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diff --git a/41576-8.txt b/41576-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ccd1e55..0000000 --- a/41576-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14601 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. -XI.--April, 1851--Vol. II., 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: Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XI.--April, 1851--Vol. II. - -Author: Various - -Release Date: December 7, 2012 [EBook #41576] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY *** - - - - -Produced by Wayne Hammond, David Kline, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -HARPER'S - -NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. - -NO. XI.--APRIL, 1851--VOL. II. - - - - -[Illustration: Washington Irving - -[From a Daguerreotype by Plumbe.]] - - -There is a freshness about the fame and the character of Mr. IRVING, no -less than about his writings, which enables us to contemplate them with -unabated delight. Few men are so identified personally with their -literary productions, or have combined with admiration of their genius -such a cordial, home-like welcome in the purest affections of their -readers. We never become weary with the repetition of his familiar name; -no caprice of fashion tempts us to enthrone a new idol in place of the -ancient favorite; and even intellectual jealousies shrink back before -the soft brilliancy of his reputation. In the present Number of our -Magazine, we give our readers a portrait of the cherished author, with a -sketch of his sunny residence, which we are sure will be a grateful -memorial of one, to whom our countrymen owe such an accumulated fund of -exquisite enjoyments and delicious recollections. We will not let the -occasion pass without a few words of recognition, though conscious of no -wish to indulge in criticisms which at this late day might appear -superfluous. - -The position of Mr. IRVING in American literature is no less peculiar -than it is enviable. With the exception of Mr. PAULDING, none of our -eminent living authors have been so long before the public. He commenced -his career as a writer almost with the commencement of the present -century. The first indications of his rich vein of humor and invention -that appeared through the press, were contained in the Jonathan Oldstyle -Letters, published in the Morning Chronicle in 1802, when he was in the -twentieth year of his age. His health at this time having become -seriously impaired, he spent a few years in European travel, and soon -after his return in 1806, he wrote the sparkling papers in Salmagundi, -which at once decided his position as a shrewd observer of society, a -pointed and vigorous satirist, a graphic delineator of manners, and a -quaint moral teacher, whose joyous humor graciously attempered the -bitterness of his wit. It was not, however, till the appearance of -Knickerbocker, that his unique powers, in this respect, were displayed -in all their vernal bloom, giving the promise of future golden harvests, -which has since been more than redeemed in the richness and beauty of -the varied productions of his genius. - -The lapse of years has brought no cloud over the early brightness of Mr. -Irving's fame. He has sustained his reputation with an elastic vigor -that shows the soundness of its elements. At the dawn of American -letters, he was acknowledged to possess those enchantments of style, -that betray the hand of a master. His rare genius captivated all hearts. -His name was identified by our citizens with the racy chronicles of -their Dutch ancestors, and soon became associated with local -recollections and family traditions. Born in a quarter of the town, -whose original features have passed away before the encroachments of -business, he has witnessed the growth of his fame with the growth of the -city. The memory of Diedrich Knickerbocker is now immortalized at the -corners of the streets, and in our most crowded thoroughfares. Even the -dusty haunts of Mammon are refreshed with the emblems of a man of genius -who once trod their pavements. - -With his successive publications, a new phase of Mr. Irving's -intellectual character was displayed to the public, but with no decrease -of the admiration, which from the first had stamped him as a universal -favorite. The Sketch Book, Bracebridge Hall, and Tales of a Traveler -revealed a magic felicity of description, with a pathetic tenderness of -sentiment, that gave a still more mellow beauty to his composition; -while his elaborate historical work, The Life of Columbus, established -his reputation for unrivaled skill in sustaining the continuous interest -of a narrative, and in grouping its details with admirable picturesque -effect. His later productions, illustrative of Indian life, and his -still more recent works on the history of Mahomet and the biography of -Goldsmith, are marked with the characteristic traits of the author, -proving that his right hand has lost none of its cunning, nor his tongue -aught of its mellifluous sweetness. - -It is highly creditable to the tastes of the present generation, that -Mr. Irving retains, to such a remarkable degree, his wonted ascendency. -Other authors of acknowledged eminence have arisen in various -departments of literature, since he won his earlier laurels, and many of -them since he has ceased to be a young man, but they have not enticed -the more youthful class of readers from the allegiance which was paid to -him by their fathers. The monarch that knew not Joseph has not yet -ascended the throne. Indeed many of the most true-hearted admirers of -Mr. Irving were not born until long after the Sketch Book had made his -name a household word among the tasteful readers of English literature. -This enduring popularity could not spring from any accidental causes. It -must proceed from those qualities in the author, which are the pledge of -a permanent fame. If a foretaste of literary immortality is desirable on -earth, we may congratulate Mr. Irving on the possession of one of its -most significant symbols, in the unfading brilliancy of his reputation -for little less than half a century. - -We have already alluded to the use made by Mr. Irving of the historical -legends of our country. Nor is this his only claim on the American -heart. He is peculiarly a national writer. He has sought his -inspirations from the woods and streams, the lakes and prairies of his -native land. No poet has been more successful in throwing the spell of -romance around our familiar scenery. Under his creative pen the lordly -heights of the Hudson have become classic ground. The beings of his -weird fancy have peopled their forest dells, and obtained a "local -habitation" as permanent as the river and the mountains. His love of -country is a genial passion, inspired by the reminiscences of his youth, -and quickened by the studies of his manhood. He is proud of his -birthright in a land of freedom. His protracted residence abroad has -never seduced him from the ardor of his first attachment to the American -soil. His favorite writings are pervaded with this spirit. Yet he -betrays none of the prejudices of national pride. His patriotism is free -from all tincture of bigotry. He scorns the narrowness of exclusive -partialities. With genuine cosmopolitan tastes, he gathers up all that -is precious and beautiful in the traditions, or manners, or institutions -of other lands, finding materials for his gorgeous pictures in the -ancestral glories of English castles, and the splendid ruins of the -Alhambra, as well as in the quaint legends of Manhattan, and the -adventures of trapper life in the Far West. This singular universality -has given him the freedom of the whole literary world. As he every where -finds himself at home, his fame is not the monopoly of any nation. He -has his circle of admirers around the hearth-stones of every cultivated -people. Even the English, who are slow to recognize a melody in their -own language when spoken by a transatlantic tongue, have vied with his -countrymen in rendering homage to his genius. His evident mastery, even -in those departments of composition which have been the favorite sphere -of the most popular English writers, has softened the asperity of -criticism, and won a genial admiration from the worshipers of Addison, -Goldsmith, and Mackenzie. In this respect Mr. Irving stands alone among -American writers. Cherished with a glow of affectionate enthusiasm by -his own countrymen, he has secured a no less beautiful fame among -myriads of readers, with whom his sole intellectual tie is the -spontaneous attraction of his genius. - -His universality is displayed with equal strength in the influence which -he exerts over all classes of minds. He has never been raised to a -factitious eminence by the applauses of a clique. His fame is as natural -and as healthy as his character, owing none of its lustre to the gloss -of flattery, or the glare of fashion. His themes have been taken, to a -great extent from common life. He has derived the coloring of his -pictures from the universal sentiments of humanity. He is equally free -from cold, prosaic, common-place hardness of feeling and from sickly and -mawkish effeminacy. He loves to deal with matters of fact, but always -surrounds them with the light of his radiant imagination. He exalts and -glorifies the actual, without losing it in the clouds of a vaporous -ideal. Refined and fastidious in feeling, he retains his sympathy with -the most homely realities of life, chuckles over the luscious comforts -of a Dutch ménage, and professes no philosophical indifference to the -savor of smoking venison in an Indian lodge. With the curious felicity -of his style, he uses no strange and far-fetched words. Its charm -depends on the beauty of its combinations, not on the rarity of its -language. He employs terms that are in the mouths of the people, but -weaves them up into those expressive and picturesque forms that never -cease to haunt the memory of the reader. Accordingly, he is cherished -with equal delight by persons of every variety of culture. His -fascinating volumes always formed a part of the traveling equipage of -one of the most celebrated New-England judges, and they may be found -with no less certainty among the household goods of the emigrant, and -the resources for a rainy day on the frugal shelves of the Yankee -farmer. They still detain the old man from his pillow, and the schoolboy -from his studies. Under their potent charm, the merchant forgets his -Wall-street engagements; the preacher lingers over their seductive -sentences till the Sunday becomes an astonishment; the statesman is -beguiled into oblivion of the salvation of his country; and the advocate -is absorbed in the fortunes of some "roystering varlet," till his own -forlorn client loses all chance of recovering his character. - -The writings of Mr. Irving are no less distinguished by the truthfulness -and purity of their moral tone, than by their delightful humor, and -their apt delineations of nature and society. It is small praise to say -that he never panders to a vicious sentiment, that he makes no appeal to -a morbid imagination, and has written nothing to encourage a false and -effeminate view of life. His merits, in this respect, are of a positive -character. No one can be familiar with his productions, without -receiving a kindly and generous influence. His goodness of heart -communicates a benignant contagion to his readers. His mild and -beautiful charity, his spirit of wise tolerance, the considerateness and -candor of his judgments, the placable gentleness of his temper, and the -just appreciation of the infinite varieties of character and life are -adapted to mitigate the harshness of the cynic, and even to quell the -wild furies of the bigot. His sharpest satire never degenerates into -personal abuse. It seems the efflorescence of a rich nature, susceptible -to every shade of the ludicrous, rather than the overflow of a poisonous -fountain, spreading blight and mildew in its course. If he laughs at the -follies of the world, it is not that he has any less love for the good -souls who commit them, but that with his exuberant good-nature he has no -heart to use a more destructive weapon than his lambent irony. With his -fine moral influence, he never affects the sternness of a reformer. He -is utterly free from all didactic pedantry. We know nothing that he has -written with a view to ethical effect. He reveals his own nature in the -sweet flow of his delicate musings, and if he does good it is with -delightful unconsciousness. He would blush to find that he had been -useful when he aimed only to give pleasure, or rather to relieve his own -mind of its "thick coming fancies." - -In describing the position of Mr. Irving in the field of American -literature, we have incidentally touched upon the characteristics of his -genius, to which he is indebted for his high and enviable fame. We need -not expand our rapid sketch into a labored analysis. Indeed every just -criticism of his writings would only repeat the verdict that has so -often been pronounced by the universal voice. - -Nor is it exclusively as a writer that Mr. Irving has won such a -distinguished place in the admiration of his countrymen. While proud of -his successes in the walks of literature, they have regarded his -personal character with affectionate delight, and lavished the heartfelt -sympathies on the man which are never paid to the mere author. The -purity of this offering is the more transparent, as Mr. Irving has never -courted the favor of the public, nor been placed in those relations with -his fellow-men, that are usually the conditions of general popularity. -He has wisely kept himself apart from the excitements of the day; with -decided political opinions, he has abstained from every thing like -partisanship; no one has been able to count on his advocacy of any -special interests; and with his singular fluency and grace of -expression in written composition, he has never affected the arts -of popular oratory. His habits have been those of the well-educated -gentleman--neither cherishing the retirement of the secluded student, -nor seeking a prominence in public affairs--throwing a charm over the -social circles which he frequented by the brilliancy of his intellect, -the amenity of his manners, and the ease of his colloquial -intercourse--but never surrounded by the prestige of factitious -distinction by which so many inferior men obtain an ephemeral notoriety. -His appointment as Minister to Spain has been his sole official honor; -and this was rather a tribute to his literary eminence than the reward -of political services. On his return from Europe in 1832, after an -absence of nearly twenty years, he was received with a spontaneous -welcome by his fellow-citizens, such as has been seldom enjoyed by the -most successful claimants of popular favor; and from that time to the -present, no one has shown a more undisputed title to the character of -the favorite son of Manhattan. In his beautiful retreat at Sunnyside, -"as quiet and sheltered a nook as the heart of man could desire in which -to take refuge from the cares and troubles of this world," he listens to -the echoes of his fame, cheered by the benedictions of troops of -friends, and enjoying the autumn maturity of life with no mists of envy -and bitterness to cloud the purple splendors of his declining sun. - -It is understood that Mr. Irving is now engaged in completing the Life -of Washington, a work of which he commenced the preparation before his -residence in Europe as Minister to the Spanish Court. We are informed -that it will probably be given to the public in the course of another -season. It can not fail to prove a volume of national and household -interest. The revered features of the Immortal Patriot will assume a -still more benignant aspect, under the affectionate and skillful touches -of the congenial Artist. With his unrivaled power of individualization, -his practiced ability in historical composition, and his acute sense of -the moral perspective in character, he will present the illustrious -subject of his biography in a manner to increase our admiration of his -virtues, and to inspire a fresh enthusiasm for the wise and beneficent -principles of which his life was the sublime embodiment. There is a -beautiful propriety in the still more intimate connection of the name of -WASHINGTON IRVING with that of the FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY. It is meet -that the most permanent and precious memorial of the First Chief of the -American Republic should be presented by the Patriarch of American -Letters. It would be a fitting close of his bright career before the -public--the melodious swan-song of his historic Muse. - -[Illustration: SUNNYSIDE, THE RESIDENCE OF WASHINGTON IRVING.] - - - - -[Illustration: William Cullen Bryant.] - - -The birthplace of Mr. BRYANT, in a secluded and romantic spot -among the mountains of western Massachusetts, seems to have been -selected by Nature as a fit residence for the early unfolding of high -poetic genius. Situated on the forest elevations above the beautiful -valley of the Connecticut in the old county of Hampshire, surrounded by -a rare combination of scenery, in which are impressively blended the -wild and rugged with the soft and graceful, adorned in summer with the -splendors of a rapid and luxuriant vegetation, in winter exposed to the -fiercest storms from the northwest which bury the roads and almost the -houses in gigantic snow-drifts, inhabited by a hardy and primitive -population which exhibit the peculiar traits of New England character in -their most salient form, the little town of Cummington has the -distinction of giving birth to the greatest American poet. - -It was here that he was first inspired with a sense of the glory and -mystery of Nature--first learned to "hold communion with her visible -forms," and to lend his ear to her "various language"--first awoke to -the consciousness of the "vision and the faculty divine," which he has -since displayed in such manifold forms of poetic creation. It was under -the shadow of his "native hills"-- - - "Broad, round, and green, that in the summer sky - With garniture of waving grass and grain, - Orchards, and beechen forests basking lie, - While deep the sunless glens are scooped between - Where brawl o'er shallow beds the streams unseen"-- - -in the "groves which were God's first temples," where the "sacred -influences" - - "From the stilly twilight of the place, - And from the gray old trunks, that high in heaven - Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound - Of the invisible breath, that swayed at once - All their green tops, stole over him"-- - -that the spirit of the boy-poet was touched with the mystic harmonies of -the universe, and received those impressions of melancholy grandeur from -natural objects, which pervade the most characteristic productions of -his genius. - -Mr. BRYANT'S vocation for poetry was marked at a very early age. The -history of literature scarcely affords an example of such a precocious, -and, at the same time, such a healthy development. His first efforts -betray no symptoms of a forced, hot-bed culture, but seem the -spontaneous growth of a prolific imagination. They are free from the -spasmodic forces which indicate a morbid action of the intellect, and -flow in the polished, graceful, self-sustaining tranquillity, which is -usually the crowning attainment of a large and felicitous experience. -Among his earliest productions were several translations from different -Latin poets, some of which, made at ten years of age, were deemed so -successful, as to induce his friends to publish them in the newspaper of -a neighboring town. These were followed by a regular satirical -poem, entitled "The Embargo," written during the heated political -controversies concerning the policy of Mr. Jefferson, many of whose most -strenuous opponents resided at Northampton (at that time the centre of -political and social influence to a wide surrounding country), and from -the contagion of whose intelligence and zeal, the susceptible mind of -the young poet could not be expected to escape. This was published in -Boston, in 1808, before the author had completed his fourteenth year. -Its merits were at once acknowledged; it was noticed in the principal -literary review of that day; it was read with an eagerness in proportion -to the warmth of party spirit; and, indeed, so strong was the impression -which it made on the most competent judges, that nothing but the -explicit assertions of the friends of the writer could convince them of -its genuineness. It seemed, in all respects, too mature and finished a -performance to have proceeded from such a juvenile pen. This point, -however, was soon decided, and if any remaining doubts lingered in their -minds, they might have been removed by the production of "Thanatopsis," -which was written about four years after, when the author was in the -beginning of his nineteenth year. - -This remarkable poem was not published until 1816, when it appeared in -the North American Review, then under the charge of Mr. DANA, -who has himself since attained to such a signal eminence among the poets -and essayists of America, and between whom and Mr. Bryant a singular -unity of intellectual tastes laid the foundation for a cordial -friendship, which has been maintained with a warmth and constancy in the -highest degree honorable to the character of both parties. Meanwhile, -Mr. Bryant had established himself in the profession of the law, in the -beautiful village of Great Barrington, exchanging the mountain wildness -of his native region, for the diversified and singularly lovely scenery -of the Housatonic Valley, where he composed the lines "To Green Elver," -"Inscription for an entrance to a Wood," "To a Waterfowl," and several -of his other smaller poems, which have since hardly been surpassed by -himself, and certainly not by any other American writer. - -The "Thanatopsis," viewed without reference to the age at which it was -produced, is one of the most precious gems of didactic verse in the -whole compass of English poetry, but when considered as the composition -of a youth of eighteen, it partakes of the character of the marvelous. -It is, however, unjust to its rich and solemn beauty to contemplate it -in the light of a prodigy. Nor are we often tempted to revert to the -singularity of its origin, when we yield our minds to the influence of -its grand and impressive images. It seems like one of those majestic -products of nature, to which we assign no date, and which suggest no -emotion but that of admiration at their glorious harmony. - -The objection has been made to the "Thanatopsis," that its consolations -in view of death are not drawn directly from the doctrines of religion, -and that it in fact makes no express allusion to the Divine Providence, -nor to the immortality of the soul. These ideas are so associated in -most minds with the subject matter of the poem, that their omission -causes a painful sense of incongruity. But the writer was not composing -a homily, nor a theological treatise. His imagination was absorbed with -the soothing influences of nature under the anticipation of the "last -bitter hour." In order to make the contrast more forcible, the poem -opens with a cold and dreary picture of the common destiny. Earth claims -the body which she has nourished; man is doomed to renounce his -individual being and mingle with the elements; kindred with the sluggish -clod, his mould is pierced by the roots of the spreading oak. The sun -shall no more see him in his daily course, nor shall any traces of his -image remain on earth or ocean. - -But the universality of this fate relieves the desolation of the -prospect. Nature imparts a solace to her favorite child, glides into his -darker musings with mild and healing sympathy, and gently counsels him -not to look with dread on the mysterious realm, which is the final goal -of humanity. No one retires alone to his eternal resting-place. No couch -more magnificent could be desired than the mighty sepulchre in which -kings and patriarchs have laid down to their last repose. Every thing -grand and lovely in nature contributes to the decoration of the great -tomb of man. The dead are every where. The sun, the planets, the -infinite host of heaven, have shone on the abodes of death through the -lapse of ages. The living, who now witness the departure of their -companions without heed, will share their destiny. With these kindly -admonitions, Nature speaks to the spirit when it shudders at the thought -of the stern agony and the narrow house. - -The stately movement of the versification, the accumulated grandeur of -the imagery, the vein of tender and solemn pathos, and the spirit of -cheerful trust at the close, which mark this extraordinary poem, render -it more effective, in an ethical point of view, than volumes of -exhortation; while, regarded as a work of art, the unity of purpose with -which its leading thought is presented under a variety of aspects, gives -it a completeness and symmetry which remove the force of the objection -to which we have alluded. - -In a similar style of majestic thought is the "Forest Hymn," from which -we can not refrain from quoting an inimitable passage, descriptive of -the alternation between Life and Death in the Universe, which seems to -us to open the heart of the mystery with a truthfulness of insight that -has found expression in language of unsurpassable energy. - - "My heart is awed within me, when I think - Of the great miracle that still goes on - In silence, round me--the perpetual work - Of thy creation, finish'd, yet renew'd - Forever. Written on thy works, I read - The lesson of thy own eternity. - Lo! all grow old and die--but see, again, - How on the faltering footsteps of decay - Youth presses--ever gay and beautiful youth, - In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees - Wave not less proudly that their ancestors - Moulder beneath them. O, there is not lost - One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet, - After the flight of untold centuries, - The freshness of her far beginning lies, - And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate - Of his arch-enemy, Death--yea, seats himself - Upon the tyrant's throne--the sepulchre, - And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe - Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth - From thine own bosom, and shall have no end." - -The soft and exquisite beauty of the lines entitled "To a Waterfowl" is -appreciated by every reader of taste. They belong to that rare class of -poems which, once read, haunt the imagination with a perpetual charm. A -more natural expression of true religious feeling than that contained in -the closing stanzas, is nowhere to be met with. - - "Thou 'rt gone, the abyss of heaven - Hath swallow'd up thy form; yet, on my heart - Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, - And shall not soon depart. - - "He who, from zone to zone, - Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, - In the long way that I must tread alone, - Will lead my steps aright." - -[Illustration: BRYANT'S RESIDENCE, AT ROSLYN, (HEMPSTEAD HARBOR) L. I.] - -But we have no space to dwell upon the attractive details of Mr. -Bryant's poetry, though it would be a grateful task to pass in review -the familiar productions, of which we can weary as little as of the -natural landscape. It needs no profound analysis to state their most -general characteristics. Bryant's descriptions of nature are no less -remarkable for their minute accuracy than for the richness and delicacy -of their suggestions in the sphere of sentiment. No one can ever be -tempted to accuse him of obtaining his knowledge of nature at second -hand. He paints nothing which he has not seen. His images are derived -from actual experience. Hence they have the vernal freshness of an -orchard in bloom. He is no less familiar with the cheerful tune of -brooks in flowery June than with the voices and footfalls of the -thronged city. He has watched the maize-leaf and the maple-bough growing -greener under the fierce sun of midsummer; the mountain wind has -breathed its coolness on his brow; he has gazed at the dark figure of -the wild-bird painted on the crimson sky; and listened to the sound of -dropping nuts as they broke the solemn stillness of autumn woods. The -scenes of nature which he has loved and wooed have rewarded him with -their beautiful revelations in the moral world. Her dim symbolism has -become transparent to the anointed eye of the reverent bard, and -initiated him into the mysteries which give a new significance to the -material creation. - -It is true that the staple of his poetry is reflection, rather than -passion, reminding us of the chaste severity of sculpture, and not -appealing to the fancy by any sensuous or voluptuous arts of coloring. -But a deep sentiment underlies the expression; and he touches the -springs of emotion with a powerful hand, though he never ceases to be -master of his own feelings. The apparent coldness of which some have -complained, may be ascribed to the frigidity of the reader, with more -truth than to the apathy of the writer. With its highly intellectual -character, the poetry of Mr. Bryant is adapted to win a more profound -and lasting admiration than if it were merely the creation of a -productive fancy. It may gain a more limited circle of readers (although -its universal popularity sets aside this supposition), but they who have -once enjoyed its substantial reality will place it on the same shelf -with Milton and Wordsworth, with a "sober certainty" that they will -always find it instinct with a fresh and genuine vitality. - -The influence of this poetry is of a pure and ennobling character; never -ministering to false or unhealthy sensibility, it refreshes the better -feelings of our nature; inspiring a tranquil confidence in the on-goings -of the Universe, with whose most beautiful manifestations we are brought -into such intimate communion. Its most pensive tones, which murmur such -sweet, sad music, never lull the soul in the repose of despair, but -inspire it with a cheerful hope in the issues of the future. The -"inexorable Past" shall yet yield the treasures which are hidden in its -mysterious depths, and every thing good and fair be renewed in "the -glory and the beauty of its prime." - - "All shall come back, each tie - Of pure affection shall be knit again; - Alone shall Evil die, - And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign." - -As a prose writer, Mr. Bryant is distinguished for signal excellencies -both of thought and expression, evincing a remarkable skill in various -departments of composition, from the ephemeral political essay to the -high-wrought fictitious tale, and graphic recollections of foreign -travel. The superior brightness of his poetic fame can alone prevent him -from being known to posterity as a vigorous and graceful master of -prose, surpassed by few writers of the present day. - - - - -THE CRYSTAL PALACE. - - -In the early months of last year the Great Exhibition had become as -nearly a "fixed fact" as any thing in the future can be. The place where -and the building in which it was to be held, then became matters for -grave consideration. The first point, fortunately, presented little -difficulty, the south side of Hyde-park, between Kensington-road and -Rotten-row, having been early selected as the locality. - -The construction of the edifice, however, presented difficulties not so -easily surmounted. The Building Committee, comprising some of the -leading architects and engineers of the kingdom, among whom are Mr. -Barry, the architect of the new Houses of Parliament, and Mr. -Stephenson, the constructor of the Britannia Tubular Bridge, advertised -for plans to be presented for the building. When the committee met, they -found no want of designs; their table was loaded with them, to the -number of 240. Their first task was to select those which were -positively worthless, and throw them aside. By this process the -number for consideration was reduced to about sixty; and from -these the committee proceeded to concoct a design, which pleased -nobody--themselves least of all. However, the plan, such as it was, was -decided upon, and advertisements were issued for tenders for its -construction. This was the signal for a fierce onslaught upon the -proceedings of the committee. For the erection of a building which was -to be used for only a few months, more materials were to be thrown into -one of the main lungs of the metropolis, than were contained in the -eternal pyramids of Egypt. Moreover, could the requisite number of miles -of brickwork be constructed within the few weeks of time allotted? and -was it not impossible that this should, in so short a time, become -sufficiently consolidated to sustain the weight of the immense iron dome -which, according to the design of the committee, was to rest upon it? - -The committee, fortunately, were not compelled to answer these and a -multitude of similar puzzling interrogatories which were poured in upon -them. Relief was coming to them from an unexpected quarter: whence, we -must go back a little to explain. - -On New Year's Day, of the year 1839, Sir Robert Schomburgk, the -botanist, was proceeding in a native boat up the River Berbice, in -Demerara. In a sheltered reach of the stream, he discovered resting upon -the still waters an aquatic plant, a species of lily, but of a gigantic -size, and of a shape hitherto unknown. Seeds of this plant, to which was -given the name of "Victoria Regia," were transmitted to England, and -were ultimately committed to the charge of JOSEPH PAXTON, the -horticulturist at Chatsworth, the magnificent seat of the Duke of -Devonshire. The plant produced from these seeds became the occasion, and -in certain respects the model, for the Crystal Palace. - -Every means was adopted to place the plant in its accustomed -circumstances. A tropical soil was formed for it of burned loam and -peat; Newcastle coal was substituted for a meridian sun, to produce an -artificial South America under an English heaven; by means of a wheel a -ripple like that of its native river, was communicated to the waters of -the tank upon which its broad leaves reposed. Amid such enticements -the lily could not do otherwise than flourish; and in a month it had -outgrown its habitation. The problem was therefore set before its -foster-father to provide for it, within a few weeks, a new home. This -was not altogether a new task for Mr. Paxton, who had already devoted -much attention to the erection of green-houses; and within the required -space of time, he had completed this house for the "Victoria Regia," and -therein, in the sense in which the acorn includes the oak, that of the -Crystal Palace. - -[Illustration: THE GREAT EXHIBITION BUILDING.] - -While Mr. Paxton was planning an abode for this Brobdignagian lily, the -Building Committee of the Exhibition were poring wearily over the 240 -plans lying upon their table. They had rejected the 180 worthless ones, -and from the remainder had concocted, as we have said, with much -cogitation and little satisfaction, their own design. Such as it was, -however, it was determined that it should be executed--if possible. - -This brings us down to the middle, or to be precise, to the 18th of -June, on which day Mr. Paxton was sitting as chairman on a railway -committee. He had previously made himself acquainted with the case laid -before them, and was not therefore under the necessity of now devoting -his attention to it. He took advantage of this leisure moment to work -out a design for the Exhibition Building, which he had conceived some -days previously. In ten days thereafter elevations, sections, working -plans and specifications, were completed from this draft, and the whole -was submitted to the inspection of competent and influential persons, by -whom it was unanimously announced to be practicable, and the only -practicable scheme presented. - -This design was then laid before the contractors, Messrs. Fox and -Henderson, who at once determined to submit a tender for the -construction of a building in accordance with it. In a single week, they -had calculated the amount and cost of every pound of iron, every pane of -glass, every foot of wood, and every hour of labor which would be -required, and were prepared with a tender and specifications for the -construction of the edifice. But here arose a difficulty. The committee -had advertised only for proposals for carrying out their own design; -but, fortunately, they had invited the suggestion on the part of -contractors, of any improvements upon it; and so Mr. Paxton's plan was -presented simply as an "improvement" upon that of the committee, with -which it had not a single feature in common. This, with certain -modifications, was adopted, and the result is the Crystal Palace--itself -the greatest wonder which the Exhibition will present--the exterior of -which is represented in our accompanying Illustration. - -The building consists of three series of elevations of the respective -heights of 64, 44, and 24 feet, intersected at the centre by a transept -of 72 feet in width, having a semicircular roof rising to the height of -108 feet in the centre. It extends in length 1851 feet from north to -south, more than one-third of a mile, with a breadth of 456 feet upon -the ground; covering 18 superficial acres, nearly double the extent of -our own Washington-square; and exceeding by more than one half the -dimensions of the Park or the Battery. The whole rests upon cast-iron -pillars, united by bolts and nuts, fixed to flanges turned perfectly -true, so that if the socket be placed level, the columns and -connecting-pieces must stand upright; and, in point of fact, not a -crooked line is discoverable in the combination of such an immense -number of pieces. For the support of the columns, holes are dug in the -ground, in which is placed a bed of concrete, and upon this rest iron -sockets of from three to four feet in length, according to the level of -the ground, to which the columns are firmly attached by bolts and nuts. -At the top, each column is attached by a girder to its opposite column, -both longitudinally and transversely, so that the whole eighteen acres -of pillars is securely framed together. - -The roofs, of which there are five, one to each of the elevations, are -constructed on the "ridge and furrow" principle, and glazed -with sheets of glass of 49 inches in length. The construction will be at -once understood by imagining a series of parallel rows of the letter V -(thus, \/\/\/), extending in uninterrupted lines the whole length of the -building. The apex of each ridge is formed by a wooden sash-bar with -notches upon each side for holding the laths in which are fitted the -edges of the glass. The bottom bar, or rafter, is hollowed at the top so -as to form a gutter to carry off the water, which passes through -transverse gutters into the iron columns, which are hollow, thus serving -as water-pipes; in the base of the columns horizontal pipes are -inserted, which convey the accumulated water into the sewers. The -exhalations, from so large an extent of surface, from the plants, and -from the breath of the innumerable visitors, rising and condensed -against the glass, would descend from a flat roof in the form of a -perpetual mist, but it is found that from glass pitched at a particular -angle the moisture does not fall, but glides down its surface. The -bottom bars are therefore grooved on the inside, thus forming interior -gutters, by which the moisture also finds its way down the interior of -the columns, through the drainage pipes, into the sewers. These grooved -rafters, of which the total length is 205 miles, are formed by -machinery, at a single operation. - -The lower tier of the building is boarded, the walls of the upper -portion being composed, like the roof, of glass. Ventilation is provided -for by the basement portion being walled with iron plates, placed at an -angle of 45 degrees, known as _luffer-boarding_, which admits the air -freely, while it excludes the rain. A similar provision is made at the -top of each tier of the building. These are so constructed that they can -be closed at pleasure. In order to subdue the intense light in a -building having such an extent of glass surface, the whole roof and the -south side will be covered with canvas, which will also preclude the -possibility of injury from hail, as well as render the edifice much -cooler. - -In the construction of the building care has been taken to give to each -part the stiffest and strongest form possible in a given quantity of -material. The columns are hollow, and the girders which unite them are -trellis-formed. The utmost weight which any girder will ever be likely -to sustain is seven and a half tons; and not one is used until after -having been tested to the extent of 15 tons; while the breaking weight -is calculated at 30 tons. At first sight, there would seem to be danger -that a building presenting so great a surface to the action of the wind, -would be liable to be blown down. But from the manner in which the -columns are framed together they can not be overthrown except by -breaking them. Experiments show that in order to break the 1060 columns -on the ground floor, a force of 6360 tons must be exerted, at a height -of 24 feet. The greatest force of the wind ever known is computed at 22 -pounds to the superficial foot; assuming a possible force of 28 pounds, -and suppose a hurricane of that momentum to strike at once the whole -side of the building, the total force would be less than 1500 tons--not -one-fourth of the capacity of the building to sustain, independent of -the bracings, which add materially to its strength. So that, if any -reliance at all can be placed upon theoretical engineering, there can be -no doubt as to the safety of the building. - -Entering at the main east or west entrance, we find ourselves in a nave -64 feet in height, 72 in breadth, and extending without interruption the -whole length of the building, one-third of a mile. Parallel with this, -but interrupted by the transept in the centre, are a series of side -aisles of 48 and 24 feet in breadth, with a height of 44 and 24 feet. -Over the centre of the nave swells the semicircular roof of the -transept, overarching the stately trees beneath--a Brobdignagian -green-house with ancient elms instead of geraniums and rose-bushes. The -whole area of the ground floor is 772,784 square feet; and that of the -galleries 217,100; making in all within a fraction of one million square -feet; to which may be added 500,000 feet of hanging-space, available for -the display of the products of human heads and hands. - -There are three refreshment rooms, one in the transept, and one near -each end, around the trees which were left standing, where ices and -pastry for the wealthy, and bread-and-butter and cheese for the poorer -are to be furnished. No wine, spirits, or fermented liquors are to be -sold; only tea, coffee, and unfermented drinks; pure water is to be -furnished gratis to all comers by the lessees of the refreshment rooms. - -In respect to the decoration of the interior, a keen controversy has -been waged. The fact of iron being the material of construction renders -it necessary that it should be painted to preserve it from the action of -the atmosphere. On the one hand, it is said that the fact that the -structure is metallic should be indicated by the decoration, otherwise -the whole will have no more appearance of stability than an arbor of -wicker-work. Those who take this view recommend that the interior -should be bronzed. On the other hand, those to whom the decoration is -intrusted affirm that the object of using color is to increase the -effect of light and shade. If the whole were of one uniform dead color -the effect of the innumerable parts of which the building is composed, -all falling in similar lines, one before the other, would be precisely -that of a plane surface; the extended lines of pillars presenting the -aspect of a continuous wall. In order to bring out the distinctive -features of the building various colors must be used; and experiments -show that a combination of the primary colors, red, blue, and yellow, is -most pleasant to the eye. The best means for using these is to place -blue, which retreats, upon the concave surfaces, yellow, which advances, -upon the convex ones, reserving red for plane surfaces. But as when -these colors come in contact each becomes tinged with the complementary -color of the other--the blue with green, the red with orange--a line of -white is interposed between them. Applying these principles, the shafts -of the columns are to be yellow, the concave portions of their capitals -blue, the under side of the girders red, and their vertical surfaces -white. - -Among all the wonders of the Crystal Palace nothing is more wonderful -than its cheapness, and the rapidity of its construction. Possession of -the site was obtained on the 30th of July; in a period of only 145 -working-days the building was to all intents and purposes completed. As -to cheapness it costs less per cubic foot than an ordinary barn. If used -only for the Exhibition, and at its close returned to the contractors, -the cost will be nine-sixteenths of a penny a foot; or, if permanently -purchased, it will be one penny and one-twelfth. Thus: The solid -contents are 33,000,000 cubic feet; the price if returned is £79,800, if -retained £150,000. This simple fact, that a building of glass and iron, -covering eighteen acres, affording room for nine miles of tables, should -have been completed in less than five months from the day when the -contract was entered into, at a cost less than that of the humblest -hovel, opens a new era in the science of building. - -As to the final destination of the Crystal Palace, it is the wish of the -designer that it should be converted into a permanent winter-garden with -drives and promenades. Leaving ample space for plants, there would be -two miles of walks in the galleries, and the same amount for walks upon -the ground floor; in summer the removal of the upright glass would give -the whole the appearance of a continuous walk or garden. - - - - -[Illustration: VOYAGE IN SEARCH OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN] - - -Sir JOHN FRANKLIN, in command of the "Erebus" and "Terror," having on -board one hundred and thirty-eight souls, set sail from England on the -19th of May, 1845, in search of a northwest passage. On the 26th of -July, sixty-eight days afterward, they were seen by a passing whaler -moored to an iceberg near the centre of Baffin's Bay; since which time -no intelligence of their fate has been received. No special anxiety was -entertained respecting them until the beginning of 1848, for the -commander had intimated that the voyage would probably continue for -three years, and that they might be the first to announce their own -return. But as month after month passed away without bringing any -tidings, an anxious and painful sympathy sprung up in the public mind, -and the British Government determined that searches for the missing -vessels should be made in three different quarters by three separate -expeditions fitted out for that purpose. - -One quarter, however, that region known as Boothia, where there was a -probability of success, was beyond the scope of these expeditions, and -Lady Franklin determined to organize an expedition to explore that -region. For this purpose she appropriated all the means under her -control; and a subscription was opened to supply the deficiency. The -"Prince Albert," a ketch of less than ninety tons burden, measuring in -length about seventy-two feet, and seventeen in breadth, was purchased -for the expedition. She was taken to Aberdeen to be fitted up; a double -planking was put upon her, by way of pea-jacket to fit her for her -arctic voyage, and a crew of fourteen canny Scotchmen, secured by the -promise of double pay. Captain Forsyth, of the Royal Navy, proffered his -gratuitous services as commander. Attached to the expedition, having -special charge of the stores and scientific instruments, with the -express understanding that he should head one of the exploring parties -to be sent out from Regent's Inlet, was Mr. W. PARKER SNOW, from whose -Journal we propose to draw up some account of the pleasures of sailing -through the ice. - -Mr. Snow seems to have been precisely the man for such an undertaking. -He left America at three days' notice to join any expedition which might -be sent out by Lady Franklin. With an active, hopeful temperament, never -so happy as in a gale of wind, if it was only blowing the right way, he -rushed to the embrace of the Arctic Snows with as much alacrity as -though they were kinsmen as well as namesakes. He had, moreover, a -happy faculty of turning his hand to every thing, and no disposition to -hide his talent in a napkin. A physician had been engaged for the -vessel; but when, two days before sailing, the disciple of Esculapius -saw the diminutive craft, he declined to proceed:--Mr. Snow volunteered -to perform his duties; he had read a little medicine at odd hours; and -by the aid of Rees's Guide, and Smee's Broadsheet, his practice was -uniformly successful--either in spite of, or on account of, his informal -professional training. The sailors, as might be expected from their -Scotch blood, were desirous of having religious worship on board:--Mr. -Snow offered his services as chaplain, reading and expounding the -Scriptures, and offering up prayer. - -On the 6th of June, 1850, the Prince Albert set sail from Aberdeen; a -fortnight brought them within two hundred miles of the shores of -Greenland. Then came, for a week, a succession of heavy gales, which -drove them back upon their course; so that in six days their progress -was not more than a dozen miles. The 1st of July, however, found them -off Cape Farewell. Some idea of the multifarious occupations of the -many-officed Mr. Snow, at a time when his proper duties had not -commenced, may be gathered from his description of - - -LIFE ON SHIPBOARD. - -"At half-past six I used to turn out; and, warm or cold, wet or dry, -take an immediate ablution in the pure and natural element. For half an -hour I would then walk on deck, fair or foul; and, a little before -eight, examine the men's forecastle; see to their condition, and whether -any of them were sick; and if so, give them medicine. At eight bells, I -would then take the chronometrical time for Captain Forsyth, while he -observed the altitude of the sun, to get our longitude. Latterly I used, -by his desire, to take a set of sights also myself, taking the time from -a common watch, and comparing it afterward with the chronometer. The -chronometers were then wound up by me, and the thermometer, barometer, -&c., registered. At eight o'clock the two mates went to breakfast; the -captain and I getting ours soon after them. During the forenoon I had to -attend to the stores, provisions, &c.; write my accounts, journals, and -other papers; and at noon worked up the ship's reckoning, the -observations, and wrote the ship's log, examining our present position -and future course. The mates had their dinner at noon: the captain and I -at three P.M.; after which, a stroll for an hour or so on deck was taken -by both of us. Tea came round at six, and at eight P.M. I used to try -the temperature of the air on deck, and of the sea. After that, we would -read together in the stern cabin. At ten, we would take our hot grog; -and, generally about eleven, when free from rough weather or the -neighborhood of ice, turn in for the night. Very little candle was -required below at night, as there was seldom more than an hour or two's -darkness during any part of our voyage, until we were returning. It was -not long after this date, moreover, that we had continued daylight -through the whole twenty-four hours." - -The principal obstruction and danger in arctic navigation arises from -the ice; fields of which often occur of twenty or thirty miles in -diameter, and ten or fifteen feet in thickness. From these crystal -plains rise sometimes isolated, sometimes in groups, elevations of -thirty or more feet in height, called _hummocks_. Dr. Scoresby once saw -a field so free from hummocks and fissures that a coach might have -traversed it for leagues in a straight direction, without obstruction. -In May or June these fields begin to drift along in solemn procession to -the southwestward, in which direction they hold their steady course, -whether in calm or in spite of adverse winds. When these floating -continents emerge from the drift ice which had hitherto protected them, -they are shattered and broken up by the long, deep swell of the ocean. A -ground-swell, hardly perceptible in the open sea, will break up a field -in a few hours. These fields sometimes acquire a rotary motion, which -gives their circumference a velocity of several miles an hour, producing -a tremendous shock when one impinges upon another. "A body of more than -ten thousand millions of tons in weight," says Dr. Scoresby, "meeting -with resistance when in motion, produces consequences scarcely possible -to conceive. The strongest ship is but an insignificant impediment -between two fields in motion."--Mr. Snow gives the following account of - - -TAKING THE FIRST ICE. - -"We had come so quickly and unexpectedly upon this "stream" (not having -seen it, owing to the thick weather, until close aboard of it), that -promptitude of decision and movement was absolutely necessary. It was -one of those moments when the _seaman_ comes forward, and by boldly -acting, either in the one way or the other, shows what he is made of. In -the present case the question instantly arose as to whether the vessel -should at once run through the ice now before her, or wait until clearer -and milder weather came. The mate, as ice-master, was asked by the -captain which, in his opinion, was best. He advised _heaving to, to -windward of it, and waiting_. The second mate was then asked; and he, -without knowing the other's opinion, strongly urged the necessity of -_running through at once_. Captain Forsyth, using his own judgment, very -wisely decided upon the latter, and accordingly run the ship on. And a -pretty sight, too, it was, as the "Prince Albert" under easy and working -sail, in a moment or two more entered the intricate channels that were -presented to her between numerous bergs and pieces of ice, rough and -smooth, large and small, new and old, dark and white. It was hazy -weather, snowing and raining at the time; and all hands having been -summoned on deck, were wrapped in their oil-skin dresses and waterproof -overcoats. Standing on the topsail-yard was the second mate conning the -ship; half-way up the weather rigging clung the captain, watching and -directing as necessary; while aft, on the raised counter near the wheel, -stood the chief mate telling the helmsman how to steer. This being the -first ice in any large and continuous quantity that we had met, I looked -at it with some curiosity. The moment we had entered within the outer -edge of the stream the water became as smooth as a common pond on -shore; and it was positively a pretty sight to see that little vessel -dodging in and out and threading her way among the numerous pieces of -ice that beset her proper and direct course. The ice itself presented a -most beautiful appearance both in color and form, being variegated in -every direction. We were soon in the very thick of it; and before five -minutes had elapsed from our first taking it we could see no apparent -means of either going on or retracing our steps. But it was well -managed, and after about an hour's turning hither and thither, this way -and that way, straight and crooked, we got fairly through, and found -clear water beyond. - -"Throughout the night the wind blew a complete hurricane, and the short -high sea was perfectly furious; lashing about in all directions with the -madness of a maelström, and with a violence that, apparently, nothing -could resist. Heavy squalls, with sharp sleet and snowstorms from the -southward, added to the fearful tempest that was raging. It was -impossible to see three miles ahead, the weather being so thick. -Occasionally an iceberg would dart out through the mist, heaving its -huge body up and down in frightful motion, now advancing, next receding, -and again approaching with any thing but pleasant proximity. Our little -vessel, however, as usual, stood it well. Could we have divested -ourselves of the reality of the scene, it might have been likened to a -fancy picture, in which some strange and curious dance was being -represented between the sea, the ice, and the ship; the latter, by the -aid of the former, gallantly lifting herself to, and then declining from -the other. But it was too real; and the greater danger of the land being -possibly near, was too strongly impressed upon our minds, to allow any -visionary feeling to possess us at the time. It was the worst and most -dangerous night we had yet had, and hardly a man on board rested quietly -below until the height of it was past." - -Soon after this a boat's crew was sent ashore for water, where in a -lonely spot they discovered the grave of an European, with an -inscription on a rude wooden tablet at its head, stating that "John -Huntley of Shetland, was buried there in August, 1847." The sailors -replaced the board which had blown down; and left the solitary grave, -with the humble tribute of a wish for the repose of the poor fellow's -soul. A few days later while on shore, Mr. Snow was spectator of the - - -OVERTURN OF AN ICEBERG. - -"I was speedily awakened to reality by a sudden noise like the cracking -of some mighty edifice of stone, or the bursting of several pieces of -ordnance. Ere the sound of that noise had vibrated on the air, a -succession of reports like the continued discharge of a heavy fire of -musketry, interspersed with the occasional roar of cannon, followed -quickly upon one another, for the space of perhaps two minutes; when, -suddenly, my eye was arrested by the oscillation of a moderate-sized -iceberg not far beneath my feet, in a line away from the hill I was -upon; and the next moment it tottered, and with a sidelong inclination, -cut its way into the bosom of the sea upon which it had before been -reclining. Roar upon roar pealed in echoes from the mountain heights on -every side: the wild seabird arose with fluttering wings and rapid -flight as it proceeded to a quarter where its quiet would be less -disturbed: the heretofore peaceful water presented the appearance of a -troubled ocean after a fierce gale of wind; and, amid the varied sounds -now heard, human voices from the boat came rising up on high in honest -English--strangely striking on the ear--hailing to know if I had seen -the 'turn,' and also whether I wanted them to join me. But an instant -had not passed before the mighty mass of snow and ice which had so -suddenly overturned, again presented itself above the water. This time, -however, it bore a different shape. The conical and rotten surface that -had been uppermost, when I had first noticed it, was gone, and a smooth, -table-like plane, from which streamed numerous cascades and _jets -d'eau_, was now visible. The former had sunk some hundred feet below, -when the 'berg,' reversing itself, had been overturned by its extreme -upper weight, and thus brought the bottom of it high above the level of -the sea." - -Northward, and still northward: thicker and more continuous grew the -ice-plains, while ever and anon a sound like the discharge of heavy -artillery booming along the lonely seas, announced that one iceberg -after another had burst amid this freezing arctic midsummer. They now -found that they were approaching the great Pack, where their labors were -properly to begin. Due preparations were made, by laying in order -ice-anchors, claws, and axes, getting tow-ropes, warps, and -tracking-belts in order for instant use, and - - -INSTALLING THE CROW'S NEST. - -"The 'Crow's Nest' is a light cask, or any similar object, appointed for -the look-out man aloft to shelter himself in, and is in large ships -generally at the _topmast_ head. In smaller vessels, however, it is -necessary to have it as high up as possible, in order to give from it a -greater scope of vision than could be attained lower down. Consequently, -in the _Prince Albert_ it was close to the 'fore-truck,' that is, -completely at the mast-head. In our case, it was a long, narrow, but -_light_ cask, having at the lower part of it a trap, acting like a -valve, whereby any one could enter; and was open at the upper part. In -length it was about four feet, so that a person on the look-out had no -part of himself exposed to the weather but his head and shoulders. In -the interior of it was a small seat, slung to the hinder part of the -cask, and a spyglass, well secured. To reach this, a rope ladder was -affixed to the bottom of it, as seen in the engraving. This is called -the 'Jacob's Ladder,' and the boatswain may be observed attaching the -lower parts of it to the foremast-head. Upon the top-gallant yard are -two men, busy in securing the cask to the mast, while the second mate is -inside trying its strength, and giving directions concerning it. The -'Crow's Nest' is a favorite place with many whaling captains, who are -rarely out of it for days when among the ice. I was very frequently in -it myself, fair weather or foul--from six to a dozen times a day--both -for personal gratification, and for the purpose of looking out. It was a -favorite spot with me at midnight, when the atmosphere was clear, and -the whole beauty of arctic scenery was exposed to view. It was all fresh -to me: I enjoyed it; and had enough to do, admiring the enormous masses -of ice we were passing, the white-topped mountains in the distance, and -the strange aspect of every thing around me. It seemed, as we slowly -threaded our way through the bergs, that we were about approaching some -great battle-field, in which we were to be actively engaged; and that we -were now, cautiously, passing through the various outposts of the mighty -encampment; at other times I could almost fancy we were about to enter -secretly, by the suburbs, some of those vast and wonderful cities whose -magnificent ruins throw into utter insignificance all the grandeur of -succeeding ages. Silently, and apparently without motion, did we glide -along, amidst dark hazy weather, rain, and enough wind to fill the sails -and steady them, but no more." - -Northward yet, and ever northward:--More frequent and massive grew the -icebergs among which the little "Prince Albert" threaded its way; while -far and near, to the east and north and west the eye met nothing but a -uniform dazzling whiteness shot up from the glittering ice-peaks. Now -and then a bear was seen, sitting a grim sentinel, by some seal-hole, -from which his prey was soon "expected out." As they advanced the ice -closed in around them, until at last they were fairly - - -[Illustration: SURROUNDED BY ICEBERGS.] - -"We were fairly 'in the ice:' but ice of which most readers have no -idea. The water frozen in our ponds and lakes at home is but as a mere -thin pane of glass in comparison to that which now came upon us. Fancy -before you miles and miles of a tabular icy rock eight feet or more, -solid, thick throughout, unbroken, or only by a single rent here and -there, not sufficient to separate the piece itself. Conceive this icy -rock to be in many parts of a perfectly even surface, but in others -covered with what might well be conceived as the ruins of a mighty city -suddenly destroyed by an earthquake, and the remains jumbled together in -one confused mass. Let there be also huge blocks of most fantastic form -scattered about upon this tabular surface, and in some places rising in -towering height, and in one apparently connected chain, far, far beyond -the sight. Take these in your view, and you will have some faint idea of -what was the kind of ice presented to my eye as I gazed upon it from -aloft. We had at last come to the part most dreaded by the daring and -adventurous whalers. _Melville's Bay_, often called, from its fearful -character, the 'Devil's Nip,' was opening to my view, and stretching -away far to the northward out of sight. But neither bay nor aught else, -except by knowledge of its position, could I discover. Every where was -ice; and the wonder to me was, how we were to get on at all through -such an apparently insurmountable barrier. - -"Our position now was becoming more and more confined as to sailing -room. The channel in which we had hitherto been quietly gliding, -narrowed till little better than the breadth of the ship. At 4^h 30^m -P.M. we could get no further, a barrier of 'hummocky' ice intervening -right across our passage between us and some open water, visible not -above seventy yards from us. Speedily the channel through which we had -come began to close, and after trying in vain to force our way through -the obstruction, we found ourselves at six o'clock completely beset. The -_Devil's Thumb_, which was now plainly visible, at this time bore S.E. -(compass) about thirty miles. Other land was also seen topping over -enormous glaciers, which were most wonderful to look at, and used to -entrance my gaze for hours. At six o'clock our actual labors in the ice -commenced. It was beginning to press upon us rather hard; and from the -appearance of that which blocked our way, it was evident there had been -a heavy squeeze here, and we were afraid of getting fixed in another. -Accordingly every effort was made to remove the obstacle which impeded -our passage. We first began to try and _heave_ the ship through by -attaching strong warps to ice anchors, which latter being fastened in -the solid floe, enabled a heavy strain to be put in force. The windlass -was then set to work, but to no purpose, as we hardly gained a fathom. -We next tried what heaving out the pieces that were in our way would do, -but this proved of no avail. The saws were then set to work to cut off -some angular projections that inconveniently pressed against our side; -and while this was being done, I sprung on to the hummocky pieces and -examined the difficulty. The obstacle, however, was not removed; and at -two in the morning a crack in the large floe to the westward of us was -observed to be gradually enlarging. In less than half an hour the water -appeared in larger quantities astern, and a 'lane' was opened, by a -circuitous route, into the clear space ahead of us, whither we wanted to -go. All hands were called to the ship, and the vessel's head turned -round to the southward, any further attempt to get through the channel -we had been working at being given up. Sail was made to a light breeze, -and some delicate manoeuvring had to be accomplished in getting the -ship round and in among some heavy ice, toward the passage we wished to -enter. - -"When I went on deck the next morning about eight, I found the weather -very thick, with heavy rain. Our position seemed to me but little -improved from that of the past night, for numerous 'bergs' of every size -and shape appeared to obstruct our path. A fresh breeze was blowing from -the S.E., and our ship was bounding nimbly to it in water as smooth as a -mill-pond. But no sooner did she get to the end of her course one way, -than she had to retrace her steps and try it another. We seemed -completely hemmed in on every side by heavy packed ice, rough uneven -hummocks, or a complete fleet of enormous bergs. Like a frightened hare -did the poor thing seem to fly, here, there, and every where, vainly -striving to escape from the apparent trap she had got into. It was a -strange and novel sight. For three or four hours--indeed ever since we -had entered this basin of water, we had been vainly striving to find -some passage out of it, in as near a direction as possible to our proper -course, but neither this way, nor any other way, nor even that in which -we had entered (for the passage had again suddenly closed), could we -find one. At last, about ten A.M., an opening between two large bergs -was discovered to the N.W. Without a moment's delay our gallant little -bark was pushed into it, and soon we found ourselves threading through a -complete labyrinth of ice rocks, if they may be so called, where the -very smallest of them, ay, or even a fragment from one of them, if -falling on us, would have splintered into ten thousand pieces the -gallant vessel that had thus thrust herself among them, and would have -buried her crew irretrievably. Wonderful indeed was it all. Numerous -lanes and channels, not unlike the paths and streets of a mighty city, -branched off in several directions; but our course was in those that led -us most to the northward. Onward we pursued our way in this manner for -about two hours, when, suddenly, on turning out of a passage between -some lofty bergs, we found the view opening to us, a field of ice -appearing at the termination of the channel, and at the extreme end a -schooner fast to a 'floe,' that is, lying alongside the flat ice, as by -a quay. The wind was fair for us, blowing a moderate breeze, so that we -soon ran down to her in saucy style, rounding to just ahead of her -position, and making fast in like manner. To our great joy we found -that, as we had suspected, and, indeed, knew, as soon as colors were -hoisted, it was indeed Sir John Ross in the 'Felix.' Glad was I of an -opportunity to see the gallant old veteran, whose name and writings had -latterly been so frequently before me. Directly we got on board, Sir -John Ross came to meet us; I saw before me him who, for four long years -and more, had been incarcerated, hopelessly, with his companions, in -those icy regions to which we ourselves were bound. I was struck with -astonishment! It was nothing, in comparison, for the young and robust to -come on such a voyage; but that _he_, at his time of life, when men -generally think it right--and right, perhaps, it is, too--to sit quietly -down at home by their own firesides, should brave the hardship and -danger once again, was indeed surprising. - -"In the evening both vessels had to move into another position, in -consequence of the bergs approaching too closely toward us. To watch -these mountain, icy monsters in a calm, as they slowly and silently, yet -surely and determinedly, move about in the narrow sheet of water by -which they chance to be encompassed, one could well imagine that it was -some huge mysterious thing, possessed of life, and bent on the fell -purpose of destruction. Onward it almost imperceptibly glides, until -reaching an opposing floe, it forces its way far through the solid ice, -plowing up the pieces and throwing them aside in hilly heaps with a -force and power apparently incredible. Should it happen that an impetus -is given to it by wind, or other causes besides those thus occasioned by -the tide, or current, it is mighty in its strength, and terrific in the -desolation it produces. Nothing can save a ship if thus caught by one, -as was the case in the memorable and fatal year of 1830, in this very -bay, when vessels were 'squeezed flat'--'reared up by the ice, almost in -the position of a rearing horse! others thrown fairly over on their -broadsides; and some actually overrun by the advancing floe and totally -buried by it.'" - -The obstructions presented by the ice continued to increase so that in a -whole fortnight, in spite of the most strenuous exertions, they made -only twelve miles in their northward course. And even this, as they -subsequently learned, was more than was performed by the government -expedition, which was five weeks in advancing thirty miles. On the third -of August, in Melville's Bay, night closed in upon - - -[Illustration: THE PRINCE ALBERT IN A DANGEROUS POSITION.] - -"There was still more danger now, on account of the heavier and worse -kind of ice about us. Several bergs and rugged hummocks were in very -close quarters to us. At four A.M. we had again to unship the rudder; -and this we could hardly do, in consequence of being completely beset. -The 'Felix,' was just ahead; but not a particle of water any where near -or around us could be seen. Several times both vessels were in extreme -danger; and once we sustained a rather heavy pressure, being canted over -on the starboard side most unpleasantly. But the 'Prince Albert' stood -it well; although it was painfully evident that should the heavy outer -floes still keep setting in upon those which inclosed us, nothing could -save her. To describe our position at this moment it will be only -necessary to observe that both vessels were as completely in the ice as -if they had been dropped into it from on high, and frozen there. It had -been impossible for me to sleep during the night in consequence of the -constant harsh grating sound that the floes caused as they slowly and -heavily moved along or _upon_ the ship's side, crushing their outer -edges with a most unpleasant noise close to my ear. My sleeping berth -was half under and half above the level of the water, when the ship was -on an even keel. In the morning I heard the grating sound still stronger -and close to me: I threw myself off the bed and went on deck. From the -deck, I jumped on to the ice, and had a look how it was serving the poor -little vessel. Under her stern I perceived large masses crushed up in a -frightful manner, and with terrific force, sufficient, I thought, to -have knocked her whole counter in. My only wonder was how she stood it; -but an explanation, independent of her own good strength, was soon -presented to me in the fact that the floe I was standing upon was moving -right round, and grinding in its progress all lesser pieces in its way. -This was the cause of safety to ourselves and the 'Felix.' Had the heavy -bodies of ice been impelled directly toward us, as we at first feared -they would be, instead of passing us in an angular direction, we should -both, most assuredly, have been crushed like an egg-shell. The very -_bergs_, or the _floating_ ones, near which we had been fast on the -previous day, were aiding in the impetus given by the tide or current to -the masses now in motion; and most providential was it that no wind was -blowing from the adverse quarter at the time, upon each side of the ship -the floes were solid and of great thickness, and pressing closely upon -her timbers. Under the bow, several rough pieces had been thrown up -nearly as high as the level of the bowsprit, and these were in constant -change, as the larger masses drove by them. - -"I ascended on deck, and found all the preparations for taking to the -ice, if necessary, renewed. Spirits of wine, for portable fuel, had been -drawn off, and placed handy; bags of bread, pemmican, &c., were all in -readiness; and nothing was wanting in the event of a too heavy squeeze -coming. We could perceive that, sooner or later, a collision between the -two floes, the one on our larboard and the other on our starboard side, -must take place, as the former had not nearly so much motion as the -latter; but where this collision would occur was impossible to say. -Between the 'Felix' and us, the passage was blocked principally by the -same sort of pieces that I have mentioned as lying under our bow; and -astern of us were several small bergs that might or might not be of -service in breaking the collision. Very fortunately they proved the -former; for, presently, I could perceive the floe on our starboard hand, -as it came flushing and grinding all near it, in its circular movement, -catch one of its extreme corners on a large block of ice a short -distance astern, and by the force of the pressure drive it into the -opposite floe, rending and tearing all before it; while at the same time -itself rebounded, as it were, or swerved on one side, and glided more -softly and with a relaxed pressure past us. This was the last trial of -the kind our little 'Prince' had to endure; for afterward a gradual -slackening of the whole body of ice took place, and at ten it opened to -the southward. We immediately shipped the rudder, and began heaving, -warping, and tracking the ship through the loose masses that lay in -that, the only direction for us now to pursue, if we wished to get clear -at all." - -On the 10th of August, as the sun, which now never sank below the -horizon, rose above a low-lying fog-bank; one of the government -expeditions was seen emerging from the mist. The expedition consisted of -two screw steamers, each having a sailing vessel in tow. A strange sight -it was to see these steamers--the first that ever burst into that silent -sea--gliding along amid the eternal ice of the arctic circle. They -proved of great service in breaking through the ice, dashing stem on -against the massy barriers; then backing astern, to gain headway, and -repeating the manoeuvre until a passage was forced. When the ice was -too thick to be broken in this manner, a hole was drilled in it, into -which a powder-cylinder was placed, the mine fired, and the fragments -dragged out by the steamers. The "Prince Albert" and "Felix" were taken -in tow, for some three hundred miles by the steamers. Mr. Snow gives the -following sketch and description of - - -[Illustration: THE ARCTIC DISCOVERY SHIPS AT MIDNIGHT.] - -"I have before made mention of the remarkable stillness which may be -observed at midnight in these regions; but not until now did it come -upon me with such force, and in such a singular manner. I can not -attempt to describe the mingled sensations I experienced, of constant -surprise and amazement at the extraordinary occurrence then taking place -in the waters I was gazing upon, and of renewed hope, mellowed into a -quiet, holy, and reverential feeling of gratitude toward that mighty -Being who, in this solemn silence, reigned alike supreme, as in the busy -hour of noon when man is eager at his toil, or the custom of the -civilized world gives to business active life and vigor. Save the -distant humming noise of the engine working on board of the steamer -towing us, there was no sound to be heard denoting the existence of any -living thing, or of any animate matter. Yet there we were, perceptibly, -nay, rapidly, gliding past the land and floes of ice, as though some -secret and mysterious power had been set to work to carry us swiftly -away from those vexatious, harassing, and delaying portions of our -voyage, in which we had already experienced so much trouble and -perplexity. The leading vessels had passed all the parts where any -further difficulty might have been apprehended, and this of course gave -to us in the rear a sense of perfect security for the present. All -hands, therefore, except the middle watch on deck, were below in our -respective vessels; and, as I looked forward ahead of us, and beheld the -long line of masts and rigging that rose up from each ship before me, -without any sail set, or any apparent motion to propel such masses -onward, and without a single human voice to be heard around, it did seem -something wonderful and amazing! And yet, it was a noble sight: six -vessels were casting their long shadows across the smooth surface of the -passing floes of ice, as the sun, with mellowed light, and gentler, but -still beautiful lustre, was soaring through the polar sky, at the back -of Melville's Cape. Ay, in truth it was a noble sight; and well could I -look upward to the streaming pendant of my own dear country that hung -listlessly from the mast-head of the 'Assistance,' and feel the highest -satisfaction in my breast that I, too, was one of her children, and -could boast myself of being born on her own free soil, under her own -revered and idolized flag. But even as I beheld that listless symbol of -my country's name, pendant from the lofty truck, my glance was directed -higher; and as it caught the pale blue firmament of heaven, still in -this midnight hour divested of star or moon that shine by night, and -brightened by the sun; my heart breathed a prayer that He, who dwells -far beyond the ken of mortal eye, would deign to grant that the attempt -now making should not be made in vain, but that those whom we were now -on our way to seek might be found and restored to their home and -sorrowing friends; and that, until then, full support and strength might -be afforded them." - -After parting company with the other vessels, the "Prince Albert" stood -on her way westward, until they almost reached the spot where it had -been proposed to winter, and where the design of the expedition would -begin to be put in execution. But they found the harbor which they had -proposed to enter blocked up with ice; and so unaccountable a -discouragement came over the expedition, that on the 22d of August a -sudden resolution was taken to return forthwith. The Journal of Mr. Snow -is extremely guarded as to the reasons for this determination. The -vessel had performed admirably; every preparation had been made for -wintering; they were provisioned for two years; the crew were in -excellent health: and yet the whole expedition, which had been fitted -out at such a sacrifice, was abandoned, almost before it was fairly -begun. We are led to infer that the true reason was that the officers in -command had not the cool, determined courage requisite for such a -charge. But we are sure that such a deficiency can not be laid to the -charge of our author. From this time forth a tone of deep and bitter -chagrin runs through the Journal at this inglorious termination of the -expedition. It was no small addition to this feeling of intense -mortification, that on the very day when they determined to abandon the -enterprise, and return home, the American Expedition fitted out by Mr. -GRINNELL, which they had seen, a fortnight before, blocked up by ice, as -they supposed, in Melville's Bay, but which had now overtaken them, -notwithstanding their own tow by the steamers, was seen boldly pressing -its way where they themselves dared not follow. Notwithstanding this -feeling of mortification, Mr. Snow has too intense a sympathy with -daring and courage, ennobled by high and philanthropic purpose, to fail -to do ample justice to - - -THE AMERICAN RELIEF EXPEDITION. - -"Large pieces of ice were floating about, and setting rapidly up the -inlet. We had to stand away for some distance, to round the edge of this -stream; and as we approached the far end, we perceived that a vessel, -which we had some time before seen, was apparently standing right in -toward us. At first, we took her to be Sir John Ross's schooner, the -'Felix,' but a few moments more settled the point, by her size and rig -being different, and her colors being displayed, which proved her to be -one of the 'Americans!' All idea of sleep was now instantly banished -from me. The American vessels already up here, when we had fancied them -still in Melville's Bay, not far from where we had left them on the 6th -instant! Much as I knew of the enterprising and daring spirit of our -transatlantic brethren, I could not help being astonished. They must -have had either some extraordinary luck, or else the ice had suddenly -and most effectually broken up to admit of their exit, unaided by steam -or other help, in so short a time. I felt, however, a pleasure in thus -finding my repeated observations concerning them so thoroughly verified; -and I was not sorry for themselves that they were here. All exclusive -nationality was done away with. We were all engaged in the same noble -cause; we were all striving forward in the same animating and exciting -race, and none should envy the other his advance therein. We showed our -colors to him; and Captain Forsyth immediately determined to go on board -of him, and see whether the same plan of search for him was laid out as -for us. The boat was lowered, and in a short time we were standing on -the deck of the 'Advance,' Lieutenant De Haven, of the American Navy, -and most cordially received, with their accustomed hospitality, by our -transatlantic friends. - -"The 'Advance' was most extraordinarily fortified to resist any pressure -of the ice, and to enable her to force her way against such impediments -as those she encountered this evening. Her bow was one solid mass of -timber--I believe I am right in saying, from the foremast. Her timbers -were increased in size and number, so that she might well be said to -have been doubled inside as well as out. Her deck was also doubled, then -felted, and again lined inside, while her cabin had, in addition, a -sheathing of cork. The after-part of the vessel was remarkably strong; -and a movable bulk-head, which ran across the forepart of the cabin, -could at any time be unshipped to afford a free communication fore and -aft when needed. The crew, if I remember rightly, lived in a strongly -built 'round-house' on deck, amidships, one end of which was converted -into a cook-house, called a 'galley,' and another the 'pantry.' -_Ten_ men formed the number of the working seamen; there were no -'ice-masters,' nor regular 'ice-men:' but most of the sailors were long -accustomed to the ice. A steward and a cook completed the full -complement of the ship. The officers lived in a truly republican manner. -The whole cabin was thrown into one spacious room, in which captain, -mates, and surgeon lived together. Their sleeping berths were built -around it, and appeared to possess every accommodation to make them -comfortable. - -"The 'Advance' was one of two vessels (the other being the 'Rescue'--a -smaller craft) that had been bought and fitted out in the most noble and -generous manner, solely by one individual--HENRY GRINNELL, Esq., a -merchant of New York. This truly great and good man had long felt his -heart yearn toward the lost ones, whom we were now seeking, and their -friends; and desiring to redeem the partial pledge given by the -government of the United States to Lady Franklin, he yielded to the -strong impulses awakened by some of her private letters, which he had -had the opportunity of reading, and being blest with an ample fortune, -he determined to employ no small portion of it in sending out at his own -expense an expedition to this quarter of the world, to aid in the search -that England was making this year after her gallant children. It -required, however, not a trifling sum to accomplish this, and I well -know with what distrust and doubt of its fulfillment the first notice of -his intentions was received in New York and elsewhere, when publicly -made known. But he was not a man, it has appeared, to promise what he -means not, or can not perform. At a very heavy outlay he purchased two -vessels, one of, I believe, 125 tons, and the other of 95 tons, and had -them strengthened and prepared in a most efficient manner for the -service they were to enter upon. Applying to Congress, then assembled, -he got these ships received into the naval force, and brought under -naval authority. Officers and crews were appointed by the Board of -Administration for Maritime Affairs, and the government, moreover, -agreed to pay them as if in regular service, making an additional -allowance on each pay, of a grade in rank above. This having been -accomplished, and all things in readiness, on the 24th of May, 1850, he -had the satisfaction of seeing his two ships and their brave crews -depart from New York on their generous mission. He accompanied them -himself for some distance, and finally bid them farewell on the 26th, -returning in his yacht to the city, where, as he has often declared, he -can sit down now in peace, and be ready to lay his head at rest forever; -knowing that he has done his duty, and striven to perform the part of a -faithful steward with the wealth which he enjoys. - -"The 'Advance' was manned by sixteen persons, officers included. Her -commander, Lieutenant De Haven, a young man of about twenty-six years of -age, had served in the United States exploring expedition, under -Commodore Wilkes, in the Antarctic Seas. He seemed as fine a specimen of -a seaman, and a rough and ready officer, as I had ever seen. Nor was he -at all deficient in the characteristics of a true gentleman, although -the cognomen is so often misapplied and ill-understood. With a sharp, -quick eye, a countenance bronzed and apparently inured to all weathers, -his voice gave unmistakable signs of energy, promptitude, and decision. -There was no mistaking the man. He was undoubtedly well-fitted to lead -such an expedition, and I felt charmed to see it. - -"His second in command (for they were very differently organized from -us) was still younger and more slim, but withal of equally determined -and sailorlike appearance. Next to him was a junior officer, of whom I -saw but little; but that little was enough to tell me that the -executives under Captain De Haven would be efficient auxiliaries to him. -Last of all, though not least among them, was one of whom I must be -excused for saying more than a casual word or two. It was Dr. Kane, the -surgeon, naturalist, journalist, &c., of the expedition. Of an -exceedingly slim and apparently fragile form and make, and with features -to all appearance far more suited to a genial clime, and to the comforts -of a pleasant home, than to the roughness and hardships of an arctic -voyage, he was yet a very old traveler both by sea and land. His rank as -a surgeon in the American navy, and his appointment, at three days' -notice, to this service, were sufficient proof of his abilities, and of -his being considered capable of enduring all that would have to be gone -through. While our captain was talking to the American commander, Dr. -Kane turned his attention to me, and a congeniality of sentiment and -feeling soon brought us deep into pleasant conversation. I found he had -been in many parts of the world, by sea and land, that I myself had -visited, and in many other parts that I could only long to visit. Old -scenes and delightful recollections were speedily revived. Our talk ran -wild; and _there_, in that cold, inhospitable, dreary region of -everlasting ice and snow, did we again, in fancy, gallop over miles and -miles of lands far distant, and far more joyous. Ever-smiling Italy, and -its softening life; sturdy Switzerland, and its hardy sons; the Alps, -the Apennines, France, Germany, and elsewhere were rapidly wandered -over. India, Africa, and Southern America were brought before us in -swift succession. Then came Spain and Portugal, and my own England; next -appeared Egypt, Syria, and the Desert; with all of these was he -personally familiar, in all had he been a traveler, and in all could I -join him, too, except the latter. Rich in anecdote and full of pleasing -talk, time flew rapidly as I conversed with him, and partook of the -hospitality offered me. Delighted at the knowledge that I had been -residing for some time in New York, he tried all he could to make me -enjoy the moment." - -After parting with the American Expedition, the "Prince Albert" took her -homeward way, reaching Aberdeen on the 1st of October. "As it was quite -dark," says Mr. Snow, "few witnessed our arrival, and I was not sorry -for it". Had we returned fortunate, it would have been different; as it -was, why, the night was, I thought, better suited to our condition. The -"Prince Albert" brought the latest tidings received of the "Advance" and -"Rescue," when - - -BROTHER JONATHAN GIVES JOHN BULL "A LEAD." - -"If I had ever before doubted the daring and enterprising character of -the American, what I saw and heard on board of the 'Advance' would have -removed such doubt; but these peculiar features in the children of the -Stars and Stripes were always apparent to me, and admiringly -acknowledged. I was given a brief history of their voyage to the present -time, as also an outline of their future plans. They intended to push on -wherever they could, this way or that way, as might be found best, in -the direction of Melville Island, and parts adjacent, especially Banks's -Land; and they meant to winter wherever they might chance to be, in the -Pack or out of the Pack. As long as they could be moving or making any -progress, in any direction that might assist in the object for which -they had come, they meant still to be going on, and, with the true -characteristic of the American, cared for no obstacles or impediments -that might arise in their way. Neither fears, nor the necessary caution -which might easily be alleged as an excuse for hesitation or delay, at -periods when any thing like fancied danger appeared, was to deter them. -Happy fellows! thought I: no fair winds nor opening prospects will be -lost with you; no dissension or incompetency among your executive -officers exist to stay your progress. Bent upon one errand alone, your -minds set upon _that_ before you embarked, no trifles nor common -danger will prevent you daring every thing for the carrying out of your -mission. Go on, then, brave sons of America, and may at least some share -of prosperity and success attend your noble exertions! - -"If ever a vessel and her officers were capable of going through an -undertaking in which more than ordinary difficulties had to be -encountered, I had no doubt it would be the American; and this was -evinced to me, even while we were on board, by the apparently reckless -way in which they dashed through the streams of heavy ice running off -from Leopold Island. I happened to go on deck when they were thus -engaged, and was delighted to witness how gallantly they put aside every -impediment in their way. An officer was standing on the heel of the -bowsprit, conning the ship and issuing his orders to the man at the -wheel in that short, decisive, yet _clear_ manner, which the helmsman at -once well understood and promptly obeyed. There was not a rag of canvas -taken in, nor a moment's hesitation. The way was before them: the stream -of ice had to be either gone through boldly or a long _detour_ made; -and, despite the heaviness of the stream, _they pushed the vessel -through in her proper course_. Two or three shocks, as she came in -contact with some large pieces, were unheeded; and the moment the last -block was past the bow, the officer sung out, 'So: steady as she goes on -her course;' and came aft as if nothing more than ordinary sailing had -been going on. I observed our own little barky nobly following in the -American's wake; and, as I afterward learned, she got through it pretty -well, though not without much doubt of the propriety of keeping on in -such procedure after the 'mad Yankee,' as he was called by our mate." - - - - -WHAT BECOMES OF ALL THE PINS? - - -Every body uses pins--men, women, and children. Every body buys them. -Every body bends them, breaks them, knocks off their heads, and loses -them. They enter into every operation, from the drawing-room to the -scullery. Go where you will, if you look sharp, you may calculate with -certainty on picking up a pin--in the streets, in the cabs, on -door-steps and mats, in halls and drawing-rooms, sticking in curtains -and sofas, and paper-hangings, in counting-houses and lawyers' offices, -keeping together old receipts and bills, and fragments of papers, in -ladies' needlework, in shopkeepers' parcels, in books, bags, baskets, -luggage--they are to be found every where, let them get there how -they may, by accident or design. Their ubiquity is astounding--and their -manufacture, being in proportion to it, must be something prodigious. -There is no article of perpetual use with which we are so familiar; and -out of this familiarity springs indifference, for there is no article -about whose final destination we are so profoundly ignorant. We know -well enough the end of things (not half so useful to us) that wear out -in the course of time, or that are liable to be smashed, cracked, -chipped, put out of order, or otherwise rendered unavailable for further -service; but of the fate of this little article, so universal in its -application, so indispensable in its utility, we know nothing whatever. -Nobody ever thinks of asking, WHAT BECOMES OF THE PINS? For our -own parts, we should be very glad to get an answer to that question, and -should be very much obliged to any person who could furnish us with it. - -The question is by no means an idle one. If we could get at the -statistics of pins, we should have some tremendous revelations. The loss -in pins, strayed, stolen, and mislaid, is past all calculation. Millions -of billions of pins must vanish--no woman alive can tell how or -where--in the course of a year. Of the actual number fabricated, -pointed, headed, and papered up for sale from one year's end to another -(remember they are to be found in every house, large and small, within -the pale of civilization), we should be afraid to venture a conjecture; -but, judging from what we know of their invincible tendency to lose -themselves, and our own inveterate carelessness in losing them, we -apprehend that, could such a return be obtained, it would present an -alarming result. Think of millions of billions of pins being in course -of perpetual disappearance! And that this has been going on for -centuries and centuries, and will continue to go on, probably, to the -world's end. A grave matter to contemplate, my masters! A pin, in its -single integrity, is a trifle, atomic, in comparison with other things -that are lost and never found again. But reflect for a moment upon pins -in the aggregate. The grand sum-total of human life is made up of -trifles--all large bodies are composed of minute particles. Years are -made up of months, months of weeks, weeks of days, days of hours, hours -of minutes, minutes of seconds; and, coming down to the seconds, and -calling in the multiplication-table to enlighten us, we shall find that -there are considerably upward of thirty-one millions of them in a year. -Try a similar experiment with the pins. Assume any given quantity of -loss in any given time, and calculate what it will come to in a cycle of -centuries. Most people are afraid of looking into the future, and would -not, if they could, acquire a knowledge of the destiny that lies before -them. Pause, therefore, before you embark in this fearful calculation; -for the chances are largely in favor of your arriving at this harrowing -conclusion, that, by the mere force of accumulation and the inevitable -pressure of quantity, the great globe itself must, at no very distant -period, become a vast shapeless mass of pins. - -As yet we have no signs or tokens of this impending catastrophe, and are -entirely in the dark about the process that is insidiously conducting us -to it; and hence we ask, in solemn accents, WHAT BECOMES OF THE PINS? -Where do they go to? How do they get there? What are the attractive and -repulsive forces to which they are subject after they drop from us? What -are the laws that govern their wanderings? Do they dissolve and -volatilize, and come back again into the air, so that we are breathing -pins without knowing it? Do they melt into the earth, and go to the -roots of vegetables, so that every day of our lives we are unconsciously -dining on them? The inquiry baffles all scholarship; and we are forced -to put up with the obscure satisfaction which Hamlet applies to the -world of apparitions, that there are more pins in unknown places and -unsuspected shapes upon the earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. - - - - -LAMARTINE ON THE RELIGION OF REVOLUTIONARY MEN. - - -I know--I sigh when I think of it--that hitherto the French people have -been the least religious of all the nations of Europe. Is it because the -idea of God--which arises from all the evidences of Nature, and from the -depths of reflection, being the profoundest and weightiest idea of which -human intelligence is capable--and the French mind being the most rapid, -but the most superficial, the lightest, the most unreflective of all -European races--this mind has not the force and severity necessary to -carry far and long the greatest conception of the human understanding? - -Is it because our governments have always taken upon themselves to think -for us, to believe for us, and to pray for us? Is it because we are and -have been a military people, a soldier-nation, led by kings, heroes, -ambitious men, from battlefield to battlefield, making conquests, and -never keeping them, ravaging, dazzling, charming, and corrupting Europe; -and bringing home the manners, vices, bravery, lightness, and impiety of -the camp to the fireside of the people? - -I know not, but certain it is that the nation has an immense progress to -make in serious thought if she wishes to remain free. If we look at the -characters, compared as regards religious sentiment, of the great -nations of Europe, America, even Asia, the advantage is not for us. The -great men of other countries live and die on the scene of history, -looking up to heaven; our great men appear to live and die, forgetting -completely the only idea for which it is worth living and dying--they -live and die looking at the spectator, or, at most, at posterity. - -Open the history of America, the history of England, and the history of -France; read the great lives, the great deaths, the great martyrdoms, -the great words at the hour when the ruling thought of life reveals -itself in the last words of the dying--and compare. - -Washington and Franklin fought, spoke, suffered, ascended, and descended -in their political life of popularity in the ingratitude of glory, in -the contempt of their fellow-citizens--always in the name of God, for -whom they acted; and the liberator of America died, confiding to God the -liberty of the people and his own soul. - -Sidney, the young martyr of a patriotism, guilty of nothing but -impatience, and who died to expiate his country's dream of liberty, said -to his jailer--"I rejoice that I die innocent toward the king, but a -victim, resigned to the King on High, to whom all life is due." - -The Republicans of Cromwell only sought the way of God, even in the -blood of battles. Their politics were their faith--their reign a -prayer--their death a psalm. One hears, sees, feels, that God was in all -the movements of these great people. - -But cross the sea, traverse La Mancha, come to our times, open our -annals, and listen to the last words of the great political actors of -the drama of our liberty. One would think that God was eclipsed from the -soul, that His name was unknown in the language. History will have the -air of an atheist, when she recounts to posterity these annihilations, -rather than deaths, of celebrated men in the greatest year of France! -The victims only have a God; the tribunes and lictors have none. - -Look at Mirabeau on the bed of death--"Crown me with flowers," said he; -"intoxicate me with perfumes. Let me die to the sound of delicious -music"--not a word of God or of his soul. Sensual philosopher, he -desired only supreme sensualism, a last voluptuousness in his agony. -Contemplate Madame Roland, the strong-hearted woman of the Revolution, -on the cart that conveyed her to death. She looked contemptuously on the -besotted people who killed their prophets and sibyls. Not a glance -toward heaven! Only one word for the earth she was quitting--"Oh, -Liberty!" - -Approach the dungeon door of the Girondins. Their last night is a -banquet; the only hymn, the Marseillaise! - -Follow Camille Desmoulins to his execution. A cool and indecent -pleasantry at the trial, and a long imprecation on the road to the -guillotine, were the two last thoughts of this dying man on his way to -the last tribunal. - -Hear Danton on the platform of the scaffold, at the distance of a line -from God and eternity. "I have had a good time of it; let me go to -sleep." Then to the executioner, "you will show my head to the -people--it is worth the trouble!" His faith, annihilation; his last -sigh, vanity. Behold the Frenchman of this latter age! - -What must one think of the religious sentiment of a free people whose -great figures seem thus to march in procession to annihilation, and to -whom that terrible minister--death--itself recalls neither the -threatenings nor promises of God! - -The republic of these men without a God has quickly been stranded. The -liberty, won by so much heroism and so much genius, has not found in -France a conscience to shelter it, a God to avenge it, a people to -defend it against that atheism which has been called glory. All ended in -a soldier and some apostate republicans travestied into courtiers. An -atheistic republicanism can not be heroic. When you terrify it, it -bends; when you would buy it, it sells itself. It would be very foolish -to immolate itself. Who would take any heed? the people ungrateful and -God non-existent! So finish atheist revolutions!