements of sound would be susceptible, would
+give to such a Language advantages as the instrument of thought and
+communication, which are but very partially illustrated in the
+superiority of printing by movable types over manuscript, for the rapid
+multiplication of books.
+
+In the _compound words_ of existing Languages each root-word of the
+combination has a distinct meaning, and the joint meaning of the parts
+so united is the description or definition of the new idea; thus in
+German, _Finger_ is FINGER, and _Hut_ is HAT, and _Finger-hut_
+(FINGER-HAT) is a _thimble_; _Hand_ is HAND, _Schue_ is SHOE, and
+_Hand-schue_ is _a glove_, etc. So in English, _Wheel-barrow_,
+_Thunder-storm_, etc. The admirable expressiveness of such terms, and
+the great superiority in this respect of Languages like the Sanscrit,
+Greek, German, etc., in which such self-defining combinations are
+readily formed, over Spanish, Italian, French, and other derivative
+languages, the genius of which resists combination, is immediately
+perceived and acknowledged. But if we analyze any one of these compound
+words, _Finger-hut_, for instance, we shall perceive that while each of
+the so-called elements of combination, _Finger_ and _Hut_, has a
+distinct meaning, which enters into the more specific meaning of the
+compound, yet they are not, in any true sense, elements, or, in other
+words, that they are not the ultimate elements of the compound words.
+_Finger_ is itself constituted, in the first instance, of two syllables,
+_Fing_ and _er_, which, in accordance with the same principle upon which
+the compound word _Finger-hut_ is organized, should describe the thing
+signified, as would be the case if _Fing_ meant HAND, and _er_ meant
+CONTINUATION. _Finger_ would then mean HAND-CONTINUATION, and
+_Finger-hut_ (_thimble_) would then be a HAND-CONTINUATION-HAT. But,
+again, _Fing_ consists of three elementary sounds, _f-i-ng_, _er_ of
+two, _e-r_, and _hut_ of three, _h-u-t_. Suppose now that the primary
+sound _f_ had been scientifically discovered to be correspondential
+throughout all the realms of Nature and of Thought with _Superiority_,
+_High-position_, or _Upperness_; _i_ with _centrality_, or _main body_,
+and _ng_ with _member_ or _branch_; the syllable _Fing_ would then
+signify UPPER-BODY-BRANCH, a very proper description of _the arm_.
+Suppose that _e_ signified, in the same way, _flat, palm-like ideas and
+things generally_ and that _r_ alone signified _continuation_; then _er_
+would signify PALM-CONTINUATION, and _Finger_ would signify an
+UPPER-BODYBRANCH-PALM-CONTINUATION, or, in other words, a
+_Palm-continuation of an upper-body-branch_, and would so be completely
+_descriptive of_, at the same time that it would _denote_, a Finger.
+Suppose, again, that _h_ signified inherently _rotundity_ or
+_roundness_; _u_, _closeness_; and _t_, _roof_ or _covering_; then _hut_
+would signify ROUND-CLOSED-COVER, a proper description of a _hat_; and
+_Finger-hut_ would then mean
+AN-UPPER-BODY-BRANCH-PALM-CONTINUATION-ROUND-CLOSED-COVER, or _the
+round-closed-cover of a palm-continuation of a superior limb or branch
+of the body_. It will be at once perceived how, with such resources of
+signification at command, compounds like _Acanthopterygii_ to signify
+_thornfins_, _Malacopterygii Subbrachiati_, to signify _Under-arm soft
+fins_, or _Anthropomorphus Inorganismoidismus_, to signify _things in
+unorganized form, having a resemblance to man_, would soon come to be
+regarded as the lingual monsters which they really are.
+
+The difference between commencing the composition of words by the real
+elements of speech, represented by single letters, each charged with its
+own appropriate meaning, and conveying that meaning into every compound
+into which it should enter, from commencing the composition by assuming
+long words already formed in some existing language, as _Anthropos_
+(Greek word for _man_), _Acanthos_ (Greek word for _spine_), _Keron_
+(Greek word for _fin_ or _wing_), etc., as the first element of the new
+compounds, is infinite in its results upon the facility, copiousness,
+and expressiveness of the terminology evolved. It is like the difference
+of man working by the aid of the unlimited resources of tools and
+machinery and the knowledge of chemistry, on the one hand, and man
+working with his unaided _bare hands_, and in ignorance of the nature of
+the substances he employs, on the other hand. The scientific world has
+not hitherto known how to construct the lingual tools and instruments
+which are indispensable to its own rapidly augmenting and complicated
+operations; to analyze and apply the lingual materials at its command;
+and to simplify and unify the nomenclatures of all the sciences, in
+order to quicken a thousandfold the operation of all the mental
+faculties, in the perception and exact vocal indication of all the
+infinitely numerous close discriminations and broad generalizing
+analogies with which nature abounds.
+
+It is hardly necessary to say that the particular meanings assigned
+above to the single sounds in the analysis of the German word
+_Finger-hut_, are not assumed in any sense to be the real meanings of
+the vocal elements involved. The whole case is supposititious, and
+assumed merely to illustrate the unused possibilities of Language in the
+construction of significant words, and especially in the construction of
+scientific technicalities. To found a real Language of this kind, it
+would be necessary, first, to work up patiently to the true meanings of
+the Elementary Sounds of Human Speech, and then to the analogy of those
+meanings with the elements of universal being (the categories of the
+understanding, etc.), and finally of these again with the elements of
+each of the special Sciences.
+
+Could such a discovery be actually accomplished; should it prove to be
+the simple fact of nature that every sound of the human voice is
+Nature's chosen vehicle for the communication of an equally elementary
+idea; and that the Combinations of the Elementary Sounds into Words do
+inherently and necessarily, so soon as these primitive meanings and the
+law of their combination are known, produce words infinite in number and
+perfect in structure, naturally expressive of every precise idea of
+which the human mind is capable, it becomes perfectly conceivable how a
+Natural Universal Language would be evolved by discovery alone. The
+creation of the Language would belong to Nature as truly and
+absolutely--in a sense, more truly and absolutely--than our existing
+instinctual Languages. It would be in fact the normal Language of
+Humanity, from which, for the want of such a discovery, mankind has been
+unnaturally debarred. The fact would prove to be that we have ever been
+banished from our true vernacular, and have been, all our lives,
+speaking foreign or strange tongues, from which we have only to recur or
+come home. May we not, therefore, found in Science the rational
+expectation, that in due time, from a Lingual Paradise Lost in the
+remote Past, we may recur to a Lingual Paradise Regained, in literal
+fulfilment of the promise of prophecy, that all the nations of the earth
+shall be of one speech?
+
+
+
+
+A SUMMER'S NIGHT.
+
+[_Translated literally from the original Polish of Count S. Krasinski,
+by Prof. Podbielski; prepared for_ THE CONTINENTAL _by Martha Walker
+Cook._]
+
+'O'er this sad world Death folds his gloomy pall,
+Bright buds hatch worms, flowers die, and woe shrouds all.'
+
+                                  MALIZEWSKI.
+
+'Oh, look on me, my fellow countrymen,
+From the same Fatherland! On me, so young,
+Passing o'er the last road, gazing for the last time
+On Helios--to see him rise no more for ever!
+In his cold cradle Death rolls all asleep;
+Me _living_ he conducts to his black shores;
+Me wretched! unbetrothed! upon whose ears
+No bridal chant has ever hymned its joys,
+Stern Acheron alone calls to his side,
+And Death must be my icy Bridegroom now!'
+
+                       SOPHOCLES: _Antigone_.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+I behold her as they lead her forth, with myrtle wreath upon her brow,
+and floating drapery of snow. She moves slowly, as if in fear, and the
+church rises like a vast cemetery before her eyes. Charmed with her
+modest loveliness, men smile on her as she glides forward, while
+children, changed into little angels, strew fresh flowers before her.
+The bishop and attendant priests look bright in gay dalmatics; and
+throngs of people crowd round, praising, envying, and wishing bliss. She
+alone is silent, with long lashes shading her downcast eyes, as she
+leans on the arms of her maidens.
+
+Weariness is in every movement of her slight form, her nerves seem
+unstrung, and the rays of soul gleam vague and troubled through the
+expanded pupils of her blue eyes; it were indeed hard to divine whether
+plaint or prayer would breathe through the half-open lips. As she passes
+on before the shrines and chapels she lifts her hand, as if intending to
+make the sign of the cross, but she seems without energy to complete the
+symbols, and they fall broken and half formed in the air. Inclining her
+head before the Mother of God, she bends as if about to kneel, but, her
+strength evidently failing her, she moves tremblingly on toward the
+sanctuary, and the Great Altar in its gloomy depths looms before her
+like a sepulchre.
+
+There, encircled by relations and friends, with pride and pleasure
+beaming from his aged eyes, her father awaits her; and well may he be
+proud, for never had God given to declining years a lovelier child. She
+shines upon the sunset of his life with the growing lustre of the
+evening star, and never has its light beamed dim upon him until this
+very hour. He will not, however, think of this momentary eclipse now,
+for this same hour will see the fulfilment of his brightest dreams. In
+his joy and pride he exclaims to the friends around him: 'Look on my
+child; how young, pure, and innocent she is--trembling in the ignorance
+of her approaching happiness!' Then he gazes wistfully, far as his eye
+can reach, down the long aisles of the church, to ascertain if the
+bridegroom yet appears, and, seeing him not, his gray eyebrows fall, and
+settle into a frown.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But peace soon again smoothes his broad forehead. Alas! the illusions of
+the old stand round their petrifying souls like statues of granite; no
+earthly power avails to strike them down, and death alone can break
+them. The young see their dreams floating in the air, while shifting
+rainbows play above them as they rise and melt upon the view. But the
+hopes of the old grow hard and stony as they near the grave; their
+_desires_ assume the form of _realities_. The harsh rock of bygone
+experience stands between them and the truths of the present. Seating
+themselves immovably upon it, the surging life-stream hurtles on far
+below, bearing them not forward on its hurrying flow. Withered garlands
+and the ashes of once fiery hearts drift on; shattered wrecks, with torn
+sails and broken masts, driven and tossed by eternal whirlwinds, appear
+and vanish in the river's rush; but the old remain motionless above. The
+hot rain of stars forever falling there dies out with dull moan, while
+the glad waves and white foam laugh as the ruined wrecks toss helplessly
+in the strong winds; but the aged heed it not: they have grown into one
+with the rock of the past, they build air castles over the roaring
+depths, they look upon the waves, as they surge into each other, as
+stable altars of peace and happiness. They command their sons and
+daughters to vow faith in the light of the past, but ere the oath is
+fully spoken, the altar is under other skies, encircled by other
+horizons!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Surrounded by friends in gay attire, the bridegroom, full of life and
+vigor, rushes into the church. He wears a national dress, _but his
+nation is not that of the old man_. The crowd disperse from right to
+left as he passes on, greeting him with lowly bows: scarcely deigning to
+return the courtesy, he clatters up the aisle with rapid stride, and
+stands by the side of the kneeling bride. He places his lips to the ear
+of the old man, and whispers to him; they converse in low tones, the old
+man with an air of regal authority, the young one gesturing rapidly with
+his hands.
+
+The bishops now slowly approach, the tapers are lighted upon the altar,
+a solemn silence falls upon the holy temple, two hands, two souls are to
+be united forever! A shiver of awe thrills through the assembly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The beams of the setting sun pour in through the stained panes of the
+windows their lines of crimson light, as if streams of blood were
+flowing through the church. Deepening in the approaching twilight, they
+fall in their dying splendor on the brow of a man who stands alone in
+one of the side chapels. The figure of a dead hero extended upon a
+monument lies near him, as, immovable as the statue itself, he stands
+with his gaze riveted upon the altar whence the bishop addresses the
+bride. The crimson light falling full upon him betrays the secrets of
+his soul, his noble brow tells of fierce struggle within, but neither
+prayer, sigh, nor groan escapes him. His lips are closely pressed
+together, while suppressed anguish writhes them into a stern smile--but
+the streams of ruby light which had shone on his face for the moment,
+fade in the twilight, and he is lost in the gloom of the deepening
+shadows.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But when the vows were all spoken, the ceremonies over, when the
+bridegroom raised up the bride, and she fell into the arms of her
+father, when he bore her onward to the gates of the church, with
+thousands of tapers following after, when the crowd dispersed, and the
+sounds of the footsteps were dying away in the distance, and the
+cathedral grew still as the grave, holding only the dead and the few
+half-living monks moving darkly in its depths--the man on whom had shone
+the crimson light leaves the chapel, comes up the aisle, strikes his
+breast, and falls forward on the steps of the altar, rises suddenly, and
+again falls, then seats himself, while the lights from behind the great
+crucifix of silver shine down solemnly upon him. His face is turned away
+from the holy things of the sanctuary; his eyes gaze afar, past the
+gates through which the bride had vanished. He sees the blue night-sky,
+and a single star sparkling upon it, and as he looks upon the star, he
+takes a sword from under his cloak, draws the steel from the scabbard,
+and, still gazing upon the star, sharpens it on his whetstone. Thus,
+with widely opened eye, yet seeing, hearing nothing, the somnambulist,
+wrapped in deep, magnetic sleep, strides on in the moonlight, possessed
+by a power of which he is not conscious, which may stain his hands with
+blood, or hold him back from the verge of an abyss. Passion drinks its
+glow from the rays of the sun; it may lead us safely, or drive us far
+astray!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A monk approaches the man kneeling before the high altar, and says:
+
+'Brother, whosoever thou mayst be, go to rest, and do not disturb the
+peace of the Lord.'
+
+The man answers nothing. Another draws near him, saying:
+
+'Away from the church; be not guilty of sacrilege!'
+
+The man makes no reply. A third monk stands beside him and says:
+
+'I excommunicate thee, and the steel which thou darest to draw at the
+very foot of the cross.'
+
+The culprit then rises, and replies:
+
+'I waited for these words, that the stroke might be certain, and the
+blow mortal.'
+
+He leaves the church slowly--slowly, as if counting his own footfalls,
+knowing them to be his last on earth!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Meanwhile the night falls so softly, the skies hang so transparently
+above, the air is so tranquil, that the soul trembles with delight, and
+the heart unconsciously forebodes happiness. The stars peer up above the
+mountains, like the eyes of angels flashing through the blue spaces of
+the heavens. Swathed in her bands of darkness, and breathing up to them
+the perfume of her flowers and the sighs of her lovers, the earth seems
+grateful to them for their golden glances. A fitting night, surely, for
+a bridal so illustrious as the one we have just seen; a long spring will
+bloom from it upon the aged father. What more could he ask for his
+children? His new son in high favor with the emperor, lord of lands and
+serfs; his daughter, good and beautiful as an angel, goes not
+portionless into the house of her husband, but is the sole heiress of
+immense estates. What maiden would not envy her; what youth not wish to
+take his place? And the thoughts of the old man run pleasantly on: he
+thinks how happily his days will flow, blessed with the smiles of his
+daughter, and surrounded by the splendor of his son. He already sees the
+little grandchildren springing up before him; flowers blooming along the
+pathway leading to his grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A splendid festival is to take place in his castle; few princes would
+be able to give such an entertainment. The grounds are illumined as if
+it were day, barrels of pitch are everywhere burning, torches are
+blazing high upon his walls, windows and doors are thrown open, harps
+sound and trumpets thunder, mazourkas swell upon the ear, and the gay
+groups twine, twist, reel, half mad with joyous excitement. The old man
+strays through the lighted halls, and converses with his guests. Tears
+tremble in his eyes. Ah, many tears had gathered there in the troubled
+days of his life, through its hours of sweat and blood, but they are all
+passing now into these drops of gratitude to God who has brought him to
+this happy time in which past sorrows are all to be forgotten. Moving
+out upon his wide porticos, he pours coins from dishes of silver to the
+people below. Returning, he places clusters of diamonds on the young
+bosoms of the bridesmaids. Servants follow his footsteps, bending under
+the wealth they bear, handing to him glittering swords and golden
+chains, ostrich plumes, and Turkish scymitars, which, in memory of the
+day, he distributes among his guests. Sometimes he stops to take a
+chalice from the hands of a page, and wets his lips with Tokay, greeting
+his guests as he moves courteously on, wishing to warm all with the
+sunshine of his own happiness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He enters now the central dome of the castle, lined with exotic trees
+and perfumed plants; the vaulted roof is corniced with wrought marble,
+emblazoned with escutcheons of his ancestors, unsullied, glorious, holy!
+Stopping at the entrance, he looks for his child: she is not among the
+dancers, nor in the throngs of the spectators. The bridegroom is indeed
+there, amusing himself with the various beauties present; and, for the
+second time in this happy day, the forehead of the old man lowers in
+grief or anger. He makes his way through the crowd, passes on through
+the orange trees, in the niches between which stand the now deserted
+seats rich in broidered tapestry. He lingers among them seeking his
+child, when he suddenly stops as if stricken with fierce pain. He has
+found her now; she is sitting quite alone, gazing sadly on a bunch of
+roses lying on her knee: dreamily she picks off the perfumed leaves,
+until the bare stems and thorns alone remain in her fragile hands. The
+old man silently approaches her. Suppressing his emotion, he says, with
+gentle voice:
+
+'How happy thy poor mother would have been to-day, my daughter! Ah, why
+was it not the will of God she should have blessed this bridal hour!'
+
+She raises her head, crushing the remains of the roses in her trembling
+hands, and in her confusion tries to fasten them on the hem of her
+dress: the sharp little stems plant themselves there, but stain its snow
+with the blood they had torn from the unconscious fingers.
+
+'Why weepest thou, my child? It cannot surely be the memory of thy
+mother which so moves thee: thou hast never seen her--she went to the
+fathers in the very hour in which thou camest to me. Look, daughter,
+thou woundest thyself!'
+
+He takes her hand in his, and softly draws from it the sharp thorns.
+
+'O father, it is not that which pains me! Forgive me--it is that--only
+that, my father.'
+
+She stands silently before him--great tears were falling slowly down her
+cheeks. He leans heavily upon her arm:
+
+'Thou must support me now, child, for I grow old and frail, my knees
+tremble under me; be thou my stay!'
+
+He walks on thoughtfully with her, trying to speak, but saying nothing,
+while around them float the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music
+swells upon the air.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As they move on, the great clock of the castle strikes the hour. It is
+fastened to the moulding high on the wall; over it sits an ancient
+monarch in bronze, a ruler of many kingdoms, and at each stroke the
+statue of a palatine sallies forth, bows to the king of bronze, and
+again disappears within the opening wall--twelve strokes toll as they
+pass, and twelve palatines appear, make obeisance, and vanish. Hark!
+from the distant chambers sound the choir of female voices; vague and
+dreamy the notes begin, but at each return they grow clearer and more
+defined. They are gliding on from hall to hall, ever drawing nearer and
+ever calling more loudly upon the bride. The old man trembles; the pale
+girl falls into his arms. But soon recovering, she flies on from passage
+to passage, from room to room, from gallery to gallery, from vault to
+vault, everywhere pursued by the choir of bridesmaids, dragging the old
+man with her, not able to utter a single word--while around them breathe
+the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music swells upon the air.
+
+At last they stop in the chapel of the castle, where the ancestors rest
+in their coffins of stone. A few tapers burn around, and black draperies
+broidered with silver flow closely round the tombs. She, the youngest
+and last of the proud House, falls upon the grave of her mother,
+shudders, but speaks not. The old man says to the trembling girl:
+
+'Daughter, God did not vouchsafe to give me a male descendant to prolong
+the power of our race; He blessed me only with a maiden; but thy husband
+has sworn to take thy name, and thy children will bear the name of our
+fathers. Honor, then, the favor with which God has crowned thee. No lady
+in the land is thy equal, heiress as thou art of glory, treasures, and
+estates--it is thy duty to be obedient and faithful to thy husband until
+death.'
+
+He speaks to her in soft, low tones; slowly, as if he sought with each
+word to touch the heart of the silent child. She answers not, but lower
+and lower droops the fair young head, until her pale face is buried in
+her white hands, and the bridal wreath and veil fall from her brow upon
+the grave of her mother. A low groan bursts from the heart of the old
+man as he cries:
+
+'Daughter, dost thou hear? they approach to bear thee from the breast on
+which thou hast rested from thy very birth; to take thee from the arms
+of the old man who has so loved thee! Look up, look into my face; thou
+art another's now--take leave of me--say, 'Father, I am happy!''
+
+More and more closely she presses her hands to her face--and remains
+gloomily silent.
+
+'Child, dost thou really wish to lay me here among the dead? Dost thou
+desire me to rise no more on earth forever? Ah, the love in thy blue
+eyes has been my solace through my many life-storms. Thou art my single
+pearl, and I have given thee to the hands of the stranger, that thy
+brilliancy may remain unclouded, that it may ever glitter in its full
+splendor. What is the matter with thee? Speak, child, even if it be to
+complain, to tell me thou art wretched.'
+
+Grasping the white marble of the grave with both hands for support, with
+gasping breath he awaits her answer. The vengeful sword of remorse is
+already in his soul; one groan, one spasm of anguish from the innocent
+victim would break his heart. Raising her heavy eyelids, his child seems
+to trace an expression of pity on his face, and for a moment dreams that
+hope is not yet past. Kneeling on the marble of the grave, and turning
+her young face, so sweet in its appealing anguish, full upon him, a
+_name_ forces itself through her quivering lips--a sudden shivering
+shakes the frame of the old man, throwing him off from the grave of his
+young wife.
+
+'What name hast thou uttered? It must never be repeated--never! No; it
+were impossible. Tell me I have not heard thee aright; let it rest in
+eternal oblivion! Thou canst not dream of that ungrateful exile,
+conspiring against me because I prepared for him a brilliant future--the
+son of my brother joining with my enemies to compass my ruin! If them
+regrettest him, if thou hast a single lurking hope that I will ever
+permit thee to see that banished rebel, to clasp his hand in even common
+friendship, may the eternal curses of God rest upon you both!'
+
+A voiceless victim offered up upon the altar of the vengeful gods, the
+maiden has as yet suffered in silence, but rising now in solemn dignity,
+in a cold, firm, resolute tone, she says:
+
+'I love him, father.'
+
+The old man cannot bear these chill and fatal words. His brain reels,
+his hopes die, he falls at the foot of the grave, his soul rests for the
+moment with the ghosts of his ancestors. When he awakes to
+consciousness, the pale face of his child is bending tenderly over him,
+her caresses call him back to life. Hark! again he hears the sounding
+strophes of the wedding song; the chanting maidens cross the threshold;
+slowly singing, they surround the bride with snowy circle; nearer and
+nearer they cluster round her--she throws herself for refuge in the old
+man's arms!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The maidens now clasp, embrace the trembling bride, take her from her
+father's arms, and bear her on with them. They strew flowers in her
+path, burn incense around her, as they chant in ever-renewed chorals the
+dawning of a new and happy life, full of honor and blessing. The old man
+solemnly follows the choir until they reach the great stairway leading
+to the bridal chamber: there he bids them stop, and, making the sign of
+the cross, for the last time blesses the half-swooning girl.
+
+He stands for a moment wrapt in thought, then wends his way to the hall
+of feasting. Recovering his presence of mind, he flings aside the truth
+just forced upon him, as if it were all a dream; he commands it not to
+be; he almost persuades himself to believe it has never been! Greeting
+his guests anew, his air is calm and regal.
+
+The bridegroom, turning to his friends, exclaims:
+
+'Companions in arms, with whom I have spent so many joyous hours in camp
+and hall, I dedicate to you the hours of this my wedding night; nor will
+I seek my bride until the flush of dawn is in the sky. What hour do the
+heavens tell?'
+
+One of the revellers rises, draws back the curtain from the window, and
+says:
+
+'It is just past midnight; the moon rides high in the sky.'
+
+'Then am I still yours,' exclaims the youth, 'and again I pledge you in
+the rosy wine.' As he speaks he fills the cup of gold studded with
+diamonds, swallows the contents, and passes it to the nearest guest. But
+the heavy palm of the castle's lord rests upon his shoulder. Seizing
+another brimming cup, he says: 'I drain this to thy health, father, and
+our guests will surely pledge it with me.'
+
+The lord of the castle thanks him not; he points to the open door,
+through which may be seen, as they wind along the distant galleries and
+archways, the retreating forms of the now silent bridesmaids. Shaking
+his blonde curls, the youth answers:
+
+'These brave men have always served me faithfully; I have sworn to
+consecrate this night to them; we drink and feast together until Aurora
+leads the dawn.' Seizing the hands of those nearest to him, he resumes:
+'Companions, for this sacrifice swear to pursue, to hunt to death, as I
+shall command, the vile mob of rebels and traitors who infest these
+mountains.'
+
+They give the pledge, while _vivats_ fill the hall. 'Long live our
+prince!' The face of the proud old man glimmers with a bluish rage, but
+the loud plaudits, the outstretched arms, the dazzling, naked swords,
+the wild, warlike enthusiasm bewilder his brain, while pride and hate,
+splendor and power, tempting and blinding his soul, veil in fleeting
+glitter the broken form of the lonely, weeping, wretched child. He is
+carried away in the excitement of the hour, and the loud voice which had
+once thundered in the battles of _his own_ unhappy land, joins in the
+cry: 'Death to the rebels!' Deigning not, however, to remain longer with
+the guests, he sternly beckons to his attendants. They file in order
+before him with lighted torches. The youth rises, leaves his friends for
+an instant, and accompanies to the door of the saloon the old man, who
+takes leave of him with an air of aversion, while the youth returns to
+his friends:
+
+'By my good sword!' he exclaims, 'I will brook no control. I wedded a
+fair girl, not chains nor fetters. Let the dim moon light the solving of
+love's riddle for older maidens; my bride is young and lovely enough to
+bear the growing light of dawn.'
+
+Then taking aim with his Greek knife at the golden boss on the opposite
+wall, he strikes it in the centre; the guests follow, aim, and knives
+fly through the air, but none strike the centre of the target except
+himself. Full cups are poured to pledge their glorious chief. The flush
+of gratified vanity blooms in his young cheek, he caresses his mustache
+and plays with his blonde hair, he jokes with his guests; his jests are
+keen, light, witty, piercing like the sting of a wasp, and loud
+applauses greet his eager ear. Gliding over the surface of life, knowing
+nothing of its depths, he floats gracefully through its shallows. His
+blood, quickened by praise, flushes his face, his eye sparkles, his
+features play, but his heart is empty, his soul void, his intellect
+without expansion; he is as vain, weak, and selfish as an old coquette.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+In their naive songs, our people long remembered the valley in which the
+chieftain parted from his comrades. Our fathers called it the Valley of
+Farewells; our children so will call it should our songs endure through
+another generation--should not our language, with ourselves, be
+extinguished forever!
