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diff --git a/42693-8.txt b/42693-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8d8eeb9..0000000 --- a/42693-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14863 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XXVI, -July 1852, Vol. V, 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. XXVI, July 1852, Vol. V - -Author: Various - -Release Date: May 11, 2013 [EBook #42693] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY *** - - - - -Produced by Judith Wirawan, 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. XXVI.--JULY, 1852.--VOL. V. - - - - -[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW.] - -THE ARMORY AT SPRINGFIELD - -BY JACOB ABBOTT - - -SPRINGFIELD. - -The Connecticut river flows through the State of Massachusetts, from -north to south, on a line about half way between the middle of the -State and its western boundary. The valley through which the river -flows, which perhaps the stream itself has formed, is broad and -fertile, and it presents, in the summer months of the year, one widely -extended scene of inexpressible verdure and beauty. The river meanders -through a region of broad and luxuriant meadows which are overflowed -and enriched by an annual inundation. These meadows extend sometimes -for miles on either side of the stream, and are adorned here and there -with rural villages, built wherever there is a little elevation of -land--sufficient to render human habitations secure. The broad and -beautiful valley is bounded on either hand by an elevated and -undulating country, with streams, mills, farms, villages, forests, and -now and then a towering mountain, to vary and embellish the landscape. -In some cases a sort of spur or projection from the upland country -projects into the valley, forming a mountain summit there, from which -the most magnificent views are obtained of the beauty and fertility of -the surrounding scene. - -There are three principal towns upon the banks of the Connecticut -within the Massachusetts lines: Greenfield on the north--where the -river enters into Massachusetts from between New Hampshire and -Vermont--Northampton at the centre, and Springfield on the south. -These towns are all built at points where the upland approaches near -to the river. Thus at Springfield the land rises by a gentle ascent -from near the bank of the stream to a spacious and beautiful plain -which overlooks the valley. The town is built upon this declivity. It -is so enveloped in trees that from a distance it appears simply like a -grove with cupolas and spires rising above the masses of forest -foliage; but to one within it, it presents every where most enchanting -pictures of rural elegance and beauty. The streets are avenues of -trees. The houses are surrounded by gardens, and so enveloped in -shrubbery that in many cases they reveal themselves to the passer-by -only by the glimpse that he obtains of a colonnade or a piazza, -through some little vista which opens for a moment and then closes -again as he passes along. At one point, in ascending from the river to -the plain above, the tourist stops involuntarily to admire the view -which opens on either side, along a winding and beautiful street which -here crosses his way. It is called Chestnut-street on the right hand, -and Maple-street on the left--the two portions receiving their several -names from the trees with which they are respectively adorned. The -branches of the trees meet in a dense and unbroken mass of foliage -over the middle of the street, and the sidewalk presents very -precisely the appearance and expression of an alley in the gardens of -Versailles. - - -THE ARMORY GROUNDS. - -On reaching the summit of the ascent, the visitor finds himself upon -an extended plain, with streets of beautiful rural residences on every -hand, and in the centre a vast public square occupied and surrounded -by the buildings of the Armory. These buildings are spacious and -elegant in their construction, and are arranged in a very picturesque -and symmetrical manner within the square, and along the streets that -surround it. The grounds are shaded with trees; the dwellings are -adorned with gardens and shrubbery. Broad and neatly-kept walks, some -graveled, others paved, extend across the green or along the line of -the buildings, opening charming vistas in every direction. All is -quiet and still. Here and there a solitary pedestrian is seen moving -at a distance upon the sidewalk, or disappearing among the trees at -the end of an avenue; and perhaps the carriage of some party of -strangers stands waiting at a gate. The visitor who comes upon this -scene on a calm summer morning, is enchanted by the rural beauty that -surrounds him, and by the air of silence and repose which reigns over -it all. He hears the distant barking of a dog, the voices of children -at play, or the subdued thundering of the railway-train crossing the -river over its wooden viaduct, far down the valley--and other similar -rural sounds coming from a distance through the calm morning air--but -all around him and near him is still. Can it be possible, he asks, -that such a scene of tranquillity and loveliness can be the outward -form and embodiment of a vast machinery incessantly employed in the -production of engines of carnage and death? - -It is, however, after all, perhaps scarcely proper to call the arms -that are manufactured by the American government, and stored in their -various arsenals, as engines of carnage and destruction. They ought, -perhaps, to be considered rather as instruments of security and peace; -for their destination is, as it would seem, not to be employed in -active service in the performance of the function for which they are -so carefully prepared; but to be consigned, when once finished, to -eternal quiescence and repose. They protect by their existence, and -not by their action; but in order that this, their simple existence, -should be efficient as protection, it is necessary that the -instruments themselves should be fitted for their work in the surest -and most perfect manner. And thus we have the very singular and -extraordinary operation going on, of manufacturing with the greatest -care, and with the highest possible degree of scientific and -mechanical skill, a vast system of machinery, which, when completed, -all parties concerned most sincerely hope and believe will, in a great -majority of cases, remain in their depositories undisturbed forever. -They fulfill their vast function by their simple existence--and thus, -though in the highest degree useful, are never to be used. - - -THE BUILDINGS. - -The general appearance of the buildings of the Armory is represented -in the engraving placed at the head of this article. The point from -which the view is taken, is on the eastern side of the square--that -is, the side most remote from the town. The level and extended -landscape seen in the distance, over the tops of the buildings, is the -Connecticut valley--the town of Springfield lying concealed on the -slope of the hill, between the buildings and the river. The river -itself, too, is concealed from view at this point by the masses of -foliage which clothe its banks, and by the configuration of the land. - -The middle building in the foreground, marked by the cupola upon the -top of it, is called the Office. It contains the various -counting-rooms necessary for transacting the general business of the -Armory, and is, as it were, the seat and centre of the power by which -the whole machinery of the establishment is regulated. North and south -of it, and in a line with it, are two shops, called the North and -South Filing Shops, where, in the several stories, long ranges of -workmen are found, each at his own bench, and before his own window, -at work upon the special operation, whatever it may be, which is -assigned to him. On the left of the picture is a building with the end -toward the observer, two stories high in one part, and one story in -the other part. The higher portion--which in the view is the portion -nearest the observer--forms the Stocking Shop, as it is called; that -is the shop where the stocks are made for the muskets, and fitted to -the locks and barrels. The lower portion is the Blacksmith's Shop. The -Blacksmith's Shop is filled with small forges, at which the parts of -the lock are forged. Beyond the Blacksmith's Shop, and in a line with -it, and forming, together with the Stocking Shop and the Blacksmith's -Shop, the northern side of the square, are several dwelling-houses, -occupied as the quarters of certain officers of the Armory. The -residence of the Commanding Officer, however, is not among them. His -house stands on the west side of the square, opposite to the end of -the avenue which is seen opening directly before the observer in the -view. It occupies a very delightful and commanding situation on the -brow of the hill, having a view of the Armory buildings and grounds -upon one side, and overlooking the town and the valley of the -Connecticut on the other. - -A little to the south of the entrance to the Commanding Officer's -house, stands a large edifice, called the New Arsenal. It is the -building with the large square tower--seen in the view in the middle -distance, and near the centre of the picture. This building is used -for the storage of the muskets during the interval that elapses from -the finishing of them to the time when they are sent away to the -various permanent arsenals established by government in different -parts of the country, or issued to the troops. Besides this new -edifice there are two or three other buildings which are used for the -storage of finished muskets, called the Old Arsenals. They stand in a -line on the south side of the square, and may be seen on the left -hand, in the view. These buildings, all together, will contain about -five hundred thousand muskets. The New Arsenal, alone, is intended to -contain three hundred thousand. - - -THE WATER SHOPS. - -[Illustration: THE MIDDLE WATER SHOPS.] - -Such is the general arrangement of the Arsenal buildings, "on the -hill." But it is only the lighter work that is done here. The heavy -operations, such as rolling, welding, grinding, &c., are all performed -by water-power. The stream which the Ordnance Department of the United -States has pressed into its service to do this work, is a rivulet that -meanders through a winding and romantic valley, about half a mile -south of the town. On this stream are three falls, situated at a -distance perhaps of half a mile from each other. At each of these -falls there is a dam, a bridge, and a group of shops. They are called -respectively the Upper, Middle, and Lower Water Shops. The valley in -which these establishments are situated is extremely verdant and -beautiful. The banks of the stream are adorned sometimes with green, -grassy slopes, and sometimes with masses of shrubbery and foliage, -descending to the water. The road winds gracefully from one point of -view to another, opening at every turn some new and attractive -prospect. The shops and all the hydraulic works are very neatly and -very substantially constructed, and are kept in the most perfect -order: so that the scene, as it presents itself to the party of -visitors, as they ride slowly up or down the road in their carriage, -or saunter along upon the banks of the stream on foot, forms a very -attractive picture. - - -THE MUSKET BARREL. - -The fundamental, and altogether the most important operation in the -manufacture of the musket, is the formation of the barrel; for it is -obvious, that on the strength and perfection of the barrel, the whole -value and efficiency of the weapon when completed depends. One would -suppose, that the fabrication of so simple a thing as a plain and -smooth hollow tube of iron, would be a very easy process; but the fact -is, that so numerous are the obstacles and difficulties that are in -the way, and so various are the faults, latent and open, into which -the workman may allow his work to run, that the forming of the barrel -is not only the most important, but by far the most difficult of the -operations at the Armory--one which requires the most constant -vigilance and attention on the part of the workman, during the process -of fabrication, and the application of multiplied tests to prove the -accuracy and correctness of the work at every step of the progress of -it, from beginning to end. - -The barrels are made from plates of iron, of suitable form and size, -called _scalps_ or barrel plates. These scalps are a little more than -two feet long, and about three inches wide. The barrel when completed, -is about three feet six inches long, the additional length being -gained by the elongating of the scalp under the hammer during the -process of welding. The scalps are heated, and then rolled up over an -iron rod, and the edges being lapped are welded together, so as to -form a tube of the requisite dimensions--the solid rod serving to -preserve the cavity within of the proper form. This welding of the -barrels is performed at a building among the Middle Water Shops. A -range of tilt hammers extend up and down the room, with forges in the -centre of the room, one opposite to each hammer, for heating the iron. -The tilt hammers are driven by immense water-wheels, placed beneath -the building--there being an arrangement of machinery by which each -hammer may be connected with its moving power, or disconnected from -it, at any moment, at the pleasure of the workman. Underneath the -hammer is an anvil. This anvil contains a die, the upper surface of -which, as well as the under surface of a similar die inserted in the -hammer, is formed with a semi-cylindrical groove, so that when the two -surfaces come together a complete cylindrical cavity is formed, which -is of the proper size to receive the barrel that is to be forged. The -workman heats a small portion of his work in his forge, and then -standing directly before the hammer, he places the barrel in its bed -upon the anvil, and sets his hammer in motion, turning the barrel -round and round continually under the blows. Only a small portion of -the seam is closed at one heat, _eleven_ heats being required to -complete the work. To effect by this operation a perfect junction of -the iron, in the overlapping portions, so that the substance of iron -shall be continuous and homogeneous throughout, the same at the -junction as in every other part, without any, the least, flaw, or -seam, or crevice, open or concealed, requires not only great -experience and skill, but also most unremitting and constant attention -during the performance of the work. Should there be any such flaw, -however deeply it may be concealed, and however completely all -indications of it may be smoothed over and covered up by a superficial -finishing, it is sure to be exposed at last, to the mortification and -loss of the workman, in the form of a great gaping rent, which is -brought out from it under the inexorable severity of the test to which -the work has finally to be subjected. - -[Illustration: THE WELDING ROOM.] - - -RESPONSIBILITY OF THE WORKMEN. - -We say to the _loss_ as well as to the mortification of the workman, -for it is a principle that pervades the whole administration of this -establishment, though for special reasons the principle is somewhat -modified in its application to the welder, as will hereafter be -explained, that each workman bears the whole loss that is occasioned -by the failure of his work to stand its trial, from whatever cause the -failure may arise. As a general rule each workman stamps every piece -of work that passes through his hands with his own mark--a mark made -indelible too--so that even after the musket is finished, the history -of its construction can be precisely traced, and every operation -performed upon it, of whatever kind, can be carried home to the -identical workman who performed it. The various parts thus marked are -subject to very close inspection, and to very rigid tests, at -different periods, and whenever any failure occurs, the person who is -found to be responsible for it is charged with the loss. He loses not -only his own pay for the work which he performed upon the piece in -question, but for the whole value of the piece at the time that the -defect is discovered. That is, he has not only to lose his own labor, -but he must also pay for all the other labor expended upon the piece, -which through the fault of his work becomes useless. For example, in -the case of the barrel, there is a certain amount of labor expended -upon the iron, to form it into scalps, before it comes into the -welder's hands. Then after it is welded it must be bored and turned, -and subjected to some other minor operations before the strength of -the welding can be proved. If now, under the test that is applied to -prove this strength--a test which will be explained fully in the -sequel--the work gives way, and if, on examination of the rent, it -proves to have been caused by imperfection in the welding, and not by -any original defect in the iron, the welder, according to the general -principle which governs in this respect all the operations of the -establishment, would have to lose not only the value of his own labor, -in welding the barrel, but that of all the other operations which had -been performed upon it, and which were rendered worthless by his -agency. It is immaterial whether the misfortune in such cases is -occasioned by accident, or carelessness, or want of skill. In either -case the workman is responsible. This rule is somewhat relaxed in the -case of the welder, on whom it would, perhaps, if rigidly enforced, -bear somewhat too heavily. In fact many persons might regard it as a -somewhat severe and rigid rule in any case--and it would, perhaps, -very properly be so considered, were it not that this responsibility -is taken into the account in fixing the rate of wages; and the workmen -being abundantly able to sustain such a responsibility do not complain -of it. The system operates on the whole in the most salutary manner, -introducing, as it does, into every department of the Armory, a spirit -of attention, skill, and fidelity, which marks even the countenances -and manners of the workmen, and is often noticed and spoken of by -visitors. In fact none but workmen of a very high character for -intelligence, capacity, and skill could gain admission to the -Armory--or if admitted could long maintain a footing there. - -The welders are charged one dollar for every barrel lost through the -fault of their work. They earn, by welding, twelve cents for each -barrel; so that by spoiling one, they lose the labor which they expend -upon eight. Being thus rigidly accountable for the perfection of their -work, they find that their undivided attention is required while they -are performing it; and, fortunately perhaps for them, there is nothing -that can well divert their attention while they are engaged at their -forges, for such is the incessant and intolerable clangor and din -produced by the eighteen tilt hammers, which are continually breaking -out in all parts of the room, into their sudden paroxysms of activity, -that every thing like conversation in the apartment is almost utterly -excluded. The blows of the hammers, when the white-hot iron is first -passed under them and the pull of the lever sets them in motion, are -inconceivably rapid, and the deafening noise which they make, and the -showers of sparks which they scatter in every direction around, -produce a scene which quite appalls many a lady visitor when she first -enters upon it, and makes her shrink back at the door, as if she were -coming into some imminent danger. The hammers strike more than six -hundred blows in a minute, that is more than _ten in every second_; -and the noise produced is a sort of rattling thunder, so overpowering -when any of the hammers are in operation near to the observer, that -the loudest vociferation uttered close to the ear, is wholly -inaudible. Some visitors linger long in the apartment, pleased with -the splendor and impressiveness of the scene. Others consider it -frightful, and hasten away. - - -FINISHING OPERATIONS.--BORING. - -From the Middle Water Shops, where this welding is done, the barrels -are conveyed to the Upper Shops, where the operations of turning, -boring and grinding are performed. Of course the barrel when first -welded is left much larger in its outer circumference, and smaller in -its bore, than it is intended to be when finished, in order to allow -for the loss of metal in the various finishing operations. When it -comes from the welder the barrel weighs over seven pounds: when -completely finished it weighs but about four and a half pounds, so -that nearly one half of the metal originally used, is cut away by the -subsequent processes. - -The first of these processes is the boring out of the interior. The -boring is performed in certain machines called boring banks. They -consist of square and very solid frames of iron, in which, as in a -bed, the barrel is fixed, and there is bored out by a succession of -operations performed by means of certain tools which are called -augers, though they bear very little resemblance to the carpenter's -instrument so named. These augers are short square bars of steel, -highly polished, and sharp at the edges--and placed at the ends of -long iron rods, so that they may pass entirely through the barrel to -be bored by them, from end to end. The boring parts of these -instruments, though they are in appearance only plain bars of steel -with straight and parallel sides, are really somewhat smaller at the -outer than at the inner end, so that, speaking mathematically, they -are truncated pyramids, of four sides, though differing very slightly -in the diameters of the lower and upper sections. - -The barrels being fixed in the boring bank, as above described, the -end of the shank of the auger is inserted into the centre of a wheel -placed at one end of the bank, where, by means of machinery, a slow -rotary motion is given to the auger, and a still slower progressive -motion at the same time. By this means the auger gradually enters the -hollow of the barrel, boring its way, or rather enlarging its way by -its boring, as it advances. After it has passed through it is -withdrawn, and another auger, a very little larger than the first is -substituted in its place; and thus the calibre of the barrel is -gradually enlarged, _almost_ to the required dimensions. - -Almost, but not quite; for in the course of the various operations -which are subsequent to the boring, the form of the interior of the -work is liable to be slightly disturbed, and this makes it necessary -to reserve a portion of the surplus metal within, for a final -operation. In fact the borings to which the barrel are subject, -alternate in more instances than one with other operations, the whole -forming a system far too nice and complicated to be described fully -within the limits to which we are necessarily confined in such an -article as this. It is a general principle however that the inside -work is kept always in advance of the outside, as it is the custom -with all machinists and turners to adopt the rule that is so -indispensable and excellent in morals, namely, to make all right first -within, and then to attend to the exterior. Thus in the case of the -musket barrel the bore is first made correct. Then the outer surface -of the work is turned and ground down to a correspondence with it. The -reverse of this process, that is first shaping the outside of it, and -then boring it out within, so as to make the inner and outer surfaces -to correspond, and the metal every where to be of equal thickness, -would be all but impossible. - - -TURNING. - -After the boring, then, of the barrel, comes the turning of the -outside of it. The piece is supported in the lathe by means of -mandrels inserted into the two ends of it, and there it slowly -revolves, bringing all parts of its surface successively under the -action of a tool fixed firmly in the right position for cutting the -work to its proper form. Of course the barrel has a slow progressive -as well as rotary motion during this process, and the tool itself, -with the rest in which it is firmly screwed, advances or recedes very -regularly and gradually, in respect to the work, as the process goes -on, in order to form the proper taper of the barrel in proceeding from -the breech to the muzzle. The main work however in this turning -process is performed by the rotation of the barrel. The workman thus -treats his material and his tools with strict impartiality. In the -_boring_, the piece remains at rest, and the tool does its work by -revolving. In the _turning_, on the other hand, the _piece_ must take -its part in active duty, being required to revolve against the tool, -while the tool itself remains fixed in its position in the rest. - -Among the readers of this article there will probably be many -thousands who have never had the opportunity to witness the process of -turning or boring iron, and to them it may seem surprising that any -tool can be made with an edge sufficiently enduring to stand in such a -service. And it is indeed true that a cutting edge destined to -maintain itself against iron must be of very excellent temper, and -moreover it must have a peculiar construction and form, such that when -set in its proper position for service, the cutting part shall be well -supported, so to speak, in entering the metal, by the mass of the -steel behind it. It is necessary, too, to keep the work cool by a -small stream of water constantly falling upon the point of action. The -piece to be turned, moreover, when of iron, must revolve very slowly; -the process will not go on successfully at a rapid rate; though in the -case of wood the higher the speed at which the machinery works, within -certain limits, the more perfect the operation. In all these points -the process of turning iron requires a very nice adjustment; but when -the conditions necessary to success are all properly fulfilled, the -work goes on in the most perfect manner, and the observer who is -unaccustomed to witness the process is surprised to see the curling -and continuous shaving of iron issuing from the point where the tool -is applied, being cut out there as smoothly and apparently as easily -as if the material were lead. - - -THE STRAIGHTENING. - -One of the most interesting and curious parts of the process of the -manufacture of the barrel, is the straightening of it. We ought, -perhaps, rather to say the straightenings, for it is found necessary -that the operation should be several times performed. For example, the -barrel must be straightened before it is turned, and then, inasmuch as -in the process of turning it generally gets more or less _sprung_, it -must be straightened again afterward. In fact, every important -operation performed upon the barrel is likely to cause some deflection -in it, which requires to be subsequently corrected, so that the -process must be repeated several times. The actual work of -straightening, that is the mechanical act that is performed, is very -simple--consisting as it does of merely striking a blow. The whole -difficulty lies in determining when and where the correction is -required. In other words, the _making straight_ is very easily and -quickly done; the thing attended with difficulty is to find out when -and where the work is crooked; for the deflections which it is thus -required to remedy, are so extremely slight, that all ordinary modes -of examination would fail wholly to detect them; while yet they are -sufficiently great to disturb very essentially the range and direction -of the ball which should issue from the barrel, affected by them. - -[Illustration: STRAIGHTENING THE BARRELS.] - -The above engraving represents the workman in the act of examining the -interior of a barrel with a view to ascertaining whether it be -straight. On the floor, in the direction toward which the barrel is -pointed, is a small mirror, in which the workman sees, through the -tube, a reflection of a certain pane of glass in the window. The pane -in question is marked by a diagonal line, which may be seen upon it, -in the view, passing from one corner to the other. This diagonal line -now is reflected by the mirror into the bore of the barrel, and then -it is reflected again to the eye of the observer; for the surface of -the iron on the inside of the barrel is left in a most brilliantly -polished condition, by the boring and the operations connected -therewith. Now the workman, in some mysterious way or other, detects -the slightest deviation from straightness in the barrel, by the -appearance which this reflection presents to his eye, as he looks -through the bore in the manner represented in the drawing. He is -always ready to explain very politely to his visitor exactly how this -is done, and to allow the lady to look through the tube and see for -herself. All that she is able to see, however, in such cases is a very -resplendent congeries of concentric rings, forming a spectacle of very -dazzling brilliancy, which pleases and delights her, though the -mystery of the reflected line generally remains as profound a mystery -after the observation as before. This is, in fact, the result which -might have been expected, since it is generally found that all -demonstrations and explanations relating to the science of optics and -light, addressed to the uninitiated, end in plunging them into greater -darkness than ever. - -The only object which the mirror upon the floor serves, in the -operation, is to save the workman from the fatigue of holding up the -barrel, which it would be necessary for him to do at each observation, -if he were to look at the window pane directly. By having a reflecting -surface at the floor he can point the barrel downward, when he wishes -to look through it, and this greatly facilitates the manipulation. -There is a rest, too, provided for the barrel, to support it while the -operator is looking through. He plants the end of the tube in this -rest, with a peculiar grace and dexterity, and then, turning it round -and round, in order to bring every part of the inner surface to the -test of the reflection, he accomplishes the object of his scrutiny in -a moment, and then recovering the barrel, he lays it across a sort of -anvil which stands by his side, and strikes a gentle blow upon it -wherever a correction was found to be required. Thus the operation, -though it often seems a very difficult one for the visitor to -understand, proves a very easy one for the workman to perform. - - -OLD MODE OF STRAIGHTENING. - -In former times a mode altogether different from this was adopted to -test the interior rectitude of the barrel. A very slender line, formed -of a hair or some similar substance, was passed through the -barrel--_dropped_ through, in fact, by means of a small weight -attached to the end of it. This line was then drawn tight, and the -workman looking through, turned the barrel round so as to bring the -line into coincidence successively with every portion of the inner -surface. If now there existed any concavity in any part of this -surface, the line would show it by the distance which would there -appear between the line itself and its reflection in the metal. The -present method, however, which has now been in use about thirty years, -is found to be far superior to the old one; so much so in fact that -all the muskets manufactured before that period have since been -condemned as unfit for use, on account mainly of the crookedness of -the barrels. When we consider, however, that the calculation is that -in ordinary engagements less than one out of every hundred of the -balls that are discharged take effect; that is, that ninety-nine out -of every hundred go wide of the mark for which they are intended, from -causes that must be wholly independent of any want of accuracy in the -aiming, it would seem to those who know little of such subjects, that -to condemn muskets for deviating from perfect straightness by less -than a hair, must be quite an unnecessary nicety. The truth is, -however, that all concerned in the establishment at Springfield, seem -to be animated by a common determination, that whatever may be the use -that is ultimately to be made of their work, the instrument itself, as -it comes from their hands, shall be absolutely perfect; and whoever -looks at the result, as they now attain it, will admit that they carry -out their determination in a very successful manner. - - -CINDER HOLES. - -Various other improvements have been made from time to time in the -mode of manufacturing and finishing the musket, which have led to the -condemnation or alteration of those made before the improvements were -introduced. A striking illustration of this is afforded by the case of -what are called _cinder holes_. A cinder hole is a small cavity left -in the iron at the time of the manufacture of it--the effect, -doubtless, of some small development of gas forming a bubble in the -substance of the iron. If the bubble is near the inner surface of the -barrel when it is welded, the process of boring and finishing brings -it into view, in the form of a small blemish seen in the side of the -bore. At a former period in the history of the Armory, defects of this -kind were not considered essential, so long as they were so small as -not to weaken the barrel. It was found, however, at length that such -cavities, by retaining the moisture and other products of combustion -resulting from the discharge of the piece, were subject to corrosion, -and gradual enlargement, so as finally to weaken the barrel in a fatal -manner. It was decided therefore that the existence of cinder holes in -a barrel should thenceforth be a sufficient cause for its rejection, -and all the muskets manufactured before that time have since been -condemned and sold; the design of the department being to retain in -the public arsenals only arms of the most perfect and unexceptionable -character. - -At the present time, in the process of manufacturing the barrels, it -is not always found necessary to reject a barrel absolutely in every -case where a cinder hole appears. Sometimes the iron may be forced in, -by a blow upon the outside, sufficiently to enable the workman to bore -the cinder hole out entirely. This course is always adopted where the -thickness of the iron will allow it, and in such cases the barrel is -saved. Where this can not be done, the part affected is sometimes cut -off, and a short barrel is made, for an arm called a musketoon. - - -THE GRINDING. - -After the barrel is turned to nearly its proper size it is next to be -ground, for the purpose of removing the marks left by the tool in -turning, and of still further perfecting its form. For this operation -immense grindstones, carried by machinery, are used, as seen in the -engraving. These stones, when in use, are made to revolve with great -rapidity--usually about _four hundred times in a minute_--and as a -constant stream of water is kept pouring upon the part where the -barrel is applied in the grinding, it is necessary to cover them -entirely with a wooden case, as seen in the engraving, to catch and -confine the water, which would otherwise be thrown with great force -about the room. The direct action therefore of the stone upon the -barrel in the process of grinding is concealed from view. - -[Illustration: GRINDING.] - -The workman has an iron rod with a sort of crank-like handle at the -end of it, and this rod he inserts into the bore of the barrel which -he has in hand. The rod fits into the barrel closely, and is held -firmly by the friction, so that by means of the handle to the rod, the -workman can turn the barrel round and round continually while he is -grinding it, and thus bring the action of the stone to bear equally -upon every part, and so finish the work in a true cylindrical form. -One of these rods, with its handle, may be seen lying free upon the -stand on the right of the picture. The workman is also provided with -gauges which he applies frequently to the barrel at different points -along its length, as the work goes on, in order to form it to the true -size and to the proper taper. In the act of grinding he inserts the -barrel into a small hole in the case, in front of the stone, and then -presses it hard against the surface of the stone by means of the iron -lever behind him. By leaning against this lever with greater or less -exertion he can regulate the pressure of the barrel against the stone -at pleasure. In order to increase his power over this lever he stands -upon a plate of iron which is placed upon the floor beneath him, with -projections cast upon it to hold his feet by their friction; the -moment that he ceases to lean against the lever, the inner end of it -is drawn back by the action of the weight seen hanging down by the -side of it, and the barrel is immediately released. - -The workman _turns_ the barrel continually, during the process of -grinding, by means of the handle, as seen in the drawing, and as the -stone itself is revolving all the time with prodigious velocity, the -work is very rapidly, and at the same time very smoothly and correctly -performed. - - -DANGER. - -It would seem too, at first thought, that this operation of grinding -must be a very safe as well as a simple one; but it is far otherwise. -This grinding room is the dangerous room--the only dangerous room, in -fact, in the whole establishment. In the first place, the work itself -is often very injurious to the health. The premises are always -drenched with water, and this makes the atmosphere damp and -unwholesome. Then there is a fine powder, which, notwithstanding every -precaution, will escape from the stone, and contaminate the air, -producing very serious tendencies to disease in the lungs of persons -who breathe it for any long period. In former times it was customary -to grind bayonets as well as barrels; and this required that the face -of the stone should be fluted, that is cut into grooves of a form -suitable to receive the bayonet. This fluting of the stone, which of -course it was necessary continually to renew, was found to be an -exceedingly unhealthy operation, and in the process of grinding, -moreover, in the case of bayonets, the workman was much more exposed -than in grinding barrels, as it was necessary that a portion of the -stone should be open before him and that he should apply the piece in -hand directly to the surface of it. From these causes it resulted, -under the old system, that bayonets, whatever might have been their -destination in respect to actual service against an enemy on the -field, were pretty sure to be the death of all who were concerned in -making them. - -The system, however, so far as relates to the bayonet is now changed. -Bayonets are now "milled," instead of being ground; that is, they are -finished by means of cutters formed upon the circumference of a wheel, -and so arranged that by the revolution of the wheel, and by the motion -of the bayonet in passing slowly under it, secured in a very solid -manner to a solid bed, the superfluous metal is cut away and the piece -fashioned at once to its proper form, or at least brought so near to -it by the machine, as to require afterward only a very little -finishing. This operation is cheaper than the other, and also more -perfect in its result; while at the same time it is entirely free from -danger to the workman. - -No mode, however, has yet been devised for dispensing with the -operation of grinding in the case of the barrel; though the injury to -the health is much less in this case than in the other. - - -BURSTING OF GRINDSTONES. - -There is another very formidable danger connected with the process of -grinding besides the insalubrity of the work; and that is the danger -of the bursting of the stones in consequence of their enormous weight -and the immense velocity with which they are made to revolve. Some -years since a new method of clamping the stone, that is of attaching -it and securing it to its axis, was adopted, by means of which the -danger of bursting is much diminished. But by the mode formerly -practiced--the mode which in fact still prevails in many manufacturing -establishments where large grindstones are employed--the danger was -very great, and the most frightful accidents often occurred. In -securing the stone to its axis it was customary to cut a square hole -through the centre of the stone, and then after passing the iron axis -through this opening, to fix the stone upon the axis by wedging it up -firmly with wooden wedges. Now it is well known that an enormous force -may be exerted by the driving of a wedge, and probably in many cases -where this method is resorted to, the stone is strained to its utmost -tension, so as to be on the point of splitting open, before it is put -in rotation at all. The water is then let on, and the stone becomes -saturated with it--which greatly increases the danger. There are three -ways by which the water tends to promote the bursting of the stone. It -makes it very much heavier, and thus adds to the momentum of its -motion, and consequently to the centrifugal force. It also makes it -weaker, for the water penetrates the stone in every part, and operates -to soften, as it were, its texture. Then finally it swells the wedges, -and thus greatly increases the force of the outward strain which they -exert at the centre of the stone. When under these circumstances the -enormous mass is put in motion, at the rate perhaps of five or six -revolutions in a _second_, it bursts, and some enormous fragment, a -quarter or a third of the whole, flies up through the flooring above, -or out through a wall, according to the position of the part thrown -off, at the time of the fracture. An accident of this kind occurred at -the Armory some years since. One fragment of the stone struck the wall -of the building, which was two or three feet thick, and broke it -through. The other passing upward, struck and fractured a heavy beam -forming a part of the floor above, and upset a work-bench in a room -over it, where several men were working. The men were thrown down, -though fortunately they were not injured. The workman who had been -grinding at the stone left his station for a minute or two, just -before the catastrophe, and thus his life too was saved. - - -POLISHING. - -We have said that the grinding room is the _only_ dangerous room in -such an establishment as this. There is one other process than -grinding which was formerly considered as extremely unhealthy, and -that is the process of polishing. The polishing of steel is performed -by means of what are called _emery wheels_, which are wheels bound on -their circumference by a band of leather, to which a coating of emery, -very finely pulverized, is applied, by means of a sizing of glue. -These wheels, a large number of which are placed side by side in the -same room, are made to revolve by means of machinery, with an -inconceivable velocity, while the workmen who have the polishing to -do, taking their stations, each at his own wheel, on seats placed -there for the purpose, and holding the piece of work on which the -operation is to be performed, in their hands, apply it to the -revolving circumference before them. The surface of the steel thus -applied, receives immediately a very high polish--a stream of sparks -being elicited by the friction, and flying off from the wheel opposite -to the workman. - -Now although in these cases the workman was always accustomed to take -his position at the wheel in such a manner as to be exposed as little -as possible to the effects of it, yet the air of the apartment, it was -found, soon became fully impregnated with the fine emery dust, and the -influence of it upon the lungs proved very deleterious. There is, -however, now in operation a contrivance by means of which the evil is -almost entirely remedied. A large air-trunk is laid beneath the floor, -from which the air is drawn out continually by means of a sort of fan -machinery connected with the engine. Opposite to each wheel, and in -the direction to which the sparks and the emery dust are thrown, are -openings connected with this air-trunk. By means of this arrangement -all that is noxious in the air of the room is drawn out through the -openings into the air-trunk, and so conveyed away. - -The sparks produced in such operations as this, as in the case of the -collision of flint and steel, consist of small globules of melted -metal, cut off from the main mass by the force of the friction, and -heated to the melting point at the same time. These metallic -scintillations were not supposed to be the cause of the injury that -was produced by the operation of polishing, as formerly practiced. It -was the dust of the emery that produced the effect, just as in the -case of the grinding it was the powder of the stone, and not the fine -particles of iron. - -The emery which is used in these polishing operations, as well as for -a great many similar purposes in the arts, is obtained by pulverizing -an exceedingly hard mineral that is found in several of the islands of -the Grecian Archipelago, in the Mediterranean. In its native state it -appears in the form of shapeless masses, of a blackish or bluish gray -color, and it is prepared for use by being pulverized in iron mortars. -When pulverized it is washed and sorted into five or six different -degrees of fineness, according to the work for which it is wanted. It -is used by lapidaries for cutting and polishing stones, by cutlers for -iron and steel instruments, and by opticians for grinding lenses. It -is ordinarily used in the manner above described, by being applied to -the circumference of a leathern covered wheel, by means of oil or of -glue. Ladies use bags filled with it, for brightening their needles. - -Emery is procured in Spain, and also in Great Britain, as well as in -the Islands of the Mediterranean. - - -PROVING. - -[Illustration: THE PROVING HOUSE.] - -When the barrels are brought pretty nearly to their finished -condition, they are to be _proved_, that is to be subjected to the -test of actual trial with gunpowder. For this proving they are taken -to a very strong building that is constructed for the purpose, and -which stands behind the Stocking Shop. Its place is on the -right in the general view of the Armory buildings, and near the -foreground--though that view does not extend far enough in that -direction to bring it in. The exterior appearance of this building is -represented in the above engraving. It is made very strong, being -constructed wholly of timber, in order to enable it to resist the -force of the explosions within. There are spacious openings in lattice -work, in the roof and under the eaves of the building, to allow of the -escape of the smoke with which it is filled at each discharge; for it -is customary to prove a large number of barrels at a time. The barrels -are loaded with a very heavy charge, so as to subject them to much -greater strain than they can ever be exposed to in actual service. The -building on the left, in the engraving, is used for loading the -barrels, and for cleaning and drying them after they are proved. The -shed attached to the main building, on the right hand, contains a bank -of clay, placed there to receive the bullets, with which the barrels -are charged. - -The arrangement of the interior of this building, as well as the -manner in which the proving is performed, will be very clearly -understood by reference to the engraving below. - -[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE PROVING HOUSE.] - -On the right hand end of the building, and extending quite across it -from side to side, is a sort of platform, the upper surface of which -is formed of cast-iron, and contains grooves in which the muskets are -placed when loaded, side by side. A train of gunpowder is laid along -the back side of this platform, so as to form a communication with -each barrel. The train passes out through a hole in the side of the -building near the door. The bank of clay may be seen sloping down from -within its shed into the room on the left. The artist has represented -the scene as it appears when all is ready for the discharge. The -barrels are placed, the train is laid, and the proof-master is just -retiring and closing the door. A moment more and there will be a loud -and rattling explosion; then the doors will be opened, and as soon as -the smoke has cleared away the workman will enter and ascertain the -result. About one in sixty of the barrels are found to burst under the -trial. - -The pieces that fail are all carefully examined with a view to -ascertain whether the giving way was owing to a defect in the welding, -or to some flaw, or other bad quality, in the iron. The appearance of -the rent made by the bursting will always determine this point. The -loss of those that failed on account of bad welding is then charged to -the respective operatives by whom the work was done, at a dollar for -each one so failing. The name of the maker of each is known by the -stamp which he put upon it at the time when it passed through his -hands. - -The barrels that stand this first test are afterward subjected to a -second one in order to make it sure that they sustained no partial and -imperceptible injury at the first explosion. This done they are -stamped with the mark of approval, and so sent to the proper -departments to be mounted and finished. - -[Illustration: TESTING THE BAYONETS.] - -The bayonets, and all the other parts of which the musket is composed -are subjected to tests, different in character indeed, but equally -strict and rigid in respect to the qualities which they are intended -to prove, with that applied to the barrel. The bayonet is very -carefully gauged and measured in every part, in order to make sure -that it is of precisely the proper form and dimensions. A weight is -hung to the point of it to try its temper, and it is sprung by the -strength of the inspector, with the point of it set into the floor, to -prove its elasticity. If it is found to be tempered too high it -breaks; if too low it bends. In either case it is condemned, and the -workman through whose fault the failure has resulted is charged with -the loss. - - -THE FORGING. - -The number of pieces which are used in making up a musket is -forty-nine, each of which has to be formed and finished separately. Of -these there are only two--viz., the sight and what is called the -_cone-seat_, a sort of process connected with the barrel--that are -permanently attached to any other part; so that the musket can at any -time be separated into _forty-seven_ parts, by simply turning screws, -and opening springs, and then put together again as before. Most of -these parts are such that they are formed in the first instance by -being forged or rather _swedged_, and are afterward trimmed and -finished in lathes, and milling engines, or by means of files. -_Swedging_, as it is called, is the forming of irregular shapes in -iron by means of dies of a certain kind, called swedges, one of which -is inserted in the anvil, in a cavity made for the purpose, and the -other is placed above it. Cavities are cut in the faces of the -swedges, so that when they are brought together, with the end of the -iron rod out of which the article to be formed between them, the iron -is made to assume the form of the cavities by means of blows of the -hammer upon the upper swedge. In this way shapes are easily and -rapidly fashioned, which it would be impossible to produce by blows -directed immediately upon the iron. - -[Illustration: THE BLACKSMITH'S SHOP.] - -The shop where this swedging work is done at the Armory contains a -great number of forges, one only of which however is fully represented -in the engraving. The apparatus connected with these forges, differing -in each according to the particular operation for which each is -intended, is far too complicated to be described in this connection. -It can only be fully understood when seen in actual operation under -the hands of the workman. The visitor however who has the opportunity -to see it thus, lingers long before each separate forge, pleased with -the ingenuity of the contrivances which he witnesses, and admiring the -wonderful dexterity of the workman. There is no appearance of bellows -at any of these works. The air is supplied to the fires by pipes -ascending through the floor from a _fan blower_, as it is called, -worked by machinery arranged for the purpose below. - - -THE STOCKING SHOP. - -The Stocking Shop, so called, is the department in which the _stocks_ -to which the barrel and the lock are to be attached, are formed and -finished. The wood used for gun stocks in this country is the black -walnut, and as this wood requires to be seasoned some years -before it is used, an immense store of it is kept on hand at the -Armory--sufficient in fact for four years' consumption. The building -in which this material is stored may be seen on the right hand side in -the general view placed at the head of this article. It stands off -from the square, and behind the other buildings. The operations -conducted in the stocking shop are exceedingly attractive to all who -visit the establishment. In fact it happens here as it often does in -similar cases, that that which it is most interesting to witness is -the least interesting to be described. The reason is that the charm in -these processes consists in the high perfection and finish of the -machines, in the smoothness, grace, and rapidity of their motions, and -in the seemingly miraculous character of the performances which they -execute. Of such things no mere description can convey any adequate -idea. They must be seen to be at all appreciated. - -A gun stock, with all the innumerable cavities, grooves, perforations, -and recesses necessary to be made in it, to receive the barrel, the -lock, the bands, the ramrod, and the numerous pins and screws, all of -which require a separate and peculiar modification of its form, is -perhaps as irregular a shape as the ingenuity of man could devise--and -as well calculated as any shape could possibly be to bid defiance to -every attempt at applying machinery to the work of fashioning it. The -difficulties however in the way of such an attempt, insurmountable as -they would at first sight seem, have all been overcome, and every part -of the stock is formed, and every perforation, groove, cavity, and -socket is cut in it by machines that do their work with a beauty, a -grace, and a perfection, which awaken in all who witness the process, -a feeling of astonishment and delight. - -The general principle on which this machinery operates, in doing its -work, may perhaps be made intelligible to the reader by description. -The action is regulated by what are called _patterns_. These patterns -are models in iron of the various surfaces of the stock which it is -intended to form. Let us suppose, for example, that the large cavity -intended to receive the lock is to be cut. The stock on which the -operation is to be performed is placed in its bed in the machine, and -over it, pendant from a certain movable frame-work of polished steel -above, is the cutting tool, a sort of bit or borer, which is to do the -work. This borer is made to revolve with immense velocity, and is at -the same time susceptible of various other motions at the pleasure of -the workman. It may be brought