--_Bien Publique._ - - - - -[From Dickens's Household Words.] - -THOMAS HARLOWE. - - - All amid the summer roses - In his garden, with his wife, - Sate the cheerful Thomas Harlowe, - Glancing backward through his life. - - Woodlarks in the trees were singing, - And the breezes, low and sweet, - Wafted down laburnum blossoms, - Like an offering, at his feet. - - There he sate, good Thomas Harlowe, - Living o'er the past in thought; - And old griefs, like mountain summits, - Golden hues of sunset caught. - - Thus he spake: "The truest poet - Is the one whose touch reveals - Those deep springs of human feeling - Which the conscious heart conceals. - - "Human nature's living fountains, - Ever-flowing, round us lie, - Yet the poets seek their waters - As from cisterns old and dry. - - "Hence they seldom write, my Ellen, - Aught so full of natural woe, - As that song which thy good uncle - Made so many years ago. - - "My sweet wife, my life's companion, - Canst thou not recall the time - When we sate beneath the lilacs, - Listening to that simple rhyme? - - "I was then just five-and-twenty, - Young in years, but old in sooth; - Hopeless love had dimmed my manhood, - Care had saddened all my youth. - - "But that touching, simple ballad, - Which thy uncle writ and read, - Like the words of God, creative, - Gave a life unto the dead. - - "And thenceforth have been so blissful - All our days, so calm, so bright, - That it seems like joy to linger - O'er my young life's early blight. - - "Easy was my father's temper, - And his being passed along - Like a streamlet 'neath the willows, - Lapsing to the linnet's song. - - "With the scholar's tastes and feelings, - He had all he asked of life - In his books and in his garden, - In his child, and gentle wife. - - "He was for the world unfitted; - For its idols knew no love; - And, without the serpent's wisdom - Was as guileless as the dove. - - "Such men are the schemer's victims. - Trusting to a faithless guide, - He was lured on to his ruin, - And a hopeless bankrupt died. - - "Short had been my father's sorrow; - He had not the strength to face - What was worse than altered fortune, - Or than faithless friends--disgrace. - - "He had not the strength to combat - Through the adverse ranks of life; - In his prime he died, heart-broken, - Leaving unto us the strife. - - "I was then a slender stripling, - Full of life, and hope, and joy; - But, at once, the cares of manhood - Crushed the spirit of the boy. - - "Woman oft than man is stronger - Where are inner foes to quell, - And my mother rose triumphant, - When my father, vanquished, fell. - - "All we had we gave up freely, - That on him might rest less blame; - And, without a friend in London, - In the winter, hither came. - - "To the world-commanding London, - Came as atoms, nothing worth; - 'Mid the strift of myriad workers, - Our small efforts to put forth. - - "Oh, the hero-strength of woman, - When her strong affection pleads, - When she tasks her to endurance - In the path where duty leads! - - "Fair my mother was and gentle, - Reared 'mid wealth, of good descent, - One who, till our time of trial, - Ne'er had known what hardship meant. - - "Now she toiled. Her skillful needle - Many a wondrous fabric wrought, - Which the loom could never equal, - And which wealthy ladies bought. - - "Meantime I, among the merchants - Found employment; saw them write, - Brooding over red-lined ledgers, - Ever gain, from morn till night. - - "Or amid the crowded shipping - Of the great world's busy hive, - Saw the wealth of both the Indies, - For their wealthier marts, arrive - - "So we lived without repining, - Toiling, toiling, week by week; - But I saw her silent sufferings - By the pallor of her cheek. - - "Love like mine was eagle sighted; - Vainly did she strive to keep - All her sufferings from my knowledge, - And to lull my fears to sleep. - - "Well I knew her days were numbered; - And, as she approached her end, - Stronger grew the love between us, - Doubly was she parent--friend! - - "God permitted that her spirit - Should through stormy floods be led, - That she might converse with angels - While she toiled for daily bread. - - "Wondrous oft were her communings, - As of one to life new-born, - When I watched beside her pillow, - 'Twixt the midnight and the morn. - - "Still she lay through one long Sabbath, - But as evening closed she woke, - And like one amazed with sorrow, - Thus with pleading voice she spoke: - - "'God will give whate'er is needful; - Will sustain from day to day; - This I know--yet worldly fetters - Keep me still a thrall to clay! - - "'Oh, my son, from these world-shackles - Only thou canst set me free!' - 'Speak thy wish,' said I, 'my mother, - Lay thy lov'd commands on me!' - - "As if strength were given unto her - For some purpose high, she spake: - 'I have toiled, and--like a miser-- - Hoarded, hoarded for thy sake. - - "'Not for sordid purpose hoarded, - But to free from outward blame, - From the tarnish of dishonor, - Thy dead father's sacred name, - - "'And I lay on thee this duty-- - 'Tis my last request, my son-- - Lay on thee this solemn duty - Which I die and leave undone! - - "'Promise, that thy dearest wishes, - Pleasure, profit, shall be naught, - Until, to the utmost farthing, - Thou this purpose shalt have wrought!' - - "And I promised. All my being - Freely, firmly answered, yea! - Thus absolved, her angel-spirit, - Breathing blessings, passed away. - - "Once more in the noisy, jostling - Human crowd; I seemed to stand, - Like to him who goes to battle, - With his life within his hand. - - "All things wore a different aspect; - I was now mine own no more: - Pleasure, wealth, the smile of woman - All a different meaning bore. - - "Thus I toiled--though young, not youthful - Ever mingling in the crowd, - Yet apart; my life, my labor, - To a solemn purpose vowed. - - "Yet even duty had its pleasure, - And I proudly kept apart; - Lord of all my weaker feelings; - Monarch of my subject heart. - - "Foolish boast! My pride of purpose - Proved itself a feeble thing, - When thy uncle brought me hither, - In the pleasant time of Spring. - - "Said he, 'Thou hast toiled too closely; - Thou shalt breathe our country air; - Thou shalt come to us on Sundays, - And thy failing health repair!' - - "Now began my hardest trial. - What had I with love to do? - Loving thee was sin 'gainst duty, - And 'gainst thy good uncle too! - - "Until now my heart was cheerful; - Duty had been light till now, - --Oh that I were free to woo thee; - That my heart had known no vow! - - "Yet, I would not shrink from duty; - Nor my vow leave unfulfilled! - --Still, still, had my mother known thee, - Would she thus have sternly willed? - - "Wherefore did my angel-mother - Thus enforce her dying prayer? - --Yet what right had I to seek thee, - Thou, thy uncle's wealthy heir! - - "Thus my spirit cried within me; - And that inward strife began, - That wild warfare of the feelings - Which lays waste the life of man. - - "In such turmoil of the spirit, - Feeble is our human strength; - Life seems stripped of all its glory: - --Yet was duty lord at length. - - "So at least I deemed. But meeting - Toward the pleasant end of May - With thy uncle, here he brought me, - I who long had kept away. - - "He was willful, thy good uncle; - I was such a stranger grown; - I must go to hear the reading - Of a ballad of his own. - - "Willing to be won, I yielded. - Canst thou not that eve recall, - When the lilacs were in blossom, - And the sunshine lay o'er all? - - "On the bench beneath the lilacs, - Sate we; and thy uncle read - That sweet, simple, wondrous ballad, - Which my own heart's woe portrayed. - - "'Twas a simple tale of nature-- - Of a lowly youth who gave - All his heart to one above him, - Loved, and filled an early grave. - - "But the fine tact of the poet - Laid the wounded spirit bare, - Breathed forth all the silent anguish - Of the breaking heart's despair. - - "'Twas as if my soul had spoken, - And at once I seemed to know, - Through the poet's voice prophetic, - What the issue of my woe. - - "Later, walking in the evening - Through the shrubbery, thou and I, - With the woodlarks singing round us, - And the full moon in the sky; - - "Thou, my Ellen, didst reproach me, - For that I had coldly heard - That sweet ballad of thy uncle's, - Nor responded by a word. - - "Said I, 'If that marvelous ballad - Did not seem my heart to touch; - It was not from want of feeling, - But because it felt too much.' - - "And even as the rod of Moses - Called forth water from the rock; - So did now thy sweet reproaches - All my secret heart unlock. - - "And my soul lay bare before thee; - And I told thee all; how strove, - As in fierce and dreary conflict, - My stern duty and my love. - - "All I told thee--of my parents, - Of my angel-mother's fate; - Of the vow by which she bound me; - Of my present low estate. - - "All I told thee, while the woodlarks - Filled with song the evening breeze, - And bright gushes of the moonlight - Fell upon us through the trees. - - "And thou murmured'st, oh! my Ellen, - In a voice so sweet and low; - 'Would that I had known thy mother. - Would that I might soothe thy woe!' - - "Ellen, my sweet, life's companion! - From my being's inmost core - Then I blessed thee; but I bless thee, - Bless thee, even now, still more! - - "For, as in the days chivalric - Ladies armed their knights for strife, - So didst thou, with thy true counsel, - Arm me for the fight of life. - - "Saidst thou, 'No, thou must not waver, - Ever upright must thou stand: - Even in duty's hardest peril, - All thy weapons in thy hand. - - "'Doing still thy utmost, utmost; - Never resting till thou'rt free!-- - But, if e'er thy soul is weary, - Or discouraged--think of me!' - - "And again thy sweet voice murmured, - In a low and thrilling tone; - 'I have loved thee, truly loved thee, - Though that love was all unknown! - - "'And the sorrows and the trials - Which thy youth in bondage hold, - Make thee to my heart yet dearer - Than if thou hadst mines of gold! - - "'Go forth--pay thy debt to duty; - And when thou art nobly free, - He shall know, my good old uncle, - Of the love 'twixt thee and me!' - - "Ellen, thou wast my good angel! - Once again in life I strove-- - But the hardest task was easy, - In the light and strength of love. - - "And, when months had passed on swiftly, - Canst thou not that hour recall-- - 'Twas a Christmas Sabbath evening-- - When we told thy uncle all? - - "Good old uncle! I can see him, - With those calm and loving eyes, - Smiling on us as he listened, - Silent, yet with no surprise. - - "And when once again the lilacs - Blossom'd, in the merry May, - And the woodlarks sang together, - Came our happy marriage day. - - "My sweet Ellen, then I blessed thee - As my young and wealthy wife, - But I knew not half the blessings - With which thou wouldst dower my life!" - - Here he ceased, good Thomas Harlowe; - And as soon as ceased his voice-- - That sweet chorusing of woodlarks - Made the silent night rejoice. - - - - -[From Fraser's Magazine.] - -PHANTOMS AND REALITIES.--AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. - - (_Continued from Page 468._) - - - - -PART THE FIRST--MORNING. - - -VII. - -"I am not about to relate a family history," he began; "but there are -some personal circumstances to which I must allude. At nineteen, I was -left the sole protector of two sisters, and of a ward of my father, -whose guardianship also devolved upon me. It was a heavy responsibility -at so early an age, and pressed hard upon a temperament better adapted -for gayety and enjoyment. I discharged it, however, with the best -judgment I could, and with a zeal that has bequeathed me, among many -grateful recollections, one source of lasting and bitter repentance." - -"Repentance, Forrester?" I cried, involuntarily. - -"You may understand the sort of dangers to which these young creatures -were exposed in the spring-tide of their beauty, protected only by a -stripling, who knew little more of the world than they did themselves. -Upon that point, perhaps, I was too sensitive. I knew what it was to -struggle against the natural feelings of youth, and was not disposed to -place much trust in the gad-flies who gathered about my sisters. Well--I -watched every movement, and I was right. Yet, with all my care, it so -happened that an offense--an insult such as your heartless libertines -think they may inflict with impunity on unprotected women--was offered -to one of my sisters. Our friendless situation was a mark for general -observation, and it was necessary that society should know the terms I -kept with it. My enemy--for I made him so on the instant--would have -appeased me, but I was inaccessible to apologies. We met; I was wounded -severely--my opponent fell. This fearful end of the quarrel affected my -sister's health. She had a feeling of remorse about being the cause of -that man's death, and her delicate frame sunk under it." - -"Perhaps," said I, "there might have been other feelings, which she -concealed." - -"That fear has cast a shadow over my whole life. But we will not talk of -it. I must hasten on. There was a fatal malady in our family--the -treacherous malady which is fed so luxuriously by the climate of -England. My remaining sister, plunged into grief at our bereavement, -became a prey to its wasting and insidious influence. You saw that the -servant who opened the door was in mourning? I have mentioned these -particulars that you may understand I was not alone in the world, as I -am now, when the lady you have seen came to reside in my house. At that -time, my sisters were living." - -"And she?" - -"Was my father's ward, of whom I have spoken. During the early part of -her life she lived in Scotland, where she had friends. Now listen to me -attentively. Gertrude Hastings lost her mother in her childhood; and -upon the death of her father, being a minor, her education and -guardianship devolved upon my father, who was trustee to her fortune. At -his death, which took place soon afterward, the trust came into my -hands. It was thought advisable, under these circumstances, that she -should have the benefit of wiser counsel than my own, and for several -years she was placed in the house of her mother's sister, who lived at -no great distance from the English Border. It was my duty to visit her -sometimes." He hesitated, and his voice trembled as he spoke. - -"Well--I entreat you to proceed." - -"Let me collect myself. I visited her sometimes--at first at long -intervals, then more frequently. Every man in his youth forms some -ideal, false or true, of the woman to whom he would devote his love. -Such dreams visited me, but my situation forbade me to indulge in them, -and I resolved to devote myself to the charge I had undertaken, and to -forego all thoughts of marriage. I never found this conflict beyond my -strength until I saw Gertrude Hastings." - -I was struck with horror at these words, and shuddered at what I feared -was yet to come. He perceived the effect they took upon me, and went on: - -"You are precipitate in your judgment, and I must beg that you will hear -me patiently to the end. I will be brief, for I am more pained by the -disclosure than you can be. Why should I prolong a confession which you -have already anticipated? I loved her; and every time I saw her, I loved -her more and more. I was justified by the circumstances that drew us -together--the equality of our births--the connection of our families. -She was free to choose--so was I. I knew of no impediment, and there was -none at the time she inspired me with that fatal passion which, when it -grew too strong to be concealed from her, she was unable to return." - -I breathed more freely; but seeing the emotion under which poor -Forrester was laboring, I kept silence, and waited for him to resume. - -"I despise what is called superstition," he said, "as much as any of -those bald philosophers we are in the habit of meeting. When they, or -you, or I, talk of supernatural agencies, we must each of us be judged -by the measure of our knowledge. Ignorance and unbelief evade the -question they fear to examine by the easy process of rejecting the -evidence on which it rests. If the evidence be trustworthy, if it be -clear and coherent in every particular, if it be such as we should be -bound to admit upon matters that come within the range of our -experience, I have yet to learn upon what grounds it can be rejected -when it relates to matters of which we know nothing. Our inability to -refute it should make us pause before we heap odium on the witnesses who -vouch for its truth." - -Forrester was proceeding in this strain, apparently under an -apprehension that the disclosure he was about to make required some -prologue of this kind to bespeak credit for it, little suspecting that -there were incidents in my own life which rendered me too easy a -recipient of such statements. But I interrupted him by an assurance that -I was quite prepared to believe in things much more extraordinary than -any which he could have to relate. He then returned to the narrative. - -"Gertrude's aunt had been bred up in Scotland, and was a staunch -supporter of the old customs, and a stickler for the popular faith in -the ceremonies that are practiced there on certain anniversaries. On -one of these occasions, Gertrude, whose imagination had, probably, been -affected by the stories she had heard concerning them, was induced, half -in play and half in earnest, to try the virtue of one of the charms -prescribed for the Eve of All Hallows. We might safely smile at these -things, if they did not sometimes, as in this instance, lead to serious -results. You see I am relating it to you calmly and circumstantially, -although it has blighted my existence. The charm worked out its ends to -a miracle. The table was laid out with supper, the necessary -incantations having been previously performed, and Gertrude, hiding -behind a screen, waited for the appearance of the lover who was to -decide her future destiny. They say there was a long pause--at least it -seemed so to her--and then a footstep was heard, and then the figure of -a man entered the room, and seated himself at the table. Trembling with -terror, she looked out from her hiding-place, and saw him clearly within -two or three yards of her. The chair had been so placed that his face -was exactly opposite to her. She scanned his features so accurately, -that she remembered the minutest particulars, to the color of his hair -and eyes, and the exact form of his mouth, which had a peculiar -expression in it. The figure moved, as if to rise from the chair, and -Gertrude, struck to the heart with fear, uttered a loud shriek, and fell -in a swoon upon the ground. Her friends, who were watching outside, -rushed into the room, but it was empty." - -"And that figure--has she never seen it since?" - -"Never till to-night. _She recognized you in an instant._" - -My amazement at this narrative nearly deprived me of the power of -speech. - -"What followed this?" I inquired. - -"A delusion that has occupied her thoughts ever since. It took such -complete possession of her, that all arguments were useless. When she -was asked if she believed it to be real, her invariable answer was that -it was real to her. I suffered her to indulge this fancy, hoping that -one day or another she would recover from what I regarded as a trance of -the mind; but I was mistaken. She always said she was sure of your -existence; and looked forward to the realization of her destiny, like -one who lived under an enchantment. By slow degrees I relinquished all -hopes, and resolved to sacrifice my own happiness to hers, if the -opportunity should ever arrive. After this she came to London, broken -down in health, and rapidly wasting away under the influence of the -protracted expectation that was destroying her. Then it was I first met -you. I had some misgiving about you from the beginning, and prevailed -upon her to describe to me again and again the person of my spectral -rival. It was impossible to mistake the portrait. My doubts were cleared -up, and the duty I had to perform was obvious. But I determined to make -further inquiry before I revealed to either what I knew of both, and -having heard you speak of your birth-place and residence, I went into -the country, satisfied myself on all points respecting you, and at the -same time learned the whole particulars of your life. Still I delayed -from day to day my intention of bringing you together, knowing that when -it was accomplished my own doom would be sealed forever. While I -delayed, however, she grew worse, and I felt that it would be criminal -to hesitate any longer. I have now fulfilled my part--it remains for you -to act upon your own responsibility. My strength exerted for her has -carried me so far--I can go no further." - -As he uttered these words he rose and turned away his head. I grasped -his hand and tried to detain him. He stood and listened while I -expressed the unbounded gratitude and admiration with which his conduct -inspired me, and explained, hurriedly, the fascination that had held me -in a similar trance to that which he had just described. But he made no -observation on what I said. It appeared as if he had resolved to speak -no more on the subject; and he exhibited such signs of weariness and -pain that I thought it would be unreasonable to solicit his advice at -that moment. And so we parted for the night. - - -VIII. - -I pondered all night upon the history related to me by Forrester. In the -desire to escape from the clouds which still darkened my judgment, I -endeavored to persuade myself at one moment that Forrester was trying to -impose upon me, and at another that he must be laboring under a mental -aberration. The pride of reason revolted from the incredible particulars -of that extraordinary narrative; yet certain coincidences, which seemed -to confirm their truth, made me hesitate in my skepticism. If I had -related to him what had happened to myself, he would have had as good a -right to doubt my sanity or veracity as I had to doubt his. This was -what staggered me. - -I sifted every particle of the story, and was compelled to confess that -there was nothing in it which my own experience did not corroborate. The -fetch, or wraith, or whatever it was that had appeared to Gertrude, was -a counterpart illusion to the figure that had appeared to me. Upon her -memory, as upon mine, it had made so vivid an impression, that our -recognition of each other was mutual and instantaneous. That fact was -clear, and placed the truth of Forrester's statement beyond controversy. -It was competent to others, who had no personal evidence of such -visitations, to treat with indifference the mysteries of the spiritual -world; but I was not free, however much I desired it, to set up for a -philosophical unbeliever. All that remained, therefore, was to speculate -in the dark on the circumstances which were thus shaping out our -destiny, and which, inscrutable as they were, commanded the submission -of my reason and my senses. - -It occurred to me that, as Gertrude's residence beyond the border might -not have been distant many miles from the spot where I imagined I had -seen her, it was possible--barely possible--that her appearance there -might have been a reality after all. This supposition was a great relief -to me, for I would gladly have accepted a natural solution of the -phenomenon, and I accordingly resolved to question her upon the subject. - -I thought the next day would never come, yet I shuddered at its coming. -I was eager to see her again, although I dreaded the interview; and I -will frankly acknowledge, that when I approached the house I trembled -like a man on the eve of a sentence which was to determine the issue of -life or death. - -The blinds were down in all the windows, and the aspect of the whole was -chill and dismal. Where sickness is, there, too, must be cheerlessness -and fear. The passion which had so long possessed me was as strong as -ever, but it was dashed with a hideous terror; there was so much to -explain and to be satisfied upon before either of us could rightly -comprehend our situation. - -I knocked faintly. There was no answer. I knocked again, more loudly, -but still lowly, and with increasing apprehension. The door was opened -by Forrester. He looked dreadfully haggard, as if he had been sitting up -all night, worn by grief and watching. I spoke to him, something broken -and hardly articulate: he bent his head, and, raising his hand in token -of silence, beckoned me to follow him. He was evidently much agitated, -and a suspicion crossed my mind that he already repented the sacrifice -he had made. But I did him wrong. - -When we reached the door of the room in which we had seen Gertrude on -the preceding night Forrester paused, as if to gather up his manhood for -what was to follow; then, putting forward his hand, he pushed open the -door. - -"Go in--go in," he cried, in a choking voice; and hurrying me on he -retreated back into the shadow, as if he wished to avoid being present -at our meeting. - -The room was in deep twilight. The curtains were drawn together over the -windows, and there was less disorder in the apartment than when I had -last seen it. The evidences of illness which I had observed scattered -about were removed, and the furniture was more carefully arranged. The -atmosphere was heavy, and affected me painfully. But I thought nothing -of these things, although the slightest incident did not escape me. -Gertrude still lay upon the sofa, and appeared to be more tranquil and -composed. There was a solemn hush over her as she lay perfectly calm and -motionless. I fancied she was asleep, and approached her gently. Her -hands were stretched down by her sides, and I ventured to raise one of -them to my lips. I shall never forget the horror of that touch. A thrill -shot through my veins, as if a bolt of ice had struck upon my heart and -frozen up its current at the fountain. It was the hand of a corpse. - -In the first feeling of madness and despair which seized upon me I ran -my hands wildly over her arms, and even touched her face and lips, -doubting whether the form that lay before me was of this world. Some -such wild apprehension traversed my brain; but the witnesses of death in -the flesh were too palpable in many ways to admit of any superstitious -incredulity. The violent surprise and emotion of the night before had -proved too much for her wasted strength, and she had sunk suddenly under -the fearful re-action. - -The shock overwhelmed me. Not only was she taken from me at the very -instant of discovery and possession, but all hope of mutual explanation -was extinguished forever. Upon one point alone had I arrived at -certainty, but that only rendered me more anxious to clear up the rest. -I had seen her living, had spoken to her, and heard her voice; and now -she was dead, the proof of her actual humanity was palpable. It was some -comfort to know that she to whom I had dedicated myself under the -influence of a sort of sorcery, was a being actuated by passions like my -own, and subject to the same natural laws; but it was the extremity of -all conceivable wretchedness to lose her just as I had acquired this -consoling knowledge. The phantom had scarcely become a reality when it -again faded into a phantom. - -A few days afterward, for the second time, I followed a hearse to the -grave. The only persons to whom I had consecrated my love were gone; and -this last bereavement seemed to me at the time as if it were final, and -as if there was nothing left for me but to die. My reason, however, had -gained some strength by my rough intercourse with the world; and even in -the midst of the desolation of that melancholy scene I felt as if a -burden had been taken off my mind, and I had been released from a -harassing obligation. At all events I had a consciousness, that as the -earth closed over the coffin of Gertrude, I passed out of the region of -dreams and deceptions, and that whatever lay in advance of me, for good -or evil, was of the actual, toiling, practical world. The exodus of my -delusion seemed to open to me a future, in which imagination would be -rebuked by the presence of stern and harsh realities. I felt like a -manumitted slave, who goes forth reluctantly to the hard work of -freedom, and would gladly fall back, if he could, upon the supine repose -which had spared him the trouble of thinking for himself. - -Forrester bore his agony with heroic endurance. I, who knew what was in -his heart, knew what he suffered. But his eyes were still and his lips -were fixed, and not a single quiver of his pulses betrayed his anguish -to the bystanders. When the last rites were over, and we turned away, he -wrung my hand without a word of leave-taking, and departed. A few days -afterward he left England. The associations connected with the scenes -of his past life--with the country that contained the ashes of all he -loved--embittered every hour of his life, and he wisely sought relief in -exile. I was hurt at not having received some communication from him -before he went away; but I knew he was subject to fits of heavy -depression, and his silence, although it pained me at the time, did not -diminish the respect and sympathy inspired by his conduct. - -I will not dwell upon the immediate effect which the dissolution of -Gertrude, and the phantoms connected with her, had upon my mind. -Shattered and subdued, I re-entered the world, which I was now resolved, -out of cowardice and distrust of myself, not to leave again; taking -mental exercise, as an invalid, slowly recovering from the prostration -of a long illness, tests his returning strength in the open air. I had a -great fear upon me of going into the country, and being once more alone. -The tranquillity of Nature would have thrown me back into despair, while -the crowded haunts of London kept me in a state of activity that -excluded the morbid influences I had so much reason to dread. Of my new -experiences in the second phase of my life, as different from the former -as light from darkness, I shall speak with the same fidelity which I -have hitherto strictly observed. - - - - -PART THE SECOND--NOON. - - -I. - -When I had deposited Gertrude in the grave I was a solitary tree, -singled out by the lightning, from the rest of the forest, and blasted -through every part of its articulation. There was no verdure in my soul. -I was dead to the world around me. I lived in what was gone--I had no -interest in what was to come. I believed that the fatal spell that had -exercised such a power over my thoughts and actions had accomplished its -catastrophe, and that there was nothing further for me to fulfill but -death. My Idol had perished in her beauty and her love. She had withered -before my eyes, destroyed by the supernatural passion which had bound us -to each other. How then could I live, when that which was my life had -vanished like a pageant in the sky? I thought I could not survive her. -Yet I did. And seeing things as I see them now, and knowing the -supremacy of time over affliction, I look back and wonder at the thought -which desolated my heart under the immediate pressure of a calamity that -appeared irreparable, but for which the world offered a hundred -appeasing consolations. - -I went again into the bustle--the strife of vanities, ambitions, -passions, and interests. At first I merely suffered myself to be carried -away by the tide; my plank was launched, and I drifted with the current. -But in a little time I began to be excited by the roar and jubilee of -the waters. - -For many months Gertrude was ever present to me, in moments of respite -and solitude. As certain as the night returned, the stillness of my -chamber was haunted by her smiles. The tomb seemed to give up its tenant -in the fresh bloom and sweet confidence of life, and she would come in -her star-light brightness, smiling sadly, as if she had a feeling of -something wanted in that existence to which death had translated her, -and looking reproachfully, but sweetly down upon me for lingering so -long behind her. By degrees, as time wore on, her form grew less and -less distinct, and, wearied of watching and ruminating, I would fall -asleep and lose her; and so, between waking and sleeping, the floating -outlines vanished, and she visited me no more. At last I almost forgot -the features which were once so deeply portrayed upon my heart. Poor -human love and grief, how soon their footprints are washed away! - -I resided entirely in London, without any settled plan of life, tossed -about upon the living surge, and indifferent whither it swept me. I -lived from hour to hour, and from day to day, upon the incidents that -chanced to turn up. People thought there was something singular in my -manner, and that my antecedents were ambiguous; consequently I was much -sought after, and invited abroad. My table was covered with cards. I was -plagued with inquiries, and found that ladies were especially anxious to -know more about me than I chose to tell. My silence and reserve piqued -their curiosity. Had I been a romantic exile, dressed in a bizarre -costume, with an interesting head of hair, and an impenetrable -expression of melancholy in my face, I could not have been more -flattered by their inconvenient attentions. Out of this crush of -civilities I made my own election of friends. My acquaintance was -prodigious--my intimacies were few. Wherever I went I met a multitude of -faces that were quite familiar to me, and to which I was expected to -bow, but very few individuals whom I really knew. I had not the kind of -talent that can carry away a whole _London Directory_ in its -head. I could never remember the names of the mob of people I was -acquainted with. I recognized their faces, and shook their hands, and -was astonished to find how glibly they all had my name, although I -hardly recollected one of theirs, and this round of nods and -how-d'ye-do's constituted the regular routine of an extensive -intercourse with society. The clatter, frivolous as it was, kept me in -motion, and there was health in that; but it was very wearisome. A man -with a heart in his body desires closer and more absorbing ties. But we -get habituated to these superficialities, and drop into them with -surprising indifference; knowing or hoping that the sympathy we long for -will come at last, and that, if it never comes, it is not so bad a thing -after all, to be perpetually stopped on the journey of life by lively -gossips, who will shake you by the hand, and insist upon asking you how -you are, just as cordially as if they cared to know. - -There was one family I visited more frequently than the rest of my -miscellaneous acquaintance. I can hardly explain the attraction that -drew me so much into their circle, for there was little in it that was -lovable in itself, or that harmonized with my tastes. But antagonisms -are sometimes as magnetic as affinities in the moral world. They were -all very odd, and did nothing like other people. They were so changeable -and eccentric that they scarcely appeared to me for two evenings in -succession to be the same individuals. They were perpetually shifting -the slides of character, and exhibiting new phases. Their amusements and -occupations resembled the incessant dazzle of a magic lantern. They were -never without a novelty of some kind on hand--a new whim, which they -played with like a toy till they got tired of it--a subtle joke, with a -little malicious pleasantry in it--or a piece of scandal, which they -exhausted till it degenerated into ribaldry. Their raillery and mirth, -even when they happened to be in their most good-natured moods, were -invariably on the side of ridicule. They took delight in distorting -every thing, and never distorted any thing twice in the same way. They -laughed at the whole range of quiet, serious amiabilities, as if all -small virtues were foibles and weaknesses; and held the heroic qualities -in a sort of mock awe that was more ludicrous and humiliating than open -scoffing and derision. In this way they passed their lives, coming out -with fresh gibes every morning, and going to bed at night in the same -harlequinade humor. It seemed as if they had no cares of their own, and -made up for the want of them by taking into keeping the cares of their -neighbors; which they tortured so adroitly that, disrelish it as you -might, it was impossible to resist the infection of their grotesque -satire. - -One of the members of this family was distinguished from the rest by -peculiarities special to himself. He was a dwarf in stature, with a -large head, projecting forehead, starting eyes, bushy hair, and an -angular chin. He was old enough to be dealt with as a man; but from his -diminutive size, and the singularity of his manners, he was treated as a -boy. Although his mental capacity was as stunted as his body, he -possessed so extraordinary a talent for translating and caricaturing -humanity, that he was looked upon as a domestic mime of unrivaled -powers. He could run the circle of the passions with surprising -facility, rendering each transition from the grave to the gay so -clearly, and touching so rapidly, yet so truly, every shade of emotion, -that your wonder was divided between the dexterity, ease, and -completeness of the imitation, and the sagacious penetration into -character which it indicated. Acting, no doubt, is not always as wise as -it looks; and the mimicry that shows so shrewd on the surface is often a -mere mechanical trick. But in this case the assumptions were various, -distinct, and broadly marked, and not to be confounded with the low art -that paints a feeling in a contortion or a grimace. During these strange -feats he never spoke a word. He did not require language to -give effect or intelligence to his action. All was rapid, graphic, and -obvious, and dashed off with such an air of original humor that the most -serious pantomime took the odd color of a jest without compromising an -atom of its grave purpose. Indeed this tendency to indulge in a kind of -sardonic fun was the topping peculiarity of the whole group, and the -dwarf was a faithful subscriber to the family principles. - -I suffered myself to be most unreasonably amused by this daily -extravagance. The dwarf was a fellow after my own fancy: an -irresponsible fellow, headlong, irregular, misshapen, and eternally -oscillating to and fro without any goal in life. He never disturbed me -by attempts to show things as they were, or by over-refined reasoning -upon facts, in which some people are in the habit of indulging until -they wear off the sharp edge of truths, and fritter them down into -commonplaces. In short, he never reasoned at all. He darted upon a -topic, struck his fangs into it, and left it, depositing a little poison -behind him. His singularities never offended me, because they never -interfered with my own. He turned the entire structure and operations of -society to the account of the absurd; and made men, not the victims of -distaste as I did, but the puppets of a farce. We arrived, however, at -much the same conclusion by different routes, and the dwarf and I agreed -well together; although there was an unconfessed repulsion between us -which prohibited the interchange of those outward tokens of harmony that -telegraph the good fellowship of the crowd. - -From the first moment of our acquaintance I had a secret distrust about -my friend the dwarf. I shrank from him instinctively when I felt his -breath upon me, which was as hot as if it came from a furnace. I felt as -if he was a social Mephistophiles, exercising a malignant influence over -my fate. Yet, in spite of this feeling, we became intimate all at once. -As I saw him in the first interview, I saw him ever after. We relaxed -all formalities on the instant of introduction, when he broke out with a -gibe that put us both at our ease at once. We were intimates in slippers -and morning-gowns, while the rest of the family were as yet on -full-dress ceremony with me. - - -II. - -After I had known this family a considerable time, a lady from a distant -part of the country, whom I had never seen or heard of before, came on a -visit to them. She was a woman of about twenty-five years of age, with a -handsome person, considerable powers of conversation, and more intellect -than fine women usually take the trouble to cultivate or display, -preferring to trust, as she might have safely done, to the influence of -their beauty. Her form was grand and voluptuous; her head, with her hair -bound up in fillets, had a noble classical air; and her features were -strictly intellectual. She had never been married; and exhibiting, as -she did at all times, a lofty superiority over the people by whom she -was surrounded in this house, it opened a strange chapter of sprightly -malevolence to observe how they criticised her, and picked off her -feathers, whenever she happened to be out of the room. They affected the -most sublime regard for her, and the way they showed it was by wondering -why she remained single, and trying to account for it by sundry -flattering inuendos, with a sneer lurking under each of them. - -The men had no taste--this was said so slily as to make every body -laugh--or perhaps they were afraid of her; she was hard to please; her -mind was too masculine, which made her appear more repulsive than she -really was; she did not relish female society, and men are always -jealous of women who are superior to themselves, and so, between the -two--hem!--there was the old adage! Then she aimed at eccentricity, and -had some uncommon tastes; she was fond of poetry and philosophy, and -blue stockings are not so marketable as hosiery of a plainer kind: in -short, it was not surprising that such a woman should find it rather -difficult to suit herself with a husband. But whoever did succeed in -overcoming her fastidiousness would get a prize! - -These criticisms, probably, awakened an interest in my mind about this -lady. She was evidently not understood by her critics; and it was by no -means unlikely that, in attributing peculiarities to her which did not -exist, they might have overlooked the true excellencies of her -character. In proportion as they depreciated her, she rose in my -estimation, by the rule of contrarieties. It had always been a weakness -of mine to set myself against the multitude on questions of taste, and -to reverse their judgment by a foregone conclusion. I then believed, and -do still in a great measure believe, that persons of genius are not -appreciated or comprehended by the mob; but I occasionally committed the -mistake of taking it for granted that persons who were depreciated by -the mob must of necessity be persons of genius. - -Astræa--for so she was familiarly called, at first in the way of covert -ridicule, but afterward from habit--was thoroughly in earnest in every -thing she said and did. She could adapt herself to the passing humor of -vivacity or sarcasm without any apparent effort, but her natural manner -was grave and dominant. Beneath the severity of her air was an unsettled -spirit, which a close observer could not fail to detect. It was to carry -off or hide this secret disquietude of soul (such, at least, it appeared -to me), that, with a strong aversion to frivolity, she heeded all the -frivolous amusements; but then it was done with an effort and excess -that showed how little her taste lay in it, and that it was resorted to -only as an escape from criticism. She had no skill in these relaxations, -and blundered sadly in her attempts to get through them; and people -tried to feel complimented by her condescension, but were never really -satisfied. And when she had succeeded in getting up the group to the -height of its gayety, and thought that every body was fully employed, -she would take advantage of the general merriment and relapse into her -own thoughts. It was then you could see clearly how little interest she -took in these things. But she was too important a person to be allowed -to drop out, and as she was well aware of the invidious distinction with -which she was treated, she would speedily rally and mix in the frivolity -again. All this was done with a struggle that was quite transparent to -me. She never played that part with much tact. Yet her true character -baffled me, notwithstanding. There was an evident restlessness within; -as if she were out of her sphere, or as if there were a void to be -filled, a longing after something which was wanted to awaken her -sympathies, and set her soul at repose. Of that I was convinced; but all -beyond was impenetrable obscurity. - -The mystery that hovered about her manner, her looks, her words, -attracted me insensibly toward her. She was an enigma to the world as I -was myself; and a secret feeling took possession of me that there were -some latent points of unison in our natures which would yet be drawn out -in answering harmony. This feeling was entirely exempt from passion. -Gertrude had absorbed all that was passionate and loving in my -nature--at least, I thought so then. And the difference between them was -so wide, that it was impossible to feel in the same way about Gertrude -first and Astræa afterward. Simplicity, gentleness, and timidity, were -the characteristics of Gertrude; while Astræa was proud, grand, almost -haughty, with a reserve which I could not fathom. If it be true that the -individual nature can find a response only in another of a certain -quality, then it would have been absurd to delude myself by any dreams -of that kind about Astræa. If I had really loved Gertrude, I could not -love Astræa. They were essentially in direct opposition to each other. -As for Astræa, she appeared inaccessible to the weaknesses of passion; -her conversation was bold, and she selected topics that invited -argument, but rarely awakened emotion. Energetic, lofty, and severe, her -very bearing repelled the approaches of love. He would have been a brave -man who should have dared to love Astræa. I wondered at her beauty, -which was not captivating at a glance, but full of dignity. I wondered, -admired, listened, but was not enslaved. - -She treated me with a frankness which she did not extend to others. This -did not surprise me in the circle in which I found her. It was natural -enough that she should avail herself of any escape that offered from -that atmosphere of _persiflage_. I was guided by a similar -impulse. But the same thing occurs every day in society. People -always, when they can, prefer the intercourse which comes nearest to -their own standard. It does not follow, however, that they must -necessarily fall in love. Such a suspicion never entered my head. - -I soon discovered that her knowledge was by no means profound; and that -her judgment was not always accurate. Setting aside the showy -accomplishments which go for nothing as mental culture she was -self-educated. She had been an extensive reader, but without method. -She touched the surface of many subjects, and carried away something -from each, to show that she had been there, trusting to her vigorous -intellect for the use she should make of her fragmentary acquisitions. -It was only when you discussed a subject fully with her that you -discovered her deficiencies. In the ordinary way, rapidly lighting upon -a variety of topics, she was always so brilliant and suggestive that you -gave her credit for a larger field of acquirements than she really -traversed. This discovery gave me an advantage over her; and my -advantage gave me courage. - -One evening we were talking of the mythology, one of her favorite -themes. - -"And you seriously think," I observed, in answer to something she said, -"that the story of Hercules and the distaff has a purpose?" - -"A deep purpose, and a very obvious moral," she replied. - -"Will you expound it to me?" - -"It is quite plain--the parable of strength vanquished by gentleness. -There is nothing so strong as gentleness." - -This reply took me by surprise, and I observed, "I should hardly have -expected that from you." I was thinking more of the unexpected admission -of the power of gentleness from the lips of Astræa, than of the truth or -depth of the remark. - -"Do you mean that as a compliment?" she inquired. - -"Well--no. But from a mind constituted like yours, I should have looked -for a different interpretation." - -"Then you think that my mind ought to prostrate itself before a brawny -development of muscles?" - -"No, no; remember, you spoke of gentleness." - -"That is the mind of woman," she answered, "taking its natural place, -and asserting its moral power. For gentleness, like beauty, is a moral -power." - -"Beauty a moral power?" I exclaimed. - -"That is its true definition, unless you would degrade it by lowering it -to the standard of the senses," she replied, kindling as she spoke. -"It elevates the imagination; we feel a moral exaltation in the -contemplation of it; it is the essential grace of nature; it refines and -dignifies our whole being; and appreciated in this aspect, it inspires -the purest and noblest aspirations." - -This creed of beauty was very unlike any thing I had anticipated from -her. If any body in a crowded drawing-room had spoken in this style, I -should have expected that she would have smiled somewhat contemptuously -upon them. - -"Your definition is imperfect," I ventured to say; "I do not dispute it -as far as it goes, but it is defective in one article of faith." - -"Oh! I am not sent from the stars--though they have voted me Astræa--to -convert heathens. Pray, let us have your article of faith." - -"I believe implicitly in your religion," said I; "but believing so much, -I am compelled to believe a little more. If beauty calls up this homage -of the imagination, and inspires these pure and elevating aspirations, -it must awaken the emotions of the heart. To feel and appreciate beauty -truly, therefore, is, in other words, to love." - -"That is an old fallacy. If love were indispensable to the appreciation -of beauty, it would cruelly narrow the pleasures of the imagination." - -"On the contrary," I replied, "I believe them to be inseparable." - -"You are talking riddles," she replied, as if she were getting tired of -the subject; "but, true or false, I have no reliance upon the word love, -or the use that is made of it. It means any thing or nothing." - -"Then you must allow me to explain myself;" and so I set about my -explanation without exactly knowing what it was I had to explain. "I -spoke of love as an abstract emotion." She smiled very discouragingly at -that phrase, and I was, therefore, bound to defend it. "Certainly there -is such a thing--listen to me for a moment. I was not speaking of the -love of this or that particular object--a love that may grow up and then -die to the root; but the love which may be described as the poetical -perception and permanent enjoyment of the ideal." - -"We must not quarrel about the word," interrupted Astræa, as if she -wished to bring the conversation to a close; "we agree, possibly, in the -thing, although I should have expressed it differently." - -"I grant," said I, trying to gather my own meaning more clearly, "love -must have an object. Abstractions may occupy the reason, but do not -touch the heart. When beauty appeals to the heart it must take a -definite shape, and the love it inspires must be addressed to that -object alone." - -"We have changed our argument," observed Astræa, quickly, "and see, we -must change our seats, too, for supper is announced." - -I felt that I was rhapsodizing, and that, if I had gone on much further, -I must have uttered a great deal that Astræa would have inevitably set -down as rank nonsense. I was not sorry, therefore, that the conversation -was broken off at that dubious point. We were both scared out of our -subtleties by the flutter and laughter that rang through the room as -every body rose to go to supper; and in a few moments I found myself -seated at table with Astræa next to me, and my friend the dwarf seated -exactly opposite. - - -III. - -The chatter of the party was, as usual, noisy and sarcastic. They were -in an extraordinary flow of spirits, and indulged their unsparing -raillery to an extravagant excess. The dwarf had quite a roystering fit -upon him, and tossed his great shapeless head about with such outrageous -fun, that one might suppose he was laboring under a sudden access of -delirium, or had, at least, fallen in with a rare God-send to exercise -his powers of frantic ridicule upon. These things, no doubt, presented -themselves to me in an exaggerated light, for I was a little out of -humor with myself; and could not help contrasting the reckless levity of -the group with the stillness of Astræa, who must have secretly despised -the companionship into which she was thrown. - -Whenever any body uttered a joke (and dreary and miserable jokes they -were), the dwarf, who acted a sort of chorus to their obstreperous -humors, would jerk his head back with a theatrical "Ha!" and spread out -his hands like so many coiling snakes, with an indescribable -exaggeration of astonishment. Then a sneer and chirrup would run round -the table, rising presently into a loud laugh, which the lady of the -house would discreetly suppress by lifting her finger half way to her -face--a signal that was understood to imply a cessation of hostilities -when the ribaldry was supposed to be going too far. - -I looked at Astræa involuntarily on one of these occasions, and found -her eyes turned at the same instant to mine. The same thought was in -both our minds. We both abhorred the coarseness of the scene, and felt -the same desire to be alone. The position which thus extracted the -feelings that we held in common was full of peril to us; but at such -moments one never thinks of peril. - -I asked her to take wine, pouring it into her glass at the same moment. -This implied a familiarity between us which I certainly did not intend, -and should not have been conscious of if I had not chanced to notice the -face of the dwarf. He was looking straight at us, his mouth pursed out, -and his head thrust forward as if to make way for a sudden writhing or -elevation of his shoulders. It was the express image of a man who had -discovered something very strange, or in whom a previous doubt had just -been confirmed. I could not at all comprehend his meaning; but I knew he -had a meaning, and that threw me back upon myself to find out the point -of the caricature. I attributed it to the unceremonious freedom I had -taken with Astræa, and regretted that I had given occasion to so pitiful -a jest; but I was by no means satisfied that there was not an _arrière -pensée_ in the mind of the dwarf. - -The spiteful mirth went on in a rapid succession of vulgar inuendos, -puns, and jokes. The peculiarities of one intimate friend after another -were anatomized with surprising skill; nobody was spared; and the finger -of the hostess was in constant requisition to check the riot, and direct -the scandal-hunters after fresh quarry. As none of the people who were -thus made the subjects of unmerciful ridicule were known to me or -Astræa, we took no part in their dissection, and imperceptibly dropped -into a conversation between ourselves. - -We resumed our old subject, and talked in low and earnest tones. I -supposed that they were all too much engaged in the personal topics that -afforded them so much amusement to think about us, and had no suspicion -that they were observing us closely all the time. I was apprised of -the fact by the astounding expression I detected on the face of -my indefatigable Mephistophiles: I shall never forget it. It was a -face of saturnine ecstasy, with a secret smile of pleasure in it, -evidently intended for me alone, as if he rejoiced, and wondered, and -congratulated me, and was in high raptures at my happiness. I was -astonished and confounded, and felt myself singularly agitated; yet, I -knew not why--I was not angry with him: for although his manner was -inexplicable, and ought to have been taken as an offense from its -grossness, still, for some unaccountable reason, it was pleasant rather -than disagreeable to me. - -I forgot the little demon, however, in the delight of looking at Astræa, -and listening to her. There was such a charm in her eyes, and in the -sound of her voice, that I was soon drawn again within its powerful -influence. As to the subject of our conversation, it was of secondary -interest to the pleasure of hearing her speak. Whatever I said was but -to induce her to say more. To struggle in an argument was out of the -question--all I yearned for was the music of her tones. Not that I quite -lost the thread of our discussion, but that I was more engaged in -following the new graces and embellishments it derived from her mode of -treating it, than in pursuing the main topic. Again I turned to the -dwarf, and there he was again glaring upon us with a look of transport. -But his fiery eyes no longer leaped out upon me alone; they were moved -quickly from Astræa to me alternately, and were lighted up with a wild -satisfaction that appeared to indicate the consummation of some -delirious passion. I never saw so much mad glee in a human face; all the -more mad to me, since I was entirely ignorant of the source from whence -it sprang. Once I thought Astræa observed him, but she turned aside her -head, and hastily changed the conversation, apparently to defeat his -curiosity. - -Many times before I took leave that night the mime repeated his antics; -and, as if to make me feel assured that I was really the object of his -pantomimic raptures, he squeezed my hand significantly at parting, and -with more cordiality than he had ever shown me before. - -As I bade Astræa "good-night," she gave me her hand--in the presence of -the whole family; there was nothing to conceal in her thoughts. I took -it gently in mine, and, gazing for a moment intently into her face, in -which I thought I perceived a slight trace of confusion, I bowed and -withdrew. - -That was a night of strange speculation. For some time past, I had -thought little of Gertrude--had almost forgotten her. That night she -returned, but unlike what she had ever been before. The smile, like -sunlight let in upon the recesses of a young bud, no longer cleft her -lips; and her eyes were cold and glassy. I felt, too, that I had -recalled her by an effort of the will, and that she did not come -involuntarily, as of old. - -There was a sense of guiltiness in this. Was Gertrude fading from my -memory?--and was Astræa concerned in the change? No, Astræa was nothing -to me--she was out of my way--the height on which she stood was frozen. -What was it, then, that troubled and excited me, and blotted out the -past? - -I was more unhappy than ever; yet it was an unhappiness that carried me -onward, as if there was an escape for it, or a remedy. I was perplexed -and disturbed. I was like a bird suddenly awakened in its cage amidst -the glare of torches. I tried to think of Gertrude, but it was in vain. -The thought no longer appeased me. The dwarf-mime was before me with all -his devilish tricks and gestures. I could not rid myself of his hideous -features. They danced and gibbered in the air, and were always fastened -upon me. He was like a human nightmare; and even the gray dawn, as it -came through the curtains, only showed that misshapen head more clearly. -What was this dwarf to me that he should haunt me thus, and become an -agony to my soul. Was he my fate? or was he sent to torture me to some -deed of self-abandonment? I should have gone mad with this waking dream, -but as the morning advanced, and the light spread, my aching eyes closed -in an uneasy sleep. - -I was dissatisfied with myself, without exactly knowing why. I hated the -dwarf, yet was fascinated by the very importunity that made me hate him. -Why should he meddle with me? Why should he exult in any diversion of my -fortunes? What was he to me, or Astræa to either of us? I was an -unchartered ship, in which no living person had an interest, drifting on -the wide waste of waters. Why should his eyes traverse the great expanse -to keep watch on me? Could he not let me founder on the breakers, -without making mocking signals to me from the shore, where he and his -stood in heartless security? My sleep was full of dreams of that -malignant demon, and I awoke in a state of actual terror from their -violent action on my nerves. - - -IV. - -The next morning I went out, determined to dissipate these harassing -reflections, and, above all things, resolved not to see Astræa. I -wandered about half the day, perfectly sincere in my intention of -avoiding the quarter of the town in which she lived. My mind was so much -absorbed, that I was quite unconscious of the route I had taken, until, -raising my eyes, I saw the dwarf standing before me on the steps of his -own door. I had dropped into the old track by the sheer force of habit, -and have no doubt that my tormentor put the worst construction on the -flush that shot into my face at seeing him. The same riotous glee was in -his eyes that I had noticed, for the first time, on the evening before; -but it now took something of a look of triumph that perplexed me more -than ever. - -"Ha!" he exclaimed, with a chuckle that literally palpitated through his -whole body--"you are come at last. I have been looking out for you the -whole morning." - -"Indeed!" - -"How did you sleep last night?" he continued; "what sort of dreams had -you? I'll answer for it that no dancing dervish ever went through such -contortions!" - -"What do you mean?" I demanded. - -"Why, there!" he replied, "you turn red and white by turns. Are you -hit?--are you hit? Confess yourself, and I will comfort you." - -"Come, come," said I, anxious not to provoke the explanation I panted -for, yet dreaded, "this _badinage_ is sorry work for the day-light. -You should keep it till the lamps are lighted!" - -"Have at you, then," he returned, his features undergoing a comical -transition into affected gravity; "I will talk proverbs with you, and -look as gloomy as a mute at a funeral:" giving, at the same time, an -irresistible imitation of one of those ghastly, wire-drawn, drunken -faces. "Mercy upon us! what ominous tokens are in that doleful -countenance of yours! The candle gives out its warning-sheet for the -bespoken of the grave; the sea has its sights and sounds for the doomed -man who is to sup with the fishes; the cricket challenges death in the -hearth; the devil gives three knocks at the door when some miserable -wretch is passing through the mortal agony; and there are signs in your -face of a living torture, which any man galloping by may see. What does -it mean? Is the leaf only turned over by the wind, and will the next -blast whisk it back again? or are its fibres riven past recovery?" - -I could not bear this tantalizing mockery; and if I had not been afraid -of exciting the malice of that fiendish nature, there must have been an -explosion at this moment. I managed, however, to control myself, and -spoke to him calmly, but with a resolution in my voice which admitted of -no mis-construction. "Now, listen to me, my friend," I said, "and -understand distinctly what I am going to say. You have extraordinary -talents for sarcasm, but I must ask you not to practice them upon me. I -don't like to be questioned and criticised in this way. I dare say you -don't intend any thing beyond an idle joke; but I don't like being made -the subject of jokes. I covet no favor from you but to be spared your -gibes--and that is not much for you to grant." - -"The hardest thing in the world to grant!" he answered. "To be spared my -gibes! What is to become of us, if I'm not to have my gibes? You might -as well ask me to look you straight in the face and not to see you. -Nonsense! you mustn't impose such a penance upon me." - -"But why do you jest with me in this way? Do you think I am a fit object -for burlesque and buffoonery?" - -"Burlesque and buffoonery?" he returned, twitching his mouth as if he -were stung to the quick; "I do not burlesque you, and I am not a -buffoon." - -"Then drop this strange humor of yours, and try to be serious with me." - -"Do you desire me to be serious with you?" - -"Most assuredly I do. I don't understand any thing else." - -"Then it is a bond between us henceforth," he cried, in a tone of deep -earnestness. "From this hour I jest with you no more." - -As he spoke he glanced at me darkly under his eyebrows, and turned into -the house. I was rather taken by surprise at this new manifestation of -his versatile genius, and followed him mechanically, utterly forgetful -of the wise resolution with which I had set out. - -We went into the drawing-room. Astræa was surrounded by a group o girls, -some kneeling, others dispersed about her, while she was directing their -employment on a piece of tapestry on a large frame. The _tableau_ -was striking, and I thought Astræa never looked so well Her fine figure -was thrown into a graceful attitude, the head slightly averted, and one -hand pointing to the tracery, while the other was raised in the air, -suspending some threads of the embroidery. The face that formed a circle -round her were looking up, beaming with pleasure and presented an -animated picture. Here was Astræa in a new aspect. I felt the injustice -her flippant critics had committed in unsexing her, and depriving her of -her domestic attributes. - -Our entrance disturbed the group, and, springing up, they took to flight -like a flock of birds. - -"You see, Astræa," said the dwarf, in a sharp voice, meant to convey -sneer through a compliment, "you are not allowed to be useful in this -world. You are invaded at all your weak points: the force of you -attraction will not suffer you to enjoy even your needle in private." - -"A truce, sir, to this folly!" exclaimed Astræa, turning from him an -advancing to meet me. - - The dwarf twirled painfully on his chair, as if the scorn had taken -full effect upon him. We had both struck him in the same place. Had we -premeditated a plan of operations for wounding his vanity we could not -have acted more completely in concert. - - "I hope," said I, desiring to change the subject, "you have recovered -our merriment of last night?" - - "Merriment?" interposed Mephistophiles; "Good! _Your_ merriment -You and Astræa were like dull citizens yawning over a comedy, which we -were fools enough to act for you. When next we play in that fashion may -we have a livelier audience." - - "The reproach, I am afraid, is just," I observed, looking at Astræa. -But she was not disposed to give the vantage ground to Mephistophiles. -"I hope next time you may have an audience more to your liking," she -observed; "tastes differ, you know, in these matters." - -"Yes, that's quite true," returned the dwarf, dryly; "but _your_ -tastes, it seems agree wonderfully." - -Thus Astræa and I were coupled and cast together by the mime, who -evidently took a vindictive delight in committing us to embarrassments -of that kind. To have attempted to extricate ourselves would probably -have only drawn fresh imputations upon us; so we let it pass. - -Every body has observed what important events sometimes take their -spring in trifles. The destiny of a life is not unfrequently determined -by an accident. I felt that there was something due to Astræa or the -freedom to which she was exposed on my account. Yet it was an -exceedingly awkward subject to touch upon. The very consciousness of -this awkwardness produced or suggested other feelings that involved me in -fresh difficulties. I felt that I ought to apologize for having brought -this sort of observation upon her; but I also felt that explanations on -such subjects are dangerous, and that it is safer to leave them -unnoticed. The impulse, however, to say something was irresistible; and -what I did say was not well calculated to help me out of the dilemma. - -"I feel," said I, quite aware at the moment I spoke that it would have -been just as well to have left my feelings out of the question--"I feel -that I ought to apologize to you for bringing discredit on your taste. -The whole fault of the dullness lies with me." - -"Not at all," she replied; "I am perfectly willing to take my share of -it. Be assured that the highest compliment is often to be extracted from -some people's sarcasms." - -This was a "palpable hit," and I apprehended that it would rouse the -dwarf to a fierce rejoinder. But he had left the room, and we were -alone. - -There was a pause; and Astræa, who had more courage under the -embarrassment than I could command, was the first to speak. "They -mistake me," she said slowly; "it has been my misfortune all my life to -be misunderstood. Perhaps the error is in myself. Possibly my own nature -is at cross-purposes, marring and frustrating all that I really mean to -do and say. I try to adapt myself to other people, but always fail. Even -my motive are misinterpreted, and I can not make myself intelligible. It -must be some original willfulness of my nature, that makes me seem too -proud to the proud, and too condescending to the humble; but certain it -is that both equally mistake me." - -"_I_ do not mistake you, Astræa," I cried, startled by the humility -of her confession. - -"I feel you do not," she answered. - -"They say you are scornful and unapproachable--not so! You are as timid -at heart as the fawn trembling in its retreat at the sound of the -hunter's horn. But you hold them, with whom you can not mingle, by the -bond of fear. You compel them to treat you with deference, from the -apprehension that they might otherwise become familiar. The translate -your high intelligence into haughtiness; and because they can not reach -to your height, they believe you to be proud and despotic." - -"I know not how that may be," she returned; "but I will acknowledge that -my feelings must be touched before the mere woman's nature is awakened. -They who do not know me think--" - -"That you are insensible to that touch," said I, supplying the -unfinished sentence; "they libel you, Astræa! Achilles had only one -vulnerable spot, but that was fatal. Protected in all else, you are -defenseless on one point, and when that is struck your whole nature is -subjugated. Do I describe you truly? When the woman is awakened, the -insensibility and fortitude in which you are shut up will melt -away--your power will be reduced to helplessness: absorbing devotion, -unbounded tenderness, which are yearning for their release, will flow -out; the conqueror will become the enslaved, living, not for victories -which you despise, but for a servitude which will bring your repressed -enthusiasm into action. For this you would sacrifice the world--pride, -place, applause, disciples, flattery!" - -"Not a very agreeable picture--but, I am afraid, a faithful one." - -"Strong feelings and energy of character are not always best for our -happiness," I went on; "you expected too much; you found the world cold -and selfish, and your heart closed upon it. This was the action of a -temperament eager and easily chilled; and it was natural enough that -people who could not move your sympathies should think that your heart -was dead or callous. Yet there it was, watching for the being who was -one day to call up its idolatry--for it is not love that will constitute -your happiness, Astræa--it must be idolatry. It is that for which you -live--to relinquish yourself for another. All is darkness and probation -with you till she who now inspires so much worship to which she is -indifferent, shall herself become the worshiper. It is the instinct of -your nature, the secret of the enigma, which makes you seem exactly the -opposite of what you are." - -I might have run on I know not to what excess, for I felt my eloquence -kindling and rising to an extravagant height, when I perceived Astræa -change color and avert her eyes. - -"Have I offended you, Astræa?" I inquired. - -"Offended me?" she answered; "no, you have done me a service. You have -shown me the error of my life--the folly and delusion of hoping for a -destiny different from that of the ordinary lot." - -"Why do you call it a delusion? You will yet find that haven of rest -toward which your heart looks so tremulously. The bird whose instinct -carries it over the wild seas from continent to continent sometimes -droops its jaded wings and sinks, but it makes land at last." - -"No, no; it was a dream. There is no reality in such foolish notions." - -"Come," said I, with increasing earnestness, "you must not speak against -your convictions. You do not think it a dream--you rely confidently on -the hope that the time will come--" - -"The thought is madness," interrupted Astræa, quickly; -"no--no--no--there is no such hope for me. Do not misconceive me. You -have read my nature as clearly as if the volume of my whole life to its -inmost thoughts were laid open before you. But the dream is over. It -might have been the pride and glory of my soul to have waited upon some -high Intelligence--to have followed its progress, cheered it patiently -in secret to exertion, encouraged its ambition, and lain in the shadow -of its triumphs. It is over. That may never be!" - -Her voice shook, although she looked calmly at me as she spoke, trying -to conceal her emotion. Her hand accidentally lay in mine. There was a -danger in it which I would not see. - -"And you have not found the Intelligence for which you sought?" I -demanded, in a voice that conveyed more than it expressed in words. - -"Yes," she replied slowly, "I have found Intelligence--original, hard, -athletic; but wanting in the sympathy that alone wins the heart of -woman." - -"Astræa," I replied, "your imagination has pictured an ideal which I -fear you will never find realized." - -"I _have_ found it!" she cried, betrayed into a transport of -feeling; then, checking herself, she added, "and I have lost it. Would -to God I had never found it!" - -Her head drooped--it touched my shoulder; my arm pressed her waist--I -was ignorant of it; a haze swam before my eyes. Tumultuous sensations -beat audibly at my heart. Astræa, the haughty beauty--the intellectual, -proud Astræa--where was her dominant power--her lofty self-possession -now? Subdued, bowed down by emotion, the strength of her will seemed to -pass from her to me, reversing our positions, and placing in my hands -the ascendency she had so lately wielded. The air seemed to palpitate -with these new and agitating feelings. I made an effort to control -myself and speak, but could only pronounce her name - -"Astræa!" - -There were a hundred questions in the word; but she was silent, and in -her silence a hundred answers. - -"Not here, Astræa," I cried; "we shall be more free to speak -elsewhere--away from those vacant eyes through which no hearts find -utterance for us. One word, and I will be still--one word--" - -She trembled violently, and pressed my hand convulsively, as if she -desired that I should not ask that word. But it was no longer possible -to restrain it. - -That word was spoken. - -A shudder passed over her, and as she bent her head I felt a gush of -tears upon my hand. At that moment a muffled step was on the stairs, and -I had scarcely time to disengage myself when our imp half opened the -door, and looked in with a leer of ribaldry and suspicion that chilled -me to the core. - - (_To be continued._) - - - - -WILLIAM PENN'S CONVERSION TO QUAKERISM.[1] - - -[Footnote 1: From a new life of Penn, by Hepworth Dixon, in the press of -Blanchard and Lea, Philadelphia.] - -Penn did not remain long in London. His father, anxious to keep him -apart from his old Puritan friends--and to sustain the habit of devotion -to his temporal interests into which he seemed gradually falling, sent -him again into Ireland. He had no suspicion that the enemy of his peace -lay in ambush at the very gates of his stronghold. But the youth had not -resided more than a few months at Shangarry Castle before one of those -incidents occurred which destroy in a day the most elaborate attempts to -stifle the instincts of nature. When the admiral in England was pluming -himself on the triumphs of his worldly prudence, his son, on occasion of -one of his frequent visits to Cork, heard by accident that Thomas Loe, -his old Oxford acquaintance, was in the city and intended to preach that -night. He thought of his boyish enthusiasm at college, and wondered how -the preacher's eloquence would stand the censures of his riper judgment. -Curiosity prompted him to stay and listen. The fervid orator took for -his text the passage--"There is a faith that overcomes the world, and -there is a faith that is overcome by the world." The topic was -peculiarly adapted to his own situation. Possessed by strong religious -instincts, but at the same time docile and affectionate--he had hitherto -oscillated between two duties--duty to God and duty to his father. The -case was one in which the strongest minds might waver for a time. On the -one side--his filial affection, the example of his brilliant friends, -the worldly ambition never quite a stranger to the soul of man--all -pleaded powerfully in favor of his father's views. On the other there -was only the low whisperings of his own heart. But the still voice would -not be silenced. Often as he had escaped from thought into business, gay -society, or the smaller vanities of the parade and mess-room--the moment -of repose again brought back the old emotions. The crisis had come at -last. Under Thomas Loe's influence they were restored to a permanent -sway. From that night he was a Quaker in his heart. - -He now began to attend the meetings of this despised and persecuted -sect, and soon learned to feel the bitter martyrdom to which he had -given up all his future hopes. In no part of these islands were the -Quakers of that time treated as men and as brethren--and least of any -where in Ireland. Confounded by ignorant and zealous magistrates with -those sterner Puritans who had lately ruled the land with a rod of iron, -and had now fallen into the position of a vanquished and prostrate -party--they were held up to ridicule in polite society, and pilloried by -the vulgar in the market-place. On the 3d of September (1667), a meeting -of these harmless people was being held in Cork when a company of -soldiers broke in upon them, made the whole congregation prisoners and -carried them before the mayor on a charge of riot and tumultuous -assembling. Seeing William Penn, the lord of Shangarry Castle and an -intimate friend of the viceroy, among the prisoners, the worthy -magistrate wished to set him at liberty on simply giving his word to -keep the peace, but not knowing that he had violated any law he refused -to enter into terms, and was sent to jail with the rest. From the prison -he wrote to his friend the Earl of Ossory--Lord President of -Munster--giving an account of his arrest and detention. An order was of -course sent to the mayor for his immediate discharge; but the incident -had made known to all the gossips of Dublin the fact that the young -courtier and soldier had turned Quaker. - -His friends at the vice-regal court were greatly distressed at this -untoward event. The earl wrote off to the admiral to inform him of his -son's danger, stating the bare facts just as they had come to his -knowledge. The family were thunderstruck. The father especially was -seriously annoyed; he thought the boy's conduct not only mad but what -was far worse in that libertine age--ridiculous. The world was beginning -to laugh at him and his family:--he could bear it no longer. He wrote in -peremptory terms, calling him to London. William obeyed without a word -of expostulation. At the first interview between father and son nothing -was said on the subject which both had so much at heart. The admiral -scrutinized the youth with searching eyes--and as he observed no change -in his costume, nor in his manner any of that formal stiffness which he -thought the only distinction of the abhorred sect, he felt re-assured. -His son was still dressed like a gentleman; he wore lace and ruffles, -plume and rapier; the graceful curls of the cavalier still fell in -natural clusters about his neck and shoulders: he began to hope that his -noble correspondent had erred in his friendly haste. But a few days -served to dissipate this illusion. He was first struck with the -circumstance that his son omitted to uncover in the presence of his -elders and superiors; and with somewhat of indignation and impatience in -his tone demanded an interview and an explanation. - -William frankly owned that he was now a Quaker. The admiral laughed at -the idea, and treating it as a passing fancy, tried to reason him out of -it. But he mistook his strength. The boy was the better theologian and -the more thorough master of all the weapons of controversy. He then fell -back on his own leading motives. A Quaker! Why, the Quakers abjured -worldly titles: and he expected to be made a peer! Had the boy turned -Independent, Anabaptist--any thing but Quaker, he might have reconciled -it to his conscience. But he had made himself one of a sect remarkable -only for absurdities which would close on him every door in courtly -circles. Then there was that question of the hat. Was he to believe that -his own son would refuse to uncover in his presence? The thing was quite -rebellious and unnatural. And to crown all--how would he behave himself -at court? Would he wear his hat in the royal presence? William paused. -He asked an hour to consider his answer--and withdrew to his own -chamber. - -This enraged the admiral more than ever. What! a son of his could -hesitate at such a question! Why, this was a question of breeding--not -of conscience. Every child uncovered to his father--every subject to his -sovereign. Could any man with the feelings and the education of a -gentleman doubt? And this boy--for whom he had worked so hard--had won -such interest--had opened such a brilliant prospect--that he, with his -practical and cultivated mind, should throw away his golden -opportunities for a mere whimsy! He felt that his patience was sorely -tried. - -After a time spent in solitude and prayer, the young man returned to his -father with the result of his meditation--a refusal. - -The indignant admiral turned him out of doors. - - - - -THE BIRTH OF CRIME--A SKETCH FROM LIFE. - - -He was scarce past his childhood, and yet, at a glance, I perceived that -he had commenced life's warfare for himself; that necessity had, with a -stern, unbending brow, pointed out to him the way he was to take, and -taught him, young as he was, that his fate must be to battle for himself -on the path of life. His very humble and tattered dress, the sorrowful -expression which had settled on his pallid yet interesting features, -told their own story, and I involuntarily sighed while observing him. -"Want alone," I mentally exclaimed, "has hitherto been his companion; -light hearts, gamboling playmates of his own years, exuberance of the -young spirit, which gives buoyancy to the foot, throws sunshine on the -heart, and 'neath whose spell all things seem beautiful--he, poor boy! -has never known. He knows naught of the green fields and flowers, of -murmuring brooks and leafy trees, amidst whose branches sweet music -dwells: in some pent-up, crowded alley is his home, and his young mind -hath been awoke in confines close, amidst scenes of toil and misery." - -The gentle and dejected expression of his countenance first attracted my -attention, and, unobserved by him, I watched his movements as he slowly -advanced down the crowded street toward the spot where I stood. -Occasionally he paused, and after looking up and down the busy -thoroughfare, apparently awaiting or looking for some expected object to -come in sight, he resumed his saunter, keeping close to the wall, so as -to avoid intercepting the way of the numbers who were hurrying past him. -The more I saw of the boy, the more was my interest in him increased, -and my desire to know what object had brought him thither. So young, -could his design be criminal? had he been initiated into the craft of -pocket-picking? did he thus linger amidst the bustle of the crowded -pathway to mark where he could successfully seize the spoil? I looked at -him more earnestly as he approached me still nearer, and I felt that in -the bare suspicion I had done him an injustice. - -While I was thus speculating on his character, he paused within a few -paces of me, and gazed earnestly down the street, where something -appeared to be exciting his attention. Following the direction of his -earnest look, I perceived at a little distance a gentleman on horseback -slowly advancing, while looking inquiringly at the houses he was -passing, as though in search of one of them in particular. He had -arrived within a few yards of the place where I stood, when he halted, -and dismounted: in an instant the boy I have spoken of was at his side, -and touching the ragged apology for a cap which he wore, evidently -tendered his services to hold the horse. The horseman cast a hasty -glance at the little fellow, and was apparently about to resign the -reins into his hands, when the door of the house before which he was -standing opened, and a servant advanced to address him. I indistinctly -caught the words "from home" and "to-morrow," when the functionary -retired to the house; the horseman remounted, and cantered down the -street, leaving the boy disappointedly and wistfully gazing after him. - -Yes, I saw the gleam which had irradiated the little fellow's face -vanish; and fancied I heard a sigh, which his young breast heaved forth -as he turned away dejectedly from the spot. Thus unsuccessful, I saw him -next, from some of the passers-by, ask charity; but so timidly, that I -saw he feared the repulse of harsh words, which, as I watched him, in -some instances met his solicitations; while others passed him without -the slightest notice. Apparently very tired, he now seated himself on a -door-step, still looking eagerly about him, as though anxious for -another opportunity to present itself, when he might, with success, -offer his services. While he was thus employed, an open carriage came -rattling up the street, and, pulling up, a lady alighted at the house -immediately opposite to where the young street-wanderer sat. I watched -the play of his features as his gaze rested upon two little fellows of -apparently his own age who were in the carriage, and who, in spite of an -elderly-looking nurse's efforts to restrain them, were gamboling with -each other rather boisterously. In the true spirit of boyish glee and -mischief, they were endeavoring with parasols to push off the hat of the -footman; who, seemingly, as much amused as themselves, while standing by -the carriage awaiting the lady's return, was giving them opportunities -to accomplish their object. Yes, right joyous were they; and with their -costly dresses, rosy cheeks, and bright eyes, presented a striking -contrast to the little fellow, who, in rags and wretchedness, from the -door-step, was earnestly observing them. I would have given much to have -known his thoughts in those moments; to have read, like the pages of a -book, the feelings of his heart, while watching them in their gambols. -There was no envy in the expression of his countenance; but, by the -fixedness of his gaze, I judged that the sight of the carriage and its -young occupants, at that juncture, had given birth to a train of -thoughts and ideas as new as they were, perhaps, saddening. Did he think -that fate had dealt hardly with him? Did he in his cogitations become -bewildered in a labyrinth of thought, in endeavoring to account for the -why of their being so differently situated? or, did fancy in his young -brain raise some strange speculation on the world and the designs of Him -who made it? - -After a short time had elapsed, the door of the house opened, and the -lady came forth; she entered the carriage, the footman mounted behind, -away they rattled down the street, and were soon out of sight. I turned -to look at the boy; he seemed to have fallen into a reverie, sitting -motionless, while his gaze rested on the part of the street where the -carriage had disappeared. - -When I again observed him, he had left his seat, and was rapidly -crossing the street, to meet a female who, attired somewhat above the -common garb, was advancing on the opposite side, and bearing in her arms -a rather bulky parcel, which she appeared inconveniently to carry. As I -had seen him salute the horseman, the street-wanderer, in addressing -her, touched his cap, and evidently tendered his services to carry the -parcel. The woman paused for a moment to look at the applicant, when, -either deeming him too diminutive for the burden, or actuated by a -spirit of economy, with some brief but decisive remark she turned from -him, and resumed her walk. At the same moment a boor of a porter, rather -than diverge from his path, knocked roughly against the boy, who was -standing on the pavement, and sent him staggering against the wall, -continuing his heavy tread onward, without as much as turning his head -to see whether or not the little fellow had fallen. - -Thus twice had I seen the cup held to his lips and dashed away; twice -had I seen him strong in hope, and twice in disappointment deep. Where -now, boy, is thy energy? where thy spirit, thy resolution? Methinks thou -needst them now. Alas! thou art but a child; and at thy age the green -fields, where birds are blithely singing, or the jocund playground with -young kindred spirits, where sport hath its daring and its perseverance -too, were more fitting place to bring forth such exalted qualities than -the crowded street--where want, perhaps, spurs thee to attempt; where -fortune frowns upon thee, and seems hope to whisper only to deceive! -Courage thou hast no more. Energy, it has left thee; else wouldst thou -not so dejectedly hang thy head, and creep along the street as though -thou wert upon forbidden ground, or trespassing in sharing the light of -the fading day and the breath of heaven with those who are heedlessly -hurrying past thee. - -After his last unsuccessful application, I next saw the dispirited -little fellow turn down a small, little-frequented street, and, with the -intention of meeting and speaking to him, I made a short _détour_, soon -gaining the opposite end of the street which I had seen him enter. The -buildings consisted entirely of warehouses, which were all closed for -the night; and knowing that he could scarcely have entered one of them, -I was not a little surprised to find the street apparently deserted. -Advancing a few paces, however, the mystery was soon solved. Nestling in -the corner of a warehouse doorway, with his head resting on his little -hand, my eyes fell upon the wanderer I was in search of. Absorbed in his -grief, I approached him unseen, unheard. Ah! need I say that he was -weeping bitterly? - -Reader, the boy had a home; I saw it; a cellar, whose bare walls and -brick-uncovered floor bespoke it the abode of poverty and misery. He was -not an orphan; for on a heap of rags, which served her for a bed, I saw -an emaciated figure which he called his mother; a brother and a sister, -too, were there, younger than my guide, and in their tattered, dirty -garments scarcely distinguishable from the bed of rags on which they -were huddled beside the dying woman. He was not an orphan; the young -street-wanderer had a father. Him, too, I saw; a rude, blear-eyed -drunkard, whose countenance it was fearful to look upon; for there might -be seen that the worst passions of our common nature had with him -obtained a perilous ascendency--a brute, whose intellect, perhaps never -bright, had become more brutal under the influence of the fire-spirit, -to which he bore conspicuous marks of being a groveling soul-and-body -slave. To me he appeared like the demon Ruin midst the wreck around. On -him, now that the wife could work no more, were they dependent. Need I -say that there were days when they scarce tasted food, when the young -wanderer had been unsuccessful in the streets? and when hungry, tired, -and dejected, he gave current to his grief, as when I found him in the -midst of his heart-breaking sorrow? - -Yes, my first surmise was painfully correct. He had, indeed, commenced -life's warfare for himself; young as he was, it was his fate to battle -his way on the path of life, and not a soul to advise and guard him -against the demon Crime, whose favorite haunts are the footsteps of the -ignorant and needy. - -Reader, how many of the victims of crime who fill our prisons, were -their histories known, would prove to have commenced life like this boy! -Not always, then, let us unpitying behold the criminal, who, in his -early manhood or the prime of life, is banished from his country, or -suffers the dread penalty of death, without reflecting how much those -who brought him into the world were concerned with so melancholy an -issue--without reflecting that, like the little fellow of whom these -pages tell, he may have had a father little better than the brute of the -field, and in his childish years have been turned out to get his -bread--a wanderer in the streets. - - - - -THE HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THO^S. MORE. - - -LIBELLUS A MARGARETA MORE, QUINDECIM ANNOS NATA, CHELSEIÆ INCEPTVS. - - * * * * * - - "Nulla dies sine linea." - - * * * * * - - CHELSEA, _June 18_. - -On asking Mr. Gunnel to what use I s^d put this fayr _libellus_, he did -suggest my making it a kinde of family register, wherein to note y^e -more important of our domestick passages, whether of joy or griefe--my -father's journies and absences--the visits of learned men, theire -notable sayings, etc. "You are smart at the pen, Mistress Margaret," he -was pleased to say; "and I woulde humblie advise your journalling in y^e -same fearless manner in the which you framed that letter which soe well -pleased the Bishop of Exeter, that he sent you a Portugal piece. 'Twill -be well to write it in English, which 'tis expedient for you not -altogether to negleckt, even for the more honourable Latin." - -Methinks I am close upon womanhood.... "Humblie advise," quotha! to me, -that hath so oft humblie sued for his pardon, and sometimes in vayn! - -'Tis well to make trial of Gonellus his "humble" advice: albeit, our -daylie course is so methodicall, that 'twill afford scant subject for -y^e pen--_Vitam continet una dies._ - - * * * * * - -... As I traced y^e last word, methoughte I heard y^e well-known tones -of Erasmus his pleasant voyce; and, looking forthe of my lattice, did -indeede beholde the deare little man coming up from y^e river side with -my father, who, because of y^e heat, had given his cloak to a tall -stripling behind him to bear. I flew up stairs, to advertise mother, who -was half in and half out of her grogram gown, and who stayed me to clasp -her owches; so that, by y^e time I had followed her down stairs, we -founde 'em alreadie in y^e hall. - -So soon as I had kissed their hands, and obtayned their blessings, the -tall lad stept forthe, and who s^d he but William Roper, returned from -my father's errand over-seas! He hath grown hugelie, and looks mannish; -but his manners are worsened insteade of bettered by forayn travell; -for, insteade of his old franknesse, he hung upon hand till father bade -him come forward; and then, as he went his rounds, kissing one after -another, stopt short when he came to me, twice made as though he would -have saluted me, and then held back, making me looke so stupid, that I -c^d have boxed his ears for his payns. 