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diff --git a/41629-8.txt b/41629-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1ebb7d4..0000000 --- a/41629-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14805 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. -XXIII.--April, 1852.--Vol. IV., 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. XXIII.--April, 1852.--Vol. IV. - None - -Author: Various - -Release Date: December 15, 2012 [EBook #41629] - -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 (This -file was produced from scans of public domain works at the -University of Michigan's Making of America collection.) - - - - - - - - - - HARPER'S - - NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. - - No. XXIII.-APRIL, 1852.--VOL. IV. - - - - -RODOLPHUS.--A FRANCONIA STORY. - -BY JACOB ABBOTT. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -I. THE SNOW-SHOES. - -As soon as Martha had gone, Ellen began to make such preparations as she -thought necessary for the night. She placed the furniture of the room in -order. She brought in some wood from the back room and laid it down very -gently by the side of the fire, so as to have a sufficient supply of -fuel at hand. She also brought the water pail and put it under the seat -of the settle, in order that the water might not freeze, and by means of -a long-handled tin dipper she filled the tea kettle full, in order that -there might be an ample supply of hot water, should any occasion occur -requiring any. She then brought a small blanket and held it to the fire, -and when it was very thoroughly warm, she put it very gently under the -counterpane, around her aunt's feet, fearing that her feet might be -cold. In fact they were very cold. Ellen extinguished the lamp, too, and -put it away upon her table near the window, lest the light of it should -shine upon her aunt's eyes and disturb her sleep. The light of the fire -was sufficient to illuminate the room. The light of the fire, too, -seemed more cheerful to Ellen than that of the lamp. It flashed brightly -upon the walls and ceiling, and diffused a broad and genial glow all -over the floor. - -Ellen made all these arrangements in the most quiet and noiseless manner -possible. During all the time her aunt lay silent and motionless, as if -in a profound slumber. - -After Ellen had extinguished the lamp, she paused a moment, looking -around the room to see if there was any thing which she had forgotten. -She could not think of any thing else to do, and so she concluded to sit -down and watch by her aunt until Martha should return. - -She took a cushion from a great rocking chair which stood in a corner of -the room, and put it down upon the bear skin rug. She then sat down upon -the cushion and laid her head upon the pillow by the side of her aunt. -She then gently took her aunt's hand and laid it upon her cheek, in the -position in which her aunt herself had placed it, when Ellen had laid -her head down there before. She looked timidly into her aunt's face as -she did this, to see whether any signs that she was awake could be -observed. The eyes of the patient opened a very little, and a faint -smile lighted up her pale features for a moment, and Ellen thought that -she could perceive a gentle pressure upon her cheek from her aunt's -hand. In a moment, however, both the hand and the face returned to their -state of repose, as before. - -Ellen remained quiet in this position a few minutes, looking into the -fire, and wondering when Martha would come back, when she felt something -gently touching her upon the shoulder. She looked round and found that -it was Lutie climbing up upon her. Lutie had jumped up from the floor to -the couch, and had crept along to where Ellen was lying, and was now -cautiously stepping over upon her. - -"Ah, Lutie," said she. "Is it you? It is time for you to go to bed." - -Lutie's bed was out in the back room. There was no door leading from the -room where Ellen was, directly into the back room. It was necessary to -go into a sort of entry first, and from this entry into the back room by -a separate door. All this may be clearly understood by referring to the -plan. - -It happened, however, that there was an old window in the partition -between the great room and the back room. The reason why this window was -in the partition was this. The house was first built without any back -room, and then the window on that side looked out upon the yard. When at -last the back room was built, the window was rendered useless, but it -was not closed up. There was a curtain over it, and this curtain was -always left drawn. The back room was used for storage of various things, -and for rough and heavy work on extraordinary occasions. - -Lutie's bed was in a box in a corner of this room. The place is marked L -in the plan. The bed was made of carpets and was very warm. Lutie was -always put out there every night at nine o'clock. She was not allowed to -remain at the fireside all night, lest she should do some damage to the -various things which were placed there on cold nights to keep them warm. -Lutie was accustomed to remain quietly in her bed until Martha got up in -the morning. She always knew when Martha got up, however early it might -be, for she could see the glow of the fire which Martha made, shining -through the old window in the partition between the rooms. When Lutie -saw this light she would go to the window, jump up upon the sill -outside, and mew for Martha to let her in. - -Although it was not yet nine o'clock, and though Ellen would have liked -Lutie's company as long as she remained alone with her aunt, she thought -she would put her out. - -"I may fall asleep myself," said she, "and then you will creep along -upon Aunt Anne, and disturb her. So you must go, Lutie." - -She accordingly took up the kitten and carried her out. When she opened -the door into the entry, she saw quite a little drift of snow, which had -blown in under the edge of the door from the outer platform. - -"Ah, it is a cold and stormy night," said she, "but you must get into -bed as soon as you can, and get warm." - -Ellen stopped a moment to listen to the sound of the storm, as it howled -and roared among the trees of the forest, and then went back again to -her place at the fireside. - -She moved her cushion and rug to the foot of the couch, and then -bringing a pillow from the bedroom, she put it upon the couch, at the -foot of it, so that she could sit upon the cushion, and lay her head -upon her own pillow, without any danger of incommoding or disturbing her -aunt. She then sat down and laid her head upon this pillow, with her -face toward the fire. She determined, however, though she thus laid her -head down, not to go to sleep, but to keep awake, if she possibly could, -until Martha or Hugh should return. - -She did go to sleep, however, notwithstanding all her resolution. She -was asleep in fifteen minutes after she had laid her head down. - -[Illustration: ELLEN ASLEEP.] - -Lutie fell asleep too, very soon, in her bed in the back room, and -Ellen's aunt was asleep, so that all were asleep. There was no one -watching or awake in all the house. - -Ellen slept several hours. In the mean time the wind and storm raged -more and more violently without, and the snow fell from the skies and -was driven along the ground faster and faster. Great drifts formed upon -the roofs and around the chimneys; and below, the yards, the fences, the -woodpiles were all covered. Great banks of snow were formed too, behind -the house, in the whirling eddy produced by the wind in turning round -the corner. One of these banks rose gradually up against the windows on -that side. At ten o'clock the whole lower sash of each window was -covered; at half past ten the snow had risen half way up the upper sash, -and at eleven one window was entirely concealed, while only a little -corner of the other was left, and even that was fast disappearing. The -bucket in the well was filled, and the snow was banked up against the -sides of the curb, till at last the crest of the drift began to curl -over at the top, as if seeking to bury up the well entirely. The fences -were all hidden from view, and a cart which had been left standing in -the corner of the yard, was so entirely covered, that nothing remained -but a white and shapeless mound to mark the place where it lay buried. - -At last Ellen opened her eyes again. She was at first frightened to find -that she had been asleep. She feared that some mischief might have -happened, while she had been insensible. The fire had burned entirely -down, and the room was almost dark. Ellen threw on a small stick of wood -to make a little blaze, and by the light of this blaze she looked at her -aunt. She was lying, she found, in the same posture as when Ellen went -to sleep. Ellen put her ear down to listen, and found that her aunt was -breathing--very gently, indeed--but still breathing. - -Ellen looked at the clock; for there was a large clock standing in a -corner of the room. It was twelve. - -"It is midnight," said Ellen; "I did not think it was so late." - -Ellen next put some large sticks of wood upon the fire. The room, she -thought, was getting cold. The wood was dry and it blazed up very -cheerfully and illuminated the whole apartment with a very cheerful -light. Lutie saw the light shining through the curtain, and she supposed -that it was morning, and that Martha had built the fire. So she -stretched her paws and rubbed her face, and then after listening a -moment to the sound of the storm, she stepped over the side of the box -where her bed was made, walked to the window, leaped up upon the -window-sill, and mewed, according to her usual custom, expecting that -Martha would come to let her in. - -Ellen went and opened the window for Lutie. Then she went back again to -the fire. She stood at the fire a minute or two, and then went to the -front window of the room, to look out; she wondered what could have -become of Martha. She listened at the window. The storm was roaring -dreadfully down the valley, but nothing could be seen. The panes of -glass were half covered with the snow, which was banked up upon the sash -on the outside. Ellen concluded that she would go to the door, where -she thought that perhaps she might see a little way down the road, and -if she could not see, at least she could listen. So she put a shawl over -her shoulders and went out into the porch. She shut the door leading -from the porch into the room, and then unlatched the porch-door which -opened to the outer air. - -As she opened the door a great bank of snow which had been piled up on -the outside of it, fell in about her feet. Ellen stepped back a little, -and then, standing still, she looked out into the storm and listened. -She had not listened long before she thought she heard a distant cry. It -came from down the road. She listened again. There came a blustering -blast of wind which rocked the trees, whirled the snow in her face, -roared in the chimneys over her head, and for a moment drowned all other -sounds. When this had passed, Ellen listened again. She was sure that -she heard a distant cry. - -"It is my father and mother!" she exclaimed; "they are out in the -storm!" - -Ellen's aunt had taught her to be collected and composed in all sudden -and alarming emergencies, and always to take time to consider calmly -what to do, however urgent the case might be. She stood for a moment, -therefore, quietly where she was, and then determined to go and wake her -aunt, and tell her what she had heard, and ask her what she had better -do. - -She tried to shut the door but she could not. The snow that had fallen -in prevented its closing. So she left it open and went through the porch -to the inner door, and so back into the room, taking care to shut the -inner door as soon as possible after she had passed through. - -She went to the couch, and kneeling down before it, she put her hand -softly upon her aunt's cheek and said, speaking in a low and gentle -tone, - -"Aunt!--Aunt Anne!" - -There was no answer. - -"Aunt Anne!" she repeated. "Wake up a moment;--I want to speak to you a -moment." - -There was still no answer. Ellen looked at her aunt's pale and beautiful -face for a moment, in doubt whether to speak to her again; and then she -determined to give up the attempt to awaken her, and to decide herself -what to do. - -After a little reflection she concluded that she would go, a little way -at least, and see if she could learn what the cries were that she heard. -She accordingly went to a closet in her aunt's bedroom, and took down a -cloak which was hanging there, and also a warm quilted hood. These she -put on. She then went into the back room and got a pair of snow-shoes -which hung against the wall there. She carried these snow-shoes into the -porch, and put them down upon the floor.[1] - -[Footnote 1: Snow-shoes are of an oval form and large and flat. They are -made of basket-work or of leather straps braided together. They are worn -by being fastened to the soles of the feet, and prevent the feet from -sinking down into the snow.] - -"Now," said she, "I will get the horn." The horn which she referred to -was made of tin. It was kept hanging upon a nail near the back-door, and -was used for calling Hugh to dinner, when he was far away from the -house. It was very hard to blow for one who was not accustomed to it, -but when it was blown skillfully it could be heard a great way. - -Ellen took down the horn from its nail, and went back into the porch. -She fastened the snow shoes to her feet, and drawing the cloak around -her, she sallied out into the storm. - -She could scarcely see where to go. The wind blew the snow in her face, -and every thing was so covered that all the usual landmarks were -concealed from view. The snow was very light, but the snow-shoes -prevented her from sinking into it. She walked on toward the road, -without however knowing exactly on what course she was going. In fact, -in coming out of the yard, she inclined so far to the left, in her -bewilderment, that instead of going out at the gateway, she passed over -a corner of the fence, without knowing it--fence and gateway being both -alike deeply buried in the snow. - -[Illustration: THE SNOW SHOES.] - -As soon as Ellen found that she was in the road, she stopped, and -turning her back to the wind, blew a long and loud blast with her horn. -She then immediately paused to listen, in order that she might hear if -there should be any reply. She heard a reply. It sounded like one or two -voices calling together. The voices were shrill. As soon as the response -ceased, Ellen blew her horn again. - -There was a second response--louder than the preceding one. Ellen was -very much pleased to find that her signals were heard, and she -immediately began to walk on down the road, in the direction from which -the sounds had proceeded. - -One makes but a slow and laborious progress when walking upon -snow-shoes. It is true that the shoes do not sink far into the snow, but -they sink a little, and they are so large and unwieldy that it is quite -difficult to walk upon them. Besides, the snow-shoes which Ellen wore -were too large for her. They were made for a man. Still Ellen advanced -without any serious difficulty, though she was obliged to stop now and -then to rest. Whenever she stopped she would blow her horn again, and -listen for the response. The response always came, and it became louder -and louder the farther she proceeded down the valley. - -At length Ellen arrived at the place from which the cries that she had -heard proceeded. She found there a horse and sleigh almost buried in the -snow, with her mother and Rodolphus in the sleigh. It would be hard to -say which was most astonished, Ellen, to find her mother and Rodolphus -in such a situation, or Mrs. Linn, at finding Ellen coming to their -rescue. - -"Why, mother!" exclaimed Ellen; "is this you?" - -"Why, Ellen!" said her mother; "is it possible that this is you?" - -"Why, mother!" said Ellen, more and more astonished; "did you undertake -to come up in all this storm alone, with only Rodolphus?" - -"No," said her mother, "Hugh came with us. We have been four hours -getting so far as here, and when Hugh found that we could not get any -further, he left us and went away alone to get some help." - -"And you are almost frozen to death, I suppose," said Ellen. - -"No," said her mother, "we are not very cold; we are well wrapped up in -buffalo robes, and the bottom of the sleigh is filled with straw." -Rodolphus peeped out from beneath the mass of coverings with which he -was enveloped, unharmed, but yet pale with anxiety and terror, though -now overjoyed at seeing Ellen. - -"But I don't see now what we are to do, to get home," said Ellen. "There -is only one pair of snow-shoes, and there are three of us to go." - -"We must go one at a time, then," said Rodolphus. - -"But when one has gone, how can we get the snow-shoes back?" asked -Ellen. - -"I don't know, I am sure," said Mrs. Linn. "I don't know what we shall -do." - -"Why did not father come with you?" asked Ellen, despondingly. - -"He was gone away," said her mother. "We waited for him a long time, but -he did not come, and so Hugh said that he would leave his team in the -village for the night, and come with me. But he went away some time ago, -and I don't know what can have become of him." - -While this consultation had been going on, the storm had continued to -rage around them in all its fury. The track behind the sleigh had been -wholly obliterated, the horse was half-buried, and the snow was fast -rising all around the sleigh and threatening before long to overwhelm -the party entirely. They were entirely at a loss to know what to do. So -they paused a moment in their perplexity, and during the pause, Ellen -thought that she heard another cry. - -"Hark!" said she. - -They all listened as well as the howling of the wind around them would -allow them to listen. It was certainly a distant shout that they heard. - -"Yes," said Ellen. - -"It must be Hugh," said her mother. - -Ellen raised the horn to her lips, and blew a long and loud blast, -turning the horn as she did so, in the direction of the voice. They all -listened after the sound of the horn had ceased, and heard a reply. - -"Yes," said Ellen, "it must be Hugh. I will go down to him on my -snow-shoes." - -"No," said Rodolphus, "you must not go and leave us here alone." - -"Yes," said Ellen, "I will go. I can give him the snow-shoes and then he -can go and get some help for us." - -Rodolphus declared that Ellen should not go, and began to scream and cry -in order to compel his mother to prevent her, but his mother said -nothing, and Ellen went away. She said, as she went, - -"I will blow the horn now and then, mother, and as long as you hear it, -you will know that I am safe." - -Ellen went toiling on down the road, stopping every few minutes to blow -her horn, and to listen to the responses of the voice. She soon found -that she was rapidly drawing near to the place whence the sound -proceeded. She perceived that the voice was that of a man. She had no -doubt that it was Hugh, and that he had lost his way, and was calling -for help. She still felt great anxiety, however, for she did not see, if -it should prove to be Hugh, what he could do with only one pair of -snow-shoes for four, to extricate such a party from their perilous -condition. She thought of her aunt, too, lying sick and alone upon her -couch, and of the distress and anxiety which she supposed the helpless -patient would feel, if she should wake up and find that both Martha and -Ellen had gone away, and left her, sick as she was, in absolute -solitude. - -She, however, pressed diligently forward, and at length found herself -drawing nearer and nearer to the voice. Presently she began to see a -dark mass lying helplessly in the snow just before her. - -"Hugh," said she, "are you here?" - -"I am here," replied the voice, "but it is not Hugh." - -"Why, Antonio, is it you?" said Ellen. She had recognized Antonio's -voice. "How came you to be here?" - -"How came _you_ to be here, is the question, I think?" rejoined Antonio. - -"I have got snow-shoes." said Ellen. "I heard cries and I came out to -see. My mother and Rodolphus are up the road a little way, in a sleigh, -and the snow is covering them over very fast. I'll blow my horn for -them." - -Here Ellen blew another long and loud blast with her horn, and -immediately afterward she heard the distant call of her mother and of -Rodolphus answering it together. - -"All right," said Antonio, "they answer. Now the first thing to do is -to get up to them. Give me the snow-shoes, and I think I can carry you -right along." - -"Oh, no," said Ellen, "I am too heavy." - -"Let us try," said Antonio. So saying he climbed up out of the snow, as -well as he could, and put on the snow-shoes. They were very easily put -on. Antonio found that the snow-shoes bore him up completely, but Ellen -had sunk down into the drift when she was deprived of them. Antonio, -however, soon raised her again, and took her in his arms. Enveloped as -she was in her cloak, she made a rather large looking load, though she -was not very heavy. Still it was difficult to carry even a light load, -walking with such shoes, on such a yielding surface, and in such a -storm. Antonio was obliged to stop very often to rest and to take -breath. At such times, Ellen would blow her horn, and listen for the -answer. Thus they gradually got back safely to the sleigh. - -As they had thus come up the hill, Antonio, in the intervals of his -conversation with Ellen, had determined on the course which he would -pursue. He knew that there was a snow-sled at Mr. Randon's house; that -is, a hand sled made light and with the shoes of the runners very broad -and flat. By means of this construction, the sled had, like the -snow-shoes, the property of not sinking much in the snow. Antonio -determined to go himself up to the house on the snow-shoes--leaving -Ellen with Rodolphus and her mother in the sleigh--and get this sled, -and he hoped, by means of it, to draw them all up safely one by one. The -poor horse, he thought, would have to be left in the drifts to die. - -Antonio's plan succeeded completely. He put Ellen under the buffalo -robes in the sleigh and covered her entirely in, except that he allowed -one little opening on one side for the horn, which he advised her to -blow from time to time, as it might possibly help Hugh to find his way -back to them. He then left the party in the sleigh, and was soon lost -from view. He went toiling up the hill to the house. He walked into the -yard. He groped his way to the barns and sheds, but the doors were all -blocked up with snow, so that he could not get them open. He, however, -contrived to climb up upon a roof, and by that means to get into a barn -window. He left his snow-shoes on the scaffold, and then groped his way -down in the dark to the place where Ellen had told him that the -snow-sled was kept. Every thing was in such perfect order that he met -with no difficulty on the way. He found the sled, and carrying it back -to the barn window, he contrived to heave it out there, throwing the -snow-shoes out after it. - -He followed himself, descending as he had ascended, by the roof of the -shed. As soon as he got into the road, he mounted upon his sled, and -guiding himself by the sound of the horn, which he heard from time to -time, and by the dark forms of the firs which grew upon the sides of the -road, he slid quite rapidly down to the sleigh. To his great relief and -joy he found that Hugh was there. - -It proved that Hugh had lost his way, and he would, perhaps, have -perished had he not heard the sound of the horn. The horn attracted his -attention just as he was about giving up in despair. He supposed that -the sound came from some farmer's house, where the people were, for some -reason or other, blowing a horn. He succeeded at last in making his way -to the place from which the sound proceeded, and was greatly astonished -to find himself back at the sleigh. - -Antonio took Hugh home first. Each took the snow-shoes by turns and drew -the other on the sled. When they reached the house, Antonio left Hugh -there, and returned himself, for the others. The second time he took -Rodolphus, the third time, Ellen. Their mother insisted on being left to -the last. By the time that the party were all safely conveyed to the -house, Hugh had got the barn-doors open, and had brought out a yoke of -oxen, with a lantern and shovels. He then took the snow-shoes from -Antonio, and putting them upon his own feet, he walked on, to mark the -way, while Antonio followed with the oxen. Antonio was, however, obliged -to go behind the oxen in driving them, so as to walk in the path which -they had broken. The snow was up to the sides of the oxen all the way, -and in some places they came to drifts so deep, that Antonio and Hugh -were obliged to shovel the snow away for a long time, before the oxen -could get through. At length, however, they reached the place where the -horse and sleigh had become foundered. The horse was nearly exhausted -with fatigue and cold. Hugh and Antonio trod down and shoveled away the -snow around him, and then unfastened the harness, so as to separate the -horse from the sleigh. They then turned back the shafts of the sleigh, -and fastened the oxen to them by a chain, turning the heads of the oxen -up the hill. Hugh got into the sleigh, to ride and drive the oxen. -Antonio walked behind, leading the horse. The road was now so broken, -that though the snow was very deep, and Antonio and the horse both sank -down very far into it, it was possible for them to get along. They -stopped two or three times to rest, and twice to shovel away the snow, -but, at last, they safely reached the house, and turning into the yard, -went directly to the barn. - -"Now," said Hugh, "I can take care of every thing here. You had better -go into the house and see if all is right there." - -So Antonio went into the house. Ellen came out to meet him at the -porch-door, weeping as if her heart would break. Antonio asked her what -was the matter. She said that her Aunt Anne was dead. - -Antonio tried to comfort Ellen as well as he could, but it was very hard -to comfort her. In the course of the evening, however, she was sometimes -tolerably composed, and at one such time, when she was sitting upon the -settle, Antonio took a seat by her side, and talked with her a little -while, about her going down to her mother in the storm. - -"I don't know," said he, "what _she_ will think of your having saved her -life by your courage and presence of mind; but you may depend, that I -shall not very soon forget your having saved _mine_." - - -II. DEATH. - -Rodolphus was very much shocked and overpowered at witnessing the scene -of anxiety and sorrow, into which he found himself ushered, when he -arrived at the house. He sat down for a time on Hugh's bench, in the -corner, by the fire, until he was warm. His mother then came and -undressed him and put him to bed in a sort of attic chamber over the -great room. - -Rodolphus was afraid to be left alone in the solitary chamber. The wind -howled mournfully among the trees of the neighboring forest, and the -snow clicked continually against the windows. Rodolphus was, however, -not afraid of the storm----nor was he afraid of robbers or of ghosts. In -fact, he did not know what he was afraid of. Still he was afraid. -Undutiful and disobedient boys are always afraid when they are left -alone. - -In fact, Rodolphus would have refused to go to bed altogether, had it -not been that his spirit was awed and subdued by the presence of death, -and by the strange situation in which he so suddenly found himself -placed. Notwithstanding this, however, he was upon the point of making -some resistance when his mother first came to him, to take him away, but -just then Antonio came into the room, and perceiving that there was -about to be some difficulty, he stopped and looked at Rodolphus, as if -to see what he was going to do. Rodolphus immediately submitted, and -allowed himself to be led away. He was more afraid of Antonio, than he -was even of being left alone in his chamber. - -The next morning when Rodolphus awoke he found that the storm was still -raging. He looked out the window, and perceived that the air was full of -driving snow, while upon the ground nothing was to be seen but vast and -shapeless masses of white. He rose, dressed himself, and came down -stairs. He found a great fire blazing in the fire-place, but every thing -was very still and solitary about the house. The body had been removed -to the bedroom, and was laid out there. The bedroom door was open. Hugh -and Antonio were out, trying to get into the barn. Ellen was walking -softly about the bedroom, putting away the things which had been used -during the sickness, but which were now needed no longer. Martha, who -had got home the evening before, while Ellen had been gone, and had -brought some of the neighbors with her, was busy preparing the -breakfast. Both she, however, and Ellen, and the others who were there, -moved about silently, and spoke, when they spoke at all, in a subdued -and gentle tone, as if they were afraid of disturbing the repose of the -dead. - -When the breakfast was ready, Martha went to call Hugh and Antonio and -all the others, to come to the table. They all came except Ellen. She -remained in the bedroom to watch with the body of her aunt. Her heart -was full of trouble. As she sat by her aunt's bed-side, she thought -bitterly of her loss, and she looked forward with many anxious -forebodings to the future. She felt as if her happiness was gone -forever. She loved her father and mother, it was true; but her aunt had -seemed to be her best and truest friend; and now that her aunt was gone -from her forever, she felt alone and desolate. - -After breakfast Antonio went away upon the snow-shoes to see if he could -obtain some assistance from the neighbors, in relation to the funeral. -The storm, he said, appeared to have abated. The clouds looked thin, and -at one time he could almost see the sun. In about two hours he returned, -bringing with him two or three men, all upon snow-shoes; for the snow -which had fallen was so deep that any other mode of traveling was -impossible. - -The preparations for the funeral went on during the day. The third day -the coffin came. It was brought upon a snow-sled, which was drawn by two -men upon snow-shoes. The storm had not yet entirely abated. The wind was -high, and the air was growing intensely cold. This was to be expected. -It is usually much colder in such cases after the storm is over, than -while the snow continues to fall. - -They dug the grave at some little distance from the house, under the -margin of a wood where there was a little shelter. In digging it they -had first to go down through the deep snow, and then with pick-axes and -iron bars to dig into the frozen ground. When the grave was ready they -put boards over it, to prevent its being filled up again with the snow. - -The funeral took place just at sunset. Hugh had broken out a road to the -place by means of the oxen. The men placed the coffin on a sled; it had -been arranged that two of the neighbors were to draw it. They said at -first that none but men could go to the grave, but Ellen said that she -_must_ go. - -"I can walk very well," said she, "I know, if you can let me have a pair -of the snow-shoes. I _must_ go. My aunt loved me and always took care of -me, and I must keep with her till the very last." - -When the men found how desirous she was to go, they said that they could -take another sled and draw her. They said that if she would like to take -Rodolphus with her, they could draw him, too; but Rodolphus said, that -he did not wish to go. - -When all was ready, the company assembled in the great room, and Antonio -read a prayer which Ellen found in a prayer-book that had belonged to -her Aunt Anne. It was a prayer suitable to a funeral occasion. When the -prayer had been read, the funeral procession moved mournfully from the -door. - -The coffin went first, covered as it lay upon the sled with a black -cloak for a pall, and drawn by two men. The other sled followed, drawn -also by two men. Ellen was seated upon the second sled, wrapped in -buffalo robes. The road had been broken out, so as to be passable, but -the snow was very deep, and the men made their way with great -difficulty through it. They stopped once or twice on the way to rest. - -[Illustration: THE FUNERAL.] - -When they arrived at the grave, they found that the sun was shining -pleasantly upon the spot, and the trees sheltered it from the wind. -Still it seemed to Ellen, as she looked down into the deep pit from the -top of the snow which surrounded it, that it was a very cold grave. The -men let the coffin down, and then two of them remained to fill the earth -in again, while Hugh and Antonio drew Ellen home. - -Distressed and unhappy as Ellen was at the death of her aunt, there was -another blow still to come upon her. She found when she reached the -house on her return from the funeral, that the whole family were in a -state of consternation and terror at the tidings which had arrived from -the village, that her father had perished in the storm. He had been -across the river when the storm came on. In attempting to return, his -horse had become exhausted in the snow, and he was forced to abandon him -and attempt to find his way home alone. He lost his way and wandered -about till his strength failed, and then, benumbed with the cold, and -wearied with the hopeless toil, he sank down into a drift, and fell -asleep. Of course, he never woke again. He was found when the storm was -over, by means of a small dark spot formed by a part of his shoulder, -which projected above the surface of the snow. - -It was thus that Rodolphus lost his father. - - -III.--CONSEQUENCES OF BAD TRAINING. - -One pleasant morning in the month of June, during the next summer after -the great storm, Rodolphus was drawing his sister Annie about the yard -in a little green cart which her sister Ellen kept for her. There was a -great elm-tree in the middle of the yard, with a path leading all around -it. Rodolphus was going round and round this tree. Annie was playing -that Rodolphus was her horse, and she had reins to drive him by. She -also had a little whip to whip him with when he did not go fast enough. - -Presently Ellen came to the door. She had a small hammer in one hand, -and a box containing some small nails and tags of leather in the other. -She was going to train up a climbing rose, which had been planted by the -side of the door. - -Ellen told Rodolphus that she thought it was time for him to get ready -to go to school. - -"Oh, no," said Rodolphus, "it is not time yet;" so he went prancing and -galloping on around the great tree. - -A moment afterward his mother came to the door. - -"Rodolphus," said she, "it is time for you to go to school." - -"Oh no, mother, not yet," said Rodolphus. - -"Yes," said his mother, "it is quite time. Come in directly." - -"Well, mother," said Rodolphus, "I will." - -Mrs. Linn stopped a moment to look at Ellen's rose-tree, and to say "How -pretty it looks climbing up here by the door;" and then she went in. -Rodolphus continued to run round the yard. Presently he came prancing up -to the door, and stopped to see what Ellen was doing. - -"Rodolphus," said Ellen, "you ought to obey mother. She said that you -must go to school." - -"Oh, pretty soon," said Rodolphus. "She is not in any hurry." - -"Yes, Rodolphus," said Annie, in a very positive manner. "You ought to -obey my mother. You must go to school." - -So saying, Annie began to move as if she were going to get out of the -cart, but Rodolphus perceiving this, immediately began to draw the cart -along, and thus prevented her. She could not get out while the cart was -going. - -Rodolphus continued to run about for some time longer. Annie begged of -him to stop and let her get out, but he would not. At length his mother -came to the door again, and renewed her commands. She said that unless -he stopped playing with the cart, and went to school immediately, she -should certainly punish him. - -"Why, mother," said Rodolphus, "it is not late. Besides, I am going to -draw Annie to school in the cart, and so we shall go very quick." - -"No," said his mother, "you must not take the cart to school. If you -do, it will come to some damage." - -"Oh, no," said Rodolphus. "Go and get me Annie's books, and I will start -off directly." - -His mother went into the house and brought out a spelling-book, and put -it down on the step of the door. She called out at the same time to -Rodolphus, who was at that time near the great tree, telling him that -there was the book, and that he must leave the cart, and take Annie and -the book, and go directly. - -The reason why Mrs. Linn was so solicitous for the safety of the cart, -was because it was Ellen's cart, and she knew that Ellen prized it very -highly. The way that Ellen came to have such a cart was this: - -One day she was walking alone near the back fence of the garden, at a -place where the fence was very high and close, when she heard the voices -of some children on the other side, in a little green lane, where -children often used to play. Ellen thought she heard Rodolphus's voice -among the others, and there appeared to be some difficulty, as in fact -there usually was, where Rodolphus's voice could be heard. So Ellen -climbed upon a sort of trellis, which had been made there against the -fence, in order that she might look over and see what was the matter. - -She found that there were two girls there with a small cart, and that -Rodolphus had got into the cart, and was insisting that the girls should -draw him along. The girls looked troubled and distressed, and were not -trying to draw. - -"Pull," said Rodolphus. "Pull away, hearty." - -"No," said the girls----"we can't pull. It is too heavy----besides, you -will break down our cart." - -"Rodolphus!" said Ellen. - -Rodolphus turned his head, and saw his sister looking down upon him from -the top of the fence. - -"Ellen," said he, "is that you?" - -"Yes," said Ellen, "I would not trouble those poor girls. Let them have -their cart." - -"Why, they could pull me just as well as not," said Rodolphus, "if they -would only try. Come, girls," he added, "give one good pull, and then I -will get out." - -The girls hesitated a moment, being obviously afraid that the cart would -be broken. They looked up to Ellen, as if they hoped that in some way or -other she could help them, but Ellen knew not what to do. So they -concluded to submit to Rodolphus's terms. They made a desperate effort -to draw the cart along a few steps, but the result which they had feared -was realized. The cart went on, staggering, as it were, under its heavy -burden, for a short space, and then a crack was heard, and one side of -it sank suddenly down to the ground. The axletree had broken, close to -the wheel. - -The children seemed greatly distressed at this accident. Rodolphus got -out of the cart, and looked at the fracture----appearing perplexed in -his turn, and not knowing what to say. The oldest girl took up the -wheel, and began to examine the fracture with a very sorrowful -countenance, while the youngest looked on, the picture of grief and -despair. - -"Now, Mary," said the youngest child, in a very desponding tone, "I -don't believe we can sell our cart at all." - -"Do you wish to sell it?" asked Ellen. - -"Yes," said Mary. "Father said that we might sell it, if we could find -any body that would buy it; but now it is broken, I don't suppose that -any body will." - -"How much do you ask for it?" said Ellen. - -"A quarter of a dollar," said Mary. - -"Well," replied Ellen, "perhaps _I_ will buy it. If you will bring it -round to our house this evening after tea, I will get Antonio to look at -it and see if it is worth a quarter of a dollar; or, rather, if it _was_ -worth a quarter of a dollar before it was broken----for that will make -no difference; and if he says it was, perhaps I may buy it." - -"Well," said Mary, "we will." - -"Is Beechnut coming to our house this evening?" asked Rodolphus. - -"Yes," said Ellen. - -The girls seemed much relieved of their distress at hearing this. Mary -took up the broken wheel and put it into the cart, saying at the same -time, - -"Come, Ally, let us carry it home." - -Mary stooped down to take hold of one side of the cart, while her sister -took hold of the other, and so they lifted it up. - -"Rodolphus," said Ellen, "I think you had better help them carry the -cart home." - -"Yes," said Rodolphus, "I will." - -So Rodolphus took the wheel out of the cart and gave it to Mary to -carry, and then lifting up the cart bodily, he put it upside down upon -his head, as if it were a cap, and then began to run after the girls -with it. They fled, filling the air with shouts of laughter, and thus -the three went off together, all in high glee. - -The end of it was, that Ellen bought the cart, and Antonio made a new -axletree for it, and put it, in all respects, in complete repair. He -also painted it beautifully inside and out, making it look better than -when it was new. Ellen's motive in getting the cart was chiefly to -promote Annie's amusement, but still she valued it herself, very highly. - -She used often to lend it to Rodolphus when he was playing with Annie in -the yard, and Rodolphus would draw his sister about in it. Ellen always -gave him many cautions not to go too fast, and was very careful never to -allow him to put any thing inside that would bruise or soil it. There -was a little seat inside for Annie to sit upon, with a box beneath it -where a small basket of provisions could be stored, in case of an -excursion. Beechnut had promised, too, to make Annie a whip, and Ellen -was going to make her a pair of reins, so that when Rodolphus was -drawing her she might play drive. - -But to return to the story. - -Rodolphus drew the cart up to the door, and taking up the book, he put -it upon Annie's lap and then began to move away again. - -"Stop," said Annie; "stop, and let me get out." - -"No," said Rodolphus, "I am going to draw you to school." - -"No," said Annie, "my mother said that you must not take my cart to -school." - -"Oh, she won't care," said Rodolphus, still going. - -"But she said that you must _not_," persisted Annie. - -"That was because she thought the cart would come to some damage," said -Rodolphus. "But it will not come to any damage. I shall bring it home -all safe at noon, and then she won't care." - -By this time Rodolphus had got out into the road. Annie looked anxious -and distressed, but as Rodolphus walked rapidly on, she was entirely -helpless, and could do nothing but sit still, though she urged Rodolphus -to stop, again and again, until at last, finding that it did no good, -she gave up in despair, and resigned herself to her fate. - -They proceeded in this way until they had got pretty near the village, -when, as they were going along the road, which at this place led near -the margin of the river, just below the bridge and mill, Rodolphus saw -two boys getting into a boat. He asked them where they were going; they -said that they were going a-fishing. - -[Illustration: THE BOYS AND THE BOAT.] - -"I mean to go too," said Rodolphus, looking toward Annie. - -"No," said Annie, "you must not go, for then what shall I do with my -cart?" - -"Oh, you can draw your cart along to school yourself, very well," said -Rodolphus, and so saying, he lifted Annie hastily and roughly out of the -cart, calling out at the same time to the boys to wait a minute for him. -He put the handle, which was at the end of the tongue of the cart, into -Annie's hand, and then ran down to the water; and thus, almost before -Annie had time to recover from her astonishment, she found herself left -alone in the road, while the boat, with Rodolphus and the other boys in -it, began slowly to recede from the shore. - -Annie began to cry. Rodolphus called out to her in a rough voice to go -along to school. So she began to walk slowly along, drawing the cart -wearily after her. - -On her way home from school that day, when she came to the place in the -road where Rodolphus had left her in the morning, she found him waiting -there for her. She was coming without the cart. Rodolphus asked her what -she had done with it. She said that she had left it at school. The -teacher had told her that it was too heavy for her to draw, and had put -it in a corner, to wait till Rodolphus came. Rodolphus then told Annie -to sit down upon a stone by the side of the road till he came back, and -then began to run toward the school-house. In a short time he came back -bringing the cart. He put Annie into it and went toward home. - -Annie asked him where he had been all the day--but he did not answer. He -seemed discontented and uneasy, and preserved a moody silence all the -way home, except that once he turned and charged Annie not to tell his -mother or Ellen that he had not been at school that day. When he reached -home, he left the cart at the door, and stepping into the entry he began -to call out aloud, - -"Mother! Mother!" - -Ellen came to the door and said in a gentle voice, - -"Mother can't come now, Rolfy; she is busy." - -"But I want to see her a minute," said he. "Mother! Mother!" - -A moment afterward his mother appeared at her bedroom window. - -"What do you want, Rolfy?" said she. - -Rodolphus said nothing, but stood still, pointing to the cart, with a -triumphant air. - -"What?" said his mother. - -"See!" said Rodolphus. - -"What is it?" said she. - -"The cart," said Rodolphus, "all safe." - -"Well," said his mother, "what then?" - -"Why, you said," replied Rodolphus, "that if I took it to school, it -would come to some damage." - -"Well, it _might_ have come to some damage," said she, "you know. And -you ought not to have taken it." - -So saying his mother went away from the window. - - * * * * * - -Rodolphus was, in fact, a source of continual trial and trouble to his -mother, though she did not know one half of his evil deeds. He concealed -them from her very easily, for she never made a careful inquiry into his -conduct when he was out of her sight. He played truant continually, -going off to play with idle boys. He fell into bad company, and formed -many evil habits. He was continually getting into mischief among the -neighbors. They complained of him sometimes, to his mother, but this did -no good. Generally, she would not believe any thing that they said -against him, and whenever any of his evil deeds were fully proved to -her, she made so many excuses for him, and looked upon his misconduct -with so indulgent a view, that she exercised no restraint upon him -whatever. - -He wanted more money than his mother could furnish him with, and he -gradually fell into dishonest means of obtaining it. His sister Ellen -had some poultry, and once a-week she used to commission him to carry -the eggs into the village for sale. Ellen used to go out every morning -to get the eggs from her nests, but Rodolphus would often go out before -her, and take a part of the eggs and hide them. These he would consider -his own, and so when he carried her supply to market, he would secretly -add to them those he had thus purloined, so as to get more money for the -eggs than he returned to her. He used to get the apples, too, from the -neighbors' orchards, and once when he was in a store in a village, and -saw a little money upon the counter, which a girl had laid down there to -pay for some thread, and which the store-keeper had forgotten to put -away, Rodolphus, watching his opportunity, slipped it into his pocket -and went away with it. He felt very guilty after he had done this, for -several days; but still he kept the money. - -Ellen was the only person who had any influence over Rodolphus, and she -had not a great deal. She was, however, herself a great help and a great -source of comfort to her mother. As soon as she came home, she began in -a very modest and unassuming manner, to introduce the system and order -which had prevailed in her aunt's household, into that of her mother. -She began with Annie's and Rodolphus' playthings, which, when she first -came home, were scattered all over the house in disorder and confusion. -She collected these playthings all together, repaired the books which -were damaged, mended the broken toys, and arranged them all neatly upon -a shelf which her mother allowed her to use for the purpose. Then she -gradually put the rooms in the house in order, one after another. She -drove up nails in convenient places, to hang implements and utensils -upon. She induced Rodolphus to put the yard and the grounds about the -house in order. Every useless thing that would burn, was put upon the -wood-pile, and all other rubbish cleared away. She planted the seeds of -climbing plants about the gateways, and near the windows of the house, -and in one corner she made a very pretty trellis, by tying poles -together with a kind of very flexible wire called binding wire. Antonio -showed her how to do it. In fact, by means of what Ellen did, the house -was in a very few months entirely transformed, and became one of the -neatest and pleasantest cottages in all the town; and she and her mother -and Annie would have lived together very happily in it, had it not been -for the anxiety and trouble which Rodolphus gave them. - -One day Antonio, who often came to Mrs. Linn's to see if there was any -thing he could do for the family, and who had often talked with -Rodolphus about the evil of his ways, drove up to the gate in a wagon, -and proposed to Rodolphus to go and take a ride with him. - -"Yes," said Rodolphus, "I will go." - -"Go and ask your mother first," said Antonio. - -"Oh, she will let me go, I know," said Rodolphus, coming at the same -time toward the wagon. - -"Go and ask her," said Antonio. - -So Rodolphus went and asked his mother, and she gave him leave. He then -ran back to the wagon, climbed up into it, and took his seat by the side -of Antonio. - -In the course of this ride, Antonio had a long and plain conversation -with Rodolphus about his evil course of life, and the sorrows and -sufferings to which it would lead him, and in which it would involve his -mother and sister, if he went on as he had begun. He told him, however, -that if on the other hand he would make a change, if he would obey his -mother, and go regularly to school, and keep away from bad company, and -become industrious and honest, he would grow up to be a useful and -respectable man, and would make himself and all around him happy. - -Rodolphus heard what Antonio said, patiently and attentively through to -the end, and then said, - -"Yes, Beechnut, my sister Ellen told me that very same thing, and I have -tried to be a better boy, very hard indeed, but I can't." - -However, notwithstanding this, Rodolphus promised Antonio that he would -try once more, and for several days after this conversation he was a -much better boy. He went to school regularly and was more willing to -help his mother and Ellen about the house. This lasted for about a week. - -At the end of that time he was one evening working with Ellen in the -garden, about sunset, when he heard a sound near him by a wall. There -was an old stone wall on that side of the garden, with bushes which grew -upon the outside rising above it. Rodolphus looked up when he heard the -noise, and saw a boy's head just over the wall at an opening among the -bushes. The boy held his finger to his lips in token of silence and -secrecy, pointing very quickly to Ellen, whose face at that instant was -turned the other way, so that she did not see him; he then dropped down -behind the wall out of sight again. - -Rodolphus knew that the boy wished to speak to him, and that he was -prevented from doing so because Ellen was there. - -Accordingly a moment afterward, Rodolphus told Ellen that she had better -go in, and that he would finish the rest of the work and come in -presently with the tools. Ellen thanked Rodolphus for what she supposed -was his disinterested kindness, and went in. - -As soon as Rodolphus was alone, the boy's head appeared above the wall -again. - -"She's gone at last," said he. "I thought she never _would_ go." The boy -then seemed to rise higher, as if he were stepping up upon a stone -outside the wall. He held out his hand toward Rodolphus, saying, "See -there!" - -Rodolphus looked, and saw that he had three half dollars in his hand. - -"Where did you get that money?" said Rodolphus. - -"Ah!" said the boy, winking, and looking very mysterious, "don't you -wish you knew! You'd like to find the nest that has such eggs as those -in it, wouldn't you? Well, I'll tell you all about it to-night. Come out -here after nine o'clock. I will be here to meet you. We have got plenty -of money and we're going to have a good time." - -Soon after this Rodolphus carried his tools to the shed, and went in to -his supper. About eight o'clock it became dark, and at half-past eight, -Rodolphus said that he felt rather tired and he believed that he would -go to bed. Feeling guilty and self-condemned as he did, he appeared -absent-minded and dejected, and Ellen was anxious about him. She was -afraid that he was going to be sick. She lighted the lamp for him, and -went up with him to his room and did all that she could to make him -comfortable. At length she bade him good-night and went away. - -The place where Rodolphus slept was in a little corner of an attic by a -great chimney. The place had been partitioned off, and there was a door -leading into it. This door had a hasp on the inside. There was also a -small window which opened out upon the roof of a shed. It was a pretty -long step from the window down to the roof of the shed, but yet -Rodolphus had often got down there, although his mother had repeatedly -forbidden him ever to do so. - -[Illustration: THE EVASION.] - -As soon as Ellen was gone, Rodolphus fastened the door and then waited a -little while till all was still. Then he opened the window very gently -and crept out. He put out his light the last thing before he got out of -the window, and crept down upon the roof of the shed. He stopped here to -listen. All was still. He walked softly, with his shoes in his hand, -down to the lower edge of the roof, and there he got down to the ground -by means of a fence which joined the shed at one corner there. - -Rodolphus found the boys waiting for him beyond the garden wall. He went -away with them and spent the night in carousals and wickedness, under a -barn in a solitary place. About one o'clock he came back to the house. -He climbed up the fence and got upon the shed. He crept along the shed -softly, with his shoes in his hand as before, and got into his window. -When in, he shut down the window, undressed himself, and went to bed. - -And this was the end of all Rodolphus's resolutions to reform. - - -IV. CRIME. - -Rodolphus went on in the evil way which we described, for some time, and -at length he became so disorderly in his conduct and so troublesome, and -caused his mother so much anxiety and care, that she finally concluded -to follow the advice which all the neighbors had very frequently given -her, and bind the boy out to some master to learn a trade. As soon as -she had decided upon this course, she asked the assistance of Mr. -Randon, to find a good place. Mr. Randon made a great many inquiries but -he could not find any place that would do, in Franconia; all the persons -to whom he applied in the village declined taking Rodolphus, giving -various reasons for their refusals. Some did not want any new -apprentice, some had other boys in view that they were going to apply -to. Some said that Rodolphus was too old, others that he was too young. -Mr. Randon thought that the real reason probably was, in a great many of -these cases, that the men did not like Rodolphus's character. In fact, -one man to whom he made application, after listening attentively to Mr. -Randon, until he came to mention the name of the boy, said, - -"What! Rodolphus Linn. Is it Rodolphus Linn?" - -"Yes," said Mr. Randon. - -"Hoh!" said the man. "I would not have Rodolphus Linn in my shop for a -hundred dollars a year." - -At last, however, Mr. Randon found in another town, about twenty-five -miles from Franconia, a man who kept a livery stable, that said he -wanted a boy. This man's name was Kerber. Mr. Kerber said that if -Rodolphus was a stout and able-bodied boy, he would take him. Mr. Randon -said that Rodolphus was stout enough, but he frankly told Mr. Kerber -that the boy was rather rude and unmanageable. "I'll take care of that," -said Mr. Kerber. "All I want is to have him _able_ to do his duty. If he -is only able to do it, you need not fear but that I'll find ways and -means of seeing that it is done." - -Mr. Randon thought from this conversation, and from other indications, -that Mr. Kerber was a very harsh man, and he thought that Rodolphus -might be likely to have a hard time if apprenticed to him. He concluded, -therefore, that before making his report to Mrs. Linn, he would make -some further inquiry. He found at last another man in the same town with -Mr. Kerber, who was willing to take Rodolphus. This man was a carpenter. -The carpenter was a man of quiet and gentle spirit, and he bore a most -excellent character among his neighbors. At first, the carpenter was -unwilling to take Rodolphus when he heard what his character was, but -when Mr. Randon told him about the circumstances of the family, and -explained to him that it would be a deed of great benevolence to save -the boy from ruin, the carpenter said he would take him for three months -upon trial, and then if he found that he should probably succeed in -making him a good boy, he would take him regularly as his apprentice. So -Mr. Randon went back to report the result of his inquiries to -Rodolphus's mother. - -Mrs. Linn was very anxious to have Rodolphus go to the carpenter's, but -Rodolphus himself insisted on going to Mr. Kerber's. The reason why he -wished to go there was, because Mr. Kerber kept a stable and horses. He -supposed that his chief business would be to tend the horses, and to -ride about. This would be much better, he thought, than to work hard all -day with planes, and saws, and chisels. - -Ellen joined her mother in begging Rodolphus to go to the carpenter's, -but he could not be persuaded to consent, and so it was finally settled -that he should be bound apprentice to Mr. Kerber. Mrs. Linn, however, -made an express stipulation that while Rodolphus remained at Mr. -Kerber's he was never on any account to be whipped. If he neglected his -duty or behaved badly, Mr. Kerber was to find out some other way to -punish him beside whipping. - -Mr. Kerber made no objection to this arrangement. He said to Mr. Randon, -when Mr. Randon proposed this condition to him, that he would make any -agreement of that kind that his mother desired. "I have learned," said -he, "that there are various contrivances for breaking refractory colts -besides silk snappers." - -When a boy is bound apprentice to a master, a certain paper is executed -between the master on the one part, and the parent or guardian of the -boy on the other, which is called the Indentures. The indentures specify -the name and age of the boy, and state the time for which he is bound to -the master. During that time the boy is bound to work for the master, -and to obey his orders. The master is bound to provide food and clothing -for the boy, and to teach him the trade. He has a right to compel the -boy to attend industriously to his work, and to punish him for any -idleness, or disobedience, or insubordination that he may be guilty of. -In a word, the master acquires, for the time that the apprenticeship -continues, the same rights that the father, if the boy has a father, -possessed before. - -According to this custom indentures of apprenticeship were regularly -drawn up, binding Rodolphus to Mr. Kerber till he was twenty-one years -of age. He was then nearly twelve. The indentures were signed, and -Rodolphus went to live with his new master. - -He, however, soon began to have a pretty hard life of it. He found that -his business was not to ride the horses about, but to perform the most -disagreeable and servile work in the stable. He could not even ride the -horses to water, for there was a great trough in one corner of the -stable with a stream of water always running into it, and the horses -were all watered there. Rodolphus was employed in harnessing and -unharnessing the horses, and rubbing them down when they came in; and in -pitching down hay, and measuring out oats and corn for them. He had to -work also a great deal at the house, splitting wood and carrying it in, -and in bringing water for the washing. He was kept hard at work all the -time, except in the evening, when he was generally allowed to roam about -the streets wherever he pleased. - -Rodolphus did not have much open difficulty with Mr. Kerber, for he -found out very soon that it was a very dangerous business to disobey -him. The first lesson that he had on that subject was as follows: - -One afternoon when he had been at work at the house, and had had some -difficulty with Mrs. Kerber, he undertook to make her agree to some of -his demands by threatening, as he had been accustomed to do with his -mother, that if she did not let him do what he wished, he would go and -jump into the pond. This pond was a small mill pond which came up to the -foot of Mr. Kerber's garden, where the garden was bounded by a high -wall. Mrs. Kerber took no notice of this threat at the time, but when -her husband came home she told him about it at the supper table. - -"Ah," said Mr. Kerber, when his wife had finished her statement; "he -threatened to drown himself, then? I am afraid he does not know exactly -what drowning is. I will enlighten him a little upon the subject after -supper." - -Accordingly, after supper, Mr. Kerber commanded Rodolphus to follow -him. Mr. Kerber led the way down to the bottom of the garden, and there -he tied a rope round Rodolphus's waist, and threw him off into the -water, and kept him there until he was half strangled. He would pull him -up a moment to recover his breath, and then plunge him in again and -again, until the poor boy was half dead with exhaustion and terror. -Then, pulling him out upon the bank, he left him to come to himself, and -to return to the house at his leisure. - -Rodolphus, after this, was very careful not to come into any open -collision with Mr. Kerber, or with his wife, but this kind of severity -did him, after all, no real good. When a boy has grown to such an age as -that of Rodolphus, in habits of self-indulgence, disobedience, and -insubordination, it is almost impossible to save him by any means -whatever----but heartless severity like this only makes him worse. -Rodolphus hated his master, and he determined to do as little for him as -he possibly could. Mr. Kerber, accordingly, was continually finding -fault with his apprentice for his idleness and his neglect of duty, and -he used often to punish him by putting him in what he called his -_prison_. - -This prison was a stall in one corner of the stable, near a little room -which Mr. Kerber used for his office and counting-room. The stall had -been boarded up in front, some years before, and used to shut up a small -colt in. It was half full of boxes and barrels, and there was a heap of -straw in one corner of it. There was a door in front, with a great -wooden button outside. When Mr. Kerber got out of patience with -Rodolphus, he used to put him into this old colt-pen and button him in, -and sometimes keep him there without any thing to eat, till he was half -starved. At one time Mr. Kerber kept him there all night. - -After the first half dozen times that Rodolphus was shut up there, he -did not suffer from hunger, for he made an arrangement with another -stable boy, older than himself, to supply him with food at such times. -The stable boy would get bread from the house by stealth, when Rodolphus -was in his prison, and bring it out to the stable in his pocket. Then, -watching his opportunity, when Mr. Kerber was not looking, he would -throw it over to Rodolphus. Rodolphus was thus saved from suffering much -through hunger, but yet he would always in such cases, when he was -finally let out, _pretend_ to be half starved, in order to prevent Mr. -Kerber's suspecting that he had been stealthily supplied with food. - -The prison, as Mr. Kerber called it, was adjoining the stable office, -which was a very small room, partitioned off from the stable itself. -This office had two doors, one on each side of it. One door led out into -the stable, and was the one ordinarily used. The other led to a shed at -one side of the stable, where the wood was kept for the office fire, -which was made in a small stove that stood in one corner of the office. -There was a desk in another corner of the office, and in this desk Mr. -Kerber kept his papers and his money. - -One day when Rodolphus was shut up in his prison, after having been -there several hours, he became very tired of having nothing to do, and -so, to amuse himself, he took his knife out from his pocket and began to -cut into the partition which separated the colt-pen from the office. The -partition was made of boards, and as Rodolphus's knife was pretty sharp, -he could cut into it quite easily. He heard voices in the office, and he -thought that if he should cut a small hole quite through the partition -he could hear what the men were saying, and see what they were doing. So -he cut away very diligently for half an hour, working very slowly and -carefully all the time, so as not to make a noise. - -At last the light began to shine through. Then Rodolphus worked more -carefully than ever. He, however, soon had a small hole opened, and -putting his eye close to it, he could see a whip hanging up against the -opposite wall of the office. Rodolphus gradually enlarged his hole, -until he could see more. He made the hole very large on the side toward -his prison, and yet kept it very small toward the office, and by this -means he could change the position of his eye and so see almost all over -the office, without, however, having made the opening large enough to -attract attention on the inside. - -Rodolphus saw Mr. Kerber and another man sitting by the desk. It was -summer, and there was no fire in the stove. There were a great many -whips hanging up on one side of the room, and a hammer, together with an -instrument called a nut-wrench, on a shelf over the desk. The door -leading out into the shed was fastened with a hasp. Rodolphus, as he -looked at it, thought that it would be easy for a thief, if he wished to -break into the office, to go into the shed and bore into the door of the -office just above the hasp, and then by putting in a slender iron rod, -the hasp might be lifted up out of the staple, and the door opened. - -Rodolphus listened to the conversation between Mr. Kerber and his -visitor, but he could not understand it very well. It was all about -business. At last the man took a large leather purse out of his pocket, -and prepared to pay Mr. Kerber some money. Mr. Kerber unlocked his desk. -The man counted out the money upon a small table which was there. Mr. -Kerber counted it after him, and then took from his desk a small box, -made of iron, which he called his strong box. He unlocked the strong box -with a key that he took from his pocket, and put the money into it. He -then locked the strong box and put it back into the desk, and finally -shut down the lid of the desk, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. - -Mr. Kerber kept Rodolphus confined in his prison much longer than usual -that day, so long, in fact, that Rodolphus became at last very impatient -and very angry. At length, however, Mr. Kerber let him out, and sent him -home to supper. - -That evening about nine o'clock, as Rodolphus was talking with some of -the bad boys with whom he was accustomed to spend his evenings, and -telling them how he hated his tyrannical and cruel master, he said, -among other things, that he wished he knew some thief or robber. The -boys asked him why. - -"Why, I would tell him," said Rodolphus, "how he might rob old Kerber, -and get as much money as he wanted." - -Among the boys who were with Rodolphus at this time, was one named -Gilpin. Gilpin was a very bad boy indeed, and considerably older than -Rodolphus. He was about fourteen years old. When Gilpin heard Rodolphus -say this, he gave him a little jog with his elbow, as an intimation not -to say any thing more. Very soon Gilpin took Rodolphus away, and walked -on with him alone, along a wall which extended down toward the water -from the place where the boys had been playing. As soon as he had drawn -Rodolphus away from the other boys, he asked him what he meant by what -he had said about a good chance to get some money. So Rodolphus -explained to Gilpin how his master had shut him up in the stall, and how -he had cut a hole through the partition, and what he had seen in the -office. He also explained to him how the back door of the little office -was fastened by a hasp, which it would be easy to open by boring a hole -through the door, if the robber only had a bit and a bit-stock. - -"Oh, we can get a bit and bit-stock, easily enough," said Gilpin. - -"Well," said Rodolphus, "shall we do it?" - -"Certainly," said Gilpin, "why not we as well as any body else. I want -money too much to leave any good chance for getting it to other people. -You and I will get it, and go shares." - -"No," said Rodolphus, "I don't dare to. And, besides, if we should get -into the office, we could not open the desk. He keeps the desk locked." - -"We can pry it open with a chisel," said Gilpin, "as easy as a man would -open on oyster." - -"But then we can't open the strong box," said Rodolphus. "The strong box -is made of iron." - -"We'll carry away the strong box and all," said Gilpin, "and get it open -at our leisure afterward." - -Rodolphus was at first strongly disinclined to enter into this plot, and -it was in fact several days before he concluded to join in it. At -length, however, he consented, and immediately commenced aiding Gilpin -in making the necessary preparations. He found a bit and bit-stock in an -old shop belonging to Mr. Kerber, near his house, and also a chisel, -which Gilpin said would do for forcing open the desk. There was another -boy almost as old as Gilpin, who joined in the plan. He was a coarse and -rough boy, and was generally called Griff. His real name was -Christopher. - -Gilpin and Griff gave Rodolphus a very large share of the work of making -the necessary preparations for the theft. Their plan was to make the -attempt on Saturday night They thought that by this means a whole day -would intervene before the discovery would be made that the money was -gone, since Mr. Kerber would not be likely to go to his office on -Sunday. They would thus, they thought, have ample time to take all the -necessary means for concealing their booty. Rodolphus was to go to bed -as usual, and then to get up about ten o'clock, and come out of his -window, over the roofs, as he used to do at home, and as he had very -often done since he came to Mr. Kerber's. The bit and bit-stock, and the -chisel were to be all ready in the shed, beforehand. Rodolphus was to -carry them there some time in the course of the afternoon. On descending -from the roofs, Rodolphus was to go to meet the other boys at a certain -corn-barn, which belonged to a house which had once been a farm-house in -the village. - -A corn-barn is a small square building, standing upon high posts at the -four corners. These posts are usually about four or five feet high. The -building is raised in this manner above the ground, to prevent mice and -other animals from getting into it and eating the corn. - -The corn-barn, however, at which the boys were to meet, was not now used -for the storage of grain, but as a sort of lumber-room for a tavern that -stood near by. It was behind the tavern, and almost out of sight of it, -at the end of a narrow lane. It was in a very secluded position. The -space beneath the building where the posts were, had been boarded up on -three sides, and there were various old boxes and barrels underneath it. -Rodolphus and the other bad boys of the village had often used this -place as a rendezvous, and had carried there the various things which -they had pilfered from time to time; and in summer nights they would -often meet there and stay half the night, spending the time in eating -and drinking, and in gambling with cards or coppers, and in other wicked -amusements. There was no floor but the ground, but the boys had carried -straw into the place, and spread it down where they were accustomed to -sit and lie, and this made the place very comfortable. - -The boys were to meet at this place at ten o'clock. Griff was to bring a -dark lantern. This lantern was one which the boys had made themselves. -It was formed of a round block of wood for the base, with a hole or -socket in the middle of it, for the admission of the end of the candle. -Around this block there had been rolled a strip of pasteboard, so as to -make of it a sort of round box, with a wooden bottom and no top. The -pasteboard was kept in its place by a string, which was wound several -times around it. There was a long hole cut in the pasteboard on one -side, for the light to shine out of. There was another pasteboard roll -which went over the whole, and closed this opening when the boys wanted -the lantern to be perfectly dark. - -The boys met at the place of rendezvous at the time appointed. They then -proceeded to the stable. They got into the shed, and there struck a -light, and lighted a short candle which one of the boys had in his -pocket. Rodolphus held this candle, while Gilpin, who was taller and -stronger than either of the other boys, bored the hole in the door, in -the place which Rodolphus indicated. When the hole was bored, the boys -inserted an iron rod into it, and running this rod under the hasp, they -pried the hasp up and unfastened the door. They opened the door, and -then, to their great joy, found themselves all safe in the office. - -[Illustration: THUS] - -They put the dark lantern down upon the table, and covered it with its -screen, and then listened, perfectly whist, a minute or two, to be sure -that nobody was coming. - -"You go and watch at the shed-door," said Gilpin to Rodolphus, "while we -open the desk." - -So Rodolphus went to the shed-door. He peeped out, and looked up and -down the village-street, but all was still. - -Presently he heard a sort of splitting sound within the office, which he -knew was made by the forcing open of the lid of the desk. Very soon -afterward the boys came out, in a hurried manner----Griff had the -lantern and Gilpin the box. - -"Have you got it?" said Rodolphus. - -"Yes," said Griff. - -"Let's see," said Rodolphus. - -Griff held out the box to Rodolphus. It was very heavy and they could -hear the sound of the money within. All three of the boys seemed almost -wild with trepidation and excitement. Griff however immediately began to -hurry them away, pulling the box from them and saying, "Come, come, -boys, we must not stay fooling here." - -"Wait a minute till I hide the tools again?" said Rodolphus, "and then -we'll run." - -Rodolphus hid the tools behind the wood-pile, in the shed, where they -had been before, and then the boys sallied forth into the street. They -crept along stealthily in the shadows of the houses and in the most dark -and obscure places, until they came to the tavern, where they were to -turn down the lane to the corn-barn. As soon as they got safely to this -lane, they felt relieved, and they walked on in a more unconcerned -manner; and when at length they got fairly in under the corn-barn they -felt perfectly secure. - -"There," said Griff, "was not that well done?" - -"Yes," said Rodolphus, "and now all that we have got to do is to get the -box open." - -"We can break it open with stones," said Griff. - -"No," said Gilpin, "that will make too much noise. We will bury it under -this straw for a few days, and open it somehow or other by-and-by, when -they have given up looking for the box. You can get the real key of it -for us, Rodolphus, can't you?" - -"How can I get it?" asked Rodolphus. - -"Oh, you can contrive some way to get it from old Kerber, I've no doubt. -At any rate the best thing is to bury it now." - -[Illustration: THE CORN-BARN.] - -To this plan the boys all agreed. They pulled away the straw, which was -spread under the corn-barn, and dug a hole in the ground beneath, -working partly with sticks and partly with their fingers. When they had -got the hole deep enough, they put the box in and covered it up. Then -they spread the straw over the place as before. - -During all this time the lantern had been standing upon a box pretty -near by, having been put there by the boys, in order that the light -might shine down upon the place where they had been digging. As soon as -their work was done, the boys went softly outside to see if the way was -clear for them to go home, leaving the lantern on the box; and while -they were standing at the corner of the barn outside, looking up the -lane, and whispering together, they saw suddenly a light beginning to -gleam up from within. They ran in and found that the lantern had fallen -down, and that the straw was all in a blaze. They immediately began to -tread upon the fire and try to put it out, but the instant that they did -so they were all thunderstruck by the appearance of a fourth person, who -came rushing in among them from the outside. They all screamed out with -terror and ran. Rodolphus separated from the rest and crouched down a -moment behind the stone wall, but immediately afterward, feeling that -there would be no safety for him here, he set off again and ran across -some back fields and gardens, in the direction toward Mr. Kerber's. He -looked back occasionally and found that the light was rapidly -increasing. Presently he began to hear cries of fire. He ran on till he -reached the house; he scrambled over the fences into the back yard, -climbed up upon a shed, crept along under the chimneys to the window of -his room, got in as fast as he could, undressed himself and went to bed, -and had just drawn the clothes up over him, when he heard a loud -knocking at the door, and Mrs. Kerber's voice outside, calling out to -him, that there was a cry of fire in the village, and that he must get -up quick as possible and help put it out. - - (TO BE CONTINUED.) - - - - -NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.[2] - -BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT. - -THE RETURN FROM EGYPT. - - -[Footnote 2: Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by -Harper and Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the -Southern District of New York.] - -The Expedition to Egypt was one of the most magnificent enterprises -which human ambition ever conceived. The Return to France combines still -more, if possible, of the elements of the moral sublime. But for the -disastrous destruction of the French fleet the plans of Napoleon, in -reference to the East, would probably have been triumphantly successful. -At least it can not be doubted that a vast change would have been -effected throughout the Eastern world. Those plans were now hopeless. -The army was isolated, and cut off from all reinforcements and all -supplies. The best thing which Napoleon could do for his troops in Egypt -was to return to France, and exert his personal influence in sending -them succor. His return involved the continuance of the most honorable -devotion to those soldiers whom he necessarily left behind him. The -secrecy of his departure was essential to its success. Had the bold -attempt been suspected, it would certainly have been frustrated by the -increased vigilance of the English cruisers. The intrepidity of the -enterprise must elicit universal admiration. - -Contemplate, for a moment, the moral aspects of this undertaking. A -nation of thirty millions of people, had been for ten years agitated by -the most terrible convulsions. There is no atrocity, which the tongue -can name, which had not desolated the doomed land. Every passion which -can degrade the heart of fallen man, had swept with simoom blast over -the cities and the villages of France. Conflagrations had laid the -palaces of the wealthy in ruins, and the green lawns where their -children had played, had been crimsoned with the blood of fathers and -sons, mothers and daughters. A gigantic system of robbery had seized -upon houses and lands and every species of property and had turned -thousands of the opulent out into destitution, beggary, and death. -Pollution had been legalized by the voice of God-defying lust, and -France, _la belle France_, had been converted into a disgusting -warehouse of infamy. Law, with suicidal hand, had destroyed itself, and -the decisions of the legislature swayed to and fro, in accordance with -the hideous clamors of the mob. The guillotine, with gutters ever -clotted with human gore, was the only argument which anarchy -condescended to use. Effectually it silenced every remonstrating tongue. -Constitution after constitution had risen, like mushrooms, in a night, -and like mushrooms had perished in a day. Civil war was raging with -bloodhound fury in France, Monarchists and Jacobins grappling each other -infuriate with despair. The allied kings of Europe, who by their -alliance had fanned these flames of rage and ruin, were gazing with -terror upon the portentous prodigy, and were surrounding France with -their navies and their armies. - -The people had been enslaved for centuries by the king and the nobles. -Their oppression had been execrable, and it had become absolutely -unendurable. "We, the millions," they exclaimed in their rage, "will no -longer minister to your voluptuousness, and pride, and lust." "You -shall, you insolent dogs," exclaimed king and nobles, "we heed not your -barking." "You shall," reiterated the Pope, in the portentous -thunderings of the Vatican. "You shall," came echoed back from the -palaces of Vienna, from the dome of the Kremlin, from the seraglio of -the Turk, and, in tones deeper, stronger, more resolute, from -constitutional, liberty-loving, happy England. Then was France a -volcano, and its lava-streams deluged Europe. The people were desperate. -In the blind fury of their frenzied self-defense they lost all -consideration. The castles of the nobles were but the monuments of past -taxation and servitude. With yells of hatred the infuriated populace -razed them to the ground. The palaces of the kings, where, for uncounted -centuries, dissolute monarchs had reveled in enervating and -heaven-forbidden pleasures, were but national badges of the bondage of -the people. The indignant throng swept through them, like a Mississippi -inundation, leaving upon marble floors, and cartooned walls and -ceilings, the impress of their rage. At one bound France had passed from -despotism to anarchy. The kingly tyrant, with golden crown and iron -sceptre, surrounded by wealthy nobles and dissolute beauties, had -disappeared, and a many-headed monster, rapacious and blood-thirsty, -vulgar and revolting, had emerged from mines and workshops and the -cellars of vice and penury, like one of the spectres of fairy tales to -fill his place. France had passed from Monarchy, not to healthy -Republicanism, but to Jacobinism, to the reign of the mob. Napoleon -utterly abhorred the tyranny of the king. He also utterly abhorred the -despotism of vulgar, violent, sanguinary Jacobin misrule. The latter he -regarded with even far deeper repugnance than the former. "I frankly -confess," said Napoleon, again and again, "that if I must choose between -Bourbon oppression, and mob violence, I infinitely prefer the former." - -Such had been the state of France, essentially, for nearly ten years. -The great mass of the people were exhausted with suffering, and longed -for repose. The land was filled with plots and counterplots. But there -was no one man of sufficient prominence to carry with him the nation. -The government was despised and disregarded. France was in a state of -chaotic ruin. Many voices here and there, began to inquire "Where is -Bonaparte, the conqueror of Italy, the conqueror of Egypt? He alone can -save us." His world-wide renown turned the eyes of the nation to him as -their only hope. - -Under these circumstances Napoleon, then a young man but twenty-nine -years of age, and who, but three years before, had been unknown to fame -or to fortune, resolved to return to France, to overthrow the miserable -government, by which the country was disgraced, to subdue anarchy at -home and aggression from abroad, and to rescue thirty millions of people -from ruin. The enterprise was undeniably magnificent in its grandeur and -noble in its object. He had two foes to encounter, each formidable, the -royalists of combined Europe and the mob of Paris. The quiet and -undoubting self-confidence with which he entered upon this enterprise, -is one of the most remarkable events in the whole of his extraordinary -career. He took with him no armies to hew down opposition. He engaged in -no deep-laid and wide-spread conspiracy. Relying upon the energies of -his own mind, and upon the sympathies of the great mass of the people, -he went alone, with but one or two companions, to whom he revealed not -his thoughts, to gather into his hands the scattered reins of power. -Never did he encounter more fearful peril. The cruisers of England, -Russia, Turkey, of allied Europe in arms against France, thronged the -Mediterranean. How could he hope to escape them? The guillotine was red -with blood. Every one who had dared to oppose the mob had perished upon -it. How could Napoleon venture, single-handed, to beard this terrible -lion in his den? - -It was ten o'clock at night, the 22d of August, 1799, when Napoleon -ascended the sides of the frigate Muiron, to sail for France. A few of -his faithful Guards, and eight companions, either officers in the army -or members of the scientific corps, accompanied him. There were five -hundred soldiers on board the ships. The stars shone brightly in the -Syrian sky, and under their soft light the blue waves of the -Mediterranean lay spread out most peacefully before them. The frigates -unfurled their sails. Napoleon, silent and lost in thought, for a long -time walked the quarter deck of the ship, gazing upon the low outline of -Egypt as, in the dim starlight, it faded away. His companions were -intoxicated with delight, in view of again returning to France. Napoleon -was neither elated nor depressed. Serene and silent he communed with -himself, and whenever we can catch a glimpse of those secret communings -we find them always bearing the impress of grandeur. Though Napoleon was -in the habit of visiting the soldiers at their camp fires, of sitting -down and conversing with them with the greatest freedom and familiarity, -the majesty of his character overawed his officers, and adoration and -reserve blended with their love. Though there was no haughtiness in his -demeanor, he habitually dwelt in a region of elevation above them all. -Their talk was of cards, of wine, of pretty women. Napoleon's thoughts -were of empire, of renown, of moulding the destinies of nations. They -regarded him not as a companion, but as a master, whose wishes they -loved to anticipate; for he would surely guide them to wealth, and fame, -and fortune. He contemplated them, not as equals and confiding friends, -but as efficient and valuable instruments for the accomplishment of his -purposes. Murat was to Napoleon a body of ten thousand horse-men, ever -ready for a resistless charge. Lannes was a phalanx of infantry, -bristling with bayonets, which neither artillery nor cavalry could -batter down or break. Augereau was an armed column of invincible troops, -black, dense, massy, impetuous, resistless, moving with gigantic tread -wherever the finger of the conqueror pointed. These were but the members -of Napoleon's body, the limbs obedient to the mighty soul which swayed -them. They were not the companions of his thoughts, they were only the -servants of his will. The number to be found with whom the soul of -Napoleon could dwell in sympathetic friendship was few--very few. - -Napoleon had formed a very low estimate of human nature, and -consequently made great allowance for the infirmities incident to -humanity. Bourrienne reports him as saying, "Friendship is but a name. I -love no one; no, not even my brothers. Joseph perhaps a little. And if I -do love him, it is from habit, and because he is my elder. Duroc! Ah, -yes! I love him too. But why? His character pleases me. He is cold, -reserved, and resolute, and I really believe that he never shed a tear. -As to myself, I know well that I have not one true friend. As long as I -continue what I am, I may have as many pretended friends as I please. We -must leave sensibility to the women. It is their business. Men should be -firm in heart and in purpose, or they should have nothing to do with war -or government. I am not amiable. No; I am not amiable I never have been. -But I am just." - -In another mood of mind, more tender, more subdued, he remarked, at St. -Helena, in reply to Las Casas, who with great severity was condemning -those who abandoned Napoleon in his hour of adversity: "You are not -acquainted with men. They are difficult to comprehend if one wishes to -be strictly just. Can they understand or explain even their own -characters? Almost all those who abandoned me would, had I continued to -be prosperous, never perhaps have dreamed of their own defection. There -are vices and virtues which depend upon circumstances. Our last trials -were beyond all human strength! Besides I was forsaken rather than -betrayed; there was more of weakness than of perfidy around me. _It was -the denial of St. Peter._ Tears and penitence are probably at hand, And -where will you find in the page of history any one possessing a greater -number of friends and partisans? Who was ever more popular and more -beloved? Who was ever more ardently and deeply regretted? Here, from -this very rock, on viewing the present disorders in France, who would -not be tempted to say that I still reign there? No; human nature might -have appeared in a more odious light." - -Las Casas, who shared with Napoleon his weary years of imprisonment at -St. Helena, says of him: "He views the complicated circumstances of his -fall from so high a point that individuals escape his notice. He never -evinces the least symptom of virulence toward those of whom it might be -supposed he has the greatest reason to complain. His strongest mark of -reprobation, and I have had frequent occasions to notice it, is to -preserve silence with respect to them whenever they are mentioned in his -presence. But how often has he been heard to restrain the violent and -less reserved expressions of those about him?" - -"And here I must observe," says Las Casas, "that since I have become -acquainted with the Emperor's character, I have never known him to -evince, for a single moment, the least feeling of anger or animosity -against those who had most deeply injured him. He speaks of them coolly -and without resentment, attributing their conduct, in some measure, to -the perplexing circumstances in which they were placed, and throwing the -rest to the account of human weakness." - -Marmont, who surrendered Paris to the allies, was severely condemned by -Las Casas. Napoleon replied: "Vanity was his ruin. Posterity will justly -cast a shade upon his character, yet his heart will be more valued than -the memory of his career." "Your attachment for Berthier," said Las -Casas, "surprised us. He was full of pretensions and pride." "Berthier -was not without talent," Napoleon replied, "and I am far from wishing to -disavow his merit, or my partiality; but he was so undecided!" "He was -very harsh and overbearing," Las Casas rejoined. "And what, my dear Las -Casas," Napoleon replied, "is more overbearing than weakness which feels -itself protected by strength? Look at women, for example." This Berthier -had, with the utmost meanness, abandoned his benefactor, and took his -place in front of the carriage of Louis XVIII. as he rode triumphantly -into Paris. "The only revenge I wish on this poor Berthier," said -Napoleon at the time, "would be to see him in his costume of captain of -the body-guard of Louis." - -Says Bourrienne, Napoleon's rejected secretary, "The character of -Napoleon was not a cruel one. He was neither rancorous nor vindictive. -None but those who are blinded by fury, could have given him the name of -Nero or Caligula. I think that I have stated his real faults with -sufficient sincerity to be believed upon my word. I can assert that -Bonaparte, apart from politics, was feeling, kind, and accessible to -pity. He was very fond of children, and a bad man has seldom that -disposition. In the habits of private life he had, and the expression is -not too strong, much benevolence and great indulgence for human -weakness. A contrary opinion is too firmly fixed in some minds for me to -hope to remove it. I shall, I fear, have opposers; but I address myself -to those who are in search of truth. I lived in the most unreserved -confidence with Napoleon until the age of thirty-four years, and I -advance nothing lightly." This is the admission of one who had been -ejected from office by Napoleon, and who had become a courtier of the -reinstated Bourbons. It is a candid admission of an enemy. - -The ships weighed anchor in the darkness of the night, hoping before the -day should dawn to escape the English cruisers which were hovering about -Alexandria. Unfortunately, at midnight, the wind died away, and it -became almost perfectly calm. Fearful of being captured, some were -anxious to seek again the shore. "Be quiet," said Napoleon, "we shall -pass in safety." - -Admiral Gantheaume wished to take the shortest route to France. -Napoleon, however, directed the admiral to sail along as near as -possible to the coast of Africa, and to continue that unfrequented -route, till the ships should pass the Island of Sardinia. "In the mean -while," said he, "should an English fleet present itself, we will run -ashore upon the sands, and march, with the handful of brave men and the -few pieces of artillery we have with us, to Oran or Tunis, and there -find means to re-embark." Thus Napoleon, in this hazardous enterprise, -braved every peril. The most imminent and the most to be dreaded of all, -was captivity in an English prison. For twenty days the wind was so -invariably adverse, that the ships did not advance three hundred miles. -Many were so discouraged and so apprehensive of capture that it was even -proposed to return to Alexandria. Napoleon was much in the habit of -peaceful submission to that which he could not remedy. During all these -trying weeks he appeared perfectly serene and contented. To the -murmuring of his companions he replied, "We shall arrive in France in -safety. I am determined to proceed at all hazards. Fortune will not -abandon us." "People frequently speak," says Bourrienne, who accompanied -Napoleon upon this voyage, "of the good fortune which attaches to an -individual, and even attends him through life. Without professing to -believe in this sort of predestination, yet, when I call to mind the -numerous dangers which Bonaparte escaped in so many enterprises, the -hazards he encountered, the chances he ran, I can conceive that others -may have this faith. But having for a length of time studied the 'man -of destiny,' I have remarked that what was called his fortune was, in -reality, his genius; that his success was the consequence of his -admirable foresight--of his calculations, rapid as lightning, and of the -conviction that boldness is often the truest wisdom. If, for example, -during our voyage from Egypt to France, he had not imperiously insisted -upon pursuing a course different from that usually taken, and which -usual course was recommended by the admiral, would he have escaped the -perils which beset his path? Probably not. And was all this the effect -of chance? Certainly not." - -[Illustration: THE RETURN VOYAGE.] - -During these days of suspense, Napoleon, apparently as serene in spirit -as the calm which often silvered the unrippled surface of the sea, held -all the energies of his mind in perfect control. A choice library he -invariably took with him wherever he went. He devoted the hours to -writing, study, finding recreation in solving the most difficult -problems in geometry, and in investigating chemistry and other -scientific subjects of practical utility. He devoted much time to -conversation with the distinguished scholars whom he had selected to -accompany him. His whole soul seemed engrossed in the pursuit of -literary and scientific attainments. He also carefully, and with most -intense interest, studied the Bible and the Koran, scrutinizing, with -the eye of a philosopher, the antagonistic systems of the Christian and -the Moslem. The stupidity of the Koran wearied him. The sublimity of the -Scriptures charmed him. He read again and again, with deep admiration, -Christ's sermon upon the mount, and called his companions, from their -card-tables, to read it to them, that they might also appreciate its -moral beauty and its eloquence. "You will, ere long, become devout -yourself," said one of his infidel companions. "I wish I might become -so," Napoleon replied. "What a solace Christianity must be to one who -has an undoubting conviction of its truth." But practical Christianity -he had only seen in the mummeries of the papal church. Remembering the -fasts, the vigils, the penances, the cloisters, the scourgings of a -corrupt Christianity, and contrasting them with the voluptuous paradise -and the sensual houries which inflamed the eager vision of the Moslem, -he once exclaimed, in phrase characteristic of his genius, "The religion -of Jesus is a threat, that of Mohammed a promise." The religion of Jesus -is not a threat. Though the wrath of God shall fall upon the children of -disobedience, our Saviour invites us, in gentle accents, to the green -pastures and the still waters of the Heavenly Canaan; to cities -resplendent with pearls and gold; to mansions of which God is the -architect; to the songs of seraphim, and the flight of cherubim, -exploring on tireless pinion, the wonders of infinity; to peace of -conscience, and rapture dwelling in the pure heart, and to blest -companionship loving and beloved; to majesty of person and loftiness of -intellect; to appear as children and as nobles in the audience-chamber -of God; to an immortality of bliss. No! the religion of Jesus is not a -threat, though it has too often been thus represented by its mistaken or -designing advocates. - -One evening a group of officers were conversing together, upon the -quarter deck, respecting the existence of God. Many of them believed not -in his being. It was a calm, cloudless, brilliant night. The heavens, -the work of God's fingers, canopied them gloriously. The moon and the -stars, which God had ordained, beamed down upon them with serene lustre. -As they were flippantly giving utterance to the arguments of atheism, -Napoleon paced to and fro upon the deck, taking no part in the -conversation, and apparently absorbed in his own thoughts. Suddenly he -stopped before them and said, in those tones of dignity which ever -overawed, "Gentlemen, your arguments are very fine. But who made all -those worlds, beaming so gloriously above us? Can you tell me that?" No -one answered. Napoleon resumed his silent walk, and the officers -selected another topic for conversation. - -[Illustration: NAPOLEON AND THE ATHEISTS.] - -In these intense studies Napoleon first began to appreciate the beauty -and the sublimity of Christianity. Previously