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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/29395-8.txt b/29395-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d9a254 --- /dev/null +++ b/29395-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8395 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature +and Science, Vol. 26, October, 1880, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 26, October, 1880 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 13, 2009 [EBook #29395] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + + + +LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE + +OF + +_POPULAR LITERATURE AND SCIENCE._ + +OCTOBER, 1880. + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by J. B. +LIPPINCOTT & CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at +Washington. + + + + +A CHAPTER OF AMERICAN EXPLORATION. + + +[Illustration: GLEN CAÑON.] + +Those adventurous gentlemen who derive exhilaration from peril, and +extract febrifuge for the high pressure of a too exuberant constitution +from the difficulties of the Alps, cannot find such peaks as the +Aiguille Verte and the Matterhorn, with their friable and precipitous +cliffs, among the Rocky Mountains. The geological processes have been +gentler in evolving the latter than the former, and in the proper season +summits not less elevated nor less splendid or comprehensive than that +of the Matterhorn, upon which so many lives have been defiantly wasted, +may be attained without any great degree of danger or fatigue. All but +the apex may often be reached in the saddle. The _bergschrund_ with its +fragile lip of ice, the _crevasse_ with its treacherous bridges, and the +_avalanche_ which an ill-timed footstep starts with overwhelming havoc, +do not threaten the explorer of the Western mountains; and ordinarily he +passes from height to height--from the base with its wreaths of +evergreens to the zone where vegetation is limited to the gnarled +dwarf-pine, from the foot-hills to the basin of the crisp alpine lake +far above the life-limits--without once having to scale a cliff, +supposing, of course, that he has chosen the best path. The trail may be +narrow at times, with nothing between it and a gulf, and it may be +pitched at an angle that compels the use of "all-fours;" but with +patience and discretion the ultimate peak is conquered without +rope-ladder or ice-axe, and the vastness of the world below, gray and +cold at some hours, and at others lighted with a splendor which words +cannot transcribe, is revealed to the adventurer as satisfaction for his +toil. + +But, though what may be called the pure mountain-peaks do not entail the +same perils and difficulties as the members of the Alpine Club discover +in Italy, France, Switzerland and Germany, the volcanic cones and +cañon-walls of the West have an unstable verticality which, when it is +not absolutely insurmountable, is more difficult than the top of the +Matterhorn itself; and though the various expeditions under Wheeler, +Powell, King and Hayden have not had Aiguilles Vertes to oppose them, +they have been confronted by obstacles which could only be overcome by +as much courage as certain of the clubmen have required in their most +celebrated exploits. Indeed, nothing in the journals of the Alpine Club +compares in the interest of the narrative or the peril of the +undertaking with Major Powell's exploration of the cañons of the +Colorado, which, though its history has become familiar to many readers +through the official report, gathers significance in contrast with all +other Western expeditions, and stands out as an achievement of +extraordinary daring. + +The Colorado is formed by the junction of the Grand and Green Rivers. +The Grand has its source in the Rocky Mountains five or six miles west +of Long's Peak, and the Green heads in the Wind River Mountains near +Fremont's Peak. Uniting in the Colorado, they end as turbid floods in +the Gulf of California, a goal which they reach through gorges set deep +in the bosom of the earth and bordered by a region where the mutations +of Nature are in visible process. In all the world there is no other +river like this. The phenomenal in form predominates: the water has +grooved a channel for itself over a mile below the surrounding country, +which is a desert uninhabited and uninhabitable, terraced with long +series of cliffs or _mesa_-fronts, verdureless, voiceless and +unbeautiful. It is a land of soft, crumbling soil and parched rock, dyed +with strange colors and broken into fantastic shapes. Nature is titanic +and mad: the sane and alleviating beauty of fertility is displaced by an +arid and inanimate desolateness, which glows with alien splendor in +evanescent conditions of the atmosphere, but which in those moments when +the sun casts a fatuous light upon it is more oppressive in its +influence upon the observer than when the blaze of high noon exposes all +of its unyielding harshness. To the feeling of desolation which comes +over one in such a region as this a quickened sense and apprehension of +the supernatural are added, and we seem to be invaders of a border-land +between the solid earth and phantasy. Nature is distraught; and so much +has man subordinated and possessed her elsewhere that here, where +existence is defeated by the absolute impossibility of sustenance, a +poignant feeling of her imperfection steals over us and weighs upon the +mind. + +Perhaps no portion of the earth's surface is more irremediably sterile, +none more hopelessly lost to human occupation, and yet, an eminent +geologist has said, it is the wreck of a region once rich and beautiful, +changed and impoverished by the deepening of its draining streams--the +most striking and suggestive example of over-drainage of which we have +any knowledge. Though valueless to the agriculturist, dreaded and +shunned by the emigrant, the miner and the trapper, the Colorado plateau +is a paradise to the geologist, for nowhere else are the secrets of the +earth's structure so fully revealed as here. Winding through it is the +profound chasm within which the river flows from three thousand to six +thousand feet below the general level for five hundred miles in +unimaginable solitude and gloom, and the perpendicular crags and +precipices which imprison the stream exhibit with, unusual clearness the +zoological and physical history of the land. + +[Illustration: SWALLOW CAVE, GREEN RIVER.] + +[Illustration: INDIANS NEAR FLAMING GORGE (SAI-AR AND FAMILY).] + +It was this chasm, with its cliffs of unparalleled magnitude and its +turbulent waters, that Major Powell explored, and no chapter of Western +adventure is more interesting than his experiences. His starting-point +was Green River City, Wyoming Territory, which is now reached from the +East by the Union Pacific Railway. On the second morning out from Omaha +the passengers find themselves whirling through sandy yellowish gullies, +and, having completed their toilettes amid the flying dust, they emerge +at about eight o'clock in a basin of gigantic and abnormal forms, upon +which lie bands of dull gold, pink, orange and vermilion. In some +instances the massive sandstones have curious architectural +resemblances, as if they had been designed and scaled on a +draughting-board, but they have been so oddly worked upon by the +elements, by the attrition of their own disintegrated particles and the +intangible carving of water, that while one block stands out as a castle +embattled on a lofty precipice, another looms up in the quivering air +with a quaint likeness to something neither human nor divine. This is +where the Overland traveller makes his first acquaintance with those +erosions which are a characterizing element of Western scenery. A broad +stream flows easily through the valley, and acquires a vivid emerald hue +from the shales in its bed, whence its name is derived. Under one of +the highest buttes a small town of newish wooden buildings is scattered, +and this is ambitiously designated Green River City, which, if for +nothing else, is memorable to the tourist for the excellence of the +breakfast which the tavern-keeper serves. + +[Illustration: INDIAN LODGE NEAR FLAMING GORGE.] + +But it was from here, on May 28, 1869, that Major Powell started down +the cañon on that expedition from which the few miners, stock-raisers +and tradespeople who saw his departure never expected to see him return +alive. His party consisted of nine men--J.C. Sumner and William H. Dunn, +both of whom had been trappers and guides in the Rocky Mountains; +Captain Powell, a veteran of the civil war; Lieutenant Bradley, also of +the army; O. G. Howland, formerly a printer and country editor, who had +become a hunter; Seneca Howland; Frank Goodman; Andrew Hall, a Scotch +boy; and "Billy" Hawkins, the cook, who had been a soldier, a teamster +and a trapper. These were carefully selected for their reputed courage +and powers of endurance. The boats in which they travelled were four in +number, and were built upon a model which, as far as possible, combined +strength to resist the rocks with lightness for portages and protection +against the over-wash of the waves. They were divided into three +compartments, oak being the material used in three and pine in the +fourth. The three larger ones were each twenty-one feet long: the other +was sixteen feet long, and was constructed for speed in rowing. +Sufficient food was taken to last ten months, with plenty of ammunition +and tools for building cabins and repairing the boats, besides various +scientific instruments. + +Thus equipped and in single file, the expedition left Green River City +behind and pulled into the shadows of the phenomenal rocks in the early +morning of that May day of 1869. During the first few days they had no +serious mishap: they lost an oar, broke a barometer-tube and +occasionally struck a bar. All around them abounded examples of that +natural architecture which is seen from the passing train at the +"City"--weird statuary, caverns, pinnacles and cliffs, dyed gray and +buff, red and brown, blue and black--all drawn in horizontal strata like +the lines of a painter's brush. Mooring the boats and ascending the +cliffs after making camp, they saw the sun go down over a vast landscape +of glittering rock. The shadows fell in the valleys and gulches, and at +this hour the lights became higher and the depths deeper. The Uintah +Mountains stretched out in the south, thrusting their peaks into the sky +and shining as if ensheathed with silver. The distant pine forests had +the bluish impenetrability of a clear night-sky, and pink clouds floated +in motionless suspense until, with a final burst of splendor, the light +expired. + +At the end of sixty-two miles they reached the mouth of Flaming Gorge, +near which some hunters and Indians are settled. Flaming Gorge is a +cañon bounded by perpendicular bluffs, banded with red and yellow to a +height of fifteen hundred feet, and the water flowing through it is a +positive malachite in color, crossed and edged with bars of glistening +white sand. It leads into Red Cañon, and in 1869 it was the gateway to a +region which was almost wholly unknown. An old Indian endeavored to +deter Major Powell from his purpose. He held his hands above his head, +with his arms vertical, and, looking between them to the sky, said, +"Rocks h-e-a-p, h-e-a-p high; the water go h-oo-woogh; water-pony (boat) +heap buck. Water catch 'em, no see 'em squaw any more, no see 'em Injin +any more, no see 'em pappoose any more." The prophecy was not +encouraging, and with some anxiety the explorers left the last vestige +of civilization behind them. Below the gorge they ran through Horseshoe +Cañon, which describes an elongated letter U in the mountains, and +several portages became necessary. The cliffs increased a thousand feet +in height, and in many places the water completely filled the channel +between them; but occasionally the cañon opened into a little park, from +the grassy carpet of which sprang crimson flowers on the stems of +pear-shaped cactus-plants, patches of blue and yellow blossoms, and a +fragrant _Spiræa_. + +As often as a rapid was approached Major Powell stood on the deck of the +leading boat to examine it, and if he could see a clear passage between +the rocks he gave orders to go ahead, but if the channel was barricaded +he signalled the other boats to pull ashore, and landing himself he +walked along the edge of the cañon for further examination. If still no +channel could be found, the boats were lowered to the head of the falls +and let down by ropes secured to the stem and stern, or when this was +impracticable both the cargoes and the boats were carried by the men +beyond the point of difficulty. When it was decided to run the rapids +the greatest danger was encountered in the first wave at the foot of the +falls, which gathered higher and higher until it broke. If the boat +struck it the instant after it broke she cut through it, and the men had +all they could do to keep themselves from being washed overboard. If in +going over the falls she was caught by some side-current and borne +against the wave "broadside on," she was capsized--an accident that +happened more than once, without fatal results, however, as the +compartments served as buoys and the men clung to her and were dragged +through the waves until quieter water was reached. Where these rapids +occur the channel is usually narrowed by rocks which have tumbled from +the cliffs or have been washed in by lateral streams; but immediately +above them a bay of smooth water may usually be discovered where a +landing can be made with ease. + +[Illustration: INDIANS GAMBLING.] + +In such a bay Major Powell landed one day, and, seeing one of the rear +boats making for the shore after he had given his signal, he supposed +the others would follow her example, and walked along the side of the +cañon-wall to look for the fall of which a loud roar gave some +premonition. But a treacherous eddy carried the boat manned by the two +Howlands and Goodman into the current, and a moment later she +disappeared over the unseen falls. The first fall was not great--not +more than ten or twelve feet--but below the river sweeps down forty or +fifty feet through a channel filled with spiked rocks which break it +into whirlpools and frothy crests. Major Powell scrambled around a crag +just in time to see the boat strike one of these rocks, and, rebounding +from the shock, careen and fill the open compartment with water. The +oars were dashed out of the hands of two of the crew as she swung around +and was carried down the stream with great velocity, and immediately +after she struck another rock amidships, which broke her in two and +threw the men into the water. The larger part of the wreck floated +buoyantly, and seizing it the men supported themselves by it until a few +hundred feet farther down they came to a second fall, filled with huge +boulders, upon which the wreck was dashed to pieces, and the men and the +fragments were again carried out of Major Powell's sight. He struggled +along the scant foothold afforded by the cañon-wall, and coming suddenly +to a bend saw one of the men in a whirlpool below a large rock, to which +he was clinging with all possible tenacity. It was Goodman, and a little +farther on was Howland tossed upon a small island, with his brother +stranded upon a rock some distance below. Howland struck out for Goodman +with a pole, by means of which he relieved him from his precarious +position, and very soon the wrecked crew stood together, bruised, shaken +and scared, but not disabled. A swift, dangerous river was on each side +of them and a fall below them. It was now a problem how to release them +from this imprisonment. Sumner volunteered, and in one of the other +boats started out from above the island, and with skilful paddling +landed upon it. Together with the three shipwrecked men he then pushed +up stream until all stood up to their necks in water, when one of them +braced himself against a rock and held the boat while the three others +jumped into her: the man on the rock followed, and all four then pulled +vigorously for the shore, which they reached in safety. Many years +before an adventurous trapper and his party had been wrecked here and +several lives had been lost. Major Powell named the spot Disaster Falls. + +The cliffs are so high that the twilight is perpetual, and the sky seems +like a flat roof pressed across them. As the worn men stretched +themselves out in their blankets they saw a bright star that appeared +to rest on the very verge of the eastern cliff, and then to float from +its resting-place on the rock over the cañon. At first it was like a +jewel set on the brink of the cliff, and as it moved out from the rock +they wondered that it did not fall. It did seem to descend in a gentle +curve, and the other stars were apparently in the cañon, as if the sky +was spread over the gulf, resting on either wall and swayed down by its +own weight. + +Sixteen days after leaving Green River City the explorers reached the +end of the Cañon of Lodore, which is nearly twenty-four miles long. The +walls were never less than two thousand feet high except near the foot. +They are very irregular, standing in perpendicular or overhanging cliffs +here, terraced there, or receding in steep slopes broken by many +side-gulches. The highest point of the wall is twenty-seven hundred +feet, but the peaks a little distance off are a thousand feet higher. +Yellow pines, nut pines, firs and cedars stand in dense forests on the +Uintah Mountains, and clinging to moving rocks they have come down the +walls to the water's edge between Flaming Gorge and Echo Park. The red +sandstones are lichened over, delicate mosses grow in the moist places +and ferns festoon the walls. + +[Illustration: HORSESHOE CAÑON.] + +A few days later they were upset again, losing oars, guns and +barometers, and on July 18th they had only enough provisions left for +two months, though they had supplied themselves with quantities which, +barring accidents, should have lasted ten months. On July 19th the Grand +Cañon of the Colorado became visible, and from an eminence they could +follow its course for miles and catch glimpses of the river. The Green, +down which they had come so far, bears in from the north-west through a +narrow, winding gorge. The Grand comes in from the north-east through a +channel which from the explorer's point of view seems bottomless. Away +to the west are lines of cliffs and ledges of rock, with grotesque forms +intervening. In the east a chain of eruptive mountains is visible, the +slopes covered with pines, the summits coated with snow and the gulches +flanked by great crags. Wherever the men looked there were rocks, deep +gorges in which the rivers were lost under cliffs, towers and pinnacles, +thousands of strangely-carved forms, and mountains blending with the +clouds. They passed the junction of the Grand and Green, and on July +21st they were on the Colorado itself. The walls are nearly vertical, +and the river is broad and swift, but free from rocks and falls. From +the edge of the water to the brink of the cliffs is nearly two thousand +feet, and the cliffs are reflected on the quiet surface until it seems +to the travellers that there is a vast abyss below them. But the +tranquillity is not lasting: a little way below this space of majestic +calm it was necessary to make three portages in succession, the distance +being less than three-quarters of a mile, with a fall of seventy-five +feet. In the evening Major Powell sat upon a rock by the edge of the +river to look at the water and listen to its roar. Heavy shadows settled +in the cañon as the sun passed behind the cliffs, and no glint of light +remained on the crags above, but the waves were crested with a white +that seemed luminous. A great fall broke at the foot of a block of +limestone fifty feet high, and rolled back in immense billows. Over the +sunken rocks the flood was heaped up into mounds and even cones. The +tumult was extraordinary. At a point where the rocks were very near the +surface the water was thrown up ten or fifteen feet, and fell back in +gentle curves as in a fountain. + +On August 3d the party traversed a cañon of diversified features. The +walls were still vertical in places, especially near the bends, and the +river sweeping round the capes had undermined the cliffs. Sometimes the +rocks overarched: again curious narrow glens were found. The men +explored the glens, in one of which they discovered a natural stairway +several hundred feet high leading to a spring which burst out from an +overhanging cliff among aspens and willows, while along the edges of the +brooklet there were oaks and other rich vegetation. There were also many +side-cañons with walls nearer to each other above than below, giving +them the character of grottoes; and there were carved walls, arches, +alcoves and monuments, to all of which the collective name of Glen Cañon +was given. + +One morning the surveyors came to a point where the river filled the +entire channel and the walls were sheer to the water's edge. They saw a +fall below, and in order to inspect it they pulled up against one of the +cliffs, in which was a little shelf or crevice a few feet above their +heads. One man stood on the deck of the boat while another climbed over +his shoulders into this insecure foothold, along which they passed until +it became a shelf which was broken by a chasm some yards farther on. +They then returned to the boat and pulled across the stream for some +logs which had lodged on the opposite shore, and with which it was +intended to bridge the gulf. It was no easy work hauling the wood along +the fissure, but with care and patience they accomplished it, and +reached a point in the cliffs from which the falls could be seen. It +seemed practicable to lower the boats over the stormy waters by holding +them with ropes from the cliffs; and this was done successfully, the +incident illustrating how laborious their progress sometimes became. + +The scenery was of unending interest. The rocks were of many +colors--white, gray, pink and purple, with saffron tints. At an elbow of +the river the water has excavated a semicircular chamber which would +hold fifty thousand people, and farther on the cliffs are of +softly-tinted marble lustrously polished by the waves. At one place +Major Powell walked for more than a mile on a marble pavement fretted +with strange devices and embossed with a thousand different patterns. +Through a cleft in the wall the sun shone on this floor, which gleamed +with iridescent beauty. Exploring the cleft, Major Powell found a +succession of pools one above another, and each cold and clear, though +the water of the river was a dull red. Then a bend in the cañon +disclosed a massive abutment that seemed to be set with a million +brilliant gems as they approached it, and every one wondered. As they +came closer to it they saw many springs bursting from the rock high +overhead, and the spray in the sunshine forms the gems which glitter in +the walls, at the base of which is a profusion of mosses, ferns and +flowers. To the place above where the three portages were necessary the +name of Cataract Cañon was given; and they were now well into the Grand +Cañon itself. The walls were more than a mile in height, and, as Major +Powell says, a vertical altitude like this is not easily pictured. +"Stand on the south steps of the Treasury Building in Washington and +look down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol Park, and measure this +distance overhead, and imagine cliffs to extend to that altitude, and +you will understand what I mean," the explorer has written; "or stand at +Canal street in New York and look up Broadway to Grace Church, and you +have about the distance; or stand at the Lake street bridge in Chicago +and look down to the Central Dépôt, and you have it again." A thousand +feet of the distance is through granite crags, above which are slopes +and perpendicular cliffs to the summit. The gorge is black and narrow +below, red and gray and flaring above. + +[Illustration: THE HEART OF CATARACT CAÑON.] + +Down these gloomy depths the expedition constantly glided, ever +listening and ever peering ahead, for the cañon is winding and they +could not see more than a few hundred yards in advance. The view +changed every minute as some new crag or pinnacle or glen or peak became +visible; but the men were fully engaged listening for rapids and looking +for rocks. Navigation was exceedingly difficult, and it was often +necessary to hold the boats from ledges in the cliffs as the falls were +passed. The river was very deep and the cañon very narrow. The waters +boiled and rushed in treacherous currents, which sometimes whirled the +boats into the stream or hurried them against the walls. The oars were +useless, and each crew labored for its own preservation as its frail +vessel was spun round like a top or borne with the speed of a locomotive +this way and that. + +[Illustration: MARY'S VEIL, A SIDE CAÑON.] + +While they were thus uncontrollable the boats entered a rapid, and one +of them was driven in shore, but as there was no foothold for a portage +the men pushed into the stream again. The next minute a reflex wave +filled the open compartment and water-logged her: breaker after breaker +rolled over her, and one capsized her. The men were thrown out, but they +managed to cling to her, and as they were swept down the other boats +rescued them. + +Heavy clouds rolled in the cañon, filling it with gloom. Sometimes they +hung above from wall to wall and formed a roof: then a gust of wind from +a side-cañon made a rift in them and the blue heavens were revealed, or +they dispersed in patches which settled on the crags, while puffs of +vapor issued out of the smaller gulches, and occasionally formed bars +across the cañon, one above another, each opening a different vista. +When they discharged their rains little rills first trickled down the +cliff, and these soon became brooks: the brooks grew into creeks and +tumbled down through innumerable cascades, which added their music to +the roar of the river. As soon as the rain ceased rills, brooks, creeks +and cascades disappeared, their birth and death being equally sudden. + +[Illustration: LIGHTHOUSE ROCK IN THE CAÑON OF DESOLATION.] + +Desolate and inaccessible as the cañon is, many ruins of buildings are +found perched upon ledges in the stupendous cliffs. In some instances +the mouths of caves have been walled in, and the evidences all point to +a race for ever dreading and fortifying itself against an invader. Why +did these people chose their embattlements so far away from all +tillable land and sources of subsistence? Major Powell suggests this +solution of the problem: For a century or two after the settlement of +Mexico many expeditions were sent into the country now comprised in +Arizona and New Mexico for the purpose of bringing the town-building +people under the dominion of the Spanish government. Many of their +villages were destroyed, and the inhabitants fled to regions at that +time unexplored; and there are traditions among the existing Pueblos +that the cañons were these lands. The Spanish conquerors had a monstrous +greed for gold and a lust for saving souls. "Treasure they must have--if +not on earth why, then, in heaven--and when they failed to find heathen +temples bedecked with silver they propitiated Heaven by seizing the +heathen themselves. There is yet extant a copy of a record made by a +heathen artist to express his conception of the demands of the +conquerors. In one part of the picture we have a lake, and near by +stands a priest pouring water on the head of a native. On the other side +a poor Indian has a cord around his throat. Lines run from these two +groups to a central figure, a man with a beard and full Spanish panoply. +The interpretation of the picture-writing is this: 'Be baptized as this +saved heathen, or be hanged as this damned heathen.' Doubtless some of +the people preferred a third alternative, and rather than be baptized or +hanged they chose to be imprisoned within these cañon-walls." + +The rains and the accidents in the rapids had seriously reduced the +commissary by this time, and the provisions left were more or less +injured. The bacon was uneatable, and had to be thrown away: the flour +was musty, and the saleratus was lost overboard. On August 17th the +party had only enough food remaining for ten days' use, and though they +hoped that the worst places had been passed, the barometers were broken, +and they did not know what descent they had yet to make. The canvas +which they had brought with them for covering from Green River City was +rotten, there was not one blanket apiece for the men, and more than half +the party were hatless. Despite their hopes that the greatest obstacles +had been overcome, however, on the morning of August 27th they reached a +place which appeared more perilous than any they had so far passed. They +landed on one side of the river, and clambered over the granite +pinnacles for a mile or two without seeing any way by which they could +lower the boats. Then they crossed to the other side and walked along +the top of a crag. In his eagerness to reach a point where he could see +the roaring fall below, Major Powell went too far, and was caught at a +point where he could neither advance nor retreat: the river was four +hundred feet below, and he was suspended in front of the cliff with one +foot on a small projecting rock and one hand fixed in a little crevice. +He called for help, and the men passed him a line, but he could not let +go of the rock long enough to seize it. While he felt his hold becoming +weaker and expected momentarily to drop into the cañon, the men went to +the boats and obtained three of the largest oars. The blade of one of +them was pushed into the crevice of a rock beyond him in such a manner +that it bound him across the body to the wall, and another oar was fixed +so that he could stand upon it and walk out of the difficulty. He +breathed again, but had felt that cold air which seems to fan one when +death is near. + +Another hour was spent in examining the river, but a good view of it +could not be obtained, and they once more went to the opposite side. +After some hard work among the cliffs they discovered that the lateral +streams had washed a large number of boulders into the river, forming a +dam over which the water made a broken fall of about twenty feet, below +which was a rapid beset by huge rocks for two or three hundred yards. +This was bordered on one side by a series of sharp projections of the +cañon-walls, and beyond it was a second fall, ending in another and no +less threatening rapid. At the bottom of the latter an immense slab of +granite projected fully halfway across the river, and upon the inclined +plane which it formed the water rolled with all the momentum gained in +the falls and rapids above, and then swept over to the left. The men +viewed the prospect with dismay, but Major Powell had an insatiable +desire to complete the exploration. He decided that it was possible to +let the boats down over the first fall, then to run near the right cliff +to a point just above the second fall, where they could pull into a +little chute, and from the foot of that across the stream to avoid the +great rock below. The men shook their heads, and after supper--a sorry +supper of unleavened flour and water, coffee and rancid bacon, eaten on +the rocks--the elder Howland endeavored to dissuade the leader from his +purpose, and, failing to do so, told him that he with his brother and +Dunn would go no farther. That night Major Powell did not sleep at all, +but paced to and fro, now measuring the remaining provisions, then +contemplating the rushing falls and rapids. Might not Howland be right? +Would it be wise to venture into that maëlstrom which was white during +the darkest hours of the night? At one time he almost concluded to leave +the river and to strike out across the table-lands for the Mormon +settlements. But this trip had been the object of his life for many +years, looked forward to and dreamed of, and to leave the exploration +unfinished when he was so near the end, to acknowledge defeat, was more +than he could reconcile himself to. + +[Illustration: GRANITE WALLS.] + +In the morning his brother, Captain Powell, Sumner, Bradley, Hall and +Hawkins promised to remain with him, but the Howlands and Dunn were +fixed in their determination to go no farther. The provisions were +divided, and one of the boats was left with the deserters, who were also +provided with three guns: Howland was also entrusted with duplicate +copies of the records and with some mementos the voyagers desired to +have sent to friends and relatives should they not be heard of again. It +was a solemn parting. The Howlands and Dunn entreated the others not to +go on, telling them that it was obvious madness; but the decision had +been made, and the two boats pushed out into the stream. + +They glided rapidly along the foot of the wall, grazing one large rock, +and then they pulled into the falls and plunged over them. The open +compartment of the major's boat was filled when she struck the first +wave below, but she cut through the upheaval, and by vigorous strokes +was drawn away from the dangerous rock farther down. They were scarcely +a minute in running through the rapids, and found that what had seemed +almost hopeless from above was really less difficult than many other +points on the river. The Rowlands and their companion were now out of +sight, and guns were fired to indicate to them that the passage had been +safely made and to induce them to follow; but no answer came, and after +waiting two hours the descent of the river was resumed. + +[Illustration: CAÑON IN ESCALANTE BASIN.] + +A succession of falls and rapids still had to be overcome, and in the +afternoon the explorers were once more threatened with defeat. A little +stream entered the cañon from the left, and immediately below the river +broke over two falls, beyond which it rose in high waves and subsided in +whirlpools. The boats hugged the left wall for some distance, but when +the men saw that they could not descend on this side they pulled up +stream several hundred yards and crossed to the other. Here there was a +bed of basalt about one hundred feet high, which, disembarking, they +followed, pulling the boats after them by ropes. The major, as usual, +went ahead, and discovered that it would be impossible to lower the +boats from the cliff; but the men had already brought one of them to the +brink of the falls and had secured her by a bight around a crag. The +other boat, in which Bradley had remained, was shooting in and out from +the cliffs with great violence, now straining the line by which she was +held, and now whirling against the rock as if she would dash herself to +pieces. An effort was made to pass another rope to Bradley, but he was +so preoccupied that he did not notice it, and the others saw him take a +knife out of its sheath and step forward to cut the line. He had decided +that it was better to go over the falls with her than to wait for her to +be completely wrecked against the rocks. He did not show the least +alarm, and as he leaned over to cut the rope the boat sheered into the +stream, the stern-post broke and he was adrift. With perfect composure +he seized the large scull-oar, placed it in the stern rowlock and pulled +with all his strength, which was considerable, to turn the bow down +stream. After the third stroke she passed over the falls and was +invisible for several seconds, when she reappeared upon a great wave, +dancing high over its crest, then sinking between two vast walls of +water. The men on the cliff held their breath as they watched. Again she +disappeared, and this time was out of sight so long that poor Bradley's +fate seemed settled; but in a moment more something was noticed emerging +from the water farther down the stream: it was the boat, with Bradley +standing on deck and twirling his hat to show that he was safe. He was +spinning round in a whirlpool, however, and Sumner and Powell were sent +along the cliff to see if they could help him, while the major and the +others embarked in the remaining boat and passed over the fall. After +reaching the brink they do not remember what happened to them, except +that their boat was upset and that Bradley pulled them out of the water. +Powell and Sumner joined them by climbing along the cliff, and, having +put the boats in order, they once more started down the stream. + +[Illustration: PA-RU-NU-WEAP CAÑON.] + +On the next day, August 29th, three months and five days after leaving +Green River City, they reached the foot of the Grand Cañon of the +Colorado, the passage of which had been of continuous peril and toil, +and on the 30th they ended their exploration at a ranch, from which the +way was easy to Salt Lake City. "Now the danger is over," writes Major +Powell in his diary; "now the toil has ceased; now the gloom has +disappeared; now the firmament is bounded only by the horizon; and what +a vast expanse of constellations can be seen! The river rolls by us in +silent majesty; the quiet of the camp is sweet; our joy is almost +ecstasy. We sit till long after midnight talking of the Grand Cañon, +talking of home, but chiefly talking of the three men who left us. Are +they wandering in those depths, unable to find a way out? are they +searching over the desert-lands above for water? or are they nearing the +settlements?" + +It was about a year afterward that their fate became known. Major Powell +was continuing his explorations, and having passed through Pa-ru-nu-weap +(or Roaring Water) Cañon, he spent some time among the Indians in the +region beyond, from whom he learned that three white men had been +killed the year before. They had come upon the Indian village starving +and exhausted with fatigue, saying that they had descended the Grand +Cañon. They were fed and started on the way to the settlements, but they +had not gone far when an Indian arrived from the east side of the +Colorado and told of some miners who had killed a squaw in a drunken +brawl. He incited the tribe to follow and attack the three whites, who +no doubt were the murderers. Their story of coming down the Grand Cañon +was impossible--no men had ever done that--and it was a falsehood +designed to cover their guilt. Excited by a desire for revenge, a party +stole after them, surrounded them in ambush and filled them with arrows. +This was the tragic end of Dunn and the Rowland brothers. + +Little need be added. The unflinching courage, the quiet persistence and +the inexhaustible zeal of Major Powell enabled him to achieve a +geographical exploit which had been deemed wholly impracticable, and +which in adventurousness puts most of the feats of the Alpine Club in +the shade. But the narrative may derive a further interest from one +other fact concerning this intrepid explorer, whom we have seen standing +at the bow of his boats and guiding them over tempestuous falls, rapids +and whirlpools, soaring among the crags of almost perpendicular +cañon-walls and suspended by his fingers from the rocks four hundred +feet above the level of the river: Major Powell is a one-armed man! + + WILLIAM H. RIDEING. + + + + +ADAM AND EVE. + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +For an instant every one seemed paralyzed and transfixed in the position +into which upon Jonathan's entrance they had started. Then a sudden rush +was made toward the door, which several of the strongest blocked up, +while Adam called vainly on them to stand aside and give the chance of +more air. Joan flew for water, and Jerrem dashed it over Jonathan. + +There was a minute of anxious watching, and then slowly over Jonathan's +pallid face the signs of returning animation began to creep. + +"Now, stand back--stand back from him, do!" said Adam, fearing the +effect of so many faces crowding near would only serve to further daze +his scared senses.--"What is it, Jonathan? what is it, lad?" he asked, +kneeling down by him. + +Jonathan tried to rise, and Adam motioned for Barnabas Tadd to come and +assist in getting him on his feet. + +"Now, sit down there," said Adam, "and put your lips to this, and then +tell us what's up." + +Jonathan cowered down as he threw a hasty glance round, the meaning of +which was answered by a general "You knaws all of us, Jonathan, don't +ee?" + +"Iss," said Jonathan, breaking into a feeble laugh, "but somehows I'd a +rinned till I'd got 'em all, as I fancied, to my heels, close by." + +"And where are they, then?" said Adam, seizing the opportunity of +getting at the most important fact. + +"Comin' 'long t' roadway, man by man, and straddled on to their horses' +backs. They'm to take 'ee all, dead or livin', sarch by night or day. +Some o' 'em is come all the ways fra Plymouth, vowin' and swearin' +they'll have blid for blid, and that if they can't pitch 'pon he who +fired to kill their man every sawl aboard the Lottery shall swing +gallows-high for un." + +A volley of oaths ran through the room, Joan threw up her arms in +despair, Eve groaned aloud. + +Suddenly there was a movement as if some one was breaking from a +detaining hand. 'Twas Jerrem, who, pushing forward, cried out, "Then +I'll give myself up to wance: nobody sha'n't suffer 'cos o' me. I did +it, and I wasn't afeared to do it, neither, and no more I ain't afeared +to answer for it now." + +The buzz which negatived this offer bespoke the appreciation of Jerrem's +magnanimity. + +Adam alone had taken no part in it: turning, he said sternly, "Do we +risk our lives together, then, to skulk off when danger offers and leave +one to suffer for all? Let's have no more of such idle talk. While +things promised to run smooth you was welcome to the boast of havin' +fired first shot, but now every man aboard fired it; and let he who says +he didn't stand out and say it now." + +"Fair spoke and good sense," said the men. + +"Then off with you, each to the place he thinks safest.--Jerrem and you, +father, must stay here. I shall go to the mill, and, Jonathan, for the +night you'd best come along with me." + +With little visible excitement and but few words the men began to +depart, all of them more or less stupefied by the influence of drink, +which, combined with this unexpected dash to their hopes and overthrow +of their boastings, seemed to rob them of all their energy. They were +ready to do whatever they were asked, go wherever they were told, listen +to all that was said, but anything beyond this was then impossible. They +had no more power of deciding, proposing, arranging for themselves, than +if they had been a flock of sheep warned that a ravenous wolf was near. + +The one necessary action which seemed to have laid hold upon them was +that they must all solemnly shake hands; and this in many cases they +did over and over again, repeating each time, with a warning nod of the +head, "Well, mate, 'tis a bad job o' it, this," until some of the more +collected felt it necessary to interfere and urge their immediate +departure: then one by one they stole away, leaving the house in +possession of its usual occupants. + +Adam had already been up stairs to get Uncle Zebedee--now utterly +incapable of any thought for himself--safely placed in a secret closet +which was hollowed in the wall behind the bed. Turning to Jerrem as he +came down, he said, "You can manage to stow yourself away; only mind, do +it at once, so that the house is got quiet before they've time to get +here." + +"All right," said Jerrem doggedly, while Joan slid back the seat of the +settle, turned down a flap in the wall, and discovered the hole in which +Jerrem was to lie concealed. "There! there ain't another hidin'-place +like that in all Polperro," she said. "They may send a whole reg'ment o' +sodgers afore a man among 'em 'ull pitch on 'ee there, Jerrem." + +"And that's the reason why I don't want to have it," said Jerrem. "I +don't see why I'm to have the pick and choice, and why Adam's to go off +to where they've only got to search and find." + +"Well, but 'tis as he says," urged Joan. "They may ha' got you in their +eye already. Come, 'tis all settled now," she continued persuasively; +"so get 'longs in with 'ee, like a dear." + +Jerrem gave a look round. Eve was busy clearing the table, Adam was +putting some tobacco into his pouch. He hesitated, then he made a step +forward, then he drew back again, until at last, with visible effort, he +said, "Come, give us yer hand, Adam." With no affectation of cordiality +Adam held out his hand. "Whatever comes, you've spoke up fair for me, +and acted better than most would ha' done, seem' that I've let my tongue +run a bit too fast 'bout you o' late." + +"Oh, don't think I've done any more for you than I should ha' done for +either one o' the others," said Adam, not willing to accept a feather's +weight of Jerrem's gratitude. "However," he added, trying to force +himself into a greater show of graciousness, "here's wishin' all may go +well with you, as with all of us!" + +Not over-pleased with this cold reception of his advances, Jerrem turned +hastily round to Joan. "Here, let's have a kiss, Joan," he said. + +"Iss, twenty, my dear, so long as you'll only be quick 'bout it." + +"Eve!" + +"There! nonsense now!" exclaimed Joan, warned by an expression in Adam's +face: "there's no call for no leave-takin' with Eve: her'll be here so +well as you." + +The words, well-intentioned as they were, served as fuel to Adam's +jealous fire, and for a moment he felt that it was impossible to go away +and leave Jerrem behind; but the next instant the very knowledge of that +passing weakness was only urging him to greater self-command, although +the effort it cost him gave a hardness to his voice and a coldness to +his manner. One tender word, and his resolve would be gone--one soft +emotion, and to go would be impossible. + +Eve, on her part, with all her love reawakened, her fears excited and +her imagination sharpened, was wrought up to a pitch of emotion which +each moment grew more and more beyond her control. In her efforts to +keep calm she busied herself in clearing the table and moving to and fro +the chairs, all the time keenly alive to the fact that Joan was hovering +about Adam, suggesting comforts, supplying resources and pouring out a +torrent of wordy hopes and fears. Surely Adam would ask--Joan would +think to give them--one moment to themselves? If not she would demand +it, but before she could speak, boom on her heart came Adam's "Good-bye, +Joan, good-bye." What can she do now? How bear this terrible parting? In +her efforts to control the desire to give vent to her agony her powers +of endurance utterly gave way. A rushing sound as of many waters came +gurgling in her ears, dulling the voice of some one who spoke from far +off. + +"What are they saying?" In vain she tried to catch the words, to speak, +to move: then, gathering up all her strength, with a piercing cry she +tried to break the spell. The room reeled, the ground beneath her gave +way, a hundred voices shrieked good-bye, and with their clamor ringing +in her ears Eve's spirit went down into silence and darkness. Another +minute, and she was again alive to all her misery: Joan was kneeling +beside her, the tears streaming from her eyes. + +"What is it? Where's Adam?" exclaimed Eve, starting up. + +"Gone," said Joan: "he said 'twas better to, 'fore you comed to yourself +agen." + +"Gone! and never said a word?" she cried. "Gone! Oh, Joan, how could he? +how could he?" + +"What would 'ee have un do, then?" said Joan sharply. "Bide dallyin' +here to be took by the hounds o' sodgers that's marchin' 'pon us all? +That's fine love, I will say." But suddenly a noise outside made them +both start and stand listening with beating hearts until all again was +still and quiet: then Joan's quick-roused anger failed her, and, +repenting her sharp speech, she threw her arms round Eve's neck, crying, +"Awh, Eve, don't 'ee lets you and me set 'bout quarrellin', my dear, for +if sorrow ain't a-drawin' nigh my name's not Joan Hocken. I never before +felt the same way as I do to-night. My spirits is gived way: my heart +seems to have falled flat down and died within me, and, be doing what I +may, there keeps soundin' in my ears a nickety-knock like the tappin' on +a coffin-lid." + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +Since the night on which Jonathan's arrival had plunged the party +assembled at Zebedee Pascal's into such dismay a week had passed +by--seven days and nights of terror and confusion. + +The determined manner in which the government authorities traced out +each clew and tracked every scent struck terror into the stoutest +hearts, and men who had never before shrunk from danger in any open form +now feared to show their faces, dared not sleep in their own houses, +nor, except by stealth, visit their own families. At dead of night, as +well as in the blaze of day, stealthy descents would be made upon the +place, the houses surrounded and strict search made. One hour the +streets would be deserted, the next every corner bristled with rude +soldiery, flinging insults and imprecations on the feeble old men and +defenceless women, who, panic-stricken, stood about vainly endeavoring +to seem at their ease and keep up a show of indifference. + +One of the first acts had been to seize the Lottery, and orders had been +issued to arrest all or any of her crew, wherever they might be found; +but as yet no trace of them had been discovered. Jerrem and Uncle +Zebedee still lay concealed within the house, and Adam at the mill, +crouched beneath corn-bins, lay covered by sacks and grain, while the +tramp of the soldiers sounded in his ears or the ring of their voices +set his stout heart quaking with fear of discovery. To men whose lives +had been spent out of doors, with the free air of heaven and the fresh +salt breeze of the sea constantly sweeping over them, toil and hardship +were pastimes compared to this inactivity; and it was little to be +wondered at that for one and all the single solace left seemed drink. +Drink deadened their restlessness, benumbed their energies, made them +forget their dangers, sleep through their durance. So that even Adam +could not always hold out against a solace which helped to shorten the +frightful monotony of those weary days, dragged out for the most time in +solitude and darkness. With no occupation, no resources, no companion, +ever dwelling on self and viewing each action, past and present, by the +light of an exaggerated (often a distorted) vision, Adam grew irritable, +morose, suspicious. + +Why hadn't Joan come? Surely there couldn't be anything to keep Eve +away? And if so, might they not send a letter, a message or some token +to show him that he was still in their thoughts? In vain did Mrs. Tucker +urge the necessity of a caution hitherto unknown: in vain did she repeat +the stories brought of footsteps dogged, and houses watched so that +their inmates dare not run the smallest risk for fear of its leading to +detection. Adam turned a deaf ear to all she said, sinking at last down +to the conclusion that he could endure such suspense no longer, and, +come what might, must the next day steal back home and satisfy himself +how things were going on. The only concession to her better judgment +which Mrs. Tucker could gain was his promise to wait until she had been +in to Polperro to reconnoitre; for though, from having seen a party of +soldiers pass that morning, they knew some of the troop had left, it was +impossible to say how many remained behind nor whether they had received +fresh strength from the opposite direction. + +"I sha'n't give no more o' they than I sees the wisdom of," reflected +Mrs. Tucker as, primed with questions to ask Joan and messages to give +to Eve, she securely fastened the doors preparatory to her departure. +"If I was to tell up such talk to Eve her'd be piping off here next +minit or else sendin' back a pack o' silly speeches that 'ud make Adam +mazed to go to she. 'Tis wonderful how took up he is with a maid he +knows so little of. But there! 'tis the same with all the men, I +b'lieve--tickle their eye and good-bye to their judgment." And giving +the outer gate a shake to assure herself that it could not be opened +without a preparatory warning to those within, Mrs. Tucker turned away +and out into the road. + +A natural tendency to be engrossed by personal interests, together with +a life of narrowed circumstances, had somewhat blunted the acuteness of +Mrs. Tucker's impressionable sensibilities, yet she could not but be +struck at the change these last two weeks had wrought in the aspect of +the place. The houses, wont to stand open so that friendly greetings +might be exchanged, were now closed and shut; the blinds of most of the +windows were drawn down; the streets, usually thronged with idlers, were +all but deserted; the few shops empty of wares and of customers. Calling +to her recollection the frequent prophetic warnings she had indulged in +about these evil days to come, Mrs. Tucker's heart smote her. Surely +Providence had never taken her at her word and really brought a judgment +on the place? If so, seeing her own kith and kin would be amongst the +most to suffer, it had read a very wrong meaning in her words; for it +stood to reason when folks talked serious-like they didn't always stop +to measure what they said, and if a text or two o' Scripture sounded +seemly, 'twas fitted in to help their speech out with, not to be pulled +abroad to seek the downright meanin' o' each word. + +Subdued and oppressed by these and like reflections, Mrs. Tucker reached +Uncle Zebedee's house, inside which the change wrought was in keeping +with the external sadness. Both girls looked harassed and +careworn--Joan, now that there was no further occasion for that display +of spirit and bravado which before the soldiers she had successfully +contrived to maintain, utterly broken down and apathetically dejected; +Eve, unable to enter into all the difficulties or sympathize in the +universal danger, ill at ease with herself and irritable with all around +her. In her anxiety to hear about Adam--what message he had sent and +whether she could not go to see him--she had barely patience to listen +to Mrs. Tucker's roundabout details and lugubrious lamentations, and, +choosing a very inopportune moment, she broke out with, "What message +has Adam sent, Mrs. Tucker? He's sent a message to me, I'm sure: I know +he must have." + +"Awh, well, if you knaws, you don't want to be told, then," snorted Mrs. +Tucker, ill pleased at having her demands upon sympathy put to such +sudden flight. "Though don't you think, Eve, that Adam hasn't got +somethin' else to think of than sendin' love-messages and nonsense o' +that sort? He's a good deal too much took up 'bout the trouble we'm all +in for that.--He hoped you was all well, and keepin' yer spirits up, +Joan." + +"Poor sawl!" sighed Joan: "I 'spects he finds that's more than he can +do." + +"Ah, you may well say that," replied Mrs. Tucker, casting a troubled +look toward her daughter's altered face. "Adam's doin' purtty much the +same as you be, Joan--frettin' his insides out." + +"He's fretting, then?" gasped Eve, managing to get the words past the +great lump which seemed to choke her further utterance. + +"Frettin'," repeated Mrs. Tucker with severity. "But there! why should +I?" she added, as if blaming her sense of injury. "I keeps forgettin' +that, compared with Joan, Eve, you'm nothin' but a stranger, as you may +say; and, though I dare say I sha'n't get your thanks for saying it, +still Adam could tell 'ee so well as me that fresh faces is all very +well in fair weather, but in times of trouble they counts for very +little aside o' they who's bin brought up from the same cradle, you may +say." + +Eve's swelling heart could bear no more. This sense of being set aside +and looked on as a stranger was a gall which of late she had been +frequently called upon to endure, but to have it hinted at that Adam +could share in this feeling toward her--oh, it was too much, and rising +hastily she turned to run up stairs. + +"Now, there's no call to fly off in no tantrums, Eve," said Mrs. Tucker; +"so just sit down now and listen to what else I've got to say." + +But Eve's outraged love could hide itself no longer: to answer Joan's +mother with anything like temper was impossible, and, knowing this, her +only refuge was in flight. "I don't want to hear any more you may have +to say, Mrs. Tucker;" and though Eve managed to keep under the sharpness +of her voice, she could not control the indignant expression of her +face, which Mrs. Tucker fully appreciating, she speeded her departure by +the inspiriting prediction that if Eve didn't sup sorrow by the spoonful +before her hair was gray her name wasn't Ann Tucker. + +"Awh, don't 'ee say that," said Joan. "You'm over-crabbit with her, +mother, and her only wantin' to hear some word that Adam had sent to her +ownself." + +"But, mercy 'pon us! her must give me time to fetch my breath," +exclaimed Mrs. Tucker indignantly, "and I foaced to fly off as I did for +fear that Adam should forestall me and go doin' somethin' foolish!" + +"He ain't wantin' to come home?" said Joan hurriedly. + +"Iss, but he is, though. And when us see they sodgers go past I thought +no other than he'd a set off then and there. As I said to un, ''Tis true +you knows o' they that's gone, but how can 'ee tell how many's left +behind?'" + +Joan shook her head. "They'm all off," she said: "every man of 'em's +gone; but, for all that, Adam mustn't come anighst us or show his face +in the place. 'Tis held everywhere that this move is nothin' but a decoy +to get the men out o' hidin', and that done, back they'll all come and +drop down on 'em." + +"Well, then, I'd best go back to wanst," cried Mrs. Tucker, starting up, +"and try and put a stop to his comin', tho' whether he'll pay any heed +to what I say is more than I'll answer for." + +"Tell un," said Joan, "that for all our sakes he mustn't come, and say +that I've had word that Jonathan's lurkin' nigh about here some place, +so I reckon there's somethin' up; and what it is he shall know so soon +as I can send word to un. Say _that_ ought to tell un 'tisn't safe to +stir, 'cos he knows that Jonathan would sooner have gone to he than to +either wan here." + +"Well, I'll tell un all you tells me to," said Mrs. Tucker with a +somewhat hopeless expression; "but you knaw what Adam is, Joan, when he +fixes his mind on anythin'; and I've had the works o' the warld to keep +un from comin' already: he takes such fancies about 'ee all as you never +did. I declare if I didn't knaw that p'r'aps he's a had more liquor than +he's used to take o' times I should ha' fancied un light-headed like." + +"And so he'll be if you gives much sperrit to un, mother," said Joan +anxiously: "'tis sure to stir his temper up. But there!" she added +despondingly, "what can anybody do? 'Tis all they ha' got to fly to. +There's Jerrem at it fro' mornin' to night; and as for uncle, dear sawl! +he's as happy as a clam at high watter." + +"Iss, I reckon," said Mrs. Tucker: "it don't never matter much what goes +wrong, so long as uncle gets his fill o' drink. I've said scores o' +times uncle's joy 'ud never run dry so long as liquor lasted." + +"Awh, well," said Joan, "I don't knaw what us should ha' done if there'd +ha' bin no drink to give 'em: they'd ha' bin more than Eve and me could +manage, I can tell 'ee. Nobody but our ownselves, mother, will ever +knaw what us two maidens have had to go through." + +"You've often had my thoughts with 'ee, Joan," said Mrs. Tucker, her +eyes dimmed by a rush of motherly sympathy for all the girls must have +suffered; "and you can tell Eve (for her'll take it better from you than +from me) that Adam's allays a-thinkin' of her, and begged and prayed +that she wudn't forget un." + +"No fear o' that," said Joan, anxious that her mother should depart; +"and mind now you say, no matter what time 'tis, directly I'se seen +Jonathan and knaws 'tis safe for we somebody shall bring un word to come +back, for Eve and me's longin' to have a sight of un." + +Charged with these messages, Mrs. Tucker hastened back to the mill, +where all had gone well since her departure, and where she found Adam +more tractable and reasonable than she had had reason to anticipate. He +listened to all Joan's messages, agreed with her suspicions and seemed +contented to abide by her decision. The plain, unvarnished statement +which Mrs. Tucker gave of the misery and gloom spread over the place +affected him visibly, and her account of the two girls, and the +alteration she had seen in them, did not tend to dispel his emotion. + +"As for Joan," she said, letting a tear escape and trickle down her +cheek, "'tis heart-breakin' to look at her. Her's terrible wrapped up in +you, Adam, is Joan--more than, as her mother, I cares for her to awn to, +seein' how you'm situated with Eve." + +"Oh, Eve never made no difference 'twixt us two," said Adam. Then, after +a pause, he asked, "Didn't Eve give you no word to give to me?" + +"Well, no," said Mrs. Tucker: then, with the determination to deal +fairly, she added quickly, "but her was full o' questions about 'ee, and +that 'fore I'd time to draw breath inside the place." Adam was silent, +and Mrs. Tucker, considering the necessity for further explanation +removed by the compromise she had made, continued: "You see, what with +Jerrem and uncle, and the drink that goes on, they two poor maidens is +kept pretty much on the go; and Eve, never bein' used to no such ways, +seems terrible harried by it all." + +"Harried?" repeated Adam, with ill-suppressed bitterness, "and well she +may be; still, I should ha' thought she might have managed to send, if +'twas no more than a word, back to me." + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +Under the plea that, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Jonathan +might still possibly put in an appearance, Adam lingered in his aunt's +cheerful-looking kitchen until after the clock had struck eleven: then +he very reluctantly got up, and, bidding Mrs. Tucker and Sammy +good-night, betook himself to the mill-house, in which, with regard to +his greater safety, a bed had been made up for him. + +Adam felt that, court it as he might, sleep was very far from his eyes, +and that, compared to his own society and the torment of thought which +harassed and racked him each time he found himself alone, even Sammy +Tucker's company was a boon to be grateful for. There were times during +these hours of dreary loneliness when Adam's whole nature seemed +submerged by the billows of love--cruel waves, which would toss him +hither and thither, making sport of his hapless condition, to strand him +at length on the quicksands of fear, where a thousand terrible alarms +would seize him and fill him with dread as to how these disasters might +end. What would become of him? how would it fare with Eve and himself? +where could they go? what could they do?--questions ever swallowed up by +the constantly-recurring, all-important bewilderment as to what could +possibly have brought about this dire disaster. + +On this night Adam's thoughts were more than usually engrossed by Eve: +her form seemed constantly before him, distracting him with images as +tempting and unsatisfying as is the desert spring with which desire +mocks the thirst of the fainting traveller. At length that relaxation of +strength which in sterner natures takes the place of tears subdued Adam, +a softened feeling crept over him, and, shifting his position so that +he might rest his arms against the corn-bin near, a deep-drawn sigh +escaped him. + +"Hist!" + +Adam started at the sound, and without moving turned his head and looked +rapidly about him. Nothing was to be seen: with the exception of the +small radius round the lantern all was darkness and gloom. + +"Hist!" was repeated, and this time there was no more doubt but that the +sound came from some one close by. + +A clammy sweat stood on Adam's forehead, his tongue felt dry and so +powerless that it needed an effort to force it to move. "Who's there?" +he said. + +"'Tis me--Jonathan." + +Adam caught up the lantern, and, turning it in the direction whence the +voice came, found to his relief that the rays fell upon Jonathan's face. +"Odds rot it, lad!" he exclaimed, "but you've gived me a turn! How the +deuce did you get in here? and why didn't ye come inside to the house +over there?" + +"I've a bin scrooged down 'tween these 'ere sacks for ever so long," +said Jonathan, trying to stretch out his cramped limbs: "I reckon I've +had a bit o' a nap too, for the time ha'n't a took long in goin', and +when I fust come 'twasn't altogether dark." + +"'Tis close on the stroke o' twelve now," said Adam. "But come, what +news, eh? Have ye got hold o' anything yet? Are they devils off for +good? Is that what you've come to tell me?" + +"Iss, they's off this time, I fancy," said Jonathan; "but 'twasn't that +broffed me, though I should ha' comed to tell 'ee o' that too." + +"No? What is it then?" demanded Adam impatiently, turning the light so +that he could get a better command of Jonathan's face. + +"'Twas 'cos o' this," said Jonathan, his voice dropping to a whisper, so +that, though the words were trembling on his lips, his agitation and +excitement almost prevented their utterance: "I've found it out--all of +it--who blowed the gaff 'pon us." + +Adam started forward: his face all but touched Jonathan's, and an +expression of terrible eagerness came into his eyes. + +"'Twas she!" hissed Jonathan--"she--her from London--Eve;" but before +the name was well uttered Adam had thrown himself upon him and was +grasping at his throat as if to throttle him, while a volley of +imprecations poured from his mouth, denouncing the base lie which +Jonathan had dared to utter. A moment more, and this fit of impotent +rage over, he flung him violently off, and stood for a moment trying to +bring back his senses; but the succession of circumstances had been too +much for him: his head swam round, his knees shook under him, and he had +to grasp hold of a beam near to steady himself. + +"What for do 'ee sarve me like that, then?" muttered Jonathan. "I ain't +a-tellin' 'ee no more than I've a-heerd, and what's the truth. Her +name's all over the place," he went on, forgetful of the recent outburst +and warming with his narration. "Her's a reg'lar bad wan; her's +a-carr'ed on with a sodger-chap so well as with Jerrem; her's a--" + +"By the living Lord, if you speak another word I'll be your death!" +exclaimed Adam. + +"Wa-al, and so you may," exclaimed Jonathan doggedly, "if so be you'll +lave me bide 'til I'se seed the end o' she. Why, what do 'ee mane, +then?" he cried, a sudden suspicion throwing a light on Adam's storm of +indignation. "Her bain't nawthin' to you--her's Jerrem's maid: her +bain't your maid? Why," he added, finding that Adam didn't speak, "'twas +through the letter I carr'ed from he that her'd got it to blab about. I +wishes my hand had bin struck off"--and he dashed it violently against +the wooden bin--"afore I'd touched his letter or his money." + +"What letter?" gasped Adam. + +"Wa-al, I knaws you said I warn't to take neither wan; but Jerrem he +coaxes and persuades, and says you ain't to knaw nawthin' about it, and +'tain't nawthin' in it, only 'cos he'd a got a letter fra' she to +Guernsey, and this was t' answer; and then I knawed, 'cos I seed em, +that they was sweetheartin' and that, and--" + +"Did you give her that letter?" said Adam; and the sound of his voice +was so strange that Jonathan shrank back and cowered close to the wall. + +"Iss, I did," he faltered: "leastwise, I gived un to Joan, but t'other +wan had the radin' in it." + +There was a pause, during which Adam stood stunned, feeling that +everything was crumbling and giving way beneath him--that he had no +longer anything to live for, anything to hope, anything to fear. As, one +after another, each former bare suggestion of artifice now passed before +him clothed in the raiment of certain deceit, he made a desperate clutch +at the most improbable, in the wild hope that one falsehood at least +might afford him some ray of light, however feeble, to dispel the +horrors of this terrible darkness. + +"And after she'd got the letter," he said, "what--what about the rest?" + +"Why 'twas this way," cried Jonathan, his eyes rekindling in his +eagerness to tell the story: "somebody dropped a bit of paper into the +rendevoos winder, with writin' 'pon it to say when and where they'd find +the Lottery to. Who 'twas did it none knaws for sartain, but the talk's +got abroad 'twas a sergeant there, 'cos he'd a bin braggin' aforehand +that he'd got a watch-sale and that o' her'n'." + +"Her'n?" echoed Adam. + +"Iss, o' Eve's. And he's allays a-showin' of it off, he is; and when +they axes un questions he doan't answer, but he dangles the sale afront +of 'em and says, 'What d'ee think?' he says; and now he makes his brag +that he shall hab the maid yet, while her man's a-dancin' gallus-high a +top o' Tyburn tree." + +The blood rushed up into Adam's face, so that each vein stood a separate +cord of swollen, bursting rage. + +"They wasn't a-manin' you, ye knaw," said Jonathan: "'twar Jerrem. Her's +played un false, I reckon. Awh!" and he gave a fiendish chuckle, "but +us'll pay her out for't, woan't us, eh? Awnly you give to me the +ticklin' o' her ozel-pipe;" and he made a movement of his bony fingers +that conveyed such a hideous embodiment of his meaning that Adam, +overcome by horror, threw up his arms with a terrible cry to heaven, +and falling prone he let the bitterness of death pass over the love that +had so late lain warm at his heart; while Jonathan crouched down, +trembling and awestricken by the sight of emotion which, though he could +not comprehend nor account for, stirred in him the sympathetic +uneasiness of a dumb animal. Afraid to move or speak, he remained +watching Adam's bent figure until his shallow brain, incapable of any +sustained concentration of thought, wandered off to other interests, +from which he was recalled by a noise, and looking up he saw that Adam +had raised himself and was wiping his face with his handkerchief. Did he +feel so hot, then? No, it must be that he felt cold, for he shivered and +his teeth seemed to chatter as he told Jonathan to stoop down by the +side there and hand him up a jar and a glass that he would find; and +this got, Adam poured out some of its contents, and after tossing it off +told Jonathan to take the jar and help himself, for, as nothing could be +done until daylight, they might as well lie down and try and get some +sleep. Jonathan's relish for spirit once excited, he made himself +tolerably free of the permission, and before long had helped himself to +such purpose that, stretched in a heavy sleep, unless some one roused +him he was not likely to awake for some hours to come. + +Then Adam got up and with cautious movements stole down the ladder, +undid the small hatch-door which opened out on the mill-stream, fastened +it after him, and leaping across stood for a few moments asking himself +what he had come out to do. He didn't know, for as yet, in the tumult of +jealousy and revenge, there was no outlet, no gap, by which he might +drain off any portion of that passionate fire which was rapidly +destroying and consuming all his softer feelings. The story which +Jonathan had brought of the betrayal to the sergeant, the fellow's +boastings and his possession of the seal Adam treated as an idle tale, +its possibility vanquished by his conviction that Eve could have had no +share in it. It was the letter from Jerrem which was the damnatory proof +in Adam's eyes--the proof by which he judged and condemned her; for had +not he himself seen and wondered at Jerrem's anxiety to go to Guernsey, +his elation at finding a letter waiting him, his display of wishing to +be seen secretly reading it, and now his ultimate betrayal of them by +sending an answer to it? + +As for Jerrem--oh he would deal with him as with a dog, and quickly send +him to that fate he so richly deserved. It was not against Jerrem that +the depths of his bitterness welled over: as the strength of his love, +so ran his hate; and this all turned to one direction, and that +direction pointed toward Eve. + +He must see her, stand face to face with her, smite her with reproaches, +heap upon her curses, show her how he could trample on her love and +fling her back her perjured vows. And then? This done, what was there +left? From Jerrem he could free himself. A word, a blow, and all would +be over: but how with her? True, he could kill the visible Eve with his +own hands, but the Eve who lived in his love, would she not live there +still? Ay; and though he flung that body which could court the gaze of +other eyes than his full fathoms deep, the fair image which dwelt before +him would remain present to his vision. So that, do what he would, Eve +would live, must live. Live! Crushing down on that thought came the +terrible consequences which might come of Jonathan's tale being told--a +tale so colored with all their bitterest prejudices that it was certain +to be greedily listened to; and in the storm of angry passion it would +rouse everything else would be swallowed up by resentment against Eve's +baseness; and the fire once kindled, what would come of it? + +The picture which Adam's heated imagination conjured up turned him hot +and cold; an agony of fear crept over him; his heart sickened and grew +faint within him, and the hands which but a few minutes before had +longed to be steeped in her blood now trembled and shook with nervous +dread lest a finger of harm should be laid upon her. + +These and a hundred visions more or less wild coursed through Adam's +brain as his feet took their swift way toward Polperro--not keeping +along the open road, but taking a path which, only known to the +inhabitants, would bring him down almost in front of his own house. + +The night was dark, the sky lowering and cloudy. Not a sound was to be +heard, not a soul had he seen, and already Adam was discussing with +himself how best, without making an alarm, he should awaken Joan and +obtain admittance. Usually bars and bolts were unknown, doors were left +unfastened, windows often open; but now all would be securely shut, and +he would have to rely on the possibility of his signal being heard by +some one who might chance to be on the watch. + +Suddenly a noise fell upon his ear. Surely he heard the sound of +footsteps and the hum of voices. It could never be that the surprise +they deemed a possibility had turned out a certainty. Adam crouched +down, and under the shadow of the wall glided silently along until he +came opposite the corner where the house stood. It was as he feared. +There was no further doubt. The shutters were flung back, the door was +half open, and round it, easing their tired limbs as best they might, +stood crowded together a dozen men, the portion of a party who had +evidently spread themselves about the place. + +Fortunately for Adam, the steps which led up to the wooden orrel or +balcony--at that time a common adornment to the Polperro +houses--afforded him a tolerably safe retreat, and, screened here, he +remained a silent watcher, hearing only a confused murmur and seeing +nothing save an occasional movement as one and the other changed posts +and passed in and out of the opposite door. At length a general parley +seemed to take place: the men fell into rank and at a slow pace moved +off down the street in the direction of the quay. Adam looked cautiously +out. The door was now closed. Dare he open it? Might he not find that a +sentinel had been left behind? How about the other door? The chances +against it were as bad. The only possible way of ingress was by a +shutter in the wall which overlooked the brook and communicated with the +hiding-place in which his father lay secreted. This shutter had been +little used since the days of press-gangs. It was painted in so exact an +imitation of the slated house-wall as to defy detection, and to mark the +spot to the initiated eye a root of house-leek projected out below and +served to further screen the opening from view. The contrivance of this +shutter-entrance was well known to Adam, and the mode of reaching it +familiar to him: therefore if he could but elude observation he was +certain of success. + +The plan once decided on, he began putting it into execution, and +although it seemed half a lifetime to him, but very few minutes had +elapsed before he had crossed the road, ran waist-high into the brook, +scaled the wall and scrambled down almost on top of old Zebedee, who, +stupefied by continual drink, sleep and this constant confinement, took +the surprise in a wonderfully calm manner. + +"Hist, father! 'tis only me--Adam." + +"A' right! a' right!" stammered Zebedee, too dazed to take in the whole +matter at once. "What is it, lad, eh? They darned galoots ha'n't a +tracked 'ee, have 'em? By the hooky! but they'm givin' 't us hot and +strong this time, Adam: they was trampin' 'bout inside here a minit +agone, tryin' to keep our sperrits up by a-rattlin' the bilboes in our +ears. Why, however did 'ee dodge 'em, eh? What's the manin' o' it all?" + +"I thought they was gone," said Adam, "so I came down to see how you +were all getting on here." + +"Iss, iss, sure. Wa-al, all right, I s'pose, but I ha'n't a bin let +outside much: Joan won't have it, ye knaw. Poor Joan!" he sighed, "her's +terrible moody-hearted 'bout 't all; and so's Eve too. I never see'd +maids take on as they'm doin'; but there! I reckon 'twill soon be put a +end to now." + +"How so?" said Adam. + +"Wa-al, you mustn't knaw, down below, more than you'm tawld," said the +old man with a significant wink and a jerk of his head, "but Jerrem he +let me into it this ebenin' when he rinned up to see me for a bit. +Seems one o' they sodger-chaps is carr'in' on with Eve, and Jerrem's +settin' her on to rig un up so that her'll get un not to see what +'tain't maned for un to look at." + +"Well?" said Adam. + +"Iss," said Zebedee, "but will it be well? That's what I keeps axin' of +un. He's cock sure, sartain, that they can manage it all. He's sick, he +says, o' all this skulkin', and he's blamed if he'll go on standin' it, +neither." + +"Oh!" hissed Adam, "he's sick of it, is he?" and in the effort he made +to subdue his voice the veins in his face rose up to be purple cords. +"He'd nothing to do with bringing it on us all? it's no fault of his +that the place is turned into a hell and we hunted down like a pack o' +dogs?" + +"Awh, well, I dawn't knaw nuffin 'bout that," said old Zebedee, huffily. +"How so be if 'tis so, when he's got clane off 'twill be all right +agen." + +"All right?" thundered Adam--"how all right? Right that he should get +off and we be left here?--that he shouldn't swing, but we must stay to +suffer?" + +"Awh, come, come, come!" said the old man with the testy impatience of +one ready to argue, but incapable of reasoning. "'Tain't no talk o' +swingin', now: that was a bit o' brag on the boy's part: he's so eager +to save his neck as you or me either. Awnly Jonathan's bin here and +tawld up summat that makes un want to be off to wance, for he says, what +us all knaws, without he's minded to it you can't slip a knot round +Jonathan's clapper; and 'tain't that Jerrem's afeared o' his tongue, +awnly for the keepin' up o' pace and quietness he fancies 'twould be +better for un to make hisself scarce for a bit." + +Adam's whole body quivered as a spasm of rage ran through him; and +Zebedee, noting the trembling movement of his hands, conveyed his +impression of the cause by bestowing a glance, accompanied with a +pantomimic bend of his elbow, in the direction of a certain stone bottle +which stood in the corner. + +"Did Jonathan tell you what word 'twas he'd brought?" Adam managed to +say. + +"Noa: I never cast eyes on un. He warn't here 'bove a foo minits 'fore +he slipped away, none of 'em knaws where or how. He was warned not to go +anighst you," he added after a moment's pause; "so I reckon you knaws no +more of un than us does." + +"And Eve and Joan? were they let into the secret?" asked Adam; and the +sound of his harsh voice grated even on Zebedee's dulled ears. + +"Iss, I reckon," he said, half turning, "'cos Eve's got to do the trick: +her's to bamfoozle the sodger.--Odds rot it, lad!" he cried, startled at +the expression which leaped into Adam's haggard face, "what's come to +'ee that you must turn round 'pon us like that? Is it the maid you's got +a spite agen? Lors! but 'tis a poor stomach you's got to'rds her if +you'm angered by such a bit o' philanderin' as I've tawld 'ee of. What +d'ee mane, then?" he added, his temper rising at such unwarrantable +inconsistency. "I've knawed as honest women as ever her is that's a done +that, and more too, for to get their men safe off and out o' way--iss, +and wasn't thought none the wus of, neither. You'm growed mighty +fancikul all to wance 'bout what us is to do and what us dussn't think +o'. I'm sick o' such talk. 'Taint nawthin' else fra' mornin' to night +but Adam this and Adam that. I'm darned if 'tis to be wondered at if the +maid plays 'ee false: by gosh! I'd do the trick, if I was she, 'fore I'd +put up with such fantads from you or either man like 'ee. So there!" + +Adam did not answer, and old Zebedee, interpreting the silence into an +admission of the force of his arguments, forbore to press the advantage +and generously started a fresh topic. "They's a tawld 'ee, I reckon, +'bout the bill they's a posted up, right afore the winder, by the Three +Pilchards," he said. "Iss," he added, not waiting for an answer, "the +king's pardon and wan hunderd pound to be who'll discover to 'em the man +who 'twas fired the fatal shot. Wan hunderd pound!" he sneered. "That's +a fat lot, surely; and as for t' king's pardon, why 'twudn't lave un +braithin'-time to spend it in--not if he war left here, 'twudn't. No +fear! Us ain't so bad off yet that either wan in Polperro 'ud stink +their fingers wi' blid-money. Lord save un! sich a man 'ud fetch up the +divil hisself to see un pitched head foremost down to bottom o' say, +which 'ud be the end I'd vote for un, and see it was carr'd out +too--iss, tho' his bones bore my own flesh and blid 'pon 'em, I wud;" +and in his anger the old man's rugged face grew distorted with emotion. + +But Adam neither spoke nor made comment on his words. His eyes were +fixed on mid-air, his nostrils worked, his mouth quivered. Within him a +legion of devils seemed to have broken loose, and, sensible of the +mastery they were gaining over him, he leaped up and with the wild +despair of one who catches at a straw to save him from destruction, it +came upon him to rush down and look once more into the face of her whom +he had found so fair and proved so false. + +"What is it you'm goin' to do, then?" said Zebedee, seeing that Adam had +stooped down and was raising the panel by which exit was effected. + +"Goin' to see if the coast's clear," said Adam. + +"Better bide where you be," urged Zebedee. "Joan or they's sure to rin +up so soon as 'tis all safe." + +But Adam paid no heed: muttering something about knowing what he was +about, he slipped up the partition and crept under, cautiously +ascertained that the outer room was empty, and then, crossing the +passage, stole down the stairs. + +The door which led into the room was shut, but through a convenient +chink Adam could take a survey of those within. Already his better self +had begun to struggle in his ear, already the whisper which desire was +prompting asked what if Eve stood there alone and--But no, his glance +had taken in the whole: quick as the lightning's flash the details of +that scene were given to Adam's gaze--Eve, bent forward, standing beside +the door, over whose hatch a stranger's face was thrust, while Joan, +close to the spot where Jerrem still lay hid, clasped her two hands as +if to stay the breath which longed to cry, "He's free!"... The blow +dealt, the firebrand flung, each evil passion quickened into life, +filled with jealousy and mad revenge, Adam turned swiftly round and +backward sped his way. + +"They'm marched off, ain't 'em?" said old Zebedee as, Adam having given +the signal, he drew the panel of the door aside. "I've a bin listenin' +to their trampin' past.--Why, what's the time, lad, eh?--must be close +on break o' day, ain't it?" + +"Just about," said Adam, pushing back the shutter so that he might look +out and see that no one stood near enough to overlook his descent. + +"Why, you bain't goin' agen, be 'ee?" said Zebedee in amazement. "Why, +what for be 'ee hikin' off like this, then--eh, lad?--Lord save us, he's +gone!" he exclaimed as Adam, swinging himself by a dexterous twist on to +the first ledge, let the shutter close behind him. "Wa-al, I'm blamed if +this ain't a rum start! Summat gone wrong with un now. I'll wager he's a +bin tiched up in the bunt somehows, for a guinea; and if so be, 'tis +with wan o' they. They'm all sixes and sebens down below; so I'll lave +'em bide a bit, and hab a tot o' liquor and lie down for a spell. Lord +send 'em to knaw the vally o' pace and quietness! But 'tis wan and all +the same-- + + Friends and faws, + To battle they gaws; + And what they all fights about + Nawbody knaws." + +It was broad daylight when Joan, having once before failed to make her +uncle hear, gave such a vigorous rap that, starting up, the old man +cried, "Ay, ay, mate!" and with all speed unfastened the door. + +Joan crept in and some conversation ensued, in the midst of which, as +the recollection of the events just past occurred to his mind, Zebedee +asked, "What was up with Adam?" + +"With Adam?" echoed Joan. + +"Iss: what made un start off like he did?" + +Joan looked for a minute, then she lifted the stone bottle and shook its +contents. "Why, whatever be 'ee tellin' up?" she said. + +"Tellin' up? Why, you seed un down below, didn't 'ee? Iss you did now." + +Completely puzzled what to think, Joan shook her head. + +"Lor' ha' massy! don't never tell me he didn't shaw hisself. Why, the +sodgers was barely out o' doors 'fore he comes tumblin' in to shutter +there, and after a bit he says, 'I'll just step down below,' he says, +and out he goes; and in a quarter less no time back he comes tappin' +agen, and when I drawed open for un by he pushes, and 'fore I could say +'Knife' he was out and clane off." + +"You haven't a bin dreamin' of it, have 'ee?" said Joan, her face +growing pale with apprehension. + +"Naw, 'tis gospel truth, every ward. I've a had a toothful of liquor +since, and a bit o' caulk, but not a drap more." + +"Jerrem's comin' up into t'other room," said Joan, not wishing to betray +all the alarm she felt: "will 'ee go into un there the whiles I rins +down and says a word to Eve?" + +"Iss," said the old man, "and I'll freshen mysen up a bit with a dash o' +cold watter: happen I may bring some more o' it to my mind then." + +But, his ablutions over and the whole family assembled, Zebedee could +throw no more light on the subject, the recital of which caused so much +anxiety that Joan, yielding to Eve's entreaties, decided to set off with +all speed for Crumplehorne. + +"Mother, Adam's all right? ain't he here still, and safe?" cried Joan, +bursting into the kitchen where Mrs. Tucker, only just risen, was +occupied with her house-duties. + +"Iss, plaise the Lord, and, so far as I knaws of, he is," replied Mrs. +Tucker, greatly startled by Joan's unexpected appearance. "Why, what do +'ee mane, child, eh? But there!" she added starting up, "us'll make sure +to wance and knaw whether 'tis lies or truth we'm tellin'.--Here, Sammy, +off ever so quick as legs can carry 'ee, and climber up and fetch Adam +back with 'ee." + +Sammy started off, and Joan proceeded to communicate the cause of her +uneasiness. + +"Awh, my dear, is that all?" exclaimed Mrs. Tucker, at once pronouncing +sentence on poor old Zebedee's known failing: "then my mind's made easy +agen. There's too much elbow-crookin' 'bout that story for me to set any +hold by it." + +"Do 'ee think so?" said Joan, ready to catch at any straw of hope. + +"Why, iss; and for this reason too. I--" + +But at this moment Sammy appeared, and, without waiting for him to +speak, the two women uttered a cry as they saw in his face a +confirmation of their fears. "Iss, 'tis every ward true; he's a gone +shure 'nuf," exclaimed Sammy; "but by his own accord, I reckon, 'cos +there ain't no signs o' nothin' bein' open 'ceptin 'tis the hatch over +by t' mill-wheel." + +"Awh, mother," cried Joan, "whatever can be the manin' of it? My poor +heart's a sinkin' down lower than iver. Oh Lord! if they should ha' +cotched un, anyways!" + +"Now, doan't 'ee take on like that, Joan," said Mrs. Tucker. "'Tis like +temptin' o' Providence to do such like. I'll be bound for't he's safe +home alongst afore now: he ain't like wan to act wild and go steppin' +into danger wi' both his eyes wide open." + +The possibility suggested, and Joan was off again, back on her way to +Polperro, too impatient to wait while her mother put on her bonnet to +accompany her. + +At the door stood Eve, breathless expectation betraying itself in her +every look and gesture. Joan shook her head, while Eve's finger, quick +laid upon her lip, warned her to be cautious. + +"They're back," she muttered as Joan came up close: "they've just +marched past and gone down to the quay." + +"What for?" cried Joan. + +"I don't know. Run and see, Joan: everybody's flocking that way." + +Joan ran down the street, and took her place among a mob of people +watching with eager interest the movements of a soldier who, with much +unnecessary parade and delay, was taking down the bill of reward posted +outside the Three Pilchards. A visible anticipation of the effect about +to be produced stirred the small red-coated company, and they wheeled +round so as to take note of any sudden emotion produced by the surprise +they felt sure awaited the assembly. + +"Whatever is it, eh?" asked Joan, trying to catch a better sight of what +was going on. + +"They'm stickin' up a noo reward, 't seems," said an old man close by. +"'Tain't no--" + +But the swaying back of the crowd carried Joan with it. A surge forward, +and then on her ear fell a shrill cry, and as the name of Jerrem +Christmas started from each mouth a hundred eyes seemed turned upon her. +For a moment the girl stood dazed, staring around like some wild animal +at bay: then, flinging out her arms, she forced those near her aside, +and rushing forward to the front made a desperate clutch at the soldier. +"Speak! tell me! what's writ there?" she cried. + +"Writ there?" said the man, startled by the scared face that was turned +up to him. "Why, the warrant to seize for murder Jerrem Christmas, +living or dead, on the king's evidence of Adam Pascal." + +And the air was rent by a cry of unutterable woe, caught up by each +voice around, and coming back in echoes from far and near long after +Joan lay a senseless heap on the stones upon which she had fallen. + + _The Author of "Dorothy Fox."_ + +[TO BE CONTINUED.] + + + + +SEVEN WEEKS A MISSIONARY. + + +The sights of Honolulu had not lost their novelty--the tropical foliage +of palm, banana, bread-fruit, monkey-pod and algaroba trees; the +dark-skinned, brightly-clad natives with flowers on their heads, who +walked with bare feet and stately tread along the shady sidewalks or +tore through the streets on horseback; the fine stone or wooden +residences with wide cool verandas, or humbler native huts surrounded by +walls of coral-rock instead of fences; the deep indigo-blue ocean on one +hand and the rich green mountains on the other, dripping with moisture +and alternately dark and bright with the gloom of clouds and the glory +of rainbows, still wore for me their original freshness and +interest--when I received an urgent request to come to Waialua, a little +village on the other side of the island. My host, to whom the note was +addressed, explained to me that there was a mission-school at that +place, a seminary for native girls. It was conducted by Miss G----, the +daughter of one of the missionaries who first came to the Hawaiian +Islands fifty years before. She had been sent to this country to be +educated, like most of the children of the early missionaries, and had +returned to devote herself to the mental, moral and physical welfare of +the native girls--a task which she was now accomplishing with all the +fervor, devotion and self-sacrifice of a Mary Lyon. + +At this juncture she had forty-five girls, from six to eighteen, under +her care, and but one assistant. The English teacher who had assisted +her for several years had lately married, and the place was still +vacant. She wrote to my host, saying that she had heard there was a +teacher from California at his house, and begging me, through him, to +come and help her a few weeks. I signified my willingness to go, and in +a few days Miss G----, accompanied by a native girl, came on horseback +to meet me and conduct me to Waialua. A gentleman of Honolulu, his +sister and a native woman called Maria, who were going to Waialua and +beyond, joined us, so that our party consisted of six. We were variously +mounted, on horses of different appearance and disposition, and carried +our luggage and lunch in saddle-bags strapped on behind. Maria's outfit +especially interested me. It was the usual costume for native women, and +consisted of a long flowing black garment called a _holoku_, gathered +into a yoke at the shoulders and falling unconfined to her bare feet. +Around her neck she wore a bright red silk handkerchief, and on her head +a straw hat ornamented with a _lei_, or wreath of fresh, fragrant +flowers, orange or jasmine. Men, women and children wear these wreaths, +either on their heads or around their necks. Sometimes they consist +of the bright yellow _ilimu_-flowers or brilliant scarlet +pomegranate-blossoms strung on a fibre of the banana-stalk--sometimes +they are woven of ferns or of a fragrant wild vine called _maile_. Maria +was seated astride on a wiry little black horse, and instead of slipping +her bare feet into the stirrups she clasped the irons with her toes. +Besides her long, flowing black dress she wore a width of bright +red-flowered damask tied around her waist, caught into the stirrup on +either side and flowing a yard or two behind. + +Waialua, our destination, was about a third of the way around the +island, but the road, instead of following the sea-coast all the way, +took a short cut across an inland plateau, so that the distance was but +twenty-seven miles. We started about one o'clock in the afternoon, the +hour when the streets are least frequented, and rode past the shops and +stores shaded with awnings, past the bazaars where sea-shells and white +and pink coral are offered for sale, through the fish-market where +shellfish and hideous-looking squid and bright fish, colored like +rainbows or the gayest tropical parrots, lay on little tables or floated +in tanks of sea-water. Men with bundles of green grass or hay for sale +made way for us as we passed, and the fat, short-legged dogs scattered +right and left. + +Although it was December, the air was warm and balmy, tree and fruit and +flower were in the glory of endless summer, and the ladies seated on +verandas or swinging in hammocks wore white dresses. For one who dreads +harsh, cold winters the climate of Honolulu is perfection. At the end of +King street we crossed a long bridge over the river, which at that point +widens out into a marsh bordered by reeds and rushes. Here we saw a +number of native canoes resting on poles above the water. They were +about twenty feet long and quite narrow, being hollowed out of +tree-trunks. An outrigger attached to one side serves to balance them in +the water. A fine smooth road built on an embankment of stone and earth +leads across this marsh to a strip of higher land near the sea where the +prison buildings stand. They are of gray stone, with miniature towers, +surrounded by a wall capped with stone, the whole surmounted by a tower +from which waves the Hawaiian flag. In front is a smooth lawn where grow +century-plants and ornamental shrubs, including the India-rubber tree. +It is much finer than the so-called palace of the king, a many-roomed, +one-story wooden cottage in the centre of the city, surrounded by a +large grassy yard enclosed by a high wall. + +The land beyond the marshes is planted in _taro_ and irrigated by a +network of streams. Taro is the principal article of food used by the +natives: the root, which looks somewhat like a gray sweet potato, is +made into a paste called _poi_, and the tops are eaten as greens. The +plant grows about two feet high, and has an arrow-shaped leaf larger +than one's hand. Like rice, it grows in shallow pools of water, and a +patch of it looks like an inundated garden. As we passed along we saw +half-clad natives standing knee-deep in mud and water pulling the +full-grown plants or putting in young ones. Reaching higher ground, we +cantered along a hard, smooth road bordered with short green grass. On +either side were dwellings of wood surrounded by broad-leafed banana +trees, with here and there a little shop for the sale of fruit. This is +a suburb of Honolulu and is called Kupalama. We met a number of natives +on horseback going into town, the men dressed in shirts and trousers of +blue or white cotton cloth, the women wearing the long loose gowns I +have described. + +At last we reached the open country, and started fairly on our long +ride. On our left was the ocean with "league-long rollers thundering on +the reef:" on our right, a few miles away, was a line of mountains, +divided into numerous spurs and peaks by deep valleys richly clothed in +tropical verdure. The country about us was uncultivated and generally +open, but here and there were straggling lines of low stone walls +overgrown with a wild vine resembling our morning-glory, the masses of +green leaves starred with large pink flowers. The algaroba, a graceful +tree resembling the elm, grew along the roadside, generally about +fifteen feet high. In Honolulu, where they are watered and cared for, +these trees attain a height of thirty or forty feet, sending forth long +swaying branches in every direction and forming beautiful shade trees. +Now and then we crossed water-courses, where the banks were carpeted +with short green grass and bordered with acacia-bushes covered with +feathery leaves and a profusion of yellow ball-shaped flowers that +perfumed the air with their fragrance. The view up and down these +winding flower-bordered streams was lovely. We rode for miles over this +monotonous country, gradually rising to higher ground. Suddenly, almost +at our very feet, a little bowl-shaped valley about half a mile in +circumference opened to view. The upper rim all around was covered with +smooth green grass, and the sides were hidden by the foliage of +dark-green mango trees, light-green _kukui_, bread-fruit and banana. +Coffee had formerly been cultivated here, and a few bushes still grew +wild, bearing fragrant white flowers or bright red berries. Through the +bottom of the valley ran a little stream, and on its banks were three or +four grass huts beneath tufts of tall cocoanut palms. Several +scantily-clad children rolled about on the ground, and in the shade of a +tamarind tree an old gray-headed man was pounding taro-root. The gray +mass lay before him on a flat stone, and he pounded it with a stone +pestle, then dipped his hands into a calabash of water and kneaded it. A +woman was bathing in the stream, and another stood at the door of one of +the huts holding her child on her hip. + +We passed through three other deep valleys like this, and in every case +they opened suddenly to view--hidden nests of tropical foliage and +color. The natives were seated in circles under the trees eating poi, or +wading in the stream looking for fish, or lounging on the grass near +their huts as though life were one long holiday. + +Now we entered a vast sunburnt plain overgrown with huge thorny cactus +twelve or fifteen feet high. Without shade or water or verdure it +stretched before us to distant table-lands, upholding mountains whose +peaks were veiled in cloud. The solitude of the plain was rendered more +impressive by the absence of wild creatures of any kind: there were no +birds nor insects nor ground-squirrels nor snakes. The cactus generally +grew in clumps, but sometimes it formed a green prickly wall on either +side of the road, between which we had to pass as between the bayonets +of sentinels. Wherever the road widened out we clattered along, six +abreast, at full speed. Maria, the native woman, presented a picturesque +appearance with her black dress and long flowing streamers of bright +red. She was an elderly woman--perhaps fifty years old--but as active as +a young girl, and a good rider. She had an unfailing fund of good-humor, +and talked and laughed a great deal. My other companions, with the +exception of the native girl, were children of early missionaries, and +enlivened the journey by many interesting incidents of island life. At +last we crossed the cactus desert, ascended an eminence, and then sank +into a valley grand and deep, shut in by walls carved in fantastic shape +by the action of water. Our road was a narrow pathway, paved with +stone, that wound down the face of the cliff. The natives call this +place Ki-pa-pa, which signifies "paved way." + +As we were making the descent on one side we saw a party of natives on +horseback winding down on the opposite. First rode three men, single +file, with children perched in front of them, then three or four women +in black or gay-colored holokus, then a boy who led two pack-mules laden +with large baskets. All wore wreaths of ferns or flowers. When we met +they greeted us with a hearty "_Aloha!_" ("Love to you!"), and in reply +to a question in Hawaiian said that they were going to Honolulu with +fresh fish, bananas and oranges. + +We climbed the rocky pathway rising out of the valley, and found +ourselves on the high table-land toward which we had shaped our course. +It was smooth as a floor and covered with short rich grass. Instead of a +broad road there were about twenty parallel paths stretching on before +us as far as we could see, furrowed by the feet of horses and +pack-mules. Miles away on either side was a line of lofty mountains +whose serrated outlines were sharply defined against the evening sky. +Darkness overtook us on this plateau, and the rest of the journey is a +confused memory of steep ravines down whose sides we cautiously made our +way, torrents of foaming water which we forded, expanses of dark plain, +and at last the murmur of the ocean on the reef. After reaching +sea-level again we passed between acres and acres of taro-patches where +the water mirrored the large bright stars and the arrow-shaped leaves +cast sharp-pointed shadows. We rode through the quiet little village of +Waialua, sleeping beneath the shade of giant pride-of-India and kukui +trees, without meeting any one, and forded the Waialua River just where +it flows over silver sands into the sea. As we paused to let our horses +drink I looked up at the cluster of cocoanut palms that grew upon the +bank, and noticed how distinctly each feathery frond was pencilled +against the sky, then down upon the placid river and out upon the gently +murmuring sea, and thought that I had never gazed upon a more peaceful +scene. Little did I think that it would soon be associated with danger +and dismay. Beyond the river were two or three native huts thatched with +grass, and a little white cottage, the summer home of Princess Lydia, +the king's sister. Passing these, we rode over a smooth green lawn +glittering with large bright dewdrops, and dismounted in front of the +seminary-gate. The large whitewashed brick house, two stories and a half +high, with wide verandas around three sides, looks toward the sea. In +front of it is a garden filled with flowers and vines and shrubbery, the +pride and care of the school-girls. There are oleander trees with +rose-colored blossoms, pomegranate trees whose flowers glow amid the +dark-green foliage like coals of fire, and orange and lime trees covered +with fragrant white flowers, which the girls string and wear around +their necks. Besides roses, heliotrope, geraniums, sweet-pea, nasturtium +and other familiar flowers, there are fragrant Japanese lilies, and also +plants and shrubs from the Micronesian Islands. On one side is a grove +of tamarind and kukui-nut trees, mingled with tall cocoanut palms, which +stretches to the deep, still river, a few rods away: on the other is the +school-house, a two-story frame, painted white, shaded by tall +pride-of-India trees and backed by a field of corn. My room opened on a +veranda shaded with kukui trees, and as the "coo-coo-ee coo-coo-ee" of +the doves in the branches came to my ears I thought that the trees had +received their name from the notes of the doves, but afterward learnt +that _kukui_ in the Hawaiian language meant "light," and that the nuts, +being full of oil, were strung on bamboo poles by the natives and used +as torches. + +The morning after my arrival I saw the girls at breakfast, and found +them of all shades of complexion from deep chocolate-brown to white. +Their glossy black hair, redolent of cocoanut oil, was ornamented with +fresh flowers, and their bright black eyes danced with fun or languished +with sullen scorn. The younger ones were bright and happy in their +expression, but the older ones seemed already to realize the curse that +rests upon their decaying race, and to move with melancholy languor, as +if brooding over it in stifled rebellion or resigned apathy. Some would +be called beautiful anywhere: they were graceful in form, had fine +regular features and lovely, expressive eyes; others were attractive +only on account of their animation; while one comical little negro girl, +who had somehow got mixed with the Malay race, was as ugly as a +Hottentot, and a veritable imp of darkness, as I afterward learned, so +far as mischief was concerned. The girls were dressed in calico, and +wore no shoes or stockings. When they had eaten their beef and poi, and +we had finished our breakfast, each girl got her Hawaiian Testament and +read a verse: then Miss G----, the principal, offered prayer in the same +language. When this was over the routine work of the day began. Some of +the older girls remained in the dining-room to put away the food, wash +the dishes and sweep the floor; one went to the kitchen to wash the pots +and pans; and the younger ones dispersed to various tasks--to sweep and +dust the parlor, the sitting-room or the school-room, to gather up the +litter of leaves and branches from the yard and garden-paths, or to put +the teachers' rooms in order. The second floor and attic, both filled +with single beds covered with mosquito-netting, were the girls' +dormitories. Each girl was expected to make her own bed and hang up her +clothes or put them away in her trunk. A _luna_, or overseer, in each +dormitory superintended this work, and reported any negligence on the +part of a girl to one of the teachers. + +Miss G---- was the life and soul of the institution--principal and +housekeeper and accountant, all in one. She had a faithful and devoted +assistant in Miss P----, a young woman of twenty-two, the daughter of a +missionary then living in Honolulu. My duties were to teach classes in +English in the forenoon and to oversee the sewing and some departments +of housekeeping in the afternoon. Miss P---- had the smaller children, +Miss G---- taught the larger ones in Hawaiian and gave music-lessons. + +The routine of the school-room from nine to twelve in the forenoon and +from one till four in the afternoon was that of any ordinary school, +except that the girls who prepared the meals were excused earlier than +the others. One day in the week was devoted to washing and ironing down +on the river-bank and in the shade of the tamarind trees. + +The girls had to be taught many things besides the lessons in their +books. At home they slept on mats on the floor, ate poi out of +calabashes with their fingers and wore only the holoku. Here they were +required to eat at table with knife and fork and spoon, to sleep in beds +and to adopt the manners and customs of civilization. Now and then, as a +special privilege, they asked to be allowed to eat "native fashion," and +great was their rejoicing and merrymaking as they sat, crowned with +flowers, on the veranda-floor and ate poi and raw fish with their +fingers, and talked Hawaiian. They were required to talk English usually +until the four-o'clock bell sounded in the afternoon. From that until +supper-time they were allowed to talk native, and their tongues ran +fast. + +On Wednesday afternoons the girls went to bathe in the river, and on +Saturday afternoons to bathe in the sea. It usually fell to my lot to +accompany them. The river, back of the house a few rods, had steep banks +ten or fifteen feet high and a deep, still current. The girls would +start to run as soon as they left the house, race with each other all +the way and leap from the bank into the river below. Presently their +heads would appear above water, and, laughing and blowing and shaking +the drops from their brown faces, they would swim across the river. The +older girls could dive and swim under water for some distance. They had +learned to swim as soon as they had learned to walk. They sometimes +brought up fish in their hands, and one girl told me that her father +could dive and bring up a fish in each hand and one in his mouth. The +little silver-fish caught in their dress-skirts they ate raw. The girls +were always glad when the time came to go swimming in the sea, for they +were very fond of a green moss which grew on the reef, and the whole +crowd would sit on rocks picking and eating it while the spray dashed +over them. + +_Waialua_ means "the meeting of the waters," or, literally, "two +waters," and the place is named from the perpetual flow and counterflow +of the river and the ocean tide. The river pours into the sea, the sea +at high tide surges up the river, beating back its waters, and the foam +and spray of the contending floods are dashed high into the air, +bedewing the cluster of cocoanut palms that stand on the bank above +watching this perpetual conflict. In calm weather and at low tide there +is a truce between the waters, and the river flows calmly into the sea; +but immediately after a storm, when the river is flooded with rains from +the mountains and the sea hurls itself upon the reef with a shock and a +roar, then the antagonism between the meeting waters is at its height +and the clash and uproar of their fury are great. + +Sometimes we went on picnic excursions to places in the neighborhood--to +the beach of Waiamea, a mile or two distant, where thousands of pretty +shells lay strewn upon the sand and branches of white coral could be had +for the picking up, or to the orange-groves and indigo-thickets on the +mountain-sides, where large sweet oranges ripened, coming back wreathed +with ferns and the fragrant vine maile. + +But we had plenty of oranges without going after them. For half a dollar +we could buy a hundred large fine oranges from the natives, who brought +them to the door, and we usually kept a tin washing-tub full of the +delicious fruit on hand. A _real_ (twelve and a half cents) would buy a +bunch of bananas so heavy that it took two of us to lift it to the hook +in the veranda-ceiling, and limes and small Chinese oranges grew +plentifully in the front yard. Of cocoanuts and tamarinds we made no +account, they were so common. Guavas grew wild on bushes in the +neighborhood, and made delicious pies. For vegetables we had taro, sweet +potatoes and something that tasted just like summer squash, but which +grew in thick, pulpy clusters on a tree. The taro was brought to us +just as it was pulled, roots and nodding green tops, and of the donkey +who was laden with it little showed but his legs and his ears as his +master led him up to the gate. Another old man furnished boiled and +pounded taro, which the girls mixed with water and made into poi. He +brought it in large bundles wrapped in broad green banana-leaves and +tied with fibres of the stalk. He had two daughters in the school, and +always inquired about their progress in their studies. One day, +happening to look out of the front door, I saw him coming up the +garden-walk. He had nothing on but a shirt and a _malo_ (a strip of +cloth) about his loins: the malo was all that the natives formerly wore. +Neither the girls who were weeding their garden, nor the other teachers +who were at work in the parlor, seemed to think that there was anything +remarkable in his appearance. He talked with Miss G---- as usual about +the supply of taro for the school, and inquired how his girls were +doing. When he was going away she said, "Uncle, why do you not wear your +clothes when you come to see us? I thought you had laid aside the +heathen fashion." He replied that he had but one suit of clothes, and +that he must save them to wear to church, adding that he was anxious to +give his daughters an education, and must economize in some way in order +to pay for their schooling. + +The fuel needed for cooking was brought down from the mountains by the +native boy who milked the cows for us and took Calico, Miss G----'s +riding horse, to water and to pasture. One day, when one of the girls +had started a fire in the stove, a fragrance like incense diffused +itself through the house. Hastening to the kitchen, I pulled out a +half-burned piece of sandal-wood and put it away in my collection of +shells and island curiosities. A few days afterward an old native man +named Ka-hu-kai (Sea-shore), who lived in one of the grass huts near the +front gate, came to sell me a piece of fragrant wood of another kind. He +had learned that I attached a value to such things, and expected to get +a good price. He inquired for the _wahine haole_ (foreign woman), and +presented his bit of wood, saying that he would sell it for a dollar. I +declined to purchase. He walked down through the garden and across the +lawn, but paused at the big gate for several minutes, then retraced his +steps. Holding out the wood again, he said, "This is my thought: you may +have it for a real." I gave him a real, and he went away satisfied. + +Every Sunday we crossed the bridge that spanned Waialua River near the +ford, and made our way to the huge old-fashioned mission-church, which +stood in an open field surrounded by prickly pears six or eight feet +high. The thorny prickly pears were stiff and ungraceful, but a delicate +wild vine grew all over them and hung in festoons from the top. While +Pai-ku-li, the native minister, preached a sermon in Hawaiian, I, not +understanding a word, looked at the side pews where the old folks sat, +and tried to picture the life they had known in their youth, when the +great Kamehameha reigned. In the pew next to the side door sat Mr. +Sea-shore, straight and solemn as a deacon, and his wife, a fat old +woman with a face that looked as if it had been carved out of knotty +mahogany, but which was irradiated with an expression of kindness and +good-nature. She wore a long black holoku, and on her head was perched a +little sailor hat with a blue ribbon round it, which would have been +suitable for a girl six or eight years old, but which looked decidedly +comical and out of place on Mrs. Sea-shore. She was barefooted, as I +presently saw. Two or three times during the sermon a red-eyed, +dissipated-looking dog with a baked taro-root in his mouth had come to +the door, and seemed about to enter, but Mrs. Sea-shore, without +disturbing the devotions, had kept him back by threatening gestures. But +when the minister began to pray and nearly every head was bowed, the dog +came sneaking in. Mrs. Sea-shore happened to raise her head, and saw +him. Drawing back her holoku, she extended her bare foot and planted a +vigorous kick in his ribs, exclaiming at the same time in an explosive +whisper, "Hala palah!" ("Get out!" or "Begone!") The dog went forth +howling, and did not return. + +A few days later Miss G----'s shoulder was sprained by a fall from her +horse, and she sent for Mrs. Sea-shore. The old woman came and +_lomi-lomi_-ed the shoulder--kneaded it with her hands--until the pain +and stiffness were gone, then extracted the oil from some kukui-nuts by +chewing them and applied it to the sprain. All the time she kept up a +chatter in Hawaiian, talking, asking questions and showing her white +teeth in hearty, good-humored laughs. In answer to the questions I put +to her through Miss G----, she told us much about her early life, the +superstitions and _taboos_ that forbade men and women to eat together +and imposed many meaningless and foolish restrictions, and about her +children, who had died and gone to Po, the great shadowy land, where, as +she once believed, their spirits had been eaten by the gods. We formed +quite a friendship for each other, and she came often to see me, but +would not come into the house any farther than the veranda or front +hall, and there, refusing our offer of a chair, she would sit on the +floor. I spoke of going to see her in return, but she said that her +house was not good enough to receive me, and begged me not to come. Just +before I left Waialua she brought a mat she had woven out of the long +leaves of the pandanus or screw pine, a square of _tappa_, or native +cloth, as large as a sheet, made from the bark of a tree, and the +tappa-pounder she had made it with (a square mallet with different +patterns cut on each of the four faces), and gave them to me. I offered +her money in return, but she refused it, saying she had given the things +out of _aloha_, or love for me. On my return to Honolulu I got the most +gorgeous red silk Chinese handkerchief that could be found in Ah Fong +and Ah Chuck's establishment and sent it to her, and Miss G---- wrote me +that she wore it round her neck at church every Sunday. + +One of my duties was to go through the dormitories the last thing at +night, and see that the doors were fastened and that the girls had their +mosquito-netting properly arranged, and were not sleeping with their +heads under the bedclothes. A heathen superstition, of which they were +half ashamed, still exercised an influence over them, and they were +afraid that the spirits of their dead relatives would come back from Po +and haunt them in the night. They would not confess to this fear, but +many of them, ruled by it, covered their heads with the bedclothes every +night. In my rounds, besides clouds of bloodthirsty mosquitos, I +frequently saw centipedes crawling along the floor or wall or up the +netting, and sometimes a large tarantula would dart forth from his +hiding-place in some nook or corner. The centipedes were often six or +seven inches long. They were especially numerous during or immediately +after rainy weather. Little gray and green lizards (_mo-o_) glided about +the verandas, but they were harmless. Scorpions are common in the +islands, but we were not troubled with them. They frequent hot, dry +places like sandbanks, and are often found in piles of lumber. + +We had fine views of the scenery as we passed to and fro between the +main building and the school-house--the sea, fringed with cocoanut +palms; the fertile level plain, dotted with trees, on which the village +stood; and the green mountains, whose tops were generally dark with +rainclouds or brightened with bits of rainbows. It seemed to be always +raining in that mysterious mountainous centre of the islands which human +foot has never crossed, but it was usually clear and bright at +sea-level. After an unusually hard rain we could see long, flashing +white waterfalls hanging, like ribbons of silver, down the sides of the +green cliffs. From the attic-windows the best view of the bay could be +obtained, and it was my delight to lean out of them like "a blessed +damosel" half an hour at a time, gazing seaward and drinking in the +beauty of the scene. Waialua Bay was shaped like a half moon, the tips +of which were distant headlands, and the curve was the yellow, +palm-fringed beach. Into this crescent-shaped reach of water rolled +great waves from the outside ocean, following each other in regular +stately order with a front of milk-white foam and a veil of mist flying +backward several yards from the summit. The Hawaiian name for this place +is E-hu-kai (Sea-mist), and it is appropriately named, for the floating +veils of the billows keep the surface of the entire bay dim with mist. +Gazing long upon the scene, my eyes would be dazzled with color--the +intense blue of the sky and the water, the bright yellow of the sand, +the dark rich green of the trees, and, looking into the garden below, +the flame-scarlet blossoms of the pomegranates, the rose-pink flowers of +the oleanders and the cream-white clusters of the limes and oranges. + +It seemed a land for poetry, for romance, for day-dreaming, and the +transition from the attic-window to the prosaic realities of house and +school-room work was like a sudden awakening. I was destined before +leaving the place to have a still more violent awakening to the reality +that underlies appearances. Nature in these beautiful islands is fair +and lovely, but deceitful. During long months of sunny weather the waves +gently kiss the shore, the green slopes smile, the mountains decorate +themselves with cloud-wreaths and rainbows; but there comes a dreadful +day when the green and flowery earth yawns in horrid chasms, when Mauna +Loa trembles and belches forth torrents of blood-red lava, when the +ocean, receding from the shore, returns in a tidal wave that sweeps to +the top of the palms on the beach and engulfs the people and their +homes. + +And the human nature here is somewhat similar. The Hawaiians are +pleasing in form and feature, graceful, polite, fond of music and +dancing and wreathing themselves with flowers, and possess withal a deep +fund of poetry, which finds expression in their own names, the names +they have bestowed upon waterfalls and valleys and green peaks and +sea-cliffs, and in the _meles_ or native songs which commemorate events +of personal interest or national importance. But they too have their +volcanic outbursts, their seasons of fury and destruction. The last +public display of this side of their character was on the occasion of +the election of the present king. The supporters of Queen Emma, the +defeated candidate, burst into the court-house, broke the heads of the +electors or threw them bodily out of the windows, and raised a riot in +the streets of Honolulu which was quelled only by the assistance of the +crews of the men-of-war then in the harbor--the English ship Tenedos and +the United States vessels Portsmouth and Tuscarora. + +I come now to the rebellion which broke forth in Waialua school when I +had been there three weeks. A month or two before one of the +school-girls had died after a brief illness. The old heathen +superstition about praying to Death had been revived by the lower class +of natives in the place, who were not friendly to the school, and had +been transmitted by them to the older girls. While yet ignorant of this +I had noticed the scowls and dark looks, the reluctant obedience and +manifest distrust, of ten or twelve girls from fifteen to eighteen, the +leaders in the school. The younger girls were affectionate and obedient: +they brought flowers from their gardens and wove wreaths for us; they +lomi-lomi-ed our hands and feet when we were sitting at rest; if they +neglected their tasks or broke any of the taboos of the school, it was +through the carelessness of childhood. But it seemed impossible to gain +the confidence of the older girls. + +One day Miss P----, the assistant teacher, received word that her father +was quite sick, and immediately set out for Honolulu on horseback. Miss +G----and I carried on the work of the school as well as we could. A day +or two after Miss P---- left a tropical storm burst upon us. It seemed +as if the very heavens were opened. The rain fell in torrents and the +air was filled with the flying branches of trees. This continued a day +and a night. The next day, Sunday, the rain and wind ceased, but sullen +clouds still hung overhead, and there was an oppressive stillness and +languor in the air. Within, there was something of the same atmosphere: +the tropical nature of the girls seemed to be in sympathy with the +stormy elements. They were silent and sullen and brooding. The bridge +over Waialua had been washed away, and we could not go to church. The +oppressive day passed and was succeeded by a similar one. The older +girls cast dark looks upon us as they reluctantly went through the round +of school- and house-work. At night the explosion occurred. All the +girls were at the usual study-hour in the basement dining-room. It was +Miss G----'s turn to sit with them: I was in the sitting-room directly +above. Suddenly I heard a loud yell, a sound as of scuffling and Miss +G----'s quick tones of command. The next moment I was down stairs. There +stood Miss G---- in the middle of the room holding Elizabeth Aukai, one +of the largest and worst girls, by the wrist. The girl's head was bent +and her teeth were buried in Miss G----'s hand. The heathen had burst +forth, the volcanic eruption and earthquake had come. I tried to pull +her off, but she was as strong as an ox. Loosening her hold directly and +hurling us off, she poured forth a flood of abuse in Hawaiian. She +reviled the teachers and all the cursed foreigners who were praying her +people to death. The Hawaiian language has no "swear words," but it is +particularly rich in abusive and reviling epithets, and these were +freely heaped upon us. She ended her tirade by saying, "You shall not +pray us to death, you wicked, black-hearted foreigners!" and her +companions answered with a yell. Then, snatching up a lamp, they ran up +stairs to their sleeping-rooms, screaming and laughing and singing +native songs that had been forbidden in the school, and, taking their +shawls and Sunday dresses from their trunks, they arrayed themselves in +all their finery and began dancing an old heathen dance which is taboo +among the better class of natives and only practised in secret by the +more degraded class of natives and half-whites. + +It sounded like Bedlam let loose. The little girls, frightened and +crying, and a half-white girl of seventeen, Miss G----'s adopted +daughter, remained with us. We put the younger children to bed in their +sleeping-room, which was on the first floor, and held a council +together. "One of us must cross the river and bring Pai-ku-li" (the +native minister), said Miss G----. "He is Elizabeth Aukai's +guardian--she is his wife's niece--and he can control her if anybody +can, and break the hold of this superstition on the girls' minds. +Nothing that we can say or do will do any good while they are in this +frenzy. Which of us shall go?" + +The bridge was washed away; there was no boat; Miss P---- had taken the +only horse to go to Honolulu. Whoever went must ford the river. Like +Lord Ullin's daughter, who would meet the raging of the skies, but not +an angry father, I was less afraid to go than to stay, and volunteered +to bring Pai-ku-li. + +"Li-li-noe shall go with you," said Miss G----: "she is a good swimmer, +and can find the best way through the river." + +Just then the whole crowd of girls came screaming and laughing down the +stairs, swept through the sitting-room, mocking and insulting Miss +G----, then went back up the other flight of stairs, which led to the +teachers' rooms and was taboo to the school-girls. They were anxious to +break as many rules as possible. + +With a lighted lantern hidden between us Li-li-noe and I stole down +through the flower-garden and across the lawn. We were anxious to keep +the girls in ignorance of our absence, lest they should attempt some +violence to Miss G---- while we were gone. Stealing quietly past the +grass huts of the natives, we approached the place where the bridge had +been, and brought forth our lantern to shed light on the water-soaked +path. Just ahead the surf showed through the darkness white and +threatening, and beyond was the ocean, dim heaving in the dusk. The +clash and roar of the meeting waters filled the air, and we were +sprinkled by the flying spray as we stood debating on the river's edge. +Li-li-noe stepped down into the water to find, if possible, a place +shallow enough to ford, but at the first step she disappeared up to her +shoulders. "That will never do," she said, clambering back: "you cannot +cross there." + +"Can we cross above the bridge?" I asked. + +"No: the water is ten feet deep there; it is shallower toward the sea." + +"Then let us try there;" and into the water we went, Li-li-noe first. It +was not quite waist-deep, and in calm weather there would have been no +danger, but now the current of the river and the tide of the inrushing +sea swept back and forth with the force of a whirlpool. We had got to +the middle when a great wave, white with foam, came roaring toward us +from the ocean. Li-li-noe threw herself forward and began to swim. For a +moment there were darkness and the roar of many waters around me, and my +feet were almost swept from under me. Looking upward at the cloudy sky +and the tall cocoanut trees on the bank, I thought of the home and +friends I might never see again. The bitter salt water wet my face, +quenched the light and carried away my shawl, but the wave returned +without carrying me out to sea. Then above the noise of the waters I +heard Li-li-noe's voice calling to me from the other shore, and just as +another wave surged in I reached her side and sank down on the sand. +After resting a few moments we rose and began picking our way toward the +village, half a mile distant. Our route led along a narrow path between +the muddy, watery road on one side and a still more muddy, watery +taro-patch on the other. Without a light to guide our steps, we slipped, +now with one foot into the road, now with the other into the taro-patch, +and by the time we emerged into the level cactus-field around the church +we were covered with mud to our knees. + +Pai-ku-li lived nearly a mile beyond the village, but close by the +church lived Mrs. W----, whose place I had taken as English teacher in +the school. We knocked at her door to beg for a light, and when she +found what the matter was she made us come in, muddy and dripping as we +were, and put on some dry clothes, while her husband, pulling on his +boots, went for Pai-ku-li. She begged me to stay all night, saying that +she would not trust her life with the girls at such a time--they might +attempt to poison us or to burn the house down--but I thanked her for +her hospitality and lighted our lantern, and we started back as soon as +Mr. W---- returned saying that Pai-ku-li would come. We listened for +the sound of his horse's feet, for we had planned to ride across the +river, one at a time, behind Pai-ku-li, but he did not overtake us, and +we waited at the river nearly half an hour. One span of the bridge +remained, and as we stood on it waiting, listening to the flapping of +the cocoanut fronds in the night wind and the hoarse murmuring and +occasional roar of the ocean, I thought of that line of Longfellow's-- + + I stood on the bridge at midnight-- + +and laughed to myself at the contrast between the poetical and the +actual. Still, Pai-ku-li did not come, and, growing anxious on Miss +G----'s account, we resolved to cross as we had before. Again we went +down into the cold flood, again our light was quenched and our feet +nearly swept from under us, but we reached the opposite side in safety. +As we crossed the lawn we saw every window lighted, and knew by the +sounds of yelling and singing and laughing that the girls were still +raving. Miss G---- sat quietly in the parlor. She had been up stairs to +try to reason with the girls, but they drowned her voice with hooting +and reviling. Pai-ku-li came a little later, but he had no better +success. He remained with us that night and all the next day. The +screaming up stairs continued till two or three o'clock at night, and +began again as soon as the first girl woke. Early next morning a fleet +messenger started to Honolulu, and just at dusk two gentlemen, the +sheriff and Mr. P----, who was Miss G----'s brother-in-law and president +of the board of trustees of Waialua Seminary, rode up on foaming horses. +A court was held in the school-room, many natives--a few of the better +class who disapproved of the rebellion, and more of the lower class who +upheld the rebels--being present as spectators, but no one interrupting +the prompt and stern proceedings of Mr. P----. Elizabeth Aukai was +whipped on her bare feet and legs below the knee until she burst out +crying and begged for mercy and asked Miss G----'s forgiveness for +biting her. Then she and the other rebels were expelled, and the +sheriff took them away that night. Those who lived on other islands were +sent home by the first schooner leaving Honolulu. Thus ended the +rebellion at Waialua school. + +The remaining month of my stay passed in peace and quietness. The need +for my assistance was less after the expulsion of so many girls, but I +remained in order that Miss G---- might take a short vacation and the +rest she so much needed. During her absence Miss P---- and I carried on +the school. A few days after the storm a little native boy brought to +the seminary the shawl which had been washed from my shoulders the night +I went through the river. He had found it lying on the beach half a mile +below the ford. It had been washed out to sea and returned again by the +waves. After that we called it "the travelled shawl." Every Monday +morning the toot of the postman's horn was heard in the village, and one +of us immediately went across to get the mail. The bridge being gone, we +had to wade the river at the shallowest place, near the sea. When I +waded across on such occasions I usually found on the opposite shore a +group of half-naked little natives who drew near to watch with silent +interest the process of buttoning my shoes with a button-hook. The whole +school waded across to church on Sundays. + +The population of the village, with the exception of two or three +families, was composed of natives and half-whites of the lower class. +Heathen superstition mingled with modern vice. In some instances men and +women lived together without the ceremony of marriage. Beyond the +village the cane-fields began, and beyond them, at the foot of the +mountains, lived a better class of natives, moral and industrious. Here, +too, were the cane-mills and the residences of the planters. I remember +one pretty little cottage with walls of braided grass and wooden roof +and floor, surrounded by cool, vine-shaded verandas. It stood in the +middle of a cane-plantation, and was the home of an Englishman and his +wife, both highly cultivated and genial, companionable people. He was a +typical Englishman in appearance, stout and ruddy, and wore a blue +flannel suit and the white head-covering worn by his countrymen in +India. She was a graceful little creature with appealing dark eyes, and +looked too frail to have ever borne hardship or cruelty, yet she had +known little else all her early life. She had been left an orphan in +England, and had been sent out to Australia to make her living as a +governess. She was thrown among brutal, coarse-mannered people, and +received harsh treatment and suffered many vicissitudes of fortune. +Finally, her husband met and loved and married her, and lifted her out +of that hard life into one which appeared by contrast a heaven of peace +and kindness and affection. She often said frankly, "That was the +happiest event of my life. I can never be thankful enough to him or love +him enough. Sometimes I dream I am back again enduring that dreadful +life in Australia, and when I wake and realize that I am here in our own +little cottage, thousands of miles from Australia, I am freshly happy +and grateful." + +Near the foot of the mountains was a Catholic church and a school, round +which a little village had grown up. The self-sacrificing efforts of the +teachers have been productive of good among the natives, but there seems +little hope of any co-operation between the Protestant missionaries and +them. + +When the time came for me to return to Honolulu, Miss P---- offered to +accompany me, and suggested that instead of returning by the way I came +we should take the longer way and complete the circuit of the island. As +the road lay directly along the sea-coast the entire distance, there was +no danger of our losing our way. Miss P---- rode Calico, the missionary +steed, and I hired a white horse of Nakaniella (Nathaniel), one of the +patrons of the school, choosing it in preference to a bay brought for my +inspection the night before we started by a sullen-looking native from +the village. When we had gone two or three miles on our way we heard the +sound of furious galloping behind us, and looking back saw this native, +with a face like a thunder-cloud, approaching us on his bay horse. +Reaching us, he insisted on my dismounting and taking his horse, saying +that I had promised to hire it the night before. Miss P----, being able +to speak Hawaiian, answered for me without slackening our pace. She +said, in reply to his demands, that the wahine haole had not promised to +take his horse; that she would not pay him for his time and trouble in +bringing over the horse that morning and riding after us; that he might +ride all the way to Honolulu with us or go to law about the matter, both +of which he threatened. Fuming with wrath, he rode along with us for a +mile or two, breathing out threatenings and slaughter in vigorous +Hawaiian: then, uttering the spiteful wish, "May your horses throw you +and break your necks!" he turned and rode back toward Waialua. + +We passed through the ruins of a once-populous village: stone walls +bordered the road for a mile or more, and back of them were the stone +foundations of native houses and _heiaus_ (temples). Pandanus trees, +with roots like stilts or props that lifted them two or three feet from +the ground, grew inside the deserted enclosures: long grass waved from +the chinks and crevices. It was a mournful reminder of the decay of the +Hawaiian race. Just beyond the ruined village a sluggish creek flowed +into the sea. At the mouth of the valley whence it issued stood two or +three native huts. A man wearing a malo was up on the roof of one, +thatching it with grass. Riding near, we hailed him and inquired about a +quicksand which lay just ahead and which we must cross. He told us to +avoid the _makai_ side and keep to the _mouka_ side. We followed his +directions, and crossed in safety. For all practical purposes there are +but two directions in the islands--_mouka_, meaning toward the +mountains, and _makai_, toward the sea. + +We rode all the forenoon over a level strip of grassy open country +bordering the sea, with here and there a native hut near a clump of +cocoanuts or a taro-patch. Toward noon we passed fenced pastures in +which many horses were grazing, and came in sight of a picturesque +cottage near the shore. Miss G---- had told us that on the lawn in front +of this cottage were two curious old stone idols which had been +discovered in a fish-pond, and we rode up to the gate intending to ask +permission to enter and look at them. A Chinese servant let us in, and +the owner, an Englishman who lived here during part of the year, came +and showed us the idols, and then invited us inside his pretty cottage +and gave us a lunch of bread and butter and guava jelly and oranges. The +walls and ceilings were of native wood, of the kinds used in delicate +cabinet-work and were polished until they shone. The floor was covered +with fine straw matting, and around the room were ranged easy-chairs and +sofas of willow and rattan. In one corner stood a piano in an ebony +case, and on a koa-wood centre-table were a number of fine photographs +and works of art. Hanging baskets filled with blooming plants hung in +each window and in the veranda. Altogether, it was the prettiest +hermitage imaginable. + +Riding along that afternoon through a country much like that we had +passed over in the morning, we heard from a native hut the sound of the +mournful Hawaiian wail, "Auea! auea!" (pronounced like the word "away" +long drawn out). To our inquiry if any one was dead within, a woman +answered, "No, but that some friends had come from a distance on a +visit." I have frequently seen two Hawaiian friends or relations who had +not met for a long time express their emotions at seeing one another +again, not by kissing and laughing and joyful exclamations, but by +sitting down on the ground and wailing. Perhaps it was done in +remembrance of their long separation and of the changes that had taken +place during that time. The native mode of kissing consists in rubbing +noses together. + +Not far from this place we passed a Mormon settlement, a little colony +sent out from Utah. The group of bare white buildings was some distance +back from the road, and we did not stop to visit them. Near by was a +_hou_-tree swamp, a spongy, marshy place where cattle were eating grass +that grew under water. They would reach down until their ears were +almost covered, take a mouthful and lift up their heads while they +chewed it. Thus far on our journey there had been a level plain two or +three miles wide between the sea and the mountains, but here the +mountains came close down to the sea, leaving only a little strip of +land along the beach. High, stern cliffs with strange profiles, such as +a lion, a canoe and a gigantic hen on her nest, frowned upon us as we +rode along their base. We passed a cold bubbling spring which had worn a +large basin for itself in the rock. It had formerly been the +bathing-place of a chief, and therefore taboo to the common people. In +one of our gallops along the beach my stirrup-strap broke, and we +stopped in front of a solitary hut to ask for a stout string. A squid +was drying on a pole and scenting the air with its fishy odors. In +answer to our call an old man in a calico shirt came out of the hut, +and, taking some strips of _hou_-bark, twisted them into a strong string +and fastened the stirrup. I gave him a real, and he exclaimed "Aloha!" +with apparently as much surprise and delight as if we had enriched him +for life. + +We rode through a little village at the mouth of a beautiful green +valley, forded a river that ran through it, and passing under more high +cliffs came about four in the afternoon to Kahana, our stopping-place +for the night. It was a little cluster of houses at the head of a bay or +inlet of the sea, where the lovely transparent water was green as grass, +and stood in the opening of a valley enclosed by high, steep +mountain-walls, with sharp ridges down their sides clothed with rich +forests. All around us grew delicate, luxuriant ferns, of which there +are one hundred and fifty varieties in the islands. Along the shores of +the bay some women were wading, their dresses held above their knees, +picking shellfish and green sea-moss off the rocks for supper. We rode +up to the cottage of Kekoa, a native minister who had studied under Miss +P----'s father. His half-Chinese, half-native wife was in a grass hut at +the back of the house, and she came immediately to take our horses, +saying that her husband was at the church, but would be at home soon. +Then opening the door, she told us to go inside and rest ourselves. It +was a pretty cottage, with floors and walls of wood and a grass roof. +Braided mats of palm and pandanus-leaves were on the floor, and on the +walls hung portraits of the Hawaiian royal family and Generals Lee and +Grant. It had two rooms--a sitting-room and a bedroom--the first +furnished with a table and chairs, the latter with a huge high-posted +bedstead with a canopy over it. Altogether, it was much above the common +native houses, and was evidently not used every day, but kept for the +reception of guests--travelling ministers and the like. + +When Kekoa came he welcomed us warmly on account of the attachment he +had for Miss P----'s father, and told us to consider the house ours as +long as it pleased us to stay. He sent his wife to catch a chicken, and +soon set before us on the table in the sitting-room a supper consisting +of boiled chicken, rice, baked taro, coarse salt from the bay, and +bananas. We overlooked the absence of bread, which the natives know not +of, and shared the use of the one knife and fork between us. Our host +waited on us, his wife bringing the food to the door and handing it to +him. After supper other natives came in, and Miss P---- conversed with +them in Hawaiian. Being tired and stiff from my long ride, I went into +the next room and lay down on the bed. Mrs. Kekoa came in presently and +began to lomi-lomi me. She kneaded me with her hands from head to foot, +just as a cook kneads dough, continuing the process for nearly an hour, +although I begged her several times to stop lest she should be tired. At +the end of that time all sensation of fatigue and stiffness was gone and +I felt fresh and well. Kekoa and his wife slept in a grass hut several +rods farther up the valley, and Miss P---- and I had the house to +ourselves. In the middle of the night we were awakened by the sound of a +man talking in through the open window of our room. We both thought for +a moment that it was our persecutor of the morning who had followed us +as he had threatened, but it proved to be a native from the head of the +valley who wanted to see Kekoa. Miss P---- directed him to the grass hut +where our host slept, and he went away, and we were not disturbed again. +Next morning we had breakfast like the supper, and asked for our horses. +Kekoa and his wife begged us to stay longer, but we could not, and +parted from them with much regret. We afterward sent them some large +photographs of scenes in Honolulu, and received an affectionate message +from them in return. I look back to Kahana as a sort of Happy Valley, +and dream sometimes of going back and seeing again its beautiful +pale-green bay, its glittering blue sea, its grand mountain-walls +clothed in richest verdure, and renewing my acquaintance with its +kind-hearted people. Several natives gathered to say good-bye, and two +of them rode with us out of the valley and saw us fairly on our way. + +We rode past cane-plantations fenced with palm-tree trunks or hedged +with huge prickly pear; past thickets of wild indigo and castor bean; +through guava-jungles, where we pulled and ate the ripe fruit, yellow +outside and pink within; past large fish-ponds that had been constructed +for the chiefs in former days; past rice-fields where Chinese were +scaring away the birds; past threshing-floors where Chinese were +threshing rice; past _kamani_ trees (from Tahiti) that looked like +umbrellas slanting upward; past a flock of mina-birds brought from +Australia; past aloe-plants and vast thickets of red and yellow lantana +in blossom, reaching as high as our horses' necks. + +We dismounted in front of a little grass hut where we heard the sound of +a tappa-pounder, and went to the door. An old native woman, with her +arms tattooed with India-ink, was sitting on a mat spread on the ground, +with a sheet of moist red tappa lying over a beam placed on the ground +in front of her, and a four-sided mallet in her hand. Beside her sat a +young half-white girl with a large tortoise-shell comb in her hair and a +fat little dog in her arms. We asked if we could come in and see the +tappa. The old woman said "Yes," and displayed it with some pride. She +was making it to give to Queen Emma, hence the pains she was taking with +the coloring and the pattern. The bark of a shrub resembling our pawpaw +tree is steeped in water until it becomes a mass of pulp. Then it is +laid on the heavy beam and beaten with the tappa-pounder, and pulled and +stretched until it becomes a square sheet with firm edges, about as +thick as calico and six or eight feet square. The juice of berries or +dye from the bark of trees furnishes the coloring, and the pattern is +determined by the figures cut in the tappa-pounder. Some fine mats +rolled-up in one corner and some braided baskets on the wall were also +the work of this tappa-maker. + +We passed through several villages as we neared our journey's end, and +the scenery grew more interesting. The palm trees on the beach framed +views of little islands bathed in sea-mist which lay half a mile or more +from the shore. Narrow green valleys with high steep walls, down whose +sides flashed bright waterfalls, opened to view one after another on the +mouka or inland side. At the mouth of one we saw a twig of _ohia_, or +native apple tree, placed carefully between two stones. Some +superstitious native had put it there as an offering, that the goddess +of that valley might not roll down rocks on him and kill him. The Pali, +a stupendous perpendicular cliff four thousand feet high, faces the sea +a few miles from Honolulu. We came in sight of it early in the +afternoon, and stopped on a grassy knoll near a clear stream to eat our +lunch and allow our horses to graze. The hardest part of the whole +journey lay immediately before us. A zigzag path has been cut up the +face of the cliff, but it is so steep and narrow that carriages cannot +pass over it, and it is with much exertion and heavy panting that it can +be climbed by man or beast. The face of the cliff is hung with vines and +ferns, and at its base grow palms and the rich vegetation of the +tropics. It is the grandest bit of scenery on Oahu. We rode our horses +to the foot of the Pali: then, out of compassion for them, dismounted +and led them up the long steep path, stopping several times to rest. On +the way some natives passed us on horseback, racing up the Pali! At the +top we stood a while in silence, gazing at the magnificent prospect +spread out below us. We could see miles of the road we had +come--silvery-green cane-plantations, little villages with white +church-spires, rich groves of palm, kukui and koa, and the sea rising +like a dark blue wall all around the horizon. Then we mounted and turned +our faces toward Honolulu. On either side were lofty mountain-walls, +with perpendicular sides clothed with vivid green and hung with silvery +waterfalls. We were entering the city by Nuannu ("Cold Spring") Valley, +the most delightful and fashionable suburb. Here were Queen Emma's +residence, set in the midst of extensive and beautiful grounds, the +Botanical Gardens, the residence of the American minister, the royal +mausoleum and the house and gardens once occupied by Kalumma, a former +queen. Crowds of gayly-dressed natives galloped past us as we neared the +city, wearing wreaths of fern and flowers. One man carried a half-grown +pig in a rope net attached to his stirrup: it looked tired of life. So, +under the arching algaroba and monkey-pod trees that shade Nuannu +Avenue, and past the royal palms that grace the yards, we rode into +beautiful Honolulu. + + LOUISE COFFIN JONES. + + + + +FINDELKIND OF MARTINSWAND: A CHILD'S STORY. + + +There was a little boy a year or two since who lived under the shadow of +Martinswand. Most people know, I should suppose, that the Martinswand is +that mountain in the Oberinnthal where, several centuries ago, brave +Kaiser Max lost his footing as he stalked the chamois and fell upon a +ledge of rock, and stayed there, in mortal peril, for thirty hours, till +he was rescued by the strength and agility of a Tyrol hunter--an angel +in the guise of a hunter, as the chronicles of the time prefer to say. +The Martinswand is a grand mountain, being one of the spurs of the +greater Sonnstein, and rises precipitously, looming, massive and lofty, +like a very fortress for giants, where it stands right across that road +which, if you follow it long enough, takes you on through Zirl to +Landeck--old, picturesque, poetic Landeck, where Frederic of the Empty +Pockets rhymed his sorrows in ballads to his people--and so on, by +Bludenz, into Switzerland itself, by as noble a highway as any traveller +can ever desire to traverse on a summer's day. The Martinswand is within +a mile of the little burg of Zirl, where the people, in the time of +their kaiser's peril, came out with torches and bells, and the Host +lifted up by their priest, and all prayed on their knees underneath the +gaunt pile of limestone, which is the same to-day as it was then, whilst +Kaiser Max is dust. The Martinswand soars up very steep and very +majestic, bare stone at its base and all along its summit crowned with +pine woods; and on the other side of the road that runs onward to Zirl +are a little stone church, quaint and low, and gray with age, and a +stone farm-house and cattle-sheds and timber-sheds of wood that is +darkly brown from time; and beyond these are some of the most beautiful +meadows in the world, full of tall grass and countless flowers, with +pools and little estuaries made by the brimming Inn River that flows by +them, and beyond the river the glaciers of the Sonnstein and the Selrain +and the wild Arlberg region, and the golden glow of sunset in the west, +most often seen from here through a veil of falling rain. + +At this farm-house, with Martinswand towering above it and Zirl a mile +beyond, there lived, and lives still, a little boy who bears the old +historical name of Findelkind. His father, Otto Korner, was the last of +a sturdy race of yeomen who had fought with Hofer and Haspinger, and had +been free men always. + +Findelkind came in the middle of seven other children, and was a pretty +boy of nine years old, with slenderer limbs and paler cheeks than his +rosy brethren, and tender, dreamy, dark-blue eyes that had the look, his +mother told him, of seeking stars in midday--_de chercher midi à +quatorze heures_, as the French have it. He was a good little lad, and +seldom gave any trouble from disobedience, though he often gave it from +forgetfulness. His father angrily complained that he was always in the +clouds--that is, he was always dreaming--and so very often would spill +the milk out of the pails, chop his own fingers instead of the wood, and +stay watching the swallows when he was sent to draw water. His brothers +and sisters were always making fun of him: they were sturdier, ruddier +and merrier children than he was, loved romping and climbing and +nutting, thrashing the walnut trees and sliding down snow-drifts, and +got into mischief of a more common and childish sort than Findelkind's +freaks of fancy. For indeed he was a very fanciful little boy: +everything around had tongues for him, and he would sit for hours among +the long rushes on the river's edge, trying to imagine what the wild +green-gray water had found in its wanderings, and asking the water-rats +and the ducks to tell him about it; but both rats and ducks were too +busy to attend to an idle little boy, and never spoke, which vexed him. + +Findelkind, however, was very fond of his books: he would study day and +night in his little ignorant, primitive fashion. He loved his missal and +his primer, and could spell them both out very fairly, and was learning +to write of a good priest in Zirl, where he trotted three times a week +with his two little brothers. When not at school he was chiefly set to +guard the sheep and the cows, which occupation left him very much to +himself, so that he had many hours in the summer-time to stare up to +the skies and wonder, wonder, wonder about all sorts of things; while in +the winter--the long, white, silent winter, when the post-wagons ceased +to run, and the road into Switzerland was blocked, and the whole world +seemed asleep except for the roaring of the winds--Findelkind, who still +trotted over the snow to school in Zirl, would dream still, sitting on +the wooden settle by the fire when he came home again under Martinswand. +For the worst--or the best--of it all was that he was Findelkind also. + +This was what was always haunting him. He was Findelkind, and to bear +this name seemed to him to mark him out from all other children and +dedicate him to Heaven. One day three years before, when he had been +only six years old, the priest in Zirl, who was a very kindly and +cheerful man, and amused the children as much as he taught them, had not +allowed Findelkind to leave the school to go home because the storm of +snow and wind was so violent, but had kept him until the worst should +pass, with one or two other little lads who lived some way off, and had +let the boys roast apples and chestnuts by the stove in his little room, +and while the wind howled and the blinding snow fell without had told +the children the story of another Findelkind, an earlier Findelkind, who +had lived in the flesh as far back as 1381, and had been a little +shepherd-lad--"just like you," said the good man, looking at the little +boys munching their roast crabs--"over there, above Stuben, where Danube +and Rhine meet and part." The pass of Arlberg is even still so bleak and +bitter that few care to climb there: the mountains around are drear and +barren, and snow lies till midsummer, and even longer sometimes. "But in +the early ages," said the priest--and this is quite a true tale, which +the children heard with open eyes, and mouths only not open because they +were full of crabs and chestnuts,--"in the early ages," said the priest +to them, "the Arlberg was far more dreary than it is now. There was only +a mule-track over it, and no refuge for man or beast; so that wanderers +and peddlers, and those whose need for work or desire for battle +brought them over that frightful pass, perished in great numbers and +were eaten by the bears and the wolves. The little shepherd-boy, +Findelkind--who was a little boy five hundred years ago, remember," +added the priest--"was sorely disturbed and distressed to see those poor +dead souls in the snow winter after winter, and to see the blanched +bones lie on the bare earth unburied when summer melted the snow. It +made him unhappy, very unhappy; and what could he do, he a little boy +keeping sheep? He had as his wage two florins a year--that was all--but +his heart rose high and he had faith in God. Little as he was, he said +to himself he would try and do something, so that year after year those +poor lost travellers and beasts should not perish so. He said nothing to +anybody, but he took the few florins he had saved up, bade his master +farewell and went on his way begging--a little fourteenth-century boy, +with long, straight hair and a girdled tunic, as you see them," +continued the priest, "in the miniatures in the black-letter missal that +lies upon my desk. No doubt Heaven favored him very strongly, and the +saints watched over him; still, without the boldness of his own courage +and the faith in his own heart they would not have done so. I suppose, +too, that when knights in their armor and soldiers in their camps saw +such a little fellow all alone they helped him, and perhaps struck some +blows for him, and so sped him on his way and protected him from robbers +and from wild beasts. Still, be sure that the real shield and the real +reward that served Findelkind of Arlberg was the pure and noble purpose +that armed him night and day. Now, history does not tell us where +Findelkind went, nor how he fared, nor how long he was about it, but +history _does_ tell us that the little barefooted, long-haired boy, +knocking so boldly at castle-gates and city-walls in the name of Christ +and Christ's poor brethren, did so well succeed in his quest that before +long he had returned to his mountain-home with means to have a church +and a rude dwelling built, where he lived with six other brave and +charitable souls, dedicating themselves to St. Christopher, and going +out night and day, to the sound of the Angelus, seeking the lost and +weary. This is really what Findelkind of Arlberg did five centuries ago, +and did so well that his fraternity of St. Christopher twenty years +after numbered amongst its members archdukes, prelates and knights +without number, and lasted as a great order down to the days of Joseph +II. This is what Findelkind in the fourteenth century did, I tell you. +Bear like faith in your hearts, my children, and, though your generation +is a harder one than his, because it is without faith, yet you shall +move mountains, because Christ and St. Christopher will be with you." + +Then the good man, having said that, blessed them and left them alone to +their chestnuts and crabs and went into his own oratory to prayer. The +other boys laughed and chattered, but Findelkind sat very quietly +thinking of his namesake all the day after, and for many days and weeks +and months this story haunted him. A little boy had done all that, and +this little boy had been called Findelkind--Findelkind, just like +himself. + +It was a beautiful story, and yet it tortured him. If the good man had +known how the history would root itself in the child's mind perhaps he +would never have told it, for night and day it vexed Findelkind, and yet +seemed beckoning to him and crying, "Go, thou, and do likewise!" + +But what could he do? + +There was the snow, indeed, and there were the mountains, as in the +fourteenth century, but there were no travellers lost. The diligence did +not go into Switzerland after autumn, and the country-people who went by +on their mules and in their sledges to Innspruck knew their way very +well, and were never likely to be adrift on a winter's night or eaten by +a wolf or a bear. + +When spring came Findelkind sat by the edge of the bright pure water +amongst the flowering grasses and felt his head heavy. Findelkind of +Arlberg, who was in heaven now, must look down, he fancied, and think +him so stupid and so selfish sitting there. The first Findelkind a few +centuries before had trotted down on his bare feet from his +mountain-pass, and taken his little crook and gone out boldly over all +the land on his pilgrimage, and knocked at castle-gates and city-walls +in Christ's name and for love of the poor. That was to do something +indeed! + +This poor little living Findelkind would look at the miniatures in the +priest's missal, in one of which there was the fourteenth-century boy +with long hanging hair and a wallet and bare feet, and he never doubted +that it was the portrait of the blessed Findelkind who was in heaven; +and he wondered if he looked like a little boy there or if he were +changed to the likeness of an angel. + +"He was a boy just like me," thought the poor little fellow; and he felt +so ashamed of himself, so much ashamed; and the priest had told him to +try and do the same. He brooded over it so much, and it made him so +anxious and so vexed, that his brothers ate his porridge and he did not +notice it, his sisters pulled his curls and he did not feel it, his +father brought a stick down on his back and he only started and stared, +and his mother cried because he was losing his mind and would grow daft, +and even his mother's tears he scarcely saw. He was always thinking of +Findelkind in heaven. + +When he went for water he spilt one half; when he did his lessons, he +forgot the chief part; when he drove out the cow, he let her munch the +cabbages; and when he was set to watch the oven, he let the loaves burn, +like great Alfred. He was always busied thinking, "Little Findelkind +that is in heaven did so great a thing: why may not I? I ought! I +ought!" What was the use of being named after Findelkind that was in +heaven unless one did something great too? + +Next to the church there is a little stone sort of shed with two arched +openings, and from it you look into the tiny church with its crucifixes +and relics, or out to great, bold, sombre Martinswand, as you like best; +and in this spot Findelkind would sit hour after hour while his brothers +and sisters were playing, and look up at the mountains or on to the +altar, and wish and pray and vex his little soul most woefully; and his +ewes and his lambs would crop the grass about the entrance, and bleat to +make him notice them and lead them farther afield, but all in vain. Even +the dear sheep he hardly heeded, and his pet ewes Katte and Greta and +the big ram Zips rubbed their soft noses in his hand unnoticed. So the +summer passed away--the summer that is so short in the mountains, and +yet so green and so radiant, with the torrents tumbling through the +flowers, and the hay tossing in the meadows, and the lads and lasses +climbing to cut the rich sweet grass of the alps. The short summer +passed as fast as a dragon-fly flashes by, all green and gold, in the +sun; and it was near autumn once more, and still Findelkind was always +dreaming and wondering what he could do for the good of St. Christopher; +and the longing to do it all came more and more into his little heart, +and he puzzled his brain till his head ached. + +One autumn morning, whilst yet it was dark, Findelkind made up his mind, +and rose before his brothers and stole down stairs and out into the air, +as it was easy to do, because the house-door never was bolted. He had +nothing with him, he was barefooted, and his school-satchel was slung +behind him, as Findelkind of Arlberg's wallet had been five centuries +before. He took a little staff from the piles of wood lying about, and +went out on to the highroad, on his way to do Heaven's will. He was not +very sure--but that was because he was only nine years old and not very +wise--but Findelkind that was in heaven had begged for the poor: so +would he. + +His parents were very poor, but he did not think of them as in want at +any time, because he always had his bowlful of porridge and as much +bread as he wanted to eat. This morning he had had nothing to eat: he +wished to be away before any one could question him. + +It was still dusk in the fresh autumn morning; the sun had not risen +behind the glaciers of the Stubaythal, and the road was scarcely seen; +but he knew it very well, and he set out bravely, saying his prayers to +Christ and to St. Christopher and to Findelkind that was in heaven. He +was not in any way clear as to what he would do, but he thought he would +find some great thing to do somewhere lying like a jewel in the dust; +and he went on his way in faith, as Findelkind of Arlberg had done. His +heart beat high, and his head lost its aching pains, and his feet felt +light--as light as if there were wings to his ankles. He would not go to +Zirl, because Zirl he knew so well, and there could be nothing very +wonderful waiting there; and he ran fast the other way. When he was +fairly out from under the shadow of Martinswand he slackened his pace, +and saw the sun come up on his path and begin to redden the gray-green +water; and the early Eilwagen from Landeck, that had been lumbering +along all the night, overtook him. He would have run after it and called +out to the travellers for alms, but he felt ashamed: his father had +never let him beg, and he did not know how to begin. The Eilwagen rolled +on through the autumn mud, and that was one chance lost. He was sure +that the first Findelkind had not felt ashamed when he had knocked at +the first castle-gate. + +By and by, when he could not see Martinswand by turning his head back +ever so, he came to an inn that used to be a post-house in the old days +when men travelled only by road. A woman was feeding chickens in the +bright clear red of the cold daybreak. Findelkind timidly held out his +hand. "For the poor," he murmured, and doffed his cap. + +The old woman looked at him sharply: "Oh, is it you, little Findelkind? +Have you run off from school? Be off with you home! I have mouths enough +to feed here." + +Findelkind went away, and began to learn that it is not easy to be a +prophet or a hero in one's own country. He trotted a mile farther and +met nothing. At last he came to some cows by the wayside, and a man +tending them. "Would you give me something to help make a monastery?" he +said timidly, and once more took off his cap. + +The man gave a great laugh: "A fine monk you! And who wants more of +those lazy drones? Not I." + +Findelkind never answered: he remembered the priest had said that the +years he lived in were very hard ones, and men in them had no faith. Ere +long he came to a big walled house, with turrets and grated +casements--very big it looked to him--like one of the first Findelkind's +own castles. His heart beat loud against his side, but he plucked up his +courage and knocked as loud as his heart was beating. He knocked and +knocked, but no answer came. The house was empty. But he did not know +that: he thought it was that the people within were cruel, and he went +sadly onward with the road winding before him, and on his right the +beautiful, impetuous gray river, and on his left the green Mittelgebirge +and the mountains that rose behind it. By this time the sun was high: +its rays were glowing on the red of the cranberry-shrubs and the blue of +the bilberry-boughs; he was hungry and thirsty and tired. But he did not +give in for that: he held on steadily. He knew that there was near, +somewhere near, a great city that the people called Sprugg, and thither +he had resolved to go. By noontide he had walked eight miles, and come +to a green place where men were shooting at targets, the tall thick +grass all around them; and a little way farther off was a train of +people chanting and bearing crosses and dressed in long flowing robes. + +The place was the Höttinger Au, and the day was Saturday, and the +village was making ready to perform a miracle-play on the morrow. +Findelkind ran to the robed singing-folk, quite sure that he saw the +people of God. "Oh, take me! take me!" he cried to them--"do take me +with you to do Heaven's work!" + +But they pushed him aside for a crazy little boy that spoilt their +rehearsing. + +"It was only for Hötting-folk," said a lad older than himself. "Get out +of the way with you, liebchen;" and the man who carried the cross +knocked him with force on the head by mere accident, but Findelkind +thought he had meant it. + +Were people so much kinder five centuries before? he wondered, and felt +sad as the many-colored robes swept on through the grass and the crack +of the rifles sounded sharply through the music of the chanting voices. +He went on footsore and sorrowful, thinking of the castle-doors that had +opened and the city-gates that had unclosed at the summons of the little +long-haired boy painted on the missal. + +He had come now to where the houses were much more numerous, though +under the shade of great trees--lovely old gray houses, some of wood, +some of stone, some with frescoes on them and gold and color and +mottoes, some with deep-barred casements and carved portals and +sculptured figures--houses of the poorer people now, but still memorials +of a grand and gracious time. For he had wandered into the quarter of +St. Nicholas of this fair mountain-city, which he, like his +country-folks, called Sprugg, though the government and the world called +it Innspruck. + +He got out upon a long gray wooden bridge, and looked up and down the +reaches of the river, and thought to himself maybe this was not Sprugg +but Jerusalem, so beautiful it looked with its domes shining golden in +the sun, and the snow of the Patscher Kofl and the Brandjoch behind +them. For little Findelkind had never come so far before. + +As he stood on the bridge so dreaming a hand clutched him and a voice +said, "A whole kreutzer, or you do not pass." + +Findelkind started and trembled. A kreutzer? He had never owned such a +treasure in all his life. "I have no money," he murmured timidly: "I +came to see if I could get money for the poor." + +The keeper of the bridge laughed: "You are a little beggar, you mean? +Oh, very well: then over my bridge you do not go." + +"But it is the city on the other side." + +"To be sure it is the city, but over nobody goes without a kreutzer." + +"I never have such a thing of my own--never, never," said Findelkind, +ready to cry. + +"Then you were a little fool to come away from your home, wherever that +may be," said the man at the bridge-head. "Well, I will let you go, for +you look a baby. But do not beg: that is bad." + +"Findelkind did it." + +"Then Findelkind was a rogue and a vagabond," said the taker of tolls. + +"Oh, no, no, no!" + +"Oh, yes, yes, yes, little saucebox! and take that," said the man, +giving him a box on the ear, being angry at contradiction. + +Findelkind's head drooped, and he went slowly over the bridge, +forgetting that he ought to have thanked the toll-taker for a free +passage. The world seemed to him very difficult. How had Findelkind done +when he had come to bridges? and oh, how had Findelkind done when he had +been hungry? For this poor little Findelkind was getting very hungry, +and his stomach was as empty as was his wallet. + +A few steps brought him to the Goldenes Dachl. He forgot his hunger and +his pain, seeing the sun shine on all that gold and the curious painted +galleries under it. He thought it was real, solid gold. Real gold laid +out on a house-roof, and the people all so poor! Findelkind began to +muse, and wonder why everybody did not climb up there and take a tile +off and be rich. But perhaps it would be wicked. Perhaps God put the +roof there with all that gold to prove people. Findelkind got +bewildered. If God did such a thing, was it kind? + +His head seemed to swim, and the sunshine went round and round with him. +There went by him just then a very venerable-looking old man with silver +hair: he was wrapped in a long cloak. + +Findelkind pulled at the cloak gently, and the old man looked down. +"What is it, my boy?" he asked. + +Findelkind answered, "I came out to get gold: may I take it off that +roof?" + +"It is not gold, child: it is gilding." + +"What is gilding?" + +"It is a thing made to look like gold: that is all." + +"It is a lie, then!" + +The old man smiled: "Well, nobody thinks so. If you like to put it so, +perhaps it is. What do you want gold for, you wee thing?" + +"To build a monastery and house the poor." + +The old man's face scowled and grew dark, for he was a Lutheran pastor +from Bavaria. "Who taught you such trash?" he said crossly. + +"It is not trash: it is faith." + +And Findelkind's face began to burn and his blue eyes to darken and +moisten. There was a little crowd beginning to gather, and the crowd was +beginning to laugh. There were some soldiers and rifle-shooters in the +throng, and they jeered and joked, and made fun of the old man in the +long cloak, who grew angry then with the child. "You are a little +idolater and a little impudent sinner," he said wrathfully, and shook +the boy by the shoulder and went away; and the throng that had gathered +round had only poor Findelkind left to tease. + +He was a very poor little boy indeed to look at, with his sheepskin +tunic and his bare feet and legs, and his wallet that never was to get +filled. + +"Where do you come from, and what do you want?" they asked. + +And he answered with a sob in his voice, "I want to do like Findelkind +of Arlberg." + +And then the crowd laughed, not knowing at all what he meant, but +laughing just because they did not know, as crowds always will do. + +And only the big dogs, that are so very big in this country, and are all +loose and free and good-natured citizens, came up to him kindly and +rubbed against him and made friends; and at that tears came into his +eyes and his courage rose, and he lifted his head. + +"You are cruel people to laugh," he said indignantly: "the dogs are +kinder. People did not laugh at Findelkind. He was a little boy just +like me, no better and no bigger, and as poor, and yet he had so much +faith, and the world then was so good, that he left his sheep and got +money enough to build a church and a hospice to Christ and St. +Christopher. And I want to do the same for the poor. Not for myself--no, +for the poor. I am Findelkind too, and Findelkind that is in heaven +speaks to me." Then he stopped, and a sob rose again in his throat. + +"He is crazy," said the people, laughing, yet a little scared; for the +priest at Zirl had said rightly, This is not an age of faith. At that +moment there sounded, coming from the barracks, that used to be the +Schloss in the old days of Kaiser Max and Mary of Burgundy, the sound of +drums and trumpets and the tramp of marching feet. It was one of the +corps of jägers of Tyrol going down from the avenue to the Rudolf Platz, +with their band before them and their pennons streaming. It was a +familiar sight, but it drew the street-throngs to it like magic: the age +is not fond of dreamers, but it is very fond of drums. In almost a +moment the old dark arcades and the river-side and the passages near +were all empty, except for the old women sitting at their stalls of +fruit or cakes or toys. They are wonderful arched arcades, like the +cloisters of a cathedral more than anything else, and the shops under +them are all homely and simple--shops of leather, of furs, of clothes, +of wooden playthings, of sweet, wholesome bread. They are very quaint, +and kept by poor folks for poor folks, but to the dazed eyes of +Findelkind they looked like a forbidden Paradise, for he was so hungry +and so heartbroken, and he had never seen any bigger place than little +Zirl. + +He stood and looked wistfully, but no one offered him anything. Close by +was a stall of splendid purple grapes, but the old woman that kept it +was busy knitting. She only called to him to stand out of her light. + +"You look a poor brat: have you a home?" said another woman, who sold +bridles and whips and horses' bells and the like. + +"Oh yes, I have a home--by Martinswand," said Findelkind with a sigh. + +The woman looked at him sharply: "Your parents have sent you on an +errand here?" + +"No, I have run away." + +"Run away? Oh, you bad boy! Unless, indeed--are they cruel to you?" + +"No--very good." + +"Are you a little rogue then, or a thief?" + +"You are a bad woman to think such things," said Findelkind hotly, +knowing himself on how innocent and sacred a quest he was. + +"Bad? I? Oh ho," said the old dame, cracking one of her new whips in the +air, "I should like to make you jump about with this, you thankless +little vagabond! Be off!" + +Findelkind sighed again, his momentary anger passing, for he had been +born with a gentle temper, and thought himself to blame much more +readily than he thought other people were--as, indeed, every wise child +does, only there are so few children--or men--that are wise. + +He turned his head away from the temptation of the bread- and +fruit-stalls, for in truth hunger gnawed him terribly, and wandered a +little to the left. From where he stood he could see the long beautiful +street of Theresa with its oriels and arches, painted windows and gilded +signs, and the steep, gray, dark mountains closing it in at the +distance; but the street frightened him, it looked so grand, and he knew +it would tempt him; so he went where he saw the green tops of some high +elms and beeches. The trees, like the dogs, seemed like friends: it was +the human creatures that were cruel. + +At that moment there came out of the barrack-gates, with great noise of +trumpets and trampling of horses, a group of riders in gorgeous +uniforms, with sabres and chains glancing and plumes tossing. It looked +to Findelkind like a group of knights--those knights who had helped and +defended his namesake with their steel and their gold in the old days of +the Arlberg quest. His heart gave a leap, and he jumped on the dust for +joy, and he ran forward and fell on his knees and waved his cap like a +little mad thing, and cried out, "Oh, dear knights! oh, great soldiers! +help me, fight for me, for the love of the saints! I have come all the +way from Martinswand, and I am Findelkind, and I am trying to serve St. +Christopher like Findelkind of Arlberg." + +But his little swaying body and pleading hands and shouting voice and +blowing curls frightened the horses: one of them swerved, and very +nearly settled the woes of Findelkind for ever and aye by a kick. The +soldier who rode the horse reined him in with difficulty: he was at the +head of the little staff, being indeed no less or more than the general +commanding the garrison, which in this city is some fifteen thousand +strong. An orderly sprang from his saddle and seized the child, and +shook him and swore at him. Findelkind was frightened, but he shut his +eyes and set his teeth, and said to himself that the martyrs must have +had very much worse than these things to suffer in their pilgrimage. He +had fancied these riders were knights--such knights as the priest had +shown him the likeness of in old picture-books--whose mission it had +been to ride through the world succoring the weak and weary and always +defending the right. + +"What are your swords for if you are not knights?" he cried, desperately +struggling in his captor's grip, and seeing through his half-closed lids +the sunshine shining on steel scabbards. + +"What does he want?" asked the officer in command of the garrison, whose +staff all this bright and martial array was. He was riding out from the +barracks to an inspection on the Rudolf Platz. He was a young man, and +had little children himself, and was half amused, half touched, to see +the tiny figure of the dusty little boy. + +"I want to build a monastery like Findelkind of Arlberg, and to help the +poor," said our Findelkind valorously, though his heart was beating like +that of a little mouse caught in a trap, for the horses were trampling +up the dust around him and the orderly's grip was hard. + +The officers laughed aloud; and indeed he looked a poor little scrap of +a figure, very ill able to help even himself. + +"Why do you laugh?" cried Findelkind, losing his terror in his +indignation, and inspired with the courage which a great earnestness +always gives. "You should not laugh. If you were true knights you would +not laugh: you would fight for me. I am little, I know. I am very +little, but he was no bigger than I, and see what great things he did. +But the soldiers were good in those days: they did not laugh and use bad +words." And Findelkind, on whose shoulder the orderly's hold was still +fast, faced the horses which looked to him as huge as Martinswand, and +the swords which he little doubted were to be sheathed in his heart. + +The officers stared, laughed again, then whispered together, and +Findelkind heard them mutter the word "toll." Findelkind, whose quick +little ears were both strained like a mountain-leveret's, understood +that the great men were saying amongst themselves that it was not safe +for him to be about alone, and that it would be kinder to him to catch +and cage him--the general view with which the world regards enthusiasts. + +He heard, he understood: he knew that they did not mean to help him, +these men with the steel weapons and the huge steeds, but that they +meant to shut him up in a prison--him, little free-born, forest-fed +Findelkind. He wrenched himself out of the soldier's grip as the rabbit +wrenches itself out of the jaws of the trap, even at the cost of leaving +a limb behind, shot between the horses' legs, doubled like a hunted +thing, and spied a refuge. Opposite the avenue of gigantic poplars and +pleasant stretches of grass shaded by other bigger trees there stands a +very famous church--famous alike in the annals of history and of +art--the church of the Franciscans that holds the tomb of Kaiser Max, +though, alas! it holds not his ashes, as his dying desire was that it +should. The church stands here, a noble sombre place, with the Silver +Chapel of Philippina Wessler adjoining it, and in front the fresh cool +avenues that lead to the river and the broad water-meadows, and the +grand road bordered with the painted stations of the Cross. + +There were some peasants coming in from the country driving cows; some +burghers in their carts with fat, slow horses; some little children were +at play under the poplars and the elms; great dogs were lying about on +the grass: everything was happy and at peace except the poor throbbing +heart of little Findelkind, who thought the soldiers were coming after +him to lock him up as mad, and ran and ran as fast as his trembling legs +would carry him, making for sanctuary, as in the old bygone days that he +loved many a soul less innocent than his had done. The wide doors of the +Hof Kirche stood open, and on the steps lay a black and tan hound, +watching no doubt for its master and mistress, who had gone within to +pray. Findelkind in his terror vaulted over the dog, and into the church +tumbled headlong. + +It seemed quite dark, after the brilliant sunshine on the river and the +grass: his forehead touched the stone floor as he fell, and as he raised +himself and stumbled forward, reverent and bareheaded, looking for the +altar to cling to when the soldiers should enter to seize him, his +uplifted eyes fell on the great tomb. + +The tomb seems entirely to fill the church as, with its twenty-four +guardian figures round it, it towers up in the twilight that reigns here +even at midday. There is a stern majesty and grandeur in it which dwarfs +every other monument and mausoleum. It is grim, it is rude, it is +savage, with the spirit of the rough ages that created it; but it is +great with their greatness, it is heroic with their heroism, it is +simple with their simplicity. + +As the awestricken eyes of the terrified child fell on the mass of stone +and bronze the sight smote him breathless. The mailed warriors standing +around it, so motionless, so solemn, filled him with a frozen, nameless +fear. He had never a doubt but that they were the dead arisen. The +foremost that met his eyes were Theodoric and Arthur--the next, grim +Rodolf, father of a dynasty of emperors. There, leaning on their swords, +the three gazed down on him, armored, armed, majestic, serious, guarding +the empty grave, which to the child, who knew nothing of its history, +seemed a bier; and at the feet of Theodoric, who alone of them all +looked young and merciful, poor little desperate Findelkind fell with a +piteous sob, and cried, "I am not mad! Indeed, indeed, I am not mad!" + +He did not know that these six figures were but statues of bronze. He +was quite sure they were the dead arisen, and meeting there around that +tomb on which the solitary kneeling knight watched and prayed, +encircled, as by a wall of steel, by these his comrades. He was not +frightened; he was rather comforted and stilled, as with a sudden sense +of some deep calm and certain help. + +Findelkind, without knowing that he was like so many dissatisfied poets +and artists much bigger than himself, dimly felt in his little tired +mind how beautiful and how gorgeous and how grand the world must have +been when heroes and knights like these had gone by in its daily +sunshine and its twilight storms. No wonder Findelkind in heaven had +found his pilgrimage so fair when, if he had needed any help, he had +only had to kneel and clasp these firm mailed limbs, these strong +cross-hilted swords, in the name of Christ and of the poor! + +Theodoric seemed to look down on him with benignant eyes from under the +raised visor, and Findelkind, weeping, threw his small arms closer and +closer round the bronzed knees of the heroic figure and sobbed aloud, +"Help me! help me! Oh, turn the hearts of the people to me, and help me +to do good!" + +But Theodoric answered nothing. + +There was no sound in the dark, hushed church; the gloom grew darker +over Findelkind's eyes; the mighty forms of monarchs and of heroes grew +dim before his sight. He lost consciousness and fell prone upon the +stones at Theodoric's feet, for he had fainted from hunger and emotion. + +When he awoke it was quite evening: there was a lantern held over his +head; voices were muttering curiously and angrily; bending over him were +two priests, a sacristan of the church and his own father. His little +wallet lay by him on the stones, always empty. + +"Liebchen, were you mad?" cried his father, half in rage, half in +tenderness. "The chase you have led me! and your mother thinking you +were drowned! and all the working day lost, running after old women's +tales of where they had seen you! Oh, little fool! little fool! what +was amiss with Martinswand that you must leave it?" + +Findelkind slowly and feebly rose and sat up on the pavement, and looked +up, not at his father, but at the knight Theodoric. "I thought they +would help me to keep the poor," he muttered feebly as he glanced at his +own wallet. "And it is empty, empty!" + +"Are we not poor enough?" cried his father with paternal impatience, +ready to tear his hair with vexation at having such a little idiot for +son. "Must you rove afield to find poverty to help, when it sits cold +enough, the Lord knows, at our own hearth? Oh, little ass! little dolt! +little maniac! fit only for a madhouse! talking to iron figures and +taking them for real men!