down upon the work, and moved there -from side to side, so as to cut out a cavity of any required shape; -and such is the mechanism of the machine that these vertical and -lateral motions may be made very freely without at all interfering -with the swift rotation on which the cutting power of the tool -depends. This is effected by causing the tool to revolve by means of -small machinery within its frame, while the frame and all within it -moves together in the vertical and lateral motions. - -Now if this were all, it is plain that the cutting of the cavity in -the stock would depend upon the action of the workman, and the form -given to it would be determined by the manner in which he should guide -the tool in its lateral motions, and by the depth to which he should -depress it. But this is not all. At a little distance from the cutter, -and parallel to it is another descending rod, which is called the -guide; and this guide is so connected with the cutting tool, by means -of a very complicated and ingenious machinery, that the latter is -governed rigidly and exactly in all its movements by the motion of the -former. Now there is placed immediately beneath the guide, what is -called the pattern, that is a cavity in a block of iron of precisely -the form and size which it is intended to give to the cavity in the -wooden stock. All that the workman has to do therefore, when the -machine is put in motion is to bring the guide down into the pattern -and move it about the circumference and through the centre of it. The -cutting tool imitating precisely the motions of the guide, enters the -wood, and cutting its way in the most perfect manner and with -incredible rapidity, forms an exact duplicate of the cavity in the -pattern. The theory of this operation is sufficiently curious and -striking--but the wonder excited by it is infinitely enhanced by -seeing the work done. It is on this principle substantially that all -the machines of the Stocking Shop are constructed; every separate -recess, perforation, or groove of the piece requiring of course its -own separate mechanism. The stocks are passed from one of these -engines to another in rapid succession, and come out at last, each one -the perfect fac-simile of its fellow. - - -DIVISION OF LABOR. - -We have said that the number of separate parts which go to compose a -musket is forty-nine; but this by no means denotes the number of -distinct operations required in the manufacture of it--for almost -every one of these forty-nine parts is subject to many distinct -operations, each of which has its own name, is assigned to its own -separate workman, and is paid for distinctly and by itself, according -to the price put upon it in the general tariff of wages. The number of -operations thus separately named, catalogued and priced, is _three -hundred and ninety-six_. - -These operations are entirely distinct from one another--each -constituting, as it were, in some sense a distinct trade, so that it -might be quite possible that no one man in the whole establishment -should know how to perform any two of them. It is quite certain, in -fact, that no man can perform any considerable number of them. They -are of very various grades in respect to character and price--from the -welding of the barrel which is in some points of view the highest and -most responsible of all, down to the cutting out of pins and screws of -the most insignificant character. They are all however regularly -rated, and the work that is performed upon them is paid for by the -piece. - - -ASSEMBLING THE MUSKET. - -[Illustration: ASSEMBLING THE MUSKET.] - -When the several parts are all finished, the operation of putting them -together so as to make up the musket from them complete, is called -"assembling the musket." The workman who performs this function has -all the various parts before him at his bench, arranged in boxes and -compartments, in regular order, and taking one component from this -place, and another from that, he proceeds to put the complicated piece -of mechanism together. His bench is fitted up expressly for the work -which he is to perform upon it, with a vice to hold without marring, -and rests to support without confining, and every other convenience -and facility which experience and ingenuity can suggest. With these -helps, and by means of the dexterity which continued practice gives -him, he performs the work in a manner so adroit and rapid, as to -excite the wonder of every beholder. In fact it is always a pleasure -to see any thing done that is done with grace and dexterity, and this -is a pleasure which the visitor to the Armory has an opportunity to -enjoy at almost every turn. - -The component parts of the musket are all made according to one -precise pattern, and thus when taken up at random they are sure to -come properly together. There is no individual fitting required in -each particular case. Any barrel will fit into any stock, and a screw -designed for a particular plate or band, will enter the proper hole in -any plate or band of a hundred thousand. There are many advantages -which result from this precise conformity to an established pattern in -the components of the musket. In the first place the work of -manufacturing it is more easily performed in this way. It is always -the tendency of machinery to produce similarity in its results, and -thus although where only two things are to be made it is very -difficult to get them alike, the case is very different where there is -a call for two hundred thousand. In this last case it is far easier -and cheaper to have them alike than to have them different; for in -manufacturing on such a scale a machinery is employed, which results -in fashioning every one of its products on the precise model to which -the inventor adapted the construction of it. Then, besides, a great -convenience and economy results from this identity of form in the -component parts of the musket, when the arms are employed in service. -Spare screws, locks, bands, springs, &c., can be furnished in -quantities, and sent to any remote part of the country wherever they -are required; so that when any part of a soldier's gun becomes injured -or broken, its place can be immediately supplied by a new piece, which -is sure to fit as perfectly into the vacancy as the original occupant. -Even after a battle there is nothing to prevent the surviving soldiers -from making up themselves, out of a hundred broken and dismantled -muskets, fifty good ones as complete and sound as ever, by rejecting -what is damaged, and assembling the uninjured parts anew. - -To facilitate such operations as these the mechanism by which the -various parts of the musket are attached to each other and secured in -their places, is studiously contrived with a view to facilitating in -the highest degree the taking of them apart, and putting them -together. Each soldier to whom a musket is served is provided with a -little tool, which, though very simple in its construction, consists -of several parts and is adapted to the performance of several -functions. With the assistance of this tool the soldier sitting on the -bank by the roadside, at a pause in the middle of his march, if the -regulations of the service would allow him to do so, might separate -his gun into its forty-seven components, and spread the parts out upon -the grass around him. Then if any part was doubtful he could examine -it. If any was broken he could replace it--and after having finished -his inspection he could reconstruct the mechanism, and march on as -before. - -It results from this system that to make any change, however slight, -in the pattern of the musket or in the form of any of the parts of it, -is attended with great difficulty and expense. The fashion and form of -every one of the component portions of the arm, are very exactly and -rigidly determined by the machinery that is employed in making it, and -any alteration, however apparently insignificant, would require a -change in this machinery. It becomes necessary, therefore, that the -precise pattern both of the whole musket and of all of its parts, once -fixed, should remain permanently the same. - -The most costly of the parts which lie before the workman in -assembling the musket is the barrel. The value of it complete is three -dollars. From the barrel we go down by a gradually descending scale to -the piece of smallest value, which is a little wire called the ramrod -spring wire--the value of which is only one mill; that is the workman -is paid only one dollar a thousand for the manufacture of it. The time -expended in assembling a musket is about ten minutes, and the price -paid for the work is four cents. - - -THE ARSENAL. - -[Illustration: THE NEW ARSENAL.] - -The New Arsenal, which has already been alluded to in the description -of the general view of the Arsenal grounds, is a very stately edifice. -It is two hundred feet long, seventy feet wide, and fifty feet high. -It is divided into three stories, each of which is calculated to -contain one hundred thousand muskets, making three hundred thousand in -all. The muskets when stored in this arsenal are arranged in racks set -up for the purpose along the immense halls, where they stand upright -in rows, with the glittering bayonets shooting up, as it were, above. -The visitors who go into the arsenal walk up and down the aisles which -separate the ranges of racks, admiring the symmetry and splendor of -the display. - -The Arsenal has another charm for visitors besides the beauty of the -spectacle which the interior presents--and that is the magnificent -panorama of the surrounding country, which is seen from the summit of -the tower. This tower, which occupies the centre of the building, is -about ninety feet high--and as it is about thirty feet square, the -deck at the top furnishes space for a large party of visitors to stand -and survey the surrounding country. Nothing can be imagined more -enchanting than the view presented from this position in the month of -June. The Armory grounds upon one side, and the streets of the town -upon the other lie, as it were, at the feet of the spectator, while in -the distance the broad and luxuriant valley of the Connecticut is -spread out to view, with its villages, its fields, its groves, its -bridges, its winding railways, and its serpentine and beautiful -streams. - - -THE ADMINISTRATION OF THE ARMORY. - -[Illustration: QUARTERS OF THE COMMANDING OFFICER.] - -The manufacture of muskets being a work that pertains in some sense to -the operations of the army, should be, for that reason, under -_military_ rule. On the other hand, inasmuch as it is wholly a work of -mechanical and peaceful industry, a _civil_ administration would seem -to be most appropriate for it. There is, in fact, a standing dispute -on this subject both in relation to the Armory at Springfield and to -that at Harper's Ferry, among those interested in the establishments, -and it is a dispute which, perhaps, will never be finally settled. The -Springfield Armory is at this time under military rule--the present -commanding officer, Colonel Ripley, having been put in charge of it -about ten years ago, previous to which time it was under civil -superintendence. At the time of Col. Ripley's appointment the works, -as is universally acknowledged, were in a very imperfect condition, -compared with the present state. On entering upon the duties of his -office, the new incumbent engaged in the work of improvement with -great resolution and energy, and after contending for several years -with the usual obstacles and difficulties which men have to encounter -in efforts at progress and reform, he succeeded in bringing the -establishment up to a state of very high perfection; and now the -order, the system, the neatness, the almost military exactness and -decorum which pervade every department of the works are the theme of -universal admiration. The grounds are kept in the most perfect -condition--the shops are bright and cheerful, the walls and floors are -every where neat and clean, the machinery and tools are perfect, and -are all symmetrically and admirably arranged, while the workmen are -well dressed, and are characterized by an air of manliness, -intelligence, and thrift, that suggests to the mind of the visitor the -idea of amateur mechanics, working with beautiful tools, for pleasure. - -And yet the men at first complained, sometimes, of the stringency of -rules and regulations required to produce these results. These rules -are still in force, though now they are very generally acquiesced in. -No newspapers of any kind can be taken into the shops, no tobacco or -intoxicating drinks can be used there, no unnecessary conversation is -allowed, and the regulations in respect to hours of attendance, and to -responsibility for damaged work are very definite and strict. But even -if the workmen should be disposed in any case to complain of the -stringency of these requirements, they can not but be proud of the -result; for they take a very evident pleasure in the gratification -which every visitor manifests in witnessing the system, the order, the -neatness, and the precision that every where prevail. - -Nothing can be more admirably planned, or more completely and -precisely executed than the system of accounts kept at the offices, by -which not only every pecuniary transaction, but also, as would seem, -almost every mechanical operation or act that takes place throughout -the establishment is made a matter of record. Thus every thing is -checked and regulated. No piece, large or small, can be lost from -among its hundreds of fellows without being missed somewhere in some -column of figures--and the whole history of every workman's doings, -and of every piece of work done, is to be found recorded. Ask the -master-armorer any questions whatever about the workings of the -establishment, whether relating to the minutest detail, or to most -comprehensive and general results, and he takes down a book and shows -you the answer in some column or table. - -After all, however, this neatness, precision, and elegance in the -appearance and in the daily workings of an establishment like this, -though very agreeable to the eye of the observer, constitute a test of -only secondary importance in respect to the actual character of the -administration that governs it. To judge properly on this point, the -thing to be looked at is the actual and substantial results that are -obtained. The manufacture of muskets is the great function of the -Armory, and not the exhibition of beautiful workshops, and curious -processes in mechanics for the entertainment of visitors. When we -inquire, however, into the present arrangement of this establishment, -in this point of view, the conclusion seems to be still more decidedly -in its favor than in the other. The cost of manufacturing each musket -immediately before the commencement of the term of the present -commander was about seventeen dollars and a half. During the past year -it has been eight dollars and three quarters, and yet the men are paid -better wages now per day, or, rather, they are paid at such rates for -their work, that they can earn more now per day, than then. The saving -has thus not been at all made from the pay of the workmen, but wholly -from the introduction of new and improved modes of manufacture, better -machines, a superior degree of order, system, and economy in every -department, and other similar causes. How far the improvements which -have thus been made are due to the intrinsic qualities of military -government, and how far to the personal efficiency of the officer in -this case intrusted with the administration of it, it might be -somewhat difficult to decide. - -In fact, when judging of the advancement made during a period of ten -years, in an establishment of this kind, at the present age of the -world, some considerable portion of the improvement that is manifested -is due, doubtless, to the operation of those causes which are -producing a general progress in all the arts and functions of social -life. The tendency of every thing is onward. Every where, and for all -purposes, machinery is improving, materials are more and more easily -procured, new facilities are discovered and new inventions are made, -the results of which inure to the common benefit of all mankind. It is -only so far as an establishment like the Armory advances at a more -rapid rate than that of the general progress of the age, that any -special credit is due to those who administer its affairs. It always -seems, however, to strangers visiting the Armory and observing its -condition, that these general causes will account for but a small -portion of the results which have been attained in the management of -it, during the past ten years. - - -CONCLUSION. - -As was stated at the commencement of the article, it is only a small -part of the hundreds of thousands of muskets manufactured, that are -destined ever to be used. Some portion of the whole number are served -out to the army, and are employed in Indian warfare, others are -destined to arm garrisons in various fortresses and military posts, -where they are never called to any other service than to figure in -peaceful drillings and parades. Far the greater portion, however, are -sent away to various parts of the country, to be stored in the -national arsenals, where they lie, and are to lie, as we hope, -forever, undisturbed, in the midst of scenes of rural beauty and -continued peace. The flowers bloom and the birds sing unmolested -around the silent and solitary depositories, where these terrible -instruments of carnage and destruction unconsciously and forever -repose. - - - - -NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.[A] - -BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT. - - [Footnote A: 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.] - - -PEACE WITH ENGLAND. - -It was the first great object of Napoleon, immediately upon his -accession to power, to reconcile France with Europe, and to make peace -with all the world. France was weary of war. She needed repose, to -recover from the turmoil of revolution. Napoleon, conscious of the -necessities of France, was consecrating Herculean energies for the -promotion of peace. The Directory, by oppressive acts, had excited the -indignation of the United States. Napoleon, by a course of -conciliation, immediately removed that hostility, and, but a short -time before the treaty of Luneville, ratified a treaty of amity -between France and the United States. The signature of this treaty was -celebrated with great rejoicings at the beautiful country seat which -Joseph, who in consequence of his marriage was richer than his -brother, had purchased at Morfontaine. Napoleon, accompanied by a -brilliant party, met the American commissioners there. The most -elegant decorations within the mansion and in the gardens, represented -France and America joined in friendly union. Napoleon presented the -following toast: "The memory of the French and the Americans who died -on the field of battle for the independence of the New World." Lebrun, -the Second Consul, proposed, "The union of America with the Northern -powers, to enforce respect for the liberty of the seas." Cambaceres -gave for the third toast, "The successor of Washington." Thus did -Napoleon endeavor to secure the friendship of the United States. - -About this time Pope Pius VI. died, and the Cardinals met to choose -his successor. The respect with which Napoleon had treated the Pope, -and his kindness to the emigrant priests, during the first Italian -campaign, presented so strong a contrast with the violence enjoined by -the Directory, as to produce a profound impression upon the minds of -the Pope and the Cardinals. - -The Bishop of Imola was universally esteemed for his extensive -learning, his gentle virtues, and his firm probity. Upon the occasion -of the union of his diocese with the Cisalpine Republic, he preached a -very celebrated sermon, in which he spoke of the conduct of the French -in terms highly gratifying to the young conqueror. The power of -Napoleon was now in the ascendant. It was deemed important to -conciliate his favor. "It is from France," said Cardinal Gonsalvi, -"that persecutions have come upon us for the last ten years. It is -from France, perhaps, that we shall derive aid and consolation for the -future. A very extraordinary young man, one very difficult as yet to -judge, holds dominion there at the present day. His influence will -soon be paramount in Italy. Remember that he protected the priests in -1797. He has recently conferred funeral honors upon Pius VI." These -were words of deep foresight. They were appreciated by the sagacious -Cardinals. To conciliate the favor of Napoleon, the Bishop of Imola -was elected to the pontifical chair as Pope Pius VII. - -Naples had been most perfidious in its hostility to France. The Queen -of Naples was a proud daughter of Maria Theresa, and sister of the -Emperor of Austria and of the unfortunate Marie Antoinette. She surely -must not be too severely condemned for execrating a revolution which -had consigned her sister to the dungeon and to the guillotine. Naples, -deprived of Austrian aid, was powerless. She trembled under -apprehension of the vengeance of Napoleon. The King of Austria could -no longer render his sister any assistance. She adopted the decisive -and romantic expedient of proceeding in person, notwithstanding the -rigor of the approaching winter, to St. Petersburg, to implore the -intercession of the Emperor Paul. The eccentric monarch, flattered by -the supplication of the beautiful queen, immediately espoused her -cause, and dispatched a messenger to Napoleon, soliciting him, as a -personal favor, to deal gently with Naples. The occurrence was, of -course, a triumph and a gratification to Napoleon. Most promptly and -courteously he responded to the appeal. It was indeed his constant -study at this time, to arrest the further progress of the revolution, -to establish the interests of France upon a basis of order and of law, -and to conciliate the surrounding monarchies, by proving to them that -he had no disposition to revolutionize their realms. A word from him -would have driven the King and Queen of Naples into exile, and would -have converted their kingdom into a republic. But Napoleon refused to -utter that word, and sustained the King of Naples upon his throne. - -The Duke of Parma, brother of the King of Spain, had, through the -intercession of Napoleon, obtained the exchange of his duchy, for the -beautiful province of Tuscany. The First Consul had also erected -Tuscany into the kingdom of Etruria, containing about one million of -inhabitants. The old duke, a bigoted prince, inimical to all reform, -had married his son (a feeble, frivolous young man) to the daughter of -his brother, the King of Spain. The kingdom of Etruria was intended -for this youthful pair. Napoleon, as yet but thirty years of age, thus -found himself forming kingdoms and creating kings. The young couple -were in haste to ascend the throne. They could not, however, do this -until the Duke of Parma should die or abdicate. The unaccommodating -old duke refused to do either. Napoleon, desirous of producing a moral -impression in Paris, was anxious to crown them. He therefore allowed -the duke to retain Parma until his death, that his son might be placed -upon the throne of Etruria. He wished to exhibit the spectacle, in the -regicide metropolis of France, of a king created and enthroned by -France. Thus he hoped to diminish the antipathy to kings, and to -prepare the way for that restoration of the monarchical power which -he contemplated. He would also thus conciliate monarchical Europe, by -proving that he had no design of overthrowing every kingly throne. It -was indeed adroitly done. He required, therefore, the youthful princes -to come to Paris, to accept the crown from his hands, as in ancient -Rome vassal monarchs received the sceptre from the Cæsars. The young -candidates for monarchy left Madrid, and repaired to the Tuileries, to -be placed upon the throne by the First Consul. This measure had two -aspects, each exceedingly striking. It frowned upon the hostility of -the people to royalty, and it silenced the clamor against France, as -seeking to spread democracy over the ruins of all thrones. It also -proudly said, in tones which must have been excessively annoying to -the haughty legitimists of Europe, "You kings must be childlike and -humble. You see that I can create such beings as you are." Napoleon, -conscious that his glory elevated him far above the ancient dynasty, -whose station he occupied, was happy to receive the young princes with -pomp and splendor. The versatile Parisians, ever delighted with -novelty, forgot the twelve years of bloody revolutions, which had -overturned so many thrones, and recognizing, in this strange -spectacle, the fruits of their victories, and the triumph of their -cause, shouted most enthusiastically, "Long live the king!" The -royalists, on the other hand, chagrined and sullen, answered -passionately, "Down with kings!" Strange reverse! yet how natural! -Each party must have been surprised and bewildered at its own novel -position. In settling the etiquette of this visit, it was decided that -the young princes should call first upon Napoleon, and that he should -return their call the next day. The First Consul, at the head of his -brilliant military staff, received the young monarch with parental -kindness and with the most delicate attentions, yet with the -universally recognized superiorities of power and glory. The princes -were entertained at the magnificent chateau of Talleyrand at Neuilly, -with most brilliant festivals and illuminations. For a month the -capital presented a scene of most gorgeous spectacles. Napoleon, too -entirely engrossed with the cares of empire to devote much time to -these amusements, assigned the entertainment of his guests to his -ministers. Nevertheless he endeavored to give some advice to the young -couple about to reign over Etruria. He was much struck with the -weakness of the prince, who cherished no sense of responsibility, and -was entirely devoted to trivial pleasures. He was exceedingly -interested in the mysteries of cotillions, of leap-frog, and of -hide-and-go-seek--and was ever thus trifling with the courtiers. -Napoleon saw that he was perfectly incapable of governing, and said to -one of his ministers, "You perceive that they are princes, descended -from an ancient line. How can the reins of government be intrusted to -such hands? But it was well to show to France this specimen of the -Bourbons. She can judge if these ancient dynasties are equal to the -difficulties of an age like ours." As the young king left Paris for -his dominions, Napoleon remarked to a friend, "Rome need not be -uneasy. There is no danger of _his_ crossing the Rubicon." Napoleon -sent one of his generals to Etruria with the royal pair, ostensibly as -the minister of France, but in reality as the viceroy of the First -Consul. The feeble monarch desired only the rank and splendor of a -king, and was glad to be released from the _cares_ of empire. Of all -the proud acts performed by Napoleon during his extraordinary career, -this creation of the Etruscan king, when viewed in all its aspects, -was perhaps the proudest. - -Madame de Montesson had become the guilty paramour of the Duke of -Orleans, grandfather of Louis Phillipe. She was not at all ashamed of -this relation, which was sanctioned by the licentiousness of the -times. Proud even of this alliance with a prince of the blood, she -fancied that it was her privilege, as the only relative of the royal -line then in Paris, to pay to the King and Queen of Etruria such -honors as they might be gratified in receiving from the remains of the -old court society. She therefore made a brilliant party, inviting all -the returned emigrants of illustrious birth. She even had the boldness -to invite the family of the First Consul, and the distinguished -persons of his suite. The invitation was concealed from Napoleon, as -his determination to frown upon all immorality was well known. The -next morning Napoleon heard of the occurrence, and severely -reprimanded those of his suite who had attended the party, dwelling -with great warmth upon the impropriety of countenancing vice in high -places. Savary, who attended the party, and shared in the reprimand, -says, that Madame de Montesson would have been severely punished had -it not been for the intervention of Josephine, who was ever ready to -plead for mercy. - -Napoleon having made peace with continental Europe, now turned his -attention earnestly to England, that he might compel that unrelenting -antagonist to lay down her arms. "France," said he, "will not reap all -the blessings of a pacification, until she shall have a peace with -England. But a sort of delirium has seized on that government, which -now holds nothing sacred. Its conduct is unjust, not only toward the -French people, but toward all the other powers of the Continent. And -when governments are not just their authority is short-lived. All the -continental powers must force England to fall back into the track of -moderation, of equity, and of reason." Notwithstanding this state of -hostilities it is pleasant to witness the interchange of the courtesy -of letters. Early in January of 1801, Napoleon sent some very valuable -works, magnificently bound, as a present to the Royal Society of -London. A complimentary letter accompanied the present, -signed--BONAPARTE, _President of the National Institute, and First -Consul of France_. As a significant intimation of his principles, -there was on the letter a finely-executed vignette, representing -Liberty sailing on the ocean in an open shell with the following -motto: - - "LIBERTY OF THE SEAS." - -England claimed the right of visiting and searching merchant ships, to -whatever nation belonging, whatever the cargoes, wherever the -destination. For any resistance of this right, she enforced the -penalty of the confiscation of both ship and cargo. She asserted that -nothing was necessary to constitute a blockade but to announce the -fact, and to station a vessel to cruise before a blockaded port. Thus -all the nations of the world were forbidden by England to approach a -port of France. The English government strenuously contended that -these principles were in accordance with the established regulations -of maritime law. The neutral powers, on the other hand, affirmed that -these demands were an usurpation on the part of England, founded on -power, unsanctioned by the usages of nations, or by the principles of -maritime jurisprudence. "Free ships," said they, "make free goods. The -flag covers the merchandise. A port is to be considered blockaded only -when such a force is stationed at its mouth as renders it dangerous to -enter." - -Under these circumstances, it was not very difficult for Napoleon to -turn the arms of the united world against his most powerful foe. -England had allied all the powers of Europe against France. Now -Napoleon combined them all in friendly alliance with him, and directed -their energies against his unyielding and unintimidated assailant. -England was mistress of the seas. Upon that element she was more -powerful than all Europe united. It was one great object of the -British ministry to prevent any European power from becoming the -maritime rival of England. Napoleon, as he cast his eye over his -magnificent empire of forty millions of inhabitants, and surveyed his -invincible armies, was excessively annoyed that the fifteen millions -of people, crowded into the little island of England, should have -undisputed dominion over the whole wide world of waters. The English -have ever been respected, above all other nations, for wealth, power, -courage, intelligence, and all stern virtues; but they never have been -beloved. The English nation is at the present moment the most -powerful, the most respected, and the most unpopular upon the surface -of the globe. Providence deals in compensations. It is perhaps -unreasonable to expect that all the virtues should be centred in one -people. "When," exclaimed Napoleon, "will the French exchange their -vanity for a little pride?" It may be rejoined, "When will the English -lay aside their pride for a little vanity--that perhaps more ignoble, -but certainly better-natured foible?" England, abandoned by all her -allies, continued the war, apparently because her pride revolted at -the idea of being conquered into a peace. And in truth England had not -been vanquished at all. Her fleets were every where triumphant. The -blows of Napoleon, which fell with such terrible severity upon her -allies, could not reach her floating batteries. The genius of Napoleon -overshadowed the land. The genius of Pitt swept the seas. The commerce -of France was entirely annihilated. The English navy, in the utter -destitution of nobler game, even pursued poor French fishermen, and -took away their haddock and their cod. The verdict of history will -probably pronounce that this was at least a less magnificent rapacity -than to despoil regal and ducal galleries of the statues of Phidias -and the cartoons of Raphael. - -England declared France to be in a state of blockade, and forbade all -the rest of the world from having any commercial intercourse with her. -Her invincible fleet swept all seas. Wherever an English frigate -encountered any merchant ship, belonging to whatever nation, a shot -was fired across her bows as a very emphatic command to stop. If the -command was unheeded a broadside followed, and the peaceful -merchantman became lawful prize. If the vessel stopped, a boat was -launched from the frigate, a young lieutenant ascended the sides of -the merchantman, demanded of the captain the papers, and searched the -ship. If he found on board any goods which _he judged_ to belong to -France, he took them away. If he could find any goods which he could -consider as munitions of war, and which in his judgment the ship was -conveying to France, the merchantman, with all its contents was -confiscated. Young lieutenants in the navy are not proverbial for -wasting many words in compliments. They were often overbearing and -insolent. England contended that these were the established principles -of maritime law. All the nations of Europe, now at peace with France, -excessively annoyed at this _right of search_, which was rigorously -enforced, declared it to be an intolerable usurpation on the part of -England. Russia, Prussia, Denmark, Sweden, Holland, France, and Spain -united in a great confederacy to resist these demands of the proud -monarch of the seas. The genius of Napoleon formed this grand -coalition. Paul of Russia, now a most enthusiastic admirer of the -First Consul, entered into it with all his soul. England soon found -herself single-handed against the world in arms. With sublime energy -the British ministry collected their strength for the conflict. -Murmurs, however, and remonstrances loud and deep pervaded all -England. The opposition roused itself to new vigor. The government, in -the prosecution of this war, had already involved the nation in a debt -of millions upon millions. But the pride of the English government was -aroused. "What! make peace upon compulsion!" England was conscious of -her maritime power, and feared not the hostility of the world. And the -world presented a wide field from which to collect remuneration for -her losses. She swept the ocean triumphantly. The colonies of the -allies dropped into her hand, like fruit from the overladen bough. -Immediately upon the formation of this confederacy, England issued an -embargo upon every vessel belonging to the allied powers, and also -orders were issued for the immediate capture of any merchant vessels, -belonging to these powers, wherever they could be found. The ocean -instantly swarmed with English privateersmen. Her navy was active -every where. There had been no proclamation of war issued. The -merchants of Europe were entirely unsuspicious of any such calamity. -Their ships were all exposed. By thousands they were swept into the -ports of England. More than half of the ships, belonging to the -northern powers, then at sea, were captured. - -Russia, Denmark, and Sweden, had a large armament in the Baltic. A -powerful English fleet was sent for its destruction. The terrible -energies of Nelson, so resplendent at Aboukir, were still more -resplendent at Copenhagen. A terrific conflict ensued. The capital of -Denmark was filled with weeping and woe, for thousands of her most -noble sons, the young and the joyous, were weltering in blood. "I have -been," said Nelson, "in above a hundred engagements; but that of -Copenhagen was the most terrible of them all." - -In the midst of this terrific cannonade, Nelson was rapidly walking -the quarter-deck, which was slippery with blood and covered with the -dead, who could not be removed as fast as they fell. A heavy shot -struck the main-mast, scattering the splinters in every direction. He -looked upon the devastation around him, and, sternly smiling, said, -"This is warm work, and this day may be the last to any of us in a -moment. But mark me, I would not be elsewhere for thousands." This was -heroic, but it was not noble. It was the love of war, not the love of -humanity. It was the spirit of an Indian chieftain, not the spirit of -a Christian Washington. The commander-in-chief of the squadron, seeing -the appalling carnage, hung out the signal for discontinuing the -action. Nelson was for a moment deeply agitated, and then exclaimed to -a companion, "I have but one eye. I have a right to be blind -sometimes." Then, putting the glass to his blind eye, he said, "I -really don't see the signal. Keep mine for closer battle still flying. -That is the way I answer such signals. Nail mine to the mast." The -human mind is so constituted that it must admire heroism. That -sentiment is implanted in every generous breast for some good purpose. -Welmoes, a gallant young Dane, but seventeen years of age, stationed -himself on a small raft, carrying six guns with twenty-four men, -directly under the bows of Nelson's ship. The unprotected raft was -swept by an incessant storm of bullets from the English marines. Knee -deep in the dead this fearless stripling continued to keep up his fire -to the close of the conflict. The next day, Nelson met him at a repast -at the palace. Admiring the gallantry of his youthful enemy, he -embraced him with enthusiasm, exclaiming to the Crown Prince, "He -deserves to be made an admiral." "Were I to make all my brave officers -admirals," replied the Prince, "I should have no captains or -lieutenants in my service." - -By this battle the power of the confederacy was broken. At the same -time, the Emperor Paul was assassinated in his palace, by his nobles, -and Alexander, his son, ascended the throne. When Napoleon heard of -the death of Paul, it is said that he gave utterance, for the first -time in his life, to that irreverent expression, "Mon Dieu" (_My -God_), which is ever upon the lips of every Frenchman. He regarded his -death as a great calamity to France and to the world. The -eccentricities of the Emperor amounted almost to madness. But his -enthusiastic admiration for Napoleon united France and Russia in a -close alliance. - -The nobles of Russia were much displeased with the democratic equality -which Napoleon was sustaining in France. They plotted the destruction -of the king, and raised Alexander to the throne, pledged to a -different policy. The young monarch immediately withdrew from the -maritime confederacy, and entered into a treaty of peace with England. -These events apparently so disastrous to the interests of France, were -on the contrary highly conducive to the termination of the war. The -English people, weary of the interminable strife, and disgusted with -the oceans of blood which had been shed, more and more clamorously -demanded peace. And England could now make peace without the -mortification of her pride. - -Napoleon was extremely vigilant in sending succor to the army in -Egypt. He deemed it very essential in order to promote the maritime -greatness of France, that Egypt should be retained as a colony. His -pride was also enlisted in proving to the world that he had not -transported forty-six thousand soldiers to Egypt in vain. Vessels of -every description, ships of war, merchantmen, dispatch-boats, sailed -almost daily from the various ports of Holland, France, Spain, Italy, -and even from the coast of Barbary, laden with provisions, European -goods, wines, munitions of war, and each taking a file of French -newspapers. Many of these vessels were captured. Others, however, -escaped the vigilance of the cruisers, and gave to the colony most -gratifying proof of the interest which the First Consul took in its -welfare. While Napoleon was thus daily endeavoring to send partial -relief to the army in Egypt, he was at the same time preparing a vast -expedition to convey thither a powerful reinforcement of troops and -materials of war. Napoleon assembled this squadron at Brest, -ostensibly destined for St. Domingo. He selected seven of the fastest -sailing ships, placed on board of them five thousand men and an ample -supply of all those stores most needed in Egypt. He ordered that each -vessel should contain a complete assortment of every individual -article, prepared for the colony, so that in the event of one vessel -being captured, the colony would not be destitute of the precise -article which that vessel might otherwise have contained. He also, in -several other places, formed similar expeditions, hoping thus to -distract the attention of England, and compel her to divide her forces -to guard all exposed points. Taking advantage of this confusion, he -was almost certain that some of the vessels would reach Egypt. The -plan would have been triumphantly successful, as subsequent events -proved, had the naval commanders obeyed the instructions of Napoleon. -A curious instance now occurred, of what may be called the despotism -of the First Consul. And yet it is not strange that the French people -should, under the peculiar circumstances, have respected and loved -such despotism. The following order was issued to the Minister of -Police: "Citizen Minister--Have the goodness to address a short -circular to the editors of the fourteen journals, forbidding the -insertion of any article, calculated to afford the enemy the slightest -clew to the different movements which are taking place in our -squadrons, unless the intelligence be derived from the official -journal." Napoleon had previously through the regularly constituted -tribunals, suppressed all the journals in Paris, but fourteen. The -world has often wondered why France so readily yielded to the -despotism of Napoleon. It was because the French were convinced that -dictatorial power was essential to the successful prosecution of the -war; and that each act of Napoleon was dictated by the most wise and -sincere patriotism. They were willing to sacrifice the liberty of the -press, that they might obtain victory over their enemies. - -The condition of England was now truly alarming. Nearly all the -civilized world was in arms against her. Her harvests had been cut -off, and a frightful famine ravaged the land. The starving people were -rising in different parts of the kingdom, pillaging the magnificent -country seats of the English aristocracy, and sweeping in riotous mobs -through the cities. The masses in England and in Ireland, wretchedly -perishing of hunger, clamored loudly against Pitt. They alleged that -he was the cause of all their calamities--that he had burdened the -nation with an enormous debt and with insupportable taxes--that by -refusing peace with France, he had drawn all the continental powers -into hostility with England, and thus had deprived the people of that -food from the Continent which was now indispensable for the support of -life. The opposition, seeing the power of Pitt shaken, redoubled their -blows. Fox, Tiernay, Grey, Sheridan, and Holland renewed their attacks -with all the ardor of anticipated success. "Why," said they, "did you -not make peace with France, when the First Consul proposed it before -the battle of Marengo? Why did you not consent to peace, when it was -again proposed after that battle? Why did you refuse consent to -separate negotiation, when Napoleon was willing to enter into such -without demanding the cessation of hostilities by sea?" They -contrasted the distress of England with the prosperity of France. -"France," said they, "admirably governed, is at peace with Europe. In -the eyes of the world, she appears humane, wise, tranquil, evincing -the most exemplary moderation after all her victories." With bitter -irony they exclaimed, "What have you now to say of this young -Bonaparte, of this rash youth who, according to the ministerial -language, was only doomed to enjoy a brief existence, like his -predecessors, so ephemeral, that it did not entitle him to be treated -with?" - -Pitt was disconcerted by the number of his enemies, and by the clamors -of a famishing people. His proud spirit revolted at the idea of -changing his course. He could only reiterate his argument, that if he -had not made war against revolutionary France, England would also have -been revolutionized. There is an aspect of moral sublimity in the -firmness with which this distinguished minister breasted a world in -arms. "As to the demand of the neutral powers," said he, "we must -envelop ourselves in our flag, and proudly find our grave in the deep, -rather than admit the validity of such principles in the maritime code -of nations." Though Pitt still retained his numerical majority in the -Parliament, the masses of the people were turning with great power -against him, and he felt that his position was materially weakened. -Under these circumstances, Pitt, idolized by the aristocracy, -execrated by the democracy, took occasion to send in his resignation. -The impression seemed to be universal, that the distinguished -minister, perceiving that peace must be made with France, temporarily -retired, that it might be brought about by others, rather than by -himself. He caused himself, however, to be succeeded by Mr. Addington, -a man of no distinguished note, but entirely under his influence. The -feeble intellect of the King of England, though he was one of the most -worthy and conscientious of men, was unequal to these political -storms. A renewed attack of insanity incapacitated him for the -functions of royalty. Mr. Pitt, who had been prime minister for -seventeen years, became by this event virtually the king of England, -and Mr. Addington was his minister. - -Napoleon now announced to the world his determination to struggle hand -to hand with England, until he had compelled that government to cease -to make war against France. Conscious of the naval superiority of his -foes, he avowed his resolve to cross the channel with a powerful army, -march directly upon London, and thus compel the cabinet of St. James's -to make peace. It was a desperate enterprise; so desperate that to the -present day it is doubted whether Napoleon ever seriously contemplated -carrying it into effect. It was, however, the only measure Napoleon -could now adopt. The naval superiority of England was so undeniable, -that a maritime war was hopeless. Nelson, in command of the fleet of -the channel, would not allow even a fishing boat to creep out from a -French cove. Napoleon was very desirous of securing in his favor the -popular opinion of England, and the sympathies of the whole European -public. He prepared with his own hand many articles for the -"Moniteur," which were models of eloquent and urgent polemics, and -which elicited admiration from readers in all countries. He wrote in -the most respectful and complimentary terms of the new English -ministry, representing them as intelligent, upright, and -well-intentioned men. He endeavored to assure Europe of the -unambitious desires of France, and contrasted her readiness to -relinquish the conquests which she had made, with the eager grasp with -which the English held their enormous acquisitions in India, and in -the islands of the sea. With the utmost delicacy, to avoid offending -the pride of Britain, he affirmed that a descent upon England would be -his last resource, that he fully appreciated the bravery and the power -of the English, and the desperate risks which he should encounter in -such an undertaking. But he declared that there was no other -alternative left to him, and that if the English ministers were -resolved that the war should not be brought to a close, but by the -destruction of one of the two nations, there was not a Frenchman who -would not make the most desperate efforts to terminate this cruel -quarrel to the glory of France. "But why," exclaimed he, in words -singularly glowing and beautiful, but of melancholy import, "why place -the question on this last resort? Wherefore not put an end to the -sufferings of humanity? Wherefore risk in this manner the lot of two -great nations? Happy are nations when, having arrived at high -prosperity, they have wise governments, which care not to expose -advantages so vast, to the caprices and vicissitudes of a single -stroke of fortune." These most impressive papers, from the pen of the -First Consul, remarkable for their vigorous logic and impassioned -eloquence, produced a deep impression upon all minds. This -conciliatory language was accompanied by the most serious -demonstrations of force upon the shores of the Channel. One hundred -thousand men were upon the coasts of France, in the vicinity of -Boulogne, preparing for the threatened invasion. Boats without number -were collected to transport the troops across the narrow channel. It -was asserted that by taking advantage of a propitious moment -immediately after a storm had scattered the English fleet, France -could concentrate such a force as to obtain a temporary command of the -channel, and the strait could be crossed by the invaders. England was -aroused thoroughly, but not alarmed. The militia was disciplined, the -whole island converted into a camp. Wagons were constructed for the -transportation of troops to any threatened point. It is important that -the reader should distinguish this first threat of invasion in 1801, -from that far more powerful naval and military organization executed -for the same purpose in 1804, and known under the name of the Camp of -Boulogne. - -Not a little uneasiness was felt in England respecting the temporary -success of the great conqueror. Famine raged throughout the island. -Business was at a stand. The taxes were enormous. Ireland was on the -eve of revolt. The mass of the English people admired the character of -Napoleon; and, notwithstanding all the efforts of the government, -regarded him as the foe of aristocracy and the friend of popular -rights. Nelson, with an invincible armament, was triumphantly sweeping -the Channel, and a French gun-boat could not creep round a head-land -without encountering the vigilance of the energetic hero. Napoleon, in -escaping from Egypt, had caught Nelson napping in a lady's lap. The -greatest admirers of the naval hero, could not but smile, half-pleased -that, under the guilty circumstances, he had met with the -misadventure. He was anxious, by a stroke of romantic heroism, to -obliterate this impression from the public mind. The vast flotilla of -France, most thoroughly manned and armed under the eye of Napoleon, -was anchored at Boulogne, in three divisions, in a line parallel to -the shore. Just before the break of day on the 4th of August, the -fleet of Nelson, in magnificent array, approached the French flotilla, -and for sixteen hours rained down upon it a perfect tornado of balls -and shells. The gun-boats were, however, chained to one another, and -to the shore. He did not succeed in taking a single boat, and retired -mortified at his discomfiture, and threatening to return in a few days -to take revenge. The French were exceedingly elated that in a naval -conflict they had avoided defeat. As they stood there merely upon -self-defense, victory was out of the question. - -The reappearance of Nelson was consequently daily expected, and the -French, emboldened by success, prepared to give him a warm reception. -Twelve days after, on the 16th of August, Nelson again appeared with a -vastly increased force. In the darkness of the night he filled his -boats with picked men, to undertake one of the most desperate -enterprises on record. In four divisions, with muffled oars, this -forlorn hope, in the silence of midnight, approached the French -flotilla. The butchery, with swords, hatchets, bayonets, bullets, and -hand grenades, was hideous. Both parties fought with perfect fury. No -man seemed to have the slightest regard for limb or life. England was -fighting for, she knew not what. The French were contending in -self-defense. For four long hours of midnight gloom, the slaughter -continued. Thousands perished. Just as the day was dawning upon the -horrid scene the English retired, repulsed at every point, and -confessing to a defeat. The result of these conflicts diminished the -confidence of the English in Nelson's ability to destroy the -preparations of Napoleon, and increased their apprehension that the -French might be enabled by some chance, to carry the war of invasion -to their own firesides. - -"I was resolved," said Napoleon, afterward, "to renew, at Cherbourg, -the wonders of Egypt. I had already raised in the sea my pyramid. I -would also have had my Lake Mareotis. My great object was to -concentrate all our maritime forces, and in time they would have been -immense, in order to be able to deal out a grand stroke at the enemy. -I was establishing my ground so as to bring the two nations, as it -were, body to body. The ultimate issue could not be doubtful; for we -had forty millions of French against fifteen millions of English. I -would have terminated the strife by a battle of Actium." - -One after another of the obstacles in the way of peace now gradually -gave way. Overtures were made to Napoleon. He accepted the advances of -England with the greatest eagerness and cordiality. "Peace," said he, -"is easily brought about, if England desires it." On the evening of -the 21st of October the preliminaries were signed in London. That very -night a courier left England to convey the joyful intelligence to -France. He arrived at Malmaison, the rural retreat of Napoleon, at -four o'clock in the afternoon of the next day. At that moment the -three Consuls were holding a government council. The excitement of -joy, in opening the dispatches, was intense. The Consuls ceased from -their labors, and threw themselves into each other's arms in cordial -embraces. Napoleon, laying aside all reserve, gave full utterance to -the intense joy which filled his bosom. It was for him a proud -accomplishment. In two years, by his genius and his indefatigable -exertions he had restored internal order to France, and peace to the -world. Still, even in this moment of triumph, his entire, never -wavering devotion to the welfare of France, like a ruling passion -strong even in death, rose above his exultation. "Now that we have -made a treaty of _peace_ with England," said Cambaceres, "we must make -a treaty of _commerce_, and remove all subjects of dispute between the -two countries." Napoleon promptly replied, "Not so fast! The political -peace is made. So much the better. Let us enjoy it. As to a commercial -peace we will make one, if we can. _But at no price will I sacrifice -French industry._ I remember the misery of 1786." The news had been -kept secret in London for twenty-four hours, that the joyful -intelligence might be communicated in both capitals at the same time. -The popular enthusiasm both in England and France bordered almost upon -delirium. It was the repose of the Continent. It was general, -universal peace. It was opening the world to the commerce of all -nations. War spreads over continents the glooms of the world of woe; -while peace illumines them with the radiance of Heaven. Illuminations -blazed every where. Men, the most phlegmatic, met and embraced each -other with tears. The people of England surrendered themselves to the -most extraordinary transports of ardor. They loved the French. They -adored the hero, the sage, the great pacificator, who governed France. -The streets of London resounded with shouts, "Long live Bonaparte." -Every stage-coach which ran from London, bore triumphant banners, upon -which were inscribed, _Peace with France_. The populace of London -rushed to the house of the French negotiator. He had just entered his -carriage to visit Lord Hawkesbury, to exchange ratifications. The -tumultuous throng of happy men unharnessed his horses and dragged him -in triumph, in the delirium of their joy rending the skies with their -shouts. The crowd and the rapturous confusion at last became so great -that Lord Vincent, fearing some accident, placed himself at the head -of the amiable mob, as it triumphantly escorted and conveyed the -carriage from minister to minister. - -A curious circumstance occurred at the festival in London, highly -characteristic of the honest bluntness, resolution, and good nature of -English seamen. The house of M. Otto, the French minister, was most -brilliantly illuminated. Attracted by its surpassing splendor a vast -crowd of sailors had gathered around. The word _concord_ blazed forth -most brilliantly in letters of light. The sailors, not very familiar -with the spelling-book, exclaimed, "_Conquered!