+
+In a valley circled by three hills of gentle slope, whose feet bathe in
+the same stream, but whose tops are widely severed, stands the man who
+but an hour before had borne the ban of excommunication from the altar
+of God. Male figures, clad in black from head to foot, with pallid
+faces, and the flash of steel glittering in the moonlight, seem to have
+been awaiting his appearance, for when they perceive him, the reclining
+rise to their feet, the standing descend to the borders of the stream,
+banners are unfurled in the summer's night, but no huzzas break the
+silence. Seating himself upon a rock on the banks of the stream, he is
+himself the first to speak, his voice chiming time with the murmur of
+the waters, as the tones of the singer with the sounding harpstrings.
+His words, though low, reach the hearts of his companions:
+
+'Soldiers! for some time past I have been your leader, and I am sure you
+will not forget me. Treasure in your memories the last words I shall
+ever address to you, for in them is the old truth, firm as these rocks,
+holy as these stars. Our fathers owned this country for thousands of
+years; during all that time, exile, injustice, oppression were utterly
+unknown. Its children were numberless as the grains of wheat upon its
+plains, as the trees in its interminable forests, and the neighboring
+nations gathered for shelter under the shadow of their clustering
+sabres. What the ear now never hears, what the eye never sees, but what
+the soul of the brave never ceases to love, was their proud
+inheritance--FREEDOM! Then came, with his throngs of slaves, the King
+of the South.[A] At first he spake with guileful gentleness, pouring out
+treacherous treasures of gold before us. Differing from us in faith and
+language, he strove to unite what God had severed, and when affairs
+moved not in accordance with his wishes, he tried to force himself upon
+us with fire and sword. Shame to the dwellers in cities and the lords of
+the valleys! fearing to face the dangers and hardships of life in the
+caves of the mountains, the wilds of the forests, they submitted to the
+usurper. But you have buried yourself in them as in graves, therefore
+the day of resurrection will dawn upon you. Already I see the signs of a
+brighter future. Has not the king's own residence been fired and
+consumed? Have we not heard the screams of joy of the vultures over the
+dead bodies of his minions, while the wolves howled in chorus the long
+night through? If you would regain the inheritance of our fathers, your
+labor must be long, your best blood flow. Especially now, when from
+wandering exiles you have grown into threatening heroes, will the king
+strive to deceive you by glittering baits: but beware of the tempters;
+their promises are mountains of gold, their performances handfuls of
+mud. Look up! There is room enough in these blue skies for brave souls!
+Regret not the earth, even should you fall in battle. Even on the other
+side of the grave may the face of God be forever dark to him who
+consents to lay down his arms while his country is in bondage!
+
+[Footnote A: Russia]
+
+'Go not down into the plains to secure the golden grain; your guardian
+angel dwells in the mountains--the time is coming when you shall reap a
+full harvest of spoils. Hearken always to the voices of the Seven who
+appointed me your leader. Their arms are weary with age and heavy work,
+but wisdom reigns supreme over the ruins of their wornout bodies. Obey
+them. When they call upon you, defend them to the last; whom they shall
+appoint chief, follow in dauntless courage; conquer with him, as you
+have always conquered with me! Soldiers, another fate demands me now. No
+morrow dawns for me upon this earth. Brothers, I bid you farewell
+forever!'
+
+The summer moon shines brightly down upon the little band of heroes.
+They start to their feet, and, gliding silently from every direction,
+they assemble round their chief, twining about him in a gloomy circle.
+
+'Where art thou going, our brave chieftain?'
+
+Stretching out his arm, he points toward the flame which still throws a
+pale light over the plain.
+
+'Stay! It is the flame of the wedding festival glaring from the halls of
+thy ancestors. We will not suffer thee to go to those who would take thy
+life; to the maiden who has betrayed thee!'
+
+He starts suddenly from the rock; his shrill cry pierces the hearts of
+the warriors:
+
+'Malign her not with falsehood! She has not betrayed me. This very night
+she will be mine. We will rest together in the long sleep of eternity.
+Comrades, I have consecrated to you the house and riches of my fathers;
+life and bliss with the woman I love I have sacrificed on the altar of
+my country; but death with her I cannot relinquish--the moment is
+near--no time is to be lost--I go. Farewell!'
+
+He passes hurriedly through them; the long folds of his cloak, the locks
+of his hair, the plumes of his cap, stream wildly on the breeze. Cries
+rise on the midnight air; they kneel before him, they circle round him,
+they stand a living wall before him, they entreat him to stop, they
+threaten to storm the castle, to take it before the dawn of day, to
+seize the bride, and bear her safely to his arms.
+
+He stays his hurrying footsteps, and the eager men fall into respectful
+silence. His voice is heard, sounding sweet indeed, but firm and deep as
+they have often heard it in the midst of battle-smoke and thunder:
+
+'I thank you from my heart; my brothers. But it cannot be! The clashing
+of our sabres must not wake the old man sleeping in the chambers of my
+forefathers. I grew up under the shadow of his hand. He first taught my
+lips to utter the holy word which names the land of our fathers; he
+planted in my soul the thirst for glory. Before our holy banners float
+again from the walls of his castle, I must sleep in death! Fate has
+inexorably decreed it. Once more, farewell!'
+
+He moves rapidly on, muttering to himself: 'What the priest of God has
+bound, man may not untie--it must be _cut_ asunder!' Unconsciously
+drawing his sword, he raises it in the air, the glittering blade
+flashing like a meteor in the rays of the summer moon.
+
+In silence and with drooping heads the soldiers follow--they know that
+what he says will surely come to pass. Predictions of his approaching
+doom had long been current among them; he had himself warned them the
+hour of separation was near. Not by the sword of the near enemy, nor by
+the arrow of the distant one, was he fore-doomed to fall. Not slowly was
+he to fade away upon a bed of mortal sickness: his own dreams and
+foreign magic had announced to him another doom! The conspirators move
+silently and solemnly on behind him, as if following a corpse. He
+already seems to them a spirit. But when he commenced the ascent of the
+hill, the long plumes of his cap streaming through rocks and trees,
+appearing and disappearing as he clambers up, they rush into pursuit.
+Separated only by mossy banks and rocky terraces, they seek the same
+hilltop. He reaches it the first. Before him flashes upon his eyes a
+full view of the illuminated castle with its towers and battlemented
+turrets; at his feet lies the abyss, thundering with the roar of falling
+waters. An enormous pine has fallen over and bridges the chasm. His men
+are close upon him; again they try to surround him; pushing off the
+nearest, he leaps upon the trunk of the gigantic pine, crawls forward
+upon it, hangs for a moment over the abyss, reaches the other side,
+descends with marvellous agility, plants himself firmly on the ground,
+with feverish strength tears out the trunk from the rocks which had held
+it fast; it trembles for a moment as if swung in a balance; he urges,
+hurls it on, and at last it falls, crushing and shivering as it strikes
+heavily against the steep sides of the rocky chasm. The soldiers feel as
+if dazzled by a sudden flash of lightning, and when the glare passes, it
+is too late! In the light of the moon they see for the last time his
+broad brow in the full beauty of life--then the abyss separates them
+forever. Holding his hands out, suspended above the chasm, as if with
+his last breath he would bless his people, he cries:
+
+'In the name of God, heroes, eternal struggle between you and the King
+of the South!'
+
+The rocks echo the full tones of the manly voice, and the depths of the
+valley repeat it. His tall form disappears among the shadows of the
+pines. The conspirators listen as if hoping to catch one word more. No
+sound greets them save the sighing of the trees, the dash of the
+waters--the manly tones of their young hero they will hear no more
+forever!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Unfortunate! the glare of madness gleams in thine eyes. While thou wert
+exposed to the gaze of thy brothers thou struggledst to control thyself,
+because thou wouldst not their last memory of thee should be clouded;
+but now thou art alone, thou throwest off restraint, and, driven on by
+vengeance, hurriest forward. Thou startlest the owl as thou scalest the
+rocks; she flaps her wing, and gazes on thee with round eyes of wonder;
+the fox, baying in the moonlight, steals into the gloom; the wolves
+howl in the ravine as thou rushest through--thou hearest not their
+cries, they fly before the wild splendor of thine eyes! Thou readiest
+the plain. Corpse-lights from the swamps flit on with thee; wildly
+laughing, thou criest: 'Race on with me, friends!' They dance round thy
+cap, and bathe thy breast with streams of pale, blue light; then, joined
+in brotherly embrace, for a moment ye speed together on; but the
+grave-lights are the first to die; then, a solitary shadow, thou
+flittest darkly over the meadows, and approachest the castle of thine
+ancestors.
+
+It shines with innumerable lights. The terraced gardens with their walks
+and perfumed shrubs lie so silently in the bright moonlight, they seem
+dreaming of the bridal bliss, the echo of the wedding music cradling
+them to sweeter sleep. The flying footsteps of the chieftain are
+suddenly arrested--he thinks he hears the opening chant of the
+bridesmaids' song, though so distant it seems rather dream than reality.
+He listens. He knows the ancient custom; he certainly hears the chorused
+strophes, the fresh, clear female voices, He rushes forward now, he
+buries his nails in the fissures of the walls, he clambers up,
+suspending himself in the air, his feet cling to the moss-grown stones,
+he seizes a vine, swings himself forward, gains the top of the wall, and
+the crushed grasses groan as he leaps down upon them. Having touched the
+earth within the enclosure, he rises up with triple power, and bounds
+into the leafy labyrinth. Oaks, ashes, pines, and firs, the remains of
+the great forest, are around him. Thickets, vineyards, and meadows lie
+in the moonlight, brooks and fountains murmur, nightingales sing; he
+reaches the trailing willows where the long branches droop into the blue
+waters of the lake, from whose depths the stars of heaven smile upon
+him. He had played under these trees as a happy boy, swum in these clear
+waves--but the memories of the past must not detain him now. He reaches
+the bower where the jessamines bloom at the foot of the lower terrace.
+This was the spot in which the maiden had revealed her soul to her
+exiled brother; here had her holy promise kindled her blue eyes, and the
+high resolve of its keeping rested on her pure brow;--he groans aloud,
+but stops not, keeping his face steadily turned to the gray wall of the
+castle. Certain of his course, whether in light or shadow, he still
+hurries on. Winding among orange trees and fountains, he enters the
+vaulted archway which leads to the castle. Ascending with every step, he
+stands at last upon a level with its pillared portico. Taking the long
+plume from his cap, he glides from beneath the vault of the archway. No
+one is near. Songs and shouts are on his left; there then must be the
+hall of festival. Silence reigns on his right, and the long ranges of
+windows glitter only with the light of the moon. At the end of the long
+gallery and near the angle of the western tower, lamps are still
+burning; a wide glass door stands partly open--it seems to him he hears
+a low moan, but so light, so inaudible, it is caught through the
+divining of the soul rather than by the hearing of the ear. But he has
+heard it. Leaving the shadow of the vaulted passage, he emerges into the
+light, like one rising from the dead; imploring his steps not to betray
+him, and supporting himself on balustrades and pillars, he glides on. As
+he approaches the half-open door, he sees the long veils of the windows
+floating like snow-wreaths in the air; behind these thin curtains he
+feels that Life and Death, hand clasped in hand, await him. He falters,
+stops, presses his hand on his heart, but his fingers encounter the cold
+steel of his sword; he grasps it firmly, approaches, leans his forehead
+on the panes of the wide gothic door--strange that the throbbing brain
+burst not its narrow bounds!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He sees nothing at first but fiery sparks and black spots from the
+seething of his heated brain. The long muslin draperies are sometimes
+lifted by the wind, and again close their veils of mist; the silver lamp
+flashes on his eyes for a moment, and again vanishes from his view; but,
+as his sight grows clearer, the great mirror with its frame of gold
+stands before him--necklaces, bracelets, and chains flash from the
+toilet before it. He trembles no longer, he ceases to make the sign of
+the cross, he sees distinctly now--under the floating flow of purple
+drapery the bride is sitting on the bed alone. The flowers thrown over
+her by the choir of singing bridesmaids still cluster on her hair and
+breast; her little feet are almost buried in the fallen rose leaves. She
+sighs as if utterly unconscious of herself, thoughtless of the pain she
+suffers--as if her life were only anguish! The flowers droop from her
+bosom and glide to the ground; and, as the violets, myrtles, and lilies
+fall over her dress of snow, the great tears roll slowly down her pallid
+cheeks with every deep-drawn sigh.
+
+The door creaks on its hinges, her arms are thrown up involuntarily, her
+neck is outstretched, like that of a frightened deer startled by the
+baying of the hounds. She listens, waits, hears something move, starts
+up, and flies into the depths of the chamber, seizes the floating
+curtains, wraps herself in the folds, unwinds them from about her, flies
+on, turns, starts, stops, then suddenly falling on her knees, cries
+aloud: 'THOU!' Her last hope is in that word, but all strength fails her
+now, and she stands fixed to the spot with rigid face and form of
+marble. Steps and voices, which had been heard a moment before, die away
+in the distance. He whom she had so passionately invoked stands before
+her; he presses her not to his heart, but she hears the whisper: 'I AM
+HERE!'
+
+She blooms into new life, and with a melancholy smile of wondrous
+sweetness, murmurs:
+
+'I knew, I knew thou wouldst be with me in this solemn hour. Dost thou
+curse me in thy heart? But hear me: no one approaches, we are alone, I
+may yet have time to tell thee all. When they led me to the church, I
+sought thee everywhere; when I kneeled before the altar, I could only
+seek thee with my soul, my eyes were too dim with tears for sight; and
+when, on my return to the castle--they felicitated me, I listened for
+thy voice to thunder o'er them all! And even here, where each moment was
+freighted with coming shame and anguish, my faith never left me. I sat
+in utter torpor, but my soul saw thee in thy flight across the distant
+hills, my heart felt thee as thou camest through the gardens and up the
+terraced way. What I divined is true, Give me thy hand--I am saved!
+saved!'
+
+Gracefully as the light sprays of the willow, she sways toward him, and
+trustfully leans on his strong arm.
+
+Who has ever felt in dreams his soul torn from hell, and borne by angels
+into heaven? Who has ever known what it was to be God's own child for a
+fleeting moment--felt the lightning flash of heaven-bliss gleam through
+his heart? He had expected to meet one faithless to her vows; but as the
+voice of simple truth and love thrills through his innermost being, he
+grows omnipotent, immortal. His youth only begins from this hour! it
+soars aloft--one wing is love, the other glory; his ashes shall be
+worthy to mingle with those of his fathers! He will return to his
+deserted comrades, and she, the beloved, will follow him, for does not
+she, now clinging in holy trust to his arm, seem willing to give into
+his hands the whole web of her future destiny? Its threads shall be of
+gold, and the sun of love shall shine ever upon it. Weave the brilliant
+mist in glittering woof, O glowing imagination of youth I Beautiful
+cloud-dreams, which the setting sun of life paints and flushes with his
+dying rays!
+
+But suddenly awaking from his fevered visions, he cries: 'Why hast thou
+set this ring on thy finger? Would it not have been far better to have
+sought refuge in the mountains, than to have bound thyself to another by
+the holy sacrament of marriage? Yet will I save thee, for my comrades
+are brave and obedient, and I am their leader!'
+
+'O God! thou questionest me about the Past, when not a single hour of
+the Present is our own! Dost thou still doubt me? Dost thou not
+comprehend me? I have plighted my troth to thee in truth, have sworn
+that thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. I will keep my
+vow. Thou doubtest me, and must hear all. Interrupt me not. Unsheathe
+thy sword; if they approach, I will throw myself into thy arms. When the
+time came to tell my father all, to bid him the last good by, he begged
+me sore, entreated me with many tears. Thou knowest with what a stern
+voice he is wont to command, how instantaneously he is accustomed to be
+obeyed; but he veiled the thunders of his wrath with tears, he sighed
+and wailed, saying that his only child was armed to strike him to the
+heart, to thrust him into the grave. The prince, the son-in-law of his
+choice, promised to take our name; he brought his serfs and retainers in
+crowds to the castle, and said to the old man: 'Lo, they shall all be
+thine!' Kneeling before me, my father placed my hand upon his silver
+hair; I felt the blood bounding and throbbing in his bare temples, and
+on his grand old forehead lay the dream of his whole life gasping in its
+death agonies. The cruel phantom of dominion and power, hateful to me,
+clutched me through the heart of the only parent I have ever known. His
+life or death was in my hands. A divine power swayed my soul; I resolved
+upon self-sacrifice. Consent quivered from my shrinking lips--I gave my
+trembling hand to the unknown, unloved, insupportable. Alas! all are
+alike abhorrent to me who speak not with thy voice, look not with thy
+eyes, breathe not with thy breath, love not with thy soul! The lord of
+the castle has now a son in place of his slight girl, and thousands of
+warriors stand ready to defend the old Home of our haughty race. Thus am
+I free, now may I take leave of all. Again I pledge to thee my faith;
+thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. But this people, this
+God, this plighted faith--knowest thou by what name it is called
+to-day?'
+
+The chieftain throws his arm round her slight form, and looking
+anxiously toward the gallery, says: 'Speak and tell me while it is yet
+time.'
+
+With low, reproachful tone, she answers: 'Can it be possible that thou
+dost not know? And yet there is no room for doubt--it is DEATH! So long
+as I remain on earth, I am the wife of the foreigner. Thou canst regain
+me only in the land of spirits; but the way is short--look! it is only
+the length of thy sword!'
+
+The word 'wife' falls from the soft lips like a stone on the heart of
+the chief, awakening him from the last dream he will ever dream on this
+earth. Yes. His sword would protect her from the pursuit of father and
+husband, but he cannot save her from the condemnation of the church, its
+excommunication; for what the priest of God has bound, that man may not
+unloose! It grows cold and dark in his sinking heart. A single moment of
+happiness, alas, now forever past! has robbed him of strength, of hope;
+he shivers with awe; he sees the long skeleton finger of the pale
+Phantom of Terror touch the young heart of the faithful maiden. But
+_that_ will be impossible--he cannot take her life--he will fly, and
+fall on the morrow with his braves in battle--she shall live--the
+loveliest of human forms shall still remain on earth. He groans, and
+breaks away from her--the walls seem crumbling before him, breaking into
+tears of blood--he flies--but his sister overtakes him at the
+threshold.
+
+'Where dost thou fly, unfaithful? Didst thou not come to release me?
+Wouldst thou brand me with dishonor--with infamy and shame? Betray me
+not. O God! canst thou think of deserting me now! Listen! The foreigner
+is already on his way to sully with his hot and pestilential breath the
+purity of thy beloved. And what would be my future fate shouldst thou
+deliver me into the hands of mine enemy, to his hated embraces? He will
+force me to the court of the King of the South. I must there bear my
+part amid strange faces, surrounded by falsehood and pride, and learn to
+smile on those I loathe. He will lead me to the court that he may boast
+of my beauty, that he may show his king he has gathered the pale flower
+of the ancient House. And what will be the course of the king, what that
+of the prince, my husband? Look at the old, and learn! They curse in old
+age what they worshipped in youth; they love what they once scorned.
+What has thus transformed them? Time. Time, the murderer, who in his
+reckless culture plants fresh roses on the ruined wall, will draw and
+thicken the veil of delusion over my face until my true features shall
+be stifled behind it. I shall be utterly alone--alone forever! Thou wilt
+be afar, on the mountains, rocks, or in the deserts; temptation will
+surround me, and disgust possess my soul. Thou mayst be brought in
+chains to the land of the King of the South, thine enemies may name me
+there over their beaded cups of ruby wine, jeers and scandals may reach
+thine ears, and thou wilt curse thyself that thou didst not kill me!
+Thrust thy sword into my heart! Tear me from the grasp of the monster!'
+
+As if in sudden madness, she wildly stretches out her hands as if to
+push away the thronging phantoms which appal her.
+
+'Look! his forehead sparkles--a word is written there in blazing
+diamonds--read it--it is INFAMY! Hell glitters in his eyes; his writhing
+arms are hissing vipers; they crawl to me, they touch me, wind around
+me, bury their heads in my bosom, and poison as they drink my pure blood
+from the virginal cup of my heart!'
+
+She falls exhausted on the floor, washing his feet with her tears as her
+long tresses stream around them.
+
+He lifts her like a feather from the ground.
+
+'By the Holy Mother of our Lord, such fate shall not be thine! Like the
+flame of incense burning on the sacred altar, purest among the pure,
+thou shalt ascend to God!'
+
+His heart breaks, his manly features flicker and quiver like the mist;
+strange spasms distort them; he bows his head in anguish, and with every
+tear from her eyes mingle the bitter drops only shed by man.
+
+But this is over now. It was the last sign of weakness, hesitation,
+regret, wrung from him in his mortal agony. A solemn calm rests on his
+broad brow as he presses the maiden to his heart.
+
+'With this kiss of peace I consecrate thee to a holy death! He who first
+breathed upon thy young cheek, first touched thy rosy lip, who may not
+give thee his name in the sanctity of marriage, who cannot save thee
+from condemnation--will give thee DEATH! In this thought I sought thee,
+my sister; but when I found thee faithful, loving, a sudden dream of
+bliss deceived me. Lulled by lovely visions, the weak one yielded to
+unmanly hopes, unmanly fears! Forgive him, virgin hero! Temptation and
+fear have fled forever--we will die together--let us pray!'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'Let us pray! but thou must remain to lead thy people. Longing, but
+patient, I will await thee in Hades. Thou wilt often come to the spot in
+which they will bury me, to throw a plume from thy helmet, a ring from
+thy coat of mail upon the grassy mound. And the old grave-digger will
+say: '_He_ was here to-night; she is still remembered by the chieftain.'
+
+With pure, confiding glance she reads his soul; her eyes sparkle through
+the mist of tears, and a faint smile writhes her pale young lips. With
+iron grasp he holds her to his heart.
+
+'With my _soul_ I wed thy _soul_ before the Great White Throne of God,
+our Judge!'
+
+In softer, sadder tone, he adds: 'While in my power, I served our people
+with my whole might. I have raised our white eagle on the castles of our
+enemies. To morrow my comrades will pass these walls--ah! thou dost not
+know, had I lived another day, whose gray hairs might have been
+scattered in the coming whirlwind, or in whose courts I might have been
+forced to take my seat as avenger! We will go hence together, my sister.
+And where we go, the old men will not desert their country, the young
+men will not be forced to dishonor the gray hairs of those who first
+taught them the meaning of patriotism and honor; _there_ treason and
+oppression are unknown--there will be no _necessary vengeance_ in the
+Land of the Hereafter! Let us go, sister!'
+
+Transfigured by a sublime exultation, she throws herself into the arms
+of the chieftain; words and tears are no longer sufficient to thank him;
+but love has taught her how it may be done. Suddenly drawing from her
+finger the glittering ring of the enemy, she moves rapidly to the head
+of the bridal bed, and places it upon the rich embroidery of the laced
+pillows. Then returning to the chief, she presses his hand to her heart:
+
+'Earth is past, and Heaven begun. Thou art henceforth my lord and master
+forever!'
+
+She kneels at his side, and begins to recite the prayers for the dying.
+He kneels beside her, sometimes reciting with her, sometimes wrapt in
+solemn silence. After a few moments, he breaks upon her prayers:
+
+'The morning twilight is upon us.'
+
+As he speaks, the little birds awake; their matin song sounds from the
+well-known grove.
+
+'Lean on my arm, beloved; let us look once more upon the earth we leave
+so soon together!'
+
+She leans heavily upon his arm, and they stand on the threshold of the
+door opening upon the gallery.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The fading moon dies out beyond the mountains; her last rays fall upon
+the turf of the terraced gardens; long wreaths of mist and vapor rise in
+the air like bridal veils, floating and reddening in the early dawn. In
+this fatal moment the luring promises and lovely images of life stand
+before her. The murmurs of the lulling fountains fall upon her ear, then
+flash upon her eye; the shafts and groups of pillars of her ancestral
+home cluster around her, and the summer flowers greet her with their
+perfume. But death, not life, is in her heart. The pathway through the
+old forest whitens in the coming light, the grain waves in the open
+fields; beyond them, faintly flushing in the twilight, stand the
+mountain tops above which _his_ star of glory might have risen that very
+morn--and yet the whole horizon to him now is but the grave of eternal
+forgetfulness! He gazes far into the mountains, boldly sending his last
+greetings to the faithful there; while she, with drooping head, presses
+ever closer to him, asking from him now the look of love, now the thrust
+of death! In vain the gradual awaking of the world admonishes them more
+and more loudly that they have nothing more to do with time, that
+eternity is upon them--they linger still! Who may say what thoughts are
+thronging through their souls! More and more heavily she sinks upon the
+true heart of her brother, while the morning breeze plays with the long
+tresses of her golden hair.
+
+Hark! loud voices pledge a noisy health in one of the distant rooms--he
+shudders, but perhaps she hears no longer; heavy footsteps tramp along
+the gallery--the light of torches flickers in the morning breeze.
+
+'O God, thou wilt surely give the victory to my country!' cries the
+chieftain, as he carries the benumbed and half-lifeless form of the
+bride within the wedding chamber.
+
+The drunken companions of the long revel reel and totter along the
+galleries of the castle; the bridegroom hastens to his bride with the
+dawn of day.
+
+'Look!' she exclaims, stretching out her hands to the great mirror
+before which they stand, but in her bewilderment no longer recognizing
+her own figure there: 'Look! how beautiful my angel is!'
+
+'Ah, too beautiful!' the youth repeats, with a bitter groan; then,
+pressing her to his breast with one arm, from the other flashes the
+deadly gleam of glittering steel--and in that very moment the heavy
+footsteps of the light-minded, reckless bridegroom reach the threshold
+of the bridal chamber.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+The old man sits upon the ancient bed of state, in the room which had
+been occupied by his father before him, in which his grandfathers and
+great-grandfathers had lived and died. Careless of repose for his tired
+and aged body, he has not undressed, but motioning off his attendants
+with impatient gesture, ungirding his sabre, and throwing off the chain
+of gold to which the royal medal was attached, his head sinks weariedly
+and sadly upon the oaken table before him. Beyond the bedstead, a gothic
+archway vaults through the wall into his private chapel, the antique
+lamp of gold still burns upon its altar. He turns not there, as is his
+custom, to say his prayers before he goes to rest--he knows no sleep
+to-night will close his heavy eyelids. Raising his head, he looks slowly
+round at the pictures of his ancestors hung about him; with their fixed,
+immovable pupils they return his gaze; but when he would again run round
+the circle of the faces of the dead, his eyelids fall, his sight is
+veiled by swimming tears.
+
+Have you ever thought, young men, sons of the growing light and lovers
+of the storm, how it must be in the souls of the old when all their
+plans of life fail, when their _last_ loves on earth are blighted? Ah,
+you cannot imagine this, you have not yet tasted the bitter gall of age!