to this, his own strong -sense had taught him the principles of a noble toleration; and Jew, -Christian, and Moslem stood equally regarded before him. Now he began to -apprehend the surpassing excellence of Christianity. And though the -cares of the busiest life through which a mortal has ever passed soon -engrossed his energies, this appreciation and admiration of the gospel -of Christ, visibly increased with each succeeding year. He unflinchingly -braved the scoffs of infidel Europe, in re-establishing the Christian -religion in paganized France. He periled his popularity with the army, -and disregarded the opposition of his most influential friends, from his -deep conviction of the importance of religion to the welfare of the -state. With the inimitable force of his own glowing eloquence, he said -to Montholon, at St. Helena, "I know men, and I tell you that Jesus -Christ is not a man! The religion of Christ is a mystery, which subsists -by its own force, and proceeds from a mind which is not a human mind. We -find in it a marked individuality which originated a train of words and -maxims unknown before. Jesus borrowed nothing from our knowledge. He -exhibited himself the perfect example of his precepts. Jesus is not a -philosopher; for his proofs are his miracles, and from the first his -disciples adored him. In fact, learning and philosophy are of no use for -salvation; and Jesus came into the world to reveal the mysteries of -heaven and the laws of the spirit. Alexander, Cæsar, Charlemagne, and -myself have founded empires. But upon what did we rest the creations of -our genius? upon _force_. Jesus Christ alone founded his empire upon -love. And at this moment millions of men would die for him. I die before -my time, and my body will be given back to earth, to become food for -worms. Such is the fate of him who has been called the great Napoleon. -What an abyss between my deep misery and the eternal kingdom of Christ, -which is proclaimed, loved, and adored, and which is extending over the -whole earth! Call you this dying? Is it not living rather? The death of -Christ is the death of a God!" - -At the time of the invasion of Egypt, Napoleon regarded all forms of -religion with equal respect. And though he considered Christianity -superior, in intellectuality and refinement, to all other modes of -worship, he did not consider any religion as of divine origin. At one -time, speaking of the course which he pursued in Egypt, he said, "Such -was the disposition of the army, that in order to induce them to listen -to the bare mention of religion, I was obliged to speak very lightly on -the subject; to place Jews beside Christians, and rabbis beside bishops. -But after all it would not have been so very extraordinary had -circumstances induced me to embrace Islamism. But I must have had good -reasons for my conversion. I must have been secure of advancing at least -as far as the Euphrates. Change of religion for private interest is -inexcusable. But it may be pardoned in consideration of immense -political results. Henry IV. said, _Paris is well worth a mass_. Will it -then be said that the dominion of the East, and perhaps the subjugation -of all Asia, were not worth a _turban and a pair of trowsers_? And in -truth the whole matter was reduced to this. The sheiks had studied how -to render it easy to us. They had smoothed down the great obstacles, -allowed us the use of wine, and dispensed with all corporeal -formalities. We should have lost only our small-clothes and hats." - -Of the infidel Rousseau, Napoleon ever spoke in terms of severe -reprobation. "He was a bad man, a very bad man," said he, "he caused the -revolution." "I was not aware," another replied, "that you considered -the French Revolution such an unmixed evil." "Ah," Napoleon rejoined, -"you wish to say that without the revolution you would not have had me. -Nevertheless, without the revolution France would have been more happy." -When invited to visit the hermitage of Rousseau, to see his cap, table, -great chair, &c., he exclaimed, "Bah! I have no taste for such -fooleries. Show them to my brother Louis. He is worthy of them." - -Probably the following remarks of Napoleon, made at St. Helena, will -give a very correct idea of his prevailing feelings upon the subject of -religion. "The sentiment of religion is so consolatory, that it must be -considered a gift from Heaven. What a resource would it not be for us -here, to possess it. What rewards have I not a right to expect, who have -run a career so extraordinary, so tempestuous, as mine has been, without -committing a single crime. And yet how many might I not have been guilty -of? I can appear before the tribunal of God, I can await his judgment, -without fear. He will not find my conscience stained with the thoughts -of murder and poisonings; with the infliction of violent and -premeditated deaths, events so common in the history of those whose -lives resemble mine. I have wished only for the power, the greatness, -the glory of France. All my faculties, all my efforts, all my movements, -were directed to the attainment of that object. These can not be crimes. -To me they appeared acts of virtue. What then would be my happiness, if -the bright prospect of futurity presented itself to crown the last -moments of my existence." - -After a moment's pause, in which he seemed lost in thought, he resumed: -"But, how is it possible that conviction can find its way to our hearts, -when we hear the absurd language, and witness the iniquitous conduct of -the greater part of those whose business it is to preach to us. I am -surrounded by priests, who repeat incessantly that their reign is not of -this world; and yet they lay their hands upon every thing which they can -get. The Pope is the head of that religion which is from Heaven. What -did the present chief pontiff, who is undoubtedly a good and a holy man, -not offer, to be allowed to return to Rome. The surrender of the -government of the church, of the institution of bishops was not too much -for him to give, to become once more a secular prince. - -"Nevertheless," he continued, after another thoughtful pause, "it can -not be doubted that, as emperor, the species of incredulity which I felt -was beneficial to the nations I had to govern. How could I have favored -equally sects so opposed to one another, if I had joined any one of -them? How could I have preserved the independence of my thoughts and of -my actions under the control of a confessor, who would have governed me -under the dread of hell!" Napoleon closed this conversation, by ordering -the New Testament to be brought. Commencing at the beginning, he read -aloud as far as the conclusion of our Saviour's address to his disciples -upon the mountain. He expressed himself struck with the highest -admiration, in contemplating its purity, its sublimity, and the -beautiful perfection of its moral code. - -For forty days the ships were driven about by contrary winds, and on the -1st of October they made the island of Corsica, and took refuge in the -harbor of Ajaccio. The tidings that Napoleon had landed in his native -town swept over the island like a gale, and the whole population crowded -to the port to catch a sight of their illustrious countryman. "It -seemed," said Napoleon, "that half of the inhabitants had discovered -traces of kindred." But a few years had elapsed since the dwelling of -Madame Letitia was pillaged by the mob, and the whole Bonaparte family, -in penury and friendlessness, were hunted from their home, effecting -their escape in an open boat by night. Now, the name of Bonaparte filled -the island with acclamations. But Napoleon was alike indifferent to such -unjust censure, and to such unthinking applause. As the curse did not -depress, neither did the hosanna elate. - -After the delay of a few days in obtaining supplies, the ships again -weighed anchor, on the 7th of October, and continued their perilous -voyage. The evening of the next day, as the sun was going down in -unusual splendor, there appeared in the west, painted in strong relief -against his golden rays, an English squadron. The admiral, who saw from -the enemy's signals that he was observed, urged an immediate return to -Corsica. Napoleon, convinced that capture would be the result of such a -man[oe]uvre, exclaimed, "To do so would be to take the road to England. -I am seeking that to France. Spread all sail. Let every one be at his -post. Steer to the northwest. Onward." The night was dark, the wind -fair. Rapidly the ships were approaching the coast of France, through -the midst of the hostile squadron, and exposed to the most imminent -danger of capture. Escape seemed impossible. It was a night of fearful -apprehension and terror to all on board, excepting Napoleon. He -determined, in case of extremity, to throw himself into a boat, and -trust for safety to darkness and the oars. With the most perfect -self-possession and composure of spirits, he ordered the long-boat to be -prepared, selected those whom he desired to accompany him, and carefully -collected such papers as he was anxious to preserve. Not an eye was -closed during the night. It was indeed a fearful question to be decided. -Are these weary wanderers, in a few hours, to be in the embrace of their -wives and their children, or will the next moment show them the black -hull of an English man-of-war, emerging from the gloom, to consign them -to lingering years of captivity in an English prison? In this terrible -hour no one could perceive that the composure of Napoleon was in the -slightest degree ruffled. The first dawn of the morning revealed to -their straining vision the hills of France stretching along but a few -leagues before them, and far away, in the northeast, the hostile -squadron, disappearing beneath the horizon of the sea. The French had -escaped. The wildest bursts of joy rose from the ships. But Napoleon -gazed calmly upon his beloved France, with pale cheek and marble brow, -too proud to manifest emotion. At eight o'clock in the morning the four -vessels dropped anchor in the little harbor of Frejus. It was the -morning of the 8th of October. Thus for fifty days Napoleon had been -tossed upon the waves of the Mediterranean, surrounded by the hostile -fleets of England, Russia, and Turkey, and yet had eluded their -vigilance. - -This wonderful passage of Napoleon, gave rise to many caricatures, both -in England and France. One of these caricatures, which was conspicuous -in the London shop windows, possessed so much point and historic truth, -that Napoleon is said to have laughed most heartily on seeing it. Lord -Nelson, as is well known, with all his heroism, was not exempt from the -frailties of humanity. The British admiral was represented as guarding -Napoleon. Lady Hamilton makes her appearance, and his lordship becomes -so engrossed in caressing the fair enchantress, that Napoleon escapes -between his legs. This was hardly a caricature. It was almost historic -verity. While Napoleon was struggling against adverse storms off the -coast of Africa, Lord Nelson, adorned with the laurels of his -magnificent victory, in fond dalliance with his frail Delilah, was -basking in the courts of voluptuous and profligate kings. "No one," said -Napoleon, "can surrender himself to the dominion of love, without the -forfeiture of some palms of glory." - -[Illustration: THE LANDING AT FREJUS.] - -When the four vessels entered the harbor of Frejus, a signal at the -mast-head of the Muiron informed the authorities on shore that Napoleon -was on board. The whole town was instantly in commotion. Before the -anchors were dropped the harbor was filled with boats, and the ships -were surrounded with an enthusiastic multitude, climbing their sides, -thronging their decks, and rending the air with their acclamations. All -the laws of quarantine were disregarded. The people, weary of anarchy, -and trembling in view of the approaching Austrian invasion, were almost -delirious with delight in receiving thus, as it were from the clouds, a -deliverer, in whose potency they could implicitly trust. When warned -that the ships had recently sailed from Alexandria, and that there was -imminent danger that the plague might be communicated, they replied, "We -had rather have the plague than the Austrians." Breaking over all the -municipal regulations of health, the people took Napoleon, almost by -violence, hurried him over the side of the ship to the boats, and -conveyed him in triumph to the shore. The tidings had spread from -farm-house to farm-house with almost electric speed, and the whole -country population, men, women, and children, were crowding down to the -shore. Even the wounded soldiers in the hospital, left their cots and -crawled to the beach, to get a sight of the hero. The throng became so -great that it was with difficulty that Napoleon could land. The -gathering multitude, however, opened to the right and the left, and -Napoleon passed through them, greeted with the enthusiastic cries of -"Long live the conqueror of Italy, the conqueror of Egypt, the liberator -of France." The peaceful little harbor of Frejus was suddenly thrown -into a state of the most unheard of excitement. The bells rang their -merriest peels. The guns in the forts rolled forth their heaviest -thunders over the hills and over the waves; and the enthusiastic shouts -of the ever increasing multitudes, thronging Napoleon, filled the air. -The ships brought the first tidings of the wonderful victories of Mount -Tabor and of Aboukir. The French, humiliated by defeat, were exceedingly -elated by this restoration of the national honor. The intelligence of -Napoleon's arrival was immediately communicated, by telegraph, to Paris, -which was six hundred miles from Frejus. - -When the tidings of Napoleon's landing at Frejus, arrived in Paris, on -the evening of the 9th of October, Josephine was at a large party at the -house of M. Gohier, President of the Directory. All the most -distinguished men of the metropolis were there. The intelligence -produced the most profound sensation. Some, rioting in the spoils of -office, turned pale with apprehension; knowing well the genius of -Napoleon, and his boundless popularity, they feared another revolution, -which should eject them from their seats of power. Others were elated -with hope; they felt that Providence had sent to France a deliverer, at -the very moment when a deliverer was needed. One of the deputies, who -had been deeply grieved at the disasters which were overwhelming the -Republic, actually died of joy, when he heard of Napoleon's return. -Josephine, intensely excited by the sudden and totally unexpected -announcement, immediately withdrew, hastened home, and at midnight, -without allowing an hour for repose, she entered her carriage, with -Louis Bonaparte and Hortense, who subsequently became the bride of -Louis, and set out to meet her husband. Napoleon almost at the same -hour, with his suite, left Frejus. During every step of his progress he -was greeted with the most extraordinary demonstrations of enthusiasm and -affection. Bonfires blazed from the hills, triumphal arches, hastily -constructed, spanned his path. Long lines of maidens spread a carpet of -flowers for his chariot wheels, and greeted him with smiles and choruses -of welcome. He arrived at Lyons in the evening. The whole city was -brilliant with illuminations. An immense concourse surrounded him with -almost delirious shouts of joy. The constituted authorities received him -as he descended from his carriage. The mayor had prepared a long and -eulogistic harangue for the occasion. Napoleon had no time to listen to -it. With a motion of his hand, imposing silence, he said, "Gentlemen, I -learned that France was in peril, I therefore did not hesitate to leave -my army in Egypt, that I might come to her rescue. I now go hence. In a -few days, if you think fit to wait upon me, I shall be at leisure to -hear you." Fresh horses were by this time attached to the carriages, and -the cavalcade, which like a meteor had burst upon them, like a meteor -disappeared. From Lyons, for some unexplained reason, Napoleon turned -from the regular route to Paris and took a less frequented road. When -Josephine arrived at Lyons, to her utter consternation she found that -Napoleon had left the city, several hours before her arrival, and that -they had passed each other by different roads. Her anguish was -inexpressible. For many months she had not received a line from her -idolized husband, all communication having been intercepted by the -English cruisers. She knew that many, jealous of her power, had -disseminated, far and wide, false reports respecting her conduct. She -knew that these, her enemies, would surround Napoleon immediately upon -his arrival, and take advantage of her absence to inflame his mind -against her. Lyons is 245 miles from Paris. Josephine had passed over -those weary leagues of hill and dale, pressing on without intermission, -by day and by night, alighting not for refreshment or repose. Faint, -exhausted, and her heart sinking within her with fearful apprehensions -of the hopeless alienation of her husband, she received the dreadful -tidings that she had missed him. There was no resource left her but to -retrace her steps with the utmost possible celerity. Napoleon would, -however, have been one or two days in Paris before Josephine could, by -any possibility, re-enter the city. Probably in all France, there was -not, at that time, a more unhappy woman than Josephine. - -Secret wretchedness was also gnawing at the heart of Napoleon. Who has -yet fathomed the mystery of human love? Intensest love and intensest -hate can, at the same moment, intertwine their fibres in inextricable -blending. In nothing is the will so impotent as in guiding or checking -the impulses of this omnipotent passion. Napoleon loved Josephine with -that almost superhuman energy which characterized all the movements of -his impetuous spirit. The stream did not fret and ripple over a shallow -bed, but it was serene in its unfathomable depths. The world contained -but two objects for Napoleon, glory and Josephine; glory first, and -then, closely following, the more substantial idol. - -Many of the Parisian ladies, proud of a more exalted lineage than -Josephine could boast, were exceedingly envious of the supremacy she had -attained in consequence of the renown of her husband. Her influence over -Napoleon was well known. Philosophers, statesmen, ambitious generals, -all crowded her saloons, paying her homage. A favorable word from -Josephine they knew would pave the way for them to fame and fortune. -Thus Josephine, from the saloons of Paris, with milder radiance, -reflected back the splendor of her husband. She, solicitous of securing -as many friends as possible, to aid him in future emergencies, was as -diligent in "winning hearts" at home, as Napoleon was in conquering -provinces abroad. The gracefulness of Josephine, her consummate delicacy -of moral appreciation, her exalted intellectual gifts, the melodious -tones of her winning voice, charmed courtiers, philosophers, and -statesmen alike. Her saloons were ever crowded. Her entertainments were -ever embellished by the presence of all who were illustrious in rank and -power in the metropolis. And in whatever circles she appeared the eyes -of the gentlemen first sought for her. Two resistless attractions drew -them. She was peculiarly fascinating in person and in character, and, -through her renowned husband, she could dispense the most precious -gifts. It is not difficult to imagine the envy which must thus have been -excited. Many a haughty duchess was provoked, almost beyond endurance, -that Josephine, the untitled daughter of a West Indian planter, should -thus engross the homage of Paris, while she, with her proud rank, her -wit, and her beauty, was comparatively a cipher. Moreau's wife, in -particular, resented the supremacy of Josephine as a personal affront. -She thought General Moreau entitled to as much consideration as General -Bonaparte. By the jealousy, rankling in her own bosom, she finally -succeeded in rousing her husband to conspire against Napoleon, and thus -the hero of Hohenlinden was ruined. Some of the brothers and sisters of -Napoleon were also jealous of the paramount influence of Josephine, and -would gladly wrest a portion of it from her hands. Under these -circumstances, in various ways, slanders had been warily insinuated into -the ears of Napoleon, respecting the conduct of his wife. Conspiring -enemies became more and more bold. Josephine was represented as having -forgotten her husband, as reveling exultant with female vanity, in -general flirtation; and, finally, as guilty of gross infidelity. Nearly -all the letters written by Napoleon and Josephine to each other, were -intercepted by the English cruisers. Though Napoleon did not credit -these charges in full, he cherished not a little of the pride, which led -the Roman monarch to exclaim, "Cæsar's wife must not be suspected." - -Napoleon was in this troubled state of mind during the latter months of -his residence in Egypt. One day he was sitting alone in his tent, which -was pitched in the great Arabian desert. Several months had passed since -he had heard a word from Josephine. Years might elapse ere they would -meet again. Junot entered, having just received, through some channel of -jealousy and malignity, communications from Paris. Cautiously, but -fully, he unfolded the whole budget of Parisian gossip. Josephine had -found, as he represented, in the love of others an ample recompense for -the absence of her husband. She was surrounded by admirers with whom she -was engaged in an incessant round of intrigues and flirtations. -Regardless of honor she had surrended herself to the dominion of -passion. Napoleon was for a few moments in a state of terrible -agitation. With hasty strides, like a chafed lion, he paced his tent, -exclaiming, "Why do I love that woman so? Why can I not tear her image -from my heart? I will do so. I will have an immediate and an open -divorce--open and public divorce." He immediately wrote to Josephine, in -terms of the utmost severity, accusing her of "playing the coquette with -half the world." The letter escaped the British cruisers, and she -received it. It almost broke her faithful heart. Such were the -circumstances under which Napoleon and Josephine were to meet after an -absence of eighteen months. Josephine was exceedingly anxious to see -Napoleon before he should have an interview with her enemies. Hence the -depth of anguish with which she heard that her husband had passed her. -Two or three days must elapse ere she could possibly retrace the weary -miles over which she had already traveled. - -In the mean time the carriage of Napoleon was rapidly approaching the -metropolis. By night his path was brilliant with bonfires and -illuminations. The ringing of bells, the thunders of artillery, and the -acclamations of the multitude, accompanied him every step of his way. -But no smile of triumph played upon his pale and pensive cheeks. He felt -that he was returning to a desolated home. Gloom reigned in his heart. -He entered Paris, and drove rapidly to his own dwelling. Behold, -Josephine was not there. Conscious guilt, he thought, had made her -afraid to meet him. It is in vain to attempt to penetrate the hidden -anguish of Napoleon's soul. That his proud spirit must have suffered -intensity of woe, no one can doubt. The bitter enemies of Josephine -immediately surrounded him, eagerly taking advantage of her absence, to -inflame, to a still higher degree, by adroit insinuations, his jealousy -and anger. Eugene had accompanied him in his return from Egypt, and his -affectionate heart ever glowed with love and admiration for his mother. -With anxiety, amounting to anguish, he watched at the window for her -arrival. Said one to Napoleon, maliciously endeavoring to prevent the -possibility of reconciliation, "Josephine will appear before you, with -all her fascinations. She will explain matters. You will forgive all, -and tranquillity will be restored." "Never!" exclaimed Napoleon, with -pallid cheek and trembling lip, striding nervously to and fro, through -the room, "never! I forgive! never!" Then stopping suddenly, and gazing -the interlocutor wildly in the face, he exclaimed, with passionate -gesticulation, "You know me. Were I not sure of my resolution, I would -tear out this heart, and cast it into the fire." - -How strange is the life of the heart of man. From this interview, -Napoleon, two hours after his arrival in Paris, with his whole soul -agitated by the tumult of domestic woe, went to the palace of the -Luxembourg, to visit the Directory, to form his plans for the overthrow -of the government of France. Pale, pensive, joyless, his inflexible -purposes of ambition wavered not--his iron energies yielded not. -Josephine was an idol. He execrated her and he adored her. He loved her -most passionately. He hated her most virulently. He could clasp her one -moment to his bosom with burning kisses; the next moment he would spurn -her from him as the most loathsome wretch. But glory was a still more -cherished idol, at whose shrine he bowed with unwavering adoration. He -strove to forget his domestic wretchedness by prosecuting, with new -vigor, his schemes of grandeur. As he ascended the stairs of the -Luxembourg, some of the guard, who had been with him in Italy, -recognized his person, and he was instantly greeted, with enthusiastic -shouts, "Long live Bonaparte." The clamor rolled like a voice of thunder -through the spacious halls of the palace, and fell, like a death knell, -upon the ears of the Directors. The populace, upon the pavement, caught -the sound and reechoed it from street to street. The plays at the -theatres, and the songs at the Opera, were stopped, that it might be -announced, from the stage, that Bonaparte had arrived in Paris. Men, -women, and children simultaneously rose to their feet, and a wild burst -of enthusiastic joy swelled upon the night air. All Paris was in -commotion. The name of Bonaparte was upon every lip. The enthusiasm was -contagious. Illuminations began to blaze, here and there, without -concert, from the universal rejoicing, till the whole city was -resplendent with light. One bell rang forth its merry peal of greeting, -and then another, and another, till every steeple was vocal with its -clamorous welcome. One gun was heard, rolling its heavy thunders over -the city. It was the signal for an instantaneous, tumultuous roar, from -artillery and musketry, from all the battalions in the metropolis. The -tidings of the great victories of Aboukir and Mount Tabor, reached Paris -with Napoleon. Those Oriental names were shouted through the streets, -and blazed upon the eyes of the delighted people in letters of light. -Thus in an hour the whole of Paris was thrown into a delirium of joy, -and, without any previous arrangements, there was displayed the most -triumphant and gorgeous festival. - -The government of France was at this time organized somewhat upon the -model of that of the United States. Instead of one President, they had -five, called Directors. Their Senate was called The House of Ancients; -their House of Representatives, The Council of Five Hundred. The five -Directors, as might have been expected, were ever quarreling among -themselves, each wishing for the lion's share of power. The Monarchist, -the Jacobin, and the moderate Republican could not harmoniously -co-operate in government. They only circumvented each other, while the -administration sank into disgrace and ruin. The Abbé Sieyes was -decidedly the most able man of the Executive. He was a proud patrician, -and his character may be estimated from the following anecdote, which -Napoleon has related respecting him: - -"The abbé, before the revolution, was chaplain to one of the princesses. -One day, when he was performing mass before herself, her attendants, and -a large congregation, something occurred which rendered it necessary for -the princess to leave the room. The ladies in waiting and the nobility, -who attended church more out of complaisance to her than from any sense -of religion, followed her example. Sieyes was very busy reading his -prayers, and, for a few moments, he did not perceive their departure. At -last, raising his eyes from his book, behold the princess, the nobles, -and all the ton had disappeared. With an air of displeasure and contempt -he shut the book, and descended from the pulpit, exclaiming, 'I do not -read prayers for the rabble.' He immediately went out of the chapel, -leaving the service half-finished." - -Napoleon arrived in Paris on the evening of the 17th of October, 1799. -Two days and two nights elapsed, ere Josephine was able to retrace the -weary leagues over which she had passed. It was the hour of midnight on -the 19th, when the rattle of her carriage-wheels was heard entering the -court-yard of their dwelling in the Rue Chanteraine. Eugene, anxiously -awaiting her arrival, was instantly at his mother's side, folding her in -his embrace. Napoleon also heard the arrival, but he remained sternly in -his chamber. He had ever been accustomed to greet Josephine at the door -of her carriage, even when she returned from an ordinary morning ride. -No matter what employments engrossed his mind, no matter what guests -were present, he would immediately leave every thing, and hasten to the -door to assist Josephine to alight and to accompany her into the house. -But now, after an absence of eighteen months, the faithful Josephine, -half-dead with exhaustion, was at the door, and Napoleon, with pallid -cheek and compressed lip, and jealousy rankling in his bosom, remained -sternly in his room, preparing to overwhelm her with his indignation. - -Josephine was in a state of terrible agitation. Her limbs tottered and -her heart throbbed most violently. Assisted by Eugene, and accompanied -by Hortense, she tremblingly ascended the stairs to the little parlor -where she had so often received the caresses of her most affectionate -spouse. She opened the door. There stood Napoleon, as immovable as a -statue, leaning against the mantle, with his arms folded across his -breast. Sternly and silently, he cast a withering look upon Josephine, -and then exclaimed in tones, which, like a dagger pierced her heart, -"Madame! It is my wish that you retire immediately to Malmaison." - -Josephine staggered and would have fallen, as if struck by a mortal -blow, had she not been caught in the arms of her son. Sobbing bitterly -with anguish, she was conveyed by Eugene to her own apartment. Napoleon -also was dreadfully agitated. The sight of Josephine had revived all his -passionate love. But he fully believed that Josephine had unpardonably -trifled with his affections, that she had courted the admiration of a -multitude of flatterers, and that she had degraded herself and her -husband by playing the coquette. The proud spirit of Napoleon could not -brook such a requital for his fervid love. With hasty strides he -traversed the room, striving to nourish his indignation. The sobs of -Josephine had deeply moved him. He yearned to fold her again in fond -love to his heart. But he proudly resolved that he would not relent. -Josephine, with that prompt obedience which ever characterized her, -prepared immediately to comply with his orders. It was midnight. For a -week she had lived in her carriage almost without food or sleep. -Malmaison was thirty miles from Paris. Napoleon did not suppose that she -would leave the house until morning. Much to his surprise, in a few -moments he heard Josephine, Eugene, and Hortense descending the stairs -to take the carriage. Napoleon, even in his anger, could not be thus -inhuman. "My heart," he said, "was never formed to witness tears without -emotion." He immediately descended to the court-yard, though his pride -would not yet allow him to speak to Josephine. He, however, addressing -Eugene, urged the party to return and obtain refreshment and repose. -Josephine, all submission, unhesitatingly yielded to his wishes, and -re-ascending the stairs, in the extremity of exhaustion and grief, threw -herself upon a couch, in her apartment. Napoleon, equally wretched, -returned to his cabinet. Two days of utter misery passed away, during -which no intercourse took place between the estranged parties, each of -whom loved the other with almost superhuman intensity. - -Love in the heart will finally triumph over all obstructions. The -struggle was long, but gradually pride and passion yielded, and love -regained the ascendency. Napoleon so far surrendered on the third day, -as to enter the apartment of Josephine. She was seated at a -toilet-table, her face buried in her hands, and absorbed in the -profoundest woe. The letters, which she had received from Napoleon, and -which she had evidently been reading, were spread upon the table. -Hortense, the picture of grief and despair, was standing in the alcove -of a window. Napoleon had opened the door softly, and his entrance had -not been heard. With an irresolute step he advanced toward his wife, and -then said, kindly and sadly, "Josephine!" She started at the sound of -that well-known voice, and raising her swollen eyes, swimming in tears, -mournfully exclaimed, "Mon ami"--_my friend_. This was the term of -endearment with which she had invariably addressed her husband. It -recalled a thousand delightful reminiscences. Napoleon was vanquished. -He extended his hand. Josephine threw herself into his arms, pillowed -her aching head upon his bosom, and in the intensity of blended joy and -anguish, wept convulsively. A long explanation ensued. Napoleon became -satisfied that Josephine had been deeply wronged. The reconciliation was -cordial and entire, and was never again interrupted. - -[Illustration: THE RECONCILIATION.] - -Napoleon now, with a stronger heart, turned to the accomplishment of his -designs to rescue France from anarchy. He was fully conscious of his own -ability to govern the nation. He knew that it was the almost unanimous -wish of the people that he should grasp the reins of power. He was -confident of their cordial co-operation in any plans he might adopt. -Still, it was an enterprise of no small difficulty to thrust the five -Directors from their thrones, and to get the control of the Council of -Ancients and of The Five Hundred. Never was a difficult achievement more -adroitly and proudly accomplished. - -For many days Napoleon almost entirely secluded himself from -observation, affecting a studious avoidance of the public gaze. He laid -aside his military dress, and assumed the peaceful costume of the -National Institute. Occasionally he wore a beautiful Turkish sabre, -suspended by a silk ribbon. This simple dress transported the -imagination of the beholder to Aboukir, Mount Tabor, and the Pyramids. -He studiously sought the society of literary men, and devoted to them -his attention. He invited distinguished men of the Institute to dine -with him, and avoiding political discussion, conversed only upon -literary and scientific subjects. - -Moreau and Bernadotte were the two rival generals from whom Napoleon had -the most to fear. Two days after his arrival in Paris Napoleon said to -Bourrienne, "I believe that I shall have Bernadotte and Moreau against -me. But I do not fear Moreau. He is devoid of energy. He prefers -military to political power. We shall gain him by the promise of a -command. But Bernadotte has Moorish blood in his veins. He is bold and -enterprising. He does not like me, and I am certain that he will oppose -me. If he should become ambitious he will venture any thing. Besides, -this fellow is not to be seduced. He is disinterested and clever. But, -after all, we have just arrived. We shall see." - -Napoleon formed no conspiracy. He confided to no one his designs. And -yet, in his own solitary mind, relying entirely upon his own capacious -resources, he studied the state of affairs and he matured his plans. -Sieyes was the only one whose talents and influence Napoleon feared. The -abbé also looked with apprehension upon his formidable rival. They stood -aloof and eyed each other. Meeting at a dinner party, each was too proud -to make advances. Yet each thought only of the other. Mutually -exasperated, they separated without having spoken. "Did you see that -insolent little fellow!" said Sieyes, "he would not even condescend to -notice a member of the government, who, if they had done right, would -have caused him to be shot." "What on earth," said Napoleon, "could have -induced them to put that priest in the Directory. He is sold to Prussia. -Unless you take care, he will deliver you up to that power." Napoleon -dined with Moreau, who afterward in hostility to Napoleon pointed the -guns of Russia against the columns of his countrymen. The dinner party -was at Cottier's, one of the Directors. The following interesting -conversation took place between the rival generals. When first -introduced, they looked at each other a moment without speaking, -Napoleon, conscious of his own superiority, and solicitous to gain the -powerful co-operation of Moreau, made the first advances, and, with -great courtesy, expressed the earnest desire he felt to make his -acquaintance. "You have returned victorious from Egypt," replied -Moreau, "and I from Italy after a great defeat. It was the month which -General Joubert passed in Paris, after his marriage, which caused our -disasters. This gave the allies time to reduce Mantua, and to bring up -the force which besieged it to take a part in the action. It is always -the greater number which defeats the less." "True," replied Napoleon, -"it is always the greater number which beats the less." "And yet," said -Gohier, "with small armies you have frequently defeated large ones." -"Even then," rejoined Napoleon, "it was always the inferior force which -was defeated by the superior. When with a small body of men I was in the -presence of a large one, collecting my little band, I fell like -lightning on one of the wings of the hostile army, and defeated it. -Profiting by the disorder which such an event never failed to occasion -in their whole line, I repeated the attack, with similar success, in -another quarter, still with my whole force. I thus beat it in detail. -The general victory which was the result, was still an example of the -truth of the principle that the greater force defeats the lesser." -Napoleon, by those fascinations of mind and manner, which enabled him to -win to him whom he would, soon gained an ascendency over Moreau. And -when, two days after, in token of his regard, he sent him a beautiful -poniard set with diamonds, worth two thousand dollars: the work was -accomplished, and Moreau was ready to do his bidding. Napoleon gave a -small and very select dinner party. Gohier was invited. The conversation -turned on the turquoise used by the Orientals to clasp their turbans. -Napoleon, rising from the table took from a private drawer, two very -beautiful brooches, richly set with those jewels. One he gave to Gohier, -the other to his tried friend Desaix. "It is a little toy," said he, -"which we republicans may give and receive without impropriety." The -Director, flattered by the delicacy of the compliment, and yet not -repelled by any thing assuming the grossness of a bribe, yielded his -heart's homage to Napoleon. - -Republican France was surrounded by monarchies in arms against her. -Their hostility was so inveterate, and, from the very nature of the -case, so inevitable, that Napoleon thought that France should ever be -prepared for an attack, and that the military spirit should be carefully -fostered. Republican America, most happily, has no foe to fear, and all -her energies may be devoted to filling the land with peace and plenty. -But a republic in monarchical Europe must sleep by the side of its guns. -"Do you, really," said Napoleon, to Gohier, in this interview, "advocate -a general peace? You are wrong. The Republic should never make but -partial accommodations. It should always contrive to have some war on -hand to keep alive the military spirit." We can, perhaps, find a little -extenuation for this remark, in its apparent necessity, and in the -influences of the martial ardor in which Napoleon from his very infancy -had been enveloped. Even now, it is to be feared that the time is far -distant ere the nations of the earth can learn war no more. - -Lefebvre was commandant of the guard of the two legislative bodies. His -co-operation was important. Napoleon sent a special invitation for an -interview. "Lefebvre," said he, "will you, one of the pillars of the -Republic, suffer it to perish in the hands of these _lawyers_? Join me -and assist to save it." Taking from his own aide the beautiful Turkish -scimitar which he wore, he passed the ribbon over Lefebvre's neck, -saying, "accept this sword, which I wore at the battle of the Pyramids. -I give it to you as a token of my esteem and confidence." "Yes," replied -Lefebvre, most highly gratified at this signal mark of confidence and -generosity, "let us throw the lawyers into the river." - -Napoleon soon had an interview with Bernadotte. "He confessed," said -Napoleon to Bourrienne, "that he thought us all lost. He spoke of -external enemies, of _internal_ enemies, and, at that word he looked -steadily in my face. I also gave him a glance. But patience; the pear -will soon be ripe." - -In this interview Napoleon inveighed against the violence and -lawlessness of the Jacobin club. "Your own brothers," Bernadotte -replied, "were the founders of that club. And yet you reproach me with -favoring its principles. It is to the instructions of some one, _I know -not who_, that we are to ascribe the agitation which now prevails." -"True, general," Napoleon replied, most vehemently, "and I would rather -live in the woods, than in a society which presents no security against -violence." This conversation only strengthened the alienation already -existing between them. - -Bernadotte, though a brave and efficient officer, was a jealous -braggadocio. At the first interview between these two distinguished men, -when Napoleon was in command of the army of Italy, they contemplated -each other with mutual dislike. "I have seen a man," said Bernadotte, -"of twenty-six or seven years of age, who assumes the air of one of -fifty; and he presages any thing but good to the Republic." Napoleon -summarily dismissed Bernadotte by saying, "he has a French head and a -Roman heart." - -There were three political parties now dividing France, the old royalist -party, in favor of the restoration of the Bourbons; the radical -democrats, or Jacobins, with Barras at its head, supported by the mob of -Paris; and the moderate republicans led by Sieyes. All these parties -struggling together, and fearing each other, in the midst of the general -anarchy which prevailed, immediately paid court to Napoleon, hoping to -secure the support of his all-powerful arm. Napoleon determined to -co-operate with the moderate republicans. The restoration of the -Bourbons was not only out of the question, but Napoleon had no more -power to secure that result, than had Washington to bring the United -States into peaceful submission to George III. "Had I joined the -Jacobins," said Napoleon, "I should have risked nothing. But after -conquering _with_ them, it would have been necessary almost -immediately, to conquer _against_ them. A club can not endure a -permanent chief. It wants one for every successive passion. Now to make -use of a party one day, in order to attack it the next, under whatever -pretext it is done, is still an act of treachery. It was inconsistent -with my principles." - -Sieyes, the head of the moderate republicans, and Napoleon soon -understood each other, and each admitted the necessity of co-operation. -The government was in a state of chaos. "Our salvation now demands," -said the wily diplomatist, "both a head and a sword." Napoleon had both. -In one fortnight from the time when he landed at Frejus, "the pear was -ripe." The plan was all matured for the great conflict. Napoleon, in -solitary grandeur, kept his own counsel. He had secured the cordial -co-operation, the unquestioning obedience of all his subordinates. Like -the general upon the field of battle, he was simply to give his orders, -and columns marched, and squadrons charged, and generals swept the field -in unquestioning obedience. Though he had determined to ride over and to -destroy the existing government, he wished to avail himself, so far as -possible, of the mysterious power of law, as a conqueror turns a -captured battery upon the foe from whom it had been wrested. Such a -plot, so simple, yet so bold and efficient, was never formed before. And -no one, but another Napoleon, will be able to execute another such -again. All Paris was in a state of intense excitement. Something great -was to be done. Napoleon was to do it. But nobody knew when, or what, or -how. All impatiently awaited orders. The majority of the Senate, or -Council of Ancients, conservative in its tendencies, and having once -seen, during the reign of terror, the horrors of Jacobin domination, -were ready, most obsequiously, to rally beneath the banner of so -resolute a leader as Napoleon. They were prepared, without question, to -pass any vote which he should propose. The House of Representatives or -Council of Five Hundred, more democratic in its constitution, contained -a large number of vulgar, ignorant, and passionate demagogues, -struggling to grasp the reins of power. Carnot, whose co-operation -Napoleon had entirely secured, was President of the Senate. Lucien -Bonaparte, the brother of Napoleon, was Speaker of the House. The two -bodies met in the palace of the Tuileries. The constitution conferred -upon the Council of Ancients, the right to decide upon the place of -meeting for both legislative assemblies. - -All the officers of the garrison in Paris, and all the distinguished -military men in the metropolis, had solicited the honor of a -presentation to Napoleon. Without any public announcement, each one was -privately informed that Napoleon would see him on the morning of the 9th -of November. All the regiments in the city had also solicited the honor -of a review by the distinguished conqueror. They were also informed that -Napoleon would review them early on the morning of the 9th of November. -The Council of Ancients was called to convene at six o'clock on the -morning of the same day. The Council of Five Hundred were also to -convene at 11 o'clock of the same morning. This, the famous 18th of -Brumaire, was the destined day for the commencement of the great -struggle. These appointments were given in such a way as to attract no -public attention. The general-in-chief was thus silently arranging his -forces for the important conflict. To none did he reveal those -combinations, by which he anticipated a bloodless victory. - -[Illustration: THE MORNING LEVEE.] - -The morning of the 9th of November arrived. The sun rose with unwonted -splendor over the domes of the thronged city. A more brilliant day never -dawned. Through all the streets of the mammoth metropolis there was -heard, in the earliest twilight of the day, the music of martial bands, -the tramp of battalions, the clatter of iron hoofs, and the rumbling of -heavy artillery wheels over the pavements, as regiments of infantry, -artillery, and cavalry, in the proudest array, marched to the Boulevards -to receive the honor of a review from the conqueror of Italy and of -Egypt. The whole city was in commotion, guided by the unseen energies of -Napoleon in the retirement of his closet. At eight o'clock Napoleon's -house, in the Rue Chanteraine, was so thronged with illustrious military -men, in most brilliant uniform, that every room was filled and even the -street was crowded with the resplendent guests. At that moment the -Council of Ancients passed the decree, which Napoleon had prepared, -that the two legislative bodies should transfer their meetings to St. -Cloud, a few miles from Paris; and that Napoleon Bonaparte should be put -in command of all the military forces in the city, to secure the public -peace. The removal to St. Cloud was a merciful precaution against -bloodshed. It secured the legislatures from the ferocious interference -of a Parisian mob. The President of the Council was himself commissioned -to bear the decree to Napoleon. He elbowed his way through the brilliant -throng, crowding the door and the apartment of Napoleon's dwelling, and -presented to him the ordinance. Napoleon was ready to receive it. He -stepped upon the balcony, gathered his vast retinue of powerful guests -before him, and in a loud and firm voice, read to them the decree. -"Gentlemen," said he, "will you help me save the Republic?" One -simultaneous burst of enthusiasm rose from every lip, as drawing their -swords from their scabbards they waved them in the air and shouted, "We -swear it, we swear it." The victory was virtually won. Napoleon was now -at the head of the French nation. Nothing remained but to finish his -conquest. There was no retreat left open for his foes. There was hardly -the possibility of a rally. And now Napoleon summoned all his energies -to make his triumph most illustrious. Messengers were immediately sent -to read the decree to the troops already assembled, in the utmost -display of martial pomp, to greet the idol of the army, and who were in -a state of mind to welcome him most exultingly as their chief. A burst -of enthusiastic acclamation ascended from their ranks which almost rent -the skies. Napoleon immediately mounted his horse, and, surrounded by -the most magnificent staff, whom he had thus ingeniously assembled at -his house, and, accompanied by a body of fifteen hundred cavalry, whom -he had taken the precaution to rendezvous near his dwelling, proceeded -to the palace of the Tuileries. The gorgeous spectacle burst like a -vision upon astonished Paris. It was Napoleon's first public appearance. -Dressed in the utmost simplicity of a civilian's costume, he rode upon -his magnificent charger, the centre of all eyes. The gleaming banners, -waving in the breeze, and the gorgeous trappings of silver and gold, -with which his retinue was embellished, set off in stronger relief the -majestic simplicity of his own appearance. With the pomp and the -authority of an enthroned king, Napoleon entered the Council of the -Ancients. The Ancients themselves were dazzled by his sudden apparition -in such imposing and unexpected splendor and power. Ascending the bar, -attended by an imposing escort, he addressed the assembly and took his -oath of office. "You," said Napoleon, "are the wisdom of the nation. To -you it belongs to concert measures for the salvation of the Republic. I -come, surrounded by our generals, to offer you support. Faithfully will -I fulfill the task you have intrusted to me. Let us not look into the -past for precedents. Nothing in history resembles the eighteenth -century. Nothing in the eighteenth century resembles the present -moment." - -An aid was immediately sent to the palace of the Luxembourg, to inform -the five Directors, there in session, of the decree. Two of the -Directors, Sieyes and Ducos, were pledged to Napoleon, and immediately -resigned their offices, and hastened to the Tuileries. Barras, -bewildered and indignant, sent his secretary with a remonstrance. -Napoleon, already assuming the authority of an emperor, and speaking as -if France were his patrimony, came down upon him with a torrent of -invective. "Where," he indignantly exclaimed, "is that beautiful France -which I left you so brilliant? I left you peace. I find war. I left you -victories. I find but defeats. I left you the millions of Italy. I find -taxation and beggary. Where are the hundred thousand men, my companions -in glory? They are dead. This state of things can not continue. It will -lead to despotism." Barras was terrified. He feared to have Napoleon's -eagle eye investigate his peculations. He resigned. Two Directors only -now were left, Gohier and Moulins. It took a majority of the five to -constitute a quorum. The two were powerless. In despair of successful -resistance and fearing vengeance they hastened to the Tuileries to find -Napoleon. They were introduced to him surrounded by Sieyes, Ducos, and a -brilliant staff. Napoleon received them cordially. "I am glad to see -you," said he. "I doubt not that you will both resign. Your patriotism -will not allow you to oppose a revolution which is both inevitable and -necessary." "I do not yet despair," said Gohier, vehemently, "aided by -my colleague Moulins, of saving the Republic." "With what will you save -it?" exclaimed Napoleon. "With the Constitution which is crumbling to -pieces?" Just at that moment a messenger came in and informed the -Directors that Santerre, the brewer, who, during the Reign of Terror, -had obtained a bloody celebrity as leader of the Jacobins, was rousing -the mob in the faubourgs to resistance. "General Moulins," said -Napoleon, firmly, "you are the friend of Santerre. Tell him that at the -very first movement he makes, I will cause him to be shot." Moulins, -exasperated yet appalled, made an apologetic reply. "The Republic is in -danger," said Napoleon. "We must save it. _It is my will._ Sieyes, -Ducos, and Barras have resigned. You are two individuals insulated and -powerless. I advise you not to resist." They still refused. Napoleon had -no time to spend in parleying. He immediately sent them both back into -the Luxembourg, separated them and placed them under arrest. Fouché,[3] -occupying the important post of Minister of Police, though not in -Napoleon's confidence, yet anxious to display his homage to the rising -luminary, called upon Napoleon and informed him that he had closed the -barriers, and had thus prevented all ingress or egress. "What means this -folly?" said Napoleon. "Let those orders be instantly countermanded. Do -we not march with the opinion of the nation, and by its strength alone? -Let no citizen be interrupted. Let every publicity be given to what is -done." - -[Footnote 3: "Fouché," said Napoleon, "is a miscreant of all colors, a -priest, a terrorist, and one who took an active part in many bloody -scenes of the Revolution. He is a man who can worm all your secrets out -of you, with an air of calmness and unconcern. He is very rich; but his -riches have been badly acquired. He never was my confidant. Never did he -approach me without bending to the ground. But I never had any esteem -for him. I employed him merely as an instrument."] - -The Council of Five Hundred, in great confusion and bewilderment, -assembled at eleven o'clock. Lucien immediately communicated the decree -transferring their session to St. Cloud. This cut off all debate. The -decree was perfectly legal. There could therefore be no legal pretext -for opposition. Napoleon, the idol of the army, had the whole military -power obedient to his nod. Therefore resistance of any kind was worse -than folly. The deed was adroitly done. At eleven o'clock the day's work -was accomplished. There was no longer a Directory. Napoleon was the -appointed chief of the troops, and they were filling the streets with -enthusiastic shouts of "Live Napoleon." The Council of Ancients were -entirely at his disposal. And a large party in the Council of Five -Hundred were also wholly subservient to his will. Napoleon, proud, -silent, reserved, fully conscious of his own intellectual supremacy, and -regarding the generals, the statesmen, and the multitude around him, as -a man contemplates children, ascended the grand staircase of the -Tuileries as if it were his hereditary home. Nearly all parties united -to sustain his triumph. Napoleon was a soldier. The guns of Paris -joyfully thundered forth the victory of one who seemed the peculiar -favorite of the God of war. Napoleon was a scholar, stimulating -intellect to its mightiest achievements. The scholars of Paris, -gratefully united to weave a chaplet for the brow of their honored -associate and patron. Napoleon was, for those days of profligacy and -unbridled lust, a model of purity of morals, and of irreproachable -integrity. The proffered bribe of millions could not tempt him. The -dancing daughters of Herodias, with all their blandishments, could not -lure him from his life of Herculean toil and from his majestic -patriotism. The wine which glitters in the cup, never vanquished him. At -the shrine of no vice was he found a worshiper. The purest and the best -in France, disgusted with that gilded corruption which had converted the -palaces of the Bourbons into harems of voluptuous sin, and still more -deeply loathing that vulgar and revolting vice, which had transformed -Paris into a house of infamy, enlisted all their sympathies in behalf of -the exemplary husband and the incorruptible patriot. Napoleon was one of -the most firm and unflinching friends of law and order. France was weary -of anarchy and was trembling under the apprehension that the gutters of -the guillotine were again to be clotted with blood. And mothers and -maidens prayed for God's blessing upon Napoleon, who appeared to them -as a messenger sent from Heaven for their protection. - -During the afternoon and the night his room at the Tuileries was -thronged with the most illustrious statesmen, generals, and scholars of -Paris, hastening to pledge to him their support. Napoleon, perfectly -unembarrassed and never at a loss in any emergency, gave his orders for -the ensuing day. Lannes was intrusted with a body of troops to guard the -Tuileries. Murat, who, said Napoleon, "was superb at Aboukir," with a -numerous cavalry and a corps of grenadiers was stationed at St. Cloud, a -thunderbolt in Napoleon's right hand. Woe betide the mob into whose -ranks that thunderbolt may be hurled. Moreau, with five hundred men, was -stationed to guard the Luxembourg, where the two refractory Directors -were held under arrest. Serrurier was posted in a commanding position -with a strong reserve, prompt for any unexpected exigence. Even a body -of troops were sent to accompany Barras to his country seat, ostensibly -as an escort of honor, but in reality to guard against any change in -that venal and versatile mind. The most energetic measures were -immediately adopted to prevent any rallying point for the disaffected. -Bills were every where posted, exhorting the citizens to be quiet, and -assuring them that powerful efforts were making to save the Republic. -These minute precautions were characteristic of Napoleon. He believed in -destiny. Yet he left nothing for destiny to accomplish. He ever sought -to make provision for all conceivable contingencies. These measures were -completely successful. Though Paris was in a delirium of excitement, -there were no outbreaks of lawless violence. Neither Monarchist, -Republican, nor Jacobin knew what Napoleon intended to do. All were -conscious that he would do something. It was known that the Jacobin -party in the Council of Five Hundred on the ensuing day, would make a -desperate effort at resistance. Sieyes, perfectly acquainted with -revolutionary movements, urged Napoleon to arrest some forty of the -Jacobins most prominent in the Council. This would have secured an easy -victory on the morrow. Napoleon, however, rejected the advice, saying, -"I pledged my word this morning to protect the national representation. -I will not this evening violate my oath." Had the Assembly been convened -in Paris, all the mob of the faubourgs would have risen, like an -inundation, in their behalf, and torrents of blood must have been shed. -The sagacious transference of the meeting to St. Cloud, several miles -from Paris, saved those lives. The powerful military display, checked -any attempt at a march upon St. Cloud. What could the mob do, with -Murat, Lannes, and Serrurier, guided by the energies of Napoleon, ready -to hurl their solid columns upon them? - -[Illustration: NAPOLEON ON HIS WAY TO ST. CLOUD.] - -The delicacy of attention with which Napoleon treated Josephine, was one -of the most remarkable traits in his character. It is not strange that -he should have won from her a love almost more than human. During the -exciting scenes of this day, when no one could tell whether events were -guiding him to a crown or to the guillotine, Napoleon did not forget his -wife, who was awaiting the result, with deep solicitude, in her chamber -in the Rue Chanteraine. Nearly every hour he dispatched a messenger to -Josephine, with a hastily written line communicating to her the progress -of events. Late at night he returned to his home, apparently as fresh -and unexhausted as in the morning. He informed Josephine minutely of the -scenes of the day, and then threw himself upon a sofa, for an hour's -repose. Early the next morning he was on horseback, accompanied by a -regal retinue, directing his steps to St. Cloud. Three halls had been -prepared in the palace; one for the Ancients, one for the Five Hundred, -and one for Napoleon. He thus assumed the position which he knew it to -be the almost unanimous will of the nation that, he should fill. During -the night the Jacobins had arranged a very formidable resistance. -Napoleon was considered to be in imminent peril. He would be denounced -as a traitor. Sieyes and Ducos had each a post-chaise and six horses, -waiting at the gate of St. Cloud, prepared, in case of reverse, to -escape for life. There were many ambitious generals, ready to mount the -crest of any refluent wave to sweep Napoleon to destruction. Bernadotte -was the most to be feared. Orders were given to cut down the first -person who should attempt to harangue the troops. Napoleon, riding at -the head of this imposing military display, manifested no agitation. He -knew, however, perfectly well the capriciousness of the popular voice, -and that the multitude in the same hour could cry "Hosanna!" and -"Crucify!" The two Councils met. The tumult in the Five Hundred was -fearful. Cries of "Down with the dictator!" "Death to the tyrant!" "Live -the Constitution!" filled the hall, and drowned the voice of -deliberation. The friends of Napoleon were swept before the flood of -passion. It was proposed that every member should immediately take anew -the oath to support the Constitution. No one dared to peril his life by -the refusal. Even Lucien, the Speaker, was compelled to descend from his -chair and take the oath. The Ancients, overawed by the unexpected -violence of this opposition in the lower and more popular house, began -to be alarmed and to recede. The opposition took a bold and aggressive -stand, and proposed a decree of outlawry against Napoleon. The friends -of Napoleon, remembering past scenes of carnage, were timid and -yielding. Defeat seemed inevitable. Victory was apparently turned into -discomfiture and death. In this emergency Napoleon displayed the same -coolness, energy, and tact with which so often, on the field of battle, -in the most disastrous hour, he had rolled back the tide of defeat in -the resplendent waves of victory. His own mind was the corps de reserve -which he now marched into the conflict to arrest the rout of his -friends. Taking with him a few aids and a band of grenadiers, he -advanced to the door of the hall. On his way he met Bernadotte. "You are -marching to the guillotine," said his rival, sternly. "We shall see," -Napoleon coolly replied. Leaving the soldiers, with their glittering -steel and nodding plumes, at the entrance of the room, he ascended the -tribune. The hush of perfect silence pervaded the agitated hall. -"Gentlemen," said he, "you are on a volcano. You deemed the Republic in -danger. You called me to your aid. I obeyed. And now I am assailed by a -thousand calumnies. They talk of Cæsar, of Cromwell, of military -despotism, as if any thing in antiquity resembled the present moment -Danger presses. Disaster thickens. We have no longer a government. The -Directors have resigned. The Five Hundred are in a tumult. Emissaries -are instigating Paris to revolt. Agitators would gladly bring back the -revolutionary tribunals. But fear not. Aided by my companions in arms I -will protect you. I desire nothing for myself, but to save the Republic. -And I solemnly swear to protect that _liberty and equality,_ for which -we have made such sacrifices." "And the _Constitution_!" some one cried -out. Napoleon had purposely omitted the _Constitution_ in his oath, for -he despised it, and was at that moment laboring for its overthrow. He -paused for a moment, and then, with increasing energy exclaimed, "The -Constitution! You have none. You violated it when the Executive -infringed the rights of the Legislature. You violated it when the -Legislature struck at the independence of the Executive. You violated it -when, with sacriligious hand, both the Legislature and the Executive -struck at the sovereignty of the people, by annulling their elections. -The Constitution! It is a mockery; invoked by all, regarded by none." - -[Illustration: NAPOLEON IN THE COUNCIL OF FIVE HUNDRED.] - -Rallied by the presence of Napoleon, and by these daring words, his -friends recovered their courage, and two-thirds of the Assembly rose in -expression of their confidence and support. At this moment intelligence -arrived that the Five Hundred were compelling Lucien to put to the vote -Napoleon's outlawry. Not an instant was to be lost. There is a -mysterious power in law. The passage of that vote would probably have -been fatal. Life and death were trembling in the balance. "I would then -have given two hundred millions," said Napoleon, "to have had Ney by my -side." Turning to the Ancients, he exclaimed, "if any orator, paid by -foreigners, shall talk of outlawing me, I will appeal for protection to -my brave companions in arms, whose plumes are nodding at the door. -Remember that I march accompanied by the God of fortune and by the God -of war." - -He immediately left the Ancients, and, attended by his military band, -hastened to the Council of Five Hundred. On his way he met Augereau, who -was pale and trembling, deeming Napoleon lost. "You have got yourself -into a pretty fix," said he, with deep agitation. "Matters were worse at -Arcola," Napoleon coolly replied. "Keep quiet. All will be changed in -half an hour." Followed by his grenadiers, he immediately entered the -Hall of the Five Hundred. The soldiers remained near the door. Napoleon -traversed alone half of the room to reach the bar. It was an hour in -which nothing could save him but the resources of his own mind. Furious -shouts rose from all parts of the house. "What means this! down with the -tyrant! begone! begone!" "The winds," says Napoleon, "suddenly escaping -from the caverns of Æolus can give but a faint idea of that tempest." In -the midst of the horrible confusion he in vain endeavored to speak. The -members, in the wildest fray, crowded around him. The grenadiers -witnessing the peril of their chief rushed to his rescue. A dagger was -struck at his bosom. A soldier, with his arm, parried the blow. With -their bayonets they drove back the members, and encircling Napoleon, -bore him from the Hall. Napoleon had hardly descended the outer steps -ere some one informed him that his brother Lucien was surrounded by the -infuriated deputies, and that his life was in imminent jeopardy. -"Colonel Dumoulin," said he, "take a battalion of grenadiers and hasten -to my brother's deliverance." The soldiers rushed into the room, drove -back the crowd who, with violent menaces, were surrounding Lucien, and -saying, "It is by your brother's commands," escorted him in safety out -of the hall into the court-yard. Napoleon, now mounting his horse, with -Lucien by his side, rode along in front of his troops. "The Council of -Five Hundred," exclaimed Lucien, "is dissolved. It is I that tell you -so. Assassins have taken possession of the hall of meeting. I summon you -to march and clear it of them." "Soldiers!" said Napoleon, "can I rely -upon you?" "Long live Bonaparte," was the simultaneous response. Murat -took a battalion of grenadiers and marched to the entrance of the hall. -When Murat headed a column it was well known that there would be no -child's play. "Charge bayonets, forward!" he exclaimed, with -imperturbable coolness. The drums beat the charge. Steadily the -bristling line of steel advanced. The terrified representatives leaped -over the benches, rushed through the passage ways, and sprang out of the -windows, throwing upon the floor, in their precipitate flight, gowns, -scarfs, and hats. In two minutes the hall was cleared. As the -Representatives were flying in dismay across the garden, an officer -proposed that the soldiers should be ordered to fire upon them. Napoleon -decisively refused, saying, "It is my wish that not a single drop of -blood be spilt." - -As Napoleon wished to avail himself as far as possible, of the forms of -law, he assembled the two legislative bodies in the evening. Those only -attended who were friendly to his cause. Unanimously they decreed that -Napoleon had deserved well of his country; they abolished the Directory. -The executive power they vested in Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos, with the -title of Consuls. Two committees of twenty-five members each, taken from -the two Councils, were appointed to co-operate with the Consuls in -forming a new Constitution. During the evening the rumor reached Paris -that Napoleon had failed in his enterprise. The consternation was great. -The mass of the people, of all ranks, dreading the renewal of -revolutionary horrors, and worn out with past convulsions, passionately -longed for repose. Their only hope was in Napoleon. At nine o'clock at -night intelligence of the change of government was officially announced, -by a proclamation which the victor had dictated with the rapidity and -the glowing eloquence which characterized all of his mental acts. It was -read by torchlight to assembled and deeply agitated groups, all over the -city. The welcome tidings were greeted with the liveliest demonstrations -of applause. At three o'clock in the morning Napoleon threw himself into -his carriage to return to Paris. Bourrienne accompanied him. Napoleon -appeared so absorbed in thought, that he uttered not one single word -during the ride. - -At four o'clock in the morning he alighted from his carriage, at the -door of his dwelling in the Rue Chanteraine. Josephine, in the greatest -anxiety, was watching at the window for his approach. Napoleon had not -been able to send her one single line during the turmoil and the peril -of that eventful day. She sprang to meet him. Napoleon fondly encircled -her in his arms, briefly recapitulated the scenes of the day, and -assured her that since he had taken the oath of office, he had not -allowed himself to speak to a single individual, for he wished that the -beloved voice of his Josephine might be the first to congratulate him -upon his virtual accession to the Empire of France. The heart of -Josephine could appreciate a delicacy of love so refined and so -touching. Well might she say, "Napoleon is the most fascinating of men." -It was then after four o'clock in the morning. The dawn of the day was -to conduct Napoleon to a new scene of Herculean toil in organizing the -Republic. Throwing himself upon a couch, for a few moments of repose, he -exclaimed, gayly, "good-night, my Josephine! To-morrow, we sleep in the -palace of the Luxembourg." - -Napoleon was then but twenty-nine years of age. And yet, under -circumstances of inconceivable difficulty, with unhesitating reliance -upon his own mental resources, he assumed the enormous care of creating -and administering a new government for thirty millions of people. Never -did he achieve a victory which displayed more consummate genius. On no -occasion of his life did his majestic intellectual power beam forth with -more brilliance. It is not to be expected that, for ages to come, the -world will be united in opinion respecting this transaction. Some -represent it as an outrage against law and liberty. Others consider it a -necessary act which put an end to corruption and anarchy. That the -course which Napoleon pursued was in accordance with the wishes of the -overwhelming majority of the French people no one can doubt. It is -questionable whether, even now, France is prepared for self-government. -There can be no question that then the republic had totally failed. Said -Napoleon, in reference to this revolution, "For my part, all my share of -the plot, was confined to assembling the crowd of my visitors at the -same hour in the morning, and marching at their head to seize upon -power. It was from the threshold of my door, and without my friends -having any previous knowledge of my intentions, that I led them to this -conquest. It was amidst the brilliant escort which they formed, their -lively joy and unanimous ardor, that I presented myself at the bar of -the Ancients to thank them for the dictatorship with which they invested -me. Metaphysicians have disputed and will long dispute, whether we did -not violate the laws, and whether we were not criminal. But these are -mere abstractions which should disappear before imperious necessity. One -might as well blame a sailor for waste and destruction, when he cuts -away a mast to save his ship. The fact is, had it not been for us the -country must have been lost. We saved it. The authors of that memorable -state transaction ought to answer their accusers proudly, like the -Roman, 'We protest that we have saved our country. Come with us and -render thanks to the Gods.'" - -With the exception of the Jacobins all parties were strongly in favor of -this revolution. For ten years the people had been so accustomed to the -violation of the laws, that they had ceased to condemn such acts, and -judged of them only by their consequences. All over France the feeling -was nearly universal in favor of the new government. Says Alison, who -surely will not be accused of regarding Napoleon with a partial eye, -"Napoleon rivaled Cæsar in the clemency with which he used his victory. -No proscriptions or massacres, few arrests or imprisonments followed the -triumph of order over revolution. On the contrary, numerous acts of -mercy, as wise as they were magnanimous, illustrated the rise of the -consular throne. The elevation of Napoleon was not only unstained by -blood, but not even a single captive long lamented the ear of the -victor. A signal triumph of the principles of humanity over those of -cruelty, glorious alike to the actors and the age in which it occurred; -and a memorable proof how much more durable are the victories obtained -by moderation and wisdom, than those achieved by violence and stained by -blood." - - - - -PARADISE LOST. - - -My knapsack was on my shoulder.--So said Armand, a young artist, when a -little company of us were sitting together the other evening.-- - -My knapsack was on my shoulder, my ashen stick in hand; three leagues of -dusty road had whitened me like a miller. Whence I came, whither I was -going--what matters it? I was not twenty years of age. My starting -point, therefore, was home; my goal was Paradise--any earthly Paradise I -could find. The country was not particularly picturesque; and the -weather was very hot. Great undulations of harvest-laden fields rolled -irregularly on all sides. Here was a hamlet; there a solitary -farm-house; yonder a wood; on each eminence a windmill. Some peasants -that were in the fields sang; and the birds chirped at them as if in -mockery. One or two wagons, dragged by oxen and horses, slowly moved -along the tree-bordered road. I sat down on a heap of stones. A wagoner -gruffly asked me if I was tired, and offered me "a lift." I accepted; -and soon I was stretched where dung had been; jolted into an uneasy -half-slumber, not without its charm, with the bells of the lazy team -softly jingling in my ears, until I thought fifty silver voices were -calling me away to a home that must be bright, and a land that must be -beautiful. - -I awoke in a mood sufficiently benign to receive an apology. The man had -forgotten me when he turned off the high road, and had taken me half a -league into the country. Where was the harm, honest wagoner? I am not -going any where; "I am only going to Paradise." There was no village of -that name in the neighborhood, he said; but he had no doubt I would be -pleased to see the grounds of the chateau. Of course, I had come on -purpose for that. I handed him his _pour-boire_. "Drink my health, good -man, and injure your own. Let us see these grounds.'" The man showed me -through a meadow near the farm (to which he belonged) and left me, -tossing the silver piece I had given him in his hard hand. I soon -observed that the place was worth seeing. - -A hasty glance showed it to be a fragment of wild nature, occupied in -its original state, and barricaded against civilization. There were -woods, and solitary trees, and lakes, and streams of sufficient -dimensions for grandeur; and, when once the wall disappeared amidst the -heavy foliage, I could at first discern no traces whatever of the -presence of man. However, on closer examination, I discovered that -nature had been improved upon; that all objects which might ungraciously -intercept the view, or deform a landscape, had been removed. There were -no sham ruins nor artificial cascades; but the stranger's steps were -led, by some ingenious process of plantation, insensibly to the best -points of view. I felt, and was thankful, for the presence of the art -which so industriously endeavored to conceal itself; but being, at that -time, as most young men are, inclined to compare great things with -small--thinking to be epigrammatic and knowing--I exclaimed aloud: "The -toilet of this park has been admirably performed." - -"A vulgar idea, vulgarly expressed," said a clear, firm voice above me. -I looked up, thinking that somebody was hidden in a tree; and, to my -surprise, saw a young woman, upon a fine large horse, holding a -riding-whip playfully over my head. She had approached across the turf -unheard; and had heard my exclamation, which, I assure you, was meant -for no ears but my own. - -"Madam," replied I, when I had recovered from my confusion, "I think you -misunderstand me. There is no vulgarity in comparing a prospect in which -every superfluity is thus tastefully pruned away, to a woman who, -instead of loading herself with ornaments, uses the arts of the toilet -to display all her beauties to the best advantage." - -"The explanation will not do," she replied. "It wants frankness. Your -phrase simply meant that you were ashamed of the admiration this view -had at first excited; and that you thought it necessary to exert the -manly privilege of contempt. If I had not seen you yonder using your -sketch-book, I should take you for a traveling hair-dresser." - -The tone and manner of my new acquaintance puzzled me exceedingly; and I -was at first rather irritated by the hostile attitude she assumed on -such slight grounds. It was evident she wished to provoke an -intellectual contest; for, at the moment, I did not understand that her -real desire was to suppress the formalities of an introduction. I -returned to the charge; she replied. A broadside of repartee was fired -off on either side; but insensibly we met upon common ground; -affectation was discarded; and, as we streamed irregularly along the -swardy avenues, or stopped at the entrance of a long vista--she gently -walking her docile genet; I with my hand upon its mane--we made more -advances toward familiarity and friendship in an hour than would have -been possible under any other circumstances in a season. - -Let me describe my impressions as I received them. Otherwise, how will -the narrative illustrate the theory? I am endeavoring to show, by -example, what an immense structure of happiness may be built upon a very -flimsy ground; that the material sequence of this life's events need -have no correspondence with the sequence of our sentiments; that--But I -must not anticipate. - -The lady, dressed in a green riding-habit, was remarkably handsome, as -this miniature will show. - -And Armand drew a small case from his breast. - -"It is made from memory; but I will answer for its exactitude." - -"We all know the face well enough, my friend," quoth Prevost; "it -re-appears in nearly all your pictures, like Raphael's Fornarina. Last -year you made it do duty for Medea; this year, modified to suit the -occasion, it will appear in the Salon as Charlotte Corday. Why have you -so carefully avoided that type in your Juliet and your Heloise? One -would imagine that, instead of being associated with pleasant -recollections, it suggested nothing but strife, violence, and despair." - -"Were that the case, you know," quoth Armand, with feigned -sprightliness, "my theory falls to the ground; and, in telling you my -story, I am only impertinently taking advantage of your good-nature to -make a confession, and thus ease a somewhat troubled mind. Listen to the -end; it is not far off." - -We reached a grotto on the borders of a little lake, where, to my -surprise, an elegant breakfast was laid out. There were two seats placed -ready; and Fifine, the maid, was there to serve. We partook of the meal -together, talking of every thing except of ourselves; but thinking of -nothing else. Once or twice a reflection on the oddity of this reception -flitted across my mind; but I thought that I had fallen in with some -eccentric mistress of the castle--such as one reads of in middle-age -romances--who was proud to give hospitality to a wandering artist. The -lady called me Hector, and I called her Andromache; and, under the -influence of some generous wine that came in with the dessert, I went so -far as to declare that my love for her was unbounded, and that she must -be my bride. I was thrown into ecstasies of delight by the frank reply, -that it only depended upon me to fix the day! What follies I committed I -scarcely recollect; but I know that Fifine scolded me; and said that, -for a well-educated young man, I was dreadfully forward. - -What a delightful half-hour was that which succeeded! The entrance of -the grotto was wreathed with vines. The ripples of the lake broke upon a -little beach of sand that seemed of gold dust; the path by which we had -come along ran at the foot of a precipice for about thirty yards, and -then climbed a steep bank; the expanse of water--possibly it was merely -a large pool, but these things magnify in memory--nestled at the feet of -some lofty wooded slopes, which, with the pure blue sky, it reflected. -We sat, side by side, hand in hand; but Fifine, whose notions of -propriety were extremely rigid, expostulated vehemently. I whispered -that she ought to be sent away; and Andromache was, perhaps, of my -opinion; but she did not venture to agree with me aloud. Thus the hour -passed in silent happiness; for our hearts soon became too full for -words; and I solemnly declare, that, to spend such another day, I would -discount ten years of my existence. - -As evening drew near, and I began to dream of the delights of a twilight -stroll along the margin of the lake, Fifine pitilessly suggested an -adjournment to the chateau. The word grated harshly on my ear. I had -almost pictured to myself the lady as a dryad, or a nymph living ever -amidst trees and grottoes. But prosy Fifine carried her point; and, in -half an hour, we were in the saloon of a most comfortable modern -dwelling, furnished with Parisian elegance. Several very commonplace -looking servants stared at me as I entered. My romantic ideas at once -received a shock. Five minutes afterward a post-chaise rolled up to the -door, and a stout old gentleman, accompanied by a tall, handsome young -man, issued therefrom. - -Why should I give you the ludicrous details of the explanation? -Andromache was betrothed to Monsieur Hector Chose; but she had never -seen him. Her father, a wealthy naturalist, had gone that day to meet -the bridegroom at a neighboring town. The young lady (who was of a -romantic disposition) had descried me in the park, and had fancied this -was a pre-arranged surprise. She had got up the breakfast in the grotto; -and had made my acquaintance as I have related. I answered to the name -of Hector; she naturally retorted Andromache. This was the whole -explanation of the mistake. I was overwhelmed with shame, when the -father and the real Hector, with vociferous laughter, undeceived me; and -the young lady herself went away in tears of vexation. For a moment, I -hoped that I had produced an ineffaceable impression; but I was soon -undeceived. In my mortification I insulted Hector. A hostile meeting was -the result. I received a severe wound, and lay a long time helpless in a -neighboring hamlet. Still my love was not cured. Even when I heard that -the marriage had been celebrated, I persisted in looking upon the bride -as my Andromache; but when Madame Duclique, her cousin, came to see me, -she destroyed all my illusions. Andromache, she said, though with much -affectation of romance, was a very matter-of-fact personage, and -remembered our love-passage only as a ridiculous mistake. She had -married Hector, not only without repugnance but with delight. He brought -her every thing she desired--a handsome person, a fine fortune, an -exalted position; and she was the first to joke on the subject of "that -poor counterfeit Hector." - -This interview cured me at once. I discovered that I was strong enough -to leave the Paradise I had lost. Madame Duclique, an amiable and -beautiful person, gave me a seat in her carriage, and drove me to the -town of Arques. I feel grateful to my Andromache for having impressed -upon my mind an enduring form of beauty. - -"Let us drink her health!" - - - - -THE VATTEVILLE RUBY. - - -The clock of the church of Besançon had struck nine, when a woman about -fifty years of age, wrapped in a cotton shawl and carrying a small -basket on her arm, knocked at the door of a house in the Rue St. -Vincent, which, however, at the period we refer to, bore the name of Rue -de la Liberté. The door opened. "It is you, Dame Margaret," said the -porter, with a very cross look. "It is high time for you. All my lodgers -have come home long since; you are always the last, and--" - -"That is not my fault, I assure you, my dear M. Thiebaut," said the old -woman in a deprecatory tone. "My day's work is only just finished, and -when work is to be done--" - -"That's all very fine," he muttered. "It might do well enough if I could -even reckon on a Christmas-box at the end of the year; but as it is, I -may count myself well off, if I do but get paid for taking up their -letters." - -The old woman did not hear the last words, for with quick and firm step -she had been making her way up the six flights of stairs, steep enough -to make her head reel had she been ascending them for the first time. -"Nine o'clock!--nine o'clock! How uneasy she must be!" and as she spoke, -she opened with her latch-key the door of a wretched garret, in which -dimly burned a rushlight, whose flickering flame scarcely seemed to -render visible the scanty furniture the room contained. - -"Is that you, my good Margaret," said a feeble and broken voice from the -farther end of the little apartment. - -"Yes, my dear lady; yes, it is I; and very sorry I am to have made you -uneasy. But Madame Lebriton, my worthy employer, is so active herself, -that she always finds the work-woman's day too short--though it is good -twelve hours--and just as I was going to fold up my work, she brought me -a job in a great hurry. I could not refuse her; but this time, I must -own, I got well paid for being obliging, for after I had done, she said -in her most good-natured way: 'Here, you shall take home with you some -of this nice pie, and this bottle of good wine, and have a comfortable -supper with your sister.' So she always calls you, madame," added -Margaret, while complacently glancing at the basket, the contents of -which she now laid out upon the table. "As I believe it is safest for -you, I do not undeceive her, though it is easily known she can not have -looked very close at us, or she might have seen that I could only be the -servant of so noble-looking a lady--" - -The feeble voice interrupted her: "My servant--you my servant! when, -instead of rewarding your services, I allow you to toil for my support, -and to lavish upon me the most tender, the moat devoted affection! My -poor Margaret! you who have undertaken for me at your age, and with your -infirmities, daily and arduous toil, are you not indeed a sister of whom -I may well be proud? Your nobility has a higher origin than mine. -Reduced by political changes, which have left me homeless and penniless, -I owe every thing to you; and so tenderly do you minister to me, that -even in this garret I could still almost fancy myself the noble Abbess -of Vatteville!" - -As she spoke, the aged lady raised herself in her old arm-chair, and -throwing back a black vail, disclosed features still beautiful, and a -forehead still free from every wrinkle, and eyes now sparkling with -something of their former brilliancy. She extended her hand to Margaret, -who affectionately kissed it; and then, apprehensive that further -excitement could not but be injurious to her mistress, the faithful -creature endeavored to divert her thoughts into another channel, by -inviting her to partake of the little feast provided by the kindness of -her employer. Margaret being in the habit of taking her meals in the -house where she worked, the noble Lady Marie Anne Adelaide de Vatteville -was thus usually left alone and unattended, to eat the scanty fare -prescribed by the extreme narrowness of her resources; so that she now -felt quite cheered by the novel comfort, not merely of the better-spread -table, but of the company of her faithful servant; and it was in an -almost mirthful tone she said, when the repast was ended; "Margaret, I -have a secret to confide to you. I will not--I ought not to keep it any -longer to myself." - -"A secret, my dear mistress! a secret from me!" exclaimed the faithful -creature in a slightly reproachful tone. - -"Yes, dear Margaret, a secret from you; but to be so no longer. No more -henceforth of the toils you have undergone for me; they must be given -up: I can not do without you. At my age, to be left alone is -intolerable. When you are not near me, I get so lonely, and sometimes -feel quite afraid, I can not tell of what, but I suppose it is natural -to the old to fear; and often--will you believe it?--I catch myself -weeping like a very child. Ah! when age comes on us, we lose all -strength, all fortitude. But you will not leave me any more? Promise me, -dear Margaret." - -"But in that case what is to become of us?" said Margaret. - -"This is the very thing I have to tell. And now listen to me. Take this -key, and in the right-hand drawer of the press you will find the green -casket, where, among my letters and family papers, you will see a small -case, which bring to me." - -Margaret, not a little surprised, did as she was desired. The abbess -gazed on the case for some moments in silence, and Margaret thought she -saw a tear glisten in her eye as she pressed the box to her lips, and -kissed it tenderly and reverentially. - -"I have sworn," said she, "never to part with it; yet what can I do? It -must be so: it is the will of God." And with a trembling hand, as if -about to commit sacrilege, she opened the case, and drew from it a ruby -of great brilliancy and beauty. "You see this jewel?" she said. -"Margaret, it is the glory of my ancient house; it is the last gem in my -coronet, and more precious in my eyes than any thing in the world. My -grand-uncle, the noblest of men, the Archbishop of Besançon, brought it -from the East; and when, in guerdon for some family service, Louis XIV. -founded the Abbey of Vatteville, and made my grand-aunt the first abbess -of the order, he himself adorned her cross with it. You now know the -value of the jewel to me; and though I can not tell its marketable -value, still, notwithstanding the pressure of the times, I can not but -think it must bring sufficient to secure us, for some time at least, -from want. Were I to consider myself alone, I would starve sooner than -touch the sacred deposit; but to allow you, Margaret, to suffer, and to -suffer for me--to take advantage any longer of your disinterested -affection and devoted fidelity--would be base selfishness. God has at -last taught me that I was but sacrificing you to my pride, and I must -hasten to make atonement. I will endeavor to raise money on this jewel. -You know old M. Simon? Notwithstanding his mean appearance and humble -mode of living, I am persuaded he is a rich man; and though parsimonious -in the extreme, he is good-natured and obliging whenever he can be so -without any risk of loss to himself." - -The next day, in pursuance of her project, the abbess, accompanied by -Margaret, repaired to the house of M. Simon. "I know, sir," she said, -"from your kindness to some friends of mine, that you feel an interest -in the class to which I belong, and that you are incapable of betraying -a confidence reposed in you. I am the Abbess of Vatteville. Driven forth -from the plundered and ruined abbey, I am living in the town under an -assumed name. I have been stripped of every thing; and but for the -self-sacrificing attachment of a faithful servant, I must have died of -want. However, I have still one resource, and only one. I know not if I -am right in availing myself of it, but at my age the power to struggle -fails. Besides, I do not suffer alone; and this consideration decides -me. Will you, then, have the goodness to give me a loan on this jewel?" - -"I believe, madam, you have mistaken me for a pawnbroker. I am not in -the habit of advancing money in this way. I am myself very poor, and -money is now every where scarce. I should be very glad to be able to -oblige you, but just at present it is quite out of the question." - -For a moment the poor abbess felt all hope extinct; but with a last -effort to move his compassion, she said: "Oh, sir, remember that secrecy -is of such importance to me, I dare not apply to any one else. The -privacy, the obscurity in which I live, alone has prevented me from -paying with my blood the penalty attached to a noble name and lineage." - -"But how am I to ascertain the value of the jewel? I am no jeweler; and -I fear, in my ignorance, to wrong either you or myself." - -"I implore you, sir, not to refuse me. I have no alternative but to -starve; for I am too old to work, and beg I can not. Keep the jewel as a -pledge, and give me some relief." - -Old Simon, though covetous, was not devoid of feeling. He was touched by -the tears of the venerable lady; and besides, the more he looked at the -jewel, the more persuaded he became of its being really valuable. After -a few moments' consideration, he said: "All the money I am worth at this -moment is 1500 francs; and though I have my suspicions that I am making -a foolish bargain, I had rather run any risk than leave you in such -distress. The next time I have business in Paris, I can ascertain the -value of the jewel, and if I have given you too little, I will make it -up to you." And with a glad and grateful heart the abbess took home the -1500 francs, thankful at having obtained the means of subsistence for at -least a year. - -Some months later, old Simon went up to Paris, and hastening to one of -the principal jewelers, showed the ruby, and begged to know its value. -The jeweler took the stone carelessly; but after a few moments' -examination of it, he cast a rapid glance at the thread-bare coat and -mean appearance of the possessor, and then abruptly exclaimed: "This -jewel does not belong to you, and you must not leave the house till you -account for its being in your possession. Close the doors," he said to -his foreman, "and send for the police." In vain did Simon protest his -innocence; in vain did he offer every proof of it. The lapidary would -listen to nothing; but at every look he gave the gem, he darted at him a -fresh glance of angry contempt. "You must be a fool as well as a knave," -he said. "Do you know, scoundrel, that this is the Vatteville--the -prince of rubies?--the most splendid, the rarest of gems? It might be -deemed a mere creation of imagination, were it not enrolled and -accurately described in the archives of our art. See here, in the _Guide -des Lapidaires_, a print of it. Mark its antique fashioning, and that -dark spot!