_ not so, by a great -deal. That will not do." Excitement and dissatisfaction rapidly -spread. Violence was threatened. M. Otto came forward himself most -blandly, but his attempts at explanation were utterly fruitless. The -offensive word was removed, and _amity_ substituted. The sailors, -fully satisfied with the _amende honorable_, gave three cheers and -went on their way rejoicing. - -In France the exultation was, if possible, still greater than in -England. The admiration of Napoleon, and the confidence in his wisdom -and his patriotism were perfectly unbounded. No power was withheld -from the First Consul which he was willing to assume. The nation -placed itself at his feet. All over the Continent Napoleon received -the honorable title of "_The Hero Pacificator of Europe_." And yet -there was a strong under-current to this joy. Napoleon was the -favorite, not of the nobles, but of the people. Even his acts of -despotic authority were most cordially sustained by the people of -France, for they believed that such acts were essential for the -promotion of their welfare. "The ancient privileged classes and the -foreign cabinets," said Napoleon, "hate me worse than they did -Robespierre." The hosannas with which the name of Bonaparte was -resounding through the cities and the villages of England fell -gloomily upon the ears of Mr. Pitt and his friends. The freedom of the -seas was opening to the energetic genius of Napoleon, an unobstructed -field for the maritime aggrandizement of France. The British minister -knew that the sleepless energies of Napoleon would, as with a -magician's wand, call fleets into existence to explore all seas. -Sorrowfully he contemplated a peace to which the popular voice had -compelled him to yield, and which in his judgment boded no good to the -naval superiority of England. - -It was agreed that the plenipotentiaries, to settle the treaty -definitively, should meet at Amiens, an intermediate point midway -between London and Paris. The English appointed as their minister Lord -Cornwallis. The Americans, remembering this distinguished general at -Brandywine, Camden, and at the surrender of Yorktown, have been in the -habit of regarding him as an enemy. But he was a gallant soldier, and -one of the most humane, high-minded, and estimable of men. Frankly he -avowed his conviction that the time had arrived for terminating the -miseries of the world by peace. Napoleon has paid a noble tribute to -the integrity, urbanity, sagacity, and unblemished honor of Lord -Cornwallis. Joseph Bonaparte was appointed by the First Consul -embassador on the part of France. The suavity of his manners, the -gentleness of his disposition, his enlightened and liberal political -views, and the Christian morality which, in those times of general -corruption, embellished his conduct, peculiarly adapted him to fulfill -the duties of a peace-maker. Among the terms of the treaty it was -agreed that France should abandon her colony in Egypt, as endangering -the English possessions in India. In point of fact, the French -soldiers had already, by capitulation, agreed to leave Egypt, but -tidings of the surrender had not then reached England or France. The -most important question in these deliberations was the possession of -the Island of Malta. The power in possession of that impregnable -fortress had command of the Mediterranean. Napoleon insisted upon it, -as a point important above all others, that England should not retain -Malta. He was willing to relinquish all claim to it himself, and to -place it in the hands of a neutral power; but he declared his -unalterable determination that he could by no possibility consent that -it should remain in the hands of England. At last England yielded, and -agreed to evacuate Malta, and that it should be surrendered to the -Knights of St. John. - -This pacification, so renowned in history both for its establishment -and for its sudden and disastrous rupture, has ever been known by the -name of the Peace of Amiens. Napoleon determined to celebrate the -joyful event by a magnificent festival. The 10th of November, 1801, -was the appointed day. It was the anniversary of Napoleon's attainment -of the consular power. Friendly relations having been thus restored -between the two countries, after so many years of hostility and -carnage, thousands of the English flocked across the channel and -thronged the pavements of Paris. All were impatient to see France, -thus suddenly emerging from such gloom into such unparalleled -brilliancy; and especially to see the man, who at that moment was the -admiration of England and of the world. The joy which pervaded all -classes invested this festival with sublimity. With a delicacy of -courtesy characteristic of the First Consul, no carriages but those of -Lord Cornwallis were allowed in the streets on that day. The crowd of -Parisians, with most cordial and tumultuous acclamations, opened -before the representative of the armies of England. The illustrious -Fox was one of the visitors on this occasion. He was received by -Napoleon with the utmost consideration, and with the most delicate -attentions. In passing through the gallery of sculpture, his lady -pointed his attention to his own statue filling a niche by the side of -Washington and Brutus. "Fame," said Napoleon, "had informed me of the -talents of Fox. I soon found that he possessed a noble character, a -good heart, liberal, generous, and enlightened views. I considered him -an ornament to mankind, and was much attached to him." Every one who -came into direct personal contact with the First Consul at this time, -was charmed with his character. - -Nine deputies from Switzerland, the most able men the republic could -furnish, were appointed to meet Napoleon, respecting the political -arrangements of the Swiss cantons. Punctual to the hour the First -Consul entered a neat spacious room, where there was a long table -covered with green baize. Dr. Jones of Bristol, the intimate friend of -several of these deputies, and who was with them in Paris at the time, -thus describes the interview. "The First Consul entered, followed by -two of his ministers, and after the necessary salutation, sat down at -the head of the table, his ministers on each side of him. The deputies -then took their seats. He spread out before them a large map as -necessary to the subject of their deliberations. He then requested -that they would state freely any objection which might occur to them -in the plan which he should propose. They availed themselves of the -liberty, and suggested several alterations which they deemed -advantageous to France and Switzerland. But from the prompt, clear, -and unanswerable reasons which Napoleon gave in reply to all their -objections, he completely convinced them of the wisdom of his plans. -After an animated discussion of _ten hours_, they candidly admitted -that he was better acquainted with the local circumstances of the -Swiss cantons, and with what would secure their welfare than they were -themselves. During the whole discussion his ministers did not speak -one word. The deputies afterward declared that it was their decided -opinion that Napoleon was the most extraordinary man whom they had met -in modern times, or of whom they had read in ancient history." Said M. -Constant and M. Sismondi, who both knew Napoleon well, "The quickness -of his conception, the depth of his remarks, the facility and -propriety of his eloquence, and above all the candor of his replies -and his patient silence, were more remarkable and attractive than we -ever met with in any other individual." - -"What your interests require," said Napoleon, at this time, "is: 1. -Equality of rights among the whole eighteen cantons. 2. A sincere and -voluntary renunciation of all exclusive privileges on the part of -patrician families. 3. A federative organization, where every canton -may find itself arranged according to its language, its religion, its -manners, and its interests. The central government remains to be -provided for, but it is of much less consequence than the central -organization. Situated on the summit of the mountains which separate -France, Italy, and Germany, you participate in the disposition of all -these countries. You have never maintained regular armies, nor had -established, accredited agents at the courts of the different -governments. Strict neutrality, a prosperous commerce, and family -administration, can alone secure your interests, or be suited to your -wishes. Every organization which could be established among you, -hostile to the interests of France, would injure you in the most -essential particulars." This was commending to them a federative -organization similar to that of the United States, and _cautioning -them against the evil of a centralization of power_. No impartial man -can deny that the most profound wisdom marked the principles which -Napoleon suggested to terminate the divisions with which the cantons -of Switzerland had long been agitated. "These lenient conditions," -says Alison, "gave universal satisfaction in Switzerland." The -following extract from the noble speech which Napoleon pronounced on -the formation of the constitution of the confederacy, will be read by -many with surprise, by all with interest. - -"The re-establishment of the ancient order of things in the democratic -cantons is the best course which can be adopted, both for you and me. -They are the states whose peculiar form of government render them so -interesting in the eyes of all Europe. But for this pure democracy you -would exhibit nothing which is not to be found elsewhere. _Beware of -extinguishing so remarkable a distinction._ I know well that this -democratic system of administration has many inconveniences. But it is -established. It has existed for centuries. It springs from the -circumstances, situation, and primitive habits of the people, from the -genius of the place, and can not with safety be abandoned. You must -never take away from a democratic society the practical exercise of -its privileges. To give such exercise a direction consistent with the -tranquillity of the state is the part of true political wisdom. In -ancient Rome the votes were counted by classes, and they threw into -the last class the whole body of indigent citizens, while the first -contained only a few hundred of the most opulent. But the populace -were content, and, amused with the solicitation of their votes, did -not perceive the immense difference in their relative value." The -moral influence which France thus obtained in Switzerland was regarded -with extreme jealousy by all the rival powers. Says Alison, who, -though imbued most strongly with monarchical and aristocratic -predilections, is the most appreciative and impartial of the -historians of Napoleon, "His conduct and language on this occasion, -were distinguished by his usual penetration and ability, and a most -unusual degree of lenity and forbearance. And if any thing could have -reconciled the Swiss to the loss of their independence, it must have -been the wisdom and equity on which his mediation was founded." - -The English who visited Paris, were astonished at the indications of -prosperity which the metropolis exhibited. They found France in a very -different condition from the hideous picture which had been described -by the London journals. But there were two parties in England. Pitt -and his friends submitted with extreme reluctance to a peace which -they could not avoid. Says Alison, "But while these were the natural -feelings of the inconsiderate populace, who are ever governed by -present impressions, and who were for the most part destitute of the -information requisite to form a rational opinion on the subject, -there were many men, gifted with greater sagacity and foresight, who -deeply lamented the conditions by which peace had been purchased, and -from the very first prophesied that it could be of no long endurance. -They observed that the war had been abruptly terminated, without any -one object being gained for which it was undertaken; that it was -entered into in order to curb the ambition, and to stop the democratic -propagandism of France." These "many men gifted with greater -sagacity," with William Pitt at their head, now employed themselves -with sleepless vigilance and with fatal success to bring to a rupture -a peace which they deemed so untoward. Sir Walter Scott discloses the -feelings with which this party were actuated, in the observations, "It -seems more than probable that the extreme rejoicing of the rabble of -London, at signing the preliminaries, their dragging about the -carriage of Lauriston, and shouting 'Bonaparte forever,' had misled -the ruler of France into an opinion that peace was indispensably -necessary to England. He may easily enough have mistaken the cries of -a London mob for the voice of the British people." - -In the midst of all these cares, Napoleon was making strenuous efforts -to restore religion to France. It required great moral courage to -prosecute such a movement. Nearly all the generals in his armies were -rank infidels, regarding every form of religion with utter contempt. -The religious element, by _nature_, predominated in the bosom of -Napoleon. He was constitutionally serious, thoughtful, pensive. A -profound melancholy ever overshadowed his reflective spirit. His -inquisitive mind pondered the mysteries of the past and the -uncertainties of the future. Educated in a wild country, where the -peasantry were imbued with religious feelings, and having been trained -by a pious mother, whose venerable character he never ceased to adore, -the sight of the hallowed rites of religion revived in his sensitive -and exalted imagination the deepest impressions of his childhood. He -had carefully studied, on his return from Egypt, the New Testament, -and appreciated and profoundly admired its beautiful morality. He -often conversed with Monge, Lagrange, Laplace, sages whom he honored -and loved, and he frequently embarrassed them in their incredulity, by -the logical clearness of his arguments. The witticisms of Voltaire, -and the corruptions of unbridled sin, had rendered the purity of the -gospel unpalatable to France. Talleyrand, annoyed by the remembrance -of his own apostasy, bitterly opposed what he called "the religious -peace." Nearly all the supporters and friends of the First Consul -condemned every effort to bring back that which they denominated the -reign of superstition. Napoleon honestly believed that the interests -of France demanded that God should be recognized and Christianity -respected by the French nation. - -"Hear me," said Napoleon one day earnestly to Monge. "I do not -maintain these opinions through the positiveness of a devotee, but -from reason. My religion is very simple. I look at this universe, so -vast, so complex, so magnificent, and I say to myself that it can not -be the result of chance, but the work, however intended, of an -unknown, omnipotent being, as superior to man as the universe is -superior to the finest machines of human invention. Search the -philosophers, and you will not find a more decisive argument, and you -can not weaken it. But this truth is too succinct for man. He wishes -to know, respecting himself and respecting his future destiny, a crowd -of secrets which the universe does not disclose. Allow religion to -inform him of that which he feels the need of knowing, and respect her -disclosures." - -One day when this matter was under earnest discussion in the council -of state, Napoleon said, "Last evening I was walking alone, in the -woods, amid the solitude of nature. The tones of a distant church bell -fell upon my ear. Involuntarily I felt deep emotion. So powerful is -the influence of early habits and associations. I said to myself, If I -feel thus, what must be the influence of such impressions upon the -popular mind? Let your philosophers answer that, if they can. It is -absolutely indispensable to have a religion for the people. It will be -said that I am a Papist. I am not. I am convinced that a part of -France would become Protestant, were I to favor that disposition. I am -also certain that the much greater portion would continue Catholic; -and that they would oppose, with the greatest zeal, the division among -their fellow-citizens. We should then have the Huguenot wars over -again, and interminable conflicts. But by reviving a religion which -has always prevailed in the country, and by giving perfect liberty of -conscience to the minority, all will be satisfied." - -On another occasion he remarked, "What renders me most hostile to the -establishment of the Catholic worship, are the numerous festivals -formerly observed. A saint's-day is a day of idleness, and I do not -wish for that. People must labor in order to live. I shall consent to -four holidays during the year, but to no more. If the gentlemen from -Rome are not satisfied with that, they may take their departure." The -loss of time appeared to him such a calamity, that he almost -invariably appointed any indispensable celebration upon some day -previously devoted to festivity. - -The new pontiff was attached to Napoleon by the secret chain of mutual -sympathy. They had met, as we have before remarked, during the wars of -Italy. Pius VII., then the bishop of Imola, was surprised and -delighted in finding in the young republican general, whose fame was -filling Europe, a man of refinement, of exalted genius, of reflection, -of serious character, of unblemished purity of life, and of delicate -sensibilities, restraining the irreligious propensities of his -soldiers, and respecting the temples of religion. With classic purity -and eloquence he spoke the Italian language. The dignity and decorum -of his manners, and his love of order, were strangely contrasted with -the recklessness of the ferocious soldiers with whom he was -surrounded. The impression thus produced upon the heart of the pontiff -was never effaced. Justice and generosity are always politic. But he -must indeed be influenced by an ignoble spirit who hence infers, that -every act of magnanimity is dictated by policy. A legate was sent by -the Pope to Paris. "Let the holy father," said Napoleon, "put the -utmost confidence in me. Let him cast himself into my arms, and I will -be for the church another Charlemagne." - -Napoleon had collected for himself a religious library of well chosen -books, relating to the organization and the history of the church, and -to the relations of church and state. He had ordered the Latin -writings of Bossuet to be translated for him. These works he had -devoured in those short intervals which he could glean from the cares -of government. His genius enabled him, at a glance, to master the -argument of an author, to detect any existing sophistry. His memory, -almost miraculously retentive, and the philosophical cast of his mind, -gave him at all times the perfect command of these treasures of -knowledge. He astonished the world by the accuracy, extent, and -variety of his information upon all points of religion. It was his -custom, when deeply interested in any subject, to discuss it with all -persons from whom he could obtain information. With clear, decisive, -and cogent arguments he advocated his own views, and refuted the -erroneous systems successively proposed to him. It was urged upon -Napoleon, that if he must have a church, he should establish a French -church, independent of that of Rome. The poetic element was too strong -in the character of Napoleon for such a thought. "What!" he exclaimed, -"shall I, a warrior, wearing sword and spurs, and doing battle, -attempt to become the head of a church, and to regulate church -discipline and doctrine. I wish to be the pacificator of France and of -the world, and shall I become the originator of a new schism, a little -more absurd and not less dangerous than the preceding ones. I must -have a Pope, and a Pope who will approximate men's minds to each -other, instead of creating divisions; who will reunite them, and give -them to the government sprung from the revolution, as a price for the -protection that he shall have obtained from it. For this purpose I -must have the true Pope, the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman Pope, -whose seat is at the Vatican. With the French armies and some -deference, I shall always be sufficiently his master. When I shall -raise up the altars again, when I shall protect the priests, when I -shall feed them, and treat them as ministers of religion deserve to be -treated in every country, he will do what I ask of him, through the -interest he will have in the general tranquillity. He will calm men's -minds, reunite them under his hand, and place them under mine. Short -of this there is only a continuation and an aggravation of the -desolating schism which is preying on us, and for me an immense and -indelible ridicule." - -The Pope's legate most strenuously urged some of the most arrogant -and exclusive assumptions of the papal church. "The French people must -be allured back to religion," said Napoleon, "not shocked. To declare -the Catholic religion _the religion of the state_ is impossible. It is -contrary to the ideas prevalent in France, and will never be admitted. -In place of this declaration we can only substitute the avowal of the -fact, _that the Catholic religion is the religion of the majority of -Frenchmen_. But there must be perfect freedom of opinion. The -amalgamation of wise and honest men of all parties is the principle of -my government. I must apply that principle to the church as well as to -the state. It is the only way of putting an end to the troubles of -France, and I shall persist in it undeviatingly." - -Napoleon was overjoyed at the prospect, not only of a general peace -with Europe, but of religious peace in France. In all the rural -districts, the inhabitants longed for their churches and their -pastors, and for the rites of religion. In the time of the Directory, -a famous wooden image of the Virgin had been taken from the church at -Loretto, and was deposited in one of the museums of Paris, as a -curiosity. The sincere Catholics were deeply wounded and irritated by -this act, which to them appeared so sacrilegious. Great joy was caused -both in France and Italy, when Napoleon sent a courier to the Pope, -restoring this statue, which was regarded with very peculiar -veneration. The same embassador carried the terms of agreement for -peace with the church. This religious treaty with Rome was called "The -Concordat." The Pope, in secular power, was helpless. Napoleon could, -at any moment, pour a resistless swarm of troops into his territories. -As the French embassador left the Tuileries, he asked the First Consul -for his instructions. "Treat the Pope," said Napoleon, magnanimously, -"as if he had two hundred thousand soldiers." The difficulties in the -way of an amicable arrangement were innumerable. The army of France -was thoroughly infidel. Most of the leading generals and statesmen who -surrounded Napoleon, contemplated Christianity in every aspect with -hatred and scorn. On the other hand, the Catholic Church, uninstructed -by misfortune, was not disposed to abate in the least its arrogant -demands, and was clamorous for concessions which even Napoleon had not -power to confer. It required all the wisdom, forbearance, and tact of -the First Consul to accomplish this reconciliation. Joseph Bonaparte, -the accomplished gentleman, the sincere, urbane, sagacious, upright -man, was Napoleon's _corps de reserve_ in all diplomatic acts. The -preliminaries being finally adjusted, the Pope's legation met at the -house of Joseph Bonaparte, and on the 15th of July, 1801, this great -act was signed. Napoleon announced the event to the Council of State. -He addressed them in a speech an hour and a half in length, and all -were struck with the precision, the vigor, and the loftiness of his -language. By universal consent his speech was pronounced to be -eloquent in the highest degree. But those philosophers, who regarded -it as the great glory of the revolution, that all superstition, by -which they meant all religion, was swept away, in sullen silence -yielded to a power which they could not resist. The people, the -millions of France, were with Napoleon. - -The following liberal and noble sentiments were uttered in the -proclamation by which Napoleon announced the Concordat to the French -people: "An insane policy has sought, during the revolution, to -smother religious dissensions under the ruins of the altar, under the -ashes of religion itself. At its voice all those pious solemnities -ceased, in which the citizens called each other by the endearing name -of brothers, and acknowledged their common equality in the sight of -Heaven. The dying, left alone in his agonies, no longer heard that -consoling voice, which calls the Christian to a better world. God -Himself seemed exiled from the face of nature. Ministers of the -religion of peace, let a complete oblivion vail over your dissensions, -your misfortunes, your faults. Let the religion which unites you, bind -you by indissoluble cords to the interests of your country. Let the -young learn from your precepts, that the God of Peace is also the God -of Arms, and that He throws his shield over those who combat for the -liberties of France. Citizens of the Protestant Faith, the law has -equally extended its solicitude to your interests. Let the morality, -so pure, so holy, so brotherly, which you profess, unite you all in -love to your country, and in respect for its laws; and, above all, -never permit disputes on doctrinal points to weaken that universal -charity which religion at once inculcates and commands." - -To foreign nations the spectacle of France, thus voluntarily returning -to the Christian faith, was gratifying in the highest degree. It -seemed to them the pledge of peace and the harbinger of tranquillity. -The Emperor of Russia, and the King of Prussia publicly expressed -their joy at the auspicious event. The Emperor of Austria styled it "a -service truly rendered to all Europe." The serious and devout, in all -lands, considered the voluntary return of the French people to -religion, from the impossibility of living without its precepts, as -one of the most signal triumphs of the Christian faith. - -On the 11th of April, 1802, the event was celebrated by a magnificent -religious ceremony in the cathedral of Nôtre Dame. No expense was -spared to invest the festivity with the utmost splendor. Though many -of the generals and the high authorities of the State were extremely -reluctant to participate in the solemnities of the occasion, the power -and the popularity of the First Consul were so great, that they dared -not make any resistance. The cathedral was crowded with splendor. The -versatile populace, ever delighted with change and with shows, were -overjoyed. General Rapp, however, positively refused to attend the -ceremony. With the bluntness of a soldier, conscious that his -well-known devotion to the First Consul would procure for him -impunity, he said, "I shall not attend. But if you do not make these -priests your aids or your cooks, you may do with them as you please." - -As Napoleon was making preparations to go to the cathedral, Cambaceres -entered his apartment. - -"Well," said the First Consul, rubbing his hands in the glow of his -gratification, "we go to church this morning. What say they to that in -Paris?" - -"Many persons," replied Cambaceres, "propose to attend the first -representation in order to hiss the piece, should they not find it -amusing." - -"If any one," Napoleon firmly replied, "takes it into his head to -hiss, I shall put him out of the door by the grenadiers of the -consular guard." - -"But what if the grenadiers themselves," Cambaceres rejoined, "should -take to hissing, like the rest?" - -"As to that I have no fear," said Napoleon. "My old mustaches will go -here to Notre Dame, just as at Cairo, they would have gone to the -mosque. They will remark how I do, and seeing their general grave and -decent, they will be so, too, passing the watchword to each other, -_Decency_." - -"What did you think of the ceremony?" inquired Napoleon of General -Delmas, who stood near him, when it was concluded. "It was a fine -piece of mummery," he replied; "nothing was wanting but the million of -men who have perished to destroy that which you have now -re-established." Some of the priests, encouraged by this triumphant -restoration of Christianity, began to assume not a little arrogance. A -celebrated opera dancer died, not in the faith. The priest of St. -Roche refused to receive the body into the church, or to celebrate -over it the rites of interment. The next day Napoleon caused the -following article to be inserted in the _Moniteur_. "The curate of St. -Roche, in a moment of hallucination, has refused the rites of burial -to Mademoiselle Cameroi. One of his colleagues, a man of sense, -received the procession into the church of St. Thomas, where the -burial service was performed with the usual solemnities. The -archbishop of Paris has suspended the curate of St. Roche for three -months, to give him time to recollect that Jesus Christ commanded us -to pray even for our enemies. Being thus recalled by meditation to a -proper sense of his duties, he may learn that all these superstitious -observances, the offspring of an age of credulity or of crazed -imaginations, tend only to the discredit of true religion, and have -been proscribed by the recent concordat of the French Church." The -most strenuous exertions were made by the clergy to induce Napoleon -publicly to partake of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. It was -thought that his high example would be very influential upon others. -Napoleon nobly replied, "I have not sufficient faith in the ordinance -to be benefited by its reception; and I have too much faith in it to -allow me to be guilty of sacrilege. We are well as we are. Do not ask -me to go farther. You will never obtain what you wish. I will not -become a hypocrite. Be content with what you have already gained." - -It is difficult to describe the undisguised delight with which the -peasants all over France again heard the ringing of the church-bells -upon the Sabbath morning, and witnessed the opening of the -church-doors, the assembling of the congregations with smiles and -congratulations, and the repose of the Sabbath. Mr. Fox, in -conversation with Napoleon, after the peace of Amiens, ventured to -blame him for not having authorized the marriage of priests in France. -"I then had," said Napoleon, in his nervous eloquence, "need to -pacify. It is with water and not with oil that you must extinguish -theological volcanoes. I should have had less difficulty in -establishing the Protestant religion in my empire." - -The magistrates of Paris, grateful for the inestimable blessings which -Napoleon had conferred upon France, requested him to accept the -project of a triumphal monument to be erected in his honor at a cost -of one hundred thousand dollars. Napoleon gave the following reply. "I -view with grateful acknowledgments those sentiments which actuate the -magistrates of the city of Paris. The idea of dedicating monumental -trophies to those men who have rendered themselves useful to the -community is a praiseworthy action in all nations. I accept the offer -of the monument which you desire to dedicate to me. Let the spot be -designated. But leave the labor of constructing it to future -generations, should they think fit thus to sanction the estimate which -you place upon my services." - -There was an indescribable fascination about the character of -Napoleon, which no other man ever possessed, and which all felt who -entered his presence. Some military officers of high rank, on one -occasion, in these days of his early power, agreed to go and -remonstrate with him upon some subject which had given them offense. -One of the party thus describes the interview. - -"I do not know whence it arises, but there is a charm about that man, -which is indescribable and irresistible. I am no admirer of him. I -dislike the power to which he has risen. Yet I can not help confessing -that there is a something in him, which seems to speak that he is born -to command. We went into his apartment determined to declare our minds -to him very freely; to expostulate with him warmly, and not to depart -till our subjects of complaint were removed. But in his manner of -receiving us, there was a certain something, a degree of fascination, -which disarmed us in a moment; nor could we utter one word of what we -had intended to say. He talked to us for a long time, with an -eloquence peculiarly his own, explaining, with the utmost clearness -and precision, the necessity for steadily pursuing the line of conduct -he had adopted. Without contradicting us in direct terms, he -controverted our opinions so ably, that we had not a word to say in -reply. We left him, having done nothing else but listen to him, -instead of expostulating with him; and fully convinced, at least for -the moment, that he was in the right, and that we were in the wrong." - -The merchants of Rouen experienced a similar fascination, when they -called to remonstrate against some commercial regulations which -Napoleon had introduced. They were so entirely disarmed by his -frankness, his sincerity, and were so deeply impressed by the extent -and the depth of his views, that they retired, saying, "The First -Consul understands our interests far better than we do ourselves." -"The man," says Lady Morgan, "who, at the head of a vast empire, could -plan great and lasting works, conquer nations, and yet talk astronomy -with La Place, tragedy with Talma, music with Cherubini, painting with -Gerrard, _vertu_ with Denon, and literature and science with any one -who would listen to him, was certainly out of the roll of common men." - -Napoleon now exerted all his energies for the elevation of France. He -sought out and encouraged talent wherever it could be found. No merit -escaped his princely munificence. Authors, artists, men of science -were loaded with honors and emoluments. He devoted most earnest -attention to the education of youth. The navy, commerce, agriculture, -manufactures, and all mechanic arts, secured his assiduous care. He -labored to the utmost, and with a moral courage above all praise, to -discountenance whatever was loose in morals, or enervating or unmanly -in amusements or taste. The theatre was the most popular source of -entertainment in France. He frowned upon all frivolous and immodest -performances, and encouraged those only which were moral, grave, and -dignified. In the grandeur of tragedy alone he took pleasure. In his -private deportment he exhibited the example of a moral, simple, and -toilsome life. Among the forty millions of France, there was not to be -found a more temperate and laborious man. When nights of labor -succeeded days of toil, his only stimulus was lemonade. He loved his -own family and friends, and was loved by them with a fervor which -soared into the regions of devotion. Never before did mortal man -secure such love. Thousands were ready at any moment to lay down their -lives through their affection for him. And that mysterious charm was -so strong that it has survived his death. Thousands now live who would -brave death in any form from love for Napoleon. - - - - -PECULIAR HABITS OF DISTINGUISHED AUTHORS. - - -Among the curious facts which we find in perusing the biographies of -great men, are the circumstances connected with the composition of the -works which have made them immortal. - -For instance, Bossuet composed his grand sermons on his knees; Bulwer -wrote his first novels in full dress, scented; Milton, before -commencing his great work, invoked the influence of the Holy Spirit, -and prayed that his lips might be touched with a live coal from off -the altar; Chrysostom meditated and studied while contemplating a -painting of Saint Paul. - -Bacon knelt down before composing his great work, and prayed for light -from Heaven. Pope never could compose well without first declaiming -for some time at the top of his voice, and thus rousing his nervous -system to its fullest activity. - -Bentham composed after playing a prelude on the organ, or while taking -his "ante-jentacular" and "post-prandial" walks in his garden--the -same, by the way, that Milton occupied. Saint Bernard composed his -Meditations amidst the woods; he delighted in nothing so much as the -solitude of the dense forest, finding there, he said, something more -profound and suggestive than any thing he could find in books. The -storm would sometimes fall upon him there, without for a moment -interrupting his meditations. Camoens composed his verses with the -roar of battle in his ears; for, the Portuguese poet was a soldier, -and a brave one, though a poet. He composed others of his most -beautiful verses, at the time when his Indian slave was begging a -subsistence for him in the streets. Tasso wrote his finest pieces in -the lucid intervals of madness. - -Rousseau wrote his works early in the morning; Le Sage at mid-day; -Byron at midnight. Hardouin rose at four in the morning, and wrote -till late at night. Aristotle was a tremendous worker; he took little -sleep, and was constantly retrenching it. He had a contrivance by -which he awoke early, and to awake was with him to commence work. -Demosthenes passed three months in a cavern by the sea-side, in -laboring to overcome the defects of his voice. There he read, studied, -and declaimed. - -Rabelais composed his Life of _Gargantua_ at Bellay, in the company of -Roman cardinals, and under the eyes of the Bishop of Paris. La -Fontaine wrote his fables chiefly under the shade of a tree, and -sometimes by the side of Racine and Boileau. Pascal wrote most of his -Thoughts on little scraps of paper, at his by-moments. Fenelon wrote -his _Telemachus_ in the palace of Versailles, at the court of the -Grand Monarque, when discharging the duties of tutor to the Dauphin. -That a book so thoroughly democratic should have issued from such a -source, and been written by a priest, may seem surprising. De Quesnay -first promulgated his notion of universal freedom of person and trade, -and of throwing all taxes on the land--the germ, perhaps, of the -French Revolution--in the _boudoir_ of Madame de Pompadour! - -Luther, when studying, always had his dog lying at his feet--a dog he -had brought from Wartburg, and of which he was very fond. An ivory -crucifix stood on the table before him, and the walls of his study -were stuck round with caricatures of the Pope. He worked at his desk -for days together without going out; but when fatigued, and the ideas -began to stagnate in his brain, he would take his flute or his guitar -with him into the porch, and there execute some musical fantasy (for -he was a skillful musician), when the ideas would flow upon him again -as fresh as flowers after summer's rain. Music was his invariable -solace at such times. Indeed Luther did not hesitate to say, that -after theology, music was the first of arts. "Music," said he, "is the -art of the prophets; it is the only other art, which, like theology, -can calm the agitation of the soul, and put the devil to flight." Next -to music, if not before it, Luther loved children and flowers. That -great gnarled man had a heart as tender as a woman's. - -Calvin studied in his bed. Every morning at five or six o'clock, he -had books, manuscripts, and papers, carried to him there, and he -worked on for hours together. If he had occasion to go out, on his -return he undressed and went to bed again to continue his studies. In -his later years he dictated his writings to secretaries. He rarely -corrected any thing. The sentences issued complete from his mouth. If -he felt his facility of composition leaving him, he forthwith quitted -his bed, gave up writing and composing, and went about his out-door -duties for days, weeks, and months together. But so soon as he felt -the inspiration fall upon him again, he went back to his bed, and his -secretary set to work forthwith. - -Cujas, another learned man, used to study when laid all his length -upon the carpet, his face toward the floor, and there he reveled -amidst piles of books which accumulated about him. The learned Amyot -never studied without the harpsichord beside him; and he only quitted -the pen to play it. Bentham, also, was extremely fond of the -piano-forte, and had one in nearly every room in his house. - -Richelieu amused himself in the intervals of his labor, with a -squadron of cats, of whom he was very fond. He used to go to bed at -eleven at night, and after sleeping three hours, rise and write, -dictate or work, till from six to eight o'clock in the morning, when -his daily levee was held. This worthy student displayed an -extravagance equaling that of Wolsey. His annual expenditure was some -four millions of francs, or about £170,000 sterling! - -How different the fastidious temperance of Milton! He drank water and -lived on the humblest fare. In his youth he studied during the -greatest part of the night; but in his more advanced years he went -early to bed--by nine o'clock--rising to his studies at four in summer -and five in winter. He studied till mid-day; then he took an hour's -exercise, and after dinner he sang and played the organ, or listened -to others' music. He studied again till six, and from that hour till -eight he engaged in conversation with friends who came to see him. -Then he supped, smoked a pipe of tobacco, drank a glass of water, and -went to bed. Glorious visions came to him in the night, for it was -then, while lying on his couch, that he composed in thought the -greater part of his sublime poem. Sometimes when the fit of -composition came strong upon him, he would summon his daughter to his -side, to commit to paper that which he had composed. - -Milton was of opinion that the verses composed by him between the -autumnal and spring equinoxes were always the best, and he was never -satisfied with the verses he had written at any other season. Alfieri, -on the contrary, said that the equinoctial winds produced a state of -almost "complete stupidity" in him. Like the nightingales he could -only sing in summer. It was his favorite season. - -Pierre Corneille, in his loftiest flights of imagination, was often -brought to a stand-still for want of words and rhyme. Thoughts were -seething in his brain, which he vainly tried to reduce to order, and -he would often run to his brother Thomas "for a word." Thomas rarely -failed him. Sometimes, in his fits of inspiration, he would bandage -his eyes, throw himself on a sofa, and dictate to his wife, who almost -worshiped his genius. Thus he would pass whole days, dictating to her -his great tragedies; his wife scarcely venturing to speak, almost -afraid to breathe. Afterward, when a tragedy was finished, he would -call in his sister Martha, and submit it to her judgment; as Moliere -used to consult his old housekeeper about the comedies he had newly -written. - -Racine composed his verses while walking about, reciting them in a -loud voice. One day, when thus working at his play of _Mithridates_, -in the Tuileries Gardens, a crowd of workmen gathered around him, -attracted by his gestures; they took him to be a madman about to throw -himself into the basin. On his return home from such walks, he would -write down scene by scene, at first in prose, and when he had thus -written it out, he would exclaim, "My tragedy is done," considering -the dressing of the acts up in verse as a very small affair. - -Magliabecchi, the learned librarian to the Duke of Tuscany, on the -contrary, never stirred abroad, but lived amidst books, and almost -lived upon books. They were his bed, board, and washing. He passed -eight-and-forty years in their midst, only twice in the course of his -life venturing beyond the walls of Florence; once to go two leagues -off, and the other time three and a half leagues, by order of the -Grand Duke. He was an extremely frugal man, living upon eggs, bread, -and water, in great moderation. - -The life of Liebnitz was one of reading, writing, and meditation. That -was the secret of his prodigious knowledge. After an attack of gout, -he confined himself to a diet of bread and milk. Often he slept in a -chair; and rarely went to bed till after midnight. Sometimes he was -months without quitting his seat, where he slept by night and wrote by -day. He had an ulcer in his right leg which prevented his walking -about, even had he wished to do so. - -The chamber in which Montesquieu wrote his _Spirit of the Laws_, is -still shown at his old ancestral mansion; hung about with its old -tapestry and curtains; and the old easy chair in which the philosopher -sat is still sacredly preserved there. The chimney-jamb bears the -mark of his foot, where he used to rest upon it, his legs crossed, -when composing his books. His _Persian Letters_ were composed merely -for pastime, and were never intended for publication. The principles -of Laws occupied his life. In the study of these he spent twenty -years, losing health and eye-sight in the pursuit. As in the case of -Milton, his daughter read for him, and acted as his secretary. In his -Portrait of himself, he said--"I awake in the morning rejoiced at the -sight of day. I see the sun with a kind of ecstasy, and for the rest -of the day I am content. I pass the night without waking, and in the -evening when I go to bed, a kind of numbness prevents me indulging in -reflections. With me, study has been the sovereign remedy against -disgust of life, having never had any vexation which an hour's reading -has not dissipated. But I have the disease of making books, and of -being ashamed when I have made them." - -Rousseau had the greatest difficulty in composing his works, being -extremely defective in the gift of memory. He could never learn six -verses by heart. In his _Confessions_ he says--"I studied and -meditated in bed, forming sentences with inconceivable difficulty; -then, when I thought I had got them into shape, I would rise to put -them on paper. But lo! I often entirely forgot them during the process -of dressing!" He would then walk abroad to refresh himself by the -aspect of nature, and under its influence his most successful writings -were composed. He was always leaving books which he carried about with -him at the foot of trees, or by the margin of fountains. He sometimes -wrote his books over from beginning to end, four or five times, before -giving them to the press. Some of his sentences cost him four or five -nights' study. He thought with difficulty, and wrote with still -greater. It is astonishing that, with such a kind of intellect, he -should have been able to do so much. - -The summer study of the famous Buffon, at Montbar, is still shown, -just as he left it. It is a little room in a pavilion, reached by -mounting a ladder, through a green door with two folds. The place -looks simplicity itself. The apartment is vaulted like some old -chapel, and the walls are painted green. The floor is paved with -tiles. A writing-table of plain wood stands in the centre, and before -it is an easy chair. That is all! The place was the summer study of -Buffon. In winter, he had a warmer room within his house, where he -wrote his _Natural History_. There, on his desk, his pen still lies, -and by the side of it, on his easy chair, his red dressing-gown and -cap of gray silk. On the wall near to where he sat, hangs an engraved -portrait of Newton. There, and in his garden cabinet, he spent many -years of his life, studying and writing books. He studied his work -entitled _Epoques de la Nature_ for fifty years, and wrote it over -_eighteen times_ before publishing it! What would our galloping -authors say to that? - -Buffon used to work on pages of five distinct columns, like a ledger. -In the first column he wrote out the first draught; in the second he -corrected, added, pruned, and improved; thus proceeding until he had -reached the fifth column, in which he finally wrote out the result of -his labor. But this was not all. He would sometimes re-write a -sentence twenty times, and was once fourteen hours in finding the -proper word for the turning of a period! Buffon knew nearly all his -works by heart. - -On the contrary, Cuvier never re-copied what he had once written. He -composed with great rapidity, correctness, and precision. His mind was -always in complete order, and his memory was exact and extensive. - -Some writers have been prodigiously laborious in the composition of -their works. Cæsar had, of course, an immense multiplicity of -business, as a general, to get through; but he had always a secretary -by his side, even when on horseback, to whom he dictated; and often he -occupied two or three secretaries at once. His famous _Commentaries_ -are said to have been composed mostly on horseback. - -Seneca was very laborious. "I have not a single idle day," said he, -describing his life, "and I give a part of every night to study. I do -not give myself up to sleep, but succumb to it. I have separated -myself from society, and renounced all the distractions of life." With -many of these old heathens, study was their religion. - -Pliny the Elder read two thousand volumes in the composition of his -Natural History. How to find time for this? He managed it by devoting -his days to business and his nights to study. He had books read to him -while he was at meals; and he read no book without making extracts. -His nephew, Pliny the Younger, has given a highly interesting account -of the intimate and daily life of his uncle. - -Origen employed seven writers while composing his _Commentaries_, who -committed to paper what he dictated to them by turns. He was so -indefatigable in writing that they gave him the name of _Brass -Bowels_! Like Philip de Comines, Sully used to dictate to four -secretaries at a time, without difficulty. - -Bossuet left _fifty volumes_ of writings behind him, the result of -unintermitting labor. The pen rarely quitted his fingers. Writing -became habitual to him, and he even chose it as a relaxation. A -night-lamp was constantly lit beside him, and he would rise at all -hours to resume his meditations. He rose at about four o'clock in the -morning during summer and winter, wrapped himself in his loose dress -of bear's skin, and set to work. He worked on for hours, until he felt -fatigued, and then went to bed again, falling asleep at once. This -life he led for more than twenty years. As he grew older, and became -disabled for hard work, he began translating the Psalms into verse, to -pass time. In the intervals of fatigue and pain, he read and corrected -his former works. - -Some writers composed with great rapidity, others slowly and with -difficulty. Byron said of himself, that though he felt driven to -write, and he was in a state of torture until he had fairly delivered -himself of what he had to say, yet that writing never gave him any -pleasure, but was felt to be a severe labor. Scott, on the contrary, -possessed the most extraordinary facility; and dashed off a great -novel of three volumes in about the same number of weeks. - -"I have written _Catiline_ in eight days," said Voltaire; "and I -immediately commenced the _Henriade_." Voltaire was a most impatient -writer, and usually had the first half of a work set up in type before -the second half was written. He always had several works in the course -of composition at the same time. His manner of preparing a work was -peculiar. He had his first sketch of a tragedy set up in type, and -then rewrote it from the proofs. Balzac adopted the same plan. The -printed form enabled them to introduce effects, and correct errors -more easily. - -Pascal wrote most of his thoughts on little scraps of paper, at his -by-moments of leisure. He produced them with immense rapidity. He -wrote in a kind of contracted language--like short hand--impossible to -read, except by those who had studied it. It resembled the impatient -and fiery scratches of Napoleon; yet, though half-formed, the -characters have the firmness and precision of the graver. Some one -observed to Faguere (Pascal's editor), "This work (deciphering it) -must be very fatiguing to the eyes." "No," said he, "it is not the -eyes that are fatigued, so much as the brain." - -Many authors have been distinguished for the fastidiousness of their -composition--never resting satisfied, but correcting and re-correcting -to the last moment. Cicero spent his old age in correcting his -orations; Massillon in polishing his sermons; Fenelon corrected his -_Telemachus_ seven times over. - -Of thirty verses which Virgil wrote in the morning, there were only -ten left at night. Milton often cut down forty verses to twenty. -Buffon would condense six pages into as many paragraphs. Montaigne, -instead of cutting down, amplified and added to his first sketch. -Boileau had great difficulty in making his verses. He said--"If I -write four words, I erase three of them;" and at another time--"I -sometimes hunt three hours for a rhyme!" - -Some authors were never satisfied with their work. Virgil ordered his -_Æneid_ to be burnt. Voltaire cast his poem of _The League_ into the -fire. Racine and Scott could not bear to read their productions again. -Michael Angelo was always dissatisfied; he found faults in his -greatest and most admired works. - -Many of the most admired writings were never intended by their authors -for publication. Fenelon, when he wrote _Telemachus_, had no intention -of publishing it. Voltaire's _Correspondence_ was never intended for -publication, and yet it is perused with avidity; whereas his -_Henriade_, so often corrected by him, is scarcely read. Madame de -Sevigní, in writing to her daughter those fascinating letters -descriptive of the life of the French Court, never had any idea of -their publication, or that they would be cited as models of -composition and style. What work of Johnson's is best known? Is it not -that by Boswell, which contains the great philosopher's -conversation?