--What have I done, O Heaven, that I should be +afflicted thus?" + +And the poor man wept, being a good, affectionate soul, but not very +wise, and believing that his boy was mad. Then, seized with sudden rage +once more at thought of his day all wasted and its hours harassed and +miserable through searching for the lost child, he plucked up the light, +slight figure of Findelkind in his own arms, and with muttered thanks +and excuses to the sacristan of the church, bore the boy out with him +into the evening air, and lifted him into a cart which stood there with +a horse harnessed to one side of the pole, as the country-people love to +do, to the risk of their own lives and their neighbors'. Findelkind said +never a word: he was as dumb as Theodoric had been to him; he felt +stupid, heavy, half blind; his father pushed him some bread, and he ate +it by sheer instinct, as a lost animal will do. The cart jogged on, the +stars shone, the great church vanished in the gloom of night. + +As they went through the city toward the river-side and the homeward way +not a single word did his father, who was a silent man at all times, +address to him. Only once as they passed the bridge, "Son," he asked, +"did you run away truly thinking to please God and help the poor?" + +"Truly I did," answered Findelkind with a sob in his throat. + +"Then thou wert an ass," said his father. "Didst never think of thy +mother's love and of my toil? Look at home." + +Findelkind was mute. The drive was very long, backward by the same way, +with the river shining in the moonlight and the mountains half covered +with the clouds. + +It was ten by the bells of Zirl when they came once more under the +solemn shadow of grave Martinswand. There were lights moving about the +house, his brothers and sisters were still up, his mother ran out into +the road, weeping and laughing with fear and joy. + +Findelkind himself said nothing. He hung his head. They were too fond of +him to scold him or to jeer at him: they made him go quickly to his bed, +and his mother made him a warm milk-posset and kissed him. "We will +punish thee to-morrow, naughty and cruel one," said his parent. "But +thou art punished enough already, for in thy place little Stefan had the +sheep, and he has lost Katte's lambs, the beautiful twin lambs! I dare +not tell thy father to-night. Dost hear the poor thing mourn? Do not go +afield for thy duty again." + +A pang went through the heart of Findelkind, as if a knife had pierced +it. He loved Katte better than almost any other living thing, and she +was bleating under his window motherless and alone. They were such +beautiful lambs too!--lambs that his father had promised should never be +killed, but be reared to swell the flock. + +Findelkind cowered down in his bed and felt wretched beyond all +wretchedness. He had been brought back, his wallet was empty, and +Katte's lambs were lost. He could not sleep. His pulses were beating +like so many steam-hammers: he felt as if his body were all one great +throbbing heart. His brothers, who lay in the same chamber with him, +were sound asleep: very soon his father and mother also, on the other +side of the wall. Findelkind was alone, wide awake, watching the big +white moon sail past his little casement and hearing Katte bleat. Where +were her poor twin lambs? The night was bitterly cold, for it was +already far on in autumn; the river had swollen and flooded many fields; +the snow for the last week had fallen quite low down on the +mountain-sides. Even if still living the little lambs would die, out on +such a night without the mother or food and shelter of any sort. +Findelkind, whose vivid brain always saw everything that he imagined as +if it were being acted before his eyes, in fancy saw his two dear lambs +floating dead down the swollen tide, entangled in rushes on the flooded +shore, or fallen with broken limbs upon a crest of rocks. He saw them so +plainly that scarcely could he hold back his breath from screaming aloud +in the still night and arousing the mourning wail of the desolate +mother. + +At last he could bear it no longer: his head burned, and his brain +seemed whirling round. At a bound he leaped out of bed quite +noiselessly, slid into his sheepskins, and stole out as he had done the +night before, hardly knowing what he did. Poor Katte was mourning in the +wooden shed with the other sheep, and the wail of her sorrow sounded +sadly across the loud roar of the rushing river. The moon was still +high. Above, against the sky, black and awful with clouds floating over +its summit, was the great Martinswand. + +Findelkind this time called the big dog Waldmar to him, and with the dog +beside him went once more out into the cold and the gloom, whilst his +father and mother, his brothers and sisters, were sleeping, and poor +childless Katte alone was awake. He looked up at the mountain, and then +across the water-swept meadows to the river. He was in doubt which way +to take. Then he thought that in all likelihood the lambs would have +been seen if they had wandered the river-way, and even little Stefan +would have had too much sense to let them go there. So he crossed the +road and began to climb Martinswand. With the instinct of the born +mountaineer he had brought out his crampons with him, and had now +fastened them on his feet: he knew every part and ridge of the +mountains, and had more than once climbed over to that very spot where +Kaiser Max had hung in peril of his life. + +On second thoughts he bade Waldmar go back to the house. The dog was a +clever mountaineer too, but Findelkind did not wish to lead him into +danger. "I have done the wrong, and I will bear the brunt," he said to +himself; for he felt as if he had killed Katte's children, and the +weight of the sin was like lead on his heart, and he would not kill good +Waldmar too. + +His little lantern did not show much light, and as he went higher upward +he lost sight of the moon. The cold was nothing to him, because the +clear still air was one in which he had been reared; and the darkness he +did not mind, because he was used to that also; but the weight of sorrow +upon him he scarcely knew how to bear, and how to find two tiny lambs in +this vast waste of silence and shadow would have puzzled and wearied +older minds than his. Garibaldi and all his household, old soldiers +tried and true, sought all night once upon Caprera on such a quest in +vain. If he could only have awakened his brother Stefan to ask him which +way they had gone! But then, to be sure, he remembered, Stefan must have +told that to all those who had been looking for the lambs from sunset to +nightfall. All alone he began the ascent. + +Time and again, in the glad spring-time and the fresh summer weather, he +had driven his flock upward to eat the grass that grew in the clefts of +the rocks and on the broad green alps. The sheep could not climb to the +highest points, but the goats did, and he with them. Time and again he +had lain on his back in these uppermost heights, with the lower clouds +behind him and the black wings of the birds and the crows almost +touching his forehead, as he lay gazing up into the blue depth of the +sky and dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. + +He would never dream any more now, he thought to himself. His dreams had +cost Katte her lambs, and the world of the dead Findelkind was gone for +ever: gone all the heroes and knights; gone all the faith and the +force; gone every one who cared for the dear Christ and the poor in +pain. + +The bells of Zirl were ringing midnight. Findelkind heard, and wondered +that only two hours had gone by since his mother had kissed him in his +bed. It seemed to him as if long, long nights had rolled away and he had +lived a hundred years. He did not feel any fear of the dark calm night, +lit now and then by silvery gleams of moon and stars. The mountain was +his old familiar friend, and the ways of it had no more terror for him +than these hills here used to have for the bold heart of Kaiser Max. +Indeed, all he thought of was Katte--Katte and the lambs. He knew the +way that the sheep-tracks ran--the sheep could not climb so high as the +goats--and he knew too that little Stefan could not climb so high as he. +So he began his search low down upon Martinswand. + +After midnight the cold increased: there were snow-clouds hanging near, +and they opened over his head, and the soft snow came flying along. For +himself he did not mind it, but alas for the lambs! If it covered them, +how would he find them? And if they slept in it they were dead. + +It was bleak and bare on the mountain-side, though there were still +patches of grass, such as the flocks liked, that had grown since the hay +was cut. The frost of the night made the stone slippery, and even the +irons gripped it with difficulty, and there was a strong wind rising +like a giant's breath, and blowing his small horn lantern to and fro. +Now and then he quaked a little with fear--not fear of the night or the +mountains, but of strange spirits and dwarfs and goblins of ill repute, +said to haunt Martinswand after nightfall. Old women had told him of +such things, though the priest always said that they were only foolish +tales, there being nothing on God's earth wicked save men and women who +had not clean hearts and hands. Findelkind believed the priest; still, +all alone on the side of the mountain, with the snowflakes flying round +him, he felt a nervous thrill that made him tremble and almost turn +backward. Almost, but not quite, for he thought of Katte and the poor +little lambs lost--and perhaps dead--through his fault. + +The path went zigzag and was very steep; the Siberian pines swayed their +boughs in his face; stones that lay in his path, unseen in the gloom, +made him stumble. Now and then a large bird of the night flew by with a +rushing sound: the air grew so cold that all Martinswand might have been +turning to one huge glacier. All at once he heard through the +stillness--for there is nothing so still as a mountain-side in snow--a +little pitiful bleat. All his terrors vanished, all his memories of +ghost-tales passed away; his heart gave a leap of joy; he was sure it +was the cry of the lambs. He stopped to listen more surely. He was now +many score of feet above the level of his home and of Zirl: he was, as +nearly as he could judge, halfway as high as where the cross in the +cavern marks the spot of the kaiser's peril. The little bleat sounded +above him, and it was very feeble and faint. + +Findelkind set his lantern down, braced himself up by drawing tighter +his old leathern girdle, set his sheepskin cap firm on his forehead, and +went toward the sound as far as he could judge that it might be. He was +out of the woods now: there were only a few straggling pines rooted here +and there in a mass of loose-lying rock and slate. So much he could tell +by the light of the lantern, and the lambs, by the bleating, seemed +still above him. + +It does not perhaps seem very hard labor to hunt about by a dusky light +upon a desolate mountain-side, but when the snow is falling fast, when +the light is only a small circle, wavering yellowish on the white, when +around is a wilderness of loose stones and yawning clefts, when the air +is ice and the hour is past midnight, the task is not a light one for a +man; and Findelkind was a child, like that Findelkind that was in +heaven. + +Long, very long, was his search: he grew hot and forgot all fear, except +a spasm of terror lest his light should burn low and die out. The +bleating had quite ceased now, and there was not even a sigh to guide +him; but he knew that near him the lambs must be, and he did not waver +nor despair. + +He did not pray--praying in the morning had been no use--but he trusted +in God, and he labored hard, toiling to and fro, seeking in every nook +and behind each stone, and straining every muscle and nerve, till the +sweat rolled in a briny dew off his forehead and his curls dripped with +wet. At last, with a scream of joy, he touched some soft, close wool +that gleamed white as the white snow. He knelt down on the ground and +peered behind the stone by the full light of his lantern: there lay the +little lambs--two little brothers, twin brothers, huddled close +together, asleep. Asleep? He was sure they were asleep, for they were so +silent and still. + +He bowed over them and kissed them, and laughed and cried, and kissed +them again. Then a sudden horror smote him: they were so very still. +There they lay, cuddled close, one on another, one little white head on +each little white body, drawn closer than ever together to try and get +warm. He called to them; he touched them; then he caught them up in his +arms, and kissed them again and again and again. Alas! they were frozen +and dead. Never again would they leap in the long green grass, and frisk +with one another, and lie happy by Katte's side: they had died calling +for their mother, and in the long, cold, cruel night only Death had +answered. + +Findelkind did not weep nor scream nor tremble: his heart seemed frozen, +like the dead lambs. It was he who had killed them. He rose up and +gathered them in his arms, and cuddled them in the skirts of his +sheepskin tunic, and cast his staff away that he might carry them; and +so, thus burdened with their weight, set his face to the snow and the +wind once more and began his downward way. Once a great sob shook him: +that was all. Now he had no fear. The night might have been noonday, the +snowstorm might have been summer, for aught that he knew or cared. + +Long and weary was the way, and often he stumbled and had to rest; +often the terrible sleep of the snow lay heavy on his eyelids, and he +longed to lie down and be at rest, as the little brothers were; often it +seemed to him that he would never reach home again. But he shook the +lethargy off him and resisted the longing, and held on his way: he knew +that his mother would mourn for him as Katte mourned for the lambs. At +length, through all difficulty and danger, when his light had spent +itself, and his strength had wellnigh spent itself too, his feet touched +the old highroad. There were flickering torches and many people and loud +cries around the church, as there had been four hundred years before, +when the last sacrament had been said in the valley for the hunter-king +doomed to perish above. His mother, being sleepless and anxious, had +risen long before it was dawn, and had gone to the children's chamber, +and had found the bed of Findelkind empty once more. + +He came into the midst of the people with the two little lambs in his +arms, and he heeded neither the outcries of neighbors nor the frenzied +joy of his mother: his eyes looked straight before him and his face was +white like the snow. "I killed them," he said; and then two great tears +rolled down his cheeks and fell on the little cold bodies of the two +little dead twin brothers. + +Findelkind was very ill for many nights and many days after that. +Whenever he spoke in his fever he always said, "I killed them." Never +anything else. So the dreary winter months went by, while the deep snow +filled up valleys and meadows and covered the great mountains from +summit to base, and all around Martinswand was quite still, save that +now and then the post went by to Zirl, and on the holy days the bells +tolled: that was all. His mother sat between the stove and his bed with +a sore heart; and his father, as he went to and fro between the walls of +beaten snow from the wood-shed to the cattle-byre, was sorrowful, +thinking to himself the child would die and join that earlier Findelkind +whose home was with the saints. + +But the child did not die. He lay weak and wasted and almost motionless +a long time, but slowly, as the spring-time drew near, and the snows on +the lower hills loosened, and the abounding waters coursed green and +crystal-clear down all the sides of the hills, Findelkind revived as the +earth did, and by the time the new grass was springing and the first +blue of the gentian gleamed on the Alps he was well. + +But to this day he seldom plays, and scarcely ever laughs. His face is +sad and his eyes have a look of trouble. Sometimes the priest of Zirl +says of him to others, "He will be a great poet or a great hero some +day." Who knows? + +Meanwhile, in the heart of the child there remains always a weary pain +that lies on his childish life as a stone may lie on a flower. "I killed +them," he says often to himself, thinking of the two little white +brothers frozen to death on Martinswand that cruel night; and he does +the things that are told him, and is obedient, and tries to be content +with the humble daily duties that are his lot, and when he says his +prayers at bedtime always ends them so: "Dear God, do let the little +lambs play with Findelkind that is in heaven." + + OUIDA. + + + + +HORSE-RACING IN FRANCE. + +CONCLUDING PAPER. + + +By the end of July the dispersion of the racing fraternity has become +general. Some have gone into the provinces to lead the pleasant life of +the château; some are in the Pyrenees, eating trout and _cotelettes +d'izard_ at Luchon; while those whom the Paris season has quite worn +out, or put in what they would call too "high" a condition, are +refitting at Mont Dore or else at Vichy, which is the Saratoga of +France--with this difference, that nobody goes to Vichy unless he is +really ill, and that very few were ever known to get married there. But +if our friend the sportsman should happen to have nothing the matter +with him, and should know of nothing better to do during the summer than +to go where his equine instincts would lead him, he may spend the month +of July at least in following what is called "the Norman circuit." This +consists of a series of meetings at different places, either on the +coast or very near the Channel, in that green land of Normandy which is +to France what the blue-grass region of Kentucky is to America--the +great horse-raising province of the country. Here the circuit begins +with the Beauvais meeting, always largely attended by reason of its +proximity to Paris and to the numerous châteaux, all occupied at this +season of the year, and in one of which, at Mouchy-le-Chastel, the duc +de Mouchy entertains a large and distinguished company. Sunday and +Tuesday are the days for races at Beauvais, Monday being given up to +pigeon-shooting. Then follow in quick succession the _courses_ of +Amiens, Abbeville, Rouen, Havre and Caen; and in all these places the +daily programme will be found to be a very varied one--too much so, +indeed, to suit the taste of the English, whose notions of the fitness +of things are offended by the sight of a steeple-chase and a flat-race +on the same track. The Normans, on the contrary, finding even this +double attraction insufficient, add to it the excitement of a +trotting-match in harness and under the saddle. And such trotting! +"Allais! marchais!" shouts the starter in good Norman, and away go the +horses, dragging their lumbering, rattling Norman carts, guided by +equally ponderous Norman peasants, over a track that is sure to be heavy +or else too hard--conditions sufficient of themselves to account for the +fact that the time made by these provincial trotters has not by any +means been reduced to figures like the 2.18 of Dexter or the phenomenal +2.14 of Goldsmith Maid. It is possible, however, that this somewhat +primitive condition of things may be gradually bettered by time, and +that when American institutions and customs shall have come to be the +_mode_ in France trotting-races, and perhaps walking-matches and +base-ball, will be developed with the rest; but up to the present time, +it must be confessed, these various amusements have been regarded by the +French public with profound indifference. + +I cannot help feeling the most lively regret that trotting-contests +should have taken no hold upon the fancy of my countrymen, who would +find in their magnificent roads an opportunity for the demonstration of +the practical, every-day value of a good trotter far more favorable than +any possessed by America. But it seems that no considerations of utility +or convenience can prevail against popular prejudices and, above all, +the _mode_; and we find even the baron d'Étreilles, official handicapper +and starter to the Jockey Club--and therefore an authority--writing this +singular paragraph in _Le Sport_: "Trotting-races deserve but little +encouragement. The so-called trotting-horse does not, in fact, trot at +all. His pace is forced to such a degree of exaggeration as to lose all +regularity, at the same time that it is rendered valueless for any +practical purpose. The trotter can no more be put to his speed upon an +ordinary road than can the racer himself. By breaking up the natural +gait of a horse he is made to attain an exceptional speed, it is true, +but in doing so he has contracted an abnormal sort of movement for which +it is impossible to find a name. It is something between a trot and a +racking pace, and with it a first-rate trotter can make four kilomètres +(two miles and a half) in seven minutes and a half, and not much less, +whatever may be said to the contrary. I know that certain time-keepers +have marked this distance as having been done in seven minutes, but this +I consider disputable, to say the least." M. d'Étreilles cites, however, +as an exception to his rules, a horse called Rochester, belonging to the +Prince E. de Beauvan, which trotted nineteen miles in one hour without +breaking or pacing, but when a return bet was proposed, with the +distance increased to twenty miles, the owner of Rochester refused. + +These assertions of the French authority will appear strange enough to +Americans. But we must add that the views of M. d'Étreilles on this +subject are by no means universally shared in France. A writer whose +practical experience and long observation entitle his opinions to much +weight--M. Gayot--goes so far as to say that the American trotters +really form a distinct race. "The Northern States of the Union," he +writes, "have accomplished for the trotter what England has done for the +thoroughbred: by selecting the best--that is to say, the swiftest and +the most enduring--and by breeding from these, there has been fixed in +the very nature of their progeny that wonderful aptitude for speed +which," in direct contradiction to the opinion of M. d'Étreilles, he +declares to be "of the greatest practical utility." + +The administration of the Haras and the Society for the Encouragement of +the Raising of Horses of Half-blood have established special meetings at +which trotting-prizes are given. That these are by no means to be +despised has been proved by M. Jouben's Norman trotter Tentateur, who +last year earned for his owner twenty thousand francs without the bets. +There is a special journal, _La France Chevaline_, which represents the +interests of the "trot," and its development has been further encouraged +by an appropriation of sixty thousand francs voted this year by the +Chamber. A former officer of the Haras has also set up an establishment +at Vire for the training of trotters. In 1878 a track was laid out at +Maison Lafitte, near Paris, for the trial of trotting-horses, and the +government, in the hope that animals trained to this gait would be sent +to Paris from other countries during the great Exhibition if sufficient +inducement were offered, awarded a sum of sixty-two thousand francs to +be given in premiums. Six races took place on the principal day of the +trials. These were in harness to two- and four-wheeled wagons, and two +of the matches were won by Normans, two by English horses and two by +horses from Russia of the Orloff breed. America was, unfortunately, not +represented. As to the public, it took little interest in the event, +notwithstanding its novelty: the few persons who had come to look on +soon grew tired of it, and after the fourth race not a single spectator +was left upon the stands. + +The marquis de MacMahon, brother of the marshal, used to say that the +gallop was the gait of happy people, the natural movement of women and +of fools. "The three prettiest things in the world," wrote Balzac, "are +a frigate under sail, a woman dancing and a horse at full run." I leave +these opinions, so essentially French, to the judgment of Americans, and +turn to another point of difference in the racing customs of the two +countries. + +In France the practice of recording the _time_ of a race is looked upon +as childish. The reason given is, that horses that have run or trotted +separately against time will often show quite contrary results when +matched against each other, and that the one that has made the shortest +time on the separate trial will frequently be easily beaten on the same +track by the one that showed less speed when tried alone. However this +may be, it appears that the average speed of running races in France has +increased since 1872. At that time it was one minute and two to three +seconds for one thousand mètres (five furlongs); for two thousand +mètres (a mile and a quarter), 2m. 8 to 10s.; for three thousand mètres +(one mile seven furlongs), 3m. 34 to 35s.; for four thousand mètres (two +miles and a half), 4m. 30 to 35s. The distance of the Prix Gladiateur +(six thousand two hundred mètres or three and three-quarter miles one +furlong)--the longest in France--is generally accomplished in 8m. 5 to +6s., though Mon Étoile has done it in 7m. 25s. But the mean speed, as we +have said, has been raised since 1872, as it has been in America. + +But let us come back to our Norman circuit, which this digression about +time and trotting interrupted at Rouen. The sleepy old mediæval town on +this occasion rouses itself from its dreams of the past and awakens to +welcome the crowd of Norman farmers who come flocking in, clad for the +most part in the national blue blouse, but still bearing about their +persons those unmistakable though quite indescribable marks by which the +turfman can recognize at a glance and under any costume the man whose +business is with horses. Every trade and calling in life perhaps may be +said to impart to its followers some distinguishing peculiarity by which +the brethren of the craft at least will instinctively know each other; +and amongst horse-fanciers these mysterious signs of recognition are as +infallible as the signals of Freemasonry. As one penetrates still +farther into Normandy on his way to the Caen races--which come off a few +days after those at Rouen--one becomes still more alive to the fact that +he is in a great horse-raising country. It is indeed to the departments +of Calvados and the Orne beyond all other places that we owe those fine +Norman stallions of which so many have been imported into America. In +the Pin stud, at the fairs of Guibray and of Montagne, one may see the +descendants of the colossal Roman-nosed horses of Merlerault and +Cotentin which used to bear the weight of riders clad in iron, and which +figure at a later day in the pictures of Van der Meulen. The infusion of +English blood within the present century, and particularly during the +Second Empire, has profoundly modified the character of the animal +known to our ancestors: the Norman, with the rest of the various races +once so numerous in France, is rapidly disappearing, and it will not be +very long before two uniform types only will prevail--the draught-horse +and the thoroughbred. + +The race-course at Caen is one of the oldest in France, having been +established as long ago as 1837. The most important events of its +programme are the Prix de la Ville (handicap), with premium and stakes +amounting to twenty or twenty-five thousand francs, on which the +heaviest bets of the intermediate season are made, and the Grand St. +Léger of France, which before the war took place at Moulins, and which +is far from being of equal importance with the celebrated race at +Doncaster whose name it bears. The site of the track at Caen is a +beautiful meadow upon the banks of the Orne, very long and bordered with +fine trees, but unfortunately too narrow, and consequently awkward at +the turns. + +By the rules of the Société colts of two years are not allowed to run +before the first of August, and as the Caen races take place during the +first week of this month, they have the first gathering of the season's +crop of two-year-olds--an event which naturally excites the curiosity of +followers of the turf. The wisdom and utility of subjecting animals of +this age to such a strain upon their powers have been much discussed, +and good judges have strongly condemned the precocious training +involved, as tending to check the natural development of the horse, and +sometimes putting a premature end to his career as a racer. In England +these races have been multiplied to abuse. There are signs of a +reaction, however, in France, where several owners of racing-stables, +following the example set by M. Lupin, have found their advantage in +refusing to take part in the pernicious practice. For, after all, these +first trials really prove nothing at all. They are found to furnish no +standard by which any accurate measure can be taken of the future +achievements of the horse. In fact, if one will take the trouble to +examine the lists of winners of these two-year-old criterions, as they +are called, he will find but very few names that have afterward become +illustrious in the annals of the turf. + +The races of Caen over, their followers take themselves some few leagues +farther upon their circuit, to attend the meeting at Cabourg, one of +those pretty little towns, made up of about a hundred villas, four +hotels, a church and a casino, that lie scattered along the Norman coast +like beads of a broken necklace. Living is dear in these stylish little +out-of-the-way places, and this naturally keeps away the more plebeian +element that frequents the great centres. About the fifteenth of August +begins the week of races at Déauville, the principal event of the Norman +circuit, bringing together not unfrequently as many as a hundred and +sixty horses, and ranking, in fact, as third in importance in all +France, the meetings at Longchamps and Chantilly alone taking precedence +of it. It is to the duc de Morny that Déauville owes the existence of +its "hippodrome," but the choice of this bit of sandy beach, that seemed +to have been thrown up and abandoned by the sea like a waif, cannot be +called a happy one. It may be, however, that the duke's selection of the +site was determined by its proximity to the luxuriant valley of the +Auge, so famous for its excellent pasturage and for the number of its +stables. The Victor stud belonging to M. Aumont, that of Fervacques, the +property of M. de Montgomery, and the baron de Rothschild's +establishment at Meautry, are all in the immediate neighborhood of +Déauville; but even these advantages do not compensate for the +unfavorable character of the track, laid out, as we have said, upon land +from which the sea had receded, and which, as might have been expected, +was sure to be hard and cracked in a dry season. To remedy this most +serious defect, and to bring the ground to its present degree of +excellence, large sums had to be expended. The aspect of the race-course +to-day, however, is really charming. A rustic air has been given to the +stands, the ring, even to the stables that enclose the paddock, but it +is a rusticity quite compatible with elegance, like that of the pretty +Norman farm in the garden of Trianon. The purse for two-year-olds used +to be called, under the Empire, the Prix Morny, but this name was +withdrawn at the same time that the statue of the duke, which once stood +in Déauville, was pulled down. + +Our Norman circuit comes to a close with the races at Dieppe, which +finished last year on the 26th of August. Dieppe was celebrated during +the Empire for its steeple-chases, which were run upon a somewhat hilly +ground left almost in its natural state--a very unusual thing in France. +The flat- and hurdle-races which have succeeded to these since the war +are not of sufficient importance to detain us. + +Returning from this agreeable summer jaunt, in which the pleasures of +sea-bathing have added a zest to the enjoyment of the race-course, the +followers of the turf will seek, on coming back to Paris in the early +days of September, the autumn meetings at Fontainebleau and at +Longchamps. But they will not find the paddock of the latter at this +season of the year bustling with the life and fashion that gave it such +brilliancy in the spring, and the "return from the races" is made up of +little else than hired cabs drawn by broken-down steeds. It is just the +period when Paris, crowded with economical strangers, English or +German--the former on their return, perhaps, from Switzerland, the +latter enjoying their vacation after their manner--mourns the absence of +her own gay world. The _haute gomme_--the swells, the upper ten--are +still in the provinces. They have left the sea-side, it is true--it was +time for that--but the season in the Pyrenees is not over yet, and +Luchon and Bigone will be full until the middle of September, and not +before the month is ended will Biarritz give up her pleasure-seekers. +The opening of the shooting season on the first Sunday of September has +scattered the sportsmen throughout the twenty-five or thirty departments +in which there is still left a chance of finding game. But the best +shooting is in the neighborhood of Paris, in the departments of +Seine-et-Marne and Seine-et-Oise--at Grosbois with the prince de +Wagram; at St. Germain-les-Corbeil on the estate of M. Darblay; at +Bois-Boudran with the comte de Greffuhle; or at the château of the baron +de Rothschild at Ferrières; and the numerous guests of these gentlemen +may, if they are inclined, take a day to see the Omnium or the Prix +Royal Oak run between two _battues aux faisans_. The Omnium is the most +important of the handicaps: it is the French Cæsarewitch, though with a +difference. The distance of the latter is two miles and two furlongs, +that of the Omnium but a mile and a half. The value of the stakes is +generally from twenty-five to thirty thousand francs. As its name would +indicate, this race, by exception to the fundamental principle of the +Jockey Club, is open to horses of every kind, without regard to +pedigree, above the age of three years. A horse that has gained a prize +of two thousand francs after the publication of the weights is +handicapped with an overweight of two kilogrammes and a half (a trifle +over five pounds); if he has gained several such, with three kilos; if +he is the winner of an eight-thousand-franc purse, he has to carry an +overweight of four kilos, or one of five kilos if he has won more than +one race of the value last mentioned. The publication of the weights +takes place at the end of June, when the betting begins. Heavy and +numerous are the wagers on this important race, and as the prospects of +the various horses entered change from time to time according to the +prizes gained and the overweights incurred, the quotation naturally +undergoes the most unlooked-for variations. A lot of money is won and +lost before the real favorites have revealed themselves; that is to say, +before the last week preceding the race. The winner of the Omnium is +hardly ever a horse of the first rank, and the baron d'Étreilles +undertakes to tell us why. The object of the handicap, he says, being to +equalize the chances of several horses of different degrees of merit, +the handicapper is in a manner obliged to make it next to impossible for +the first-rate horses to win; otherwise, the owners of the inferior +animals, seeing that they had no chance, would prefer to pay forfeit, +and the harmony, as it were, of the contest--the even balancing of +chances, which is of the very essence of the handicap--would be lacking. +On the other hand, the handicapper cannot bring the chances of the +really bad horses up to the mean average, no matter how much he may +favor them in the weights, and thus it nearly always turns out that the +Omnium, like every other important handicap, is won by a horse of the +second class, generally a three-year-old, whose real merits have been +hidden from the handicapper. This concealment is not so difficult as it +might seem. There are certain owners who, when they have satisfied +themselves by trials made before the spring races that they have in +their stables a few horses not quite good enough to stand a chance in +the great contests, but still by no means without valuable qualities, +prefer to reserve them for an important affair like the Omnium, on which +they can bet heavily and to advantage, especially if they have a "dark +horse," or one that is as yet unknown. Otherwise, to what use could +these second-rate horses be put? If one should run them in the spring +they might get one or two of the smaller stakes, after which everybody +would have their measure. Their owners, therefore, show wisdom in +keeping them out of sight, or perhaps, as some of the shrewder ones do, +by running them when rather out of condition, and thus ensuring their +defeat by adversaries really inferior to themselves. In this way the +handicapper is deceived as to their true qualities, and is induced to +weight them advantageously for the Omnium. + +Many readers but little conversant with turf matters will no doubt be +scandalized to hear of these tricks of the trade, and will be apt to +conclude that good faith is no more the fashion at Longchamps than at +the Bourse, and that cleverness in betting, as in stockjobbing, consists +in knowing when to depreciate values and when to inflate them, as one +happens to be a bull or a bear in the market. The truth is, that no +rules can be devised, either by Jockey Clubs or by imperial parliaments, +that can put a stop to these abuses: they will exist, in spite of +legislation, as long as the double character of owner and better can be +united in the same person. If this person should not act in perfect good +faith, all restraining laws will be illusory, because the betting owner +has the cards in his own hands, and can withdraw a horse or make him run +at his pleasure, or even make him lose a race in case of need. If the +thing is managed with skill, it is almost impossible to discover the +deception. In 1877, at Déauville, the comte de Clermont-Tonnere and his +jockey, Goddart, were expelled from the turf because the latter had +"pulled" his horse in such a clumsy and unmistakable way that the +spectators could not fail to see it. This circumstance was without +precedent in France, and yet how often has the trick, which in this case +was exposed, been practised without any one being the wiser for it! It +ought to be added that the betters make one claim that is altogether +unreasonable, and that is--at least this is the only inference from +their talk--that when they have once "taken" a horse, as they call it, +in a race, the owner thereby loses a part of his proprietorship in the +animal, and is bound to share his rights of ownership with them. But one +cannot thus limit the rights of property, and as long as the owner does +not purposely lose a race, and does not deceive the handicapper as to +the real value of his horse for the purpose of getting a reduction of +weights, he can surely do as he pleases with his own. There will remain, +of course, the question of morality and of delicacy, of which each one +must be the judge for himself. M. Lupin, for example, and Lord Falmouth, +when they have two horses engaged for the same purse, always let these +take their chances, and do nothing to prevent the better horse from +being the winner, while the comte de Lagrange, as we have had occasion +to observe before, has acquired the reputation of winning, if he can, +with his worst animal, or at least with the one upon whose success the +public has least counted. This is what took place when he gained the +Grand Prix de Paris in 1877 with an outsider, St. Christophe, whilst +all the betters had calculated upon the victory of his other horse, +Verneuil. So the duke of Hamilton in 1878 at Goodwood, where one of his +horses was the favorite, declared just at the start that he meant to win +with another, and by his orders the favorite was pulled double at the +finish. The same year, in America, Mr. Lorillard caused Parole, then a +two-year-old, to be beaten by one of his stable-companions and one +decidedly his inferior. When this sort of thing is done the ring makes a +great uproar about it, but without reason, for there can be no question +of an owner's right to save his best horse, if he can, from a future +overweight by winning with another not so good. Only he ought frankly to +declare his intention to do so before the race. + +The autumn stakes that rank next in importance to the Omnium are known +as the Prix Royal Oak, open, like its counterpart, the St. Leger of +Doncaster, to colts and fillies of three years only, with an unloading +of three pounds for the latter. On this occasion one will have an +opportunity of seeing again in the Bois de Boulogne the contestants of +the great prizes of the spring. The Royal Oak is nearly always won by a +horse of the first class, and in the illustrious list may be found the +names of Gladiateur and of four winners of the French Derby--Patricien, +Boïard, Kilt and Jongleur. + +In October, Longchamps is deserted for Chantilly, where the trials of +two-year-olds take place--the first criterion for horses, the second +criterion for fillies--the distance in these two races being eight +hundred mètres, or half a mile. The Grand Criterion, for colts and +fillies, has a distance of double this, or one mile (sixteen hundred +mètres). Since their débuts in August at Caen and Déauville the young +horses have had time to harden and to show better what they are made of; +and it is in the Grand Criterion that one looks for the most certain +indications of their future career. The names of the winners will be +found to include many that have afterward become celebrated, such as Mon +Étoile, Stradella, Le Béarnais, Mongoubert, Sornette, Révigny and +others. + +Chantilly is the birthplace of racing in France. In the winter of +1833--the same year which also witnessed the foundation of the Jockey +Club--Prince Labanoff, who was then living at Chantilly, and who had +secured the privilege of hunting in the forest, invited several +well-known lovers of the chase to join him in the sport. Tempted by the +elasticity of the turf, it occurred to the hunters to get up a race, and +meeting at the Constable's Table--a spot where once stood the stump of a +large tree on which, as the story goes, the constable of France used to +dine--they improvised a race-course which has proved the prolific mother +of the tracks to be found to-day all over the country. In this first +trial M. de Normandie was the winner. The fate of Chantilly was decided. +Since the suicide--or the assassination--of the last of the Condés the +castle had been abandoned, the duc d'Aumale, its inheritor, being then a +minor. The little town itself seemed dying of exhaustion. It was +resolved to infuse into it a new life by taking advantage of the +exceptional quality of its turf. The soil is a rather hard sand, +resisting pressure, elastic, and covered with a fine thick sward, and of +a natural drainage so excellent that even the longest rains have no +visible effect upon it. On this ground--as good as, if not better than, +that at Newmarket--there is to-day a track of two thousand mètres, or a +mile and a quarter--the distance generally adopted in France--with good +turns, excepting the one known as the "Réservoirs," which is rather +awkward, and which has the additional disadvantage of skirting the road +to the training-stables--a temptation to bolt that is sometimes too +strong for horses of a doubtful character. For this reason there is +sometimes a little confusion in the field at this point. Before coming +to the last turn there is a descent, followed by a rise--both of them +pretty stiff--and this undoubtedly has its effect on the result, for the +lazier horses fall away a little on the ascent. Just at this point too a +clump of trees happens to hide the track from the spectators on the +stands, and all the lorgnettes are turned on the summit of the rise to +watch for the reappearance of the horses, who are pretty sure to turn up +in a different order from that in which they were last seen. This crisis +of the race is sometimes very exciting. A magnificent forest of beech +borders and forms a background to the race-course in the rear of the +stands; in front rise the splendid and imposing stables of the duc +d'Aumale, built by Mansard for the Great Condé; on the right is the +pretty Renaissance château of His Royal Highness; while the view loses +itself in a vast horizon of distant forest and hills of misty blue. The +stands are the first that were erected in France, and in 1833 they +seemed no doubt the height of comfort and elegance, but to-day they are +quite too small to accommodate the ever-increasing crowd. The stands as +well as the stables, and the race-course itself, all belong to the duc +d'Aumale, who gave a splendid house-warming and brilliant fête last +October to celebrate the completion of the restorations of his ancestral +château. Under the Empire, the property of the Orleans princes having +been confiscated, a nominal transfer of Chantilly was made to a friend +of the family. The emperor, having one day signified his wish to witness +the Derby, had the mortification on his arrival to find the reserved +stand closed against him by the prince's orders. It was necessary to +force the gate. The emperor took the hint, however, and never went to +Chantilly again. + +The soil of the Forest of Fontainebleau being of the same nature as that +of the turf in the open, the alleys of the park furnish an invaluable +resource to the trainer. For this reason, since racing has come in +vogue, most of the stables have found their way to Chantilly or to its +immediate neighborhood, where one of the largest and finest alleys of +the forest, running parallel to the railway and known as the Alley of +the Lions, has been given up to their use. Thus, Chantilly, with its +Derby Day and its training-grounds, may be called at once the Epsom and +the Newmarket of France. There is hardly a horse, with the exception of +those of the comte de Lagrange and of M. Lupin, and those of Henry +Jennings, the public trainer, that is not "worked" in the Alley of the +Lions. The Société d'Encouragement has control of the training-ground as +well as of the track, and also claims the right to keep spectators away +from the trial-gallops, so that the duc d'Aumale, whose proprietary +privileges are thus usurped, is often at war with the society. He has +stag-hunts twice a week during the winter, on Mondays and Thursdays, and +now and then on Sundays too--as he did with the grand duke of Austria on +his late visit to Chantilly--and he naturally objects to having the hunt +cut in two by the gallops over his principal avenue. He worries the +trainers to such a degree that they begin to talk of quitting Chantilly +for some more hospitable quarters. When things get to this pass the +duke, who, in his character of councillor-general, is bound to look +after the interests of his constituents, relents, and putting aside his +personal wrongs calls a parley with the stewards of the races, offers a +new prize--an object of art perhaps--or talks of enlarging the stands, +and the gage of reconciliation being accepted, peace is made to last +until some new _casus belli_ shall occur. His Royal Highness is not +forgetful of the duties of his position. When he is at Chantilly on a +race-day he gracefully does the honors of his reserved stand to all the +little Orleanist court. Since the reconciliation that took place between +the comte de Paris and the comte de Chambord in 1873 this miniature +court has been enlarged by the addition of several personages of the +Legitimist circle, and the "ring" at Chantilly is often graced with a +most distinguished and aristocratic assemblage. Amongst the beauties of +this brilliant company may be especially noticed Madame de Viel-Castel, +the young princesse Amédé de Broglie, the duchesse de Chaulnes with her +strange, unconventional type of beauty, Madame Ferdinand Bischoffsheim, +the comtesse Beugnot, the comtesse Tanneguy-Duchâtel and the princesse +de Sagan. And when all this gay party has dispersed, and the duke is +left to his cigar--as constant a companion as the historical weed in +the mouth of General Grant--he might almost fancy, as he walks the great +street of his good town, that he is back again at Twickenham in the days +of his exile. There is something to remind him on every side of the +country that once sheltered him. To right and left are English +farrieries, English saddleries, and English bars and taverns too. +English is the language that reaches his ears, and English of the most +"horsey" sort that one can hear this side of Newmarket. Everybody has +the peculiar gait and costume that belong to the English horseman: the +low-crowned hat, the short jacket, those tight trousers and big, strong +boots, are not to be mistaken. It is a little world in itself, in which +no Frenchman could long exist, but its peculiar inhabitants have not, +for all that, neglected anything that may attract the young folk of the +country. They have even offered the bribe of a race in which only French +jockeys are permitted to ride, but these, with only an exception here +and there, have very promptly given up the business, disgusted either by +the severe regimen required in the matter of diet or by the rigorous +discipline indispensable in a training-stable. The few exceptions to +which I have referred have not sufficed to prevent this race from +falling into disrepute; but it may be worth mentioning that on the last +occasion on which it was run, the 19th October last, when but three or +four horses were engaged, the baron de Bizé, with what has been called a +veritable inspiration of genius, threw an unlooked-for interest into the +event by mounting in person M. Camille Blanc's horse Nonancourt, and +winning the race with him. It is to be borne in mind that the riders +must not only have been born in France, but must be of French parentage +on the side of both father and mother. + +The best-known jockeys are nearly all the children of English parents, +and have first seen the light in the little colony at Chantilly or else +have been brought very young into France. I give some of their names, +classed according to the number of victories gained by them respectively +in 1878: Hunter, who generally rides for M. Fould, 47 victories; +Wheeler, head-jockey and trainer for M. Ed. Blanc, 45 victories; Hislop, +39; Hudson, ex-jockey to M. Lupin, who gained last year the Grand Prix +de Paris, 36 victories; Rolf, 35; Carratt, 32; Goater, who rides for the +comte de Lagrange, and who is well known in England; and Edwards, whose +"mount" was at one time quite the mode, and whose tragical death on the +3d of October last created a painful sensation. When Lamplugh was +training for the duke of Hamilton he made Edwards "first stable-boy," +and this and his subsequent successes excited a violent jealousy in one +of his stable-companions named Page. The two jockeys separated, but +instead of fighting a duel, as Frenchmen might have done, they simply +rode against each other one day at Auteuil--Page on Leona, and Edwards +on Peau-d'Âne. The struggle was a desperate one: both riders got bad +falls from their exhausted mares, and from that time poor Edwards never +regained his _aplomb_. He frequently came to grief afterward, and met +his death in consequence of a fall from Slowmatch at Maison Lafitte. + +One of the oldest celebrities of Chantilly is Charles Pratt, formerly +trainer and jockey for the baron Nivière and for the late Charles +Lafitte, and at present in the service of the prince d'Aremberg. His +system of training approached very nearly that of Henry Jennings, under +whose orders and instructions he had worked for a long time. His horses +were always just in the right condition on the day they were wanted, and +as he never allowed them to be overridden, their legs remained uninjured +for many years--a thing that has become too rare in France as well as in +England. As a jockey Pratt possessed, better than any other, that +knowledge of pace without which a rider is sure to commit irreparable +mistakes. At the Grand Prix de Paris of 1870, when he rode Sornette, he +undertook the daring feat of keeping the head of the field from the +start to the finish. Such an enterprise in a race so important and so +trying as this demanded the nicest instinct for pace and the most +thorough knowledge, which as trainer he already possessed, of the +impressionable nature and high qualities of his mare. + +The autumn meetings at Chantilly close the legitimate season in France. +The affairs at Tours are of little interest except to the foreign +colony--which at this season of the year is pretty numerous in +Touraine--and to the people of the surrounding country. On these +occasions the cavalry officers in garrison at Tours get up paper hunts, +a species of sport which is rapidly growing in favor and promises to +become a national pastime. Whatever interest attaches to the November +races at Bordeaux is purely local. Turfmen who cannot get through the +winter without the sight of the jockeys' silk jackets and the +bookmakers' mackintoshes must betake themselves to Pau in December. The +first of the four winter meetings takes place during this month upon a +heath at a distance of four kilomètres--say about two miles and a +half--from the town. The exceptional climate and situation of Pau, where +the frozen-out fox-hunters of England come to hunt, and where there is a +populous American colony, will no doubt before long give a certain +importance to these races, but just now the local committee is short of +funds and the stakes have been insufficient to offer an attraction to +good horses. Last winter in one of the steeple-chases _all_ the horses +tumbled pell-mell into the river, which was the very first obstacle they +encountered, and although the public was quite used to seeing riders +come to grief, it found the incident somewhat extraordinary. + +The meetings at Nice, the queen of all winter residences in Europe, are +much finer and more worthy of attention. They begin in January, and the +programme has to be arranged almost exclusively for steeple-chases and +hurdle-races, as flat-racers are not in condition for running at the +time when the season at Nice is at its height. The greater number, and +particularly the best, of the racers have important engagements for the +spring meetings at Paris and at Chantilly, and even in view of really +valuable prizes they could not afford at this time of year to undergo a +complete preparation, which would advance them too rapidly in their +training and would make it impossible to have them in prime condition in +the spring. The race-course at Nice is charmingly situated in the valley +of the Var. The perfume of flowers from numerous beds reaches the +stands, where one may enjoy a magnificent view of mountain and sea, +whilst a good band discourses music in the intervals of the races. Some +of the prizes are important. The Grand Prix de Monaco, for instance, +popularly known as "The Cup", consists of an object of art given by the +prince of Monaco and a purse of twenty thousand francs, without counting +the entrance-stakes. On the second day is run the great hurdle handicap +for seventy-five hundred francs called the Prix de Monte Carlo, and on +the third and last day of the meeting the Grand Prix de Nice, a free +handicap steeple-chase for a purse of ten thousand francs. + +The international pigeon-shooting matches at Monaco, which occur at the +same time, contribute, with the races, to give an extraordinary +animation to this period of the season at Nice. The betting-ring feels +the influence of the proximity of the gaming-tables, where everybody +goes; and yet one could so easily exchange this feverish life of play +for the calmer enjoyments of the capital _cuisine_ of London House and +an after-dinner stroll on the English Promenade or the terraces of Monte +Carlo, in dreamy contemplation of the mountains with their misty grays +and a sea and sky of such heavenly blue. But no: this charming programme +is wantonly rejected: not the finest orchestras, not the prettiest +fêtes, not the newest chansonettes sung by Judie and Jeanne Granier +themselves, can turn the players for a moment from the pursuit of their +one absorbing passion. Play goes on at the Casino of Monte Carlo the +livelong day, the only relaxation from the _couleur gagnante_ or _tiers +et tout_ being when the gamblers step across the way to take a shot at +the pigeons or a bet on the birds; for they must bet on something, if it +is but on the number of the box from which the next victim will fly. And +when in the evening the players have returned to Nice it is only to +indulge the fierce passion again in playing baccarat--the terrible +Parisian baccarat--at the Massena Club or at the Mediterranean, where +the betting is even higher than at Monaco. Hundreds of thousands of +francs change hands every hour from noon to six o'clock in the morning +in this gambling-hell--a hell disguised in the colors of Paradise. + +But let us fly from the perilous neighborhood and reach the nearest +race-course by the fastest train we can find. The passion for the turf +is healthier than the other, and its ends not so much in need of +concealment. Unluckily, we shall not find just at this season--that +is to say, in February--anything going on excepting a few +steeple-chases--some "jumping business," as the English say rather +contemptuously. In England there are certain owners, such as Lord +Lonsdale, Captain Machell, Mr. Brayley and others, who, though well +known in flat-races, have also good hunters in their stables, while the +proprietors of the latter in France confine themselves exclusively to +this specialty. Perhaps the best known amongst them are the baron Jules +Finot and the marquis de St. Sauveur. Most of the members of the Jockey +Club affect to look down upon the "illegitimate" sport, as they call it. +It would seem, however, that this disdain is hardly justifiable, for as +a spectacle at least a steeple-chase is certainly more dramatic and more +interesting than a flat-race. What can be finer than the sight of a +dozen gentlemen or jockeys, as the case may be, charging a brook and +taking it clear in one unbroken line? And yet, despite the attractions +and excitement of the sport, and all the efforts made from time to time +by the Society of Steeple-chases to popularize it in France, it cannot +as yet be called a success. Complaint is made, as in England, of too +short distances, of the insufficiency of the obstacles, of an +overstraining of the pace. The whole thing is coming to partake more and +more of the nature of a race, an essentially different thing. Field +sports are not races--at least they never ought to be. A steeple-chase +can never answer the true purpose of the flat-race, which is to prove +which is the best horse, to the end that he may ultimately reproduce his +like. But nobody ever heard of "a sire calculated to get +steeple-chasers". The cleverness and the special qualities that make a +good steeple-chaser are not transmitted. The best have been horses of +poor appearance, often small and unsightly, that have been given up by +the trainer as incapable of winning in flat-races. In England the +winners of the "Grand National" have had no pedigree to speak of, and +have failed upon the track. Cassetête had run in nineteen races without +gaining a single one before he began his remarkable career as a hunter; +Alcibiade had been employed at Newmarket as a lad's horse; Salamander +was taken out of a cart to win the great steeple-chases at Liverpool and +Warwick. + +In France there is no Liverpool or Croydon or Sandown for +steeple-chases: there is only an Auteuil. The other meetings in the +neighborhood of Paris--Maisons, Le Vésinet, La Marche--are in the hands +of shameless speculators like Dennetier, Oller and the rest. Poor +horses, bought in the selling races and hardly trained at all to their +new business, compete at these places for slender purses, and often with +the help of dishonest tricks. Accidents, as might be expected, are +frequent, although the obstacles, with the exception of the river at La +Marche, are insignificant. But the pace is pushed to such excess that +the smallest fence becomes dangerous. This last objection, however, may +be made even to the running at Auteuil, where the course is under the +judicious and honorable direction of the Society of Steeple-chases. The +pace is quite too severe for such a long stretch, strewn as it is with +no less than twenty-four obstacles, and some of them pretty serious. The +weather, too, is nearly always bad at Auteuil, even at the summer +meetings, and the ill-luck of the Steeple-chase Society in this respect +has become as proverbial as the good-fortune and favoring skies that +smile upon the Société d'Encouragement, its neighbor at Longchamps. It +is not to be wondered at, then, that the English do not feel at home +upon this dangerous track. They have gained but twice the great +international steeple-chase founded in 1874--the first time with Miss +Hungerford in the year just mentioned, and again with Congress in 1877. +This prize, the most important of the steeple-chase purses in France, +amounts to twelve hundred sovereigns, added to a sweepstakes of twenty +sovereigns each, with twelve sovereigns forfeit--or only two sovereigns +if declared by the published time--and is open to horses of four years +old and upward. It is run in the early part of June. Last year, whilst +Wild Monarch, belonging to the marquis de St. Sauveur and ridden by +D'Anson, was winning the race, the splendid stands took fire and were +burned, without the loss of a single life, and even without a serious +accident, thanks to the ample width of the staircases and of the exits. +These stands were the newest and the most comfortable in the country. It +is to be hoped that the society will not allow itself to be discouraged +by such a persistent run of ill-luck, but that it will continue to +pursue its work, the object of which it has declared to be "to +encourage, as far as its resources will permit, the breeding and raising +of horses for service and for the army." As the Encouragement Society +rests upon the Jockey Club, so the Society of Steeple-chases finds its +support in the Cercle of the Rue Royale, commonly called the Little Club +or the Moutard. This club was reorganized after the war under the +direction of the prince de Sagan, and has made great sacrifices to bring +Auteuil into fashion. + +The regular racing-season in France begins on the 15th of March, and no +horse that has appeared upon any public track before this date is +permitted to enter. The first event of the series is the spring meeting +at Rheims--the French Lincoln. Of the six flat-races run here, one, +known as the Derby of the East, is for two-year-olds of the previous +year, with a purse of five thousand francs. In the "Champagne" races the +winner gets, besides his prize, a basket of a hundred bottles of the +sparkling wine instead of the empty "cup" that gives its name to other +famous contests. After Rheims the next meeting in course is at +Longchamps, in the beginning of April, opening with the Prix du Cadran, +twenty-five thousand francs, distance forty-two hundred mètres, for +four-year-olds. Then comes the essay of horses of the year in the Trial +Sweepstakes and the Prix Daru, corresponding with the Two Thousand +Guineas and the Thousand Guineas at Newmarket. The quotation begins to +take shape as the favorites for the great events of May and June stand +out more clearly. Of all the prizes--not excepting even the Grand Prix +de Paris--the one most desired by French turfmen is the French Derby, +or, to call it by its official name, the Prix du Jockey Club, the +crowning event of the May meeting at Chantilly. The conditions of the +Derby are as follows: For colts and fillies of three years, distance +twenty-four hundred mètres, or a mile and a half, fifty thousand francs, +or two thousand pounds sterling, with stakes added of forty pounds for +each horse--twenty-four pounds forfeit, or twenty pounds if declared out +at a fixed date; colts to carry one hundred and twenty-three pounds, and +fillies one hundred and twenty pounds. The purse last year amounted to +£3863 (96,575 francs). Like the English Derby, its French namesake is +regarded as the test and gauge of the quality of the year's production. +In the year of the foundation of this important race (1836), and for the +two succeeding years, it was gained by Lord Henry Seymour's stable, +whose trainer, Th. Carter, and whose stallion, Royal Oak, both brought +from England, were respectively the best trainer and the best stallion +of that time. In 1839, however, the duc d'Orléans's Romulus, foaled at +the Meudon stud, put an end to these victories of the foreigner. In 1840 +the winner was Tontine, belonging to M. Eugène Aumont, but Lord Seymour, +whose horse had come in second, asserted that another horse had been +substituted for Tontine, and that under this name M. Aumont had really +entered the English filly Hérodiade, while the race was open only to +colts foaled and raised in France. A lawsuit was the result, and while +the courts refused to admit Lord Seymour's claim, the racing committee +declared the mare disqualified, and M. Aumont sold his stable. In 1841, +Lord Seymour again gained the Derby with Poetess (by Royal Oak), who +afterward became mother of Heroine and of Monarque and grandmother of +Gladiateur. In 1843 there was a dead heat between M. de Pontalbra's +Renonce and Prospero, belonging to the trainer Th. Carter, and, as often +happens, the worse horse--in this case it was Renonce--won the second +heat. In 1848, the name of "Chantilly" being just then too odious, the +Derby was run at Versailles, and was gained by M. Lupin's Gambetti. This +same year is remarkable in the annals of the French turf for the +excellence of its production. From this period until 1853--the year of +Jouvence--M. Lupin enjoyed a series of almost uninterrupted successes. +In 1855 the Derby was won by the illustrious Monarque, and the following +year witnessed the first appearance upon the turf of the now famous red +and blue of Lagrange. It was Beauvais, belonging to Madame Latache de +Fay, who in 1860 carried off the coveted prize, which was won the next +year by Gabrielle d'Estrées, from the stable of the comte de Lagrange. +Then for a period of nine years the count's stable had a run of +ill-luck, its horses always starting as prime favorites and being as +invariably beaten. This was Trocadéro's fate in 1867. He was a great +favorite, and had, moreover, on this occasion the assistance of his +stable-companion Mongoubert, a horse of first-rate qualities. This time, +at least, the count's backers were sure of success, but the victory that +seemed within their grasp was wrested from their hands by the unexpected +prowess developed upon the field of battle by a newcomer, M. Delamarre's +Patricien. At a distance of two hundred mètres from the goal the three +horses named were alone in the race, and the struggle between them was a +desperate one. It looked almost as if it might turn out a dead heat, +when Patricien, with a tremendous effort, reached the winning-post a +head in advance, after one of the finest and best-contested races ever +seen at Chantilly. In 1869, however, Consul succeeded in turning the +tide of adverse fortune that had set in against the comte de Lagrange, +but it was only for the moment, and it was not until 1878 that he was +again the victor, when he won with Insulaire. He repeated the success +last year with Zut, whom Goater brought in to the winning-post a length +and a half ahead of the field. + +Unfortunately, the winner of the French Derby can hardly ever be in good +condition to contest the great race at Epsom. These two important events +are too near in point of time, and the fatigue of the journey, moreover, +puts the horse that has to make it at a disadvantage. Were it not for +this drawback it is probable that the comte de Lagrange would beat the +English oftener than he does. In May, 1878, his horse Insulaire, having +just come in second in the Two Thousand Guineas at Newmarket, left that +place for home, won the French Derby on Sunday, and returned to England +in time for the Epsom Derby on Wednesday, where he came in second. He +recrossed the Channel, and the following Sunday was second again in the +Grand Prix de Paris, Thurio passing him only by a head. Making the +passage again--and this was his fourth voyage within fifteen days--he +gained the Ascot Derby. It is not unlikely that if this remarkable horse +had remained permanently in the one country or the other he would have +carried off the principal prizes of the turf. + +For the last three or four years the racing men have been in the habit +of meeting, after the Grand Prix de Paris, in the pretty park of La +Marche, between St. Cloud and St. Germain. It is quite a private +gathering, and as elegant as a dashing turnout of some fifteen or twenty +four-in-hands and a pretty luncheon and charming flirtation can make it, +and if dancing has not yet been introduced it soon will be. Prizes in +the shape of groups in bronze and paintings and valuable weapons are +awarded to the gentlemen present who may take part in the hunting +steeple-chase or the race with polo ponies or with hacks. + +In 1878 a new race-course was started at Enghien, to the north of +Paris. The prizes are sufficiently large, the stands comfortable and the +track is good; and these attractions, with the advantage of the +neighborhood of the Chantilly and Morlaye stables, will no doubt make +Enghien a success. Steeple-chases and hurdle-races predominate. + +We can hardly close this review of turf matters in France without at +least a reference to the so-called sporting journals, but what we have +to say of them can be told in two words. They exist only in name. Any +one who buys _Le Sport_, _Le Turf_, _Le Jockey_, _Le Derby_, the _Revue +des Sports,_ etc., on the faith of their titles--nearly all English, be +it observed--will be greatly disappointed if he expects to find in them +anything beyond the mere programmes of the races: they contain no +criticism worthy of the name, no accurate appreciation of the subject +they profess to treat of, and are even devoid of all interesting details +relating to it. Far from following the example of their fellows of +London and New York, these sheets concern themselves neither with +hunting, shooting or fishing, nor with horse-breeding or cattle-raising, +but give us instead the valuable results of their lucubrations upon the +names of the winning horses of the future, and with such sagacity that a +subscriber to one of them has made the calculation that if he had bet +but one louis upon each of the favorites recommended by his paper he +would have lost five hundred louis in the one year of his subscription. + +Let us add, however, that, the press excepted, the English have nothing +more to teach their neighbors in turf matters. The _Pall Mall Gazette_ +has well said that the organization of racing in France has taken a +great deal of what is good from the English turf, and has excluded most +of what is bad. The liberality of the French Jockey Club is declared by +_Vanity Fair_ to be in striking contrast with the starveling policy of +its English namesake. The _Daily Telegraph_ has recently eulogized the +French club for having found out how to rid the turf of the pest of +publicans and speculators and clerks of courses, and of all the riffraff +that encumber and disgrace it in England, and that make parliamentary +intervention necessary. The French turf, in fine, may be said to be +inferior to the English in the number of horses, but its equal in +respect of their quality, while it must be admitted to be superior to it +in the average morality of their owners. + + L. LEJEUNE. + + + + +FROM FAR. + + + Oh, Love, come back, across the weary way + Thou didst go yesterday-- + Dear Love, come back! + + "I am too far upon my way to turn: + Be silent, hearts that yearn + Upon my track." + + Oh, Love! Love! Love! sweet Love! we are undone + If thou indeed be gone + Where lost things are. + + "Beyond the extremest sea's waste light and noise, + As from Ghostland, thy voice + Is borne afar." + + Oh, Love, what was our sin that we should be + Forsaken thus by thee? + So hard a lot! + + "Upon your hearts my hands and lips were set-- + My lips of fire--and yet + Ye knew me not." + + Nay, surely, Love! We knew thee well, sweet Love! + Did we not breathe and move + Within thy light? + + "Ye did reject my thorns who wore my roses: + Now darkness closes + Upon your sight." + + Oh, Love! stern Love! be not implacable: + We loved thee, Love, so well! + Come back to us! + + "To whom, and where, and by what weary way + That I went yesterday, + Shall I come thus?" + + Oh weep, weep, weep! for Love, who tarried long + With many a kiss and song, + Has taken wing. + + No more he lightens in our eyes like fire: + He heeds not our desire, + Or songs we sing. + + PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. + + + + +AMERICANS ABROAD. + + +Five-and-twenty years ago Americans had no cause to be particularly +proud of the manner in which, from a social point of view, their +travelling compatriots were looked upon in Europe. At that epoch we were +still the object of what Mr. Lowell calls a "certain condescension in +foreigners." We were still the recipients at their hands of that certain +half-curious, half-amused and wholly patronizing inspection which, from +the height of their civilization, they might be expected to bestow upon +a novel species of humanity, with manners different from their own, but +recently sprung into existence and notice and disporting itself in their +midst. + +But this sort of thing has had its day. By dint of having been able to +produce, here and there, for the edification of foreigners, a few types +of American manhood and womanhood which came up to the standard of +high-breeding entertained in the Old World, and of having occasionally +dispensed hospitality, both at home and abroad, in a manner which was +unexceptionable, besides having shown other evidences in social +life--not to speak of political life--of being able to hold our own +quite creditably, the "condescension" has gradually diminished in a very +satisfactory manner. It is now no longer kept alive by even the typical +American traveller such as he was when five-and-twenty years ago a +familiar sight at every railway-station, in every steamer and in every +picture-gallery, museum and ruin of every town in Europe. Now-a-days +everybody in America who lays any claim to the right of being called +"somebody," however small a "somebody" it may be, has been to Europe at +least once in his or her life--on a three months' Cook-excursion tour, +if in no other way. And those who have not been have had a father, +mother, brother, sister, or in any case a cousin in some degree, who +has; so that there is always a European trip in the family, so to speak. +The result of all this has naturally been a certain amount of experience +concerning Europe which has tended to wellnigh exterminate the race of +the typically-verdant American traveller. Occasional specimens, with all +their characteristics in full and vigorous development, may still be +met, but these are merely isolated survivors of a once widespread +family. The Americans that one meets to-day in Europe, both those who +travel and those who reside there, are of a different conformation and +belong to a different type. The crudeness which so shocked Europeans in +their predecessors they have, with characteristic adaptability, readily +and gracefully outgrown. But whether they have improved in other +respects, and whether, on other grounds, we have cause to be +particularly proud of our countrymen abroad at the present day, is +another question. + +That Americans are constantly apologizing to foreigners for America, for +its institutions, for its social life, and for themselves as belonging +to it, is a fact which no one ever thinks of disputing. In this faculty +for disparaging our own country we may flatter ourselves that we have no +equals. The Chinese may come near us in their obsequious assurances as +to the utter unworthiness of everything pertaining to them, but with the +difference that they, probably, are inwardly profoundly convinced of the +perfection of all that their idea of courtesy obliges them to abuse, and +mean nothing of what they say; whereas we _do_ mean everything we say. + +The prejudice of the English, and their attempts to transport a +miniature England about with them wherever they go, furnish a frequent +subject of jest to Americans on the Continent. If the total immunity +from any such feeling which characterizes the Americans themselves were +the result of breadth of ideas--if they spoke as they do because they +measured the faults and follies, the merits and advantages, of their +own institutions with as impartial an eye as they would measure those of +other nations, and judged them without either malice or extenuation--we +might then have the privilege of condemning narrow-mindedness +and prejudice. But we have no such breadth of ideas. On the +contrary, we have ourselves--none more so--the strongest sort of +prejudices--prejudices which prevent us as a nation from taking wide, +cosmopolitan views of things. The only difference is that with us the +prejudice, instead of being in favor of everything belonging to our own +country, is, in far too many cases, against it, consequently the most +objectionable, the least excusable, of prejudices. + +It is but rarely that we find a German, a Frenchman, a Spaniard, an +Italian, or a Russian, who even having expatriated himself completely +for one reason or another, and after years of absence, will not have +retained some affection for his native country, some longing for it, +some feeling that it is the best place on earth after all. But among any +number of Americans who have been on European soil for any period of +time, from twenty days to twenty years, those who are burdened with any +such affection, any such longing, any such feeling, might be counted +with ease. Indeed, if through some inconceivable arrangement of human +affairs the Americans abroad were to be prevented from ever returning to +their own country, I imagine the majority would bear the catastrophe +with great equanimity, and, aside from the natural ties of family and +pecuniary interests that might bind them to their home, would think the +permanent life in Europe thus enforced the happiest that Fate could have +bestowed upon them. For my part, I never met but one American who was +anxious to return home--a lady, strange to say--and her chief reason +seemed to be that she missed her pancakes, hot breads, etc. for +breakfast. All the others, men and women, had but one voice to express +how immeasurably more to their taste was everything in Europe--the +climate, the life, the people, the country, the food, the manners, the +institutions, the customs--than anything in America. + +However, all Americans in Europe are not of this class, although it +includes the majority. There is a comparatively small number who are as +much impressed with the perfection of everything American as the most +ardent patriotism could desire. These people go to Europe cased in a +triple armor of self-assertion, prepared to poohpooh everything and +everybody that may come under their notice, and above all to vindicate +under all circumstances their independence as free-born American +citizens by giving the world around them the benefit of their opinions +upon all topics both in and out of season. They stand before a +_chef-d'oeuvre_ of some old master and declare in a loud, aggressive +voice that they see nothing whatever to admire in it, that the +bystanders may know that the judgment of centuries will not weigh with +_them_. They inquire with grim facetiousness, and terrific emphasis on +the pronominal adjectives, "Is _this_ what the people in this part of +the world call a steamboat?" "Do they call that duckpond a lake?" "Is +that stream what they call a river?" And so on, in a perpetual attitude +of protest against everything not so large as their steamboats, their +lakes, their rivers. When this genus of Americans abroad comes together +with the other genus--with the people who think the most wretched daub +that hangs in the most obscure corner of a European gallery, labelled +with prudent indefiniteness "of the school of ----," better far than the +most conscientious work by the most gifted of American artists--and a +discussion arises, as it is sure to do, on the relative merits of Europe +and America, then indeed does Greek meet Greek, and, both starting from +equally false premises and with equally false views, the cross-purposes, +the rabid comparing of things between which no comparison is possible, +the amount of absurd nonsense spoken on either side, and the profound +disdain of one for the other, furnish a great deal of amusement to +Europeans, but make an American who has any self-respect suffer no small +amount of mortification. + +There is but one ground upon which these two classes of Americans meet +in common, and that is in their respect for titles, coronets and +coats-of-arms. It is useless to deny the immense impressiveness which +this sort of thing has for the average American. Of course, if he be of +the aggressive sort he will scout the very idea of any such imputation, +one of the favorite jokes of his tasteful stock in trade being precisely +to express sovereign contempt for anything and everything smacking of +nobility, and to weigh its advantages against the chink of his own +dollars and find it wanting. But this does not in the least alter the +matter. The people who inveigh the most fiercely against the pretensions +of blue blood are generally, the world over, the ones who are devoured +by the most ardent retrospective ambitions for grandfathers and +grandmothers; and the Americans who cry out loudest against the hollow +vanity of the European aristocracy are generally those who have +genealogical trees and coats-of-arms of authenticity more or less +questionable hanging in their back parlor, and think themselves a step +removed from those among their neighbors who boast of no such property. + +It may not be pleasant for us to acknowledge to ourselves that our +countrymen abroad are cankered with toadyism and are frightful snobs; +but so it is, nevertheless. The fact is very visible, veil it as we may. +The American who has not had it forced upon his attention in innumerable +ways--by the undisguised _empressement_ of those among his compatriots +who frankly spend their whole time running after persons with titles, +entertaining them and fawning upon them in every possible manner, no +more than by the intensely American Americans who profess supreme +disregard for all precedence and distinctions established by society, +and yet never fail to let you know, quite accidentally, that Count This, +Baron That and Marquis the Other are their very particular friends--has +had an exceptional experience indeed. + +This manner of disposing of all Americans abroad by putting them into +one of these two categories may seem somewhat sweeping, and it will be +objected that there are hundreds of our countrymen in Europe who could +never come under the head of either. Granted. These hundreds undoubtedly +exist: they are made up of people of superior mind and intelligence, of +people of superior culture, of people who occupy that exceptional social +position which, either through associations of hereditary ease, +refinement, wealth and elegance, or by contact with "the best" of +everything from childhood up, confers on those who belong to it very +much the same outward gloss the world over. But it is never among such +exceptions that the distinctive characteristics of a nation are to be +sought. These are to be looked for in the great mass of the people. Now, +the great mass of Americans who go abroad are people of average minds, +average education, average positions; and that, thus taken as a mass, +they are lamentably lacking both in good taste and dignity, every one +must admit who is in any degree familiar with the American colonies in +the cities of Europe where our countrymen congregate. + +I should perhaps say, to express myself more accurately, "where our +countrywomen congregate;" for, after all, the true representatives of +America in Europe are the American women. Nine-tenths of all the +American colonies consist of mothers who, having left their liege lords +to their stocks and merchandise, have come abroad "for the education of +their children"--an exceedingly elastic as well as convenient formula, +which somehow always makes one think of charity that "covereth a +multitude of sins." Occasionally--once in three or four years +perhaps--the husband leaves his stocks or merchandise for a brief space +of time, crosses the Atlantic and remains with his family a month or +two. Occasionally also he fails to appear altogether. I am not very sure +but that this last course is the one that foreigners expect him to +pursue, and that when he deviates from it it is not rather a surprise to +them. Europeans, I fancy, are somewhat apt to look upon the American +husband as a myth. At all events, it seems to take the experience of +Thomas in many instances to convince them of his material existence. +The American who is content to have his wife and children leave him for +an indefinite period ranging anywhere from one year to ten years, and +during that time enjoy the advantages of life and travel in Europe, +while he himself remains at home absorbed in his business, is a species +of the genus _Homo_ that Europeans are at a loss to comprehend. Being so +rarely seen in the flesh, he necessarily occupies but a secondary +position in their estimation: indeed, I think all American men, those of +the class named no more than those that are more frequently seen abroad, +such as doctors, clergymen, consuls, etc., may be said--some exception +being made for the "leisure class" possessed of four-in-hands and so on, +and an unlimited supply of the world's goods--to be considered by +Europeans of no great significance, socially speaking. It is madame and +mesdemoiselles who are all-important. Monsieur is thought a worthy +person, with some excellent qualities, such as freedom from +uncomfortable jealousies and suspicions, and both capacity and +willingness for furnishing remittances, but a person rather destitute of +polish--invaluable from a domestic point of view, from any other +somewhat uninteresting. But madame and mesdemoiselles have every +possible tribute paid to their charms: their beauty, their wit, their +dash and sparkle, their independence, receive as large a share of +admiration as the most insatiable among them could desire. + +It must be owned that the American spirit, tempered by European +education or influences, makes a very delightful compound. And it is +astonishing to mark how soon the toning process does its work--how soon +the most objectionable American girl of the sort known as "fast," or +even "loud," softens into a very charming creature who makes the +admiration bestowed upon her by European men quite comprehensible. + +That this admiration is returned is perhaps not less comprehensible. +American women, as a mass, are better educated than American men, and +are particularly their superiors so far as outward grace and polish and +the general amenities of life are concerned. These qualities, in which +their countrymen are deficient, and the blander manners which accompany +them, they are apt to find well developed in European men, whatever +other virtues or faults may be theirs; and when to this fact is added +the spice of novelty, the strong liking that American girls manifest for +foreigners, and which has been the cause of putting so many American +youths in anything but a benedictory frame of mind, is easily accounted +for, and the marriages which so frequently take place between our girls +and European men may be explained, even on other grounds than the common +exchange of money on one side and title on the other. + +Be the motive of these marriages either mutual interest or mutual +inclination, in neither case does the generally-accepted theory that +they are never happy bear the test of application. So far as my +knowledge goes, the common experience is quite the reverse. The number +of matches between American girls and Europeans that turn out badly is +small compared to the number of those that are perfectly satisfactory. +It is astonishing to see how many of our girls, who have been brought up +in the belief of the American woman's prerogative of absolute supremacy +in the domestic circle, when they are thus married change and seem quite +content to relinquish not a few of their ideas of perfectly untrammelled +independence, and to take that more subordinate position in matrimony +which European life and customs allot to women. It is still more +astonishing to see how contentedly and cheerfully they do so when +marrying men, as they often do, whose equals in every point, were they +their own countrymen, they would consider decidedly bad _partis_--men +with no advantages of any description, without either position, career +or any visible means of livelihood, often passably destitute of +education and character as well. How they contrive to be satisfied with +their bargain in this case is a puzzle, but satisfied they are. + +Marriages of this sort, where the man has absolutely nothing to offer +beyond the charms of his more or less blandly persuasive person, excite +no surprise abroad. That a penniless male fortune-hunter should marry a +girl with wealth is considered in Europe at the present day not only +just, proper and quite as it should be, but rather _comme il faut_ than +otherwise. Let the case be reversed, and a man of fortune permit himself +the caprice of marrying a portionless girl, and society cries out in +horror against the mésalliance. + +American women in Europe have two chief aims and occupations. The first +is to obtain an _entrée_ into the society of the country in which they +are residing, and to identify themselves with that society: the second +is to revile one another. + +So far as the first aim is concerned, it is certainly most laudable, +taken in one sense: the persons who can live in the midst of a people +without endeavoring to gain an insight into its character and its +customs must be possessed of an exceptionally oyster-like organization +indeed. But the majority of American women seek foreign society on other +grounds than this--chiefly from that tendency to ape everything European +and to decry everything American to which I have already alluded as +being characteristic of us as a nation. England and the English are the +principal models chosen for imitation. It is marvellous to notice the +fondness of American women abroad for the English accent and manner of +speech and way of thinking; how enthusiastically they attend all the +meets in Rome; how plaintively they tell one if one happens to have +arrived quite recently from home, "Really, there is no riding across +country in _your_ America, you know." In the cities of the Continent +that have large English and American colonies they attend the English +church in preference to their own. I believe it is considered more +exclusive to do so, and better form. In this mania for all things +English we are not alone. John Bull happens to be the fashion of the day +quite as much on the continent of Europe as in America, and has quite as +many devoted worshippers there as among us. + +Naturally, one of the chief reasons why American women have so great a +liking for European society is to be found in the fact of the far more +important position that married ladies occupy in that society than they +do with us. For a woman who feels that she has still attractions which +should not be buried in obscurity, but who has found that since her +marriage she has, to all intents and purposes, been "laid upon the +shelf," it is a very delightful experience to see herself once more the +object of solicitous attention, considered as one of the brilliant +central ornaments of a ballroom, not as one of its indispensable +wall-decorations. The experience seems to be so particularly pleasant to +the majority of American women, indeed, that they show the greatest +disinclination to sharing it one with the other--a disinclination made +manifest by that habit of reviling each other which I mentioned as the +second great aim and occupation of our countrywomen abroad. That there +should be very little kindness and fellow-feeling, and a great deal of +envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness among their members, is +characteristic of all foreign colonies in every country; but none +certainly can, in this respect, surpass the American colonies in Europe, +at least in so far as their feminine representatives are concerned. The +extent to which these ladies carry their backbiting and slandering, and +the abnormal growth which their jealousy of one another attains, fill +the masculine mind with amazement. + +A lady of a certain age who had lived in Europe twenty years, and who, +in addition to being a person of great clearness and robustness of +judgment, held a position, as a widow with a comfortable competency, +which made her verdict unassailable by any suspicion of its being an +interested one, spoke to me once on this subject. "In all my experience +of American life in Europe," she said, "I may safely state that I have +never met more than half a dozen American women who had anything but +ill-natured remarks to make of one another. No American woman need hope, +live as she may, do as she may, say what she may, to escape criticism +at the hands of her countrywomen. The mildest manner in which they will +treat her in conversation will be to say that she is 'nobody,' 'never +goes anywhere,' etc., and thus dismiss her. In every other case it is, +'Mrs. A----? Oh yes, such a charming person! Perhaps just a little bit +inclined to put on airs, but then--Oh, a very nice little woman. I don't +suppose she has ever really been accustomed to much, you know. They say +her mother was a dressmaker, but of course one never knows how true +these things may be. She does make frantic efforts to get into society +here: it is quite amusing. I think the Von Z----s have rather taken her +up. She has plenty of money to spend, oh yes. I can't see how her +husband can afford to let her live in the style she does abroad, but +then that is _his_ affair. She entertains all these people, and of +course they go to her house because she can give them some +amusement.'--'Mrs. B----? Do I know anything about her? Well, I think I +do. Nice? Oh, I do not know that there is anything to be said against +her. To be sure, in Paris people _did_ say some rather ugly things. +There was a Count L----. And I heard from a very reliable source that +she was not on exactly good terms with her husband. So, having +daughters, you know, I was obliged to be prudent and rather to shun her +than otherwise. Without wishing to be ill-natured I feel inclined to +advise you to do the same: I think you will find it quite as well to do +so.'--'Mrs. C----? Oh, my dear, such a coarse, common, vulgar creature! +She was never received in any sort of good society in New York. Her +husband made money one fine day, and she has come abroad and is trying +to impose upon people here. She is perfectly ignorant--no education +whatever. And the daughters are horribly _mauvais genre_.'--'Mrs. D----? +I should call her an undesirable acquaintance. Not but what she is a +very nice sort of person--in her way--but she does make up so +frightfully, and she looks so fast. Always has a crowd of officers +dangling about her. Her husband is a stick. They _do_ say that when his +relatives came abroad last winter they would not call upon him. They +were completely incensed at the way in which he permits his wife to +carry on.'--'Mrs. E----? Pray, who is Mrs. E----? and where does she get +the money to live as she does? I knew her a few years ago, when she had +a thousand a year to live on, she and both her children. And now, the +toilettes she makes! And, some people say, the debts! And, really, I +don't see how it can be otherwise, knowing, as I do, that all the +members of her family are as poor as church mice. Her husband committed +suicide, you know.--No! did you never hear that? Oh yes: he was mixed up +in some rather shady transactions in business, and put an end to himself +in that way.'--'Mrs. F----? Oh yes, I remember. An old thing, with a +grown-up son, who dresses as if she were fifteen. Dreadfully affected, +and _so_ silly! Moreover, Mrs. I---- lived in the same house with her in +Dresden--had the apartment above hers--and she told me the servants said +that Mrs. F---- was always in some difficulty with tradespeople.'--'Miss +G----? Is it possible you have never heard about her? Why, she ran away +with a footman, or something of the kind. Was brought back before she +had reached the station, I believe; but you can imagine the scandal! All +the girls in that family are rather queer, which, considering the stock +they come from, is really not very strange,' etc. etc. etc." + +In view of these facts, and of many more of the same nature, when one +sees the people who come back from Europe after an absence of a year or +two unable to speak their own language fluently, because they have heard +and spoken nothing but German or French or Italian during that time, and +who cannot stand the climate because they are not used to it; when one +sees the young ladies who return home unable to take any interest in +American life, and who shut themselves away from its society, which to +them is most unpolished and vapid, because they have had a European +education; when one sees the hundred follies which a glimpse of Europe +will put into the heads of people whom before one had had every reason +to think sensible enough,--one feels inclined to ask one's self the +question, Are we to conclude that European life is demoralizing to +Americans? Are we to conclude that the innumerable advantages that such +a life confers--the wider view and broader knowledge of things, the +softening influences gained by contact with a riper civilization, the +æsthetic tastes developed by acquaintance with older and more perfect +art--are to count as nothing, are to be outweighed by the disadvantages +of the same life? + +Certainly, out of a hundred Americans who go abroad ninety-nine return +with what they have lost in narrowness of experience completely offset +by what they have gained in pretentious affectation. So far from being +improved in any way are they that their well-wishers are inclined to +think it would have been far better had they never gone at all. + +I do not wish to draw the ultimate conclusion from all this that it +would be better for Americans were their periodical exodus to Europe to +cease. Far from it. That cultivated Americans, and Americans +particularly of a more reflective than active mind, should find the +relative ease, culture and simplicity of European life more congenial to +them than the restless, high-pressure life of America, is quite natural. +And if there are no interests or ties to make their presence in their +own country imperatively necessary, it is certainly a matter of option +with them where they take up their abode. There is no law, human or +divine, to bind a person to live in one certain spot when the +surroundings are uncongenial to him, and when no private duty fetters +him to it, for the simple reason that he has chanced to be born there. +Every one is certainly at liberty to seek the centre that best suits him +and answers to his needs. Again, there are numbers of persons who with +moderate means can live according to their taste in Europe when it would +be impossible for them to do so in America on the same amount. There are +a thousand small gratifications that people can afford themselves on a +small income abroad, a thousand small pleasures in life from which in +our country they would be hopelessly debarred; and that they should be +debarred from them when escape is possible, and not only possible but +most simple and easy, would indeed be hard. + +But why cannot Americans indulge this preference for life in Europe, why +can they not avail themselves of the choice if it is open to them, and +yet remember that they _are_ Americans, and that no circumstance can +absolve them from a sacred obligation to show respect for their native +country, and to stand as its citizens on their own dignity? Men and +women may be conscious of faults and weaknesses in their parents, but +they are not expected to expose these weaknesses on that account: +instinctive delicacy in any one but a churl would keep him from +acknowledging any such failings to his own heart. And a similar feeling +should teach us, even if our sympathies were not with our own country, +to treat it in word and deed with respect. Until we do learn to show +this respect before Europeans we must still resign ourselves to the +imputation, if they wish to make it, of crudeness, of being still sadly +in want of refining. + + ALAIN GORE. + + + + +GLIMPSES OF PORTUGAL AND THE PORTUGUESE. + + +[Illustration: Sketch Map of NORTH SPAIN and PORTUGAL.] + +The mere name of Spain calls up at once a string of flashing, barbaric +pictures--Moorish magnificence and Christian chivalry, bull-fights, +boleros, serenades, tattered pride and cruel pleasure. All these things +go to form that piquant whole, half Eastern, half European, which is the +Spain of our imaginations. Our associations with the western part of the +Peninsula are, on the other hand, vague and incomplete. Vasco da Gama, +the earthquake of Lisbon, port wine and Portuguese plums are the +Lusitanian products most readily called to mind. After them would come +perhaps the names of Magellan, of Prince Henry the Navigator and of the +ill-fated Don Sebastian. One poet of the country, Camoens, is as often +referred to as Tasso or Ariosto. Those whose memories go back to the +European events of 1830 and thereabouts may recall the Portuguese civil +wars, the woes of Dona Maria and the dark infamy of Don Miguel. And more +recently have we not heard of the Portuguese _Guide to English +Conversation_ and relished its delicious discoveries in our language? +All these items do not, however, present a very vivid or finished +picture of the country: like the words in a dictionary, they are a +trifle disconnected. + +Portugal was the first station of Childe Harold's pilgrimage, but it +holds no place in the ordinary European tour of to-day. It does not +connect with any of the main lines of travel in such a manner as to +beguile the tourist insensibly over its border: a deliberate start must +be made by steamer from England in order to reach Lisbon from the north. +Another and probably stronger reason for our neglect of its scenery is +that it is not talked of. We go to Europe to see places and follow up +associations with which fame has already made us familiar, and, though +Portugal has had a great past of which the records are still extant, it +has not been brought to our notice by art. + +The two nations living side by side on the Peninsula, though originally +of the same stock and subjected to the same influences, present more +points of difference than of likeness. Their early history is the same. +Hispania and Lusitania both fell successively under the dominion of the +Romans and of the Moors, and were modified to a considerable extent by +the civilization of each. Moorish influence was predominant in +Spain--Portugal retained more deeply the Roman stamp. This is easily +seen in the literature of the two countries. Spanish ballads and plays +show the Eastern delight in hyperbole, the Eastern fertility of +invention: Portuguese literature is completely classic in spirit, +avoiding all exaggeration, all offences against taste, and confining +itself to classic forms, such as the pastoral, the epic and the sonnet. +Many Moorish customs survive in Portugal to this day, but they have not +become so closely assimilated there as in Spain to the character of the +people. The cruelty which has always marked the Spanish race is no part +of the Portuguese national character, which is conspicuous rather for +the "gentler-sexed humanity." True, the bull-fight, that barbarous +legacy of the Moors, still lingers among the Portuguese, but the sport +is pursued with no such wanton intoxication of cruelty as in the country +with which its name is now associated. On the other hand, the Roman +tradition has been preserved in Portugal more perfectly than in Italy +itself: in the "fairest of Roman colonies," as it was once called, there +will be found manners and customs which bring up more vividly the life +portrayed by the classic poets than any existing among the peasants of +modern Italy. + +[Illustration: ANCIENT HOUSE IN OPORTO.] + +Both Rome and Arabia stood sponsors for the land they thus endowed. The +name _Portugal_ is compounded of the Latin _portus_, a "port," and the +Arabic _caläh_, a "castle" or "fortress." The first of these names was +originally given to the town which still retains it--Oporto--one of the +oldest of Portugal, and at one time its capital. + +The history of Portugal, when it separates from that of Spain, is the +history of a single stupendous achievement. A small nation raising +itself in a short time to the power of a great empire, reaching a height +which to gain was incredible, to keep impossible, and at the first +relaxation of effort suddenly falling with a disastrous crash,--that is +the drama of Portugal's greatness. There was no gradual rise or decline: +it mounted and fell. There is a tradition that the first king of +Portugal, Affonso Henriquez, was crowned on the battlefield with a burst +of enthusiasm on the part of the soldiers whom he was leading against +the Saracens, and that on the same day he opened his reign by the +glorious victory of Ourique. Less than half a century previously the +country had been given as a fief to a young knight, Count Henry of +Burgundy, on his marriage with a daughter of the king of Castile. The +Moors were overrunning it on the one hand, Castile was eying it +jealously on the other, yet Affonso Henriquez made it an independent and +permanent kingdom. This prince slaughtered Saracens and carried off +honors on the field as fast as the Cid, but his deeds were not embalmed +in an epic destined to become a storehouse of poetry for all the world. +His chronicler did not come till about four centuries later, and then +nearer and vaster achievements than those of Affonso Henriquez lay +ready to his pen. At the birth of Camoens, in 1525, Portugal had gained +her greatest conquests, and, if the shadows were already falling across +her power, she had still great men who were making heroic efforts to +retain it. Vasco da Gama had died within the year. Albuquerque, the hero +of the _Lusiado_, the noblest and most far-sighted mind in an age of +great men, had been dead ten years. Camoens, like the Greek dramatists, +was soldier as well as poet: he was not alone the singer of past +adventures--he was the reporter of what took place under his own eyes. +His epic was already finished before the defeat of Don Sebastian in the +battle of Alcazar put an end to the glory it celebrated, and in dying +shortly after the poet is said to have breathed a prayer of thanksgiving +at being spared the pain of surviving his country. + +[Illustration: CHAPEL NEAR GUIMARAENS.] + +The period of Portuguese supremacy lasted then, altogether, less than a +century. There is an irresistible temptation to ponder over what results +were lost by its sudden downfall, and to seek therein some explanation +of the strange fact that Portugal alone among the southern nations of +Europe has never had a national art. There was a moment when the +foundations for it seemed to be laid: it was the period at which early +Spanish art was putting forth its first efforts, while that of Italy was +in its prime. Under Emanuel the Fortunate and his successor Portugal was +rich and powerful. Its intellect and ambition had been stimulated by the +achievements of its great navigators. There was an awakening of interest +in art and letters. A school of poets had arisen of which Camoens was to +be the crown. The court, mindful of the duties of patronage, was +building new churches and convents and decorating the old ones with +religious pictures, and in Portugal religious feeling has always been +peculiarly strong. Many of these pictures are still preserved. They are +not, however, of a high order of merit, and it is not even certain that +they are the work of native artists, some authorities inclining to the +belief that they were done by inferior Flemish painters visiting the +country, and are therefore the lees of the Flemish school, not the +flower of a national one. Universal belief among the Portuguese +attributes them to Gran Vasco, a master whose very existence is +mythical, and who if he had lived several lives could not have painted +all the works of various styles which are ascribed to him. That the +artistic sense was not lacking in the Portuguese people is abundantly +shown in their architecture, in their repoussé-work of the fifteenth +century and the carvings in wood and stone. The church and convent at +Belem, the work of this period, are ornamented by Gothic stone-work of +exquisite richness and fertility of invention. The church is unfinished, +like the epoch it commemorates. To an age of activity and conquest +succeeded one of gloom and depression. The last of the kings whom the +nation had leaned on, while it supported them so loyally, had fallen at +Alcazar, and in the struggle which ensued for the succession Portugal +fell an easy prey to the strongest claimant. Philip II. strengthened his +claim to the vacant throne by sending an army of twenty thousand men +into the country under the command of the duke of Alva, and the other +heirs were too weak or too divided to oppose him. The discoveries and +conquests made by Portugal had laid the foundations of riches and power +for other nations: her own immediate benefit from them was over. The +period of prosperous repose which may be expected to follow one of great +national activity was denied to her. When the house of Braganza +recovered its rights, the impulse to creative art was extinct. + +[Illustration: CLOISTERS OF BELEM CONVENT.] + +Though it was as a maritime power that Portugal rose to its greatest +height, it has been from time immemorial an agricultural nation, and the +mass of its people are engaged in tilling the soil. They are a cheerful, +industrious race, who, far from meriting Lord Byron's contemptuous +epithet of "Lusitanian boors," are gifted with a natural courtesy and +refinement of manner. A New-England farmer would be tempted to follow +the poet's example and regard them with contempt: weighed in his +balance, they would certainly be found wanting. There is no +public-school system in operation, and the Portuguese farmer is not +likely to be able to read or sign his name. But the want of literature +is not felt in a Southern country, where social intercourse is far more +cultivated than in our own rural districts. It is not by reading the +newspapers, but by talking matters over with his neighbor, that the +Portuguese farmer obtains his sound and intelligent views on the +politics of his country. He is a great talker, taking a keen interest in +all that goes on, enjoying a joke thoroughly and addressing his comrade +with all the ceremonies and distinctions of a language which contains +half a dozen different forms of address. The illiterate peasant is no +whit behind the man of culture in the purity of his Portuguese. In no +country in Europe is the language kept freer from dialect, and this +notwithstanding the fact that it is one of involved grammatical forms. +In France the use of the imperfect subjunctive is given up by the lower +classes and by foreigners, but in Portugal the peasant has still deeper +subtleties of speech at the end of his tongue. Add to this that he has a +vocabulary of abuse before which the Spaniard or the California +mule-driver would be silenced, and you have the extent of his linguistic +accomplishments. This profane eloquence was an art imparted no doubt by +the Moors. The refinements of syntax come from the Latin, to which +Portuguese bears more affinity in form than any other modern language. + +From the Romans the Lusitanian received his first lessons in +agriculture--lessons which have never been entirely superseded. His +plough was given him by the Romans, and he has not yet seen fit to alter +the pattern. The ox-cart used in town and country for all purposes of +draught is another relic preserved intact. Its wheels of solid wood are +fastened to the axle, which revolves with them, this revolution being +accompanied by a chorus of inharmonious shrieks and creaks and wails +which to the foreign and prejudiced nerve is simply agonizing. Its +master hears it with a different ear: he finds it rather cheerful than +otherwise, good to enliven the oxen, to dispel the silence of lonely +places and to frighten away wolves and bogies, of which enemies he has a +childish awe. Instead, therefore, of pouring oil upon this discord, he +applies lemon-juice to aggravate the sound! The cart pleases the eye of +the stranger more than his ear. When in the vintage season the upright +poles forming its sides are bound together by a wickerwork of vine +branches with their large leaves, and the inside is heaped with purple +grapes, it is a goodly sight, and one which Alma-Tadema might paint as a +Roman vintage, for it is doubtless a counterfeit presentment of the +grape-laden wains which moved in the season of vintage over the +Campagna. The results in both cases were the same, for the _vinho +verde_, a harsh but refreshing wine, made and drunk by the +country-people, is made in the same way and is probably identical with +that wherewith the Latin farmer slaked his thirst. The recipe may have +descended through Lusus, the companion of Bacchus, whom tradition names +as the father of the Lusitanian. Be that as it may, the Portuguese is +still favored of the wine-god. Wine flows for him even more freely than +water, which gift of Nature has to be dug for and sought far and wide. +He drinks the ruby liquid at home and carries it afield: he even shares +it with his horse, who sinks his nose, nothing loth, in its inviting +depths, and neither man nor beast shows any ill effects from this +indulgence. + +[Illustration: A MADEIRA FISHERMAN.] + +It is in the north-western corner of the country, in the Minho +province, that the highest rural prosperity is to be met with. This +little province, scarcely as large as the State of Delaware, but with +more than four times its population, has successfully solved the problem +of affording labor and sustenance in nearly equal shares to a large +number of inhabitants. Bonanza-farming is unheard of there. The high +perfection of its culture, which gives the whole province the trim, +thriving air of a well-kept garden, comes from individual labor minutely +bestowed on small surfaces. No mowing-, threshing- or other machines are +used. Instead of labor-saving, there is labor cheerfully expended--in +the place of the patent mower, a patient toiler (often of the fair sex), +armed with a short, curved reaping-hook. The very water, which flows +plentifully in fountains and channels, comes not direct from heaven +without the aid of man. It is coaxed down from the hills in tedious +miles of aqueduct or forced up from a great depth by a rustic +water-wheel worked by oxen, and is then distributed over the land. +Except for its aridity, the climate is kind to the small farmer: there +is no long inactivity forced upon him by a cold winter. A constant +succession of crops may be raised, and all through the year he works +cheerfully and industriously, finding his ten acres enough and his +curious broad hoe dexterously wielded the equivalent of shovel and +pickaxe. If ignorant of our inventions, he is intimately acquainted with +some American products. If a Yankee were to walk into a Portuguese +farm-house and surprise the family at dinner, he would be sure to see on +the table two articles which, however oddly served, would be in their +essentials familiar to him--Indian meal and salt codfish. Indian corn +has long been cultivated as the principal grain: it is mixed with rye to +make the bread in every-day use. The Newfoundland cod, under the name of +_bacalhau_, has crept far into the affections of the nation, its lack of +succulence being atoned for by a rich infusion of olive oil, so that the +native beef, cheap and good as it is, has no chance in comparison. +Altogether, the Portuguese peasant with his wine, his oil and his +bacalhau fares better than most of his class. At Christmas-tide he +stakes his digestion on _rebanadas_, a Moorish invention--nothing less +than ambrosial flapjacks made by soaking huge slices of wheaten bread in +new milk, frying them in olive oil and then spreading them lavishly with +honey. + +The Portuguese can be industrious, but all work and no play is a scheme +of life which would ill accord with his social, pleasure-loving +temperament. With a wisdom rare in his day and generation, and an energy +unparalleled among Southern races, he manages to combine the two. After +rising at dawn and working from twelve to fifteen hours, he does not sit +down and fall asleep, but slings a guitar over his shoulder and is off +to the nearest threshing-floor to dance a _bolero_. His dancing is not +the more graceful for coming after hours of field-labor, but it lacks +neither activity nor picturesqueness: above all, it is the outcome of +light-heartedness and enjoyment in capering. The night air, soft yet +cool, is refreshing after the intense heat of the day: the too sudden +lowering of temperature at sundown which makes the evenings unhealthy in +many Southern countries is not experienced in Portugal. Every peasant +has his guitar, for a love of music is widely diffused, and some of them +not only sing but improvise. In the province of the Minho it is not +uncommon at these gatherings for a match of improvisation to be held +between two rustic bards. One takes his guitar, and in a slow, drawling +recitative sings a simple quatrain, which the other at once caps with a +second in rhyme and rhythm matching the first. Verse follows verse in +steady succession, and the singer who hesitates is lost: his rival +rushes in with a tide of rhyme which carries all before it. In such +primitive pleasures the shepherds of the Virgilian eclogue indulged. + +As the life of the peasant, so is that of his wife or sweetheart. She +shares in the work, guiding the oxen, cutting grass, even working on the +road with hoe and basket. "Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound." +Like Wordsworth's reaper, she sings as she works, and the day's labor +over is ready to join in the bolero. On fête-days she is arrayed in all +the magnificence of her peasant ornaments, worth, if her family is +well-to-do, a hundred dollars or more--gold pendants in her ears, large +gold chains of some antique Moorish design falling in a triple row over +her gay bodice. The men wear long hooded cloaks of brown homespun, which +they sometimes retain for convenience after the rest of the +peasant-dress has been thrown aside for the regulation coat and +trousers. There is no tendency to eccentricity in the national costume +of Portugal, but the Portuguese colony of Madeira have invented a +singular head-gear in a tiny skull-cap surmounted by a steeple of +tightly-wound cloth, which serves as a handle to lift it by. Like the +German student's cap, it requires practice to make it adhere at the +required angle. This is a bit of coxcombry which has no match in the +simple, unaffected vanity of the Portuguese. + +[Illustration: COUNTRY-HOUSE IN PORTUGAL.] + +The country is left during the greater part of the year to the exclusive +occupancy of the peasantry, the town atmosphere being more congenial in +the long run to the social gentry of Portugal. The wealthy class in +Lisbon have their villas at Cintra, in which paradise of Nature and art, +with its wonderful ensemble of precipices and palaces, forest and garden +scenes, they can enjoy mountains without forsaking society. Many Oporto +families own country-houses in the Minho, and rusticate there very +pleasantly for a month or two in early fall. The gentlemen have large +shooting-parties, conducted on widely-different principles from those so +unswervingly adhered to by Trollope's indefatigable sporting character, +Mr. Reginald Dobbs. In a Portuguese shooting the number of men and dogs +is often totally disproportionate to that of the game, and a single +partridge may find itself the centre of an alarming volley from a dozen +or more guns. The enjoyment is not measured, however, by the success. +There is a great deal of talking and laughing, and no discontent with +the day's sport is exhibited even if there be little to show for the +skill and patience expended. There is further occupation in +superintending vintage and harvest, while the orange-groves and +luxuriant gardens offer plenty of resources for exercise or idleness. +Plant-life in Portugal is singularly varied even for so warm a country. +To the native orange, olive and other trees of Southern Europe have been +added many exotics. The large magnolia of our Southern States, the +Japanese camellia and the Australian gum tree have made themselves at +home there, and grow as if their roots were in their native soil. +Geraniums and heliotrope, which we confine easily in flower-pots, assume +a different aspect in the public gardens of Lisbon, where the former is +seen in flaming trees and hedges twenty or thirty feet high, and the +latter distributes its fragrance while covering the high walls with its +spreading arms. + +The grapes from which port-wine is made are all grown within the narrow +compass of a mountain-valley about twenty-seven miles long by five or +six wide, where the conditions of soil and climate most favorable to +wine-culture--including a large degree of both heat and cold--are found +in perfection. Owing to its elevation the frosts in this district are +tolerably severe, while in summer the sun looks steadily down with his +hot glance into the valley till its vine-clad sides are permeated by +heat. The grapes ripened there are of peculiar richness and strength. +The trade is all in the hands of a certain number of English merchants +at Oporto, who buy the grapes as they hang of the native farmers and +have the wine made under their own supervision. The wine-making is +conducted in much the same manner as in other countries, a certain +quantity of spirits being added to arrest decay and ensure its +preservation. All wine has passed through the first stage of decay, +fermentation, and is liable at any time to continue the course. It may +be made with little or no alcohol if it is to be drunk within the year: +to ensure a longer lease of life some antiseptic is necessary. Port is, +from its richness, peculiarly liable to decay, and will stand +fortification better than sherry, which being a light wine is less in +need of it and more apt to be over-fortified. The area in which port is +produced being so small, there can be no material difference in the +produce of different vineyards, but some slight superiorities of soil or +aspect have given the Vesuvio, the Raïda and a few other wines a special +reputation. + +The history of port is a somewhat curious one. It is associated closely +with the old English gentleman of a bygone generation, a staunch and +bigoted being who despised French wines as he abhorred the French +nation, and agreed with Doctor Johnson that claret was for boys, port +for men. The vintage of 1820 was a remarkable one in Portugal. The port +made in that season was of a peculiar strength and sweetness, in color +nearly black. The old English gentleman would acknowledge no other as +genuine, and, as Nature positively refused to repeat the experiment, the +practice of dyeing port with dried elderberries and increasing the +infusion of brandy to impart strength and flavor was resorted to. It was +successful for some time, but after a while the secret oozed out, and +the public began to receive the garnet-hued liquid again into favor, and +to find, with Douglas Jerrold, that it preferred the old port to the +_elder_. The elderberry is not sufficiently common in Portugal to make +the continuation of this process popular with wine-makers. At present +port is tolerably free from adulteration, though its casks and those of +an inferior red wine of Spain after voyaging to England sometimes find +their contents a little mixed. + +Oporto is the seat of the wine-trade, and its huge warehouses are filled +with stores of port ripening to a good old age, when the garnet will be +exchanged for a dark umber tint. A handsome, thriving city is Oporto, +mounting in terraces up the slope of a steep hill. A fine quay runs the +length of the town along the Douro, and here the active life of Oporto +is mainly concentrated. Any stranger watching this stir of movement and +color will be struck by the prominent position which women fill in the +busy crowd. The men do not absorb all branches of labor. Besides the +water-carriers, market-women and fruit-vendors there may be seen +straight, stalwart lasses acting as portresses to convey loads to and +from the boats which are fastened to the river-wall. Many of the +servants and other laborers through Portugal come from Galicia, the +inhabitants of that Spanish province enjoying a reputation for honesty +and faithful service combined with stupidity. + +[Illustration: QUAY AT OPORTO--THE QUEEN'S STAIRS.] + +A sad contrast to the fertility of the Minho is presented by the +country opposite Lisbon and the adjoining province of Alemtejo. This +Portuguese _campagna_ was in Roman days a fertile plain covered with +golden wheat-fields. Now it is a barren, melancholy waste, producing +only ruins. It is in and about this region that the most important Roman +remains in the country are to be found. The soil in the neighborhood of +Evora is rich in coins and other relics, and Evora has, besides its +great aqueduct, the massive pillars of a temple to Diana, which, sad to +say, was once put to ignoble use as a slaughter-house. The ruins of +Troia have escaped desecration, if they have not obtained the care and +study which they merit. Lying on a low tongue of land which projects +into the bay of Setubal, the city of Troia is buried, not in Pompeian +lava, but in deep mounds of sand, accumulated there by the winds and +waves. A tremendous storm in 1814 washed away a part of this sand and +revealed something of its treasure, but it was not till 1850 that the +hint was followed up by antiquaries and a regular digging made. A large +Roman house was uncovered, together with a vast débris of marble +columns, mosaic pavements, baths, urns, and other appurtenances of Roman +existence. The excavations have been far from thorough; the peninsular +Troy still awaits its Schliemann. The name Troia was probably bestowed +by Portuguese antiquaries of the Renaissance period, who mention it thus +in their writings. According to Roman records, the city flourished about +300 A.D. as Cetobriga. + +[Illustration: Sketch Map of SETUBAL and RUINS OF TROIA.] + +We must return to the Minho province--still the most representative +section of Portugal--for monuments of Portuguese antiquity. Guimaraens +is the oldest town of purely native growth, and is closely associated +with the life of Affonso Henriquez. The massive castle in which he was +born, and the church which witnessed the christening of the first king +of Portugal, are still standing: the old walls of the town date back to +the time of the hero; and not far off is the field where he fought the +battle which gained him his independence at eighteen. Within a few miles +of Guimaraens is Braga, celebrated for centuries as a stronghold of the +Church. Its Gothic cathedral is of grand proportions, containing a +triple nave, and belongs to the thirteenth century. The church treasures +shut up in its sanctuary are among the richest in the Peninsula. + +Portugal presents the curious spectacle of a country in which the +customs of antiquity have lasted as long as its monuments. In a certain +way the former are the more impressive. As some little familiar trait +will sometimes give a fresher insight into a great man than the more +important facts of his biography, so the ploughing, harvesting and +singing of a Portuguese peasant, with their bucolic simplicity, bring +the life of the ancients a little nearer to us than the sight of their +great aqueducts and columns. But the nineteenth century is striking the +death-blow of the bucolic very fast, the world over, and Portugal is +awake and bestirring herself--not the less effectively that she is +making no noise about it. Nevertheless, she is becoming better known. +Mr. Oswald Crawfurd, the English consul at Oporto, who has lived in +Portugal for many years, is writing about it from the best point of +view, half within, half without. His book of travels published under the +pseudonym of Latouche, and a volume entitled _Portugal, Old and New_, +recently issued under his own name, throw a strong, clear light upon the +country and its inhabitants. Another sympathetic and entertaining +traveller is Lady Jackson, the author of _Fair Lusitania_. + +[Illustration: CHURCH PLATE IN BRAGA CATHEDRAL.] + +The Portugal of Mr. Crawfurd and Lady Jackson is a different land from +that which Southey, Byron and other English celebrities visited at the +beginning of this century: it is not the same which Wordsworth's +daughter, Mrs. Quillinan, travelled through on horseback in 1837, making +light of inconveniences and looking at everything with kind, frank eyes. +Lisbon is no longer a beautiful casket filled with dirt and filth, but a +clean, bright and active city, and Portugal is no longer a sleeping +land, but a well-governed country, which will probably be hindered by +its small natural proportions, but not by any sluggishness or incapacity +of its people, from taking a high place among European nations. + + + + +A GRAVEYARD IDYL. + + +In the summer of 187-, when young Doctor Putnam was recovering from an +attack of typhoid fever, he used to take short walks in the suburbs of +the little provincial town where he lived. He was still weak enough to +need a cane, and had to sit down now and then to rest. His favorite +haunt was an old-fashioned cemetery lying at the western edge of the +alluvial terrace on which the town is built. The steep hillside abuts +boldly on the salt marsh. One of the cemetery-paths runs along the brink +of the hill; and here, on a wooden bench under a clump of red cedars, +Putnam would sit for hours enjoying the listless mood of convalescence. +Where the will remains passive, the mind, like an idle weathercock, +turns to every puff of suggestion, and the senses, born new from +sickness, have the freshness and delicacy of a child's. It soothed his +eye to follow lazily the undulations of the creek, lying like the folds +of a blue silk ribbon on the flat ground of the marsh below. He watched +the ebbing tide suck down the water from the even lines of trenches that +sluiced the meadows till the black mud at their bottom glistened in the +sun. The opposite hills were dark with the heavy foliage of July. In the +distance a sail or two speckled the flashing waters of the bay, and the +lighthouse beyond bounded the southern horizon. + +It was a quiet, shady old cemetery, not much disturbed by funerals. Only +at rare intervals a fresh heap of earth and a slab of clean marble +intruded with their tale of a new and clamorous grief among the sunken +mounds and weatherstained tombstones of the ancient sleepers for whom +the tears had long been dried. Now and then a mourner came to put +flowers on a grave; now and then one of the two or three laborers who +kept the walks and shrubberies in order would come along the path by +Putnam's bench, trundling a squeaking wheelbarrow; sometimes a nurse +with a baby-carriage found her way in. But generally the only sounds to +break the quiet were the songs of birds, the rumble of a wagon over the +spile bridge across the creek and the whetting of scythes in the +water-meadows, where the mowers, in boots up to their waists, went +shearing the oozy plain and stacking up the salt hay. + +One afternoon Putnam was in his accustomed seat, whistling softly to +himself and cutting his initials into the edge of the bench. The air was +breathless, and the sunshine lay so hot on the marshes that it seemed to +draw up in a visible steam a briny incense which mingled with the spicy +smell of the red cedars. Absorbed in reverie, he failed to notice how +the scattered clouds that had been passing across the sky all the +afternoon were being gradually reinforced by big fluffy cumuli rolling +up from the north, until a rumble overhead and the rustle of a shower in +the trees aroused him. + +In the centre of the grounds was an ancient summer-house standing amidst +a maze of flower-beds intersected by gravel-walks. This was the nearest +shelter, and, as the rain began to patter smartly, Putnam pocketed his +knife, turned up his coat-collar and ran for it. Arrived at the +garden-house, he found there a group of three persons, driven to harbor +from different parts of the cemetery. The shower increased to a storm, +the lattices were lashed by the rain and a steady stream poured from the +eaves. The althæa and snowberry bushes in the flower-pots, and even the +stunted box-edges along the paths, swayed in the wind. It grew quite +dark in the summer-house, shaded by two or three old hemlocks, and it +was only by the lightning-flashes that Putnam could make out the +features of the little company of refugees. They stood in the middle of +the building, to avoid the sheets of rain blown in at the doors in +gusts, huddling around a pump that was raised on a narrow stone +platform--not unlike the daughters of Priam clustered about the great +altar in the penetralia: Præcipites atra ceu tempestate columbæ. + +They consisted of a young girl, an elderly woman with a trowel and +watering-pot, and a workman in overalls, who carried a spade and had +perhaps been interrupted in digging a grave. The platform around the +pump hardly gave standing room for a fourth. Putnam accordingly took his +seat on a tool-chest near one of the entrances, and, while the soft +spray blew through the lattices over his face and clothes, he watched +the effect of the lightning-flashes on the tossing, dripping trees of +the cemetery-grounds. + +Soon a shout was heard and down one of the gravel-walks, now a miniature +river, rushed a Newfoundland dog, followed by a second man in overalls. +Both reached shelter soaked and lively. The dog distributed the contents +of his fur over our party by the pump, nosed inquiringly about, and then +subsided into a corner. Second laborer exchanged a few words with first +laborer, and melted into the general silence. The slight flurry caused +by their arrival was only momentary, while outside the storm rose higher +and inside it grew still darker. Now and then some one said something in +a low tone, addressed rather to himself than to the others, and lost in +the noise of the thunder and rain. + +But in spite of the silence there seemed to grow up out of the situation +a feeling of intimacy between the members of the little community in the +summer-house. The need of shelter--one of the primitive needs of +humanity--had brought them naturally together and shut them up "in a +tumultuous privacy of storm." In a few minutes, when the shower should +leave off, their paths would again diverge, but for the time being they +were inmates and held a household relation to one another. + +And so it came to pass that when it began to grow lighter and the rain +stopped, and the sun glanced out again on the reeking earth and +saturated foliage, conversation grew general. + +"Gracious sakes!" said the woman with the trowel and watering-pot as +she glanced along the winding canals that led out from the +summer-house--"jest see the water in them walks!" + +"Gol! 'tis awful!" murmured the Irishman with the spade. "There'll be a +fut of water in the grave, and the ould mon to be buried the morning!" + +"Ah, they had a right to put off the funeral," said the other workman, +"and not be giving the poor corp his death of cold." + +"'Tis warrum enough there where the ould mon's gone, but 'tis cold +working for a poor lad like mesilf in the bottom of a wet grave. Gol! +'tis like a dreen." With that he shouldered his spade and waded +reluctantly away. + +Second laborer paused to light his dhudeen, and then disappeared in the +opposite direction, his Newfoundland taking quite naturally to the +deepest puddles in their course. + +"Hath this fellow no feeling of his business?" asked Putnam, rising and +sauntering up to the pump. The question was meant more for the younger +than the elder of the two women, but the former paid no heed to it, and +the latter, by way of answer, merely glanced at him suspiciously and +said "H'm!" She was unlocking the tool-chest on which he had been +sitting, and now raised the lid, stowed away her trowel and +watering-pot, locked the chest again and put the key in her pocket, with +the remark, "I guess I hain't got any more use for a sprinkle-pot +to-day." + +"It is rather _de trop_," said Putnam. + +The old woman looked at him still more distrustfully, and then, drawing +up her skirts, showed to his great astonishment a pair of india-rubber +boots, in which she stumped away through the water and the mud, leaving +in the latter colossal tracks which speedily became as pond-holes in the +shallower bed of the stream. The younger woman stood at the door, +gathering her dress about her ankles and gazing irresolutely at these +frightful _vestigia_ which gauged all too accurately the depth of the +mud and the surface-water above it. + +"They look like the fossil bird-tracks in the Connecticut Valley +sandstone," said Putnam, following the direction of her eyes. + +These were very large and black. She turned them slowly on the speaker, +a tallish young fellow with a face expressive chiefly of a good-natured +audacity and an alertness for whatever in the way of amusement might +come within range. Her look rested on him indifferently, and then turned +back to the wet gravel. + +Putnam studied for a moment the back of her head and her figure, which +was girlishly slender and clad in gray. "How extraordinary," he resumed, +"that she should happen to have rubber boots on!" + +"She keeps them in the tool-chest. The cemetery-man gives her a key," +she replied after a pause, and as if reluctantly. Her voice was very low +and she had the air of talking to herself. + +"Isn't that a rather queer place for a wardrobe? I wonder if she keeps +anything else there besides the boots and the trowel and the +'sprinkle-pot'?" + +"I believe she has an umbrella and some flower-seeds." + +"Now, if she only had a Swedish cooking-box and a patent camp-lounge," +said Putnam laughing, "she could keep house here in regular style." + +"She spends a great deal of time here: her children are all here, she +told me." + +"Well, it's an odd taste to live in a burying-ground, but one might do +worse perhaps. There's nothing like getting accustomed gradually to what +you've got to come to. And then if one must select a cemetery for a +residence, this isn't a bad choice. Have you noticed what quaint old +ways they have about it? At sunset the sexton rings a big bell that +hangs in the arch over the gateway: he told me he had done it every day +for twenty years. It's not done, I believe, on the principle of firing a +sunset gun, but to let people walking in the grounds know the gate is to +be shut. There's a high stone wall, you know, and somebody might get +shut in all night. Think of having to spend the night here!" + +"I have spent the night here often," she answered, again in an absent +voice and as if murmuring to herself. + +"_You_ have?" exclaimed Putnam. "Oh, you slept in the tool-chest, I +suppose, on the old lady's shake-down." + +She was silent, and he began to have a weird suspicion that she had +spoken in earnest. "This is getting interesting," he said to himself; +and then aloud, "You must have seen queer sights. Of course, when the +clock struck twelve all the ghosts popped out and sat on their +respective tombstones. The ghosts in this cemetery must be awfully old +fellows. It doesn't look as if they had buried any one here for a +hundred and thirty-five years. I've often thought it would be a good +idea to inscribe _Complet_ over the gate, as they do on a Paris +omnibus." + +"You speak very lightly of the dead," said the young girl in a tone of +displeasure and looking directly at him. + +Putnam felt badly snubbed. He was about to attempt an explanation, but +her manner indicated that she considered the conversation at an end. She +gathered up her skirts and prepared to leave the summer-house. The water +had soaked away somewhat into the gravel. + +"Excuse me," said Putnam, advancing desperately and touching his hat, +"but I notice that your shoes are thin and the ground is still very wet. +I'm going right over to High street, and if I can send you a carriage or +anything--" + +"Thank you, no: I sha'n't need it;" and she stepped off hastily down the +walk. + +Putnam looked after her till a winding of the path took her out of +sight, and then started slowly homeward. "What the deuce could she +mean," he pondered as he walked along, "about spending the night in the +cemetery? Can she--no she can't--be the gatekeeper's daughter and live +in the gate-house? Anyway, she's mighty pretty." + +His mother and his maiden aunt, who with himself made up the entire +household, received him with small scoldings and twitterings of anxiety. +They felt his wet clothes, prophesied a return of his fever and forced +him to go immediately to bed, where they administered hot drinks and +toast soaked in scalded milk. He lay awake a long time, somewhat +fatigued and excited. In his feeble condition and in the monotony which +his life had assumed of late the trifling experience of the afternoon +took on the full proportions of an adventure. He thought it over again +and again, but finally fell asleep and slept soundly. He awoke once, +just at dawn, and lay looking through his window at a rosy cloud which +reposed upon an infinite depth of sky, motionless as if sculptured +against the blue. A light morning wind stirred the curtains and the +scent of mignonette floated in from the dewy garden. He had that +confused sense of anticipation so common in moments between waking and +sleeping, when some new, pleasant thing has happened, or is to happen on +the morrow, which the memory is too drowsy to present distinctly. Of +this pleasant, indistinct promise that auroral cloud seemed somehow the +omen or symbol, and watching it he fell asleep again. When he next awoke +the sunlight of mid-forenoon was flooding the chamber, and he heard his +mother's voice below stairs as she sat at her sewing. + +In the afternoon he started on his customary walk, and his feet led him +involuntarily to the cemetery. As he traversed the path along the edge +of the hill he saw in one of the grave-lots the heroine of his +yesterday's encounter, and a sudden light broke in on him: she was a +mourner. And yet how happened it that she wore no black? There was a +wooden railing round the enclosure, and within it a single mound and a +tombstone of fresh marble. A few cut flowers lay on the grave. She was +sitting in a low wicker chair, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes +fixed vacantly on the western hills. Putnam now took closer note of her +face. It was of a brown paleness. The air of hauteur given it by the +purity of the profile and the almost insolent stare of the large black +eyes was contradicted by the sweet, irresolute curves of the mouth. At +present her look expressed only a profound apathy. As he approached her +eyes turned toward him, but seemingly without recognition. Diffidence +was not among Tom Putnam's failings: he felt drawn by an unconquerable +sympathy and attraction to speak to her, even at the risk of intruding +upon the sacredness of her grief. + +"Excuse me, miss," he began, stopping in front of her, "but I want to +apologize for what I said yesterday about--about the cemetery. It must +have seemed very heartless to you, but I didn't know that you were in +mourning when I spoke as I did." + +"I have forgotten what you said," she answered. + +"I am glad you have," said Putnam, rather fatuously. There seemed really +nothing further to say, but as he lingered for a moment before turning +away a perverse recollection surprised him, and he laughed out loud. + +She cast a look of strong indignation at him, and rose to her feet. + +"Oh, I ask your pardon a thousand times," he exclaimed reddening +violently. "Please don't think that I was laughing at anything to do +with you. The fact is that last idiotic speech of mine reminded me of +something that happened day before yesterday. I've been sick, and I met +a friend on the street who said, 'I'm glad you're better;' and I +answered, 'I'm glad that you're glad that I'm better;' and then he said, +'I'm glad that you're glad that I'm glad that you're better'--like the +House that Jack Built, you know--and it came over me all of a sudden +that the only way to continue our conversation gracefully would be for +you to say, 'I'm glad that you're glad that I've forgotten what you said +yesterday.'" + +She had listened impatiently to this naïve and somewhat incoherent +explanation, and she now said, "I wish you would go away. You see that I +am alone here and in trouble. I can't imagine what motive you can have +for annoying me in this way," her eyes filling with angry tears. + +Putnam was too much pained by the vehemence of her language to attempt +any immediate reply. His first impulse was to bow and retire without +more words. But a pertinacity which formed one of his strongest though +perhaps least amiable traits countermanded his impulse, and he said +gravely, "Certainly, I will go at once, but in justice to myself I must +first assure you that I didn't mean to intrude upon you or annoy you in +any way." + +She sank down into her chair and averted her face. + +"You say," he continued, "that you are in trouble, and I beg you to +believe that I respect your affliction, and that when I spoke to you +just now it was simply to ask pardon for having hurt your feelings +yesterday, without meaning to, by my light mention of the dead. I've +been too near death's door myself lately to joke about it." He paused, +but she remained silent. "I'm going away now," he said softly. "Won't +you say that you excuse me, and that you haven't any hard feelings +toward me?" + +"Yes, oh yes," she answered wearily: "I have no feelings. Please go +away." + +Putnam raised his hat respectfully, and went off down the pathway. On +reaching the little gate-house he sat down to rest on a bench before the +door. The gatekeeper was standing on the threshold in his shirt-sleeves, +smoking a pipe. "A nice day after the rain, sir," he began. + +"Yes, it is." + +"Have you any folks here, sir?" + +"No, no one. But I come here sometimes for a stroll." + +"Yes, I've seen you about. Well, it's a nice, quiet place for a walk, +but the grounds ain't kep' up quite the shape they used to be: there +ain't so much occasion for it. Seems as though the buryin' business was +dull, like pretty much everything else now-a-days." + +"Yes, that's so," replied Putnam absently. + +The gatekeeper spat reflectively upon the centre of the doorstep, and +resumed: "There's some that comes here quite reg'lar, but they mostly +have folks here. There's old Mrs. Lyon comes very steady, and there's +young Miss Pinckney: she's one of the most reg'lar." + +"Is that the young lady in gray, with black eyes?" + +"That's she." + +"Who is she in mourning for?" + +"Well, she ain't exactly in mourning. I guess, from what they say, she +hain't got the money for black bunnets and dresses, poor gal! But it's +her brother that's buried here--last April. He was in the hospital +learning the doctor's business when he was took down." + +"In the hospital? Was he from the South, do you know?" + +"Well, that I can't say: like enough he was." + +"Did you say that she is poor?" + +"So they was telling me at the funeral. It was a mighty poor funeral +too--not more'n a couple of hacks. But you can't tell much from that, +with the fashions now-a-days: some of the richest folks buries private +like. You don't see no such funerals now as they had ten years back. +I've seen fifty kerridges to onst a-comin' in that gate," waving his +pipe impressively toward that piece of architecture, "and that was when +kerridge-hire was half again as high as it is now. She must have spent a +goodly sum in green-house flowers, though: fresh b[=o]quets 'most every +day she keeps a-fetchin'." + +"Well, good-day," said Putnam, starting off. + +"Good-day, sir." + +Putnam had himself just completed his studies at the medical college +when attacked by fever, and he now recalled somewhat vaguely a student +of the name of Pinckney, and remembered to have heard that he was a +Southerner. The gatekeeper's story increased the interest which he was +beginning to feel in his new acquaintance, and he resolved to follow up +his inauspicious beginnings to a better issue. He knew that great +delicacy would be needed in making further approaches, and so decided to +keep out of her sight for a time. In the course of the next few days he +ascertained, by visits to the cemetery and talks with the keeper, that +she now seldom visited her brother's grave in the forenoon, although +during the first month after his death she had spent all her days and +some of her nights beside it. + +"I hadn't the heart, sir, to turn her out at sundown, accordin' to the +regulations; so I'd leave the gate kinder half on the jar, and she'd +slip out when she had a mind to." + +Putnam read the inscription on the tombstone, which ran as follows: "To +the Memory of Henry Pinckney. Born October 29th, 1852. Died April 27th, +187-;" and under this the text, "If thou have borne him hence, tell me +where thou hast laid him." He noticed with a sudden twinge of pity that +the flowers on the grave, though freshly picked every day, were +wild-flowers--mostly the common field varieties, with now and then a +rarer blossom from wood or swamp, and now and then a garden flower. He +gathered from this that the sister's purse was running low, and that she +spent her mornings in collecting flowers outside the city. His +imagination dwelt tenderly upon her slim, young figure and mourning face +passing through far-away fields and along the margins of lonely creeks +in search of some new bloom which grudging Nature might yield her for +her sorrowful needs. Meanwhile he determined that the shrine of her +devotion should not want richer offerings. There was a hot-house on the +way from his home to the cemetery, and he now stopped there occasionally +of a morning and bought a few roses to lay upon the mound. This +continued for a fortnight. He noticed that his offerings were left to +wither undisturbed, though the little bunches of field flowers were +daily renewed as before. + +In spite of the funereal nature of his occupation his spirits in these +days were extraordinarily high. His life, so lately escaped from the +shadows of death, seemed to enjoy a rejuvenescence and to put forth +fresh blossoms in the summer air. As he sat under the cedars and +listened to the buzzing of the flies that frequented the shade, the +unending sound grew to be an assurance of earthly immortality. His new +lease of existence prolonged itself into a fee simple, and even in +presence of the monuments of decay his future, filled with bright hazy +dreams, melted softly into eternity. But one morning as he approached +the little grave-lot with his accustomed offerings he looked up and saw +the young girl standing before him. Her eyes were fixed on the flowers +in his hand. He colored guiltily and stood still, like a boy caught +robbing an orchard. She looked both surprised and embarrassed, but said +at once, "If you are the gentleman who has been putting flowers on my +brother's grave, I thank you for his sake, but--" + +She paused, and he broke in: "I ought to explain, Miss Pinckney, that I +have a better right than you think, perhaps, to bring these flowers +here: I was a fellow-student with your brother in the medical school." + +Her expression changed immediately. "Oh, did you know my brother?" she +asked eagerly. + +He felt like a wretched hypocrite as he answered, "Yes, I knew him, +though not intimately exactly. But I took--I take--a very strong +interest in him." + +"Every one loved Henry who knew him," she said, "but his class have all +been graduated and gone away, and he made few friends, because he was so +shy. No one comes near him now but me." + +He was silent. She walked to the grave, and he followed, and they stood +there without speaking. It did not seem to occur to her to ask why he +had not mentioned her brother at their former interview. She was +evidently of an unsuspecting nature, or else all other impressions were +forgotten and absorbed in the one thought of her bereavement. After a +glance at her Putnam ventured to lay his roses reverently upon the +mound. She held in her hand a few wild-flowers just gathered. These she +kissed, and dropped them also on the grave. He understood the meaning of +her gesture and was deeply moved. + +"Poor little, dull-colored things!" she said, looking down at them. + +"They are a thousand times more beautiful than mine," he exclaimed +passionately. "I am ashamed of those heartless affairs: anybody can buy +them." + +"Oh no: my brother was very fond of roses. Perhaps you remember his +taste for them?" she inquired innocently. + +"I--I don't think he ever alluded to them. The atmosphere of the medical +college was not very æsthetic, you know." + +"At first I used to bring green-house flowers," she continued, without +much heeding his answer, "but lately I haven't been able to afford them +except on Sundays. Sundays I bring white ones from the green-house." + +She had seated herself in her wicker chair, and Putnam, after a moment's +hesitation, sat down on the low railing near her. He observed among the +wild plants that she had gathered the mottled leaves and waxy blossoms +of the pipsissewa and its cousin the shinleaf. + +"You have been a long way to get some of those," he said: "that +pipsissewa grows in hemlock woods, and the nearest are several miles +from here." + +"I don't know their names. I found them in a wood where I used to walk +sometimes with my brother. _He_ knew all their names. I went there very +early this morning, when the dew was on them." + +"'Flowers that have on them the cold dews of the night are strewings +fittest for graves,'" said Putnam in an undertone. + +Her face had assumed its usual absent expression, and she seemed busy +with some memory and unconscious of his presence. He recalled the latter +to her by rising and saying, "I will bid you good-morning now, but I +hope you will let me come and sit here sometimes if it doesn't disturb +you. I have been very sick myself lately: I was near dying of the +typhoid fever. I think it does me good to come here." + +"Did you have the typhoid? My brother died of the typhoid." + +"May I come sometimes?" + +"You may come if you wish to visit Henry. But please don't bring any +more of those expensive flowers. I suppose it is selfish in me, but I +can't bear to have any of his friends do more for him than I can." + +"I won't bring any more, of course, if it troubles you, and I thank you +very much for letting me come. Good-morning, Miss Pinckney." He bowed +and walked away. + +Putnam availed himself discreetly of the permission given. He came +occasionally of an afternoon, and sat for an hour at a time. Usually she +said little. Her silence appeared to proceed not from reserve, but from +dejection. Sometimes she spoke of her brother. Putnam learned that he +had been her only near relative. Their parents had died in her +childhood, and she had come North with her brother when he entered the +medical school. From something that she once said Putnam inferred that +her brother had owned an annuity which died with him, and that she had +been left with little or nothing. They had few acquaintances in the +North, almost none in the city. An aunt in the South had offered her a +home, and she was going there in the fall. She looked forward with dread +to the time of her departure. + +"It will be so cruel," she said, "to leave my poor boy all alone here +among strangers, and I never away from him before." + +"Don't think of it now," he answered, "and when you are gone I will come +here often and see to everything." + +Her bereavement had evidently benumbed all her faculties and left her +with a slight hold on life. She had no hopes or wishes for the future. +In alluding to her brother she confused her tenses, speaking of him +sometimes in the past, and sometimes in the present as of one still +alive. Putnam felt that in a girl of her age this mood was too unnatural +to last, and he reckoned not unreasonably on the reaction that must come +when her youth began again to assert its rights. He was now thoroughly +in love, and as he sat watching her beautiful abstracted face he found +it hard to keep back some expression of tenderness. Often, too, it was +difficult for him to tone down his spirits to the proper pitch of +respectful sympathy with her grief. His existence was golden with +new-found life and hope: into the shadow that covered hers he could not +enter. He could only endeavor to draw her out into the sunshine once +more. + +One day the two were sitting, as usual, in silence or speaking but +rarely. It was a day in the very core of summer, and the life of Nature +was at its flood. The shadows of the trees rested so heavy and +motionless on the grass that they appeared to sink into it and weigh it +down like palpable substances. + +"I feel," said Putnam suddenly, "as though I should live for ever." + +"Did you ever doubt it?" she asked. + +"Oh, I mean here--_ici bas_--in the body. I can't conceive of death or +of a spiritual existence on such a day as this." + +"There is nothing here to live for," she said wearily. Presently she +added, "This hot glare makes me sick: I wish those men would stop +hammering on the bridge. I wish I could die and get away into the dark." + +Putnam paused before replying. He had never heard her speak so +impatiently. Was the revulsion coming? Was she growing tired of sorrow? +After a minute he said, "Ah, you don't know what it is to be a +convalescent and lie for months in a darkened room listening to the +hand-organ man and the scissors-grinder, and the fellow that goes +through the street hallooing 'Cash paid for rags!' It's like having a +new body to get the use of your limbs again and come out into the +sunshine." + +"Were you very sick?" she inquired with some show of interest. + +He remembered with some mortification that he had told her so once or +twice before. She had apparently forgotten it. "Yes, I nearly died." + +"Were you glad to recover?" + +"Well, I can't remember that I had any feelings in particular when I +first struck the up-track. It was hard work fighting for life, and I +don't think I cared much one way or the other. But when I got well +enough to sit up it began to grow interesting. I used to sit at the +window in a very infantile frame of mind and watch everything that went +by. It wasn't a very rowdy life, as the prisoner in solitary confinement +said to Dickens. We live in a back street, where there's not much +passing. The advent of the baker's cart used to be the chief excitement. +It was painted red and yellow, and he baked very nice leaf-cookies. My +mother would hang a napkin in the door-knocker when she wanted him to +stop; and as I couldn't see the knocker from my window, I used to make +bets with Dummy as to whether the wagon would stop or not." + +"Your mother is living, then?" + +"Yes: my father died when I was a boy." + +She asked no further questions, but a few minutes after rose and said, +"I think I will go now. Good-evening." + +He had never before outstayed her. He looked at his watch and found that +it was only half-past four. + +"I hope," he began anxiously, "that you are not feeling sick: you spoke +just now of being oppressed by the heat. Excuse me for staying so long." + +"Oh no," she answered, "I'm not sick. I reckon I need a little rest. +Good-evening." + +Putnam lingered after she was gone. He found his way to his old bench +under the cedars and sat there for a while. He had not occupied this +seat since his first meeting with Miss Pinckney in the summer-house, and +the initials which he had whittled on its edge impressed him as +belonging to some bygone stage of his history. This was the first time +that she had questioned him about himself. His sympathy had won her +confidence, but she had treated him hitherto in an impersonal way, as +something tributary to her brother's memory, like the tombstone or the +flowers on his grave. The suspicion that he was seeking her for her own +sake had not, so far as Putnam could discover, ever entered her +thoughts. + +But in the course of their next few interviews there came a change in +her behavior. The simplicity and unconsciousness of her sorrow had +become complicated with some other feeling. He caught her looking at him +narrowly once or twice, and when he looked hard at her there was visible +in her manner a soft agitation--something which in a girl of more +sanguine complexion might have been interpreted as a blush. She +sometimes suffered herself to be coaxed a little way into talking of +things remote from the subject of her sorrow. Occasionally she +questioned Putnam shyly about himself, and he needed but slight +encouragement to wax confidential. She listened quietly to his +experiences, and even smiled now and then at something that he said. His +heart beat high with triumph: he fancied that he was leading her slowly +up out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death. + +But the upward path was a steep one. She had many sudden relapses and +changes of mood. Putnam divined that she felt her grief loosening its +tight hold on her and slipping away, and that she clung to it as a +consecrated thing with a morbid fear of losing it altogether. There were +days when her demeanor betokened a passionate self-reproach, as though +she accused herself secretly of wronging her brother and profaning his +tomb in allowing more cheerful thoughts to blunt the edge of her +bereavement. He remarked also that her eyes were often red from weeping. +There sometimes mingled with her remorse a plain resentment toward +himself. At such times she would hardly speak to him, and the slightest +gayety or even cheerfulness on his part was received as downright +heartlessness. He made a practice, therefore, of withdrawing at once +whenever he found her in this frame of mind. + +One day they had been sitting long together. She had appeared unusually +content, but had spoken little. The struggle in her heart had perhaps +worn itself out for the present, and she had yielded to the warm current +of life and hope which was bearing her back into the sunshine. Suddenly +the elderly woman who had formed one of the company in the summer-house +on the day of the thunderstorm passed along the walk with her trowel and +watering-pot. She nodded to Miss Pinckney, and then, pausing opposite +the pair, glanced sharply from one to the other, smiled significantly +and passed on. This trifling incident aroused Putnam's companion from +her reverie: she looked at him with a troubled expression and said, "Do +you think you ought to come here so much?" + +"Why not?" + +"I don't know. How well did you know my brother Henry?" + +"If I didn't know him so very intimately when he was living, I feel that +I know him well now from all that you have told me about him. And, if +you will pardon my saying so, I feel that I know his sister a little +too, and have some title to her acquaintance." + +"You have been very kind, and I am grateful for it, but perhaps you +ought not to come so much." + +"I'm sorry if I have come too much," rejoined Putnam bitterly, "but I +shall not come much more. I am going away soon. The doctor says I am not +getting along fast enough and must have change of air. He has ordered me +to the mountains." + +There was silence for a few minutes. He was looking moodily down at the +turf, pulling a blade of grass now and then, biting it and throwing it +away. + +"I thank you very much for your sympathy and kindness," she said at +length, rising from her chair; "and I hope you will recover very fast in +the mountains. Good-bye." + +She extended her hand, which Putnam took and held. It was trembling +perceptibly. "Wait a moment," he said. "Before I go I should like to +show some little mark of respect to your brother's memory. Won't you +meet me at the green-house to-morrow morning--say about nine +o'clock--and select a few flowers? They will be your flowers, you +know--your offering." + +"Yes," she answered, "I will; and I thank you again for him." + +The next morning at the appointed hour Putnam descended the steps into +the green-house. The gardener had just watered the plants. A rich steam +exhaled from the earth and clouded all the glass, and the moist air was +heavy with the breath of heliotropes and roses. A number of butterflies +were flying about, and at the end of a many-colored perspective of +leaves and blossoms Putnam saw Miss Pinckney hovering around a +collection of tropical orchids. The gardener had passed on into an +adjoining hot-house, and no sound broke the quiet but the dripping of +water in a tank of aquatic plants. The fans of the palms and the long +fronds of the tree-ferns hung as still as in some painting of an Indian +isle. + +She greeted him with a smile and held out her hand to him. The beauty of +the morning and of the place had wrought in her a gentle intoxication, +and the mournful nature of her errand was for the moment forgotten. +"Isn't it delicious here?" she exclaimed: "I think I should like to live +in a green-house and grow like a plant." + +"A little of that kind of thing would do you no end of good," he +replied--"a little concentrated sunshine and bright colors and the smell +of the fresh earth, you know. If you were my patient, I would make you +take a course of it. I'd say you wanted more vegetable tissue, and +prescribe a green-house for six months. I've no doubt this man here +would take you. A young-lady apprentice would be quite an attractive +feature. You could pull off dead leaves and strike graceful attitudes, +training up vines, like the gardener's daughter in Tennyson." + +"What are those gorgeous things?" she asked, pointing to a row of +orchids hung on nails along the wall. + +"Those are epiphytic orchids--air-plants, you know: they require no +earth for their roots: they live on the air." + +"Like a chameleon?" + +"Like a chameleon." + +He took down from its nail one of the little wooden slabs, and showed +her the roots coiled about it, with the cluster of bulbs. The flower was +snow-white and shaped like a butterfly. The fringe of the lip was of a +delicate rose-pink, and at the base of it were two spots of rich maroon, +each with a central spot of the most vivid orange. Every color was as +pronounced as though it were the only one. + +"What a daring combination!" she cried. "If a lady should dress in all +those colors she'd be thought vulgar, but somehow it doesn't seem vulgar +in a flower." + +She turned the blossom over and looked at the under side of the petals. +"Those orange spots show right through the leaf," she went on, "as if +they were painted and the paint laid on thick." + +"Do you know," said Putnam, "that what you've just said gives me a good +deal of encouragement?" + +"Encouragement? How?" + +"Well, it's the first really feminine thing--At least--no, I don't mean +that. But it makes me think that you are more like other girls." + +His explanation was interrupted by the entrance of the gardener. + +"Will you select some of those orchids, please--if you like them, that +is?" asked Putnam. + +A shade passed over her face. "They are too gay for his--for Henry," she +answered. + +"Try to tolerate a little brightness to-day," he pleaded in a low voice. +"You must dedicate this morning to me: it's the last, you know." + +"I will take a few of them if you wish it, but not this one. I will take +that little white one and that large purple one." + +The gardener reached down the varieties which she pointed out, and they +passed along the alley to select other flowers. She chose a number of +white roses, dark-shaded fuchsias and English violets, and then they +left the place. Her expression had grown thoughtful, though not +precisely sad. They walked slowly up the long shady street leading to +the cemetery. + +"I am dropping some of the flowers," she said, stopping: "will you carry +these double fuchsias a minute, please, while I fasten the others?" + +He took them and laughed. "Now, if this were in a novel," he said, "what +a neat opportunity for me to say, 'May I not _always_ carry your double +fuchsias?'" + +She looked at him quickly, and her brown cheek blushed rosy red, but she +started on without making any reply and walked faster. + +"She takes," he said to himself. But he saw the cemetery-gate at the end +of the street. "I must make this walk last longer," he thought. +Accordingly, he invented several cunning devices to prolong it, stopping +now and then to point out something worth noting in the handsome grounds +which lined the street. And so they sauntered along, she appearing to +have forgotten the speech which had embarrassed her, or at least she did +not resent it. They paused in front of a well-kept lawn, and he drew her +attention to the turf. "It's almost as dark as the evergreens," he said. + +"Yes," she answered, "it's so green that it's almost blue." + +"What do you suppose makes the bees gather round that croquet-stake so?" + +"I reckon they take the bright colors on it for flowers," she answered, +with a certain quaintness of fancy which he had often remarked in her. + +As they stood there leaning against the fence a party of school-girls +came along with their satchels and spelling-books. They giggled and +stared as they passed the fence, and one of them, a handsome, +long-legged, bold-faced thing, said aloud, "Oh my! Look at me and my +fancy beau a-takin' a walk!" + +Putnam glanced at his companion, who colored nervously and looked away. +"Saucy little giglets!" he laughed. "Did you hear what she said?" + +"Yes," almost inaudibly. + +"I hope it didn't annoy you?" + +"It was very rude," walking on. + +"Well, I rather like naughty school-girls: they are amusing creatures. +When I was a very small boy I was sent to a girls' school, and I used to +study their ways. They always had crumbs in their apron-pockets; they +used to write on a slate, 'Tommy is a good boy,' and hold it up for me +to see when the teacher wasn't looking; they borrowed my geography at +recess and painted all the pictures vermilion and yellow." He paused, +but she said nothing, and he continued, talking against time, "There was +one piece of chewing-gum in that school which circulated from mouth to +mouth. It had been originally spruce gum, I believe, but it was +masticated beyond recognition: the parent tree wouldn't have known her +child. One day I found it hidden away on a window-sill behind the +shutter. It was flesh-colored and dented all over with the marks of +sharp little teeth. I kept that chewing-gum for a week, and the school +was like a cow that's lost her cud." + +As Putnam completed these reminiscences they entered the cemetery-gate, +and the shadow of its arch seemed to fall across the young girl's soul. +The bashful color had faded from her cheek and the animation from her +eye. Her face wore a troubled expression: she walked slowly and looked +about at the gravestones. + +Putnam stopped talking abruptly, but presently said, "You have not asked +me for your fuchsias." + +She stood still and held out her hand for them. + +"I thought you might be meaning to let me keep them," said Putnam. His +heart beat fast and his voice trembled as he continued: "Perhaps you +thought that what I said a while ago was said in joke, but I mean it in +real earnest." + +"Mean what?" she asked faintly. + +"Don't you know what I mean?" he said, coming nearer and taking her +hand. "Shall I tell you, darling?" + +"Oh, please don't! Oh, I think I know. Not here--not now. Give me the +flowers," she said, disengaging her hand, "and I will put them on +Henry's grave." + +He handed them to her and said, "I won't go on now if it troubles you; +but tell me first--I am going away to-morrow, and sha'n't be back till +October--shall I find you here then, and may I speak then?" + +"I shall be here till winter." + +"And may I speak then?" + +"Yes." + +"And will you listen?