--yes, it is indeed the precious ruby so long thought lost. -Rest assured, fellow, you shall not quit the house until you satisfy me -how you have contrived to get possession of it." - -"I should at once have told you, but from unwillingness to endanger the -life of a poor woman who has confided in me. I got the jewel from the -Abbess de Vatteville herself, and it is her last and only resource." And -now M. Simon proved, by unquestionable documents, that notwithstanding -his more than humble appearance, he was a man of wealth and -respectability, and received the apologies which were tendered, together -with assurances that Madame Vatteville's secret was safe with one who, -he begged to say, "knew how to respect misfortune, whenever and however -presented to his notice." - -"But what is the jewel worth?" asked M. Simon. - -"Millions, sir! and neither I nor any one else in the trade here could -purchase it, unless as a joint concern, and in case of a coronation or a -marriage in one of the royal houses of Europe, for such an occasion -alone could make it not a risk to buy it. But, meanwhile, I will, if you -wish, mention it to some of the trade." - -"I am in no hurry," said Simon, almost bewildered by the possession of -such a treasure. "I may as well wait for some such occasion, and, in the -mean time, can make any necessary advances to the abbess. Perhaps I may -call on you again." - -The first day of the year 1795 had just dawned, and there was a thick -and chilling fog. The abbess and her faithful servant felt this day more -than usually depressed, for fifteen months had now elapsed since the -1500 francs had been received for the ruby, and there now remained -provision only for a few days longer. "I have got no answer from M. -Simon," said the abbess; and in giving utterance to her own thought, she -was replying to what was at that moment passing through Margaret's -mind. "I fear he has not been able to get more for the ruby than he -thinks fair interest for the money he advanced to me." - -"It is most likely," said Margaret; and both relapsed into their former -desponding silence. - -"What a dreary New-Year's Day!" resumed Madame de Vatteville, in a -melancholy tone. - -"Oh, why can I not help you, dear mistress?" exclaimed Margaret, -suddenly starting from her reverie. "Cheerfully would I lay down my life -for you!" - -"And why can I not return in any way your devoted attachment, my poor -Margaret?" - -At this instant, two loud and hurried knocks at the door startled them -both from their seats: and it was with a trembling hand Margaret opened -it to admit the old porter, and a servant with a letter in his hand. - -"Thank you, thank you, M. Thiebaut: this letter is for my mistress." But -the inquisitive old man either did not or would not understand -Margaret's hint to him to retire, and Madame de Vatteville was obliged -to tell him to leave the room. - -"Not a penny to bless herself with, though she has come to a better -apartment!" muttered he, enraged at the disappointment to his -curiosity--"and yet as proud as an aristocrat!" - -The abbess approached the casement, broke the seal with trembling hand, -and read as follows: - - "I have at length been able to treat with a merchant for the article - in question, and have, after much difficulty, obtained a sum of - 25,000 francs--far beyond any thing I could have hoped. But the sum - is to be paid in installments, at long intervals. It may therefore - be more convenient for you, under your peculiar circumstances, to - accept the offer I now make of a pension of 1500 francs, to revert - after your decease to the servant whom you mentioned as so devotedly - attached to you. If you are willing to accept this offer, the bearer - will hand you the necessary documents, by which you are to make over - to me all further claim upon the property placed in my hands; and on - your affixing your signature, he will pay you the first year in - advance. - - SIMON." - -"What a worthy, excellent man!" joyfully exclaimed the abbess; for, in -the noble integrity of her heart, she had no suspicion that he could -take advantage of her circumstances. - -However Simon settled the matter with his conscience, the abbess, -trained in the school of adversity to be content with being preserved -from absolute want, passed the remainder of her life quietly and happily -with her good Margaret, both every day invoking blessings on the head of -him whom they regarded as a generous benefactor. Madame de Vatteville -lived to the age of one hundred, and her faithful Margaret survived only -a few months the mistress to whom she had given such affecting proofs of -attachment. - -But Simon's detestable fraud proved of no use to him. After keeping his -treasure for several years, he thought the emperor's coronation -presented a favorable opportunity of disposing of it. Unfortunately for -him, his grasping avarice one morning suggested a thought which his -ignorance prevented his rejecting: "Since this ruby--old-fashioned and -stained as it is--can be worth so much, what would be its value if freed -from all defect, and in modern setting?" And he soon found a lapidary, -who, for a sum of 3000 francs, modernized it, and effaced the spot, and -with it the impress, the stamp of its antiquity--all that gave it value, -beauty, worth! This wanting, no jeweler could recognize it: it was no -longer worth a thousand crowns. - -It was thus that the most splendid ruby in Europe lost its value and its -fame; and its name is now only to be found in _The Lapidaries' Guide_, -as that which had once been the most costly of gems. It seemed as if it -could not survive the last of the illustrious house to which it owed its -introduction into Europe, and its name. - - - - -IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND IN 1851. - -FROM THE LETTERS AND MEMORANDA OF FREDRIKA BREMER. - - -THE CHOLERA IN LONDON. - -It is two years since I first found myself in England. When I was in -England in the autumn of 1849, the cholera was there. A dense, -oppressive atmosphere rested over its cities, as of a cloud pregnant -with lightning. Hearses rolled through the streets. The towns were empty -of people; for all who had the means of doing so had fled into the -country; they who had not were compelled to remain. I saw shadowy -figures, clad in black, stealing along the streets, more like ghosts -than creatures of flesh and blood. Never before had I seen human -wretchedness in such a form as I beheld it in Hull and in London. -Wretchedness enough may be found, God knows, even in Stockholm, and it -shows itself openly enough there in street and market. But it is there -most frequently an undisguised, an unabashed wretchedness. It is not -ashamed to beg, to show its rags or its drunken countenance. It is a -child of crime; and that is perhaps the most extreme wretchedness. But -it is less painful to behold, because it seems to be suffering only its -own deserts. One is more easily satisfied to turn one's head aside, and -pass on. One thinks, "I can not help that!" - -In England, however, misery had another appearance; it was not so much -that of degradation as of want, pallid want. It was meagre and retiring; -it ventured not to look up, or it looked up with a glance of hopeless -beseeching--so spirit-broken! It tried to look respectable. Those men -with coats and hats brushed till the nap was gone; those pale women in -scanty, washed-out, but yet decent clothes--it was a sight which one -could hardly bear. In a solitary walk of ten minutes in the streets of -Hull, I saw ten times more want than I had seen in a ten months' -residence in Denmark. - -The sun shone joyously as I traveled through the manufacturing -districts; saw their groups of towns and suburbs; saw their smoking -pillars and pyramids towering up every where in the wide landscape--saw -glowing gorges of fire open themselves in the earth, as if it were -burning--a splendid and wonderfully picturesque spectacle, reminding one -of fire-worshipers, of ancient and modern times, and of their altars. -But I heard the mournful cry of the children from the factories; the cry -which the public voice has made audible to the world; the cry of the -children, of the little ones who had been compelled, by the lust of gain -of their parents and the manufacturers, to sacrifice life, and joy, and -health in the workshops of machinery; the children who lie down in those -beds which never are cold, the children who are driven and beaten till -they sink insensibly into death or fatuity--that living death; I heard -the wailing cry of the children, which Elizabeth Barrett interpreted in -her affecting poem; and the wealthy manufacturing districts, with their -towns, their fire-columns, their pyramids, seemed to me like an enormous -temple of Moloch, in which the mammon-worshipers of England offered up -even children to the burning arms of their god--children, the hope of -the earth, and its most delicious and most beautiful joy! - -I arrived in London. They told me there was nobody in London. It was not -the season in which the higher classes were in London. Besides which, -the cholera was there; and all well-to-do people, who were able, had -fled from the infected city. And that, indeed, might be the reason why -there seemed to me to be so many out of health--why that pale -countenance of want was so visible. Certain it is, that it became to me -as a Medusa's head, which stood between me and every thing beautiful and -great in that great capital, the rich life and physiognomy of which -would otherwise have enchanted me. But as it was, the palaces, and the -statues, and the noble parks, Hampstead and Piccadilly, and Belgravia -and Westminster, and the Tower, and even the Thames itself, with all its -everchanging life, were no more than the decorations of a great tragedy. -And when, in St. Paul's, I heard the great roar of the voice of -London--that roar which, as it is said, never is silent, but merely -slumbers for an hour between three and four o'clock in the morning--when -I heard that voice in that empty church, where there was no divine -worship, and looked up into its beautiful cupola, which was filled by no -song of praise, but only by that resounding, roaring voice, a dark -chaotic roar, then seemed I to perceive the sound of the rivers of fate -rolling onward through time over falling kingdoms and people, and -bearing them onward down into an immeasurable grave!--It was but for a -moment, but it was a horrible dream! - -One sight I beheld in London which made me look up with rejoicing, which -made me think "that old Ygdrasil is still budding." This was the -so-called metropolitan buildings; a structure of many homes in one great -mass of building, erected by a society of enlightened men for the use of -the poorer working class, to provide respectable families of that class -with excellent dwellings at a reasonable rate, where they might possess -that which is of the most indispensable importance to the rich, as well -as to the poor, if they are to enjoy health both of body and -soul--light, air, and water, pure as God created them for the use of -mankind. The sight of these homes, and of the families that inhabited -them, as well as of the newly-erected extensive public baths and -wash-houses for the same class, together with the assurance that these -institutions already, in the second year of their establishment, -returned more than full interest to their projectors, produced the -happiest impression which I at this time received of England. These were -to me as the seed of the future, which gave the promise of verdant -shoots in the old tree. - -Nevertheless, when I left the shores of England, and saw thick autumnal -fog enveloping them, it was with a sorrowful feeling for the OLD world; -and with an inquiring glance of longing and hope, I turned myself to the -NEW. - -Two years passed on--a sun-bright, glowing dream, full of the vigor of -life!--it was again autumn, and I was again in England. Autumn met me -there with cold, and rain, and tempest, with the most horrible weather -that can be imagined, and such as I had never seen on the other side of -the globe. But in social life, every where throughout the mental -atmosphere, a different spirit prevailed. There, I perceived with -astonishment and joy, there it was that of spring. - -Free-trade had borne fruit, and under its banners manufacture and trade -had shot forth into new life; the price of all kinds of grain had -fallen, bread had become cheap. This tree of liberty, planted by Cobden -and Peel, had, with a strong and vigorous vitality, penetrated, as it -were, the life of the English people, and I heard on every hand the -soughing of its leaves in the free wind. The Crystal Palace was its -full-blown, magnificent blossom--and like swarms of rejoicing bees flew -the human throng upon the wings of steam, backward and forward, to the -great world's blossom; there all the nations met together, there all -manufactures, there all industry, and every kind of product unfolded -their flowers for the observation and the joy of all ... a Cactus -grandiflora, such as the world had never till then seen. - -I perceived more clearly every day of my stay in England, that this -period is one of a general awakening to a new, fresh life. In the -manufacturing districts, in Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, every -where I heard the same conversation among all classes; prosperity was -universal and still advancing. That pale countenance of want, which had -on my first visit appeared to me so appalling, I now no longer saw as -formerly; and even where it was seen stealing along, like a gloomy -shadow near to the tables of abundance, it appeared to me no longer as a -cloud filled with the breath of cholera, darkening the face of heaven, -but rather as one of those clouds over which the wind and sun have -power, and which are swallowed up, which vanish in space, in the bright -ether.... - - -THE RAGGED SCHOOLS. - -In Liverpool I visited the so-called Ragged Schools--the schools where -are collected from the streets vagabond, neglected, and begging -children, who are here taught to read and so on--who here receive the -first rudiments of instruction, even in singing. These schools are, some -of them evening, others day schools, and in some of them, "the -Industrial Ragged Schools," children are kept there altogether; receive -food and clothing, and are taught trades. When the schools of this class -were first established in Liverpool, the number of children who -otherwise had no chance of receiving instruction, amounted to about -twenty thousand. Right-minded, thinking men saw that in these children -were growing up in the streets, those "dangerous classes," of which so -much has been said of late times; these men met together, obtained means -to cover the most necessary outlay of expense, and then, according to -the eloquent words of Lord Ashley, that "it is in childhood that evil -habits are formed and take root; it is childhood which must be guarded -from temptation to crime;" they opened these ragged schools with the -design of receiving the most friendless, the most wretched of society's -young generation--properly, "the children of rags, born in beggary, and -for beggary." - -I visited the Industrial Ragged School for boys, intended for the lowest -grade of these little children, without parents, or abandoned by them to -the influences of crime. There I saw the first class sitting in their -rags, upon benches in a cold room, arranging, with their little -frost-bitten fingers, bristles for the brush-maker. The faces of the -boys were clean; many of them I remarked were handsome, and almost -universally they had beautiful and bright eyes. Those little fingers -moved with extraordinary rapidity; the boys were evidently wishful to do -their best; they knew that they by that means should obtain better -clothing, and would be removed to the upper room, and more amusing -employment. I observed these "dangerous classes"--just gathered up from -the lanes, and the kennels, on their way to destruction; and was -astonished when I thought that their countenances might have borne the -stamp of crime. Bright glances of childhood, for that were you never -designed by the Creator! "Suffer little children to come unto me." These -words, from the lips of heaven, are forever sounding to earth. - -In the upper room a great number of boys were busy pasting paper-bags -for various trades, confectioners, etc., who make use of such in the -rapid sale of their wares; here, also, other boys were employed in -printing upon the bags the names and residences of the various tradesmen -who had ordered them. The work progressed rapidly, and seemed very -amusing to the children. The establishment for their residence, and -their beds, were poor; but all was neat and clean, the air was fresh, -and the children were cheerful. The institution was, however, but yet -in its infancy, and its means were small. - -Half-a-dozen women, in wretched clothes, sate in the entrance-room with -their boys, for whom they hoped to gain admittance into the school, and -were now, therefore, waiting till the directors of the establishment -made their appearance. - - -THE POORER CLASSES. - -A few days later I visited some different classes of poor -people--namely, the wicked and the idle; they who had fallen into want -through their own improvidence, but who had now raised themselves again; -and the estimable, who had honorably combated with unavoidable poverty. -In one certain quarter of Liverpool it is that the first class is -especially met with. Of this class of poor, in their wretched -rooms, with their low, brutalized expression, I will not speak; -companion-pieces to this misery may be met with every where. Most of -those whom I saw were Irish. It was a Sunday noon, after divine service. -The ale-houses were already open in this part of the town, and young -girls and men might be seen talking together before them, or sitting -upon the steps. - -Of the second class I call to mind, with especial pleasure, one little -household. It was a mother and her son. Her means of support, a mangle, -stood in the little room in which she had lived since she had raised -herself up again. It was dinner-time. A table, neatly covered for two -persons, stood in the room, and upon the iron stand before the fire was -placed a dish of mashed potatoes, nicely browned, ready to be set on the -table. The mother was waiting for her son, and the dinner was waiting -for him. He was the organ-blower in the church during divine service, -and he returned while I was still there. He was well dressed, but was a -little, weakly man, and squinted; the mother's eyes, however, regarded -him with love. This son was her only one, and her all. And he, to whom -mother Nature had acted as a step-mother, had a noble mother's heart to -warm himself with, which prepared for him an excellent home, a -well-covered table, and a comfortable bed. That poor little home was not -without its wealth. - -As belonging to the third and highest class, I must mention two -families, both of them shoe-makers, and both of them inhabiting cellars. -The one family consisted of old, the other of young people. The old -shoemaker had to maintain his wife, who was lame and sick, from a fall -in the street, and a daughter. The young one had a young wife, and five -little children to provide for; but work was scanty and the mouths many. -At this house, also, it was dinner-time, and I saw upon the table -nothing but potatoes. The children were clean, and had remarkably -agreeable faces; but--they were pale; so was also the father of the -family. The young and pretty, but very pale mother said, "Since I have -come into this room I have never been well, and this I know--I shall not -live long?" Her eyes filled with tears; and it was plain enough to see -that this really delicate constitution could not long sustain the -effects of the cold damp room, into which no sunbeam entered. These two -families, of the same trade, and alike poor, had become friends in need. -When one of the fathers of the family wanted work, and was informed by -the Home-missionary who visited them that the other had it, the -intelligence seemed a consolation to him. Gladdening sight of human -sympathy, which keeps the head erect and the heart sound under the -depressing struggle against competition! But little gladdening to me -would have been the sight of these families in their cellar-homes, had I -not at the same time been aware of the increase of those "Model -Lodging-houses," which may be met with in many parts of England, and -which will remove these inhabitants of cellars, they who sit in -darkness, into the blessing of the light of life--which will provide -worthy dwellings for worthy people. - - -BEE-HIVES. - -In my imagination Manchester was like a colossal woman sitting at her -spinning-wheel, with her enormous manufactories; her subject towns, -suburbs, villages, factories, lying for many miles round, spinning, -spinning, spinning clothes for all the people on the face of the earth. -And there, as she sate, the queen of the spindle, with her masses of -ugly houses and factories, enveloped in dense rain-clouds, as if in -cobwebs, the effect she made upon me was gloomy and depressing. Yet even -here, also, I was to breathe a more refreshing atmosphere of life; even -here was I also to see light. Free trade had brought hither her -emancipating spirit. It was a time of remarkable activity and -prosperity. The workpeople were fully employed; wages were good, and -food was cheap. Even here also had ragged-schools been established, -together with many institutions for improving the condition of the poor -working-classes. In one of these ragged-schools the boys had a perfectly -organized band of music, in which they played and blew, so that it was a -pleasure--and sometimes a disadvantage to hear them. The lamenting "cry -of the children" was no longer heard from the factories. Government had -put an end to the cruelties and oppressions formerly practiced on these -little ones by the unscrupulous lust of gain. No child under ten years -old can now be employed in the factories, and even such, when employed, -must of necessity be allowed part of the day for school. Every large -factory has now generally its own school, with a paid master for the -children. The boys whom I saw in the great rooms of the factories, and -with whom I conversed, looked both healthy and cheerful. - -Two ideas were impressed upon my mind at this place: how dangerous it -is, even amid a high degree of social culture, to give one class of men -unrestrained power over another; and how easily a free people, with a -powerful public spirit and accustomed to self-government, can raise -themselves out of humiliating circumstances. This spirit has done much -already in England, but it has yet more to do. - -Upon one of those large gloomy factories in Manchester, I read, -inscribed in iron letters, "THE GREAT BEEHIVE;" and in truth a good name -for these enormous hives of human industrial toil, in which people have -sometimes forgotten, and still forget, that man is any thing more than a -working bee, which lives to fill its cell in the hive and die. I visited -several of these huge beehives. In one of them which employed twelve -hundred work-people, I saw, in a large room, above three hundred women -sitting in rows winding cotton on reels. The room was clean, and so also -were all the women. It did not appear to be hard work; but the -steadfastly-fixed attention with which these women pursued their labor -seemed to me distressingly wearisome. They did not allow themselves to -look up, still less to turn their heads or to talk. Their life seemed to -depend upon the cotton thread. - -In another of these great beehives, a long low room, in which were six -hundred power-looms, represented an extraordinary appearance. What a -snatching to and fro, what a jingling, what an incessant stir, and what -a moist atmosphere there was between floor and ceiling, as if the limbs -of some absurd, unheard-of beast, with a thousand arms, had been -galvanized! Around us, from three to four hundred operatives, women and -men, stood among the rapid machinery, watching and tending. The twelve -o'clock bell rung, and now the whole throng of work-people would go -forth to their various mid-day quarters; the greatest number to their -respective dwellings in the neighborhood of the factory. I placed -myself, together with my conductor, in the court outside the door of the -room, which was on lower ground, in order that I might have a better -view of the work-people as they came out. - -Just as one sees bees coming out of a hive into the air, two, three, or -four at a time--pause, as it were, a moment from the effects of open air -and light, and then with a low hum, dart forth into space, each one his -own way; so was it in this case. Thus came they forth, men and women, -youths and girls. The greater number were well dressed, looked healthy, -and full of spirit. In many, however, might be seen the expression of a -rude life; they bore the traces of depravity about them. - - -THE ROYAL FAMILY. - -The Queen and her husband stand before the people as the personation of -every domestic and public virtue! The Queen is an excellent wife and -mother; she attends to the education of her children, and fulfills her -duties as sovereign, alike conscientiously. She is an early riser; is -punctual and regular in great as well as in small things. She pays ready -money for all that she purchases, and never is in debt to any one. Her -court is remarkable for its good and beautiful morals. On their estate, -she and Prince Albert carry every thing out in the best manner, -establish schools and institutions for the good of the poor; these -institutions and arrangements of theirs serve as examples to every one. -Their uprightness, kindness, generosity, and the tact which they under -all circumstances display, win the heart of the nation. They show a -warm sympathy for the great interests of the people, and by this very -sympathy are they promoted. Of this, the successful carrying out of free -trade, and the Exhibition in the Crystal Palace, projected in the first -instance by Prince Albert, and powerfully seconded by the Queen, furnish -brilliant examples. The sympathies of the Queen are those of the heart -as well as of the head. When that noble statesman, the great promoter of -free-trade, Sir Robert Peel, died, the Queen shut herself in for several -days, and wept for him as if she had lost a father. And whenever a warm -sympathy is called forth, either in public or in private affairs it is -warmly and fully participated by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. That -which the English people require from their rulers, is not merely formal -government, but a living interest in their affairs. - - -BIRMINGHAM AND THE CHARTISTS. - -From Manchester I traveled to Birmingham. I saw again the land of the -fire-worshipers, their smoking altars, in tall columns and pyramids, -towering above the green fields; saw again the burning gulfs yawning in -the earth, and--saw them now with unmixed pleasure. I heard no longer, -amid their boiling roar, the lamenting cry of the children; I heard and -saw them now only as the organs of the public prosperity, and rejoiced -over them as proofs of man's power over fire and water, over all the -powers of nature; the victory of the gods over the giants! - -The sun burst forth from between rain-clouds as I arrived in Birmingham, -England's--nay, the world's--workshop of steel-pens, nails, steel, tin, -and brass wares of all kinds. - -If Manchester is a colossal woman at her spinning-wheel, then is -Birmingham a colossal smith. - -In Birmingham I visited a steel-pen manufactory, and followed from room -to room the whole process of those small metal tongues which go abroad -over all the world and do so much--evil, and so much good; so much that -is great, so much that is small; so much that is important, so much that -is trivial. I saw four hundred young girls sitting in large, light -rooms, each with her little pen-stamp, employed in a dexterous and easy -work, especially fitted for women. All were well dressed, seemed healthy -and cheerful, many were pretty; upon the whole, it was a spectacle of -prosperity which surpassed even that of the mill-girls in the celebrated -factories of Lowell in North America. - -Birmingham was at this time in a most flourishing condition, and had -more orders for goods than it could supply, nor were there any male -paupers to be found in the town; there was full employment for all. - -In Birmingham I saw a large school of design. Not less than two hundred -young female artists studied here in a magnificent hall or rotunda, -abundantly supplied with models of all kinds, and during certain hours -in the week exclusively opened to these female votaries of art. A -clever, respectable old woman, the porter of the school-house, spoke of -many of these with especial pleasure, as if she prided herself on them -in some degree. - -I saw in Birmingham a beautiful park, with hot-houses, in which were -tropical plants, open to the public; saw also a large concert-room, -where twice in the week "glees" were sung, and to which the public were -admitted at a low price: all republican institutions, and which seem to -prosper more in a monarchical realm than in republics themselves. - -From Birmingham I had determined to go for a few days to -Stratford-on-Avon, before I went to London in order to secure a view of -the Great Exhibition, the last week of which was at hand. I was, -therefore, obliged to leave the manufacturing districts earlier than I -wished; but before quitting them on paper, I must say a few words on -their population, on their artisans, etc. - -These belong almost entirely to the class of what are called Chartists; -that is, advocates of universal suffrage. They are this, through good -and through evil; and the resistance which their just desire to be more -fully represented in the legislative body, has met with from that body, -has brought them more and more into collision with the power of the -state, more and more to base their demands in opposition, even to the -higher principles of justice: for they overlook the duty of rendering -themselves worthy of the franchise by sound education. But the fault -here, in the first place, was not theirs. Growing up amid machinery and -the hum of labor, without schools, without religious or moral worth; -hardened by hard labor, in continual fight with the difficulties of -life, they have moulded themselves into a spirit little in harmony with -life's higher educational influences, the blessings of which they had -never experienced. Atheism, radicalism, republicanism, socialism of all -kinds will and must nourish here in concealment among the strong and -daily augmenting masses of a population, restrained only by the fear of -the still more mighty powers which may be turned against them, and by -labor for their daily needs, so long as those powers are sufficing. And -perhaps the American slave-states are right when they say, in reference -to this condition of things, "England lies at our feet--England can not -do without our cotton. If the manufacturers of England must come to a -stand, then has she a popular convulsion at her door." Perhaps it may be -so; for these hosts of manufacturing workmen, neglected in the beginning -by society, neglected by church and state, look upon them merely as -exacting and despotic powers; and in strict opposition to them, they -have banded together, and established schools for their own children, -where only the elements of practical science are admitted, and from -which religious and moral instruction are strictly excluded. In truth, a -volcanic foundation for society, and which now, for some time past, has -powerfully arrested the attention of the most thinking men of England. - -But into the midst of this menacing chaos light has already begun to -penetrate with an organizing power; and over the dark profound hovers a -spirit which can and will divide the darkness from the light, and -prepare a new creation. - -I sought the manufacturing towns from a sense of duty, and the commands -of conscience. I was anxious to see this side of human life. But this -done, I thought I might do something for my own pleasure. I was in -England chiefly for this purpose. I must follow the impulse of my heart; -I must make a pilgrimage to the grave of Shakspeare. For the older I -have become, the more that I have lived and learned, the more valuable -have two good artists become to me--the more have I had to -thank--Beethoven and Shakspeare. - -From Birmingham I traveled, on the morning of the fourth of October, by -the railway to Leamington, and thence, alone in a little carriage, to -Stratford-on-Avon. - - - - -TRUE COURAGE.--A TALE OF TATTERSHALL CASTLE. - - -In the summer vacation of 183-, a party of gay young collegians visited -Tattershall Castle, in Lincolnshire. This remarkably noble ruin consists -of a single lofty keep, rising to the height of two hundred feet, the -interior being open from summit to basement. Mighty oaken beams once, -however, spanned the massive walls, supporting floors which formed -stories of varying height. Many of these beams have fallen to the -basement, completely rotten, through shameful exposure to the weather -ever since the roof crumbled away; others still pertinaciously hang, -more or less broken and decayed, but, in a majority of instances, seem -as if a strong gust of eddying wind would send them down crashing, to -mingle their fragments with those already mouldering below. - -The party were in high spirits. They had drunk old wines, and their -young blood flowed hotly in their veins; they had laughed, joked, and -talked themselves into wild excitement. About half way up to the castle -turrets there is a sort of open landing, which goes along one wall of -the structure; and on to this landing the party stepped from the grand -spiral staircase they had hitherto been ascending, and there paused a -moment to look about them. The scene was striking. A few beams sprung -across just below their feet; a few thick-moted rays of sun pierced -through the adjoining loop-holes; a few fleecy cloudlets flitted athwart -the blue ether high overhead. Startled by the noisy visitors, a number -of dusky jackdaws flew out of their holes up and down the walls, and, -after chattering their decided disapprobation of being disturbed, made -half-a-dozen whirling circuits of the interior, rising rapidly upward, -until they disappeared. - -Immediately afterward, a great white owl projected its visage from a -hole close above where one of the beams joined the opposite wall, and, -frightedly peering with its great dazzled eyes, the harmless creature -bewilderedly popped from its hole on to the beam, and having made a few -feeble flutterings with its wings, remained quite stationary, crouched -in a ball-like figure, close to the wall. - -"Oh, Deschamp," exclaimed one of the party to a friend at his side, who -was plucking the long gray moss of a peculiar species, which literally -clothes the castle walls inside and out, "look yonder at Minerva's -bird." - -"Ha! ha!" chorused the company--"a veritable owl!" - -Thereupon one and all began picking up bits of brick and mortar from -where they stood, and threw them at the bird with various degrees of -skill. One or two bits even struck it, but so far from being roused -thereby, the owl merely gave one boding, long-drawn, sepulchral screech, -and, contracting its ghastly outline into still smaller compass, fairly -buried its broad visage between the meeting bony tips of its wings. - -"What a stupid creature! hoo! horoo!" shouted they, thinking by that -means to induce it to fly. But the outcry only terrified the bird to -such a degree, that it stuck its claws convulsively into the decayed -timber, and stirred not at all. - -"It's the way o' them creeturs," here said the guide, who was showing -the party over the castle; "they're about the stupidest things in -creation, I'm a thinking!" - -"Humph!" muttered Lord Swindon, a handsome, athletic young man of -twenty, "with such an example before our eyes, we can not but admit your -opinion to be highly philosophic and indisputable. But I say, old -fellow," added he, tapping the guide familiarly on the shoulder with the -light riding switch he carried in his hand, "is _that_ beam a rotten -one?" - -"_I_ shouldn't be over-for'ard to trust myself on it, sir," replied the -man--a fat dumpy personage. - -"_You_ wouldn't! No. I should rather think not," responded Lord Swindon, -a smile of supreme disdain sweeping across his features, as he surveyed -the "old fellow" from head to foot. "But, tell me, did you ever know -_any body_ walk upon it, eh?" - -"Oh, dear, yes. Only last summer, a young Oxonian ran from end to end of -it, as I seed with my own eyes." - -"Did he?" - -"True," put in Deschamp. "I remember now, it was young Manners of -Brazennose; and didn't he brag about it!" - -"Him!" exclaimed Lord Swindon, with a toss of the head; "that fellow, -poor milksop? Not," continued he, hastily, "that it is any thing of a -feat. Pooh!" - -"Not a feat!" murmured his companions; and, with one accord, they -stretched forth their necks, and, gazing down the dim abyss, shuddered -at what they beheld. Well they might. The beam in question rose at a -height of about one hundred feet, and naught beneath it was there but a -gloomy chasm, only broken in one or two places by crumbling beams, and -not one even of these was by many feet near it. "Oh, Swindon, how can -you say so?" - -"I can say it, and I do," snappishly replied the fiery young man, his -brain heated with wine; "and, at any rate, what that fellow Manners has -done, I can do. So look out!" - -Thus speaking, he recklessly stepped on the beam, and, despite the -remonstrances of his companions, was in the act of proceeding along it, -when his arm was firmly grasped, and a low, deep-toned voice exclaimed, -"My lord, do you court a horrible death? Do not thus risk your life for -naught." - -The individual who thus unhesitatingly interfered was evidently unknown -to all present, being a casual visitor to the castle, who had just -joined the group. With an imprecation, the madcap youngster jerked his -arm away, and sprang forward along the beam. Its surface was rough, -rounded, and uneven; and as he ran along, swerving from side to side, -every instant in danger of being precipitated downward, with the awful -certainty of being dashed to pieces, his friends could hardly restrain -themselves from shrieking with terror, though such a course would -probably have had the immediate effect of discomposing the equilibrium -of their rash companion, and so inducing the catastrophe they fully -anticipated, without the power of prevention. Had the adventurer's -presence of mind one moment failed--had his self-possession and -confidence wavered or forsaken him--had his brain sickened, or his eyes -turned dim for a single second--had he made the least false step--had -his footing slipped on the slimy surface of the beam--had he tripped -against any of the knots projecting from the rotten wood which had -mouldered away around them--at once would he have been hurled into dread -eternity. - -But an unseen hand sustained him, and safely he reached the extremity of -the beam, ruthlessly wrenched the trembling owl from its perch, waved it -aloft in triumph, and then, with a proud ejaculation, began to retrace -his steps, with it shrieking and fluttering in his hands. When he -reached the centre of the frail beam, which creaked and bent terribly -with his comparatively small weight, he paused, drew himself up to his -full height--air above, air beneath, air all around, naught but air--and -deliberately tore the head of the owl by main force from its body. -Having perpetrated this cruel deed, he tossed the bloody head among the -breathless spectators, and sharply dashed the writhing body into the -void beneath his feet. He coolly watched its descent, until it lay a -shapeless mass on the stones below; then, with slow, bravadoing mien, he -walked back to his terrified party, and boastingly demanded of them -whether they thought "Manners could beat that?" - -"My lord," solemnly said the stranger, "you have not performed the act -either of a brave or a sane man, and you have committed a despicable -deed on one of God's helpless creatures. You ought to thank Him, my -lord, from the depth of your soul, that he saved you from the penalty -you incurred." - -"What do you say?" fiercely demanded Lord Swindon. "Do you dare to -insinuate cowardice against me?" and with flashing brow, he assumed a -threatening attitude. - -"I know not, my lord, whether you are brave or not, but what I have -witnessed was certainly not an exercise of true courage," was the -passionless reply. - -"And yet I'll wager a cool thousand that you daren't do it." - -"True, I dare not: for I am incapable of offering a deadly insult to my -Maker." - -"Fine words!" Then, carried away by the excitement of the moment, he -added, with an insolent look and gesture, "You are a lying coward." - -"Listen, my lord," answered the person thus addressed, and this time his -tone was even calmer than before. "One year ago, you were walking at the -midnight hour on the pier at the sea-port of Hull, and but one other -person was upon it, and he was a stranger to you. You trod too near the -edge of the pier, and fell into the sea. The tempest was howling, and -the tide was high and running strongly; and, ere you could utter more -than one smothered cry, it had swept you many yards away, and you were -sinking rapidly. Except God, none but that stranger heard your cry of -agony; and, soon as it reached his ear, he looked forth upon the waters, -and, catching a glimpse of your struggling form, he instantly plunged -in, and, after much diving, eventually grasped you at a great depth. -Long did he support your helpless body, and stoutly did he buffet the -stifling waves, and loudly did he call for aid. At length help came; and -at the last moment, he and you were saved just in time for life to be -preserved in both. Is not this true, my lord?" - -"It is," emphatically responded the young nobleman; "but what have you -to do with it? I don't know you--though it is not at all wonderful," -added he, with a sneer, "that you should happen to know about the -matter, for the newspapers blazoned it quite sufficiently." - -"My lord, one question more. Did you ever learn who that stranger was -who, under God, saved your life?" - -"No; when I recovered a little, he left me at the hotel, where he was -unknown, and I have never seen him since." - -"Then, my lord," was the startling rejoinder, "look well at me, for I am -that stranger." - -"You?" - -"Yes--I whom you have branded as a liar and a coward. Little thought I -that the life I saved at the imminent risk of my own would be madly, -wickedly jeopardized for no price whatever, as I have seen it this hour. -Mine, my lord, was true courage; yours was false. Henceforth know the -difference between them. Farewell." - -So saying, the stranger bowed, and before another word could be uttered, -had left the astounded party. - - - - -INTRODUCTION OF THE POTATO INTO FRANCE. - - -In that rational estimate of true greatness which men are daily becoming -more inclined to form, names will yet rank high as those of the -benefactors of mankind, which history has too long suffered to give -place to those of heroes (so called), who might be better designated as -the destroyers of national prosperity, the scourges of their country. -Among the names of such benefactors, that of Antoine-Augustin Parmentier -well deserves to be handed down to the gratitude of posterity. He was -born in the little town of Montdidier, in 1737, of poor but respectable -parents; and, having lost his father before he was three years old, he -was brought up altogether by his mother, a woman of considerable -intelligence, and in refinement of character far beyond her station; and -to her he owed much of that religious feeling and steadiness of -principle which stamped such value in after-life upon the ardent -disposition and spirit of enterprise which were natural to him. The good -curé of the place, who had long known and esteemed his parents, had an -opportunity of observing the uncommon intelligence of the boy, and -undertook to teach him the rudiments of Latin. At sixteen, the young -Augustin, anxious to be no longer a burden to his mother, placed himself -with an apothecary of his native town; but the following year he -repaired to Paris, invited thither by a relative, to study under him the -profession he had chosen. - -It was not long before prospects of advancement opened to the young -medical student. The war of Hanover broke out, and, in 1757, Parmentier, -attached to the medical staff, though in a very subordinate post, joined -the army. It was not long before he had opportunity to prove his skill -and zealous devotion to his duties. A dreadful epidemic appeared among -the French soldiery, and tested to the utmost his unwearied activity and -unceasing attention to his duties. His services were acknowledged by his -being promoted to the rank of assistant-apothecary. His dauntless -exposure of himself on the field of battle caused him to be five times -taken prisoner--a misfortune to which he afterward often made mirthful -allusion; extolling the dexterity with which the Prussian hussars had -more than once stripped him, and declaring that they were the best -valets de chambre he had ever met. - -It was while prisoner of war on one of these occasions that Parmentier -first conceived the idea which was destined to give him a claim upon the -gratitude of his country. The prisoners were kept in very close -confinement, and fed altogether on potatoes; but Parmentier, instead of -joining his companions in misfortune in their indignant abuse of a food -altogether new to them, was calmly and sensibly engaged in reflecting on -the utility of the vegetable, and in inquiring into its nature, and the -mode of cultivating it. We shall see how he kept the resolution he then -formed of not letting it escape his memory, should he ever be permitted -to revisit his native country. - -Peace being declared, he was released, and came back to Paris in 1763, -where he attended the Abbe Mollet's course of natural philosophy, the -chemical course of the Brothers Douille, and the botanical lectures of -the celebrated Bernard de Jussieu. At this time, however, his poverty -was so great, that he had to endure the severest privations, to enable -him to pay the necessary fees, and to purchase such books as he -required, without interfering with the pecuniary aid which he felt it -alike his duty and his privilege to afford his mother. In 1766, he -became a candidate for a situation as medical attendant at the Hotel des -Invalides, and was almost unanimously elected. In this position, he gave -the utmost satisfaction; and not only did the skill he displayed obtain -for him professional reputation, but his playful, yet never satirical -wit, and the charm of his gentle and affectionate disposition, made him -a universal favorite. He was the object of respectful attachment to the -disabled veterans, and also to the good Sisters of Charity who attended -the hospital. In 1769, he received, as the reward of his labors, the -appointment of apothecary-in-chief, which permanently fixed him in the -Hotel des Invalides. With a little more leisure, and comparative freedom -from pecuniary care, came back the recollection of his former plans with -regard to the potato. This now well-known and almost universally-used -tubercle had been introduced into Europe from Peru early in the -sixteenth century, and had at once been cultivated in Italy and Germany. -Brought from Flanders into France, its culture was promoted in the -southern provinces by the encouragement given by the great Turgot; but -the dogged pertinacity with which ignorance so often resists the -introduction of any thing new, had in every other part of the kingdom -interfered with its propagation. Indeed, the popular prejudice against -it was so high as to lead to the belief that it had a baleful effect on -any soil in which it was planted, and produced in those who used it as -food leprosy and other loathsome diseases. Such were the absurd and -groundless prejudices which Parmentier had to encounter, but he prepared -himself to carry on the contest with the boldness and perseverance of -one who knew that, however difficult it may be to struggle with old -opinions and long-established customs, yet nothing is impossible to the -spirit of enterprise, guided by sound judgment, and animated by genuine -philanthropy. Parmentier was not unmindful that to attain his object he -would, in the first instance, need high patronage; and this patronage he -sought and found in no less a personage than Louis XVI. himself. At his -earnest solicitation, the monarch placed at his disposal, as a field for -his experiment, fifty acres of the Plaine des Sablons. For the first -time, this sterile soil was tilled by Parmentier, and the plant he so -ardently desired to naturalize committed to it. In due time the -long-wished-for blossoms appeared. Almost wondering at his success, -Parmentier eagerly gathered a bouquet of the flowers, more precious to -him than the rarest exotic in the royal gardens, and hastened to -Versailles, to present them to the king. Louis accepted the offering -most graciously, and, notwithstanding the satirical smiles of some of -his courtiers, wore them in his button-hole. - -From that hour the triumph of the potato was secured. The nobles and -fine ladies, who had hitherto laughed at what they called "the poor -man's monomania," now took their tone from the monarch, and flocked -round the modest philanthropist with their congratulations. Guards -placed round the field excited the curiosity of the people; but as this -was a precaution rather against the pressure of the crowd than against -its cupidity, they were withdrawn at night, and soon it was announced to -Parmentier that his potatoes had been stolen. His delight at this -intelligence was extreme, and he bountifully rewarded the bearer of the -news; for he saw in this theft a proof of his complete success. "There -can scarcely be any remaining prejudice against my poor potatoes," he -said, "else they would not be stolen." A short time after he gave a -dinner, every dish of which consisted of the potato disguised in some -variety of form, and even the liquids used at table were extracted from -it. Among other celebrated persons, Franklin and Lavoisier were present. -And thus, to the persevering efforts of one individual was France -indebted for a vegetable which soon took its place in the first rank of -its agricultural treasures. By naturalizing the potato in that country, -Parmentier diffused plenty among thousands, once the hapless victims of -privation and misery during the seasons of scarcity hitherto frequently -recurring to desolate its provinces. - -From 1783 to 1791, Parmentier occupied himself in the publication of -several works of great merit upon domestic economy and agriculture. But -now came on the evil days of the Revolution. From prudence, natural -inclination, and engrossment in other pursuits, Parmentier took no part -in the political storm then raging. His moderation was regarded as a -protest against the principles then in the ascendant. The man who had -just rendered the most signal service to the people became an object of -persecution to those calling themselves the friends of the people. "Talk -not to me of this Parmentier," said an infuriate club orator; "he would -give us nothing to eat but potatoes. I ask you, was it not he that -invented them?" His name was put into the list of the suspected, and he -was deprived not only of the small pension allowed him by Louis XVI., -but also of his situation at the Hotel des Invalides. However, when the -coalition of all Europe forced France to avail herself to the utmost of -her every resource, it was found expedient to reorganize the medical -department of the military hospitals, and to improve the diet of the -soldiery; and Parmentier being fixed on for this difficult task, his -success amply justified the choice. His reputation for skill and talent -increasing with every test to which he was put, he was successively -placed on the sanitary commission for the department of the Seine, and -on the general committee of civil hospitals. Diplomas were sent to him -by all the learned societies, and he was enrolled a member of the -National Institute. - -Parmentier lived throughout the period of the Empire, honored and -esteemed by all classes; but, in 1813, grief for the loss of a beloved -sister added to his deep dejection at the reverses of the French arms, -seriously affected his health. His patriotism could not but deeply feel -the evils threatening his country from foreign invasion. He became -dangerously ill, and on the 13th of December the cause of social -progress lost by his death one of its most zealous and enlightened -promoters. In a discourse pronounced on the occasion before the -Pharmaceutic Association, Cadet de Gassicour dwelt principally on the -two great benefits conferred by Parmentier--the use of the potato, and -the introduction of the Sirop de Raisin, thus providing, according to -the benevolent boast of the philanthropist himself, "the poor man's -bread, and the poor man's sugar." During his lifetime, a proposal had -been made by the Minister François de Neufchateau that the potato should -be called _Parmentière_. It is to be regretted that a proposal which -would have secured a memorial as inexpensive as it was appropriate, was -rejected; one which would have indissolubly linked in the minds of every -Frenchman the name of the benefactor with the benefit. - - - - -THE ARTIST'S SACRIFICE. - - -On a cold evening in January--one of those dark and gloomy evenings -which fill one with sadness--there sat watching by the bed of a sick -man, in a little room on the fifth floor, a woman of about forty, and -two pretty children--a boy of twelve and a little girl of eight. The -exquisite neatness of the room almost concealed its wretchedness: every -thing announced order and economy, but at the same time great poverty. A -painted wooden bedstead, covered with coarse but clean calico sheets, -blue calico curtains, four chairs, a straw arm-chair, a high desk of -dark wood, with a few books and boxes placed on shelves, composed the -entire furniture of the room. And yet the man who lay on that wretched -bed, whose pallid cheek, and harsh, incessant cough, foretold the -approach of death, was one of the brightest ornaments of our literature. -His historical works had won for him a European celebrity, his writings -having been translated into all the modern languages; yet he had always -remained poor, because his devotion to science had prevented him from -devoting a sufficient portion of his time to productive labor. - -An unfinished piece of costly embroidery thrown on a little stand near -the bed, another piece of a less costly kind, but yet too luxurious to -be intended for the use of this poor family, showed that his wife and -daughter--this gentle child, whose large dark eyes were so full of -sadness--endeavored by the work of their hands to make up for the -unproductiveness of his efforts. The sick man slept, and the mother, -taking away the lamp and the pieces of embroidery, went with her -children into the adjoining room, which served both as ante-chamber and -dining-room: she seated herself at the table, and took up her work with -a sad and abstracted air; then observing her little daughter doing the -same thing cheerfully, and her son industriously coloring some prints -destined for a book of fashions, she embraced them; and raising her -tearful eyes toward heaven, she seemed to be thanking the Almighty, and, -in the midst of her affliction, to be filled with gratitude to Him who -had blessed her with such children. - -Soon after, a gentle ring was heard at the door, and M. Raymond, a young -doctor, with a frank, pleasing countenance, entered and inquired for the -invalid. - -"Just the same, doctor," said Madame G----. - -The young man went into the next room, and gazed for some moments -attentively on the sleeper, while the poor wife fixed her eyes on the -doctor's countenance, and seemed there to read her fate. - -"Is there no hope, doctor?" she asked, in a choking voice, as she -conducted him to the other room. The doctor was silent, and the -afflicted mother embraced her children and wept. After a pause, she -said: "There is one idea which haunts me continually: I should wish so -much to have my husband's likeness. Do you know of any generous and -clever artist, doctor? Oh, how much this would add to the many -obligations you have already laid me under!" - -"Unfortunately, I am not acquainted with a single artist," replied the -young doctor. - -"I must then renounce this desire," said Madame G----, sighing. - -The next morning Henry--so the little boy was called--having assisted -his mother and his sister Marie in their household labors, dressed -himself carefully, and, as it was a holiday, asked leave to go out. - -"Go, my child," said his mother; "go and breathe a little fresh air: -your continual work is injurious to you." - -The boy kissed his father's wasted hand, embraced his mother and sister, -and went out, at once sad and pleased. When he reached the street -he hesitated for a moment, then directed his steps toward the -drawing-school where he attended every day: he entered, and rung at the -door of the apartment belonging to the professor who directed this -academy. A servant opened the door, and conducted him into an -elegantly-furnished breakfast-room; for the professor was one of the -richest and most distinguished painters of the day. He was breakfasting -alone with his wife when Henry entered. - -"There, my dear," he said to her, as he perceived Henry; "there is the -cleverest pupil in the academy. This little fellow really promises to do -me great credit one day. Well, my little friend, what do you wish to say -to me?" - -"Sir, my father is very ill--the doctor fears that he may die: poor -mamma, who is very fond of papa, wishes to have his portrait. Would you, -sir, be kind enough to take it? O do not, pray sir, do not refuse me!" -said Henry, whose tearful eyes were fixed imploringly on the artist. - -"Impossible, Henry--impossible!" replied the painter. "I am paid three -thousand francs for every portrait I paint, and I have five or six at -present to finish." - -"But, my dear," interposed his wife, "it seems to me that this portrait -would take you but little time: think of the poor mother, whose husband -will so soon be lost to her forever." - -"It grieves me to refuse you, my dear; but you know that my -battle-piece, which is destined for Versailles, must be sent to the -Louvre in a fortnight, for I can not miss the Exposition this year. But -stay, my little friend, I will give you the address of several of my -pupils: tell them I sent you, and you will certainly find some one of -them who will do what you wish. Good-morning, Henry!" - -"Good-by, my little friend," added the lady. "I hope you may be -successful." The boy took his leave with a bursting heart. - -Henry wandered through the gardens of the Luxembourg, debating with -himself if he should apply to the young artists whose addresses he held -in his hand. Fearing that his new efforts might be equally unsuccessful, -he was trying to nerve himself to encounter fresh refusals, when he was -accosted by a boy of his own age, his fellow-student at the -drawing-school. Jules proposed that they should walk together; then -observing Henry's sadness, he asked him the cause. Henry told him of his -mother's desire; their master's refusal to take the portrait; and of his -own dislike to apply to those young artists, who were strangers to him. - -"Come with me," cried Jules, when his friend had ceased speaking. "My -sister is also an artist: she has always taken care of me, for our -father and mother died when we were both very young. She is so kind and -so fond of me, that I am very sure she will not refuse." - -The two boys traversed the Avenue de l'Observatoire, the merry, joyous -face of the one contrasting with the sadness and anxiety of the other. -When they got to the end of the avenue they entered the Rue de l'Ouest, -and went into a quiet-looking house, up to the fourth story of which -Jules mounted with rapid steps, dragging poor Henry with him. He tapped -gayly at a little door, which a young servant opened: he passed through -the ante-chamber, and the two boys found themselves in the presence of -Emily d'Orbe, the sister of Jules. - -She appeared to be about twenty-five: she was not tall, and her face was -rather pleasing than handsome; yet her whole appearance indicated -cultivation and amiability. Her dress was simple, but exquisitely neat; -her gown of brown stuff fitted well to her graceful figure; her linen -cuffs and collar were of a snowy whiteness; her hair was parted in -front, and fastened up behind _à l'antique_: but she wore no ribbon, no -ornament--nothing but what was necessary. The furniture of the room, -which served at the same time as a sitting-room and studio, was equally -simple: a little divan, some chairs, and two arm-chairs covered with -gray cloth, a round table, a black marble time-piece of the simplest -form; two engravings, the "Spasimo di Sicilia" and the "Three Maries," -alone ornamented the walls; green blinds were placed over the windows, -not for ornament, but to moderate the light, according to the desire of -the artist; finally, three easels, on which rested some unfinished -portraits, and a large painting representing Anna Boleyn embracing her -daughter before going to execution. - -When he entered, little Jules went first to embrace his sister; she -tenderly returned his caresses, then said to him in a gentle voice, as -she returned to her easel: "Now, my dear child, let me go on with my -painting;" not, however, without addressing a friendly "Good-morning" to -Henry, who, she thought, had come to play with Jules. - -Henry had been looking at the unfinished pictures with a sort of terror, -because they appeared to him as obstacles between him and his request. -He dared not speak, fearing to hear again the terrible word -"impossible!" and he was going away, when Jules took him by the hand and -drew him toward Emily. "Sister," he said, "I have brought my friend -Henry to see you; he wishes to ask you something; do speak to him." - -"Jules," she replied, "let me paint; you know I have very little time. -You are playing the spoiled child: you abuse my indulgence." - -"Indeed, Emily, I am not jesting; you must really speak to Henry. If you -knew how unhappy he is!" - -Mademoiselle d'Orbe, raising her eyes to the boy, was struck with his -pale and anxious face, and said to him in a kind voice, as she continued -her painting: "Forgive my rudeness, my little friend; this picture is to -be sent to the Exposition, and I have not a moment to lose, because, -both for my brother's sake and my own, I wish it to do me credit. But -speak, my child; speak without fear, and be assured that I will not -refuse you any thing that is in the power of a poor artist." - -Henry, regaining a little courage, told her what he desired: then Jules, -having related his friend's visit to their master, Henry added; "But I -see very well, mademoiselle, that you can not do this portrait either, -and I am sorry to have disturbed you." - -In the mean time little Jules had been kissing his sister, and caressing -her soft hair, entreating her not to refuse his little friend's request. -Mademoiselle d'Orbe was painting Anna Boleyn: she stopped her work; a -struggle seemed to arise in the depth of her heart, while she looked -affectionately on the children. She, however, soon laid aside her -pallet, and casting one glance of regret on her picture: "I will take -your father's portrait," she said to Henry---"that man of sorrow and of -genius. Your mother's wish shall be fulfilled." - -She had scarcely uttered these words when a lady entered the room. She -was young, pretty, and richly dressed. Having announced her name, she -asked Mademoiselle d'Orbe to take her portrait, on the express condition -that it should be finished in time to be placed in the Exposition. - -"It is impossible for me to have this honor, madame," replied the -artist: "I have a picture to finish, and I have just promised to do a -portrait to which I must give all my spare time." - -"You would have been well paid for my portrait, and my name in the -catalogue would have made yours known," added the young countess. - -Mademoiselle d'Orbe only replied by a bow; and the lady had scarcely -withdrawn, when, taking her bonnet and shawl, the young artist embraced -her brother, took Henry by the hand, and said to him: "Bring me to your -mother, my child." - -Henry flew rather than walked; Mademoiselle d'Orbe could with difficulty -keep up with him. Both ascended to the fifth story in the house in the -Rue Descartes, where this poor family lived. When they reached the door, -Henry tapped softly at it. Madame G---- opened it. - -"Mamma," said the boy, trembling with emotion, "this lady is an artist: -she is come to take papa's portrait." The poor woman, who had not hoped -for such an unexpected happiness, wept as she pressed to her lips the -hands of Mademoiselle d'Orbe, and could not find words to express her -gratitude. - -The portrait was commenced at once; and the young artist worked with -zeal and devotion, for her admiration of the gifted and unfortunate man -was intense. She resolved to make the piece valuable as a work of art, -for posterity might one day demand the portrait of this gifted man, and -her duty as a painter was to represent him in his noblest aspect. - -Long sittings fatigued the invalid; so it was resolved to take two each -day, and the young artist came regularly twice every day. As by degrees -the strength of the sick man declined, the portrait advanced. At length, -at the end of twelve days, it was finished: this was about a week before -the death of M. G----. - -At the same time that she was painting this portrait, Mademoiselle -d'Orbe worked with ardor on her large painting, always hoping to have it -ready in time. This hope did not fail her, until some days before the -1st of February. There was but a week longer to work: and this year she -must abandon the idea of sending to the Exposition. - -Some artists who had seen her picture had encouraged her very much; she -could count, in their opinion, on brilliant success. This she desired -with all her heart: first, from that noble thirst of glory which God has -implanted in the souls of artists; and, secondly, from the influence it -would have on the prospects of her little Jules, whom she loved with a -mother's tenderness, and whom she wished to be able to endow with all -the treasures of education. This disappointment, these long hours of -toil, rendered so vain at the very moment when she looked forward to -receive her reward, so depressed the young artist, that she became -dangerously ill. - -Mademoiselle d'Orbe had very few friends, as she was an orphan, and -lived in great retirement; she found herself, therefore, completely left -to the care of her young attendant. When Jules met Henry at the -drawing-school he told him of his sister's illness: Henry informed his -mother, and Madame G---- immediately hastened to Mademoiselle d'Orbe, -whom she found in the delirium of a fever from which she had been -suffering for some days. The servant said that her mistress had refused -to send for a doctor, pretending that her illness did not signify. -Madame G----, terrified at the state of her young friend, went out and -soon returned with Dr. Raymond. - -The invalid was delirious: she unceasingly repeated the -words--"portrait," "Anna Boleyn," "Exposition," "fortune," "disappointed -hopes;" which plainly indicated the cause of her illness, and brought -tears into the eyes of Madame G----. - -"Alas!" she said, "it is on my account she suffers: I am the cause of -her not finishing her picture. Doctor, I am very unfortunate." - -"All may be repaired," replied the doctor; "if you will promise to nurse -the invalid, I will answer for her recovery." - -In fact, Madame G---- ever left the sick-bed of Mademoiselle d'Orbe. The -doctor visited her twice in the day, and their united care soon restored -the health of the interesting artist. - -Mademoiselle was scarcely convalescent when she went to the Exposition -of paintings at the Louvre, of which she had heard nothing--the doctor -and Madame G---- having, as she thought, avoided touching on a subject -which might pain her. She passed alone through the galleries, crowded -with distinguished artists and elegantly-dressed ladies, saying to -herself that perhaps her picture would have been as good as many which -attracted the admiration of the crowd. She was thus walking sadly on, -looking at the spot where she had hoped to have seen her Anna Boleyn, -when she found herself stopped by a group of artists. They were -unanimous in their praises "This is the best portrait in the -Exposition," said one. "A celebrated engraver is about to buy from the -artist the right to engrave this portrait for the new edition of the -author's works," said another. "We are very fortunate in having so -faithful a likeness of so distinguished a writer as M. G----." - -At this name Mademoiselle d'Orbe raised her eyes, and recognized her own -work! Pale, trembling with emotion, the young artist was obliged to lean -on the rail for support; then opening the catalogue, she read her name -as if in a dream, and remained for some time to enjoy the pleasure of -hearing the praises of her genius. - -When the Exposition closed she hastened to Madame G----, and heard that -it was Dr. Raymond who had conceived the happy idea of sending the -portrait to the Louvre. "My only merit is the separating myself for a -time from a picture which is my greatest consolation," added Madame -G----. - -From this day the young artist became the friend of the poor widow, -whose prospects soon brightened. Through the influence of some of the -friends of her lost husband, she obtained a pension from government--a -merited but tardy reward! The two ladies lived near each other, and -spent their evenings together. Henry and Jules played and studied -together. Marie read aloud, while her mother and Mademoiselle d'Orbe -worked. Dr. Raymond sometimes shared in this pleasant intercourse. He -had loved the young artist from the day he had seen her renounce so much -to do a generous action; but, an orphan like herself, and with no -fortune but his profession, he feared to be rejected if he offered her -his hand. It was therefore Madame G---- who charged herself with -pleading his suit with the young artist. - -Mademoiselle d'Orbe felt a lively gratitude toward the young doctor for -the care and solicitude he had shown during her illness, and for sending -her portrait to the Exposition. Thanks to him, she had become known; -commissions arrived in numbers, a brilliant future opened before her and -Jules. Madame G---- had, then, a favorable answer to give to her young -friend, who soon became the husband of the interesting artist whose -generous sacrifice had been the foundation of her happiness. - - - - -THE STOLEN BANK NOTES. - - -The newspapers of 1810 contain a few brief paragraphs--cold, bare, and -partial as a tombstone, relative to a singular, and, to my thinking, -instructive passage in the domestic annals of Great Britain, with which -I happened to be very intimately acquainted. The impression it produced -on me at the time was vivid and profound, and a couple of lines in a -Liverpool journal the other day, curtly announcing the death of a Madame -L'Estrange, recalled each incident as freshly to memory as if graven -there but yesterday; and moreover induced me to pen the following -narrative, in which, now that I can do so without the risk of giving -pain or offense to any one, I have given the whole affair, divested of -coloring, disguise, or concealment. - -My father, who had influence with the late Lord Bexley, then Mr. -Vansittart, procured me, three weeks after I came of age, a junior -clerkship in one of the best paid of our government offices. In the same -department were two young men, my seniors by about six or seven years -only, of the names of Martin Travers and Edward Capel. Their salaries -were the same--three hundred pounds a year--and both had an equal chance -of promotion to the vacancy likely soon to occur, either by the death or -superannuation of Mr. Rowdell, an aged and ailing chief-clerk. I had -known them slightly before I entered the office, inasmuch as our -families visited in the same society, and we were very soon especially -intimate with each other. They were, I found, fast friends, though -differing greatly in character and temperament. I liked Martin Travers -much the best of the two. He was a handsome, well-grown, frank-spoken, -generous young man; and never have I known a person so full of buoyant -life as he--of a temper so constantly gay and cheerful. Capel was of a -graver, more saturnine disposition, with lines about the mouth -indicative of iron inflexibility of nerve and will; yet withal a hearty -fellow enough, and living, it was suspected, _quite_ up to his income, -if not to something considerably over. I had not been more than about -three months in the office, when a marked change was perceptible in -both. Gradually they had become cold, distant, and at last utterly -estranged from each other; and it was suggested by several among us, -that jealousy as to who should succeed to Rowdell's snug salary of six -hundred a year, might have produced the evidently bad feeling between -them. This might, I thought, have generated the lowering cloud hourly -darkening and thickening upon Capel's brow, but could scarcely account -for the change in Martin Travers. He whose contagious gayety used to -render dullness and ill-humor impossible in his presence, was now -fitful, moody, irascible; his daily tasks were no longer gone through -with the old cheerful alacrity; and finally--for he was morbidly -impatient of being questioned--I jumped to the conclusion--partly from -some half-words dropped, and partly from knowing where they both -occasionally visited--that the subtle influence which from the days of -Helen downward--and I suppose upward--has pleased and plagued mankind, -was at the bottom of the matter. I was quite right, and proof was not -long waited for. I was walking early one evening along Piccadilly with -Travers--who appeared, by-the-by, to wish me further, though he was too -polite to say so--when we came suddenly upon Capel. I caught his arm, -and insisted that he should take a turn with us as he used to do. I -thought that possibly a quiet word or two on the beauty and excellence -of kindly brotherhood among men, might lead to a better feeling between -them. I was deucedly mistaken. My efforts in that line--awkwardly enough -made, I dare say--proved utterly abortive. Capel indeed turned back, -rather than, as I supposed, fussily persist in going on; but both he and -Travers strode on as stiffly as grenadiers on parade--their cheeks -flushed, their eyes alight with angry emotion, and altogether sullen and -savage as bears. What seemed odd too, when Travers turned sharply round -within a short distance of Hyde Park Corner, with a scarcely-disguised -intention of shaking us off, Capel whirled round as quickly, as if quite -as resolutely determined not to be shaken off; while I, considerably -alarmed by the result of the pacific overture I had ventured upon, did, -of course, the same. We stalked on in silence, till just as we reached -Hoby's, and a Mr. Hervey, with his daughter Constance, turned suddenly -out of St. James's-street. I was fiery hot to the tips of my ears in an -instant. Travers and Capel stopped abruptly, stared fiercely at each -other, and barely recovered presence of mind in sufficient time to lift -their hats in acknowledgment of Mr. Hervey's brief greeting, and the -lady's slight bow, as, after half-pausing, they passed on. It was all -clear enough now. My two gentlemen had come to Piccadilly in the hope of -meeting with Constance Hervey, and accompanying her home; frustrated in -this, they had determined not to lose sight of each other; nor did they -for three mortal hours, during which, anxiety lest their rancorous -ill-humor should break out into open quarrel, kept me banging about from -post to pillar with them--a sullen companionship, so utterly wearisome -that I had several times half a mind to propose that they should fight -it out at once, or toss up which should jump for the other's benefit -into the Thames. At length ten o'clock struck, and it appearing to be -mutually concluded that a visit to Kensington was no longer possible, a -sour expression of relief escaped them, and our very agreeable party -separated. - -A very dangerous person in such a crisis was, I knew, this Constance -Hervey, though by no means a catch in a pecuniary sense for -well-connected young men with present salaries of three hundred a year, -and twice as much in near expectancy. Her father, who had once held his -head pretty high in the commercial world, had not long since become -bankrupt, and they were now living upon an annuity of little more, I -understood, than a hundred pounds, so secured to Mr. Hervey that his -creditors could not touch it. This consideration, however, is one that -weighs very little with men in the condition of mind of Capel and -Travers, and I felt that once enthralled by Constance Hervey's singular -beauty, escape, or resignation to disappointment was very difficult and -hard to bear. She was no favorite of mine, just then, by the way. I had -first seen her about three years previously--and even then, while yet -the light, the simplicity, the candor, of young girlhood lingered over, -and softened the rising graces of the woman, I read in the full depths -of her dark eyes an exultant consciousness of beauty, and the secret -instinct of its power. Let me, however, in fairness state that I had -myself--moon-calf that I must have been--made sundry booby, blushing -advances to the youthful beauty, and the half-amused, half-derisive -merriment with which they were received, gave a twist, no doubt, to my -opinion of the merits of a person so provokingly blind to mine. Be this, -however, as it may, there could be no question that Constance Hervey was -now a very charming woman, and I was grieved only, not surprised, at the -bitter rivalry that had sprung up between Travers and Capel--a rivalry -which each successive day but fed and strengthened! - -Capel appeared to be fast losing all control over his temper and mode of -life. He drank freely--that was quite clear; gambled, it was said, and -rumors of debt, protested bills, ready money raised at exorbitant -interest on the faith of his succeeding to Rowdell's post, flew thick as -hail about the office. Should he obtain the coveted six hundred a year, -Constance Hervey would, I doubted not--first favorite as Travers now -seemed to be--condescend to be Mrs. Capel. This, not very complimentary -opinion, I had been mentally repeating some dozen times with more than -ordinary bitterness as I sat alone one evening after dinner in our -little dining-room in Golden-square, when the decision came. The -governor being out, I had perhaps taken a few extra glasses of wine, and -nothing, in my experience, so lights up and inflames tender or -exasperating reminiscences as fine old port. - -"Rat-tat-tat-tat." It was unmistakably Travers's knock, and -boisterously hilarious, too, as in the old time, before any Constance -Herveys had emerged from pinafores and tuckers to distract and torment -mankind, and more especially well-to-do government clerks. The startled -maid-servant hastened to the door, and I had barely gained my feet and -stretched myself, when in bounced Travers--radiant--a-blaze with -triumph. - -"Hollo, Travers! Why, where the deuce do you spring from, eh?" - -"From Heaven! Paradise!--the presence of an angel at all events!" - -"There, there, that will do; I quite understand." - -"No, you don't Ned. Nobody but myself _can_ understand, imagine, guess, -dream of the extent the vastness of the change that has come over my -life. Firstly, then--but this is nothing--Rowdell is at length -superannuated, and I am to have his place." - -He paused a moment; and I, with certainly a more than half-envious -sneer, said--"And upon the strength of that piece of luck, you have -proposed to Constance Hervey, and been accepted--of course." - -"_Jubilate_--yes! Feel how my pulse throbs! It is four hours since, and -still my brain lightens and my eyes dazzle with the tumultuous joy. Do -not light the candles; I shall grow calmer in the twilight." - -"Confound his raptures," was my internal ejaculation. "Why the mischief -couldn't he take them somewhere else?" I, however, said nothing, and he -presently resumed the grateful theme. "You will be at the wedding, of -course. And by-the-by, now I think of it, haven't I heard Constance say -she especially remembers you for something--I forget exactly what--but -something pleasant and amusing--very!" - -My face kindled to flame, and I savagely whirled the easy chair in which -I sat two or three yards back from the fire-light before speaking. "I am -extremely obliged to the lady, and so I dare say is poor Capel, who, it -seems, has been so carelessly thrown over." - -"Carelessly thrown over!" rejoined Travers, sharply. "That is a very -improper expression. If he has, as I fear, indulged in illusions, he has -been only self-deceived. Still, his double disappointment grieves me. It -seems to cast--though there is no valid reason that it should do so--a -shadow on my conscience." - -We were both silent for some time. I was in no mood for talking, and he -sat gazing dreamily at the fire. I knew very well whose face he saw -there. I have seen it myself in the same place a hundred times. - -"There is another drawback, Ned," he at length resumed. "Our marriage -must be deferred six months at the least. I have but about two hundred -pounds in ready money, and the lease and furniture of the house we shall -require, would cost at least double that." - -"Any respectable establishment would credit you for the furniture upon -the strength of your greatly-increased salary." - -"So I urged; but Constance has such a perfect horror of debt--arising -no doubt from her father's misfortunes--that she positively insists we -must wait till every thing required in our new establishment can be paid -for when purchased. I could, I think, raise the money upon my own -acceptance, but should Constance hear that I had done so, she would, I -fear, withdraw her promise." - -"Stuff and nonsense! Six hundred a year can not be picked up every day." - -"You do not know Constance Hervey. But come; I must have patience! -Six--nine months are not a lifetime. Good-by. I knew you would be -rejoiced to hear of my good fortune." - -"Oh, of course--particularly delighted, in fact! Good-evening." I have -slept better than I did that night. - -It was Sunday evening when Travers called on me, and Capel did not make -his appearance at the office till the Friday following, his excuse being -urgent private business. Harassing business, if that were so, it must -have been, for a sharp fever could scarcely have produced a greater -change for the worse in his personal appearance. He was mentally changed -as greatly. He very heartily congratulated Travers on his promotion, and -took, moreover, the first opportunity of privately assuring him that his -(Capel's) transient fancy for Miss Hervey had entirely passed away, and -he cordially complimented his former rival on having succeeded in that -quarter also. This was all remarkably queer, _I_ thought; but Travers, -from whose mind a great load seemed taken, willingly believed him, and -they were better friends than ever; Capel, the more thoroughly, it -seemed, to mark his acquiescent indifference, accompanying Travers once -or twice to the Herveys'. So did I; though I would have given something -the first time to have been any where else; for if a certain kneeling -down, garden-arbor scene did not play about the lady's coral lips, and -gleam for a moment from the corners of her bewildering eyes, my pulse -was as steady and temperate just then, as it is now, after the frosts of -more than sixty winters have chilled its beatings. She was, however, -very kind and courteous, a shade _too_ considerately gentle and -patronizing, perhaps, and I became a rather frequent visitor. An ancient -aunt, and very worthy soul, lived with them, with whom I now and then -took a turn at backgammon, while the affianced couple amused themselves -with chess--such chess! Travers was, I knew, a superior player, but on -these occasions he hardly appeared to know a queen from a rook, or a -bishop from a pawn. They were thus absurdly engaged one evening, when I -made a discovery which, if it did not much surprise, greatly pained and -somewhat alarmed me. Aunt Jane had left the room on some household -intent, and I, partly concealed in the recess where I sat, by the -window-curtain, silently contemplated the queer chess-playing, the -entranced delight of the lover, and the calm, smiling graciousness of -the lady. I have felt in a more enviable frame of mind--more composed, -more comfortable than I did just then, but, good lord! what was my -innocent little pit-pat compared with the storm of hate, and fury, and -despair, which found terrific expression in the countenance that, as -attracted by a slight noise, I hastily looked up, met my view! It was -Capel's. He had entered the room, the door being ajar, unobserved, and -was gazing, as he supposed, unmarked, at the chess-players. I was so -startled that I, mechanically, as it were, sprang to my feet, and as I -did so, Capel's features, by a strong effort of will, resumed their -ordinary expression, save for the deathly pallor that remained, and a -nervous quivering of the upper lip which could not be instantly -mastered. I was more than satisfied as to the true nature of -smooth-seeming Mr. Capel's sentiments toward the contracted couple, but -as _they_ had observed nothing, I thought it wisest to hold my peace. I -could not, however, help smiling at the confiding simplicity with which -Travers, as we all three walked homeward together, sought counsel of -Capel as to the readiest means of raising--unknown to Miss Hervey--the -funds necessary to be obtained before Prudence, as interpreted by that -lady, would permit his marriage. Slight help, thought I, for such a -purpose, will be afforded by the owner of the amiable countenance I saw -just now. - -It was just a week after this that thunder fell upon our office by the -discovery that sixteen hundred pounds in Bank of England notes, sent in -by different parties, late on the previous day, had disappeared, -together with a memorandum-book containing the numbers and dates. Great, -it may be imagined, was the consternation among us all, and a rigorous -investigation, which, however, led to nothing, was immediately -instituted. Capel, who showed extraordinary zeal in the matter, went, -accompanied by one of the chief clerks, to the parties from whom the -notes had been received, for fresh lists, in order that payment might be -stopped. On their return, it was given out that no accurate, reliable -list could be obtained. This, it was afterward found, was a _ruse_ -adopted in order to induce the thief or thieves to more readily attempt -getting the notes into circulation. - -This occurred in the beginning of September, and about the middle of -October, Travers suddenly informed me that he was to be married on the -following Monday--this was Tuesday. The lease of a house at Hammersmith -had, he said, been agreed for, the furniture ordered, and every thing -was to be completed and paid for by the end of the present week. "And -the money--the extra two hundred and odd pounds required--how has that -been obtained?" "Of my uncle Woolridge, a marriage-_gift_, though -he won't, I believe, be present at the wedding," returned the -bridegroom-elect, with a joyous chuckle. I was quite sure from his -manner, as well as from my knowledge of his uncle's penurious character, -that this was a deception. Constance Hervey's scruples, I had always -thought, now that it was certain his next quarter's salary would -be one hundred and fifty pounds were somewhat over strained and -unreasonable--still I was vexed that he had stooped to deceive her by -such a subterfuge. It was, however, no especial affair of mine, and I -reluctantly accepted his invitation to dine at the Herveys' with him on -the last day of his bachelorhood, that is, on the following Sunday. -Capel was invited, but he refused. I also, declined, and resolutely, to -attend the wedding. That would, I felt, be _un peu trop fort_ just then. - -A very pleasant party assembled at Mr. Hervey's on the afternoon of that -terrible Sunday, and we were cheerfully chatting over the dessert, when -the servant-girl announced that four gentlemen were at the door who said -they _must_ see Mr. Travers instantly. - -"_Must_ see me!" exclaimed Travers. "Very peremptory, upon my word. With -your leave, sir--and yours, Constance, I will see these very determined -gentlemen here. Bid them walk in, Susan." - -Before Susan could do so, the door opened, and in walked the strangers -_without_ invitation. One of them, a square, thick-set, bullet-headed -man it instantly struck me I had been in company with before. Oh! to be -sure! he was the officer who conducted the investigation in the matter -of the stolen notes. What on earth could _he_ want there--or with -Travers? - -"You paid, Mr. Travers," said he, bluntly, "something over four hundred -pounds to these two gentlemen, yesterday." - -"Yes, certainly I did; no doubt about it." - -"Will you tell us, then, if you please, where you obtained the notes in -which you made those payments?" - -"Obtained them--where I obtained them?" said Travers, who did not, I -think, immediately recognize the officer. "To be sure. Four of -them--four fifties--I have had by me for some time; and--and--" - -"The two one-hundred pound notes--how about them?" quietly suggested the -man, seeing Travers hesitate. - -Travers, more confused than alarmed, perhaps, but white as the paper on -which I am writing, glanced hurriedly round--we had all impulsively -risen to our feet--till his eye rested upon Constance Hervey's -eagerly-attentive countenance. "I received them," he stammered, -repeating, I was sure, a falsehood, "from my uncle, Mr. Woolridge, of -Tottenham." - -"Then, of course, you will have no objection to accompany us to your -uncle, Mr. Woolridge, of Tottenham?" - -"Certainly not; but not now. To-morrow--you see I am engaged now." - -"I am sorry to say, Mr. Travers, that you _must_ go with us. Those two -notes were among those stolen from the office to which you belong." - -There was a half-stifled scream--a broken sob, and, but for me, -Constance Hervey would have fallen senseless on the floor. Travers was -in the merciless grasp of the officers, who needlessly hurried him off, -spite of his frantic entreaties for a brief delay. The confusion and -terror of such a scene may be imagined, not described. Although at first -somewhat staggered, five minutes had not passed before I felt thoroughly -satisfied that Travers was the victim of some diabolical plot; and I -pretty well guessed of whose concoction. An untruth he had no doubt been -guilty of, through fear of displeasing his betrothed--but guilty of -stealing money--of plundering the office!--bah!--the bare supposition -was an absurdity. - -As soon as Miss Hervey was sufficiently recovered to listen, I -endeavored to reason with her in this sense, but she could not -sufficiently command her attention. "My brain is dizzy and confused as -yet," she said; "do you follow, and ascertain, as far as possible, _all_ -the truth--the worst truth. I shall be calmer when you return." - -"I did so, and in less than two hours I was again at Kensington. Travers -was locked up, after confessing that his statement of having received -the hundred-pound notes of his uncle Woolridge, was untrue. He would -probably be examined at Bow-street the next day--his wedding-day, as he -had fondly dreamed!" - -I found Constance Hervey--unlike her father and aunt, who were moaning -and lamenting about the place like distracted creatures--perfectly calm -and self-possessed, though pale as Parian marble. I told her all--all I -had heard and seen, and all that I suspected. Her eyes kindled to -intensest lustre as I spoke. "I have no doubt," she said, "that your -suspicions point the right way, but proof, confronted as we shall be by -that wretched falsehood, will, I fear, be difficult. But I will not -despair; the truth will, I trust, ultimately prevail. And remember, -Thornton," she added, "that we count entirely upon you." She gave me her -hand on saying this; I clutched it with ridiculous enthusiasm, and -blurted out--as if I had been a warlike knight instead of a peaceable -clerk--"You may, Miss Hervey, to the death!" In fact, at that particular -moment, although by no means naturally pugnacious, and, moreover, of a -somewhat delicate constitution, I think I should have proved an ugly -customer had there been any body in the way to fight with. This, -however, not being the case, I consulted with Mr. Hervey as to what -legal assistance ought to be secured, and it was finally determined that -I should request Mr. Elkins, a solicitor residing in Lothbury, to take -Travers's instructions, and that Mr. Alley, the barrister, should be -retained to attend at Bow-street. This matter settled, I took my leave. - -I had a very unsatisfactory account to render on the morrow evening to -the anxious family at Kensington. Travers's appearance at Bow-street had -been deferred, at the request of his solicitor, to Wednesday, in order -that the individual from whom the prisoner _now_ declared he had -received the stolen notes might be communicated with. The explanation -given by Travers to the solicitor was briefly this: About seven months -previously he had amassed a considerable sum in guineas--then bearing a -high premium, although it was an offense at law to dispose of them for -more in silver or notes than their nominal value. Somebody--Mr. Capel, -he was pretty sure, but would not be positive--mentioned to him the name -of one Louis Brocard, of No. 18 Brewer-street, as a man who would be -likely to give him a good price for his gold. Travers accordingly saw -Brocard, who, after considerable haggling, paid him two hundred pounds -in Bank of England notes--four fifties--for one hundred and sixty-two -guineas. That lately he, Travers, had often mentioned to Capel, that he -wished to raise, as secretly as possible, on his own personal security, -a sum of at least two hundred pounds, and that Capel--this he was sure -of, as not more than a month had since elapsed--Capel had advised him to -apply to Louis Brocard for assistance. He had done so, and Brocard had -given him the two one-hundred pound notes in exchange for a note of -hand, at six months' date, for two hundred and twenty pounds. I had -obtained temporary leave of absence from the office, and at the -solicitor's request I accompanied him to Brewer-street. Brocard--a -strong-featured, swarthy _emigré_ from the south of France, Languedoc, I -believe, who had been in this country since '92, and spoke English -fluently--was at home, and I could not help thinking, from his manner, -expecting and prepared for some such visit. There was a young woman with -him, his niece, he said, Marie Deschamps, of the same cast of features -as himself, but much handsomer, and with dark fiery eyes, that upon the -least excitement seemed to burn like lightning. Brocard confirmed -Travers's statement without hesitation as to the purchase of the gold -and the discount of the bill. "In what money did you pay the two hundred -pounds for which you received the acceptance?" asked the solicitor. - -"I will tell you," replied Brocard, coolly. "Marie, give me the -pocket-book from the desk--the red one. September 26th," he continued, -after adjusting his spectacles, "Martin Travers, four fifty Bank of -England notes," and he read off the dates and numbers, of which I -possess no memoranda. - -"Why, those are the notes," exclaimed Mr. Elkins, very much startled, -and glancing at a list in his hand, "which you paid Mr. Travers for the -gold, and which you and others I could name, knew he had not since -parted with!" - -A slight flush crossed the Frenchman's brow, and the niece's eyes -gleamed with fierce expression at these words. The emotion thus -displayed was but momentary. - -"You are misinformed," said Brocard. "Here is a memorandum made at the -time (March 3d) of the notes paid for the gold. You can read it -yourself. The largest in amount, you will see, was a twenty." - -"Do you mean to persist in asserting," said Mr. Elkins, after several -moments of dead silence, "that you did not pay Mr. Travers for his bill -of exchange in two one-hundred pound notes?" - -"Persist!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I don't understand your 'persist!' -I have told you the plain truth. Persist--_parbleu_!" - -I was dumfoundered. "Pray, Monsieur Brocard," said the solicitor, -suddenly; "Do you know Mr. Capel?" - -The swarthy flush was plainer now, and not so transitory. -"Capel--Capel," he muttered, averting his face toward his niece. "Do we -know Capel, Marie?" - -"No doubt your niece does, Mr. Brocard," said the solicitor, with a -sharp sneer, "or that eloquent face of hers belies her." - -In truth, Marie Deschamps's features were a-flame with confused and -angry consciousness; and her brilliant eyes sparkled with quick ire, as -she retorted, "And if I do, what then?" - -"Nothing, _perhaps_, young lady; but my question was addressed to your -uncle." - -"I have nothing more to say," rejoined Brocard. "I know nothing of the -hundred pound notes; very little of Mr. Capel, whom now, however, I -remember. And pray, sir," he added, with a cold, malignant smile, "did I -not hear this morning, that Martin Travers informed the officers that it -was a relation, an uncle, I believe, from whom he received the said -notes--stolen notes, it seems? He will endeavor to inculpate some one -else by-and-by, I dare say." - -There was no parrying this thrust, and we came away, much disturbed and -discouraged. I remained late that evening at Kensington, talking the -unfortunate matter over; but hope, alas! of a safe deliverance for poor -Travers appeared impossible, should Brocard persist in his statement. -The prisoner's lodgings had been minutely searched, but no trace of the -still missing fourteen hundred pounds had been discovered there. -Constance Hervey appeared to be greatly struck with my account of Marie -Deschamps's appearance and demeanor, and made me repeat each -circumstance over and over again. I could not comprehend how this could -so much interest her at such a time. - -Brocard repeated his statement, on oath, at Bow-street, and Mr. Alley's -cross-examination failed to shake his testimony. The first declaration -made by Travers necessarily deprived his after protestations, vehement -as they were, of all respect; but I could not help feeling surprise that -the barrister's suggestion that it was absurd to suppose that a man in -possession of the very large sum that had been stolen, would have -_borrowed_ two hundred pounds at an exorbitant interest, was treated -with contempt. All that, it was hinted, was a mere colorable contrivance -to be used in case of detection. The prisoner feared to put too many of -the notes in circulation at once, and the acceptance would have been -paid for in the stolen moneys, and so on. Finally, Travers was committed -for trial, and bail was refused. - -As the star of the unfortunate Travers sank in disastrous eclipse, that -of Capel shone more brilliantly. There was no doubt that he would -succeed, on his rival's conviction, to the vacated post; and some eight -or nine weeks after Travers had been committed, circumstances occurred -which induced me to believe that he would be equally successful in -another respect. I must also say that Capel evinced from the first much -sorrow for his old friend's lamentable fall; he treated the notion of -his being guiltless with disdain, and taking me one day aside, he said -he should endeavor to get Brocard out of the country before the day of -trial either by fair means or by tipping him the Alien Act. "In fact," -he added, with some confusion of manner, "I have faithfully promised -Miss Hervey, that for _her_ sake, though she can have no more doubt of -his guilt than I have, that no effort shall be spared to prevent his -_legal_ conviction; albeit, life, without character will be, I should -think, no great boon to him." - -"For _her_ sake! You, Edward Capel, have faithfully promised Miss Hervey -to attempt this for _her_ sake!" I exclaimed, as soon as I could speak -for sheer astonishment. - -"Ay, truly: does that surprise you, Thornton?" he added, with a -half-bitter, half-Malvolio smile. - -"Supremely; and if it be as your manner intimates, why then, Frailty, -thy name in very truth is--" - -"Woman!" broke in Capel, taking the word out of my mouth. "No doubt of -it, from the days of Eve till ours. But come, let us return to -business." - -I had been for some time grievously perplexed by the behavior of -Constance Hervey. Whenever I had called at Kensington, I found, that -though at times she appeared to be on the point of breaking through a -self-imposed restraint, all mention of Travers, as far as possible, was -avoided, and that some new object engrossed the mind of Constance, to -the exclusion of every other. What a light did this revelation of -Capel's throw on her conduct and its motives! And it was such a woman as -that, was it, that I had enshrined in the inmost recesses of my heart, -and worshiped as almost a divinity! Great God! - -These thoughts were trembling on my lips, when a brief note was brought -me: "Miss Hervey's compliments to Mr. Edward Thornton, and she will be -obliged if, late as it is, he will hasten to Kensington immediately." I -had never seen a line of hers before in my life, and it was wonderful -how all my anger, suspicion, scorn, vanished--exhaled, before those -little fly-stroke characters; so much so that--but no, I won't expose -myself. A hack soon conveyed me to Kensington; Mr. Hervey, Constance, -and good Aunt Jane were all there in the parlor, evidently in -expectation of my arrival. Miss Hervey proceeded to business at once. - -"You have not seen Marie Deschamps lately, I believe?" - -"Not I! The last time I saw her was in Bow-street, whither she -accompanied her scoundrel of an uncle." - -"Well, you must see her again to-morrow. She is deeply attached to Mr. -Capel, and expects that he will marry her as soon as Martin Travers is -convicted; and he, Capel, has secured the vacant place." - -"Ha!" - -"Mr. Capel," continued Miss Hervey, and a glint of sparkling sunlight -shot from her charming eyes, "has been foolish enough to prefer another -person--at least so I am instructed by papa, with whom the gentleman -left this note, not yet opened, addressed to me, some three hours since. -I can imagine its contents, but let us see." - -I can not depict in words the scorn, contempt, pride--triumph, too--that -swept over that beautiful countenance. "Very impassioned and eloquent, -upon my word," she said; "I only wonder such burning words did not fire -the paper. Now, Mr. Thornton, you must see this forsaken damsel, Marie -Deschamps, and acquaint her with Mr. Capel's inconstancy. She will -require proof--it shall be afforded her. In answer to this missive, I -shall appoint Mr. Capel to see me here to-morrow evening at seven -o'clock. Do you bring her by half-past six, and place yourselves in yon -little ante-room, where every thing done here, and every word spoken, -can be distinctly seen and heard. This well managed, I am greatly -deceived in those southern eyes of hers if the iniquitous plot, of which -there can be no doubt she holds the clew, will not receive an -unlooked-for solution." - -"Charming! glorious! beautiful!" I was breaking into _éclats_ of -enthusiastic admiration, but Miss Hervey, who was too earnest and -excited to listen patiently to rhapsodies, cut me short with, "My dear -sir, it's getting very late, and there is, you know, much to be done -to-morrow." It's not pleasant to be let down so suddenly when you are so -particularly stilty, but as I was by this time pretty well used to it, I -submitted with the best possible grace, and, after receiving some other -explanations and directions, took leave. - -I obtained an interview without difficulty, on the following morning, -with Marie Deschamps, just before office hours, and in her uncle's -absence. She was curious to know the object of my visit; but her manner, -though free and gay, was carefully guarded and unrelenting, till I -gradually and cautiously introduced the subject of Capel's infidelity. -It was marvelous how, as each sentence fell upon her ear, her figure -stiffened into statue-like rigidity, and her eyes kindled with fiery -passion. "If this be so," she said, when I ceased speaking, "he is -playing with his life! Is she the lady I passed a fortnight since, when -with him in the Park?" "Describe the lady, and I will tell you." She did -so; it was the exact portrait of Miss Hervey, and so I told her. "I had -a misgiving at the time," she said; "if it prove true--but I will -believe, after what has passed, only my own eyes and ears." - -This was all we desired; a satisfactory arrangement was agreed upon, and -I left her, not without hugging self-gratulation that _I_ was not the -recreant sweetheart about to be caught _in flagrante delicto_ by such a -damsel. - -I watched Capel that day with keen attention. He was much excited it was -evident, and withal ill at ease: there was a nervous apprehensiveness in -his manner and aspect I had never before noticed, over which, however, -from time to time quick flashes of exultation glimmered, sparkled, and -then vanished. Is it, thought I, the shadow of a sinister catastrophe -that already projects over and awes, appalls him? It might be. - -Marie Deschamps and I were ensconced punctually at the hour named, in -the little slip of a closet communicating with the Herveys' up-stairs -sitting-room. Nobody appeared there till about five minutes to seven, -when Constance, charmingly attired, and looking divinely--though much -agitated, I could see through all her assumed firmness--entered, and -seated herself upon a small couch, directly in front of the tiny window -through which we cautiously peered. "No wonder," I mentally exclaimed, -"that Capel has been beguiled of all sense or discretion!" - -In reply to Marie Deschamps' look of jealous yet admiring surprise, I -whispered, pointing to the neat but poor furniture, "Capel expects, you -know, soon to have six hundred a year." "Ah," she rejoined, in the same -tone, "and in this country gold is God!" "And all the Saints in yours, I -believe; but hark! there is a knock at the door; it is he, no doubt." - -Comparatively dark as the closet was, I could see the red, swarthy color -come and go on the young woman's cheeks and forehead; and I fancied I -could hear the violent and hurried beating of her heart. Presently Mr. -Capel entered the apartment; his features were flushed as with fever, -and his whole manner exhibited uncontrollable agitation. His first words -were unintelligible, albeit their purport might be guessed. Miss Hervey, -though much disturbed also, managed to say, after a few moment's awkward -silence, and with a half-ironical yet fascinating smile, taking up as -she spoke a letter which lay upon the table, "Upon my word, Mr. Capel, -this abrupt proposal of yours appears to me, under the circumstances, to -be singularly ill-timed and premature, besides--" - -The lady's discomposure had, it struck me, dissipated a half-formed -suspicion in Capel's mind that some trap or mystification was preparing -for him, and, throwing himself at the feet of Constance, he gave way to -a torrent of fervent, headlong protestation, which there could be no -question was the utterance of genuine passion. Marie Deschamps felt -this, and but that I forcibly held her back, she would have burst into -the room at once: as it was she pressed her arms across her bosom with -her utmost force, as if to compress, keep down, the wild rage by which -she was, I saw, shaken and convulsed. Miss Hervey appeared affected by -Capel's vehemence, and she insisted that he should rise and seat -himself. He did so, and after a minute or so of silence, Constance again -resolutely addressed herself to the task she had determined to perform. - -"But the lady, Mr. Capel, whom we saw you conversing with not long since -in the Park; one Marie--Marie, something?" - -"The name of such a person as Marie Deschamps should not sully Miss -Hervey's lips, even in jest, ha!