+Willing slaves, Time bears you forward on his mighty wings, cleaving
+space with arrowy, unceasing motion, and though the stars die out behind
+you as he bears you on, yet new ones ever burst upon you as you advance.
+
+'On! on! the infinite is before us!' you cry as you fly. _But the old
+have no to-morrows!_ the coffin lies across their threshold, and but one
+single star shines down upon them. They kneel to it, and pray: 'Thou art
+pure and steadfast. Thou fallest not like the meteor bursting in the
+warm summer sky, nor settest like the moon in the far-off lakes of
+youth. After our long and restless journey, we bask in thy serene light.
+Be faithful to us, shine benignly upon us, that our House may live, that
+our descendants may enjoy the earth!'
+
+But even while they pray, the _truth_ creeps into their courtyards,
+glides like a serpent on their castle walls, writhes over the threshold,
+and, seating herself upon a coffin, chants the death song of delusion,
+and as she sings, the last star falls from the sky, and eternal night
+becomes the name of the world.
+
+Behold! No glittering haze or golden woof remains in the hands of the
+old man from the dying glow of his long Indian summer. Hearken! his
+daughter's tears are falling fast on the burning embers of his soul. The
+laughter of the careless husband blasts his ear. He starts from the bed,
+stalking up and down the room with rapid strides. The snows of seventy
+winters have in vain blanched his head; he has been proud of his
+accumulated wisdom, but has not divined the secret of life! The
+whirlpool of terror, vengeance, vacillation, resolution, engulfs him in
+its giddy flow; his soul is on the wheel of torture, his old heart
+throbs on the rack of passion. He curses the King of the South--the
+prince, his son-in-law--himself; but his heart will not break until a
+new day dawns upon the earth!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Completely worn out at last with his restless striding to and fro, he
+falls into the old state chair with its broidered blazonry and gilt
+escutcheons. His arms hang loosely at his side, his legs fall listlessly
+down, his wide open eye is fixed unconsciously on the opposite wall; his
+lips are motionless, and yet the tones of his own voice are ringing
+through his ears; he lies in immovable and rigid torpor, and yet it
+seems to himself that he is rapidly traversing the long galleries of the
+castle. He enters the hall of feasting, sees the prince seated among the
+throng of revellers, to whom he hears himself cry: 'Away! away, prince,
+from an alien soil! My ancestors have risen from the grave to drive thee
+hence! Black hetman man, long since buried, strike the foaming cup from
+his reckless hands! Roman cardinal, dying in sanctity, pronounce upon
+him the thunders of excommunication, and let the church divorce him from
+the daughter of our line!'
+
+The great doors are thrown open, the muffled steps of the dead are heard
+as they advance from their graves in the Chapel of the Castle, and the
+spirits evoked glide solemnly in. The bridegroom, seizing his sword with
+one hand, and lifting the cup to his lips with the other, drinks gayly
+to the health of the illustrious dead! The old man looks round for a
+sword, strives to reach the bright blade hanging on the distant wall,
+prays to God to help him to grasp it more speedily, falls to the floor,
+drags himself forward on his knees until he meets the Roman cardinal,
+whose scarlet robes are bleached and dim with the damp, mould, and
+stains of the grave. The church dignitary, laying his icy hand upon his
+forehead, says:
+
+'_What the holy priest of God has joined together, that may man not put
+asunder!_'
+
+The dead vanish, the hall of festival is riven in twain, the walls
+crumble, he sees himself again in his own chamber, sleeping in the
+escutcheoned chair of his ancestors. Silence, horror, and remorse are
+around him--and at this moment the great clock of the palatines strikes
+two!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Horrible and still more horrible grows the vision. The lamp is still
+burning in bluish flame, sending a mystic light through the vaulted
+archway of the chapel beyond the state bed. 0 God! a white figure kneels
+and groans upon the steps of the altar, then, drawing back, approaches
+his chair; her bands are meekly crossed upon her breast; like the marble
+drapery of a statue, her robe falls in countless snowy folds, none of
+which are broken in the onward-gliding motion of the shrouded form. O
+God! he knows that lovely face, he has loved it well; it is the sweet
+countenance of his young wife: the lips open, but the voice is not as of
+old, tender and confiding; it is reproachful--commanding. He tries to
+answer, but cannot force a word through his eager lips; he cannot
+stretch forth his hand to greet her, but feels himself forced to follow
+her wheresoever she may choose to lead him. Down, down through the dark
+and narrow vaults of the castle, through the sepulchre where she was
+buried, passing by her own coffin without stopping, up through the old
+armory, through coats of mail, helmets, and swords, on--on--she reaches
+the western tower--passes through the treasury--ascends the
+staircase--bolts draw, and locked doors, like silent lips, open
+noiselessly before. She beckons the old man on--on, to the arched door,
+up to the loophole in the wall looking into the bridal chamber of the
+ladies of the castle--there the dead form stops, and beckons him to draw
+near and look within.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+O God! close by the wedding bed and before the great mirror, he sees his
+daughter in the arms of an armed man; he knows the flashing eye and
+broad brow of the exile; he hears her familiar voice, sweet, sonorous,
+and penetrating as the tones of the harmonica. A glittering blade is in
+the hand of the man; his daughter speaks in clear, full tones:
+
+'Strike! strike boldly! it is not thou who dealest the blow--my father
+has already killed me!' She rises to meet the stroke of the keen steel
+of the chieftain, as if she welcomed a deliverer. The old man tries to
+tear asunder the loophole with his hands, but the cold granite does not
+move--then it seems to him he falls upon his knees, and shouts to his
+kinsman:
+
+'Stop thy rash hand! I will give her to thee as wife. I will fight with
+thee the King of the South; do not kill her, my good daughter, my only
+child!'
+
+They hear him not; a darkish light is creeping along the walls, the
+lamps are dying out, loud talking is heard on the gallery, the
+half-drunken bridegroom comes leaping and reeling on, rushes into the
+chamber, suddenly seems transfixed to the floor, puts his hand to his
+sword, but not finding it at his side, looks back, calls aloud, but no
+one follows him. Horror, like living death, paralyzes the old man. The
+bridegroom throws himself upon the exile, who exclaims solemnly, as he
+thrusts him aside:
+
+'Why do you profane the peace of the dead?'
+
+Something glitters--flashes through the air--once--twice--thrice--a
+faint cry--the lamps die out one after the other--a single one still
+burns over the great mirror, and by its flickering light the old man
+sees the figures of the armed man and the snowy maiden, drenched in
+gore, reel, totter, heave, whirl in strange confusion--grow to enormous
+height, mount, sink, fall. At this very moment the great clock of the
+palatines strikes three--and awakes the old man in the sleeping chamber
+of his ancestors, stretched at the foot of the escutcheoned chair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+His attendants, hearing a noise, throng into his room with hurrying
+steps and flaming torches; they find their lord lying prostrate on the
+floor with bleeding hands and agitated air. He starts to his feet,
+crying:
+
+'Save my child! Kill my brother's son!' They crowd around him. 'Is it
+still night, or does the day _really_ dawn?'
+
+He staggers to the oaken table, seizes his sword, draws it from the
+sheath; the handle turns in his trembling hands, the blade falls to the
+ground; again he grasps it, while great tears rain down from his haggard
+eyes. The attendants cluster round him, kneel before him, and entreat
+him to tell them clearly what he would have them do.
+
+'Follow me! follow me!' he pants in broken voice. He hurries to the
+door, half borne on by his people; passes along the corridor, wrestling
+with faintness and giddiness as a strong swimmer battles with the waves.
+The attendants gaze from one to the other, making the sign of the cross.
+
+The swooning and delirium of the old man over, the retainers follow him
+as he totters on to the wedding chamber. Profound repose seems to rest
+upon the castle; through the wide range of open double doors the grand
+saloon of festival is clearly seen; the tables are deserted, and the
+lights dying in their sockets. The morning twilight is already stealing
+in through the open windows. Strange! the pages bearing the torches
+before the old lord come to a sudden halt; a man runs toward them round
+the sharp angle of the gallery; his hair is in confusion, his robe
+soiled and torn; no dagger in his belt nor sword at his side; his lips
+are blue and shivering, his brow pallid; he looks as if Death were
+breathing on him as he passed, and he fled in terror from the fleshless
+phantom.
+
+'The father must not advance another step;' and stretching his arms
+toward the old man, he seizes one of his hands.
+
+'Where is thy wife? Speak, and tell me!'
+
+The bridegroom kneels before him: 'Stop, father; go back to thine own
+chamber; waken not thy sleeping daughter so early.'
+
+'Thou sayest: 'Awake her not.' Will she _ever_ again waken? Speak
+quickly. Tell me the naked truth, for evil spirits filled my sleep with
+dreams of terror. I saw her pleading for death, but thou wast unarmed as
+now; and another stood near, who murdered the child I gave thee. Speak!
+Was this all a horrid dream, a fearful jest of the summer's night to
+appal my soul?'
+
+The bridegroom bows his head under the unendurable weight of this
+question. He shudders, and with lifted hand tries to turn the old man
+back.
+
+'Ha! thou darest not speak--thou art silent, I know it all now. God
+punishes me because I have bowed to thy king, and sought alliance with
+thy craven blood, alien as thou art!'
+
+The window panes rattle as the wild cry echoes from the old man's
+quivering lips; all present tremble at the voice of his despair. He
+seizes his sword with both his hands, and while it trembles in his
+grasp, continues:
+
+'Art thou still silent? My fathers were the enemies of thine; had I a
+son, he would have been thy deadly foe. I had an only daughter--I gave
+her to thee--she too is gone--take all--there is no one to care for
+now--the inheritance is also thine.'
+
+The sword rattles in his hands, the blade falls from his grasp, as he
+strikes it against the pillar near him. The bridegroom starts forward
+and endeavors to stay the old man. The old man pushes him off, they
+wrestle in their bewilderment, and struggle like wild beasts. Despair
+nerves the aged arms with iron strength. Young and agile as he is, the
+bridegroom feels the hands of his adversary pressing heavily upon his
+shoulders, he bends under the weight, the old man hurls him to the
+ground, and, no longer requiring aid from others, strides over the
+prostrate body. He stalks on with flashing, burning eyes, his gigantic
+shadow striding with him on the wall, his wide robes floating on the
+wind, his white hair streaming, his form winged with the courage of
+despair. The retainers follow, the vaulted ceilings echoing back the
+sharp gride of their footsteps. Only one lighted saloon now lies between
+them and the chamber of the ladies of the castle. The double door at the
+other end is thrown wide open, the walls and windows of the wedding
+chamber are crimsoning with the early hues of day, silence and solitude
+pervade them, nothing falls upon the air save the twitter of the birds
+and the murmur of the fountains. The old man rushes on directly to the
+open door and toward the reddening east.
+
+He reaches the threshold, and the immense red face of the just risen sun
+dazzles his eyes. Is it the bloody Heart of God he sees pulsating
+through the universe? Blinded for a moment, he staggers on at random,
+when suddenly he sees the floor is red with blood. The dreadful phantoms
+of the night are again around him, no longer floating in misty visions,
+but glaring fixed before him in the stern light of dread reality. In the
+fierce blaze of its pitiless rays, he sees the dead body of his
+brother's son; the bloody form of his only child, his good daughter,
+lies pale at his feet. Like a drowning man he gasps for breath, beats
+the air wildly around him, as if trying to rescue himself from this hell
+of spectres. Then he stands motionless, as if transfixed to the spot.
+Awakened by the noise and rumor, guests, feudal retainers, servants, and
+attendants rush to the spot, each in turn to be terror-stricken at the
+threshold, to move within awed and silent. All eyes wander from the old
+lord of the castle to the stiffening corpses at his feet. They lie
+together now! The left arm of the exile is round the neck of his sister;
+her head rests on his armed bosom just above the spot where the sword
+still remains plunged in his breast; his right hand has fallen beside
+it. There was no one near to close their dying eyelids, the pupils
+glitter glassily in the whitening light of the ascending sun, and the
+blood which is everywhere around, on the bridal bed, on the coat of mail
+of the young chieftain, on the white robes and snowy bosom of the bride,
+already congeals into dark pools or crimson corals. Above this cooling
+stream their features rest in marble peace--a faint smile is on the lips
+of the young bride--while a passing thought of warlike glory still beams
+from the broad, pallid brow of the young hero. So tranquil their repose,
+the agonies of death must have seemed light to them, lost in the
+ecstasies of faithful spirits.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The old man continues to stand as he first stood--no groan escapes his
+lips, no shuddering shakes his frame. The new comers press those already
+present forward, but all breaths are hushed, hands are fixed steadily on
+sword hilts that they may not rattle, all sound is stilled--they stand
+in awe of that dreadful moment when their lord shall awake from his
+torpor, and turn to them his face of woe. How will they bear the anguish
+written there? despair without a ray of hope!
+
+O God! what a miracle! He turns toward them, greets them imperiously but
+courteously, as was his wont, as if, absorbed in thought and doubtful of
+the dire reality before him, he was trying to ascertain its truth. Fever
+burns in his eye and flames upon his wrinkled cheek.
+
+'Hungarian wine!' he cries.' I will drink to the health of my fellow
+citizens.'
+
+No one moves, the bystanders seem turning to stone.
+
+'Haste! This blood must be washed away before my daughter returns to her
+chamber. Haste, I say!'
+
+None move, all eyes are cast down; they cannot bear the strange light in
+his wandering glances.
+
+'Ah! do you not know we are all dreaming? My sleep is torpid, stubborn,
+accursed, but the dawn is here, and I must soon awake!'
+
+So saying he moves out upon the gallery, where suddenly a new thought
+appears to strike him; he leans over the marble balustrade, looks to the
+right and left, then exclaims:
+
+'Guests, we will go out to seek the young betrothed; it is strange they
+should have gone out to walk so early!'
+
+He descends the vaulted stairway by which his nephew had ascended but a
+short time before. He stoops at the foot of the hill, picks some roses,
+murmuring:
+
+'For my good child. Move silently, friends, she loved this bower of
+jessamines; we will surprise her here, and be the first to say good
+morning to the bride.'
+
+With drooping heads his guests follow his steps as he glides along under
+the sad firs and stately pines. Pathways stretch before them, leading
+into forest depths and over mossy banks, or climbing hillsides laden
+with vines. The old man often calls his daughter loudly by her name; the
+laughing echoes answer mockingly; the followers burst into tears.
+Striking his forehead suddenly and violently with his hands, he cries:
+
+'The dream! the nightmare! Why should it look to me so like truth? When
+will the _true_ sun rise upon me?' Then he rushes to a sturdy pine,
+embraces its rough trunk with both his arms, strikes his head against
+it: 'Awake me, thou hard bark--awake me from this dreadful dream!'
+Turning back, he seizes one of the nearest of his followers by the
+throat, crying: 'Wrestle with thy lord, thou phantom of a servant, and
+wake him from his dream accursed!'
+
+The frightened servant slips away and flees. The old man sighs, raises
+his eyes to heaven, an expression of submission to a divinely appointed
+torment shines for a moment upon his quivering features, as if he humbly
+offered to God the tortures of this cruel dream in penance for his sins.
+He walks on calmly for a while, then says:
+
+'The bride is certainly on the lake; we will find her there.'
+
+The sun is fully up now, drinking the dews from the leaves, and lighting
+up the waves of the lake with splendor. Large beaked boats with heraldic
+banners are rocking in the coves. Fastening the roses he had gathered
+for his child in his bosom, he walks to the shore, with fever burning
+more and more vividly in his face. No one ventures to suggest a return
+to the castle. Accustomed to obey the unbending will of their lord, they
+still pay homage to it, though it is no longer a thing of this world.
+Dark as midnight seems the day dawn to them; their own brains seem
+seething into madness.
+
+'Perhaps she sails in one of her own light boats round the lake with her
+husband; she may be behind the fringe of willows, or among the little
+islands. Hallo! six of you take the oars; we will soon find her.'
+
+They obey, he seats himself within, they push from shore.
+
+'Why do you breathe so hard and look so weary to-day; is the water
+heavier than of old?'
+
+They answer not, but row more rapidly. The larger boats are filled with
+guests and retainers; many follow the old lord, many remain on shore
+from lack of room. One after another the islets fly behind and hide
+themselves from view, with their circling wreaths of reeds and sedges.
+Rocks and bowlders are scattered over many of them, once sacrificial
+altars of old and cruel gods, now draped with hanging weeds and trailing
+mosses. Flocks of wild birds are startled up as the boats draw near
+them, frightened by the noise and plashing of the oars. Black clouds of
+them hang over the boat of the old man at every turn among the labyrinth
+of islands. He claps his hands:
+
+'Here! we will surely find her here!' And when nothing is there to be
+seen, he asks the winds: 'Where is my child--my good and beautiful
+child?'
+
+Having sailed round and round the whole group of islands, he orders them
+to row out into the middle of the lake, and then make for the other
+shore. He sinks into silence now; he leaves the helm, throwing himself
+suddenly down into the boat, while a ghastly pallor settles on his
+venerable face. He stretches his hand into the water, dives into it with
+his arm, listens to the rippling of the waves, then bursts into a loud
+scream of wild laughter. The oarsmen stop, in hopes he will order the
+boat to return to shore. He does not speak, but rises up and looks,
+first back at the boats following after, then at the mountains, the
+plains, the forests, the gardens, the ancestral castle. Constantly
+striking his palms together or rubbing his head with his hand, he
+exclaims:
+
+'Who will waken me? I dream! I dream! I must, I will awake!'
+
+The oarsmen shudder. Then, collecting his whole remaining force, he
+flings himself violently into the depths. Three of the men instantly
+plunge in after him; those in the boats hasten to the rescue. Having
+seen what had happened, they gaze upon the spot where the whirling,
+whistling waves were closing over the old lord and his faithful
+servants. The bold divers reappear, bearing in their arms the castle's
+lord. Under the heraldic banner they lay the last heir of the haughty
+House. In vain they try to resuscitate the venerable form; the dream is
+over now, but the mortal life remains under the blue waves of the
+ancestral lake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The foreign prince inherits the ancient castle with all its treasures,
+the glories of the honored name, the entire Past of a noble race. He
+buries the bodies of his virgin wife and haughty father-in-law with
+funereal pomp and honor; but orders the corpse of the exile to be
+roughly thrown into unhallowed ground. In the very hall in which he had
+spent the first night of his bridal, surrounded by gay revellers,
+pledging full cups of ruby wine, with light jests flying from reckless
+lip to lip--he spreads, with the same comrades, the solemn Feast of the
+Dead. When the next dawn breaks upon them, mounting their vigorous
+steeds, they all ride back to the court of the King of the South. The
+king rejoices in his heart, giving thanks to the Fates that his leal
+subject has inherited vast wealth, and that the alien family, powerful
+through so many centuries, is extinct forever.
+
+In the clefts of the mountains they remember and honor the young
+chieftain, whose body had been thrown into unhallowed ground. They know
+that his dishonored grave lies on that side of the castle through which
+will pass their path to victory; and they will plant the cross of
+glorious memories upon it as they march to the assault to drive the
+foreigner from the Home of his loyal ancestors. Eagles and vultures, led
+by some mystic instinct, are often seen to fly from the mountains to the
+towers and turrets of the castle. It is certain that in some not distant
+day the comrades of the chieftain will pour with resistless strength
+into its doomed walls.... Let another chant to you the Hymn of victory;
+I have sung the Dirge of agony!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Unhappy maiden! thou vanishest like a thought which cannot shape itself
+in any language known on earth, a dream of early love! Thou wouldst not
+lose thy snowy wings, and they bear thee on the whirlwind's track, where
+the mists fly, the clouds sail, the sound of harps dies, the leaves of
+autumn drift, the breath of sighs vanishes! Martyr to thine own dream of
+plighted faith, they bury thy fair form in ancestral earth; perchance
+the sculptured marble presses on thy faultless brow, for on its snow
+they grave the hated foreign name borne by thy alien husband! But the
+grass and wild flowers will soon grow unheeded around it, and in the
+green and flourishing world of the ever vanishing, thy name is never
+spoken.
+
+On the very morning of thy death, the seven old men to whom obedience
+was commanded by the chieftain, curse thee because thou borest away with
+thee the soul of their hero. In their addresses to the people, with
+scorn and scoff upon their lips, they sneer and call thee 'WOMAN;' but
+the people weep, and pray: Lord Christ, Son of the Virgin, give to the
+maiden ETERNAL PEACE!
+
+
+
+
+THE ENGLISH PRESS.
+
+III.
+
+
+We have seen that the tone of the newspapers had of late years greatly
+improved. Men of eminence and great intellectual attainments were to be
+found among the contributors to the various journals, and what is much
+more important--for this was pre-eminently the age of bribery and
+corruption--men of honesty and integrity. Still there was a large class
+of venal hirelings in the pay of the Government. These were described by
+Mr. Pulteney as 'a herd of wretches whom neither information can
+enlighten nor affluence elevate.' He further expresses his conviction
+that 'if their patrons would read their writings, their salaries would
+be quickly withdrawn, for a few pages would convince them that they can
+neither attack nor defend, neither raise any man's reputation by their
+panegyrics, nor destroy it by their defamation.' Sir Robert Walpole,
+who, as has been already stated, expended enormous sums in bribes to
+public writers, however expedient he may have thought it to retain their
+services, does not appear to have attached much importance personally to
+the writers either for or against him, at least if we may put faith in
+his own words. On one occasion he said: 'I have never discovered any
+reason to exalt the authors who write against the Administration to a
+higher degree of reputation than their opponents;' and on another, 'Nor
+do I often read the papers of either party, except when I am informed by
+some, who have more inclination to such studies than myself, that they
+have risen by some accident above their common level.'
+
+Among the first rank of newspaper writers at this period must be placed
+the undying name of Henry Fielding, whose connection with journalism
+originated in his becoming, in 1739, editor and part owner of the
+_Champion_, a tri-weekly periodical of the _Spectator_ stamp, with a
+compendium of the chief news of the day in addition. The rebellion of
+1745, like every other topic of absorbing interest, became the parent of
+a great many news sheets, the chief of which was probably the _National
+Journal, or County Gazette_, inasmuch as it called forth a Government
+prosecution, and procured six months' imprisonment for its printer. In
+opposition to the Jacobite journals, several newspapers were started in
+the interest of the Government. Fielding brought out the _True Patriot_,
+in 1745, and proved no mean antagonist for the sympathizers with the
+banished Stuarts. In the prospectus issued with his first number, he has
+some rather unpleasant things to say of his literary brethren:
+
+'The first little imperfection in these writings is that there is scarce
+a syllable of truth in any of them. If this be admitted to be a fault,
+it requires no other evidence than themselves and the perpetual
+contradictions which occur, not only on comparing one with the other,
+but the same author with himself on different days. Secondly, there is
+no sense in them. To prove this likewise, I appeal to their works.
+Thirdly, there is in reality nothing in them at all. And this also must
+be allowed by their readers, if paragraphs, which contain neither wit,
+nor humor, nor sense, nor the least importance, may be properly said to
+contain nothing.... Nor will this appear strange if we consider who are
+the authors of such tracts--namely, the journeymen of booksellers, of
+whom, I believe, much the same may be truly predicated as of these
+their productions. But the encouragement with which these lucubrations
+are read may seem most strange and more difficult to be accounted for.
+And here I cannot agree with my bookseller that their eminent badness
+recommends them. The true reason is, I believe, the same which I once
+heard an economist assign for the content and satisfaction with which
+his family drank water-cider--viz., because they could procure no better
+liquor. Indeed, I make no doubt but that the understanding as well as
+the palate, though it may out of necessity swallow the worse, will, in
+general, prefer the better.'
+
+These sarcasms are probably not much overcolored, for, with one or two
+exceptions, newspapers had sunk to a very low state indeed, and this may
+be looked upon as one of the most degraded periods in the history of
+journalism with which we have had to deal, or shall hereafter have to
+encounter. The _Champion_, of course, was intended to be 'the better.'
+It did not, however, meet with any very great success, but still with
+enough to encourage Fielding in his attacks. In 1747 he dealt another
+heavy blow at the Jacobites, by commencing the _Jacobite Journal_, in
+which they were most mercilessly ridiculed and satirized. His opponents
+replied as best they could, but they were not masters of the keen and
+polished weapons which the great novelist wielded, and they were
+therefore obliged to content themselves with venomous spite and abuse.
+The ablest of these antagonists was a newspaper entitled _Old England,
+or the Constitutional Journal_, an infamous and scurrilous publication,
+to which, however, the elegant Lord Chesterfield did not think it
+derogatory to contribute. Among other celebrities who were associated
+with the press at this time, we find Lord Lyttelton, Bonnell
+Thornton--the author of the _Connoisseur_, an essay paper, which, though
+inferior to the _Spectator_ and _Tatler_, may be read with great
+pleasure and profit, even at the present time--the famous Beckford,
+Edward Moore, and Arthur Murphy. This last started the _Test_, a journal
+devoted to the demolition of Pitt, but which called forth an opponent of
+no mean pretensions, under the name of the _Con-Test_, for then, as now,
+as it always has been, and always will be, a good and taking title
+produced a host of imitations and piracies. In spite, however, of
+Murphy's great talents and its first blush of success, the _Test_ soon
+began to languish, and died of atrophy, after a brief existence of some
+eight or nine months. One of the most formidable anti-ministerialist
+papers which, had hitherto appeared, was the _Monitor_. It came out upon
+the accession of George III., and was especially occupied in attacking
+Lord Bute, the young monarch's chief minister and favorite. Its editor
+was John Entick, who is best known as the author of a dictionary, which
+was largely used in the schooldays of the last generation, and is still
+occasionally to be met with in old-fashioned families and out-of-the-way
+corners of the world. This _Monitor_ was as terrible to the marquis as
+another more modern Monitor was to the Merrimac, and the Scotch minion
+was compelled to bestir himself. He called in to his aid Bubb
+Doddington, who, during the lifetime of the preceding king, had done
+good service for the party of the Prince of Wales, in a journal styled
+the _Remembrancer_, and they, in conjunction with Smollett as editor,
+brought out the _Briton_ in 1762. It was but a weakly specimen of a
+Briton from the very first. There were many causes which contributed to
+its downfall. Scotchmen were regarded throughout the nation with
+feelings of thorough detestation, and Smollett had made for himself many
+bitter enemies, of men who had formerly been his friends, by his
+acceptance of this employment. It was the hand of a quondam friend that
+dealt his paper the _coup-de-grace_, none other in fact than John
+Wilkes, who had started the _North Briton_ in opposition to Smollett.