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I can wait." + +They moved on again along the cemetery-walks. Putnam felt an exultation +that he could not suppress. In spite of her language, her face and the +tone of her voice had betrayed her. He knew that she cared for him. But +in the blindness of his joy he failed to notice an increasing agitation +in her manner, which foretold the approach of some painful crisis of +feeling. Her conflicting emotions, long pent up, were now in most +delicate equilibrium. The slightest shock might throw them out of +balance. Putnam's nature, though generous and at bottom sympathetic, +lacked the fineness of insight needed to interpret the situation. Like +many men of robust and heedless temperament, he was more used to bend +others' moods to his own than to enter fully into theirs. His way of +approaching the subject had been unfortunate, beginning as he had with a +jest. The sequel was destined to be still more unlucky. + +They had reached a part of the cemetery which was not divided into lots, +but formed a sort of burial commons for the behoof of the poor. It was +used mainly by Germans, and the graves were principally those of +children. The headstones were wooden, painted white, with inscriptions +in black or gilt lettering. Humble edgings of white pebbles or shells, +partly embedded in the earth, bordered some of the graves: artificial +flowers, tinsel crosses, hearts and other such fantastic decorations lay +upon the mounds. Putnam's companion paused with an expression of pity +before one of these uncouth sepulchres, a little heap of turf which +covered the body of a "span-long babe." + +"Now, isn't that _echt Deutsch_?" began Putnam, whom the gods had made +mad. "Is that glass affair let into the tombstone a looking-glass or a +portrait of the deceased--like that 'statoot of a deceased infant' that +Holmes tells about? Even our ancestral cherub and willow tree are better +than that, or even the inevitable sick lamb and broken lily." + +"The people are poor," she murmured. + +"They do the same sort of thing when they're rich. It's the national +_Geschmack_ to stick little tawdry fribbles all over the face of +Nature." + +"Poor little baby!" she said gently. + +"It's a rather old baby by this time," rejoined Putnam, pointing out the +date on the wooden slab--"Eighteen fifty-one: it would be older than I +now if it had kept on." + +Her eyes fell upon the inscription, and she read it aloud. "Hier ruht in +Gott Heinrich Frantz, Geb. Mai 13, 1851. Gest. August 4, 1852. Wir +hoffen auf Wiedersehen." She repeated the last words softly over to +herself. + +"Are those white things cobblestones, or what?" continued Putnam +perversely, indicating the border which quaintly encircled the little +mound. "As I live," he exclaimed, "they are door-knobs!" and he poked +one of them out of the ground with the end of his cane. + +"Stop!" she cried vehemently: "how can you do that?" + +He dropped his cane and looked at her in wonder. She burst into tears +and turned away. "You think I am a heartless brute?" he cried +remorsefully, hastening after her. + +"Oh, go away, please--go away and leave me alone. I am going to my +brother: I want to be alone." + +She hurried on, and he paused irresolute. "Miss Pinckney!" he called +after her, but she made no response. His instinct, now aroused too late, +told him that he had better leave her alone for the present. So he +picked up his walking-stick and turned reluctantly homeward. He cursed +himself mentally as he retraced the paths along which they had walked +together a few moments before. "I'm a fool," he said to himself: "I've +gone and upset it all. Couldn't I see that she was feeling badly? I +suppose I imagined that I was funny, and she thought I was an insensible +brute. This comes of giving way to my infernal high spirits." At the +same time a shade of resentment mingled with his self-reproaches. "Why +can't she be a little more cheerful and like other girls, and make some +allowance for a fellow?" he asked. "Her brother wasn't everybody else's +brother. It's downright morbid, this obstinate woe of hers. Other people +have lost friends and got over it." + +On the morrow he was to start for the mountains. He visited the cemetery +in the morning, but Miss Pinckney was not there. He did not know her +address, nor could the gatekeeper inform him; and in the afternoon he +set out on his journey with many misgivings. + +It was early October when Putnam returned to the city. He went at once +to the cemetery, but on reaching the grave his heart sank at the sight +of a bunch of withered flowers which must have lain many days upon the +mound. The blossoms were black and the stalks brittle and dry. "Can she +have changed her mind and gone South already?" he asked himself. + +There was a new sexton in the gate-house, who could tell him nothing +about her. He wandered through the grounds, looking for the old woman +with the watering-pot, but the season had grown cold, and she had +probably ceased her gardening operations for the year. He continued his +walk beyond the marshes. The woods had grown rusty and the sandy +pastures outside the city were ringing with the incessant creak of +grasshoppers, which rose in clouds under his feet as he brushed through +the thin grass. The blue-curl and the life-everlasting distilled their +pungent aroma in the autumn sunshine. A feeling of change and +forlornness weighed upon his spirit. As with Thomas of Ercildoune, whom +the Queen of Faëry carried away into Eildon Hill, the short period of +his absence seemed seven years long. An old English song came into his +head: + + Winter wakeneth all my care, + Now these leaves waxeth bare: + Oft in cometh into my thought, + Of this worldes joy how it goeth all to naught. + +Soon after arriving at the hills he had written to Miss Pinckney a long +letter of explanations and avowals; but he did not know the number of +her lodgings, or, oddly enough, even her Christian name, and the letter +had been returned to him unopened. The next month was one of the +unhappiest in Putnam's life. On returning to the city, thoroughly +restored in health, he had opened an office, but he found it impossible +to devote himself quietly to the duties of his profession. He visited +the cemetery at all hours, but without success. He took to wandering +about in remote quarters and back streets of the town, and eyed sharply +every female figure that passed him in the twilight, especially if it +walked quickly or wore a veil. He slept little at night, and grew +restless and irritable. He had never confided this experience even to +his mother: it seemed to him something apart. + +One afternoon toward the middle of November he was returning homeward +weary and dejected from a walk in the suburbs. His way led across an +unenclosed outskirt of the town which served as a common to the poor +people of the neighborhood. It was traversed by a score of footpaths, +and frequented by goats, and by ducks that dabbled in the puddles of +rain-water collected in the hollows. Halfway across this open tract +stood what had formerly been an old-fashioned country-house, now +converted into a soap-boiling establishment. Around this was a clump of +old pine trees, the remnant of a grove which had once flourished in the +sandy soil. There was something in the desolation of the place that +flattered Putnam's mood, and he stopped to take it in. The air was dusk, +but embers of an angry sunset burned low in the west. A cold wind made a +sound in the pine-tops like the beating of surf on a distant shore. A +flock of little winter birds flew suddenly up from the ground into one +of the trees, like a flight of gray leaves whirled up by a gust. As +Putnam turned to look at them he saw, against the strip of sunset along +the horizon, the slim figure of a girl walking rapidly toward the +opposite side of the common. His heart gave a great leap, and he started +after her on a run. At a corner of the open ground the figure vanished, +nor could Putnam decide into which of two or three small streets she had +turned. He ran down one and up another, but met no one except a few +laborers coming home from work, and finally gave up the quest. But this +momentary glimpse produced in him a new excitement. He felt sure that he +had not been mistaken: he knew the swift, graceful step, the slight form +bending in the wind. He fancied that he had even recognized the poise +and shape of the little head. He imagined, too, that he had not been +unobserved, and that she had some reason for avoiding him. For a week or +more he haunted the vicinity of the common, but without result. December +was already drawing to an end when he received the following note: + + "DEAR MR. PUTNAM: You must forgive me for running away from you + the other evening: I am right--am I not?--in supposing that you + saw and recognized me. It was rude in me not to wait for you, + but I had not courage to talk with any one just then. Perhaps I + should have seen you before at the cemetery--if you still walk + there--but I have been sick and have not been there for a long + time. I was only out for the first time when I saw you last + Friday. My aunt has sent for me, and I am going South in a few + days. I shall leave directions to have this posted to you as + soon as I am gone. + + "I promised to be here when you came back, and I write this to + thank you for your kind interest in me and to explain why I go + away without seeing you again. I think that I know what you + wanted to ask me that day that we went to the green-house, and + perhaps under happier circumstances I could have given you the + answer which you wished. But I have seen so much sorrow, and I + am of such a gloomy disposition, that I am not fit for cheerful + society, and I know you would regret your choice. + + "I shall think very often and very gratefully of you, and shall + not forget the words on that little German baby's gravestone. + Good-bye. + + "IMOGEN PINCKNEY." + +Putnam felt stunned and benumbed on first reading this letter. Then he +read it over mechanically two or three times. The date was a month old, +but the postmark showed that it had just been mailed. She must have +postponed her departure somewhat after writing it, or the person with +whom it had been left had neglected to post it till now. He felt a +sudden oppression and need of air, and taking his hat left the house. It +was evening, and the first snow of the season lay deep on the ground. +Anger and grief divided his heart. "It's too bad! too bad!" he murmured, +with tears in his eyes: "she might have given me one chance to speak. +She hasn't been fair to me. What's the matter with her, anyhow? She has +brooded and brooded till she is downright melancholy-mad;" and then, +with a revulsion of feeling, "My poor darling girl! Here she has been, +sick and all alone, sitting day after day in that cursed graveyard. I +ought never to have gone to the mountains: I ought to have stayed. I +might have known how it would turn out. Well, it's all over now, I +suppose." + +He had taken, half unconsciously, the direction of the cemetery, and now +found himself at the entrance. The gate was locked, but he climbed over +the wall and waded through the snow to the spot where he had sat with +her so many summer afternoons. The wicker chair was buried out of sight +in a drift. A scarcely-visible undulation in the white level marked the +position of the mound, and the headstone had a snow-cap. The cedars +stood black in the dim moonlight, and the icy coating of their boughs +rattled like candelabra. He stood a few moments near the railing, and +then tore the letter into fragments and threw them on the snow. "There! +good-bye, good-bye!" he said bitterly as the wind carried them skating +away over the crust. + +But what was that? The moon cast a shadow of Henry Pinckney's headstone +on the snow, but what was that other and similar shadow beyond it? +Putnam had been standing edgewise to the slab: he shifted his position +now and saw a second stone and a second mound side by side with the +first. An awful faintness and trembling seized him as he approached it +and bent his head close down to the marble. The jagged shadows of the +cedar-branches played across the surface, but by the uncertain light he +could read the name "Imogen Pinckney," and below it the inscription, +"Wir hoffen auf Wiedersehen." + + HENRY A. BEERS. + + + + +STUDIES IN THE SLUMS. + + +VI.--JAN OF THE NORTH. + +"You're wanted at 248, and they said go quick. It's Brita, I shouldn't +wonder. Lord pity her, but it's a wild night to go out! Seems like as if +the Lord would have hard work to find anybody, with the rain an' sleet +pourin' an' drivin' so't you can't see a foot before your face. But He +will." + +"Yes, He will," the doctor's quiet voice answered. "Poor little Brita! I +am glad her trouble is almost over. Will you come? Remember how dreadful +the place is." + +"More so for me than for you?" + +"Surely, for I have been in the midst of such for twenty years, and +among them all have never known a worse den than that in which these +poor souls are stranded. If I could only see a way out for them!" + +The doctor had not been idle as she spoke, and stood ready now in thick +gray waterproof and close bonnet, her face a shade graver than its +always steady, gentle calm. Jerry followed, his badge of deputy sheriff +hastily put on, for the alley was one of the worst in the Fourth Ward, +and, well as she was known through its length and breadth, here the +bravest might shrink from going unattended. Out into the night, the wild +wind and beating rain seeming best accompaniments to the brutal revelry +in the dance-houses and "bucket-shops" all about. Here, one heard the +cracked and discordant sounds from the squeaking fiddles or clarionets +of the dance-music, and there, were shouts and oaths and the crash of +glass as a drunken fight went on, undisturbed by policeman and watched +with only a languid interest by the crowd of heavy drinkers. Up Cherry +street, past staggering men, and women with the indescribable voice that +once heard is never forgotten, all, seemingly regardless of the storm, +laughing aloud or shrieking as a sudden gust whirled them on. Then the +alley, dark and noisome, the tall tenement-houses rising on either side, +a wall of pestilence and misery, shutting in only a little deeper +misery, a little surer pestilence, to be faced as it might be. + +"It's hell on earth," said Jerry as we passed up the stairs, dark and +broken, pausing a moment as the sound of a scuffle and a woman's shrill +scream came from one of the rooms. "Do you wonder there's murder, an' +worse than murder, done in these holes? Oh, what would I give to tumble +them, the whole crop of the devil's own homes, straight into the river!" + +"Hush," the doctor said. "Stay, Jerry, a few minutes. You may be wanted, +but there is not room for all in there." + +As she spoke the door had opened, and a tall, gaunt woman in the +distinctive Swedish dress stood before us and mutely pointed us in. It +was hard to distinguish anything in the dim light of a flickering tallow +candle placed in a corner to screen it from the wind, which whistled +through cracks and forced the rain through the broken roof. On a pile of +rags lay three children, sleeping soundly. By the table sat a heavy +figure, the face bowed and hidden in the arms folded upon it, and on the +wretched bed lay the wasted figure of the girl whose life was passing in +the storm. + +"Poor little Brita!" I said again, for as the doctor bent over her and +took her hand the eyes opened and a faint smile came to the sweet, +child-like face. Long braids of fair hair lay on the pillow, the eyes +were blue and clear, and the face, wearing now the strange gray shadow +of death, held a delicate beauty still, that with health and color would +have made one turn to look at it again wherever encountered. The mother +stood silent and despairing at the foot of the bed. The motionless +figure at the table did not stir. There was no fire or sign of comfort +in the naked room, and but the scantiest of covering on the bed. + +The girl looked up faintly and put out her hand. "Pray," she said in a +whisper--"pray for the mother;" but even as she spoke she gasped, half +rose, then fell back, and was gone, the look of entreaty still in the +eyes. The doctor closed them gently, the poor eyes that would never need +to beg for help any more, and then the mother, still silent, came softly +and touched the girl's face, sinking down then by the side of the bed +and stroking the dead hands as if to bring back life. + +The man had risen too and came slowly to her side. "I thank God she iss +gone away from all trouble," he said, "but oh, my doctor, it iss so +hard!" + +"Hard!" the woman echoed and rose. "I will not hear of God: I hate God. +There iss no God, but only a deffil, who does all he vill. Brita iss +gone, and Lars and little Jan. Now it must be de oders, and den I know +vat you call God vill laugh. He vill say, 'Ah, now I haf dem all. De +fool fader and de fool moder, dey may live.'" + +"Brita! poor Brita!" the man said softly, and added some words in his +own tongue. She pushed him away, then burst into wild weeping and sank +down on the floor. + +"He will be her best comforter," the doctor said. "We will go now, and I +will see them all to-morrow. That money will get the coffin," she added +as she laid a bill on the table and then went softly out, "but the +coffin would not have been needed if help could have come three months +ago." + +"I thought it was some drunken home," I said, "but that man can never +have gone very far wrong. He has a noble head." + +"No, it is only hard times," she answered. "Go again, and you will learn +the whole story, unless you choose to hear it from me." + +"No," I said as we stood under the shelter of the still unfinished +Franklin Square Station on the elevated road, "I will hear it for myself +if I can." + +The time came sooner than I thought. A month later I went up the dark +stairs, whose treacherous places I had learned to know, and found the +room empty of all signs of occupation, though the bed and table still +stood there. + +"They're gone," a voice called from below. "They've come into luck, Pat +says, but I don't know. Anyhow, they turned out o' here yesterday, an' +left the things there for whoever 'd be wantin' 'em." + +"Bad 'cess to the furriner!" said another voice as I passed down. +"Comin' here wid his set-up ways, an' schornin' a bit of dhrink!" + +"An' if ye'd take patthern of him yerself--" the woman's voice began, +and was silenced by a push back into her room and the loud slam of the +door. + +"They have come to better times surely," the janitor said as I asked +their whereabouts at the mission, "an' here's their new number. It's a +quiet, decent place, an' he'll have a better soon." + +After Cherry and Roosevelt and Water streets, Madison street seems +another Fifth Avenue. The old New Yorker knows it as the once stately +and decorous abode of old Dutch families, a few of whom still cling to +the ancient homes, but most of these are now cheap boarding-Pouses and +tenements, while here and there a new genuine tenement-house is +sandwiched between the tiled roofs and dormer-windows which still hold +suggestions of former better days. The more respectable class of +'longshoremen find quarters here, and some of the mission-people, who, +well-to-do enough to seek quieter homes, choose to be as near as +possible to the work waiting for them, and for more like them, in that +nest of evil and outrage and slime, the Fourth Ward. + +Brita's head was bowed on the table as I went in, and Jan's face was +sorrowful as he looked toward her. "It iss not so alvay," he said. "She +hass made it all so good, and now she dinks of Brita, dat vill not see +it, and she say still, 'God iss hard to take her avay.'" + +"How is it, Jan? Did work come all at once?" + +"No, and yet yes. Shall I say it all, my lady?" + +"Surely, Jan, if you have time." + +"It iss de last day I vill be here in my home all day," he began, +drawing one of the children between his knees and holding its hands +fondly. "But see on de vall! It iss dat hass done some vork for me." + +I looked to where he pointed. On the wall, near the small looking-glass, +hung a round cap with hanging fox's tail--such a cap as the half-bloods +of our north-western forests wear, and the peasants of the European +North as well. + +Jan smiled as he saw my puzzled look. "It iss vy I say I vill tell it +all," he went on in his grave, steady voice. "Ven I see dat it iss to +see de North. For, see, it vas not alvays I am in de city. No. It iss +true I am many years in Stockholm, but I am not Swede: I am Finn--yes, +true Finn--and know my own tongue vell, and dat iss vat some Finns vill +nefer do. I haf learn to read Swedish, for I must. Our own tongue iss +not for us, but I learn it, and Brita dere, she know it too. Brita iss +of Helsingfors, and I am of de country far out, but I come dere vid fur, +for I hunt many months each year. Den I know Brita, and ve marry, and I +must stay in de city, and I am strong; and first I am porter, but soon +dey know I read and can be drusted, and it iss china dat I must put in +boxes all day, and I know soon how to touch it so as it nefer break. + +"But dere is not money. My Brita iss born, and little Jan, and I dink +alvay, 'I must haf home vere dey may know more;' and all de days it iss +America dat dey say iss home for all, and much money--so much no man can +be hungry, and vork iss for all. Brita iss ready, and soon ve come, and +all de children glad. Yes, dere are six, and good children dat lofe us, +and I say efery day, 'Oh, my God, but you are so good! and my life lofes +you, for so much good I haf.' Brita too iss happy. She vork hard, but ve +do not care, and ve dink, 'Soon ve can rest a little, for it iss not so +hard dere as here;' and ve sail to America. + +"But, my lady, how iss it it vas all so bad? For vork iss _not_. It iss +true I haf a little in de beginning. It iss three year ago. I know some +English I haf learn in sailing once to England, for de Finns go +eferyvere to sail. I am not helpless so, and I am large and strong, and +soon I go to de many, many china-stores--so many, I say, dat can nefer +be to vant vork--and in one dey take me. But it iss not much money, +dough I dink it so, for it iss alvay de rent--so much, and ve are +strange and dey cheat us. And ven I am troubled most, and dink to ask +for more, den quick it iss dat I haf none. De place iss failed--dat iss +vat iss tell me--and I go home to Brita to say vat shall to do? I could +dig, I vould go far off, but I haf not money; but I say, 'Ven I get +plenty it shall be ve go to vere earth shall gif us to eat, and not +starve us as here.' For soon it iss little to eat, and it iss dat ve +sell clothes and such as ve must. I get vork--a little on de docks. I +unload, and see men dat can steal all day from coffee-bags and much +sugar, and soon time iss come dat ve are hungry, and men say, 'Steal +too. It's hard times, and you _haf_ to steal.' + +"Oh, dere iss one day! It iss here now. My little Jan iss dead, and Carl +so sick, and all dat he must be vidout enough to eat, and my Brita vill +get a dollar and a half a veek to sew--alvays sew and she is pale and +coughs. I pray, 'O God, you know I vill not do wrong, but vat shall I +do? Show me how, for I am afraid.' But it vas all dark. I cannot go +home, for I haf not money. I cannot vork but one, maybe two, times a +veek. And alvays I see my own _hungry_! I dink I could kill myself; but +dat helps not, and I go avay, oh, eferyvere about New York, and beg for +vork. And den eferyvere it iss said, 'He is a _tramp_,' and alvays dey +tell me, 'No, ve gif not to _tramps_. Go to vere you came from.' I say, +'I am not tramps. My children are hungry. Gif me vork: I vant to eat for +dem--not money, but to eat if you vill. Gif me a little vork.' + +"I am dirty: Brita iss not dere to haf me clean. I vash as I can, in +vater anyvere, but I sleep on de ground. I eat not often. I am vild +truly, I know, and soon peoples are afraid. Den, my lady, I haf no more +faith. I say, 'God, you haf forgotten me: you haf forgotten vat you +promise. It may be God iss not anyvere.' So I come back, and I find dat +my little Brita iss sick--so sick she cannot vork--and Brita my vife; +she sew all she can, but it iss not enough. I go on de docks once more. +'No vork! no vork!' It iss de vord eferyvere. And one day, all de day +long, ve haf nothing--no fire, nothing to eat, and dere iss no more +anything to pawn, and I say, 'At last I vill steal, for vat else shall +be to do?' And I go out and down to de dock, for I know a boat going out +in de night, and I say, 'I too vill go.' But I go down Vater street. I +know it not much, for first my home iss on de odder side, but ve are so +poor at last ve are in Cherry street, and den vere you see us first. But +den I am just come, and I go by de mission and hear all sing, and I say, +'I vill stay a minute and listen, for soon nefer again shall I sit vid +any dat sing and pray and haf to do vid God.' So I go in, and listen not +much till soon one man stands up, an' he say, 'Friends, I came first +from prison, and I meant not efer to do more vat vould take me dere +again. But dere iss no vork, even ven I look all day, and I am hungry; +and den I dink to steal again. I vait, because perhaps vork come, but at +night I go out and say, "I know my old ground. Dere's plenty ready to +velcome me if I'm a mind to join 'em." And den, as I go, one says to me, +"Come in here;" and I come in and not care, till I hear many tell vat +dey vere, and I say, "I vill vait a leetle longer: I cannot steal now." +And now vork has come, and if God help me I shall never steal again.' + +"I stood up den. I said loud, 'I haf nefer steal. I belief in God, but +now how shall I? My heart's dearest, dey starve, dey die before me. Dere +iss no vork, dere iss no help. If I steal not, how shall I do?' I vas +crying: I could not see. Then Jerry came. 'You shall nefer starve,' he +said. 'Stay honest, for God _vill_ care for you, and ve'll all pray Him +to keep you so.' + +"And so, when meeting iss done, dey go vid me to see, and dere iss food +and all dey can. Dey are God's angels to me and to mine. + +"But, my lady, you know: you haf seen my little Brita. And efery day I +look at her and see her going avay, so fast, so fast, and my heart +breaks, for she is first of all. And den she iss gone, and still vork is +not. You haf seen us. All de days dey say. 'Dere vill come vork soon,' +but it comes not efer. And one morning I look in de chest to see if one +thing may still be to pawn, and dere iss only my cap dat I keep--not to +vear, no, but only to remember. And I sit, and it iss on my hand, and I +hold de fox's tail, and again I am in Finland, and I see de foxes run on +de ice, and I know vell dis one dat I hold de tail. Den quick I haf a +thought. I look for a stick all about: dere iss but a little one for de +fire, and no knife, but I get a knife from a man dat iss at de odder +room, and I cut it and tie it. I vill not tell Brita vat I do, but soon +I haf de tail vid a handle, and I put it inside my coat, and go to a +store vere iss a man I haf seen dat vill make many things, and money +sometimes. + +"'Ha, Jan,' he said ven I show it, 'dis _iss_ a notion! I'll gif you ten +dollar for dat notion.' + +"'No,' I say. 'If you say ten dollar I know it vorth more, for I know +vat you can do. But let it be more, and I may sell it.' + +"Den he talk. Dere is risk, he say, and he must spend much money, but he +say it vill _take_. Oh, I know dat vord, and ven he has talked so much +at last he say he vill write a paper and gif me one hundred dollar, and +make me a foreman ven he shall make dem. For he says, 'It iss vat all +ladies vill vant--so soft to make clean in de beautiful cabinets, and de +china on de vall so as dey hang it in great houses. Vid its handle for +stiffness, den de soft tail vill go eferyvere and nefer break. It iss a +duster, and best of all duster too, for nothing can efer break.' + +"So now he hass rooms--dree rooms--and many people are to take dem, and +to-morrow I go to show how one must hold all de tails, and dere is vork, +all I can do; and ven money iss come I dink to go avay, but not soon, +for I must help some dat haf no help. But oh, I dink of de little ones, +and of Brita dat iss gone; and de moder she cannot haf rest, for all day +she say, 'Vy must it be dey are gone, ven now iss plenty?'--'My God, it +iss your vill. And not fery long, and you vill make us a home vid her.' +It iss all right, my lady." + +Jan lingers still in his last quarters. The mission holds him fast, and +his grave, steady face is known to many a poor wretch just out of +prison--many a tramp who has returned despairing of work and been helped +to it by this man, himself a workman, but with a sympathy never failing +for any sad soul struggling toward a better life or lost in the despair +of waiting. Their name is legion, and their rescue must come from just +such workers--men who have suffered and know its meaning. Men of this +stamp hold the key to a regeneration of the masses, such as organized +charities are powerless to effect; and already some who believe in this +fact are seeking to make their work easier and to give the substantial +aid that it demands. The poor are the best missionaries to the poor, and +he who has gone hungry, suffered every pang of poverty and known +sharpest temptation to sin can best speak words that will save men and +women entering on the same path. + +To this end Jan lives--as truly a priest to the people as if hands laid +upon him had consecrated him to the work, but all unconscious what power +it holds to the on-lookers, and only sure of the one word, the mission +watchword--"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, +ye have done it unto Me." + + HELEN CAMPBELL. + + + + +UNDER THE GRASSES. + + + What do you hide, O grasses! say, + Among your tangles green and high? + "Warm-hearted violets for May, + And rocking daisies for July." + + What burden do you keep beneath + Your knotted green, that none may see? + "The prophecy of life and death, + A hint, a touch, a mystery." + + What hope and passion should I find + If I should pierce your meshes through? + "A clover blossoming in the wind, + A wandering harebell budded blue." + + DORA READ GOODALE. + + + + +"KITTY." + + +The Idler was hopelessly becalmed off Thomas's Point. Not a ripple could +be seen down the Chesapeake, and the locusts and pines along the shore +were shuddering uncomfortably with the heat of a July afternoon, hidden +halfway to their tops in the summer haze. What was to be done? Five +miles from home in a large sloop yacht filled with strangers from the +North, the crew left behind to be out of the way, and every one +thoroughly convinced that his neighbor was horribly bored! + +Thornton gave the tiller a vicious shove, as if that would wake the +yacht up, and glared forward along the row of parasols protecting fair +faces from the sun and of hats cocked over noses that were screwed up +with feelings too deep for words, and more intense than those produced +by heat, he thought. By five o'clock we had sung every song that ever +was written, and flirtations were becoming desperate. Mollie Brogden, +comfortably lodged against the mast, was dropping her blue parasol lower +and lower over one of the New York men as their conversation grew more +and more intense with the heat, and Mrs. Brogden was becoming really +alarmed. + +The situation was maddening! Nothing on board to eat; soft-shell crabs +and the best bill of fare of a Southern kitchen ordered at home for +seven o'clock; a couple of fiddlers coming from "the Swamp" at nine; and +Cousin Susan, the cook, even then promising little Stump Neal "all de +bonyclábá he cu'd stow ef he'd jest friz dis yar cream fo' de new +missis." + +"It is too provoking for anything!" the new missis whispered to +Thornton, as he stopped by his wife's side for an instant and moved on +to consult with some of the married men who were smoking in luxuriant +carelessness forward. Very little consolation he got there. Ellis from +Annapolis said he had known calms last two days, and sundry forcible +remarks were made when it was discovered that the last cigars were then +in our mouths. This was the last straw. Thornton felt furious with every +one, and muttered dark wishes that ante-war power might be restored to +him over the person of Uncle Brian when we got home--if we ever did--as +he reflected that that ancient African had guaranteed a breeze. + +Mollie Brogden smiled lazily at him as Donaldson fanned her slowly, and +waited until Thornton should pass, so that the talk which was leading up +to the inscription of a clever piece of poetry on her fan might be +continued. + +"By the way, Donaldson," as a sudden inspiration seemed to strike +Thornton, "did you ever hear anything more of Kitty after I left you at +Christmas?" + +The sweetness of that piece of poetry on the fan was never revealed. The +blue parasol went up with a jump, and a look assured Donaldson that +certain words had better have been left unsaid that afternoon if "Kitty" +should not be satisfactorily explained. I felt sorry for him, for every +one caught at the idea of something new, and the thought of an +explanation to the whole of that boatload, keen for all sorts of +badinage, would have tempted me overboard, I am sure. However, Donaldson +smiled very composedly, and said he believed the family were still in +Texas, although he had heard nothing more than Thornton already knew of +their history. + +Well, that simply made matters worse: Texas and Kitty were suggestive +enough for anything, and I caught a whisper from Miss Brogden that +seemed to imply that she doubted whether he had really been so +inconsolable for last summer's diversions as he had tried to make her +believe. That settled him, for I knew he had come down to Thornton's +expressly to see her, and he assured us it was a very small story, but +if we cared to hear it perhaps the breeze would come meanwhile, and he +would try to give the facts exactly as they had come to his knowledge. + +"We were a few hours out from Liverpool," he began, "and the +smoking-room of the Russia was pretty well filled with all sorts of men, +none of whom of course felt much at home yet, but who were gradually +being shaken together by the civilizing influence of tobacco and the +occasional lurches that the cross-chop of the Channel was favoring us +with. I was sitting near the door with a man from Boston whom I found on +board returning from a wedding-trip, and who, I discovered, had taken +orders since leaving Harvard, where I had known him slightly as a +bookish sort of fellow and not very agreeable; but as I was alone and +his wife was quite pretty, I was glad to meet him. + +"Well, we were running over old times, without paying much attention to +the guide-book talk that was being poured out round us, when somebody +laid a hand on my shoulder and one of the most attractive voices I ever +heard asked 'if there was room for a stranger from Texas?' This formal +announcement of himself by a newcomer made a little lull in the +conversation, but my friend made room for him in our corner, and he +quietly enveloped himself in smoke for the rest of the evening. + +"He was not inattentive, though, to the drift of our talk, for when +Hamilton mentioned having been at the Pan-Anglican, and spoke of the +effect such conventions should produce, the Texan's cigar came out of +his mouth and his blue eyes grew deeper in their sockets as he +interrupted us with the remark: 'The conventions of all the Bible-men in +the world would not have made La Junta any better if it had not been for +Kitty. You know what Junta was before she came?' he continued, seeing us +look a little surprised--'nothing but cards and drink, and--worse; and +now'--and he laid his hand on his hip as if from habit--'now we have no +trouble there any more.' + +"The oddness of the expression 'Bible-men,' I remember, struck me at the +time, but Hamilton made some explanatory reply, for the quiet force of +the soft voice had a certain persuasiveness about it without the aid of +his gesture, although the smoke was so thick that we could not see +whether he carried the instruments of his country or not. + +"Standing by the aft wheel-house, I found the Texan the next morning +throwing biscuits to the gulls and gazing wistfully seaward. + +"'Your first visit to Europe?' I said, steadying myself by the rail. + +"'Yes, but I would give all last year's herd if I had never come, for +Kitty is ill. I have travelled night and day since the telegram reached +me, but La Junta is so far away I am afraid I shall be too late.' + +"I wish I could give you an idea of his manner: it was more like that of +a person who had just learned the language and was afraid of making +mistakes, so hesitated before each word, giving every syllable its full +value. He explained this simply enough afterward--that Kitty had broken +him of swearing by making him think before he spoke." + +"But you haven't told us who Kitty was," interrupted the blue parasol. +"Was she light or dark?"--"his wife?"--"he wouldn't have dared!"--"a +Texan wife?" and Mrs. Brogden looked very grave at the possibilities the +flying questions aroused. + +"No, she wasn't his wife; only the Yankee schoolmistress of La Junta. I +never saw her. She must have been an angel, though, from his +description; so I will leave the details for your acquaintance +hereafter, Miss Brogden;" which outrageous flattery was received with +contemptuous silence. + +"She lived at Junta, and would canter over on Saturdays to Trocalara, +the Texan's ranch, to teach his herdsmen's families. His partner, +Parker, and he had a large cattle-ranch not far from the Mexican +frontier, and Kitty could not have lived on a bed of roses, I fancy. +Raids, stampedes and other border pleasantries were constantly +occurring. I remember we thought him too gentle at first to have really +hailed from the Plains; but one night, when Hamilton remonstrated with a +man who, I believe, had allowed himself to get in that state described +by the sailors as 'three sheets in the wind, and the fourth fluttering,' +and was met with rather an uncivil reply, the Texan shut the offender up +like a jack-knife with his heavy grip and the intimation that 'he +proposed to settle the Bible-man's scores.' + +"He grew quite intimate with Hamilton and me, and proved a delightful +companion. He would quote readily from many of the later poets, and knew +whole pages of Milton and Shakespeare by heart. Kitty had taught him +these, he said, after she married Parker and came to live with him. + +"'She made us read history-books first,' he said--'many, many +volumes--but we soon got to like them better than anything else. The +poetry _she_ read to us; and so we never went to the shows in Junta +after she came. Kitty has a good husband, as fine a fellow as ever +lassoed a steer, but she is too pure for Junta. Parker loves her, and I +love her too, but both of us do not make up for her Eastern comforts. +And so last year, as we made a good herd and there were no raids to +speak of, I came to New York to get a few luxuries for her. She wrote me +then to go to Paris and see the Exposition; so I went because I thought +she knew best, and that if I had seen the world a little I should be +nearer to her, and it would not be quite so hard for her out there. And +now she is ill, and--I am here!' + +"He turned impatiently away to ask the quartermaster what we were doing +by the last log. The speed appeared to satisfy him, for he sat quietly +down again and told us how it was that Kitty had come to live with them. + +"'For two years, you know'--assuming that we did know--'she spent +Saturdays at Trocalara, teaching our people how to read and write. They +were very rough at first--we all are out there--and did not care much; +but she interested them, and brought picture-books for the little ones, +and by and by she said she would come out on Sunday and we should have +church!' with a triumphant look at Hamilton and his Pan-Anglican +attendance. 'Yes, we had had a priest there before, but he was shot in a +row at Bowler's Paradise, and no one cared to apply for a new one. + +"'Kitty came up to the ranch the first Sunday, and asked us to come with +her. We refused at first, but after a while, when we heard the singing, +we went down to the quarters, and found her sitting under one of the +trees with all the young ones clustered round her; and we waited there +and listened until we began to feel very sorry that we had played so +late at Bowler's the night before. + +"'But Parker had been in luck, and he swore he would get her as fine a +piano as could be brought from the States (he was a half-Mexican by +birth) if she would sing like that for us at the ranch. + +"'She stood up then, with all the young ones looking on in amazement, +the light and shade playing over her through the cool, dark leaves, and, +turning her large gray eyes full on Parker's face, said she would if we +would promise never to go to Bowler's again. + +"'I think Parker expected her to refuse to come altogether, because we +had no women there, and we had heard the people in Junta talking of her +quiet, modest ways. But no, she never thought of herself: she only +thought of the nights at Bowler's, and wanted to save us from the end +she had seen often enough in two years in Junta. At any rate, the piano +came, and Parker had it sent as a sort of halfway measure to her house +in Junta, where she and her mother lived, and we were as welcome as the +light there always. + +"'You have no idea of her music. They told me at concerts in Paris that +I was hearing the finest musicians in Europe, but they were not like +Kitty. They played for our money--Kitty played for our pleasure: it +makes so much difference,' he added as his fingers drummed an +accompaniment to the air he whistled. + +"'One night Parker and I were sitting in a corner at Bowler's when we +heard a Greaser--a Mexican, you know--that Parker had refused to play +poker with the night before ask who the señorita was that had taken the +spirit out of Parker. + +"'We both started forward instantly, but as the man was evidently +ignorant of our presence, Parker checked me with a fierce look in his +eyes that showed that the spirit of his former days would be very apt to +put a different ending on the conversation if it continued in that tone. + +"'"Kitty," came the reply, as if that settled the matter. + +"'"Kitty? Ah, your American names are so strange! Kitty! But she is +beautiful, is this Kitty! I met her in the Gulch road this afternoon +this side of Trocalara. Caramba! how she can ride! The Parker has good +taste: I drink to my future acquaintance with her." + +"'As he raised the glass to his lips Parker stood behind his chair and +whispered, "If you drink that liquor, by God it will be the last drop +that shall ever pass your lips!" + +"'The next morning they sold the Mexican's horse and traps to pay for +burying him and for the damage done, and Parker lay in bed at Kitty's +with that in his side you would not have cared to see. + +"'Kitty never knew why he fought, and never even looked a reproach. It +was not much--I had seen him cut much worse in the stockyard at +home--but somehow he did not get well. The weeks slipped by, and each +time I called Kitty would say he was a little better, and a little +better, and oh yes, he would be back next week; but next week came so +often without Parker that at last, when the time came for changing +pastures, I went with the herd and left him still at Junta. + +"'I would willingly have taken his place, look you, if I had known the +result, but perhaps the other way was the best, after all; for now Kitty +has two men to serve her,' he added meditatively. + +"'When I got back to Junta in October, Parker was quite recovered, I +found out at the ranch, but was in town that evening, so I went quietly +into Kitty's house to surprise them. As I crossed the hall I heard +Parker's voice. Could I have mistaken the house? was it really his voice +I heard? Yes: he was telling Kitty how he had broken the three-year-old +colt to side-saddle, so when she came to Trocalara she must give up her +old pony. I knew then why Kitty had kept him there so long: he had lost +his reason and she wished to keep me from knowing it! + +"'But no. I stood still and listened, and heard him tell her how he had +always loved her, apparently going over an old story to her. My God! I +would as soon have told the Virgin I loved her! And then I heard her +voice. "When I am your wife--" she began. + +"'It all flashed on me in an instant then. I slipped noiselessly out, +and if they heard "Odd Trick's" gallop on the turf it was not because +his hoofs lingered too long there. + +"'I can't remember how I passed that night. The revelation had been so +sudden that the words seemed to be written in my heart and to be carried +through every vein with each beat. "When I am your wife--" What would +the result be? _Our_ Kitty was to be his wife? Could I still stay at the +ranch? "When I am your wife--" and I loved her! + +"'The next day I went into Junta and saw them both. I told Parker how +the herd stood, and how the shooting had been in the mountains, but I +never had the courage to look at her. + +"'After a while she went to the piano and played "Home:" then she came +and sat down by me and said, "I have told Parker I will go home with +him: I will try to be a sister to you." + +"'I believe I only stared at her, and then wrung Parker's hand and went +out. + +"'He married her the next month, and--and--Trocalara has been heaven +ever since. + +"'I never knew what a Christian was before she came: you know we have no +faith in Texas in things we can't draw a bead on. But when she read me +the story of the Scribes and Pharisees and Christ I felt ashamed to be +like those Flat-heads and Greasers in the New Testament who did not +believe in him; and now I feel sure of knowing some one in heaven, for +Kitty has promised to find me there.' + +"I forget a great many of the incidents he told us," Donaldson went on +in the quiet that was almost equal to the calm around us; "and I dare +say it would bore you to listen. But he certainly was the most +extraordinary man I ever met. I can't do justice to his expressions, for +they lack his soft voice and curious hesitation. I wish we had him here, +though." + +"Did you never hear of him again?" some one asked. + +"Yes. When we reached New York I found him standing in his old place by +the aft wheel-house in a dazed sort of way, with apparently no intention +of going ashore; so I asked him what hotel he intended to stop at. His +only answer was to hand me a letter dated some days before: + + + "'JUNTA, Texas. + + "'Kitty died last night. It is a boy, and is named after + you--her last wish. + + "'PARKER.' + + + +That was all the letter said, but as I looked at his white face and +burning eyes I saw it was what he had feared. + +"As I bade him good-night at the hotel that evening he asked me, 'Do you +really feel sure that I could find her--there?' + +"'Yes: she said so, did she not?' I replied. + +"'I will try,' he said simply. + +"The next morning they found him with a bullet-hole in his temple. He +had gone to find Kitty." + + * * * * * + +"Heads!" said Thornton as the boom swung over and the swirl from the +Idler's bow told us the wind had come. As I changed my place I caught +Miss Brogden's eye, and felt satisfied that Donaldson was forgiven. + + LAWRENCE BUCKLEY. + + + + +A GREAT SINGER. + + +There are so few of them! The next generation will hardly understand how +great were some of the lately-vanished kings and queens of the lyric +drama. We who have passed middle age, who have heard Lablache, and +Tamberlik, and Jenny Lind, and Viardot Garcia, and Alboni, and Giuglini +in their prime, and Grisi, Mario, Sontag and Persiani with voices but a +little the worse for wear, can sadly contrast the vocal glories of the +past with those of the present. Who are the great singers of to-day? Two +or three _prime donne_ and as many baritones. There is not a single +basso living to suggest Lablache, not a tenor to revive the triumphs of +Rubini, Mario, Giuglini or the subject of the present article. + +Gustave Roger, the celebrated French tenor, who so long reigned a king +at the Grand Opéra of Paris, was a born Parisian. He was of gentle +blood, his uncle being Baron Roger, who was a member of the Chamber of +Deputies in the days of Louis Philippe. He was born in 1815, and was +originally destined for the legal profession. But the boy's destiny was +the stage. It is on record that, being sent to a provincial town where +there was no theatre to complete his studies, he got up a representation +on his own account, playing the principal _rôles_ in three comedies. The +notary in whose office he had been placed was present on the occasion, +and warmly applauded the young actor, but the next day sent his +refractory pupil back to Paris. Finally, Roger's relatives decided that +his vocation for the stage was stronger than their powers of combating +it, and they placed him at the Conservatoire. He remained there for one +year only, at the end of which time he carried off two first prizes--one +for singing and the other for declamation. + +And here a curious fact must be remarked. Side by side with the great +lyric or dramatic celebrities that have won their first renown at the +_concours_ of the Conservatoire there is always some other pupil of +immense promise, who does as well as, if not better than, the future +star at the moment of the competition, but who afterward disappears into +the mists of mediocrity or of oblivion. Thus, in the year in which the +elder Coquelin obtained his prize the public loudly protested against +the award of the jury, declaring that the most gifted pupil of the class +was a certain M. Malard, who now holds a third-rate position on the +boards of the Gymnase. When Delaunay, the accomplished leading actor of +the Comédie Française, left the Conservatoire, it was with a second +prize only: the first was carried off by M. Blaisot, who now plays the +"second old men" at the Gymnase. So with Roger as first prize was +associated one Flavio Ping, a tall, handsome young man with a superb +voice. So far as physical advantages were concerned, he was better +fitted for a theatrical career than was the future creator of John of +Leyden, as Roger was not tall and had a tendency to embonpoint. M. Ping, +however, went to Italy, accepted engagements at the opera-houses of +Rome, Naples and Milan, sang there with success for a few years, lost +his voice, and finally disappeared. + +In 1838, Roger made his début at the Opéra Comique in _L'Éclair_, by +Auber. His success was immediate and complete. He remained at that +theatre for some years, his favorite character being George Brown in _La +Dame Blanche_. But his greatest triumphs at this period were those which +awaited him in the great opera-houses of London, where he sang the +leading tenor rôles in the operas of Bellini and Donizetti. In his +recently-published diary he gives some interesting details respecting +Jenny Lind, then at the height of her fame and the very zenith of her +powers. His first impression, after hearing her in _Norma_, was one of +disappointment. It was in June, 1847. The great tenor thus records his +impressions of the great prima donna: "She is well enough in Casta +Diva--that invocation to the moon suits her dreamy Teutonic nature--but +the fury of the loving woman, the deserted mother--No, no! a thousand +times no!" But the next season he goes to hear her in _Lucia_, and at +once the verdict is reversed. "She is one of the greatest artists it has +ever been my lot to hear," he writes. "Her voice, though charming in the +upper notes, is unfortunately a little weak in the middle register; but +what intelligence and invention! She imitates no one, she studies +unceasingly, both the dramatic situation and the musical phrase, and her +ornamentation is of a novelty and elegance that reconcile me to that +style of execution. I do not love roulades, I must confess, though I may +learn to do so later. Jenny Lind does one thing admirably: during the +malediction, instead of clinging to her lover as all the other Lucias +never fail to do till the act is ended, as soon as Edgar throws her from +him she remains motionless: she is a statue. A livid smile contracts her +features, her haggard eyes are fixed on the table where she signed the +fatal contract, and when the curtain falls one sees that madness has +already seized upon her." + +During this season in London, Roger, while singing at the Ancient +Concerts, saw in the audience one evening the duke of Wellington, and +thus writes of the event: "I had Wellington before me. I heard the voice +that commanded the troops at Waterloo. I looked into the eyes that saw +the back of the emperor. I cannot express the rage that seized upon me +at beholding him. To sing to and give pleasure to that man whom I would +fain annihilate!--him, and his past, and his country! As a Frenchman I +hate him, but I am forced also to admire him." + +The next year Roger, while fulfilling an engagement in London, was +requested to sing at a garden-fête given, under the patronage of the +queen, at Fulham, for the benefit of the poor. After the concert Roger, +leaning against an acacia, was watching the departure of the royal +carriages. "Lavandy came to me," he writes, "and said in a whisper, 'Do +you know who is at the other side of this tree?' + +"'No.' + +"I turned round, and saw a man with an aquiline nose and blue eyes, +whose deep yet gloomy gaze was fixed upon the splendors of royalty. 'Who +is it?' I asked of Lavandy. + +"'Louis Bonaparte.' + +"He had just been elected member of the Chamber of Deputies. As his name +appeared to be dangerous, he had been requested to take a vacation, and +he had returned to London, where he had formerly lived. I am glad that I +saw him: he may be somebody some day." + +It was in April of the previous year (1847) that Roger went to a +concert, where he records how he heard a comic opera called _The +Alcove_, by Offenbach and Déforges: "A little inexperience, but some +charming things. Offenbach is a fellow who will go far if the doors of +the Opéra Comique are not closed against him: he has the gift of melody +and the perseverance of a demon." It is rather curious to note, in +connection with this prophecy, that the doors of the Opéra Comique, +which were closed against Offenbach after the failure of his _Vert-Vert_ +some years before the war, are to be reopened to him next season, his +_Contes de Hoffman_ having proved the "Open, sesame!" to those +long-barred portals. + +But to return to Roger's reminiscences of Jenny Lind, which are, after +all, the most interesting for music-loving readers. We find him writing +in July, 1848: "I have again been to see Jenny Lind in _Lucia_. She is +indeed a great, a sublime artist, in whom are united inspiration and +industry." + +It was during this season that he concluded an engagement with the +English impresario Mitchell to become the tenor of the travelling +opera-troupe in which Jenny Lind was to be the prima donna, and which +was to undertake a tour through Scotland, Ireland and the provincial +towns of England. "I am delighted," he writes: "I shall now be able to +study near at hand this singular woman, whom Paris has never possessed, +but whose reputation, fostered at first in Germany under the auspices of +Meyerbeer, has attained in England such proportions that upon her +arrival in a certain city the bells were rung and the archbishop went +out to meet her and to invite her to his house. She is a noble-hearted +creature, and her munificence is royal: she founds hospitals and +colleges. In her blue eyes glows the flame of genius. Deprived of her +voice, she would still be a remarkable woman. Believing in herself, she +is full of daring, and achieves great things because she never troubles +herself about the critics. She lives the life of a saint: one would say +that she imagines herself sent by God to make the happiness of humanity +by the religion of art. Thus she remains cold and chaste in private +life, never permitting her heart to become inflamed by the ardent +passions wherewith she glows upon the stage. She told me that she could +never comprehend the lapse from virtue of Mademoiselle R----, a woman of +such lofty talent: 'To fail thus in what was due to one's self!'" + +It is pleasing to note how Roger's admiration for this great artist +extinguishes all the usual petty jealousy of a fellow-singer. He writes +thus frankly respecting a concert which they gave during their tour at +Birmingham: "It was a brilliant success, but the final triumph was borne +off by Jenny Lind, who fairly carried the audience away with her Swedish +melodies, the effect of which is really remarkable. She has a strength +of voice in the upper notes that is vast and surprising: without +screaming she produces echoes, the loud and soft notes being almost +simultaneous. In the artist's green-room she is kind and courteous +without being either mirthful or expansive. Moreover, she is +indefatigable, which is a precious quality for the manager. She never +stays at the same hotel with the rest of the troupe, which is a rather +imperial proceeding; but it is better so: we are more at our ease. She +lives her own concentrated life like some old wine that never sees the +light excepting on great occasions. I have at last found in Jenny Lind a +partner who understands me. On the stage she becomes animated; her hands +clasp mine with energy, and the thrill of dramatic fervor possesses her +whole being: she becomes thoroughly identified with her part, and yet +she never permits herself to be so carried away as to cease to be +entirely mistress of her voice." + +Roger gives us some brief glimpses of Jenny Lind in private life--her +love of dancing, of which she seems to have been as passionately fond as +was Fanny Kemble in her youth, and her delight in horseback riding. He +gives a comical account of an improvised ball, in which he figured as +the prima donna's partner, on board of the steamboat going from Dublin +to Holyhead: "Unfortunately, our orchestra fell off one by one; the +music finally ceased; and when we stopped waltzing and cast an uneasy +glance around us, we beheld all our musicians, their chests pressed +against the railings, their arms extended toward the ocean, in the +pitiable attitude of Punch when knocked down by the policeman." Some +days later, during a performance of _La Fille du Regiment_ at Brighton, +in the last act, while the orchestra was playing the prelude to the +final rondo, "Jenny Lind said to me in a whisper, 'Listen well to this +song, Roger, for these are the last notes of mine that you will hear in +any theatre.'" + +The next day a farewell ball, to which a supper succeeded, was given by +the manager at the Bedford Hotel to celebrate the conclusion and +brilliant success of the tour: "That dear Jenny drew from her finger a +ring set with a diamond of the finest water, and presented it to me with +the words, 'May every sparkle of this stone, Roger, recall to you one of +my wishes for your happiness!' In this phrase there was all the woman +and a tinge of the Swede." + +The next day he takes a final ride with the prima donna and Madame +Lablache. "I was very sad," he writes: "the idea of ending this happy +day has spoiled my pleasure. How well she looks on horseback, with her +great blue eyes and her loosened fair hair! And why does she quit the +stage? Is she tired of doing good? As long as she has been an artist she +has lived the life of a saint. They tell me of a bishop who has put +certain scruples into her head. May Heaven be his judge! + +"I know that in Paris people say, 'Why does she not come here to +consecrate her reputation? She is afraid, doubtless, of comparisons and +recollections.' No, no! she has nothing to fear. She preserves in her +heart of hearts, doubtless, some resentment for the indifference--to +call it no more--wherewith the last manager of the Opéra received her +advances for a hearing when her fresh young talent had just left the +hands of Manuel Garcia. But since then Meyerbeer has composed operas for +her; Germany, Sweden, England have set the seal upon her reputation: we +can add nothing to it. As to homage, what could we give her? Wherever +she goes, as soon as she arrives in a city its chief personages hasten +to meet her; when she leaves the theatre five or six hundred persons +await her exit with lighted torches; every leaf that falls from her +laurel-wreaths is quarrelled over; crowds escort her to her hotel; and +serenades are organized under her windows. At Paris, when once the +curtain falls the emotion is over, the artist no longer exists. A +serenade! Who ever saw such a thing outside of the _Barber of Seville?_ +It is in bad taste to do anything singular. As to escorting a prima +donna home, Malibran could find her way alone very well." + +Roger returned to Paris, recording as he did so the fact that he was by +no means overjoyed at finding himself at home: "And why? I cannot tell. +Perhaps I regret the life of excitement, those great theatres, the +audiences that changed every day, the struggle of the singer with new +_partitions_, the boundless admiration I experienced for that strange +being, that compound of goodness and coldness, of egotism and +benevolence, whom one might not perhaps love, but whom it is impossible +to forget." + +The next prominent event in the great tenor's career was his creation of +the character of John of Leyden in Meyerbeer's _Prophète_. There is +something very charming in the naïve delight and enthusiasm with which +he speaks of this, the crowning glory of his life. Contrary to the usual +theory respecting the production of a great dramatic effect, he declares +that the grand scene between the prophet and Fides in the third act, +where John of Leyden, by the sheer force of intonation of voice and play +of feature, forces his mother to retract her recognition of him and to +fall at his feet, was created, so to speak, by Madame Viardot and +himself on the inspiration of the moment and without any preliminary +conference or arrangement. How wonderful this fine dramatic situation +appeared when interpreted by these two great artists, I, who had the +delight of seeing them both, can well remember. To this day it forms one +of the great traditions of the French lyric stage. + +In the month of July, 1859, just ten years after that crowning triumph, +Roger one day, being then at his country-seat, took his gun and went out +to shoot pheasants: an hour later he was brought I back to the house +with his right arm horribly shattered by the accidental discharge of his +gun. His first action after having the wound dressed was to sing. "My +voice is all right," he remarked to his wife: "there is no harm done." +Unfortunately, the bones were so shattered that amputation was judged +necessary. That accident brought Roger's operatic career to a close. +Notwithstanding the perfection of the mechanical arm that replaced the +missing limb, he was oppressed by the consciousness of a physical +defect. He imagined that the public ridiculed him, and that the critics +only spared him out of pity. He retired from the stage, and devoted +himself to teaching, his amiable character and great artistic renown +gaining him hosts of pupils. In the autumn of 1879 the kindly, blameless +life came to a close. + +A devoted husband, a generous and unselfish comrade in his profession +even to his immediate rivals, and a true and faithful friend, he left +behind him a record that shows a singular blending of simple domestic +virtues with great artistic qualities, the union adorning a theatrical +career which was one series of dazzling triumphs. + + LUCY H. HOOPER. + + + + +OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + + +CONSERVATORY LIFE IN BOSTON. + +Our aspiring young friend from the rural districts who comes to Boston, +the great musical centre, for the art-training she cannot enjoy at home, +is full of enthusiasm as she crosses the threshold of that teeming hive, +the New England Conservatory of Music. The conflicting din of organs, +pianos and violins, of ballad, scale and operetta, though discordant to +the actual ear have a harmony which is not lost to her spiritual sense. +It is a choral greeting to the new recruit, who gathers in a moment all +the moral support humanity derives from sympathy and companionship in a +common purpose. Devoutly praying that this inspiration may not ooze out +at her fingers' ends, she goes into the director's sanctum to be +examined. This trial has pictured itself to her active imagination for +weeks past. Of course he will ask her to play one of her pieces, perhaps +several. Has she not, ever since her plans for coming to the +Conservatory were matured, been engaged in carefully training, +manipulating, her battle-horse for this critical experiment? As the door +of that little room closes upon her her knees begin to tremble. But how +easy and reassuring is the director's manner! He requests her to be +seated at the piano. Will she be able to remember a note at all? That is +now the question. Her musical memory is for the nonce obliterated. He +may have an intuition of this, for he says quietly, "Now play me a scale +and a five-finger exercise." Cecilia does this mechanically, and feels +encouraged. Now for the piece, the battle-horse, to be brought out and +shown off. She waits quietly a minute. But he asks for nothing more. Her +mere touch expresses to his practised ear her probable grade of +acquirement, and he assigns her to the instructor he deems best suited +to test her abilities and classify her in accordance with them. + +In a day or two she finds herself in regular working order, one of a +class of four. "And am I only to have fifteen minutes for _my_ lesson," +she asks herself, "when I always had an hour from the professor at +Woodville?" She knows that recitation is the cream of the lesson. In the +actual rendering of her task she can, in justice to her companions, +consume but a quarter of the allotted hour, but she soon discovers that +she is to a great extent a participant in Misses A----, B---- and +C----'s cream. After the master's correction of her own performance, to +see and hear the same study played by others with more or less +excellence--to compare their faults with her own--is perhaps of greater +benefit to her, while in this eminently receptive frame, than a mere +personal repetition would be. The horizon is broader: she gets more +light on the work in hand. + +"And now," she asks of her teacher, "how much would you advise, how much +do you wish, me to practise?" + +He smiles: memory reverts to his own six hours at Leipsic or Stuttgart, +but "milk for babes:" "Certainly not less than two hours a day under any +circumstances or obstacles, if you care to learn at all. If you have +fair health, and neither onerous household duties nor educational +demands upon your time outside of music, let me earnestly recommend you +to practise four hours. Less than this cannot show the desired result." + +The new pupil accepts the maximum of four hours' daily practice. "I +should be ashamed to give less," she generously confides to herself and +her room-mate: "it is but a small proportion, after all, of the +twenty-four." + +But this is not all. There are exercises at the Conservatory apart from +her special lessons which are too valuable to a broad musical education +to be neglected--the instruction in harmony, sight reading, the art of +teaching, analyses of compositions, as well as lectures and concerts. +One of the Conservatory exercises strikes her as being alike novel and +edifying. This is called "Questions and Answers." A box in one of the +halls receives anonymous questions from the pupils from day to day, and +once a week a professor of the requisite enlightenment to satisfy the +miscellaneous curiosity of six or seven hundred minds devotes a full +hour to the purpose. These questions are presumed to relate solely to +musical topics, and the custom was instituted for the relief of timid +yet earnest inquirers. A motley crew, however, frequently avail +themselves of the masquerade privilege to steal in uninvited. Cecilia +illustrates these fantastic ramifications of the young idea for the +benefit of friends in the interior. She jots down some of these +questions and their answers in her note-book: + +"How does a polka differ from a schottisch?"--"A schottisch is a lazy +polka. A polka is the worst thing in the world: the next worst is a +schottisch. A schottisch is so lazy, so slow, that a fire would hardly +kindle with it." + +"In preparing to play a piece in public should one practise it up to the +last moment?"--"Try it and see: you will soon decide in the negative. +Lay it aside some time before if you would avoid nervousness." + +"What would you give as a first piano-lesson to a young lady who had +never taken a lesson before?"--"Make her get the piano-stool at exactly +the right height and place: then ensure a good position of her hands +and easy motion of the fingers. Let her practise this for three days." + +"How far advanced ought a person to be in music to begin to +teach?"--"Teaching involves three things: first, a knowledge of +something on the part of the teacher; second, a corresponding ignorance +on the part of the learner; third, the ability to impart this knowledge. +These conditions fulfilled might sometimes allow a person to begin to +teach with advantage at a very early age and with a very moderate range +of acquirements, though, as every instructor knows, his earlier methods +were very different from his later ones. The difficulty with young +teachers in general is that they try to teach too much at once, like the +young minister who preached all he knew in his first sermon. Never +introduce more than two principles in any one lesson, and as a rule but +one." + +"Is a mazourka as bad as a polka?"--"No. I think it is not morally so +bad as a polka: it has somewhat the grace of the waltz." + +"Who is the best music-teacher in Boston?"--"As there are twenty-five +hundred persons teaching music in and about this city, and seventy-five +regular teachers at this Conservatory alone, both ignorance and delicacy +on my part should forbid a definite reply. It were well to remember +Paris, the apple of discord and the Trojan war." + +"Is Mr. A---- (a young professor at the Conservatory, voted attractive +by the feminine pupils in general) married?"--"This being Leap Year, a +personal investigation of the subject might be more satisfactory and +effectual than a public decision of this point." + +At the expiration of her first term Cecilia realizes that her condition +is one of constant growth: quickening influences are in the air. She +came to Boston to learn music: she is also learning life. She perceives, +moreover, that in her musical progress the æsthetic part of her nature +has not been permitted to keep in advance of technique. Heretofore she +was ever gratifying herself and her friends by undertaking new and more +elaborate pieces, not one of which ever became other than a mere +superficial possession. Now her taste is inexorably commanded to wait +for her muscles: the discipline has been useful to her. After a few more +such winters she will return to Woodville a teacher, herself become a +quickening influence to others. Musical thought will be truer, will find +a more adequate expression, in her vicinity. She will act as a +reflector, sending forth rays of light into dark corners farther than +she can follow them. + +And this is the motive, the mission, of the conservatory system in this +country, inasmuch as organized is more potent than individual effort to +elevate our national taste, to prepare the way for the future artist, +that he may be born under the right conditions, his divine gift fostered +and directed to become worthy of its exalted destiny. Already centuries +old in Europe, the conservatory is a young thing of comparatively +limited experience on our soil. It was introduced here twenty-five years +ago by Eben Tourjée. He had longed and vainly sought for the advantages +to perfect his own talent, and resolved while a mere boy that those of +like tastes who came after him should not have to contend with the +obstacles he had fought--that instruction should be brought within the +reach of all by a college of music similar to those in Europe, embracing +the best elements, attaining the most satisfactory results at the least +possible cost to the student. This project, for a youth without capital, +dependent upon his abilities for his personal support, was regarded even +by sympathetic friends as visionary. But nothing progressive is accepted +as a mere optimistic vision by the predestined reformer. Remote Huguenot +and immediate Yankee ancestry is perhaps a good combination for pioneer +material. However this may be, his efforts were crystallized, shaped, +sooner than most schemes of such magnitude. Continuing his classes in +piano, organ and voice for a year or two with successful energy, Mr. +Tourjée found in 1859 the desired opportunity for his experiment. The +principal of a seminary in East Greenwich, Rhode Island, accorded him +the use of his building, and more students presented themselves +ultimately than could be accommodated on the grounds of the institution. +After a visit to Europe for the purpose of examining the celebrated +German, French and Italian schools, Mr. Tourjée returned, and, fired +with new zeal, started in 1864 a chartered conservatory at Providence. +This proved eminently successful. But Boston was the ideal site: talent +gravitates toward large cities, and Boston's acknowledged "love of the +first rate" would be the best surety for a lofty standard and +approximate fulfilment. In 1867, under a charter from the State, he +finally transplanted his school to this metropolis under the name of the +New England Conservatory of Music, which it retains to the present date. +It has, with characteristic American rapidity, become the largest +music-school in the world, having within fifteen years instructed over +twenty thousand pupils: in a single term it frequently numbers between +eight and nine hundred. It has a connection with Boston University, the +only one in the country where music is placed on the same basis with +other intellectual pursuits, and the faculty numbers some of the most +renowned artists and composers in the land. Eben Tourjée was appointed +dean of the College of Music in the University, with the title of Mus. +Doctor. + +The New England Conservatory deserves this special mention as the parent +school in America, and it has been promptly and ably followed by the +establishment of others in most of our large cities. + + F. D. + + +CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE IN THE WEST OF IRELAND. + +[The following extract from a private letter just received from Ireland +gives a glimpse of the state of affairs in that country which may +interest our readers, as indicating, better than any mere partisan +statements or newspaper reports, the solid grounds that exist for +apprehension in regard to impending disturbances:] + + "I have just returned from a tour in the west of Ireland, and I + wish I could describe the horrors I have seen--such abject + misery and such demoralization as you, no doubt, never came in + contact with in your life. The scenery of Connemara beats + Killarney in beauty and the Rhine in extent and magnificence, + but no tourist could face the hotels: the dirt, the + incompetence, the abominableness of every kind are awful. As + these people were two hundred years ago, so they are + now--ignorant, squalid savages, half naked, living on potatoes + such as a Yankee pig would scorn, speaking only their barbarous + native tongue, lying and thieving through terror and want, with + their children growing up in hopeless squalor. Very few savages + lead such lives, while few people are so oppressed and harassed + by the pains and penalties of civilization. For they are + chin-deep in debt. I saw promissory notes five and six times + renewed, with the landlord, away on the Continent, threatening + eviction. The selfishness of the landlords is too revolting. + They live in England or on the Continent, and confine their + duties in life to giving receipts for their rent. Imagine the + whole product of the land, in a country destitute of + manufactures and commerce, remitted to England, and the utmost + farthing of rent exacted from these wretches, no matter what + the season is, a valuation of fifty shillings, for example, + paying a rent of seven pounds--three hundred per cent.! Some + great catastrophe is imminent. Not a gun is left in the + gunsmiths' shops in Dublin, and I am told that shiploads are + brought in from America weekly. The people are perfectly right + in resisting eviction, but Parliament ought to interpose. We + must get rid of the landlords, and we must establish compulsory + education. Then the priests will go like smoke before the wind. + Free trade is another cause of the troubles. That is one of the + most specious humbugs extant, and has ruined the Irish farmers. + It may be all right in principle, but now and here it is simply + mischievous. Professor ----, who is a member of the new Land + Commission, went round with me in Connemara, and implored me to + write up the state of the district; but before anything can be + published and reach the English ear the autumn rent-day will + have come, and the gale will be at its height." + + +HIGH JINKS ON THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI. + +_To the Editor of Lippincott's Magazine:_ + +It is a remarkable historical fact that the latest visitor to the Upper +Mississippi has always felt it his duty to assail the good faith of +every previous traveller. Beltrami (1823) attacked Pike (1806); +Schoolcraft (1832) fleshed his pen in Beltrami; Allen, who accompanied +Schoolcraft, afterward became his enemy and branded him as a +geographical quack; Nicollet (1836) arraigned both Schoolcraft and Allen +for incompetency; and so on. And now, at this late day, in a mild way +tradition repeats itself. Your great original geographer, Mr. Siegfried, +concluded his two essays on the "High Mississippi" by saying, "Beyond +reasonable doubt our party is the only one that ever pushed its way by +boat up the entire course of the farthermost Mississippi. Beyond any +question ours were the first wooden boats that ever traversed these +waters." Then, after a slap at poor Schoolcraft, he declares that +although I claimed the entire trip in my canoe five years ago, my guide +and others told him that my Dolly Varden never was above Brainerd, and +_that my portages above were frequent_. Except that, by implication, he +questions my veracity, I would not have taken any notice of the feat on +which he prides himself. To the general reader the word "Brainerd" +conveys no idea further than the one which the author adroitly tries to +convey (without saying so), that I did not travel the entire Upper +Mississippi: his use of the word "High" is another trick to cover a very +small job, as I shall hereafter show. But the fact is, that Mr. +Siegfried has discovered a mare's nest. By stating one fact which has +never been disguised, and repeating an allegation which is absolutely +false, he would dispose utterly of the very trip that made his journey +so easy of accomplishment. + +I laid out for myself just one task and no more: I started in May, 1872, +for the sources of the Mississippi, thence to descend the entire river. +After days of inquiry and two trips over the Northern Pacific Railroad, +I decided upon a route to Itasca Lake which no white man had ever +traversed. I made an entirely successful journey, marking out the White +Earth route so clearly that any child could follow it thereafter. What +feat is there to go over ground which I described so explicitly as +follows?--First stage, to White Earth; second stage, to the Twin Lakes; +third stage, across the prairie to the Wild Rice River; fourth stage, up +that stream to the Lake of the Spirit Isle; and fifth stage, of half a +day, by the Ah-she-wa-wa-see-ta-gen portage, to the Mississippi, at a +point twenty-six miles north of Itasca. The same afternoon and the +following day, energetically employed, will suffice to put anybody at +the sources of "the Father of Rivers." Anybody could take a tissue-paper +boat to Itasca after 1872. Had I had a predecessor over this route to +Itasca, as Mr. Siegfried had, and could I have travelled as he did with +a roll of newspaper letters telling me where to stop and when, how to go +and where, I should have been the first to acknowledge my indebtedness +to the man who showed me the way. Why did not Mr. S. take Nicollet's or +Schoolcraft's route, or seek a new one? Simply for the reason that my +itinerary was so clearly laid down that the journey became merely a +Cook's excursion. I had built and took with me to Minnesota a paper boat +for the descent of the river, but I have never made any secret of the +fact that I bought another one (a twin in name and fitted with the +appliances of the New York craft) for the tramp of seventy miles through +the wilderness from the railroad to the sources. In this I merely +followed the example frequently set by Mr. MacGregor, who is the father +of canoeing, and the advice of George A. Morrison, government +storekeeper at White Earth, the Hon. Dr. Day, United States Indian +commissioner, and other gentlemen of equal prominence. Neither of these +gentlemen had been over the ground, but they represented the country as +awful in the extreme. I acquainted everybody who asked with my +decision, and, were it desirable to involve others in this matter, could +name fifty persons to whom every detail of this initial stage of my trip +has been explained. Not a particle of accurate information regarding the +road, the number of days required or the distance could be obtained. It +was not possible _then_ to contract for forty-one dollars to be landed +on the Mississippi! Mr. Siegfried might have seen at every +camping-ground and meal-station along the route the blazed trees bearing +the deeply-cut Greek "delta," which seven years' precedence cannot have +effaced. His descriptions and mine are identical throughout: therefore, +he has either not been over the course at all (which I do not insinuate) +or he only proves the accuracy of my reports. He disposes of my fourteen +hundred and seventy-one miles of canoeing on the Mississippi because, +forsooth! I did not make a small part of it in a craft to suit his +liking. He claims that his was the first wooden boat that ever pushed up +to Itasca. This is something that I don't know anything about: several +parties have been there since 1832. What will he do with the claimant of +the first sheet-iron boat? + +Mr. Siegfried's allegation that I made frequent portages is grossly and +maliciously false. That honor belongs to him, as a few facts will show. +In giving the guide as his authority he is most illogical, for in his +first article (on three separate pages) he wholly discredits this same +man. Again, some information: there are five portages above Aitkin, as +follows: first, into the western gulf of Lake Cass, saving six miles; +second, Little Winnipeg Lake into a stream leading to the Ball Club Lake +(missing the great tributary Leech Lake River); third, at White Oak +Point, below the Eagle's Nest Savannah; fourth, Pokegama Falls, a carry +of two hundred yards on the left bank (a necessity); and fifth, a +cut-off above Swan River, saving six miles. This last was the only +portage (except the falls) made by my party, and was availed of to reach +good camping-ground before dark. Indeed, as to portaging I must yield +the palm to my vainglorious successor. Behold his record! He jumped +twenty-six miles in the Ball Club Lake portage, and was still unhappy +because he could not ride from the landing below Pokegama to Aitkin (one +hundred and fifty miles; see p. 288) on the small steamboat that +sometimes runs to the lumber-camp. Reaching Muddy River (now Aitkin), in +the language of a free pass, he boarded "the splendid railway" +for--Minneapolis!--thus again skipping two hundred and forty-four miles +of the river at one bound, and escaping the French Rapids, Little Falls, +Pike, Wautab and Sauk Rapids, while I was foolish enough to paddle down +to Anoka (as near as I cared to go to St. Anthony's Falls). Thence I +portaged to Minnehaha Creek, as he did--another strange +coincidence--whence, by daily stages, I descended to Alton, seven +hundred and seventy-five miles, where I took steamer for St. Louis, New +Orleans, and, finally, New York. Mr. Siegfried, on the contrary, in a +distance of six hundred and ninety-six miles from the sources to St. +Anthony (Nicollet's official measurement; see _U. S. Senate Doc. 237_, +Twenty-sixth Congress, 2d Session, Appendix), jumped exactly two hundred +and sixty miles, or about two-fifths of his whole journey! Some of that +water, too, which he so conveniently escaped is very unpleasant, even +dangerous, especially Pike Rapids, into which I was drawn unawares, and +had to run through at considerable risk to my boat. + + I am, sir, yours, + + J. CHAMBERS, + + _The Crew of the Dolly Varden._ + + PHILADELPHIA, August 21, 1880. + + +FATE OF AN OLD COMPANION OF NAPOLEON III. + +_L'Indépendant_, published at Boulogne, gives some interesting details +about a personage that played an important rôle in the history of the +last emperor of the French, and has not had much cause to be proud of +the gratitude of his patron. This personage was the famous tame eagle +that accompanied Prince Louis in his ridiculous expedition to Boulogne, +and which was taught to swoop down upon the head of the pretender--a +glorious omen to those who did not know that the attraction was a piece +of salted pork! This unfortunate eagle was captured at the same time as +his master, but while the latter was shut up at Ham, the eagle was sent +to the slaughter-house at Boulogne, where he lived many years--an +improvement in his fate, says _L'Indépendant_, since his diet of salt +pork was replaced by one of fresh meat. In 1855, Napoleon III. went to +Boulogne to review the troops destined for the Crimea and to receive the +queen of England. While there some one in his suite spoke to him of this +bird, telling him that it was alive and where it was to be found. But +the emperor refused to see his old companion, or even grant him a +life-pension in the Paris Jardin des Plantes. The old eagle ended his +days in the slaughter-house, and to-day he figures, artistically +_taxidermatized_, in one of the glass cases of the museum of +Boulogne--immortal as his master, despite the reverses of fortune. + + +A NATURAL BAROMETER. + +Everybody has admired the delicate and ingenious work of the spider, +everybody has watched her movements as she spins her wonderful web, but +all do not know that she is the most reliable weather-prophet in the +world. Before a wind-storm she shortens the threads that suspend her +web, and leaves them in this state as long as the weather remains +unsettled. When she lengthens these threads count on fine weather, and +in proportion to their length will be its duration. When a spider rests +inactive it is a sign of rain: if she works during a rain, be sure it +will soon clear up and remain clear for some time. The spider, it is +said, changes her web every twenty-four hours, and the part of the day +she chooses to do this is always significant. If it occurs a little +before sunset, the night will be fine and clear. Hence the old French +proverb: "Araignée du soir, espoir." + + M. H. + + + + +LITERATURE OF THE DAY. + + + L'Art: revue hebdomadaire illustrée. Sixième année, Tome II. + New York: J. W. Bouton. + +Nowhere but in Paris could the resources, the technical knowledge and +perfect command of all the appliances of bookmaking be found to sustain +such a publication as _L'Art_. In six years it has not abated by one +tittle the perfection with which it first burst upon the world. Its +standard is as high, its subjects are as inexhaustible, as ever. We hear +now and then of a decline in French art: the great artists who carried +it to the high-water mark of modern times have all, or nearly all, +passed away, but there is certainly no sign of a vacuum. The activity of +production is as great as ever, the interest in art as vital. _L'Art_ +draws its material from past as well as present; the work of older +artists is kept alive in its pages by the most perfect reproductions; +and in its special department of black and white there is advancement +rather than decline. The importance of such a publication to the +interests of art throughout the world is incalculable. It absorbs the +best thought and production of the day. Its high standard and breadth of +scope render it impossible for any particular clique to predominate in +its pages, while its independent tone and encouragement of individual +talent make it a powerful counteracting influence to the conventionalism +which forms the chief danger to art in a country where technical rules +have become official laws. In fact, _L'Art_ has constituted itself a +government of the opposition. It has its Prix de Florence for the +education in Italy of promising young sculptors--its galleries in the +Avenue de l'Opéra, which are used for the purpose of "independent" +exhibitions or for the display of work by one or another artist. It +examines and reports the progress of art all over the world, rousing the +latent Parisian curiosity as to the achievements of foreign artists, +and, what is of more importance (to us at least), it shows the world +what is being done and said and thought in the art-circles of Paris. The +perusal of its comprehensive index alone will give the reader a clear +outline of the state of art in Russia, Japan, Persia and Algeria, as +well as in the better-known countries. Such a work is not for the +delight of one people alone: it comes home to art-lovers everywhere. + +The principal art-event of last spring was the Demidoff sale. About half +the etchings in the volume before us are reproductions of pictures in +that collection. M. Flameng has forgotten all the perplexities and +intricacies of the nineteenth century to render the placid graciousness +of a beauty whose portrait was painted in the eighteenth by Drouais. M. +Trimolet has etched in a Dutch manner a landscape of Hobbema in the +Louvre, but M. Gaucherel translates a Ruysdael from the Demidoff +collection into an exquisite delicacy and airiness of line which is the +language of etching in its most modern expression. A Demidoff Rembrandt, +a Lucrezia, reproduced by the needle of M. Koepping, is an example of +the naïveté of an art which gave itself no thought for archæology. +Lucrezia is a simple Dutch maiden in the full-sleeved, straight-bodied +Flemish costume. Her innocent, childish face tells of real grief, but +not of a tragic history. It is interesting to compare the type with that +of Raphael's Lucrezia, with its clinging classic drapery and countenance +moulded on that of a tragic mask. + +The most striking etching in this volume is that of M. Edm. Ramus, after +a portrait in this year's Salon. The name of the painter, Van der Bos, +is Flemish, but if his picture had any qualities not distinctively +French the genius of the etcher has swept them away. The conception, the +character, the pose would all pass for a work of the most advanced +French school. Its qualities belong to Paris and to-day. A young woman +of a somewhat hard, positive type, neither beautiful nor intellectual, +but _chic_ to her finger-tips, jauntily dressed--hat with curling +feathers, elbow sleeves, long gloves--standing in an erect and +completely unaffected attitude,--that is the subject. The execution is +simply superb. Every line is strong and effective: the modelling, the +poise of the figure and the breadth of the shadows in dry point, are +masterly. The Salon articles, five in number, are from the pen of M. Ph. +Burty, the most radical, incisive and original writer on the +staff--champion of the Impressionists, bitter enemy of the Academics and +warm admirer of any fresh, sincere and individual talent. In his short +review of the work of American artists in the Salon his sympathies are +frankly with those who have ranged themselves under unofficial +leadership in their adopted city. He has warm eulogy both for Mr. +Sargent and Mr. Picknell, refusing to believe that the excellence of the +latter is due in any way to his instruction at the École des Beaux-Arts. +M. Burty concludes the notice of American pictures with a "Hurrah pour +la jeune école Américaine! hurrah!" which will be gratefully responded +to by those of us who are proud of our growing school. + +The "Silhouettes d'Artistes contemporains" are continued in two papers +on De Nittis, accompanied by some exquisite reproductions of etchings by +that artist; and there are a couple of articles of great interest by M. +Véron on Ribot, illustrated by fac-similes of the powerful work of one +whom M. Véron unhesitatingly ranks among the greatest names in modern +French art. There is both literary and artistic interest in the +engravings after pen-and-ink sketches made by Victor Hugo, showing that +the poet is able to throw his personality and wonderful imagination into +an art which he did not practise till pretty late in life, and then +simply as a recreation and without attempting to master its technique. +Victor Hugo is stamped as plainly upon these drawings--made, not by line +and rule, but by following up the ideas suggested by the direction of a +blot of ink--as on the pages of his most deliberate works. In offering +homage to the poet _L'Art_ does not depart from its line, which embraces +art in its manifold forms. The newest products of the stage are +discussed as well as those of the studios, and contemporary literature +is reflected in more ways than one in its pages. + + + Mrs. Beauchamp Brown. (Second No-Name Series.) Boston: Roberts + Brothers. + +Were this story as good as its name or half as good as some of the +undeniably clever things it contains, it might be accepted as a very +fair book of its kind. It was written with the evident intention of +saying brilliant and witty things; but this brilliance and wit sometimes +miss their effect, as, for instance, on the very first page, where Dick +Steele's famous compliment is bestowed upon Lady Mary Wortley Montagu +instead of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings. We might mention other thwarted +attempts, which give much the same jar to our sensibilities as when some +one thinks to afford us pleasure by singing a favorite air out of tune. +The facility with which the characters are transported from the ends of +the earth to meet at a place called Plum Island surpasses any trick in +legerdemain. Unless we had read it here we should never have believed +that life on the coast of Maine could be so exciting, so cosmopolitan in +its scope, so thrilling in its incidents. There is a jumble of +notabilities--leaders of Boston and Washington society, a Jesuit Father, +an English peer, a brilliant diplomatist on the point of setting out on +a foreign mission, a Circe the magic of whose voice and eyes is +responsible for most of the mischief which goes on, Anglican priests, a +college professor, collegiates, at least one raving maniac, beautiful +young girls and representative Yankee men and women. From this company, +most of whom conduct themselves in manner which fails to prepossess us, +Mrs. Beauchamp Brown alone emerges with a distinct identity. Her zealous +adherence to herself, her unconsciousness of weakness or defect even in +the most rashly-chosen part, are good points. The writer allows her to +express herself without too elaborate canvassing of her character and +motives. When the Fifth Avenue Hotel is burning the great lady is amazed +at such behavior, and shrieks peremptory orders to have the fire put out +_immediately_. When she reaches Plum Island, and is transferred from the +steamboat to the skiff which is to carry her ashore, she is "angrily +scared at the seething waters and the grinning rocks." + +"'Man! this thing is full of water: my feet are almost in it!' shrieked +Mrs. Beauchamp Brown as the gundalow lurched and heaved shoreward. + +"The White man looked over his shoulder, and slowly wrinkled his +leathern cheeks into an encouraging smile. 'Like ter near killed a +woggin,' replied he sententiously. 'Will be ashore in a brace of +shakes.'" + +The Yankees are all capitally done, and the "local color" is excellent. +There is not much to be said for the other characters in the book. +Margaret, who is supposed to be irresistible, raises surprise if not +disgust. Her conversation is crude and infelicitous, her conduct +excessively ill-bred. Indeed, for a company of so-called elegant people, +the talk and doings are singularly bald and crude. Even the Jesuit +Father seems to have a dull perception about nice points of good +behavior, and we have a doubt which amounts to an active suspicion as to +the reality of the writer's experience of Jesuitical casuistry and +social wiles. Certainly, Father Williams fails to make us understand how +his order could have ever been considered dangerous. It seems a pity +that the author should have tried such a wide survey of human nature. +Her talent does not carry her into melodrama, to say nothing of tragedy, +but there are many evidences in her book of very fair powers in the way +of light comedy. + + + Studies in German Literature. By Bayard Taylor. With an + Introduction by George H. Boker.--Critical Essays and Literary + Notes. By Bayard Taylor. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. + +It would be impossible to name a better representative of American men +of letters, if there be such a class, than the late Bayard Taylor. We +have a few writers, easily counted, who are distinctively poets, +novelists or essayists; but the common ambition is to unite these titles +and add a few others--to enjoy, in fact, a free range over the whole +field of literature, exclusive only of the most arid or least attractive +portions. Taylor's versatility exceeded that of all his competitors: he +attempted a greater variety of tasks than any of them, and he failed in +none. And his writings, while so diverse, have a distinct and pervading +flavor. Though he travelled so extensively, imbibed so deeply of foreign +literature, and wrote so much on foreign themes, his tone of thought and +sentiment not only remained thoroughly American, but was always +suggestive of his early life and surroundings, his quiet Pennsylvania +home and its sober influences. His pictures of these are not the least +noteworthy portion of what he has given to the world, but in all his +productions the same spirit is visible--not flashing and impulsive, but +habituated to just conceptions and exact performance; not to be startled +or dazed by novelties, but capable of measuring and assimilating +whatever best suited it. On the whole, his nature, while retaining its +individuality and poise, was rather a highly receptive than a strongly +original one. Its growth was a steady accretion of knowledge, ideas, +experiences and aptitudes, without the exhibition of that power +which in minds of a rarer order reacts upon impressions with +a transforming influence. There is more appearance of freedom, of +spontaneousness--paradoxical as this may seem--in his translation of +_Faust_ than in any of his other performances, while deliberate, +conscientious workmanship is a leading characteristic of all, not +excepting the short notices of books reprinted from the New York +_Tribune_ in one of the volumes now before us. The matter of both these +volumes is chiefly critical, and the characterizations of men as well as +of books are always discriminating, generally just, often happily +expressed, but seldom vivid. The articles on Rückert, Thackeray and +Weimar, which deal chiefly with personal reminiscences, are especially +pleasant reading; but the lectures on Goethe, however well they may have +served their immediate purpose, contain little that called for +preservation, being neither profound nor stimulating. While, however, +these volumes may add nothing to their author's reputation, they are no +unworthy memorials of a laborious, well-spent and happy life, of a +nature as kindly as it was earnest and sincere, and of talents that had +neither been buried nor misapplied. We find in a short paper on Lord +Houghton the remark that "there is an important difference between the +impression which a man makes who has avowedly done the utmost of which +he is capable, and that which springs from the exercise of genuine gifts +not so stimulated to their highest development." It cannot be doubted +that the former description is that which would apply to Taylor himself, +and probably with more force than to almost any of his contemporaries. + + + The American Art Review, Nos. 8 and 9. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. + +These two numbers of the _Art Review_ contain some critical writing of a +really high order in a couple of papers by Mrs. M. G. Van Rensselaer, +entitled "Artist and Amateur." They present an earnest plea for the +pursuit of culture for its own sake in this country. Taking "culture" in +the true sense of the word, as the opening and development of all the +faculties, a positive and electric not a negative and apathetic force, +Mrs. Van Rensselaer points out that it is not the natural birthright of +a select few, but is to be won by none without hard endeavor. The +endeavor, the intelligence and, to a certain extent, the desire for +culture, already exist here, but are constantly misapplied, and this, as +Mrs. Van Rensselaer aims to prove, through a misconception of the +relative positions of artist and amateur. All instruction is directed +toward execution, which is the artist's province, instead of +understanding and appreciation, which are the gifts of culture. The +effort to make the execution keep pace with the teaching confines the +latter, for the majority of learners, to the lowest mechanical rules, +leaving intellectual cultivation altogether to artists. Mrs. Van +Rensselaer argues that the time and money spent by young ladies of +slender talent in learning to paint pottery would, if given to study of +the principles of technique and of the history and aims of art, leave +them with more trained perceptions, an intelligent delight in works of +art and a wider intellectual range. She does not confine the application +of her ideas to painting, but extends it to other arts, making the aim +in music the substitution of appreciative listeners for mediocre +performers. Another interesting article, which the two numbers before us +divide between them, is one on Elihu Vedder by Mr. W. H. Bishop. It does +not force any very definite conclusions upon the reader, but it gives +him some idea of the career of this much talked-of painter, and is +finely illustrated with an etching of _The Sea-Serpent_ by Mr. Shoff, an +unusually strong full-page engraving of _The Sleeping Girl_ by Mr. +Linton, and a very tender and beautiful little cut by Mr. Kruell of _The +Venetian Model_. + + + + +_Books Received._ + + +The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By Edward +Gibbon. With Notes by Dean Milman, M. Guizot and Dr. William Smith. 6 +vols. New York: Harper & Brothers. + +Health and Healthy Homes. By George Wilson, M. A., M. D. With Notes and +Additions by J. G. Richardson, M. D. Philadelphia: Presley Blakiston. + +A Model Superintendent: A Sketch of the Life, Character and Methods of +Work of Henry P. Haven. By H. Clay Trumbull. New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +Monsieur Lecoq. From the French of Émile Gaboriau. Boston: Estes & +Lauriat. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular +Literature and Science, Vol. 26, October, 1880, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + +***** This file should be named 29395-8.txt or 29395-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/9/29395/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 26, October, 1880 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 13, 2009 [EBook #29395] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><span class="smcap">Lippincott's Magazine</span></h1> + +<h4>OF</h4> + +<h2><i>POPULAR LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.</i></h2> + +<h3>OCTOBER, 1880.</h3> + +<h4>Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by <span class="smcap">J. B. +Lippincott & Co.</span>, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at +Washington.</h4> + + +<p class="notes">Transcriber's notes: Minor typos have been corrected. Table of contents has been +generated for HTML version.</p> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#A_CHAPTER_OF_AMERICAN_EXPLORATION"><b>A CHAPTER OF AMERICAN EXPLORATION.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#ADAM_AND_EVE"><b>ADAM AND EVE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#SEVEN_WEEKS_A_MISSIONARY"><b>SEVEN WEEKS A MISSIONARY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#FINDELKIND_OF_MARTINSWAND_A_CHILDS_STORY"><b>FINDELKIND OF MARTINSWAND: A CHILD'S STORY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#HORSE-RACING_IN_FRANCE"><b>HORSE-RACING IN FRANCE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#FROM_FAR"><b>FROM FAR.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#AMERICANS_ABROAD"><b>AMERICANS ABROAD.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#GLIMPSES_OF_PORTUGAL_AND_THE_PORTUGUESE"><b>GLIMPSES OF PORTUGAL AND THE PORTUGUESE.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#A_GRAVEYARD_IDYL"><b>A GRAVEYARD IDYL.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#STUDIES_IN_THE_SLUMS"><b>STUDIES IN THE SLUMS.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#UNDER_THE_GRASSES"><b>UNDER THE GRASSES.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#KITTY"><b>"KITTY."</b></a><br /> +<a href="#A_GREAT_SINGER"><b>A GREAT SINGER.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP"><b>OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY"><b>LITERATURE OF THE DAY.</b></a><br /> +<a href="#Books_Received"><b>BOOKS RECEIVED.</b></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_CHAPTER_OF_AMERICAN_EXPLORATION" id="A_CHAPTER_OF_AMERICAN_EXPLORATION"></a>A CHAPTER OF AMERICAN EXPLORATION.</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image01.jpg" width="500" height="377" alt="GLEN CAÑON." title="" /> +<span class="caption">GLEN CAÑON.</span> +</div> + +<p>Those adventurous gentlemen who derive exhilaration from peril, and +extract febrifuge for the high pressure of a too exuberant constitution +from the difficulties of the Alps, cannot find such peaks as the +Aiguille Verte and the Matterhorn, with their friable and precipitous +cliffs, among the Rocky Mountains. The geological processes have been +gentler in evolving the latter than the former, and in the proper season +summits not less elevated nor less splendid or comprehensive than that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span>of the Matterhorn, upon which so many lives have been defiantly wasted, +may be attained without any great degree of danger or fatigue. All but +the apex may often be reached in the saddle. The <i>bergschrund</i> with its +fragile lip of ice, the <i>crevasse</i> with its treacherous bridges, and the +<i>avalanche</i> which an ill-timed footstep starts with overwhelming havoc, +do not threaten the explorer of the Western mountains; and ordinarily he +passes from height to height—from the base with its wreaths of +evergreens to the zone where vegetation is limited to the gnarled +dwarf-pine, from the foot-hills to the basin of the crisp alpine lake +far above the life-limits—without once having to scale a cliff, +supposing, of course, that he has chosen the best path. The trail may be +narrow at times, with nothing between it and a gulf, and it may be +pitched at an angle that compels the use of "all-fours;" but with +patience and discretion the ultimate peak is conquered without +rope-ladder or ice-axe, and the vastness of the world below, gray and +cold at some hours, and at others lighted with a splendor which words +cannot transcribe, is revealed to the adventurer as satisfaction for his +toil.</p> + +<p>But, though what may be called the pure mountain-peaks do not entail the +same perils and difficulties as the members of the Alpine Club discover +in Italy, France, Switzerland and Germany, the volcanic cones and +cañon-walls of the West have an unstable verticality which, when it is +not absolutely insurmountable, is more difficult than the top of the +Matterhorn itself; and though the various expeditions under Wheeler, +Powell, King and Hayden have not had Aiguilles Vertes to oppose them, +they have been confronted by obstacles which could only be overcome by +as much courage as certain of the clubmen have required in their most +celebrated exploits. Indeed, nothing in the journals of the Alpine Club +compares in the interest of the narrative or the peril of the +undertaking with Major Powell's exploration of the cañons of the +Colorado, which, though its history has become familiar to many readers +through the official report, gathers significance in contrast with all +other Western expeditions, and stands out as an achievement of +extraordinary daring.</p> + +<p>The Colorado is formed by the junction of the Grand and Green Rivers. +The Grand has its source in the Rocky Mountains five or six miles west +of Long's Peak, and the Green heads in the Wind River Mountains near +Fremont's Peak. Uniting in the Colorado, they end as turbid floods in +the Gulf of California, a goal which they reach through gorges set deep +in the bosom of the earth and bordered by a region where the mutations +of Nature are in visible process. In all the world there is no other +river like this. The phenomenal in form predominates: the water has +grooved a channel for itself over a mile below the surrounding country, +which is a desert uninhabited and uninhabitable, terraced with long +series of cliffs or <i>mesa</i>-fronts, verdureless, voiceless and +unbeautiful. It is a land of soft, crumbling soil and parched rock, dyed +with strange colors and broken into fantastic shapes. Nature is titanic +and mad: the sane and alleviating beauty of fertility is displaced by an +arid and inanimate desolateness, which glows with alien splendor in +evanescent conditions of the atmosphere, but which in those moments when +the sun casts a fatuous light upon it is more oppressive in its +influence upon the observer than when the blaze of high noon exposes all +of its unyielding harshness. To the feeling of desolation which comes +over one in such a region as this a quickened sense and apprehension of +the supernatural are added, and we seem to be invaders of a border-land +between the solid earth and phantasy. Nature is distraught; and so much +has man subordinated and possessed her elsewhere that here, where +existence is defeated by the absolute impossibility of sustenance, a +poignant feeling of her imperfection steals over us and weighs upon the +mind.</p> + +<p>Perhaps no portion of the earth's surface is more irremediably sterile, +none more hopelessly lost to human occupation, and yet, an eminent +geologist has said, it is the wreck of a region once rich and beautiful, +changed and impoverished by the deepening of its draining streams—the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>most striking and suggestive example of over-drainage of which we have +any knowledge. Though valueless to the agriculturist, dreaded and +shunned by the emigrant, the miner and the trapper, the Colorado plateau +is a paradise to the geologist, for nowhere else are the secrets of the +earth's structure so fully revealed as here. Winding through it is the +profound chasm within which the river flows from three thousand to six +thousand feet below the general level for five hundred miles in +unimaginable solitude and gloom, and the perpendicular crags and +precipices which imprison the stream exhibit with, unusual clearness the +zoological and physical history of the land.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 326px;"> +<img src="images/image04.jpg" width="326" height="500" alt="SWALLOW CAVE, GREEN RIVER." title="" /> +<span class="caption">SWALLOW CAVE, GREEN RIVER.</span> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 377px;"> +<img src="images/image05.jpg" width="377" height="500" alt="INDIANS NEAR FLAMING GORGE (SAI-AR AND FAMILY)." title="" /> +<span class="caption">INDIANS NEAR FLAMING GORGE (SAI-AR AND FAMILY).</span> +</div> + +<p>It was this chasm, with its cliffs of unparalleled magnitude and its +turbulent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> waters, that Major Powell explored, and no chapter of Western +adventure is more interesting than his experiences. His starting-point +was Green River City, Wyoming Territory, which is now reached from the +East by the Union Pacific Railway. On the second morning out from Omaha +the passengers find themselves whirling through sandy yellowish gullies, +and, having completed their toilettes amid the flying dust, they emerge +at about eight o'clock in a basin of gigantic and abnormal forms, upon +which lie bands of dull gold, pink, orange and vermilion. In some +instances the massive sandstones have curious architectural +resemblances, as if they had been designed and scaled on a +draughting-board, but they have been so oddly worked upon by the +elements, by the attrition of their own disintegrated particles and the +intangible carving of water, that while one block stands out as a castle +embattled on a lofty precipice, another looms up in the quivering air +with a quaint likeness to something neither human nor divine. This is +where the Overland traveller makes his first acquaintance with those +erosions which are a characterizing element of Western scenery. A broad +stream flows easily through the valley, and acquires a vivid emerald hue +from the shales in its bed, whence its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> name is derived. Under one of +the highest buttes a small town of newish wooden buildings is scattered, +and this is ambitiously designated Green River City, which, if for +nothing else, is memorable to the tourist for the excellence of the +breakfast which the tavern-keeper serves.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image06.jpg" width="500" height="368" alt="INDIAN LODGE NEAR FLAMING GORGE." title="" /> +<span class="caption">INDIAN LODGE NEAR FLAMING GORGE.</span> +</div> + +<p>But it was from here, on May 28, 1869, that Major Powell started down +the cañon on that expedition from which the few miners, stock-raisers +and tradespeople who saw his departure never expected to see him return +alive. His party consisted of nine men—J.C. Sumner and William H. Dunn, +both of whom had been trappers and guides in the Rocky Mountains; +Captain Powell, a veteran of the civil war; Lieutenant Bradley, also of +the army; O. G. Howland, formerly a printer and country editor, who had +become a hunter; Seneca Howland; Frank Goodman; Andrew Hall, a Scotch +boy; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> "Billy" Hawkins, the cook, who had been a soldier, a teamster +and a trapper. These were carefully selected for their reputed courage +and powers of endurance. The boats in which they travelled were four in +number, and were built upon a model which, as far as possible, combined +strength to resist the rocks with lightness for portages and protection +against the over-wash of the waves. They were divided into three +compartments, oak being the material used in three and pine in the +fourth. The three larger ones were each twenty-one feet long: the other +was sixteen feet long, and was constructed for speed in rowing. +Sufficient food was taken to last ten months, with plenty of ammunition +and tools for building cabins and repairing the boats, besides various +scientific instruments.</p> + +<p>Thus equipped and in single file, the expedition left Green River City +behind and pulled into the shadows of the phenomenal rocks in the early +morning of that May day of 1869. During the first few days they had no +serious mishap: they lost an oar, broke a barometer-tube and +occasionally struck a bar. All around them abounded examples of that +natural architecture which is seen from the passing train at the +"City"—weird statuary, caverns, pinnacles and cliffs, dyed gray and +buff, red and brown, blue and black—all drawn in horizontal strata like +the lines of a painter's brush. Mooring the boats and ascending the +cliffs after making camp, they saw the sun go down over a vast landscape +of glittering rock. The shadows fell in the valleys and gulches, and at +this hour the lights became higher and the depths deeper. The Uintah +Mountains stretched out in the south, thrusting their peaks into the sky +and shining as if ensheathed with silver. The distant pine forests had +the bluish impenetrability of a clear night-sky, and pink clouds floated +in motionless suspense until, with a final burst of splendor, the light +expired.</p> + +<p>At the end of sixty-two miles they reached the mouth of Flaming Gorge, +near which some hunters and Indians are settled. Flaming Gorge is a +cañon bounded by perpendicular bluffs, banded with red and yellow to a +height of fifteen hundred feet, and the water flowing through it is a +positive malachite in color, crossed and edged with bars of glistening +white sand. It leads into Red Cañon, and in 1869 it was the gateway to a +region which was almost wholly unknown. An old Indian endeavored to +deter Major Powell from his purpose. He held his hands above his head, +with his arms vertical, and, looking between them to the sky, said, +"Rocks h-e-a-p, h-e-a-p high; the water go h-oo-woogh; water-pony (boat) +heap buck. Water catch 'em, no see 'em squaw any more, no see 'em Injin +any more, no see 'em pappoose any more." The prophecy was not +encouraging, and with some anxiety the explorers left the last vestige +of civilization behind them. Below the gorge they ran through Horseshoe +Cañon, which describes an elongated letter U in the mountains, and +several portages became necessary. The cliffs increased a thousand feet +in height, and in many places the water completely filled the channel +between them; but occasionally the cañon opened into a little park, from +the grassy carpet of which sprang crimson flowers on the stems of +pear-shaped cactus-plants, patches of blue and yellow blossoms, and a +fragrant <i>Spiræa</i>.</p> + +<p>As often as a rapid was approached Major Powell stood on the deck of the +leading boat to examine it, and if he could see a clear passage between +the rocks he gave orders to go ahead, but if the channel was barricaded +he signalled the other boats to pull ashore, and landing himself he +walked along the edge of the cañon for further examination. If still no +channel could be found, the boats were lowered to the head of the falls +and let down by ropes secured to the stem and stern, or when this was +impracticable both the cargoes and the boats were carried by the men +beyond the point of difficulty. When it was decided to run the rapids +the greatest danger was encountered in the first wave at the foot of the +falls, which gathered higher and higher until it broke. If the boat +struck it the instant after it broke she cut through it, and the men had +all they could do to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> keep themselves from being washed overboard. If in +going over the falls she was caught by some side-current and borne +against the wave "broadside on," she was capsized—an accident that +happened more than once, without fatal results, however, as the +compartments served as buoys and the men clung to her and were dragged +through the waves until quieter water was reached. Where these rapids +occur the channel is usually narrowed by rocks which have tumbled from +the cliffs or have been washed in by lateral streams; but immediately +above them a bay of smooth water may usually be discovered where a +landing can be made with ease.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<img src="images/image09.jpg" width="386" height="500" alt="INDIANS GAMBLING." title="" /> +<span class="caption">INDIANS GAMBLING.</span> +</div> + +<p>In such a bay Major Powell landed one day, and, seeing one of the rear +boats making for the shore after he had given his signal, he supposed +the others would follow her example, and walked along the side of the +cañon-wall to look for the fall of which a loud roar gave some +premonition. But a treacherous eddy carried the boat manned by the two +Howlands and Goodman into the current, and a moment later she +disappeared over the unseen falls. The first fall was not great—not +more than ten or twelve feet—but below the river sweeps down forty or +fifty feet through a channel filled with spiked rocks which break it +into whirlpools and frothy crests. Major Powell scrambled around a crag +just in time to see the boat strike<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> one of these rocks, and, rebounding +from the shock, careen and fill the open compartment with water. The +oars were dashed out of the hands of two of the crew as she swung around +and was carried down the stream with great velocity, and immediately +after she struck another rock amidships, which broke her in two and +threw the men into the water. The larger part of the wreck floated +buoyantly, and seizing it the men supported themselves by it until a few +hundred feet farther down they came to a second fall, filled with huge +boulders, upon which the wreck was dashed to pieces, and the men and the +fragments were again carried out of Major Powell's sight. He struggled +along the scant foothold afforded by the cañon-wall, and coming suddenly +to a bend saw one of the men in a whirlpool below a large rock, to which +he was clinging with all possible tenacity. It was Goodman, and a little +farther on was Howland tossed upon a small island, with his brother +stranded upon a rock some distance below. Howland struck out for Goodman +with a pole, by means of which he relieved him from his precarious +position, and very soon the wrecked crew stood together, bruised, shaken +and scared, but not disabled. A swift, dangerous river was on each side +of them and a fall below them. It was now a problem how to release them +from this imprisonment. Sumner volunteered, and in one of the other +boats started out from above the island, and with skilful paddling +landed upon it. Together with the three shipwrecked men he then pushed +up stream until all stood up to their necks in water, when one of them +braced himself against a rock and held the boat while the three others +jumped into her: the man on the rock followed, and all four then pulled +vigorously for the shore, which they reached in safety. Many years +before an adventurous trapper and his party had been wrecked here and +several lives had been lost. Major Powell named the spot Disaster Falls.</p> + +<p>The cliffs are so high that the twilight is perpetual, and the sky seems +like a flat roof pressed across them. As the worn men stretched +themselves out in their blankets<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> they saw a bright star that appeared +to rest on the very verge of the eastern cliff, and then to float from +its resting-place on the rock over the cañon. At first it was like a +jewel set on the brink of the cliff, and as it moved out from the rock +they wondered that it did not fall. It did seem to descend in a gentle +curve, and the other stars were apparently in the cañon, as if the sky +was spread over the gulf, resting on either wall and swayed down by its +own weight.</p> + +<p>Sixteen days after leaving Green River City the explorers reached the +end of the Cañon of Lodore, which is nearly twenty-four miles long. The +walls were never less than two thousand feet high except near the foot. +They are very irregular, standing in perpendicular or overhanging cliffs +here, terraced there, or receding in steep slopes broken by many +side-gulches. The highest point of the wall is twenty-seven hundred +feet, but the peaks a little distance off are a thousand feet higher. +Yellow pines, nut pines, firs and cedars stand in dense forests on the +Uintah Mountains, and clinging to moving rocks they have come down the +walls to the water's edge between Flaming Gorge and Echo Park. The red +sandstones are lichened over, delicate mosses grow in the moist places +and ferns festoon the walls.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 313px;"> +<img src="images/image12.jpg" width="313" height="500" alt="HORSESHOE CAÑON." title="" /> +<span class="caption">HORSESHOE CAÑON.</span> +</div> + +<p>A few days later they were upset again, losing oars, guns and +barometers, and on July 18th they had only enough provisions left for +two months, though they had supplied themselves with quantities which, +barring accidents, should have lasted ten months. On July 19th the Grand +Cañon of the Colorado became visible, and from an eminence they could +follow its course for miles and catch glimpses of the river. The Green, +down which they had come so far, bears in from the north-west through a +narrow, winding gorge. The Grand comes in from the north-east through a +channel which from the explorer's point of view seems bottomless. Away +to the west are lines of cliffs and ledges of rock, with grotesque forms +intervening. In the east a chain of eruptive mountains is visible, the +slopes covered with pines, the summits coated with snow and the gulches<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> +flanked by great crags. Wherever the men looked there were rocks, deep +gorges in which the rivers were lost under cliffs, towers and pinnacles, +thousands of strangely-carved forms, and mountains blending with the +clouds. They passed the junction of the Grand and Green, and on July +21st they were on the Colorado itself. The walls are nearly vertical, +and the river is broad and swift, but free from rocks and falls. From +the edge of the water to the brink of the cliffs is nearly two thousand +feet, and the cliffs are reflected on the quiet surface until it seems +to the travellers that there is a vast abyss below them. But the +tranquillity is not lasting: a little way below this space of majestic +calm it was necessary to make three portages in succession, the distance +being less than three-quarters of a mile, with a fall of seventy-five +feet. In the evening Major Powell sat upon a rock by the edge of the +river to look at the water and listen to its roar. Heavy shadows settled +in the cañon as the sun passed behind the cliffs, and no glint of light +remained on the crags above, but the waves were crested with a white +that seemed luminous. A great fall broke at the foot of a block of +limestone fifty feet high, and rolled back in immense billows. Over the +sunken rocks the flood was heaped up into mounds and even cones. The +tumult was extraordinary. At a point where the rocks were very near the +surface the water was thrown up ten or fifteen feet, and fell back in +gentle curves as in a fountain.</p> + +<p>On August 3d the party traversed a cañon of diversified features. The +walls were still vertical in places, especially near the bends, and the +river sweeping round the capes had undermined the cliffs. Sometimes the +rocks overarched: again curious narrow glens were found. The men +explored the glens, in one of which they discovered a natural stairway +several hundred feet high leading to a spring which burst out from an +overhanging cliff among aspens and willows, while along the edges of the +brooklet there were oaks and other rich vegetation. There were also many +side-cañons with walls nearer to each other above than below, giving +them the character of grottoes; and there were carved walls, arches, +alcoves and monuments, to all of which the collective name of Glen Cañon +was given.</p> + +<p>One morning the surveyors came to a point where the river filled the +entire channel and the walls were sheer to the water's edge. They saw a +fall below, and in order to inspect it they pulled up against one of the +cliffs, in which was a little shelf or crevice a few feet above their +heads. One man stood on the deck of the boat while another climbed over +his shoulders into this insecure foothold, along which they passed until +it became a shelf which was broken by a chasm some yards farther on. +They then returned to the boat and pulled across the stream for some +logs which had lodged on the opposite shore, and with which it was +intended to bridge the gulf. It was no easy work hauling the wood along +the fissure, but with care and patience they accomplished it, and +reached a point in the cliffs from which the falls could be seen. It +seemed practicable to lower the boats over the stormy waters by holding +them with ropes from the cliffs; and this was done successfully, the +incident illustrating how laborious their progress sometimes became.</p> + +<p>The scenery was of unending interest. The rocks were of many +colors—white, gray, pink and purple, with saffron tints. At an elbow of +the river the water has excavated a semicircular chamber which would +hold fifty thousand people, and farther on the cliffs are of +softly-tinted marble lustrously polished by the waves. At one place +Major Powell walked for more than a mile on a marble pavement fretted +with strange devices and embossed with a thousand different patterns. +Through a cleft in the wall the sun shone on this floor, which gleamed +with iridescent beauty. Exploring the cleft, Major Powell found a +succession of pools one above another, and each cold and clear, though +the water of the river was a dull red. Then a bend in the cañon +disclosed a massive abutment that seemed to be set with a million +brilliant gems as they approached it, and every one wondered. As they +came closer to it they saw many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span> springs bursting from the rock high +overhead, and the spray in the sunshine forms the gems which glitter in +the walls, at the base of which is a profusion of mosses, ferns and +flowers. To the place above where the three portages were necessary the +name of Cataract Cañon was given; and they were now well into the Grand +Cañon itself. The walls were more than a mile in height, and, as Major +Powell says, a vertical altitude like this is not easily pictured. +"Stand on the south steps of the Treasury Building in Washington and +look down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol Park, and measure this +distance overhead, and imagine cliffs to extend to that altitude, and +you will understand what I mean," the explorer has written; "or stand at +Canal street in New York and look up Broadway to Grace Church, and you +have about the distance; or stand at the Lake street bridge in Chicago +and look down to the Central Dépôt, and you have it again." A thousand +feet of the distance is through granite crags, above which are slopes +and perpendicular cliffs to the summit. The gorge is black and narrow +below, red and gray and flaring above.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;"> +<img src="images/image15.jpg" width="393" height="500" alt="THE HEART OF CATARACT CAÑON." title="" /> +<span class="caption">THE HEART OF CATARACT CAÑON.</span> +</div> + +<p>Down these gloomy depths the expedition constantly glided, ever +listening and ever peering ahead, for the cañon is winding and they +could not see more than a few hundred yards in advance. The view<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> +changed every minute as some new crag or pinnacle or glen or peak became +visible; but the men were fully engaged listening for rapids and looking +for rocks. Navigation was exceedingly difficult, and it was often +necessary to hold the boats from ledges in the cliffs as the falls were +passed. The river was very deep and the cañon very narrow. The waters +boiled and rushed in treacherous currents, which sometimes whirled the +boats into the stream or hurried them against the walls. The oars were +useless, and each crew labored for its own preservation as its frail +vessel was spun round like a top or borne with the speed of a locomotive +this way and that.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 241px;"> +<img src="images/image16.jpg" width="241" height="500" alt="MARY'S VEIL, A SIDE CAÑON." title="" /> +<span class="caption">MARY'S VEIL, A SIDE CAÑON.</span> +</div> + +<p>While they were thus uncontrollable the boats entered a rapid, and one +of them was driven in shore, but as there was no foothold for a portage +the men pushed into the stream again. The next minute a reflex wave +filled the open compartment and water-logged her: breaker after breaker +rolled over her, and one capsized her. The men were thrown out, but they +managed to cling to her, and as they were swept down the other boats +rescued them.</p> + +<p>Heavy clouds rolled in the cañon, filling it with gloom. Sometimes they +hung above from wall to wall and formed a roof: then a gust of wind from +a side-cañon made a rift in them and the blue heavens were revealed, or +they dispersed in patches which settled on the crags, while puffs of +vapor issued out of the smaller gulches, and occasionally formed bars +across the cañon, one above another, each opening a different vista. +When they discharged their rains little rills first trickled down the +cliff, and these soon became brooks: the brooks grew into creeks and +tumbled down through innumerable cascades, which added their music to +the roar of the river. As soon as the rain ceased rills, brooks, creeks +and cascades disappeared, their birth and death being equally sudden.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 383px;"> +<img src="images/image17.jpg" width="383" height="500" alt="LIGHTHOUSE ROCK IN THE CAÑON OF DESOLATION." title="" /> +<span class="caption">LIGHTHOUSE ROCK IN THE CAÑON OF DESOLATION.</span> +</div> + +<p>Desolate and inaccessible as the cañon is, many ruins of buildings are +found perched upon ledges in the stupendous cliffs. In some instances +the mouths of caves have been walled in, and the evidences all point to +a race for ever dreading and fortifying itself against an invader. Why +did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> these people chose their embattlements so far away from all +tillable land and sources of subsistence? Major Powell suggests this +solution of the problem: For a century or two after the settlement of +Mexico many expeditions were sent into the country now comprised in +Arizona and New Mexico for the purpose of bringing the town-building +people under the dominion of the Spanish government. Many of their +villages were destroyed, and the inhabitants fled to regions at that +time unexplored; and there are traditions among the existing Pueblos +that the cañons were these lands. The Spanish conquerors had a monstrous +greed for gold and a lust for saving souls. "Treasure they must have—if +not on earth why, then, in heaven—and when they failed to find heathen +temples bedecked with silver they propitiated Heaven by seizing the +heathen themselves. There is yet extant a copy of a record made by a +heathen artist to express his conception of the demands of the +conquerors. In one part of the picture we have a lake, and near by +stands a priest pouring water on the head of a native. On the other side +a poor Indian has a cord around his throat. Lines run from these two +groups to a central figure, a man with a beard and full Spanish panoply. +The interpretation of the picture-writing is this: 'Be baptized as this +saved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> heathen, or be hanged as this damned heathen.' Doubtless some of +the people preferred a third alternative, and rather than be baptized or +hanged they chose to be imprisoned within these cañon-walls."</p> + +<p>The rains and the accidents in the rapids had seriously reduced the +commissary by this time, and the provisions left were more or less +injured. The bacon was uneatable, and had to be thrown away: the flour +was musty, and the saleratus was lost overboard. On August 17th the +party had only enough food remaining for ten days' use, and though they +hoped that the worst places had been passed, the barometers were broken, +and they did not know what descent they had yet to make. The canvas +which they had brought with them for covering from Green River City was +rotten, there was not one blanket apiece for the men, and more than half +the party were hatless. Despite their hopes that the greatest obstacles +had been overcome, however, on the morning of August 27th they reached a +place which appeared more perilous than any they had so far passed. They +landed on one side of the river, and clambered over the granite +pinnacles for a mile or two without seeing any way by which they could +lower the boats. Then they crossed to the other side and walked along +the top of a crag. In his eagerness to reach a point where he could see +the roaring fall below, Major Powell went too far, and was caught at a +point where he could neither advance nor retreat: the river was four +hundred feet below, and he was suspended in front of the cliff with one +foot on a small projecting rock and one hand fixed in a little crevice. +He called for help, and the men passed him a line, but he could not let +go of the rock long enough to seize it. While he felt his hold becoming +weaker and expected momentarily to drop into the cañon, the men went to +the boats and obtained three of the largest oars. The blade of one of +them was pushed into the crevice of a rock beyond him in such a manner +that it bound him across the body to the wall, and another oar was fixed +so that he could stand upon it and walk out of the difficulty. He +breathed again, but had felt that cold air which seems to fan one when +death is near.</p> + +<p>Another hour was spent in examining the river, but a good view of it +could not be obtained, and they once more went to the opposite side. +After some hard work among the cliffs they discovered that the lateral +streams had washed a large number of boulders into the river, forming a +dam over which the water made a broken fall of about twenty feet, below +which was a rapid beset by huge rocks for two or three hundred yards. +This was bordered on one side by a series of sharp projections of the +cañon-walls, and beyond it was a second fall, ending in another and no +less threatening rapid. At the bottom of the latter an immense slab of +granite projected fully halfway across the river, and upon the inclined +plane which it formed the water rolled with all the momentum gained in +the falls and rapids above, and then swept over to the left. The men +viewed the prospect with dismay, but Major Powell had an insatiable +desire to complete the exploration. He decided that it was possible to +let the boats down over the first fall, then to run near the right cliff +to a point just above the second fall, where they could pull into a +little chute, and from the foot of that across the stream to avoid the +great rock below. The men shook their heads, and after supper—a sorry +supper of unleavened flour and water, coffee and rancid bacon, eaten on +the rocks—the elder Howland endeavored to dissuade the leader from his +purpose, and, failing to do so, told him that he with his brother and +Dunn would go no farther. That night Major Powell did not sleep at all, +but paced to and fro, now measuring the remaining provisions, then +contemplating the rushing falls and rapids. Might not Howland be right? +Would it be wise to venture into that maëlstrom which was white during +the darkest hours of the night? At one time he almost concluded to leave +the river and to strike out across the table-lands for the Mormon +settlements. But this trip had been the object of his life for many +years, looked forward to and dreamed of, and to leave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> the exploration +unfinished when he was so near the end, to acknowledge defeat, was more +than he could reconcile himself to.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/image20.jpg" width="384" height="500" alt="GRANITE WALLS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">GRANITE WALLS.</span> +</div> + +<p>In the morning his brother, Captain Powell, Sumner, Bradley, Hall and +Hawkins promised to remain with him, but the Howlands and Dunn were +fixed in their determination to go no farther. The provisions were +divided, and one of the boats was left with the deserters, who were also +provided with three guns: Howland was also entrusted with duplicate +copies of the records and with some mementos the voyagers desired to +have sent to friends and relatives should they not be heard of again. It +was a solemn parting. The Howlands and Dunn entreated the others not to +go on, telling them that it was obvious madness; but the decision had +been made, and the two boats pushed out into the stream.</p> + +<p>They glided rapidly along the foot of the wall, grazing one large rock, +and then they pulled into the falls and plunged over them. The open +compartment of the major's boat was filled when she struck the first +wave below, but she cut through the upheaval, and by vigorous strokes +was drawn away from the dangerous rock farther down. They were scarcely +a minute in running through the rapids, and found that what had seemed +almost hopeless from above was really<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> less difficult than many other +points on the river. The Rowlands and their companion were now out of +sight, and guns were fired to indicate to them that the passage had been +safely made and to induce them to follow; but no answer came, and after +waiting two hours the descent of the river was resumed.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 302px;"> +<img src="images/image21.jpg" width="302" height="500" alt="CAÑON IN ESCALANTE BASIN." title="" /> +<span class="caption">CAÑON IN ESCALANTE BASIN.</span> +</div> + + +<p>A succession of falls and rapids still had to be overcome, and in the +afternoon the explorers were once more threatened with defeat. A little +stream entered the cañon from the left, and immediately below the river +broke over two falls, beyond which it rose in high waves and subsided in +whirlpools. The boats hugged the left wall for some distance, but when +the men saw that they could not descend on this side they pulled up +stream several hundred yards and crossed to the other. Here there was a +bed of basalt about one hundred feet high, which, disembarking, they +followed, pulling the boats after them by ropes. The major, as usual, +went ahead, and discovered that it would be impossible to lower the +boats from the cliff; but the men had already brought one of them to the +brink of the falls and had secured her by a bight around a crag. The +other boat, in which Bradley had remained, was shooting in and out from +the cliffs with great violence, now straining the line by which she was +held, and now whirling against the rock as if she would dash herself to +pieces. An effort was made to pass another rope to Bradley, but he was +so preoccupied that he did not notice it, and the others saw him take a +knife out of its sheath and step forward to cut the line. He had decided +that it was better to go over the falls with her than to wait for her to +be completely wrecked against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> the rocks. He did not show the least +alarm, and as he leaned over to cut the rope the boat sheered into the +stream, the stern-post broke and he was adrift. With perfect composure +he seized the large scull-oar, placed it in the stern rowlock and pulled +with all his strength, which was considerable, to turn the bow down +stream. After the third stroke she passed over the falls and was +invisible for several seconds, when she reappeared upon a great wave, +dancing high over its crest, then sinking between two vast walls of +water. The men on the cliff held their breath as they watched. Again she +disappeared, and this time was out of sight so long that poor Bradley's +fate seemed settled; but in a moment more something was noticed emerging +from the water farther down the stream: it was the boat, with Bradley +standing on deck and twirling his hat to show that he was safe. He was +spinning round in a whirlpool, however, and Sumner and Powell were sent +along the cliff to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> see if they could help him, while the major and the +others embarked in the remaining boat and passed over the fall. After +reaching the brink they do not remember what happened to them, except +that their boat was upset and that Bradley pulled them out of the water. +Powell and Sumner joined them by climbing along the cliff, and, having +put the boats in order, they once more started down the stream.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 207px;"> +<img src="images/image22.jpg" width="207" height="450" alt="PA-RU-NU-WEAP CAÑON." title="" /> +<span class="caption">PA-RU-NU-WEAP CAÑON.</span> +</div> + + +<p>On the next day, August 29th, three months and five days after leaving +Green River City, they reached the foot of the Grand Cañon of the +Colorado, the passage of which had been of continuous peril and toil, +and on the 30th they ended their exploration at a ranch, from which the +way was easy to Salt Lake City. "Now the danger is over," writes Major +Powell in his diary; "now the toil has ceased; now the gloom has +disappeared; now the firmament is bounded only by the horizon; and what +a vast expanse of constellations can be seen! The river rolls by us in +silent majesty; the quiet of the camp is sweet; our joy is almost +ecstasy. We sit till long after midnight talking of the Grand Cañon, +talking of home, but chiefly talking of the three men who left us. Are +they wandering in those depths, unable to find a way out? are they +searching over the desert-lands above for water? or are they nearing the +settlements?"</p> + +<p>It was about a year afterward that their fate became known. Major Powell +was continuing his explorations, and having passed through Pa-ru-nu-weap +(or Roaring Water) Cañon, he spent some time among the Indians in the +region beyond, from whom he learned that three white men had been +killed the year before. They had come upon the Indian village starving +and exhausted with fatigue, saying that they had descended the Grand +Cañon. They were fed and started on the way to the settlements, but they +had not gone far when an Indian arrived from the east side of the +Colorado and told of some miners who had killed a squaw in a drunken +brawl. He incited the tribe to follow and attack the three whites, who +no doubt were the murderers. Their story of coming down the Grand Cañon +was impossible—no men had ever done that—and it was a falsehood +designed to cover their guilt. Excited by a desire for revenge, a party +stole after them, surrounded them in ambush and filled them with arrows. +This was the tragic end of Dunn and the Rowland brothers.</p> + +<p>Little need be added. The unflinching courage, the quiet persistence and +the inexhaustible zeal of Major Powell enabled him to achieve a +geographical exploit which had been deemed wholly impracticable, and +which in adventurousness puts most of the feats of the Alpine Club in +the shade. But the narrative may derive a further interest from one +other fact concerning this intrepid explorer, whom we have seen standing +at the bow of his boats and guiding them over tempestuous falls, rapids +and whirlpools, soaring among the crags of almost perpendicular +cañon-walls and suspended by his fingers from the rocks four hundred +feet above the level of the river: Major Powell is a one-armed man!</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">William H. Rideing.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ADAM_AND_EVE" id="ADAM_AND_EVE"></a>ADAM AND EVE.</h2> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> + +<p>For an instant every one seemed paralyzed and transfixed in the position +into which upon Jonathan's entrance they had started. Then a sudden rush +was made toward the door, which several of the strongest blocked up, +while Adam called vainly on them to stand aside and give the chance of +more air. Joan flew for water, and Jerrem dashed it over Jonathan.</p> + +<p>There was a minute of anxious watching, and then slowly over Jonathan's +pallid face the signs of returning animation began to creep.</p> + +<p>"Now, stand back—stand back from him, do!" said Adam, fearing the +effect of so many faces crowding near would only serve to further daze +his scared senses.—"What is it, Jonathan? what is it, lad?" he asked, +kneeling down by him.</p> + +<p>Jonathan tried to rise, and Adam motioned for Barnabas Tadd to come and +assist in getting him on his feet.</p> + +<p>"Now, sit down there," said Adam, "and put your lips to this, and then +tell us what's up."</p> + +<p>Jonathan cowered down as he threw a hasty glance round, the meaning of +which was answered by a general "You knaws all of us, Jonathan, don't +ee?"</p> + +<p>"Iss," said Jonathan, breaking into a feeble laugh, "but somehows I'd a +rinned till I'd got 'em all, as I fancied, to my heels, close by."</p> + +<p>"And where are they, then?" said Adam, seizing the opportunity of +getting at the most important fact.</p> + +<p>"Comin' 'long t' roadway, man by man, and straddled on to their horses' +backs. They'm to take 'ee all, dead or livin', sarch by night or day. +Some o' 'em is come all the ways fra Plymouth, vowin' and swearin' +they'll have blid for blid, and that if they can't pitch 'pon he who +fired to kill their man every sawl aboard the Lottery shall swing +gallows-high for un."</p> + +<p>A volley of oaths ran through the room, Joan threw up her arms in +despair, Eve groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>Suddenly there was a movement as if some one was breaking from a +detaining hand. 'Twas Jerrem, who, pushing forward, cried out, "Then +I'll give myself up to wance: nobody sha'n't suffer 'cos o' me. I did +it, and I wasn't afeared to do it, neither, and no more I ain't afeared +to answer for it now."</p> + +<p>The buzz which negatived this offer bespoke the appreciation of Jerrem's +magnanimity.</p> + +<p>Adam alone had taken no part in it: turning, he said sternly, "Do we +risk our lives together, then, to skulk off when danger offers and leave +one to suffer for all? Let's have no more of such idle talk. While +things promised to run smooth you was welcome to the boast of havin' +fired first shot, but now every man aboard fired it; and let he who says +he didn't stand out and say it now."</p> + +<p>"Fair spoke and good sense," said the men.</p> + +<p>"Then off with you, each to the place he thinks safest.—Jerrem and you, +father, must stay here. I shall go to the mill, and, Jonathan, for the +night you'd best come along with me."</p> + +<p>With little visible excitement and but few words the men began to +depart, all of them more or less stupefied by the influence of drink, +which, combined with this unexpected dash to their hopes and overthrow +of their boastings, seemed to rob them of all their energy. They were +ready to do whatever they were asked, go wherever they were told, listen +to all that was said, but anything beyond this was then impossible. They +had no more power of deciding, proposing, arranging for themselves, than +if they had been a flock of sheep warned that a ravenous wolf was near.</p> + +<p>The one necessary action which seemed to have laid hold upon them was +that they must all solemnly shake hands; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> this in many cases they +did over and over again, repeating each time, with a warning nod of the +head, "Well, mate, 'tis a bad job o' it, this," until some of the more +collected felt it necessary to interfere and urge their immediate +departure: then one by one they stole away, leaving the house in +possession of its usual occupants.</p> + +<p>Adam had already been up stairs to get Uncle Zebedee—now utterly +incapable of any thought for himself—safely placed in a secret closet +which was hollowed in the wall behind the bed. Turning to Jerrem as he +came down, he said, "You can manage to stow yourself away; only mind, do +it at once, so that the house is got quiet before they've time to get +here."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Jerrem doggedly, while Joan slid back the seat of the +settle, turned down a flap in the wall, and discovered the hole in which +Jerrem was to lie concealed. "There! there ain't another hidin'-place +like that in all Polperro," she said. "They may send a whole reg'ment o' +sodgers afore a man among 'em 'ull pitch on 'ee there, Jerrem."</p> + +<p>"And that's the reason why I don't want to have it," said Jerrem. "I +don't see why I'm to have the pick and choice, and why Adam's to go off +to where they've only got to search and find."</p> + +<p>"Well, but 'tis as he says," urged Joan. "They may ha' got you in their +eye already. Come, 'tis all settled now," she continued persuasively; +"so get 'longs in with 'ee, like a dear."</p> + +<p>Jerrem gave a look round. Eve was busy clearing the table, Adam was +putting some tobacco into his pouch. He hesitated, then he made a step +forward, then he drew back again, until at last, with visible effort, he +said, "Come, give us yer hand, Adam." With no affectation of cordiality +Adam held out his hand. "Whatever comes, you've spoke up fair for me, +and acted better than most would ha' done, seem' that I've let my tongue +run a bit too fast 'bout you o' late."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't think I've done any more for you than I should ha' done for +either one o' the others," said Adam, not willing to accept a feather's +weight of Jerrem's gratitude. "However," he added, trying to force +himself into a greater show of graciousness, "here's wishin' all may go +well with you, as with all of us!"</p> + +<p>Not over-pleased with this cold reception of his advances, Jerrem turned +hastily round to Joan. "Here, let's have a kiss, Joan," he said.</p> + +<p>"Iss, twenty, my dear, so long as you'll only be quick 'bout it."</p> + +<p>"Eve!"</p> + +<p>"There! nonsense now!" exclaimed Joan, warned by an expression in Adam's +face: "there's no call for no leave-takin' with Eve: her'll be here so +well as you."</p> + +<p>The words, well-intentioned as they were, served as fuel to Adam's +jealous fire, and for a moment he felt that it was impossible to go away +and leave Jerrem behind; but the next instant the very knowledge of that +passing weakness was only urging him to greater self-command, although +the effort it cost him gave a hardness to his voice and a coldness to +his manner. One tender word, and his resolve would be gone—one soft +emotion, and to go would be impossible.</p> + +<p>Eve, on her part, with all her love reawakened, her fears excited and +her imagination sharpened, was wrought up to a pitch of emotion which +each moment grew more and more beyond her control. In her efforts to +keep calm she busied herself in clearing the table and moving to and fro +the chairs, all the time keenly alive to the fact that Joan was hovering +about Adam, suggesting comforts, supplying resources and pouring out a +torrent of wordy hopes and fears. Surely Adam would ask—Joan would +think to give them—one moment to themselves? If not she would demand +it, but before she could speak, boom on her heart came Adam's "Good-bye, +Joan, good-bye." What can she do now? How bear this terrible parting? In +her efforts to control the desire to give vent to her agony her powers +of endurance utterly gave way. A rushing sound as of many waters came +gurgling in her ears, dulling the voice of some one who spoke from far +off.</p> + +<p>"What are they saying?" In vain she tried to catch the words, to speak, +to move: then, gathering up all her strength, with a piercing cry she +tried to break the spell. The room reeled, the ground beneath<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> her gave +way, a hundred voices shrieked good-bye, and with their clamor ringing +in her ears Eve's spirit went down into silence and darkness. Another +minute, and she was again alive to all her misery: Joan was kneeling +beside her, the tears streaming from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What is it? Where's Adam?" exclaimed Eve, starting up.</p> + +<p>"Gone," said Joan: "he said 'twas better to, 'fore you comed to yourself +agen."</p> + +<p>"Gone! and never said a word?" she cried. "Gone! Oh, Joan, how could he? +how could he?"</p> + +<p>"What would 'ee have un do, then?" said Joan sharply. "Bide dallyin' +here to be took by the hounds o' sodgers that's marchin' 'pon us all? +That's fine love, I will say." But suddenly a noise outside made them +both start and stand listening with beating hearts until all again was +still and quiet: then Joan's quick-roused anger failed her, and, +repenting her sharp speech, she threw her arms round Eve's neck, crying, +"Awh, Eve, don't 'ee lets you and me set 'bout quarrellin', my dear, for +if sorrow ain't a-drawin' nigh my name's not Joan Hocken. I never before +felt the same way as I do to-night. My spirits is gived way: my heart +seems to have falled flat down and died within me, and, be doing what I +may, there keeps soundin' in my ears a nickety-knock like the tappin' on +a coffin-lid."</p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> + +<p>Since the night on which Jonathan's arrival had plunged the party +assembled at Zebedee Pascal's into such dismay a week had passed +by—seven days and nights of terror and confusion.</p> + +<p>The determined manner in which the government authorities traced out +each clew and tracked every scent struck terror into the stoutest +hearts, and men who had never before shrunk from danger in any open form +now feared to show their faces, dared not sleep in their own houses, +nor, except by stealth, visit their own families. At dead of night, as +well as in the blaze of day, stealthy descents would be made upon the +place, the houses surrounded and strict search made. One hour the +streets would be deserted, the next every corner bristled with rude +soldiery, flinging insults and imprecations on the feeble old men and +defenceless women, who, panic-stricken, stood about vainly endeavoring +to seem at their ease and keep up a show of indifference.</p> + +<p>One of the first acts had been to seize the Lottery, and orders had been +issued to arrest all or any of her crew, wherever they might be found; +but as yet no trace of them had been discovered. Jerrem and Uncle +Zebedee still lay concealed within the house, and Adam at the mill, +crouched beneath corn-bins, lay covered by sacks and grain, while the +tramp of the soldiers sounded in his ears or the ring of their voices +set his stout heart quaking with fear of discovery. To men whose lives +had been spent out of doors, with the free air of heaven and the fresh +salt breeze of the sea constantly sweeping over them, toil and hardship +were pastimes compared to this inactivity; and it was little to be +wondered at that for one and all the single solace left seemed drink. +Drink deadened their restlessness, benumbed their energies, made them +forget their dangers, sleep through their durance. So that even Adam +could not always hold out against a solace which helped to shorten the +frightful monotony of those weary days, dragged out for the most time in +solitude and darkness. With no occupation, no resources, no companion, +ever dwelling on self and viewing each action, past and present, by the +light of an exaggerated (often a distorted) vision, Adam grew irritable, +morose, suspicious.</p> + +<p>Why hadn't Joan come? Surely there couldn't be anything to keep Eve +away? And if so, might they not send a letter, a message or some token +to show him that he was still in their thoughts? In vain did Mrs. Tucker +urge the necessity of a caution hitherto unknown: in vain did she repeat +the stories brought of footsteps dogged, and houses watched so that +their inmates dare not run the smallest risk for fear of its leading to +detection. Adam turned a deaf ear to all she said, sinking at last down +to the conclusion that he could endure such suspense no longer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> and, +come what might, must the next day steal back home and satisfy himself +how things were going on. The only concession to her better judgment +which Mrs. Tucker could gain was his promise to wait until she had been +in to Polperro to reconnoitre; for though, from having seen a party of +soldiers pass that morning, they knew some of the troop had left, it was +impossible to say how many remained behind nor whether they had received +fresh strength from the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't give no more o' they than I sees the wisdom of," reflected +Mrs. Tucker as, primed with questions to ask Joan and messages to give +to Eve, she securely fastened the doors preparatory to her departure. +"If I was to tell up such talk to Eve her'd be piping off here next +minit or else sendin' back a pack o' silly speeches that 'ud make Adam +mazed to go to she. 'Tis wonderful how took up he is with a maid he +knows so little of. But there! 'tis the same with all the men, I +b'lieve—tickle their eye and good-bye to their judgment." And giving +the outer gate a shake to assure herself that it could not be opened +without a preparatory warning to those within, Mrs. Tucker turned away +and out into the road.</p> + +<p>A natural tendency to be engrossed by personal interests, together with +a life of narrowed circumstances, had somewhat blunted the acuteness of +Mrs. Tucker's impressionable sensibilities, yet she could not but be +struck at the change these last two weeks had wrought in the aspect of +the place. The houses, wont to stand open so that friendly greetings +might be exchanged, were now closed and shut; the blinds of most of the +windows were drawn down; the streets, usually thronged with idlers, were +all but deserted; the few shops empty of wares and of customers. Calling +to her recollection the frequent prophetic warnings she had indulged in +about these evil days to come, Mrs. Tucker's heart smote her. Surely +Providence had never taken her at her word and really brought a judgment +on the place? If so, seeing her own kith and kin would be amongst the +most to suffer, it had read a very wrong meaning in her words; for it +stood to reason when folks talked serious-like they didn't always stop +to measure what they said, and if a text or two o' Scripture sounded +seemly, 'twas fitted in to help their speech out with, not to be pulled +abroad to seek the downright meanin' o' each word.</p> + +<p>Subdued and oppressed by these and like reflections, Mrs. Tucker reached +Uncle Zebedee's house, inside which the change wrought was in keeping +with the external sadness. Both girls looked harassed and +careworn—Joan, now that there was no further occasion for that display +of spirit and bravado which before the soldiers she had successfully +contrived to maintain, utterly broken down and apathetically dejected; +Eve, unable to enter into all the difficulties or sympathize in the +universal danger, ill at ease with herself and irritable with all around +her. In her anxiety to hear about Adam—what message he had sent and +whether she could not go to see him—she had barely patience to listen +to Mrs. Tucker's roundabout details and lugubrious lamentations, and, +choosing a very inopportune moment, she broke out with, "What message +has Adam sent, Mrs. Tucker? He's sent a message to me, I'm sure: I know +he must have."</p> + +<p>"Awh, well, if you knaws, you don't want to be told, then," snorted Mrs. +Tucker, ill pleased at having her demands upon sympathy put to such +sudden flight. "Though don't you think, Eve, that Adam hasn't got +somethin' else to think of than sendin' love-messages and nonsense o' +that sort? He's a good deal too much took up 'bout the trouble we'm all +in for that.—He hoped you was all well, and keepin' yer spirits up, +Joan."</p> + +<p>"Poor sawl!" sighed Joan: "I 'spects he finds that's more than he can +do."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you may well say that," replied Mrs. Tucker, casting a troubled +look toward her daughter's altered face. "Adam's doin' purtty much the +same as you be, Joan—frettin' his insides out."</p> + +<p>"He's fretting, then?" gasped Eve, managing to get the words past the +great lump which seemed to choke her further utterance.</p> + +<p>"Frettin'," repeated Mrs. Tucker with severity. "But there! why should +I?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span> she added, as if blaming her sense of injury. "I keeps forgettin' +that, compared with Joan, Eve, you'm nothin' but a stranger, as you may +say; and, though I dare say I sha'n't get your thanks for saying it, +still Adam could tell 'ee so well as me that fresh faces is all very +well in fair weather, but in times of trouble they counts for very +little aside o' they who's bin brought up from the same cradle, you may +say."</p> + +<p>Eve's swelling heart could bear no more. This sense of being set aside +and looked on as a stranger was a gall which of late she had been +frequently called upon to endure, but to have it hinted at that Adam +could share in this feeling toward her—oh, it was too much, and rising +hastily she turned to run up stairs.</p> + +<p>"Now, there's no call to fly off in no tantrums, Eve," said Mrs. Tucker; +"so just sit down now and listen to what else I've got to say."</p> + +<p>But Eve's outraged love could hide itself no longer: to answer Joan's +mother with anything like temper was impossible, and, knowing this, her +only refuge was in flight. "I don't want to hear any more you may have +to say, Mrs. Tucker;" and though Eve managed to keep under the sharpness +of her voice, she could not control the indignant expression of her +face, which Mrs. Tucker fully appreciating, she speeded her departure by +the inspiriting prediction that if Eve didn't sup sorrow by the spoonful +before her hair was gray her name wasn't Ann Tucker.</p> + +<p>"Awh, don't 'ee say that," said Joan. "You'm over-crabbit with her, +mother, and her only wantin' to hear some word that Adam had sent to her +ownself."</p> + +<p>"But, mercy 'pon us! her must give me time to fetch my breath," +exclaimed Mrs. Tucker indignantly, "and I foaced to fly off as I did for +fear that Adam should forestall me and go doin' somethin' foolish!"</p> + +<p>"He ain't wantin' to come home?" said Joan hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"Iss, but he is, though. And when us see they sodgers go past I thought +no other than he'd a set off then and there. As I said to un, ''Tis true +you knows o' they that's gone, but how can 'ee tell how many's left +behind?'"</p> + +<p>Joan shook her head. "They'm all off," she said: "every man of 'em's +gone; but, for all that, Adam mustn't come anighst us or show his face +in the place. 'Tis held everywhere that this move is nothin' but a decoy +to get the men out o' hidin', and that done, back they'll all come and +drop down on 'em."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'd best go back to wanst," cried Mrs. Tucker, starting up, +"and try and put a stop to his comin', tho' whether he'll pay any heed +to what I say is more than I'll answer for."</p> + +<p>"Tell un," said Joan, "that for all our sakes he mustn't come, and say +that I've had word that Jonathan's lurkin' nigh about here some place, +so I reckon there's somethin' up; and what it is he shall know so soon +as I can send word to un. Say <i>that</i> ought to tell un 'tisn't safe to +stir, 'cos he knows that Jonathan would sooner have gone to he than to +either wan here."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell un all you tells me to," said Mrs. Tucker with a +somewhat hopeless expression; "but you knaw what Adam is, Joan, when he +fixes his mind on anythin'; and I've had the works o' the warld to keep +un from comin' already: he takes such fancies about 'ee all as you never +did. I declare if I didn't knaw that p'r'aps he's a had more liquor than +he's used to take o' times I should ha' fancied un light-headed like."</p> + +<p>"And so he'll be if you gives much sperrit to un, mother," said Joan +anxiously: "'tis sure to stir his temper up. But there!" she added +despondingly, "what can anybody do? 'Tis all they ha' got to fly to. +There's Jerrem at it fro' mornin' to night; and as for uncle, dear sawl! +he's as happy as a clam at high watter."</p> + +<p>"Iss, I reckon," said Mrs. Tucker: "it don't never matter much what goes +wrong, so long as uncle gets his fill o' drink. I've said scores o' +times uncle's joy 'ud never run dry so long as liquor lasted."</p> + +<p>"Awh, well," said Joan, "I don't knaw what us should ha' done if there'd +ha' bin no drink to give 'em: they'd ha' bin more than Eve and me could +manage, I can tell 'ee. Nobody but our ownselves,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> mother, will ever +knaw what us two maidens have had to go through."</p> + +<p>"You've often had my thoughts with 'ee, Joan," said Mrs. Tucker, her +eyes dimmed by a rush of motherly sympathy for all the girls must have +suffered; "and you can tell Eve (for her'll take it better from you than +from me) that Adam's allays a-thinkin' of her, and begged and prayed +that she wudn't forget un."</p> + +<p>"No fear o' that," said Joan, anxious that her mother should depart; +"and mind now you say, no matter what time 'tis, directly I'se seen +Jonathan and knaws 'tis safe for we somebody shall bring un word to come +back, for Eve and me's longin' to have a sight of un."</p> + +<p>Charged with these messages, Mrs. Tucker hastened back to the mill, +where all had gone well since her departure, and where she found Adam +more tractable and reasonable than she had had reason to anticipate. He +listened to all Joan's messages, agreed with her suspicions and seemed +contented to abide by her decision. The plain, unvarnished statement +which Mrs. Tucker gave of the misery and gloom spread over the place +affected him visibly, and her account of the two girls, and the +alteration she had seen in them, did not tend to dispel his emotion.</p> + +<p>"As for Joan," she said, letting a tear escape and trickle down her +cheek, "'tis heart-breakin' to look at her. Her's terrible wrapped up in +you, Adam, is Joan—more than, as her mother, I cares for her to awn to, +seein' how you'm situated with Eve."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Eve never made no difference 'twixt us two," said Adam. Then, after +a pause, he asked, "Didn't Eve give you no word to give to me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no," said Mrs. Tucker: then, with the determination to deal +fairly, she added quickly, "but her was full o' questions about 'ee, and +that 'fore I'd time to draw breath inside the place." Adam was silent, +and Mrs. Tucker, considering the necessity for further explanation +removed by the compromise she had made, continued: "You see, what with +Jerrem and uncle, and the drink that goes on, they two poor maidens is +kept pretty much on the go; and Eve, never bein' used to no such ways, +seems terrible harried by it all."</p> + +<p>"Harried?" repeated Adam, with ill-suppressed bitterness, "and well she +may be; still, I should ha' thought she might have managed to send, if +'twas no more than a word, back to me."</p> + + +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> + +<p>Under the plea that, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Jonathan +might still possibly put in an appearance, Adam lingered in his aunt's +cheerful-looking kitchen until after the clock had struck eleven: then +he very reluctantly got up, and, bidding Mrs. Tucker and Sammy +good-night, betook himself to the mill-house, in which, with regard to +his greater safety, a bed had been made up for him.