'Speciallie as father burst out -a-laughing, and cried, "The third time's lucky!" - -After supper, we took deare Erasmus entirely over y^e house, in a kind -of family procession, e'en from the buttery and scalding-house to our -own deare Academia, with its cool green curtain flapping in y^e evening -breeze, and blowing aside, as though on purpose to give a glimpse of y^e -cleare-shining Thames! Erasmus noted and admired the stone jar, placed -by Mercy Giggs on y^e table, full of blue and yellow irises, scarlet -tiger-lilies, dog-roses, honeysuckles, moonwort, and herb-trinity; and -alsoe our various desks, eache in its own little retirement,--mine own, -in speciall, so pleasantly situate! He protested, with everie semblance -of sincerity, he had never seene so pretty an academy. I should think -not, indeede! Bess, Daisy, and I, are of opinion, that there is not -likelie to be such another in y^e world. He glanced, too, at y^e books -on our desks; Bessy's being Livy; Daisy's, Sallust; and mine, St. -Augustine, with father's marks where I was to read, and where desist. He -tolde Erasmus, laying his hand fondlie on my head, "Here is one who -knows what is implied in the word Trust." Dear father, well I may! He -added, "There was no law against laughing in _his_ academia, for -that his girls knew how to be merry and wise." - -From the house to the new building, the chapel and gallery, and thence -to visitt all the dumbe kinde, from the great horned owls to Cecy's pet -dormice. Erasmus was amused at some of theire names, and doubted whether -Dun Scotus and the venerable Bede would have thoughte themselves -complimented in being made name-fathers to a couple of owls; though he -admitted that Argus and Juno were goode cognomens for peacocks. Will -Roper hath broughte mother a pretty little forayn animal called a -marmot, but she sayd she had noe time for such-like playthings, and bade -him give it to his little wife. Methinks, I being neare sixteen and he -close upon twenty, we are too old for those childish names now, nor am I -much flattered at a present not intended for me; however, I shall be -kind to the little creature, and, perhaps, grow fond of it, as 'tis both -harmlesse and diverting. - -To return, howbeit, to Erasmus; Cecy, who had hold of his gown, and had -alreadie, through his familiar kindnesse and her own childish -heedlessness, somewhat transgrest bounds, began now in her mirthe to -fabricate a dialogue, she pretended to have overhearde, between Argus -and Juno as they stoode pearcht on a stone parapet. Erasmus was -entertayned with her garrulitie for a while, but at length gentlie -checkt her, with "Love y^e truth, little mayd, love y^e truth, or, if -thou liest, let it be with a circumstance," a qualification which made -mother stare and father laugh. - -Sayth Erasmus, "There is no harm in a fabella, apologus, or parabola, so -long as its character be distinctlie recognised for such, but -contrariwise, much goode; and y^e same hath been sanctioned, not only -by y^e wiser heads of Greece and Rome, but by our deare Lord himself. -Therefore, Cecilie, whom I love exceedinglie, be not abasht, child, at -my reproof, for thy dialogue between the two peacocks was innocent no -less than ingenious, till thou wouldst have insisted that they, in -sooth, sayd something like what thou didst invent. Therein thou didst -violence to y^e truth, which St. Paul hath typified by a girdle, to be -worn next the heart, and that not only confineth within due limits but -addeth strength. So now be friends; wert thou more than eleven and I no -priest, thou shouldst be my little wife, and darn my hose, and make me -sweet marchpane, such as thou and I love. But, oh! this pretty Chelsea! -What daisies! what buttercups! what joviall swarms of gnats! The country -all about is as nice and flat as Rotterdam." - -Anon, we sit down to rest and talk in the pavillion. - -Sayth Erasmus to my father, "I marvel you have never entered into the -king's service in some publick capacitie, wherein your learning and -knowledge, bothe of men and things, would not onlie serve your own -interest, but that of your friends and y^e publick." - -Father smiled and made answer, "I am better and happier as I am. As for -my friends, I alreadie do for them alle I can, soe as they can hardlie -consider me in their debt; and, for myself, y^e yielding to theire -solicitations that I w^d putt myself forward for the benefit of the -world in generall, w^d be like printing a book at request of friends, -that y^e publick may be charmed with what, in fact, it values at a doit. -The cardinall offered me a pension, as retaining fee to the king a -little while back, but I tolde him I did not care to be a mathematical -point, to have position without magnitude." - -Erasmus laught and sayd, "I woulde not have you y^e slave of anie king; -howbeit, you mighte assist him and be useful to him." - -"The change of the word," sayth father, "does not alter the matter; I -shoulde _be_ a slave, as completely as if I had a collar rounde my -neck." - -"But would not increased usefulnesse," says Erasmus, "make you happier?" - -"Happier?" says father, somewhat heating; "how can that be compassed in -a way so abhorrent to my genius? At present, I live as I will, to which -very few courtiers can pretend. Half-a-dozen blue-coated serving-men -answer my turn in the house, garden, field, and on the river: I have a -few strong horses for work, none for show, plenty of plain food for a -healthy family, and enough, with a hearty welcome, for a score of guests -that are not dainty. The lengthe of my wife's train infringeth not the -statute; and, for myself, I soe hate bravery, that my motto is, 'Of -those whom you see in scarlet, not one is happy.' I have a regular -profession, which supports my house, and enables me to promote peace and -justice; I have leisure to chat with my wife, and sport with my -children; I have hours for devotion, and hours for philosophie and y^e -liberall arts, which are absolutelie medicinall to me, as antidotes to -y^e sharpe but contracted habitts of mind engendered by y^e law. If -there be aniething in a court life which can compensate for y^e losse of -anie of these blessings, deare Desiderius, pray tell me what it is, for -I confesse I know not." - -"You are a comicall genius," says Erasmus. - -"As for you," retorted father, "you are at your olde trick of arguing on -y^e wrong side, as you did y^e firste time we mett. Nay, don't we know -you can declaime backward and forwarde on the same argument, as you did -on y^e Venetian war?" - -Erasmus smiled quietlie, and sayd, "What coulde I do? The pope changed -his holy mind." Whereat father smiled too. - -"What nonsense you learned men sometimes talk!" pursues father. -"I--wanted at court, quotha! Fancy a dozen starving men with one roasted -pig betweene them;--do you think they would be really glad to see a -thirteenth come up, with an eye to a small piece of y^e crackling? No; -believe me, there is none that courtiers are more sincerelie respectfull -to than the man who avows he hath no intention of attempting to go -shares; and e'en him they care mighty little about, for they love none -with true tendernesse save themselves." - -"We shall see you at court yet," says Erasmus. - -Sayth father, "Then I will tell you in what guise. With a fool-cap and -bells. Pish! I won't aggravate you, churchman as you are, by alluding to -the blessings I have which you have not; and I trow there is as much -danger in taking you for serious when you are onlie playful and -ironicall as if you were Plato himself." - -Sayth Erasmus, after some minutes' silence, "I know full well that you -holde Plato, in manie instances, to be sporting when I accept him in -very deed and truth. _Speculating_ he often was; as a brighte, pure -flame must needs be struggling up, and, if it findeth no direct vent, -come forthe of y^e oven's mouth. He was like a man shut into a vault, -running hither and thither, with his poor, flickering taper, agonizing -to get forthe, and holding himself in readinesse to make a spring -forward the moment a door s^d open. But it never did. 'Not manie wise -are called.' He had clomb a hill in y^e darke, and stoode calling to his -companions below, 'Come on, come on! this way lies y^e east; I am -advised we shall see the sun rise anon.' But they never did. What a -Christian he woulde have made! Ah! he is one now. He and Socrates--the -veil long removed from their eyes--are sitting at Jesus' feet. Sancte -Socrates, ora pro nobis!" - -Bessie and I exchanged glances at this so strange ejaculation; but y^e -subjeckt was of such interest, that we listened with deep attention to -what followed. - -Sayth father, "Whether Socrates were what Plato painted him in his -dialogues, is with me a great matter of doubte; but it is not of -moment. When so many contemporaries coulde distinguishe y^e fancifulle -from y^e fictitious, Plato's object coulde never have beene to -_deceive_. There is something higher in art than gross imitation. He who -attempteth it is always the leaste successfull; and his failure hath the -odium of a discovered lie; whereas, to give an avowedlie fabulous -narrative a consistence within itselfe which permitts y^e reader to be, -for y^e time, voluntarilie deceived, is as artfulle as it is allowable. -Were I to construct a tale, I woulde, as you sayd to Cecy, lie with a -circumstance, but shoulde consider it noe compliment to have my unicorns -and hippogriffs taken for live animals. Amicus Plato, amicus Socrates, -magis tamen amica veritas. Now, Plato had a much higher aim than to give -a very pattern of Socrates his snub nose. He wanted a peg to hang his -thoughts upon--" - -"A peg? A statue of Phidias," interrupts Erasmus. - -"A statue by Phidias, to clothe in y^e most beautiful drapery," sayth -father; "no matter that y^e drapery was his own, he wanted to show it to -the best advantage, and to y^e honour rather than prejudice of the -statue. And, having clothed y^e same, he got a spark of Prometheus his -fire, and made the aforesayd statue walk and talk to the glory of gods -and men, and sate himself quietlie down in a corner. By the way, -Desiderius, why shouldst thou not submitt thy subtletie to the rules of -a colloquy? Set Eckius and Martin Luther by the ears! Ha! man, what -sport! Heavens! if I were to compound a tale or a dialogue, what -crotches and quips of mine own woulde I not putt into my puppets' -mouths! and then have out my laugh behind my vizard, as when we used to -act burlesques before Cardinall Morton. What rare sporte we had, one -Christmas, with a mummery we called the 'Triall of Feasting!' Dinner and -Supper were broughte up before my Lord Chief Justice, charged with -murder. Theire accomplices were Plum-pudding, Mince-pye, Surfeit, -Drunkenness, and suchlike. Being condemned to hang by y^e neck, I, who -was Supper, stuft out with I cannot tell you how manie pillows, began to -call lustilie for a confessor; and, on his stepping forthe, commenct a -list of all y^e fitts, convulsions, spasms, payns in y^e head, and so -forthe, I had inflicted on this one and t'other. 'Alas! good father,' -says I, 'King John layd his death at my door; indeede, there's scarce a -royall or noble house that hath not a charge agaynst me; and I'm sorelie -afrayd' (giving a poke at a fat priest that sate at my lord cardinall's -elbow) 'I shall have the death of _that_ holy man to answer for.'" - -Erasmus laughed, and sayd, "Did I ever tell you of the retort of -Willibald Pirkheimer. A monk, hearing him praise me somewhat lavishly to -another, could not avoid expressing by his looks great disgust and -dissatisfaction; and, on being askt whence they arose, confest he c^d -not, with patience, hear y^e commendation of a man soe notoriously fond -of eating fowls. 'Does he steal them?' says Pirkheimer. 'Surely no,' -says y^e monk. 'Why, then,' quoth Willibald, 'I know of a fox who is ten -times the greater rogue; for, look you, he helps himself to many a fat -hen from my roost without ever offering to pay me. But tell me now, dear -father, is it then a sin to eat fowls?' 'Most assuredlie it is,' says -the monk, 'if you indulge in them to gluttony.' 'Ah! if, if!' quoth -Pirkheimer. 'If stands stiff, as the Lacedemonians told Philip of -Macedon; and 'tis not by eating bread alone, my dear father, you have -acquired that huge paunch of yours. I fancy, if all the fat fowls that -have gone into it coulde raise their voices and cackle at once, they -woulde make noise enow to drown y^e drums and trumpets of an army.' Well -may Luther say," continued Erasmus, laughing, "that theire fasting is -easier to them than our eating to us; seeing that every man Jack of them -hath to his evening meal two quarts of beer, a quart of wine, and as -manie as he can eat of spice cakes, the better to relish his drink. -While I--'tis true my stomach is Lutheran, but my heart is Catholic; -that's as heaven made me, and I'll be judged by you alle, whether I am -not as thin as a weasel." - -'Twas now growing dusk, and Cecy's tame hares were just beginning to be -on y^e alert, skipping across our path, as we returned towards the -house, jumping over one another, and raysing 'emselves on theire hind -legs to solicitt our notice. Erasmus was amused at theire gambols, and -at our making them beg for vine-tendrils; and father told him there was -hardlie a member of y^e householde who had not a dumb pet of some sort. -"I encourage the taste in them," he sayd, "not onlie because it fosters -humanitie and affords harmless recreation, but because it promotes -habitts of forethought and regularitie. No child or servant of mine hath -liberty to adopt a pet which he is too lazy or nice to attend to -himself. A little management may enable even a young gentlewoman to do -this, without soyling her hands; and to neglect giving them proper food -at proper times entayls a disgrace of which everie one of 'em w^d be -ashamed. But, hark! there is the vesper-bell." - -As we passed under a pear-tree, Erasmus told us, with much drollerie, of -a piece of boyish mischief of his--the theft of some pears off a -particular tree, the fruit of which the superior of his convent had -meant to reserve to himself. One morning, Erasmus had climbed the tree, -and was feasting to his great content, when he was aware of the superior -approaching to catch him in y^e fact; soe, quicklie slid down to the -ground, and made off in y^e opposite direction, limping as he went. The -malice of this act consisted in its being the counterfeit of the gait of -a poor lame lay brother, who was, in fact, smartlie punisht for Erasmus -his misdeede. Our friend mentioned this with a kinde of remorse, and -observed to my father, "Men laugh at the sins of young people and -little children, as if they were little sins; albeit, the robbery of an -apple or cherry-orchard is as much a breaking of the eighth commandment -as the stealing of a leg of mutton from a butcher's stall, and ofttimes -with far less excuse. Our Church tells us, indeede, of venial sins, such -as the theft of an apple or a pin; but, I think" (looking hard at -Cecilie and Jack), "even the youngest among us could tell how much sin -and sorrow was brought into the world by stealing an apple." - -At bedtime, Bess and I did agree in wishing that alle learned men were -as apt to unite pleasure with profit in theire talk as Erasmus. There be -some that can write after y^e fashion of Paul, and others preach like -unto Apollos; but this, methinketh, is scattering seed by the wayside, -like the great Sower. - - * * * * * - -'Tis singular, the love that Jack and Cecy have for one another; it -resembleth that of twins. Jack is not forward at his booke; on y^e other -hand, he hath a resolution of character which Cecy altogether wants. -Last night, when Erasmus spake of children's sins, I observed her -squeeze Jack's hand with alle her mighte. I know what she was thinking -of. Having bothe beene forbidden to approach a favorite part of y^e -river bank which had given way from too much use, one or y^e other of em -transgressed, as was proven by y^e smalle footprints in y^e mud, as well -as by a nosegay of flowers, that grow not, save by the river; to wit, -purple loose-strife, cream-and-codlins, scorpion-grass, water plantain, -and the like. Neither of them would confesse, and Jack was, therefore, -sentenced to be whipt. As he walked off with Mr. Drew, I observed Cecy -turn soe pale, that I whispered father I was certayn she was guilty. He -made answer, "Never mind, we cannot beat a girl, and 'twill answer y^e -same purpose; in flogging him we flog both." Jack bore the first stripe -or two, I suppose, well enow, but at lengthe we hearde him cry out, on -which Cecy coulde not forbeare to do y^e same, and then stopt bothe her -ears. I expected everie moment to hear her say, "Father, 'twas I;" but -no, she had not courage for that; onlie, when Jack came forthe all -smirked with tears, she put her arm aboute his neck, and they walked off -together into the nuttery. Since that hour, she hath beene more devoted -to him than ever, if possible; and he, boy-like, finds satisfaction in -making her his little slave. But the beauty lay in my father's -improvement of y^e circumstance. Taking Cecy on his knee that evening -(for she was not ostensiblie in disgrace), he beganne to talk of -atonement and mediation for sin, and who it was that bare our sins for -us on the tree. 'Tis thus he turns y^e daylie accidents of our quiet -lives into lessons of deepe import, not pedanticallie delivered, ex -cathedrâ, but welling forthe from a full and fresh mind. - -This morn I had risen before dawn, being minded to meditate on sundrie -matters before Bess was up and doing, she being given to much talk -during her dressing, and made my way to y^e pavillion, where, methought, -I s^d be quiet enow; but beholde! father and Erasmus were there before -me, in fluent and earneste discourse. I w^d have withdrawne, but father, -without interrupting his sentence, puts his arm rounde me and draweth me -to him, soe there I sit, my head on 's shoulder, and mine eyes on -Erasmus his face. - -From much they spake, and other much I guessed, they had beene -conversing y^e present state of y^e Church, and how much it needed -renovation. - -Erasmus sayd, y^e vices of y^e Clergy and ignorance of y^e vulgar had -now come to a poynt, at the which, a remedie must be founde, or y^e -whole fabric w^d falle to pieces. - ---Sayd, the revival of learning seemed appoynted by heaven for some -greate purpose, 'twas difficulte to say how greate. - ---Spake of y^e new art of printing, and its possible consequents. - ---Of y^e active and fertile minds at present turning up new ground and -ferreting out old abuses. - ---Of the abuse of monachism, and of y^e evil lives of conventualls. In -special, of y^e fanaticism and hypocrisie of y^e Dominicans. - -Considered y^e evills of y^e times such, as that societie must shortlie, -by a vigorous effort, shake 'em off. - -Wondered at y^e patience of the laitie for soe manie generations, but -thoughte 'em now waking from theire sleepe. The people had of late -beganne to know theire physickall power, and to chafe at y^e weighte of -theire yoke. - -Thoughte the doctrine of indulgences altogether bad and false. - -Father sayd, that y^e graduallie increast severitie of Church discipline -concerning minor offences had become such as to render indulgences y^e -needfulle remedie for burdens too heavie to be borne.--Condemned a -Draconic code, that visitted even sins of discipline with y^e extream -penaltie.--Quoted how ill such excessive severitie answered in our owne -land, with regard to y^e civill law; twenty thieves oft hanging together -on y^e same gibbet, yet robberie noe whit abated. - -Othermuch to same purport, y^e which, if alle set downe, woulde too -soone fill my libellus. At length, unwillinglie brake off, when the bell -rang us to matins. - -At breakfaste, William and Rupert were earneste with my father to let -'em row him to Westminster, which he was disinclined to, as he was for -more speede, and had promised Erasmus an earlie caste to Lambeth; -howbeit, he consented that they s^d pull us up to Putney in y^e evening, -and William s^d have y^e stroke-oar. Erasmus sayd, he must thank y^e -archbishop for his present of a horse; "tho' I'm full faine," he -observed, "to believe it a changeling. He is idle and gluttonish, as -thin as a wasp, and as ugly as sin. Such a horse, and such a rider!" - -In the evening, Will and Rupert made 'emselves spruce enow, with -nosegays and ribbons and we tooke water bravelie--John Harris in y^e -stern, playing the recorder. We had the six-oared barge; and when Rupert -Allington was tired of pulling, Mr. Clement tooke his oar; and when _he_ -wearied, John Harris gave over playing y^e pipe; but William and Mr. -Gunnel never flagged. - -Erasmus was full of his visitt to y^e archbishop, who, as usuall, I -think, had given him some money. - -"We sate down two hundred to table," sayth he; "there was fish, flesh, -and fowl; but Wareham onlie played with his knife, and drank noe wine. -He was very cheerfulle and accessible; he knows not what pride is; and -yet, of how much mighte he be proude! What genius! what erudition! what -kindnesse and modesty! From Wareham, who ever departed in sorrow?" - -Landing at Fulham, we had a brave ramble thro' y^e meadows. Erasmus -noting y^e poor children a gathering y^e dandelion and milk-thistle for -the herb-market, was avised to speak of forayn herbes and theire uses, -bothe for food and medicine. - -"For me," says father "there is manie a plant I entertayn in my garden -and paddock which y^e fastidious woulde cast forthe. I like to teache my -children y^e uses of common things--to know, for instance, y^e uses of -y^e flowers and weeds that grow in our fields and hedges. Manie a poor -knave's pottage woulde be improved, if he were skilled in y^e properties -of y^e burdock and purple orchis, lady's-smock, brook-lime, and old -man's pepper. The roots of wild succory and water arrow-head mighte -agreeablie change his Lenten diet; and glasswort afford him a pickle for -his mouthfulle of salt-meat. Then, there are cresses and wood-sorrel to -his breakfast, and salep for his hot evening mess. For his medicine, -there is herb-twopence, that will cure a hundred ills; camomile, to lull -a raging tooth; and the juice of buttercup to cleare his head by -sneezing. Vervain cureth ague; and crowfoot affords y^e leaste painfulle -of blisters. St. Anthony's turnip is an emetic; goosegrass sweetens the -blood; woodruffe is good for the liver; and bind-weed hath nigh as much -virtue as y^e forayn scammony. Pimpernel promoteth laughter; and poppy -sleep: thyme giveth pleasant dreams; and an ashen branch drives evil -spirits from y^e pillow. As for rosemarie, I lett it run alle over my -garden walls, not onlie because my bees love it, but because 'tis the -herb sacred to remembrance, and, therefore, to friendship, whence a -sprig of it hath a dumb language that maketh y^e chosen emblem at our -funeral wakes, and in our buriall grounds. Howbeit, I am a schoolboy -prating in presence of his master, for here is John Clement at my elbow, -who is the best botanist and herbalist of us all." - ---Returning home, y^e youths being warmed with rowing, and in high -spiritts, did entertayn themselves and us with manie jests and playings -upon words, some of 'em forced enow, yet provocative of laughing. -Afterwards, Mr. Gunnel proposed enigmas and curious questions. Among -others, he woulde know which of y^e famous women of Greece or Rome we -maidens w^d resemble. Bess was for Cornelia, Daisy for Clelia, but I for -Damo, daughter of Pythagoras, which William Roper deemed stupid enow, -and thoughte I mighte have found as good a daughter, that had not died a -maid. Sayth Erasmus, with his sweet, inexpressible smile, "Now I will -tell you, lads and lassies, what manner of man _I_ w^d be, if I -were not Erasmus. I woulde step back some few years of my life, and be -half-way 'twixt thirty and forty; I would be pious and profounde enow -for y^e church, albeit noe churchman; I woulde have a blythe, stirring, -English wife, and half-a-dozen merrie girls and boys, an English -homestead, neither hall nor farm, but betweene both; but neare enow to -y^e citie for convenience, but away from its noise. I woulde have a -profession, that gave me some hours daylie of regular businesse, that -s^d let men know my parts, and court me into publick station, for which -my taste made me rather withdrawe. I woulde have such a private -independence, as s^d enable me to give and lend, rather than beg and -borrow. I woulde encourage mirthe without buffoonerie, ease without -negligence; my habitt and table shoulde be simple, and for my looks I -woulde be neither tall nor short, fat nor lean, rubicund nor sallow, but -of a fayr skin with blue eyes, brownish beard, and a countenance -engaging and attractive, soe that alle of my companie coulde not choose -but love me." - -"Why, then, you woulde be father himselfe," cried Cecy, clasping his arm -in bothe her hands with a kind of rapture, and, indeede, y^e portraiture -was soe like, we coulde not but smile at y^e resemblance. - -Arrived at y^e landing, father protested he was wearie with his ramble, -and, his foot slipping, he wrenched his ankle, and sate for an instante -on a barrow, the which one of y^e men had left with his garden tools, -and before he c^d rise or cry out, William, laughing, rolled him up to -y^e house-door; which, considering father's weight, was much for a -stripling to doe. Father sayd the same, and, laying his hand on Will's -shoulder with kindnesse, cried, "Bless thee, my boy, but I woulde not -have thee overstrayned, like Biton and Clitobus." - - (_To be continued._) - - - - -SKETCH OF A MISER. - - -John Overs was a miser, living in the old days when popery flourished, -and friars abounded in England. Some of his vices and eccentricities -have been chronicled in a little tract of great rarity, entitled "The -True History of the Life and Death of John Overs, and of his Daughter -Mary, who caused the Church of St. Mary Overs to be built." But in -giving the particulars of his life, we do not vouch for their -authenticity: the tract resembles too strongly a chap book to bear the -marks of honest truth; yet the anecdotes are amusing, and the tradition -of the miser's pretty daughter reads somewhat romantic. - -John Overs was a Southwark ferryman, and he obtained, by paying an -annual sum to the city authorities, a monopoly in the trade of conveying -passengers across the river. He soon grew rich, and became the master of -numerous servants and apprentices. From his first increase of wealth, he -put his money out to use on such profitable terms, that he rapidly -amassed a fortune almost equal to that of the first nobleman in the -land; yet, notwithstanding this speedy accumulation of wealth, in his -habits, housekeeping, and expenses, he bore the appearance of the most -abject poverty, and was so eager after gain, that even in his old age, -and when his body had become weak by unnecessary deprivations, he would -labor incessantly, and allow himself no rest or repose. This most -miserly wretch, it is said, had a daughter, remarkable both for her -piety and beauty; the old man, in spite of his parsimonious habits, -retained some affection for his child, and bestowed upon her a somewhat -liberal education. - -Mary Overs had no sympathy with the avarice and selfishness of her -parent: she grew up endowed with amiability, and with a true maiden's -heart to love. As she approached womanhood, her dazzling charms -attracted numerous suitors; but the miser refused all matrimonial -offers, and even declined to negociate the matter on any terms, although -some of wealth and rank were willing to wed with the ferryman's -daughter. Mary was kept a close prisoner, and forbidden to bestow her -smiles upon any of her admirers, nor were any allowed to speak with her; -but love and nature will conquer bolts and bars, as well as fear; and -one of her suitors took the opportunity, while the miser was busy -picking up his penny fares, to get admitted to her company. The first -interview pleased well; another was granted and arranged, which pleased -still better; and a third ended in a mutual plighting of their troths. -During all these transactions at home, the silly old ferryman was still -busy with his avocation, not dreaming but that things were as secure on -land as they were on water. - -John Overs was of a disposition so wretched and miserly, that he even -begrudged his servants their necessary food. He used to buy black -puddings, which were then sold in London at a penny a yard; and whenever -he gave them their allowance, he used to say, "There, you hungry dogs, -you will undo me with eating." He would scarcely allow a neighbor to -obtain a light from his candle, lest he should in some way impoverish -him by taking some of its light. He used to go to market to search for -bargains: he bought the siftings of the coarsest meal, looked out -eagerly for marrow-bones that could be purchased for a trifle, and -scrupled not to convert them into soup if they were mouldy. He bought -the stalest bread, and he used to cut it into slices, "that, taking the -air, it might become the harder to be eaten." Sometimes he would buy -meat so tainted, that even his dog would refuse it; upon which -occasions, he used to say that it was a dainty cur, and better fed than -taught, and then eat it himself. He needed no cats, for all the rats and -mice voluntarily left the house, as nothing was cast aside from which -they could obtain a picking. - -It is said that this sordid old man resorted one day to a most singular -stratagem, for the purpose of saving a day's provision in his -establishment. He counterfeited illness, and pretended to die; he -compelled his daughter to assist in the deception, much against her -inclination. Overs imagined that, like good Catholics, his servants -would not be so unnatural as to partake of food while his body was above -ground, but would lament his loss, and observe a rigid fast; when the -day was over, he intended to feign a sudden recovery. He was laid out as -dead, and wrapt in a sheet; a candle was placed at his head, in -accordance with the popish custom of the age. His apprentices were -informed of their master's death; but, instead of manifesting grief, -they gave vent to the most unbounded joy; hoping, at last, to be -released from their hard and penurious servitude. They hastened to -satisfy themselves of the truth of this joyful news, and seeing him laid -out as dead, could not even restrain their feelings in the presence of -death, but actually danced and skipped around the corpse; tears or -lamentations they had none; and as to fasting, an empty belly admits of -no delay. In the ebullition of their joy, one ran into the kitchen, and -breaking open the cupboard, brought out the bread; another ran for the -cheese, and brought it forth in triumph; and the third drew a flagon of -ale. They all sat down in high glee, congratulating and rejoicing among -themselves, at having been so unexpectedly released from their bonds of -servitude. Hard as it was, the bread rapidly disappeared; they indulged -in huge slices of cheese, even ventured to cast aside the parings, and -to take copious draughts of the miser's ale. The old man lay all this -time struck with horror at this awful prodigality, and enraged at their -mutinous disrespect: flesh and blood--at least, the flesh and blood of a -miser--could endure it no longer; and starting up he caught hold of the -funeral taper, determined to chastise them for their waste. One of them -seeing the old man struggling in the sheet, and thinking it was the -devil or a ghost, and becoming alarmed, caught hold of the butt end of a -broken oar, and at one blow struck out his brains! "Thus," says the -tradition, "he who thought only to counterfeit death, occasioned it in -earnest; and the law acquitted the fellow of the act, as he was the -prime cause of his own death." The daughter's lover, hearing of the -death of old Overs, hastened up to London with all possible speed; but -riding fast, his horse unfortunately threw him, just as he was entering -the city, and broke his neck. This, with her father's death, had such an -effect on the spirits of Mary Overs, that she was almost frantic, and -being troubled with a numerous train of suitors, she resolved to -retire into a nunnery, and to devote the whole of her wealth, which was -enormous, to purposes of charity and religion. She laid the foundation -of "a famous church, which at her own charge was finished, and by her -dedicated to the Virgin Mary." This, tradition says, was the origin of -St. Mary Overs, Southwark, a name which it received in memory of its -beautiful, but unfortunate foundress. - -On an old sepulchre, in St. Saviour's church, may be seen to this day, -reclining in no very easy posture, the figure of a poor, -emaciated-looking being; which rumor has declared to be the figure of -John Overs, the ferryman. There is not much to warrant the conclusion, -except, perhaps, the similarity which the mind might discover in the -stone effigy and the aspect with which, in idea, we instinctively endow -all such objects of penury. The figure looks thin enough for a man who -lived on the pickings of stale bones, and musty bread, it must be -allowed; and the countenance certainly looks miserly enough for any -miser; but then the marble tablet above merely tells the passer by that -the body of one William Emerson lyeth there, "who departed out of this -life," one day in June, in the year 1575. - -The curious little tract from which we have gleaned many of the above -particulars, gives a very different account of the miser's -burying-place. On account, it is said, of his usury, extortion, and the -general sordidness of his life, he had been excommunicated, and refused -Christian burial; but the daughter, by large sums of money, endeavored -to bribe the friars of Bermondsey Abbey to get him buried. As my lord -abbot happened to be away from home, the holy brothers took the money, -and buried him within the cloister. The abbot on his return seeing a new -grave, inquired who, in his absence, had been buried there; and on being -informed, he ordered it to be immediately disinterred, and be laid on -the back of an ass; then muttering some benediction, or, perhaps, an -anathema, he turned the beast from the abbey gates. "The ass went with a -solemn pace, unguided by any, through Kent Street, till it came to St. -Thomas-a-Watering, which was then the common execution place; and then -shook him off, just under the gallows, where a grave was instantly made, -and, without any ceremony, he was tumbled in, and covered with earth." - -While we abhor the abuse, and think it well to guard others by hideous -examples of its folly and vice, we can appreciate and participate in its -general use. We look upon it as a solemn duty in men, whether regarded -as citizens or fathers of families, to practice a prudent economy; and -the man who is frugal without being avaricious--who is parsimonious -without being sordid--we regard as fulfilling one of his greatest social -duties. If economy is a virtue, wastefulness is a sin; and yet how many -weekly glory in being thought extravagant! Ruined spendthrifts will -boast of their meanless prodigality and their wasteful dissipation, as -if in their past liberal selfishness they could claim some forbearance -for their present disrepute, or some compassion for the misfortunes into -which their own heedlessness has thrown them. The learned, too, will -disdain all knowledge of the dull routine of economy, and proclaim their -ignorance of the affairs of life, as if the confession endowed them with -a virtue; but perfection is not the privilege of any order of men, and -many who ought to have been the monitors of mankind, whose talents have -made their names immortal, embittered their lives, and impaired the -vigor of their intellects by their thoughtless and wanton extravagance. - - - - -AN INCIDENT OF THE FIRST FRENCH REVOLUTION. - - -In the winter of the year 1792, Paris was agitated to the very core, by -the most important public question which had yet arisen during the -course of the Revolution. The people had hitherto been completely -triumphant in their attack on established things. They had overturned -the throne, and sent its supporters by thousands to the scaffold or to -exile. They had subverted the ancient constitution; and, though no new -form of government had yet been arranged, all power lay for the time in -the hands of their leaders, of one or another denomination of -republicans. The Jacobins, ultimately the dominant faction, had not yet -obtained full sway, but had to contend for supremacy in the convention -(or senate) of the nation, with the Girondists, a section numbering in -its ranks many of the most able and more moderate republicans of France. -Daily and bitterly did these two parties struggle at this time against -one another--Robespierre, Danton, and Marat being the virtual chiefs, -whether acting in unison or otherwise, of the Jacobins or violent -republicans; while Vergniaud, Guadet, Louvet, Salle, Petion, and others, -headed the Girondists or moderates. Matters stood thus before the -commencement of the trial of Louis XVI., the question already alluded to -as exceeding in importance and interest any to which the Revolution had -yet given birth. On the results of the process hung the life of the -king; and men speculated as to the issue with anxiety, mingled with fear -and wonderment. Doubts existed as to what might be that issue--doubts -excited chiefly by the condition of parties just described. On the -whole, the chances seemed in favor of the king before the commencement -of his trial, seeing that the Girondists had then a decided ascendency -over their rivals in the convention, and that many of them had strong -leanings to the side of mercy. But the unfortunate Louis XVI., whose -very mildness made him the scape-goat for the errors of his -predecessors, stood in mortal peril in the best view of the case. So -felt his friends throughout France, and they were yet numerous, though -constrained to look on in silence, and bury their feelings in their own -bosoms. - -One evening, in the winter mentioned, before the trial of the king had -opened, the convention broke up after a stormy sitting, and its members -separated for their clubs or their homes, to intrigue or to recreate, as -they felt inclined. The Girondist leaders, Vergniaud, Guadet, Fonfrene, -and others, might then have been seen, as they left the place of -sitting, to surround a young man who was speaking loudly and vehemently. -His theme was Robespierre; and bitter were the recriminations which he -poured on that too famous individual. Vergniaud and the rest attempted -to check the outbursts of wrath, but, at the same time, with peals of -laughter at their young colleague's angry violence. - -"Come home with me, my good Barbaroux," said Vergniaud; "we shall hear -you more comfortably before a good fire. It is piercingly cold, and I -promise you, that, if the vines of Medoc have to sustain such a season, -we need not expect to drink Bordeaux at a reasonable price for fifteen -years to come." - -"Fifteen years!" said Guadet, in a melancholy voice; "and do you then -count upon living for another fifteen years, Vergniaud?" - -"Why not?" was the answer; "am I a king that I should fear the anger of -the Republic?" - -At this moment, a little Savoyard, with his stool at his back, threw -himself almost betwixt the legs of Vergniaud, and, holding out a letter, -exclaimed, "Which of you, citizens, is the representative Barbaroux?" - -"Here," said Vergniaud, taking the letter from the lad, and handing it -to his companion, the irritated young deputy above mentioned, "here is a -billet for you, Barbaroux. I should guess that it comes from some -ex-marchioness, who wishes to know if the judges of the king are formed -like other men, or if you have got horns on your head, and a cloven -foot." - -Barbaroux, at this time little more than twenty-seven years of age, was -one of the most handsome, as well as beautiful men of his time. Madame -Roland, in one phrase, has given us a singular idea of his personal -attractions. "He had," she says, "the head of Antinous upon the frame of -a Hercules." The young representative of Marseilles (for such was his -station) took the note of the Savoyard, and, advancing to a lamp, opened -it, and read therein the following words: - -"Citizen, if you fear not to accede to an invitation which can not be -signed, repair this evening, at nine o'clock, to the street St. Honore, -where you will find a coach standing in front of the house, No. 56. -Enter the vehicle without fear, and it will conduct you among old -friends." - -Turning to his companions, after reading this mystic note, Barbaroux -observed, "You are right, Vergniaud; it is a communication from an -ex-marchioness." - -"Ah! I thought so," replied the other; "and will you accept the -invitation?" - -"I know not," was the careless response. - -Barbaroux was young, and, without being exactly weary of the agitated -public life which he habitually led, felt any circumstance calculated to -take him out of it for a time as a piece of good fortune not to be -contemned. He deceived Vergniaud, therefore, when he affected to treat -the matter of the billet lightly. In fact, it seized upon his thoughts -exclusively; and he not only spoke no more of Robespierre to his -friends, but quitted them upon some slight pretext soon afterward. He -then returned directly to his own home; and, when there, delivered -himself up to conjectures respecting the mysterious epistle which he had -received. Barbaroux was young, be it again observed, and of a -temperament not indisposed to gallantry, though the softer concerns of -life had been all but banished from his thoughts more lately. However, -the anonymous billet, which came, he felt assured, from a female, -directed his reflections into a train once not so unfamiliar to them, -and the more so as it spoke of his meeting "old friends." With -impatience, therefore, he watched the movements of his time-piece, as it -indicated the gradual approach of the hour of appointment. The -Marseillaise representative felt no personal alarm respecting the coming -adventure. He had never been an advocate of bloodshed in his public -character, and knew of none likely to entertain against him sentiments -of hostility, or to project snares for his life. No; he confidently -assumed the object of the unknown correspondent to be friendly. - -Enough, however, about the anticipations of Barbaroux. The hour of nine -came, and he hastily left his own residence, to proceed to the Rue St. -Honore. There, opposite to No. 56, he found a coach in waiting. Without -a word, he opened the door, leaped inside, and shut himself up with his -own hands. In a moment the coachman lashed his horses, and Barbaroux -felt himself whirled along for an hour with such rapidity, as, together -with the obscurity of the evening, to prevent him completely from -discerning the route taken. At length the vehicle stopped abruptly, in a -petty street, and before a house of sufficiently mediocre appearance. -The gate opened instantly, and the driver, descending from his seat, -silently showed Barbaroux into the house, after which the door was -closed behind. The young man now found himself in a passage of some -length, as was shown by a distant light. That light speedily increased, -and the visitor perceived a young girl approaching him with a lamp in -her hand--one of those old iron lamps in which the oil floats openly, -and which have the wick at one of the sides. Barbaroux was instantly -reminded of the fisher-cots of Marseilles--his own well-known -Marseilles--where such articles are used constantly by the fishing -community. Casting his eyes attentively on the girl, he saw more to -remind him of the same ancient sea-port--her cap, colored kerchief, and -dress generally, being such as its young women always wore. Her face, -too, was not a strange one. Moreover the odor of tar, or that smell -peculiar to well-used cordage and sails, struck forcibly on his senses, -and strengthened the same associative recollections. Astonished -already, Barbaroux felt still more so, when a once familiar voice -addressed him in accents strongly provincial, or Marseillaise. - -"Charles," said the girl with the lamp, "you have made us wait. You -promised this morning to be earlier here." - -"I promised!" cried Barbaroux, with amazement, heightened by a sort of -impression that he was speaking to a person who ought at the moment to -be at two hundred leagues' distance. - -"Yes! promised," continued the girl; "but no doubt, you have been at the -office, or have forgotten yourself with the curate of La Major, who -makes you study such beautiful plants. Never mind; come with me. Melanie -is with her uncle Jean, and I, as I tell you, have been waiting for you -more than an hour. Come, then!" - -Barbaroux scarcely comprehended what was said to him. He found all his -senses deceiving him at once, as it were, sight, hearing, and smell; and -his imagination transported from the present to the past, had some -difficulty in overcoming the first shock of stupefied surprise. -Thereafter, he felt a kind of wish to yield himself up voluntarily to -what seemed a sweet illusion. He followed the young girl as desired, but -soon found new causes for astonishment. Before him appeared the old -screw-stair of a well-known fisher dwelling, with the narrow -landing-place, chalky walls, and plastered chimney, with its tint of -yellow, to him most familiar of old. He even noted on the plaster an -acanthus leaf, where such a thing had been once rudely charcoaled by his -own hand. In the chimney grate, he beheld an enormous log, the Christmas -log, sparkling above the red embers; and he then called to mind that the -day was the 24th of December, and the evening Christmas Eve. - -"Ah! you see," said the young girl, rousing him by her voice, "we are -going to hold the Christmas feast. Come, Charles, enter, and sit down -opposite to uncle Jean, and by the side of Melanie. I will take my place -on your other hand." - -As the girl spoke, she had opened the door of an inner apartment, and -led forward Barbaroux. The latter did indeed see before him uncle Jean; -he clasped in his own the hands of Melanie. He beheld all that he had -been once wont to see, in short, in the home of uncle Jean, the old -seaman of Marseilles. The same veteran weather-glass hung on the wall; -the compass was there, too, pointing still, as it pointed of yore. On -the table Barbaroux observed the green glasses of Provence; the bottles -were the peculiar bottles of uncle Jean; and, amid others, he saw the -yellow seals marking the prized Cyprus wine of the ancient mariner -of Marseilles. Brown dishes were there of the pottery of Saint -Jacquerie--articles to Paris unknown. Edibles lay upon them too, such as -Marseilles draws from sunny Afric: almonds and dates, with figs and -raisins, alone, or compounded into cakes, after the mode of southern -France. All these things confounded the young member of convention. Had -he made in a few hours a journey of eight days? Had he retrograded in -the way of existence? Had he dreamt of a busy life of three years, since -the time when, under the shade of the church of St. Laurent of -Marseilles, he had courted the fair niece of uncle Jean, amid scenes and -sights such as now surrounded him? The deputy of Marseilles, the popular -conventionist, closed his eyes in doubt. Dreamed he at that moment or -had he dreamed for years? - -Barbaroux was no weak-minded man, and yet it is not too much to say, -that he felt positive difficulty in determining what he saw to be -unreal, or, at most but an illusory revival of a former reality; and -this difficulty he felt, even though he had in his pocket, and touched -with his fingers, a note from Madame Roland, received in the convention -on that very afternoon. On the other hand, the two Provençal girls were -assuredly by his side; and, at the sight of Melanie, upsprung anew that -fresh young love which politics had stifled in his heart in its very -bud. Was not uncle Jean there, moreover, with his robust form and open -features, his kindly smile, and his strong Marseillaise accents? If all -was a delusion, as the reason of Barbaroux ever and anon told him, and -if a purposed delusion, as seemed more than likely, what could that -purpose be? Had uncle Jean and Melanie thus mysteriously encompassed him -with souvenirs of former and happy hours, to rekindle the love from -which politics had detached him, and to lead him yet into that union -once all but arranged? Such might possibly be the case, and the thought -tended to check the questions which rose naturally to the young man's -lip. He could not, would not, bring a blush to the cheek of Melanie, by -asking her explanations so delicate. These would be voluntarily given, -doubtless, in due time. Besides, to speak the truth, he felt so happy to -be again by her side, as to shrink from the idea of breaking the spell, -and was contented to yield himself up to the soft intoxication of the -moment. He spoke of Marseilles, as if he was actually there, and as if -he had no thought save of its passing interests and affairs. On these -matters, uncle Jean and the two girls conversed with him freely, never -leaving it to be supposed for an instant, however, that they were at all -conscious of being elsewhere, or that Barbaroux had ever been absent -from their sides. Only now and then did Barbaroux catch the glance of -Melanie, fixed on him with an unusual expression, made up of mingled -tenderness and thoughtful anxiety. His observation, however, made her -instantly recur to the same manner displayed by her sister and uncle, -who treated him as if they had seen him but a few hours previously. The -deputy, after being enlivened by the little supper and the good wine, -even smiled internally to see the extent to which they carried this -caution, though it mystified him the more. The window of the chamber in -which they sat at their singular Christmas feast, opened suddenly of its -own accord. - -"Shut that window, Melanie," said uncle Jean; "the air of the sea is -unwholesome by night." The window was closed accordingly; but Barbaroux -fancied that he had actually heard through it the roll of the waves, and -felt on his cheek the freshness of the ocean breeze. - -At length the hour of midnight sounded--the hour at which, once only in -the year, the priest ascends the high altar to say mass--the hour of the -Saviour's birth. - -"It is midnight," cried the two girls; "let us proceed to mass." - -As they spoke, the girls rose from table, and, in doing so, overturned, -by accident or intention, the two candles by which the room was lighted. -Barbaroux found himself a second time in the dark; but speedily his arms -were seized by the girls, one on each side, and he was noiselessly led -down into the dark passage by which he had entered. Barbaroux had often -stolen an embrace from Melanie in such circumstances as the present, and -he here found himself repaid by a voluntary one from herself. For a -moment her arm lingered around him, and was then withdrawn in silence. -The door was then opened for him, and, in another second of time, he -stood alone in the street, with the coach in waiting which had brought -him thither. Confusedly and mechanically he entered the vehicle, and was -ere long set down in the Rue St. Honore, at liberty to regain his own -home. - -Deeply as he was impressed by this remarkable incident, Barbaroux did -not think it necessary to disclose the particulars to Vergniaud and his -other political companions; but he made a confidant of Madame Roland. - -"It is plain," said he, concludingly to that lady, "that the whole was a -purposed plan of deception or illusion. It is the story of Aline put in -action for my especial benefit, but surely without end, without -sufficing grounds. Wherefore employ such chicanery with a man like me? -It would have been better to have addressed me frankly, and so have -reminded me of the past, than to have resorted to a scheme which, though -impressive at the time, can only move me now to a smile. Yes, madame, I -would say--that the issue might possibly have been more agreeable to -their wishes, had they dealt with me less mysteriously. But what -inducement can have made uncle Jean go in with such a step, really -puzzles me. He is a man who dies of ennui when out of sight of the sea -for a day. Besides, though he did love me once, I believe that he at -heart hates the convention, with all belonging to it, and favors the -Bourbons." - -"Even if the intention," replied Madame Roland, "was only to recall your -old love to your recollection, Barbaroux, there is something pretty in -the idea. It is as if your Melanie, in putting her home, her friends, -and herself, before you in their perfect reality, had said--'This is all -I can offer--all save my love.' But there is something more under it -than all this, Barbaroux,' pursued the lady, after reflecting gravely -for some time. 'They gave you no verbal explanation, you say; but did -they leave you no clew otherwise? Did you wear your present dress -yesterday?" - -"I did, madame." - -"Have you examined its pockets?" - -"No," said Barbaroux, "but I shall do so immediately." - -The young member of convention accordingly put his hands into his -pockets, and was not slow to discover there, as Madame Roland had -acutely conjectured, a complete solution of his whole enigma. He found a -paper bearing his address, in which an offer was made to him of the hand -of the woman he (once, at least, had) loved, with a dowry of five -hundred thousand francs, and the prospect of enjoying anew all the -pleasures of his happy youth, provided that he supported the Appeal to -the People on behalf of Louis XVI.--provided, in short, that he lent his -influence to save the life, at all events, of the king. That such an -appeal would have saved Louis from the scaffold, all men at the time -believed. The Jacobins obviously thought so, since they obstinately -denied him any such chance of escape. - -It is probable that the monetary clause in this proposal would alone -have prevented its entertainment by the young deputy for Marseilles. Be -this as it may, the romantic scheme which the friendship of uncle Jean, -and the love of Melanie, had led them to enter upon, at the instance, -doubtless of the other friends of Louis, for inducing Barbaroux to -befriend the king, and for wiling himself from the dangerous vortex of -political turmoil, ended in nothing. Within a few weeks--nay, a few days -afterward--began that life-and-death struggle between the Girondists and -Jacobins, which only terminated with the total fall of the former party, -and the condemnation to the scaffold of all its leaders. To the honor of -Barbaroux, be it told that, without a bribe, he supported the Appeal to -the People, and had he had the power would have saved the ill-fated king -from the extreme and bloody penalty of the guillotine. But the infuriate -councils of Robespierre and Marat prevailed; and Barbaroux, with five -companions, fled for safety to the Gironde, that southern portion of -France, of which Bordeaux is the capital, and whence they had derived -their party name. They found there, however, no safety; they were hunted -down like wild beasts by the dominant faction, and every man of them was -taken and beheaded, or otherwise perished miserably, with the exception -of Louvet, who subsequently recorded their perils and their sufferings. -Barbaroux, the young, gay, handsome and brave Barbaroux, died on the -scaffold, while Petion met the death of a wild beast in the -fields--starved while in life, and mangled by wolves when no -more. Well had it been for Barbaroux, had he yielded timeously to the -loving call of Melanie, made so romantically and mysteriously. It was -not so destined to be.[2] - -[Footnote 2: This little story is drawn from the French. The -Revolutionary era was so fertile in romantic incidents, springing at -once from the theatrical character of the people, and the extraordinary -excitement of the period, that the adventure of Barbaroux is quite -within the range of probability. One vote did at last condemn Louis -XVI.] - - - - -"JUDGE NOT!" - - -Many years since, two pupils of the University at Warsaw were passing -through the street in which stands the column of King Sigismund, round -whose pedestal may generally be seen seated a number of women selling -fruit, cakes, and a variety of eatables, to the passers-by. The young -men paused to look at a figure whose oddity attracted their attention. -This was a man apparently between fifty and sixty years of age; his -coat, once black, was worn threadbare; his broad hat overshadowed a thin -wrinkled face; his form was greatly emaciated, yet he walked with a firm -and rapid step. He stopped at one of the stalls beneath the column, -purchased a halfpenny worth of bread, ate part of it, put the remainder -into his pocket, and pursued his way toward the palace of General -Zaionczek, lieutenant of the kingdom, who, in the absence of the czar, -Alexander, exercised royal authority in Poland. - -"Do you know that man?" asked one student of the other. - -"I do not; but judging by his lugubrious costume, and no less mournful -countenance, I should guess him to be an undertaker." - -"Wrong, my friend; he is Stanislas Staszic." - -"Staszic!" exclaimed the student, looking after the man, who was then -entering the palace. "How can a mean, wretched-looking man, who stops in -the middle of the street to buy a morsel of bread, be rich and -powerful?" - -"Yet, so it is," replied his companion. "Under this unpromising exterior -is hidden one of our most influential ministers, and one of the most -illustrious _savans_ of Europe." - -The man whose appearance contrasted so strongly with his social -position, who was as powerful as he seemed insignificant, as rich as he -appeared poor, owed all his fortune to himself--to his labors, and to -his genius. - -Of low extraction--he left Poland, while young, in order to acquire -learning. He passed some years in the Universities of Leipsic and -Göttingen, continued his studies in the College of France, under Brisson -and D'Aubanton; gained the friendship of Buffon; visited the Alps and -the Apennines; and, finally, returned to his native land, stored with -rich and varied learning. - -He was speedily invited by a nobleman to take charge of the education of -his son. Afterward, the government wished to profit by his talents; and -Staszic, from grade to grade, was raised to the highest posts and the -greatest dignities. His economical habits made him rich. Five hundred -serfs cultivated his lands, and he possessed large sums of money placed -at interest. When did any man ever rise very far above the rank in which -he was born, without presenting a mark for envy and detraction to aim -their arrows against? Mediocrity always avenges itself by calumny; and -so Staszic found it, for the good folks of Warsaw were quite ready to -attribute all his actions to sinister motives. - -A group of idlers had paused close to where the students were standing. -All looked at the minister, and every one had something to say against -him. - -"Who would ever think," cried a noble, whose gray mustaches and -old-fashioned costume recalled the era of King Sigismund, "that -_he_ could be a minister of state? Formerly, when a Palatin -traversed the capital, a troop of horsemen both preceded and followed -him. Soldiers dispersed the crowds that pressed to look at him. But what -respect can be felt for an old miser, who has not the heart to afford -himself a coach, and who eats a piece of bread in the streets, just as a -beggar would do?" - -"His heart," said a priest, "is as hard as the iron chest in which he -keeps his gold; a poor man might die of hunger at his door, before he -would give him alms." - -"He has worn the same coat for the last ten years," remarked another. - -"He sits on the ground for fear of wearing out his chairs," chimed in a -saucy-looking lad, and every one joined in a mocking laugh. - -A young pupil of one of the public schools had listened in indignant -silence to these speeches, which cut him to the heart; and at length, -unable to restrain himself, he turned toward the priest and said: - -"A man distinguished for his generosity ought to be spoken of with more -respect. What does it signify to us how he dresses, or what he eats, if -he makes a noble use of his fortune?" - -"And pray what use _does_ he make of it?" - -"The Academy of Sciences wanted a place for a library, and had not funds -to hire one. Who bestowed on them a magnificent palace? Was it not -Staszic!" - -"Oh! yes, because he is as greedy of praise as of gold." - -"Poland esteems, as her chief glory, the man who discovered the laws of -the sidereal movement. Who was it that raised to him a monument worthy -of his renown--calling the chisel of Canova to honor the memory of -Copernicus?" - -"It was Staszic," replied the priest, "and so all Europe honors for it -the generous senator. But, my young friend, it is not the light of the -noon-day sun that ought to illume Christian charity. If you want really -to know a man, watch the daily course of his private life. This -ostentatious miser, in the books which he publishes groans over the lot -of the peasantry, and in his vast domains he employs five hundred -miserable serfs. Go some morning to his house--there you will find a -poor woman beseeching with tears a cold proud man who repulses her. That -man is Staszic--that woman his sister. Ought not the haughty giver of -palaces, the builder of pompous statues, rather to employ himself in -protecting his oppressed serfs, and relieving his destitute relative?" - -The young man began to reply, but no one would listen to him. Sad and -dejected at hearing one who had been to him a true and generous friend, -so spoken of, he went to his humble lodging. - -Next morning he repaired at an early hour to the dwelling of his -benefactor. There he met a woman weeping, and lamenting the inhumanity -of her brother. - -This confirmation of what the priest had said, inspired the young man -with a fixed determination. It was Staszic who had placed him at -college, and supplied him with the means of continuing there. Now, he -would reject his gifts--he would not accept benefits from a man who -could look unmoved at his own sister's tears. - -The learned minister, seeing his favorite pupil enter, did not desist -from his occupation, but, continuing to write, said to him: - -"Well, Adolphe, what can I do for you to-day? If you want books, take -them out of my library; or instruments--order them, and send me the -bill. Speak to me freely, and tell me if you want any thing." - -"On the contrary, sir, I come to thank you for your past kindness, and -to say that I must in future decline receiving your gifts." - -"You are, then, become rich?" - -"I am as poor as ever." - -"And your college?" - -"I must leave it." - -"Impossible!" cried Staszic, standing up, and fixing his penetrating -eyes on his visitor. "You are the most promising of all our pupils--it -must not be!" - -In vain the young student tried to conceal the motive of his conduct; -Staszic insisted on knowing it. - -"You wish," said Adolphe, "to heap favors on me, at the expense of your -suffering family." - -The powerful minister could not conceal his emotion. His eyes filled -with tears, and he pressed the young man's hand warmly, as he said: - -"Dear boy, always take heed to this counsel--'JUDGE NOTHING BEFORE -THE TIME.' Ere the end of life arrives, the purest virtue may be -soiled by vice, and the bitterest calumny proved to be unfounded. My -conduct is, in truth, an enigma, which I can not now solve--it is the -secret of my life." - -Seeing the young man still hesitate, he added: - -"Keep an account of the money I give you, consider it as a loan; and -when some day, through labor and study, you find yourself rich, pay the -debt by educating a poor, deserving student. As to me, wait for my -death, before you judge my life." - -During fifty years Stanislas Staszic allowed malice to blacken his -actions. He knew the time would come when all Poland would do him -justice. - -On the 20th of January, 1826, thirty thousand mourning Poles flocked -around his bier, and sought to touch the pall, as though it were some -holy, precious relic. - -The Russian army could not comprehend the reason of the homage thus paid -by the people of Warsaw to this illustrious man. His last testament -fully explained the reason of his apparent avarice. His vast estates -were divided into five hundred portions, each to become the property of -a free peasant--his former serf. A school, on an admirable plan and very -extended scale, was to be established for the instruction of the -peasants' children in different trades. A reserved fund was provided for -the succor of the sick and aged. A small yearly tax, to be paid by the -liberated serfs, was destined for purchasing, by degrees, the freedom of -their neighbors, condemned, as they had been, to hard and thankless -toil. - -After having thus provided for his peasants, Staszic bequeathed six -hundred thousand florins for founding a model hospital; and he left a -considerable sum toward educating poor and studious youths. As for his -sister, she inherited only the same allowance which he had given her, -yearly, during his life; for she was a person of careless, extravagant -habits, who dissipated foolishly all the money she received. - -A strange fate was that of Stanislas Staszic. A martyr to calumny during -his life, after death his memory was blessed and revered by the -multitudes whom he had made happy. - - - - -A MATHEMATICAL HERMIT. - - -During the earlier half of the last century, there lived in one of the -villages on the outskirts of the moor on which a singular pile of rocks -on the Cornish moors called the Cheese-Wring stands, a stone-cutter -named Daniel Gumb. This man was noted among his companions for his -taciturn, eccentric character, and for his attachment to mathematical -studies. Such leisure time as he had at his command he regularly devoted -to pondering over some of the problems of Euclid; he was always drawing -mysterious complications of angles, triangles, and parallelograms, on -pieces of slate, and on the blank leaves of such few books as he -possessed. But he made very slow progress in his studies. Poverty and -hard work increased with the increase of his family. At last he was -obliged to give up his mathematics altogether. He labored early and -labored late; he hacked and hewed at the hard material out of which he -was doomed to cut a livelihood with unremitting diligence; but want -still kept up with him, toil as he might to outstrip it, in the career -of life. In short, times went on so ill with Daniel, that in despair of -ever finding them better he took a sudden resolution of altering his -manner of living, and retreating from the difficulties that he could -not overcome. He went to the hill on which the Cheese-Wring stands, and -looked about among the rocks until he found some that had accidentally -formed themselves into a sort of rude cavern. He widened this recess; he -propped up a great wide slab, that made its roof, at one end where it -seemed likely to sink without some additional support; he cut out in a -rock that rose above this, what he called his bed-room--a mere -longitudinal slit in the stone, the length and breadth of his body, into -which he could roll himself sideways when he wanted to enter it. After -he had completed this last piece of work, he scratched the date of the -year of his extraordinary labors (1735) on the rock; and then, he went -and fetched his wife and family away from their cottage, and lodged them -in the cavity he had made--never to return during his life-time, to the -dwellings of men! - -Here he lived and here he worked, when he could get work. He paid no -rent now: he wanted no furniture; he struggled no longer to appear to -the world as his equals appeared; he required no more money than would -procure for his family and himself the barest necessaries of life; he -suffered no interruptions from his fellow-workmen, who thought him a -madman, and kept out of his way; and--most precious privilege of his new -position--he could at last shorten his hours of labor, and lengthen his -hours of study, with impunity. Having no temptations to spend money, no -hard demands of an inexorable landlord to answer, whether he was able or -not, he could now work with his brains as well as his hands, he could -toil at his problems upon the tops of rocks, under the open sky, amid -the silence of the great moor; he could scratch his lines and angles on -thousands of stone tablets freely offered around him. The great ambition -of his life was greatly achieved. - -Henceforth, nothing moved him, nothing depressed him. The storms of -winter rushed over his unsheltered dwelling, but failed to dislodge him. -He taught his family to brave solitude and cold in the cavern among the -rocks, as he braved them. In the cell that he had scooped out for his -wife (the roof of which has now fallen in) some of his children died, -and others were born. They point out the rock where he used to sit on -calm summer evenings, absorbed over his tattered copy of Euclid. A -geometrical "puzzle," traced by his hand, still appears on the stone. -When he died, what became of his family, no one can tell. Nothing more -is known of him than that he never quitted the wild place of his exile; -that he continued to the day of his death to live contentedly with his -wife and children, amid a civilized nation, and during a civilized age, -under such a shelter as would hardly serve the first savage tribes of -the most savage country--to live, starving out poverty and want on a -barren wild; defying both to follow him among the desert rocks--to live, -forsaking all things, enduring all things for the love of Knowledge, -which he could still nobly follow through trials and extremities, -without encouragement of fame or profit, without vantage ground of -station or wealth, for its own dear sake. Beyond this, nothing but -conjecture is left. The cell, the bed-place, the lines traced on the -rocks, the inscription of the year in which he hewed his habitation out -of them, are all the memorials that remain of a man, whose strange and -striking story might worthily adorn the pages of a tragic yet glorious -history which is still unwritten--the history of the martyrs of -knowledge in humble life! - - - - -A PRISON ANECDOTE. - - -In the year 1834, a widow lady of good fortune (whom we shall call Mrs. -Newton), resided with her daughter in one of the suburbs nearest to the -metropolis. They lived in fashionable style, and kept an ample -establishment of servants. - -A very pretty young girl, nineteen years of age, resided in this family -in the capacity of lady's-maid. She was tolerably educated, spoke with -grammatical correctness, and was distinguished by a remarkably gentle -and fascinating address. - -At that time Miss Newton was engaged to be married to one Captain -Jennings, R.N.; and Miss Newton (as many young ladies in the like -circumstances have done before), employed her leisure in embroidering -cambric, making it up into handkerchiefs, and sending them and other -little presents of that description, to Captain Jennings. Unhappily, but -very naturally, she made Charlotte Mortlock, her maid, the bearer of -these tender communications. The captain occupied lodgings suited to a -gentleman of station, and thither Charlotte Mortlock frequently repaired -at the bidding of her young mistress, and generally waited (as lovers -are generally impatient) to take back the captain's answers. - -A strange sort of regard, or attachment (it is confidently believed to -have been guiltless) sprung up between the captain and the maid; and the -captain, who would seem to have deserved Miss Newton's confidence as -little as her maid did, gave as presents to Charlotte, some of the -embroidered offerings of Miss Newton. - -It happened that a sudden appointment to the command of a ship of war, -took Captain Jennings on a transatlantic voyage. He had not been very -long gone, when the following discovery threw the family of the Newtons -into a state of intense agitation. - -In search of some missing article in the absence of her maid, Miss -Newton betook herself to that young woman's room, and, quite -unsuspiciously, opened a trunk which was left unlocked. There she found, -to her horror, a number of the handkerchiefs she had embroidered for her -lover. The possibility of the real truth never flashed across her mind; -the dishonesty of Charlotte seemed to be the only solution of the -incident. "Doubtless," she reasoned, "the parcels had been opened on -their way to Captain Jennings, and their contents stolen." - -On the return of Charlotte Mortlock, she was charged with the robbery. -What availed the assertion that she had received the handkerchiefs from -the captain himself? It was no defense, and certainly was not calculated -to soften the anger of her mistress. A policeman was summoned, the -unhappy girl was charged with felony, underwent examination, was -committed for trial, and, destitute of witnesses, or of any probable -defense, was ultimately _convicted_. The judge (now deceased) who tried -the case, was unsparingly denounced by many philanthropic ladies, for -the admiration he had expressed for the weeping girl, and especially for -his announcement to the jury, in passing sentence of one year's -imprisonment with hard labor, "that he would not transport her, since -the country could not afford to loose such beauty." It was doubtless, -not a very judicial remark; but an innocent girl was, at all events, -saved from a sentence that might have killed her. - -Consigned to the County House of Correction, Charlotte Mortlock observed -the best possible conduct--was modest, humble, submissive, and -industrious--and soon gained the good-will of all her supervisors. To -the governor she always asserted her innocence, and told, with great -simplicity, the tale of her fatal possession of those dangerous gifts. - -She had been in prison a few months, when the governor received a visit -from a certain old baronet, who with ill-disguised reluctance, and in -the blunt phraseology which was peculiar to him, proceeded to say, that -"A girl named Charlotte Mortlock had quite bewitched his friend Captain -Jennings, who was beyond the Atlantic; and that a letter he produced -would show the singular frame of mind in which the captain was, about -that girl." - -Assuredly, the letter teemed with expressions of anguish, remorse, and -horror at the suffering and apparent ruin of "a dear innocent girl," the -victim of his senseless and heartless imprudence. However, the baronet -seemed to be any thing but touched by his friend's rhapsodies. He talked -much of "human nature," and of "the weakness of a man when a pretty girl -was in the case;" but, in order to satisfy his friend's mind, asked to -see her, that he might write some account of her appearance and -condition. Accordingly, he _did_ see her, in the governor's -presence. After a few inappropriate questions, he cut the interview -short, and went away, manifestly disposed to account his gallant friend -a fool for his excitement. - -The incident was not lost upon the governor, who listened with increased -faith to the poor girl's protestations. In a few months more he received -a stronger confirmation of them. Apparently unsatisfied with the -baronet's services, Captain Jennings wrote to another friend of his, a -public functionary, formerly a captain in the renowned Light Division; -and that officer placed in the governor's hands a letter from the -captain, expressing unbounded grief for the dreadful fate of an innocent -young woman. "He could not rest night or day; she haunted his -imagination, and yet he was distant, and powerless to serve her." His -second messenger was touched with pity, and consulted the governor as to -the proper steps to pursue. However, under the unhappy circumstances of -the case, Captain Jennings being so far away, no formal document being -at hand, and the period of the poor girl's release being then almost -come, it was deemed unadvisable to take any step. Charlotte Mortlock -fulfilled the judgment of the law. - -She had been carefully observed, her occupation had been of a womanly -character; she had never incurred a reproof, much less a punishment, in -the prison; and her health had been well sustained. She, consequently, -quitted her sad abode in a condition suitable for active exertion. Such -assistance as could be extended to her, on her departure, was afforded, -and so she was launched into the wide world of London. - -She soon found herself penniless. Happily, she did not linger in want, -pawn her clothes (which were good), and gradually descend to the extreme -privation which has assailed so many similarly circumstanced. She -resolved to _act_, and again went to the prison gates. Well attired, but -deeply vailed, so as to defy recognition, she inquired for the governor. -The gate porter announced that "a lady" desired to speak to him. The -stranger was shown in, the vail was uplifted, and, to the governor's -astonishment, there stood Charlotte Mortlock! Her hair was neatly and -becomingly arranged about her face; her dress was quiet and pretty; and -altogether she looked so young, so lovely, and, at the same time, so -modest and innocent, that the governor, perforce, almost excused the -inconstancy (albeit attended with such fatal consequences) of Captain -Jennings. - -With many tears she acknowledged her grateful obligations for the -considerate and humane treatment she had received in prison. She -disclosed her poverty, and her utter friendlessness; expressed her -horror of the temptations to which she was exposed; and implored the -governor's counsel and assistance. Without a moment's hesitation, she -was advised to go at once to a lady of station, whose extensive -charities and zealous services, rendered to the outcasts of society at -that time, were most remarkable. She cheerfully acquiesced. She found -the good lady at home, related her history, met with sympathy and active -aid, and, after remaining for a time, by her benevolent recommendation, -in a charitable establishment, was recommended to a wealthy family, to -whom every particular of her history was confided. In this service she -acquitted herself with perfect trustfulness and fidelity, and won the -warmest regard. The incident which had led to her unmerited -imprisonment, broke off the engagement between Captain Jennings and Miss -Newton; but whether the former had ever an opportunity of indemnifying -the poor girl for the suffering she had undergone, the narrator has -never been able to learn. This is, in every particular, a true case of -prison experience. - - - - -THE PILCHARD FISHERY ON THE COAST OF CORNWALL.[3] - - -[Footnote 3: From "Rambles beyond Railways," an interesting -work by W. WILKIE COLLINS, just published in London.] - -If it so happened that a stranger in Cornwall went out to take his first -walk along the cliffs toward the south of the country, in the month of -August, that stranger could not advance far in any direction without -witnessing what would strike him as a very singular and alarming -phenomenon. He would see a man standing on the extreme edge of a -precipice, just over the sea, gesticulating in a very remarkable manner, -with a bush in his hand, waving it to the right and the left, -brandishing it over his head, sweeping it past his feet; in short, -apparently acting the part of a maniac of the most dangerous -description. It would add considerably to the startling effect of this -sight on the stranger aforesaid, if he were told, while beholding it, -that the insane individual before him was paid for flourishing the bush -at the rate of a guinea a week. And if he, thereupon, advanced a little -to obtain a nearer view of the madman, and then observed on the sea -below (as he certainly might) a well-manned boat, turning carefully to -right and left exactly as the bush turned right and left, his -mystification would probably be complete, and his ideas on the sanity of -the inhabitants of the neighborhood would at least be perplexed with -grievous doubt. - -But a few words of explanation would soon make him alter his opinion. He -would then learn that the man with the bush was an important agent in -the Pilchard Fishery of Cornwall; that he had just discovered a shoal of -pilchards swimming toward the land; and that the men in the boat were -guided by his gesticulations alone, in securing the fish on which they -and all their countrymen on the coast depend for a livelihood. - -To begin, however, with the pilchards themselves, as forming one of the -staple commercial commodities of Cornwall. They may be, perhaps, best -described as bearing a very close resemblance to the herring, but as -being rather smaller in size and having larger scales. Where they come -from before they visit the Cornish coast--where those that escape the -fishermen go to when they quit it, is unknown; or, at best, only vaguely -conjectured. All that is certain about them is, that they are met with, -swimming past the Scilly Isles, as early as July (when they are caught -with a drift-net). They then advance inland in August, during which -month the principal, or "in-shore," fishing begins, visit different -parts of the coast until October or November, and after that disappear -until the next year. They may be sometimes caught off the southwest part -of Devonshire, and are occasionally to be met with near the southernmost -coast of Ireland; but beyond these two points they are never seen on any -other portion of the shores of Great Britain, either before they -approach Cornwall, or after they have left it. - -The first sight from the cliffs of a shoal of pilchards advancing toward -the land, is not a little interesting. They produce on the sea the -appearance of the shadow of a dark cloud. This shadow comes on, and on, -until you can see the fish leaping and playing on the surface by -hundreds at a time, all huddled close together, and all approaching so -near to the shore that they can be always caught in some fifty or sixty -feet of water. Indeed, on certain occasions, when the shoals are of -considerable magnitude, the fish behind have been known to force the -fish before, literally up to the beach, so that they could be taken in -buckets, or even in the hand with the greatest ease. It is said that -they are thus impelled to approach the land by precisely the same -necessity which impels the fishermen to catch them as they appear--the -necessity of getting food. - -With the discovery of the first shoal, the active duties of the -"look-out" on the cliffs begin. Each fishing-village places one or more -of these men on the watch all round the coast. They are called "huers," -a word said to be derived from the old French verb _huer_, to call -out, to give an alarm. On the vigilance and skill of the "huer" much -depends. He is, therefore, not only paid his guinea a week while he is -on the watch, but receives, besides, a perquisite in the shape of a -percentage on the produce of all the fish taken under his auspices. He -is placed at his post, where he can command an uninterrupted view of the -sea, some days before the pilchards are expected to appear; and, at the -same time, boats, nets, and men are all ready for action at a moment's -notice. - -The principal boat used is at least fifteen tons in burden, and carries -a large net called the "seine," which measures a hundred and ninety -fathoms in length, and costs a hundred and seventy pounds--sometimes -more. It is simply one long strip, from eleven to thirteen fathoms in -breadth, composed of very small meshes, and furnished, all along its -length, with lead at one side and corks at the other. The men who cast -this net are called the "shooters," and receive eleven shillings and -sixpence a week, and a perquisite of one basket of fish each out of -every haul. - -As soon as the "huer" discerns the first appearance of a shoal, he waves -his bush. The signal is conveyed to the beach immediately by men and -boys watching near him. The "seine" boat (accompanied by another small -boat, to assist in casting the net) is rowed out where he can see it. -Then there is a pause, a hush of great expectation on all sides. -Meanwhile, the devoted pilchards press on--a compact mass of thousands -on thousands of fish, swimming to meet their doom. All eyes are fixed on -the "huer;" he stands watchful and still, until the shoal is thoroughly -embayed, in water which he knows to be within the depth of the "seine" -net. Then, as the fish begin to pause in their progress, and gradually -crowd closer and closer together, he gives the signal; the boats come -up, and the "seine" net is cast, or, in the technical phrase, "shot" -overboard. - -The grand object is now to inclose the entire shoal. The leads sink one -end of the net perpendicularly to the ground--the corks buoy up the -other to the surface of the water. When it has been taken all round the -fish, the two extremities are made fast, and the shoal is then -imprisoned within an oblong barrier of network surrounding it on all -sides. The great art is to let as few of the pilchards escape as -possible, while this process is being completed. Whenever the "huer" -observes from above that they are startled, and are separating at any -particular point, to that point he waves his bush, thither the boat is -steered, and there the net is "shot" at once. In whatever direction the -fish attempt to get out to sea again, they are thus immediately met and -thwarted with extraordinary readiness and skill. This labor completed, -the silence of intense expectation that has hitherto prevailed among the -spectators on the cliff, is broken. There is a great shout of joy on all -sides--the shoal is secured! - -The "seine" is now regarded as a great reservoir of fish. It may remain -in the water a week or more. To secure it against being moved from its -position in case a gale should come on, it is warped by two or three -ropes to points of land in the cliff, and is, at the same time, -contracted in circuit, by its opposite ends being brought together, and -fastened tight over a length of several feet. While these operations are -in course of performance, another boat, another set of men, and another -net (different in form from the "seine") are approaching the scene of -action. - -This new net is called the "tuck;" it is smaller than the "seine," -inside which it is now to be let down for the purpose of bringing the -fish closely collected to the surface. The men who manage this net are -termed "regular seiners." They receive ten shillings a week, and the -same perquisite as the "shooters." Their boat is first of all rowed -inside the seine-net, and laid close to the seine-boat, which remains -stationary outside, and to the bows of which one rope at one end of the -"tuck-net" is fastened. The "tuck" boat then slowly makes the inner -circuit of the "seine," the smaller net being dropped overboard as she -goes, and attached at intervals to the larger. To prevent the fish from -getting between the two nets during this operation, they are frightened -into the middle of the inclosure by beating the water, at proper places, -with oars, and heavy stones fastened to ropes. When the "tuck" net has -at length traveled round the whole circle of the "seine," and is -securely fastened to the "seine" boat, at the end as it was at the -beginning, every thing is ready for the great event of the day--the -hauling of the fish to the surface. - -Now, the scene on shore and sea rises to a prodigious pitch of -excitement. The merchants, to whom the boats and nets belong, and by -whom the men are employed, join the "huer" on the cliff; all their -friends follow them; boys shout, dogs bark madly; every little boat in -the place puts off crammed with idle spectators; old men and women -hobble down to the beach to wait for the news. The noise, the bustle, -the agitation, increases every moment. Soon the shrill cheering of the -boys is joined by the deep voices of the "seiners." There they stand, -six or eight stalwart, sunburnt fellows, ranged in a row in the "seine" -boat, hauling with all their might at the "tuck" net, and roaring the -regular nautical "Yo-heave-ho!" in chorus! Higher and higher rises the -net, louder and louder shout the boys and the idlers. The merchant -forgets his dignity, and joins them; the "huer," so calm and collected -hitherto, loses his self-possession and waves his cap triumphantly--even -you and I, reader, uninitiated spectators though we are, catch the -infection, and cheer away with the rest, as if our bread depended on the -event of the next few minutes. "Hooray! hooray! Yo-hoy, hoy, hoy! Pull -away, boys! Up she comes! Here they are! Here they are!" The water boils -and eddies; the "tuck" net rises to the surface, and one teeming, -convulsed mass of shining, glancing, silvery scales; one compact crowd -of thousands of fish, each one of which is madly endeavoring to escape, -appears in an instant! - -The noise before, was as nothing compared with the noise now. Boats as -large as barges are pulled up in hot haste all round the net; baskets -are produced by dozens: the fish are dipped up in them, and shot out, -like coals out of a sack, into the boats. Ere long, the men are up to -their ankles in pilchards; they jump upon the rowing benches and work -on, until the boats are filled with fish as full as they can hold, and -the gunwales are within two or three inches of the water. Even yet, the -shoal is not exhausted; the "tuck" net must be let down again and left -ready for a fresh haul, while the boats are slowly propelled to the -shore, where we must join them without delay. - -As soon as the fish are brought to land, one set of men, bearing -capacious wooden shovels, jump in among them; and another set bring -large handbarrows close to the side of the boat, into which the -pilchards are thrown with amazing rapidity. This operation proceeds -without ceasing for a moment. As soon as one barrow is ready to be -carried to the salting-house, another is waiting to be filled. When this -labor is performed by night--which is often the case--the scene becomes -doubly picturesque. The men with the shovels, standing up to their knees -in pilchards, working energetically; the crowd stretching down from the -salting-house, across the beach, and hemming in the boat all around; the -uninterrupted succession of men hurrying backward and forward with their -barrows, through a narrow way, kept clear for them in the throng: the -glare of the lanterns giving light to the workmen, and throwing red -flashes on the fish as they fly incessantly from the shovels over the -side of the boat, all combine together to produce such a series of -striking contrasts, such a moving picture of bustle and animation, as no -attentive spectator can ever forget. - -Having watched the progress of affairs on the shore, we next proceed to -the salting-house, a quadrangular structure of granite, well roofed-in -all round the sides, but open to the sky in the middle. Here, we must -prepare ourselves to be bewildered by incessant confusion and noise; for -here are assembled all the women and girls in the district, piling up -the pilchards on layers of salt, at three-pence an hour; to which -remuneration, a glass of brandy and a piece of bread and cheese are -hospitably added at every sixth hour, by way of refreshment. It is a -service of some little hazard to enter this place at all. There are men -rushing out with empty barrows, and men rushing in with full barrows, in -almost perpetual succession. However, while we are waiting for an -opportunity to slip through the doorway, we may amuse ourselves by -watching a very curious ceremony which is constantly in course of -performance outside it. - -As the filled harrows are going into the salting-house, we observe a -little urchin running by the side of them, and hitting their edges with -a long cane, in a constant succession of smart strokes, until they are -fairly carried through the gate, when he quickly returns to perform the -same office for the next series that arrive. The object of this -apparently unaccountable proceeding is soon practically illustrated by a -group of children, hovering about the entrance of the salting-house, who -every now and then dash resolutely up to the barrows, and endeavor to -seize on as many fish as they can take away at one snatch. It is -understood to be their privilege to keep as many pilchards as they can -get in this way by their dexterity, in spite of a liberal allowance of -strokes aimed at their hands; and their adroitness richly deserves its -reward. Vainly does the boy officially intrusted with the administration -of the cane, strike the sides of the barrow with malignant smartness and -perseverance--fish are snatched away with lightning rapidity and -pickpocket neatness of hand. The hardest rap over the knuckles fails to -daunt the sturdy little assailants. Howling with pain, they dash up to -the next barrow that passes them, with unimpaired resolution; and often -collect their ten or a dozen fish apiece, in an hour or two. No -description can do justice to the "Jack-in-office" importance of the boy -with the cane, as he flourishes it about ferociously in the full -enjoyment of his vested right to castigate his companions as often as he -can. As an instance of the early development of the tyrannic tendencies -of human nature, it is, in a philosophical point of view, quite -_unique_. - -But now, while we have a chance, while the doorway is accidentally clear -for a few moments, let us enter the salting-house, and approach the -noisiest and most amusing of all the scenes which the pilchard fishery -presents. First of all, we pass a great heap of fish lying in one recess -inside the door, and an equally great heap of coarse, brownish salt -lying in another. Then, we advance further, get out of the way of every -body, behind a pillar; and see a whole congregation of the fair sex -screaming, talking, and--to their honor be it spoken--working at the -same time, round a compact mass of pilchards which their nimble hands -have already built up to a height of three feet, a breadth of more than -four, and a length of twenty. Here we have every variety of the "female -type" displayed before us, ranged round an odoriferous heap of salted -fish. Here, we see crones of sixty and girls of sixteen; the ugly and -the lean, the comely and the plump; the sour-tempered and the sweet--all -squabbling, singing, jesting, lamenting, and shrieking at the very top -of their very shrill voices for "more fish," and "more salt;" both of -which are brought from the stores, in small buckets, by a long train of -children running backward and forward with unceasing activity and in -inextricable confusion. But, universal as the uproar is, the work never -flags; the hands move as fast as the tongues; there may be no silence -and no discipline, but there is also no idleness and no delay. Never was -three-pence an hour more joyously or more fairly earned than it is here! - -The labor is thus performed. After the stone floor has been swept clean, -a thin layer of salt is spread on it, and covered with pilchards laid -partly edgewise, and close together. Then another layer of salt, -smoothed fine with the palm of the hand, is laid over the pilchards; and -then more pilchards are placed upon that; and so on until the heap rises -to four feet, or more. Nothing can exceed the ease, quickness, and -regularity with which this is done. Each woman works on her own small -area, without reference to her neighbor; a bucketful of salt and a -bucketful of fish being shot out in two little piles under her hands, -for her own especial use. All proceed in their labor, however, with such -equal diligence and equal skill, that no irregularities appear in the -various layers when they are finished--they run as straight and smooth -from one end to the other, as if they were constructed by machinery. The -heap, when completed, looks like a long, solid, neatly-made mass of -dirty salt; nothing being now seen of the pilchards but the extreme tips -of their noses or tails, just peeping out in rows, up the sides of the -pile. - -The fish will remain thus in salt, or, as the technical expression is, -"in bulk," for five or six weeks. During this period, a quantity of oil, -salt, and water drips from them into wells cut in the centre of the -stone floor on which they are placed. After the oil has been collected -and clarified, it will sell for enough to pay off the whole expense of -the wages, food, and drink given to the "seiners"--perhaps, for some -other incidental charges besides. The salt and water left behind, and -offal of all sorts found with it, furnish a valuable manure. Nothing in -the pilchard itself, or in connection with the pilchard, runs to -waste--the precious little fish is a treasure in every part of him. - -After the pilchards have been taken out of "bulk," they are washed clean -in salt water, and packed in hogsheads, which are then sent for -exportation to some large sea-port--Penzance, for instance--in coast -traders. The fish reserved for use in Cornwall, are generally cured by -those who purchase them. The export trade is confined to the shores of -the Mediterranean--Italy and Spain providing the two great foreign -markets for pilchards. The home consumption, as regards Great Britain, -is nothing, or next to nothing. Some variation takes place in the prices -realized by the foreign trade--their average, wholesale, is stated to -about fifty shillings per hogshead. - -Some idea of the almost incalculable multitude of pilchards caught on -the shores of Cornwall, may be formed from the following _data_. At -the small fishing cove of Trereen, 600 hogsheads were taken in little -more than one week, during August 1850. Allowing 2400 fish only to each -hogshead--3000 would be the highest calculation--we have a result of -1,440,000 pilchards, caught by the inhabitants of one little village -alone, on the Cornish coast, at the commencement of the season's -fishing! - -At considerable sea-port towns, where there is an unusually large supply -of men, boats, and nets, such figures as those quoted above, are far -below the mark. At St. Ives, for example, 1000 hogsheads were taken in -the first three seine nets cast into the water. The number of hogsheads -exported annually, averages 22,000. This year, 27,000 have been secured -for the foreign markets. Incredible as these numbers may appear to some -readers, they may nevertheless be relied on; for they are derived from -trustworthy sources--partly from local returns furnished to me--partly -from the very men who filled the baskets from the boat-side, and who -afterward verified their calculations by frequent visits to the -salting-houses. - -Such is the pilchard fishery of Cornwall--a small unit, indeed, in the -vast aggregate of England's internal sources of wealth: but yet, neither -unimportant nor uninteresting, if it be regarded as giving active -employment to a hardy and honest race who would starve without it, as -impartially extending the advantages of commerce to one of the remotest -corners of our island, and--more than all--as displaying a wise and -beautiful provision of Nature, by which the rich tribute of the great -deep is most generously lavished on the land which most needs a -compensation for its own sterility. - - - - -[From Dickens's Household Words.] - -LUCY CAWTHORNE.