+The _Briton_ expired on the 12th of February, 1763, and upon the 23d of
+April, in the same year, appeared the never-to-be-forgotten No. 45 of
+the _North Briton_. The circumstances connected with this famous
+_brochure_, and the consequences which followed upon its appearance, are
+so well known, that it will not be necessary to proceed to any great
+length in describing its incidents. This said No. 45 initiated a great
+fight, in which both sides committed several mistakes, won several
+victories, and sustained several defeats. Wilkes undoubtedly got the
+worst of it at first, but his discomfiture was set off by many
+compensations in different ways, which his long struggle procured for
+him. The obnoxious article, boldly assuming the responsibility of
+ministers for the king's speech--for Wilkes always asserted that he had
+the highest respect for the king himself--practically charged them with
+falsehood. Upon this they issued a general warrant for the apprehension
+of all the authors, printers, and publishers of the _North Briton_.
+Wilkes was seized and thrown into the Tower, where he was kept for four
+days, all access of friends and legal advisers being denied to him. At
+the end of that period he was brought before the Court of Common Pleas
+upon a writ of _habeas corpus_. Three points were raised in his favor,
+namely, whether the warrant was legal, whether the particular passage in
+the libel complained of ought not to have been specified, and whether
+his privileges as a member of Parliament did not protect him from
+arrest. The celebrated Lord Camden, then Chief Justice Pratt, presided,
+and ruled against Wilkes on the first two points, but discharged him
+from custody on the third. Wilkes hereupon reprinted the article. Both
+Houses of Parliament now took up the cudgels in behalf of the
+Government, and resolved that privilege of Parliament did not extend to
+arrest for libel. The House of Commons also resolved 'that the _North
+Briton_, No. 45, is a false, scandalous, and seditious libel, containing
+expressions of the most unexampled insolence and contumely toward his
+Majesty, the grossest expressions against both Houses of Parliament, and
+the most audacious defiance of the authority of the whole legislature,
+and most manifestly tending to alienate the affections of the people
+from his Majesty, to withdraw them from their obedience to the laws of
+the realm, and to excite them to traitorous insurrection against his
+Majesty's Government.' They also ordered the libel to be publicly burned
+by the common hangman, in front of the Royal Exchange. The authorities
+attempted to carry out this order, but an enormous mob assembled, drove
+off the officers, rescued the journal from the flames, and, in revenge,
+built a huge bonfire at Temple Bar, into which they threw the jackboot,
+the favorite emblem for expressing the public dislike of Lord Bute. It
+was now Wilkes's turn, and he brought an action in the following year
+against the under secretary of state, for the illegal seizure of his
+papers. Judge Pratt summed up in his favor, directing the jury that
+general warrants were 'unconstitutional, illegal, and altogether void.'
+As being the instrument in eliciting this memorable exposition of the
+laws, Wilkes deserves the gratitude of every Englishman who cares one
+jot for his constitutional rights, and of every lover of freedom
+throughout the world. He was not without immediate and substantial
+rewards, for the jury found a verdict for him, with L1,000 damages. The
+corporation of the city of London, who had taken his part throughout,
+eventually chose him sheriff, lord mayor, and chamberlain, and presented
+the lord chief justice with the freedom of the city, in token of their
+admiration for his conduct. On the other hand, Wilkes was expelled the
+House of Commons, on account of the libel, and on the very same day
+which witnessed his triumph in the Court of Common Pleas, he was tried
+in the Court of the King's Bench, for its republication, and found
+guilty. He refused to surrender to judgment, and was accordingly
+outlawed. He then proceeded to the Continent, from whence, some three or
+four years later, he addressed a petition to the king for a pardon. As
+no notice was taken of this, he returned to England, and paid a fine of
+L500, his outlawry being reversed. He next petitioned the House of
+Commons for readmission; but his petition was rejected, and a new writ
+issued, when he was returned by an overwhelming majority. The House
+expelled him again, and this farce of expulsion and reelection was
+enacted four distinct times, until at last his election was declared
+null and void. He subsequently brought an action against Lord Halifax
+for illegal imprisonment and the seizure of his papers, and obtained
+L4,000 damages. He lived several years after this, but took no prominent
+part in political affairs, confining his energies to the sphere of the
+city. While he was in exile at Paris he published an account of his
+trial, etc., but, as he was unfortunate in his defenders, so was he in
+his adversaries. The writings of his friend and coadjutor, Charles
+Churchill, the clever writer, but disreputable divine, are wellnigh, if
+not entirely, forgotten, but the undying pencil of the immortal Hogarth
+will forever hold him up to the gaze of remote posterity. Whatever may
+be the feeling as to his political opinions, and however great may be
+our gratitude to him in one particular instance, his authorship of the
+abominable and filthy 'Essay upon Women'--which, by the way, formed one
+count in the indictment against him at his trial in the King's
+Bench--will always earn for him the execration of mankind. The success
+of Wilkes in his action against the secretary of state, was the signal
+for a host of other authors, printers, and publishers, who had been
+similarly attacked, to bring similar actions. They generally obtained
+heavy damages, and ministers learned a lesson of caution which they did
+not soon forget.
+
+But while they persecuted the opposition scribes, ministers did not
+forget to reward those writers who advocated the cause of the
+Government. Men who had failed in all kinds of professions and
+employments, turned their attention to political literature, and, as far
+as emolument was concerned, met with great success, for although the
+talent was all on one side, the profit was all on the other. Among the
+chief of these fortunate scribblers was Dr. Francis, the father of the
+celebrated Sir Philip, Dr. Shebbrart, Hugh Kelly, and Arthur Murphy.
+
+We now arrive at another most memorable period in newspaper history--the
+appearance of the Letters of Junius. The interest in the discovery of
+the source of these withering diatribes has been almost as great as in
+that of the Nile, but, unlike that 'frightened and fugitive' river,
+their origin will probably never be discovered with any certainty. A
+neat little library might be formed of the books and pamphlets that have
+been written upon this 'vexed question,' and the name of every man that
+was at all eminent at the time of their publication--and of a great many
+too that were by no means eminent--has been at some time or other
+suggested as the author. This controversy may be looked upon as a sort
+of literary volcano, which every now and then becoming suddenly active,
+after a period of quiescence of longer or shorter duration, sends forth
+great clouds of smoke--but nothing else; and then all things remain once
+more in _statu quo_. Our space will not permit us to make any remark
+upon the matter, further than to express an opinion that the
+preponderance of evidence appears to be in favor of Sir Philip
+Francis--the untiring, unscrupulous bloodhound who hunted down Warren
+Hastings--having been the author. The first of these famous letters
+appeared in the _Public Advertiser_, of April 28, 1767; the last of a
+stalwart family of sixty-nine, on January 21, 1772. Let Burke testify to
+their tremendous power. To the House of Commons he said: 'He made you
+his quarry, and you still bleed from the wounds of his talons. You
+crouched, and still crouch beneath his rage.' To the speaker he said:
+'Nor has he dreaded the terrors of your brow, sir; he has attacked even
+you--he has--and I believe you have no reason to triumph in the
+encounter.' And again: 'Kings, lords, and commons are but the sport of
+his fury.' Speaking of the 'Letter to the king,' Burke said: 'It was the
+rancor and venom with which I was struck. In these respects the _North
+Briton_ is as much inferior to him as in strength, wit, and judgment.'
+The Government tried every means in their power to discover the author,
+but in vain. Woodfall, the proprietor of the _Public Advertiser_, knew
+or professed to know nothing about it, asserting that the letters were
+found in his box from time to time, but how they came there he could not
+tell. Let it suffice us to know that they admirably served the purpose
+for which they were written, viz., to defeat tyranny, and to defend
+freedom; that they are still allowed to rank as the greatest political
+essays that were ever written; and that Junius, whoever he was, will
+always be gratefully remembered among us, so long as we continue to
+display that watchful jealousy in the preservation of our liberties
+which has hitherto ever characterized us as a nation.
+
+The Government prosecuted several newspaper proprietors and printers for
+publishing these letters, and more especially that addressed to the
+king. Among others who were brought to trial were Woodfall himself; John
+Almon, of the _London Museum_; Miller, of the _London Evening Post_;
+Baldwin, of the _St. James's Chronicle_; Say, of the _Gazetteer_, and
+Robinson, of the _Independent Chronicle_. Almon was, however, the only
+one who was punished. The jury consisted of Government employes,
+carefully selected, and of course brought in a verdict adverse to him.
+Almon was fined and ordered to find substantial bail for his future good
+behavior.
+
+The _Public Advertiser_ was a joint-stock concern, chiefly in the hands
+of the booksellers, among whom we find names which are still famous in
+Paternoster Row, such as Longman, Cadell, Rivington, and Strahan.
+Woodfall's ledger supplies us with the following information as to the
+expenses of getting it up, some of the items being sufficiently curious:
+
+                                            L  s. d.
+
+Paid translating foreign news, etc.,       100  0  0
+Foreign newspapers,                         14  0  0
+Foy, at 2s. a day,                          31  4  0
+Lloyd's coffee house for post news          12  0  0
+Home news, as per receipts and incidents,  282  4 11-1/2
+List of sheriffs,                              10  6
+Plantation, Irish, and Scotch news,         50  0  0
+Portsmouth letter,                           8  5  0
+Stocks,                                      3  3  0
+Porterage to the stamp office,              10  8  0
+Recorder's clerk,                            1  1  0
+Sir John Fielding,                          50  0  0
+Delivering papers fifty-two weeks,
+  at L1 4s. per week,                       62  8  0
+Clerk, and to collect debts,                30  0  0
+Setting up extra advertisements,            31 10  0
+A person to go daily to fetch
+  in advertisements, getting
+  evening papers, etc.,                     15 15  0
+Morning and evening papers,                 26  8  9-1/2
+Price of hay and straw, Whitechapel,         1  6  0
+Mr. Green for port entries,                 31 10  0
+Law charges, Mr. Holloway,                   6  7  5
+Bad debts,                                  18  3  6
+                                          ----------
+                                          L796 15  2
+
+The sale was about three thousand a day, and the shareholders received
+L80 per share clear profit. The newspapers of those days paid the
+managers of theatres for accounts of their plays, as witness the
+following entries:
+
+                            L  s. d.
+
+Playhouses,                100  0  0
+Drury Lane advertisements,  64  8  6
+Covent Garden               66 11  0
+                           ---------
+                          L230 19  6
+
+Theatrical advertising had not reached the pitch of development which it
+has since attained; the competition was not so severe, and managers did
+not find it necessary to have recourse to ingenious methods of
+propitiating dramatic critics, such as producing their plays at the
+commencement of a new season, or paying L300 a year for the supervision
+of the playbills--expedients which have been now and then employed in
+our own times.
+
+Among the writers in the _Public Advertiser_ were Caleb Whitefoord,
+_dilettante_ and wine merchant, Charles d'Este, who, like the popular
+London preacher of the present day, Bellew, first tried the stage, but
+not succeeding in that line, entered the pulpit; John Taylor, afterward
+editor of the _Morning Post_; Tom Syers, author of the 'Dialogues of the
+Dead,' and Woodfall's brother William. This last started the _Morning
+Chronicle_, in 1769, a paper whose fate it was, after lasting nearly a
+century, to pass into the venal hands of Sergeant Glover (who sold it to
+Louis Napoleon, in order that it might become _sub rosa_ a French organ
+in London), and to die in consequence in well-merited dishonor.
+
+The _Public Ledger_ was brought out by Newberry, the bookseller, in
+1760, and is chiefly remarkable as being the vehicle through which
+Goldsmith's 'Citizen of the World' was first given to the public.
+
+'Poet Goldsmith, for shortness called 'Noll,'
+Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll,'
+
+received two guineas for his first article, and afterward became a
+regular contributor at a guinea an article. William Radcliffe, the
+husband of the authoress of 'The Mysteries of Udolfo,' edited the
+_Englishman_, a paper to which Edmund Burke contributed, and
+subsequently the _English Chronicle_ and the _Morning Herald_. Of all
+these he was proprietor, either altogether or in part, and it seems to
+have been customary for the editor to be the proprietor, or, more
+strictly speaking, for the proprietor to be the editor.
+
+The prosecutions in connection with the letters of Junius were not the
+only attacks made upon the press at this time. Parliament again entered
+the lists against it. There was a certain Lord Marchmont, whose especial
+mission appears to have been to persecute the newspapers. Shakspeare
+says,
+
+'The evil that men do lives after them,
+The good is oft interred with their bones;'
+
+and whether or no my Lord Marchmont ever did any good cannot now be
+ascertained. All that is known of him is that he was very pertinacious
+and very successful in his onslaughts upon his victims, for, whenever he
+saw the name of any member of the House of Peers in a journal, he used
+to make a motion against the printer for breach of privilege, summon him
+before the bar of the House, and have him heavily fined. The House of
+Commons followed suit. The old bone of contention, the reporting of the
+debates, was raked up again. There were then two giants of reporting,
+William Woodfall, who, from his wonderful retentive powers, was called
+by the _sobriquet_ of Memory Woodfall, and William Radcliffe. It was in
+1771 that the House proceeded to active measures by a majority of ninety
+votes to fifty-five. Orders were given to arrest the printers,
+publishers, and authors of the _Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser_ and
+the _Middlesex Journal, or Chronicle of Liberty_. The printers went into
+hiding, and a reward of L50 was offered for their apprehension. Shortly
+afterward, this raid was extended to the printers of the _Morning
+Chronicle_, _St. James's Chronicle_, _General Post_, _London Evening
+Post_, _Whitehall Evening Post_, and _London Packet_. Some of these
+appeared at the bar of the House, and actually _made their submission on
+their knees_. Miller, of the _London Evening Post_, declined to
+surrender, and was, after some difficulty, arrested under a warrant from
+the speaker. He was taken before the lord mayor, who was a member of the
+House of Commons. The city's chief magistrate--let his name, Brass
+Crosby, be remembered with honor--declared the warrant illegal,
+discharged Miller, and committed the speaker's messenger for assault.
+The same thing was done in the case of Wheble, of the _Middlesex
+Journal_, who was taken before John Wilkes, then sitting as alderman at
+Guildhall; and in that of Thompson, of the _Gazetteer_, who was taken
+before Alderman Oliver. The ground for their discharge was that the
+speaker's warrant had no force within the boundaries of the city,
+without being countersigned by a magistrate of the corporation. The
+House of Commons became furious, and ordered the attendance of Crosby
+and Oliver, but, taught by old experience, did not in the first instance
+think it desirable to meddle with Wilkes. The civic magistrates stood
+their ground manfully, and produced their charters. The House retorted
+by looking up the resolutions passed on various occasions against the
+publication of the debates. Meanwhile a mob assembled outside, and
+abused and hustled the members on their way to the House. After a fierce
+debate, Oliver was committed to the Tower. The attendance of Wilkes was
+then ordered for the 8th of April, but, in the mean time, the House,
+like Fear as represented by Collins in his Ode to the Passions,
+
+            'back recoiled...
+Even at the sound himself had made;'
+
+and accordingly got out of the difficulty by adjourning over the day for
+which the redoubtable Wilkes had been summoned. On the 27th of April,
+however, the lord mayor was sent to the Tower. The whole country rang
+with indignation; but, nevertheless, the city magistrates remained
+incarcerated until the 23d of July, when the Parliament was prorogued,
+and, its power of imprisonment being at an end, they were set free. Such
+was the issue of the last battle between the Parliament and the press,
+on the question of publishing the debates. It was fought in 1771, and
+had been a tougher conflict than any of its predecessors, but it was
+decisive. There is no danger of the subject being reopened; the
+reporting of the debates is now one of the most important of the
+functions of our newspapers; and the members themselves are too sensible
+of the services rendered them by the reporters' gallery to be suicidal
+enough to inaugurate a new crusade against it. What those services are,
+any one who has been patriotic or curious enough to sit out a debate in
+the strangers' gallery over night, and then to read the speeches, to
+which he has listened, in the newspapers next morning, can readily
+appreciate. Hazy ideas have become clear, mutilated and unintelligible
+sentences have been neatly and properly arranged, needless repetitions
+and tautological verbiage have disappeared; there is no sign of
+hesitation; hums and haws, and other inexpressible ejaculations, grunts,
+and interpolations find no place; the thread of an argument is shown
+where none was visible before, and all is fluent, concise, and more or
+less to the point.
+
+Meanwhile the tone of the press had again greatly improved, partly owing
+to purification through the trials which it had undergone, and partly
+owing to the better taste of the public. Its circulation had rapidly
+increased. In 1753 the number of stamps on newspapers in the United
+Kingdom was 7,411,757; in 1760, 9,464,790; in 1774, 12,300,608; in 1775,
+12,680,906; and in 1776, 12,836,000, a halt in its progress being caused
+by Lord North's new stamp act, raising the stamp from one to one and a
+half pence. The ordinary price of a news sheet was two or two and a half
+pence, but this was more than doubled by its cost of transmission
+through the post office, which, for a daily paper, was L5 a year. The
+_Morning Post_, the full title of which was originally the _Morning Post
+and Daily Advertiser_, first came out in 1772. In 1775 it appeared
+regularly every morning, under the editorship of the Rev. Henry Bate,
+afterward the Rev. Sir Henry Bate Dudley, Bart. The _Gentleman's
+Magazine_--that prolific mine to whose stores of wealth the present
+series of articles is beholden times out of number--gives a curious
+account of a duel into which this clerical editor was forced in his
+clerical capacity. Editorial duels were not unknown in those days.
+Wilkes had fought one or two, as well as other editors; but these were
+the circumstances of Mr. Bate's encounter:
+
+'The cause of quarrel arose from some offensive paragraphs that had
+appeared in the _Morning Post_, highly reflecting on the character of a
+lady, for whom Captain Stoney had a particular regard. Mr. Bate had
+taken every possible method, consistent with honor, to convince Captain
+Stoney that the insertion of the paragraphs was wholly without his
+knowledge, to which Mr. Stoney gave no credit, and insisted on the
+satisfaction of a gentleman, or the discovery of the author. This
+happened some days before, but meeting, as it were by accident, on the
+day before mentioned (January 13, 1777), they adjourned to the Adelphi,
+called for a room, shut the door, and, being furnished with pistols,
+discharged them at each other without effect. They then drew swords, and
+Mr. Stoney received a wound in the breast and arm, and Mr. Bate one in
+the thigh. Mr. Bate's sword bent and slanted against the captain's
+breastbone, which Mr. Bate apprising him of, Captain Stoney called to
+him to straighten it, and in the interim, while the sword was under his
+foot for that purpose, the door was broken open, or the death of one of
+the parties would most certainly have been the issue.'
+
+Another eminent writer in the _Public Advertiser_ was John Horne,
+afterward John Horne Tooke, the author of the 'Diversions of Purley,' a
+man to be always remembered with gratitude in America, for the part
+which he took in the struggle between the colonies and the mother
+country. His connection with the press was one long series of trials for
+libel, in which he always got the worst of the fray. In fact, he rather
+appeared to like being in hot water, for he more than once wrote an
+article with the full intention of standing the trial which he knew
+would be sure to follow its publication. One of his reasons may have
+been that this was the only way in which he could indulge his penchant
+for forensic disputation. He had been bred a clergyman, but, disliking
+the retirement of a quiet country parsonage, he threw up his preferment,
+abandoned his clerical functions altogether, and came to London to keep
+his terms at the Temple. The benchers, however, holding the force of the
+maxim, 'Once in orders always in orders,' refused to admit him to the
+degree of barrister at law. In 1771 he founded the Society of the
+Supporters of the Bill of Rights, one of the objects of which was to
+uphold the newspapers in their conflicts with their great foe, the law
+of libel, and to defray the expenses which were thus incurred. But,
+owing to some quarrel with Wilkes, he withdrew from his connection with
+this society, and started a new one--the Constitutional Society--which
+was founded in the interests of the American colonies. His publication
+of the doings of this society procured for him the distinction of
+another trial, the upshot of which was that he was fined L200,
+imprisoned for a year, and ordered to find bail for his good behavior
+for three years more. After two unsuccessful attempts he got into
+Parliament, and proved a very troublesome and formidable antagonist to
+ministers, as might be expected from a prominent member of the London
+Corresponding Society, which, consisting chiefly of working men, had for
+its main objects the establishment of universal suffrage and annual
+Parliaments. This society owed its origin to the French Revolution, and
+it kept up a regular correspondence with the National Convention and the
+French Jacobins. It numbered about fifty thousand members, in different
+parts of the kingdom, and disseminated its opinions by means of
+newspapers, pamphlets, and handbills, which were published at a low
+price, or given away in the streets. One of the most influential of
+these pamphlets was Tom Paine's 'Rights of Man,' for writing which he
+was tried and convicted. Erskine was his counsel, and in the course of
+his speech said:
+
+'Other liberties are held under Governments, but the liberty of opinion
+keeps Governments themselves in due subjection to their duties. This has
+produced the martyrdom of truth in every age, and the world has been
+only purged from ignorance with the innocent blood of those who have
+enlightened it.'
+
+The effect of these writings was that Government became alarmed, and a
+proclamation was issued against seditious speaking and writing. The
+_habeas corpus_ act was suspended, and political trials became the order
+of the day. Horne Tooke's was one of the latest of these trials, in
+1794. Erskine was his counsel, and was more successful than when
+defending Paine. The public excitement had by this time very much toned
+down, and Tooke was acquitted. One result of this trial was to secure
+the fortunes of Erskine; but another and much more important one was to
+establish on a firmer basis the right of free discussion and liberty of
+speech, and to check the ministry in the career of terrorism and
+oppression upon which they had entered. Looking back upon these trials,
+at this distance of time, one cannot but feel a conviction that the
+fears of the Government and the nation were absurdly exaggerated. The
+foundations of English society and British institutions were too firmly
+fixed to be easily shaken, even when the whole continent of Europe was
+convulsed from one end to the other. But the London Corresponding
+Society still continued its efforts, till its secretary was tried and
+convicted, and the society itself was suppressed, along with many other
+similar associations, by an act of Parliament, called the Corresponding
+Societies Bill, in 1799. Tooke's connection with it had ceased some time
+before; in fact, it is more than doubtful if he had ever been a
+thorough-going supporter of it in heart, or had any other object than
+that of making political capital out of it, and of indulging his
+belligerent proclivities. He died in 1812, at the age of seventy-six.
+
+In 1777 there were seventeen regular newspapers published in London, of
+which seven were daily, eight tri-weekly, one bi-weekly, and one weekly.
+In 1778 appeared the first Sunday newspaper, under the title of
+_Johnson's Sunday Monitor_.
+
+We have now arrived at the threshold of a very important event--too
+important, in fact, to be introduced at the end of an article, and which
+we therefore reserve for our next number. That event is the birth of the
+_Times_.
+
+
+
+
+THE HOUSE IN THE LANE.
+
+
+  Warm and bright the sun is shining
+    On the farmhouse far away,
+  Like a pleasant picture lying
+    Bright before my gaze all day.
+
+  And I see the tall, gray chimney,
+    And the steep roof sloping down;
+  And far off the spires rise dimly
+    Of the old New Hampshire town.
+
+  And the little footpath creeping
+    Through the long grass to the door,
+  And the hopvine's tresses sweeping
+    The low roof and lintels o'er.
+
+  And the barn with loft and rafter,
+    Weather beaten, scarred, and wide--
+  And the tree I used to clamber,
+    With the well-sweep on one side.
+
+  And beyond that wide old farmyard,
+    And the bridge across the stream,
+  I can see the ancient orchard,
+    Where the russets thickly gleam,
+
+  And the birds sing just as sweetly,
+    In the branches knarled and low,
+  As when autumns there serenely
+    Walked a hundred years ago.
+
+  And upon the east are beaming
+    The salt meadows to the sea,
+  Or the hillside pastures, dreaming
+    Of October pleasantly.
+
+  On the west, like lanterns glimmer
+    Thick the ears of corn to-day,
+  That I sowed along each furrow,
+    Singing as I went, last May.
+
+  So it hangs, that vision tender,
+    Over all my loss and pain,
+  Where the maples flame their splendor
+    By the old house in the lane.
+
+  And, beside the warm south window,
+    At this very hour of day,
+  Where the sunbeams love to linger,
+    With her knitting dropped away,
+
+  She is sitting--mother--mother,
+    With your pale and patient face,
+  Where the frosted hairs forever
+    Shed their sad and tender grace.
+
+  Are you thinking of that morning
+    Your last kisses faltered down,
+  When the summer sun was dawning
+    O'er the old New Hampshire town?
+
+  For my country, in her anguish,
+    Came betwixt us mightily:
+  'Save me, or, my son, I perish!'
+    Was her dread appeal to me.
+
+  Youth and strength and life made answer:
+    When that cry of bitter stress
+  Woke the hills of old New Hampshire,
+    Could I give my country less?
+
+  And not when the battle's thunder,
+    Crashed along our ranks its power--
+  And not now, though fiercer hunger
+    Drains my life-springs at this hour--
+
+  Would I fainter make the answer,
+    Or the offering less complete,
+  That I laid, in old New Hampshire,
+    Joyful at my country's feet!
+
+  Though your boy has borne, dear mother,
+    Watching by that window low,
+  Through the long, slow hours this hunger
+    It would break your heart to know.
+
+  Though the thought of that old larder,
+    And the shelves o'erflowing there,
+  Made the pang of hunger harder
+    Through the day and night to bear.
+
+  And the doves have come each morning,
+    And the lowing kine been fed,
+  While your only boy was starving
+    For a single crust of bread!
+
+  But through all this need and sorrow
+    Has the end been drawing nigh:
+  In these prison walls, to-morrow,
+    It will not be hard to die.
+
+  Though, upon this cold floor lying,
+    Bitter the last pang may be--
+  Still your prayers have sweet replying--
+    The dear Lord has stood with me!
+
+  And His hand the gates shall open,
+    And the home shall fairer shine,
+  That mine earthly one was given,
+    And my life, dear land, for thine.
+
+  So I patient wait the dawning
+    That shall rise and still this pain--
+  Brighter than that last sweet morning
+    By the old house in the lane!
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+  When the sunbeams, growing bolder.
+    Sought him in the noon, next day--
+  Starved to death, New Hampshire's soldier
+    In the Libby Prison lay.
+
+
+
+
+MUSIC A SCIENCE.
+
+
+Much has been written concerning music. Volume after volume, shallow or
+erudite, sentimental or critical, prejudiced or impartial, has been
+issued from the press, but the want (in most instances) of a certain
+scientific foundation, and of rational canons of criticism, has greatly
+obscured the general treatment of the subject. Truth has usually been
+sought everywhere except in the only place where she was likely to be
+found, namely, in the realm of _natural law_, and consequently, of
+science. Old tomes of Greek and Latin lore, school traditions, the usage
+of the best masters, and the verdict of the human ear (a good judge, but
+not always unperverted), have been appealed to for decisions upon
+questions readily answered by a knowledge and consideration of first
+principles resting upon the immutable laws of sound, upon numerical
+relations of vibrations. These principles are strictly scientific, and
+capable of demonstration.