</p> + +<p>Adam felt that, court it as he might, sleep was very far from his eyes, +and that, compared to his own society and the torment of thought which +harassed and racked him each time he found himself alone, even Sammy +Tucker's company was a boon to be grateful for. There were times during +these hours of dreary loneliness when Adam's whole nature seemed +submerged by the billows of love—cruel waves, which would toss him +hither and thither, making sport of his hapless condition, to strand him +at length on the quicksands of fear, where a thousand terrible alarms +would seize him and fill him with dread as to how these disasters might +end. What would become of him? how would it fare with Eve and himself? +where could they go? what could they do?—questions ever swallowed up by +the constantly-recurring, all-important bewilderment as to what could +possibly have brought about this dire disaster.</p> + +<p>On this night Adam's thoughts were more than usually engrossed by Eve: +her form seemed constantly before him, distracting him with images as +tempting and unsatisfying as is the desert spring with which desire +mocks the thirst of the fainting traveller. At length that relaxation of +strength which in sterner natures takes the place of tears subdued Adam, +a softened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> feeling crept over him, and, shifting his position so that +he might rest his arms against the corn-bin near, a deep-drawn sigh +escaped him.</p> + +<p>"Hist!"</p> + +<p>Adam started at the sound, and without moving turned his head and looked +rapidly about him. Nothing was to be seen: with the exception of the +small radius round the lantern all was darkness and gloom.</p> + +<p>"Hist!" was repeated, and this time there was no more doubt but that the +sound came from some one close by.</p> + +<p>A clammy sweat stood on Adam's forehead, his tongue felt dry and so +powerless that it needed an effort to force it to move. "Who's there?" +he said.</p> + +<p>"'Tis me—Jonathan."</p> + +<p>Adam caught up the lantern, and, turning it in the direction whence the +voice came, found to his relief that the rays fell upon Jonathan's face. +"Odds rot it, lad!" he exclaimed, "but you've gived me a turn! How the +deuce did you get in here? and why didn't ye come inside to the house +over there?"</p> + +<p>"I've a bin scrooged down 'tween these 'ere sacks for ever so long," +said Jonathan, trying to stretch out his cramped limbs: "I reckon I've +had a bit o' a nap too, for the time ha'n't a took long in goin', and +when I fust come 'twasn't altogether dark."</p> + +<p>"'Tis close on the stroke o' twelve now," said Adam. "But come, what +news, eh? Have ye got hold o' anything yet? Are they devils off for +good? Is that what you've come to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Iss, they's off this time, I fancy," said Jonathan; "but 'twasn't that +broffed me, though I should ha' comed to tell 'ee o' that too."</p> + +<p>"No? What is it then?" demanded Adam impatiently, turning the light so +that he could get a better command of Jonathan's face.</p> + +<p>"'Twas 'cos o' this," said Jonathan, his voice dropping to a whisper, so +that, though the words were trembling on his lips, his agitation and +excitement almost prevented their utterance: "I've found it out—all of +it—who blowed the gaff 'pon us."</p> + +<p>Adam started forward: his face all but touched Jonathan's, and an +expression of terrible eagerness came into his eyes.</p> + +<p>"'Twas she!" hissed Jonathan—"she—her from London—Eve;" but before +the name was well uttered Adam had thrown himself upon him and was +grasping at his throat as if to throttle him, while a volley of +imprecations poured from his mouth, denouncing the base lie which +Jonathan had dared to utter. A moment more, and this fit of impotent +rage over, he flung him violently off, and stood for a moment trying to +bring back his senses; but the succession of circumstances had been too +much for him: his head swam round, his knees shook under him, and he had +to grasp hold of a beam near to steady himself.</p> + +<p>"What for do 'ee sarve me like that, then?" muttered Jonathan. "I ain't +a-tellin' 'ee no more than I've a-heerd, and what's the truth. Her +name's all over the place," he went on, forgetful of the recent outburst +and warming with his narration. "Her's a reg'lar bad wan; her's +a-carr'ed on with a sodger-chap so well as with Jerrem; her's a—"</p> + +<p>"By the living Lord, if you speak another word I'll be your death!" +exclaimed Adam.</p> + +<p>"Wa-al, and so you may," exclaimed Jonathan doggedly, "if so be you'll +lave me bide 'til I'se seed the end o' she. Why, what do 'ee mane, +then?" he cried, a sudden suspicion throwing a light on Adam's storm of +indignation. "Her bain't nawthin' to you—her's Jerrem's maid: her +bain't your maid? Why," he added, finding that Adam didn't speak, "'twas +through the letter I carr'ed from he that her'd got it to blab about. I +wishes my hand had bin struck off"—and he dashed it violently against +the wooden bin—"afore I'd touched his letter or his money."</p> + +<p>"What letter?" gasped Adam.</p> + +<p>"Wa-al, I knaws you said I warn't to take neither wan; but Jerrem he +coaxes and persuades, and says you ain't to knaw nawthin' about it, and +'tain't nawthin' in it, only 'cos he'd a got a letter fra' she to +Guernsey, and this was t' answer; and then I knawed, 'cos I seed em, +that they was sweetheartin' and that, and—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did you give her that letter?" said Adam; and the sound of his voice +was so strange that Jonathan shrank back and cowered close to the wall.</p> + +<p>"Iss, I did," he faltered: "leastwise, I gived un to Joan, but t'other +wan had the radin' in it."</p> + +<p>There was a pause, during which Adam stood stunned, feeling that +everything was crumbling and giving way beneath him—that he had no +longer anything to live for, anything to hope, anything to fear. As, one +after another, each former bare suggestion of artifice now passed before +him clothed in the raiment of certain deceit, he made a desperate clutch +at the most improbable, in the wild hope that one falsehood at least +might afford him some ray of light, however feeble, to dispel the +horrors of this terrible darkness.</p> + +<p>"And after she'd got the letter," he said, "what—what about the rest?"</p> + +<p>"Why 'twas this way," cried Jonathan, his eyes rekindling in his +eagerness to tell the story: "somebody dropped a bit of paper into the +rendevoos winder, with writin' 'pon it to say when and where they'd find +the Lottery to. Who 'twas did it none knaws for sartain, but the talk's +got abroad 'twas a sergeant there, 'cos he'd a bin braggin' aforehand +that he'd got a watch-sale and that o' her'n'."</p> + +<p>"Her'n?" echoed Adam.</p> + +<p>"Iss, o' Eve's. And he's allays a-showin' of it off, he is; and when +they axes un questions he doan't answer, but he dangles the sale afront +of 'em and says, 'What d'ee think?' he says; and now he makes his brag +that he shall hab the maid yet, while her man's a-dancin' gallus-high a +top o' Tyburn tree."</p> + +<p>The blood rushed up into Adam's face, so that each vein stood a separate +cord of swollen, bursting rage.</p> + +<p>"They wasn't a-manin' you, ye knaw," said Jonathan: "'twar Jerrem. Her's +played un false, I reckon. Awh!" and he gave a fiendish chuckle, "but +us'll pay her out for't, woan't us, eh? Awnly you give to me the +ticklin' o' her ozel-pipe;" and he made a movement of his bony fingers +that conveyed such a hideous embodiment of his meaning that Adam, +overcome by horror, threw up his arms with a terrible cry to heaven, +and falling prone he let the bitterness of death pass over the love that +had so late lain warm at his heart; while Jonathan crouched down, +trembling and awestricken by the sight of emotion which, though he could +not comprehend nor account for, stirred in him the sympathetic +uneasiness of a dumb animal. Afraid to move or speak, he remained +watching Adam's bent figure until his shallow brain, incapable of any +sustained concentration of thought, wandered off to other interests, +from which he was recalled by a noise, and looking up he saw that Adam +had raised himself and was wiping his face with his handkerchief. Did he +feel so hot, then? No, it must be that he felt cold, for he shivered and +his teeth seemed to chatter as he told Jonathan to stoop down by the +side there and hand him up a jar and a glass that he would find; and +this got, Adam poured out some of its contents, and after tossing it off +told Jonathan to take the jar and help himself, for, as nothing could be +done until daylight, they might as well lie down and try and get some +sleep. Jonathan's relish for spirit once excited, he made himself +tolerably free of the permission, and before long had helped himself to +such purpose that, stretched in a heavy sleep, unless some one roused +him he was not likely to awake for some hours to come.</p> + +<p>Then Adam got up and with cautious movements stole down the ladder, +undid the small hatch-door which opened out on the mill-stream, fastened +it after him, and leaping across stood for a few moments asking himself +what he had come out to do. He didn't know, for as yet, in the tumult of +jealousy and revenge, there was no outlet, no gap, by which he might +drain off any portion of that passionate fire which was rapidly +destroying and consuming all his softer feelings. The story which +Jonathan had brought of the betrayal to the sergeant, the fellow's +boastings and his possession of the seal Adam treated as an idle tale, +its possibility vanquished by his conviction that Eve could have had no +share in it. It was the letter from Jerrem which was the damnatory proof +in Adam's eyes—the proof by which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> he judged and condemned her; for had +not he himself seen and wondered at Jerrem's anxiety to go to Guernsey, +his elation at finding a letter waiting him, his display of wishing to +be seen secretly reading it, and now his ultimate betrayal of them by +sending an answer to it?</p> + +<p>As for Jerrem—oh he would deal with him as with a dog, and quickly send +him to that fate he so richly deserved. It was not against Jerrem that +the depths of his bitterness welled over: as the strength of his love, +so ran his hate; and this all turned to one direction, and that +direction pointed toward Eve.</p> + +<p>He must see her, stand face to face with her, smite her with reproaches, +heap upon her curses, show her how he could trample on her love and +fling her back her perjured vows. And then? This done, what was there +left? From Jerrem he could free himself. A word, a blow, and all would +be over: but how with her? True, he could kill the visible Eve with his +own hands, but the Eve who lived in his love, would she not live there +still? Ay; and though he flung that body which could court the gaze of +other eyes than his full fathoms deep, the fair image which dwelt before +him would remain present to his vision. So that, do what he would, Eve +would live, must live. Live! Crushing down on that thought came the +terrible consequences which might come of Jonathan's tale being told—a +tale so colored with all their bitterest prejudices that it was certain +to be greedily listened to; and in the storm of angry passion it would +rouse everything else would be swallowed up by resentment against Eve's +baseness; and the fire once kindled, what would come of it?</p> + +<p>The picture which Adam's heated imagination conjured up turned him hot +and cold; an agony of fear crept over him; his heart sickened and grew +faint within him, and the hands which but a few minutes before had +longed to be steeped in her blood now trembled and shook with nervous +dread lest a finger of harm should be laid upon her.</p> + +<p>These and a hundred visions more or less wild coursed through Adam's +brain as his feet took their swift way toward Polperro—not keeping +along the open road, but taking a path which, only known to the +inhabitants, would bring him down almost in front of his own house.</p> + +<p>The night was dark, the sky lowering and cloudy. Not a sound was to be +heard, not a soul had he seen, and already Adam was discussing with +himself how best, without making an alarm, he should awaken Joan and +obtain admittance. Usually bars and bolts were unknown, doors were left +unfastened, windows often open; but now all would be securely shut, and +he would have to rely on the possibility of his signal being heard by +some one who might chance to be on the watch.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a noise fell upon his ear. Surely he heard the sound of +footsteps and the hum of voices. It could never be that the surprise +they deemed a possibility had turned out a certainty. Adam crouched +down, and under the shadow of the wall glided silently along until he +came opposite the corner where the house stood. It was as he feared. +There was no further doubt. The shutters were flung back, the door was +half open, and round it, easing their tired limbs as best they might, +stood crowded together a dozen men, the portion of a party who had +evidently spread themselves about the place.</p> + +<p>Fortunately for Adam, the steps which led up to the wooden orrel or +balcony—at that time a common adornment to the Polperro +houses—afforded him a tolerably safe retreat, and, screened here, he +remained a silent watcher, hearing only a confused murmur and seeing +nothing save an occasional movement as one and the other changed posts +and passed in and out of the opposite door. At length a general parley +seemed to take place: the men fell into rank and at a slow pace moved +off down the street in the direction of the quay. Adam looked cautiously +out. The door was now closed. Dare he open it? Might he not find that a +sentinel had been left behind? How about the other door? The chances +against it were as bad. The only possible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> way of ingress was by a +shutter in the wall which overlooked the brook and communicated with the +hiding-place in which his father lay secreted. This shutter had been +little used since the days of press-gangs. It was painted in so exact an +imitation of the slated house-wall as to defy detection, and to mark the +spot to the initiated eye a root of house-leek projected out below and +served to further screen the opening from view. The contrivance of this +shutter-entrance was well known to Adam, and the mode of reaching it +familiar to him: therefore if he could but elude observation he was +certain of success.</p> + +<p>The plan once decided on, he began putting it into execution, and +although it seemed half a lifetime to him, but very few minutes had +elapsed before he had crossed the road, ran waist-high into the brook, +scaled the wall and scrambled down almost on top of old Zebedee, who, +stupefied by continual drink, sleep and this constant confinement, took +the surprise in a wonderfully calm manner.</p> + +<p>"Hist, father! 'tis only me—Adam."</p> + +<p>"A' right! a' right!" stammered Zebedee, too dazed to take in the whole +matter at once. "What is it, lad, eh? They darned galoots ha'n't a +tracked 'ee, have 'em? By the hooky! but they'm givin' 't us hot and +strong this time, Adam: they was trampin' 'bout inside here a minit +agone, tryin' to keep our sperrits up by a-rattlin' the bilboes in our +ears. Why, however did 'ee dodge 'em, eh? What's the manin' o' it all?"</p> + +<p>"I thought they was gone," said Adam, "so I came down to see how you +were all getting on here."</p> + +<p>"Iss, iss, sure. Wa-al, all right, I s'pose, but I ha'n't a bin let +outside much: Joan won't have it, ye knaw. Poor Joan!" he sighed, "her's +terrible moody-hearted 'bout 't all; and so's Eve too. I never see'd +maids take on as they'm doin'; but there! I reckon 'twill soon be put a +end to now."</p> + +<p>"How so?" said Adam.</p> + +<p>"Wa-al, you mustn't knaw, down below, more than you'm tawld," said the +old man with a significant wink and a jerk of his head, "but Jerrem he +let me into it this ebenin' when he rinned up to see me for a bit. +Seems one o' they sodger-chaps is carr'in' on with Eve, and Jerrem's +settin' her on to rig un up so that her'll get un not to see what +'tain't maned for un to look at."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Adam.</p> + +<p>"Iss," said Zebedee, "but will it be well? That's what I keeps axin' of +un. He's cock sure, sartain, that they can manage it all. He's sick, he +says, o' all this skulkin', and he's blamed if he'll go on standin' it, +neither."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" hissed Adam, "he's sick of it, is he?" and in the effort he made +to subdue his voice the veins in his face rose up to be purple cords. +"He'd nothing to do with bringing it on us all? it's no fault of his +that the place is turned into a hell and we hunted down like a pack o' +dogs?"</p> + +<p>"Awh, well, I dawn't knaw nuffin 'bout that," said old Zebedee, huffily. +"How so be if 'tis so, when he's got clane off 'twill be all right +agen."</p> + +<p>"All right?" thundered Adam—"how all right? Right that he should get +off and we be left here?—that he shouldn't swing, but we must stay to +suffer?"</p> + +<p>"Awh, come, come, come!" said the old man with the testy impatience of +one ready to argue, but incapable of reasoning. "'Tain't no talk o' +swingin', now: that was a bit o' brag on the boy's part: he's so eager +to save his neck as you or me either. Awnly Jonathan's bin here and +tawld up summat that makes un want to be off to wance, for he says, what +us all knaws, without he's minded to it you can't slip a knot round +Jonathan's clapper; and 'tain't that Jerrem's afeared o' his tongue, +awnly for the keepin' up o' pace and quietness he fancies 'twould be +better for un to make hisself scarce for a bit."</p> + +<p>Adam's whole body quivered as a spasm of rage ran through him; and +Zebedee, noting the trembling movement of his hands, conveyed his +impression of the cause by bestowing a glance, accompanied with a +pantomimic bend of his elbow, in the direction of a certain stone bottle +which stood in the corner.</p> + +<p>"Did Jonathan tell you what word 'twas he'd brought?" Adam managed to +say.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Noa: I never cast eyes on un. He warn't here 'bove a foo minits 'fore +he slipped away, none of 'em knaws where or how. He was warned not to go +anighst you," he added after a moment's pause; "so I reckon you knaws no +more of un than us does."</p> + +<p>"And Eve and Joan? were they let into the secret?" asked Adam; and the +sound of his harsh voice grated even on Zebedee's dulled ears.</p> + +<p>"Iss, I reckon," he said, half turning, "'cos Eve's got to do the trick: +her's to bamfoozle the sodger.—Odds rot it, lad!" he cried, startled at +the expression which leaped into Adam's haggard face, "what's come to +'ee that you must turn round 'pon us like that? Is it the maid you's got +a spite agen? Lors! but 'tis a poor stomach you's got to'rds her if +you'm angered by such a bit o' philanderin' as I've tawld 'ee of. What +d'ee mane, then?" he added, his temper rising at such unwarrantable +inconsistency. "I've knawed as honest women as ever her is that's a done +that, and more too, for to get their men safe off and out o' way—iss, +and wasn't thought none the wus of, neither. You'm growed mighty +fancikul all to wance 'bout what us is to do and what us dussn't think +o'. I'm sick o' such talk. 'Taint nawthin' else fra' mornin' to night +but Adam this and Adam that. I'm darned if 'tis to be wondered at if the +maid plays 'ee false: by gosh! I'd do the trick, if I was she, 'fore I'd +put up with such fantads from you or either man like 'ee. So there!"</p> + +<p>Adam did not answer, and old Zebedee, interpreting the silence into an +admission of the force of his arguments, forbore to press the advantage +and generously started a fresh topic. "They's a tawld 'ee, I reckon, +'bout the bill they's a posted up, right afore the winder, by the Three +Pilchards," he said. "Iss," he added, not waiting for an answer, "the +king's pardon and wan hunderd pound to be who'll discover to 'em the man +who 'twas fired the fatal shot. Wan hunderd pound!" he sneered. "That's +a fat lot, surely; and as for t' king's pardon, why 'twudn't lave un +braithin'-time to spend it in—not if he war left here, 'twudn't. No +fear! Us ain't so bad off yet that either wan in Polperro 'ud stink +their fingers wi' blid-money. Lord save un! sich a man 'ud fetch up the +divil hisself to see un pitched head foremost down to bottom o' say, +which 'ud be the end I'd vote for un, and see it was carr'd out +too—iss, tho' his bones bore my own flesh and blid 'pon 'em, I wud;" +and in his anger the old man's rugged face grew distorted with emotion.</p> + +<p>But Adam neither spoke nor made comment on his words. His eyes were +fixed on mid-air, his nostrils worked, his mouth quivered. Within him a +legion of devils seemed to have broken loose, and, sensible of the +mastery they were gaining over him, he leaped up and with the wild +despair of one who catches at a straw to save him from destruction, it +came upon him to rush down and look once more into the face of her whom +he had found so fair and proved so false.</p> + +<p>"What is it you'm goin' to do, then?" said Zebedee, seeing that Adam had +stooped down and was raising the panel by which exit was effected.</p> + +<p>"Goin' to see if the coast's clear," said Adam.</p> + +<p>"Better bide where you be," urged Zebedee. "Joan or they's sure to rin +up so soon as 'tis all safe."</p> + +<p>But Adam paid no heed: muttering something about knowing what he was +about, he slipped up the partition and crept under, cautiously +ascertained that the outer room was empty, and then, crossing the +passage, stole down the stairs.</p> + +<p>The door which led into the room was shut, but through a convenient +chink Adam could take a survey of those within. Already his better self +had begun to struggle in his ear, already the whisper which desire was +prompting asked what if Eve stood there alone and—But no, his glance +had taken in the whole: quick as the lightning's flash the details of +that scene were given to Adam's gaze—Eve, bent forward, standing beside +the door, over whose hatch a stranger's face was thrust, while Joan, +close to the spot where Jerrem still lay hid, clasped her two hands as +if to stay the breath which longed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> cry, "He's free!"... The blow +dealt, the firebrand flung, each evil passion quickened into life, +filled with jealousy and mad revenge, Adam turned swiftly round and +backward sped his way.</p> + +<p>"They'm marched off, ain't 'em?" said old Zebedee as, Adam having given +the signal, he drew the panel of the door aside. "I've a bin listenin' +to their trampin' past.—Why, what's the time, lad, eh?—must be close +on break o' day, ain't it?"</p> + +<p>"Just about," said Adam, pushing back the shutter so that he might look +out and see that no one stood near enough to overlook his descent.</p> + +<p>"Why, you bain't goin' agen, be 'ee?" said Zebedee in amazement. "Why, +what for be 'ee hikin' off like this, then—eh, lad?—Lord save us, he's +gone!" he exclaimed as Adam, swinging himself by a dexterous twist on to +the first ledge, let the shutter close behind him. "Wa-al, I'm blamed if +this ain't a rum start! Summat gone wrong with un now. I'll wager he's a +bin tiched up in the bunt somehows, for a guinea; and if so be, 'tis +with wan o' they. They'm all sixes and sebens down below; so I'll lave +'em bide a bit, and hab a tot o' liquor and lie down for a spell. Lord +send 'em to knaw the vally o' pace and quietness! But 'tis wan and all +the same—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Friends and faws,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To battle they gaws;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what they all fights about<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nawbody knaws."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was broad daylight when Joan, having once before failed to make her +uncle hear, gave such a vigorous rap that, starting up, the old man +cried, "Ay, ay, mate!" and with all speed unfastened the door.</p> + +<p>Joan crept in and some conversation ensued, in the midst of which, as +the recollection of the events just past occurred to his mind, Zebedee +asked, "What was up with Adam?"</p> + +<p>"With Adam?" echoed Joan.</p> + +<p>"Iss: what made un start off like he did?"</p> + +<p>Joan looked for a minute, then she lifted the stone bottle and shook its +contents. "Why, whatever be 'ee tellin' up?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Tellin' up? Why, you seed un down below, didn't 'ee? Iss you did now."</p> + +<p>Completely puzzled what to think, Joan shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Lor' ha' massy! don't never tell me he didn't shaw hisself. Why, the +sodgers was barely out o' doors 'fore he comes tumblin' in to shutter +there, and after a bit he says, 'I'll just step down below,' he says, +and out he goes; and in a quarter less no time back he comes tappin' +agen, and when I drawed open for un by he pushes, and 'fore I could say +'Knife' he was out and clane off."</p> + +<p>"You haven't a bin dreamin' of it, have 'ee?" said Joan, her face +growing pale with apprehension.</p> + +<p>"Naw, 'tis gospel truth, every ward. I've a had a toothful of liquor +since, and a bit o' caulk, but not a drap more."</p> + +<p>"Jerrem's comin' up into t'other room," said Joan, not wishing to betray +all the alarm she felt: "will 'ee go into un there the whiles I rins +down and says a word to Eve?"</p> + +<p>"Iss," said the old man, "and I'll freshen mysen up a bit with a dash o' +cold watter: happen I may bring some more o' it to my mind then."</p> + +<p>But, his ablutions over and the whole family assembled, Zebedee could +throw no more light on the subject, the recital of which caused so much +anxiety that Joan, yielding to Eve's entreaties, decided to set off with +all speed for Crumplehorne.</p> + +<p>"Mother, Adam's all right? ain't he here still, and safe?" cried Joan, +bursting into the kitchen where Mrs. Tucker, only just risen, was +occupied with her house-duties.</p> + +<p>"Iss, plaise the Lord, and, so far as I knaws of, he is," replied Mrs. +Tucker, greatly startled by Joan's unexpected appearance. "Why, what do +'ee mane, child, eh? But there!" she added starting up, "us'll make sure +to wance and knaw whether 'tis lies or truth we'm tellin'.—Here, Sammy, +off ever so quick as legs can carry 'ee, and climber up and fetch Adam +back with 'ee."</p> + +<p>Sammy started off, and Joan proceeded to communicate the cause of her +uneasiness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Awh, my dear, is that all?" exclaimed Mrs. Tucker, at once pronouncing +sentence on poor old Zebedee's known failing: "then my mind's made easy +agen. There's too much elbow-crookin' 'bout that story for me to set any +hold by it."</p> + +<p>"Do 'ee think so?" said Joan, ready to catch at any straw of hope.</p> + +<p>"Why, iss; and for this reason too. I—"</p> + +<p>But at this moment Sammy appeared, and, without waiting for him to +speak, the two women uttered a cry as they saw in his face a +confirmation of their fears. "Iss, 'tis every ward true; he's a gone +shure 'nuf," exclaimed Sammy; "but by his own accord, I reckon, 'cos +there ain't no signs o' nothin' bein' open 'ceptin 'tis the hatch over +by t' mill-wheel."</p> + +<p>"Awh, mother," cried Joan, "whatever can be the manin' of it? My poor +heart's a sinkin' down lower than iver. Oh Lord! if they should ha' +cotched un, anyways!"</p> + +<p>"Now, doan't 'ee take on like that, Joan," said Mrs. Tucker. "'Tis like +temptin' o' Providence to do such like. I'll be bound for't he's safe +home alongst afore now: he ain't like wan to act wild and go steppin' +into danger wi' both his eyes wide open."</p> + +<p>The possibility suggested, and Joan was off again, back on her way to +Polperro, too impatient to wait while her mother put on her bonnet to +accompany her.</p> + +<p>At the door stood Eve, breathless expectation betraying itself in her +every look and gesture. Joan shook her head, while Eve's finger, quick +laid upon her lip, warned her to be cautious.</p> + +<p>"They're back," she muttered as Joan came up close: "they've just +marched past and gone down to the quay."</p> + +<p>"What for?" cried Joan.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Run and see, Joan: everybody's flocking that way."</p> + +<p>Joan ran down the street, and took her place among a mob of people +watching with eager interest the movements of a soldier who, with much +unnecessary parade and delay, was taking down the bill of reward posted +outside the Three Pilchards. A visible anticipation of the effect about +to be produced stirred the small red-coated company, and they wheeled +round so as to take note of any sudden emotion produced by the surprise +they felt sure awaited the assembly.</p> + +<p>"Whatever is it, eh?" asked Joan, trying to catch a better sight of what +was going on.</p> + +<p>"They'm stickin' up a noo reward, 't seems," said an old man close by. +"'Tain't no—"</p> + +<p>But the swaying back of the crowd carried Joan with it. A surge forward, +and then on her ear fell a shrill cry, and as the name of Jerrem +Christmas started from each mouth a hundred eyes seemed turned upon her. +For a moment the girl stood dazed, staring around like some wild animal +at bay: then, flinging out her arms, she forced those near her aside, +and rushing forward to the front made a desperate clutch at the soldier. +"Speak! tell me! what's writ there?" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Writ there?" said the man, startled by the scared face that was turned +up to him. "Why, the warrant to seize for murder Jerrem Christmas, +living or dead, on the king's evidence of Adam Pascal."</p> + +<p>And the air was rent by a cry of unutterable woe, caught up by each +voice around, and coming back in echoes from far and near long after +Joan lay a senseless heap on the stones upon which she had fallen.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<i>The Author of "Dorothy Fox."</i> +</p> + +<h4>[TO BE CONTINUED.]</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SEVEN_WEEKS_A_MISSIONARY" id="SEVEN_WEEKS_A_MISSIONARY"></a>SEVEN WEEKS A MISSIONARY.</h2> + + +<p>The sights of Honolulu had not lost their novelty—the tropical foliage +of palm, banana, bread-fruit, monkey-pod and algaroba trees; the +dark-skinned, brightly-clad natives with flowers on their heads, who +walked with bare feet and stately tread along the shady sidewalks or +tore through the streets on horseback; the fine stone or wooden +residences with wide cool verandas, or humbler native huts surrounded by +walls of coral-rock instead of fences; the deep indigo-blue ocean on one +hand and the rich green mountains on the other, dripping with moisture +and alternately dark and bright with the gloom of clouds and the glory +of rainbows, still wore for me their original freshness and +interest—when I received an urgent request to come to Waialua, a little +village on the other side of the island. My host, to whom the note was +addressed, explained to me that there was a mission-school at that +place, a seminary for native girls. It was conducted by Miss G——, the +daughter of one of the missionaries who first came to the Hawaiian +Islands fifty years before. She had been sent to this country to be +educated, like most of the children of the early missionaries, and had +returned to devote herself to the mental, moral and physical welfare of +the native girls—a task which she was now accomplishing with all the +fervor, devotion and self-sacrifice of a Mary Lyon.</p> + +<p>At this juncture she had forty-five girls, from six to eighteen, under +her care, and but one assistant. The English teacher who had assisted +her for several years had lately married, and the place was still +vacant. She wrote to my host, saying that she had heard there was a +teacher from California at his house, and begging me, through him, to +come and help her a few weeks. I signified my willingness to go, and in +a few days Miss G——, accompanied by a native girl, came on horseback +to meet me and conduct me to Waialua. A gentleman of Honolulu, his +sister and a native woman called Maria, who were going to Waialua and +beyond, joined us, so that our party consisted of six. We were variously +mounted, on horses of different appearance and disposition, and carried +our luggage and lunch in saddle-bags strapped on behind. Maria's outfit +especially interested me. It was the usual costume for native women, and +consisted of a long flowing black garment called a <i>holoku</i>, gathered +into a yoke at the shoulders and falling unconfined to her bare feet. +Around her neck she wore a bright red silk handkerchief, and on her head +a straw hat ornamented with a <i>lei</i>, or wreath of fresh, fragrant +flowers, orange or jasmine. Men, women and children wear these wreaths, +either on their heads or around their necks. Sometimes they consist +of the bright yellow <i>ilimu</i>-flowers or brilliant scarlet +pomegranate-blossoms strung on a fibre of the banana-stalk—sometimes +they are woven of ferns or of a fragrant wild vine called <i>maile</i>. Maria +was seated astride on a wiry little black horse, and instead of slipping +her bare feet into the stirrups she clasped the irons with her toes. +Besides her long, flowing black dress she wore a width of bright +red-flowered damask tied around her waist, caught into the stirrup on +either side and flowing a yard or two behind.</p> + +<p>Waialua, our destination, was about a third of the way around the +island, but the road, instead of following the sea-coast all the way, +took a short cut across an inland plateau, so that the distance was but +twenty-seven miles. We started about one o'clock in the afternoon, the +hour when the streets are least frequented, and rode past the shops and +stores shaded with awnings, past the bazaars where sea-shells and white +and pink coral are offered for sale, through the fish-market where +shellfish and hideous-looking squid and bright fish, colored like +rainbows or the gayest tropical parrots, lay on little tables or floated +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> tanks of sea-water. Men with bundles of green grass or hay for sale +made way for us as we passed, and the fat, short-legged dogs scattered +right and left.</p> + +<p>Although it was December, the air was warm and balmy, tree and fruit and +flower were in the glory of endless summer, and the ladies seated on +verandas or swinging in hammocks wore white dresses. For one who dreads +harsh, cold winters the climate of Honolulu is perfection. At the end of +King street we crossed a long bridge over the river, which at that point +widens out into a marsh bordered by reeds and rushes. Here we saw a +number of native canoes resting on poles above the water. They were +about twenty feet long and quite narrow, being hollowed out of +tree-trunks. An outrigger attached to one side serves to balance them in +the water. A fine smooth road built on an embankment of stone and earth +leads across this marsh to a strip of higher land near the sea where the +prison buildings stand. They are of gray stone, with miniature towers, +surrounded by a wall capped with stone, the whole surmounted by a tower +from which waves the Hawaiian flag. In front is a smooth lawn where grow +century-plants and ornamental shrubs, including the India-rubber tree. +It is much finer than the so-called palace of the king, a many-roomed, +one-story wooden cottage in the centre of the city, surrounded by a +large grassy yard enclosed by a high wall.</p> + +<p>The land beyond the marshes is planted in <i>taro</i> and irrigated by a +network of streams. Taro is the principal article of food used by the +natives: the root, which looks somewhat like a gray sweet potato, is +made into a paste called <i>poi</i>, and the tops are eaten as greens. The +plant grows about two feet high, and has an arrow-shaped leaf larger +than one's hand. Like rice, it grows in shallow pools of water, and a +patch of it looks like an inundated garden. As we passed along we saw +half-clad natives standing knee-deep in mud and water pulling the +full-grown plants or putting in young ones. Reaching higher ground, we +cantered along a hard, smooth road bordered with short green grass. On +either side were dwellings of wood surrounded by broad-leafed banana +trees, with here and there a little shop for the sale of fruit. This is +a suburb of Honolulu and is called Kupalama. We met a number of natives +on horseback going into town, the men dressed in shirts and trousers of +blue or white cotton cloth, the women wearing the long loose gowns I +have described.</p> + +<p>At last we reached the open country, and started fairly on our long +ride. On our left was the ocean with "league-long rollers thundering on +the reef:" on our right, a few miles away, was a line of mountains, +divided into numerous spurs and peaks by deep valleys richly clothed in +tropical verdure. The country about us was uncultivated and generally +open, but here and there were straggling lines of low stone walls +overgrown with a wild vine resembling our morning-glory, the masses of +green leaves starred with large pink flowers. The algaroba, a graceful +tree resembling the elm, grew along the roadside, generally about +fifteen feet high. In Honolulu, where they are watered and cared for, +these trees attain a height of thirty or forty feet, sending forth long +swaying branches in every direction and forming beautiful shade trees. +Now and then we crossed water-courses, where the banks were carpeted +with short green grass and bordered with acacia-bushes covered with +feathery leaves and a profusion of yellow ball-shaped flowers that +perfumed the air with their fragrance. The view up and down these +winding flower-bordered streams was lovely. We rode for miles over this +monotonous country, gradually rising to higher ground. Suddenly, almost +at our very feet, a little bowl-shaped valley about half a mile in +circumference opened to view. The upper rim all around was covered with +smooth green grass, and the sides were hidden by the foliage of +dark-green mango trees, light-green <i>kukui</i>, bread-fruit and banana. +Coffee had formerly been cultivated here, and a few bushes still grew +wild, bearing fragrant white flowers or bright red berries. Through the +bottom of the valley ran a little stream, and on its banks were three or +four grass huts beneath tufts of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> tall cocoanut palms. Several +scantily-clad children rolled about on the ground, and in the shade of a +tamarind tree an old gray-headed man was pounding taro-root. The gray +mass lay before him on a flat stone, and he pounded it with a stone +pestle, then dipped his hands into a calabash of water and kneaded it. A +woman was bathing in the stream, and another stood at the door of one of +the huts holding her child on her hip.</p> + +<p>We passed through three other deep valleys like this, and in every case +they opened suddenly to view—hidden nests of tropical foliage and +color. The natives were seated in circles under the trees eating poi, or +wading in the stream looking for fish, or lounging on the grass near +their huts as though life were one long holiday.</p> + +<p>Now we entered a vast sunburnt plain overgrown with huge thorny cactus +twelve or fifteen feet high. Without shade or water or verdure it +stretched before us to distant table-lands, upholding mountains whose +peaks were veiled in cloud. The solitude of the plain was rendered more +impressive by the absence of wild creatures of any kind: there were no +birds nor insects nor ground-squirrels nor snakes. The cactus generally +grew in clumps, but sometimes it formed a green prickly wall on either +side of the road, between which we had to pass as between the bayonets +of sentinels. Wherever the road widened out we clattered along, six +abreast, at full speed. Maria, the native woman, presented a picturesque +appearance with her black dress and long flowing streamers of bright +red. She was an elderly woman—perhaps fifty years old—but as active as +a young girl, and a good rider. She had an unfailing fund of good-humor, +and talked and laughed a great deal. My other companions, with the +exception of the native girl, were children of early missionaries, and +enlivened the journey by many interesting incidents of island life. At +last we crossed the cactus desert, ascended an eminence, and then sank +into a valley grand and deep, shut in by walls carved in fantastic shape +by the action of water. Our road was a narrow pathway, paved with +stone, that wound down the face of the cliff. The natives call this +place Ki-pa-pa, which signifies "paved way."</p> + +<p>As we were making the descent on one side we saw a party of natives on +horseback winding down on the opposite. First rode three men, single +file, with children perched in front of them, then three or four women +in black or gay-colored holokus, then a boy who led two pack-mules laden +with large baskets. All wore wreaths of ferns or flowers. When we met +they greeted us with a hearty "<i>Aloha!</i>" ("Love to you!"), and in reply +to a question in Hawaiian said that they were going to Honolulu with +fresh fish, bananas and oranges.</p> + +<p>We climbed the rocky pathway rising out of the valley, and found +ourselves on the high table-land toward which we had shaped our course. +It was smooth as a floor and covered with short rich grass. Instead of a +broad road there were about twenty parallel paths stretching on before +us as far as we could see, furrowed by the feet of horses and +pack-mules. Miles away on either side was a line of lofty mountains +whose serrated outlines were sharply defined against the evening sky. +Darkness overtook us on this plateau, and the rest of the journey is a +confused memory of steep ravines down whose sides we cautiously made our +way, torrents of foaming water which we forded, expanses of dark plain, +and at last the murmur of the ocean on the reef. After reaching +sea-level again we passed between acres and acres of taro-patches where +the water mirrored the large bright stars and the arrow-shaped leaves +cast sharp-pointed shadows. We rode through the quiet little village of +Waialua, sleeping beneath the shade of giant pride-of-India and kukui +trees, without meeting any one, and forded the Waialua River just where +it flows over silver sands into the sea. As we paused to let our horses +drink I looked up at the cluster of cocoanut palms that grew upon the +bank, and noticed how distinctly each feathery frond was pencilled +against the sky, then down upon the placid river and out upon the gently +murmuring sea, and thought that I had never gazed upon a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> more peaceful +scene. Little did I think that it would soon be associated with danger +and dismay. Beyond the river were two or three native huts thatched with +grass, and a little white cottage, the summer home of Princess Lydia, +the king's sister. Passing these, we rode over a smooth green lawn +glittering with large bright dewdrops, and dismounted in front of the +seminary-gate. The large whitewashed brick house, two stories and a half +high, with wide verandas around three sides, looks toward the sea. In +front of it is a garden filled with flowers and vines and shrubbery, the +pride and care of the school-girls. There are oleander trees with +rose-colored blossoms, pomegranate trees whose flowers glow amid the +dark-green foliage like coals of fire, and orange and lime trees covered +with fragrant white flowers, which the girls string and wear around +their necks. Besides roses, heliotrope, geraniums, sweet-pea, nasturtium +and other familiar flowers, there are fragrant Japanese lilies, and also +plants and shrubs from the Micronesian Islands. On one side is a grove +of tamarind and kukui-nut trees, mingled with tall cocoanut palms, which +stretches to the deep, still river, a few rods away: on the other is the +school-house, a two-story frame, painted white, shaded by tall +pride-of-India trees and backed by a field of corn. My room opened on a +veranda shaded with kukui trees, and as the "coo-coo-ee coo-coo-ee" of +the doves in the branches came to my ears I thought that the trees had +received their name from the notes of the doves, but afterward learnt +that <i>kukui</i> in the Hawaiian language meant "light," and that the nuts, +being full of oil, were strung on bamboo poles by the natives and used +as torches.</p> + +<p>The morning after my arrival I saw the girls at breakfast, and found +them of all shades of complexion from deep chocolate-brown to white. +Their glossy black hair, redolent of cocoanut oil, was ornamented with +fresh flowers, and their bright black eyes danced with fun or languished +with sullen scorn. The younger ones were bright and happy in their +expression, but the older ones seemed already to realize the curse that +rests upon their decaying race, and to move with melancholy languor, as +if brooding over it in stifled rebellion or resigned apathy. Some would +be called beautiful anywhere: they were graceful in form, had fine +regular features and lovely, expressive eyes; others were attractive +only on account of their animation; while one comical little negro girl, +who had somehow got mixed with the Malay race, was as ugly as a +Hottentot, and a veritable imp of darkness, as I afterward learned, so +far as mischief was concerned. The girls were dressed in calico, and +wore no shoes or stockings. When they had eaten their beef and poi, and +we had finished our breakfast, each girl got her Hawaiian Testament and +read a verse: then Miss G——, the principal, offered prayer in the same +language. When this was over the routine work of the day began. Some of +the older girls remained in the dining-room to put away the food, wash +the dishes and sweep the floor; one went to the kitchen to wash the pots +and pans; and the younger ones dispersed to various tasks—to sweep and +dust the parlor, the sitting-room or the school-room, to gather up the +litter of leaves and branches from the yard and garden-paths, or to put +the teachers' rooms in order. The second floor and attic, both filled +with single beds covered with mosquito-netting, were the girls' +dormitories. Each girl was expected to make her own bed and hang up her +clothes or put them away in her trunk. A <i>luna</i>, or overseer, in each +dormitory superintended this work, and reported any negligence on the +part of a girl to one of the teachers.</p> + +<p>Miss G—— was the life and soul of the institution—principal and +housekeeper and accountant, all in one. She had a faithful and devoted +assistant in Miss P——, a young woman of twenty-two, the daughter of a +missionary then living in Honolulu. My duties were to teach classes in +English in the forenoon and to oversee the sewing and some departments +of housekeeping in the afternoon. Miss P—— had the smaller children, +Miss G—— taught the larger ones in Hawaiian and gave music-lessons.</p> + +<p>The routine of the school-room from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> nine to twelve in the forenoon and +from one till four in the afternoon was that of any ordinary school, +except that the girls who prepared the meals were excused earlier than +the others. One day in the week was devoted to washing and ironing down +on the river-bank and in the shade of the tamarind trees.</p> + +<p>The girls had to be taught many things besides the lessons in their +books. At home they slept on mats on the floor, ate poi out of +calabashes with their fingers and wore only the holoku. Here they were +required to eat at table with knife and fork and spoon, to sleep in beds +and to adopt the manners and customs of civilization. Now and then, as a +special privilege, they asked to be allowed to eat "native fashion," and +great was their rejoicing and merrymaking as they sat, crowned with +flowers, on the veranda-floor and ate poi and raw fish with their +fingers, and talked Hawaiian. They were required to talk English usually +until the four-o'clock bell sounded in the afternoon. From that until +supper-time they were allowed to talk native, and their tongues ran +fast.</p> + +<p>On Wednesday afternoons the girls went to bathe in the river, and on +Saturday afternoons to bathe in the sea. It usually fell to my lot to +accompany them. The river, back of the house a few rods, had steep banks +ten or fifteen feet high and a deep, still current. The girls would +start to run as soon as they left the house, race with each other all +the way and leap from the bank into the river below. Presently their +heads would appear above water, and, laughing and blowing and shaking +the drops from their brown faces, they would swim across the river. The +older girls could dive and swim under water for some distance. They had +learned to swim as soon as they had learned to walk. They sometimes +brought up fish in their hands, and one girl told me that her father +could dive and bring up a fish in each hand and one in his mouth. The +little silver-fish caught in their dress-skirts they ate raw. The girls +were always glad when the time came to go swimming in the sea, for they +were very fond of a green moss which grew on the reef, and the whole +crowd would sit on rocks picking and eating it while the spray dashed +over them.</p> + +<p><i>Waialua</i> means "the meeting of the waters," or, literally, "two +waters," and the place is named from the perpetual flow and counterflow +of the river and the ocean tide. The river pours into the sea, the sea +at high tide surges up the river, beating back its waters, and the foam +and spray of the contending floods are dashed high into the air, +bedewing the cluster of cocoanut palms that stand on the bank above +watching this perpetual conflict. In calm weather and at low tide there +is a truce between the waters, and the river flows calmly into the sea; +but immediately after a storm, when the river is flooded with rains from +the mountains and the sea hurls itself upon the reef with a shock and a +roar, then the antagonism between the meeting waters is at its height +and the clash and uproar of their fury are great.</p> + +<p>Sometimes we went on picnic excursions to places in the neighborhood—to +the beach of Waiamea, a mile or two distant, where thousands of pretty +shells lay strewn upon the sand and branches of white coral could be had +for the picking up, or to the orange-groves and indigo-thickets on the +mountain-sides, where large sweet oranges ripened, coming back wreathed +with ferns and the fragrant vine maile.</p> + +<p>But we had plenty of oranges without going after them. For half a dollar +we could buy a hundred large fine oranges from the natives, who brought +them to the door, and we usually kept a tin washing-tub full of the +delicious fruit on hand. A <i>real</i> (twelve and a half cents) would buy a +bunch of bananas so heavy that it took two of us to lift it to the hook +in the veranda-ceiling, and limes and small Chinese oranges grew +plentifully in the front yard. Of cocoanuts and tamarinds we made no +account, they were so common. Guavas grew wild on bushes in the +neighborhood, and made delicious pies. For vegetables we had taro, sweet +potatoes and something that tasted just like summer squash, but which +grew in thick, pulpy clusters on a tree. The taro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> was brought to us +just as it was pulled, roots and nodding green tops, and of the donkey +who was laden with it little showed but his legs and his ears as his +master led him up to the gate. Another old man furnished boiled and +pounded taro, which the girls mixed with water and made into poi. He +brought it in large bundles wrapped in broad green banana-leaves and +tied with fibres of the stalk. He had two daughters in the school, and +always inquired about their progress in their studies. One day, +happening to look out of the front door, I saw him coming up the +garden-walk. He had nothing on but a shirt and a <i>malo</i> (a strip of +cloth) about his loins: the malo was all that the natives formerly wore. +Neither the girls who were weeding their garden, nor the other teachers +who were at work in the parlor, seemed to think that there was anything +remarkable in his appearance. He talked with Miss G—— as usual about +the supply of taro for the school, and inquired how his girls were +doing. When he was going away she said, "Uncle, why do you not wear your +clothes when you come to see us? I thought you had laid aside the +heathen fashion." He replied that he had but one suit of clothes, and +that he must save them to wear to church, adding that he was anxious to +give his daughters an education, and must economize in some way in order +to pay for their schooling.</p> + +<p>The fuel needed for cooking was brought down from the mountains by the +native boy who milked the cows for us and took Calico, Miss G——'s +riding horse, to water and to pasture. One day, when one of the girls +had started a fire in the stove, a fragrance like incense diffused +itself through the house. Hastening to the kitchen, I pulled out a +half-burned piece of sandal-wood and put it away in my collection of +shells and island curiosities. A few days afterward an old native man +named Ka-hu-kai (Sea-shore), who lived in one of the grass huts near the +front gate, came to sell me a piece of fragrant wood of another kind. He +had learned that I attached a value to such things, and expected to get +a good price. He inquired for the <i>wahine haole</i> (foreign woman), and +presented his bit of wood, saying that he would sell it for a dollar. I +declined to purchase. He walked down through the garden and across the +lawn, but paused at the big gate for several minutes, then retraced his +steps. Holding out the wood again, he said, "This is my thought: you may +have it for a real." I gave him a real, and he went away satisfied.</p> + +<p>Every Sunday we crossed the bridge that spanned Waialua River near the +ford, and made our way to the huge old-fashioned mission-church, which +stood in an open field surrounded by prickly pears six or eight feet +high. The thorny prickly pears were stiff and ungraceful, but a delicate +wild vine grew all over them and hung in festoons from the top. While +Pai-ku-li, the native minister, preached a sermon in Hawaiian, I, not +understanding a word, looked at the side pews where the old folks sat, +and tried to picture the life they had known in their youth, when the +great Kamehameha reigned. In the pew next to the side door sat Mr. +Sea-shore, straight and solemn as a deacon, and his wife, a fat old +woman with a face that looked as if it had been carved out of knotty +mahogany, but which was irradiated with an expression of kindness and +good-nature. She wore a long black holoku, and on her head was perched a +little sailor hat with a blue ribbon round it, which would have been +suitable for a girl six or eight years old, but which looked decidedly +comical and out of place on Mrs. Sea-shore. She was barefooted, as I +presently saw. Two or three times during the sermon a red-eyed, +dissipated-looking dog with a baked taro-root in his mouth had come to +the door, and seemed about to enter, but Mrs. Sea-shore, without +disturbing the devotions, had kept him back by threatening gestures. But +when the minister began to pray and nearly every head was bowed, the dog +came sneaking in. Mrs. Sea-shore happened to raise her head, and saw +him. Drawing back her holoku, she extended her bare foot and planted a +vigorous kick in his ribs, exclaiming at the same time in an explosive +whisper, "Hala palah!" ("Get out!" or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> "Begone!") The dog went forth +howling, and did not return.</p> + +<p>A few days later Miss G——'s shoulder was sprained by a fall from her +horse, and she sent for Mrs. Sea-shore. The old woman came and +<i>lomi-lomi</i>-ed the shoulder—kneaded it with her hands—until the pain +and stiffness were gone, then extracted the oil from some kukui-nuts by +chewing them and applied it to the sprain. All the time she kept up a +chatter in Hawaiian, talking, asking questions and showing her white +teeth in hearty, good-humored laughs. In answer to the questions I put +to her through Miss G——, she told us much about her early life, the +superstitions and <i>taboos</i> that forbade men and women to eat together +and imposed many meaningless and foolish restrictions, and about her +children, who had died and gone to Po, the great shadowy land, where, as +she once believed, their spirits had been eaten by the gods. We formed +quite a friendship for each other, and she came often to see me, but +would not come into the house any farther than the veranda or front +hall, and there, refusing our offer of a chair, she would sit on the +floor. I spoke of going to see her in return, but she said that her +house was not good enough to receive me, and begged me not to come. Just +before I left Waialua she brought a mat she had woven out of the long +leaves of the pandanus or screw pine, a square of <i>tappa</i>, or native +cloth, as large as a sheet, made from the bark of a tree, and the +tappa-pounder she had made it with (a square mallet with different +patterns cut on each of the four faces), and gave them to me. I offered +her money in return, but she refused it, saying she had given the things +out of <i>aloha</i>, or love for me. On my return to Honolulu I got the most +gorgeous red silk Chinese handkerchief that could be found in Ah Fong +and Ah Chuck's establishment and sent it to her, and Miss G—— wrote me +that she wore it round her neck at church every Sunday.</p> + +<p>One of my duties was to go through the dormitories the last thing at +night, and see that the doors were fastened and that the girls had their +mosquito-netting properly arranged, and were not sleeping with their +heads under the bedclothes. A heathen superstition, of which they were +half ashamed, still exercised an influence over them, and they were +afraid that the spirits of their dead relatives would come back from Po +and haunt them in the night. They would not confess to this fear, but +many of them, ruled by it, covered their heads with the bedclothes every +night. In my rounds, besides clouds of bloodthirsty mosquitos, I +frequently saw centipedes crawling along the floor or wall or up the +netting, and sometimes a large tarantula would dart forth from his +hiding-place in some nook or corner. The centipedes were often six or +seven inches long. They were especially numerous during or immediately +after rainy weather. Little gray and green lizards (<i>mo-o</i>) glided about +the verandas, but they were harmless. Scorpions are common in the +islands, but we were not troubled with them. They frequent hot, dry +places like sandbanks, and are often found in piles of lumber.</p> + +<p>We had fine views of the scenery as we passed to and fro between the +main building and the school-house—the sea, fringed with cocoanut +palms; the fertile level plain, dotted with trees, on which the village +stood; and the green mountains, whose tops were generally dark with +rainclouds or brightened with bits of rainbows. It seemed to be always +raining in that mysterious mountainous centre of the islands which human +foot has never crossed, but it was usually clear and bright at +sea-level. After an unusually hard rain we could see long, flashing +white waterfalls hanging, like ribbons of silver, down the sides of the +green cliffs. From the attic-windows the best view of the bay could be +obtained, and it was my delight to lean out of them like "a blessed +damosel" half an hour at a time, gazing seaward and drinking in the +beauty of the scene. Waialua Bay was shaped like a half moon, the tips +of which were distant headlands, and the curve was the yellow, +palm-fringed beach. Into this crescent-shaped reach of water rolled +great waves from the outside ocean, following each other in regular +stately order with a front of milk-white foam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span> and a veil of mist flying +backward several yards from the summit. The Hawaiian name for this place +is E-hu-kai (Sea-mist), and it is appropriately named, for the floating +veils of the billows keep the surface of the entire bay dim with mist. +Gazing long upon the scene, my eyes would be dazzled with color—the +intense blue of the sky and the water, the bright yellow of the sand, +the dark rich green of the trees, and, looking into the garden below, +the flame-scarlet blossoms of the pomegranates, the rose-pink flowers of +the oleanders and the cream-white clusters of the limes and oranges.</p> + +<p>It seemed a land for poetry, for romance, for day-dreaming, and the +transition from the attic-window to the prosaic realities of house and +school-room work was like a sudden awakening. I was destined before +leaving the place to have a still more violent awakening to the reality +that underlies appearances. Nature in these beautiful islands is fair +and lovely, but deceitful. During long months of sunny weather the waves +gently kiss the shore, the green slopes smile, the mountains decorate +themselves with cloud-wreaths and rainbows; but there comes a dreadful +day when the green and flowery earth yawns in horrid chasms, when Mauna +Loa trembles and belches forth torrents of blood-red lava, when the +ocean, receding from the shore, returns in a tidal wave that sweeps to +the top of the palms on the beach and engulfs the people and their +homes.</p> + +<p>And the human nature here is somewhat similar. The Hawaiians are +pleasing in form and feature, graceful, polite, fond of music and +dancing and wreathing themselves with flowers, and possess withal a deep +fund of poetry, which finds expression in their own names, the names +they have bestowed upon waterfalls and valleys and green peaks and +sea-cliffs, and in the <i>meles</i> or native songs which commemorate events +of personal interest or national importance. But they too have their +volcanic outbursts, their seasons of fury and destruction. The last +public display of this side of their character was on the occasion of +the election of the present king. The supporters of Queen Emma, the +defeated candidate, burst into the court-house, broke the heads of the +electors or threw them bodily out of the windows, and raised a riot in +the streets of Honolulu which was quelled only by the assistance of the +crews of the men-of-war then in the harbor—the English ship Tenedos and +the United States vessels Portsmouth and Tuscarora.</p> + +<p>I come now to the rebellion which broke forth in Waialua school when I +had been there three weeks. A month or two before one of the +school-girls had died after a brief illness. The old heathen +superstition about praying to Death had been revived by the lower class +of natives in the place, who were not friendly to the school, and had +been transmitted by them to the older girls. While yet ignorant of this +I had noticed the scowls and dark looks, the reluctant obedience and +manifest distrust, of ten or twelve girls from fifteen to eighteen, the +leaders in the school. The younger girls were affectionate and obedient: +they brought flowers from their gardens and wove wreaths for us; they +lomi-lomi-ed our hands and feet when we were sitting at rest; if they +neglected their tasks or broke any of the taboos of the school, it was +through the carelessness of childhood. But it seemed impossible to gain +the confidence of the older girls.</p> + +<p>One day Miss P——, the assistant teacher, received word that her father +was quite sick, and immediately set out for Honolulu on horseback. Miss +G——and I carried on the work of the school as well as we could. A day +or two after Miss P—— left a tropical storm burst upon us. It seemed +as if the very heavens were opened. The rain fell in torrents and the +air was filled with the flying branches of trees. This continued a day +and a night. The next day, Sunday, the rain and wind ceased, but sullen +clouds still hung overhead, and there was an oppressive stillness and +languor in the air. Within, there was something of the same atmosphere: +the tropical nature of the girls seemed to be in sympathy with the +stormy elements. They were silent and sullen and brooding. The bridge +over Waialua<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> had been washed away, and we could not go to church. The +oppressive day passed and was succeeded by a similar one. The older +girls cast dark looks upon us as they reluctantly went through the round +of school- and house-work. At night the explosion occurred. All the +girls were at the usual study-hour in the basement dining-room. It was +Miss G——'s turn to sit with them: I was in the sitting-room directly +above. Suddenly I heard a loud yell, a sound as of scuffling and Miss +G——'s quick tones of command. The next moment I was down stairs. There +stood Miss G—— in the middle of the room holding Elizabeth Aukai, one +of the largest and worst girls, by the wrist. The girl's head was bent +and her teeth were buried in Miss G——'s hand. The heathen had burst +forth, the volcanic eruption and earthquake had come. I tried to pull +her off, but she was as strong as an ox. Loosening her hold directly and +hurling us off, she poured forth a flood of abuse in Hawaiian. She +reviled the teachers and all the cursed foreigners who were praying her +people to death. The Hawaiian language has no "swear words," but it is +particularly rich in abusive and reviling epithets, and these were +freely heaped upon us. She ended her tirade by saying, "You shall not +pray us to death, you wicked, black-hearted foreigners!" and her +companions answered with a yell. Then, snatching up a lamp, they ran up +stairs to their sleeping-rooms, screaming and laughing and singing +native songs that had been forbidden in the school, and, taking their +shawls and Sunday dresses from their trunks, they arrayed themselves in +all their finery and began dancing an old heathen dance which is taboo +among the better class of natives and only practised in secret by the +more degraded class of natives and half-whites.</p> + +<p>It sounded like Bedlam let loose. The little girls, frightened and +crying, and a half-white girl of seventeen, Miss G——'s adopted +daughter, remained with us. We put the younger children to bed in their +sleeping-room, which was on the first floor, and held a council +together. "One of us must cross the river and bring Pai-ku-li" (the +native minister), said Miss G——. "He is Elizabeth Aukai's +guardian—she is his wife's niece—and he can control her if anybody +can, and break the hold of this superstition on the girls' minds. +Nothing that we can say or do will do any good while they are in this +frenzy. Which of us shall go?"</p> + +<p>The bridge was washed away; there was no boat; Miss P—— had taken the +only horse to go to Honolulu. Whoever went must ford the river. Like +Lord Ullin's daughter, who would meet the raging of the skies, but not +an angry father, I was less afraid to go than to stay, and volunteered +to bring Pai-ku-li.</p> + +<p>"Li-li-noe shall go with you," said Miss G——: "she is a good swimmer, +and can find the best way through the river."</p> + +<p>Just then the whole crowd of girls came screaming and laughing down the +stairs, swept through the sitting-room, mocking and insulting Miss +G——, then went back up the other flight of stairs, which led to the +teachers' rooms and was taboo to the school-girls. They were anxious to +break as many rules as possible.</p> + +<p>With a lighted lantern hidden between us Li-li-noe and I stole down +through the flower-garden and across the lawn. We were anxious to keep +the girls in ignorance of our absence, lest they should attempt some +violence to Miss G—— while we were gone. Stealing quietly past the +grass huts of the natives, we approached the place where the bridge had +been, and brought forth our lantern to shed light on the water-soaked +path. Just ahead the surf showed through the darkness white and +threatening, and beyond was the ocean, dim heaving in the dusk. The +clash and roar of the meeting waters filled the air, and we were +sprinkled by the flying spray as we stood debating on the river's edge. +Li-li-noe stepped down into the water to find, if possible, a place +shallow enough to ford, but at the first step she disappeared up to her +shoulders. "That will never do," she said, clambering back: "you cannot +cross there."</p> + +<p>"Can we cross above the bridge?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No: the water is ten feet deep there; it is shallower toward the sea."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then let us try there;" and into the water we went, Li-li-noe first. It +was not quite waist-deep, and in calm weather there would have been no +danger, but now the current of the river and the tide of the inrushing +sea swept back and forth with the force of a whirlpool. We had got to +the middle when a great wave, white with foam, came roaring toward us +from the ocean. Li-li-noe threw herself forward and began to swim. For a +moment there were darkness and the roar of many waters around me, and my +feet were almost swept from under me. Looking upward at the cloudy sky +and the tall cocoanut trees on the bank, I thought of the home and +friends I might never see again. The bitter salt water wet my face, +quenched the light and carried away my shawl, but the wave returned +without carrying me out to sea. Then above the noise of the waters I +heard Li-li-noe's voice calling to me from the other shore, and just as +another wave surged in I reached her side and sank down on the sand. +After resting a few moments we rose and began picking our way toward the +village, half a mile distant. Our route led along a narrow path between +the muddy, watery road on one side and a still more muddy, watery +taro-patch on the other. Without a light to guide our steps, we slipped, +now with one foot into the road, now with the other into the taro-patch, +and by the time we emerged into the level cactus-field around the church +we were covered with mud to our knees.</p> + +<p>Pai-ku-li lived nearly a mile beyond the village, but close by the +church lived Mrs. W——, whose place I had taken as English teacher in +the school. We knocked at her door to beg for a light, and when she +found what the matter was she made us come in, muddy and dripping as we +were, and put on some dry clothes, while her husband, pulling on his +boots, went for Pai-ku-li. She begged me to stay all night, saying that +she would not trust her life with the girls at such a time—they might +attempt to poison us or to burn the house down—but I thanked her for +her hospitality and lighted our lantern, and we started back as soon as +Mr. W—— returned saying that Pai-ku-li would come. We listened for +the sound of his horse's feet, for we had planned to ride across the +river, one at a time, behind Pai-ku-li, but he did not overtake us, and +we waited at the river nearly half an hour. One span of the bridge +remained, and as we stood on it waiting, listening to the flapping of +the cocoanut fronds in the night wind and the hoarse murmuring and +occasional roar of the ocean, I thought of that line of Longfellow's—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I stood on the bridge at midnight—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and laughed to myself at the contrast between the poetical and the +actual. Still, Pai-ku-li did not come, and, growing anxious on Miss +G——'s account, we resolved to cross as we had before. Again we went +down into the cold flood, again our light was quenched and our feet +nearly swept from under us, but we reached the opposite side in safety. +As we crossed the lawn we saw every window lighted, and knew by the +sounds of yelling and singing and laughing that the girls were still +raving. Miss G—— sat quietly in the parlor. She had been up stairs to +try to reason with the girls, but they drowned her voice with hooting +and reviling. Pai-ku-li came a little later, but he had no better +success. He remained with us that night and all the next day. The +screaming up stairs continued till two or three o'clock at night, and +began again as soon as the first girl woke. Early next morning a fleet +messenger started to Honolulu, and just at dusk two gentlemen, the +sheriff and Mr. P——, who was Miss G——'s brother-in-law and president +of the board of trustees of Waialua Seminary, rode up on foaming horses. +A court was held in the school-room, many natives—a few of the better +class who disapproved of the rebellion, and more of the lower class who +upheld the rebels—being present as spectators, but no one interrupting +the prompt and stern proceedings of Mr. P——. Elizabeth Aukai was +whipped on her bare feet and legs below the knee until she burst out +crying and begged for mercy and asked Miss G——'s forgiveness for +biting her. Then she and the other rebels were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> expelled, and the +sheriff took them away that night. Those who lived on other islands were +sent home by the first schooner leaving Honolulu. Thus ended the +rebellion at Waialua school.</p> + +<p>The remaining month of my stay passed in peace and quietness. The need +for my assistance was less after the expulsion of so many girls, but I +remained in order that Miss G—— might take a short vacation and the +rest she so much needed. During her absence Miss P—— and I carried on +the school. A few days after the storm a little native boy brought to +the seminary the shawl which had been washed from my shoulders the night +I went through the river. He had found it lying on the beach half a mile +below the ford. It had been washed out to sea and returned again by the +waves. After that we called it "the travelled shawl." Every Monday +morning the toot of the postman's horn was heard in the village, and one +of us immediately went across to get the mail. The bridge being gone, we +had to wade the river at the shallowest place, near the sea. When I +waded across on such occasions I usually found on the opposite shore a +group of half-naked little natives who drew near to watch with silent +interest the process of buttoning my shoes with a button-hook. The whole +school waded across to church on Sundays.</p> + +<p>The population of the village, with the exception of two or three +families, was composed of natives and half-whites of the lower class. +Heathen superstition mingled with modern vice. In some instances men and +women lived together without the ceremony of marriage. Beyond the +village the cane-fields began, and beyond them, at the foot of the +mountains, lived a better class of natives, moral and industrious. Here, +too, were the cane-mills and the residences of the planters. I remember +one pretty little cottage with walls of braided grass and wooden roof +and floor, surrounded by cool, vine-shaded verandas. It stood in the +middle of a cane-plantation, and was the home of an Englishman and his +wife, both highly cultivated and genial, companionable people. He was a +typical Englishman in appearance, stout and ruddy, and wore a blue +flannel suit and the white head-covering worn by his countrymen in +India. She was a graceful little creature with appealing dark eyes, and +looked too frail to have ever borne hardship or cruelty, yet she had +known little else all her early life. She had been left an orphan in +England, and had been sent out to Australia to make her living as a +governess. She was thrown among brutal, coarse-mannered people, and +received harsh treatment and suffered many vicissitudes of fortune. +Finally, her husband met and loved and married her, and lifted her out +of that hard life into one which appeared by contrast a heaven of peace +and kindness and affection. She often said frankly, "That was the +happiest event of my life. I can never be thankful enough to him or love +him enough. Sometimes I dream I am back again enduring that dreadful +life in Australia, and when I wake and realize that I am here in our own +little cottage, thousands of miles from Australia, I am freshly happy +and grateful."</p> + +<p>Near the foot of the mountains was a Catholic church and a school, round +which a little village had grown up. The self-sacrificing efforts of the +teachers have been productive of good among the natives, but there seems +little hope of any co-operation between the Protestant missionaries and +them.</p> + +<p>When the time came for me to return to Honolulu, Miss P—— offered to +accompany me, and suggested that instead of returning by the way I came +we should take the longer way and complete the circuit of the island. As +the road lay directly along the sea-coast the entire distance, there was +no danger of our losing our way. Miss P—— rode Calico, the missionary +steed, and I hired a white horse of Nakaniella (Nathaniel), one of the +patrons of the school, choosing it in preference to a bay brought for my +inspection the night before we started by a sullen-looking native from +the village. When we had gone two or three miles on our way we heard the +sound of furious galloping behind us, and looking back saw this native, +with a face like a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span> thunder-cloud, approaching us on his bay horse. +Reaching us, he insisted on my dismounting and taking his horse, saying +that I had promised to hire it the night before. Miss P——, being able +to speak Hawaiian, answered for me without slackening our pace. She +said, in reply to his demands, that the wahine haole had not promised to +take his horse; that she would not pay him for his time and trouble in +bringing over the horse that morning and riding after us; that he might +ride all the way to Honolulu with us or go to law about the matter, both +of which he threatened. Fuming with wrath, he rode along with us for a +mile or two, breathing out threatenings and slaughter in vigorous +Hawaiian: then, uttering the spiteful wish, "May your horses throw you +and break your necks!" he turned and rode back toward Waialua.</p> + +<p>We passed through the ruins of a once-populous village: stone walls +bordered the road for a mile or more, and back of them were the stone +foundations of native houses and <i>heiaus</i> (temples). Pandanus trees, +with roots like stilts or props that lifted them two or three feet from +the ground, grew inside the deserted enclosures: long grass waved from +the chinks and crevices. It was a mournful reminder of the decay of the +Hawaiian race. Just beyond the ruined village a sluggish creek flowed +into the sea. At the mouth of the valley whence it issued stood two or +three native huts. A man wearing a malo was up on the roof of one, +thatching it with grass. Riding near, we hailed him and inquired about a +quicksand which lay just ahead and which we must cross. He told us to +avoid the <i>makai</i> side and keep to the <i>mouka</i> side. We followed his +directions, and crossed in safety. For all practical purposes there are +but two directions in the islands—<i>mouka</i>, meaning toward the +mountains, and <i>makai</i>, toward the sea.</p> + +<p>We rode all the forenoon over a level strip of grassy open country +bordering the sea, with here and there a native hut near a clump of +cocoanuts or a taro-patch. Toward noon we passed fenced pastures in +which many horses were grazing, and came in sight of a picturesque +cottage near the shore. Miss G—— had told us that on the lawn in front +of this cottage were two curious old stone idols which had been +discovered in a fish-pond, and we rode up to the gate intending to ask +permission to enter and look at them. A Chinese servant let us in, and +the owner, an Englishman who lived here during part of the year, came +and showed us the idols, and then invited us inside his pretty cottage +and gave us a lunch of bread and butter and guava jelly and oranges. The +walls and ceilings were of native wood, of the kinds used in delicate +cabinet-work and were polished until they shone. The floor was covered +with fine straw matting, and around the room were ranged easy-chairs and +sofas of willow and rattan. In one corner stood a piano in an ebony +case, and on a koa-wood centre-table were a number of fine photographs +and works of art. Hanging baskets filled with blooming plants hung in +each window and in the veranda. Altogether, it was the prettiest +hermitage imaginable.</p> + +<p>Riding along that afternoon through a country much like that we had +passed over in the morning, we heard from a native hut the sound of the +mournful Hawaiian wail, "Auea! auea!" (pronounced like the word "away" +long drawn out). To our inquiry if any one was dead within, a woman +answered, "No, but that some friends had come from a distance on a +visit." I have frequently seen two Hawaiian friends or relations who had +not met for a long time express their emotions at seeing one another +again, not by kissing and laughing and joyful exclamations, but by +sitting down on the ground and wailing. Perhaps it was done in +remembrance of their long separation and of the changes that had taken +place during that time. The native mode of kissing consists in rubbing +noses together.</p> + +<p>Not far from this place we passed a Mormon settlement, a little colony +sent out from Utah. The group of bare white buildings was some distance +back from the road, and we did not stop to visit them. Near by was a +<i>hou</i>-tree swamp,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> a spongy, marshy place where cattle were eating grass +that grew under water. They would reach down until their ears were +almost covered, take a mouthful and lift up their heads while they +chewed it. Thus far on our journey there had been a level plain two or +three miles wide between the sea and the mountains, but here the +mountains came close down to the sea, leaving only a little strip of +land along the beach. High, stern cliffs with strange profiles, such as +a lion, a canoe and a gigantic hen on her nest, frowned upon us as we +rode along their base. We passed a cold bubbling spring which had worn a +large basin for itself in the rock. It had formerly been the +bathing-place of a chief, and therefore taboo to the common people. In +one of our gallops along the beach my stirrup-strap broke, and we +stopped in front of a solitary hut to ask for a stout string. A squid +was drying on a pole and scenting the air with its fishy odors. In +answer to our call an old man in a calico shirt came out of the hut, +and, taking some strips of <i>hou</i>-bark, twisted them into a strong string +and fastened the stirrup. I gave him a real, and he exclaimed "Aloha!" +with apparently as much surprise and delight as if we had enriched him +for life.</p> + +<p>We rode through a little village at the mouth of a beautiful green +valley, forded a river that ran through it, and passing under more high +cliffs came about four in the afternoon to Kahana, our stopping-place +for the night. It was a little cluster of houses at the head of a bay or +inlet of the sea, where the lovely transparent water was green as grass, +and stood in the opening of a valley enclosed by high, steep +mountain-walls, with sharp ridges down their sides clothed with rich +forests. All around us grew delicate, luxuriant ferns, of which there +are one hundred and fifty varieties in the islands. Along the shores of +the bay some women were wading, their dresses held above their knees, +picking shellfish and green sea-moss off the rocks for supper. We rode +up to the cottage of Kekoa, a native minister who had studied under Miss +P——'s father. His half-Chinese, half-native wife was in a grass hut at +the back of the house, and she came immediately to take our horses, +saying that her husband was at the church, but would be at home soon. +Then opening the door, she told us to go inside and rest ourselves. It +was a pretty cottage, with floors and walls of wood and a grass roof. +Braided mats of palm and pandanus-leaves were on the floor, and on the +walls hung portraits of the Hawaiian royal family and Generals Lee and +Grant. It had two rooms—a sitting-room and a bedroom—the first +furnished with a table and chairs, the latter with a huge high-posted +bedstead with a canopy over it. Altogether, it was much above the common +native houses, and was evidently not used every day, but kept for the +reception of guests—travelling ministers and the like.</p> + +<p>When Kekoa came he welcomed us warmly on account of the attachment he +had for Miss P——'s father, and told us to consider the house ours as +long as it pleased us to stay. He sent his wife to catch a chicken, and +soon set before us on the table in the sitting-room a supper consisting +of boiled chicken, rice, baked taro, coarse salt from the bay, and +bananas. We overlooked the absence of bread, which the natives know not +of, and shared the use of the one knife and fork between us. Our host +waited on us, his wife bringing the food to the door and handing it to +him. After supper other natives came in, and Miss P—— conversed with +them in Hawaiian. Being tired and stiff from my long ride, I went into +the next room and lay down on the bed. Mrs. Kekoa came in presently and +began to lomi-lomi me. She kneaded me with her hands from head to foot, +just as a cook kneads dough, continuing the process for nearly an hour, +although I begged her several times to stop lest she should be tired. At +the end of that time all sensation of fatigue and stiffness was gone and +I felt fresh and well. Kekoa and his wife slept in a grass hut several +rods farther up the valley, and Miss P—— and I had the house to +ourselves. In the middle of the night we were awakened by the sound of a +man talking in through the open window of our room. We both thought for +a moment that it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span> was our persecutor of the morning who had followed us +as he had threatened, but it proved to be a native from the head of the +valley who wanted to see Kekoa. Miss P—— directed him to the grass hut +where our host slept, and he went away, and we were not disturbed again. +Next morning we had breakfast like the supper, and asked for our horses. +Kekoa and his wife begged us to stay longer, but we could not, and +parted from them with much regret. We afterward sent them some large +photographs of scenes in Honolulu, and received an affectionate message +from them in return. I look back to Kahana as a sort of Happy Valley, +and dream sometimes of going back and seeing again its beautiful +pale-green bay, its glittering blue sea, its grand mountain-walls +clothed in richest verdure, and renewing my acquaintance with its +kind-hearted people. Several natives gathered to say good-bye, and two +of them rode with us out of the valley and saw us fairly on our way.</p> + +<p>We rode past cane-plantations fenced with palm-tree trunks or hedged +with huge prickly pear; past thickets of wild indigo and castor bean; +through guava-jungles, where we pulled and ate the ripe fruit, yellow +outside and pink within; past large fish-ponds that had been constructed +for the chiefs in former days; past rice-fields where Chinese were +scaring away the birds; past threshing-floors where Chinese were +threshing rice; past <i>kamani</i> trees (from Tahiti) that looked like +umbrellas slanting upward; past a flock of mina-birds brought from +Australia; past aloe-plants and vast thickets of red and yellow lantana +in blossom, reaching as high as our horses' necks.</p> + +<p>We dismounted in front of a little grass hut where we heard the sound of +a tappa-pounder, and went to the door. An old native woman, with her +arms tattooed with India-ink, was sitting on a mat spread on the ground, +with a sheet of moist red tappa lying over a beam placed on the ground +in front of her, and a four-sided mallet in her hand. Beside her sat a +young half-white girl with a large tortoise-shell comb in her hair and a +fat little dog in her arms. We asked if we could come in and see the +tappa. The old woman said "Yes," and displayed it with some pride. She +was making it to give to Queen Emma, hence the pains she was taking with +the coloring and the pattern. The bark of a shrub resembling our pawpaw +tree is steeped in water until it becomes a mass of pulp. Then it is +laid on the heavy beam and beaten with the tappa-pounder, and pulled and +stretched until it becomes a square sheet with firm edges, about as +thick as calico and six or eight feet square. The juice of berries or +dye from the bark of trees furnishes the coloring, and the pattern is +determined by the figures cut in the tappa-pounder. Some fine mats +rolled-up in one corner and some braided baskets on the wall were also +the work of this tappa-maker.</p> + +<p>We passed through several villages as we neared our journey's end, and +the scenery grew more interesting. The palm trees on the beach framed +views of little islands bathed in sea-mist which lay half a mile or more +from the shore. Narrow green valleys with high steep walls, down whose +sides flashed bright waterfalls, opened to view one after another on the +mouka or inland side. At the mouth of one we saw a twig of <i>ohia</i>, or +native apple tree, placed carefully between two stones. Some +superstitious native had put it there as an offering, that the goddess +of that valley might not roll down rocks on him and kill him. The Pali, +a stupendous perpendicular cliff four thousand feet high, faces the sea +a few miles from Honolulu. We came in sight of it early in the +afternoon, and stopped on a grassy knoll near a clear stream to eat our +lunch and allow our horses to graze. The hardest part of the whole +journey lay immediately before us. A zigzag path has been cut up the +face of the cliff, but it is so steep and narrow that carriages cannot +pass over it, and it is with much exertion and heavy panting that it can +be climbed by man or beast. The face of the cliff is hung with vines and +ferns, and at its base grow palms and the rich vegetation of the +tropics. It is the grandest bit of scenery on Oahu. We rode our horses +to the foot of the Pali: then, out of compassion for them,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span> dismounted +and led them up the long steep path, stopping several times to rest. On +the way some natives passed us on horseback, racing up the Pali! At the +top we stood a while in silence, gazing at the magnificent prospect +spread out below us. We could see miles of the road we had +come—silvery-green cane-plantations, little villages with white +church-spires, rich groves of palm, kukui and koa, and the sea rising +like a dark blue wall all around the horizon. Then we mounted and turned +our faces toward Honolulu. On either side were lofty mountain-walls, +with perpendicular sides clothed with vivid green and hung with silvery +waterfalls. We were entering the city by Nuannu ("Cold Spring") Valley, +the most delightful and fashionable suburb. Here were Queen Emma's +residence, set in the midst of extensive and beautiful grounds, the +Botanical Gardens, the residence of the American minister, the royal +mausoleum and the house and gardens once occupied by Kalumma, a former +queen. Crowds of gayly-dressed natives galloped past us as we neared the +city, wearing wreaths of fern and flowers. One man carried a half-grown +pig in a rope net attached to his stirrup: it looked tired of life. So, +under the arching algaroba and monkey-pod trees that shade Nuannu +Avenue, and past the royal palms that grace the yards, we rode into +beautiful Honolulu.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Louise Coffin Jones</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FINDELKIND_OF_MARTINSWAND_A_CHILDS_STORY" id="FINDELKIND_OF_MARTINSWAND_A_CHILDS_STORY"></a>FINDELKIND OF MARTINSWAND: A CHILD'S STORY.</h2> + + +<p>There was a little boy a year or two since who lived under the shadow of +Martinswand. Most people know, I should suppose, that the Martinswand is +that mountain in the Oberinnthal where, several centuries ago, brave +Kaiser Max lost his footing as he stalked the chamois and fell upon a +ledge of rock, and stayed there, in mortal peril, for thirty hours, till +he was rescued by the strength and agility of a Tyrol hunter—an angel +in the guise of a hunter, as the chronicles of the time prefer to say. +The Martinswand is a grand mountain, being one of the spurs of the +greater Sonnstein, and rises precipitously, looming, massive and lofty, +like a very fortress for giants, where it stands right across that road +which, if you follow it long enough, takes you on through Zirl to +Landeck—old, picturesque, poetic Landeck, where Frederic of the Empty +Pockets rhymed his sorrows in ballads to his people—and so on, by +Bludenz, into Switzerland itself, by as noble a highway as any traveller +can ever desire to traverse on a summer's day. The Martinswand is within +a mile of the little burg of Zirl, where the people, in the time of +their kaiser's peril, came out with torches and bells, and the Host +lifted up by their priest, and all prayed on their knees underneath the +gaunt pile of limestone, which is the same to-day as it was then, whilst +Kaiser Max is dust. The Martinswand soars up very steep and very +majestic, bare stone at its base and all along its summit crowned with +pine woods; and on the other side of the road that runs onward to Zirl +are a little stone church, quaint and low, and gray with age, and a +stone farm-house and cattle-sheds and timber-sheds of wood that is +darkly brown from time; and beyond these are some of the most beautiful +meadows in the world, full of tall grass and countless flowers, with +pools and little estuaries made by the brimming Inn River that flows by +them, and beyond the river the glaciers of the Sonnstein and the Selrain +and the wild Arlberg region, and the golden glow of sunset in the west, +most often seen from here through a veil of falling rain.</p> + +<p>At this farm-house, with Martinswand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> towering above it and Zirl a mile +beyond, there lived, and lives still, a little boy who bears the old +historical name of Findelkind. His father, Otto Korner, was the last of +a sturdy race of yeomen who had fought with Hofer and Haspinger, and had +been free men always.</p> + +<p>Findelkind came in the middle of seven other children, and was a pretty +boy of nine years old, with slenderer limbs and paler cheeks than his +rosy brethren, and tender, dreamy, dark-blue eyes that had the look, his +mother told him, of seeking stars in midday—<i>de chercher midi à +quatorze heures</i>, as the French have it. He was a good little lad, and +seldom gave any trouble from disobedience, though he often gave it from +forgetfulness. His father angrily complained that he was always in the +clouds—that is, he was always dreaming—and so very often would spill +the milk out of the pails, chop his own fingers instead of the wood, and +stay watching the swallows when he was sent to draw water. His brothers +and sisters were always making fun of him: they were sturdier, ruddier +and merrier children than he was, loved romping and climbing and +nutting, thrashing the walnut trees and sliding down snow-drifts, and +got into mischief of a more common and childish sort than Findelkind's +freaks of fancy. For indeed he was a very fanciful little boy: +everything around had tongues for him, and he would sit for hours among +the long rushes on the river's edge, trying to imagine what the wild +green-gray water had found in its wanderings, and asking the water-rats +and the ducks to tell him about it; but both rats and ducks were too +busy to attend to an idle little boy, and never spoke, which vexed him.</p> + +<p>Findelkind, however, was very fond of his books: he would study day and +night in his little ignorant, primitive fashion. He loved his missal and +his primer, and could spell them both out very fairly, and was learning +to write of a good priest in Zirl, where he trotted three times a week +with his two little brothers. When not at school he was chiefly set to +guard the sheep and the cows, which occupation left him very much to +himself, so that he had many hours in the summer-time to stare up to +the skies and wonder, wonder, wonder about all sorts of things; while in +the winter—the long, white, silent winter, when the post-wagons ceased +to run, and the road into Switzerland was blocked, and the whole world +seemed asleep except for the roaring of the winds—Findelkind, who still +trotted over the snow to school in Zirl, would dream still, sitting on +the wooden settle by the fire when he came home again under Martinswand. +For the worst—or the best—of it all was that he was Findelkind also.</p> + +<p>This was what was always haunting him. He was Findelkind, and to bear +this name seemed to him to mark him out from all other children and +dedicate him to Heaven. One day three years before, when he had been +only six years old, the priest in Zirl, who was a very kindly and +cheerful man, and amused the children as much as he taught them, had not +allowed Findelkind to leave the school to go home because the storm of +snow and wind was so violent, but had kept him until the worst should +pass, with one or two other little lads who lived some way off, and had +let the boys roast apples and chestnuts by the stove in his little room, +and while the wind howled and the blinding snow fell without had told +the children the story of another Findelkind, an earlier Findelkind, who +had lived in the flesh as far back as 1381, and had been a little +shepherd-lad—"just like you," said the good man, looking at the little +boys munching their roast crabs—"over there, above Stuben, where Danube +and Rhine meet and part." The pass of Arlberg is even still so bleak and +bitter that few care to climb there: the mountains around are drear and +barren, and snow lies till midsummer, and even longer sometimes. "But in +the early ages," said the priest—and this is quite a true tale, which +the children heard with open eyes, and mouths only not open because they +were full of crabs and chestnuts,—"in the early ages," said the priest +to them, "the Arlberg was far more dreary than it is now. There was only +a mule-track over it, and no refuge for man or beast; so that wanderers +and peddlers,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span> and those whose need for work or desire for battle +brought them over that frightful pass, perished in great numbers and +were eaten by the bears and the wolves. The little shepherd-boy, +Findelkind—who was a little boy five hundred years ago, remember," +added the priest—"was sorely disturbed and distressed to see those poor +dead souls in the snow winter after winter, and to see the blanched +bones lie on the bare earth unburied when summer melted the snow. It +made him unhappy, very unhappy; and what could he do, he a little boy +keeping sheep? He had as his wage two florins a year—that was all—but +his heart rose high and he had faith in God. Little as he was, he said +to himself he would try and do something, so that year after year those +poor lost travellers and beasts should not perish so. He said nothing to +anybody, but he took the few florins he had saved up, bade his master +farewell and went on his way begging—a little fourteenth-century boy, +with long, straight hair and a girdled tunic, as you see them," +continued the priest, "in the miniatures in the black-letter missal that +lies upon my desk. No doubt Heaven favored him very strongly, and the +saints watched over him; still, without the boldness of his own courage +and the faith in his own heart they would not have done so. I suppose, +too, that when knights in their armor and soldiers in their camps saw +such a little fellow all alone they helped him, and perhaps struck some +blows for him, and so sped him on his way and protected him from robbers +and from wild beasts. Still, be sure that the real shield and the real +reward that served Findelkind of Arlberg was the pure and noble purpose +that armed him night and day. Now, history does not tell us where +Findelkind went, nor how he fared, nor how long he was about it, but +history <i>does</i> tell us that the little barefooted, long-haired boy, +knocking so boldly at castle-gates and city-walls in the name of Christ +and Christ's poor brethren, did so well succeed in his quest that before +long he had returned to his mountain-home with means to have a church +and a rude dwelling built, where he lived with six other brave and +charitable souls, dedicating themselves to St. Christopher, and going +out night and day, to the sound of the Angelus, seeking the lost and +weary. This is really what Findelkind of Arlberg did five centuries ago, +and did so well that his fraternity of St. Christopher twenty years +after numbered amongst its members archdukes, prelates and knights +without number, and lasted as a great order down to the days of Joseph +II. This is what Findelkind in the fourteenth century did, I tell you. +Bear like faith in your hearts, my children, and, though your generation +is a harder one than his, because it is without faith, yet you shall +move mountains, because Christ and St. Christopher will be with you."</p> + +<p>Then the good man, having said that, blessed them and left them alone to +their chestnuts and crabs and went into his own oratory to prayer. The +other boys laughed and chattered, but Findelkind sat very quietly +thinking of his namesake all the day after, and for many days and weeks +and months this story haunted him. A little boy had done all that, and +this little boy had been called Findelkind—Findelkind, just like +himself.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful story, and yet it tortured him. If the good man had +known how the history would root itself in the child's mind perhaps he +would never have told it, for night and day it vexed Findelkind, and yet +seemed beckoning to him and crying, "Go, thou, and do likewise!"</p> + +<p>But what could he do?</p> + +<p>There was the snow, indeed, and there were the mountains, as in the +fourteenth century, but there were no travellers lost. The diligence did +not go into Switzerland after autumn, and the country-people who went by +on their mules and in their sledges to Innspruck knew their way very +well, and were never likely to be adrift on a winter's night or eaten by +a wolf or a bear.</p> + +<p>When spring came Findelkind sat by the edge of the bright pure water +amongst the flowering grasses and felt his head heavy. Findelkind of +Arlberg, who was in heaven now, must look down, he fancied, and think +him so stupid and so selfish sitting there. The first Findelkind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[Pg 441]</a></span> a few +centuries before had trotted down on his bare feet from his +mountain-pass, and taken his little crook and gone out boldly over all +the land on his pilgrimage, and knocked at castle-gates and city-walls +in Christ's name and for love of the poor. That was to do something +indeed!</p> + +<p>This poor little living Findelkind would look at the miniatures in the +priest's missal, in one of which there was the fourteenth-century boy +with long hanging hair and a wallet and bare feet, and he never doubted +that it was the portrait of the blessed Findelkind who was in heaven; +and he wondered if he looked like a little boy there or if he were +changed to the likeness of an angel.</p> + +<p>"He was a boy just like me," thought the poor little fellow; and he felt +so ashamed of himself, so much ashamed; and the priest had told him to +try and do the same. He brooded over it so much, and it made him so +anxious and so vexed, that his brothers ate his porridge and he did not +notice it, his sisters pulled his curls and he did not feel it, his +father brought a stick down on his back and he only started and stared, +and his mother cried because he was losing his mind and would grow daft, +and even his mother's tears he scarcely saw. He was always thinking of +Findelkind in heaven.</p> + +<p>When he went for water he spilt one half; when he did his lessons, he +forgot the chief part; when he drove out the cow, he let her munch the +cabbages; and when he was set to watch the oven, he let the loaves burn, +like great Alfred. He was always busied thinking, "Little Findelkind +that is in heaven did so great a thing: why may not I? I ought! I +ought!" What was the use of being named after Findelkind that was in +heaven unless one did something great too?</p> + +<p>Next to the church there is a little stone sort of shed with two arched +openings, and from it you look into the tiny church with its crucifixes +and relics, or out to great, bold, sombre Martinswand, as you like best; +and in this spot Findelkind would sit hour after hour while his brothers +and sisters were playing, and look up at the mountains or on to the +altar, and wish and pray and vex his little soul most woefully; and his +ewes and his lambs would crop the grass about the entrance, and bleat to +make him notice them and lead them farther afield, but all in vain. Even +the dear sheep he hardly heeded, and his pet ewes Katte and Greta and +the big ram Zips rubbed their soft noses in his hand unnoticed. So the +summer passed away—the summer that is so short in the mountains, and +yet so green and so radiant, with the torrents tumbling through the +flowers, and the hay tossing in the meadows, and the lads and lasses +climbing to cut the rich sweet grass of the alps. The short summer +passed as fast as a dragon-fly flashes by, all green and gold, in the +sun; and it was near autumn once more, and still Findelkind was always +dreaming and wondering what he could do for the good of St. Christopher; +and the longing to do it all came more and more into his little heart, +and he puzzled his brain till his head ached.</p> + +<p>One autumn morning, whilst yet it was dark, Findelkind made up his mind, +and rose before his brothers and stole down stairs and out into the air, +as it was easy to do, because the house-door never was bolted. He had +nothing with him, he was barefooted, and his school-satchel was slung +behind him, as Findelkind of Arlberg's wallet had been five centuries +before. He took a little staff from the piles of wood lying about, and +went out on to the highroad, on his way to do Heaven's will. He was not +very sure—but that was because he was only nine years old and not very +wise—but Findelkind that was in heaven had begged for the poor: so +would he.</p> + +<p>His parents were very poor, but he did not think of them as in want at +any time, because he always had his bowlful of porridge and as much +bread as he wanted to eat. This morning he had had nothing to eat: he +wished to be away before any one could question him.</p> + +<p>It was still dusk in the fresh autumn morning; the sun had not risen +behind the glaciers of the Stubaythal, and the road was scarcely seen; +but he knew it very well, and he set out bravely, saying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[Pg 442]</a></span> his prayers to +Christ and to St. Christopher and to Findelkind that was in heaven. He +was not in any way clear as to what he would do, but he thought he would +find some great thing to do somewhere lying like a jewel in the dust; +and he went on his way in faith, as Findelkind of Arlberg had done. His +heart beat high, and his head lost its aching pains, and his feet felt +light—as light as if there were wings to his ankles. He would not go to +Zirl, because Zirl he knew so well, and there could be nothing very +wonderful waiting there; and he ran fast the other way. When he was +fairly out from under the shadow of Martinswand he slackened his pace, +and saw the sun come up on his path and begin to redden the gray-green +water; and the early Eilwagen from Landeck, that had been lumbering +along all the night, overtook him. He would have run after it and called +out to the travellers for alms, but he felt ashamed: his father had +never let him beg, and he did not know how to begin. The Eilwagen rolled +on through the autumn mud, and that was one chance lost. He was sure +that the first Findelkind had not felt ashamed when he had knocked at +the first castle-gate.</p> + +<p>By and by, when he could not see Martinswand by turning his head back +ever so, he came to an inn that used to be a post-house in the old days +when men travelled only by road. A woman was feeding chickens in the +bright clear red of the cold daybreak. Findelkind timidly held out his +hand. "For the poor," he murmured, and doffed his cap.</p> + +<p>The old woman looked at him sharply: "Oh, is it you, little Findelkind? +Have you run off from school? Be off with you home! I have mouths enough +to feed here."</p> + +<p>Findelkind went away, and began to learn that it is not easy to be a +prophet or a hero in one's own country. He trotted a mile farther and +met nothing. At last he came to some cows by the wayside, and a man +tending them. "Would you give me something to help make a monastery?" he +said timidly, and once more took off his cap.</p> + +<p>The man gave a great laugh: "A fine monk you! And who wants more of +those lazy drones? Not I."</p> + +<p>Findelkind never answered: he remembered the priest had said that the +years he lived in were very hard ones, and men in them had no faith. Ere +long he came to a big walled house, with turrets and grated +casements—very big it looked to him—like one of the first Findelkind's +own castles. His heart beat loud against his side, but he plucked up his +courage and knocked as loud as his heart was beating. He knocked and +knocked, but no answer came. The house was empty. But he did not know +that: he thought it was that the people within were cruel, and he went +sadly onward with the road winding before him, and on his right the +beautiful, impetuous gray river, and on his left the green Mittelgebirge +and the mountains that rose behind it. By this time the sun was high: +its rays were glowing on the red of the cranberry-shrubs and the blue of +the bilberry-boughs; he was hungry and thirsty and tired. But he did not +give in for that: he held on steadily. He knew that there was near, +somewhere near, a great city that the people called Sprugg, and thither +he had resolved to go. By noontide he had walked eight miles, and come +to a green place where men were shooting at targets, the tall thick +grass all around them; and a little way farther off was a train of +people chanting and bearing crosses and dressed in long flowing robes.</p> + +<p>The place was the Höttinger Au, and the day was Saturday, and the +village was making ready to perform a miracle-play on the morrow. +Findelkind ran to the robed singing-folk, quite sure that he saw the +people of God. "Oh, take me! take me!" he cried to them—"do take me +with you to do Heaven's work!"</p> + +<p>But they pushed him aside for a crazy little boy that spoilt their +rehearsing.</p> + +<p>"It was only for Hötting-folk," said a lad older than himself. "Get out +of the way with you, liebchen;" and the man who carried the cross +knocked him with force on the head by mere accident, but Findelkind +thought he had meant it.</p> + +<p>Were people so much kinder five centuries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[Pg 443]</a></span> before? he wondered, and felt +sad as the many-colored robes swept on through the grass and the crack +of the rifles sounded sharply through the music of the chanting voices. +He went on footsore and sorrowful, thinking of the castle-doors that had +opened and the city-gates that had unclosed at the summons of the little +long-haired boy painted on the missal.</p> + +<p>He had come now to where the houses were much more numerous, though +under the shade of great trees—lovely old gray houses, some of wood, +some of stone, some with frescoes on them and gold and color and +mottoes, some with deep-barred casements and carved portals and +sculptured figures—houses of the poorer people now, but still memorials +of a grand and gracious time. For he had wandered into the quarter of +St. Nicholas of this fair mountain-city, which he, like his +country-folks, called Sprugg, though the government and the world called +it Innspruck.</p> + +<p>He got out upon a long gray wooden bridge, and looked up and down the +reaches of the river, and thought to himself maybe this was not Sprugg +but Jerusalem, so beautiful it looked with its domes shining golden in +the sun, and the snow of the Patscher Kofl and the Brandjoch behind +them. For little Findelkind had never come so far before.</p> + +<p>As he stood on the bridge so dreaming a hand clutched him and a voice +said, "A whole kreutzer, or you do not pass."</p> + +<p>Findelkind started and trembled. A kreutzer? He had never owned such a +treasure in all his life. "I have no money," he murmured timidly: "I +came to see if I could get money for the poor."</p> + +<p>The keeper of the bridge laughed: "You are a little beggar, you mean? +Oh, very well: then over my bridge you do not go."</p> + +<p>"But it is the city on the other side."</p> + +<p>"To be sure it is the city, but over nobody goes without a kreutzer."</p> + +<p>"I never have such a thing of my own—never, never," said Findelkind, +ready to cry.</p> + +<p>"Then you were a little fool to come away from your home, wherever that +may be," said the man at the bridge-head. "Well, I will let you go, for +you look a baby. But do not beg: that is bad."</p> + +<p>"Findelkind did it."</p> + +<p>"Then Findelkind was a rogue and a vagabond," said the taker of tolls.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, no!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes, yes, little saucebox! and take that," said the man, +giving him a box on the ear, being angry at contradiction.</p> + +<p>Findelkind's head drooped, and he went slowly over the bridge, +forgetting that he ought to have thanked the toll-taker for a free +passage. The world seemed to him very difficult. How had Findelkind done +when he had come to bridges? and oh, how had Findelkind done when he had +been hungry? For this poor little Findelkind was getting very hungry, +and his stomach was as empty as was his wallet.</p> + +<p>A few steps brought him to the Goldenes Dachl. He forgot his hunger and +his pain, seeing the sun shine on all that gold and the curious painted +galleries under it. He thought it was real, solid gold. Real gold laid +out on a house-roof, and the people all so poor! Findelkind began to +muse, and wonder why everybody did not climb up there and take a tile +off and be rich. But perhaps it would be wicked. Perhaps God put the +roof there with all that gold to prove people. Findelkind got +bewildered. If God did such a thing, was it kind?</p> + +<p>His head seemed to swim, and the sunshine went round and round with him. +There went by him just then a very venerable-looking old man with silver +hair: he was wrapped in a long cloak.</p> + +<p>Findelkind pulled at the cloak gently, and the old man looked down. +"What is it, my boy?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Findelkind answered, "I came out to get gold: may I take it off that +roof?"</p> + +<p>"It is not gold, child: it is gilding."</p> + +<p>"What is gilding?"</p> + +<p>"It is a thing made to look like gold: that is all."</p> + +<p>"It is a lie, then!"</p> + +<p>The old man smiled: "Well, nobody thinks so. If you like to put it so, +perhaps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[Pg 444]</a></span> it is. What do you want gold for, you wee thing?"</p> + +<p>"To build a monastery and house the poor."</p> + +<p>The old man's face scowled and grew dark, for he was a Lutheran pastor +from Bavaria. "Who taught you such trash?" he said crossly.</p> + +<p>"It is not trash: it is faith."</p> + +<p>And Findelkind's face began to burn and his blue eyes to darken and +moisten. There was a little crowd beginning to gather, and the crowd was +beginning to laugh. There were some soldiers and rifle-shooters in the +throng, and they jeered and joked, and made fun of the old man in the +long cloak, who grew angry then with the child. "You are a little +idolater and a little impudent sinner," he said wrathfully, and shook +the boy by the shoulder and went away; and the throng that had gathered +round had only poor Findelkind left to tease.</p> + +<p>He was a very poor little boy indeed to look at, with his sheepskin +tunic and his bare feet and legs, and his wallet that never was to get +filled.</p> + +<p>"Where do you come from, and what do you want?" they asked.</p> + +<p>And he answered with a sob in his voice, "I want to do like Findelkind +of Arlberg."</p> + +<p>And then the crowd laughed, not knowing at all what he meant, but +laughing just because they did not know, as crowds always will do.</p> + +<p>And only the big dogs, that are so very big in this country, and are all +loose and free and good-natured citizens, came up to him kindly and +rubbed against him and made friends; and at that tears came into his +eyes and his courage rose, and he lifted his head.</p> + +<p>"You are cruel people to laugh," he said indignantly: "the dogs are +kinder. People did not laugh at Findelkind. He was a little boy just +like me, no better and no bigger, and as poor, and yet he had so much +faith, and the world then was so good, that he left his sheep and got +money enough to build a church and a hospice to Christ and St. +Christopher. And I want to do the same for the poor. Not for myself—no, +for the poor. I am Findelkind too, and Findelkind that is in heaven +speaks to me." Then he stopped, and a sob rose again in his throat.</p> + +<p>"He is crazy," said the people, laughing, yet a little scared; for the +priest at Zirl had said rightly, This is not an age of faith. At that +moment there sounded, coming from the barracks, that used to be the +Schloss in the old days of Kaiser Max and Mary of Burgundy, the sound of +drums and trumpets and the tramp of marching feet. It was one of the +corps of jägers of Tyrol going down from the avenue to the Rudolf Platz, +with their band before them and their pennons streaming. It was a +familiar sight, but it drew the street-throngs to it like magic: the age +is not fond of dreamers, but it is very fond of drums. In almost a +moment the old dark arcades and the river-side and the passages near +were all empty, except for the old women sitting at their stalls of +fruit or cakes or toys. They are wonderful arched arcades, like the +cloisters of a cathedral more than anything else, and the shops under +them are all homely and simple—shops of leather, of furs, of clothes, +of wooden playthings, of sweet, wholesome bread. They are very quaint, +and kept by poor folks for poor folks, but to the dazed eyes of +Findelkind they looked like a forbidden Paradise, for he was so hungry +and so heartbroken, and he had never seen any bigger place than little +Zirl.</p> + +<p>He stood and looked wistfully, but no one offered him anything. Close by +was a stall of splendid purple grapes, but the old woman that kept it +was busy knitting. She only called to him to stand out of her light.</p> + +<p>"You look a poor brat: have you a home?" said another woman, who sold +bridles and whips and horses' bells and the like.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I have a home—by Martinswand," said Findelkind with a sigh.</p> + +<p>The woman looked at him sharply: "Your parents have sent you on an +errand here?"</p> + +<p>"No, I have run away."</p> + +<p>"Run away? Oh, you bad boy! Unless, indeed—are they cruel to you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[Pg 445]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No—very good."</p> + +<p>"Are you a little rogue then, or a thief?"</p> + +<p>"You are a bad woman to think such things," said Findelkind hotly, +knowing himself on how innocent and sacred a quest he was.</p> + +<p>"Bad? I? Oh ho," said the old dame, cracking one of her new whips in the +air, "I should like to make you jump about with this, you thankless +little vagabond! Be off!"</p> + +<p>Findelkind sighed again, his momentary anger passing, for he had been +born with a gentle temper, and thought himself to blame much more +readily than he thought other people were—as, indeed, every wise child +does, only there are so few children—or men—that are wise.</p> + +<p>He turned his head away from the temptation of the bread- and +fruit-stalls, for in truth hunger gnawed him terribly, and wandered a +little to the left. From where he stood he could see the long beautiful +street of Theresa with its oriels and arches, painted windows and gilded +signs, and the steep, gray, dark mountains closing it in at the +distance; but the street frightened him, it looked so grand, and he knew +it would tempt him; so he went where he saw the green tops of some high +elms and beeches. The trees, like the dogs, seemed like friends: it was +the human creatures that were cruel.</p> + +<p>At that moment there came out of the barrack-gates, with great noise of +trumpets and trampling of horses, a group of riders in gorgeous +uniforms, with sabres and chains glancing and plumes tossing. It looked +to Findelkind like a group of knights—those knights who had helped and +defended his namesake with their steel and their gold in the old days of +the Arlberg quest. His heart gave a leap, and he jumped on the dust for +joy, and he ran forward and fell on his knees and waved his cap like a +little mad thing, and cried out, "Oh, dear knights! oh, great soldiers! +help me, fight for me, for the love of the saints! I have come all the +way from Martinswand, and I am Findelkind, and I am trying to serve St. +Christopher like Findelkind of Arlberg."</p> + +<p>But his little swaying body and pleading hands and shouting voice and +blowing curls frightened the horses: one of them swerved, and very +nearly settled the woes of Findelkind for ever and aye by a kick. The +soldier who rode the horse reined him in with difficulty: he was at the +head of the little staff, being indeed no less or more than the general +commanding the garrison, which in this city is some fifteen thousand +strong. An orderly sprang from his saddle and seized the child, and +shook him and swore at him. Findelkind was frightened, but he shut his +eyes and set his teeth, and said to himself that the martyrs must have +had very much worse than these things to suffer in their pilgrimage. He +had fancied these riders were knights—such knights as the priest had +shown him the likeness of in old picture-books—whose mission it had +been to ride through the world succoring the weak and weary and always +defending the right.</p> + +<p>"What are your swords for if you are not knights?" he cried, desperately +struggling in his captor's grip, and seeing through his half-closed lids +the sunshine shining on steel scabbards.</p> + +<p>"What does he want?" asked the officer in command of the garrison, whose +staff all this bright and martial array was. He was riding out from the +barracks to an inspection on the Rudolf Platz. He was a young man, and +had little children himself, and was half amused, half touched, to see +the tiny figure of the dusty little boy.</p> + +<p>"I want to build a monastery like Findelkind of Arlberg, and to help the +poor," said our Findelkind valorously, though his heart was beating like +that of a little mouse caught in a trap, for the horses were trampling +up the dust around him and the orderly's grip was hard.</p> + +<p>The officers laughed aloud; and indeed he looked a poor little scrap of +a figure, very ill able to help even himself.</p> + +<p>"Why do you laugh?" cried Findelkind, losing his terror in his +indignation, and inspired with the courage which a great earnestness +always gives. "You should not laugh. If you were true knights you would +not laugh: you would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[Pg 446]</a></span> fight for me. I am little, I know. I am very +little, but he was no bigger than I, and see what great things he did. +But the soldiers were good in those days: they did not laugh and use bad +words." And Findelkind, on whose shoulder the orderly's hold was still +fast, faced the horses which looked to him as huge as Martinswand, and +the swords which he little doubted were to be sheathed in his heart.</p> + +<p>The officers stared, laughed again, then whispered together, and +Findelkind heard them mutter the word "toll." Findelkind, whose quick +little ears were both strained like a mountain-leveret's, understood +that the great men were saying amongst themselves that it was not safe +for him to be about alone, and that it would be kinder to him to catch +and cage him—the general view with which the world regards enthusiasts.</p> + +<p>He heard, he understood: he knew that they did not mean to help him, +these men with the steel weapons and the huge steeds, but that they +meant to shut him up in a prison—him, little free-born, forest-fed +Findelkind. He wrenched himself out of the soldier's grip as the rabbit +wrenches itself out of the jaws of the trap, even at the cost of leaving +a limb behind, shot between the horses' legs, doubled like a hunted +thing, and spied a refuge. Opposite the avenue of gigantic poplars and +pleasant stretches of grass shaded by other bigger trees there stands a +very famous church—famous alike in the annals of history and of +art—the church of the Franciscans that holds the tomb of Kaiser Max, +though, alas! it holds not his ashes, as his dying desire was that it +should. The church stands here, a noble sombre place, with the Silver +Chapel of Philippina Wessler adjoining it, and in front the fresh cool +avenues that lead to the river and the broad water-meadows, and the +grand road bordered with the painted stations of the Cross.</p> + +<p>There were some peasants coming in from the country driving cows; some +burghers in their carts with fat, slow horses; some little children were +at play under the poplars and the elms; great dogs were lying about on +the grass: everything was happy and at peace except the poor throbbing +heart of little Findelkind, who thought the soldiers were coming after +him to lock him up as mad, and ran and ran as fast as his trembling legs +would carry him, making for sanctuary, as in the old bygone days that he +loved many a soul less innocent than his had done. The wide doors of the +Hof Kirche stood open, and on the steps lay a black and tan hound, +watching no doubt for its master and mistress, who had gone within to +pray. Findelkind in his terror vaulted over the dog, and into the church +tumbled headlong.</p> + +<p>It seemed quite dark, after the brilliant sunshine on the river and the +grass: his forehead touched the stone floor as he fell, and as he raised +himself and stumbled forward, reverent and bareheaded, looking for the +altar to cling to when the soldiers should enter to seize him, his +uplifted eyes fell on the great tomb.</p> + +<p>The tomb seems entirely to fill the church as, with its twenty-four +guardian figures round it, it towers up in the twilight that reigns here +even at midday. There is a stern majesty and grandeur in it which dwarfs +every other monument and mausoleum. It is grim, it is rude, it is +savage, with the spirit of the rough ages that created it; but it is +great with their greatness, it is heroic with their heroism, it is +simple with their simplicity.</p> + +<p>As the awestricken eyes of the terrified child fell on the mass of stone +and bronze the sight smote him breathless. The mailed warriors standing +around it, so motionless, so solemn, filled him with a frozen, nameless +fear. He had never a doubt but that they were the dead arisen. The +foremost that met his eyes were Theodoric and Arthur—the next, grim +Rodolf, father of a dynasty of emperors. There, leaning on their swords, +the three gazed down on him, armored, armed, majestic, serious, guarding +the empty grave, which to the child, who knew nothing of its history, +seemed a bier; and at the feet of Theodoric, who alone of them all +looked young and merciful, poor little desperate Findelkind fell with a +piteous sob, and cried, "I am not mad! Indeed, indeed, I am not mad!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[Pg 447]</a></span></p> + +<p>He did not know that these six figures were but statues of bronze. He +was quite sure they were the dead arisen, and meeting there around that +tomb on which the solitary kneeling knight watched and prayed, +encircled, as by a wall of steel, by these his comrades. He was not +frightened; he was rather comforted and stilled, as with a sudden sense +of some deep calm and certain help.</p> + +<p>Findelkind, without knowing that he was like so many dissatisfied poets +and artists much bigger than himself, dimly felt in his little tired +mind how beautiful and how gorgeous and how grand the world must have +been when heroes and knights like these had gone by in its daily +sunshine and its twilight storms. No wonder Findelkind in heaven had +found his pilgrimage so fair when, if he had needed any help, he had +only had to kneel and clasp these firm mailed limbs, these strong +cross-hilted swords, in the name of Christ and of the poor!</p> + +<p>Theodoric seemed to look down on him with benignant eyes from under the +raised visor, and Findelkind, weeping, threw his small arms closer and +closer round the bronzed knees of the heroic figure and sobbed aloud, +"Help me! help me! Oh, turn the hearts of the people to me, and help me +to do good!"</p> + +<p>But Theodoric answered nothing.</p> + +<p>There was no sound in the dark, hushed church; the gloom grew darker +over Findelkind's eyes; the mighty forms of monarchs and of heroes grew +dim before his sight. He lost consciousness and fell prone upon the +stones at Theodoric's feet, for he had fainted from hunger and emotion.</p> + +<p>When he awoke it was quite evening: there was a lantern held over his +head; voices were muttering curiously and angrily; bending over him were +two priests, a sacristan of the church and his own father. His little +wallet lay by him on the stones, always empty.</p> + +<p>"Liebchen, were you mad?" cried his father, half in rage, half in +tenderness. "The chase you have led me! and your mother thinking you +were drowned! and all the working day lost, running after old women's +tales of where they had seen you! Oh, little fool! little fool! what +was amiss with Martinswand that you must leave it?"</p> + +<p>Findelkind slowly and feebly rose and sat up on the pavement, and looked +up, not at his father, but at the knight Theodoric. "I thought they +would help me to keep the poor," he muttered feebly as he glanced at his +own wallet. "And it is empty, empty!"</p> + +<p>"Are we not poor enough?" cried his father with paternal impatience, +ready to tear his hair with vexation at having such a little idiot for +son. "Must you rove afield to find poverty to help, when it sits cold +enough, the Lord knows, at our own hearth? Oh, little ass! little dolt! +little maniac! fit only for a madhouse! talking to iron figures and +taking them for real men!—What have I done, O Heaven, that I should be +afflicted thus?"</p> + +<p>And the poor man wept, being a good, affectionate soul, but not very +wise, and believing that his boy was mad. Then, seized with sudden rage +once more at thought of his day all wasted and its hours harassed and +miserable through searching for the lost child, he plucked up the light, +slight figure of Findelkind in his own arms, and with muttered thanks +and excuses to the sacristan of the church, bore the boy out with him +into the evening air, and lifted him into a cart which stood there with +a horse harnessed to one side of the pole, as the country-people love to +do, to the risk of their own lives and their neighbors'. Findelkind said +never a word: he was as dumb as Theodoric had been to him; he felt +stupid, heavy, half blind; his father pushed him some bread, and he ate +it by sheer instinct, as a lost animal will do. The cart jogged on, the +stars shone, the great church vanished in the gloom of night.</p> + +<p>As they went through the city toward the river-side and the homeward way +not a single word did his father, who was a silent man at all times, +address to him. Only once as they passed the bridge, "Son," he asked, +"did you run away truly thinking to please God and help the poor?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[Pg 448]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Truly I did," answered Findelkind with a sob in his throat.</p> + +<p>"Then thou wert an ass," said his father. "Didst never think of thy +mother's love and of my toil? Look at home."</p> + +<p>Findelkind was mute. The drive was very long, backward by the same way, +with the river shining in the moonlight and the mountains half covered +with the clouds.</p> + +<p>It was ten by the bells of Zirl when they came once more under the +solemn shadow of grave Martinswand. There were lights moving about the +house, his brothers and sisters were still up, his mother ran out into +the road, weeping and laughing with fear and joy.</p> + +<p>Findelkind himself said nothing. He hung his head. They were too fond of +him to scold him or to jeer at him: they made him go quickly to his bed, +and his mother made him a warm milk-posset and kissed him. "We will +punish thee to-morrow, naughty and cruel one," said his parent. "But +thou art punished enough already, for in thy place little Stefan had the +sheep, and he has lost Katte's lambs, the beautiful twin lambs! I dare +not tell thy father to-night. Dost hear the poor thing mourn? Do not go +afield for thy duty again."</p> + +<p>A pang went through the heart of Findelkind, as if a knife had pierced +it. He loved Katte better than almost any other living thing, and she +was bleating under his window motherless and alone. They were such +beautiful lambs too!—lambs that his father had promised should never be +killed, but be reared to swell the flock.</p> + +<p>Findelkind cowered down in his bed and felt wretched beyond all +wretchedness. He had been brought back, his wallet was empty, and +Katte's lambs were lost. He could not sleep. His pulses were beating +like so many steam-hammers: he felt as if his body were all one great +throbbing heart. His brothers, who lay in the same chamber with him, +were sound asleep: very soon his father and mother also, on the other +side of the wall. Findelkind was alone, wide awake, watching the big +white moon sail past his little casement and hearing Katte bleat. Where +were her poor twin lambs? The night was bitterly cold, for it was +already far on in autumn; the river had swollen and flooded many fields; +the snow for the last week had fallen quite low down on the +mountain-sides. Even if still living the little lambs would die, out on +such a night without the mother or food and shelter of any sort. +Findelkind, whose vivid brain always saw everything that he imagined as +if it were being acted before his eyes, in fancy saw his two dear lambs +floating dead down the swollen tide, entangled in rushes on the flooded +shore, or fallen with broken limbs upon a crest of rocks. He saw them so +plainly that scarcely could he hold back his breath from screaming aloud +in the still night and arousing the mourning wail of the desolate +mother.</p> + +<p>At last he could bear it no longer: his head burned, and his brain +seemed whirling round. At a bound he leaped out of bed quite +noiselessly, slid into his sheepskins, and stole out as he had done the +night before, hardly knowing what he did. Poor Katte was mourning in the +wooden shed with the other sheep, and the wail of her sorrow sounded +sadly across the loud roar of the rushing river. The moon was still +high. Above, against the sky, black and awful with clouds floating over +its summit, was the great Martinswand.</p> + +<p>Findelkind this time called the big dog Waldmar to him, and with the dog +beside him went once more out into the cold and the gloom, whilst his +father and mother, his brothers and sisters, were sleeping, and poor +childless Katte alone was awake. He looked up at the mountain, and then +across the water-swept meadows to the river. He was in doubt which way +to take. Then he thought that in all likelihood the lambs would have +been seen if they had wandered the river-way, and even little Stefan +would have had too much sense to let them go there. So he crossed the +road and began to climb Martinswand. With the instinct of the born +mountaineer he had brought out his crampons with him, and had now +fastened them on his feet: he knew every part and ridge of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[Pg 449]</a></span> +mountains, and had more than once climbed over to that very spot where +Kaiser Max had hung in peril of his life.</p> + +<p>On second thoughts he bade Waldmar go back to the house. The dog was a +clever mountaineer too, but Findelkind did not wish to lead him into +danger. "I have done the wrong, and I will bear the brunt," he said to +himself; for he felt as if he had killed Katte's children, and the +weight of the sin was like lead on his heart, and he would not kill good +Waldmar too.</p> + +<p>His little lantern did not show much light, and as he went higher upward +he lost sight of the moon. The cold was nothing to him, because the +clear still air was one in which he had been reared; and the darkness he +did not mind, because he was used to that also; but the weight of sorrow +upon him he scarcely knew how to bear, and how to find two tiny lambs in +this vast waste of silence and shadow would have puzzled and wearied +older minds than his. Garibaldi and all his household, old soldiers +tried and true, sought all night once upon Caprera on such a quest in +vain. If he could only have awakened his brother Stefan to ask him which +way they had gone! But then, to be sure, he remembered, Stefan must have +told that to all those who had been looking for the lambs from sunset to +nightfall. All alone he began the ascent.</p> + +<p>Time and again, in the glad spring-time and the fresh summer weather, he +had driven his flock upward to eat the grass that grew in the clefts of +the rocks and on the broad green alps. The sheep could not climb to the +highest points, but the goats did, and he with them. Time and again he +had lain on his back in these uppermost heights, with the lower clouds +behind him and the black wings of the birds and the crows almost +touching his forehead, as he lay gazing up into the blue depth of the +sky and dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.</p> + +<p>He would never dream any more now, he thought to himself. His dreams had +cost Katte her lambs, and the world of the dead Findelkind was gone for +ever: gone all the heroes and knights; gone all the faith and the +force; gone every one who cared for the dear Christ and the poor in +pain.</p> + +<p>The bells of Zirl were ringing midnight. Findelkind heard, and wondered +that only two hours had gone by since his mother had kissed him in his +bed. It seemed to him as if long, long nights had rolled away and he had +lived a hundred years. He did not feel any fear of the dark calm night, +lit now and then by silvery gleams of moon and stars. The mountain was +his old familiar friend, and the ways of it had no more terror for him +than these hills here used to have for the bold heart of Kaiser Max. +Indeed, all he thought of was Katte—Katte and the lambs. He knew the +way that the sheep-tracks ran—the sheep could not climb so high as the +goats—and he knew too that little Stefan could not climb so high as he. +So he began his search low down upon Martinswand.</p> + +<p>After midnight the cold increased: there were snow-clouds hanging near, +and they opened over his head, and the soft snow came flying along. For +himself he did not mind it, but alas for the lambs! If it covered them, +how would he find them? And if they slept in it they were dead.</p> + +<p>It was bleak and bare on the mountain-side, though there were still +patches of grass, such as the flocks liked, that had grown since the hay +was cut. The frost of the night made the stone slippery, and even the +irons gripped it with difficulty, and there was a strong wind rising +like a giant's breath, and blowing his small horn lantern to and fro. +Now and then he quaked a little with fear—not fear of the night or the +mountains, but of strange spirits and dwarfs and goblins of ill repute, +said to haunt Martinswand after nightfall. Old women had told him of +such things, though the priest always said that they were only foolish +tales, there being nothing on God's earth wicked save men and women who +had not clean hearts and hands. Findelkind believed the priest; still, +all alone on the side of the mountain, with the snowflakes flying round +him, he felt a nervous thrill that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[Pg 450]</a></span> made him tremble and almost turn +backward. Almost, but not quite, for he thought of Katte and the poor +little lambs lost—and perhaps dead—through his fault.</p> + +<p>The path went zigzag and was very steep; the Siberian pines swayed their +boughs in his face; stones that lay in his path, unseen in the gloom, +made him stumble. Now and then a large bird of the night flew by with a +rushing sound: the air grew so cold that all Martinswand might have been +turning to one huge glacier. All at once he heard through the +stillness—for there is nothing so still as a mountain-side in snow—a +little pitiful bleat. All his terrors vanished, all his memories of +ghost-tales passed away; his heart gave a leap of joy; he was sure it +was the cry of the lambs. He stopped to listen more surely. He was now +many score of feet above the level of his home and of Zirl: he was, as +nearly as he could judge, halfway as high as where the cross in the +cavern marks the spot of the kaiser's peril. The little bleat sounded +above him, and it was very feeble and faint.</p> + +<p>Findelkind set his lantern down, braced himself up by drawing tighter +his old leathern girdle, set his sheepskin cap firm on his forehead, and +went toward the sound as far as he could judge that it might be. He was +out of the woods now: there were only a few straggling pines rooted here +and there in a mass of loose-lying rock and slate. So much he could tell +by the light of the lantern, and the lambs, by the bleating, seemed +still above him.</p> + +<p>It does not perhaps seem very hard labor to hunt about by a dusky light +upon a desolate mountain-side, but when the snow is falling fast, when +the light is only a small circle, wavering yellowish on the white, when +around is a wilderness of loose stones and yawning clefts, when the air +is ice and the hour is past midnight, the task is not a light one for a +man; and Findelkind was a child, like that Findelkind that was in +heaven.</p> + +<p>Long, very long, was his search: he grew hot and forgot all fear, except +a spasm of terror lest his light should burn low and die out. The +bleating had quite ceased now, and there was not even a sigh to guide +him; but he knew that near him the lambs must be, and he did not waver +nor despair.</p> + +<p>He did not pray—praying in the morning had been no use—but he trusted +in God, and he labored hard, toiling to and fro, seeking in every nook +and behind each stone, and straining every muscle and nerve, till the +sweat rolled in a briny dew off his forehead and his curls dripped with +wet. At last, with a scream of joy, he touched some soft, close wool +that gleamed white as the white snow. He knelt down on the ground and +peered behind the stone by the full light of his lantern: there lay the +little lambs—two little brothers, twin brothers, huddled close +together, asleep. Asleep? He was sure they were asleep, for they were so +silent and still.</p> + +<p>He bowed over them and kissed them, and laughed and cried, and kissed +them again. Then a sudden horror smote him: they were so very still. +There they lay, cuddled close, one on another, one little white head on +each little white body, drawn closer than ever together to try and get +warm. He called to them; he touched them; then he caught them up in his +arms, and kissed them again and again and again. Alas! they were frozen +and dead. Never again would they leap in the long green grass, and frisk +with one another, and lie happy by Katte's side: they had died calling +for their mother, and in the long, cold, cruel night only Death had +answered.</p> + +<p>Findelkind did not weep nor scream nor tremble: his heart seemed frozen, +like the dead lambs. It was he who had killed them. He rose up and +gathered them in his arms, and cuddled them in the skirts of his +sheepskin tunic, and cast his staff away that he might carry them; and +so, thus burdened with their weight, set his face to the snow and the +wind once more and began his downward way. Once a great sob shook him: +that was all. Now he had no fear. The night might have been noonday, the +snowstorm might have been summer, for aught that he knew or cared.</p> + +<p>Long and weary was the way, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[Pg 451]</a></span> often he stumbled and had to rest; +often the terrible sleep of the snow lay heavy on his eyelids, and he +longed to lie down and be at rest, as the little brothers were; often it +seemed to him that he would never reach home again. But he shook the +lethargy off him and resisted the longing, and held on his way: he knew +that his mother would mourn for him as Katte mourned for the lambs. At +length, through all difficulty and danger, when his light had spent +itself, and his strength had wellnigh spent itself too, his feet touched +the old highroad. There were flickering torches and many people and loud +cries around the church, as there had been four hundred years before, +when the last sacrament had been said in the valley for the hunter-king +doomed to perish above. His mother, being sleepless and anxious, had +risen long before it was dawn, and had gone to the children's chamber, +and had found the bed of Findelkind empty once more.</p> + +<p>He came into the midst of the people with the two little lambs in his +arms, and he heeded neither the outcries of neighbors nor the frenzied +joy of his mother: his eyes looked straight before him and his face was +white like the snow. "I killed them," he said; and then two great tears +rolled down his cheeks and fell on the little cold bodies of the two +little dead twin brothers.</p> + +<p>Findelkind was very ill for many nights and many days after that. +Whenever he spoke in his fever he always said, "I killed them." Never +anything else. So the dreary winter months went by, while the deep snow +filled up valleys and meadows and covered the great mountains from +summit to base, and all around Martinswand was quite still, save that +now and then the post went by to Zirl, and on the holy days the bells +tolled: that was all. His mother sat between the stove and his bed with +a sore heart; and his father, as he went to and fro between the walls of +beaten snow from the wood-shed to the cattle-byre, was sorrowful, +thinking to himself the child would die and join that earlier Findelkind +whose home was with the saints.</p> + +<p>But the child did not die. He lay weak and wasted and almost motionless +a long time, but slowly, as the spring-time drew near, and the snows on +the lower hills loosened, and the abounding waters coursed green and +crystal-clear down all the sides of the hills, Findelkind revived as the +earth did, and by the time the new grass was springing and the first +blue of the gentian gleamed on the Alps he was well.</p> + +<p>But to this day he seldom plays, and scarcely ever laughs. His face is +sad and his eyes have a look of trouble. Sometimes the priest of Zirl +says of him to others, "He will be a great poet or a great hero some +day." Who knows?</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, in the heart of the child there remains always a weary pain +that lies on his childish life as a stone may lie on a flower. "I killed +them," he says often to himself, thinking of the two little white +brothers frozen to death on Martinswand that cruel night; and he does +the things that are told him, and is obedient, and tries to be content +with the humble daily duties that are his lot, and when he says his +prayers at bedtime always ends them so: "Dear God, do let the little +lambs play with Findelkind that is in heaven."</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Ouida.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[Pg 452]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HORSE-RACING_IN_FRANCE" id="HORSE-RACING_IN_FRANCE"></a>HORSE-RACING IN FRANCE.</h2> + +<h3>CONCLUDING PAPER.</h3> + + +<p>By the end of July the dispersion of the racing fraternity has become +general. Some have gone into the provinces to lead the pleasant life of +the château; some are in the Pyrenees, eating trout and <i>cotelettes +d'izard</i> at Luchon; while those whom the Paris season has quite worn +out, or put in what they would call too "high" a condition, are +refitting at Mont Dore or else at Vichy, which is the Saratoga of +France—with this difference, that nobody goes to Vichy unless he is +really ill, and that very few were ever known to get married there. But +if our friend the sportsman should happen to have nothing the matter +with him, and should know of nothing better to do during the summer than +to go where his equine instincts would lead him, he may spend the month +of July at least in following what is called "the Norman circuit." This +consists of a series of meetings at different places, either on the +coast or very near the Channel, in that green land of Normandy which is +to France what the blue-grass region of Kentucky is to America—the +great horse-raising province of the country. Here the circuit begins +with the Beauvais meeting, always largely attended by reason of its +proximity to Paris and to the numerous châteaux, all occupied at this +season of the year, and in one of which, at Mouchy-le-Chastel, the duc +de Mouchy entertains a large and distinguished company. Sunday and +Tuesday are the days for races at Beauvais, Monday being given up to +pigeon-shooting. Then follow in quick succession the <i>courses</i> of +Amiens, Abbeville, Rouen, Havre and Caen; and in all these places the +daily programme will be found to be a very varied one—too much so, +indeed, to suit the taste of the English, whose notions of the fitness +of things are offended by the sight of a steeple-chase and a flat-race +on the same track. The Normans, on the contrary, finding even this +double attraction insufficient, add to it the excitement of a +trotting-match in harness and under the saddle. And such trotting! +"Allais! marchais!" shouts the starter in good Norman, and away go the +horses, dragging their lumbering, rattling Norman carts, guided by +equally ponderous Norman peasants, over a track that is sure to be heavy +or else too hard—conditions sufficient of themselves to account for the +fact that the time made by these provincial trotters has not by any +means been reduced to figures like the 2.18 of Dexter or the phenomenal +2.14 of Goldsmith Maid. It is possible, however, that this somewhat +primitive condition of things may be gradually bettered by time, and +that when American institutions and customs shall have come to be the +<i>mode</i> in France trotting-races, and perhaps walking-matches and +base-ball, will be developed with the rest; but up to the present time, +it must be confessed, these various amusements have been regarded by the +French public with profound indifference.</p> + +<p>I cannot help feeling the most lively regret that trotting-contests +should have taken no hold upon the fancy of my countrymen, who would +find in their magnificent roads an opportunity for the demonstration of +the practical, every-day value of a good trotter far more favorable than +any possessed by America. But it seems that no considerations of utility +or convenience can prevail against popular prejudices and, above all, +the <i>mode</i>; and we find even the baron d'Étreilles, official handicapper +and starter to the Jockey Club—and therefore an authority—writing this +singular paragraph in <i>Le Sport</i>: "Trotting-races deserve but little +encouragement. The so-called trotting-horse does not, in fact, trot at +all. His pace is forced to such a degree of exaggeration as to lose all +regularity, at the same time that it is rendered valueless for any +practical purpose. The trotter can no more be put to his speed upon an +ordinary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[Pg 453]</a></span> road than can the racer himself. By breaking up the natural +gait of a horse he is made to attain an exceptional speed, it is true, +but in doing so he has contracted an abnormal sort of movement for which +it is impossible to find a name. It is something between a trot and a +racking pace, and with it a first-rate trotter can make four kilomètres +(two miles and a half) in seven minutes and a half, and not much less, +whatever may be said to the contrary. I know that certain time-keepers +have marked this distance as having been done in seven minutes, but this +I consider disputable, to say the least." M. d'Étreilles cites, however, +as an exception to his rules, a horse called Rochester, belonging to the +Prince E. de Beauvan, which trotted nineteen miles in one hour without +breaking or pacing, but when a return bet was proposed, with the +distance increased to twenty miles, the owner of Rochester refused.</p> + +<p>These assertions of the French authority will appear strange enough to +Americans. But we must add that the views of M. d'Étreilles on this +subject are by no means universally shared in France. A writer whose +practical experience and long observation entitle his opinions to much +weight—M. Gayot—goes so far as to say that the American trotters +really form a distinct race. "The Northern States of the Union," he +writes, "have accomplished for the trotter what England has done for the +thoroughbred: by selecting the best—that is to say, the swiftest and +the most enduring—and by breeding from these, there has been fixed in +the very nature of their progeny that wonderful aptitude for speed +which," in direct contradiction to the opinion of M. d'Étreilles, he +declares to be "of the greatest practical utility."</p> + +<p>The administration of the Haras and the Society for the Encouragement of +the Raising of Horses of Half-blood have established special meetings at +which trotting-prizes are given. That these are by no means to be +despised has been proved by M. Jouben's Norman trotter Tentateur, who +last year earned for his owner twenty thousand francs without the bets. +There is a special journal, <i>La France Chevaline</i>, which represents the +interests of the "trot," and its development has been further encouraged +by an appropriation of sixty thousand francs voted this year by the +Chamber. A former officer of the Haras has also set up an establishment +at Vire for the training of trotters. In 1878 a track was laid out at +Maison Lafitte, near Paris, for the trial of trotting-horses, and the +government, in the hope that animals trained to this gait would be sent +to Paris from other countries during the great Exhibition if sufficient +inducement were offered, awarded a sum of sixty-two thousand francs to +be given in premiums. Six races took place on the principal day of the +trials. These were in harness to two- and four-wheeled wagons, and two +of the matches were won by Normans, two by English horses and two by +horses from Russia of the Orloff breed. America was, unfortunately, not +represented. As to the public, it took little interest in the event, +notwithstanding its novelty: the few persons who had come to look on +soon grew tired of it, and after the fourth race not a single spectator +was left upon the stands.</p> + +<p>The marquis de MacMahon, brother of the marshal, used to say that the +gallop was the gait of happy people, the natural movement of women and +of fools. "The three prettiest things in the world," wrote Balzac, "are +a frigate under sail, a woman dancing and a horse at full run." I leave +these opinions, so essentially French, to the judgment of Americans, and +turn to another point of difference in the racing customs of the two +countries.</p> + +<p>In France the practice of recording the <i>time</i> of a race is looked upon +as childish. The reason given is, that horses that have run or trotted +separately against time will often show quite contrary results when +matched against each other, and that the one that has made the shortest +time on the separate trial will frequently be easily beaten on the same +track by the one that showed less speed when tried alone. However this +may be, it appears that the average speed of running races in France has +increased since 1872. At that time it was one minute and two to three +seconds for one thousand mètres (five furlongs);<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[Pg 454]</a></span> for two thousand +mètres (a mile and a quarter), 2m. 8 to 10s.; for three thousand mètres +(one mile seven furlongs), 3m. 34 to 35s.; for four thousand mètres (two +miles and a half), 4m. 30 to 35s. The distance of the Prix Gladiateur +(six thousand two hundred mètres or three and three-quarter miles one +furlong)—the longest in France—is generally accomplished in 8m. 5 to +6s., though Mon Étoile has done it in 7m. 25s. But the mean speed, as we +have said, has been raised since 1872, as it has been in America.</p> + +<p>But let us come back to our Norman circuit, which this digression about +time and trotting interrupted at Rouen. The sleepy old mediæval town on +this occasion rouses itself from its dreams of the past and awakens to +welcome the crowd of Norman farmers who come flocking in, clad for the +most part in the national blue blouse, but still bearing about their +persons those unmistakable though quite indescribable marks by which the +turfman can recognize at a glance and under any costume the man whose +business is with horses. Every trade and calling in life perhaps may be +said to impart to its followers some distinguishing peculiarity by which +the brethren of the craft at least will instinctively know each other; +and amongst horse-fanciers these mysterious signs of recognition are as +infallible as the signals of Freemasonry. As one penetrates still +farther into Normandy on his way to the Caen races—which come off a few +days after those at Rouen—one becomes still more alive to the fact that +he is in a great horse-raising country. It is indeed to the departments +of Calvados and the Orne beyond all other places that we owe those fine +Norman stallions of which so many have been imported into America. In +the Pin stud, at the fairs of Guibray and of Montagne, one may see the +descendants of the colossal Roman-nosed horses of Merlerault and +Cotentin which used to bear the weight of riders clad in iron, and which +figure at a later day in the pictures of Van der Meulen. The infusion of +English blood within the present century, and particularly during the +Second Empire, has profoundly modified the character of the animal +known to our ancestors: the Norman, with the rest of the various races +once so numerous in France, is rapidly disappearing, and it will not be +very long before two uniform types only will prevail—the draught-horse +and the thoroughbred.</p> + +<p>The race-course at Caen is one of the oldest in France, having been +established as long ago as 1837. The most important events of its +programme are the Prix de la Ville (handicap), with premium and stakes +amounting to twenty or twenty-five thousand francs, on which the +heaviest bets of the intermediate season are made, and the Grand St. +Léger of France, which before the war took place at Moulins, and which +is far from being of equal importance with the celebrated race at +Doncaster whose name it bears. The site of the track at Caen is a +beautiful meadow upon the banks of the Orne, very long and bordered with +fine trees, but unfortunately too narrow, and consequently awkward at +the turns.</p> + +<p>By the rules of the Société colts of two years are not allowed to run +before the first of August, and as the Caen races take place during the +first week of this month, they have the first gathering of the season's +crop of two-year-olds—an event which naturally excites the curiosity of +followers of the turf. The wisdom and utility of subjecting animals of +this age to such a strain upon their powers have been much discussed, +and good judges have strongly condemned the precocious training +involved, as tending to check the natural development of the horse, and +sometimes putting a premature end to his career as a racer. In England +these races have been multiplied to abuse. There are signs of a +reaction, however, in France, where several owners of racing-stables, +following the example set by M. Lupin, have found their advantage in +refusing to take part in the pernicious practice. For, after all, these +first trials really prove nothing at all. They are found to furnish no +standard by which any accurate measure can be taken of the future +achievements of the horse. In fact, if one will take the trouble to +examine the lists of winners of these two-year-old criterions, as they +are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[Pg 455]</a></span> called, he will find but very few names that have afterward become +illustrious in the annals of the turf.</p> + +<p>The races of Caen over, their followers take themselves some few leagues +farther upon their circuit, to attend the meeting at Cabourg, one of +those pretty little towns, made up of about a hundred villas, four +hotels, a church and a casino, that lie scattered along the Norman coast +like beads of a broken necklace. Living is dear in these stylish little +out-of-the-way places, and this naturally keeps away the more plebeian +element that frequents the great centres. About the fifteenth of August +begins the week of races at Déauville, the principal event of the Norman +circuit, bringing together not unfrequently as many as a hundred and +sixty horses, and ranking, in fact, as third in importance in all +France, the meetings at Longchamps and Chantilly alone taking precedence +of it. It is to the duc de Morny that Déauville owes the existence of +its "hippodrome," but the choice of this bit of sandy beach, that seemed +to have been thrown up and abandoned by the sea like a waif, cannot be +called a happy one. It may be, however, that the duke's selection of the +site was determined by its proximity to the luxuriant valley of the +Auge, so famous for its excellent pasturage and for the number of its +stables. The Victor stud belonging to M. Aumont, that of Fervacques, the +property of M. de Montgomery, and the baron de Rothschild's +establishment at Meautry, are all in the immediate neighborhood of +Déauville; but even these advantages do not compensate for the +unfavorable character of the track, laid out, as we have said, upon land +from which the sea had receded, and which, as might have been expected, +was sure to be hard and cracked in a dry season. To remedy this most +serious defect, and to bring the ground to its present degree of +excellence, large sums had to be expended. The aspect of the race-course +to-day, however, is really charming. A rustic air has been given to the +stands, the ring, even to the stables that enclose the paddock, but it +is a rusticity quite compatible with elegance, like that of the pretty +Norman farm in the garden of Trianon. The purse for two-year-olds used +to be called, under the Empire, the Prix Morny, but this name was +withdrawn at the same time that the statue of the duke, which once stood +in Déauville, was pulled down.</p> + +<p>Our Norman circuit comes to a close with the races at Dieppe, which +finished last year on the 26th of August. Dieppe was celebrated during +the Empire for its steeple-chases, which were run upon a somewhat hilly +ground left almost in its natural state—a very unusual thing in France. +The flat- and hurdle-races which have succeeded to these since the war +are not of sufficient importance to detain us.</p> + +<p>Returning from this agreeable summer jaunt, in which the pleasures of +sea-bathing have added a zest to the enjoyment of the race-course, the +followers of the turf will seek, on coming back to Paris in the early +days of September, the autumn meetings at Fontainebleau and at +Longchamps. But they will not find the paddock of the latter at this +season of the year bustling with the life and fashion that gave it such +brilliancy in the spring, and the "return from the races" is made up of +little else than hired cabs drawn by broken-down steeds. It is just the +period when Paris, crowded with economical strangers, English or +German—the former on their return, perhaps, from Switzerland, the +latter enjoying their vacation after their manner—mourns the absence of +her own gay world. The <i>haute gomme</i>—the swells, the upper ten—are +still in the provinces. They have left the sea-side, it is true—it was +time for that—but the season in the Pyrenees is not over yet, and +Luchon and Bigone will be full until the middle of September, and not +before the month is ended will Biarritz give up her pleasure-seekers. +The opening of the shooting season on the first Sunday of September has +scattered the sportsmen throughout the twenty-five or thirty departments +in which there is still left a chance of finding game. But the best +shooting is in the neighborhood of Paris, in the departments of +Seine-et-Marne and Seine-et-Oise—at Grosbois<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[Pg 456]</a></span> with the prince de +Wagram; at St. Germain-les-Corbeil on the estate of M. Darblay; at +Bois-Boudran with the comte de Greffuhle; or at the château of the baron +de Rothschild at Ferrières; and the numerous guests of these gentlemen +may, if they are inclined, take a day to see the Omnium or the Prix +Royal Oak run between two <i>battues aux faisans</i>. The Omnium is the most +important of the handicaps: it is the French Cæsarewitch, though with a +difference. The distance of the latter is two miles and two furlongs, +that of the Omnium but a mile and a half. The value of the stakes is +generally from twenty-five to thirty thousand francs. As its name would +indicate, this race, by exception to the fundamental principle of the +Jockey Club, is open to horses of every kind, without regard to +pedigree, above the age of three years. A horse that has gained a prize +of two thousand francs after the publication of the weights is +handicapped with an overweight of two kilogrammes and a half (a trifle +over five pounds); if he has gained several such, with three kilos; if +he is the winner of an eight-thousand-franc purse, he has to carry an +overweight of four kilos, or one of five kilos if he has won more than +one race of the value last mentioned. The publication of the weights +takes place at the end of June, when the betting begins. Heavy and +numerous are the wagers on this important race, and as the prospects of +the various horses entered change from time to time according to the +prizes gained and the overweights incurred, the quotation naturally +undergoes the most unlooked-for variations. A lot of money is won and +lost before the real favorites have revealed themselves; that is to say, +before the last week preceding the race. The winner of the Omnium is +hardly ever a horse of the first rank, and the baron d'Étreilles +undertakes to tell us why. The object of the handicap, he says, being to +equalize the chances of several horses of different degrees of merit, +the handicapper is in a manner obliged to make it next to impossible for +the first-rate horses to win; otherwise, the owners of the inferior +animals, seeing that they had no chance, would prefer to pay forfeit, +and the harmony, as it were, of the contest—the even balancing of +chances, which is of the very essence of the handicap—would be lacking. +On the other hand, the handicapper cannot bring the chances of the +really bad horses up to the mean average, no matter how much he may +favor them in the weights, and thus it nearly always turns out that the +Omnium, like every other important handicap, is won by a horse of the +second class, generally a three-year-old, whose real merits have been +hidden from the handicapper. This concealment is not so difficult as it +might seem. There are certain owners who, when they have satisfied +themselves by trials made before the spring races that they have in +their stables a few horses not quite good enough to stand a chance in +the great contests, but still by no means without valuable qualities, +prefer to reserve them for an important affair like the Omnium, on which +they can bet heavily and to advantage, especially if they have a "dark +horse," or one that is as yet unknown. Otherwise, to what use could +these second-rate horses be put? If one should run them in the spring +they might get one or two of the smaller stakes, after which everybody +would have their measure. Their owners, therefore, show wisdom in +keeping them out of sight, or perhaps, as some of the shrewder ones do, +by running them when rather out of condition, and thus ensuring their +defeat by adversaries really inferior to themselves. In this way the +handicapper is deceived as to their true qualities, and is induced to +weight them advantageously for the Omnium.</p> + +<p>Many readers but little conversant with turf matters will no doubt be +scandalized to hear of these tricks of the trade, and will be apt to +conclude that good faith is no more the fashion at Longchamps than at +the Bourse, and that cleverness in betting, as in stockjobbing, consists +in knowing when to depreciate values and when to inflate them, as one +happens to be a bull or a bear in the market. The truth is, that no +rules can be devised, either by Jockey Clubs or by imperial parliaments, +that can put a stop to these abuses: they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[Pg 457]</a></span> will exist, in spite of +legislation, as long as the double character of owner and better can be +united in the same person. If this person should not act in perfect good +faith, all restraining laws will be illusory, because the betting owner +has the cards in his own hands, and can withdraw a horse or make him run +at his pleasure, or even make him lose a race in case of need. If the +thing is managed with skill, it is almost impossible to discover the +deception. In 1877, at Déauville, the comte de Clermont-Tonnere and his +jockey, Goddart, were expelled from the turf because the latter had +"pulled" his horse in such a clumsy and unmistakable way that the +spectators could not fail to see it. This circumstance was without +precedent in France, and yet how often has the trick, which in this case +was exposed, been practised without any one being the wiser for it! It +ought to be added that the betters make one claim that is altogether +unreasonable, and that is—at least this is the only inference from +their talk—that when they have once "taken" a horse, as they call it, +in a race, the owner thereby loses a part of his proprietorship in the +animal, and is bound to share his rights of ownership with them. But one +cannot thus limit the rights of property, and as long as the owner does +not purposely lose a race, and does not deceive the handicapper as to +the real value of his horse for the purpose of getting a reduction of +weights, he can surely do as he pleases with his own. There will remain, +of course, the question of morality and of delicacy, of which each one +must be the judge for himself. M. Lupin, for example, and Lord Falmouth, +when they have two horses engaged for the same purse, always let these +take their chances, and do nothing to prevent the better horse from +being the winner, while the comte de Lagrange, as we have had occasion +to observe before, has acquired the reputation of winning, if he can, +with his worst animal, or at least with the one upon whose success the +public has least counted. This is what took place when he gained the +Grand Prix de Paris in 1877 with an outsider, St. Christophe, whilst +all the betters had calculated upon the victory of his other horse, +Verneuil. So the duke of Hamilton in 1878 at Goodwood, where one of his +horses was the favorite, declared just at the start that he meant to win +with another, and by his orders the favorite was pulled double at the +finish. The same year, in America, Mr. Lorillard caused Parole, then a +two-year-old, to be beaten by one of his stable-companions and one +decidedly his inferior. When this sort of thing is done the ring makes a +great uproar about it, but without reason, for there can be no question +of an owner's right to save his best horse, if he can, from a future +overweight by winning with another not so good. Only he ought frankly to +declare his intention to do so before the race.</p> + +<p>The autumn stakes that rank next in importance to the Omnium are known +as the Prix Royal Oak, open, like its counterpart, the St. Leger of +Doncaster, to colts and fillies of three years only, with an unloading +of three pounds for the latter. On this occasion one will have an +opportunity of seeing again in the Bois de Boulogne the contestants of +the great prizes of the spring. The Royal Oak is nearly always won by a +horse of the first class, and in the illustrious list may be found the +names of Gladiateur and of four winners of the French Derby—Patricien, +Boïard, Kilt and Jongleur.</p> + +<p>In October, Longchamps is deserted for Chantilly, where the trials of +two-year-olds take place—the first criterion for horses, the second +criterion for fillies—the distance in these two races being eight +hundred mètres, or half a mile. The Grand Criterion, for colts and +fillies, has a distance of double this, or one mile (sixteen hundred +mètres). Since their débuts in August at Caen and Déauville the young +horses have had time to harden and to show better what they are made of; +and it is in the Grand Criterion that one looks for the most certain +indications of their future career. The names of the winners will be +found to include many that have afterward become celebrated, such as Mon +Étoile, Stradella, Le Béarnais, Mongoubert, Sornette, Révigny and +others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[Pg 458]</a></span></p> + +<p>Chantilly is the birthplace of racing in France. In the winter of +1833—the same year which also witnessed the foundation of the Jockey +Club—Prince Labanoff, who was then living at Chantilly, and who had +secured the privilege of hunting in the forest, invited several +well-known lovers of the chase to join him in the sport. Tempted by the +elasticity of the turf, it occurred to the hunters to get up a race, and +meeting at the Constable's Table—a spot where once stood the stump of a +large tree on which, as the story goes, the constable of France used to +dine—they improvised a race-course which has proved the prolific mother +of the tracks to be found to-day all over the country. In this first +trial M. de Normandie was the winner. The fate of Chantilly was decided. +Since the suicide—or the assassination—of the last of the Condés the +castle had been abandoned, the duc d'Aumale, its inheritor, being then a +minor. The little town itself seemed dying of exhaustion. It was +resolved to infuse into it a new life by taking advantage of the +exceptional quality of its turf. The soil is a rather hard sand, +resisting pressure, elastic, and covered with a fine thick sward, and of +a natural drainage so excellent that even the longest rains have no +visible effect upon it. On this ground—as good as, if not better than, +that at Newmarket—there is to-day a track of two thousand mètres, or a +mile and a quarter—the distance generally adopted in France—with good +turns, excepting the one known as the "Réservoirs," which is rather +awkward, and which has the additional disadvantage of skirting the road +to the training-stables—a temptation to bolt that is sometimes too +strong for horses of a doubtful character. For this reason there is +sometimes a little confusion in the field at this point. Before coming +to the last turn there is a descent, followed by a rise—both of them +pretty stiff—and this undoubtedly has its effect on the result, for the +lazier horses fall away a little on the ascent. Just at this point too a +clump of trees happens to hide the track from the spectators on the +stands, and all the lorgnettes are turned on the summit of the rise to +watch for the reappearance of the horses, who are pretty sure to turn up +in a different order from that in which they were last seen. This crisis +of the race is sometimes very exciting. A magnificent forest of beech +borders and forms a background to the race-course in the rear of the +stands; in front rise the splendid and imposing stables of the duc +d'Aumale, built by Mansard for the Great Condé; on the right is the +pretty Renaissance château of His Royal Highness; while the view loses +itself in a vast horizon of distant forest and hills of misty blue. The +stands are the first that were erected in France, and in 1833 they +seemed no doubt the height of comfort and elegance, but to-day they are +quite too small to accommodate the ever-increasing crowd. The stands as +well as the stables, and the race-course itself, all belong to the duc +d'Aumale, who gave a splendid house-warming and brilliant fête last +October to celebrate the completion of the restorations of his ancestral +château. Under the Empire, the property of the Orleans princes having +been confiscated, a nominal transfer of Chantilly was made to a friend +of the family. The emperor, having one day signified his wish to witness +the Derby, had the mortification on his arrival to find the reserved +stand closed against him by the prince's orders. It was necessary to +force the gate. The emperor took the hint, however, and never went to +Chantilly again.