--that which he never intended should come to light, and -for which we have to thank Bozzy. - -There is a great difference in the sensitiveness of authors to -criticism. Sir Walter Scott passed thirteen years without reading what -the critics or reviewers said of his writings; while Byron was -sensitive to an excess about what was said of him. It was the -reviewers who stung him into his first work of genius--_English Bards -and Scotch Reviewers_. Racine was very sensitive to criticism; and -poor Keats was "snuffed out by an article." Moliere was thrown into a -great rage when his plays were badly acted. One day, after _Tartuffe_ -had been played, an actor found him stamping about as if mad, and -beating his head, crying--"Ah! dog! Ah! butcher!" On being asked what -was the matter, he replied--"Don't be surprised at my emotion! I have -just been seeing an actor falsely and execrably declaiming my piece; -and I can not see my children maltreated in this horrid way, without -suffering the tortures of the damned!" The first time Voltaire's -_Artemise_ was played, it was _hissed_. Voltaire, indignant, sprang to -his feet in his box, and addressed the audience! At another time, at -Lausanne, where an actress seemed fully to apprehend his meaning, he -rushed upon the stage and embraced her knees! - -A great deal might be said about the first failures of authors and -orators. Demosthenes stammered, and was almost inaudible, when he -first tried to speak before Philip. He seemed like a man moribund. -Other orators have broken down, like Demosthenes, in their first -effort. Curran tried to speak, for the first time, at a meeting of the -Irish Historical Society; but the words died on his lips, and he sat -down amid titters--an individual present characterizing him as _orator -Mum_. Boileau broke down as an advocate, and so did Cowper, the poet. -Montesquieu and Bentham were also failures in the same profession, but -mainly through disgust with it. Addison, when a member of the House of -Commons, once rose to speak, but he could not overcome his diffidence, -and ever after remained silent. - - - - -OSTRICHES. - -HOW THEY ARE HUNTED. - - -The family of birds, of which the ostrich forms the leading type, is -remarkable for the wide dispersion of its various members; the ostrich -itself spreads over nearly the whole of the burning deserts of -Africa--the Cassowary represents it amid the luxuriant vegetation of -the Indian Archipelago. The Dinornis, chief of birds, formerly towered -among the ferns of New Zealand, where the small Apteryx now holds its -place; and the huge Æpyornis strode along the forests of Madagascar. -The Emu is confined to the great Australian continent, and the Rhea to -the southern extremity of the western hemisphere; while nearer home -we find the class represented by the Bustard, which, until within a -few years, still lingered upon the least frequented downs and plains -of England. - -With the Arabs of the desert, the chase of the ostrich is the most -attractive and eagerly sought of the many aristocratic diversions in -which they indulge. The first point attended to, is a special -preparation of their horses. Seven or eight days before the intended -hunt, they are entirely deprived of straw and grass, and fed on barley -only. They are only allowed to drink once a day, and that at -sunset--the time when the water begins to freshen: at that time also -they are washed. They take long daily exercises, and are occasionally -galloped, at which time care is taken that the harness is right, and -suited to the chase of the ostrich. "After seven or eight days," says -the Arab, "the stomach of the horse disappears, while the chest, the -breast, and the croup remain in flesh; the animal is then fit to -endure fatigue." They call this training _techaha_. The harness used -for the purpose in question is lighter than ordinary, especially the -stirrups and saddle, and the martingale is removed. The bridle, too, -undergoes many metamorphoses; the mountings and the ear-flaps are -taken away, as too heavy. The bit is made of a camel rope, without a -throat-band, and the frontlet is also of cord, and the reins, though -strong, are very light. The period most favorable for ostrich-hunting -is that of the great heat; the higher the temperature the less is the -ostrich able to defend himself. The Arabs describe the precise time as -that, when a man stands upright, his shadow has the length only of the -sole of his foot. - -Each horseman is accompanied by a servant called _zemmal_, mounted on -a camel, carrying four goat-skins filled with water, barley for the -horse, wheat-flour for the rider, some dates, a kettle to cook the -food, and every thing which can possibly be required for the repair of -the harness. The horseman contents himself with a linen vest and -trowsers, and covers his neck and ears with a light material called -_havuli_, tied with a strip of camel's hide; his feet are protected -with sandals, and his legs with light gaiters called _trabag_. He is -armed with neither gun nor pistol, his only weapon being a wild olive -or tamarind stick, five or six feet long, with a heavy knob at one -end. - -Before starting, the hunters ascertain where a large number of -ostriches are to be found. These birds are generally met with in -places where there is much grass, and where rain has recently fallen. -The Arabs say, that where the ostrich sees the light shine, and barley -getting ready, wherever it may be, thither she runs, regardless of -distance; and ten days' march is nothing to her; and it has passed -into a proverb in the desert, of a man skillful in the care of flocks, -and in finding pasturage, that he is like the ostrich, where he sees -the light there he comes. - -The hunters start in the morning. After one or two days' journey, when -they have arrived near the spot pointed out, and they begin to -perceive traces of their game, they halt and camp. The next day, two -intelligent slaves, almost entirely stripped, are sent to reconnoitre; -they each carry a goat-skin at their side, and a little bread; they -walk until they meet with the ostriches, which are generally found in -elevated places. As soon as the game is in view, one lies down to -watch, the other returns to convey the information. The ostriches are -found in troops, comprising sometimes as many as sixty: but at the -pairing time they are more scattered, three or four couple only -remaining together. - -The horsemen, guided by the scout, travel gently toward the birds; the -nearer they approach the spot the greater is their caution, and when -they reach the last ridge which conceals them from the view of their -game, they dismount, and two creep forward to ascertain if they are -still there. Should such be the case, a moderate quantity of water is -given to the horses, the baggage is left, and each man mounts, -carrying at his side a _chebouta_, or goat-skin. The servants and -camels follow the track of the horsemen, carrying with them only a -little corn and water. - -The exact position of the ostriches being known, the plans are -arranged; the horsemen divide and form a circle round the game at such -a distance as not to be seen. The servants wait where the horsemen -have separated, and as soon as they see them at their posts, they walk -right before them; the ostriches fly, but are met by the hunters, who -do nothing at first but drive them back into the circle; thus their -strength is exhausted by being made to continually run round in the -ring. At the first signs of fatigue in the birds, the horsemen dash -in--presently the flock separates; the exhausted birds are seen to -open their wings, which is a sign of great exhaustion; the horsemen, -certain of their prey, now repress their horses; each hunter selects -his ostrich, runs it down, and finishes it by a blow on the head with -the stick above mentioned. The moment the bird falls the man jumps off -his horse, and cuts her throat, taking care to hold the neck at such a -distance from the body, as not to soil the plumage of the wings. The -male bird, while dying, utters loud moans, but the female dies in -silence. - -When the ostrich is on the point of being overtaken by the hunter, she -is so fatigued, that if he does not wish to kill her, she can easily -be driven with the stick to the neighborhood of the camels. -Immediately after the birds have been bled to death, they are -carefully skinned, so that the feathers may not be injured, and the -skin is then stretched upon a tree, or on a horse, and salt rubbed -well into it. A fire is lit, and the fat of the birds is boiled for a -long time in kettles; when very liquid, it is poured into a sort of -bottle made of the skin of the thigh and leg down to the foot, -strongly fastened at the bottom; the fat of one bird is usually -sufficient to fill two of these legs; it is said that in any other -vessel the fat would spoil. When, however, the bird is breeding, she -is extremely lean, and is then hunted only for the sake of her -feathers. After these arrangements are completed, the flesh is eaten -by the hunters, who season it well with pepper and flour. - -While these proceedings are in progress, the horses are carefully -tended, watered, and fed with corn, and the party remain quiet during -forty-eight hours, to give their animals rest; after that they either -return to their encampment, or embark in new enterprises. - -To the Arab the chase of the ostrich has a double attraction--pleasure -and profit; the price obtained for the skins well compensates for the -expenses. Not only do the rich enjoy the pursuit, but the poor, who -know how to set about it, are permitted to participate in it also. The -usual plan is for a poor Arab to arrange with one who is opulent for -the loan of his camel, horse, harness, and two-thirds of all the -necessary provisions. The borrower furnishes himself the remaining -third, and the produce of the chase is divided in the same -proportions. - -The ostrich, like many other of the feathered tribe, has a great deal -of self-conceit. On fine sunny days a tame bird may be seen strutting -backward and forward with great majesty, fanning itself with its -quivering, expanded wings, and at every turn seeming to admire its -grace, and the elegance of its shadow. Dr. Shaw says that, though -these birds appear tame and tractable to persons well-known to them, -they are often very fierce and violent toward strangers, whom they -would not only endeavor to push down by running furiously against -them, but they would peck at them with their beaks, and strike with -their feet; and so violent is the blow that can be given, that the -doctor saw a person whose abdomen had been ripped completely open by a -stroke from the claw of an ostrich. - -To have the stomach of an ostrich has become proverbial, and with good -reason; for this bird stands enviably forward in respect to its -wonderful powers of digestion, which are scarcely inferior to its -voracity. Its natural food consists entirely of vegetable substances, -especially grain; and the ostrich is a most destructive enemy to the -crops of the African farmers. But its sense of taste is so obtuse, -that scraps of leather, old nails, bits of tin, buttons, keys, coins, -and pebbles, are devoured with equal relish; in fact, nothing comes -amiss. But in this it doubtless follows an instinct: for these hard -bodies assist, like the gravel in the crops of our domestic poultry, -in grinding down and preparing for digestion its ordinary food. - -There was found by Cuvier in the stomach of an ostrich that died at -Paris, nearly a pound weight of stones, bits of iron and copper, and -pieces of money worn down by constant attrition against each other, as -well as by the action of the stomach itself. In the stomach of one of -these birds which belonged to the menagerie of George the Fourth, -there were contained some pieces of wood of considerable size, several -large nails, and a hen's egg entire and uninjured, perhaps taken as a -delicacy from its appetite becoming capricious. In the stomach of -another, beside several large cabbage-stalks, there were masses of -bricks of the size of a man's fist. Sparrman relates that he saw -ostriches at the Cape so tame that they went loose to and from the -farm, but they were so voracious as to swallow chickens whole, and -trample hens to death, that they might tear them in pieces afterward -and devour them; and one great barrel of a bird was obliged to be -killed on account of an awkward habit he had acquired of trampling -sheep to death. But perhaps the most striking proof of the prowess of -an ostrich in the eating way, is that afforded by Dr. Shaw, who saw -one swallow bullet after bullet as fast as they were pitched, -scorching hot, from the mould. - - - - -A DULL TOWN. - - -Putting up for the night in one of the chiefest towns of -Staffordshire, I find it to be by no means a lively town. In fact, it -is as dull and dead a town as any one could desire not to see. It -seems as if its whole population might be imprisoned in its Railway -Station. The Refreshment-room at that station is a vortex of -dissipation compared with the extinct town-inn, the Dodo, in the dull -High-street. - -Why High-street? Why not rather Low-street, Flat-street, -Low-spirited-street, Used-up-street? Where are the people who belong -to the High-street? Can they all be dispersed over the face of the -country, seeking the unfortunate Strolling Manager who decamped from -the mouldy little theatre last week, in the beginning of his season -(as his play-bills testify), repentantly resolved to bring him back, -and feed him, and be entertained? Or, can they all be gathered -to their fathers in the two old church-yards near to the -High-street--retirement into which church-yards appears to be a mere -ceremony, there is so very little life outside their confines, and -such small discernible difference between being buried alive in the -town, and buried dead in the town-tombs? Over the way, opposite to the -staring blank bow windows of the Dodo, are a little ironmonger's shop, -a little tailor's shop (with a picture of the fashions in the small -window and a bandy-legged baby on the pavement staring at it)--a -watchmaker's shop, where all the clocks and watches must be stopped, I -am sure, for they could never have the courage to go, with the town in -general, and the Dodo in particular, looking at them. Shade of Miss -Linwood, erst of Leicester-square, London, thou art welcome here, and -thy retreat is fitly chosen! I myself was one of the last visitors to -that awful storehouse of thy life's work, where an anchorite old man -and woman took my shilling with a solemn wonder, and conducting me to -a gloomy sepulchre of needlework dropping to pieces with dust and age, -and shrouded in twilight at high noon, left me there, chilled, -frightened, and alone. And now, in ghostly letters on all the dead -walls of this dead town, I read thy honored name, and find, that thy -Last Supper, worked in Berlin Wool, invites inspection as a powerful -excitement! - -Where are the people who are bidden with so much cry to this feast of -little wool? Where are they? Who are they? They are not the -bandy-legged baby studying the fashions in the tailor's window. They -are not the two earthy plow-men lounging outside the saddler's -shop, in the stiff square where the Town Hall stands, like a -brick-and-mortar private on parade. They are not the landlady of the -Dodo in the empty bar, whose eye had trouble in it and no welcome, -when I asked for dinner. They are not the turnkeys of the Town Jail, -looking out of the gateway in their uniforms, as if they had locked up -all the balance (as my American friends would say) of the inhabitants, -and could now rest a little. They are not the two dusty millers in the -white mill down by the river, where the great water-wheel goes heavily -round and round, like the monotonous days and nights in this forgotten -place. Then who are they? for there is no one else. No; this deponent -maketh oath and saith that there is no one else, save and except the -waiter at the Dodo, now laying the cloth. I have paced the streets, -and stared at the houses, and am come back to the blank bow-window of -the Dodo; and the town-clock strikes seven, and the reluctant echoes -seem to cry, "Don't wake us!" and the bandy-legged baby has gone home -to bed. - -If the Dodo were only a gregarious bird--if it had only some confused -idea of making a comfortable nest--I could hope to get through the -hours between this and bed-time, without being consumed by devouring -melancholy. But the Dodo's habits are all wrong. It provides me with a -trackless desert of sitting-room, with a chair for every day in the -year, a table for every month, and a waste of sideboard where a lonely -China vase pines in a corner for its mate long departed, and will -never make a match with the candlestick in the opposite corner if it -live till doomsday. The Dodo has nothing in the larder. Even now, I -behold the Boots returning with my sole in a piece of paper; and with -that portion of my dinner, the Boots, perceiving me at the blank -bow-window, slaps his leg as he comes across the road, pretending it -is something else. The Dodo excludes the outer air. When I mount up to -my bed-room, a smell of closeness and flue gets lazily up my nose like -sleepy snuff. The loose little bits of carpet writhe under my tread, -and take wormy shapes. I don't know the ridiculous man in the -looking-glass, beyond having met him once or twice in a -dish-cover--and I can never shave _him_ to-morrow morning! The Dodo is -narrow-minded as to towels; expects me to wash on a freemason's apron -without the trimming; when I ask for soap, gives me a stony-hearted -something white, with no more lather in it than the Elgin marbles. The -Dodo has seen better days, and possesses interminable stables at the -back--silent, grass-grown, broken-windowed, horseless. - -This mournful bird can fry a sole, however, which is much. Can cook a -steak, too, which is more. I wonder where it gets its Sherry! If I -were to send my pint of wine to some famous chemist to be analyzed, -what would it turn out to be made of? It tastes of pepper, sugar, -bitter almonds, vinegar, warm knives, any flat drink, and a little -brandy. Would it unman a Spanish exile by reminding him of his native -land at all? I think not. If there really be any townspeople out of -the church-yards, and if a caravan of them ever do dine, with a bottle -of wine per man, in this desert of the Dodo, it must make good for the -doctor next day! - -Where was the waiter born? How did he come here? Has he any hope of -getting away from here? Does he ever receive a letter, or take a ride -upon the railway, or see any thing but the Dodo? Perhaps he has seen -the Berlin Wool. He appears to have a silent sorrow on him, and it may -be that. He clears the table; draws the dingy curtains of the great -bow-window, which so unwillingly consent to meet, that they must be -pinned together; leaves me by the fire with my pint decanter, and a -little thin funnel-shaped wine-glass, and a plate of pale biscuits--in -themselves engendering desperation. - -No book, no newspapers! I left the Arabian Nights in the railway -carriage, and have nothing to read but Bradshaw, and "that way madness -lies." Remembering what prisoners and shipwrecked mariners have done -to exercise their minds in solitude, I repeat the multiplication -table, the pence table, and the shilling table: which are all the -tables I happen to know. What if I write something? The Dodo keeps no -pens but steel pens; and those I always stick through the paper, and -can turn to no other account. - -What am I to do? Even if I could have the bandy-legged baby knocked up -and brought here, I could offer him nothing but sherry, and that would -be the death of him. He would never hold up his head again, if he -touched it. I can't go to bed, because I have conceived a mortal -hatred for my bedroom; and I can't go away because there is no train -for my place of destination until morning. To burn the biscuits will -be but a fleeting joy; still it is a temporary relief, and here they -go on the fire! - - - - -MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.[B] - - [Footnote B: Continued from the June Number.] - - -CHAPTER X.--CONTINUED. - -Randal walked home slowly. It was a cold moonlit night. Young idlers -of his own years and rank passed him by, on their way from the haunts -of social pleasure. They were yet in the first fair holiday of life. -Life's holiday had gone from him forever. Graver men, in the various -callings of masculine labor--professions, trade, the state--passed him -also. Their steps might be sober, and their faces careworn; but no -step had the furtive stealth of his--no face the same contracted, -sinister, suspicious gloom. Only once, in a lonely thoroughfare, and -on the opposite side of the way, fell a foot-fall, and glanced an -eye, that seemed to betray a soul in sympathy with Randal Leslie's. - -And Randal, who had heeded none of the other passengers by the way, as -if instinctively, took note of this one. His nerves crisped at the -noiseless slide of that form, as it stalked on from lamp to lamp, -keeping pace with his own. He felt a sort of awe, as if he had beheld -the wraith of himself; and ever, as he glanced suspiciously at the -arranger, the stranger glanced at him. He was inexpressibly relieved -when the figure turned down another street and vanished. - -That man was a felon, as yet undetected. Between him and his kind -there stood but a thought--a vail air-spun, but impassable, as the -vail of the Image at Sais. - -And thus moved and thus looked Randal Leslie, a thing of dark and -secret mischief--within the pale of the law, but equally removed from -man by the vague consciousness that at his heart lay that which the -eyes of man would abhor and loathe. Solitary amidst the vast city, and -on through the machinery of Civilization, went the still spirit of -Intellectual Evil. - - -CHAPTER XI - -Early the next morning Randal received two notes--one from Frank, -written in great agitation, begging Randal to see and propitiate his -father, whom he feared he had grievously offended; and then running -off, rather incoherently, into protestations that his honor as well as -his affections were engaged irrevocably to Beatrice, and that her, at -least, he could never abandon. - -And the second note was from the Squire himself--short, and far less -cordial than usual--requesting Mr. Leslie to call on him. - -Randal dressed in haste, and went at once to Limmer's hotel. - -He found the Parson with Mr. Hazeldean, and endeavoring in vain to -soothe him. The Squire had not slept all night, and his appearance was -almost haggard. - -"Oho! Mr. young Leslie," said he, throwing himself back in his chair -as Randal entered--"I thought you were a friend--I thought you were -Frank's adviser. Explain, sir; explain." - -"Gently, my dear Mr. Hazeldean," said the Parson. "You do but surprise -and alarm Mr. Leslie. Tell him more distinctly what he has to -explain." - -SQUIRE.--"Did you or did you not tell me or Mrs. Hazeldean, that Frank -was in love with Violante Rickeybockey?" - -RANDAL (as in amaze).--"I! Never, sir! I feared, on the contrary, that -he was somewhat enamored of a very different person. I hinted at that -possibility. I could not do more, for I did not know how far Frank's -affections were seriously engaged. And indeed, sir, Mrs. Hazeldean, -though not encouraging the idea that your son could marry a foreigner -and a Roman Catholic, did not appear to consider such objections -insuperable, if Frank's happiness were really at stake." - -Here the poor Squire gave way to a burst of passion, that involved, in -one tempest, Frank, Randal, Harry herself, and the whole race of -foreigners, Roman Catholics, and women. While the Squire himself was -still incapable of hearing reason, the Parson, taking aside Randal, -convinced himself that the whole affair, so far as Randal was -concerned, had its origin in a very natural mistake; and that while -that young gentleman had been hinting at Beatrice, Mrs. Hazeldean had -been thinking of Violante. With considerable difficulty he succeeded -in conveying this explanation to the Squire, and somewhat appeasing -his wrath against Randal. And the Dissimulator, seizing his occasion, -then expressed so much grief and astonishment at learning that matters -had gone as far as the Parson informed him--that Frank had actually -proposed to Beatrice, been accepted, and engaged himself, before even -communicating with his father; he declared so earnestly, that he could -never conjure such evil--that he had had Frank's positive promise to -take no step without the sanction of his parents; he professed such -sympathy with the Squire's wounded feelings, and such regret at -Frank's involvement, that Mr. Hazeldean at last yielded up his honest -heart to his consoler--and gripping Randal's hand, said, "Well, well, -I wronged you--beg your pardon. What now is to be done?" - -"Why, you can not consent to this marriage--impossible," replied -Randal; "and we must hope therefore to influence Frank, by his sense -of duty." - -"That's it," said the Squire; "for I'll not give way. Pretty pass -things have come to, indeed! A widow too, I hear. Artful -jade--thought, no doubt, to catch a Hazeldean of Hazeldean. My estates -go to an outlandish Papistical set of mongrel brats! No, no, never!" - -"But," said the Parson, mildly, "perhaps we may be unjustly prejudiced -against this lady. We should have consented to Violante--why not to -her? She is of good family?" - -"Certainly," said Randal. - -"And good character?" - -Randal shook his head, and sighed. The Squire caught him roughly by -the arm--"Answer the Parson!" cried he, vehemently. - -"Indeed, sir, I can not speak ill of the character of a woman, who -may, too, be Frank's wife; and the world is ill-natured, and not to be -believed. But you can judge for yourself, my dear Mr. Hazeldean. Ask -your brother whether Madame di Negra is one whom he would advise his -nephew to marry." - -"My brother!" exclaimed the Squire furiously. "Consult my distant -brother on the affairs of my own son!" - -"He is a man of the world," put in Randal. - -"And of feeling and honor," said the Parson, "and, perhaps, through -him, we may be enabled to enlighten Frank, and save him from what -appears to be the snare of an artful woman." - -"Meanwhile," said Randal, "I will seek Frank, and do my best with him. -Let me go now--I will return in an hour or so." - -"I will accompany you," said the Parson. - -"Nay, pardon me, but I think we two young men can talk more openly -without a third person, even so wise and kind as you." - -"Let Randal go," growled the Squire. And Randal went. - -He spent some time with Frank, and the reader will easily divine how -that time was employed. As he left Frank's lodgings, he found himself -suddenly seized by the Squire himself. - -"I was too impatient to stay at home and listen to the Parson's -prosing," said Mr. Hazeldean, nervously. "I have shaken Dale off. Tell -me what has passed. Oh! don't fear--I'm a man, and can bear the -worst." - -Randal drew the Squire's arm within his, and led him into the adjacent -park. - -"My dear sir," said he, sorrowfully, "this is very confidential what I -am about to say. I must repeat it to you, because without such -confidence, I see not how to advise you on the proper course to take. -But if I betray Frank, it is for his good, and to his own -father:--only do not tell him. He would never forgive me--it would for -ever destroy my influence over him." - -"Go on, go on," gasped the Squire; "speak out. I'll never tell the -ungrateful boy that I learned his secrets from another." - -"Then," said Randal, "the secret of his entanglement with Madame di -Negra is simply this--he found her in debt--nay, on the point of being -arrested--" - -"Debt!--arrested! Jezabel!" - -"And in paying the debt himself, and saving her from arrest, he -conferred on her the obligation which no woman of honor could accept -save from her affianced husband. Poor Frank!--if sadly taken in, still -we must pity and forgive him!" - -Suddenly, to Randal's great surprise, the Squire's whole face -brightened up. - -"I see, I see!" he exclaimed, slapping his thigh. "I have it--I have -it. 'Tis an affair of money! I can buy her off. If she took money from -him, the mercenary, painted baggage! why, then, she'll take it from -me. I don't care what it costs--half my fortune--all! I'd be content -never to see Hazeldean Hall again, if I could save my son, my own son, -from disgrace and misery; for miserable he will be when he knows he -has broken my heart and his mother's. And for a creature like that! My -boy, a thousand hearty thanks to you. Where does the wretch live? I'll -go to her at once." And as he spoke, the Squire actually pulled out -his pocket-book and began turning over and counting the bank-notes in -it. - -Randal at first tried to combat this bold resolution on the part of -the Squire; but Mr. Hazeldean had seized on it with all the obstinacy -of his straightforward English mind. He cut Randal's persuasive -eloquence off in the midst. - -"Don't waste your breath. I've settled it; and if you don't tell me -where she lives, 'tis easily found out, I suppose." - -Randal mused a moment. "After all," thought he, "why not? He will be -sure so to speak as to enlist her pride against himself, and to -irritate Frank to the utmost. Let him go." - -Accordingly, he gave the information required; and, insisting with -great earnestness on the Squire's promise, not to mention to Madam di -Negra his knowledge of Frank's pecuniary aid (for that would betray -Randal as the informant); and satisfying himself as he best might with -the Squire's prompt assurance, "that he knew how to settle matters, -without saying why or wherefore, as long as he opened his purse wide -enough," he accompanied Mr. Hazeldean back into the streets, and there -left him--fixing an hour in the evening for an interview at Limmer's, -and hinting that it would be best to have that interview without the -presence of the Parson. "Excellent good man," said Randal, "but not -with sufficient knowledge of the world for affairs of this kind, which -_you_ understand so well." - -"I should think so," quoth the Squire, who had quite recovered his -good-humor. "And the Parson is as soft as buttermilk. We must be firm -here--firm, sir." And the Squire struck the end of his stick on the -pavement, nodded to Randal, and went on to Mayfair as sturdily and as -confidently as if to purchase a prize cow at a cattle-show. - - -CHAPTER XII - -"Bring the light nearer," said John Burley--"nearer still." - -Leonard obeyed, and placed the candle on a little table by the sick -man's bedside. - -Burley's mind was partially wandering; but there was method in his -madness. Horace Walpole said that "his stomach would survive all the -rest of him." That which in Burley survived the last was his quaint -wild genius. He looked wistfully at the still flame of the candle. "It -lives ever in the air!" said he. - -"What lives ever?" - -Burley's voice swelled--"Light!" He turned from Leonard, and again -contemplated the little flame. "In the fixed star, in the -Will-o'-the-wisp, in the great sun that illumes half a world, or the -farthing rushlight by which the ragged student strains his eyes--still -the same flower of the elements. Light in the universe, thought in the -soul--ay--ay--Go on with the simile. My head swims. Extinguish the -light! You can not; fool, it vanishes from your eye, but it is still -in the space. Worlds must perish, suns shrivel up, matter and spirit -both fall into nothingness, before the combinations whose union makes -that little flame, which the breath of a babe can restore to darkness, -shall lose the power to unite into light once more. Lose the -power!--no, the _necessity_:--it is the one _Must_ in creation. Ay, -ay, very dark riddles grow clear now--now when I could not cast up an -addition sum in the baker's bill! What wise man denied that two and -two made four? Do they not make four? I can't answer him. But I could -answer a question that some wise men have contrived to make much -knottier." He smiled softly, and turned his face for some minutes to -the wall. - -This was the second night on which Leonard had watched by his bedside, -and Burley's state had grown rapidly worse. He could not last many -days, perhaps many hours. But he had evinced an emotion beyond mere -delight at seeing Leonard again. He had since then been calmer, more -himself. "I feared I might have ruined you by my bad example," he -said, with a touch of humor that became pathos as he added, "That idea -preyed on me." - -"No, no; you did me great good." - -"Say that--say it often," said Burley, earnestly; "it makes my heart -feel so light." - -He had listened to Leonard's story with deep interest, and was fond of -talking to him of little Helen. He detected the secret at the young -man's heart, and cheered the hopes that lay there, amidst fears and -sorrows. Burley never talked seriously of his repentance; it was not -in his nature to talk seriously of the things which he felt solemnly. -But his high animal spirits were quenched with the animal power that -fed them. Now, we go out of our sensual existence only when we are no -longer enthralled by the Present, in which the senses have their -realm. The sensual being vanishes when we are in the Past or the -Future. The Present was gone from Burley; he could no more be its -slave and its king. - -It was most touching to see how the inner character of this man -unfolded itself, as the leaves of the outer character fell off and -withered--a character no one would have guessed in him--an inherent -refinement that was almost womanly; and he had all a woman's -abnegation of self. He took the cares lavished on him so meekly. As -the features of the old man return in the stillness of death to the -aspect of youth--the lines effaced, the wrinkles gone--so, in seeing -Burley now, you saw what he had been in his spring of promise. But he -himself saw only what he had failed to be--powers squandered--life -wasted. "I once beheld," he said, "a ship in a storm. It was a cloudy, -fitful day, and I could see the ship with all its masts fighting hard -for life and for death. Then came night, dark as pitch, and I could -only guess that the ship fought on. Toward the dawn the stars grew -visible, and once more I saw the ship--it was a wreck--it went down -just as the stars shone forth." - -When he had made that allusion to himself, he sate very still for some -time, then he spread out his wasted hands, and gazed on them, and on -his shrunken limbs. "Good," said he, laughing low; "these hands were -too large and rude for handling the delicate webs of my own mechanism, -and these strong limbs ran away with me. If I had been a sickly, puny -fellow, perhaps my mind would have had fair play. There was too much -of brute body here! Look at this hand now! you can see the light -through it! Good, good!" - -Now, that evening, until he had retired to bed, Burley had been -unusually cheerful, and had talked with much of his old eloquence, if -with little of his old humor. Among other matters, he had spoken with -considerable interest of some poems and other papers in manuscript -which had been left in the house by a former lodger, and which, the -reader may remember, that Mrs. Goodyer had urged him in vain to read, -in his last visit to her cottage. But _then_ he had her husband Jacob -to chat with, and the spirit-bottle to finish, and the wild craving -for excitement plucked his thoughts back to his London revels. Now -poor Jacob was dead, and it was not brandy that the sick man drank -from the widow's cruise. And London lay afar amidst its fogs, like a -world resolved back into nebulæ. So to please his hostess, and -distract his own solitary thoughts, he had condescended (just before -Leonard found him out) to peruse the memorials of a life obscure to -the world, and new to his own experience of coarse joys and woes. "I -have been making a romance, to amuse myself, from their contents," -said he. "They may be of use to you, brother author. I have told Mrs. -Goodyer to place them in your room. Among those papers is a journal--a -woman's journal; it moved me greatly. A man gets into another world, -strange to him as the orb of Sirius, if he can transport himself into -the centre of a woman's heart, and see the life there, so wholly -unlike our own. Things of moment to us, to it so trivial; things -trifling to us, to it so vast. There was this journal--in its dates -reminding me of stormy events of my own existence, and grand doings in -the world's. And those dates there, chronicling but the mysterious -unrevealed record of some obscure loving heart! And in that chronicle, -O, Sir Poet, there was as much genius, vigor of thought, vitality of -being, poured and wasted, as ever kind friend will say was lavished on -the rude outer world by big John Burley! Genius, genius; are we all -alike, then, save when we leash ourselves to some matter-of-fact -material, and float over the roaring seas on a wooden plank or a -herring-tub?" And after he had uttered that cry of a secret anguish, -John Burley had begun to show symptoms of growing fever and disturbed -brain; and when they had got him into bed, he lay there muttering to -himself, until toward midnight he had asked Leonard to bring the light -nearer to him. - -So now he again was quiet--with his face turned toward the wall; and -Leonard stood by the bedside sorrowfully, and Mrs. Goodyer, who did -not heed Burley's talk, and thought only of his physical state, was -dipping cloths into iced water to apply to his forehead. But as she -approached with these, and addressed him soothingly, Burley raised -himself on his arm, and waved aside the bandages. "I do not need -them," said he, in a collected voice. "I am better now. I and that -pleasant light understand one another, and I believe all it tells me. -Pooh, pooh, I do not rave." He looked so smilingly and so kindly into -her face, that the poor woman, who loved him as her own son, fairly -burst into tears. He drew her toward him and kissed her forehead. - -"Peace, old fool," said he, fondly. "You shall tell anglers hereafter -how John Burley came to fish for the one-eyed perch which he never -caught: and how, when he gave it up at the last, his baits all gone, -and the line broken among the weeds, you comforted the baffled man. -There are many good fellows yet in the world who will like to know -that poor Burley did not die on a dunghill. Kiss me! Come, boy, you -too. Now, God bless you, I should like to sleep." His cheeks were wet -with the tears of both his listeners, and there was a moisture in his -own eyes, which, nevertheless, beamed bright through the moisture. - -He laid himself down again, and the old woman would have withdrawn the -light. He moved uneasily. "Not that," he murmured--"light to the -last!" And putting forth his wan hand, he drew aside the curtain so -that the light might fall full on his face. In a few minutes he was -asleep, breathing calmly and regularly as an infant. - -The old woman wiped her eyes, and drew Leonard softly into the -adjoining room, in which a bed had been made up for him. He had not -left the house since he had entered it with Dr. Morgan. "You are -young, sir," said she, with kindness, "and the young want sleep. Lie -down a bit: I will call you when he wakes." - -"No, I could not sleep," said Leonard. "I will watch for you." - -The old woman shook her head. "I must see the last of him, sir; but I -know he will be angry when his eyes open on me, for he has grown very -thoughtful of others." - -"Ah, if he had but been as thoughtful of himself!" murmured Leonard; -and he seated himself by the table, on which, as he leaned his elbow, -he dislodged some papers placed there. They fell to the ground with a -dumb, moaning, sighing sound. - -"What is that?" said he, starting. - -The old woman picked up the manuscripts and smoothed them carefully. - -"Ah, sir, he bade me place these papers here. He thought they might -keep you from fretting about him, in case you would sit up and wake. -And he had a thought of me, too; for I have so pined to find out the -poor young lady, who left them years ago. She was almost as dear to me -as he is; dearer perhaps until now--when--when--I am about to lose -him." - -Leonard turned from the papers, without a glance at their contents: -they had no interest for him at such a moment. - -The hostess went on-- - -"Perhaps she is gone to heaven before him: she did not look like one -long for this world. She left us so suddenly. Many things of hers -besides these papers are still here; but I keep them aired and dusted, -and strew lavender over them, in case she ever comes for them again. -You never heard tell of her, did you, sir?" she added, with great -simplicity, and dropping a half courtsey. - -"Of her?--of whom?" - -"Did not Mr. John tell you her name--dear--dear?--Mrs. Bertram." - -Leonard started;--the very name so impressed upon his memory by Harley -L'Estrange. - -"Bertram!" he repeated. "Are you sure?" - -"O yes, sir! And many years after she had left us, and we had heard no -more of her, there came a packet addressed to her here, from over sea, -sir. We took it in, and kept it, and John would break the seal, to -know if it would tell us any thing about her; but it was all in a -foreign language like--we could not read a word." - -"Have you the packet? Pray, show it to me. It may be of the greatest -value. To-morrow will do--I can not think of that just now. Poor -Burley!" - -Leonard's manner indicated that he wished to talk no more, and to be -alone. So Mrs. Goodyer left him, and stole back to Burley's room on -tiptoe. - -The young man remained in deep reverie for some moments. "Light," he -murmured. "How often "Light" is the last word of those round whom the -shades are gathering!"[C] He moved, and straight on his view through -the cottage lattice there streamed light, indeed--not the miserable -ray lit by a human hand--but the still and holy effulgence of a -moonlit heaven. It lay broad upon the humble floors--pierced across -the threshold of the death-chamber, and halted clear amidst its -shadows. - - [Footnote C: Every one remembers that Goethe's last words - are said to have been, "More Light;" and perhaps what has - occurred in the text may be supposed a plagiarism from those - words. But, in fact, nothing is more common than the craving - and demand for light a little before death. Let any consult - his own sad experience in the last moments of those whose - gradual close he has watched and tended. What more frequent - than a prayer to open the shutters and let in the sun? What - complaint more repeated, and more touching, than "that it is - growing dark?" I once knew a sufferer--who did not then seem - in immediate danger--suddenly order the sick-room to be lit - up as if for a gala. When this was told to the physician, he - said gravely, "No worse sign."] - -Leonard stood motionless, his eye following the silvery silent -splendor. - -"And," he said inly--"and does this large erring nature, marred by its -genial faults--this soul which should have filled a land, as yon orb -the room, with a light that linked earth to heaven--does it pass away -into the dark, and leave not a ray behind? Nay, if the elements of -light are ever in the space, and when the flame goes out, return to -the vital air--so thought, once kindled, lives for ever around and -about us, a part of our breathing atmosphere. Many a thinker, many a -poet, may yet illume the world, from the thoughts which yon genius, -that will have no name, gave forth--to wander through air, and -recombine again in some new form of light." - -Thus he went on in vague speculations, seeking, as youth enamored of -fame seeks too fondly, to prove that mind never works, however -erratically, in vain--and to retain yet, as an influence upon earth, -the soul about to soar far beyond the atmosphere where the elements -that make fame abide. Not thus had the dying man interpreted the -endurance of light and thought. - -Suddenly, in the midst of his reverie, a low cry broke on his ear. He -shuddered as he heard, and hastened forebodingly into the adjoining -room. The old woman was kneeling by the bedside, and chafing Burley's -hand--eagerly looking into his face. A glance sufficed to Leonard. All -was over. Burley had died in sleep--calmly, and without a groan. - -The eyes were half open, with that look of inexpressible softness -which death sometimes leaves; and still they were turned toward the -light; and the light burned clear. Leonard closed tenderly the heavy -lids; and, as he covered the face, the lips smiled a serene farewell. - - -(TO BE CONTINUED.) - - - - -THE LITTLE GRAY GOSSIP. - - -Soon after Cousin Con's marriage, we were invited to stay for a few -weeks with the newly-married couple, during the festive winter season; -so away we went with merry hearts, the clear frosty air and pleasant -prospect before us invigorating our spirits, as we took our places -inside the good old mail-coach, which passed through the town of -P----, where Cousin Con resided, for there were no railways then. -Never was there a kinder or more genial soul than Cousin Con; and -David Danvers, the good-man, as she laughingly called him, was, if -possible, kinder and more genial still. They were surrounded by -substantial comforts, and delighted to see their friends in a -sociable, easy way, and to make them snug and cozy, our arrival being -the signal for a succession of such convivialities. Very mirthful and -enjoyable were these evenings, for Con's presence always shed radiant -sunshine, and David's honest broad face beamed upon her with -affectionate pride. During the days of their courtship at our house, -they had perhaps indulged in billing and cooing a little too freely -when in company with others, for sober, middle-aged lovers like -themselves; thereby lying open to animadversions from prim spinsters, -who wondered that Miss Constance and Mr. Danvers made themselves so -ridiculous. - -But now all this nonsense had sobered down, and nothing could be -detected beyond a sly glance, or a squeeze of the hand now and then; -yet we often quizzed them about by-gones, and declared that engaged -pairs were insufferable--we could always find them out among a -hundred! - -"I'll bet you any thing you like," cried Cousin Con, with a -good-humored laugh, "that among our guests coming this evening" (there -was to be a tea-junketing), "you'll not be able to point out the -engaged couple--for there will be only one such present--though plenty -of lads and lasses that would like to be so happily situated! But the -couple I allude too are real turtle-doves, and yet I defy you to find -them out!" - -"Done, Cousin Con!" we exclaimed; "and what shall we wager?" - -"Gloves! gloves to be sure!" cried David. "Ladies always wager gloves; -though I can tell you, my Con is on the safe side now;" and David -rubbed his hands, delighted with the joke; and _we_ already, in -perspective, beheld our glove-box enriched with half-a-dozen pair of -snowy French sevens! - -Never had we felt more interested in watching the arrivals and -movements of strangers, than on this evening, for our honor was -concerned, to detect the lovers, and raise the vail. Papas and mammas, -and masters and misses, came trooping in; old ladies, and middle-aged; -old gentlemen, and middle-aged--until the number amounted to about -thirty, and Cousin Con's drawing-rooms were comfortably filled. We -closely scrutinized all the young folks, and so intently but covertly -watched their proceedings, that we could have revealed several -innocent flirtations, but nothing appeared that could lead us to the -turtle-doves and their engagement. At length, we really had hopes, and -ensconced ourselves in a corner, to observe the more cautiously a -tall, beautiful girl, whose eyes incessantly turned toward the door of -the apartment; while each time it opened to admit any one, she sighed -and looked disappointed, as if that one was not the one she yearned to -see. We were deep in a reverie, conjuring up a romance of which she -was the heroine, when a little lady, habited in gray, whose age might -average threescore, unceremoniously seated herself beside us, and -immediately commenced a conversation, by asking if we were admiring -pretty Annie Mortimer--following the direction of our looks. On -receiving a reply in the affirmative, she continued: "Ah, she's a -good, affectionate girl; a great favorite of mine is sweet Annie -Mortimer." - -"Watching for her lover, no doubt?" we ventured to say, hoping to gain -the desired information, and thinking of our white kid-gloves. "She is -an engaged young lady?" - -"Engaged! engaged!" cried the little animated lady: "no indeed. The -fates forbid! Annie Mortimer is not engaged." The expression of the -little lady's countenance at our bare supposition of so natural a -fact, amounted almost to the ludicrous; and we with some difficulty -articulated a serious rejoinder, disavowing all previous knowledge, -and therefore erring through ignorance. We had now time to examine our -new acquaintance more critically. As we have already stated, she was -habited in gray; but not only was her attire gray, but she was -literally gray all over: gray hairs, braided in a peculiar obsolete -fashion, and quite uncovered; gray gloves; gray shoes; and, above all, -gray eyes, soft, large, and peculiarly sad in expression, yet -beautiful eyes, redeeming the gray, monotonous countenance from -absolute plainness. Mary Queen of Scots, we are told, had gray eyes; -and even she, poor lady, owned not more speaking or history-telling -orbs than did this little unknown gossip in gray. But our attention -was diverted from the contemplation, by the entrance of another actor -on the stage, to whom Annie Mortimer darted forward with an -exclamation of delight and welcome. The new comer was a slender, -elderly gentleman, whose white hairs, pale face, and benignant -expression presented nothing remarkable in their aspect, beyond a -certain air of elegance and refinement, which characterized the whole -outward man. - -"That is a charming-looking old gentleman," said we to the gray lady; -"is he Annie's father?" - -"Her father! Oh dear, no! That gentleman is a bachelor; but he is -Annie's guardian, and has supplied the place of a father to her, for -poor Annie is an orphan." - -"Oh!" we exclaimed, and there was a great deal of meaning in our oh! -for had we not read and heard of youthful wards falling in love with -their guardians? and might not the fair Annie's taste incline this -way? The little gray lady understood our thoughts, for she smiled, but -said nothing; and while we were absorbed with Annie and her supposed -antiquated lover, she glided into the circle, and presently we beheld -Annie's guardian, with Annie leaning on his arm, exchange a few words -with her in an under tone, as she passed them to an inner room. - -"Who is that pleasing-looking old gentleman?" said we to our hostess; -"and what is the name of the lady in gray, who went away just as you -came up? That is Annie Mortimer we know, and we know also that she -isn't engaged!" - -Cousin Con laughed heartily as she replied: "That nice old gentleman -is Mr. Worthington, our poor curate; and a poor curate he is likely -ever to continue, so far as we can see. The lady in gray we call our -'little gray gossip,' and a darling she is! As to Annie, you seem to -know all about her. I suppose little Bessie has been lauding her up to -the skies." - -"Who is little Bessie?" we inquired. - -"Little Bessie is your little gray gossip: we never call her any thing -but Bessie to her face; she is a harmless little old maid. But come -this way: Bessie is going to sing, for they won't let her rest till -she complies; and Bessie singing, and Bessie talking, are widely -different creatures." - -Widely different indeed! Could this be the little gray lady seated at -the piano, and making it speak? while her thrilling tones, as she sang -of 'days gone by,' went straight to each listener's heart, she herself -looking ten years younger! When the song was over, I observed Mr. -Worthington, with Annie still resting on his arm, in a corner of the -apartment, shaded by a projecting piece of furniture; and I also noted -the tear on his furrowed cheek, which he hastily brushed away, and -stooped to answer some remark of Annie's, who, with fond affection, -had evidently observed it too, endeavoring to dispel the painful -illusion which remembrances of days gone by occasioned. - -We at length found the company separating, and our wager still -unredeemed. The last to depart was Mr. Worthington, escorting Annie -Mortimer and little Bessie, whom he shawled most tenderly, no doubt -because she was a poor forlorn little old maid, and sang so sweetly. - -The next morning at breakfast, Cousin Con attacked us, supported by -Mr. Danvers, both demanding a solution of the mystery, or the scented -sevens! After a vast deal of laughing, talking, and discussion, we -were obliged to confess ourselves beaten, for there had been an -engaged couple present on the previous evening, and we had failed to -discover them. No; it was not Annie Mortimer; she had no lover. No; it -was not the Misses Halliday, or the Masters Burton: they had flirted -and danced, and danced and flirted indiscriminately; but as to serious -engagements--pooh! pooh! - -Who would have conjectured the romance of reality that was now -divulged? and how could we have been so stupid as not to have read it -at a glance? These contradictory exclamations, as is usual in such -cases, ensued when the riddle was unfolded. It is so easy to be wise -when we have learned the wisdom. Yet we cheerfully lost our wager, and -would have lost a hundred such, for the sake of hearing a tale so far -removed from matter-of-fact; proving also that enduring faith and -affection are not so fabulous as philosophers often pronounce them to -be. - -Bessie Prudholm was nearly related to David Danvers, and she had been -the only child of a talented but improvident father, who, after a -short, brilliant career, as a public singer, suddenly sank into -obscurity and neglect, from the total loss of his vocal powers, -brought on by a violent rheumatic cold and lasting prostration of -strength. At this juncture, Bessie had nearly attained her twentieth -year, and was still in mourning for an excellent mother, by whom she -had been tenderly and carefully brought up. From luxury and indulgence -the descent to poverty and privation was swift. Bessie, indeed, -inherited a very