--" - -No wonder he stopped abruptly, and turned round with quick alarm. Till -that moment I had with difficulty succeeded in holding the said Marie, -but no sooner was her name thus contemptuously pronounced, than she -plucked a small, glittering instrument from her bodice--the half of a -pair of scissors, it seemed to me, but pointed and sharp as a -dagger--and drove it into my arm with such hearty good-will, that I -loosed her in a twinkling. In she burst upon the utterly astounded Capel -with a cry of rage and vengeance, and struck furiously at him right and -left, at the same time hurling in his face the epithets of "liar!" -"traitor!" "robber!" "villain!" and so on, as thick as hail, and with -maniacal fury. I had instantly followed, and at the same moment Mr. -Hervey, and the officer who arrested Travers, came in by another door. I -and Mr. Hervey placed ourselves before Constance, who was terribly -scared, for this stabbing business was more than we had looked or -bargained for. The officer seized Marie Deschamps' arm, and with some -difficulty wrenched the dangerous weapon she wielded with such deadly -ferocity from her grasp. It was, as I supposed, a sharpened -scissors-blade, and keen, as a large scar on my arm still testifies, as -a poinard. Capel, paralyzed, bewildered by so unexpected and furious an -attack, and bleeding in several places, though not seriously hurt, -staggered back to the wall, against which he supported himself, as he -gazed with haggard fear and astonishment at the menacing scene before -him. - -"And so you would marry that lady, thief and villain that you are!" -continued the relentless young fury; "she shall know, then, what you -are; that it was you contrived the stealing of the bank notes, which--" - -"Marie!" shrieked Capel, "dear Marie! for your own sake, stop! I will do -any thing--" - -"Dog! traitor!" she broke in, with even yet wilder passion than before, -if it were possible; "it is too late. I know you now, and spit at both -you and your promises? It was you, I say, who brought my uncle the -one-hundred pound notes by which your _friend_, Martin Travers, has been -entrapped!" - -"'Tis false! the passionate, mad, jealous fool lies!" shouted Capel, -with frantic terror. - -"Lie, do I? Then there is _not_ a thousand pounds worth of the stolen -notes concealed at this moment beneath the floor of your sitting-room, -till an opportunity can be found of sending them abroad! That, unmatched -villain that you are, is false, too, perhaps?" - -She paused from sheer exhaustion, and for a brief space no one spoke, so -suddenly had the blow fallen. Presently the officer said, "The game is -up, you see, at last, Mr. Capel; you will go with me;" and he stepped -toward the unhappy culprit. Capel, thoroughly desperate, turned, sprang -with surprising agility over a dining-table, threw up a window-sash, and -leapt into the street. The height was not so much, but his feet caught -in some iron railing, and he fell head foremost on the pavement, -fracturing his skull frightfully. Before an hour had passed, he was -dead. - -Brocard contrived to escape, but the evidence of Marie Deschamps and the -finding of the stolen notes, in accordance with her statement, fully -established the innocence of Travers, and he was restored to freedom and -his former position in the world. He and Constance Hervey, to whom he -owed so much, were married three months after his liberation, and I -officiated, by particular desire, as bride's father. - -I had lost sight of Marie Deschamps for some twelve or thirteen years, -when I accidentally met her in Liverpool. She was a widow, having -married and buried a M. L'Estrange, a well-to-do person there, who left -her in decent circumstances. We spoke together of the events I have -briefly but faithfully narrated, and she expressed much contrition for -the share she had taken in the conspiracy against Travers. I fancied, -too--it was perhaps an unjust fancy--that, knowing I had lately been -promoted to four hundred a year, she wished to dazzle me with those -still bright eyes of hers--a bootless effort, by whomsoever attempted. -The talismanic image daguerreotyped upon my heart in the bright sunlight -of young manhood, could have no rival there, and is even now as fresh -and radiant as when first impressed, albeit the strong years have done -their work, yet very gently, upon the original. It could scarcely be -otherwise, living visibly, as she still does, in youthful grace and -beauty in the person of the gay gipsy I am, please God, soon to "give -away," at St. Pancras Church, as I did her grandmamma, more than forty -years ago, at Kensington. Constance, _this_ Constance is, as she well -knows, to be my heiress. Travers, her grandfather, is now a -silver-haired, yet hale, jocund, old man; and so tenderly, I repeat, has -Time dealt with his wife--the Constance Hervey of this narrative--that I -can sometimes hardly believe her to be more than about three or four and -forty years of age. This is, however, perhaps only an illusion of the -long and, whatever fools or skeptics may think, or say, elevating dream -that has pursued me through youth and middle age, even unto confirmed -old bachelorhood. Madame L'Estrange, as before stated, died a short time -since at Liverpool; her death, by influenza, the paper noticed, was -sudden and unexpected. - - - - -WONDERFUL TOYS. - - -Very wonderful things are told by various writers of the power of -inventive genius in expending itself upon trifles. Philip Camuz -describes an extraordinary automaton group that was got up, regardless, -of course, of expense, for the entertainment of Louis the Fourteenth. -It consisted of a coach and horses--what a modern coachman would -designate "a first-rate turn-out." Its road was a table; and, at -starting, the coachman smacked his whip, the horses began to prance; -then, subsiding into a long trot, they continued until the whole -equipage arrived opposite to where the King sat. They then stopped, a -footman dismounted from the foot-board, opened the door, and handed out -a lady; who, courtesying gracefully, offered a petition to his Majesty, -and re-entered the carriage. The footman jumped up behind--all -right--the whip smacked once more; the horses pranced, and the long trot -was resumed. - -Some of the stories extant, respecting musical automata, are no less -extraordinary. D'Alembert gives an account, in the "_Encyclopédie -Methodique_," of a gigantic mechanical Flute-player. It stood on a -pedestal, in which some of the "works" were contained; and, not only -blew into the flute, but, with its lips, increased or diminished the -tones it forced out of the instrument, performing the legato and -staccato passages to perfection. The fingering was also quite accurate. -This marvelous Flautist was exhibited in Paris in 1738, and was made by -Jacques de Vaucanson, the prince of automaton contrivers. - -Vaucanson labored under many disadvantages in constructing this -marvelous figure; among others, that of a skeptic uncle; who, for some -years, laughed him out of his project. At length, fortune favored the -mechanist with a severe illness; and he took advantage of it to contrive -the automaton he had so long dreamt of. This was at Grenoble; and, as -Vaucanson designed each portion of the figure, he sent it to be made by -a separate workman; that no one should find out the principle of his -invention. As the pieces came home, he put them together; and, when the -whole was completed, he crawled out of bed, by the help of a servant who -had been his go-between with the various operative mechanics, and locked -his chamber door. Trembling with anxiety, he wound up the works. At the -first sound emitted from the flute, the servant fell on his knees, and -began to worship his master as somebody more than mortal. They both -embraced each other, and wept with joy to the tune which the figure was -merrily playing. - -None of Vaucanson's imitators have been able to accomplish the -organization by which his figure modified the tones, by the action of -the lips; although several flute-playing puppets have since been made. -About forty years ago there was an exhibition in London, of two -mechanical figures, of the size of life, which performed duets. -Incredulous visitors were in the habit of placing their fingers on the -holes of the flutes, in order to convince themselves that the puppets -really supplied the wind, which caused the flutes to discourse such -excellent music. - -A full orchestra of clock-work musicians is quite possible. Maelzel, the -inventor of the Metronome, opened an exhibition in Vienna, in 1809, in -which an automaton Trumpeter as large as life, performed with -surprising accuracy and power. The audience first saw, on entering the -room, a tent. Presently the curtains opened, and Maelzel appeared -leading forward the trumpeter, attired in full regimentals of an -Austrian dragoon. He then pressed the left epaulet of the figure, and it -began to sound, not only all the cavalry flails then in use for -directing the evolutions of the Austrian cavalry, but to play a march, -and an allegro by Weigl, which was accompanied by a full band of living -musicians. The figure then retired; and, in a few minutes, reappeared in -the dress of a trumpeter of the French guard. The inventor wound it up -on the left hip; another touch on the left shoulder, and forth came from -the trumpet, in succession, all the French cavalry-calls, the French -cavalry march, a march by Dussek, and one of Pleyel's allegros; again -accompanied by the orchestra. In the _Journal des Modes_, whence this -account is derived, it is declared that the tones produced by Maelzel's -automaton were even fuller and richer than those got out of a trumpet by -human lungs and lips; because a man's breath imparts to the inside of -the instrument a moisture which deteriorates the quality of the tone. - -Vaucanson has, however, never been outdone; after his Flautist, he -produced a figure which accompanied a flageolet played with one hand, -with a tambourine struck with the other. But his most wonderful -achievements were in imitating animals. His duck became a wonder of the -world. He simulated nature in the minutest point. Every bone, every -fibre, every organ, were so accurately constructed and fitted, that the -mechanism waddled about in search of grain; and, when it found some, -picked it up with its bill and swallowed it. "This grain" (we quote from -the _Biographie Universelle_) "produced in the stomach a species of -trituration, which caused it to pass into the intestines, and to perform -all the functions of digestion." The wonderful duck was not to be -distinguished from any live duck. It muddled the water with its beak, -drank, and quacked to the life. From men and ducks Vaucanson descended -to insects. When Marmontel brought out his tragedy of "Cleopatra," -Vaucanson obliged the author with a mechanical Aspic, in order that the -heroine might be stung with the closest imitation of nature. At the -proper moment the insect darted forth from the side-scenes, and settled -upon the actress, hissing all the while. A wit, on being asked his -opinion of the play, answered pithily, "_I_ agree with the Aspic." - -One never contemplates these wonders without regretting that so much -mechanical genius should have been mis-expended upon objects by which -mankind are no gainers beyond a little fleeting gratification. Vaucanson -did not, however, wholly waste himself upon ingenious trifling. He was -appointed by Cardinal Fleury, Inspector of Silk Manufactories, into -which he introduced, during a visit to Lyons, some labor-saving -improvements. In return for this, the workmen stoned him out of the -town; but he conveyed his opinion of their folly by constructing and -setting to work a machine which produced a very respectable flower -pattern in silk damask by the aid of an Ass. Had his genius confined -itself wholly to the useful arts, it is not to be doubted that Vaucanson -would have advanced the productive powers of machinery, and, -consequently, the prosperity of mankind, at least half a century. In -point of abstract ingenuity, his useless contrivances equal, if they do -not exceed in inventive power and mechanical skill, the important -achievements of Arkwright and Watt. Vaucanson's inventions died with -him; those of the great English engineers will live to increase the -happiness and comfort of mankind forever. - -Single mechanical figures, including the automaton Chess-player (which -was scarcely a fair deception, and is too well known to need more than a -passing allusion), although surprising for their special performances, -were hardly more attractive than the groups of automata which have been -from time to time exhibited. One of the Memoirs of the French Academy of -Sciences describes, in 1729, a set of mechanical puppets, which were at -that time performing a pantomime in five acts. In 1746, Bienfait, the -show-man, brought out "The Bombardment of the City of Antwerp," which -was performed in the most soldier-like manner, by automata; all the -artillery being served and discharged with that regularity which is -always attributed to clock-work. A year or two later, the same artist -produced "The Grand Assault of Bergem-op-Zoom," with unequivocal -success. He called his company _Comédiens praticiens_. - -The latest notable effort of mechanical puppet manufacture is exhibited -at Boulogne at the present time. It is that of a jeweler, who has -devoted eight years of his life to the perfection of a clock-work -conjuror; which he has made a thorough master of the thimble-rig. -Dressed in an Eastern costume, this necromancer stands behind a table, -covered, as the tables of professors of legerdemain usually are, with -little boxes and cabinets, from which he takes the objects he employs -during the exhibition. He produces his goblets, and shows the balls -under them; which vanish and reappear in the most approved style: now -two or three are conjured into a spot, a moment before vacant; -presently, these disappear again, and are perpetually divided and -re-united. - -At every exclamation of the spectators, the little conjuror turns his -eyes from side to side, as if looking round the house; smiles, casts his -eyes modestly down, bows, and resumes his sleight-of-hand. He not only -takes up the goblets from a stand, and places them over the balls, but -leaves them there for a minute, and holds his hands up, to show the -audience that he conceals nothing in his palm or sleeve. He then seizes -the goblets again and goes on. This trick over, he puts his cups away, -and shuts his cabinet. He then knocks on his table, and up starts an -egg, to which he points, to secure attention; he touches the egg (which -opens lengthwise) and a little bird starts into life; sings a -roundelay, claps its enameled wings--which are of real hummingbirds' -feathers, beyond any metallic art in lustre--and then falls back into -its egg. The little conjuror nods, smiles, rolls his eyes right and -left, bows as before, and the egg disappears into the table; he bows -again, and then sits down to intimate that the performance is over. The -height of this little gentleman is about three inches; his table and -every thing else being in due proportion. He stands on a high square -pedestal, apparently of marble. It is, however, of tin, painted white, -and within it are all the wheels and works containing the heart of the -mystery. - -This jeweler sold to a dealer, who re-sold to a Persian Prince, not long -since, a Marionnette flute-player; but whose fingering in the most -elaborate pieces, although as accurate as if Drouet or Nicholson had -been the performers, had no influence over the tune; which was played by -a concealed musical box. It was therefore, much inferior to those -mechanical flautists we have already described. The jeweler has never -ceased to regret having sold this toy. He could have borne to have -parted with it if it had remained in Europe, but that it should have -been conveyed, as he says, "to the other world," has been too cruel a -blow. "_Tout le monde_," he exclaims, "_sera enchanté de mon ouvrage; -mais, on ne parlera pas de moi, là-bas_"--all the world will be -enchanted with my work, but no one will speak of me yonder--by which -distant region, he probably means Ispahan. - -He is now perfecting a beautiful bird, which flies from spray to spray, -and sings when it alights, somewhat similarly to the little Swiss bird -which warbled so sweetly at the Great Exhibition. - - - - -MY TRAVELING COMPANION. - - -My picture was a failure. Partial friends had guaranteed its success; -but the Hanging Committee and the press are not composed of one's -partial friends. The Hanging Committee thrust me into the darkest corner -of the octagon-room, and the press ignored my existence--excepting in -one instance, when my critic dismissed me in a quarter of a line as a -"presumptuous dauber." I was stunned with the blow, for I had counted so -securely on the £200 at which my grand historical painting was -dog-cheap--not to speak of the deathless fame which it was to create for -me--that I felt like a mere wreck when my hopes were flung to the -ground, and the untasted cup dashed from my lips. I took to my bed, and -was seriously ill. The doctor bled me till I fainted, and then said, -that he had saved me from a brain-fever. That might be, but he very -nearly threw me into a consumption, only that I had a deep chest and a -good digestion. Pneumonic expansion and active chyle saved me from an -early tomb, yet I was too unhappy to be grateful. - -But why did my picture fail? Surely it possessed all the elements of -success! It was grandly historical in subject, original in treatment, -pure in coloring; what, then, was wanting? This old warrior's head, of -true Saxon type, had all the majesty of Michael Angelo; that young -figure, all the radiant grace of Correggio; no Rembrandt showed more -severe dignity than yon burnt umber monk in the corner; and Titian never -excelled the loveliness of this cobalt virgin in the foreground. Why did -it not succeed? The subject, too--the "Finding of the Body of Harold by -Torch-light"---was sacred to all English hearts; and being conceived in -an entirely new and original manner, it was redeemed from the charge of -triteness and wearisomeness. The composition was pyramidal, the apex -being a torch home aloft for the "high light," and the base showing some -very novel effects of herbage and armor. But it failed. All my skill, -all my hope, my ceaseless endeavor, my burning visions, all--all had -failed; and I was only a poor, half-starved painter, in Great -Howland-street, whose landlady was daily abating in her respect, and the -butcher daily abating in his punctuality; whose garments were getting -threadbare, and his dinners hypothetical, and whose day-dreams of fame -and fortune had faded into the dull-gray of penury and disappointment. I -was broken-hearted, ill, hungry; so I accepted an invitation from a -friend, a rich manufacturer in Birmingham, to go down to his house for -the Christmas holidays. He had a pleasant place in the midst of some -iron-works, the blazing chimneys of which, he assured me, would afford -me some exquisite studies of "light" effects. - -By mistake, I went by the Express train, and so was thrown into the -society of a lady whose position would have rendered any acquaintance -with her impossible, excepting under such chance-conditions as the -present; and whose history, as I learned it afterward, led me to reflect -much on the difference between the reality and the seeming of life. - -She moved my envy. Yes--base, mean, low, unartistic, degrading as is -this passion, I felt it rise up like a snake in my breast when I saw -that feeble woman. She was splendidly dressed--wrapped in furs of the -most costly kind, trailing behind; her velvets and lace worth a -countess's dowry. She was attended by obsequious menials; surrounded by -luxuries; her compartment of the carriage was a perfect palace in all -the accessories which it was possible to collect in so small a space; -and it seemed as though "Cleopatra's cup" would have been no -impracticable draught for her. She gave me more fully the impression of -luxury, than any person I had ever met with before; and I thought I had -reason when I envied her. - -She was lifted into the carriage carefully; carefully swathed in her -splendid furs and lustrous velvets; and placed gently, like a wounded -bird, in her warm nest of down. But she moved languidly, and fretfully -thrust aside her servants' busy hands, indifferent to her comforts, and -annoyed by her very blessings. I looked into her face: it was a strange -face, which had once been beautiful; but ill-health, and care, and -grief, had marked it now with deep lines, and colored it with unnatural -tints. Tears had washed out the roses from her cheeks, and set large -purple rings about her eyes; the mouth was hard and pinched, but the -eyelids swollen; while the crossed wrinkles on her brow told the same -tale of grief grown petulant, and of pain grown soured, as the thin lip, -quivering and querulous, and the nervous hand, never still and never -strong. - -The train-bell rang, the whistle sounded, the lady's servitors stood -bareheaded and courtesying to the ground, and the rapid rush of the iron -giant bore off the high-born dame and the starveling painter in strange -companionship. Unquiet and unresting--now shifting her place--now -letting down the glass for the cold air to blow full upon her withered -face, then drawing it up, and chafing her hands and feet by the -warm-water apparatus concealed in her _chauffe-pied_, while shivering as -if in an ague-fit--sighing deeply--lost in thought--wildly looking out -and around for distraction--she soon made me ask myself whether my envy -of her was as true as deep sympathy and pity would have been. - -"But her wealth--her wealth!" I thought. "True she may suffer, but how -gloriously she is solaced! She may weep, but the angels of social life -wipe off her tears with perfumed linen, gold embroidered; she may -grieve, but her grief makes her joys so much the more blissful. Ah! she -is to be envied after all!--envied, while I, a very beggar, might well -scorn my place now!" - -Something of this might have been in my face, as I offered my sick -companion some small attention--I forget what--gathering up one of her -luxurious trifles, or arranging her cushions. She seemed almost to read -my thoughts as her eyes rested on my melancholy face; and saying -abruptly: "I fear you are unhappy, young man?" she settled herself in -her place like a person prepared to listen to a pleasant tale. - -"I am unfortunate, madam," I answered. - -"Unfortunate?" she said impatiently. "What! with youth and health, can -you call yourself unfortunate? When the whole world lies untried before -you, and you still live in the golden atmosphere of hope, can you pamper -yourself with sentimental sorrows? Fie upon you!--fie upon you! What are -your sorrows compared with mine?" - -"I am ignorant of yours, madam," I said, respectfully; "but I know my -own; and, knowing them, I can speak of their weight and bitterness. By -your very position, you can not undergo the same kind of distress as -that overwhelming me at this moment: you may have evils in your path of -life, but they can not equal mine." - -"Can any thing equal the evils of ruined health and a desolated hearth?" -she cried, still in the same impatient manner. "Can the worst griefs of -wayward youth equal the bitterness of that cup which you drink at such a -time of life as forbids all hope of after-assuagement? Can the first -disappointment of a strong heart rank with the terrible desolation of a -wrecked old age? You think because you see about me the evidences of -wealth, that I must be happy. Young man, I tell you truly, I would -gladly give up every farthing of my princely fortune, and be reduced to -the extreme of want, to bring back from the grave the dear ones lying -there, or pour into my veins one drop of the bounding blood of health -and energy which used to make life a long play-hour of delight. Once, no -child in the fields, no bird in the sky, was more blessed than I; and -what am I now?--a sickly, lonely old woman, whose nerves are shattered -and whose heart is broken, without hope or happiness on the earth! Even -death has passed me by in forgetfulness and scorn!" - -Her voice betrayed the truth of her emotion. Still, with an accent of -bitterness and complaint, rather than of simple sorrow, it was the voice -of one fighting against her fate, more than of one suffering acutely and -in despair: it was petulant rather than melancholy; angry rather than -grieving; showing that her trials had hardened, not softened her heart. - -"Listen to me," she then said, laying her hand en my arm, "and perhaps -my history may reconcile you to the childish depression, from what cause -soever it may be, under which you are laboring. You are young and -strong, and can bear any amount of pain as yet: wait until you reach my -age, and then you will know the true meaning of the word despair! I am -rich, as you may see," she continued, pointing to her surroundings: "in -truth, so rich that I take no account either of my income or my -expenditure. I have never known life under any other form; I have never -known what it was to be denied the gratification of one desire which -wealth could purchase, or obliged to calculate the cost of a single -undertaking. I can scarcely realize the idea of poverty. I see that all -people do not live in the same style as myself; but I can not understand -that it is from inability: it always seems to me to be from their own -disinclination. I tell you, I can not fully realize the idea of poverty; -and you think this must make me happy, perhaps?" she added, sharply, -looking full in my face. - -"I should be happy, madam, if I were rich," I replied. "Suffering now -from the strain of poverty, it is no marvel if I place an undue value on -plenty." - -"Yet see what it does for me!" continued my companion. "Does it give me -back my husband, my brave boys, my beautiful girl? Does it give rest to -this weary heart, or relief to this aching head? Does it soothe my mind -or heal my body? No! It but oppresses me, like a heavy robe thrown round -weakened limbs: it is even an additional misfortune, for if I were poor, -I should be obliged to think of other things besides myself and my woes; -and the very mental exertion necessary to sustain my position would -lighten my miseries. I have seen my daughter wasting year by year and -day by day, under the warm sky of the south--under the warm care of -love! Neither climate nor affection could save her: every effort was -made--the best advice procured--the latest panacea adopted; but to no -effect. Her life was prolonged, certainly; but this simply means, that -she was three years in dying, instead of three months. She was a -gloriously lovely creature, like a fair young saint for beauty and -purity--quite an ideal thing, with her golden hair and large blue eyes! -She was my only girl--my youngest, my darling, my best treasure! My -first real sorrow--now fifteen years ago--was when I saw her laid, on -her twenty-first birthday, in the English burial-ground at Madeira. It -is on the grave-stone, that she died of consumption: would that it had -been added--and her mother of grief! From the day of her death, my -happiness left me!" - -Here the poor lady paused, and buried her face in her hands. The first -sorrow was evidently also the keenest; and I felt my own eyelids moist -as I watched this outpouring of the mother's anguish. After all, here -was grief beyond the power of wealth to assuage: here was sorrow deeper -than any mere worldly disappointment. - -"I had two sons," she went on to say, after a short time--"only two. -They were fine young men, gifted and handsome. In fact, all my children -were allowed to be very models of beauty. One entered the army, the -other the navy. The eldest went with his regiment to the Cape, where he -married a woman of low family--an infamous creature of no blood; though -she was decently conducted for a low-born thing as she was. She was -well-spoken of by those who knew her; but what _could_ she be with a -butcher for a grandfather! However, my poor infatuated son loved her to -the last. She was very pretty, I have heard--young, and timid; but being -of such fearfully low origin, of course she could not be recognized by -my husband or myself! We forbade my son all intercourse with us, unless -he would separate himself from her; but the poor boy was perfectly mad, -and he preferred this low-born wife to his father and mother. They had a -little baby, who was sent over to me when the wife died--for, thank God! -she did die in a few years' time. My son was restored to our love, and -he received our forgiveness; but we never saw him again. He took a fever -of the country, and was a corpse in a few hours. My second boy was in -the navy--a fine, high-spirited fellow, who seemed to set all the -accidents of life at defiance. I could not believe in any harm coming to -_him_. He was so strong, so healthy, so beautiful, so bright: he might -have been immortal, for all the elements of decay that showed themselves -in him. Yet this glorious young hero was drowned--wrecked off a -coral-reef, and flung like a weed on the waters. He lost his own life in -trying to save that of a common sailor--a piece of pure gold bartered -for the foulest clay! Two years after this, my husband died of typhus -fever, and I had a nervous attack, from which I have never recovered. -And now, what do you say to this history of mine? For fifteen years, I -have never been free from sorrow. No sooner did one grow so familiar to -me, that I ceased to tremble at its hideousness, than another, still -more terrible, came to overwhelm me in fresh misery. For fifteen years, -my heart has never known an hour's peace; and to the end of my life, I -shall be a desolate, miserable, broken-hearted woman. Can you -understand, now, the valuelessness of my riches, and how desolate my -splendid house must seem to me? They have been given me for no useful -purpose here or hereafter; they encumber me, and do no good to others. -Who is to have them when I die? Hospitals and schools? I hate the -medical profession, and I am against the education of the poor. I think -it the great evil of the day, and I would not leave a penny of mine to -such a radical wrong. What is to become of my wealth--?" - -"Your grandson," I interrupted, hastily: "the child of the officer." - -The old woman's face gradually softened. "Ah! he is a lovely boy," she -said; "but I don't love him--no, I don't," she repeated, vehemently. "If -I set my heart on him, he will die or turn out ill: take to the low ways -of his wretched mother, or die some horrible death. I steel my heart -against him, and shut him out from my calculations of the future. He is -a sweet boy: interesting, affectionate, lovely; but I will not allow -myself to love him, and I don't allow him to love me! But you ought to -see him. His hair is like my own daughter's--long, glossy, golden hair; -and his eyes are large and blue, and the lashes curl on his cheek like -heavy fringes. He is too pale and too thin: he looks sadly delicate; but -his wretched mother was a delicate little creature, and he has doubtless -inherited a world of disease and poor blood from her. I wish he was here -though, for you to see; but I keep him at school, for when he is much -with me, I feel myself beginning to be interested in him; and I do not -wish to love him--I do not wish to remember him at all! With that -delicate frame and nervous temperament, he _must_ die; and why should I -prepare fresh sorrow for myself, by taking him into my heart, only to -have him plucked out again by death?" - -All this was said with the most passionate vehemence of manner, as if -she were defending herself against some unjust charge. I said something -in the way of remonstrance. Gently and respectfully, but firmly, I spoke -of the necessity for each soul to spiritualize its aspirations, and to -raise itself from the trammels of earth; and in speaking thus to her, I -felt my own burden lighten off my heart, and I acknowledged that I had -been both foolish and sinful in allowing my first disappointment to -shadow all the sunlight of my existence. I am not naturally of a -desponding disposition, and nothing but a blow as severe as the -non-success of my "Finding the Body of Harold by Torch-light" could have -affected me to the extent of mental prostration, as that under which I -was now laboring. But this was very hard to bear! My companion listened -to me with a kind of blank surprise, evidently unaccustomed to the -honesty of truth; but she bore my remarks patiently, and when I had -ended, she even thanked me for my advice. - -"And now, tell me the cause of your melancholy face?" she asked, as we -were nearing Birmingham. "Your story can not be very long, and I shall -have just enough time to hear it." - -I smiled at her authoritative tone, and said quietly: "I am an artist, -madam, and I had counted much on the success of my first historical -painting. It has failed, and I am both penniless and infamous. I -am the 'presumptuous dauber' of the critics--despised by my -creditors--emphatically a failure throughout." - -"Pshaw!" cried the lady, impatiently; "and what is that for a grief! a -day's disappointment which a day's labor can repair! To me, your -troubles seem of no more worth than a child's tears when he has broken -his newest toy! Here is Birmingham, and I must bid you farewell. Perhaps -you will open the door for me? Good-morning: you have made my journey -pleasant, and relieved my ennui. I shall be happy to see you in town, -and to help you forward in your career." - -And with these words, said in a strange, indifferent, matter-of-fact -tone, as of one accustomed to all the polite offers of good society, -which mean nothing tangible, she was lifted from the carriage by a train -of servants, and borne off the platform. - -I looked at the card which she placed in my hand, and read the address -of "Mrs. Arden, Belgrave-square." - -I found my friend waiting for me; and in a few moments was seated before -a blazing fire in a magnificent drawing-room, surrounded with every -comfort that hospitality could offer, or luxury invent. - -"Here, at least, is happiness," I thought, as I saw the family assemble -in the drawing-room before dinner. "Here are beauty, youth, wealth, -position--all that makes life valuable. What concealed skeleton can -there be in this house to frighten away one grace of existence? -None--none! They must be happy; and, oh! what a contrast to that poor -lady I met with to-day; and what a painful contrast to myself!" - -And all my former melancholy returned like a heavy cloud upon my brow; -and I felt that I stood like some sad ghost in a fairy-land of beauty, -so utterly out of place was my gloom in the midst of all this gayety and -splendor. - -One daughter attracted my attention more than the rest. She was the -eldest, a beautiful girl of about twenty-three, or she might have been -even a few years older. Her face was quite of the Spanish style--dark, -expressive, and tender; and her manners were the softest and most -bewitching I had ever seen. She was peculiarly attractive to an artist, -from the exceeding beauty of feature, as well as from the depth of -expression which distinguished her. I secretly sketched her portrait on -my thumb-nail, and in my own mind I determined to make her the model for -my next grand attempt at historical composition--"the Return of -Columbus." She was to be the Spanish queen; and I thought of myself as -Ferdinand; for I was not unlike a Spaniard in appearance, and I was -almost as brown. - -I remained with my friend a fortnight, studying the midnight effects of -the iron-foundries, and cultivating the acquaintance of Julia. In these -two congenial occupations, the time passed like lightning, and I woke as -from a pleasant dream, to the knowledge of the fact, that my visit was -expected to be brought to a close. I had been asked, I remembered, for a -week, and I had doubled my furlough. I hinted at breakfast, that I was -afraid I must leave my kind friends to-morrow, and a general regret was -expressed, but no one asked me to stay longer; so the die was unhappily -cast. - -Julia was melancholy. I could not but observe it; and I confess that the -observation caused me more pleasure than pain. Could it be sorrow at my -departure? We had been daily, almost hourly, companions for fourteen -days, and the surmise was not unreasonable. She had always shown me -particular kindness, and she could not but have seen my marked -preference for her. My heart beat wildly as I gazed on her pale cheek -and drooping eyelid; for though she had been always still and gentle, I -had never seen--certainly I had never noticed--such evident traces of -sorrow, as I saw in her face to-day. Oh, if it were for me, how I would -bless each pang which pained that beautiful heart!--how I would cherish -the tears that fell, as if they had been priceless diamonds from the -mine!--how I would joy in her grief and live in her despair! It might be -that out of evil would come good, and from the deep desolation of my -unsold "Body" might arise the heavenly blessedness of such love as this! -I was intoxicated with my hopes; and was on the point of making a public -idiot of myself, but happily some slight remnant of common sense was -left me. However, impatient to learn my fate, I drew Julia aside; and, -placing myself at her feet, while she was enthroned on a luxurious -ottoman, I pretended that I must conclude the series of lectures on art, -and the best methods of coloring, on which I had been employed with her -ever since my visit. - -"You seem unhappy to-day, Miss Reay," I said, abruptly, with my voice -trembling like a girl's. - -She raised her large eyes languidly. "Unhappy? no, I am never unhappy," -she said, quietly. - -Her voice never sounded so silvery sweet, so pure and harmonious. It -fell like music on the air. - -"I have, then, been too much blinded by excess of beauty to have been -able to see correctly," I answered. "To me you have appeared always -calm, but never sad; but to-day there is a palpable weight of sorrow on -you, which a child might read. It is in your voice, and on your eyelids, -and round your lips; it is on you like the moss on the young -rose--beautifying while vailing the dazzling glory within." - -"Ah! you speak far too poetically for me," said Julia, smiling. "If you -will come down to my level for a little while, and will talk to me -rationally, I will tell you my history. I will tell it you as a lesson -for yourself, which I think will do you good." - -The cold chill that went to my soul! Her history! It was no diary of -facts that I wanted to hear, but only a register of feelings--a register -of feelings in which I should find myself the only point whereto the -index was set. History! what events deserving that name could have -troubled the smooth waters of her life? - -I was silent, for I was disturbed; but Julia did not notice either my -embarrassment or my silence, and began, in her low, soft voice, to open -one of the saddest chapters of life which I had ever heard. - -"You do not know that I am going into a convent?" she said; then, -without waiting for an answer, she continued: "This is the last month of -my worldly life. In four weeks, I shall have put on the white robe of -the novitiate, and in due course I trust to be dead forever to this -earthly life." - -A heavy, thick, choking sensation in my throat, and a burning pain -within my eyeballs, warned me to keep silence. My voice would have -betrayed me. - -"When I was seventeen," continued Julia, "I was engaged to my cousin. We -had been brought up together from childhood, and we loved each other -perfectly. You must not think, because I speak so calmly now, that I -have not suffered in the past. It is only by the grace of resignation -and of religion, that I have been brought to my present condition of -spiritual peace. I am now five-and-twenty--next week I shall be -six-and-twenty: that is just nine years since I was first engaged to -Laurence. He was not rich enough, and indeed he was far too young, to -marry, for he was only a year older than myself; and if he had had the -largest possible amount of income, we could certainly not have married -for three years. My father never cordially approved of the engagement, -though he did not oppose it. Laurence was taken partner into a large -concern here, and a heavy weight of business was immediately laid on -him. Youthful as he was, he was made the sole and almost irresponsible -agent in a house which counted its capital by millions, and through -which gold flowed like water. For some time, he went on well--to a -marvel, well. He was punctual, vigilant, careful; but the responsibility -was too much for the poor boy: the praises he received, the flattery and -obsequiousness which, for the first time, were lavished on the -friendless youth, the wealth at his command, all turned his head. For a -long time, we heard vague rumors of irregular conduct; but as he was -always the same good, affectionate, respectful, happy Laurence, when -with us, even my father, who is so strict, and somewhat suspicious, -turned a deaf ear to them. I was the earliest to notice a slight change, -first in his face, and then in his manners. At last, the rumors ceased -to be vague, and became definite. Business neglected; fatal habits -visible, even in the early day; the frightful use of horrible words, -which once he would have trembled to use; the nights passed at the -gaming-table, and the days spent in the society of the worst men on the -turf--all these accusations were brought to my father by credible -witnesses; and, alas! they were too true to be refuted. My -father--heaven and the holy saints bless his gray head!--kept them from -me as long as he could. He forgave him again and again, and used every -means that love and reason could employ to bring him back into the way -of right; but he could do nothing against the force of such fatal habits -as those to which my poor Laurence had now become wedded. With every -good intention, and with much strong love for me burning sadly amid the -wreck of his virtues, he yet would not refrain: the evil one had -overcome him; he was his prey here and hereafter. Oh, no--not -hereafter!" she added, raising her hands and eyes to heaven, "if prayer, -if fasting, patient vigil, incessant striving, may procure him -pardon--not forever his prey! Our engagement was broken off; and this -step, necessary as it was, completed his ruin. He died...." Here a -strong shudder shook her from head to foot and I half rose, in alarm. -The next instant she was calm. - -"Now, you know my history," continued she. "It is a tragedy of real -life, which you will do well, young painter, to compare with your own!" -With a kindly pressure of the hand, and a gentle smile--oh! so sweet, so -pure and heavenly!--Julia Reay left me; while I sat perfectly awed--that -is the only word I can use--with the revelation which she had made both -of her history and of her own grand soul. - -"Come with me to my study," said Mr. Reay, entering the room; "I have a -world to talk to you about. You go to-morrow, you say. I am sorry for -it; but I must therefore settle my business with you in good time -to-day." - -I followed him mechanically, for I was undergoing a mental castigation -which rather disturbed me. Indeed, like a young fool--as eager in -self-reproach as in self-glorification--I was so occupied in inwardly -calling myself hard names, that even when my host gave me a commission -for my new picture, "The Return of Columbus," at two hundred and fifty -pounds, together with an order to paint himself, Mrs. Reay, and -half-a-dozen of their children, I confess it with shame, that I received -the news like a leaden block, and felt neither surprise nor joy--not -though these few words chased me from the gates of the Fleet, whither I -was fast hastening, and secured me both position and daily bread. The -words of that beautiful girl were still ringing in my ears, mixed up -with the bitterest self-accusations; and these together shut out all -other sound, however pleasant. But that was always my way. - -I went back to London, humbled and yet strengthened, having learned more -of human nature and the value of events, in one short fortnight, than I -had ever dreamed of before. The first lessons of youth generally come in -hard shape. I had sense enough to feel that I had learned mine gently, -and that I had cause to be thankful for the mildness of the teaching. -From a boy, I became a man, judging more accurately of humanity than a -year's ordinary experience would have enabled me to do. And the moral -which I drew was this: that under our most terrible afflictions, we may -always gain some spiritual good, if we suffer them to be softening and -purifying, rather than hardening influences over us. And also, that -while we are suffering the most acutely, we may be sure that others are -suffering still more acutely; and if we would but sympathize with them -more than with ourselves--live out of our own selves, and in the wide -world around us--we would soon be healed while striving to heal others. -Of this I am convinced: the secret of life, and of all its good, is in -love; and while we preserve this, we can never fail of comfort. The -sweet waters will always gush out over the sandiest desert of our lives -while we can love; but without it--nay, not the merest weed of comfort -or of virtue would grow under the feet of angels. In this was the -distinction between Mrs. Arden and Julia Reay. The one had hardened her -heart under her trials, and shut it up in itself; the other had opened -hers to the purest love of man and love of God; and the result was to be -seen in the despair of the one, and in the holy peace of the other. - -Full of these thoughts, I sought out my poor lady, determined to do her -real benefit if I could. She received me very kindly, for I had taken -care to provide myself with a sufficient introduction, so as to set all -doubts of my social position at rest: and I knew how far this would go -with her. We soon became fast friends. She seemed to rest on me much for -sympathy and comfort, and soon grew to regard me with a sort of motherly -fondness that of itself brightened her life. I paid her all the -attention which a devoted son might pay--humored her whims, soothed her -pains; but insensibly I led her mind out from itself---first in kindness -to me, and then in love to her grandson. - -I asked for him just before the midsummer holidays, and with great -difficulty obtained an invitation for him to spend them with her. She -resisted my entreaties stoutly, but at last was obliged to yield; not to -me, nor to my powers of persuasion, but to the holy truth of which I was -then the advocate. The child came, and I was there also to receive him, -and to enforce by my presence--which I saw, without vanity, had great -influence--a fitting reception. He was a pensive, clever, interesting -little fellow; sensitive and affectionate, timid, gifted with wonderful -powers, and of great beauty. There was a shy look in his eyes, which -made me sure that he inherited much of his loveliness from his mother; -and when we were great friends, he showed me a small portrait of "Poor -mamma;" and I saw at once the most striking likeness between the two. No -human heart could withstand that boy, certainly not my poor friend's. -She yielded, fighting desperately against me and him, and all the powers -of love, which were subduing her, but yielding while she fought; and in -a short time the child had taken his proper place in her affections, -which he kept to the end of her life. And she, that desolate mother, -even she, with her seared soul and petrified heart, was brought to the -knowledge of peace by the glorious power of love. - -Prosperous, famous, happy, blessed in home and hearth, this has become -my fundamental creed of life, the basis on which all good, whether of -art or of morality, is rested: of art especially; for only by a tender, -reverent spirit can the true meaning of his vocation be made known to -the artist. All the rest is mere imitation of form, not insight into -essence. And while I feel that I can live out of myself, and love -others--the whole world of man--more than myself, I know that I possess -the secret of happiness; ay, though my powers were suddenly blasted as -by lightning, my wife and children laid in the cold grave, and my happy -home desolated forever. For I would go out into the thronged streets, -and gather up the sorrows of others, to relieve them; and I would go out -under the quiet sky, and look up to the Father's throne; and I would -pluck peace, as green herbs from active benevolence and contemplative -adoration. Yes; love can save from the sterility of selfishness, -and from the death of despair; but love alone. No other talisman -has the power; pride, self-sustainment, coldness, pleasure, -nothing--nothing--but that divine word of Life which is life's soul! - - - - -THE LITTLE SISTERS. - - -Almsgiving takes the place of the work-house system, in the economy of a -large part of Europe. The giving of alms to the helpless is, moreover, -in Catholic countries, a religious office. The voluntary surrender of -gifts, each according to his ability, as a means of grace, is more -prominently insisted upon than among Protestants; consequently -systematic taxation for the poor is not resorted to. Nor is there so -great a necessity for it as in England; for few nations have so many -paupers to provide for as the English are accustomed to regard as a -natural element in society; and thus it happens, that when, about ten -years ago, there was in France no asylum but the hospital, for aged and -ailing poor, the want of institutions for the infirm but healthy was not -so severe as to attract the public eye. - -But there was at that time a poor servant-woman, a native of the village -of La Croix, in Brittany--Jeanne Sugon was her name--who was moved by -the gentleness of her heart, and the fervor of her religion, to pity a -certain infirm and destitute neighbor, to take her to her side as a -companion, and to devote herself to her support. Other infirm people -earned, by their helplessness, a claim on her attention. She went about -begging, when she could not work, that she might preserve life as long -as Nature would grant it to her infirm charges. Her example spread a -desire for the performance of similar good offices. Two pious women, her -neighbors, united with Jeanne in her pious office. These women -cherished, as they were able, aged and infirm paupers; nursed them in a -little house, and begged for them in the vicinity. The three women, who -had so devoted themselves, attracted notice, and were presently received -into the order of Sisters of Charity, in which they took for themselves -the name of "Little Sisters of the Poor"--PETITES S[OE]RS DES PAUVRES. - -The first house of the Little Sisters of the Poor was opened at St. -Servan, in Brittany. A healthy flower scatters seed around. We saw that -forcibly illustrated, in the progress, from an origin equally humble, of -the Rauhe Haus, near Hamburgh: we see it now again, in the efforts of -the Little Sisters, which flourished and fructified with prompt -usefulness. On the tenth anniversary of the establishment at St. Servan, -ten similar houses had been founded in ten different French towns. - -The _Petites S[oe]urs_ live with their charges in the most frugal way, -upon the scraps and waste meat which they can collect from the -surrounding houses. The voluntary contributions by which they support -their institution, are truly the crumbs falling from the rich man's -table. The nurse fares no better than the objects of her care. She lives -upon equal terms with Lazarus, and acts toward him in the spirit of a -younger sister. - -The establishment at Dinan, over which Jeanne Sugon herself presides, -being under repair, and not quite fit for the reception of visitors, we -will go over the Sisters' house at Paris, which is conducted on exactly -the same plan. - -We are ushered into a small parlor, scantily furnished, with some -Scripture prints upon the walls. A Sister enters to us with such a -bright look of cheerfulness as faces wear when hearts beneath them feel -that they are beating to some purpose in the world. She accedes gladly -to our desire, and at once leads us into another room of larger size, in -which twenty or thirty old women are at this moment finishing their -dinner; it being Friday, rice stands on the table in the place of meat. -The Sister moves and speaks with the gentleness of a mother among -creatures who are in, or are near to the state of second childhood. You -see an old dame fumbling eagerly over her snuff-box lid. The poor -creatures are not denied luxuries; for, whatever they can earn by their -spinning is their own money, and they buy with it any indulgences they -please; among which nothing is so highly prized or eagerly coveted as a -pinch of snuff. - -In the dormitories on the first floor, some lie bed-ridden. Gentler -still, if possible, is now the Sister's voice. The rooms throughout the -house are airy, with large windows, and those inhabited by the Sisters -are distinguished from the rest by no mark of indulgence or superiority. - -We descend now into the old men's department; and enter a warm room, -with a stove in the centre. One old fellow has his feet upon a little -foot-warmer, and thinly pipes out, that he is very comfortable now, for -he is always warm. The chills of age, and the chills of the cold -pavement remain together in his memory; but he is very comfortable -now--very comfortable. An other decrepit man, with white hair and bowed -back--who may have been proud, in his youth, of a rich voice for -love-song, talks of music to the Sister; and, on being asked to sing, -blazes out with joyous gestures, and strikes up a song of Béranger's in -a cracked, shaggy voice, which sometimes--like a river given to flow -under ground--is lost entirely, and then bubbles up again, quite thick -with mud. - -We go into a little oratory, where all pray together nightly before they -retire to rest. Thence we descend into a garden for the men; and pass -thence by a door into the women's court. The chapel-bell invites us to -witness the assembly of the Sisters for the repetition of their psalms -and litanies. From the chapel we return into the court, and enter a -large room, where the women are all busy with their spinning-wheels. One -old soul immediately totters to the Sister (not the same Sister with -whom we set out), and insists on welcoming her daughter with a kiss. We -are informed that it is a delusion of her age to recognize in this -Sister really her own child, who is certainly far away, and may possibly -be dead. The Sister embraces her affectionately, and does nothing to -disturb the pleasant thought. - -And now we go into the kitchen. Preparation for coffee is in progress. -The dregs of coffee that have been collected from the houses of the -affluent in the neighborhood, are stewed for a long time with great -care. The Sisters say they produce a very tolerable result; and, at any -rate, every inmate is thus enabled to have a cup of coffee every -morning, to which love is able to administer the finest Mocha flavor. A -Sister enters from her rounds out of doors with two cans full of broken -victuals. She is a healthy, and, I think, a handsome woman. Her daily -work is to go out with the cans directly after she has had her morning -coffee, and to collect food for the ninety old people that are in the -house. As fast as she fills her cans, she brings them to the kitchen, -and goes out again; continuing in this work daily till four o'clock. - -You do not like this begging? What are the advertisements on behalf of -our own hospitals? what are the collectors? what are the dinners, the -speeches, the charity sermons? A few weak women, strong in heart, -without advertisement, or dinners, or charity sermons; without urgent -appeals to a sympathizing public; who have no occasion to exercitate -charity, by enticing it to balls and to theatrical benefits; patiently -collect waste food from house to house, and feed the poor with it, -humbly and tenderly. - -The cans are now to be emptied; the contents being divided into four -compartments, according to their nature--broken meat, vegetables, slices -of pudding, fish, &c. Each is afterward submitted to the best cookery -that can be contrived. The choicest things are set aside--these, said a -Sister, with a look of satisfaction, will be for our poor dear sick. - -The number of Sisters altogether in this house engaged in attendance on -the ninety infirm paupers, is fourteen. They divide the duties of the -house among themselves. Two serve in the kitchen, two in the laundry; -one begs, one devotes herself to constant personal attendance on the -wants of the old men, and so on with the others, each having her special -department. The whole sentiment of the household is that of a very large -and very amiable family. To feel that they console the last days of the -infirm and aged poor, is all the Little Sisters get for their hard work. - - - - -HOW GUNPOWDER IS MADE.--VISIT TO HOUNSLOW MILLS. - - -Hounslow Gunpowder Mills are not so much like a special "town," as so -many other large manufactories appear, but rather have the appearance of -an infant colony--a very infant one, inasmuch as it has very few -inhabitants. We never met a single man in all our rambles through the -plantations, nor heard the sound of a human voice. It is like a strange -new settlement, where there is ample space, plenty of wood and water, -but with scarcely any colonists, and only here and there a log-hut or a -dark shed among the trees. - -These works are distributed over some hundred and fifty acres of land, -without reckoning the surface of the Colne, which, sometimes broad, -sometimes narrow, sometimes in a line, and sometimes coiling, and -escaping by a curve out of sight, intersects the whole place. It is, in -fact, a great straggling plantation of firs, over swells and declivities -of land, with a branch or neck of a river meeting you unexpectedly at -almost every turn. The more we have seen of this dismal settlement "in -the bush," the more do we revert to our first impression on entering it. -The place is like the strange and squalid plantation of some necromancer -in Spenser's "Fairy Queen." Many trees are black and shattered, as if by -lightning; others distorted, writhing, and partially stripped of their -bark; and all of them have a sort of conscious look that this is a very -precarious spot for the regular progress of vegetation. You wander up -narrow winding paths, and you descend narrow winding paths; you see the -broad arm of a river, with little swampy osier islands upon it, and then -you enter another plantation, and come upon a narrow winding neck of -river, leading up to a great black slanting structure, which you are -told is a "blast-wall;" and behind this is the green embankment of a -fortification, and further back you come upon one of the black, -ominous-looking powder "houses." You advance along other tortuous paths, -you cross small bridges, and again you enter a plantation, more or less -sombre, and presently emerge upon an open space, where you see a -semicircular road of red gravel, with cart-ruts deeply trenched in it; -and then another narrower road down to a branch of the river, where -there is another little bridge; and beyond this, on the other side, you -see a huge water-wheel revolving between two black barn-like houses. -You ascend a slope, by a path of mud and slush, and arriving at another -larger open space, you find yourself in front of a sheet of water, and -in the distance you observe one enormous wheel--the diabolical queen of -all the rest--standing, black and immovable, like an antediluvian -skeleton, against the dull, gray sky, with a torrent of water running in -a long narrow gully from beneath its lower spokes, as if disgorged -before its death. This open space is surrounded by trees, above which, -high over all, there rises a huge chimney, or rather tower; and again, -over all this there float clouds of black smoke, derived from charred -wood, if we may judge of the effect upon our noses and eyes. - -At distances from each other, varying from thirty or forty to a hundred -and fifty yards, over this settlement are distributed, by systematic -arrangement of the intervals, and the obstructive character of the -intervening ground and plantations, no less than ninety-seven different -buildings. By these means, not only is the danger divided, but the loss, -by an explosion, reduced to the one "house" in which the accident -occurs. Such, at least, is the intention, though certainly not always -affording the desired protection. The houses are also, for the most -part, constructed of light materials, where the nature of the operation -will admit of it; sometimes extremely strong below, but very light -above, like a man in armor with a straw hat; so that if a "puff" comes, -there will be a free way upward, and they hope to get rid of the fury -with no greater loss than a light roof. In some cases the roofs are of -concrete, and bomb-proof; in others, the roofs are floated with water in -shallow tanks. There are five steam-engines employed, one being a -locomotive; and the extraordinary number of twenty-six water-mills, as -motive powers for machinery--obviously much safer than any other that -could be obtained from the most guarded and covered-in engines requiring -furnaces. - -In this silent region, amidst whose ninety-seven work-places no human -voice ever breaks upon the ear, and where, indeed, no human form is seen -except in the isolated house in which his allotted task is performed, -there are secreted upward of two hundred and fifty work-people. They are -a peculiar race; not, of course, by nature, in most cases, but by the -habit of years. The circumstances of momentary destruction in which they -live, added to the most stringent and necessary regulations, have -subdued their minds and feelings to the conditions of their hire. There -is seldom any need to enforce these regulations. Some terrific explosion -here, or in works of a similar kind elsewhere, leaves a fixed mark in -their memories, and acts as a constant warning. Here no shadow of a -practical joke, or caper of animal spirits ever transpires; no -witticisms, no oaths, no chaffing, or slang. A laugh is never heard; a -smile seldom seen. Even the work is carried on by the men with as few -words as possible, and these uttered in a low tone. Not that any body -fancies that mere sound will awaken the spirit of combustion, or cause -an explosion to take place, but that their feelings are always kept -subdued. If one man wishes to communicate any thing to another, or to -ask for any thing from somebody at a short distance, he must go there; -he is never permitted to shout or call out. There is a particular reason -for this last regulation. Amidst all this silence, whenever a shout -_does_ occur, every body knows that some imminent danger is expected the -next moment, and all rush away headlong from the direction of the shout. -As to running toward it to offer any assistance, as common in all other -cases, it is thoroughly understood that none can be afforded. An -accident here is immediate and beyond remedy. If the shouting be -continued for some time (for a man might be drowning in the river), that -might cause one or two of the boldest to return; but this would be a -very rare occurrence. It is by no means to be inferred that the men are -selfish and insensible to the perils of each other; on the contrary, -they have the greatest consideration for each other, as well as for -their employers, and think of the danger to the lives of others, and of -the property at stake at all times, and more especially in all the more -dangerous "houses." The proprietors of the various gunpowder mills all -display the same consideration for each other, and whenever any -improvement tending to lessen danger is discovered by one, it is -immediately communicated to all the others. The wages of the men are -good, and the hours very short; no artificial lights are ever used in -the works. They all wash themselves--black, white, yellow, and -bronze--and leave the mills at half-past three in the afternoon, winter -and summer. - -After several unsuccessful attempts to effect an entrance into one of -the mysterious manufactories--attributable solely to the dangers of -utter destruction that momentarily hover over all works of this kind, -and not in the least from any want of courtesy in the proprietors--we -eventually obtained permission to inspect these mills owned by the -Messrs. Curtis, which are among the largest works of the kind in Europe. -It was a very wet day, but that circumstance was rather favorable than -otherwise, as our obliging companion, Mr. Ashbee, the manager of the -works, considerately informed us. After visiting successively the mills -where the charcoal, saltpetre, and brimstone, are separately prepared, -we plash our way over the wet path to the "incorporation mill"--a -sufficiently dangerous place. Having exchanged our boots for India -rubber over-shoes, we enter and find the machinery--consisting of two -ponderous, upright millstones, rolling round like wagon-wheels, in a -small circle. In the bed beneath these huge rolling stones lies, not -one, but the _three_ terrible ingredients of powdered charcoal, -saltpetre, and sulphur, which are thus incorporated. The bed upon which -the stones roll is of iron; from it the stones would inevitably strike -sparks--and "there an end of all"--if they came in contact in any part. -But between the stones and the iron bed lies the incorporating -powder--forty pounds of it giving a bed of intermediate powder, of two -or three inches deep; so that the explosive material is absolutely the -only protection. So long as the powder lies in this bed with no part of -the iron left bare, all is considered to be safe. To keep it within the -bed, therefore--while the rolling twist of the stones is continually -displacing it, and rubbing it outward and inward--several mechanical -contrivances are adopted, which act like guides, and scoops, and -scrapers; and thus restore, with regularity, the powder to its proper -place, beneath the stones. A water-wheel keeps this mill in action. No -workmen remain here; but the time required for the incorporating process -being known, the bed of powder is laid down, the mill set in motion, and -then shut up and left to itself--as it ought to be, in case of any -little oversight or "hitch" on the part of the guides, scoops, or -scrapers. The machinery of these mills, as may be readily credited, is -always kept in the finest order. "And yet," says Mr. Ashbee, in a -whisper; "and yet, five of them--just such mills as these--_went off_ at -Faversham, the other day, one after the other. Nobody knew how." This -seasonable piece of information naturally increases the peculiar -interest we feel in the objects we are now examining, as they proceed -with their work. - -The next house we visit, Mr. Ashbee assures us, is a very interesting -process. To be sure, it is one of the most dangerous; and what makes -this worse, is the fact that the process is of that kind which requires -the constant presence of the men. They can not set the machinery to -work, and leave it for a given time; they must always remain on the -spot. It is the "Corning House" sometimes called "Graining," as it is -the process which reduces the cakes and hard knobs, into which the -gunpowder has been forced by hydraulic pressure, into grains--a very -nice, and, it would appear, a sufficiently alarming operation. - -Ascending by a rising pathway, we pass over a mound covered with a -plantation of firs, and descending to a path by the river side, we -arrive at a structure of black timber, some five-and-twenty feet high, -set up in the shape of an acute angle. This is a "blast-wall," intended -to offer some resistance to a rush of air in case of an explosion near -at hand. There is also a similar blast-wall on the opposite side of the -river. Passing this structure, we arrive at a green embankment thrown up -as in fortified places, and behind and beneath this stands the "Corning -House." - -It is a low-roofed, black edifice, like the rest, although, if possible, -with a still more dismal appearance. We know not what causes the -impression, but we could fancy it some place of torture, devoted to the -service of the darkest pagan superstitions, or those of the Holy -Inquisition. A little black vestibule, or out-house, stands on the side -nearest us. The whole structure is planted on the river's edge, to which -the platform in front extends. We enter the little vestibule, and here -we go through the ceremony of the over-shoes. We are then permitted to -advance upon the sacred platform, and we then approach the entrance. If -we have received a strange and unaccountable impression of a place of -torture, from the external appearance and surrounding circumstances, -this is considerably borne out by the interior. The first thing that -seems to justify this is a dry, strangulated, shrieking cry which -continues at intervals. We discover that it is the cry of a wooden screw -in torment, which in some sort reconciles us. But the sound lingers, and -the impression too. The flooring is all covered with leather and hides, -all perfectly black with the dust of gunpowder, and on this occasion all -perfectly dry. We do not much like that: the wet sliding about was more -amusing; perhaps, also, a trifle safer. - -The first object that seizes upon our attention is a black square -frame-work, apparently suspended from the ceiling. Its ugly -perpendicular beams, and equally uncouth horizontal limbs would be just -the thing to hang the dead bodies of tortured victims in. We can not -help following up our first impression. The men here, who stand in -silence looking intently at us, all wear black masks. On the left there -is reared a structure of black wood reaching to within two or three feet -of the roof. It is built up in several stages, descending like broad -steps. Each of these broad steps contains a sieve made of closely woven -wire, which becomes finer as the steps get lower and lower. In this -machine we noticed iron axles for the wheels, but our attention was -directed to the rollers, which were of zinc. Thus the friction does not -induce sparks, the action being also guarded against external blows. At -present the machine is not in motion; and the men at work here observe -their usual silence and depressing gravity. We conjecture that the -machine, when put in motion, shakes and sifts the gunpowder in a slow -and most cautious manner, corresponding to the seriousness of the human -workers, and with an almost equal sense of the consequences of iron -mistaking for once the nature of copper and brass. "Put _on_ the house!" -says Mr. Ashbee, in the calm voice always used here, and nodding at the -same time to the head corning-man. A rumbling sound is heard--the wheels -begin to turn--the black sieves bestir themselves, moving from side to -side; the wheels turn faster--the sieves shake and shuffle faster. We -trust there is no mistake. They all get faster still. We do not wish -them to put themselves to any inconvenience on our account. The full -speed is laid on! The wheels whirl and buzz--iron teeth play into brass -teeth--copper winks at iron--the black sieves shake their infernal sides -into fury--the whole machine seems bent upon its own destruction--the -destruction of us all! Now--one small spark--and in an instant the whole -of this house, with all in it, would be instantly swept away! Nobody -seems to think of this. And see!--how the gunpowder rashes from side to -side of the sieves, and pours down from one stage to the other. We feel -sure that all this must be much faster than usual. We do not wish it. -Why should pride prevent our requesting that this horror should cease? -We hear, also, an extraordinary noise behind us. Turning hastily round, -we see the previously immovable black frame-work for the dead whirling -round and round in the air with frightful rapidity, while two men with -wooden shovels are shoveling up showers of gunpowder, as if to smother -and suffocate its madness. Nothing but shame--nothing but shame and an -anguish of self-command, prevents our instantly darting out of the -house--across the platform--and headlong into the river. - -What a house--what a workshop! It is quiet again. We have not sprung -into the river. But had we been alone here, under such circumstances for -the first time, we should have had no subsequent respect for our own -instincts and promptitude of action if we had done any thing else. As it -was, the thing is a sensation for life. We find that the whirling -frame-work also contains sieves--that the invisible moving power is by a -water-wheel under the flooring, which acts by a crank. But we are very -much obliged already--we have had enough of "corning." - -We take our departure over the platform--have our over-shoes taken -off--and finding that there is something more to see, we rally and -recover our breath, and are again on the path by the water's edge. A man -is coming down the river with a small covered barge, carrying powder -from one house to another. We remark that boating must be one of the -safest positions, not only as unconducive to explosion, but even in case -of its occurring elsewhere. Mr. Ashbee coincides in this opinion, -although, he adds, that some time ago, a man coming down the river in a -boat--just as that one is now doing--had his right arm blown off. We see -that, in truth, _no_ position is safe. One may be "blown off" any where, -at any moment. Thus pleasantly conversing as we walk, we arrive at the -"Glazing-House." - -The process of glazing consists in mixing black-lead with gunpowder in -large grains, and glazing, or giving it a fine glossy texture. For this -purpose four barrels containing the grains are ranged on an axle. They -are made to revolve during four hours, to render them smooth; black-lead -is then added, and they revolve four hours more. There is iron in this -machinery; but it works upon brass or copper wheels, so that friction -generates heat, but not fire. The process continues from eight to -twenty-four hours, according to the fineness of polish required; and the -revolution of the barrels sometimes causes the heat of the gunpowder -within to rise to one hundred and twenty degrees--even to charring the -wood of the interior of the barrels by the heat and friction. We inquire -what degree of heat they may be in at the present moment? It is rather -high, we learn; and the head-glazer politely informs us that we may put -our hand and arm into the barrels and feel the heat. He opens it at the -top for the purpose. We take his word for it. However, as he inserts one -hand and arm by way of example, we feel in some sort called upon, for -the honor of "Household Words," to do the same. It is extremely hot, -and a most agreeable sensation. The faces of the men here, being all -black from the powder, and shining with the addition of the black lead, -have the appearance of grim masks of demons in a pantomime, or rather of -real demons in a mine. Their eyes look out upon us with a strange -intelligence. They know the figure they present. So do we. This, added -to their subdued voice, and whispering, and mute gesticulation, and -noiseless moving and creeping about, renders the scene quite unique; and -a little of it goes a great way. - -Our time being now short--our hours, in fact, being "numbered"--we move -quickly on to the next house, some hundred yards distant. It is the -"Stoving-house." We approach the door. Mr. Ashbee is so good as to say -there is no need for us to enter, as the process may be seen from the -door-way. We are permitted to stand upon the little platform outside, in -our boots, dispensing with the over-shoes. This house is heated by -pipes. The powder is spread upon numerous wooden trays, and slid into -shelves on stands, or racks. The heat is raised to one hundred and -twenty-five degrees. We salute the head stove-man, and depart. But -turning round to give a "longing, lingering look behind," we see a large -mop protruded from the door-way. Its round head seems to inspect the -place where we stood in our boots on the platform. It evidently -discovers a few grains of gravel or grit, and descends upon them -immediately, to expurgate the evil communication which may corrupt the -good manners of the house. A great watering-pot is next advanced, and -then a stern head--not unlike an old medallion we have seen of -Diogenes--looks round the door-post after us. - -The furnace, with its tall chimney, by means of which the stove-pipes of -the house we have just visited, are heated, is at a considerable -distance, the pipes being carried under-ground to the house. - -We next go to look at the "Packing-house," where the powder is placed in -barrels, bags, tin cases, paper cases, canisters, &c. On entering this -place, a man runs swiftly before each of us, laying down a mat for each -foot to step upon as we advance, thus leaving rows of mats in our wake, -over which we are required to pass on returning. We considered it a mark -of great attention--a kind of Oriental compliment. - -The last of our visits is to a "Charge-House." There are several of -these, where the powder is kept in store. We approach it by a path -through a plantation. It lies deep among the trees--a most lonely, -dismal sarcophagus. It is roofed with water--that is, the roof is -composed of water-tanks, which are filled by the rain; and in dry -weather they are filled by means of a pump arranged for that purpose. -The platform at the entrance is of water--that is to say, it is a broad -wooden trough two inches deep, full of water, through which we are -required to walk. We do so, and with far more satisfaction than some -things we have done here to-day. We enter the house alone; the others -waiting outside. All silent and dusky as an Egyptian tomb. The tubs of -powder, dimly seen in the uncertain light, are ranged along the walls, -like mummies--all giving the impression of a secret life within. But a -secret life, how different! "Ah! there's the rub." We retire with a -mental obeisance, and a respectful air--the influence remaining with us, -so that we bow slightly on rejoining our friends outside, who bow in -return, looking from us to the open door-way of the "house!" - -With thoughtful brows, and not in any very high state of hilarity, after -the duties of the day--not to speak of being wet through to the skin, -for the second time--we move through the fir groves on our way back. We -notice a strange appearance in many trees, some of which are curiously -distorted, others with their heads cut off; and, in some places, there -are large and upright gaps in a plantation. Mr. Ashbee, after -deliberating inwardly a little while, informs us that a very dreadful -accident happened here last year. "Was there an explosion?" we inquire. -He says there was. "And a serious one?"--"Yes."--"Any lives -lost?"--"Yes."--"Two or three?"--"More than that."--"Five or six?" He -says more than that. He gradually drops into the narrative, with a -subdued tone of voice. There was an explosion last year. Six different -houses blew up. It began with a "Separating House,"--a place for sizing, -or sorting, the different grains through sieves. Then the explosion went -to a "Granulating-House," one hundred yards off. How it was carried such -distances, except by a general combustion of the air, he can not -imagine. Thence, it went to a "Press House," where the powder lies in -hard cakes. Thence, it went in two ways--on one side to a "Composition -Mixing-House," and, on the other, to a "Glazing-House;" and thence to -another "Granulating-House." Each of these buildings were fully one -hundred yards from another; each was intercepted by plantations of fir -and forest trees as a protection; and the whole took place within forty -seconds. There was no tracing how it had occurred. - -This, then, accounts for the different gaps--some of them extending -fifty or sixty yards--in the plantations and groves? Mr. Ashbee nods a -grave assent. He adds, that one large tree was torn up by the roots, and -its trunk was found deposited at such a distance, that they never could -really ascertain where it came from. It was just found lying there. An -iron water-wheel, of thirty feet in circumference, belonging to one of -the mills, was blown to a distance of fifty yards through the air, -cutting through the heads of all the trees in its way, and finally -lodging between the upper boughs of a large tree, where it stuck fast, -like a boy's kite. The poor fellows who were killed--(our informant here -drops his voice to a whisper, and speaks in short detached fragments; -there is nobody near us, but he feels as a man should feel in speaking -of such things)--the poor fellows who were killed were horribly -mutilated--more than mutilated, some of them--their different members -distributed hither and thither, could not be buried with their proper -owners, to any certainty. One man escaped out of a house, before it blew -up, in time to run at least forty yards. He was seen running, when -suddenly he fell. But when he was picked up, he was found to be quite -dead. The concussion of the air had killed him. One man coming down the -river in a boat was mutilated. Some men who were missing, were never -found--blown all to nothing. The place where some of the "houses" had -stood, did not retain so much as a piece of timber, or a brick. All had -been swept away, leaving nothing but the torn-up ground, a little -rubbish, and a black hash of bits of stick, to show the place where they -had been erected. - -We turn our eyes once more toward the immense gaps in the fir groves, -gaps which here and there amount to wide intervals, in which all the -trees are reduced to about half their height, having been cut away near -the middle. Some trees, near at hand, we observe to have been flayed of -their bark all down one side; others have strips of bark hanging dry and -black. Several trees are strangely distorted, and the entire trunk of -one large fir has been literally twisted like a corkscrew, from top to -bottom, requiring an amount of force scarcely to be estimated by any -known means of mechanical power. Amid all this quietness, how dreadful a -visitation! It is visible on all sides, and fills the scene with a -solemn, melancholy weight. - -But we will linger here no longer. We take a parting glance around, at -the plantations of firs, some of them prematurely old, and shaking their -heads, while the air wafts by, as though conscious of their defeated -youth, and all its once-bright hopes. The dead leaves lie thick beneath, -in various sombre colors of decay, and through the thin bare woods we -see the gray light fading into the advancing evening. Here, where the -voice of man is never heard, we pause, to listen to the sound of -rustling boughs, and the sullen rush and murmur of water-wheels and -mill-streams; and, over all, the song of a thrush, even while uttering -blithe notes, gives a touching sadness to this isolated scene of human -labors--labors, the end of which, is a destruction of numbers of our -species, which may, or may not, be necessary to the progress of -civilization, and the liberty of mankind. - - - - -AN INSANE PHILOSOPHER. - - -A visitor to the Hanwell Insane Asylum, in England, will have his -attention directed to one of the inmates who is at once the "pet," the -peer, the philosopher, and the poet of that vast community. No one can -long enjoy the privilege of his company without perceiving that he has -received a first-rate classical education. His mind is remarkably -clear-visioned, acute, severe, logical, and accomplished. His manners -usually display the refinement, polish, and urbanity of a well-bred -gentleman, though at times, it is said, they are tinged with a degree of -aristocratic pride, austerity, and hauteur, especially when brought -into contact with the ignorant and vulgar. In conversation, though -impeded by a slight hesitation of utterance, he displays clearness and -breadth of intelligence in all his views, and pours forth freely from -the treasures of a well-stored memory abundance of information, -anecdote, and fact. His physiognomy and physical structure are well -adapted to enshrine a mind of such a calibre. In stature he is tall, -rather slender, but firmly knit. The muscular development of the frame -denotes considerable strength--a quality which he claims to possess in a -pre-eminent degree. He boasts, probably with considerable truth, of -having no equal, in this respect, in the asylum. His head, beautifully -formed, after a fine intellectual type, is partially bald--the few -surviving locks of hair that fringe its sides being nearly gray. The -keen, twinkling, gray eye; the prominent classic brow; the -boldly-chiseled aquiline nose; the thin cheeks, "sicklied o'er with the -pale cast of thought;" the sharp features, together with the small, -firmly-compressed mouth, plainly bespeak him a man of reflection, and -strong purpose. In age, he appears to have weathered about fifty stormy -winters. The term of his residence in this rendezvous of afflicted -strangers is somewhere about six years. His _real_ name, his early -history, his human kindred, his former social status--in fact, all the -antecedents of his life, previous to his admission to the asylum--are -utterly unknown. On all these matters he preserves the silence of a -sphinx. No remarks, so far as we know, have ever escaped his lips, -calculated to afford any certain clew for the elucidation of the mystery -that enshrouds him. Surmise and conjecture have of course been busy with -their guesses as to his probable extraction; and the organ of wonder has -been sorely taxed in an effort to account for the marvelous fact, that a -gentleman of such apparent distinction, it may be of noble birth and -fortune, should have been lost to his friends for a space of six years, -and no earnest inquiries been made to discover his fate. That he is of -aristocratic descent, appears to be the general impression among the -officers and inmates of the asylum--an impression justified by his -elegant manners, his superior attainments, his extensive acquaintance -with noble families, and many significant allusions found in his painted -chamber, upon the walls of which he has faithfully daguerreotyped the -images, the feelings, the recollections, and the cherished sentiments of -his inner man. The _fictitious_ name by which he is known at present is -that of Mr. Chiswick--a name commemorative of the _scene_ of that sad -event which has overshadowed the afternoon, and which threatens to -darken the evening, of his earthly existence. But the reader will be -anxious to learn under what strange conjunction of circumstances this -mysterious being--without father or mother, brothers or sisters, -kinsfolk or acquaintances, and without even a local habitation or a -name--obtained an introduction to this strange home. We will at once -state such facts as we have been able to collect. - -On one Sabbath-day, about six years ago, a congregation had gathered -together, as was their wont, for the celebration of divine worship, in -the small country church of Turnham Green, near Chiswick. The -officiating clergyman and the worshiping assembly had jointly gone -through the liturgical services without the occurrence of any unusual -event. As soon as the robed minister had ascended the sacred desk, and -commenced his discourse, however, the eyes of a portion of the audience -were attracted toward a gentleman occupying a somewhat conspicuous -position in the church, whose strange and restless movements, wild and -excited air, and occasional audible exclamations, indicated the presence -of either a fanatic or a lunatic. These symptoms continued to increase, -until, at length, as if irritated beyond endurance by some sentiment -that fell from the lips of the preacher, he gave way to a perfect -paroxysm of frenzy, under the influence of which he seized his hat, and -flung it at the head of the minister. Of course, the service was -suspended until the offender was expelled. It was soon discovered that -the unhappy author of this untoward disturbance was suffering under a -violent fit of mania. When borne from the church, no person could -recognize or identify him. He was a total stranger to all residing in -the neighborhood, so that no clew could be obtained that would enable -them to restore him to the custody and surveillance of his friends. -Under these circumstances, he was taken to the adjoining work-house at -Isleworth, where he was detained for some weeks under medical care, -during which period the most diligent inquiries were instituted with the -view of unraveling the mystery of the stranger's kinship. But without -avail. No one claimed him; and even when pressed himself to impart some -information on the subject, he either could not or would not divulge the -secret. Finding, at length, that all efforts to identify the great -Incognito were ineffectual, he was removed to Hanwell, the asylum of the -county to which he had thus suddenly become chargeable, and where he has -ever since remained. - -Mr. Chiswick is treated by the magistrates and officers with great -kindness and consideration. His employments are such as befit a -gentleman. No menial or laborious tasks are imposed upon him. He is -allowed, to a great extent, to consult his predilections, and these are -invariably of a tasteful and elegant description. His time is divided -chiefly between reading and painting, in which occupations he is -devotedly industrious. He is an early riser, and intersperses his more -sedentary pursuits with seasons of vigorous exercise. To this practice, -in conjunction with strictly temperate habits, he attributes his -excellent health and remarkable prowess. To a stranger, no signs of -mental aberration are discernible. His aspect is so calm and collected, -and his ideas are so lucidly expressed, that, if met with in any other -place besides an asylum, no one would suspect that he had ever been -smitten with a calamity so terrible. He would simply be regarded as -eccentric. So satisfied is he of his own perfect saneness, and of his -ability to secure self-maintenance by the productions of his own genius, -that confinement begins to be felt by him as intolerably irksome and -oppressive. The invisible fetters gall his sensitive soul, and render -him impatient of restraint. On our last visit but one, he declared that -he had abandoned all thoughts of doing any thing more to his painted -room; he aspired to higher things than that. He was striving to -cultivate his artistic talents, so that by their exercise he might -henceforth minister to his own necessities. Who his connections, and -what his antecedents were should never be known--they were things that -concerned no one; his aim was to qualify himself, by self-reliant labor, -to wrestle once more with the world, and to wring from it the pittance -of a humble subsistence. As soon as he felt himself competent to hazard -this step, he intended to demand his immediate release; "and, should it -then be refused," said he, with the solemn and impressive emphasis of a -man thoroughly in earnest, "they will, on the next day, find me a -_corpse_." To the superintendent in the tailoring department, he -likewise remarked, a short time since, when giving instructions for a -new garment: "This is the last favor I shall ever ask of you. I intend -shortly to quit the asylum; for if they do not discharge me of their own -accord, in answer to my request, _I will discharge myself_." - -On the occasion of our second visit to the asylum, we were received by -Mr. Chiswick with great courtesy, and were favored with a long -conversation on a variety of topics. Besides the exercise of his brush -and pencil, his genius manifests itself in other ways, some of them -being rather amusing and eccentric. Among these, is that of making -stockings, and other articles of apparel in a very original manner. His -mind, as we have remarked, is well replenished with anecdotes and -illustrations suitable to whatever topic may happen to be on hand. On -the present occasion, upon offering us a glass of wine, we declined his -hospitality, on the true plea that we had fasted since eight o'clock in -the morning, and it was then nearly five in the afternoon. Upon this, he -produced a piece of sweet bread, saying, "Take that first, and then the -wine will not hurt you. You remember the anecdote of the bride? Soon -after her marriage, her mother inquired,'How does your husband treat -you, my dear?' Oh, he loves me very much, for he gives me two glasses of -white wine every morning before I am up.' 'My dear child,' said the -mother, with an air of alarm, 'he means to kill you. However, do not -refuse the wine, but take a piece of cake to bed with you at night, and -when he is gone for the wine in the morning, do you eat the cake, then -the wine will not hurt you,' The bride obeyed the mother's advice, and -lived to a good old age." - -Having sat down by the fire in the ward with a number of the patients, -Mr. Chiswick took out his pocket-book to show us a letter which he had -received from some kind but unknown friend, who had visited the asylum, -and also that he might present to us a piece of poetry, which had just -been printed at the asylum press. In looking for these, he accidentally -dropped a greater part of the contents of his pocket-book on the floor; -and when one of the lunatics hastened to scramble for some of the -papers, Mr. Chiswick, quick as thought, pulled off the officious -patient's hat, and sent it flying to the other end of the ward, bidding -its owner to run after it. We offered to assist in picking up the -scattered papers, but he would not allow us to touch them. "You act," we -remarked, "on the principle of not allowing others to do for you any -thing that you can do yourself." "Exactly so," said he, "and I will tell -you a good anecdote about that. There was once a bishop of Gibraltar, -who hired a valet; but for some time this valet had nothing to do: the -bishop cleaned his own boots, and performed many other menial tasks, -which the servant supposed that he had been engaged to do. At length he -said--'Your lordship, I should be glad to be informed what it is -expected that I should do. You clean your own boots, brush your own -clothes, and do a multitude of other things that I supposed would fall -to my lot.' 