</p> + +<p>The soil of the Forest of Fontainebleau being of the same nature as that +of the turf in the open, the alleys of the park furnish an invaluable +resource to the trainer. For this reason, since racing has come in +vogue, most of the stables have found their way to Chantilly or to its +immediate neighborhood, where one of the largest and finest alleys of +the forest, running parallel to the railway and known as the Alley of +the Lions, has been given up to their use. Thus, Chantilly, with its +Derby Day and its training-grounds, may be called at once the Epsom and +the Newmarket of France. There is hardly a horse, with the exception of +those of the comte de Lagrange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[Pg 459]</a></span> and of M. Lupin, and those of Henry +Jennings, the public trainer, that is not "worked" in the Alley of the +Lions. The Société d'Encouragement has control of the training-ground as +well as of the track, and also claims the right to keep spectators away +from the trial-gallops, so that the duc d'Aumale, whose proprietary +privileges are thus usurped, is often at war with the society. He has +stag-hunts twice a week during the winter, on Mondays and Thursdays, and +now and then on Sundays too—as he did with the grand duke of Austria on +his late visit to Chantilly—and he naturally objects to having the hunt +cut in two by the gallops over his principal avenue. He worries the +trainers to such a degree that they begin to talk of quitting Chantilly +for some more hospitable quarters. When things get to this pass the +duke, who, in his character of councillor-general, is bound to look +after the interests of his constituents, relents, and putting aside his +personal wrongs calls a parley with the stewards of the races, offers a +new prize—an object of art perhaps—or talks of enlarging the stands, +and the gage of reconciliation being accepted, peace is made to last +until some new <i>casus belli</i> shall occur. His Royal Highness is not +forgetful of the duties of his position. When he is at Chantilly on a +race-day he gracefully does the honors of his reserved stand to all the +little Orleanist court. Since the reconciliation that took place between +the comte de Paris and the comte de Chambord in 1873 this miniature +court has been enlarged by the addition of several personages of the +Legitimist circle, and the "ring" at Chantilly is often graced with a +most distinguished and aristocratic assemblage. Amongst the beauties of +this brilliant company may be especially noticed Madame de Viel-Castel, +the young princesse Amédé de Broglie, the duchesse de Chaulnes with her +strange, unconventional type of beauty, Madame Ferdinand Bischoffsheim, +the comtesse Beugnot, the comtesse Tanneguy-Duchâtel and the princesse +de Sagan. And when all this gay party has dispersed, and the duke is +left to his cigar—as constant a companion as the historical weed in +the mouth of General Grant—he might almost fancy, as he walks the great +street of his good town, that he is back again at Twickenham in the days +of his exile. There is something to remind him on every side of the +country that once sheltered him. To right and left are English +farrieries, English saddleries, and English bars and taverns too. +English is the language that reaches his ears, and English of the most +"horsey" sort that one can hear this side of Newmarket. Everybody has +the peculiar gait and costume that belong to the English horseman: the +low-crowned hat, the short jacket, those tight trousers and big, strong +boots, are not to be mistaken. It is a little world in itself, in which +no Frenchman could long exist, but its peculiar inhabitants have not, +for all that, neglected anything that may attract the young folk of the +country. They have even offered the bribe of a race in which only French +jockeys are permitted to ride, but these, with only an exception here +and there, have very promptly given up the business, disgusted either by +the severe regimen required in the matter of diet or by the rigorous +discipline indispensable in a training-stable. The few exceptions to +which I have referred have not sufficed to prevent this race from +falling into disrepute; but it may be worth mentioning that on the last +occasion on which it was run, the 19th October last, when but three or +four horses were engaged, the baron de Bizé, with what has been called a +veritable inspiration of genius, threw an unlooked-for interest into the +event by mounting in person M. Camille Blanc's horse Nonancourt, and +winning the race with him. It is to be borne in mind that the riders +must not only have been born in France, but must be of French parentage +on the side of both father and mother.</p> + +<p>The best-known jockeys are nearly all the children of English parents, +and have first seen the light in the little colony at Chantilly or else +have been brought very young into France. I give some of their names, +classed according to the number of victories gained by them respectively +in 1878: Hunter, who generally rides for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[Pg 460]</a></span> M. Fould, 47 victories; +Wheeler, head-jockey and trainer for M. Ed. Blanc, 45 victories; Hislop, +39; Hudson, ex-jockey to M. Lupin, who gained last year the Grand Prix +de Paris, 36 victories; Rolf, 35; Carratt, 32; Goater, who rides for the +comte de Lagrange, and who is well known in England; and Edwards, whose +"mount" was at one time quite the mode, and whose tragical death on the +3d of October last created a painful sensation. When Lamplugh was +training for the duke of Hamilton he made Edwards "first stable-boy," +and this and his subsequent successes excited a violent jealousy in one +of his stable-companions named Page. The two jockeys separated, but +instead of fighting a duel, as Frenchmen might have done, they simply +rode against each other one day at Auteuil—Page on Leona, and Edwards +on Peau-d'Âne. The struggle was a desperate one: both riders got bad +falls from their exhausted mares, and from that time poor Edwards never +regained his <i>aplomb</i>. He frequently came to grief afterward, and met +his death in consequence of a fall from Slowmatch at Maison Lafitte.</p> + +<p>One of the oldest celebrities of Chantilly is Charles Pratt, formerly +trainer and jockey for the baron Nivière and for the late Charles +Lafitte, and at present in the service of the prince d'Aremberg. His +system of training approached very nearly that of Henry Jennings, under +whose orders and instructions he had worked for a long time. His horses +were always just in the right condition on the day they were wanted, and +as he never allowed them to be overridden, their legs remained uninjured +for many years—a thing that has become too rare in France as well as in +England. As a jockey Pratt possessed, better than any other, that +knowledge of pace without which a rider is sure to commit irreparable +mistakes. At the Grand Prix de Paris of 1870, when he rode Sornette, he +undertook the daring feat of keeping the head of the field from the +start to the finish. Such an enterprise in a race so important and so +trying as this demanded the nicest instinct for pace and the most +thorough knowledge, which as trainer he already possessed, of the +impressionable nature and high qualities of his mare.</p> + +<p>The autumn meetings at Chantilly close the legitimate season in France. +The affairs at Tours are of little interest except to the foreign +colony—which at this season of the year is pretty numerous in +Touraine—and to the people of the surrounding country. On these +occasions the cavalry officers in garrison at Tours get up paper hunts, +a species of sport which is rapidly growing in favor and promises to +become a national pastime. Whatever interest attaches to the November +races at Bordeaux is purely local. Turfmen who cannot get through the +winter without the sight of the jockeys' silk jackets and the +bookmakers' mackintoshes must betake themselves to Pau in December. The +first of the four winter meetings takes place during this month upon a +heath at a distance of four kilomètres—say about two miles and a +half—from the town. The exceptional climate and situation of Pau, where +the frozen-out fox-hunters of England come to hunt, and where there is a +populous American colony, will no doubt before long give a certain +importance to these races, but just now the local committee is short of +funds and the stakes have been insufficient to offer an attraction to +good horses. Last winter in one of the steeple-chases <i>all</i> the horses +tumbled pell-mell into the river, which was the very first obstacle they +encountered, and although the public was quite used to seeing riders +come to grief, it found the incident somewhat extraordinary.</p> + +<p>The meetings at Nice, the queen of all winter residences in Europe, are +much finer and more worthy of attention. They begin in January, and the +programme has to be arranged almost exclusively for steeple-chases and +hurdle-races, as flat-racers are not in condition for running at the +time when the season at Nice is at its height. The greater number, and +particularly the best, of the racers have important engagements for the +spring meetings at Paris and at Chantilly, and even in view of really +valuable prizes they could not afford at this time of year to undergo a +complete preparation, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[Pg 461]</a></span> would advance them too rapidly in their +training and would make it impossible to have them in prime condition in +the spring. The race-course at Nice is charmingly situated in the valley +of the Var. The perfume of flowers from numerous beds reaches the +stands, where one may enjoy a magnificent view of mountain and sea, +whilst a good band discourses music in the intervals of the races. Some +of the prizes are important. The Grand Prix de Monaco, for instance, +popularly known as "The Cup", consists of an object of art given by the +prince of Monaco and a purse of twenty thousand francs, without counting +the entrance-stakes. On the second day is run the great hurdle handicap +for seventy-five hundred francs called the Prix de Monte Carlo, and on +the third and last day of the meeting the Grand Prix de Nice, a free +handicap steeple-chase for a purse of ten thousand francs.</p> + +<p>The international pigeon-shooting matches at Monaco, which occur at the +same time, contribute, with the races, to give an extraordinary +animation to this period of the season at Nice. The betting-ring feels +the influence of the proximity of the gaming-tables, where everybody +goes; and yet one could so easily exchange this feverish life of play +for the calmer enjoyments of the capital <i>cuisine</i> of London House and +an after-dinner stroll on the English Promenade or the terraces of Monte +Carlo, in dreamy contemplation of the mountains with their misty grays +and a sea and sky of such heavenly blue. But no: this charming programme +is wantonly rejected: not the finest orchestras, not the prettiest +fêtes, not the newest chansonettes sung by Judie and Jeanne Granier +themselves, can turn the players for a moment from the pursuit of their +one absorbing passion. Play goes on at the Casino of Monte Carlo the +livelong day, the only relaxation from the <i>couleur gagnante</i> or <i>tiers +et tout</i> being when the gamblers step across the way to take a shot at +the pigeons or a bet on the birds; for they must bet on something, if it +is but on the number of the box from which the next victim will fly. And +when in the evening the players have returned to Nice it is only to +indulge the fierce passion again in playing baccarat—the terrible +Parisian baccarat—at the Massena Club or at the Mediterranean, where +the betting is even higher than at Monaco. Hundreds of thousands of +francs change hands every hour from noon to six o'clock in the morning +in this gambling-hell—a hell disguised in the colors of Paradise.</p> + +<p>But let us fly from the perilous neighborhood and reach the nearest +race-course by the fastest train we can find. The passion for the turf +is healthier than the other, and its ends not so much in need of +concealment. Unluckily, we shall not find just at this season—that +is to say, in February—anything going on excepting a few +steeple-chases—some "jumping business," as the English say rather +contemptuously. In England there are certain owners, such as Lord +Lonsdale, Captain Machell, Mr. Brayley and others, who, though well +known in flat-races, have also good hunters in their stables, while the +proprietors of the latter in France confine themselves exclusively to +this specialty. Perhaps the best known amongst them are the baron Jules +Finot and the marquis de St. Sauveur. Most of the members of the Jockey +Club affect to look down upon the "illegitimate" sport, as they call it. +It would seem, however, that this disdain is hardly justifiable, for as +a spectacle at least a steeple-chase is certainly more dramatic and more +interesting than a flat-race. What can be finer than the sight of a +dozen gentlemen or jockeys, as the case may be, charging a brook and +taking it clear in one unbroken line? And yet, despite the attractions +and excitement of the sport, and all the efforts made from time to time +by the Society of Steeple-chases to popularize it in France, it cannot +as yet be called a success. Complaint is made, as in England, of too +short distances, of the insufficiency of the obstacles, of an +overstraining of the pace. The whole thing is coming to partake more and +more of the nature of a race, an essentially different thing. Field +sports are not races—at least they never ought to be. A steeple-chase +can never answer the true purpose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[Pg 462]</a></span> of the flat-race, which is to prove +which is the best horse, to the end that he may ultimately reproduce his +like. But nobody ever heard of "a sire calculated to get +steeple-chasers". The cleverness and the special qualities that make a +good steeple-chaser are not transmitted. The best have been horses of +poor appearance, often small and unsightly, that have been given up by +the trainer as incapable of winning in flat-races. In England the +winners of the "Grand National" have had no pedigree to speak of, and +have failed upon the track. Cassetête had run in nineteen races without +gaining a single one before he began his remarkable career as a hunter; +Alcibiade had been employed at Newmarket as a lad's horse; Salamander +was taken out of a cart to win the great steeple-chases at Liverpool and +Warwick.</p> + +<p>In France there is no Liverpool or Croydon or Sandown for +steeple-chases: there is only an Auteuil. The other meetings in the +neighborhood of Paris—Maisons, Le Vésinet, La Marche—are in the hands +of shameless speculators like Dennetier, Oller and the rest. Poor +horses, bought in the selling races and hardly trained at all to their +new business, compete at these places for slender purses, and often with +the help of dishonest tricks. Accidents, as might be expected, are +frequent, although the obstacles, with the exception of the river at La +Marche, are insignificant. But the pace is pushed to such excess that +the smallest fence becomes dangerous. This last objection, however, may +be made even to the running at Auteuil, where the course is under the +judicious and honorable direction of the Society of Steeple-chases. The +pace is quite too severe for such a long stretch, strewn as it is with +no less than twenty-four obstacles, and some of them pretty serious. The +weather, too, is nearly always bad at Auteuil, even at the summer +meetings, and the ill-luck of the Steeple-chase Society in this respect +has become as proverbial as the good-fortune and favoring skies that +smile upon the Société d'Encouragement, its neighbor at Longchamps. It +is not to be wondered at, then, that the English do not feel at home +upon this dangerous track. They have gained but twice the great +international steeple-chase founded in 1874—the first time with Miss +Hungerford in the year just mentioned, and again with Congress in 1877. +This prize, the most important of the steeple-chase purses in France, +amounts to twelve hundred sovereigns, added to a sweepstakes of twenty +sovereigns each, with twelve sovereigns forfeit—or only two sovereigns +if declared by the published time—and is open to horses of four years +old and upward. It is run in the early part of June. Last year, whilst +Wild Monarch, belonging to the marquis de St. Sauveur and ridden by +D'Anson, was winning the race, the splendid stands took fire and were +burned, without the loss of a single life, and even without a serious +accident, thanks to the ample width of the staircases and of the exits. +These stands were the newest and the most comfortable in the country. It +is to be hoped that the society will not allow itself to be discouraged +by such a persistent run of ill-luck, but that it will continue to +pursue its work, the object of which it has declared to be "to +encourage, as far as its resources will permit, the breeding and raising +of horses for service and for the army." As the Encouragement Society +rests upon the Jockey Club, so the Society of Steeple-chases finds its +support in the Cercle of the Rue Royale, commonly called the Little Club +or the Moutard. This club was reorganized after the war under the +direction of the prince de Sagan, and has made great sacrifices to bring +Auteuil into fashion.</p> + +<p>The regular racing-season in France begins on the 15th of March, and no +horse that has appeared upon any public track before this date is +permitted to enter. The first event of the series is the spring meeting +at Rheims—the French Lincoln. Of the six flat-races run here, one, +known as the Derby of the East, is for two-year-olds of the previous +year, with a purse of five thousand francs. In the "Champagne" races the +winner gets, besides his prize, a basket of a hundred bottles of the +sparkling wine instead of the empty "cup" that gives its name to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[Pg 463]</a></span> other +famous contests. After Rheims the next meeting in course is at +Longchamps, in the beginning of April, opening with the Prix du Cadran, +twenty-five thousand francs, distance forty-two hundred mètres, for +four-year-olds. Then comes the essay of horses of the year in the Trial +Sweepstakes and the Prix Daru, corresponding with the Two Thousand +Guineas and the Thousand Guineas at Newmarket. The quotation begins to +take shape as the favorites for the great events of May and June stand +out more clearly. Of all the prizes—not excepting even the Grand Prix +de Paris—the one most desired by French turfmen is the French Derby, +or, to call it by its official name, the Prix du Jockey Club, the +crowning event of the May meeting at Chantilly. The conditions of the +Derby are as follows: For colts and fillies of three years, distance +twenty-four hundred mètres, or a mile and a half, fifty thousand francs, +or two thousand pounds sterling, with stakes added of forty pounds for +each horse—twenty-four pounds forfeit, or twenty pounds if declared out +at a fixed date; colts to carry one hundred and twenty-three pounds, and +fillies one hundred and twenty pounds. The purse last year amounted to +£3863 (96,575 francs). Like the English Derby, its French namesake is +regarded as the test and gauge of the quality of the year's production. +In the year of the foundation of this important race (1836), and for the +two succeeding years, it was gained by Lord Henry Seymour's stable, +whose trainer, Th. Carter, and whose stallion, Royal Oak, both brought +from England, were respectively the best trainer and the best stallion +of that time. In 1839, however, the duc d'Orléans's Romulus, foaled at +the Meudon stud, put an end to these victories of the foreigner. In 1840 +the winner was Tontine, belonging to M. Eugène Aumont, but Lord Seymour, +whose horse had come in second, asserted that another horse had been +substituted for Tontine, and that under this name M. Aumont had really +entered the English filly Hérodiade, while the race was open only to +colts foaled and raised in France. A lawsuit was the result, and while +the courts refused to admit Lord Seymour's claim, the racing committee +declared the mare disqualified, and M. Aumont sold his stable. In 1841, +Lord Seymour again gained the Derby with Poetess (by Royal Oak), who +afterward became mother of Heroine and of Monarque and grandmother of +Gladiateur. In 1843 there was a dead heat between M. de Pontalbra's +Renonce and Prospero, belonging to the trainer Th. Carter, and, as often +happens, the worse horse—in this case it was Renonce—won the second +heat. In 1848, the name of "Chantilly" being just then too odious, the +Derby was run at Versailles, and was gained by M. Lupin's Gambetti. This +same year is remarkable in the annals of the French turf for the +excellence of its production. From this period until 1853—the year of +Jouvence—M. Lupin enjoyed a series of almost uninterrupted successes. +In 1855 the Derby was won by the illustrious Monarque, and the following +year witnessed the first appearance upon the turf of the now famous red +and blue of Lagrange. It was Beauvais, belonging to Madame Latache de +Fay, who in 1860 carried off the coveted prize, which was won the next +year by Gabrielle d'Estrées, from the stable of the comte de Lagrange. +Then for a period of nine years the count's stable had a run of +ill-luck, its horses always starting as prime favorites and being as +invariably beaten. This was Trocadéro's fate in 1867. He was a great +favorite, and had, moreover, on this occasion the assistance of his +stable-companion Mongoubert, a horse of first-rate qualities. This time, +at least, the count's backers were sure of success, but the victory that +seemed within their grasp was wrested from their hands by the unexpected +prowess developed upon the field of battle by a newcomer, M. Delamarre's +Patricien. At a distance of two hundred mètres from the goal the three +horses named were alone in the race, and the struggle between them was a +desperate one. It looked almost as if it might turn out a dead heat, +when Patricien, with a tremendous effort, reached the winning-post a +head in advance, after one of the finest and best-contested races ever +seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[Pg 464]</a></span> at Chantilly. In 1869, however, Consul succeeded in turning the +tide of adverse fortune that had set in against the comte de Lagrange, +but it was only for the moment, and it was not until 1878 that he was +again the victor, when he won with Insulaire. He repeated the success +last year with Zut, whom Goater brought in to the winning-post a length +and a half ahead of the field.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, the winner of the French Derby can hardly ever be in good +condition to contest the great race at Epsom. These two important events +are too near in point of time, and the fatigue of the journey, moreover, +puts the horse that has to make it at a disadvantage. Were it not for +this drawback it is probable that the comte de Lagrange would beat the +English oftener than he does. In May, 1878, his horse Insulaire, having +just come in second in the Two Thousand Guineas at Newmarket, left that +place for home, won the French Derby on Sunday, and returned to England +in time for the Epsom Derby on Wednesday, where he came in second. He +recrossed the Channel, and the following Sunday was second again in the +Grand Prix de Paris, Thurio passing him only by a head. Making the +passage again—and this was his fourth voyage within fifteen days—he +gained the Ascot Derby. It is not unlikely that if this remarkable horse +had remained permanently in the one country or the other he would have +carried off the principal prizes of the turf.</p> + +<p>For the last three or four years the racing men have been in the habit +of meeting, after the Grand Prix de Paris, in the pretty park of La +Marche, between St. Cloud and St. Germain. It is quite a private +gathering, and as elegant as a dashing turnout of some fifteen or twenty +four-in-hands and a pretty luncheon and charming flirtation can make it, +and if dancing has not yet been introduced it soon will be. Prizes in +the shape of groups in bronze and paintings and valuable weapons are +awarded to the gentlemen present who may take part in the hunting +steeple-chase or the race with polo ponies or with hacks.</p> + +<p>In 1878 a new race-course was started at Enghien, to the north of +Paris. The prizes are sufficiently large, the stands comfortable and the +track is good; and these attractions, with the advantage of the +neighborhood of the Chantilly and Morlaye stables, will no doubt make +Enghien a success. Steeple-chases and hurdle-races predominate.</p> + +<p>We can hardly close this review of turf matters in France without at +least a reference to the so-called sporting journals, but what we have +to say of them can be told in two words. They exist only in name. Any +one who buys <i>Le Sport</i>, <i>Le Turf</i>, <i>Le Jockey</i>, <i>Le Derby</i>, the <i>Revue +des Sports,</i> etc., on the faith of their titles—nearly all English, be +it observed—will be greatly disappointed if he expects to find in them +anything beyond the mere programmes of the races: they contain no +criticism worthy of the name, no accurate appreciation of the subject +they profess to treat of, and are even devoid of all interesting details +relating to it. Far from following the example of their fellows of +London and New York, these sheets concern themselves neither with +hunting, shooting or fishing, nor with horse-breeding or cattle-raising, +but give us instead the valuable results of their lucubrations upon the +names of the winning horses of the future, and with such sagacity that a +subscriber to one of them has made the calculation that if he had bet +but one louis upon each of the favorites recommended by his paper he +would have lost five hundred louis in the one year of his subscription.</p> + +<p>Let us add, however, that, the press excepted, the English have nothing +more to teach their neighbors in turf matters. The <i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> +has well said that the organization of racing in France has taken a +great deal of what is good from the English turf, and has excluded most +of what is bad. The liberality of the French Jockey Club is declared by +<i>Vanity Fair</i> to be in striking contrast with the starveling policy of +its English namesake. The <i>Daily Telegraph</i> has recently eulogized the +French club for having found out how to rid the turf of the pest of +publicans and speculators and clerks of courses, and of all the riffraff +that encumber and disgrace<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[Pg 465]</a></span> it in England, and that make parliamentary +intervention necessary. The French turf, in fine, may be said to be +inferior to the English in the number of horses, but its equal in +respect of their quality, while it must be admitted to be superior to it +in the average morality of their owners.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">L. Lejeune</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FROM_FAR" id="FROM_FAR"></a>FROM FAR.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Love, come back, across the weary way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou didst go yesterday—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Dear Love, come back!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I am too far upon my way to turn:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be silent, hearts that yearn<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Upon my track."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Love! Love! Love! sweet Love! we are undone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou indeed be gone<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Where lost things are.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Beyond the extremest sea's waste light and noise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from Ghostland, thy voice<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Is borne afar."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Love, what was our sin that we should be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forsaken thus by thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">So hard a lot!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Upon your hearts my hands and lips were set—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lips of fire—and yet<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Ye knew me not."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, surely, Love! We knew thee well, sweet Love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did we not breathe and move<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Within thy light?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye did reject my thorns who wore my roses:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now darkness closes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Upon your sight."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Love! stern Love! be not implacable:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We loved thee, Love, so well!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Come back to us!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To whom, and where, and by what weary way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I went yesterday,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Shall I come thus?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh weep, weep, weep! for Love, who tarried long<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With many a kiss and song,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Has taken wing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more he lightens in our eyes like fire:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He heeds not our desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or songs we sing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"><span class="smcap">Philip Bourke Marston</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[Pg 466]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AMERICANS_ABROAD" id="AMERICANS_ABROAD"></a>AMERICANS ABROAD.</h2> + + +<p>Five-and-twenty years ago Americans had no cause to be particularly +proud of the manner in which, from a social point of view, their +travelling compatriots were looked upon in Europe. At that epoch we were +still the object of what Mr. Lowell calls a "certain condescension in +foreigners." We were still the recipients at their hands of that certain +half-curious, half-amused and wholly patronizing inspection which, from +the height of their civilization, they might be expected to bestow upon +a novel species of humanity, with manners different from their own, but +recently sprung into existence and notice and disporting itself in their +midst.</p> + +<p>But this sort of thing has had its day. By dint of having been able to +produce, here and there, for the edification of foreigners, a few types +of American manhood and womanhood which came up to the standard of +high-breeding entertained in the Old World, and of having occasionally +dispensed hospitality, both at home and abroad, in a manner which was +unexceptionable, besides having shown other evidences in social +life—not to speak of political life—of being able to hold our own +quite creditably, the "condescension" has gradually diminished in a very +satisfactory manner. It is now no longer kept alive by even the typical +American traveller such as he was when five-and-twenty years ago a +familiar sight at every railway-station, in every steamer and in every +picture-gallery, museum and ruin of every town in Europe. Now-a-days +everybody in America who lays any claim to the right of being called +"somebody," however small a "somebody" it may be, has been to Europe at +least once in his or her life—on a three months' Cook-excursion tour, +if in no other way. And those who have not been have had a father, +mother, brother, sister, or in any case a cousin in some degree, who +has; so that there is always a European trip in the family, so to speak. +The result of all this has naturally been a certain amount of experience +concerning Europe which has tended to wellnigh exterminate the race of +the typically-verdant American traveller. Occasional specimens, with all +their characteristics in full and vigorous development, may still be +met, but these are merely isolated survivors of a once widespread +family. The Americans that one meets to-day in Europe, both those who +travel and those who reside there, are of a different conformation and +belong to a different type. The crudeness which so shocked Europeans in +their predecessors they have, with characteristic adaptability, readily +and gracefully outgrown. But whether they have improved in other +respects, and whether, on other grounds, we have cause to be +particularly proud of our countrymen abroad at the present day, is +another question.</p> + +<p>That Americans are constantly apologizing to foreigners for America, for +its institutions, for its social life, and for themselves as belonging +to it, is a fact which no one ever thinks of disputing. In this faculty +for disparaging our own country we may flatter ourselves that we have no +equals. The Chinese may come near us in their obsequious assurances as +to the utter unworthiness of everything pertaining to them, but with the +difference that they, probably, are inwardly profoundly convinced of the +perfection of all that their idea of courtesy obliges them to abuse, and +mean nothing of what they say; whereas we <i>do</i> mean everything we say.</p> + +<p>The prejudice of the English, and their attempts to transport a +miniature England about with them wherever they go, furnish a frequent +subject of jest to Americans on the Continent. If the total immunity +from any such feeling which characterizes the Americans themselves were +the result of breadth of ideas—if they spoke as they do because they +measured the faults and follies, the merits and advantages,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[Pg 467]</a></span> of their +own institutions with as impartial an eye as they would measure those of +other nations, and judged them without either malice or extenuation—we +might then have the privilege of condemning narrow-mindedness +and prejudice. But we have no such breadth of ideas. On the +contrary, we have ourselves—none more so—the strongest sort of +prejudices—prejudices which prevent us as a nation from taking wide, +cosmopolitan views of things. The only difference is that with us the +prejudice, instead of being in favor of everything belonging to our own +country, is, in far too many cases, against it, consequently the most +objectionable, the least excusable, of prejudices.</p> + +<p>It is but rarely that we find a German, a Frenchman, a Spaniard, an +Italian, or a Russian, who even having expatriated himself completely +for one reason or another, and after years of absence, will not have +retained some affection for his native country, some longing for it, +some feeling that it is the best place on earth after all. But among any +number of Americans who have been on European soil for any period of +time, from twenty days to twenty years, those who are burdened with any +such affection, any such longing, any such feeling, might be counted +with ease. Indeed, if through some inconceivable arrangement of human +affairs the Americans abroad were to be prevented from ever returning to +their own country, I imagine the majority would bear the catastrophe +with great equanimity, and, aside from the natural ties of family and +pecuniary interests that might bind them to their home, would think the +permanent life in Europe thus enforced the happiest that Fate could have +bestowed upon them. For my part, I never met but one American who was +anxious to return home—a lady, strange to say—and her chief reason +seemed to be that she missed her pancakes, hot breads, etc. for +breakfast. All the others, men and women, had but one voice to express +how immeasurably more to their taste was everything in Europe—the +climate, the life, the people, the country, the food, the manners, the +institutions, the customs—than anything in America.</p> + +<p>However, all Americans in Europe are not of this class, although it +includes the majority. There is a comparatively small number who are as +much impressed with the perfection of everything American as the most +ardent patriotism could desire. These people go to Europe cased in a +triple armor of self-assertion, prepared to poohpooh everything and +everybody that may come under their notice, and above all to vindicate +under all circumstances their independence as free-born American +citizens by giving the world around them the benefit of their opinions +upon all topics both in and out of season. They stand before a +<i>chef-d'œuvre</i> of some old master and declare in a loud, aggressive +voice that they see nothing whatever to admire in it, that the +bystanders may know that the judgment of centuries will not weigh with +<i>them</i>. They inquire with grim facetiousness, and terrific emphasis on +the pronominal adjectives, "Is <i>this</i> what the people in this part of +the world call a steamboat?" "Do they call that duckpond a lake?" "Is +that stream what they call a river?" And so on, in a perpetual attitude +of protest against everything not so large as their steamboats, their +lakes, their rivers. When this genus of Americans abroad comes together +with the other genus—with the people who think the most wretched daub +that hangs in the most obscure corner of a European gallery, labelled +with prudent indefiniteness "of the school of ——," better far than the +most conscientious work by the most gifted of American artists—and a +discussion arises, as it is sure to do, on the relative merits of Europe +and America, then indeed does Greek meet Greek, and, both starting from +equally false premises and with equally false views, the cross-purposes, +the rabid comparing of things between which no comparison is possible, +the amount of absurd nonsense spoken on either side, and the profound +disdain of one for the other, furnish a great deal of amusement to +Europeans, but make an American who has any self-respect suffer no small +amount of mortification.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[Pg 468]</a></span></p> + +<p>There is but one ground upon which these two classes of Americans meet +in common, and that is in their respect for titles, coronets and +coats-of-arms. It is useless to deny the immense impressiveness which +this sort of thing has for the average American. Of course, if he be of +the aggressive sort he will scout the very idea of any such imputation, +one of the favorite jokes of his tasteful stock in trade being precisely +to express sovereign contempt for anything and everything smacking of +nobility, and to weigh its advantages against the chink of his own +dollars and find it wanting. But this does not in the least alter the +matter. The people who inveigh the most fiercely against the pretensions +of blue blood are generally, the world over, the ones who are devoured +by the most ardent retrospective ambitions for grandfathers and +grandmothers; and the Americans who cry out loudest against the hollow +vanity of the European aristocracy are generally those who have +genealogical trees and coats-of-arms of authenticity more or less +questionable hanging in their back parlor, and think themselves a step +removed from those among their neighbors who boast of no such property.</p> + +<p>It may not be pleasant for us to acknowledge to ourselves that our +countrymen abroad are cankered with toadyism and are frightful snobs; +but so it is, nevertheless. The fact is very visible, veil it as we may. +The American who has not had it forced upon his attention in innumerable +ways—by the undisguised <i>empressement</i> of those among his compatriots +who frankly spend their whole time running after persons with titles, +entertaining them and fawning upon them in every possible manner, no +more than by the intensely American Americans who profess supreme +disregard for all precedence and distinctions established by society, +and yet never fail to let you know, quite accidentally, that Count This, +Baron That and Marquis the Other are their very particular friends—has +had an exceptional experience indeed.</p> + +<p>This manner of disposing of all Americans abroad by putting them into +one of these two categories may seem somewhat sweeping, and it will be +objected that there are hundreds of our countrymen in Europe who could +never come under the head of either. Granted. These hundreds undoubtedly +exist: they are made up of people of superior mind and intelligence, of +people of superior culture, of people who occupy that exceptional social +position which, either through associations of hereditary ease, +refinement, wealth and elegance, or by contact with "the best" of +everything from childhood up, confers on those who belong to it very +much the same outward gloss the world over. But it is never among such +exceptions that the distinctive characteristics of a nation are to be +sought. These are to be looked for in the great mass of the people. Now, +the great mass of Americans who go abroad are people of average minds, +average education, average positions; and that, thus taken as a mass, +they are lamentably lacking both in good taste and dignity, every one +must admit who is in any degree familiar with the American colonies in +the cities of Europe where our countrymen congregate.</p> + +<p>I should perhaps say, to express myself more accurately, "where our +countrywomen congregate;" for, after all, the true representatives of +America in Europe are the American women. Nine-tenths of all the +American colonies consist of mothers who, having left their liege lords +to their stocks and merchandise, have come abroad "for the education of +their children"—an exceedingly elastic as well as convenient formula, +which somehow always makes one think of charity that "covereth a +multitude of sins." Occasionally—once in three or four years +perhaps—the husband leaves his stocks or merchandise for a brief space +of time, crosses the Atlantic and remains with his family a month or +two. Occasionally also he fails to appear altogether. I am not very sure +but that this last course is the one that foreigners expect him to +pursue, and that when he deviates from it it is not rather a surprise to +them. Europeans, I fancy, are somewhat apt to look upon the American +husband as a myth. At all events, it seems to take the experience of +Thomas in many<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[Pg 469]</a></span> instances to convince them of his material existence. +The American who is content to have his wife and children leave him for +an indefinite period ranging anywhere from one year to ten years, and +during that time enjoy the advantages of life and travel in Europe, +while he himself remains at home absorbed in his business, is a species +of the genus <i>Homo</i> that Europeans are at a loss to comprehend. Being so +rarely seen in the flesh, he necessarily occupies but a secondary +position in their estimation: indeed, I think all American men, those of +the class named no more than those that are more frequently seen abroad, +such as doctors, clergymen, consuls, etc., may be said—some exception +being made for the "leisure class" possessed of four-in-hands and so on, +and an unlimited supply of the world's goods—to be considered by +Europeans of no great significance, socially speaking. It is madame and +mesdemoiselles who are all-important. Monsieur is thought a worthy +person, with some excellent qualities, such as freedom from +uncomfortable jealousies and suspicions, and both capacity and +willingness for furnishing remittances, but a person rather destitute of +polish—invaluable from a domestic point of view, from any other +somewhat uninteresting. But madame and mesdemoiselles have every +possible tribute paid to their charms: their beauty, their wit, their +dash and sparkle, their independence, receive as large a share of +admiration as the most insatiable among them could desire.</p> + +<p>It must be owned that the American spirit, tempered by European +education or influences, makes a very delightful compound. And it is +astonishing to mark how soon the toning process does its work—how soon +the most objectionable American girl of the sort known as "fast," or +even "loud," softens into a very charming creature who makes the +admiration bestowed upon her by European men quite comprehensible.</p> + +<p>That this admiration is returned is perhaps not less comprehensible. +American women, as a mass, are better educated than American men, and +are particularly their superiors so far as outward grace and polish and +the general amenities of life are concerned. These qualities, in which +their countrymen are deficient, and the blander manners which accompany +them, they are apt to find well developed in European men, whatever +other virtues or faults may be theirs; and when to this fact is added +the spice of novelty, the strong liking that American girls manifest for +foreigners, and which has been the cause of putting so many American +youths in anything but a benedictory frame of mind, is easily accounted +for, and the marriages which so frequently take place between our girls +and European men may be explained, even on other grounds than the common +exchange of money on one side and title on the other.</p> + +<p>Be the motive of these marriages either mutual interest or mutual +inclination, in neither case does the generally-accepted theory that +they are never happy bear the test of application. So far as my +knowledge goes, the common experience is quite the reverse. The number +of matches between American girls and Europeans that turn out badly is +small compared to the number of those that are perfectly satisfactory. +It is astonishing to see how many of our girls, who have been brought up +in the belief of the American woman's prerogative of absolute supremacy +in the domestic circle, when they are thus married change and seem quite +content to relinquish not a few of their ideas of perfectly untrammelled +independence, and to take that more subordinate position in matrimony +which European life and customs allot to women. It is still more +astonishing to see how contentedly and cheerfully they do so when +marrying men, as they often do, whose equals in every point, were they +their own countrymen, they would consider decidedly bad <i>partis</i>—men +with no advantages of any description, without either position, career +or any visible means of livelihood, often passably destitute of +education and character as well. How they contrive to be satisfied with +their bargain in this case is a puzzle, but satisfied they are.</p> + +<p>Marriages of this sort, where the man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[Pg 470]</a></span> has absolutely nothing to offer +beyond the charms of his more or less blandly persuasive person, excite +no surprise abroad. That a penniless male fortune-hunter should marry a +girl with wealth is considered in Europe at the present day not only +just, proper and quite as it should be, but rather <i>comme il faut</i> than +otherwise. Let the case be reversed, and a man of fortune permit himself +the caprice of marrying a portionless girl, and society cries out in +horror against the mésalliance.</p> + +<p>American women in Europe have two chief aims and occupations. The first +is to obtain an <i>entrée</i> into the society of the country in which they +are residing, and to identify themselves with that society: the second +is to revile one another.</p> + +<p>So far as the first aim is concerned, it is certainly most laudable, +taken in one sense: the persons who can live in the midst of a people +without endeavoring to gain an insight into its character and its +customs must be possessed of an exceptionally oyster-like organization +indeed. But the majority of American women seek foreign society on other +grounds than this—chiefly from that tendency to ape everything European +and to decry everything American to which I have already alluded as +being characteristic of us as a nation. England and the English are the +principal models chosen for imitation. It is marvellous to notice the +fondness of American women abroad for the English accent and manner of +speech and way of thinking; how enthusiastically they attend all the +meets in Rome; how plaintively they tell one if one happens to have +arrived quite recently from home, "Really, there is no riding across +country in <i>your</i> America, you know." In the cities of the Continent +that have large English and American colonies they attend the English +church in preference to their own. I believe it is considered more +exclusive to do so, and better form. In this mania for all things +English we are not alone. John Bull happens to be the fashion of the day +quite as much on the continent of Europe as in America, and has quite as +many devoted worshippers there as among us.</p> + +<p>Naturally, one of the chief reasons why American women have so great a +liking for European society is to be found in the fact of the far more +important position that married ladies occupy in that society than they +do with us. For a woman who feels that she has still attractions which +should not be buried in obscurity, but who has found that since her +marriage she has, to all intents and purposes, been "laid upon the +shelf," it is a very delightful experience to see herself once more the +object of solicitous attention, considered as one of the brilliant +central ornaments of a ballroom, not as one of its indispensable +wall-decorations. The experience seems to be so particularly pleasant to +the majority of American women, indeed, that they show the greatest +disinclination to sharing it one with the other—a disinclination made +manifest by that habit of reviling each other which I mentioned as the +second great aim and occupation of our countrywomen abroad. That there +should be very little kindness and fellow-feeling, and a great deal of +envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness among their members, is +characteristic of all foreign colonies in every country; but none +certainly can, in this respect, surpass the American colonies in Europe, +at least in so far as their feminine representatives are concerned. The +extent to which these ladies carry their backbiting and slandering, and +the abnormal growth which their jealousy of one another attains, fill +the masculine mind with amazement.</p> + +<p>A lady of a certain age who had lived in Europe twenty years, and who, +in addition to being a person of great clearness and robustness of +judgment, held a position, as a widow with a comfortable competency, +which made her verdict unassailable by any suspicion of its being an +interested one, spoke to me once on this subject. "In all my experience +of American life in Europe," she said, "I may safely state that I have +never met more than half a dozen American women who had anything but +ill-natured remarks to make of one another. No American woman need hope, +live as she may, do as she may, say what she may, to escape<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[Pg 471]</a></span> criticism +at the hands of her countrywomen. The mildest manner in which they will +treat her in conversation will be to say that she is 'nobody,' 'never +goes anywhere,' etc., and thus dismiss her. In every other case it is, +'Mrs. A——? Oh yes, such a charming person! Perhaps just a little bit +inclined to put on airs, but then—Oh, a very nice little woman. I don't +suppose she has ever really been accustomed to much, you know. They say +her mother was a dressmaker, but of course one never knows how true +these things may be. She does make frantic efforts to get into society +here: it is quite amusing. I think the Von Z——s have rather taken her +up. She has plenty of money to spend, oh yes. I can't see how her +husband can afford to let her live in the style she does abroad, but +then that is <i>his</i> affair. She entertains all these people, and of +course they go to her house because she can give them some +amusement.'—'Mrs. B——? Do I know anything about her? Well, I think I +do. Nice? Oh, I do not know that there is anything to be said against +her. To be sure, in Paris people <i>did</i> say some rather ugly things. +There was a Count L——. And I heard from a very reliable source that +she was not on exactly good terms with her husband. So, having +daughters, you know, I was obliged to be prudent and rather to shun her +than otherwise. Without wishing to be ill-natured I feel inclined to +advise you to do the same: I think you will find it quite as well to do +so.'—'Mrs. C——? Oh, my dear, such a coarse, common, vulgar creature! +She was never received in any sort of good society in New York. Her +husband made money one fine day, and she has come abroad and is trying +to impose upon people here. She is perfectly ignorant—no education +whatever. And the daughters are horribly <i>mauvais genre</i>.'—'Mrs. D——? +I should call her an undesirable acquaintance. Not but what she is a +very nice sort of person—in her way—but she does make up so +frightfully, and she looks so fast. Always has a crowd of officers +dangling about her. Her husband is a stick. They <i>do</i> say that when his +relatives came abroad last winter they would not call upon him. They +were completely incensed at the way in which he permits his wife to +carry on.'—'Mrs. E——? Pray, who is Mrs. E——? and where does she get +the money to live as she does? I knew her a few years ago, when she had +a thousand a year to live on, she and both her children. And now, the +toilettes she makes! And, some people say, the debts! And, really, I +don't see how it can be otherwise, knowing, as I do, that all the +members of her family are as poor as church mice. Her husband committed +suicide, you know.—No! did you never hear that? Oh yes: he was mixed up +in some rather shady transactions in business, and put an end to himself +in that way.'—'Mrs. F——? Oh yes, I remember. An old thing, with a +grown-up son, who dresses as if she were fifteen. Dreadfully affected, +and <i>so</i> silly! Moreover, Mrs. I—— lived in the same house with her in +Dresden—had the apartment above hers—and she told me the servants said +that Mrs. F—— was always in some difficulty with tradespeople.'—'Miss +G——? Is it possible you have never heard about her? Why, she ran away +with a footman, or something of the kind. Was brought back before she +had reached the station, I believe; but you can imagine the scandal! All +the girls in that family are rather queer, which, considering the stock +they come from, is really not very strange,' etc. etc. etc."</p> + +<p>In view of these facts, and of many more of the same nature, when one +sees the people who come back from Europe after an absence of a year or +two unable to speak their own language fluently, because they have heard +and spoken nothing but German or French or Italian during that time, and +who cannot stand the climate because they are not used to it; when one +sees the young ladies who return home unable to take any interest in +American life, and who shut themselves away from its society, which to +them is most unpolished and vapid, because they have had a European +education; when one sees the hundred follies which a glimpse of Europe +will put into the heads of people whom before one had had every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[Pg 472]</a></span> reason +to think sensible enough,—one feels inclined to ask one's self the +question, Are we to conclude that European life is demoralizing to +Americans? Are we to conclude that the innumerable advantages that such +a life confers—the wider view and broader knowledge of things, the +softening influences gained by contact with a riper civilization, the +æsthetic tastes developed by acquaintance with older and more perfect +art—are to count as nothing, are to be outweighed by the disadvantages +of the same life?</p> + +<p>Certainly, out of a hundred Americans who go abroad ninety-nine return +with what they have lost in narrowness of experience completely offset +by what they have gained in pretentious affectation. So far from being +improved in any way are they that their well-wishers are inclined to +think it would have been far better had they never gone at all.</p> + +<p>I do not wish to draw the ultimate conclusion from all this that it +would be better for Americans were their periodical exodus to Europe to +cease. Far from it. That cultivated Americans, and Americans +particularly of a more reflective than active mind, should find the +relative ease, culture and simplicity of European life more congenial to +them than the restless, high-pressure life of America, is quite natural. +And if there are no interests or ties to make their presence in their +own country imperatively necessary, it is certainly a matter of option +with them where they take up their abode. There is no law, human or +divine, to bind a person to live in one certain spot when the +surroundings are uncongenial to him, and when no private duty fetters +him to it, for the simple reason that he has chanced to be born there. +Every one is certainly at liberty to seek the centre that best suits him +and answers to his needs. Again, there are numbers of persons who with +moderate means can live according to their taste in Europe when it would +be impossible for them to do so in America on the same amount. There are +a thousand small gratifications that people can afford themselves on a +small income abroad, a thousand small pleasures in life from which in +our country they would be hopelessly debarred; and that they should be +debarred from them when escape is possible, and not only possible but +most simple and easy, would indeed be hard.</p> + +<p>But why cannot Americans indulge this preference for life in Europe, why +can they not avail themselves of the choice if it is open to them, and +yet remember that they <i>are</i> Americans, and that no circumstance can +absolve them from a sacred obligation to show respect for their native +country, and to stand as its citizens on their own dignity? Men and +women may be conscious of faults and weaknesses in their parents, but +they are not expected to expose these weaknesses on that account: +instinctive delicacy in any one but a churl would keep him from +acknowledging any such failings to his own heart. And a similar feeling +should teach us, even if our sympathies were not with our own country, +to treat it in word and deed with respect. Until we do learn to show +this respect before Europeans we must still resign ourselves to the +imputation, if they wish to make it, of crudeness, of being still sadly +in want of refining.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Alain Gore</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[Pg 473]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="GLIMPSES_OF_PORTUGAL_AND_THE_PORTUGUESE" id="GLIMPSES_OF_PORTUGAL_AND_THE_PORTUGUESE"></a>GLIMPSES OF PORTUGAL AND THE PORTUGUESE.</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image146.jpg" width="600" height="276" alt="Sketch Map of NORTH SPAIN and PORTUGAL." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Sketch Map of NORTH SPAIN and PORTUGAL.</span> +</div> + + +<p>The mere name of Spain calls up at once a string of flashing, barbaric +pictures—Moorish magnificence and Christian chivalry, bull-fights, +boleros, serenades, tattered pride and cruel pleasure. All these things +go to form that piquant whole, half Eastern, half European, which is the +Spain of our imaginations. Our associations with the western part of the +Peninsula are, on the other hand, vague and incomplete. Vasco da Gama, +the earthquake of Lisbon, port wine and Portuguese plums are the +Lusitanian products most readily called to mind. After them would come +perhaps the names of Magellan, of Prince Henry the Navigator and of the +ill-fated Don Sebastian. One poet of the country, Camoens, is as often +referred to as Tasso or Ariosto. Those whose memories go back to the +European events of 1830 and thereabouts may recall the Portuguese civil +wars, the woes of Dona Maria and the dark infamy of Don Miguel. And more +recently have we not heard of the Portuguese <i>Guide to English +Conversation</i> and relished its delicious discoveries in our language? +All these items do not, however, present a very vivid or finished +picture of the country: like the words in a dictionary, they are a +trifle disconnected.</p> + +<p>Portugal was the first station of Childe Harold's pilgrimage, but it +holds no place in the ordinary European tour of to-day. It does not +connect with any of the main lines of travel in such a manner as to +beguile the tourist insensibly over its border: a deliberate start must +be made by steamer from England in order to reach Lisbon from the north. +Another and probably stronger reason for our neglect of its scenery is +that it is not talked of. We go to Europe to see places and follow up +associations with which fame has already made us familiar, and, though +Portugal has had a great past of which the records are still extant, it +has not been brought to our notice by art.</p> + +<p>The two nations living side by side on the Peninsula, though originally +of the same stock and subjected to the same influences, present more +points of difference than of likeness. Their early history is the same. +Hispania and Lusitania both fell successively under the dominion of the +Romans and of the Moors, and were modified to a considerable extent by +the civilization of each. Moorish influence was predominant in +Spain—Portugal retained more deeply the Roman stamp. This is easily +seen in the literature of the two countries. Spanish ballads and plays +show the Eastern delight in hyperbole, the Eastern fertility of +invention: Portuguese literature is completely classic in spirit, +avoiding all exaggeration, all offences against taste, and confining +itself to classic forms, such as the pastoral, the epic and the sonnet. +Many Moorish customs survive in Portugal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[Pg 474]</a></span> to this day, but they have not +become so closely assimilated there as in Spain to the character of the +people. The cruelty which has always marked the Spanish race is no part +of the Portuguese national character, which is conspicuous rather for +the "gentler-sexed humanity." True, the bull-fight, that barbarous +legacy of the Moors, still lingers among the Portuguese, but the sport +is pursued with no such wanton intoxication of cruelty as in the country +with which its name is now associated. On the other hand, the Roman +tradition has been preserved in Portugal more perfectly than in Italy +itself: in the "fairest of Roman colonies," as it was once called, there +will be found manners and customs which bring up more vividly the life +portrayed by the classic poets than any existing among the peasants of +modern Italy.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<img src="images/image147.jpg" width="361" height="500" alt="ANCIENT HOUSE IN OPORTO." title="" /> +<span class="caption">ANCIENT HOUSE IN OPORTO.</span> +</div> + + +<p>Both Rome and Arabia stood sponsors for the land they thus endowed. The +name <i>Portugal</i> is compounded of the Latin <i>portus</i>, a "port," and the +Arabic <i>caläh</i>, a "castle" or "fortress." The first of these names was +originally given to the town which still retains it—Oporto—one of the +oldest of Portugal, and at one time its capital.</p> + +<p>The history of Portugal, when it separates from that of Spain, is the +history of a single stupendous achievement. A small nation raising +itself in a short time to the power of a great empire, reaching a height +which to gain was incredible, to keep impossible, and at the first +relaxation of effort suddenly falling with a disastrous crash,—that is +the drama of Portugal's greatness. There was no gradual rise or decline: +it mounted and fell. There is a tradition that the first king of +Portugal, Affonso Henriquez, was crowned on the battlefield with a burst +of enthusiasm on the part of the soldiers whom he was leading against +the Saracens, and that on the same day he opened his reign by the +glorious victory of Ourique. Less than half a century previously the +country had been given as a fief to a young knight, Count Henry of +Burgundy, on his marriage with a daughter of the king of Castile. The +Moors were overrunning it on the one hand, Castile was eying it +jealously on the other, yet Affonso Henriquez made it an independent and +permanent kingdom. This prince slaughtered Saracens and carried off +honors on the field as fast as the Cid, but his deeds were not embalmed +in an epic destined to become a storehouse of poetry for all the world. +His chronicler did not come till about four centuries later, and then +nearer and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[Pg 475]</a></span> vaster achievements than those of Affonso Henriquez lay +ready to his pen. At the birth of Camoens, in 1525, Portugal had gained +her greatest conquests, and, if the shadows were already falling across +her power, she had still great men who were making heroic efforts to +retain it. Vasco da Gama had died within the year. Albuquerque, the hero +of the <i>Lusiado</i>, the noblest and most far-sighted mind in an age of +great men, had been dead ten years. Camoens, like the Greek dramatists, +was soldier as well as poet: he was not alone the singer of past +adventures—he was the reporter of what took place under his own eyes. +His epic was already finished before the defeat of Don Sebastian in the +battle of Alcazar put an end to the glory it celebrated, and in dying +shortly after the poet is said to have breathed a prayer of thanksgiving +at being spared the pain of surviving his country.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image148.jpg" width="600" height="447" alt="CHAPEL NEAR GUIMARAENS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">CHAPEL NEAR GUIMARAENS.</span> +</div> + + +<p>The period of Portuguese supremacy lasted then, altogether, less than a +century. There is an irresistible temptation to ponder over what results +were lost by its sudden downfall, and to seek therein some explanation +of the strange fact that Portugal alone among the southern nations of +Europe has never had a national art. There was a moment when the +foundations for it seemed to be laid: it was the period at which early +Spanish art was putting forth its first efforts, while that of Italy was +in its prime. Under Emanuel the Fortunate and his successor Portugal was +rich and powerful. Its intellect and ambition had been stimulated by the +achievements of its great navigators. There was an awakening of interest +in art and letters. A school of poets had arisen of which Camoens was to +be the crown. The court, mindful of the duties of patronage, was +building new churches and convents and decorating the old ones with +religious pictures, and in Portugal religious feeling has always been +peculiarly strong. Many of these pictures are still preserved. They are +not, however, of a high order of merit, and it is not even certain that +they are the work of native artists, some authorities inclining to the +belief that they were done by inferior Flemish painters visiting the +country, and are therefore the lees of the Flemish school, not the +flower of a national one. Universal belief among the Portuguese<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[Pg 476]</a></span> +attributes them to Gran Vasco, a master whose very existence is +mythical, and who if he had lived several lives could not have painted +all the works of various styles which are ascribed to him. That the +artistic sense was not lacking in the Portuguese people is abundantly +shown in their architecture, in their repoussé-work of the fifteenth +century and the carvings in wood and stone. The church and convent at +Belem, the work of this period, are ornamented by Gothic stone-work of +exquisite richness and fertility of invention. The church is unfinished, +like the epoch it commemorates. To an age of activity and conquest +succeeded one of gloom and depression. The last of the kings whom the +nation had leaned on, while it supported them so loyally, had fallen at +Alcazar, and in the struggle which ensued for the succession Portugal +fell an easy prey to the strongest claimant. Philip II. strengthened his +claim to the vacant throne by sending an army of twenty thousand men +into the country under the command of the duke of Alva, and the other +heirs were too weak or too divided to oppose him. The discoveries and +conquests made by Portugal had laid the foundations of riches and power +for other nations: her own immediate benefit from them was over. The +period of prosperous repose which may be expected to follow one of great +national activity was denied to her. When the house of Braganza +recovered its rights, the impulse to creative art was extinct.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 402px;"> +<img src="images/image149.jpg" width="402" height="500" alt="CLOISTERS OF BELEM CONVENT." title="" /> +<span class="caption">CLOISTERS OF BELEM CONVENT.</span> +</div> + +<p>Though it was as a maritime power that Portugal rose to its greatest +height, it has been from time immemorial an agricultural nation, and the +mass of its people are engaged in tilling the soil. They are a cheerful, +industrious race, who, far from meriting Lord Byron's contemptuous +epithet of "Lusitanian boors," are gifted with a natural courtesy and +refinement of manner. A New-England farmer would be tempted to follow +the poet's example and regard them with contempt: weighed in his +balance, they would certainly be found wanting. There is no +public-school system in operation, and the Portuguese farmer is not +likely to be able to read or sign his name. But the want of literature +is not felt in a Southern country, where social intercourse is far more +cultivated than in our own rural districts. It is not by reading the +newspapers, but by talking matters over with his neighbor, that the +Portuguese farmer obtains his sound and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[Pg 477]</a></span> intelligent views on the +politics of his country. He is a great talker, taking a keen interest in +all that goes on, enjoying a joke thoroughly and addressing his comrade +with all the ceremonies and distinctions of a language which contains +half a dozen different forms of address. The illiterate peasant is no +whit behind the man of culture in the purity of his Portuguese. In no +country in Europe is the language kept freer from dialect, and this +notwithstanding the fact that it is one of involved grammatical forms. +In France the use of the imperfect subjunctive is given up by the lower +classes and by foreigners, but in Portugal the peasant has still deeper +subtleties of speech at the end of his tongue. Add to this that he has a +vocabulary of abuse before which the Spaniard or the California +mule-driver would be silenced, and you have the extent of his linguistic +accomplishments. This profane eloquence was an art imparted no doubt by +the Moors. The refinements of syntax come from the Latin, to which +Portuguese bears more affinity in form than any other modern language.</p> + +<p>From the Romans the Lusitanian received his first lessons in +agriculture—lessons which have never been entirely superseded. His +plough was given him by the Romans, and he has not yet seen fit to alter +the pattern. The ox-cart used in town and country for all purposes of +draught is another relic preserved intact. Its wheels of solid wood are +fastened to the axle, which revolves with them, this revolution being +accompanied by a chorus of inharmonious shrieks and creaks and wails +which to the foreign and prejudiced nerve is simply agonizing. Its +master hears it with a different ear: he finds it rather cheerful than +otherwise, good to enliven the oxen, to dispel the silence of lonely +places and to frighten away wolves and bogies, of which enemies he has a +childish awe. Instead, therefore, of pouring oil upon this discord, he +applies lemon-juice to aggravate the sound! The cart pleases the eye of +the stranger more than his ear. When in the vintage season the upright +poles forming its sides are bound together by a wickerwork of vine +branches with their large leaves, and the inside is heaped with purple +grapes, it is a goodly sight, and one which Alma-Tadema might paint as a +Roman vintage, for it is doubtless a counterfeit presentment of the +grape-laden wains which moved in the season of vintage over the +Campagna. The results in both cases were the same, for the <i>vinho +verde</i>, a harsh but refreshing wine, made and drunk by the +country-people, is made in the same way and is probably identical with +that wherewith the Latin farmer slaked his thirst. The recipe may have +descended through Lusus, the companion of Bacchus, whom tradition names +as the father of the Lusitanian. Be that as it may, the Portuguese is +still favored of the wine-god. Wine flows for him even more freely than +water, which gift of Nature has to be dug for and sought far and wide. +He drinks the ruby liquid at home and carries it afield: he even shares +it with his horse, who sinks his nose, nothing loth, in its inviting +depths, and neither man nor beast shows any ill effects from this +indulgence.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 276px;"> +<img src="images/image151.jpg" width="276" height="400" alt="A MADEIRA FISHERMAN." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A MADEIRA FISHERMAN.</span> +</div> + +<p>It is in the north-western corner of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[Pg 478]</a></span> country, in the Minho +province, that the highest rural prosperity is to be met with. This +little province, scarcely as large as the State of Delaware, but with +more than four times its population, has successfully solved the problem +of affording labor and sustenance in nearly equal shares to a large +number of inhabitants. Bonanza-farming is unheard of there. The high +perfection of its culture, which gives the whole province the trim, +thriving air of a well-kept garden, comes from individual labor minutely +bestowed on small surfaces. No mowing-, threshing- or other machines are +used. Instead of labor-saving, there is labor cheerfully expended—in +the place of the patent mower, a patient toiler (often of the fair sex), +armed with a short, curved reaping-hook. The very water, which flows +plentifully in fountains and channels, comes not direct from heaven +without the aid of man. It is coaxed down from the hills in tedious +miles of aqueduct or forced up from a great depth by a rustic +water-wheel worked by oxen, and is then distributed over the land. +Except for its aridity, the climate is kind to the small farmer: there +is no long inactivity forced upon him by a cold winter. A constant +succession of crops may be raised, and all through the year he works +cheerfully and industriously, finding his ten acres enough and his +curious broad hoe dexterously wielded the equivalent of shovel and +pickaxe. If ignorant of our inventions, he is intimately acquainted with +some American products. If a Yankee were to walk into a Portuguese +farm-house and surprise the family at dinner, he would be sure to see on +the table two articles which, however oddly served, would be in their +essentials familiar to him—Indian meal and salt codfish. Indian corn +has long been cultivated as the principal grain: it is mixed with rye to +make the bread in every-day use. The Newfoundland cod, under the name of +<i>bacalhau</i>, has crept far into the affections of the nation, its lack of +succulence being atoned for by a rich infusion of olive oil, so that the +native beef, cheap and good as it is, has no chance in comparison. +Altogether, the Portuguese peasant with his wine, his oil and his +bacalhau fares better than most of his class. At Christmas-tide he +stakes his digestion on <i>rebanadas</i>, a Moorish invention—nothing less +than ambrosial flapjacks made by soaking huge slices of wheaten bread in +new milk, frying them in olive oil and then spreading them lavishly with +honey.</p> + +<p>The Portuguese can be industrious, but all work and no play is a scheme +of life which would ill accord with his social, pleasure-loving +temperament. With a wisdom rare in his day and generation, and an energy +unparalleled among Southern races, he manages to combine the two. After +rising at dawn and working from twelve to fifteen hours, he does not sit +down and fall asleep, but slings a guitar over his shoulder and is off +to the nearest threshing-floor to dance a <i>bolero</i>. His dancing is not +the more graceful for coming after hours of field-labor, but it lacks +neither activity nor picturesqueness: above all, it is the outcome of +light-heartedness and enjoyment in capering. The night air, soft yet +cool, is refreshing after the intense heat of the day: the too sudden +lowering of temperature at sundown which makes the evenings unhealthy in +many Southern countries is not experienced in Portugal. Every peasant +has his guitar, for a love of music is widely diffused, and some of them +not only sing but improvise. In the province of the Minho it is not +uncommon at these gatherings for a match of improvisation to be held +between two rustic bards. One takes his guitar, and in a slow, drawling +recitative sings a simple quatrain, which the other at once caps with a +second in rhyme and rhythm matching the first. Verse follows verse in +steady succession, and the singer who hesitates is lost: his rival +rushes in with a tide of rhyme which carries all before it. In such +primitive pleasures the shepherds of the Virgilian eclogue indulged.</p> + +<p>As the life of the peasant, so is that of his wife or sweetheart. She +shares in the work, guiding the oxen, cutting grass, even working on the +road with hoe and basket. "Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound." +Like Wordsworth's reaper, she sings as she works, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[Pg 479]</a></span> day's labor +over is ready to join in the bolero. On fête-days she is arrayed in all +the magnificence of her peasant ornaments, worth, if her family is +well-to-do, a hundred dollars or more—gold pendants in her ears, large +gold chains of some antique Moorish design falling in a triple row over +her gay bodice. The men wear long hooded cloaks of brown homespun, which +they sometimes retain for convenience after the rest of the +peasant-dress has been thrown aside for the regulation coat and +trousers. There is no tendency to eccentricity in the national costume +of Portugal, but the Portuguese colony of Madeira have invented a +singular head-gear in a tiny skull-cap surmounted by a steeple of +tightly-wound cloth, which serves as a handle to lift it by. Like the +German student's cap, it requires practice to make it adhere at the +required angle. This is a bit of coxcombry which has no match in the +simple, unaffected vanity of the Portuguese.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image154.jpg" width="500" height="363" alt="COUNTRY-HOUSE IN PORTUGAL." title="" /> +<span class="caption">COUNTRY-HOUSE IN PORTUGAL.</span> +</div> + +<p>The country is left during the greater part of the year to the exclusive +occupancy of the peasantry, the town atmosphere being more congenial in +the long run to the social gentry of Portugal. The wealthy class in +Lisbon have their villas at Cintra, in which paradise of Nature and art, +with its wonderful ensemble of precipices and palaces, forest and garden +scenes, they can enjoy mountains without forsaking society. Many Oporto +families own country-houses in the Minho, and rusticate there very +pleasantly for a month or two in early fall. The gentlemen have large +shooting-parties, conducted on widely-different principles from those so +unswervingly adhered to by Trollope's indefatigable sporting character, +Mr. Reginald Dobbs. In a Portuguese shooting the number of men and dogs +is often totally disproportionate to that of the game, and a single +partridge may find itself the centre of an alarming volley from a dozen +or more guns. The enjoyment is not measured, however, by the success. +There is a great deal of talking and laughing, and no discontent with +the day's sport is exhibited even if there be little to show for the +skill and patience expended. There is further occupation in +superintending vintage and harvest, while the orange-groves and +luxuriant gardens offer plenty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[Pg 480]</a></span> of resources for exercise or idleness. +Plant-life in Portugal is singularly varied even for so warm a country. +To the native orange, olive and other trees of Southern Europe have been +added many exotics. The large magnolia of our Southern States, the +Japanese camellia and the Australian gum tree have made themselves at +home there, and grow as if their roots were in their native soil. +Geraniums and heliotrope, which we confine easily in flower-pots, assume +a different aspect in the public gardens of Lisbon, where the former is +seen in flaming trees and hedges twenty or thirty feet high, and the +latter distributes its fragrance while covering the high walls with its +spreading arms.</p> + +<p>The grapes from which port-wine is made are all grown within the narrow +compass of a mountain-valley about twenty-seven miles long by five or +six wide, where the conditions of soil and climate most favorable to +wine-culture—including a large degree of both heat and cold—are found +in perfection. Owing to its elevation the frosts in this district are +tolerably severe, while in summer the sun looks steadily down with his +hot glance into the valley till its vine-clad sides are permeated by +heat. The grapes ripened there are of peculiar richness and strength. +The trade is all in the hands of a certain number of English merchants +at Oporto, who buy the grapes as they hang of the native farmers and +have the wine made under their own supervision. The wine-making is +conducted in much the same manner as in other countries, a certain +quantity of spirits being added to arrest decay and ensure its +preservation. All wine has passed through the first stage of decay, +fermentation, and is liable at any time to continue the course. It may +be made with little or no alcohol if it is to be drunk within the year: +to ensure a longer lease of life some antiseptic is necessary. Port is, +from its richness, peculiarly liable to decay, and will stand +fortification better than sherry, which being a light wine is less in +need of it and more apt to be over-fortified. The area in which port is +produced being so small, there can be no material difference in the +produce of different vineyards, but some slight superiorities of soil or +aspect have given the Vesuvio, the Raïda and a few other wines a special +reputation.</p> + +<p>The history of port is a somewhat curious one. It is associated closely +with the old English gentleman of a bygone generation, a staunch and +bigoted being who despised French wines as he abhorred the French +nation, and agreed with Doctor Johnson that claret was for boys, port +for men. The vintage of 1820 was a remarkable one in Portugal. The port +made in that season was of a peculiar strength and sweetness, in color +nearly black. The old English gentleman would acknowledge no other as +genuine, and, as Nature positively refused to repeat the experiment, the +practice of dyeing port with dried elderberries and increasing the +infusion of brandy to impart strength and flavor was resorted to. It was +successful for some time, but after a while the secret oozed out, and +the public began to receive the garnet-hued liquid again into favor, and +to find, with Douglas Jerrold, that it preferred the old port to the +<i>elder</i>. The elderberry is not sufficiently common in Portugal to make +the continuation of this process popular with wine-makers. At present +port is tolerably free from adulteration, though its casks and those of +an inferior red wine of Spain after voyaging to England sometimes find +their contents a little mixed.</p> + +<p>Oporto is the seat of the wine-trade, and its huge warehouses are filled +with stores of port ripening to a good old age, when the garnet will be +exchanged for a dark umber tint. A handsome, thriving city is Oporto, +mounting in terraces up the slope of a steep hill. A fine quay runs the +length of the town along the Douro, and here the active life of Oporto +is mainly concentrated. Any stranger watching this stir of movement and +color will be struck by the prominent position which women fill in the +busy crowd. The men do not absorb all branches of labor. Besides the +water-carriers, market-women and fruit-vendors there may be seen +straight, stalwart lasses acting as portresses to convey loads to and +from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[Pg 481]</a></span> the boats which are fastened to the river-wall. Many of the +servants and other laborers through Portugal come from Galicia, the +inhabitants of that Spanish province enjoying a reputation for honesty +and faithful service combined with stupidity.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/image157.jpg" width="550" height="347" alt="QUAY AT OPORTO—THE QUEEN'S STAIRS." title="" /> +<span class="caption">QUAY AT OPORTO—THE QUEEN'S STAIRS.</span> +</div> + +<p>A sad contrast to the fertility of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[Pg 482]</a></span> Minho is presented by the +country opposite Lisbon and the adjoining province of Alemtejo. This +Portuguese <i>campagna</i> was in Roman days a fertile plain covered with +golden wheat-fields. Now it is a barren, melancholy waste, producing +only ruins. It is in and about this region that the most important Roman +remains in the country are to be found. The soil in the neighborhood of +Evora is rich in coins and other relics, and Evora has, besides its +great aqueduct, the massive pillars of a temple to Diana, which, sad to +say, was once put to ignoble use as a slaughter-house. The ruins of +Troia have escaped desecration, if they have not obtained the care and +study which they merit. Lying on a low tongue of land which projects +into the bay of Setubal, the city of Troia is buried, not in Pompeian +lava, but in deep mounds of sand, accumulated there by the winds and +waves. A tremendous storm in 1814 washed away a part of this sand and +revealed something of its treasure, but it was not till 1850 that the +hint was followed up by antiquaries and a regular digging made. A large +Roman house was uncovered, together with a vast débris of marble +columns, mosaic pavements, baths, urns, and other appurtenances of Roman +existence. The excavations have been far from thorough; the peninsular +Troy still awaits its Schliemann. The name Troia was probably bestowed +by Portuguese antiquaries of the Renaissance period, who mention it thus +in their writings. According to Roman records, the city flourished about +300 <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> as Cetobriga.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 514px;"> +<img src="images/image158.jpg" width="514" height="450" alt="Sketch Map of SETUBAL and RUINS OF TROIA." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Sketch Map of SETUBAL and RUINS OF TROIA.</span> +</div> + +<p>We must return to the Minho province—still the most representative +section of Portugal—for monuments of Portuguese antiquity. Guimaraens +is the oldest town of purely native growth, and is closely associated +with the life of Affonso Henriquez. The massive castle in which he was +born, and the church which witnessed the christening of the first king +of Portugal, are still standing: the old walls of the town date back to +the time of the hero; and not far off is the field where he fought the +battle which gained him his independence at eighteen. Within a few miles +of Guimaraens is Braga, celebrated for centuries as a stronghold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[Pg 483]</a></span> of the +Church. Its Gothic cathedral is of grand proportions, containing a +triple nave, and belongs to the thirteenth century. The church treasures +shut up in its sanctuary are among the richest in the Peninsula.</p> + +<p>Portugal presents the curious spectacle of a country in which the +customs of antiquity have lasted as long as its monuments. In a certain +way the former are the more impressive. As some little familiar trait +will sometimes give a fresher insight into a great man than the more +important facts of his biography, so the ploughing, harvesting and +singing of a Portuguese peasant, with their bucolic simplicity, bring +the life of the ancients a little nearer to us than the sight of their +great aqueducts and columns. But the nineteenth century is striking the +death-blow of the bucolic very fast, the world over, and Portugal is +awake and bestirring herself—not the less effectively that she is +making no noise about it. Nevertheless, she is becoming better known. +Mr. Oswald Crawfurd, the English consul at Oporto, who has lived in +Portugal for many years, is writing about it from the best point of +view, half within, half without. His book of travels published under the +pseudonym of Latouche, and a volume entitled <i>Portugal, Old and New</i>, +recently issued under his own name, throw a strong, clear light upon the +country and its inhabitants. Another sympathetic and entertaining +traveller is Lady Jackson, the author of <i>Fair Lusitania</i>.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image159.jpg" width="400" height="296" alt="CHURCH PLATE IN BRAGA CATHEDRAL." title="" /> +<span class="caption">CHURCH PLATE IN BRAGA CATHEDRAL.</span> +</div> + +<p>The Portugal of Mr. Crawfurd and Lady Jackson is a different land from +that which Southey, Byron and other English celebrities visited at the +beginning of this century: it is not the same which Wordsworth's +daughter, Mrs. Quillinan, travelled through on horseback in 1837, making +light of inconveniences and looking at everything with kind, frank eyes. +Lisbon is no longer a beautiful casket filled with dirt and filth, but a +clean, bright and active city, and Portugal is no longer a sleeping +land, but a well-governed country, which will probably be hindered by +its small natural proportions, but not by any sluggishness or incapacity +of its people, from taking a high place among European nations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[Pg 484]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_GRAVEYARD_IDYL" id="A_GRAVEYARD_IDYL"></a>A GRAVEYARD IDYL.</h2> + + +<p>In the summer of 187-, when young Doctor Putnam was recovering from an +attack of typhoid fever, he used to take short walks in the suburbs of +the little provincial town where he lived. He was still weak enough to +need a cane, and had to sit down now and then to rest. His favorite +haunt was an old-fashioned cemetery lying at the western edge of the +alluvial terrace on which the town is built. The steep hillside abuts +boldly on the salt marsh. One of the cemetery-paths runs along the brink +of the hill; and here, on a wooden bench under a clump of red cedars, +Putnam would sit for hours enjoying the listless mood of convalescence. +Where the will remains passive, the mind, like an idle weathercock, +turns to every puff of suggestion, and the senses, born new from +sickness, have the freshness and delicacy of a child's. It soothed his +eye to follow lazily the undulations of the creek, lying like the folds +of a blue silk ribbon on the flat ground of the marsh below. He watched +the ebbing tide suck down the water from the even lines of trenches that +sluiced the meadows till the black mud at their bottom glistened in the +sun. The opposite hills were dark with the heavy foliage of July. In the +distance a sail or two speckled the flashing waters of the bay, and the +lighthouse beyond bounded the southern horizon.</p> + +<p>It was a quiet, shady old cemetery, not much disturbed by funerals. Only +at rare intervals a fresh heap of earth and a slab of clean marble +intruded with their tale of a new and clamorous grief among the sunken +mounds and weatherstained tombstones of the ancient sleepers for whom +the tears had long been dried. Now and then a mourner came to put +flowers on a grave; now and then one of the two or three laborers who +kept the walks and shrubberies in order would come along the path by +Putnam's bench, trundling a squeaking wheelbarrow; sometimes a nurse +with a baby-carriage found her way in. But generally the only sounds to +break the quiet were the songs of birds, the rumble of a wagon over the +spile bridge across the creek and the whetting of scythes in the +water-meadows, where the mowers, in boots up to their waists, went +shearing the oozy plain and stacking up the salt hay.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Putnam was in his accustomed seat, whistling softly to +himself and cutting his initials into the edge of the bench. The air was +breathless, and the sunshine lay so hot on the marshes that it seemed to +draw up in a visible steam a briny incense which mingled with the spicy +smell of the red cedars. Absorbed in reverie, he failed to notice how +the scattered clouds that had been passing across the sky all the +afternoon were being gradually reinforced by big fluffy cumuli rolling +up from the north, until a rumble overhead and the rustle of a shower in +the trees aroused him.</p> + +<p>In the centre of the grounds was an ancient summer-house standing amidst +a maze of flower-beds intersected by gravel-walks. This was the nearest +shelter, and, as the rain began to patter smartly, Putnam pocketed his +knife, turned up his coat-collar and ran for it. Arrived at the +garden-house, he found there a group of three persons, driven to harbor +from different parts of the cemetery. The shower increased to a storm, +the lattices were lashed by the rain and a steady stream poured from the +eaves. The althæa and snowberry bushes in the flower-pots, and even the +stunted box-edges along the paths, swayed in the wind. It grew quite +dark in the summer-house, shaded by two or three old hemlocks, and it +was only by the lightning-flashes that Putnam could make out the +features of the little company of refugees. They stood in the middle of +the building, to avoid the sheets of rain blown in at the doors in +gusts, huddling around a pump that was raised on a narrow stone +platform—not unlike the daughters of Priam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[Pg 485]</a></span> clustered about the great +altar in the penetralia: Præcipites atra ceu tempestate columbæ.</p> + +<p>They consisted of a young girl, an elderly woman with a trowel and +watering-pot, and a workman in overalls, who carried a spade and had +perhaps been interrupted in digging a grave. The platform around the +pump hardly gave standing room for a fourth. Putnam accordingly took his +seat on a tool-chest near one of the entrances, and, while the soft +spray blew through the lattices over his face and clothes, he watched +the effect of the lightning-flashes on the tossing, dripping trees of +the cemetery-grounds.</p> + +<p>Soon a shout was heard and down one of the gravel-walks, now a miniature +river, rushed a Newfoundland dog, followed by a second man in overalls. +Both reached shelter soaked and lively. The dog distributed the contents +of his fur over our party by the pump, nosed inquiringly about, and then +subsided into a corner. Second laborer exchanged a few words with first +laborer, and melted into the general silence. The slight flurry caused +by their arrival was only momentary, while outside the storm rose higher +and inside it grew still darker. Now and then some one said something in +a low tone, addressed rather to himself than to the others, and lost in +the noise of the thunder and rain.</p> + +<p>But in spite of the silence there seemed to grow up out of the situation +a feeling of intimacy between the members of the little community in the +summer-house. The need of shelter—one of the primitive needs of +humanity—had brought them naturally together and shut them up "in a +tumultuous privacy of storm." In a few minutes, when the shower should +leave off, their paths would again diverge, but for the time being they +were inmates and held a household relation to one another.</p> + +<p>And so it came to pass that when it began to grow lighter and the rain +stopped, and the sun glanced out again on the reeking earth and +saturated foliage, conversation grew general.</p> + +<p>"Gracious sakes!" said the woman with the trowel and watering-pot as +she glanced along the winding canals that led out from the +summer-house—"jest see the water in them walks!"</p> + +<p>"Gol! 'tis awful!" murmured the Irishman with the spade. "There'll be a +fut of water in the grave, and the ould mon to be buried the morning!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, they had a right to put off the funeral," said the other workman, +"and not be giving the poor corp his death of cold."</p> + +<p>"'Tis warrum enough there where the ould mon's gone, but 'tis cold +working for a poor lad like mesilf in the bottom of a wet grave. Gol! +'tis like a dreen." With that he shouldered his spade and waded +reluctantly away.</p> + +<p>Second laborer paused to light his dhudeen, and then disappeared in the +opposite direction, his Newfoundland taking quite naturally to the +deepest puddles in their course.</p> + +<p>"Hath this fellow no feeling of his business?" asked Putnam, rising and +sauntering up to the pump. The question was meant more for the younger +than the elder of the two women, but the former paid no heed to it, and +the latter, by way of answer, merely glanced at him suspiciously and +said "H'm!" She was unlocking the tool-chest on which he had been +sitting, and now raised the lid, stowed away her trowel and +watering-pot, locked the chest again and put the key in her pocket, with +the remark, "I guess I hain't got any more use for a sprinkle-pot +to-day."</p> + +<p>"It is rather <i>de trop</i>," said Putnam.</p> + +<p>The old woman looked at him still more distrustfully, and then, drawing +up her skirts, showed to his great astonishment a pair of india-rubber +boots, in which she stumped away through the water and the mud, leaving +in the latter colossal tracks which speedily became as pond-holes in the +shallower bed of the stream. The younger woman stood at the door, +gathering her dress about her ankles and gazing irresolutely at these +frightful <i>vestigia</i> which gauged all too accurately the depth of the +mud and the surface-water above it.</p> + +<p>"They look like the fossil bird-tracks in the Connecticut Valley +sandstone,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[Pg 486]</a></span> said Putnam, following the direction of her eyes.</p> + +<p>These were very large and black. She turned them slowly on the speaker, +a tallish young fellow with a face expressive chiefly of a good-natured +audacity and an alertness for whatever in the way of amusement might +come within range. Her look rested on him indifferently, and then turned +back to the wet gravel.</p> + +<p>Putnam studied for a moment the back of her head and her figure, which +was girlishly slender and clad in gray. "How extraordinary," he resumed, +"that she should happen to have rubber boots on!"</p> + +<p>"She keeps them in the tool-chest. The cemetery-man gives her a key," +she replied after a pause, and as if reluctantly. Her voice was very low +and she had the air of talking to herself.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that a rather queer place for a wardrobe? I wonder if she keeps +anything else there besides the boots and the trowel and the +'sprinkle-pot'?"</p> + +<p>"I believe she has an umbrella and some flower-seeds."</p> + +<p>"Now, if she only had a Swedish cooking-box and a patent camp-lounge," +said Putnam laughing, "she could keep house here in regular style."</p> + +<p>"She spends a great deal of time here: her children are all here, she +told me."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's an odd taste to live in a burying-ground, but one might do +worse perhaps. There's nothing like getting accustomed gradually to what +you've got to come to. And then if one must select a cemetery for a +residence, this isn't a bad choice. Have you noticed what quaint old +ways they have about it? At sunset the sexton rings a big bell that +hangs in the arch over the gateway: he told me he had done it every day +for twenty years. It's not done, I believe, on the principle of firing a +sunset gun, but to let people walking in the grounds know the gate is to +be shut. There's a high stone wall, you know, and somebody might get +shut in all night. Think of having to spend the night here!"</p> + +<p>"I have spent the night here often," she answered, again in an absent +voice and as if murmuring to herself.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> have?" exclaimed Putnam. "Oh, you slept in the tool-chest, I +suppose, on the old lady's shake-down."</p> + +<p>She was silent, and he began to have a weird suspicion that she had +spoken in earnest. "This is getting interesting," he said to himself; +and then aloud, "You must have seen queer sights. Of course, when the +clock struck twelve all the ghosts popped out and sat on their +respective tombstones. The ghosts in this cemetery must be awfully old +fellows. It doesn't look as if they had buried any one here for a +hundred and thirty-five years. I've often thought it would be a good +idea to inscribe <i>Complet</i> over the gate, as they do on a Paris +omnibus."</p> + +<p>"You speak very lightly of the dead," said the young girl in a tone of +displeasure and looking directly at him.</p> + +<p>Putnam felt badly snubbed. He was about to attempt an explanation, but +her manner indicated that she considered the conversation at an end. She +gathered up her skirts and prepared to leave the summer-house. The water +had soaked away somewhat into the gravel.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me," said Putnam, advancing desperately and touching his hat, +"but I notice that your shoes are thin and the ground is still very wet. +I'm going right over to High street, and if I can send you a carriage or +anything—"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, no: I sha'n't need it;" and she stepped off hastily down the +walk.</p> + +<p>Putnam looked after her till a winding of the path took her out of +sight, and then started slowly homeward. "What the deuce could she +mean," he pondered as he walked along, "about spending the night in the +cemetery? Can she—no she can't—be the gatekeeper's daughter and live +in the gate-house? Anyway, she's mighty pretty."</p> + +<p>His mother and his maiden aunt, who with himself made up the entire +household, received him with small scoldings and twitterings of anxiety. +They felt his wet clothes, prophesied a return of his fever and forced +him to go immediately to bed, where they administered hot drinks and +toast soaked in scalded milk. He lay awake a long time, somewhat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[Pg 487]</a></span> +fatigued and excited. In his feeble condition and in the monotony which +his life had assumed of late the trifling experience of the afternoon +took on the full proportions of an adventure. He thought it over again +and again, but finally fell asleep and slept soundly. He awoke once, +just at dawn, and lay looking through his window at a rosy cloud which +reposed upon an infinite depth of sky, motionless as if sculptured +against the blue. A light morning wind stirred the curtains and the +scent of mignonette floated in from the dewy garden. He had that +confused sense of anticipation so common in moments between waking and +sleeping, when some new, pleasant thing has happened, or is to happen on +the morrow, which the memory is too drowsy to present distinctly. Of +this pleasant, indistinct promise that auroral cloud seemed somehow the +omen or symbol, and watching it he fell asleep again. When he next awoke +the sunlight of mid-forenoon was flooding the chamber, and he heard his +mother's voice below stairs as she sat at her sewing.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon he started on his customary walk, and his feet led him +involuntarily to the cemetery. As he traversed the path along the edge +of the hill he saw in one of the grave-lots the heroine of his +yesterday's encounter, and a sudden light broke in on him: she was a +mourner. And yet how happened it that she wore no black? There was a +wooden railing round the enclosure, and within it a single mound and a +tombstone of fresh marble. A few cut flowers lay on the grave. She was +sitting in a low wicker chair, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes +fixed vacantly on the western hills. Putnam now took closer note of her +face. It was of a brown paleness. The air of hauteur given it by the +purity of the profile and the almost insolent stare of the large black +eyes was contradicted by the sweet, irresolute curves of the mouth. At +present her look expressed only a profound apathy. As he approached her +eyes turned toward him, but seemingly without recognition. Diffidence +was not among Tom Putnam's failings: he felt drawn by an unconquerable +sympathy and attraction to speak to her, even at the risk of intruding +upon the sacredness of her grief.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, miss," he began, stopping in front of her, "but I want to +apologize for what I said yesterday about—about the cemetery. It must +have seemed very heartless to you, but I didn't know that you were in +mourning when I spoke as I did."</p> + +<p>"I have forgotten what you said," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you have," said Putnam, rather fatuously. There seemed really +nothing further to say, but as he lingered for a moment before turning +away a perverse recollection surprised him, and he laughed out loud.</p> + +<p>She cast a look of strong indignation at him, and rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I ask your pardon a thousand times," he exclaimed reddening +violently. "Please don't think that I was laughing at anything to do +with you. The fact is that last idiotic speech of mine reminded me of +something that happened day before yesterday. I've been sick, and I met +a friend on the street who said, 'I'm glad you're better;' and I +answered, 'I'm glad that you're glad that I'm better;' and then he said, +'I'm glad that you're glad that I'm glad that you're better'—like the +House that Jack Built, you know—and it came over me all of a sudden +that the only way to continue our conversation gracefully would be for +you to say, 'I'm glad that you're glad that I've forgotten what you said +yesterday.'"</p> + +<p>She had listened impatiently to this naïve and somewhat incoherent +explanation, and she now said, "I wish you would go away. You see that I +am alone here and in trouble. I can't imagine what motive you can have +for annoying me in this way," her eyes filling with angry tears.</p> + +<p>Putnam was too much pained by the vehemence of her language to attempt +any immediate reply. His first impulse was to bow and retire without +more words. But a pertinacity which formed one of his strongest though +perhaps least amiable traits countermanded his impulse, and he said +gravely, "Certainly, I will go at once,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[Pg 488]</a></span> but in justice to myself I must +first assure you that I didn't mean to intrude upon you or annoy you in +any way."</p> + +<p>She sank down into her chair and averted her face.</p> + +<p>"You say," he continued, "that you are in trouble, and I beg you to +believe that I respect your affliction, and that when I spoke to you +just now it was simply to ask pardon for having hurt your feelings +yesterday, without meaning to, by my light mention of the dead. I've +been too near death's door myself lately to joke about it." He paused, +but she remained silent. "I'm going away now," he said softly. "Won't +you say that you excuse me, and that you haven't any hard feelings +toward me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh yes," she answered wearily: "I have no feelings. Please go +away."</p> + +<p>Putnam raised his hat respectfully, and went off down the pathway. On +reaching the little gate-house he sat down to rest on a bench before the +door. The gatekeeper was standing on the threshold in his shirt-sleeves, +smoking a pipe. "A nice day after the rain, sir," he began.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is."</p> + +<p>"Have you any folks here, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, no one. But I come here sometimes for a stroll."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I've seen you about. Well, it's a nice, quiet place for a walk, +but the grounds ain't kep' up quite the shape they used to be: there +ain't so much occasion for it. Seems as though the buryin' business was +dull, like pretty much everything else now-a-days."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's so," replied Putnam absently.</p> + +<p>The gatekeeper spat reflectively upon the centre of the doorstep, and +resumed: "There's some that comes here quite reg'lar, but they mostly +have folks here. There's old Mrs. Lyon comes very steady, and there's +young Miss Pinckney: she's one of the most reg'lar."</p> + +<p>"Is that the young lady in gray, with black eyes?"</p> + +<p>"That's she."</p> + +<p>"Who is she in mourning for?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she ain't exactly in mourning. I guess, from what they say, she +hain't got the money for black bunnets and dresses, poor gal! But it's +her brother that's buried here—last April. He was in the hospital +learning the doctor's business when he was took down."</p> + +<p>"In the hospital? Was he from the South, do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that I can't say: like enough he was."</p> + +<p>"Did you say that she is poor?"</p> + +<p>"So they was telling me at the funeral. It was a mighty poor funeral +too—not more'n a couple of hacks. But you can't tell much from that, +with the fashions now-a-days: some of the richest folks buries private +like. You don't see no such funerals now as they had ten years back. +I've seen fifty kerridges to onst a-comin' in that gate," waving his +pipe impressively toward that piece of architecture, "and that was when +kerridge-hire was half again as high as it is now. She must have spent a +goodly sum in green-house flowers, though: fresh b[=o]quets 'most every +day she keeps a-fetchin'."</p> + +<p>"Well, good-day," said Putnam, starting off.</p> + +<p>"Good-day, sir."</p> + +<p>Putnam had himself just completed his studies at the medical college +when attacked by fever, and he now recalled somewhat vaguely a student +of the name of Pinckney, and remembered to have heard that he was a +Southerner. The gatekeeper's story increased the interest which he was +beginning to feel in his new acquaintance, and he resolved to follow up +his inauspicious beginnings to a better issue. He knew that great +delicacy would be needed in making further approaches, and so decided to +keep out of her sight for a time. In the course of the next few days he +ascertained, by visits to the cemetery and talks with the keeper, that +she now seldom visited her brother's grave in the forenoon, although +during the first month after his death she had spent all her days and +some of her nights beside it.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't the heart, sir, to turn her out at sundown, accordin' to the +regulations; so I'd leave the gate kinder half on the jar, and she'd +slip out when she had a mind to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[Pg 489]</a></span></p> + +<p>Putnam read the inscription on the tombstone, which ran as follows: "To +the Memory of Henry Pinckney. Born October 29th, 1852. Died April 27th, +187-;" and under this the text, "If thou have borne him hence, tell me +where thou hast laid him." He noticed with a sudden twinge of pity that +the flowers on the grave, though freshly picked every day, were +wild-flowers—mostly the common field varieties, with now and then a +rarer blossom from wood or swamp, and now and then a garden flower. He +gathered from this that the sister's purse was running low, and that she +spent her mornings in collecting flowers outside the city. His +imagination dwelt tenderly upon her slim, young figure and mourning face +passing through far-away fields and along the margins of lonely creeks +in search of some new bloom which grudging Nature might yield her for +her sorrowful needs. Meanwhile he determined that the shrine of her +devotion should not want richer offerings. There was a hot-house on the +way from his home to the cemetery, and he now stopped there occasionally +of a morning and bought a few roses to lay upon the mound. This +continued for a fortnight. He noticed that his offerings were left to +wither undisturbed, though the little bunches of field flowers were +daily renewed as before.</p> + +<p>In spite of the funereal nature of his occupation his spirits in these +days were extraordinarily high. His life, so lately escaped from the +shadows of death, seemed to enjoy a rejuvenescence and to put forth +fresh blossoms in the summer air. As he sat under the cedars and +listened to the buzzing of the flies that frequented the shade, the +unending sound grew to be an assurance of earthly immortality. His new +lease of existence prolonged itself into a fee simple, and even in +presence of the monuments of decay his future, filled with bright hazy +dreams, melted softly into eternity. But one morning as he approached +the little grave-lot with his accustomed offerings he looked up and saw +the young girl standing before him. Her eyes were fixed on the flowers +in his hand. He colored guiltily and stood still, like a boy caught +robbing an orchard. She looked both surprised and embarrassed, but said +at once, "If you are the gentleman who has been putting flowers on my +brother's grave, I thank you for his sake, but—"</p> + +<p>She paused, and he broke in: "I ought to explain, Miss Pinckney, that I +have a better right than you think, perhaps, to bring these flowers +here: I was a fellow-student with your brother in the medical school."</p> + +<p>Her expression changed immediately. "Oh, did you know my brother?" she +asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>He felt like a wretched hypocrite as he answered, "Yes, I knew him, +though not intimately exactly. But I took—I take—a very strong +interest in him."</p> + +<p>"Every one loved Henry who knew him," she said, "but his class have all +been graduated and gone away, and he made few friends, because he was so +shy. No one comes near him now but me."</p> + +<p>He was silent. She walked to the grave, and he followed, and they stood +there without speaking. It did not seem to occur to her to ask why he +had not mentioned her brother at their former interview. She was +evidently of an unsuspecting nature, or else all other impressions were +forgotten and absorbed in the one thought of her bereavement. After a +glance at her Putnam ventured to lay his roses reverently upon the +mound. She held in her hand a few wild-flowers just gathered. These she +kissed, and dropped them also on the grave. He understood the meaning of +her gesture and was deeply moved.</p> + +<p>"Poor little, dull-colored things!" she said, looking down at them.</p> + +<p>"They are a thousand times more beautiful than mine," he exclaimed +passionately. "I am ashamed of those heartless affairs: anybody can buy +them."</p> + +<p>"Oh no: my brother was very fond of roses. Perhaps you remember his +taste for them?" she inquired innocently.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't think he ever alluded to them. The atmosphere of the medical +college was not very æsthetic, you know."</p> + +<p>"At first I used to bring green-house flowers," she continued, without +much heeding his answer, "but lately I haven't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[Pg 490]</a></span> been able to afford them +except on Sundays. Sundays I bring white ones from the green-house."</p> + +<p>She had seated herself in her wicker chair, and Putnam, after a moment's +hesitation, sat down on the low railing near her. He observed among the +wild plants that she had gathered the mottled leaves and waxy blossoms +of the pipsissewa and its cousin the shinleaf.</p> + +<p>"You have been a long way to get some of those," he said: "that +pipsissewa grows in hemlock woods, and the nearest are several miles +from here."</p> + +<p>"I don't know their names. I found them in a wood where I used to walk +sometimes with my brother. <i>He</i> knew all their names. I went there very +early this morning, when the dew was on them."</p> + +<p>"'Flowers that have on them the cold dews of the night are strewings +fittest for graves,'" said Putnam in an undertone.</p> + +<p>Her face had assumed its usual absent expression, and she seemed busy +with some memory and unconscious of his presence. He recalled the latter +to her by rising and saying, "I will bid you good-morning now, but I +hope you will let me come and sit here sometimes if it doesn't disturb +you. I have been very sick myself lately: I was near dying of the +typhoid fever. I think it does me good to come here."</p> + +<p>"Did you have the typhoid? My brother died of the typhoid."</p> + +<p>"May I come sometimes?"</p> + +<p>"You may come if you wish to visit Henry. But please don't bring any +more of those expensive flowers. I suppose it is selfish in me, but I +can't bear to have any of his friends do more for him than I can."</p> + +<p>"I won't bring any more, of course, if it troubles you, and I thank you +very much for letting me come. Good-morning, Miss Pinckney." He bowed +and walked away.</p> + +<p>Putnam availed himself discreetly of the permission given. He came +occasionally of an afternoon, and sat for an hour at a time. Usually she +said little. Her silence appeared to proceed not from reserve, but from +dejection. Sometimes she spoke of her brother. Putnam learned that he +had been her only near relative. Their parents had died in her +childhood, and she had come North with her brother when he entered the +medical school. From something that she once said Putnam inferred that +her brother had owned an annuity which died with him, and that she had +been left with little or nothing. They had few acquaintances in the +North, almost none in the city. An aunt in the South had offered her a +home, and she was going there in the fall. She looked forward with dread +to the time of her departure.</p> + +<p>"It will be so cruel," she said, "to leave my poor boy all alone here +among strangers, and I never away from him before."</p> + +<p>"Don't think of it now," he answered, "and when you are gone I will come +here often and see to everything."</p> + +<p>Her bereavement had evidently benumbed all her faculties and left her +with a slight hold on life. She had no hopes or wishes for the future. +In alluding to her brother she confused her tenses, speaking of him +sometimes in the past, and sometimes in the present as of one still +alive. Putnam felt that in a girl of her age this mood was too unnatural +to last, and he reckoned not unreasonably on the reaction that must come +when her youth began again to assert its rights. He was now thoroughly +in love, and as he sat watching her beautiful abstracted face he found +it hard to keep back some expression of tenderness. Often, too, it was +difficult for him to tone down his spirits to the proper pitch of +respectful sympathy with her grief. His existence was golden with +new-found life and hope: into the shadow that covered hers he could not +enter. He could only endeavor to draw her out into the sunshine once +more.</p> + +<p>One day the two were sitting, as usual, in silence or speaking but +rarely. It was a day in the very core of summer, and the life of Nature +was at its flood. The shadows of the trees rested so heavy and +motionless on the grass that they appeared to sink into it and weigh it +down like palpable substances.</p> + +<p>"I feel," said Putnam suddenly, "as though I should live for ever."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever doubt it?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[Pg 491]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, I mean here—<i>ici bas</i>—in the body. I can't conceive of death or +of a spiritual existence on such a day as this."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing here to live for," she said wearily. Presently she +added, "This hot glare makes me sick: I wish those men would stop +hammering on the bridge. I wish I could die and get away into the dark."</p> + +<p>Putnam paused before replying. He had never heard her speak so +impatiently. Was the revulsion coming? Was she growing tired of sorrow? +After a minute he said, "Ah, you don't know what it is to be a +convalescent and lie for months in a darkened room listening to the +hand-organ man and the scissors-grinder, and the fellow that goes +through the street hallooing 'Cash paid for rags!' It's like having a +new body to get the use of your limbs again and come out into the +sunshine."</p> + +<p>"Were you very sick?" she inquired with some show of interest.</p> + +<p>He remembered with some mortification that he had told her so once or +twice before. She had apparently forgotten it. "Yes, I nearly died."</p> + +<p>"Were you glad to recover?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't remember that I had any feelings in particular when I +first struck the up-track. It was hard work fighting for life, and I +don't think I cared much one way or the other. But when I got well +enough to sit up it began to grow interesting. I used to sit at the +window in a very infantile frame of mind and watch everything that went +by. It wasn't a very rowdy life, as the prisoner in solitary confinement +said to Dickens. We live in a back street, where there's not much +passing. The advent of the baker's cart used to be the chief excitement. +It was painted red and yellow, and he baked very nice leaf-cookies. My +mother would hang a napkin in the door-knocker when she wanted him to +stop; and as I couldn't see the knocker from my window, I used to make +bets with Dummy as to whether the wagon would stop or not."</p> + +<p>"Your mother is living, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes: my father died when I was a boy."</p> + +<p>She asked no further questions, but a few minutes after rose and said, +"I think I will go now. Good-evening."</p> + +<p>He had never before outstayed her. He looked at his watch and found that +it was only half-past four.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he began anxiously, "that you are not feeling sick: you spoke +just now of being oppressed by the heat. Excuse me for staying so long."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," she answered, "I'm not sick. I reckon I need a little rest. +Good-evening."</p> + +<p>Putnam lingered after she was gone. He found his way to his old bench +under the cedars and sat there for a while. He had not occupied this +seat since his first meeting with Miss Pinckney in the summer-house, and +the initials which he had whittled on its edge impressed him as +belonging to some bygone stage of his history. This was the first time +that she had questioned him about himself. His sympathy had won her +confidence, but she had treated him hitherto in an impersonal way, as +something tributary to her brother's memory, like the tombstone or the +flowers on his grave. The suspicion that he was seeking her for her own +sake had not, so far as Putnam could discover, ever entered her +thoughts.</p> + +<p>But in the course of their next few interviews there came a change in +her behavior. The simplicity and unconsciousness of her sorrow had +become complicated with some other feeling. He caught her looking at him +narrowly once or twice, and when he looked hard at her there was visible +in her manner a soft agitation—something which in a girl of more +sanguine complexion might have been interpreted as a blush. She +sometimes suffered herself to be coaxed a little way into talking of +things remote from the subject of her sorrow. Occasionally she +questioned Putnam shyly about himself, and he needed but slight +encouragement to wax confidential. She listened quietly to his +experiences, and even smiled now and then at something that he said. His +heart beat high with triumph: he fancied that he was leading her slowly +up out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death.</p> + +<p>But the upward path was a steep one. She had many sudden relapses and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[Pg 492]</a></span> +changes of mood. Putnam divined that she felt her grief loosening its +tight hold on her and slipping away, and that she clung to it as a +consecrated thing with a morbid fear of losing it altogether. There were +days when her demeanor betokened a passionate self-reproach, as though +she accused herself secretly of wronging her brother and profaning his +tomb in allowing more cheerful thoughts to blunt the edge of her +bereavement. He remarked also that her eyes were often red from weeping. +There sometimes mingled with her remorse a plain resentment toward +himself. At such times she would hardly speak to him, and the slightest +gayety or even cheerfulness on his part was received as downright +heartlessness. He made a practice, therefore, of withdrawing at once +whenever he found her in this frame of mind.</p> + +<p>One day they had been sitting long together. She had appeared unusually +content, but had spoken little. The struggle in her heart had perhaps +worn itself out for the present, and she had yielded to the warm current +of life and hope which was bearing her back into the sunshine. Suddenly +the elderly woman who had formed one of the company in the summer-house +on the day of the thunderstorm passed along the walk with her trowel and +watering-pot. She nodded to Miss Pinckney, and then, pausing opposite +the pair, glanced sharply from one to the other, smiled significantly +and passed on. This trifling incident aroused Putnam's companion from +her reverie: she looked at him with a troubled expression and said, "Do +you think you ought to come here so much?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. How well did you know my brother Henry?"</p> + +<p>"If I didn't know him so very intimately when he was living, I feel that +I know him well now from all that you have told me about him. And, if +you will pardon my saying so, I feel that I know his sister a little +too, and have some title to her acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"You have been very kind, and I am grateful for it, but perhaps you +ought not to come so much."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry if I have come too much," rejoined Putnam bitterly, "but I +shall not come much more. I am going away soon. The doctor says I am not +getting along fast enough and must have change of air. He has ordered me +to the mountains."</p> + +<p>There was silence for a few minutes. He was looking moodily down at the +turf, pulling a blade of grass now and then, biting it and throwing it +away.</p> + +<p>"I thank you very much for your sympathy and kindness," she said at +length, rising from her chair; "and I hope you will recover very fast in +the mountains. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>She extended her hand, which Putnam took and held. It was trembling +perceptibly. "Wait a moment," he said. "Before I go I should like to +show some little mark of respect to your brother's memory. Won't you +meet me at the green-house to-morrow morning—say about nine +o'clock—and select a few flowers? They will be your flowers, you +know—your offering."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, "I will; and I thank you again for him."</p> + +<p>The next morning at the appointed hour Putnam descended the steps into +the green-house. The gardener had just watered the plants. A rich steam +exhaled from the earth and clouded all the glass, and the moist air was +heavy with the breath of heliotropes and roses. A number of butterflies +were flying about, and at the end of a many-colored perspective of +leaves and blossoms Putnam saw Miss Pinckney hovering around a +collection of tropical orchids. The gardener had passed on into an +adjoining hot-house, and no sound broke the quiet but the dripping of +water in a tank of aquatic plants. The fans of the palms and the long +fronds of the tree-ferns hung as still as in some painting of an Indian +isle.</p> + +<p>She greeted him with a smile and held out her hand to him. The beauty of +the morning and of the place had wrought in her a gentle intoxication, +and the mournful nature of her errand was for the moment forgotten. +"Isn't it delicious here?" she exclaimed: "I think I should like to live +in a green-house and grow like a plant."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[Pg 493]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A little of that kind of thing would do you no end of good," he +replied—"a little concentrated sunshine and bright colors and the smell +of the fresh earth, you know. If you were my patient, I would make you +take a course of it. I'd say you wanted more vegetable tissue, and +prescribe a green-house for six months. I've no doubt this man here +would take you. A young-lady apprentice would be quite an attractive +feature. You could pull off dead leaves and strike graceful attitudes, +training up vines, like the gardener's daughter in Tennyson."</p> + +<p>"What are those gorgeous things?" she asked, pointing to a row of +orchids hung on nails along the wall.</p> + +<p>"Those are epiphytic orchids—air-plants, you know: they require no +earth for their roots: they live on the air."</p> + +<p>"Like a chameleon?"</p> + +<p>"Like a chameleon."</p> + +<p>He took down from its nail one of the little wooden slabs, and showed +her the roots coiled about it, with the cluster of bulbs. The flower was +snow-white and shaped like a butterfly. The fringe of the lip was of a +delicate rose-pink, and at the base of it were two spots of rich maroon, +each with a central spot of the most vivid orange. Every color was as +pronounced as though it were the only one.</p> + +<p>"What a daring combination!" she cried. "If a lady should dress in all +those colors she'd be thought vulgar, but somehow it doesn't seem vulgar +in a flower."</p> + +<p>She turned the blossom over and looked at the under side of the petals. +"Those orange spots show right through the leaf," she went on, "as if +they were painted and the paint laid on thick."</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said Putnam, "that what you've just said gives me a good +deal of encouragement?"</p> + +<p>"Encouragement? How?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's the first really feminine thing—At least—no, I don't mean +that. But it makes me think that you are more like other girls."</p> + +<p>His explanation was interrupted by the entrance of the gardener.</p> + +<p>"Will you select some of those orchids, please—if you like them, that +is?" asked Putnam.</p> + +<p>A shade passed over her face. "They are too gay for his—for Henry," she +answered.</p> + +<p>"Try to tolerate a little brightness to-day," he pleaded in a low voice. +"You must dedicate this morning to me: it's the last, you know."</p> + +<p>"I will take a few of them if you wish it, but not this one. I will take +that little white one and that large purple one."</p> + +<p>The gardener reached down the varieties which she pointed out, and they +passed along the alley to select other flowers. She chose a number of +white roses, dark-shaded fuchsias and English violets, and then they +left the place. Her expression had grown thoughtful, though not +precisely sad. They walked slowly up the long shady street leading to +the cemetery.</p> + +<p>"I am dropping some of the flowers," she said, stopping: "will you carry +these double fuchsias a minute, please, while I fasten the others?"</p> + +<p>He took them and laughed. "Now, if this were in a novel," he said, "what +a neat opportunity for me to say, 'May I not <i>always</i> carry your double +fuchsias?'"</p> + +<p>She looked at him quickly, and her brown cheek blushed rosy red, but she +started on without making any reply and walked faster.</p> + +<p>"She takes," he said to himself. But he saw the cemetery-gate at the end +of the street. "I must make this walk last longer," he thought. +Accordingly, he invented several cunning devices to prolong it, stopping +now and then to point out something worth noting in the handsome grounds +which lined the street. And so they sauntered along, she appearing to +have forgotten the speech which had embarrassed her, or at least she did +not resent it. They paused in front of a well-kept lawn, and he drew her +attention to the turf. "It's almost as dark as the evergreens," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, "it's so green that it's almost blue."</p> + +<p>"What do you suppose makes the bees gather round that croquet-stake so?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon they take the bright colors<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[Pg 494]</a></span> on it for flowers," she answered, +with a certain quaintness of fancy which he had often remarked in her.</p> + +<p>As they stood there leaning against the fence a party of school-girls +came along with their satchels and spelling-books. They giggled and +stared as they passed the fence, and one of them, a handsome, +long-legged, bold-faced thing, said aloud, "Oh my! Look at me and my +fancy beau a-takin' a walk!"</p> + +<p>Putnam glanced at his companion, who colored nervously and looked away. +"Saucy little giglets!" he laughed. "Did you hear what she said?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," almost inaudibly.</p> + +<p>"I hope it didn't annoy you?"</p> + +<p>"It was very rude," walking on.</p> + +<p>"Well, I rather like naughty school-girls: they are amusing creatures. +When I was a very small boy I was sent to a girls' school, and I used to +study their ways. They always had crumbs in their apron-pockets; they +used to write on a slate, 'Tommy is a good boy,' and hold it up for me +to see when the teacher wasn't looking; they borrowed my geography at +recess and painted all the pictures vermilion and yellow." He paused, +but she said nothing, and he continued, talking against time, "There was +one piece of chewing-gum in that school which circulated from mouth to +mouth. It had been originally spruce gum, I believe, but it was +masticated beyond recognition: the parent tree wouldn't have known her +child. One day I found it hidden away on a window-sill behind the +shutter. It was flesh-colored and dented all over with the marks of +sharp little teeth. I kept that chewing-gum for a week, and the school +was like a cow that's lost her cud."</p> + +<p>As Putnam completed these reminiscences they entered the cemetery-gate, +and the shadow of its arch seemed to fall across the young girl's soul. +The bashful color had faded from her cheek and the animation from her +eye. Her face wore a troubled expression: she walked slowly and looked +about at the gravestones.</p> + +<p>Putnam stopped talking abruptly, but presently said, "You have not asked +me for your fuchsias."</p> + +<p>She stood still and held out her hand for them.</p> + +<p>"I thought you might be meaning to let me keep them," said Putnam. His +heart beat fast and his voice trembled as he continued: "Perhaps you +thought that what I said a while ago was said in joke, but I mean it in +real earnest."</p> + +<p>"Mean what?" she asked faintly.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know what I mean?" he said, coming nearer and taking her +hand. "Shall I tell you, darling?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't! Oh, I think I know. Not here—not now. Give me the +flowers," she said, disengaging her hand, "and I will put them on +Henry's grave."</p> + +<p>He handed them to her and said, "I won't go on now if it troubles you; +but tell me first—I am going away to-morrow, and sha'n't be back till +October—shall I find you here then, and may I speak then?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be here till winter."</p> + +<p>"And may I speak then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And will you listen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then I can wait."</p> + +<p>They moved on again along the cemetery-walks. Putnam felt an exultation +that he could not suppress. In spite of her language, her face and the +tone of her voice had betrayed her. He knew that she cared for him. But +in the blindness of his joy he failed to notice an increasing agitation +in her manner, which foretold the approach of some painful crisis of +feeling. Her conflicting emotions, long pent up, were now in most +delicate equilibrium. The slightest shock might throw them out of +balance. Putnam's nature, though generous and at bottom sympathetic, +lacked the fineness of insight needed to interpret the situation. Like +many men of robust and heedless temperament, he was more used to bend +others' moods to his own than to enter fully into theirs. His way of +approaching the subject had been unfortunate, beginning as he had with a +jest. The sequel was destined to be still more unlucky.</p> + +<p>They had reached a part of the cemetery which was not divided into lots, +but formed a sort of burial commons for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[Pg 495]</a></span> behoof of the poor. It was +used mainly by Germans, and the graves were principally those of +children. The headstones were wooden, painted white, with inscriptions +in black or gilt lettering. Humble edgings of white pebbles or shells, +partly embedded in the earth, bordered some of the graves: artificial +flowers, tinsel crosses, hearts and other such fantastic decorations lay +upon the mounds. Putnam's companion paused with an expression of pity +before one of these uncouth sepulchres, a little heap of turf which +covered the body of a "span-long babe."</p> + +<p>"Now, isn't that <i>echt Deutsch</i>?" began Putnam, whom the gods had made +mad. "Is that glass affair let into the tombstone a looking-glass or a +portrait of the deceased—like that 'statoot of a deceased infant' that +Holmes tells about? Even our ancestral cherub and willow tree are better +than that, or even the inevitable sick lamb and broken lily."</p> + +<p>"The people are poor," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"They do the same sort of thing when they're rich. It's the national +<i>Geschmack</i> to stick little tawdry fribbles all over the face of +Nature."</p> + +<p>"Poor little baby!" she said gently.</p> + +<p>"It's a rather old baby by this time," rejoined Putnam, pointing out the +date on the wooden slab—"Eighteen fifty-one: it would be older than I +now if it had kept on."</p> + +<p>Her eyes fell upon the inscription, and she read it aloud. "Hier ruht in +Gott Heinrich Frantz, Geb. Mai 13, 1851. Gest. August 4, 1852. Wir +hoffen auf Wiedersehen." She repeated the last words softly over to +herself.</p> + +<p>"Are those white things cobblestones, or what?" continued Putnam +perversely, indicating the border which quaintly encircled the little +mound. "As I live," he exclaimed, "they are door-knobs!" and he poked +one of them out of the ground with the end of his cane.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she cried vehemently: "how can you do that?"</p> + +<p>He dropped his cane and looked at her in wonder. She burst into tears +and turned away. "You think I am a heartless brute?" he cried +remorsefully, hastening after her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, go away, please—go away and leave me alone. I am going to my +brother: I want to be alone."</p> + +<p>She hurried on, and he paused irresolute. "Miss Pinckney!" he called +after her, but she made no response. His instinct, now aroused too late, +told him that he had better leave her alone for the present. So he +picked up his walking-stick and turned reluctantly homeward. He cursed +himself mentally as he retraced the paths along which they had walked +together a few moments before. "I'm a fool," he said to himself: "I've +gone and upset it all. Couldn't I see that she was feeling badly? I +suppose I imagined that I was funny, and she thought I was an insensible +brute. This comes of giving way to my infernal high spirits." At the +same time a shade of resentment mingled with his self-reproaches. "Why +can't she be a little more cheerful and like other girls, and make some +allowance for a fellow?" he asked. "Her brother wasn't everybody else's +brother. It's downright morbid, this obstinate woe of hers. Other people +have lost friends and got over it."</p> + +<p>On the morrow he was to start for the mountains. He visited the cemetery +in the morning, but Miss Pinckney was not there. He did not know her +address, nor could the gatekeeper inform him; and in the afternoon he +set out on his journey with many misgivings.</p> + +<p>It was early October when Putnam returned to the city. He went at once +to the cemetery, but on reaching the grave his heart sank at the sight +of a bunch of withered flowers which must have lain many days upon the +mound. The blossoms were black and the stalks brittle and dry. "Can she +have changed her mind and gone South already?" he asked himself.</p> + +<p>There was a new sexton in the gate-house, who could tell him nothing +about her. He wandered through the grounds, looking for the old woman +with the watering-pot, but the season had grown cold, and she had +probably ceased her gardening operations for the year. He continued his +walk beyond the marshes. The woods<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[Pg 496]</a></span> had grown rusty and the sandy +pastures outside the city were ringing with the incessant creak of +grasshoppers, which rose in clouds under his feet as he brushed through +the thin grass. The blue-curl and the life-everlasting distilled their +pungent aroma in the autumn sunshine. A feeling of change and +forlornness weighed upon his spirit. As with Thomas of Ercildoune, whom +the Queen of Faëry carried away into Eildon Hill, the short period of +his absence seemed seven years long. An old English song came into his +head:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Winter wakeneth all my care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now these leaves waxeth bare:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in cometh into my thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this worldes joy how it goeth all to naught.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Soon after arriving at the hills he had written to Miss Pinckney a long +letter of explanations and avowals; but he did not know the number of +her lodgings, or, oddly enough, even her Christian name, and the letter +had been returned to him unopened. The next month was one of the +unhappiest in Putnam's life. On returning to the city, thoroughly +restored in health, he had opened an office, but he found it impossible +to devote himself quietly to the duties of his profession. He visited +the cemetery at all hours, but without success. He took to wandering +about in remote quarters and back streets of the town, and eyed sharply +every female figure that passed him in the twilight, especially if it +walked quickly or wore a veil. He slept little at night, and grew +restless and irritable. He had never confided this experience even to +his mother: it seemed to him something apart.</p> + +<p>One afternoon toward the middle of November he was returning homeward +weary and dejected from a walk in the suburbs. His way led across an +unenclosed outskirt of the town which served as a common to the poor +people of the neighborhood. It was traversed by a score of footpaths, +and frequented by goats, and by ducks that dabbled in the puddles of +rain-water collected in the hollows. Halfway across this open tract +stood what had formerly been an old-fashioned country-house, now +converted into a soap-boiling establishment. Around this was a clump of +old pine trees, the remnant of a grove which had once flourished in the +sandy soil. There was something in the desolation of the place that +flattered Putnam's mood, and he stopped to take it in. The air was dusk, +but embers of an angry sunset burned low in the west. A cold wind made a +sound in the pine-tops like the beating of surf on a distant shore. A +flock of little winter birds flew suddenly up from the ground into one +of the trees, like a flight of gray leaves whirled up by a gust. As +Putnam turned to look at them he saw, against the strip of sunset along +the horizon, the slim figure of a girl walking rapidly toward the +opposite side of the common. His heart gave a great leap, and he started +after her on a run. At a corner of the open ground the figure vanished, +nor could Putnam decide into which of two or three small streets she had +turned. He ran down one and up another, but met no one except a few +laborers coming home from work, and finally gave up the quest. But this +momentary glimpse produced in him a new excitement. He felt sure that he +had not been mistaken: he knew the swift, graceful step, the slight form +bending in the wind. He fancied that he had even recognized the poise +and shape of the little head. He imagined, too, that he had not been +unobserved, and that she had some reason for avoiding him. For a week or +more he haunted the vicinity of the common, but without result. December +was already drawing to an end when he received the following note:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Putnam</span>: You must forgive me for running away from you +the other evening: I am right—am I not?—in supposing that you +saw and recognized me. It was rude in me not to wait for you, +but I had not courage to talk with any one just then. Perhaps I +should have seen you before at the cemetery—if you still walk +there—but I have been sick and have not been there for a long +time. I was only out for the first time when I saw you last +Friday. My aunt has sent for me, and I am going South in a few +days. I shall leave directions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[Pg 497]</a></span> to have this posted to you as +soon as I am gone.</p> + +<p>"I promised to be here when you came back, and I write this to +thank you for your kind interest in me and to explain why I go +away without seeing you again. I think that I know what you +wanted to ask me that day that we went to the green-house, and +perhaps under happier circumstances I could have given you the +answer which you wished. But I have seen so much sorrow, and I +am of such a gloomy disposition, that I am not fit for cheerful +society, and I know you would regret your choice.</p> + +<p>"I shall think very often and very gratefully of you, and shall +not forget the words on that little German baby's gravestone. +Good-bye.</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Imogen Pinckney</span>."</p></div> + +<p>Putnam felt stunned and benumbed on first reading this letter. Then he +read it over mechanically two or three times. The date was a month old, +but the postmark showed that it had just been mailed. She must have +postponed her departure somewhat after writing it, or the person with +whom it had been left had neglected to post it till now. He felt a +sudden oppression and need of air, and taking his hat left the house. It +was evening, and the first snow of the season lay deep on the ground. +Anger and grief divided his heart. "It's too bad! too bad!" he murmured, +with tears in his eyes: "she might have given me one chance to speak. +She hasn't been fair to me. What's the matter with her, anyhow? She has +brooded and brooded till she is downright melancholy-mad;" and then, +with a revulsion of feeling, "My poor darling girl! Here she has been, +sick and all alone, sitting day after day in that cursed graveyard. I +ought never to have gone to the mountains: I ought to have stayed. I +might have known how it would turn out. Well, it's all over now, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>He had taken, half unconsciously, the direction of the cemetery, and now +found himself at the entrance. The gate was locked, but he climbed over +the wall and waded through the snow to the spot where he had sat with +her so many summer afternoons. The wicker chair was buried out of sight +in a drift. A scarcely-visible undulation in the white level marked the +position of the mound, and the headstone had a snow-cap. The cedars +stood black in the dim moonlight, and the icy coating of their boughs +rattled like candelabra. He stood a few moments near the railing, and +then tore the letter into fragments and threw them on the snow. "There! +good-bye, good-bye!" he said bitterly as the wind carried them skating +away over the crust.</p> + +<p>But what was that? The moon cast a shadow of Henry Pinckney's headstone +on the snow, but what was that other and similar shadow beyond it? +Putnam had been standing edgewise to the slab: he shifted his position +now and saw a second stone and a second mound side by side with the +first. An awful faintness and trembling seized him as he approached it +and bent his head close down to the marble. The jagged shadows of the +cedar-branches played across the surface, but by the uncertain light he +could read the name "Imogen Pinckney," and below it the inscription, +"Wir hoffen auf Wiedersehen."</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Henry A. Beers</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[Pg 498]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="STUDIES_IN_THE_SLUMS" id="STUDIES_IN_THE_SLUMS"></a>STUDIES IN THE SLUMS.</h2> + + +<h3>VI.—JAN OF THE NORTH.</h3> + +<p>"You're wanted at 248, and they said go quick. It's Brita, I shouldn't +wonder. Lord pity her, but it's a wild night to go out! Seems like as if +the Lord would have hard work to find anybody, with the rain an' sleet +pourin' an' drivin' so't you can't see a foot before your face. But He +will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, He will," the doctor's quiet voice answered. "Poor little Brita! I +am glad her trouble is almost over. Will you come? Remember how dreadful +the place is."</p> + +<p>"More so for me than for you?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, for I have been in the midst of such for twenty years, and +among them all have never known a worse den than that in which these +poor souls are stranded. If I could only see a way out for them!"</p> + +<p>The doctor had not been idle as she spoke, and stood ready now in thick +gray waterproof and close bonnet, her face a shade graver than its +always steady, gentle calm. Jerry followed, his badge of deputy sheriff +hastily put on, for the alley was one of the worst in the Fourth Ward, +and, well as she was known through its length and breadth, here the +bravest might shrink from going unattended. Out into the night, the wild +wind and beating rain seeming best accompaniments to the brutal revelry +in the dance-houses and "bucket-shops" all about. Here, one heard the +cracked and discordant sounds from the squeaking fiddles or clarionets +of the dance-music, and there, were shouts and oaths and the crash of +glass as a drunken fight went on, undisturbed by policeman and watched +with only a languid interest by the crowd of heavy drinkers. Up Cherry +street, past staggering men, and women with the indescribable voice that +once heard is never forgotten, all, seemingly regardless of the storm, +laughing aloud or shrieking as a sudden gust whirled them on. Then the +alley, dark and noisome, the tall tenement-houses rising on either side, +a wall of pestilence and misery, shutting in only a little deeper +misery, a little surer pestilence, to be faced as it might be.</p> + +<p>"It's hell on earth," said Jerry as we passed up the stairs, dark and +broken, pausing a moment as the sound of a scuffle and a woman's shrill +scream came from one of the rooms. "Do you wonder there's murder, an' +worse than murder, done in these holes? Oh, what would I give to tumble +them, the whole crop of the devil's own homes, straight into the river!"</p> + +<p>"Hush," the doctor said. "Stay, Jerry, a few minutes. You may be wanted, +but there is not room for all in there."</p> + +<p>As she spoke the door had opened, and a tall, gaunt woman in the +distinctive Swedish dress stood before us and mutely pointed us in. It +was hard to distinguish anything in the dim light of a flickering tallow +candle placed in a corner to screen it from the wind, which whistled +through cracks and forced the rain through the broken roof. On a pile of +rags lay three children, sleeping soundly. By the table sat a heavy +figure, the face bowed and hidden in the arms folded upon it, and on the +wretched bed lay the wasted figure of the girl whose life was passing in +the storm.</p> + +<p>"Poor little Brita!" I said again, for as the doctor bent over her and +took her hand the eyes opened and a faint smile came to the sweet, +child-like face. Long braids of fair hair lay on the pillow, the eyes +were blue and clear, and the face, wearing now the strange gray shadow +of death, held a delicate beauty still, that with health and color would +have made one turn to look at it again wherever encountered. The mother +stood silent and despairing at the foot of the bed. The motionless +figure at the table did not stir. There was no fire or sign of comfort +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[Pg 499]</a></span> the naked room, and but the scantiest of covering on the bed.</p> + +<p>The girl looked up faintly and put out her hand. "Pray," she said in a +whisper—"pray for the mother;" but even as she spoke she gasped, half +rose, then fell back, and was gone, the look of entreaty still in the +eyes. The doctor closed them gently, the poor eyes that would never need +to beg for help any more, and then the mother, still silent, came softly +and touched the girl's face, sinking down then by the side of the bed +and stroking the dead hands as if to bring back life.</p> + +<p>The man had risen too and came slowly to her side. "I thank God she iss +gone away from all trouble," he said, "but oh, my doctor, it iss so +hard!"</p> + +<p>"Hard!" the woman echoed and rose. "I will not hear of God: I hate God. +There iss no God, but only a deffil, who does all he vill. Brita iss +gone, and Lars and little Jan. Now it must be de oders, and den I know +vat you call God vill laugh. He vill say, 'Ah, now I haf dem all. De +fool fader and de fool moder, dey may live.'"</p> + +<p>"Brita! poor Brita!" the man said softly, and added some words in his +own tongue. She pushed him away, then burst into wild weeping and sank +down on the floor.</p> + +<p>"He will be her best comforter," the doctor said. "We will go now, and I +will see them all to-morrow. That money will get the coffin," she added +as she laid a bill on the table and then went softly out, "but the +coffin would not have been needed if help could have come three months +ago."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was some drunken home," I said, "but that man can never +have gone very far wrong. He has a noble head."</p> + +<p>"No, it is only hard times," she answered. "Go again, and you will learn +the whole story, unless you choose to hear it from me."</p> + +<p>"No," I said as we stood under the shelter of the still unfinished +Franklin Square Station on the elevated road, "I will hear it for myself +if I can."</p> + +<p>The time came sooner than I thought. A month later I went up the dark +stairs, whose treacherous places I had learned to know, and found the +room empty of all signs of occupation, though the bed and table still +stood there.</p> + +<p>"They're gone," a voice called from below. "They've come into luck, Pat +says, but I don't know. Anyhow, they turned out o' here yesterday, an' +left the things there for whoever 'd be wantin' 'em."</p> + +<p>"Bad 'cess to the furriner!" said another voice as I passed down. +"Comin' here wid his set-up ways, an' schornin' a bit of dhrink!"</p> + +<p>"An' if ye'd take patthern of him yerself—" the woman's voice began, +and was silenced by a push back into her room and the loud slam of the +door.</p> + +<p>"They have come to better times surely," the janitor said as I asked +their whereabouts at the mission, "an' here's their new number. It's a +quiet, decent place, an' he'll have a better soon."</p> + +<p>After Cherry and Roosevelt and Water streets, Madison street seems +another Fifth Avenue. The old New Yorker knows it as the once stately +and decorous abode of old Dutch families, a few of whom still cling to +the ancient homes, but most of these are now cheap boarding-Pouses and +tenements, while here and there a new genuine tenement-house is +sandwiched between the tiled roofs and dormer-windows which still hold +suggestions of former better days. The more respectable class of +'longshoremen find quarters here, and some of the mission-people, who, +well-to-do enough to seek quieter homes, choose to be as near as +possible to the work waiting for them, and for more like them, in that +nest of evil and outrage and slime, the Fourth Ward.</p> + +<p>Brita's head was bowed on the table as I went in, and Jan's face was +sorrowful as he looked toward her. "It iss not so alvay," he said. "She +hass made it all so good, and now she dinks of Brita, dat vill not see +it, and she say still, 'God iss hard to take her avay.'"</p> + +<p>"How is it, Jan? Did work come all at once?"</p> + +<p>"No, and yet yes. Shall I say it all, my lady?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[Pg 500]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Surely, Jan, if you have time."</p> + +<p>"It iss de last day I vill be here in my home all day," he began, +drawing one of the children between his knees and holding its hands +fondly. "But see on de vall! It iss dat hass done some vork for me."</p> + +<p>I looked to where he pointed. On the wall, near the small looking-glass, +hung a round cap with hanging fox's tail—such a cap as the half-bloods +of our north-western forests wear, and the peasants of the European +North as well.</p> + +<p>Jan smiled as he saw my puzzled look. "It iss vy I say I vill tell it +all," he went on in his grave, steady voice. "Ven I see dat it iss to +see de North. For, see, it vas not alvays I am in de city. No. It iss +true I am many years in Stockholm, but I am not Swede: I am Finn—yes, +true Finn—and know my own tongue vell, and dat iss vat some Finns vill +nefer do. I haf learn to read Swedish, for I must. Our own tongue iss +not for us, but I learn it, and Brita dere, she know it too. Brita iss +of Helsingfors, and I am of de country far out, but I come dere vid fur, +for I hunt many months each year. Den I know Brita, and ve marry, and I +must stay in de city, and I am strong; and first I am porter, but soon +dey know I read and can be drusted, and it iss china dat I must put in +boxes all day, and I know soon how to touch it so as it nefer break.</p> + +<p>"But dere is not money. My Brita iss born, and little Jan, and I dink +alvay, 'I must haf home vere dey may know more;' and all de days it iss +America dat dey say iss home for all, and much money—so much no man can +be hungry, and vork iss for all. Brita iss ready, and soon ve come, and +all de children glad. Yes, dere are six, and good children dat lofe us, +and I say efery day, 'Oh, my God, but you are so good! and my life lofes +you, for so much good I haf.' Brita too iss happy. She vork hard, but ve +do not care, and ve dink, 'Soon ve can rest a little, for it iss not so +hard dere as here;' and ve sail to America.</p> + +<p>"But, my lady, how iss it it vas all so bad? For vork iss <i>not</i>. It iss +true I haf a little in de beginning. It iss three year ago. I know some +English I haf learn in sailing once to England, for de Finns go +eferyvere to sail. I am not helpless so, and I am large and strong, and +soon I go to de many, many china-stores—so many, I say, dat can nefer +be to vant vork—and in one dey take me. But it iss not much money, +dough I dink it so, for it iss alvay de rent—so much, and ve are +strange and dey cheat us. And ven I am troubled most, and dink to ask +for more, den quick it iss dat I haf none. De place iss failed—dat iss +vat iss tell me—and I go home to Brita to say vat shall to do? I could +dig, I vould go far off, but I haf not money; but I say, 'Ven I get +plenty it shall be ve go to vere earth shall gif us to eat, and not +starve us as here.' For soon it iss little to eat, and it iss dat ve +sell clothes and such as ve must. I get vork—a little on de docks. I +unload, and see men dat can steal all day from coffee-bags and much +sugar, and soon time iss come dat ve are hungry, and men say, 'Steal +too. It's hard times, and you <i>haf</i> to steal.'</p> + +<p>"Oh, dere iss one day! It iss here now. My little Jan iss dead, and Carl +so sick, and all dat he must be vidout enough to eat, and my Brita vill +get a dollar and a half a veek to sew—alvays sew and she is pale and +coughs. I pray, 'O God, you know I vill not do wrong, but vat shall I +do? Show me how, for I am afraid.' But it vas all dark. I cannot go +home, for I haf not money. I cannot vork but one, maybe two, times a +veek. And alvays I see my own <i>hungry</i>! I dink I could kill myself; but +dat helps not, and I go avay, oh, eferyvere about New York, and beg for +vork. And den eferyvere it iss said, 'He is a <i>tramp</i>,' and alvays dey +tell me, 'No, ve gif not to <i>tramps</i>. Go to vere you came from.' I say, +'I am not tramps. My children are hungry. Gif me vork: I vant to eat for +dem—not money, but to eat if you vill. Gif me a little vork.'</p> + +<p>"I am dirty: Brita iss not dere to haf me clean. I vash as I can, in +vater anyvere, but I sleep on de ground. I eat not often. I am vild +truly, I know, and soon peoples are afraid. Den, my lady, I haf no more +faith. I say, 'God, you haf forgotten<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[Pg 501]</a></span> me: you haf forgotten vat you +promise. It may be God iss not anyvere.' So I come back, and I find dat +my little Brita iss sick—so sick she cannot vork—and Brita my vife; +she sew all she can, but it iss not enough. I go on de docks once more. +'No vork! no vork!' It iss de vord eferyvere. And one day, all de day +long, ve haf nothing—no fire, nothing to eat, and dere iss no more +anything to pawn, and I say, 'At last I vill steal, for vat else shall +be to do?' And I go out and down to de dock, for I know a boat going out +in de night, and I say, 'I too vill go.' But I go down Vater street. I +know it not much, for first my home iss on de odder side, but ve are so +poor at last ve are in Cherry street, and den vere you see us first. But +den I am just come, and I go by de mission and hear all sing, and I say, +'I vill stay a minute and listen, for soon nefer again shall I sit vid +any dat sing and pray and haf to do vid God.' So I go in, and listen not +much till soon one man stands up, an' he say, 'Friends, I came first +from prison, and I meant not efer to do more vat vould take me dere +again. But dere iss no vork, even ven I look all day, and I am hungry; +and den I dink to steal again. I vait, because perhaps vork come, but at +night I go out and say, "I know my old ground. Dere's plenty ready to +velcome me if I'm a mind to join 'em." And den, as I go, one says to me, +"Come in here;" and I come in and not care, till I hear many tell vat +dey vere, and I say, "I vill vait a leetle longer: I cannot steal now." +And now vork has come, and if God help me I shall never steal again.'</p> + +<p>"I stood up den. I said loud, 'I haf nefer steal. I belief in God, but +now how shall I? My heart's dearest, dey starve, dey die before me. Dere +iss no vork, dere iss no help. If I steal not, how shall I do?' I vas +crying: I could not see. Then Jerry came. 'You shall nefer starve,' he +said. 'Stay honest, for God <i>vill</i> care for you, and ve'll all pray Him +to keep you so.'</p> + +<p>"And so, when meeting iss done, dey go vid me to see, and dere iss food +and all dey can. Dey are God's angels to me and to mine.</p> + +<p>"But, my lady, you know: you haf seen my little Brita. And efery day I +look at her and see her going avay, so fast, so fast, and my heart +breaks, for she is first of all. And den she iss gone, and still vork is +not. You haf seen us. All de days dey say. 'Dere vill come vork soon,' +but it comes not efer. And one morning I look in de chest to see if one +thing may still be to pawn, and dere iss only my cap dat I keep—not to +vear, no, but only to remember. And I sit, and it iss on my hand, and I +hold de fox's tail, and again I am in Finland, and I see de foxes run on +de ice, and I know vell dis one dat I hold de tail. Den quick I haf a +thought. I look for a stick all about: dere iss but a little one for de +fire, and no knife, but I get a knife from a man dat iss at de odder +room, and I cut it and tie it. I vill not tell Brita vat I do, but soon +I haf de tail vid a handle, and I put it inside my coat, and go to a +store vere iss a man I haf seen dat vill make many things, and money +sometimes.</p> + +<p>"'Ha, Jan,' he said ven I show it, 'dis <i>iss</i> a notion! I'll gif you ten +dollar for dat notion.'</p> + +<p>"'No,' I say. 'If you say ten dollar I know it vorth more, for I know +vat you can do. But let it be more, and I may sell it.'</p> + +<p>"Den he talk. Dere is risk, he say, and he must spend much money, but he +say it vill <i>take</i>. Oh, I know dat vord, and ven he has talked so much +at last he say he vill write a paper and gif me one hundred dollar, and +make me a foreman ven he shall make dem. For he says, 'It iss vat all +ladies vill vant—so soft to make clean in de beautiful cabinets, and de +china on de vall so as dey hang it in great houses. Vid its handle for +stiffness, den de soft tail vill go eferyvere and nefer break. It iss a +duster, and best of all duster too, for nothing can efer break.'</p> + +<p>"So now he hass rooms—dree rooms—and many people are to take dem, and +to-morrow I go to show how one must hold all de tails, and dere is vork, +all I can do; and ven money iss come I dink to go avay, but not soon, +for I must help<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[Pg 502]</a></span> some dat haf no help. But oh, I dink of de little ones, +and of Brita dat iss gone; and de moder she cannot haf rest, for all day +she say, 'Vy must it be dey are gone, ven now iss plenty?'—'My God, it +iss your vill. And not fery long, and you vill make us a home vid her.' +It iss all right, my lady."</p> + +<p>Jan lingers still in his last quarters. The mission holds him fast, and +his grave, steady face is known to many a poor wretch just out of +prison—many a tramp who has returned despairing of work and been helped +to it by this man, himself a workman, but with a sympathy never failing +for any sad soul struggling toward a better life or lost in the despair +of waiting. Their name is legion, and their rescue must come from just +such workers—men who have suffered and know its meaning. Men of this +stamp hold the key to a regeneration of the masses, such as organized +charities are powerless to effect; and already some who believe in this +fact are seeking to make their work easier and to give the substantial +aid that it demands. The poor are the best missionaries to the poor, and +he who has gone hungry, suffered every pang of poverty and known +sharpest temptation to sin can best speak words that will save men and +women entering on the same path.</p> + +<p>To this end Jan lives—as truly a priest to the people as if hands laid +upon him had consecrated him to the work, but all unconscious what power +it holds to the on-lookers, and only sure of the one word, the mission +watchword—"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, +ye have done it unto Me."</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Helen Campbell</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="UNDER_THE_GRASSES" id="UNDER_THE_GRASSES"></a>UNDER THE GRASSES.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What do you hide, O grasses! say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among your tangles green and high?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Warm-hearted violets for May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rocking daisies for July."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What burden do you keep beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Your knotted green, that none may see?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The prophecy of life and death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hint, a touch, a mystery."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What hope and passion should I find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I should pierce your meshes through?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A clover blossoming in the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wandering harebell budded blue."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"><span class="smcap">Dora Read Goodale</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[Pg 503]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="KITTY" id="KITTY"></a>"KITTY."</h2> + + +<p>The Idler was hopelessly becalmed off Thomas's Point. Not a ripple could +be seen down the Chesapeake, and the locusts and pines along the shore +were shuddering uncomfortably with the heat of a July afternoon, hidden +halfway to their tops in the summer haze. What was to be done? Five +miles from home in a large sloop yacht filled with strangers from the +North, the crew left behind to be out of the way, and every one +thoroughly convinced that his neighbor was horribly bored!</p> + +<p>Thornton gave the tiller a vicious shove, as if that would wake the +yacht up, and glared forward along the row of parasols protecting fair +faces from the sun and of hats cocked over noses that were screwed up +with feelings too deep for words, and more intense than those produced +by heat, he thought. By five o'clock we had sung every song that ever +was written, and flirtations were becoming desperate. Mollie Brogden, +comfortably lodged against the mast, was dropping her blue parasol lower +and lower over one of the New York men as their conversation grew more +and more intense with the heat, and Mrs. Brogden was becoming really +alarmed.</p> + +<p>The situation was maddening! Nothing on board to eat; soft-shell crabs +and the best bill of fare of a Southern kitchen ordered at home for +seven o'clock; a couple of fiddlers coming from "the Swamp" at nine; and +Cousin Susan, the cook, even then promising little Stump Neal "all de +bonyclábá he cu'd stow ef he'd jest friz dis yar cream fo' de new +missis."</p> + +<p>"It is too provoking for anything!" the new missis whispered to +Thornton, as he stopped by his wife's side for an instant and moved on +to consult with some of the married men who were smoking in luxuriant +carelessness forward. Very little consolation he got there. Ellis from +Annapolis said he had known calms last two days, and sundry forcible +remarks were made when it was discovered that the last cigars were then +in our mouths. This was the last straw. Thornton felt furious with every +one, and muttered dark wishes that ante-war power might be restored to +him over the person of Uncle Brian when we got home—if we ever did—as +he reflected that that ancient African had guaranteed a breeze.</p> + +<p>Mollie Brogden smiled lazily at him as Donaldson fanned her slowly, and +waited until Thornton should pass, so that the talk which was leading up +to the inscription of a clever piece of poetry on her fan might be +continued.</p> + +<p>"By the way, Donaldson," as a sudden inspiration seemed to strike +Thornton, "did you ever hear anything more of Kitty after I left you at +Christmas?"</p> + +<p>The sweetness of that piece of poetry on the fan was never revealed. The +blue parasol went up with a jump, and a look assured Donaldson that +certain words had better have been left unsaid that afternoon if "Kitty" +should not be satisfactorily explained. I felt sorry for him, for every +one caught at the idea of something new, and the thought of an +explanation to the whole of that boatload, keen for all sorts of +badinage, would have tempted me overboard, I am sure. However, Donaldson +smiled very composedly, and said he believed the family were still in +Texas, although he had heard nothing more than Thornton already knew of +their history.</p> + +<p>Well, that simply made matters worse: Texas and Kitty were suggestive +enough for anything, and I caught a whisper from Miss Brogden that +seemed to imply that she doubted whether he had really been so +inconsolable for last summer's diversions as he had tried to make her +believe. That settled him, for I knew he had come down to Thornton's +expressly to see her, and he assured us it was a very small story, but +if we cared to hear it perhaps the breeze would come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[Pg 504]</a></span> meanwhile, and he +would try to give the facts exactly as they had come to his knowledge.</p> + +<p>"We were a few hours out from Liverpool," he began, "and the +smoking-room of the Russia was pretty well filled with all sorts of men, +none of whom of course felt much at home yet, but who were gradually +being shaken together by the civilizing influence of tobacco and the +occasional lurches that the cross-chop of the Channel was favoring us +with. I was sitting near the door with a man from Boston whom I found on +board returning from a wedding-trip, and who, I discovered, had taken +orders since leaving Harvard, where I had known him slightly as a +bookish sort of fellow and not very agreeable; but as I was alone and +his wife was quite pretty, I was glad to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Well, we were running over old times, without paying much attention to +the guide-book talk that was being poured out round us, when somebody +laid a hand on my shoulder and one of the most attractive voices I ever +heard asked 'if there was room for a stranger from Texas?' This formal +announcement of himself by a newcomer made a little lull in the +conversation, but my friend made room for him in our corner, and he +quietly enveloped himself in smoke for the rest of the evening.</p> + +<p>"He was not inattentive, though, to the drift of our talk, for when +Hamilton mentioned having been at the Pan-Anglican, and spoke of the +effect such conventions should produce, the Texan's cigar came out of +his mouth and his blue eyes grew deeper in their sockets as he +interrupted us with the remark: 'The conventions of all the Bible-men in +the world would not have made La Junta any better if it had not been for +Kitty. You know what Junta was before she came?' he continued, seeing us +look a little surprised—'nothing but cards and drink, and—worse; and +now'—and he laid his hand on his hip as if from habit—'now we have no +trouble there any more.'</p> + +<p>"The oddness of the expression 'Bible-men,' I remember, struck me at the +time, but Hamilton made some explanatory reply, for the quiet force of +the soft voice had a certain persuasiveness about it without the aid of +his gesture, although the smoke was so thick that we could not see +whether he carried the instruments of his country or not.</p> + +<p>"Standing by the aft wheel-house, I found the Texan the next morning +throwing biscuits to the gulls and gazing wistfully seaward.</p> + +<p>"'Your first visit to Europe?' I said, steadying myself by the rail.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, but I would give all last year's herd if I had never come, for +Kitty is ill. I have travelled night and day since the telegram reached +me, but La Junta is so far away I am afraid I shall be too late.'</p> + +<p>"I wish I could give you an idea of his manner: it was more like that of +a person who had just learned the language and was afraid of making +mistakes, so hesitated before each word, giving every syllable its full +value. He explained this simply enough afterward—that Kitty had broken +him of swearing by making him think before he spoke."</p> + +<p>"But you haven't told us who Kitty was," interrupted the blue parasol. +"Was she light or dark?"—"his wife?"—"he wouldn't have dared!"—"a +Texan wife?" and Mrs. Brogden looked very grave at the possibilities the +flying questions aroused.</p> + +<p>"No, she wasn't his wife; only the Yankee schoolmistress of La Junta. I +never saw her. She must have been an angel, though, from his +description; so I will leave the details for your acquaintance +hereafter, Miss Brogden;" which outrageous flattery was received with +contemptuous silence.</p> + +<p>"She lived at Junta, and would canter over on Saturdays to Trocalara, +the Texan's ranch, to teach his herdsmen's families. His partner, +Parker, and he had a large cattle-ranch not far from the Mexican +frontier, and Kitty could not have lived on a bed of roses, I fancy. +Raids, stampedes and other border pleasantries were constantly +occurring. I remember we thought him too gentle at first to have really +hailed from the Plains; but one night, when Hamilton remonstrated with a +man who, I believe, had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[Pg 505]</a></span> allowed himself to get in that state described +by the sailors as 'three sheets in the wind, and the fourth fluttering,' +and was met with rather an uncivil reply, the Texan shut the offender up +like a jack-knife with his heavy grip and the intimation that 'he +proposed to settle the Bible-man's scores.'</p> + +<p>"He grew quite intimate with Hamilton and me, and proved a delightful +companion. He would quote readily from many of the later poets, and knew +whole pages of Milton and Shakespeare by heart. Kitty had taught him +these, he said, after she married Parker and came to live with him.