+
+So long ago as 1828, the American public was told by Philip
+Trajetta,[A] that 'if counterpoint be not a science, neither is
+astronomy.' For want of proper expounders, this truth has made but
+little impression, and, while the Art of Music has advanced considerably
+among us, the Science has remained nearly stationary. In Europe,
+erudition, research, and collections of rules have not been wanting.
+Much has been accomplished, but an exhaustive work, based upon the
+simple laws of nature, has (so far as the writer can learn) never yet
+appeared. The profoundly learned and truly great Bohemian musician, W.
+J. Tomaschek, who died in 1849, taught a system of musical science
+founded upon a series of beautiful and easily comprehended natural laws.
+His logical training and wide general cultivation gave him advantages
+enjoyed by few of his profession. The result of his researches has
+unfortunately never been published, and his system of harmony is
+_thoroughly_ known only by his more earnest and studious pupils.
+
+[Footnote A: 'An Introduction to the Art and Science of Music,' written
+for the American Conservatory of Philadelphia, by Philip Trajetta.
+Philadelphia: Printed by I. Ashmead & Co., 1828.
+
+Trajetta was the son of a well-known Italian composer of the same name.
+He was a pupil of the celebrated Conservatorio of Naples, and, as I have
+been informed, was about to obtain a professorship in the Conservatorio
+of Paris, when political circumstances diverted his course to America.
+He was the friend of General Moreau and President Madison. Of noble
+appearance, fine manners, and sensitive temperament, he for some time
+received the consideration due to his talents and acquirements, but, in
+after years, was sadly neglected, and finally died in Philadelphia,
+almost literally of want. His musical knowledge perished with him; his
+manuscripts (operas, oratorios, etc.) were, I believe, all burned by him
+before his death. A sad history, and, in a land where there has been so
+little opportunity for the beet musical instruction, a strange one!]
+
+To define the provinces of _science_ and _art_, we may briefly say, that
+science is concerned with the discovery of demonstrable principles, and
+the deduction of undeniable corollaries; while art is occupied with
+expression, performance, and the creative faculty with which man has
+been endowed. Music and astronomy are both sciences, that is, founded
+upon certain fixed and ascertainable laws; but astronomy is no art,
+because man has not the power to create, or even remodel worlds, and
+send them rolling through space; while he can produce sounds, and
+arrange them in such a way as to result in significant meaning and in
+beauty, two of the chief ends of art.
+
+The music of different periods in the world's history has rested upon
+the various scales recognized during those periods as fundamental, which
+scales have been more or less complete as they have approached or
+receded from the absolutely fundamental scale as given by nature. The
+scales now in use are not identical with the natural scale, but are, in
+different degrees, _derived_ from it.
+
+The natural scale is, in its commencement, harmonic, and is found by the
+consideration of the natural progression of sound consequent upon the
+division and subdivision of a single string. It ought to be familiar to
+every student of acoustics. The sound produced by the striking or
+twanging of a single string (on a monochord) is called the tonic, and
+also, from its position as the lowest note, the bass. If we divide this
+string in half, we will obtain a series of vibrations producing a sound
+the _same in character_, but, so to speak, _doubly high in pitch_. This
+sound is named the octave, because it is the eighth note in our common
+diatonic scale. If we divide the string into three parts, the result
+will be a sound called the large fifth; a division into four parts gives
+the next higher octave of the bass; into five, gives the sound known as
+the large third, commonly called major third; into six, the octave, or
+next higher repetition, of the large fifth; into seven, the small
+seventh; into eight, the third repetition of the octave of the bass. The
+progression thus far is hence: Bass--1st octave of bass--large fifth--2d
+octave of bass--large third--1st octave of large fifth--small
+seventh--3d octave of bass. Employing the alphabetical names of the
+notes (always ascending): C--C--G--C--E--G--B flat--C.
+
+This progression may truly be called _natural_, as it is that into which
+the string naturally divides itself when stricken. An attentive ear can
+readily distinguish the succession of sounds as far as the small
+seventh. The longer bass strings of any piano of full tone and resonant
+sounding board will suffice for the experiment. These are also the
+natural notes as found, with differences in compass, in the simple horn
+and trumpet, and the phenomenon is visibly shown in the well-known
+experiment of grains of sand placed on a brass or glass plate, and made
+to assume various forms and degrees of division under the influence of
+certain musical sounds.
+
+This is not the place to elaborate the subject, or to show the
+progression of the natural scale as produced by further subdivisions of
+the string. Suffice it to say that the remaining notes of the common
+diatonic scale are _selected_ (with some slight modifications) from
+sounds thus produced. This scale cannot then be considered, in all its
+parts, as the fundamental, natural one. Nature permits to man a great
+variety of thought and action, provided always he does not too far
+infringe her organic laws. She may allow opposing forces to result in
+small perturbations, but fundamental principles and their legitimate
+consequences must remain intact.
+
+No one can ponder upon the above-mentioned harmonic foundation of the
+musical scale without conceiving a new idea of the beauty and
+significance of that glorious art and science which may be proved to be
+based upon laws decreed by the Almighty himself. The one consideration
+that, in all probability, no single musical sound comes to us alone, but
+each one is accompanied by its choir of ascending harmonic sequences, is
+sufficient to afford matter for many a wholesome and delightful
+meditation.
+
+Instead, then, of regarding our earthly music as a purely human
+invention, we may look upon it as a genuine gift from heaven, a
+_legitimate_ forerunner of the exalted strains one day to be heard in
+the heavenly Jerusalem.
+
+The laws of vibrations producing sound, of undulations giving rise to
+light and color, of oscillations resulting in heat, the movements of the
+heavenly bodies, the flow of electric and magnetic currents, the
+rhythmical beat of the pulse, the unceasing march of mind and human
+events, all lead us to the consideration of _motion_ as one of the
+greatest of secondary causes in the guidance of the universe. Do we not,
+indeed, find the same element in the Divine Trinity of the Godhead, in
+the eternal generation of the Son, and the procession of the Holy
+Spirit?
+
+
+
+
+THOUGHT.
+
+
+  The stars move calm within the brow of night:
+    No sea of molten flame therein is pent,
+    Nor meteors, from that burning chaos, blent,
+  Shoot from their orbits in a maddening flight.
+  But in the brain is clasped a flood of light,
+    Whose seething fires can find no form, nor vent,
+    And pour, through the strained eyeballs, glances, rent
+  From suffering worlds within, hidden from sight
+    And laboring for birth. This chaos deep
+  Touch thou, O Thought! and crystallize to form,
+  Resolve to order its wild lightning storm
+    Of meteor dreams! that into life shall leap
+  At thy command, and move before thy face
+  In starry majesty, and awful grace.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAR A CONTEST FOR IDEAS.
+
+
+One of those curious pamphlets, or _brochures_, as they call them, which
+the French political writers make the frequent medium of their
+discussions, was lately published at Paris, under the title of 'France,
+Mexico, and the Confederate States.' It is less a discussion of the
+Mexican question than an adroit appeal, under cover of it, in behalf of
+the Southern confederacy. It addresses itself to the enthusiastic
+temperament of Frenchmen, with the specious sophism, underlying its
+argument, that the South is fighting for _ideas_, the North for _power_.
+This is a sophism largely current abroad, and not without its dupes even
+at home. The purpose of this paper is to expose the nakedness of it.
+
+Fighting for ideas may be a very sublime thing, and it may likewise be a
+very ridiculous thing. The valorous knight of La Mancha set forth to
+fight for ideas, and he began to wage war with windmills. He fought for
+ideas, indeed, but his distempered imagination quite overlooked the fact
+that they were ideas long since dead, beyond hope of resurrection. And
+it is but the statement of palpable truth to declare that whatever ideas
+the South is fighting for now, are of a like obsolete character. The
+glory of feudalism, as a system of society, is departed; and its
+attendant glories of knight-errantry and human slavery are departed with
+it. Don Quixote thought to reestablish the one, and the South deludes
+itself with the hope of reestablishing the other. Times and ideas have
+changed since the days of feudalism, and the South only repeats in
+behalf of slavery the tragic farce of Don Quixote in behalf of
+knight-errantry. Both alike would roll back the centuries of modern
+civilization, and, reversing the dreams of Plato and Sir Thomas More,
+would hope to find a Utopia in the dark ages of the past.
+
+We do not ridicule, much less deny the power of ideas. On the contrary,
+we believe heartily in ideas, and in men of ideas. We accept ideas as
+forces of civilization, and we would magnify their office as teachers
+and helpers of man, in his poor strivings after good. Man is ever
+repeating the despondent cry of the Psalmist, 'Who will show us any
+good?' It is the mission of ideas, the ministering angels of
+civilization, to lift him into a realm of glorious communion with good
+and spiritual things, and so inspire him to heroic effort in his work.
+
+Nevertheless, while thus willing to glorify the office of ideas, we hold
+them to be of less worth than institutions. That is, ideas, of
+themselves, are of little practical value. An idea, disjoined from an
+institution, is spirit without body; just as an institution that does
+not embody a noble idea, is body without spirit. An idea, to be
+effective, must be organized; an institution, to be effective, must have
+breathed into it the breath of life, must be vivified with an idea. It
+is only thus, in and through institutions, that ideas can exert their
+proper influence upon society.
+
+This is, indeed, the American principle of reform. The thorough
+conviction of it in the hearts of the American people has thus far saved
+us from the anarchy of radicalism, which is ever agitating new ideas;
+and is now destined to save us from the bolder-faced anarchy of
+revolution, seeking to overthrow our institutions.
+
+But fighting for ideas, what does it mean? The French Revolution (that
+great abortion of the eighteenth century and of history) was fought for
+ideas, and ended in despotism. Does fighting for ideas mean despotism?
+The French Revolution went directly to the root of the question. It
+struck, as radicalism can never help but strike, at the very foundations
+of society. Hence, in France, the abolition of institutions (the
+safeguards of ideas), and the consequent check of the great principles
+which the Revolution set out to establish. Thus it is that the French
+Revolution has made itself the great example of history, warning nations
+against the crude radicalisms of theorists. It is not enough to fight
+for ideas--we must fight also for institutions. Yet society seems never
+to learn the lesson which Nature never tires of repeating, that all true
+growth is gradual. Political science must start with the first axiom of
+natural science, that 'Nature acts by insensible gradations.' Radicalism
+is not reform. Radicalism and conservatism must combine together to make
+reform. An eminent divine and scholar lately illustrated the point thus:
+'The arm of progressive power rests always on the fulcrum of stability.'
+This statement is exhaustive, and sums up the case.
+
+But let us examine the question of ideas a little more closely, and see
+whether, indeed, it is the South or the North that is fighting for ideas
+in this contest. And let us interpret ideas, according to the etymology
+of the word, to mean those things which the mind _sees_, and the
+conscience accepts and recognizes and _knows_, to be just elements, or
+principles, of civilization. For it is only such ideas that call forth a
+response from the mighty instincts of the masses. The common conscience
+of mankind tests the ideas always, as the apostle teaches us to try the
+spirits, 'whether they are of God.'
+
+
+I. THE IDEA OF POLITICAL EQUALITY.
+
+It will hardly be disputed that the great idea of the age is the
+democratic idea, or the idea of political equality. It is the idea that
+all men are kings, because equals: just as the highest idea of theology
+is, at last, that all men are ordained to be priests unto God, The
+problem of political philosophy is to make this idea a reality and fact.
+Our institutions have this for their sublime mission. We are seeking to
+demonstrate, in the American way, the essential truth of those ideas
+which failed of their perfect fruit in France, because not rightly
+organized and applied. America is the youngest and last-born of the
+nations; and to her it has been intrusted to develop the democratic idea
+in the system of representative government. Politics is thus made to
+harmonize and be at one with progress. The last-born of nations is set
+for the teaching and developing of the last-born of governmental
+principles. If, moreover, we regard America, according to the teachings
+of physical geography, as the first-born of the continents, we may
+discover another beautiful harmony. For our democratic system, in basing
+itself on the idea of political equality does, in effect, start from the
+very first principle of all true government; and this first principle of
+government thus finds its temple and home in the first of the
+continents.
+
+But let us not be misled by specious names. Let us not mistake for
+political equality the crude fancies of idealists, who would reverse the
+order of creation, and declare an equality that does not exist.
+Political equality neither assumes nor infers social equality; and
+therefore is not subversive of social order. It does not presuppose
+natural equality; and, therefore, is not contrary to palpable evidence,
+and hence unphilosophical and false. Political equality is but the
+corollary and logical result of that maxim of our system, set forth in
+our Declaration of Independence, that 'government derives its just
+powers from the consent of the governed.'
+
+Political equality is, therefore, the essential condition of our
+republic. It is the alpha and omega of our political philosophy. It is
+the first factor in the problem of our government. It is the organized
+idea of our nation, and is embodied in that nation. It is the lifespring
+of our institutions. It is the basis of our government. It is what makes
+the United States of America the hope of humanity.
+
+While, therefore, political equality may not be the _fact_ of our
+government, the nation stands for that idea. The founders of the
+government were content with affirming the great idea; and they left to
+the benignant influences of time and conscience and Christianity, under
+our institutions, the work of reducing the idea to fact. For more than
+half a century the work has gone on, and still 'goes bravely on.' In
+peace and war the same magnificent Constitution is over us, and that
+Constitution, avoiding designedly the odious word slave, is a chart and
+covenant of freedom.
+
+Directly opposed to this idea is the organization of the Southern
+confederacy--the essential and substantial antipodes of our system. The
+United States stands at the political zenith; the confederate States at
+the political nadir. The Southern confederacy denies the truth of our
+system, and asserts that political equality is a fiction and
+foolishness. To it, indeed, political equality is a stumbling block; for
+the confederate constitution bases itself openly and unblushingly on the
+principle of property in man. It has been blasphemously announced that
+this is the stone which the builders of our government refused, and that
+it is now become the headstone of the corner of a divinely instituted
+nation. The blasphemy that hesitated not to declare John Brown equal
+with Jesus Christ, is hardly worse than this; for John Brown was, at
+least, an honest fanatic. The traitorous chiefs of the Southern
+rebellion are neither fanatics nor honest men. They have stifled the
+voice of conscience, and are bad men.
+
+If their scheme of society is true, then our faith in God, and our faith
+in man as the child of God, are false faiths; 'and we are found false
+witnesses of God.' For it has been common hitherto to believe in the
+loftiest capacities of man, as the child of God, and made in the divine
+image; and this belief has had the sanction of all ages. Cheered and
+strengthened by such a belief, men have struggled bravely and steadily
+against priestcraft and kingcraft, against the absolutism of power in
+every form. The magnificent ideal of a government which the masses of
+mankind should themselves establish and uphold, has been the quickening
+life of all republics since time began. It is the noblest of optimisms;
+and, like religion, has never been without a witness in the human soul,
+ever inspiring the genius of prophecy and song, ever moving the great
+instincts of humanity. Science, fathoming all things, gave expression to
+this instinct and hope and belief of the ages in the principle of
+political equality as a basis of government. It is, in other words, the
+science of political self-government. It was reserved for the nineteenth
+century to develop the idea, for the American nation to illustrate its
+practical power and its splendid possibilities. The question of man's
+capacity for self-government in at issue now in the contest between the
+North and South, and its champion is the North.
+
+
+II. THE IDEA OF NATIONALITY.
+
+There is another idea involved in this war; and, unlike the idea of
+political equality, it is sanctioned by the precedents of all ages and
+all nations, so as to preclude any possibility that it should now be
+disputed. It bases itself on that principle of order which is heaven's
+first law, and so commends itself to men as the fitting first law of
+society. It is the idea of nationality; in a word, of government. Like
+the idea of political equality, it also finds its champion in the North.
+
+The Southern confederacy is the organized protest of anarchy against
+law. It represents in politics that doctrine in religious thought which
+declares every man a law unto himself. It kicks against the restraints
+of constitutions and laws, declaring virtually that when a law, or a
+constitution ordaining laws, ceases to be agreeable, its binding force
+is gone. For a similar and equally valid reason, some men (and, alas!
+some women), disregarding the solemn sanctions of the marriage tie, have
+been willing to set aside this first law of the family and of home. The
+Southern confederacy also makes light of national agreements, disposing
+of them according to the facile doctrine of repudiation, which its
+perjured chief once adopted as the basis of a system of state finance.
+It is eminently in accordance with the fitness of things, that the man
+who could counsel his State to repudiate its bonds, should stand at the
+head of a confederacy which began its existence by repudiating the
+sacred agreement to which the faith and fortune of all its members were
+solemnly pledged, and under the broad shield of whose protection they
+had grown prosperous and powerful. If one may be permitted to express an
+opinion different from Mr. Stephens's, it might be said that the corner
+stone of the Southern confederacy is properly repudiation. On the other
+hand, the cause of the United States is the cause of order. It is also
+the cause of freedom.
+
+It is important to note the union of these two forces of civilization;
+for hitherto, in the great wars of history, liberty has generally
+opposed itself to order, and has too often seemed to be synonymous with
+anarchy. The passions of the masses have too often burst forth, in great
+revolutions, like volcanic eruptions, carrying devastation and
+destruction in their path; The French Revolution stands for the type and
+instance of all these terrible catastrophes. This war of ours presents a
+different spectacle; for in the maintenance of it the two principles of
+freedom and order go hand in hand. It is this union of them which
+demands for the United States, in this contest, the support of both the
+great parties of civilization--the conservatives and the radicals. It
+is, therefore, preeminently a just war, because waged in the combined
+interests of liberty and order.
+
+But, it is objected, you, in effect, deny the right of revolution. No;
+on the contrary, we establish it. For the right of revolution is no
+right for any people unless they have wrongs. The right of revolution is
+not an absolute, it is a relative right. Like all such rights, it has
+its limitations--the limitation of the public law and the public
+conscience. For neither the public law nor the public conscience
+sanctions revolution for the sole sake of revolution. That brave old
+revolutionist of early Rome, Brutus, understood this well, and though
+his country was groaning under the oppression of Tarquin, he sighed for
+'a cause.' There must be a cause for revolution, and such a cause as
+will commend itself to men's consciences, as well as to the just
+principles of law and equity.
+
+Some men seem to think that revolution is, of itself, a blessed thing.
+They love change in government for the sake of change. When Julius Caesar
+invaded Gaul he found just such men, and he characterized them, in his
+terse military way, as those who 'studied new things,' that is, desired
+constantly a renewal of public affairs, or renovation of government. He
+found these men, moreover, his most ready tools, even in his designs
+against their country's liberties; and it would seem as though this
+revolutionary characteristic of the early inhabitants of Gaul had
+remained impressed upon their descendants ever since.
+
+We repeat that the right of revolution is a limited right. An absolute
+and unlimited right of revolution would only be the other extreme of an
+absolute and unlimited government; and this is not the age of absolutism
+in matters of government. Just as absolute liberty is an impracticable
+thing, in the present constitution of human beings, so the absolute
+right of revolution, which derives its highest title from the sacred
+right of liberty, is equally impracticable. We must be careful how we
+use these words liberty and revolution. Words are things in a time of
+earnest work like the present. The war is settling the old scholastic
+dispute for us, and is making us all realists. Liberty and loyalty and
+law are no longer brave words merely: they are things, and things of
+tremendous power; and some men slink away from them. But we need to
+remember that liberty does not mean license. The political liberty of
+our time, testing the truth of our representative democracy, is
+constitutional liberty. It presupposes an organic law, giving force and
+effect to it: and without this organic law, liberty is a delusion and a
+dream--a vague unsubstantiality. Liberty is like the lightning. To be
+made an agent of man's political salvation, it must be brought down from
+its home in the clouds, and put under the restraints and checks of
+institutions. The institutions protect it; it sanctifies the
+institutions. In its unchecked power, like the lightning, it annihilates
+and overwhelms man. Unchecked, it becomes a reckless license, disgracing
+history and its own fair name with such scenes as the French Revolution,
+and causing the martyred defenders of its sacred majesty to cry out, in
+bitter agony of disappointment: 'O Liberty, what crimes are committed in
+thy name!'
+
+In fact, the liberty that is valuable is the liberty that is regulated
+by law; just as the law that is valuable is the law that has the spirit
+of liberty. This is the American doctrine of constitutional liberty, as
+it has ever been expounded by our great statesmen and orators; and it
+commends itself to the sound sense of all reflecting men.
+
+In seeking, therefore, to subvert our Constitution, the South attack the
+principle of liberty, which is the basis of it, and which it guarantees.
+More than this, they attack the principle of constitutional liberty; for
+their secession is in virtue of that unchecked liberty which is license,
+that absolute liberty which is anarchy. They are not contending for the
+sacred right of revolution. It is treason against that majestic
+principle to apply it to the cause of the South. They were not
+oppressed; they were not even controlled by a dominant party opposed to
+them; their will was almost law, for it made our laws. According to the
+_theory_ of our Constitution, they possessed equal rights with all other
+sections of the Union; under the _practice_ of it, and in _fact_, they
+had gradually come to possess and were actually wielding greater power
+than all other sections. It is thus seen how vain and absurd is the plea
+that they were driven into revolution to redress wrongs, or that they
+revolted and seceded for the purpose of preserving rights. Their rights
+were neither actually assailed, nor were likely to be assailed. The
+protest of that eminent statesman of the South who afterward ('oh, what
+a fall was there, my countrymen!') became the second officer of its
+traitorous government, is conclusive evidence on this point. The
+Southern rebellion is simply and entirely the effort to secure exclusive
+control where formerly the South had a joint control. Robert Toombs
+said, in a conversation, in Georgia, in the winter of 1860-'61: 'We
+intend, sir, to have a government of our own and we won't have any
+compromises.' To the same import is the letter of Mason to Davis, in
+1856, which has lately seen the light. To one not blinded by prejudice,
+indeed, the evidences are overwhelming of a long-plotted conspiracy on
+the part of certain leading politicians, without the knowledge and
+contrary to the known intentions of the Southern people. The Southern
+rebellion is simply the attempt to break up a constitutional government,
+by politicians who had become dissatisfied with the natural and
+inevitable workings and tendencies of it, even though administered by
+themselves. It is simply, therefore, the question of anarchy that we
+have to deal with. Therefore, we say that the North is fighting for the
+idea of government.
+
+We are not seeking to perpetuate oppressive power. On the other hand,
+the rebellion is a flagrant attempt to organize oppression. We are
+seeking to perpetuate power, it is true, but a power which has stood for
+nearly a hundred years, and must continue to stand, if it stand at all,
+as a bulwark against oppression. We are vindicating our right to be, as
+a nation. We are proving our title to rank among the powers of the
+earth. We are vindicating the majesty of our supreme organic law. That
+supreme organic law is the Constitution. It ordains for itself a method
+of amendment, so as to leave no right of revolution against it. It
+admits no right of revolution, because in ordaining and establishing it
+the parties to it expressly merged that right in another principle,
+adopted to avoid the necessity of a resort to revolution. In other
+words, the right of revolution is in our Constitution exalted into the
+peaceful principle of amendment. Instead, therefore, of really being
+denied, the right of revolution is, indeed, enlarged and consecrated in
+our system of government, which rests upon that right. In vindicating
+and maintaining, therefore, that system, we vindicate and maintain with
+it the right of revolution. But we deny any such thing as a right of
+revolution for the sole sake of revolution; because it leads to anarchy.
+We deny the right of revolution for the sake of oppression; because it
+leads to absolutism. Revolution in the interests of order, justice, and
+freedom, we hold to be the only right worthy of the name, and God help
+our nation never to oppose such a revolution!
+
+Since the foregoing was written, an article in _Frazer's Magazine_, for
+last October, has fallen under the writer's notice, which discusses the
+point under consideration, and expresses similar views with those here
+stated. An extract from it is given to show how the question is viewed
+from a British stand-point:
+
+     'The principle of American independence was, that when a
+     considerable body of men are badly governed and oppressed by a
+     government under which they live, they have a right to resist and
+     withdraw from it; and unless everything in the history of England
+     of which we have been accustomed to boast, from Magna Charta to the
+     Reform Bill, was a crime, this principle is perfectly true. To deny
+     to the United States, as most of our public writers did deny to
+     them, the right of putting down resistance not justified by
+     oppression, and to impose upon them the duty of submitting at once
+     to any resistance whatsoever, whether justified or not, was
+     equivalent to maintaining that chronic anarchy was the only state
+     of things which could exist in North America.'
+
+It is refreshing to read in a British periodical so clear a statement of
+this just distinction. We cannot forbear to cite another extract from
+the same article, because it confirms so clearly the argument of this
+paper:
+
+     'The Dutch fought the Spaniards for their hearths, homes, and
+     churches; the French fought all Europe with famine and the
+     guillotine behind them, and empire and plenty in front. The English
+     in India had the pride of superior race and the memory of
+     inexpiable injuries to urge them against the Sepoys; but if ever a
+     nation in this world sacrificed itself deliberately and manfully to
+     an idea, this has been the case with the Americans.'
+
+What is this idea to which we have thus bravely sacrificed ourselves,
+even a phlegmatic Englishman being the judge? It is the idea of the
+nation--the idea that the nation is the gift of God, to be cherished and
+defended as a sacred trust; and that we can no more rid ourselves of its
+obligations than we can rid ourselves of the obligations of home or the
+church. To the reckless assertion of those who say that the United
+States is, in this war, actuated by the lust for power, and is not moved
+by the inspiration of great ideas, we oppose the foregoing candid
+statement of a third party, and one not very likely to be prejudiced in
+our favor. It is the testimony of an unwilling witness, and therefore of
+great weight.
+
+Summing up the points that have been considered in this paper, it seems
+clear that so far as the war is a contest for ideas, the North, standing
+for the United States, has the right of it. For, first, we contend for
+political equality, the grand idea of the age and the ages;
+comprehending within itself, and presupposing, as a logical premise, the
+grander idea of liberty. Thus also we vindicate the rights of man, as a
+fact of government and as a principle of political philosophy. And,
+secondly, we contend for the sacred right of order, as opposed to the
+destructive radicalism of revolution for the sake of oppression and not
+in the name of liberty.
+
+We believe that our nation has been born, in the providence of God, to
+the magnificent mission of developing the democratic idea, of the rule
+of the people--the idea that every man is a king, and that humanity
+itself is royal because made in the image of God. The nation is now
+vindicating that mission before the world. In the success of it all the
+great ideas that cheer on our poor humanity in its toiling
+march--liberty, justice, political order--confirmed and made sure by a
+government organized for the purpose of securing and maintaining them,
+are bound up; and--with that mission those ideas, as organized powers,
+must live or die.
+
+
+
+
+HINTS TO THE AMERICAN FARMER.