small income in right of her deceased parent, -sufficient for her own wants, and even comforts, but totally -inadequate to meet the thousand demands, caprices, and fancies of her -ailing and exigent father. However, for five years she battled bravely -with adversity, eking out their scanty means by her exertions--though, -from her father's helpless condition, and the constant and unremitting -attention he required, she was in a great measure debarred from -applying her efforts advantageously. The poor, dying man, in his days -of health, had contributed to the enjoyment of the affluent, and in -turn been courted by them; but now, forgotten and despised, he -bitterly reviled the heartless world, whose hollow meed of applause it -had formerly been the sole aim of his existence to secure. Wealth -became to his disordered imagination the desideratum of existence, and -he attached inordinate value to it, in proportion as he felt the -bitter stings of comparative penury. To guard his only child--whom he -certainly loved better than any thing else in the world, save -himself--from this dreaded evil, the misguided man, during his latter -days, extracted from her an inviolable assurance, never to become the -wife of any individual who could not settle upon her, subject to no -contingencies or chances, the sum of at least one thousand pounds. - -Bessie, who was fancy-free, and a lively-spirited girl, by no means -relished the slights and privations which poverty entails. She -therefore willingly became bound by this solemn promise; and when her -father breathed his last, declaring that she had made his mind -comparatively easy, little Bessie half smiled, even in the midst of -her deep and natural sorrow, to think how small and easy a concession -her poor father had exacted, when her own opinions and views so -perfectly coincided with his. The orphan girl took up her abode with -the mother of David Danvers, and continued to reside with that worthy -lady until the latter's decease. It was beneath the roof of Mrs. -Danvers that Bessie first became acquainted with Mr. Worthington--that -acquaintance speedily ripening into a mutual and sincere attachment. -He was poor and patronless then, as he had continued ever since, with -slender likelihood of ever possessing £100 of his own, much less £1000 -to settle on a wife. It is true, that in the chances and changes of -this mortal life, Paul Worthington might succeed to a fine -inheritance; but there were many lives betwixt him and it, and Paul -was not the one to desire happiness at another's expense, nor was -sweet little Bessie either. - -Yet was Paul Worthington rich in one inestimable possession, such as -money can not purchase--even in the love of a pure devoted heart, -which for him, and for his dear sake, bravely endured the life-long -loneliness and isolation which their peculiar circumstances induced. -Paul did not see Bessie grow old and gray: in his eyes, she never -changed; she was to him still beautiful, graceful, and enchanting; she -was his betrothed, and he came forth into the world, from his books, -and his arduous clerical and parochial duties, to gaze at intervals -into her soft eyes, to press her tiny hand, to whisper a fond word, -and then to return to his lonely home, like a second Josiah Cargill, -to try and find in severe study oblivion of sorrow. - -Annie Mortimer had been sent to him as a ministering angel: she was -the orphan and penniless daughter of Mr. Worthington's dearest friend -and former college-chum, and she had come to find a shelter beneath -the humble roof of the pious guardian, to whose earthly care she had -been solemnly bequeathed. Paul's curacy was not many miles distant -from the town where Bessie had fixed her resting-place; and it was -generally surmised by the select few who were in the secret of little -Bessie's history, that she regarded Annie Mortimer with especial favor -and affection, from the fact that Annie enjoyed the privilege of -solacing and cheering Paul Worthington's declining years. Each spoke -of her as a dear adopted daughter, and Annie equally returned the -affection of both. - -Poor solitaries! what long anxious years they had known, separated by -circumstance, yet knit together in the bonds of enduring love! - -I pictured them at festive winter seasons, at their humble solitary -boards; and in summer prime, when song-birds and bright perfumed -flowers call lovers forth into the sunshine rejoicingly. They had not -dared to rejoice during their long engagement; yet Bessie was a -sociable creature, and did not mope or shut herself up, but led a life -of active usefulness, and was a general favorite amongst all classes. -They had never contemplated the possibility of evading Bessie's solemn -promise to her dying father; to their tender consciences, that fatal -promise was as binding and stringent, as if the gulf of marriage or -conventual vows yawned betwixt them. We had been inclined to indulge -some mirth at the expense of the little gray gossip, when she first -presented herself to our notice; but now we regarded her as an object -of interest, surrounded by a halo of romance, fully shared in by her -charming, venerable lover. And this was good Cousin Con's elucidation -of the riddle, which she narrated with many digressions, and with -animated smiles, to conceal tears of sympathy. Paul Worthington and -little Bessy did not like their history to be discussed by the rising -frivolous generation; it was so unworldly, so sacred, and they looked -forward with humble hope so soon to be united for ever in the better -land, that it pained and distressed them to be made a topic of -conversation. - -Were we relating fiction, it would be easy to bring this antiquated -pair together, even at the eleventh hour; love and constancy making up -for the absence of one sweet ingredient, evanescent, yet -beautiful--the ingredient, we mean, of youth. But as this is a romance -of reality, we are fain to divulge facts as they actually occurred, -and as we heard them from authentic sources. Paul and Bessie, divided -in their lives, repose side by side in the old church-yard. He dropped -off first, and Bessie doffed her gray for sombre habiliments of darker -hue. Nor did she long remain behind, loving little soul! leaving her -property to Annie Mortimer, and warning her against long engagements. - -The last time we heard of Annie, she was the happy wife of an -excellent man, who, fully coinciding in the opinion of the little gray -gossip, protested strenuously against more than six weeks' courtship, -and carried his point triumphantly. - - - - -THE MOURNER AND THE COMFORTER. - - -It was a lovely day in the month of August, and the sun, which had -shone with undiminished splendor from the moment of dawn, was now -slowly declining, with that rich and prolonged glow with which it -seems especially to linger around those scenes where it seldomest -finds admittance. For it was a valley in the north of Scotland into -which its light was streaming, and many a craggy top and rugged side, -rarely seen without their cap of clouds or shroud of mist, were now -throwing their mellow-tinted forms, clear and soft, into a lake of -unusual stillness. High above the lake, and commanding a full view of -that and of the surrounding hills, stood one of those countryfied -hotels not unfrequently met with on a tourist's route, formerly only -designed for the lonely traveler or weary huntsman, but which now, -with the view to accommodate the swarm of visitors which every summer -increased, had gone on stretching its cords and enlarging its -boundaries, till the original tenement looked merely like the seed -from which the rest had sprung. Nor, even under these circumstances, -did the house admit of much of the luxury of privacy; for, though the -dormitories lay thick and close along the narrow corridor, all -accommodation for the day was limited to two large and long rooms, one -above the other, which fronted the lake. Of these, the lower one was -given up to pedestrian travelers--the sturdy, sunburnt shooters of the -moors, who arrive with weary limbs and voracious appetites, and -question no accommodation which gives them food and shelter; while the -upper one was the resort of ladies and family parties, and was -furnished with a low balcony, now covered with a rough awning. - -Both these rooms, on the day we mention, were filled with numerous -guests. Touring was at its height, and shooting had begun; and, while -a party of way-worn young men, coarsely clad and thickly shod, were -lying on the benches, or lolling out of the windows of the lower -apartment, a number of traveling parties were clustered in distinct -groups in the room above; some lingering round their tea-tables, while -others sat on the balcony, and seemed attentively watching the -evolutions of a small boat, the sole object on the lake before them. -It is pleasant to watch the actions, however insignificant they may -be, of a distant group; to see the hand obey without hearing the voice -that has bidden; to guess at their inward motives by their outward -movements; to make theories of their intentions, and try to follow -them out in their actions; and, as at a pantomime, to tell the drift -of the piece by dumb show alone. And it is an idle practice, too, and -one especially made for the weary or the listless traveler, giving -them amusement without thought, and occupation without trouble; for -people who have had their powers of attention fatigued by incessant -exertion, or weakened by constant novelty, are glad to settle it upon -the merest trifle at last. So the loungers on the balcony increased, -and the little boat became a centre of general interest to those who -apparently had not had one sympathy in common before. So calm and -gliding was its motion, so refreshing the gentle air which played -round it, that many an eye from the shore envied the party who were -seated in it. These consisted of three individuals, two large figures -and a little one. - -"It is Captain H---- and his little boy," said one voice, breaking -silence; "they arrived here yesterday." - -"They'll be going to see the great waterfall," said another. - -"They have best make haste about it; for they have a mile to walk -up-hill when they land," said a third. - -"Rather they than I," rejoined a languid fourth; and again there was a -pause. Meanwhile the boat party seemed to be thinking little about the -waterfall, or the need for expedition. For a few minutes the -quick-glancing play of the oars was seen, and then they ceased again; -and now an arm was stretched out toward some distant object in the -landscape, as if asking a question; and then the little fellow pointed -here and there, as if asking many questions at once, and, in short, -the conjectures on the balcony were all thrown out. But now the oars -had rested longer than usual, and a figure rose and stooped, and -seemed occupied with something at the bottom of the boat. What were -they about? They were surely not going to fish at this time of -evening? No, they were not; for slowly a mast was raised, and a sail -unfurled, which at first hung flapping, as if uncertain which side the -wind would take it, and then gently swelled out to its full -dimensions, and seemed too large a wing for so tiny a body. A slight -air had arisen; the long reflected lines of colors, which every object -on the shore dripped, as it were, into the lake, were gently stirred -with a quivering motion; every soft strip of liquid tint broke -gradually into a jagged and serrated edge; colors were mingled, forms -were confused; the mountains, which lay in undiminished brightness -above, seemed by some invisible agency to be losing their second -selves from beneath them; long, cold white lines rose apparently from -below, and spread radiating over all the liquid picture: in a few -minutes, the lake lay one vast sheet of bright silver, and half the -landscape was gone. The boat was no longer in the same element: -before, it had floated in a soft, transparent ether; now, it glided -upon a plain of ice. - -"I wish they had stuck to their oars," said the full, deep voice of an -elderly gentleman; "hoisting a sail on these lakes is very much like -trusting to luck in life--it may go on all right for a while, and save -you much trouble, but you are never sure that it won't give you the -slip, and that when you are least prepared." - -"No danger in the world, sir," said a young fop standing by, who knew -as little about boating on Scotch lakes as he did of most things any -where else. Meanwhile, the air had become chill, the sun had sunk -behind the hills, and the boating party, tired, apparently, of their -monotonous amusement, turned the boat's head toward shore. For some -minutes they advanced with fuller and fuller bulging sail in the -direction they sought, when suddenly the breeze seemed not so much to -change as to be met by another and stronger current of air, which came -pouring through the valley with a howling sound, and then, bursting on -the lake, drove its waters in a furrow before it. The little boat -started, and swerved like a frightened creature; and the sail, -distended to its utmost, cowered down to the water's edge. - -"Good God! why don't they lower that sail? Down with it! down with -it!" shouted the same deep voice from the balcony, regardless of the -impossibility of being heard. But the admonition was needless; the -boatman, with quick, eager motions, was trying to lower it. Still it -bent, fuller and fuller, lower and lower. The man evidently strained -with desperate strength, defeating, perhaps, with the clumsiness of -anxiety, the end in view; when, too impatient, apparently, to witness -their urgent peril without lending his aid, the figure of Captain -H---- rose up; in one instant a piercing scream was borne faintly to -shore--the boat whelmed over, and all were in the water. - -For a few dreadful seconds nothing was seen of the unhappy creatures; -then a cap floated, and then two struggling figures rose to the -surface. One was evidently the child, for his cap was off, and his -fair hair was seen; the other head was covered. This latter buffeted -the waters with all the violence of a helpless, drowning man; then he -threw his arms above his head, sank, and rose no more. The boy -struggled less and less, and seemed dead to all resistance before he -sank, too. The boat floated keel upward, almost within reach of the -sufferers; and now that the waters had closed over them, the third -figure was observed, for the first time, at a considerable distance, -slowly and laboriously swimming toward it, and in a few moments two -arms were flung over it, and there he hung. It was one of those scenes -which the heart quails to look on, yet which chains the spectator -to the spot. The whole had passed in less than a minute: -fear--despair--agony--and death, had been pressed into one of those -short minutes, of which so many pass without our knowing how. It is -well. Idleness, vanity, or vice--all that dismisses thought--may dally -with time, but the briefest space is too long for that excess of -consciousness where time seems to stand still. - -At this moment a lovely and gentle-looking young woman entered the -room. It was evident that she knew nothing of the dreadful scene that -had just occurred, nor did she now remark the intense excitement which -still riveted the spectators to the balcony; for, seeking, apparently, -to avoid all intercourse with strangers, she had seated herself, with -a book, on the chair farthest removed from the window. Nor did she -look up at the first rush of hurried steps into the room; but, when -she did, there was something which arrested her attention, for every -eye was fixed upon her with an undefinable expression of horror, and -every foot seemed to shrink back from approaching her. There was also -a murmur as of one common and irrepressible feeling through the whole -house; quick footsteps were heard as of men impelled by some dreadful -anxiety; doors were banged; voices shouted; and, could any one have -stood by a calm and indifferent spectator, it would have been -interesting to mark the sudden change from the abstracted and composed -look with which Mrs. H---- (for she it was) first raised her head from -her book to the painful restlessness of inquiry with which she now -glanced from eye to eye, and seemed to question what manner of tale -they told. - -It is something awful and dreadful to stand before a fellow-creature -laden with a sorrow which, however we may commiserate it, it is theirs -alone to bear; to be compelled to tear away that vail of -unconsciousness which alone hides their misery from their sight; and -to feel that the faintness gathering round our own heart alone enables -theirs to continue beating with tranquillity. We feel less almost of -pity for the suffering we are about to inflict than for the peace -which we are about to remove; and the smile of unconsciousness which -precedes the knowledge of evil is still more painful to look back upon -than the bitterest tear that follows it. And, if such be the feelings -of the messenger of heavy tidings, the mind that is to receive them is -correspondingly actuated. For who is there that thanks you really for -concealing the evil that was already arrived--for prolonging the -happiness that was already gone? Who cares for a reprieve when -sentence is still to follow? It is a pitiful soul that does not prefer -the sorrow of certainty to the peace of deceit; or, rather, it is a -blessed provision which enables us to acknowledge the preference when -it is no longer in our power to choose. It seems intended as a -protection to the mind from something so degrading to it as an unreal -happiness, that both those who have to inflict misery and those who -have to receive it should alike despise its solace. Those who have -trod the very brink of a precipice, unknowing that it yawned beneath, -look back to those moments of their ignorance with more of horror than -of comfort; such security is too close to danger for the mind ever to -separate them again. Nor need the bearer of sorrow embitter his errand -by hesitations and scruples how to disclose it; he need not pause for -a choice of words or form of statement. In no circumstance of life -does the soul act so utterly independent of all outward agency; it -waits for no explanation, wants no evidence; at the furthest idea of -danger it flies at once to its weakest part; an embarrassed manner -will rouse suspicions, and a faltered word confirm them. Dreadful -things never require precision of terms--they are wholly guessed -before they are half-told. Happiness the heart believes not in till it -stands at our very threshold; misery it flies at as if eager to meet. - -So it was with the unfortunate Mrs. H----; no one spoke of the -accident, no one pointed to the lake; no connecting link seemed to -exist between the security of ignorance and the agony of knowledge. At -one moment she raised her head in placid indifference, at the next she -knew that her husband and child were lying beneath the waters. And did -she faint, or fall as one stricken? No: for the suspicion was too -sudden to be sustained; and the next instant came the thought, This -must be a dream; God can not have done it. And the eyes were closed, -and the convulsed hands pressed tight over them, as if she would shut -out mental vision as well; and groans and sobs burst from the crowd, -and men dashed from the room, unable to bear it; and women, too, -untrue to their calling. And there was weeping and wringing of hands, -and one weak woman fainted; but still no sound or movement came from -her on whom the burden had fallen. Then came the dreadful revulsion of -feeling; and, with contracted brow and gasping breath, and voice -pitched almost to a scream, she said, "It is not true--tell me--it is -not true--tell me--tell me!" And, advancing with desperate gestures, -she made for the balcony. All recoiled before her; when one gentle -woman, small and delicate as herself, opposed her, and, with streaming -eyes and trembling limbs, stood before her. "Oh, go not there--go not -there! cast your heavy burden on the Lord!" These words broke the -spell. Mrs. H---- uttered a cry which long rang in the ears of those -that heard it, and sank, shivering and powerless, in the arms of the -kind stranger. - -Meanwhile, the dreadful scene had been witnessed from all parts of the -hotel, and every male inmate poured from it. The listless tourist of -fashion forgot his languor, the way-worn pedestrian his fatigue. The -hill down to the lake was trodden by eager, hurrying figures, all -anxious to give that which in such cases it is a relief to give, viz., -active assistance. Nor were these all, for down came the sturdy -shepherd from the hills; and the troops of ragged, bare-legged urchins -from all sides; and distant figures of men and women were seen -pressing forward to help or to hear; and the hitherto deserted-looking -valley was active with life. Meanwhile, the survivor hung motionless -over the upturned boat, borne about at the will of the waters, which -were now lashed into great agitation. No one could tell whether it was -Captain H---- or the Highland boatman, and no one could wish for the -preservation of the one more than the other. For life is life to all; -and the poor man's wife and family may have less time to mourn, but -more cause to want. And before the boat, that was manning with eager -volunteers, had left the shore, down came also a tall, raw-boned -woman, breathless, more apparently with exertion than anxiety--her -eyes dry as stones, and her cheeks red with settled color; one child -dragging at her heels, another at her breast. It was the boatman's -wife. Different, indeed, was her suspense to that of the sufferer who -had been left above; but, perhaps, equally true to her capacity. With -her it was fury rather than distress; she scolded the bystanders, chid -the little squalling child, and abused her husband by turns. - -"How dare he gang to risk his life, wi' six bairns at hame? Ae body -knew nae sail was safe on the lake for twa hours thegether; mair fule -he to try!" And then she flung the roaring child on to the grass, bade -the other mind it, strode half-leg high into the water to help to push -off the boat; and then, returning to a place where she could command a -view of its movements, she took up the child and hushed it tenderly to -sleep. Like her, every one now sought some elevated position, and the -progress of the boat seemed to suspend every other thought. It soon -neared the fatal spot, and in another minute was alongside the -upturned boat; the figure was now lifted carefully in, something put -round him, and, from the languor of his movements, and the care taken, -the first impression on shore was that Captain H---- was the one -spared. But it was a mercy to Mrs. H---- that she was not in a state -to know these surmises; for soon the survivor sat steadily upright, -worked his arms, and rubbed his head, as if to restore animation; and, -long before the boat reached the shore, the coarse figure and garments -of the Highland boatman were distantly recognized. Up started his -wife. Unaccustomed to mental emotions of any sudden kind, they were -strange and burdensome to her. - -"What, Meggy! no stay to welcome your husband!" said a bystander. - -"Walcome him yoursal!" she replied; "I hae no the time. I maun get his -dry claes, and het his parritch; and that's the best walcome I can gie -him." And so, perhaps, the husband thought, too. - -And now, what was there more to do? The bodies of Captain H---- and -his little son had sunk in seventy fathom deep of water. If, in their -hidden currents and movements they cast their victims aloft to the -surface, all well; if not, no human hand could reach them. There was -nothing to do! Two beings had ceased to exist, who, as far as regarded -the consciousness and sympathies of the whole party, had never existed -at all before. There had been no influence upon them in their lives, -there was no blank to them in their deaths. They had witnessed a -dreadful tragedy; they knew that she who had risen that morning a -happy wife and mother was now widowed and childless, with a weight of -woe upon her, and a life of mourning before her; but there were no -forms to observe, no rites to prepare; nothing necessarily to -interfere with one habit of the day, or to change one plan for the -morrow. It was only a matter of feeling; a great only, it is true; -but, as with every thing in life, from the merest trifle to the most -momentous occurrence, the matter varied with the individual who felt. -All pitied, some sympathized, but few ventured to help. Some wished -themselves a hundred miles off, because they could not help her; -others wished the same, because she distressed them; and the solitary -back room, hidden from all view of the lake, to which the sufferer had -been home, after being visited by a few well-meaning or curious women, -was finally deserted by all save the kind lady we have mentioned, and -a good-natured maid-servant, the drudge of the hotel, who came in -occasionally to assist. - -We have told the tale exactly as it occurred; the reader knows both -plot and conclusion: and now there only remains to say something of -the ways of human sorrow, and something, too, of the ways of human -goodness. - -Grief falls differently on different hearts; some must vent it, others -can not. The coldest will be the most unnerved, the tenderest the most -possessed; there is no rule. As for this poor lady, hers was of that -sudden and extreme kind for which insensibility is at first mercifully -provided; and it came to her, and yet not entirely--suspending the -sufferings of the mind, but not deadening all the sensation of the -body; for she shivered and shuddered with that bloodless cold which -kept her pale, numb, and icy, like one in the last hours before death. -A large fire was lighted, warm blankets were wrapped round her, but -the cold was too deep to be reached; and the kind efforts made to -restore animation were more a relief to her attendants than to her. -And yet Miss Campbell stopped sometimes from the chafing of the hands, -and let those blue fingers lie motionless in hers, and looked up at -that wan face with an expression as if she wished that the eyes might -never open again, but that death might at once restore what it had -just taken. For some hours no change ensued, and then it was gradual; -the hands were withdrawn from those that held them, and first laid, -and then clenched together; deep sighs of returning breath and -returning knowledge broke from her; the wrappers were thrown off, -first feebly, and then restlessly. There were no dramatic startings, -no abrupt questionings; but, as blood came back to the veins, anguish -came back to the heart. All the signs of excessive mental oppression -now began, a sad train as they are, one extreme leading to the other. -Before, there had been the powerlessness of exertion, now, there was -the powerlessness of control; before she had been benumbed by -insensibility, now, she was impelled as if bereft of sense. Like one -distracted with intense bodily pain, her whole frame seemed strained -to endure. The gentlest of voices whispered comfort, she heard not; -the kindest of arms supported her, she rested not. There was the -unvarying moan, the weary pacing, the repetition of the same action, -the measurement of the same distance, the body vibrating as a mere -machine to the restless recurrence of the same thought. - -We have said that every outer sign of woe was there--all but that -which great sorrows set flowing, but the greatest dry up--she shed no -tears! Tears are things for which a preparation of the heart is -needful; they are granted to anxiety for the future, or lament for the -past. They flow with reminiscences of our own, or with the example of -others; they are sent to separations we have long dreaded, and to -disappointments we can not forget; they come when our hearts are -softened, or when our hearts are wearied; but, in the first amazement -of unlooked-for woe, they find no place: the cup that is suddenly -whelmed over lets no drop of water escape. - -It was evident, however, through all the unruliness of such distress, -that the sufferer was a creature of gentle and considerate nature; in -the whirlpool which convulsed every faculty of her mind, the smooth -surface of former habits was occasionally thrown up. Though the hand -which sought to support her was cast aside with a restless, excited -movement, it was sought the next instant with a momentary pressure of -contrition. Though the head was turned away one instant from the -whisper of consolation with a gesture of impatience, yet it was bowed -the next as if in entreaty of forgiveness. Poor creature! what effort -she could make to allay the storm which was rioting within her was -evidently made for the sake of those around. With so much and so -suddenly to bear, she still showed the habit of forbearance. - -Meanwhile night had far advanced; many had been the inquiries and -expressions of sympathy made at Mrs. H----'s door; but now, one by -one, the parties retired each to their rooms. Few, however, rested -that night as usual; however differently the terrible picture might be -carried on the mind during the hours of light, it forced itself with -almost equal vividness upon all in those of darkness. The father -struggling to reach the child, and then throwing up his arms in agony, -and that fair little head borne about unresistingly by the waves -before they covered it over--these were the figures which haunted many -a pillow. Or, if the recollection of that scene was lulled for a -while, it was recalled again by the weary sound of those footsteps -which told of a mourner who rested not. Of course, among the number -and medley of characters lying under that roof, there was the usual -proportion of the selfish and the careless. None, however, slept that -night without confessing, in word or thought, that life and death are -in the hands of the Lord; and not all, it is to be hoped, forgot the -lesson. One young man, in particular, possessed of fine intellectual -powers, but which unfortunately had been developed among a people who, -God help them! affect to believe only what they understand, was -indebted to this day and night for a great change in his opinions. His -heart was kind, though his understanding was perverted; and the -thought of that young, lovely, and feeble woman, on whom a load of -misery had fallen which would have crushed the strongest of his own -sex, roused within him the strongest sense of the insufficiency of all -human aid or human strength for beings who are framed to love and yet -ordained to lose. He was oppressed with compassion, miserable with -sympathy, he longed with all the generosity of a manly heart to do -something, to suggest something, that should help her, or satisfy -himself. But what were fortitude, philosophy, strength of mind? -Mockeries, nay, more, imbecilities, which he dared not mention to her, -nor so much as think of in the same thought with her woe. Either he -must accuse the Power who had inflicted the wound, and so deep he had -not sunk, or he must acknowledge His means of cure. Impelled, -therefore, by a feeling equally beyond his doubting or his proving, he -did that which for years German sophistry had taught him to forbear; -he gave but little, but he felt that he gave his best--he _prayed_ for -the suffering creature, and in the name of One who suffered for all, -and from that hour God's grace forsook him not. - -But the most characteristic sympathizer on the occasion was Sir Thomas -----, the fine old gentleman who had shouted so loudly from the -balcony. He was at home in this valley, owned the whole range of hills -on one side of the lake from their fertile bases to their bleak tops, -took up his abode generally every summer in this hotel, and felt for -the stricken woman as if she had been a guest of his own. Ever since -the fatal accident he had gone about in a perfect fret of -commiseration, inquiring every half-hour at her door how she was, or -what she had taken. Severe bodily illness or intense mental distress -had never fallen upon that bluff person and warm heart, and abstinence -from food was in either case the proof of an extremity for which he -had every compassion, but of which he had no knowledge. He prescribed, -therefore, for the poor lady every thing that he would have relished -himself, and nothing at that moment could have made him so happy as to -have been allowed to send her up the choicest meal that the country -could produce. Not that his benevolence was at all limited to such -manifestations; if it did not deal in sentiment, it took the widest -range of practice. His laborers were dispatched round the lake to -watch for any traces of the late catastrophe; he himself kept up an -hour later planning how he could best promote the comfort of her -onward journey and of her present stay; and though the good old -gentleman was now snoring loudly over the very apartment which -contained the object of his sympathy, he would have laid down his life -to save those that were gone, and half his fortune to solace her who -was left. - -Some hours had elapsed, the footsteps had ceased, there was quiet, if -not rest, in the chamber of mourning; and, shortly after sunrise, a -side door in the hotel opened, and she who had been as a sister to the -stranger, never seen before, came slowly forth. She was worn with -watching, her heart was sick with the sight and sounds of such woe, -and she sought the refreshment of the outer air and the privacy of the -early day. It was a dawn promising a day as beautiful as the -preceding; the sun was beaming mildly through an opening toward the -east, wakening the tops of the nearest hills, while all the rest of -the beautiful range lay huge and colorless, nodding, as it were, to -their drowsy reflections beneath, and the lake itself looked as calm -and peaceful as if the winds had never swept over its waters, nor -those waters over all that a wife and mother had loved. Man is such a -speck on this creation of which he is lord, that had every human being -now sleeping on the green sides of the hills, been lying deep among -their dark feet in the lake, it would not have shown a ripple the -more. Miss Campbell, meanwhile, wandered slowly on, and though -apparently unmindful of the beauty of the scene, she was evidently -soothed by its influence. All that dreary night long had she cried -unto God in ceaseless prayer, and felt that without His help in her -heart, and His word on her lips, she had been but as a strengthless -babe before the sight of that anguish. But here beneath His own -heavens her communings were freer; her soul seemed not so much to need -Him below, as to rise to Him above; and the solemn dejection upon a -very careworn, but sweet face, became less painful, but perhaps more -touching. In her wanderings she had now left the hotel to her left -hand, the boatman's clay cottage was just above, and below a little -rough pier of stones, to an iron ring in one of which the boat was -usually attached. She had stood on that self-same spot the day before -and watched Captain H---- and his little son as they walked down to -the pier, summoned the boatman, and launched into the cool, smooth -water. She now went down herself, and stood with a feeling of awe upon -the same stones they had so lately left. The shores were loose and -shingly, many footsteps were there, but one particularly riveted her -gaze. It was tiny in shape and light in print, and a whole succession -of them went off toward the side as if following a butterfly, or -attracted by a bright stone. Alas! they we're the last prints of that -little foot on the shores of this world! Miss Campbell had seen the -first thunderbolt of misery burst upon his mother; she had borne the -sight of her as she lay stunned, and as she rose frenzied, but that -tiny footprint was worse than all, and she burst into a passionate fit -of tears. She felt as if it were desecration to sweep them away, as if -she could have shrined them round from the winds and waves, and -thoughtless tread of others; but a thought came to check her. What did -it matter how the trace of his little foot, or how the memory of his -short life were obliterated from this earth? There was One above who -had numbered every hair of his innocent head, and in His presence she -humbly hoped both father and child were now rejoicing. - -She was just turning away when the sound of steps approached, and the -boatman's wife came up. Her features were coarse and her frame was -gaunt, as we have said, but she was no longer the termagant of the day -before, nor was she ever so. But the lower classes, in the most -civilized lands, are often, both in joy and grief, an enigma to those -above them; if nature, rare alike in all ranks, speak not for them, -they have no conventional imitation to put in her place. The feeling -of intense suspense was new to her, and the violence she had assumed -had been the awkwardness which, under many eyes, knew not otherwise -how to express or, conceal; but she had sound Scotch sense, and a -tender woman's heart, and spoke them both now truly, if not -gracefully. - -"Ye'll be frae the hotel, yonder?" she said; "can ye tell me how the -puir leddy has rested? I was up mysel' to the house, and they tell't -me they could hear her greeting!" - -Miss Campbell told her in a few words what the reader knows, and asked -for her husband. - -"Oh! he's weel eneugh in body, but sair disquieted in mind. No that -he's unmindfu' of the mercy of the Lord to himsel', but he can no just -keep the thocht away that it was he wha helped those poor creatures to -their end." She then proceeded earnestly to exculpate her husband, -assuring Miss Campbell that in spite of the heavy wind and the -entangled rope, all might even yet have been well if the gentleman had -kept his seat. "But I just tell him that there's Ane above, stronger -than the wind, who sunk them in the lake, and could have raised them -from it, but it was no His pleasure. The puir leddy would ha' been -nane the happier if Andrew had been ta'en as well, and I and the -bairns muckle the waur." Then observing where Miss Campbell stood, she -continued, in a voice of much emotion, "Ah! I mind them weel as they -came awa' down here; the bairnie was playing by as Andrew loosened the -boat--the sweet bairnie! so happy and thochtless as he gaed in his -beautiful claes--I see him noo!" and the poor woman wiped her eyes. -"But there's something ye'll like to see. Jeanie! gang awa' up, and -bring the little bonnet that hangs on the peg. Andrew went out again -with the boat the night, and picked it up. But it will no be dry." - -The child returned with a sad token. It was the little fellow's cap; a -smart, town-made article, with velvet band, and long silk tassel which -had been his first vanity, and his mother had coaxed it smooth as she -pulled the peak low down over his fair forehead, and then, fumbling -his little fingers into his gloves, had given him a kiss which she -little thought was to be the last! - -"I was coming awa' up wi' it mysel', but the leddy will no just bear -to see it yet." - -"No, not yet," said Miss Campbell, "if ever. Let me take it. I shall -remain with her till better friends come here, or she goes to them;" -and giving the woman money, which she had difficulty in making her -accept, she possessed herself of the cap, and turned away. - -She soon reached the hotel, it was just five o'clock, all blinds were -down, and there was no sign of life; but one figure was pacing up and -down, and seemed to be watching for her. It was Sir Thomas. His -sympathy had broken his sleep in the morning, though it had not -disturbed it at night. He began in his abrupt way: - -"Madam, I have been watching for you. I heard you leave the house. -Madam, I feel almost ashamed to lift up my eyes to you; while we have -all been wishing and talking, you alone have been acting. We are all -obliged to you, madam; there is not a creature here with a heart in -them to whom you have not given comfort!" - -Miss Campbell tried to escape from the honest overflowings of the old -man's feelings. - -"You have only done what you liked: very true, madam. It is choking -work having to pity without knowing how to help; but I would sooner -give ten thousand pounds than see what you have seen. I would do any -thing for the poor creature, any thing, but I could not look at her." -He then told her that his men had been sent with the earliest dawn to -different points of the lake, but as yet without finding any traces of -the late fatal accident; and then his eyes fell upon the cap in Miss -Campbell's hand, and he at once guessed the history. "Picked up last -evening, you say--sad, sad--a dreadful thing!" and his eyes filling -more than it was convenient to hold, he turned away, blew his nose, -took a short turn, and coming back again, continued, "But tell me, how -has she rested? what has she taken? You must not let her weep too -much!" - -"Let her weep!" said Miss Campbell; "I wish I could bid her. She has -not shed a tear yet, and mind and body alike want it. I left her -lying back quiet in an arm-chair, but I fear this quiet is worse than -what has gone before!" - -"God bless my heart!" said Sir Thomas, his eyes now running over -without control. "God bless my heart! this is sad work. Not that I -ever wished a woman to cry before in my life, if she could help it. -Poor thing! poor thing! I'll send for a medical man: the nearest is -fifteen miles off!" - -"I think it will be necessary. I am now going back to her room." - -"Well, ma'am, I won't detain you longer, but don't keep all the good -to yourself. Let me know if there is any thing that I, or my men, or," -the old gentleman hesitated, "my money, madam, can do, only don't ask -me to see her;" and so they each went their way--Sir Thomas to the -stables to send off man and horse, and Miss Campbell to the chamber of -mourning. - -She started as she entered; the blind was drawn up, and, leaning -against the shutter, in apparent composure, stood Mrs. H----. That -composure was dreadful; it was the calm of intense agitation, the -silence of boiling heat, the immovability of an object in the most -rapid motion. The light was full upon her, showing cheek and forehead -flushed, and veins bursting on the small hands. Miss Campbell -approached with trembling limbs. - -"Where is the servant?"--"I did not want her." - -"Will you not rest?"--"I _can not_!" - -Miss Campbell was weary and worn out; the picture before her was so -terrible, she sunk on the nearest chair in an agony of tears. - -Without changing her position, Mrs. H---- turned her head, and said, -gently, "Oh, do not cry so! it is I who ought to cry, but my heart is -as dry as my eyes, and my head is so tight, and I can not think for -its aching; I can not think, I can not understand, I can not remember, -I don't even know your name, then why should this be true? It is I who -am ill, they are well, but they never were so long from me before." -Then coming forward, her face working, and her breath held tightly, as -if a scream were pressing behind, "Tell me," she said, "tell me--my -husband and child--" she tried hard to articulate, but the words were -lost in a frightful contortion. Miss Campbell mastered herself, she -saw the rack of mental torture was strained to the utmost. Neither -could bear this much longer. She almost feared resistance, but she -felt there was one way to which the sufferer would respond. - -"I am weary and tired," she said; "weary with staying up with you all -night. If you will lie down, I will soon come and lie by your side." - -Poor Mrs. H---- said nothing, but let herself be laid upon the bed. - -Three mortal hours passed, she was burnt with a fever which only her -own tears could quench; and those wide-open, dry eyes were fearful to -see. A knock came to the door, "How is she now?" said Sir Thomas's -voice, "The doctor is here: you look as if you wanted him yourself. -I'll bring him up." - -The medical man entered. Such a case had not occurred in his small -country practice before, but he was a sensible and a kind man, and no -practice could have helped him here if he had not been. He heard the -whole sad history, felt the throbbing pulse, saw the flush on the -face, and wide-open eyes, which now seemed scarcely to notice any -thing. He took Miss Campbell into another room, and said that the -patient must be instantly roused, and then bled if necessary. - -"But the first you can undertake better than I, madam." He looked -round. "Is there no little object which would recall?--nothing you -could bring before her sight? You understand me?" - -Indeed, Miss Campbell did. She had not sat by that bed-side for the -last three hours without feeling and fearing that this was necessary; -but, at the same time, she would rather have cut off her own hand than -undertaken it. She hesitated--but for a moment, and then whispered -something to Sir Thomas. - -"God bless my heart!" said he: "who would have thought of it? Yes. I -know it made me cry like a child." - -And then he repeated her proposition to the medical man, who gave -immediate assent, and she left the room. In a few minutes she entered -that of Mrs. H---- with the little boy's cap in her hand, placed it in -a conspicuous position before the bed, and then seated herself with a -quick, nervous motion by the bed-side. It was a horrid pause, like -that which precedes a cruel operation, where you have taken upon -yourself the second degree of suffering--that of witnessing it. The -cap lay there on the small stone mantle-piece, with its long, -drabbled, weeping tassel, like a funeral emblem. It was not many -minutes before it caught those eyes for which it was intended. A -suppressed exclamation broke from her; she flew from the bed, looked -at Miss Campbell one instant in intense inquiry, and the next had the -cap in her hands. The touch of that wet object seemed to dissolve the -spell; her whole frame trembled with sudden relaxation. She sank, -half-kneeling, on the floor, and tears spouted from her eyes. No -blessed rain from heaven to famished earth was ever more welcome. -Tears, did we say? Torrents! Those eyes, late so hot and dry, were as -two arteries of the soul suddenly opened. What a misery that had been -which had sealed them up! They streamed over her face, blinding her -riveted gaze, falling on her hands, on the cap, on the floor. -Meanwhile the much-to-be-pitied sharer of her sorrow knelt by her -side, her whole frame scarcely less unnerved than that she sought to -support, uttering broken ejaculations and prayers, and joining her -tears to those which flowed so passionately. But she had a gentle and -meek spirit to deal with. Mrs. H---- crossed her hands over the cap -and bowed her head. Thus she continued a minute, and then turning, -still on her knees, she laid her head on her companion's shoulder. - -"Help me up," she said, "for I am without strength." And all weak, -trembling, and sobbing, she allowed herself to be undressed and put to -bed. - -Miss Campbell lay down in the same room. She listened till the -quivering, catching sobs had given place to deep-drawn sighs, and -these again to disturbed breathings, and then both slept the sleep of -utter exhaustion, and Miss Campbell, fortunately, knew not when the -mourner awoke from it. - -Oh, the dreary first-fruits of excessive sorrow! The first days of a -stricken heart, passed through, writhed through, ground through, we -scarcely know or remember how, before the knowledge of the bereavement -has become habitual--while it is still struggle and not endurance--the -same ceaseless recoil from the same ever-recurring shock. It was a -blessing that she was ill, very ill; the body shared something of the -weight at first. - -Let no one, untried by such extremity, here lift the word or look of -deprecation. Let there not be a thought of what she ought to have -done, or what they would have done. God's love is great, and a -Christian's faith is strong, but when have the first encounters -between old joys and new sorrows been otherwise than fierce? From time -to time a few intervals of heavenly composure, wonderful and gracious -to the sufferer, may be permitted, and even the dim light of future -peace discerned in the distance; but, in a moment, the gauntlet of -defiance is thrown again--no matter what--an old look, an old word, -which comes rushing unbidden over the soul, and dreadful feelings rise -again only to spend themselves by their own violence. It always seems -to us as if sorrow had a nature of its own, independent of that -whereon it has fallen, and sometimes strangely at variance with -it--scorching the gentle, melting the passionate, dignifying the weak, -and prostrating the strong--and showing the real nature, habits, or -principles of the mind, only in those defenses it raises up during the -intervals of relief. With Mrs. H---- these defenses were reared on the -only sure base, and though the storm would sweep down her bulwarks, -and cover all over with the furious tide of grief, yet the foundation -was left to cling to, and every renewal added somewhat to its -strength. - -Three days were spent thus, but the fourth she was better, and on Miss -Campbell's approaching her bed-side, she drew her to her, and, putting -her arms round her neck, imprinted a calm and solemn kiss upon her -cheek. - -"Oh! what can I ever do for you, dear friend and comforter? God, who -has sent you to me in my utmost need, He alone can reward you. I don't -even know your name; but that matters not, I know your heart. Now, you -may tell me all--all; before, I felt as if I could neither know nor -forget what had happened, before, it was as if God had withdrawn His -countenance; but now He is gracious, He has heard your prayers." - -And then, with the avidity of fresh, hungry sorrow, she besought Miss -Campbell to tell her all she knew; she besought and would not be -denied, for sorrow has royal authority, its requests are commands. So, -with the hand of each locked together, and the eyes of each averted, -they sat questioning and answering in disjointed sentences till the -whole sad tale was told. Then, anxious to turn a subject which could -not be banished, Miss Campbell spoke of the many hearts that had bled, -and the many prayers that had ascended for her, and told her of that -kind old man who had thought, acted, and grieved for her like a -father. - -"God bless him--God bless them all; but chiefly you, my sister. I want -no other name." - -"Call me Catherine," said the faithful companion. - -Passionate bursts of grief would succeed such conversations; -nevertheless, they were renewed again and again, for, like all -sufferers from severe bereavements, her heart needed to create a world -for itself, where its loved ones still were, as a defense against that -outer one where they were not, and to which she was only slowly and -painfully to be inured, if ever. In these times she would love to tell -Catherine--what Catherine most loved to hear--how that her lost -husband was both a believer and a doer of Christ's holy word, and that -her lost child had learned at her knee what she herself had chiefly -learned from his father. For she had been brought up in ignorance and -indifference to religious truths, and the greatest happiness of her -life had commenced that knowledge, which its greatest sorrow was now -to complete. - -"I have been such a happy woman," she would say, "that I have pitied -others less blessed, though I trust they have not envied me." And then -would follow sigh on sigh and tear on tear, and again her soul writhed -beneath the agony of that implacable mental spasm. - -Sometimes the mourner would appear to lose, instead of gaining ground, -and would own with depression, and even with shame, her fear that she -was becoming more and more the sport of ungovernable feeling. "My -sorrow is sharp enough," she would say, "but it is a still sharper -pang when I feel I am not doing my duty under it. It is not thus that -_he_ would have had me act." And her kind companion, always at hand to -give sympathy or comfort, would bid her not exact or expect any thing -from herself, but to cast all upon God, reminding her in words of -tenderness that her soul was as a sick child, and that strength would -not be required until strength was vouchsafed. "Strength," said the -mourner, "no more strength or health for me." And Miss Campbell would -whisper that, though "weariness endureth for a night, joy comes in the -morning." Or she would be silent, for she knew, as most women do, -alike how to soothe and when to humor. - -It was a beautiful and a moving sight to see two beings thus riveted -together in the exercise and receipt of the tenderest and most -intimate feelings, who had never known of each other's existence -till the moment that made the one dependent and the other -indispensable. All the shades and grades of conventional and natural -acquaintanceship, all the gradual insight into mutual character, and -the gradual growth into mutual trust, which it is so sweet to look -back upon from the high ground of friendship, were lost to them; but -it mattered not, here they were together, the one admitted into the -sanctuary of sorrow, the other sharing in the fullness of love, with -no reminiscence in common but one, and that sufficient to bind them -together for life. - -Meanwhile the friend without was also unremitting in his way. He -crossed not her threshold in person, nor would have done so for the -world, but his thoughts were always reaching Mrs. H---- in some kind -form. Every delicate dainty that money could procure--beautiful fruits -and flowers which had scarce entered this valley before--every thing -that could tempt the languid appetite or divert the weary eye was in -turn thought of, and each handed in with a kind, hearty inquiry, till -the mourner listened with pleasure for the step and voice. Nor was -Miss Campbell forgotten; all the brief snatches of air and exercise -she enjoyed were in his company, and often did he insist on her coming -out for a short walk or drive when the persuasions of Mrs. H---- had -failed to induce her to leave a room where she was the only joy. But -now a fresh object attracted Sir Thomas's activity, for after many -days the earthly remains of one of the sufferers were thrown up. It -was the body of the little boy. Sir Thomas directed all that was -necessary to be done, and having informed Miss Campbell, the two -friends, each strange to the other, and bound together by the interest -in one equally strange to both, went out together up the hill above -the hotel, and were gone longer than usual. The next day the -intelligence was communicated to Mrs. H----, who received it calmly, -but added, "I could have wished them both to have rested together; but -God's will be done. I ought not to think of them as on earth." - -The grave of little Harry H---- was dug far from the burial-ground of -his fathers, and strangers followed him to it; but though there were -no familiar faces among those who stood round, there were no cold -ones; and when Sir Thomas, as chief mourner, threw the earth upon the -lowered coffin, warm tears fell upon it also. Miss Campbell had -watched the procession from the window, and told how the good old man -walked next behind the minister, the boatman and his wife following -him, and how a long train