'Well,' said the bishop, 'I have been accustomed to do this, -and I can do it very well; therefore, why should you do it? I act upon -the principle of never allowing others to do what I can do myself. -Therefore, do you go and study, and I will go on as usual. I have -already had opportunities to get knowledge, and you have not; and I -think that will be to do to you as I should wish you to do to me.'" - - - - -BLEAK HOUSE. - -BY CHARLES DICKENS. - - -CHAPTER I.--IN CHANCERY. - -London. Michaelmas Term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in -Lincoln's Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the -streets, as if the water had but newly retired from the face of the -earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet -long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn hill. Smoke -lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with -flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snow-flakes--gone into -mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun. Dogs, -undistinguishable in mire. Horses scarcely better; splashed to their -very blinkers. Foot passengers, jostling one another's umbrellas, in a -general infection of ill-temper, and losing their foot-hold at -street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have -been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if the day ever broke), -adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those -points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound -interest. - -Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and -meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of -shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog -on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the -cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in -the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and -small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich -pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem -and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his -close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering -little 'prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over -the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if -they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds. - -Gas looming through the fog in divers places in the streets, much as the -sun may, from the spongy fields, be seen to loom by husbandman and -plow-boy. Most of the shops lighted two hours before their time--as the -gas seems to know, for it has a haggard and unwilling look. - -The raw afternoon is rawest, and the dense fog is densest, and the muddy -streets are muddiest, near that leaden-headed old obstruction, -appropriate ornament for the threshold of a leaden-headed old -corporation: Temple Bar. And hard by Temple Bar, in Lincoln's Inn Hall, -at the very heart of the fog, sits the Lord High Chancellor in his High -Court of Chancery. - -Never can there come fog too thick, never can there come mud and mire -too deep, to assort with the groping and floundering condition which -this High Court of Chancery, most pestilent of hoary sinners, holds, -this day, in the sight of heaven and earth. - -On such an afternoon, if ever, the Lord High Chancellor ought to be -sitting here--as here he is--with a foggy glory round his head, softly -fenced in with crimson cloth and curtains, addressed by a large advocate -with great whiskers, a little voice, and an interminable brief, and -outwardly directing his contemplation to the lantern in the roof, where -he can see nothing but fog. On such an afternoon, some score of members -of the High Court of Chancery bar ought to be--as here they are--mistily -engaged in one of the ten thousand stages of an endless cause, tripping -one another up on slippery precedents, groping knee-deep in -technicalities, running their goat-hair and horse-hair warded heads -against walls of words, and making a pretense of equity with serious -faces, as players might. On such an afternoon, the various solicitors in -the cause, some two or three of whom have inherited it from their -fathers, who made a fortune by it, ought to be--as are they not?--ranged -in a line, in a long matted well (but you might look in vain for Truth -at the bottom of it), between the registrar's red table and the silk -gowns, with bills, cross-bills, answers, rejoinders, injunctions, -affidavits, issues, references to masters, masters' reports, mountains -of costly nonsense, piled before them. Well may the court be dim, with -wasting candles here and there; well may the fog hang heavy in it, as if -it would never get out; well may the stained glass windows lose their -color, and admit no light of day into the place; well may the -uninitiated from the streets, who peep in through the glass panes in -the door, be deterred from entrance by its owlish aspect, and by the -drawl languidly echoing to the roof from the padded dais where the Lord -High Chancellor looks into the lantern that has no light in it, and -where the attendant wigs are all stuck in a fog-bank! This is the Court -of Chancery; which has its decaying houses and its blighted lands in -every shire; which has its worn-out lunatic in every mad-house, and its -dead in every church-yard; which has its ruined suitor, with his -slipshod heels and threadbare dress, borrowing and begging through the -round of every man's acquaintance; which gives to moneyed might the -means abundantly of wearying out the right; which so exhausts finances, -patience, courage, hope; so overthrows the brain and breaks the heart; -that there is not an honorable man among its practitioners who would not -give--who does not often give--the warning, "Suffer any wrong that can -be done you, rather than come here!" - -Who happen to be in the Lord Chancellor's court this murky afternoon -besides the Lord Chancellor, the counsel in the cause, two or three -counsel who are never in any cause, and the well of solicitors before -mentioned? There is the registrar below the Judge, in wig and gown; and -there are two or three maces, or petty-bags, or privy-purses, or -whatever they may be, in legal court suits. These are all yawning; for -no crumb of amusement ever falls from JARNDYCE AND JARNDYCE (the cause -in hand) which was squeezed dry years upon years ago. The short-hand -writers, the reporters of the court, and the reporters of the -newspapers, invariably decamp with the rest of the regulars when -Jarndyce and Jarndyce comes on. Their places are a blank. Standing on a -seat at the side of the hall, the better to peer into the curtained -sanctuary, is a little mad old woman in a squeezed bonnet, who is always -in court, from its sitting to its rising, and always expecting some -incomprehensible judgment to be given in her favor. Some say she really -is, or was, a party to a suit; but no one knows for certain, because no -one cares. She carries some small litter in a reticule which she calls -her documents; principally consisting of paper matches and dry lavender. -A sallow prisoner has come up, in custody, for the half-dozenth time, to -make a personal application "to purge himself of his contempt;" which, -being a solitary surviving executor who has fallen into a state of -conglomeration about accounts of which it is not pretended that he had -ever any knowledge, he is not at all likely ever to do. In the meantime, -his prospects in life are ended. Another ruined suitor, who periodically -appears from Shropshire, and breaks out into efforts to address the -Chancellor at the close of the day's business, and who can by no means -be made to understand that the Chancellor is legally ignorant of his -existence after making it desolate for a quarter of a century, plants -himself in a good place and keeps an eye on the Judge, ready to call out -"My lord!" in a voice of sonorous complaint, on the instant of his -rising. A few lawyers' clerks and others who know this suitor by sight, -linger, on the chance of his furnishing some fun, and enlivening the -dismal weather a little. - -Jarndyce and Jarndyce drones on. This scare-crow of a suit has, in -course of time, become so complicated, that no man alive knows what it -means. The parties to it understand it least; but it has been observed -that no two Chancery lawyers can talk about it for five minutes, without -coming to a total disagreement as to all the premises. Innumerable -children have been born into the cause; innumerable young people have -married into it; innumerable old people have died out of it. Scores of -persons have deliriously found themselves made parties in Jarndyce and -Jarndyce, without knowing how or why; whole families have inherited -legendary hatreds with the suit. The little plaintiff or defendant, who -was promised a new rocking-horse when Jarndyce and Jarndyce should be -settled, has grown up, possessed himself of a real horse, and trotted -away into the other world. Fair wards of court have faded into mothers -and grandmothers; a long procession of Chancellors has come in and gone -out; the legion of bills in the suit have been transformed into mere -bills of mortality; there are not three Jarndyces left upon the earth -perhaps, since old Tom Jarndyce in despair blew his brains out at a -coffee-house in Chancery-lane; but Jarndyce and Jarndyce still drags its -dreary length before the Court, perennially hopeless. - -Jarndyce and Jarndyce has passed into a joke. That is the only good that -has ever come of it. It has been death to many, but it is a joke in the -profession. Every master in Chancery has had a reference out of it. -Every Chancellor was "in it," for somebody or other, when he was counsel -at the bar. Good things have been said about it by blue-nosed, -bulbous-shoed old benchers, in select port-wine committee after dinner -in hall. Articled clerks have been in the habit of fleshing their -legal wit upon it. The last Lord Chancellor handled it neatly, when, -correcting Mr. Blowers the eminent silk gown who said that such a thing -might happen when the sky rained potatoes, he observed, "or when we get -through Jarndyce and Jarndyce, Mr. Blowers;"--a pleasantry that -particularly tickled the maces, bags, and purses. - -How many people out of the suit, Jarndyce and Jarndyce has stretched -forth its unwholesome hand to spoil and corrupt, would be a very wide -question. From the master, upon whose impaling files reams of dusty -warrants in Jarndyce and Jarndyce have grimly writhed into many shapes; -down to the copying clerk in the Six Clerks' Office, who has copied his -tens of thousands of Chancery-folio-pages under that eternal heading; no -man's nature has been made the better by it. In trickery, evasion, -procrastination, spoliation, botheration, under false pretenses of all -sorts, there are influences that can never come to good. The very -solicitors' boys who have kept the wretched suitors at bay, by -protesting time out of mind that Mr. Chizzle, Mizzle, or otherwise, was -particularly engaged and had appointments until dinner, may have got an -extra moral twist and shuffle into themselves out of Jarndyce and -Jarndyce. The receiver in the cause has acquired a goodly sum of money -by it, but has acquired too a distrust of his own mother, and a contempt -for his own kind. Chizzle, Mizzle, and otherwise, have lapsed into a -habit of vaguely promising themselves that they will look into that -outstanding little matter, and see what can be done for Drizzle--who was -not well used--when Jarndyce and Jarndyce shall be got out of the -office. Shirking and sharking, in all their many varieties, have been -sown broadcast by the ill-fated cause; and even those who have -contemplated its history from the outermost circle of such evil, have -been insensibly tempted into a loose way of letting bad things alone to -take their own bad course, and a loose belief that if the world go -wrong, it was, in some off-hand manner, never meant to go right. - -Thus, in the midst of the mud and at the heart of the fog, sits the Lord -High Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery. - -"Mr. Tangle," says the Lord High Chancellor, latterly something restless -under the eloquence of that learned gentleman. - -"Mlud," says Mr. Tangle. Mr. Tangle knows more of Jarndyce and Jarndyce -than any body. He is famous for it--supposed never to have read any -thing else since he left school. - -"Have you nearly concluded your argument?" - -"Mlud, no--variety of points--feel it my duty tsubmit--ludship," is the -reply that slides out of Mr. Tangle. - -"Several members of the bar are still to be heard, I believe?" says the -Chancellor, with a slight smile. - -Eighteen of Mr. Tangle's learned friends, each armed with a little -summary of eighteen hundred sheets, bob up like eighteen hammers in a -piano-forte, make eighteen bows, and drop into their eighteen places of -obscurity. - -"We will proceed with the hearing on Wednesday fortnight," says the -Chancellor. For, the question at issue is only a question of costs, a -mere bud on the forest tree of the parent suit, and really will come to -a settlement one of these days. - -The Chancellor rises; the bar rises; the prisoner is brought forward in -a hurry; the man from Shropshire cries, "My lord!" Maces, bags, and -purses, indignantly proclaim silence, and frown at the man from -Shropshire. - -"In reference," proceeds the Chancellor, "still on Jarndyce and Jarndyce, -to the young girl----." - -"Begludship's pardon--boy," says Mr. Tangle, prematurely. - -"In reference," proceeds the Chancellor, with extra distinctness, "to -the young girl and boy, the two young people." - -(Mr. Tangle crushed.) - -"Whom I directed to be in attendance to-day, and who are now in my -private room, I will see them and satisfy myself as to the expediency of -making the order for their residing with their uncle." - -Mr. Tangle on his legs again. - -"Begludship's pardon--dead." - -"With their," Chancellor looking through his double eye-glass at the -papers on his desk, "grandfather." - -"Begludship's pardon--victim of rash action--brains." - -Suddenly a very little counsel, with a terrific bass voice, arises, -fully inflated, in the back settlements of the fog, and says, "Will your -lordship allow me? I appear for him. He is a cousin, several times -removed. I am not at the moment prepared to inform the Court in what -exact remove he is a cousin; but he _is_ a cousin." - -Leaving this address (delivered like a sepulchral message) ringing in -the rafters of the roof, the very little counsel drops, and the fog -knows him no more. Every body looks for him. Nobody can see him. - -"I will speak with both the young people," says the Chancellor anew, -"and satisfy myself on the subject of their residing with their cousin. -I will mention the matter to-morrow morning when I take my seat." - -The Chancellor is about to bow to the bar, when the prisoner is -presented. Nothing can possibly come of the prisoner's conglomeration, -but his being sent back to prison; which is soon done. The man from -Shropshire ventures another remonstrative "My lord!" but the Chancellor, -being aware of him, has dexterously vanished. Every body else quickly -vanishes too. A battery of blue bags is loaded with heavy charges of -papers and carried off by clerks; the little mad old woman marches off -with her documents; the empty court is locked up. If all the injustice -it has committed, and all the misery it has caused, could only be locked -up with it, and the whole burnt away in a great funeral pyre--why, so -much the better for other parties than the parties in Jarndyce and -Jarndyce! - - -CHAPTER II.--IN FASHION. - -It is but a glimpse of the world of fashion that we want on this same -miry afternoon. It is not so unlike the Court of Chancery, but that we -may pass from the one scene to the other, as the crow flies. Both the -world of fashion and the Court of Chancery are things of precedent and -usage; over-sleeping Rip Van Winkles, who have played at strange games -through a deal of thundery weather; sleeping beauties, whom the Knight -will wake one day, when all the stopped spits in the kitchen shall begin -to turn prodigiously. - -It is not a large world. Relatively even to this world of ours, which -has its limits too (as your Highness shall find when you have made the -tour of it, and are come to the brink of the void beyond), it is a very -little speck. There is much good in it; there are many good and true -people in it; it has its appointed place. But the evil of it is, that it -is a world wrapped up in too much jeweler's cotton and fine wool, and -can not hear the rushing of the larger worlds, and can not see them as -they circle round the sun. It is a deadened world, and its growth is -sometimes unhealthy for want of air. - -My Lady Dedlock has returned to her house in town for a few days -previous to her departure for Paris, where her ladyship intends to stay -some weeks; after which her movements are uncertain. The fashionable -intelligence says so, for the comfort of the Parisians, and it knows all -fashionable things. To know things otherwise, were to be unfashionable. -My Lady Dedlock has been down at what she calls, in familiar -conversation, her "place" in Lincolnshire. The waters are out in -Lincolnshire. An arch of the bridge in the park has been sapped and -sopped away. The adjacent low-lying ground, for half a mile in breadth, -is a stagnant river, with melancholy trees for islands in it, and a -surface punctured all over, all day long, with falling rain. My Lady -Dedlock's "place" has been extremely dreary. The weather, for many a day -and night, has been so wet that the trees seem wet through, and the soft -loppings and prunings of the woodman's ax can make no crash or crackle -as they fall. The deer, looking soaked, leave quagmires, where they -pass. The shot of a rifle loses its sharpness in the moist air, and its -smoke moves in a tardy little cloud toward the green rise, -coppice-topped, that makes a back-ground for the falling rain. The view -from my Lady Dedlock's own windows is alternately a lead-colored view, -and a view in Indian ink. The vases on the stone terrace in the -foreground catch the rain all day; and the heavy drops fall, drip, drip, -drip, upon the broad flagged pavement, called, from old time, the -Ghost's Walk, all night. On Sundays, the little church in the park is -mouldy; the oaken pulpit breaks out into a cold sweat; and there is a -general smell and taste as of the ancient Dedlocks in their graves. My -Lady Dedlock (who is child-less), looking out in the early twilight from -her boudoir at a keeper's lodge, and seeing the light of a fire upon the -latticed panes, and smoke rising from the chimney, and a child, chased -by a woman, running out into the rain to meet the shining figure of a -wrapped-up man coming through the gate, has been put quite out of -temper. My Lady Dedlock says she has been "bored to death." - -Therefore my Lady Dedlock has come away from the place in Lincolnshire, -and has left it to the rain, and the crows, and the rabbits, and the -deer, and the partridges, and pheasants. The pictures of the Dedlocks -past and gone seemed to vanish into the damp walls in mere lowness of -spirits, as the housekeeper has passed along the old rooms, shutting up -the shutters. And when they will next come forth again, the fashionable -intelligence--which, like the fiend, is omniscient of the past and -present, but not the future--can not yet undertake to say. - -Sir Leicester Dedlock is only a baronet, but there is no mightier -baronet than he. His family is as old as the hills, and infinitely more -respectable. He has a general opinion that the world might get on -without hills, but would be done up without Dedlocks. He would on the -whole admit Nature to be a good idea (a little low, perhaps, when not -inclosed with a park-fence), but an idea dependent for its execution on -your great county families. He is a gentleman of strict conscience, -disdainful of all littleness and meanness, and ready, on the shortest -notice, to die any death you may please to mention rather than give -occasion for the least impeachment of his integrity. He is an honorable, -obstinate, truthful, high-spirited, intensely prejudiced, perfectly -unreasonable man. - -Sir Leicester is twenty years, full measure, older than my Lady. He will -never see sixty-five again, nor perhaps sixty-six, nor yet sixty-seven. -He has a twist of the gout now and then, and walks a little stiffly. He -is of a worthy presence, with his light gray hair and whiskers, his fine -shirt-frill, his pure white waistcoat, and his blue coat with bright -buttons always buttoned. He is ceremonious, stately, most polite on -every occasion to my Lady, and holds her personal attractions in the -highest estimation. His gallantry to my Lady, which has never changed -since he courted her, is the one little touch of romantic fancy in him. - -Indeed, he married her for love. A whisper still goes about, that she -had not even family; howbeit, Sir Leicester had so much family that -perhaps he had enough, and could dispense with any more. But she had -beauty, pride, ambition, insolent resolve, and sense enough to portion -out a legion of fine ladies. Wealth and station, added to these, soon -floated her upward; and for years, now, my Lady Dedlock has been at the -centre of the fashionable intelligence, and at the top of the -fashionable tree. - -How Alexander wept, when he had no more worlds to conquer, every body -knows--or has some reason to know by this time, the matter having been -rather frequently mentioned. My Lady Dedlock, having conquered _her_ -world, fell, not into the melting but rather into the freezing mood. An -exhausted composure, a worn-out placidity, an equanimity of fatigue, not -to be ruffled by interest or satisfaction, are the trophies of her -victory. She is perfectly well bred. If she could be translated to -Heaven to-morrow, she might be expected to ascend without any rapture. - -She has beauty still, and, if it be not in its heyday, it is not yet in -its autumn. She has a fine face--originally of a character that would be -rather called very pretty than handsome, but improved into classicality -by the acquired expression of her fashionable state. Her figure is -elegant, and has the effect of being tall. Not that she is so, but that -"the most is made," as the Honorable Bob Staples has frequently asserted -upon oath, "of all her points." The same authority observes, that she is -perfectly got up and remarks, in commendation of her hair especially, -that she is the best-groomed woman in the whole stud. - -With all her perfections on her head, my Lady Dedlock has come up from -her place in Lincolnshire (hotly pursued by the fashionable -intelligence), to pass a few days at her house in town previous to her -departure for Paris, where her ladyship intends to stay some weeks, -after which her movements are uncertain. And at her house in town, upon -this muddy, murky afternoon, presents himself an old-fashioned old -gentleman, attorney-at-law, and eke solicitor of the High Court of -Chancery, who has the honor of acting as legal adviser of the Dedlocks, -and has as many cast-iron boxes in his office with that name outside, as -if the present baronet were the coin of the conjuror's trick, and were -constantly being juggled through the whole set. Across the hall, and up -the stairs, and along the passages, and through the rooms, which are -very brilliant in the season and very dismal out of it--Fairy-land to -visit, but a desert to live in--the old gentleman is conducted, by a -Mercury in powder, to my Lady's presence. - -The old gentleman is rusty to look at, but is reputed to have made good -thrift out of aristocratic marriage settlements and aristocratic wills, -and to be very rich. He is surrounded by a mysterious halo of family -confidences; of which he is known to be the silent depository. There are -noble Mausoleums rooted for centuries in retired glades of parks, among -the growing timber and the fern, which perhaps hold fewer noble secrets -than walk abroad among men, shut up in the breast of Mr. Tulkinghorn. He -is of what is called the old school--a phrase generally meaning any -school that seems never to have been young--and wears knee breeches tied -with ribbons, and gaiters or stockings. One peculiarity of his black -clothes, and of his black stockings, be they silk or worsted, is, that -they never shine. Mute, close, irresponsive to any glancing light, his -dress is like himself. He never converses, when not professionally -consulted. He is found sometimes, speechless but quite at home, at -corners of dinner-tables in great country houses, and near doors of -drawing-rooms, concerning which the fashionable intelligence is -eloquent: where every body knows him, and where half the Peerage stops -to say "How do you do, Mr. Tulkinghorn?" He receives these salutations -with gravity, and buries them along with the rest of his knowledge. - -Sir Leicester Dedlock is with my Lady, and is happy to see Mr. -Tulkinghorn. There is an air of prescription about him which is always -agreeable to Sir Leicester; he receives it as a kind of tribute. He -likes Mr. Tulkinghorn's dress; there is a kind of tribute in that too. -It is eminently respectable, and likewise, in a general way, -retainer-like. It expresses, as it were, the steward of the legal -mysteries, the butler of the legal cellar of the Dedlocks. - -Has Mr. Tulkinghorn any idea of this himself? It may be so, or it may -not; but there is this remarkable circumstance to be noted in every -thing associated with my Lady Dedlock as one of a class--as one of the -leaders and representatives of her little world. She supposes herself to -be an inscrutable Being, quite out of the reach and ken of ordinary -mortals--seeing herself in her glass, where indeed she looks so. Yet, -every dim little star revolving about her, from her maid to the manager -of the Italian Opera, knows her weaknesses, prejudices, follies, -haughtinesses, and caprices; and lives upon as accurate a calculation -and as nice a measure of her moral nature, as her dress-maker takes of -her physical proportions. Is a new dress, a new custom, a new singer, a -new dancer, a new form of jewelry, a new dwarf or giant, a new chapel, a -new any thing, to be set up? There are deferential people, in a dozen -callings, whom my Lady Dedlock suspects of nothing but prostration -before her, who can tell you how to manage her as if she were a baby; -who do nothing but nurse her all their lives; who, humbly affecting to -follow with profound subservience, lead her and her whole troop after -them; who, in hooking one, hook all and bear them off, as Lemuel -Gulliver bore away the stately fleet of the majestic Lilliput. "If you -want to address our people, sir," say Blaze and Sparkle the -jewelers--meaning by our people, Lady Dedlock and the rest--"you must -remember that you are not dealing with the general public; you must hit -our people in their weakest place, and their weakest place is such a -place." "To make this article go down, gentlemen," say Sheen and Gloss -the mercers, to their friends the manufacturers, "you must come to us, -because we know where to have the fashionable people, and we can make it -fashionable." "If you want to get this print upon the tables of my high -connection, sir," says Mr. Sladdery the librarian, "or if you want to -get this dwarf or giant into the houses of my high connection, sir, or -if you want to secure to this entertainment the patronage of my high -connection, sir, you must leave it, if you please, to me; for I have -been accustomed to study the leaders of my high connection, sir; and I -may tell you, without vanity, that I can turn them round my finger"--in -which Mr. Sladdery, who is an honest man, does not exaggerate at all. - -"Therefore, while Mr. Tulkinghorn may not know what was passing in the -Dedlock mind at present, it is very possible that he may. - -"My Lady's cause has been again before the Chancellor, has it, Mr. -Tulkinghorn?" says Sir Leicester, giving him his hand. - -"Yes. It has been on again to-day," Mr. Tulkinghorn replies; making one -of his quiet bows to my Lady, who is on a sofa near the fire, shading -her face with a hand-screen. - -"It would be useless to ask," says my Lady, with the dreariness of the -place in Lincolnshire still upon her, "whether any thing his been done." - -"Nothing that _you_ would call any thing has been done to-day," replies -Mr. Tulkinghorn. - -"Nor ever will be," says my Lady. - -Sir Leicester has no objection to an interminable Chancery suit. It is a -slow, expensive, British, constitutional kind of thing. To be sure, he -has not a vital interest in the suit in question, her part in which was -the only property my Lady brought him; and he has a shadowy impression -that for his name--the name of Dedlock--to be in a cause, and not in the -title of that cause, is a most ridiculous accident. But he regards the -Court of Chancery, even if it should involve an occasional delay of -justice and a trifling amount of confusion, as a something, devised in -conjunction with a variety of other somethings, by the perfection of -human wisdom, for the eternal settlement (humanly speaking) of every -thing. And he is, upon the whole, of a fixed opinion, that to give the -sanction of his countenance to any complaints respecting it, would be to -encourage some person of the lower orders to rise up somewhere--like Wat -Tyler. - -"As a few fresh affidavits have been put upon the file," says Mr. -Tulkinghorn, "and as they are short, and as I proceed upon the -troublesome principle of begging leave to possess my clients with any -new proceedings in a cause;" cautious man, Mr. Tulkinghorn, taking no -more responsibility than necessary; "and further, as I see you are going -to Paris, I have brought them in my pocket." - -(Sir Leicester was going to Paris too, by-the-by, but the delight of the -fashionable intelligence was in his Lady.) - -Mr. Tulkinghorn takes out his papers, asks permission to place them on a -golden talisman of a table at my Lady's elbow, puts on his spectacles, -and begins to read by the light of a shaded lamp. - -"'In Chancery. Between John Jarndyce--'" - -My Lady interrupts him, requesting him to miss as many of the formal -horrors as he can. - -Mr. Tulkinghorn glances over his spectacles, and begins again lower -down. My Lady carelessly and scornfully abstracts her attention. Sir -Leicester in a great chair looks at the fire, and appears to have a -stately liking for the legal repetitions and prolixities, as ranging -among the national bulwarks. It happens that the fire is hot, where my -Lady sits; and that the hand-screen is more beautiful than useful, being -priceless, but small. My Lady, changing her position, sees the papers on -the table--looks at them nearer--looks at them nearer still--asks -impulsively: - -"Who copied that?" - -Mr. Tulkinghorn stops short, surprised at my Lady's animation and her -unusual tone. - -"Is it what you people call law hand?" she asks, looking full at him in -her careless way again, and toying with her screen. - -"Not quite. Probably"--Mr. Tulkinghorn examines it as he speaks--"the -legal character it has, was acquired after the original hand was formed. -Why do you ask?" - -"Any thing to vary this detestable monotony. O, go on, do!" - -Mr. Tulkinghorn reads again. The heat is greater; my Lady screens her -face. Sir Leicester dozes, starts up suddenly, and cries, "Eh? what do -you say?" - -"I say I am afraid," says Mr. Tulkinghorn, who has risen hastily, "that -Lady Dedlock is ill." - -"Faint," my Lady murmurs, with white lips, "only that; but it is like -the faintness of death. Don't speak to me. Ring, and take me to my -room!" - -Mr. Tulkinghorn retires into another chamber; bells ring, feet shuffle -and patter, silence ensues. Mercury at last begs Mr. Tulkinghorn to -return. - -"Better now," quoth Sir Leicester, motioning the lawyer to sit down and -read to him alone. "I have been quite alarmed. I never knew my lady -swoon before. But the weather is extremely trying--and she really has -been bored to death down at our place in Lincolnshire." - - -CHAPTER III.--A PROGRESS. - -I have a great deal of difficulty in beginning to write my portion of -these pages, for I know I am not clever. I always knew that. I can -remember, when I was a very little girl indeed, I used to say to my -doll, when we were alone together, "Now, Dolly, I am not clever, you -know very well, and you must be patient with me, like a dear!" And so -she used to sit propped up in a great arm-chair, with her beautiful -complexion and rosy lips, staring at me--or not so much at me, I think, -as at nothing--while I busily stitched away, and told her every one of -my secrets. - -My dear old doll! I was such a shy little thing that I seldom dared to -open my lips, and never dared to open my heart, to any body else. It -almost makes me cry to think what a relief it used to be to me, when I -came home from school of a day, to run up stairs to my room, and say, "O -you dear faithful Dolly, I knew you would be expecting me!" and then to -sit down on the floor, leaning on the elbow of her great chair, and tell -her all I had noticed since we parted. I had always rather a noticing -way--not a quick way, O no!--a silent way of noticing what passed before -me, and thinking I should like to understand it better. I have not by -any means a quick understanding. When I love a person very tenderly -indeed, it seems to brighten. But even that may be my vanity. - -I was brought up, from my earliest remembrance--like some of the -princesses in the fairy stories, only I was not charming--by my -godmother. At least I only knew her as such. She was a good, good woman! -She went to church three times every Sunday, and to morning prayers on -Wednesdays and Fridays, and to lectures whenever there were lectures; -and never missed. She was handsome; and if she had ever smiled, would -have been (I used to think) like an angel--but she never smiled. She was -always grave, and strict. She was so very good herself, I thought, that -the badness of other people made her frown all her life. I felt so -different from her, even making every allowance for the differences -between a child and a woman; I felt so poor, so trifling, and so far -off; that I never could be unrestrained with her--no, could never even -love her as I wished. It made me very sorry to consider how good she -was, and how unworthy of her I was; and I used ardently to hope that I -might have a better heart; and I talked it over very often with the -dear old doll; but I never loved my godmother as I ought to have loved -her, and as I felt I must have loved her if I had been a better girl. - -This made me, I dare say, more timid and retiring than I naturally was, -and cast me upon Dolly as the only friend with whom I felt at ease. But -something happened when I was still quite a little thing, that helped it -very much. - -I had never heard my mamma spoken of. I had never heard of my papa -either, but I felt more interested about my mamma. I had never worn a -black frock, that I could recollect. I had never been shown my mamma's -grave. I had never been told where it was. Yet I had never been taught -to pray for any relation but my godmother. I had more than once -approached this subject of my thoughts with Mrs. Rachael, our only -servant, who took my light away when I was in bed (another very good -woman, but austere to me), and she had only said, "Esther, good-night!" -and gone away and left me. - -Although there were seven girls at the neighboring school where I was a -day boarder, and although they called me little Esther Summerson, I knew -none of them at home. All of them were older than I, to be sure (I was -the youngest there by a good deal), but there seemed to be some other -separation between us besides that, and besides their being far more -clever than I was, and knowing much more than I did. One of them, in the -first week of my going to the school (I remember it very well), invited -me home to a little party, to my great joy. But my godmother wrote a -stiff letter declining for me, and I never went. I never went out at -all. - -It was my birthday. There were holidays at school on other -birthdays--none on mine. There were rejoicings at home on other -birthdays, as I knew from what I heard the girls relate to one -another--there were none on mine. My birthday was the most melancholy -day at home, in the whole year. - -I have mentioned, that, unless my vanity should deceive me (as I know it -may, for I may be very vain, without suspecting it--though indeed I -don't), my comprehension is quickened when my affection is. My -disposition is very affectionate; and perhaps I might still feel such a -wound, if such a wound could be received more than once, with the -quickness of that birthday. - -Dinner was over, and my godmother and I were sitting at the table before -the fire. The clock ticked, the fire clicked; not another sound had been -heard in the room, or in the house, for I don't know how long. I -happened to look timidly up from my stitching, across the table, at my -godmother, and I saw in her face, looking gloomily at me, "It would have -been far better, little Esther, had you had had no birthday; that you -had never been born!" - -I broke out sobbing and crying, and I said, "O, dear godmother, tell me, -pray do tell me, did mamma die on my birthday?" - -"No," she returned. "Ask me no more, child!" - -"O, do pray tell me something of her. Do now, at last, dear godmother, -if you please! What did I do to her? How did I lose her? Why am I so -different from other children, and why is it my fault, dear godmother? -No, no, no, don't go away. O, speak to me!" - -I was in a kind of fright beyond my grief; and I had caught hold of her -dress, and was kneeling to her. She had been saying all the while, "Let -me go!" But now she stood still. - -Her darkened face had such power over me, that it stopped me in the -midst of my vehemence, I put up my trembling little hand to clasp hers, -or to beg her pardon with what earnestness I might, but withdrew it as -she looked at me, and laid it on my fluttering heart. She raised me, sat -in her chair, and standing me before her, said, slowly, in a cold, low -voice--I see her knitted brow, and pointed finger: - -"Your mother, Esther, is your disgrace, and you were hers. The time will -come--and soon enough--when you will understand this better, and will -feel it too, as no one save a woman can. I have forgiven her;" but her -face did not relent; "the wrong she did to me, and I say no more of it, -though it was greater than you will ever know--than any one will ever -know, but I, the sufferer. For yourself, unfortunate girl, orphaned and -degraded from the first of these evil anniversaries, pray daily that the -sins of others be not visited upon your head, according to what is -written. Forget your mother, and leave all other people to forget her -who will do her unhappy child that greatest kindness. Now, go!" - -She checked me, however, as I was about to depart from her--so frozen as -I was!--and added this: - -"Submission, self-denial, diligent work, are the preparations for a life -begun with such a shadow on it. You are different from other children, -Esther, because you were not born, like them, in common sinfulness and -wrath. You are set apart." - -I went up to my room, and crept to bed, and laid my doll's cheek against -mine wet with tears; and holding that solitary friend upon my bosom, -cried myself to sleep. Imperfect as my understanding of my sorrow was, I -knew that I had brought no joy, at anytime, to anybody's heart, and that -I was to no one upon earth what Dolly was to me. - -Dear, dear, to think how much time we passed alone together afterward, -and how often I repeated to the doll the story of my birthday, and -confided to her that I would try, as hard as ever I could, to repair the -fault I had been born with (of which I confusedly felt guilty and yet -innocent), and would strive as I grew up to be industrious, contented, -and kind-hearted, and to do some good to some one, and win some love to -myself if I could. I hope it is not self-indulgent to shed these tears -as I think of it. I am very thankful, I am very cheerful, but I can not -quite help their coming to my eyes. - -There! I have wiped them away now, and can go on again properly. - -I felt the distance between my godmother and myself so much more after -the birthday, and felt so sensible of filling a place in her house which -ought to have been empty, that I found her more difficult of approach, -though I was fervently grateful to her in my heart, than ever. I felt in -the same way toward my school companions; I felt in the same way toward -Mrs. Rachael, who was a widow; and O toward her daughter, of whom she -was proud, who came to see her once a fortnight! I was very retired and -quiet, and tried to be very diligent. - -One sunny afternoon, when I had come home from school with my books and -portfolio, watching my long shadow at my side, and as I was gliding up -stairs to my room as usual, my godmother looked out of the parlor door, -and called me back. Sitting with her, I found--which was very unusual -indeed--a stranger. A portly, important-looking gentleman, dressed all -in black, with a white cravat, large gold watch seals, a pair of gold -eye-glasses, and a large seal-ring upon his little finger. - -"This," said my godmother in an under tone, "is the child." Then she -said, in her naturally stern way of speaking, "This is Esther, sir." - -The gentleman put up his eye-glasses to look at me, and said, "Come -here, my dear!" He shook hands with me, and asked me to take off my -bonnet--looking at me all the while. When I had complied, he said, "Ah!" -and afterward "Yes!" And then, taking off his eye-glasses and folding -them in a red case, and leaning back in his arm-chair, turning the case -about in his two hands he gave my godmother a nod. Upon that, my -godmother said, "You may go up-stairs, Esther!" and I made him my -courtesy and left him. - -It must have been two years afterward, and I was almost fourteen, when -one dreadful night my godmother and I sat at the fireside. I was reading -aloud, and she was listening. I had come down at nine o'clock, as I -always did, to read the Bible to her; and was reading, from St. John, -how our Saviour stooped down, writing with his finger in the dust, when -they brought the sinful woman to him. - -"So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself and said unto -them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at -her!'" - -I was stopped by my godmother's rising, putting her hand to her head, -and crying out, in an awful voice, from quite another part of the book: - -"'Watch ye therefore! lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And -what I say unto you, I say unto all, Watch!'" - -In an instant, while she stood before me repeating these words, she fell -down on the floor. I had no need to cry out; her voice had sounded -through the house, and been heard in the street. - -She was laid upon her bed. For more than a week she lay there, little -altered outwardly; with her old handsome, resolute frown that I so well -knew, carved upon her face. Many and many a time, in the day and in the -night, with my head upon the pillow by her that my whispers might be -plainer to her, I kissed her, thanked her, prayed for her, asked her for -her blessing and forgiveness, entreated her to give me the least sign -that she knew or heard me. No, no, no. Her face was immovable. To the -very last, and even afterward, her frown remained unsoftened. - -On the day after my poor good godmother was buried, the gentleman in -black with the white neckcloth re-appeared. I was sent for by Mrs. -Rachael, and found him in the same place, as if he had never gone away. - -"My name is Kenge," he said; "you may remember it, my child; Kenge and -Carboy, Lincoln's Inn." - -I replied, that I remembered to have seen him once before. - -"Pray be seated--here, near me. Don't distress yourself; it's of no use. -Mrs. Rachael, I needn't inform you, who were acquainted with the late -Miss Barbary's affairs, that her means die with her; and that this young -lady, now her aunt is dead--" - -"My aunt, sir!" - -"It really is of no use carrying on a deception when no object is to be -gained by it," said Mr. Kenge, smoothly. "Aunt in fact, though not in -law. Don't distress yourself! Don't weep! Don't tremble! Mrs. Rachael, -our young friend has no doubt heard of--the--a--Jarndyce and Jarndyce." - -"Never," said Mrs. Rachel. - -"Is it possible," pursued Mr. Kenge, putting up his eye-glasses, "that -our young friend--I _beg_ you won't distress yourself!--never heard of -Jarndyce and Jarndyce?" - -I shook my head, wondering even what it was. - -"Not of Jarndyce and Jarndyce?" said Mr. Kenge, looking over his glasses -at me, and softly turning the case about and about, as if he were -petting something. "Not of one of the greatest Chancery suits known? Not -of Jarndyce and Jarndyce--the--a--in itself a monument of Chancery -practice? In which (I would say) every difficulty, every contingency, -every masterly fiction, every form of procedure known in that court, is -represented over and over again? It is a cause that could not exist, out -of this free and great country. I should say that the aggregate of costs -in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, Mrs. Rachael;" I was afraid he addressed -himself to her, because I appeared inattentive; "amounts at the present -hour to from SIX-TY to SEVEN-TY THOUSAND POUNDS!" said Mr. Kenge, -leaning back in his chair. - -I felt very ignorant, but what could I do? I was so entirely -unacquainted with the subject, that I understood nothing about it even -then. - -"And she really never heard of the cause!" said Mr. Kenge. "Surprising!" - - -"Miss Barbary, sir," returned Mrs. Rachael, "who is now among the -Seraphim--" - -("I hope so, I am sure," said Mr. Kenge, politely.) - -"--Wished Esther only to know what would be serviceable to her. And she -knows, from any teaching she has had here, nothing more." - -"Well!" said Mr. Kenge. "Upon the whole, very proper. Now to the point," -addressing me. "Miss Barbary, your sole relation (in fact, that is; for -I am bound to observe that in law you had none), being deceased, and it -naturally not being to be expected that Mrs. Rachael--" - -"O dear no!" said Mrs. Rachael, quickly. - -"Quite so," assented Mr. Kenge; "that Mrs. Rachael should charge -herself with your maintenance and support (I beg you won't distress -yourself), you are in a position to receive the renewal of an offer -which I was instructed to make to Miss Barbary some two years ago, and -which, though rejected then, was understood to be renewable under the -lamentable circumstances that have since occurred. Now, if I avow that I -represent, in Jarndyce and Jarndyce, and otherwise, a highly humane, but -at the same time singular man, shall I compromise myself by any stretch -of my professional caution?" said Mr. Kenge, leaning back in his chair -again, and looking calmly at us both. - -He appeared to enjoy beyond every thing, the sound of his own voice. I -couldn't wonder at that, for it was mellow and full, and gave great -importance to every word he uttered. He listened to himself with obvious -satisfaction, and sometimes gently beat time to his own music with his -head, or rounded a sentence with his hand. I was very much impressed by -him--even then, before I knew that he formed himself on the model of a -great lord who was his client, and that he was generally called -Conversation Kenge. - -"Mr. Jarndyce," he pursued, "being aware of the--I would say, -desolate--position of our young friend, offers to place her at a -first-rate establishment; where her education shall be completed, where -her comfort shall be secured, where her reasonable wants shall be -anticipated, where she shall be eminently qualified to discharge her -duty in that station of life unto which it has pleased--shall I say -Providence?--to call her." - -My heart was filled so full, both by what he said, and by his affecting -manner of saying it, that I was not able to speak, though I tried. - -"Mr. Jarndyce," he went on, "makes no condition, beyond expressing his -expectation, that our young friend will not at any time remove herself -from the establishment in question without his knowledge and -concurrence. That she will faithfully apply herself to the acquisition -of those accomplishments, upon the exercise of which she will be -ultimately dependent. That she will tread in the paths of virtue, and -honor, and--the--a--so forth." - -I was still less able to speak than before. - -"Now, what does our young friend say?" proceeded Mr. Kenge. "Take time, -take time! I pause for her reply. But take time!" - -What the destitute subject of such an offer tried to say, I need not -repeat. What she did say, I could more easily tell, if it were worth the -telling. What she felt, and will feel to her dying hour, I could never -relate. - -This interview took place at Windsor, where I had passed (as far as I -knew) my whole life. On that day week, amply provided with all -necessaries, I left it, inside the stage-coach, for Reading. - -Mrs. Rachael was too good to feel any emotion at parting, but I was not -so good, and wept bitterly. I thought that I ought to have known her -better after so many years, and ought to have made myself enough of a -favorite with her to make her sorry then. When she gave me one cold, -parting kiss upon my forehead, like a thaw-drop from the stone porch--it -was a very frosty day--I felt so miserable and self-reproachful that I -clung to her and told her it was my fault, I knew, that she could say -good-by so easily! - -"No, Esther!" she returned. "It is your misfortune!" - -The coach was at the little lawn gate--we had not come out until we -heard the wheels--and thus I left her, with a sorrowful heart. She went -in before my boxes were lifted to the coach-roof, and shut the door. As -long as I could see the house, I looked back at it from the window, -through my tears. My godmother had left Mrs. Rachael all the little -property she possessed; and there was to be a sale; and an old -hearth-rug with roses on it, which always seemed to me the first thing -in the world I had ever seen, was hanging outside in the frost and snow. -A day or two before, I had wrapped the dear old doll in her own shawl, -and quietly laid her--I am half-ashamed to tell it--in the garden-earth, -under the tree that shaded my own window. I had no companion left but my -bird, and him I carried with me in his cage. - -When the house was out of sight, I sat, with my bird-cage in the straw -at my feet, forward on the low seat to look out of the high window; -watching the frosty trees that were like beautiful pieces of spar; and -the fields all smooth and white with last night's snow; and the sun so -red but yielding so little heat; and the ice, dark like metal, where the -skaters and sliders had brushed the snow away. There was a gentleman in -the coach who sat on the opposite seat, and looked very large in a -quantity of wrappings; but he sat gazing out of the other window, and -took no notice of me. - -I thought of my dead godmother; of the night when I read to her; of her -frowning so fixedly and sternly in her bed; of the strange place I was -going to; of the people I should find there, and what they would be -like, and what they would say to me; when a voice in the coach gave me a -terrible start. - -It said, "What the de-vil are you crying for?" - -I was so frightened that I lost my voice, and could only answer in a -whisper. "Me, sir?" For of course I knew it must have been the -gentleman in the quantity of wrappings, though he was still looking out -of his window. - -"Yes, you," he said, turning round. - -"I didn't know I was crying, sir," I faltered. - -"But you are!" said the gentleman. "Look here!" He came quite opposite -to me from the other corner of the coach, brushed one of his large furry -cuffs across my eyes (but without hurting me), and showed me that it was -wet. - -"There! Now, you know you are," he said. "Don't you?" - -"Yes, sir," I said. - -"And what are you crying for?" said the gentleman. "Don't you want to go -there?" - -"Where, sir?" - -"Where? Why, wherever you are going," said the gentleman. - -"I am very glad to go there, sir," I answered. - -"Well, then! Look glad!" said the gentleman. - -I thought he was very strange, or at least that what I could see of him -was very strange, for he was wrapped up to the chin, and his face was -almost hidden in a fur cap, with broad fur straps at the side of his -head, fastened under his chin; but I was composed again, and not afraid -of him. So I told him that I thought I must have been crying, because of -my godmother's death, and because of Mrs. Rachael's not being sorry to -part with me. - -"Con-found Mrs. Rachael!" said the gentleman. "Let her fly away in a -high wind on a broomstick!" - -I began to be really afraid of him now, and looked at him with the -greatest astonishment. But I thought that he had pleasant eyes, although -he kept on muttering to himself in an angry manner, and calling Mrs. -Rachael names. - -After a little while, he opened his outer wrapper, which appeared to me -large enough to wrap up the whole coach, and put his arm down into a -deep pocket in the side. - -"Now, look here!" he said. "In this paper," which was nicely folded, "is -a piece of the best plum-cake that can be got for money--sugar on the -outside an inch thick, like fat on muttonchops. Here's a little pie (a -gem this is, both for size and quality), made in France. And what do you -suppose it's made of? Livers of fat geese. There's a pie! Now let's see -you eat 'em." - -"Thank you, sir," I replied; "thank you very much, indeed, but I hope -you won't be offended; they are too rich for me." - -"Floored again!" said the gentleman, which I didn't at all understand; -and threw them both out of window. - -He did not speak to me any more, until he got out of the coach a little -way short of Reading, when he advised me to be a good girl, and to be -studious; and shook hands with me. I must say I was relieved by his -departure. We left him at a milestone. I often walked past it afterward, -and never, for a long time, without thinking of him, and half-expecting -to meet him. But I never did; and so, as time went on, he passed out of -my mind. - -When the coach stopped, a very neat lady looked up at the window, and -said, - -"Miss Donny." - -"No, ma'am, Esther Summerson." - -"That is quite right," said the lady, "Miss Donny." - -I now understood that she introduced herself by that name, and begged -Miss Donny's pardon for my mistake, and pointed out my boxes at her -request. Under the direction of a very neat maid, they were put outside -a very small green carriage; and then Miss Donny, the maid, and I, got -inside, and were driven away. - -"Every thing is ready for you, Esther," said Miss Donny; "and the scheme -of your pursuits has been arranged in exact accordance with the wishes -of your guardian, Mr. Jarndyce." - -"Of ----, did you say, ma'am?" - -"Of your guardian, Mr. Jarndyce," said Miss Donny. - -I was so bewildered that Miss Donny thought the cold had been too severe -for me, and lent me her smelling-bottle. - -"Do you know my--guardian, Mr. Jarndyce, ma'am?" I asked, after a good -deal of hesitation. - -"Not personally, Esther," said Miss Donny; "merely through his -solicitors, Messrs. Kenge and Carboy, of London. A very superior -gentleman, Mr. Kenge. Truly eloquent, indeed. Some of his periods quite -majestic!" - -I felt this to be very true, but was too confused to attend to it. Our -speedy arrival at our destination, before I had time to recover myself, -increased my confusion; and I never shall forget the uncertain and -unreal air of every thing at Greenleaf (Miss Donny's house), that -afternoon! - -But I soon became used to it. I was so adapted to the routine of -Greenleaf before long, that I seemed to have been there a great while; -and almost to have dreamed, rather than to have really lived, my old -life at my godmother's. Nothing could be more precise, exact, and -orderly, than Greenleaf. There was a time for every thing all round the -dial of the clock, and every thing was done at its appointed moment. - -We were twelve boarders, and there were two Miss Donnys, twins. It was -understood that I would have to depend, by-and-by, on my qualifications -as a governess; and I was not only instructed in every thing that was -taught at Greenleaf, but was very soon engaged in helping to instruct -others. Although I was treated in every other respect like the rest of -the school, this single difference was made in my case from the first. -As I began to know more, I taught more, and so in course of time I had -plenty to do, which I was very fond of doing, because it made the dear -girls fond of me. At last, whenever a new pupil came, who was a little -downcast and unhappy, she was so sure--indeed I don't know why--to make -a friend of me, that all new-comers were confided to my care. They said -I was so gentle; but I am sure _they_ were! I often thought of the -resolution I had made on my birth-day, to try to be industrious, -contented, and true-hearted, and to do some good to some one, and win -some love if I could; and indeed, indeed, I felt almost ashamed to have -done so little, and have won so much. - -I passed at Greenleaf six happy, quiet years. I never saw in any face -there, thank Heaven, on my birthday, that it would have been better if I -had never been born. When the day came round, it brought me so many -tokens of affectionate remembrance, that my room was beautiful with them -from New-Year's Day to Christmas. - -In those six years I had never been away, except on visits at holiday -time in the neighborhood. After the first six months or so, I had taken -Miss Donny's advice in reference to the propriety of writing to Mr. -Kenge, to say that I was happy and grateful; and, with her approval, I -had written such a letter. I had received a formal answer acknowledging -its receipt, and saying, "We note the contents thereof, which shall be -duly communicated to our client." After that, I sometimes heard Miss -Donny and her sister mention how regularly my accounts were paid; and -about twice a year I ventured to write a similar letter. I always -received by return of post exactly the same answer, in the same round -hand; with the signature of Kenge and Carboy in another writing, which I -supposed to be Mr. Kenge's. - -It seems so curious to me to be obliged to write all this about -myself!--as if this narrative were the narrative of _my_ life! But my -little body will soon fall into the background now. - -Six quiet years (I find I am saying it for the second time) I had passed -at Greenleaf, seeing in those around me, as it might be in a -looking-glass, every stage of my own growth and change there, when, one -November morning, I received this letter. I omit the date. - - _Old Square, Lincoln's Inn._ - - _Madam,_ - - _Jarndyce and Jarndyce._ - - _Our clt Mr. Jarndyce being abt to rece into his house, under an - Order of the Ct of Chy, a Ward of the Ct in this cause, for whom he - wishes to secure an elgble compn, directs us to inform you that he - will be glad of your serces in the afsd capacity._ - - _We have arrngd for your being forded, carriage free, pr eight - o'clock coach from Reading, on Monday morning next, to White Horse - Cellar, Piccadilly, London, where one of our clks will be in waiting - to convey you to our offe as above._ - - _We are, Madam,_ - _Your obed^t Serv^ts,_ - _Kenge and Carboy._ - - _Miss Esther Summerson._ - -O, never, never, never shall I forget the emotion this letter caused in -the house! It was so tender in them to care so much for me; it was so -gracious in that Father who had not forgotten me, to have made my orphan -way so smooth and easy, and to have inclined so many youthful natures -toward me; that I could hardly bear it. Not that I would have had them -less sorry--I am afraid not; but the pleasure of it, and the pain of it, -and the pride and joy of it, and the humble regret of it, were so -blended, that my heart seemed almost breaking while it was full of -rapture. - -The letter gave me only five days' notice of my removal. When every -minute added to the proofs of love and kindness that were given me in -those five days; and when at last the morning came, and when they took -me through all the rooms, that I might see them for the last time; and -when some cried "Esther, dear, say good-by to me here, at my bedside, -where you first spoke so kindly to me!" and when others asked me only to -write their names, "With Esther's love;" and when they all surrounded mo -with their parting presents, and clung to me weeping, and cried, "What -shall we do when dear Esther's gone!" and when I tried to tell them how -forbearing, and how good they had all been to me, and how I blessed, and -thanked them every one; what a heart I had! - -And when the two Miss Donnys grieved as much to part with me, as the -least among them; and when the maids said, "Bless you, miss, wherever -you go!" and when the ugly lame old gardener, who I thought had hardly -noticed me in all those years, came panting after the coach to give me a -little nosegay of geraniums, and told me I had been the light of his -eyes--indeed the old man said so!--what a heart I had then! - -And could I help it, if with all this, and the coming to the little -school, and the unexpected sight of the poor children outside waving -their hats and bonnets to me, and of a gray-headed gentleman and lady, -whose daughter I had helped to teach, and at whose house I had visited -(who were said to be the proudest people in all that country), caring -for nothing but calling out "Good-by, Esther. May you be very happy!" -could I help it if I was quite bowed down in the coach by myself, and -said, "O, I am so thankful, I am so thankful!" many times over! - -But of course I soon considered that I must not take tears where I was -going, after all that had been done for me. Therefore, of course, I made -myself sob less, and persuaded myself to be quiet, by saying very often, -"Esther! now, you really must! This _will not_ do!" I cheered myself up -pretty well at last, though I am afraid I was longer about it than I -ought to have been; and when I had cooled my eyes with lavender water, -it was time to watch for London. - -I was quite persuaded that we were there, when we were ten miles off; -and when we really were there, that we should never get there. However, -when we began to jolt upon a stone pavement, and particularly when every -other conveyance seemed to be running into us and we seemed to be -running into every other conveyance, I began to believe that we really -were approaching the end of our journey. Very soon afterward we stopped. - -A young gentleman who had inked himself by accident, addressed me from -the pavement, and said, "I am from Kenge and Carboy's, miss, of -Lincoln's Inn." - -"If you please, sir," said I. - -He was very obliging; and as he handed me into a fly, after -superintending the removal of my boxes, I asked him whether there was a -great fire any where? For the streets were so full of dense brown smoke -that scarcely any thing was to be seen. - -"O dear no, miss," he said. "This is a London particular." - -I had never heard of such a thing. - -"A fog, miss," said the young gentleman. - -"O indeed!" said I. - -We drove slowly through the dirtiest and darkest streets that ever were -seen in the world (I thought), and in such a distracting state of -confusion that I wondered how the people kept their senses, until we -passed into sudden quietude under an old gateway, and drove on through a -silent square, until we came to an odd nook in a corner, where there was -an entrance up a steep broad flight of stairs, like an entrance to a -church. And there really was a church-yard outside under some cloisters, -for I saw the grave-stones from the staircase window. - -This was Kenge and Carboy's. The young gentleman showed me through an -outer office into Mr. Kenge's room--there was no one in it--and politely -put an arm-chair for me by the fire. He then called my attention to a -little looking-glass, hanging from a nail on one side, of the -chimney-piece. - -"In case you should wish to look at yourself, miss, after the journey, -as you're going before the Chancellor. Not that it's necessary, I am -sure," said the young gentleman, civilly. - -"Going before the Chancellor?" I said, startled for a moment. - -"Only a matter of form, miss," returned the young gentleman. "Mr. Kenge -is in court now. He left his compliments, and would you partake of some -refreshment;" there were biscuits and a decanter of wine on a small -table; "and look over the paper;" which the young gentleman gave me as -he spoke. He then stirred the fire, and left me. - -Every thing was so strange--the stranger for its being night in the -day-time, and the candles burning with a white flame, and looking raw -and cold--that I read the words in the newspaper without knowing what -they meant, and found myself reading the same words repeatedly. As it -was of no use going on in that way, I put the paper down, took a peep at -my bonnet in the glass to see if it was neat, and looked at the room -which was not half lighted, and at the shabby dusty tables, and -at the piles of writings, and at a bookcase full of the most -inexpressive-looking books that ever had any thing to say for -themselves. Then I went on, thinking, thinking, thinking; and the fire -went on, burning, burning, burning; and the candles went on flickering -and guttering, and there were no snuffers--until the young gentleman -by-and-by brought a very dirty pair; for two hours. - -At last Mr. Kenge came. _He_ was not altered; but he was surprised to -see how altered I was, and appeared quite pleased. "As you are going to -be the companion of the young lady who is now in the Chancellor's -private room, Miss Summerson," he said, "we thought it well that you -should be in attendance also. You will not be discomposed by the Lord -Chancellor, I dare say?" - -"No, sir," I said, "I don't think I shall." Really not seeing, on -consideration, why I should be. - -So Mr. Kenge gave me his arm, and we went round the corner, under a -colonnade, and in at a side door. And so we came, along a passage, into -a comfortable sort of room, where a young lady and a young gentleman -were standing near a great, loud-roaring fire. A screen was interposed -between them and it, and they were leaning on the screen, talking. - -They both looked up when I came in, and I saw in the young lady, with -the fire shining upon her, such a beautiful girl! With such rich golden -hair, such soft blue eyes, and such a bright, innocent, trusting face! - -"Miss Ada," said Mr. Kenge, "this is Miss Summerson." - -She came to meet me with a smile of welcome, and her hand extended, but -seemed to change her mind in a moment, and kissed me. In short, she had -such a natural, captivating, winning manner, that in a few minutes we -were sitting in the window-seat, with the light of the fire upon us, -talking together, as free and happy as could be. - -What a load off my mind! It was so delightful to know that she could -confide in me, and like me! It was so good of her, and so encouraging to -me! - -The young gentleman was her distant cousin, she told me, and his name -Richard Carstone. He was a handsome youth, with an ingenuous face, and a -most engaging laugh; and after she had called him up to where we sat, he -stood by us, in the light of the fire too, talking gayly, like a -light-hearted boy. He was very young; not more than nineteen then, if -quite so much, but nearly two years older than she was. They were both -orphans, and (what was very unexpected and curious to me) had never met -before that day. Our all three coming together for the first time, in -such an unusual place, was a thing to talk about; and we talked about -it; and the fire, which had left off roaring, winked its red eyes at -us--as Richard said--like a drowsy old Chancery lion. - -We conversed in a low tone, because a full-dressed gentleman in a bag -wig frequently came in and out, and when he did so, we could hear a -drawling sound in the distance, which he said was one of the counsel in -our case addressing the Lord Chancellor. He told Mr. Kenge that the -Chancellor would be up in five minutes; and presently we heard a bustle, -and a tread of feet, and Mr. Kenge said that the Court had risen, and -his lordship was in the next room. - -The gentleman in the bag wig opened the door almost directly, and -requested Mr. Kenge to come in. Upon that, we all went into the next -room; Mr. Kenge first, with my darling--it is so natural to me now, that -I can't help writing it; and there, plainly dressed in black, and -sitting in an arm-chair at a table near the fire, was his lordship, -whose robe, trimmed with beautiful gold lace, was thrown upon another -chair. He gave us a searching look as we entered, but his manner was -both courtly and kind. - -The gentleman in the bag wig laid bundles of papers on his lordship's -table, and his lordship silently selected one, and turned over the -leaves. - -"Miss Clare," then said the Lord Chancellor. "Miss Ada Clare?" - -Mr. Kenge presented her, and his lordship begged her to sit down near -him. That he admired her, and was interested by her, even _I_ could see -in a moment. It touched me, that the home of such a beautiful young -creature should be represented by that dry official place. The Lord High -Chancellor, at his best, appeared so poor a substitute for the love and -pride of parents. - -"The Jarndyce in question," said the Lord Chancellor, still turning over -leaves, "is Jarndyce of Bleak House." - -"Jarndyce of Bleak House, my lord," said Mr. Kenge. - -"A dreary name," said the Lord Chancellor. - -"But not a dreary place at present, my lord," said Mr. Kenge. - -"And Bleak House," said his lordship, "is in--" - -"Hertfordshire, my lord." - -"Mr. Jarndyce of Bleak House is not married?" said his lordship. - -"He is not, my lord," said Mr. Kenge. - -A pause. - -"Young Mr. Richard Carstone is present?" said the Lord Chancellor, -glancing toward him. - -Richard bowed and stepped forward. - -"Hum!" said the Lord Chancellor, turning over more leaves. - -"Mr. Jarndyce of Bleak House, my lord," Mr. Kenge observed, in a low -voice, "if I may venture to remind your lordship, provides a suitable -companion for--" - -"For Mr. Richard Carstone?" I thought (but I am not quite sure) I heard -his lordship say, in an equally low voice, and with a smile. - -"For Miss Ada Clare. This is the young lady. Miss Summerson." - -His lordship gave me an indulgent look, and acknowledged my courtesy -very graciously. - -"Miss Summerson is not related to any party in the cause, I think?" - -"No, my lord." - -Mr. Kenge leant over before it was quite said, and whispered. His -lordship, with his eyes upon his papers, listened, nodded twice or -thrice, turned over more leaves, and did not look toward me again, until -we were going away. - -Mr. Kenge now retired, and Richard with him, to where I was, near the -door, leaving my pet (it is so natural to me that again I can't help -it!) sitting near the Lord Chancellor; with whom his lordship spoke a -little apart; asking her, as she told me afterward, whether she had well -reflected on the proposed arrangement, and if she thought she would be -happy under the roof of Mr. Jarndyce of Bleak House, and why she thought -so? Presently he rose courteously, and released her, and then he spoke -for a minute or two with Richard Carstone; not seated, but standing, and -altogether with more ease and less ceremony--as if he still knew, though -he _was_ Lord Chancellor, how to go straight to the candor of a boy. - -"Very well!" said his lordship aloud. "I shall make the order. Mr. -Jarndyce of Bleak House has chosen, so far as I may judge," and this was -when he looked at me, "a very good companion for the young lady, and the -arrangement altogether seems the best of which the circumstances admit." - -He dismissed us pleasantly, and we all went out, very much obliged to -him for being so affable and polite; by which he had certainly lost no -dignity, but seemed to us to have gained some. - -When we got under the colonnade, Mr. Kenge remembered that he must go -back for a moment to ask a question; and left us in the fog, with the -Lord Chancellor's carriage and servants waiting for him to come out. - -"Well!" said Richard Carstone, "_that's_ over! And where do we go next, -Miss Summerson?" - -"Don't you know?" I said. - -"Not in the least," said he. - -"And don't _you_ know, my love?" I asked Ada. - -"No!" said she. "Don't you?" - -"Not at all!" said I. - -We looked at one another, half-laughing at our being like the children -in the wood, when a curious little old woman in a squeezed bonnet, and -carrying a reticule, came courtesying and smiling up to us, with an air -of great ceremony. - -"O!" said she. "The wards in Jarndyce! Ve-ry happy, I am sure, to have -the honor! It is a good omen for youth, and hope, and beauty, when they -find themselves in this place, and don't know what's to come of it." - -"Mad!" whispered Richard, not thinking she could hear him. - -"Right! Mad, young gentleman," she returned so quickly that he was quite -abashed. "I was a ward myself. I was not mad at that time," courtesying -low, and smiling between every little sentence. "I had youth, and hope. -I believe, beauty. It matters very little now. Neither of the three -served, or saved me. I have the honor to attend court regularly. With my -documents. I expect a judgment. Shortly. On the Day of Judgment. I have -discovered that the sixth seal mentioned in the Revelations is the -Great Seal. It has been open a long time! Pray accept my blessing." - -[Illustration: THE LITTLE OLD LADY.] - -As Ada was a little frightened, I said, to humor the poor old lady, that -we were much obliged to her. - -"Ye-es!" she said, mincingly. "I imagine so. And here is Conversation -Kenge. With _his_ documents. How does your honorable worship do?" - -"Quite well, quite well! Now don't be troublesome, that's a good soul!" -said Mr. Kenge, leading the way back. - -"By no means," said the poor old lady, keeping up with Ada and me. "Any -thing but troublesome. I shall confer estates on both--which is not -being troublesome, I trust? I expect a judgment. Shortly. On the Day of -Judgment. This is a good omen for you. Accept my blessing!" - -She stopped at the bottom of the steep, broad flight of stairs; but we -looked back as we went up, and she was still there, saying, still with a -courtesy and a smile between every little sentence, "Youth. And hope. -And beauty. And Chancery. And Conversation Kenge! Ha! Pray accept my -blessing!" - - -CHAPTER IV.--TELESCOPIC PHILANTHROPY. - -We were to pass the night, Mr. Kenge told us when we arrived in his -room, at Mrs. Jellyby's; and then he turned to me, and said he took it -for granted I knew who Mrs. Jellyby was? - -"I really don't, sir," I returned. "Perhaps Mr. Carstone--or Miss -Clare--" - -But no, they knew nothing whatever about Mrs. Jellyby. - -"In-deed! Mrs. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, standing with his back to the -fire, and casting his eyes over the dusty hearth-rug as if it were Mrs. -Jellyby's biography, "is a lady of very remarkable strength of -character, who devotes herself entirely to the public. She has devoted -herself to an extensive variety of public subjects, at various times, -and is at present (until something else attracts her) devoted to the -subject of Africa, with a view to the general cultivation of the coffee -berry--_and_ the natives--and the happy settlement, on the banks of the -African rivers, of our superabundant home population. Mr. Jarndyce, who -is desirous to aid in any work that is considered likely to be a good -work, and who is much sought after by philanthropists, has I believe, a -very high opinion of Mrs. Jellyby." - -Mr. Kenge, adjusting his cravat, then looked at us. - -"And Mr. Jellyby, sir?" suggested Richard. - -"Ah! Mr. Jellyby," said Mr. Kenge, "is--a--I don't know that I can -describe him to you better than by saying that he is the husband of Mrs. -Jellyby." - -"A nonentity, sir?" said Richard, with a droll look. - -"I don't say that," returned Mr. Kenge, gravely. "I can't say that, -indeed, for I know nothing whatever _of_ Mr. Jellyby. I never, to my -knowledge, had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Jellyby. He may be a very -superior man; but he is, so to speak, merged--merged--in the more -shining qualities of his wife." Mr. Kenge proceeded to tell us that as -the road to Bleak House would have been very long, dark, and tedious, on -such an evening, and as we had been traveling already, Mr. Jarndyce had -himself proposed this arrangement. A carriage would be at Mrs. Jellyby's -to convey us out of town, early in the forenoon of to-morrow. - -He then rang a little bell, and the young gentleman came in. Addressing -him by the name of Guppy, Mr. Kenge inquired whether Miss Summerson's -boxes and the rest of the baggage had been "sent round." Mr. Guppy said -yes, they had been sent round, and a coach was waiting to take us round -too, as soon as we pleased. - -"Then it only remains," said Mr. Kenge, shaking hands with us, "for me -to express my lively satisfaction in (good-day, Miss Clare!) the -arrangement this day concluded, and my (_good_-by to you, Miss -Summerson!) lively hope that it will conduce to the happiness, the (glad -to have had the honor of making your acquaintance, Mr. Carstone!) -welfare, the advantage in all points of view, of all concerned! Guppy, -see the party safely there." - -"Where _is_ 'there,' Mr. Guppy?" said Richard, as he went down stairs. - -"No distance," said Mr. Guppy; "round in Thavies' Inn, you know." - -"I can't say I know where it is, for I come from Winchester, and am -strange in London." - -"Only round the corner," said Mr. Guppy. "We just twist up -Chancery-lane, and out along Holborn, and there we are in four minutes' -time, as near as a toucher. This is about a London particular _now_, -ain't it, miss?" He seemed quite delighted with it on my account. - -"The fog is very dense indeed!" said I. - -"Not that it affects you, though, I am sure," said Mr. Guppy, putting up -the steps. "On the contrary, it seems to do you good, miss, judging from -your appearance." - -I knew he meant well in paying me this compliment, so I laughed at -myself for blushing at it, when he had shut the door and got upon the -box; and we all three laughed, and chatted about our inexperience, and -the strangeness of London, until we turned up under an archway, to our -destination: a narrow street of high houses, like an oblong cistern to -hold the fog. There was a confused little crowd of people, principally -children, gathered about the house at which we stopped, which had a -tarnished brass plate on the door, with the inscription, JELLYBY. - -"Don't be frightened!" said Mr. Guppy, look-in at the coach-window. "One -of the young Jellybys been and got his head through the area railings!" - -"O poor child," said I, "let me out, if you please!" - -"Pray be careful of yourself, miss. The young Jellybys are always up to -something," said Mr. Guppy. - -I made my way to the poor child, who was one of the dirtiest little -unfortunates I ever saw, and found him very hot and frightened, and -crying loudly, fixed by the neck between two iron railings, while a -milk-man and a beadle, with the kindest intentions possible, were -endeavoring to drag him back by the legs, under a general impression -that his skull was compressible by those means. As I found (after -pacifying him), that he was a little boy, with a naturally large head, I -thought that, perhaps, where his head could go, his body could follow, -and mentioned that the best mode of extrication might be to push him -forward. This was so favorably received by the milk-man and beadle, that -he would immediately have been pushed into the area, if I had not held -his pinafore, while Richard and Mr. Guppy ran down through the kitchen, -to catch him when he should be released. At last he was happily got down -without any accident, and then he began to beat Mr. Guppy with a -hoop-stick in quite a frantic manner. - -Nobody had appeared belonging to the house, except a person in pattens, -who had been poking at the child from below with a broom; I don't know -with what object, and I don't think she did. I therefore supposed that -Mrs. Jellyby was not at home; and was quite surprised when the person -appeared in the passage without the pattens, and going up to the back -room on the first floor, before Ada and me, announced us as, "Them two -young ladies, Missis Jellyby!" We passed several more children on the -way up, whom it was difficult to avoid treading on in the dark; and as -we came into Mrs. Jellyby's presence, one of the poor little things fell -down stairs--down a whole flight (as it sounded to me), with a great -noise. - -Mrs. Jellyby, whose face reflected none of the uneasiness which we could -not help showing in our own faces, as the dear child's head recorded its -passage with a bump on every stair--Richard afterward said he counted -seven, besides one for the landing--received us with perfect equanimity. -She was a pretty, very diminutive, plump woman, of from forty to fifty, -with handsome eyes, though they had a curious habit of seeming to look a -long way off. As if--I am quoting Richard again--they could see nothing -nearer than Africa! - -"I am very glad indeed," said Mrs. Jellyby, in an agreeable voice, "to -have the pleasure of receiving you. I have a great respect for Mr. -Jarndyce; and no one in whom he is interested can be an object of -indifference to me." - -We expressed our acknowledgments, and sat down behind the door, where -there was a lame invalid of a sofa. Mrs. Jellyby had very good hair, but -was too much occupied with her African duties to brush it. The shawl in -which she had been loosely muffled, dropped on to her chair when she -advanced to us; and as she turned to resume her seat, we could not help -noticing that her dress didn't nearly meet up the back, and the open -space was railed across with a lattice-work of stay-lace, like a -summer-house. - -The room, which was strewn with papers and nearly filled by a great -writing-table covered with similar litter, was, I must say, not only -very untidy, but very dirty. We were obliged to take notice of that with -our sense of sight, even while, with our sense of hearing, we followed -the poor child who had tumbled down stairs: I think into the back -kitchen, where somebody seemed to stifle him. - -But what principally struck us was a jaded, and unhealthy-looking, -though by no means plain girl, at the writing-table, who sat biting the -feather of her pen, and staring at us. I suppose nobody ever was in such -a state of ink. And, from her tumbled hair to her pretty feet, which -were disfigured with frayed and broken slippers trodden down at heel, -she really seemed to have no article of dress upon her, from a pin -upward, that was in its proper condition or its right place. - -"You find me, my dears," said Mrs. Jellyby, snuffing the two great -office candles in tin candle-sticks, which made the room taste strongly -of hot tallow (the fire had gone out, and there was nothing in the grate -but ashes, a bundle of wood, and a poker), "you find me, my dears, as -usual, very busy; but that you will excuse. The African project at -present employs my whole time. It involves me in correspondence with -public bodies, and with private individuals anxious for the welfare of -their species all over the country. I am happy to say it is advancing. -We hope by this time next year to have from a hundred and fifty to two -hundred healthy families cultivating coffee and educating the natives of -Borrioboola-Gha, on the left bank of the Niger." - -As Ada said nothing, but looked at me, I said it must be very -gratifying. - -"It is gratifying," said Mrs. Jellyby. "It involves the devotion of all -my energies, such as they are; but that is nothing, so that it succeeds; -and I am more confident of success every day. Do you know, Miss -Summerson, I almost wonder that _you_ never turned your thoughts to -Africa?" - -This application of the subject was really so unexpected to me, that I -was quite at a loss how to receive it. I hinted that the climate-- - -"The finest climate in the world!" said Mrs. Jellyby. - -"Indeed, ma'am?" - -"Certainly. With precaution," said Mrs. Jellyby. "You may go into -Holborn, without precaution, and be run over. You may go into Holborn -with precaution, and never be run over. Just so with Africa." - -I said, "No doubt."--I meant as to Holborn. - -"If you would like," said Mrs. Jellyby, putting a number of papers -toward us, "to look over some remarks on that head, and on the general -subject (which have been extensively circulated), while I finish a -letter, I am now dictating--to my eldest daughter, who is my -amanuensis--" - -The girl at the table left off biting her pen, and made a return to our -recognition, which was half bashful and half sulky. - -"--I shall then have finished for the present," proceeded Mrs. Jellyby, -with a sweet smile; "though my work is never done. Where are you, -Caddy?" - -"Presents her compliments to Mr. Swallow, and begs--'" said Caddy. - -"'--And begs,'" said Mrs. Jellyby, dictating, "to inform him, in -reference to his letter of inquiry on the African project.'--No, Peepy! -Not on any account!" - -Peepy (so self-named) was the unfortunate child who had fallen down -stairs, who now interrupted the correspondence by presenting himself, -with a strip of plaster on his forehead, to exhibit his wounded knees, -in which Ada and I did not know which to pity most--the bruises or the -dirt. Mrs. Jellyby merely added, with the serene composure with which -she said every thing, "Go along, you naughty Peepy!" and fixed her fine -eyes on Africa again. - -However, as she at once proceeded with her dictation, and as I -interrupted nothing by doing so, I ventured quietly to stop poor Peepy -as he was going out, and to take him up to nurse. He looked very much -astonished at it, and at Ada's kissing him; but soon fell fast asleep in -my arms, sobbing at longer and longer intervals, until he was quiet. I -was so occupied with Peepy that I lost the letter in detail, though I -derived such a general impression from it of the momentous importance of -Africa, and the utter insignificance of all other places and things, -that I felt quite ashamed to have thought so little about it. - -"Six o'clock!" said Mrs. Jellyby. "And our dinner hour is nominally (for -we dine at all hours) five! Caddy, show Miss Clare and Miss Summerson -their rooms. You will like to make some change, perhaps? You will excuse -me, I know, being so much occupied. O, that very bad child! Pray put him -down, Miss Summerson!" - -I begged permission to retain him, truly saying that he was not at all -troublesome; and carried him up-stairs and laid him on my bed. Ada and I -had two upper rooms, with a door of communication between. They were -excessively bare and disorderly, and the curtain to my window was -fastened up with a fork. - -"You would like some hot water, wouldn't you?" said Mrs. Jellyby, -looking round for a jug with a handle to it, but looking in vain. - -"If it is not being troublesome," said we. - -"O, it's not the trouble," returned Miss Jellyby; "the question is, if -there _is_ any." - -The evening was so very cold, and the rooms had such a marshy smell, -that I must confess it was a little miserable; and Ada was half crying. -We soon laughed, however, and were busily unpacking, when Miss Jellyby -came back to say, that she was sorry there was no hot water; but they -couldn't find the kettle, and the boiler was out of order. - -We begged her not to mention it, and made all the haste we could to get -down to the fire again. But all the little children had come up to the -landing outside, to look at the phenomenon of Peepy lying on my bed; and -our attention was distracted by the constant apparition of noses and -fingers, in situations of danger between the hinges of the doors. It was -impossible to shut the door of either room; for my lock, with no knob to -it, looked as if it wanted to be wound up; and though the handle of -Ada's went round and round with the greatest smoothness, it was attended -with no effect whatever on the door. Therefore I proposed to the -children that they should come in and be very good at my table, and I -would tell them the story of little Red Riding Hood while I dressed; -which they did, and were as quiet as mice, including Peepy, who awoke -opportunely before the appearance of the wolf. - -When we went down stairs we found a mug, with "A Present from Tunbridge -Wells" on it, lighted up in the staircase window with a floating wick; -and a young woman, with a swelled face bound up in a flannel bandage, -blowing the fire of the drawing-room (now connected by an open door with -Mrs. Jellyby's room), and choking dreadfully. It smoked to that degree -in short, that we all sat coughing and crying with the windows open for -half an hour; during which Mrs. Jellyby, with the same sweetness of -temper, directed letters about Africa. Her being so employed was, I must -say, a great relief to me; for Richard told us that he had washed his -hands in a pie-dish, and that they had found the kettle on his -dressing-table; and he made Ada laugh so, that they made me laugh in the -most ridiculous manner. - -Soon after seven o'clock we went down to dinner; carefully, by Mrs. -Jellyby's advice; for the stair-carpets, besides being very deficient in -stair-wires, were so torn as to be absolute traps. We had a fine -cod-fish, a piece of roast beef, a dish of cutlets, and a pudding; an -excellent dinner, if it had had any cooking to speak of, but it was -almost raw. The young woman with the flannel bandage waited, and dropped -every thing on the table wherever it happened to go, and never moved it -again until she put it on the stairs. The person I had seen in pattens -(who I suppose to have been the cook), frequently came and skirmished -with her at the door, and there appeared to be ill-will between them. - -All through dinner; which was long, in consequence of such accidents as -the dish of potatoes being mislaid in the coal-skuttle, and the handle -of the cork-screw coming off, and striking the young woman in the chin; -Mrs. Jellyby preserved the evenness of her disposition. She told us a -great deal that was interesting about Borrioboola-Gha and the natives; -and received so many letters that Richard, who sat by her, saw four -envelopes in the gravy at once. Some of the letters were proceedings of -ladies' committees, or resolutions of ladies' meetings, which she read -to us; others were applications from people excited in various ways -about the cultivation of coffee, and natives; others required answers, -and these she sent her eldest daughter from the table three or four -times to write. She was full of business, and undoubtedly was, as she -had told us, devoted to the cause. - -I was a little curious to know who a mild, bald gentleman in spectacles -was, who dropped into a vacant chair (there was no top or bottom in -particular) after the fish was taken away, and seemed passively to -submit himself to Borrioboola-Gha, but not to be actively interested in -that settlement. As he never spoke a word, he might have been a native, -but for his complexion. It was not until we left the table, and he -remained alone with Richard, that the possibility of his being Mr. -Jellyby ever entered my head. But he was Mr. Jellyby; and a loquacious -young man, called Mr. Quale, with large shining knobs for temples, and -his hair all brushed to the back of his head, who came in the evening, -and told Ada he was a philanthropist, also informed her that he called -the matrimonial alliance of Mrs. Jellyby with Mr. Jellyby the union of -mind and matter. - -This young man, besides having a great deal to say for himself about -Africa, and a project of his for teaching the coffee colonists to teach -the natives to turn piano-forte legs and establish an export trade, -delighted in drawing Mrs. Jellyby out by saying, "I believe now, Mrs. -Jellyby, you have received as many as from one hundred and fifty to two -hundred letters respecting Africa in a single day, have you not?" or, -"If my memory does not deceive me, Mrs. Jellyby, you once mentioned that -you had sent off five thousand circulars from one post-office at one -time?"