</p> + +<p>"'She made us read history-books first,' he said—'many, many +volumes—but we soon got to like them better than anything else. The +poetry <i>she</i> read to us; and so we never went to the shows in Junta +after she came. Kitty has a good husband, as fine a fellow as ever +lassoed a steer, but she is too pure for Junta. Parker loves her, and I +love her too, but both of us do not make up for her Eastern comforts. +And so last year, as we made a good herd and there were no raids to +speak of, I came to New York to get a few luxuries for her. She wrote me +then to go to Paris and see the Exposition; so I went because I thought +she knew best, and that if I had seen the world a little I should be +nearer to her, and it would not be quite so hard for her out there. And +now she is ill, and—I am here!'</p> + +<p>"He turned impatiently away to ask the quartermaster what we were doing +by the last log. The speed appeared to satisfy him, for he sat quietly +down again and told us how it was that Kitty had come to live with them.</p> + +<p>"'For two years, you know'—assuming that we did know—'she spent +Saturdays at Trocalara, teaching our people how to read and write. They +were very rough at first—we all are out there—and did not care much; +but she interested them, and brought picture-books for the little ones, +and by and by she said she would come out on Sunday and we should have +church!' with a triumphant look at Hamilton and his Pan-Anglican +attendance. 'Yes, we had had a priest there before, but he was shot in a +row at Bowler's Paradise, and no one cared to apply for a new one.</p> + +<p>"'Kitty came up to the ranch the first Sunday, and asked us to come with +her. We refused at first, but after a while, when we heard the singing, +we went down to the quarters, and found her sitting under one of the +trees with all the young ones clustered round her; and we waited there +and listened until we began to feel very sorry that we had played so +late at Bowler's the night before.</p> + +<p>"'But Parker had been in luck, and he swore he would get her as fine a +piano as could be brought from the States (he was a half-Mexican by +birth) if she would sing like that for us at the ranch.</p> + +<p>"'She stood up then, with all the young ones looking on in amazement, +the light and shade playing over her through the cool, dark leaves, and, +turning her large gray eyes full on Parker's face, said she would if we +would promise never to go to Bowler's again.</p> + +<p>"'I think Parker expected her to refuse to come altogether, because we +had no women there, and we had heard the people in Junta talking of her +quiet, modest ways. But no, she never thought of herself: she only +thought of the nights at Bowler's, and wanted to save us from the end +she had seen often enough in two years in Junta. At any rate, the piano +came, and Parker had it sent as a sort of halfway measure to her house +in Junta, where she and her mother lived, and we were as welcome as the +light there always.</p> + +<p>"'You have no idea of her music. They told me at concerts in Paris that +I was hearing the finest musicians in Europe, but they were not like +Kitty. They played for our money—Kitty played for our pleasure: it +makes so much difference,' he added as his fingers drummed an +accompaniment to the air he whistled.</p> + +<p>"'One night Parker and I were sitting in a corner at Bowler's when we +heard a Greaser—a Mexican, you know—that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[Pg 506]</a></span> Parker had refused to play +poker with the night before ask who the señorita was that had taken the +spirit out of Parker.</p> + +<p>"'We both started forward instantly, but as the man was evidently +ignorant of our presence, Parker checked me with a fierce look in his +eyes that showed that the spirit of his former days would be very apt to +put a different ending on the conversation if it continued in that tone.</p> + +<p>"'"Kitty," came the reply, as if that settled the matter.</p> + +<p>"'"Kitty? Ah, your American names are so strange! Kitty! But she is +beautiful, is this Kitty! I met her in the Gulch road this afternoon +this side of Trocalara. Caramba! how she can ride! The Parker has good +taste: I drink to my future acquaintance with her."</p> + +<p>"'As he raised the glass to his lips Parker stood behind his chair and +whispered, "If you drink that liquor, by God it will be the last drop +that shall ever pass your lips!"</p> + +<p>"'The next morning they sold the Mexican's horse and traps to pay for +burying him and for the damage done, and Parker lay in bed at Kitty's +with that in his side you would not have cared to see.</p> + +<p>"'Kitty never knew why he fought, and never even looked a reproach. It +was not much—I had seen him cut much worse in the stockyard at +home—but somehow he did not get well. The weeks slipped by, and each +time I called Kitty would say he was a little better, and a little +better, and oh yes, he would be back next week; but next week came so +often without Parker that at last, when the time came for changing +pastures, I went with the herd and left him still at Junta.</p> + +<p>"'I would willingly have taken his place, look you, if I had known the +result, but perhaps the other way was the best, after all; for now Kitty +has two men to serve her,' he added meditatively.</p> + +<p>"'When I got back to Junta in October, Parker was quite recovered, I +found out at the ranch, but was in town that evening, so I went quietly +into Kitty's house to surprise them. As I crossed the hall I heard +Parker's voice. Could I have mistaken the house? was it really his voice +I heard? Yes: he was telling Kitty how he had broken the three-year-old +colt to side-saddle, so when she came to Trocalara she must give up her +old pony. I knew then why Kitty had kept him there so long: he had lost +his reason and she wished to keep me from knowing it!</p> + +<p>"'But no. I stood still and listened, and heard him tell her how he had +always loved her, apparently going over an old story to her. My God! I +would as soon have told the Virgin I loved her! And then I heard her +voice. "When I am your wife—" she began.</p> + +<p>"'It all flashed on me in an instant then. I slipped noiselessly out, +and if they heard "Odd Trick's" gallop on the turf it was not because +his hoofs lingered too long there.</p> + +<p>"'I can't remember how I passed that night. The revelation had been so +sudden that the words seemed to be written in my heart and to be carried +through every vein with each beat. "When I am your wife—" What would +the result be? <i>Our</i> Kitty was to be his wife? Could I still stay at the +ranch? "When I am your wife—" and I loved her!</p> + +<p>"'The next day I went into Junta and saw them both. I told Parker how +the herd stood, and how the shooting had been in the mountains, but I +never had the courage to look at her.</p> + +<p>"'After a while she went to the piano and played "Home:" then she came +and sat down by me and said, "I have told Parker I will go home with +him: I will try to be a sister to you."</p> + +<p>"'I believe I only stared at her, and then wrung Parker's hand and went +out.</p> + +<p>"'He married her the next month, and—and—Trocalara has been heaven +ever since.</p> + +<p>"'I never knew what a Christian was before she came: you know we have no +faith in Texas in things we can't draw a bead on. But when she read me +the story of the Scribes and Pharisees and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[Pg 507]</a></span> Christ I felt ashamed to be +like those Flat-heads and Greasers in the New Testament who did not +believe in him; and now I feel sure of knowing some one in heaven, for +Kitty has promised to find me there.'</p> + +<p>"I forget a great many of the incidents he told us," Donaldson went on +in the quiet that was almost equal to the calm around us; "and I dare +say it would bore you to listen. But he certainly was the most +extraordinary man I ever met. I can't do justice to his expressions, for +they lack his soft voice and curious hesitation. I wish we had him here, +though."</p> + +<p>"Did you never hear of him again?" some one asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. When we reached New York I found him standing in his old place by +the aft wheel-house in a dazed sort of way, with apparently no intention +of going ashore; so I asked him what hotel he intended to stop at. His +only answer was to hand me a letter dated some days before:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="right">"'<span class="smcap">Junta</span>, Texas.</p> + + +<p>"'Kitty died last night. It is a boy, and is named after +you—her last wish.</p> + +<p class="right">"'<span class="smcap">Parker</span>.'</p></div> + +<p>That was all the letter said, but as I looked at his white face and +burning eyes I saw it was what he had feared.</p> + +<p>"As I bade him good-night at the hotel that evening he asked me, 'Do you +really feel sure that I could find her—there?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes: she said so, did she not?' I replied.</p> + +<p>"'I will try,' he said simply.</p> + +<p>"The next morning they found him with a bullet-hole in his temple. He +had gone to find Kitty."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Heads!" said Thornton as the boom swung over and the swirl from the +Idler's bow told us the wind had come. As I changed my place I caught +Miss Brogden's eye, and felt satisfied that Donaldson was forgiven.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lawrence Buckley</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_GREAT_SINGER" id="A_GREAT_SINGER"></a>A GREAT SINGER.</h2> + + +<p>There are so few of them! The next generation will hardly understand how +great were some of the lately-vanished kings and queens of the lyric +drama. We who have passed middle age, who have heard Lablache, and +Tamberlik, and Jenny Lind, and Viardot Garcia, and Alboni, and Giuglini +in their prime, and Grisi, Mario, Sontag and Persiani with voices but a +little the worse for wear, can sadly contrast the vocal glories of the +past with those of the present. Who are the great singers of to-day? Two +or three <i>prime donne</i> and as many baritones. There is not a single +basso living to suggest Lablache, not a tenor to revive the triumphs of +Rubini, Mario, Giuglini or the subject of the present article.</p> + +<p>Gustave Roger, the celebrated French tenor, who so long reigned a king +at the Grand Opéra of Paris, was a born Parisian. He was of gentle +blood, his uncle being Baron Roger, who was a member of the Chamber of +Deputies in the days of Louis Philippe. He was born in 1815, and was +originally destined for the legal profession. But the boy's destiny was +the stage. It is on record that, being sent to a provincial town where +there was no theatre to complete his studies, he got up a representation +on his own account, playing the principal <i>rôles</i> in three comedies. The +notary in whose office he had been placed was present on the occasion, +and warmly applauded the young actor, but the next day sent his +refractory pupil back to Paris. Finally, Roger's relatives decided that +his vocation for the stage was stronger than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[Pg 508]</a></span> their powers of combating +it, and they placed him at the Conservatoire. He remained there for one +year only, at the end of which time he carried off two first prizes—one +for singing and the other for declamation.</p> + +<p>And here a curious fact must be remarked. Side by side with the great +lyric or dramatic celebrities that have won their first renown at the +<i>concours</i> of the Conservatoire there is always some other pupil of +immense promise, who does as well as, if not better than, the future +star at the moment of the competition, but who afterward disappears into +the mists of mediocrity or of oblivion. Thus, in the year in which the +elder Coquelin obtained his prize the public loudly protested against +the award of the jury, declaring that the most gifted pupil of the class +was a certain M. Malard, who now holds a third-rate position on the +boards of the Gymnase. When Delaunay, the accomplished leading actor of +the Comédie Française, left the Conservatoire, it was with a second +prize only: the first was carried off by M. Blaisot, who now plays the +"second old men" at the Gymnase. So with Roger as first prize was +associated one Flavio Ping, a tall, handsome young man with a superb +voice. So far as physical advantages were concerned, he was better +fitted for a theatrical career than was the future creator of John of +Leyden, as Roger was not tall and had a tendency to embonpoint. M. Ping, +however, went to Italy, accepted engagements at the opera-houses of +Rome, Naples and Milan, sang there with success for a few years, lost +his voice, and finally disappeared.</p> + +<p>In 1838, Roger made his début at the Opéra Comique in <i>L'Éclair</i>, by +Auber. His success was immediate and complete. He remained at that +theatre for some years, his favorite character being George Brown in <i>La +Dame Blanche</i>. But his greatest triumphs at this period were those which +awaited him in the great opera-houses of London, where he sang the +leading tenor rôles in the operas of Bellini and Donizetti. In his +recently-published diary he gives some interesting details respecting +Jenny Lind, then at the height of her fame and the very zenith of her +powers. His first impression, after hearing her in <i>Norma</i>, was one of +disappointment. It was in June, 1847. The great tenor thus records his +impressions of the great prima donna: "She is well enough in Casta +Diva—that invocation to the moon suits her dreamy Teutonic nature—but +the fury of the loving woman, the deserted mother—No, no! a thousand +times no!" But the next season he goes to hear her in <i>Lucia</i>, and at +once the verdict is reversed. "She is one of the greatest artists it has +ever been my lot to hear," he writes. "Her voice, though charming in the +upper notes, is unfortunately a little weak in the middle register; but +what intelligence and invention! She imitates no one, she studies +unceasingly, both the dramatic situation and the musical phrase, and her +ornamentation is of a novelty and elegance that reconcile me to that +style of execution. I do not love roulades, I must confess, though I may +learn to do so later. Jenny Lind does one thing admirably: during the +malediction, instead of clinging to her lover as all the other Lucias +never fail to do till the act is ended, as soon as Edgar throws her from +him she remains motionless: she is a statue. A livid smile contracts her +features, her haggard eyes are fixed on the table where she signed the +fatal contract, and when the curtain falls one sees that madness has +already seized upon her."</p> + +<p>During this season in London, Roger, while singing at the Ancient +Concerts, saw in the audience one evening the duke of Wellington, and +thus writes of the event: "I had Wellington before me. I heard the voice +that commanded the troops at Waterloo. I looked into the eyes that saw +the back of the emperor. I cannot express the rage that seized upon me +at beholding him. To sing to and give pleasure to that man whom I would +fain annihilate!—him, and his past, and his country! As a Frenchman I +hate him, but I am forced also to admire him."</p> + +<p>The next year Roger, while fulfilling an engagement in London, was +requested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[Pg 509]</a></span> to sing at a garden-fête given, under the patronage of the +queen, at Fulham, for the benefit of the poor. After the concert Roger, +leaning against an acacia, was watching the departure of the royal +carriages. "Lavandy came to me," he writes, "and said in a whisper, 'Do +you know who is at the other side of this tree?'</p> + +<p>"'No.'</p> + +<p>"I turned round, and saw a man with an aquiline nose and blue eyes, +whose deep yet gloomy gaze was fixed upon the splendors of royalty. 'Who +is it?' I asked of Lavandy.</p> + +<p>"'Louis Bonaparte.'</p> + +<p>"He had just been elected member of the Chamber of Deputies. As his name +appeared to be dangerous, he had been requested to take a vacation, and +he had returned to London, where he had formerly lived. I am glad that I +saw him: he may be somebody some day."</p> + +<p>It was in April of the previous year (1847) that Roger went to a +concert, where he records how he heard a comic opera called <i>The +Alcove</i>, by Offenbach and Déforges: "A little inexperience, but some +charming things. Offenbach is a fellow who will go far if the doors of +the Opéra Comique are not closed against him: he has the gift of melody +and the perseverance of a demon." It is rather curious to note, in +connection with this prophecy, that the doors of the Opéra Comique, +which were closed against Offenbach after the failure of his <i>Vert-Vert</i> +some years before the war, are to be reopened to him next season, his +<i>Contes de Hoffman</i> having proved the "Open, sesame!" to those +long-barred portals.</p> + +<p>But to return to Roger's reminiscences of Jenny Lind, which are, after +all, the most interesting for music-loving readers. We find him writing +in July, 1848: "I have again been to see Jenny Lind in <i>Lucia</i>. She is +indeed a great, a sublime artist, in whom are united inspiration and +industry."</p> + +<p>It was during this season that he concluded an engagement with the +English impresario Mitchell to become the tenor of the travelling +opera-troupe in which Jenny Lind was to be the prima donna, and which +was to undertake a tour through Scotland, Ireland and the provincial +towns of England. "I am delighted," he writes: "I shall now be able to +study near at hand this singular woman, whom Paris has never possessed, +but whose reputation, fostered at first in Germany under the auspices of +Meyerbeer, has attained in England such proportions that upon her +arrival in a certain city the bells were rung and the archbishop went +out to meet her and to invite her to his house. She is a noble-hearted +creature, and her munificence is royal: she founds hospitals and +colleges. In her blue eyes glows the flame of genius. Deprived of her +voice, she would still be a remarkable woman. Believing in herself, she +is full of daring, and achieves great things because she never troubles +herself about the critics. She lives the life of a saint: one would say +that she imagines herself sent by God to make the happiness of humanity +by the religion of art. Thus she remains cold and chaste in private +life, never permitting her heart to become inflamed by the ardent +passions wherewith she glows upon the stage. She told me that she could +never comprehend the lapse from virtue of Mademoiselle R——, a woman of +such lofty talent: 'To fail thus in what was due to one's self!'"</p> + +<p>It is pleasing to note how Roger's admiration for this great artist +extinguishes all the usual petty jealousy of a fellow-singer. He writes +thus frankly respecting a concert which they gave during their tour at +Birmingham: "It was a brilliant success, but the final triumph was borne +off by Jenny Lind, who fairly carried the audience away with her Swedish +melodies, the effect of which is really remarkable. She has a strength +of voice in the upper notes that is vast and surprising: without +screaming she produces echoes, the loud and soft notes being almost +simultaneous. In the artist's green-room she is kind and courteous +without being either mirthful or expansive. Moreover, she is +indefatigable, which is a precious quality for the manager. She never +stays at the same hotel with the rest of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[Pg 510]</a></span> the troupe, which is a rather +imperial proceeding; but it is better so: we are more at our ease. She +lives her own concentrated life like some old wine that never sees the +light excepting on great occasions. I have at last found in Jenny Lind a +partner who understands me. On the stage she becomes animated; her hands +clasp mine with energy, and the thrill of dramatic fervor possesses her +whole being: she becomes thoroughly identified with her part, and yet +she never permits herself to be so carried away as to cease to be +entirely mistress of her voice."</p> + +<p>Roger gives us some brief glimpses of Jenny Lind in private life—her +love of dancing, of which she seems to have been as passionately fond as +was Fanny Kemble in her youth, and her delight in horseback riding. He +gives a comical account of an improvised ball, in which he figured as +the prima donna's partner, on board of the steamboat going from Dublin +to Holyhead: "Unfortunately, our orchestra fell off one by one; the +music finally ceased; and when we stopped waltzing and cast an uneasy +glance around us, we beheld all our musicians, their chests pressed +against the railings, their arms extended toward the ocean, in the +pitiable attitude of Punch when knocked down by the policeman." Some +days later, during a performance of <i>La Fille du Regiment</i> at Brighton, +in the last act, while the orchestra was playing the prelude to the +final rondo, "Jenny Lind said to me in a whisper, 'Listen well to this +song, Roger, for these are the last notes of mine that you will hear in +any theatre.'"</p> + +<p>The next day a farewell ball, to which a supper succeeded, was given by +the manager at the Bedford Hotel to celebrate the conclusion and +brilliant success of the tour: "That dear Jenny drew from her finger a +ring set with a diamond of the finest water, and presented it to me with +the words, 'May every sparkle of this stone, Roger, recall to you one of +my wishes for your happiness!' In this phrase there was all the woman +and a tinge of the Swede."</p> + +<p>The next day he takes a final ride with the prima donna and Madame +Lablache. "I was very sad," he writes: "the idea of ending this happy +day has spoiled my pleasure. How well she looks on horseback, with her +great blue eyes and her loosened fair hair! And why does she quit the +stage? Is she tired of doing good? As long as she has been an artist she +has lived the life of a saint. They tell me of a bishop who has put +certain scruples into her head. May Heaven be his judge!</p> + +<p>"I know that in Paris people say, 'Why does she not come here to +consecrate her reputation? She is afraid, doubtless, of comparisons and +recollections.' No, no! she has nothing to fear. She preserves in her +heart of hearts, doubtless, some resentment for the indifference—to +call it no more—wherewith the last manager of the Opéra received her +advances for a hearing when her fresh young talent had just left the +hands of Manuel Garcia. But since then Meyerbeer has composed operas for +her; Germany, Sweden, England have set the seal upon her reputation: we +can add nothing to it. As to homage, what could we give her? Wherever +she goes, as soon as she arrives in a city its chief personages hasten +to meet her; when she leaves the theatre five or six hundred persons +await her exit with lighted torches; every leaf that falls from her +laurel-wreaths is quarrelled over; crowds escort her to her hotel; and +serenades are organized under her windows. At Paris, when once the +curtain falls the emotion is over, the artist no longer exists. A +serenade! Who ever saw such a thing outside of the <i>Barber of Seville?</i> +It is in bad taste to do anything singular. As to escorting a prima +donna home, Malibran could find her way alone very well."</p> + +<p>Roger returned to Paris, recording as he did so the fact that he was by +no means overjoyed at finding himself at home: "And why? I cannot tell. +Perhaps I regret the life of excitement, those great theatres, the +audiences that changed every day, the struggle of the singer with new +<i>partitions</i>, the boundless admiration I experienced for that strange +being, that compound of goodness and coldness, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[Pg 511]</a></span> egotism and +benevolence, whom one might not perhaps love, but whom it is impossible +to forget."</p> + +<p>The next prominent event in the great tenor's career was his creation of +the character of John of Leyden in Meyerbeer's <i>Prophète</i>. There is +something very charming in the naïve delight and enthusiasm with which +he speaks of this, the crowning glory of his life. Contrary to the usual +theory respecting the production of a great dramatic effect, he declares +that the grand scene between the prophet and Fides in the third act, +where John of Leyden, by the sheer force of intonation of voice and play +of feature, forces his mother to retract her recognition of him and to +fall at his feet, was created, so to speak, by Madame Viardot and +himself on the inspiration of the moment and without any preliminary +conference or arrangement. How wonderful this fine dramatic situation +appeared when interpreted by these two great artists, I, who had the +delight of seeing them both, can well remember. To this day it forms one +of the great traditions of the French lyric stage.</p> + +<p>In the month of July, 1859, just ten years after that crowning triumph, +Roger one day, being then at his country-seat, took his gun and went out +to shoot pheasants: an hour later he was brought I back to the house +with his right arm horribly shattered by the accidental discharge of his +gun. His first action after having the wound dressed was to sing. "My +voice is all right," he remarked to his wife: "there is no harm done." +Unfortunately, the bones were so shattered that amputation was judged +necessary. That accident brought Roger's operatic career to a close. +Notwithstanding the perfection of the mechanical arm that replaced the +missing limb, he was oppressed by the consciousness of a physical +defect. He imagined that the public ridiculed him, and that the critics +only spared him out of pity. He retired from the stage, and devoted +himself to teaching, his amiable character and great artistic renown +gaining him hosts of pupils. In the autumn of 1879 the kindly, blameless +life came to a close.</p> + +<p>A devoted husband, a generous and unselfish comrade in his profession +even to his immediate rivals, and a true and faithful friend, he left +behind him a record that shows a singular blending of simple domestic +virtues with great artistic qualities, the union adorning a theatrical +career which was one series of dazzling triumphs.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Lucy H. Hooper.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP" id="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP"></a>OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</h2> + + +<h3>CONSERVATORY LIFE IN BOSTON.</h3> + +<p>Our aspiring young friend from the rural districts who comes to Boston, +the great musical centre, for the art-training she cannot enjoy at home, +is full of enthusiasm as she crosses the threshold of that teeming hive, +the New England Conservatory of Music. The conflicting din of organs, +pianos and violins, of ballad, scale and operetta, though discordant to +the actual ear have a harmony which is not lost to her spiritual sense. +It is a choral greeting to the new recruit, who gathers in a moment all +the moral support humanity derives from sympathy and companionship in a +common purpose. Devoutly praying that this inspiration may not ooze out +at her fingers' ends, she goes into the director's sanctum to be +examined. This trial has pictured itself to her active imagination for +weeks past. Of course he will ask her to play one of her pieces, perhaps +several. Has she not, ever since her plans for coming to the +Conservatory were matured, been engaged in carefully<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[Pg 512]</a></span> training, +manipulating, her battle-horse for this critical experiment? As the door +of that little room closes upon her her knees begin to tremble. But how +easy and reassuring is the director's manner! He requests her to be +seated at the piano. Will she be able to remember a note at all? That is +now the question. Her musical memory is for the nonce obliterated. He +may have an intuition of this, for he says quietly, "Now play me a scale +and a five-finger exercise." Cecilia does this mechanically, and feels +encouraged. Now for the piece, the battle-horse, to be brought out and +shown off. She waits quietly a minute. But he asks for nothing more. Her +mere touch expresses to his practised ear her probable grade of +acquirement, and he assigns her to the instructor he deems best suited +to test her abilities and classify her in accordance with them.</p> + +<p>In a day or two she finds herself in regular working order, one of a +class of four. "And am I only to have fifteen minutes for <i>my</i> lesson," +she asks herself, "when I always had an hour from the professor at +Woodville?" She knows that recitation is the cream of the lesson. In the +actual rendering of her task she can, in justice to her companions, +consume but a quarter of the allotted hour, but she soon discovers that +she is to a great extent a participant in Misses A——, B—— and +C——'s cream. After the master's correction of her own performance, to +see and hear the same study played by others with more or less +excellence—to compare their faults with her own—is perhaps of greater +benefit to her, while in this eminently receptive frame, than a mere +personal repetition would be. The horizon is broader: she gets more +light on the work in hand.</p> + +<p>"And now," she asks of her teacher, "how much would you advise, how much +do you wish, me to practise?"</p> + +<p>He smiles: memory reverts to his own six hours at Leipsic or Stuttgart, +but "milk for babes:" "Certainly not less than two hours a day under any +circumstances or obstacles, if you care to learn at all. If you have +fair health, and neither onerous household duties nor educational +demands upon your time outside of music, let me earnestly recommend you +to practise four hours. Less than this cannot show the desired result."</p> + +<p>The new pupil accepts the maximum of four hours' daily practice. "I +should be ashamed to give less," she generously confides to herself and +her room-mate: "it is but a small proportion, after all, of the +twenty-four."</p> + +<p>But this is not all. There are exercises at the Conservatory apart from +her special lessons which are too valuable to a broad musical education +to be neglected—the instruction in harmony, sight reading, the art of +teaching, analyses of compositions, as well as lectures and concerts. +One of the Conservatory exercises strikes her as being alike novel and +edifying. This is called "Questions and Answers." A box in one of the +halls receives anonymous questions from the pupils from day to day, and +once a week a professor of the requisite enlightenment to satisfy the +miscellaneous curiosity of six or seven hundred minds devotes a full +hour to the purpose. These questions are presumed to relate solely to +musical topics, and the custom was instituted for the relief of timid +yet earnest inquirers. A motley crew, however, frequently avail +themselves of the masquerade privilege to steal in uninvited. Cecilia +illustrates these fantastic ramifications of the young idea for the +benefit of friends in the interior. She jots down some of these +questions and their answers in her note-book:</p> + +<p>"How does a polka differ from a schottisch?"—"A schottisch is a lazy +polka. A polka is the worst thing in the world: the next worst is a +schottisch. A schottisch is so lazy, so slow, that a fire would hardly +kindle with it."</p> + +<p>"In preparing to play a piece in public should one practise it up to the +last moment?"—"Try it and see: you will soon decide in the negative. +Lay it aside some time before if you would avoid nervousness."</p> + +<p>"What would you give as a first piano-lesson to a young lady who had +never taken a lesson before?"—"Make her get the piano-stool at exactly +the right height<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[Pg 513]</a></span> and place: then ensure a good position of her hands +and easy motion of the fingers. Let her practise this for three days."</p> + +<p>"How far advanced ought a person to be in music to begin to +teach?"—"Teaching involves three things: first, a knowledge of +something on the part of the teacher; second, a corresponding ignorance +on the part of the learner; third, the ability to impart this knowledge. +These conditions fulfilled might sometimes allow a person to begin to +teach with advantage at a very early age and with a very moderate range +of acquirements, though, as every instructor knows, his earlier methods +were very different from his later ones. The difficulty with young +teachers in general is that they try to teach too much at once, like the +young minister who preached all he knew in his first sermon. Never +introduce more than two principles in any one lesson, and as a rule but +one."</p> + +<p>"Is a mazourka as bad as a polka?"—"No. I think it is not morally so +bad as a polka: it has somewhat the grace of the waltz."</p> + +<p>"Who is the best music-teacher in Boston?"—"As there are twenty-five +hundred persons teaching music in and about this city, and seventy-five +regular teachers at this Conservatory alone, both ignorance and delicacy +on my part should forbid a definite reply. It were well to remember +Paris, the apple of discord and the Trojan war."</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. A—— (a young professor at the Conservatory, voted attractive +by the feminine pupils in general) married?"—"This being Leap Year, a +personal investigation of the subject might be more satisfactory and +effectual than a public decision of this point."</p> + +<p>At the expiration of her first term Cecilia realizes that her condition +is one of constant growth: quickening influences are in the air. She +came to Boston to learn music: she is also learning life. She perceives, +moreover, that in her musical progress the æsthetic part of her nature +has not been permitted to keep in advance of technique. Heretofore she +was ever gratifying herself and her friends by undertaking new and more +elaborate pieces, not one of which ever became other than a mere +superficial possession. Now her taste is inexorably commanded to wait +for her muscles: the discipline has been useful to her. After a few more +such winters she will return to Woodville a teacher, herself become a +quickening influence to others. Musical thought will be truer, will find +a more adequate expression, in her vicinity. She will act as a +reflector, sending forth rays of light into dark corners farther than +she can follow them.</p> + +<p>And this is the motive, the mission, of the conservatory system in this +country, inasmuch as organized is more potent than individual effort to +elevate our national taste, to prepare the way for the future artist, +that he may be born under the right conditions, his divine gift fostered +and directed to become worthy of its exalted destiny. Already centuries +old in Europe, the conservatory is a young thing of comparatively +limited experience on our soil. It was introduced here twenty-five years +ago by Eben Tourjée. He had longed and vainly sought for the advantages +to perfect his own talent, and resolved while a mere boy that those of +like tastes who came after him should not have to contend with the +obstacles he had fought—that instruction should be brought within the +reach of all by a college of music similar to those in Europe, embracing +the best elements, attaining the most satisfactory results at the least +possible cost to the student. This project, for a youth without capital, +dependent upon his abilities for his personal support, was regarded even +by sympathetic friends as visionary. But nothing progressive is accepted +as a mere optimistic vision by the predestined reformer. Remote Huguenot +and immediate Yankee ancestry is perhaps a good combination for pioneer +material. However this may be, his efforts were crystallized, shaped, +sooner than most schemes of such magnitude. Continuing his classes in +piano, organ and voice for a year or two with successful energy, Mr. +Tourjée found in 1859 the desired opportunity for his experiment. The +principal of a seminary in East Greenwich, Rhode Island, accorded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[Pg 514]</a></span> him +the use of his building, and more students presented themselves +ultimately than could be accommodated on the grounds of the institution. +After a visit to Europe for the purpose of examining the celebrated +German, French and Italian schools, Mr. Tourjée returned, and, fired +with new zeal, started in 1864 a chartered conservatory at Providence. +This proved eminently successful. But Boston was the ideal site: talent +gravitates toward large cities, and Boston's acknowledged "love of the +first rate" would be the best surety for a lofty standard and +approximate fulfilment. In 1867, under a charter from the State, he +finally transplanted his school to this metropolis under the name of the +New England Conservatory of Music, which it retains to the present date. +It has, with characteristic American rapidity, become the largest +music-school in the world, having within fifteen years instructed over +twenty thousand pupils: in a single term it frequently numbers between +eight and nine hundred. It has a connection with Boston University, the +only one in the country where music is placed on the same basis with +other intellectual pursuits, and the faculty numbers some of the most +renowned artists and composers in the land. Eben Tourjée was appointed +dean of the College of Music in the University, with the title of Mus. +Doctor.</p> + +<p>The New England Conservatory deserves this special mention as the parent +school in America, and it has been promptly and ably followed by the +establishment of others in most of our large cities.</p> + + +<p class="right">F. D.</p> + +<h3>CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE IN THE WEST OF IRELAND.</h3> + +<p>[The following extract from a private letter just received from Ireland +gives a glimpse of the state of affairs in that country which may +interest our readers, as indicating, better than any mere partisan +statements or newspaper reports, the solid grounds that exist for +apprehension in regard to impending disturbances:]</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I have just returned from a tour in the west of Ireland, and I +wish I could describe the horrors I have seen—such abject +misery and such demoralization as you, no doubt, never came in +contact with in your life. The scenery of Connemara beats +Killarney in beauty and the Rhine in extent and magnificence, +but no tourist could face the hotels: the dirt, the +incompetence, the abominableness of every kind are awful. As +these people were two hundred years ago, so they are +now—ignorant, squalid savages, half naked, living on potatoes +such as a Yankee pig would scorn, speaking only their barbarous +native tongue, lying and thieving through terror and want, with +their children growing up in hopeless squalor. Very few savages +lead such lives, while few people are so oppressed and harassed +by the pains and penalties of civilization. For they are +chin-deep in debt. I saw promissory notes five and six times +renewed, with the landlord, away on the Continent, threatening +eviction. The selfishness of the landlords is too revolting. +They live in England or on the Continent, and confine their +duties in life to giving receipts for their rent. Imagine the +whole product of the land, in a country destitute of +manufactures and commerce, remitted to England, and the utmost +farthing of rent exacted from these wretches, no matter what +the season is, a valuation of fifty shillings, for example, +paying a rent of seven pounds—three hundred per cent.! Some +great catastrophe is imminent. Not a gun is left in the +gunsmiths' shops in Dublin, and I am told that shiploads are +brought in from America weekly. The people are perfectly right +in resisting eviction, but Parliament ought to interpose. We +must get rid of the landlords, and we must establish compulsory +education. Then the priests will go like smoke before the wind. +Free trade is another cause of the troubles. That is one of the +most specious humbugs extant, and has ruined the Irish farmers. +It may be all right in principle, but now and here it is simply +mischievous. Professor ——, who is a member of the new Land +Commission, went round with me in Connemara, and implored me to +write up the state of the district; but before anything<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[Pg 515]</a></span> can be +published and reach the English ear the autumn rent-day will +have come, and the gale will be at its height."</p></div> + + +<h3>HIGH JINKS ON THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI.</h3> + +<h4><i>To the Editor of Lippincott's Magazine:</i></h4> + +<p>It is a remarkable historical fact that the latest visitor to the Upper +Mississippi has always felt it his duty to assail the good faith of +every previous traveller. Beltrami (1823) attacked Pike (1806); +Schoolcraft (1832) fleshed his pen in Beltrami; Allen, who accompanied +Schoolcraft, afterward became his enemy and branded him as a +geographical quack; Nicollet (1836) arraigned both Schoolcraft and Allen +for incompetency; and so on. And now, at this late day, in a mild way +tradition repeats itself. Your great original geographer, Mr. Siegfried, +concluded his two essays on the "High Mississippi" by saying, "Beyond +reasonable doubt our party is the only one that ever pushed its way by +boat up the entire course of the farthermost Mississippi. Beyond any +question ours were the first wooden boats that ever traversed these +waters." Then, after a slap at poor Schoolcraft, he declares that +although I claimed the entire trip in my canoe five years ago, my guide +and others told him that my Dolly Varden never was above Brainerd, and +<i>that my portages above were frequent</i>. Except that, by implication, he +questions my veracity, I would not have taken any notice of the feat on +which he prides himself. To the general reader the word "Brainerd" +conveys no idea further than the one which the author adroitly tries to +convey (without saying so), that I did not travel the entire Upper +Mississippi: his use of the word "High" is another trick to cover a very +small job, as I shall hereafter show. But the fact is, that Mr. +Siegfried has discovered a mare's nest. By stating one fact which has +never been disguised, and repeating an allegation which is absolutely +false, he would dispose utterly of the very trip that made his journey +so easy of accomplishment.</p> + +<p>I laid out for myself just one task and no more: I started in May, 1872, +for the sources of the Mississippi, thence to descend the entire river. +After days of inquiry and two trips over the Northern Pacific Railroad, +I decided upon a route to Itasca Lake which no white man had ever +traversed. I made an entirely successful journey, marking out the White +Earth route so clearly that any child could follow it thereafter. What +feat is there to go over ground which I described so explicitly as +follows?—First stage, to White Earth; second stage, to the Twin Lakes; +third stage, across the prairie to the Wild Rice River; fourth stage, up +that stream to the Lake of the Spirit Isle; and fifth stage, of half a +day, by the Ah-she-wa-wa-see-ta-gen portage, to the Mississippi, at a +point twenty-six miles north of Itasca. The same afternoon and the +following day, energetically employed, will suffice to put anybody at +the sources of "the Father of Rivers." Anybody could take a tissue-paper +boat to Itasca after 1872. Had I had a predecessor over this route to +Itasca, as Mr. Siegfried had, and could I have travelled as he did with +a roll of newspaper letters telling me where to stop and when, how to go +and where, I should have been the first to acknowledge my indebtedness +to the man who showed me the way. Why did not Mr. S. take Nicollet's or +Schoolcraft's route, or seek a new one? Simply for the reason that my +itinerary was so clearly laid down that the journey became merely a +Cook's excursion. I had built and took with me to Minnesota a paper boat +for the descent of the river, but I have never made any secret of the +fact that I bought another one (a twin in name and fitted with the +appliances of the New York craft) for the tramp of seventy miles through +the wilderness from the railroad to the sources. In this I merely +followed the example frequently set by Mr. MacGregor, who is the father +of canoeing, and the advice of George A. Morrison, government +storekeeper at White Earth, the Hon. Dr. Day, United States Indian +commissioner, and other gentlemen of equal prominence. Neither of these +gentlemen had been over the ground, but they represented the country as +awful in the extreme. I acquainted everybody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[Pg 516]</a></span> who asked with my +decision, and, were it desirable to involve others in this matter, could +name fifty persons to whom every detail of this initial stage of my trip +has been explained. Not a particle of accurate information regarding the +road, the number of days required or the distance could be obtained. It +was not possible <i>then</i> to contract for forty-one dollars to be landed +on the Mississippi! Mr. Siegfried might have seen at every +camping-ground and meal-station along the route the blazed trees bearing +the deeply-cut Greek "delta," which seven years' precedence cannot have +effaced. His descriptions and mine are identical throughout: therefore, +he has either not been over the course at all (which I do not insinuate) +or he only proves the accuracy of my reports. He disposes of my fourteen +hundred and seventy-one miles of canoeing on the Mississippi because, +forsooth! I did not make a small part of it in a craft to suit his +liking. He claims that his was the first wooden boat that ever pushed up +to Itasca. This is something that I don't know anything about: several +parties have been there since 1832. What will he do with the claimant of +the first sheet-iron boat?</p> + +<p>Mr. Siegfried's allegation that I made frequent portages is grossly and +maliciously false. That honor belongs to him, as a few facts will show. +In giving the guide as his authority he is most illogical, for in his +first article (on three separate pages) he wholly discredits this same +man. Again, some information: there are five portages above Aitkin, as +follows: first, into the western gulf of Lake Cass, saving six miles; +second, Little Winnipeg Lake into a stream leading to the Ball Club Lake +(missing the great tributary Leech Lake River); third, at White Oak +Point, below the Eagle's Nest Savannah; fourth, Pokegama Falls, a carry +of two hundred yards on the left bank (a necessity); and fifth, a +cut-off above Swan River, saving six miles. This last was the only +portage (except the falls) made by my party, and was availed of to reach +good camping-ground before dark. Indeed, as to portaging I must yield +the palm to my vainglorious successor. Behold his record! He jumped +twenty-six miles in the Ball Club Lake portage, and was still unhappy +because he could not ride from the landing below Pokegama to Aitkin (one +hundred and fifty miles; see p. 288) on the small steamboat that +sometimes runs to the lumber-camp. Reaching Muddy River (now Aitkin), in +the language of a free pass, he boarded "the splendid railway" +for—Minneapolis!—thus again skipping two hundred and forty-four miles +of the river at one bound, and escaping the French Rapids, Little Falls, +Pike, Wautab and Sauk Rapids, while I was foolish enough to paddle down +to Anoka (as near as I cared to go to St. Anthony's Falls). Thence I +portaged to Minnehaha Creek, as he did—another strange +coincidence—whence, by daily stages, I descended to Alton, seven +hundred and seventy-five miles, where I took steamer for St. Louis, New +Orleans, and, finally, New York. Mr. Siegfried, on the contrary, in a +distance of six hundred and ninety-six miles from the sources to St. +Anthony (Nicollet's official measurement; see <i>U. S. Senate Doc. 237</i>, +Twenty-sixth Congress, 2d Session, Appendix), jumped exactly two hundred +and sixty miles, or about two-fifths of his whole journey! Some of that +water, too, which he so conveniently escaped is very unpleasant, even +dangerous, especially Pike Rapids, into which I was drawn unawares, and +had to run through at considerable risk to my boat.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I am, sir, yours,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">J. Chambers</span>,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>The Crew of the Dolly Varden.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"><span class="smcap">Philadelphia</span>, August 21, 1880.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>FATE OF AN OLD COMPANION OF NAPOLEON III.</h3> + +<p><i>L'Indépendant</i>, published at Boulogne, gives some interesting details +about a personage that played an important rôle in the history of the +last emperor of the French, and has not had much cause to be proud of +the gratitude of his patron. This personage was the famous tame eagle +that accompanied Prince Louis in his ridiculous expedition to Boulogne, +and which was taught to swoop down upon the head of the pretender—a +glorious<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[Pg 517]</a></span> omen to those who did not know that the attraction was a piece +of salted pork! This unfortunate eagle was captured at the same time as +his master, but while the latter was shut up at Ham, the eagle was sent +to the slaughter-house at Boulogne, where he lived many years—an +improvement in his fate, says <i>L'Indépendant</i>, since his diet of salt +pork was replaced by one of fresh meat. In 1855, Napoleon III. went to +Boulogne to review the troops destined for the Crimea and to receive the +queen of England. While there some one in his suite spoke to him of this +bird, telling him that it was alive and where it was to be found. But +the emperor refused to see his old companion, or even grant him a +life-pension in the Paris Jardin des Plantes. The old eagle ended his +days in the slaughter-house, and to-day he figures, artistically +<i>taxidermatized</i>, in one of the glass cases of the museum of +Boulogne—immortal as his master, despite the reverses of fortune.</p> + + +<h3>A NATURAL BAROMETER.</h3> + +<p>Everybody has admired the delicate and ingenious work of the spider, +everybody has watched her movements as she spins her wonderful web, but +all do not know that she is the most reliable weather-prophet in the +world. Before a wind-storm she shortens the threads that suspend her +web, and leaves them in this state as long as the weather remains +unsettled. When she lengthens these threads count on fine weather, and +in proportion to their length will be its duration. When a spider rests +inactive it is a sign of rain: if she works during a rain, be sure it +will soon clear up and remain clear for some time. The spider, it is +said, changes her web every twenty-four hours, and the part of the day +she chooses to do this is always significant. If it occurs a little +before sunset, the night will be fine and clear. Hence the old French +proverb: "Araignée du soir, espoir."</p> + + +<p class="right">M. H.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY" id="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY"></a>LITERATURE OF THE DAY.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>L'Art: revue hebdomadaire illustrée. Sixième année, Tome II. +New York: J. W. Bouton.</p></div> + +<p>Nowhere but in Paris could the resources, the technical knowledge and +perfect command of all the appliances of bookmaking be found to sustain +such a publication as <i>L'Art</i>. In six years it has not abated by one +tittle the perfection with which it first burst upon the world. Its +standard is as high, its subjects are as inexhaustible, as ever. We hear +now and then of a decline in French art: the great artists who carried +it to the high-water mark of modern times have all, or nearly all, +passed away, but there is certainly no sign of a vacuum. The activity of +production is as great as ever, the interest in art as vital. <i>L'Art</i> +draws its material from past as well as present; the work of older +artists is kept alive in its pages by the most perfect reproductions; +and in its special department of black and white there is advancement +rather than decline. The importance of such a publication to the +interests of art throughout the world is incalculable. It absorbs the +best thought and production of the day. Its high standard and breadth of +scope render it impossible for any particular clique to predominate in +its pages, while its independent tone and encouragement of individual +talent make it a powerful counteracting influence to the conventionalism +which forms the chief danger to art in a country where technical rules +have become official laws. In fact, <i>L'Art</i> has constituted itself a +government of the opposition. It has its Prix de Florence for the +education in Italy of promising young sculptors—its galleries in the +Avenue de l'Opéra, which are used for the purpose of "independent" +exhibitions or for the display of work by one or another artist. It +examines and reports the progress of art all over the world, rousing the +latent Parisian curiosity as to the achievements of foreign<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[Pg 518]</a></span> artists, +and, what is of more importance (to us at least), it shows the world +what is being done and said and thought in the art-circles of Paris. The +perusal of its comprehensive index alone will give the reader a clear +outline of the state of art in Russia, Japan, Persia and Algeria, as +well as in the better-known countries. Such a work is not for the +delight of one people alone: it comes home to art-lovers everywhere.</p> + +<p>The principal art-event of last spring was the Demidoff sale. About half +the etchings in the volume before us are reproductions of pictures in +that collection. M. Flameng has forgotten all the perplexities and +intricacies of the nineteenth century to render the placid graciousness +of a beauty whose portrait was painted in the eighteenth by Drouais. M. +Trimolet has etched in a Dutch manner a landscape of Hobbema in the +Louvre, but M. Gaucherel translates a Ruysdael from the Demidoff +collection into an exquisite delicacy and airiness of line which is the +language of etching in its most modern expression. A Demidoff Rembrandt, +a Lucrezia, reproduced by the needle of M. Kœpping, is an example of +the naïveté of an art which gave itself no thought for archæology. +Lucrezia is a simple Dutch maiden in the full-sleeved, straight-bodied +Flemish costume. Her innocent, childish face tells of real grief, but +not of a tragic history. It is interesting to compare the type with that +of Raphael's Lucrezia, with its clinging classic drapery and countenance +moulded on that of a tragic mask.</p> + +<p>The most striking etching in this volume is that of M. Edm. Ramus, after +a portrait in this year's Salon. The name of the painter, Van der Bos, +is Flemish, but if his picture had any qualities not distinctively +French the genius of the etcher has swept them away. The conception, the +character, the pose would all pass for a work of the most advanced +French school. Its qualities belong to Paris and to-day. A young woman +of a somewhat hard, positive type, neither beautiful nor intellectual, +but <i>chic</i> to her finger-tips, jauntily dressed—hat with curling +feathers, elbow sleeves, long gloves—standing in an erect and +completely unaffected attitude,—that is the subject. The execution is +simply superb. Every line is strong and effective: the modelling, the +poise of the figure and the breadth of the shadows in dry point, are +masterly. The Salon articles, five in number, are from the pen of M. Ph. +Burty, the most radical, incisive and original writer on the +staff—champion of the Impressionists, bitter enemy of the Academics and +warm admirer of any fresh, sincere and individual talent. In his short +review of the work of American artists in the Salon his sympathies are +frankly with those who have ranged themselves under unofficial +leadership in their adopted city. He has warm eulogy both for Mr. +Sargent and Mr. Picknell, refusing to believe that the excellence of the +latter is due in any way to his instruction at the École des Beaux-Arts. +M. Burty concludes the notice of American pictures with a "Hurrah pour +la jeune école Américaine! hurrah!" which will be gratefully responded +to by those of us who are proud of our growing school.</p> + +<p>The "Silhouettes d'Artistes contemporains" are continued in two papers +on De Nittis, accompanied by some exquisite reproductions of etchings by +that artist; and there are a couple of articles of great interest by M. +Véron on Ribot, illustrated by fac-similes of the powerful work of one +whom M. Véron unhesitatingly ranks among the greatest names in modern +French art. There is both literary and artistic interest in the +engravings after pen-and-ink sketches made by Victor Hugo, showing that +the poet is able to throw his personality and wonderful imagination into +an art which he did not practise till pretty late in life, and then +simply as a recreation and without attempting to master its technique. +Victor Hugo is stamped as plainly upon these drawings—made, not by line +and rule, but by following up the ideas suggested by the direction of a +blot of ink—as on the pages of his most deliberate works. In offering +homage to the poet <i>L'Art</i> does not depart from its line, which embraces +art in its manifold forms. The newest products of the stage are +discussed as well as those of the studios, and contemporary literature +is reflected in more ways than one in its pages.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Mrs. Beauchamp Brown. (Second No-Name Series.) Boston: Roberts +Brothers.</p></div> + +<p>Were this story as good as its name or half as good as some of the +undeniably clever things it contains, it might be accepted as a very +fair book of its kind. It was written with the evident intention of +saying brilliant and witty things; but this brilliance and wit sometimes +miss their effect, as, for instance, on the very first page,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[Pg 519]</a></span> where Dick +Steele's famous compliment is bestowed upon Lady Mary Wortley Montagu +instead of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings. We might mention other thwarted +attempts, which give much the same jar to our sensibilities as when some +one thinks to afford us pleasure by singing a favorite air out of tune. +The facility with which the characters are transported from the ends of +the earth to meet at a place called Plum Island surpasses any trick in +legerdemain. Unless we had read it here we should never have believed +that life on the coast of Maine could be so exciting, so cosmopolitan in +its scope, so thrilling in its incidents. There is a jumble of +notabilities—leaders of Boston and Washington society, a Jesuit Father, +an English peer, a brilliant diplomatist on the point of setting out on +a foreign mission, a Circe the magic of whose voice and eyes is +responsible for most of the mischief which goes on, Anglican priests, a +college professor, collegiates, at least one raving maniac, beautiful +young girls and representative Yankee men and women. From this company, +most of whom conduct themselves in manner which fails to prepossess us, +Mrs. Beauchamp Brown alone emerges with a distinct identity. Her zealous +adherence to herself, her unconsciousness of weakness or defect even in +the most rashly-chosen part, are good points. The writer allows her to +express herself without too elaborate canvassing of her character and +motives. When the Fifth Avenue Hotel is burning the great lady is amazed +at such behavior, and shrieks peremptory orders to have the fire put out +<i>immediately</i>. When she reaches Plum Island, and is transferred from the +steamboat to the skiff which is to carry her ashore, she is "angrily +scared at the seething waters and the grinning rocks."</p> + +<p>"'Man! this thing is full of water: my feet are almost in it!' shrieked +Mrs. Beauchamp Brown as the gundalow lurched and heaved shoreward.</p> + +<p>"The White man looked over his shoulder, and slowly wrinkled his +leathern cheeks into an encouraging smile. 'Like ter near killed a +woggin,' replied he sententiously. 'Will be ashore in a brace of +shakes.'"</p> + +<p>The Yankees are all capitally done, and the "local color" is excellent. +There is not much to be said for the other characters in the book. +Margaret, who is supposed to be irresistible, raises surprise if not +disgust. Her conversation is crude and infelicitous, her conduct +excessively ill-bred. Indeed, for a company of so-called elegant people, +the talk and doings are singularly bald and crude. Even the Jesuit +Father seems to have a dull perception about nice points of good +behavior, and we have a doubt which amounts to an active suspicion as to +the reality of the writer's experience of Jesuitical casuistry and +social wiles. Certainly, Father Williams fails to make us understand how +his order could have ever been considered dangerous. It seems a pity +that the author should have tried such a wide survey of human nature. +Her talent does not carry her into melodrama, to say nothing of tragedy, +but there are many evidences in her book of very fair powers in the way +of light comedy.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Studies in German Literature. By Bayard Taylor. With an +Introduction by George H. Boker.—Critical Essays and Literary +Notes. By Bayard Taylor. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons.</p></div> + +<p>It would be impossible to name a better representative of American men +of letters, if there be such a class, than the late Bayard Taylor. We +have a few writers, easily counted, who are distinctively poets, +novelists or essayists; but the common ambition is to unite these titles +and add a few others—to enjoy, in fact, a free range over the whole +field of literature, exclusive only of the most arid or least attractive +portions. Taylor's versatility exceeded that of all his competitors: he +attempted a greater variety of tasks than any of them, and he failed in +none. And his writings, while so diverse, have a distinct and pervading +flavor. Though he travelled so extensively, imbibed so deeply of foreign +literature, and wrote so much on foreign themes, his tone of thought and +sentiment not only remained thoroughly American, but was always +suggestive of his early life and surroundings, his quiet Pennsylvania +home and its sober influences. His pictures of these are not the least +noteworthy portion of what he has given to the world, but in all his +productions the same spirit is visible—not flashing and impulsive, but +habituated to just conceptions and exact performance; not to be startled +or dazed by novelties, but capable of measuring and assimilating +whatever best suited it. On the whole, his nature, while retaining its +individuality and poise, was rather a highly receptive than a strongly +original one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[Pg 520]</a></span> Its growth was a steady accretion of knowledge, ideas, +experiences and aptitudes, without the exhibition of that power +which in minds of a rarer order reacts upon impressions with +a transforming influence. There is more appearance of freedom, of +spontaneousness—paradoxical as this may seem—in his translation of +<i>Faust</i> than in any of his other performances, while deliberate, +conscientious workmanship is a leading characteristic of all, not +excepting the short notices of books reprinted from the New York +<i>Tribune</i> in one of the volumes now before us. The matter of both these +volumes is chiefly critical, and the characterizations of men as well as +of books are always discriminating, generally just, often happily +expressed, but seldom vivid. The articles on Rückert, Thackeray and +Weimar, which deal chiefly with personal reminiscences, are especially +pleasant reading; but the lectures on Goethe, however well they may have +served their immediate purpose, contain little that called for +preservation, being neither profound nor stimulating. While, however, +these volumes may add nothing to their author's reputation, they are no +unworthy memorials of a laborious, well-spent and happy life, of a +nature as kindly as it was earnest and sincere, and of talents that had +neither been buried nor misapplied. We find in a short paper on Lord +Houghton the remark that "there is an important difference between the +impression which a man makes who has avowedly done the utmost of which +he is capable, and that which springs from the exercise of genuine gifts +not so stimulated to their highest development." It cannot be doubted +that the former description is that which would apply to Taylor himself, +and probably with more force than to almost any of his contemporaries.</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The American Art Review, Nos. 8 and 9. Boston: Estes & Lauriat.</p></div> + +<p>These two numbers of the <i>Art Review</i> contain some critical writing of a +really high order in a couple of papers by Mrs. M. G. Van Rensselaer, +entitled "Artist and Amateur." They present an earnest plea for the +pursuit of culture for its own sake in this country. Taking "culture" in +the true sense of the word, as the opening and development of all the +faculties, a positive and electric not a negative and apathetic force, +Mrs. Van Rensselaer points out that it is not the natural birthright of +a select few, but is to be won by none without hard endeavor. The +endeavor, the intelligence and, to a certain extent, the desire for +culture, already exist here, but are constantly misapplied, and this, as +Mrs. Van Rensselaer aims to prove, through a misconception of the +relative positions of artist and amateur. All instruction is directed +toward execution, which is the artist's province, instead of +understanding and appreciation, which are the gifts of culture. The +effort to make the execution keep pace with the teaching confines the +latter, for the majority of learners, to the lowest mechanical rules, +leaving intellectual cultivation altogether to artists. Mrs. Van +Rensselaer argues that the time and money spent by young ladies of +slender talent in learning to paint pottery would, if given to study of +the principles of technique and of the history and aims of art, leave +them with more trained perceptions, an intelligent delight in works of +art and a wider intellectual range. She does not confine the application +of her ideas to painting, but extends it to other arts, making the aim +in music the substitution of appreciative listeners for mediocre +performers. Another interesting article, which the two numbers before us +divide between them, is one on Elihu Vedder by Mr. W. H. Bishop. It does +not force any very definite conclusions upon the reader, but it gives +him some idea of the career of this much talked-of painter, and is +finely illustrated with an etching of <i>The Sea-Serpent</i> by Mr. Shoff, an +unusually strong full-page engraving of <i>The Sleeping Girl</i> by Mr. +Linton, and a very tender and beautiful little cut by Mr. Kruell of <i>The +Venetian Model</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Books_Received" id="Books_Received"></a><i>Books Received.</i></h2> + + +<p>The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By Edward +Gibbon. With Notes by Dean Milman, M. Guizot and Dr. William Smith. 6 +vols. New York: Harper & Brothers.</p> + +<p>Health and Healthy Homes. By George Wilson, M. A., M. D. With Notes and +Additions by J. G. Richardson, M. D. Philadelphia: Presley Blakiston.</p> + +<p>A Model Superintendent: A Sketch of the Life, Character and Methods of +Work of Henry P. Haven. By H. Clay Trumbull. New York: Harper & +Brothers.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Lecoq. From the French of Émile Gaboriau. Boston: Estes & +Lauriat.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular +Literature and Science, Vol. 26, October, 1880, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + +***** This file should be named 29395-h.htm or 29395-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/9/29395/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 26, October, 1880 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 13, 2009 [EBook #29395] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + + + + + + + +LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE + +OF + +_POPULAR LITERATURE AND SCIENCE._ + +OCTOBER, 1880. + +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by J. B. +LIPPINCOTT & CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at +Washington. + + + + +A CHAPTER OF AMERICAN EXPLORATION. + + +[Illustration: GLEN CANON.] + +Those adventurous gentlemen who derive exhilaration from peril, and +extract febrifuge for the high pressure of a too exuberant constitution +from the difficulties of the Alps, cannot find such peaks as the +Aiguille Verte and the Matterhorn, with their friable and precipitous +cliffs, among the Rocky Mountains. The geological processes have been +gentler in evolving the latter than the former, and in the proper season +summits not less elevated nor less splendid or comprehensive than that +of the Matterhorn, upon which so many lives have been defiantly wasted, +may be attained without any great degree of danger or fatigue. All but +the apex may often be reached in the saddle. The _bergschrund_ with its +fragile lip of ice, the _crevasse_ with its treacherous bridges, and the +_avalanche_ which an ill-timed footstep starts with overwhelming havoc, +do not threaten the explorer of the Western mountains; and ordinarily he +passes from height to height--from the base with its wreaths of +evergreens to the zone where vegetation is limited to the gnarled +dwarf-pine, from the foot-hills to the basin of the crisp alpine lake +far above the life-limits--without once having to scale a cliff, +supposing, of course, that he has chosen the best path. The trail may be +narrow at times, with nothing between it and a gulf, and it may be +pitched at an angle that compels the use of "all-fours;" but with +patience and discretion the ultimate peak is conquered without +rope-ladder or ice-axe, and the vastness of the world below, gray and +cold at some hours, and at others lighted with a splendor which words +cannot transcribe, is revealed to the adventurer as satisfaction for his +toil. + +But, though what may be called the pure mountain-peaks do not entail the +same perils and difficulties as the members of the Alpine Club discover +in Italy, France, Switzerland and Germany, the volcanic cones and +canon-walls of the West have an unstable verticality which, when it is +not absolutely insurmountable, is more difficult than the top of the +Matterhorn itself; and though the various expeditions under Wheeler, +Powell, King and Hayden have not had Aiguilles Vertes to oppose them, +they have been confronted by obstacles which could only be overcome by +as much courage as certain of the clubmen have required in their most +celebrated exploits. Indeed, nothing in the journals of the Alpine Club +compares in the interest of the narrative or the peril of the +undertaking with Major Powell's exploration of the canons of the +Colorado, which, though its history has become familiar to many readers +through the official report, gathers significance in contrast with all +other Western expeditions, and stands out as an achievement of +extraordinary daring. + +The Colorado is formed by the junction of the Grand and Green Rivers. +The Grand has its source in the Rocky Mountains five or six miles west +of Long's Peak, and the Green heads in the Wind River Mountains near +Fremont's Peak. Uniting in the Colorado, they end as turbid floods in +the Gulf of California, a goal which they reach through gorges set deep +in the bosom of the earth and bordered by a region where the mutations +of Nature are in visible process. In all the world there is no other +river like this. The phenomenal in form predominates: the water has +grooved a channel for itself over a mile below the surrounding country, +which is a desert uninhabited and uninhabitable, terraced with long +series of cliffs or _mesa_-fronts, verdureless, voiceless and +unbeautiful. It is a land of soft, crumbling soil and parched rock, dyed +with strange colors and broken into fantastic shapes. Nature is titanic +and mad: the sane and alleviating beauty of fertility is displaced by an +arid and inanimate desolateness, which glows with alien splendor in +evanescent conditions of the atmosphere, but which in those moments when +the sun casts a fatuous light upon it is more oppressive in its +influence upon the observer than when the blaze of high noon exposes all +of its unyielding harshness. To the feeling of desolation which comes +over one in such a region as this a quickened sense and apprehension of +the supernatural are added, and we seem to be invaders of a border-land +between the solid earth and phantasy. Nature is distraught; and so much +has man subordinated and possessed her elsewhere that here, where +existence is defeated by the absolute impossibility of sustenance, a +poignant feeling of her imperfection steals over us and weighs upon the +mind. + +Perhaps no portion of the earth's surface is more irremediably sterile, +none more hopelessly lost to human occupation, and yet, an eminent +geologist has said, it is the wreck of a region once rich and beautiful, +changed and impoverished by the deepening of its draining streams--the +most striking and suggestive example of over-drainage of which we have +any knowledge. Though valueless to the agriculturist, dreaded and +shunned by the emigrant, the miner and the trapper, the Colorado plateau +is a paradise to the geologist, for nowhere else are the secrets of the +earth's structure so fully revealed as here. Winding through it is the +profound chasm within which the river flows from three thousand to six +thousand feet below the general level for five hundred miles in +unimaginable solitude and gloom, and the perpendicular crags and +precipices which imprison the stream exhibit with, unusual clearness the +zoological and physical history of the land. + +[Illustration: SWALLOW CAVE, GREEN RIVER.] + +[Illustration: INDIANS NEAR FLAMING GORGE (SAI-AR AND FAMILY).] + +It was this chasm, with its cliffs of unparalleled magnitude and its +turbulent waters, that Major Powell explored, and no chapter of Western +adventure is more interesting than his experiences. His starting-point +was Green River City, Wyoming Territory, which is now reached from the +East by the Union Pacific Railway. On the second morning out from Omaha +the passengers find themselves whirling through sandy yellowish gullies, +and, having completed their toilettes amid the flying dust, they emerge +at about eight o'clock in a basin of gigantic and abnormal forms, upon +which lie bands of dull gold, pink, orange and vermilion. In some +instances the massive sandstones have curious architectural +resemblances, as if they had been designed and scaled on a +draughting-board, but they have been so oddly worked upon by the +elements, by the attrition of their own disintegrated particles and the +intangible carving of water, that while one block stands out as a castle +embattled on a lofty precipice, another looms up in the quivering air +with a quaint likeness to something neither human nor divine. This is +where the Overland traveller makes his first acquaintance with those +erosions which are a characterizing element of Western scenery. A broad +stream flows easily through the valley, and acquires a vivid emerald hue +from the shales in its bed, whence its name is derived. Under one of +the highest buttes a small town of newish wooden buildings is scattered, +and this is ambitiously designated Green River City, which, if for +nothing else, is memorable to the tourist for the excellence of the +breakfast which the tavern-keeper serves. + +[Illustration: INDIAN LODGE NEAR FLAMING GORGE.] + +But it was from here, on May 28, 1869, that Major Powell started down +the canon on that expedition from which the few miners, stock-raisers +and tradespeople who saw his departure never expected to see him return +alive. His party consisted of nine men--J.C. Sumner and William H. Dunn, +both of whom had been trappers and guides in the Rocky Mountains; +Captain Powell, a veteran of the civil war; Lieutenant Bradley, also of +the army; O. G. Howland, formerly a printer and country editor, who had +become a hunter; Seneca Howland; Frank Goodman; Andrew Hall, a Scotch +boy; and "Billy" Hawkins, the cook, who had been a soldier, a teamster +and a trapper. These were carefully selected for their reputed courage +and powers of endurance. The boats in which they travelled were four in +number, and were built upon a model which, as far as possible, combined +strength to resist the rocks with lightness for portages and protection +against the over-wash of the waves. They were divided into three +compartments, oak being the material used in three and pine in the +fourth. The three larger ones were each twenty-one feet long: the other +was sixteen feet long, and was constructed for speed in rowing. +Sufficient food was taken to last ten months, with plenty of ammunition +and tools for building cabins and repairing the boats, besides various +scientific instruments. + +Thus equipped and in single file, the expedition left Green River City +behind and pulled into the shadows of the phenomenal rocks in the early +morning of that May day of 1869. During the first few days they had no +serious mishap: they lost an oar, broke a barometer-tube and +occasionally struck a bar. All around them abounded examples of that +natural architecture which is seen from the passing train at the +"City"--weird statuary, caverns, pinnacles and cliffs, dyed gray and +buff, red and brown, blue and black--all drawn in horizontal strata like +the lines of a painter's brush. Mooring the boats and ascending the +cliffs after making camp, they saw the sun go down over a vast landscape +of glittering rock. The shadows fell in the valleys and gulches, and at +this hour the lights became higher and the depths deeper. The Uintah +Mountains stretched out in the south, thrusting their peaks into the sky +and shining as if ensheathed with silver. The distant pine forests had +the bluish impenetrability of a clear night-sky, and pink clouds floated +in motionless suspense until, with a final burst of splendor, the light +expired. + +At the end of sixty-two miles they reached the mouth of Flaming Gorge, +near which some hunters and Indians are settled. Flaming Gorge is a +canon bounded by perpendicular bluffs, banded with red and yellow to a +height of fifteen hundred feet, and the water flowing through it is a +positive malachite in color, crossed and edged with bars of glistening +white sand. It leads into Red Canon, and in 1869 it was the gateway to a +region which was almost wholly unknown. An old Indian endeavored to +deter Major Powell from his purpose. He held his hands above his head, +with his arms vertical, and, looking between them to the sky, said, +"Rocks h-e-a-p, h-e-a-p high; the water go h-oo-woogh; water-pony (boat) +heap buck. Water catch 'em, no see 'em squaw any more, no see 'em Injin +any more, no see 'em pappoose any more." The prophecy was not +encouraging, and with some anxiety the explorers left the last vestige +of civilization behind them. Below the gorge they ran through Horseshoe +Canon, which describes an elongated letter U in the mountains, and +several portages became necessary. The cliffs increased a thousand feet +in height, and in many places the water completely filled the channel +between them; but occasionally the canon opened into a little park, from +the grassy carpet of which sprang crimson flowers on the stems of +pear-shaped cactus-plants, patches of blue and yellow blossoms, and a +fragrant _Spiraea_. + +As often as a rapid was approached Major Powell stood on the deck of the +leading boat to examine it, and if he could see a clear passage between +the rocks he gave orders to go ahead, but if the channel was barricaded +he signalled the other boats to pull ashore, and landing himself he +walked along the edge of the canon for further examination. If still no +channel could be found, the boats were lowered to the head of the falls +and let down by ropes secured to the stem and stern, or when this was +impracticable both the cargoes and the boats were carried by the men +beyond the point of difficulty. When it was decided to run the rapids +the greatest danger was encountered in the first wave at the foot of the +falls, which gathered higher and higher until it broke. If the boat +struck it the instant after it broke she cut through it, and the men had +all they could do to keep themselves from being washed overboard. If in +going over the falls she was caught by some side-current and borne +against the wave "broadside on," she was capsized--an accident that +happened more than once, without fatal results, however, as the +compartments served as buoys and the men clung to her and were dragged +through the waves until quieter water was reached. Where these rapids +occur the channel is usually narrowed by rocks which have tumbled from +the cliffs or have been washed in by lateral streams; but immediately +above them a bay of smooth water may usually be discovered where a +landing can be made with ease. + +[Illustration: INDIANS GAMBLING.] + +In such a bay Major Powell landed one day, and, seeing one of the rear +boats making for the shore after he had given his signal, he supposed +the others would follow her example, and walked along the side of the +canon-wall to look for the fall of which a loud roar gave some +premonition. But a treacherous eddy carried the boat manned by the two +Howlands and Goodman into the current, and a moment later she +disappeared over the unseen falls. The first fall was not great--not +more than ten or twelve feet--but below the river sweeps down forty or +fifty feet through a channel filled with spiked rocks which break it +into whirlpools and frothy crests. Major Powell scrambled around a crag +just in time to see the boat strike one of these rocks, and, rebounding +from the shock, careen and fill the open compartment with water. The +oars were dashed out of the hands of two of the crew as she swung around +and was carried down the stream with great velocity, and immediately +after she struck another rock amidships, which broke her in two and +threw the men into the water. The larger part of the wreck floated +buoyantly, and seizing it the men supported themselves by it until a few +hundred feet farther down they came to a second fall, filled with huge +boulders, upon which the wreck was dashed to pieces, and the men and the +fragments were again carried out of Major Powell's sight. He struggled +along the scant foothold afforded by the canon-wall, and coming suddenly +to a bend saw one of the men in a whirlpool below a large rock, to which +he was clinging with all possible tenacity. It was Goodman, and a little +farther on was Howland tossed upon a small island, with his brother +stranded upon a rock some distance below. Howland struck out for Goodman +with a pole, by means of which he relieved him from his precarious +position, and very soon the wrecked crew stood together, bruised, shaken +and scared, but not disabled. A swift, dangerous river was on each side +of them and a fall below them. It was now a problem how to release them +from this imprisonment. Sumner volunteered, and in one of the other +boats started out from above the island, and with skilful paddling +landed upon it. Together with the three shipwrecked men he then pushed +up stream until all stood up to their necks in water, when one of them +braced himself against a rock and held the boat while the three others +jumped into her: the man on the rock followed, and all four then pulled +vigorously for the shore, which they reached in safety. Many years +before an adventurous trapper and his party had been wrecked here and +several lives had been lost. Major Powell named the spot Disaster Falls. + +The cliffs are so high that the twilight is perpetual, and the sky seems +like a flat roof pressed across them. As the worn men stretched +themselves out in their blankets they saw a bright star that appeared +to rest on the very verge of the eastern cliff, and then to float from +its resting-place on the rock over the canon. At first it was like a +jewel set on the brink of the cliff, and as it moved out from the rock +they wondered that it did not fall. It did seem to descend in a gentle +curve, and the other stars were apparently in the canon, as if the sky +was spread over the gulf, resting on either wall and swayed down by its +own weight. + +Sixteen days after leaving Green River City the explorers reached the +end of the Canon of Lodore, which is nearly twenty-four miles long. The +walls were never less than two thousand feet high except near the foot. +They are very irregular, standing in perpendicular or overhanging cliffs +here, terraced there, or receding in steep slopes broken by many +side-gulches. The highest point of the wall is twenty-seven hundred +feet, but the peaks a little distance off are a thousand feet higher. +Yellow pines, nut pines, firs and cedars stand in dense forests on the +Uintah Mountains, and clinging to moving rocks they have come down the +walls to the water's edge between Flaming Gorge and Echo Park. The red +sandstones are lichened over, delicate mosses grow in the moist places +and ferns festoon the walls. + +[Illustration: HORSESHOE CANON.] + +A few days later they were upset again, losing oars, guns and +barometers, and on July 18th they had only enough provisions left for +two months, though they had supplied themselves with quantities which, +barring accidents, should have lasted ten months. On July 19th the Grand +Canon of the Colorado became visible, and from an eminence they could +follow its course for miles and catch glimpses of the river. The Green, +down which they had come so far, bears in from the north-west through a +narrow, winding gorge. The Grand comes in from the north-east through a +channel which from the explorer's point of view seems bottomless. Away +to the west are lines of cliffs and ledges of rock, with grotesque forms +intervening. In the east a chain of eruptive mountains is visible, the +slopes covered with pines, the summits coated with snow and the gulches +flanked by great crags. Wherever the men looked there were rocks, deep +gorges in which the rivers were lost under cliffs, towers and pinnacles, +thousands of strangely-carved forms, and mountains blending with the +clouds. They passed the junction of the Grand and Green, and on July +21st they were on the Colorado itself. The walls are nearly vertical, +and the river is broad and swift, but free from rocks and falls. From +the edge of the water to the brink of the cliffs is nearly two thousand +feet, and the cliffs are reflected on the quiet surface until it seems +to the travellers that there is a vast abyss below them. But the +tranquillity is not lasting: a little way below this space of majestic +calm it was necessary to make three portages in succession, the distance +being less than three-quarters of a mile, with a fall of seventy-five +feet. In the evening Major Powell sat upon a rock by the edge of the +river to look at the water and listen to its roar. Heavy shadows settled +in the canon as the sun passed behind the cliffs, and no glint of light +remained on the crags above, but the waves were crested with a white +that seemed luminous. A great fall broke at the foot of a block of +limestone fifty feet high, and rolled back in immense billows. Over the +sunken rocks the flood was heaped up into mounds and even cones. The +tumult was extraordinary. At a point where the rocks were very near the +surface the water was thrown up ten or fifteen feet, and fell back in +gentle curves as in a fountain. + +On August 3d the party traversed a canon of diversified features. The +walls were still vertical in places, especially near the bends, and the +river sweeping round the capes had undermined the cliffs. Sometimes the +rocks overarched: again curious narrow glens were found. The men +explored the glens, in one of which they discovered a natural stairway +several hundred feet high leading to a spring which burst out from an +overhanging cliff among aspens and willows, while along the edges of the +brooklet there were oaks and other rich vegetation. There were also many +side-canons with walls nearer to each other above than below, giving +them the character of grottoes; and there were carved walls, arches, +alcoves and monuments, to all of which the collective name of Glen Canon +was given. + +One morning the surveyors came to a point where the river filled the +entire channel and the walls were sheer to the water's edge. They saw a +fall below, and in order to inspect it they pulled up against one of the +cliffs, in which was a little shelf or crevice a few feet above their +heads. One man stood on the deck of the boat while another climbed over +his shoulders into this insecure foothold, along which they passed until +it became a shelf which was broken by a chasm some yards farther on. +They then returned to the boat and pulled across the stream for some +logs which had lodged on the opposite shore, and with which it was +intended to bridge the gulf. It was no easy work hauling the wood along +the fissure, but with care and patience they accomplished it, and +reached a point in the cliffs from which the falls could be seen. It +seemed practicable to lower the boats over the stormy waters by holding +them with ropes from the cliffs; and this was done successfully, the +incident illustrating how laborious their progress sometimes became. + +The scenery was of unending interest. The rocks were of many +colors--white, gray, pink and purple, with saffron tints. At an elbow of +the river the water has excavated a semicircular chamber which would +hold fifty thousand people, and farther on the cliffs are of +softly-tinted marble lustrously polished by the waves. At one place +Major Powell walked for more than a mile on a marble pavement fretted +with strange devices and embossed with a thousand different patterns. +Through a cleft in the wall the sun shone on this floor, which gleamed +with iridescent beauty. Exploring the cleft, Major Powell found a +succession of pools one above another, and each cold and clear, though +the water of the river was a dull red. Then a bend in the canon +disclosed a massive abutment that seemed to be set with a million +brilliant gems as they approached it, and every one wondered. As they +came closer to it they saw many springs bursting from the rock high +overhead, and the spray in the sunshine forms the gems which glitter in +the walls, at the base of which is a profusion of mosses, ferns and +flowers. To the place above where the three portages were necessary the +name of Cataract Canon was given; and they were now well into the Grand +Canon itself. The walls were more than a mile in height, and, as Major +Powell says, a vertical altitude like this is not easily pictured. +"Stand on the south steps of the Treasury Building in Washington and +look down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol Park, and measure this +distance overhead, and imagine cliffs to extend to that altitude, and +you will understand what I mean," the explorer has written; "or stand at +Canal street in New York and look up Broadway to Grace Church, and you +have about the distance; or stand at the Lake street bridge in Chicago +and look down to the Central Depot, and you have it again." A thousand +feet of the distance is through granite crags, above which are slopes +and perpendicular cliffs to the summit. The gorge is black and narrow +below, red and gray and flaring above. + +[Illustration: THE HEART OF CATARACT CANON.] + +Down these gloomy depths the expedition constantly glided, ever +listening and ever peering ahead, for the canon is winding and they +could not see more than a few hundred yards in advance. The view +changed every minute as some new crag or pinnacle or glen or peak became +visible; but the men were fully engaged listening for rapids and looking +for rocks. Navigation was exceedingly difficult, and it was often +necessary to hold the boats from ledges in the cliffs as the falls were +passed. The river was very deep and the canon very narrow. The waters +boiled and rushed in treacherous currents, which sometimes whirled the +boats into the stream or hurried them against the walls. The oars were +useless, and each crew labored for its own preservation as its frail +vessel was spun round like a top or borne with the speed of a locomotive +this way and that. + +[Illustration: MARY'S VEIL, A SIDE CANON.] + +While they were thus uncontrollable the boats entered a rapid, and one +of them was driven in shore, but as there was no foothold for a portage +the men pushed into the stream again. The next minute a reflex wave +filled the open compartment and water-logged her: breaker after breaker +rolled over her, and one capsized her. The men were thrown out, but they +managed to cling to her, and as they were swept down the other boats +rescued them. + +Heavy clouds rolled in the canon, filling it with gloom. Sometimes they +hung above from wall to wall and formed a roof: then a gust of wind from +a side-canon made a rift in them and the blue heavens were revealed, or +they dispersed in patches which settled on the crags, while puffs of +vapor issued out of the smaller gulches, and occasionally formed bars +across the canon, one above another, each opening a different vista. +When they discharged their rains little rills first trickled down the +cliff, and these soon became brooks: the brooks grew into creeks and +tumbled down through innumerable cascades, which added their music to +the roar of the river. As soon as the rain ceased rills, brooks, creeks +and cascades disappeared, their birth and death being equally sudden. + +[Illustration: LIGHTHOUSE ROCK IN THE CANON OF DESOLATION.] + +Desolate and inaccessible as the canon is, many ruins of buildings are +found perched upon ledges in the stupendous cliffs. In some instances +the mouths of caves have been walled in, and the evidences all point to +a race for ever dreading and fortifying itself against an invader. Why +did these people chose their embattlements so far away from all +tillable land and sources of subsistence? Major Powell suggests this +solution of the problem: For a century or two after the settlement of +Mexico many expeditions were sent into the country now comprised in +Arizona and New Mexico for the purpose of bringing the town-building +people under the dominion of the Spanish government. Many of their +villages were destroyed, and the inhabitants fled to regions at that +time unexplored; and there are traditions among the existing Pueblos +that the canons were these lands. The Spanish conquerors had a monstrous +greed for gold and a lust for saving souls. "Treasure they must have--if +not on earth why, then, in heaven--and when they failed to find heathen +temples bedecked with silver they propitiated Heaven by seizing the +heathen themselves. There is yet extant a copy of a record made by a +heathen artist to express his conception of the demands of the +conquerors. In one part of the picture we have a lake, and near by +stands a priest pouring water on the head of a native. On the other side +a poor Indian has a cord around his throat. Lines run from these two +groups to a central figure, a man with a beard and full Spanish panoply. +The interpretation of the picture-writing is this: 'Be baptized as this +saved heathen, or be hanged as this damned heathen.' Doubtless some of +the people preferred a third alternative, and rather than be baptized or +hanged they chose to be imprisoned within these canon-walls." + +The rains and the accidents in the rapids had seriously reduced the +commissary by this time, and the provisions left were more or less +injured. The bacon was uneatable, and had to be thrown away: the flour +was musty, and the saleratus was lost overboard. On August 17th the +party had only enough food remaining for ten days' use, and though they +hoped that the worst places had been passed, the barometers were broken, +and they did not know what descent they had yet to make. The canvas +which they had brought with them for covering from Green River City was +rotten, there was not one blanket apiece for the men, and more than half +the party were hatless. Despite their hopes that the greatest obstacles +had been overcome, however, on the morning of August 27th they reached a +place which appeared more perilous than any they had so far passed. They +landed on one side of the river, and clambered over the granite +pinnacles for a mile or two without seeing any way by which they could +lower the boats. Then they crossed to the other side and walked along +the top of a crag. In his eagerness to reach a point where he could see +the roaring fall below, Major Powell went too far, and was caught at a +point where he could neither advance nor retreat: the river was four +hundred feet below, and he was suspended in front of the cliff with one +foot on a small projecting rock and one hand fixed in a little crevice. +He called for help, and the men passed him a line, but he could not let +go of the rock long enough to seize it. While he felt his hold becoming +weaker and expected momentarily to drop into the canon, the men went to +the boats and obtained three of the largest oars. The blade of one of +them was pushed into the crevice of a rock beyond him in such a manner +that it bound him across the body to the wall, and another oar was fixed +so that he could stand upon it and walk out of the difficulty. He +breathed again, but had felt that cold air which seems to fan one when +death is near. + +Another hour was spent in examining the river, but a good view of it +could not be obtained, and they once more went to the opposite side. +After some hard work among the cliffs they discovered that the lateral +streams had washed a large number of boulders into the river, forming a +dam over which the water made a broken fall of about twenty feet, below +which was a rapid beset by huge rocks for two or three hundred yards. +This was bordered on one side by a series of sharp projections of the +canon-walls, and beyond it was a second fall, ending in another and no +less threatening rapid. At the bottom of the latter an immense slab of +granite projected fully halfway across the river, and upon the inclined +plane which it formed the water rolled with all the momentum gained in +the falls and rapids above, and then swept over to the left. The men +viewed the prospect with dismay, but Major Powell had an insatiable +desire to complete the exploration. He decided that it was possible to +let the boats down over the first fall, then to run near the right cliff +to a point just above the second fall, where they could pull into a +little chute, and from the foot of that across the stream to avoid the +great rock below. The men shook their heads, and after supper--a sorry +supper of unleavened flour and water, coffee and rancid bacon, eaten on +the rocks--the elder Howland endeavored to dissuade the leader from his +purpose, and, failing to do so, told him that he with his brother and +Dunn would go no farther. That night Major Powell did not sleep at all, +but paced to and fro, now measuring the remaining provisions, then +contemplating the rushing falls and rapids. Might not Howland be right? +Would it be wise to venture into that maelstrom which was white during +the darkest hours of the night? At one time he almost concluded to leave +the river and to strike out across the table-lands for the Mormon +settlements. But this trip had been the object of his life for many +years, looked forward to and dreamed of, and to leave the exploration +unfinished when he was so near the end, to acknowledge defeat, was more +than he could reconcile himself to. + +[Illustration: GRANITE WALLS.] + +In the morning his brother, Captain Powell, Sumner, Bradley, Hall and +Hawkins promised to remain with him, but the Howlands and Dunn were +fixed in their determination to go no farther. The provisions were +divided, and one of the boats was left with the deserters, who were also +provided with three guns: Howland was also entrusted with duplicate +copies of the records and with some mementos the voyagers desired to +have sent to friends and relatives should they not be heard of again. It +was a solemn parting. The Howlands and Dunn entreated the others not to +go on, telling them that it was obvious madness; but the decision had +been made, and the two boats pushed out into the stream. + +They glided rapidly along the foot of the wall, grazing one large rock, +and then they pulled into the falls and plunged over them. The open +compartment of the major's boat was filled when she struck the first +wave below, but she cut through the upheaval, and by vigorous strokes +was drawn away from the dangerous rock farther down. They were scarcely +a minute in running through the rapids, and found that what had seemed +almost hopeless from above was really less difficult than many other +points on the river. The Rowlands and their companion were now out of +sight, and guns were fired to indicate to them that the passage had been +safely made and to induce them to follow; but no answer came, and after +waiting two hours the descent of the river was resumed. + +[Illustration: CANON IN ESCALANTE BASIN.] + +A succession of falls and rapids still had to be overcome, and in the +afternoon the explorers were once more threatened with defeat. A little +stream entered the canon from the left, and immediately below the river +broke over two falls, beyond which it rose in high waves and subsided in +whirlpools. The boats hugged the left wall for some distance, but when +the men saw that they could not descend on this side they pulled up +stream several hundred yards and crossed to the other. Here there was a +bed of basalt about one hundred feet high, which, disembarking, they +followed, pulling the boats after them by ropes. The major, as usual, +went ahead, and discovered that it would be impossible to lower the +boats from the cliff; but the men had already brought one of them to the +brink of the falls and had secured her by a bight around a crag. The +other boat, in which Bradley had remained, was shooting in and out from +the cliffs with great violence, now straining the line by which she was +held, and now whirling against the rock as if she would dash herself to +pieces. An effort was made to pass another rope to Bradley, but he was +so preoccupied that he did not notice it, and the others saw him take a +knife out of its sheath and step forward to cut the line. He had decided +that it was better to go over the falls with her than to wait for her to +be completely wrecked against the rocks. He did not show the least +alarm, and as he leaned over to cut the rope the boat sheered into the +stream, the stern-post broke and he was adrift. With perfect composure +he seized the large scull-oar, placed it in the stern rowlock and pulled +with all his strength, which was considerable, to turn the bow down +stream. After the third stroke she passed over the falls and was +invisible for several seconds, when she reappeared upon a great wave, +dancing high over its crest, then sinking between two vast walls of +water. The men on the cliff held their breath as they watched. Again she +disappeared, and this time was out of sight so long that poor Bradley's +fate seemed settled; but in a moment more something was noticed emerging +from the water farther down the stream: it was the boat, with Bradley +standing on deck and twirling his hat to show that he was safe. He was +spinning round in a whirlpool, however, and Sumner and Powell were sent +along the cliff to see if they could help him, while the major and the +others embarked in the remaining boat and passed over the fall. After +reaching the brink they do not remember what happened to them, except +that their boat was upset and that Bradley pulled them out of the water. +Powell and Sumner joined them by climbing along the cliff, and, having +put the boats in order, they once more started down the stream. + +[Illustration: PA-RU-NU-WEAP CANON.] + +On the next day, August 29th, three months and five days after leaving +Green River City, they reached the foot of the Grand Canon of the +Colorado, the passage of which had been of continuous peril and toil, +and on the 30th they ended their exploration at a ranch, from which the +way was easy to Salt Lake City. "Now the danger is over," writes Major +Powell in his diary; "now the toil has ceased; now the gloom has +disappeared; now the firmament is bounded only by the horizon; and what +a vast expanse of constellations can be seen! The river rolls by us in +silent majesty; the quiet of the camp is sweet; our joy is almost +ecstasy. We sit till long after midnight talking of the Grand Canon, +talking of home, but chiefly talking of the three men who left us. Are +they wandering in those depths, unable to find a way out? are they +searching over the desert-lands above for water? or are they nearing the +settlements?" + +It was about a year afterward that their fate became known. Major Powell +was continuing his explorations, and having passed through Pa-ru-nu-weap +(or Roaring Water) Canon, he spent some time among the Indians in the +region beyond, from whom he learned that three white men had been +killed the year before. They had come upon the Indian village starving +and exhausted with fatigue, saying that they had descended the Grand +Canon. They were fed and started on the way to the settlements, but they +had not gone far when an Indian arrived from the east side of the +Colorado and told of some miners who had killed a squaw in a drunken +brawl. He incited the tribe to follow and attack the three whites, who +no doubt were the murderers. Their story of coming down the Grand Canon +was impossible--no men had ever done that--and it was a falsehood +designed to cover their guilt. Excited by a desire for revenge, a party +stole after them, surrounded them in ambush and filled them with arrows. +This was the tragic end of Dunn and the Rowland brothers. + +Little need be added. The unflinching courage, the quiet persistence and +the inexhaustible zeal of Major Powell enabled him to achieve a +geographical exploit which had been deemed wholly impracticable, and +which in adventurousness puts most of the feats of the Alpine Club in +the shade. But the narrative may derive a further interest from one +other fact concerning this intrepid explorer, whom we have seen standing +at the bow of his boats and guiding them over tempestuous falls, rapids +and whirlpools, soaring among the crags of almost perpendicular +canon-walls and suspended by his fingers from the rocks four hundred +feet above the level of the river: Major Powell is a one-armed man! + + WILLIAM H. RIDEING. + + + + +ADAM AND EVE. + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +For an instant every one seemed paralyzed and transfixed in the position +into which upon Jonathan's entrance they had started. Then a sudden rush +was made toward the door, which several of the strongest blocked up, +while Adam called vainly on them to stand aside and give the chance of +more air. Joan flew for water, and Jerrem dashed it over Jonathan. + +There was a minute of anxious watching, and then slowly over Jonathan's +pallid face the signs of returning animation began to creep. + +"Now, stand back--stand back from him, do!" said Adam, fearing the +effect of so many faces crowding near would only serve to further daze +his scared senses.--"What is it, Jonathan? what is it, lad?" he asked, +kneeling down by him. + +Jonathan tried to rise, and Adam motioned for Barnabas Tadd to come and +assist in getting him on his feet. + +"Now, sit down there," said Adam, "and put your lips to this, and then +tell us what's up." + +Jonathan cowered down as he threw a hasty glance round, the meaning of +which was answered by a general "You knaws all of us, Jonathan, don't +ee?" + +"Iss," said Jonathan, breaking into a feeble laugh, "but somehows I'd a +rinned till I'd got 'em all, as I fancied, to my heels, close by." + +"And where are they, then?" said Adam, seizing the opportunity of +getting at the most important fact. + +"Comin' 'long t' roadway, man by man, and straddled on to their horses' +backs. They'm to take 'ee all, dead or livin', sarch by night or day. +Some o' 'em is come all the ways fra Plymouth, vowin' and swearin' +they'll have blid for blid, and that if they can't pitch 'pon he who +fired to kill their man every sawl aboard the Lottery shall swing +gallows-high for un." + +A volley of oaths ran through the room, Joan threw up her arms in +despair, Eve groaned aloud. + +Suddenly there was a movement as if some one was breaking from a +detaining hand. 'Twas Jerrem, who, pushing forward, cried out, "Then +I'll give myself up to wance: nobody sha'n't suffer 'cos o' me. I did +it, and I wasn't afeared to do it, neither, and no more I ain't afeared +to answer for it now." + +The buzz which negatived this offer bespoke the appreciation of Jerrem's +magnanimity. + +Adam alone had taken no part in it: turning, he said sternly, "Do we +risk our lives together, then, to skulk off when danger offers and leave +one to suffer for all? Let's have no more of such idle talk. While +things promised to run smooth you was welcome to the boast of havin' +fired first shot, but now every man aboard fired it; and let he who says +he didn't stand out and say it now." + +"Fair spoke and good sense," said the men. + +"Then off with you, each to the place he thinks safest.--Jerrem and you, +father, must stay here. I shall go to the mill, and, Jonathan, for the +night you'd best come along with me." + +With little visible excitement and but few words the men began to +depart, all of them more or less stupefied by the influence of drink, +which, combined with this unexpected dash to their hopes and overthrow +of their boastings, seemed to rob them of all their energy. They were +ready to do whatever they were asked, go wherever they were told, listen +to all that was said, but anything beyond this was then impossible. They +had no more power of deciding, proposing, arranging for themselves, than +if they had been a flock of sheep warned that a ravenous wolf was near. + +The one necessary action which seemed to have laid hold upon them was +that they must all solemnly shake hands; and this in many cases they +did over and over again, repeating each time, with a warning nod of the +head, "Well, mate, 'tis a bad job o' it, this," until some of the more +collected felt it necessary to interfere and urge their immediate +departure: then one by one they stole away, leaving the house in +possession of its usual occupants. + +Adam had already been up stairs to get Uncle Zebedee--now utterly +incapable of any thought for himself--safely placed in a secret closet +which was hollowed in the wall behind the bed. Turning to Jerrem as he +came down, he said, "You can manage to stow yourself away; only mind, do +it at once, so that the house is got quiet before they've time to get +here." + +"All right," said Jerrem doggedly, while Joan slid back the seat of the +settle, turned down a flap in the wall, and discovered the hole in which +Jerrem was to lie concealed. "There! there ain't another hidin'-place +like that in all Polperro," she said. "They may send a whole reg'ment o' +sodgers afore a man among 'em 'ull pitch on 'ee there, Jerrem." + +"And that's the reason why I don't want to have it," said Jerrem. "I +don't see why I'm to have the pick and choice, and why Adam's to go off +to where they've only got to search and find." + +"Well, but 'tis as he says," urged Joan. "They may ha' got you in their +eye already. Come, 'tis all settled now," she continued persuasively; +"so get 'longs in with 'ee, like a dear." + +Jerrem gave a look round. Eve was busy clearing the table, Adam was +putting some tobacco into his pouch. He hesitated, then he made a step +forward, then he drew back again, until at last, with visible effort, he +said, "Come, give us yer hand, Adam." With no affectation of cordiality +Adam held out his hand. "Whatever comes, you've spoke up fair for me, +and acted better than most would ha' done, seem' that I've let my tongue +run a bit too fast 'bout you o' late." + +"Oh, don't think I've done any more for you than I should ha' done for +either one o' the others," said Adam, not willing to accept a feather's +weight of Jerrem's gratitude. "However," he added, trying to force +himself into a greater show of graciousness, "here's wishin' all may go +well with you, as with all of us!" + +Not over-pleased with this cold reception of his advances, Jerrem turned +hastily round to Joan. "Here, let's have a kiss, Joan," he said. + +"Iss, twenty, my dear, so long as you'll only be quick 'bout it." + +"Eve!" + +"There! nonsense now!" exclaimed Joan, warned by an expression in Adam's +face: "there's no call for no leave-takin' with Eve: her'll be here so +well as you." + +The words, well-intentioned as they were, served as fuel to Adam's +jealous fire, and for a moment he felt that it was impossible to go away +and leave Jerrem behind; but the next instant the very knowledge of that +passing weakness was only urging him to greater self-command, although +the effort it cost him gave a hardness to his voice and a coldness to +his manner. One tender word, and his resolve would be gone--one soft +emotion, and to go would be impossible. + +Eve, on her part, with all her love reawakened, her fears excited and +her imagination sharpened, was wrought up to a pitch of emotion which +each moment grew more and more beyond her control. In her efforts to +keep calm she busied herself in clearing the table and moving to and fro +the chairs, all the time keenly alive to the fact that Joan was hovering +about Adam, suggesting comforts, supplying resources and pouring out a +torrent of wordy hopes and fears. Surely Adam would ask--Joan would +think to give them--one moment to themselves? If not she would demand +it, but before she could speak, boom on her heart came Adam's "Good-bye, +Joan, good-bye." What can she do now? How bear this terrible parting? In +her efforts to control the desire to give vent to her agony her powers +of endurance utterly gave way. A rushing sound as of many waters came +gurgling in her ears, dulling the voice of some one who spoke from far +off. + +"What are they saying?" In vain she tried to catch the words, to speak, +to move: then, gathering up all her strength, with a piercing cry she +tried to break the spell. The room reeled, the ground beneath her gave +way, a hundred voices shrieked good-bye, and with their clamor ringing +in her ears Eve's spirit went down into silence and darkness. Another +minute, and she was again alive to all her misery: Joan was kneeling +beside her, the tears streaming from her eyes. + +"What is it? Where's Adam?" exclaimed Eve, starting up. + +"Gone," said Joan: "he said 'twas better to, 'fore you comed to yourself +agen." + +"Gone! and never said a word?" she cried. "Gone! Oh, Joan, how could he? +how could he?" + +"What would 'ee have un do, then?" said Joan sharply. "Bide dallyin' +here to be took by the hounds o' sodgers that's marchin' 'pon us all? +That's fine love, I will say." But suddenly a noise outside made them +both start and stand listening with beating hearts until all again was +still and quiet: then Joan's quick-roused anger failed her, and, +repenting her sharp speech, she threw her arms round Eve's neck, crying, +"Awh, Eve, don't 'ee lets you and me set 'bout quarrellin', my dear, for +if sorrow ain't a-drawin' nigh my name's not Joan Hocken. I never before +felt the same way as I do to-night. My spirits is gived way: my heart +seems to have falled flat down and died within me, and, be doing what I +may, there keeps soundin' in my ears a nickety-knock like the tappin' on +a coffin-lid." + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +Since the night on which Jonathan's arrival had plunged the party +assembled at Zebedee Pascal's into such dismay a week had passed +by--seven days and nights of terror and confusion. + +The determined manner in which the government authorities traced out +each clew and tracked every scent struck terror into the stoutest +hearts, and men who had never before shrunk from danger in any open form +now feared to show their faces, dared not sleep in their own houses, +nor, except by stealth, visit their own families. At dead of night, as +well as in the blaze of day, stealthy descents would be made upon the +place, the houses surrounded and strict search made. One hour the +streets would be deserted, the next every corner bristled with rude +soldiery, flinging insults and imprecations on the feeble old men and +defenceless women, who, panic-stricken, stood about vainly endeavoring +to seem at their ease and keep up a show of indifference. + +One of the first acts had been to seize the Lottery, and orders had been +issued to arrest all or any of her crew, wherever they might be found; +but as yet no trace of them had been discovered. Jerrem and Uncle +Zebedee still lay concealed within the house, and Adam at the mill, +crouched beneath corn-bins, lay covered by sacks and grain, while the +tramp of the soldiers sounded in his ears or the ring of their voices +set his stout heart quaking with fear of discovery. To men whose lives +had been spent out of doors, with the free air of heaven and the fresh +salt breeze of the sea constantly sweeping over them, toil and hardship +were pastimes compared to this inactivity; and it was little to be +wondered at that for one and all the single solace left seemed drink. +Drink deadened their restlessness, benumbed their energies, made them +forget their dangers, sleep through their durance. So that even Adam +could not always hold out against a solace which helped to shorten the +frightful monotony of those weary days, dragged out for the most time in +solitude and darkness. With no occupation, no resources, no companion, +ever dwelling on self and viewing each action, past and present, by the +light of an exaggerated (often a distorted) vision, Adam grew irritable, +morose, suspicious. + +Why hadn't Joan come? Surely there couldn't be anything to keep Eve +away? And if so, might they not send a letter, a message or some token +to show him that he was still in their thoughts? In vain did Mrs. Tucker +urge the necessity of a caution hitherto unknown: in vain did she repeat +the stories brought of footsteps dogged, and houses watched so that +their inmates dare not run the smallest risk for fear of its leading to +detection. Adam turned a deaf ear to all she said, sinking at last down +to the conclusion that he could endure such suspense no longer, and, +come what might, must the next day steal back home and satisfy himself +how things were going on. The only concession to her better judgment +which Mrs. Tucker could gain was his promise to wait until she had been +in to Polperro to reconnoitre; for though, from having seen a party of +soldiers pass that morning, they knew some of the troop had left, it was +impossible to say how many remained behind nor whether they had received +fresh strength from the opposite direction. + +"I sha'n't give no more o' they than I sees the wisdom of," reflected +Mrs. Tucker as, primed with questions to ask Joan and messages to give +to Eve, she securely fastened the doors preparatory to her departure. +"If I was to tell up such talk to Eve her'd be piping off here next +minit or else sendin' back a pack o' silly speeches that 'ud make Adam +mazed to go to she. 'Tis wonderful how took up he is with a maid he +knows so little of. But there! 'tis the same with all the men, I +b'lieve--tickle their eye and good-bye to their judgment." And giving +the outer gate a shake to assure herself that it could not be opened +without a preparatory warning to those within, Mrs. Tucker turned away +and out into the road. + +A natural tendency to be engrossed by personal interests, together with +a life of narrowed circumstances, had somewhat blunted the acuteness of +Mrs. Tucker's impressionable sensibilities, yet she could not but be +struck at the change these last two weeks had wrought in the aspect of +the place. The houses, wont to stand open so that friendly greetings +might be exchanged, were now closed and shut; the blinds of most of the +windows were drawn down; the streets, usually thronged with idlers, were +all but deserted; the few shops empty of wares and of customers. Calling +to her recollection the frequent prophetic warnings she had indulged in +about these evil days to come, Mrs. Tucker's heart smote her. Surely +Providence had never taken her at her word and really brought a judgment +on the place? If so, seeing her own kith and kin would be amongst the +most to suffer, it had read a very wrong meaning in her words; for it +stood to reason when folks talked serious-like they didn't always stop +to measure what they said, and if a text or two o' Scripture sounded +seemly, 'twas fitted in to help their speech out with, not to be pulled +abroad to seek the downright meanin' o' each word. + +Subdued and oppressed by these and like reflections, Mrs. Tucker reached +Uncle Zebedee's house, inside which the change wrought was in keeping +with the external sadness. Both girls looked harassed and +careworn--Joan, now that there was no further occasion for that display +of spirit and bravado which before the soldiers she had successfully +contrived to maintain, utterly broken down and apathetically dejected; +Eve, unable to enter into all the difficulties or sympathize in the +universal danger, ill at ease with herself and irritable with all around +her. In her anxiety to hear about Adam--what message he had sent and +whether she could not go to see him--she had barely patience to listen +to Mrs. Tucker's roundabout details and lugubrious lamentations, and, +choosing a very inopportune moment, she broke out with, "What message +has Adam sent, Mrs. Tucker? He's sent a message to me, I'm sure: I know +he must have." + +"Awh, well, if you knaws, you don't want to be told, then," snorted Mrs. +Tucker, ill pleased at having her demands upon sympathy put to such +sudden flight. "Though don't you think, Eve, that Adam hasn't got +somethin' else to think of than sendin' love-messages and nonsense o' +that sort? He's a good deal too much took up 'bout the trouble we'm all +in for that.--He hoped you was all well, and keepin' yer spirits up, +Joan." + +"Poor sawl!" sighed Joan: "I 'spects he finds that's more than he can +do." + +"Ah, you may well say that," replied Mrs. Tucker, casting a troubled +look toward her daughter's altered face. "Adam's doin' purtty much the +same as you be, Joan--frettin' his insides out." + +"He's fretting, then?" gasped Eve, managing to get the words past the +great lump which seemed to choke her further utterance. + +"Frettin'," repeated Mrs. Tucker with severity. "But there! why should +I?" she added, as if blaming her sense of injury. "I keeps forgettin' +that, compared with Joan, Eve, you'm nothin' but a stranger, as you may +say; and, though I dare say I sha'n't get your thanks for saying it, +still Adam could tell 'ee so well as me that fresh faces is all very +well in fair weather, but in times of trouble they counts for very +little aside o' they who's bin brought up from the same cradle, you may +say." + +Eve's swelling heart could bear no more. This sense of being set aside +and looked on as a stranger was a gall which of late she had been +frequently called upon to endure, but to have it hinted at that Adam +could share in this feeling toward her--oh, it was too much, and rising +hastily she turned to run up stairs. + +"Now, there's no call to fly off in no tantrums, Eve," said Mrs. Tucker; +"so just sit down now and listen to what else I've got to say." + +But Eve's outraged love could hide itself no longer: to answer Joan's +mother with anything like temper was impossible, and, knowing this, her +only refuge was in flight. "I don't want to hear any more you may have +to say, Mrs. Tucker;" and though Eve managed to keep under the sharpness +of her voice, she could not control the indignant expression of her +face, which Mrs. Tucker fully appreciating, she speeded her departure by +the inspiriting prediction that if Eve didn't sup sorrow by the spoonful +before her hair was gray her name wasn't Ann Tucker. + +"Awh, don't 'ee say that," said Joan. "You'm over-crabbit with her, +mother, and her only wantin' to hear some word that Adam had sent to her +ownself." + +"But, mercy 'pon us! her must give me time to fetch my breath," +exclaimed Mrs. Tucker indignantly, "and I foaced to fly off as I did for +fear that Adam should forestall me and go doin' somethin' foolish!" + +"He ain't wantin' to come home?" said Joan hurriedly. + +"Iss, but he is, though. And when us see they sodgers go past I thought +no other than he'd a set off then and there. As I said to un, ''Tis true +you knows o' they that's gone, but how can 'ee tell how many's left +behind?'" + +Joan shook her head. "They'm all off," she said: "every man of 'em's +gone; but, for all that, Adam mustn't come anighst us or show his face +in the place. 'Tis held everywhere that this move is nothin' but a decoy +to get the men out o' hidin', and that done, back they'll all come and +drop down on 'em." + +"Well, then, I'd best go back to wanst," cried Mrs. Tucker, starting up, +"and try and put a stop to his comin', tho' whether he'll pay any heed +to what I say is more than I'll answer for." + +"Tell un," said Joan, "that for all our sakes he mustn't come, and say +that I've had word that Jonathan's lurkin' nigh about here some place, +so I reckon there's somethin' up; and what it is he shall know so soon +as I can send word to un. Say _that_ ought to tell un 'tisn't safe to +stir, 'cos he knows that Jonathan would sooner have gone to he than to +either wan here." + +"Well, I'll tell un all you tells me to," said Mrs. Tucker with a +somewhat hopeless expression; "but you knaw what Adam is, Joan, when he +fixes his mind on anythin'; and I've had the works o' the warld to keep +un from comin' already: he takes such fancies about 'ee all as you never +did. I declare if I didn't knaw that p'r'aps he's a had more liquor than +he's used to take o' times I should ha' fancied un light-headed like." + +"And so he'll be if you gives much sperrit to un, mother," said Joan +anxiously: "'tis sure to stir his temper up. But there!" she added +despondingly, "what can anybody do? 'Tis all they ha' got to fly to. +There's Jerrem at it fro' mornin' to night; and as for uncle, dear sawl! +he's as happy as a clam at high watter." + +"Iss, I reckon," said Mrs. Tucker: "it don't never matter much what goes +wrong, so long as uncle gets his fill o' drink. I've said scores o' +times uncle's joy 'ud never run dry so long as liquor lasted." + +"Awh, well," said Joan, "I don't knaw what us should ha' done if there'd +ha' bin no drink to give 'em: they'd ha' bin more than Eve and me could +manage, I can tell 'ee. Nobody but our ownselves, mother, will ever +knaw what us two maidens have had to go through." + +"You've often had my thoughts with 'ee, Joan," said Mrs. Tucker, her +eyes dimmed by a rush of motherly sympathy for all the girls must have +suffered; "and you can tell Eve (for her'll take it better from you than +from me) that Adam's allays a-thinkin' of her, and begged and prayed +that she wudn't forget un." + +"No fear o' that," said Joan, anxious that her mother should depart; +"and mind now you say, no matter what time 'tis, directly I'se seen +Jonathan and knaws 'tis safe for we somebody shall bring un word to come +back, for Eve and me's longin' to have a sight of un." + +Charged with these messages, Mrs. Tucker hastened back to the mill, +where all had gone well since her departure, and where she found Adam +more tractable and reasonable than she had had reason to anticipate. He +listened to all Joan's messages, agreed with her suspicions and seemed +contented to abide by her decision. The plain, unvarnished statement +which Mrs. Tucker gave of the misery and gloom spread over the place +affected him visibly, and her account of the two girls, and the +alteration she had seen in them, did not tend to dispel his emotion. + +"As for Joan," she said, letting a tear escape and trickle down her +cheek, "'tis heart-breakin' to look at her. Her's terrible wrapped up in +you, Adam, is Joan--more than, as her mother, I cares for her to awn to, +seein' how you'm situated with Eve." + +"Oh, Eve never made no difference 'twixt us two," said Adam. Then, after +a pause, he asked, "Didn't Eve give you no word to give to me?" + +"Well, no," said Mrs. Tucker: then, with the determination to deal +fairly, she added quickly, "but her was full o' questions about 'ee, and +that 'fore I'd time to draw breath inside the place." Adam was silent, +and Mrs. Tucker, considering the necessity for further explanation +removed by the compromise she had made, continued: "You see, what with +Jerrem and uncle, and the drink that goes on, they two poor maidens is +kept pretty much on the go; and Eve, never bein' used to no such ways, +seems terrible harried by it all." + +"Harried?" repeated Adam, with ill-suppressed bitterness, "and well she +may be; still, I should ha' thought she might have managed to send, if +'twas no more than a word, back to me." + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +Under the plea that, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, Jonathan +might still possibly put in an appearance, Adam lingered in his aunt's +cheerful-looking kitchen until after the clock had struck eleven: then +he very reluctantly got up, and, bidding Mrs. Tucker and Sammy +good-night, betook himself to the mill-house, in which, with regard to +his greater safety, a bed had been made up for him. + +Adam felt that, court it as he might, sleep was very far from his eyes, +and that, compared to his own society and the torment of thought which +harassed and racked him each time he found himself alone, even Sammy +Tucker's company was a boon to be grateful for. There were times during +these hours of dreary loneliness when Adam's whole nature seemed +submerged by the billows of love--cruel waves, which would toss him +hither and thither, making sport of his hapless condition, to strand him +at length on the quicksands of fear, where a thousand terrible alarms +would seize him and fill him with dread as to how these disasters might +end. What would become of him? how would it fare with Eve and himself? +where could they go? what could they do?--questions ever swallowed up by +the constantly-recurring, all-important bewilderment as to what could +possibly have brought about this dire disaster. + +On this night Adam's thoughts were more than usually engrossed by Eve: +her form seemed constantly before him, distracting him with images as +tempting and unsatisfying as is the desert spring with which desire +mocks the thirst of the fainting traveller. At length that relaxation of +strength which in sterner natures takes the place of tears subdued Adam, +a softened feeling crept over him, and, shifting his position so that +he might rest his arms against the corn-bin near, a deep-drawn sigh +escaped him. + +"Hist!" + +Adam started at the sound, and without moving turned his head and looked +rapidly about him. Nothing was to be seen: with the exception of the +small radius round the lantern all was darkness and gloom. + +"Hist!" was repeated, and this time there was no more doubt but that the +sound came from some one close by. + +A clammy sweat stood on Adam's forehead, his tongue felt dry and so +powerless that it needed an effort to force it to move. "Who's there?" +he said. + +"'Tis me--Jonathan." + +Adam caught up the lantern, and, turning it in the direction whence the +voice came, found to his relief that the rays fell upon Jonathan's face. +"Odds rot it, lad!" he exclaimed, "but you've gived me a turn! How the +deuce did you get in here? and why didn't ye come inside to the house +over there?" + +"I've a bin scrooged down 'tween these 'ere sacks for ever so long," +said Jonathan, trying to stretch out his cramped limbs: "I reckon I've +had a bit o' a nap too, for the time ha'n't a took long in goin', and +when I fust come 'twasn't altogether dark." + +"'Tis close on the stroke o' twelve now," said Adam. "But come, what +news, eh? Have ye got hold o' anything yet? Are they devils off for +good? Is that what you've come to tell me?" + +"Iss, they's off this time, I fancy," said Jonathan; "but 'twasn't that +broffed me, though I should ha' comed to tell 'ee o' that too." + +"No? What is it then?" demanded Adam impatiently, turning the light so +that he could get a better command of Jonathan's face. + +"'Twas 'cos o' this," said Jonathan, his voice dropping to a whisper, so +that, though the words were trembling on his lips, his agitation and +excitement almost prevented their utterance: "I've found it out--all of +it--who blowed the gaff 'pon us." + +Adam started forward: his face all but touched Jonathan's, and an +expression of terrible eagerness came into his eyes. + +"'Twas she!" hissed Jonathan--"she--her from London--Eve;" but before +the name was well uttered Adam had thrown himself upon him and was +grasping at his throat as if to throttle him, while a volley of +imprecations poured from his mouth, denouncing the base lie which +Jonathan had dared to utter. A moment more, and this fit of impotent +rage over, he flung him violently off, and stood for a moment trying to +bring back his senses; but the succession of circumstances had been too +much for him: his head swam round, his knees shook under him, and he had +to grasp hold of a beam near to steady himself. + +"What for do 'ee sarve me like that, then?" muttered Jonathan. "I ain't +a-tellin' 'ee no more than I've a-heerd, and what's the truth. Her +name's all over the place," he went on, forgetful of the recent outburst +and warming with his narration. "Her's a reg'lar bad wan; her's +a-carr'ed on with a sodger-chap so well as with Jerrem; her's a--" + +"By the living Lord, if you speak another word I'll be your death!" +exclaimed Adam. + +"Wa-al, and so you may," exclaimed Jonathan doggedly, "if so be you'll +lave me bide 'til I'se seed the end o' she. Why, what do 'ee mane, +then?" he cried, a sudden suspicion throwing a light on Adam's storm of +indignation. "Her bain't nawthin' to you--her's Jerrem's maid: her +bain't your maid? Why," he added, finding that Adam didn't speak, "'twas +through the letter I carr'ed from he that her'd got it to blab about. I +wishes my hand had bin struck off"--and he dashed it violently against +the wooden bin--"afore I'd touched his letter or his money." + +"What letter?" gasped Adam. + +"Wa-al, I knaws you said I warn't to take neither wan; but Jerrem he +coaxes and persuades, and says you ain't to knaw nawthin' about it, and +'tain't nawthin' in it, only 'cos he'd a got a letter fra' she to +Guernsey, and this was t' answer; and then I knawed, 'cos I seed em, +that they was sweetheartin' and that, and--" + +"Did you give her that letter?" said Adam; and the sound of his voice +was so strange that Jonathan shrank back and cowered close to the wall. + +"Iss, I did," he faltered: "leastwise, I gived un to Joan, but t'other +wan had the radin' in it." + +There was a pause, during which Adam stood stunned, feeling that +everything was crumbling and giving way beneath him--that he had no +longer anything to live for, anything to hope, anything to fear. As, one +after another, each former bare suggestion of artifice now passed before +him clothed in the raiment of certain deceit, he made a desperate clutch +at the most improbable, in the wild hope that one falsehood at least +might afford him some ray of light, however feeble, to dispel the +horrors of this terrible darkness. + +"And after she'd got the letter," he said, "what--what about the rest?" + +"Why 'twas this way," cried Jonathan, his eyes rekindling in his +eagerness to tell the story: "somebody dropped a bit of paper into the +rendevoos winder, with writin' 'pon it to say when and where they'd find +the Lottery to. Who 'twas did it none knaws for sartain, but the talk's +got abroad 'twas a sergeant there, 'cos he'd a bin braggin' aforehand +that he'd got a watch-sale and that o' her'n'." + +"Her'n?" echoed Adam. + +"Iss, o' Eve's. And he's allays a-showin' of it off, he is; and when +they axes un questions he doan't answer, but he dangles the sale afront +of 'em and says, 'What d'ee think?' he says; and now he makes his brag +that he shall hab the maid yet, while her man's a-dancin' gallus-high a +top o' Tyburn tree." + +The blood rushed up into Adam's face, so that each vein stood a separate +cord of swollen, bursting rage. + +"They wasn't a-manin' you, ye knaw," said Jonathan: "'twar Jerrem. Her's +played un false, I reckon. Awh!" and he gave a fiendish chuckle, "but +us'll pay her out for't, woan't us, eh? Awnly you give to me the +ticklin' o' her ozel-pipe;" and he made a movement of his bony fingers +that conveyed such a hideous embodiment of his meaning that Adam, +overcome by horror, threw up his arms with a terrible cry to heaven, +and falling prone he let the bitterness of death pass over the love that +had so late lain warm at his heart; while Jonathan crouched down, +trembling and awestricken by the sight of emotion which, though he could +not comprehend nor account for, stirred in him the sympathetic +uneasiness of a dumb animal. Afraid to move or speak, he remained +watching Adam's bent figure until his shallow brain, incapable of any +sustained concentration of thought, wandered off to other interests, +from which he was recalled by a noise, and looking up he saw that Adam +had raised himself and was wiping his face with his handkerchief. Did he +feel so hot, then? No, it must be that he felt cold, for he shivered and +his teeth seemed to chatter as he told Jonathan to stoop down by the +side there and hand him up a jar and a glass that he would find; and +this got, Adam poured out some of its contents, and after tossing it off +told Jonathan to take the jar and help himself, for, as nothing could be +done until daylight, they might as well lie down and try and get some +sleep. Jonathan's relish for spirit once excited, he made himself +tolerably free of the permission, and before long had helped himself to +such purpose that, stretched in a heavy sleep, unless some one roused +him he was not likely to awake for some hours to come. + +Then Adam got up and with cautious movements stole down the ladder, +undid the small hatch-door which opened out on the mill-stream, fastened +it after him, and leaping across stood for a few moments asking himself +what he had come out to do. He didn't know, for as yet, in the tumult of +jealousy and revenge, there was no outlet, no gap, by which he might +drain off any portion of that passionate fire which was rapidly +destroying and consuming all his softer feelings. The story which +Jonathan had brought of the betrayal to the sergeant, the fellow's +boastings and his possession of the seal Adam treated as an idle tale, +its possibility vanquished by his conviction that Eve could have had no +share in it. It was the letter from Jerrem which was the damnatory proof +in Adam's eyes--the proof by which he judged and condemned her; for had +not he himself seen and wondered at Jerrem's anxiety to go to Guernsey, +his elation at finding a letter waiting him, his display of wishing to +be seen secretly reading it, and now his ultimate betrayal of them by +sending an answer to it? + +As for Jerrem--oh he would deal with him as with a dog, and quickly send +him to that fate he so richly deserved. It was not against Jerrem that +the depths of his bitterness welled over: as the strength of his love, +so ran his hate; and this all turned to one direction, and that +direction pointed toward Eve. + +He must see her, stand face to face with her, smite her with reproaches, +heap upon her curses, show her how he could trample on her love and +fling her back her perjured vows. And then? This done, what was there +left? From Jerrem he could free himself. A word, a blow, and all would +be over: but how with her? True, he could kill the visible Eve with his +own hands, but the Eve who lived in his love, would she not live there +still? Ay; and though he flung that body which could court the gaze of +other eyes than his full fathoms deep, the fair image which dwelt before +him would remain present to his vision. So that, do what he would, Eve +would live, must live. Live! Crushing down on that thought came the +terrible consequences which might come of Jonathan's tale being told--a +tale so colored with all their bitterest prejudices that it was certain +to be greedily listened to; and in the storm of angry passion it would +rouse everything else would be swallowed up by resentment against Eve's +baseness; and the fire once kindled, what would come of it? + +The picture which Adam's heated imagination conjured up turned him hot +and cold; an agony of fear crept over him; his heart sickened and grew +faint within him, and the hands which but a few minutes before had +longed to be steeped in her blood now trembled and shook with nervous +dread lest a finger of harm should be laid upon her. + +These and a hundred visions more or less wild coursed through Adam's +brain as his feet took their swift way toward Polperro--not keeping +along the open road, but taking a path which, only known to the +inhabitants, would bring him down almost in front of his own house. + +The night was dark, the sky lowering and cloudy. Not a sound was to be +heard, not a soul had he seen, and already Adam was discussing with +himself how best, without making an alarm, he should awaken Joan and +obtain admittance. Usually bars and bolts were unknown, doors were left +unfastened, windows often open; but now all would be securely shut, and +he would have to rely on the possibility of his signal being heard by +some one who might chance to be on the watch. + +Suddenly a noise fell upon his ear. Surely he heard the sound of +footsteps and the hum of voices. It could never be that the surprise +they deemed a possibility had turned out a certainty. Adam crouched +down, and under the shadow of the wall glided silently along until he +came opposite the corner where the house stood. It was as he feared. +There was no further doubt. The shutters were flung back, the door was +half open, and round it, easing their tired limbs as best they might, +stood crowded together a dozen men, the portion of a party who had +evidently spread themselves about the place. + +Fortunately for Adam, the steps which led up to the wooden orrel or +balcony--at that time a common adornment to the Polperro +houses--afforded him a tolerably safe retreat, and, screened here, he +remained a silent watcher, hearing only a confused murmur and seeing +nothing save an occasional movement as one and the other changed posts +and passed in and out of the opposite door. At length a general parley +seemed to take place: the men fell into rank and at a slow pace moved +off down the street in the direction of the quay. Adam looked cautiously +out. The door was now closed. Dare he open it? Might he not find that a +sentinel had been left behind? How about the other door? The chances +against it were as bad. The only possible way of ingress was by a +shutter in the wall which overlooked the brook and communicated with the +hiding-place in which his father lay secreted. This shutter had been +little used since the days of press-gangs. It was painted in so exact an +imitation of the slated house-wall as to defy detection, and to mark the +spot to the initiated eye a root of house-leek projected out below and +served to further screen the opening from view. The contrivance of this +shutter-entrance was well known to Adam, and the mode of reaching it +familiar to him: therefore if he could but elude observation he was +certain of success. + +The plan once decided on, he began putting it into execution, and +although it seemed half a lifetime to him, but very few minutes had +elapsed before he had crossed the road, ran waist-high into the brook, +scaled the wall and scrambled down almost on top of old Zebedee, who, +stupefied by continual drink, sleep and this constant confinement, took +the surprise in a wonderfully calm manner. + +"Hist, father! 'tis only me--Adam." + +"A' right! a' right!" stammered Zebedee, too dazed to take in the whole +matter at once. "What is it, lad, eh? They darned galoots ha'n't a +tracked 'ee, have 'em? By the hooky! but they'm givin' 't us hot and +strong this time, Adam: they was trampin' 'bout inside here a minit +agone, tryin' to keep our sperrits up by a-rattlin' the bilboes in our +ears. Why, however did 'ee dodge 'em, eh? What's the manin' o' it all?" + +"I thought they was gone," said Adam, "so I came down to see how you +were all getting on here." + +"Iss, iss, sure. Wa-al, all right, I s'pose, but I ha'n't a bin let +outside much: Joan won't have it, ye knaw. Poor Joan!" he sighed, "her's +terrible moody-hearted 'bout 't all; and so's Eve too. I never see'd +maids take on as they'm doin'; but there! I reckon 'twill soon be put a +end to now." + +"How so?" said Adam. + +"Wa-al, you mustn't knaw, down below, more than you'm tawld," said the +old man with a significant wink and a jerk of his head, "but Jerrem he +let me into it this ebenin' when he rinned up to see me for a bit. +Seems one o' they sodger-chaps is carr'in' on with Eve, and Jerrem's +settin' her on to rig un up so that her'll get un not to see what +'tain't maned for un to look at." + +"Well?" said Adam. + +"Iss," said Zebedee, "but will it be well? That's what I keeps axin' of +un. He's cock sure, sartain, that they can manage it all. He's sick, he +says, o' all this skulkin', and he's blamed if he'll go on standin' it, +neither." + +"Oh!" hissed Adam, "he's sick of it, is he?" and in the effort he made +to subdue his voice the veins in his face rose up to be purple cords. +"He'd nothing to do with bringing it on us all? it's no fault of his +that the place is turned into a hell and we hunted down like a pack o' +dogs?" + +"Awh, well, I dawn't knaw nuffin 'bout that," said old Zebedee, huffily. +"How so be if 'tis so, when he's got clane off 'twill be all right +agen." + +"All right?" thundered Adam--"how all right? Right that he should get +off and we be left here?--that he shouldn't swing, but we must stay to +suffer?" + +"Awh, come, come, come!" said the old man with the testy impatience of +one ready to argue, but incapable of reasoning. "'Tain't no talk o' +swingin', now: that was a bit o' brag on the boy's part: he's so eager +to save his neck as you or me either. Awnly Jonathan's bin here and +tawld up summat that makes un want to be off to wance, for he says, what +us all knaws, without he's minded to it you can't slip a knot round +Jonathan's clapper; and 'tain't that Jerrem's afeared o' his tongue, +awnly for the keepin' up o' pace and quietness he fancies 'twould be +better for un to make hisself scarce for a bit." + +Adam's whole body quivered as a spasm of rage ran through him; and +Zebedee, noting the trembling movement of his hands, conveyed his +impression of the cause by bestowing a glance, accompanied with a +pantomimic bend of his elbow, in the direction of a certain stone bottle +which stood in the corner. + +"Did Jonathan tell you what word 'twas he'd brought?" Adam managed to +say. + +"Noa: I never cast eyes on un. He warn't here 'bove a foo minits 'fore +he slipped away, none of 'em knaws where or how. He was warned not to go +anighst you," he added after a moment's pause; "so I reckon you knaws no +more of un than us does." + +"And Eve and Joan? were they let into the secret?" asked Adam; and the +sound of his harsh voice grated even on Zebedee's dulled ears. + +"Iss, I reckon," he said, half turning, "'cos Eve's got to do the trick: +her's to bamfoozle the sodger.--Odds rot it, lad!" he cried, startled at +the expression which leaped into Adam's haggard face, "what's come to +'ee that you must turn round 'pon us like that? Is it the maid you's got +a spite agen? Lors! but 'tis a poor stomach you's got to'rds her if +you'm angered by such a bit o' philanderin' as I've tawld 'ee of. What +d'ee mane, then?" he added, his temper rising at such unwarrantable +inconsistency. "I've knawed as honest women as ever her is that's a done +that, and more too, for to get their men safe off and out o' way--iss, +and wasn't thought none the wus of, neither. You'm growed mighty +fancikul all to wance 'bout what us is to do and what us dussn't think +o'. I'm sick o' such talk. 'Taint nawthin' else fra' mornin' to night +but Adam this and Adam that. I'm darned if 'tis to be wondered at if the +maid plays 'ee false: by gosh! I'd do the trick, if I was she, 'fore I'd +put up with such fantads from you or either man like 'ee. So there!" + +Adam did not answer, and old Zebedee, interpreting the silence into an +admission of the force of his arguments, forbore to press the advantage +and generously started a fresh topic. "They's a tawld 'ee, I reckon, +'bout the bill they's a posted up, right afore the winder, by the Three +Pilchards," he said. "Iss," he added, not waiting for an answer, "the +king's pardon and wan hunderd pound to be who'll discover to 'em the man +who 'twas fired the fatal shot. Wan hunderd pound!" he sneered. "That's +a fat lot, surely; and as for t' king's pardon, why 'twudn't lave un +braithin'-time to spend it in--not if he war left here, 'twudn't. No +fear! Us ain't so bad off yet that either wan in Polperro 'ud stink +their fingers wi' blid-money. Lord save un! sich a man 'ud fetch up the +divil hisself to see un pitched head foremost down to bottom o' say, +which 'ud be the end I'd vote for un, and see it was carr'd out +too--iss, tho' his bones bore my own flesh and blid 'pon 'em, I wud;" +and in his anger the old man's rugged face grew distorted with emotion. + +But Adam neither spoke nor made comment on his words. His eyes were +fixed on mid-air, his nostrils worked, his mouth quivered. Within him a +legion of devils seemed to have broken loose, and, sensible of the +mastery they were gaining over him, he leaped up and with the wild +despair of one who catches at a straw to save him from destruction, it +came upon him to rush down and look once more into the face of her whom +he had found so fair and proved so false. + +"What is it you'm goin' to do, then?" said Zebedee, seeing that Adam had +stooped down and was raising the panel by which exit was effected. + +"Goin' to see if the coast's clear," said Adam. + +"Better bide where you be," urged Zebedee. "Joan or they's sure to rin +up so soon as 'tis all safe." + +But Adam paid no heed: muttering something about knowing what he was +about, he slipped up the partition and crept under, cautiously +ascertained that the outer room was empty, and then, crossing the +passage, stole down the stairs. + +The door which led into the room was shut, but through a convenient +chink Adam could take a survey of those within. Already his better self +had begun to struggle in his ear, already the whisper which desire was +prompting asked what if Eve stood there alone and--But no, his glance +had taken in the whole: quick as the lightning's flash the details of +that scene were given to Adam's gaze--Eve, bent forward, standing beside +the door, over whose hatch a stranger's face was thrust, while Joan, +close to the spot where Jerrem still lay hid, clasped her two hands as +if to stay the breath which longed to cry, "He's free!"... The blow +dealt, the firebrand flung, each evil passion quickened into life, +filled with jealousy and mad revenge, Adam turned swiftly round and +backward sped his way. + +"They'm marched off, ain't 'em?" said old Zebedee as, Adam having given +the signal, he drew the panel of the door aside. "I've a bin listenin' +to their trampin' past.--Why, what's the time, lad, eh?--must be close +on break o' day, ain't it?" + +"Just about," said Adam, pushing back the shutter so that he might look +out and see that no one stood near enough to overlook his descent. + +"Why, you bain't goin' agen, be 'ee?" said Zebedee in amazement. "Why, +what for be 'ee hikin' off like this, then--eh, lad?--Lord save us, he's +gone!" he exclaimed as Adam, swinging himself by a dexterous twist on to +the first ledge, let the shutter close behind him. "Wa-al, I'm blamed if +this ain't a rum start! Summat gone wrong with un now. I'll wager he's a +bin tiched up in the bunt somehows, for a guinea; and if so be, 'tis +with wan o' they. They'm all sixes and sebens down below; so I'll lave +'em bide a bit, and hab a tot o' liquor and lie down for a spell. Lord +send 'em to knaw the vally o' pace and quietness! But 'tis wan and all +the same-- + + Friends and faws, + To battle they gaws; + And what they all fights about + Nawbody knaws." + +It was broad daylight when Joan, having once before failed to make her +uncle hear, gave such a vigorous rap that, starting up, the old man +cried, "Ay, ay, mate!" and with all speed unfastened the door. + +Joan crept in and some conversation ensued, in the midst of which, as +the recollection of the events just past occurred to his mind, Zebedee +asked, "What was up with Adam?" + +"With Adam?" echoed Joan. + +"Iss: what made un start off like he did?" + +Joan looked for a minute, then she lifted the stone bottle and shook its +contents. "Why, whatever be 'ee tellin' up?" she said. + +"Tellin' up? Why, you seed un down below, didn't 'ee? Iss you did now." + +Completely puzzled what to think, Joan shook her head. + +"Lor' ha' massy! don't never tell me he didn't shaw hisself. Why, the +sodgers was barely out o' doors 'fore he comes tumblin' in to shutter +there, and after a bit he says, 'I'll just step down below,' he says, +and out he goes; and in a quarter less no time back he comes tappin' +agen, and when I drawed open for un by he pushes, and 'fore I could say +'Knife' he was out and clane off." + +"You haven't a bin dreamin' of it, have 'ee?" said Joan, her face +growing pale with apprehension. + +"Naw, 'tis gospel truth, every ward. I've a had a toothful of liquor +since, and a bit o' caulk, but not a drap more." + +"Jerrem's comin' up into t'other room," said Joan, not wishing to betray +all the alarm she felt: "will 'ee go into un there the whiles I rins +down and says a word to Eve?" + +"Iss," said the old man, "and I'll freshen mysen up a bit with a dash o' +cold watter: happen I may bring some more o' it to my mind then." + +But, his ablutions over and the whole family assembled, Zebedee could +throw no more light on the subject, the recital of which caused so much +anxiety that Joan, yielding to Eve's entreaties, decided to set off with +all speed for Crumplehorne. + +"Mother, Adam's all right? ain't he here still, and safe?" cried Joan, +bursting into the kitchen where Mrs. Tucker, only just risen, was +occupied with her house-duties. + +"Iss, plaise the Lord, and, so far as I knaws of, he is," replied Mrs. +Tucker, greatly startled by Joan's unexpected appearance. "Why, what do +'ee mane, child, eh? But there!" she added starting up, "us'll make sure +to wance and knaw whether 'tis lies or truth we'm tellin'.--Here, Sammy, +off ever so quick as legs can carry 'ee, and climber up and fetch Adam +back with 'ee." + +Sammy started off, and Joan proceeded to communicate the cause of her +uneasiness. + +"Awh, my dear, is that all?" exclaimed Mrs. Tucker, at once pronouncing +sentence on poor old Zebedee's known failing: "then my mind's made easy +agen. There's too much elbow-crookin' 'bout that story for me to set any +hold by it." + +"Do 'ee think so?" said Joan, ready to catch at any straw of hope. + +"Why, iss; and for this reason too. I--" + +But at this moment Sammy appeared, and, without waiting for him to +speak, the two women uttered a cry as they saw in his face a +confirmation of their fears. "Iss, 'tis every ward true; he's a gone +shure 'nuf," exclaimed Sammy; "but by his own accord, I reckon, 'cos +there ain't no signs o' nothin' bein' open 'ceptin 'tis the hatch over +by t' mill-wheel." + +"Awh, mother," cried Joan, "whatever can be the manin' of it? My poor +heart's a sinkin' down lower than iver. Oh Lord! if they should ha' +cotched un, anyways!" + +"Now, doan't 'ee take on like that, Joan," said Mrs. Tucker. "'Tis like +temptin' o' Providence to do such like. I'll be bound for't he's safe +home alongst afore now: he ain't like wan to act wild and go steppin' +into danger wi' both his eyes wide open." + +The possibility suggested, and Joan was off again, back on her way to +Polperro, too impatient to wait while her mother put on her bonnet to +accompany her. + +At the door stood Eve, breathless expectation betraying itself in her +every look and gesture. Joan shook her head, while Eve's finger, quick +laid upon her lip, warned her to be cautious. + +"They're back," she muttered as Joan came up close: "they've just +marched past and gone down to the quay." + +"What for?" cried Joan. + +"I don't know. Run and see, Joan: everybody's flocking that way." + +Joan ran down the street, and took her place among a mob of people +watching with eager interest the movements of a soldier who, with much +unnecessary parade and delay, was taking down the bill of reward posted +outside the Three Pilchards. A visible anticipation of the effect about +to be produced stirred the small red-coated company, and they wheeled +round so as to take note of any sudden emotion produced by the surprise +they felt sure awaited the assembly. + +"Whatever is it, eh?" asked Joan, trying to catch a better sight of what +was going on. + +"They'm stickin' up a noo reward, 't seems," said an old man close by. +"'Tain't no--" + +But the swaying back of the crowd carried Joan with it. A surge forward, +and then on her ear fell a shrill cry, and as the name of Jerrem +Christmas started from each mouth a hundred eyes seemed turned upon her. +For a moment the girl stood dazed, staring around like some wild animal +at bay: then, flinging out her arms, she forced those near her aside, +and rushing forward to the front made a desperate clutch at the soldier. +"Speak! tell me! what's writ there?" she cried. + +"Writ there?" said the man, startled by the scared face that was turned +up to him. "Why, the warrant to seize for murder Jerrem Christmas, +living or dead, on the king's evidence of Adam Pascal." + +And the air was rent by a cry of unutterable woe, caught up by each +voice around, and coming back in echoes from far and near long after +Joan lay a senseless heap on the stones upon which she had fallen. + + _The Author of "Dorothy Fox."_ + +[TO BE CONTINUED.] + + + + +SEVEN WEEKS A MISSIONARY. + + +The sights of Honolulu had not lost their novelty--the tropical foliage +of palm, banana, bread-fruit, monkey-pod and algaroba trees; the +dark-skinned, brightly-clad natives with flowers on their heads, who +walked with bare feet and stately tread along the shady sidewalks or +tore through the streets on horseback; the fine stone or wooden +residences with wide cool verandas, or humbler native huts surrounded by +walls of coral-rock instead of fences; the deep indigo-blue ocean on one +hand and the rich green mountains on the other, dripping with moisture +and alternately dark and bright with the gloom of clouds and the glory +of rainbows, still wore for me their original freshness and +interest--when I received an urgent request to come to Waialua, a little +village on the other side of the island. My host, to whom the note was +addressed, explained to me that there was a mission-school at that +place, a seminary for native girls. It was conducted by Miss G----, the +daughter of one of the missionaries who first came to the Hawaiian +Islands fifty years before. She had been sent to this country to be +educated, like most of the children of the early missionaries, and had +returned to devote herself to the mental, moral and physical welfare of +the native girls--a task which she was now accomplishing with all the +fervor, devotion and self-sacrifice of a Mary Lyon. + +At this juncture she had forty-five girls, from six to eighteen, under +her care, and but one assistant. The English teacher who had assisted +her for several years had lately married, and the place was still +vacant. She wrote to my host, saying that she had heard there was a +teacher from California at his house, and begging me, through him, to +come and help her a few weeks. I signified my willingness to go, and in +a few days Miss G----, accompanied by a native girl, came on horseback +to meet me and conduct me to Waialua. A gentleman of Honolulu, his +sister and a native woman called Maria, who were going to Waialua and +beyond, joined us, so that our party consisted of six. We were variously +mounted, on horses of different appearance and disposition, and carried +our luggage and lunch in saddle-bags strapped on behind. Maria's outfit +especially interested me. It was the usual costume for native women, and +consisted of a long flowing black garment called a _holoku_, gathered +into a yoke at the shoulders and falling unconfined to her bare feet. +Around her neck she wore a bright red silk handkerchief, and on her head +a straw hat ornamented with a _lei_, or wreath of fresh, fragrant +flowers, orange or jasmine. Men, women and children wear these wreaths, +either on their heads or around their necks. Sometimes they consist +of the bright yellow _ilimu_-flowers or brilliant scarlet +pomegranate-blossoms strung on a fibre of the banana-stalk--sometimes +they are woven of ferns or of a fragrant wild vine called _maile_. Maria +was seated astride on a wiry little black horse, and instead of slipping +her bare feet into the stirrups she clasped the irons with her toes. +Besides her long, flowing black dress she wore a width of bright +red-flowered damask tied around her waist, caught into the stirrup on +either side and flowing a yard or two behind. + +Waialua, our destination, was about a third of the way around the +island, but the road, instead of following the sea-coast all the way, +took a short cut across an inland plateau, so that the distance was but +twenty-seven miles. We started about one o'clock in the afternoon, the +hour when the streets are least frequented, and rode past the shops and +stores shaded with awnings, past the bazaars where sea-shells and white +and pink coral are offered for sale, through the fish-market where +shellfish and hideous-looking squid and bright fish, colored like +rainbows or the gayest tropical parrots, lay on little tables or floated +in tanks of sea-water. Men with bundles of green grass or hay for sale +made way for us as we passed, and the fat, short-legged dogs scattered +right and left. + +Although it was December, the air was warm and balmy, tree and fruit and +flower were in the glory of endless summer, and the ladies seated on +verandas or swinging in hammocks wore white dresses. For one who dreads +harsh, cold winters the climate of Honolulu is perfection. At the end of +King street we crossed a long bridge over the river, which at that point +widens out into a marsh bordered by reeds and rushes. Here we saw a +number of native canoes resting on poles above the water. They were +about twenty feet long and quite narrow, being hollowed out of +tree-trunks. An outrigger attached to one side serves to balance them in +the water. A fine smooth road built on an embankment of stone and earth +leads across this marsh to a strip of higher land near the sea where the +prison buildings stand. They are of gray stone, with miniature towers, +surrounded by a wall capped with stone, the whole surmounted by a tower +from which waves the Hawaiian flag. In front is a smooth lawn where grow +century-plants and ornamental shrubs, including the India-rubber tree. +It is much finer than the so-called palace of the king, a many-roomed, +one-story wooden cottage in the centre of the city, surrounded by a +large grassy yard enclosed by a high wall. + +The land beyond the marshes is planted in _taro_ and irrigated by a +network of streams. Taro is the principal article of food used by the +natives: the root, which looks somewhat like a gray sweet potato, is +made into a paste called _poi_, and the tops are eaten as greens. The +plant grows about two feet high, and has an arrow-shaped leaf larger +than one's hand. Like rice, it grows in shallow pools of water, and a +patch of it looks like an inundated garden. As we passed along we saw +half-clad natives standing knee-deep in mud and water pulling the +full-grown plants or putting in young ones. Reaching higher ground, we +cantered along a hard, smooth road bordered with short green grass. On +either side were dwellings of wood surrounded by broad-leafed banana +trees, with here and there a little shop for the sale of fruit. This is +a suburb of Honolulu and is called Kupalama. We met a number of natives +on horseback going into town, the men dressed in shirts and trousers of +blue or white cotton cloth, the women wearing the long loose gowns I +have described. + +At last we reached the open country, and started fairly on our long +ride. On our left was the ocean with "league-long rollers thundering on +the reef:" on our right, a few miles away, was a line of mountains, +divided into numerous spurs and peaks by deep valleys richly clothed in +tropical verdure. The country about us was uncultivated and generally +open, but here and there were straggling lines of low stone walls +overgrown with a wild vine resembling our morning-glory, the masses of +green leaves starred with large pink flowers. The algaroba, a graceful +tree resembling the elm, grew along the roadside, generally about +fifteen feet high. In Honolulu, where they are watered and cared for, +these trees attain a height of thirty or forty feet, sending forth long +swaying branches in every direction and forming beautiful shade trees. +Now and then we crossed water-courses, where the banks were carpeted +with short green grass and bordered with acacia-bushes covered with +feathery leaves and a profusion of yellow ball-shaped flowers that +perfumed the air with their fragrance. The view up and down these +winding flower-bordered streams was lovely. We rode for miles over this +monotonous country, gradually rising to higher ground. Suddenly, almost +at our very feet, a little bowl-shaped valley about half a mile in +circumference opened to view. The upper rim all around was covered with +smooth green grass, and the sides were hidden by the foliage of +dark-green mango trees, light-green _kukui_, bread-fruit and banana. +Coffee had formerly been cultivated here, and a few bushes still grew +wild, bearing fragrant white flowers or bright red berries. Through the +bottom of the valley ran a little stream, and on its banks were three or +four grass huts beneath tufts of tall cocoanut palms. Several +scantily-clad children rolled about on the ground, and in the shade of a +tamarind tree an old gray-headed man was pounding taro-root. The gray +mass lay before him on a flat stone, and he pounded it with a stone +pestle, then dipped his hands into a calabash of water and kneaded it. A +woman was bathing in the stream, and another stood at the door of one of +the huts holding her child on her hip. + +We passed through three other deep valleys like this, and in every case +they opened suddenly to view--hidden nests of tropical foliage and +color. The natives were seated in circles under the trees eating poi, or +wading in the stream looking for fish, or lounging on the grass near +their huts as though life were one long holiday. + +Now we entered a vast sunburnt plain overgrown with huge thorny cactus +twelve or fifteen feet high. Without shade or water or verdure it +stretched before us to distant table-lands, upholding mountains whose +peaks were veiled in cloud. The solitude of the plain was rendered more +impressive by the absence of wild creatures of any kind: there were no +birds nor insects nor ground-squirrels nor snakes. The cactus generally +grew in clumps, but sometimes it formed a green prickly wall on either +side of the road, between which we had to pass as between the bayonets +of sentinels. Wherever the road widened out we clattered along, six +abreast, at full speed. Maria, the native woman, presented a picturesque +appearance with her black dress and long flowing streamers of bright +red. She was an elderly woman--perhaps fifty years old--but as active as +a young girl, and a good rider. She had an unfailing fund of good-humor, +and talked and laughed a great deal. My other companions, with the +exception of the native girl, were children of early missionaries, and +enlivened the journey by many interesting incidents of island life. At +last we crossed the cactus desert, ascended an eminence, and then sank +into a valley grand and deep, shut in by walls carved in fantastic shape +by the action of water. Our road was a narrow pathway, paved with +stone, that wound down the face of the cliff. The natives call this +place Ki-pa-pa, which signifies "paved way." + +As we were making the descent on one side we saw a party of natives on +horseback winding down on the opposite. First rode three men, single +file, with children perched in front of them, then three or four women +in black or gay-colored holokus, then a boy who led two pack-mules laden +with large baskets. All wore wreaths of ferns or flowers. When we met +they greeted us with a hearty "_Aloha!