+
+
+It does not so much signify what a man does for a livelihood, provided
+he does it well. The people must sooner or later learn this catholic
+doctrine, or one element of republicanism will never be knit into our
+character. The doing it well is the essential point, whether one builds
+a ship or writes a poem. Does the American farmer do his work well? And,
+if not, wherewith shall he be advised, persuaded, encouraged, and taught
+to do better or the best?
+
+It is estimated that three fourths of the people of the United States
+are agriculturists, and nearly all the rest laborers of some sort
+dependent upon them. Every economist knows that the interests of
+agriculture, manufactures, and commerce are one and indivisible. He who
+by word or deed helps one, helps all, and thereby moves civilization
+onward one step at least. Before our Government takes hold of the
+condition of agriculture in the United States as a state measure, and
+even after it comes up to the hour when we shall have a Secretary of
+Agriculture, Manufactures, and Commerce in the cabinet, after the manner
+of France, Italy, and Prussia, the farmer himself, individually, must
+work some important and radical changes in his social and industrial
+polity, and prepare himself for the generous assistance of a wise and
+beneficent Government.
+
+The farmer supports every other material interest. Standing upon the
+primary strata of civilization, he bears on his broad hands and stout
+shoulders the 'weight of mightiest monarchies.' Daniel Webster calls him
+'the founder of civilization.'
+
+Is it at all necessary that the spring in the hills should be cool,
+clear, and pure, and wind its way over a granitic soil, through green
+meadows, beneath the shading forest, into a sandy basin, to form a
+beautiful lake in a retired, rural retreat? If so, is it at all
+necessary that the moral virtues of the founders of society should be
+duly educated, cultured into the soul, leaving the impress on generation
+after generation, of honor, of order, of manliness, of thrift? The
+condition of the farmers is the postulate by which the sagacious
+economist will foretell the future prosperity of the nation they
+represent. This is what the American farmer should have presented to him
+from every stand-point. It is lamentable that this vocation should be so
+sadly represented by the most of those who are engaged in it.
+
+This occupation of farming is the noblest work which can engage the
+attention of man. Off of his farm, whether it be large or small, the
+farmer, by diligent and intelligent cultivation, can gather whatever he
+or the world needs; what the world needs for its manufactures and
+commerce; what he needs for his personal comfort, pleasure, or the
+gratification of his natural tastes;--the two crops which furnish the
+daily bread to the material and spiritual nature of man;--the green
+fields, than which nothing is more beautiful; the sweet song of birds,
+their gay plumage, their happy conferences, their winged life, making
+melodious the woods and fields; the sky, ever above us, ever changing,
+grand at morning, magnificent at evening, hanging like a gracious
+benediction over us; the flowers, ever opening their petals to the sun,
+turning their beauty on the air, to delight, instruct, and bless
+mankind;--indulging his taste for art, in the plan of his farm and
+buildings, their claims to architectural skill; in the planting of his
+fruit and ornamental trees, 'in groves, in lines, in copses;' in the
+form and make of his fishponds, shady walks, grottos, or rural seats for
+quiet resort for study, comfort, pleasure, or rest.
+
+The ancients paid great attention to the cultivation of the earth. Many
+of the best men of Greece were agriculturists. Mind was given to it, and
+great progress was made in the improvement of implements; in the method
+of cultivation, and in the additional yield of their farms. The Romans
+continued for a long period to improve on the state of agriculture as
+they received it from the Grecians, until the political condition of
+their country destroyed all freedom and independence of action and
+thought. The best and greatest men of all ages and countries, statesmen,
+scholars, kings, and presidents, have loved it, followed it, and labored
+for its advancement. Do noble minds stoop to ignoble vocations, and
+become identified with them? This nation, not yet a century old, can
+boast, as among the statesmen-farmers, of Washington, Adams, Jefferson,
+Patrick Henry, Franklin, Jackson, Calhoun, Clay, and Webster, and many
+others, the least of whose greatness of character was not that they
+loved nature, or knew the charm of agricultural pursuits. The occupation
+has become sanctified by their devotion to it.
+
+We all know the sympathy and love of the late lamented Prince Albert for
+the vocation of farming, and the liberality with which, on his model
+farm, experiments were verified which in any manner might contribute to
+the interests of the farmer. He even entered the lists for the prize for
+the best stock at the yearly exhibitions of the Royal Agricultural
+Society. There is something very suggestive of nobility in this vocation
+of farming, when the brightest intellects of the nation bow in homage to
+the strength of mother earth, and seek by severe thought, study, and
+experiment, to assist a further yield of her kindly fruits, or persuade
+her to bestow a portion of her bounties, so long withheld, upon the
+wooing husbandman. It marks agriculture as the first and highest calling
+for the development in the highest degree of the nation and of mankind.
+
+Every man may have his plot of ground, in the cultivation and adornment
+of which he may realize the pleasure which accompanies the calling of
+amateur farmer, horticulturist, or florist, in which he is in constant
+communication with nature and her beauty. 'In it there is no corruption,
+but rather goodness.'
+
+How kindly nature seems to have dealt with some of the old farmers who
+even now tread the broad earth, beloved and reverenced by all who know
+them! What simplicity and purity of speech; what honesty of manner; what
+kind dispositions; what charity of judgment; what tenderness of heart;
+what nobility of soul seem to have concentrated in each one of them!
+They are the gifts of nature, gathered, developed, interpreted,
+personified in man. They are our aristocracy. From them through
+generation after generation shall flow the pure blood of the best men in
+republican America. Ages hence, the children who enjoy the privileges of
+this republic, and endeavor to trace their lineage through history to
+find the fountain of their present American stock, will as surely meet
+with no unpleasant encounter, nor be compelled to forego the search from
+fear of mortification, as they trace their family line through long
+generations of intelligent American farmers. Superficial 'Young America'
+and 'our best society' may smirk, snicker, sneer, and live on, slaves to
+fashion and the whims of Mrs. Grundy, in their fancied secure social
+position for all time. But ere long the balance of man's better
+judgment, the best society of great men, and representatives for history
+of a great people, will weigh in opposite scales the artificialities,
+the formalities, the selfishness of popular social circles, against the
+honesty, the naturalness, the simplicity, the worth of the practical
+lovers of nature; and the result shall be the inscription upon the wall
+which made their prototypes of old tremble, reflecting upon them also
+its ghostly and terrific glare. Were it not for the infusion almost
+constantly going on, from the country, of fresh blood into the veins of
+the diseased body politic in our largest cities, destruction, disgrace,
+and financial ruin would early mark the spot where once flourished a
+proud and sinful people.
+
+In farming, man has to do with nature. Out of doors he spends the
+greater portion of his life. His intelligent eye takes in the beautiful
+objects of land and sky, sea and mountain; his refined ear, by practice
+and cultivation, delights in the exquisite harmony of the birds, the
+music of the wind, the murmuring of the sea, the sighing amid the
+forests;--the beauty of the flowers, springing in the utmost profusion
+at his feet--peeping at early spring from beneath the lately fallen
+snow, an earnest that life yet remains under the clods of apparently
+exhausted nature--their continued offerings through the long and sultry
+days of summer; the trees putting on their rich and glowing robes at
+autumn, ripening for their restoration to the bosom which gave them life
+and which yielded them to us for a season, clothing all the hills,
+valleys, and mountains with the gorgeous colors from 'nature's royal
+laboratory.' Who can say this beauty and this pleasure are for nought?
+The intelligence which observes and loves these sights hesitates not,
+nor can it be deterred from reflecting upon their Source. The farmer,
+turning the sod with the plough, and dropping the grain into the newly
+turned furrow, expects life amid the decay of the clod. The favorable
+sunshine and shower, the gentle dews and heat of summer bring forth,
+after a partial decay of the seed, the blade, the ear, and after that
+the full corn in the ear. The perfume of the newly turned earth
+exhilarates and refreshes the spirits of the laborer and what appears
+the hardest work becomes a welcome task. Toil here has its immediate
+recompense. Always peaceful, always contented and cheerful, always kind,
+there is no want of companions whose presence is delightful and never
+burdensome. The oriole, the swallow, the sparrow, the cawing crow, the
+chipmuck, or the squirrel will not desert him. He can always rely upon
+their presence while engaged in the necessary preparation for the
+harvest. The flowers are with him, and the perfume from the blossoms in
+the fields and orchard will fall like incense upon his receptive spirit.
+His thoughts will turn involuntarily to the Origin of all Good, from
+which have come to him, in so great abundance, the favorable conditions
+for happiness and peace.
+
+Contemplating in silence and alone, away from the distractions of busy
+life in cities, the disappointments of politics, and the petty
+disturbances and quarrels of a more crowded existence, his thoughts
+become pure, holy, and sacred.
+
+The tree grows slowly but surely beside his door, under whose shadows he
+has rested at the close of the summer's day, and, with his family about
+him, reflected upon his finished labors, and planned the work for
+to-morrow. The wonderful power of the Creator, and the matchless
+argument for His existence, as displayed in the beauty of the heavens,
+are spread before him. Its presence is a blessing to him. This tree, a
+century ago the tiny seed of the beautiful elm, which floated perhaps on
+some zephyr, or, tossed by some summer gale, dropped noiselessly into
+its cradle at this door--fortune favored its growth, and protected it
+from the injuries of chance or intent. It patiently grew and spread its
+hospitable arms, as if to embrace the surrounding neighborhood, and is
+now a protection and safeguard, a blessing and a continued promise of
+the watchfulness and care of the Father. This honest, grateful, simple
+soul has learned from it the beauty of a patient spirit. It has been
+always to him the generous companion of his weary moments, never failing
+to return at spring the beauty so ruthlessly torn at autumn; rendering
+to his just soul the contentment of the well-doer in this world's works,
+yet still progressing, growing, and enlarging in its sphere of
+usefulness and trust.
+
+The regularity in the procession of the seasons, the dependence and
+faith inculcated by their never-failing return of the bounties asked of
+them for his proper observance of their demands, have rendered order a
+controlling power with him, and punctuality has become a virtue.
+
+The large independence of the concerns of men has not made him
+autocratic in manner, nor indifferent to progress in the condition of
+mankind. Faithful to the duties of the good citizen, and to himself, he
+has not forgotten his moral duties toward the social polity, and neither
+state, nor church, nor school, nor family, but feels the influence of
+his tender care. Health has been always with him and on his side.
+Cleanliness is throughout his household, and scrupulous care of the
+manners, neatness, and thrift which make a good farmer's home so
+cheerful, is his.
+
+Such is the intelligent, patient, thorough cultivator of the soil. Is
+there not a nobility of nature in it, far surpassing that which the
+false standard of society gives to man? What profession, business, or
+vocation of any sort engaged in by man, carries in its legitimate course
+these joys, this peacefulness, this hope? Here are not the anxieties,
+nor perplexities, nor fears, nor losses attendant upon the occupations
+in the more crowded haunts of business. Plenty fills his garners;
+happiness attends his footsteps; peace crowns his life.
+
+We would that this good soul might truly represent every farmer on our
+soil. We are compelled to acknowledge the shortcomings of this class of
+persons, upon whom so much depends, and, by showing in which direction
+their prominent faults lie, endeavor to persuade them to accept a better
+standing in the social state, where they are so much needed.
+
+A man shows in his daily acts the early education of his home. The
+impressions there made upon him in his young and growing life are
+proverbially deep and abiding. The circumstances which develop the
+character of the good farmer in one town, are the circumstances which
+develop the good farmer wheresoever he may be; but the circumstances
+which make so many of our farmers at this day, coarse in speech, vulgar
+in manners, untidy in dress and in the arrangement of their farms and
+their habitations, ignorant, thoughtless, thriftless, indifferent,
+wasteful, lazy, are not arbitrary circumstances, but pliant and
+yielding, willing instruments, in the hands of good workmen, to raise,
+elevate, and instruct all who can be brought within their influence.
+
+The agriculturist who combines with his knowledge and skill in farming a
+refined taste for the simple elegancies which may form a part and parcel
+of every well-ordered homestead, will often grieve at the neglect,
+indolence, and ignorance, shown by the too sad condition of many of our
+so-called American farms.
+
+The farmhouse of this waste place we call a farm, is located as near as
+possible to the dusty highway which passes through the country.
+Unpainted, or unwhitewashed, without a front fence, without shade trees
+or flowers near it, or by it, it stands like a grim and sombre sentinel,
+guarding a harsh and lonely existence, at once a prophecy and a warning.
+There is no home feeling in it. Everything connected with the internal
+movements or the external management of the place is in full view: the
+woodpile with its chips scattered about over a radius of fifty yards; a
+number of old, castaway, and condemned vehicles lie where they were left
+after their last use; mounds of rubbish and old brushwood, weeds, soiled
+clothing, farming tools, and implements of husbandry, are here and
+there, uncared for, unnoticed, and neglected. The poultry, pigs, and
+cattle he possesses, wander about the door, at once front and rear, or,
+unobstructed by any serviceable fence, trespass upon the newly planted
+field or unmown meadows, getting such living as fortune places in their
+way. The barn may be without doors, the barnyard without a gate or bars,
+and in full view from every passer by. The sty and the house drain--in
+fact, every necessary out-building--is in plain sight to the public, on
+the sunny side of the house, or as near the front of it as is possible
+for circumstances to permit. The airs of summer and of autumn come to
+the delighted senses of the residents 'impregnated with the incense' of
+these sweet surroundings, which, like Gray's unseen flower, are not
+destined
+
+  'To waste their sweetness on the desert air.'
+
+And who are the delighted occupants of this charming spot? The external
+appearance and condition of things too sadly betray their character. The
+man is coarse and vulgar in speech and in manners; untidy, careless, and
+uncleanly in person and dress; ignorant, lazy, and perhaps intemperate,
+with no thought beyond the gratification of his bodily wants and
+desires. Slang words and obscene are his daily vocabulary; selfishness
+his best-developed trait, and want the only incentive for his labor. His
+partner is like unto him, or worse, either by nature or association.
+Without taste, modesty, good sense, or natural refinement, she
+accompanies her dear Silas in his round of life, sympathizing in his
+lowness, his common feeling, and his common complaints--slatternly in
+her dress, rude in speech, coarse in manner, slovenly in her household
+duties. These two creatures, with their children, too often call
+themselves farmers, agriculturists, or tillers of the soil. The poet
+Cowper well describes them in his poem representing 'the country boors'
+gathered together at tithing time at the residence of their country
+parson.
+
+These thriftless people complain that they can make no money on their
+farms, and but barely a living; and for the very good reason that the
+man or woman who attempts to carry on a farm in this way through the
+year deserves no money or profit, nor barely a living from such a method
+of work.
+
+He was born here. The new soil, at the time his father purchased it,
+gave him a living, and a good one, too; but this heir to the ancestral
+acres unfortunately married the slatternly daughter of a loafing
+neighbor, and their conservatism will not allow them to vary from the
+track of cultivation so well worn by his father, and forbids his
+learning any other methods, or accepting any new ideas from any source,
+though they may be sustained in the practical advantage gained thereby
+by the most successful farmers in his town, and may be learned any time
+from the Weekly agricultural gazette published at the capital of his
+State.
+
+Book farming he scouts. The books upon agriculture, which every good
+farmer should read and study, and prove, will cost him perhaps ten
+dollars. By them his farm shall become his pride, his support, his
+wealth. But this dull man cannot, or will not, learn that in the
+dreaminess of his humdrum life, passed for thirty years or more upon his
+farm, capital, industry, science, thought, and study have been at work,
+and everything has been done, thus far, which can be done to make the
+earth more gladsome, and the hearts of the children of men more thankful
+to the Giver and Bestower of all our blessings. Away, then, with this
+cant, prejudice, and sneering about 'book farming.' As well cry out
+against book geography, or book philosophy, or book history, or book
+law. Chemistry, botany, entomology, and pomology unite the results of
+their researches in their various directions, and, while seeking
+apparently different ends, yet converge toward the grand centre of a
+systematic and scientific agriculture.
+
+This laggard has not yet learned that it is his business and duty to
+cultivate the earth, and not exhaust it; to get two blades of grass this
+year where but one blade grew before; to gather thirty bushels of corn
+from the acre which produced but twenty bushels last year; to shear
+three pounds of wool off the sheep which five years ago gave but two
+pounds, and so on. He thinks to see how near the agricultural wind he
+can move and his sails not shake, or with how little labor he can carry
+his farm through the year and not starve. The poverty of the whole
+establishment, man and wife, and children, and stock, their
+uncleanliness and unhealthfulness, are but the just results of such a
+mode of living. They have their deserts. 'Ye cannot gather grapes of
+thorns, nor figs of thistles.'
+
+This illustration may seem exaggerated, the example too extreme. We
+would that its semblance could not be seen in all wide America.
+
+What power, what influences, or what teachings will work the change in
+the habits of life of those who thus pretend to cultivate the earth?
+What shall bring them to a clearer realization of their position, their
+duties, their opportunities, their prospects? This lethargy of
+ignorance, indifference, and laziness must be shaken off and laid aside
+in the immediate future, by study and education, by active interest and
+participation in every discovery or invention which benefits
+agriculture; by the exercise of sound judgment in the choice of stock or
+crops for the farm; by economy in the disposition of everything
+available upon the estate which may be brought into profitable employ;
+by thrift in every operation which concerns the success of the vocation
+as tillers of the soil, and by temperance and frugality in the habits
+and character of the family living. 'Concentrate your labor, not
+scatter it; estimate duly the superior profit of a little farm well
+tilled, over a great farm half cultivated and half manured, overrun with
+weeds, and scourged with exhausting crops: so we shall fill our barns,
+double the winter fodder for our cattle and sheep, by the products of
+these waste meadows. Thus shall our cultivation become like that of
+England, more systematic, scientific, and exact.'
+
+An Englishman belies one of the best traits of his national character if
+he denies himself all participation in rural life. It is a part of
+greatness to seek a gratification of this innate longing for 'the
+pursuit which is most conducive to virtue and happiness.' Edmund Burke,
+the patriotic and most philosophical statesman of England, writing to a
+friend in 1798, says:
+
+     'I have just made a push, with all I could collect of my own and
+     the aid of my friends, to cast a little root in the country. I have
+     purchased about six hundred acres of land in Buckinghamshire, about
+     twenty-four miles from London. It is a place exceedingly pleasant,
+     and I propose, God willing, to become a farmer in good earnest.'
+
+Great skill, ingenuity, and success in cattle breeding, and in drainage,
+have resulted, in England, from a long series of experiments, extending
+through many years; and great and wonderful progress in the discovery
+and analysis of soils and manures. The scientific men of France and
+Germany have also added much to this invaluable information of how to
+get more bread and meat from the earth, and do much, in their researches
+in the direction of pomology and entomology, to increase the
+agricultural knowledge of the world. America gladly tenders her most
+gracious homage to these devoted men, and hastens to add her leaf to the
+chaplet which binds their brow. It is to their persistent efforts, to
+their unshaken faith, that 'agriculture has become elevated to the
+dignity of a science.'
+
+This vocation of farming in good earnest, with success and profit, is
+not fun, but downright work. It is work, but no more persistent,
+constant, studious, or thoughtful than that which is demanded by any of
+the other callings in life, none of which has or can have such
+delightful compensations as this. Careful experiments should be made in
+chemistry, analyzing thereby each germ, plant, flower, and fruit into
+its component parts; analyzing the soil of our farms, and learning
+thereby its various wants, its value, and what crop it will best
+support, and of which it will give the largest yield; teaching us what
+manures are the most valuable, how prepared, and how to be used for the
+greatest profit. Botany and entomology can unite their labors and
+discover the germs and development of our grasses, and the insects which
+feed upon and destroy them; ornithology will teach us the habits of
+birds, and their value to us as protectors of our gardens and fields;
+and pomology will instruct us in the culture of fruit. Thus shall
+science and philosophy enlarge their duties and help the farmer in his
+devotion to his noble work. The public press shall herald far and wide
+each new discovery, each new suggestion, and the results of each new
+experiment, not in the technical language of the schools, but clothed in
+the simplest vernacular, which alone can make such study valuable to
+practical men.
+
+Heretofore too much attention has been paid to the 'bread-producing
+capacity' of our country, to the neglect of its as necessary
+'meat-producing capacity.' Hence much of our best bread-producing soil
+is becoming exhausted. The old tenants are leaving their once fertile
+fields, now poor in soil yielding comparatively nothing, and are
+emigrating to the West, beyond the banks of the Mississippi and Missouri
+rivers, trusting that the natural richness of the 'new hunting grounds'
+they seek and find is inexhaustible. This policy has made barren most
+of the State of Virginia, and has begun to tell sadly, in the diminished
+crops, upon the farming districts of Ohio, Indiana, and the other near
+Western States.
+
+To be the successful introducer in a new country of a new and improved
+breed of cattle, requires capital, sound judgment, study, and patient
+toil. Much must be considered with reference to the peculiarities of the
+soil and climate, and of the animals, with regard to the object for
+which they are needed, whether the dairy, the plough, or the shambles.
+Happily, America is not without men whose wealth, intelligence, tastes,
+and sagacity have enabled them to perceive our present wants in this
+respect, and who have assisted in preparing for them. The great wealth
+of these gentlemen has been well expended in the outlay and risk
+attending the extensive and valuable importations of the best breeding
+cattle and sheep which they have made into this country from time to
+time from England and the continent of Europe. We are already reaping
+the advantages of the presence of the valuable animals embraced in these
+numerous importations. Scattered as they are throughout the country,
+infusing the best blood of Europe's choicest stock into our 'natives,'
+they so improve our cattle and sheep as to raise them to the highest
+degree of excellence and value. It is a circumstance of which every
+American may be proud, that Mr. Thorne has been so successful in
+breeding, from his imported stock, cattle which he has sent to England,
+and which have there borne off the prize as the best breeders in the
+world.
+
+There are no indigenous breeds of either cattle or sheep in this
+country. The only animals of the bovine race found here when this
+continent was discovered were the buffalo and the musk ox. The 'natives'
+are a heterogenous mixture of various breeds, introduced from time to
+time for different purposes, and allowed to cross and recross, breed
+in-and-in, and mingle as chance or convenience dictated. The cattle and
+sheep were procured at different times from the continent of Europe,
+from England, and the Spanish West Indies, to supply the present wants
+of labor and food. The first cattle brought here are said to have been
+introduced by Columbus. The Spaniards afterward brought over others,
+from whence no doubt sprang the wild cattle of Texas and California.
+About the year 1553, the Portuguese took cattle to Newfoundland, of
+which, however, no traces now remain; and in the year 1600, Norman
+cattle were brought into Canada. In the year 1611, Sir Thomas Gates
+brought from Devonshire and Hertfordshire one hundred head of cattle
+into Jamestown; and thirteen years later, Thomas Winslow imported a bull
+and three heifers into Massachusetts. Thus was begun the importation of
+cattle for service and food into this country, which has continued to
+this day, not always, however, with the just discrimination as to the
+geographical and climatic peculiarities of the different animals which
+was and is necessary for the highest success of the movement. Happily,
+the various agricultural societies and publications, contributed to and
+supported by our most intelligent farmers, are diffusing wider and
+wider, each year, more scientific and thorough notions upon this subject
+of breeding, among our agricultural citizens. An admirable and carefully
+written article upon 'Select Breeds of Cattle and their Adaptation to
+the United States,' appeared in the United States Patent Office Report
+for 1861, to which we would call our readers' attention. It should be
+studied by every person interested in the economical prosperity of our
+country. It conveys, in a simple and perspicuous style, the results of
+the various experiments in breeding, in both England and America, which
+latterly have become so judicious and accurate as to be now almost based
+upon principle. Hereafter there will be no apology, but that of
+stupidity and ignorance, for the farmers who neglect the most obvious
+rules of success in their occupation. The idea, now become well known,
+must become a fact with them, and they must raise no more poor horses or
+cattle or sheep, because it costs no more to raise good ones, which are
+much more profitable either for the dairy, for service, or for meat.
+
+'Animals are to be looked upon as machines for converting herbage into
+money,' says Daniel Webster. 'The great fact to be considered is, how
+can we manage our farms so as to produce the largest crops, and still
+keep up the condition of our land, and, if possible, place it in course
+of gradual improvement? The success must depend in a great degree upon
+the animals raised and supported on the farm.'
+
+It is auspicious for our country that the interest in sheep raising is
+becoming wider and deeper. 'The value of wool imported into the United
+States, in 1861 was nearly five millions of dollars. The value of
+imported manufactured woollen goods was more than twenty-eight millions
+of dollars, less by nearly ten millions of dollars than the importations
+of 1860. Taking the last three years as a basis of calculation, we have
+had an annual importation of from thirty-five to forty-five millions of
+pounds of manufactured and unmanufactured wool, being the product of
+thirteen millions of sheep.' The annual increase of population in the
+United States requires the wool from more than three million sheep.
+There is an annual deficiency of wool of from forty to fifty millions of
+pounds, so there need be no fear of glutting the market by our own
+production. The investigation might be extended much further. It remains
+for the farmers and legislators to see to it that we receive no
+detriment by the long continuance of this home demand without the home
+supply. The instrument is in their own hands.
+
+Our farmers must teach their children the potential influence of
+kindness to dumb animals and to birds. By it they will conquer what of
+viciousness, ugliness, or wildness is often the character of their
+beasts of burden; and they will find, by the almost total eradication of
+the destructive flies and insects which are the scourge of their crops,
+the value of the lives of birds and toads to their farms. Setting aside
+for the present the consideration of the moral virtues which are thus
+inculcated, and which are so consistent with a proper devotion to this
+'benign art of peace,' we mention a few facts which carry the argument
+for their worth in themselves.
+
+The birds and toads devour insects, worms, and grubs, and wherever they
+are absent, grubs, worms, and insects are greatly multiplied, and the
+crops suffer. The harvests of France, in 1861, suffered so by the
+ravages of the insects which it is the function of certain birds to
+destroy, that the subject attracted the notice of the Government, and a
+commission was appointed to inquire into the matter and report what
+legislation was expedient. The commission had the aid of the experience
+of the best naturalists of France, M. St. Hilaire, M. Prevost, and
+others. Their preliminary report gives three classifications of birds:
+First, those which live exclusively upon insects and grubs; second,
+those which live partly upon grubs and partly upon grain, doing some
+damage, but providing an abundant compensation; third, the birds of
+prey, which are excepted from the category of benefactors, and are
+pronounced to be noxious, inasmuch as they live mostly upon the smaller
+birds. If the arrangements of nature were left wholly undisturbed, the
+result would be a wholesome equilibrium of destruction. The birds would
+kill so many insects that the insects could not kill too many plants.