--always repeating Mrs. Jellyby's answer to us, like an -interpreter. During the whole evening, Mr. Jeilyby sat in a corner with -his head against the wall, as if he were subject to low spirits. It -seemed that he had several times opened his mouth when alone with -Richard, after dinner, as if he had something on his mind; but had -always shut it again, to Richard's extreme confusion, without saying any -thing. - -Mrs. Jellyby, sitting in quite a nest of waste paper, drank coffee all -the evening, and dictated at intervals to her eldest daughter. She also -held a discussion with Mr. Quale; of which the subject seemed to be--if -I understood it--the Brotherhood of Humanity; and gave utterance to some -beautiful sentiments. I was not so attentive an auditor as I might have -wished to be, however, for Peepy and the other children came flocking -about Ada and me in a corner of the drawing-room to ask for another -story: so we sat down among them, and told them, in whispers, Puss in -Boots and I don't know what else, until Mrs. Jellyby, accidentally -remembering them, sent them to bed. As Peepy cried for me to take him to -bed, I carried him up-stairs; where the young woman with the flannel -bandage charged into the midst of the little family like a dragoon, and -overturned them into cribs. - -After that, I occupied myself in making our room a little tidy, and in -coaxing a very cross fire that had been lighted, to burn; which, at -last, it did, quite brightly. On my return down stairs, I felt that Mrs. -Jellyby looked down upon me rather, for being so frivolous; and I was -sorry for it; though, at the same time, I knew that I had no higher -pretensions. - -It was nearly midnight before we could find an opportunity of going to -bed; and even then we left Mrs. Jellyby among her papers drinking -coffee, and Miss Jellyby biting the feather of her pen. - -"What a strange house!" said Ada, when we got up-stairs. "How curious of -my cousin Jarndyce to send us here!" - -"My love," said I, "it quite confuses me. I want to understand it, and I -can't understand it at all." - -"What?" asked Ada, with her pretty smile. - -"All this, my dear," said I. "It _must_ be very good of Mrs. Jellyby to -take such pains about a scheme for the benefit of Natives--and -yet--Peepy and the housekeeping!" - -Ada laughed: and put her arm about my neck, as I stood looking at the -fire; and told me I was a quiet, dear, good creature, and had won her -heart. "You are so thoughtful, Esther," she said, "and yet so cheerful! -and you do so much, so unpretendingly! You would make a home out of even -this house." - -My simple darling! She was quite unconscious that she only praised -herself, and that it was in the goodness of her own heart that she made -so much of me! - -"May I ask you a question?" said I, when we had sat before the fire a -little while. - -"Five hundred," said Ada. - -"Your cousin, Mr. Jarndyce. I owe so much to him: Would you mind -describing him to me?" - -Shaking back her golden hair, Ada turned her eyes upon me with such -laughing wonder, that I was full of wonder, too--partly at her beauty, -partly at her surprise. - -"Esther!" she cried. - -"My dear!" - -"You want a description of my cousin, Jarndyce?" - -"My dear, I never saw him." - -"And _I_ never saw him!" returned Ada. - -Well, to be sure! - -No, she had never seen him. Young as she was when her mamma died, she -remembered how the tears would come into her eyes when she spoke of him, -and of the noble generosity of his character, which she had said was to -be trusted above all earthly things; and Ada trusted it. Her cousin, -Jarndyce, had written to her a few months ago--"a plain, honest letter," -Ada said--proposing the arrangement we were now to enter on, and telling -her that, "in time, it might heal some of the wounds made by the -miserable Chancery suit." She had replied, gratefully accepting his -proposal. Richard had received a similar letter, and had made a similar -response. He _had_ seen Mr. Jarndyce once, but only once, five years -ago, at Winchester school. He had told Ada, when they were leaning on -the screen before the fire where I found them, that he recollected him -as "a bluff, rosy fellow." This was the utmost description Ada could -give me. - -It set me thinking so, that when Ada was asleep, I still remained before -the fire, wondering and wondering about Bleak House, and wondering and -wondering that yesterday morning should seem so long ago. I don't know -where my thoughts had wandered, when they were recalled by a tap at the -door. - -I opened it softly, and found Miss Jellyby shivering there, with a -broken candle in a broken candlestick in one hand, and an egg-cup in the -other. - -"Good-night!" she said, very sulkily. - -"Good-night!" said I. - -"May I come in?" she shortly and unexpectedly asked me, in the same -sulky way. - -"Certainly," said I. "Don't wake Miss Clare." - -She would not sit down, but stood by the fire, dipping her inky middle -finger in the egg-cup, which contained vinegar, and smearing it over the -ink stains on her face; frowning, the whole time, and looking very -gloomy. - -"I wish Africa was dead!" she said, on a sudden. - -I was going to remonstrate. - -"I do!" she said. "Don't talk to me, Miss Summerson. I hate it and -detest it. It's a beast!" - -I told her she was tired, and I was sorry. I put my hand upon her head, -and touched her forehead, and said it was hot now, but would be cool -to-morrow. She still stood, pouting and frowning at me; but presently -put down her egg-cup, and turned softly toward the bed where Ada lay. - -"She is very pretty!" she said, with the same knitted brow, and in the -same uncivil manner. - -I assented with a smile. - -"An orphan. Ain't she?" - -"Yes." - -"But knows a quantity, I suppose? Can dance, and play music, and sing? -She can talk French, I suppose, and do geography, and globes, and -needlework, and every thing?" - -"No doubt," said I. - -"_I_ can't," she returned. "I can't do any thing hardly, except write. -I'm always writing for Ma. I wonder you two were not ashamed of -yourselves to come in this afternoon, and see me able to do nothing -else. It was like your ill-nature. Yet you think yourselves very fine, -I dare say!" - -[Illustration: MISS JELLYBY.] - -I could see that the poor girl was near crying, and I resumed my chair -without speaking, and looked at her (I hope), as mildly as I felt toward -her. - -"It's disgraceful," she said. "You know it is. The whole house is -disgraceful. The children are disgraceful. _I_'m disgraceful. Pa's -miserable, and no wonder! Priscilla drinks--she's always drinking. It's -a great shame, and a great story, of you, if you say you didn't smell -her to-day. It was as bad as a public-house, waiting at dinner, you know -it was!" - -"My dear, I don't know it," said I. - -"You do," she said, very shortly. "You sha'n't say you don't. You do!" - -"O, my dear!" said I, "if you won't let me speak--" - -"You're speaking now. You know you are. Don't tell stories, Miss -Summerson." - -"My dear," said I, "as long as you won't hear me out--" - -"I don't want to hear you out." - -"O yes, I think you do," said I, "because that would be so very -unreasonable. I did not know what you tell me, because the servant did -not come near me at dinner; but I don't doubt what you tell me, and I am -sorry to hear it." - -"You needn't make a merit of that," said she. - -"No, my dear," said I. "That would be very foolish." - -She was still standing by the bed, and now stooped down (but still with -the same discontented face) and kissed Ada. That done, she came softly -back, and stood by the side of my chair. Her bosom was heaving in a -distressful manner that I greatly pitied; but I thought it better not to -speak. - -"I wish I was dead!" she broke out. "I wish we were all dead. It would -be a great deal better for us." - -"In a moment afterward, she knelt on the ground at my side, hid her face -in my dress, passionately begged my pardon, and wept. I comforted her, -and would have raised her, but she cried, No, no; she wanted to stay -there! - -"You used to teach girls," she said. "If you could only have taught me, -I could have learned from you! I am so very miserable, and I like you so -very much!" - -I could not persuade her to sit by me, or to do any thing but move a -ragged stool to where she was kneeling, and take that, and still hold my -dress in the same manner. By degrees, the poor tired girl fell asleep; -and then I contrived to raise her head so that it should rest on my lap, -and to cover us both with shawls. The fire went out, and all night long -she slumbered thus before the ashy grate. At first I was painfully -awake, and vainly tried to lose myself, with, my eyes closed, among the -scenes of the day. At length, by slow degrees, they became indistinct -and mingled. I began to lose the identity of the sleeper resting on me. -Now, it was Ada; now, one of my old Reading friends from whom I could -not believe I had so recently parted. Now, it was the little mad woman -worn out with courtesying and smiling; now, some one in authority at -Bleak House. Lastly, it was no one, and I was no one. - -The purblind day was feebly struggling with the fog, when I opened my -eyes to encounter those of a dirty-faced little spectre fixed upon me. -Peepy had scaled his crib, and crept down in his bedgown and cap, and -was so cold that his teeth were chattering as if he had cut them all. - - - - -HUNTING AN ALLIGATOR. - - -In the course of the year 1831, the proprietor of Halahala at Manilla, -in the Island of Luconia, informed me that he frequently lost horses and -cows on a remote part of his plantation, and that the natives assured -him they were taken by an enormous alligator who frequented one of the -streams which run into the lake. Their descriptions were so highly -wrought, that they were attributed to the fondness for exaggeration to -which the inhabitants of that country are peculiarly addicted, and very -little credit was given to their repeated relations. All doubts as to -the existence of the animal were at last dispelled by the destruction of -an Indian, who attempted to ford the river on horseback, although -entreated to desist by his companions, who crossed at a shallow place -higher up. He reached the centre of the stream and was laughing at the -others for their prudence, when the alligator came upon him. His teeth -encountered the saddle, which he tore from the horse, while the rider -tumbled on the other side into the water and made for the shore. The -horse, too terrified to move, stood trembling where the attack was made. -The alligator, disregarding him, pursued the man, who safely reached the -bank which he could easily have ascended, but, rendered foolhardy by his -escape, he placed himself behind a tree which had fallen partly into the -water, and drawing his heavy knife leaned over the tree, and on the -approach of his enemy struck him on the nose. The animal repeated his -assaults and the Indian his blows, until the former exasperated at the -resistance, rushed on the man and seizing him by the middle of the body, -which was at once inclosed and crushed in his capacious jaws, swam into -the lake. His friends hastened to the rescue, but the alligator slowly -left the shore, while the poor wretch, writhing and shrieking in his -agony, with his knife uplifted in his clasped hands, seemed, as the -others expressed it, held out as a man would carry a torch. His -sufferings were not long continued, for the monster sank to the bottom, -and soon after reappearing alone on the surface, and calmly basking in -the sun, gave to the horror-stricken spectators the fullest confirmation -of the death and burial of their comrade. - -A short time after this event I made a visit to Halahala, and expressing -a strong desire to capture or destroy the alligator, my host readily -offered his assistance. The animal had been seen a few days before, with -his head and one of his fore-feet resting on the bank, and his eyes -following the motions of some cows which were grazing near. Our informer -likened his appearance to that of a cat watching a mouse, and in the -attitude to spring upon his prey when it should come within his reach. I -may here mention as a curious fact, that the domestic buffalo, which is -almost continually in the water, and in the heat of day remains for -hours with only his nose above the surface, is never molested by the -alligator. All other animals become his victims when they incautiously -approach him, and their knowledge of the danger most usually prompts -them to resort to shallow places to quench their thirst. - -Having heard that the alligator had killed a horse, we proceeded to the -place, about five miles from the house; it was a tranquil spot and one -of singular beauty even in that land. The stream, which a few hundred -feet from the lake narrowed to a brook, with its green bank fringed with -the graceful bamboo, and the alternate glory of glade and forest -spreading far and wide, seemed fitted for other purposes than the -familiar haunt of the huge creature that had appropriated it to himself. -A few cane huts were situated at a short distance from the river, and we -procured from them what men they contained, who were ready to assist in -freeing themselves from their dangerous neighbor. The terror which he -had inspired, especially since the death of their companion, had -hitherto prevented them from making an effort to get rid of him, but -they gladly availed themselves of our preparations, and, with the usual -dependence of their character were willing to do whatever example should -dictate to them. Having reason to believe that the alligator was in the -river, we commenced operations by sinking nets upright across its mouth, -three deep, at intervals of several feet. The nets which were of great -strength, and intended for the capture of the buffalo, were fastened to -trees on the banks, making a complete fence to the communication with -the lake. - -My companion and myself placed ourselves with our guns on either side of -the stream, while the Indians with long bamboos felt for the animal. For -some time he refused to be disturbed, and we began to fear that he was -not within our limits, when a spiral motion of the water under the spot -where I was standing, led me to direct the natives to it, and the -creature slowly moved on the bottom toward the nets, which he no sooner -touched than he quietly turned back and proceeded up the stream. This -movement was several times repeated, till, having no rest in the -inclosure, he attempted to climb up the bank. On receiving a ball in the -body, he uttered a growl like that of an angry dog, and plunging into -the water crossed to the other side, where he was received with a -similar salutation, discharged directly into his mouth. Finding himself -attacked on every side, he renewed his attempts to ascend the banks; but -whatever part of him appeared was bored with bullets, and finding that -he was hunted, he forgot his own formidable means of attack, and sought -only safety from the troubles which surrounded him. A low spot which -separated the river from the lake, a little above the nets, was -unguarded, and we feared that he would succeed in escaping over it. It -was here necessary to stand firmly against him, and in several attempts -which he made to cross it, we turned him back with spears, bamboos, or -whatever came first to hand. He once seemed determined to force his way, -and foaming with rage, rushed with open jaws and gnashing his teeth with -a sound too ominous to be despised, appeared to have his full energies -aroused, when his career was stopped by a large bamboo thrust violently -into his mouth, which he ground to pieces, and the fingers of the holder -were so paralyzed that for some minutes he was incapable of resuming his -gun. The natives had now become so excited as to forget all prudence, -and the women and children of the little hamlet had come down to the -shore to share in the general enthusiasm. They crowded to the opening, -and were so unmindful of their danger that it was necessary to drive -them back with some violence. Had the monster known his own strength and -dared to have used it, he would have gone over that spot with a force -which no human power could have withstood, and would have crushed or -carried with him into the lake about the whole population of the place. -It is not strange that personal safety was forgotten in the excitement -of the scene. The tremendous brute, galled with wounds and repeated -defeat, tore his way through the foaming water, glancing from side to -side, in the vain attempt to avoid his foes; then rapidly plowing up the -stream he grounded on the shallows, and turned back frantic and -bewildered at his circumscribed position. At length, maddened with -suffering and desperate from continued persecution, he rushed furiously -to the mouth of the stream, burst through two of the nets, and I threw -down my gun in despair, for it looked as though his way at last was -clear to the wide lake; but the third net stopped him, and his teeth and -legs had got entangled in all. This gave us a chance of closer warfare -with lances, such as are used against the wild buffalo. We had sent for -this weapon at the commencement of the attack, and found it much more -effectual than guns. Entering the canoe, we plunged lance after lance -into the alligator, as he was struggling under the water, till a wood -seemed growing from him, which moved violently above while his body was -concealed below. His endeavors to extricate himself lashed the waters -into foam mingled with blood, and there seemed no end to his vitality or -decrease to his resistance till a lance struck him directly through the -middle of the back, which an Indian, with a heavy piece of wood, -hammered into him as he could catch an opportunity. My companion on the -other side now tried to haul him to the shore, by the nets to which he -had fastened himself, but had not sufficient assistance with him. As I -had more force with me, we managed, by the aid of the women and -children, to drag his head and part of his body on to the little beach, -and giving him the _coup de grace_, left him to gasp out the remnant of -his life. - -This monster was nearly thirty feet in length and thirteen feet in -circumference, and the head alone weighed three hundred pounds. On -opening him there were found, with other parts of the horse, three legs -entire, torn off at the haunch and shoulder, besides a large quantity of -stones, some of them of several pounds' weight. - - - - -THE MOOR'S REVENGE.[4] - -A PARAPHRASE FROM THE POLISH OF MICKIEWICZ - -BY EPES SARGENT. - - - Before Grenada's fated walls, - Encamped in proud array, - And flushed with many a victory, - The Spanish army lay. - Of all Grenada's fortresses - But one defies their might: - On Alphuara's minarets - The crescent still is bright. - Almanzor! King Almanzor! - All vainly you resist: - Your little band is fading fast - Away like morning mist. - A direr foe than ever yet - They met on battle-plain - Assaults life's inmost citadel, - And heaps the ground with slain. - - One onset more of Spanish ranks-- - (And soon it will be made!) - And Alphuara's towers must reel, - And in the dust be laid. - "And shall the haughty infidel - Pollute this sacred land?" - Almanzor said, as mournfully - He marked his dwindling band. - "Upon our glorious crescent - Shall the Spaniard set his heel? - And is there not one lingering hope? - Can Heaven no aid reveal? - Ay, by our holy Prophet, - _One_ ally still remains! - And I will bind him close to me,-- - For better death than chains!" - - The victors at the banquet sat, - And music lent its cheer, - When suddenly a sentry's voice - Announced a stranger near. - From Alphuara had he come. - With fierce, unwonted speed, - And much would it import to Spain - The news he bore to heed. - "Admit him!" cry the revelers; - And in the pilgrim strode, - And throwing off his mantle loose, - A Moorish habit showed! - "Almanzor! King Almanzor!" - They cried with one acclaim: - "Almanzor!" said the Moslem chief-- - "Almanzor is my name. - - "To serve your prophet and your king, - Oh, Spaniards! I am here; - Believe, reject me, if you will-- - This breast has outlived fear! - No longer in his creed or cause - Almanzor can confide; - For all the Powers above, 'tis clear, - Are fighting on your side!" - "Now, welcome, welcome, gallant Moor!" - The Spanish chieftain said; - "Grenada's last intrenchment now - We speedily shall tread. - Approach, embrace; our waning feast - Your coming shall renew; - And in this cup of foaming wine - We'll drink to yours and you." - - Right eagerly, to grasp the hands - Outstretched on every side, - Almanzor rushed, and greeted each, - As bridegroom might his bride; - He glued his fevered lips to theirs-- - He kissed them on the cheek, - And breathed on each as if his heart - Would all its passion wreak. - But suddenly his limbs relax, - A flush comes o'er his face, - He reels, as with a pressure faint, - He gives a last embrace; - And livid, purple, grows his skin, - And wild his eyeballs roll, - And some great torture seems to heave - The life-roots of his soul. - - "Look, Giaours! miscreants in race. - And infidels in creed! - Look on this pale, distorted face, - And tell me what ye read! - These limbs convulsed, these fiery pangs, - These eyeballs hot and blear-- - Ha! know ye not what they portend? - The plague--the plague is here! - And it has sealed you for its own! - Ay! every Judas kiss - I gave shall bring to you anon - An agony like this! - All art is vain; your poisoned blood - All leechcraft will defy; - Like me ye shall in anguish writhe-- - Like me in torture die!" - - Once more he stepped, their chief to reach - And blast him with his breath; - But sank, as if revenge itself - Were striving hard with death. - And through the group a horrid thrill - His words and aspect woke, - When, with a proud, undaunted mien, - Their chief Alphonzo spoke: - "And deem'st thou, treacherous renegade, - Whatever may befall, - These warriors true, these hearts of proof, - Death ever can appall? - Ay, writhe and toss, no taint of fear - The sight to them can bring; - Their souls are shrived, and Death himself - For them has lost his sting! - - "Then let him come as gory War, - With life-wounds deep and red, - Or let him strike as fell Disease - With racking pains instead-- - Still in these spirits he shall find - A power that shall defy - All woe and pain that can but make - The mortal body die. - So, brethren, leave this carrion here-- - Nay, choke not with thy gall!-- - And through our camp a note of cheer - Let every bugle call! - We'll tear yon crescent from its tower - Ere stars are out to-night: - And let Death come--we'll heed him not!-- - So forward! to the fight!" - - A groan of rage upon his lips, - Almanzor hid his head - Beneath his mantle's ample fold, - And soon was with the dead. - But, roused by those intrepid words, - To death-defying zeal, - The chieftains armed as if they longed - To hear the clash of steel. - The trumpets sounded merrily, - While, dazzlingly arrayed, - On Alphuara's walls they rushed, - And low the crescent laid! - And of the gallant, gallant hearts, - Who thus grim Death defied, - 'Mid pestilence and carnage, none - Of plague or battle died! - -[Footnote 4: From THE STANDARD SPEAKER; containing exercises in prose -and poetry, for declamation in schools, academies, lyceums, and -colleges. Newly translated or compiled from the most celebrated orators, -ancient and modern. By EPES SARGENT. In press by Thomas, Cowperthwait & -Co., Philadelphia.] - - - - -A TASTE OF FRENCH DUNGEONS. - -AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF MRS. RADCLIFFE. - - -Toward the middle of the year 1795, a short time after the deplorable -affair of Quiberon, an English lady was taken prisoner just as she was -entering France by the Swiss frontier. Her knowledge of French was -limited to a few mispronounced words. An interpreter was soon found, and -upon his interrogating her as to her motives for attempting so perilous -an enterprise without passport, she replied that she had exposed -herself to all these dangers for the purpose of visiting the château -where the barbarous Sieur de Fayel had made Gabrielle de Vergy eat the -heart of her lover. Such a declaration appeared so ridiculous to those -who heard it that they were compelled to doubt either the sanity or the -veracity of the strange being who ventured upon it. They chose to do the -latter, and forwarded the stranger to Paris, with a strong escort, as an -English spy. Upon her arrival there, she was safely deposited in the -Conciergerie. - -Public feeling just then ran very high against the English. The -countrywoman of Pitt was loaded with ill-usage; and her terrors, -expressed in a singular jargon of English mingled with broken French, -served but to augment the coarse amusement of her jailers. After -exhausting every species of derision and insult upon their prisoner, -they ended by throwing her into the dampest and most inconvenient -dungeon they could find. The door of this den was not more than four -feet high; and the light that dimly revealed the dripping walls and -earthen floor, came through a horizontal opening four inches in height -by fifteen in width. The sole movables of the place consisted of a rope -pallet and a screen. - -The bed served for both couch and chair; the screen was intended as a -partial barrier between the inhabitant of the dungeon and the curious -gaze of the jailers stationed in the adjoining apartment, who could -scrutinize at will, through a narrow opening between the cells, the -slightest movements of their prisoner. - -The stranger recoiled with disgust, and asked whether they had not a -less terrible place in which to confine a woman. - -"You are very bad to please, madame," replied her brutal jailer, -mimicking her defective French. "You are in the palace of Madame Capet." - -And shutting behind him the massive door, barricaded with plates of iron -and secured by three or four rusty bolts, he left her, to repeat his -joke to his companion, and enjoy with them the consternation of Madame -_Rosbif_. - -Meanwhile the prisoner fell upon her knees, and gazed around her with a -species of pious emotion. - -"What right have I," she cried, "to complain of being cast into this -dungeon, once inhabited by the Queen of France--the beautiful, the noble -Marie Antoinette? I sought food for my imagination; I undertook a -journey to France to visit the most celebrated sojourns of the most -celebrated individuals. Fortune has come to my aid. Here is what is -better than the château of the Sieur de Fayel, and the terrible history -of the bleeding heart. Never did a grander inspiration overflow my -spirits. I will to work." - -She drew from her pocket a small roll of paper, that had escaped the -scrutiny of the jailers; and, passing her hand across her forehead, -approached the horizontal opening, in order to make the most of the -little remainder of daylight; then, taking out a pencil, she rapidly -covered ten or twelve pages with microscopic characters in close lines. -The increasing darkness at length compelled her to pause, and she was -refolding the MS. to replace it in her pocket, when a rude hand snatched -it from her grasp. - -"Ah! ah! Madame Rosbif," cried the jailer, triumphantly, "so you believe -yourself at liberty to scribble away here, hatching plots against the -Republic, and holding intelligence with the enemies of the nation. _Nous -verrons cela!_ These papers shall be remitted this very day to Monsieur -Tallien, and we will know all about this new attack upon liberty. -_Entendez-vouz?_ miserable agent of Pitt and Cobourg." - -The same evening Tallien received the stranger's manuscript. Being -unacquainted with the English language, he rang for his secretary; but -the latter was nowhere at hand, so the puzzled minister took the papers -and proceeded to his wife's apartments. - -Madame Tallien was just completing her toilet for a fancy ball. Leaning -forward in a graceful attitude, she was in the act of twining round her -slender ankle the fastenings of a purple buskin. Her Grecian tunic, -simply clasped upon the shoulder with diamonds, and her hair, knotted -like that of the Polyhymnia of the Louvre, harmonized admirably with the -classical contour of her features. Monsieur Tallien, as he gazed upon -her, half forgot his errand. - -The lady uttered a little cry of surprise. - -"Upon what grave errand has monsieur deigned to favor me with a visit at -this unaccustomed hour?" - -"I have here some papers," replied the minister, "that have been seized -upon the person of a female spy, and are said to contain proofs of a -dangerous conspiracy. They are written in English; my secretary is -absent; and I must ask you to do me the favor to translate them to me." - -Madame Tallien took the MS., and looked it over. - -"Shall I read aloud?" said she, in an amused tone of voice. - -Her husband assented. - -"The wind howls mournfully through the foliage, and the descending rain -falls in torrents. The terrors of my prison become every instant more -fearful. Phantoms arise on every side, and wave their snowy -winding-sheets. Misfortune, with her cold and pitiless hand, weighs -heavily on my youthful brow.' - -"Thus spoke the lovely prisoner, as she groped with her trembling hands -over the humid walls of the dungeon." - -"Here is a singular conspiracy, truly," said Madame Tallien, as she -finished reading the above. "Let me see the envelope; 'Chapter XII. The -Dungeon of the Château.' And the authoress's name. 'Anne Radcliffe.' -_Vite, citoyen._ Set this woman at liberty, and bring her to me. Your -spy is no other than the great English romance-writer, the celebrated -authoress of the 'Mysteries of Udolpho!" - -Tallien now recalled the romantic intention of the stranger's hazardous -journey, as confessed by herself; perceived the mistake of his agents, -and laughed heartily. Going quickly out, he issued orders for the -immediate liberation of the prisoner, and desired the messenger to bring -her straight to the presence of Madame Tallien. - -Meanwhile, the beautiful Frenchwoman, forgetting her toilet and the -ball, paced the apartment with almost childish delight and impatience. -She was about to make the acquaintance--in a manner the most piquant and -unexpected--of the authoress of those romances which had so often filled -her vivid imagination with ideas of apparitions, and prisoners dying of -hunger in horrible dungeons. She consulted her watch perpetually, and -counted the very seconds. At length there was a sound of carriage-wheels -in the court-yard of the hotel. Madame Tallien rushed to the door; it -opened, and the two celebrated females stood face to face. - -The minister's wife could not avoid recoiling with surprise, and some -degree of consternation, before the singular figure that paused in the -open doorway; for Mrs. Radcliffe had stopped short, dazzled and -bewildered by the lights of the saloon, which wounded eyes accustomed -for some hours past to the humid obscurity of a dungeon. The English -authoress presented a striking contrast to the radiant being before her. -Dry, cold, and angular, her attire necessarily in some degree of -disorder from her arrest, forced journey, and imprisonment, her whole -aspect had in it something _bizarre_ and fantastic, that added to her -age at least ten years. - -A little recovered from her first surprise, Madame Tallien advanced -toward the stranger, gave her a cordial welcome in English, and told her -how happy she esteemed herself in having been the means of setting at -liberty so celebrated an authoress. The Englishwoman made a polite reply -to this compliment, and then they seated themselves before the fire, -whose clear flame and vivifying heat were very welcome to the liberated -prisoner, and quickly restored an activity of mind that appeared to have -been benumbed by the coldness of her dungeon. The ensuing conversation -was gay, piquant, full of charm and _abandon_, and was only interrupted -by the orders given by Madame Tallien to her _femme de chambre_ to send -the carriage away, and deny her to all visitors. - -Mrs. Radcliffe had traveled much, and related her adventures with grace -and originality. Hours flew by unheeded, and the Englishwoman was in the -very midst of some bold enterprise of her journey in Switzerland, when -the time-piece struck twelve. She turned pale, and a visible shuddering -seized her. Then pausing in her tale, she looked wildly and fearfully -around, as if following the movements of some invisible being. Madame -Tallien, struck with a species of vague terror, dared not address a -single word to her visitor. The latter at length abruptly rose, opened -the door, and with an imperative gesture ordered some one by the name of -Henry to leave the room, after which she appeared to experience a sudden -relief. - -The lovely Frenchwoman, with the tact of real kindness, appeared not to -notice this strange incident, and the new-made friends soon after -separated, Madame Tallien herself conducting her guest to the apartment -provided for her, where she took leave of her with an affectionate "_au -revoir!_" - -The following evening Mrs. Radcliffe appeared in her hostess's saloon, -as soon as the latter had signified that she was ready to receive her. -Calm and composed, habited _a la Française_, the English romancist -appeared ten years younger than she had done the evening before, and was -even not without a certain degree of beauty. She said not a word on the -scene of the preceding evening; was gay, witty, amiable, and took an -animated part in the conversation that followed. But as soon as the -minute-hand of the time-piece pointed to half-past eleven, her color -fled, a shade of pensiveness replaced her former gayety, and a few -moments afterward she took her leave of the company. - -The same thing happened the next day, and every ensuing evening. Madame -Tallien could not avoid a feeling of curiosity, but she had too much -politeness to question the stranger confided to her hospitality. In this -way a month elapsed, at the end of which time Mrs. Radcliffe could not -avoid expressing, one evening when she found herself alone with her new -friend, her disappointment at being detained a prisoner in France, -without the power of returning to her own country. Upon this Madame -Tallien rose, took a paper from a desk, and handed it to the -Englishwoman. It was a passport dated from the same evening that Mrs. -Radcliffe had been liberated from her dungeon. - -"Since you wish to leave your French friends," said her lovely hostess, -smiling, "go, ingrate!" - -"Oh, no, not ungrateful!" replied the authoress, taking the beautiful -hands of her friend, and carrying them to her lips; "but the year is -fast waning, and a solemn duty recalls me to my native land. In the -church-yard of a poor village near London are two tombs, which I visit -each Christmas-day with flowers and prayers. If I return not before -then, this will be the first time for five years that they have been -neglected. You already know all my other secrets," she continued, -lowering her voice; "it is my intention to confide this secret also to -your friendly ears." Passing her hand across her brow, the Englishwoman -then proceeded to relate a strange and tragic tale, for the particulars -of which we have not space in our limited sketch. Suffice it to say, -that it had left our authoress subject to a distressing and obstinate -spectral illusion. In the reality of this appearance she firmly -believed, not having sufficient knowledge of science to attribute her -visitation to its true origin--a partial disarrangement of the nervous -system. This visitation regularly recurred at midnight, and at once -accounted for the singular behavior that had so piqued the benevolent -Frenchwoman's curiosity. - -Mrs. Radcliffe now returned to London, where she shortly afterward -published "The Italian, or the Confessional of the Black Penitents." - -We can, in our day, realize to ourselves very little of the effect -produced by Anne Radcliffe's romances at the time of their appearance. -All the contemporary critics agree in testifying to their immense -success, only inferior to that of the Waverley novels in more recent -times. Now they appear nothing more than the efflux of a morbid -imagination, full of hallucinations and absurdities, and insufferably -tedious to our modern tastes, accustomed to the condensed writing of the -present day. Their unconnected plots are nevertheless not altogether -devoid of a certain sort of interest, and are fraught with picturesque -situations and melodramatic surprises. The living characters therein -introduced present few natural features. We recognize every where the -caprices of an unbridled fancy, and a prevailing vitiation of sense and -taste. - -Anne Radcliffe died near London, on the 7th February, 1823, at the age -of 63. The "New Monthly Magazine," for May of that year, announces her -decease, and affirms that her death was accompanied by singular visions, -which had pursued her ever since a romantic event of her youth. - - - - -MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.[5] - - -CHAPTER XVII.--CONTINUED. - -[Footnote 5: Continued from the March Number.] - -"Your flatterers will tell you, Signorina, that you are much improved -since then, but I liked you better as you were; not but what I hope to -return some day what you then so generously pressed upon me." - -"Pressed upon you!--I? Signor, you are under some strange mistake." - -"Alas! no; but the female heart is so capricious and fickle! You pressed -it upon me, I assure you. I own that I was not loth to accept it." - -"Pressed it? Pressed, what?" - -"Your kiss, my child," said Harley; and then added with a serious -tenderness, "And I again say that I hope to return it some day--when I -see you, by the side of father and of husband, in your native land--the -fairest bride on whom the skies of Italy ever smiled! And now, pardon a -hermit and a soldier for his rude jests, and give your hand in token of -that pardon, to--Harley L'Estrange." - -Violante, who at the first words of this address had recoiled, with a -vague belief that the stranger was out of his mind, sprang forward as it -closed, and in all the vivid enthusiasm of her nature, pressed the hand -held out to her, with both her own. "Harley L'Estrange--the preserver of -my father's life!" she cried, and her eyes were fixed on his with such -evident gratitude and reverence, that Harley felt at once confused and -delighted. She did not think at that instant of the hero of her -dreams--she thought but of him who had saved her father. But, as his -eyes sank before her own, and his head, uncovered, bowed over the hand -he held, she recognized the likeness to the features on which she had so -often gazed. The first bloom of youth was gone, but enough of youth -still remained to soften the lapse of years, and to leave to manhood the -attractions which charm the eye. Instinctively she withdrew her hands -from his clasp, and, in her turn, looked down. - -In this pause of embarrassment to both, Riccabocca let himself into the -garden by his own latch-key, and, startled to see a man by the side of -Violante, sprang forward with an abrupt and angry cry. Harley heard, and -turned. - -As if restored to courage and self-possession by the sense of her -father's presence, Violante again took the hand of the visitor. -"Father," she said, simply, "it is he--_he_ is come at last." And then, -retiring a few steps, she contemplated them both; and her face was -radiant with happiness--as if something, long silently missed and looked -for, was as silently found, and life had no more a want, nor the heart a -void. - - -BOOK X.--INITIAL CHAPTER. - -It is observed by a very pleasant writer--read nowadays only by the -brave, pertinacious few who still struggle hard to rescue from the House -of Pluto the souls of departed authors, jostled and chased as those -souls are by the noisy footsteps of the living--it is observed by the -admirable Charron, that "judgment and wisdom is not only the best, but -the happiest portion God Almighty hath distributed among men; for though -this distribution be made with a very uneven hand, yet nobody thinks -himself stinted or ill-dealt with, but he that hath never so little is -contented in _this_ respect."[6] - -[Footnote 6: Translation of _Charron on Wisdom_. By G. STANHOPE, D.D., -late Dean of Canterbury (1729). A translation remarkable for ease, -vigor, and (despite that contempt for the strict rules of grammar, which -was common enough among writers at the commencement of the last century) -for the idiomatic raciness of its English.] - -And, certainly, the present narrative may serve in notable illustration -of the remark so drily made by the witty and wise preacher. For whether -our friend Riccabocca deduce theories for daily life from the great -folio of Machiavel; or that promising young gentleman, Mr. Randal -Leslie, interpret the power of knowledge into the art of being too -knowing for dull honest folks to cope with him; or acute Dick Avenel -push his way up the social ascent with a blow for those before, and a -kick for those behind him, after the approved fashion of your strong New -Man; or Baron Levy--that cynical impersonation of Gold--compare himself -to the Magnetic Rock in the Arabian tale, to which the nails in every -ship that approaches the influence of the loadstone fly from the planks, -and a shipwreck per day adds its waifs to the Rock: questionless, at -least, it is, that each of these personages believed that Providence had -bestowed on him an elder son's inheritance of wisdom. Nor, were we to -glance toward the obscurer paths of life, should we find good Parson -Dale deem himself worse off than the rest of the world in this precious -commodity--as, indeed, he had signally evinced of late in that shrewd -guess of his touching Professor Moss; even plain Squire Hazeldean took -it for granted that he could teach Audley Egerton a thing or two worth -knowing in politics; Mr. Stirn thought that there was no branch of -useful lore on which he could not instruct the squire; and Sprott, the -tinker, with his bag full of tracts and lucifer matches, regarded the -whole framework of modern society, from a rick to a constitution, with -the profound disdain of a revolutionary philosopher. Considering that -every individual thus brings into the stock of the world so vast a share -of intelligence, it can not but excite our wonder to find that -Oxenstiern is popularly held to be right when he said, "See, my son, how -little wisdom it requires to govern states;"--that is, Men! That so many -millions of persons each with a profound assurance that he is possessed -of an exalted sagacity, should concur in the ascendency of a few -inferior intellects, according to a few stupid, prosy, matter-of-fact -rules as old as the hills, is a phenomenon very discreditable to the -spirit and energy of the aggregate human species! It creates no surprise -that one sensible watch-dog should control the movements of a flock of -silly, grass-eating sheep; but that two or three silly, grass-eating -sheep should give the law to whole flocks of such mighty sensible -watch-dog--_Diavolo!_ Dr. Riccabocca, explain _that_ if you can! And -wonderfully strange it is, that notwithstanding all the march of -enlightenment, notwithstanding our progressive discoveries in the laws -of nature--our railways, steam engines, animal magnetism, and -electro-biology--we have never made any improvement that is generally -acknowledged, since Men ceased to be troglodytes and nomads, in the -old-fashioned gamut of flats and sharps, which attunes into irregular -social jog-trot all the generations that pass from the cradle to the -grave; still, "_the desire for something we have not_" impels all the -energies that keep us in movement, for good for ill, according to the -checks or the directions of each favorite desire. - -A friend of mine once said to a _millionaire_, whom he saw forever -engaged in making money which he never seemed to have any pleasure in -spending, "Pray, Mr. ----, will you answer me one question: You are said -to have two millions, and you spend £600 a year. In order to rest and -enjoy, what will content you?" - -"A little more," answered the _millionaire_. That "little more" is the -mainspring of civilization. Nobody ever gets it! - -"Philus," saith a Latin writer, "was not so rich as Lælius; Lælius was -not so rich as Scipio; Scipio was not so rich as Crassus; and Crassus -was not so rich--as he wished to be!" If John Bull were once contented, -Manchester might shut up its mills. It is the "little more" that makes a -mere trifle of the National Debt!--Long life to it! - -Still, mend our law-books as we will, one is forced to confess that -knaves are often seen in fine linen, and honest men in the most shabby -old rags; and still, notwithstanding the exceptions, knavery is a very -hazardous game; and honesty, on the whole, by far the best policy. -Still, most of the Ten Commandments remain at the core of all the -Pandects and Institutes that keep our hands off our neighbors' throats, -wives, and pockets; still, every year shows that the Parson's -maxim--_quieta non movere_--is as prudent for the health of communities -as when Apollo recommended his votaries not to rake up a fever by -stirring the Lake Camarina; still people, thank Heaven, decline to -reside in parallelograms; and the surest token that we live under a free -government is, when we are governed by persons whom we have a full right -to imply, by our censure and ridicule, are blockheads compared to -ourselves! Stop that delightful privilege, and, by Jove! sir, there is -neither pleasure nor honor in being governed at all! You might as well -be--a Frenchman. - - -CHAPTER II. - -The Italian and his friend are closeted together. - -"And why have you left your home in ----shire? and why this new change -of name?" - -"Peschiera is in England." - -"I know it." - -"And bent on discovering me; and, it is said, of stealing from me my -child." - -"He has had the assurance to lay wagers that he will win the hand of -your heiress. I know that too; and therefore I have come to -England--first to baffle his design--for I do not think your fears are -exaggerated--and next to learn from you how to follow up a clew which, -unless I am too sanguine, may lead to his ruin, and your unconditional -restoration. Listen to me. You are aware that, after the skirmish with -Peschiera's armed hirelings, sent in search of you, I received a polite -message from the Austrian government, requesting me to leave its Italian -domains. Now, as I hold it the obvious duty of any foreigner, admitted -to the hospitality of a state, to refrain from all participation in its -civil disturbances, so I thought my honor assailed at this intimation, -and went at once to Vienna to explain to the Minister there (to whom I -was personally known), that though I had, as became man to man, aided to -protect a refugee, who had taken shelter under my roof, from the -infuriated soldiers at the command of his private foe, I had not only -not shared in any attempt at revolt, but dissuaded, as far as I could, -my Italian friends from their enterprise; and that because, without -discussing its merits, I believed, as a military man and a cool -spectator, the enterprise could only terminate in fruitless bloodshed. I -was enabled to establish my explanation by satisfactory proof; and my -acquaintance with the Minister assumed something of the character of -friendship. I was then in a position to advocate your cause, and to -state your original reluctance to enter into the plots of the -insurgents. I admitted freely that you had such natural desire for the -independence of your native land, that, had the standard of Italy been -boldly hoisted by its legitimate chiefs, or at the common uprising of -its whole people, you would have been found in the van, amidst the ranks -of your countrymen; but I maintained that you would never have shared in -a conspiracy frantic in itself, and defiled by the lawless schemes and -sordid ambition of its main projectors, had you not been betrayed and -decoyed into it by the misrepresentations and domestic treachery of your -kinsman--the very man who denounced you. Unfortunately, of this -statement I had no proof but your own word. I made, however, so far an -impression in your favor, and, it may be, against the traitor, that your -property was not confiscated to the State, nor handed over, upon the -plea of your civil death, to your kinsman." - -"How!--I do not understand. Peschiera has the property?" - -"He holds the revenues but of one-half upon pleasure, and they would be -withdrawn, could I succeed in establishing the case that exists against -him. I was forbidden before to mention this to you; the Minister, not -inexcusably, submitted you to the probation of unconditional exile. -Your grace might depend upon your own forbearance from farther -conspiracies--forgive the word. I need not say I was permitted to return -to Lombardy. I found, on my arrival, that--that your unhappy wife had -been to my house, and exhibited great despair at hearing of my -departure." - -Riccabocca knit his dark brows, and breathed hard. - -"I did not judge it necessary to acquaint you with this circumstance, -nor did it much affect me. I believed in her guilt--and what could now -avail her remorse, if remorse she felt? Shortly afterward, I heard that -she was no more." - -"Yes," muttered Riccabocca, "she died in the same year that I left -Italy. It must be a strong reason that can excuse a friend for reminding -me even that she once lived!" - -"I come at once to that reason," said L'Estrange, gently. "This autumn I -was roaming through Switzerland, and, in one of my pedestrian excursions -amidst the mountains, I met with an accident, which confined me for some -days to a sofa at a little inn in an obscure village. My hostess was an -Italian; and, as I had left my servant at a town at some distance, I -required her attention till I could write to him to come to me. I was -thankful for her cares, and amused by her Italian babble. We became very -good friends. She told me she had been servant to a lady of great rank, -who had died in Switzerland; and that, being enriched by the generosity -of her mistress, she had married a Swiss innkeeper, and his people had -become hers. My servant arrived, and my hostess learned my name, which -she did not know before. She came into my room greatly agitated. In -brief, this woman had been servant to your wife. She had accompanied her -to my villa, and known of her anxiety to see me, as your friend. The -government had assigned to your wife your palace at Milan, with a -competent income. She had refused to accept of either. Failing to see -me, she had set off toward England, resolved, upon seeing yourself; for -the journals had stated that to England you had escaped." - -"She dared!--shameless! And see, but a moment before, I had forgotten -all but her grave in a foreign soil--and these tears had forgiven her," -murmured the Italian. - -"Let them forgive her still," said Harley, with all his exquisite -sweetness of look and tone. "I resume. On entering Switzerland, your -wife's health, which you know was always delicate, gave way. To fatigue -and anxiety succeeded fever, and delirium ensued. She had taken with her -but this one female attendant--the sole one she could trust--on leaving -home. She suspected Peschiera to have bribed her household. In the -presence of this woman she raved of her innocence--in accents of terror -and aversion, denounced your kinsman--and called on you to vindicate her -name and your own." - -"Ravings indeed! Poor Paulina!" groaned Riccabocca, covering his face -with both hands. - -"But in her delirium there were lucid intervals. In one of these she -rose, in spite of all her servant could do to restrain her, took from -her desk several letters, and reading them over, exclaimed piteously, -'But how to get them to him?--whom to trust? And his friend is gone!' -Then an idea seemed suddenly to flash upon her, for she uttered a joyous -exclamation, sate down, and wrote long and rapidly; inclosed what she -wrote with all the letters, in one packet, which she sealed carefully, -and bade her servant carry to the post, with many injunctions to take it -with her own hand, and pay the charge on it. 'For, oh!' said she (I -repeat the words as my informant told them to me)--'for, oh, this is my -sole chance to prove to my husband that, though I have erred, I am not -the guilty thing he believes me; the sole chance, too, to redeem my -error, and restore, perhaps, to my husband his country, to my child her -heritage.' The servant took the letter to the post; and when she -returned, her lady was asleep, with a smile upon her face. But from that -sleep she woke again delirious, and before the next morning her soul had -fled." Here Riccabocca lifted one hand from his face, and grasped -Harley's arm, as if mutely beseeching him to pause. The heart of the man -struggled hard with his pride and his philosophy; and it was long before -Harley could lead him to regard the worldly prospects which this last -communication from his wife might open to his ruined fortunes. Not, -indeed, till Riccabocca had persuaded himself, and half persuaded Harley -(for strong, indeed, was all presumption of guilt against the dead), -that his wife's protestations of innocence from all but error had been -but ravings. - -"Be this as it may," said Harley, "there seems every reason to suppose -that the letters inclosed were Peschiera's correspondence, and that, if -so, these would establish the proof of his influence over your wife, and -of his perfidious machinations against yourself. I resolved, before -coming hither, to go round by Vienna. There I heard with dismay that -Peschiera had not only obtained the imperial sanction to demand your -daughter's hand, but had boasted to his profligate circle that he should -succeed; and he was actually on his road to England. I saw at once that -could this design, by any fraud or artifice, be successful with Violante -(for of your consent, I need not say, I did not dream), the discovery of -this packet, whatever its contents, would be useless: his end would be -secured. I saw also that his success would suffice forever to clear his -name; for his success must imply your consent (it would be to disgrace -your daughter, to assert that she had married without it), and your -consent would be his acquittal. I saw, too, with alarm, that to all -means for the accomplishment of his project he would be urged by -despair; for his debts are great, and his character nothing but new -wealth can support. I knew that he was able, bold, determined, and that -he had taken with him a large supply of money, borrowed upon usury;--in -a word, I trembled for you both. I have now seen your daughter, and I -tremble no more. Accomplished seducer as Peschiera boasts himself, the -first look upon her face, so sweet, yet so noble, convinced me that she -is proof against a legion of Peschieras. Now, then, return we to this -all-important subject--to this packet. It never reached you. Long years -have passed since then. Does it exist still? Into whose hands would it -have fallen? Try to summon up all your recollections. The servant could -not remember the name of the person to whom it was addressed; she only -insisted that the name began with a B, that it was directed to England, -and that to England she accordingly paid the postage. Whom, then, with a -name that begins with B, or (in case the servant's memory here mislead -her) whom did you or your wife know, during your visit to England, with -sufficient intimacy to make it probable that she would select such a -person for her confidante?" - -"I cannot conceive," said Riccabocca, shaking his head. "We came to -England shortly after our marriage. Paulina was affected by the climate. -She spoke not a word of English, and indeed not even French as might -have been expected from her birth, for her father was poor, and -thoroughly Italian. She refused all society. I went, it is true, -somewhat into the London world--enough to induce me to shrink from the -contrast that my second visit as a beggared refugee would have made to -the reception I met with on my first--but I formed no intimate -friendships. I recall no one whom she could have written to as intimate -with me." - -"But," persisted Harley, "think again. Was there no lady well acquainted -with Italian, and with whom, perhaps, for that very reason, your wife -become familiar?" - -"Ah, it is true. There was one old lady of retired habits, but who had -been much in Italy. Lady--Lady--I remember--Lady Jane Horton." - -"Horton--Lady Jane!" exclaimed Harley; "again! thrice in one day--is -this wound never to scar over?" Then, noting Riccabocca's look of -surprise, he said, "Excuse me, my friend; I listen to you with renewed -interest. Lady Jane was a distant relation of my own; she judged me, -perhaps, harshly--and I have some painful associations with her name; -but she was a woman of many virtues. Your wife knew her?" - -"Not, however, intimately--still, better than any one else in London. -But Paulina would not have written to her; she knew that Lady Jane had -died shortly after her own departure from England. I myself was summoned -back to Italy on pressing business; she was too unwell to journey with -me as rapidly as I was obliged to travel; indeed, illness detained her -several weeks in England. In this interval she might have made -acquaintances. Ah, now I see; I guess. You say the name began with B. -Paulina, in my absence, engaged a companion; it was at my suggestion--a -Mrs. Bertram. This lady accompanied her abroad. Paulina became -excessively attached to her, she knew Italian so well. Mrs. Bertram left -her on the road, and returned to England, for some private affairs of -her own. I forget why or wherefore; if, indeed, I ever asked or learned. -Paulina missed her sadly, often talked of her, wondered why she never -heard from her. No doubt it was to this Mrs. Bertram that she wrote!" - -"And you don't know the lady's friends or address?" - -"No." - -"Nor who recommended her to your wife?" - -"No." - -"Probably Lady Jane Horton?" - -"It may be so. Very likely." - -"I will follow up this track, slight as it is." - -"But if Mrs. Bertram received the communication, how comes it that it -never reached--O, fool that I am, how should it! I, who guarded so -carefully my incognito!" - -"True. This your wife could not foresee; she would naturally imagine -that your residence in England would be easily discovered. But many -years must have passed since your wife lost sight of this Mrs. Bertram, -if their acquaintance was made so soon after your marriage; and now it -is a long time to retrace--long before even your Violante was born." - -"Alas! yes. I lost two fair sons in the interval. Violante was born to -me as the child of sorrow." - -"And to make sorrow lovely! how beautiful she is!" - -The father smiled proudly. - -"Where, in the loftiest houses of Europe, find a husband worthy of such -a prize?" - -"You forget that I am still an exile--she still dowerless. You forget -that I am pursued by Peschiera; that I would rather see her a beggar's -wife--than--Pah, the very thought maddens me, it is so foul, _Corpo di -Bacco_! I have been glad to find her a husband already." - -"Already! Then that young man spoke truly?" - -"What young man?" - -"Randal Leslie. How! You know him?" Here a brief explanation followed. -Harley heard with attentive ear, and marked vexation, the particulars of -Riccabocca's connection and implied engagement with Leslie. - -"There is something very suspicious to me in all this," said he. "Why -should this young man have so sounded me as to Violante's chance of -losing a fortune if she married an Englishman?" - -"Did he? Oh, pooh! excuse him. It was but his natural wish to seem -ignorant of all about me. He did not know enough of my intimacy with you -to betray my secret." - -"But he knew enough of it--must have known enough to have made it right -that he should tell you I was in England. He does not seem to have done -so." - -"No--_that_ is strange--yet scarcely strange; for, when we last met, his -head was full of other things--love and marriage. _Basta!_ youth will be -youth." - -"He has no youth left in him!" exclaimed Harley, passionately. "I doubt -if he ever had any. He is one of those men who come into the world with -the pulse of a centenarian. You and I never shall be as old--as he was -in long-clothes. Ah, you may laugh; but I am never wrong in my -instincts. I disliked him at the first--his eye, his smile, his voice, -his very footstep. It is madness in you to countenance such a marriage: -it may destroy all chance of your restoration." - -"Better that than infringe my word once passed." - -"No, no," exclaimed Harley; "your word is not passed--it shall not be -passed. Nay, never look so piteously at me. At all events, pause till we -know more of this young man. If he be worthy of her without a dower, -why, then, let him lose you your heritage. I should have no more to -say." - -"But why lose me my heritage!" - -"Do you think the Austrian government would suffer your estates to pass -to this English jackanapes, a clerk in a public office? Oh, sage in -theory, why are you such a simpleton in action!" - -Nothing moved by this taunt, Riccabocca rubbed his hands, and then -stretched them comfortably over the fire. - -"My friend," said he, "the heritage would pass to my son--a dowry only -goes to the daughter." - -"But you have no son." - -"Hush! I am going to have one; my Jemima informed me of it yesterday -morning; and it was upon that information that I resolved to speak to -Leslie. Am I a simpleton now?" - -"Going to have a son," repeated Harley, looking very bewildered; "how do -you know it is to be a son?" - -"Physiologists are agreed," said the sage, positively, "that where the -husband is much older than the wife, and there has been a long interval -without children before she condescends to increase the population of -the world--she (that is, it is at least as nine to four)--she brings -into the world a male. I consider that point, therefore, as settled, -according to the calculations of statistics and the researches of -naturalists." - -Harley could not help laughing, though he was still angry and disturbed. - -"The same man as ever; always the fool of philosophy." - -"_Cospetto!_" said Riccabocca, "I am rather the philosopher of fools. -And talking of that, shall I present you to my Jemima?" - -"Yes; but in turn I must present you to one who remembers with gratitude -your kindness, and whom your philosophy, for a wonder, has not ruined. -Some time or other you must explain that to me. Excuse me for a moment; -I will go for him." - -"For him--for whom? In my position I must be cautious; and--" - -"I will answer for his faith and discretion. Meanwhile, order dinner, -and let me and my friend stay to share it." - -"Dinner? _Corpo di Bacco!_--not that Bacchus can help us here. What will -Jemima say?" - -"Henpecked man, settle that with your connubial tyrant. But dinner it -must be." - -I leave the reader to imagine the delight of Leonard at seeing once more -Riccabocca unchanged, and Violante so improved; and the kind Jemima, -too. And their wonder at him and his history, his books and his fame. He -narrated his struggles and adventures with a simplicity that removed -from a story so personal the character of egotism. But when he came to -speak of Helen, he was brief and reserved. - -Violante would have questioned more closely; but, to Leonard's relief, -Harley interposed. - -"You shall see her whom he speaks of, before long, and question her -yourself." - -With these words, Harley turned the young man's narrative into new -directions; and Leonard's words again flowed freely. Thus the evening -passed away happily to all save Riccabocca. But the thought of his dead -wife rose ever and anon before him; and yet when it did, and became too -painful, he crept nearer to Jemima, and looked in her simple face, and -pressed her cordial hand. And yet the monster had implied to Harley that -his comforter was a fool--so she was, to love so contemptible a -slanderer of herself, and her sex. - -Violante was in a state of blissful excitement; she could not analyze -her own joy. But her conversation was chiefly with Leonard; and the most -silent of all was Harley. He sate listening to Leonard's warm, yet -unpretending eloquence--that eloquence which flows so naturally from -genius, when thoroughly at its ease, and not chilled back on itself by -hard unsympathizing hearers--listened, yet more charmed, to the -sentiments less profound, yet no less earnest--sentiments so feminine, -yet so noble, with which Violante's fresh virgin heart responded to the -poet's kindling soul. Those sentiments of hers were so unlike all he -heard in the common world--so akin to himself in his gone youth! -Occasionally--at some high thought of her own, or some lofty line from -Italian song, that she cited with lighted eyes, and in melodious -accents--occasionally he reared his knightly head, and his lips -quivered, as if he had heard the sound of a trumpet. The inertness of -long years was shaken. The Heroic, that lay deep beneath all the humors -of his temperament, was reached, appealed to; and stirred within him, -rousing up all the bright associations connected with it, and long -dormant. When he rose to take leave, surprised at the lateness of the -hour, Harley said, in a tone that bespoke the sincerity of the -compliment, "I thank you for the happiest hours I have known for years." -His eye dwelt on Violante as he spoke. But timidity returned to her with -his words--at his look; and it was no longer the inspired muse, but the -bashful girl that stood before him. - -"And when shall I see you again?" asked Riccabocca disconsolately, -following his guest to the door. - -"When? Why, of course, to-morrow. Adieu! my friend. No wonder you have -borne your exile so patiently--with such a child!" - -He took Leonard's arm, and walked with him to the inn where he had left -his horse. Leonard spoke of Violante with enthusiasm. Harley was silent. - - -CHAPTER III. - -The next day a somewhat old-fashioned, but exceedingly patrician -equipage stopped at Riccabocca's garden-gate. Giacomo, who, from a -bedroom window, had caught sight of it winding toward the house, was -seized with undefinable terror when he beheld it pause before their -walls and heard the shrill summons at the portal. He rushed into his -master's presence, and implored him not to stir--not to allow any one to -give ingress to the enemies the machine might disgorge. "I have heard," -said he, "how a town in Italy--I think it was Bologna--was once taken -and given to the sword, by incautiously admitting a wooden horse, full -of the troops of Barbarossa, and all manner of bombs and Congreve -rockets." - -"The story is differently told in Virgil," quoth Riccabocca, peeping out -of the window. "Nevertheless, the machine looks very large and -suspicious; unloose Pompey!" - -"Father," said Violante, coloring, "it is your friend Lord L'Estrange; I -hear his voice." - -"Are you sure?" - -"Quite. How can I be mistaken?" - -"Go, then, Giacomo; but take Pompey with thee--and give the alarm, if we -are deceived." - -But Violante was right; and in a few moments Lord L'Estrange was seen -walking up the garden, and giving the arm to two ladies. - -"All," said Riccabocca, composing his dressing-robe round him, "go, my -child, and summon Jemima. Man to man; but, for Heaven's, sake woman -to-woman." - -Harley had brought his mother and Helen, in compliment to the ladies of -his friend's household. - -The proud countess knew that she was in the presence of Adversity, and -her salute to Riccabocca was only less respectful than that with which -she would have rendered homage to her sovereign. But Riccabocca, always -gallant to the sex that he pretended to despise, was not to be outdone -in ceremony; and the bow which replied to the courtesy would have -edified the rising generation, and delighted such surviving relicts of -the old Court breeding as may linger yet amidst the gloomy pomp of the -Faubourg St. Germain. These dues paid to etiquette, the countess briefly -introduced Helen, as Miss Digby, and seated herself near the exile. In a -few moments the two elder personages became quite at home with each -other; and really, perhaps, Riccabocca had never, since we have known -him, showed to such advantage as by the side of his polished, but -somewhat formal visitor. Both had lived so little with our modern, -ill-bred age! They took out their manners of a former race, with a sort -of pride in airing once more such fine lace and superb brocade. -Riccabocca gave truce to the shrewd but homely wisdom of his -proverbs--perhaps he remembered that Lord Chesterfield denounces -proverbs as vulgar; and gaunt though his figure, and far from elegant -though his dressing-robe, there was that about him which spoke -undeniably of the _grand seigneur_--of one to whom a Marquis de Dangeau -would have offered _fauteuil_ by the side of the Rohans and -Montmorencies. - -Meanwhile Helen and Harley seated themselves a little apart, and were -both silent--the first, from timidity; the second, from abstraction. At -length the door opened, and Harley suddenly sprang to his feet--Violante -and Jemima entered. Lady Lansmere's eyes first rested on the daughter, -and she could scarcely refrain from an exclamation of admiring surprise; -but then, when she caught sight of Mrs. Riccabocca's somewhat humble, -yet not obsequious mien--looking a little shy, a little homely, yet -still thoroughly a gentlewoman (though of your plain rural kind of that -genus)--she turned from the daughter, and with the _savoir vivre_ of the -fine old school, paid her first respects to the wife; respects -literally, for her manner implied respect--but it was more kind, simple -and cordial than the respect she had shown to Riccabocca; as the sage -himself had said, here, "it was Woman to Woman." And then she took -Violante's hand in both hers, and gazed on her as if she could not -resist the pleasure of contemplating so much beauty. "My son," she said, -softly, and with a half sigh--"my son in vain told me not to be -surprised. This is the first time I have ever known reality exceed -description!" - -Violante's blush here made her still more beautiful; and as the countess -returned to Riccabocca she stole gently to Helen's side. - -"Miss Digby, my ward," said Harley, pointedly, observing that his mother -had neglected her duty of presenting Helen to the ladies. He then -reseated himself, and conversed with Mrs. Riccabocca; but his bright -quick eye glanced ever at the two girls. They were about the same -age--and youth was all that, to the superficial eye, they seemed to have -in common. A greater contrast could not well be conceived; and, what is -strange, both gained by it. Violante's brilliant loveliness seemed yet -more dazzling, and Helen's fair, gentle face yet more winning. Neither -had mixed much with girls of their own age; each took to the other at -first sight. Violante, as the less shy, began the conversation. - -"You are his ward--Lord L'Estrange's?" - -"Yes." - -"Perhaps you came with him from Italy?" - -"No, not exactly. But I have been in Italy for some years." - -"Ah! you regret--nay, I am foolish--you return to your native land. But -the skies in Italy are so blue--here it seems as if nature wanted -colors." - -"Lord L'Estrange says that you were very young when you left Italy; you -remember it well. He, too, prefers Italy to England." - -"He! Impossible!" - -"Why impossible, fair skeptic?" cried Harley, interrupting himself in -the midst of a speech to Jemima. - -Violante had not dreamed that she could be overheard--she was speaking -low; but, though visibly embarrassed, she answered distinctly-- - -"Because in England there is the noblest career for noble minds." - -Harley was startled, and replied, with a slight sigh, "At your age I -should have said as you do. But this England of ours is so crowded with -noble minds, that they only jostle each other, and the career is one -cloud of dust." - -"So, I have read, seems a battle to the common soldier, but not to the -chief." - -"You have read good descriptions of battles, I see." - -Mrs. Riccabocca, who thought this remark a taunt upon her -daughter-in-law's studies, hastened to Violante's relief. - -"Her papa made her read the history of Italy, and I believe that is full -of battles." - -HARLEY.--"All history is, and all women are fond of war and of warriors. -I wonder why." - -VIOLANTE (turning to Helen, and in a very low voice, resolved that -Harley should not hear this time).--"We can guess why--can we not?" - -HARLEY (hearing every word, as if it had been spoken in St. Paul's -Whispering Gallery.)--"If you can guess, Helen, pray tell me." - -HELEN (shaking her pretty head, and answering with a livelier smile than -usual.)--"But I am not fond of war and warriors." - -HARLEY (to Violante).--"Then I must appeal at once to you, -self-convicted Bellona that you are. Is it from the cruelty natural to -the female disposition?" - -VIOLANTE (with a sweet musical laugh).--"From two propensities still -more natural to it." - -HARLEY.--"You puzzle me: what can they be?" - -VIOLANTE.--"Pity and admiration; we pity the weak, and admire the -brave." - -Harley inclined his head and was silent. - -Lady Lansmere had suspended her conversation with Riccabocca to listen -to this dialogue. "Charming!" she cried. "You have explained what has -often perplexed me. Ah, Harley, I am glad to see that your satire is -foiled; you have no reply to that." - -"No; I willingly own myself defeated--too glad to claim the Signorina's -pity, since my cavalry sword hangs on the wall, and I can have no longer -a professional pretense to her admiration." - -He then rose, and glanced toward the window. "But I see a more -formidable disputant for my conqueror to encounter is coming into the -field--one whose profession it is to substitute some other romance for -that of camp and siege." - -"Our friend Leonard," said Riccabocca, turning his eye also toward the -window. "True; as Quevedo says wittily, 'Ever since there has been so -great a demand for type, there has been much less lead to spare for -cannon-balls.'" - -Here Leonard entered. Harley had sent Lady Lansmere's footman to him -with a note, that prepared him to meet Helen. As he came into the room, -Harley took him by the hand, and led him to Lady Lansmere. - -"The friend of whom I spoke. Welcome him now for my sake, ever after for -his own;" and then, scarcely allowing time for the Countess's elegant -and gracious response, he drew Leonard toward Helen. "Children," said -he, with a touching voice, that thrilled through the hearts of both, "go -and seat yourselves yonder, and talk together of the past. Signorina, I -invite you to renewed discussion upon the abstruse metaphysical subject -you have started; let us see if we can not find gentler sources for pity -and admiration than war and warriors." He took Violante aside to the -window. "You remember that Leonard, in telling you his history last -night, spoke, you thought, rather too briefly of the little girl who had -been his companion in the rudest time of his trials. When you would have -questioned more, I interrupted you, and said 'You should see her -shortly, and question her yourself.' And now what think you of Helen -Digby? Hush, speak low. But her ears are not so sharp as mine." - -VIOLANTE.--"Ah! that is the fair creature whom Leonard called his -child-angel? What a lovely innocent face!--the angel is there still." - -HARLEY (pleased both at the praise and with her who gave it).--"You -think so, and you are right. Helen is not communicative. But fine -natures are like fine poems--a glance at the first two lines suffices -for a guess into the beauty that waits you, if you read on." - -Violante gazed on Leonard and Helen as they sat apart. Leonard was the -speaker, Helen the listener; and though the former had, in his -narrative the night before, been indeed brief as to the episode in his -life connected with the orphan, enough had been said to interest -Violante in the pathos of their former position toward each other, and -in the happiness they must feel in their meeting again--separated for -years on the wide sea of life, now both saved from the storm and -shipwreck. The tears came into her eyes. "True," she said very softly, -"there is more here to move pity and admiration than in--" She paused. - -HARLEY.--"Complete the sentence. Are you ashamed to retract? Fie on your -pride and obstinacy." - -VIOLANTE.--"No; but even here there have been war and heroism--the war -of genius with adversity, and heroism in the comforter who shared it and -consoled. Ah! wherever pity and admiration are both felt, something -nobler than mere sorrow must have gone before: the heroic must exist." - -"Helen does not know what the word heroic means," said Harley, rather -sadly; "you must teach her." - -Is it possible, thought he as he spoke, that a Randal Leslie could have -charmed this grand creature? No heroic, surely, in that sleek young -place-man. "Your father," he said aloud, and fixing his eyes on her -face, "sees much, he tells me, of a young man, about Leonard's age, as -to date; but I never estimate the age of men by the parish register; and -I should speak of that so-called young man as a contemporary of my -great-grandfather;--I mean Mr. Randal Leslie. Do you like him?" - -"Like him?" said Violante slowly, and as if sounding her own mind. "Like -him--yes." - -"Why?" asked Harley, with dry and curt indignation. - -"His visits seem to please my dear father. Certainly, I like him." - -"Hum. He professes to like you, I suppose?" - -Violante laughed, unsuspiciously. She had half a mind to reply, "Is that -so strange?" But her respect for Harley stopped her. The words would -have seemed to her pert. - -"I am told he is clever," resumed Harley. - -"O, certainly." - -"And he is rather handsome. But I like Leonard's face better." - -"Better--that is not the word. Leonard's face is as that of one who has -gazed so often upon heaven; and Mr. Leslie's--there is neither sunlight -nor starlight reflected there." - -"My dear Violante!" exclaimed Harley, overjoyed; and he pressed her -hand. - -The blood rushed over the girl's cheek and brow; her hand trembled in -his. But Harley's familiar exclamation might have come from a father's -lips. - -At this moment, Helen softly approached them, and looking timidly into -her guardian's face, said, "Leonard's mother is with him: he asks me to -call and see her. May I?" - -"May you! A pretty notion the Signorina must form of your enslaved -state of pupilage, when she hears you ask that question. Of course you -may." - -"Will you take me there?" - -Harley looked embarrassed. He thought of the widow's agitation at his -name; of that desire to shun him, which Leonard had confessed, and of -which he thought he divined the cause. And so divining, he too shrank -from such a meeting. - -"Another time, then," said he, after a pause. - -Helen looked disappointed, but said no more. - -Violante was surprised at this ungracious answer. She would have blamed -it as unfeeling in another. But all that Harley did, was right in her -eyes. - -"Can not I go with Miss Digby?" said she, "and my mother will go too. We -both know Mrs. Fairfleld. We shall be so pleased to see her again." - -"So be it," said Harley; "I will wait here with your father till you -come back. O, as to my mother, she will excuse the--excuse Madame -Ricccabocca, and you too. See how charmed she is with _your_ father. I -must stay to watch over the conjugal interests of _mine_." - -But Mrs. Riccabocca had too much good old country breeding to leave the -Countess; and Harley was forced himself to appeal to Lady Lansmere. When -he had explained the case in point, the Countess rose and said---- - -"But I will call myself, with Miss Digby." - -"No," said Harley, gravely, but in a whisper. "No--I would rather not. I -will explain later." - -"Then," said the Countess aloud, after a glance of surprise at her son, -"I must insist on your performing this visit, my dear Madam, and you, -Signorina. In truth, I have something to say confidentially to--" - -"To me," interrupted Riccabocca. "Ah, Madame la Comtesse, you restore me -to five-and-twenty. Go, quick--O jealous and injured wife; go, both of -you, quick; and you, too, Harley." - -"Nay," said Lady Lansmere, in the same tone, "Harley must stay, for my -design is not at present upon destroying your matrimonial happiness, -whatever it may be later. It is a design so innocent that my son will be -a partner in it." - -Here the Countess put her lips to Harley's ear, and whispered. He -received her communication in attentive silence: but when she had done, -pressed her hand, and bowed his head, as if in assent to a proposal. - -In a few minutes, the three ladies and Leonard were on their road to the -neighboring cottage. - -Violante, with her usual delicate intuition, thought that Leonard and -Helen must have much to say to each other; and ignorant as Leonard -himself was, of Helen's engagement to Harley, began already, in the -romance natural to her age, to predict for them happy and united days in -the future. So she took her step-mother's arm, and left Helen and -Leonard to follow. - -"I wonder," she said musingly, "how Miss Digby became Lord L'Estrange's -ward. I hope she is not very rich, nor very high-born." - -"La, my love," said the good Jemima, "that is not like you; you are not -envious of her, poor girl?" - -"Envious! Dear mamma, what a word! But don't you think Leonard and Miss -Digby seem born for each other? And then the recollections of their -childhood--the thoughts of childhood are so deep, and its memories so -strangely soft!" The long lashes drooped over Violante's musing eyes as -she spoke. "And therefore," she said; after a pause, "therefore, I hoped -that Miss Digby might not be very rich, nor very high-born." - -"I understand you now, Violante," exclaimed Jemima, her own early -passion for match-making instantly returning to her; "for as Leonard, -however clever and distinguished, is still the son of Mark Fairfield the -carpenter, it would spoil all if Miss Digby was, as you say, rich and -high-born. I agree with you--a very pretty match, a very pretty match, -indeed. I wish dear Mrs. Dale were here now--she is so clever in -settling such matters." - -Meanwhile Leonard and Helen walked side by side a few paces in the rear. -He had not offered her his arm. They had been silent hitherto since they -left Riccabocca's house. - -Helen now spoke first. In similar cases it is generally the woman, be -she ever so timid, who does speak first. And here Helen was the bolder; -for Leonard did not disguise from himself the nature of his feelings, -and Helen was engaged to another; and her pure heart was fortified by -the trust reposed in it. - -"And have you ever heard more of the good Dr. Morgan, who had powders -against sorrow, and who meant to be so kind to us--though," she added, -coloring, "we did not think so then?" - -"He took my child-angel from me," said Leonard, with visible emotion; -"and if she had not returned, where and what should I be now? But I have -forgiven him. No, I have never met him since." - -"And that terrible Mr. Burley?" - -"Poor, poor Burley! He, too, is vanished out of my present life. I have -made many inquiries after him; all I can hear is that he went abroad, -supposed as a correspondent to some journal. I should like so much to -see him again, now that perhaps I could help him as he helped me." - -"_Helped_ you--ah!" - -Leonard smiled with a beating heart, as he saw again the dear, prudent, -warning look, and involuntary drew closer to Helen. She seemed more -restored to him and to her former self. - -"Helped me much by his instructions; more, perhaps, by his very faults. -You can not guess, Helen--I beg pardon, Miss Digby--but I forgot that we -are no longer children; you can not guess how much we men, and, more -than all perhaps, we writers, whose task it is to unravel the web of -human actions, owe even to our own past errors; and if we learn nothing -by the errors of others, we should be dull indeed. We must know where -the roads divide, and have marked where they lead to, before we can -erect our sign-posts; and books are the sign-posts in human life." - -"Books!--And I have not yet read yours. And Lord L'Estrange tells me you -are famous now. Yet you remember me still--the poor orphan child, whom -you first saw weeping at her father's grave, and with whom you burdened -your own young life, over-burdened already. No, still call me Helen--you -must always be to me--a brother! Lord L'Estrange feels _that_; he said -so to me when he told me that we were to meet again. He is so generous, -so noble. Brother!" cried Helen, suddenly, and extending her hand, with -a sweet but sublime look in her gentle face--"brother, we will never -forfeit his esteem; we will both do our best to repay him! Will we -not--say so?" - -Leonard felt overpowered by contending and unanalyzed emotions. Touched -almost to tears by the affectionate address--thrilled by the hand that -pressed his own--and yet with a vague fear a consciousness that -something more than the words themselves was implied--something that -checked all hope. And this word "brother," once so precious and so dear, -why did he shrink from it now?--why could he not too say the sweet word -"sister?" - -"She is above me now and evermore?" he thought, mournfully; and the -tones of his voice, when he spoke again, were changed. The appeal to -renewed intimacy but made him more distant; and to that appeal itself he -made no direct answer; for Mrs. Riccabocca, now turning round, and -pointing to the cottage which came in view, with its picturesque -gable-ends, cried out, - -"But is that your house, Leonard? I never saw any thing so pretty." - -"You do not remember it, then," said Leonard to Helen, in accents of -melancholy reproach--"there where I saw you last! I doubted whether to -keep it exactly as it was, and I said, 'No! the association is not -changed because we try to surround it with whatever beauty we can -create; the dearer the association, the more the Beautiful becomes to it -natural." "Perhaps you don't understand this--perhaps it is only we poor -poets who do." - -"I understand it," said Helen, gently. She looked wistfully at the -cottage. - -"So changed--I have so often pictured it to myself--never, never like -this; yet I loved it, commonplace as it was to my recollection; and the -garret, and the tree in the carpenter's yard." - -She did not give these thoughts utterance And they now entered the -garden. - - -CHAPTER IV. - -Mrs. Fairfield was a proud woman when she received Mrs. Riccabocca and -Violante in her grand house; for a grand house to her was that cottage -to which her boy Lenny had brought her home. Proud, indeed, ever was -Widow Fairfield; but she thought then in her secret heart, that if ever -she could receive in the drawing-room of that grand house the great -Mrs. Hazeldean, who had so lectured her for refusing to live any longer -in the humble tenement rented of the Squire, the cup of human bliss -would be filled, and she could contentedly die of the pride of it. She -did not much notice Helen--her attention was too absorbed by the ladies -who renewed their old acquaintance with her, and she carried them all -over the house, yea, into the very kitchen; and so, somehow or other, -there was a short time when Helen and Leonard found themselves alone. It -was in the study. Helen had unconsciously seated herself in Leonard's -own chair, and she was gazing with anxious and wistful interest on the -scattered papers, looking so disorderly (though, in truth, in that -disorder there was method, but method only known to the owner), and at -the venerable, well-worn books, in all languages, lying on the floor, on -the chairs--any where. I must confess that Helen's first tidy womanlike -idea was a great desire to arrange the latter. "Poor Leonard," she -thought to herself--"the rest of the house so neat, but no one to take -care of his own room and of him!" - -As if he divined her thought, Leonard smiled, and said, "It would be a -cruel kindness to the spider, if the gentlest hand in the world tried to -set its cobweb to rights." - -HELEN.--"You were not quite so bad in the old days." - -LEONARD.--"Yet even then, you were obliged to take care of the money. I -have more books now, and more money. My present housekeeper lets me take -care of the books, but she is less indulgent as to the money." - -HELEN (archly).--"Are you as absent as ever?" - -LEONARD.--"Much more so, I fear. The habit is incorrigible, Miss -Digby--" - -HELEN.--"Not Miss Digby--sister, if you like." - -LEONARD (evading the word that implied so forbidden an -affinity).--"Helen, will you grant me a favor? Your eyes and your smile -say 'yes.' Will you lay aside, for one minute, your shawl and bonnet? -What! can you be surprised that I ask it? Can you not understand that I -wish for one minute to think you are at home again under this roof?" - -Helen cast down her eyes, and seemed troubled; then she raised them, -with a soft angelic candor in their dovelike blue, and as if in shelter -from all thoughts of more warm affection, again murmured "_brother_," -and did as he asked her. - -So there she sate, among the dull books, by his table, near the open -window--her fair hair parted on her forehead--looking so good, so calm, -so happy! Leonard wondered at his own self-command. His heart yearned to -her with such inexpressible love--his lips so longed to murmur, "Ah, as -now so could it be forever! Is the home too mean?" But that word -"brother" was as a talisman between her and him. - -Yet she looked so at home--perhaps so at home she felt!--more certainly -than she had yet learned to do in that stiff stately house in which she -was soon to have a daughter's rights. Was she suddenly made aware of -this--that she so suddenly arose--and with a look of alarm and distress -on her face-- - -"But--we are keeping Lady Lansmere too long," she said, falteringly. "We -must go now," and she hastily took up her shawl and bonnet. - -Just then Mrs. Fairfield entered with the visitors, and began making -excuses for inattention to Miss Digby, whose identity with Leonard's -child-angel she had not yet learned. - -Helen received these apologies with her usual sweetness. "Nay," she -said, "your son and I are such old friends, how could you stand on -ceremony with me?" - -"Old friends!" Mrs. Fairfield stared amazed, and then surveyed the fair -speaker more curiously than she had yet done. "Pretty, nice spoken -thing," thought the widow; "as nice spoken as Miss Violante, and -humbler-looking-like--though as to dress, I never see any thing so -elegant out of a picter." - -Helen now appropriated Mrs. Riccabocca's arm; and after a kind -leave-taking with the widow, the ladies returned toward Riccabocca's -house. - -Mrs. Fairfield, however, ran after them with Leonard's hat and gloves, -which he had forgotten. - -"'Deed, boy," said she, kindly, yet scoldingly, "but there'd be no more -fine books, if the Lord had not fixed your head on your shoulders. You -would not think it, marm," she added to Mrs. Riccabocca, "but sin' he -has left you, he's not the 'cute lad he was; very helpless at times, -marm!" - -Helen could not resist turning round, and looking at Leonard, with a sly -smile. - -The widow saw the smile, and catching Leonard by the arm, whispered, -"But, where before have you seen that pretty young lady? Old friends!" - -"Ah, mother," said Leonard, sadly, "it is a long tale; you have heard -the beginning, who can guess the end?"--and he escaped. But Helen still -leant on the arm of Mrs. Riccabocca, and, in the walk back, it seemed to -Leonard as if the winter had resettled in the sky. - -Yet he was by the side of Violante, and she spoke to him with such -praise of Helen! Alas! it is not always so sweet as folks say, to hear -the praises of one we love. Sometimes those praises seem to ask -ironically, "And what right hast thou to hope because thou lovest? _All_ -love _her_." - - -CHAPTER V. - -No sooner had Lady Lansmere found herself alone with Riccabocca and -Harley than she laid her hand on the exile's arm, and, addressing him by -a title she had not before given him, and from which he appeared to -shrink nervously, said: "Harley, in bringing me to visit you, was forced -to reveal to me your incognito, for I should have discovered it. You may -not remember me, in spite of your gallantry. But I mixed more in the -world than I do now, during your first visit to England, and once sate -next to you at dinner at Carlton House. Nay, no compliments, but listen -to me. Harley tells me you have cause for some alarm respecting the -designs of an audacious and unprincipled--adventurer, I may call him; -for adventurers are of all ranks. Suffer your daughter to come to me, on -a visit, as long as you please. With me, at least, she will be safe; and -if you, too, and the--" - -"Stop, my dear madam," interrupted Riccabocca, with great vivacity; -"your kindness over-powers me. I thank you most gratefully for your -invitation to my child; but--" - -"Nay," in his turn interrupted Harley, "no buts. I was not aware of my -mother's intention when she entered this room. But since she whispered -it to me, I have reflected on it, and am convinced that it is but a -prudent precaution. Your retreat is known to Mr. Leslie--he is known to -Peschiera. Grant that no indiscretion of Mr. Leslie's betray the secret; -still I have reason to believe that the Count guesses Randal's -acquaintance with you. Audley Egerton this morning told me he had -gathered that, not from the young man himself, but from questions put to -himself by Madame di Negra; and Peschiera might, and would, set spies to -track Leslie to every house that he visits--might and would, still more -naturally, set spies to track myself. Were this man an Englishman, I -should laugh at his machinations; but he is an Italian, and has been a -conspirator. What he could do, I know not; but an assassin can penetrate -into a camp, and a traitor can creep through closed walls to one's -hearth. With my mother, Violante must be safe; that you can not oppose. -And why not come yourself?" - -Riccabocca had no reply to these arguments, so far as they affected -Violante; indeed, they awakened the almost superstitious terror with -which he regarded his enemy, and he consented at once that Violante -should accept the invitation proffered. But he refused it for himself -and Jemima. - -"To say truth," said he, simply, "I made a secret vow, on re-entering -England, that I would associate with none who knew the rank I had -formerly held in my own land. I felt that all my philosophy was needed, -to reconcile and habituate myself to my altered circumstances. In order -to find in my present existence, however humble, those blessings which -make all life noble--dignity and peace--it was necessary for poor, weak -human nature, wholly to dismiss the past. It would unsettle me sadly, -could I come to your house, renew awhile, in your kindness and -respect--nay, in the very atmosphere of your society--the sense of what -I have been; and then (should the more than doubtful chance of recall -from my exile fail me) to awake, and find myself for the rest of -life--what I am. And though, were I alone, I might trust myself perhaps -to the danger--yet my wife: she is happy and contented now; would she be -so, if you had once spoiled her for the simple position of Dr. -Riccabocca's wife? Should I not have to listen to regrets, and hopes, -and fears that would prick sharp through my thin cloak of philosophy? -Even as it is, since in a moment of weakness I confided my secret to -her, I have had 'my rank' thrown at me--with a careless hand, it is -true--but it hits hard, nevertheless. No stone hurts like one taken from -the ruins of one's own home; and the grander the home, why, the heavier -the stone! Protect, dear madam--protect my daughter, since her father -doubts his own power to do so. But--ask no more." - -Riccabocca was immovable here. And the matter was settled as he decided, -it being agreed that Violante should be still styled but the daughter of -Dr. Riccabocca. - -"And now, one word more," said Harley. "Do not confide to Mr. Leslie -these arrangements; do not let him know where Violante is placed--at -least, until I authorize such confidence in him. It is sufficient -excuse, that it is no use to know unless he called to see her, and his -movements, as I said before, may be watched. You can give the same -reason to suspend his visits to yourself. Suffer me, meanwhile, to -mature my judgment on this young man. In the mean while, also, I think -that I shall have means of ascertaining the real nature of Peschiera's -schemes. His sister has sought to know me; I will give her the occasion. -I have heard some things of her in my last residence abroad, which make -me believe that she can not be wholly the Count's tool in any schemes -nakedly villainous; that she has some finer qualities in her than I once -supposed; and that she can be won from his influence. It is a state of -war: we will carry it into the enemy's camp. You will promise me, then, -to refrain from all further confidence to Mr. Leslie." - -"For the present, yes," said Riccabocca, reluctantly. - -"Do not even say that you have seen me, unless he first tell you that I -am in England, and wish to learn your residence. I will give him full -occasion to do so. Pish! don't hesitate; you know your own proverb-- - - 'Boccha chiusa, ed occhio aperto - Non fece mai nissun deserto.' - -'The closed mouth and the open eye,' &c." - -"That's very true," said the Doctor, much struck. "Very true. '_In -boccha chiusa non c'entrano mosche._' One can't swallow flies if one -keeps one's mouth shut. _Corpo di Bacco!_ that's very true, indeed!" - -Harley took aside the Italian. - -"You see if our hope of discovering the lost packet, or if our belief in -the nature of its contents, be too sanguine, still, in a few months it -is possible that Peschiera can have no further designs on your -daughter--possible that a son may be born to you, and Violante would -cease to be in danger, because she would cease to be an heiress. Indeed, -it may be well to let Peschiera know this chance; it would, at least, -make him delay all his plans while we are tracking the document that may -defeat them forever." - -"No, no! for heaven's sake, no!" exclaimed Riccabocca, pale as ashes. -"Not a word to him. I don't mean to impute to him crimes of which he -may be innocent. But he meant to take my life when I escaped the pursuit -of his hirelings in Italy. He did not hesitate, in his avarice, to -denounce a kinsman; expose hundreds to the sword, if resisting--to the -dungeon, if passive. Did he know that my wife might bear me a son, how -can I tell that his designs might not change into others still darker, -and more monstrous, than those he now openly parades, though, after all, -not more infamous and vile. Would my wife's life be safe? Not more -difficult to convey poison into my house, than to steal my child from my -hearth. Don't despise me; but when I think of my wife, my daughter, and -that man, my mind forsakes me: I am one fear." - -"Nay, this apprehension is too exaggerated. We do not live in the age of -the Borgias. Could Peschiera resort to the risks of a murder; it is for -yourself that you should fear." - -"For myself!--I! I!" cried the exile, raising his tall stature to its -full height. "Is it not enough degradation to a man who has borne the -name of such ancestors, to fear for those he loves! Fear for myself! Is -it you who ask if I am a coward?" - -He recovered himself, as he felt Harley's penitential and admiring grasp -of the hand. - -"See," said he, turning to the Countess, with a melancholy smile, "how -even one hour of your society destroys the habits of years. Dr. -Riccabocca is talking of his ancestors!" - - -CHAPTER VI. - -Violante and Jemima were both greatly surprised, as the reader may -suppose, when they heard, on their return, the arrangements already made -for the former. The Countess insisted on taking her at once, and -Riccabocca briefly said, "Certainly, the sooner the better." Violante -was stunned and bewildered. Jemima hastened to make up a little bundle -of things necessary, with many a woman's sigh that the poor wardrobe -contained so few things befitting. But among the clothes she slipped a -purse, containing the savings of months, perhaps of years, and with it a -few affectionate lines, begging Violante to ask the Countess to buy her -all that was proper for her father's child. There is always something -hurried and uncomfortable in the abrupt and unexpected withdrawal of any -member from a quiet household. The small party broke into still smaller -knots. Violante hung on her father, and listened vaguely to his not very -lucid explanations. The Countess approached Leonard, and, according to -the usual mode with persons of quality addressing young authors, -complimented him highly on the books she had not read, but which her son -assured her were so remarkable. She was a little anxious to know how -Harley had met with Mr. Oran, whom he called his friend; but she was too -high-bred to inquire, or to express any wonder that rank should be -friends with genius. - -She took it for granted that they had formed their acquaintance abroad. - -Harley conversed with Helen.--"You are not sorry that Violante is coming -to us? She will be just such a companion for you as I could desire; of -your own years too." - -HELEN (ingenuously).--"It is hard to think I am not younger than she -is." - -HARLEY.--"Why, my dear Helen?" - -HELEN.--"She is so brilliant. She talks so beautifully. And I--" - -HARLEY.--"And you want but the habit of talking, to do justice to your -own beautiful thoughts." - -Helen looked at him gratefully, but shook her head. It was a common -trick of hers, and always when she was praised. - -At last the preparations were made--the farewell was said. Violante was -in the carriage by Lady Lansmere's side. Slowly moved on the stately -equipage with its four horses and trim postillions, heraldic badges on -their shoulders, in the style rarely seen in the neighborhood of the -metropolis, and now fast vanishing even amidst distant counties. - -Riccabocca, Jemima, and Jackeymo continued to gaze after it from the -gate. - -"She is gone," said Jackeymo, brushing his eyes with his coat sleeve. -"But it is a load off one's mind." - -"And another load on one's heart," murmured Riccabocca. "Don't cry, -Jemima; it may be bad for you, and bad for _him_ that is to come. It is -astonishing how the humors of the mother may affect the unborn. I should -not like to have a son who has a more than usual propensity to tears." - -The poor philosopher tried to smile, but it was a bad attempt. He went -slowly in and shut himself up with his books. But he could not read. His -whole mind was unsettled. And though, like all parents, he had been -anxious to rid himself of a beloved daughter for life, now that she was -gone, but for a while, a string seemed broken in the Music of Home. - - -CHAPTER VII. - -The evening of the same day, as Egerton, who was to entertain a large -party at dinner, was changing his dress, Harley walked into his room. - -Egerton dismissed his valet by a sign, and continued his toilet. - -"Excuse me, my dear Harley, I have only ten minutes to give you. I -expect one of the royal dukes, and punctuality is the stern virtue of -men of business, and the graceful courtesy of princes." - -Harley had usually a jest for his friend's aphorisms; but he had none -now. He laid his hand kindly on Egerton's shoulder--"Before I speak of -my business, tell me how you are--better?" - -"Better--nay, I am always well. Pooh! I may look a little tired--years -of toil will tell on the countenance. But that matters little--the -period of life has passed with me when one cares how one looks in the -glass." - -As he spoke, Egerton completed his dress, and came to the hearth, -standing there, erect and dignified as usual, still far handsomer than -many a younger man, and with a form that seemed to have ample vigor to -support for many a year the sad and glorious burthen of power. - -"So now to your business, Harley." - -"In the first place, I want you to present me, at the first opportunity, -to Madame di Negra. You say she wished to know me." - -"Are you serious?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, then, she receives this evening. I did not mean to go; but when -my party breaks up--" - -"You can call for me at 'The Travelers.' Do!" - -"Next--you knew Lady Jane Horton better even than I did, at least in the -last year of her life." Harley sighed, and Egerton turned and stirred -the fire. - -"Pray, did you ever see at her house, or hear her speak of, a Mrs. -Bertram?" - -"Of whom?" said Egerton, in a hollow voice, his face still turned toward -the fire. - -"A Mrs. Bertram; but Heavens! my dear fellow, what is the matter? Are -you ill?" - -"A spasm at the heart--that is all--don't ring--I shall be better -presently--go on talking. Mrs.----; why do you ask?" - -"Why? I have hardly time to explain; but I am, as I told you, resolved -on righting my old Italian friend, if Heaven will help me, as it ever -does help the just when they bestir themselves; and this Mrs. Bertram is -mixed up in my friend's affairs." - -"His! How is that possible?" - -Harley rapidly and succinctly explained. Audley listened attentively, -with his eyes fixed on the floor, and still seeming to labor under great -difficulty of breathing. - -At last he answered, "I remember something of this Mrs.--Mrs.--Bertram. -But your inquiries after her would be useless. I think I have heard that -she is long since dead; nay, I am sure of it." - -"Dead!