--A TALE BY A BACHELOR CLERK. - - -The office of clerk of the Carvers' Company has been filled by members -of my family for one hundred years past. My great-grandfather was -elected in the year 1749. After him, came his younger brother; and, when -he died, my grandfather was chosen by nine votes out of twelve; after -that, all opposition vanished: our dynasty was established. When my -grandfather died, my father went through the ceremony of calling upon -the members of the Court of Assistants, and soliciting their votes; and, -afterward, the formality of a show of hands being passed, he was -declared, as every one knew he would be who was aware of the existence -of the Carvers' Company, the successor of his father. The transition -from him to myself was so easy as to be hardly felt. When I threw aside -my yellow breeches, and came out of the "Blue-Coat School," with some -knowledge of Greek, and very small skill in penmanship, I was at once -transplanted to a stool at my father's desk; which stood railed off, in -a corner of the great hall, under the stained-glass window. The master -and twelve senior liverymen, who formed what is called the Court of -Assistants, saw me there when they met together; and one patted me on -the head, and prophesied great things of me, while I sat, very red in -the face, wondering who had been talking to him about me. Another, who -had himself worn the girdle and blue-petticoats, some half a century -previously, examined my classical knowledge; and, finding himself -somewhat at fault, remarked that he was not fresh from school, like me. -At length, my father and I attended their meetings alternately; and, as -he became old and infirm, the duties devolved entirely upon me. When he -died, therefore, there was no change. The twelve liverymen held up -twelve of their four-and-twenty hands, and my election was recorded on -the minutes. - -Carvers' Hall was a place not very easy to find out, for any but the -warder and twelve liverymen: but, as few people else ever had occasion -to find it out, that was not of much consequence. The portion of the -city in which it stood had escaped the fire of London, which took a turn -at a short distance, owing, perhaps, to a change in the wind, and left -the hall and some adjacent courts untouched. In order to arrive there, -it was necessary, first, to pass through a narrow passage running up -from Thames-street; then, along a paved yard, by the railing of a -church; and, lastly, down an impassable court, at the bottom of which -stood the antique gateway of Carvers' Hall. Over the door-way was a -curious carving of the Resurrection, in oak, which must have cost some -ancient member of the Worshipful Guild considerable time and trouble. -There were represented graves opening, and bald-headed old men forcing -up the lids of their family-vaults--some looking happy, and some with -their features distorted by despair. Out of others, whole families, -mother, father, and several children, had just issued, and were standing -hand-in-hand. Some, again, were struggling, half-buried in the ground; -while others, already extricated, were assisting their kinsmen in their -efforts to disinter themselves. The scene was made a section, in order -to give the spectator a view of an immense host of cherubim above, -sitting upon a massy pile of cloud; through, which--the middle point of -the picture--the summoning angel was throwing himself down, with a -trumpet in his hand; which, according to the relative scale of the work, -must have been several leagues, at least, in length. Having passed under -this gate-way, you entered a small square yard, paved with black and -white stones, placed diamond-wise; and facing you was the hall itself, -up three stone-steps, and with a wooden portico. - -This solitary building, silent and retired, though in the heart of a -crowded city, has been my home for nearly sixty years. I have become -assimilated to the place by long usage. I am myself silent, retired, and -tenacious of old habits; though I do not think this is my natural -disposition. But why do I talk of natural disposition? Are we not all -moulded and made what we are by time and outward influences? However, -when I was at school I was a cheerful boy, though the monastic life of -Christ's Hospital is not calculated to improve the spirits. It was only -on entering my father's office that I began to be subdued to the formal -being which I have since become. The portraits of my predecessors hang -in the hall; they are exactly alike, both in features and in dress, -except that the first two wore hair-powder. It was my father's pride -that he clung to the style of dress which was prevalent when he was a -young man, which he considered to be, in every way, superior to all -modern inventions. I was only released from the absurd dress of the -blue-coat boy to be put into garments equally provocative of remarks -from impertinent boys. The family costume is, _imprimis_, a pair of -knee-breeches with buckles; then a blue coat with metal buttons; and a -large white cravat, spread out over the whole chest, and ornamented in -the middle with a cornelian brooch. The same brooch appears in every one -of the portraits. I have worn this dress all my life, with the exception -of a short period, when I changed it to return to it shortly again. - -If happiness consists in having many friends, I ought to have been a -happy man. Old carvers, neighbors, pensioners of the company, every one -down to the housekeeper, and Tom Lawton, my only clerk, spoke kindly of -me. Theirs was no lip-service. I knew they liked me in their hearts. The -world, too, had gone smoothly with me. I knew nothing of the struggles -for bread, the hardships and wrongs which other men endure. They -appeared to me even fabulous when I read them. The means of getting my -living were put into my hands. The company seemed almost grateful to my -father for bringing me up to the office. My income was two hundred -pounds per annum, as well as the house to live in, and coals and -candles, which was more than I needed for my support, though I always -found means of disposing of the surplus, and never saved any thing. I -was not, however, a happy man. I had always the feeling of a spirit -subdued to a life to which it was not suited. I do not say that in -another sphere I should have led a boisterous life. My mind was, -perhaps, more prone to reflection than to action, although I felt that -if I had been more in the world, if I had known more of life and change, -I should have been a happier man. But from my earliest days the vanity -of life, and the virtue of keeping aloof from temptation, were instilled -into me. "A rolling stone gathers no moss," was the first proverb which -I heard from my father's mouth. These principles, implanted early, took -deep root, though, perhaps, in an unfavorable soil. Living also under -the same roof with my father, I felt alarmed at every whispering of my -own inclinations which was opposed to his wishes, and strove to subdue -them, as if I were struggling with the evil portion of my nature. Thus, -in course of time, I became what I am; not a misanthrope, thank God, but -a timid and somewhat melancholy man. We had no mirth-making in our -household, except at Christmas-time, when we feasted, in good earnest. -My father loved at that time to display a rough hospitality. We had -generally two or three nights of merry-making, at which were both young -and old people--all carvers, or the children of carvers--and after his -death I continued the custom. Often, as I sat with my happy friends -about me, some sweet young woman would give me a sly hit upon my -obdurate determination to die an old bachelor; little thinking that her -heedless words could give me pain, though they cut me deeply, and set me -looking at the fire with a thoughtful face. I might have married, -perhaps, if I had found a partner; my income was not large, but many men -run the risk of a family with less means to support one than I had; but, -somehow, I found myself at forty-five years of age unmarried, slim, and -prim--the very type of an old bachelor. It was not from indifference, -for I was by nature sensitive and affectionate. For women I had a kind -of reverence. I pictured them to myself all that is noble and good: yet, -in their presence, I only looked upon them timidly, speaking little, but -thinking of them, perhaps, long afterward when they were gone. - -One result of my reputation for gravity was a number of executorships -which had been imposed upon me by deceased friends. Any one would have -thought that there was a conspiracy abroad to overwhelm me with proofs -of confidence. My stock of mourning rings is considerable. The -expression, "Nineteen guineas for his trouble," had to me an old -familiar sound with it. At length I was obliged to hint to any old -carver who waxed sickly, that my duties in that way were already as much -as I could fulfill. There was, however, an old grocer of my -acquaintance, named Cawthorne, who would make me executor of his will, -in spite of my remonstrances, relieving my scruples by assuring me that -he had named another friend for my colleague, who, it was understood, -was to undertake, if we survived him, the greater part of his duties, -including the guardianship of his daughter Lucy. We did survive him; and -the other executor entered upon his office, seldom troubling me except -when absolutely necessary. Thus he went on for some years. The daughter -had become a fine young woman of nineteen, with blue eyes and fair hair, -rippled like the sunlight upon waters touched by a light wind. I saw her -often in the house when he was taken ill, and thought her very -beautiful. I fancied, sometimes, how she would look robed in pure white, -and holding in her hand an olive branch, as I had seen some angels -carved in stone. I have met her ascending the stairs with a candle in -her hand, the light striking upward, like a glory on her face, and she -seemed to me not to mount from step to step, but slowly to ascend -without a movement of the feet. My feeling with regard to her almost -amounted to a superstitious awe; for I seldom spoke many words to her, -and I think, at first, she thought me harsh and cold. At length her -guardian died, and although I had known from the first that in that -event his duty would devolve upon me, the fact seemed to take me by -surprise. I could hardly believe that henceforth, for some time, she -would look to me as her sole protector. However, in a short time, the -affairs of my deceased colleague were set in order, and she came to -reside with me in the old Hall. - -She soon forgot her first antipathy, and we became good friends -together. I took her over the old place, and showed her the library and -the paintings, and every thing there that was quaint and curious. We had -a garden at the back of the Hall, in which she sat at work on fine days. -It was not large, but it was nevertheless a garden, and in the midst of -London. It was planted with shrubs, and contained two or three large -trees, as well as a rustic seat upon a grass-plot; though the grass was -not very thriving, on account of the trees shutting out the sun and air. -However, sitting here, the back of the Hall had a picturesque look, half -covered with the great leaves of a fig-tree nailed against the wall, and -with its worn stone steps guarded on each side by an aloe in a green -tub. This was her favorite place. She worked or read there in the -morning, and in the afternoon she taught two little nieces of the -housekeeper to read and write. Sometimes, in the evening, I got an old -book from the library, and read to her, and made her laugh at its -quaintness. I remember one translation of a Spanish novel in folio, -printed in the seventeenth century, which amused her very much. The -translation occupied one half of the book, and the prefaces the other. -There was the Translator's "Apology for his labor;" "A declaration for -the better understanding of the book;" an address "To the learned -Reader;" another "To the discreet and courteous Reader;" and another "To -the vulgar Reader," with some others; and, finally, the Spanish novel -itself was ushered in by a number of verses in English and Latin, -laudatory of the book and the translator, by celebrated men of the -period. - -On Sunday we sat at church, in the same pew, and often I forgot my own -devotions in listening to the earnest tones with which she said the -prayers. I thought that she, of all that congregation, was best fitted -to speak those words of Christian love. I was vexed to hear an old -overseer of the parish, whom I knew to be a bad and worldly man, in the -next pew, repeating the same words in a drawling tone; and I could -almost have requested him to say them to himself. - -Thus, ours was not a very cheerful way of life for a young maiden; but -she seemed always happy and contented. For myself, although I was sorry -for the death of my co-executor, I blessed the day when she came into -the house; and I grieved that I had objected to become her guardian from -the first, that she might have grown up from childhood with me, and -learnt to look up to me as a father. Living with her daily, and noting -all her thoughts and actions, sometimes even when she did not suspect -that I observed her, I saw her purer than the purest of my own ideals. -My feeling was almost an idolatry. If I had, at forty-five years of age, -still any thoughts of marrying, I renounced them for her sake, and -resolved to devote all my care to her, until such time as she should -find a husband worthy of her. - -By an ancient bequest to the Company, we distributed, on the day before -Christmas-day, to twenty-four poor people, a loaf of bread, a small log -of wood, or bavin, as we call it, and the sum of two shillings and -ten-pence to each person. The recipients were all old, decrepit men and -women. There was an ancient regulation, still unrepealed, that they -should all attend on the following court-day, at noon precisely, to -"return thanks for the same;" though that performance of mechanical -gratitude had been allowed to fall into disuse by a more philosophical -generation. The first Christmas after Lucy came there, she begged me to -let her distribute these gifts, and I consented. I stood at my little -desk at the end of the hall, with my face resting upon my hands, -watching her, and listening to her talking to the old people. Next to -the pleasure of hearing her speak to little children, I delighted to -hear her talk with the very aged folks. There was something in the -contrast of the two extremes of life--the young and beautiful maiden, -and the bent and wrinkled old people--that pleased me. She heard all -their oft-repeated complaints, their dreary accounts of their agues and -rheumatics, and consoled them as well as she could; and, with some of -the very old, she took their brown and sinewy hands in hers, and led -them down the steps. I did not know what ailed me that day. I stood -dreaming and musing, till I seemed to have lost that instinctive -dexterity with which we perform the simple operations of our daily -life. Some accounts lay before me which I was anxious to cast, but -several times I essayed, and seemed incapable of doing so. As the simple -words of our daily language, which issue from our lips simultaneously -with the thought, become vague and indistinct if we muse upon their -origin, and repeat them several times to ourselves; so by dwelling long -upon the idea of the work before me, it seemed to have become confused, -and difficult to realize. I handed them over to my clerk, Tom Lawton, -who sat opposite to me. - -Poor Tom Lawton! I thought I saw him looking anxiously at me, several -times, when I raised my eyes. No being upon earth ever loved me more -than he. It is true, I had done him some acts of kindness, but I had -often done as much for others, who had forgotten it since; whereas his -gratitude became a real affection for me, which never failed to show -itself each day that he was with me. He was a fine young man, and a -great favorite with the housekeeper, who said "she liked him because he -was so good to his mother, just as she thought her poor son would have -been if he had lived." Tom was fond of reading, and sometimes wrote -verses, of which he made copies for his friends in a neat hand. He was a -shrewd fellow in some things, but in others he was as simple as a child. -His temper was the sweetest in the world--the children knew that. No -diving into his coat-pocket ever ruffled him; no amount of pulling his -hair could ever induce him to cry out. - -Tom was to spend his Christmas Eve with us, and to make "toast and ale," -as was our custom; so, when the gifts were all distributed, he left me, -and ran home to dress himself smartly for the occasion. I stood at my -desk, still musing, till the evening closed upon the short and wintry -afternoon. Lucy came and called me, saying the tea was on the table. - -"We thought you were fallen asleep," said she. "Mr. Lawton is come." - -We sat round a large fire in the old wainscoted sitting-room, while Lucy -made the tea--and would have made the toast, too; but Tom said he would -sooner burn his eyes out than suffer her to do so. The housekeeper came -up, and afterward came an old carver and his daughter. We sat till after -midnight. The old carver told some anecdotes of people whom my father -knew; and Tom told a ghost story, which kept them all in breathless -terror, till it turned out, at last, to be a dream. But I was restless, -and spoke little. Once, indeed, I answered the old carver sharply. He -had patted Lucy on the head, and said he supposed she would be soon -getting married, and leaving us old people. I could not endure the -thought of her leaving us; though I knew that she would do so, probably, -one day. She had never looked to me more interesting than she did that -evening. A little child, worn out with playing, had fallen asleep, with -its head upon her lap; and, as she was speaking to us, her hand was -entangled in its hair. I gazed at her, and caught up every word she -spoke; and when she stopped, my restlessness returned. I strove in vain -to take part in their mirth. I wanted to be alone. - -When I sat that night in my little bedroom, I was thinking still of -Lucy. I heard her voice still sounding in my ear; and, when I shut my -eyes, I pictured her still before me, with her dear kind face, and her -little golden locket hung upon her neck. I fell asleep and dreamed of -her. I woke, and waited for the daylight, thinking of her still. So we -passed all the Christmas holidays. Sometimes it was a happy feeling -which possessed me; and sometimes I almost wished that I had never seen -her. I was always restless and anxious; I knew not for what. I became a -different man to that which I had been before I knew her. - -When, at last, I concealed from myself no longer that I loved her -fondly, deeply--deeper, I believe, than ever man has loved--I became -alarmed. I knew what people would say, if it came to be known. She had -some property, and I had nothing; but what was worse, I was forty-five -years of age, and she was only twenty. I was, moreover, her guardian; -and she had been consigned to my care by her dying father, in -confidence, that if she came under my protection, I would act toward her -as he himself would have acted, if he had lived, not dreaming that I -should encourage other thoughts than those of a protector and a friend. -I knew that I should have been jealous, angry, with any one who evinced -a liking for her; and yet I asked myself whether it was right that I -should discourage any man who might make her happy; who, perhaps, would -love her nearly as much as I did, and be more suited for her, by reason -of his youth and habits; not like mine, sedate and monkish. Even if I -eventually gained her affections, would not the world say that I had -exerted the undue influence of my authority over her; or that I had kept -her shut up from society; so that, in her ignorance of life, she mistook -a feeling of respect for a stronger sentiment? And, again, if all these -things were set aside, was it not wrong that I should take a young and -beautiful girl and shut her up in that old place forever--checking the -natural gayety of youth, and bringing her by slow degrees to my old -ways? I saw the selfishness of all my thoughts, and resolved to strive -to banish them forever. - -But they would not leave me. Each day I saw something in her that -increased my passion. I watched her as she went from room to room. I -walked stealthily about the place, in the hope of seeing her somewhere -unobserved, and hearing her speak, and stealing away again before she -saw me. I walked on tiptoe once, and saw her through the open door, -thoughtful--looking at the candle--with her work untouched beside her. I -fancied to myself what thoughts possessed her: perhaps the memory of a -friend, no longer of this world, had touched her suddenly, -and made her mute and still; or, perhaps, the thought of some one -dearer. The idea ran through me like a subtle poison, and I shuddered. I -thought she started. I believe it was a fancy; but I stole away -hurriedly, on tiptoe, and never looked behind me till I reached my -corner in the Hall. - -Every one remarked a change in me. Lucy looked at me anxiously -sometimes, and asked me if I was not ill. Tom Lawton grieved to see me -so dejected, till he became himself as grave as an old man. I sat -opposite to Lucy sometimes, with a book in my hand. I had ceased to read -aloud; and she seeing that I took no pleasure in it, did not press me to -do so. I looked at the pages, without a thought of their contents, -simply to avoid her looks. I thought, at last, that she grew vexed with -my neglect. One night I suddenly threw down my book, and looking at her -boldly and intently, to observe the expression of her features, I said, - -"I have been thinking, Lucy, that you grow weary of my dull ways. You do -not love me now, as you did some months ago." - -"Oh, yes!" she replied, "indeed I do. I do not know what makes you talk -like this, unless I have offended you in something. But I see it now," -she said. "I must have said something that has given you pain; though it -was never in my thought to do so. And this is why you treat me coldly, -day by day, and never let me know what I have done." - -She came over to me, and took my hand in hers; and, with tears in her -eyes, begged me to tell her what it was. - -"I know," she said, "I have no friend more kind and good than you. My -father died before I knew how great a friend I had in him; but, had he -lived, I never could have loved him more than I love you." - -"Well, well, Lucy," said I, "I did not mean to hurt you. I know not why -I reproached you. I am not well; and when I feel thus, I know not what I -say." - -"Kiss me, then," said she, "and tell me you are not angry with me; and -do not think now, that I am tired of living here with you. I will do -every thing to make you happy. I will not ask you to read. I will put -away my work and read to you in future. I have seen you silent, looking -unhappy, and have said nothing--thinking that was best, as I did not -know what it was that made you so; and you have thought, perhaps, that I -was vexed with you, and wished to show it by a sullen air. But now I -will strive to make you cheerful. I will read and sing to you, and we -will play at draughts, sometimes, as we used to do. Indeed, I like this -old place, and all that live in it, and never was so happy in my life as -I have been since I came here." - -I placed my hand upon her head, and kissed her on the forehead, saying -nothing. - -"You are trembling," she exclaimed; "this is not merely illness. You -have some sorrow on your mind that haunts you. Tell me what it is that -ails you; perhaps I may be able to console you. I have not so much -experience as you; but sometimes a young mind can advise the oldest and -the most experienced. Perhaps, too, you magnify your trouble by brooding -over it; you think upon it, till your mind is clouded, and you can not -see the remedy, which I, looking at it for the first time, might see -directly. Besides," she said, seeing me hesitate, "if you do not tell -me, I shall always be unhappy--imagining a hundred evils, each, perhaps, -more serious than the truth." - -"No, Lucy," said I, "I am unwell; I have felt thus for some time, and -to-night I feel worse. I must go to bed; I shall be better after a -night's rest." - -I lighted a candle, and, bidding her good night, left her and stole up -to bed--afraid to stay longer, lest I should be tempted to reveal my -secret. Oh, how could I endure the thought of her kind words, more -painful to me than the coldest scorn! She had said she loved me as a -father. In the midst of all her kindness, she had spoken of my age and -my experience. Did I, then, look so old as that? Yes, I knew that it was -not my years which made me old; it was my staid manners, my grave and -thoughtful face, which made me look an old man, even in my prime. -Bitterly I complained of my father, who had shut me out from the -knowledge of all that makes life beautiful; who had biased me to a -belief that such a life as his was best, by hiding from me all -comparison; till now, when I perceived my error, it was too late to -repair it. I surveyed my antiquated garments with disgust; my huge -cravat; the very hair of my head, by long training, become old-fashioned -beyond all reclaiming. My whole appearance was that of a man who had -slept for half a century, except that I was without a speck or soil. I -believe they would have admitted me to a masquerade in such a dress, -without a single alteration, and think that I had hired it for the -occasion. But a new hope sprang up within me. I would change my way of -life--I would try to be more cheerful; I would wear more modern clothes, -and endeavor, at least, not to make myself look older than I was. - -I have known nothing like the peace of mind which these thoughts brought -me, for many days. I wondered that what was so obvious had not occurred -to me before. I had gone about dreaming in my absent way, brooding -unprofitably over my troubles, instead of devising something practical -and useful. But I would act differently--I would not despair. -Five-and-forty years was, after all, no great age. I recalled to my mind -many instances of men marrying long after that time with women younger -than themselves, and living afterward very happily. I remembered one of -our wardens who married at sixty a young and very beautiful women, and -every one saw how happy they were, and how she loved her husband for -years, till a rascal, by slow and artful steps, won over her -affections, and she ran away with him. But Lucy would not do that; I -knew too well the goodness of her nature to have any fear of such a -result. Then I thought how kind I would be to her--studying every way -that could amuse and please a youthful mind; till she, seeing how all my -life was devoted to her, would come to love me in the end. I planned out -minutely our way of life. I would invite more friends to visit us, and -we would go out and visit others. We would play at our old game of -draughts together in the winter evenings, and sometimes I would take her -to the theatre. In the summer we would go into the country--lingering -all day long in quiet, shady places, and returning about dusk. Sweet -thoughts, that held my mind until I slept, and lingered, breeding -pleasant dreams. - -The next day I visited my tailor, who took my orders with evident -astonishment. My clothes were brought home in a few days, and I threw -off my knee-breeches, as I thought, forever. I felt a little uneasy in -my new attire--my legs had been so long used to feel cool and -unrestrained, that the trowsers were irksome. However, I supposed I -should soon become accustomed to them; and they really made me look some -years younger. What would my father have said if he had visited the -earth that day and seen me? My hair, however, was less manageable--in -vain I parted it on the right side, and brushed it sideways, instead of -backward, as I had hitherto done. For five-and-forty years it had been -brushed in one direction, and it seemed as if nothing but five-and-forty -years' daily brushing in the other, could ever reverse it. I descended -from my room, trying to look unconscious of any thing unusual in my -appearance. It was court-day: the Warden and Assistants stared at me, -and would have laughed, no doubt, if most of them had not left off -laughing for many years. Some of them, however, coughed; and one -addressed to me some simple questions, evidently intended to test my -sanity. I felt a little vexed; for I thought it was no concern of -theirs, if I chose to adopt some alterations in my dress. However, I -said nothing, but went quietly through my duties. Tom Lawton was there. -It should have been a joyful day for him; for they increased his salary -at that court. But he looked at me compassionately, and evidently -thought, like the rest, that I was going mad. I was, however, amply -consoled--for Lucy was pleased to see the change in my dress and -manners. I laughed and chatted with her, and she read to me, and sang, -as she had promised. Thus I went on for some time; when something of my -old restlessness came back. I saw how little she suspected that I loved -her more than as a friend; and fearing still to let her know the truth, -I felt that I might go on thus for years to little purpose. So, by -degrees, I returned to my former sadness, and became again reserved and -thoughtful. - -One night, I descended from my little room into the garden, and walked -about with my hat in my hand, for I felt feverish and excited. -Night after night, my sleep had been broken and disturbed by -dreams, that glided from my memory when I woke, but left a feeling of -despondency that followed me throughout the day. Sometimes, I thought, -myself, that my reason was deserting me. We were very busy at that time, -and Tom Lawton and I were to have worked together all the evening, but I -had left him; utterly unable to fix my attention upon what I set before -me. I paced to and fro several times, when passing by the window where I -had left him at work, I heard him speaking with some one. A word, which -I fancied having caught, made me curious, and I mounted upon a stone -ledge and listened; for the sliding pane of glass which served to -ventilate the Hall had been pushed back, and I could hear distinctly -when I applied my ear to the aperture. The light being inside, I could -not be seen, although I could see his desk. The lamp was shaded, and the -window was of stained glass, so that I did not see very clearly. But I -had a quick vision for such a scene as that before me. - -That form standing beside Tom Lawton, with its hand in his, was Lucy's! -The blood rushed to my head. A thousand little lights were dancing -before my eyes. I felt myself falling, but I made an effort, and -clutched the window-sill and listened. It was Lucy's voice that I heard -first. - -"Hush!" she said, "I heard a noise; there is some one coming. -Good-night! Good-night!" - -"No, no," said Tom, "it is the wind beating the dead leaves against the -window." - -They seemed to listen for a moment, and then he spoke again, - -"Oh, Miss Lucy, do not run away before we have talked together a little. -I see you now so seldom, and when I do there are others present, and I -can not speak to you of what is always uppermost in my thoughts. I think -of you all day, and at night I long for the next morning, to be in the -same house with you, in the hope of seeing you before I go; though I am -continually disappointed. I think I am unfortunate in all but one thing, -though that consoles me for the rest--I think you love me a little, -Lucy." - -"Yes, Tom, I do; a great deal. I have told you so many times, and I am -not ashamed to repeat it. I would not hide it from any one, if you did -not tell me to do so. But why do you tease yourself with fancies, and -think yourself unfortunate? I do not know why we should not tell him all -about it. He is the kindest being in the world, and I know he would not -thwart me in any thing that could procure my happiness; and then, again, -you are a favorite of his, and I am sure he would be delighted to think -that we loved each other." - -"No, no, Lucy; you must not say a word about it. What would he think of -me, with nothing in the world but my small salary, encouraging -such thoughts toward you, who are rich; and going on like this--laying -snares, as he would say, for months, to gain your affections, and never -saying a word about it; bringing, too, disgrace upon him, as your -guardian, that he had suffered a poor clerk in his office to find -opportunities of speaking to you alone, and at last persuading you to -promise to become his wife one day?" - -"All this you have told me many a time; but indeed this need not be an -obstacle. I wish that I had not sixpence in the world. My money is -become a misfortune to us, instead of a blessing, as it should be. I -wish I might give it away, or renounce it altogether. I am sure we -should be as well without it, one day; and if we had to wait a long -time, we should still be able to see one another openly, and not have to -watch for secret opportunities, as if we were doing wrong. You do not -know, Tom, how unhappy the thought of all this makes me. I never had a -secret before, that I feared to tell before the whole world; and now I -sit, night after night, with him from whom I should conceal nothing, and -feel that I am deceiving him. Every time he looks at me, I fancy that he -knows all about it, and thinks me an artful girl, and waits to see how -long I shall play my part before him. Many times I have been tempted to -tell him all, in spite of your injunction, and beg him not to be angry -with me because I had not dared to tell him before. I would have taken -all blame upon myself, and said that I had loved you secretly before you -had ever spoken to me about it--any thing I would have said rather than -feel myself deceitful, as I do!" - -"Lucy!" exclaimed Tom, in a broken voice, "you must not--you must not, -indeed, ever give way to such an impulse. I know not what might come of -it, if he knew. It would ruin us--perhaps, be the cause of our being -separated forever--make him hate us both, and never pardon me, at least, -while he lives. Oh, Lucy! I have not told you all. Something yet more -serious remains behind." - -"Tell me--what is this, Tom?--you alarm me!" - -"Come here then, and bring your ear closer. No; I will not tell you. Do -not ask me again. It is, perhaps, only a fancy, which has come into my -head because I am anxious about you, and imagine all kinds of -misfortunes that might arise to make us wretched. But, oh! if I am -right, we are, indeed, unfortunate. No misfortune that could befall us -could be equal to this." - -Lucy's eyes were filled with tears. "I do not like to go back into the -parlor," she said, "lest he should be there, and ask me why I have been -crying. He was in his room, upstairs, I think, just now, and he may have -come down, and I am sure I could not stand before him as I am. You have, -indeed, made me miserable. Oh! Tom, Tom, do tell me what this is?" - -"I _can not_ tell you," he replied, "it would not be right to -breathe a word about it till I have surer ground for my suspicion. Let -me dry your eyes, and now go back into the parlor, or your absence will -be observed." - -Twice he bade her "good-night" before she left him, and each time I saw -him put his arms about her, and kiss her; then he called after her, - -"Lucy!" - -She turned back, and ran up to him. - -"I hardly know why I called you back. Only, I may not see you again for -some time, and it may be many, many days, before I can speak to you -alone." - -"Well?" - -I trembled for what he was about to say, and in my anxiety to catch his -words, I put my ear closer, and, in so doing, struck the door of the -ventilator. - -"Hark! I thought I heard something moving. Go, go!" said Tom. -"Good-night! Good-night!" And she glided across the hall, and was gone -in a moment. - -In the eagerness with which I had listened to their conversation, I had -not had time to feel the terrible blow which I had received. It was only -when the voices ceased, that I felt how all my hopes had been shattered -in a moment. I relaxed my hold; and, alighting on the ground, walked -again to and fro--but more hurriedly than before. I had never dreamed of -this: Tom Lawton! - -I sat down upon the garden-seat, and wept and sobbed like a child--the -first time for many years. I could not help feeling angry with them -both. "Oh!" thought I, "Tom Lawton, you were right in thinking that I -should never pardon you for this. You have taken away the one hope of my -life. I shall hate you while I live. Lucy, also, I blame; but my anger -is chiefly with you. In order to shield you, she would have told me, -poor child, that she only was to blame; but I know better. You have laid -snares for her, and inveigled her; your heart told you that you had, -when you put the words into my mouth." - -I walked about and sat down again several times. I groaned aloud, for my -heart was swelled almost to bursting. So I continued for some time -fiercely denouncing my rival to myself; but that night, upon my bed, -when I was worn out with my passion, a better feeling came upon me. I -grew more calm and resigned to my misfortune. I saw how useless--nay, -how wrong, would be all persecution; and I felt that it was natural that -the young should love the young before the old. So, with a sorrowful and -humbled spirit, I resolved to encourage them and bring about their -union. God knows how much the resolution cost me; but it brought with it -a certain peace of mind--a consciousness of doing rightly--which -sustained me in my purpose. I would not delay a day, lest my resolution -should waver. In the morning I walked into the parlor, and bidding Tom -Lawton follow me, stood there before him and Lucy. Tom looked pale as -if he dreaded my anger. - -"I expect," said I, "a direct answer to what I am going to ask you. Have -you not given your faith to one another?" - -Tom turned paler still; but Lucy answered before he could say a word, -and confessing all, said she took the blame upon herself; but Tom -interrupted her, exclaiming that he only was to blame. - -"There is no blame attached to either," said I, "except for a little -concealment, for which I pardon you." - -Thus far I had done the duty which I had set before me; but I did not -feel it to be completed till they were married. - -About three months after I gave my permission, and the day was fixed. I -saw them the happiest creatures upon earth. They never knew my secret. -That Tom had suspected it, and that it was to that he referred when he -was speaking to Lucy in the hall, I had never doubted; though the -readiness with which I had befriended them had deceived him. He had -taken a small house, and every thing was ready. But, on the day before -their wedding, my heart failed me. I knew then that I had never ceased -to love her, and I could not endure the thought of her marriage. I felt -that I must go away until the day was past; so I gave out that I had -suddenly received a summons to go into the country, and that it was my -wish that the marriage should not be delayed on that account. That night -I went away, not caring whither. - -I know what were my thoughts in those two days that I was absent. When I -returned, the Hall was silent--Lucy was gone; and I was again alone in -the old place. - -I remain there. - - - - -HOW TO BE IDOLIZED. - - -The hyperbole of being "idolized" was never, perhaps, made a literal -truth in so striking a manner as is shown in the following story; for -which we are indebted to a French author. - -In 1818, the good ship "Dido" left the Mauritius, on her voyage to -Sumatra. She had a cargo of French manufactures on board, which her -captain was to barter for coffee and spice with the nabobs of the Sunda -Isles. After a few days' sail, the vessel was becalmed; and both -passengers and crew were put on short allowance of provisions and water. - -Preserved meats, fruits, chocolate, fine flour, and live-stock, were all -exhausted, with the exception of one solitary patriarchal cock, who, -perched on the main-yard, was mourning his devastated harem, like Mourad -Bey after the battle of the Pyramids. - -The ship's cook, Neptune, a Madagascar negro, received orders, one -morning, to prepare this bird for dinner; and, once more, the hungry -denizens of the state-cabin snuffed up the delicious odor of roast fowl. -The captain took a nap, in order to cheat his appetite until -dinner-time; and the chief mate hovered like a guardian-angel round the -caboose, watching lest any audacious spoiler should lay violent hands on -the precious dainty. - -Suddenly, a cry of terror and despair issued from the cook's cabin, and -Neptune himself rushed out, the picture of affright, with both his hands -twisted, convulsively, in the sooty wool that covered his head. What was -the matter? Alas! in an ill-starred hour the cook had slumbered at his -post, and the fowl was burnt to a cinder. - -A fit of rage, exasperated by hunger and a tropical sun, is a fearful -thing. The mate, uttering a dreadful imprecation, seized a large knife, -and rushed at Neptune. At that moment, one of the passengers, named -Louis Bergaz, interposed to ward off the blow. The negro was saved, but -his preserver received the point of the steel in his wrist, and his -blood flowed freely. With much difficulty the other passengers succeeded -in preventing him, in his turn, from attacking the mate; but, at length, -peace was restored, the aggressor having apologized for his violence. As -to poor Neptune, he fell on his knees, and kissed and embraced the feet -of his protector. - -In a day or two the breeze sprang up, and the "Dido" speedily reached -Sumatra. Four years afterward, it happened, one day, that Louis Bergaz -was dining at the public table of an English boarding-house at Batavia. -Among the guests were two learned men who had been sent out by the -British Government to inspect the countries lying near the equator. -During dinner, the name of Bergaz happening to be pronounced distinctly -by one of his acquaintances at the opposite side of the table, the -oldest of the _savans_ looked up from his plate, and asked, -quickly, - -"Who owns the name of Bergaz?" - -"I do." - -"Curious enough," said the _savant_, "you bear the same name as a god of -Madagascar." - -"Have they a god called Bergaz?" asked Louis, smilingly. - -"Yes. And if you like, after dinner, I will show you an article on the -subject, which I published in an English scientific journal." - -Louis thanked him; and afterward read as follows: - -"The population of Madagascar consists of a mixture of Africans, Arabs, -and the aboriginal inhabitants. These latter occupy the kingdom of the -Anas, and are governed by a queen. The Malagasys differ widely from the -Ethiopian race, both in their physical and moral characteristics. They -are hospitable and humane, but extremely warlike, because a successful -foray furnishes them with slaves. It is a mistake to believe that the -Malagasys worship the devil, and that they have at Teintingua a tree -consecrated to the Evil One. They have but one temple, dedicated to the -god Bergaz (_beer_, source, or well, in the Chaldean, and _gaz_, light, -in the Malagasy tongue.) To this divinity they are ardently devoted, -and at stated periods offer him the sacrifice of a cock, as the ancient -Greeks did to Æsculapius. So true it is that the languages and -superstitions of all lands and ages are linked together by mysterious -bonds, which neither time nor distance can destroy." - -Louis Bergaz thought the latter philosophical reflection very striking. - -"You can scarcely imagine," said his companion, "how important these -remote analogies, traced out by us with so much labor and fatigue, are -to the advancement of science!" - -Bergaz bowed, and was silent. - -The cares of a busy commercial life soon caused him to forget both the -philosopher and his own idol namesake. - -After the lapse of about two years, Bergaz set out to purchase ebony at -Cape St. Maria, in Madagascar; but a violent tempest forced the vessel -to stop at Simpaï on the Avas coast. While the crew were busy refitting -the ship, Bergaz started off to explore the interior of the country. -There are no carnivorous wild beasts in Madagascar; but, there is -abundance of game to tempt the sportsman: and Louis, with his gun on his -shoulder, followed the chase of partridges, quails, and pheasants, for -several miles, until he reached the border of a thick bamboo jungle. - -There, he saw a number of the natives prostrate before the entrance of a -large hut. They were singing, with one accord, a monotonous sort of -hymn, whose burden was the word "Bergaz!" so distinctly pronounced, that -Louis immediately recollected the account given him by the philosopher -in Batavia. - -Impelled by very natural curiosity, he stepped forward, and peeped into -the temple. No attempt had been made to ornament its four walls, built -of bamboo, cemented with clay; but, in the centre of the floor stood, on -a pedestal, the statue of the god Bergaz, and Louis was greatly struck -with his appearance. - -The idol, although far from being a finished work of art, was yet far -superior in form and workmanship to the ordinary divinities of savage -nations. The figure represented a man, dressed in European costume, with -a wide straw hat on his head, and a striped muslin cravat round his -neck. He was standing in the attitude of one who is intercepting a blow, -and his right hand was stained with blood. There was even an attempt, -Louis Bergaz thought, to imitate his own features; and the god had thick -black whiskers meeting under his chin, precisely such as Louis had worn -in 1818. The dress, too, resembled his own; and the cravat, marked in -the corner, L. B., was one which he had given Neptune the cook. In a few -minutes, a procession of natives entered the temple; they kindled a fire -in a sort of chafing-dish; and, placing on it a dead cock, burnt the -sacrifice before their god, amid loud acclamation. Bergaz, unluckily, -was not able to preserve his gravity during this pious ceremonial. He -burst into a fit of laughter, and was instantly seized by the offended -worshipers. With shouts of rage they were about to sacrifice him to -their outraged deity, when a noise of cymbals announced the approach of -the chief of the tribe. The high priest met him at the door, and -announced the sacrilegious conduct of the stranger. The incensed -chieftain seized a Malayan _crease_, and ran to take vengeance on -the offender. Bergaz turned and looked at him; each uttered a cry of -surprise; the next moment, the chief was embracing the feet of Louis. - -"Neptune, old fellow! what is all this?" asked Bergaz pointing to the -figure, "Bergaz is my god!" cried the negro, striking his breast. Then, -to the unbounded astonishment of all present, the European and the chief -walked off lovingly together toward the palace of the latter. - -On their way thither, Neptune related his history to his friend. The -powerful Radamas, sovereign of Madagascar, had concluded a treaty of -peace with his enemy Réné. The wife of the latter, being a woman of -genius, was named queen of the Anas, by an edict of Radama; and this -lady was the sister of Neptune, ex-cook of the Dido. - -No sooner was she seated on the throne than she released her brother -from his menial situation, and gave him absolute authority over the -small province of Simpaï. - -Neptune's first act was an endeavor to manifest his gratitude, after the -strange fashion of his people, to his protector Bergaz; and we may fancy -how cordial was the reception, how warm and affectionate the welcome, -bestowed on the living benefactor, whose wooden semblance he and his -people worshiped as a god. The grateful negro loaded him with presents, -and sent his most skillful workmen to assist in repairing the ship. -Probably, to this day, the god Bergaz may still be worshiped in Simpaï; -and the Æsculapian cock may still excite the wonder, and fill the -note-books of traveling philosophers. - - - - -THE CHILD COMMODORE. - - -After a long continental ramble, I was glad to have the prospect of -getting home again; but an embargo was laid upon me at Boulogne. It blew -great guns from the opposite side of the Channel. The genius of Albion -was not just then in the mood for receiving visits, or welcoming the -return of absentees; and so the steam-packet lay fretting in the harbor, -and rubbing her sides peevishly against the pier; while her intending -passengers were distributed among the hotels and boarding-houses, -venting their discontent on the good things of the table d'hôte, and -mounting every now and then to the garret to throw a scowling look to -windward. - -For my part I had been tossed about the world too long, and bumped too -hard against its rocks and snags, to think much of a little compulsory -tranquillity. On the second day I rather liked it. It was amusing to -watch the characters of my companions stealing out from beneath the vail -of conventionalism; and it was better than amusing to become actually -acquainted with one or two of them, as if we were indeed -men and women, and not the mere automata of society. Taking them in the -mass, however, a good deal of the distinction observable among them -depended on the mere circumstance of age. We old gentlemen sat coolly -sipping our wine after dinner, rarely alluding in conversation to our -present dilemma; while the green hands, after a whirl round the -billiard-table, drank their glass of brandy-and-water with vehemence, -and passed a unanimous vote of censure on the captain for his breach of -faith and unsailor-like timidity. - -"This is pleasant!" said I, smiling at one -of these outbreaks, which occurred late at night--"one -always meets something out of the way -in traveling." - -"_I_ never do," replied the gentleman I had addressed; "I find the -human character every where the same. You may witness the same kind of -absurdity among raw lads like these every day at home; and it is only -your own imagination that flings upon it here a different color. I wish -I _could_ see something strange!" - -"Perhaps, my dear sir," said I blandly, "you never look? For my part I -never fail to meet with something strange, if I have only the -opportunity of examining. Come, let us go out into the street, and I -shall undertake to prove it. Let us peep under the first vail or the -first slouched hat we meet, and I pledge myself that, on due inquiry, we -shall light upon a tale as odd or as wild as fancy ever framed. A bottle -of wine upon it?" - -"Done!" - -"Done, then: but hold, what's that?" - -"Le paquebot va partir à minuit!" - -"Hurra!" cried the young men. "The storm is not down a single breath, -and it is pitch dark! The captain's a trump after all!" - -Then there were hurrying steps and slamming doors, and flitting lights -through the whole house; then hasty reckonings, and jingling coins, and -bows, and shrugs, and fights with the sleeves of greatcoats; and -finally, stiff moving figures mummied in broadcloth; and grim faces, -half-visible between the cravat and cap; and slender forms, bonneted, -yet shapeless, clinging to stout arms, as we all floated out into the -night. - -"The Diet is deserted," said my friend, "pro loco et tempore." - -"Only the venue changed to shipboard," gasped I against the wind. -"Remember the first man, woman, or child that attracts our attention on -deck!" And so we parted, losing one another, and ourselves lost in the -unsteady crowd. - -The vessel had cleared the harbor before I met with my friend in the -darkness and confusion of the midnight deck: and when we were thrown -together, it was with such emphasis that we both came down. We fell, -however, upon a bundle of something comparatively soft--something that -stirred and winced at the contact--something that gave a low cry in -three several cadences, as if it had three voices. It gave us, in fact, -some confused idea of a mass of heads, legs, arms, and other -appurtenances of the human body; but the whole was shrouded in a sort of -woolly covering, the nature of which the darkness of the night and the -rolling of the ship rendered it impossible to ascertain. I thought to -myself for a moment that this was just the thing for my boasted -demonstration; but no philosophy could keep the deck under such -circumstances; and when my friend and I had gathered ourselves up, we -made the best of our way--and it was no easy task--to the cabin, and -crept into our berths. As I lay there in comparative coziness, my -thoughts reverted to that bundle of life, composed in all probability of -deck passengers, exposed to the cold night-wind and the drenching -spray; but I soon fell asleep, my sympathy merging as my faculties -became more dim in a grateful sense of personal comfort. - -As the morning advanced, the wind moderated, testifying to the -weather-wisdom of our captain; and my friend and I getting up betimes, -met once more upon the deck. The bundle of life was still there, just -without the sacred line which deck and steerage passengers must not -cross; and we saw that it was composed of human figures, huddled -together without distinction, under coarse and tattered cloaks. - -"These persons," said I dictatorially, pointing to them with my cane, -"have a story, and a strange one; and by-and-by we shall get at it." - -"The common story of the poor," replied my friend: "a story of hardship, -perhaps of hunger: but why don't they wake up?" - -This question seemed to have occurred to some of the other passengers, -and all looked with a sort of languid curiosity, as they passed, at the -breathing bundle of rags. After a time, some motion was observed beneath -the tattered cloaks, and at length a head emerged from their folds; a -head that might have been either a woman's or a little girl's, so old it -was in expression, and so young in size and softness. It _was_ a little -girl's, as was proved by the shoulders that followed--thin, slight, -childish; but so intelligent was the look she cast around, so full of -care and anxiety, that she seemed to have the burden of a whole family -on her back. After ascertaining by that look, as it seemed, what her -present position was, and bestowing a slight, sweeping glance upon the -bystanders, the ship, and the gloomy sky, she withdrew her thoughts from -these extraneous matters, and with a gentle hand, and some whispered -words, extracted from his bed of rags a small, pale, little boy. The boy -woke up in a sort of fright, but the moment his eyes rested on his -sister's face--for she _was_ his sister, that was clear--he was calm and -satisfied. No smiles were exchanged, such as might have befitted their -age; no remark on the novel circumstances of their situation. The boy -looked at nothing but the girl; and the girl smoothed his hair with her -fingers, arranged his threadbare dress, and breathing on his hands, -polished them with her sleeve. This girl, though bearing the marks of -premature age, could not in reality have been more than eleven, and the -boy was probably four years younger. - -A larger figure was still invisible, except in the indefinite outline of -the cloak, and my friend and I indulged in some whispered speculations -as to what it might turn out. - -"The elder sister doubtless," said he, with one of his cold smiles; "a -pretty and disconsolate young woman, the heroine of your intended -romance, and the winner of my bottle of wine!" - -"Have patience," said I, "have patience;" but I had not much myself. I -wished the young woman would awake, and I earnestly hoped--I confess the -fact--that she might prove to be as pretty as I was sure she was -disconsolate. You may suppose, therefore, that it was with some anxiety -I at length saw the cloak stir, and with some surprise I beheld emerge -from it one of the most ordinary and commonplace of all the daughters of -Eve. She was obviously the mother of the two children, but although -endowed with all her natural faculties, quite as helpless and dependent -as the little boy. She held out her hand to the little girl, who kissed -it affectionately in the dutiful morning fashion of Fatherland; and then -dropping with that action the manner of the child, resumed, as if from -habit, the authority and duties of the parent. She arranged her mother's -hair and dress as she had done those of her brother, dictated to her the -place and posture in which she was to sit, and passed a full half -hour--I can not now tell how--in quiet but incessant activity. - -Time passed on; the other passengers had all breakfasted; but no one had -seen the solitary family eat. Two or three of us remarked the -circumstance to each other, and suggested the propriety of our doing -something. But what to do was the question, for although poor, they were -obviously not beggars. I at length ventured to offer a biscuit to the -little boy. He looked at it, and then at his sister, but did not stir. -The proceeding, apparently, was contrary to their notions of etiquette; -and I presented the biscuit to the mother "for her little son." She took -it mechanically--indifferently--as if it was a thing she had no concern -in, and handed it to the girl. The little girl bowed gravely, muttered -some words in German, apparently of thanks, and dividing the biscuit -among them, in three unequal portions, of which she kept the smallest to -herself, they all began to eat with some eagerness. - -"Hunger!" said my friend--"I told you: nothing else." - -"We shall see;" but I could not think of my theory just then. The -family, it appeared, were starving; they had undertaken the little -voyage without preparation of any kind in food, extra clothing, or -money; and under such circumstances, they sat calmly, quietly, without -uttering a single complaint. In a few minutes a more substantial -breakfast was before them; and it was amusing to see the coolness with -which the little girl-commodore accepted the providential windfall, as -if it had been something she expected, although ignorant of the quarter -whence it should come, and the business-like gravity with which she -proceeded to arrange it on their joint laps, and distribute the shares. -Nothing escaped her; her sharp look was on every detail; if a fold of -her mother's cloak was out of order, she stopped her till she had set it -right; and when her brother coughed as he swallowed some tea, she raised -his face, and patted him on the back. I admired that little creature -with her wan face, and quick eyes, and thin fragile shoulders; but she -had no attention to bestow on any one but the family committed to her -charge. - -"This is comical," said my friend: "I wonder what they are. But they -have done breakfast: see how carefully the little girl puts away the -fragments! Let us now ask them for what you call their "story," and get -them to relate the romantic circumstances which have induced them to -emigrate to London, to join some of their relatives in the business of -selling matches or grinding organs!" - -We first tried the mother, but she, in addition to being of a singularly -taciturn, indifferent disposition, spoke nothing but German. The little -boy answered only with a negative or affirmative. The commodore of the -party, however, knew some words of French, and some of English, and we -were able to understand what she told us with no more difficulty than -arose from the oddity of the circumstances. The following is the -dialogue that took place between us, with her polyglott part translated -into common English. - -"Where are you from, my little lass?" - -"Is it me, sir? Oh, I am from New York." - -"From New York! What were you doing there!" - -"Keeping my father's room, sir: he is a journeyman." - -"And what brings you to Europe?" - -"My father sent me to bring over mother." - -"Sent _you_." - -"Yes, sir; and because my brother could not be left in the room all day -when my father was out at work, I took him with me." - -"What! and you two little children crossed the ocean to fetch your -mother?" - -"Oh, that is nothing: the ship brought us--we did not come. It was worse -when we landed in London; for there were so many people there, and so -many houses, it was just as if we had to find our way, without a ship, -through the waves of the sea." - -"And what were you to do in London." - -"I was to go to a countryman of ours, who would find me a passage to -France. But nobody we met in the street knew him, and nobody could -understand what place it was I asked for; and if we had not met a little -German boy with an organ, I do not know what we should have done. But -somebody always comes in time--God sends him. Father told us that." - -"And the little German boy took you to your countryman?" - -"Yes, and more than that! He bought some bread with a penny as we went -along, and we all sat down on a step and ate it." Here my friend -suddenly used his handkerchief, and coughed vigorously; but the young -girl went on without minding the interruption. - -"Our countryman gave us a whole handful of copper money, and a paper to -the captain of the ship. It was late before we got there, and we were so -tired that I could hardly get my brother along. But the captain was so -good as to let us sleep on the deck." - -"Your mother was in Germany. How did you get to her?" - -"Oh, we walked--but not always. Sometimes we got a cast in a wagon; and -when we were very hungry, and would not lay out our money, we were -always sure to get something given us to eat." - -"Then you _had_ money." - -"Oh yes, to be sure!" and the little girl gave a cunning twinkle of her -eye. "We could not get mother away, you know, without money--could we, -mother?" patting her on the back like one fondling a child. - -Such was the story of the little commodore--a story which was listened -to not only by my friend and myself, but by at least a score of other -persons, some of whom will no doubt be pleased to see it here -reproduced.[4] A collection was made for the travelers, whose boasted -funds had been exhausted at Boulogne; but what became of them afterward -I never knew. When we reached London, I saw them walk up the -landing-place--wholly unencumbered with baggage, poor things!--the -mother and the little boy clinging on either side to the commodore; and -so, like the shadowy figures in the "Pilgrim's Progress," "they passed -on their way, and I saw them no more." - -[Footnote 4: The writer is in earnest; this is a true -story.--ED.] - -For my own part, my theory had gone much further than I had thought of -carrying it. My friend himself was not more surprised than I by the -story of the little girl; and, like the Witch of Endor, when her -pretended incantations were answered by the actual apparition of the -prophet, I was stupefied by my own success. - - - - -HABITS AND AMUSEMENTS OF THE LONDON COSTERMONGERS.[5] - - -[Footnote 5: From MAYHEW'S "London Labor and the London -Poor," now publishing by Harper and Brothers.] - -I find it impossible to separate these two headings; for the habits of -the costermonger are not domestic. His busy life is passed in the -markets or the streets, and as his leisure is devoted to the beer-shop, -the dancing-room, or the theatre, we must look for his habits to his -demeanor at those places. Home has few attractions to a man whose life -is a street-life. Even those who are influenced by family ties and -affections, prefer to "home"--indeed that word is rarely mentioned among -them--the conversation, warmth, and merriment of the beer-shop, where -they can take their ease among their "mates." Excitement or amusement -are indispensable to uneducated men. Of beer-shops resorted to by -costermongers, and principally supported by them, it is computed that -there are 400 in London. - -Those who meet first in the beer-shop talk over the state of trade and -of the markets, while the later comers enter at once into what may be -styled the serious business of the evening--amusement. - -Business topics are discussed in a most peculiar style. One man takes -the pipe from his mouth and says, "Bill made a doogheno[6] hit this -morning." "Jem," says another, to a man just entering, "you'll stand a -top o' reeb?"[7] "On,"[8] answers Jem, "I've had a trosseno tol,[9] and -have been doing dab."[10] If any strangers are present, the conversation -is still further clothed in slang, so as to be unintelligible even to -the partially initiated. The evident puzzlement of any listener is of -course gratifying to the costermonger's vanity for he feels that he -possesses a knowledge peculiarly his own. - -[Footnote 6: First rate.] - -[Footnote 7: Pot of beer.] - -[Footnote 8: No.] - -[Footnote 9: Bad luck.] - -[Footnote 10: Badly.] - -Among the in-door amusements of the costermonger is card-playing, at -which many of them are adepts. The usual games are all-fours, all-fives, -cribbage, and put. Whist is known to a few, but is never played, being -considered dull and slow. Of short whist they have not heard: "But," -said one, whom I questioned on the subject, "if it's come into fashion, -it'll soon be among us." The play is usually for beer, but the game is -rendered exciting by bets both among the players and the lookers-on. -"I'll back Jem for a yanepatine," says one. "Jack for a gen," cries -another. A penny is the lowest sum laid, and five shillings generally -the highest, but a shilling is not often exceeded. "We play fair -among ourselves," said a costermonger to me--"ay, fairer than the -aristocrats--but we'll take in any body else." Where it is known that -the landlord will not supply cards, "a sporting coster" carries a pack -or two with him. The cards played with have rarely been stamped; they -are generally dirty, and sometimes almost illegible, from long handling -and spilled beer. Some men will sit patiently for hours at these games, -and they watch the dealing round of the dingy cards intently, and -without the attempt--common among politer gamesters--to appear -indifferent, though they bear their losses well. In a full room of -card-players, the groups are all shrouded in tobacco-smoke, and from -them are heard constant sounds--according to the games they are engaged -in--of "I'm low, and Ped's high." "Tip and me's game." "Fifteen four and -a flush of five." I may remark it is curious that costermongers, who can -neither read nor write, and who have no knowledge of the multiplication -table, are skillful in all the intricacies and calculations of cribbage. -There is not much quarreling over the cards, unless strangers play with -them, and then the costermongers all take part one with another, fairly -or unfairly. - -It has been said that there is a close resemblance between many of the -characteristics of a very high class, socially, and a very low class. -Those who remember the disclosures on a trial a few years back, as to -how men of rank and wealth passed their leisure in card-playing--many of -their lives being one continued leisure--can judge how far the analogy -holds when the card-passion of the costermongers is described. - -"Shove-halfpenny" is another game played by them; so is "Three-up." -Three halfpennies are thrown up, and when they fall all "heads" or all -"tails," it is a mark; and the man who gets the greatest number of marks -out of a given amount--three, or five, or more--wins. "Three-up" is -played fairly among the costermongers; but is most frequently resorted -to when strangers are present to "make a pitch,"--which is, in plain -words, to cheat any stranger who is rash enough to bet upon them. "This -is the way, sir," said an adept to me; "bless you, I can make them fall -as I please. If I'm playing with Jo, and a stranger bets with Jo, why, -of course I make Jo win." This adept illustrated his skill to me by -throwing up three halfpennies, and, five times out of six they fell upon -the floor, whether he threw them nearly to the ceiling or merely to his -shoulder, all heads or all tails. The halfpence were the proper current -coins--indeed, they were my own; and the result is gained by a peculiar -position of the coins on the fingers, and a peculiar jerk in the -throwing. There was an amusing manifestation of the pride of art in the -way in which my obliging informant displayed his skill. - -"Skittles" is another favorite amusement, and the costermongers class -themselves among the best players in London. The game is always for -beer, but betting goes on. - -A fondness for "sparring" and "boxing" lingers among the rude members of -some classes of the working-men, such as the tanners. With the great -majority of the costermongers this fondness is still as dominant as it -was among the "higher classes," when boxers were the pets of princes and -nobles. The sparring among the costers is not for money, but for beer -and "a lark"--a convenient word covering much mischief. Two out of every -ten landlords, whose houses are patronized by these lovers of "the art -of self-defense," supply gloves. Some charge 2_d._ a night for -their use; others only 1_d._ The sparring seldom continues long, -sometimes not above a quarter of an hour; for the costermongers, though -excited for a while, weary of sports in which they can not personally -participate, and in the beer-shops only two spar at a time, though fifty -or sixty may be present. The shortness of the duration of this pastime -may be one reason why it seldom leads to quarreling. The stake is -usually a "top of reeb," and the winner is the man who gives the first -"noser;" a _bloody_ nose however is required to show that the blow -was veritably a noser. The costermongers boast of their skill in -pugilism as well as at skittles. "We are all handy with our fists," said -one man, "and are matches, ay, and more than matches, for any body but -regular boxers. We've stuck to the ring, too, and gone reg'lar to the -fights, more than any other men." - -"Twopenny-hops" are much resorted to by the costermongers, men and -women, boys and girls. At these dances decorum is sometimes, but not -often, violated. "The women," I was told by one man, "doesn't show their -necks as I've seen the ladies do in them there pictures of high life in -the shop-winders, or on the stage. Their Sunday gowns, which is their -dancing gowns, ain't made that way." At these "hops" the clog-hornpipe -is often danced, and sometimes a collection is made to insure the -performance of a first-rate professor of that dance; sometimes, and more -frequently, it is volunteered gratuitously. The other dances are jigs, -"flash jigs"--hornpipes in fetters--a dance rendered popular by the -success of the acted "Jack Sheppard"--polkas, and country-dances, the -last-mentioned being generally demanded by the women. Waltzes are as yet -unknown to them. Sometimes they do the "pipe-dance." For this a number -of tobacco-pipes, about a dozen, are laid close together on the floor, -and the dancer places the toe of his boot between the different pipes, -keeping time with the music. Two of the pipes are arranged as a cross, -and the toe has to be inserted between each of the angles, without -breaking them. The numbers present at these "hops" vary from 30 to 100 -of both sexes, their ages being from 14 to 45, and the female sex being -slightly predominant as to the proportion of those in attendance. At -these "hops" there is nothing of the leisurely style of dancing--half a -glide and half a skip--but vigorous, laborious capering. The hours are -from half-past eight to twelve, sometimes to one or two in the morning, -and never later than two, as the costermongers are early risers. There -is sometimes a good deal of drinking; some of the young girls being -often pressed to drink, and frequently yielding to the temptation. -From £1 to £7 is spent in drink at a hop; the youngest men or lads -present spend the most, especially in that act of costermonger -politeness--"treating the gals." The music is always a fiddle, sometimes -with the addition of a harp and a cornopean. The band is provided by the -costermongers, to whom the assembly is confined; but during the present -and the last year, when the costers' earnings have been less than the -average, the landlord has provided the harp, whenever that instrument -has added to the charms of the fiddle. - -The other amusements of this class of the -community are the theatre and the penny concert, and their visits are -almost entirely confined to the galleries of the theatres on the -Surrey-side--the Surrey, the Victoria, the Bower Saloon, and (but less -frequently) Astley's. Three times a week is an average attendance at -theatres and dances by the more prosperous costermongers. The most -intelligent man I met with among them gave me the following account. He -classes himself with the many, but his tastes are really those of an -educated man: "Love and murder suits us best, sir; but within these few -years I think there's a great deal more liking for deep tragedies among -us. They set men a-thinking; but then we all consider them too long. Of -_Hamlet_ we can make neither end nor side; and nine out of ten of -us--ay, far more than that--would like it to be confined to the ghost -scenes, and the funeral, and the killing off at the last. _Macbeth_ -would be better liked, if it was only the witches and the fighting. The -high words in a tragedy we call jaw-breakers, and say we can't tumble to -that barrikin. We always stay to the last, because we've paid for it -all, or very few costers would see a tragedy out if any money was -returned to those leaving after two or three acts. We are fond of music. -Nigger music was very much liked among us, but it's stale now. Flash -songs are liked, and sailors' songs, and patriotic songs. Most -costers--indeed, I can't call to mind an exception--listen very quietly -to songs that they don't in the least understand. We have among us -translations of the patriotic French songs. 'Mourir pour la patrie' is -very popular, and so is the 'Marseillaise.' A song to take hold of us -must have a good chorus." "They like something, sir, that is worth -hearing," said one of my informants, "such as the 'Soldier's Dream,' -'The Dream of Napoleon,' or 'I 'ad a dream--an 'appy dream.'" - -The songs in ridicule of Marshal Haynau, and in laudation of Barclay and -Perkins's draymen, were and are very popular among the costers; but none -are more popular than Paul Jones--"A noble commander, Paul Jones was his -name." Among them the chorus of "Britons never shall be slaves," is -often rendered "Britons always shall be slaves." The most popular of all -songs with the class, however, is "Duck-legged Dick," of which I give -the first verse. - - "Duck-legged Dick had a donkey, - And his lush loved much for to swill, - One day he got rather lumpy, - And got sent seven days to the mill. - His donkey was taken to the green-yard, - A fate which he never deserved. - Oh! it was such a regular mean yard, - That alas! the poor moke got starved. - Oh! bad luck can't be prevented, - Fortune she smiles or she frowns, - He's best off that's contented, - To mix, sirs, the ups and the downs." - -Their sports are enjoyed the more, if they are dangerous and require -both courage and dexterity to succeed in them. They prefer, if crossing -a bridge, to climb over the parapet, and walk along on the stone coping. - When a house is building, rows of coster lads will climb up the long -ladders, leaning against the unslated roof, and then slide down again, -each one resting on the other's shoulders. A peep-show with a battle -scene is sure of its coster audience, and a favorite pastime is fighting -with cheap theatrical swords. They are, however, true to each other, and -should a coster, who is the hero of his court, fall ill and go to a -hospital, the whole of the inhabitants of his quarter will visit him on -the Sunday, and take him presents of various articles so that "he may -live well." - -Among the men, rat-killing is a favorite sport. They will enter an old -stable, fasten the door and then turn out the rats. Or they will find -out some unfrequented yard, and at night-time build up a pit with -apple-case boards, and lighting up their lamps, enjoy the sport. Nearly -every coster is fond of dogs. Some fancy them greatly, and are proud of -making them fight. If when out working, they see a handsome stray, -whether he is a "toy" or "sporting" dog, they whip him up--many of the -class not being _very_ particular whether the animals are stray or -not. - -Their dog-fights are both cruel and frequent. It is not uncommon to see -a lad walking with the trembling legs of a dog shivering under a bloody -handkerchief, that covers the bitten and wounded body of an animal that -has been figuring at some "match." These fights take place on the -sly--the tap-room or back-yard of a beer-shop being generally chosen for -the purpose. A few men are let into the secret, and they attend to bet -upon the battle, the police being carefully kept from the spot. - -Pigeons are "fancied" to a large extent, and are kept in lath cages on -the roofs of the houses. The lads look upon a visit to the Red-house, -Battersea, where the pigeon-shooting takes place, as a great treat. They -stand without the boarding that incloses the ground, and watch for the -wounded pigeons to fall, when a violent scramble takes place among them, -each bird being valued at 3_d._ or 4_d._ So popular has this -sport become, that some boys take dogs with them trained to retrieve the -birds, and two Lambeth costers attend regularly after their morning's -work with their guns, to shoot those that escape the "shots" within. - -A good pugilist is looked up to with great admiration by the costers, -and fighting is considered to be a necessary part of a boy's education. -Among them cowardice in any shape is despised as being degrading and -loathsome; indeed the man who would avoid a fight, is scouted by the -whole of the court he lives in. Hence it is important for a lad and even -a girl to know how to "work their fists well"--as expert boxing is -called among them. If a coster man or woman is struck they are obliged -to fight. When a quarrel takes place between two boys, a ring is formed, -and the men urge them on to have it out, for they hold that it is a -wrong thing to stop a battle, as it causes bad blood for life; whereas, -if the lads fight it out they shake hands and forget all about it. -Every body practices fighting, and the man who has the largest and -hardest muscle is spoken of in terms of the highest commendation. It is -often said in admiration of such a man that "he could muzzle half a -dozen bobbies before breakfast." - -To serve out a policeman is the bravest act by which a costermonger can -distinguish himself. Some lads have been imprisoned upward of a dozen -times for this offense; and are consequently looked upon by their -companions as martyrs. When they leave prison for such an act, a -subscription is often got up for their benefit. In their continual -warfare with the force, they resemble many savage nations, from the -cunning and treachery they use. The lads endeavor to take the -unsuspecting "crusher" by surprise, and often crouch at the entrance of -a court till a policeman passes, when a stone or a brick is hurled at -him, and the youngster immediately disappears. Their love of revenge too -is extreme--their hatred being in no way mitigated by time; they will -wait for months, following a policeman who has offended or wronged them, -anxiously looking out for an opportunity of paying back the injury. One -boy, I was told, vowed vengeance against a member of the force, and for -six months never allowed the man to escape his notice. At length, one -night, he saw the policeman in a row outside a public-house, and running -into the crowd kicked him savagely, shouting at the same time: "Now, you -b---- I've got you at last." When the boy heard that his persecutor was -injured for life, his joy was very great, and he declared the -twelvemonth's imprisonment he was sentenced to for the offense to be -"dirt cheap." The whole of the court where the lad resided sympathized -with the boy, and vowed to a man, that had he escaped, they would have -subscribed a pad or two of dry herrings, to send him into the country -until the affair had blown over, for he had shown himself a "plucky -one." - -It is called "plucky" to bear pain without complaining. To flinch from -expected suffering is scorned, and he who does so is sneered at and told -to wear a gown, as being more fit to be a woman. To show a disregard for -pain, a lad, when without money, will say to his pal, "Give us a penny, -and you may have a punch at my nose." They also delight in tattooing -their chests and arms with anchors, and figures of different kinds. -During the whole of this painful operation, the boy will not flinch, but -laugh and joke with his admiring companions, as if perfectly at ease. - - - - -FIVE MINUTES TOO LATE. - - - "Miss not the occasion; by the forelock take - That subtle power--the never-halting time-- - Lest a mere moment's putting off should make - Mischance almost as heavy as a crime!" - -We have just closed a volume of "Wordsworth's Poems," and the motto we -have quoted, and the sonnet following it, recalled certain memories -which have proved suggestive of our present subject. Five minutes too -late! What an awful meaning is conveyed by the last two words of that -brief sentence to the children of time, over whom circumstances and -death have such fearful power! They conjure before our mental vision a -spectral array of consequences from which we shrink: ghosts -of vain hopes, of disappointed expectations, of love closed in death, -move in ghastly procession, and but for certain recollections of a more -enlivening nature--(for sometimes comedy blends even with the deepest -tragedy in this kaleidoscope world of ours!)--we should erase our title, -and choose another theme. Let it not alarm the reader, however, by the -apparent threat it holds out of a homily upon the evils of -procrastination. We mean to bestow no such tediousness upon his worship, -deeming that the "golden-lipped" saint himself would prove powerless to -exorcise that most pertinacious of demons when he has once taken -possession of any human soul. No; we intend simply to give a few -instances of the singular, fatal, or ludicrous effects which the loss or -delay of five minutes has caused, leaving Wordsworth's motto to point -the moral of our gossiping. - -The first, and one of the most painful of these our "modern instances," -was very recently related to us by the son of him whose fortunes were -changed, and finally his fate sealed, by the unheeded flitting of those -few sands of time, and whose family are still sufferers from this -apparent trifle. The momentous five minutes to which we allude were a -portion of one of the most glorious periods that ever dial or -hourglass marked--that in which the Trafalgar victory was won, and -Nelson lost. Among the gallant fleet which on that day roused the echoes -of the hills of Spain, was a certain cutter commanded by a young -lieutenant, who, possessing no naval interest, hoped for advancement -only from his own gallantry and good conduct; and little doubt was there -that either would prove lacking in his case. Memories of the fair wife -and dear babe whose fortunes were, in the expressive language of the -East, "bound up in the bundle of his life," awoke every energy of his -nature, and gave (for him) a double and inspiring meaning to that -celebrated signal, the simple majesty of which still thrills the heart -of all who owe homage to the name of our country--"England expects every -man to do his duty." When the fight began, our young lieutenant did his -duty gallantly; the "angel opportunity" was lacking for any very -memorable achievement, but in that scene of unrivaled valor and -exertion, the eye of the great commander marked the conduct of the -gallant little cutter, and he noticed it to "Hardy." Had he lived, the -fortune of the young officer would have been assured; but the life which -then "set in bloody glory" bore with it the hopes of many a brave -mariner "into the dim oblivion!" - -It is well known that the fleet which achieved this victory had, during -the succeeding night and day, to contend with the fury of the elements; -many ships dismasted in the battle, all shattered, and in numerous cases -without an anchor to let go. It was while the storm was still raging -that Lord Collingwood made a signal to the ---- cutter to send a boat -for the dispatches which were to be conveyed to England. The office -intended for her commander was a favor, as the harbinger of such -intelligence was certain of promotion; but, alas! our young lieutenant, -engrossed by the present scene, and excited by the recent march of -events, was not heeding the signal of the _Euryalus_, and it had -been flying five minutes before it was reported to him. _Then_ he -hurried to obey the mandate--too late! Another had seen the summons, and -preceded him, deeming that the state of the cutter must be the cause of -her commander's delay. As her boat came alongside the _Euryalus_, -that of his successful rival--if I may so style him--pushed off, and the -officers exchanged greetings. Poor Y---- at that moment bade farewell to -the flood-tide of his fortunes! The admiral accepted his excuses, and -regretted that he had not arrived in time, giving him the only charge -remaining in his power to bestow--duplicates of the dispatches--and with -these he took his homeward course: but the lost five minutes had wrecked -his hopes. His predecessor arrived safely, received promotion, and is -now, or was very recently, an admiral, while the hero of our story -obtained only a sword in commemoration of his bravery; and at the close -of the war, was thrown aside, with many a gallant comrade, to waste the -remainder of his life in oblivion and neglect. The disappointment of his -hopes affected him deeply; the more so as his family increased, and his -means of supporting and providing for them were small. What profound -regret darkened the vision of Trafalgar when it recurred to the old -officer's memory! He was sometimes heard to say, with a playful mockery -of his own ill-fortune, "that he had grown prematurely bald from the -number of young men who had _walked over his head_;" but there was -a pathos in the very jest. By a marvelous coincidence, his life was -closed, as its prospects had been blighted, by the fatal five minutes -too late. He was engaged to dine with an old brother-officer--one who -hated to be kept waiting for his dinner--and by some accident, it was -five minutes after the appointed time when he left his house to proceed -to his Amphitryon's. In his anxiety to redeem the lost time, he hurried -up the hill he was compelled to ascend at a pace little befitting his -age and infirmities--for he suffered from a complaint of the -heart--reached the dining-room "again five minutes too late," as he -remarked himself, in allusion to the unseen signal, was taken ill from -the exertion, carried home, and died. "The tide" of life as well as of -fortune had for him "passed the flood!" - -The colors of this kaleidoscope vision are of the darkest and saddest; -let us shake the instrument and vary the combinations, and lo an Indian -bungalow rises before us seated on a mountain height; and many busy -forms are moving near and about it, for the lady who dwells there is -about to join a party of friends traveling to the island presidency -below. Her husband's regiment has been recently hurried to the seat of -war, and she can no longer dwell upon the wide and pleasant plains of -the Deccan; moreover, the monsoon is ended, and the hot winds of the -season are beginning to penetrate the screens. And now the ayah hastens -her lady's preparations, by the information that the party of travelers -are waiting in their palanquins without; but the "Ma'am Sahib" is a -confirmed procrastinator, and so much has been left till this last -moment unprepared and undone, that she can not obey the summons. The -climate is not favorable to patience; besides, there is a "tide" to be -caught at the next _bunder_, and _it_, proverbially, will wait -for no one; therefore, with some few apologies, the party moved on, -expressing their assurance that Mrs. T---- would soon overtake them. She -was of the same opinion, and bore their desertion very philosophically, -insisting even on not detaining a gentleman of the group, who would fain -have waited her leisure. As she entered her palanquin, she observed to -her ayah--the only servant who accompanied her--that she had been, -"after all, only five minutes too late." The "God's image carved in -ebony," as Fuller calls the dark sisterhood of our race, showed her -ivory teeth good-humoredly in assent, and retired to take possession of -her own conveyance, in which she was ordered to follow closely that of -her mistress, deeming the loss of time of as little moment as the lady -did. The hamals then began their labors, and the first portion of the -descent was achieved pleasantly and safely. Seated in her coffin-like -carriage, Mrs. T---- looked forth on a scene of almost unrivaled beauty, -every turn of the mountain pathway varying its character and increasing -its loveliness. Revived by the recent heavy rains, the trees and herbage -wore a green as vivid as if they were never scorched by the burning -kisses of an Eastern sun; gay wild-flowers peeped out from the long -grass of the jungle; and tiny waterfalls danced and sported down the -mountains' sides to their own liquid music: the tramp of the bearers, -the monotonous chant into which they occasionally broke, even the shrill -cry of the green parrot, had all a charm for the fair lady traveler; and -she forgot the "five minutes too late" which had separated her from her -companions, and the fact that there was still no appearance of rejoining -them. The latter recollection had, however, occurred to her bearers, and -gradually, though their burden marked it not, they slackened their pace, -and held low conference among themselves. The ayah's palanquin was far -behind, the travelers who preceded them far before; the road was -solitary, the jungle deep and secret as the grave; the lady known to be -rich in jewels, if not in gold and rupees. - -Evening was closing in: day fades rapidly in the East, and the brief -twilight is as solemn as it is soft and short. The hamals' steps fell -slower and slower; and at last a vague fear awoke in the lady's mind, to -which the gradually deepening gloom added force. She was imaginative, -and she fancied the pretty water-jets grew larger, and foamed, and took -a spectral form, like the mischievous uncle of "Undine," and that the -dark figures of the relay of hamals, running by the side of the -palanquin, grew taller, and more fiendish-looking: she began to "see -their visage" less "in their mind" than in its natural color and swart -ugliness, and bitterly repented having been five minutes too late. A -regret, alas! _too late_ also; for suddenly her palanquin was set -upon the ground, and eight shadowy forms gathered round the door, with -glittering eyes and looks from which she shrank, while one in brief -phrase desired her to give him her jewel-case and her money. The request -was not instantly granted. The Scotswoman was courageous, and -represented to her false guides that they could neither rob nor injure a -woman of her race with impunity. In answer, one fellow pointed to the -deep jungle, and made an expressive sign at the back of his own throat. -She saw that it would be vain to refuse, and delivered the small box she -had with her, and her money. They received it silently; and sitting down -in her sight, coolly examined and divided their spoil. Then came a -fearful pause. They looked toward the palanquin; they were evidently -consulting as to what they should do with her. Never could she afterward -forget the feeling with which her gaze encountered those terrible black -eyes! the agony of suspense was more than she could bear; and as they -rose simultaneously, she buried her face in her hands, and in a short, -almost wordless prayer, commended her soul to her Creator. At the same -instant a frightful roar, echoed by a thrilling scream, or rather yell, -burst on her ear. She looked up, and beheld her foes scattered on all -sides, pursued by a tiger, to whose remorseless thirst one had evidently -fallen a prey, for faint from the distance came a cry of mortal agony. -She was saved! The five minutes they had loitered over their spoil had, -through the mercy of a good Providence, made crime too late to be -consummated. She sat there alone, wonderfully preserved, but still in an -awful situation for a female, since night was gathering round her, and -the lair of the wild beast so near! Her heart beat audibly, when -suddenly the stillness was broken by a familiar and blessed sound: "Auld -Lang-syne," played on her native bagpipes, stole on the silence of the -evening, and, relieved from a weight of terror--from the fear of death -itself--she shed large heavy tears as the clear music approached her. A -Highland regiment was on its night march back to the Presidency, and -either its approach had been perceived by the robbers who had escaped -the tiger, and thus prevented their return to their victim, or their -superstitious terror at the jungle tyrant had kept them from the spot. -In a few minutes some of the Highland officers were beside the -palanquin, listening indignantly to the lady's story, and offering her -every assistance in their power. She was a good horsewoman, and the -adjutant resigned his steed to her. Her jewels and money, found -scattered on the road, were collected and given in charge to a -Highlander, and she was escorted in safety by the gallant 7-th to the -bunder, from whence she could embark for Bombay. If any thing could cure -procrastination, the effects of such a "five minutes too late" might be -expected to perform it; but, as we have said, we have no faith in even -so severe a remedy, and we doubt if pretty Mrs. T---- has ever put her -bonnet on the quicker since her adventure on the Kandallah Ghauts. - -And now, looking back into our very early childhood, we can see a neat, -quiet-looking old lady, on whose fate our ominous title had as important -a result. She was the widow of a merchant-ship captain, who had left her -a comfortable independence, and the care of a boy nephew--his only -sister's son--a fine lad destined for the sea. The pair lived in an -old-fashioned house in one of the old, narrow, dull, but respectable -streets of Portsea, and were introduced to our notice by the necessity -of applying to Mrs. Martin, or, as she called herself, Mrs. -Mar_ting_, for the character of a servant. Inquiries touching the -damsel's capabilities had been made by letter, but the reply was by no -means as clear as could be desired; for the old lady was a very "queen -of the dictionary," and played so despotically with words, and the -letters which form them, that the only part of her reply at all -intelligible to my mother was a kindly-expressed hope that "Susan Olding -would _shoot_ her!" We supposed she meant _suit_; but to make -assurance doubly sure, mamma called on her, and took us children with -her. It was about Christmas-time, and we remember distinctly how nice -and _cosy_ we thought the quaint-looking old parlor into which we -were ushered. The fireplace was formed of Dutch tiles, commemorative of -a whole Bible biography: a large closet, with glass doors, exhibited to -our childish peeping a quantity of valuable old china. There was a -harpsichord--the only one we ever saw--open in the room. Round the walls -hung pieces of embroidery framed, the subjects being taken from the -"Faerie Queen;" and above each shone the glittering leaves and scarlet -berries of a holly sprig. A bright fire blazed on the hearth; and by the -side of it, in an imposing-looking arm-chair, sat the mistress of the -dwelling knitting--a pretty woman even in advancing years, with a kind, -happy expression of countenance, that one would have felt grieved to see -overshadowed by a care. - -From that time we became acquaintances of good Mrs. Martin. She met us -in our walks; sometimes took us into her house to give us a piece of -seed-cake and a glass of home-made wine; and finally, invited us -occasionally to drink tea with her. We enjoyed those evenings -exceedingly; she was so kind, and good-natured, and so ready to enter -into all our games, in which we had also a blithe comrade in the young -man her nephew, who had just returned from sea. He would play with us -till we were tired, and then seating us round the blazing fire, would -entertain us, Othello-like, with his adventures, and those of his -messmates, till we held our breath to listen. A very fine seaman-like -youth was Harry Darling the midshipman, and very proud his aunt was of -him. In truth she had good cause to rejoice in her affection for him, as -the incident we have to relate will prove. When Harry first went to sea, -his adopted mother felt, as she expressed it, "very _dissolute_" -(desolate?) in her deserted house, and sought refuge from her anxious -thoughts by frequenting oftener the tea-tables of her neighbors, among -whom her cheerful temper, to say nothing of her comfortable income and -hospitality, made her very popular. At the house of one of the most -intimate of her gossips, the worthy widow was in the habit of meeting, -and of being partner at whist, with a tall gentleman wearing a mustache, -and distinguished by the title of "Count." Now, if Mrs. Martin had a -weakness, it was her love for "great people," as she phrased it; many of -whose privileges were the especial objects of her envy, especially the -mournful one of a funeral exhibition of heraldic honors. She always -regretted that she had not been able to hang out "a hatchet" for her -poor dear departed Mar_ting_. Now, as she never dreamed, dear guileless -old body, of any one assuming a dignity not justly appertaining to them, -and had no conception of the exact standard of national rank, a foreign -count with a mustache like a Life Guardsman was as imposing a personage -in her estimation as an ancient English "Thane," and she treated his -countship with all possible respect and attention, considering it a high -honor when he favored her neat dwelling with a visit, and drank tea out -of her best china. She always called him "my lord," and "your lordship," -and sympathized deeply in the cruel reverses to which the Revolution had -subjected him, never wearying of hearing descriptions of his "cha_too_," -and of his hotel in Paris, though it long continued a mystery to her how -a nobleman with such a fortune could have liked to keep a _hotel_, a -difficulty she had at last solved by ascribing it to foreign manners. -But the count became daily more intimate at her house, telling her long -stories over the winter fire, or while partaking of the meal she called, -in compliment to him, her "petty soupey," and gradually the usual -consequences of such story-telling ensued. The unfortunate noble -proposed to Mrs. Martin, and, quite flattered and dazzled by the honor, -the widow consented to become Madame la Comtesse. His lady-love's assent -once obtained, the Frenchman was eager for the immediate celebration of -their nuptials; but Mrs. Martin insisted on waiting till her dear Harry -came home from sea, his ship being daily expected. The bridegroom -shrugged an unwilling assent, and consoled himself by dining -occasionally, as well as drinking tea, with his lady-love. - -At length the battery and guard-ship guns of Portsmouth greeted the -expected frigate, and the next day Harry Darling embraced his aunt, and -learned from her with much surprise, and a little vexation, that she was -about to marry "a member of the French House of Lords!" The boy had -already seen enough of the world to take a very different view of the -proposed exaltation, and to have serious fears for his kinswoman's -happiness in a union with one whom he, at first sight, pronounced an -adventurer; but on hinting his suspicions to her, the good lady for the -first time grew angry with him, ascribing his observations to a selfish -regard for his own interest, and Harry finding remonstrance vain, was -fain to yield a sad consent to be present at the ceremony in a week's -time. - -The wedding-day arrived. The ceremony was to be performed at a little -village church at some distance, and the carriages destined to convey -the bridal party were ordered at an early hour. The bride, handsomely -attired, and the bridegroom in the dignity of an entire new suit, were -waiting, attended by their friends, in the parlor we have described, for -the appearance of Harry, who had been unable to get leave till the -eventful morning, but had promised to be there in time. There is nothing -more calculated to throw a gloom over persons assembled for some festive -or momentous occasion, than the having to wait for an expected guest. -The gossips assembled in Mrs. Martin's room had met with gay smiles and -pleasant congratulations, but as minute after minute stole away, and no -Harry Darling appeared, the conversation sank into silence, and the -company looked grave and tired. The count became impatient, and urged -his betrothed not to delay longer, as circumstances might have occurred -to prevent "Monsieur Darling" from leaving his ship; but the widow was -not to be persuaded. She loved Harry with all the warmth of her -affectionate nature. She had never known him break his promise; if he -did not come, he must, "she was sure, be ill, or he might even have -fallen overboard, and could the count think her such an inhuman monster -as to go to be married while the dear child's fate was doubtful?" The -gentleman internally wished "the dear child" at the bottom of Spithead, -but he dared not dispute the will of his despotic widow, and they waited -another quarter of an hour, when, to the joy of all, the missing Harry -sprang across the threshold, releasing the "wedding guests" from their -thralldom to a nameless kind of discomfort, and his aunt from her -nervous fears. - -With all speed the party then drove off, and proceeded at a brisk pace -to the village church; but even as the tall spire rose in sight above -the leafy elms, the clock struck the hour of noon. The bridal party -exchanged looks: after twelve, it is not possible to be married in -England without a special license. But the bride's attendant suggested -that as it could not be more than five minutes after the time, the -rector might be induced to overlook the rule, and they alighted and -entered the church. Only the sexton was visible, in the act of closing -the doors. He told them that the Rev. Mr. Bunbury, after waiting for -them till noon, had just ridden off to attend a clerical meeting at some -distance; but that even had he been at home, it would have been quite -impossible for him to have performed the ceremony after the appointed -hour. They were therefore compelled to return unmarried, and Harry -received a gentle chiding from his aunt for the confusion he had -occasioned, which, however, he asserted was not his fault, but that of -the first lieutenant, who had detained him. To atone in some measure for -the disappointment to her friends, Mrs. Martin invited them all to dine -with her at six, and to accompany her on a similar expedition on the -morrow. The invitation was accepted, and the count forgot his -disappointment over a plate of turtle-soup, and indulged in delightful -anticipations of the next morning which was to render him - - "Monarch of all he surveyed." - -Alas, there is many a slip between the cup and the lip! A five minutes -too late is no such trifling matter. It was even while wit and champagne -were at their height, that a knock at the street door disturbed the -jovial company, and was followed by the announcement of "a lady who -wished to speak to Monsieur de Fierville." Mrs. Martin, eager to please -the man she delighted to honor, bade the servant usher the lady in, and -a scene of confusion followed which may rather be imagined than -described. It was no less a personage than the Madame de Fierville -herself--the true and living wife of the deceitful lover--who had at -length, as she informed them, been able to dispose advantageously of her -business as a _modiste_, and had followed her husband to England, -trusting she should find him established, according to his intention, as -a hairdresser in the good town of Portsea. On reaching his lodgings, -however--for she had, after some difficulty, succeeded in tracing -him--she learned from the mistress of the house that he had taken to -himself the title of his former master--he had been valet to Count -F----, and an English wife, and she had come to the home of the latter -to exact justice or revenge. "The count" was no match for his vehement -and enraged wife, and could not deny the authenticity of the -testimonials of the truth of her statement, which she produced. He was -hurried, at rather uncivil speed, from the house by the enraged Harry -Darling, and was followed thence by the angry and garrulous Frenchwoman; -while Mrs. Martin had a gentle hysteric--nothing could greatly disturb -the equanimity of her temper--and sinking on her nephew's shoulder, -murmured in broken sobs her thanks to Providence, and, under Providence, -to him, "that from being five minutes too late she had escaped being -made an accomplice in the crime of _burglary_!" - -We must turn from Mrs. Mar_ting_--her love passages and her -blunders--to an incident in which the words of our motto were most -pathetically and fatally exemplified-- - - "A moment's putting off has made - Mischance as heavy as a crime." - -The actors, or rather sufferers, of the story were a twin brother and -sister, orphans, and dependent on the bounty of a near kinswoman, who, -being of the Romish persuasion, had educated the girl in the doctrines -of her own faith, although, in compliance with the dying wish of her -widowed sister, the boy was suffered to retain that of his country and -his father. But this difference of creeds proved the cause of no -diminution of affection between the children, whose love for each other -equaled or surpassed those loves which Scripture and poetry have made -immortal. They were ever to be seen hand-in-hand; the one had no -pleasure the other did not partake; their playthings, books, thoughts, -joys, and infantine sorrows were shared invariably; and as the boy was -educated at home, they were never separated till John had attained his -seventeenth year, when his aunt's interest procured him a cadetship, and -he was obliged to leave Mary in order to join his regiment in India. It -was a terrible separation in those days, when the subjected elements -"yoked to man's iron car" had not, as in the present day, nearly -fulfilled the modest wish of Dryden's lovers, and - - "Annihilated time and space!" - -The twins were heartbroken at the idea of parting; but John consoled his -sister by the promise of sending for her as soon as he had an Indian -home to offer her; and Mary pleaded "that it might be soon, no matter -how humble that home might be!" And he assented to all her wishes, and -pledged his word never to miss an opportunity of writing to her. - -Letters from the East were then few and far between; and when received, -brought in their very date a painful reminder of the time that had -elapsed since the beloved hand had traced them, and a fear of all that -might have chanced since their old news was written. But they were the -chief comfort of Mary Murray-- - - "When seas between them broad had rolled," - -and for days after the arrival of one, her step would fall more lightly, -and her voice take a happier tone. After the departure of her nephew, -Mrs. Jermyn removed with her niece to France. Her means were straitened, -and she could live more economically on the Continent; and there, after -the lapse of some few years, she died, leaving Mary Murray all her -little property, and advising her to join her brother in India as soon -as she conveniently could, but to remain as boarder in a convent till -arrangements to that effect could be made. The poor girl obeyed the -wishes of her last and only friend, and became for a time the inmate of -a cloister; but her thoughts and wishes all tended to the East, and she -longed for the arrival of her brother's next letter--the answer to that -in which she had made him aware of her loss, and of her wish to go to -him. The mail arrived; there was no letter for _her_, but it brought -news of an engagement in which John Murray's regiment had fought bravely -and suffered much. His name was not in the list of killed or wounded, -but he was reported "missing," probably a prisoner to the enemy, or -drowned in the river, on the banks of which the contest had taken place. -The grief of her, who had no other tie of love in the world may be -imagined; it could scarcely be described. Nevertheless she was young, -and the young are generally sanguine. Almost without her being conscious -of it, she still cherished a hope that he might be restored to her; but -months rolled on, and brought no tidings. Then it was that, sick at -heart, and weary even of the hope that was so constantly disappointed, -her thoughts turned to the cloister as a refuge from her lonely sorrow. -She had no object of interest beyond the walls; the nuns were kind and -good; the duties of the convent such as she loved to fulfill. She took -the white vail, and at the end of the year's novitiate, the black. The -service of final dedication had begun, when a stranger arrived at the -convent gate, and requested to see Miss Murray on business of -importance. He was desired by the porteress to wait till the ceremony, -which had commenced about five minutes previously, was ended; and -ignorant of the name of the nun who was making her profession, he of -course consented to the request. In about an hour's time, a young -figure, robed in black, and vailed, stood at the grate to ask his -business with her. He uttered an exclamation of alarm and consternation -when he perceived Miss Murray in the dress of a nun. Then recovering -himself he informed her, as cautiously as his surprise permitted, that -he had come from her brother, who had been made prisoner, and was now -restored to his regiment, after having endured much, and met with a -number of adventures, of which a letter he then offered her would give -her a full account. It ought, he acknowledged, to have been delivered a -day or two earlier, but he had been much engaged since his arrival in -Paris, and had forgotten it till that morning, when, ashamed and sorry -for his neglect, he had proceeded at an early hour to the convent. Mary -Murray heard him with a pale cheek and quivering lip, and as she took -the letter from his hand, murmured, "You came five minutes too late, -sir! and to that lost time my brother's happiness and mine have been -sacrificed. I am a nun now--as dead to him as if the grave had closed -above me!" The young messenger was overwhelmed with regret as vain as it -was agonizing. Miss Murray kindly endeavored to console him, but on -herself the blow fell heavily. She was never seen to smile from that -day; and in less than a year after, the nuns of St. Agnes followed their -young sister to the grave. Most fitly might the beautiful epitaph in the -church of Santa Croce have been graven beneath the holy sign her -tombstone bore: - - "Ne la plaignez pas! Si vous saviez - Combien de peines ce tombeau l'a épargné!" - -The brother grieved deeply for a while, but the stream of the world bore -him onward, and its waters are the true Lethe for ordinary and even -extraordinary sorrow. He married, and years afterward returned to -England with his wife and family; and then the memory of his sister Mary -returned vividly and painfully to his mind, and, as a warning to his -children, he told them the story of her enduring affection, and of -_the fatal five minutes too late_! - - - - -VISIT TO A COPPER-MINE.