succeeded, all pious and reverential in -their bearing, with that air of manly decorum which the Scotch -peasantry conspicuously show on such occasions. And she who lay on a -bed of sorrow and weakness blessed them through her tears, and felt -that her child's funeral was not lonely. - -From this time the mourner visibly mended. The funeral and the -intelligence that preceded it had insensibly given her that change of -the same theme, the want of which had been so much felt at first. She -had now taken up her burden, and, for the dear sakes of those for whom -she bore it, it became almost sweet to her. She was not worshiping her -sorrow as an idol, but cherishing it as a friend. Meanwhile she had -received many kind visits from the minister who had buried her child, -and had listened to his exhortations with humility and gratitude; but -his words were felt as admonitions, Catherine's as comfort. To her, -now dearer and dearer, every day she would confess aloud the secret -changes of her heart; how at one time the world looked all black and -dreary before her, how at another she seemed already to live in a -brighter one beyond; how one day life was a burden she knew not how to -bear, and another how the bitterness of death seemed already past. -Then with true Christian politeness she would lament over the -selfishness of her grief, and ask where Miss Campbell had learned to -know that feeling which she felt henceforth was to be the only solace -of her life--viz., the deep, deep sympathy for others. And Catherine -would tell her, with that care-worn look which confirmed all she said, -how she had been sorely tried, not by the death of those she loved, -but by what was worse--their sufferings and their sins. How she had -been laden with those misfortunes which wound most and teach least, -and which, although coming equally from the hand of God, torment you -with the idea that, but for the wickedness or weakness of some human -agent, they need never have been; till she had felt, wrongly no doubt, -that she could have better borne those on which the stamp of the -Divine Will was more legibly impressed. She told her how the sting of -sorrow, like that of death, is sin; how comparatively light it was to -see those you love dead, dying, crippled, maniacs, victims, in short, -of any evil, rather than victims of evil itself. She spoke of a -heart-broken sister and a hard-hearted brother; of a son--an only one, -like him just buried--who had gone on from sin to sin, hardening his -own heart, and wringing those of others, till none but a mother's love -remained to him, and that he outraged. She told, in short, so much of -the sad realities of life, in which, if there was not more woe, there -was less comfort, that Mrs. H---- acknowledged in her heart that such -griefs had indeed been unendurable, and returned with something like -comfort to the undisturbed sanctity of her own. - -About this time a summons came which required Sir Thomas to quit the -valley in which these scenes had been occurring. Mrs. H---- could have -seen him, and almost longed to see him; but he shrunk from her, -fearing no longer her sorrow so much as her gratitude. - -"Tell her I love her," he said, in his abrupt way, "and always shall; -but I can't see her--at least, not yet." Then, explaining to Miss -Campbell all the little arrangements for the continuation of the -mourner's comfort, which his absence might interrupt, he authorized -her to dispose of his servants, his horses, and every thing that -belonged to him, and finally put into her hands a small packet, -directed to Mrs. H----, with instructions when to give it. He had -ascertained that Mrs. H---- was wealthy, and that her great -afflictions entailed no minor privations. "But you, my dear, are poor; -at least, I hope so, for I could not be happy unless I were of service -to you. I am just as much obliged to you as Mrs. H---- is. Mind, you -have promised to write to me and to apply to me without reserve. No -kindness, no honor--nonsense. It is _I_ who honor _you_ above every -creature I know, but I would not be a woman for the world; at least, -the truth is, I _could_ not." And so he turned hastily away. - -And now the time approached when she, who had entered this valley a -happy wife and mother, was to leave it widowed and childless, a -sorrowing and heavy-hearted woman, but not an unhappy one. She had -but few near relations, and those scattered in distant lands; but -there were friends who would break the first desolation of her former -home, and Catherine had promised to bear her company till she had -committed her into their hands. - -It was a lovely evening, the one before their departure. Mrs. H---- -was clad for the first time in all that betokened her to be a mourner; -but, as Catherine looked from the black habiliments to that pale face, -she felt that there was the deepest mourning of all. Slowly the widow -passed through that side-door we have mentioned, and stood once more -under God's heaven. Neither had mentioned to the other the errand on -which they were bound, but both felt that there was but one. Slowly -and feebly she mounted the gentle slope, and often she stopped, for it -was more than weakness or fatigue that made her breath fail. The way -was beautiful, close to the rocky bed and leafy sides of that sweetest -of all sweet things in the natural world, a Scotch burn. And now they -turned, for the rich strip of grass, winding among bush and rock, -which they had been following as a path, here spread itself out in a -level shelf of turf, where the burn ran smoother, the bushes grew -higher, and where the hill started upward again in bolder lines. Here -there was a fresh-covered grave. The widow knelt by it, while -Catherine stood back. Long was that head bowed, first in anguish, and -then in submission, and then she turned her face toward the lake, on -which she had not looked since that fatal day, and gazed steadily upon -it. The child lay in his narrow bed at her feet, but the father had a -wider one far beneath. Catherine now approached and was folded in a -silent embrace; then she gave her that small packet which Sir Thomas -had left, and begged her to open it on the spot. It was a legal deed, -making over to Mary H----, in free gift, the ground on which she -stood--a broad strip from the tip of the hill to the waters of the -lake. The widow's tears rained fast upon it. - -"Both God and man are very good to me," she said; "I am lonely but not -forsaken. But, Catherine, it is you to whom I must speak. I have tried -to speak before, but never felt I could till now. Oh, Catherine! stay -with me; let us never be parted. God gave you to me when He took all -else beside; He has not done it for naught. I can bear to return to my -lonely home if you will share it--I can bear to see this valley, this -grave again, if you are with me. I am not afraid of tying your -cheerfulness to my sorrow; I feel that I am under a calamity, but I -feel also that I am under no curse--you will help to make it a -blessing. Oh! complete your sacred work, give me years to requite to -you your last few days to me. You have none who need you more--none -who love you more. Oh! follow me; here, on my child's grave, I humbly -entreat you, follow me." - -Catherine trembled; she stood silent a minute, and then, with a low, -firm voice, replied, "Here, on your child's grave, I promise you. Your -people shall be my people, and your God my God." She kept her promise -and never repented it. - - - - -LIFE OF BLAKE, THE GREAT ADMIRAL. - - -Robert Blake was born at Bridgewater, in August, 1599. His father, -Humphrey Blake, was a merchant trading with Spain--a man whose temper -seems to have been too sanguine and adventurous for the ordinary -action of trade, finally involving him in difficulties which clouded -his latter days, and left his family in straitened circumstances: his -name, however, was held in general respect; and we find that he lived -in one of the best houses in Bridgewater, and twice filled the chair -of its chief magistrate. The perils to which mercantile enterprise was -then liable--the chance escapes and valorous deeds which the -successful adventurer had to tell his friends and children on the dark -winter nights--doubtless formed a part of the food on which the -imagination of young Blake, "silent and thoughtful from his -childhood," was fed in the "old house at home." At the Bridgewater -grammar-school, Robert received his early education, making tolerable -acquaintance with Latin and Greek, and acquiring a strong bias toward -a literary life. This _penchant_ was confirmed by his subsequent -career at Oxford, where he matriculated at sixteen, and where he -strove hard, but fruitlessly, for scholarships and fellowships at -different colleges. His failure to obtain a Merton fellowship has been -attributed to a crotchet of the warden's, Sir Henry Savile, in favor -of tall men: "The young Somersetshire student, thick-set, -fair-complexioned, and only five feet six, fell below his standard of -manly beauty;" and thus the Cavalier warden, in denying this aspirant -the means of cultivating literature on a little university oatmeal, -was turning back on the world one who was fated to become a republican -power of the age. This shining light, instead of comfortably and -obscurely merging in a petty constellation of Alma Mater, was to -become a bright particular star, and dwell apart. The avowed -liberalism of Robert may, however, have done more in reality to shock -Sir Henry, than his inability to add a cubit to his stature. It is -pleasant to know, that the "admiral and general at sea" never outgrew -a tenderness for literature--his first-love, despite the rebuff of his -advances. Even in the busiest turmoil of a life teeming with accidents -by flood and field, he made it a point of pride not to forget his -favorite classics. Nor was it till after nine years' experience of -college-life, and when his father was no longer able to manage his -_res angusta vitæ_, that Robert finally abandoned his long-cherished -plans, and retired with a sigh and last adieu from the banks of the -Isis. - -When he returned to Bridgewater, in time to close his father's eyes, -and superintend the arrangements of the family, he was already -remarkable for that "iron will, that grave demeanor, that free and -dauntless spirit," which so distinguished his after-course. His tastes -were simple, his manners somewhat bluntly austere; a refined dignity -of countenance, and a picturesque vigor of conversation, invested him -with a social interest, to which his indignant invectives against -court corruptions gave distinctive character. To the Short Parliament -he was sent as member for his native town; and in 1645, was returned -by Taunton to the Long Parliament. At the dissolution of the former, -which he regarded as a signal for action, he began to prepare arms -against the king; his being one of the first troops in the field, and -engaged in almost every action of importance in the western counties. -His superiority to the men about him lay in the "marvelous fertility, -energy, and comprehensiveness of his military genius." Prince Rupert -alone, in the Royalist camp, could rival him as a "partisan soldier." -His first distinguished exploit was his defense of Prior's Hill fort, -at the siege of Bristol--which contrasts so remarkably with the -pusillanimity of his chief, Colonel Fiennes. Next comes his yet more -brilliant defense of Lyme--then a little fishing-town, with some 900 -inhabitants, of which the defenses were a dry ditch, a few -hastily-formed earth-works, and three small batteries, but which the -Cavalier host of Prince Maurice, trying storm, stratagem, blockade, -day after day, and week after week, failed to reduce or dishearten. -"At Oxford, where Charles then was, the affair was an inexplicable -marvel and mystery: every hour the court expected to hear that the -'little vile fishing-town,' as Clarendon contemptuously calls it, had -fallen, and that Maurice had marched away to enterprises of greater -moment; but every post brought word to the wondering council, that -Colonel Blake still held out, and that his spirited defense was -rousing and rallying the dispersed adherents of Parliament in those -parts." After the siege was raised, the Royalists found that more men -of gentle blood had fallen under Blake's fire at Lyme, than in all -other sieges and skirmishes in the western counties since the opening -of the war. - -The hero's fame had become a spell in the west: it was seen that he -rivaled Rupert in rapid and brilliant execution, and excelled him in -the caution and sagacity of his plans. He took Taunton--a place so -important at that juncture, as standing on and controlling the great -western highway--in July, 1644, within a week of Cromwell's defeat of -Rupert at Marston Moor. All the vigor of the Royalists was -brought to bear on the captured town; Blake's defense of which is -justly characterized as abounding with deeds of individual -heroism--exhibiting in its master-mind a rare combination of civil and -military genius. The spectacle of an unwalled town, in an inland -district, with no single advantage of site, surrounded by powerful -castles and garrisons, and invested by an enemy brave, watchful, -numerous, and well provided with artillery, successively resisting -storm, strait, and blockade for several months, thus paralyzing the -king's power, and affording Cromwell time to remodel the army, -naturally arrested the attention of military writers at that time; and -French authors of this class bestowed on Taunton the name of the -modern Saguntum. The rage of the Royalists at this prolonged -resistance was extreme. Reckoning from the date when Blake first -seized the town, to that of Goring's final retreat, the defense -lasted exactly a year, and under circumstances of almost overwhelming -difficulty to the besieged party, who, in addition to the fatigue of -nightly watches, and the destruction of daily conflicts, suffered from -terrible scarcity of provisions. "Not a day passed without a fire; -sometimes eight or ten houses were burning at the same moment; and in -the midst of all the fear, horror, and confusion incident to such -disasters, Blake and his little garrison had to meet the -storming-parties of an enemy brave, exasperated, and ten times their -own strength. But every inch of ground was gallantly defended. A broad -belt of ruined cottages and gardens was gradually formed between the -besiegers and the besieged; and on the heaps of broken walls and burnt -rafters, the obstinate contest was renewed from day to day." At last -relief arrived from London; and Goring, in savage dudgeon, beat a -retreat, notwithstanding the wild oath he had registered, either to -reduce that haughty town, or to lay his bones in its trenches. - -Blake was now the observed of all observers; but, unlike most of his -compeers, he abstained from using his advantages for purposes of -selfish or personal aggrandizement. He kept aloof from the "centre of -intrigues," and remained at his post, "doing his duty humbly and -faithfully at a distance from Westminster; while other men, with less -than half his claims, were asking and obtaining the highest honors and -rewards from a grateful and lavish country." Nor, indeed, did he at -any time side with the ultras of his party, but loudly disapproved of -the policy of the regicides. This, coupled with his influence, so -greatly deserved and so deservedly great, made him an object of -jealousy with Cromwell and his party; and it was owing, perhaps, to -their anxiety to keep him removed from the home sphere of action, that -he was now appointed to the chief naval command. - -Hitherto, and for years afterward, no state, ancient or modern, as -Macaulay points out, had made a separation between the military and -the naval service. Cimon and Lysander, Pompey and Agrippa, had fought -by sea as well as by land: at Flodden, the right wing of the English -was led by her admiral, and the French admiral led the Huguenots at -Jarnac, &c. Accordingly, Blake was summoned from his pacific -government at Taunton, to assume the post of "General and Admiral at -Sea;" a title afterward changed to "General of the Fleet." Two others -were associated with him in the command; but Blake seems at _least_ to -have been recognized as _primus inter pares_. The navy system was in -deplorable need of reform; and a reformer it found in Robert Blake, -from the very day he became an admiral. His care for the well-being of -his men made him an object of their almost adoring attachment. From -first to last, he stood alone as England's model seaman. "Envy, -hatred, and jealousy dogged the steps of every other officer in the -fleet; but of him, both then and afterward, every man spoke well." The -"tremendous powers" intrusted to him by the Council of State, he -exercised with off-handed and masterly success--startling politicians -and officials of the _ancien régime_, by his bold and open tactics, -and his contempt for tortuous by-paths in diplomacy. His wondrous -exploits were performed with extreme poverty of means. He was the -first to repudiate and disprove the supposed fundamental maxim in -marine warfare, that no ship could attack a castle, or other strong -fortification, with any hope of success. The early part of his naval -career was occupied in opposing and defeating the piratical -performances of Prince Rupert, which then constituted the support of -the exiled Stuarts. Blake's utmost vigilance and activity were -required to put down this extraordinary system of freebooting; and by -the time that he had successively overcome Rupert, and the minor but -stubborn adventurers, Grenville and Carteret, he was in request to -conduct the formidable war with Holland, and to cope with such -veterans as Tromp, De Witt, De Ruyter, &c. - -On one occasion only did Blake suffer ever a defeat; and this one is -easily explained by--first, Tromp's overwhelming superiority of force; -secondly, the extreme deficiency of men in the English fleet; and, -thirdly, the cowardice or disaffection of several of Blake's captains -at a critical moment in the battle. Notwithstanding this disaster, not -a whisper was heard against the admiral either in the Council of State -or in the city; his offer to resign was flatteringly rejected; and he -soon found, that the "misfortune which might have ruined another man, -had given him strength and influence in the country." This disaster, -in fact, gave him power to effect reforms in the service, and to root -out abuses which had defied all his efforts in the day of his success. -He followed it up by the great battle of Portland, and other -triumphant engagements. - -Then came his sweeping _tours de force_ in the Mediterranean; in six -months he established himself as a power in that great midland sea, -from which his countrymen had been politically excluded since the age -of the Crusades--teaching nations, to which England's very name was a -strange sound, to respect its honors and its rights; chastising the -pirates of Barbary with unprecedented severity; making Italy's petty -princes feel the power of the northern Protestants; causing the pope -himself to tremble on his seven hills; and startling the -council-chambers of Venice and Constantinople with the distant echoes -of our guns. And be it remembered, that England had then no Malta, -Corfu, and Gibraltar as the bases of naval operations in the -Mediterranean: on the contrary, Blake found that in almost every gulf -and island of that sea--in Malta, Venice, Genoa, Leghorn, Algiers, -Tunis, and Marseilles--there existed a rival and an enemy; nor were -there more than three or four harbors in which he could obtain even -bread for love or money. - -After this memorable cruise, he had to conduct the Spanish war--a -business quite to his mind; for though his highest renown had been -gained in his conflicts with the Dutch, he had secretly disliked such -encounters between two Protestant states; whereas, in the -case of Popish Spain, his soul leaped at the anticipation of -battle--sympathizing as he did with the Puritan conviction, that Spain -was the devil's stronghold in Europe. At this period, Blake was -suffering from illness, and was sadly crippled in his naval -equipments, having to complain constantly of the neglect at home to -remedy the exigencies of the service. "Our ships," he writes, -"extremely foul, winter drawing on, our victuals expiring, all stores -failing, our men falling sick through the badness of drink, and eating -their victuals boiled in salt water for two months' space" (1655). His -own constitution was thoroughly undermined. For nearly a year, remarks -his biographer, "he had never quitted the 'foul and defective' -flag-ship. Want of exercise and sweet food, beer, wine, water, bread, -and vegetables, had helped to develop scurvy and dropsy; and his -sufferings from these diseases were now acute and continuous." But his -services were indispensable, and Blake was not the man to shrink from -dying in harness. His sun set gloriously at Santa Cruz--that -miraculous and unparalleled action, as Clarendon calls it, which -excited such grateful enthusiasm at home. At home! words of -fascination to the maimed and enfeebled veteran, who now turned his -thoughts so anxiously toward the green hills of his native land. -Cromwell's letter of thanks, the plaudits of parliament, and the -jeweled ring sent to him by his loving countrymen, reached him while -homeward bound. But he was not again to tread the shores he had -defended so well. - -As the ships rolled through the Bay of Biscay, his sickness increased, -and affectionate adherents saw with dismay that he was drawing near to -the gates of the grave. "Some gleams of the old spirit broke forth as -they approached the latitude of England. He inquired often and -anxiously if the white cliffs were yet in sight. He longed to behold -once more the swelling downs, the free cities, the goodly churches of -his native land.... At last, the Lizard was announced. Shortly -afterward, the bold cliffs and bare hills of Cornwall loomed out -grandly in the distance. But it was too late for the dying hero. He -had sent for the captains and other great officers of his fleet, to -bid them farewell; and while they were yet in his cabin, the -undulating hills of Devonshire, glowing with the tints of early -autumn, came full in view.... But the eyes which had so yearned to -behold this scene once more were at that very instant closing in -death. Foremost of the victorious squadron, the _St. George_ rode with -its precious burden into the Sound; and just as it came into full view -of the eager thousands crowding the beach, the pier-heads, the walls -of the citadel, &c, ready to catch the first glimpse of the hero of -Santa Cruz, and salute him with a true English welcome--he, in his -silent cabin, in the midst of his lion-hearted comrades, now sobbing -like little children, yielded up his soul to God." - -The corpse was embalmed, and conveyed to Greenwich, where it lay in -state for some days. On the 4th of September, 1657, the Thames bore a -solemn funeral procession, which moved slowly, amid salvos of -artillery, to Westminster, where a new vault had been prepared in the -noble abbey. The tears of a nation made it hallowed ground. A prince, -of whom the epigram declares that, if he never said a foolish thing, -he never did a wise one--saw fit to disturb the hero's grave, drag out -the embalmed body, and cast it into a pit in the abbey-yard. One of -Charles Stuart's most witless performances! For Blake is not to be -confounded--though the Merry Monarch thought otherwise--with the -Iretons and Bradshaws who were similarly exhumed. The admiral was a -moderate in the closest, a patriot in the widest sense. - -In the chivalric disposition of the man, there was true affinity to -the best qualities of the Cavalier, mingled sometimes with a certain -grim humor, all his own. Many are the illustrations we might adduce of -this high-minded and generous temperament. For instance: meeting a -French frigate of forty guns in the Straits, and signaling for the -captain to come on board his flag-ship, the latter, considering the -visit one of friendship and ceremony, there being no _declared_ war -between the two nations--though the French conduct at Toulon had -determined England on measures of retaliation--readily complied with -Blake's summons; but was astounded on entering the admiral's cabin, at -being told he was a prisoner, and requested to give up his sword. No! -was the surprised but resolute Frenchman's reply. Blake felt that an -advantage had been gained by a misconception, and scorning to make a -brave officer its victim, he told his guest he might go back to his -ship, if he wished, and fight it out as long as he was able. The -captain, we are told, thanked him for his handsome offer, and retired. -After two hours' hard fighting, he struck his flag; like a true French -knight, he made a low bow, kissed his sword affectionately, and -delivered it to his conqueror. Again: when Blake captured the Dutch -herring-fleet off Bochness, consisting of 600 boats, instead of -destroying or appropriating them, he merely took a tithe of the whole -freight, in merciful consideration toward the poor families whose -entire capital and means of life it constituted. This "characteristic -act of clemency" was censured by many as Quixotic, and worse. But -"Blake took no trouble to justify his noble instincts against such -critics. His was indeed a happy fate: the only fault ever advanced by -friend or foe against his public life, was an excess of generosity -toward his vanquished enemies!" His sense of the comic is amusingly -evidenced by the story of his _ruse_ during a dearth in the same -siege. Tradition reports, that only one animal, a hog, was left alive -in the town, and that more than half starved. In the afternoon, Blake, -feeling that in their depression a laugh would do the defenders as -much good as a dinner, had the hog carried to all the posts and -whipped, so that its screams, heard in many places, might make the -enemy suppose that fresh supplies had somehow been obtained. - -The moral aspects of his character appear in this memoir in an -admirable light. If he did not stand so high as some others in public -notoriety, it was mainly because, to stand higher than he did, he must -plant his feet on a _bad_ eminence. His patriotism was as pure as -Cromwell's was selfish. Mr. Dixon, his biographer, alludes to the -strong points of contrast, as well as of resemblance between the two -men. Both, he says, were sincerely religious, undauntedly brave, -fertile in expedients, irresistible in action. Born in the same year, -they began and almost closed their lives at the same time. Both were -country gentlemen of moderate fortune; both were of middle age when -the revolution came. Without previous knowledge or professional -training, both attained to the highest honors of their respective -services. But there the parallel ends. Anxious only for the glory and -interest of his country, Blake took little or no care of his personal -aggrandizement. His contempt for money, his impatience with the mere -vanities of power, were supreme. Bribery he abhorred in all its -shapes. He was frank and open to a fault; his heart was ever in his -hand, and his mind ever on his lips. His honesty, modesty, generosity, -sincerity, and magnanimity were unimpeached. Cromwell's inferior moral -qualities made him distrust the great seaman; yet, now and then, as in -the case of the street tumult at Malaga, he was fain to express his -admiration of Robert Blake. The latter was wholly unversed in the -science of nepotism, and "happy family" compacts; for, although -desirous of aiding his relatives, he was jealous of the least offense -on their part, and never overlooked it. Several instances of this -disposition are on record. When his brother Samuel, in rash zeal for -the Commonwealth, ventured to exceed his duty, and was killed in a -fray which ensued, Blake was terribly shocked, but only said: "Sam had -no business there." Afterward, however, he shut himself up in his -room, and bewailed his loss in the words of Scripture: "Died Abner as -a fool dieth!" His brother Benjamin, again, to whom he was strongly -attached, falling under suspicion of neglect of duty, was instantly -broken, and sent on shore. "This rigid measure of justice against his -own flesh and blood, silenced every complaint, and the service gained -immeasurably in spirit, discipline, and confidence." Yet more touching -was the great admiral's inexorable treatment of his favorite brother -Humphrey, who, in a moment of extreme agitation, had failed in his -duty. The captains went to Blake in a body, and argued that Humphrey's -fault was a neglect rather than a breach of orders, and suggested his -being sent away to England till it was forgotten. But Blake was -outwardly unmoved, though inwardly his bowels did yearn over his -brother, and sternly said: "If none of you will accuse him, I must be -his accuser." Humphrey was dismissed from the service. It is affecting -to know how painfully Blake missed his familiar presence during his -sick and lonely passage homeward, when the hand of death was upon that -noble heart. To Humphrey he bequeathed the greater part of the -property which he left behind him. In the rare intervals of private -life which he enjoyed on shore, Blake also compels our sincere regard. -When released for awhile from political and professional duties, he -loved to run down to Bridgewater for a few days or weeks, and, as his -biographer says, with his chosen books, and one or two devout and -abstemious friends, to indulge in all the luxuries of seclusion. "He -was by nature self-absorbed and taciturn. His morning was usually -occupied with a long walk, during which he appeared to his simple -neighbors to be lost in profound thought, as if working out in his own -mind the details of one of his great battles, or busy with some -abstruse point of Puritan theology. If accompanied by one of his -brothers, or by some other intimate friend, he was still for the most -part silent. Always good-humored, and enjoying sarcasm when of a -grave, high class, he yet never talked from the loquacious instinct, -or encouraged others so to employ their time and talents in his -presence. Even his lively and rattling brother Humphrey, his almost -constant companion when on shore, caught, from long habit, the great -man's contemplative and self-communing gait and manner; and when his -friends rallied him on the subject in after-years, he used to say, -that he had caught the trick of silence while walking by the admiral's -side in his long morning musings on Knoll Hill. A plain dinner -satisfied his wants. Religious conversation, reading, and the details -of business, generally filled up the evening until supper-time; after -family prayers--always pronounced by the general himself--he would -invariably call for his cup of sack and a dry crust of bread, and -while he drank two or three horns of Canary, would smile and chat in -his own dry manner with his friends and domestics, asking minute -questions about their neighbors and acquaintance; or when scholars or -clergymen shared his simple repast, affecting a droll anxiety--rich -and pleasant in the conqueror of Tromp--to prove, by the aptness and -abundance of his quotations, that, in becoming an admiral, he had not -forfeited his claim to be considered a good classic." - -The care and interest with which he looked to the well-being of his -humblest followers, made him eminently popular in the fleet. He was -always ready to hear complaints, and to rectify grievances. When -wounded at the battle of Portland, and exhorted to go on shore for -repose and proper medical treatment, he refused to seek for himself -the relief which he had put in the way of his meanest comrade. Even at -the early period of his cruise against the Cavalier corsairs of -Kinsale, such was Blake's popularity, that numbers of men were -continually joining him from the enemy's fleet, although he offered -them less pay, and none of that license which they had enjoyed under -Prince Rupert's flag. They gloried in following a leader _sans peur et -sans reproche_--one with whose renown the whole country speedily -rang--the renown of a man who had revived the traditional glories of -the English navy, and proved that its meteor flag could "yet terrific -burn." - - - - -THE BRITISH MUSEUM AND ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. - -BY FREDRIKA BREMER. - - -London possesses two scenes of popular enjoyment on a great scale, in -its British Museum and its Zoological Gardens. In the former, the -glance is sent over the life of antiquity; in the latter, over that of -the present time in the kingdom of nature; and in both may the -Englishman enjoy a view of England's power and greatness, because it -is the spirit of England which has compelled Egypt and Greece to -remove hither their gods, their heroic statues: it is England whose -courageous sons at this present moment force their way into the -interior of Africa, that mysterious native land of miracles and of the -Leviathan; it is an Englishman who held in his hand snow from the -clefts of the remote Mountains of the Moon; it is England which has -aroused that ancient Nineveh from her thousands of years of sleep in -the desert; England, which has caused to arise from their graves, and -to stand forth beneath the sky of England, those witnesses of the life -and art of antiquity which are known under the name of the Nineveh -Marbles, those magnificent but enigmatical figures which are called -the Nineveh Bulls, in the immense wings of which one can not but -admire the fine artistic skill of the workmanship, and from the -beautiful human countenances of which glances Oriental despotism--with -eyes such as those with which King Ahasuerus might have gazed on the -beautiful Esther, when she sank fainting before the power of that -glance. They have an extraordinary expression--these countenances of -Nineveh, so magnificent, so strong, and at the same time, so joyous--a -something about them so valiant and so joyously commanding! It was an -expression which surprised me, and which I could not rightly -comprehend. It would be necessary for me to see them yet again before -I could fully satisfy myself whether this inexpressible, proudly -joyous glance is one of wisdom or of stupidity! I could almost fancy -it might be the latter, when I contemplate the expression of gentle -majesty in the head of the Grecian Jupiter. Nevertheless, whether it -be wisdom or stupidity--these representations of ancient Nineveh have -a real grandeur and originality about them. Were they then -representatives of life there? Was life there thus proud and joyous, -thus unconscious of trouble, care, or death, thus valiant, and without -all arrogance? Had it such eyes? Ah! and yet it has lain buried in the -sand of the desert, lain forgotten there many thousand years. And now, -when they once more look up with those large, magnificent eyes, they -discover another world around them, another Nineveh which can not -understand what they would say. Thus proudly might Nineveh have looked -when the prophet uttered above her his "woe!" Such a glance does not -accord with the life of earth. - -In comparison with these latest discovered but most ancient works of -art, the Egyptian statues fall infinitely short, bearing evidence of a -degraded, sensual humanity, and the same as regarded art. But neither -of these, nor of the Elgin marbles, nor of many other treasures of art -in the British Museum which testify at the same time to the greatness -of foregone ages, and to the power of the English world-conquering -intelligence, shall I say any thing, because time failed me rightly to -observe them, and the Nineveh marbles almost bewitched me by their -contemplation. - -It is to me difficult to imagine a greater pleasure than that of -wandering through these halls, or than by a visit to the Zoological -Garden which lies on one side of the Regent's Park. I would willingly -reside near this park for a time, that I might again and again wander -about in this world of animals from all zones, and listen to all that -they have to relate, ice-bears and lions, turtles and eagles, the -ourang-outang and the rhinoceros! The English Zoological Garden, -although less fortunate in its locality than the _Jardin des Plantes_ -in Paris, is much richer as regards animals. That which at this time -attracted hither most visitors was the new guest of the garden, a -so-called river-horse or hippopotamus, lately brought hither from -Upper Egypt, where it was taken when young. It was yet not full-grown, -and had here its own keeper--an Arab--its own house, its own court, -its own reservoir, to bathe and swim in! Thus it lived in a really -princely hippopotamus fashion. I saw his highness ascend out of his -bath in a particularly good-humor, and he looked to me like an -enormous--pig, with an enormously broad snout. He was very fat, -smooth, and gray, and awkward in his movements, like the elephant. -Long-necked giraffes walked about, feeding from wooden racks in the -court adjoining that of the hippopotamus, and glancing at us across -it. One can scarcely imagine a greater contrast than in these animals. - -The eagles sate upon crags placed in a row beneath a lofty transparent -arch of iron work, an arrangement which seemed to me excellent, and -which I hope seemed so to them, in case they could forget that they -were captives. Here they might breathe, here spread out their huge -wings, see the free expanse of heaven, and the sun, and build -habitations for themselves upon the rock. On the contrary, the lions, -leopards, and such-like noble beasts of the desert, seemed to me -particularly unhappy in their iron-grated stone vaults; and their -perpetual, uneasy walking backward and forward in their cages--I could -not see that without a feeling of distress. How beautiful they must be -in the desert, or amid tropical woods, or in the wild caverns of the -mountains, those grand, terrific beasts--how fearfully beautiful! One -day I saw these animals during their feeding time. Two men went round -with wooden vessels filled with pieces of raw meat; these were taken -up with a large iron-pronged fork, and put, or rather flung, through -the iron grating into the dens. It was terrible to see the savage joy, -the fury, with which the food was received and swallowed down by the -beasts. Three pieces of meat were thrown into one great vault which -was at that time empty, a door was then drawn up at the back of the -vault, and three huge yellow lions with shaggy manes rushed roaring -in, and at one spring each possessed himself of his piece of flesh. -One of the lions held his piece between his teeth for certainly a -quarter of an hour, merely growling and gloating over it in savage -joy, while his flashing eyes glared upon the spectators, and his tail -was swung from side to side with an expression of defiance. It was a -splendid, but a fearful sight. One of my friends was accustomed -sometimes to visit these animals in company with his little girl, a -beautiful child, with a complexion like milk and cherries. The sight -of her invariably produced great excitement in the lions. They seemed -evidently to show their love to her in a ravenous manner. - -The serpents were motionless in their glass house, and lay, -half-asleep, curled around the trunks of trees. In the evening by -lamp-light they become lively, and then, twisting about and flashing -forth their snaky splendors, they present a fine spectacle. The -snake-room, with its walls of glass, behind which the snakes live, -reminded me of the old northern myth of Nastrond, the roof of which -was woven of snakes' backs, the final home of the ungodly--an -unpleasant, but vigorous picture. The most disagreeable and the -ugliest of all the snakes, was that little snake which the beautiful -Queen Cleopatra, herself false as a serpent, placed at her breast; a -little gray, flat-headed snake which liked to bury itself in the sand. - -The monkey-family lead a sad life; stretch out their hands for nuts or -for bread, with mournful human gestures; contentious, beaten, -oppressed, thrust aside, frightening one another, the stronger the -weaker--mournfully human also. - -Sad, also, was the sight of an ourang-outang, spite of all its queer -grimaces, solitary in its house, for it evidently suffered ennui, was -restless, and would go out. It embraced its keeper and kissed him with -real human tenderness. The countenance, so human, yet without any -human intelligence, made a painful impression upon me; so did the -friendly tame creature here, longing for its fellows, and seeing -around it only human beings. Thou poor animal! Fain would I have seen -thee in the primeval woods of Africa, caressing thy wife in the clear -moonlight of the tropical night, sporting with her among the branches -of the trees, and sleeping upon them, rocked by the warm night wind. -There thy ugliness would have had a sort of picturesque beauty. After -the strange beast-man had climbed hither and thither along the iron -railing, seizing the bars with his hands, and feet which resembled -hands, and also with his teeth, he took a white woolen blanket, -wrapped it around him in a very complicated manner, and ended by -laying himself down as a human being might do, in his chilly, desolate -room. - -After this, all the more charming was the spectacle presented by the -water-fowl from every zone--Ducks, Swans, and Co., all quite at home -here, swimming in the clear waters, among little green islands on -which they had their little huts. It was most charmingly pretty and -complete. And the mother-duck with her little, lively golden-yellow -flock, swimming neck and heels after her, or seeking shelter under her -wings, is at all times one of the most lovely scenes of natural -life--resembling humanity in a beautiful manner. - -Even among the wild beasts I saw a beautiful human trait of maternal -affection. A female leopard had in her cage two young cubs, lively and -playful as puppies. When the man threw the flesh into her cage, she -drew herself back and let the young ones first seize upon the piece. - -Crows from all parts of the world here live together in one -neighborhood, and that the chattering and laughter was loud here did -not surprise me, neither that the European crows so well maintained -their place among their fellows. That which, however, astonished and -delighted me was, the sweet flute-like melodious tones of the -Australian crow. In the presence of this crow from Paradise--for -originally it must have come therefrom--it seemed to me that all the -other crows ought to have kept silence with their senseless -chattering. But they were nothing but crows, and they liked better to -hear themselves. - -Parrots from all lands lived and quarreled together in a large room, -and they there made such a loud screaming, that in order to stand it -out one must have been one of their own relations. Better be among the -silent, dejected, stealthy, hissing, shining snakes, than in company -with parrots! The former might kill the body, but the latter the soul. - -Twilight came on, and drove me out of the Zoological Garden each time -I was there, and before I had seen all its treasures. Would that I -might return there yet a third time and remain still longer! - - - - -A TERRIBLY STRANGE BED. - - -The most difficult likeness I ever had to take, not even excepting my -first attempt in the art of Portrait-painting, was a likeness of a -gentleman named Faulkner. As far as drawing and coloring went, I had -no particular fault to find with my picture; it was the _expression_ -of the sitter which I had failed in rendering--a failure quite as much -his fault as mine. Mr. Faulkner, like many other persons by whom I -have been employed, took it into his head that he must assume an -expression, because he was sitting for his likeness; and, in -consequence, contrived to look as unlike himself as possible, while I -was painting him. I had tried to divert his attention from his own -face, by talking with him on all sorts of topics. We had both traveled -a great deal, and felt interested alike in many subjects connected -with our wanderings over the same countries. Occasionally, while we -were discussing our traveling experiences, the unlucky set-look left -his countenance, and I began to work to some purpose; but it was -always disastrously sure to return again, before I had made any great -progress--or, in other words, just at the very time when I was most -anxious that it should not re-appear. The obstacle thus thrown in the -way of the satisfactory completion of my portrait, was the more to be -deplored, because Mr. Faulkner's natural expression was a very -remarkable one. I am not an author, so I can not describe it. I -ultimately succeeded in painting it, however; and this was the way in -which I achieved my success: - -On the morning when my sitter was coming to me for the fourth time, I -was looking at his portrait in no very agreeable mood--looking at it, -in fact, with the disheartening conviction that the picture would be a -perfect failure, unless the expression in the face represented were -thoroughly altered and improved from nature. The only method of -accomplishing this successfully, was to make Mr. Faulkner, somehow, -insensibly forget that he was sitting for his picture. What topic -could I lead him to talk on, which would entirely engross his -attention while I was at work on his likeness?--I was still puzzling -my brains to no purpose on this subject, when Mr. Faulkner entered my -studio; and, shortly afterward, an accidental circumstance gained for -me the very object which my own ingenuity had proved unequal to -compass. - -While I was "setting" my pallet, my sitter amused himself by turning -over some portfolios. He happened to select one for special notice, -which contained several sketches that I had made in the streets of -Paris. He turned over the first five views rapidly enough; but when he -came to the sixth, I saw his face flush directly; and observed that he -took the drawing out of the portfolio, carried it to the window, and -remained silently absorbed in the contemplation of it for full five -minutes. After that, he turned round to me; and asked, very anxiously, -if I had any objection to part with that sketch. - -It was the least interesting drawing of the series--merely a view in -one of the streets running by the backs of the houses in the Palais -Royal. Some four or five of these houses were comprised in the view, -which was of no particular use to me in any way; and which was too -valueless, as a work of Art, for me to think of _selling_ it to my -kind patron. I begged his acceptance of it, at once. He thanked me -quite warmly; and then, seeing that I looked a little surprised at the -odd selection he had made from my sketches, laughingly asked me if I -could guess why he had been so anxious to become possessed of the view -which I had given him? - -"Probably"--I answered--"there is some remarkable historical -association connected with that street at the back of the Palais -Royal, of which I am ignorant." - -"No"--said Mr. Faulkner--"at least, none that _I_ know of. The only -association connected with the place in _my_ mind, is a purely -personal association. Look at this house in your drawing--the house -with the water-pipe running down it from top to bottom. I once passed -a night there--a night I shall never forget to the day of my death. I -have had some awkward traveling adventures in my time; but _that_ -adventure--! Well, well! suppose we begin the sitting. I make but a -bad return for your kindness in giving me the sketch, by thus wasting -your time in mere talk." - -He had not long occupied the sitter's chair (looking pale and -thoughtful), when he returned--involuntarily, as it seemed--to the -subject of the house in the back street. Without, I hope, showing any -undue curiosity, I contrived to let him see that I felt a deep -interest in every thing he now said. After two or three preliminary -hesitations, he at last, to my great joy, fairly started on the -narrative of his adventure. In the interest of his subject he soon -completely forgot that he was sitting for his portrait--the very -expression that I wanted, came over his face--my picture proceeded -toward completion, in the right direction, and to the best purpose. At -every fresh touch, I felt more and more certain that I was now getting -the better of my grand difficulty; and I enjoyed the additional -gratification of having my work lightened by the recital of a true -story, which possessed, in my estimation, all the excitement of the -most exciting romance. - -This, as nearly as I can recollect, is, word for word, how Mr. -Faulkner told me the story:-- - -Shortly before the period when gambling-houses were suppressed by the -French Government, I happened to be staying at Paris with an English -friend. We were both young men then, and lived, I am afraid, a very -dissipated life, in the very dissipated city of our sojourn. One -night, we were idling about the neighborhood of the Palais Royal, -doubtful to what amusement we should next betake ourselves. My friend -proposed a visit to Frascati's; but his suggestion was not to my -taste. I knew Frascati's, as the French saying is, by heart; had lost -and won plenty of five-franc pieces there, "merely for the fun of the -thing," until it was "fun" no longer; and was thoroughly tired, in -fact, of all the ghastly respectabilities of such a social anomaly as -a respectable gambling-house. "For Heaven's sake"--said I to my -friend--"let us go somewhere where we can see a little genuine, -blackguard, poverty-stricken gaming, with no false gingerbread glitter -thrown over it at all. Let us get away from fashionable Frascati's, to -a house where they don't mind letting in a man with a ragged coat, or -a man with no coat, ragged or otherwise."--"Very well," said my -friend, "we needn't go out of the Palais Royal to find the sort of -company you want. Here's the place, just before us; as blackguard a -place, by all report, as you could possibly wish to see." In another -minute we arrived at the door, and entered the house, the back of -which you have drawn in your sketch. - -When we got up-stairs, and had left our hats and sticks with the -doorkeeper, we were admitted into the chief gambling-room. We did not -find many people assembled there. But, few as the men were who looked -up at us on our entrance, they were all types--miserable types--of -their respective classes. We had come to see blackguards; but these -men were something worse. There is a comic side, more or less -appreciable, in all blackguardism--here, there was nothing but -tragedy; mute, weird tragedy. The quiet in the room was horrible. The -thin, haggard, long-haired young man, whose sunken eyes fiercely -watched the turning up of the cards, never spoke; the flabby, -fat-faced, pimply player, who pricked his piece of pasteboard -perseveringly, to register how often black won, and how often -red--never spoke; the dirty, wrinkled old man, with the vulture eyes, -and the darned great coat, who had lost his last _sous_, and still -looked on desperately, after he could play no longer--never spoke. -Even the voice of the croupier sounded as if it were strangely dulled -and thickened in the atmosphere of the room. I had entered the place -to laugh; I felt that if I stood quietly looking on much longer, I -should be more likely to weep. So, to excite myself out of the -depression of spirits which was fast stealing over me, I unfortunately -went to the table, and began to play. Still more unfortunately, as the -event will show, I won--won prodigiously; won incredibly; won at such -a rate, that the regular players at the table crowded round me; and -staring at my stakes with hungry, superstitious eyes, whispered to one -another that the English stranger was going to break the bank. - -The game was _Rouge et Noir_. I had played at it in every city in -Europe, without, however, the care or the wish to study the Theory of -Chances--that philosopher's stone of all gamblers! And a gambler, in -the strict sense of the word, I had never been. I was heart-whole from -the corroding passion for play. My gaming was a mere idle amusement. I -never resorted to it by necessity, because I never knew what it was to -want money. I never practiced it so incessantly as to lose more than I -could afford, or to gain more than I could coolly pocket, without -being thrown off my balance by my good luck. In short, I had hitherto -frequented gambling-tables--just as I frequented ball-rooms and -opera-houses--because they amused me, and because I had nothing better -to do with my leisure hours. - -But, on this occasion, it was very different--now, for the first time -in my life, I felt what the passion for play really was. My success -first bewildered, and then, in the most literal meaning of the word, -intoxicated me. Incredible as it may appear, it is nevertheless true, -that I only lost, when I attempted to estimate chances, and played -according to previous calculation. If I left every thing to luck, and -staked without any care or consideration, I was sure to win--to win in -the face of every recognized probability in favor of the bank. At -first, some of the men present ventured their money safely enough on -my color; but I speedily increased my stakes to sums which they dared -not risk. One after another they left off playing, and breathlessly -looked on at my game. Still, time after time, I staked higher and -higher; and still won. The excitement in the room rose to fever pitch. -The silence was interrupted, by a deep, muttered chorus of oaths and -exclamations in different languages, every time the gold was shoveled -across to my side of the table--even the imperturbable croupier dashed -his rake on the floor in a (French) fury of astonishment at my -success. But one man present preserved his self-possession; and that -man was my friend. He came to my side, and whispering in English, -begged me to leave the place, satisfied with what I had already -gained. I must do him the justice to say, that he repeated his -warnings and entreaties several times; and only left me and went away, -after I had rejected his advice (I was to all intents and purposes -gambling-drunk) in terms which rendered it impossible for him to -address me again that night. - -Shortly after he had gone, a hoarse voice behind me cried: "Permit me, -my dear sir!--permit me to restore to their proper place two Napoleons -which you have dropped. Wonderful luck, sir!--I pledge you my word of -honor as an old soldier, in the course of my long experience in this -sort of thing, I never saw such luck as yours!--never! Go on, -sir--_Sacré mille bombes!_ Go on boldly, and break the bank!" - -I turned round and saw, nodding and smiling at me with inveterate -civility, a tall man, dressed in a frogged and braided surtout. If I -had been in my senses, I should have considered him, personally, as -being rather a suspicious specimen of an old soldier. He had goggling, -bloodshot eyes, mangy mustaches, and a broken nose. His voice betrayed -a barrack-room intonation of the worst order, and he had the dirtiest -pair of hands I ever saw--even in France. These little personal -peculiarities exercised, however, no repelling influence on me. In the -mad excitement, the reckless triumph of that moment, I was ready to -"fraternize" with any body who encouraged me in my game. I accepted -the old soldier's offered pinch of snuff; clapped him on the back, and -swore he was the honestest fellow in the world; the most glorious -relic of the Grand Army that I had ever met with. "Go on!" cried my -military friend, snapping his fingers in ecstasy--"Go on, and win! -Break the bank--_Mille tonnerres!