--that is most unfortunate. But do you know any of her relations -or friends? Can you suggest any mode of tracing this packet, if it came -to her hands?" - -"No." - -"And Lady Jane had scarcely any friend that I remember, except my -mother, and she knows nothing of this Mrs. Bertram. How unlucky! I think -I shall advertise. Yet, no. I could only distinguish this Mrs. Bertram -from any other of the same name, by stating with whom she had gone -abroad, and that would catch the attention of Peschiera, and set him to -counterwork us." - -"And what avails it?" said Egerton. "She whom you seek is no more--no -more!" He paused, and went on rapidly--"The packet did not arrive in -England till years after her death--was no doubt returned to the -post-office--is destroyed long ago." - -Harley looked very much disappointed. Egerton went on in a sort of set -mechanical voice, as if not thinking of what he said, but speaking from -the dry practical mode of reasoning which was habitual to him, and by -which the man of the world destroys the hopes of an enthusiast. Then -starting up at the sound of the first thundering knock at the street -door, he said, "Hark! you must excuse me." - -"I leave you, my dear Audley. Are you better now?" - -"Much, much--quite well. I will call for you--probably between eleven -and twelve." - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -If any one could be more surprised at seeing Lord L'Estrange at the -house of Madame di Negra that evening than the fair hostess herself, it -was Randal Leslie. Something instinctively told him that this visit -threatened interference with whatever might be his ultimate projects in -regard to Riccabocca and Violante. But Randal Leslie was not one of -those who shrink from an intellectual combat. On the contrary, he was -too confident of his powers of intrigue, not to take a delight in their -exercise. He could not conceive that the indolent Harley could be a -match for his own restless activity and dogged perseverance. But in a -very few moments fear crept on him. No man of his day could produce a -more brilliant effect than Lord L'Estrange, when he deigned to desire -it. Without much pretense to that personal beauty which strikes at first -sight, he still retained all the charm of countenance, and all the grace -of manner which had made him in boyhood the spoiled darling of society. -Madame di Negra had collected but a small circle round her, still it was -of the _élite_ of the great world; not, indeed, those more precise and -reserved _dames du château_, whom the lighter and easier of the fair -dispensers of fashion ridicule as prudes; but, nevertheless, ladies were -there, as umblemished in reputation as high in rank; flirts and -coquettes, perhaps--nothing more; in short, "charming women"--the gay -butterflies that hover over the stiff parterre. And there were -embassadors and ministers, and wits and brilliant debaters, and -first-rate dandies (dandies when first-rate, are generally very -agreeable men). Among all these various persons, Harley, so long a -stranger to the London world, seemed to make himself at home with the -ease of an Alcibiades. Many of the less juvenile ladies remembered him, -and rushed to claim his acquaintance, with nods, and becks, and wreathed -smiles. He had ready compliment for each. And few indeed, were there, -men or women, for whom Harley L'Estrange had not appropriate attraction. -Distinguished reputation as soldier and scholar, for the grave; whim and -pleasantry for the gay; novelty for the sated; and for the more vulgar -natures, was he not Lord L'Estrange, unmarried, heir to an ancient -earldom, and some fifty thousand a year? - -Not till he had succeeded in the general effect--which, it must be -owned, he did his best to create--did Harley seriously and especially -devote himself to his hostess. And then he seated himself by her side; -and as if in compliment to both, less pressing admirers insensibly -slipped away and edged off. - -Frank Hazledean was the last to quit his ground behind Madame di -Negra's chair; but when he found that the two began to talk in Italian, -and he could not understand a word they said, he too--fancying, poor -fellow, that he looked foolish, and cursing his Eton education that had -neglected, for languages spoken by the dead, of which he had learned -little, those still in use among the living, of which he had learned -naught--retreated toward Randal, and asked wistfully, "Pray, what age -should you say L'Estrange was? He must be devilish old, in spite of his -looks. Why, he was at Waterloo!" - -"He is young enough to be a terrible rival," answered Randal, with -artful truth. - -Frank turned pale, and began to meditate dreadful bloodthirsty thoughts, -of which hair-triggers and Lord's Cricket-ground formed the staple. - -Certainly there was apparent ground for a lover's jealousy. For Harley -and Beatrice now conversed in a low tone, and Beatrice seemed agitated, -and Harley earnest. Randal himself grew more and more perplexed. Was -Lord L'Estrange really enamored of the Marchesa? If so, farewell to all -hopes of Frank's marriage with her! Or was he merely playing a part in -Riccabocca's interest; pretending to be the lover, in order to obtain an -influence over her mind, rule her through her ambition, and secure an -ally against her brother? Was this _finesse_ compatible with Randal's -notions of Harley's character? Was it consistent with that chivalric and -soldierly spirit of honor which the frank nobleman affected, to make -love to a woman in mere _ruse de guerre_? Could mere friendship for -Riccabocca be a sufficient inducement to a man, who, whatever his -weaknesses or his errors, seemed to wear on his very forehead a soul -above deceit, to stoop to paltry means, even for a worthy end? At this -question, a new thought flashed upon Randal--might not Lord L'Estrange -have speculated himself upon winning Violante?--would not that account -for all the exertions he had made on behalf of her inheritance at the -court of Vienna--exertions of which Peschiera and Beatrice had both -complained? Those objections which the Austrian government might take to -Violante's marriage with some obscure Englishman would probably not -exist against a man like Harley L'Estrange, whose family not only -belonged to the highest aristocracy of England, but had always supported -opinions in vogue among the leading governments of Europe. Harley -himself, it is true, had never taken part in politics, but his notions -were, no doubt, those of a high-born soldier, who had fought, in -alliance with Austria, for the restoration of the Bourbons. And this -immense wealth--which Violante might lose if she married one like Randal -himself--her marriage with the heir of the Lansmeres might actually tend -only to secure. Could Harley, with all his own expectations, be -indifferent to such a prize?--and no doubt he had learned Violante's -rare beauty in his correspondence with Riccabocca. - -Thus considered, it seemed natural to Randal's estimate of human -nature, that Harley's more prudish scruples of honor, as regards what is -due to women, could not resist a temptation so strong. Mere friendship -was not a motive powerful enough to shake them, but ambition was. - -While Randal was thus cogitating, Frank thus suffering, and many a -whisper, in comment on the evident flirtation between the beautiful -hostess and the accomplished guest, reached the ears both of the -brooding schemer and the jealous lover, the conversation between the two -objects of remark and gossip had taken a new turn. Indeed, Beatrice had -made an effort to change it. - -"It is long, my lord," said she, still speaking Italian, "since I have -heard sentiments like those you address to me; and if I do not feel -myself wholly unworthy of them, it is from the pleasure I have felt in -reading sentiments equally foreign to the language of the world in which -I live." She took a book from the table as she spoke: "Have you seen -this work?" - -Harley glanced at the title-page. "To be sure I have, and I know the -author." - -"I envy you that honor. I should so like also to know one who has -discovered to me deeps in my own heart which I had never explored." - -"Charming Marchesa, if the book has done this, believe me that I have -paid you no false compliment--formed no overflattering estimate of your -nature; for the charm of the work is but in its simple appeal to good -and generous emotions, and it can charm none in whom those emotions -exist not!" - -"Nay, that can not be true, or why is it so popular?" - -"Because good and generous emotions are more common to the human heart -than we are aware of till the appeal comes." - -"Don't ask me to think that! I have found the world so base." - -"Pardon me a rude question; but what do you know of the world?" - -Beatrice looked first in surprise at Harley, then glanced round the room -with significant irony. - -"As I thought; you call this little room 'the world.' Be it so. I will -venture to say, that if the people in this room were suddenly converted -into an audience before a stage, and you were as consummate in the -actor's art as you are in all others that please and command--" - -"Well?" - -"And were to deliver a speech full of sordid and base sentiments, you -would be hissed. But let any other woman, with half your powers, arise -and utter sentiments sweet and womanly, or honest and lofty--and -applause would flow from every lip, and tears rush to many a worldly -eye. The true proof of the inherent nobleness of our common nature is in -the sympathy it betrays with what is noble wherever crowds are -collected. Never believe the world is base;--if it were so, no society -could hold together for a day. But you would know the author of this -book? I will bring him to you." - -"Do." - -"And now," said Harley, rising, and with his candid winning smile, "do -you think we shall ever be friends?" - -"You have startled me so, that I can scarcely answer. But why would you -be friends with me?" - -"Because you need a friend. You have none." - -"Strange flatterer!" said Beatrice, smiling, though very sadly; and, -looking up, her eye caught Randal's. - -"Pooh!" said Harley, "you are too penetrating to believe that you -inspire friendship _there_. Ah, do you suppose that, all the while I -have been conversing with you, I have not noticed the watchful gaze of -Mr. Randal Leslie? What tie can possibly connect you together I know not -yet; but I soon shall." - -"Indeed! you talk like one of the old Council of Venice. You try hard to -make me fear you," said Beatrice, seeking to escape from the graver kind -of impression Harley had made on her, by the affectation, partly of -coquetry, partly of levity. - -"And I," said L'Estrange, calmly, "tell you already, that I fear you no -more." He bowed, and passed through the crowd to rejoin Audley, who was -seated in a corner, whispering with some of his political colleagues. -Before Harley reached the minister, he found himself close to Randal and -young Hazeldean. - -He bowed to the first, and extended his hand to the last. Randal felt -the distinction, and his sullen, bitter pride was deeply galled--a -feeling of hate toward Harley passed into his mind. He was pleased to -see the cold hesitation with which Frank just touched the hand offered -to him. But Randal had not been the only person whose watch upon -Beatrice the keen-eyed Harley had noticed. Harley had seen the angry -looks of Frank Hazeldean, and divined the cause. So he smiled -forgivingly at the slight he had received. - -"You are like me, Mr. Hazeldean," said he. "You think something of the -heart should go with all courtesy that bespeaks friendship-- - - "The hand of Douglas is his own." - -Here Harley drew aside Randal. "Mr. Leslie, a word with you. If I wished -to know the retreat of Dr. Riccabocca, in order to render him a great -service, would you confide to me that secret?" - -"That woman has let out her suspicions that I know the exile's retreat," -thought Randal; and with rare presence of mind, he replied at once: - -"My Lord, yonder stands a connection of Dr. Riccabocca's. Mr. Hazeldean -is surely the person to whom you should address this inquiry." - -"Not so, Mr. Leslie; for I suspect that he can not answer it, and that -you can. Well, I will ask something that it seems to me you may grant -without hesitation. Should you see Dr. Riccabocca, tell him that I am in -England, and so leave it to him to communicate with me or not; but -perhaps you have already done so?" - -"Lord L'Estrange," said Randal, bowing low, with pointed formality, -"excuse me if I decline either to disclaim or acquiesce in the knowledge -you impute to me. If I am acquainted with any secret intrusted to me by -Dr. Riccabocca, it is for me to use my own discretion how best to guard -it. And for the rest, after the Scotch earl, whose words your lordship -has quoted, refused to touch the hand of Marmion, Douglas could scarcely -have called him back in order to give him--a message!" - -Harley was not prepared for this tone in Mr Egerton's _protégé_, and his -own gallant nature was rather pleased than irritated by a haughtiness -that at least seemed to bespeak independence of spirit. Nevertheless, -L'Estrange's suspicions of Randal were too strong to be easily set -aside, and therefore he replied, civilly, but with covert taunt: - -"I submit to your rebuke, Mr. Leslie, though I meant not the offense you -would ascribe to me. I regret my unlucky quotation yet the more, -since the wit of your retort has obliged you to identify yourself -with Marmion, who, though a clever and brave fellow, was an -uncommonly--tricky one." And so Harley, certainly having the best of it, -moved on, and joining Egerton, in a few minutes more both left the room. - -"What was L'Estrange saying to you?" asked Frank. "Something about -Beatrice, I am sure." - -"No; only quoting poetry." - -"Then what made you look so angry, my dear fellow? I know it was your -kind feeling for me. As you say, he is a formidable rival. But that -can't be his own hair. Do you think he wears a _toupet_? I am sure he -was praising Beatrice. He is evidently very much smitten with her. But I -don't think she is a woman to be caught by _mere_ rank and fortune! Do -you? Why can't you speak?" - -"If you do not get her consent soon, I think she is lost to you," said -Randal, slowly; and, before Frank could recover his dismay, glided from -the house. - - -CHAPTER IX. - -Violante's first evening at the Lansmeres, had seemed happier to her -than the first evening, under the same roof, had done to Helen. True -that she missed her father much--Jemima some what; but she so identified -her father's cause with Harley, that she had a sort of vague feeling -that it was to promote that cause that she was on this visit to Harley's -parents. And the Countess, it must be owned, was more emphatically -cordial to her than she had ever yet been to Captain Digby's orphan. But -perhaps the real difference in the heart of either girl was this, that -Helen felt awe of Lady Lansmere, and Violante felt only love for Lord -L'Estrange's mother. Violante, too, was one of those persons whom a -reserved and formal person, like the Countess, "can get on with," as the -phrase goes. Not so poor little Helen--so shy herself, and so hard to -coax into more than gentle monosyllables. And Lady Lansmere's favorite -talk was always of Harley. Helen had listened to such talk with respect -and interest. Violante listened to it with inquisitive eagerness--with -blushing delight. The mother's heart noticed the distinction between the -two, and no wonder that that heart moved more to Violante than to Helen. -Lord Lansmere, too, like most gentlemen of his age, clumped all young -ladies together, as a harmless, amiable, but singularly stupid class of -the genus Petticoat, meant to look pretty, play the piano, and talk to -each other about frocks and sweethearts. Therefore this animated, -dazzling creature, with her infinite variety of look and play of mind, -took him by surprise, charmed him into attention, and warmed him into -gallantry. Helen sat in her quiet corner, at her work, sometimes -listening with almost mournful, though certainly unenvious admiration at -Violante's vivid, yet ever unconscious eloquence of word and -thought--sometimes plunged deep into her own secret meditations. And all -the while the work went on the same, under the same noiseless fingers. -This was one of Helen's habits that irritated the nerves of Lady -Lansmere. She despised young ladies who were fond of work. She did not -comprehend how often it is the source of the sweet, womanly mind, not -from want of thought, but from the silence and the depth of it. Violante -was surprised, and perhaps disappointed, that Harley had left the house -before dinner, and did not return all the evening. But Lady Lansmere, in -making excuse for his absence, on the plea of engagements, found so good -an opportunity to talk of his ways in general--of his rare promise in -boyhood--of her regret at the inaction of his maturity--of her hope to -see him yet do justice to his natural powers, that Violante almost -ceased to miss him. - -And when Lady Lansmere conducted her to her room, and, kissing her cheek -tenderly, said, "But you are just the person Harley admires--just the -person to rouse him from melancholy dreams, of which his wild humors are -now but the vain disguise"--Violante crossed her arms on her bosom, and -her bright eyes, deepened into tenderness, seemed to ask, "He -melancholy--and why?" - -On leaving Violante's room, Lady Lansmere paused before the door of -Helen's; and, after musing a little while, entered softly. - -Helen had dismissed her maid; and, at the moment Lady Lansmere entered, -she was kneeling at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped before her -face. - -Her form, thus seen, looked so youthful and child-like--the attitude -itself was so holy and so touching, that the proud and cold expression -on Lady Lansmere's face changed. She shaded the light involuntarily, and -seated herself in silence, that she might not disturb the act of prayer. - -When Helen rose, she was startled to see the Countess seated by the -fire; and hastily drew her hand across her eyes. She had been weeping. - -Lady Lansmere did not, however, turn to observe those traces of tears, -which Helen feared were too visible. The Countess was too absorbed in -her own thoughts; and as Helen timidly approached, she said--still with -her eyes on the clear low fire--"I beg your pardon, Miss Digby, for my -intrusion; but my son has left it to me to prepare Lord Lansmere to -learn the offer you have done Harley the honor to accept. I have not yet -spoken to my lord; it may be days before I find a fitting occasion to do -so; meanwhile, I feel assured that your sense of propriety will make you -agree with me that it is due to Lord L'Estrange's father, that strangers -should not learn arrangements of such moment in his family, before his -own consent be obtained." - -Here the Countess came to a full pause; and poor Helen, finding herself -called upon for some reply to this chilling speech, stammered out, -scarce audibly-- - -"Certainly, madam, I never dreamed of--" - -"That is right, my dear," interrupted Lady Lansmere, rising suddenly, -and as if greatly relieved. "I could not doubt your superiority to -ordinary girls of your age, with whom these matters are never secret for -a moment. Therefore, of course, you will not mention, at present, what -has passed between you and Harley, to any of the friends with whom you -may correspond." - -"I have no correspondents--no friends, Lady Lansmere," said Helen -deprecatingly, and trying hard not to cry. - -"I am very glad to hear it, my dear; young ladies never should have. -Friends, especially friends who correspond, are the worst enemies they -can have. Good-night, Miss Digby, I need not add, by the way, that, -though we are bound to show all kindness to this young Italian lady, -still she is wholly unconnected with our family; and you will be as -prudent with her as you would have been with your correspondents--had -you had the misfortune to have any." - -Lady Lansmere said the last words with a smile, and pressed a reluctant -kiss (the step-mother's kiss) on Helen's bended brow. She then left the -room, and Helen sate on the seat vacated by the stately, unloving form, -and again covered her face with her hands, and again wept. But when she -rose at last, and the light fell upon her face, that soft face was sad -indeed, but serene--serene, as if with some inward sense of duty--sad, -as with the resignation which accepts patience instead of hope. - - (TO BE CONTINUED.) - - - - -PIPE-CLAY AND CLAY PIPES. - - -I have an eccentric friend, whom I meet occasionally. He can not be said -to have an inquiring turn of mind, or usually to busy himself with the -science of industrial economy. Babbage is an unknown writer to him; and -he has not yet contrived to "get up" any interest in the recent Reports -on Her Majesty's Customs. In fact, I should not be surprised if he never -opened the interesting volumes in question. He is a man with an active -mind, nevertheless; but this activity is expended, as a rule, in -eccentric pursuits. He has one confirmed antipathy--he hates a purpose. -Since he heard that I had written a paper on the wrongs of factory -children, he has treated me with marked coolness. Yet he is a man with -an excellent heart. Let me at once give the key to his character. Most -people have one serious object in life, therefore he is opposed to all -serious objects. Lately, I met him walking briskly on his way homeward, -and I consented to accompany him. Suddenly, he remembered that he must -make a call before he entered his chambers. - -This call led us out of a great thoroughfare, through two or three -narrow and dark streets, to the door of a dingy house. As we paused on -the threshold, my companion asked me if I had ever seen a tobacco-pipe -manufactory. I expressed my inexperience; and, having been cautioned -against sermons on what I was about to see, followed my eccentric friend -down a dark passage, which terminated in a very dirty and a very dark -warehouse. A few samples of tobacco-pipes lay upon a counter, and one -side of the warehouse was skirted with drawers full of "yards of -clay"--my eccentric friend's ordinary expression when alluding to his -pipes. In a dark corner, a strong man was savagely punching huge blocks -of clay with a heavy wooden bar; in another corner lay a huge pile of -clay-blocks in the rough state--apparently a heap of dirt, of little use -to any body. A mild woman--the wife of the manufacturer--showed us about -with a cheerful manner. My friend, who took an evident interest in all -the processes we witnessed, still contrived to maintain his eccentric -habit, by continually expressing his unconcern. As we looked at the -skillful action of the workmen's fingers, my friend allowed that they -played the fiddle well, but added that they could _only_ play the -fiddle. However, I left him to pursue his eccentric way, and wandered -about with unfeigned curiosity. - -Turning from the muscular fellow who was beating the rough clay with the -wooden bar, and moistening it, that it might yield to the pressure of -the mould, I suddenly saw a black gaping mouth before me, that seemed to -be in the agony of swallowing a dense stack of tobacco-pipes; this, I -learned, was the pipe-kiln. The pipes were arranged in exact rows, and -in vast quantities. I ventured to express my astonishment at the number -of pipes in the capacious kiln; whereupon the clay-beater paused from -his labor, and, with a smile that expressed pity for my ignorance, -declared that there was a mere handful on the premises. - -"There are a few still, up there," he added, pointing to the roof of the -warehouse. - -I followed the direction of his finger, and saw above me a roof of -tobacco-pipes piled in regular rows on brackets. The number appeared -incalculable, but the clay-beater contemptuously pronounced it -insignificant. He informed me that I might see "a few more," if I would -have the goodness to go up stairs. My eccentric friend vowed that the -trouble was excessive--that our business was with the pipes when they -had tobacco in them; and not with the people who made them; and, as he -remarked (having had a sharp pecuniary altercation with the -manufacturer's wife), who took particular care to charge a remunerative -price for them. But he mounted the stairs, in spite of his objections, -and followed me into the room where the battered clay of the beater -below was undergoing other processes. Here and there men seemed to be -printing off pipes--the action of their arms, and the movement of their -presses nearly resembling those of hand-printing. A pale woman sat in -the centre of the room with a counter before her, and two or three -delicate tools; but we went past her at once to the man who had a mound -of soft gray clay before him. He was working briskly. He first seized -two lumps of clay, each of the average size of an apple, and having -carelessly kneaded them with his fingers, seemed to throw them -contemptuously upon the board before him. Then, with the palms of his -hand he rolled them sharply out on the board, leaving one end of each -lump very thick, and producing, altogether, two clay tadpoles of a large -size. These he took up, and placed with others in a row, all pressed and -sticking together. The apparent unconcern and indifference with which -the entire operation was performed struck us particularly. When we had -sufficiently noticed the manufacture of gigantic tadpoles, we crossed -the room to an opposite bench where a man was working rapidly. Here we -found a confused heap of clay tadpoles, ready to be run through and -burnt into seemly pipes. - -We watched the operations of the second skilled laborer with intense -interest. First, with a weary air he took up a bundle of limp clay -tadpoles, and threw them down close beside him. He then took a fine -steel rod in his left hand, and seizing a tadpole, drew its long slender -tail on to the rod. This operation was so dexterously performed, that -the rod never protruded the least to the right or to the left, but was -kept, by the fine touch of the right-hand fingers, exactly in the centre -of the tube. The spitted tadpole was then laid flat in the lower half of -the metal pipe mould; the upper part was pulled down over it, and then -pressed. On lifting the mould from the press, the workman quickly cut -away the superfluous clay that stood up beyond the bowl, opened the -mould, and disclosed, to the undisguised admiration even of my eccentric -friend, the graceful flow of his usual "yard of clay." But it was not -yet ready for smoking; very far from it. - -It was still a damp, leaden gray pipe, with two broad seams of clay -projecting from it, throughout its entire length. It was ragged too. On -these deficiencies my friend began to offer a few pungent remarks; when -the workman interrupted him by pointing toward an industrious woman, who -seemed to be in a desperate hurry; yet she was not at all excited. My -friend suggested that steam must be circulating in her nimble fingers, -instead of blood. She smiled at the pleasantry; and said meekly enough, -that it was custom. She was as clumsy as I should be when she began--but -long, long days of experience--there, sitting before that board, and -cutting incessantly those seams that curl so neatly off the rough -pipes, give that dexterity, and it is well, perhaps severely, paid for. -The work-woman wears a serious, dull face generally. It struck me, as I -watched the repetition of her movements, that in their dreadful monotony -there must be a deadening influence upon the mind and heart. I even -thought that she must find it a relief now and then to break a pipe, or -drop one of the glistening steel rods. First, she took up one of the -rough pipes, and with a sharp steel instrument, smoothed all the rough -clay about the bowl. Then she smoothed the stem with a flat -instrument--then she cut the mouthpiece even. Having thus rapidly -traveled over the moulder's work, she withdrew the fine steel rod from -the tube, blew down the pipe to assure herself that the air passed from -the bowl to the mouth-piece, and then carefully added it to a row, -placed upon a frame beside her. The finished pipe was hardly deposited -in its place before another was in her hands, and in rapid process -toward completion. - -A roaring fire crackled in the grate, and the heat of the atmosphere was -oppressive. Above were more endless rows and galleries of pipes; waiting -to be baked, and in a fair way, I thought, of undergoing that process -where they lay. I could hear the dull, heavy sounds of the clay-beater's -weapon below, and in the rooms the incessant click of the closing -moulds. The workmen were proud to show their dexterity, as they well -might be. Our friend in the farther corner, as he talked pleasantly to -us on various subjects, still carelessly made his clay tadpoles; the -woman never paused from her rapid work when she exchanged occasional -sentences with a boy who stood near her; and the wife of the -manufacturer surveyed the busy scene with sparkling eyes. - -I thought once or twice of the damp clay streaming about these -workpeople; and of the hard, stern work going on to provide receptacles -for lazy men's tobacco. Pipe-clay seemed to force itself every where; -about the rafters, on the benches, on the floor, in the walls. My -friend's curiosity was soon satisfied: for his anxiety to avoid contact -with the raw material of his favorite manufactured article, drove every -other consideration from his mind. He vowed that he did not wish to -appear in the streets of London in the guise of a miller--that, -generally, he preferred a black coat to a piebald one, and that not -being a military man, the less pipe-clay he took away in the nap of his -clothes, the better. But I had one or two questions to put to the -tadpole-maker--not with the view, as my friend stoutly asserted, of -writing a sermon, but perhaps with an object sufficiently laudable. I -learned that a workman, "keeping to it" twelve hours, can make "four -gross and a half" of pipes per day. - -My friend was struck with this astonishing fact; and, forthwith, began -to prove from this assertion that he ought to have the half-gross he -wanted at a very low price indeed. It was only when the workman paused, -for the first time, from his work to discuss the beauties of various -pipes, that my friend felt himself quite at home in the manufactory. -Hereupon, the workman placed a variety of pipes in juxtaposition, and -began to talk of their relative excellences and beauties with the tact -of an artist. This man was not without a shrewd sense of art; he had his -ideal of a tobacco-pipe, as the political dreamer has his ideal of a -model state, or a sculptor of his ideal beauty. He had shrewd, -unanswerable reasons for a certain roundness in the bowl; his eye -wandered critically down the graceful bend of the tube, and his hand -tested nicely the finish of the surface. His skill lay, certainly, only -in the manufacture of tobacco-pipes; but, still, herein his mind was -active, and his taste was cultivated. - -"What would become of you if smoking were put down by Act of -Parliament?" my friend asked, with a sarcastic air. But the man was a -match even for the practiced eccentricity of my companion. - -"Why, sir," said the man, "most likely more snuff would be consumed -instead, and I should shut up the kiln, and take to making snuffboxes." - -My friend was silenced; and, as we walked away from the manufactory, -down the dark, narrow streets, he allowed, in a whisper, that there was -wisdom in the pipemaker's answer. And then he began to make calculations -as to how many people flourish in every country on the bad habits and -vices of their fellow-citizens. He wove a chain of terrible length, to -show how many men were interested in the drunkenness of the country. A -man reeled past us in the imbecile, singing stage of the vice. "That -man," said my eccentric friend, "has done the state some service -to-night. He has been helping to swell the Excise returns; presently, he -will create a disturbance; a policeman will gallantly walk him off to -the station-house, and be promoted; his hat will be broken, to the great -advantage of a hatter; his shirt front will be torn, to the benefit of -some poor, lone sempstress; and there, he has broken his yard of clay, -to the advantage of the manufactory we have just left. Delirium tremens -will come at last; and with it a surgeon; and, with the surgeon, herbs -which are now growing under the burning heat of Indian skies." Thus my -eccentric friend ran on, and I did not interrupt him; for, in his words, -I detected sparks of light that led us merrily forward to our journey's -end, where we found half-a-gross of "yards of clay;" "a perfect -picture," according to my friend--lying, all white as snow before us, -trimmed, I knew, by the serious, nimble-fingered woman we had seen at -her work. And she is at it now, still cutting the seams off, and blowing -down the tubes! - - - - -HABITS AND CHARACTER OF THE DOG-RIB INDIANS.[7] - - -[Footnote 7: From Sir John Richardson's Arctic "Searching Expedition," -just published by Harper and Brothers.] - -Few traces of the stoicism popularly attributed to the red races exist -among the Dog ribs; they shrink from pain, show little daring, express -their fears without disguise on all occasions, imaginary or real, shed -tears readily, and live in constant dread of enemies, bodied and -disembodied. Yet all, young and old, enjoy a joke heartily. They are not -a morose people, but, on the contrary, when young and in a situation of -security, they are remarkably lively and cheerful. The infirmities of -age, which press heavily on the savage, render them querulous. They are -fond of dancing, but their dance, which is performed in a circle, is -without the least pretensions to grace, and is carried on laboriously -with the knees and body half bent and a heavy stamping, having the -effect of causing the dancers to appear as if they were desirous of -sinking into the ground. It is accompanied by a song resembling a chorus -of groans, or pretty nearly the deep sigh of a pavier as he brings his -rammer down upon the pavement. They are great mimics, and readily ape -the peculiarities of any white man; and many of the young men have -caught the tunes of the Canadian voyagers, and hum them correctly. - -The Dog-ribs are practical socialists; and, as much of the misery they -occasionally experience may be traced to this cause, the study of the -working of such a system may be instructive in a community like this, -whose members owe their condition in the social scale solely to their -personal qualities, and not to inheritance, favor, or the other -accidents which complicate the results in civilized life. Custom has -established among them a practice universally acted upon--that all may -avail themselves of the produce of a hunter's energy and skill; and they -do not even leave to him the distribution of his own game. When it is -known in the camp that deer have been killed, the old men and women of -each family sally forth with their sledges, and, tracing up the hunter's -footsteps to the carcasses of the animals he has slain, proceed to -divide them among themselves, leaving to the proper owner the ribs, -which is all that he can claim to himself of right. He has also the -tongue, which he takes care to cut out on killing the deer. It is not in -the power of these people to restrain their appetites when they have -abundance; and the consequence is, that when the chase is successful, -all the community feast and grow fat, however little many of the -men--and there are not a few idle ones--may have contributed to the -common good. The hunter's wife dries the rib-pieces, after cutting out -the bone, in the smoke, or over a fire, to carry to a fort for the -purposes of trade; but, unless there is a superabundance, little -provision is made by the party for a time of scarcity, which is sure to -arrive before long; since the deer, when much hunted, move to some other -district. Taught by their frequent sufferings on such occasions, the -more active hunters frequently withdraw themselves and their families -from the knowledge of the drones of the community, leaving them at some -fishing station, where, with proper industry, they may subsist -comfortably. A fish diet is not, however, agreeable to the palates of -these people for any length of time; and, as soon as rumors of a -hunter's success reach them--which they do generally much exaggerated by -the way--a longing for the flesh-pots is instantly excited, especially -among the old, and a general movement to the hunting-ground ensues. If, -on their march, the craving multitude discover a hoard of meat stored up -by any of the hunting parties, it is devoured on the spot; but they are -not always so fortunate. Before they reach the scene of anticipated -abundance, the deer may have gone off, followed by the hunters, with -uncertain hopes of overtaking them, and nothing remains for the hungry -throng, including the old and the lame, but to retrace their steps, with -the prospect of many of them perishing by the way, should their stock of -food have been quite exhausted. Such occurrences are by no means rare; -they came several times under our immediate notice during our winter -residence at Fort Confidence, and similar facts are recorded by Mr. -Simpson of the same tribe. This gentleman expresses his opinion that the -charge made against this nation, of abandoning their infirm aged people -and children, had its origin in the _sauve qui peut_ cry raised during a -forced retreat from some one of these most injudicious excursions; and I -am inclined fully to agree with him; for I witnessed several -unquestionable instances of tenderness and affection shown by children -to their parents, and of compliance with their whims, much to their own -personal inconvenience. The grief they show on the loss of a parent, is -often great and of long continuance, and it is the custom, both for men -and women, to lament the death of relations for years, by nightly -wailings. - -Hospitality is not a virtue which is conspicuous among the Dog-ribs, who -differ in this respect from the Eythinyuwuk, in whose encampments a -stranger meets a welcome and a proffer of food. It is not customary, -however, for the Dog-rib to receive the traveler who enters his tent -with the same show of kindness. If he is hungry, and meat hangs up, he -may help himself without eliciting a remark, for the 'Tinnè hold it to -be mean to say much about a piece of meat; or he may exert his patience -until some cookery goes on, and then join in the meal; and should there -be venison at hand, he will not have long to wait, for every now and -then some one is prompted to hang a kettle on the fire, or to place a -joint or steak to roast before it. - -Of the peculiarities of their religious belief I could gain no certain -information. The interpreters to whom I applied for assistance disliked -the task, and invariably replied, "As for these savages, they know -nothing; they are ignorant people." The majority of the nation recognize -a "Great Spirit," at least by name, but some doubt his existence, -assigning, as a reason for their atheism, their miserable condition; or -they say, "If there be such a being, he dwells on the lands of the white -people, where so many useful and valuable articles are produced." With -respect to evil spirits, their name in the Dog-rib country is legion. -The 'Tinnè recognize them in the Bear, Wolf, and Wolverene, in the -woods, waters, and desert places; often hear them howling in the winds, -or moaning by the graves of the dead. Their dread of these disembodied -beings, of whom they spoke to us under the general name of "enemies," is -such that few of the hunters will sleep out alone. They never make any -offerings to the Great Spirit, or pay him an act of adoration; but they -deprecate the wrath of an evil being by prayer, and the sacrifice of -some article, generally of little value, perhaps simply by scattering a -handful of deer hair or a few feathers. - - - - -MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS. - - -THE UNITED STATES. - -In Congress, during the past month, there has been copious discussion of -a great variety of subjects, but no important action upon any. The -influence of the approaching Presidential election makes itself felt -upon the debates of Congress, coloring every speech and often -superseding every other subject. Memorials have been presented in favor -of authorizing another Arctic expedition in search of Sir John Franklin, -for which Mr. Henry Grinnell again tenders the use of his ships--asking -only that the government will send a small steamer with them and men for -officers and sailors. Commander Wilkes has also addressed Congress on -the subject; proposing a very large Expedition--sufficient indeed to -establish a permanent settlement in the Arctic regions, from which the -search may be prosecuted. Nothing has been done with regard to -either.----Governor Kossuth has addressed to Congress a letter of thanks -for the reception given him, which was presented in the Senate on the -17th of February, and gave rise to a long debate on the proposition to -print it: it was ordered to be printed by 21 votes to 20 against -it.----In the Senate a bill has been reported by Commitee to establish a -branch mint in the city of New York, on condition that the city donate -land for a site and the State exempt it from taxation.----A good deal of -the attention of the Senate has been devoted to a debate upon the Public -Land policy of the country, the question coming up on a bill granting -large tracts of land to Iowa to aid in the construction of certain -railroads. Mr. Sumner, of Massachusetts, spoke in favor of ceding all -the public lands to the States in which they lie, mainly on the ground -that the exemption of those lands from State taxation had created in -those States an equitable title to them. On the 24th of February Mr. -Geyer, of Missouri, spoke in favor of the same policy, basing his -argument in its support upon the same facts. Mr. Underwood offered an -amendment to the effect of distributing among the seventeen States in -which there are no public lands, fifteen millions of acres. He -spoke in defense of it at length. No vote has been taken upon the -subject.----Further debate has been had upon the resolutions on the -subject of non-intervention. On the 26th of February, Mr. Miller, of New -Jersey, spoke against the policy of intermeddling at all in the affairs -of foreign nations. He represented intervention in foreigns affairs as -the habitual policy of European monarchies, which Washington had -resisted; and he urged the duty and necessity of adhering strictly to -the ground of neutrality which was adopted during the early history of -this country. The subject was then postponed until the 9th of March, -when Mr. Seward of New York, spoke upon it. He urged the absolute -independence of every State, and the duty of all States to recognize and -respect it. He entered upon a historical review of the connection of -Hungary and Austria to show that Hungary was fully entitled to this -right, and that it had been grossly violated when her freedom and -constitution were destroyed by the armed intervention of Russia. He then -urged that the United States, although recognizing the existing rule in -Hungary from motives of political necessity, can not be indifferent to -such usurpation, and may lawfully protest against it, and especially -against any new intervention should it be intended by Russia. He -referred to the diplomatic history of the United States to show that -this principle has always been recognized and practiced by them, and -insisted that there was no reason why it should now be abandoned. Upon -the conclusion of his speech the subject was postponed for a week.----A -debate of personal rather than general interest occurred in the Senate -on the 27th and 28th of February, between Mr. Rhett of South Carolina -and Mr. Clemens of Alabama. The former read a very long paper which he -had prepared to expose the political inconsistencies of Mr. Clemens, and -in which he used strong language in characterizing his course. Mr. -Clemens replied with passionate warmth and with increased vituperation -Their speeches have no general interest or importance.----In the _House -of Representatives_ discussion, although it has comprehended various -subjects, has grown mainly out of bills to appropriate public lands to -certain railroads in Missouri and Illinois. They have been debated with -a good deal of warmth, and almost every speaker has connected with them -the discussion of the Presidential question. In the course of the debate -a letter from Gen. William O. Butler, addressed to a personal friend, -was read, in which he declares his entire assent and approval of the -Compromise Measures of 1850. On the 1st of March, Mr. Fitch of Iowa -offered a resolution deprecating all further agitation of the questions -growing out of these measures as useless and dangerous: and a vote was -taken on a motion to suspend the rules so as to allow its introduction: -there were ayes 119, nays 74. As two-thirds were required to pass it, -the motion failed.----On the 20th of February a message was received -from the President, transmitting, in reply to a resolution of the House, -copies of the correspondence between the officers of the Mississippi and -the Government concerning Kossuth. It was quite voluminous, embracing -letters from other American functionaries as well as naval officers. -They show on the part of all of them a strong distrust of Kossuth's -plans and great dissatisfaction at the marks of respect paid to him at -the various ports on the Mediterranean, at which the Mississippi -touched. His returning thanks to the people at Marseilles who cheered -him, is especially censured. - -The month has been marked by several literary discourses of more than -common interest. At the anniversary meeting of the New York Historical -Society, held on the 23d of February, Hon. Daniel Webster read an -elaborate paper upon the dignity and importance of History, and making -sundry detailed criticisms upon the historical writings of ancient and -modern historians. He dwelt somewhat minutely upon all the great writers -of Greece and Rome, and passed more hastily over those of England. He -sketched the early history of the United States, dwelling especially -upon the proceedings of the first Congress after the Constitution, and -pronouncing a high eulogy upon the great men to whose hands the -legislation of that important era was intrusted. He closed by alluding -to the dangers which had recently menaced the Union and the -Constitution, and declared himself ready to co-operate with those of -every party who would rally in their defense. The discourse was heard -with marked attention by an immense and intelligent audience.----On the -evening of the 27th, a very large meeting was held in New York to -testify regard for the memory of the late J. Fenimore Cooper. The -occasion was distinguished by the attendance, as presiding officer, of -Mr. Webster, and by the presence of a great number of distinguished -literary gentlemen. Mr. Webster made a brief address, expressing his -cordial interest in the occasion, and the high respect which he -entertained for the writings of Cooper, as being preeminent for their -thorough American feeling and high moral tone, as well as great -intellectual ability. William Cullen Bryant delivered a commemorative -address, rehearsing Mr. Cooper's life, and making passing criticisms -upon his successive works.----On the evening of March 8th, Archbishop -Hughes read a Lecture on the Catholic Chapter in the History of the -United States, the leading purpose of which was to show that in this -country no religious denomination has any claim to supremacy--that it is -neither Protestant nor Catholic--but that the Constitution prohibits all -legislation upon the subject, and that all stand upon precisely the same -level.----A Whig State Convention was held in Kentucky, at Frankfort, on -the 24th of February. Hon. Chilton Allan presided. A series of -resolutions was adopted, pronouncing in favor of the Compromise measures -of 1850, and of the course pursued by the President of the United States -in securing the execution of the laws. They also declared in favor of -public appropriations for internal improvements, against granting the -public lands to the States in which they lie, and in favor of -maintaining strict neutrality in the affairs of all foreign nations. The -Convention declared its willingness to abide by the nomination of a Whig -National Convention, but presented President Fillmore to the -consideration of that body, as a "statesman of such approved prudence, -experience, firmness, and wisdom as to unite the entire Whig vote of -Kentucky."----A large public meeting was held in New York, on the 5th of -March, of those in favor of the nomination of Mr. Webster for the -Presidency, subject to the decision of a National Whig Convention. Mr. -George Griswold presided. An address was adopted rehearsing the public -history of Mr. Webster, and referring to his services to the country in -the various public offices which he has held.----A Whig State Convention -in Indiana adopted resolutions nominating General Scott for the -Presidency.----Washington's birth-day was celebrated at the National -Capital by a banquet, got up mainly by members of Congress. Senator -Stockton presided, and speeches were made by several gentlemen--mainly -directed against the policy of intermeddling to any degree or for any -purpose in the affairs of foreign nations. Mr Clay, whose illness -prevented his attendance, wrote a letter, saying that the serious -efforts made to subvert the policy of neutrality established by -Washington, called for energetic measures of resistance. The attempts -made to induce this country to plunge, by perilous proceedings and -insensible degrees, in the wars of Europe, rendered it proper to recall -attention to his principles by celebrating his birth-day. - -From CALIFORNIA we have intelligence to the 2d of February. Col. JOHN B. -WELLER (Democrat) has been elected United States Senator in place of -Col. Frémont. He was once candidate for Governor of Ohio and more -recently chief of the Mexican Boundary Commission.----Governor Bigler -has sent to the Legislature a special message, concerning the financial -affairs of the State, in which he urges upon the Legislature the early -adoption of measures to relieve the burden of the State's liabilities, -and exhibits the amount of her indebtedness. According to the -Controller's report, $1,000,000 still stands against the State from the -expenses of last year's military expeditions. The aggregate -indebtedness, civil and military, of the State, on the 31st December was -$2,242,339.74.----There had been no further disturbances from the -Indians, though further precautions against them had been taken by -sending troops into their neighborhood.----Hon. T. B. King has published -a letter recommending the relinquishment of the public lands to actual -settlers, and the confirmation by Congress of the rules established by -the miners themselves, defining the rights of those who may be employed -in the collection of gold, or who may invest capital in machinery for -the purpose of working the vein mines.----Intelligence from the mining -districts continues to be encouraging. The quartz mining companies are -generally doing well, though from defects in machinery some failures -have occurred. New discoveries continue to be made. - -From OREGON our advices are to Jan. 24. The Legislature and Judiciary -disagree about the seat of government, part of the members meeting in -the place fixed by judicial decision, and others refusing to concur in -the decision and meeting elsewhere. The dispute has been transferred to -the people, by the adjournment of the Assembly on the 21st of Jan. It is -canvassed with great warmth and earnestness.----Some doubts having -arisen as to the true boundary line between Oregon and California, the -Surveyor-general has been directed to make the necessary observations to -determine it. - -In the Territory of NEW MEXICO, from which we have news to Jan. 31st, -fresh Indian outrages have occurred. An escort of United States troops, -consisting of a sergeant and four men, was proceeding southward when -they were attacked by a band of Apaches in ambush, and four of the party -were killed; the other succeeded in making his escape. Four murders were -perpetrated also near Polvodera in the early part of January, and soon -after the Indians attacked a party of nine persons of whom they killed -five. The scene of these outrages is the desert region called the -Jornada, lying on the route from Santa Fé to Chihuahua. The daring -nature of the attacks of the several tribes of Indians had created great -alarm throughout the country. A body of troops had been sent out to -punish the Indians for these murders, but returned without -success.----Movements are in progress in Santa Fé to work the gold -placers known to exist in that vicinity. The chief difficulty has -hitherto arisen from the want of water for washing the dust: this is now -to be remedied by digging wells. A gold hunting company of forty men has -left Santa Fé for a thorough exploration of the Gila region: they -expected to find others on the way to join them, so as to swell their -number to a hundred and fifty which would be sufficient for -self-defense. - -From UTAH the last California mail brought news that the Mormons at the -Great Salt Lake city had published a declaration of independence, -announcing their determination to setup a republic for themselves--that -they had put the United States' authorities at defiance--that all the -United States' officers had left, and the people were preparing to -resist all authority, by fortifying their settlements. The delegate in -Congress from Utah, Mr. John W. Bernhisel, published a card on the 1st -of March, pronouncing the report untrue, so far as the latest -intelligence from home which had reached him enabled him to give an -opinion. He said he thought the rumor was merely an exaggerated -statement of difficulties previously known. On the other hand, another -gentleman who left California on the 16th of December, expresses the -belief that the accounts are true. He says that the news was by no means -unexpected to the people of Oregon and California, as they had long been -aware of their hostile and ambitious designs. For decisive intelligence -we shall be obliged to wait for another arrival. - -From NORTHERN MEXICO we have news of a renewed repulse of Carvajal, whom -our last Record left on the Rio Grande, recruiting his forces. General -Avalos fortified Matamoras against an expected attack, which had created -great alarm among the inhabitants. On the 20th of February Carvajal -attacked Camargo with a force of over 500 men, but he was repulsed with -decided loss. He succeeded in escaping to the American side of the Rio -Grande. Of his whole force it is stated that only 84 were Mexicans. - -From SOUTH AMERICA we have intelligence of a later date. In _Venezuela_, -from which we have news to the 1st of February, Congress opened on the -25th of January. The Message of President Monagas announces a great -improvement in the financial condition of the country. All the -obligations on account of the public service have been met--the expenses -of the wars of 1848 and 1849 have been partially liquidated--the -interest on the domestic debt, which has not been satisfied since 1847, -has been paid, and the installments on the foreign debt, which have been -neglected for some years, have been promptly remitted to London--thus -improving the national credit abroad.----From the _La Plata_ we have -intelligence of an engagement, about the 1st of January, between the -forces of Rosas and Urquiza, which is said to have resulted in the -victory of the former, and in the desertion to his standard of five -thousand of Urquiza's troops. It is not easy to say how much of this is -reliable.----Political offenders in _Chili_ have been for some years -banished to the Straits of Magellan. An insurrection took place among -them lately, in which they killed the governor, seized the garrison, and -declared themselves independent of Chili. It is said that they have also -seized two or three American vessels. - - -GREAT BRITAIN. - -The political events of the month in England have been of striking -interest and importance. The expulsion of Lord Palmerston from the -Cabinet, mainly for offenses against etiquette--the meeting of -Parliament, and the subsequent defeat and retirement of the Russell -Ministry, with the reinstatement of a Protectionist Cabinet, are -certainly events of more consequence than are usually crowded into a -single month. - -Parliament met on the 3d of February, and was opened in person by the -Queen. Her speech announced that she continued to maintain the most -friendly relations with Foreign Powers. She had reason to believe that -the treaty between Germany and Denmark, concluded at Berlin year before -last, will soon be fully executed. Although tranquillity has prevailed -throughout the greater part of Ireland, certain parts of the counties of -Armagh, Monaghan, and Louth have been marked by the commission of -outrages of the most serious description. Bills have been prepared -founded upon the reports of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into -the practice and proceedings of the Superior Courts of Law and Equity, -which are commended to deliberate attention. The act of 1848 suspending -the previous act which conferred representative institutions on New -Zealand, expires early next year; and no reason exists for its renewal. -The large reductions of taxes which have taken place of late years have -not been attended with a proportionate diminution of national income. -The revenue of the past year has been fully adequate to the demands of -the public service, while the reduction of taxation has tended greatly -to the relief and comfort of the people. The Queen states that it -appears to her that "this is a fitting time for calmly considering -whether it may not be advisable to make such amendments in the act of -the late reign, relating to the Representation of the Commons in -Parliament, as may be deemed calculated to carry into more complete -effect the principles upon which that law is founded." She had "the -fullest confidence that, in any such consideration, Parliament would -firmly adhere to the acknowledged principles of the Constitution, by -which the prerogatives of the Crown, the authority of both Houses of -Parliament, and the rights and liberties of the people are equally -secured." - -Previous to the meeting of Parliament, the public was taken completely -by surprise by the retirement of Lord Palmerston from the Ministry, and -the appointment of Earl Granville as his successor. In the House of -Commons explanations took place on the first day of the session. The -reply to the Queen's speech was moved by Sir Richard Bulkeley; but, -before the question was taken, Sir Benjamin Hall called upon the Premier -for explanations of the disruption of the Ministry. Lord John Russell -immediately entered upon the subject, and after declaring his former -confidence in Lord Palmerston's management of Foreign Affairs, and -stating that in 1835, and again in 1845 and 1846 he had strongly -recommended him for that department, went on to state his conception of -the position of the Foreign Secretary toward the Crown and the Prime -Minister. He believed it to be the duty of the Minister to give to the -Crown the most full and frank details of every measure, and either to -obey the instructions he may receive, or resign. It "did so happen," he -said, "that in 1850 precise terms were laid down in a communication from -the Queen to Lord Palmerston--in which Her Majesty required, first, that -Lord Palmerston should distinctly state what he proposes in a given -case, in order that the Queen may know as distinctly to what she is -giving her Royal sanction; and, secondly, that having once given her -sanction to a measure, that it be not arbitrarily altered or modified by -the Minister. The Queen further expected to be kept informed of what -passes between the Foreign Secretary and the Foreign Ministers, before -important decisions are taken based upon that intercourse--to receive -the foreign dispatches in good time, and to have the drafts for her -approval sent to her in sufficient time to make herself acquainted with -their contents before they must be sent off."--In reply to this -communication, Lord Palmerston said he would not fail to attend to the -directions which it contained.--As for the Prime Minister, Lord John -Russell said he considered him, in fact, responsible for the business of -the department. At a meeting of the Cabinet, on the 3d of November, Lord -John expressed his opinion on the situation of Europe, which he deemed -very critical. There was a prospect of seeing social democracy, or -absolute power triumphant on the Continent; and in either case the -position of England would be very critical. He thought it necessary, -therefore, for England to preserve a strict neutrality, and to exercise -the utmost vigilance to prevent any cause of offense being given. Yet -very soon after that, Lord Palmerston received a deputation, and -listened to addresses containing expressions in the highest degree -offensive to sovereigns in alliance with England. Still Lord John said -he was willing to take the responsibility for all this, as he thought -the Secretary had merely committed an error.--The next cause of -difference occurred immediately after the usurpation of Louis Napoleon -on the 2d of December. The next day a cabinet meeting was held, at which -a request was presented from Lord Normanby, the English Minister at -Paris, that he might be furnished with instructions as to the -continuance of diplomatic relations with the new Government. In -conformity with the decision then made, Lord Palmerston, on the 5th, -instructed him to make no change in his relations with the French -government. On the 6th, Lord Normanby wrote saying that he had called on -M. Turgot, the French Minister, and informed him of this decision, to -which M. Turgot replied that it was of less consequence as he had two -days since heard from M. Walewski, the French Minister in London, that -Lord Palmerston had expressed to him his entire approbation of the act -of the President, and his conviction that he could not have acted -otherwise than he had done. On seeing this dispatch, Lord John asked -Lord Palmerston for an explanation, but got no answer. On the 13th of -December, he received a letter from the Queen, requesting an -explanation; but Lord Palmerston maintained the same disdainful silence. -On the 17th, he received another dispatch from Lord Normanby to Lord -Palmerston, complaining that Lord Palmerston should use one language in -his instructions to him and another to the French Minister in London, -and that while enjoining him not to express any opinion of French -politics, he should himself have expressed a very decided judgment. Such -a course, he added, subjected him to misrepresentation and suspicion. -Lord Palmerston, in reply to this, stated that Lord Normanby's -instructions related only to his conduct, and not to opinions: but that -if he wished to know Lord Palmerston's opinion concerning French -affairs, it was, that "such a state of antagonism had arisen between the -President and the Assembly, that it was becoming every day more clear -that their coexistence could not be of long duration; and it seemed to -him better for the interests of France, and through them for the -interests of the rest of Europe, that the power of the President should -prevail, inasmuch as the continuance of his authority might afford a -prospect of the maintenance of social order in France, whereas the -divisions of opinions and parties in the Assembly appeared to betoken -that their victory over the President would be the starting-point for -disastrous civil strife." Lord John Russell said that this dispatch -contained no satisfactory explanation of Lord Palmerston's course; that -the merits of the French government had now nothing to do with the case: -but that the real question was, whether the Secretary of State was -entitled of his own authority, to write a dispatch, as the organ of the -Government, in which his colleagues had never concurred, and to which -the Queen had never given her sanction. He thought, therefore, that he -could not without degrading the Crown, advise her Majesty longer to -retain Lord Palmerston in the Foreign department, and he had accordingly -advised her to request his resignation, which she had done. In -continuing his remarks Lord John expressed his belief that the President -of France had acted under a belief that the course he had taken was the -one best calculated to insure the welfare of his country; and proceeded -to censure the course of the English press toward Louis Napoleon, as -calculated to excite the animosity of the French nation, and perhaps to -involve the two countries in war. Lord Palmerston replied in a very -moderate tone, substantially admitting the truth of Lord John's -statements, though denying the justice of his inferences. He repelled -the intimation that he had abandoned the principles he had always -maintained--that he had become the advocate of absolute power, or in -favor of the abolition of Constitutional governments. He concurred in -what Lord John had said of the relations that ought to exist between the -Foreign Secretary and the Crown, and said he had done nothing -inconsistent with them. In regard to the deputation he had received, he -admitted that he had been surprised into a false position. His delay in -answering the letters of Lord John Russell had been entirely owing to -the great pressure of business; and his expressions of opinion -concerning Louis Napoleon were unofficial and in conversation. Other -members of the cabinet had expressed the same opinions, and under -circumstances quite as objectionable, certainly, as those under which -his own conversation was held. Lord Palmerston rehearsed the outlines of -the policy he had pursued in managing the foreign relations of Great -Britain, and concluded by saying that, on quitting office, he left the -character and reputation of England unsullied, and standing high among -the nations of the world.----In the House of Lords the debates following -the reading of the Queen's speech, had greater incidental than direct -interest. The Earl of Derby took occasion to speak in very strong terms -of what he termed "the injudicious and unjustifiable language of a large -portion of the English press upon the French government." He insisted -that it was the duty of the press to maintain the same tone of -moderation in discussing public affairs which is required of public men; -and he styled it worse than folly for the press in one breath to provoke -a French invasion, and in the next to proclaim the unpreparedness of the -English people to meet it. He was followed by Earl Grey, who expressed -his hearty concurrence in what he had said of the press, as did also -Lord Brougham. The London journals, and among them pre-eminently the -_Times_ and the _Examiner_, have taken up the challenge thus thrown -down, and have vindicated the press from the censures of the Lords in -some of the ablest writing of the day. - -On the 9th, Lord John Russell introduced his new Reform Bill. Its -provisions may be very briefly stated. The £10 franchise was to be -reduced to £5; the £50 county franchise gives way to one of £20; that of -copyholders and long leaseholders is to be reduced from £10 to £5; and a -new class of voters is to be created out of those who, resident in -either county or borough, pay direct taxes to the amount of 40 -shillings. In 67 boroughs additions are proposed to the electoral -boundaries; the property qualification is to be abolished, and the oaths -of members to be put in such a form as to create no invidious -distinctions. A member taking office under the crown vacates his seat; -but if he merely changes it, he may retain his representative capacity. -The Premier made a speech upon the subject, over an hour in length, and -remarkably free from feeling of any sort. The main objections urged to -the bill are that it does not concede the ballot, that it does not -remedy the evils of unequal representation, and that the changes it does -make in the existing law are of very little importance. Notice has been -given of an intention to move amendments to the bill which would remedy -these defects.----On the 19th, Lord Naas proposed a resolution severely -censuring the Earl of Clarendon's employment of the _World_ newspaper to -support the government, as being "of a nature to weaken the authority of -the executive, and to reflect discredit on the administration of public -affairs." The Earl was defended warmly by Lords Russell and Palmerston, -both of whom urged that, irregular as the proceeding might have been, it -was of trifling consequence compared with his lordship's eminent -services to the country. The resolution was rejected 229 to 137.----On -the 16th, Lord John Russell introduced a bill for the establishment of a -local militia force. He gave a sketch of the recent history of the -military organization of England, and set forth the reasons which, in -his judgment, rendered it important that some more effectual provision -should be made for the defense of the country against possible -hostilities. The general provisions of the bill were that persons of the -age of 20 and 21 years should be subject to being balloted for as -militia men--that one-fifth of the whole number should be chosen--and -that they should be drilled for 14 or 28 days each year. The entire -force thus raised, he thought, would be about 70,000 the first year, -100,000 the second, and 130,000 after that; the forces could not be -taken out of their own counties, without their consent, except in case -of invasion or danger. The subject was very slightly discussed at that -time, but came up again on the 20th, when Lord John Russell again spoke -in support of the bill. Lord Palmerston expressed his entire concurrence -in the principle of the bill, but moved as an amendment, to strike out -the word _local_ from the title, in order to make the title correspond -with the character of the bill itself. Lord John Russell said he could -not understand the object of such a motion, and that he should oppose -it. After some further debate the amendment was put and carried, ayes -136, noes 125, showing a majority against the Ministry of 11. Lord John -Russell expressed great surprise at the vote, and said that he should -hold office no longer. The resignation of the Ministry under such -circumstances created a good deal of surprise. In the course of three or -four days a new cabinet was formed under the leadership of the Earl of -Derby--late Lord Stanley--which is thoroughly Protectionist in its -sentiments. The Earl is Prime Minister; Mr. Disraeli is Chancellor of -the Exchequer and leader in the House of Commons; Mr. G. F. Young is -Vice President of the Board of Trade; Duke of Northumberland, first Lord -of the Admiralty; Lord John Manners, Commissioner of Woods and Forests; -Sir F. Thesiger, Attorney General; Earl of Eglintoun, Lord Lieutenant of -Ireland; Duke of Montrose, Lord Steward; Lord Stanley, Under Secretary -for Foreign Affairs. It is supposed that the new Ministry will break -ground at once against the corn-law policy established by Sir Robert -Peel, hostility to which is the only bond of union among its members; -and the universal belief is that the new administration will fail to be -sustained by the country on that question. - -One of the earliest topics to which the attention of the Earl of -Granville, Lord Palmerston's immediate successor, was called, was the -degree of protection which England should afford to political refugees -from other countries. In reply to representations on this subject from -the Austrian Government, Earl Granville, in a dispatch dated January 13, -spoke of the right of asylum which England always had granted, and could -never refuse to political refugees; and added that the English -government would, nevertheless, consider any intrigues, carried on there -against governments with which they were at peace, as a breach of -hospitality, and would not fail to watch the conduct of suspected -refugees, and to prevent them from abusing the privileges afforded them -by English laws. Prince Schwarzenberg, in reply, expressed satisfaction -at the tenor of these assurances, but said, that until the words of the -English government were followed by deeds, it would be necessary for -Austria to take measures of precaution and protection against the -dangers which the ceaseless machinations of foreign refugees on English -soil created. The Imperial government would be especially rigid in -regard to English travelers, and would, moreover, reserve the right of -taking into consideration ulterior measures, if, unhappily, the need of -them should still make itself felt.----A terrible disaster from floods -occurred in the north of England on the 5th of February. Several of the -factories of the town of Holmfrith, near Huddersfield, were supplied -with water by large reservoirs, in which an immense body of water had -been accumulated. Owing to the heavy rains one of the largest of them -broke its banks, and the water poured through the town, sweeping houses -away in its path and causing an immense loss of life and property. Over -one hundred persons were drowned. Very great injury had been sustained -by other towns in that vicinity. In the south of Ireland also, -especially in the counties of Limerick and Clare, much property and some -lives have been lost by the swelling of the smaller streams.----The -dispatches of Earl Grey recalling Sir Harry Smith from the government of -the Cape, have been published: they show that his incompetence for the -post has been the real cause of his removal, and that the policy of the -government is to prosecute the war with increased vigor, so as to reduce -the Kaffirs and Hottentots to unconditional submission.----We mentioned -in our Record for March, the repulse of the English slave squadron while -attempting to ascend the river, to the town of Lagos, on the coast of -Africa, contrary to the commands of the chief. Later advices report the -renewal of the attempt, and the overthrow of the chief's authority, -though at a very heavy cost on the part of the English. The town of -Lagos has long been the stronghold of the slave trade on that part of -the coast, and the English have directed their efforts toward the -suppression of the traffic there. The chief of the town named Kosoko, -was actively engaged in the trade himself, in connection with Portugese -and Brazilian dealers. He had obtained power by expelling a rival named -Akitoye, who sought aid against him in an alliance with the English. -When Kosoko, therefore, refused permission to the English to bring their -armed boats to Lagos, the commander of the squadron concerted an attack -upon the town, with the adherents of the expelled chief. The town was -defended with a good deal of skill and bravery, and the assault upon it -lasted three days, at the end of which time it was found to have been -deserted. The English lost 16 killed and 64 wounded. It is said that the -destruction of this town will do much toward the suppression of the -slave trade.----A new expedition in search of Sir John Franklin has been -resolved upon by the British Government, and Sir Edward Belcher has been -appointed to the command. He will leave England about the middle of -April, with the four ships which composed Captain Austin's late -expedition. His attention will first be directed to Beechey Island, -where Sir John is known to have passed the winter of 1845-6. The great -object of this new expedition is to examine the upper part of Wellington -Strait as far as possible beyond Captain Penny's northwest advance. - - -FRANCE. - -Political affairs in France remain substantially unchanged. The law -organizing the Legislative body has been published. The Legislature is -to consist of 261 deputies, elected by the people, in the proportion of -one for every 35,000 electors in the first instance, with one more -deputy for every 25,000 beyond that number. Algeria and the Colonies are -not to be represented. All electors are eligible except public -functionaries. Every Frenchman of the age of twenty-one, who has not -forfeited his civil rights, has the vote.----We mentioned in our last -Record the protest of the testamentary executors of Louis Philippe -against the decree of confiscation, issued by the President. The Princes -of Orleans--the Duke de Nemours, and the Prince de Joinville--have -addressed a letter of thanks to the executors, in which they resent with -becoming indignation the insults heaped upon the memory of their father, -which they say are "especially odious when brought forward by a man who -on two different occasions received proofs of the magnanimity of King -Louis Philippe, and whose family never received any thing from him but -benefits." To the honor of the country which they had always loyally -served and would ever love, they say, "these disgraceful decrees, and -their still more disgraceful preambles, have not dared to appear except -under the _régime_ of a state of siege, and after the suppression of all -the guaranties which protected the liberties of the nation." The Duchess -of Orleans has also addressed the following brief and indignant protest -to the President:--"Monsieur--As I do not acknowledge your right to -plunder my family, neither do I acknowledge your right to assign to me a -dotation in the name of France. I refuse the dowry.--HELENA -D'ORLEANS."----The new Ministry of Police has been organized by decree. -The Minister is to have attached to his office three directors-general, -who are to appoint inspector-general, special inspectors, and -commissaries of police in the departments. Prominent among the duties of -all of these officials are those of watching and reporting every attempt -to influence public opinion against the government, keeping a close eye -on the press and on publications of every sort--upon theatres, prisons, -schools, and political and commercial associations. They are all to be -under the immediate direction and control of the Minister of Police. The -organization spreads a complete network of precaution over every form of -public opinion in France.----Louis Napoleon gave a magnificent -entertainment to a large number of the English nobility at Paris, on the -1st of February, at the Elysée---the whole party numbering 44. It is -stated that after the dinner was over, he took occasion to complain of -the attacks upon him in the English press, and to say that he should be -obliged to exclude them from France. He also spoke of the rumors that he -intended to invade England as absurd.----Jerome Bonaparte is appointed -President of the Senate, with the _petit_ Luxembourg as his official -residence in Paris, the Palace of Meudon for his country-seat, and a -salary of 150,000 francs, besides 800,000 francs for entertaining, a -year.----It is stated that Madame George Sand recently had an interview -with the President, and made very strong representations to him of the -sufferings of the peasantry in the rural districts from the immense -number of arrests that had been made of suspected persons, and urgently -requesting him to grant a general amnesty. The President is said to have -expressed great interest in the subject, but to have declined any -compliance with the request.----The decree for the regulation of the -press has been promulgated. It is almost needless to say that it -destroys every semblance of freedom of the press, and makes it a mere -subservient tool in the hands of the Government. It consists of four -chapters, and the following are their provisions: (1.) No journal can be -published without first obtaining permission of the Government; nor can -any foreign journal be admitted into France except by the same -permission: and any person bringing into France an unauthorized paper -will be liable to a year's imprisonment and to a fine of 5000 francs. -Every publisher must deposit caution-money, from 15,000 to 50,000 -francs, before he can issue a paper, under heavy penalties. (2.) Stamp -duties are imposed upon all journals whether published in France, or -introduced from other countries; and the authorities are enjoined to -seize all publications violating these regulations. (3.) Every violation -of the article of the Constitution which prohibits Legislative reports, -is punishable by fine of from 1000 to 5000 francs. The publication of -false news subjects to a fine, and if it be of a tendency to disturb the -public peace, imprisonment is added. No account of the proceedings of -the Senate or Council of State, and no report of trials for press -offenses, can be published; and in all affairs, civil, correctional, or -criminal, the courts may forbid the publication of their proceedings. -Every editor is bound to publish official documents, relations, and -rectifications which may be addressed to him by any public authority; if -he fail to do so, he may be fined and his journal seized No one can -carry on the bookseller's trade, or issue or sell engravings, medals, or -prints of any kind, without obtaining permission of the authorities, and -becoming subject to the same restrictions as are imposed upon journals. -(4.) With regard to existing journals, three months are allowed for them -to deposit the caution money required, and to conform to the other -provisions of the new law.----The President, by decree, has abolished -all fête days except the birth-day of the Emperor, on the ground that -their celebration recalls the remembrance of civil discord; and that the -only one observed should be that which best tends to unite all minds in -the common sentiment of national glory----The Paris correspondent of the -London _Times_ reports that a correspondence of general interest has -taken place between the governments of France and Russia. It is said -that the Czar wrote to his minister in Paris, expressing dissatisfaction -at the adoption by the President of the emblems of the Empire, stating -that he saw in all these movements the preliminaries of the -re-establishment of the Imperial era. While he approved of the _coup -d'état_ which had put an end to republicanism in France, he could only -regard Louis Napoleon as the temporary chief, and could not approve any -attempt to give another and more important character to his authority. -It is said that Louis Napoleon replied to this note, when it was read to -him, by complaining that his intentions had been misunderstood and -misrepresented;--that, in re-establishing the emblems of the Empire, and -in reverting to the constitution of the year VIII., he only meant to -establish a strong authority in his hands; that the recollections of the -Empire constituted his strength, and invested him with popularity among -the masses; that there was nothing astonishing in the fact of his -seeking in the institutions of the Empire what was certain to -re-establish authority in France; that he had no intention of -re-establishing the Empire, or of making himself Emperor; that he did -not want either, for the accomplishment of the mission to which he had -been called; that his title of President sufficed for him; that he had -no reason to trouble himself about an Imperial dynasty which has no -existence; and that there was no reason for the Emperor Nicholas -troubling himself about it. - -The relations of France to Belgium are assuming a character of -considerable interest and importance. The fact that most of the exiled -Frenchmen found refuge in Belgium, excited the fears of the government -that they would thence exert a dangerous influence upon French affairs. -Strong representations were therefore made to the Belgian authorities, -who have adopted every possible means of satisfying the French -government, by suppressing distrusted journals, exercising strict -vigilance over refugees, and ordering many of them out of the country, -or away from Brussels. It is also stated that the Duke of Bassano, the -new French envoy to the Belgian court, has been authorized to demand -from that government the removal of the monumental lion erected by the -British government to commemorate the battle of Waterloo, and to -demolish the other trophies. The rumors of hostile designs on the part -of Louis Napoleon, have led to the publication of an official denial in -the _Moniteur_. That article states that the French government has -addressed no demands whatever to foreign powers, excepting Belgium, -where it was necessary, in order to prevent a system of incessant -aggression. It has not armed a single soldier, neither has it done any -thing to awaken the least susceptibility in its neighbors. All the views -of the power in France are bent upon interior improvements. "It will not -depart from its calm demeanor, except on the day when an attack shall -have been made on the national honor and dignity." The London _Morning -Chronicle_ states, as a fact of considerable historical interest, that, -as early as 1849, Louis Napoleon distinctly solicited General Changamier -to join with him in such a usurpation as he has since achieved, offering -to make him Constable of France, with a million of francs a year and the -palace of the Elysée for a residence; and that he was met by a -peremptory refusal. - - -SPAIN. - -An attempt to assassinate the Queen of Spain was made by a priest named -Martin Marino, on the 2d of February. The Queen was proceeding along the -principal gallery of her palace toward the grand staircase, intending to -go out upon a fête occasion, for which splendid preparations had been -made, when she was approached by the priest, who kneeled to present a -memorial. Her Majesty reached out her hand to take it, when he suddenly -drew a dirk and made a stab at her side. Her arm, however, partially -averted the blow, though she was severely wounded. She leaned against -the wall, and one of her aids came up just in time to prevent a second -blow. The assassin was arrested and confessed the crime--saying that his -object was to render a service to humanity; and denying that he had any -accomplices. He was tried on the 3d, and sentenced to death by -strangulation. On the 7th, he was executed by the _garote vil_. He -conducted himself with the most brutal indifference, refusing any of the -usual offices of religion, and abusing all who came near him. The Queen -suffered considerably from the wound, but was convalescent at the last -accounts. Several arrests had been made, of persons suspected of having -been concerned as accomplices with him, but no evidence was found to -implicate any. - - -CENTRAL AND EASTERN EUROPE. - -No events of special importance have occurred in any of the continental -nations. All the governments seem to be more or less agitated by rumors -of differences with England and France, and their policy is somewhat -affected by them. The suspicion of hostile intentions on the part of -Louis Napoleon toward Belgium has enlisted a good deal of suspicion, and -letters from Brussels, dated the 19th February, state positively that a -convention had been entered into, by which Russia agrees to furnish -100,000 men for the defense of that territory in case it should be -invaded or seriously menaced by France. Prussia has also promised -similar assistance, and the Prince de Ligne is said to be now in Berlin -for the purpose of arranging the details. These important statements, -however, do not seem to be made on authority sufficient to command full -credit. - -In AUSTRIA, it is said, that Prince Schwartzenberg is preparing a -general statement of the views of Austria concerning the state of -Europe, and an indication of the line of policy which she will pursue. -The mediation of Austria between Sardinia and the Pope has also been -proposed, and amicable relations are again to be established between the -Sardinian and Austrian governments. A new treaty has been concluded, by -which Austria is to supply Russia annually with large quantities of -salt. - -In SWITZERLAND the only movements of importance relate to the demand -made by the French government that the Council should promise hereafter -to expel any fugitive who might be designated as dangerous. The Federal -Government, while firmly refusing to enter into any such engagement, -avowed its readiness to take all proper and necessary precautions -against the sojourn of political refugees in Switzerland becoming a -source of disquietude to neighboring states. An official report on the -subject states that in June last there were but 235 political refugees -in the Swiss states, and that they were all under the strict -_surveillance_ of the police. Those who had taken any active steps -likely to compromise the interests of other states, had been promptly -expelled. There was a great deal of public interest manifested -throughout Switzerland concerning the relations between their country -and France, and considerable apprehension prevailed that their rights -and liberties might not always be rigidly respected. - -The government of the Duchy of HOLSTEIN was formally transferred by the -Commissaries of Prussia and Austria to the Commissary of Denmark, Count -Reventlow-Criminil, on the 8th of February, in an official conference -held at Kiel. - -In both GREECE and TURKEY there have been changes of Ministry. In the -former country the change has no general importance. In Turkey, it is -significant of reaction. Reschid Pacha, the most liberal and enlightened -minister ever placed at the head of affairs in the Ottoman empire, has -been dismissed, and is succeeded by Raaf Pacha, a man upward of eighty -years of age, who was prime minister in 1838. The negotiation in regard -to the Holy Sepulchre has been abandoned, and the French minister was to -leave Constantinople forthwith. - - - - -Editor's Table. - - -Science, it has been said, is essentially unpoetical. It must be -acknowledged, nevertheless, that it not unfrequently furnishes some of -our choicest similes. Homer had, indeed, long ago compared thought to -the lightning; but how much more definite, and, on this account, more -effective, is the kindred simile drawn from the discovery of the modern -electric telegraph. And yet, is there not here something more than -simile? Is not the communication from soul to soul literally, as well as -figuratively _tele-graphic_, that is, _far-writing_, or _writing from -afar_? We hope to interest our readers by a brief examination of the -query we have started. - -An identity might, perhaps, be shown in the very medium of -communication, so far as the process has a material medium. There is no -difficulty, and no danger, in admitting that the electric fluid may be -the agent in the cerebral and organic transmission, as well as in the -galvanic battery. But it is mainly in the process itself that we may -trace the striking correspondence between the two modes of intelligence. -The primary element of all thought is a spiritual _emotion_. The end -of all communication, mediate or immediate, is to produce the same -emotion or feeling in another soul. To this every other step is -subordinate. Even thought is not so much an end, in itself, as is the -spiritual feeling, or exercise of soul corresponding to it. This -spiritual emotion, then, must first be brought under the form of a -conception, or an objective picture, without which it can not be -distinctly read and understood, even by the soul in which it first -exists, much less communicated to another. So far the process is -strikingly the same with that adopted in the telegraphic dispatch. The -soul, by its own spiritual energy, first turns the emotion or feeling -into a thought. It translates the thought from the abstract to the -concrete, from the intuitional to the conceptive. It brings it down into -the soul's chamber of imagery, and imprints it on the brain. In other -words, the message is reduced to writing and given to the clerk at the -station-house, who translates it into telegraphic signals. The more -immediate transmitting power is now set in operation. An influence is -imparted from the brain to the nerves (or wires) of the vocal organs. It -is continued to the lungs, and sets in motion a current of air. This -impinges on the outward atmosphere, and is carried on through successive -undulations until it reaches the other station for which it was -designed. It enters the office-chamber of the ear, communicates with the -other cerebral battery, and then writes off from the auditory nerve or -wire, the signals which, by the other logical and linguistic faculty, or -the clerk at the second station, are translated into the pictorial -symbols understood by all, and thus written on the second brain. The -spiritual inhabitant to whom it is directed, again translates it, in a -reverse order, from the verbal to the conceptive, from the conceptive to -the emotional--the intuition is spiritually _seen_--the emotion is -_felt_--and thus the circuit is completed. - -This is substantially the process every time we hold intercourse by -means of speech. The operation is ever imperfect in all, and more -imperfect in some than in others. We make mistakes in translating our -own intuitions and emotions. We make still greater mistakes in taking -off from the wires, and in re-translating the conceptual language which -brings to us the feelings and intuitions of others. But there is no -other way. The author of our spiritual and material constitution hath -literally _shut us up_ to this, and we can not get out of the limits -within which He has confined our intercourse with other spirits. -Clairvoyance boasts of having broken through them, or over them; but -clairvoyance is yet a fact to be established. Even, too, if it has any -claims upon our belief, it will doubtless be found, in the end, to be -only a stenographic shortening of some of the steps, without being, in -reality, any more an _immediate_ action of mind upon mind than the -ordinary process. - -Spirit can only communicate with spirit through outward symbols, and by -more or less steps, all of which may be regarded as _outward_ to the -most interior effect. By long familiarity this circuitous chain assumes -to us the appearance of directness. But in truth we never see each -other; we never hear each other; if by the terms be meant our very -_self_--our very spiritual form, our very spiritual voice. Even to our -human soul may be accommodated without irreverence the language which -Paul applies to the Deity. Even of us it may be said, although in a far -lower sense, "_Our invisible things are only understood by the things -that are done_," even our temporal power and humanity. Each soul is -_shut up_ in an isolation as perfect, in one sense, as that which -separates the far distant worlds in the universe. Had there been round -each one of us a wall of adamant a thousand feet in thickness, with only -the smallest capillary apertures through which to carry the wires of -telegraphic signals, we could not, as to the essential action of the -spirit, be more secluded than we are at present. We say the essential, -or first action of the soul--for doubtless there may be various degrees -of difficulty or facility in the modes of mediate communication. But in -this more spiritual sense each one of us exists by himself. We live -apart in utter loneliness. The seclusion of each spirit knows no -infraction. Its perfect solitude has never been invaded by any foreign -intrusion. - -To one who deeply reflects on the fact to which we have been calling -attention, the first feeling, and a just feeling too, might be one of -pride. The dignity of our nature would seem enhanced by such a -constitution. Each man's "mind is his kingdom," in which he may be as -autocratic as he wills. It makes even the lowest in the scale of -humanity such an absolute sovereign within his own spiritual boundaries, -so perfectly secure, if he please, against all foreign intervention. It -sets in so striking a light what in its physical and etymological, -rather than its moral sense, may be styled the _holiness_--_the -wholeness_, _hale-ness_, or _separate integrity_ of each man's essential -being. It is in this point of view, too, that to every hale mind the -pretensions of clairvoyance must appear so inexpressibly revolting. We -allude to its assumption of having the power of committing what, for the -want of a better name, we can only characterize as spiritual -burglary--in other words, of breaking into our spiritual house, and -taking its seat in the very shrine of the interior consciousness. What -can be more degrading to our human nature than to admit that any other -human power, or human will, can at any time, and from any motive, even -for purposes of the most frivolous amusement, actually enter this inner -sanctuary, turning the immortal spirit into a paltry show-house, and -rudely invading, or pretending to invade, the soul's essential glory, -its sacred and unapproachable individuality? - -There is, however, another aspect of the thought in which it may give -rise to a very different, if not an opposite emotion. There may be, too, -at times, a feeling of the deepest melancholy called out by that other -consideration of our spiritual solitude, of our being so utterly alone -upon the earth--a feeling which has never been set forth with so much -power and, at the same time, truthful simplicity, as in the touching -language of inspiration--"_The heart knoweth its own bitterness, and a -stranger meddleth not with its joy._" And then, again, although we would -in general shrink from it as a painful ordeal, there are periods when we -long for a more searching communion with other spirits than can ever be -expected from the most intimate methods of mediate intercourse. There -are periods when we are irresistibly drawn out to say--O that some other -soul were acquainted with us as we think we are acquainted with -ourselves, not only with our fancied virtues and our mere real sins, as -they appear imperfectly manifested by misinterpreted signals from -within, but with our very soul itself. Yes, there is sadness in the -thought that we are so unknown, even to those who would be thought to -know us best--unknown alike in that which makes us better as in that -which makes us worse than we seem;--for we are all better, and we are -all worse than we appear to our fellow-men. - -And here, we think, may be found an argument for the existence of Deity, -built on stronger and more assuring ground than is furnished by any of -the ordinary positions of natural theology. It is an argument derived -from one of the most interior wants of our moral constitution. There is -no doubt that in our fallen state a feeling of pain--at times of intense -pain--may connect itself in our minds with the recognition of the Divine -idea; but there is also an element of happiness, and, if cherished, of -the highest and most serious happiness, in the thought that there is One -Great Soul that does penetrate into our most interior spirituality. -There is one Soul that is ever as intimately present with us as our own -consciousness--that holds communion with us, and with whom we may hold -communion, in a manner impossible for any other. There is One that -thinks our thoughts, and feels our feelings, even as we think them, and -as we feel them, although, along with this, in another manner, too, of -its own, that transcends our thinking "even as the heavens are high -above the earth," and is as far removed from all the imperfections of -our own spiritual exercises. There may seem an inconsistency in this -apparent mingling of the finite and the infinite in the Divine Nature, -but it is the belief of both which unlocks for us the meaning of the -Scriptures, and sheds light over every page of revelation and of -providence. There is a higher Soul that pervades our spiritual entity, -not as an impersonal or pantheistic abstraction, but as the most -distinctly personal of all personalities--not as a mere Law of nature, -but as a Father "who careth for us," as a Guardian "who numbereth the -very hairs of our heads," as a Judge who taketh note of every thought, -and gives importance to all our forgotten sins, while He is, at the same -time, present with, and caring for every other individual soul in the -universe. As in some previous musings of our Editorial Table, we might -have adverted to the Divine physical power as the ever-present dynamical -entity in the seeming vacuities of space, and binding together the -isolated material worlds, so here we may regard the Higher Spiritual -Presence as the true bond of union among all those isolated souls that -fill the spiritual universe. Thus viewed, the fact of such communion -would be the highest truth in philosophy, as