[11] - - -[Footnote 11: From "Rambles beyond Railways," by W. WILKIE COLLINS.] - -We left the Land's End, feeling that our homeward journey had now begun -from that point; and, walking northward, about five miles along the -coast, arrived at Botallack, which contains the most extraordinary -copper-mine in Cornwall. Having heard that there was some disinclination -in Cornwall to allow strangers to go down the mines, we had provided -ourselves, through the kindness of a friend, with a proper letter of -introduction, in case of emergency. We were told to go to the -counting-house to present our credentials; and on our road thither, -beheld the buildings and machinery of the mine, literally stretching -down the precipitous face of the cliff, from the land at the top, to the -sea at the bottom. - -This sight was striking and extraordinary. Here, we beheld a scaffolding -perched on a rock that rose out of the waves--there, a steam-pump was at -work raising gallons of water from the mine every minute, on a mere -ledge of land, half-way down the steep-cliff side. Chains, pipes, -conduits, protruded in all directions from the precipice; rotten-looking -wooden platforms, running over deep chasms, supported great beams of -timber and heavy coils of cable; crazy little boarded-houses were built, -where gulls' nests might have been found in other places. There did not -appear to be a foot of level space anywhere, for any part of the works -of the mine to stand upon; and yet, there they were, fulfilling all the -purposes for which they had been constructed, as safely and completely -on rocks in the sea, and down precipices on the land, as if they had -been cautiously founded on the tracts of smooth, solid ground above! - -The counting-house was built on a projection of earth about midway -between the top of the cliff and the sea. When we got there, the agent, -to whom our letter was addressed, was absent; but his place was supplied -by two miners, who came out to receive us; and to one of them we -mentioned our recommendation, and modestly hinted a wish to go down the -mine forthwith. - -But our new friend was not a person who did any thing in a hurry. He was -a grave, courteous, and rather melancholy man, of great stature -and strength. He looked on us with a benevolent, paternal expression, -and appeared to think that we were nothing like strong enough, or -cautious enough, to be trusted down the mine. "Did we know," he urged, -"that it was dangerous work?" "Yes; but we didn't mind danger!" "Perhaps -we were not aware that we should perspire profusely, and be dead-tired -getting up and down the ladders?" "Very likely; but we didn't mind that, -either!" "Surely we shouldn't like to strip, and put on miners' -clothes?" "Yes, we should, of all things!" and, pulling off coat, -waistcoat, and trowsers, on the spot, we stood half-undressed already, -just as the big miner was proposing another objection, which, under -existing circumstances, he good-naturedly changed into a speech of -acquiescence. "Very well, gentlemen," said he, taking up two suits of -miners' clothes; "I see you are determined to go down; and so you shall! -You'll be wet through with the heat and the work before you come up -again; so just put on these things, and keep your own clothes dry." - -The clothing consisted of a flannel shirt, flannel drawers, canvas -trowsers, and a canvas jacket--all stained of a tawny copper color; but -all quite clean. A white night-cap and a round hat, composed of some -iron-hard substance, well calculated to protect the head from any loose -stones that might fall on it, completed the equipment; to which, three -tallow-candles were afterward added--two to hang at the button-hole, -one to carry in the hand. - -My friend was dressed first. He had got a suit which fitted him -tolerably, and which, as far as appearances went, made a regular miner -of him at once. Far different was my case. - -The same mysterious dispensation of fate, which always awards tall wives -to short men, decreed that a suit of the big miner's should be reserved -for me. He stood six feet two inches--I stand five feet six inches. I -put on his flannel shirt--it fell down to my toes, like a bed-gown; his -drawers--and they flowed in Turkish luxuriance over my feet. At his -trowsers I helplessly stopped short, lost in the voluminous recesses of -each leg. The big miner, like a good Samaritan as he was, came to my -assistance. He put the pocket-button through the waist button-hole, to -keep the trowsers up, in the first instance; then, he "hauled taut" the -braces (as sailors say), until my waistband was under my armpits; and -then he pronounced that I and my trowsers fitted each other in great -perfection. The cuffs of the jacket were next turned up to my -elbows--the white nightcap was dragged over my ears--the round hat was -jammed down over my eyes. When I add to all this, that I am so -near-sighted as to be obliged to wear spectacles, and that I finished my -toilet by putting my spectacles on (knowing that I should see little or -nothing without them), nobody, I think, will be astonished to hear that -my companion seized his sketch-book, and caricatured me on the spot; and -that the grave miner, polite as he was, shook with internal laughter, as -I took up my tallow-candles and reported myself ready for a descent into -the mine. - -We left the counting-house, and ascended the face of the cliff. Then, -walked a short distance along the edge, descended a little again, and -stopped at a wooden platform built across a deep gully. Here, the miner -pulled up a trap-door, and disclosed a perpendicular ladder leading down -to a black hole, like the opening of a chimney. "This is the shaft; I -will go down first, to catch you, in case you tumble; follow me, and -hold tight!" Saying this, our friend squeezed himself through the -trap-door, and we went after him as we had been bidden. - -The black hole, when we entered it, proved to be not quite so dark as it -had appeared from above. Rays of light occasionally penetrated it -through chinks in the outer rock. But, by the time we had got some -little way further down, these rays began to fade. Then, just as we -seemed to be lowering ourselves into total darkness, we were desired to -stand on a narrow landing-place opposite the ladder, and wait there -while the miner went below for a light. He soon reascended to us, -bringing not only the light he had promised, but a large lump of damp -clay with it. Having lighted our candles, he stuck them against the -front of our hats with the clay, in order, as he said, to leave both our -hands free to us to use as we liked. Thus strangely accoutred, like -Solomon Eagles in the Great Plague, with flame on our heads, we resumed -the descent of the shaft; and now, at last, began to penetrate beneath -the surface of the earth in good earnest. - -The process of getting down the ladders was not very pleasant. They were -all quite perpendicular, the rounds were placed at irregular distances, -were many of them much worn away, and were slippery with water and -copper-ooze. Add to this, the narrowness of the shaft, the dripping-wet -rock shutting you in, as it were, all round your back and sides against -the ladder--the fathomless-looking darkness beneath--the light flaring -immediately above you, as if your head was on fire--the voice of the -miner below, rumbling away in dull echoes lower and lower into the -bowels of the earth--the consciousness that if the rounds of the ladder -broke, you might fall down a thousand feet or so of narrow tunnel in a -moment--imagine all this, and you may easily realize what are the first -impressions produced by a descent into a Cornish mine. - -By the time we had got down seventy fathoms, or four hundred and twenty -feet of ladders, we stopped at another landing-place, just broad enough -to afford standing-room for us three. Here, the miner, pointing to an -opening yawning horizontally in the rock at one side of us, said that -this was the first gallery from the surface; that we had done with the -ladders for the present; and that a little climbing and crawling were -now to begin. - -Our path was a strange one, as we advanced -through the rift. Rough stones of all sizes, holes here, and eminences -there, impeded us at every yard. Sometimes, we could walk on in a -stooping position--sometimes, we were obliged to crawl on our hands and -knees. Occasionally, greater difficulties than these presented -themselves. Certain parts of the gallery dipped into black, ugly-looking -pits, crossed by thin planks, over which we walked dizzily, a little -bewildered by the violent contrast between the flaring light that we -carried above us, and the pitch-darkness beneath and before us. One of -these places terminated in a sudden rising in the rock, hollowed away -below, but surmounted by a narrow, projecting wooden platform, to which -it was necessary to climb by cross-beams arranged at wide distances. My -companion ascended to this awkward elevation without hesitating; but I -came to an "awful pause" before it. Fettered as I was by my Brobdignag -jacket and trowsers, I felt a humiliating consciousness that any -extraordinary gymnastic exertion was altogether out of my power. - -Our friend, the miner, saw my difficulty, and extricated me from it at -once, with a promptitude and skill which deserves record. Descending -half way by the beams, he clutched with one hand that hinder part of my -too voluminous nether garments, which presented the broadest superficies -of canvas to his grasp (I hope the delicate reader appreciates the -ingenious cleanliness of my periphrasis, when I mention in detail so -coarse a subject as trowsers!). Having grappled me thus, he lifted me up -in an instant, as easily as a small parcel; then carried me horizontally -along the loose boards, like a refractory little boy borne off by the -usher to the master's birch; or, considering the candle burning on my -hat, and the necessity of elevating my position by as lofty a comparison -as I can make--like a flying Mercury with a star on his head; and -finally deposited me safely upon my legs again, on the firm rock pathway -beyond. "You are but a light and a little man, my son!" says this -excellent fellow, snuffing my candle for me before we go on; "only let -me lift you about as I like, and you shan't come to any harm while I am -with you!" - -Speaking thus, the miner leads us forward again. After we have walked a -little further in a crouching position, he calls a halt, makes a seat -for us by sticking a piece of old board between the rocky walls of the -gallery, and then proceeds to explain the exact subterranean position -which we actually occupy. - -We are now four hundred yards out, _under the bottom of the sea_; -and twenty fathoms, or a hundred and twenty feet, below the sea level. -Coast-trade vessels are sailing over our heads. Two hundred and forty -feet beneath us men are at work, and there are galleries deeper yet, -even below that! The extraordinary position down the face of the cliff, -of the engines and other works on the surface, at Botallack, is now -explained. The mine is not excavated like other mines under the land, -but under the sea! - -Having communicated these particulars, the miner next tells us to keep -strict silence and listen. We obey him, sitting speechless and -motionless. If the reader could only have beheld us now, dressed in our -copper-colored garments, huddled close together in a mere cleft of -subterranean rock, with flame burning on our heads, and darkness -enveloping our limbs--he must certainly have imagined, without any -violent stretch of fancy, that he was looking down upon a conclave of -gnomes! - -After listening for a few moments, a distant, unearthly noise becomes -faintly audible--a long, low, mysterious moaning, that never changes, -that is _felt_ on the ear as well as _heard_ by it--a sound -that might proceed from some incalculable distance--from some far -invisible height--a sound unlike any thing that is heard on the upper -ground, in the free air of heaven--a sound so sublimely mournful and -still, so ghostly and impressive when listened to in the subterranean -recesses of the earth, that we continue instinctively to hold our peace, -as if enchanted by it, and think not of communicating to each other the -strange awe and astonishment which it has inspired in us both from the -very first. - -At last, the miner speaks again, and tells us that what we hear is the -sound of the surf lashing the rocks a hundred and twenty feet above us, -and of the waves that are breaking on the beach beyond. The tide is now -at the flow, and the sea is in no extraordinary state of agitation: so -the sound is low and distant just at this period. But, when storms are -at their height, when the ocean hurls mountain after mountain of water -on the cliffs, then the noise is terrific; the roaring heard down here -in the mine is so inexpressibly fierce and awful, that the boldest men -at work are afraid to continue their labor--all ascend to the surface to -breathe the upper air and stand on the firm earth; dreading, though no -such catastrophe has ever happened yet, that the sea will break in on -them if they remain in the caverns below. - -Hearing this, we get up to look at the rock above us. We are able to -stand upright in the position we now occupy; and flaring our candles -hither and thither in the darkness, can see the bright pure copper -streaking the dark ceiling of the gallery in every direction. Lumps of -ooze, of the most lustrous green color, traversed by a natural network -of thin red veins of iron, appear here and there in large irregular -patches, over which water is dripping slowly and incessantly in certain -places. This is the salt water percolating through invisible crannies in -the rock. On stormy days it spirts out furiously in thin, continuous -streams. Just over our heads we observe a wooden plug of the thickness -of a man's leg; there is a hole here, and the plug is all that we have -to keep out the sea. - -Immense wealth of metal is contained in the roof of this gallery, -throughout its whole length; but it remains, and will always remain, -untouched; the miners dare not take it, for it is part, and a great -part, of the rock which forms their only protection against the sea; and -which has been so far worked away here, that its thickness is limited to -an average of three feet only between the water and the gallery in which -we now stand. No one knows what might be the consequence of another -day's labor with the pickax on any part of it. - -This information is rather startling when communicated at a depth of -four hundred and twenty feet under ground. We should decidedly have -preferred to receive it in the counting-house! It makes us pause for an -instant, to the miner's infinite amusement, in the very act of knocking -away about an inch of ore from the rock, as a memento of Botallack. -Having, however, ventured, on reflection, to assume the responsibility -of weakening our defense against the sea by the length and breadth of an -inch, we secure our piece of copper, and next proceed to discuss the -propriety of descending two hundred and forty feet more of ladders, for -the sake of visiting that part of the mine where the men are at work. - -Two or three causes concur to make us doubt the wisdom of going lower. -There is a hot, moist, sickly vapor floating about us, which becomes -more oppressive every moment; we are already perspiring at every pore, -as we were told we should, and our hands, faces, jackets, and trowsers, -are all more or less covered with a mixture of mud, tallow, and -iron-drippings, which we can feel and smell much more accurately than is -exactly desirable. We ask the miner what there is to see lower down. He -replies, nothing but men breaking ore with pickaxes; the galleries of -the mine are alike, however deep they may go: when you have seen one, -you have seen all. - -The answer decides us--we determine to get back to the surface. - -We returned along the gallery, just as we had advanced, with the same -large allowance of scrambling, creeping, and stumbling on our way. I was -charitably carried along and down the platform over the pit by my -trowsers, as before: our order of procession only changed when we gained -the ladders again. Then, our friend the miner went last instead of -first, upon the same principle of being ready to catch us if we fell, -which led him to precede us on our descent. Except that one of the -rounds cracked under his weight as we went up, we ascended without -casualties of any kind. As we neared the mouth of the shaft, the -daylight atmosphere looked dazzlingly white, after the darkness in which -we had been groping so long; and when we once more stood out on the -cliff, we felt a cold, health-giving purity in the sea-breeze, and, at -the same time, a sense of recovered freedom in the power that we now -enjoyed of running, jumping, and stretching our limbs in perfect -security and with full space for action, which it was almost a new -sensation to experience. Habit teaches us to think little of the light -and air that we live and breathe in, or, at most, to view them only as -the ordinary conditions of our being. To find out that they are more -than this, that they are a luxury as well as a necessity of life, go -down into a mine, and compare what you _can_ exist in there, with -what you _do_ exist in, on upper earth! - -On re-entering the counting-house, we were greeted by the welcome -appearance of two large tubs of water, with soap and flannel placed -invitingly by their sides. Copious ablutions and clean clothes, are -potent restorers of muscular energy. These, and a half hour of repose, -enabled us to resume our knapsacks as briskly as ever, and walk on -fifteen miles to the town of St. Ives--our resting-place for the night. - -Serious accidents are rare in the mines of Cornwall. From the horrors of -such explosions as take place in coal-mines, they are by their nature -entirely free. The casualties that oftenest occur are serious falls, -generally produced by the carelessness of inexperienced, or foolhardy -people. Of these, and of extraordinary escapes from death with which -they are associated, many anecdotes are told in mining districts, which -would appear to the reader exaggerated, or positively untrue, if I -related them on mere hearsay evidence. There was, however, one instance -of a fall down the shaft of a mine, unattended with fatal consequences, -which occurred while I was in Cornwall; and which I may safely adduce, -for I can state some of the facts connected with the affair, as an -eye-witness. I attended an examination of the sufferer by a medical man, -and heard the story of the accident from the parents of the patient. - -On the 7th of August last, a boy fourteen years of age, the son of a -miner, slipped into the shaft of Boscaswell Down Mine, in the -neighborhood of Penzance. He fell to the depth of thirteen fathoms, or -seventy-eight feet. Fifty-eight feet down, he struck his left side -against a board placed across the shaft, snapped it in two, and then -falling twenty feet more, pitched on his head. He was of course taken up -insensible; the doctor was sent for; and, on examining him, found, to -his amazement, that there was actually a chance of the boy's recovery -after his tremendous fall! - -Not a bone in his body was broken. He was bruised and scratched all -over, and there were three cuts--none of them serious--on his head. The -board stretched across the shaft, twenty feet from the bottom, had saved -him from being dashed to pieces; but had inflicted, at the same time, -where his left side had struck it, the only injury that appeared -dangerous to the medical man--a large, hard lump that could be felt -under the bruised skin. The boy showed no symptoms of fever; his pulse, -day after day, was found never varying from eighty-two to the minute; -his appetite was voracious; and the internal functions of his body only -required a little ordinary medicine to keep them properly at work. In -short, nothing was to be dreaded but the chance of the formation of an -abscess in his left side, between the hip and ribs. He had been under -medical care exactly one week, when I accompanied the doctor on a visit -to him. - -The cottage where he lived with his parents, though small, was neat and -comfortable. We found him lying in bed, awake. He looked sleepy and -lethargic; but his skin was moist and cool; his face displayed neither -paleness, nor injury of any kind. He had just eaten a good dinner of -rabbit-pie; and was anxious to be allowed to sit up in a chair, and -amuse himself by looking out of the window. His left side was first -examined. A great circular bruise discolored the skin, over the whole -space between the hip and ribs; but on touching it, the doctor -discovered that the lump beneath had considerably decreased in size, and -was much less hard than it had felt during previous visits. Next, we -looked at his back and arms--they were scratched and bruised all over; -but nowhere seriously. Lastly, the dressings were taken off his head, -and three cuts were disclosed, which even a non-medical eye could easily -perceive to be of no great importance. Such were all the results of a -fall of seventy-eight feet! - -The boy's father reiterated to me the account of the accident, just as I -had already heard it from the doctor. How it happened, he said, could -only be guessed, for his son had completely forgotten all the -circumstances immediately preceding the fall; neither could he -communicate any of the sensations which must have attended it. Most -probably, he had been sitting dangling his legs idly over the mouth of -the shaft, and had so slipped in. But, however the accident really -happened, there the sufferer was before us--less seriously hurt than -many a lad who has trodden on a piece of orange peel as he was walking -along the street. - -We left him (humanly speaking) certain of recovery, now that the -dangerous lump in his side had begun to decrease. I have since heard -from his medical attendant, that in two months from the date of the -accident, he was at work again as usual in the mine; at that very part -of it too, where his fall had taken place! - -It was not the least interesting part of my visit to the cottage where -he lay ill, to observe the anxious affection displayed toward him by -both his parents. His mother left her work in the kitchen to hold him in -her arms, while the old dressings were being taken off and the new ones -applied--sighing bitterly, poor creature, every time he winced or cried -out under the pain of the operation. The father put several questions to -the doctor; which were always perfectly to the point; and did the honors -of his little abode to his stranger visitor, with a natural politeness -and a simple cordiality of manner which showed that he really meant the -welcome that he spoke. Nor was he any exception to the rest of his -brother-workmen with whom I met. As a body of men, they are industrious -and intelligent; sober and orderly; neither soured by hard work, nor -easily depressed by harder privations. No description of personal -experiences in the Cornish mines can be fairly concluded, without a -collateral testimony to the merits of the Cornish miners--a testimony -which I am happy to accord here; and to which my readers would -cheerfully add their voices, if they ever felt inclined to test its -impartiality by their own experience. - - - - -SATURDAY IN A LONDON MARKET.[12] - - -[Footnote 12: From MAYHEW'S "London Labor and the London Poor," in the -press of Messrs. Harper and Brothers.] - -On a Saturday--the coster's business day--it is computed that as many as -2000 donkey-barrows, and upward of 3000 women with shallows and -head-baskets visit this market during the forenoon. About six o'clock in -the morning is the best time for viewing the wonderful restlessness of -the place, for then not only is the "Garden" itself all bustle and -activity, but the buyers and sellers stream to and from it in all -directions, filling every street in the vicinity. From Long Acre to the -Strand on the one side, and from Bow-street to Bedford-street on the -other, the ground has been seized upon by the market-goers. As you -glance down any one of the neighboring streets, the long rows of carts -and donkey-barrows seem interminable in the distance. They are of all -kinds, from the greengrocer's taxed cart to the coster's barrow--from -the showy excursion-van to the rude square donkey-cart and bricklayer's -truck. In every street they are ranged down the middle and by the -curb-stones. Along each approach to the market, too, nothing is to be -seen, on all sides, but vegetables; the pavement is covered with heaps -of them waiting to be carted; the flagstones are stained green with the -leaves trodden under foot; sieves and sacks full of apples and potatoes, -and bundles of broccoli and rhubarb, are left unwatched upon almost -every door-step; the steps of Covent Garden Theatre are covered with -fruit and vegetables; the road is blocked up with mountains of cabbages -and turnips; and men and women push past with their arms bowed out by -the cauliflowers under them, or the red tips of carrots pointing from -their crammed aprons, or else their faces are red with the weight of the -loaded head-basket. - -The donkey-barrows, from their number and singularity, force you to stop -and notice them. Every kind of ingenuity has been exercised to construct -harness for the costers' steeds; where a buckle is wanting, tape or -string make the fastening secure; traces are made of rope and old chain, -and an old sack or cotton handkerchief is folded up as a saddle-pad. -Some few of the barrows make a magnificent exception, and are gay with -bright brass; while one of the donkeys may be seen dressed in a suit of -old plated carriage-harness, decorated with coronets in all directions. -At some one of the coster conveyances stands the proprietor, arranging -his goods, the dozing animal starting up from its sleep each time a -heavy basket is hoisted on the tray. Others, with their green and white -and red load neatly arranged, are ready for starting, but the coster is -finishing his breakfast at the coffee-stall. On one barrow there may -occasionally be seen a solitary sieve of apples, with the horse of some -neighboring cart helping himself to the pippins while the owner is away. -The men that take charge of the trucks, while the costers visit the -market, walk about, with their arms full of whips and sticks. At one -corner a donkey has slipped down, and lies on the stones covered with -the cabbages and apples that have fallen from the cart. - -The market itself presents a beautiful scene. In the clear morning air -of an autumn day the whole of the vast square is distinctly seen from -one end to the other. The sky is red and golden with the newly-risen -sun, and the rays falling on the fresh and vivid colors of the fruit and -vegetables, brighten up the picture as with a coat of varnish. There is -no shouting, as at other markets, but a low murmuring hum is heard, like -the sound of the sea at a distance, and through each entrance to the -market the crowd sweeps by. Under the dark Piazza little bright dots of -gas-lights are seen burning in the shops; and in the paved square the -people pass and cross each other in all directions, hampers clash -together, and excepting the carters from the country, every one is on -the move. Sometimes a huge column of baskets is seen in the air, and -walks away in a marvelously steady manner, or a monster railway van, -laden with sieves of fruit, and with the driver perched up on his high -seat, jolts heavily over the stones. Cabbages are piled up into stacks, -as it were. Carts are heaped high with turnips, and bunches of carrots, -like huge red fingers, are seen in all directions. Flower-girls, with -large bundles of violets under their arms, run past, leaving a trail of -perfume behind them. Wagons, with their shafts sticking up in the air, -are ranged before the salesmen's shops, the high green load railed in -with hurdles, and every here and there bunches of turnips are seen -flying in the air over the heads of the people. Groups of apple-women, -with straw pads on their crushed bonnets, and coarse shawls crossing -their bosoms, sit on their porter's knots, chatting in Irish, and -smoking short pipes; every passer-by is hailed with the cry of "Want a -baskit, yer honor?" The porter, trembling under the piled-up hamper, -trots along the street, with his teeth clenched, and shirt wet with the -weight, and staggering at every step he takes. - -Inside, the market is all bustle and confusion. The people walk along -with their eyes fixed on the goods, and frowning with thought. Men in -all costumes, from the coster in his corduroy suit to the greengrocer in -his blue apron, sweep past. A countryman, in an old straw hat and dusty -boots, occasionally draws down the anger of a woman for walking about -with his hands in the pockets of his smock-frock, and is asked, "if that -is the way to behave on a market-day?" Even the granite pillars can not -stop the crowd, for it separates and rushes past them, like the tide by -a bridge pier. At every turn there is a fresh odor to sniff at; either -the bitter aromatic perfume of the herbalists' shops breaks upon you, or -the scent of oranges, then of apples, and then of onions, is caught for -an instant as you move along. The broccoli tied up in square packets, -the white heads tinged slightly red, as it were, with the sunshine--the -sieves of crimson love-apples, polished like china--the bundles of white -glossy leeks, their roots dangling like fringe; the celery, with its -pinky stalks and bright green tops, the dark purple pickling-cabbages, -the scarlet carrots, the white knobs of turnips, the bright yellow balls -of oranges, and the rich brown coats of the chestnuts--attract the eye -on every side. Then there are the apple-merchants, with their fruit of -all colors, from the pale yellow green to the bright crimson, and the -baskets ranged in rows on the pavement before the little shops. Round -these the customers stand examining the stock, then whispering together -over their bargain, and counting their money. "Give you four shillings -for this here lot, master," says a coster, speaking for his three -companions. "Four-and-six is my price," answers the salesman. "Say four, -and it's a bargain," continues the man. "I said my price," returns the -dealer; "go and look round, and see if you can get 'em cheaper; if not, -come back. I only wants what's fair." The men, taking the salesman's -advice, move on. The walnut-merchant, with a group of women before his -shop, peeling the fruit, their fingers stained deep brown, is busy with -the Irish purchasers. The onion stores, too, are surrounded by -Hibernians, feeling and pressing the gold-colored roots, whose dry skins -crackle as they are handled. Cases of lemons in their white paper -jackets, and blue grapes, just seen above the sawdust, are ranged about, -and in some places the ground is slippery as ice from the refuse leaves -and walnut-husks scattered over the pavement. - -Against the railings of St. Paul's Church are hung baskets and slippers -for sale, and near the public-house is a party of countrymen preparing -their bunches of pretty colored grass--brown and glittering, as if it -had been bronzed. Between the spikes of the railing are piled up square -cakes of green turf for larks; and at the pump, boys, who probably have -passed the previous night in the baskets about the market, are washing, -and the water dripping from their hair that hangs in points over the -face. The curb-stone is blocked up by a crowd of admiring lads, gathered -round the bird-catcher's green stand, and gazing at the larks beating -their breasts against their cages. The owner, whose boots are red with -the soil of the brick-field, shouts, as he looks carelessly around, "A -cock linnet for tuppence," and then hits at the youths who are poking -through the bars at the fluttering birds. - -Under the Piazza the costers purchase their flowers (in pots), which -they exchange in the streets for old clothes. Here is ranged a small -garden of flower-pots, the musk and mignonnette smelling sweetly, and -the scarlet geraniums, with a perfect glow of colored air about the -flowers, standing out in rich contrast with the dark green leaves of the -evergreens behind them. "There's myrtles, and laurels, and boxes," says -one of the men selling them, "and there's a harbora witus, and -lauristiners, and that bushy shrub with pink spots is heath." Men and -women, selling different articles, walk about under the cover of the -colonnade. One has seed-cake, another small-tooth and other combs, -others old caps or pig's feet, and one hawker of knives, razors, and -short hatchets, may occasionally be seen driving a bargain with a -countryman, who stands passing his thumb over the blade to test its -keenness. Between the pillars are the coffee-stalls, with their large -tin cans and piles of bread and butter, and protected from the wind by -paper screens and sheets thrown over clothes-horses; inside these little -parlors, as it were, sit the coffee-drinkers on chairs and benches, some -with a bunch of cabbages on their laps, blowing the steam from their -saucers, others, with their mouths full, munching away at their slices, -as if not a moment could be lost. One or two porters are there besides, -seated on their baskets, breakfasting with their knots on their heads. - -As you walk away from this busy scene, you meet in every street barrows -and costers hurrying home. The pump in the market is now surrounded by a -cluster of chattering wenches quarreling over whose turn it is to water -their drooping violets, and on the steps of Covent Garden Theatre are -seated the shoeless girls, tying up the halfpenny and penny bundles. - - - - -THE HORRORS OF WAR. - - -In a work recently published in London, entitled "Lights and Shades of -Military Life," M. de VIGNY, the author, gives incidents from -his own experience which place in a striking light some of the -unutterable horrors of war. - -In his first march, with his ambition glowing as brightly as his maiden -sword, and his hopes yet fresh as his untarnished epaulets, he falls in -with an old _chef de bataillon_. He was a man of about fifty, with -mustaches, tall and stout, his back curved, after the manner of old -military officers who have carried the knapsack. His features were hard -but benevolent, such as you often meet with in the army, indicating, at -the same time, the natural goodness of the heart of the man, and the -callousness induced by long use to scenes of blood and carnage. This old -soldier of the Empire is marching along beside a little cart, drawn by a -sorry mule, in which sits a woman--a maniac--whose story he tells with a -soldier's frankness, as a part of his own history. The old man had been -a sailor in his youth, and at the time of the Directory was captain of a -merchantman. From that situation he was promoted, aristocracy being at a -discount, to command the Marat, a brig of war, and one of his first -duties was to sail with two political prisoners, a young Frenchman and -his wife. He supposed that he was to land them at Cayenne, to which -place other exiles had previously been dispatched in other vessels; but -he carried sealed orders from the Directory, which were not to be opened -till the vessel reached the Equator. On the passage, the captain and his -young passengers became greatly attached to each other, so much so that -he wished to leave the service, and, with what fortune he had, share and -alleviate their fate. In their youth and innocence, and earnest love for -each other, the young unfortunates had twined themselves about the rough -heart of the sailor, and he regarded them as his children. But there was -the ominous letter, bearing the red seals of the Directory, which was to -decide their fate--and the time arrived for it to be opened. The seals -were broken, and what was the captain's horror to find that it contained -an order for him to have the young husband shot, and then to return with -the wife to France. After he had read the paper, he rubbed his eyes, -thinking that they must have deceived him. He could not trust his -senses. His limbs trembled beneath him. He could not trust himself to go -near the fair young Laura, who looked so happy, with tidings that would -blight her existence. What was he to do? He never seems to have thought -of leaving the order unexecuted; the iron of unreasoning obedience had -seared his soul too deeply for that. The horrid task, revolt at it as he -might, was a _duty_, because he had been _ordered_ to do it. -He communicated the order to his victim, who heard his fate with a -stoicism worthy of an old Roman. His only thought was for his poor young -wife, so fair, and fond, and gentle. He said, with a voice as mild as -usual, "I ask no favor, captain. I should never forgive myself if I were -to cause you to violate your duty. I should merely like to say a few -words to Laura, and I beg you to protect her, in case she should survive -me, which I do not think she will." It is arranged between the victim of -slavish obedience, and the victim of the cruelty of the Reign of Terror, -that poor Laura should know nothing of what was to be her husband's -fate. She is put into a boat at night and rowed from the ship, while the -tragedy is being acted out; but she sees the flash of the muskets, her -heart tells her too plainly what has happened, and her reason fails -under the shock. "At the moment of firing, she clasped her hand to her -head, as if a ball had struck her brow, and sat down in the boat without -fainting, without shrieking, without speaking, and returned to the brig -with the crew when they pleased and how they pleased." The old captain -spoke to her but she did not understand him. She was mute, rubbing her -pale forehead, and trembling as though she were afraid of every body, -and thus she remained an idiot for life. The captain returned to France -with his charge, got himself removed into the land forces, for the -sea--into which he had cast innocent blood--was unbearable to him; and -had continued to watch over the poor imbecile as a father over his -child. - -M. de Vigny saw the poor woman; he says, "I saw two blue eyes of -extraordinary size, admirable in point of form, starting from a long, -pale, emaciated face, inundated by perfectly straight fair hair. I saw, -in truth, nothing but those two eyes, which were all that was left of -that poor woman, for the rest of her was dead. Her forehead was red, her -cheeks hollow and white, and bluish on the cheek bones. She was crouched -among the straw, so that one could just see her two knees rising above -it, and on them she was playing all alone at dominoes. She looked at us -for a moment, trembled a long time, smiled at me a little, and began to -play again. It seemed to me that she was trying to make out how her -right hand beat her left." It was the wreck of love and beauty, torn by -the blind slave obedience, at the bidding of vengeance and hate. M. de -Vigny was a young and thoughtless soldier; but young and thoughtless as -he was, the phantom glory must have beamed brightly indeed, to prevent -him from seeing the gloomy darkness of such a shade of military life as -this, and keep him from shaking the fetters of blind obedience from -intellect and mercy. He never saw the old _chef_ and his charge -again; but he heard of them. In speaking to a brother officer one day of -the sad story, his companion in arms replied, "Ah, my dear fellow, I -knew that poor devil well. A brave man he was too; he was taken off by a -cannon-ball at Waterloo. He had, in fact, left along with the baggage a -sort of crazy girl, whom we took to the hospitable of Amiens on our way -to the army of the Loire, and who died there and raving at the end of -three days." - -If in this story we recognize the goodness, the true nobility of heart -of this old soldier, we can not fail to see in all its hideousness, the -horrors and evils of a system which deadens intellect, paralyzes virtue, -and dims the light of mercy--the system of slavish obedience, crushing -out all individuality, and making the good and the bad alike its -subservient instruments. - -As a pendant to the above we take a few extracts from the story of -Captain Renaud, once a page to Napoleon, of whom Byron truly says: - - "With might unquestioned--power to save-- - Thine only gift hath been the grave, - To those that worship'd thee." - -And so poor Renaud found. He had the misfortune to fall under the -displeasure of the Emperor, and was sent from the army to serve on board -that abortive flat-bottomed-boat armada, which threatened a descent upon -the shores of England. Here he was taken prisoner, and, after a long -captivity, being exchanged, hastened to Paris to throw himself at the -feet of the conqueror. The reception was a strange one. It took place at -the Opera, and we quote a description of it. "He (Napoleon) placed his -left hand upon his left eye to see better, according to his custom; I -perceived that he had recognized me. He turned about sharply, took no -notice of any thing but the stage, and presently retired. I was already -in waiting for him. He walked fast along the corridor, and, from his -thick legs, squeezed into white silk stockings, and his bloated figure -in his green dress, I should scarcely have known him again. He stopped -short before me, and speaking to the colonel, who presented me, instead -of addressing himself direct to me, 'Why,' said he, 'have I never seen -any thing of him? Still a lieutenant?' - -"'He has been a prisoner ever since 1804.' - -"'Why did he not make his escape?' - -"'I was on parole!' said I, in an undertone. - -"'I don't like prisoners!--the fellows ought to get killed,' said he, -turning his back upon me. - -"We remained motionless in file, and when the whole of his suite had -passed: 'My dear fellow,' said the colonel, 'don't you see plainly that -you are a fool? You have lost your promotion, and nobody thinks the -better of you for it.'" - -Poor obedience, blind, slavish, unreasoning; its reward was often to be -spurned. "Fool" indeed; a great many people will be inclined to re-echo -the colonel's epithet, not because Renaud had been a prisoner--not -because he was not killed, or did not escape, but because this same -habit of obedience had so thoroughly taken the true man out of him, that -he did not cut the epaulets from his shoulders, and leave glory to find -some other fool. But he was a soldier, and a soldier's first duty was -obedience. He went to his regiment, and from his after-life we extract -another "shade" of the horrors of war. Captain Renaud narrates how he -surprised a detachment of Russians at their post. It was a glorious -achievement of course--a parallel to any of the atrocities of the North -American Indians. "I came up slowly, and I could not, I must confess, -get the better of a certain emotion which I had never felt at the moment -of other encounters. It was shame for attacking men who were asleep; I -saw them wrapped in their cloaks, lighted by a close lantern, and my -heart throbbed violently. But all at once, at the moment of acting, I -feared that it was a weakness very like that of cowards; I was afraid -that I had for once felt fear, and taking my sword, which had been -concealed under my arm, I briskly entered first, setting the example to -my grenadiers. I made a motion to them which they comprehended; they -fell first upon the guns, then upon the men, like wolves upon a flock of -sheep. Oh, it was a dismal, a horrible butchery. The bayonet pierced, -the butt-end smashed, the knee stifled, the hand strangled. All cries -were extinguished, almost before they were uttered, beneath the feet of -our soldiers; and not a head was raised without receiving the mortal -blow. On entering, I had struck at random a terrible stroke at something -black, which I had run through and through. An old officer, a tall stout -man, whose head was covered with white hair, sprung upon his feet like a -phantom, made a violent lunge at my face with a sword, and instantly -dropped dead pierced by the bayonets! On my part, I fell beside him, -stunned by the blow, which had struck me between the eyes, and I heard -beneath me the tender and dying voice of a boy, saying, 'papa!' I then -comprehended what I had done, and I looked at my work with frantic -eagerness. I saw one of those officers of fourteen, so numerous in the -Russian armies, which invaded us at that period, and who were dragged -away to this awful school. His long curling hair fell upon his bosom, as -fair, as silken as that of a woman, and his head was bowed, as though he -had but fallen asleep a second time. His rosy lips, expanded like those -of a new-born infant, seemed to be yet moist with the nurse's milk; and -his large blue eyes, half open, had a beauty of form that was fond and -feminine. I lifted him upon one arm, and his cheek fell against mine, -dripping with blood, as though he were burying his face in his mother's -bosom to warm it again. He seemed to shrink from me, and crouch close to -the ground, in order to get away from his murderer. Filial affection, -and the confidence and repose of a delicious sleep pervaded his lifeless -face, and he seemed to say to me, 'Let us sleep in peace!' - -"At this moment, the colonel entered, followed close by his column, -whose step and arms I heard. - -"'Bravo, my dear fellow,' said he, 'you've done that job cleverly; but -you are wounded!' - -"'Look there,' said I; 'what difference is there between me and a -murderer?' - -"'Eh! _Sacre dieu!_ comrade, what would you have? 'Tis our trade!'" - -Great God! what a trade for men to give themselves up to, for -considerations of all kinds, from peerages and pensions down to a -shilling a day. Legalized murder as a profession for the poor -foster-children of passive obedience, who, when they trust themselves to -think, sometimes find themselves--and upon their own showing, -too--little better than murderers. Poor Captain Renaud, however, -continued in the service still. So thoroughly was the man smothered in -the soldier, that neglect, contempt, contumely, and the sensations of a -homicide were not sufficient to induce him to break his fetters. After -Napoleon's fall, he remained a soldier of the Bourbons, and there was a -sort of poetical justice in his death; for in the sanguinary revolution -of 1830 a _gamin de Paris_, a boy scarcely able to hold a -horse-pistol, shot the veteran of the Empire. - -M. de Vigny closes his portion of the "Lights and Shades" by setting up -an idol for soldiers to worship, and which is to sustain them under all -their sufferings. The profession of arms has lost the attribute of -apparent usefulness which once belonged to it. The star of glory is -setting below the horizon of peace; and warriors, knowing themselves at -once hated and feared--feeling themselves out of place in the era which -is beginning--degraded from heroes into policemen--are to lean upon -HONOR for support; but we think, that in the midst of obloquy, -privation, and neglect, that sentiment will prove but a broken staff, -incapable of bearing such a load of misery and wrong. - - - - -THE FACTORY BOY. - - BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. - - -In the middle of a dark night, Joel, a boy of nine years old, heard his -name called by a voice which, through his sleep, seemed miles away. Joel -had been tired enough when he went to bed, and yet he had not gone to -sleep for some time; his heart beat so at the idea of his mother being -very ill. He well remembered his father's death, and his mother's -illness now revived some feelings which he had almost forgotten. His bed -was merely some clothes spread on the floor, and covered with a rug; but -he did not mind that; and he could have gone to sleep at once but for -the fear that had come over him. When he did sleep, his sleep was sound; -so that his mother's feeble voice calling him seemed like a call from -miles away. - -In a minute Joel was up and wide awake. - -"Light the candle," he could just hear the voice say. - -He lighted the candle, and his beating heart seemed to stop when he saw -his mother's face. He seemed hardly to know whether it was his mother or -no. - -"Shall I call--?" - -"Call nobody, my dear. Come here." - -He laid his cheek to hers. - -"Mother, you are dying," he murmured. - -"Yes, love, I am dying. It is no use calling any one. These little ones, -Joel." - -"I will take care of them, mother." - -"You, my child! How should that be?" - -"Why not?" said the boy, raising himself, and standing at his best -height. "Look at me, mother. I can work. I promise you--" - -His mother could not lift her hand, but she moved a finger in a way -which checked him. - -"Promise nothing that may be too hard afterward," she said. - -"I promise to try then," he said; "that little sister shall live at -home, and never go to the workhouse." He spoke cheerfully, though the -candle-light glittered in the two streams of tears on his cheeks. "We -can go on living here; and we shall be so--" - -It would not do. The sense of their coming desolation rushed over him in -a way too terrible to be borne. He hid his face beside her, murmuring, -"O mother! mother!" - -His mother found strength to move her hand now. She stroked his head -with a trembling touch, which he seemed to feel as long as he lived. She -could not say much more. She told him she had no fear for any of them. -They would be taken care of. She advised him not to waken the little -ones, who were sound asleep on the other side of her, and begged him to -lie down himself till daylight, and try to sleep, when she should be -gone. - -This was the last thing she said. The candle was very low; but before -it went out, she was gone. Joel had always done what his mother wished; -but he could not obey her in the last thing she had said. He lighted -another candle when the first went out; and sat thinking, till the gray -dawn began to show through the window. - -When he called the neighbors, they were astonished at his quietness. He -had taken up the children, and dressed them, and made the room tidy, and -lighted the fire, before he told any body what had happened. And when he -opened the door, his little sister was in his arms. She was two years -old, and could walk, of course; but she liked being in Joel's arms. Poor -Willy was the most confounded. He stood with his pinafore at his mouth, -staring at the bed, and wondering that his mother lay so still. - -If the neighbors were astonished at Joel that morning, they might be -more so at some things they saw afterward; but they were not. Every -thing seemed done so naturally; and the boy evidently considered what he -had to do so much a matter of course, that less sensation was excited -than about many smaller things. - -After the funeral was over, Joel tied up all his mother's clothes. He -carried the bundle on one arm, and his sister on the other. He would not -have liked to take money for what he had seen his mother wear; but he -changed them away for new and strong clothes for the child. He did not -seem to want any help. He went to the factory the next morning, as -usual, after washing and dressing the children, and getting a breakfast -of bread and milk with them. There was no fire; and he put every knife, -and other dangerous thing on a high shelf, and gave them some trifles to -play with, and promised to come and play with them at dinner-time. And -he did play. He played heartily with the little one, and as if he -enjoyed it, every day at the noon hour. Many a merry laugh the neighbors -heard from that room when the three children were together; and the -laugh was often Joel's. - -How he learned to manage, and especially to cook, nobody knew; and he -could himself have told little more than that he wanted to see how -people did it, and looked accordingly, at every opportunity. He -certainly fed the children well; and himself too. He knew that every -thing depended on his strength being kept up. His sister sat on his knee -to be fed till she could feed herself. He was sorry to give it up; but -he said she must learn to behave. So he smoothed her hair, and washed -her face before dinner, and showed her how to fold her hands while he -said grace. He took as much pains to train her to good manners at table -as if he had been a governess, teaching a little lady. While she -remained a "baby," he slept in the middle of the bed, between the two, -that she might have room, and not be disturbed; and when she ceased to -be a baby, he silently made new arrangements. He denied himself a hat, -which he much wanted, in order to buy a considerable quantity of coarse -dark calico, which, with his own hands, he made into a curtain, and -slung up across a part of the room; thus shutting off about a third of -it. Here he contrived to make up a little bed for his sister; and he was -not satisfied till she had a basin and jug, and piece of soap of her -own. Here nobody but himself was to intrude upon her without leave; and, -indeed, he always made her understand that he came only to take care of -her. It was not only that Willy was not to see her undressed. A neighbor -or two, now and then lifted the latch without knocking. One of these one -day, heard something from behind the curtain, which made her call her -husband silently to listen; and they always afterward treated Joel as if -he were a man, and one whom they looked up to. He was teaching the child -her little prayer. The earnest, sweet, devout tones by the boy, and the -innocent, cheerful imitation of the little one, were beautiful to hear, -the listeners said. - -Though so well taken care of, she was not to be pampered; there would -have been no kindness in that. Very early, indeed, she was taught, in a -merry sort of way, to put things in their places, and to sweep the -floor, and to wash up the crockery. She was a handy little thing, well -trained and docile. One reward that Joel had for his management was, -that she was early fit to go to chapel. This was a great point; as he, -choosing to send Willy regularly, could not go till he could take the -little girl with him. She was never known to be restless; and Joel was -quite proud of her. - -Willy was not neglected for the little girl's sake. In those days, -children went earlier to the factory, and worked longer than they do -now, and, by the time the sister was five years old, Willy became a -factory boy; and his pay put the little girl to school. When she, at -seven, went to the factory, too, Joel's life was altogether an easier -one. He always had maintained them all, from the day of his mother's -death. The times must have been good--work constant, and wages -steady--or he could not have done it. Now, when all three were earning, -he put his sister to a sewing-school for two evenings in the week, and -the Saturday afternoons; and he and Willy attended an evening-school, as -they found they could afford it. He always escorted the little girl -wherever she had to go: into the factory, and home again--to the school -door, and home again--and to the Sunday-school; yet he was himself -remarkably punctual at work and at worship. He was a humble, earnest, -docile pupil himself, at the Sunday-school--quite unconscious that he -was more advanced than other boys in the sublime science and practice of -duty. He felt that every body was very kind to him; but he was unaware -that others felt it an honor to be kind to him. - -I linger on these years, when he was a fine growing lad, in a state of -high content. I linger, unwilling to proceed. But the end must come; and -it is soon told. He was sixteen, I think, when he was asked to become a -teacher in the Sunday-school, while not wholly ceasing to be a scholar. -He tried, and made a capital teacher, and he won the hearts of the -children while trying to open their minds. By this he became more widely -known than before. - -One day in the next year a tremendous clatter and crash was heard in the -factory where Joel worked. A dead silence succeeded, and then several -called out that it was only an iron bar that had fallen down. This was -true: but the iron bar had fallen on Joel's head, and he was taken up -dead! - -Such a funeral as his is rarely seen. There is something that strikes on -all hearts in the spectacle of a soldier's funeral--the drum, the march -of comrades, and the belt and cap laid on the coffin. But there was -something more solemn and more moving than all such observances in the -funeral of this young soldier, who had so bravely filled his place in -the conflict of life. There was the tread of comrades here, for the -longest street was filled from end to end. For relics, there were his -brother and sister; and for a solemn dirge, the uncontrollable groans of -a heart-stricken multitude. - - - - -FIDGETY PEOPLE. - - -There are people whom one occasionally meets with in the world, who are -in a state of perpetual fidget and pucker. Every thing goes wrong with -them. They are always in trouble. Now, it is the weather, which is too -hot; or at another time, too cold. The dust blows into their eyes, or -there is "that horrid rain," or "that broiling sun," or "that Scotch -mist." They are as ill to please about the weather as a farmer; it is -never to their liking, and never will be. They "never saw such a -summer," "not a day's fine weather," and they go back to antiquity for -comfort--"it was not so in our younger days." - -Fidgety people are rarely well. They have generally "a headache," or -"spasms," or "nerves," or something of that sort; they can not be -comfortable in their way, without trouble. Most of their friends are -ill; this one has the gout "_so_ bad;" another has the rheumatics; -a third is threatened with consumption; and there is scarcely a family -of their acquaintance whose children have not got measles, -whooping-cough, scarlet fever, or some other of the thousand -ills which infantine flesh is heir to. They are curiously solicitous -about the health of every body; this one is exhorted "not to drink too -much cold water," another "not to sit in the draught," a third is -advised to "wear flannels;" and they have great doctors at their -fingers' ends whom they can quote in their support. They have read -Buchan and Culpepper, and fed their fidgets upon their descriptions of -diseases of all sorts. They offer to furnish recipes for pills, -draughts, and liniments; and if you would believe them, your life -depends on taking their advice gratis forthwith. - -To sit at meals with such people is enough to give one the dyspepsia. -The chimney has been smoking, and the soot has got into the soup; the -fish is over-done, and the mutton is underdone; the potatoes have had -the disease, the sauce is not of the right sort, the jelly is candied, -the pastry is fusty, the grapes are sour. Every thing is wrong. The cook -must be disposed of; Betty stands talking too long at the back-gate. The -poultry-woman must be changed, the potato-man discarded. There will be a -clean sweep. But things are never otherwise. The fidgety person remains -unchanged, and goes fidgeting along to the end of the chapter; changing -servants, and spoiling them by unnecessary complainings and -contradictions, until they become quite reckless of ever giving -satisfaction. - -The fidgety person has been reading the newspaper, and is in a ferment -about "that murder!" Every body is treated to its details. Or somebody's -house has been broken into, and a constant fidget is kept up for a time -about "thieves!" If a cat's whisper is heard in the night, "there is a -thief in the house;" if an umbrella is missing, "a thief has been in the -lobby;" if a towel can not be found, "a thief must have stolen it off -the hedge." You are counseled to be careful of your pockets when you -stir abroad. The outer doors are furnished with latches, new bolts and -bars are provided for outhouses, bells are hung behind the shutters, and -all other possible expedients are devised to keep out the imaginary -"thief." - -"Oh! there is a smell of fire!" Forthwith the house is traversed, -down-stairs and up-stairs, and a voice at length comes from the kitchen, -"It's only Bobby been burning a stick." You are told forthwith of a -thousand accidents, deaths, and burnings, that have come from burning -sticks! Bobby is petrified and horror-stricken, and is haunted by the -terror of conflagrations. If Bobby gets a penny from a visitor, he is -counseled "not to buy gunpowder" with it, though he has a secret longing -for crackers. Maids are cautioned to "be careful about the -clothes-horse," and their ears are often startled with a cry from -above-stairs of "Betty, there is surely something singeing!" - -The fidgety person "can not bear" the wind whistling through the -key-hole, nor the smell of washing, nor the sweep's cry of "svee-eep, -svee-eep," nor the beating of carpets, nor thick ink, nor a mewing cat, -nor new boots, nor a cold in the head, nor callers for rates and -subscriptions. All these little things are magnified into miseries, and -if you like to listen, you may sit for hours and hear the fidgety person -wax eloquent about them, drawing a melancholy pleasure from the recital. - -The fidgety person sits upon thorns, and loves to perch his or her -auditor on the same raw material. Not only so, but you are dragged over -thorns, until you feel thoroughly unskinned. Your ears are bored, and -your teeth are set on edge. Your head aches, and your withers are wrung. - You are made to shake hands with -misery, and almost long for some real sorrow as a relief. - -The fidgety person makes a point of getting out of humor upon any -occasion, whether about private or public affairs. If subjects for -misery do not offer within doors, they abound without. Something that -has been done in the next street excites their ire, or something done a -thousand miles off, or even something that was done a thousand years -ago. Time and place matter nothing to the fidgety. They overleap all -obstacles in getting at their subject. They _must_ be in hot water. -If one question is set at rest, they start another; and they wear -themselves to the bone in settling the affairs of every body, which are -never settled; they - - "Are made desperate by a too quick sense - Of constant infelicity." - -Their feverish existence refuses rest, and they fret themselves to death -about matters with which they have often no earthly concern. They are -spendthrifts in sympathy, which in them has degenerated into an -exquisite tendency to pain. They are launched on a sea of trouble, the -shores of which are perpetually extending. They are self-stretched on a -rack, the wheels of which are ever going round. - -The fundamental maxim of the fidgety is--whatever is, is wrong. They -will not allow themselves to be happy, nor any body else. They always -assume themselves to be the _most_ aggrieved persons extant. Their -grumbling is incessant, and they operate as a social poison wherever -they go. Their vanity and self-conceit are usually accompanied by -selfishness in a very aggravated form, which only seems to make their -fidgets the more intolerable. You will generally observe that they are -idle persons; indeed, as a general rule, it may be said, that the -fidgety class want healthy occupations. In nine cases out of ten, -employment in some active pursuit, in which they could not have time to -think about themselves, would operate as a cure. - -But, we must make an allowance. Fidgets are often caused by the state of -the stomach, and a fit of bad temper may not unfrequently be traced to -an attack of indigestion. One of the most fidgety members of the House -of Commons is a martyr to dyspepsia, and it is understood that some of -his most petulant and bitter diatribes have been uttered while laboring -under more than usually severe attacks of this disease. He has "pitched -into" some "honorable gentleman" when he should have taken blue pill. -And so it is with many a man, in domestic and social life, whom we blame -for his snappish and disagreeable temper, but whose stomach is the real -organ at fault. Indeed, the stomach is the moral no less than the -physical barometer of most men; and we can very often judge of tempers, -conditions, and sympathies, pretty accurately, according to its state. -Let us, therefore, be charitable to the fidgety, whose stomachs, rather -than their hearts, may be at fault; and let us counsel them to mend -them, by healthy and temperate modes of living, and by plenty of -wholesome occupation and exercise. - - - - -ANECDOTES OF SERPENTS. - - -We need not go to the Valley of Diamonds with Sinbad to find enormous -serpents. The companions of other sailors have been swallowed up by -those monstrous reptiles, as was too-clearly proved to the crew of the -Malay proa, who anchored for the night close to the island of Celebes. -One of the party went on shore to look for betel-nut, and, on returning -from his search, stretched his wearied limbs to rest on the beach, where -he fell asleep, as his companions believed. They were roused in the -middle of the night by his screams, and hurried on shore to his -assistance; but they came too late. A monstrous snake had crushed him to -death. All they could do was to wreak their vengeance on his destroyer, -whose head they cut off, and bore it with the body of their ship-mate to -their vessel. The marks of the teeth of the serpent, which was about -thirty feet in length, were impressed on the dead man's right wrist, and -the disfigured corpse showed that it had been crushed by constriction -round the head, neck, breast, and thigh. When the snake's jaws were -extended, they admitted a body the size of a man's head. - -But to see the true boas in their native forests we must cross the -Atlantic; and those who are not familiar with the story may have no -objection to learn how Captain Stedman fared in an encounter with one -twenty-two feet and some inches in length, during his residence in -Surinam. - -Captain Stedman was lying in his hammock, as his vessel floated down the -river, when the sentinel told him that he had seen and challenged -something black, moving in the brushwood on the beach, which gave no -answer. Up rose the captain, manned the canoe that accompanied his -vessel, and rowed to the shore to ascertain what it was. One of his -slaves cried out that it was no negro, but a great snake that the -captain might shoot if he pleased. The captain, having no such -inclination, ordered all hands to return on board. The slave, David, who -had first challenged the snake, then begged leave to step forward and -shoot it. This seems to have roused the captain, for he determined to -kill it himself, and loaded with ball cartridge. - -The master and slave then proceeded. David cut a path with a bill-hook, -and behind him came a marine with three more loaded guns. They had not -gone above twenty yards through mud and water, the negro looking every -way with uncommon vivacity, when he suddenly called out, "Me see -snakee!" and, sure enough there the reptile lay, coiled up under the -fallen leaves and rubbish of the trees. So well covered was it, that -some time elapsed before the captain could perceive its head, not -above sixteen feet from him, moving its forked tongue, while its -vividly-bright eyes appeared to emit sparks of fire. The captain now -rested his piece upon a branch to secure a surer aim, and fired. The -ball missed the head, but went through the body, when the snake struck -round with such astonishing force as to cut away all the underwood -around it with the facility of a scythe mowing grass, and, flouncing -with its tail, made the mud and dirt fly over their heads to a -considerable distance. This commotion seems to have sent the party to -the right about; for they took to their heels, and crawled into the -canoe. David, however, entreated the captain to renew the charge, -assuring him that the snake would be quiet in a few minutes, and that it -was neither able nor inclined to pursue them, supporting his opinion by -walking before the captain till the latter should be ready to fire. - -They now found the snake a little removed from its former station, very -quiet, with its head as before, lying out among the fallen leaves, -rotten bark, and old moss. Stedman fired at it immediately, but with no -better success than at first; and the enraged animal, being but slightly -wounded by the second shot, sent up such a cloud of dust and dirt as the -captain had never seen, except in a whirlwind; and away they all again -retreated to their canoe. Tired of the exploit, Stedman gave orders to -row toward the barge; but the persevering David still entreating that -_he_ might be permitted to kill the reptile, the captain determined -to make a third and last attempt in his company; and they this time -directed their fire with such effect that the snake was shot by one of -them through the head. - -The vanquished monster was then secured by a running-noose passed over -its head, not without some difficulty, however; for, though it was -mortally wounded, it continued to writhe and twist about so as to render -a near approach dangerous. The serpent was dragged to the shore, and -made fast to the canoe, in order that it might be towed to the vessel, -and continued swimming like an eel till the party arrived on board, -where it was finally determined that the snake should be again taken on -shore, and there skinned for the sake of its oil. This was accordingly -done; and David having climbed a tree with the end of a rope in his -hand, let it down over a strong-forked bough, the other negroes hoisted -away, and the serpent was suspended from the tree. Then, David quitting -the tree, with a sharp knife between his teeth, clung fast upon the -suspended snake, still twisting and twining, and proceeded to perform -the same operation that Marsyas underwent, only that David commenced his -work by ripping the subject up: he then stripped down the skin as he -descended. Stedman acknowledges, that though he perceived that the snake -was no longer able to do the operator any harm, he could not, without -emotion, see a naked man, black and bloody, clinging with arms and legs -round the slimy and yet living monster. The skin and above four gallons -of clarified fat, or rather oil, were the spoils secured on this -occasion; full as many gallons more seem to have been wasted. The -negroes cut the flesh into pieces, intending to feast on it; but the -captain would not permit them to eat what he regarded as disgusting -food, though they declared that it was exceedingly good and wholesome. -The negroes were right, and the captain was wrong: the flesh of most -serpents is very good and nourishing, to say nothing of the restorative -qualities attributed to it. - -One of the most curious accounts of the benefit derived by man from the -serpent race, is related by Kircher (see _Mus. Worm._), where it is -stated that near the village of Sassa, about eight miles from the city -of Bracciano, in Italy, there is a hole, or cavern, called _la Grotto, -delli Serpi_, which is large enough to contain two men, and is all -perforated with small holes like a sieve. From these holes, in the -beginning of spring, issue a prodigious number of small, -different-colored serpents, of which every year produces a new brood, -but which seem to have no poisonous quality. Such persons as are -afflicted with scurvy, leprosy, palsy, gout, and other ills to which -flesh is heir, were laid down naked in the cavern, and their bodies -being subjected to a copious sweat from the heat of the subterraneous -vapors, the young serpents were said to fasten themselves on every part, -and extract by sucking every diseased or vitiated humor; so that after -some repetitions of this treatment, the patients were restored to -perfect health. Kircher, who visited this cave, found it warm, and -answering, in every way, the description he had of it. He saw the holes, -heard a murmuring, hissing noise in them, and, though he owns that he -missed seeing the serpents, it not being the season of their creeping -out, yet he saw great numbers of their exuviæ, or sloughs, and an elm -growing hard by laden with them. The discovery of this air Schlangenbad, -was said to have been made by a leper going from Rome to some baths near -this place, who, fortunately, losing his way, and being benighted, -turned into this cave. Finding it very warm, and being very weary, he -pulled off his clothes, and fell into such a deep sleep that he did not -feel the serpents about him till they had wrought his cure. - -Such instances of good-will toward man, combined with the periodical -renovation of youthful appearance, by a change of the whole external -skin, and the character of the serpent for wisdom, contributed, -doubtless, to raise the form to a place among the deities. - -Their aptitude for tameness was another quality which aided their -elevation. The little girl mentioned by Maria Edgeworth, of blessed -memory, took out her little porringer daily to share her breakfast with -a friendly snake that came from its hiding-place to her call; and when -the guest intruded beyond the due limits, she would give it a tap on the -head with her spoon, and the admonition, "Eat on your own side, I say." - -A lad whom I knew kept a common snake in London, which he had rendered -so tame that it was quite at ease with him, and very fond of its -master. When taken out of its box, it would creep up his sleeve, come -out at the top, wind itself caressingly about his neck and face, and -when tired retire to sleep in his bosom. - -Carver, in his travels, relates an instance of docility, which, if true, -surpasses any story of the kind I ever heard. - -"An Indian belonging to the Menomonie, having taken a rattlesnake, found -means to tame it; and when he had done this treated it as a deity, -calling it his great father, and carrying it with him in a box wherever -he went. This he had done for several summers, when Mons. Pinnisance -accidentally met with him at this carrying place, just as he was setting -off for a winter's hunt. The French gentleman was surprised one day to -see the Indian place the box which contained his god on the ground, and -opening the door, give him his liberty; telling him, while he did it, to -be sure and return by the time he himself should come back, which was to -be in the month of May following. As this was but October, Monsieur told -the Indian, whose simplicity astonished him, that he fancied he might -wait long enough, when May arrived, for the arrival of his great father. -The Indian was so confident of his creature's obedience, that he offered -to lay the Frenchman a wager of two gallons of rum, that at the time -appointed he would come and crawl into his box. This was agreed on, and -the second week in May following fixed for the determination of the -wager. At that period they both met there again, when the Indian set -down his box, and called for his great father. The snake heard him not; -and the time being now expired, he acknowledged that he had lost. -However, without seeming to be discouraged, he offered to double the bet -if his father came not within two days more. This was further agreed on; -when, behold, on the second day, about one o'clock the snake arrived, -and of his own accord crawled into the box, which was placed ready for -him. The French gentleman vouched for the truth of this story, and from -the accounts I have often received of the docility of those creatures, I -see no reason to doubt its veracity." - - - - -THE WATCHER.