+One class is a match for the other. A certain insect was found to lay
+two thousand eggs, but a single tomtit was found to eat two hundred
+thousand eggs a year. A swallow devours about five hundred insects a
+day, eggs and all. A sparrow's nest in the city of Paris was found to
+contain seven hundred pairs of the upper wings of cockchafers. It is
+easy to see what an excess of insect life is produced when a
+counterpoise like this is withdrawn; and the statistics collected show
+clearly to what an extent the balance of nature has been disturbed. Thus
+the value of wheat destroyed in a single season, in one department of
+the east of France, by the _cicidomigie_, has been estimated at eight
+hundred thousand dollars.
+
+The cause of this is very soon told. The French eat the birds. The
+commissioners, in their report, present some curious statistics
+respecting the extent to which the destruction of birds in France has of
+late been carried. They state 'that there are great numbers of
+professional huntsmen, who are accustomed to kill from one hundred to
+two hundred birds daily; a single child has been known to come home at
+night with one hundred birds' eggs; and it is also calculated and
+reported that the number of birds' eggs destroyed annually in France is
+between eighty millions and one hundred millions. The result is that the
+small birds in that country are actually dying out; some species have
+already disappeared, while others are rapidly diminishing.' These facts
+contain valuable suggestions to our own countrymen. In this instance, as
+in many such like, observation is a better and more profitable master
+than experience.
+
+Our farmers can increase the value of their estates, and bring pleasure
+and peace to their homes, by more special attention to the outward
+adornment of their dwellings; by cultivating a garden, planting orchards
+of the best selected fruit, and trees for shade, shelter, and ornament,
+about their farms and along the adjoining highway. He who plants a tree,
+thereby gives hostages to life, but he who cuts one down needlessly, is
+a Vandal, and deserves the execration of every honest man for all time.
+Learn not to value the bearded elm, 'the murmuring pines and the
+hemlocks,' the stalwart oak, or the beautiful maple, by cubic measure,
+but by the 'height of the great argument' they force upon us by their
+presence, their beauty, and their power. Plant for to-day, and for your
+children; plant 'for another age,' and thereby do 'a good office' to the
+coming generations of men. No man but is better for living in the
+presence of great trees. In one of those most delightful volumes of the
+_Spectator_, we find a paper, written by the pure and noble Joseph
+Addison, in which are well told the pleasures and profits of planting:
+'It must,' he says, 'be confessed that this is none of those turbulent
+pleasures which are apt to gratify a man in the heats of youth; but if
+it be not so tumultuous, it is more lasting. Nothing can be more
+delightful than to entertain ourselves with prospects of our own making,
+and to walk under those shades which our own industry has raised.
+Amusements of this nature compose the mind, and lay at rest all those
+passions which are uneasy to the soul of man, besides that they
+naturally engender good thoughts, and dispose us to laudable
+contemplations.'
+
+What charming associations linger about the homes of the great men of
+our history, whose tastes led them into the country! The grand old trees
+at 'Monticello,' at 'Ashland,' at 'Fort Hill,' at the 'Hermitage,' at
+'Sunnyside,' at Cooperstown, at Marshfield, at Mount Vernon, seem to
+take upon themselves somewhat of 'the voice of the old hospitality'
+which graced their presence in the days that are passed; and the visitor
+now wanders with emotions of awe and sadness, in paths by copses and
+groves and streams, in those quiet retreats of nature, planted and
+preserved by the noble souls which loved them so wisely and so well.
+
+Place the dwelling at a distance from the road, and in the position, if
+possible, from whence the best view of the whole farm can be obtained,
+mindful also of the charms which nature has spread before you, of
+mountain, or hill, or plain, or river, or sea. Plant the orchard on a
+slope toward the south, and not too far away. The barn and yard and
+outbuildings should be behind the house, or far enough away to protect
+the inmates from any annoyance therefrom. Let the approach to the house
+be by a long avenue, bordered by majestic trees, planted by your own
+hands. The lawn or garden should be well cared for in front. The
+buildings should be painted or whitewashed, and over the house may
+clamber and beautify it the woodbine, the jessamine, the honeysuckle, or
+the rose. What attachments to the homestead shall thus inweave
+themselves about the hearts of those whose interests and life are cast
+with it--and still more, of those who go forth from it, by taste,
+inclination, or bias, into the more bustling centres of competition and
+trade!
+
+The garden should receive a careful and generous attention from the
+female portion of the household. Says Lord Bacon: 'God Almighty first
+planted a garden; and indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is
+the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man; without which buildings
+and palaces are but gross handyworks; and a man shall ever see that when
+ages grow to civility and elegance, men come to build stately sooner
+than to garden finely; as if gardening were the greater perfection. I do
+hold it in the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be gardens for
+all the months in the year; in which severally things of beauty may be
+there in season.'
+
+Following Lord Bacon's advice, let there be such a plan and arrangement
+of it, that it shall always be attractive, and yield a continual round
+of beauty through the year. Thus planted, the garden 'will inspire the
+purest and most refined pleasures, and cannot fail to promote every good
+affection.'
+
+With all the advantages which the discoveries of natural science offer
+to the farmer of this century, it will little avail his successors
+unless he strives to educate his children. It is a very mistaken and
+lamentable notion--now, alas! too prevalent--that a liberal education is
+necessary alone to those who intend to enter upon a professional life.
+May the time be not far distant when farming may become a profession
+which takes its rank with the rest, if it does not lead them, in the
+public opinion. It was first supposed, very singularly, that the clergy
+ought only to be favored with an education in science and the classics;
+afterward the legal profession arose to sufficient dignity for it; and
+finally the physician, the guardian of our health, the student and
+philosopher of our bodies, arose to his noble position in the affairs of
+this life; while the agriculturist, the supporter of all we have or wish
+for here, the basis of our very civilization, is pushed aside or
+forgotten, and the demand upon him for the best culture of the earth
+altogether neglected. We have to congratulate ourselves that our
+Government has left it with each State by itself, whether, by the
+non-acceptance of its gift of public land as foundations for
+agricultural colleges, they will longer forego the opportunity of giving
+our young farmers a thorough scientific agricultural education. Until
+such a system of study can be arranged, let the farmers themselves
+commence the work of self-education. Agricultural societies and farmers'
+clubs, in which are gathered together the best farmers of the States,
+offer the best opportunity for intercommunication, thorough discussion
+and observation, and dissemination of all new discoveries, facts, or
+theories which may be made beneficial to all. These are the only means
+by which farmers can compare opinions and found sound judgments for
+their future labors. What would be the financial condition of the other
+great economical interests, if merchants and owners never consulted
+together, nor marked the course and policy for their mutual guidance?
+The best agricultural papers and magazines which favor each farmer's
+peculiar interest, whether of stock, or fruit, or dairy, or grain,
+should be subscribed for and read, and preserved for future reference.
+Our best farmers can do a great deal, by contributing facts of their own
+knowledge, to raise the standard and worth of such periodicals. It only
+needs the feeling of personal interest in this matter to procure for
+each farmer whatever books are necessary to a perfect understanding of
+his special work. They must soon learn that the education of their
+children is the best investment they can make of the value of their
+services.
+
+They should be taught, by example, by reading, and observation, the
+general success in life of those who plant and water and reap; and the
+general failure of those who attempt to gain an early or a late fortune
+in money by entering the marts of more active and more crowded
+competition. Most men fail to make the fortunes which the dreams of
+youth placed before them in such brilliant colors. In the present
+condition of the various professions, except farming, they only succeed
+whom fortune favors by special mental gifts or special personal
+friendships.
+
+The peace, quiet, and contentment of a cheerful home; the charms of
+nature, free, unobstructed, lovely; the generous bestowal of an
+'unostentatious hospitality;' the patient spirit of him who waits upon
+the accustomed return of the seasons; the attachment, the joy and
+pleasure of looking upon the broad acres, the shaded walks, the
+beautiful landscape, planted, improved, and protected by his own hand;
+the herds of favorite cattle and sheep which love his coming, the kindly
+tones of his voice, the gentle stroke of his hand; the respect paid by
+friends and neighbors to the venerable man who waits only the
+termination of a virtuous life; the faith in 'the sacred covenant, that
+while the earth remaineth, sunshine and shower, summer and winter,
+seed-time and harvest shall not fail,' are his who lives through long
+years devoted to this, rightly followed, noblest of all
+occupations--farming.
+
+'He that goeth forth in humility, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless
+come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.'
+
+
+
+
+APHORISMS.
+
+NO. IV.
+
+
+Innovations in religion are very commonly deprecated; but there is one
+in practice which might very safely be attempted, i.e., to _obey_ the
+gospel. This has been seldom done, even among those that bear the
+Christian name. How few, even among the members of churches, do really
+mould their lives from day to day by the teachings of our Lord and his
+disciples!
+
+This same thought may be presented in another form. Let us remark, then,
+that while the true teachings of religion are found in the Bible, yet a
+new edition of them seems wanted, viz., the actual obedience of those
+that adopt them as their creed and rule of life. To make these doctrines
+manifest in the lives of any considerable number among men, would give
+them a power such as they have rarely had.
+
+We have had a great many translations of the Holy Scriptures; the best
+of all would be their translation into the daily practice of Christian
+people.
+
+
+
+
+THE WILD AZALEA.
+
+A MEMORY OF THE HIGHLANDS.
+
+
+  Up on the hills where the young trees grow,
+  Looking down on the fields below--
+  Long-leaved chestnuts and maples low;
+  Up where lingereth late the sun,
+  When the soft spring day is nearly done,
+    Dying away in the west;
+  Up where the poplar's silver stem
+  Bends by the marsh's grass-fringed hem,
+    By the soft May wind caressed;
+
+  Up where the long, slim shadows fall
+  From the scarlet oak and the pepperidge tall,
+  Where the birds and the squirrels tirelessly call,
+  Where in autumn the flowers of the gentian blue
+  Look up with their eyes so dark and true,
+    Up into the hazy sky,
+  Dreaming away as the red leaves drop,
+  And the acorn falls from its deep brown cup,
+    And the yellow leaves float by;
+
+  Up where the violets, white and blue,
+  Bloom in sunshine and the dew,
+  Tenderly living their still life through,
+  Where the deep-cut leaves of the liverwort grow,
+  And the great white flowers of the dogwood blow
+    Over the pale anemones;--
+  Cometh a perfume spicily shed
+  From the wild Azalea's full-wreathed head
+    Lifted among the trees.
+
+  There where the sun-flecked shadows lie,
+  Quivering light as the breeze laughs by,
+  And the leaves all dance 'neath the soft spring sky;
+  Blossoming bright when the twigs grow green,
+  And the sunlight falls with a tenderer sheen
+    Than comes with the summer noon,
+  Blossoming bright where the laurel gleams,
+  Lifting its sculptured flowers to the beams
+    Of the warm, glad sun of June.
+
+  And so it smiles to itself all day,
+  Where it stands alone by the mountain way,
+  Hearing the merry young leaves at play;
+  And soft on the stones its smile is cast,
+  And it laughs with the wind as it saunters past,
+    The fresh, young wind of May:
+  And happily thus it lives its life
+  Till the woods with sounds of summer are rife,
+    When it silently passes away.
+
+  And once again to the hills we go,
+  When the sun shines warm on the fields below
+  Where the midsummer lilies are all aglow,
+  When shadows are thicker, and scarcely the breeze
+  Stirs a leaf on the gleaming poplar trees,
+    And low are the streamlet's tones;
+  For the bright Azalea we look in vain,
+  And long for its smile to gladden again
+    Our hearts and the old gray stones.
+
+
+
+
+A PAIR OF STOCKINGS.
+
+FROM THE ARMY.
+
+
+Kate was sitting by the window. I was sitting beside her. It may be well
+to state here that Kate was a young lady, and that I am a young
+gentleman. Kate had large, lustrous dark eyes, which just then were
+covered with fringed, drooping eyelashes. She had braids of dark hair
+wreathed around her head, a soft pink color in her cheeks, and a rosebud
+mouth, womanly, fresh, and lovely. Kate was clad in a pink muslin dress,
+with a tiny white ruffle around her white throat. She was armed with
+four steely needles, which were so many bright arrows that pierced my
+heart through and through. Over her fingers glided a small blue thread,
+which proceeded from the ball of yarn I held in my hand.
+
+Kate was knitting a stocking, and surely, irrevocably she was taking me
+captive; already I felt myself entangled by those small threads.
+
+We were the inmates of a boarding house. Kate was a new boarder. I had
+known her but a few weeks.
+
+The evening was warm, and I took up a palm-leaf fan, and fanned her. She
+thanked me. I looked at her white hands, gliding in and out under the
+blue yarn; there were no rings on those fingers. I thought how nicely
+one would look upon that ring finger--a tiny gold circlet, with two
+hearts joined upon it, and on the inside two names written--hers and
+mine. Then I thought of Kate as my wife, always clad in a pink muslin
+dress, always with her hair in just such glossy braids, and knitting
+stockings to the end of time.
+
+'Kate shall be my wife,' I said to myself, in rash pride, as I fanned
+her more energetically. I did not know that the way to a woman's heart
+was more intricate than a labyrinth; but I had the clue in the blue yarn
+which I held in my hand. I little knew what I undertook. Kate was shy as
+a wild deer, timid as a fawn, with an atmosphere of reserve about her
+which one could not well break through.
+
+'For whom are you knitting those stockings, Miss Kate?' I asked.
+
+'For a soldier, Mr. Armstrong,' she replied, her eye kindling with
+patriotism.
+
+'If I will be one of the Home Guards, and stay and take care of you,
+will you knit me a pair?'
+
+'Never. I feel abundantly able to take care of myself. I wish you would
+enlist, Mr. Armstrong. When you do, I will knit you a pair.'
+
+'It would be almost worth the sacrifice,' I replied.
+
+'Sacrifice! Would you sacrifice yourself for a pair of stockings? Have
+you not patriotism enough to offer yourself upon the altar of your
+country? If I were a man, I would enlist in a moment, though I had ten
+thousand a year, and a wife and seven children.'
+
+I will confess to you, gentle reader, that I was not such a craven as I
+appeared. The fires of patriotism were smouldering in my bosom, and I
+needed only a spark from Kate's hand to light them into life and action.
+Kate rose and left the room, her cheek glowing with spirit, and I sat
+and fanned the chair where she had sat, for a few moments. It was too
+bad to break up the delicious _tete-a-tete_ so soon.
+
+I lingered in the parlor after the gas was lighted, but she did not
+come. I put on my hat, and went out. I would enlist. I had meant to do
+so all along. I had managed my business in reference to it--the only
+drawback was the thought of Kate. How pleasant it would be to remind her
+of her promise, and ask her for the stockings and herself with them!
+Visions of tender partings and interesting letters floated around me at
+the thought.
+
+There was a meeting in Tremont Temple in aid of recruiting. Flags hung
+drooping from the ceiling, bands of music were in attendance in the
+galleries, and distinguished and eloquent speakers occupied the
+platform. I do not think their eloquence had much to do with my action,
+for I had resolved beforehand. I went forward at the close of the
+meeting, and signed my name to the roll as a Massachusetts volunteer. A
+pair of hands in the gallery began the thunder of applause that greeted
+the act. I looked up; Kate was there, clapping enthusiastically. But who
+was that tall fellow in uniform by her side, with a tremendous mustache,
+and eyes which flashed brighter than her own? He, then, was the soldier
+for whom she was knitting the stockings. The rest of the meeting was a
+blank to me.
+
+I watched, and followed them to the door of the boarding house. I hid
+myself behind a lamp post, as they paused on the steps. She turned
+toward him, her face all aglow with feeling.
+
+'Good by, Frank. Take good care of yourself. I'm glad to have you
+enlist, but so sorry to lose you,' and tears trembled in her eyes.
+
+'Good by, Kate, darling; and after the war is over, I will come home and
+take care of my bird,' and he turned away.
+
+'Stop Frank!'
+
+'Well, birdie?'
+
+'Those are not fit words to dismiss a soldier with. Here, I'll give you
+a watchword. Think of it, Frank:
+
+"Never give up! though the grapeshot may rattle
+  Or the thick thunder cloud over you burst,
+Stand like a rock! in the storm or the battle,
+  Little shall harm you, though doing their worst!"
+
+'Brave words, Kate. You deserve a kiss for them.' It was given. I turned
+away in desperation, and walked onward, not caring where I went.
+Policemen watched me, but the lateness of the hour made no difference to
+me. I could have walked all night. At length I came to a bridge. The
+moon was shining upon the rippling water. It looked cold and dark,
+except where the ripples were. There would be a plunge, and then the
+water would flow on over my head. Why not? I did not know I had loved
+her with such devotion. It was all over now. She belonged to another. My
+foot was on the rail. I thought then of the name I had signed to the
+roll. 'No, Jacob Armstrong, you have no right to take the life which
+you have given to your country.' I turned away toward my boarding place,
+full of bitterness and despair. A tiny glove was on the stairs. I picked
+it up and pressed it passionately to my lips, and cursed myself for the
+act as I threw it down again.
+
+The days that followed were weary enough. I made arrangements for my
+departure with all possible speed. I avoided Kate, and was cold and
+haughty in my salutations. I am very dignified naturally. I can be an
+iceberg in human shape when I wish. One evening I went into the parlor
+before tea, and took up a newspaper. Kate came in. I put on my dignity,
+and tried to be interested in politics, though I could think of nothing
+but the dainty figure opposite, and the gleaming needles in her hands. I
+struggled with the passionate, bitter feelings that rose at the sight of
+her, and was calm and cold.
+
+'I am glad you have enlisted, Mr. Armstrong, she said.
+
+'Thank you,' I replied stiffly.
+
+'I suppose you are very busy making preparations?'
+
+'Very.'
+
+'And you are going soon?'
+
+'I hope so.'
+
+Kate left the room. I wished she was back again a thousand times. How
+kind and shy she looked. If there was a gleam of hope--that tall fellow
+in uniform--no, she might stay away forever. And yet my heart gave a
+great leap as she appeared again.
+
+'I want to show you a photograph, Mr. Armstrong,' she said, blushing and
+smiling. I took it. It was the officer in uniform, with the tremendous
+mustache and flashing eyes.
+
+'It is my brother Frank. Does he look like me?'
+
+I started as if I had been shot.
+
+'Miss Kate, I want to take a walk now, and I should like some company.
+Will you go with me?'
+
+'Hadn't we better have tea first?' she said, smiling. 'The bell has just
+rung.'
+
+I do not know how that tea passed off, whether we had jumbles or
+muffins, whether I drank tea or cold water; but I knew that opposite me
+sat Kate, radiant in pink muslin, and when the interminable tea was
+over, we were going to take a walk together. I was thinking what I
+should say. I am generally a sociable and genial man, and it seems to me
+that on this particular evening I was assaulted with a storm of
+questions and remarks.
+
+'Don't you think so, Mr. Armstrong?' asked the lady on my right, the
+lady on my left, and the gentleman in black at the end of the table. I
+aimed monosyllables at them promiscuously, and have at present no means
+of knowing whether they fitted the questions and remarks or not.
+
+In the midst of a mental speech, I was vigorously assaulted by Mary, the
+table girl, and, looking about me in surprise, I caught a glimpse of the
+boardinghouse cat just disappearing through the door:
+
+'And sure, Mr. Armstrong, yer must be blind. The blow was intended for
+the cat, and she had her paw in yer plate.'
+
+Perhaps you do not know how pleasant it is to take a walk with a little
+gloved hand resting upon your arm, little feet keeping step with yours,
+and a soft voice chiming in with everything you say. I was happy on that
+particular night. We walked on the Common. The stars shone, and the long
+branches of the old elms swayed to and fro in the moonlight, as we
+passed under them. It was just the time and place that I liked.
+
+'Miss Kate,' I began, 'in a few days I shall be far away from home and
+friends, amid danger and death, fighting the battles of my country. I
+have known you but a short time; but that time has been long enough to
+show me that I love you with my whole soul. I offer my hand and heart to
+you. May I not hope that you will sometimes think of the soldier--that
+I may carry your heart with me?'
+
+'I think you may hope,' she replied, gently; 'but this is very sudden. I
+will give you a final answer to-morrow morning.'
+
+When we got home, we went into the dining room, and I helped her to a
+glass of ice water, and hoped she would linger there a moment; but she
+was shy, and bade me a kind good night. I didn't know till the next
+morning what she was about the rest of the evening; when she met me on
+the stairs, placed a small parcel in my hands, saying:
+
+'My answer, Mr. Armstrong,' and was off like a fawn.
+
+I opened it, and saw the stockings, blue, and warm and soft. A note was
+stitched in the toe of one of them:
+
+     MY DEAR FRIEND: I said I was knitting the stockings for a soldier.
+     I began them, with a patriotic impulse, for no one in particular. I
+     finished them last night, and knit loving thoughts of you in with
+     every stitch, I have always liked you, but I do not think I should
+     have given you my hand if you had not enlisted. I love you, but I
+     love my country more. I give you the stockings. When you wear them,
+     I hope you will sometimes think of her who fashioned them, and who
+     gives herself to you with them. Yours, KATE.
+
+I reverently folded the tiny note, after having committed it to memory,
+and repeated its contents to myself all the way to my office, beginning
+with 'Mr. Armstrong,' and ending with 'Yours, Kate.' I was in a state of
+extreme beatification. Kate was mine, noble girl! She loved me, and yet
+was willing to give me up for her country's cause. And I began to repeat
+the note to myself again, when, on a crossing, I was accosted by a
+biped, commonly known as a small boy:
+
+'Mister, yer stocking is sticking out of yer pocket.'
+
+I turned calmly around, and addressed him:
+
+'Boy, I glory in those stockings. I am willing that the universe should
+behold them. My destiny is interwoven with them. Every stitch is
+instinct with life and love.'
+
+'Don't see it, mister! Glory, hallelujah!' and he ended his speech by
+making an exclamation point of himself, by standing on his head--a very
+bad practice for small boys. I advise all precocious youngsters, who may
+read this article, to avoid such positions.
+
+We broke camp, and started off in high spirits. I paraded through the
+streets with a bouquet of rosebuds on my bayonet. I found a note among
+them afterward, more fragrant than they.
+
+When our regiment left Boston, it went from Battery Wharf. I went on
+board the Merrimac. Kate could not pass the lines, and stationed herself
+in a vessel opposite, where we could look at each other. I aimed a
+rosebud at her; it fell into the green water, and floated away. The
+second and third were more successful. She pressed one to her lips and
+threw it back again; the other she kept. Afterward, with the practical
+forethought which forms a part of her character, she bought out an apple
+woman, and stormed me with apples. The vessel left the wharf, and I
+looked back with eyes fast growing dim, and watched the figure on the
+dock, bravely waving her white handkerchief as long as I could see.
+
+Well, it is hard for a man to leave home and friends, and all that he
+holds dear; but I do not regret it, though I have to rough it now. I am
+writing now beside a bivouac made of poles and cornstalks. My desk is a
+rude bench. I have just finished my dinner of salt junk and potatoes. On
+my feet is that pair of stockings. Profanity and almost every vice
+abounds; there are temptations all around me, but pure lips have
+promised to pray for me, and I feel that I shall be shielded and
+guarded, and kept uncontaminated, true to my 'north star,' which shines
+so brightly to me--true to my country and my God.
+
+
+
+
+LITERARY NOTICES.
+
+
+     SORDELLO, STRAFFORD, CHRISTMAS EVE, AND EASTER DAY. By ROBERT
+     BROWNING. Boston: Ticknor & Fields.
+
+The contents of this volume, though now first presented to the American
+public, are not the latest of the author's writings. It completes,
+however, Messrs. Ticknor & Fields' reprint of his poetical works. His
+growing popularity calls for the present publication. We would fain
+number ourselves among the admirers of the husband of Elizabeth Barrett;
+the man loved by this truly great poetess, to whom she addressed the
+refined and imaginative tenderness of the 'Portuguese Sonnets?' of whom
+she writes:
+
+'Or from Browning some 'Pomegranate,' which, if cut deep down the
+middle, shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity.'
+
+Before the man so loved and honored, we repeat, we would fain bow in
+reverence. But it may not be; we cannot receive him as a _true_ poet--as
+in any poetic quality the peer of his matchless wife. We hear much of
+his subtile psychology--we deem it psychological unintelligibility. His
+rhythm is rough and unmusical, his style harsh and inverted, his imagery
+cold, his invective bitter, and his verbiage immense. His illustrations
+are sometimes coarse, his comparisons diminish rather than increase the
+importance of the ideas to which they are applied. His pages are
+frequently as chaotic as those of Wagner's music; leaf after leaf may be
+turned over in the despairing search for a single crystallized idea.
+Fiery sparks, flying meteors, inchoate masses of nebulous matter are
+around us, but no glass in our possession can resolve them into ordered
+orbs of thought and beauty. If a man have anything to say, why not say
+it in clear, terse, vigorous English, or why use worlds of vigorous
+words to say nothing. Some years ago, one of Browning's books was sent
+for review to Douglas Jerrold, who was then just recovering from an
+attack of brain fever: after reading it for some time, and finding that
+he failed to arrive at any clear idea of the meaning of its lines, he
+began to fear that his brain was again becoming confused, and, handing
+it to his wife with a request that she would look over it in his
+absence, went out to drive. Returning in the evening, his first question
+was: 'Well, my dear, what do you think of Browning's poem?' 'Bother the
+gibberish,' was her indignant reply, 'I can't understand a word of it.'
+'Thank God,' exclaimed Jerrold, clapping his hands to his head
+triumphantly, 'then I am not actually insane.'
+
+
+     DALETH; OR, THE HOMESTEAD OF THE NATIONS. Egypt Illustrated. By
+     EDWARD L. CLARK. Boston: Ticknor & Fields.
+
+A book produced without regard to expense, and of great beauty. Paper
+and print are excellent. Its illustrations are nearly one hundred in
+number. It has both woodcuts and chromo-lithographs exquisitely
+rendered, reproducing the modern scenery and antiquities of Egypt from
+photographs or authentic sources. Mr. Clark writes well, has travelled
+through the land of the Nile, and tries to bring before the minds of his
+readers vivid pictures of primeval times, for which Egypt presents such
+peculiar and valuable materials. Our writer is a scholar as well as a
+traveller, and has added to his personal experience considerable
+research into the authorities from whom many of his facts are derived.
+He is also an enthusiast, and somewhat of an artist, and gives us
+glowing pictures of the strange old land of the Pharaohs. He says:
+'Daleth, the ancient Hebrew letter ([Hebrew: **-j]), signifies a door.
+From whatever country we look back along the pathway of the arts and
+sciences, in the dim distance tower the mighty gateways of Egypt--the
+homestead of the nations--beneath which the rites of religion and the
+blessings of civilization have passed out into the world; and with
+grateful respect we confess that on the banks of the Nile stands the
+true Daleth of the Nations.' This idea forms the clew to the whole book,
+and from hence is derived its title, Daleth. We heartily recommend it to
+our readers. It merits attention. We quote the last sentence of the
+short preface: 'That these fragments of the past may reflect for the
+reader the sunshine they have gathered in three thousand years, is the
+earnest wish of the author.'