_ my gallant English comrade, break -the bank!" - -And I _did_ go on--went on at such a rate, that in another quarter of -an hour the croupier called out: "Gentlemen! the bank has discontinued -for to-night." All the notes, and all the gold in that "bank," now lay -in a heap under my hands; the whole floating capital of the -gambling-house was waiting to pour into my pockets! - -"Tie up the money in your pocket-handkerchief, my worthy sir," said -the old soldier, as I wildly plunged my hands into my heap of gold. -"Tie it up, as we used to tie up a bit of dinner in the Grand Army; -your winnings are too heavy for any breeches pockets that ever were -sewed. There! that's it!--shovel them in, notes and all! _Credié!_ -what luck!--Stop! another Napoleon on the floor! _Ah! sacré petit -polisson de Napoleon!_ have I found thee at last? Now, then, sir--two -tight double knots each way with your honorable permission, and the -money's safe. Feel it! feel it, fortunate sir! hard and round as a -cannon ball--_Ah, bah!_ if they had only fired such cannon balls at us -at Austerlitz--_nom d'une pipe!_ if they only had! And now, as an -ancient grenadier, as an ex-brave of the French army, what remains for -me to do? I ask what? Simply this: to entreat my valued English friend -to drink a bottle of champagne with me, and toast the goddess Fortune -in foaming goblets before we part!" - -Excellent ex-brave! Convivial ancient grenadier! Champagne by all -means! An English cheer for an old soldier! Hurrah! hurrah! Another -English cheer for the goddess Fortune! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! - -"Bravo! the Englishman; the amiable, gracious Englishman, in whose -veins circulates the vivacious blood of France! Another glass? _Ah, -bah!_--the bottle is empty! Never mind! _Vive le vin!_ I, the old -soldier, order another bottle, and half a pound of _bon-bons_ with -it!" - -No, no, ex-brave; never--ancient grenadier! _Your_ bottle last time; -_my_ bottle this. Behold it! Toast away! The French Army!--the great -Napoleon!--the present company! the croupier! the honest croupier's -wife and daughters--if he has any! the Ladies generally! Every body in -the world! - -By the time the second bottle of champagne was emptied, I felt as if I -had been drinking liquid fire--my brain seemed all a flame. No excess -in wine had ever had this effect on me before in my life. Was it the -result of a stimulant acting upon my system when I was in a -highly-excited state? Was my stomach in a particularly disordered -condition? Or was the champagne particularly strong? - -"Ex-brave of the French Army!" cried I, in a mad state of -exhilaration. "_I_ am on fire! how are _you_? You have set me on fire! -Do you hear; my hero of Austerlitz? Let us have a third bottle of -champagne to put the flame out!" The old soldier wagged his head, -rolled his goggle-eyes, until I expected to see them slip out of their -sockets; placed his dirty forefinger by the side of his broken nose; -solemnly ejaculated "Coffee!" and immediately ran off into an inner -room. - -The word pronounced by the eccentric veteran, seemed to have a magical -effect on the rest of the company present. With one accord they all -rose to depart. Probably they had expected to profit by my -intoxication; but finding that my new friend was benevolently bent on -preventing me from getting dead drunk, had now abandoned all hope of -thriving pleasantly on my winnings. Whatever their motive might be, at -any rate they went away in a body. When the old soldier returned, and -sat down again opposite to me at the table, we had the room to -ourselves. I could see the croupier, in a sort of vestibule which -opened out of it, eating his supper in solitude. The silence was now -deeper than ever. - -A sudden change, too, had come over the "ex-brave." He assumed a -portentously solemn look; and when he spoke to me again, his speech -was ornamented by no oaths, enforced by no finger-snapping, enlivened -by no apostrophes, or exclamations. - -"Listen, my dear sir," said he, in mysteriously confidential -tones--"listen to an old soldier's advice. I have been to the mistress -of the house (a very charming woman, with a genius for cookery!) to -impress on her the necessity of making us some particularly strong and -good coffee. You must drink this coffee in order to get rid of your -little amiable exaltation of spirits, before you think of going -home--you _must_, my good and gracious friend! With all that money to -take home to-night, it is a sacred duty to yourself to have your wits -about you. You are known to be a winner to an enormous extent, by -several gentlemen present to-night, who, in a certain point of view, -are very worthy and excellent fellows; but they are mortal men, my -dear sir, and they have their amiable weaknesses! Need I say more? Ah, -no, no! you understand me! Now, this is what you must do--send for a -cabriolet when you feel quite well again--draw up all the windows when -you get into it--and tell the driver to take you home only through the -large and well-lighted thoroughfares. Do this; and you and your money -will be safe. Do this; and to-morrow you will thank an old soldier for -giving you a word of honest advice." - -Just as the ex-brave ended his oration in very lachrymose tones, the -coffee came in, ready poured out in two cups. My attentive friend -handed me one of the cups, with a bow. I was parched with thirst, and -drank it off at a draught. Almost instantly afterward, I was seized -with a fit of giddiness, and felt more completely intoxicated than -ever. The room whirled round and round furiously; the old soldier -seemed to be regularly bobbing up and down before me, like the piston -of a steam-engine. I was half-deafened by a violent singing in my -ears; a feeling of utter bewilderment, helplessness, idiotcy, overcame -me. I rose from my chair, holding on by the table to keep my balance; -and stammered out, that I felt dreadfully unwell--so unwell, that I -did not know how I was to get home. - -"My dear friend," answered the old soldier; and even his voice seemed -to be bobbing up and down, as he spoke--"My dear friend, it would be -madness to go home, in _your_ state. You would be sure to lose your -money; you might be robbed and murdered with the greatest ease. _I_ am -going to sleep here: do _you_ sleep here, too--they make up capital -beds in this house--take one; sleep off the effects of the wine, and -go home safely with your winnings, to-morrow--to-morrow, in broad -daylight." - -I had no power of thinking, no feeling of any kind, but the feeling -that I must lie down somewhere, immediately, and fall off into a cool, -refreshing, comfortable sleep. So I agreed eagerly to the proposal -about the bed, and took the offered arms of the old soldier and the -croupier--the latter having been summoned to show the way. They led me -along some passages and up a short flight of stairs into the bedroom -which I was to occupy. The ex-brave shook me warmly by the hand; -proposed that we should breakfast together the next morning; and then, -followed by the croupier, left me for the night. - -I ran to the wash-hand stand; drank some of the water in my jug; -poured the rest out, and plunged my face into it--then sat down in a -chair, and tried to compose myself. I soon felt better. The change for -my lungs, from the fetid atmosphere of the gambling-room to the cool -air of the apartment I now occupied; the almost equally refreshing -change for my eyes, from the glaring gas-lights of the "Salon" to the -dim, quiet flicker of one bedroom candle; aided wonderfully the -restorative effects of cold water. The giddiness left me, and I began -to feel a little like a reasonable being again. My first thought was -of the risk of sleeping all night in a gambling-house; my second, of -the still greater risk of trying to get out after the house was -closed, and of going home alone at night, through the streets of -Paris, with a large sum of money about me. I had slept in worse places -than this, in the course of my travels; so I determined to lock, bolt, -and barricade my door. - -Accordingly, I secured myself against all intrusion; looked under the -bed, and into the cupboard; tried the fastening of the window; and -then, satisfied that I had taken every proper precaution, pulled off -my upper clothing, put my light, which was a dim one, on the hearth -among a feathery litter of wood ashes; and got into bed, with the -handkerchief full of money under my pillow. - -I soon felt, not only that I could not go to sleep, but that I could -not even close my eyes. I was wide awake, and in a high fever. Every -nerve in my body trembled--every one of my senses seemed to be -preternaturally sharpened. I tossed, and rolled, and tried every kind -of position, and perseveringly sought out the cold corners of the bed, -and all to no purpose. Now, I thrust my arms over the clothes; now, I -poked them under the clothes; now, I violently shot my legs straight -out, down to the bottom of the bed; now, I convulsively coiled them up -as near my chin as they would go; now, I shook out my crumpled pillow, -changed it to the cool side, patted it flat, and lay down quietly on -my back; now, I fiercely doubled it in two, set it up on end, thrust -it against the board of the bed, and tried a sitting posture. Every -effort was in vain; I groaned with vexation, as I felt that I was in -for a sleepless night. - -What could I do? I had no book to read. And yet, unless I found out -some method of diverting my mind, I felt certain that I was in the -condition to imagine all sorts of horrors; to rack my brains with -forebodings of every possible and impossible danger; in short, to pass -the night in suffering all conceivable varieties of nervous terror. I -raised myself on my elbow, and looked about the room--which was -brightened by a lovely moonlight pouring straight through the -window--to see if it contained any pictures or ornaments, that I could -at all clearly distinguish. While my eyes wandered from wall to wall, -a remembrance of Le Maistre's delightful little book, "Voyage autour -de ma Chambre," occurred to me. I resolved to imitate the French -author, and find occupation and amusement enough to relieve the tedium -of my wakefulness by making a mental inventory of every article of -furniture I could see, and by following up to their sources the -multitude of associations which even a chair, a table, or a wash-hand -stand, may be made to call forth. - -In the nervous, unsettled state of my mind at that moment, I found it -much easier to make my proposed inventory, than to make my proposed -reflections, and soon gave up all hope of thinking in Le Maistre's -fanciful track--or, indeed, thinking at all. I looked about the room -at the different articles of furniture, and did nothing more. There -was, first, the bed I was lying in--a four-post bed, of all things in -the world to meet with in Paris!--yes, a thorough clumsy British -four-poster, with the regular top lined with chintz--the regular -fringed valance all round--the regular stifling, unwholesome curtains, -which I remembered having mechanically drawn back against the posts, -without particularly noticing the bed when I first got into the room. -Then, there was the marble-topped wash-hand stand, from which the -water I had spilt, in my hurry to pour it out, was still dripping, -slowly and more slowly, on to the brick floor. Then, two small chairs, -with my coat, waistcoat, and trowsers flung on them. Then, a large -elbow chair covered with dirty-white dimity: with my cravat and -shirt-collar thrown over the back. Then, a chest of drawers, with two -of the brass handles off, and a tawdry, broken china inkstand placed -on it by way of ornament for the top. Then, the dressing-table, -adorned by a very small looking-glass, and a very large pincushion. -Then, the window--an unusually large window. Then, a dark old picture, -which the feeble candle dimly showed me. It was the picture of a -fellow in a high Spanish hat, crowned with a plume of towering -feathers. A swarthy sinister ruffian, looking upward; shading his eyes -with his hand, and looking intently upward--it might be at some tall -gallows at which he was going to be hanged. At any rate he had the -appearance of thoroughly deserving it. - -This picture put a kind of constraint upon me to look upward, too--at -the top of the bed. It was a gloomy and not an interesting object, and -I looked back at the picture. I counted the feathers in the man's hat; -they stood out in relief; three, white; two, green. I observed the -crown of his hat, which was of a conical shape, according to the -fashion supposed to have been favored by Guido Fawkes. I wondered what -he was looking up at. It couldn't be at the stars; such a desperado -was neither astrologer nor astronomer. It must be at the high -gallows, and he was going to be hanged presently. Would the -executioner come into possession of his conical crowned hat, and plume -of feathers? I counted the feathers again; three, white; two, green. - -While I still lingered over this very improving and intellectual -employment, my thoughts insensibly began to wander. The moonlight -shining into the room reminded me of a certain moonlight night in -England--the night after a pic-nic party in a Welsh valley. Every -incident of the drive homeward through lovely scenery, which the -moonlight made lovelier than ever, came back to my remembrance, though -I had never given the pic-nic a thought for years; though, if I had -_tried_ to recollect it, I could certainly have recalled little or -nothing of that scene long past. Of all the wonderful faculties that -help to tell us we are immortal, which speaks the sublime truth more -eloquently than memory? Here was I, in a strange house of the most -suspicious character, in a situation of uncertainty, and even of -peril, which might seem to make the cool exercise of my recollection -almost out of the question; nevertheless remembering, quite -involuntarily, places, people, conversations, minute circumstances of -every kind, which I had thought forgotten forever, which I could not -possibly have recalled at will, even under the most favorable -auspices. And what cause had produced in a moment the whole of this -strange, complicated, mysterious effect? Nothing but some rays of -moonlight shining in at my bedroom window. - -I was still thinking of the pic-nic; of our merriment on the drive -home; of the sentimental young lady, who _would_ quote Childe Harold -because it was moonlight. I was absorbed by these past scenes and past -amusements, when, in an instant, the thread on which my memories hung, -snapped asunder; my attention immediately came back to present things -more vividly than ever, and I found myself, I neither knew why or -wherefore, looking hard at the picture again. - -Looking for what? Good God, the man had pulled his hat down on his -brows!--No! The hat itself was gone! Where was the conical crown? -Where the feathers; three, white; two green? Not there! In place of -the hat and feathers, what dusky object was it that now hid his -forehead--his eyes--his shading hand? Was the bed moving? - -I turned on my back, and looked up. Was I mad? drunk? dreaming? giddy -again? or, was the top of the bed really moving down--sinking slowly, -regularly, silently, horribly, right down throughout the whole of its -length and breadth--right down upon me, as I lay underneath? - -My blood seemed to stand still; a deadly paralyzing coldness stole all -over me, as I turned my head round on the pillow, and determined to -test whether the bed-top was really moving or not, by keeping my eye -on the man in the picture. The next look in that direction was -enough. The dull, black, frowsy outline of the valance above me was -within an inch of being parallel with his waist. I still looked -breathlessly. And steadily, and slowly--very slowly--I saw the figure, -and the line of frame below the figure, vanish, as the valance moved -down before it. - -I am, constitutionally, any thing but timid. I have been, on more than -one occasion, in peril of my life, and have not lost my -self-possession for an instant; but, when the conviction first settled -on my mind that the bed-top was really moving, was steadily and -continuously sinking down upon me, I looked up for one awful minute, -or more, shuddering, helpless, panic-stricken, beneath the hideous -machinery for murder, which was advancing closer and closer to -suffocate me where I lay. - -Then the instinct of self-preservation came, and nerved me to save my -life, while there was yet time. I got out of bed very quietly, and -quickly dressed myself again in my upper clothing. The candle, fully -spent, went out. I sat down in the arm-chair that stood near, and -watched the bed-top slowly descending. I was literally spell-bound by -it. If I had heard footsteps behind me, I could not have turned round; -if a means of escape had been miraculously provided for me, I could -not have moved to take advantage of it. The whole life in me, was, at -that moment, concentrated in my eyes. - -It descended--the whole canopy, with the fringe round it, came -down--down--close down; so close that there was not room now to -squeeze my finger between the bed-top and the bed. I felt at the -sides, and discovered that what had appeared to me, from beneath, to -be the ordinary light canopy of a four-post bed was in reality a -thick, broad mattress, the substance of which was concealed by the -valance and its fringe. I looked up, and saw the four posts rising -hideously bare. In the middle of the bed-top was a huge wooden screw -that had evidently worked it down through a hole in the ceiling, just -as ordinary presses are worked down on the substance selected for -compression. The frightful apparatus moved without making the faintest -noise. There had been no creaking as it came down; there was now not -the faintest sound from the room above. Amid a dead and awful silence -I beheld before me--in the nineteenth century, and in the civilized -capital of France--such a machine for secret murder by suffocation, as -might have existed in the worst days of the Inquisition, in the lonely -Inns among the Hartz Mountains, in the mysterious tribunals of -Westphalia! Still, as I looked on it, I could not move; I could hardly -breathe; but I began to recover the power of thinking; and, in a -moment, I discovered the murderous conspiracy framed against me, in -all its horror. - -My cup of coffee had been drugged, and drugged too strongly. I had -been saved from being smothered, by having taken an over-dose of some -narcotic. How I had chafed and fretted at the fever fit which had -preserved my life by keeping me awake! How recklessly I had confided -myself to the two wretches who had led me into this room, determined, -for the sake of my winnings, to kill me in my sleep, by the surest and -most horrible contrivance for secretly accomplishing my destruction! -How many men, winners like me, had slept, as I had proposed to sleep, -in that bed; and never been seen or heard of more! I shuddered as I -thought of it. - -But, erelong, all thought was again suspended by the sight of the -murderous canopy moving once more. After it had remained on the -bed--as nearly as I could guess--about ten minutes, it began to move -up again. The villains, who worked it from above, evidently believed -that their purpose was now accomplished. Slowly and silently, as it -had descended, that horrible bed-top rose toward its former place. -When it reached the upper extremities of the four posts, it reached -the ceiling too. Neither hole nor screw could be seen--the bed became -in appearance, an ordinary bed again, the canopy, an ordinary canopy, -even to the most suspicious eyes. - -Now, for the first time, I was able to move, to rise from my chair, to -consider of how I should escape. If I betrayed by the smallest noise, -that the attempt to suffocate me had failed, I was certain to be -murdered. Had I made any noise already? I listened intently, looking -toward the door. No! no footsteps in the passage outside; no sound of -a tread, light or heavy, in the room above--absolute silence every -where. Besides locking and bolting my door, I had moved an old wooden -chest against it, which I had found under the bed. To remove this -chest (my blood ran cold, as I thought what its contents _might_ be!) -without making some disturbance, was impossible; and, moreover, to -think of escaping through the house, now barred-up for the night, was -sheer insanity. Only one chance was left me--the window. I stole to it -on tiptoe. - -My bedroom was on the first floor, above an _entresol_, and looked -into the back street, which you had sketched in your view. I raised my -hand to open the window, knowing that on that action hung, by the -merest hair's-breadth, my chance of safety. They keep vigilant watch -in a House of Murder--if any part of the frame cracked, if the hinge -creaked, I was, perhaps, a lost man! It must have occupied me at least -five minutes, reckoning by time--five _hours_, reckoning by -suspense--to open that window. I succeeded in doing it silently, in -doing it with all the dexterity of a house-breaker; and then looked -down into the street. To leap the distance beneath me, would be almost -certain destruction! Next, I looked round at the sides of the house. -Down the left side, ran the thick water-pipe which you have drawn--it -passed close by the outer edge of the window. The moment I saw the -pipe, I knew I was saved; my breath came and went freely for the first -time since I had seen the canopy of the bed moving down upon me! - -To some men the means of escape which I had discovered might have -seemed difficult and dangerous enough--to _me_, the prospect of -slipping down the pipe into the street did not suggest even a thought -of peril. I had always been accustomed, by the practice of gymnastics, -to keep up my schoolboy powers as a daring and expert climber; and -knew that my head, hands, and feet would serve me faithfully in any -hazards of ascent or descent. I had already got one leg over the -window-sill, when I remembered the handkerchief, filled with money, -under my pillow. I could well have afforded to leave it behind me; but -I was revengefully determined that the miscreants of the -gambling-house should miss their plunder as well as their victim. So I -went back to the bed, and tied the heavy handkerchief at my back by my -cravat. Just as I had made it tight, and fixed it in a comfortable -place, I thought I heard a sound of breathing outside the door. The -chill feeling of horror ran through me again as I listened. No! dead -silence still in the passage--I had only heard the night air blowing -softly into the room. The next moment I was on the window-sill--and -the next, I had a firm grip on the water-pipe with my hands and knees. - -I slid down into the street easily and quietly, as I thought I should, -and immediately set off, at the top of my speed, to a branch -"Prefecture" of Police, which I knew was situated in the immediate -neighborhood. A "Sub-Prefect" and several picked men among his -subordinates, happened to be up, maturing, I believe, some scheme for -discovering the perpetrator of a mysterious murder, which all Paris -was talking of just then. When I began my story, in a breathless hurry -and in very bad French, I could see that the Sub-Prefect suspected me -of being a drunken Englishman, who had robbed somebody, but he soon -altered his opinion, as I went on; and before I had any thing like -concluded, he shoved all the papers before him into a drawer, put on -his hat, supplied me with another (for I was bare-headed), ordered a -file of soldiers, desired his expert followers to get ready all sorts -of tools for breaking open doors and ripping up brick-flooring, and -took my arm, in the most friendly and familiar manner possible, to -lead me with him out of the house. I will venture to say, that when -the Sub-Prefect was a little boy, and was taken for the first time to -the Play, he was not half as much pleased as he was now at the job in -prospect for him at the "Gambling-House!" - -Away we went through the streets, the Sub-Prefect cross-examining and -congratulating me in the same breath, as we marched at the head of our -formidable _posse comitatus_. Sentinels were placed at the back and -front of the gambling-house the moment we got to it; a tremendous -battery of knocks were directed against the door; a light appeared at -a window; I waited to conceal myself behind the police--then came more -knocks, and a cry of "Open in the name of the law!" At that terrible -summons, bolts and locks gave way before an invisible hand, and the -moment after, the Sub-Prefect was in the passage, confronting a -waiter, half-dressed and ghastly pale. This was the short dialogue -which immediately took place: - -"We want to see the Englishman who is sleeping in this house?" - -"He went away hours ago." - -"He did no such thing. His friend went away; _he_ remained. Show us to -his bedroom!" - -"I swear to you, Monsieur le Sous-Préfet, he is not here! he--" - -"I swear to you, Monsieur le Garçon, he is. He slept here--he didn't -find your bed comfortable--he came to us to complain of it--here he -is, among my men--and here am I, ready to look for a flea or two in -his bedstead. Picard! (calling to one of the subordinates, and -pointing to the waiter) collar that man, and tie his hands behind him. -Now, then, gentlemen, let us walk up-stairs!" - -Every man and woman in the house was secured--the "Old Soldier," the -first. Then I identified the bed in which I had slept; and then we -went into the room above. No object that was at all extraordinary -appeared in any part of it. The Sub-Prefect looked round the place, -commanded every body to be silent, stamped twice on the floor, called -for a candle, looked attentively at the spot he had stamped on, and -ordered the flooring there to be carefully taken up. This was done in -no time. Lights were produced, and we saw a deep raftered cavity -between the floor of this room and the ceiling of the room beneath. -Through this cavity there ran perpendicularly a sort of case of iron, -thickly greased; and inside the case appeared the screw, which -communicated with the bed-top below. Extra lengths of screw, freshly -oiled--levers covered with felt--all the complete upper works of a -heavy press, constructed with infernal ingenuity so as to join the -fixtures below--and, when taken to pieces again, to go into the -smallest possible compass, were next discovered, and pulled out on the -floor. After some little difficulty, the Sub-Prefect succeeded in -putting the machinery together, and, leaving his men to work it, -descended with me to the bedroom. The smothering canopy was then -lowered, but not so noiselessly as I had seen it lowered. When I -mentioned this to the Sub-Prefect, his answer, simple as it was, had a -terrible significance. "My men," said he, "are working down the -bed-top for the first time--the men whose money you won, were in -better practice." - -We left the house in the sole possession of two police agents--every -one of the inmates being removed to prison on the spot, The -Sub-Prefect, after taking down my "_procès-verbal_" in his office, -returned with me to my hotel to get my passport. "Do you think," I -asked, as I gave it to him, "that any men have really been smothered -in that bed, as they tried to smother _me_?" - -"I have seen dozens of drowned men laid out at the Morgue," answered -the Sub-Prefect, "in whose pocket-books were found letters, stating -that they had committed suicide in the Seine, because they had lost -every thing at the gaming-table. Do I know how many of those men -entered the same gambling-house that _you_ entered? won as _you_ won? -took that bed as _you_ took it? slept in it? were smothered in it? and -were privately thrown into the river, with a letter of explanation -written by the murderers and placed in their pocket-books? No man can -say how many, or how few, have suffered the fate from which you have -escaped. The people of the gambling-house kept their bedstead -machinery a secret from _us_--even from the police! The dead kept the -rest of the secret for them. Good-night, or rather good-morning, -Monsieur Faulkner! Be at my office again at nine o'clock--in the mean -time, _au revoir_!" - -The rest of my story is soon told. I was examined, and re-examined; -the gambling-house was strictly searched all through, from top to -bottom; the prisoners were separately interrogated; and two of the -less guilty among them made a confession. _I_ discovered that the Old -Soldier was the master of the gambling-house--_justice_ discovered -that he had been drummed out of the army, as a vagabond, years ago; -that he had been guilty of all sorts of villainies since; that he was -in possession of stolen property, which the owners identified; and -that he, the croupier, another accomplice, and the woman who had made -my cup of coffee, were all in the secret of the bedstead. There -appeared some reason to doubt whether the inferior persons attached to -the house knew any thing of the suffocating machinery; and they -received the benefit of that doubt, by being treated simply as thieves -and vagabonds. As for the Old Soldier and his two head-myrmidons, they -went to the galleys; the woman who had drugged my coffee was -imprisoned for I forget how many years; the regular attendants at the -gambling-house were considered "suspicious," and placed under -"surveillance"; and I became, for one whole week (which is a long -time), the head "lion" in Parisian society. My adventure was -dramatized by three illustrious playmakers, but never saw theatrical -daylight; for the censorship forbade the introduction on the stage of -a correct copy of the gambling-house bedstead. - -Two good results were produced by my adventure, which any censorship -must have approved. In the first place, it helped to justify the -government in forthwith carrying out their determination to put down -all gambling-houses; in the second place, it cured me of ever again -trying "Rouge et Noir" as an amusement. The sight of a green cloth, -with packs of cards and heaps of money on it, will henceforth be -forever associated in my mind with the sight of a bed-canopy -descending to suffocate me, in the silence and darkness of the night. - -Just as Mr. Faulkner pronounced the last words, he started in his -chair, and assumed a stiff, dignified position, in a great hurry. -"Bless my soul!" cried he--with a comic look of astonishment and -vexation--"while I have been telling you what is the real secret of my -interest in the sketch you have so kindly given to me, I have -altogether forgotten that I came here to sit for my portrait. For the -last hour, or more, I must have been the worst model you ever had to -paint from!" - -"On the contrary, you have been the best," said I. "I have been -painting from your expression; and, while telling your story, you have -unconsciously shown me the natural expression I wanted." - - - - -WHAT THE SUNBEAM DOES. - - -Heat, or the caloric portion of the sunbeam, is the great cause of -life and motion in this our world. As it were with a magical energy, -it causes the winds to blow and the waters to flow, vivifies and -animates all nature, and then bathes it in refreshing dew. The -intensity of the heat which we receive depends on the distance of the -earth from the sun, its great source, and still more on the relative -position of the two orbs; since in winter we are nearer the sun than -we are in summer, yet, in consequence of the position of the earth at -that season, the sun's rays fall obliquely on its northern hemisphere, -rendering it far colder than at any other period of the year. - -A great portion of the heat-rays which are emitted by the sun are -absorbed in their passage through the atmosphere which surrounds our -globe. It is calculated that about one-third of the heat-rays which -fall on it never reach the earth, which fact adds another to the many -beneficent purposes fulfilled by our gaseous envelope, screening us -from the otherwise scorching heat. It is curious to trace the varied -fates of the calorific rays which strike on the surface of the earth. -Some at once on falling are reflected, and, passing back through the -atmosphere, are lost amid the immensity of space; others are absorbed -or imbibed by different bodies, and, after a time, are radiated from -them; but the greater part of the beams which reach the earth during -the summer are absorbed by it, and conveyed downward to a considerable -distance, by conduction from particle to particle. Heat also spreads -laterally from the regions of the equator toward the poles, thereby -moderating the intense cold of the arctic and antarctic circles, and -in winter, when the forest-trees are covered with snow, their -deeply-penetrating roots are warmed by the heat, which, as in a vast -store-house, has been laid up in the earth, to preserve life during -the dreary winter. The rays which fall on the tropical seas descend to -the depth of about three hundred feet. The sun's attraction for the -earth, being also stronger at that quarter of the world, the heated -waters are drawn upward, the colder waters from the poles rush in, and -thus a great heated current is produced, flowing from the equator -northward and southward, which tends to equalize the temperature of -the earth. The sailor also knows how to avail himself of this -phenomenon. When out at sea, despite his most skillful steering, he is -in constant danger of shipwreck, if he fails to estimate truly the -force and direction of those currents which are dragging him -insensibly out of the true course. His compass does not help him here, -neither does any log yet known give a perfectly authentic result. But -he knows that this great gulf-stream has a stated path and time, and, -by testing from hour to hour the temperature of the water through -which he is proceeding, he knows at what point he is meeting this -current, and reckons accordingly. - -We have already said that heat was the producer of the winds, which -are so essential to the preservation of the purity of the atmosphere. -In order to understand their action, we shall consider the stupendous -phenomenon of the trade-winds, which is similar to that of the current -we have described. The rays of the sun falling vertically on the -regions between the tropics, the air there becomes much heated. It is -the property of air to expand when heated, and, when expanded, it is -necessarily lighter than the cooler air around it. Consequently it -rises. As it rises, the cooler air at once takes its place. Rushing -from the temperate and polar regions to supply the want, the warm air -which has risen flows toward the poles, and descends there, loses its -heat, and again travels to the tropics. Thus a grand circulation is -continually maintained in the atmosphere. These aerial currents, being -affected by the revolution of the earth, do not move due north and -south, as they otherwise would. Hence, while they equalize the -temperature of the atmosphere, they also preserve its purity; for the -pure oxygen evolved by the luxuriant vegetation of the equatorial -regions is wafted by the winds to support life in the teeming -population of the temperate zones, while the air from the poles bears -carbonic acid gas on its wings to furnish food for the rich and -gorgeous plants of the tropics. Thus the splendid water-lily of the -Amazon, the stately palm-tree of Africa, and the great banyan of -India, depend for nourishment on the breath of men and animals in -lands thousands of miles distant from them, and, in return, they -supply their benefactors with vivifying oxygen. - -Little less important, and still more beautiful, is the phenomenon of -dew, which is produced by the power of radiating heat, possessed in -different degrees by all bodies. The powers both of absorbing and of -radiating heat, in great measure, depend on the color of bodies--the -darker the color, the greater the power; so that each lovely flower -bears within its petals a delicate thermometer, which determines the -amount of heat each shall receive, and which is always the amount -essential to their well-being. The queenly rose, the brilliant -carnation, the fair lily, and the many-colored anemone, all basking in -the same bright sunshine, enjoy different degrees of warmth, and when -night descends, and the heat absorbed by day is radiated back, and -bodies become cooler than the surrounding air, the vapor contained in -the atmosphere is deposited in the form of dew. Those bodies which -radiate most quickly receive the most copious supply of the refreshing -fluid. This radiating power depends on the condition of the surface, -as well as upon color, so that we may often see the grass garden -bathed in dew, while the gravel walks which run through it are -perfectly dry, and, again, the smooth, shining, juicy leaves of the -laurel are quite dry, while the rose-tree beneath it is saturated with -moisture. - -The great effect produced on the vegetable kingdom by the heat-rays -may be judged of from the fact, that almost all the plants which -exhibit the remarkable phenomena of irritability, almost approaching -to animal life, are confined to those regions where the heat is -extreme. On the banks of the Indian rivers grows a plant in almost -constant motion. In the hottest of the conservatories at Kew is a -curious plant, whose leaflets rise by a succession of little starts. -The same house contains Venus's fly-trap. Light seems to have no -effect in quickening their movements; but the effect of increased heat -is at once seen. They exhibit their remarkable powers most during the -still hot nights of an Indian summer. - -Heat is of essential importance in the production and ripening of -fruit. Many trees will not bear fruit in our cold climate, which are -most productive in the sunny south. Animal as well as vegetable life -is in great measure dependent on heat. Look at the insect tribes. The -greater number of them pass their winter in the pupa state. Hidden in -some sheltered nook, or buried in the earth, they sleep on, until the -warmth of returning spring awakens them to life and happiness; and if, -by artificial means, the cold be prolonged, they still sleep on, -whereas, if they he exposed to artificial heat, their change is -hastened, and butterflies may be seen sporting about the flowers of a -hothouse, when their less favored relatives are still wrapped in the -deepest slumber. To judge of the influence of heat on the animal and -vegetable economy, we need but contrast summer and winter--the one -radiant and vocal with life and beauty, the other dark, dreary, and -silent. - -The third constituent of the sunbeam is actinism--its property being -to produce chemical effects. So long ago as 1556, it was noticed by -those strange seekers after impossibilities, the alchemists, that horn -silver, exposed to the sunbeam, was blackened by it. This phenomenon -contained the germ of those most interesting discoveries which have -distinguished the present age; but, in their ardent search for the -philosopher's stone and the elixir of life, they overlooked many an -effect of their labors which might have led them to important truths. - -As yet, the effects of actinism have been more studied in the -inanimate than the organic creation. Still, in the vegetable kingdom, -its power is known to be of the utmost importance. A seed exposed to -the entire sunbeam will not germinate; but bury it in the earth, at a -depth sufficient to exclude the light, yet enough to admit actinism, -which, like heat, penetrates the earth to some distance, and soon a -chemical change will take place; the starch contained in the seed is -converted into gum and water, forming the nutriment of the young -plant; the tiny root plunges downward, the slender stem rises to the -light, the first leaves, or cotyledons, then unfold, and now fully -expand to the light, and a series of chemical changes of a totally -different nature commence, which we have before noticed, when speaking -of light. Experiments clearly prove that this change is to be -attributed to actinism, and not to heat. Glass has been interposed of -a dark blue color, which is transparent to actinism, though opaque to -light and heat, and germination has been thereby quickened. Gardeners -have long known this fact practically, and are accustomed to raise -their cuttings under blue shades. There is no doubt that actinism -exercises a powerful and beneficent influence on plants during their -whole existence, but science has yet to demonstrate its nature; and it -is curious to observe that the actinic element is most abundant in the -sunbeam in the spring, when its presence is most essential in -promoting germination--in summer the luminous rays are in excess, when -they are most needed for the formation of woody fibre--and in autumn -the heat-rays prevail, and ripen the golden grain and the delicious -fruit; in each day the proportions of the different rays vary--in the -morning the actinic principle abounds most, at noon the light, and at -eventide the heat. - -The influence of actinism on the animal world is not well known; but -it is probable that many of the effects hitherto referred to light are -in reality due to actinism. It has the strange power of darkening the -human skin, causing the deep color of those tribes who inhabit the -sunniest regions of the earth; and even in our own country, in summer, -that darkening of the skin called sun-burning. Doubtless, more careful -investigation will discover this principle to be equally important to -the life and health of animals as either of its closely allied powers -of light and heat. - -Our knowledge of actinic influence on inanimate nature is not so -scanty, for it is now a well established fact, that the sunbeam can -not fall on any body, whether simple or compound, without producing on -its surface a chemical and molecular change. The immovable rocks which -bound our shores, the mountain which rears its lofty head above the -clouds, the magnificent cathedral, the very triumph of art, and the -beautiful statue in bronze or marble, are all acted on destructively -by the sunbeam, and would soon perish beneath its irresistible energy, -but for the beautiful provision made for their restoration during the -darkness of night--the repose of darkness being no less essential to -inorganic, than it is to animated nature. During its silent hours, the -chemical and molecular changes are all undone, and the destruction of -the day repaired, we know not how. - -The art of painting by the sunbeam has been rather unfortunately -called photography, which means light-painting, for the process is not -due to light, but is rather interfered with by it; and, contrary to -all preconceived ideas, the pictures taken in our comparatively sombre -country, are more easily and brilliantly produced than in brighter -and more sunny lands--so much so, that a gentleman, who took the -requisite materials to Mexico, in order to take views of its principal -buildings, met with failure after failure, and it was not until the -darker days of the rainy season that he met with any measure of -success. - - - - -THE RECORD OF A MADNESS WHICH WAS NOT INSANITY. - - -A fresh, bright dawn, the loveliest hour of an English summer, was -rousing the slumbering life in woods and fields, and painting the -heavens and the earth in the gorgeous hues of the sunrise. - -Beautiful it was to see the first blush of day mantling over the -distant hills, tinging them with a faint crimson, and the first smile -shooting, in one bright beam through the sky, while it lit up the fair -face of nature with a sparkling light. Lilias Randolph stood on the -flight of steps which led from the Abbey to the park, and looked down -on the joyous scene. She seemed herself a very type of the morning, -with her sunny eyes, and her golden hair; and her gaze wandered glad -and free over the spreading landscape, while her thoughts roamed far -away in regions yet more bright--even the sunlit fields of fancy. - -It was the day and the hour when she was to go and meet Richard -Sydney, in order to have, at length, a full revelation of his -mysterious connection with her cousin. She knew that it was an -interview of solemn import to both of those, in whom she felt so deep -an interest; yet, so entirely were one thought and one feeling alone -gaining empire over her spirit that, even then, in that momentous -hour, they had no share in the visions with which her heart was busy. - -So soon, therefore, as Lilias came within sight of Richard Sydney, who -had arrived first at the place of rendezvous, she resolutely banished -the thoughts that were so absorbing to her own glad heart, and set -herself seriously to give her entire attention to the work now before -her, if, haply, it might be given her, in some degree, to minister -unto their grievous misery. And truly her first glance upon the face -of the man who stood there, with his eyes fixed on the path which was -to bring her and her hoped-for succor near to him, would have sufficed -to have driven all ideas from her mind, save the one conviction, that -in that look alone she had acquired a deeper knowledge of suffering -than her own past life, in all its details, had ever afforded her. -Sydney heard her step, long before she believed it possible, and, -bounding toward her, he seized her hand with a grasp which was almost -convulsive. He drew her aside to some little distance from her nurse, -who sat down on a bank to wait for them. - -Lilias bent down her head that she might not seem to note the workings -of his countenance, as he laid bare before her the most hidden springs -of his soul, and he began: - -"I was born heir to a curse. Centuries ago an ancestor of mine -murdered a woman he once had loved, because his neglect had driven -her mad, and that in her ravings she revealed his many crimes. With -her dying breath she invoked the curse of insanity on him and his -house forever, and the cry of her departing soul was heard. There has -not been a generation in our family since that hour which has not had -its shrieking maniac to echo in our ears the murdered woman's scream. -Some there have been among the Sydneys of peculiar constitution, as it -would seem, who have not actually been visited with the malady; but -they have never failed to transmit it to their children. Of such am I; -while my father died a suicide by his own senseless act, and his only -other child besides myself, my sister, wears her coronet of straw in -the Dublin Asylum, and calls herself a queen. - -"It would appall you to hear the fearful calamities which each -succeeding family has undergone through this awful curse. At last, as -the catalogue of tragic events grew darker and darker, it became a -solemn matter of discussion to our unhappy race, whether it were not -an absolute duty that the members of a house so doomed, should cease -at last to propagate the curse, and by a resolute abandonment of all -earthly ties, cause our name and misery to perish from the earth. The -necessity for this righteous sacrifice was admitted; but the -resolution in each separate individual to become the destined -holocaust, has hitherto forever failed before the power of the mighty -human love that lured them ever to its pure resistless joys. It was so -with my father--like myself he was an only son; and, in the ardor of a -generous youth, he vowed to be the offering needful to still the cry -of that innocent blood for vengeance; but the sweet face of my mother -came between him and his holy vow. He married her, and the punishment -came down with fearful weight on both, when her fond heart broke at -sight of his ghastly corpse. Then it was she knew the retribution in -their case had been just; and on her dying bed, with the yet unclosed -coffin of her husband by her side, she made me vow upon the holy cross -that I, myself, would be the sacrifice--that never would I take a wife -unto my heart or home; and that never, from my life, should any -helpless being inherit existence with a curse. That vow I took, that -vow I kept, and that vow I will keep, though Aletheia, beloved of my -heart and soul, dearer than all beneath the skies, were to lay herself -down beneath my very feet to die. Oh! shall we not rest in heaven." - -He bowed his head for a moment, and his frame shook with emotion, but -driving back the tide of anguish, he went on: "After my mother's death -and my sister's removal, who had been insane almost from childhood, I -shut myself up entirely at Sydney Court, and gave way to a species of -morbid melancholy which was thought to be fearfully dangerous for one -in my position. I had friends, however; and the best and truest was -Colonel Randolph, my Aletheia's father, the early companion of my own -poor, hapless parent. He was resolved to save me from the miserable -condition in which I then was. He came to me and told me, with all the -authority of his long friendship, that I must go with him to the -M----, where he had been appointed governor. He said it was a crime to -waste a life, which, though unblest by human ties, might be made most -useful to my fellow-creatures. I had studied much in brighter days, -and given to the world the fruits of my labors. These had not passed -unheeded; he told me they had proved that talents had been committed -to me whereby I might be a benefactor to my race, all the more that no -soft endearments of domestic joys would wean my thoughts from sterner -duties. I was to go with him; he insisted it would benefit myself, and -would injure none. His family consisted of his one daughter, his -precious, beloved Aletheia, for he doated on her with more than the -ordinary love of a father. She knew my history, and would be to me a -sister. Alas! alas! for her destruction, I consented." - -Again, a momentary pause. Lilias gently raised her compassionate eyes, -but he saw her not; he seemed lost in a vision of the past, and soon -went on: - -"That lovely land where I dwelt with her, it seems a type of the -beauty and happiness which was around me then! And, oh! what a dream -it is to think of now--the cloudless sky--the glorious sun--and her -eyes undimmed, her smile unfaded! Oh! Aletheia--my Aletheia--treasure -of many lives! bright and joyous--light to the eyes that looked on -her, blessing to the hearts that loved her--would that I had died or -ever I drew her very soul into mine, and left her the poor, crushed, -helpless being that she is! You can not picture to yourself the -fascination that was around her then--high-minded, noble in heart, -lofty in soul; her bright spirit stamped its glory on her face, and -she was beautiful, with all spiritual loveliness. None ever saw her -who loved her not--her rare talents--her enchanting voice; that voice -of her very soul, which spoke in such wonderful music, drew to her -feet every creature who knew her; for with all these gifts, this -wonderful intellect, and rarest powers of mind, she was playful, -winning, simple as an innocent child. I say none saw her, and loved -her not; how, think you, _I_ loved her?--the doomed man, the desolate -being, whose barren, joyless life walked hand in hand with a curse. -Let this anguish tell you how I loved her;" and he turned on Lilias a -face of ghastly paleness, convulsed with agony, and wet with the dews -of suffering; but he did not pause, he went on rapidly: "I was mad, -then, in one sense, though it was the madness of the heart, and not -the brain. Poor wretch, I thought I would wring a joy out of my -blasted life in spite of fate, and, while none other claimed her as -their own, I would revel in her presence, and in the rapture of her -tenderness. I knew it was mockery when I bid her call me brother--a -sister truly is loved with other love than that I gave her. I would -have seen every relation I had ever known laid dead at my feet, could -I have thereby purchased for her, my thrice-beloved one, one moment's -pleasure. - -"Lilias, does a passion of such fearful power shock and terrify you, -who have only known the placid beating of a gentle, childlike heart? -Take a yet deeper lesson, then, in the dark elements of which this -life may be composed, and learn that deep, and true, and mighty as was -my love for her, it is as a mere name, a breath, a vapor, compared -with that most awful affection which Aletheia had already, even then, -vowed unto me, in the depth of her secret heart. Ah! it needed, in -truth, such an agony as that which is now incorporate with it in her -heart, to cope with its immensity; for, truly, no weak happiness of -earth could have had affinity with it--a love so saint-like must needs -have been a martyr. I will not attempt to tell you what her devotion -to me was, and is, and shall be, while one faintest throb of life is -stirring in her noble heart. You have seen it--you have seen that love -looking through those eyes of hers, like a mighty spirit endowed with -an existence separate from her own, which holds her soul in its -fierce, powerful grasp. - -"I must hurry on now, and my words must be rapid as the events that -drove us from the serene elysian fields of that first dear -companionship, through storm and whirlwind, to this wilderness of -misery where I am sent to wander to and fro, like a murderer, as I am; -condemned to watch the daily dying of the sweet life I have destroyed. -You may think me blind and senseless, for so I surely was, but it is -certain that I never suspected the love she bore me. I saw that she -turned away from the crowds that flocked around, and was deaf to all -the offers that were made to her, of rank, and wealth, and station, -and many a true heart's love; but I thought this was because her own -was yet untouched, and when I saw that I alone was singled out to be -the object of her attention and solicitude, I fancied it was but the -effect of her deep, generous pity for my desolate condition--and pity -it was, but such as the mother feels for the suffering of the -first-born, whom she adores. And the day of revelation came! - -"I told you how Colonel Randolph doated on his daughter; truly, none -ever loved Aletheia with a common love. When he was released from the -duties of his high office, it was one of his greatest pleasures to -walk, or ride with me, that he might talk to me of her. One morning he -came in with a packet of letters from England, and, taking me by the -arm, drew me out into the garden, that he might tell me some news, -which, he said, gave him exceeding joy. The letters announced the -arrival of the son of an old friend of his, who had just succeeded to -his title and estates, the young Marquis of L----, and further -communicated, in the most unreserved manner, that his object in coming -to the M---- was to make Aletheia his wife, if he could win her to -himself; he had long loved her, and had only delayed his offer till he -could install her in his lordly castle with all the honors of his -station. To see this union accomplished, Colonel Randolph said, had -been his one wish since both had played as children at his feet, and -he now believed the desired consummation was at hand. Aletheia's -consent was alone required, and there seemed no reason to doubt it -would be given, for there was not, he asserted, in all England, one -more worthy of her, by every noble gift of mind, than the high-born, -generous-hearted L----. - -"Why, indeed, should she not, at once, accept the brilliant destiny -carved out for her!