a belief in the reality of -its possible consciousness would be the highest article of faith. - - -HISTORY IS PHILOSOPHY TEACHING BY EXAMPLE. - -The thought has been deemed so profound as to give rise to some -discussion respecting its origin. As a definition, however, the maxim is -liable to serious objection. It presents, rather, the uses, or the chief -use, of history, than the essential idea. The individual memory may also -be said to be _philosophy teaching by example_; but then it becomes only -another name for that experience which is but the application of -remembered facts to the guidance of the future life. So history may be -called THE WORLD'S MEMORY--the memory of a race--of a nation--of a -collective humanity. - -It is in vain, then, for us to say what facts, in themselves, _ought_ to -constitute history. The matter is settled. It is not what any -philosophy, or any theology, or any science of history may deem _worthy_ -of remembrance, but what has actually been thus remembered, or is now so -entering into the common mind as to form the ground of memory in the -future. The parallelism in this respect between the individual and this -national, or common mind, is striking and complete. The true history of -each man is not so much what he has done, as what he has thought and -felt. The thought is the _form_ of the feeling, and the act merely the -outward testimony by which both are revealed. It is not, therefore, -every act, or _doing_, which enters into his history--not even those -which have formed the greater part of his constant daily exercise--but -simply such as for any reason have made the deepest impression on the -inner man, and which, therefore, stand out in the records of his memory -when all else has perished. What this chronicles is the man's veritable -history. However important other parts of his conduct may appear -externally, this is his true spiritual life. It is the record, the -imperishable record of that which has reached and stirred the depths of -his soul, while other acts, and other events, have had their lodgment -only in the outward un-emotional existence. - -Such memory, or such history, may not be what it ought to have been; it -may not be the measure of accountability. All that we insist upon is the -fact, that, whether right or wrong, it is the true history of the -individual, because it is his real life. But then there are degrees of -memory. It is not always, in all its parts, either present to the mind, -or capable of recall at will. Still, what has once in this manner truly -_affected_ his soul, has by this become a part of it, and can, -therefore, never be lost. Like some old historical record it may be laid -aside for a season, but sooner or later must it come forth, and claim -its place as belonging to that individual personality into which it -enters as a constituent and inseparable portion. - -The parallel may be traced to almost any extent. Like the memory of our -earliest years, so is the dawning history of a young world or nation, -except so far as positive revelation has shed its light upon it. Both -are _mythical_. In other words, facts are remembered, not as they are in -themselves, but as seen through the magnifying and coloring influence of -the emotional medium with which they are ever afterward associated. Like -stars observed through a densely refracting atmosphere, they stand -apart, each in its own seclusion, and hence they loom upon the vision -without any of those mutually connecting associations that belong to our -subsequent thinking. There is, too, in both cases, the same -chronicler--the pure remembrance, a _tradition_ unaided by any of those -outward helps that are afterward employed. At a later period more -regular annals succeed this mythic handing down of isolated facts. The -state has its formal remembrancer, its [Greek: syngrapheus], or -historical _arranger_ of events in a _connected_ story, and in their -mutual relations. Corresponding to this, then, arises in the individual -that orderly habit of thinking which produces associations, having a -similar effect in causing a stricter union between the outer and inner -relations of the soul. - -Again, there are times when the man gets to himself what may be called -an _artificial_ memory. He would change the natural flow of thought, -and determine what he _will_ remember, and what he _ought_ to -remember--forgetting that before he can effectually do this he must be -changed himself in the innermost springs of his being. He studies -mnemonics. He manufactures new laws of association. But this effort ever -fails in the end. Nature will have her way. The old course of memory -will return; and with it the spiritual history of the man will go on as -before. - -So, too, the state or nation may have its artificial periods, and its -systems of political mnemonics. The mythical, the epic, the heroic, and -not only these, but the later, yet not less thrilling chronicles of -stirring events that carried with them the whole heart of the national -humanity, give way to statistics, and documents of trade, or tables of -revenue, or in a word, to what are deemed the more important records of -_political economy_. Here, too, there may be an attempt to change the -course of nature, and make that to be history which never can be such, -except at the expense of some of those attributes, which, although -liable to great and dangerous perversions, are still the noblest parts -of our humanity. - -Such artificial records of history may be highly useful in their -connection with the interests of particular classes and occupations. The -time also may come in which they may gather around them an antiquarian -value, blending with some of the more universal emotions of our common -nature. But aside from this, although they may furnish rich materials -for other departments of useful knowledge, they are not history, simply -because they lack that catholic element, by which alone they enter into -the common memory, and thus become a part of the common national mind. - -Some say the world has heretofore been all wrong in the matter. History -has been but a record of wars, of tumultuous national movements, of -theological dogmas, of religious and political excitements. It has been -but the biography of monarchs and royal families, or a narrative of -popular commotions as connected with them. It has presented us only with -names of isolated pre-eminence. The time has now come when we "must -change all that." The daily pursuits of the masses, and all the -statistics of ordinary life--these ought to have been history, and good -writers will henceforth make them so, not only for our times, but for -the periods that are past. "The history of the world," it has been said, -"is yet to be written." But, alas! for these plausible and philanthropic -reforms, there are two serious obstacles in the way. In the first place, -the records of such matters as they would make the grounds of history -are too scanty and uncertain, because they never have had that catholic -interest which would give them an abiding place in the common national -memory. In the second place, it will be equally difficult to secure for -them such lodgment in the universal thinking of the present age, or of -ages yet to come. Not that the world will always continue the same, or -that there will not be ever new matters of genuine historical interest. -The course of things and thinking may greatly change. Wars may cease. -Monarchy may expire. Even democracies may become obsolete. Such changes -may be for the better or the worse. Faith may go out. Those religious -dogmas and discussions, which politicians and political economists have -regarded as such useless and troublesome intruders into the province of -history, may lose their hold upon the mind. Still our essential position -remains unchanged. It will not be what the masses severally _do_ but -what _moves_ the masses, not their _several_ occupations and pursuits, -but what has a deep and moving interest for the common national soul, -that will constitute history. The wars of the White and Red Roses were -the true history of England for that period, because they were the only -subjects that could be said to occupy all minds alike. It was not -because the chronicler forgot the masses, and thought only of the great, -but because he wrote for the masses, and for the masses not only of his -own time, but of times to come. - -Events may have more or less of a personal connection with monarchs, but -it would not follow from this that the history which records them is a -history alone of kings and statesmen. It is only so far as they and -their acts were the representatives of the national heart, and the -national thought, that they came down in the national memory, and the -national records. The separate ordinary pursuits of men may, in one -sense, occupy more of our ordinary thinking, but the other or historic -interest we recognize as being of a higher, a more exciting, and even a -more absorbing kind, because belonging to us, and felt by us in common -with multitudes of other souls. The mechanic or farmer may consult books -of a professional or statistical nature, but _as history_ they will be -ever unreadable. Even in the workshop and in the field, although the -habitual current of his thoughts may be upon what would seem to him the -nearest, and therefore the more important concerns of life, these other -elements of history will yet have the greater charm, and occupy a higher -place both in his feelings and his intelligence. - -It is what he thinks _with others_ that constitutes the higher life of -his being. Hence the tendency of the popular mind, in all ages, to be -absorbed in the recital of deeds most remote from the daily associations -of ordinary life. Hence the popularity of the rhapsodist, the minstrel, -the chronicler, and, in our own age, of the Magazine and the Newspaper. -Hence, too, in the more free and popular governments of modern times, -the universal devotion to what is called _politics_. Why is the farmer -more excited by an election than by the sale of his wheat? Most false as -well as unphilosophical is the view which would ascribe this to any -calculating patriotism, to any utilitarian vigilance, or to what is -commonly called an _enlightened self-interest_. The mechanic thinks more -of politics than of his trade; for the same reason that led his ancestor -to the crusade or the tournament. Instead of being the offspring of -utilitarian views, this _public spirit_ is often most blindly -destructive of the _private_ interest, and most directly opposed to all -the teachings of that political economy which recognizes its own -utilities as alone the true and rational ends of human action. In a much -higher sense, too, is all this true, when a religious element enters -into the common or catholic feeling. - -To illustrate the view we have endeavored to present, let us select some -particular date--say the 5th day of March, in the year of our Lord one -thousand seven hundred and seventy. What was the history of our own -country for that day? What the masses were doing would be the answer -which some of the new school would promptly make. But even could this be -ascertained it would not be history. On that day the three millions of -our land were engaged in the various avocations connected with their -ordinary life and ordinary interests. On that day, too, there was a -particular, and, perhaps, ascertainable state of agriculture, of the -mechanic arts, of education, &c., such as might furnish the ground of a -most valuable statistical essay. There were also, doubtless, thousands -of striking incidents every where transpiring. But none of these -constituted the then history of our country. This was all taking place -in one narrow street of one single city, away off in one remote corner -of our land. A quarrel had arisen between a few foreign soldiers and a -collection of exasperated citizens, in the course of which some few of -the latter were slain. In this event was centred, for the time, the -whole history of the English colonies in North America, and of what -afterward became the great American nation. Among all the acts and -states, and influences of that day, this alone was history, because it -alone, whether right or not, entered into the universal national memory. -It was _thought_ by all, _felt_ by all, and therefore became, for the -time in which it was so thought and felt, the one common history of all. -Again--on the 19th day of April, 1775, the one fact which afterward -formed the common thought and the common memory, was the battle of -Lexington. On the 4th of July, 1776, it was the Declaration of American -Independence. On the 23d day of September, 1780, there might have been -seen, in a secluded valley of the Hudson, three rustic militia men -busily examining the dress of a British officer. One of them is in the -act of taking a piece of paper from the prisoner's boot. This, in a most -emphatic sense, was American history for that day; may we not say the -history of Europe also, and of the world. And so in other departments. A -single man is standing before a company of statesmen and ecclesiastics. -It is Luther before the Diet of Worms. This is the one common thought -which represents that momentous period in the records of the Church. The -subject tempts us with further illustrations, but we call to mind that -our Drawer and Easy Chair are waiting impatiently for the delivery of -their contents. It is time, therefore, to exchange the prosings of the -Editor's Table for their more varied, and, as we trust the reader will -judge, more attractive materials. - - - - -Editor's Easy Chair. - - -Our _now_, when we write, stands morally as far off from what will be -_now_ to our readers, when this sheet comes before them, as though the -interval measured half the circumference of the Ecliptic, instead of -being bounded between these dull March days and the bright April -morning, when our Magazine will be lying by many an open window from -Maine to Georgia. Our Easy Chair chit-chat must take its coloring from -our _now_, and not from that of our readers. - - * * * * * - -The town has just woke up from its wintry carnival of sleighs and bells, -and wears much the aspect of a reveler who is paying the penalty for too -free over-night potations. Broadway no longer flows along like a stream -of molten silver, but resembles nothing so much as the mud-river of -Styx--"darker far than perse" of the great Florentine; and instead of -the fairy-like sleighs of the month gone by, is traversed only by the -lumbering omnibuses, scattering far and wide the inky fluid. To cross -the street dry-shod is not to be thought of, save at one or two points -where philanthropic tradesmen, mindful of the public good--and their -own--have subsidized a troop of sweepers to clear a passage in front of -their doors. We accept the favor with all gratitude, and do not inquire -too closely into the stories of silver goblets, presented by grateful -ladies to these public benefactors. Under such circumstances all lighter -matters of gossip are things of the past--and of the future, let us -hope. - - * * * * * - -Into the current of graver talk several pebbles have been thrown, which -have rippled its surface into circlets wider than usual. The meeting in -commemoration of COOPER was a worthy tribute to the memory of one who -has shed honor upon his country by adding new forms of beauty to the -intellectual wealth of the world. It was singularly graceful and -appropriate that the funeral discourse of the greatest American -Novelist, should have been pronounced by the greatest American Poet--and -should we say the greatest living poet who speaks the tongue of Milton -and Shakspeare, who would dare to place another name in competition for -the honor with that of BRYANT? - - * * * * * - -Public "Lectures," or the "Lyceum," as one of the lecturing notabilities -not very felicitously denominates the institution, had begun to assume a -somewhat mythical character in the estimation of townsmen, as relics of -ages long gone by, of which man's memory--the Metropolitan man's, that -is--takes no note. We have indeed had rumors from the "Athens of -America," and other far-away places, that Lectures had not fallen into -utter desuetude; but we were, on the whole, inclined to put little faith -in the reports. During the last few weeks, however, the matter has again -forced its way into the town talk. The "Tabernacle" weekly opens its -ponderous jaws, for the delivery of the "People's Lectures," where, for -the not very alarming sum of one shilling--with a deduction in cases -where a gentleman is accompanied by more ladies than one--a person may -listen for an hour to the mystic elocution and seer-like deliverances of -EMERSON, or may hear KANE depict the dreamy remembrances of those -Hyperborean regions where sunrise and sunset are by no means those -every-day occurrences that they are in more equatorial regions. To us, -as we sit in our Easy Chair, it seems as though this system of cheap -popular public lectures were capable of almost indefinite expansion. Why -should not SILLIMAN or GUYOT address three thousand instead of three -hundred hearers? Why should they not unswathe the world from its -swaddling-clothes before an audience which would fill our largest halls? -Why should not ORVILLE DEWEY discourse on the great problems of Human -Destiny and Progress before an assemblage which should people the -cavernous depths of the "Tabernacle," as well as before the audience, -relatively small, though doubtless fit, assembled before the frescoes of -the Church of the Messiah? We throw these suggestions out lightly, by -way of hint; a graver consideration of them would belong rather to our -Table than to our Easy Chair discourses. - - * * * * * - -As a sort of pendant to the nine-days' talk of the Forrest divorce -case, we notice the unanimous verdict of approval which has been -accorded to the exemplary damages awarded in the case of a savage and -cowardly assault committed by one of the principals in that scandalous -affair. Though no pecuniary award can make reparation to the person who -has suffered the infliction of brutal personal outrage, yet as long as -there are ruffians whose only susceptible point is the pocket-nerve, we -are glad to see the actual cautery applied to that sensitive point. - - * * * * * - -If things continue much longer in their present downward course, it will -be necessary for any man who hopes to gain acceptance in respectable -society to have it distinctly noted on his cards and letters of -introduction, that he is not a Member of either House of Congress. The -last month has been signalized at Washington by several exhibitions of -Congressional scurrility, which in no other city in the Union would have -been tolerated beyond the limits of the lowest dens of infamy. In one of -these affairs, the summit of impudence was crowned by one of the -interlocutors, who, after giving and receiving the most abusive -epithets, excused himself from having recourse to the duello, that -_ultima ratio_--of fools--on the plea that he was a member of a -Christian church; which plea was magnanimously accepted by his no less -chivalrous compeer in abuse. It would be no easy task to decide which -was the most disreputable, the "satisfaction" evaded, or the means of -its evasion. - - * * * * * - -This is not the place to discuss the stringent "Maine Liquor Law," which -is proposed for adoption in the Empire State; but we can not avoid -chronicling the almost sublime assumption of one of its opponents, who -challenged its advocates to name any man of lofty genius who was not a -"toddy-drinker." As this side of the measure seems sadly in want of both -speakers and arguments, we consider ourselves entitled to the gratitude -of the opponents of the law, for insinuating to them that the defense of -punch by Fielding's hero, that it was "a good wholesome liquor, nowhere -spoken against in Scripture," is capable of almost indefinite extension -and application. - - * * * * * - -A somewhat characteristic reminiscence of JOHN NEWLAND MAFFITT has been -lying for a long while in our mind; and we can not do better than accord -to it the honors of paper and ink. It happened years ago, when that -eccentric preacher was in the height of his reputation; when he was, or -at least thought he was in earnest; before the balance of his mind had -been destroyed by adulation, conceit, vanity, and something worse. - -During these days, in one of his journeyings, he came to a place on the -Mississippi--perhaps its name was not _Woodville_, but that shall be its -designation for the occasion. Now, Woodville was the most notoriously -corrupt place on the whole river; it was the sink into which all the -filth of the surrounding country was poured; it was shunned like a -pest-house, and abandoned to thieves, gamblers, desperadoes, and -robbers. - -Maffitt determined to labor in this uninviting field. He commenced -preaching, and soon gathered an audience; for preaching was something -new there; and besides, Maffitt's silvery tones and strange flashes of -eloquence would at that time attract an audience any where. Those who -knew the man only in his later years know nothing of him. - -Day after day he preached, but all to no purpose. He portrayed the bliss -of heaven--its purity and peace--in his most rapt and glowing manner. -It was the last place which could have any charms for his Woodville -audience. - -He portrayed the strife and turmoil of the world of woe. Apart from its -physical torments--and they felt a sort of wild pride in defying -these--they rather liked the picture. At all events, it was much more to -their taste than was his description of heaven. - -So it went on, day after day. Not a sigh of penitence; not a wet eye; -not a single occupant of the anxious seat. His labors were fruitless. - -Finally, he determined upon a change of tactics. He spoke of the decay -of Woodville; how it was falling behind every other town on the -river--"Oh!" said he, "might but the Angel of Mercy be sent forth from -before the Great White Throne, commissioned to proclaim to all the -region round that there was a revival in Woodville, and what a change -there would be! The people would flock here from every quarter; the hum -of business would be heard in your streets; the steamers, whose bright -wheels now go flashing past your wharf, would stay in their fleet -career; these dense forests, which now lour around, would be hewn down -and piled up for food for these vast leviathans; and thus a golden tide -would pour in upon you; and Woodville would become the wealthiest, the -most beautiful, and the happiest place on the banks of the great Father -of Waters!" - -A chord had been touched in the hitherto insensible hearts of the -Woodvillers. Thought, emotion, feeling, were aroused; and soon the -strange electric sympathy of mind with mind was excited. The emotion -spread and increased; the anxious seats were thronged; and a powerful, -and to all appearance genuine revival of religion ensued. The character -of Woodville was entirely changed; and from that time it has continued -to be one of the most moral, quiet, thriving, and prosperous of all the -minor towns upon the Mississippi. - - * * * * * - -Turning our eye Paris-ward, our first emotion is one of sorrow--for -their sakes and our own--at the present sad fate of our French brethren -of the quill. The bayonet has pitted itself against the pen, and has -come off victor--for the time being. The most immediate sufferers are -doubtless political writers, who must stretch their lucubrations upon -the Procrustean bed furnished by the Prince-President. But the sparkling -_feuilletonists_ who blow up such brilliant bubbles of romance from the -prosaic soap-and-water of every-day life, can not escape. How can Fancy -have free play when the Fate-like shears of the _Censure_ or the mace of -the new press-law are suspended over its head? Besides, the lynx-eye of -despotism may detect a covert political allusion in the most -finely-wrought romance of domestic life. The delicate touches by which -the _feuilletonist_ sought to depict the fate of the deserted girl whose -body was fished up from the Seine, may be thought to bear too strongly -upon the fate of poor LIBERTÉ, betrayed and deserted by her quondam -adorer, the Nephew of his Uncle; in which case, the writer would find -himself forced to repent of his pathos behind the gratings of a cell, -while his publisher's pocket would suffer the forfeiture of the -'caution-money.' Parisian gossip can not, under such circumstances, -furnish us any thing very lively, but must content itself with -chronicling the brilliant but tiresome receptions of the Elysée. - -An occasional claw is however protruded through the velvet paws upon -which French society creeps along so daintily in these critical days, -showing that the propensity to scratch is not extinct, though for the -present, as far as the President and his doings are concerned, "I dare -not waits upon I would" in the cat-like Parisian salon life. - - * * * * * - -The subject of gossip most thoroughly French in its character, which has -of late days passed current, is one of which the final scene was Genoa, -and the prominent actor unfortunately an American. We touch upon the -leading points of this as they pass current from lip to lip. - -Our readers have no great cause of regret if they have never before -heard of, or have entirely forgotten, a certain so-called "Chevalier" -WYKOFF, who, a few years since, gained an unenviable notoriety, in -certain circles in this country, as the personal attendant of the famous -_danseuse_, FANNY ELSSLER. Since that time the Chevalier has -occasionally shown his head above water in connection with Politics, -Literature, Fashion, and Frolic. - -In due course of years the Chevalier grew older if not wiser, and became -anxious to assume the responsibilities of a wife--provided that she was -possessed of a fortune. It chanced that, about these times, a lady whom -he had known for many years, without having experienced any touches of -the tender passion, was left an orphan with a large fortune. The -sympathizing Chevalier was prompt with his condolences at her -irreparable loss, and soon established himself in the character of -confidential friend. - -The lady decides to visit the Continent to recruit her shattered health. -The Chevalier--sympathizing friend that he is--is at once convinced that -there is for him no place like the Continent. - -Having watched the pear till he supposed it fully ripe, the ex-squire to -the _danseuse_ proposed to shake the tree. One evening he announced that -he must depart on the morrow, and handed the lady a formidable document, -which he requested her to read, and to advise him in respect to its -contents. - -The document proved to be a letter to another lady, a friend of both -parties, announcing a deliberate intention of offering his fine person, -though somewhat the worse for wear, to the lady who was reading the -letter addressed to her friend. This proposal in the third person met -with little favor, and the Chevalier received a decided negative in the -second person. - -The Chevalier, however, saw too many solid charms in the object of his -passion to yield the point so easily. The lady returns to London, and -lo! there is the Chevalier. She flees to Paris, and thither he hies. She -hurries to Switzerland, and one morning as she looks out of the Hospice -of St. Bernard, she is greeted with the Chevalier's most finished bow of -recognition. She walks by the Lake of Geneva, and her shadow floats upon -its waters by the side of that of her indefatigable adorer. He watches -his opportunity and seizes her hand, muttering low words of love and -adoration; and as a company of pleasure-seekers to whom they are known -approaches, he raises his voice so as to be heard, and declares that he -will not release the hand until he receives a promise of its future -ownership. Bewildered and confused, the lady whispers a "Yes," and is -for the moment set at liberty. No sooner is she fairly rid of him than -she retracts her promise, and forbids her adorer the house. - -She again flies to the Continent to avoid him. He follows upon her -track, bribes couriers and servants all along her route, and finally -manages at Genoa to get her into a house which he declares to be full of -his dependents. He locks the door, and declares that marry him she must -and shall. She refuses, and makes an outcry. He seizes her and tries to -_soothe_ her with chloroform. Once more she is frightened into a -consent. - -But the Chevalier is now determined to make assurance doubly sure; and -demands a written agreement to marry him, under penalty of the -forfeiture of half her fortune, in case of refusal. To this the lady -consents: and the ardent admirer leaves the room to order a carriage to -convey her to her hotel. She seizes the opportunity to make her escape. - -On the day following, the adventurous Chevalier involuntarily makes the -acquaintance of the Intendant of Police, and finds that his "bold stroke -for a wife" is like to entail upon him certain disagreeable consequences -in the shape of abundant opportunity for reflection, while a compulsory -guest of the public authorities of Genoa. - -Ought not the Chevalier WYKOFF to have been a Frenchman? - - - - -Editor's Drawer. - - -The following anecdote of a legal gentleman of Missouri, was compiled -many years ago from a newspaper of that State. There is a racy freshness -about it that is quite delightful: - -Being once opposed to Mr. S----, then lately a member of Congress, he -remarked as follows to the jury, upon some point of disagreement between -them: - -"Here my brother S---- and I differ materially. Now this, after all, is -very natural. Men seldom see things in the same light; and they may -disagree in opinion upon the simplest principles of the law, and that -very honestly; while, at the same time, neither, perhaps, can perceive -any earthly reason why they should. And this is merely because they look -at different sides of the subject, and do not view it in all its -bearings. - -"Now, let us suppose, for the sake of illustration, that a man should -come into this court-room, and boldly assert that my brother S----'s -head" (here he laid his hand very familiarly upon the large -"chuckle-head" of his opponent) "is _a squash_! I, on the other hand, -should maintain, and perhaps with equal confidence, that it was _a -head_. Now, here would be difference--doubtless an honest difference--of -opinion. We might argue about it till doom's-day, and never agree. You -often see men arguing upon subjects just as _empty_ and trifling as -this! But a third person coming in, and looking at the neck and -shoulders that support it, would say at once that I had reason on my -side; for if it was _not_ a head, it at least occupied the _place_ of -one: it stood where a head _ought_ to be!" - -All this was uttered in the gravest and most solemn manner imaginable, -and the effect was irresistibly ludicrous. - - * * * * * - -Washington Irving, in one of his admirable sketches of Dutch character, -describes an old worthy, with a long eel-skin queue, a sort of covering -that was "a potent nourisher and strengthener of the hair." This was in -"other times;" and here is a "Tail" of that remote period: - - "A Tale I'll tell of "other times," - Because I'm in the mind: - You may have seen the tale before, - I've seen it oft behind. - - "There's no detraction in this tale, - Nor any vile attack, - Or slander when 'tis told, although - It goes behind one's back. - - "Impartial auditors it had, - Who ne'er began to rail, - Because there always was an ear - For both sides of the tale. - - "But oh, alas! I have forgot, - I am not in the queue; - The tale has just dropped from my head. - As it was wont to do!" - - * * * * * - -A clergyman in one of our New England villages once preached a sermon, -which one of his auditors commended. - -"Yes," said a gentleman to whom it was mentioned, "it _was_ a good -sermon, but he _stole_ it!" - -This was told to the preacher. He resented it, at once, and called upon -his parishioner to retract what he had said. - -"I am not," replied the aggressor, "very apt to retract any thing I may -have said, for I usually weigh my words before I speak them. But in this -instance I will retract. I said you had stolen the sermon. I find, -however, that I was wrong; for on returning home, and referring to the -book whence I thought it had been taken, I found it there, word for -word!" - -The angry clergyman "left the presence," with an apparent consciousness -that he had made very little by his "motion." - - * * * * * - -We gave in a late "Drawer" some rather frightful statistics concerning -snuff-takers and tobacco-chewers: we have now "the honor to present" -some curious characteristics of the kinds of _materiel_ which have -regaled the nostrils of so many persons who were "up to snuff." - -Lundy Foot, the celebrated snuff-manufacturer, originally kept a small -tobacconist's shop at Limerick, Ireland. One night his house, which was -uninsured, was burnt to the ground. As he contemplated the smoking ruins -on the following morning, in a state bordering on despair, some of the -poor neighbors, groping among the embers for what they could find, -stumbled upon several canisters of unconsumed but half-baked snuff, -which they tried, and found so grateful to their noses, that they loaded -their waistcoat pockets with the spoil. - -Lundy Foot, roused from his stupor, at length imitated their example, -and took a pinch of his own property, when he was instantly struck by -the superior pungency and flavor it had acquired from the great heat to -which it had been exposed. Treasuring up this valuable hint, he took -another house in a place called "Black-Yard," and, preparing a large -oven for the purpose, set diligently about the manufacture of that -high-dried commodity, which soon became widely known as "Black-Yard -Snuff;" a term subsequently corrupted into the more familiar word, -"Blackguard." - -Lundy Foot, making his customers pay liberally through the nose for one -of the most "distinguished" kinds of snuffs in the world, soon raised -the price of his production, took a larger house in the city of Dublin, -and was often heard to say, - -"I made a very handsome fortune by being, as I supposed, utterly -ruined!" - - * * * * * - -Somebody has described Laughter as "a faculty bestowed exclusively upon -man," and one which there is, therefore, a sort of impiety in not -exercising as frequently as we can. One may say, with Titus, that we -have "lost a day," if it shall have passed without laughing, "An inch of -laugh is worth an ell of moan in any state of the market," says one of -the old English "Fathers." Pilgrims at the shrine of Mecca consider -laughter so essential a part of their devotion that they call upon their -prophet to preserve them from sad faces. - -"Ah!" cried Rabelais, with an honest pride, as his friends were weeping -around his sick bed; "if I were to die ten times over, I should never -make you cry half so much as I have made you laugh!" - -After all, if laughter be genuine, and consequently a means of innocent -enjoyment, _can_ it be inept? - - * * * * * - -Taylor, an English author, relates in his "Records," that having -restored to sight a boy who had been born blind, the lad was perpetually -amusing himself with a hand-glass, calling his own reflection his -"little man," and inquiring why he could make it do every thing he did, -_except to shut its eyes_. A French lover, making a present of a mirror -to his mistress, sent with it the following lines: - - "This mirror _my_ object of love will unfold, - Whensoe'er your regard it allures; - Oh, would, when I'm gazing, that might behold - On its surface the object of _yours_!" - -This is very delicate and pretty; but the following -old epigram, on the same subject, is in even a much -finer strain: - - "When I revolve this evanescent state, - How fleeting is its form, how short its date; - My being and my stay dependent still - Not on my own, but on another's will: - I ask myself, as I my image view, - Which is the real shadow of the two?" - - * * * * * - -It is a little singular, but it is true, that scarcely any native writer -has succeeded better in giving what is termed the true "Yankee dialect," -than a foreigner, an Englishman, Judge Haliburton, of Nova Scotia, "Sam -Slick." Hear him describe a pretty, heartless bar-maid, whom he met at -the "Liner's Hotel, in Liverpool:" - -"What a tall, well-made, handsome piece of furniture she is, ain't she, -though? Look at her hair--ain't it neat? And her clothes fit so well, -and her cap is so white, and her complexion so clear, and she looks so -good-natured, and smiles so sweet, it does one good to look at her. -She's a whole team and a horse to spare, that's a fact. I go and call -for three or four more glasses than I want, every day, just for the sake -of talking to her. She always says, - -"'What will you be pleased to have, sir!' - -"'Something,' says I, 'that I can't have,' looking at her pretty -mouth--about the wickedest. - -"Well, she laughs, for she knows well enough what I mean; and she says, - -"'Pr'aps you'll have a glass of bitters, sir,' and off she goes to get -it. - -"Well, this goes on three or four times a day; every time the identical -same tune, only with variations. It wasn't a great while afore I was -there agin. - -"'What will you be pleased to have, sir?' said she agin, laughin'. - -"'Something I can't git,' says I, a-laughin' too, and lettin' off sparks -from my eyes like a blacksmith's chimney. - -"'You can't tell that till you try,' says she; 'but you can have your -bitters at any rate;' and she goes agin and draws a glass, and gives it -to me. - -"Now she's seen _you_ before, and knows you very well. Just you go to -her and see how nicely she'll curtshy, how pretty she'll smile, and how -lady-like she'll say, - -"'How do you do, sir? I hope you are quite well, sir? Have you just -arrived? Here, chamber-maid, show this gentleman up to Number Two -Hundred. Sorry, sir, we are so full, but to-morrow we will move you into -a better room. Thomas, take up this gentleman's luggage.' And then -she'd curtshy agin, and smile so handsome! - -"Don't that look well, now? Do you want any thing better than that? If -you do, you are hard to please, that's all. But stop a little: don't be -in such an almighty, everlastin' hurry. Think afore you speak. Go there, -agin, see her a-smilin' once more, and look clust. It's only skin-deep; -just on the surface, like a cat's-paw on the water; it's nothin' but a -rimple like, and no more. Then look cluster still, and you'll discarn -the color of it. You laugh at the 'color' of a smile, but do you -_watch_, and you'll _see_ it. - -"Look, _now_; don't you see the color of the shilling there? It's white, -and cold, and silvery: _it's a boughten smile_, and a boughten smile, -like an artificial flower, hain't got no sweetness into it. It's like -whipt cream; open your mouth wide; take it all in, and shut your lips -down tight, and it ain't nothin'. It's only a mouthful of moonshine, -a'ter all." - -Sam goes on to say that a smile can easily be counterfeited; but that -the eye, rightly regarded, can not deceive. - -"Square, the first railroad that was ever made, was made by Natur. It -runs strait from the heart to the eye, and it goes so almighty fast it -can't be compared to nothin' but 'iled lightning. The moment the heart -opens its doors, out jumps an emotion, whips into the car, and offs, -like wink, to the eye. That's the station-house and terminus for the -passengers, and every passenger carries a lantern in his hand, as bright -as an argand lamp; you can see him ever so far off. - -"Look to _the eye_, Square: if there ain't no lamp there, no soul leaves -the heart that hitch: there ain't no train runnin', and the -station-house is empty. Smiles can be put on and off, like a wig; sweet -expressions come and go like lights and shades in natur; the hands will -squeeze like a fox-trap; the body bends most graceful; the ear will be -most attentive; the manner will flatter, so you're enchanted; and the -tongue will lie like the devil: _but the eye never_. - -"But, Square, there's all sorts of eyes. There's an onmeanin' eye, and -a cold eye; a true eye and a false eye; a sly eye, a kickin' eye, a -passionate eye, a revengeful eye, a man[oe]uvring eye, a joyous eye, and -a sad eye; a squintin' eye, and the evil-eye; and more'n all, the dear -little lovin' eye. They must all be studied to be larnt; but the two -important ones to be known are the true eye and the false eye." - -An American writer, somewhat more distinguished as a philosopher and -psychologist than Mr. Slick, contends that the "practiced eye" may often -deceive the most acute observer, but that there is something in the play -of the lines about the mouth, the shades of emotion developed by the -least change in the expression of the lips, that defies the strictest -self-control. We leave both theories with the reader. - - * * * * * - -That was a pleasant story, told of an English wit, of very pleasant -memory, who was no mean proficient in "turning the tables" upon an -opponent, when he found himself losing. On one occasion he was rapidly -losing ground in a literary discussion, when the opposite party -exclaimed: - -"My good friend, you are not such a rare scholar as you imagine; you are -only an _every-day_ man." - -"Well, and you are a _week_ one," replied the other; who instantly -jumped upon the back of a horse-laugh, and rode victoriously over his -prostrate conqueror. - - * * * * * - -We know not the author of the following lines, nor how, or at what time, -they came to find a place in the "Drawer;" but there is no reader who -will not pronounce them very touching and beautiful: - - I am not old--I can not be old, - Though three-score years and ten - Have wasted away like a tale that is told, - The lives of other men - - I am not old--though friends and foes - Alike have gone to their graves; - And left me alone to my joys or my woes, - As a rock in the midst of the waves - - I am not old--I can not be old, - Though tottering, wrinkled, and gray; - Though my eyes are dim, and my marrow is cold, - Call me not old to-day! - - For early memories round me throng, - Of times, and manners, and men; - As I look behind on my journey so long, - Of three-score miles and ten. - - I look behind and am once more young, - Buoyant, and brave, and bold; - And _my heart_ can sing, as of yore it sung, - Before they called me old. - - I do not see her--the old wife there-- - Shriveled, and haggard, and gray; - But I look on her blooming, soft, and fair, - As she was on her wedding-day. - - I do not see you, daughters and sons, - In the likeness of women and men; - But I kiss you now as I kissed you once - My fond little children then. - - And as my own grandson rides on my knee, - Or plays with his hoop or kite, - I can well recollect I was merry as he, - The bright-eyed little wight! - - 'Tis not long since--it can not be long, - My years so soon were spent, - Since I was a boy, both straight and strong. - But now I am feeble and bent. - - A dream, a dream--it is all a dream! - A strange, sad dream, good sooth; - For old as I am, and old as I seem, - My heart is full of youth. - - Eye hath not seen, tongue hath not told, - And ear hath not heard it sung, - How buoyant and bold, tho' it seem to grow old, - Is the heart forever young! - - Forever young--though life's old age, - Hath every nerve unstrung; - The heart, _the heart_ is a heritage, - That keeps the old man young! - - * * * * * - -That is a good story told of an empty coxcomb, who, after having -engrossed the attention of the company for some time with himself and -his petty ailments, observed to the celebrated caustic Dr. Parr, that he -could never go out without catching cold in his head. - -"No wonder," said the doctor, rather pettishly; "you always go out -without any thing in it!" - -We have heard somewhere of another of the same stamp, who imagined -himself to be a poet, and who said to "Nat. Lee," whose insane verse was -much in vogue at the time: - -"It is not easy to write like a madman, as you do." - -"No," was the reply; "but it is very easy to write like _a fool_, as -_you_ do!" - -There was some "method" in the "madness" that dictated that cutting -rejoinder, at any rate. - - * * * * * - -"I was once a sea-faring man," said an old New York ship-master one day, -to a friend in "The Swamp," "and my first voyage was to the East Indies. -To keep me from mischief, the mate used to set me picking oakum, or -ripping up an old sail for 'parceling,' as it was called. While engaged -one day at this last employment, it occurred to me that a small piece of -the sail would answer an admirable purpose in mending my duck -over-trowsers, as they were beginning to be rather tender in certain -places, owing, perhaps, to my sitting down so much. I soon appropriated -a small piece, but was detected by the mate while 'stowing it away.' - -"He took it from me, and while he was lecturing me, the captain, a noble -fellow, with a human heart in his bosom, came on deck, when the whole -matter was laid before him. - -"'A----,' said he, 'always _ask_ for what you want; if it is _denied_ to -you, then steal it, if you think proper.' - -"I remembered his advice; and in a short time afterward had another -piece of canvas snugly 'stowed away.' I carried it forward, and gave it -to my 'chummy,' an old 'salt,' who had the charge of my wardrobe (which -consisted of six pairs of duck-trowsers, the same number of red-flannel -shirts, a Scotch woolen cap, and a fine-tooth comb), and performed my -mending. - -"The next day I went on deck with a clean pair of trowsers on, neatly -patched. As I was going forward the captain hailed me: - -"'You took that piece of canvas, sir!' - -"'Yes, captain,' I replied, 'I _did_. You yourself told me to ask, and -if I was refused, to do the _other_ thing. I was refused, and _did_ do -the 'other thing.'' - -"'Well,' rejoined the captain, 'I have no great objection to your having -the canvas, but let me tell you that you will never make a sailor if you -carry your flying-jib over the stern!' - -"My 'chummy,' sewing from the inside, had 'seated' my trowsers with a -piece of canvas marked 'F. JIB!"' - - * * * * * - -There used to be quite popular, many years ago, a species of -letter-writing in poetry, in accomplishing which much ingenuity was -tasked and much labor expended. The ensuing lines are a good example of -this kind of composition by comic writers who have not sufficiently -advanced in joking to get "out of their _letters_." The lines were -addressed to Miss Emma Vee, who had a pet jay, of which she was very -fond: - - "Your jay is fond, which well I know, - He does S A to prove; - And he can talk, I grant, but O! - He can not talk of love. - - "Believe me, M A, when I say, - I dote to that X S, - I N V even that pet J, - Which U sometimes caress. - - "Though many other girls I know, - And they are fair, I C, - Yet U X L them all, and so - I love but M A V. - - "M A, my love can ne'er D K, - Except when I shall die; - And if your heart _must_ say me nay, - Just write and tell me Y!" - - * * * * * - -The following "_Welsh Card of Invitation_" is a very amusing example of -the avoidance of pronouns: - -"Mr. Walter Morton, and Mrs. Walter Morton, and Miss Sandys's -compliments to Mr. Charles Morgan, Mrs. Charles Morgan, Miss Charles -Morgan, and the Governess (whose name Mr. Walter Morton, Mrs. Walter -Morton, and Miss Sandys do not recollect), and Mr. Walter Morton, Mrs. -Walter Morton, and Miss Sandys request the favor of the company of Mr. -Charles Morgan, Mrs. Charles Morgan, Miss Charles Morgan, and the -Governess (whose name Mr. Walter Morton, Mrs. Walter Morton, and Miss -Sandys do not recollect), to dinner on Monday next. - -"_Mr. Walter Morton_, _Mrs. Walter Morton_, and Miss Sandys, beg to -inform Mr. Charles Morgan, Mrs. Charles Morgan, Miss Charles Morgan, and -the Governess (whose name Mr. Walter Morton, Mrs. Walter Morton, and -Miss Sandys do not recollect), that Mr. Walter Morton, Mrs. Walter -Morton, and Miss Sandys can accommodate Mr. Charles Morgan, Mrs. Charles -Morgan, Miss Charles Morgan, and the Governess (whose name Mr. Walter -Morton, Mrs. Walter Morton, and Miss Sandys do not recollect), with -beds, if remaining through the night is agreeable to Mr. Charles Morgan, -Mrs. Charles Morgan, Miss Charles Morgan, and the Governess (whose name -Mr. Walter Morton, Mrs. Walter Morton, and Miss Sandys do not -recollect!)" - -This is an exact copy of an authentic note of invitation to a -dinner-party. In point of roundaboutativeness, it is on a par with the -long legal papers which used to be served upon pecuniary delinquents. - - * * * * * - -If you would enjoy a bit of most natural and felicitous description, -read the following by that classical and witty writer--no longer, with -sorrow be it spoken, of this world--the author of "The American in -Paris." The passage has been in the "Drawer" for many years: - -"There is a variety of little trades and industries which derive their -chief means of life from the wants and luxuries of the street; I mean -trades that are unknown in any other country than Paris. You will see an -individual moving about at all hours of the night, silent and active, -and seizing the smallest bit of paper in the dark, where you can see -nothing; and with a hook in the end of a stick, picking it up, and -pitching it with amazing dexterity into a basket tied to his left -shoulder; with a cat-like walk, being every where and nowhere at the -same time, stirring up the rubbish of every nook and gutter of the -street, under your very nose. This is the 'Chiffonier.' He is a very -important individual. He is in matter what Pythagoras was in mind; and -his transformations are scarcely less curious than those of the Samian -sage. The beau, by his pains, peruses once again his worn-out dicky or -cravat, of a morning, in the 'Magazin des Modes;' while the politician -has his linen breeches reproduced in the 'Journal des Debats;' and many -a fine lady pours out her soul upon a _billet-doux_ that was once a -dish-cloth. The 'chiffonier' stands at the head of the little trades, -and is looked up to with envy by the others. He has two coats, and on -holidays wears a chain and quizzing-glass. He rises, too, like the Paris -gentry, when the chickens roost, and when the lark cheers the morning, -goes to bed. - -"All the city is divided into districts, and let out to these -'chiffoniers' by the hour; to one from ten to eleven, and from eleven to -twelve to another, and so on through the night; so that several get a -living and consideration from the same district. This individual does -justice to the literary compositions of the day. He crams into his bag -indiscriminately the last vaudeville, the last sermon of the Archbishop, -and the last essay of the Academy. - -"Just below the 'chiffonier' is the 'Gratteur.' This artist scratches -the livelong day between the stones of the pavement for old nails from -horses' shoes, and other bits of iron; always in hope of a bit of -silver, and even perhaps a bit of gold; more happy in his hope than a -hundred others in the possession. He has a store, or 'magazin,' in the -Faubourgs, where he deposits his ferruginous treasure. His wife keeps -this store, and is a '_Marchande de Fer_.' He maintains a family, like -another man; one or two of his sons he brings up to scratch for a -living, and the other he sends to college; and he has a lot 'in -perpetuity' in Père la Chaise. His rank, however, is inferior to that of -the 'chiffonier,' who will not give him his daughter in marriage, and he -don't ask him to his _soirées_." - - * * * * * - -A sad and "harrowing" event (after the manner of "the horrid" poetical -school), is recorded in the subjoined wild "Fragment:" - - "His eye was stern and wild; his cheek - Was pale and cold as clay; - Upon his tightened lip a smile - Of fearful meaning lay: - - "He mused awhile, but not in doubt; - No trace of doubt was there; - It was the steady, solemn pause - Of resolute despair! - - "Once more he looked upon the scroll, - Once more its words he read; - Then calmly, with unflinching hand, - Its folds before him spread. - - "I saw him bare his throat, and seize - The blue, cold-gleaming steel, - And grimly try the temper'd edge - He was so soon to feel! - - "A sickness crept upon my heart, - And dizzy swam my head: - I could not stir, I could not cry, - I felt benumbed and dead! - - "Black icy horrors struck me dumb, - And froze my senses o'er: - I closed my eyes in utter fear, - And strove to think no more! - - * * * * * - - "Again I looked: a fearful change - Across his face had passed; - He seemed to rave:--on cheek and lip - A flaky foam was cast. - - "He raised on high the glittering blade; - Then first I found a tongue: - 'Hold! madman! stay the frantic deed! - I cried, and forth I sprung: - - "He heard me, but he heeded not: - One glance around he gave: - And ere I could arrest his hand, - He had--BEGUN TO SHAVE!" - -We can recall some half-dozen specimens of this style of writing; one, -at least, of which, from an erratic American poet, must be familiar to -the general reader. - - - - -Literary Notices. - - -_Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli._ (Published by Phillips, Sampson, -and Co.) The subject of these volumes has left a reputation for strength -and brilliancy of intellect which, we imagine, will hardly be justified -hereafter by the perusal of her writings. No one, however, can read this -touching tribute to her memory without perceiving that she was a -remarkable woman. It at once explains the secret of her success, and of -her want of general recognition. From her early childhood, she displayed -a wonderful precocity of genius. This was stimulated by constant mental -inebriation, produced by the excitements of an ambitious and ill-judged -education. Her girlish studies were devoted to subjects which demanded -the mature experience of a masculine intellect. Deprived of the frolic -delights of childhood, a woman in cultivation while young in years, -goaded to the wildest intensity of effort by the urgency of an exacting -parent, and attaining an extraordinary mental development at the expense -of her physical nature, she must, of course, soon have become the object -of marked attention and wonder--a prodigy to her friends, and a mystery -to herself. Thus she was early placed in a false position. She grew up -self-involved, her diseased mind preying on itself, and the -consciousness of her personal importance assumed a gigantic magnitude, -which threatened to overshadow all healthy manifestations of character. -In this condition, she was accustomed to claim more than she could -give--more than others were content to grant. The loftiness of her -self-esteem was the measure of her lavish disdain. Hence, with the -exception of those with whom chance had made her intimate, she was more -formidable than attractive to the circle of her acquaintance; her -presence in society called forth aversion or terror; as she dispensed -the scathing splendors of her Jove-like lightnings, rather than the -sweet refreshments of womanhood. But beneath this social despotism, were -concealed a genuine kindliness of nature, a large sympathizing heart, a -singular power of entering into the condition of others, and a weird -magnetic charm which drew to her closest intimacy the most opposite -characters. She was, moreover, generous and noble to an uncommon degree, -in all the more sacred relations of life; with a high sense of duty; -never shrinking from sacrifices; a wise and faithful counselor where her -confidence was invoked; absolutely free from every trait of petty or -sordid passion; the very soul of honor; and with a sense of justice that -seemed to ally her with Eternal Truth.--In these volumes, she is left in -a great measure to speak for herself. Her letters and private journals -present a transparent record of her character. The editorial portion, by -R. W. Emerson, James F. Clarke, and W. H. Channing, is executed with -beautiful candor. The most truthful simplicity graces and fortifies -their statements. With no other aim than to exhibit an honest -portraiture of their friend, they have in no case, that we can discover, -allowed their private feelings to gain the mastery over their sterner -judgments.--Her residence in Italy reveals her heroism, devotion, and -womanly tenderness, in a light that would almost induce the belief, on -the part of those who had met her only in the antagonisms of society, -that she had changed her identity. A profound, mysterious pathos hovers -around her Italian experience, preparing the reader for the tragic close -of a life, which was itself a tragedy. The description of her last hours -presents a scene of desolation, before which grief can only bow in mute -tears. - -_Charity and its Fruits_, by JONATHAN EDWARDS, edited by TRYON EDWARDS. -A new work from the pen of the illustrious Northampton pastor can not -fail to be welcome to the admirers of his profound and original genius. -Combining a rare acuteness of metaphysical speculation, with a glowing -fervor of religious sentiment, Edwards has called forth the most -expressive eulogiums from the philosophers of the old world, while his -name is still "familiar as a household word" in the primitive homes of -New England. His character presented a striking union of intellectual -vigor with earnest piety. The childlike simplicity of his tastes was -blended with the refined subtlety of a mediæval schoolman. The apostle -of disinterested love, his soul was inspired and thrilled with -contemplating the glories of redemption, and the triumphs of grace over -the ruins of humanity The Lectures contained in this volume are devoted -to his favorite theme. They illustrate the principle of love as the -foundation of the Christian character, and the expression of -reconciliation with the Lord. In the high standard of duty which they -present, in their deep and comprehensive views of human nature, and in -the force and sweetness of their style, they compare favorably with the -standard productions of their author, and are certainly not surpassed by -any religious treatise of modern times. - -The manuscripts from which these lectures have been prepared were nearly -ready for the press, as left by the writer. They were afterward placed -in the charge of Dr. Hopkins and Dr. Bellamy, and are now for the first -time given to the public by the present editor. He justly deserves the -gratitude of the religious world for this valuable gift. (Published by -R. Carter and Brothers). - -Harper and Brothers have issued a neat octavo edition of Sir JOHN -RICHARDSON'S _Arctic Searching Expedition_, comprising a copious journal -of a boat-voyage through Rupert's Land and the Arctic Sea, in search of -Sir John Franklin--a variety of interesting details concerning the -savages of that region--and an elaborate treatise on the physical -geography of North America. Sir John Richardson left Liverpool in March, -1848, and after landing in New York, proceeded at once to the Saut Ste. -Marie, where he arrived about the last of April. Starting in a few days -from the Saut, he reached the mouth of the River Winnipeg on the 29th of -May, and arrived at Cumberland House, on the Saskatchewan, June 13--a -distance of nearly 3000 miles from New York. His various adventures on -the overland route to Fort Confidence, in 66 degrees of north latitude, -where the winter residence of the party was established, are related -with great minuteness, presenting a lively picture of the manners of the -Indians, and the physical phenomena of the icy North. The history of Sir -John Franklin's Expedition, and the present state of the search for that -intrepid navigator, is briefly recorded. With the prevailing interest in -every thing connected with Arctic discovery, this volume is a most -seasonable publication, and will be read with avidity by our intelligent -countrymen. - -_The Future Wealth of America_, by FRANCIS BONYNGE, is a volume of -curious interest, describing the physical resources of the United -States, and the commercial and agricultural advantages of introducing -several new branches of cultivation. Among the products enumerated by -the author as adapted to the soil and climate of this country are tea, -coffee, and indigo, the date, the orange, the peach fruit, and the -guava. The work, though written in an enthusiastic spirit, is filled -with practical details, and presents a variety of useful suggestions in -regard to the conditions of national prosperity. Mr. Bonynge is -familiarly acquainted with the culture of tropical products, having -resided for fourteen years in India and China. His book is -well-deserving the attention of the American public. - -The Twenty-second Part of COPLAND'S _Dictionary of Practical Medicine_ -is published by Harper and Brothers, reaching to the eight hundredth -page of the third volume of the work, and to the commencement of the -letter S. For laymen who have occasion to refer to a medical work, this -Dictionary forms a valuable book of reference, and may be consulted with -convenience and profit. Its merits are too well known to the profession -to demand comment. - -_A Reel in the Bottle, for Jack in the Doldrums_, by Rev. HENRY T. -CHEEVER. Modern allegory is a dangerous species of composition. The -taste of the age demands clearness, brevity, point; it prefers -practical facts to mystic symbols; and, above all, rejects artificial -tamperings with Oriental imagery. Imitations of the venerable simplicity -of the Bible are always offensive to a correct mind; and scarcely less -so is the ancient form of allegory disguised in fashionable trappings. -The volume now put forth by Mr. Cheever forms no exception to these -remarks. He has met with but indifferent success, in an attempt where a -perfect triumph would have brought little credit. The frequent -sacrifices of nature and good taste, which his plan demands, illustrate -his ingenuity at the expense of his judgment. He reminds us of John -Bunyan, whom he takes for his model, only by contrast. We should as soon -expect a modern Hamlet from Bulwer as a second Pilgrim's Progress from -the present author. (Published by Charles Scribner.) - -_The Head of the Family_, by the gifted author of "The Ogilvies," forms -the One Hundred and Sixty-seventh number of Harper's "Library of Select -Novels." It is distinguished for the absorbing interest of its plot, the -refinement and beauty of its characterizations, and its frequent scenes -of tenderness and pathos. - -NEANDER'S _Practical Exposition of the Epistle of James_ has been -translated by Mrs. H. C. CONANT, and published by Lewis Colby. We have -before spoken of the success of Mrs. Conant, as the translator of -Neander. She has accomplished her present task with equal felicity. -Biblical students are greatly in her debt for introducing them to the -acquaintance of such a profound and sympathizing interpreter of Holy -Writ. Neander wisely avoids metaphysical subtleties. Nor is he a barren, -verbal critic. He brings a sound, robust common sense to the exposition -of his subject, seeking to detect the living spirit of the writer, and -to reproduce it with genuine vitality. A new glow breathes over the -sacred page under his cordial, feeling comments, and we seem to be -brought into the most intimate communion with the inspired writer. It is -no small praise to say of the translator, that she has transferred this -lifesome spirit, to a great degree, into her own production. - -Redfield has published a spirited translation of ARSENE HOUSSAYE'S work -on the _Men and Women of the Eighteenth Century_ in France. A more -characteristic portraiture of that egotistic and voluptuous age is not -to be found in any language. It places us in the midst of the frivolous -court, where the love of pleasure had triumphed over natural sentiment, -where religion was lost in hypocrisy, and earnestness of character -laughed out of countenance by shameless adventurers. The brilliancy of -coloring in these volumes does not disguise the infamy of the persons -whom it celebrates. They are displayed in all their detestable -heartlessness, and present a wholesome warning to the reader by the -hideous ugliness of their example. - -BON GAULTIER'S _Book of Ballads_. These clever parodies and satires, -whose cool audacity and mischievous love of fun have secured them a -favorite place in the English magazines, have been republished in a neat -edition by Redfield. Our too thin-skinned compatriots may find something -to provoke their ire in the American Ballads, but the sly malice of -these effusions generally finds an antidote in their absurdity. For the -rest, Bon Gaultier may be called, in Yankee parlance, "a right smart -chap," excelling in a species of literature which the highest genius -rarely attempts. - - -We have a new edition of WALKER'S _Rhyming_ _Dictionary_ from Lindsay -and Blakiston--a welcome aid, no doubt, to scribblers in pursuit of -rhymes under difficulties. We hope it will not have the effect to -stimulate the crop of bad poetry, which of late has been such a nuisance -to honest readers. - - * * * * * - -MISS MITFORD, in her _Literary Recollections_ gives some specimens of -poetical charades by Mr. Praed, the most successful composer of lyrical -_jeux d'esprit_ of this kind. In the review of her work by the -_Athenæum_, the two following charades are quoted, the latter of which, -Miss Mitford says, is still a mystery to her, and proposes a solution to -her readers: - -I. - - "Come from my _First_, ay, come! - The battle dawn is nigh; - And the screaming trump and the thundering drum - Are calling thee to die! - Fight as thy father fought; - Fall as thy father fell; - Thy task is taught; thy shroud is wrought, - So; forward and farewell! - - "Toll ye my _Second_! toll! - Fling high the flambeau's light; - And sing the hymn for a parted soul - Beneath the silent night! - The wreath upon his head, - The cross upon his breast, - Let the prayer be said, and the tear be shed, - So,--take him to his rest! - - "Call ye my _Whole_, ay, call, - The lord of lute and lay; - And let him greet the sable pall - With a noble song to-day; - Go, call him by his name! - No fitter hand may crave - To light the flame of a soldier's fame - On the turf of a soldier's grave. - -II. - - "Sir Hilary charged at Agincourt,-- - Sooth 'twas an awful day! - And though in that old age of sport - The rufflers of the camp and court - Had little time to pray, - 'Tis said Sir Hilary muttered there - Two syllables by way of prayer. - - "My _First_ to all the brave and proud - Who see to-morrow's sun; - My _Next_ with her cold and quiet cloud - To those who find their dewy shroud - Before to-day's be done; - And both together to all blue eyes - That weep when a warrior nobly dies." - -A correspondent of the _Literary Gazette_ furnishes -the following poetical solution of the two charades -in one: - - "No more we hear the sentry's heavy tramp - Around the precincts of the drowsy _camp_; - All now is hush'd in calm and sweet repose, - And peaceful is the lovely evening's close; - Save when the village chimes the hours forth-tell, - Or parting souls demand the passing _bell_. - Would I could grasp a _Campbell's_ lyric pen! - I then might justice do to 'arms and men,' - And sing the well-fought field of Agincourt, - Where, hand to hand, mix'd in the bloody sport, - The hosts of France, vain of superior might, - By English valor were o'erthrown in fight, - And bade to fame and fortune long _Good Night_!" - - * * * * * - -Messrs. Clark of Edinburgh have in preparation, translations of the -following works: viz.--Dr. JULIUS MULLER'S great work on the _Doctrine -of Sin_, translated under the superintendence of the author.--Professor -MUSTON'S _Israel of the Alps_, the latest and most complete History of -the Waldenses, translated with the concurrence of the author.--DORNER on -the _Person of Christ_, translated by the Rev. Mr. KINGSFORD, one of -the Chaplains to the Hon. East India Company.--BENGEL'S _Gnomon of the -New Testament_, translated by the Rev. PETER HOLMES, of the Plymouth -Royal Grammar School. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Bohn announces the following important Works as about to appear -shortly: KIRBY and KIDD'S _Bridgewater Treatises_.--_Coin-Collector's -Hand-Book_, by H. N. HUMPHREYS, with numerous engravings of Ancient -Coins.--_Greek Anthology; or Select Epigrams of the Greek Classic -Poets_, literally translated into Prose, with occasional parallels in -verse by English Poets.--OERSTED'S _Soul in Nature_, and other works, -translated from the Danish, with Life of the Author.--_Rome in the 19th -Century_; with Maps and Diagrams.--KUGLER'S _Historical Manual of -Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture, Ancient and Modern_. - - * * * * * - -The election of the Greek Professor in the University of Edinburgh was -fixed for the 2d of March. The number of candidates in the field was -very large, but it was thought that many would retire before the day of -election. The principal struggle was supposed to be between Dr. William -Smith, of New College, London, the learned author of the Classical -Dictionaries; Dr. Price, late of Rugby, the friend of Dr. Arnold; -Professor Macdowall, of Queen's College, Belfast; and Professor Blackie, -of Aberdeen. The emoluments of the chair are upward of 800_l._, and the -college duties extend only over about half the year, during the winter -session from November to May. - - * * * * * - -Professor ROBINSON, our townsman, whose proposed expedition to Palestine -we lately announced, was at Berlin, at the latest accounts, and expects -to be at Beyrout on the 1st of March. He intends to occupy most of his -time in visiting the more remote districts of the country, and those -villages off the usual routes, which are least known to travelers. -Toward the completion of the topography and geography of Palestine, we -may expect many new facts to be thus obtained. One of the American -missionaries in Syria, the Rev. ELI SMITH, and Mr. WILLIAM DICKSON, of -Edinburgh, are to join Professor ROBINSON at Beyrout, and accompany him -in the journey. The identification of the site of the Holy Sepulchre, -about which there has been much dispute lately, is one object to which -special attention will be given. Dr. Robinson was in London, on his -route to the Continent, and attended the meetings of the Geographical -and other Societies. - - * * * * * - -The wife of Professor ROBINSON has recently published a protest in the -London _Athenæum_ against a garbled English edition of her work on the -Colonization of New England. Mrs. ROBINSON says, "A work appeared in -London last summer with the following title: 'Talvi's History of the -Colonization of America,' edited by William Hazlitt, in two volumes. It -seems proper to state that the original work was written under favorable -circumstances _in German_ and published in Germany. It treated only of -the colonization of _New England_:--and that only stood on its -title-page. The above English publication therefore, is a mere -translation--and it was made without the consent or knowledge of the -author. The very title is a misnomer; all references to authorities are -omitted; and the whole work teems with errors, not only of the press, -but also of translation--the latter such as could have been made by no -person well acquainted with the German and English tongues. For the work -in this form, therefore, the author can be in no sense whatever -responsible." - - * * * * * - -A late number of the _London Leader_ in a review of HERMAN MELVILLE'S -_Moby Dick, or the Whale_, says, "Want of originality has long been the -just and standing reproach to American literature; the best of its -writers were but second-hand Englishmen. Of late some have given -evidence of originality; not _absolute_ originality, but such genuine -outcoming of the American intellect as can be safely called national. -Edgar Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Herman Melville are assuredly no -British off-shoots; nor is Emerson--the _German_ American that he is! -The observer of this commencement of an American literature, properly so -called, will notice as significant that these writers have a wild and -mystic love of the super-sensual, peculiarly their own. To move a horror -skillfully, with something of the earnest faith in the Unseen, and with -weird imagery to shape these phantasms so vividly that the most -incredulous mind is hushed, absorbed--to do this no European pen has -apparently any longer the power--to do this American literature is -without a rival. What _romance_ writer can be named with HAWTHORNE? Who -knows the horrors of the seas like HERMAN MELVILLE?" - - * * * * * - -A bill has been introduced by the Lord Advocate for abolishing tests in -the Scottish universities for all professional chairs but those of the -theological faculties. At present every professor, before induction, is -required by law to sign the Westminster Confession of Faith, and the -other formularies of the Scottish Established Kirk. In many cases the -signature is not actually required, or it is given as a mere matter of -form. Many of the most distinguished professors in Scotland do not -belong to the Established Church of that country. - - * * * * * - -Count DE MONTALEMBERT'S formal reception as a Member of the Académie -Française took place on the 5th of February; and as an event of literary -and political importance, excited extraordinary sensation. The _salle_ -of the Academy was thronged to excess by the _élite_ of Parisian -society, and hundreds who had obtained tickets were unable to secure -admission. As usual on such occasions, the Count delivered an harangue, -the text of which was the merits, real or supposed, of the deceased -member to whose chair he succeeded--but the burden of which was an -exposition of the Count's opinions on things political, and things in -general. As usual, also, one of the Academicians replied by a -complimentary discourse to the new member, and it so chanced that the -respondent was no less a personage than M. Guizot. These two -distinguished men are what the French call "eagles of eloquence," and -under any circumstance the liveliest interest would have been felt to -see the two noble birds take an oratorical flight; but on this occasion -it was immensely increased, by the fact that they are recognized chiefs -of two different creeds in religion, the Catholic and the Protestant; of -two hostile political parties, that of absolutism, and that of liberty; -and of two contending schools in philosophy--one, which imposes -authority on the mind of man, the other, which maintains his right to -free examination. - - * * * * * - -CAVAIGNAC is stated to be employing the leisure of his voluntary exile -in writing his own memoirs. This may be one of the mere rumors which -float idly about in an age of interrupted sequence and disturbed action, -but should it prove true, the public may hope for a curious and -exciting narrative from the hero of June. Godfrey Cavaignac, his -brother, was one of the wittiest and sternest of republican writers -under Louis Philippe--and his own avowed opinions were the cause of much -suspicion to the government, though his brilliant exploits in Algiers -rendered it impossible to keep him down. Of course, however, the chief -interest of his memoirs would centre in the pages devoted to his share -in events subsequent to 1848. - - * * * * * - -A letter-writer from Paris to a London journal, presents some sound -comments on the recent infamous law for the suppression of the freedom -of the press: "President Bonaparte has this day promulgated his -long-expected law on the press. It is of unexampled harshness and -oppression. Old Draco himself, if living in these days, would not have -made it so atrociously severe. It ruins newspaper and periodical -proprietors; it strips editors, and writers, and reporters of the means -of obtaining their bread by their honest industry; it altogether -annihilates the political press. And not content with this, it prohibits -the entrance into France of _foreign_ political journals and -periodicals, without the special authorization of the government. - -"A few months ago the number of daily political newspapers in Paris -exceeded thirty; it now does not amount to ten, and of these ten some -are certain to disappear in the course of a short time. It is a very -moderate computation to suppose that each one of the twenty and odd -suppressed journals gave regular employment at good salaries to ten -literary men, as editors, contributors, reporters, correspondents, or -critics, and that each one afforded occasional employment to at least -the same number of feuilletonistes. Here, then, we have upward of twice -two hundred men, who, as regards intelligence, are of the _élite_ of -society, suddenly deprived of 'the means whereby they lived,' without -any fault of their own. What is to become of them? What of their -helpless wives and families? Few of them have any aptitude for any other -calling, and even if they had, what chance have they, in this -overstocked world, of finding vacant places? The contemplation of their -misery must wring every heart, and the more so as, from a certain -_fierté_ they all possess, they feel it with peculiar bitterness. But, -after all, they are but a small portion of the unfortunates who are -ruined by the ruining of the press: there are the compositors, who must -exceed two thousand in number; there are the news-venders, who must -amount to hundreds, there are the distributors, and the publishers, and -the clerks, and all the various dependents of a journal, who must amount -to hundreds more--all, like Othello, now exclaiming, 'My occupation's -gone.' And then paper-makers and type-founders must surely find work -slacker and wages lower, now that the newspapers are dead. And then, -again, the cafés and the reading-rooms--a very legion--can they do the -same amount of business when they have no newspapers to offer? I wonder -whether the French Dictator has ever thought of the wide-spread misery -he has occasioned, and is causing, by his enmity to the press. It may be -doubted--else, perhaps, he would never, from motives of personal or -political convenience, have annihilated such an important branch of -human industry, which gave bread to tens of thousands. It is a fine -thing to have a giant's strength, but tyrannous to use it as a giant." - - * * * * * - -The German papers say that DR. MEINHOLD, the author of the _Amber -Witch_, has left among his papers an unfinished manuscript, entitled -"Hagar and the Reformation"--which, they add, is now in an editor's -hands, and will be shortly given to the public. - - * * * * * - -LAMARTINE'S new periodical, the _Civilisateur_, is receiving fair -support. The subscriptions are coming in rapidly, and the first number -will appear shortly. - - * * * * * - -_The Mysteries of the People_, by EUGENE SUE, is announced to be -completed immediately. The sale of this eccentric novel, to say no more, -has been prodigious. Eugene Sue is in Switzerland. - - * * * * * - -Dr. NEUMAN, Professor of History in the University of Munich, has -completed his long-promised _History of the English Empire in Asia_. It -is on the eve of publication. - - * * * * * - -Herr HARTLEBEN, the publisher at Pesth and Vienna, whose meritorious -efforts to familiarize his countrymen with the best works of English -literature, has just published a translation of Mr. DICKENS'S _Child's -History of England_. A German edition of Mr. WARBURTON'S _Darien_ is -preparing for publication. - - * * * * * - -The German letter addressed to the Countess HAHN-HAHN on her two -works--_From Babylon to Jerusalem_, and _In Jerusalem_--in Germany -generally ascribed to Dr. NITZSCH, of Berlin, has been translated and -published by Mr. Parker. It is very clever, and will probably amuse and -interest the readers of that lady's former novels. The restless longing -after new sensations, and the logicless action of a vain and ambitious -mind, have seldom been analyzed so well or satirized so keenly as in -_Babylon_ and _Jerusalem_. A sharp preface from the translator also adds -to the reader's zest. - - * * * * * - -GUTZKOW, the German critic and novelist, has just published a collected -edition of his works in thirteen volumes, to which he is about to add a -fourteenth volume, containing the memoirs of his earlier years. His -gigantic novel, the _Knights of the Spirit_, has reached a second -edition. - - * * * * * - -An English newspaper, _The Rhenish Times_, is about to be published at -Neuwied, on the Rhine. This new organ, which has not many chances of -success, is to be devoted to polite literature, politics, &c.; from the -contributions of a number of "eminent English authors," now residents of -Neuwied and its environs. - - * * * * * - -The Austrian government, in order to secure the improvement of Hebrew -works of devotion for its own subjects, has authorized the establishment -of a special printing press at Goritz, in Illyrïa; and it calculates -that it will henceforth be able to supply the vast demand which exists -in the East. Heretofore the Jews of Eastern Europe, of Asia, and of -Northern Africa, have obtained their religious books principally from -Amsterdam or Leghorn. - - * * * * * - -"Of the language and literature of Hungary," says the _Literary -Gazette_, "little is known in England. No European nation has excited so -much political interest, with so little intellectual communion, or -literary intercourse with other nations. By deeds, very little by words, -has Hungary gained the sympathy and respect of the Anglo-Saxon freemen -on both sides of the Atlantic. Few Englishmen have ever heard of the -names of Garay, and Petöfi, and Kisfaludy, and Vörösmartz, whose lyric -strains stir the hearts of the Magyars. The literature of so noble a -people can not remain longer neglected in England. Besides the -political importance which the country will yet assume, there is beauty -and originality in the language itself deserving study. Of all European -tongues, it has most of the Oriental spirit and form in its idioms. We -are glad to find that an elementary work, entitled 'The Hungarian -Language; its Structure and Rules, with Exercises and a Vocabulary,' is -in the press, by Sigismund Wékey, late aid-de-camp to Kossuth. Both in -Great Britain and America, we have little doubt, the book will be -popular." - - * * * * * - -The Edinburgh papers record the death, upon the 14th, at the early age -of forty-four, of ROBERT BLACKWOOD, Esq., the head of the firm of -eminent publishers of that name. For the last two years the state of Mr. -Blackwood's health compelled his withdrawal from a business which, for -the previous fifteen years, he had conducted with admirable energy, -sagacity, and success. In the discharge of the difficult duties which -devolved upon him, from his position with reference to the literary men -of the day, Robert Blackwood uniformly displayed the same strong -practical sense for which his father, the founder of the Magazine, was -distinguished. He was respected and beloved for his simple and manly -qualities by all who had the happiness to know him. His judgments were -independent, clear, and decided; his attachments strong and sincere, and -by many his name will be long and warmly remembered as that of a stanch -and cordial friend. - - * * * * * - -The friends and admirers of the late LORENZ OKEN, one of the most -eminent anatomists and natural philosophers of modern Europe, have set -on foot a subscription for a monument to his memory. Oken's writings -have been widely read in Europe and in America--and have, we believe, -been translated into French, Italian, and Scandinavian, as well as into -English. The character of the monument can not be determined until the -probable amount of the subscription shall have been ascertained--but it -is expected to take the form of a bust or a statue, to be set up in the -Platz at Jena. - - * * * * * - -Baron D'OHSON died recently at Stockholm, aged 73. He was a member of -the Academy of Sciences, and President of the Royal Society of -Literature in that city. He was one of the most eminent Oriental -scholars of the day, and author, among other things, of an important -work on the peoples of Caucasus, and of a valuable history of Chinese -Tartary, He was born at Constantinople, of Armenian parents, but was -educated at Paris. He became secretary to Bernadotte, accompanied him to -Sweden, and subsequently fulfilled several diplomatic missions to Paris, -London, &c. - - * * * * * - -Turin journals announce the death of SERANGELI, an artist of celebrity. -He was born at Rome, in 1770, and became a pupil of the celebrated -David. At an early age he distinguished himself by a painting in one of -the annual exhibitions at Paris, and commissions of importance were -given to him by the government. His principal works are: _Eurydice dying -in the arms of Orpheus_; _Orpheus soliciting her release from the King -of Hell_; _Sophocles pleading against his Sons_; a _Christ Crucified_; -and the _Interview of the Emperors Napoleon and Alexander at Tilsit_. Of -late years he confined himself principally to portrait-painting, and his -skill as an historical painter declined in consequence. - - - - -Three Leaves from Punch. - - -[Illustration: GOING TO COVER. - -VOICE IN THE DISTANCE.--"Now, then, Smith--Come along!" - -SMITH.--"Oh, it's all very well to say, Come along! when he won't move a -step, and I'm afraid he's going to lie down!"] - - -[Illustration: OLD GENT.--"You see, my Dear, that the Earth turns on its -own Axis, and makes one Revolution round the Sun each Year." - -YOUNG REVOLVER.--"Then, Pa, does France turn on its own Axis when it -makes its Revolutions?" - -OLD GENT.--"No, my Dear, it turns on its Bayonets. However, that's not a -Question in Astronomy."] - - - - -THOUGHTS ON FRENCH AFFAIRS. - -(_Selected from a Course of Lectures by_ PROFESSOR PUNCH.) - - -The President has been elected for ten years. By the time this period -has closed, it will be found that not only the term of the President's -power, but the prosperity of France will be Decade (_Decayed_). - -"ELECTION," according to the Dictionaries, is a synonym for "Choice.'" -But in Louis Napoleon's new Political Dictionary we find the significant -addendum:--"'_Hobson's' understood_." - -The two parties in France, who are the one in favor of a King and the -other in favor of a Commonwealth, are easily distinguished by the -denominations of Monarchists and Republicans; but there is some -difficulty in finding a denomination for those in favor of an Empire, -unless we adopt that of _Empirics_. - -The President is said to be a firm believer in the _Thompsonian -practice_ of medicine. This is probable, from the fact that he has -treated the Insurgents with _Cayenne_. - -In honor of the vote for Louis Napoleon "the Tower of Notre Dame was -decorated with hangings." Considering the origin of the present -government, which is based on so many _shootings_, a very appropriate -decoration is by means of _hanging_. - -The French trees of Liberty have been cut down and the wood given to the -poor for fuel. The only liberty which the French have is--to warm -themselves. - -The French have long been well instructed in Deportment; the President -is now giving them lessons in Deportation. - -France is still quiet; she is taking her little -_Nap_. - -[Illustration: EARLY PUBLICATION OF A LIBERAL PAPER IN -PARIS.--_Time_--Four A.M.] - -[Illustration: SCENE FROM THE "PRESIDENT'S PROGRESS." - -(_Suggested by_ HOGARTH'S _Rake's Progress_.)] - -This plate represents the "PRINCE PRESIDENT" taking possession of the -effects of his deceased Uncle. From an old chest he has rummaged out the -Imperial globe, crown, eagle, and collar. The Code Napoleon, a pair of -military boots--too large to fit the new owner--and a bayonet, make up -the remainder of the contents of the chest. The sceptre is surmounted by -an expanded hand, the thumb of which comes in suspicious proximity to -the nose of a bust of the Uncle. From an open closet the Imperial eagle, -reduced to the last state of emaciation, is looking out. In the -fireplace is the Imperial chair, to which an old hag, who might pass for -the Avenging Nemesis, is setting fire, probably with the wood of the -Trees of Liberty. Sundry hoards, left by the former occupant of the -house, have been discovered, from which the young heir's ghostly -attendant is helping himself. The new tailor, Monsieur GENDARME, is in -the act of measuring the President for a suit of "Imperial purple, first -quality." Mademoiselle LIBERTE, accompanied by her mother, Madame -FRANCE, comes to demand the fulfillment of the promises he has made her, -and has brought the wedding-ring; but he refuses to fulfill his solemnly -sworn engagement; and offers money to the mother, who rejects it with an -expression of countenance that brooks no good to the gay deceiver. "The -characters in this picture," says Heir SAUERTEIG, "are admirably -developed; the stupid brutality of the heir, the grief and shame of the -poor deceived LIBERTE, the anger of FRANCE, which, it is clear, will not -be satisfied with words, the greed and avarice of the peculating priest, -and the business-like air of the tailor--perfectly indifferent whether -he fits his patron with an imperial robe or a convict's blouse--are -worthy of the highest admiration." - - -[Illustration: LADY.--"I have called, Mr. Squills to say that my darling -Dog(!) has taken all his Mixture, but his Cough is no better."] - - -[Illustration: MASTER TOM--"Have a Weed, Gran'pa?" - -GRAN'PA.--"A what! Sir?" - -MASTER TOM.--"A Weed!--A Cigar, you know." - -GRAN'PA.--"Certainly not, Sir. I never smoked in my life." - -MASTER TOM.--"Ah! then I wouldn't advise you to begin."] - - -[Illustration: EFFECTS OF A STRIKE. - - UPON THE CAPITALIST. UPON THE WORKMAN.] - - -[Illustration: MR. ----.--"So, your Name is Charley, is it? Now, Charley -doesn't know who I am?" - -SHARP LITTLE BOY.--"Oh yes! but I do, though." - -MR. ----.--"Well, who am I?" - -SHARP LITTLE BOY.--"Why, you're the Gentleman who kissed Sister Sophy in -the Library, the other night, when you thought no one was there."] - - -[Illustration: "I say, Cook, will you ask the Policeman, could he step -up--there's a Row in the next street."] - - - - -THE SEVEN WONDERS OF A YOUNG LADY. - - -I. - -Keeping her accounts in preference to an Album. - -II. - -Generously praising the attractions of that "affected creature" who -always cut her out. - -III. - -Not ridiculing the man she secretly prefers--nor quizzing what she -seriously admires. - -IV. - -Not changing her "dear, dear friend" quarterly--or her dress three times -a day. - -V. - -Reading a novel without looking at the third volume first; or writing a -letter without a post-script; or taking wine at dinner without saying -"the smallest drop in the world;" or singing without "a bad cold;" or -wearing shoes that were not "a mile too big for her." - -VI. - -Seeing a baby without immediately rushing to it and kissing it. - -VII. - -Carrying a large bouquet at an evening party, and omitting to ask her -partner "if he understands the language of flowers." - - - - -Spring Fashions. - -[Illustration: FIGURES 1 AND 2.--DRAWING-ROOM AND BALL COSTUMES.] - - -The sunny days of April, after our long, cold winter, are peculiarly -inviting to promenaders, who have been housed for four months. Fashion, -always on the alert to please, and as prompt in her ministrations, as -the breath of spring to the buds, is unfolding her beauties in the world -of mode, and, within another month will bring forth her creations in -full bloom. In the mean while, new costumes for the drawing room and the -saloon are not wanting. We present our readers this month with a report -of in-door costumes only, but hope to give them something acceptable in -our next, concerning dresses for the carriage and the promenade. The -fabrics and colors suitable for March yet prevail, with few changes. - -The figure on the right (Fig. 1) in our first illustration exhibits a -FULL DRESS TOILET, at once rich, chaste, and elegant. It is particularly -adapted to youthful matrons, or ladies who may have doubled their teens -without being caught in the noose of Hymen. The head-dress is very -elegant. The parting of the hair in the middle of the forehead is very -short, and the whole front hair is arranged in small curls, short in -front, and gradually lengthening toward the sides. A band of pearls goes -all round the head above the curls, and is brought round behind to hold -the back hair. - -Dress of antique watered silk, open all the way down from top of body. -The body is cut so as to form lappets and has no seam at the waist; the -lappet, quite smooth, goes round behind. The skirt is put on and -gathered just under the edge of the lappet. The trimming of this dress -is silk net in puffed _bouillonnés_. There is some round the body, on -the sleeves, and all down the fore parts of the body and the dress. The -_bouillons_ on the top of the body and sleeves are confined by pearl -loops. A rich brooch of pearls and diamonds, conceals the junction of -the _bouillés_ at the top of the body on the breast. The _bouillonnés_ -of the edges of fore part are confined by pearl cords, and at every -other _bouillon_, the strings of pearls are double and go from one edge -to the other. The body leaving open a space of two or three inches at -the waist, just shows the bottom of an under-body of white satin. The -under-skirt is satin, embroidered to represent an apron, with very rich -pattern worked in white silk and with the crochet. Two rows of Alençon -lace decorate each sleeve; a little white chemisette reaches beyond the -body. The silk crochet embroidery may be replaced by one executed in -silver, &c. - -FIG. 2.--BALL COSTUME.--The season for balls is about closing, yet we -give another illustration of a very elegant style: Hair in puffed bands; -wreath of roses, laid so as to follow the curve of the bands, forming a -point in front, and meeting behind in the back hair. Dress, white satin, -covered with embroidered silk-net, and ornamented with bouquets of -roses. The body is close, plain, and straight at top, and cut in three -pieces in front; the point is long, the silk-net of sprigged pattern is -laid even on the body, and follows its cut. The satin skirt has hollow -plaits, and the net one is placed over it, so as to puff a good deal, -without following the same plaits as those in the satin skirt. The -effect of this black silk-net with black flowers over white satin, is -very striking. In the front of the skirt, and from left to right, ten or -eleven bouquets of moss roses and rose-buds are scattered at random, and -this is a most appropriate occasion to apply Boileau's verse, in which -he says, that "fine disorder is the effect of art." The short sleeves -are puffed a little, and are trimmed with _engageantes_ of -scolloped-edged black blonde. - -FIG. 3 represents a portion of an elegant DRESS-TOILET. Over the head is -seen the upper part of a rich _sortie de bal_ of white silk, trimmed -with broad white galloon, watered, rather more than three inches wide. -This galloon is sewed on flat about an inch from the edge. A galloon of -an inch and a half begins at the waist, and comes, marking the shape of -the breast, to pass over the shoulder, and form a round at the back. The -galloon serves as an ornament, and it is below that the body of the -garment assumes the fullness for fluting. A double trimming of white, -worsted gimp, embroidered with white jet, forms a pelerine. The upper -one is raised, like a _fanchon_, to cover the top of the head, without -muffling the neck and chin. The bottom is also trimmed with a deep -gimp, gathered, in sewing on. The dress is yellow _moire antique_, -figured with a lampas pattern, reaching to the top. In the front, at the -middle, by an effect of white satin, obtained in the manufacture, the -imitation of a beautiful white ribbon is interwoven in the figured part, -beginning at the waist, diverging on either side as it descends, and -running round the bottom of the skirt. This admirable dress has received -the name of _Victoria_. - -[Illustration: FIG. 3.--DRESS TOILET.] - -We denominate FIG. 4 a FANCY COSTUME for a little girl, because it has -not been in vogue for the last three-fourths of a century. It represents -the costume of a girl at about the time of our Revolution. - -[Illustration: FIG. 4.--FANCY COSTUME.] - -It was the dress, not only of children, but of girls "in their teens." -It must be admitted, we think, that Fashion has not grown wise by age. -In elegant simplicity this costume is far in advance of the flaunting -exhibitions of finery, which little girls of our day often display. We -recommend it to our Bloomer friends, as a practical historical evidence -that their notions are not "new-fangled," but have the consecration of -age, and the sanction of the generation when our good Washington flirted -with the gay belles of Virginia. - - - - -[Transcriber's Note: - -Variant spelling has been retained. Minor corrections to punctuation -have been made without note. - -Oe ligature denoted by [oe] in the text version. - -Superscript denoted with caret (^) in the text version. - -A Table of Contents has been provided for the HTML version. - -Small caps replaced by all caps and italics denoted by "_" in the text -version. - -Correction of printer's errors: - -Page 588: "...would to tend the horses..." changed to read "...would be -to tend the horses..." - -Page 595: "...the fasts, the v.gils, the penances..." changed to read -"...the fasts, the vigils, the penances..." - -Page 606: "...aided by my colleage, Moulins..." changed to read -"...aided by my colleague Moulins..." - -Page 607: "...that thunberbolt may be..." changed to read "...that -thunderbolt may be..." - -Page 607: "...sagacious transferrence of the meeting..." changed to read -"...sagacious transference of the meeting ..." - -Page 661: "...he said was one one of the counsel..." changed to read -"...he said was one of the counsel ..." - -Page 665: "...himself to Borriboola-Gha..." changed to read "...himself -to Borrioboola-Gha..." - -Page 666: "...made a similar responce." changed to read "...made a -similar response." - -Page 666: "...the utmost discription Ada could give..." changed to read -"...the utmost description Ada could give..." - -Page 678: "...it it was Woman..." changed to read "...it was Woman..." - -Page 687: "...Douglas could scarcly have called him ..." changed to read -"...Douglas could scarcely have called him..." - -Page 690: "...the man was a a match..." changed to read "...the man was -a match..." - -Page 693: "...washing the dus: this is..." changed to read "...washing -the dust: this is..." - -Page 696: "...Lord Lieutenant of Ireand; Duke of Montrose..." changed to -read "...Lord Lieutenant of Ireland; Duke of Montrose..." - -Page 696: "...a good deal of skil and bravery..." changed to read "...a -good deal of skill and bravery..." - -Page 706: "...the color of the shiling there?" changed to read "...the -color of the shilling there?" - -Page 708: "...she was a reremarkable woman." changed to read "...she was -a remarkable woman." - -Page 710: "...the Greek Professsor in the University..." changed to read -"...the Greek Professor in the University..."] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. -XXIII.--April, 1852.--Vol. IV., by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY *** - -***** This file should be named 41629-8.txt or 41629-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/6/2/41629/ - -Produced by Wayne Hammond, David Kline, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from scans of public domain works at the -University of Michigan's Making of America collection.) - - -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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