_" ("Love to you!"), and in reply +to a question in Hawaiian said that they were going to Honolulu with +fresh fish, bananas and oranges. + +We climbed the rocky pathway rising out of the valley, and found +ourselves on the high table-land toward which we had shaped our course. +It was smooth as a floor and covered with short rich grass. Instead of a +broad road there were about twenty parallel paths stretching on before +us as far as we could see, furrowed by the feet of horses and +pack-mules. Miles away on either side was a line of lofty mountains +whose serrated outlines were sharply defined against the evening sky. +Darkness overtook us on this plateau, and the rest of the journey is a +confused memory of steep ravines down whose sides we cautiously made our +way, torrents of foaming water which we forded, expanses of dark plain, +and at last the murmur of the ocean on the reef. After reaching +sea-level again we passed between acres and acres of taro-patches where +the water mirrored the large bright stars and the arrow-shaped leaves +cast sharp-pointed shadows. We rode through the quiet little village of +Waialua, sleeping beneath the shade of giant pride-of-India and kukui +trees, without meeting any one, and forded the Waialua River just where +it flows over silver sands into the sea. As we paused to let our horses +drink I looked up at the cluster of cocoanut palms that grew upon the +bank, and noticed how distinctly each feathery frond was pencilled +against the sky, then down upon the placid river and out upon the gently +murmuring sea, and thought that I had never gazed upon a more peaceful +scene. Little did I think that it would soon be associated with danger +and dismay. Beyond the river were two or three native huts thatched with +grass, and a little white cottage, the summer home of Princess Lydia, +the king's sister. Passing these, we rode over a smooth green lawn +glittering with large bright dewdrops, and dismounted in front of the +seminary-gate. The large whitewashed brick house, two stories and a half +high, with wide verandas around three sides, looks toward the sea. In +front of it is a garden filled with flowers and vines and shrubbery, the +pride and care of the school-girls. There are oleander trees with +rose-colored blossoms, pomegranate trees whose flowers glow amid the +dark-green foliage like coals of fire, and orange and lime trees covered +with fragrant white flowers, which the girls string and wear around +their necks. Besides roses, heliotrope, geraniums, sweet-pea, nasturtium +and other familiar flowers, there are fragrant Japanese lilies, and also +plants and shrubs from the Micronesian Islands. On one side is a grove +of tamarind and kukui-nut trees, mingled with tall cocoanut palms, which +stretches to the deep, still river, a few rods away: on the other is the +school-house, a two-story frame, painted white, shaded by tall +pride-of-India trees and backed by a field of corn. My room opened on a +veranda shaded with kukui trees, and as the "coo-coo-ee coo-coo-ee" of +the doves in the branches came to my ears I thought that the trees had +received their name from the notes of the doves, but afterward learnt +that _kukui_ in the Hawaiian language meant "light," and that the nuts, +being full of oil, were strung on bamboo poles by the natives and used +as torches. + +The morning after my arrival I saw the girls at breakfast, and found +them of all shades of complexion from deep chocolate-brown to white. +Their glossy black hair, redolent of cocoanut oil, was ornamented with +fresh flowers, and their bright black eyes danced with fun or languished +with sullen scorn. The younger ones were bright and happy in their +expression, but the older ones seemed already to realize the curse that +rests upon their decaying race, and to move with melancholy languor, as +if brooding over it in stifled rebellion or resigned apathy. Some would +be called beautiful anywhere: they were graceful in form, had fine +regular features and lovely, expressive eyes; others were attractive +only on account of their animation; while one comical little negro girl, +who had somehow got mixed with the Malay race, was as ugly as a +Hottentot, and a veritable imp of darkness, as I afterward learned, so +far as mischief was concerned. The girls were dressed in calico, and +wore no shoes or stockings. When they had eaten their beef and poi, and +we had finished our breakfast, each girl got her Hawaiian Testament and +read a verse: then Miss G----, the principal, offered prayer in the same +language. When this was over the routine work of the day began. Some of +the older girls remained in the dining-room to put away the food, wash +the dishes and sweep the floor; one went to the kitchen to wash the pots +and pans; and the younger ones dispersed to various tasks--to sweep and +dust the parlor, the sitting-room or the school-room, to gather up the +litter of leaves and branches from the yard and garden-paths, or to put +the teachers' rooms in order. The second floor and attic, both filled +with single beds covered with mosquito-netting, were the girls' +dormitories. Each girl was expected to make her own bed and hang up her +clothes or put them away in her trunk. A _luna_, or overseer, in each +dormitory superintended this work, and reported any negligence on the +part of a girl to one of the teachers. + +Miss G---- was the life and soul of the institution--principal and +housekeeper and accountant, all in one. She had a faithful and devoted +assistant in Miss P----, a young woman of twenty-two, the daughter of a +missionary then living in Honolulu. My duties were to teach classes in +English in the forenoon and to oversee the sewing and some departments +of housekeeping in the afternoon. Miss P---- had the smaller children, +Miss G---- taught the larger ones in Hawaiian and gave music-lessons. + +The routine of the school-room from nine to twelve in the forenoon and +from one till four in the afternoon was that of any ordinary school, +except that the girls who prepared the meals were excused earlier than +the others. One day in the week was devoted to washing and ironing down +on the river-bank and in the shade of the tamarind trees. + +The girls had to be taught many things besides the lessons in their +books. At home they slept on mats on the floor, ate poi out of +calabashes with their fingers and wore only the holoku. Here they were +required to eat at table with knife and fork and spoon, to sleep in beds +and to adopt the manners and customs of civilization. Now and then, as a +special privilege, they asked to be allowed to eat "native fashion," and +great was their rejoicing and merrymaking as they sat, crowned with +flowers, on the veranda-floor and ate poi and raw fish with their +fingers, and talked Hawaiian. They were required to talk English usually +until the four-o'clock bell sounded in the afternoon. From that until +supper-time they were allowed to talk native, and their tongues ran +fast. + +On Wednesday afternoons the girls went to bathe in the river, and on +Saturday afternoons to bathe in the sea. It usually fell to my lot to +accompany them. The river, back of the house a few rods, had steep banks +ten or fifteen feet high and a deep, still current. The girls would +start to run as soon as they left the house, race with each other all +the way and leap from the bank into the river below. Presently their +heads would appear above water, and, laughing and blowing and shaking +the drops from their brown faces, they would swim across the river. The +older girls could dive and swim under water for some distance. They had +learned to swim as soon as they had learned to walk. They sometimes +brought up fish in their hands, and one girl told me that her father +could dive and bring up a fish in each hand and one in his mouth. The +little silver-fish caught in their dress-skirts they ate raw. The girls +were always glad when the time came to go swimming in the sea, for they +were very fond of a green moss which grew on the reef, and the whole +crowd would sit on rocks picking and eating it while the spray dashed +over them. + +_Waialua_ means "the meeting of the waters," or, literally, "two +waters," and the place is named from the perpetual flow and counterflow +of the river and the ocean tide. The river pours into the sea, the sea +at high tide surges up the river, beating back its waters, and the foam +and spray of the contending floods are dashed high into the air, +bedewing the cluster of cocoanut palms that stand on the bank above +watching this perpetual conflict. In calm weather and at low tide there +is a truce between the waters, and the river flows calmly into the sea; +but immediately after a storm, when the river is flooded with rains from +the mountains and the sea hurls itself upon the reef with a shock and a +roar, then the antagonism between the meeting waters is at its height +and the clash and uproar of their fury are great. + +Sometimes we went on picnic excursions to places in the neighborhood--to +the beach of Waiamea, a mile or two distant, where thousands of pretty +shells lay strewn upon the sand and branches of white coral could be had +for the picking up, or to the orange-groves and indigo-thickets on the +mountain-sides, where large sweet oranges ripened, coming back wreathed +with ferns and the fragrant vine maile. + +But we had plenty of oranges without going after them. For half a dollar +we could buy a hundred large fine oranges from the natives, who brought +them to the door, and we usually kept a tin washing-tub full of the +delicious fruit on hand. A _real_ (twelve and a half cents) would buy a +bunch of bananas so heavy that it took two of us to lift it to the hook +in the veranda-ceiling, and limes and small Chinese oranges grew +plentifully in the front yard. Of cocoanuts and tamarinds we made no +account, they were so common. Guavas grew wild on bushes in the +neighborhood, and made delicious pies. For vegetables we had taro, sweet +potatoes and something that tasted just like summer squash, but which +grew in thick, pulpy clusters on a tree. The taro was brought to us +just as it was pulled, roots and nodding green tops, and of the donkey +who was laden with it little showed but his legs and his ears as his +master led him up to the gate. Another old man furnished boiled and +pounded taro, which the girls mixed with water and made into poi. He +brought it in large bundles wrapped in broad green banana-leaves and +tied with fibres of the stalk. He had two daughters in the school, and +always inquired about their progress in their studies. One day, +happening to look out of the front door, I saw him coming up the +garden-walk. He had nothing on but a shirt and a _malo_ (a strip of +cloth) about his loins: the malo was all that the natives formerly wore. +Neither the girls who were weeding their garden, nor the other teachers +who were at work in the parlor, seemed to think that there was anything +remarkable in his appearance. He talked with Miss G---- as usual about +the supply of taro for the school, and inquired how his girls were +doing. When he was going away she said, "Uncle, why do you not wear your +clothes when you come to see us? I thought you had laid aside the +heathen fashion." He replied that he had but one suit of clothes, and +that he must save them to wear to church, adding that he was anxious to +give his daughters an education, and must economize in some way in order +to pay for their schooling. + +The fuel needed for cooking was brought down from the mountains by the +native boy who milked the cows for us and took Calico, Miss G----'s +riding horse, to water and to pasture. One day, when one of the girls +had started a fire in the stove, a fragrance like incense diffused +itself through the house. Hastening to the kitchen, I pulled out a +half-burned piece of sandal-wood and put it away in my collection of +shells and island curiosities. A few days afterward an old native man +named Ka-hu-kai (Sea-shore), who lived in one of the grass huts near the +front gate, came to sell me a piece of fragrant wood of another kind. He +had learned that I attached a value to such things, and expected to get +a good price. He inquired for the _wahine haole_ (foreign woman), and +presented his bit of wood, saying that he would sell it for a dollar. I +declined to purchase. He walked down through the garden and across the +lawn, but paused at the big gate for several minutes, then retraced his +steps. Holding out the wood again, he said, "This is my thought: you may +have it for a real." I gave him a real, and he went away satisfied. + +Every Sunday we crossed the bridge that spanned Waialua River near the +ford, and made our way to the huge old-fashioned mission-church, which +stood in an open field surrounded by prickly pears six or eight feet +high. The thorny prickly pears were stiff and ungraceful, but a delicate +wild vine grew all over them and hung in festoons from the top. While +Pai-ku-li, the native minister, preached a sermon in Hawaiian, I, not +understanding a word, looked at the side pews where the old folks sat, +and tried to picture the life they had known in their youth, when the +great Kamehameha reigned. In the pew next to the side door sat Mr. +Sea-shore, straight and solemn as a deacon, and his wife, a fat old +woman with a face that looked as if it had been carved out of knotty +mahogany, but which was irradiated with an expression of kindness and +good-nature. She wore a long black holoku, and on her head was perched a +little sailor hat with a blue ribbon round it, which would have been +suitable for a girl six or eight years old, but which looked decidedly +comical and out of place on Mrs. Sea-shore. She was barefooted, as I +presently saw. Two or three times during the sermon a red-eyed, +dissipated-looking dog with a baked taro-root in his mouth had come to +the door, and seemed about to enter, but Mrs. Sea-shore, without +disturbing the devotions, had kept him back by threatening gestures. But +when the minister began to pray and nearly every head was bowed, the dog +came sneaking in. Mrs. Sea-shore happened to raise her head, and saw +him. Drawing back her holoku, she extended her bare foot and planted a +vigorous kick in his ribs, exclaiming at the same time in an explosive +whisper, "Hala palah!" ("Get out!" or "Begone!") The dog went forth +howling, and did not return. + +A few days later Miss G----'s shoulder was sprained by a fall from her +horse, and she sent for Mrs. Sea-shore. The old woman came and +_lomi-lomi_-ed the shoulder--kneaded it with her hands--until the pain +and stiffness were gone, then extracted the oil from some kukui-nuts by +chewing them and applied it to the sprain. All the time she kept up a +chatter in Hawaiian, talking, asking questions and showing her white +teeth in hearty, good-humored laughs. In answer to the questions I put +to her through Miss G----, she told us much about her early life, the +superstitions and _taboos_ that forbade men and women to eat together +and imposed many meaningless and foolish restrictions, and about her +children, who had died and gone to Po, the great shadowy land, where, as +she once believed, their spirits had been eaten by the gods. We formed +quite a friendship for each other, and she came often to see me, but +would not come into the house any farther than the veranda or front +hall, and there, refusing our offer of a chair, she would sit on the +floor. I spoke of going to see her in return, but she said that her +house was not good enough to receive me, and begged me not to come. Just +before I left Waialua she brought a mat she had woven out of the long +leaves of the pandanus or screw pine, a square of _tappa_, or native +cloth, as large as a sheet, made from the bark of a tree, and the +tappa-pounder she had made it with (a square mallet with different +patterns cut on each of the four faces), and gave them to me. I offered +her money in return, but she refused it, saying she had given the things +out of _aloha_, or love for me. On my return to Honolulu I got the most +gorgeous red silk Chinese handkerchief that could be found in Ah Fong +and Ah Chuck's establishment and sent it to her, and Miss G---- wrote me +that she wore it round her neck at church every Sunday. + +One of my duties was to go through the dormitories the last thing at +night, and see that the doors were fastened and that the girls had their +mosquito-netting properly arranged, and were not sleeping with their +heads under the bedclothes. A heathen superstition, of which they were +half ashamed, still exercised an influence over them, and they were +afraid that the spirits of their dead relatives would come back from Po +and haunt them in the night. They would not confess to this fear, but +many of them, ruled by it, covered their heads with the bedclothes every +night. In my rounds, besides clouds of bloodthirsty mosquitos, I +frequently saw centipedes crawling along the floor or wall or up the +netting, and sometimes a large tarantula would dart forth from his +hiding-place in some nook or corner. The centipedes were often six or +seven inches long. They were especially numerous during or immediately +after rainy weather. Little gray and green lizards (_mo-o_) glided about +the verandas, but they were harmless. Scorpions are common in the +islands, but we were not troubled with them. They frequent hot, dry +places like sandbanks, and are often found in piles of lumber. + +We had fine views of the scenery as we passed to and fro between the +main building and the school-house--the sea, fringed with cocoanut +palms; the fertile level plain, dotted with trees, on which the village +stood; and the green mountains, whose tops were generally dark with +rainclouds or brightened with bits of rainbows. It seemed to be always +raining in that mysterious mountainous centre of the islands which human +foot has never crossed, but it was usually clear and bright at +sea-level. After an unusually hard rain we could see long, flashing +white waterfalls hanging, like ribbons of silver, down the sides of the +green cliffs. From the attic-windows the best view of the bay could be +obtained, and it was my delight to lean out of them like "a blessed +damosel" half an hour at a time, gazing seaward and drinking in the +beauty of the scene. Waialua Bay was shaped like a half moon, the tips +of which were distant headlands, and the curve was the yellow, +palm-fringed beach. Into this crescent-shaped reach of water rolled +great waves from the outside ocean, following each other in regular +stately order with a front of milk-white foam and a veil of mist flying +backward several yards from the summit. The Hawaiian name for this place +is E-hu-kai (Sea-mist), and it is appropriately named, for the floating +veils of the billows keep the surface of the entire bay dim with mist. +Gazing long upon the scene, my eyes would be dazzled with color--the +intense blue of the sky and the water, the bright yellow of the sand, +the dark rich green of the trees, and, looking into the garden below, +the flame-scarlet blossoms of the pomegranates, the rose-pink flowers of +the oleanders and the cream-white clusters of the limes and oranges. + +It seemed a land for poetry, for romance, for day-dreaming, and the +transition from the attic-window to the prosaic realities of house and +school-room work was like a sudden awakening. I was destined before +leaving the place to have a still more violent awakening to the reality +that underlies appearances. Nature in these beautiful islands is fair +and lovely, but deceitful. During long months of sunny weather the waves +gently kiss the shore, the green slopes smile, the mountains decorate +themselves with cloud-wreaths and rainbows; but there comes a dreadful +day when the green and flowery earth yawns in horrid chasms, when Mauna +Loa trembles and belches forth torrents of blood-red lava, when the +ocean, receding from the shore, returns in a tidal wave that sweeps to +the top of the palms on the beach and engulfs the people and their +homes. + +And the human nature here is somewhat similar. The Hawaiians are +pleasing in form and feature, graceful, polite, fond of music and +dancing and wreathing themselves with flowers, and possess withal a deep +fund of poetry, which finds expression in their own names, the names +they have bestowed upon waterfalls and valleys and green peaks and +sea-cliffs, and in the _meles_ or native songs which commemorate events +of personal interest or national importance. But they too have their +volcanic outbursts, their seasons of fury and destruction. The last +public display of this side of their character was on the occasion of +the election of the present king. The supporters of Queen Emma, the +defeated candidate, burst into the court-house, broke the heads of the +electors or threw them bodily out of the windows, and raised a riot in +the streets of Honolulu which was quelled only by the assistance of the +crews of the men-of-war then in the harbor--the English ship Tenedos and +the United States vessels Portsmouth and Tuscarora. + +I come now to the rebellion which broke forth in Waialua school when I +had been there three weeks. A month or two before one of the +school-girls had died after a brief illness. The old heathen +superstition about praying to Death had been revived by the lower class +of natives in the place, who were not friendly to the school, and had +been transmitted by them to the older girls. While yet ignorant of this +I had noticed the scowls and dark looks, the reluctant obedience and +manifest distrust, of ten or twelve girls from fifteen to eighteen, the +leaders in the school. The younger girls were affectionate and obedient: +they brought flowers from their gardens and wove wreaths for us; they +lomi-lomi-ed our hands and feet when we were sitting at rest; if they +neglected their tasks or broke any of the taboos of the school, it was +through the carelessness of childhood. But it seemed impossible to gain +the confidence of the older girls. + +One day Miss P----, the assistant teacher, received word that her father +was quite sick, and immediately set out for Honolulu on horseback. Miss +G----and I carried on the work of the school as well as we could. A day +or two after Miss P---- left a tropical storm burst upon us. It seemed +as if the very heavens were opened. The rain fell in torrents and the +air was filled with the flying branches of trees. This continued a day +and a night. The next day, Sunday, the rain and wind ceased, but sullen +clouds still hung overhead, and there was an oppressive stillness and +languor in the air. Within, there was something of the same atmosphere: +the tropical nature of the girls seemed to be in sympathy with the +stormy elements. They were silent and sullen and brooding. The bridge +over Waialua had been washed away, and we could not go to church. The +oppressive day passed and was succeeded by a similar one. The older +girls cast dark looks upon us as they reluctantly went through the round +of school- and house-work. At night the explosion occurred. All the +girls were at the usual study-hour in the basement dining-room. It was +Miss G----'s turn to sit with them: I was in the sitting-room directly +above. Suddenly I heard a loud yell, a sound as of scuffling and Miss +G----'s quick tones of command. The next moment I was down stairs. There +stood Miss G---- in the middle of the room holding Elizabeth Aukai, one +of the largest and worst girls, by the wrist. The girl's head was bent +and her teeth were buried in Miss G----'s hand. The heathen had burst +forth, the volcanic eruption and earthquake had come. I tried to pull +her off, but she was as strong as an ox. Loosening her hold directly and +hurling us off, she poured forth a flood of abuse in Hawaiian. She +reviled the teachers and all the cursed foreigners who were praying her +people to death. The Hawaiian language has no "swear words," but it is +particularly rich in abusive and reviling epithets, and these were +freely heaped upon us. She ended her tirade by saying, "You shall not +pray us to death, you wicked, black-hearted foreigners!" and her +companions answered with a yell. Then, snatching up a lamp, they ran up +stairs to their sleeping-rooms, screaming and laughing and singing +native songs that had been forbidden in the school, and, taking their +shawls and Sunday dresses from their trunks, they arrayed themselves in +all their finery and began dancing an old heathen dance which is taboo +among the better class of natives and only practised in secret by the +more degraded class of natives and half-whites. + +It sounded like Bedlam let loose. The little girls, frightened and +crying, and a half-white girl of seventeen, Miss G----'s adopted +daughter, remained with us. We put the younger children to bed in their +sleeping-room, which was on the first floor, and held a council +together. "One of us must cross the river and bring Pai-ku-li" (the +native minister), said Miss G----. "He is Elizabeth Aukai's +guardian--she is his wife's niece--and he can control her if anybody +can, and break the hold of this superstition on the girls' minds. +Nothing that we can say or do will do any good while they are in this +frenzy. Which of us shall go?" + +The bridge was washed away; there was no boat; Miss P---- had taken the +only horse to go to Honolulu. Whoever went must ford the river. Like +Lord Ullin's daughter, who would meet the raging of the skies, but not +an angry father, I was less afraid to go than to stay, and volunteered +to bring Pai-ku-li. + +"Li-li-noe shall go with you," said Miss G----: "she is a good swimmer, +and can find the best way through the river." + +Just then the whole crowd of girls came screaming and laughing down the +stairs, swept through the sitting-room, mocking and insulting Miss +G----, then went back up the other flight of stairs, which led to the +teachers' rooms and was taboo to the school-girls. They were anxious to +break as many rules as possible. + +With a lighted lantern hidden between us Li-li-noe and I stole down +through the flower-garden and across the lawn. We were anxious to keep +the girls in ignorance of our absence, lest they should attempt some +violence to Miss G---- while we were gone. Stealing quietly past the +grass huts of the natives, we approached the place where the bridge had +been, and brought forth our lantern to shed light on the water-soaked +path. Just ahead the surf showed through the darkness white and +threatening, and beyond was the ocean, dim heaving in the dusk. The +clash and roar of the meeting waters filled the air, and we were +sprinkled by the flying spray as we stood debating on the river's edge. +Li-li-noe stepped down into the water to find, if possible, a place +shallow enough to ford, but at the first step she disappeared up to her +shoulders. "That will never do," she said, clambering back: "you cannot +cross there." + +"Can we cross above the bridge?" I asked. + +"No: the water is ten feet deep there; it is shallower toward the sea." + +"Then let us try there;" and into the water we went, Li-li-noe first. It +was not quite waist-deep, and in calm weather there would have been no +danger, but now the current of the river and the tide of the inrushing +sea swept back and forth with the force of a whirlpool. We had got to +the middle when a great wave, white with foam, came roaring toward us +from the ocean. Li-li-noe threw herself forward and began to swim. For a +moment there were darkness and the roar of many waters around me, and my +feet were almost swept from under me. Looking upward at the cloudy sky +and the tall cocoanut trees on the bank, I thought of the home and +friends I might never see again. The bitter salt water wet my face, +quenched the light and carried away my shawl, but the wave returned +without carrying me out to sea. Then above the noise of the waters I +heard Li-li-noe's voice calling to me from the other shore, and just as +another wave surged in I reached her side and sank down on the sand. +After resting a few moments we rose and began picking our way toward the +village, half a mile distant. Our route led along a narrow path between +the muddy, watery road on one side and a still more muddy, watery +taro-patch on the other. Without a light to guide our steps, we slipped, +now with one foot into the road, now with the other into the taro-patch, +and by the time we emerged into the level cactus-field around the church +we were covered with mud to our knees. + +Pai-ku-li lived nearly a mile beyond the village, but close by the +church lived Mrs. W----, whose place I had taken as English teacher in +the school. We knocked at her door to beg for a light, and when she +found what the matter was she made us come in, muddy and dripping as we +were, and put on some dry clothes, while her husband, pulling on his +boots, went for Pai-ku-li. She begged me to stay all night, saying that +she would not trust her life with the girls at such a time--they might +attempt to poison us or to burn the house down--but I thanked her for +her hospitality and lighted our lantern, and we started back as soon as +Mr. W---- returned saying that Pai-ku-li would come. We listened for +the sound of his horse's feet, for we had planned to ride across the +river, one at a time, behind Pai-ku-li, but he did not overtake us, and +we waited at the river nearly half an hour. One span of the bridge +remained, and as we stood on it waiting, listening to the flapping of +the cocoanut fronds in the night wind and the hoarse murmuring and +occasional roar of the ocean, I thought of that line of Longfellow's-- + + I stood on the bridge at midnight-- + +and laughed to myself at the contrast between the poetical and the +actual. Still, Pai-ku-li did not come, and, growing anxious on Miss +G----'s account, we resolved to cross as we had before. Again we went +down into the cold flood, again our light was quenched and our feet +nearly swept from under us, but we reached the opposite side in safety. +As we crossed the lawn we saw every window lighted, and knew by the +sounds of yelling and singing and laughing that the girls were still +raving. Miss G---- sat quietly in the parlor. She had been up stairs to +try to reason with the girls, but they drowned her voice with hooting +and reviling. Pai-ku-li came a little later, but he had no better +success. He remained with us that night and all the next day. The +screaming up stairs continued till two or three o'clock at night, and +began again as soon as the first girl woke. Early next morning a fleet +messenger started to Honolulu, and just at dusk two gentlemen, the +sheriff and Mr. P----, who was Miss G----'s brother-in-law and president +of the board of trustees of Waialua Seminary, rode up on foaming horses. +A court was held in the school-room, many natives--a few of the better +class who disapproved of the rebellion, and more of the lower class who +upheld the rebels--being present as spectators, but no one interrupting +the prompt and stern proceedings of Mr. P----. Elizabeth Aukai was +whipped on her bare feet and legs below the knee until she burst out +crying and begged for mercy and asked Miss G----'s forgiveness for +biting her. Then she and the other rebels were expelled, and the +sheriff took them away that night. Those who lived on other islands were +sent home by the first schooner leaving Honolulu. Thus ended the +rebellion at Waialua school. + +The remaining month of my stay passed in peace and quietness. The need +for my assistance was less after the expulsion of so many girls, but I +remained in order that Miss G---- might take a short vacation and the +rest she so much needed. During her absence Miss P---- and I carried on +the school. A few days after the storm a little native boy brought to +the seminary the shawl which had been washed from my shoulders the night +I went through the river. He had found it lying on the beach half a mile +below the ford. It had been washed out to sea and returned again by the +waves. After that we called it "the travelled shawl." Every Monday +morning the toot of the postman's horn was heard in the village, and one +of us immediately went across to get the mail. The bridge being gone, we +had to wade the river at the shallowest place, near the sea. When I +waded across on such occasions I usually found on the opposite shore a +group of half-naked little natives who drew near to watch with silent +interest the process of buttoning my shoes with a button-hook. The whole +school waded across to church on Sundays. + +The population of the village, with the exception of two or three +families, was composed of natives and half-whites of the lower class. +Heathen superstition mingled with modern vice. In some instances men and +women lived together without the ceremony of marriage. Beyond the +village the cane-fields began, and beyond them, at the foot of the +mountains, lived a better class of natives, moral and industrious. Here, +too, were the cane-mills and the residences of the planters. I remember +one pretty little cottage with walls of braided grass and wooden roof +and floor, surrounded by cool, vine-shaded verandas. It stood in the +middle of a cane-plantation, and was the home of an Englishman and his +wife, both highly cultivated and genial, companionable people. He was a +typical Englishman in appearance, stout and ruddy, and wore a blue +flannel suit and the white head-covering worn by his countrymen in +India. She was a graceful little creature with appealing dark eyes, and +looked too frail to have ever borne hardship or cruelty, yet she had +known little else all her early life. She had been left an orphan in +England, and had been sent out to Australia to make her living as a +governess. She was thrown among brutal, coarse-mannered people, and +received harsh treatment and suffered many vicissitudes of fortune. +Finally, her husband met and loved and married her, and lifted her out +of that hard life into one which appeared by contrast a heaven of peace +and kindness and affection. She often said frankly, "That was the +happiest event of my life. I can never be thankful enough to him or love +him enough. Sometimes I dream I am back again enduring that dreadful +life in Australia, and when I wake and realize that I am here in our own +little cottage, thousands of miles from Australia, I am freshly happy +and grateful." + +Near the foot of the mountains was a Catholic church and a school, round +which a little village had grown up. The self-sacrificing efforts of the +teachers have been productive of good among the natives, but there seems +little hope of any co-operation between the Protestant missionaries and +them. + +When the time came for me to return to Honolulu, Miss P---- offered to +accompany me, and suggested that instead of returning by the way I came +we should take the longer way and complete the circuit of the island. As +the road lay directly along the sea-coast the entire distance, there was +no danger of our losing our way. Miss P---- rode Calico, the missionary +steed, and I hired a white horse of Nakaniella (Nathaniel), one of the +patrons of the school, choosing it in preference to a bay brought for my +inspection the night before we started by a sullen-looking native from +the village. When we had gone two or three miles on our way we heard the +sound of furious galloping behind us, and looking back saw this native, +with a face like a thunder-cloud, approaching us on his bay horse. +Reaching us, he insisted on my dismounting and taking his horse, saying +that I had promised to hire it the night before. Miss P----, being able +to speak Hawaiian, answered for me without slackening our pace. She +said, in reply to his demands, that the wahine haole had not promised to +take his horse; that she would not pay him for his time and trouble in +bringing over the horse that morning and riding after us; that he might +ride all the way to Honolulu with us or go to law about the matter, both +of which he threatened. Fuming with wrath, he rode along with us for a +mile or two, breathing out threatenings and slaughter in vigorous +Hawaiian: then, uttering the spiteful wish, "May your horses throw you +and break your necks!" he turned and rode back toward Waialua. + +We passed through the ruins of a once-populous village: stone walls +bordered the road for a mile or more, and back of them were the stone +foundations of native houses and _heiaus_ (temples). Pandanus trees, +with roots like stilts or props that lifted them two or three feet from +the ground, grew inside the deserted enclosures: long grass waved from +the chinks and crevices. It was a mournful reminder of the decay of the +Hawaiian race. Just beyond the ruined village a sluggish creek flowed +into the sea. At the mouth of the valley whence it issued stood two or +three native huts. A man wearing a malo was up on the roof of one, +thatching it with grass. Riding near, we hailed him and inquired about a +quicksand which lay just ahead and which we must cross. He told us to +avoid the _makai_ side and keep to the _mouka_ side. We followed his +directions, and crossed in safety. For all practical purposes there are +but two directions in the islands--_mouka_, meaning toward the +mountains, and _makai_, toward the sea. + +We rode all the forenoon over a level strip of grassy open country +bordering the sea, with here and there a native hut near a clump of +cocoanuts or a taro-patch. Toward noon we passed fenced pastures in +which many horses were grazing, and came in sight of a picturesque +cottage near the shore. Miss G---- had told us that on the lawn in front +of this cottage were two curious old stone idols which had been +discovered in a fish-pond, and we rode up to the gate intending to ask +permission to enter and look at them. A Chinese servant let us in, and +the owner, an Englishman who lived here during part of the year, came +and showed us the idols, and then invited us inside his pretty cottage +and gave us a lunch of bread and butter and guava jelly and oranges. The +walls and ceilings were of native wood, of the kinds used in delicate +cabinet-work and were polished until they shone. The floor was covered +with fine straw matting, and around the room were ranged easy-chairs and +sofas of willow and rattan. In one corner stood a piano in an ebony +case, and on a koa-wood centre-table were a number of fine photographs +and works of art. Hanging baskets filled with blooming plants hung in +each window and in the veranda. Altogether, it was the prettiest +hermitage imaginable. + +Riding along that afternoon through a country much like that we had +passed over in the morning, we heard from a native hut the sound of the +mournful Hawaiian wail, "Auea! auea!" (pronounced like the word "away" +long drawn out). To our inquiry if any one was dead within, a woman +answered, "No, but that some friends had come from a distance on a +visit." I have frequently seen two Hawaiian friends or relations who had +not met for a long time express their emotions at seeing one another +again, not by kissing and laughing and joyful exclamations, but by +sitting down on the ground and wailing. Perhaps it was done in +remembrance of their long separation and of the changes that had taken +place during that time. The native mode of kissing consists in rubbing +noses together. + +Not far from this place we passed a Mormon settlement, a little colony +sent out from Utah. The group of bare white buildings was some distance +back from the road, and we did not stop to visit them. Near by was a +_hou_-tree swamp, a spongy, marshy place where cattle were eating grass +that grew under water. They would reach down until their ears were +almost covered, take a mouthful and lift up their heads while they +chewed it. Thus far on our journey there had been a level plain two or +three miles wide between the sea and the mountains, but here the +mountains came close down to the sea, leaving only a little strip of +land along the beach. High, stern cliffs with strange profiles, such as +a lion, a canoe and a gigantic hen on her nest, frowned upon us as we +rode along their base. We passed a cold bubbling spring which had worn a +large basin for itself in the rock. It had formerly been the +bathing-place of a chief, and therefore taboo to the common people. In +one of our gallops along the beach my stirrup-strap broke, and we +stopped in front of a solitary hut to ask for a stout string. A squid +was drying on a pole and scenting the air with its fishy odors. In +answer to our call an old man in a calico shirt came out of the hut, +and, taking some strips of _hou_-bark, twisted them into a strong string +and fastened the stirrup. I gave him a real, and he exclaimed "Aloha!" +with apparently as much surprise and delight as if we had enriched him +for life. + +We rode through a little village at the mouth of a beautiful green +valley, forded a river that ran through it, and passing under more high +cliffs came about four in the afternoon to Kahana, our stopping-place +for the night. It was a little cluster of houses at the head of a bay or +inlet of the sea, where the lovely transparent water was green as grass, +and stood in the opening of a valley enclosed by high, steep +mountain-walls, with sharp ridges down their sides clothed with rich +forests. All around us grew delicate, luxuriant ferns, of which there +are one hundred and fifty varieties in the islands. Along the shores of +the bay some women were wading, their dresses held above their knees, +picking shellfish and green sea-moss off the rocks for supper. We rode +up to the cottage of Kekoa, a native minister who had studied under Miss +P----'s father. His half-Chinese, half-native wife was in a grass hut at +the back of the house, and she came immediately to take our horses, +saying that her husband was at the church, but would be at home soon. +Then opening the door, she told us to go inside and rest ourselves. It +was a pretty cottage, with floors and walls of wood and a grass roof. +Braided mats of palm and pandanus-leaves were on the floor, and on the +walls hung portraits of the Hawaiian royal family and Generals Lee and +Grant. It had two rooms--a sitting-room and a bedroom--the first +furnished with a table and chairs, the latter with a huge high-posted +bedstead with a canopy over it. Altogether, it was much above the common +native houses, and was evidently not used every day, but kept for the +reception of guests--travelling ministers and the like. + +When Kekoa came he welcomed us warmly on account of the attachment he +had for Miss P----'s father, and told us to consider the house ours as +long as it pleased us to stay. He sent his wife to catch a chicken, and +soon set before us on the table in the sitting-room a supper consisting +of boiled chicken, rice, baked taro, coarse salt from the bay, and +bananas. We overlooked the absence of bread, which the natives know not +of, and shared the use of the one knife and fork between us. Our host +waited on us, his wife bringing the food to the door and handing it to +him. After supper other natives came in, and Miss P---- conversed with +them in Hawaiian. Being tired and stiff from my long ride, I went into +the next room and lay down on the bed. Mrs. Kekoa came in presently and +began to lomi-lomi me. She kneaded me with her hands from head to foot, +just as a cook kneads dough, continuing the process for nearly an hour, +although I begged her several times to stop lest she should be tired. At +the end of that time all sensation of fatigue and stiffness was gone and +I felt fresh and well. Kekoa and his wife slept in a grass hut several +rods farther up the valley, and Miss P---- and I had the house to +ourselves. In the middle of the night we were awakened by the sound of a +man talking in through the open window of our room. We both thought for +a moment that it was our persecutor of the morning who had followed us +as he had threatened, but it proved to be a native from the head of the +valley who wanted to see Kekoa. Miss P---- directed him to the grass hut +where our host slept, and he went away, and we were not disturbed again. +Next morning we had breakfast like the supper, and asked for our horses. +Kekoa and his wife begged us to stay longer, but we could not, and +parted from them with much regret. We afterward sent them some large +photographs of scenes in Honolulu, and received an affectionate message +from them in return. I look back to Kahana as a sort of Happy Valley, +and dream sometimes of going back and seeing again its beautiful +pale-green bay, its glittering blue sea, its grand mountain-walls +clothed in richest verdure, and renewing my acquaintance with its +kind-hearted people. Several natives gathered to say good-bye, and two +of them rode with us out of the valley and saw us fairly on our way. + +We rode past cane-plantations fenced with palm-tree trunks or hedged +with huge prickly pear; past thickets of wild indigo and castor bean; +through guava-jungles, where we pulled and ate the ripe fruit, yellow +outside and pink within; past large fish-ponds that had been constructed +for the chiefs in former days; past rice-fields where Chinese were +scaring away the birds; past threshing-floors where Chinese were +threshing rice; past _kamani_ trees (from Tahiti) that looked like +umbrellas slanting upward; past a flock of mina-birds brought from +Australia; past aloe-plants and vast thickets of red and yellow lantana +in blossom, reaching as high as our horses' necks. + +We dismounted in front of a little grass hut where we heard the sound of +a tappa-pounder, and went to the door. An old native woman, with her +arms tattooed with India-ink, was sitting on a mat spread on the ground, +with a sheet of moist red tappa lying over a beam placed on the ground +in front of her, and a four-sided mallet in her hand. Beside her sat a +young half-white girl with a large tortoise-shell comb in her hair and a +fat little dog in her arms. We asked if we could come in and see the +tappa. The old woman said "Yes," and displayed it with some pride. She +was making it to give to Queen Emma, hence the pains she was taking with +the coloring and the pattern. The bark of a shrub resembling our pawpaw +tree is steeped in water until it becomes a mass of pulp. Then it is +laid on the heavy beam and beaten with the tappa-pounder, and pulled and +stretched until it becomes a square sheet with firm edges, about as +thick as calico and six or eight feet square. The juice of berries or +dye from the bark of trees furnishes the coloring, and the pattern is +determined by the figures cut in the tappa-pounder. Some fine mats +rolled-up in one corner and some braided baskets on the wall were also +the work of this tappa-maker. + +We passed through several villages as we neared our journey's end, and +the scenery grew more interesting. The palm trees on the beach framed +views of little islands bathed in sea-mist which lay half a mile or more +from the shore. Narrow green valleys with high steep walls, down whose +sides flashed bright waterfalls, opened to view one after another on the +mouka or inland side. At the mouth of one we saw a twig of _ohia_, or +native apple tree, placed carefully between two stones. Some +superstitious native had put it there as an offering, that the goddess +of that valley might not roll down rocks on him and kill him. The Pali, +a stupendous perpendicular cliff four thousand feet high, faces the sea +a few miles from Honolulu. We came in sight of it early in the +afternoon, and stopped on a grassy knoll near a clear stream to eat our +lunch and allow our horses to graze. The hardest part of the whole +journey lay immediately before us. A zigzag path has been cut up the +face of the cliff, but it is so steep and narrow that carriages cannot +pass over it, and it is with much exertion and heavy panting that it can +be climbed by man or beast. The face of the cliff is hung with vines and +ferns, and at its base grow palms and the rich vegetation of the +tropics. It is the grandest bit of scenery on Oahu. We rode our horses +to the foot of the Pali: then, out of compassion for them, dismounted +and led them up the long steep path, stopping several times to rest. On +the way some natives passed us on horseback, racing up the Pali! At the +top we stood a while in silence, gazing at the magnificent prospect +spread out below us. We could see miles of the road we had +come--silvery-green cane-plantations, little villages with white +church-spires, rich groves of palm, kukui and koa, and the sea rising +like a dark blue wall all around the horizon. Then we mounted and turned +our faces toward Honolulu. On either side were lofty mountain-walls, +with perpendicular sides clothed with vivid green and hung with silvery +waterfalls. We were entering the city by Nuannu ("Cold Spring") Valley, +the most delightful and fashionable suburb. Here were Queen Emma's +residence, set in the midst of extensive and beautiful grounds, the +Botanical Gardens, the residence of the American minister, the royal +mausoleum and the house and gardens once occupied by Kalumma, a former +queen. Crowds of gayly-dressed natives galloped past us as we neared the +city, wearing wreaths of fern and flowers. One man carried a half-grown +pig in a rope net attached to his stirrup: it looked tired of life. So, +under the arching algaroba and monkey-pod trees that shade Nuannu +Avenue, and past the royal palms that grace the yards, we rode into +beautiful Honolulu. + + LOUISE COFFIN JONES. + + + + +FINDELKIND OF MARTINSWAND: A CHILD'S STORY. + + +There was a little boy a year or two since who lived under the shadow of +Martinswand. Most people know, I should suppose, that the Martinswand is +that mountain in the Oberinnthal where, several centuries ago, brave +Kaiser Max lost his footing as he stalked the chamois and fell upon a +ledge of rock, and stayed there, in mortal peril, for thirty hours, till +he was rescued by the strength and agility of a Tyrol hunter--an angel +in the guise of a hunter, as the chronicles of the time prefer to say. +The Martinswand is a grand mountain, being one of the spurs of the +greater Sonnstein, and rises precipitously, looming, massive and lofty, +like a very fortress for giants, where it stands right across that road +which, if you follow it long enough, takes you on through Zirl to +Landeck--old, picturesque, poetic Landeck, where Frederic of the Empty +Pockets rhymed his sorrows in ballads to his people--and so on, by +Bludenz, into Switzerland itself, by as noble a highway as any traveller +can ever desire to traverse on a summer's day. The Martinswand is within +a mile of the little burg of Zirl, where the people, in the time of +their kaiser's peril, came out with torches and bells, and the Host +lifted up by their priest, and all prayed on their knees underneath the +gaunt pile of limestone, which is the same to-day as it was then, whilst +Kaiser Max is dust. The Martinswand soars up very steep and very +majestic, bare stone at its base and all along its summit crowned with +pine woods; and on the other side of the road that runs onward to Zirl +are a little stone church, quaint and low, and gray with age, and a +stone farm-house and cattle-sheds and timber-sheds of wood that is +darkly brown from time; and beyond these are some of the most beautiful +meadows in the world, full of tall grass and countless flowers, with +pools and little estuaries made by the brimming Inn River that flows by +them, and beyond the river the glaciers of the Sonnstein and the Selrain +and the wild Arlberg region, and the golden glow of sunset in the west, +most often seen from here through a veil of falling rain. + +At this farm-house, with Martinswand towering above it and Zirl a mile +beyond, there lived, and lives still, a little boy who bears the old +historical name of Findelkind. His father, Otto Korner, was the last of +a sturdy race of yeomen who had fought with Hofer and Haspinger, and had +been free men always. + +Findelkind came in the middle of seven other children, and was a pretty +boy of nine years old, with slenderer limbs and paler cheeks than his +rosy brethren, and tender, dreamy, dark-blue eyes that had the look, his +mother told him, of seeking stars in midday--_de chercher midi a +quatorze heures_, as the French have it. He was a good little lad, and +seldom gave any trouble from disobedience, though he often gave it from +forgetfulness. His father angrily complained that he was always in the +clouds--that is, he was always dreaming--and so very often would spill +the milk out of the pails, chop his own fingers instead of the wood, and +stay watching the swallows when he was sent to draw water. His brothers +and sisters were always making fun of him: they were sturdier, ruddier +and merrier children than he was, loved romping and climbing and +nutting, thrashing the walnut trees and sliding down snow-drifts, and +got into mischief of a more common and childish sort than Findelkind's +freaks of fancy. For indeed he was a very fanciful little boy: +everything around had tongues for him, and he would sit for hours among +the long rushes on the river's edge, trying to imagine what the wild +green-gray water had found in its wanderings, and asking the water-rats +and the ducks to tell him about it; but both rats and ducks were too +busy to attend to an idle little boy, and never spoke, which vexed him. + +Findelkind, however, was very fond of his books: he would study day and +night in his little ignorant, primitive fashion. He loved his missal and +his primer, and could spell them both out very fairly, and was learning +to write of a good priest in Zirl, where he trotted three times a week +with his two little brothers. When not at school he was chiefly set to +guard the sheep and the cows, which occupation left him very much to +himself, so that he had many hours in the summer-time to stare up to +the skies and wonder, wonder, wonder about all sorts of things; while in +the winter--the long, white, silent winter, when the post-wagons ceased +to run, and the road into Switzerland was blocked, and the whole world +seemed asleep except for the roaring of the winds--Findelkind, who still +trotted over the snow to school in Zirl, would dream still, sitting on +the wooden settle by the fire when he came home again under Martinswand. +For the worst--or the best--of it all was that he was Findelkind also. + +This was what was always haunting him. He was Findelkind, and to bear +this name seemed to him to mark him out from all other children and +dedicate him to Heaven. One day three years before, when he had been +only six years old, the priest in Zirl, who was a very kindly and +cheerful man, and amused the children as much as he taught them, had not +allowed Findelkind to leave the school to go home because the storm of +snow and wind was so violent, but had kept him until the worst should +pass, with one or two other little lads who lived some way off, and had +let the boys roast apples and chestnuts by the stove in his little room, +and while the wind howled and the blinding snow fell without had told +the children the story of another Findelkind, an earlier Findelkind, who +had lived in the flesh as far back as 1381, and had been a little +shepherd-lad--"just like you," said the good man, looking at the little +boys munching their roast crabs--"over there, above Stuben, where Danube +and Rhine meet and part." The pass of Arlberg is even still so bleak and +bitter that few care to climb there: the mountains around are drear and +barren, and snow lies till midsummer, and even longer sometimes. "But in +the early ages," said the priest--and this is quite a true tale, which +the children heard with open eyes, and mouths only not open because they +were full of crabs and chestnuts,--"in the early ages," said the priest +to them, "the Arlberg was far more dreary than it is now. There was only +a mule-track over it, and no refuge for man or beast; so that wanderers +and peddlers, and those whose need for work or desire for battle +brought them over that frightful pass, perished in great numbers and +were eaten by the bears and the wolves. The little shepherd-boy, +Findelkind--who was a little boy five hundred years ago, remember," +added the priest--"was sorely disturbed and distressed to see those poor +dead souls in the snow winter after winter, and to see the blanched +bones lie on the bare earth unburied when summer melted the snow. It +made him unhappy, very unhappy; and what could he do, he a little boy +keeping sheep? He had as his wage two florins a year--that was all--but +his heart rose high and he had faith in God. Little as he was, he said +to himself he would try and do something, so that year after year those +poor lost travellers and beasts should not perish so. He said nothing to +anybody, but he took the few florins he had saved up, bade his master +farewell and went on his way begging--a little fourteenth-century boy, +with long, straight hair and a girdled tunic, as you see them," +continued the priest, "in the miniatures in the black-letter missal that +lies upon my desk. No doubt Heaven favored him very strongly, and the +saints watched over him; still, without the boldness of his own courage +and the faith in his own heart they would not have done so. I suppose, +too, that when knights in their armor and soldiers in their camps saw +such a little fellow all alone they helped him, and perhaps struck some +blows for him, and so sped him on his way and protected him from robbers +and from wild beasts. Still, be sure that the real shield and the real +reward that served Findelkind of Arlberg was the pure and noble purpose +that armed him night and day. Now, history does not tell us where +Findelkind went, nor how he fared, nor how long he was about it, but +history _does_ tell us that the little barefooted, long-haired boy, +knocking so boldly at castle-gates and city-walls in the name of Christ +and Christ's poor brethren, did so well succeed in his quest that before +long he had returned to his mountain-home with means to have a church +and a rude dwelling built, where he lived with six other brave and +charitable souls, dedicating themselves to St. Christopher, and going +out night and day, to the sound of the Angelus, seeking the lost and +weary. This is really what Findelkind of Arlberg did five centuries ago, +and did so well that his fraternity of St. Christopher twenty years +after numbered amongst its members archdukes, prelates and knights +without number, and lasted as a great order down to the days of Joseph +II. This is what Findelkind in the fourteenth century did, I tell you. +Bear like faith in your hearts, my children, and, though your generation +is a harder one than his, because it is without faith, yet you shall +move mountains, because Christ and St. Christopher will be with you." + +Then the good man, having said that, blessed them and left them alone to +their chestnuts and crabs and went into his own oratory to prayer. The +other boys laughed and chattered, but Findelkind sat very quietly +thinking of his namesake all the day after, and for many days and weeks +and months this story haunted him. A little boy had done all that, and +this little boy had been called Findelkind--Findelkind, just like +himself. + +It was a beautiful story, and yet it tortured him. If the good man had +known how the history would root itself in the child's mind perhaps he +would never have told it, for night and day it vexed Findelkind, and yet +seemed beckoning to him and crying, "Go, thou, and do likewise!" + +But what could he do? + +There was the snow, indeed, and there were the mountains, as in the +fourteenth century, but there were no travellers lost. The diligence did +not go into Switzerland after autumn, and the country-people who went by +on their mules and in their sledges to Innspruck knew their way very +well, and were never likely to be adrift on a winter's night or eaten by +a wolf or a bear. + +When spring came Findelkind sat by the edge of the bright pure water +amongst the flowering grasses and felt his head heavy. Findelkind of +Arlberg, who was in heaven now, must look down, he fancied, and think +him so stupid and so selfish sitting there. The first Findelkind a few +centuries before had trotted down on his bare feet from his +mountain-pass, and taken his little crook and gone out boldly over all +the land on his pilgrimage, and knocked at castle-gates and city-walls +in Christ's name and for love of the poor. That was to do something +indeed! + +This poor little living Findelkind would look at the miniatures in the +priest's missal, in one of which there was the fourteenth-century boy +with long hanging hair and a wallet and bare feet, and he never doubted +that it was the portrait of the blessed Findelkind who was in heaven; +and he wondered if he looked like a little boy there or if he were +changed to the likeness of an angel. + +"He was a boy just like me," thought the poor little fellow; and he felt +so ashamed of himself, so much ashamed; and the priest had told him to +try and do the same. He brooded over it so much, and it made him so +anxious and so vexed, that his brothers ate his porridge and he did not +notice it, his sisters pulled his curls and he did not feel it, his +father brought a stick down on his back and he only started and stared, +and his mother cried because he was losing his mind and would grow daft, +and even his mother's tears he scarcely saw. He was always thinking of +Findelkind in heaven. + +When he went for water he spilt one half; when he did his lessons, he +forgot the chief part; when he drove out the cow, he let her munch the +cabbages; and when he was set to watch the oven, he let the loaves burn, +like great Alfred. He was always busied thinking, "Little Findelkind +that is in heaven did so great a thing: why may not I? I ought! I +ought!" What was the use of being named after Findelkind that was in +heaven unless one did something great too? + +Next to the church there is a little stone sort of shed with two arched +openings, and from it you look into the tiny church with its crucifixes +and relics, or out to great, bold, sombre Martinswand, as you like best; +and in this spot Findelkind would sit hour after hour while his brothers +and sisters were playing, and look up at the mountains or on to the +altar, and wish and pray and vex his little soul most woefully; and his +ewes and his lambs would crop the grass about the entrance, and bleat to +make him notice them and lead them farther afield, but all in vain. Even +the dear sheep he hardly heeded, and his pet ewes Katte and Greta and +the big ram Zips rubbed their soft noses in his hand unnoticed. So the +summer passed away--the summer that is so short in the mountains, and +yet so green and so radiant, with the torrents tumbling through the +flowers, and the hay tossing in the meadows, and the lads and lasses +climbing to cut the rich sweet grass of the alps. The short summer +passed as fast as a dragon-fly flashes by, all green and gold, in the +sun; and it was near autumn once more, and still Findelkind was always +dreaming and wondering what he could do for the good of St. Christopher; +and the longing to do it all came more and more into his little heart, +and he puzzled his brain till his head ached. + +One autumn morning, whilst yet it was dark, Findelkind made up his mind, +and rose before his brothers and stole down stairs and out into the air, +as it was easy to do, because the house-door never was bolted. He had +nothing with him, he was barefooted, and his school-satchel was slung +behind him, as Findelkind of Arlberg's wallet had been five centuries +before. He took a little staff from the piles of wood lying about, and +went out on to the highroad, on his way to do Heaven's will. He was not +very sure--but that was because he was only nine years old and not very +wise--but Findelkind that was in heaven had begged for the poor: so +would he. + +His parents were very poor, but he did not think of them as in want at +any time, because he always had his bowlful of porridge and as much +bread as he wanted to eat. This morning he had had nothing to eat: he +wished to be away before any one could question him. + +It was still dusk in the fresh autumn morning; the sun had not risen +behind the glaciers of the Stubaythal, and the road was scarcely seen; +but he knew it very well, and he set out bravely, saying his prayers to +Christ and to St. Christopher and to Findelkind that was in heaven. He +was not in any way clear as to what he would do, but he thought he would +find some great thing to do somewhere lying like a jewel in the dust; +and he went on his way in faith, as Findelkind of Arlberg had done. His +heart beat high, and his head lost its aching pains, and his feet felt +light--as light as if there were wings to his ankles. He would not go to +Zirl, because Zirl he knew so well, and there could be nothing very +wonderful waiting there; and he ran fast the other way. When he was +fairly out from under the shadow of Martinswand he slackened his pace, +and saw the sun come up on his path and begin to redden the gray-green +water; and the early Eilwagen from Landeck, that had been lumbering +along all the night, overtook him. He would have run after it and called +out to the travellers for alms, but he felt ashamed: his father had +never let him beg, and he did not know how to begin. The Eilwagen rolled +on through the autumn mud, and that was one chance lost. He was sure +that the first Findelkind had not felt ashamed when he had knocked at +the first castle-gate. + +By and by, when he could not see Martinswand by turning his head back +ever so, he came to an inn that used to be a post-house in the old days +when men travelled only by road. A woman was feeding chickens in the +bright clear red of the cold daybreak. Findelkind timidly held out his +hand. "For the poor," he murmured, and doffed his cap. + +The old woman looked at him sharply: "Oh, is it you, little Findelkind? +Have you run off from school? Be off with you home! I have mouths enough +to feed here." + +Findelkind went away, and began to learn that it is not easy to be a +prophet or a hero in one's own country. He trotted a mile farther and +met nothing. At last he came to some cows by the wayside, and a man +tending them. "Would you give me something to help make a monastery?" he +said timidly, and once more took off his cap. + +The man gave a great laugh: "A fine monk you! And who wants more of +those lazy drones? Not I." + +Findelkind never answered: he remembered the priest had said that the +years he lived in were very hard ones, and men in them had no faith. Ere +long he came to a big walled house, with turrets and grated +casements--very big it looked to him--like one of the first Findelkind's +own castles. His heart beat loud against his side, but he plucked up his +courage and knocked as loud as his heart was beating. He knocked and +knocked, but no answer came. The house was empty. But he did not know +that: he thought it was that the people within were cruel, and he went +sadly onward with the road winding before him, and on his right the +beautiful, impetuous gray river, and on his left the green Mittelgebirge +and the mountains that rose behind it. By this time the sun was high: +its rays were glowing on the red of the cranberry-shrubs and the blue of +the bilberry-boughs; he was hungry and thirsty and tired. But he did not +give in for that: he held on steadily. He knew that there was near, +somewhere near, a great city that the people called Sprugg, and thither +he had resolved to go. By noontide he had walked eight miles, and come +to a green place where men were shooting at targets, the tall thick +grass all around them; and a little way farther off was a train of +people chanting and bearing crosses and dressed in long flowing robes. + +The place was the Hoettinger Au, and the day was Saturday, and the +village was making ready to perform a miracle-play on the morrow. +Findelkind ran to the robed singing-folk, quite sure that he saw the +people of God. "Oh, take me! take me!" he cried to them--"do take me +with you to do Heaven's work!" + +But they pushed him aside for a crazy little boy that spoilt their +rehearsing. + +"It was only for Hoetting-folk," said a lad older than himself. "Get out +of the way with you, liebchen;" and the man who carried the cross +knocked him with force on the head by mere accident, but Findelkind +thought he had meant it. + +Were people so much kinder five centuries before? he wondered, and felt +sad as the many-colored robes swept on through the grass and the crack +of the rifles sounded sharply through the music of the chanting voices. +He went on footsore and sorrowful, thinking of the castle-doors that had +opened and the city-gates that had unclosed at the summons of the little +long-haired boy painted on the missal. + +He had come now to where the houses were much more numerous, though +under the shade of great trees--lovely old gray houses, some of wood, +some of stone, some with frescoes on them and gold and color and +mottoes, some with deep-barred casements and carved portals and +sculptured figures--houses of the poorer people now, but still memorials +of a grand and gracious time. For he had wandered into the quarter of +St. Nicholas of this fair mountain-city, which he, like his +country-folks, called Sprugg, though the government and the world called +it Innspruck. + +He got out upon a long gray wooden bridge, and looked up and down the +reaches of the river, and thought to himself maybe this was not Sprugg +but Jerusalem, so beautiful it looked with its domes shining golden in +the sun, and the snow of the Patscher Kofl and the Brandjoch behind +them. For little Findelkind had never come so far before. + +As he stood on the bridge so dreaming a hand clutched him and a voice +said, "A whole kreutzer, or you do not pass." + +Findelkind started and trembled. A kreutzer? He had never owned such a +treasure in all his life. "I have no money," he murmured timidly: "I +came to see if I could get money for the poor." + +The keeper of the bridge laughed: "You are a little beggar, you mean? +Oh, very well: then over my bridge you do not go." + +"But it is the city on the other side." + +"To be sure it is the city, but over nobody goes without a kreutzer." + +"I never have such a thing of my own--never, never," said Findelkind, +ready to cry. + +"Then you were a little fool to come away from your home, wherever that +may be," said the man at the bridge-head. "Well, I will let you go, for +you look a baby. But do not beg: that is bad." + +"Findelkind did it." + +"Then Findelkind was a rogue and a vagabond," said the taker of tolls. + +"Oh, no, no, no!" + +"Oh, yes, yes, yes, little saucebox! and take that," said the man, +giving him a box on the ear, being angry at contradiction. + +Findelkind's head drooped, and he went slowly over the bridge, +forgetting that he ought to have thanked the toll-taker for a free +passage. The world seemed to him very difficult. How had Findelkind done +when he had come to bridges? and oh, how had Findelkind done when he had +been hungry? For this poor little Findelkind was getting very hungry, +and his stomach was as empty as was his wallet. + +A few steps brought him to the Goldenes Dachl. He forgot his hunger and +his pain, seeing the sun shine on all that gold and the curious painted +galleries under it. He thought it was real, solid gold. Real gold laid +out on a house-roof, and the people all so poor! Findelkind began to +muse, and wonder why everybody did not climb up there and take a tile +off and be rich. But perhaps it would be wicked. Perhaps God put the +roof there with all that gold to prove people. Findelkind got +bewildered. If God did such a thing, was it kind? + +His head seemed to swim, and the sunshine went round and round with him. +There went by him just then a very venerable-looking old man with silver +hair: he was wrapped in a long cloak. + +Findelkind pulled at the cloak gently, and the old man looked down. +"What is it, my boy?" he asked. + +Findelkind answered, "I came out to get gold: may I take it off that +roof?" + +"It is not gold, child: it is gilding." + +"What is gilding?" + +"It is a thing made to look like gold: that is all." + +"It is a lie, then!" + +The old man smiled: "Well, nobody thinks so. If you like to put it so, +perhaps it is. What do you want gold for, you wee thing?" + +"To build a monastery and house the poor." + +The old man's face scowled and grew dark, for he was a Lutheran pastor +from Bavaria. "Who taught you such trash?" he said crossly. + +"It is not trash: it is faith." + +And Findelkind's face began to burn and his blue eyes to darken and +moisten. There was a little crowd beginning to gather, and the crowd was +beginning to laugh. There were some soldiers and rifle-shooters in the +throng, and they jeered and joked, and made fun of the old man in the +long cloak, who grew angry then with the child. "You are a little +idolater and a little impudent sinner," he said wrathfully, and shook +the boy by the shoulder and went away; and the throng that had gathered +round had only poor Findelkind left to tease. + +He was a very poor little boy indeed to look at, with his sheepskin +tunic and his bare feet and legs, and his wallet that never was to get +filled. + +"Where do you come from, and what do you want?" they asked. + +And he answered with a sob in his voice, "I want to do like Findelkind +of Arlberg." + +And then the crowd laughed, not knowing at all what he meant, but +laughing just because they did not know, as crowds always will do. + +And only the big dogs, that are so very big in this country, and are all +loose and free and good-natured citizens, came up to him kindly and +rubbed against him and made friends; and at that tears came into his +eyes and his courage rose, and he lifted his head. + +"You are cruel people to laugh," he said indignantly: "the dogs are +kinder. People did not laugh at Findelkind. He was a little boy just +like me, no better and no bigger, and as poor, and yet he had so much +faith, and the world then was so good, that he left his sheep and got +money enough to build a church and a hospice to Christ and St. +Christopher. And I want to do the same for the poor. Not for myself--no, +for the poor. I am Findelkind too, and Findelkind that is in heaven +speaks to me." Then he stopped, and a sob rose again in his throat. + +"He is crazy," said the people, laughing, yet a little scared; for the +priest at Zirl had said rightly, This is not an age of faith. At that +moment there sounded, coming from the barracks, that used to be the +Schloss in the old days of Kaiser Max and Mary of Burgundy, the sound of +drums and trumpets and the tramp of marching feet. It was one of the +corps of jaegers of Tyrol going down from the avenue to the Rudolf Platz, +with their band before them and their pennons streaming. It was a +familiar sight, but it drew the street-throngs to it like magic: the age +is not fond of dreamers, but it is very fond of drums. In almost a +moment the old dark arcades and the river-side and the passages near +were all empty, except for the old women sitting at their stalls of +fruit or cakes or toys. They are wonderful arched arcades, like the +cloisters of a cathedral more than anything else, and the shops under +them are all homely and simple--shops of leather, of furs, of clothes, +of wooden playthings, of sweet, wholesome bread. They are very quaint, +and kept by poor folks for poor folks, but to the dazed eyes of +Findelkind they looked like a forbidden Paradise, for he was so hungry +and so heartbroken, and he had never seen any bigger place than little +Zirl. + +He stood and looked wistfully, but no one offered him anything. Close by +was a stall of splendid purple grapes, but the old woman that kept it +was busy knitting. She only called to him to stand out of her light. + +"You look a poor brat: have you a home?" said another woman, who sold +bridles and whips and horses' bells and the like. + +"Oh yes, I have a home--by Martinswand," said Findelkind with a sigh. + +The woman looked at him sharply: "Your parents have sent you on an +errand here?" + +"No, I have run away." + +"Run away? Oh, you bad boy! Unless, indeed--are they cruel to you?" + +"No--very good." + +"Are you a little rogue then, or a thief?" + +"You are a bad woman to think such things," said Findelkind hotly, +knowing himself on how innocent and sacred a quest he was. + +"Bad? I? Oh ho," said the old dame, cracking one of her new whips in the +air, "I should like to make you jump about with this, you thankless +little vagabond! Be off!" + +Findelkind sighed again, his momentary anger passing, for he had been +born with a gentle temper, and thought himself to blame much more +readily than he thought other people were--as, indeed, every wise child +does, only there are so few children--or men--that are wise. + +He turned his head away from the temptation of the bread- and +fruit-stalls, for in truth hunger gnawed him terribly, and wandered a +little to the left. From where he stood he could see the long beautiful +street of Theresa with its oriels and arches, painted windows and gilded +signs, and the steep, gray, dark mountains closing it in at the +distance; but the street frightened him, it looked so grand, and he knew +it would tempt him; so he went where he saw the green tops of some high +elms and beeches. The trees, like the dogs, seemed like friends: it was +the human creatures that were cruel. + +At that moment there came out of the barrack-gates, with great noise of +trumpets and trampling of horses, a group of riders in gorgeous +uniforms, with sabres and chains glancing and plumes tossing. It looked +to Findelkind like a group of knights--those knights who had helped and +defended his namesake with their steel and their gold in the old days of +the Arlberg quest. His heart gave a leap, and he jumped on the dust for +joy, and he ran forward and fell on his knees and waved his cap like a +little mad thing, and cried out, "Oh, dear knights! oh, great soldiers! +help me, fight for me, for the love of the saints! I have come all the +way from Martinswand, and I am Findelkind, and I am trying to serve St. +Christopher like Findelkind of Arlberg." + +But his little swaying body and pleading hands and shouting voice and +blowing curls frightened the horses: one of them swerved, and very +nearly settled the woes of Findelkind for ever and aye by a kick. The +soldier who rode the horse reined him in with difficulty: he was at the +head of the little staff, being indeed no less or more than the general +commanding the garrison, which in this city is some fifteen thousand +strong. An orderly sprang from his saddle and seized the child, and +shook him and swore at him. Findelkind was frightened, but he shut his +eyes and set his teeth, and said to himself that the martyrs must have +had very much worse than these things to suffer in their pilgrimage. He +had fancied these riders were knights--such knights as the priest had +shown him the likeness of in old picture-books--whose mission it had +been to ride through the world succoring the weak and weary and always +defending the right. + +"What are your swords for if you are not knights?" he cried, desperately +struggling in his captor's grip, and seeing through his half-closed lids +the sunshine shining on steel scabbards. + +"What does he want?" asked the officer in command of the garrison, whose +staff all this bright and martial array was. He was riding out from the +barracks to an inspection on the Rudolf Platz. He was a young man, and +had little children himself, and was half amused, half touched, to see +the tiny figure of the dusty little boy. + +"I want to build a monastery like Findelkind of Arlberg, and to help the +poor," said our Findelkind valorously, though his heart was beating like +that of a little mouse caught in a trap, for the horses were trampling +up the dust around him and the orderly's grip was hard. + +The officers laughed aloud; and indeed he looked a poor little scrap of +a figure, very ill able to help even himself. + +"Why do you laugh?" cried Findelkind, losing his terror in his +indignation, and inspired with the courage which a great earnestness +always gives. "You should not laugh. If you were true knights you would +not laugh: you would fight for me. I am little, I know. I am very +little, but he was no bigger than I, and see what great things he did. +But the soldiers were good in those days: they did not laugh and use bad +words." And Findelkind, on whose shoulder the orderly's hold was still +fast, faced the horses which looked to him as huge as Martinswand, and +the swords which he little doubted were to be sheathed in his heart. + +The officers stared, laughed again, then whispered together, and +Findelkind heard them mutter the word "toll." Findelkind, whose quick +little ears were both strained like a mountain-leveret's, understood +that the great men were saying amongst themselves that it was not safe +for him to be about alone, and that it would be kinder to him to catch +and cage him--the general view with which the world regards enthusiasts. + +He heard, he understood: he knew that they did not mean to help him, +these men with the steel weapons and the huge steeds, but that they +meant to shut him up in a prison--him, little free-born, forest-fed +Findelkind. He wrenched himself out of the soldier's grip as the rabbit +wrenches itself out of the jaws of the trap, even at the cost of leaving +a limb behind, shot between the horses' legs, doubled like a hunted +thing, and spied a refuge. Opposite the avenue of gigantic poplars and +pleasant stretches of grass shaded by other bigger trees there stands a +very famous church--famous alike in the annals of history and of +art--the church of the Franciscans that holds the tomb of Kaiser Max, +though, alas! it holds not his ashes, as his dying desire was that it +should. The church stands here, a noble sombre place, with the Silver +Chapel of Philippina Wessler adjoining it, and in front the fresh cool +avenues that lead to the river and the broad water-meadows, and the +grand road bordered with the painted stations of the Cross. + +There were some peasants coming in from the country driving cows; some +burghers in their carts with fat, slow horses; some little children were +at play under the poplars and the elms; great dogs were lying about on +the grass: everything was happy and at peace except the poor throbbing +heart of little Findelkind, who thought the soldiers were coming after +him to lock him up as mad, and ran and ran as fast as his trembling legs +would carry him, making for sanctuary, as in the old bygone days that he +loved many a soul less innocent than his had done. The wide doors of the +Hof Kirche stood open, and on the steps lay a black and tan hound, +watching no doubt for its master and mistress, who had gone within to +pray. Findelkind in his terror vaulted over the dog, and into the church +tumbled headlong. + +It seemed quite dark, after the brilliant sunshine on the river and the +grass: his forehead touched the stone floor as he fell, and as he raised +himself and stumbled forward, reverent and bareheaded, looking for the +altar to cling to when the soldiers should enter to seize him, his +uplifted eyes fell on the great tomb. + +The tomb seems entirely to fill the church as, with its twenty-four +guardian figures round it, it towers up in the twilight that reigns here +even at midday. There is a stern majesty and grandeur in it which dwarfs +every other monument and mausoleum. It is grim, it is rude, it is +savage, with the spirit of the rough ages that created it; but it is +great with their greatness, it is heroic with their heroism, it is +simple with their simplicity. + +As the awestricken eyes of the terrified child fell on the mass of stone +and bronze the sight smote him breathless. The mailed warriors standing +around it, so motionless, so solemn, filled him with a frozen, nameless +fear. He had never a doubt but that they were the dead arisen. The +foremost that met his eyes were Theodoric and Arthur--the next, grim +Rodolf, father of a dynasty of emperors. There, leaning on their swords, +the three gazed down on him, armored, armed, majestic, serious, guarding +the empty grave, which to the child, who knew nothing of its history, +seemed a bier; and at the feet of Theodoric, who alone of them all +looked young and merciful, poor little desperate Findelkind fell with a +piteous sob, and cried, "I am not mad! Indeed, indeed, I am not mad!" + +He did not know that these six figures were but statues of bronze. He +was quite sure they were the dead arisen, and meeting there around that +tomb on which the solitary kneeling knight watched and prayed, +encircled, as by a wall of steel, by these his comrades. He was not +frightened; he was rather comforted and stilled, as with a sudden sense +of some deep calm and certain help. + +Findelkind, without knowing that he was like so many dissatisfied poets +and artists much bigger than himself, dimly felt in his little tired +mind how beautiful and how gorgeous and how grand the world must have +been when heroes and knights like these had gone by in its daily +sunshine and its twilight storms. No wonder Findelkind in heaven had +found his pilgrimage so fair when, if he had needed any help, he had +only had to kneel and clasp these firm mailed limbs, these strong +cross-hilted swords, in the name of Christ and of the poor! + +Theodoric seemed to look down on him with benignant eyes from under the +raised visor, and Findelkind, weeping, threw his small arms closer and +closer round the bronzed knees of the heroic figure and sobbed aloud, +"Help me! help me! Oh, turn the hearts of the people to me, and help me +to do good!" + +But Theodoric answered nothing. + +There was no sound in the dark, hushed church; the gloom grew darker +over Findelkind's eyes; the mighty forms of monarchs and of heroes grew +dim before his sight. He lost consciousness and fell prone upon the +stones at Theodoric's feet, for he had fainted from hunger and emotion. + +When he awoke it was quite evening: there was a lantern held over his +head; voices were muttering curiously and angrily; bending over him were +two priests, a sacristan of the church and his own father. His little +wallet lay by him on the stones, always empty. + +"Liebchen, were you mad?" cried his father, half in rage, half in +tenderness. "The chase you have led me! and your mother thinking you +were drowned! and all the working day lost, running after old women's +tales of where they had seen you! Oh, little fool! little fool! what +was amiss with Martinswand that you must leave it?" + +Findelkind slowly and feebly rose and sat up on the pavement, and looked +up, not at his father, but at the knight Theodoric. "I thought they +would help me to keep the poor," he muttered feebly as he glanced at his +own wallet. "And it is empty, empty!" + +"Are we not poor enough?" cried his father with paternal impatience, +ready to tear his hair with vexation at having such a little idiot for +son. "Must you rove afield to find poverty to help, when it sits cold +enough, the Lord knows, at our own hearth? Oh, little ass! little dolt! +little maniac! fit only for a madhouse! talking to iron figures and +taking them for real men!--What have I done, O Heaven, that I should be +afflicted thus?" + +And the poor man wept, being a good, affectionate soul, but not very +wise, and believing that his boy was mad. Then, seized with sudden rage +once more at thought of his day all wasted and its hours harassed and +miserable through searching for the lost child, he plucked up the light, +slight figure of Findelkind in his own arms, and with muttered thanks +and excuses to the sacristan of the church, bore the boy out with him +into the evening air, and lifted him into a cart which stood there with +a horse harnessed to one side of the pole, as the country-people love to +do, to the risk of their own lives and their neighbors'. Findelkind said +never a word: he was as dumb as Theodoric had been to him; he felt +stupid, heavy, half blind; his father pushed him some bread, and he ate +it by sheer instinct, as a lost animal will do. The cart jogged on, the +stars shone, the great church vanished in the gloom of night. + +As they went through the city toward the river-side and the homeward way +not a single word did his father, who was a silent man at all times, +address to him. Only once as they passed the bridge, "Son," he asked, +"did you run away truly thinking to please God and help the poor?" + +"Truly I did," answered Findelkind with a sob in his throat. + +"Then thou wert an ass," said his father. "Didst never think of thy +mother's love and of my toil? Look at home." + +Findelkind was mute. The drive was very long, backward by the same way, +with the river shining in the moonlight and the mountains half covered +with the clouds. + +It was ten by the bells of Zirl when they came once more under the +solemn shadow of grave Martinswand. There were lights moving about the +house, his brothers and sisters were still up, his mother ran out into +the road, weeping and laughing with fear and joy. + +Findelkind himself said nothing. He hung his head. They were too fond of +him to scold him or to jeer at him: they made him go quickly to his bed, +and his mother made him a warm milk-posset and kissed him. "We will +punish thee to-morrow, naughty and cruel one," said his parent. "But +thou art punished enough already, for in thy place little Stefan had the +sheep, and he has lost Katte's lambs, the beautiful twin lambs! I dare +not tell thy father to-night. Dost hear the poor thing mourn? Do not go +afield for thy duty again." + +A pang went through the heart of Findelkind, as if a knife had pierced +it. He loved Katte better than almost any other living thing, and she +was bleating under his window motherless and alone. They were such +beautiful lambs too!--lambs that his father had promised should never be +killed, but be reared to swell the flock. + +Findelkind cowered down in his bed and felt wretched beyond all +wretchedness. He had been brought back, his wallet was empty, and +Katte's lambs were lost. He could not sleep. His pulses were beating +like so many steam-hammers: he felt as if his body were all one great +throbbing heart. His brothers, who lay in the same chamber with him, +were sound asleep: very soon his father and mother also, on the other +side of the wall. Findelkind was alone, wide awake, watching the big +white moon sail past his little casement and hearing Katte bleat. Where +were her poor twin lambs? The night was bitterly cold, for it was +already far on in autumn; the river had swollen and flooded many fields; +the snow for the last week had fallen quite low down on the +mountain-sides. Even if still living the little lambs would die, out on +such a night without the mother or food and shelter of any sort. +Findelkind, whose vivid brain always saw everything that he imagined as +if it were being acted before his eyes, in fancy saw his two dear lambs +floating dead down the swollen tide, entangled in rushes on the flooded +shore, or fallen with broken limbs upon a crest of rocks. He saw them so +plainly that scarcely could he hold back his breath from screaming aloud +in the still night and arousing the mourning wail of the desolate +mother. + +At last he could bear it no longer: his head burned, and his brain +seemed whirling round. At a bound he leaped out of bed quite +noiselessly, slid into his sheepskins, and stole out as he had done the +night before, hardly knowing what he did. Poor Katte was mourning in the +wooden shed with the other sheep, and the wail of her sorrow sounded +sadly across the loud roar of the rushing river. The moon was still +high. Above, against the sky, black and awful with clouds floating over +its summit, was the great Martinswand. + +Findelkind this time called the big dog Waldmar to him, and with the dog +beside him went once more out into the cold and the gloom, whilst his +father and mother, his brothers and sisters, were sleeping, and poor +childless Katte alone was awake. He looked up at the mountain, and then +across the water-swept meadows to the river. He was in doubt which way +to take. Then he thought that in all likelihood the lambs would have +been seen if they had wandered the river-way, and even little Stefan +would have had too much sense to let them go there. So he crossed the +road and began to climb Martinswand. With the instinct of the born +mountaineer he had brought out his crampons with him, and had now +fastened them on his feet: he knew every part and ridge of the +mountains, and had more than once climbed over to that very spot where +Kaiser Max had hung in peril of his life. + +On second thoughts he bade Waldmar go back to the house. The dog was a +clever mountaineer too, but Findelkind did not wish to lead him into +danger. "I have done the wrong, and I will bear the brunt," he said to +himself; for he felt as if he had killed Katte's children, and the +weight of the sin was like lead on his heart, and he would not kill good +Waldmar too. + +His little lantern did not show much light, and as he went higher upward +he lost sight of the moon. The cold was nothing to him, because the +clear still air was one in which he had been reared; and the darkness he +did not mind, because he was used to that also; but the weight of sorrow +upon him he scarcely knew how to bear, and how to find two tiny lambs in +this vast waste of silence and shadow would have puzzled and wearied +older minds than his. Garibaldi and all his household, old soldiers +tried and true, sought all night once upon Caprera on such a quest in +vain. If he could only have awakened his brother Stefan to ask him which +way they had gone! But then, to be sure, he remembered, Stefan must have +told that to all those who had been looking for the lambs from sunset to +nightfall. All alone he began the ascent. + +Time and again, in the glad spring-time and the fresh summer weather, he +had driven his flock upward to eat the grass that grew in the clefts of +the rocks and on the broad green alps. The sheep could not climb to the +highest points, but the goats did, and he with them. Time and again he +had lain on his back in these uppermost heights, with the lower clouds +behind him and the black wings of the birds and the crows almost +touching his forehead, as he lay gazing up into the blue depth of the +sky and dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. + +He would never dream any more now, he thought to himself. His dreams had +cost Katte her lambs, and the world of the dead Findelkind was gone for +ever: gone all the heroes and knights; gone all the faith and the +force; gone every one who cared for the dear Christ and the poor in +pain. + +The bells of Zirl were ringing midnight. Findelkind heard, and wondered +that only two hours had gone by since his mother had kissed him in his +bed. It seemed to him as if long, long nights had rolled away and he had +lived a hundred years. He did not feel any fear of the dark calm night, +lit now and then by silvery gleams of moon and stars. The mountain was +his old familiar friend, and the ways of it had no more terror for him +than these hills here used to have for the bold heart of Kaiser Max. +Indeed, all he thought of was Katte--Katte and the lambs. He knew the +way that the sheep-tracks ran--the sheep could not climb so high as the +goats--and he knew too that little Stefan could not climb so high as he. +So he began his search low down upon Martinswand. + +After midnight the cold increased: there were snow-clouds hanging near, +and they opened over his head, and the soft snow came flying along. For +himself he did not mind it, but alas for the lambs! If it covered them, +how would he find them? And if they slept in it they were dead. + +It was bleak and bare on the mountain-side, though there were still +patches of grass, such as the flocks liked, that had grown since the hay +was cut. The frost of the night made the stone slippery, and even the +irons gripped it with difficulty, and there was a strong wind rising +like a giant's breath, and blowing his small horn lantern to and fro. +Now and then he quaked a little with fear--not fear of the night or the +mountains, but of strange spirits and dwarfs and goblins of ill repute, +said to haunt Martinswand after nightfall. Old women had told him of +such things, though the priest always said that they were only foolish +tales, there being nothing on God's earth wicked save men and women who +had not clean hearts and hands. Findelkind believed the priest; still, +all alone on the side of the mountain, with the snowflakes flying round +him, he felt a nervous thrill that made him tremble and almost turn +backward. Almost, but not quite, for he thought of Katte and the poor +little lambs lost--and perhaps dead--through his fault. + +The path went zigzag and was very steep; the Siberian pines swayed their +boughs in his face; stones that lay in his path, unseen in the gloom, +made him stumble. Now and then a large bird of the night flew by with a +rushing sound: the air grew so cold that all Martinswand might have been +turning to one huge glacier. All at once he heard through the +stillness--for there is nothing so still as a mountain-side in snow--a +little pitiful bleat. All his terrors vanished, all his memories of +ghost-tales passed away; his heart gave a leap of joy; he was sure it +was the cry of the lambs. He stopped to listen more surely. He was now +many score of feet above the level of his home and of Zirl: he was, as +nearly as he could judge, halfway as high as where the cross in the +cavern marks the spot of the kaiser's peril. The little bleat sounded +above him, and it was very feeble and faint. + +Findelkind set his lantern down, braced himself up by drawing tighter +his old leathern girdle, set his sheepskin cap firm on his forehead, and +went toward the sound as far as he could judge that it might be. He was +out of the woods now: there were only a few straggling pines rooted here +and there in a mass of loose-lying rock and slate. So much he could tell +by the light of the lantern, and the lambs, by the bleating, seemed +still above him. + +It does not perhaps seem very hard labor to hunt about by a dusky light +upon a desolate mountain-side, but when the snow is falling fast, when +the light is only a small circle, wavering yellowish on the white, when +around is a wilderness of loose stones and yawning clefts, when the air +is ice and the hour is past midnight, the task is not a light one for a +man; and Findelkind was a child, like that Findelkind that was in +heaven. + +Long, very long, was his search: he grew hot and forgot all fear, except +a spasm of terror lest his light should burn low and die out. The +bleating had quite ceased now, and there was not even a sigh to guide +him; but he knew that near him the lambs must be, and he did not waver +nor despair. + +He did not pray--praying in the morning had been no use--but he trusted +in God, and he labored hard, toiling to and fro, seeking in every nook +and behind each stone, and straining every muscle and nerve, till the +sweat rolled in a briny dew off his forehead and his curls dripped with +wet. At last, with a scream of joy, he touched some soft, close wool +that gleamed white as the white snow. He knelt down on the ground and +peered behind the stone by the full light of his lantern: there lay the +little lambs--two little brothers, twin brothers, huddled close +together, asleep. Asleep? He was sure they were asleep, for they were so +silent and still. + +He bowed over them and kissed them, and laughed and cried, and kissed +them again. Then a sudden horror smote him: they were so very still. +There they lay, cuddled close, one on another, one little white head on +each little white body, drawn closer than ever together to try and get +warm. He called to them; he touched them; then he caught them up in his +arms, and kissed them again and again and again. Alas! they were frozen +and dead. Never again would they leap in the long green grass, and frisk +with one another, and lie happy by Katte's side: they had died calling +for their mother, and in the long, cold, cruel night only Death had +answered. + +Findelkind did not weep nor scream nor tremble: his heart seemed frozen, +like the dead lambs. It was he who had killed them. He rose up and +gathered them in his arms, and cuddled them in the skirts of his +sheepskin tunic, and cast his staff away that he might carry them; and +so, thus burdened with their weight, set his face to the snow and the +wind once more and began his downward way. Once a great sob shook him: +that was all. Now he had no fear. The night might have been noonday, the +snowstorm might have been summer, for aught that he knew or cared. + +Long and weary was the way, and often he stumbled and had to rest; +often the terrible sleep of the snow lay heavy on his eyelids, and he +longed to lie down and be at rest, as the little brothers were; often it +seemed to him that he would never reach home again. But he shook the +lethargy off him and resisted the longing, and held on his way: he knew +that his mother would mourn for him as Katte mourned for the lambs. At +length, through all difficulty and danger, when his light had spent +itself, and his strength had wellnigh spent itself too, his feet touched +the old highroad. There were flickering torches and many people and loud +cries around the church, as there had been four hundred years before, +when the last sacrament had been said in the valley for the hunter-king +doomed to perish above. His mother, being sleepless and anxious, had +risen long before it was dawn, and had gone to the children's chamber, +and had found the bed of Findelkind empty once more. + +He came into the midst of the people with the two little lambs in his +arms, and he heeded neither the outcries of neighbors nor the frenzied +joy of his mother: his eyes looked straight before him and his face was +white like the snow. "I killed them," he said; and then two great tears +rolled down his cheeks and fell on the little cold bodies of the two +little dead twin brothers. + +Findelkind was very ill for many nights and many days after that. +Whenever he spoke in his fever he always said, "I killed them." Never +anything else. So the dreary winter months went by, while the deep snow +filled up valleys and meadows and covered the great mountains from +summit to base, and all around Martinswand was quite still, save that +now and then the post went by to Zirl, and on the holy days the bells +tolled: that was all. His mother sat between the stove and his bed with +a sore heart; and his father, as he went to and fro between the walls of +beaten snow from the wood-shed to the cattle-byre, was sorrowful, +thinking to himself the child would die and join that earlier Findelkind +whose home was with the saints. + +But the child did not die. He lay weak and wasted and almost motionless +a long time, but slowly, as the spring-time drew near, and the snows on +the lower hills loosened, and the abounding waters coursed green and +crystal-clear down all the sides of the hills, Findelkind revived as the +earth did, and by the time the new grass was springing and the first +blue of the gentian gleamed on the Alps he was well. + +But to this day he seldom plays, and scarcely ever laughs. His face is +sad and his eyes have a look of trouble. Sometimes the priest of Zirl +says of him to others, "He will be a great poet or a great hero some +day." Who knows? + +Meanwhile, in the heart of the child there remains always a weary pain +that lies on his childish life as a stone may lie on a flower. "I killed +them," he says often to himself, thinking of the two little white +brothers frozen to death on Martinswand that cruel night; and he does +the things that are told him, and is obedient, and tries to be content +with the humble daily duties that are his lot, and when he says his +prayers at bedtime always ends them so: "Dear God, do let the little +lambs play with Findelkind that is in heaven." + + OUIDA. + + + + +HORSE-RACING IN FRANCE. + +CONCLUDING PAPER. + + +By the end of July the dispersion of the racing fraternity has become +general. Some have gone into the provinces to lead the pleasant life of +the chateau; some are in the Pyrenees, eating trout and _cotelettes +d'izard_ at Luchon; while those whom the Paris season has quite worn +out, or put in what they would call too "high" a condition, are +refitting at Mont Dore or else at Vichy, which is the Saratoga of +France--with this difference, that nobody goes to Vichy unless he is +really ill, and that very few were ever known to get married there. But +if our friend the sportsman should happen to have nothing the matter +with him, and should know of nothing better to do during the summer than +to go where his equine instincts would lead him, he may spend the month +of July at least in following what is called "the Norman circuit." This +consists of a series of meetings at different places, either on the +coast or very near the Channel, in that green land of Normandy which is +to France what the blue-grass region of Kentucky is to America--the +great horse-raising province of the country. Here the circuit begins +with the Beauvais meeting, always largely attended by reason of its +proximity to Paris and to the numerous chateaux, all occupied at this +season of the year, and in one of which, at Mouchy-le-Chastel, the duc +de Mouchy entertains a large and distinguished company. Sunday and +Tuesday are the days for races at Beauvais, Monday being given up to +pigeon-shooting. Then follow in quick succession the _courses_ of +Amiens, Abbeville, Rouen, Havre and Caen; and in all these places the +daily programme will be found to be a very varied one--too much so, +indeed, to suit the taste of the English, whose notions of the fitness +of things are offended by the sight of a steeple-chase and a flat-race +on the same track. The Normans, on the contrary, finding even this +double attraction insufficient, add to it the excitement of a +trotting-match in harness and under the saddle. And such trotting! +"Allais! marchais!" shouts the starter in good Norman, and away go the +horses, dragging their lumbering, rattling Norman carts, guided by +equally ponderous Norman peasants, over a track that is sure to be heavy +or else too hard--conditions sufficient of themselves to account for the +fact that the time made by these provincial trotters has not by any +means been reduced to figures like the 2.18 of Dexter or the phenomenal +2.14 of Goldsmith Maid. It is possible, however, that this somewhat +primitive condition of things may be gradually bettered by time, and +that when American institutions and customs shall have come to be the +_mode_ in France trotting-races, and perhaps walking-matches and +base-ball, will be developed with the rest; but up to the present time, +it must be confessed, these various amusements have been regarded by the +French public with profound indifference. + +I cannot help feeling the most lively regret that trotting-contests +should have taken no hold upon the fancy of my countrymen, who would +find in their magnificent roads an opportunity for the demonstration of +the practical, every-day value of a good trotter far more favorable than +any possessed by America. But it seems that no considerations of utility +or convenience can prevail against popular prejudices and, above all, +the _mode_; and we find even the baron d'Etreilles, official handicapper +and starter to the Jockey Club--and therefore an authority--writing this +singular paragraph in _Le Sport_: "Trotting-races deserve but little +encouragement. The so-called trotting-horse does not, in fact, trot at +all. His pace is forced to such a degree of exaggeration as to lose all +regularity, at the same time that it is rendered valueless for any +practical purpose. The trotter can no more be put to his speed upon an +ordinary road than can the racer himself. By breaking up the natural +gait of a horse he is made to attain an exceptional speed, it is true, +but in doing so he has contracted an abnormal sort of movement for which +it is impossible to find a name. It is something between a trot and a +racking pace, and with it a first-rate trotter can make four kilometres +(two miles and a half) in seven minutes and a half, and not much less, +whatever may be said to the contrary. I know that certain time-keepers +have marked this distance as having been done in seven minutes, but this +I consider disputable, to say the least." M. d'Etreilles cites, however, +as an exception to his rules, a horse called Rochester, belonging to the +Prince E. de Beauvan, which trotted nineteen miles in one hour without +breaking or pacing, but when a return bet was proposed, with the +distance increased to twenty miles, the owner of Rochester refused. + +These assertions of the French authority will appear strange enough to +Americans. But we must add that the views of M. d'Etreilles on this +subject are by no means universally shared in France. A writer whose +practical experience and long observation entitle his opinions to much +weight--M. Gayot--goes so far as to say that the American trotters +really form a distinct race. "The Northern States of the Union," he +writes, "have accomplished for the trotter what England has done for the +thoroughbred: by selecting the best--that is to say, the swiftest and +the most enduring--and by breeding from these, there has been fixed in +the very nature of their progeny that wonderful aptitude for speed +which," in direct contradiction to the opinion of M. d'Etreilles, he +declares to be "of the greatest practical utility." + +The administration of the Haras and the Society for the Encouragement of +the Raising of Horses of Half-blood have established special meetings at +which trotting-prizes are given. That these are by no means to be +despised has been proved by M. Jouben's Norman trotter Tentateur, who +last year earned for his owner twenty thousand francs without the bets. +There is a special journal, _La France Chevaline_, which represents the +interests of the "trot," and its development has been further encouraged +by an appropriation of sixty thousand francs voted this year by the +Chamber. A former officer of the Haras has also set up an establishment +at Vire for the training of trotters. In 1878 a track was laid out at +Maison Lafitte, near Paris, for the trial of trotting-horses, and the +government, in the hope that animals trained to this gait would be sent +to Paris from other countries during the great Exhibition if sufficient +inducement were offered, awarded a sum of sixty-two thousand francs to +be given in premiums. Six races took place on the principal day of the +trials. These were in harness to two- and four-wheeled wagons, and two +of the matches were won by Normans, two by English horses and two by +horses from Russia of the Orloff breed. America was, unfortunately, not +represented. As to the public, it took little interest in the event, +notwithstanding its novelty: the few persons who had come to look on +soon grew tired of it, and after the fourth race not a single spectator +was left upon the stands. + +The marquis de MacMahon, brother of the marshal, used to say that the +gallop was the gait of happy people, the natural movement of women and +of fools. "The three prettiest things in the world," wrote Balzac, "are +a frigate under sail, a woman dancing and a horse at full run." I leave +these opinions, so essentially French, to the judgment of Americans, and +turn to another point of difference in the racing customs of the two +countries. + +In France the practice of recording the _time_ of a race is looked upon +as childish. The reason given is, that horses that have run or trotted +separately against time will often show quite contrary results when +matched against each other, and that the one that has made the shortest +time on the separate trial will frequently be easily beaten on the same +track by the one that showed less speed when tried alone. However this +may be, it appears that the average speed of running races in France has +increased since 1872. At that time it was one minute and two to three +seconds for one thousand metres (five furlongs); for two thousand +metres (a mile and a quarter), 2m. 8 to 10s.; for three thousand metres +(one mile seven furlongs), 3m. 34 to 35s.; for four thousand metres (two +miles and a half), 4m. 30 to 35s. The distance of the Prix Gladiateur +(six thousand two hundred metres or three and three-quarter miles one +furlong)--the longest in France--is generally accomplished in 8m. 5 to +6s., though Mon Etoile has done it in 7m. 25s. But the mean speed, as we +have said, has been raised since 1872, as it has been in America. + +But let us come back to our Norman circuit, which this digression about +time and trotting interrupted at Rouen. The sleepy old mediaeval town on +this occasion rouses itself from its dreams of the past and awakens to +welcome the crowd of Norman farmers who come flocking in, clad for the +most part in the national blue blouse, but still bearing about their +persons those unmistakable though quite indescribable marks by which the +turfman can recognize at a glance and under any costume the man whose +business is with horses. Every trade and calling in life perhaps may be +said to impart to its followers some distinguishing peculiarity by which +the brethren of the craft at least will instinctively know each other; +and amongst horse-fanciers these mysterious signs of recognition are as +infallible as the signals of Freemasonry. As one penetrates still +farther into Normandy on his way to the Caen races--which come off a few +days after those at Rouen--one becomes still more alive to the fact that +he is in a great horse-raising country. It is indeed to the departments +of Calvados and the Orne beyond all other places that we owe those fine +Norman stallions of which so many have been imported into America. In +the Pin stud, at the fairs of Guibray and of Montagne, one may see the +descendants of the colossal Roman-nosed horses of Merlerault and +Cotentin which used to bear the weight of riders clad in iron, and which +figure at a later day in the pictures of Van der Meulen. The infusion of +English blood within the present century, and particularly during the +Second Empire, has profoundly modified the character of the animal +known to our ancestors: the Norman, with the rest of the various races +once so numerous in France, is rapidly disappearing, and it will not be +very long before two uniform types only will prevail--the draught-horse +and the thoroughbred. + +The race-course at Caen is one of the oldest in France, having been +established as long ago as 1837. The most important events of its +programme are the Prix de la Ville (handicap), with premium and stakes +amounting to twenty or twenty-five thousand francs, on which the +heaviest bets of the intermediate season are made, and the Grand St. +Leger of France, which before the war took place at Moulins, and which +is far from being of equal importance with the celebrated race at +Doncaster whose name it bears. The site of the track at Caen is a +beautiful meadow upon the banks of the Orne, very long and bordered with +fine trees, but unfortunately too narrow, and consequently awkward at +the turns. + +By the rules of the Societe colts of two years are not allowed to run +before the first of August, and as the Caen races take place during the +first week of this month, they have the first gathering of the season's +crop of two-year-olds--an event which naturally excites the curiosity of +followers of the turf. The wisdom and utility of subjecting animals of +this age to such a strain upon their powers have been much discussed, +and good judges have strongly condemned the precocious training +involved, as tending to check the natural development of the horse, and +sometimes putting a premature end to his career as a racer. In England +these races have been multiplied to abuse. There are signs of a +reaction, however, in France, where several owners of racing-stables, +following the example set by M. Lupin, have found their advantage in +refusing to take part in the pernicious practice. For, after all, these +first trials really prove nothing at all. They are found to furnish no +standard by which any accurate measure can be taken of the future +achievements of the horse. In fact, if one will take the trouble to +examine the lists of winners of these two-year-old criterions, as they +are called, he will find but very few names that have afterward become +illustrious in the annals of the turf. + +The races of Caen over, their followers take themselves some few leagues +farther upon their circuit, to attend the meeting at Cabourg, one of +those pretty little towns, made up of about a hundred villas, four +hotels, a church and a casino, that lie scattered along the Norman coast +like beads of a broken necklace. Living is dear in these stylish little +out-of-the-way places, and this naturally keeps away the more plebeian +element that frequents the great centres. About the fifteenth of August +begins the week of races at Deauville, the principal event of the Norman +circuit, bringing together not unfrequently as many as a hundred and +sixty horses, and ranking, in fact, as third in importance in all +France, the meetings at Longchamps and Chantilly alone taking precedence +of it. It is to the duc de Morny that Deauville owes the existence of +its "hippodrome," but the choice of this bit of sandy beach, that seemed +to have been thrown up and abandoned by the sea like a waif, cannot be +called a happy one. It may be, however, that the duke's selection of the +site was determined by its proximity to the luxuriant valley of the +Auge, so famous for its excellent pasturage and for the number of its +stables. The Victor stud belonging to M. Aumont, that of Fervacques, the +property of M. de Montgomery, and the baron de Rothschild's +establishment at Meautry, are all in the immediate neighborhood of +Deauville; but even these advantages do not compensate for the +unfavorable character of the track, laid out, as we have said, upon land +from which the sea had receded, and which, as might have been expected, +was sure to be hard and cracked in a dry season. To remedy this most +serious defect, and to bring the ground to its present degree of +excellence, large sums had to be expended. The aspect of the race-course +to-day, however, is really charming. A rustic air has been given to the +stands, the ring, even to the stables that enclose the paddock, but it +is a rusticity quite compatible with elegance, like that of the pretty +Norman farm in the garden of Trianon. The purse for two-year-olds used +to be called, under the Empire, the Prix Morny, but this name was +withdrawn at the same time that the statue of the duke, which once stood +in Deauville, was pulled down. + +Our Norman circuit comes to a close with the races at Dieppe, which +finished last year on the 26th of August. Dieppe was celebrated during +the Empire for its steeple-chases, which were run upon a somewhat hilly +ground left almost in its natural state--a very unusual thing in France. +The flat- and hurdle-races which have succeeded to these since the war +are not of sufficient importance to detain us. + +Returning from this agreeable summer jaunt, in which the pleasures of +sea-bathing have added a zest to the enjoyment of the race-course, the +followers of the turf will seek, on coming back to Paris in the early +days of September, the autumn meetings at Fontainebleau and at +Longchamps. But they will not find the paddock of the latter at this +season of the year bustling with the life and fashion that gave it such +brilliancy in the spring, and the "return from the races" is made up of +little else than hired cabs drawn by broken-down steeds. It is just the +period when Paris, crowded with economical strangers, English or +German--the former on their return, perhaps, from Switzerland, the +latter enjoying their vacation after their manner--mourns the absence of +her own gay world. The _haute gomme_--the swells, the upper ten--are +still in the provinces. They have left the sea-side, it is true--it was +time for that--but the season in the Pyrenees is not over yet, and +Luchon and Bigone will be full until the middle of September, and not +before the month is ended will Biarritz give up her pleasure-seekers. +The opening of the shooting season on the first Sunday of September has +scattered the sportsmen throughout the twenty-five or thirty departments +in which there is still left a chance of finding game. But the best +shooting is in the neighborhood of Paris, in the departments of +Seine-et-Marne and Seine-et-Oise--at Grosbois with the prince de +Wagram; at St. Germain-les-Corbeil on the estate of M. Darblay; at +Bois-Boudran with the comte de Greffuhle; or at the chateau of the baron +de Rothschild at Ferrieres; and the numerous guests of these gentlemen +may, if they are inclined, take a day to see the Omnium or the Prix +Royal Oak run between two _battues aux faisans_. The Omnium is the most +important of the handicaps: it is the French Caesarewitch, though with a +difference. The distance of the latter is two miles and two furlongs, +that of the Omnium but a mile and a half. The value of the stakes is +generally from twenty-five to thirty thousand francs. As its name would +indicate, this race, by exception to the fundamental principle of the +Jockey Club, is open to horses of every kind, without regard to +pedigree, above the age of three years. A horse that has gained a prize +of two thousand francs after the publication of the weights is +handicapped with an overweight of two kilogrammes and a half (a trifle +over five pounds); if he has gained several such, with three kilos; if +he is the winner of an eight-thousand-franc purse, he has to carry an +overweight of four kilos, or one of five kilos if he has won more than +one race of the value last mentioned. The publication of the weights +takes place at the end of June, when the betting begins. Heavy and +numerous are the wagers on this important race, and as the prospects of +the various horses entered change from time to time according to the +prizes gained and the overweights incurred, the quotation naturally +undergoes the most unlooked-for variations. A lot of money is won and +lost before the real favorites have revealed themselves; that is to say, +before the last week preceding the race. The winner of the Omnium is +hardly ever a horse of the first rank, and the baron d'Etreilles +undertakes to tell us why. The object of the handicap, he says, being to +equalize the chances of several horses of different degrees of merit, +the handicapper is in a manner obliged to make it next to impossible for +the first-rate horses to win; otherwise, the owners of the inferior +animals, seeing that they had no chance, would prefer to pay forfeit, +and the harmony, as it were, of the contest--the even balancing of +chances, which is of the very essence of the handicap--would be lacking. +On the other hand, the handicapper cannot bring the chances of the +really bad horses up to the mean average, no matter how much he may +favor them in the weights, and thus it nearly always turns out that the +Omnium, like every other important handicap, is won by a horse of the +second class, generally a three-year-old, whose real merits have been +hidden from the handicapper. This concealment is not so difficult as it +might seem. There are certain owners who, when they have satisfied +themselves by trials made before the spring races that they have in +their stables a few horses not quite good enough to stand a chance in +the great contests, but still by no means without valuable qualities, +prefer to reserve them for an important affair like the Omnium, on which +they can bet heavily and to advantage, especially if they have a "dark +horse," or one that is as yet unknown. Otherwise, to what use could +these second-rate horses be put? If one should run them in the spring +they might get one or two of the smaller stakes, after which everybody +would have their measure. Their owners, therefore, show wisdom in +keeping them out of sight, or perhaps, as some of the shrewder ones do, +by running them when rather out of condition, and thus ensuring their +defeat by adversaries really inferior to themselves. In this way the +handicapper is deceived as to their true qualities, and is induced to +weight them advantageously for the Omnium. + +Many readers but little conversant with turf matters will no doubt be +scandalized to hear of these tricks of the trade, and will be apt to +conclude that good faith is no more the fashion at Longchamps than at +the Bourse, and that cleverness in betting, as in stockjobbing, consists +in knowing when to depreciate values and when to inflate them, as one +happens to be a bull or a bear in the market. The truth is, that no +rules can be devised, either by Jockey Clubs or by imperial parliaments, +that can put a stop to these abuses: they will exist, in spite of +legislation, as long as the double character of owner and better can be +united in the same person. If this person should not act in perfect good +faith, all restraining laws will be illusory, because the betting owner +has the cards in his own hands, and can withdraw a horse or make him run +at his pleasure, or even make him lose a race in case of need. If the +thing is managed with skill, it is almost impossible to discover the +deception. In 1877, at Deauville, the comte de Clermont-Tonnere and his +jockey, Goddart, were expelled from the turf because the latter had +"pulled" his horse in such a clumsy and unmistakable way that the +spectators could not fail to see it. This circumstance was without +precedent in France, and yet how often has the trick, which in this case +was exposed, been practised without any one being the wiser for it! It +ought to be added that the betters make one claim that is altogether +unreasonable, and that is--at least this is the only inference from +their talk--that when they have once "taken" a horse, as they call it, +in a race, the owner thereby loses a part of his proprietorship in the +animal, and is bound to share his rights of ownership with them. But one +cannot thus limit the rights of property, and as long as the owner does +not purposely lose a race, and does not deceive the handicapper as to +the real value of his horse for the purpose of getting a reduction of +weights, he can surely do as he pleases with his own. There will remain, +of course, the question of morality and of delicacy, of which each one +must be the judge for himself. M. Lupin, for example, and Lord Falmouth, +when they have two horses engaged for the same purse, always let these +take their chances, and do nothing to prevent the better horse from +being the winner, while the comte de Lagrange, as we have had occasion +to observe before, has acquired the reputation of winning, if he can, +with his worst animal, or at least with the one upon whose success the +public has least counted. This is what took place when he gained the +Grand Prix de Paris in 1877 with an outsider, St. Christophe, whilst +all the betters had calculated upon the victory of his other horse, +Verneuil. So the duke of Hamilton in 1878 at Goodwood, where one of his +horses was the favorite, declared just at the start that he meant to win +with another, and by his orders the favorite was pulled double at the +finish. The same year, in America, Mr. Lorillard caused Parole, then a +two-year-old, to be beaten by one of his stable-companions and one +decidedly his inferior. When this sort of thing is done the ring makes a +great uproar about it, but without reason, for there can be no question +of an owner's right to save his best horse, if he can, from a future +overweight by winning with another not so good. Only he ought frankly to +declare his intention to do so before the race. + +The autumn stakes that rank next in importance to the Omnium are known +as the Prix Royal Oak, open, like its counterpart, the St. Leger of +Doncaster, to colts and fillies of three years only, with an unloading +of three pounds for the latter. On this occasion one will have an +opportunity of seeing again in the Bois de Boulogne the contestants of +the great prizes of the spring. The Royal Oak is nearly always won by a +horse of the first class, and in the illustrious list may be found the +names of Gladiateur and of four winners of the French Derby--Patricien, +Boiard, Kilt and Jongleur. + +In October, Longchamps is deserted for Chantilly, where the trials of +two-year-olds take place--the first criterion for horses, the second +criterion for fillies--the distance in these two races being eight +hundred metres, or half a mile. The Grand Criterion, for colts and +fillies, has a distance of double this, or one mile (sixteen hundred +metres). Since their debuts in August at Caen and Deauville the young +horses have had time to harden and to show better what they are made of; +and it is in the Grand Criterion that one looks for the most certain +indications of their future career. The names of the winners will be +found to include many that have afterward become celebrated, such as Mon +Etoile, Stradella, Le Bearnais, Mongoubert, Sornette, Revigny and +others. + +Chantilly is the birthplace of racing in France. In the winter of +1833--the same year which also witnessed the foundation of the Jockey +Club--Prince Labanoff, who was then living at Chantilly, and who had +secured the privilege of hunting in the forest, invited several +well-known lovers of the chase to join him in the sport. Tempted by the +elasticity of the turf, it occurred to the hunters to get up a race, and +meeting at the Constable's Table--a spot where once stood the stump of a +large tree on which, as the story goes, the constable of France used to +dine--they improvised a race-course which has proved the prolific mother +of the tracks to be found to-day all over the country. In this first +trial M. de Normandie was the winner. The fate of Chantilly was decided. +Since the suicide--or the assassination--of the last of the Condes the +castle had been abandoned, the duc d'Aumale, its inheritor, being then a +minor. The little town itself seemed dying of exhaustion. It was +resolved to infuse into it a new life by taking advantage of the +exceptional quality of its turf. The soil is a rather hard sand, +resisting pressure, elastic, and covered with a fine thick sward, and of +a natural drainage so excellent that even the longest rains have no +visible effect upon it. On this ground--as good as, if not better than, +that at Newmarket--there is to-day a track of two thousand metres, or a +mile and a quarter--the distance generally adopted in France--with good +turns, excepting the one known as the "Reservoirs," which is rather +awkward, and which has the additional disadvantage of skirting the road +to the training-stables--a temptation to bolt that is sometimes too +strong for horses of a doubtful character. For this reason there is +sometimes a little confusion in the field at this point. Before coming +to the last turn there is a descent, followed by a rise--both of them +pretty stiff--and this undoubtedly has its effect on the result, for the +lazier horses fall away a little on the ascent. Just at this point too a +clump of trees happens to hide the track from the spectators on the +stands, and all the lorgnettes are turned on the summit of the rise to +watch for the reappearance of the horses, who are pretty sure to turn up +in a different order from that in which they were last seen. This crisis +of the race is sometimes very exciting. A magnificent forest of beech +borders and forms a background to the race-course in the rear of the +stands; in front rise the splendid and imposing stables of the duc +d'Aumale, built by Mansard for the Great Conde; on the right is the +pretty Renaissance chateau of His Royal Highness; while the view loses +itself in a vast horizon of distant forest and hills of misty blue. The +stands are the first that were erected in France, and in 1833 they +seemed no doubt the height of comfort and elegance, but to-day they are +quite too small to accommodate the ever-increasing crowd. The stands as +well as the stables, and the race-course itself, all belong to the duc +d'Aumale, who gave a splendid house-warming and brilliant fete last +October to celebrate the completion of the restorations of his ancestral +chateau. Under the Empire, the property of the Orleans princes having +been confiscated, a nominal transfer of Chantilly was made to a friend +of the family. The emperor, having one day signified his wish to witness +the Derby, had the mortification on his arrival to find the reserved +stand closed against him by the prince's orders. It was necessary to +force the gate. The emperor took the hint, however, and never went to +Chantilly again. + +The soil of the Forest of Fontainebleau being of the same nature as that +of the turf in the open, the alleys of the park furnish an invaluable +resource to the trainer. For this reason, since racing has come in +vogue, most of the stables have found their way to Chantilly or to its +immediate neighborhood, where one of the largest and finest alleys of +the forest, running parallel to the railway and known as the Alley of +the Lions, has been given up to their use. Thus, Chantilly, with its +Derby Day and its training-grounds, may be called at once the Epsom and +the Newmarket of France. There is hardly a horse, with the exception of +those of the comte de Lagrange and of M. Lupin, and those of Henry +Jennings, the public trainer, that is not "worked" in the Alley of the +Lions. The Societe d'Encouragement has control of the training-ground as +well as of the track, and also claims the right to keep spectators away +from the trial-gallops, so that the duc d'Aumale, whose proprietary +privileges are thus usurped, is often at war with the society. He has +stag-hunts twice a week during the winter, on Mondays and Thursdays, and +now and then on Sundays too--as he did with the grand duke of Austria on +his late visit to Chantilly--and he naturally objects to having the hunt +cut in two by the gallops over his principal avenue. He worries the +trainers to such a degree that they begin to talk of quitting Chantilly +for some more hospitable quarters. When things get to this pass the +duke, who, in his character of councillor-general, is bound to look +after the interests of his constituents, relents, and putting aside his +personal wrongs calls a parley with the stewards of the races, offers a +new prize--an object of art perhaps--or talks of enlarging the stands, +and the gage of reconciliation being accepted, peace is made to last +until some new _casus belli_ shall occur. His Royal Highness is not +forgetful of the duties of his position. When he is at Chantilly on a +race-day he gracefully does the honors of his reserved stand to all the +little Orleanist court. Since the reconciliation that took place between +the comte de Paris and the comte de Chambord in 1873 this miniature +court has been enlarged by the addition of several personages of the +Legitimist circle, and the "ring" at Chantilly is often graced with a +most distinguished and aristocratic assemblage. Amongst the beauties of +this brilliant company may be especially noticed Madame de Viel-Castel, +the young princesse Amede de Broglie, the duchesse de Chaulnes with her +strange, unconventional type of beauty, Madame Ferdinand Bischoffsheim, +the comtesse Beugnot, the comtesse Tanneguy-Duchatel and the princesse +de Sagan. And when all this gay party has dispersed, and the duke is +left to his cigar--as constant a companion as the historical weed in +the mouth of General Grant--he might almost fancy, as he walks the great +street of his good town, that he is back again at Twickenham in the days +of his exile. There is something to remind him on every side of the +country that once sheltered him. To right and left are English +farrieries, English saddleries, and English bars and taverns too. +English is the language that reaches his ears, and English of the most +"horsey" sort that one can hear this side of Newmarket. Everybody has +the peculiar gait and costume that belong to the English horseman: the +low-crowned hat, the short jacket, those tight trousers and big, strong +boots, are not to be mistaken. It is a little world in itself, in which +no Frenchman could long exist, but its peculiar inhabitants have not, +for all that, neglected anything that may attract the young folk of the +country. They have even offered the bribe of a race in which only French +jockeys are permitted to ride, but these, with only an exception here +and there, have very promptly given up the business, disgusted either by +the severe regimen required in the matter of diet or by the rigorous +discipline indispensable in a training-stable. The few exceptions to +which I have referred have not sufficed to prevent this race from +falling into disrepute; but it may be worth mentioning that on the last +occasion on which it was run, the 19th October last, when but three or +four horses were engaged, the baron de Bize, with what has been called a +veritable inspiration of genius, threw an unlooked-for interest into the +event by mounting in person M. Camille Blanc's horse Nonancourt, and +winning the race with him. It is to be borne in mind that the riders +must not only have been born in France, but must be of French parentage +on the side of both father and mother. + +The best-known jockeys are nearly all the children of English parents, +and have first seen the light in the little colony at Chantilly or else +have been brought very young into France. I give some of their names, +classed according to the number of victories gained by them respectively +in 1878: Hunter, who generally rides for M. Fould, 47 victories; +Wheeler, head-jockey and trainer for M. Ed. Blanc, 45 victories; Hislop, +39; Hudson, ex-jockey to M. Lupin, who gained last year the Grand Prix +de Paris, 36 victories; Rolf, 35; Carratt, 32; Goater, who rides for the +comte de Lagrange, and who is well known in England; and Edwards, whose +"mount" was at one time quite the mode, and whose tragical death on the +3d of October last created a painful sensation. When Lamplugh was +training for the duke of Hamilton he made Edwards "first stable-boy," +and this and his subsequent successes excited a violent jealousy in one +of his stable-companions named Page. The two jockeys separated, but +instead of fighting a duel, as Frenchmen might have done, they simply +rode against each other one day at Auteuil--Page on Leona, and Edwards +on Peau-d'Ane. The struggle was a desperate one: both riders got bad +falls from their exhausted mares, and from that time poor Edwards never +regained his _aplomb_. He frequently came to grief afterward, and met +his death in consequence of a fall from Slowmatch at Maison Lafitte. + +One of the oldest celebrities of Chantilly is Charles Pratt, formerly +trainer and jockey for the baron Niviere and for the late Charles +Lafitte, and at present in the service of the prince d'Aremberg. His +system of training approached very nearly that of Henry Jennings, under +whose orders and instructions he had worked for a long time. His horses +were always just in the right condition on the day they were wanted, and +as he never allowed them to be overridden, their legs remained uninjured +for many years--a thing that has become too rare in France as well as in +England. As a jockey Pratt possessed, better than any other, that +knowledge of pace without which a rider is sure to commit irreparable +mistakes. At the Grand Prix de Paris of 1870, when he rode Sornette, he +undertook the daring feat of keeping the head of the field from the +start to the finish. Such an enterprise in a race so important and so +trying as this demanded the nicest instinct for pace and the most +thorough knowledge, which as trainer he already possessed, of the +impressionable nature and high qualities of his mare. + +The autumn meetings at Chantilly close the legitimate season in France. +The affairs at Tours are of little interest except to the foreign +colony--which at this season of the year is pretty numerous in +Touraine--and to the people of the surrounding country. On these +occasions the cavalry officers in garrison at Tours get up paper hunts, +a species of sport which is rapidly growing in favor and promises to +become a national pastime. Whatever interest attaches to the November +races at Bordeaux is purely local. Turfmen who cannot get through the +winter without the sight of the jockeys' silk jackets and the +bookmakers' mackintoshes must betake themselves to Pau in December. The +first of the four winter meetings takes place during this month upon a +heath at a distance of four kilometres--say about two miles and a +half--from the town. The exceptional climate and situation of Pau, where +the frozen-out fox-hunters of England come to hunt, and where there is a +populous American colony, will no doubt before long give a certain +importance to these races, but just now the local committee is short of +funds and the stakes have been insufficient to offer an attraction to +good horses. Last winter in one of the steeple-chases _all_ the horses +tumbled pell-mell into the river, which was the very first obstacle they +encountered, and although the public was quite used to seeing riders +come to grief, it found the incident somewhat extraordinary. + +The meetings at Nice, the queen of all winter residences in Europe, are +much finer and more worthy of attention. They begin in January, and the +programme has to be arranged almost exclusively for steeple-chases and +hurdle-races, as flat-racers are not in condition for running at the +time when the season at Nice is at its height. The greater number, and +particularly the best, of the racers have important engagements for the +spring meetings at Paris and at Chantilly, and even in view of really +valuable prizes they could not afford at this time of year to undergo a +complete preparation, which would advance them too rapidly in their +training and would make it impossible to have them in prime condition in +the spring. The race-course at Nice is charmingly situated in the valley +of the Var. The perfume of flowers from numerous beds reaches the +stands, where one may enjoy a magnificent view of mountain and sea, +whilst a good band discourses music in the intervals of the races. Some +of the prizes are important. The Grand Prix de Monaco, for instance, +popularly known as "The Cup", consists of an object of art given by the +prince of Monaco and a purse of twenty thousand francs, without counting +the entrance-stakes. On the second day is run the great hurdle handicap +for seventy-five hundred francs called the Prix de Monte Carlo, and on +the third and last day of the meeting the Grand Prix de Nice, a free +handicap steeple-chase for a purse of ten thousand francs. + +The international pigeon-shooting matches at Monaco, which occur at the +same time, contribute, with the races, to give an extraordinary +animation to this period of the season at Nice. The betting-ring feels +the influence of the proximity of the gaming-tables, where everybody +goes; and yet one could so easily exchange this feverish life of play +for the calmer enjoyments of the capital _cuisine_ of London House and +an after-dinner stroll on the English Promenade or the terraces of Monte +Carlo, in dreamy contemplation of the mountains with their misty grays +and a sea and sky of such heavenly blue. But no: this charming programme +is wantonly rejected: not the finest orchestras, not the prettiest +fetes, not the newest chansonettes sung by Judie and Jeanne Granier +themselves, can turn the players for a moment from the pursuit of their +one absorbing passion. Play goes on at the Casino of Monte Carlo the +livelong day, the only relaxation from the _couleur gagnante_ or _tiers +et tout_ being when the gamblers step across the way to take a shot at +the pigeons or a bet on the birds; for they must bet on something, if it +is but on the number of the box from which the next victim will fly. And +when in the evening the players have returned to Nice it is only to +indulge the fierce passion again in playing baccarat--the terrible +Parisian baccarat--at the Massena Club or at the Mediterranean, where +the betting is even higher than at Monaco. Hundreds of thousands of +francs change hands every hour from noon to six o'clock in the morning +in this gambling-hell--a hell disguised in the colors of Paradise. + +But let us fly from the perilous neighborhood and reach the nearest +race-course by the fastest train we can find. The passion for the turf +is healthier than the other, and its ends not so much in need of +concealment. Unluckily, we shall not find just at this season--that +is to say, in February--anything going on excepting a few +steeple-chases--some "jumping business," as the English say rather +contemptuously. In England there are certain owners, such as Lord +Lonsdale, Captain Machell, Mr. Brayley and others, who, though well +known in flat-races, have also good hunters in their stables, while the +proprietors of the latter in France confine themselves exclusively to +this specialty. Perhaps the best known amongst them are the baron Jules +Finot and the marquis de St. Sauveur. Most of the members of the Jockey +Club affect to look down upon the "illegitimate" sport, as they call it. +It would seem, however, that this disdain is hardly justifiable, for as +a spectacle at least a steeple-chase is certainly more dramatic and more +interesting than a flat-race. What can be finer than the sight of a +dozen gentlemen or jockeys, as the case may be, charging a brook and +taking it clear in one unbroken line? And yet, despite the attractions +and excitement of the sport, and all the efforts made from time to time +by the Society of Steeple-chases to popularize it in France, it cannot +as yet be called a success. Complaint is made, as in England, of too +short distances, of the insufficiency of the obstacles, of an +overstraining of the pace. The whole thing is coming to partake more and +more of the nature of a race, an essentially different thing. Field +sports are not races--at least they never ought to be. A steeple-chase +can never answer the true purpose of the flat-race, which is to prove +which is the best horse, to the end that he may ultimately reproduce his +like. But nobody ever heard of "a sire calculated to get +steeple-chasers". The cleverness and the special qualities that make a +good steeple-chaser are not transmitted. The best have been horses of +poor appearance, often small and unsightly, that have been given up by +the trainer as incapable of winning in flat-races. In England the +winners of the "Grand National" have had no pedigree to speak of, and +have failed upon the track. Cassetete had run in nineteen races without +gaining a single one before he began his remarkable career as a hunter; +Alcibiade had been employed at Newmarket as a lad's horse; Salamander +was taken out of a cart to win the great steeple-chases at Liverpool and +Warwick. + +In France there is no Liverpool or Croydon or Sandown for +steeple-chases: there is only an Auteuil. The other meetings in the +neighborhood of Paris--Maisons, Le Vesinet, La Marche--are in the hands +of shameless speculators like Dennetier, Oller and the rest. Poor +horses, bought in the selling races and hardly trained at all to their +new business, compete at these places for slender purses, and often with +the help of dishonest tricks. Accidents, as might be expected, are +frequent, although the obstacles, with the exception of the river at La +Marche, are insignificant. But the pace is pushed to such excess that +the smallest fence becomes dangerous. This last objection, however, may +be made even to the running at Auteuil, where the course is under the +judicious and honorable direction of the Society of Steeple-chases. The +pace is quite too severe for such a long stretch, strewn as it is with +no less than twenty-four obstacles, and some of them pretty serious. The +weather, too, is nearly always bad at Auteuil, even at the summer +meetings, and the ill-luck of the Steeple-chase Society in this respect +has become as proverbial as the good-fortune and favoring skies that +smile upon the Societe d'Encouragement, its neighbor at Longchamps. It +is not to be wondered at, then, that the English do not feel at home +upon this dangerous track. They have gained but twice the great +international steeple-chase founded in 1874--the first time with Miss +Hungerford in the year just mentioned, and again with Congress in 1877. +This prize, the most important of the steeple-chase purses in France, +amounts to twelve hundred sovereigns, added to a sweepstakes of twenty +sovereigns each, with twelve sovereigns forfeit--or only two sovereigns +if declared by the published time--and is open to horses of four years +old and upward. It is run in the early part of June. Last year, whilst +Wild Monarch, belonging to the marquis de St. Sauveur and ridden by +D'Anson, was winning the race, the splendid stands took fire and were +burned, without the loss of a single life, and even without a serious +accident, thanks to the ample width of the staircases and of the exits. +These stands were the newest and the most comfortable in the country. It +is to be hoped that the society will not allow itself to be discouraged +by such a persistent run of ill-luck, but that it will continue to +pursue its work, the object of which it has declared to be "to +encourage, as far as its resources will permit, the breeding and raising +of horses for service and for the army." As the Encouragement Society +rests upon the Jockey Club, so the Society of Steeple-chases finds its +support in the Cercle of the Rue Royale, commonly called the Little Club +or the Moutard. This club was reorganized after the war under the +direction of the prince de Sagan, and has made great sacrifices to bring +Auteuil into fashion. + +The regular racing-season in France begins on the 15th of March, and no +horse that has appeared upon any public track before this date is +permitted to enter. The first event of the series is the spring meeting +at Rheims--the French Lincoln. Of the six flat-races run here, one, +known as the Derby of the East, is for two-year-olds of the previous +year, with a purse of five thousand francs. In the "Champagne" races the +winner gets, besides his prize, a basket of a hundred bottles of the +sparkling wine instead of the empty "cup" that gives its name to other +famous contests. After Rheims the next meeting in course is at +Longchamps, in the beginning of April, opening with the Prix du Cadran, +twenty-five thousand francs, distance forty-two hundred metres, for +four-year-olds. Then comes the essay of horses of the year in the Trial +Sweepstakes and the Prix Daru, corresponding with the Two Thousand +Guineas and the Thousand Guineas at Newmarket. The quotation begins to +take shape as the favorites for the great events of May and June stand +out more clearly. Of all the prizes--not excepting even the Grand Prix +de Paris--the one most desired by French turfmen is the French Derby, +or, to call it by its official name, the Prix du Jockey Club, the +crowning event of the May meeting at Chantilly. The conditions of the +Derby are as follows: For colts and fillies of three years, distance +twenty-four hundred metres, or a mile and a half, fifty thousand francs, +or two thousand pounds sterling, with stakes added of forty pounds for +each horse--twenty-four pounds forfeit, or twenty pounds if declared out +at a fixed date; colts to carry one hundred and twenty-three pounds, and +fillies one hundred and twenty pounds. The purse last year amounted to +L3863 (96,575 francs). Like the English Derby, its French namesake is +regarded as the test and gauge of the quality of the year's production. +In the year of the foundation of this important race (1836), and for the +two succeeding years, it was gained by Lord Henry Seymour's stable, +whose trainer, Th. Carter, and whose stallion, Royal Oak, both brought +from England, were respectively the best trainer and the best stallion +of that time. In 1839, however, the duc d'Orleans's Romulus, foaled at +the Meudon stud, put an end to these victories of the foreigner. In 1840 +the winner was Tontine, belonging to M. Eugene Aumont, but Lord Seymour, +whose horse had come in second, asserted that another horse had been +substituted for Tontine, and that under this name M. Aumont had really +entered the English filly Herodiade, while the race was open only to +colts foaled and raised in France. A lawsuit was the result, and while +the courts refused to admit Lord Seymour's claim, the racing committee +declared the mare disqualified, and M. Aumont sold his stable. In 1841, +Lord Seymour again gained the Derby with Poetess (by Royal Oak), who +afterward became mother of Heroine and of Monarque and grandmother of +Gladiateur. In 1843 there was a dead heat between M. de Pontalbra's +Renonce and Prospero, belonging to the trainer Th. Carter, and, as often +happens, the worse horse--in this case it was Renonce--won the second +heat. In 1848, the name of "Chantilly" being just then too odious, the +Derby was run at Versailles, and was gained by M. Lupin's Gambetti. This +same year is remarkable in the annals of the French turf for the +excellence of its production. From this period until 1853--the year of +Jouvence--M. Lupin enjoyed a series of almost uninterrupted successes. +In 1855 the Derby was won by the illustrious Monarque, and the following +year witnessed the first appearance upon the turf of the now famous red +and blue of Lagrange. It was Beauvais, belonging to Madame Latache de +Fay, who in 1860 carried off the coveted prize, which was won the next +year by Gabrielle d'Estrees, from the stable of the comte de Lagrange. +Then for a period of nine years the count's stable had a run of +ill-luck, its horses always starting as prime favorites and being as +invariably beaten. This was Trocadero's fate in 1867. He was a great +favorite, and had, moreover, on this occasion the assistance of his +stable-companion Mongoubert, a horse of first-rate qualities. This time, +at least, the count's backers were sure of success, but the victory that +seemed within their grasp was wrested from their hands by the unexpected +prowess developed upon the field of battle by a newcomer, M. Delamarre's +Patricien. At a distance of two hundred metres from the goal the three +horses named were alone in the race, and the struggle between them was a +desperate one. It looked almost as if it might turn out a dead heat, +when Patricien, with a tremendous effort, reached the winning-post a +head in advance, after one of the finest and best-contested races ever +seen at Chantilly. In 1869, however, Consul succeeded in turning the +tide of adverse fortune that had set in against the comte de Lagrange, +but it was only for the moment, and it was not until 1878 that he was +again the victor, when he won with Insulaire. He repeated the success +last year with Zut, whom Goater brought in to the winning-post a length +and a half ahead of the field. + +Unfortunately, the winner of the French Derby can hardly ever be in good +condition to contest the great race at Epsom. These two important events +are too near in point of time, and the fatigue of the journey, moreover, +puts the horse that has to make it at a disadvantage. Were it not for +this drawback it is probable that the comte de Lagrange would beat the +English oftener than he does. In May, 1878, his horse Insulaire, having +just come in second in the Two Thousand Guineas at Newmarket, left that +place for home, won the French Derby on Sunday, and returned to England +in time for the Epsom Derby on Wednesday, where he came in second. He +recrossed the Channel, and the following Sunday was second again in the +Grand Prix de Paris, Thurio passing him only by a head. Making the +passage again--and this was his fourth voyage within fifteen days--he +gained the Ascot Derby. It is not unlikely that if this remarkable horse +had remained permanently in the one country or the other he would have +carried off the principal prizes of the turf. + +For the last three or four years the racing men have been in the habit +of meeting, after the Grand Prix de Paris, in the pretty park of La +Marche, between St. Cloud and St. Germain. It is quite a private +gathering, and as elegant as a dashing turnout of some fifteen or twenty +four-in-hands and a pretty luncheon and charming flirtation can make it, +and if dancing has not yet been introduced it soon will be. Prizes in +the shape of groups in bronze and paintings and valuable weapons are +awarded to the gentlemen present who may take part in the hunting +steeple-chase or the race with polo ponies or with hacks. + +In 1878 a new race-course was started at Enghien, to the north of +Paris. The prizes are sufficiently large, the stands comfortable and the +track is good; and these attractions, with the advantage of the +neighborhood of the Chantilly and Morlaye stables, will no doubt make +Enghien a success. Steeple-chases and hurdle-races predominate. + +We can hardly close this review of turf matters in France without at +least a reference to the so-called sporting journals, but what we have +to say of them can be told in two words. They exist only in name. Any +one who buys _Le Sport_, _Le Turf_, _Le Jockey_, _Le Derby_, the _Revue +des Sports,_ etc., on the faith of their titles--nearly all English, be +it observed--will be greatly disappointed if he expects to find in them +anything beyond the mere programmes of the races: they contain no +criticism worthy of the name, no accurate appreciation of the subject +they profess to treat of, and are even devoid of all interesting details +relating to it. Far from following the example of their fellows of +London and New York, these sheets concern themselves neither with +hunting, shooting or fishing, nor with horse-breeding or cattle-raising, +but give us instead the valuable results of their lucubrations upon the +names of the winning horses of the future, and with such sagacity that a +subscriber to one of them has made the calculation that if he had bet +but one louis upon each of the favorites recommended by his paper he +would have lost five hundred louis in the one year of his subscription. + +Let us add, however, that, the press excepted, the English have nothing +more to teach their neighbors in turf matters. The _Pall Mall Gazette_ +has well said that the organization of racing in France has taken a +great deal of what is good from the English turf, and has excluded most +of what is bad. The liberality of the French Jockey Club is declared by +_Vanity Fair_ to be in striking contrast with the starveling policy of +its English namesake. The _Daily Telegraph_ has recently eulogized the +French club for having found out how to rid the turf of the pest of +publicans and speculators and clerks of courses, and of all the riffraff +that encumber and disgrace it in England, and that make parliamentary +intervention necessary. The French turf, in fine, may be said to be +inferior to the English in the number of horses, but its equal in +respect of their quality, while it must be admitted to be superior to it +in the average morality of their owners. + + L. LEJEUNE. + + + + +FROM FAR. + + + Oh, Love, come back, across the weary way + Thou didst go yesterday-- + Dear Love, come back! + + "I am too far upon my way to turn: + Be silent, hearts that yearn + Upon my track." + + Oh, Love! Love! Love! sweet Love! we are undone + If thou indeed be gone + Where lost things are. + + "Beyond the extremest sea's waste light and noise, + As from Ghostland, thy voice + Is borne afar." + + Oh, Love, what was our sin that we should be + Forsaken thus by thee? + So hard a lot! + + "Upon your hearts my hands and lips were set-- + My lips of fire--and yet + Ye knew me not." + + Nay, surely, Love! We knew thee well, sweet Love! + Did we not breathe and move + Within thy light? + + "Ye did reject my thorns who wore my roses: + Now darkness closes + Upon your sight." + + Oh, Love! stern Love! be not implacable: + We loved thee, Love, so well! + Come back to us! + + "To whom, and where, and by what weary way + That I went yesterday, + Shall I come thus?" + + Oh weep, weep, weep! for Love, who tarried long + With many a kiss and song, + Has taken wing. + + No more he lightens in our eyes like fire: + He heeds not our desire, + Or songs we sing. + + PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. + + + + +AMERICANS ABROAD. + + +Five-and-twenty years ago Americans had no cause to be particularly +proud of the manner in which, from a social point of view, their +travelling compatriots were looked upon in Europe. At that epoch we were +still the object of what Mr. Lowell calls a "certain condescension in +foreigners." We were still the recipients at their hands of that certain +half-curious, half-amused and wholly patronizing inspection which, from +the height of their civilization, they might be expected to bestow upon +a novel species of humanity, with manners different from their own, but +recently sprung into existence and notice and disporting itself in their +midst. + +But this sort of thing has had its day. By dint of having been able to +produce, here and there, for the edification of foreigners, a few types +of American manhood and womanhood which came up to the standard of +high-breeding entertained in the Old World, and of having occasionally +dispensed hospitality, both at home and abroad, in a manner which was +unexceptionable, besides having shown other evidences in social +life--not to speak of political life--of being able to hold our own +quite creditably, the "condescension" has gradually diminished in a very +satisfactory manner. It is now no longer kept alive by even the typical +American traveller such as he was when five-and-twenty years ago a +familiar sight at every railway-station, in every steamer and in every +picture-gallery, museum and ruin of every town in Europe. Now-a-days +everybody in America who lays any claim to the right of being called +"somebody," however small a "somebody" it may be, has been to Europe at +least once in his or her life--on a three months' Cook-excursion tour, +if in no other way. And those who have not been have had a father, +mother, brother, sister, or in any case a cousin in some degree, who +has; so that there is always a European trip in the family, so to speak. +The result of all this has naturally been a certain amount of experience +concerning Europe which has tended to wellnigh exterminate the race of +the typically-verdant American traveller. Occasional specimens, with all +their characteristics in full and vigorous development, may still be +met, but these are merely isolated survivors of a once widespread +family. The Americans that one meets to-day in Europe, both those who +travel and those who reside there, are of a different conformation and +belong to a different type. The crudeness which so shocked Europeans in +their predecessors they have, with characteristic adaptability, readily +and gracefully outgrown. But whether they have improved in other +respects, and whether, on other grounds, we have cause to be +particularly proud of our countrymen abroad at the present day, is +another question. + +That Americans are constantly apologizing to foreigners for America, for +its institutions, for its social life, and for themselves as belonging +to it, is a fact which no one ever thinks of disputing. In this faculty +for disparaging our own country we may flatter ourselves that we have no +equals. The Chinese may come near us in their obsequious assurances as +to the utter unworthiness of everything pertaining to them, but with the +difference that they, probably, are inwardly profoundly convinced of the +perfection of all that their idea of courtesy obliges them to abuse, and +mean nothing of what they say; whereas we _do_ mean everything we say. + +The prejudice of the English, and their attempts to transport a +miniature England about with them wherever they go, furnish a frequent +subject of jest to Americans on the Continent. If the total immunity +from any such feeling which characterizes the Americans themselves were +the result of breadth of ideas--if they spoke as they do because they +measured the faults and follies, the merits and advantages, of their +own institutions with as impartial an eye as they would measure those of +other nations, and judged them without either malice or extenuation--we +might then have the privilege of condemning narrow-mindedness +and prejudice. But we have no such breadth of ideas. On the +contrary, we have ourselves--none more so--the strongest sort of +prejudices--prejudices which prevent us as a nation from taking wide, +cosmopolitan views of things. The only difference is that with us the +prejudice, instead of being in favor of everything belonging to our own +country, is, in far too many cases, against it, consequently the most +objectionable, the least excusable, of prejudices. + +It is but rarely that we find a German, a Frenchman, a Spaniard, an +Italian, or a Russian, who even having expatriated himself completely +for one reason or another, and after years of absence, will not have +retained some affection for his native country, some longing for it, +some feeling that it is the best place on earth after all. But among any +number of Americans who have been on European soil for any period of +time, from twenty days to twenty years, those who are burdened with any +such affection, any such longing, any such feeling, might be counted +with ease. Indeed, if through some inconceivable arrangement of human +affairs the Americans abroad were to be prevented from ever returning to +their own country, I imagine the majority would bear the catastrophe +with great equanimity, and, aside from the natural ties of family and +pecuniary interests that might bind them to their home, would think the +permanent life in Europe thus enforced the happiest that Fate could have +bestowed upon them. For my part, I never met but one American who was +anxious to return home--a lady, strange to say--and her chief reason +seemed to be that she missed her pancakes, hot breads, etc. for +breakfast. All the others, men and women, had but one voice to express +how immeasurably more to their taste was everything in Europe--the +climate, the life, the people, the country, the food, the manners, the +institutions, the customs--than anything in America. + +However, all Americans in Europe are not of this class, although it +includes the majority. There is a comparatively small number who are as +much impressed with the perfection of everything American as the most +ardent patriotism could desire. These people go to Europe cased in a +triple armor of self-assertion, prepared to poohpooh everything and +everybody that may come under their notice, and above all to vindicate +under all circumstances their independence as free-born American +citizens by giving the world around them the benefit of their opinions +upon all topics both in and out of season. They stand before a +_chef-d'oeuvre_ of some old master and declare in a loud, aggressive +voice that they see nothing whatever to admire in it, that the +bystanders may know that the judgment of centuries will not weigh with +_them_. They inquire with grim facetiousness, and terrific emphasis on +the pronominal adjectives, "Is _this_ what the people in this part of +the world call a steamboat?" "Do they call that duckpond a lake?" "Is +that stream what they call a river?" And so on, in a perpetual attitude +of protest against everything not so large as their steamboats, their +lakes, their rivers. When this genus of Americans abroad comes together +with the other genus--with the people who think the most wretched daub +that hangs in the most obscure corner of a European gallery, labelled +with prudent indefiniteness "of the school of ----," better far than the +most conscientious work by the most gifted of American artists--and a +discussion arises, as it is sure to do, on the relative merits of Europe +and America, then indeed does Greek meet Greek, and, both starting from +equally false premises and with equally false views, the cross-purposes, +the rabid comparing of things between which no comparison is possible, +the amount of absurd nonsense spoken on either side, and the profound +disdain of one for the other, furnish a great deal of amusement to +Europeans, but make an American who has any self-respect suffer no small +amount of mortification. + +There is but one ground upon which these two classes of Americans meet +in common, and that is in their respect for titles, coronets and +coats-of-arms. It is useless to deny the immense impressiveness which +this sort of thing has for the average American. Of course, if he be of +the aggressive sort he will scout the very idea of any such imputation, +one of the favorite jokes of his tasteful stock in trade being precisely +to express sovereign contempt for anything and everything smacking of +nobility, and to weigh its advantages against the chink of his own +dollars and find it wanting. But this does not in the least alter the +matter. The people who inveigh the most fiercely against the pretensions +of blue blood are generally, the world over, the ones who are devoured +by the most ardent retrospective ambitions for grandfathers and +grandmothers; and the Americans who cry out loudest against the hollow +vanity of the European aristocracy are generally those who have +genealogical trees and coats-of-arms of authenticity more or less +questionable hanging in their back parlor, and think themselves a step +removed from those among their neighbors who boast of no such property. + +It may not be pleasant for us to acknowledge to ourselves that our +countrymen abroad are cankered with toadyism and are frightful snobs; +but so it is, nevertheless. The fact is very visible, veil it as we may. +The American who has not had it forced upon his attention in innumerable +ways--by the undisguised _empressement_ of those among his compatriots +who frankly spend their whole time running after persons with titles, +entertaining them and fawning upon them in every possible manner, no +more than by the intensely American Americans who profess supreme +disregard for all precedence and distinctions established by society, +and yet never fail to let you know, quite accidentally, that Count This, +Baron That and Marquis the Other are their very particular friends--has +had an exceptional experience indeed. + +This manner of disposing of all Americans abroad by putting them into +one of these two categories may seem somewhat sweeping, and it will be +objected that there are hundreds of our countrymen in Europe who could +never come under the head of either. Granted. These hundreds undoubtedly +exist: they are made up of people of superior mind and intelligence, of +people of superior culture, of people who occupy that exceptional social +position which, either through associations of hereditary ease, +refinement, wealth and elegance, or by contact with "the best" of +everything from childhood up, confers on those who belong to it very +much the same outward gloss the world over. But it is never among such +exceptions that the distinctive characteristics of a nation are to be +sought. These are to be looked for in the great mass of the people. Now, +the great mass of Americans who go abroad are people of average minds, +average education, average positions; and that, thus taken as a mass, +they are lamentably lacking both in good taste and dignity, every one +must admit who is in any degree familiar with the American colonies in +the cities of Europe where our countrymen congregate. + +I should perhaps say, to express myself more accurately, "where our +countrywomen congregate;" for, after all, the true representatives of +America in Europe are the American women. Nine-tenths of all the +American colonies consist of mothers who, having left their liege lords +to their stocks and merchandise, have come abroad "for the education of +their children"--an exceedingly elastic as well as convenient formula, +which somehow always makes one think of charity that "covereth a +multitude of sins." Occasionally--once in three or four years +perhaps--the husband leaves his stocks or merchandise for a brief space +of time, crosses the Atlantic and remains with his family a month or +two. Occasionally also he fails to appear altogether. I am not very sure +but that this last course is the one that foreigners expect him to +pursue, and that when he deviates from it it is not rather a surprise to +them. Europeans, I fancy, are somewhat apt to look upon the American +husband as a myth. At all events, it seems to take the experience of +Thomas in many instances to convince them of his material existence. +The American who is content to have his wife and children leave him for +an indefinite period ranging anywhere from one year to ten years, and +during that time enjoy the advantages of life and travel in Europe, +while he himself remains at home absorbed in his business, is a species +of the genus _Homo_ that Europeans are at a loss to comprehend. Being so +rarely seen in the flesh, he necessarily occupies but a secondary +position in their estimation: indeed, I think all American men, those of +the class named no more than those that are more frequently seen abroad, +such as doctors, clergymen, consuls, etc., may be said--some exception +being made for the "leisure class" possessed of four-in-hands and so on, +and an unlimited supply of the world's goods--to be considered by +Europeans of no great significance, socially speaking. It is madame and +mesdemoiselles who are all-important. Monsieur is thought a worthy +person, with some excellent qualities, such as freedom from +uncomfortable jealousies and suspicions, and both capacity and +willingness for furnishing remittances, but a person rather destitute of +polish--invaluable from a domestic point of view, from any other +somewhat uninteresting. But madame and mesdemoiselles have every +possible tribute paid to their charms: their beauty, their wit, their +dash and sparkle, their independence, receive as large a share of +admiration as the most insatiable among them could desire. + +It must be owned that the American spirit, tempered by European +education or influences, makes a very delightful compound. And it is +astonishing to mark how soon the toning process does its work--how soon +the most objectionable American girl of the sort known as "fast," or +even "loud," softens into a very charming creature who makes the +admiration bestowed upon her by European men quite comprehensible. + +That this admiration is returned is perhaps not less comprehensible. +American women, as a mass, are better educated than American men, and +are particularly their superiors so far as outward grace and polish and +the general amenities of life are concerned. These qualities, in which +their countrymen are deficient, and the blander manners which accompany +them, they are apt to find well developed in European men, whatever +other virtues or faults may be theirs; and when to this fact is added +the spice of novelty, the strong liking that American girls manifest for +foreigners, and which has been the cause of putting so many American +youths in anything but a benedictory frame of mind, is easily accounted +for, and the marriages which so frequently take place between our girls +and European men may be explained, even on other grounds than the common +exchange of money on one side and title on the other. + +Be the motive of these marriages either mutual interest or mutual +inclination, in neither case does the generally-accepted theory that +they are never happy bear the test of application. So far as my +knowledge goes, the common experience is quite the reverse. The number +of matches between American girls and Europeans that turn out badly is +small compared to the number of those that are perfectly satisfactory. +It is astonishing to see how many of our girls, who have been brought up +in the belief of the American woman's prerogative of absolute supremacy +in the domestic circle, when they are thus married change and seem quite +content to relinquish not a few of their ideas of perfectly untrammelled +independence, and to take that more subordinate position in matrimony +which European life and customs allot to women. It is still more +astonishing to see how contentedly and cheerfully they do so when +marrying men, as they often do, whose equals in every point, were they +their own countrymen, they would consider decidedly bad _partis_--men +with no advantages of any description, without either position, career +or any visible means of livelihood, often passably destitute of +education and character as well. How they contrive to be satisfied with +their bargain in this case is a puzzle, but satisfied they are. + +Marriages of this sort, where the man has absolutely nothing to offer +beyond the charms of his more or less blandly persuasive person, excite +no surprise abroad. That a penniless male fortune-hunter should marry a +girl with wealth is considered in Europe at the present day not only +just, proper and quite as it should be, but rather _comme il faut_ than +otherwise. Let the case be reversed, and a man of fortune permit himself +the caprice of marrying a portionless girl, and society cries out in +horror against the mesalliance. + +American women in Europe have two chief aims and occupations. The first +is to obtain an _entree_ into the society of the country in which they +are residing, and to identify themselves with that society: the second +is to revile one another. + +So far as the first aim is concerned, it is certainly most laudable, +taken in one sense: the persons who can live in the midst of a people +without endeavoring to gain an insight into its character and its +customs must be possessed of an exceptionally oyster-like organization +indeed. But the majority of American women seek foreign society on other +grounds than this--chiefly from that tendency to ape everything European +and to decry everything American to which I have already alluded as +being characteristic of us as a nation. England and the English are the +principal models chosen for imitation. It is marvellous to notice the +fondness of American women abroad for the English accent and manner of +speech and way of thinking; how enthusiastically they attend all the +meets in Rome; how plaintively they tell one if one happens to have +arrived quite recently from home, "Really, there is no riding across +country in _your_ America, you know." In the cities of the Continent +that have large English and American colonies they attend the English +church in preference to their own. I believe it is considered more +exclusive to do so, and better form. In this mania for all things +English we are not alone. John Bull happens to be the fashion of the day +quite as much on the continent of Europe as in America, and has quite as +many devoted worshippers there as among us. + +Naturally, one of the chief reasons why American women have so great a +liking for European society is to be found in the fact of the far more +important position that married ladies occupy in that society than they +do with us. For a woman who feels that she has still attractions which +should not be buried in obscurity, but who has found that since her +marriage she has, to all intents and purposes, been "laid upon the +shelf," it is a very delightful experience to see herself once more the +object of solicitous attention, considered as one of the brilliant +central ornaments of a ballroom, not as one of its indispensable +wall-decorations. The experience seems to be so particularly pleasant to +the majority of American women, indeed, that they show the greatest +disinclination to sharing it one with the other--a disinclination made +manifest by that habit of reviling each other which I mentioned as the +second great aim and occupation of our countrywomen abroad. That there +should be very little kindness and fellow-feeling, and a great deal of +envy, hatred, malice and all uncharitableness among their members, is +characteristic of all foreign colonies in every country; but none +certainly can, in this respect, surpass the American colonies in Europe, +at least in so far as their feminine representatives are concerned. The +extent to which these ladies carry their backbiting and slandering, and +the abnormal growth which their jealousy of one another attains, fill +the masculine mind with amazement. + +A lady of a certain age who had lived in Europe twenty years, and who, +in addition to being a person of great clearness and robustness of +judgment, held a position, as a widow with a comfortable competency, +which made her verdict unassailable by any suspicion of its being an +interested one, spoke to me once on this subject. "In all my experience +of American life in Europe," she said, "I may safely state that I have +never met more than half a dozen American women who had anything but +ill-natured remarks to make of one another. No American woman need hope, +live as she may, do as she may, say what she may, to escape criticism +at the hands of her countrywomen. The mildest manner in which they will +treat her in conversation will be to say that she is 'nobody,' 'never +goes anywhere,' etc., and thus dismiss her. In every other case it is, +'Mrs. A----? Oh yes, such a charming person! Perhaps just a little bit +inclined to put on airs, but then--Oh, a very nice little woman. I don't +suppose she has ever really been accustomed to much, you know. They say +her mother was a dressmaker, but of course one never knows how true +these things may be. She does make frantic efforts to get into society +here: it is quite amusing. I think the Von Z----s have rather taken her +up. She has plenty of money to spend, oh yes. I can't see how her +husband can afford to let her live in the style she does abroad, but +then that is _his_ affair. She entertains all these people, and of +course they go to her house because she can give them some +amusement.'--'Mrs. B----? Do I know anything about her? Well, I think I +do. Nice? Oh, I do not know that there is anything to be said against +her. To be sure, in Paris people _did_ say some rather ugly things. +There was a Count L----. And I heard from a very reliable source that +she was not on exactly good terms with her husband. So, having +daughters, you know, I was obliged to be prudent and rather to shun her +than otherwise. Without wishing to be ill-natured I feel inclined to +advise you to do the same: I think you will find it quite as well to do +so.'--'Mrs. C----? Oh, my dear, such a coarse, common, vulgar creature! +She was never received in any sort of good society in New York. Her +husband made money one fine day, and she has come abroad and is trying +to impose upon people here. She is perfectly ignorant--no education +whatever. And the daughters are horribly _mauvais genre_.'--'Mrs. D----? +I should call her an undesirable acquaintance. Not but what she is a +very nice sort of person--in her way--but she does make up so +frightfully, and she looks so fast. Always has a crowd of officers +dangling about her. Her husband is a stick. They _do_ say that when his +relatives came abroad last winter they would not call upon him. They +were completely incensed at the way in which he permits his wife to +carry on.'--'Mrs. E----? Pray, who is Mrs. E----? and where does she get +the money to live as she does? I knew her a few years ago, when she had +a thousand a year to live on, she and both her children. And now, the +toilettes she makes! And, some people say, the debts! And, really, I +don't see how it can be otherwise, knowing, as I do, that all the +members of her family are as poor as church mice. Her husband committed +suicide, you know.--No! did you never hear that? Oh yes: he was mixed up +in some rather shady transactions in business, and put an end to himself +in that way.'--'Mrs. F----? Oh yes, I remember. An old thing, with a +grown-up son, who dresses as if she were fifteen. Dreadfully affected, +and _so_ silly! Moreover, Mrs. I---- lived in the same house with her in +Dresden--had the apartment above hers--and she told me the servants said +that Mrs. F---- was always in some difficulty with tradespeople.'