+
+
+     THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES, SONGS, SERVICES, AND SPEECHES OF PRIVATE
+     MILES O'REILLY (47th Regiment, New York Volunteers). "The Post of
+     Honor is the Private's Station." With Illustrations by Mullen. From
+     the authentic records of the New York _Herald_. New York: Carleton,
+     publisher, 413 Broadway.
+
+This book had established its reputation before it was issued in book
+form; and will be widely circulated. Our soldiers and sailors, our
+politicians of all parties will read it. It is evidently from the pen of
+one familiar with the varied phases of American life and the public
+service. Many of its songs are full of genuine humor. 'Sambo's Right to
+be Kilt' is excellent. 'The Review: A Picture of our Veterans,' is full
+of pathos. 'Miles' is familiar with Admiral DuPont and the monitors in
+front of Charleston, and is equally at home in Tammany Hall and
+Democratic Conventions. The publisher describes himself as unable to
+supply the rapid demand for the book. It is witty, satirical, and
+humorous; though we occasionally wish for somewhat more refinement.
+
+
+     ELIZA WOODSON; OR, THE EARLY DAYS OF ONE OF THE WORLD'S WORKERS. A
+     Story of American Life. A. J. Davis & Co., 274 Canal street, New
+     York.
+
+We cannot tell our readers, with any degree of certainty, whether the
+tale before us is truth or fiction. It seems to be the simple history of
+an uneventful life, a record rather of the growth of character than an
+attempt to create the fictitious or tragical. If true it has the
+interest of fiction; if fictitious, it has the merit of concealing art
+and closely imitating nature. It contains the inner-life history of a
+deserted and much-abused little girl, from childhood to maturity. It is
+detailed, moral, conscientious, and interesting.
+
+
+     BABBLE BROOK SONGS. By J. H. MCNAUGHTON. Boston: Oliver Ditson &
+     Co.
+
+A volume of original songs and poems. That it comes from the University
+Press is sufficient guarantee of its superb typography. Of these lyrics
+we prefer 'Without the Children.'
+
+
+     RUBINA. New York: James G. Gregory, 46 Walker street.
+
+A close and detailed picture of New England life and character. The poor
+young orphans have a dismal time of it among their hard and coarse
+relatives. The sterner forms of Puritanism are well depicted. The scene
+at the funeral of poor Demis, with its harrowing and denunciatory sermon
+over the corpse of the innocent girl, is powerful and true. The
+character of the 'help,' Debby, is drawn from life, and is admirably
+conceived and sustained. The book is, however, melancholy and
+monotonous. So many young and generous hearts beating themselves forever
+against the sharp stones of the baldest utilitarianism; so many bright
+minds drifting into despair in the surrounding chaos of obstinate,
+stolid, and perverse ignorance! It is a sadder book than 'The Mill on
+the Floss,' of which it reminds us. How the aspiring and imaginative
+must suffer in an atmosphere so cold and blighting!
+
+
+     COUNSEL AND COMFORT: Spoken from a City Pulpit. By the Author of
+     'The Recreations of a Country Parson.' Boston: Ticknor & Fields.
+     1864.
+
+A book truly of good counsel and cheerful comfort. The strong
+personality of the writer sometimes interferes with the expansiveness of
+his views, as for instance in the discussion on pulpits; but it may
+perhaps be to that very strength of personality that we owe the force
+and directness of the lessons he so encouragingly inculcates.
+
+
+     A WOMAN'S RANSOM. by FREDERICK WILLIAM ROBINSON, Author of
+     'Grandmother's Money,' 'Under the Spell,' 'Wild Flower,' 'Slaves of
+     the Ring,' 'The House of Life,' etc. Boston: Published by T. O. H.
+     P. Burnham. New York: H. Dexter Hamilton & Co., Oliver S. Felt.
+
+This work is published from advance sheets purchased from the English
+publisher. It is an excellent novel, full of incident and interest. The
+plot is artistic, and fascinates the reader to the end. The element of
+mystery is skilfully managed, increasing until the final _denoument_,
+which is original and unexpected. We commend it to the attention of the
+lovers of fascinating fiction.
+
+
+     INDUSTRIAL BIOGRAPHY: IRON WORKERS AND TOOL MAKERS. By SAMUEL
+     SMILES, Author of 'Self-Help,' 'Brief Biographies,' and 'Life of
+     George Stephenson.' 'The true Epic of our time, is not _Arms_ but,
+     _Tools_ and _Man_--an infinitely wider kind of Epic.' Boston:
+     Ticknor & Fields.
+
+This book may be considered as a continuation of the Series of Memoirs
+of Industrial Men introduced in Mr. Smiles's 'Lives of Engineers.' The
+author says that 'while commemorating the names of those who have
+striven--to elevate man above the material and mechanical, the labors of
+the important industrial class, to whom society owes so much of its
+comfort and well-being, are also entitled to consideration. Without
+derogating from the biographic claims of those who minister to intellect
+and taste, those who minister to utility need not be overlooked.'
+
+Surely the object of this book is a good one. The mechanic should
+receive his meed of appreciation. Our constructive heroes should not be
+forgotten, for the heroism of inventive labor has its own romance, and
+its results aid greatly the cause of human advancement. Most of the
+information embodied in this volume has heretofore existed only in the
+memories of the eminent mechanical engineers from whom it has been
+collected. Facts are here placed on record which would, in the ordinary
+course of things, have passed into oblivion. All honor to the brave,
+patient, ingenious, and inventive mechanic!
+
+
+     THE WIFE'S SECRET. By MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS, Author of 'The Rejected
+     Wife,' 'Fashion and Famine,' 'Tho Old Homestead,' 'Mary Derwent,'
+     etc., etc. Philadelphia: T. B. Peterson & Brothers, 306 Chestnut
+     street.
+
+MRS. STEPHENS has considerable ability in the construction of her plots
+and their gradual development. Her stories are always interesting. The
+wife's secret is well kept, and the _denoument_ admirably managed. The
+fatal want of moral courage, the suffering caused by mental weakness,
+the strength of love, the sustaining power of intellect, are portrayed
+with ability in the book before us. The moral is unexceptionable
+throughout.
+
+
+     THE VEIL PARTLY LIFTED, AND JESUS BECOMING VISIBLE. By W. H.
+     FURNESS, Author of 'Remarks on the Four Gospels,' 'Jesus and His
+     Biographers,' 'A History of Jesus,' and 'Thoughts on the Life and
+     Character of Jesus of Nazareth.' Boston: Ticknor & Fields. For sale
+     by D. Appleton & Co., New York.
+
+Investigations into the life and character of Christ Jesus are
+everywhere multiplying around us. Attempts to account for the marvels of
+His glorious Being on a simply natural plane are made in apparent good
+faith, and with considerable ability. Mr. Furness approaches his subject
+with reverence: he has studied the man, Jesus, with his heart. The human
+phases of His marvellous character are elaborated with skill and
+patience. He regards Christianity as a 'natural product, a product
+realized, not against, or aside from, but in the established order of
+things; that were we competent to pronounce upon the purposes of the
+Infinite Mind, which we are not, we might say that, so far from His
+being out of the course of nature, nature culminated in Christ, and
+that, of all that exists, He is the one being profoundly human,
+preeminently natural.' In the dove which descended at His baptism, Mr.
+Furness 'discovers the presence of a common dove divested of its
+ordinary appearance, and transfigured by a rapt imagination into a sign
+and messenger from heaven.' He says 'there is no intrinsic impossibility
+in supposing that Jesus was naturally possessed of an unprecedented
+power of will, by which the extraordinary effects attributed to him were
+produced.' 'The bloody sweat is an evident fiction--how could blood have
+been distinguished in the dark?' He pronounces the story of 'the wise
+men from the east an evident fable.' Mr. Furness puts no faith in the
+miraculous conception, but believes in the resurrection. He says: 'Bound
+by irresistible evidence to believe that Jesus was again alive on that
+memorable morning, I believe it will hereafter appear that He came to
+life through the extraordinary _force of will_ with which He was
+endowed, and by which He healed the sick and raised the dead; or, in
+other words, that consciousness returned to Him by an action of the
+mind, in itself no more inscrutable in this case than it is in our
+daily waking from sleep.'
+
+We deem that there is more difficulty in admitting that Christ rose from
+the dead by _extraordinary force of will_, than in admitting the truth
+of the record that He was the only Son of the Father, with full power
+over life and death. We thank Mr. Furness for the skilful manner in
+which he has brought to light the infinite tenderness and divine
+self-forgetfulness of the Redeemer, but we cannot think he has succeeded
+in lifting the veil of mystery which surrounds the birth, miracles,
+crucifixion, resurrection, and atonement of the Redeemer. Meantime let
+Christians who accept revelation in its integrity, throw no stumbling
+blocks in the way of earnest and candid inquirers, such as Mr. Furness.
+Is it not true that, dazzled by the _Divine_, we have been too little
+touched by the exquisite, compassionate, faithful, and child-like
+_human_ character of our Master? Truth seeks the light, and it cannot
+fall too fully on the perfect; every ray serving but to reveal some new
+perfection. Let those of fuller faith rejoice in the beauties forever
+developing in the character of the Holy Victim. Let them patiently pray
+that those who love Him as an elder brother, may gaze upon His majesty
+until they see in Him the risen God.
+
+We have found this book interesting and suggestive. It is disgraced by
+none of the flippant and irreverent sentimentalism which characterizes
+M. Renan.
+
+Contents: 'Wherein the Teaching of Jesus was New;' 'How the Truth of the
+History is made to appear;' 'His Knowledge of Human Nature;' 'His
+Wonder-working Power;' 'His Child-likeness;' 'The Naturalness of His
+Teaching;' 'The Naturalness of certain Fables found in His History;'
+'The Genesis of the Gospels.'
+
+
+     THE CAMPANER THAL, and Other Writings. From the German of JEAN PAUL
+     FRIEDRICH RICHTER. Boston: Ticknor & Fields. For sale by D.
+     Appleton & Co., New York.
+
+The "other writings" in the work before us are: Life of Quintus Fixlein,
+Schmelzle's Journey to Flaetz, Analects from Richter, and Miscellaneous
+Pieces. The Life of Quintus Fixlein and Schmelzle's Journey to Flaetz are
+both translated by that ardent admirer of Richter's genius, Thomas
+Carlyle; a sufficient guarantee that the spirit and beauty of the
+original are fully rendered. The Analects are translated by the
+brilliant writer, Thomas de Quincey.
+
+Richter died while engaged, under recent and almost total blindness, in
+enlarging and remodelling the Campaner Thal, or Discourses on the
+Immortality of the Soul. 'The unfinished manuscript was borne upon his
+coffin to the burial vault; and Klopstock's hymn, _Auferstehen wirst
+du!_ 'Thou shalt arise, my soul!' can seldom have been sung with more
+appropriate application than over the grave of Jean Paul.'
+
+The works of Jean Paul require no praise from the hands of the reviewer;
+his name is a true 'open sesame' to all hearts. Not to know him argues
+one's self unknown. Some of his finest passages are to be found in the
+Campaner Thal. It was written from his heart, and embodies his
+conviction of immortality. How tender its imagery, how rich its
+consoling suggestions, how all-embracing its arabesques, how original
+its structure! That its author should grow in favor with our people,
+would be a convincing proof of their own progress. So many different
+powers unite in him, that he has been well styled by his own people 'The
+only.' The vigor and rough strength of the man, with the delicacy and
+tenderness of the woman; glowing imagination with wondrous stores of
+erudition; fancy with exactness; the most loving heart with the keenest
+insight into the foibles of his fellows; the wit of a Swift with the
+romance of a Rousseau--but why attempt to describe the indescribable, to
+give portraits of the Proteus who changes as we gaze upon him?
+
+Meanwhile, we heartily commend Jean Paul to the notice of our readers,
+and thank the publishers who are placing his great works within the
+reach of those who cannot read him in the original.
+
+
+     THE WIND HARP, and Other Poems. By ELLEN CLEMENTINE HOWARTH.
+     Philadelphia: Willis P. Hazard.
+
+If we have been correctly informed, the author of this book is an Irish
+woman living in Trenton, N. Y., whose husband is a laboring man, and,
+like herself, in humble circumstances. She has quite a large family,
+lives in a small tenement, and is obliged to labor daily for a
+subsistence for herself and family. When she came to this country from
+Ireland, she could scarcely write a grammatical sentence; and all the
+information of history and the classics which she has, she has derived
+from such books as have accidentally fallen in her hands. She is
+extremely modest and retiring, and does not seem to be at all conscious
+of the genius with which she is endowed. Mrs. Howarth possesses the
+poetical talent of the Irish race. Her rhythm is musical, flowing, and
+pure; her thoughts gentle and womanly; her diction refined; her form
+good; her powers of imitation great. What she wants now is more
+self-reliance, that she may write from the inner life of her own
+experience. Her poems lack originality. Let her not fear to dip her pen
+in her own heart, and sing to us the joys and sorrows of the poor. Burns
+were a better study for her than Moore; the Corn Law rhymer than Poe.
+With her talents and the cultivation she has acquired, her familiarity
+with the hopes, fears, and realities of a life of labor will give her
+great advantages as the poetess of the faithful, suffering poor.
+
+
+BOOKS RECEIVED TOO LATE FOR REVIEW.
+
+LYRICS OF A DAY; OR, NEWSPAPER POETRY. By a Volunteer of the U. S.
+Service. New York: Carleton, publisher, 413 Broadway.
+
+RED-TAPE AND PIGEON-HOLE GENERALS: as Seen from the Ranks during a
+Campaign in the Army of the Potomac. By a Citizen Soldier.
+
+     'We must be brief when traitors brave the field.'
+
+New York: Carleton, publisher, 413 Broadway.
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S TABLE.
+
+ADELAIDE A. PROCTER AND JEAN INGELOW.
+
+
+Extremes ever meet, and our age, which is preeminently occupied with
+physical science and material comfort and aggrandizement, is also
+eminently productive in good poetry. There should be no antithesis
+between the words _physical science_ and _poetry_. The secrets of the
+Universe, the ways of God's working, are surely the highest poetry; but
+the greater number of scientists have willed a divorce between the
+material and the spiritual, and decry that very imaginative faculty
+which, in the case of Kepler, bore such wonderful fruits for science.
+Facts are very well, and induction is also well, but science requires
+the aid of the creative and divining imagination to order the details
+and draw thence the broader and higher generalizations. Let us hope that
+the good common sense of the in-coming half-century will annul the
+divorce, and again unite on a solid basis spheres that should never have
+been so far sundered.
+
+Meantime, we cannot but remark the number of good poems meeting us on
+every hand, not only from writers known to fame, but also from the
+living tombs of obscure country newspapers. We know it is the fashion to
+deride such productions, and sneer at the 'would-be poets.' Let critics
+speak the truth fearlessly, but let them never prefer the glitter of a
+self-glorifying search for faults to the more amiable but less piquant
+occupation of discovering solid thought, earnest feeling, and poetic
+fancy. It is well to discourage insipidity, impudent pretension, and
+every species of affectation; but critics are, like authors, fallible,
+and not unfrequently present glaring examples of the very faults they
+condemn. In any case where the knife is needed, let it be used firmly
+but gently, that, while the patient bleeds, he may feel the wound has
+been inflicted by no unloving, cynical hand, but was really intended for
+his ultimate good. Let the instrument be finely tempered, and neither
+coarse nor rough. We can all recall a few cases where a rude treatment
+has effected a cure, but only by draining the life blood of the victim,
+or by turning every better human feeling into bitterness and corroding
+gall. Words of blame intended to fall upon the hearts of the young, or
+of the old, should always be spoken kindly, for we can never know how
+deeply they may penetrate, what tender schemes for widowed mother,
+aspiring brother, portionless sister, or starving wife and children they
+may shatter. The public is a pretty keen judge, and will in most cases
+drop works devoid of the immortal elements of genius. The critic may
+point the way, but he need add no unnecessary stab to a downfall sure
+and bitter.
+
+This digression, however, has no bearing upon the honored names heading
+this table, as both now have become 'household words' in our midst. Both
+are acknowledged as _real poets_, but how different are they in style,
+and mode of thought! Jean Ingelow, as the more brilliant, is the more
+general favorite, Adelaide Procter having as yet scarcely received her
+due meed of praise. Miss Ingelow exhibits an exuberant fancy, a
+luxurious wealth of diction, and a generally fine poetic sense of form;
+her thoughts are sound, and their dress new and glittering; but the
+volume we have read is one to please the fancy and gratify the intellect
+rather than touch the heart. The style is occasionally obscure and the
+thought difficult to follow. Of course one can always find a meaning,
+but one is not always sure of interpreting according to the author's
+intentions. This quality, found largely in the school of Robert
+Browning, is one to be guarded against. Mrs. Browning sometimes deals in
+such involutions, but her style is so evidently an essential part of
+herself, that we rarely think of affectation in connection with it. It
+is pleasanter to dream our own dreams, than to follow any author into a
+tangled maze, whence we, and not he, must furnish the clew for egress.
+
+The 'Songs of Seven' and 'The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire'
+are truly fine poems, to us the most complete and sustained in the
+entire collection. In 'Requiescat in Pace,' we are carried so far away
+from the actualities of life that we scarcely care whether the lover be
+dead or living. As in a fairy tale, we read for the sake of curiosity,
+admiring sundry touches here and there, but feeling nothing. Miss
+Ingelow's rhythm is good, and her language musical.
+
+The style of Adelaide Procter is singularly lucid and direct; she has
+but little command of poetic ornament, and we rarely think of her choice
+of words. _Pathos_, and _a close, keen representation of human
+experience_, are her distinguishing characteristics. She is a poet to
+read when the soul is wrung, and longs for the solace of communion with
+a noble, tender, sympathetic human heart. The very absence of ornament
+brings the thoughts and feelings nearer to our needs. Her poems are
+evidently pictures of real human souls, and not poetic imaginings of
+what human beings might feel under such and such circumstances. There
+are many of Miss Procter's tales and shorter poems which bring tears to
+the eyes of all who have really lived and sorrowed, and the more we read
+them, the more do they come home to us. We feel as if we could take
+their author into our heart of hearts, and make all the world love her
+as do we. With her, brilliancy of imagery and description are replaced
+by a sententiousness and concentration of expression that suddenly
+strike home some truth perhaps well known, but little dwelt on. For
+instance, in 'A Legend of Provence,' we find:
+
+  'Kind hearts are here; yet would the tenderest one
+  Have limits to its mercy: God has none.
+  And man's forgiveness may be true and sweet,
+  But yet he stoops to give it. More complete
+  Is Love that lays forgiveness at thy feet,
+  And pleads with thee to raise it. Only Heaven
+  Means _crowned_, not _vanquished_, when it says, 'Forgiven!''
+
+Again, in 'The Present:'
+
+  'Noble things the great Past promised,
+    Holy dreams, both strange and new;
+  But the Present shall fulfil them,
+    What he promised she shall do.
+
+  *       *       *       *       *
+
+  'She is wise with all his wisdom,
+    Living on his grave she stands,
+  On her brow she bears his laurels,
+    And _his harvest in her hands_.'
+
+'Links with Heaven' is a continued series of tender, original thoughts,
+expressed in the same terse and striking, but simple manner. 'Homeless,'
+'Treasures,' 'Incompleteness,' 'Light and Shade,' are, among the smaller
+poems, fine specimens of her distinguishing merits; while of the
+longer, 'Three Evenings in a Life,' 'Philip and Mildred,' and 'Homeward
+Bound' cannot fall to charm all who love to read a real page from the
+experience of humanity.
+
+Both Jean Ingelow and Adelaide Procter are thoroughly penetrated by
+profound religious convictions, the faith and charity of the latter
+being especially vivid and pervading. The one has a preponderance of the
+beautiful gift of a rich fancy, while to the other was given in greater
+degree the power of the penetrative and sympathetic imagination. The
+one, as we read, recalls to us a glittering heap of precious, shining
+jewels; the other, the first cluster of spring violets, wreaths of
+virginal lilies and midsummer roses, growths of cypress sound to the
+core, rosemary, sage, and all healing herbs, branches of scarlet maple
+leaves, and lovely wayside gentians, adorned by the hand of the Great
+Artist, and blue as heaven itself.
+
+But a little while ago, the Angel, Death, 'who comes in love and pity,
+and, to save our treasures, claims them all,' bore away her pure soul
+along the 'misty pathway' to everlasting peace and joy.
+
+                                                                L.D.P.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Loyal Women of America, this will greet you in the midst of the great
+Metropolitan Fair, and we congratulate you upon the success of the heavy
+work you have undertaken and accomplished! When God was manifest to men,
+he came to work for others, and you are treading in the highest path
+when you follow in the footsteps of the Master. Claim and perform your
+natural _duties_, show yourselves capable of self-abnegation, evince
+your determination to support the cause of justice, to be loyal to the
+humane principles of our Constitution--and all the _rights_ which you
+may postulate, will be conceded you. This war in which you have suffered
+so much, made so many sacrifices, has developed your energies, shown
+your capabilities, revealed your noble hearts, and convinced the world
+that woman is the strong and vigorous _helpmate_, and not the weak, if
+beautiful, _toy_ of man. The Government looks to you as its best aid,
+for moral sanction is its living soul; it looks to you for higher life,
+for, unless the heart of love is the throbbing life-pulse of Government,
+it sinks into a dull, lethargic mechanism. Far above the din of faction,
+the red tape of cabinets, the rivalry of generals, the strife of
+politicians, shines the resolve, and pulses the determination of woman,
+that _mankind shall be free_. For this, the dusky nation bless her as
+she moves; the frighted mother torn from her child, the maiden sold to
+shame, call upon her to deliver them from infamy and the devouring
+hunger of a robbed mother's heart. The wronged children of Ham arise and
+call her 'Blessed.'
+
+But it is with the men of her own race, that woman is weaving the golden
+web of priceless sympathies. Woven of her tenderness, it sparkles with
+man's deathless gratitude. The soldier feels her gracious being in every
+throb of his true heart. Her love and care are forever around him. In
+his lonely night watches, his long marches, his wearisome details of
+duty, his absence from home, his countless deprivations, he thinks of
+the women of his country, and is proud that he may be their defender.
+This thought stimulates him on the field of battle, and nerves his arm
+to deeds of glory. And when he falls, he falls into the arms which
+spread everywhere around him. The Sanitary Commission is her
+representative. She sends it to him to breathe of her in his hour of
+pain. Through it she watches o'er him as he lies low and bleeding on the
+dreadful field, surrounded by the dead and dying; she sends her
+ambulances there to bear him to shelter and comfort; her surgeons stanch
+the noble blood, remove the shattered limbs, quench the stifling thirst,
+working with a tenderness sucked in with the mother's milk. In the
+hospital, in her own gentle person, she soothes his restless hours,
+watches o'er his sleepless couch, dresses his mangled limbs, bears him
+up with her own faith, giving her strength to aid his weakness, she
+leads him back to life, or, if death must come, up to God. American
+Women, live up to the holy duties now demanded of you, and your rights
+will all be conceded, higher, holier, deeper, broader, more vital than
+any for which you have yet asked or hoped. The esteem and veneration of
+the very men who have scorned you for your love of luxury, laughed at
+you for your ridiculous aping of foreign aristocracy, jeered at you for
+your love of glitter, your thirst for wealth, your frivolity and folly,
+and despised you for your arrogance and heartlessness--are already
+yours. Contempt for you has passed away forever. Let the dead past bury
+its dead. American women solve the riddle of woman's destiny. Vast is
+her field and heritage: all who suffer belong to her. Her heart is the
+strength of love and charity; her mind, justice and the rights of all
+who bear the human form; her soul, God's temple among men, in which
+dwell the angels of Purity, Sacrifice, and Devotion. Love to God and man
+is her creed, self-abnegation her crown, faith her oriflamme, strength
+her gift, life her guerdon, and immortality her portion.
+
+American Women, we place a soldier's song before you:
+
+
+A SOLDIER'S PSALM OF WOMAN.
+
+BY LIEUT. RICHARD REALF.
+
+  Down all the shining lapse of days
+    That grow and grow forever
+  In truer love and better praise
+    Of the Almighty Giver--
+  Whatever God-like impulses
+    Have blossomed in the human,
+  The most divine and fair of these
+    Sprang from the soul of woman.
+
+  Her heart it is preserves the flower
+    Of sacrificial duty,
+  Which, blown across the blackest hour,
+    Transfigures it to beauty;
+  Her hands that streak these solemn years
+    With vivifying graces,
+  And crown the foreheads of our fears
+    With light from higher places.
+
+  O wives and mothers, sanctified
+    By holy consecrations,
+  Turning our weariness aside
+    With blessed ministrations!
+  O maidens, in whose dewy eyes
+    Perennial comforts glitter,
+  Untangling War's dark mysteries
+    And making sweet the bitter;--
+
+  In desolate paths, on dangerous posts,
+    By places which, to-morrow,
+  Shall be unto these bannered hosts
+    Aceldemas of sorrow,
+  We hear the sound of helping feet,
+    We feel your soft caressings;
+  And all our life starts up to greet
+    Your lovingness with blessings!
+
+  On cots of pain, on beds of woe,
+    Where stricken heroes languish,
+  Wan faces smile and sick hearts grow
+    Triumphant over anguish;
+  While souls that starve in lonely gloom
+    Flush green with odorous praises,
+  And all the lowly pallets bloom
+    With Gratitude's white daisies.
+
+  O lips that from our wounds have sucked
+    The fever and the burning!
+  O tender fingers that have plucked
+    The madness from our mourning!
+  O hearts that beat so loyal-true
+    For soothing and for saving--
+  God send your own hopes back to you,
+    Crowned with immortal having!
+
+  Thank God!--O Love! whereby we know
+    Beyond our little seeing,
+  And feel serene compassions flow
+    Around the ache of being;--
+  Lo! clear o'er all the pain and dread
+    Of our most sore affliction,
+  The shining wings of Peace are spread
+    In brooding benediction!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+We have been requested by the author of 'Hannah Thurston,' an article in
+our April number, to correct a typographical error (the omission of the
+word _all_) in said article. The mutilated sentence originally read: "I
+cannot think that marriage is essential to, or even best for, the
+happiness of _all_ women."
+
+ED. CON
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Continental Monthly, Vol. 5, No.
+5, May, 1864, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 22770.txt or 22770.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/7/7/22770/
+
+Produced by Joshua Hutchinson, Janet Blenkinship and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+(This file was produced from images generously made
+available by Cornell University Digital Collections)
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
+To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
diff --git a/22770.zip b/22770.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e82ae80
--- /dev/null
+++ b/22770.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..192bdf3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #22770 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22770)