--A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE. - - -In a dark room, in a ruined and wretched house, in one of the most -filthy districts of a great city, a mother sat watching her sleeping -babe. The infant was lying on a hard pallet on the floor, and the mother -was sitting beside it on a broken chair, plying her needle with eager -haste, and occasionally pausing to look down at her babe or to kiss it -as it lay asleep. The child was pale and sickly, and in the close -offensive air of the room it seemed to breathe painfully and to inhale, -with every pulse of its tender heart, the insidious principles of death -and dissolution. But not less pale and wan was the mother, who sat there -watching; her features wore that blanched, unearthly hue, and that -strange upward light was playing in her eyes, which spoke but too -plainly that death was breathing on her. The room was lonely--very -lonely--for there were no pictures to adorn its walls, scarcely any -articles of common domestic use within it; it was bare, almost -unfurnished, dismal, and cold. The mother was engaged in making shirts, -and the price which she received for them averaged two-pence-halfpenny -each; and it is said that by extraordinary exertions, for twenty hours -out of twenty-four, the sum of three shillings may be earned weekly at -such labor. Well, the pale, care-worn, suffering mother continued to -stitch, stitch, anxiously from hour to hour, leaving off now and then to -take her dying baby in her arms and to press it fondly to her breast, -until the tide of her heart's affection came stealing forth in tears; -and recollecting that the next meal for herself and child must be earned -by the continued labor of her jaded hands, she placed the infant on its -bed, and again resumed her work. - -Thus many hours had passed in a silence broken only by the low moaning -of the child, as it turned to and fro in the feeble expression of -long-continued anguish, and the deep sighs of the mother as she gazed -anxiously upon its fevered face, and saw the stamp of want and misery -there in an expression akin to the imbecility of years. At length the -babe awoke, and the mother took it tenderly into her arms; she pressed -it to her breast and kissed the cold dew from its forehead. And now she -began to prepare her humble meal, she placed a few sticks of wood in the -stove and lighted them, and placed an old broken kettle half filled with -water upon them; and then arranged two cups and saucers on a small tray, -and took a portion of a loaf from a shelf above. While waiting for the -water to boil she gave her child some food; and she had scarcely begun -to do this when a heavy and unsteady step was heard upon the threshold; -her heart leaped with fear, and she trembled like a moonlight shadow. A -creature somewhat in the semblance of a man staggered into the room, and -threw himself down upon the pallet where the child had just been -sleeping. - -"Charles, Charles, do not, for God's sake, treat me thus," said the -mother of the child, and she sobbed loudly, and was steeped in tears. - -The man scowled upon her from beneath the broken brim of a slouched hat, -and in a low fiendish growl, cursed her. His clothes had been -respectable in their time, but now were tattered and slovenly, and his -face wore the savage wildness and vacancy of long-continued dissipation. - -"I came home to ask you for money, so give me what you've got, and let -me go, for I haven't done drinking yet," said he, while the devil-like -glare of his eyes seemed to pierce the poor mother to the soul. - -"I spent my last penny to buy my child some food, I know not where to -get another; you have never wanted a meal while I could work, and my -poor fingers are wasted to the bone by midnight labor and the want of -bread, and my poor child is wasting away before my face, while you, -forgetting all the ties that bind a father to his offspring, or a -husband to his wife, take the very bread from me and my babe, to waste -it in drunkenness; oh, Charles, you loved me once, but you are killing -me now, and my poor dear child." - -"You howling, canting hypocrite, give me some money and let me go," -bawled the intoxicated brute, and with a sweep of his hand, as he sat -upon the child's bed, he overturned the table and scattered the -miserable meal upon the floor. The heart-broken wife rushed with her -babe to the opposite end of the room, and cowered down in fear. "Do you -hear, or do you want me to murder you?" and he rose from where he sat -and reeled toward her; shrinking and shivering as she bent over her -babe, she pressed its almost lifeless body to her heart, and when he -stood above her, she looked up in his face in the agony of despair, and -implored, in the mute utterance of her tear-worn eyes, for mercy. But he -did not strike her, although she was indeed well used to that, but he -put out his hand and taking from her bosom a locket, which had been a -dear sister's gift, and the last thing left her but her babe and death, -staggered to the door, and, after looking back with a menacing and -brutal expression of his savage features, left her. Although he was gone -she moved not, but sat wailing like a dove whose nest has been bereft of -that which made life dear, and sobbing loudly in her grief she looked -upon her child, and saw the tokens of pain and want upon its meagre -face, and could feel the throbbing of its little heart becoming more and -more feeble, from hour to hour, as the shadow of its life was waning. - -And night came, and she laid her child down to rest, and again sat -working and watching. She kissed it when its low cry startled her in the -midnight silence, and hushed it again to sleep, for it wanted food and -that she had not. The morning came, but it was still night to her, and -the darkness of her woe sat hovering over her frail soul like the shadow -of a great but silent misery. She hurried on in the delirium of extreme -weakness that she might complete the wretched work she had, and get food -for her famished child. Intense suffering, long watching, hunger, cold, -and cruelty had blanched a cheek which had been more fair than snow, and -had carved wrinkles, like those of age, upon a youthful brow; death -hovered over her like a ghastly shadow, not to her--as to those in -comfort--terrible, but welcome. And thus from hour to hour, and from day -to day, that mother labored for her lonely child, while he, whose heart -should have beat with the devotion of love for her whom he had sworn to -cherish, and whose hand should have been ever ready to defend her, -deeming nothing too severe, nothing too difficult, which could bring -food and comfort to a woman's constant heart, came only to rob her of -her last morsel, and to add fresh agonies to her almost withered soul by -imprecations and curses. - -One morning, after she had been toiling long in cold and hunger, she -became too weak to labor more, and nature faltered. She stooped to kiss -her babe and to ask a blessing on its head from Him whose benedictions -come even to the sorrowful and needy, and as she bent down above its -little shadowy form, her sorrows overwhelmed her, and she fell down -beside her child and fainted. With none to aid and soothe her--with none -to nourish her in her distress of heart, and no kind hand to minister to -the poor watcher in that hour of affliction, she lay in that sweet peace -which comes to the aching heart when it can for a time forget its -sorrows; and better too, perhaps, for her, for her babe was dying, and -in the unconsciousness of temporary death, she knew it not. - -She awoke at last, for even the forgetfulness so dear to the wounded -spirit will have an end, and the grim bitter realities become palpable -once more; and as consciousness returned she was startled from her -partial dream by the icy chill which fell upon her when she touched her -child. She shrieked wildly, and fell upon her face in the maddening -agony of despair, "my child, my child, oh, my child!" she cried, and -tore her hair in frenzy. Now she became more calm, and turned round to -look upon the babe, whose soul had passed into that better sleep from -which there is no waking. She kissed its cold wasted form, and bathed -its little marble face with her scalding tears. - -"Oh, my child," she sobbed, "my poor child, murdered by its father's -hand, the victim of his cruelty; oh, Father of all, Father of the wicked -and good, take my poor babe to thy fostering bosom, and let me die too, -for my last hope is gone, the last link of my heart's affection is -broken; Father of mercies, listen to the supplications of a childless -mother!" - -That step! and the blood goes back to her heart like an icy flood, and -every pulse is withered, as with a bleak and desolating frost; she holds -her breath, and with her dead child in her arms, crouches down in the -corner on the floor, and in the silence of despair and terror asks her -God to bless and protect her, and to soften his heart in such an awful -moment as this. He came to the threshold of the room, and fell prostrate -on the floor as he attempted to approach her; he was too much -intoxicated to rise, and there he lay muttering, in broken and -inarticulate words, the most horrible oaths and imprecations. The mother -spake not, for although, even then she could have prayed for him in her -heart, and bless him with her tongue; ay, and still labor for him with -her hands, if by such she could win back the old love which had made her -youthful hours glad, and which had spread the rosy atmosphere of hope -before her; but which was now a thing of silent memory, of sadness, and -of tears. - -Thus passed away the morning, and at noon the drunkard arose from where -he lay, and again demanded what money she had; she gave him a few -halfpence from her pocket, and he snatched them from her and departed. - -To know that he had gone to procure the poison on which he fed, with -this last remnant of the midnight toil, and when his child lay dead -within its mother's arms; to know that for the veriest morsel she must -toil again, sleepless and famished, and with the withered blossom of her -heart's broken hope beside her; to know that the last office of -affection, the burial of the child, must be performed by those who cared -for neither her nor it, and who would desecrate, by the vile touch of -parochial charity, that which had been more dear to her than her own -life; to know that all her joys were wasted now, and that she still -lived to hear him curse her in the very place where death had so lately -been; and that although she sat before him with the sleeping infant in -her arms, while he was too brutalized by drink to know that that sleep -was one from which it would never more awake, and that her own terror -made her speechless when she would have told him; all this was a torrent -of sorrow, before whose overbearing force her wintered heart gave way, -and she sank down upon the floor, with her dead babe in her arms, -senseless. - -Sleep came upon her like a poppy spell, and wafted her silent, soul to -sweeter worlds. Far away from her cold and solitary room, far away from -hunger, wretchedness, and tears; far away from the keen tortures of -maternal sorrow and the despair of withered love, her spirit wandered in -that peaceful dream. From earth, as from a wilderness of ashes, her -willing spirit went upon its upward flight, ascending and ascending. It -neared the blue and shining arch above, and clapped its wings for joy, -and felt within it the renovated bliss of innocent and unchanging -beauty. It felt the calming influence of soft music swelling around it -like sunbright waves upon a summer sea; it saw sweet spots and green -peaceful valleys lying in the rosy light of heaven, as clouds at evening -lie folded up in sleep. On and on her spirit went in calm and holy -majesty, amid the shadowy beauty of that pleasant land. It seemed to -bathe in bliss amid bright galaxies of living and rejoicing worlds, and -to embrace happiness as its long-sought boon. Through flowery pastures, -and falling waters, perfumed gardens, and star-lighted solitudes where -the soul of music dwelt and lived amid the sweet echoes of her seraph -songs, that mother's new-born soul wandered in its freedom, forgetting -all the pangs and tears it had so lately known. Now it passed floating -islands of glittering beauty where troops of cherubim were worshiping -their God; and from the midst of a soft bed of twilight flowers arose an -angel host of babes, soaring in their wantonness of joy to higher -regions of the azure air, and singing their simple songs in harmony -together. From all the gleaming lights afar came dulcet harpings of -angelic wings, and all things in that sweet dream-land of beauty told of -the joy which falls upon the virtuous soul. The spirit of the mother, -dazzled and amazed till now, awoke from its trance of wonder, and cried -aloud "my child, my child, and my husband, where, where are they?" and -she sank upon a gleaming bed of purpled blooms, and from the odorous -sighing of the lute-toned air the voice of her child came gladly in -reply. And now a joyous troop of star-light seraphs sailed toward her, -like a snowy cloud, and in the midst she sees her darling babe, clapping -its little hands in laughing glee, and overjoyed once more to meet her. -Oh, what bliss is like the feeling of a mother, when her trusting heart -is gladdened by the return of a child whom she deemed was lost; and if -such joy awake within the soul amid all the harsh realities of earth, -how much more so in the spirit's home, where nothing but the peaceful -thought can live, and all earth's grief is banished? It was her own -babe, the bud of hope she nursed and tended in the dark winter of her -earthly sorrow, now wearing the same smile which gladdened her amid the -gloom, but holier, fairer, and freed from all the traces of want and -suffering. The spirits of the mother and the babe embraced each other in -the wild joy of this happy meeting, and the mother's spirit knelt before -the heaven-built temple of light which arched above, and offered the -incense of its prayers for him whose wickedness of heart had steeped her -earthly days in bitterness; but who was yet to her the token of a -youthful hope, and the living memory of a trusting love. Her earnest -spirit, in the gush of its awakened affection for the child of her -bosom, called upon its God to have mercy upon him, and to snatch his -soul from the blackness of its guilt and the impending terrors of -destruction. And the prayer went upward, and the angels sung. - - * * * * * - -The drunkard staggered to the wretched home, and reeling into the silent -room gazed upon the wife and child. They spoke not, moved not; he -stooped to touch, but recoiled in horror, for both of them were dead. -The mother, in her sweet dream, had glided into the blissful evening -land, and he, the destroyer of a wife and child, now felt in all the -piercing agony of sin and shame, the scorpion stings of conscience. He -fell upon his knees and prayed for mercy! His withering soul seemed -struggling within him, and he gasped for breath. He had wandered into -wicked paths, he had blighted a gentle heart by cruelty and neglect, he -had wasted his own child's meal in drunkenness and villainy, while it -lay on its mother's breast perishing for want of food. He felt all the -terrors of remorse, and hell seemed gaping beneath him! He arose and -wept, and the first tear he shed was carried by invisible hands upward -to that world of peace, as a sacrifice of penitence to the kneeling -spirit of a mother. He wandered away in silence, and where he went were -the falling tears which spoke, in accents eloquent and true, the silent -utterance of a repentant heart. - - - - -PLATE GLASS--WHAT IT IS, AND HOW IT IS MADE. - - -Two other gentlemen occupied the railway carriage, which, on a gusty day -in December, was conveying us toward Gravesend, _via_ Blackwall. -One wore spectacles, by the aid of which he was perusing a small pocket -edition of his favorite author. No sound escaped his lips; yet, his -under-jaw and his disengaged hand moved with the solemn regularity of an -orator emitting periods of tremendous euphony. Presently, his delight -exploded in a loud shutting up of the book and an enthusiastic appeal to -us in favor of the writings of Dr. Samuel Johnson. - -"What, for example, can be finer, gentlemen, than his account of the -origin of glass-making; in which, being a drysalter, I take a particular -interest. Let me read the passage to you!" - -"But the noise of the train--" - -"Sir, I can drown that." - -The tone in which the Johnsonian "Sir" was let off, left no doubt of it. -Though a small man, the reader was what his favorite writer would have -denominated a Stentor, and what the modern school would call a Stunner. -When he re-opened the book and began to read, the words smote the ear as -if they had been shot out of the mouth of a cannon. To give additional -effect to the rounded periods of his author, he waved his arm in the air -at each turn of a sentence, as if it had been a circular saw. "Who," he -recited, "when he saw the first sand or ashes, by a casual intenseness -of heat, melted into a metalline form, rugged with excrescences, and -clouded with impurities, would have imagined, that in this shapeless -lump lay concealed so many conveniences of life, as would in time -constitute a great part of the happiness of the world? Yet by some such -fortuitous liquefaction was mankind taught to procure a body at once in -a high degree solid and transparent, which might admit the light of the -sun, and exclude the violence of the wind: which might extend the light -of the philosopher to new ranges of existence, and charm him at one time -with the unbounded extent of the material creation, and at another with -the endless subordination of animal life; and, what is yet of more -importance, might supply the decays of nature, and succor old age with -subsidiary sight. Thus was the first artificer in glass employed, though -without his own knowledge or expectation. He was facilitating and -prolonging the enjoyment of light, enlarging the avenues of science, and -conferring the highest and most lasting pleasures; he was enabling the -student to contemplate nature, and the beauty to behold herself. This -passion for--" - -"Blackwall, gents! Blackwall, ladies! Boat for Gravesend!" We should, -unquestionably, have been favored with the rest of the ninth number of -the "Rambler" (in which the fore-going passage occurs) but for these -announcements. - -"There is one thing, however," said the little man with the loud voice, -as we walked from the platform to the pier, "which I can _not_ -understand. What does the illustrious essayist mean by the 'fortuitous -liquefaction' of the sand and ashes. Was glass found out by accident?" - -Luckily, a ray of school-day classics enlightened a corner of our -memory, and we mentioned the well-known story, in Pliny, that some -Phoenician merchants, carrying saltpetre to the mouth of the river -Belus, went ashore; and, placing some lumps of the cargo under their -kettles to cook food, the heat of the fire fused the nitre, which ran -among the sand of the shore. The cooks finding this union to produce a -translucent substance, discovered the art of making glass. - -"That," said our other companion, holding his hat to prevent the wind -from blowing it aboard the Gravesend steamer (which was not to start for -ten minutes), "has been the stock tale of all writers on the subject, -from Pliny down to Ure; but, Sir Gardiner Wilkinson has put it out of -the power of future authors to repeat it. That indefatigable haunter of -Egyptian tombs discovered minute representations of glass-blowing, -painted on tombs of the time of Orsirtasin the First, some sixteen -hundred years before the date of Pliny's story. Indeed, a glass bead, -bearing the name of a king who lived fifteen hundred years before -Christ, was found in another tomb by Captain Henvey, the specific -gravity of which is precisely that of English crown-glass." - -"You seem to know all about it!" exclaimed the loud-voiced man. - -"Being a director of a plate-glass company I have made it my business to -learn all that books could teach me on the subject." - -"I should like to see glass made," said the vociferous admirer of Dr. -Johnson, "especially plate-glass." - -To this, the other replied, with ready politeness, "If your wish be very -strong, and you have an hour to spare, I shall be happy to show you the -works to which I am going--those of the Thames Plate Glass Company. They -are close by." - -"The fact is," was the reply, "Mrs. Bossle (I'm sorry to say Mrs. Bossle -is an invalid) expects me down to Gravesend to tea; but an hour won't -matter much." - -"And you, sir?" said the civil gentleman, addressing me. - -My desire was equally strong, and the next hour equally my own; for, as -the friend, whom a negligent public had driven to emigration, was not to -sail until the next morning, it did not much matter whether I took my -last farewell of him at Gravesend early or late that evening. - -Tracking our guide through dock gates, over narrow drawbridges, along -quays; now, dodging the rigging of ships; now, tripping over cables, -made "taut" to rings; now falling foul of warping-posts (for it was -getting dusk); one minute, leaping over deserted timber; the next, -doubling stray casks; the next, winding among the strangest ruins of -dismantled steamboats, for which a regular hospital seemed established -in that region of mud and water; then, emerging into dirty lanes, and -turning the corners of roofless houses; we finished an exciting game of -Follow-my-Leader, at a pair of tall gates. One of these admitted us into -the precincts of the southernmost of the six manufactories of plate -glass existing in this country. - -The first ingredient in making glass, to which we were introduced, was -contained in a goodly row of barrels in full tap, marked with the -esteemed brand of "Truman, Hanbury, Buxton, and Co." It is the -well-known fermented extract of malt and hops, which is, it seems, -nearly as necessary to the production of good plate glass, as flint and -soda. To liquefy the latter materials by means of fire is, in truth, dry -work; and our _cicerone_ explained, that seven pints per day, per -man, of Messrs. Truman, Hanbury, Buxton, and Company's Entire, has been -found, after years of thirsty experience, to be absolutely necessary to -moisten human clay, hourly baked at the mouths of blazing furnaces. -These furnaces emit a heat more intense than the most perspiring -imagination can conceive, or the stanchest thermometer indicate. An -attempt to ascertain the degree of heat was once made: a pyrometer (a -thermometer of the superlative degree, or "fire-measurer"), was applied -to the throat of a furnace--for every furnace has its mouth, its throat, -and its flaming tongues; but the wretched instrument, after five -minutes' scorching, made an expiring effort to mark _thirteen hundred -degrees above boiling point_, cracked, was shivered into bits, and -was finally swallowed up by the insatiable element whose proceedings it -had presumptuously attempted to register. - -Having, by this time, crossed a yard, we stood on the edge of a foul -creek of the Thames, so horribly slimy, that a crocodile or an -alligator, or any scaly monster of the Saurian period, seemed much more -likely to be encountered in such a neighborhood than the beautiful -substance that makes our modern rooms so glittering and bright; our -streets so dazzling, and our windows at once so radiant and so strong. - -"In order to understand our process thoroughly," said the obliging -director of the seven acres of factory and the four hundred operatives -we had come to see, "we must begin with the beginning. This," picking up -from a heap a handful of the finest of fine sand--the glittering pounce, -in fact, with which our forefathers spangled their writing--"is the -basis of all glass. It is the whitest, most highly pulverized flint sand -that can be procured. This comes from Lynn, on the coast of Norfolk. Its -mixture with the other materials is a secret, even to us. We give the -man who possesses it a handsome salary for exercising his mystery." - -"A secret!" cried Mr. Bossle. "Every body, I thought, knew--at least -every body in the drysaltery line understands--what glass is made of. -Why, I can repeat the recipe given by Dr. Ure, from memory: To every -hundred parts of materials, there are of pure sand forty-three parts; -soda twenty-five and a half (by-the-by, we have some capital carbonate -coming forward _ex_ Mary Anne, that we could let you have at a low -figure); quick-lime, four; nitre, one and a half; broken glass, -twenty-six. The doctor calculates, if I remember rightly, that of the -whole, thirty parts of this compound run to waste in fusing so that -seventy per cent. becomes, on an average, glass." - -"That is all very true," was the answer; "but our glass is, we flatter -ourselves, of a much better color, and stands annealing better, than -that made from the ordinary admixture: from which, however, ours differs -but little--only, I think, in the relative quantities. In that lies the -secret." - -Mr. Bossle expressed great anxiety to behold an individual who was -possessed of a secret worth several hundreds a year, paid weekly. -Romance invariably associates itself with mystery; and we are not quite -sure from the awful way in which Mr. Bossle dropped his voice to a soft -whisper, that he did not expect, on entering the chamber of -pre-vitrified chemicals, to find an individual clothed like the hermit -in "Rasselas," or mingling his "elements" with the wand of Hermes -Trismegistus. He looked as if he could hardly believe his spectacles, -when he saw a plain, respectable-looking, indifferent-tempered man, not -a whit more awe-inspiring--or more dusty--than a miller on a market-day. - -We do not insinuate that Mr. Bossle endeavored to "pluck out the heart -of the mystery," though nothing seemed to escape the focus of his -spectacles. But, although here lay, in separate heaps, the sand and soda -and saltpetre and lime and _cullet_, or broken glass; while there, -in a huge trough, those ingredients were mixed up (like "broken" in a -confectioner's shop) ready to be pushed through a trap to fill the -crucible or stomach of the furnace; yet, despite Mr. Bossle's sly -investigations, and sonorous inquiries, he left the hall of "elements" -as wise as he had entered. - -Passing through a variety of places in which the trituration, -purification, and cleaning of the materials were going on, we mounted to -an upper story that reminded us of the yard in which the cunning captain -of the Forty Thieves, when he was disguised as an Oil Merchant, stored -his pretended merchandise. It was filled with rows and rows of great -clay jars, something like barrels with their heads knocked out. Each -had, instead of a hoop, an indented band round the middle, for the -insertion of the iron gear by which they were, in due time, to be lifted -into and out of the raging furnaces. There were two sizes; one about -four feet deep, and three feet six inches in diameter, technically -called "pots," and destined to receive the materials for their first -sweltering. The smaller vessels (_cuvettes_) were of the same shape, but -only two feet six inches deep, and two feet in diameter. These were the -crucibles in which the vitreous compound was to be fired a second time, -ready for casting. These vessels are _built_--for that is really the -process; and it requires a twelvemonth to build one, so gradually must -it settle and harden, and so slowly must it be pieced together, or the -furnace would immediately destroy it--of Stourbridge clay, which is the -purest and least silicious yet discovered. - -"We have now," said Mr. Bossle, wiping his spectacles, and gathering -himself up for a loud Johnsonian period, "seen the raw materials ready -to be submitted to the action of the fire, and we have also beheld the -vessels in which the vitrification is to take place. Let us therefore -witness the actual liquefaction." - -In obedience to this grandiloquent wish, we were shown into the hall of -furnaces. - -It was a sight indeed. A lofty and enormous hall, with windows in the -high walls open to the rainy night. Down the centre, a fearful row of -roaring furnaces, white-hot: to look at which, even through the chinks -in the iron screens before them, and masked, seemed to scorch and -splinter the very breath within one. At right angles with this hall, -another, an immense building in itself, with unearthly-looking -instruments hanging on the walls, and strewn about, as if for some -diabolical cookery. In dark corners, where the furnaces redly glimmered -on them, from time to time, knots of swarthy muscular men, with nets -drawn over their faces, or hanging from their hats: confusedly grouped, -wildly dressed, scarcely heard to mutter amid the roaring of the fires, -and mysteriously coming and going, like picturesque shadows, cast by the -terrific glare. Such figures there must have been, once upon a time, in -some such scene, ministering to the worship of fire, and feeding the -altars of the cruel god with victims. Figures not dissimilar, alas! -there have been, torturing and burning, even in our Saviour's name. But, -happily those bitter days are gone. The senseless world is tortured for -the good of man, and made to take new forms in his service. Upon the -rack, we stretch the ores and metals of the earth, and not the image of -the Creator of all. These fires and figures are the agents of -civilization, and not of deadly persecution and black murder. Burn fires -and welcome! making a light in England that shall not be quenched by all -the monkish dreamers in the world! - -We were aroused by a sensation like the sudden application of a hot mask -to the countenance. As we instinctively placed a hand over our face to -ascertain how much of the skin was peeling off, our cool informant -announced that the furnace over against us had been opened to perform -the _tréjetage_, or ladling of the liquid _pot à feu_ from the -large pots into the smaller ones. "I must premise," he said, "that -one-third of the raw materials, as put together by our secret friend, -are first thrown in; and when that is melted, one-third more; on that -being fused, the last third is added. The mouth of the furnace is then -closed, and an enormous heat kept up by the _tiseur_ or stoker (all -our terms are taken from the French), during sixteen hours. That time -having now elapsed, in the case of the flaming pot before you, the -furnace is opened. The man with the long ladle thrusts it, you perceive, -into the pot, takes out a ladleful, and, by the assistance of two -companions, throws the vitrified dough upon an iron anvil. The other two -men turn it over and over, spread it upon the inverted flat-iron, and -twitch out, with pliers, any speck or impurity; it is tossed again into -the ladle, and thrown into a cuvette in another furnace. When the -cuvettes are full, that furnace is stopped up to maintain a roaring heat -for another eight hours; and, in the language of the men, 'the ceremony -is performed.'" - -At this moment, the noise burst forth from the middle of the enormous -shed, of several beats of a gong: so loud, that they even drowned the -thundering inquiries with which Mr. Bossle was teasing one of the -"teasers." In an instant the men hastened to a focus, like giants in a -Christmas pantomime about to perform some wonderful conjuration; and not -a whisper was heard. - -"Aha!" exclaimed the director, "they are going to cast. This way, -gentlemen!" - -The kitchen in which the Ogre threatened to cook Jack and his seven -brothers could not have been half so formidable an apartment as the -enormous cuisine into which we were led. One end was occupied with a row -of awful ovens; in the midst, stood a stupendous iron table; and upon it -lay a rolling-pin, so big, that it could only be likened to half-a-dozen -garden-rollers joined together at their ends. Above, was an iron crane -or gallows to lift the enormous messes of red-hot gruel, thick and slab, -which were now to be brought from the furnaces. - -"Stand clear!" A huge basin, white with heat, approaches, on a sort of -iron hurley; at one end of which sits, triumphant, a salamander, in -human form, to balance the Plutonian mass, as it approaches on its -wheeled car--playing with it--a game of see-saw. It stops at the foot of -the iron gallows. Mr. Bossle approaches to see what it is, and discovers -it to be a cuvette filled with molten glass, glowing from the fiery -furnace. What is that man doing with a glazed mask before his face? -"Why, if you will believe me," exclaims Mr. Bossle, in the tones of a -speaking-trumpet (we are at a prudent distance), "he is ladling off the -scum, as composedly as if it were turtle-soup!" Mr. Bossle grows bold, -and ventures a little nearer. Rash man! His nose is assuredly scorched; -he darts back, and takes off his spectacles, to ascertain how much of -the frames are melted. The dreadful pot is lifted by the crane. It is -poised immediately over the table; a workman tilts it; and out pours a -cataract of molten opal which spreads itself, deliberately, like -infernal sweet-stuff, over the iron table; which is spilled and slopped -about, in a crowd of men, and touches nobody. "And has touched nobody -since last year, when one poor fellow got the large shoes he wore, -filled with white-hot glass." Then the great rolling-pin begins to "roll -it out." - -But, those two men, narrowly inspecting every inch of the red hot sheet -as the roller approaches it--is their skin salamandrine? are their eyes -fire-proof? - -"They are looking," we are told, "for any accidental impurity that may -be still intruding in the vitrifaction, and, if they can tear it out -with their long pincers before the roller has passed over it, they are -rewarded. From the shape these specks assume in being torn away, they -are called 'tears.'" - -When the roller has passed over the table, it leaves a sheet of red-hot -glass, measuring some twelve feet by seven. - -This translucent confection is pushed upon a flat wooden platform on -wheels--sparkling, as it touches the wood, like innumerable -diamonds--and is then run rapidly to an oven, there to be baked or -annealed. The bed or "sole" of this _carquèse_ is heated to a -temperature exactly equal to that of the glass; which is now so much -cooled that you can stand within a yard or so of it without fear of -scorching off your eyelashes. The pot out of the furnace is cooled, -too, out in the rain, and lies there, burst into a hundred pieces. It -has been a good one: for it has withstood the fire seventy days. - -So rapidly are all these casting operations performed, that, from the -moment when Mr. Bossle thought his spectacles were melting off his nose, -to the moment when the sheet of glass is shut up in the oven, about five -minutes have elapsed. The operations are repeated, until the oven is -full of glass-plates. - -When eight plates are put into the _carquèse_, it is closed up -hermetically; for the tiniest current of cold air would crack the glass. -The fire is allowed to go out of its own accord, and the cooling takes -place so gradually, that it is not completed until eight days are over. -When drawn forth, the glass is that "rough plate" which we see let into -the doors of railway stations, and forming half-transparent floors in -manufactories. To make it completely transparent for windows and -looking-glasses, elaborate processes of grinding and polishing are -requisite. They are three in number: roughing down, smoothing, and -polishing. - -"I perceive," said Mr. Bossle, when he got to the roughing-down room, -where steam machinery was violently agitating numerous plates of glass, -one upon the other, "that the diamond-cut-diamond principle is adopted." - -"Exactly; the under-plate is fastened to a table by plaster-of-paris, -and the upper one--quite rough--is violently rubbed by machinery upon -it, with water, sand, and other grinding-powders between. The top-plate -is then fastened to a table, to rough down another first plate; for the -under one is always the smoother." - -Then comes the "smoothing." Emery, of graduated degrees of fineness, is -used for that purpose. "Until within the last month or so, smoothing -could only be done by human labor. The human hand alone was capable of -the requisite tenacity, to rub the slippery surfaces over each other; -nay, so fine a sense of touch was requisite, that even a man's hand had -scarcely sensitiveness enough for the work; hence females were, and -still are employed." - -As our pains-taking informant spoke, he pushed open a door, and we -beheld a sight that made Mr. Bossle wipe his spectacles, and ourselves -imagine for a moment that a scene from an Oriental story-book was -magically revealed to us; so elegant and graceful were the attitudes -into which a bevy of some fifty females--many of them of fine forms and -handsome features--were unceasingly throwing themselves. Now, with arms -extended, they pushed the plates to one verge of the low tables, -stretching their bodies as far as possible; then, drawing back, they -stood erect, pulling the plate after them; then, in order to reach the -opposite edge of the plane, they stretched themselves out again to an -almost horizontal posture. The easy beauty of their movements, the -glitter of the glass, the brilliancy of the gas-lights, the bright -colors of most of the dresses, formed a _coup d'oeil_ which Mr. -Bossle enjoyed a great deal more than Mrs. Bossle, had she been there, -might have quite approved. - -The fairy scene is soon, however, to disappear. Mr. Blake the ingenious -manager of the works, has invented an artificial female hand, by means -of which, in combination with peculiar machinery, glass smoothing can be -done by steam. The last process is "polishing." This art is practiced in -a spacious room glowing with red. Every corner of the busy interior is -as rubicund as a Dutch dairy. The floor is red, the walls are red, the -ceiling is red, the pillars are red. The machinery is very red. Red -glass is attached, by red plaster of Paris, to red movable tables; red -rubbers of red felt, heavily weighted with red leads, are driven rapidly -over the red surface. Little red boys, redder than the reddest of Red -Indians, are continually sprinkling on the reddened glass, the rouge -(moistened crocus, peroxyde of iron), which converts the scene of their -operations into the most gigantic of known Rubrics. - -When polished, the glass is taken away to be "examined." A body of -vigilant scrutineers place each sheet between their own eyes and a -strong light: wherever a scratch or flaw appears, they make a mark with -a piece of wax. If removable, these flaws are polished out by hand. The -glass is then ready for the operation which enables "the beauty to -behold herself." The spreading of the quicksilver at the back is, -however, a separate process, accomplished elsewhere, and performed by a -perfectly distinct body of workmen. It is a very simple art. - -The manufacture of plate-glass adds another to the thousand and one -instances of the advantages of unrestricted and unfettered trade. The -great demand occasioned by the immediate fall in price consequent upon -the New Tariff, produced this effect on the Thames Plate Glass Works. -They now manufacture as much plate-glass per week as was turned out in -the days of the Excise, in the same time, by all the works in the -country put together. The Excise incubi clogged the operations of the -workmen, and prevented every sort of improvement in the manufacture. -They put their gauges into the "metal" (or mixed materials) before it -was put into the pot. They overhauled the paste when it was taken out of -the fire, and they applied their foot-rules to the sheets after the -glass was annealed. The duty was collected during the various stages of -manufacture half-a-dozen times, and amounted to three hundred per cent. -No improvement was according to law, and the exciseman put his veto upon -every attempt of the sort. In the old time, the mysterious mixer could -not have exercised his secret vocation for the benefit of his employers, -and the demand for glass was so small that Mr. Blake's admirable -polishing machine would never have been invented. Nor could plate-glass -ever have been used for transparent flooring, or for door panels, or -for a hundred other purposes, to which it is now advantageously and -ornamentally applied. - -Thanking the courteous gentlemen who had shown us over the works, we -left Mr. Bossle in close consultation with the manager. As, in crossing -the yard, we heard the word "soda!" frequently thundered forth, we -concluded that the Johnsonian drysalter was endeavoring to complete some -transactions in that commodity, which he had previously opened with the -director. But, it is not in our power to report decisively on this head, -for our attention was directed to two concluding objects. - -First, to a row of workmen--the same we had lately seen among the fires -and liquid glass--good-humoredly sitting, with perfect composure, on a -log of timber, out in the cold and wet, looking at the muddy creek, and -drinking their beer, as if there were no such thing as temperature -known. Secondly, and lastly, to the narrow passages or caves underneath -the furnaces, into which the glowing cinders drop through gratings. -These looked, when we descended into them, like a long Egyptian street -on a dark night, with a fiery rain falling. In warm divergent chambers -and crevices, the boys employed in the works love to hide and sleep, on -cold nights. So slept DE FOE'S hero, COLONEL JACK, among the ashes of -the glass-house where _he_ worked. - -And that, and the river together, made us think of ROBINSON CRUSOE the -whole way home, and wonder what all the English boys who have been since -his time, and who are yet to be, would have done without him and his -desert Island. - - - - -"BIRTHS:--MRS. MEEK, OF A SON."--A PLEA FOR INFANTS. - - -My name is Meek. I am, in fact, Mr. Meek. That son is mine and Mrs. -Meek's. When I saw the announcement in the Times, I dropped the paper. I -had put it in, myself, and paid for it, but it looked so noble that it -overpowered me. - -As soon as I could compose my feelings, I took the paper up to Mrs. -Meek's bedside. "Maria Jane," said I (I allude to Mrs. Meek), "you are -now a public character." We read the review of our child, several times, -with feelings of the strongest emotion; and I sent the boy who cleans -the boots and shoes, to the office, for fifteen copies. No reduction was -made on taking that quantity. - -It is scarcely necessary for me to say, that our child had been -expected. In fact, it had been expected, with comparative confidence, -for some months. Mrs. Meek's mother, who resides with us--of the name of -Bigby--had made every preparation for its admission to our circle. - -I hope and believe I am a quiet man. I will go further. I _know_ I am a -quiet man. My constitution is tremulous, my voice was never loud, and, -in point of stature, I have been from infancy, small. I have the -greatest respect for Maria Jane's mamma. She is a most remarkable woman. -I honor Maria Jane's mamma. In my opinion she would storm a town, -single-handed, with a hearth-broom, and carry it. I have never known her -to yield any point whatever, to mortal man. She is calculated to terrify -the stoutest heart. - -Still--but I will not anticipate. - -The first intimation I had, of any preparations being in progress, on -the part of Maria Jane's mamma, was one afternoon, several months ago. I -came home earlier than usual from the office, and, proceeding into the -dining-room, found an obstruction behind the door, which prevented it -from opening freely. It was an obstruction of a soft nature. On looking -in, I found it to be a female. - -The female in question stood in the corner behind the door, consuming -sherry wine. From the nutty smell of that beverage pervading the -apartment, I had no doubt she was consuming a second glassful. She wore -a black bonnet of large dimensions, and was copious in figure. The -expression of her countenance was severe and discontented. The words to -which she gave utterance on seeing me, were these, "Oh, git along with -you, sir, if _you_ please; me and Mrs. Bigby don't want no male parties -here!" - -That female was Mrs. Prodgit. - -I immediately withdrew, of course. I was rather hurt, but I made no -remark. Whether it was that I showed a lowness of spirits after dinner, -in consequence of feeling that I seemed to intrude, I can not say. But, -Maria Jane's mamma said to me on her retiring for the night, in a low -distinct voice, and with a look of reproach that completely subdued me, -"George Meek, Mrs. Prodgit is your wife's nurse!" - -I bear no ill-will toward Mrs. Prodgit. Is it likely that I, writing -this with tears in my eyes, should be capable of deliberate animosity -toward a female, so essential to the welfare of Maria Jane? I am willing -to admit that Fate may have been to blame, and not Mrs. Prodgit; but, it -is undeniably true, that the latter female brought desolation and -devastation into my lowly dwelling. - -We were happy after her first appearance; we were sometimes exceedingly -so. But, whenever the parlor door was opened, and "Mrs. Prodgit!" -announced (and she was very often announced), misery ensued. I could not -bear Mrs. Prodgit's look. I felt that I was far from wanted, and had no -business to exist in Mrs. Prodgit's presence. Between Maria Jane's -mamma, and Mrs. Prodgit, there was a dreadful, secret understanding--a -dark mystery and conspiracy, pointing me out as a being to be shunned. I -appeared to have done something that was evil. Whenever Mrs. Prodgit -called, after dinner, I retired to my dressing-room--where the -temperature is very low, indeed, in the wintry time of the year--and sat -looking at my frosty breath as it rose before me, and at my rack of -boots: a serviceable article of furniture, but never, in my opinion, an -exhilarating object. The length of the councils that were held with Mrs. -Prodgit, under these circumstances, I will not attempt to describe. I -will merely remark, that Mrs. Prodgit always consumed sherry wine while -the deliberations were in progress; that they always ended in Maria -Jane's being in wretched spirits on the sofa; and that Maria Jane's -mamma always received me, when I was recalled, with a look of desolate -triumph that too plainly said, "_Now_, George Meek! You see my child, -Maria Jane, a ruin, and I hope you are satisfied!" - -I pass, generally, over the period that intervened between the day when -Mrs. Prodgit entered her protest against male parties, and the -ever-memorable midnight when I brought her to my unobtrusive home in a -cab, with an extremely large box on the roof, and a bundle, a bandbox, -and a basket, between the driver's legs. I have no objection to Mrs. -Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby, who I never can forget is the -parent of Maria Jane), taking entire possession of my unassuming -establishment. In the recesses of my own breast, the thought may linger -that a man in possession can not be so dreadful as a woman, and that -woman Mrs. Prodgit: but, I ought to bear a good deal, and I hope I can, -and do. Huffing and snubbing, prey upon my feelings; but I can bear them -without complaint. They may tell in the long run; I may be hustled -about, from post to pillar, beyond my strength; nevertheless, I wish to -avoid giving rise to words in the family. - -The voice of Nature, however, cries aloud in behalf of Augustus George, -my infant son. It is for him that I wish to utter a few plaintive -household words. I am not at all angry; I am mild--but miserable. - -I wish to know why, when my child, Augustus George, was expected in our -circle, a provision of pins was made, as if the little stranger were a -criminal who was to be put to the torture immediately on his arrival, -instead of a holy babe? I wish to know why haste was made to stick those -pins all over his innocent form, in every direction? I wish to be -informed why light and air are excluded from Augustus George, like -poisons? Why, I ask, is my unoffending infant so hedged into a -basket-bedstead, with dimity and calico, with miniature sheets and -blankets, that I can only hear him snuffle (and no wonder!) deep down -under the pink hood of a little bathing-machine, and can never peruse -even so much of his lineaments as his nose. - -Was I expected to be the father of a French Roll, that the brushes of -All Nations were laid in, to rasp Augustus George? Am I to be told that -his sensitive skin was ever intended by Nature to have rashes brought -out upon it, by the premature and incessant use of those formidable -little instruments? - -Is my son a Nutmeg, that he is to be grated on the stiff edges of sharp -frills? Am I the parent of a Muslin boy, that his yielding surface is to -be crimped and small-plaited? Or is my child composed of Paper or of -Linen, that impressions of the finer getting-up art, practiced by the -laundress, are to be printed off, all over his soft arms and legs, as I -constantly observe them? The starch enters his soul; who can wonder that -he cries? - -Was Augustus George intended to have limbs, or to be born a Torso? I -presume that limbs were the intention, as they are the usual practice. -Then, why are my poor child's limbs fettered and tied up? Am I to be -told that there is any analogy between Augustus George Meek, and Jack -Sheppard. - -Analyze Castor Oil at any Institution of Chemistry that may be agreed -upon, and inform me what resemblance, in taste, it bears to that natural -provision which it is at once the pride and duty of Maria Jane to -administer to Augustus George! Yet, I charge Mrs. Prodgit (aided and -abetted by Mrs. Bigby) with systematically forcing Castor Oil on my -innocent son, from the first hour of his birth. When that medicine, in -its efficient action, causes internal disturbance to Augustus George, I -charge Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby) with insanely and -inconsistently administering opium to allay the storm she has raised! -What is the meaning of this? - -If the days of Egyptian Mummies are past, how dare Mrs. Prodgit require, -for the use of my son, an amount of flannel and linen that would carpet -my humble roof? Do I wonder that she requires it? No! This morning, -within an hour, I beheld this agonizing sight. I beheld my son--Augustus -George--in Mrs. - -Prodgit's hands, and on Mrs. Prodgit's knee, being dressed. He was at -the moment, comparatively speaking, in a state of nature; having nothing -on, but an extremely short shirt, remarkably disproportionate to the -length of his usual outer garments. Trailing from Mrs. Prodgit's lap, on -the floor, was a long narrow roller or bandage--I should say, of several -yards in extent. In this, I SAW Mrs. Prodgit tightly roll the body of my -unoffending infant, turning him over and over, now presenting his -unconscious face upward, now the back of his bald head, until the -unnatural feat was accomplished, and the bandage secured by a pin, which -I have every reason to believe entered the body of my only child. In -this tourniquet, he passes the present phase of his existence. Can I -know it, and smile! - -I fear I have been betrayed into expressing myself warmly, but I feel -deeply. Not for myself; for Augustus George. I dare not interfere. Will -any one? Will any publication? Any doctor? Any parent? Any body? I do -not complain that Mrs. Prodgit (aided and abetted by Mrs. Bigby) -entirely alienates Maria Jane's affections from me, and interposes an -impassable barrier between us. I do not complain of being made of no -account. I do not want to be of any account. But Augustus George is a -production of Nature (I can not think otherwise) and I claim that he -should be treated with some remote reference to Nature. In my opinion, -Mrs. Prodgit is, from first to last, a convention and a superstition. -Are all the faculty afraid of Mrs. Prodgit? If not, why don't they take -her in hand and improve her? - -P.S. Maria Jane's mamma boasts of her own knowledge of the subject, and -says she brought up seven children besides Maria Jane. But how do -_I_ know that she might not have brought them up much better? Maria -Jane herself is far from strong, and is subject to headaches, and -nervous indigestion. Besides which, I learn from the statistical tables -that one child in five dies within the first year of its life; and one -child in three within the fifth. That don't look as if we could never -improve in these particulars, I think! - -P.P.S. Augustus George is in convulsions. - - - - -THE FARM-LABORER.--THE FATHER. - - BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. - - -When George Banks was nearly thirty years of age, he married. He had -always been happy, except for one great drawback: and now he hoped to be -happier than ever; and, indeed, he was. The drawback was that his father -drank. Banks had been brought up to expect a little property which -should make life easy to him; but, while still a youth, he gave up all -thought of any property but such as he might earn. He saw every thing -going to ruin at home; and he and his sister, finding that their father -was irreclaimable, resolved to go out and work for themselves, and for -their mother while she lived. The sister went out to service, and Banks -became a farm-laborer. Their father's pride was hurt at their sinking -below the station they were born to; but they were obliged to disregard -his anger when an honest maintenance was in question. There was a -smaller drawback, by the way; Banks was rather deaf, and he thought the -deafness increased a little; but it was not enough to stand in the way -of his employment as a laborer; he could hear the sermon in church; and -Betsy did not mind it, so he did not. He had a good master in old Mr. -Wilkes, a large farmer in a southern county. Mr. Wilkes paid him -12_s._ a week all the year round, and £5 for the harvest month. For -some years Banks laid by a good deal of money; so did Betsy, who was a -housemaid at Mr. Wilkes's. When they became engaged, they had between -them £50 laid by. - -Banks took a cottage of three rooms, with nearly half a rood of -garden-ground. They furnished their house really well, with substantial -new furniture, and enough of it. In those days of high prices it made a -great cut out of their money: but they agreed that they should never -repent it. Banks had the privilege of a run on the common for his cow, -and of as much peat as he chose to cut and carry for fuel. He had seen -the consequences of intemperance in his father's case, and he was a -water-drinker. He seldom touched even beer, except at harvest-time, when -his wife brewed for him, that they might keep clear of the public-house. - -During the whole of their lives to this day (and they are now old) they -have never bought any thing whatever without having the money in their -hands to pay for it. If they had not the money, they no more thought of -having the article than if it had been at the North Pole. They paid £5 a -year for their cottage, and the poor rate has always been from 15_s._ to -20_s._ a year. It was war-time when they married, in 1812; and the dread -came across them now and then, of a recruiting party appearing, or of -Banks being drawn for the militia; but they hoped that the deafness -would save them from this misfortune. And the fear was not for long: in -1814, peace was proclaimed. It was a merry night--that when the great -bonfire was lighted for the peace. Mrs. Banks could not go to see it, -for she was in her second confinement at the time; but her husband came -to her bedside and told her all about it. She had never seen him so gay. -He was always cheerful and sweet-tempered; but he was of a grave cast -of character, which the deafness had deepened into a constant -thoughtfulness. This night, however, he was very talkative, telling her -what good times were coming, now that Bonaparte was put down; how every -man might stay at home at his proper business, and there would be fewer -beggars and lower poor rates, and every thing would go well, with God's -blessing on a nation at peace. The next year there was war again; but, -almost as soon as it was known that Bonaparte had reappeared, the news -came of the battle of Waterloo, and there was an end of all apprehension -of war. - -In eleven years they had eleven children. There was both joy and sorrow -with those children. For seven years, the eldest, little Polly, was -nothing but joy to her parents. She was the prettiest little girl they -had ever seen; and the neighbors thought so too. She was bright and -merry, perfectly obedient, very clever, and so handy that she was a -helpful little maid to her mother. When three infants died, one after -another, her father found comfort in taking this child on his knees in -the evenings, and getting her to prattle to him. Her clear little merry -voice came easily to his ear, when he could not hear older people -without difficulty. The next child, Tom, was a blessing in his way: he -was a strong little fellow of six; and he went out with Banks to the -field, and really did some useful work--frightening the birds, leading -the horses, picking sticks, weeding, running errands, and so on. But the -charm at home was little Polly. When Polly was seven, however, a sad -accident happened. She was taking care of the little ones before the -door, during her mother's confinement, and one of the boys struck her on -the top of the head with a saucepan. She fell, and when she was taken up -she looked so strangely that the doctor was consulted about her. After -watching her for some weeks he said he feared there was some injury to -the brain. Banks has had many troubles in life, but none has been sorer -than that of seeing the change that came over this child. It was not the -loss of her beauty that made his heart ache when he looked in her face: -it was the staring, uneasy expression of countenance which made him turn -his eyes away in pain of heart. She grew jealous and suspicious; and, -though no mood of mind remained many minutes, this was a sad contrast -with the open sweetness of temper that they were never more to see. She -did as she was bid; she went on learning to cook and to sew, and she -could clean the house; but she never remembered from one minute to -another what she was to do, and was always asking questions about things -that she had known all her life. Her uncle (her mother's brother), who -was well off in the world, and had no children, took her home, saying -that change and going to school would make all the difference in her. -But she had no memory, and could learn nothing, while she lost the -mechanical things she could do at home. So, after a patient trial of -three years, her uncle brought her home, and took, in her stead, the -bright little Susan, now four years old. Polly never got better. After a -time, fits of languor came on occasionally, and her mother could not get -her out of bed; and now she sometimes lies for many days together, as in -a swoon, looking like one dying, but always reviving again, though -declining on the whole; so that it is thought it can not now go on very -long. - -Tom never went to school. There was no school within reach, while he was -a very little boy, and when a new clergyman's lady came and set up one, -Tom was thought rather too old to begin; and, besides, his father really -could not spare his earnings. Old Mr. Wilkes was dead, and his son, -succeeding to the farm, complained of bad times, and reduced his -laborers' wages to 11_s._, and then 10_s._, and then 9_s._, while the -poor-rate went on increasing. Tom can not read or write, and his father -is very sorry for it. The boy always seemed, however, to have that -sobriety of mind and good sense which education is thought necessary to -give. The fact is, he has had no mean education in being the associate -of his honorable-minded father. He grew up as grave as his father, -thoughtful and considerate, while very clever. He is a prodigious -worker, gets through more work than any other man in the neighborhood, -and does it in a better manner. Earning in his best days only 9_s._ a -week, and not being sure of that, he has never married, nor thought of -marrying; and a great loss that is to some good woman. - -The school being set up while Harry was a little fellow, he was sent to -it, and he remained at it till he was twelve years old. It was well -meant for him--well meant by the lady and by his parents; but the -schoolmistress "was not equal to her business," as the family mildly -say. Those years were almost entirely lost. Harry was remarkably clever, -always earnest in what he was about, always steady and business-like, -and eager to learn; yet he came away, after all those years, barely able -to spell out a chapter in the Testament on Sundays, and scarcely able to -sign his own name. He tried to use and improve his learning, putting in, -where beans and peas were sown, slips of wood with banes and pase upon -them, and holding a pen with all his force when he wanted to write his -name; but he felt all along that he had better have been obtaining the -knowledge which the earnest mind may gain in the open fields, unless he -had been really well taught. - -By this time there were few at home, and the home had become grave and -somewhat sad. Six children had died in infancy--the oldest dying under -three years old. Susan was at her uncle's, and not likely to come home -again; for her aunt had become insane, and was subject to epilepsy to -such a degree that she could not be left. Some people thought Susan's -prospects very fine, for her uncle promised great things as to providing -for her and leaving her property; but the story of her grandfather was a -warning to her. Her uncle was falling into drinking habits, and this -young girl, supposed to be so fortunate, often found herself with her -aunt on one side in an epileptic fit, and her uncle on the other -helplessly or violently drunk. He was an amiable man, and always, when -remonstrated with, admitted his fault and promised amendment. It ended, -however, in his being reduced in his old age to the point of screwing -out of Susan her earnings at service, under the name of debt, and -finding a home with her old father. Instead of enjoying his money, she -enjoys the comfort of having gloriously discharged her duty to him, and -she seems to be quite content. - -But of the small party at home. The sons did not live at home, but they -were not far off. Their honest faces looked in pretty often, and they -were so good that their father had a constant pride in them. It was -little more than seeing them, for Banks was now so deaf that -conversation was out of the question. He went to church every Sunday, as -he had always done; but every body knew that he did not hear one word of -the service. His wife, exhausted by care and grief for her children, was -too feeble to be much of a companion to him; and many a long night now -he was kept awake by rheumatism. Yet no one ever saw a cross look in -either, or heard a complaining word. Their house was clean; their -clothes were neat; and, somehow or other, they went on paying poor-rate. -One of the daughters says, "We always live very comfortably;" and the -sons were told that, if their employment failed, they were always to -come to their father's for a dinner. Banks worked harder and with more -intenseness of mind at his garden, and they still continued to keep a -pig; so they reckoned upon always having bacon and vegetables--summer -vegetables, at least--upon the table. The youngest daughter lived at -home, and earned a humble subsistence by stay-making and dress-making -for the neighbors. She could read and write well enough to be a comfort -if any letter came from a distance (an incident which, as we shall see, -was hereafter to happen often), and to amuse her mother in illness with -a book. Lizzy was not so clever as her brothers and Susan, but she was a -good girl and a steady worker. - -But soon the second Mr. Wilkes died rather suddenly. Banks's heart sank -at the news. He had been attached to his employer, and valued by him, -though his earnings had been so much reduced; and he had a misgiving -that there would be a change for the worse under the young master. It -was too true. The young master soon began to complain of want of money, -and to turn off his laborers. He told Banks to his face that being now -past sixty, and rheumatic at times, it was impossible that his work -could be worth what it was, and he should have no more than six -shillings a week henceforth. It was a terrible blow; but there was no -help for it. A deaf old man had no chance of getting work in any new -place; and the choice was simply between getting six shillings a week -and being turned off. If his heart was ever weak within him, it must -have been now. His savings were all gone years ago; there was no -security that he would not be turned off any day. His children really -could give him no effectual help; for the sons could not marry, and the -daughters were not fully maintaining themselves. The workhouse was an -intolerable thought to one who had paid rates, as he had done ever since -he married. It was a dark time now, the very darkest. Yet the grave man -lost nothing of his outward composure and gentleness. They were not -without friends. The clergyman had his eye upon them; and Mrs. Wilkes, -the widow, sent for Mrs. Banks once a year to spend two or three days -with her, and talk over old times; and she always sent her guest home -with a new gown. The friendship of some, and the respect of all, were as -hearty as ever. - -Some comfort was near at hand: and out of one comfort grew several. -Susan first found herself well placed; and soon after, and as a -consequence, Harry, and then, and again as a consequence, Tom; and then, -Lizzy. About this, more will be told hereafter. The next thing that -befell was a piece of personal comfort to Banks himself. A deaf lady, at -a distance, sent him an ear-trumpet--with little hope that it would be -of use--so long, and so extremely deaf as he was. He took it to church, -and heard the service for the first time for twenty years. Steady and -composed as he usually was, he now cried for a whole day. After that he -cheered up delightfully; but nothing could make him use his trumpet on -week days. It was too precious for any day but Sundays. When the lady -heard this, she sent him an old shabby one for every day use, and it -makes a great difference in his everyday life. - -Next, the good clergyman found himself able to do something that he had -long and earnestly wished, to let out some allotments to laborers. Banks -obtained one immediately; a quarter of an acre of good land, at a rent -of ten shillings a year. The benefit of this is very great. He is still -strong enough to cultivate it well; and, by his knowledge, as well as -his industry, makes it admirably productive. In the midst of this little -brightening of his prospects, there is one overshadowing fear which it -sickens the heart to hear of; it happened that, by an accident which -need not be detailed, the fact got into print that one of the sons at a -distance had sent some money to his old father. The family were -immediately in terror lest the employer should hear of it, and should -turn off his old servant on the plea that he had other means of -subsistence than his labor. It is not credible that such a thing should -be done in the face of society. It is not credible that any one should -desire to do such a thing. But that the fear should exist is mournful -enough, and tells a significant tale; a tale too significant to need to -be spoken out. - -Banks is, as we have said a silent man. He does not pour out his heart -in speech, as some of us do who have much less in our hearts than he. -And there is surely no need. We want no prompting from him to feel that -wrong must exist somewhere when a glorious integrity, a dignified virtue -like his, has been allied with sinking fortunes through life, and has no -prospect of repose but in the grave. - - - - -JANE ECCLES; OR, CONFESSIONS OF AN ATTORNEY. - - -The criminal business of the office was, during the first three or four -years of our partnership, entirely superintended by Mr. Flint; he being -more _au fait_, from early practice, than myself in the art and -mystery of prosecuting and defending felons, and I was thus happily -relieved of duties which, in the days when George III. was king, were -frequently very oppressive and revolting. The criminal practitioner -dwelt in an atmosphere tainted alike with cruelty and crime, and -pulsating alternately with merciless decrees of death, and the shrieks -and wailings of sentenced guilt. And not always guilt! There exist many -records of proofs, incontestable, but obtained too late, of innocence -having been legally strangled on the gallows in other cases than that of -Eliza Fenning. How could it be otherwise with a criminal code crowded in -every line with penalties of death, nothing but--death? Juster, wiser -times have dawned upon us, in which truer notions prevail of what man -owes to man, even when sitting in judgment on transgressors; and this we -owe, let us not forget, to the exertions of a band of men who, -undeterred by the sneers of the reputedly wise and _practical_ men -of the world, and the taunts of "influential" newspapers, persisted in -teaching that the rights of property could be more firmly cemented than -by the shedding of blood--law, justice, personal security more -effectually vindicated than by the gallows. Let me confess that I also -was, for many years, among the mockers, and sincerely held such -"theorists" and "dreamers" as Sir Samuel Romilly and his fellow-workers -in utter contempt. Not so my partner Mr. Flint. Constantly in the -presence of criminal judges and juries, he had less confidence in the -unerring verity of their decisions than persons less familiar with them, -or who see them only through the medium of newspapers. Nothing could -exceed his distress of mind if, in cases in which he was prosecuting -attorney, a convict died persisting in his innocence, or without a full -confession of guilt. And to such a pitch did this morbidly-sensitive -feeling at length arrive, that he all at once refused to undertake, or -in any way meddle with, criminal prosecutions, and they were -consequently turned over to our head clerk, with occasional assistance -from me if there happened to be a press of business of the sort. Mr. -Flint still, however, retained a monopoly of the _defenses_, except -when, from some temporary cause or other, he happened to be otherwise -engaged, when they fell to me. One of these I am about to relate, the -result of which, whatever other impression it produced, thoroughly cured -me--as it may the reader--of any propensity to sneer or laugh at -criminal-law reformers and denouncers of the gallows. - -One forenoon, during the absence of Mr. Flint in Wiltshire, a Mrs. -Margaret Davies called at the office, in apparently great distress of -mind. This lady, I must premise, was an old, or at all events an elderly -maiden, of some four-and-forty years of age--I have heard a very -intimate female friend of hers say she would never see fifty again, but -this was spite--and possessed of considerable house property in rather -poor localities. She found abundant employment for energies which might -otherwise have turned to cards and scandal, in collecting her weekly, -monthly, and quarterly rents, and in promoting, or fancying she did, the -religious and moral welfare of her tenants. Very barefaced, I well knew, -were the impositions practiced upon her credulous good-nature in money -matters, and I strongly suspected the spiritual and moral promises and -performances of her motley tenantry exhibited as much discrepancy as -those pertaining to rent. Still, deceived or cheated as she might be, -good Mrs. Davies never wearied in what she conceived to be well-doing, -and was ever ready to pour balm and oil into the wounds of the sufferer, -however self-inflicted or deserved. - -"What is the matter now?" I asked as soon as the good lady was seated, -and had untied and loosened her bonnet, and thrown back her shawl, fast -walking having heated her prodigiously. "Nothing worse than -transportation is, I hope, likely to befall any of those interesting -clients of yours?" - -"You are a hard-hearted man, Mr. Sharp," replied Mrs. Davies between a -smile and a cry; "but being a lawyer, that is of course natural, and, as -I am not here to consult you as a Christian, of no consequence." - -"Complimentary, Mrs. Davies; but pray go on." - -"You know Jane Eccles, one of my tenants in Bank Buildings: the -embroidress who adopted her sister's orphan child?" - -"I remember her name. She obtained, if I recollect rightly, a balance of -wages for her due to the child's father, a mate, who died at sea. Well, -what has befallen her?" - -"A terrible accusation has been preferred against her," rejoined Mrs. -Davies; "but as for a moment believing it, that is quite out of the -question. Jane Eccles," continued the warm-hearted lady, at the same -time extracting a crumpled newspaper from the miscellaneous contents of -her reticule--"Jane Eccles works hard from morning till night, keeps -herself to herself; her little nephew and her rooms are always as clean -and nice as a new pin; she attends church regularly; and pays her rent -punctually to the day. This disgraceful story, therefore," she added, -placing the journal in my hands, "_can not_ be true." - -I glanced over the police news: "Uttering forged Bank-of-England notes, -knowing them to be forged," I exclaimed, "The devil!" - -"There's no occasion to be spurting that name out so loudly, Mr. Sharp," -said Mrs. Davies with some asperity, "especially in a lawyer's office. -People have been wrongfully accused before to-day, I suppose?" - -I was intent on the report, and not answering, -she continued, "I heard nothing of it till I read the shameful account -in the paper half an hour agone. The poor slandered girl was, I daresay, -afraid or ashamed to send for me." - -"This appears to be a very bad case, Mrs. Davies," I said at length. -"Three forged ten-pound notes changed in one day at different shops each -time, under the pretense of purchasing articles of small amount, and -another ten-pound note found in her pocket! All that has, I must say, a -very ugly look." - -"I don't care," exclaimed Mrs. Davies, quite fiercely, "if it looks as -ugly as sin, or if the whole Bank of England was found in her pocket! I -know Jane Eccles well: she nursed me last spring through the fever; and -I would be upon my oath that the whole story, from beginning to end, is -an invention of the devil, or something worse!" - -"Jane Eccles," I persisted, "appears to have been unable or unwilling to -give the slightest explanation as to how she became possessed of the -spurious notes. Who is this brother of hers, 'of such highly-respectable -appearance,' according to the report, who was permitted a private -interview with her previous to the examination?" - -"She has no brother that I have ever heard of," said Mrs. Davies. "It -must be a mistake of the papers." - -"That is not likely. You observed, of course, that she was fully -committed--and no wonder!" - -Mrs. Davies's faith in the young woman's integrity was not to be shaken -by any evidence save that of her own bodily eyes, and I agreed to see -Jane Eccles on the morrow, and make the best arrangements for the -defense--at Mrs. Davies's charge--which the circumstances and the short -time I should have for preparation--the Old Bailey session would be on -in a few days--permitted. The matter so far settled, Mrs. Margaret -hurried off to see what had become of little Henry, the prisoner's -nephew. - -I visited Jane Eccles the next day in Newgate. She was a well-grown -young woman of about two or three-and-twenty--not exactly pretty, -perhaps, but very well-looking. Her brown hair was plainly worn, without -a cap, and the expression of her face was, I thought, one of sweetness -and humility, contradicted in some degree by rather harsh lines about -the mouth, denoting strong will and purpose. As a proof of the existence -of this last characteristic, I may here mention that when her first -overweening confidence had yielded to doubt, she, although dotingly-fond -of her nephew, at this time about eight years of age, firmly refused to -see him, "in order," she once said to me, and the thought brought a -deadly pallor to her face--"in order that, should the worst befall, her -memory might not be involuntarily connected in his mind with images of -dungeons, and disgrace, and shame." Jane Eccles had received what is -called in the country "a good schooling," and the books Mrs. Davies had -lent her she had eagerly perused. She was, therefore, to a certain -extent, a cultivated person; and her speech and manners were mild, -gentle, and, so to speak, religious. I generally found, when I visited -her, a Bible or prayer-book in her hand. This, however, from my -experience, comparatively slight though it was, did not much impress me -in her favor--devotional sentiment, so easily, for a brief time, -assumed, being, in nine such cases out of ten, a hypocritical deceit. -Still she, upon the whole, made a decidedly favorable impression on me, -and I no longer so much wondered at the bigotry of unbelief manifested -by Mrs. Davies in behalf of her apparently amiable and grateful -protégée. - -But beyond the moral doubt thus suggested of the prisoner's guilt, my -interviews with her utterly failed to extract any thing from her in -rebutment of the charge upon which she was about to be arraigned. At -first she persisted in asserting that the prosecution was based upon -manifest error; that the impounded notes, instead of being forged, were -genuine Bank-of-England paper. It was some time before I succeeded in -convincing her that this hope, to which she so eagerly, desperately -clung, was a fallacious one. I did so at last; and either, thought I, as -I marked her varying color and faltering voice, "either you are a -consummate actress, or else the victim of some frightful delusion or -conspiracy." - -"I will see you, if you please, to-morrow," she said, looking up from -the chair upon which, with her head bowed and her face covered with her -hands, she had been seated for several minutes in silence. "My thoughts -are confused now, but to-morrow I shall be more composed; better able to -decide if--to talk, I mean, of this unhappy business." - -I thought it better to comply without remonstrance, and at once took my -leave. - -When I returned the next afternoon, the governor of the prison informed -me that the brother of my client, James Eccles, quite a dashing -gentleman, had had a long interview with her. He had left about two -hours before, with the intention, he said, of calling upon me. - -I was conducted to the room where my conferences with the prisoner -usually took place. In a few minutes she appeared, much flushed and -excited, it seemed to be alternately with trembling joy, and hope, and -doubt, and nervous fear. - -"Well," I said, "I trust you are now ready to give me your unreserved -confidence, without which, be assured, that any reasonable hope of a -successful issue from the peril in which you are involved is out of the -question." - -The varying emotions I have noticed were clearly traceable as they swept -over her telltale countenance during the minute or so that elapsed -before she spoke. - -"Tell me candidly, sir," she said at last, "whether, if I owned to you -that the notes were given to me by a--a person, whom I can not, if I -would, produce, to purchase various articles at different shops, and -return him--the person I mean--the change; and that I made oath this -was done by me in all innocence of heart, as the God of heaven and earth -truly knows it was, it would avail me?" - -"Not in the least," I replied, angry at such trifling. "How can you ask -such a question? We must _find_ the person who, you intimate, has -deceived you, and placed your life in peril; and if that can be proved, -hang him instead of you. I speak plainly, Miss Eccles," I added, in a -milder tone; "perhaps you may think unfeelingly, but there is no further -time for playing with this dangerous matter. To-morrow a true-bill will -be found against you, and your trial may then come on immediately. If -you are careless for yourself, you ought to have some thought for the -sufferings of your excellent friend Mrs. Davies; for your nephew, soon, -perhaps, to be left friendless and destitute." - -"Oh, spare me--spare me!" sobbed the unhappy young woman, sinking -nervelessly into a seat. "Have pity upon me, wretched, bewildered as I -am!" Tears relieved her; and, after a while, she said: "It is useless, -sir, to prolong this interview. I could not, I solemnly assure you, if I -would, tell you where to search for, or find the person of whom I spoke. -And," she added, while the lines about her mouth of which I have spoken -grew distinct and rigid, "I would not, if I could. What, indeed, would -it, as I have been told and believe, avail, but to cause the death of -two deceived, innocent persons, instead of one? Besides," she continued, -trying to speak with firmness, and repress the shudder which crept over -and shook her as with ague--"besides, whatever the verdict, the penalty -will not, can not, I am sure, I know, be--be--" - -I understood her plainly enough, although her resolution failed to -sustain her through the sentence. - -"Who is this brother, James Eccles he calls himself, whom you saw at the -police-office, and who has twice been here, I understand--once to-day?" - -A quick start revealed the emotion with which she heard the question, -and her dilated eyes rested upon me for a moment with eager scrutiny. -She speedily recovered her presence of mind, and, with her eyes again -fixed on the floor, said, in a quivering voice: "My brother! Yes--as you -say--my brother!" - -"Mrs. Davies says you have no brother!" I sharply rejoined. - -"Good Mrs. Davies," she replied, in a tone scarcely above a whisper, and -without raising her head, "does not know all our family." - -A subterfuge was, I was confident, concealed in these words; but after -again and again urging her to confide in me, and finding warning and -persuasion alike useless, I withdrew discomfited and angry; and withal -as much concerned and grieved as baffled and indignant. On going out, I -arranged with the governor that the "brother," if he again made his -appearance, should be detained _bongrè malgrè_, till my arrival. -Our precaution was too late: he did not reappear; and so little notice -had any one taken of his person, that to advertise a description of him -with a reward for his apprehension was hopeless. - -A true bill was found, and two hours afterward Jane Eccles was placed in -the dock. The trial did not last more than twenty minutes, at the end of -which, an unhesitating verdict of guilty was returned, and she was duly -sentenced to be hanged by the neck till she was dead. We had retained -the ablest counsel practicing in the court, but, with no tangible -defense, their efforts were merely thrown away. Upon being asked what -she had to say why the sentence of the law should not be carried into -effect, she repeated her previous statement--that the notes had been -given her to change by a person in whom she reposed the utmost -confidence; and that she had not the slightest thought of evil or fraud -in what she did. That person, however, she repeated once more, could not -be produced. Her assertions only excited a derisive smile; and all -necessary forms having been gone through, she was removed from the bar. - -The unhappy woman bore the ordeal through which she had just passed with -much firmness. Once only, while sentence was being passed, her -high-strung resolution appeared to falter and give way. I was watching -her intently, and I observed that she suddenly directed a piercing look -toward a distant part of the crowded court. In a moment her eye -lightened, the expression of extreme horror which had momently darkened -her countenance passed away, and her partial composure returned. I had -instinctively, as it were, followed her glance, and thought I detected a -tall man, enveloped in a cloak, engaged in dumb momentary communication -with her. I jumped up from my seat, and hastened as quickly as I could -through the thronged passages to the spot, and looked eagerly around, -but the man, whosoever he might be, was gone. - -The next act in this sad drama was the decision of the Privy Council -upon the recorder's report. It came. Several were reprieved, but among -them was _not_ Jane Eccles. She and nine others were to perish at -eight o'clock on the following morning. - -The anxiety and worry inseparable from this most unhappy affair, which -from Mr. Flint's protracted absence, I had exclusively to bear, fairly -knocked me up, and on the evening of the day on which the decision of -the council was received, I went to bed much earlier than usual, and -really ill. Sleep I could not, and I was tossing restlessly about, -vainly endeavoring to banish from my mind the gloomy and terrible images -connected with the wretched girl and her swiftly-coming fate, when a -quick tap sounded on the door, and a servant's voice announced that one -of the clerks had brought a letter which the superscription directed to -be read without a moment's delay. I sprang out of bed, snatched the -letter, and eagerly ran it over. It was from the Newgate chaplain, a -very worthy, humane gentleman, and stated that, on hearing the result -of the deliberations of the Privy Council, all the previous stoicism and -fortitude exhibited by Jane Eccles had completely given way, and she had -abandoned herself to the wildest terror and despair. As soon as she -could speak coherently, she implored the governor with frantic -earnestness to send for me. As this was not only quite useless in the -opinion of that official, but against the rules, the prisoner's request -was not complied with. The chaplain, however, thinking it might be as -well that I should know of her desire to see me, had of his own accord -sent me this note. He thought that possibly the sheriffs would permit me -to have a brief interview with the condemned prisoner in the morning, if -I arrived sufficiently early; and although it could avail nothing as -regarded her fate in this world, still it might perhaps calm the -frightful tumult of emotion by which she was at present tossed and -shaken, and enable her to meet the inevitable hour with fortitude and -resignation. - -It was useless to return to bed after receiving such a communication, -and I forthwith dressed myself, determined to sit up and read, if I -could, till the hour at which I might hope to be admitted to the jail -should strike. Slowly and heavily the dark night limped away, and as the -first rays of the cold wintry dawn reached the earth, I sallied forth. A -dense, brutal crowd were already assembled in front of the prison, and -hundreds of well-dressed sight-seers occupied the opposite windows, -morbidly eager for the rising of the curtain upon the mournful tragedy -about to be enacted. I obtained admission without much difficulty, but, -till the arrival of the sheriffs, no conference with the condemned -prisoners could be possibly permitted. Those important functionaries -happened on this morning to arrive unusually late, and I paced up and -down the paved corridor in a fever of impatience and anxiety. They were -at last announced, but before I could, in the hurry and confusion, -obtain speech of either of them, the dismal bell tolled out, and I felt -with a shudder that it was no longer possible to effect my object. -"Perhaps it is better so," observed the reverend chaplain in a whisper. -"She has been more composed for the last two or three hours, and is now, -I trust, in a better frame of mind for death." I turned, sick at heart, -to leave the place, and in my agitation missing the right way, came -directly in view of the terrible procession. Jane Eccles saw me, and a -terrific scream, followed by frantic heart-rending appeals to me to save -her, burst with convulsive effort from her white quivering lips. Never -will the horror of that moment pass from my remembrance. I staggered -back, as if every spasmodic word struck me like a blow; and then, -directed by one of the turnkeys, sped in an opposite direction as fast -as my trembling limbs could carry me--the shrieks of the wretched -victim, the tolling of the dreadful bell, and the obscene jeers and -mocks of the foul crowd through which I had to force my way, evoking a -confused tumult of disgust and horror in my brain, which, if long -continued, would have driven me mad. On reaching home, I was bled -freely, and got to bed. This treatment, I have no doubt, prevented a -violent access of fever; for, as it was, several days passed before I -could be safely permitted to re-engage in business. - -On revisiting the office, a fragment of a letter written by Jane Eccles -a few hours previous to her death, and evidently addressed to Mrs. -Davies, was placed by Mr. Flint, who had by this time returned, before -me. The following is an exact copy of it, with the exception that the -intervals which I have marked with dots, . . . . . were filled with -erasures and blots, and that every word seemed to have been traced by a -hand smitten with palsy: - - "From my Death-place, _Midnight_. - -"DEAR MADAM--No, beloved friend, mother let me call you . . . . -. . Oh, kind, gentle mother, I am to die . . . . . to be killed in a few -hours by cruel man!--I, so young, so unprepared for death, and yet -guiltless! Oh, never doubt that I am guiltless of the offense for which -they will have the heart to hang me . . . . . Nobody, they say, can save -me now; yet if I could see the lawyer . . . . I have been deceived, -cruelly deceived, madam--buoyed up by lying hopes, till just now the -thunder burst, and I--oh God! . . . . As they spoke, the fearful chapter -in the Testament came bodily before me--the rending of the vail in -twain, the terrible darkness, and the opened graves! . . . . I did not -write for this, but my brain aches and dazzles . . . . It is too -late--too late, they all tell me! . . . . . Ah, if these dreadful laws -were not so swift, I might yet--but no; _he_ clearly proved to me -how useless . . . . . I must not think of that . . . . . It is of my -nephew, of your Henry, child of my affections, that I would speak. Oh, -that I . . . . . But hark!--they are coming . . . . . The day has dawned -. . . . . to me the day of judgment! . . . . . ." - -This incoherent scrawl only confirmed my previous suspicions, but it was -useless to dwell further on the melancholy subject. The great ax had -fallen, and whether justly or unjustly, would, I feared, as in many, -very many other cases, never be clearly ascertained in this world. I was -mistaken. Another case of "uttering forged Bank-of-England notes, -knowing them to be forged," which came under our cognizance a few months -afterward, revived the fading memory of Jane Eccles's early doom, and -cleared up every obscurity connected with it. - -The offender in this new case was a tall, dark-complexioned, handsome -man, of about thirty years of age, of the name of Justin Arnold. His -lady mother, whose real name I shall conceal under that of Barton, -retained us for her son's defense, and from her and other sources we -learned the following particulars: - -Justin Arnold was the lady's son by a former marriage. Mrs. Barton, -still a splendid woman, had, in second nuptials, espoused a very wealthy -person, and from time to time had covertly supplied Justin Arnold's -extravagance. This, however, from the wild course the young man pursued, -could not be for ever continued, and after many warnings, the supplies -were stopped. Incapable of reformation, Justin Arnold, in order to -obtain the means of dissipation, connected himself with a -cleverly-organized band of swindlers and forgers, who so adroitly -managed their nefarious business, that, till his capture, they had -contrived to keep themselves clear of the law--the inferior tools and -dupes having been alone caught in its fatal meshes. The defense, under -these circumstances necessarily a difficult, almost impossible one, was -undertaken by Mr. Flint, and conducted by him with his accustomed skill -and energy. - -I took a very slight interest in the matter, and heard very little -concerning it till its judicial conclusion by the conviction of the -offender, and his condemnation to death. The decision on the recorder's -report was this time communicated to the authorities of Newgate on a -Saturday, so that the batch ordered for execution, among whom was Justin -Arnold, would not be hanged till the Monday morning. Rather late in the -evening a note once more reached me from the chaplain of the prison. -Justin Arnold wished to see me--_me_, not Mr. Flint. He had -something of importance to communicate, he said, relative to a person in -whom I had once felt great interest. It flashed across me that this -Justin might be the "brother" of Jane Eccles, and I determined to see -him. I immediately sought out one of the sheriffs, and obtained an order -empowering me to see the prisoner on the afternoon of the morrow -(Sunday.) - -I found that the convict expressed great anxiety lest I should decline -to see him. My hoped-for visit was the only matter which appeared to -occupy the mind or excite the care of the mocking, desperate young man; -even the early and shameful termination of his own life on the morrow he -seemed to be utterly reckless of. Thus prepared, I was the less -surprised at the scene which awaited me in the prisoner's cell, where I -found him in angry altercation with the pale, affrighted chaplain. - -I had never seen Justin Arnold before; this I was convinced of the -instant I saw him; but he knew, and greeted me instantly by name. His -swarthy, excited features were flushed and angry, and after briefly -thanking me for complying with his wishes, he added in a violent, rapid -tone, "This good man has been teasing me. He says, and truly, that I -have defied God by my life; and now he wishes me to mock that -inscrutable Being, on the eve of death, by words without sense, meaning, -or truth!" - -"No, no, no!" ejaculated the reverend gentleman. "I exhorted you to true -repentance, to peace, charity, to--" - -"True repentance, peace, charity!" broke in the prisoner with a scornful -burst: "when my heart is full of rage, and bitterness, and despair! Give -me _time_ for this repentance which you say is so needful--time to -lure back long since banished hope, and peace, and faith! Poh!--you but -flout me with words without meaning. I am unfit, you say, for the -presence of men, but quite fit for that of God, before whom you are -about to arrogantly cast me! Be it so: my deeds upon my head! It is at -least not my fault that I am hurled to judgment before the Eternal Judge -himself commanded my presence there!" - -"He may be unworthy to live," murmured the scared chaplain, "but, oh, -how utterly unfit to die!" - -"That is true," rejoined Justin Arnold with undiminished vehemence. -"Those, if you will, are words of truth and sense: go you and preach -them to the makers and executioners of English law. In the mean time I -would speak privately with this gentleman." - -The reverend pastor, with a mute gesture of compassion, sorrow, and -regret, was about to leave the cell, when he was stayed by the prisoner, -who exclaimed, "Now I think of it, you had better, sir, remain. The -statement I am about to make can not, for the sake of the victim's -reputation, and for her friends' sake, have too many witnesses. You both -remember Jane Eccles?" A broken exclamation from both of us answered -him, and he quickly added--"Ah, you already guess the truth, I see. -Well, I do not wonder you should start and turn pale. It _was_ a -cruel, shameless deed--a dastardly murder, if there was ever one. In as -few words as possible, so you interrupt me not, I will relate _my_ -share in the atrocious business." He spoke rapidly, and once or twice -during the brief recital the moistened eye and husky voice betrayed -emotions which his pride would have concealed. - -"Jane and I were born in Hertfordshire, within a short distance of each -other. I knew her from a child. She was better off then, I worse than we -subsequently became--she by her father's bankruptcy, I by my mo--, by -Mrs. Barton's wealthy marriage. She was about nineteen, I twenty-four, -when I left the country for London. That she loved me with all the -fervor of a trusting woman I well knew; and I had, too, for some time -known that she must be either honorably wooed or not at all. That with -me was out of the question, and, as I told you, I came about that time -to London. You can, I daresay, imagine the rest. We were--I and my -friends I mean--at a loss for agents to dispose of our wares, and at the -same time pressed for money. I met Jane Eccles by accident. Genteel, of -graceful address and winning manners, she was just fitted for our -purpose. I feigned reawakened love, proffered marriage, and a home -across the Atlantic, as soon as certain trifling but troublesome affairs -which momently harassed me were arranged. She believed me. I got her to -change a considerable number of notes under various pretexts, but that -they were forged she had not and could not have the remotest suspicion. -You know the catastrophe. After her apprehension I visited this prison as her brother, and buoyed -her up to the last with illusions of certain pardon and release, -whatever the verdict, through the influence of my wealthy father-in-law, -of our immediate union afterward, and tranquil American home. It is -needless to say more. She trusted me, and I sacrificed her--less -flagrant instances of a like nature occur every day. And now, gentlemen, -I would fain be alone." - -"Remorseless villain!" I could not exclaiming under my breath as he -moved away. - -He turned quickly back, and looking me in the face, without the -slightest anger said, "An execrable villain if you like--not a -remorseless one! Her death alone sits near, and troubles my to all else -hardened conscience. And let me tell you, reverend sir," he continued, -resuming his former bitterness as he addressed the chaplain--"let me -tell you that it was not the solemn words of the judge the other day, -but her pale, reproachful image, standing suddenly beside me in the -dock, just as she looked when I passed my last deception on her, that -caused the tremor and affright, complacently attributed by that grave -functionary to his own sepulchral eloquence. After all, her death can -not be exclusively laid to my charge. Those who tried her would not -believe her story, and yet it was true as death. Had they not been so -confident in their own unerring wisdom, they might have doomed her to -some punishment short of the scaffold, and could now have retrieved -their error. But I am weary, and would, I repeat, be alone. Farewell!" -He threw himself on the rude pallet, and we silently withdrew. - -A paper embodying Justin Arnold's declaration was forwarded to the -secretary of state, and duly acknowledged, accompanied by an official -expression of mild regret that it had not been in time to save the life -of Jane Eccles. No further notice was taken of the matter, and the -record of the young woman's judicial sacrifice still doubtless encumbers -the archives of the Home Office, forming, with numerous others of like -character, the dark, sanguine background upon which the achievements of -the great and good men who have so successfully purged the old Draco -code that now a faint vestige only of the old barbarism remains, stand -out in bright relief and changeless lustre. - - - - -MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE. - - (_Continued from page 543._) - - - - -BOOK IV.--INITIAL CHAPTER:--COMPRISING MR. CAXTON'S OPINIONS ON THE -MATRIMONIAL STATE, SUPPORTED BY LEARNED AUTHORITIES. - - -"It was no bad idea of yours, Pisistratus," said my father, graciously, -"to depict the heightened affections and the serious intentions of -Signior Riccabocca by a single stroke--_He left off his -spectacles!_ Good." - -"Yet," quoth my uncle, "I think Shakspeare represents a lover as falling -into slovenly habits, neglecting his person, and suffering his hose to -be ungartered, rather than paying that attention to his outer man which -induces Signor Riccabocca to leave off his spectacles, and look as -handsome as nature will permit him." - -"There are different degrees and many phases of the passion," replied my -father. "Shakspeare is speaking of an ill-treated, pining, woebegone -lover, much aggrieved by the cruelty of his mistress--a lover who has -found it of no avail to smarten himself up, and has fallen despondently -into the opposite extreme. Whereas Signor Riccabocca has nothing to -complain of in the barbarity of Miss Jemima." - -"Indeed he has not!" cried Blanche, tossing her head--"forward -creature!" - -"Yes, my dear," said my mother, trying her best to look stately, "I am -decidedly of opinion that, in that respect, Pisistratus has lowered the -dignity of the sex. Not intentionally," added my mother, mildly, and -afraid she had said something too bitter; "but it is very hard for a man -to describe us women." - -The Captain nodded approvingly; Mr. Squills smiled; my father quietly -resumed the thread of his discourse. - -"To continue," quoth he. "Riccabocca has no reason to despair of success -in his suit, nor any object in moving his mistress to compassion. He -may, therefore, very properly tie up his garters and leave off his -spectacles. What do you say, Mr. Squills?--for, after all, since -love-making can not fail to be a great constitutional derangement, the -experience of a medical man must be the best to consult." - -"Mr. Caxton," replied Squills, obviously flattered, "you are quite -right: when a man makes love, the organs of self-esteem and desire of -applause are greatly stimulated, and therefore, of course, he sets -himself off to the best advantage. It is only, as you observe, when, -like Shakspeare's lover, he has given up making love as a bad job, and -has received that severe hit on the ganglions which the cruelty of a -mistress inflicts, that he neglects his personal appearance: he neglects -it, not because he is in love, but because his nervous system is -depressed. That was the cause, if you remember, with poor Major Prim. He -wore his wig all awry when Susan Smart jilted him; but I set it all -right for him." - -"By shaming Miss Smart into repentance, or getting him a new -sweetheart?" asked my uncle. - -"Pooh!" answered Squills, "by quinine and cold bathing." - -"We may therefore grant," renewed my father, "that, as a general rule, -the process of courtship tends to the spruceness, and even foppery, of -the individual engaged in the experiment, as Voltaire has very prettily -proved somewhere. Nay, the Mexicans, indeed, were of opinion that the -lady, at least, ought to continue those cares of her person even after -marriage. There is extant, in Sahagun's _History of New Spain_, the -advice of an Aztec or Mexican mother to her daughter, in which she -says--'That your husband may not take you in dislike, adorn yourself, -wash yourself, and let your garments be clean.' It is true that the good -lady adds--'Do it in moderation; since, if every day you are -washing yourself and your clothes, the world will say that you are -over-delicate; and particular people will call you--TAPETZON -TINEMAXOCH!' What those words precisely mean," added my father, -modestly, "I can not say, since I never had the opportunity to acquire -the ancient Aztec language--but something very opprobrious and horrible, -no doubt." - -"I daresay a philosopher like Signor Riccabocca," said my uncle, "was -not himself very _Tapetzon tine_--what d'ye call it?--and a good, -healthy, English wife, like that poor affectionate Jemima, was thrown -away upon him." - -"Roland," said my father, "you don't like foreigners: a respectable -prejudice, and quite natural in a man who has been trying his best to -hew them in pieces, and blow them up into splinters. But you don't like -philosophers either--and for that dislike you have no equally good -reason." - -"I only implied that they were not much addicted to soap and water," -said my uncle. - -"A notable mistake. Many great philosophers have been very great beaux. -Aristotle was a notorious fop. Buffon put on his best laced ruffles when -he sat down to write, which implies that he washed his hands first. -Pythagoras insists greatly on the holiness of frequent ablutions; and -Horace--who, in his own way, was as good a philosopher as any the Romans -produced--takes care to let us know what a neat, well-dressed, dapper -little gentleman he was. But I don't think you ever read the 'Apology of -Apuleius?'" - -"Not I--what is it about?" asked the Captain. - -"About a great many things. It is that Sage's vindication from several -malignant charges--among others, and principally indeed, that of being -much too refined and effeminate for a philosopher. Nothing can -exceed the rhetorical skill with which he excuses himself for -using--tooth-powder. 'Ought a philosopher,' he exclaims, 'to allow any -thing unclean about him, especially in the mouth--the mouth, which is -the vestibule of the soul, the gate of discourse, the portico of -thought! Ah, but Æmilianus [the accuser of Apuleius] never opens -_his_ mouth but for slander and calumny--tooth-powder would indeed -be unbecoming to _him_! Or, if he use any, it will not be my good -Arabian tooth-powder, but charcoal and cinders. Ay, his teeth should be -as foul as his language! And yet even the crocodile likes to have his -teeth cleaned; insects get into them, and, horrible reptile though he -be, he opens his jaws inoffensively to a faithful dentistical bird, who -volunteers his beak for a toothpick.'" - -My father was now warm in the subject he had started, and soared -miles away from Riccabocca and "My Novel." "And observe," he -exclaimed--"observe with what gravity this eminent Platonist pleads -guilty to the charge of having a mirror. 'Why, what,' he exclaims, 'more -worthy of the regards of a human creature than his own image' (_nihil -respectabilius homini quam formam suam!_) Is not that one of our -children the most dear to us who is called 'the picture of his father?' -But take what pains you will with a picture, it can never be so like you -as the face in your mirror! Think it discreditable to look with proper -attention on one's self in the glass! Did not Socrates recommend such -attention to his disciples--did he not make a great moral agent of the -speculum? The handsome, in admiring their beauty therein, were -admonished that handsome is who handsome does; and the more the ugly -stared at themselves, the more they became naturally anxious to hide the -disgrace of their features in the loveliness of their merits. Was not -Demosthenes always at his speculum? Did he not rehearse his causes -before it as before a master in the art? He learned his eloquence from -Plato, his dialectics from Eubulides; but as for his delivery--there, he -came to the mirror! - -"Therefore," concluded Mr. Caxton, returning unexpectedly to the -subject--"therefore it is no reason to suppose that Dr. Riccabocca is -averse to cleanliness and decent care of the person, because he is a -philosopher; and, all things considered, he never showed himself more a -philosopher than when he left off his spectacles and looked his best." - -"Well," said my mother, kindly, "I only hope it may turn out happily. -But I should have been better pleased if Pisistratus had not made Dr. -Riccabocca so reluctant a wooer." - -"Very true," said the Captain; "the Italian does not shine as a lover. -Throw a little more fire into him, Pisistratus--something gallant and -chivalrous." - -"Fire--gallantry--chivalry!" cried my father, who had taken Riccabocca -under his special protection--"why, don't you see that the man is -described as a philosopher?--and I should like to know when a -philosopher ever plunged into matrimony without considerable misgivings -and cold shivers. Indeed, it seems that--perhaps before he was a -philosopher--Riccabocca _had_ tried the experiment, and knew what -it was. Why, even that plain-speaking, sensible, practical man, Metellus -Numidicus, who was not even a philosopher, but only a Roman Censor, thus -expressed himself in an exhortation to the People to perpetrate -matrimony--'If, O Quirites, we could do without wives, we should all -dispense with that subject of care (_eâ molestiâ careremus_); but -since nature has so managed it, that we can not live with women -comfortably, nor without them at all, let us rather provide for the -human race than our own temporary felicity." - -Here the ladies set up a cry of such indignation, -that both Roland and myself endeavored to appease their wrath by hasty -assurances that we utterly repudiated that damnable doctrine of Metellus -Numidicus. - -My father, wholly unmoved, as soon as a sullen silence was established, -recommenced--"Do not think, ladies," said he, "that you were without -advocates at that day: there were many Romans gallant enough to blame -the Censor for a mode of expressing himself which they held to be -equally impolite and injudicious. 'Surely,' said they, with some -plausibility, 'if Numidicus wished men to marry, he need not have -referred so peremptorily to the disquietudes of the connection, and thus -have made them more inclined to turn away from matrimony than given them -a relish for it.' But against these critics one honest man (whose name -of Titus Castricius should not be forgotten by posterity) maintained -that Metellus Numidicus could not have spoken more properly; 'For -remark,' said he, 'that Metellus was a censor, not a rhetorician. It -becomes rhetoricians to adorn, and disguise, and make the best of -things; but Metellus, _sanctus vir_--a holy and blameless man, -grave and sincere to wit, and addressing the Roman people in the solemn -capacity of Censor--was bound to speak the plain truth, especially as he -was treating of a subject on which the observation of every day, and the -experience of every life, could not leave the least doubt upon the mind -of his audience.' Still Riccabocca, having decided to marry, has no -doubt prepared himself to bear all the concomitant evils--as becomes a -professed sage; and I own I admire the art with which Pisistratus has -drawn the precise woman likely to suit a philosopher." - -Pisistratus bows, and looks round complacently; but recoils from two -very peevish and discontented faces feminine. - -MR. CAXTON (completing his sentence.)--"Not only as regards mildness of -temper and other household qualifications, but as regards the very -_person_ of the object of his choice. For you evidently remembered, -Pisistratus, the reply of Bias, when asked his opinion on marriage: -[Greek: Êtoi kalên hexeis, ê aischran; kai ei kalên, hexeis koinên; ei -dê aischran hexeis poinên.]" - -Pisistratus tries to look as if he had the opinion of Bias by heart, and -nods acquiescingly. - -MR. CAXTON.--"That is, my dears, 'The woman you would marry is -either handsome or ugly; if handsome, she is koiné, viz., you don't have -her to yourself; if ugly, she is poiné--that is, a fury.' But, as it is -observed in Aulus Gellius (whence I borrow this citation), there is a -wide interval between handsome and ugly. And thus Ennius, in his tragedy -of _Menalippus_, uses an admirable expression to designate women of -the proper degree of matrimonial comeliness, such as a philosopher would -select. He calls this degree _stata forma_--a rational, mediocre -sort of beauty, which is not liable to be either koiné or poiné. And -Favorinus, who was a remarkably sensible man, and came from -Provence--the male inhabitants of which district have always valued -themselves on their knowledge of love and ladies--calls this said -_stata forma_ the beauty of wives--the uxorial beauty. Ennius says -that women of a _stata forma_ are almost always safe and modest. -Now Jemima, you observe, is described as possessing this _stata -forma_; and it is the nicety of your observation in this respect, -which I like the most in the whole of your description of a -philosopher's matrimonial courtship, Pisistratus, (excepting only the -stroke of the spectacles) for it shows that you had properly considered -the opinion of Bias, and mastered all the counter logic suggested in -Book v. Chapter xi., of Aulus Gellius." - -"For all that," said Blanche, half-archly, half-demurely, with a smile -in the eye, and a pout of the lip, "I don't remember that Pisistratus, -in the days when he wished to be most complimentary, ever assured me -that I had a _stata forma_--a rational, mediocre sort of beauty." - -"And I think," observed my uncle, "that when he comes to his real -heroine, whoever that may be, he will not trouble his head much about -either Bias or Aulus Gellius." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Matrimony is certainly a great change in life. One is astonished not -to find a notable alteration in one's friend, even if he or she have -been only wedded a week. In the instance of Dr. and Mrs. Riccabocca the -change was peculiarly visible. To speak first of the lady, as in -chivalry bound, Mrs. Riccabocca had entirely renounced that melancholy -which had characterized Miss Jemima: she became even sprightly and gay, -and looked all the better and prettier for the alteration. She did not -scruple to confess honestly to Mrs. Dale, that she was now of opinion -that the world was very far from approaching its end. But, in the mean -while, she did not neglect the duty which the belief she had abandoned -serves to inculculate--"She set her house in order." The cold and -penurious elegance that had characterized the Casino disappeared like -enchantment--that is, the elegance remained, but the cold and penury -fled before the smile of woman. Like Puss-in-Boots after the nuptials of -his master, Jackeymo only now caught minnows and sticklebacks for his -own amusement. Jackeymo looked much plumper, and so did Riccabocca. In a -word, the fair Jemima became an excellent wife. Riccabocca secretly -thought her extravagant, but, like a wise man, declined to look at the -house bills, and ate his joint in unreproachful silence. - -Indeed, there was so much unaffected kindness in the nature of Mrs. -Riccabocca--beneath the quiet of her manner there beat so genially the -heart of the Hazeldeans--that she fairly justified the favorable -anticipations of Mrs. Dale. And though the Doctor did not noisily boast -of his felicity, nor, as some new married folks do, thrust it -insultingly under the _nimis unctis naribus_--the turned-up noses - of your surly old married folks, nor force it gaudily and glaringly on -the envious eyes of the single, you might still see that he was a more -cheerful and light-hearted man than before. His smile was less ironical, -his politeness less distant. He did not study Machiavelli so -intensely--and he did not return to the spectacles; which last was an -excellent sign. Moreover, the humanizing influence of the tidy English -wife might be seen in the improvement of his outward or artificial man. -His clothes seemed to fit him better; indeed, the clothes were new. Mrs. -Dale no longer remarked that the buttons were off the wristbands, which -was a great satisfaction to her. But the sage still remained faithful to -the pipe, the cloak, and the red silk umbrella. Mrs. Riccabocca had (to -her credit be it spoken) used all becoming and wife-like arts against -these three remnants of the old bachelor Adam, but in vain, "_Anima -mia_--soul of mine," said the Doctor, tenderly, "I hold the cloak, -the umbrella, and the pipe, as the sole relics that remain to me of my -native country. Respect and spare them." - -Mrs. Riccabocca was touched, and had the good sense to perceive that -man, let him be ever so much married, retains certain signs of his -ancient independence--certain tokens of his old identity, which a wife, -the most despotic, will do well to concede. She conceded the cloak, she -submitted to the umbrella, she concealed her abhorrence of the pipe. -After all, considering the natural villainy of our sex, she confessed to -herself that she might have been worse off. But, through all the calm -and cheerfulness of Riccabocca, a nervous perturbation was sufficiently -perceptible; it commenced after the second week of marriage--it went on -increasing, till one bright sunny afternoon, as he was standing on his -terrace gazing down upon the road, at which Jackeymo was placed--lo, a -stage-coach stopped! The Doctor made a bound, and put both hands to his -heart as if he had been shot; he then leapt over the balustrade, and his -wife from her window beheld him flying down the hill, with his long hair -streaming in the wind, till the trees hid him from her sight. - -"Ah," thought she with a natural pang of conjugal jealousy, "henceforth -I am only second in his home. He has gone to welcome his child!" And at -that reflection Mrs. Riccabocca shed tears. - -But so naturally amiable was she, that she hastened to curb her emotion, -and efface as well as she could the trace of a stepmother's grief. When -this was done, and a silent, self-rebuking prayer murmured over, the -good woman descended the stairs with alacrity, and, summoning up her -best smiles, emerged on the terrace. - -She was repaid; for scarcely had she come into the open air, when two -little arms were thrown round her, and the sweetest voice that ever came -from a child's lips, sighed out in broken English, "Good mamma, love me -a little." - -"Love you? with my whole heart!" cried the stepmother, with all a -mother's honest passion. And she clasped the child to her breast. - -"God bless you, my wife!" said Riccabocca, in a husky tone. - -"Please take this, too," added Jackeymo, in Italian, as well as his sobs -would let him--and broke off a great bough full of blossoms from his -favorite orange-tree, and thrust it into his mistress's hand. She had -not the slightest notion what he meant by it! - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -Violante was indeed a bewitching child--a child to whom I defy Mrs. -Caudle herself (immortal Mrs. Caudle!) to have been a harsh stepmother. - -Look at her now, as, released from those kindly arms, she stands, still -clinging with one hand to her new mamma, and holding out the other to -Riccabocca--with those large dark eyes swimming in happy tears. What a -lovely smile!--what an ingenuous candid brow! She looks delicate--she -evidently requires care--she wants the mother. And rare is the woman who -would not love her the better for that! Still, what an innocent -infantine bloom in those clear smooth cheeks!--and in that slight frame, -what exquisite natural grace! - -"And this, I suppose, is your nurse, darling?" said Mrs. Riccabocca, -observing a dark foreign-looking woman, dressed very strangely--without -cap or bonnet, but a great silver arrow stuck in her hair, and a -filagree chain or necklace resting upon her kerchief. - -"Ah, good Annetta," said Violante in Italian. "Papa, she says she is to -go back; but she is not to go back--is she?" - -Riccabocca, who had scarcely before noticed the woman, started at that -question--exchanged a rapid glance with Jackeymo--and then, muttering -some inaudible excuse, approached the Nurse, and, beckoning her to -follow him, went away into the grounds. He did not return for more than -an hour, nor did the woman then accompany him home. He said briefly to -his wife that the Nurse was obliged to return at once to Italy, and that -she would stay in the village to catch the mail; that indeed she would -be of no use in their establishment, as she could not speak a word of -English; but that he was sadly afraid Violante would pine for her. And -Violante did pine at first. But still, to a child it is so great a thing -to find a parent--to be at home--that, tender and grateful as Violante -was, she could not be inconsolable while her father was there to -comfort. - -For the first few days, Riccabocca scarcely permitted any one to be with -his daughter but himself. He would not even leave her alone with his -Jemima. They walked out together--sat together for hours in the -Belvidere. Then by degrees he began to resign her more and more to -Jemima's care and tuition, especially in English, of which language at -present she spoke only a few sentences (previously, perhaps, learned by -heart), so as to be clearly intelligible. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -There was one person in the establishment of Dr. Riccabocca, who was -satisfied neither with the marriage of his master nor the arrival of -Violante--and that was our friend Lenny Fairfield. Previous to the -all-absorbing duties of courtship, the young peasant had secured a very -large share of Riccabocca's attention. The sage had felt interest in the -growth of this rude intelligence struggling up to light. But what with -the wooing, and what with the wedding, Lenny Fairfield had sunk very -much out of his artificial position as pupil, into his natural station -of under-gardener. And on the arrival of Violante, he saw, with natural -bitterness, that he was clean forgotten, not only by Riccabocca, but -almost by Jackeymo. It was true that the master still lent him books, -and the servant still gave him lectures on horticulture. But Riccabocca -had no time nor inclination now to amuse himself with enlightening that -tumult of conjecture which the books created. And if Jackeymo had been -covetous of those mines of gold buried beneath the acres now fairly -taken from the Squire (and good-naturedly added rent-free, as an aid to -Jemima's dower), before the advent of the young lady whose future dowry -the produce was to swell--now that she was actually under the eyes of -the faithful servant, such a stimulus was given to his industry, that he -could think of nothing else but the land, and the revolution he designed -to effect in its natural English crops. The garden, save only the -orange-trees, was abandoned entirely to Lenny, and additional laborers -were called in for the field-work. Jackeymo had discovered that one -part of the soil was suited to lavender, that another would grow -chamomile. He had in his heart apportioned a beautiful field of rich -loam to flax; but against the growth of flax the Squire set his face -obstinately. That most lucrative, perhaps, of all crops, when soil and -skill suit, had, it would appear, been formerly attempted in England -much more commonly than it is now; since you will find few old leases -which do not contain a clause prohibitory of flax, as an impoverishment -of the land. And though Jackeymo learnedly endeavored to prove to the -Squire that the flax itself contained particles which, if returned to -the soil, repaid all that the crop took away, Mr. Hazeldean had his -old-fashioned prejudices on the matter, which were insuperable. "My -forefathers," quoth he, "did not put that clause in their leases without -good cause; and as the Casino lands are entailed on Frank, I have no -right to gratify your foreign whims at his expense." - -To make up for the loss of the flax, Jackeymo resolved to convert a very -nice bit of pasture into orchard ground, which he calculated would bring -in £10 net per acre by the time Miss Violante was marriageable. At this, -the Squire pished a little; but as it was quite clear that the land -would be all the more valuable hereafter for the fruit trees, he -consented to permit the "grass land" to be thus partially broken up. - -All these changes left poor Lenny Fairfield very much to himself--at a -time when the new and strange devices which the initiation into book -knowledge creates, made it most desirable that he should have the -constant guidance of a superior mind. - -One evening after his work, as Lenny was returning to his mother's -cottage very sullen and very moody, he suddenly came in contact with -Sprott the tinker. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -The tinker was seated under a hedge, hammering away at an old -kettle--with a little fire burning in front of him--and the donkey hard -by, indulging in a placid doze. Mr. Sprott looked up as Lenny -passed--nodded kindly, and said: - -"Good evenin', Lenny: glad to hear you be so 'spectably sitivated with -Mounseer." - -"Ay," answered Lenny, with a leaven of rancor in his recollections, -"You're not ashamed to speak to me now, that I am not in disgrace. But -it was in disgrace, when it wasn't my fault, that the real gentleman was -most kind to me." - -"Ar--r, Lenny," said the Tinker, with a prolonged rattle in that said -Ar--r, which was not without great significance. "But you sees the real -gentleman who han't got his bread to get, can hafford to 'spise his -cracter in the world. A poor tinker must be timbersome and nice in his -'sociations. But sit down here a bit, Lenny; I've summat to say to ye!" - -"To me--" - -"To ye. Give the neddy a shove out i' the vay, and sit down, I say." - -Lenny rather reluctantly, and somewhat superciliously, accepted this -invitation. - -"I hears," said the Tinker in a voice made rather indistinct by a couple -of nails which he had inserted between his teeth; "I hears as how you be -unkimmon fond of reading. I ha' sum nice cheap books in my bag -yonder--sum as low as a penny." - -"I should like to see them," said Lenny, his eyes sparkling. - -The Tinker rose, opened one of the panniers on the ass's back, took out -a bag which he placed before Lenny, and told him to suit himself. The -young peasant desired no better. He spread all the contents of the bag -on the sward, and a motley collection of food for the mind was -there--food and poison--_serpentes avibus_--good and evil. Here, -Milton's Paradise Lost, there The Age of Reason--here Methodist tracts, -there True Principles of Socialism--Treatises on Useful Knowledge by -sound learning actuated by pure benevolence--Appeals to Operatives by -the shallowest reasoners, instigated by the same ambition that had -moved Eratosthenes to the conflagration of a temple; works of fiction -admirable as Robinson Crusoe, or innocent as the Old English Baron, -beside coarse translations of such garbage as had rotted away the youth -of France under Louis Quinze. This miscellany was an epitome, in short, -of the mixed World of Books, of that vast City of the Press, with its -palaces and hovels, its aqueducts and sewers--which opens all alike to -the naked eye and the curious mind of him to whom you say, in the -Tinker's careless phrase, "suit yourself." - -But it is not the first impulse of a nature, healthful and still pure, -to settle in the hovel and lose itself amid the sewers; and Lenny -Fairfield turned innocently over the bad books, and selecting two or -three of the best, brought them to the Tinker and asked the price. - -"Why," said Mr. Sprott, putting on his spectacles, "you has taken the -werry dearest: them 'ere be much cheaper, and more hinterestin'." - -"But I don't fancy them," answered Lenny; "I don't understand what they -are about, and this seems to tell one how the steam-engine is made, and -has nice plates; and this is Robinson Crusoe, which Parson Dale once -said he would give me--I'd rather buy it out of my own money." - -"Well, please yourself," quoth the Tinker; "you shall have the books for -four bob, and you can pay me next month." - -"Four bobs--four shillings? it is a great sum," said Lenny, "but I will -lay by, as you are kind enough to trust me; good evening, Mr. Sprott." - -"Stay a bit," said the Tinker; "I'll just throw you these two little -tracks into the barging; they be only a shilling a dozen, so 'tis but -tuppence--and ven you has read _those_, vy, you'll be a reglar -customer." - -The Tinker tossed to Lenny Nos. 1 and 2 of Appeals to Operatives, and -the peasant took them up gratefully. - -The young knowledge-seeker went his way across the green fields, and -under the still autumn foliage of the hedgerows. He looked first at one -book, then at another; he did not know on which to settle. - -The Tinker rose and made a fire with leaves and furze and sticks, some -dry and some green. - -Lenny has now opened No. 1 of the tracts: they are the shortest to read, -and don't require so much effort of the mind as the explanation of the -steam-engine. - -The Tinker has now set on his grimy glue-pot, and the glue simmers. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -As Violante became more familiar with her new home, and those around her -became more familiar with Violante, she was remarked for a certain -stateliness of manner and bearing, which, had it been less evidently -natural and inborn, would have seemed misplaced in the daughter of a -forlorn exile, and would have been rare at so early an age among -children of the loftiest pretensions. It was with the air of a little -princess that she presented her tiny hand to a friendly pressure, or -submitted her calm clear cheek to a presuming kiss. Yet withal she was -so graceful, and her very stateliness was so pretty and captivating, -that she was not the less loved for all her grand airs. And, indeed, she -deserved to be loved; for though she was certainly prouder than Mr. Dale -could approve of, her pride was devoid of egotism; and that is a pride -by no means common. She had an intuitive forethought for others; you -could see that she was capable of that grand woman-heroism, abnegation -of self; and though she was an original child, and often grave and -musing, with a tinge of melancholy, sweet, but deep in her character, -still she was not above the happy genial merriment of childhood--only -her silver laugh was more attuned, and her gestures more composed than -those of children, habituated to many playfellows, usually are. Mrs. -Hazeldean liked her best when she was grave, and said "she would become -a very sensible woman." Mrs. Dale liked her best when she was gay, and -said, "she was born to make many a heart ache;" for which Mrs. Dale was -properly reproved by the Parson. Mrs. Hazeldean gave her a little set of -garden tools; Mrs. Dale a picture-book and a beautiful doll. For a long -time the book and the doll had the preference. But Mrs. Hazeldean having -observed to Riccabocca that the poor child looked pale, and ought to be -a good deal in the open air, the wise father ingeniously pretended to -Violante that Mrs. Riccabocca had taken a great fancy to the picture -book, and that he should be very glad to have the doll, upon which -Violante hastened to give them both away, and was never so happy as when -mamma (as she called Mrs. Riccabocca) was admiring the picture-book, and -Riccabocca with austere gravity dandled the doll. Then Riccabocca -assured her that she could be of great use to him in the garden; and -Violante instantly put into movement her spade, hoe, and wheelbarrow. - -This last occupation brought her into immediate contact with Mr. Leonard -Fairfield; and that personage one morning, to his great horror, found -Miss Violante had nearly exterminated a whole celery-bed, which she had -ignorantly conceived to be a crop of weeds. - -Lenny was extremely angry. He snatched away the hoe, and said, angrily, -"You must not do that, Miss. I'll tell your papa if you--" - -Violante drew herself up, and never having been so spoken to before, at -least since her arrival in England, there was something comic in the -surprise of her large eyes, as well as something tragic in the dignity -of her offended mien. "It is very naughty of you, Miss," continued -Leonard, in a milder tone, for he was both softened by the eyes and -awed by the mien, "and I trust you will not do it again." - -"_Non capisco_" (I don't understand), murmured Violante, and the -dark eyes filled with tears. At that moment up came Jackeymo; and -Violante, pointing to Leonard, said, with an effort not to betray her -emotion, "_Il fanciullo e molto grossolano_" (he is a very rude -boy). - -Jackeymo turned to Leonard with the look of an enraged tiger. "How you -dare, scum of de earth that you are," cried he,[13] "how you dare make -cry the signorina?" And his English not supplying familiar vituperatives -sufficiently, he poured out upon Lenny such a profusion of Italian -abuse, that the boy turned red and white in a breath with rage and -perplexity. - -[Footnote 13: It need scarcely be observed, that Jackeymo, in his -conversations with his master or Violante, or his conference with -himself, employs his native language, which is therefore translated -without the blunders that he is driven to commit when compelled to trust -himself to the tongue of the country in which he is a sojourner.] - -Violante took instant compassion upon the victim she had made, and, with -true feminine caprice, now began to scold Jackeymo for his anger, and, -finally approaching Leonard, laid her hand on his arm, and said with a -kindness at once childlike and queenly, and in the prettiest imaginable -mixture of imperfect English and soft Italian, to which I can not -pretend to do justice, and shall therefore translate: "Don't mind him. I -dare say it was all my fault, only I did not understand you: are not -these things weeds?" - -"No, my darling signorina," said Jackeymo, in Italian, looking ruefully -at the celery-bed, "they are not weeds, and they sell very well at this -time of the year. But still, if it amuses you to pluck them up, I should -like to see who's to prevent it." - -Lenny walked away. He had been called "the scum of the earth," by a -foreigner, too! He had again been ill-treated for doing what he -conceived his duty. He was again feeling the distinction between rich -and poor, and he now fancied that that distinction involved deadly -warfare, for he had read from beginning to end those two damnable tracts -which the Tinker had presented to him. But in the midst of all the angry -disturbance of his mind, he felt the soft touch of the infant's hand, -the soothing influence of her conciliating words, and he was half -ashamed that he had spoken so roughly to a child. - -Still, not trusting himself to speak, he walked away, and sat down at a -distance. "I don't see," thought he, "why there should be rich and poor, -master and servant." Lenny, be it remembered, had not heard the Parson's -Political Sermon. - -An hour after, having composed himself, Lenny returned to his work. -Jackeymo was no longer in the garden; he had gone to the fields; but -Riccabocca was standing by the celery-bed, and holding the red silk -umbrella over Violante as she sat on the ground, looking up at her -father with those eyes already so full of intelligence, and love, and -soul. - -"Lenny," said Riccabocca, "my young lady has been telling me that she -has been very naughty, and Giacomo very unjust to you. Forgive them -both." - -Lenny's sullenness melted in an instant; the reminiscences of tracts -Nos. 1 and 2, - - "Like the baseless fabrics of a vision, - Left not a wreck behind." - -He raised eyes, swimming with all his native goodness, toward the wise -man, and dropped them gratefully on the face of the infant peacemaker. -Then he turned away his head and fairly wept. The Parson was right: "O -ye poor, have charity for the rich; O ye rich, respect the poor." - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -Now from that day the humble Lenny and the regal Violante became great -friends. With what pride he taught her to distinguish between celery and -weeds--and how proud too, was she when she learned that she was -_useful_! There is not a greater pleasure you can give to children, -especially female children, than to make them feel they are already of -value in the world, and serviceable as well as protected. Weeks and -months rolled away, and Lenny still read, not only the books lent him by -the Doctor, but those he bought of Mr. Sprott. As for the bombs and -shells against religion which the Tinker carried in his bag, Lenny was -not induced to blow himself up with them. He had been reared from his -cradle in simple love and reverence for the Divine Father, and the -tender Saviour, whose life beyond all records of human goodness, whose -death beyond all epics of mortal heroism, no being whose infancy has -been taught to supplicate the Merciful and adore the Holy, yea, even -though his later life may be entangled amidst the thorns of some -desolate Pyrrhonism, can ever hear reviled and scoffed without a shock -to the conscience and a revolt of the heart. As the deer recoils by -instinct from the tiger, as the very look of the scorpion deters you -from handling it, though you never saw a scorpion before, so the very -first line in some ribald profanity on which the Tinker put his slack -finger, made Lenny's blood run cold. Safe, too, was the peasant boy from -any temptation in works of a gross and licentious nature, not only -because of the happy ignorance of his rural life, not because of a more -enduring safeguard--genius! Genius, that, manly, robust, healthful as it -be, is long before it lose its instinctive Dorian modesty: shame-faced, -because so susceptible to glory--genius, that loves indeed to dream, but -on the violet bank, not the dunghill. Wherefore, even in the error of -the senses, it seeks to escape from the sensual into worlds of fancy, -subtle and refined. But apart from the passions, true genius is the most -practical of all human gifts. Like the Apollo, whom the -Greek worshiped as its type, even Arcady is its exile, not its home. -Soon weary of the dalliance of Tempé, its ascends to its mission--the -Archer of the silver bow, the guide of the car of light. Speaking more -plainly, genius is the enthusiasm for self-improvement; it ceases or -sleeps the moment it desists from seeking some object which it believes -of value, and by that object it insensibly connects its self-improvement -with the positive advance of the world. At present Lenny's genius had no -bias that was not to the Positive and Useful. It took the direction -natural to his sphere, and the wants therein, viz., to the arts which we -call mechanical. He wanted to know about steam-engines and Artesian -wells; and to know about them it was necessary to know something of -mechanics and hydrostatics; so he bought popular elementary works on -those mystic sciences, and set all the powers of his mind at work on -experiments. - -Noble and generous spirits are ye, who with small care for fame, and -little reward from pelf, have opened to the intellects of the poor the -portals of wisdom! I honor and revere ye; only do not think ye have -done all that is needful. Consider, I pray ye, whether so good a -choice from the Tinker's bag would have been made by a boy whom -religion had not scared from the Pestilent, and genius had not led to -the Self-improving. And Lenny did not wholly escape from the mephitic -portions of the motley elements from which his awakening mind drew its -nurture. Think not it was all pure oxygen that the panting lip drew -in. No; there were still those inflammatory tracts. Political I do not -like to call them, for politics mean the art of government, and the -tracts I speak of assailed all government which mankind has hitherto -recognized. Sad rubbish, perhaps, were such tracts to you, O sound -thinker, in your easy-chair! Or to you, practiced statesman, at your -post on the Treasury Bench--to you, calm dignitary of a learned -Church--or to you, my lord judge, who may often have sent from your -bar to the dire Orcus of Norfolk's Isle the ghosts of men whom that -rubbish, falling simultaneously on the bumps of acquisitiveness and -combativeness, hath untimely slain. Sad rubbish to you! But seems it -such rubbish to the poor man, to whom it promises a paradise on the -easy terms of upsetting a world? For ye see, these "Appeals to -Operatives" represent that same world-upsetting as the simplest thing -imaginable--a sort of two-and-two-make-four proposition. The poor have -only got to set their strong hands to the axle, and heave-a-hoy! and -hurrah for the topsy-turvy! Then, just to put a little wholesome rage -into the heave-a-hoy! it is so facile to accompany the eloquence of -"Appeals" with a kind of stir-the-bile-up statistics--"Abuses of the -Aristocracy"--"Jobs of the Priesthood"--"Expenses of Army kept up for -Peers' younger sons"--"Wars contracted for the villainous purpose of -raising the rents of the landowners"--all arithmetically dished up, -and seasoned with tales of every gentleman who has committed a -misdeed, every clergyman who has dishonored his cloth; as if such -instances were fair specimens of average gentlemen and ministers of -religion! All this passionately advanced, (and observe, never -answered, for that literature admits no controversialists, and the -writer has it all his own way), may be rubbish; but it is out of such -rubbish that operatives build barricades for attack, and legislators -prisons for defense. - -Our poor friend Lenny drew plenty of this stuff from the Tinker's bag. -He thought it very clever and very eloquent; and he supposed the -statistics were as true as mathematical demonstrations. - -A famous knowledge-diffuser is looking over my shoulder, and tells me, -"Increase education, and cheapen good books, and all this rubbish will -disappear!" Sir, I don't believe a word of it. If you printed Ricardo -and Adam Smith at a farthing a volume, I still believe they would be as -little read by the operatives as they are nowadays by a very large -proportion of highly-cultivated men. I still believe that while the -press works, attacks on the rich, and propositions for heave-a-hoys, -will always form a popular portion of the Literature of Labor. There's -Lenny Fairfield reading a treatise on hydraulics, and constructing a -model for a fountain into the bargain; but that does not prevent his -acquiescence in any proposition for getting rid of a National Debt, -which he certainly never agreed to pay, and which he is told makes sugar -and tea so shamefully dear. No. I tell you what does a little counteract -those eloquent incentives to break his own head against the strong walls -of the Social System--it is, that he has two eyes in that head, which -are not always employed in reading. And, having been told in print that -masters are tyrants, parsons hypocrites or drones in the hive, and -landowners vampires and bloodsuckers, he looks out into the little -world around him, and, first he is compelled to acknowledge that his -master is not a tyrant (perhaps because he is a foreigner and a -philosopher, and, for what I and Lenny know, a republican). But then -Parson Dale, though High Church to the marrow, is neither hypocrite nor -drone. He has a very good living, it is true--much better than he ought -to have, according to the "political" opinions of those tracts; but -Lenny is obliged to confess that, if Parson Dale were a penny the -poorer, he would do a pennyworth's less good; and, comparing one parish -with another, such as Rood Hall and Hazeldean, he is dimly aware that -there is no greater CIVILIZER than a parson tolerably well off. -Then, too, Squire Hazeldean, though as arrant a Tory as ever stood upon -shoe-leather, is certainly not a vampire nor bloodsucker. He does not -feed on the public; a great many of the public feed upon him: and, -therefore, his practical experience a little staggers and perplexes -Lenny Fairfield as to the gospel accuracy of his theoretical -dogmas. Masters, parsons, landowners! having, at the risk of all -popularity, just given a _coup de patte_ to certain sages extremely -the fashion at present, I am not going to let you off without an -admonitory flea in the ear. Don't suppose that any mere scribbling and -typework will suffice to answer scribbling and typework set at work to -demolish you--_write_ down that rubbish you can't--_live_ it -down you may. If you are rich, like Squire Hazeldean, do good with your -money; if you are poor, like Signor Riccabocca, do good with your -kindness. - -See! there is Lenny now receiving his week's wages; and though Lenny -knows that he can get higher wages in the very next parish, his blue -eyes are sparkling with gratitude, not at the chink of the money, but at -the poor exile's friendly talk on things apart from all service; while -Violante is descending the steps from the terrace, charged by her -mother-in-law with a little basket of sago, and suchlike delicacies, for -Mrs. Fairfield, who has been ailing the last few days. - -Lenny will see the Tinker as he goes home, and he will buy a most -Demosthenean "Appeal"--a tract of tracts, upon the "Propriety of -Strikes," and the Avarice of Masters. But, somehow or other, I think a -few words from Signor Riccabocca, that did not cost the Signor a -farthing, and the sight of his mother's smile at the contents of the -basket, which cost very little, will serve to neutralize the effects of -that "Appeal," much more efficaciously than the best article a Brougham -or a Mill could write on the subject. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -Spring had come again; and one beautiful May-day, Leonard Fairfield sate -beside the little fountain which he had now actually constructed in the -garden. The butterflies were hovering over the belt of flowers which he -had placed around his fountain, and the birds were singing overhead. -Leonard Fairfield was resting from his day's work, to enjoy his -abstemious dinner, beside the cool play of the sparkling waters, and, -with the yet keener appetite of knowledge, he devoured his book as he -munched his crusts. - -A penny tract is the shoeing-horn of literature: it draws on a great -many books, and some too tight to be very useful in walking. The penny -tract quotes a celebrated writer, you long to read him; it props a -startling assertion by a grave authority, you long to refer to it. -During the nights of the past winter, Leonard's intelligence had made -vast progress: he had taught himself more than the elements of -mechanics, and put to practice the principles he had acquired, not only -in the hydraulical achievement of the fountain, nor in the still more -notable application of science, commenced on the stream in which -Jackeymo had fished for minnows, and which Lenny had diverted to the -purpose of irrigating two fields, but in various ingenious contrivances -for the facilitation or abridgment of labor, which had excited great -wonder and praise in the neighborhood. On the other hand, those rabid -little tracts, which dealt so summarily with the destinies of the human -race, even when his growing reason, and the perusal of works more -classical or more logical, had led him to perceive that they were -illiterate, and to suspect that they jumped from premises to conclusions -with a celerity very different from the careful ratiocination of -mechanical science, had still, in the citations and references wherewith -they abounded, lured him on to philosophers more specious and more -perilous. Out of the Tinker's bag he had drawn a translation of -Condorcet's _Progress of Man_, and another of Rousseau's _Social -Contract_. These had induced him to select from the tracts in the -Tinker's miscellany those which abounded most in professions of -philanthropy, and predictions of some coming Golden Age, to which old -Saturn's was a joke--tracts so mild and mother-like in their language, -that it required a much more practical experience than Lenny's to -perceive that you would have to pass a river of blood before you had the -slightest chance of setting foot on the flowery banks on which they -invited you to repose--tracts which rouged poor Christianity on the -cheeks, clapped a crown of innocent daffodillies on her head, and set -her to dancing a _pas de zephyr_ in the pastoral ballet in which -St. Simon pipes to the flock he shears; or having first laid it down as -a preliminary axiom, that - - "The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, - The solemn temples, the great globe itself-- - Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve," - -substituted in place thereof Monsieur Fourier's symmetrical phalanstere, -or Mr. Owen's architectural parallelogram. It was with some such tract -that Lenny was seasoning his crusts and his radishes, when Riccabocca, -bending his long dark face over the student's shoulder, said abruptly-- - -"_Diavolo_, my friend! What on earth have you got there? Just let -me look at it, will you?" - -Leonard rose respectfully, and colored deeply as he surrendered the -tract to Riccabocca. - -The wise man read the first page attentively, the second more cursorily, -and only ran his eye over the rest. He had gone through too vast a range -of problems political, not to have passed over that venerable _Pons -Asinorum_ of Socialism, on which Fouriers and St. Simons sit -straddling and cry aloud that they have arrived at the last boundary of -knowledge! - -"All this is as old as the hills," quoth Riccabocca irreverently; "but -the hills stand still, and this--there it goes!" and the sage pointed to -a cloud emitted from his pipe. "Did you ever read Sir David Brewster on -Optical Delusions? No! Well, I'll lend it to you. You will find therein -a story of a lady who always saw a black cat on her hearth-rug. The -black cat existed only in her fancy, but the hallucination was natural -and reasonable--eh--what do you think?" - -"Why, sir," said Leonard, not catching the Italian's meaning, "I don't -exactly see that it was natural and reasonable." - -"Foolish boy, yes! because black cats are things possible and known. But -who ever saw upon earth a community of men such as sit on the -hearth-rugs of Messrs. Owen and Fourier? If the lady's hallucination was -not reasonable, what is his, who believes in such visions as these?" - -Leonard bit his lip. - -"My dear boy," cried Riccabocca kindly, "the only thing sure and -tangible to which these writers would lead you, lies at the first step, -and that is what is commonly called a Revolution. Now, I know what that -is. I have gone, not indeed through a revolution, but an attempt at -one." - -Leonard raised his eyes toward his master with a look of profound -respect, and great curiosity. - -"Yes," added Riccabocca, and the face on which the boy gazed exchanged -its usual grotesque and sardonic expression for one animated, noble, and -heroic. "Yes, not a revolution for chimeras, but for that cause which -the coldest allow to be good, and which, when successful, all time -approves as divine--the redemption of our native soil from the rule of -the foreigner! I have shared in such an attempt. And," continued the -Italian mournfully, "recalling now all the evil passions it arouses, all -the ties it dissolves, all the blood that it commands to flow, all the -healthful industry it arrests, all the madmen that it arms, all the -victims that it dupes, I question whether one man really honest, pure, -and humane, who has once gone through such an ordeal, would ever hazard -it again, unless he was assured that the victory was certain--ay, and -the object for which he fights not to be wrested from his hands amidst -the uproar of the elements that the battle has released." - -The Italian paused, shaded his brow with his hand, and remained long -silent. Then, gradually resuming his ordinary tone, he continued-- - -"Revolutions that have no definite objects made clear by the positive -experience of history; revolutions, in a word, that aim less at -substituting one law or one dynasty for another, than at changing the -whole scheme of society, have been little attempted by real statesmen. -Even Lycurgus is proved to be a myth who never existed. They are the -suggestions of philosophers who lived apart from the actual world, and -whose opinions (though generally they were very benevolent, good sort of -men, and wrote in an elegant poetical style) one would no more take on a -plain matter of life, than one would look upon Virgil's _Eclogues_ -as a faithful picture of the ordinary pains and pleasures of the -peasants who tend our sheep. Read them as you would read poets, and they -are delightful. But attempt to shape the world according to the -poetry--and fit yourself for a madhouse. The farther off the age is from -the realization of such projects, the more these poor philosophers have -indulged them. Thus, it was amidst the saddest corruption of court -manners that it became the fashion in Paris to sit for one's picture -with a crook in one's hand, as Alexis or Daphne. Just as liberty was -fast dying out of Greece, and the successors of Alexander were founding -their monarchies, and Rome was growing up to crush, in its iron grasp, -all states save its own, Plato withdraws his eyes from the world, to -open them in his dreamy Atlantis. Just in the grimmest period of English -history, with the ax hanging over his head, Sir Thomas More gives you -his _Utopia_. Just when the world is to be the theatre of a new -Sesostris, the dreamers of France tell you that the age is too -enlightened for war, that man is henceforth to be governed by pure -reason and live in a paradise. Very pretty reading all this to a man -like me, Lenny, who can admire and smile at it. But to you, to the man -who has to work for his living, to the man who thinks it would be so -much more pleasant to live at his ease in a phalanstere than to work -eight or ten hours a day; to the man of talent, and action, and -industry, whose future is invested in that tranquillity, and order of a -state, in which talent, and action and industry are a certain capital; -why, Messrs. Coutts, the great bankers, had better encourage a theory to -upset the system of banking! Whatever disturbs society, yea, even by a -causeless panic, much more by an actual struggle, falls first upon the -market of labor, and thence affects, prejudicially, every department of -intelligence. In such times the arts are arrested; literature is -neglected; people are too busy to read any thing save appeals to their -passions. And capital, shaken in its sense of security, no longer -ventures boldly through the land, calling forth all the energies of toil -and enterprise, and extending to every workman his reward. Now, Lenny, -take this piece of advice. You are young, clever, and aspiring: men -rarely succeed in changing the world; but a man seldom fails of success -if he lets the world alone, and resolves to make the best of it. You are -in the midst of the great crisis of your life; it is the struggle -between the new desires knowledge excites, and that sense of poverty, -which those desires convert either into hope and emulation, or into envy -and despair. I grant that it is an up-hill work that lies before you; -but don't you think it is always easier to climb a mountain than it is -to level it? These books call on you to level the mountain; and that -mountain is the property of other people, subdivided among a great many -proprietors, and protected by law. At the first stroke of the pick-ax, -it is ten to one but what you are taken up for a trespass. But the path -up the mountain is a right of way uncontested. You may be safe at the -summit, before (even if the owners are fools enough to let you) you -could have leveled a yard. _Cospetto!_" quoth the Doctor, "it is -more than two thousand years ago since poor Plato began to level it, and -the mountain is as high as ever!" - -Thus saying, Riccabocca came to the end of his pipe, and, stalking -thoughtfully away, he left Leonard Fairfield trying to extract light -from the smoke. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -Shortly after this discourse of Riccabocca's, an incident occurred to -Leonard that served to carry his mind into new directions. One evening, -when his mother was out, he was at work on a new mechanical contrivance, -and had the misfortune to break one of the instruments which he -employed. Now it will be remembered that his father had been the -Squire's head-carpenter; the widow had carefully hoarded the tools of -his craft, which had belonged to her poor Mark; and though she -occasionally lent them to Leonard, she would not give them up to his -service. Among these, Leonard knew that he should find the one that he -wanted; and being much interested in his contrivance, he could not wait -till his mother's return. The tools, with other little relics of the -lost, were kept in a large trunk in Mrs. Fairfield's sleeping room; the -trunk was not locked, and Leonard went to it without ceremony or -scruple. In rummaging for the instrument, his eye fell upon a bundle of -MSS.; and he suddenly recollected that when he was a mere child, and -before he much knew the difference between verse and prose, his mother -had pointed to these MSS. and said, "One day or other, when you can read -nicely, I'll let you look at these Lenny. My poor Mark wrote such -verses--ah, he _was_ a scollard!" Leonard, reasonably enough, -thought that the time had now arrived when he was worthy the privilege -of reading the paternal effusions, and he took forth the MSS. with a -keen but melancholy interest. He recognized his father's handwriting, -which he had often seen before in account-books and memoranda, and read -eagerly some trifling poems, which did not show much genius, nor much -mastery of language and rhythm--such poems, in short as a self-educated -man, with poetic taste and feeling, rather than poetic inspiration or -artistic culture, might compose with credit, but not for fame. But -suddenly, as he turned over these "Occasional Pieces," Leonard came to -others in a different handwriting--a woman's handwriting--small, and -fine, and exquisitely formed. He had scarcely read six lines of these -last, before his attention was irresistibly chained. They were of a -different order of merit from poor Mark's; they bore the unmistakable -stamp of genius. Like the poetry of women in general, they were devoted -to personal feeling--they were not the mirror of a world, but -reflections of a solitary heart. Yet this is the kind of poetry most -pleasing to the young. And the verses in question had another attraction -for Leonard: they seemed to express some struggle akin to his own--some -complaint against the actual condition of the writer's life, some sweet -melodious murmurs at fortune. For the rest, they were characterized by a -vein of sentiment so elevated that, if written by a man, it would have -run into exaggeration; written by a woman, the romance was carried off -by so many genuine revelations of sincere, deep, pathetic feeling, that -it was always natural, though true to a nature from which you would not -augur happiness. - -Leonard was still absorbed in the perusal of these poems, when Mrs. -Fairfield entered the room. - -"What have you been about, Lenny? searching in my box?" - -"I came to look for my father's bag of tools, mother, and I found these -papers, which you said I might read some day." - -"I doesn't wonder you did not hear me when I came in," said the widow -sighing. "I used to sit still for the hour together, when my poor Mark -read his poems to me. There was such a pretty one about the 'Peasant's -Fireside,' Lenny--have you got hold of that?" - -"Yes, dear mother; and I remarked the allusion to you: it brought tears -to my eyes. But these verses are not my father's--whose are they? They -seem a woman's hand." - -Mrs. Fairfield looked--changed color--grew faint--and seated herself. - -"Poor, poor Nora!" said she, faltering. "I did not know as they were -there; Mark kep 'em; they got among his--" - -LEONARD.--"Who was Nora!" - -MRS. FAIRFIELD.--"Who?--child--who? Nora was--was my own--own -sister." - -LEONARD (in great amaze, contrasting his ideal of the writer of -these musical lines, in that graceful hand, with his homely uneducated -mother, who can neither read nor write).--"Your sister--is it possible? -My aunt, then. How comes it you never spoke of her before? Oh! you -should be so proud of her, mother." - -MRS. FAIRFIELD (clasping her hands).--"We were proud of her, -all of us--father, mother--all! She was so beautiful and so good, and -not proud she! though she looked like the first lady in the land. Oh! -Nora, Nora!" - -LEONARD (after a pause).--"But she must have been highly -educated?" - -MRS. FAIRFIELD.--"'Deed she was!" - -LEONARD.--"How was that?" - -MRS. FAIRFIELD (rocking herself to and fro in her chair.)--"Oh! -my Lady was her godmother--Lady Lansmere I mean--and took a fancy to her -when she was that high! and had her to stay at the Park, and wait on her -ladyship; and then she put her to school, and Nora was so clever that -nothing would do but she must go to London as a governess. But don't -talk of it, boy! don't talk of it!" - -LEONARD.--"Why not, mother? what has become of her? where is -she?" - -MRS. FAIRFIELD (bursting into a paroxysm of tears.)--"In her -grave--in her cold grave! Dead, dead!" - -Leonard was inexpressibly grieved and shocked. -It is the attribute of the poet to seem always living, always a friend. -Leonard felt as if some one very dear had been suddenly torn from his -heart. He tried to console his mother; but her emotion was contagious, -and he wept with her. - -"And how long has she been dead?" he asked at last, in mournful accents. - -"Many's the long year, many; but," added Mrs. Fairfield, rising, and -putting her tremulous hand on Leonard's shoulder, "you'll just never -talk to me about her--I can't bear it--it breaks my heart. I can bear -better to talk of Mark--come down stairs--come." - -"May I not keep these verses, mother? Do let me." - -"Well, well, those bits o' paper be all she left behind her--yes, keep -them, but put back Mark's. Are _they_ all here?--sure?" And the -widow, though she could not read her husband's verses, looked jealously -at the MSS. written in his irregular large scrawl, and, smoothing them -carefully, replaced them in the trunk, and resettled over them some -sprigs of lavender, which Leonard had unwittingly disturbed. - -"But," said Leonard, as his eye again rested on the beautiful -handwriting of his lost aunt--"but you call her Nora--I see she signs -herself L." - -"Leonora was her name. I said she was my Lady's god-child. We called her -Nora for short--" - -"Leonora--and I am Leonard--is that how I came by the name?" - -"Yes, yes--do hold your tongue, boy," sobbed poor Mrs. Fairfield; and -she could not be soothed nor coaxed into continuing or renewing a -subject which was evidently associated with insupportable pain. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -It is difficult to exaggerate the effect that this discovery produced on -Leonard's train of thought. Some one belonging to his own humble race -had, then, preceded him in his struggling flight toward the loftier -regions of Intelligence and Desire. It was like the mariner amidst -unknown seas, who finds carved upon some desert isle a familiar -household name. And this creature of genius and of sorrow--whose -existence he had only learned by her song, and whose death created, in -the simple heart of her sister, so passionate a grief, after the lapse -of so many years--supplied to the romance awaking in his young heart the -ideal which it unconsciously sought. He was pleased to hear that she had -been beautiful and good. He paused from his books to muse on her, and -picture her image to his fancy. That there was some mystery in her fate -was evident to him; and while that conviction deepened his interest, the -mystery itself, by degrees, took a charm which he was not anxious to -dispel. He resigned himself to Mrs. Fairfield's obstinate silence. He -was contented to rank the dead among those holy and ineffable images -which we do not seek to unvail. Youth and Fancy have many secret hoards -of idea which they do not desire to impart, even to those most in their -confidence. I doubt the depth of feeling in any man who has not certain -recesses in his soul into which none may enter. - -Hitherto, as I have said, the talents of Leonard Fairfield had been more -turned to things positive than to the ideal; to science and -investigation of fact than to poetry, and that airier truth in which -poetry has its element. He had read our greater poets, indeed, but -without thought of imitating; and rather from the general curiosity to -inspect all celebrated monuments of the human mind, than from that -especial predilection for verse which is too common in childhood and -youth to be any sure sign of a poet. But now these melodies, unknown to -all the world beside, rang in his ear, mingled with his thoughts--set, -as it were, his whole life to music. He read poetry with a different -sentiment--it seemed to him that he had discovered its secret. And so -reading, the passion seized him, and "the numbers came." - -To many minds, at the commencement of our grave and earnest pilgrimage, -I am Vandal enough to think that the indulgence of poetic taste and -reverie does great and lasting harm; that it serves to enervate the -character, give false ideas of life, impart the semblance of drudgery to -the noble toils and duties of the active man. All poetry would not do -this--not, for instance, the Classical, in its diviner masters--not the -poetry of Homer, of Virgil, of Sophocles--not, perhaps, even that of the -indolent Horace. But the poetry which youth usually loves and -appreciates the best--the poetry of mere sentiment--does so in minds -already over predisposed to the sentimental, and which require bracing -to grow into healthful manhood. - -On the other hand, even this latter kind of poetry, which is peculiarly -modern, does suit many minds of another mould--minds which our modern -life, with its hard positive forms, tends to produce. And as in certain -climates plants and herbs, peculiarly adapted as antidotes to those -diseases most prevalent in the atmosphere, are profusely sown, as it -were, by the benignant providence of nature--so it may be that the -softer and more romantic species of poetry, which comes forth in harsh, -money-making, unromantic times, is intended as curatives and -counter-poisons. The world is so much with us, nowadays, that we need -have something that prates to us, albeit even in too fine an euphuism, -of the moon and stars. - -Certes, to Leonard Fairfield, at that period of his intellectual life, -the softness of our Helicon descended as healing dews. In his turbulent -and unsettled ambition, in his vague grapple with the giant forms of -political truths, in his bias toward the application of science to -immediate practical purposes, this lovely vision of the Muse came in the -white robe of the Peacemaker; and with upraised hand, pointing to -serene skies, she opened to him fair glimpses of the Beautiful, which is -given to Peasant as to Prince--showed to him that on the surface of -earth there is something nobler than fortune--that he who can view the -world as a poet is always at soul a king; while to practical purpose -itself, that larger and more profound invention, which poetry -stimulates, supplied the grand design and the subtle view--leading him -beyond the mere ingenuity of the mechanic, and habituating him to regard -the inert force of the matter at his command with the ambition of the -Discoverer. But, above all, the discontent that was within him finding a -vent, not in deliberate war upon this actual world, but through the -purifying channels of song--in the vent itself it evaporated, it was -lost. By accustoming ourselves to survey all things with the spirit that -retains and reproduces them only in their lovelier or grander aspects, a -vast philosophy of toleration for what we before gazed on with scorn or -hate insensibly grows upon us. Leonard looked into his heart after the -enchantress had breathed upon it; and through the mists of the fleeting -and tender melancholy which betrayed where she had been, he beheld a new -sun of delight and joy dawning over the landscape of human life. - -Thus, though she was dead and gone from his actual knowledge, this -mysterious kinswoman--"a voice and nothing more"--had spoken to him, -soothed, elevated, cheered, attuned each discord into harmony; and, if -now permitted from some serener sphere to behold the life that her soul -thus strangely influenced, verily, with yet holier joy, the saving and -lovely spirit might have glided onward in the Eternal Progress. - -We call the large majority of human lives _obscure_. Presumptuous -that we are! How know we what lives a single thought retained from the -dust of nameless graves may have lighted to renown? - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - - -It was about a year after Leonard's discovery of the family MSS. that -Parson Dale borrowed the quietest pad mare in the Squire's stables, and -set out on an equestrian excursion. He said that he was bound on -business connected with his old parishioners of Lansmere; for, as it has -been incidentally implied in a previous chapter, he had been connected -with that borough town (and, I may here add, in the capacity of curate) -before he had been inducted into the living of Hazeldean. - -It was so rarely that the Parson stirred from home, that this journey to -a town more than twenty miles off was regarded as a most daring -adventure, both at the Hall and at the Parsonage. Mrs. Dale could not -sleep the whole previous night with thinking of it; and though she had -naturally one of her worst nervous headaches on the eventful morn, she -yet suffered no hands less thoughtful than her own to pack up the -saddlebags which the Parson had borrowed along with the pad. Nay, so -distrustful was she of the possibility of the good man's exerting the -slightest common sense in her absence, that she kept him close at her -side while she was engaged in that same operation of packing up--showing -him the exact spot in which the clean shirt was put, and how nicely the -old slippers were packed up in one of his own sermons. She implored him -not to mistake the sandwiches for his shaving-soap, and made him observe -how carefully she had provided against such confusion, by placing them -as far apart from each other as the nature of saddlebags will admit. The -poor Parson--who was really by no means an absent man, but as little -likely to shave himself with sandwiches and lunch upon soap as the most -common-place mortal may be--listened with conjugal patience, and thought -that man never had such a wife before; nor was it without tears in his -own eyes that he tore himself from the farewell embrace of his weeping -Carry. - -I confess, however, that it was with some apprehension that he set his -foot in the stirrup, and trusted his person to the mercies of an -unfamiliar animal. For whatever might be Mr. Dale's minor -accomplishments as a man and parson, horsemanship was not his forte. -Indeed, I doubt if he had taken the reins in his hand more than twice -since he had been married. - -The Squire's surly old groom, Mat, was in attendance with the pad; and, -to the Parson's gentle inquiry whether Mat was quite sure that the pad -was quite safe, replied laconically, "Oi, oi, give her her head." - -"Give her her head!" repeated Mr. Dale, rather amazed, for he had not -the slightest intention of taking away that part of the beast's frame, -so essential to its vital economy--"Give her her head!" - -"Oi, oi; and don't jerk her up like that, or she'll fall a doincing on -her hind-legs." - -The Parson instantly slackened the reins; and Mrs. Dale--who had tarried -behind to control her tears--now running to the door for "more last -words," he waved his hand with courageous amenity, and ambled forth into -the lane. - -Our equestrian was absorbed at first in studying the idiosyncrasies of -the pad, and trying thereby to arrive at some notion of her general -character: guessing, for instance, why she raised one ear and laid down -the other; why she kept bearing so close to the left that she brushed -his leg against the hedge; and why, when she arrived at a little -side-gate in the fields, which led toward the home-farm, she came to a -full stop, and fell to rubbing her nose against the rail--an occupation -from which the Parson, finding all civil remonstrances in vain, at -length diverted her by a timorous application of the whip. - -This crisis on the road fairly passed, the pad seemed to comprehend that -she had a journey before her, and giving a petulant whisk of her tail, -quickened her amble into a short trot, which soon brought the Parson -into the high road, and nearly opposite the Casino. - -Here, sitting on the gate which led to his abode, and shaded by his -umbrella, he beheld Dr. Riccabocca. - -The Italian lifted his eyes from the book he was reading, and stared -hard at the Parson; and he--not venturing to withdraw his whole -attention from the pad (who, indeed, set up both her ears at the -apparition of Riccabocca, and evinced symptoms of that surprise and -superstitious repugnance at unknown objects which goes by the name of -"shying"), looked askance at Riccabocca. - -"Don't stir, please," said the Parson, "or I fear you'll alarm this -creature; it seems a nervous, timid thing;--soho--gently--gently." - -And he fell to patting the mare with great unction. - -The pad thus encouraged, overcame her first natural astonishment at the -sight of Riccabocca and the red umbrella; and having before been in the -Casino on sundry occasions, and sagaciously preferring places within the -range of experience to bournes neither cognate nor conjecturable, she -moved gravely up toward the gate on which the Italian sate; and, after -eying him a moment--as much as to say, "I wish you would get off"--came -to a dead lock. - -"Well," said Riccabocca, "since your horse seems more disposed to be -polite to me than yourself, Mr. Dale, I take the opportunity of your -present involuntary pause to congratulate you on your elevation in life, -and to breathe a friendly prayer that pride may not have a fall!" - -"Tut," said the Parson, affecting an easy air, though still -contemplating the pad, who appeared to have fallen into a quiet doze, -"It is true that I have not ridden much of late years, and the Squire's -horses are very high fed and spirited; but there is no more harm in them -than their master when one once knows their ways." - - "Chi và piano, và sano, - E chi va sano và lontano," - -said Riccabocca, pointing to the saddle-bags. "You go slowly, therefore -safely; and he who goes safely may go far. You seem prepared for a -journey?" - -"I am," said the Parson; "and on a matter that concerns you a little." - -"Me!" exclaimed Riccabocca--"concerns me!" - -"Yes, so far as the chance of depriving you of a servant whom you like -and esteem affects you." - -"Oh," said Riccabocca, "I understand: you have hinted to me very often -that I or knowledge, or both together, have unfitted Leonard Fairfield -for service." - -"I did not say that exactly; I said that you have fitted him for -something higher than service But do not repeat this to him. And I can -not yet say more to you, for I am very doubtful as to the success of my -mission; and it will not do to unsettle poor Leonard until we are sure -that we can improve his condition." - -"Of that you can never be sure," quoth the wise man, shaking his head; -"and I can't say that I am unselfish enough not to bear you a grudge for -seeking to decoy away from me an invaluable servant--faithful, steady, -intelligent, and (added Riccabocca, warming as he approached the -climacteric adjective)--exceedingly cheap! Nevertheless go, and Heaven -speed you. I am not an Alexander, to stand between man and the sun." - -"You are a noble great-hearted creature, Signor Riccabocca, in spite of -your cold-blooded proverbs and villainous books." The Parson, as he said -this, brought down the whip-hand with so indiscreet an enthusiasm on the -pad's shoulder, that the poor beast, startled out of her innocent doze, -made a bolt forward, which nearly precipitated Riccabocca from his seat -on the stile, and then turning round--as the Parson tugged desperately -at the rein--caught the bit between her teeth, and set off at a canter. -The Parson lost both his stirrups; and when he regained them (as the pad -slackened her pace), and had time to breathe and look about him, -Riccabocca and the Casino were both out of sight. - -"Certainly," quoth Parson Dale, as he resettled himself with great -complacency, and a conscious triumph that he was still on the pad's -back--"certainly it is true 'that the noblest conquest ever made by man -was that of the horse:' a fine creature it is--a very fine creature--and -uncommonly difficult to sit on,--especially without stirrups." Firmly in -his stirrups the Parson planted his feet; and the heart within him was -very proud. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - - -Lansmere was situated in the county adjoining that which contained the -village of Hazeldean. Late at noon the Parson crossed the little stream -which divided the two shires, and came to an inn, which was placed at an -angle, where the great main road branched off into two directions--the -one leading toward Lansmere, the other going more direct to London. At -this inn the pad stopped, and put down both ears with the air of a pad -who has made up her mind to bait. And the Parson himself, feeling very -warm, and somewhat sore, said to the pad, benignly: "It is just--thou -shalt have corn and water!". - -Dismounting, therefore, and finding himself very stiff, as soon as he -had reached _terra firma_, the Parson consigned the pad to the -hostler, and walked into the sanded parlor of the inn, to repose himself -on a very hard Windsor chair. - -He had been alone rather more than half-an-hour, reading a county -newspaper which smelt much of tobacco, and trying to keep off the flies -that gathered round him in swarms, as if they had never before seen a -Parson, and were anxious to ascertain how the flesh of him tasted--when -a stage-coach stopped at the inn. A traveler got out with his carpet-bag -in his hand, and was shown into the sanded parlor. - -The Parson rose politely, and made a bow. - -The traveler touched his hat, without taking it off--looked at Mr. Dale -from top to toe--then walked to the window, and whistled a lively, -impatient tune, then strode toward the fireplace and rang the bell; then -stared again at the Parson; and that gentleman having courteously laid -down the newspaper, the traveler seized it, threw himself on a chair, -flung one of his legs over the table, tossed the other up on the -mantle-piece, and began reading the paper, while he tilted the chair on -its hind-legs with so daring a disregard to the ordinary position of -chairs and their occupants, that the shuddering Parson expected every -moment to see him come down on the back of his skull. - -Moved, therefore, to compassion, Mr. Dale said, mildly: - -"Those chairs are very treacherous, sir; I'm afraid you'll be down." - -"Eh," said the traveler, looking up much astonished. "Eh, down?--oh, -you're satirical, sir!" - -"Satirical, sir? upon my word, no!" exclaimed the Parson, earnestly. - -"I think every free-born man has a right to sit as he pleases in his own -house," resumed the traveler, with warmth; "and an inn is his own house, -I guess, so long as he pays his score. Betty, my dear!" - -For the chamber-maid had now replied to the bell. - -"I han't Betty, sir; do you want she?" - -"No, Sally--cold brandy-and-water--and a biscuit." - -"I han't Sally, either," muttered the chamber-maid; but the traveler, -turning round, showed so smart a neckcloth, and so comely a face, that -she smiled, colored, and went her way. - -The traveler now rose, and flung down the paper. He took out a penknife, -and began paring his nails. Suddenly desisting from this elegant -occupation, his eye caught sight of the Parson's shovel-hat, which lay -on a chair in the corner. - -"You're a clergyman, I reckon, sir," said the traveler, with a slight -sneer. - -Again Mr. Dale bowed--bowed in part deprecatingly--in part with dignity. -It was a bow that said, "No offense, sir! but I _am_ a clergyman, and -I'm not ashamed of it!" - -"Going far?" asked the traveler. - -PARSON.--"Not very." - -TRAVELER.--"In a chaise or fly? If so, and we are going the same -way--halves!" - -PARSON.--"Halves?" - -TRAVELER.--"Yes, I'll pay half the damage--pikes inclusive." - -PARSON.--"You are very good, sir: but" (_spoken with pride_), "I am on -horseback." - -TRAVELER.--"On horseback! Well, I should not have guessed that! You -don't look like it. Where did you say you were going?" - -"I did _not_ say where I was going, sir," said the Parson, drily, for he -was much offended at that vague and ungrammatical remark, applicable to -his horsemanship, that "he did not look like it!" - -"Close!" said the traveler, laughing; "an old traveler, I reckon!" - -The Parson made no reply; but he took up his shovel-hat, and, with a bow -more majestic than the previous one, walked out to see if his pad had -finished her corn. - -The animal had indeed finished all the corn afforded to her, which was -not much, and in a few minutes more Mr. Dale resumed his journey. He had -performed about three miles, when the sound of wheels behind made him -turn his head, and he perceived a chaise driven very fast, while out of -the windows thereof dangled strangely a pair of human legs. The pad -began to curvet as the post-horses rattled behind, and the Parson had -only an indistinct vision of a human face supplanting these human legs. -The traveler peered out at him as he whirled by--saw Mr. Dale tossed up -and down on the saddle, and cried out: "How's the leather?" - -"Leather!" soliloquized the Parson, as the pad recomposed herself. "What -does he mean by that? Leather! a very vulgar man. But I got rid of him -cleverly!" - -Mr. Dale arrived without further adventure at Lansmere. He put up at the -principal inn--refreshed himself by a general ablution--and sat down -with good appetite to his beef-steak and pint of port. - -The Parson was a better judge of the physiognomy of man than that of the -horse; and after a satisfactory glance at the civil, smirking landlord, -who removed the cover and set on the wine, he ventured on an attempt at -conversation. "Is my lord at the park?" - -Landlord, still more civilly than before: "No, sir; his lordship and my -lady have gone to town to meet Lord L'Estrange." - -"Lord L'Estrange! He is in England, then?" - -"Why, so I heard," replied the landlord; "but we never see him here now. -I remember him a very pretty young man. Every one was fond of him, and -proud of him. But what pranks he did play when he was a lad! We hoped he -would come in for our boro' some of these days, but he has taken to -foren parts--more's the pity. I am a reg'lar Blue, sir, as I ought to -be. The Blue candidate always does me the honor to come to the Lansmere -Arms. 'Tis only the low party puts up with The Boar," added the -landlord, with a look of ineffable disgust. "I hope you like the wine, -sir?" - -"Very good, and seems old." - -"Bottled these eighteen years, sir. I had in the cask for the great -election of Dashmore and Egerton. I have little left of it, and I never -give it but to old friends like--for, I think, sir, though you be grown -stout, and look more grand, I may say that I've had the pleasure of -seeing you before." - -"That's true, I dare say, though I fear I was never a very good -customer." - -LANDLORD.--"Ah, it _is_ Mr. Dale, then! I thought so when you came into -the hall. I hope your lady is quite well, and the Squire, too; a fine -pleasant-spoken gentleman; no fault of his if Mr. Egerton went wrong. -Well, we have never seen him--I mean Mr. Egerton--since that time. I -don't wonder he stays away; but my lord's son, who was brought up -here--it an't nat'ral-like that he should turn his back on us!" - -Mr. Dale made no reply, and the landlord was about to retire, when the -Parson, pouring out another glass of the port, said: "There must be -great changes in the parish. Is Mr. Morgan, the medical man, still -here?" - -"No, indeed; he took out his ploma after you left, and became a real -doctor; and a pretty practice he had, too, when he took, all of a -sudden, to some new-fangled way of physicking--I think they calls it -homy-something--" - -"Homoeopathy?" - -"That's it--something against all reason; and so he lost his practice -here and went up to Lunnun. I have not heard of him since." - -"Do the Avenels keep their old house?" - -"Oh yes!--and are pretty well off, I hear say. John is always poorly; -though he still goes now and then to the Odd Fellows, and takes his -glass; but his wife comes and fetches him away before he can do himself -any harm." - -"Mrs. Avenel is the same as ever." - -"She holds her head higher, I think," said the landlord, smiling. "She -was always--not exactly proud like, but what I calls gumptious." - -"I never heard that word before," said the Parson, laying down his knife -and fork. "Bumptious, indeed, though I believe it is not in the -dictionary, has crept into familiar parlance, especially among young -folks at school and college." - -"Bumptious is bumptious, and gumptious is gumptious," said the landlord, -delighted to puzzle a Parson. "Now the town beadle is bumptious and Mrs. -Avenel is gumptious." - -"She is a very respectable woman," said Mr. Dale, somewhat rebukingly. - -"In course, sir, all gumptious folks are; they value themselves on their -respectability, and looks down on their neighbors." - -PARSON (still philologically occupied). "Gumptious--gumptious. -I think I remember the substantive at school--not that my master taught -it to me. 'Gumption,' it means cleverness." - -LANDLORD, (doggedly).--"There's gumption and gumptious! -Gumption is knowing; but when I say sum un is gumptious, I mean--though -that's more vulgar like--sum un who does not think small beer of -hisself. You take me, sir?" - -"I think I do," said the Parson, half-smiling. "I believe the Avenels -have only two of their children alive still--their daughter, who married -Mark Fairfield, and a son who went off to America?" - -"Ah, but he made his fortune there, and has come back." - -"Indeed! I'm very glad to hear it. He has settled at Lansmere?" - -"No, sir. I hear as he's bought a property a long way off. But he comes -to see his parents pretty often--so John tells me--but I can't say that -I ever see him. I fancy Dick doesn't like to be seen by folks who -remember him playing in the kennel." - -"Not unnatural," said the Parson indulgently; "but he visits his -parents; he is a good son, at all events, then?" - -"I've nothing to say against him. Dick was a wild chap before he took -himself off. I never thought he would make his fortune; but the Avenels -are a clever set. Do you remember poor Nora--the Rose of Lansmere, as -they called her? Ah, no, I think she went up to Lunnun afore your time, -sir." - -"Humph!" said the Parson drily. "Well, I think you may take away now. It -will be dark soon, and I'll just stroll out and look about me." - -"There's a nice tart coming, sir." - -"Thank you, I've dined." - -The Parson put on his hat and sallied forth into the streets. He eyed -the houses on either hand with that melancholy and wistful interest with -which, in middle life, we revisit scenes familiar to us in -youth--surprised to find either so little change or so much, and -recalling, by fits and snatches, old associations and past emotions. - -The long High-street which he threaded now began to change its bustling -character, and slide, as it were gradually, into the high road of a -suburb. On the left, the houses gave way to the moss-grown pales of -Lansmere Park: to the right, though houses still remained, they were -separated from each other by gardens, and took the pleasing appearance -of villas--such villas as retired tradesmen or their widows, old maids, -and half-pay officers, select for the evening of their days. - -Mr. Dale looked at these villas with the deliberate attention of a man -awakening his power of memory, and at last stopped before one, almost -the last on the road, and which faced the broad patch of sward that lay -before the lodge of Lansmere Park. An old pollard oak stood near it, and -from the oak there came a low discordant sound: it was the hungry cry of -young ravens, awaiting the belated return of the parent bird. Mr. Dale -put his hand to his brow, paused a moment, and then, with a hurried -step, passed through the little garden and knocked at the door. A light -was burning in the parlor, and Mr. Dale's eye caught through the window -a vague outline of three forms. There was an evident bustle within at -the sound of the knocks. One of the forms rose and disappeared. A very -prim, neat, middle-aged maid-servant, now appeared at the threshold, and -austerely inquired the visitor's business. - -"I want to see Mr. or Mrs. Avenel. Say that I have come many miles to -see them; and take in this card." - -The maid-servant took the card, and half-closed the door. At least three -minutes elapsed before she re-appeared. - -"Missis says it's late, sir; but walk in." - -The Parson accepted the not very gracious invitation, stepped across the -little hall, and entered the parlor. - -Old John Avenel, a mild-looking man, who seemed slightly paralytic, rose -slowly from his arm-chair. Mrs. Avenel, in an awfully stiff, clean, and -Calvinistical cap, and a gray dress, every fold of which bespoke -respectability and staid repute--stood erect on the floor, and, fixing -on the Parson a cold and cautious eye, said-- - -"You do the like of us great honor, Mr. Dale--take a chair! You call -upon business?" - -"Of which I have apprised you by letter, Mr. Avenel." - -"My husband is very poorly." - -"A poor creature!" said John feebly, and as if in compassion of himself. -"I can't get about as I used to do. But it ben't near election time, be -it, sir." - -"No, John," said Mrs. Avenel, placing her husband's arm within her own. -"You must lie down a bit, while I talk to the gentleman." - -"I'm a real good blue," said poor John; "but I ain't quite the man I -was;" and, leaning heavily on his wife, he left the room, turning round -at the threshold, and saying, with, great urbanity--"Any thing to -oblige, sir?" - -Mr. Dale was much touched. He had remembered John Avenel the comeliest, -the most active, and the most cheerful man in Lansmere; great at glee -club and cricket (though then stricken in years), greater in vestries; -reputed greatest in elections. - -"Last scene of all," murmured the Parson; "and oh well, turning from the -poet, may we cry with the disbelieving philosopher. 'Poor, poor -humanity!'"[14] - -[Footnote 14: Mr. Dale probably here alludes to Lord Bolingbroke's -ejaculation as he stood by the dying Pope; but his memory does not serve -him with the exact words.] - -In a few minutes Mrs. Avenel returned. She took a chair, at some -distance from the Parson's, and, resting one hand on the elbow of the -chair, while with the other she stiffly smoothed the stiff gown, she -said-- - -"Now, sir." - -That "Now, sir," had in its sound something sinister and warlike. This -the shrewd Parson recognized, with his usual tact. He edged his chair -nearer to Mrs. Avenel, and placing his hand on hers-- - -"Yes, now then, and as friend to friend." - - (_To be continued._) - - - - -VICTIMS OF SCIENCE. - - -There is a proverb which says, "Better is the enemy of well." Perhaps we -may go further, and say, that "Well sometimes makes us regret bad." - -You would have confessed the truth of this latter axiom if you had -known, as I did, an excellent young man named Horace Castillet, who had -been gifted by Providence with good health, powerful intellect, an -amiable disposition, and many other perfections, accompanied by one -single drawback. He had a distorted spine and crooked limbs, the -consciousness of which defects prevented him from rushing into the -gayety and vain dissipation which so often ensnare youth. Forsaking the -flowery paths of love and pleasure, he steadily pursued the rough, -up-hill road of diligent, persevering study. He wrought with ardor, and -already success crowned his efforts. Doubtless bitter regrets sometimes -troubled his hours of solitary study, but he was amply consoled by the -prospect of fortune and well-earned fame which lay before him. So he -always appeared in society amiable and cheerful, enlivening the social -circle with the sallies of his wit and genius. He used sometimes to say, -laughing: "Fair ladies, mock me, but I will take my revenge by obliging -them to admire!" - -One day a surgeon of high repute met Horace, and said to him: "I can -repair the wrong which nature has done you: profit by the late -discoveries of science, and be, at the same time, a great and a handsome -man." Horace consented. During some months he retired from society, and -when he reappeared, his most intimate friends could scarcely recognize -him. "Yes," said he, "it is I myself: this tall, straight, well-made man -is your friend Horace Castillet. Behold the miracle which science has -wrought! This metamorphosis has cost me cruel suffering. For months I -lay stretched on a species of rack, and endured the tortures of a -prisoner in the Inquisition. But I bore them all, and here I am, a new -creature! Now, gay comrades, lead me whither you will; let me taste the -pleasures of the world, without any longer having to fear its raillery!" - -If the name of Horace Castillet is unspoken among those of great men--if -it is now sunk in oblivion, shall we not blame for this the science -which he so much lauded? Deeply did the ardent young man drink of this -world's poisoned springs. Farewell to study, fame, and glory! Æsop, -perhaps, might never have composed his Fables had orthopedia been -invented in his time. Horace Castillet lost not only his talents, but a -large legacy destined for him by an uncle, in order to make him amends -for his natural defects. His uncle, seeing him no longer deformed in -body and upright in mind, chose another heir. After having spent the -best years of his life in idleness and dissipation, Horace is now poor, -hopeless, and miserable. He said lately to one of his few remaining -friends: "I was ignorant of the treasure I possessed. I have -acted like the traveler who should throw away his property in order to -walk more lightly across a plain!" - -The surgeon had another deformed patient, a very clever working -mechanic, whose talents made him rich and happy. When he was perfectly -cured, and about to return to his workshop, the conscription seized -him, finding him fit to serve the state. He was sent to Africa, and -perished there in battle. - -A gentleman who had the reputation of being an original thinker, could -not speak without a painful stutter; a skillful operator restored to him -the free use of his tongue, and the world, to its astonishment, -discovered that he was little better than a fool! Hesitation had given a -sort of originality to his discourse. He had time to reflect before he -spoke. Stopping short in the middle of a sentence had occasionally a -happy effect; and a half-spoken word seemed to imply far more than it -expressed. But when the flow of his language was no longer restrained, -he began to listen to his own commonplace declamation with a complacency -which assuredly was not shared by his auditors. - -One fine day a poor blind man was seated on the Pont-Royal in Paris, -waiting for alms. The passers-by were bestowing their money liberally, -when a handsome carriage stopped near the mendicant, and a celebrated -oculist stepped out. He went up to the blind man, examined his eyeballs, -and said--"Come with me; I will restore your sight." The beggar obeyed; -the operation was successful; and the journals of the day were filled -with praises of the doctor's skill and philanthropy. The ex-blind man -subsisted for some time on a small sum of money which his benefactor had -given him; and when it was spent, he returned to his former post on the -Pont-Royal. Scarcely, however, had he resumed his usual appeal, when a -policeman laid his hand on him, and ordered him to desist, on pain of -being taken up. - -"You mistake," said the mendicant, producing a paper; "here is my legal -license to beg, granted by the magistrates." - -"Stuff!" cried the official; "this license is for a _blind_ man, and you -seem to enjoy excellent sight." Our hero, in despair, ran to the -oculist's house, intending to seek compensation for the doubtful benefit -conferred on him; but the man of science had gone on a tour through -Germany, and the aggrieved patient found himself compelled to adopt the -hard alternative of _working_ for his support, and abandoning the easy -life of a professed beggar. - -Some years since there appeared on the boards of a Parisian theatre an -excellent and much-applauded comic actor named Samuel. Like many a wiser -man before him, he fell deeply in love with a beautiful girl, and wrote -to offer her his hand, heart, and his yearly salary of 8000 francs. A -flat refusal was returned. Poor Samuel rivaled his comrade, the head -tragedian of the company, in his dolorous expressions of despair; but -when, after a time, his excitement cooled down, he dispatched a friend, -a trusty envoy, with a commission to try and soften the hard-hearted -beauty. Alas, it was in vain! - -"She does not like you," said the candid embassador; "she says you are -ugly; that your eyes frighten her; and, besides, she is about to be -married to a young man whom she loves." - -Fresh exclamations of despair from Samuel. - -"Come," said his friend, after musing for a while, "if this marriage be, -as I suspect, all a sham, you may have her yet." - -"Explain yourself?" - -"You know that, not to mince the matter, you have a frightful squint?" - -"I know it." - -"Science will remove that defect by an easy and almost painless -operation." No sooner said than done. Samuel underwent the operation for -strabismus, and it succeeded perfectly. His eyes were now straight -and handsome; but the marriage, after all, was no sham--the lady became -another's, and poor Samuel was forced to seek for consolation in the -exercise of his profession. He was to appear in his best character: the -curtain rose, and loud hissing saluted him. - -"Samuel!" "Where is Samuel?" "We want Samuel!" was vociferated by pit -and gallery. - -When silence was partly restored, the actor advanced to the footlights -and said--"Here I am, gentlemen: I am Samuel!" - -"Out with the impostor!" was the cry, and such a tumult arose, that the -unlucky actor was forced to fly from the stage. He had lost the -grotesque expression, the comic mask, which used to set the house in a -roar: he could no longer appear in his favorite characters. The -operation for strabismus had changed his destiny: he was unfitted for -tragedy, and was forced, after a time, to take the most insignificant -parts, which barely afforded him a scanty subsistence. "Let _well_ -alone" is a wise admonition: "Let _bad_ alone" may sometimes be a -wiser. - - - - -ADDRESS TO GRAY HAIR. - - - Thou silvery braid, now banded o'er my brow, - Before thy monitory voice I bow; - Obedient to thy mandate, youth forget, - And strive thy word to hear without regret. - Why should regret attend that onward change, - Which tells that time is coming to its range-- - Its border line, which God approves and seals, - As crown of glory to the man who feels - Content in ways of righteousness to dwell? - To such gray hair does not of weakness tell; - But rays of glory light its silv'ry tint, - And change its summons to a gentle hint - That time from all is fading fast away, - But that to some its end is lasting day; - And that the angels view its pure white band, - As seal of glory from their master's hand, - And closer draw, the near ripe fruit to shield, - Until to heaven its produce they can yield. - - - - -Monthly Record of Current Events. - - - - -POLITICAL AND GENERAL NEWS. - - -THE UNITED STATES. - -Congress adjourned, as required by the Constitution, on the fourth of -March. The protracted character of the discussions of the session -compelled final action upon nearly all the important bills at the very -close of the session; and as a natural consequence many bills which have -challenged a marked degree of attention, were not passed. The bill -making appropriations for the improvement of Rivers and Harbors, which -had passed the House, was sent into the Senate, but was not passed by -that body. The bills making appropriations in aid of the American line -of steamers,--that authorizing and aiding the establishment of a line of -steamers to Liberia,--the bill providing for the payment of French -spoliations,--the one appropriating lands to aid in the establishment of -Asylums for the insane, and a great number of other bills, of decided -importance, but of less general interest than these, were lost. Sundry -valuable bills, however, were duly acted upon and passed into laws. A -joint resolution was adopted authorizing the President to grant the use -of a ship attached to the American squadron in the Mediterranean for the -use of Kossuth and his companions in coming to this country, after they -shall have been liberated by the Turkish authorities. A very interesting -letter from the Secretary of State to the American Minister at -Constantinople, in regard to the Hungarian exiles, has just been -published. Mr. WEBSTER refers to the fact, that under the convention -between Austria and Turkey, the term of one year for which the exiles -were to be confined within the limits of the Turkish empire, would soon -expire: and the hope is confidently expressed that the Sublime Porte has -not made, and will not make, any new stipulations for their detention. -Mr. MARSH is instructed to address himself urgently, though -respectfully, to the Turkish government upon this question, and to -convince it that no improper interference with the affairs of another -nation is intended by this application. The course of the Sublime Porte, -in refusing to allow these exiles to be seized by the Austrians, -although "the demand upon him was made by a government confident in its -great military power, with armies in the field of vast strength, flushed -with recent victory, and whose purposes were not to be thwarted, or -their pursuit stayed, by any obstacle less than the interposition of an -empire prepared to maintain the inviolability of its territories, and -its absolute sovereignty over its own soil," is warmly applauded, and -his generosity in providing for their support, is commended in the -highest terms of admiration. Mr. WEBSTER proceeds to say that "it is not -difficult to conceive what may have been the considerations which led -the Sublime Porte to consent to remove these persons from its frontiers, -require them to repair to the interior, and there to remain for a -limited time. A great attempt at revolution, against the established -authorities of a neighboring State, with which the Sublime Porte was at -peace, had only been suppressed. The chief actors in that attempt had -escaped into the dominions of the Porte. To permit them to remain upon -its frontiers, where they might project new undertakings against that -State, and into which, if circumstances favored, they could enter in -arms at any time, might well have been considered dangerous to both -governments; and the Sublime Porte, while protecting them, might -certainly, also, prevent their occupying any such position in its own -dominions, as should give just cause of alarm to a neighboring and -friendly power. Their removal to certain localities might also be -rendered desirable by considerations of convenience to the Sublime -Porte, itself, upon whose charity and generosity such numbers had -suddenly become dependent. The detention of these persons for a short -period of time, in order that they might not at once repair to other -parts of Europe, to renew their operations, was a request that it was -not unnatural to make, and was certainly in the discretion of the -Sublime Porte to grant, without any sacrifice of its dignity, or any -want of kindness toward the refugees." But now all danger from this -source has disappeared. The attempts of these exiles to establish for -their country an independent government have been sternly crushed: their -estates have been confiscated, their families dispersed, and themselves -driven into exile. Their only wish now is to remove from the scene of -their conflict and find new homes in the vast interior of the United -States. The people of the United States wait to receive these exiles on -their shores, and they trust that, through the generosity of the Turkish -government, they may be released. - -A bill was also passed reducing the rates of postage on letters and -newspapers throughout the United States. All letters weighing not more -than half-an-ounce are charged _three_ cents if prepaid; -_five_ cents if not prepaid, for all distances under three thousand -miles;--over three thousand miles, they pay twice these rates. Upon -newspapers the imposition of postage is quite complicated. The following -statement shows the rates charged to regular subscribers, who pay -postage quarterly in advance, comparing, also, the new postage with the -old: - - Miles. Weekly. Semi- Daily. - Weekly. - - Under 50 (new bill) 5 cts. 10 25 - Present rate 12 24 48 - Over 50-under 300 10 20 50 - Present rate 18 36 108 - Over 300-under 1000 15 30 75 - Present rate 18 36 108 - Over 1000-under 2000 20 40 100 - Present rate 18 36 108 - Over 2000-under 4000 25 50 125 - Present rate 18 36 108 - Over 4000 30 60 150 - -Papers weighing less than an ounce and a half pay half these rates; -papers measuring less than three hundred square-inches pay one-fourth. -On monthly and semi-monthly papers the same rates are paid, in -proportion to the number of sheets, as weekly papers. All weekly papers -are free within the county where they are published. Although the bill -does not reduce postage quite as low as was very generally desired, it -is still a decided advance upon the old law. The experience of the past -has shown that reduced rates increase the revenue. - -The usual appropriation bills were passed, as were also bills giving the -Colonization Society forty thousand dollars, for expenses incurred in -supporting the Africans recaptured from the Pons; appointing appraisers -at large, to look into the doings of the local appraisers; repealing -constructive mileage; repaying Maine money, formerly advanced to the -General Government; and establishing an asylum for soldiers, infirm and -disabled, who have served twenty years, or been disabled by wounds or -disease--the money for its support to be fines and stoppages of pay of -soldiers punished by courts-martial, and one hundred thousand dollars -levied by General Scott in Mexico. - -A good deal of excitement was created by the rescue at Boston of a -person claimed and arrested as a fugitive slave, under the law of the -last session. The rescue was effected by a mob, mainly of colored men, -who rushed into the room where the alleged fugitive was in custody of -the officers, took him therefrom, and started him on his way to Canada, -where he safely arrived soon after. Intelligence of the affair was -transmitted by telegraph to Washington. The President issued a -proclamation, commanding obedience to the laws, and sent a message to -Congress, narrating the facts, and stating that the whole power of the -Government should be used to enforce the laws. The matter was referred -to the Judiciary Committee in the Senate, from which two reports were -made--one by Mr. BRADBURY, of Maine, stating that the President -possessed all needful power, and the other from Mr. BUTLER, of South -Carolina, arguing that the President could not call out either the army -and navy or the militia to suppress an insurrection, without having -previously issued a proclamation. No further action upon the subject was -had in Congress, but a great number of arrests have been made in Boston -of persons charged with participation in the rescue. - -Unsuccessful attempts to elect U. S. Senators have been renewed in New -York, and Massachusetts. In New Jersey Commodore R. F. STOCKTON, -Democrat; and in Ohio Hon. BENJAMIN F. WADE, Free Soil Whig, have been -elected to the U. S. Senate. - -In New Hampshire two Whig and two Democratic Members of Congress have -been elected. There is a Democratic majority in the Senate; in the House -parties are very nearly balanced, each, at present, claiming the -majority. The Free Soilers, apparently, hold the balance of power. The -Governor will be chosen by the Legislature, there being no choice by the -people; the regular Democratic candidate has a decided plurality over -either of his opponents. - -In Virginia, the State election has been postponed from April to -October. This has been done in consequence of the unsettled state of -affairs growing out of the deliberations of the State Constitutional -Convention. It is supposed that the draft of the New Constitution will -be completed so that it may be submitted to the people at that time. - -An Act to exempt Homesteads from sale on execution, has passed the -General Assembly of Illinois, and is to take effect on the 4th of July -next. It provides that in addition to property now exempt from -execution, the lot of ground and buildings occupied as a residence by -any debtor being a householder, shall be free from levy or forced sale -for debts contracted after the above date, provided that the value shall -not exceed one thousand dollars. This exemption is to continue, after -the death of the owner, for the benefit of the widow and children, until -the death of the widow, and until the youngest child shall reach the age -of twenty-one years. Provisions are made for levying upon the amount of -the value of property above one thousand dollars. - -Upon the same day, a bill to exempt from levy upon execution, bed, -furniture and tools, to an amount not exceeding one hundred dollars, -becomes a law in Delaware. A license law, containing extremely stringent -provisions, has been passed in this State. - -A Bill has passed the Legislature of Iowa, prohibiting the immigration -of negroes. They are required to leave the State after receiving three -days' notice of the law, and in case of returning are liable to -penalties. - -Manufactures are advancing in some of the Southern States, especially in -Georgia. A few days since a large quantity of cotton yarn was shipped -from Augusta to find markets in New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. - -Emigration from the Old World, and especially from Germany, is setting -strongly into Texas, Houston and Galveston, with a population of 8000, -have 2000 Germans. An effort is made to appropriate a considerable part -of the ten millions received from the United States, to the purposes of -popular education. Indian depredations occur along the western frontier. -Two engagements, attended with loss of life on both sides, have recently -taken place between the troops of the United States and the Indians. An -expedition is to be organized against the Comanches. - -Intelligence from the Boundary Commission has been received up to -December 31st. The initial point from which the survey is to commence -has been agreed upon by both sides. It is to be at a point on the Rio -Grande in latitude 32 degrees 22 minutes. The precise point is to be -ascertained by the astronomers, and will probably be about 20 miles to -the northward of El Paso. The time of completing the survey is variously -estimated at from one to three years. - -From CALIFORNIA there have been three arrivals since our last, bringing -an aggregate of $1,700,000 in gold, and between 700 and 800 passengers. -Our dates are up to the 1st of February. The intelligence of most -importance is that of desperate hostilities between the Indians and the -whites. The former seem to have determined upon a war of extermination, -which of course meets with prompt retaliation; and the ultimate issue -can be no matter of uncertainty. Seventy-two miners were attacked by -surprise in a gulch near Rattlesnake Creek, and massacred to a man. A -petition for aid was dispatched to the Executive of the State, -and a force of 200 men ordered out. In the instructions to the -commander, directions are given studiously to avoid any act calculated -unnecessarily to exasperate the Indians. A daring attack was made on the -9th of January, by a company of 40 or 50 Americans, upon an intrenched -camp, manned by 400 or 500 Indians. The position was so strong that a -dozen whites might have defended it against thousands. Of the Indians 44 -were killed, and the _rancheria_ fired. Many of the aged and children -were burned to death. Of the Americans two were killed, and five or six -wounded. It is reported that all the Indians from Oregon to the Colorado -are leagued together, and have sworn eternal hostility to the white -race. - -The product of gold continues to be great. The report of the new gold -bluffs, mentioned in our last Number, is confirmed; but the access to -them is so difficult that they will not probably be soon available. They -are situated near the mouth of the Klamath River, about thirty miles -north of Trinidad. The approach to them by land is over a plain of sand, -into which the traveler sinks ankle-deep at every step. The bluffs -stretch along some five or six miles, and present a perpendicular front -to the ocean of from 100 to 400 feet in height. In ordinary weather the -beach at the foot is from 20 to 50 feet in width, composed of a mixture -of gray and black sand, the latter containing the gold in scales so fine -that they can not be separated by the ordinary process of washing; so -that resort must be had to chemical means. The beach changes with every -tide, and sometimes no black, auriferous sand is to be seen on the -surface. By digging down, it is found mixed with a gray sand, which -largely predominates. The violence of the surf renders landing in boats -impracticable. Several tons of goods were landed from a steamer -dispatched thither, by means of lines from the vessel to the shore. The -Pacific Mining Company claim a large portion of the beach, and have made -preparations for working the bluffs, and are sanguine of an extremely -profitable result. - -Specimens of gold in quartz have been submitted to assay, which have -proved very rich. Operations in the "dry diggings" have been much -retarded by the absence of rain. Large quantities of sand have been -thrown up, ready to take advantage of the earliest showers to wash it -out. - -A bill to remove the State Capital from San José to Vallejo has passed -the Senate, but has not been acted upon in the House. A project has been -started for a railroad from San José to San Francisco. The receipts into -the city treasury of San Francisco, for the quarter ending Nov. 30, were -$426,076, and the expenditures $638,522. The total debt of the city was -$536,493. No election for U. S. Senator had taken place. The choice will -undoubtedly fall upon Mr. Frémont or T. Butler King. The Whigs seem -confident of success. An expedition was dispatched toward the close of -October to explore the Colorado River from its mouth. They have been -heard from about 30 miles up the stream, to which point they had -ascended without difficulty. They believe the Colorado to be navigable -for steamboats, during the greater portion of the year, as high as the -mouth of the Gila. - - -MEXICO AND SOUTH AMERICA. - -Señor Munguia, the new Bishop of Michoacan, has refused to take the -oaths required by Government, throwing himself upon the rights and -privileges granted to the clergy, upon the first establishment of -Christianity in Mexico.