--'Miss +G----? Is it possible you have never heard about her? Why, she ran away +with a footman, or something of the kind. Was brought back before she +had reached the station, I believe; but you can imagine the scandal! All +the girls in that family are rather queer, which, considering the stock +they come from, is really not very strange,' etc. etc. etc." + +In view of these facts, and of many more of the same nature, when one +sees the people who come back from Europe after an absence of a year or +two unable to speak their own language fluently, because they have heard +and spoken nothing but German or French or Italian during that time, and +who cannot stand the climate because they are not used to it; when one +sees the young ladies who return home unable to take any interest in +American life, and who shut themselves away from its society, which to +them is most unpolished and vapid, because they have had a European +education; when one sees the hundred follies which a glimpse of Europe +will put into the heads of people whom before one had had every reason +to think sensible enough,--one feels inclined to ask one's self the +question, Are we to conclude that European life is demoralizing to +Americans? Are we to conclude that the innumerable advantages that such +a life confers--the wider view and broader knowledge of things, the +softening influences gained by contact with a riper civilization, the +aesthetic tastes developed by acquaintance with older and more perfect +art--are to count as nothing, are to be outweighed by the disadvantages +of the same life? + +Certainly, out of a hundred Americans who go abroad ninety-nine return +with what they have lost in narrowness of experience completely offset +by what they have gained in pretentious affectation. So far from being +improved in any way are they that their well-wishers are inclined to +think it would have been far better had they never gone at all. + +I do not wish to draw the ultimate conclusion from all this that it +would be better for Americans were their periodical exodus to Europe to +cease. Far from it. That cultivated Americans, and Americans +particularly of a more reflective than active mind, should find the +relative ease, culture and simplicity of European life more congenial to +them than the restless, high-pressure life of America, is quite natural. +And if there are no interests or ties to make their presence in their +own country imperatively necessary, it is certainly a matter of option +with them where they take up their abode. There is no law, human or +divine, to bind a person to live in one certain spot when the +surroundings are uncongenial to him, and when no private duty fetters +him to it, for the simple reason that he has chanced to be born there. +Every one is certainly at liberty to seek the centre that best suits him +and answers to his needs. Again, there are numbers of persons who with +moderate means can live according to their taste in Europe when it would +be impossible for them to do so in America on the same amount. There are +a thousand small gratifications that people can afford themselves on a +small income abroad, a thousand small pleasures in life from which in +our country they would be hopelessly debarred; and that they should be +debarred from them when escape is possible, and not only possible but +most simple and easy, would indeed be hard. + +But why cannot Americans indulge this preference for life in Europe, why +can they not avail themselves of the choice if it is open to them, and +yet remember that they _are_ Americans, and that no circumstance can +absolve them from a sacred obligation to show respect for their native +country, and to stand as its citizens on their own dignity? Men and +women may be conscious of faults and weaknesses in their parents, but +they are not expected to expose these weaknesses on that account: +instinctive delicacy in any one but a churl would keep him from +acknowledging any such failings to his own heart. And a similar feeling +should teach us, even if our sympathies were not with our own country, +to treat it in word and deed with respect. Until we do learn to show +this respect before Europeans we must still resign ourselves to the +imputation, if they wish to make it, of crudeness, of being still sadly +in want of refining. + + ALAIN GORE. + + + + +GLIMPSES OF PORTUGAL AND THE PORTUGUESE. + + +[Illustration: Sketch Map of NORTH SPAIN and PORTUGAL.] + +The mere name of Spain calls up at once a string of flashing, barbaric +pictures--Moorish magnificence and Christian chivalry, bull-fights, +boleros, serenades, tattered pride and cruel pleasure. All these things +go to form that piquant whole, half Eastern, half European, which is the +Spain of our imaginations. Our associations with the western part of the +Peninsula are, on the other hand, vague and incomplete. Vasco da Gama, +the earthquake of Lisbon, port wine and Portuguese plums are the +Lusitanian products most readily called to mind. After them would come +perhaps the names of Magellan, of Prince Henry the Navigator and of the +ill-fated Don Sebastian. One poet of the country, Camoens, is as often +referred to as Tasso or Ariosto. Those whose memories go back to the +European events of 1830 and thereabouts may recall the Portuguese civil +wars, the woes of Dona Maria and the dark infamy of Don Miguel. And more +recently have we not heard of the Portuguese _Guide to English +Conversation_ and relished its delicious discoveries in our language? +All these items do not, however, present a very vivid or finished +picture of the country: like the words in a dictionary, they are a +trifle disconnected. + +Portugal was the first station of Childe Harold's pilgrimage, but it +holds no place in the ordinary European tour of to-day. It does not +connect with any of the main lines of travel in such a manner as to +beguile the tourist insensibly over its border: a deliberate start must +be made by steamer from England in order to reach Lisbon from the north. +Another and probably stronger reason for our neglect of its scenery is +that it is not talked of. We go to Europe to see places and follow up +associations with which fame has already made us familiar, and, though +Portugal has had a great past of which the records are still extant, it +has not been brought to our notice by art. + +The two nations living side by side on the Peninsula, though originally +of the same stock and subjected to the same influences, present more +points of difference than of likeness. Their early history is the same. +Hispania and Lusitania both fell successively under the dominion of the +Romans and of the Moors, and were modified to a considerable extent by +the civilization of each. Moorish influence was predominant in +Spain--Portugal retained more deeply the Roman stamp. This is easily +seen in the literature of the two countries. Spanish ballads and plays +show the Eastern delight in hyperbole, the Eastern fertility of +invention: Portuguese literature is completely classic in spirit, +avoiding all exaggeration, all offences against taste, and confining +itself to classic forms, such as the pastoral, the epic and the sonnet. +Many Moorish customs survive in Portugal to this day, but they have not +become so closely assimilated there as in Spain to the character of the +people. The cruelty which has always marked the Spanish race is no part +of the Portuguese national character, which is conspicuous rather for +the "gentler-sexed humanity." True, the bull-fight, that barbarous +legacy of the Moors, still lingers among the Portuguese, but the sport +is pursued with no such wanton intoxication of cruelty as in the country +with which its name is now associated. On the other hand, the Roman +tradition has been preserved in Portugal more perfectly than in Italy +itself: in the "fairest of Roman colonies," as it was once called, there +will be found manners and customs which bring up more vividly the life +portrayed by the classic poets than any existing among the peasants of +modern Italy. + +[Illustration: ANCIENT HOUSE IN OPORTO.] + +Both Rome and Arabia stood sponsors for the land they thus endowed. The +name _Portugal_ is compounded of the Latin _portus_, a "port," and the +Arabic _calaeh_, a "castle" or "fortress." The first of these names was +originally given to the town which still retains it--Oporto--one of the +oldest of Portugal, and at one time its capital. + +The history of Portugal, when it separates from that of Spain, is the +history of a single stupendous achievement. A small nation raising +itself in a short time to the power of a great empire, reaching a height +which to gain was incredible, to keep impossible, and at the first +relaxation of effort suddenly falling with a disastrous crash,--that is +the drama of Portugal's greatness. There was no gradual rise or decline: +it mounted and fell. There is a tradition that the first king of +Portugal, Affonso Henriquez, was crowned on the battlefield with a burst +of enthusiasm on the part of the soldiers whom he was leading against +the Saracens, and that on the same day he opened his reign by the +glorious victory of Ourique. Less than half a century previously the +country had been given as a fief to a young knight, Count Henry of +Burgundy, on his marriage with a daughter of the king of Castile. The +Moors were overrunning it on the one hand, Castile was eying it +jealously on the other, yet Affonso Henriquez made it an independent and +permanent kingdom. This prince slaughtered Saracens and carried off +honors on the field as fast as the Cid, but his deeds were not embalmed +in an epic destined to become a storehouse of poetry for all the world. +His chronicler did not come till about four centuries later, and then +nearer and vaster achievements than those of Affonso Henriquez lay +ready to his pen. At the birth of Camoens, in 1525, Portugal had gained +her greatest conquests, and, if the shadows were already falling across +her power, she had still great men who were making heroic efforts to +retain it. Vasco da Gama had died within the year. Albuquerque, the hero +of the _Lusiado_, the noblest and most far-sighted mind in an age of +great men, had been dead ten years. Camoens, like the Greek dramatists, +was soldier as well as poet: he was not alone the singer of past +adventures--he was the reporter of what took place under his own eyes. +His epic was already finished before the defeat of Don Sebastian in the +battle of Alcazar put an end to the glory it celebrated, and in dying +shortly after the poet is said to have breathed a prayer of thanksgiving +at being spared the pain of surviving his country. + +[Illustration: CHAPEL NEAR GUIMARAENS.] + +The period of Portuguese supremacy lasted then, altogether, less than a +century. There is an irresistible temptation to ponder over what results +were lost by its sudden downfall, and to seek therein some explanation +of the strange fact that Portugal alone among the southern nations of +Europe has never had a national art. There was a moment when the +foundations for it seemed to be laid: it was the period at which early +Spanish art was putting forth its first efforts, while that of Italy was +in its prime. Under Emanuel the Fortunate and his successor Portugal was +rich and powerful. Its intellect and ambition had been stimulated by the +achievements of its great navigators. There was an awakening of interest +in art and letters. A school of poets had arisen of which Camoens was to +be the crown. The court, mindful of the duties of patronage, was +building new churches and convents and decorating the old ones with +religious pictures, and in Portugal religious feeling has always been +peculiarly strong. Many of these pictures are still preserved. They are +not, however, of a high order of merit, and it is not even certain that +they are the work of native artists, some authorities inclining to the +belief that they were done by inferior Flemish painters visiting the +country, and are therefore the lees of the Flemish school, not the +flower of a national one. Universal belief among the Portuguese +attributes them to Gran Vasco, a master whose very existence is +mythical, and who if he had lived several lives could not have painted +all the works of various styles which are ascribed to him. That the +artistic sense was not lacking in the Portuguese people is abundantly +shown in their architecture, in their repousse-work of the fifteenth +century and the carvings in wood and stone. The church and convent at +Belem, the work of this period, are ornamented by Gothic stone-work of +exquisite richness and fertility of invention. The church is unfinished, +like the epoch it commemorates. To an age of activity and conquest +succeeded one of gloom and depression. The last of the kings whom the +nation had leaned on, while it supported them so loyally, had fallen at +Alcazar, and in the struggle which ensued for the succession Portugal +fell an easy prey to the strongest claimant. Philip II. strengthened his +claim to the vacant throne by sending an army of twenty thousand men +into the country under the command of the duke of Alva, and the other +heirs were too weak or too divided to oppose him. The discoveries and +conquests made by Portugal had laid the foundations of riches and power +for other nations: her own immediate benefit from them was over. The +period of prosperous repose which may be expected to follow one of great +national activity was denied to her. When the house of Braganza +recovered its rights, the impulse to creative art was extinct. + +[Illustration: CLOISTERS OF BELEM CONVENT.] + +Though it was as a maritime power that Portugal rose to its greatest +height, it has been from time immemorial an agricultural nation, and the +mass of its people are engaged in tilling the soil. They are a cheerful, +industrious race, who, far from meriting Lord Byron's contemptuous +epithet of "Lusitanian boors," are gifted with a natural courtesy and +refinement of manner. A New-England farmer would be tempted to follow +the poet's example and regard them with contempt: weighed in his +balance, they would certainly be found wanting. There is no +public-school system in operation, and the Portuguese farmer is not +likely to be able to read or sign his name. But the want of literature +is not felt in a Southern country, where social intercourse is far more +cultivated than in our own rural districts. It is not by reading the +newspapers, but by talking matters over with his neighbor, that the +Portuguese farmer obtains his sound and intelligent views on the +politics of his country. He is a great talker, taking a keen interest in +all that goes on, enjoying a joke thoroughly and addressing his comrade +with all the ceremonies and distinctions of a language which contains +half a dozen different forms of address. The illiterate peasant is no +whit behind the man of culture in the purity of his Portuguese. In no +country in Europe is the language kept freer from dialect, and this +notwithstanding the fact that it is one of involved grammatical forms. +In France the use of the imperfect subjunctive is given up by the lower +classes and by foreigners, but in Portugal the peasant has still deeper +subtleties of speech at the end of his tongue. Add to this that he has a +vocabulary of abuse before which the Spaniard or the California +mule-driver would be silenced, and you have the extent of his linguistic +accomplishments. This profane eloquence was an art imparted no doubt by +the Moors. The refinements of syntax come from the Latin, to which +Portuguese bears more affinity in form than any other modern language. + +From the Romans the Lusitanian received his first lessons in +agriculture--lessons which have never been entirely superseded. His +plough was given him by the Romans, and he has not yet seen fit to alter +the pattern. The ox-cart used in town and country for all purposes of +draught is another relic preserved intact. Its wheels of solid wood are +fastened to the axle, which revolves with them, this revolution being +accompanied by a chorus of inharmonious shrieks and creaks and wails +which to the foreign and prejudiced nerve is simply agonizing. Its +master hears it with a different ear: he finds it rather cheerful than +otherwise, good to enliven the oxen, to dispel the silence of lonely +places and to frighten away wolves and bogies, of which enemies he has a +childish awe. Instead, therefore, of pouring oil upon this discord, he +applies lemon-juice to aggravate the sound! The cart pleases the eye of +the stranger more than his ear. When in the vintage season the upright +poles forming its sides are bound together by a wickerwork of vine +branches with their large leaves, and the inside is heaped with purple +grapes, it is a goodly sight, and one which Alma-Tadema might paint as a +Roman vintage, for it is doubtless a counterfeit presentment of the +grape-laden wains which moved in the season of vintage over the +Campagna. The results in both cases were the same, for the _vinho +verde_, a harsh but refreshing wine, made and drunk by the +country-people, is made in the same way and is probably identical with +that wherewith the Latin farmer slaked his thirst. The recipe may have +descended through Lusus, the companion of Bacchus, whom tradition names +as the father of the Lusitanian. Be that as it may, the Portuguese is +still favored of the wine-god. Wine flows for him even more freely than +water, which gift of Nature has to be dug for and sought far and wide. +He drinks the ruby liquid at home and carries it afield: he even shares +it with his horse, who sinks his nose, nothing loth, in its inviting +depths, and neither man nor beast shows any ill effects from this +indulgence. + +[Illustration: A MADEIRA FISHERMAN.] + +It is in the north-western corner of the country, in the Minho +province, that the highest rural prosperity is to be met with. This +little province, scarcely as large as the State of Delaware, but with +more than four times its population, has successfully solved the problem +of affording labor and sustenance in nearly equal shares to a large +number of inhabitants. Bonanza-farming is unheard of there. The high +perfection of its culture, which gives the whole province the trim, +thriving air of a well-kept garden, comes from individual labor minutely +bestowed on small surfaces. No mowing-, threshing- or other machines are +used. Instead of labor-saving, there is labor cheerfully expended--in +the place of the patent mower, a patient toiler (often of the fair sex), +armed with a short, curved reaping-hook. The very water, which flows +plentifully in fountains and channels, comes not direct from heaven +without the aid of man. It is coaxed down from the hills in tedious +miles of aqueduct or forced up from a great depth by a rustic +water-wheel worked by oxen, and is then distributed over the land. +Except for its aridity, the climate is kind to the small farmer: there +is no long inactivity forced upon him by a cold winter. A constant +succession of crops may be raised, and all through the year he works +cheerfully and industriously, finding his ten acres enough and his +curious broad hoe dexterously wielded the equivalent of shovel and +pickaxe. If ignorant of our inventions, he is intimately acquainted with +some American products. If a Yankee were to walk into a Portuguese +farm-house and surprise the family at dinner, he would be sure to see on +the table two articles which, however oddly served, would be in their +essentials familiar to him--Indian meal and salt codfish. Indian corn +has long been cultivated as the principal grain: it is mixed with rye to +make the bread in every-day use. The Newfoundland cod, under the name of +_bacalhau_, has crept far into the affections of the nation, its lack of +succulence being atoned for by a rich infusion of olive oil, so that the +native beef, cheap and good as it is, has no chance in comparison. +Altogether, the Portuguese peasant with his wine, his oil and his +bacalhau fares better than most of his class. At Christmas-tide he +stakes his digestion on _rebanadas_, a Moorish invention--nothing less +than ambrosial flapjacks made by soaking huge slices of wheaten bread in +new milk, frying them in olive oil and then spreading them lavishly with +honey. + +The Portuguese can be industrious, but all work and no play is a scheme +of life which would ill accord with his social, pleasure-loving +temperament. With a wisdom rare in his day and generation, and an energy +unparalleled among Southern races, he manages to combine the two. After +rising at dawn and working from twelve to fifteen hours, he does not sit +down and fall asleep, but slings a guitar over his shoulder and is off +to the nearest threshing-floor to dance a _bolero_. His dancing is not +the more graceful for coming after hours of field-labor, but it lacks +neither activity nor picturesqueness: above all, it is the outcome of +light-heartedness and enjoyment in capering. The night air, soft yet +cool, is refreshing after the intense heat of the day: the too sudden +lowering of temperature at sundown which makes the evenings unhealthy in +many Southern countries is not experienced in Portugal. Every peasant +has his guitar, for a love of music is widely diffused, and some of them +not only sing but improvise. In the province of the Minho it is not +uncommon at these gatherings for a match of improvisation to be held +between two rustic bards. One takes his guitar, and in a slow, drawling +recitative sings a simple quatrain, which the other at once caps with a +second in rhyme and rhythm matching the first. Verse follows verse in +steady succession, and the singer who hesitates is lost: his rival +rushes in with a tide of rhyme which carries all before it. In such +primitive pleasures the shepherds of the Virgilian eclogue indulged. + +As the life of the peasant, so is that of his wife or sweetheart. She +shares in the work, guiding the oxen, cutting grass, even working on the +road with hoe and basket. "Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound." +Like Wordsworth's reaper, she sings as she works, and the day's labor +over is ready to join in the bolero. On fete-days she is arrayed in all +the magnificence of her peasant ornaments, worth, if her family is +well-to-do, a hundred dollars or more--gold pendants in her ears, large +gold chains of some antique Moorish design falling in a triple row over +her gay bodice. The men wear long hooded cloaks of brown homespun, which +they sometimes retain for convenience after the rest of the +peasant-dress has been thrown aside for the regulation coat and +trousers. There is no tendency to eccentricity in the national costume +of Portugal, but the Portuguese colony of Madeira have invented a +singular head-gear in a tiny skull-cap surmounted by a steeple of +tightly-wound cloth, which serves as a handle to lift it by. Like the +German student's cap, it requires practice to make it adhere at the +required angle. This is a bit of coxcombry which has no match in the +simple, unaffected vanity of the Portuguese. + +[Illustration: COUNTRY-HOUSE IN PORTUGAL.] + +The country is left during the greater part of the year to the exclusive +occupancy of the peasantry, the town atmosphere being more congenial in +the long run to the social gentry of Portugal. The wealthy class in +Lisbon have their villas at Cintra, in which paradise of Nature and art, +with its wonderful ensemble of precipices and palaces, forest and garden +scenes, they can enjoy mountains without forsaking society. Many Oporto +families own country-houses in the Minho, and rusticate there very +pleasantly for a month or two in early fall. The gentlemen have large +shooting-parties, conducted on widely-different principles from those so +unswervingly adhered to by Trollope's indefatigable sporting character, +Mr. Reginald Dobbs. In a Portuguese shooting the number of men and dogs +is often totally disproportionate to that of the game, and a single +partridge may find itself the centre of an alarming volley from a dozen +or more guns. The enjoyment is not measured, however, by the success. +There is a great deal of talking and laughing, and no discontent with +the day's sport is exhibited even if there be little to show for the +skill and patience expended. There is further occupation in +superintending vintage and harvest, while the orange-groves and +luxuriant gardens offer plenty of resources for exercise or idleness. +Plant-life in Portugal is singularly varied even for so warm a country. +To the native orange, olive and other trees of Southern Europe have been +added many exotics. The large magnolia of our Southern States, the +Japanese camellia and the Australian gum tree have made themselves at +home there, and grow as if their roots were in their native soil. +Geraniums and heliotrope, which we confine easily in flower-pots, assume +a different aspect in the public gardens of Lisbon, where the former is +seen in flaming trees and hedges twenty or thirty feet high, and the +latter distributes its fragrance while covering the high walls with its +spreading arms. + +The grapes from which port-wine is made are all grown within the narrow +compass of a mountain-valley about twenty-seven miles long by five or +six wide, where the conditions of soil and climate most favorable to +wine-culture--including a large degree of both heat and cold--are found +in perfection. Owing to its elevation the frosts in this district are +tolerably severe, while in summer the sun looks steadily down with his +hot glance into the valley till its vine-clad sides are permeated by +heat. The grapes ripened there are of peculiar richness and strength. +The trade is all in the hands of a certain number of English merchants +at Oporto, who buy the grapes as they hang of the native farmers and +have the wine made under their own supervision. The wine-making is +conducted in much the same manner as in other countries, a certain +quantity of spirits being added to arrest decay and ensure its +preservation. All wine has passed through the first stage of decay, +fermentation, and is liable at any time to continue the course. It may +be made with little or no alcohol if it is to be drunk within the year: +to ensure a longer lease of life some antiseptic is necessary. Port is, +from its richness, peculiarly liable to decay, and will stand +fortification better than sherry, which being a light wine is less in +need of it and more apt to be over-fortified. The area in which port is +produced being so small, there can be no material difference in the +produce of different vineyards, but some slight superiorities of soil or +aspect have given the Vesuvio, the Raida and a few other wines a special +reputation. + +The history of port is a somewhat curious one. It is associated closely +with the old English gentleman of a bygone generation, a staunch and +bigoted being who despised French wines as he abhorred the French +nation, and agreed with Doctor Johnson that claret was for boys, port +for men. The vintage of 1820 was a remarkable one in Portugal. The port +made in that season was of a peculiar strength and sweetness, in color +nearly black. The old English gentleman would acknowledge no other as +genuine, and, as Nature positively refused to repeat the experiment, the +practice of dyeing port with dried elderberries and increasing the +infusion of brandy to impart strength and flavor was resorted to. It was +successful for some time, but after a while the secret oozed out, and +the public began to receive the garnet-hued liquid again into favor, and +to find, with Douglas Jerrold, that it preferred the old port to the +_elder_. The elderberry is not sufficiently common in Portugal to make +the continuation of this process popular with wine-makers. At present +port is tolerably free from adulteration, though its casks and those of +an inferior red wine of Spain after voyaging to England sometimes find +their contents a little mixed. + +Oporto is the seat of the wine-trade, and its huge warehouses are filled +with stores of port ripening to a good old age, when the garnet will be +exchanged for a dark umber tint. A handsome, thriving city is Oporto, +mounting in terraces up the slope of a steep hill. A fine quay runs the +length of the town along the Douro, and here the active life of Oporto +is mainly concentrated. Any stranger watching this stir of movement and +color will be struck by the prominent position which women fill in the +busy crowd. The men do not absorb all branches of labor. Besides the +water-carriers, market-women and fruit-vendors there may be seen +straight, stalwart lasses acting as portresses to convey loads to and +from the boats which are fastened to the river-wall. Many of the +servants and other laborers through Portugal come from Galicia, the +inhabitants of that Spanish province enjoying a reputation for honesty +and faithful service combined with stupidity. + +[Illustration: QUAY AT OPORTO--THE QUEEN'S STAIRS.] + +A sad contrast to the fertility of the Minho is presented by the +country opposite Lisbon and the adjoining province of Alemtejo. This +Portuguese _campagna_ was in Roman days a fertile plain covered with +golden wheat-fields. Now it is a barren, melancholy waste, producing +only ruins. It is in and about this region that the most important Roman +remains in the country are to be found. The soil in the neighborhood of +Evora is rich in coins and other relics, and Evora has, besides its +great aqueduct, the massive pillars of a temple to Diana, which, sad to +say, was once put to ignoble use as a slaughter-house. The ruins of +Troia have escaped desecration, if they have not obtained the care and +study which they merit. Lying on a low tongue of land which projects +into the bay of Setubal, the city of Troia is buried, not in Pompeian +lava, but in deep mounds of sand, accumulated there by the winds and +waves. A tremendous storm in 1814 washed away a part of this sand and +revealed something of its treasure, but it was not till 1850 that the +hint was followed up by antiquaries and a regular digging made. A large +Roman house was uncovered, together with a vast debris of marble +columns, mosaic pavements, baths, urns, and other appurtenances of Roman +existence. The excavations have been far from thorough; the peninsular +Troy still awaits its Schliemann. The name Troia was probably bestowed +by Portuguese antiquaries of the Renaissance period, who mention it thus +in their writings. According to Roman records, the city flourished about +300 A.D. as Cetobriga. + +[Illustration: Sketch Map of SETUBAL and RUINS OF TROIA.] + +We must return to the Minho province--still the most representative +section of Portugal--for monuments of Portuguese antiquity. Guimaraens +is the oldest town of purely native growth, and is closely associated +with the life of Affonso Henriquez. The massive castle in which he was +born, and the church which witnessed the christening of the first king +of Portugal, are still standing: the old walls of the town date back to +the time of the hero; and not far off is the field where he fought the +battle which gained him his independence at eighteen. Within a few miles +of Guimaraens is Braga, celebrated for centuries as a stronghold of the +Church. Its Gothic cathedral is of grand proportions, containing a +triple nave, and belongs to the thirteenth century. The church treasures +shut up in its sanctuary are among the richest in the Peninsula. + +Portugal presents the curious spectacle of a country in which the +customs of antiquity have lasted as long as its monuments. In a certain +way the former are the more impressive. As some little familiar trait +will sometimes give a fresher insight into a great man than the more +important facts of his biography, so the ploughing, harvesting and +singing of a Portuguese peasant, with their bucolic simplicity, bring +the life of the ancients a little nearer to us than the sight of their +great aqueducts and columns. But the nineteenth century is striking the +death-blow of the bucolic very fast, the world over, and Portugal is +awake and bestirring herself--not the less effectively that she is +making no noise about it. Nevertheless, she is becoming better known. +Mr. Oswald Crawfurd, the English consul at Oporto, who has lived in +Portugal for many years, is writing about it from the best point of +view, half within, half without. His book of travels published under the +pseudonym of Latouche, and a volume entitled _Portugal, Old and New_, +recently issued under his own name, throw a strong, clear light upon the +country and its inhabitants. Another sympathetic and entertaining +traveller is Lady Jackson, the author of _Fair Lusitania_. + +[Illustration: CHURCH PLATE IN BRAGA CATHEDRAL.] + +The Portugal of Mr. Crawfurd and Lady Jackson is a different land from +that which Southey, Byron and other English celebrities visited at the +beginning of this century: it is not the same which Wordsworth's +daughter, Mrs. Quillinan, travelled through on horseback in 1837, making +light of inconveniences and looking at everything with kind, frank eyes. +Lisbon is no longer a beautiful casket filled with dirt and filth, but a +clean, bright and active city, and Portugal is no longer a sleeping +land, but a well-governed country, which will probably be hindered by +its small natural proportions, but not by any sluggishness or incapacity +of its people, from taking a high place among European nations. + + + + +A GRAVEYARD IDYL. + + +In the summer of 187-, when young Doctor Putnam was recovering from an +attack of typhoid fever, he used to take short walks in the suburbs of +the little provincial town where he lived. He was still weak enough to +need a cane, and had to sit down now and then to rest. His favorite +haunt was an old-fashioned cemetery lying at the western edge of the +alluvial terrace on which the town is built. The steep hillside abuts +boldly on the salt marsh. One of the cemetery-paths runs along the brink +of the hill; and here, on a wooden bench under a clump of red cedars, +Putnam would sit for hours enjoying the listless mood of convalescence. +Where the will remains passive, the mind, like an idle weathercock, +turns to every puff of suggestion, and the senses, born new from +sickness, have the freshness and delicacy of a child's. It soothed his +eye to follow lazily the undulations of the creek, lying like the folds +of a blue silk ribbon on the flat ground of the marsh below. He watched +the ebbing tide suck down the water from the even lines of trenches that +sluiced the meadows till the black mud at their bottom glistened in the +sun. The opposite hills were dark with the heavy foliage of July. In the +distance a sail or two speckled the flashing waters of the bay, and the +lighthouse beyond bounded the southern horizon. + +It was a quiet, shady old cemetery, not much disturbed by funerals. Only +at rare intervals a fresh heap of earth and a slab of clean marble +intruded with their tale of a new and clamorous grief among the sunken +mounds and weatherstained tombstones of the ancient sleepers for whom +the tears had long been dried. Now and then a mourner came to put +flowers on a grave; now and then one of the two or three laborers who +kept the walks and shrubberies in order would come along the path by +Putnam's bench, trundling a squeaking wheelbarrow; sometimes a nurse +with a baby-carriage found her way in. But generally the only sounds to +break the quiet were the songs of birds, the rumble of a wagon over the +spile bridge across the creek and the whetting of scythes in the +water-meadows, where the mowers, in boots up to their waists, went +shearing the oozy plain and stacking up the salt hay. + +One afternoon Putnam was in his accustomed seat, whistling softly to +himself and cutting his initials into the edge of the bench. The air was +breathless, and the sunshine lay so hot on the marshes that it seemed to +draw up in a visible steam a briny incense which mingled with the spicy +smell of the red cedars. Absorbed in reverie, he failed to notice how +the scattered clouds that had been passing across the sky all the +afternoon were being gradually reinforced by big fluffy cumuli rolling +up from the north, until a rumble overhead and the rustle of a shower in +the trees aroused him. + +In the centre of the grounds was an ancient summer-house standing amidst +a maze of flower-beds intersected by gravel-walks. This was the nearest +shelter, and, as the rain began to patter smartly, Putnam pocketed his +knife, turned up his coat-collar and ran for it. Arrived at the +garden-house, he found there a group of three persons, driven to harbor +from different parts of the cemetery. The shower increased to a storm, +the lattices were lashed by the rain and a steady stream poured from the +eaves. The althaea and snowberry bushes in the flower-pots, and even the +stunted box-edges along the paths, swayed in the wind. It grew quite +dark in the summer-house, shaded by two or three old hemlocks, and it +was only by the lightning-flashes that Putnam could make out the +features of the little company of refugees. They stood in the middle of +the building, to avoid the sheets of rain blown in at the doors in +gusts, huddling around a pump that was raised on a narrow stone +platform--not unlike the daughters of Priam clustered about the great +altar in the penetralia: Praecipites atra ceu tempestate columbae. + +They consisted of a young girl, an elderly woman with a trowel and +watering-pot, and a workman in overalls, who carried a spade and had +perhaps been interrupted in digging a grave. The platform around the +pump hardly gave standing room for a fourth. Putnam accordingly took his +seat on a tool-chest near one of the entrances, and, while the soft +spray blew through the lattices over his face and clothes, he watched +the effect of the lightning-flashes on the tossing, dripping trees of +the cemetery-grounds. + +Soon a shout was heard and down one of the gravel-walks, now a miniature +river, rushed a Newfoundland dog, followed by a second man in overalls. +Both reached shelter soaked and lively. The dog distributed the contents +of his fur over our party by the pump, nosed inquiringly about, and then +subsided into a corner. Second laborer exchanged a few words with first +laborer, and melted into the general silence. The slight flurry caused +by their arrival was only momentary, while outside the storm rose higher +and inside it grew still darker. Now and then some one said something in +a low tone, addressed rather to himself than to the others, and lost in +the noise of the thunder and rain. + +But in spite of the silence there seemed to grow up out of the situation +a feeling of intimacy between the members of the little community in the +summer-house. The need of shelter--one of the primitive needs of +humanity--had brought them naturally together and shut them up "in a +tumultuous privacy of storm." In a few minutes, when the shower should +leave off, their paths would again diverge, but for the time being they +were inmates and held a household relation to one another. + +And so it came to pass that when it began to grow lighter and the rain +stopped, and the sun glanced out again on the reeking earth and +saturated foliage, conversation grew general. + +"Gracious sakes!" said the woman with the trowel and watering-pot as +she glanced along the winding canals that led out from the +summer-house--"jest see the water in them walks!" + +"Gol! 'tis awful!" murmured the Irishman with the spade. "There'll be a +fut of water in the grave, and the ould mon to be buried the morning!" + +"Ah, they had a right to put off the funeral," said the other workman, +"and not be giving the poor corp his death of cold." + +"'Tis warrum enough there where the ould mon's gone, but 'tis cold +working for a poor lad like mesilf in the bottom of a wet grave. Gol! +'tis like a dreen." With that he shouldered his spade and waded +reluctantly away. + +Second laborer paused to light his dhudeen, and then disappeared in the +opposite direction, his Newfoundland taking quite naturally to the +deepest puddles in their course. + +"Hath this fellow no feeling of his business?" asked Putnam, rising and +sauntering up to the pump. The question was meant more for the younger +than the elder of the two women, but the former paid no heed to it, and +the latter, by way of answer, merely glanced at him suspiciously and +said "H'm!" She was unlocking the tool-chest on which he had been +sitting, and now raised the lid, stowed away her trowel and +watering-pot, locked the chest again and put the key in her pocket, with +the remark, "I guess I hain't got any more use for a sprinkle-pot +to-day." + +"It is rather _de trop_," said Putnam. + +The old woman looked at him still more distrustfully, and then, drawing +up her skirts, showed to his great astonishment a pair of india-rubber +boots, in which she stumped away through the water and the mud, leaving +in the latter colossal tracks which speedily became as pond-holes in the +shallower bed of the stream. The younger woman stood at the door, +gathering her dress about her ankles and gazing irresolutely at these +frightful _vestigia_ which gauged all too accurately the depth of the +mud and the surface-water above it. + +"They look like the fossil bird-tracks in the Connecticut Valley +sandstone," said Putnam, following the direction of her eyes. + +These were very large and black. She turned them slowly on the speaker, +a tallish young fellow with a face expressive chiefly of a good-natured +audacity and an alertness for whatever in the way of amusement might +come within range. Her look rested on him indifferently, and then turned +back to the wet gravel. + +Putnam studied for a moment the back of her head and her figure, which +was girlishly slender and clad in gray. "How extraordinary," he resumed, +"that she should happen to have rubber boots on!" + +"She keeps them in the tool-chest. The cemetery-man gives her a key," +she replied after a pause, and as if reluctantly. Her voice was very low +and she had the air of talking to herself. + +"Isn't that a rather queer place for a wardrobe? I wonder if she keeps +anything else there besides the boots and the trowel and the +'sprinkle-pot'?" + +"I believe she has an umbrella and some flower-seeds." + +"Now, if she only had a Swedish cooking-box and a patent camp-lounge," +said Putnam laughing, "she could keep house here in regular style." + +"She spends a great deal of time here: her children are all here, she +told me." + +"Well, it's an odd taste to live in a burying-ground, but one might do +worse perhaps. There's nothing like getting accustomed gradually to what +you've got to come to. And then if one must select a cemetery for a +residence, this isn't a bad choice. Have you noticed what quaint old +ways they have about it? At sunset the sexton rings a big bell that +hangs in the arch over the gateway: he told me he had done it every day +for twenty years. It's not done, I believe, on the principle of firing a +sunset gun, but to let people walking in the grounds know the gate is to +be shut. There's a high stone wall, you know, and somebody might get +shut in all night. Think of having to spend the night here!" + +"I have spent the night here often," she answered, again in an absent +voice and as if murmuring to herself. + +"_You_ have?" exclaimed Putnam. "Oh, you slept in the tool-chest, I +suppose, on the old lady's shake-down." + +She was silent, and he began to have a weird suspicion that she had +spoken in earnest. "This is getting interesting," he said to himself; +and then aloud, "You must have seen queer sights. Of course, when the +clock struck twelve all the ghosts popped out and sat on their +respective tombstones. The ghosts in this cemetery must be awfully old +fellows. It doesn't look as if they had buried any one here for a +hundred and thirty-five years. I've often thought it would be a good +idea to inscribe _Complet_ over the gate, as they do on a Paris +omnibus." + +"You speak very lightly of the dead," said the young girl in a tone of +displeasure and looking directly at him. + +Putnam felt badly snubbed. He was about to attempt an explanation, but +her manner indicated that she considered the conversation at an end. She +gathered up her skirts and prepared to leave the summer-house. The water +had soaked away somewhat into the gravel. + +"Excuse me," said Putnam, advancing desperately and touching his hat, +"but I notice that your shoes are thin and the ground is still very wet. +I'm going right over to High street, and if I can send you a carriage or +anything--" + +"Thank you, no: I sha'n't need it;" and she stepped off hastily down the +walk. + +Putnam looked after her till a winding of the path took her out of +sight, and then started slowly homeward. "What the deuce could she +mean," he pondered as he walked along, "about spending the night in the +cemetery? Can she--no she can't--be the gatekeeper's daughter and live +in the gate-house? Anyway, she's mighty pretty." + +His mother and his maiden aunt, who with himself made up the entire +household, received him with small scoldings and twitterings of anxiety. +They felt his wet clothes, prophesied a return of his fever and forced +him to go immediately to bed, where they administered hot drinks and +toast soaked in scalded milk. He lay awake a long time, somewhat +fatigued and excited. In his feeble condition and in the monotony which +his life had assumed of late the trifling experience of the afternoon +took on the full proportions of an adventure. He thought it over again +and again, but finally fell asleep and slept soundly. He awoke once, +just at dawn, and lay looking through his window at a rosy cloud which +reposed upon an infinite depth of sky, motionless as if sculptured +against the blue. A light morning wind stirred the curtains and the +scent of mignonette floated in from the dewy garden. He had that +confused sense of anticipation so common in moments between waking and +sleeping, when some new, pleasant thing has happened, or is to happen on +the morrow, which the memory is too drowsy to present distinctly. Of +this pleasant, indistinct promise that auroral cloud seemed somehow the +omen or symbol, and watching it he fell asleep again. When he next awoke +the sunlight of mid-forenoon was flooding the chamber, and he heard his +mother's voice below stairs as she sat at her sewing. + +In the afternoon he started on his customary walk, and his feet led him +involuntarily to the cemetery. As he traversed the path along the edge +of the hill he saw in one of the grave-lots the heroine of his +yesterday's encounter, and a sudden light broke in on him: she was a +mourner. And yet how happened it that she wore no black? There was a +wooden railing round the enclosure, and within it a single mound and a +tombstone of fresh marble. A few cut flowers lay on the grave. She was +sitting in a low wicker chair, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes +fixed vacantly on the western hills. Putnam now took closer note of her +face. It was of a brown paleness. The air of hauteur given it by the +purity of the profile and the almost insolent stare of the large black +eyes was contradicted by the sweet, irresolute curves of the mouth. At +present her look expressed only a profound apathy. As he approached her +eyes turned toward him, but seemingly without recognition. Diffidence +was not among Tom Putnam's failings: he felt drawn by an unconquerable +sympathy and attraction to speak to her, even at the risk of intruding +upon the sacredness of her grief. + +"Excuse me, miss," he began, stopping in front of her, "but I want to +apologize for what I said yesterday about--about the cemetery. It must +have seemed very heartless to you, but I didn't know that you were in +mourning when I spoke as I did." + +"I have forgotten what you said," she answered. + +"I am glad you have," said Putnam, rather fatuously. There seemed really +nothing further to say, but as he lingered for a moment before turning +away a perverse recollection surprised him, and he laughed out loud. + +She cast a look of strong indignation at him, and rose to her feet. + +"Oh, I ask your pardon a thousand times," he exclaimed reddening +violently. "Please don't think that I was laughing at anything to do +with you. The fact is that last idiotic speech of mine reminded me of +something that happened day before yesterday. I've been sick, and I met +a friend on the street who said, 'I'm glad you're better;' and I +answered, 'I'm glad that you're glad that I'm better;' and then he said, +'I'm glad that you're glad that I'm glad that you're better'--like the +House that Jack Built, you know--and it came over me all of a sudden +that the only way to continue our conversation gracefully would be for +you to say, 'I'm glad that you're glad that I've forgotten what you said +yesterday.'" + +She had listened impatiently to this naive and somewhat incoherent +explanation, and she now said, "I wish you would go away. You see that I +am alone here and in trouble. I can't imagine what motive you can have +for annoying me in this way," her eyes filling with angry tears. + +Putnam was too much pained by the vehemence of her language to attempt +any immediate reply. His first impulse was to bow and retire without +more words. But a pertinacity which formed one of his strongest though +perhaps least amiable traits countermanded his impulse, and he said +gravely, "Certainly, I will go at once, but in justice to myself I must +first assure you that I didn't mean to intrude upon you or annoy you in +any way." + +She sank down into her chair and averted her face. + +"You say," he continued, "that you are in trouble, and I beg you to +believe that I respect your affliction, and that when I spoke to you +just now it was simply to ask pardon for having hurt your feelings +yesterday, without meaning to, by my light mention of the dead. I've +been too near death's door myself lately to joke about it." He paused, +but she remained silent. "I'm going away now," he said softly. "Won't +you say that you excuse me, and that you haven't any hard feelings +toward me?" + +"Yes, oh yes," she answered wearily: "I have no feelings. Please go +away." + +Putnam raised his hat respectfully, and went off down the pathway. On +reaching the little gate-house he sat down to rest on a bench before the +door. The gatekeeper was standing on the threshold in his shirt-sleeves, +smoking a pipe. "A nice day after the rain, sir," he began. + +"Yes, it is." + +"Have you any folks here, sir?" + +"No, no one. But I come here sometimes for a stroll." + +"Yes, I've seen you about. Well, it's a nice, quiet place for a walk, +but the grounds ain't kep' up quite the shape they used to be: there +ain't so much occasion for it. Seems as though the buryin' business was +dull, like pretty much everything else now-a-days." + +"Yes, that's so," replied Putnam absently. + +The gatekeeper spat reflectively upon the centre of the doorstep, and +resumed: "There's some that comes here quite reg'lar, but they mostly +have folks here. There's old Mrs. Lyon comes very steady, and there's +young Miss Pinckney: she's one of the most reg'lar." + +"Is that the young lady in gray, with black eyes?" + +"That's she." + +"Who is she in mourning for?" + +"Well, she ain't exactly in mourning. I guess, from what they say, she +hain't got the money for black bunnets and dresses, poor gal! But it's +her brother that's buried here--last April. He was in the hospital +learning the doctor's business when he was took down." + +"In the hospital? Was he from the South, do you know?" + +"Well, that I can't say: like enough he was." + +"Did you say that she is poor?" + +"So they was telling me at the funeral. It was a mighty poor funeral +too--not more'n a couple of hacks. But you can't tell much from that, +with the fashions now-a-days: some of the richest folks buries private +like. You don't see no such funerals now as they had ten years back. +I've seen fifty kerridges to onst a-comin' in that gate," waving his +pipe impressively toward that piece of architecture, "and that was when +kerridge-hire was half again as high as it is now. She must have spent a +goodly sum in green-house flowers, though: fresh b[=o]quets 'most every +day she keeps a-fetchin'." + +"Well, good-day," said Putnam, starting off. + +"Good-day, sir." + +Putnam had himself just completed his studies at the medical college +when attacked by fever, and he now recalled somewhat vaguely a student +of the name of Pinckney, and remembered to have heard that he was a +Southerner. The gatekeeper's story increased the interest which he was +beginning to feel in his new acquaintance, and he resolved to follow up +his inauspicious beginnings to a better issue. He knew that great +delicacy would be needed in making further approaches, and so decided to +keep out of her sight for a time. In the course of the next few days he +ascertained, by visits to the cemetery and talks with the keeper, that +she now seldom visited her brother's grave in the forenoon, although +during the first month after his death she had spent all her days and +some of her nights beside it. + +"I hadn't the heart, sir, to turn her out at sundown, accordin' to the +regulations; so I'd leave the gate kinder half on the jar, and she'd +slip out when she had a mind to." + +Putnam read the inscription on the tombstone, which ran as follows: "To +the Memory of Henry Pinckney. Born October 29th, 1852. Died April 27th, +187-;" and under this the text, "If thou have borne him hence, tell me +where thou hast laid him." He noticed with a sudden twinge of pity that +the flowers on the grave, though freshly picked every day, were +wild-flowers--mostly the common field varieties, with now and then a +rarer blossom from wood or swamp, and now and then a garden flower. He +gathered from this that the sister's purse was running low, and that she +spent her mornings in collecting flowers outside the city. His +imagination dwelt tenderly upon her slim, young figure and mourning face +passing through far-away fields and along the margins of lonely creeks +in search of some new bloom which grudging Nature might yield her for +her sorrowful needs. Meanwhile he determined that the shrine of her +devotion should not want richer offerings. There was a hot-house on the +way from his home to the cemetery, and he now stopped there occasionally +of a morning and bought a few roses to lay upon the mound. This +continued for a fortnight. He noticed that his offerings were left to +wither undisturbed, though the little bunches of field flowers were +daily renewed as before. + +In spite of the funereal nature of his occupation his spirits in these +days were extraordinarily high. His life, so lately escaped from the +shadows of death, seemed to enjoy a rejuvenescence and to put forth +fresh blossoms in the summer air. As he sat under the cedars and +listened to the buzzing of the flies that frequented the shade, the +unending sound grew to be an assurance of earthly immortality. His new +lease of existence prolonged itself into a fee simple, and even in +presence of the monuments of decay his future, filled with bright hazy +dreams, melted softly into eternity. But one morning as he approached +the little grave-lot with his accustomed offerings he looked up and saw +the young girl standing before him. Her eyes were fixed on the flowers +in his hand. He colored guiltily and stood still, like a boy caught +robbing an orchard. She looked both surprised and embarrassed, but said +at once, "If you are the gentleman who has been putting flowers on my +brother's grave, I thank you for his sake, but--" + +She paused, and he broke in: "I ought to explain, Miss Pinckney, that I +have a better right than you think, perhaps, to bring these flowers +here: I was a fellow-student with your brother in the medical school." + +Her expression changed immediately. "Oh, did you know my brother?" she +asked eagerly. + +He felt like a wretched hypocrite as he answered, "Yes, I knew him, +though not intimately exactly. But I took--I take--a very strong +interest in him." + +"Every one loved Henry who knew him," she said, "but his class have all +been graduated and gone away, and he made few friends, because he was so +shy. No one comes near him now but me." + +He was silent. She walked to the grave, and he followed, and they stood +there without speaking. It did not seem to occur to her to ask why he +had not mentioned her brother at their former interview. She was +evidently of an unsuspecting nature, or else all other impressions were +forgotten and absorbed in the one thought of her bereavement. After a +glance at her Putnam ventured to lay his roses reverently upon the +mound. She held in her hand a few wild-flowers just gathered. These she +kissed, and dropped them also on the grave. He understood the meaning of +her gesture and was deeply moved. + +"Poor little, dull-colored things!" she said, looking down at them. + +"They are a thousand times more beautiful than mine," he exclaimed +passionately. "I am ashamed of those heartless affairs: anybody can buy +them." + +"Oh no: my brother was very fond of roses. Perhaps you remember his +taste for them?" she inquired innocently. + +"I--I don't think he ever alluded to them. The atmosphere of the medical +college was not very aesthetic, you know." + +"At first I used to bring green-house flowers," she continued, without +much heeding his answer, "but lately I haven't been able to afford them +except on Sundays. Sundays I bring white ones from the green-house." + +She had seated herself in her wicker chair, and Putnam, after a moment's +hesitation, sat down on the low railing near her. He observed among the +wild plants that she had gathered the mottled leaves and waxy blossoms +of the pipsissewa and its cousin the shinleaf. + +"You have been a long way to get some of those," he said: "that +pipsissewa grows in hemlock woods, and the nearest are several miles +from here." + +"I don't know their names. I found them in a wood where I used to walk +sometimes with my brother. _He_ knew all their names. I went there very +early this morning, when the dew was on them." + +"'Flowers that have on them the cold dews of the night are strewings +fittest for graves,'" said Putnam in an undertone. + +Her face had assumed its usual absent expression, and she seemed busy +with some memory and unconscious of his presence. He recalled the latter +to her by rising and saying, "I will bid you good-morning now, but I +hope you will let me come and sit here sometimes if it doesn't disturb +you. I have been very sick myself lately: I was near dying of the +typhoid fever. I think it does me good to come here." + +"Did you have the typhoid? My brother died of the typhoid." + +"May I come sometimes?" + +"You may come if you wish to visit Henry. But please don't bring any +more of those expensive flowers. I suppose it is selfish in me, but I +can't bear to have any of his friends do more for him than I can." + +"I won't bring any more, of course, if it troubles you, and I thank you +very much for letting me come. Good-morning, Miss Pinckney." He bowed +and walked away. + +Putnam availed himself discreetly of the permission given. He came +occasionally of an afternoon, and sat for an hour at a time. Usually she +said little. Her silence appeared to proceed not from reserve, but from +dejection. Sometimes she spoke of her brother. Putnam learned that he +had been her only near relative. Their parents had died in her +childhood, and she had come North with her brother when he entered the +medical school. From something that she once said Putnam inferred that +her brother had owned an annuity which died with him, and that she had +been left with little or nothing. They had few acquaintances in the +North, almost none in the city. An aunt in the South had offered her a +home, and she was going there in the fall. She looked forward with dread +to the time of her departure. + +"It will be so cruel," she said, "to leave my poor boy all alone here +among strangers, and I never away from him before." + +"Don't think of it now," he answered, "and when you are gone I will come +here often and see to everything." + +Her bereavement had evidently benumbed all her faculties and left her +with a slight hold on life. She had no hopes or wishes for the future. +In alluding to her brother she confused her tenses, speaking of him +sometimes in the past, and sometimes in the present as of one still +alive. Putnam felt that in a girl of her age this mood was too unnatural +to last, and he reckoned not unreasonably on the reaction that must come +when her youth began again to assert its rights. He was now thoroughly +in love, and as he sat watching her beautiful abstracted face he found +it hard to keep back some expression of tenderness. Often, too, it was +difficult for him to tone down his spirits to the proper pitch of +respectful sympathy with her grief. His existence was golden with +new-found life and hope: into the shadow that covered hers he could not +enter. He could only endeavor to draw her out into the sunshine once +more. + +One day the two were sitting, as usual, in silence or speaking but +rarely. It was a day in the very core of summer, and the life of Nature +was at its flood. The shadows of the trees rested so heavy and +motionless on the grass that they appeared to sink into it and weigh it +down like palpable substances. + +"I feel," said Putnam suddenly, "as though I should live for ever." + +"Did you ever doubt it?" she asked. + +"Oh, I mean here--_ici bas_--in the body. I can't conceive of death or +of a spiritual existence on such a day as this." + +"There is nothing here to live for," she said wearily. Presently she +added, "This hot glare makes me sick: I wish those men would stop +hammering on the bridge. I wish I could die and get away into the dark." + +Putnam paused before replying. He had never heard her speak so +impatiently. Was the revulsion coming? Was she growing tired of sorrow? +After a minute he said, "Ah, you don't know what it is to be a +convalescent and lie for months in a darkened room listening to the +hand-organ man and the scissors-grinder, and the fellow that goes +through the street hallooing 'Cash paid for rags!' It's like having a +new body to get the use of your limbs again and come out into the +sunshine." + +"Were you very sick?" she inquired with some show of interest. + +He remembered with some mortification that he had told her so once or +twice before. She had apparently forgotten it. "Yes, I nearly died." + +"Were you glad to recover?" + +"Well, I can't remember that I had any feelings in particular when I +first struck the up-track. It was hard work fighting for life, and I +don't think I cared much one way or the other. But when I got well +enough to sit up it began to grow interesting. I used to sit at the +window in a very infantile frame of mind and watch everything that went +by. It wasn't a very rowdy life, as the prisoner in solitary confinement +said to Dickens. We live in a back street, where there's not much +passing. The advent of the baker's cart used to be the chief excitement. +It was painted red and yellow, and he baked very nice leaf-cookies. My +mother would hang a napkin in the door-knocker when she wanted him to +stop; and as I couldn't see the knocker from my window, I used to make +bets with Dummy as to whether the wagon would stop or not." + +"Your mother is living, then?" + +"Yes: my father died when I was a boy." + +She asked no further questions, but a few minutes after rose and said, +"I think I will go now. Good-evening." + +He had never before outstayed her. He looked at his watch and found that +it was only half-past four. + +"I hope," he began anxiously, "that you are not feeling sick: you spoke +just now of being oppressed by the heat. Excuse me for staying so long." + +"Oh no," she answered, "I'm not sick. I reckon I need a little rest. +Good-evening." + +Putnam lingered after she was gone. He found his way to his old bench +under the cedars and sat there for a while. He had not occupied this +seat since his first meeting with Miss Pinckney in the summer-house, and +the initials which he had whittled on its edge impressed him as +belonging to some bygone stage of his history. This was the first time +that she had questioned him about himself. His sympathy had won her +confidence, but she had treated him hitherto in an impersonal way, as +something tributary to her brother's memory, like the tombstone or the +flowers on his grave. The suspicion that he was seeking her for her own +sake had not, so far as Putnam could discover, ever entered her +thoughts. + +But in the course of their next few interviews there came a change in +her behavior. The simplicity and unconsciousness of her sorrow had +become complicated with some other feeling. He caught her looking at him +narrowly once or twice, and when he looked hard at her there was visible +in her manner a soft agitation--something which in a girl of more +sanguine complexion might have been interpreted as a blush. She +sometimes suffered herself to be coaxed a little way into talking of +things remote from the subject of her sorrow. Occasionally she +questioned Putnam shyly about himself, and he needed but slight +encouragement to wax confidential. She listened quietly to his +experiences, and even smiled now and then at something that he said. His +heart beat high with triumph: he fancied that he was leading her slowly +up out of the Valley of the Shadow of Death. + +But the upward path was a steep one. She had many sudden relapses and +changes of mood. Putnam divined that she felt her grief loosening its +tight hold on her and slipping away, and that she clung to it as a +consecrated thing with a morbid fear of losing it altogether. There were +days when her demeanor betokened a passionate self-reproach, as though +she accused herself secretly of wronging her brother and profaning his +tomb in allowing more cheerful thoughts to blunt the edge of her +bereavement. He remarked also that her eyes were often red from weeping. +There sometimes mingled with her remorse a plain resentment toward +himself. At such times she would hardly speak to him, and the slightest +gayety or even cheerfulness on his part was received as downright +heartlessness. He made a practice, therefore, of withdrawing at once +whenever he found her in this frame of mind. + +One day they had been sitting long together. She had appeared unusually +content, but had spoken little. The struggle in her heart had perhaps +worn itself out for the present, and she had yielded to the warm current +of life and hope which was bearing her back into the sunshine. Suddenly +the elderly woman who had formed one of the company in the summer-house +on the day of the thunderstorm passed along the walk with her trowel and +watering-pot. She nodded to Miss Pinckney, and then, pausing opposite +the pair, glanced sharply from one to the other, smiled significantly +and passed on. This trifling incident aroused Putnam's companion from +her reverie: she looked at him with a troubled expression and said, "Do +you think you ought to come here so much?" + +"Why not?" + +"I don't know. How well did you know my brother Henry?" + +"If I didn't know him so very intimately when he was living, I feel that +I know him well now from all that you have told me about him. And, if +you will pardon my saying so, I feel that I know his sister a little +too, and have some title to her acquaintance." + +"You have been very kind, and I am grateful for it, but perhaps you +ought not to come so much." + +"I'm sorry if I have come too much," rejoined Putnam bitterly, "but I +shall not come much more. I am going away soon. The doctor says I am not +getting along fast enough and must have change of air. He has ordered me +to the mountains." + +There was silence for a few minutes. He was looking moodily down at the +turf, pulling a blade of grass now and then, biting it and throwing it +away. + +"I thank you very much for your sympathy and kindness," she said at +length, rising from her chair; "and I hope you will recover very fast in +the mountains. Good-bye." + +She extended her hand, which Putnam took and held. It was trembling +perceptibly. "Wait a moment," he said. "Before I go I should like to +show some little mark of respect to your brother's memory. Won't you +meet me at the green-house to-morrow morning--say about nine +o'clock--and select a few flowers? They will be your flowers, you +know--your offering." + +"Yes," she answered, "I will; and I thank you again for him." + +The next morning at the appointed hour Putnam descended the steps into +the green-house. The gardener had just watered the plants. A rich steam +exhaled from the earth and clouded all the glass, and the moist air was +heavy with the breath of heliotropes and roses. A number of butterflies +were flying about, and at the end of a many-colored perspective of +leaves and blossoms Putnam saw Miss Pinckney hovering around a +collection of tropical orchids. The gardener had passed on into an +adjoining hot-house, and no sound broke the quiet but the dripping of +water in a tank of aquatic plants. The fans of the palms and the long +fronds of the tree-ferns hung as still as in some painting of an Indian +isle. + +She greeted him with a smile and held out her hand to him. The beauty of +the morning and of the place had wrought in her a gentle intoxication, +and the mournful nature of her errand was for the moment forgotten. +"Isn't it delicious here?" she exclaimed: "I think I should like to live +in a green-house and grow like a plant." + +"A little of that kind of thing would do you no end of good," he +replied--"a little concentrated sunshine and bright colors and the smell +of the fresh earth, you know. If you were my patient, I would make you +take a course of it. I'd say you wanted more vegetable tissue, and +prescribe a green-house for six months. I've no doubt this man here +would take you. A young-lady apprentice would be quite an attractive +feature. You could pull off dead leaves and strike graceful attitudes, +training up vines, like the gardener's daughter in Tennyson." + +"What are those gorgeous things?" she asked, pointing to a row of +orchids hung on nails along the wall. + +"Those are epiphytic orchids--air-plants, you know: they require no +earth for their roots: they live on the air." + +"Like a chameleon?" + +"Like a chameleon." + +He took down from its nail one of the little wooden slabs, and showed +her the roots coiled about it, with the cluster of bulbs. The flower was +snow-white and shaped like a butterfly. The fringe of the lip was of a +delicate rose-pink, and at the base of it were two spots of rich maroon, +each with a central spot of the most vivid orange. Every color was as +pronounced as though it were the only one. + +"What a daring combination!" she cried. "If a lady should dress in all +those colors she'd be thought vulgar, but somehow it doesn't seem vulgar +in a flower." + +She turned the blossom over and looked at the under side of the petals. +"Those orange spots show right through the leaf," she went on, "as if +they were painted and the paint laid on thick." + +"Do you know," said Putnam, "that what you've just said gives me a good +deal of encouragement?" + +"Encouragement? How?" + +"Well, it's the first really feminine thing--At least--no, I don't mean +that. But it makes me think that you are more like other girls." + +His explanation was interrupted by the entrance of the gardener. + +"Will you select some of those orchids, please--if you like them, that +is?" asked Putnam. + +A shade passed over her face. "They are too gay for his--for Henry," she +answered. + +"Try to tolerate a little brightness to-day," he pleaded in a low voice. +"You must dedicate this morning to me: it's the last, you know." + +"I will take a few of them if you wish it, but not this one. I will take +that little white one and that large purple one." + +The gardener reached down the varieties which she pointed out, and they +passed along the alley to select other flowers. She chose a number of +white roses, dark-shaded fuchsias and English violets, and then they +left the place. Her expression had grown thoughtful, though not +precisely sad. They walked slowly up the long shady street leading to +the cemetery. + +"I am dropping some of the flowers," she said, stopping: "will you carry +these double fuchsias a minute, please, while I fasten the others?" + +He took them and laughed. "Now, if this were in a novel," he said, "what +a neat opportunity for me to say, 'May I not _always_ carry your double +fuchsias?'" + +She looked at him quickly, and her brown cheek blushed rosy red, but she +started on without making any reply and walked faster. + +"She takes," he said to himself. But he saw the cemetery-gate at the end +of the street. "I must make this walk last longer," he thought. +Accordingly, he invented several cunning devices to prolong it, stopping +now and then to point out something worth noting in the handsome grounds +which lined the street. And so they sauntered along, she appearing to +have forgotten the speech which had embarrassed her, or at least she did +not resent it. They paused in front of a well-kept lawn, and he drew her +attention to the turf. "It's almost as dark as the evergreens," he said. + +"Yes," she answered, "it's so green that it's almost blue." + +"What do you suppose makes the bees gather round that croquet-stake so?" + +"I reckon they take the bright colors on it for flowers," she answered, +with a certain quaintness of fancy which he had often remarked in her. + +As they stood there leaning against the fence a party of school-girls +came along with their satchels and spelling-books. They giggled and +stared as they passed the fence, and one of them, a handsome, +long-legged, bold-faced thing, said aloud, "Oh my! Look at me and my +fancy beau a-takin' a walk!" + +Putnam glanced at his companion, who colored nervously and looked away. +"Saucy little giglets!" he laughed. "Did you hear what she said?" + +"Yes," almost inaudibly. + +"I hope it didn't annoy you?" + +"It was very rude," walking on. + +"Well, I rather like naughty school-girls: they are amusing creatures. +When I was a very small boy I was sent to a girls' school, and I used to +study their ways. They always had crumbs in their apron-pockets; they +used to write on a slate, 'Tommy is a good boy,' and hold it up for me +to see when the teacher wasn't looking; they borrowed my geography at +recess and painted all the pictures vermilion and yellow." He paused, +but she said nothing, and he continued, talking against time, "There was +one piece of chewing-gum in that school which circulated from mouth to +mouth. It had been originally spruce gum, I believe, but it was +masticated beyond recognition: the parent tree wouldn't have known her +child. One day I found it hidden away on a window-sill behind the +shutter. It was flesh-colored and dented all over with the marks of +sharp little teeth. I kept that chewing-gum for a week, and the school +was like a cow that's lost her cud." + +As Putnam completed these reminiscences they entered the cemetery-gate, +and the shadow of its arch seemed to fall across the young girl's soul. +The bashful color had faded from her cheek and the animation from her +eye. Her face wore a troubled expression: she walked slowly and looked +about at the gravestones. + +Putnam stopped talking abruptly, but presently said, "You have not asked +me for your fuchsias." + +She stood still and held out her hand for them. + +"I thought you might be meaning to let me keep them," said Putnam. His +heart beat fast and his voice trembled as he continued: "Perhaps you +thought that what I said a while ago was said in joke, but I mean it in +real earnest." + +"Mean what?" she asked faintly. + +"Don't you know what I mean?" he said, coming nearer and taking her +hand. "Shall I tell you, darling?" + +"Oh, please don't! Oh, I think I know. Not here--not now. Give me the +flowers," she said, disengaging her hand, "and I will put them on +Henry's grave." + +He handed them to her and said, "I won't go on now if it troubles you; +but tell me first--I am going away to-morrow, and sha'n't be back till +October--shall I find you here then, and may I speak then?" + +"I shall be here till winter." + +"And may I speak then?" + +"Yes." + +"And will you listen?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I can wait." + +They moved on again along the cemetery-walks. Putnam felt an exultation +that he could not suppress. In spite of her language, her face and the +tone of her voice had betrayed her. He knew that she cared for him. But +in the blindness of his joy he failed to notice an increasing agitation +in her manner, which foretold the approach of some painful crisis of +feeling. Her conflicting emotions, long pent up, were now in most +delicate equilibrium. The slightest shock might throw them out of +balance. Putnam's nature, though generous and at bottom sympathetic, +lacked the fineness of insight needed to interpret the situation. Like +many men of robust and heedless temperament, he was more used to bend +others' moods to his own than to enter fully into theirs. His way of +approaching the subject had been unfortunate, beginning as he had with a +jest. The sequel was destined to be still more unlucky. + +They had reached a part of the cemetery which was not divided into lots, +but formed a sort of burial commons for the behoof of the poor. It was +used mainly by Germans, and the graves were principally those of +children. The headstones were wooden, painted white, with inscriptions +in black or gilt lettering. Humble edgings of white pebbles or shells, +partly embedded in the earth, bordered some of the graves: artificial +flowers, tinsel crosses, hearts and other such fantastic decorations lay +upon the mounds. Putnam's companion paused with an expression of pity +before one of these uncouth sepulchres, a little heap of turf which +covered the body of a "span-long babe." + +"Now, isn't that _echt Deutsch_?" began Putnam, whom the gods had made +mad. "Is that glass affair let into the tombstone a looking-glass or a +portrait of the deceased--like that 'statoot of a deceased infant' that +Holmes tells about? Even our ancestral cherub and willow tree are better +than that, or even the inevitable sick lamb and broken lily." + +"The people are poor," she murmured. + +"They do the same sort of thing when they're rich. It's the national +_Geschmack_ to stick little tawdry fribbles all over the face of +Nature." + +"Poor little baby!" she said gently. + +"It's a rather old baby by this time," rejoined Putnam, pointing out the +date on the wooden slab--"Eighteen fifty-one: it would be older than I +now if it had kept on." + +Her eyes fell upon the inscription, and she read it aloud. "Hier ruht in +Gott Heinrich Frantz, Geb. Mai 13, 1851. Gest. August 4, 1852. Wir +hoffen auf Wiedersehen." She repeated the last words softly over to +herself. + +"Are those white things cobblestones, or what?" continued Putnam +perversely, indicating the border which quaintly encircled the little +mound. "As I live," he exclaimed, "they are door-knobs!" and he poked +one of them out of the ground with the end of his cane. + +"Stop!" she cried vehemently: "how can you do that?" + +He dropped his cane and looked at her in wonder. She burst into tears +and turned away. "You think I am a heartless brute?" he cried +remorsefully, hastening after her. + +"Oh, go away, please--go away and leave me alone. I am going to my +brother: I want to be alone." + +She hurried on, and he paused irresolute. "Miss Pinckney!" he called +after her, but she made no response. His instinct, now aroused too late, +told him that he had better leave her alone for the present. So he +picked up his walking-stick and turned reluctantly homeward. He cursed +himself mentally as he retraced the paths along which they had walked +together a few moments before. "I'm a fool," he said to himself: "I've +gone and upset it all. Couldn't I see that she was feeling badly? I +suppose I imagined that I was funny, and she thought I was an insensible +brute. This comes of giving way to my infernal high spirits." At the +same time a shade of resentment mingled with his self-reproaches. "Why +can't she be a little more cheerful and like other girls, and make some +allowance for a fellow?" he asked. "Her brother wasn't everybody else's +brother. It's downright morbid, this obstinate woe of hers. Other people +have lost friends and got over it." + +On the morrow he was to start for the mountains. He visited the cemetery +in the morning, but Miss Pinckney was not there. He did not know her +address, nor could the gatekeeper inform him; and in the afternoon he +set out on his journey with many misgivings. + +It was early October when Putnam returned to the city. He went at once +to the cemetery, but on reaching the grave his heart sank at the sight +of a bunch of withered flowers which must have lain many days upon the +mound. The blossoms were black and the stalks brittle and dry. "Can she +have changed her mind and gone South already?" he asked himself. + +There was a new sexton in the gate-house, who could tell him nothing +about her. He wandered through the grounds, looking for the old woman +with the watering-pot, but the season had grown cold, and she had +probably ceased her gardening operations for the year. He continued his +walk beyond the marshes. The woods had grown rusty and the sandy +pastures outside the city were ringing with the incessant creak of +grasshoppers, which rose in clouds under his feet as he brushed through +the thin grass. The blue-curl and the life-everlasting distilled their +pungent aroma in the autumn sunshine. A feeling of change and +forlornness weighed upon his spirit. As with Thomas of Ercildoune, whom +the Queen of Faery carried away into Eildon Hill, the short period of +his absence seemed seven years long. An old English song came into his +head: + + Winter wakeneth all my care, + Now these leaves waxeth bare: + Oft in cometh into my thought, + Of this worldes joy how it goeth all to naught. + +Soon after arriving at the hills he had written to Miss Pinckney a long +letter of explanations and avowals; but he did not know the number of +her lodgings, or, oddly enough, even her Christian name, and the letter +had been returned to him unopened. The next month was one of the +unhappiest in Putnam's life. On returning to the city, thoroughly +restored in health, he had opened an office, but he found it impossible +to devote himself quietly to the duties of his profession. He visited +the cemetery at all hours, but without success. He took to wandering +about in remote quarters and back streets of the town, and eyed sharply +every female figure that passed him in the twilight, especially if it +walked quickly or wore a veil. He slept little at night, and grew +restless and irritable. He had never confided this experience even to +his mother: it seemed to him something apart. + +One afternoon toward the middle of November he was returning homeward +weary and dejected from a walk in the suburbs. His way led across an +unenclosed outskirt of the town which served as a common to the poor +people of the neighborhood. It was traversed by a score of footpaths, +and frequented by goats, and by ducks that dabbled in the puddles of +rain-water collected in the hollows. Halfway across this open tract +stood what had formerly been an old-fashioned country-house, now +converted into a soap-boiling establishment. Around this was a clump of +old pine trees, the remnant of a grove which had once flourished in the +sandy soil. There was something in the desolation of the place that +flattered Putnam's mood, and he stopped to take it in. The air was dusk, +but embers of an angry sunset burned low in the west. A cold wind made a +sound in the pine-tops like the beating of surf on a distant shore. A +flock of little winter birds flew suddenly up from the ground into one +of the trees, like a flight of gray leaves whirled up by a gust. As +Putnam turned to look at them he saw, against the strip of sunset along +the horizon, the slim figure of a girl walking rapidly toward the +opposite side of the common. His heart gave a great leap, and he started +after her on a run. At a corner of the open ground the figure vanished, +nor could Putnam decide into which of two or three small streets she had +turned. He ran down one and up another, but met no one except a few +laborers coming home from work, and finally gave up the quest. But this +momentary glimpse produced in him a new excitement. He felt sure that he +had not been mistaken: he knew the swift, graceful step, the slight form +bending in the wind. He fancied that he had even recognized the poise +and shape of the little head. He imagined, too, that he had not been +unobserved, and that she had some reason for avoiding him. For a week or +more he haunted the vicinity of the common, but without result. December +was already drawing to an end when he received the following note: + + "DEAR MR. PUTNAM: You must forgive me for running away from you + the other evening: I am right--am I not?--in supposing that you + saw and recognized me. It was rude in me not to wait for you, + but I had not courage to talk with any one just then. Perhaps I + should have seen you before at the cemetery--if you still walk + there--but I have been sick and have not been there for a long + time. I was only out for the first time when I saw you last + Friday. My aunt has sent for me, and I am going South in a few + days. I shall leave directions to have this posted to you as + soon as I am gone. + + "I promised to be here when you came back, and I write this to + thank you for your kind interest in me and to explain why I go + away without seeing you again. I think that I know what you + wanted to ask me that day that we went to the green-house, and + perhaps under happier circumstances I could have given you the + answer which you wished. But I have seen so much sorrow, and I + am of such a gloomy disposition, that I am not fit for cheerful + society, and I know you would regret your choice. + + "I shall think very often and very gratefully of you, and shall + not forget the words on that little German baby's gravestone. + Good-bye. + + "IMOGEN PINCKNEY." + +Putnam felt stunned and benumbed on first reading this letter. Then he +read it over mechanically two or three times. The date was a month old, +but the postmark showed that it had just been mailed. She must have +postponed her departure somewhat after writing it, or the person with +whom it had been left had neglected to post it till now. He felt a +sudden oppression and need of air, and taking his hat left the house. It +was evening, and the first snow of the season lay deep on the ground. +Anger and grief divided his heart. "It's too bad! too bad!" he murmured, +with tears in his eyes: "she might have given me one chance to speak. +She hasn't been fair to me. What's the matter with her, anyhow? She has +brooded and brooded till she is downright melancholy-mad;" and then, +with a revulsion of feeling, "My poor darling girl! Here she has been, +sick and all alone, sitting day after day in that cursed graveyard. I +ought never to have gone to the mountains: I ought to have stayed. I +might have known how it would turn out. Well, it's all over now, I +suppose." + +He had taken, half unconsciously, the direction of the cemetery, and now +found himself at the entrance. The gate was locked, but he climbed over +the wall and waded through the snow to the spot where he had sat with +her so many summer afternoons. The wicker chair was buried out of sight +in a drift. A scarcely-visible undulation in the white level marked the +position of the mound, and the headstone had a snow-cap. The cedars +stood black in the dim moonlight, and the icy coating of their boughs +rattled like candelabra. He stood a few moments near the railing, and +then tore the letter into fragments and threw them on the snow. "There! +good-bye, good-bye!" he said bitterly as the wind carried them skating +away over the crust. + +But what was that? The moon cast a shadow of Henry Pinckney's headstone +on the snow, but what was that other and similar shadow beyond it? +Putnam had been standing edgewise to the slab: he shifted his position +now and saw a second stone and a second mound side by side with the +first. An awful faintness and trembling seized him as he approached it +and bent his head close down to the marble. The jagged shadows of the +cedar-branches played across the surface, but by the uncertain light he +could read the name "Imogen Pinckney," and below it the inscription, +"Wir hoffen auf Wiedersehen." + + HENRY A. BEERS. + + + + +STUDIES IN THE SLUMS. + + +VI.--JAN OF THE NORTH. + +"You're wanted at 248, and they said go quick. It's Brita, I shouldn't +wonder. Lord pity her, but it's a wild night to go out! Seems like as if +the Lord would have hard work to find anybody, with the rain an' sleet +pourin' an' drivin' so't you can't see a foot before your face. But He +will." + +"Yes, He will," the doctor's quiet voice answered. "Poor little Brita! I +am glad her trouble is almost over. Will you come? Remember how dreadful +the place is." + +"More so for me than for you?" + +"Surely, for I have been in the midst of such for twenty years, and +among them all have never known a worse den than that in which these +poor souls are stranded. If I could only see a way out for them!" + +The doctor had not been idle as she spoke, and stood ready now in thick +gray waterproof and close bonnet, her face a shade graver than its +always steady, gentle calm. Jerry followed, his badge of deputy sheriff +hastily put on, for the alley was one of the worst in the Fourth Ward, +and, well as she was known through its length and breadth, here the +bravest might shrink from going unattended. Out into the night, the wild +wind and beating rain seeming best accompaniments to the brutal revelry +in the dance-houses and "bucket-shops" all about. Here, one heard the +cracked and discordant sounds from the squeaking fiddles or clarionets +of the dance-music, and there, were shouts and oaths and the crash of +glass as a drunken fight went on, undisturbed by policeman and watched +with only a languid interest by the crowd of heavy drinkers. Up Cherry +street, past staggering men, and women with the indescribable voice that +once heard is never forgotten, all, seemingly regardless of the storm, +laughing aloud or shrieking as a sudden gust whirled them on. Then the +alley, dark and noisome, the tall tenement-houses rising on either side, +a wall of pestilence and misery, shutting in only a little deeper +misery, a little surer pestilence, to be faced as it might be. + +"It's hell on earth," said Jerry as we passed up the stairs, dark and +broken, pausing a moment as the sound of a scuffle and a woman's shrill +scream came from one of the rooms. "Do you wonder there's murder, an' +worse than murder, done in these holes? Oh, what would I give to tumble +them, the whole crop of the devil's own homes, straight into the river!" + +"Hush," the doctor said. "Stay, Jerry, a few minutes. You may be wanted, +but there is not room for all in there." + +As she spoke the door had opened, and a tall, gaunt woman in the +distinctive Swedish dress stood before us and mutely pointed us in. It +was hard to distinguish anything in the dim light of a flickering tallow +candle placed in a corner to screen it from the wind, which whistled +through cracks and forced the rain through the broken roof. On a pile of +rags lay three children, sleeping soundly. By the table sat a heavy +figure, the face bowed and hidden in the arms folded upon it, and on the +wretched bed lay the wasted figure of the girl whose life was passing in +the storm. + +"Poor little Brita!" I said again, for as the doctor bent over her and +took her hand the eyes opened and a faint smile came to the sweet, +child-like face. Long braids of fair hair lay on the pillow, the eyes +were blue and clear, and the face, wearing now the strange gray shadow +of death, held a delicate beauty still, that with health and color would +have made one turn to look at it again wherever encountered. The mother +stood silent and despairing at the foot of the bed. The motionless +figure at the table did not stir. There was no fire or sign of comfort +in the naked room, and but the scantiest of covering on the bed. + +The girl looked up faintly and put out her hand. "Pray," she said in a +whisper--"pray for the mother;" but even as she spoke she gasped, half +rose, then fell back, and was gone, the look of entreaty still in the +eyes. The doctor closed them gently, the poor eyes that would never need +to beg for help any more, and then the mother, still silent, came softly +and touched the girl's face, sinking down then by the side of the bed +and stroking the dead hands as if to bring back life. + +The man had risen too and came slowly to her side. "I thank God she iss +gone away from all trouble," he said, "but oh, my doctor, it iss so +hard!" + +"Hard!" the woman echoed and rose. "I will not hear of God: I hate God. +There iss no God, but only a deffil, who does all he vill. Brita iss +gone, and Lars and little Jan. Now it must be de oders, and den I know +vat you call God vill laugh. He vill say, 'Ah, now I haf dem all. De +fool fader and de fool moder, dey may live.'" + +"Brita! poor Brita!" the man said softly, and added some words in his +own tongue. She pushed him away, then burst into wild weeping and sank +down on the floor. + +"He will be her best comforter," the doctor said. "We will go now, and I +will see them all to-morrow. That money will get the coffin," she added +as she laid a bill on the table and then went softly out, "but the +coffin would not have been needed if help could have come three months +ago." + +"I thought it was some drunken home," I said, "but that man can never +have gone very far wrong. He has a noble head." + +"No, it is only hard times," she answered. "Go again, and you will learn +the whole story, unless you choose to hear it from me." + +"No," I said as we stood under the shelter of the still unfinished +Franklin Square Station on the elevated road, "I will hear it for myself +if I can." + +The time came sooner than I thought. A month later I went up the dark +stairs, whose treacherous places I had learned to know, and found the +room empty of all signs of occupation, though the bed and table still +stood there. + +"They're gone," a voice called from below. "They've come into luck, Pat +says, but I don't know. Anyhow, they turned out o' here yesterday, an' +left the things there for whoever 'd be wantin' 'em." + +"Bad 'cess to the furriner!" said another voice as I passed down. +"Comin' here wid his set-up ways, an' schornin' a bit of dhrink!" + +"An' if ye'd take patthern of him yerself--" the woman's voice began, +and was silenced by a push back into her room and the loud slam of the +door. + +"They have come to better times surely," the janitor said as I asked +their whereabouts at the mission, "an' here's their new number. It's a +quiet, decent place, an' he'll have a better soon." + +After Cherry and Roosevelt and Water streets, Madison street seems +another Fifth Avenue. The old New Yorker knows it as the once stately +and decorous abode of old Dutch families, a few of whom still cling to +the ancient homes, but most of these are now cheap boarding-Pouses and +tenements, while here and there a new genuine tenement-house is +sandwiched between the tiled roofs and dormer-windows which still hold +suggestions of former better days. The more respectable class of +'longshoremen find quarters here, and some of the mission-people, who, +well-to-do enough to seek quieter homes, choose to be as near as +possible to the work waiting for them, and for more like them, in that +nest of evil and outrage and slime, the Fourth Ward. + +Brita's head was bowed on the table as I went in, and Jan's face was +sorrowful as he looked toward her. "It iss not so alvay," he said. "She +hass made it all so good, and now she dinks of Brita, dat vill not see +it, and she say still, 'God iss hard to take her avay.'" + +"How is it, Jan? Did work come all at once?" + +"No, and yet yes. Shall I say it all, my lady?" + +"Surely, Jan, if you have time." + +"It iss de last day I vill be here in my home all day," he began, +drawing one of the children between his knees and holding its hands +fondly. "But see on de vall! It iss dat hass done some vork for me." + +I looked to where he pointed. On the wall, near the small looking-glass, +hung a round cap with hanging fox's tail--such a cap as the half-bloods +of our north-western forests wear, and the peasants of the European +North as well. + +Jan smiled as he saw my puzzled look. "It iss vy I say I vill tell it +all," he went on in his grave, steady voice. "Ven I see dat it iss to +see de North. For, see, it vas not alvays I am in de city. No. It iss +true I am many years in Stockholm, but I am not Swede: I am Finn--yes, +true Finn--and know my own tongue vell, and dat iss vat some Finns vill +nefer do. I haf learn to read Swedish, for I must. Our own tongue iss +not for us, but I learn it, and Brita dere, she know it too. Brita iss +of Helsingfors, and I am of de country far out, but I come dere vid fur, +for I hunt many months each year. Den I know Brita, and ve marry, and I +must stay in de city, and I am strong; and first I am porter, but soon +dey know I read and can be drusted, and it iss china dat I must put in +boxes all day, and I know soon how to touch it so as it nefer break. + +"But dere is not money. My Brita iss born, and little Jan, and I dink +alvay, 'I must haf home vere dey may know more;' and all de days it iss +America dat dey say iss home for all, and much money--so much no man can +be hungry, and vork iss for all. Brita iss ready, and soon ve come, and +all de children glad. Yes, dere are six, and good children dat lofe us, +and I say efery day, 'Oh, my God, but you are so good! and my life lofes +you, for so much good I haf.' Brita too iss happy. She vork hard, but ve +do not care, and ve dink, 'Soon ve can rest a little, for it iss not so +hard dere as here;' and ve sail to America. + +"But, my lady, how iss it it vas all so bad? For vork iss _not_. It iss +true I haf a little in de beginning. It iss three year ago. I know some +English I haf learn in sailing once to England, for de Finns go +eferyvere to sail. I am not helpless so, and I am large and strong, and +soon I go to de many, many china-stores--so many, I say, dat can nefer +be to vant vork--and in one dey take me. But it iss not much money, +dough I dink it so, for it iss alvay de rent--so much, and ve are +strange and dey cheat us. And ven I am troubled most, and dink to ask +for more, den quick it iss dat I haf none. De place iss failed--dat iss +vat iss tell me--and I go home to Brita to say vat shall to do? I could +dig, I vould go far off, but I haf not money; but I say, 'Ven I get +plenty it shall be ve go to vere earth shall gif us to eat, and not +starve us as here.' For soon it iss little to eat, and it iss dat ve +sell clothes and such as ve must. I get vork--a little on de docks. I +unload, and see men dat can steal all day from coffee-bags and much +sugar, and soon time iss come dat ve are hungry, and men say, 'Steal +too. It's hard times, and you _haf_ to steal.' + +"Oh, dere iss one day! It iss here now. My little Jan iss dead, and Carl +so sick, and all dat he must be vidout enough to eat, and my Brita vill +get a dollar and a half a veek to sew--alvays sew and she is pale and +coughs. I pray, 'O God, you know I vill not do wrong, but vat shall I +do? Show me how, for I am afraid.' But it vas all dark. I cannot go +home, for I haf not money. I cannot vork but one, maybe two, times a +veek. And alvays I see my own _hungry_! I dink I could kill myself; but +dat helps not, and I go avay, oh, eferyvere about New York, and beg for +vork. And den eferyvere it iss said, 'He is a _tramp_,' and alvays dey +tell me, 'No, ve gif not to _tramps_. Go to vere you came from.' I say, +'I am not tramps. My children are hungry. Gif me vork: I vant to eat for +dem--not money, but to eat if you vill. Gif me a little vork.' + +"I am dirty: Brita iss not dere to haf me clean. I vash as I can, in +vater anyvere, but I sleep on de ground. I eat not often. I am vild +truly, I know, and soon peoples are afraid. Den, my lady, I haf no more +faith. I say, 'God, you haf forgotten me: you haf forgotten vat you +promise. It may be God iss not anyvere.' So I come back, and I find dat +my little Brita iss sick--so sick she cannot vork--and Brita my vife; +she sew all she can, but it iss not enough. I go on de docks once more. +'No vork! no vork!' It iss de vord eferyvere. And one day, all de day +long, ve haf nothing--no fire, nothing to eat, and dere iss no more +anything to pawn, and I say, 'At last I vill steal, for vat else shall +be to do?' And I go out and down to de dock, for I know a boat going out +in de night, and I say, 'I too vill go.' But I go down Vater street. I +know it not much, for first my home iss on de odder side, but ve are so +poor at last ve are in Cherry street, and den vere you see us first. But +den I am just come, and I go by de mission and hear all sing, and I say, +'I vill stay a minute and listen, for soon nefer again shall I sit vid +any dat sing and pray and haf to do vid God.' So I go in, and listen not +much till soon one man stands up, an' he say, 'Friends, I came first +from prison, and I meant not efer to do more vat vould take me dere +again. But dere iss no vork, even ven I look all day, and I am hungry; +and den I dink to steal again. I vait, because perhaps vork come, but at +night I go out and say, "I know my old ground. Dere's plenty ready to +velcome me if I'm a mind to join 'em." And den, as I go, one says to me, +"Come in here;" and I come in and not care, till I hear many tell vat +dey vere, and I say, "I vill vait a leetle longer: I cannot steal now." +And now vork has come, and if God help me I shall never steal again.' + +"I stood up den. I said loud, 'I haf nefer steal. I belief in God, but +now how shall I? My heart's dearest, dey starve, dey die before me. Dere +iss no vork, dere iss no help. If I steal not, how shall I do?' I vas +crying: I could not see. Then Jerry came. 'You shall nefer starve,' he +said. 'Stay honest, for God _vill_ care for you, and ve'll all pray Him +to keep you so.' + +"And so, when meeting iss done, dey go vid me to see, and dere iss food +and all dey can. Dey are God's angels to me and to mine. + +"But, my lady, you know: you haf seen my little Brita. And efery day I +look at her and see her going avay, so fast, so fast, and my heart +breaks, for she is first of all. And den she iss gone, and still vork is +not. You haf seen us. All de days dey say. 'Dere vill come vork soon,' +but it comes not efer. And one morning I look in de chest to see if one +thing may still be to pawn, and dere iss only my cap dat I keep--not to +vear, no, but only to remember. And I sit, and it iss on my hand, and I +hold de fox's tail, and again I am in Finland, and I see de foxes run on +de ice, and I know vell dis one dat I hold de tail. Den quick I haf a +thought. I look for a stick all about: dere iss but a little one for de +fire, and no knife, but I get a knife from a man dat iss at de odder +room, and I cut it and tie it. I vill not tell Brita vat I do, but soon +I haf de tail vid a handle, and I put it inside my coat, and go to a +store vere iss a man I haf seen dat vill make many things, and money +sometimes. + +"'Ha, Jan,' he said ven I show it, 'dis _iss_ a notion! I'll gif you ten +dollar for dat notion.' + +"'No,' I say. 'If you say ten dollar I know it vorth more, for I know +vat you can do. But let it be more, and I may sell it.' + +"Den he talk. Dere is risk, he say, and he must spend much money, but he +say it vill _take_. Oh, I know dat vord, and ven he has talked so much +at last he say he vill write a paper and gif me one hundred dollar, and +make me a foreman ven he shall make dem. For he says, 'It iss vat all +ladies vill vant--so soft to make clean in de beautiful cabinets, and de +china on de vall so as dey hang it in great houses. Vid its handle for +stiffness, den de soft tail vill go eferyvere and nefer break. It iss a +duster, and best of all duster too, for nothing can efer break.' + +"So now he hass rooms--dree rooms--and many people are to take dem, and +to-morrow I go to show how one must hold all de tails, and dere is vork, +all I can do; and ven money iss come I dink to go avay, but not soon, +for I must help some dat haf no help. But oh, I dink of de little ones, +and of Brita dat iss gone; and de moder she cannot haf rest, for all day +she say, 'Vy must it be dey are gone, ven now iss plenty?'--'My God, it +iss your vill. And not fery long, and you vill make us a home vid her.' +It iss all right, my lady." + +Jan lingers still in his last quarters. The mission holds him fast, and +his grave, steady face is known to many a poor wretch just out of +prison--many a tramp who has returned despairing of work and been helped +to it by this man, himself a workman, but with a sympathy never failing +for any sad soul struggling toward a better life or lost in the despair +of waiting. Their name is legion, and their rescue must come from just +such workers--men who have suffered and know its meaning. Men of this +stamp hold the key to a regeneration of the masses, such as organized +charities are powerless to effect; and already some who believe in this +fact are seeking to make their work easier and to give the substantial +aid that it demands. The poor are the best missionaries to the poor, and +he who has gone hungry, suffered every pang of poverty and known +sharpest temptation to sin can best speak words that will save men and +women entering on the same path. + +To this end Jan lives--as truly a priest to the people as if hands laid +upon him had consecrated him to the work, but all unconscious what power +it holds to the on-lookers, and only sure of the one word, the mission +watchword--"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, +ye have done it unto Me." + + HELEN CAMPBELL. + + + + +UNDER THE GRASSES. + + + What do you hide, O grasses! say, + Among your tangles green and high? + "Warm-hearted violets for May, + And rocking daisies for July." + + What burden do you keep beneath + Your knotted green, that none may see? + "The prophecy of life and death, + A hint, a touch, a mystery." + + What hope and passion should I find + If I should pierce your meshes through? + "A clover blossoming in the wind, + A wandering harebell budded blue." + + DORA READ GOODALE. + + + + +"KITTY." + + +The Idler was hopelessly becalmed off Thomas's Point. Not a ripple could +be seen down the Chesapeake, and the locusts and pines along the shore +were shuddering uncomfortably with the heat of a July afternoon, hidden +halfway to their tops in the summer haze. What was to be done? Five +miles from home in a large sloop yacht filled with strangers from the +North, the crew left behind to be out of the way, and every one +thoroughly convinced that his neighbor was horribly bored! + +Thornton gave the tiller a vicious shove, as if that would wake the +yacht up, and glared forward along the row of parasols protecting fair +faces from the sun and of hats cocked over noses that were screwed up +with feelings too deep for words, and more intense than those produced +by heat, he thought. By five o'clock we had sung every song that ever +was written, and flirtations were becoming desperate. Mollie Brogden, +comfortably lodged against the mast, was dropping her blue parasol lower +and lower over one of the New York men as their conversation grew more +and more intense with the heat, and Mrs. Brogden was becoming really +alarmed. + +The situation was maddening! Nothing on board to eat; soft-shell crabs +and the best bill of fare of a Southern kitchen ordered at home for +seven o'clock; a couple of fiddlers coming from "the Swamp" at nine; and +Cousin Susan, the cook, even then promising little Stump Neal "all de +bonyclaba he cu'd stow ef he'd jest friz dis yar cream fo' de new +missis." + +"It is too provoking for anything!" the new missis whispered to +Thornton, as he stopped by his wife's side for an instant and moved on +to consult with some of the married men who were smoking in luxuriant +carelessness forward. Very little consolation he got there. Ellis from +Annapolis said he had known calms last two days, and sundry forcible +remarks were made when it was discovered that the last cigars were then +in our mouths. This was the last straw. Thornton felt furious with every +one, and muttered dark wishes that ante-war power might be restored to +him over the person of Uncle Brian when we got home--if we ever did--as +he reflected that that ancient African had guaranteed a breeze. + +Mollie Brogden smiled lazily at him as Donaldson fanned her slowly, and +waited until Thornton should pass, so that the talk which was leading up +to the inscription of a clever piece of poetry on her fan might be +continued. + +"By the way, Donaldson," as a sudden inspiration seemed to strike +Thornton, "did you ever hear anything more of Kitty after I left you at +Christmas?" + +The sweetness of that piece of poetry on the fan was never revealed. The +blue parasol went up with a jump, and a look assured Donaldson that +certain words had better have been left unsaid that afternoon if "Kitty" +should not be satisfactorily explained. I felt sorry for him, for every +one caught at the idea of something new, and the thought of an +explanation to the whole of that boatload, keen for all sorts of +badinage, would have tempted me overboard, I am sure. However, Donaldson +smiled very composedly, and said he believed the family were still in +Texas, although he had heard nothing more than Thornton already knew of +their history. + +Well, that simply made matters worse: Texas and Kitty were suggestive +enough for anything, and I caught a whisper from Miss Brogden that +seemed to imply that she doubted whether he had really been so +inconsolable for last summer's diversions as he had tried to make her +believe. That settled him, for I knew he had come down to Thornton's +expressly to see her, and he assured us it was a very small story, but +if we cared to hear it perhaps the breeze would come meanwhile, and he +would try to give the facts exactly as they had come to his knowledge. + +"We were a few hours out from Liverpool," he began, "and the +smoking-room of the Russia was pretty well filled with all sorts of men, +none of whom of course felt much at home yet, but who were gradually +being shaken together by the civilizing influence of tobacco and the +occasional lurches that the cross-chop of the Channel was favoring us +with. I was sitting near the door with a man from Boston whom I found on +board returning from a wedding-trip, and who, I discovered, had taken +orders since leaving Harvard, where I had known him slightly as a +bookish sort of fellow and not very agreeable; but as I was alone and +his wife was quite pretty, I was glad to meet him. + +"Well, we were running over old times, without paying much attention to +the guide-book talk that was being poured out round us, when somebody +laid a hand on my shoulder and one of the most attractive voices I ever +heard asked 'if there was room for a stranger from Texas?' This formal +announcement of himself by a newcomer made a little lull in the +conversation, but my friend made room for him in our corner, and he +quietly enveloped himself in smoke for the rest of the evening. + +"He was not inattentive, though, to the drift of our talk, for when +Hamilton mentioned having been at the Pan-Anglican, and spoke of the +effect such conventions should produce, the Texan's cigar came out of +his mouth and his blue eyes grew deeper in their sockets as he +interrupted us with the remark: 'The conventions of all the Bible-men in +the world would not have made La Junta any better if it had not been for +Kitty. You know what Junta was before she came?' he continued, seeing us +look a little surprised--'nothing but cards and drink, and--worse; and +now'--and he laid his hand on his hip as if from habit--'now we have no +trouble there any more.' + +"The oddness of the expression 'Bible-men,' I remember, struck me at the +time, but Hamilton made some explanatory reply, for the quiet force of +the soft voice had a certain persuasiveness about it without the aid of +his gesture, although the smoke was so thick that we could not see +whether he carried the instruments of his country or not. + +"Standing by the aft wheel-house, I found the Texan the next morning +throwing biscuits to the gulls and gazing wistfully seaward. + +"'Your first visit to Europe?' I said, steadying myself by the rail. + +"'Yes, but I would give all last year's herd if I had never come, for +Kitty is ill. I have travelled night and day since the telegram reached +me, but La Junta is so far away I am afraid I shall be too late.' + +"I wish I could give you an idea of his manner: it was more like that of +a person who had just learned the language and was afraid of making +mistakes, so hesitated before each word, giving every syllable its full +value. He explained this simply enough afterward--that Kitty had broken +him of swearing by making him think before he spoke." + +"But you haven't told us who Kitty was," interrupted the blue parasol. +"Was she light or dark?"--"his wife?"--"he wouldn't have dared!"--"a +Texan wife?" and Mrs. Brogden looked very grave at the possibilities the +flying questions aroused. + +"No, she wasn't his wife; only the Yankee schoolmistress of La Junta. I +never saw her. She must have been an angel, though, from his +description; so I will leave the details for your acquaintance +hereafter, Miss Brogden;" which outrageous flattery was received with +contemptuous silence. + +"She lived at Junta, and would canter over on Saturdays to Trocalara, +the Texan's ranch, to teach his herdsmen's families. His partner, +Parker, and he had a large cattle-ranch not far from the Mexican +frontier, and Kitty could not have lived on a bed of roses, I fancy. +Raids, stampedes and other border pleasantries were constantly +occurring. I remember we thought him too gentle at first to have really +hailed from the Plains; but one night, when Hamilton remonstrated with a +man who, I believe, had allowed himself to get in that state described +by the sailors as 'three sheets in the wind, and the fourth fluttering,' +and was met with rather an uncivil reply, the Texan shut the offender up +like a jack-knife with his heavy grip and the intimation that 'he +proposed to settle the Bible-man's scores.' + +"He grew quite intimate with Hamilton and me, and proved a delightful +companion. He would quote readily from many of the later poets, and knew +whole pages of Milton and Shakespeare by heart. Kitty had taught him +these, he said, after she married Parker and came to live with him. + +"'She made us read history-books first,' he said--'many, many +volumes--but we soon got to like them better than anything else. The +poetry _she_ read to us; and so we never went to the shows in Junta +after she came. Kitty has a good husband, as fine a fellow as ever +lassoed a steer, but she is too pure for Junta. Parker loves her, and I +love her too, but both of us do not make up for her Eastern comforts. +And so last year, as we made a good herd and there were no raids to +speak of, I came to New York to get a few luxuries for her. She wrote me +then to go to Paris and see the Exposition; so I went because I thought +she knew best, and that if I had seen the world a little I should be +nearer to her, and it would not be quite so hard for her out there. And +now she is ill, and--I am here!' + +"He turned impatiently away to ask the quartermaster what we were doing +by the last log. The speed appeared to satisfy him, for he sat quietly +down again and told us how it was that Kitty had come to live with them. + +"'For two years, you know'--assuming that we did know--'she spent +Saturdays at Trocalara, teaching our people how to read and write. They +were very rough at first--we all are out there--and did not care much; +but she interested them, and brought picture-books for the little ones, +and by and by she said she would come out on Sunday and we should have +church!' with a triumphant look at Hamilton and his Pan-Anglican +attendance. 'Yes, we had had a priest there before, but he was shot in a +row at Bowler's Paradise, and no one cared to apply for a new one. + +"'Kitty came up to the ranch the first Sunday, and asked us to come with +her. We refused at first, but after a while, when we heard the singing, +we went down to the quarters, and found her sitting under one of the +trees with all the young ones clustered round her; and we waited there +and listened until we began to feel very sorry that we had played so +late at Bowler's the night before. + +"'But Parker had been in luck, and he swore he would get her as fine a +piano as could be brought from the States (he was a half-Mexican by +birth) if she would sing like that for us at the ranch. + +"'She stood up then, with all the young ones looking on in amazement, +the light and shade playing over her through the cool, dark leaves, and, +turning her large gray eyes full on Parker's face, said she would if we +would promise never to go to Bowler's again. + +"'I think Parker expected her to refuse to come altogether, because we +had no women there, and we had heard the people in Junta talking of her +quiet, modest ways. But no, she never thought of herself: she only +thought of the nights at Bowler's, and wanted to save us from the end +she had seen often enough in two years in Junta. At any rate, the piano +came, and Parker had it sent as a sort of halfway measure to her house +in Junta, where she and her mother lived, and we were as welcome as the +light there always. + +"'You have no idea of her music. They told me at concerts in Paris that +I was hearing the finest musicians in Europe, but they were not like +Kitty. They played for our money--Kitty played for our pleasure: it +makes so much difference,' he added as his fingers drummed an +accompaniment to the air he whistled. + +"'One night Parker and I were sitting in a corner at Bowler's when we +heard a Greaser--a Mexican, you know--that Parker had refused to play +poker with the night before ask who the senorita was that had taken the +spirit out of Parker. + +"'We both started forward instantly, but as the man was evidently +ignorant of our presence, Parker checked me with a fierce look in his +eyes that showed that the spirit of his former days would be very apt to +put a different ending on the conversation if it continued in that tone. + +"'"Kitty," came the reply, as if that settled the matter. + +"'"Kitty? Ah, your American names are so strange! Kitty! But she is +beautiful, is this Kitty! I met her in the Gulch road this afternoon +this side of Trocalara. Caramba! how she can ride! The Parker has good +taste: I drink to my future acquaintance with her." + +"'As he raised the glass to his lips Parker stood behind his chair and +whispered, "If you drink that liquor, by God it will be the last drop +that shall ever pass your lips!" + +"'The next morning they sold the Mexican's horse and traps to pay for +burying him and for the damage done, and Parker lay in bed at Kitty's +with that in his side you would not have cared to see. + +"'Kitty never knew why he fought, and never even looked a reproach. It +was not much--I had seen him cut much worse in the stockyard at +home--but somehow he did not get well. The weeks slipped by, and each +time I called Kitty would say he was a little better, and a little +better, and oh yes, he would be back next week; but next week came so +often without Parker that at last, when the time came for changing +pastures, I went with the herd and left him still at Junta. + +"'I would willingly have taken his place, look you, if I had known the +result, but perhaps the other way was the best, after all; for now Kitty +has two men to serve her,' he added meditatively. + +"'When I got back to Junta in October, Parker was quite recovered, I +found out at the ranch, but was in town that evening, so I went quietly +into Kitty's house to surprise them. As I crossed the hall I heard +Parker's voice. Could I have mistaken the house? was it really his voice +I heard? Yes: he was telling Kitty how he had broken the three-year-old +colt to side-saddle, so when she came to Trocalara she must give up her +old pony. I knew then why Kitty had kept him there so long: he had lost +his reason and she wished to keep me from knowing it! + +"'But no. I stood still and listened, and heard him tell her how he had +always loved her, apparently going over an old story to her. My God! I +would as soon have told the Virgin I loved her! And then I heard her +voice. "When I am your wife--" she began. + +"'It all flashed on me in an instant then. I slipped noiselessly out, +and if they heard "Odd Trick's" gallop on the turf it was not because +his hoofs lingered too long there. + +"'I can't remember how I passed that night. The revelation had been so +sudden that the words seemed to be written in my heart and to be carried +through every vein with each beat. "When I am your wife--" What would +the result be? _Our_ Kitty was to be his wife? Could I still stay at the +ranch? "When I am your wife--" and I loved her! + +"'The next day I went into Junta and saw them both. I told Parker how +the herd stood, and how the shooting had been in the mountains, but I +never had the courage to look at her. + +"'After a while she went to the piano and played "Home:" then she came +and sat down by me and said, "I have told Parker I will go home with +him: I will try to be a sister to you." + +"'I believe I only stared at her, and then wrung Parker's hand and went +out. + +"'He married her the next month, and--and--Trocalara has been heaven +ever since. + +"'I never knew what a Christian was before she came: you know we have no +faith in Texas in things we can't draw a bead on. But when she read me +the story of the Scribes and Pharisees and Christ I felt ashamed to be +like those Flat-heads and Greasers in the New Testament who did not +believe in him; and now I feel sure of knowing some one in heaven, for +Kitty has promised to find me there.' + +"I forget a great many of the incidents he told us," Donaldson went on +in the quiet that was almost equal to the calm around us; "and I dare +say it would bore you to listen. But he certainly was the most +extraordinary man I ever met. I can't do justice to his expressions, for +they lack his soft voice and curious hesitation. I wish we had him here, +though." + +"Did you never hear of him again?" some one asked. + +"Yes. When we reached New York I found him standing in his old place by +the aft wheel-house in a dazed sort of way, with apparently no intention +of going ashore; so I asked him what hotel he intended to stop at. His +only answer was to hand me a letter dated some days before: + + + "'JUNTA, Texas. + + "'Kitty died last night. It is a boy, and is named after + you--her last wish. + + "'PARKER.' + + + +That was all the letter said, but as I looked at his white face and +burning eyes I saw it was what he had feared. + +"As I bade him good-night at the hotel that evening he asked me, 'Do you +really feel sure that I could find her--there?' + +"'Yes: she said so, did she not?' I replied. + +"'I will try,' he said simply. + +"The next morning they found him with a bullet-hole in his temple. He +had gone to find Kitty." + + * * * * * + +"Heads!" said Thornton as the boom swung over and the swirl from the +Idler's bow told us the wind had come. As I changed my place I caught +Miss Brogden's eye, and felt satisfied that Donaldson was forgiven. + + LAWRENCE BUCKLEY. + + + + +A GREAT SINGER. + + +There are so few of them! The next generation will hardly understand how +great were some of the lately-vanished kings and queens of the lyric +drama. We who have passed middle age, who have heard Lablache, and +Tamberlik, and Jenny Lind, and Viardot Garcia, and Alboni, and Giuglini +in their prime, and Grisi, Mario, Sontag and Persiani with voices but a +little the worse for wear, can sadly contrast the vocal glories of the +past with those of the present. Who are the great singers of to-day? Two +or three _prime donne_ and as many baritones. There is not a single +basso living to suggest Lablache, not a tenor to revive the triumphs of +Rubini, Mario, Giuglini or the subject of the present article. + +Gustave Roger, the celebrated French tenor, who so long reigned a king +at the Grand Opera of Paris, was a born Parisian. He was of gentle +blood, his uncle being Baron Roger, who was a member of the Chamber of +Deputies in the days of Louis Philippe. He was born in 1815, and was +originally destined for the legal profession. But the boy's destiny was +the stage. It is on record that, being sent to a provincial town where +there was no theatre to complete his studies, he got up a representation +on his own account, playing the principal _roles_ in three comedies. The +notary in whose office he had been placed was present on the occasion, +and warmly applauded the young actor, but the next day sent his +refractory pupil back to Paris. Finally, Roger's relatives decided that +his vocation for the stage was stronger than their powers of combating +it, and they placed him at the Conservatoire. He remained there for one +year only, at the end of which time he carried off two first prizes--one +for singing and the other for declamation. + +And here a curious fact must be remarked. Side by side with the great +lyric or dramatic celebrities that have won their first renown at the +_concours_ of the Conservatoire there is always some other pupil of +immense promise, who does as well as, if not better than, the future +star at the moment of the competition, but who afterward disappears into +the mists of mediocrity or of oblivion. Thus, in the year in which the +elder Coquelin obtained his prize the public loudly protested against +the award of the jury, declaring that the most gifted pupil of the class +was a certain M. Malard, who now holds a third-rate position on the +boards of the Gymnase. When Delaunay, the accomplished leading actor of +the Comedie Francaise, left the Conservatoire, it was with a second +prize only: the first was carried off by M. Blaisot, who now plays the +"second old men" at the Gymnase. So with Roger as first prize was +associated one Flavio Ping, a tall, handsome young man with a superb +voice. So far as physical advantages were concerned, he was better +fitted for a theatrical career than was the future creator of John of +Leyden, as Roger was not tall and had a tendency to embonpoint. M. Ping, +however, went to Italy, accepted engagements at the opera-houses of +Rome, Naples and Milan, sang there with success for a few years, lost +his voice, and finally disappeared. + +In 1838, Roger made his debut at the Opera Comique in _L'Eclair_, by +Auber. His success was immediate and complete. He remained at that +theatre for some years, his favorite character being George Brown in _La +Dame Blanche_. But his greatest triumphs at this period were those which +awaited him in the great opera-houses of London, where he sang the +leading tenor roles in the operas of Bellini and Donizetti. In his +recently-published diary he gives some interesting details respecting +Jenny Lind, then at the height of her fame and the very zenith of her +powers. His first impression, after hearing her in _Norma_, was one of +disappointment. It was in June, 1847. The great tenor thus records his +impressions of the great prima donna: "She is well enough in Casta +Diva--that invocation to the moon suits her dreamy Teutonic nature--but +the fury of the loving woman, the deserted mother--No, no! a thousand +times no!" But the next season he goes to hear her in _Lucia_, and at +once the verdict is reversed. "She is one of the greatest artists it has +ever been my lot to hear," he writes. "Her voice, though charming in the +upper notes, is unfortunately a little weak in the middle register; but +what intelligence and invention! She imitates no one, she studies +unceasingly, both the dramatic situation and the musical phrase, and her +ornamentation is of a novelty and elegance that reconcile me to that +style of execution. I do not love roulades, I must confess, though I may +learn to do so later. Jenny Lind does one thing admirably: during the +malediction, instead of clinging to her lover as all the other Lucias +never fail to do till the act is ended, as soon as Edgar throws her from +him she remains motionless: she is a statue. A livid smile contracts her +features, her haggard eyes are fixed on the table where she signed the +fatal contract, and when the curtain falls one sees that madness has +already seized upon her." + +During this season in London, Roger, while singing at the Ancient +Concerts, saw in the audience one evening the duke of Wellington, and +thus writes of the event: "I had Wellington before me. I heard the voice +that commanded the troops at Waterloo. I looked into the eyes that saw +the back of the emperor. I cannot express the rage that seized upon me +at beholding him. To sing to and give pleasure to that man whom I would +fain annihilate!--him, and his past, and his country! As a Frenchman I +hate him, but I am forced also to admire him." + +The next year Roger, while fulfilling an engagement in London, was +requested to sing at a garden-fete given, under the patronage of the +queen, at Fulham, for the benefit of the poor. After the concert Roger, +leaning against an acacia, was watching the departure of the royal +carriages. "Lavandy came to me," he writes, "and said in a whisper, 'Do +you know who is at the other side of this tree?' + +"'No.' + +"I turned round, and saw a man with an aquiline nose and blue eyes, +whose deep yet gloomy gaze was fixed upon the splendors of royalty. 'Who +is it?' I asked of Lavandy. + +"'Louis Bonaparte.' + +"He had just been elected member of the Chamber of Deputies. As his name +appeared to be dangerous, he had been requested to take a vacation, and +he had returned to London, where he had formerly lived. I am glad that I +saw him: he may be somebody some day." + +It was in April of the previous year (1847) that Roger went to a +concert, where he records how he heard a comic opera called _The +Alcove_, by Offenbach and Deforges: "A little inexperience, but some +charming things. Offenbach is a fellow who will go far if the doors of +the Opera Comique are not closed against him: he has the gift of melody +and the perseverance of a demon." It is rather curious to note, in +connection with this prophecy, that the doors of the Opera Comique, +which were closed against Offenbach after the failure of his _Vert-Vert_ +some years before the war, are to be reopened to him next season, his +_Contes de Hoffman_ having proved the "Open, sesame!" to those +long-barred portals. + +But to return to Roger's reminiscences of Jenny Lind, which are, after +all, the most interesting for music-loving readers. We find him writing +in July, 1848: "I have again been to see Jenny Lind in _Lucia_. She is +indeed a great, a sublime artist, in whom are united inspiration and +industry." + +It was during this season that he concluded an engagement with the +English impresario Mitchell to become the tenor of the travelling +opera-troupe in which Jenny Lind was to be the prima donna, and which +was to undertake a tour through Scotland, Ireland and the provincial +towns of England. "I am delighted," he writes: "I shall now be able to +study near at hand this singular woman, whom Paris has never possessed, +but whose reputation, fostered at first in Germany under the auspices of +Meyerbeer, has attained in England such proportions that upon her +arrival in a certain city the bells were rung and the archbishop went +out to meet her and to invite her to his house. She is a noble-hearted +creature, and her munificence is royal: she founds hospitals and +colleges. In her blue eyes glows the flame of genius. Deprived of her +voice, she would still be a remarkable woman. Believing in herself, she +is full of daring, and achieves great things because she never troubles +herself about the critics. She lives the life of a saint: one would say +that she imagines herself sent by God to make the happiness of humanity +by the religion of art. Thus she remains cold and chaste in private +life, never permitting her heart to become inflamed by the ardent +passions wherewith she glows upon the stage. She told me that she could +never comprehend the lapse from virtue of Mademoiselle R----, a woman of +such lofty talent: 'To fail thus in what was due to one's self!'" + +It is pleasing to note how Roger's admiration for this great artist +extinguishes all the usual petty jealousy of a fellow-singer. He writes +thus frankly respecting a concert which they gave during their tour at +Birmingham: "It was a brilliant success, but the final triumph was borne +off by Jenny Lind, who fairly carried the audience away with her Swedish +melodies, the effect of which is really remarkable. She has a strength +of voice in the upper notes that is vast and surprising: without +screaming she produces echoes, the loud and soft notes being almost +simultaneous. In the artist's green-room she is kind and courteous +without being either mirthful or expansive. Moreover, she is +indefatigable, which is a precious quality for the manager. She never +stays at the same hotel with the rest of the troupe, which is a rather +imperial proceeding; but it is better so: we are more at our ease. She +lives her own concentrated life like some old wine that never sees the +light excepting on great occasions. I have at last found in Jenny Lind a +partner who understands me. On the stage she becomes animated; her hands +clasp mine with energy, and the thrill of dramatic fervor possesses her +whole being: she becomes thoroughly identified with her part, and yet +she never permits herself to be so carried away as to cease to be +entirely mistress of her voice." + +Roger gives us some brief glimpses of Jenny Lind in private life--her +love of dancing, of which she seems to have been as passionately fond as +was Fanny Kemble in her youth, and her delight in horseback riding. He +gives a comical account of an improvised ball, in which he figured as +the prima donna's partner, on board of the steamboat going from Dublin +to Holyhead: "Unfortunately, our orchestra fell off one by one; the +music finally ceased; and when we stopped waltzing and cast an uneasy +glance around us, we beheld all our musicians, their chests pressed +against the railings, their arms extended toward the ocean, in the +pitiable attitude of Punch when knocked down by the policeman." Some +days later, during a performance of _La Fille du Regiment_ at Brighton, +in the last act, while the orchestra was playing the prelude to the +final rondo, "Jenny Lind said to me in a whisper, 'Listen well to this +song, Roger, for these are the last notes of mine that you will hear in +any theatre.'" + +The next day a farewell ball, to which a supper succeeded, was given by +the manager at the Bedford Hotel to celebrate the conclusion and +brilliant success of the tour: "That dear Jenny drew from her finger a +ring set with a diamond of the finest water, and presented it to me with +the words, 'May every sparkle of this stone, Roger, recall to you one of +my wishes for your happiness!' In this phrase there was all the woman +and a tinge of the Swede." + +The next day he takes a final ride with the prima donna and Madame +Lablache. "I was very sad," he writes: "the idea of ending this happy +day has spoiled my pleasure. How well she looks on horseback, with her +great blue eyes and her loosened fair hair! And why does she quit the +stage? Is she tired of doing good? As long as she has been an artist she +has lived the life of a saint. They tell me of a bishop who has put +certain scruples into her head. May Heaven be his judge! + +"I know that in Paris people say, 'Why does she not come here to +consecrate her reputation? She is afraid, doubtless, of comparisons and +recollections.' No, no! she has nothing to fear. She preserves in her +heart of hearts, doubtless, some resentment for the indifference--to +call it no more--wherewith the last manager of the Opera received her +advances for a hearing when her fresh young talent had just left the +hands of Manuel Garcia. But since then Meyerbeer has composed operas for +her; Germany, Sweden, England have set the seal upon her reputation: we +can add nothing to it. As to homage, what could we give her? Wherever +she goes, as soon as she arrives in a city its chief personages hasten +to meet her; when she leaves the theatre five or six hundred persons +await her exit with lighted torches; every leaf that falls from her +laurel-wreaths is quarrelled over; crowds escort her to her hotel; and +serenades are organized under her windows. At Paris, when once the +curtain falls the emotion is over, the artist no longer exists. A +serenade! Who ever saw such a thing outside of the _Barber of Seville?_ +It is in bad taste to do anything singular. As to escorting a prima +donna home, Malibran could find her way alone very well." + +Roger returned to Paris, recording as he did so the fact that he was by +no means overjoyed at finding himself at home: "And why? I cannot tell. +Perhaps I regret the life of excitement, those great theatres, the +audiences that changed every day, the struggle of the singer with new +_partitions_, the boundless admiration I experienced for that strange +being, that compound of goodness and coldness, of egotism and +benevolence, whom one might not perhaps love, but whom it is impossible +to forget." + +The next prominent event in the great tenor's career was his creation of +the character of John of Leyden in Meyerbeer's _Prophete_. There is +something very charming in the naive delight and enthusiasm with which +he speaks of this, the crowning glory of his life. Contrary to the usual +theory respecting the production of a great dramatic effect, he declares +that the grand scene between the prophet and Fides in the third act, +where John of Leyden, by the sheer force of intonation of voice and play +of feature, forces his mother to retract her recognition of him and to +fall at his feet, was created, so to speak, by Madame Viardot and +himself on the inspiration of the moment and without any preliminary +conference or arrangement. How wonderful this fine dramatic situation +appeared when interpreted by these two great artists, I, who had the +delight of seeing them both, can well remember. To this day it forms one +of the great traditions of the French lyric stage. + +In the month of July, 1859, just ten years after that crowning triumph, +Roger one day, being then at his country-seat, took his gun and went out +to shoot pheasants: an hour later he was brought I back to the house +with his right arm horribly shattered by the accidental discharge of his +gun. His first action after having the wound dressed was to sing. "My +voice is all right," he remarked to his wife: "there is no harm done." +Unfortunately, the bones were so shattered that amputation was judged +necessary. That accident brought Roger's operatic career to a close. +Notwithstanding the perfection of the mechanical arm that replaced the +missing limb, he was oppressed by the consciousness of a physical +defect. He imagined that the public ridiculed him, and that the critics +only spared him out of pity. He retired from the stage, and devoted +himself to teaching, his amiable character and great artistic renown +gaining him hosts of pupils. In the autumn of 1879 the kindly, blameless +life came to a close. + +A devoted husband, a generous and unselfish comrade in his profession +even to his immediate rivals, and a true and faithful friend, he left +behind him a record that shows a singular blending of simple domestic +virtues with great artistic qualities, the union adorning a theatrical +career which was one series of dazzling triumphs. + + LUCY H. HOOPER. + + + + +OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + + +CONSERVATORY LIFE IN BOSTON. + +Our aspiring young friend from the rural districts who comes to Boston, +the great musical centre, for the art-training she cannot enjoy at home, +is full of enthusiasm as she crosses the threshold of that teeming hive, +the New England Conservatory of Music. The conflicting din of organs, +pianos and violins, of ballad, scale and operetta, though discordant to +the actual ear have a harmony which is not lost to her spiritual sense. +It is a choral greeting to the new recruit, who gathers in a moment all +the moral support humanity derives from sympathy and companionship in a +common purpose. Devoutly praying that this inspiration may not ooze out +at her fingers' ends, she goes into the director's sanctum to be +examined. This trial has pictured itself to her active imagination for +weeks past. Of course he will ask her to play one of her pieces, perhaps +several. Has she not, ever since her plans for coming to the +Conservatory were matured, been engaged in carefully training, +manipulating, her battle-horse for this critical experiment? As the door +of that little room closes upon her her knees begin to tremble. But how +easy and reassuring is the director's manner! He requests her to be +seated at the piano. Will she be able to remember a note at all? That is +now the question. Her musical memory is for the nonce obliterated. He +may have an intuition of this, for he says quietly, "Now play me a scale +and a five-finger exercise." Cecilia does this mechanically, and feels +encouraged. Now for the piece, the battle-horse, to be brought out and +shown off. She waits quietly a minute. But he asks for nothing more. Her +mere touch expresses to his practised ear her probable grade of +acquirement, and he assigns her to the instructor he deems best suited +to test her abilities and classify her in accordance with them. + +In a day or two she finds herself in regular working order, one of a +class of four. "And am I only to have fifteen minutes for _my_ lesson," +she asks herself, "when I always had an hour from the professor at +Woodville?" She knows that recitation is the cream of the lesson. In the +actual rendering of her task she can, in justice to her companions, +consume but a quarter of the allotted hour, but she soon discovers that +she is to a great extent a participant in Misses A----, B---- and +C----'s cream. After the master's correction of her own performance, to +see and hear the same study played by others with more or less +excellence--to compare their faults with her own--is perhaps of greater +benefit to her, while in this eminently receptive frame, than a mere +personal repetition would be. The horizon is broader: she gets more +light on the work in hand. + +"And now," she asks of her teacher, "how much would you advise, how much +do you wish, me to practise?" + +He smiles: memory reverts to his own six hours at Leipsic or Stuttgart, +but "milk for babes:" "Certainly not less than two hours a day under any +circumstances or obstacles, if you care to learn at all. If you have +fair health, and neither onerous household duties nor educational +demands upon your time outside of music, let me earnestly recommend you +to practise four hours. Less than this cannot show the desired result." + +The new pupil accepts the maximum of four hours' daily practice. "I +should be ashamed to give less," she generously confides to herself and +her room-mate: "it is but a small proportion, after all, of the +twenty-four." + +But this is not all. There are exercises at the Conservatory apart from +her special lessons which are too valuable to a broad musical education +to be neglected--the instruction in harmony, sight reading, the art of +teaching, analyses of compositions, as well as lectures and concerts. +One of the Conservatory exercises strikes her as being alike novel and +edifying. This is called "Questions and Answers." A box in one of the +halls receives anonymous questions from the pupils from day to day, and +once a week a professor of the requisite enlightenment to satisfy the +miscellaneous curiosity of six or seven hundred minds devotes a full +hour to the purpose. These questions are presumed to relate solely to +musical topics, and the custom was instituted for the relief of timid +yet earnest inquirers. A motley crew, however, frequently avail +themselves of the masquerade privilege to steal in uninvited. Cecilia +illustrates these fantastic ramifications of the young idea for the +benefit of friends in the interior. She jots down some of these +questions and their answers in her note-book: + +"How does a polka differ from a schottisch?"--"A schottisch is a lazy +polka. A polka is the worst thing in the world: the next worst is a +schottisch. A schottisch is so lazy, so slow, that a fire would hardly +kindle with it." + +"In preparing to play a piece in public should one practise it up to the +last moment?"--"Try it and see: you will soon decide in the negative. +Lay it aside some time before if you would avoid nervousness." + +"What would you give as a first piano-lesson to a young lady who had +never taken a lesson before?"--"Make her get the piano-stool at exactly +the right height and place: then ensure a good position of her hands +and easy motion of the fingers. Let her practise this for three days." + +"How far advanced ought a person to be in music to begin to +teach?"--"Teaching involves three things: first, a knowledge of +something on the part of the teacher; second, a corresponding ignorance +on the part of the learner; third, the ability to impart this knowledge. +These conditions fulfilled might sometimes allow a person to begin to +teach with advantage at a very early age and with a very moderate range +of acquirements, though, as every instructor knows, his earlier methods +were very different from his later ones. The difficulty with young +teachers in general is that they try to teach too much at once, like the +young minister who preached all he knew in his first sermon. Never +introduce more than two principles in any one lesson, and as a rule but +one." + +"Is a mazourka as bad as a polka?"--"No. I think it is not morally so +bad as a polka: it has somewhat the grace of the waltz." + +"Who is the best music-teacher in Boston?"--"As there are twenty-five +hundred persons teaching music in and about this city, and seventy-five +regular teachers at this Conservatory alone, both ignorance and delicacy +on my part should forbid a definite reply. It were well to remember +Paris, the apple of discord and the Trojan war." + +"Is Mr. A---- (a young professor at the Conservatory, voted attractive +by the feminine pupils in general) married?"--"This being Leap Year, a +personal investigation of the subject might be more satisfactory and +effectual than a public decision of this point." + +At the expiration of her first term Cecilia realizes that her condition +is one of constant growth: quickening influences are in the air. She +came to Boston to learn music: she is also learning life. She perceives, +moreover, that in her musical progress the aesthetic part of her nature +has not been permitted to keep in advance of technique. Heretofore she +was ever gratifying herself and her friends by undertaking new and more +elaborate pieces, not one of which ever became other than a mere +superficial possession. Now her taste is inexorably commanded to wait +for her muscles: the discipline has been useful to her. After a few more +such winters she will return to Woodville a teacher, herself become a +quickening influence to others. Musical thought will be truer, will find +a more adequate expression, in her vicinity. She will act as a +reflector, sending forth rays of light into dark corners farther than +she can follow them. + +And this is the motive, the mission, of the conservatory system in this +country, inasmuch as organized is more potent than individual effort to +elevate our national taste, to prepare the way for the future artist, +that he may be born under the right conditions, his divine gift fostered +and directed to become worthy of its exalted destiny. Already centuries +old in Europe, the conservatory is a young thing of comparatively +limited experience on our soil. It was introduced here twenty-five years +ago by Eben Tourjee. He had longed and vainly sought for the advantages +to perfect his own talent, and resolved while a mere boy that those of +like tastes who came after him should not have to contend with the +obstacles he had fought--that instruction should be brought within the +reach of all by a college of music similar to those in Europe, embracing +the best elements, attaining the most satisfactory results at the least +possible cost to the student. This project, for a youth without capital, +dependent upon his abilities for his personal support, was regarded even +by sympathetic friends as visionary. But nothing progressive is accepted +as a mere optimistic vision by the predestined reformer. Remote Huguenot +and immediate Yankee ancestry is perhaps a good combination for pioneer +material. However this may be, his efforts were crystallized, shaped, +sooner than most schemes of such magnitude. Continuing his classes in +piano, organ and voice for a year or two with successful energy, Mr. +Tourjee found in 1859 the desired opportunity for his experiment. The +principal of a seminary in East Greenwich, Rhode Island, accorded him +the use of his building, and more students presented themselves +ultimately than could be accommodated on the grounds of the institution. +After a visit to Europe for the purpose of examining the celebrated +German, French and Italian schools, Mr. Tourjee returned, and, fired +with new zeal, started in 1864 a chartered conservatory at Providence. +This proved eminently successful. But Boston was the ideal site: talent +gravitates toward large cities, and Boston's acknowledged "love of the +first rate" would be the best surety for a lofty standard and +approximate fulfilment. In 1867, under a charter from the State, he +finally transplanted his school to this metropolis under the name of the +New England Conservatory of Music, which it retains to the present date. +It has, with characteristic American rapidity, become the largest +music-school in the world, having within fifteen years instructed over +twenty thousand pupils: in a single term it frequently numbers between +eight and nine hundred. It has a connection with Boston University, the +only one in the country where music is placed on the same basis with +other intellectual pursuits, and the faculty numbers some of the most +renowned artists and composers in the land. Eben Tourjee was appointed +dean of the College of Music in the University, with the title of Mus. +Doctor. + +The New England Conservatory deserves this special mention as the parent +school in America, and it has been promptly and ably followed by the +establishment of others in most of our large cities. + + F. D. + + +CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE IN THE WEST OF IRELAND. + +[The following extract from a private letter just received from Ireland +gives a glimpse of the state of affairs in that country which may +interest our readers, as indicating, better than any mere partisan +statements or newspaper reports, the solid grounds that exist for +apprehension in regard to impending disturbances:] + + "I have just returned from a tour in the west of Ireland, and I + wish I could describe the horrors I have seen--such abject + misery and such demoralization as you, no doubt, never came in + contact with in your life. The scenery of Connemara beats + Killarney in beauty and the Rhine in extent and magnificence, + but no tourist could face the hotels: the dirt, the + incompetence, the abominableness of every kind are awful. As + these people were two hundred years ago, so they are + now--ignorant, squalid savages, half naked, living on potatoes + such as a Yankee pig would scorn, speaking only their barbarous + native tongue, lying and thieving through terror and want, with + their children growing up in hopeless squalor. Very few savages + lead such lives, while few people are so oppressed and harassed + by the pains and penalties of civilization. For they are + chin-deep in debt. I saw promissory notes five and six times + renewed, with the landlord, away on the Continent, threatening + eviction. The selfishness of the landlords is too revolting. + They live in England or on the Continent, and confine their + duties in life to giving receipts for their rent. Imagine the + whole product of the land, in a country destitute of + manufactures and commerce, remitted to England, and the utmost + farthing of rent exacted from these wretches, no matter what + the season is, a valuation of fifty shillings, for example, + paying a rent of seven pounds--three hundred per cent.! Some + great catastrophe is imminent. Not a gun is left in the + gunsmiths' shops in Dublin, and I am told that shiploads are + brought in from America weekly. The people are perfectly right + in resisting eviction, but Parliament ought to interpose. We + must get rid of the landlords, and we must establish compulsory + education. Then the priests will go like smoke before the wind. + Free trade is another cause of the troubles. That is one of the + most specious humbugs extant, and has ruined the Irish farmers. + It may be all right in principle, but now and here it is simply + mischievous. Professor ----, who is a member of the new Land + Commission, went round with me in Connemara, and implored me to + write up the state of the district; but before anything can be + published and reach the English ear the autumn rent-day will + have come, and the gale will be at its height." + + +HIGH JINKS ON THE UPPER MISSISSIPPI. + +_To the Editor of Lippincott's Magazine:_ + +It is a remarkable historical fact that the latest visitor to the Upper +Mississippi has always felt it his duty to assail the good faith of +every previous traveller. Beltrami (1823) attacked Pike (1806); +Schoolcraft (1832) fleshed his pen in Beltrami; Allen, who accompanied +Schoolcraft, afterward became his enemy and branded him as a +geographical quack; Nicollet (1836) arraigned both Schoolcraft and Allen +for incompetency; and so on. And now, at this late day, in a mild way +tradition repeats itself. Your great original geographer, Mr. Siegfried, +concluded his two essays on the "High Mississippi" by saying, "Beyond +reasonable doubt our party is the only one that ever pushed its way by +boat up the entire course of the farthermost Mississippi. Beyond any +question ours were the first wooden boats that ever traversed these +waters." Then, after a slap at poor Schoolcraft, he declares that +although I claimed the entire trip in my canoe five years ago, my guide +and others told him that my Dolly Varden never was above Brainerd, and +_that my portages above were frequent_. Except that, by implication, he +questions my veracity, I would not have taken any notice of the feat on +which he prides himself. To the general reader the word "Brainerd" +conveys no idea further than the one which the author adroitly tries to +convey (without saying so), that I did not travel the entire Upper +Mississippi: his use of the word "High" is another trick to cover a very +small job, as I shall hereafter show. But the fact is, that Mr. +Siegfried has discovered a mare's nest. By stating one fact which has +never been disguised, and repeating an allegation which is absolutely +false, he would dispose utterly of the very trip that made his journey +so easy of accomplishment. + +I laid out for myself just one task and no more: I started in May, 1872, +for the sources of the Mississippi, thence to descend the entire river. +After days of inquiry and two trips over the Northern Pacific Railroad, +I decided upon a route to Itasca Lake which no white man had ever +traversed. I made an entirely successful journey, marking out the White +Earth route so clearly that any child could follow it thereafter. What +feat is there to go over ground which I described so explicitly as +follows?--First stage, to White Earth; second stage, to the Twin Lakes; +third stage, across the prairie to the Wild Rice River; fourth stage, up +that stream to the Lake of the Spirit Isle; and fifth stage, of half a +day, by the Ah-she-wa-wa-see-ta-gen portage, to the Mississippi, at a +point twenty-six miles north of Itasca. The same afternoon and the +following day, energetically employed, will suffice to put anybody at +the sources of "the Father of Rivers." Anybody could take a tissue-paper +boat to Itasca after 1872. Had I had a predecessor over this route to +Itasca, as Mr. Siegfried had, and could I have travelled as he did with +a roll of newspaper letters telling me where to stop and when, how to go +and where, I should have been the first to acknowledge my indebtedness +to the man who showed me the way. Why did not Mr. S. take Nicollet's or +Schoolcraft's route, or seek a new one? Simply for the reason that my +itinerary was so clearly laid down that the journey became merely a +Cook's excursion. I had built and took with me to Minnesota a paper boat +for the descent of the river, but I have never made any secret of the +fact that I bought another one (a twin in name and fitted with the +appliances of the New York craft) for the tramp of seventy miles through +the wilderness from the railroad to the sources. In this I merely +followed the example frequently set by Mr. MacGregor, who is the father +of canoeing, and the advice of George A. Morrison, government +storekeeper at White Earth, the Hon. Dr. Day, United States Indian +commissioner, and other gentlemen of equal prominence. Neither of these +gentlemen had been over the ground, but they represented the country as +awful in the extreme. I acquainted everybody who asked with my +decision, and, were it desirable to involve others in this matter, could +name fifty persons to whom every detail of this initial stage of my trip +has been explained. Not a particle of accurate information regarding the +road, the number of days required or the distance could be obtained. It +was not possible _then_ to contract for forty-one dollars to be landed +on the Mississippi! Mr. Siegfried might have seen at every +camping-ground and meal-station along the route the blazed trees bearing +the deeply-cut Greek "delta," which seven years' precedence cannot have +effaced. His descriptions and mine are identical throughout: therefore, +he has either not been over the course at all (which I do not insinuate) +or he only proves the accuracy of my reports. He disposes of my fourteen +hundred and seventy-one miles of canoeing on the Mississippi because, +forsooth! I did not make a small part of it in a craft to suit his +liking. He claims that his was the first wooden boat that ever pushed up +to Itasca. This is something that I don't know anything about: several +parties have been there since 1832. What will he do with the claimant of +the first sheet-iron boat? + +Mr. Siegfried's allegation that I made frequent portages is grossly and +maliciously false. That honor belongs to him, as a few facts will show. +In giving the guide as his authority he is most illogical, for in his +first article (on three separate pages) he wholly discredits this same +man. Again, some information: there are five portages above Aitkin, as +follows: first, into the western gulf of Lake Cass, saving six miles; +second, Little Winnipeg Lake into a stream leading to the Ball Club Lake +(missing the great tributary Leech Lake River); third, at White Oak +Point, below the Eagle's Nest Savannah; fourth, Pokegama Falls, a carry +of two hundred yards on the left bank (a necessity); and fifth, a +cut-off above Swan River, saving six miles. This last was the only +portage (except the falls) made by my party, and was availed of to reach +good camping-ground before dark. Indeed, as to portaging I must yield +the palm to my vainglorious successor. Behold his record! He jumped +twenty-six miles in the Ball Club Lake portage, and was still unhappy +because he could not ride from the landing below Pokegama to Aitkin (one +hundred and fifty miles; see p. 288) on the small steamboat that +sometimes runs to the lumber-camp. Reaching Muddy River (now Aitkin), in +the language of a free pass, he boarded "the splendid railway" +for--Minneapolis!--thus again skipping two hundred and forty-four miles +of the river at one bound, and escaping the French Rapids, Little Falls, +Pike, Wautab and Sauk Rapids, while I was foolish enough to paddle down +to Anoka (as near as I cared to go to St. Anthony's Falls). Thence I +portaged to Minnehaha Creek, as he did--another strange +coincidence--whence, by daily stages, I descended to Alton, seven +hundred and seventy-five miles, where I took steamer for St. Louis, New +Orleans, and, finally, New York. Mr. Siegfried, on the contrary, in a +distance of six hundred and ninety-six miles from the sources to St. +Anthony (Nicollet's official measurement; see _U. S. Senate Doc. 237_, +Twenty-sixth Congress, 2d Session, Appendix), jumped exactly two hundred +and sixty miles, or about two-fifths of his whole journey! Some of that +water, too, which he so conveniently escaped is very unpleasant, even +dangerous, especially Pike Rapids, into which I was drawn unawares, and +had to run through at considerable risk to my boat. + + I am, sir, yours, + + J. CHAMBERS, + + _The Crew of the Dolly Varden._ + + PHILADELPHIA, August 21, 1880. + + +FATE OF AN OLD COMPANION OF NAPOLEON III. + +_L'Independant_, published at Boulogne, gives some interesting details +about a personage that played an important role in the history of the +last emperor of the French, and has not had much cause to be proud of +the gratitude of his patron. This personage was the famous tame eagle +that accompanied Prince Louis in his ridiculous expedition to Boulogne, +and which was taught to swoop down upon the head of the pretender--a +glorious omen to those who did not know that the attraction was a piece +of salted pork! This unfortunate eagle was captured at the same time as +his master, but while the latter was shut up at Ham, the eagle was sent +to the slaughter-house at Boulogne, where he lived many years--an +improvement in his fate, says _L'Independant_, since his diet of salt +pork was replaced by one of fresh meat. In 1855, Napoleon III. went to +Boulogne to review the troops destined for the Crimea and to receive the +queen of England. While there some one in his suite spoke to him of this +bird, telling him that it was alive and where it was to be found. But +the emperor refused to see his old companion, or even grant him a +life-pension in the Paris Jardin des Plantes. The old eagle ended his +days in the slaughter-house, and to-day he figures, artistically +_taxidermatized_, in one of the glass cases of the museum of +Boulogne--immortal as his master, despite the reverses of fortune. + + +A NATURAL BAROMETER. + +Everybody has admired the delicate and ingenious work of the spider, +everybody has watched her movements as she spins her wonderful web, but +all do not know that she is the most reliable weather-prophet in the +world. Before a wind-storm she shortens the threads that suspend her +web, and leaves them in this state as long as the weather remains +unsettled. When she lengthens these threads count on fine weather, and +in proportion to their length will be its duration. When a spider rests +inactive it is a sign of rain: if she works during a rain, be sure it +will soon clear up and remain clear for some time. The spider, it is +said, changes her web every twenty-four hours, and the part of the day +she chooses to do this is always significant. If it occurs a little +before sunset, the night will be fine and clear. Hence the old French +proverb: "Araignee du soir, espoir." + + M. H. + + + + +LITERATURE OF THE DAY. + + + L'Art: revue hebdomadaire illustree. Sixieme annee, Tome II. + New York: J. W. Bouton. + +Nowhere but in Paris could the resources, the technical knowledge and +perfect command of all the appliances of bookmaking be found to sustain +such a publication as _L'Art_. In six years it has not abated by one +tittle the perfection with which it first burst upon the world. Its +standard is as high, its subjects are as inexhaustible, as ever. We hear +now and then of a decline in French art: the great artists who carried +it to the high-water mark of modern times have all, or nearly all, +passed away, but there is certainly no sign of a vacuum. The activity of +production is as great as ever, the interest in art as vital. _L'Art_ +draws its material from past as well as present; the work of older +artists is kept alive in its pages by the most perfect reproductions; +and in its special department of black and white there is advancement +rather than decline. The importance of such a publication to the +interests of art throughout the world is incalculable. It absorbs the +best thought and production of the day. Its high standard and breadth of +scope render it impossible for any particular clique to predominate in +its pages, while its independent tone and encouragement of individual +talent make it a powerful counteracting influence to the conventionalism +which forms the chief danger to art in a country where technical rules +have become official laws. In fact, _L'Art_ has constituted itself a +government of the opposition. It has its Prix de Florence for the +education in Italy of promising young sculptors--its galleries in the +Avenue de l'Opera, which are used for the purpose of "independent" +exhibitions or for the display of work by one or another artist. It +examines and reports the progress of art all over the world, rousing the +latent Parisian curiosity as to the achievements of foreign artists, +and, what is of more importance (to us at least), it shows the world +what is being done and said and thought in the art-circles of Paris. The +perusal of its comprehensive index alone will give the reader a clear +outline of the state of art in Russia, Japan, Persia and Algeria, as +well as in the better-known countries. Such a work is not for the +delight of one people alone: it comes home to art-lovers everywhere. + +The principal art-event of last spring was the Demidoff sale. About half +the etchings in the volume before us are reproductions of pictures in +that collection. M. Flameng has forgotten all the perplexities and +intricacies of the nineteenth century to render the placid graciousness +of a beauty whose portrait was painted in the eighteenth by Drouais. M. +Trimolet has etched in a Dutch manner a landscape of Hobbema in the +Louvre, but M. Gaucherel translates a Ruysdael from the Demidoff +collection into an exquisite delicacy and airiness of line which is the +language of etching in its most modern expression. A Demidoff Rembrandt, +a Lucrezia, reproduced by the needle of M. Koepping, is an example of +the naivete of an art which gave itself no thought for archaeology. +Lucrezia is a simple Dutch maiden in the full-sleeved, straight-bodied +Flemish costume. Her innocent, childish face tells of real grief, but +not of a tragic history. It is interesting to compare the type with that +of Raphael's Lucrezia, with its clinging classic drapery and countenance +moulded on that of a tragic mask. + +The most striking etching in this volume is that of M. Edm. Ramus, after +a portrait in this year's Salon. The name of the painter, Van der Bos, +is Flemish, but if his picture had any qualities not distinctively +French the genius of the etcher has swept them away. The conception, the +character, the pose would all pass for a work of the most advanced +French school. Its qualities belong to Paris and to-day. A young woman +of a somewhat hard, positive type, neither beautiful nor intellectual, +but _chic_ to her finger-tips, jauntily dressed--hat with curling +feathers, elbow sleeves, long gloves--standing in an erect and +completely unaffected attitude,--that is the subject. The execution is +simply superb. Every line is strong and effective: the modelling, the +poise of the figure and the breadth of the shadows in dry point, are +masterly. The Salon articles, five in number, are from the pen of M. Ph. +Burty, the most radical, incisive and original writer on the +staff--champion of the Impressionists, bitter enemy of the Academics and +warm admirer of any fresh, sincere and individual talent. In his short +review of the work of American artists in the Salon his sympathies are +frankly with those who have ranged themselves under unofficial +leadership in their adopted city. He has warm eulogy both for Mr. +Sargent and Mr. Picknell, refusing to believe that the excellence of the +latter is due in any way to his instruction at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. +M. Burty concludes the notice of American pictures with a "Hurrah pour +la jeune ecole Americaine! hurrah!" which will be gratefully responded +to by those of us who are proud of our growing school. + +The "Silhouettes d'Artistes contemporains" are continued in two papers +on De Nittis, accompanied by some exquisite reproductions of etchings by +that artist; and there are a couple of articles of great interest by M. +Veron on Ribot, illustrated by fac-similes of the powerful work of one +whom M. Veron unhesitatingly ranks among the greatest names in modern +French art. There is both literary and artistic interest in the +engravings after pen-and-ink sketches made by Victor Hugo, showing that +the poet is able to throw his personality and wonderful imagination into +an art which he did not practise till pretty late in life, and then +simply as a recreation and without attempting to master its technique. +Victor Hugo is stamped as plainly upon these drawings--made, not by line +and rule, but by following up the ideas suggested by the direction of a +blot of ink--as on the pages of his most deliberate works. In offering +homage to the poet _L'Art_ does not depart from its line, which embraces +art in its manifold forms. The newest products of the stage are +discussed as well as those of the studios, and contemporary literature +is reflected in more ways than one in its pages. + + + Mrs. Beauchamp Brown. (Second No-Name Series.) Boston: Roberts + Brothers. + +Were this story as good as its name or half as good as some of the +undeniably clever things it contains, it might be accepted as a very +fair book of its kind. It was written with the evident intention of +saying brilliant and witty things; but this brilliance and wit sometimes +miss their effect, as, for instance, on the very first page, where Dick +Steele's famous compliment is bestowed upon Lady Mary Wortley Montagu +instead of the Lady Elizabeth Hastings. We might mention other thwarted +attempts, which give much the same jar to our sensibilities as when some +one thinks to afford us pleasure by singing a favorite air out of tune. +The facility with which the characters are transported from the ends of +the earth to meet at a place called Plum Island surpasses any trick in +legerdemain. Unless we had read it here we should never have believed +that life on the coast of Maine could be so exciting, so cosmopolitan in +its scope, so thrilling in its incidents. There is a jumble of +notabilities--leaders of Boston and Washington society, a Jesuit Father, +an English peer, a brilliant diplomatist on the point of setting out on +a foreign mission, a Circe the magic of whose voice and eyes is +responsible for most of the mischief which goes on, Anglican priests, a +college professor, collegiates, at least one raving maniac, beautiful +young girls and representative Yankee men and women. From this company, +most of whom conduct themselves in manner which fails to prepossess us, +Mrs. Beauchamp Brown alone emerges with a distinct identity. Her zealous +adherence to herself, her unconsciousness of weakness or defect even in +the most rashly-chosen part, are good points. The writer allows her to +express herself without too elaborate canvassing of her character and +motives. When the Fifth Avenue Hotel is burning the great lady is amazed +at such behavior, and shrieks peremptory orders to have the fire put out +_immediately_. When she reaches Plum Island, and is transferred from the +steamboat to the skiff which is to carry her ashore, she is "angrily +scared at the seething waters and the grinning rocks." + +"'Man! this thing is full of water: my feet are almost in it!' shrieked +Mrs. Beauchamp Brown as the gundalow lurched and heaved shoreward. + +"The White man looked over his shoulder, and slowly wrinkled his +leathern cheeks into an encouraging smile. 'Like ter near killed a +woggin,' replied he sententiously. 'Will be ashore in a brace of +shakes.'" + +The Yankees are all capitally done, and the "local color" is excellent. +There is not much to be said for the other characters in the book. +Margaret, who is supposed to be irresistible, raises surprise if not +disgust. Her conversation is crude and infelicitous, her conduct +excessively ill-bred. Indeed, for a company of so-called elegant people, +the talk and doings are singularly bald and crude. Even the Jesuit +Father seems to have a dull perception about nice points of good +behavior, and we have a doubt which amounts to an active suspicion as to +the reality of the writer's experience of Jesuitical casuistry and +social wiles. Certainly, Father Williams fails to make us understand how +his order could have ever been considered dangerous. It seems a pity +that the author should have tried such a wide survey of human nature. +Her talent does not carry her into melodrama, to say nothing of tragedy, +but there are many evidences in her book of very fair powers in the way +of light comedy. + + + Studies in German Literature. By Bayard Taylor. With an + Introduction by George H. Boker.--Critical Essays and Literary + Notes. By Bayard Taylor. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. + +It would be impossible to name a better representative of American men +of letters, if there be such a class, than the late Bayard Taylor. We +have a few writers, easily counted, who are distinctively poets, +novelists or essayists; but the common ambition is to unite these titles +and add a few others--to enjoy, in fact, a free range over the whole +field of literature, exclusive only of the most arid or least attractive +portions. Taylor's versatility exceeded that of all his competitors: he +attempted a greater variety of tasks than any of them, and he failed in +none. And his writings, while so diverse, have a distinct and pervading +flavor. Though he travelled so extensively, imbibed so deeply of foreign +literature, and wrote so much on foreign themes, his tone of thought and +sentiment not only remained thoroughly American, but was always +suggestive of his early life and surroundings, his quiet Pennsylvania +home and its sober influences. His pictures of these are not the least +noteworthy portion of what he has given to the world, but in all his +productions the same spirit is visible--not flashing and impulsive, but +habituated to just conceptions and exact performance; not to be startled +or dazed by novelties, but capable of measuring and assimilating +whatever best suited it. On the whole, his nature, while retaining its +individuality and poise, was rather a highly receptive than a strongly +original one. Its growth was a steady accretion of knowledge, ideas, +experiences and aptitudes, without the exhibition of that power +which in minds of a rarer order reacts upon impressions with +a transforming influence. There is more appearance of freedom, of +spontaneousness--paradoxical as this may seem--in his translation of +_Faust_ than in any of his other performances, while deliberate, +conscientious workmanship is a leading characteristic of all, not +excepting the short notices of books reprinted from the New York +_Tribune_ in one of the volumes now before us. The matter of both these +volumes is chiefly critical, and the characterizations of men as well as +of books are always discriminating, generally just, often happily +expressed, but seldom vivid. The articles on Rueckert, Thackeray and +Weimar, which deal chiefly with personal reminiscences, are especially +pleasant reading; but the lectures on Goethe, however well they may have +served their immediate purpose, contain little that called for +preservation, being neither profound nor stimulating. While, however, +these volumes may add nothing to their author's reputation, they are no +unworthy memorials of a laborious, well-spent and happy life, of a +nature as kindly as it was earnest and sincere, and of talents that had +neither been buried nor misapplied. We find in a short paper on Lord +Houghton the remark that "there is an important difference between the +impression which a man makes who has avowedly done the utmost of which +he is capable, and that which springs from the exercise of genuine gifts +not so stimulated to their highest development." It cannot be doubted +that the former description is that which would apply to Taylor himself, +and probably with more force than to almost any of his contemporaries. + + + The American Art Review, Nos. 8 and 9. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. + +These two numbers of the _Art Review_ contain some critical writing of a +really high order in a couple of papers by Mrs. M. G. Van Rensselaer, +entitled "Artist and Amateur." They present an earnest plea for the +pursuit of culture for its own sake in this country. Taking "culture" in +the true sense of the word, as the opening and development of all the +faculties, a positive and electric not a negative and apathetic force, +Mrs. Van Rensselaer points out that it is not the natural birthright of +a select few, but is to be won by none without hard endeavor. The +endeavor, the intelligence and, to a certain extent, the desire for +culture, already exist here, but are constantly misapplied, and this, as +Mrs. Van Rensselaer aims to prove, through a misconception of the +relative positions of artist and amateur. All instruction is directed +toward execution, which is the artist's province, instead of +understanding and appreciation, which are the gifts of culture. The +effort to make the execution keep pace with the teaching confines the +latter, for the majority of learners, to the lowest mechanical rules, +leaving intellectual cultivation altogether to artists. Mrs. Van +Rensselaer argues that the time and money spent by young ladies of +slender talent in learning to paint pottery would, if given to study of +the principles of technique and of the history and aims of art, leave +them with more trained perceptions, an intelligent delight in works of +art and a wider intellectual range. She does not confine the application +of her ideas to painting, but extends it to other arts, making the aim +in music the substitution of appreciative listeners for mediocre +performers. Another interesting article, which the two numbers before us +divide between them, is one on Elihu Vedder by Mr. W. H. Bishop. It does +not force any very definite conclusions upon the reader, but it gives +him some idea of the career of this much talked-of painter, and is +finely illustrated with an etching of _The Sea-Serpent_ by Mr. Shoff, an +unusually strong full-page engraving of _The Sleeping Girl_ by Mr. +Linton, and a very tender and beautiful little cut by Mr. Kruell of _The +Venetian Model_. + + + + +_Books Received._ + + +The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By Edward +Gibbon. With Notes by Dean Milman, M. Guizot and Dr. William Smith. 6 +vols. New York: Harper & Brothers. + +Health and Healthy Homes. By George Wilson, M. A., M. D. With Notes and +Additions by J. G. Richardson, M. D. Philadelphia: Presley Blakiston. + +A Model Superintendent: A Sketch of the Life, Character and Methods of +Work of Henry P. Haven. By H. Clay Trumbull. New York: Harper & +Brothers. + +Monsieur Lecoq. From the French of Emile Gaboriau. Boston: Estes & +Lauriat. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lippincott's Magazine of Popular +Literature and Science, Vol. 26, October, 1880, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE *** + +***** This file should be named 29395.txt or 29395.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/9/29395/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Josephine Paolucci and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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