----Great complaints are made of the inefficiency -of the police in the capital. On the 3d of January a band of armed -robbers attacked the promenaders on the _Paseo_, rifling them of -their money and valuables.----Chihuahua was greatly alarmed by the -report that a band of American adventurers and Indians were encamped at -a distance of 25 leagues. The band is said to be well armed, having two -field-pieces. From the description of the leader he is supposed to be -the notorious Captain French.----The affairs of Yucatan are in a -situation almost desperate. The Indians are waging fierce hostilities, -which have prevented the transportation of provisions. The treasury is -exhausted, the army without pay, and almost reduced to starvation.----A -poetical work, by a young Mexican woman, is advertised. It is entitled -the "Awakener of Patriotism," and narrates the history of the late war -with the United States. - -Hostilities have broken out between the central Government of Guatemala -on the one hand, and the allied States of San Salvador and Honduras on -the other. A battle took place on the 21st of January at a village -called San José, when the forces of San Salvador and Honduras were -totally routed, and fled in every direction, closely pursued by the -victors. Such, at least, is the Guatemalan account, which is the only -one that has yet reached us. - -Attention has recently been turned to the gold region of New Grenada, -portions of which have been found to be extremely productive. The -districts richest in gold are said to be extremely unhealthy. - -From Nicaragua we learn that the survey of the route from Lake Nicaragua -to the Pacific is nearly completed. The distance is 12 miles, and the -highest point only 40 feet. The steamer Director is running on the lake. -A complete steam communication will in a few weeks be effected between -the lake and the Atlantic; a canal of 12 miles will unite the lake with -the Pacific. When lines of steamers are established on both sides of the -Isthmus, connecting with this rout across, it is anticipated that the -passage from New York to San Francisco may be made in 24 days. - -Carthagena was visited on the 7th of February by a severe shock of an -earthquake, which lasted nine seconds. Considerable damage was done -throughout the city; some houses were thrown down, and several lives -lost. The city walls and the Cathedral were much injured. Had the shock -been protracted a few seconds longer, the whole city would have been -laid in ruins. On the night of the 8th the public squares and walks were -filled with people who had left their dwellings in dread of a repetition -of the shock. But up to the 15th none had occurred. No city in the -region felt the shock so severely as did Carthagena. - -In Peru, Congress was to meet March 20. The Presidential election has -terminated in favor of Echenique. - -In Bolivia there have been one or two attempts at insurrection. A decree -has been issued, banishing all Buenos Ayreans except those married to -Bolivian women, and all who were known as Federalists. - -From Brazil it is officially announced that liberated slaves, not -Brazilian born, must not be taken to that country. By a law of 1831, -which it is announced will be rigidly enforced, a penalty of 100 -milreas, besides expenses of re-exportation, is imposed upon masters of -vessels for each such person landed. - - -GREAT BRITAIN. - -We have the somewhat unexpected intelligence of the defeat and -resignation of the Whig Ministry at the very opening of the session. -Parliament met on the 4th of February. On the preceding evening, the -customary absurd farce of searching the vaults under the house, as a -precaution against a second gunpowder-plot, was enacted. Nothing was -discovered boding any peril to the wisdom of the nation about to be -assembled. The Royal Speech was of the usual brevity, and of more than -usual tameness. The following were the only paragraphs of the least -interest: - -"I have to lament, however, the difficulties which are still felt by -that important body among my people who are owners and occupiers of -land. But it is my confident hope, that the prosperous condition of -other classes of my subjects will have a favorable effect in diminishing -those difficulties, and promoting the interests of agriculture. - -"The recent assumption of certain ecclesiastical titles, conferred by a -Foreign Power, has excited strong feelings in this country; and large -bodies of my subjects have presented addresses to me, expressing -attachment to the throne, and praying that such assumptions should be -resisted. I have assured them of my resolution to maintain the rights of -my crown, and the independence of the nation, against all encroachment, -from whatever quarter it may proceed. I have, at the same time, -expressed my earnest desire and firm determination, under God's -blessing, to maintain unimpaired the religous liberty which is so justly -prized by the people of this country. It will be for you to consider the -measure which will be laid before you on this subject." - -There was no actual debate on the Address to the Queen. It consisted of -a mere echo and amplification of the Royal Speech; and was still further -amplified and diluted in the speeches of the movers and seconders. The -Opposition were evidently taken by surprise at the moderation with which -the Catholic question was referred to. They had expected something -answering to the famous Durham letter of the Premier. Lord John Russell -took occasion to explain that certain phrases in that letter, which -Catholics had assumed to be insult to their religion, were, in fact, -applied to a portion of his own communion. Lord Camoys, in the Upper, -and Mr. Anstey, in the Lower House, both Catholics, most emphatically -repudiated any idea of the supremacy of the Pope in temporal matters; -and deprecated the establishment of the Catholic sees in England as -ill-advised in the extreme. This would seem to be the general tone of -feeling among the nobility and gentry of England. In Ireland, however, -the action of the Pope meets with warm approbation. - -The campaign was fairly opened on Friday, the 7th, when Lord John -Russell asked leave to bring in the Government bill, "to prevent the -assumption of certain ecclesiastical titles in respect of places in the -United Kingdom." He admitted that no violation of any existing law was -committed by the assumption as it had been made; and though the -introduction of bulls from Rome was illegal, and liable to punishment, -the statute had been so long in disuse, that a prosecution would -undoubtedly fail. The measure which he finally proposed seems almost -ludicrous when looked upon as the sequel to the fierce controversy which -has convulsed the kingdom, and caused the effusion of such torrents of -ink. It contains two provisions. By the first, the provision of the -Catholic Act, which imposes a penalty of £100 upon the assumption by -Roman Catholic prelates of any title of existing sees in the United -Kingdom, is to be extended, so as to include titles belonging to any -city, district, or place in Great Britain. By the second provision, any -act done by or for any prelate under such title, is absolutely null and -void; so that any bequest or endowment made to him under such title -falls to the Crown. Leave to bring in the bill was granted, by an -overwhelming majority, after four nights of debate. Although the bill -falls so far short of what was demanded in one direction, it goes no -less beyond what will be submitted to in another. The Catholic prelates -denounce it as persecution, and declare that they will disobey it, if -passed; and defy the Government to place the religious teachers of a -third of the nation in a posture of conscientious opposition to the law. -All the indications are, that the bill will be carried triumphantly -through Parliament; or if at all modified, will be rendered more -stringent. This will be but the commencement of the difficulty. - -Pending the ecclesiastical question, the Ministers "lost a victory" on -that of Free-trade. On Tuesday, the 11th, Mr. Disraeli, taking advantage -of that paragraph in the Royal Speech which admits the existence of -distress among the owners and occupiers of land, moved a resolution to -the effect that it was the duty of Ministers to take effectual measures -for the relief of this distress. This was, in effect, a covert and -dexterous attack upon the principle of free-trade in corn, and as such -was met by the Ministers. The leading speech, in reply, was made by Sir -James Graham, endorsed by Lord John Russell. He declared that the -abolition of protection upon corn had been of incalculable benefit to -the people at large, and that any attempt to raise again the price of -bread-stuffs by artificial protection must be a failure. The Corn-law -Rhymer could not have taken higher ground than did the Minister. He -declared, that in consequence of the removal of duty, millions of -quarters of grain had been introduced, and had been consumed by those -who otherwise would never have tasted of wheaten bread. There was not a -plowman, nor a weaver, nor a shepherd, whose condition was not made more -tolerable by the repeal of the Corn-law, and they knew it. The condition -of the mass of the people was the true test of national prosperity. The -resolution of Mr. Disraeli was made a test-question by Government, and -was lost by 267 to 281, showing a ministerial majority of only 14. If -this were to be accepted as a true indication of the state of parties in -Parliament on the vital question of Protection, the Ministers could not -carry on government, and must either resign or dissolve Parliament, and -trust to the chances of a new election. But it is said that many members -voted for Mr. Disraeli's resolution out of pique at the action of the -Ministers upon the ecclesiastical question, and that the true strength -of the Free-trade and Protection parties is yet to be tested. At all -events, the Whigs are irretrievably committed against any attempt to -enhance the price of bread by any artificial protection. - -On Monday, the 17th, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Charles Wood, -presented the Budget. The main difficulty here was to decide what to do -with the surplus revenue. It is so long a time since any European -government has had a question of this nature to deal with, that it is -not to be wondered at that it caused embarrassment. Official ingenuity -has been well-trained to devise ways and means to supply deficiencies in -revenue, by inventing new taxes, or by borrowing; but it has had no -experience in dealing with an actual surplus. Where every interest is -burdened to the utmost, each feels itself to be the most oppressed, and -demands to be first relieved. There were claims to ten times the amount -to be taken off. The Chancellor kept his project a profound secret from -all men; no deputation could worm out of him whether he favored their -own special views; when the proper time came, they should see what they -should see. They did all see; and not a soul was satisfied. The surplus -was estimated to be about £1,900,000; one million was to be devoted to -the payment of the National Debt--a rate which, if kept up, would -extinguish the whole debt in somewhat less than four thousand years; the -remainder was proposed to be so apportioned that no interest -will find itself specially benefited. For instance, the window-tax was -to be nominally abolished; but a large proportion of it was to be -re-imposed in the shape of a duty upon houses;--and all these proposed -reductions were based upon the condition that the income-tax, which has -some features making it particularly odious, involving as it does an -almost inquisitorial prying into private affairs, should be continued -for another three years. The debate upon the Budget was fixed for -Friday, the 21st. - -In the mean time, however, it became apparent that the Budget could not -be carried. A circumstance unimportant in itself sufficiently evinced -this. Mr. King moved for leave to bring in a bill giving the right of -voting in the counties, as well as in the boroughs, to all occupiers of -tenements of the value of £10. Though this was nowise a test question, -Lord John Russell opposed it, and when the vote was taken only 52 votes -were found for the Ministers, while for the motion there were 100. The -apathy of their own party showed the Ministers that they could not -sustain themselves. Lord John Russell moved that the debate on the -Budget should be adjourned to Monday, the 24th. In the mean while, on -Saturday the 22d, the Ministry tendered their resignations. - -The defeat on the Franchise was only "the last feather that broke the -camel's back." The Ministry fell, at the first attack, from inherent -weakness. For a week the Government literally went a-begging, no -statesman daring to undertake the task of conducting it. The Queen, as -the most natural recourse, applied in the first place, to Lord Stanley, -the recognized leader of the Opposition, and head of the Protectionist -party. But he declined to attempt the formation of a Ministry. She then -fell back upon Lord John Russell, who endeavored in vain to reconstruct -a Cabinet which should secure a Parliamentary majority. An unsuccessful -application was then made to Lord Aberdeen. Lord Stanley was again -applied to, who made an attempt to form a Conservative Ministry, leaving -the subject of Protection in abeyance; but he failed to gain the -acquiescence of the leading men of his party upon other grounds, and -abandoned the task. Thus matters remained up to March 1st, the date of -our latest intelligence. It is worthy of remark, how completely the -existence of the House of Peers has been ignored throughout the whole of -these proceedings; the only point aimed at having been to secure a -majority in the Commons. - -A cool attempt to swindle the treasury out of £20,000 has been made in -behalf of the estate of the late Queen Dowager. Her comfortable annuity -of £100,000 was made payable at regular quarter-days, commencing after -the death of William IV. As it happened, he died ten days before the -quarter-day, so that the queen received pay for a whole quarter for -those ten days. She died 63 days after the last quarterly payment; and a -claim was made for payment for that time; although blending the two -periods together she would have received a quarter's payment for 19 days -less than a quarter's time. The court, however, refused to grant the -privilege of burning the candle at both ends; and the beggarly German -heirs of the late queen fail in gaining the sum. - -Petitions have been presented to Parliament from the bishop, -commissioners of parishes, and householders of Capetown, stating that -the Legislative Assembly of the colony has lost the confidence of the -colonists, and presenting the details of a constitution which they pray -may be granted them. - -Certain Protestants of Dublin addressed a letter to the Duke of -Wellington urging him to fulfill a pledge which they infer him to have -made many years ago, when he was Premier, to move the repeal of the -Catholic Relief Bill, if it should, on trial, be found not to work -satisfactorily. The Duke replies in one of the curtest letters in all -his curt correspondence; and in terms which the liveliest imagination -can not interpret as complimentary, refuses to have any thing to do with -them or their request. - -The Commissioners of the Exhibition have decided upon the following -rates for admission: Season tickets for a gentleman will cost three -guineas, for a lady, two guineas. These tickets are not transferrable, -and will admit the owner at all times to the Exhibition. On the day of -opening those only are to be admitted who have season tickets. On the -two subsequent days, the price of admittance will be twenty shillings. -On the fourth day, it will be reduced to five shillings, at which sum it -will continue till the 22d day, when it will be lowered to one shilling. -After that period, the rate will be one shilling, except on Fridays, -when it will be two shillings and sixpence, and Saturdays, when it will -be five shillings. The severest tests have demonstrated the stability of -the building. - -The proposed abolition of the Vice-royalty in Ireland, excites great -opposition, especially in Dublin. A large meeting has been held, at -which the Lord Mayor presided, for the purpose of petitioning against -the intended abolition, and protesting against the system of -centralization which, it is alleged, has been so destructive of the best -interests of Ireland. - - -FRANCE. - -The main features of interest are confined to the quarrel between the -President and the Assembly. Bonaparte is gaining ground. The Minister of -Finance presented the bill asking for a dotation for the President. The -question was an embarrassing one for the Assembly. If they granted it, -it would be giving additional power to him. If they refused, he would -become an object of sympathy, and still gain power. The amount asked was -1,800,000 francs, in addition to his salary of 600,000. M. de -Montalembert was the principal speaker in favor of the bill. He declared -that the President had fulfilled his mission in restoring society and -reestablishing order, and warned the majority not to persist in their -course of hostility, or they would repent it in 1852. Upon taking the -question, there were 294 for the bill, and 396 against it; so that it -was lost by a majority of 102. In anticipation of this rejection, -subscriptions were set on foot throughout the country in aid of the -President; but Bonaparte, by an official notice in the _Moniteur_ -declined to receive any such contributions, choosing, as he said, to -make any personal sacrifices rather than endanger the peace of the -country. He made immediate preparation to live according to his means: -stopped his expensive receptions, and announced a sale of his horses. He -is playing a subtle and well-considered game for re-election to the -Presidency; and if the constitutional prohibition can be repealed or -overridden, there seems little question that he will succeed. His -popularity among the middle classes is great and increasing. When the -question of the revision of the Constitution comes up, the great contest -of parties will begin, which will decide the fate of the Republic. It is -almost impossible that the incongruous combination which now constitutes -the formidable majority against him can hold together, against his cool -and cautious policy, and with so many elements of disunion among -themselves. - - -GERMANY. - -The doings of the Dresden Conference have not officially transpired. But -enough is known to make it evident that our previous accounts are -correct. In addition it is now said, and with probable truth, that -Austria and Prussia have determined to share the executive power of the -Diet between them, to the absolute exclusion of the minor Powers. -Austria brings into the Confederacy the whole of her Sclavic and Italian -possessions. This will call forth the vehement remonstrances of the -other European states, who look upon it as undoing the work of the Holy -Alliance, and disturbing the balance of power. In consideration of -granting this real advantage to Austria, Prussia gains the empty honor -of sharing the Presidency in the Diet, which was formerly held by -Austria exclusively. The pacification of Schleswig-Holstein and Hesse is -complete. In the latter the malcontents are undergoing the penalties of -Bavarian courts-martials. Hamburg is occupied by Austrian troops. Well -authenticated accounts of a conspiracy at Vienna have been received, but -the particulars are not given. The 150th anniversary of the erection of -Prussia into a kingdom was celebrated at Berlin on the 17th of January, -with great pomp. - - -ITALY. - -There can be little doubt that an insurrection, of which Mazzini is the -soul and centre is in course of organization. Funds to a considerable -amount have been provided. The overthrow of the democratic cause -throughout Europe has disbanded an immense number of soldiers, who will -be ready for any enterprise, and will be especially glad to fight for -the old cause, against the old enemy, upon Italian ground. Various parts -of the country are terribly infested with brigands, whose enterprises -are carried on with an audacity which reminds one of the middle ages. -There are reports of an approaching Austrian interference in Piedmont -and Switzerland. The Pope is said to be desirous of the withdrawal of -the French troops from Rome, that he may place himself under the more -immediate protection of Austria and Naples. The Austrian army in Italy -has been considerably reinforced, to provide against the action of -Mazzini and the growing discontent in Lombardy. Archbishop Hughes of -this city is preaching at Rome to increasing audiences. He predicts, -there as well as here, the speedy downfall of Protestantism, and -prophesies that ere long it will have disappeared from the world as -completely as the heretical sects of the Arians and the Manichæans. -There is apparently no doubt that the Archbishop will be raised to the -rank of Cardinal. At the sitting of the Piedmontese Chamber of Deputies, -in Turin, the Minister of Foreign Affairs delivered a speech on occasion -of presenting the Budget, marked by a liberality for which we are not -accustomed to look to statesmen of Italy. - - -THE EAST. - -In INDIA, on the whole, tolerable tranquillity was prevalent. -Sir Charles Napier, in taking leave of the army of India, of which he -was commander-in-chief, addressed a most ultra-Naperian epistle to the -officers. Instead of reminding them of the laurels they have won, and -the territories they have overrun, he berates them for their habits of -lavish expenditure, and for contracting debts which they have no means -or expectation of paying. An interview has been held between Gholab -Singh, the ruler of Cashmere, and the Governor-general, in which the -usual protestations of eternal friendship were interchanged. These -interviews, since the days of Hastings and Clive, have betokened fresh -accessions to the territories of the Company. - -An insurrection of a formidable character which had been raging in some -of the provinces of CHINA, the object of which was the overthrow of the -Tartar dynasty, was, at the latest dates, entirely suppressed. The -famous Commissioner Lin, whose energetic proceedings gave rise to the -opium war, is dead. From the un-oriental energy of his character, and -the salutary dread with which he had inspired his countryman, his death -is a loss to the Empire. - -Difficulties are apprehended in EGYPT. The Porte demands certain reforms -of the Viceroy; among which are the abatement of taxes and the reduction -of the army. The Viceroy refuses to comply, and is determined to offer -forcible resistance, in case of an attempt to enforce the demands. - -The hostilities at Bagdad between the Turks and Arabs have been renewed -since the death of Bem. Vigorous measures, are to be taken to reduce the -insurgent Arabs to subjection. - -From Southern AFRICA, under date of Sept. 6, we have authentic -intelligence of terrible atrocities committed by the Namquas upon the -Danish missionary station. Numbers were killed; and women and children -cruelly tortured. - - - - -LITERATURE, SCIENCE, ART, PERSONAL MOVEMENTS, ETC. - - -UNITED STATES. - -It is seed-time rather than harvest in the world of Literature and Art, -as well as in that of matter. Publishers are in deep consultation over -projected works. The still labor of brain, eye, and hand goes on in the -library of the author and the studio of the artist, the results of -which, when ready for the public eye, we shall chronicle. The series of -lectures before the Artists' Association has been brought to a very -appropriate close by a lecture from HUNTINGTON, the painter. His subject -was "Christian Art." He claimed, in theory, for his Art that lofty and -sublime mission which he has attempted to exemplify in practice.----The -most attractive series of lectures delivered in this city during the -last season has undoubtedly been that of Mr. LORD, on the "Heroes and -Martyrs of Protestantism." Those who might feel inclined to dissent from -several of his views and conclusions, could not be other than pleased by -the earnestness and zeal with which they were set forth and advocated. -As literary productions, these lectures are deserving of high -praise.----BANVARD'S three-mile Panorama of the Mississippi has been the -fruitful parent of a multitude of staring and impudent productions, -which it were almost a libel upon Art to call pictures. The "cheap side" -of Broadway is lined with these monstrosities, which for the most part -have met with the very moderate patronage which they deserve. - -MARTIN FARQUUHART TUPPER, has arrived in this country. We copy -from the _Evening Post_ the following graceful lines, written in -the harbor on the morning of his arrival: - - Not with cold scorn or ill-dissembled sneer, - Ungraciously your kindly looks to greet, - By God's good favor safely landed here. - Oh friends and brothers, face to face we meet. - Now for a little space my willing feet, - After long hope and promise many a year, - Shall tread your happy shores; my heart and voice - Your kindred love shall quicken and shall cheer, - While in your greatness shall my soul rejoice-- - For you are England's nearest and most dear! - Suffer my simple fervors to do good, - As one poor pilgrim haply may and can, - Who, knit to heaven and earth by gratitude, - Speaks from his heart, to touch his fellow man. - -WASHINGTON'S BIRTH-DAY was celebrated with unusual splendor in this -city. An oration was delivered by Hon. H. M. FOOTE, of Mississippi. At -the public dinner letters were read from President FILLMORE, and Messrs. -WEBSTER, CLAY, and CASS. The principal speech of the evening was made by -Hon. EDWARD EVERETT, in reply to the toast of "the Constitution." - -WASHINGTON IRVING has written a pleasant and characteristic -letter, which has been going the rounds of the papers, to Jesse Merwin, -of Kinderhook, the original Ichabod Crane, of the far-renowned "Legend -of Sleepy Hollow." - - -EUROPEAN. - -Among the recent issues of the London press we notice "_The Mirror for -Maidens_," by Mrs. Sherwood and her daughter, Mrs. Streeten. The -well-won reputation of the mother, acquired so many years ago, will not -be enhanced by her share in this tale.--A volume of _Poems_, by W. -C. Bennett, is made up of pieces of very unequal merit. Some portions -are extremely beautiful, while others are utterly devoid of expression -or character. The readers of Mrs. Marsh's tales will remember many -mottoes taken from Mr. Bennett, giving promise of no common degree of -poetic talent.--Sheridan Knowles, the dramatist, has taken the field as -a religious controversialist in a volume upon Transubstantiation, in -reply to the lectures of Cardinal Wiseman. He shows more familiarity -with the principles and details of the controversy than could have been -anticipated from his former avocations.--_England as it Is_, by Wm. -Johnston, is an attempt to point out the political, social, and -industrial state of the kingdom in the middle of the nineteenth century. -The author is of the opinion that, on the whole, the mechanical -inventions and money-making spirit of the last fifty years have lessened -the comforts and deteriorated the character of the poorer classes. The -book does not seem to be written with sufficient ability to make any -decided impression. - -_Revelations of Hungary_, by the Baron Prochazka, presents the Austrian -view of the question with more zeal than ability. The author details -with the utmost complacency the fearful atrocities of the campaign, -wondering all the while that the Austrians were hated by the oppressed -population. Appended to the Revelations is a "Memoir of Kossuth," -designed to instruct the world as to the true character of the -illustrious Magyar. Every good quality which has been attributed to him, -from genius down to personal beauty, is vehemently disputed. The world -is assured that "Kossuth is by no means the handsome man his partisans -represent him to be; he is of middle stature; his figure is -insignificant; his hair was brown, but being bald, he wears a wig of -that color." This last allegation, we fear is too true; for Kossuth lost -not only his hair, but his health and every thing but life, hope, and -honor during his imprisonment in Austrian dungeons. - -_The Correspondence of Sir Isaac Newton and Professor Cotes_, edited by -J. Eddleston, M.A., presents a view of all the ascertained facts in the -personal and intellectual history of the great mathematician. When he -was engaged in elaborating his theory respecting light and color, in -order "to quicken his faculties, and fix his attention, he confined -himself to a small quantity of bread during all the time, with a little -sack and water, of which, without any regulation, he took as he found a -craving or failure of spirits." - -A continuation of the _Dix Ans_ of Louis Blanc has been commenced by M. -Elias Regnault, under the title of _L'Histoire de Huit Ans_, 1840-48. - -The London _Leader_ speaks of a new work by Harriet Martineau and -Mr. Atkinson which is likely to excite attention. It is entitled -"Letters on Man's Nature and Development." The _Leader_ having read -a few of the proof sheets, says that for boldness of outspeaking on -subjects usually glozed over, and for power of philosophic exposition, -it has few equals. The marvels of mesmerism and clairvoyance are stated -with unflinching plainness, as facts admitting of no dispute. -Materialism is unequivocally and even eloquently avowed; and phrenology -assumes quite a new aspect from the observations and discoveries here -recorded. - -The London _Critic_ contains an interesting paraagraph giving an account -of the payments made to authors in France. It is said that Lamartine, -for the single volume of his _Confidences_, received 8000 dollars. -Chauteaubriand, a few years before his death, contracted with a company -to sell them, at the price of 4000 dollars per volume, any new works he -might write and desire to print. Victor Hugo, by contract with the -publishers, is paid 3000 dollars for each new volume with which he may -furnish them. De Balzac, in 1837, entered into a contract with his -publisher, Delloye, by which the publisher acquired the property for -fifteen years of the works of De Balzac at that time published. The -pecuniary consideration paid to the author, was 12,000 dollars cash, and -an annuity of 3000 dollars. Eugene Sue sold for 9600 dollars the right -of publishing and selling, during five years only, his novel called -_Martin the Foundling, or the Memoirs of a Valet de Chambre_. The work -was already in course of publication in the _feuilleton_ of _The -Constitutionnel_, and the purchaser's rights were confined to France. It -was the _Mystères de Paris_ that made the great literary name and -fortune of Eugene Sue. Previously the remuneration of his literary -labors was much more modest. _La Salamandre_ was disposed of at 300 -dollars per volume. _The Wandering Jew_, and _Les Mystères de Paris_, -were sold at 20,000 dollars the volume: and the purchaser made 12,000 by -the operation. In August, 1845, _The Constitutionnel_, wishing to secure -M. Sue exclusively to itself, made with him a contract which was to last -for thirteen years and a half. By its terms the author bound himself to -furnish for publication in the _feuilleton_ of _The Constitutionnel_ not -less than four, nor more than six volumes of novels per annum, for which -he was to be paid 2000 dollars per volume on delivery of the manuscript. - -LAMARTINE seems determined to surpass the literary fecundity of James, -or even, if such a thing be conceivable, that of the renowned Alexandre -Dumas. In addition to his History of the Directory, mentioned in our -last number, it is announced that he has contracted to write a History -of the Restoration, in some eight or ten volumes. The _Leader_, which is -good authority on these matters, however, states that this last is -substituted for the History of the Directory, which Lamartine abandoned -in disgust when he found that Garner de Cassagnac had undertaken the -same subject for feuilleton publication. A romance, after the manner of -Genevieve, is advertised to appear in the feuilleton of _La Presse_. He -has long been under engagements to furnish, under the title of the -_Conseiller du Peuple_, a monthly pamphlet on current political events; -and he is said to have engaged to write another similar one every -fortnight. Finally, he has in contemplation a History of Turkey. He is, -moreover, an active member of the Legislative Assembly, and a frequent -speaker. During one of the late ministerial crises he came very near -being placed at the head of the Ministry. With such a number of -engagements, undertaken under the pressure of pecuniary necessities, it -is not to be wondered that his recent productions have been unworthy of -his former reputation. - -Dr. J. F. SCHRÖDER has produced a unique work on Talmudic and Rabbinic -maxims and usages. As a specimen of these, we give some of the -refinements and distinctions relating to the observance of the Sabbath: -"Hunting is totally forbidden on the Sabbath, and since fly-catching is -a species of hunting, it is prohibited--nay, the prohibition extends so -far, that a Jew must not cover vessels in which there are flies, because -in this way a sort of catching might take place. Fleas must first have -bitten before they may be caught; and it is not allowable to kill them -when caught. A louse found on the body may be killed, but not one that -has taken up its abode in the outer parts of the garments. Animals, on -the contrary, which are tame and willingly allow themselves to be taken, -may be caught even on the Sabbath; some, however, consider this not -allowable. An egg laid on the Sabbath, or fruits which have been plucked -on that day, may not be used.... If any body wishes to borrow any thing -of another on the Sabbath, he must not say, '_Lend me this or that_;' -but '_Give it me, and I will give it you back_.' If a pledge is to be -restored, the lender must lay it down in silence. He who wishes to have -some beer or wine on a Sabbath, must not say to the tavern-keeper, -'_Give me so much wine or beer for so much money_;' but '_Give me the -vessel full or half full_.' After the Sabbath the vessel may be -measured, and the value of the wine or beer received may be determined. -Letters must not be either written or opened on the Sabbath; but if any -one not a Jew has opened them, without having received orders to do so, -and one is anxious to know the contents, they may be read; but the words -must not be uttered aloud. News also may be read in this way. Accounts, -on the contrary, bills of exchange, and such things, relating to trade, -may not be read. If a leg, &c., falls out of a chair or bench on the -Sabbath, the injury must not be repaired on that day. Should a wine-cask -or any thing of that sort begin to leak, a vessel may be put under it, -but the hole must not be stopped up." - -CHARLES KNIGHT, the eminent publisher, in an effective pamphlet -advocating the repeal of the paper-tax, presents some facts showing the -bearing of that tax upon the diffusion of knowledge. He has had in -contemplation a Supplement to the National Cyclopædia, to consist of a -series of treatises upon Scientific, Social, and Industrial Progress, to -extend to four volumes. To produce this as it should be done, he must -secure the assistance of the most eminent men in every department of -knowledge; which assistance will cost £2000. To cover the outlay he must -sell at least 25,000 copies; which will consume 6400 reams of paper, the -duty upon which would be £880. This additional expense, adding nothing -to the value of the work, makes him hesitate to embark in the -enterprise, If this burden were removed he might either save it in the -original cost, or expend it in adding to the value of the work. In -either case he would not hesitate to carry out his design. - -ROBERT CHAMBERS shows the bearing of the same tax upon labor. His -Miscellany of Tracts was stopped as not paying, although it had a -regular sale of 80 000. While published it had paid a paper-tax of -£6220. This publication, which might have been continued had it not been -for this tax, distributed £18,000 a year in labor. He had since started -a similar series at three halfpence, of which, owing to the increase in -price, only half as many were sold as the other. It is calculated that -this tax keeps out of employment, in London alone, full 40,000 people. -The whole value of the paper annually manufactured in the kingdom is -estimated at £4,000,000, upon which a duty is laid of £800,000. This is -levied almost entirely upon labor, the mateterial used being almost -entirely without value. - -LEOPOLD RANKE, author of the History of the Popes, in the course of his -researches in the National Library at Paris, has discovered a manuscript -portion of the Memoirs of the famous statesman Cardinal Richelieu, which -has long been supposed to be lost. In the manuscript deposited at the -French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, a series of leaves is wanting. These -Mr. Ranke found by accident in a bundle of old papers. It is thought -that this discovery may throw some light upon the disputed question -whether the cardinal was the actual author of the works which are -attributed to him, or merely revised and corrected them. - -The _Quarterly Review_ tells a story about George IV. which reflects -little credit upon the "First Gentleman of Europe." The noble library of -George III., in the British Museum bears an inscription purporting that -it was a gift to the nation from his successor. It appears, however, -that the library was a purchase. George IV., in one of his frequent -pecuniary straits, had negotiated for its sale to the Emperor of Russia, -and was only prevented from completing the contract by the most urgent -remonstrances, backed by the receipt of the value of the Russian rubles, -in sterling coin, from the droits of the Admiralty. It is suggested that -the inscription in the Museum should be erased; as there can be no good -reason why the nation should be called upon to supply by a public -forgery the deficiency of worthy records left behind by that monarch. - -According to the _Journal de la Librairie_ the whole number of -books and pamphlets printed in France during the past year is 7208, of -which 5848 are new publications. The publications in the French language -were 6661; in the dialects spoken in France, 68; in German, 53; in -English, 61; in Spanish, 51; in Greek, 83; in Latin, 165; in Portuguese, -16; in Polish, 14; in Hebrew, 9. - -A _Grammar of the Kaffir Language_, by Rev. JOHN W. APPLEYARD, a -Wesleyan Missionary in British Kaffraria, is another valuable -contribution to science resulting from missionary labors. This language, -although, of course, destitute of literary treasures, presents some -features of interest to students of comparative philology. Those -relations of words to each other which in other languages are indicated -by change of termination, are in this denoted by prefixes, which are -regulated by similarity of sound. Neither gender nor number has any -influence upon grammatical construction, being lost sight of in the -euphonic form of the word or prefix. The noun is the leading word in a -sentence, the prefix to it determining that to the other words. Thus, -_abantu_ means "the people," and _ziyeza_, "are coming;" but a Kaffir -would not express "the people are coming" by _abantu ziyeza_, but by -_abantu bayeza_, it being necessary that the prefixes to the verb and -its subject should have a similar sound. The language is also remarkable -for freedom from anomalous usages and exceptions, and for great facility -of forming compound words. Mr. Appleyard's work contains also valuable -ethnographical materials in the shape of a general classification of -the South African dialects. - -An Italian savant announces that when the fog is so thick as to prevent -signals being seen from one station to another, the difficulty may be -greatly diminished by placing a colored glass between the eye and the -eye-piece of the telescope. The best color for those who have strong -eyesight is dark red; while those who are short-sighted find light red -preferable. He accounts for the fact by stating that the white color of -the fog strikes too powerfully upon the eye, particularly if the glass -have a large field; and the intensity of the light is diminished by the -interception of a part of the rays by the colored glass, so that the eye -is less wearied. - -_The Velocity of Artificial Light_ has been the subject of some very -ingenious experiments by M. Fizean. A point of intense brightness, -produced by oxy-hydrogen light, is concentrated by a lens, and being -received upon a mirror placed at about two leagues distance, is -reflected back again in the same line. This is effected so exactly that -scarcely any deviation in the course of the two rays can be perceived, -the going and returning ray appearing one within the other. Behind the -point of light is placed a wheel having 720 teeth, so adjusted that the -light shines between two of the teeth, so that when the wheel is at -rest, an eye placed behind it receives the impression of the full ray. -When the wheel is moved so that 12·6 revolutions are made in a second, -the teeth of the wheel appear continuous, and half the light is -obstructed. If the velocity be sufficiently accelerated all the light is -cut off, and that rate shows the time necessary for the light to have -traversed the two leagues and back again, for the observer sees only the -returning ray. The velocity of artificial light has thus been fixed at -70,000 French leagues in a second, which agrees remarkably with that -given by astronomers to solar light, 192,500 miles in a second. The -English mile, it will be recollected is a trifle longer than the French -mile. - -A paper read before the British Association, describes several -remarkable hail storms which have occurred in India. The weight of some -masses of ice which have fallen exceeds 14 pounds. Many of these masses, -under a rough external coat, contained an interior of clear ice. Immense -conglomerated masses of hail stones had been known to be swept down the -mountain ravines by the torrents which succeeded the storms; and in one -of these conglomerations a snake was found frozen up, and apparently -dead; but it revived on being thawed out. - -A patent has been taken out for what the patentee calls the _essence of -milk_. Fresh milk is placed in a long, shallow copper pan, heated by -steam to a temperature of 110 degrees. A quantity of sugar is mixed with -the milk, which is continually kept in motion by stirring. This is -continued for about four hours, during which the milk is reduced by -evaporation to one-fourth of its original bulk. It is then put into -small tin cans, the tops of which are soldered on. These cans are placed -for a while in boiling water, which completes the process. This -preparation may be kept for a long time, in any climate. It is -peculiarly adapted for use on shipboard. - - -OBITUARIES. - -The MARQUIS OF NORTHAMPTON (Spencer Joshua Alwyne Compton) died Jan. 16, -aged 60 years. He early manifested a love for literature, science, and -art, which he cultivated with greater assiduity than is usual among -students of his social rank. Among his associates at the university were -many whose names have since become known in the world of mind. In 1830 -he became a member of the Royal Society. In 1838, when the presidency of -that body was resigned by the Duke of Sussex, on the ground that the -£13,000 a year, which was granted him as a prince of the blood, was an -income too limited to enable him to afford the coffee and sandwiches -usually furnished at the _soirées_ of the Society, the Marquis of -Northampton was selected to fill that place. If the selection was to be -on the grounds of rank rather than of high scientific attainments, no -better one could have been made. The _soirées_ which he gave drew -together the rank and science of the country, and had a happy influence -upon the scientific world. His attainments in almost every graceful -branch of intellectual culture were highly respectable. He resigned the -presidency of the Royal Society in 1848, and was succeeded by the Earl -of Rosse. He took no very decided part in politics, although he was -always recognized as belonging to the liberal portion of the House of -Peers. Among the large number of the higher classes who have recently -died, no one, since the death of Sir Robert Peel, is so great a loss to -literature and science as the Marquis of Northampton. - -JOHN PYE SMITH, D.D., one of the most learned and eminent of the -dissenting clergy of England died Feb. 5, aged 77 years. He was the -author of a number of works of decided merit; the one by which he was -best known was Scripture and Geology. His attainments in geological -science procured his election as a member of the Royal Society. Early in -January a company of his friends and admirers presented him with a -testimonial of their affectionate regard, in commemoration of the -fiftieth year of his academic labors in the Dissenting College at -Homerton. The sum of £2600 was raised, the interest of which was to be -applied to his benefit during his lifetime, and the principal, after his -death, to be applied to the foundation of scholarships. This testimonial -to his eminent merit was only in time for an honor, but too late as a -pecuniary benefit. - -CHARLES COQUEREL, whose recent death is announced in the Paris papers, -was the brother of the celebrated Protestant clergyman of France. He was -the author of a number of works, among which we remember a History of -English Literature; Caritas, an Essay on a complete Spiritual -Philosophy; and the History of the Churches in the Desert, or the -History of the Protestant Churches of France from the Revocation of the -Edict of Nantes to the Reign of Louis XVI. In this last work he -introduced the substance of a vast mass of private and official -correspondence relative to the persecutions undergone by the French -Protestants. He was also distinguished for his scientific attainments, -and for many years reported the proceedings of the French Academy of -Sciences for the _Courrier Francaise_. He was especially interested in -Arago's investigations upon light, and was busied with them almost to -the day of his death. - -GASPAR SPONTINI, composer of _La Vestale_, and many other less -successful operas, died recently in the Roman States, at an advanced -age. For many years he was chapel-master to the late King of Prussia, -where both himself and his music were unpopular to the last degree among -artists; and it was an article in the contract of more than one _prima -donna_, that she should not be required to sing Spontini's music. The -one great work of his life was _La Vestale_, produced in 1809. It was -in rehearsal for a twelvemonth, and while in preparation was retouched -and amended to such an extent, that the expense of copying the -alterations is said to have amounted to 10,000 francs. - -MRS. SHELLEY, wife of the poet, and daughter of Godwin and the -celebrated Mary Wolstoncroft, died in London on the 11th of February, -aged 53 years. She was herself an authoress of no inconsiderable repute. -Her wild and singular novels, among which are the Last Man, Walpurga, -and Frankenstein, are unequaled in their kind. The last in particular, -notwithstanding the revolting nature of the legend, is wrought up with -great power, and possesses singular fascination for the lovers of the -marvelous and the supernatural. - -JOANNA BAILLIE, the most illustrious of the female poets of England, -unless that place be assigned to Elizabeth Barrett Browning, -notwithstanding her many affectations and great inequalities, died at -Hampstead, on the 23d of February, at the age of 90 years, within a few -weeks. She is best known by her "Plays on the Passions," in which she -made a bold and successful attempt to delineate the stronger passions of -the mind by making each of them the subject of a tragedy and a comedy. -The first volume was published in 1798, and was followed by a second and -a third in 1802 and 1812, and in 1836 by three additional volumes. In -addition to these she published at different times miscellaneous poetry, -which was in 1841 collected into a volume. Her career as an author thus -extends over almost half a century. A complete edition of her works in -one large volume has been issued within a few weeks. To Miss Baillie and -Wordsworth, more than to any others is to be attributed the redemption -of our poetry from that florid or insipid sentimentalism which was its -prevailing characteristic at the beginning of the present century. They -boldly asserted, by precept and practice, the superiority of nature over -all affectation and conventionalism. "Let one simple trait of the human -heart," says she in the Introduction to her first volume, "one -expression of passion genuine to truth and nature, be introduced, and it -will stand forth alone in the boldness of reality, while the false and -unnatural around it fades away upon every side, like the rising -exhalations of the morning." Her dramas are wrought wholly out from her -own conceptions, and exhibit great originality and invention. Her power -of portraying the darker and sterner passions of the human heart has -rarely been surpassed. Scott eulogized "Basil's love and Montfort's -hate" as a revival of something of the old Shaksperean strain in our -later and more prosaic days. But her dramas have little in common with -those of Shakspeare, so full of life, action, and vivacity. Their spirit -is more akin to the stern and solemn repose of the Greek dramas. They -have little of the form and pressure of real life. The catastrophe -springs rather from the characters themselves than from the action of -the drama. The end is seen from the beginning. Over all broods a fate as -gloomy as that which overhung the doomed House of Atreus. Her female -characters are delineated with great elevation and purity. Jane de -Montfort--with her stately form which seems gigantic, till nearer -approach shows that it scarcely exceeds middle stature; her queenly -bearing, and calm, solemn smile; her "weeds of high habitual state"--is -one of the noblest conceptions of poetry. Miss Baillie was a conspicuous -instance of high poetic powers existing in a mind capable of fulfilling -the ordinary duties of life. Among her friends were numbered most of -those whose genius has adorned their day. Her modest residence at -Hampstead was sought by visitors from all parts of Europe, and -especially from America, attracted by admiration of her genius, and love -for her virtues. In her has set one of the last and brightest stars of -that splendid constellation of genius, which arose during the early part -of the present century. - - - - -LITERARY NOTICES. - - -Lippincott, Grambo & Co. have issued the third edition of _California -and Oregon, or, Sights in the Gold Region_, by THEODORE T. JOHNSON, a -work which has deservedly met with a favorable reception from the -public, and which can not fail to be highly appreciated by the emigrant -to the shores of the Pacific. The author describes the incidents of his -voyage to Chagres, the journey across the Isthmus, his stay at Panama, -and his observations in the Gold Regions, in a spirited and graphic -style, which renders his volume no less amusing than instructive. The -chapters devoted to Oregon are full of valuable information, and form -not the least interesting portions of the work. In the opinion of the -author, Oregon is destined to be the permanent seat of American Empire -on the Pacific coast. The tide of emigration to California is now -setting in with gradual but increasing force toward Oregon, and of the -thousands among the population of that territory who have visited the -placers of the Sacramento, none have become settlers, but all have -returned to resume their abode in Oregon. The statements embodied in -this volume concerning the climate, soil, physical resources, and social -condition of Oregon, by Hon. Mr. Thurston, the able Representative to -Congress from that Territory, are distinguished for their good sense and -practical character, and have already made a strong impression on the -public mind. They should be taken into consideration by every one who -proposes to establish his residence in the Farthest West. - -_Mount Hope, or, Philip, King of the Wampanoags_, by G. H. HOLLISTER -(published by Harper and Brothers) is a new historical romance, founded -on the scenes of Indian warfare which occurred in the first century -after the settlement of New England. The fruitful legends of that -period, which present such rich materials to the novelist, are -interwoven with the historical incidents of the day, in a tale of more -than common vigor and beauty. The development of the plot is accompanied -with numerous portraitures of real characters, some of which betray no -mean powers of description, and predict the future distinction of the -writer in this line of composition. Among the historical personages who -figure in the story, are Whalley and Goffe, the regicide judges, who -found an asylum for many years in Massachusetts, and who have left so -many traditions of mysterious interest concerning their fate. A scene -from the death-bed of the former presents a favorable specimen of the -author's ability: - -"On a beautiful peninsula, formed by the most graceful curve which the -Connecticut (the loveliest of all the rivers that gleam among the hills -of the north) makes in its long, winding journey to the ocean, stood the -rural village of Hadley. It was situated upon the very point of the -peninsula, with one main street running north and south, and abutting at -either extremity upon the river. The settlement was then new, and had in -it few houses; but most of them indicated, from their size and neatness, -as well as from the degree of culture that surrounded them, the industry -and comparative opulence of the inhabitants. - -"On the eastern side of the street, and about midway between the arms of -the river, stood the large, well-built mansion of Mr. Russell, the -parish clergyman, almost hidden behind the branches of two magnificent -elms of primitive growth. In the rear of the house was a lawn covered -with apple-trees. - -"It was about ten o'clock in the evening of the day mentioned in the -preceding chapter, when a gentleman, closely enveloped in a long cloak -that perfectly concealed his person, emerged from the tall forest-trees -that skirted the river, and entered the orchard. At first, his step was -rapid and bold, but as he neared the house, he walked with more caution; -and on arriving at the garden-gate he paused, with his hand upon the -latch, and looked cautiously around him. Having apparently satisfied -himself that he was unnoticed, he passed noiselessly through the garden, -and stepped over the little low stile that separated it from the house, -stopped suddenly, and stamped his foot upon the ground. The earth -beneath him returned a hollow sound, and the traveler, kneeling upon his -right knee, commenced removing the rubbish that had been thrown so -artfully over the spot as to elude the vigilance of any eye not -acquainted with the premises. After he had cleared a space of about two -feet in diameter, the clear moonlight disclosed the entire surface of a -small trap-door, fastened by a strong padlock. He then pulled from his -pocket a bunch of keys, tied together by a thong of deerskin, and, -selecting the one that seemed to suit his purpose, applied it to the -lock, which yielded readily to his hand. Lifting the door upon its rusty -hinges far enough to admit his person, he placed his foot upon a short -ladder, letting the heavy door gently down as he descended. The pit in -which he had thus voluntarily shut himself was about six feet in depth, -and walled in like a well. At the west side, and near the bottom, was a -narrow channel or passage, of sufficient size to admit a full-grown man, -running horizontally westward with side-walls, and covered with large, -flat stones. Along this passage the mysterious night-wanderer crept -softly until he came to another door, opening inward, and secured in a -similar manner to the one that he had just passed. This he unlocked, and -glided through the aperture, shutting and fastening the door carefully -behind him. He was now in the cellar of the parsonage, which was so deep -that he could stand upright without touching the timbers overhead. After -groping about in the dark for some moments he discovered a small movable -staircase standing against the wall, and leading perpendicularly upward. -This he carefully ascended until he reached a third door, constructed of -lighter materials than the others, which he easily raised with a slight -pressure of the hand. He now found himself in a spacious closet, shut in -with solid panels of oak. Letting the door noiselessly down, he stood a -moment, and listened. Putting his ear to the wainscot, he could hear the -indistinct murmur of voices in low but apparently earnest conversation. -He heaved a deep sigh, and muttering to himself, 'I pray God it be not -too late,' knocked distinctly with his heavy hand against the firm -partition. The voices ceased, and he heard a light step cross the -adjoining apartment, and then a knock against the wall corresponding to -his own. - -"'Who waits there?' inquired a voice from within. - -"'Mr. Goldsmith,' responded the stranger. - -"In a moment the door was partly opened from within by Mr. Russell, the -proprietor of the mansion, who held a lighted candle in his hand, and -who glanced stealthily into the closet, as if in doubt whether he could -safely admit his visitor. - -"'Thank Heaven!' exclaimed the clergyman, 'my expectations have not -deceived me: you are with us at last.' - -"'Ay, my son; the wanderer has returned. But you look pale--I am too -late--tell me if he yet lives?' - -"'He lives, but is fast sinking.' - -"'And his mind?' - -"'Is still wandering; but there are intervals--I should rather say -glimmerings of reason; he spoke incoherently but a moment since; but he -replied not to my words, and whether he was sleeping or waking I could -not tell. His eyes were closed.' - -"'I must see him: lead the way.' And opening wider the massive door, the -gray-haired regicide entered the apartment of the invalid. - -"It was a small but comfortable chamber, neatly carpeted, and furnished -with a table (covered with writing materials and a few books), three -large oaken chairs, and two beds, in one of which, with his face turned -to the wall, as if to avoid the trembling rays of light that flickered -upon the table, lay an old man, apparently about eighty-five years of -age. As the evening was sultry, his only covering was a single linen -sheet thrown loosely over him, from which his emaciated arm and small, -livid fingers had escaped, and lay languidly by his side. His high, -straight forehead, and calm features, which, from their perfect outline, -neither age nor disease had robbed of their serene beauty, were pale as -marble. The window was partly open to admit the cool air from the river, -and the night breeze fanned gently the thin, snow-white locks that still -lingered about his temples. The tall form of Goffe bent over him, long -and silently, while he read with mournful earnestness the ravages of -superannuation and disease in every lineament and furrow of the -venerable face of his friend. Then, turning to the clergyman, who still -remained standing by the table, he asked, in a voice choked with grief, -while a tear sparkled in his bright eye, 'How long is it, my son, since -he spoke intelligibly? Hath he inquired after me to-day?' - -"'About one o'clock, when I brought him his simple meal, he roused -himself for a moment, and demanded of me if 'I had seen his dear -major-general;' but when I sought to prolong the conversation, and asked -if he would see Goffe, his beloved son-in-law, he smiled, and said -'Yes;' but added, soon after, 'No, no: I have no son, and Goffe died -long ago.'' - -"'Alas!' replied Goffe--seating himself, and motioning the clergyman to -a seat that stood near him--'alas! I fear that my fruitless journey hath -taken from me the privilege I most prized on earth--the administering of -consolation to the last moments of this more than father.' - -"'You call it a fruitless journey, then? And did you hear no tidings of -the long-lost son?' - -"'None: I have ridden over ground where the sound of my very name would -have echoed treason; I have sought him out among men who, had they known -the name of the seeker, would gladly have bought the royal favor by -seizing and delivering over to the hands of the executioner the wasted, -life-weary _regicide_. I have this very day encountered the mortal -enemy of me and my race; but my arm struck down the wretch, as it has -stricken down many a better man in the days of the Protector. He paid -the price of his mad folly in the last debt to nature.' - -"'An enemy! and slain! Have you, then, been discovered?' - -"'Ay, an enemy to God and man. But did I not tell thee that he was -dead? Death is no betrayer of secrets: the hounds that scented my blood, -bore off his mutilated remains, but they will gladly leave them in the -wilderness to gorge the wolf and the raven.' - -"'Who is this fallen enemy?' - -"'Edward Randolph.' - -"'Edward Randolph! Have you met and slain Edward Randolph?' - -"'I have slain him. You look wild--you shudder. Dost think it a sin in -the sight of Heaven to stop the breath of a murderer? You start at my -words, and the minister of God may well shrink from the weapons which -the servants of the Protector have grown old in wielding. But, Russell, -Justice always bears a sword, and Oliver only taught us to employ it as -the meanest viper that crawls will use his envenomed tooth, to protect -his writhing shape from the foot that crushes him.' - -"'The weapons of our warfare are not carnal,' interposed the clergyman. - -"'Self-defense is the first law of our nature, Russell. But -self-defense, when roused against a tyrant, or the minions of a tyrant, -and in behalf of a goaded and maddened people, to inspire them with hope -and freedom, and lift their eyes to the pure light of heaven, is the -sentiment of a Christian patriot, and God will approve it. But let us -awaken our aged friend, and try if we can marshal his scattered thoughts -for a last conflict with the enemy of man.' - -"He walked the room a moment, to banish, by more tranquil thoughts, the -frown that still lowered upon his brow and the gleam that had lighted -his dark eye--the reflex of many a bloody field; and walking slowly up -to the bed of the sick man, stooped over him, and passed his brawny hand -over the pale forehead of the sleeper. 'Awake, father, awake!--Dost thou -not know that thy son has returned? Let me hear thy voice once again.' - -"The invalid turned his face suddenly toward the light, and, opening his -eyes, stared wildly at Goffe, but showed no signs of recognition. - -"'Speak, Whalley: do you know me?' - -"At the sound of his name, the old man started up, and rising upon his -elbow, cried, in a voice that rang hollow as the echo of the sepulchre, -'Who calls Whalley? Was it my Lord Cromwell? Was it the Lord General? -Tell him that I am ready with two hundred good troopers that carry -pistols at their holsters and swords at their girdles.' Then raising his -arm, with his small attenuated hand clenched as if it grasped the weapon -of which he raved, he continued with increased energy, 'Up, my merry -men! to horse! hew the roisterers down!--one more charge like that, and -we drive them into the morass!--There again--it was well done--now they -flounder man and horse in the dead pool--call off the men. They cry -quarter--shame on ye--'tis murder to strike a fallen foe! But I wander. -Who called Whalley? Sure I have heard that voice ere this.' - -"'It is your son: it is Goffe.' - -"'Peace, man! I know thee not. There _was_ a Goffe, who stood once -by my side in the armies of the Protector, and who sat with me in -judgment upon the tyrant; but he was attainted of high-treason, and -hanged--or, if not, he must have died in the tower. My memory is poor -and treacherous; I am _old_, sir; but you look--" - -"'Hear me, father. Do you remember under whose charge the Stuart was -placed at Hampton Court?' - -"'Do I _remember_ it!' quoth he. 'Ay, do I, as if it were but a -thing of yesterday. Yesterday! better than that. Sir, I have forgotten -_yesterday_ already: my thoughts live only in those glorious days; -they are written on the tablets of the brain as with a diamond. But what -was I saying? It has escaped me.' - -"'The Stuart, father--' - -"'Who had the Stuart in charge at Hampton Court? _I_ had him, and -thought the game-bird would sooner have escaped from the talons of the -falcon when poised on the wing, than he from me. But some knave played -me false, and for love or gold let the tyrant slip through my hands. -And, sir, to own the truth, he was a princely gentleman; and after his -escape he wrote me a loving letter, with many thanks for my gentle -courtesy and kindly care of him. Yet his phantasy was ever running upon -trifles: for in that very epistle he begged me to present in his name a -trumpery dog as a keep-sake to the Duke of Richmond. Had it not been for -such light follies and an overweening tyranny, he might have ruled -England to this hour.' - -"Goffe now perceived that he had hit upon the right vein, and proceeded -to ply him with reminiscences of his earlier manhood. - -"'Had you e'er a wife?' - -"'The wife of my youth was an angel. What of her, but that she is dead, -and I desolate? Or who are you, that venture to thrust my grief upon me -unasked. You tread upon the ashes of the dead!' - -"'Pardon me: I wound, that I may heal. Had you ever a daughter?' - -"'I had several, but I can not recall their names. Yet I am sure there -must have been more than one.' - -"'Was not one of them made by your consent the wife of William Goffe?' - -"'Yes--why yes: Frances was the wife of Goffe--a gallant officer, and a -faithful servant of God and the commonwealth. I mind him well now. He -was a host in battle, but something rash, and of a hot temper. I thought -to hear of his death at the end of every conflict with the cavaliers. He -would ride a furlong in front of his troop in the rage of pursuit, if -ever the enemy broke rank and fled.' - -"'What became of him?' - -"'He died--no--it has all come back to me now. He came with me to -America, and here in the rocks and caverns of this wilderness he has -helped to hide me, with the tenderness of a bird for its unfledged -young, through this my second infancy.' - -"'Do you not know me now?' asked Goffe, affectionately taking his hand. - -"The old man fixed his mild blue eye, already beaming with the rays of -returning intelligence, full upon the anxious face of his fellow-exile, -and gazed long and intently, as if he would have read in his features -some sign of an attempt to practice upon his credulity. Then the color -came back in a momentary glow to his cheeks, and tears flowed copiously -over them, as he threw his arms around the iron form of Goffe, and -smiled faintly as he faltered, 'Alas the day--that I should live to -forget thee, my more than son!' - -"The empire of reason was restored: and although afterward it sometimes -lost its sway in the chaos of the dim and shadowy images of the past, -yet from that time to the day of his death, the jealous glance with -which he followed the steps of the companion of his earlier and more -prosperous days, as he moved noiselessly around the room--the warm grasp -of the hand--the subdued patience of the sufferer--the oft-repeated -endearing appellation 'my son--my son'--were constant witnesses to the -faithfulness of memory, when kindled and kept in exercise by gratitude -and love." - -_Parnassus in Pillory_, by MOTLEY MANNERS, Esq. (published by Adriance, -Sherman, and Co.), is a satire of great pretension and considerable -success upon several of the most eminent living American poets. Mr. -Manners has some sharp weapons in his armory, which he flourishes with -the skill of an adroit fencing master, but in most cases, they gleam -idly in the air without drawing blood. His happiest hits are usually -harmless, but now and then they damage himself while his antagonist -escapes. On the whole, the author's forte is poetry rather than satire, -and punning more than either. In this last accomplishment, we admit his -"proud pre-eminence." - -Ticknor, Reed, and Fields have issued a new edition of _Twice Told -Tales_, by NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, with an original preface, -and a portrait of the author. The preface is highly characteristic, and -will be read with as much interest as any of the stories. Mr. Hawthorne -presents some details of his literary autobiography, in which he relates -the ill success of his first adventures as an author, with irresistible -unction and naïvete. He claims to have been for a good many years the -obscurest literary man in America. His stories were published in -magazines and annuals, for a period comprising the whole of the writer's -young manhood, without making the slightest impression on the public, -or, with the exception of "The Rill from the Town-Pump," as far as he is -aware, having met with the good or evil fortune to be read by any body. -When collected into a volume, at a subsequent period, their success was -not such as would have gratified a craving desire for notoriety, nor did -they render the writer or his productions much more generally known than -before. The philosophy of this experience is unfolded by the author -without the slightest affectation of concealment, or any show of -querulousness on account of its existence. On the contrary, he views the -whole affair with perfect good humor, and consoles himself in the -failure of large popularity, with the sincere appreciation which his -productions received in certain gratifying quarters. They were so little -talked about that those who chanced to like them felt as if they had -made a new discovery, and thus conceived a kindly feeling not only for -the book but for the author. The influence of this on his future -literary labors is set forth with his usual half-comic seriousness. "On -the internal evidence of his sketches, he came to be regarded as a mild, -shy, gentle, melancholic, exceedingly sensitive, and not very forcible -man, hiding his blushes under an assumed name, the quaintness of which -was supposed, somehow or other, to symbolize his personal and literary -traits. He is by no means certain that some of his subsequent -productions have not been influenced and modified by a natural desire to -fill up so amiable an outline, and to act in consonance with the -character assigned to him, nor even now could he forfeit it without a -few tears of tender sensibility." - -_Time the Avenger_ is the title of Mrs. MARSH'S last -novel, reprinted by Harper and Brothers. It is intended as the sequel to -"The Wilmingtons," and like that powerful story abounds in vivid -delineations of character, and natural and impressive developments of -passion. With a more reflective character than most of the former -productions of the author, the style is equally vigorous and sparkling -with that of the admirable works which have given her such a brilliant -celebrity. - -_The Educational System of the Puritans and Jesuits compared_, by -N. PORTER, Professor in Yale College (published by M. W. Dodd) -is an historical and argumentative treatise discussing the origin, -influence, and prevalence in this country of the two systems. The views -of the author are presented with discrimination and force, and well -deserve the attention of the friends of religion and education. - -George P. Putnam has issued the second part of _The Girlhood of -Shakspeare's Heroines_, by MARY COWDEN CLARKE, containing -_The Thane's Daughter_, in which the early history of Lady Macbeth -is described in an ingenious and lively fiction. The story does great -credit to the author's power of invention, and is executed with so much -skill, as in some degree to atone for the presumptuousness of the -enterprise. The volume is embellished with a neat engraving of "Cawdor -Castle." - -Munroe and Francis, Boston, have published a volume of _Poetry from -the Waverly Novels_, containing the poems scattered through the -Waverly Novels, which are supposed to be written by Sir Walter Scott, -and which are ascribed by him to anonymous sources. The volume will be -welcomed by every lover of poetry and of Scott, not only for the -agreeable associations which it awakens, but for the numerous delicious -morceaux which it has preserved. - -A new edition of _Essays and Reviews_ by EDWIN P. WHIPPLE, -has been issued by Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, comprising the contents of -the former edition, with a Review of Dana's Poems and Prose Writings, -and one or two less elaborate papers. These volumes present the -character of the author as an acute and enlightened critic in a very -favorable light. With a familiar knowledge of the lighter portions of -English literature, a healthy relish for the racy varieties of a wide -range of authors, a sensitive taste which is none the less accurate in -its decisions for being catholic in its affinities, a peculiar facility -in appreciating the point of view of the writers under discussion, and a -richness, point, and beauty of expression rarely combined in any -department of composition, Mr. Whipple has attained a deserved eminence -as a critical authority, which is certainly not surpassed in the field -of American letters, and with but few exceptions, by any writer in the -English language. - -_Elements of Analytical Geometry and of the Differential and Integral -Calculus_, by ELIAS LOOMIS, Professor in the University of -New York (published by Harper and Brothers) presents the principles of -the sciences treated of, with a precision of statement and clearness of -illustration, without sacrificing any thing of scientific rigor, which -make it an admirable text-book for the college student, as well as a -facile guide for the mathematical amateur. The happy manner in which the -knotty points of the Calculus are unraveled in this treatise presents a -strong temptation to plunge into the time-devouring study. - -Harper and Brothers have published _Wallace_ and _Mary -Erskine_, being the second and third numbers of Mr. ABBOTT'S -popular series of _Franconia Stories_. - -_The City of the Silent_, by W. GILMORE SIMMS, is the -title of an occasional poem delivered at the consecration of Magnolia -Cemetery, Charleston, S. C. Its felicitous selection of topics, and -classic beauty of expression, entitle it to a high place in the current -poetry of the day, and amply sustain the reputation of the distinguished -author. The notes exhibit a rich store of curious erudition. - -_The Shipmaster's Assistant and Commercial Digest_, by JOSEPH -BLUNT, is published by Harper and Brothers, in the fifth edition, -although such changes have been introduced as to render it in fact a new -work. It presents a complete digest of the laws of the different States -of the Union, relating to subjects connected with navigation; a -systematic arrangement of the acts of Congress in regard to the revenue -and commerce; a view of the different moneys and weights and measures of -the world, besides an immense amount of information, under appropriate -heads, on the various points of marine law and commercial regulations -that can interest an American shipmaster. - - - - -Three Leaves from Punch. - - - - -[Illustration: 1851. - -"PLEASE, SIR, SHALL I HOLD YOUR HORSE?"] - - * * * * * - - -THE AFFAIRS OF GREASE. - -Fat cattle did not sell well this year. Their ever-obesity seems to have -been one of the causes of their going off so heavily--which is no -wonder. Fat oxen can not be expected to be brisk. Now, this truth has -been brought home to graziers, perhaps they will abandon the system of -fattening animals so enormously; which is the merest infatuation. - - * * * * * - - -THE WAR ON HATS. - -Every one knows that _Punch_ has lately been knocking the modern hat -upon the head with his playful, but powerful _bâton_. War to the hat is -happily superseding, on the Continent, the rage for making war on crowns -alone; and, indeed, we had so much rather see the military employed -abroad in a crusade against hats than in the work of carnage, that, by -way of giving employment in a good cause, to a brave soldier, we invest -with full powers against hats the renowned GENERAL HATZOFF. - - * * * * * - - -PEACE OFFERING. - -The Crystal Palace may be looked upon as a noble Temple of Peace, where -all nations will meet, by appointment, under the same roof, and shake -each other by the hand. It is very curious that one-half of MR. PAXTON'S -name should be significant of Peace. We propose, therefore, that over -the principal entrance there be erected in large gold letters, the -following motto, so that all foreigners may read it as a friendly salute -on the part of England: - - "PAX(_ton_) VOBISCUM." - - * * * * * - - -THE BEST LAW BOOK. - -We find there has been recently advertised a Law Book under the -promising title of _Broom's Practice_. This is just what is wanted in -the law; the Broom happens to be a good one, for a little practice with -such an implement may have the effect of operating a sweeping reform. - - * * * * * - - - - -JUSTICE FOR BACHELORS. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - -"DEAR MR. PUNCH, - -"I am a bachelor, and my friends, I believe, allow that, in the main, I -am a tolerably good-natured fellow--but just look here! I was invited a -few days ago to spend a week at a country house, and here I am; but I -must confess that I was a little put out when taken to the very top of -it, and told that this was my bedroom. I have since been led to suppose -that unmarried men must expect to sleep in the worst rooms there are; -for see--this is the bedroom of a married couple, friends of mine. -Now--confound it! I say the comfort is monstrously and unfairly -disproportioned. The ladies--bless them!--ought, of course, to be made -as cosy as possible; no man could object to their having their nice -little bit of fire, and their dear little slippers placed before it, -with their couches, and their easy chairs, &c.--of course not--but that -is no reason why we single men should be treated like so many Shetland -ponies. There is no fireplace in my room, and the only ventilation is -through a broken window. As far as the shooting, the riding, the eating -and drinking go, I have nothing whatever to complain of. But I want to -know why--why _this_ mature female always answers my bell, and that -great brute Snawkins (whose mind, by-the-by, is not half so well -regulated as mine)--merely because he is a married man--has his hot -water brought by this little maid! I don't understand it. You may print -this, if you like; only send me a few copies of _Punch_, when it -appears, that's a good fellow, and I will carelessly leave them about, -in the hope that Mrs. Haycock may see them; and by Jove! if the hint is -not taken, and my bedroom changed--or, at least, made more -comfortable--I'll--yes--(there's an uncommonly nice girl stopping here) -I'll be hanged if I don't think very seriously of getting married -myself. - - "Believe me, my dear _Punch_, - "Yours faithfully, - "CHARLES SINGLEBOY." - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - -DRAMAS FOR EVERY-DAY LIFE. - - -The following drama is upon a subject that will come home to the heart -and tongue, the lungs and the lips, the epiglottis and the affections, -of every Englishman. There is not a theme in the whole range of -every-day life, that so frequently furnishes the matter of conversation, -and there can be none, consequently, so universal in its interest, as -the one which forms the subject of the drama we are about to present to -our readers. In every circle, at every hour of every day, the first -point started by every one meeting with another, and taken up by that -other with the keenest relish, is--The Weather. The title may not appear -at first sight a promising one, for the purposes of the dramatist; but -if he can succeed in presenting to his countrymen a type of a drama for -every-day life, divested of those common-places which long habit and an -apparent exhaustion of the theme may have thrown about it, he will be -content to hang up his harp on the first hat-peg of "Tara's," or any one -else's "hall," and repose, as well as such a substitute for a mattress -will allow him, upon his already-acquired laurels. But without further -prologue, we will "ring up," and let the curtain rise for the drama of - - - THE WEATHER. - - * * * * * - - DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. - - MR. MUFFLE { _An old friend of the late husband of_ - { MRS. YAWNLEY. - - MRS. MUFFLE _Wife of_ MR. MUFFLE. - - MRS. SHIVERS { _A casual acquaintance of_ MRS. YAWNLEY, - { _and knowing incidentally a little of the_ - { MUFFLES. - - MRS. YAWNLEY { _A widow, whose late husband was a friend of_ - { MR. MUFFLE. - - Servant to MRS. YAWNLEY. - -_The_ SCENE _passes in the drawing-room of_ MRS. YAWNLEY. _The Stage -represents a handsome drawing-room, elegantly furnished. There is a door -at the back opening on to a hall in which is hung a weather-glass._ - -MRS. YAWNLEY _(in a morning dress) discovered seated in conversation -with_ MRS. SHIVERS, _who wears her shawl and bonnet_. - - * * * * * - - _Mrs. Y._ It is indeed! the winter, as you say, - Has now set in with great severity. - - _Mrs. S._ Not that I think we've reason to complain. - This is December, we should recollect. - - _Mrs. Y._ We should indeed--a very true remark: - And one that never struck me till you made it. - - _Enter_ Servant, _announcing_ MR. _and_ MRS. MUFFLE. - - _Mrs. Y._ (_rising._) Dear MRS. MUFFLE, this is very kind, - To come to see me on a day like this. - Which I and MRS. SHIVERS (whom you know) - Were just remarking was extremely cold. - - _Mr. M._ Cold--do you think! - - _Mrs. Y._ Yes--pray come near the fire. - - _Mrs. M._ Oh! Thank you--no--I'd really rather not. - I'm very warm with walking. - - [_Sits at a distance._ - - _Mrs. S._ Probably. - But walking somehow never makes me warm. - -[_An awkward pause, during which_ MR. MUFFLE _puts his fingers between -the bars of a parrot's cage, as if playing with the bird, receives a -savage snap, but says nothing, as the affair is not remarked by any -body_.] - - _Mrs. Y._ What think you, MISTER MUFFLE, will it rain? - You gentlemen can always judge so well. - - _Mr. M._ (_Walking to the window, partly to - conceal the pain of his finger._) Why, that depends - a good deal on the wind. - - _Mrs. S._ They say that when the smoke is beaten down, - Rain may be looked for. - - _Mrs. M._ I have often heard - That if the birds fly very near the ground, - Wet is in store. Look at that sparrow now, - He's fairly _on_ the ground, so it _must_ rain. - - _Mrs. Y._ But now he's off again, and so it won't, - Those adages, I think, are often wrong. - - _Mr. M._ One rule I've always found infallible. - - _Mrs. S._ Pray tell us what it is. - - _Mrs. Y._ Do--I entreat. - It would be so convenient to know. - Some certain rule by which to guide one's self. - My glass deceives me often. - - _Mrs. M._ (_in a mental aside._) Rather say - Your glass tells often some unpleasant truths. - - _Mr. M._ My weather-glass, dear madam, is my corn. - - _Mrs. M._ Why, really, MISTER M., you're quite absurd; - Have we the means of guidance such as that? - You're positively rude. - - _Mrs. Y._ (_laughing._) Oh, not at all; - He's trod upon no tender place of mine. - - _Mrs. S._ I've heard some story of the tails of cows - 'Tis said that when to the wind's quarter turn'd, - They augur rain. Now tell me, MR. MUFFLE, - Do you believe in that? - - _Mr. M._ I'd trust a cow's, - As well as any other idle tail. - - _Mrs. Y._ That's saying very little. Tell me, now, - (For your opinion, really, I respect,) - Are mackerel-looking clouds a sign of wet? - - _Mr. M._ I think it probable that mackerel clouds - Betoken wet, just as a mackerel's self - Puts us in mind of water. - - _Mrs. S._ Are you joking - Or speaking as a scientific man? - - _Mrs. Y._ You're such a wag, there's never any knowing - When you are serious, or half in jest. - Dear MRS. MUFFLE, you that know him best, - Shall we believe him? - - _Mrs. M._ Oh, I can say nothing, - -[_All laugh for some minutes, on and off, at the possibly intended wit -of_ MR. MUFFLE; _and the tittering having died off gradually, there is a -pause_.] - - _Mrs. M._ (_to_ MRS. Y.) Have you been out much lately? - - _Mrs. Y._ No, indeed, - The dampness in the air prevented me. - - _Mrs. S._ 'Tis rather drier now. - - _Mrs. Y._ I think it is. - I hope I shall be getting out next week, - If I can find a clear and frosty day. - - _Mr. M._ I think 'tis very probable you will. - - _Mrs. Y._ I'm quite delighted to have heard you say so; - But are you quizzing us. You're such a quiz! - - _Mr. M._ (_with serious earnestness._) Believe me, MRS. YAWNLEY, when - I say - I've far too much regard--too much esteem-- - For one I've known as long as I've known you, - To say a word intending to mislead; - In friendship's solemn earnestness I said, - And say again, pledging my honor on it, - 'Tis my belief we may, ere very long, - Some clear and frosty days anticipate. - - _Mrs. Y._ I know your kindness, and I feel it much; - You were my poor dear husband's early friend. - -[_Taking out her handkerchief._ MRS. S. _goes toward the window to avoid -being involved in the scene._] - - I feel that though with cheerful badinage - You now and then amuse a passing hour, - When with a serious appeal addressed, - You never make a frivolous reply. - - _Mrs. M._ (_rising, and kissing_ MRS. Y.) You do him justice, but we - must be going. - - _Mr. M._ (_giving his hand to_ MRS. Y.) Good morning, MRS. YAWNLEY. - - _Mrs. Y._ Won't you wait, - And take some luncheon? - - _Mr. M._ Thank you; no, indeed; - We must be getting home, I fear 'twill rain. - - _Mrs. S._ I think you go my way--I'm in a fly, - And shall be very glad to set you down. - - _Mrs. M._ Oh, thank you; that's delightful. - - _Mrs. S._ (_to_ MRS. Y.) So, I'll say - Good-by at once. - - _Mrs. Y._ Well, if you will not stay. - -[MR. _and_ MRS. MUFFLE, _and_ MRS. SHIVERS, _exeunt by the door_. MRS. -YAWNLEY _goes to the bell_. MR. MUFFLE _taps on the weather-glass; the -bell rings; and the glass, which is going down, falls considerably at -the same moment as the curtain_.] - - - - -[Illustration: A JUVENILE PARTY. - -_First Juvenile._--"THAT'S A PRETTY GIRL TALKING TO YOUNG ALGERNON -BINKS." - -_Second Juvenile._--"HM--TOL-LOL! YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER SOME SEASONS -AGO."] - - - - -THE KITCHEN RANGE OF ART. - - -Soyer, in his _Modern Housewife_, is quite angry that our great -Painters have never busied themselves with "such useful and interesting -subjects" as the subjects of the kitchen, instead of "continually -tracing on innumerable yards of canvas the horrors of war, the -destruction of a fire by fire or water, the plague, the storm, the -earthquake." For this purpose, SOYER suggests some admirable -historical events, connected with the _Cuisine_, on which artists -might, with advantage, employ their genius. Among others, he mentions -the following: - -"LOUIS XIV., at Versailles, receiving from the hands of the PACHA the -First Cup of _Café_ ever made in France." - -"VOLTAIRE helping FREDERIC, on the Field of Potsdam, with a Cup of -Cho-ca." - -"CARDINAL MAZARIN tasting, at the Louvre, the First Cup of Chocolate." - -In all matters of taste (excepting his _Nectar_ and his _Economical -Soup_, which, we candidly confess, we never could stomach) we always -agree with the mighty SOYER. And we are so moved with his indignation at -the neglect with which artists have too long visited all subjects -connected with culinary art, that we go out of our way to give Royal -Academicians the benefit of the following notions, which may have the -desired effect of elevating the _Cuisine_ to the same level as the -Conqueror's Tent, or the Monarch's Council Chamber. We see a grand -historical picture in each of the following suggestions: - -"GEORGE THE THIRD in the Old Woman's Cottage, wondering 'how ever the -apples got inside the apple-dumpling.'" - -"UDE Tearing his Hair, upon learning that the British Nobleman had put -salt into his soup." - -"The DUKE OF NORFOLK conceiving the brilliant notion of rescuing a -Nation from Starvation, by means of his celebrated Curry-Powder." - -"The Immortal Courage of the GREAT UNKNOWN who Swallowed the First -Oyster." - -"MARIE-ANTOINETTE wondering how the People could starve, when there were -such nice little _Gâteaux_ at three sous apiece." - -"NAPOLEON Eating the Dish of Stewed Mushrooms, by which, it is said, he -lost (in consequence of the indigestion), the Battle of Leipzig." - -"The Resignation of SOYER at the Reform Club." - -"Portrait of the Celebrated American Oyster, that was so large, that it -took three men to swallow it." - -"ABERNATHY inventing his Dinner-Pill." - -"BRILLAT SAVARIN tasting the Wonderful Sauce, that was so delicious, -that a person could eat his own father with it." - -"CÆSAR, or DANDO, Astonishing the Natives." - -"Heroic Death of VATEL, upon hearing that the Fish had not arrived." - -"CANN first hitting upon the glorious idea of giving in Holborn 'a -devilish good dinner for 2-1/2_d._'" - -As soon as our great Painters have put into living shape the above -delicious _morçeaux_, we shall be prepared to furnish them with another -course of the same choice quality. - - - - -[Illustration: REWARD OF MERIT. - -_Ragged Urchin._--"PLEASE GIVE DAD A SHORT PIPE?" - -_Barman._--"CAN'T DO IT. DON'T KNOW HIM." - -_Ragged Urchin._--"WHY, HE GETS DRUNK HERE EVERY SATURDAY NIGHT." - -_Barman._--"OH! DOES HE, MY LITTLE DEAR? THEN 'ERE'S A NICE LONG 'UN, -WITH A BIT OF WAX AT THE END."] - - - - -SPRING FASHIONS. - - -[Illustration: FIG. 1.--PROMENADE AND EVENING COSTUMES.] - -Like coquettish April, Fashion is now beginning to exchange its more -sombre aspect for its sweetest smiles, and to develop its pretty flowers -and delicate foliage. The darker colors and firmer textures of winter -are now disappearing, and all the gay hues and lighter fabrics are -taking their places. - -WALKING DRESSES.--Silks of every color and texture are now to be seen -for afternoon toilet. We may cite the following as the most general form -in which they are made: First, a dress of green silk or velvet, the -skirt made perfectly plain and very full; three-quarters high body, -fitting close to the figure, and ornamented with _noeuds_ of velvet, -to which are attached three small drops of fancy buttons, put on at -regular distances, and reaching from the top of the corsage to the lower -edge of the skirt. Loose sleeves, made open up to the elbow at the back, -and rounded, trimmed with a double frilling of narrow velvet. Chemisette -and full sleeves of white cambric. Bonnet of a deep lilac _velours -épinglé_. Across the centre of the front is worked a wreath in tambour -work, the edge of the front finished with a narrow fulling. The curtain -is bordered to match the front, the interior of which is decorated with -loops of ribbon, with _brides_ to match. Such is the costume represented -on the right in Figure 1. - -Another beautiful walking dress is of green silk, the skirt trimmed with -three deep flounces, the upper one descending from the waist, and each -encircled with three narrow _galons_, put on so as to represent square -vandykes; high body, closing at the back, and ornamented in front of the -chest with five _noeuds papillons_, and on either side three _galons_, -forming _revers_. Pagoda sleeves, rather short, and finished with two -frillings decorated with _galons_; white sleeves of embroidered muslin, -having three frillings of Valenciennes lace. Another pretty style is -composed of _moire antique_ of a dark blue and black ground, _broché_ in -light blue, and trimmed with a _chenille_ lace of a dark blue color. -Changeable, lilac, pale blue, and corn-color silks are now becoming -fashionable for walking dresses. - -EVENING COSTUME.--Every variety of color is now fashionable for evening -costume. The most favorite colors are _mauve_, amber, pink, lilac, blue, -and peach. The centre figure in our first illustration exhibits a very -elegant evening costume. A dress of pale pink satin, trimmed upon each -side of the skirt with a broad lappet of the same, edged with a flat row -of blonde, and confined at two distances with a _noeud_ of satin and -two ostrich feathers shaded pink, the lower part being rounded. The -centre of the pointed corsage is formed of two rows of lace, divided -with fullings of satin; the cape is composed of two rows of lace, headed -with a fulling of ribbon. The cap is composed of white lace and -decorated with pink ribbons and feathers. - -[Illustration: FIG. 2.--COIFFURE.] - -COIFFURES.--There is a great variety of head dresses, many of them -extremely rich and elegant. They are composed of light fabrics, and -flowers of the rarest kind. The latter are generally intermixed with -fancy ribbons, combining the most vivid hues with threads of gold or -silver, while others are varied with _noeuds_ and streamers of ribbon -velvet. Figure 2 represents a neat style of head dress for an evening -party, showing the arrangement of the back hair. An elegant style of -_coiffure_ is composed of the white thistle, intermixed with small -clusters of gold berries and white gauze ribbon, richly embroidered with -gold. Those formed of ivy leaves, interspersed with tips of white -_marabout sables d'or_, and attached with bows of green and gold ribbon, -are extremely elegant. - -[Illustration: FIG. 3.--BONNET.] - -[Illustration: FIG. 4.--STRAW BONNET.] - -BONNETS.--Figure 3 represents a very pretty style of bonnet, adapted for -early spring. It is composed of folds of pink silk or satin, ornamented -within with flowers. The front is trimmed with fullings of satin, -attached to which, and frilling back, is a row of pointed lace. Figure 4 -shows an elegant style of straw flat, for a little Miss, trimmed, in -connection with the tie, with several folds of satin ribbon. The only -external ornament is a long ostrich feather, sweeping gracefully around -the front of the crown, and falling upon the side of the brim. - -BALL DRESSES are of almost every variety of style. Narrow blondes are -now much used for decorating ball dresses; they give a light and -sparkling effect when arranged in narrow _rûches_ upon a dress of rich -satin. Sometimes the skirt is trimmed with a single flower, upon which -is placed five or six _papillons_ of blonde, and sometimes upon one -skirt are four flounces, made of the same material as the dress, or of -lace. The figure on the left, in our first plate, represents an elegant -and elaborate style. The dress is pale amber satin; the corsage low; the -waist long, and _à pointe; berthe_ of _point d'Alençon_; the sleeves are -short and plain, and are nearly covered by the deep _berthe_; the skirt -is long and full, trimmed with a double row of _dentelle de laine_, -between which are bows of broad satin ribbon. The _sortie de bal_ which -covers the body, is of white cachmere, finished by a deep flounce of -_dentelle de laine_. Across the front are placed five rows of fancy silk -fringe; the top row going round the shoulders in the form of a small -cape; the pelerine, or hood, is composed entirely of _dentelle de -laine_; tassels at the corner in front; the sleeves very wide and -trimmed with deep lace to correspond with the flounce. The hood, which, -in the figure is thrown over the head, is terminated at the points with -two large tassels of fancy silk. This is an elegant costume in which to -leave the ball room for the carriage. - - - - -Transcriber's Note: - -Variant and dialect spelling have been retained. - -Punctuation normalized without comment. - -Italics denoted by "_". - -Page 606, "passions with suprising" was changed to read "passions with -surprising." - -Page 611, "the wise resotion" was changed to read "the wise resolution." - -Page 615, "too diminuitive for" was changed to read "too diminutive -for." - -Page 624, "southorn France." was changed to read "southern France." - -Page 628, "he never quited" was changed to read "he never quitted." - -Page 647, "spectral arrray of" was changed to read "spectral array of." - -Page 658, "myrtles, and larels" was changed to read "myrtles, and -laurels." - -Page 662, "accompanied by selfishess" was changed to read "accompanied -by selfishness." - -Page 662, "measles, hooping-cough," was changed to read "measles, -whooping-cough,." - -Page 665, "for I havn't done" was changed to "for I haven't done." - -Page 668, "for these anouncements" was changed to read "for these -announcements." - -Page 672, "door pannels" was changed to read "door panels." - -Page 680, "if I arrrived" was changed to read "if I arrived." - -Page 681, "momently harrassed me" was changed to read "momently -harassed me." - -Page 693, "that peried of" was changed to read "that period of." - -Page 694, "his old parishoners" was changed to read "his old -parishioners." - -Page 701, "punished by courts martial" was changed to read "punished by -courts-martial." - -Page 701, "against the Camanches" was changed to read "against the -Comanches." - -Page 705, "Bavarian court-martials" was changed to read "Bavarian -courts-martial." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. -XI.--April, 1851--Vol. II., by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY *** - -***** This file should be named 41576-8.txt or 41576-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/5/7/41576/ - -Produced by Wayne Hammond, David Kline, 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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