--I did not doubt it more than the exulting father, -and I heard my doom fixed in the same senseless state of calm with -which the criminal who knows his guilt and its penalty, hears the -sentence of his execution. I had long known this hour must come; and -what had I now to do but gather, as it were, a shroud round my -tortured soul, and, like the Cæsars, die decently to all earthly -happiness! Even in that tremendous hour, I had a consciousness of the -dignity of suffering--suffering, that is, which comes from the height -of heaven above, and not from the depths of crime below! I resolved -that the lamp of my life's joy should go out without a sigh audible to -human ears, save hers alone, who had lit that pure flame in the black -night of my existence. - -"Lilias, I enter into no detail of what I felt in that momentous -crisis, for you have no woman's heart if you have not understood it, -in its uttermost extent of misery. One thought, however, stood up -pre-eminent in that chaos of suffering--the conviction that I must not -see Aletheia Randolph again, or the very powers of my mind would give -way in the struggle that must ensue. This thought, and one other--one -solitary gleam of dreary comfort, that alone relieved the great -darkness which had fallen upon me, were all that seemed distinct in my -mind: that last mournful consolation was the resolution taken along -with the vow to see her no more, that ere I passed forever from her -memory, she should know what was the love with which I loved her. - -"Quietly I gave her father my hand when I quitted him, and he said, -'We shall meet in the evening;' my own determination was never to look -upon his face again. I went home, and sitting down, I wrote to -Aletheia a letter, in which all the pent-up feelings of the deep, -silent devotion I cherished for her, were poured out in words to which -the wretchedness of my position gave a fearful intensity--burning -words, indeed! She has told me since, that they seemed to eat into her -heart like fire. I left the letter for her and quitted the house; and -I believed my feet should never pass that beloved threshold again. -There was a spot where Aletheia and I had gone almost day by day to -wander, since we had dwelt in that land. She loved it, because she -could look out over the ocean in its boundlessness, whose aspect -soothed her, she said, as with a promise of eternity. It was a huge -rock that rose perpendicularly from the sea, and sloped down on the -other side, by a gentle declivity, to the plain. I have often thought -what a type of our life it was; we saw nothing of the precipice as we -ascended the soft and verdant mount, and suddenly it was at our feet, -and if the blast of heaven had driven us another step, it had been -into destruction. - -"Thither, when I had parted, as I believed, forever, with that darling -of my heart, I went with what intent I know not: it was not to commit -suicide; although in that form, in the mad longing for it, the curse -of my family has ever declared itself. I was yet sane, and my soul -acknowledged and abhorred the tremendous guilt of that mysterious -crime, wherein the created dashes back the life once given, in the -very face of the Creator; not for suicide I went, yet, Lilias, as I -stood within an inch of death, and looked down on the placid waters -that had so swiftly cooled the burning anguish of my heart and brain, -I felt, in the intense desire to terminate my life, and in that desire -resisted, a more stinging pain than any which my bitter term of years -has ever offered me. Oh, how shall I tell you what followed? I feel as -though I could not: and briefly, and, indeed, incoherently, must I -speak; for on the next hour--the supreme, the crowning hour of all my -life--my spirit enters not, without an intensity of feeling which -well-nigh paralyzes every faculty. - -"I stood there, and suddenly I heard a sound--a soft, breathing sound, -as of a gentle fawn wearied in some steep ascent--a sound coming -nearer and nearer, bringing with it ten thousand memories of hours and -days that were to come no more: a step, light and tremulous, falling -on the soft grass softly, and then a voice.--Oh, when mine ears are -locked in death, shall I not hear it?--a voice uttering low and sweet, -my well-known name. I turned, and when I saw that face, on whose sweet -beauty other eyes should feed, yea, other lips caress, for one instant -the curse of my forefather seemed upon me; my brain reeled, and I -would have sprung from the precipice to die. But ere I could -accomplish the sudden craving of this momentary frenzy, Aletheia, my -own Aletheia, was at my feet, her clinging arms were round me, her -lips were pressed upon my hands, and her voice--her sweet, dear -voice--went sounding through my soul like a sudden prophecy of most -unearthly joy, murmuring, 'Live, live for me, mine own forever!' - -"Oh, Lilias, how can I attempt with human words to tell you of these -things, so far beyond the power of language to express! I felt that -what she said was true--that in some way, by some wonderful means, she -was in very deed and truth, 'mine own, forever,' though, in that -moment of supremest joy, no less firmly than in the hour of supremest -sorrow by my mother's dying bed, my heart and soul were faithful to -the vow then taken, that never on my desolate breast a wife should lay -her head to rest. 'Mine own forever!'--as I looked down, and met the -gaze of fathomless, unutterable love with which her tearful eyes were -fastened full upon my own, I was as one who having long dwelt in -darkest night, was blinded with the sudden glare of new returning day. -I staggered back, and leant against the rock; faint and shivering I -stretched out my hands on that beloved head, longing for the power to -bless her, and said, 'Oh, Aletheia, what is it you have said: have you -forgotten who and what I am!' - -"'No!' was her answer, steady and distinct; 'and for that very reason, -because you are a stricken man, forever cut off from all the common -ties of earth, have I been given to you, to be in heart and soul -peculiarly your own, with such a measure of entire devotion as never -was offered to man on earth before.' - -"I looked at her almost in bewilderment. She rose up to her full -height, perfectly calm, and with a deep solemnity in her words and -aspect. - -"'Richard,' she said, 'the lives of both of us are hanging on this -hour; by it shall all future existence on this earth be shaped for us, -and its memory shall come with death itself to look us in the face, -and stamp our whole probation with its seal; it becomes us, therefore, -to cast aside all frivolous rules of man's convention, and speak the -truth as deathless soul with deathless soul. Hear me, then, while I -open up my inmost spirit to your gaze, and then decide whether you -will lay your hand upon my life, and say--'Thou art my own;' or -whether you will fling it from you to perish as some worthless thing?' - -"I bowed my head in token that she should continue, for I could not -speak. I, Lilias, who had looked death and insanity in the face, under -their most frightful shapes, trembled, like a reed in the blast, -before the presence of a love that was mightier than either! Aletheia -stretched out her hand over the precipice, and spoke-- - -"'Hear me, then, declare first of all, solemnly as though this hour -were my last, that, not even to save you from that death which, but -now, you dared to meditate, would I ever consent to be your wife, even -if you wished it, as utterly as I doubt not you abhor the idea of such -perjury--not to save you from death--I say--the death of the mortal -body, for by conniving at your failure in that most righteous vow, -once taken on the holy cross itself, I should peril--yea, destroy, it -may be, the immortal soul, which is the true object of my love. Hear -me, in the face of that pure sky announce this truth, and then may I -freely declare to you all that is in my heart--all the sacred purpose -of my life for you, without a fear that my worst enemy could pronounce -me unmaidenly or overbold, though I have that to say which few women -ever said unasked.' - -"Unmaidenly! Oh, Lilias, could you have seen the noble dignity of her -fearless innocence in that hour, you would have felt that never had -the impress of a purer heart been stamped upon a virgin brow." - -"'Have you understood and well considered this my settled purpose -never to be your wife?' she continued. - -"And I said--'I have.'" - -"'Then speak out, my soul,' she exclaimed, lifting up her eyes as if -inspired. 'Tell him that there is a righteous Providence over the life -that immolates itself for virtue's sake! and that another existence -hath been sent to meet it in the glorious sacrifice, in order that -this one may yield up its treasures to the heart that would have -stript itself of all! Richard, Richard Sydney, you have made a -holocaust of your life, and lo! by the gift of another life, it is -repaid to you.' - -"Slowly she knelt down, and took my hand in both of hers, while with -an aspect calm and firm, and a voice unfaltering, she spoke this vow: - -'I, Aletheia Randolph, do most solemnly vow and promise to give -myself, in heart and soul, unto the last day of my life, wholly and -irrevocably, to Richard Sydney. I devote to him, and him alone, my -whole heart, my whole life, and my whole love. I do forever forswear, -for his sake, all earthly ties, all earthly affections, and all -earthly hopes. I will love him only, live for him only, and make it my -one happiness to minister to him in all things as faithfully and -tenderly as though I were bound to him by the closest of human -bonds--in spite of all obstacles and the world's blame--in defiance of -all allurements, which might induce me to abandon him. I will seek to -abide ever as near to him as may be, that I may bestow on him all the -care and tender watchfulness which the most faithful wife could offer; -but absent or present, living or dying, no human being on this earth -shall ever have known such an entire devotion as I will give to him -till the last breath pass from this heart in death!' - -"I was speechless, Lilias--speechless with something almost of horror -at the sacrifice she was making! I strove to withdraw my hand--I could -have died to save her from thus immolating herself; but she clung to -me, and a deadly paleness spread itself over her countenance as she -felt my movement. - -"'Hear me! hear me yet again, Richard Sydney!' she exclaimed; 'you can -not prevent me taking this vow; it was registered in the record of my -fate--uttered again and again deep in my soul, long before it was -spoken by these mortal lips!--it is done--I am yours forever, or -forever perjured! But hear me!--hear me!--although the offering of my -life is made, yea, and it _shall_ be yours in every moment, in every -thought, in every impulse of my being, yet I can not force you to -accept this true oblation, made once for all, and forever! I can not -constrain you to load your existence with mine. Now, now, the -consummation of all is in your own hands; you may make this offering, -which is never to be recalled, as you will--a blessing or a curse to -yourself as unto me! I am powerless--what you decree I must submit to; -but hear me, hear me!--although you now reject, and scorn, and spurn -me--me, and the life which I have given you--although you drive me -from you, and command me never to appear before your eyes again, yet, -Richard Sydney, I WILL KEEP MY VOW! Even in obeying you, and departing -to the uttermost corner of the earth that you may never look upon my -face again; yet will I keep my vow, and the life shall be yours, and -the love shall be around you; and the heart, and the soul, and the -thoughts, and the prayers of her, who is your own forever, shall be -with you night and day, till she expires in the agony of your -rejection. - -"'This were the curse, and curse me if you will, I yet will bless you! -And now hear, hear what the blessing might be if you so willed it. In -spiritual union we should be forever linked, soul with soul, and heart -with heart--all in all to one another in that wedding of our immortal -spirits only, as truly and joyously as though we had been bound in an -earthly bridal at the altar; abiding forever near each other in -sweetest and most pure companionship, while my father lives under the -same roof, and afterward still meeting daily; one in love, in joy, in -hope, in sorrow; one in death (for if your soul were first called -forth, I know that mine would take that summons for its own), and one, -if it were so permitted, in eternity itself. This we may be, Richard -Sydney, this we shall be, except you will, this day, trample down -beneath your feet the life that gives itself to you. But wherefore, -oh, wherefore would you do so? Why cast away the gift which hath been -sent, in order that, by a wondrous and most just decree, the righteous -man who, in his noble rectitude, abandoned every earthly tie, should -be possessed, instead thereof, of such a deep, devoted love as never -human heart received before? Wherefore, oh! wherefore? Yet, do as you -will, now you know all; and I, who still, whatever be your decree, -happen what may, am verily your own forever, must here abide the -sentence of my life.' - -"Slowly her dear head fell down upon her trembling hands, and, -kneeling at my feet, she waited my acceptance or rejection of the -noblest gift that ever one immortal spirit made unto another. Lilias, -I told you when I commenced this agonizing record, that there were -portions of it which I would breathe to no mortal ears, not even to -yours, good and gentle as you are. And now, of such is all that -followed in the solemn, blessed hours of which I speak; you know what -my answer was; it can not be that you doubt it--could it have been -otherwise, indeed? She had said truly, that the deed was done--the -sacrifice was made--the life was given. What would it have availed if -I, by my rejection, had punished her unparalleled devotion with -unexampled misery? and for myself, could I--could I--should I have -been human if I, who, till that hour, had believed myself of all men -most accursed on earth--had suddenly refused to be above all men -blest? - -"When the sun went down that night, sinking into the sea, whose -boundlessness seemed narrow to my infinity of joy, Aletheia lay at my -feet like a cradled child; and as I bent down over her, and scarcely -dared to touch, with deep respect, the long, soft tresses of her -waving hair, which the light breeze lifted to my lips, I heard her -ever murmuring, as though she could never weary of that sound of -joy--'Mine own, mine own forever.' - -"The period which followed that wonderful hour was one of an Eden-like -happiness, such as, I believe, this fallen world never could before -have witnessed--it was the embodiment, in every hour and instant, of -that blessing of which my Aletheia had so fervently spoken--the -spiritual union which linked us in heart and soul alone, was as -perfect as it was unearthly; and the intense bliss which flowed from -it, on both of us, could only have been equaled by the love, no less -intense, that made us what we were. - -"But, Lilias, of this brief dream of deep delight I will not and I can -not speak. This is a record of misery and not of joy," he continued, -turning round upon her almost fiercely. "It becomes not me, who have -been the murderer of Aletheia's joyous life, to take so much as the -name of happiness between my lips. It passed--it departed--that joy, -as a spirit departs out of the body; unseen, unheard; you know not it -is gone, till suddenly you see that the beautiful living form has -become a stark and ghastly corpse!--and so, in like manner, our life -became a hideous thing.... - -"Colonel Randolph asked me to go on an embassy to a distant town; the -absence was to be but for a fortnight. We were to write daily to one -another, and we thought nothing of it. Nevertheless, in one sense, we -felt it to be momentous. Aletheia designed, if an opportunity -occurred, to inform her father of the change in her existence, and the -irrevocable fate to which she had consigned herself. She had delayed -doing so hitherto, because his mind had been fearfully disturbed by -grievous disappointments in public affairs; and as he was a man of -peculiarly sensitive temperament, she would not add to his distresses -by the announcement of the fact, which she knew he would consider the -great misfortune of his life. It was impossible, indeed, that the -doating father could fail to mourn bitterly over the sacrifice of his -one beloved daughter, to the man who dared not so much as give her -barren life the protection of his name lest haply, he wed her to a -maniac. - -"It was within two days of my proposed return to their home, that an -express arrived in fiery haste to tell me Colonel Randolph had fallen -from his horse, had received a mortal injury, and was dying. I was -summoned instantly. He had said he would not die in peace till he saw -me. One hurried line from Aletheia, in addition to the aid-de-camp's -letter, told how even, in that awful hour, I was first and last in his -thoughts. It ran thus: 'He is on his death-bed, and I have told him -all. I could not let him die unknowing the consecration of his child -to one so worthy of her. But, alas! I know not why, it seems almost to -have maddened him. He says he will tell you all; come, then, with all -speed.' - -"In two hours I was by the side of the dying man. Aletheia was -kneeling with her arms round him, and he was gazing at her with -sombre, mournful fondness. The instant he saw me he pushed her from -him. 'Go,' he said, 'I must see this man alone.' The epithet startled -me. I saw he was filled with a bitter wrath. His daughter obeyed; she -rose and left the room; but as she passed me she took my hand, and -bowing herself as to her master, pressed it to her lips, then turning -round she said. 'Father, remember what I have told you: he is mine own -forever; not even your death-bed curse could make me falter in my -vow.' He groaned aloud: 'No curse, no curse, my child,' he cried; -'fear not; it is not you whom I would curse. Come--kiss me; we may -perhaps not meet again; and if you find me dead at your return--' He -waited till she closed the door, and then added, 'Say that Richard -Sydney killed me, and you will speak the truth! Madman, madman, -indeed! What is it you have done? Was it for this I took you into my -home, and was to you a father? That you might slay my only -daughter--that you might make such havoc of her life as is worse than -a thousand deaths.' - -"I would have spoken; he fiercely interrupted me: 'I know what you -would say--that she gave herself to you--that she offered this -oblation of a whole existence--but I tell you, if one grain of justice -or of generosity had been within your coward heart, you would have -flung yourself over that precipice, and so absolved her from her vow, -rather than let her immolate herself to a doom so horrible; for you -know not, yourself, what is that doom! Yes, poor wretch,' he added, -more gently, 'you knew not what you did; but I know, and now will I -tell. I, who have watched over the soul of Aletheia Randolph for -well-nigh twenty years, know well of what fire it is made; I tell you -I have long foreknown that there was a capacity of love in her which -is most awful, and which would most infallibly work her utter woe, -except its ardent immensity found a perpetual outlet in the many ties -which weave themselves around a happy wife and mother. And now, oh! -was there none to have mercy on her, and save her noble heart and life -from such destruction; this soul of flame, fathomless as the deep, -burning and pure as the spotless noonday sky, hath gone forth to -fasten itself upon a desolating, barren, mournful love, where, -hungering forever after happiness, and never fed, it will be driven to -insanity or death! Yes, I tell you, it will be so; my departing spirit -is almost on my lips, and my words must be few, but they are words of -fearful truth. I know her, and I know that thus it will be; one day's -separation from you, whom the world will never admit to be her -own--one cloud upon your brow, which she has not the power to -disperse, will work in her a torment that will sap her noble mind, and -will make her, haply, the lunatic, and _you_--_you_, descendant of the -maniac Sydneys, her keeper! Oh, what had she done to you that you -should hate her so? Oh, wherefore have you cursed her, my innocent -child, my only daughter?' - -"I fell on my knees; I gasped for breath; Lilias, I felt that every -word he said was true, that all would come to pass as he foretold; for -he spoke with the prophetic truth of the dying; he saw my utter agony. -Suddenly he lifted himself up in the bed, and the movement broke the -bandage on his head, whence the blood streamed suddenly with a -destructive violence; he heeded it not, but grasped my arm with the -last energy of life. - -"'I see you are in torments,' he said, 'and fitly so; but if you have -this much of grace left, now at least to suffer, it may be that every -spark of justice is not dead within you, and that you will save her -yet.' - -"'Save her!' I almost shrieked. 'Yes, if by any means upon this earth -such a blessing be possible! Shall I die? I am ready--oh, how ready.' - -"'No; to die were but to carry her into your grave,' the cruel voice -replied; 'but living, I believe that you may save her. From what I -know of that most noble child's pure soul, I do believe that you may -save her yet. Man! who have been her curse and mine, will you swear to -do so, by any means I may command?' - -"'I will swear!' was my answer, and his glazing eyes were suddenly lit -up with a fierce delight. 'And how?' I cried. - -"'Thus,' he answered, drawing me close to him, and putting his lips to -my ear: 'by rendering yourself hateful to her! To quit her were to bid -her lament you unto the death; but _by her very side to render -yourself abhorrent to her_, thus shall you save her! You have -sworn--remember, you have sworn! Go! When I am dead, give up that -voice and look of love; put on a stern aspect; treat her as a cruel -taskmaster treats a slave; be harsh; be merciless; tell her the love -she bears you, by its depth of passion, hath become a crime, and you -have vowed to crush it out of her; but say not I commanded it; let her -believe it is your own free will; punish her for that love; let her -think you hate her for it; trample her soul beneath your haughty feet; -let her hear naught but bitterest words--see naught but sternest -looks--feel naught but a grasp severe and torturing--to tear her -clinging arms from around you!--so shall you save her; for she will -suffer but a little while at first, and then will leave you to be -forever blest;--so shall you crush her love, and send her out from -your heart to seek a better. Sydney, you have sworn to do it--you have -sworn!' - -"He repeated the words with fearful vehemence, for life was ebbing -with the blood that flowed. Gathering up his last energies, he -shrieked into my ear--'Say that you have sworn!--answer, or my spirit -curses you forever!' and I answered: 'I have sworn!' - -"He burst into a laugh of awful triumph, sunk back, and expired.... - -"Lilias, I have kept that vow!" - -At these words, uttered in a hoarse and ominous tone, which seemed to -convey a volume of fearful meaning, a cold shiver crept over the frame -of the young Lilias: a horror unspeakable took possession of her, as -the vail seemed suddenly lifted up from the mysterious agony which had -made Aletheia's life, even to the outward eye, a mere embodiment of -perpetual suffering; and her deep and womanly appreciation of what her -unhappy cousin had endured, caused her to shrink almost in fear from -the wretched man by her side, who had thus been constrained to become -the cruel tyrant of her he loved so fondly. But he spoke again in such -broken, faltering accents, that her heart once more swelled with pity -for him. - -"Yes, Lilias, I kept that fearful vow: the grasp of the dead man's -hand, which, even as he stiffened into a mass of senseless clay, still -locked my own as with an iron gripe, seemed to have bound it on my -soul, and I, alas! believed in the efficacy of this means for her -restoration from the destructive madness of her love to such an one as -I. I believed I thus should save her, and turn her pure affection to a -salutary hate. Yes; with energy, with fierce determination, I did keep -that vow, because it was to bind myself unto such untold tortures, -that it seemed a righteous expiation; and what, oh, what has been the -result! Her father thought he knew her. He thought the intensity of -her tenderness would brave insanity or death; but, not _my_ hatred and -contempt! and he knew her not, in her unparalleled generosity! for -behold her glorious devotion hath trampled even my contumely under -foot, and hath risen faithful, changeless, all perfect as before. - -"Oh, Lilias, I can not tell you the detail of the cruelties I have -perpetrated on her--redoubled, day by day, as I saw them all fall -powerless before her matchless love. I told her that because of its -intensity, her affection had become a crime, for one whose eternal -abiding place was not within this world, and that it inspired me with -horror and with wrath; and since she had taken me for her master, as -her master, I would drive this passion from her soul, by even the -sternest means that fancy can devise; and then, I dare not tell you -all that I have done; but she, with her imploring voice, her tender, -mournful eyes, forever answered that if she were hateful to me I had -better leave her, only with me should go her love, her life, her very -soul! Alas! alas! I could not leave her till my fearful task was done. -I have labored--oh, let the spirit of that dead father witness--I have -labored according to his will, and what has been the up-shot of it -all? Lilias," he spoke with sudden fierceness, "I have learnt to crush -the life out of her, _but not the love_! the pure, devoted, boundless -love is there, still, true and tender as before, only it abides my -torture, day and night, chained to the rack by these cruel hands." - -He buried his face on his knees, and a strong convulsion shook his -frame. - - - - -A TALE OF MID-AIR. - - -In a cottage in the valley of Sallanches near the foot of Mont Blanc, -lived old Bernard and his three sons. One morning he lay in bed sick, -and, burning with fever, watched anxiously for the return of his son, -Jehan, who had gone to fetch a physician. At length a horse's tread -was heard, and soon afterward the Doctor entered. He examined the -patient closely, felt his pulse, looked at his tongue, and then said, -patting the old man's cheek, "It will be nothing, my friend--nothing!" -but he made a sign to the three lads, who open-mouthed and anxious, -stood grouped around the bed. All four withdrew to a distant corner, -the doctor shook his head, thrust out his lower lip, and said "Tis a -serious attack--very serious--of fever. He is now in the height of the -fit, and as soon as it abates he must have sulphate of quinine." - -"What is that, doctor?" - -"Quinine, my friend, is a very expensive medicine, but which you may -procure at Sallanches. Between the two fits your father must take at -least three francs' worth. I will write the prescription. You can -read, Guillaume?" - -"Yes, doctor." - -"And you will see that he takes it?" - -"Certainly." - -When the physician was gone, Guillaume, Pierre, and Jehan looked at -each other in silent perplexity. Their whole stock of money consisted -of a franc and a half, and yet the medicine must be procured -immediately. - -"Listen," said Pierre, "I know a method of getting from the mountain -before night three or four five-franc pieces." - -"From the mountain?" - -"I have discovered an eagle's nest in a cleft of a frightful -precipice. There is a gentleman at Sallanches, who would gladly -purchase the eagles; and nothing made me hesitate but the terrible -risk of taking them; but that's nothing when our father's life is -concerned. We may have them now in two hours." - -"I will rob the nest," said Guillaume. - -"No, no, let me," said Jehan, "I am the youngest and lightest." - -"I have the best right to venture," said Pierre, "as it was I who -discovered it." - -"Come," said Pierre, "let us decide by drawing lots. Write three -numbers, Guillaume, put them into my hat, and whoever draws number one -will try the venture." - -Guillaume blackened the end of a wooden splinter in the fire; tore an -old card into three pieces; wrote on them one, two, three, and threw -them into the hat. - -How the three hearts beat! Old Bernard lay shivering in the cold fit, -and each of his sons longed to risk his own life, to save that of his -father. - -The lot fell on Pierre, who had discovered the nest; he embraced the -sick man. - -"We shall not be long absent, father," he said, "and it is needful for -us to go together." - -"What are you going to do?" - -"We will tell you as soon as we come back." - -Guillaume took down from the wall an old sabre, which had belonged to -Bernard when he served as a soldier; Jehan sought a thick cord which -the mountaineers use when cutting down trees; and Pierre went toward -an old wooden cross, reared near the cottage, and knelt before it for -some minutes in fervent prayer. - -They set out together, and soon reached the brink of the precipice. -The danger consisted not only in the possibility of falling several -hundred feet, but still more in the probable aggression of the birds -of prey, inhabiting the wild abyss. - -Pierre, who was to brave these perils, was a fine athletic young man of -twenty-two. Having measured with his eye the distance he would have to -descend, his brothers fastened the cord around his waist, and began to -let him down. Holding the sabre in his hand, he safely reached the -nook that contained the nest. In it were four eaglets of a light -yellowish-brown color, and his heart beat with joy at the sight of -them. He grasped the nest firmly in his left hand, and shouted -joyfully to his brothers, "I have them! Draw me up!" - -Already the first upward pull was given to the cord, when Pierre felt -himself attacked by two enormous eagles, whose furious cries proved -them to be the parents of the nestlings. - -"Courage, brother! defend thyself! don't fear!" - -Pierre pressed the nest to his bosom, and with his right hand made the -sabre play around his head. - -Then began a terrible combat. The eagles shrieked, the little ones -cried shrilly, the mountaineer shouted and brandished his sword. He -slashed the birds with its blade, which flashed like lightning, and -only rendered them still more enraged. He struck the rock and sent -forth a shower of sparks. - -Suddenly he felt a jerk given to the cord that sustained him. Looking -up he perceived that, in his evolutions, he had cut it with his sabre, -and that half the strands were severed! - -Pierre's eyes, dilated widely, remained for a moment immovable, and -then closed with terror. A cold shudder passed through his veins, and -he thought of letting go both the nest and the sabre. - -At that moment one of the eagles pounced on his head, and tried to -tear his face. The Savoyard made a last effort, and defended himself -bravely. He thought of his old father, and took courage. - -Upward, still upward, mounted the cord: friendly voices eagerly -uttered words of encouragement and triumph; but Pierre could not reply -to them. When he reached the brink of the precipice, still clasping -fast the nest, his hair, which an hour before had been as black as a -raven's wing, was become so completely white, that Guillaume and Jehan -could scarcely recognize him. - -What did that signify? the eaglets were of the rarest and most -valuable species. That same afternoon they were carried to the village -and sold. Old Bernard had the medicine, and every needful comfort -beside, and the doctor in a few days pronounced him convalescent. - - - - -STORIES ABOUT BEASTS AND BIRDS. - - -The strength and courage of the lion is so great that, although he is -seldom four feet in height, he is more than a match for fierce animals -of three or four times his size, such as the buffalo. He will even -attack a rhinoceros or an elephant, if provoked. He possesses such -extraordinary muscular power, that he has been known to kill and carry -off a heifer of two years old in his mouth, and, after being pursued -by herdsmen on horseback for five hours, it has been found that he has -scarcely ever allowed the body of the heifer to touch the ground -during the whole distance. But here is an instance of strength in a -man--a different sort of strength--which surpasses all we ever heard -of a lion: - -Three officers in the East Indies--Captain Woodhouse, Lieutenant -Delamain, and Lieutenant Laing--being informed that two lions had made -their appearance, in a jungle, at some twenty miles' distance from -their cantonment, rode off in that direction to seek an engagement. -They soon found the "lordly strangers," or natives, we should rather -say. One of the lions was killed by the first volley they fired; the -other retreated across the country. The officers pursued, until the -lion, making an abrupt curve, returned to his jungle. They then -mounted an elephant, and went in to search for him. They found him -standing under a bush, looking directly toward them. He sought no -conflict, but seeing them approach, he at once accepted the first -challenge, and sprang at the elephant's head, where he hung on. The -officers fired; in the excitement of the onset their aim was defeated, -and the lion only wounded. The elephant, meanwhile, had shaken him -off, and, not liking such an antagonist, refused to face him again. -The lion did not pursue, but stood waiting. At length the elephant was -persuaded to advance once more; seeing which, the lion became furious, -and rushed to the contest. The elephant turned about to retreat, and -the lion, springing upon him from behind, grappled his flesh with -teeth and claws, and again hung on. The officers fired, while the -elephant kicked with all his might; but, though the lion was -dislodged, he was still without any mortal wound, and retired into the -thicket, content with what he had done in return for the assault. The -officers had become too excited to desist; and in the fever of the -moment, as the elephant, for his part, now directly refused to have -any thing more to do with the business, Captain Woodhouse resolved to -dismount, and go on foot into the jungle. Lieutenant Delamain and -Lieutenant Laing dismounted with him, and they followed in the -direction the lion had taken. They presently got sight of him, and -Captain Woodhouse fired, but apparently without any serious injury, as -they saw "the mighty lord of the woods" retire deeper into the thicket -"with the utmost composure." They pursued, and Lieutenant Delamain got -a shot at the lion. This was to be endured no longer, and forth came -the lion, dashing right through the bushes that intervened, so that he -was close upon them in no time. The two lieutenants were just able to -escape out of the jungle to re-load, but Captain Woodhouse stood -quietly on one side, hoping the lion would pass him unobserved. This -was rather too much to expect after all he had done. The lion darted -at him, and in an instant, "as though by a stroke of lightning," the -rifle was broken and knocked out of his hand, and he found himself in -the grip of the irresistible enemy whom he had challenged to mortal -combat. Lieutenant Delamain fired at the lion without killing him, and -then again retreated to re-load. Meantime, Captain Woodhouse and the -lion were both lying wounded on the ground, and the lion began to -craunch his arm. In this dreadful position Captain Woodhouse had the -presence of mind, and the fortitude, amid the horrible pain he -endured, to lie perfectly still--knowing that if he made any -resistance now, he would be torn to pieces in a minute. Finding all -motion had ceased, the lion let the arm drop from his mouth, and -quietly crouched down with his paws on the thigh of his prostrate -antagonist. Presently, Captain Woodhouse, finding his head in a -painful position, unthinkingly raised one hand to support it, -whereupon the lion again seized his arm, and craunched it higher up. -Once more, notwithstanding the intense agony, and yet more intense -apprehension of momentary destruction, Captain Woodhouse had the -strength of will and self-command to lie perfectly still. He remained -thus, until his friends, discovering his situation, were hastening up, -but upon the wrong side, so that their balls might possibly pass -through the lion, and hit him. Without moving, or manifesting any -hasty excitement, he was heard to say, in a low voice, "To the other -side!--to the other side!" They hurried round. Next moment the -magnanimous lion lay dead by the side of a yet stronger nature than -his own. - -Diedrik Müller, during his hunting time in South Africa, came suddenly -upon a lion. The lion did not attack him, but stood still, as though -he would have said, "Well, what do you want here in my desert?" Müller -alighted from his horse, and took deliberate aim at the lion's -forehead. Just as he drew the trigger, his horse gave a start of -terror, and the hunter missed his aim. The lion sprang forward; but, -finding that the man stood still--for he had no time either to remount -his horse, or take to his heels--the lion stopped within a few paces, -and stood still also, confronting him. The man and the lion stood -looking at each other for some minutes; the man never moved; at length -the lion slowly turned, and walked away. Müller began hastily to -re-load his gun. The lion looked back over his shoulder, gave a deep -growl, and instantly returned. Could words speak plainer? Müller, of -course, held his hand, and remained motionless. The lion again moved -off, warily. The hunter began softly to ram down his bullet. Again the -lion looked back, and gave a threatening growl. This was repeated -between them until the lion had retired to some distance, when he -bounded into a thicket. - -A very curious question is started by the worthy vicar of Swaffham -Bulbec on the mortality of birds. The mortality must be enormous every -year, yet how seldom in our country rambles do we find a dead bird. -One, now and then, in the woods or hedgerows, is the utmost seen by -any body, even if he search for them. Very few, comparatively, are -destroyed by mankind. Only a few species are killed by sportsmen; all -the rest can not live long, nor can they all be eaten by other birds. -Many must die from natural causes. Immense numbers, especially of the -smaller birds, are born each year, yet they do not appear to increase -the general stock of the species. Immense numbers, therefore, must die -every year; but what becomes of the bodies? Martins, nightingales, and -other migratory birds, may be supposed to leave a great number of -their dead relations in foreign countries; this, however, can not -apply to our own indigenous stock. Mr. Jenyns partly accounts for this -by saying, that no doubt a great many young birds fall a prey to -stronger birds soon after leaving the nest, and probably a number of -the elder birds also; while the very old are killed by the cold of -winter; or, becoming too feeble to obtain food, drop to the earth, and -are spared the pain of starvation by being speedily carried off by -some hungry creature of the woods and fields. Besides these means for -the disposal of the bodies, there are scavenger insects, who devour, -and another species who act as sextons, and bury the bodies. During -the warm months of summer, some of the burying beetles will accomplish -"the humble task allotted them by Providence," in a surprisingly short -time. Mr. Jenyns has repeatedly, during a warm spring, placed dead -birds upon the ground, in different spots frequented by the -_necrophorus vespillo_, and other allied beetles, who have effected -the interment so completely in four-and-twenty hours, that there was a -difficulty in finding the bodies again. - -All this goes a great way to account for our so very seldom seeing any -dead birds lying about, notwithstanding the immense mortality that -must take place every year; but it certainly is not satisfactory; for -although the birds of prey, and those which are not devoured by -others, are comparatively small in number, how is it that none of -_these_ are ever found? Once in a season, perhaps, we may find a dead -crow, or a dead owl (generally one that has been shot), but who ever -finds hawks, ravens, kites, sparrow-hawks, or any number of crows, out -of all the annual mortality that must occur in their colonies? These -birds are for the most part too large for the sexton beetle to bury; -and, quickly as the foxes, stoats, weasels, and other prowling -creatures would nose out the savoury remains, or the newly-fallen -bodies, these creatures only inhabit certain localities--and dead -birds may be supposed to fall in many places. Still, they are not -seen. - -A pair of robins built their nest in the old ivy of a garden wall, and -the hen shortly afterward sat in maternal pride upon four eggs. The -gardener came to clip the ivy; and, not knowing of the nest, his -shears cut off a part of it, so that the four eggs fell to the ground. -Dropping on leaves, they were not broken. Notice being attracted by -the plaintive cries of the hen bird, the eggs were restored to the -nest, which the gardener repaired. The robins returned, the hen sat -upon the eggs, and in a few days they were hatched. Shortly afterward -the four little ones were all found lying upon the ground beneath, -cold, stiff, and lifeless. The gardener's repairs of the nest had not -been according to the laws of bird-architecture, and a gap had broken -out. The four unfledged little ones were taken into the house, and, -efforts being made to revive them by warmth, they presently showed -signs of life, recovered, and were again restored to the nest. The gap -was filled up by stuffing a small piece of drugget into it. The parent -robins, perched in a neighboring tree, watched all these operations, -without displaying any alarm for the result, and, as soon as they were -completed, returned to the nest. All went on well for a day or two: -but misfortune seemed never weary of tormenting this little family. A -violent shower of rain fell. The nest being exposed, by the close -clipping of the ivy leaves, the drugget got sopped, the rain half -filled the nest, and the gardener found the four little ones lying -motionless in the water. Once more they were taken away, dried near -the fire, and placed in the nest of another bird fixed in a tree -opposite the ivy. The parent birds in a few minutes occupied the nest, -and never ceased their attentions until the brood were able to fly, -and take care of themselves. - -The story we have already related of Diedrik Müller's lion, is -surpassed by another of a similar kind, which we take to be about the -best lion-story that zoological records can furnish. - -A hunter, in the wilds of Africa, had seated himself on a bank near a -pool, to rest, leaving his gun, set upright against a rock, a few feet -behind him. He was alone. Whether he fell asleep, or only into a -reverie, he did not know, but suddenly he saw an enormous lion -standing near him, attentively observing him. Their eyes met, and thus -they remained, motionless, looking at each other. At length the hunter -leaned back, and slowly extended his arm toward his gun. The lion -instantly uttered a deep growl, and advanced nearer. The hunter -paused. After a time, he very gradually repeated the attempt, and -again the lion uttered a deep growl, the meaning of which was not to -be mistaken. This occurred several times (as in the former case), -until the man was obliged to desist altogether. Night approached; the -lion never left him the whole night. Day broke; the lion still was -there, and remained there the whole day. The hunter had ceased to make -any attempt to seize his gun, and saw that his only hope was to weary -the lion out by the fortitude of a passive state, however dreadful the -situation. All the next night the lion remained. The man, worn out for -want of sleep, dared not to close his eyes, lest the lion, believing -him to be dead, should devour him. All the provision in his wallet was -exhausted. The third night arrived. Being now utterly exhausted, and -having dropped off to sleep, several times, and as often come back to -consciousness with a start of horror at finding he had been asleep, he -finally sunk backward, and lay in a dead slumber. He never awoke till -broad day, and then found that the lion was gone. - -On the question of "best" stories of animals, there are so many -excellent stories of several species that the superlative degree may -be hard to determine. Setting down the above, however, as the best -lion-story, we will give what we consider to be (up to this time) the -best elephant-story. In one of the recent accounts of scenes of Indian -warfare (the title of the book has escaped us, and perhaps we met with -the narrative in a printed letter), a body of artillery was described -as proceeding up a hill, and the great strength of elephants was found -highly advantageous in drawing up the guns. On the carriage of one of -these guns, a little in front of the wheel, sat an artilleryman, -resting himself. An elephant, drawing another gun, was advancing in -regular order close behind. Whether from falling asleep, or -over-fatigue, the man fell from his seat, and the wheel of the -gun-carriage, with its heavy gun, was just rolling over him. The -elephant comprehending the danger, and seeing that he could not reach -the body of the man with his trunk, seized the wheel by the top, and, -lifting it up, passed it carefully over the fallen man, and set it -down on the other side. - -The best dog-story--though there are a number of best stories of this -honest fellow--we fear is an old one; but we can not forbear telling -it, for the benefit of those who may not have met with it before. A -surgeon found a poor dog, with his leg broken. He took him home, set -it, and in due time gave him his liberty. Off he ran. Some months -afterward the surgeon was awoke in the night by a dog barking loudly -at his door. As the barking continued, and the surgeon thought he -recognized the voice, he got up, and went down stairs. When he opened -the door, there stood his former patient, wagging his tail, and by his -side another dog--a friend whom he had brought--who had also had the -misfortune to get a leg broken. There is another dog-story of a -different kind, told by Mr. Jenyns, which we think very amusing. A -poodle, belonging to a gentleman in Cheshire, was in the habit of -going to church with his master, and sitting with him in the pew -during the whole service. Sometimes his master did not come; but this -did not prevent the poodle, who always presented himself in good time, -entered the pew, and remained sitting there alone: departing with the -rest of the congregation. One Sunday, the dam at the head of a lake in -the neighborhood gave way, and the whole road was inundated. The -congregation was therefore reduced to a few individuals, who came from -cottages close at hand. Nevertheless, by the time the clergyman had -commenced reading the Psalms, he saw his friend the poodle come slowly -up the aisle, dripping with water: having been obliged to swim above a -quarter of a mile to get to church. He went into his pew, as usual, -and remained quietly there to the end of the service. This is told on -the authority of the clergyman himself. - -A hungry jackdaw once took a fancy to a young chicken which had only -recently been hatched. He pounced upon it accordingly, and was -carrying it off, when the hen rushed upon him, and beat him with her -wings, and held him in her beak, until the cock came up, who -immediately attacked the jackdaw, and struck him so repeatedly that he -was scarcely able to effect his escape by flight. But the best -hen-story is one in Mr. Jenyns' "Observations." A hen was sitting on a -number of eggs to hatch them. An egg was missing every night; yet -nobody could conjecture who had stolen it. One morning, after several -had been lost in this way, the hen was discovered with ruffled -feathers, a bleeding breast, and an inflamed countenance. By the side -of the nest was seen the dead body of a large rat, whose skull had -been fractured--evidently by blows from the beak of the valiant hen, -who could endure the vile act of piracy no longer. - -Mr. Jenyns relates a good owl-story. He knew a tame owl, who was so -fond of music that he would enter the drawing-room of an evening, and, -perching on the shoulder of one of the children, listen with great -attention to the tones of the piano-forte: holding his head first on -one side, then on the other, after the manner of connoisseurs. One -night, suddenly, spreading his wings, as if unable to endure his -rapture any longer, he alighted on the keys, and, driving away the -fingers of the performer with his beak, began to hop about upon the -keys himself, apparently in great delight with his own execution. This -pianist's name was _Keevie_. He was born in the woods of -Northumberland, and belonged to a friend of the Reverend Mr. Jenyns. - -Good bear-stories are numerous. One of the best we take from the -"Zoological Anecdotes." At a hunt in Sweden, an old soldier was -charged by a bear. His musket missed fire, and the animal being close -upon him, he made a thrust, in the hope of driving the muzzle of his -piece down the bear's throat. But the thrust was parried by one of -huge paws with all the skill of a fencer, and the musket wrested from -the soldier's hand, who was forthwith laid prostrate. He lay quiet, -and the bear, after smelling, thought he was dead, and then left him -to examine the musket. This he seized by the stock, and began to knock -about, as though to discover wherein its virtue consisted, when the -soldier could not forbear putting forth one hand to recover his -weapon. The bear immediately seized him by the back of the head, and -tore his scalp over his crown, so that it fell over the soldier's -face. Notwithstanding his agony, the poor fellow restrained his cries, -and again pretended death. The bear laid himself upon his body, and -thus remained, until some hunters coming up relieved him from this -frightful situation. As the poor fellow rose, he threw back his scalp -with his hand, as though it had been a peruke, and ran frantically -toward them, exclaiming--"The bear! the bear!" So intense was his -apprehension of his enemy, that it made him oblivious of his bodily -anguish. He eventually recovered, and received his discharge in -consequence of his loss of hair. There is another bear-story in this -work, which savors--just a little--of romance. A powerful bull was -attacked by a bear in a forest, when the bull succeeded in striking -both horns into his assailant, and pinning him to a tree. In this -situation they were both found dead--the bear, of his wounds; the bull -(either fearing, or, from obstinate self-will, refusing, to relinquish -his position of advantage) of starvation! - -The beat cat-and-mouse story (designated "Melancholy Accident--a Cat -killed by a Mouse") is to be found in "The Poor Artist," the author of -which seems to have derived the story from a somewhat questionable -source, though we must admit the possibility. "A cat had caught a -mouse on a lawn, and let it go again, in her cruel way, in order to -play with it; when the mouse, inspired by despair, and seeing only one -hole possible to escape into--namely, the round red throat of the cat, -very visible through her open mouth--took a bold spring into her jaws, -just escaping between her teeth, and into her throat he struggled and -stuffed himself; and so the cat was suffocated." It reads plausibly; -let us imagine it was true. - -The best spider-and-fly story we also take from the last-named book. -"A very strong, loud, blustering fellow of a blue-bottle fly bounced -accidentally into a spider's web. Down ran the old spider, and threw -her long arms round his neck; but he fought, and struggled, and blew -his drone, and fuzzed, and sung sharp, and beat, and battered, and -tore the web in holes--and so got loose. The spider would not let go -her hold round him--and _the fly flew away with the spider_!" This is -related on the authority of Mr. Thomas Bell, the naturalist, who -witnessed the heroic act. - - - - -A MISER'S LIFE AND DEATH. - - -This is Harrow Weal Common; and a lovely spot it is. Time was when the -whole extent lay waste, or rather covered with soft herbage and wild -flowers, where the bee sought her pasture, and the lark loved to hide -her nest. But since then, cultivation has trenched on much of Harrow -Weal. Cottages have risen, and small homesteads tell of security and -abundance. It is pleasant to look upon them from this rising ground; -to follow the windings of the broad stream, with pastures on either -side, where sheep and cattle graze. Look narrowly toward yonder group -of trees, and that slight elevation of the ground covered with wild -chamomile; if the narrator who told concerning the miser of Harrow -Weal Common has marked the spot aright, that mound and flowers are -associated with the history of one whose profitless life affords a -striking instance of the withering effects of avarice. - -On that spot stood the house of Daniel Dancer; miserable in the -fullest conception of the word: desolate and friendless, for no bright -fire gleamed in winter on the old man's hearthstone; nor yet in -spring, when all nature is redolent of bliss, did the confiding -sparrow build her nest beside his thatch. The walls of his solitary -dwelling were old and lichen-dotted; ferns sprung from out their -fissures, and creeping ivy twined through the shattered window-panes. -A sapling, no one knew how, had vegetated in the kitchen; its broken -pavement afforded a free passage, and, as time went on, the sapling -acquired strength, pushing its tall head through the damp and -mouldering ceiling; then, catching more of air and light, it went -upward to the roof, and, finding that the tiles were off and part of -the rafters broken, that same tree looked forth in its youth and -vigor, throwing its branches wide, and serving, as years passed on, to -shelter the inmates of the hut. - -Other trees grew round; unpruned and thickly-tangled rank grass sprang -up wherever the warm sunbeams found an entrance; and as far as the eye -could reach, appeared a wilderness of docks and brambles, with huge -plantains and giant thistles, inclosed with a boundary hedge of such -amazing height as wholly to exclude all further prospect. - -Eighty acres of good land belonged to Dancer's farm. An ample stream -once held its winding course among them, but becoming choked at the -further end with weeds and fallen leaves, and branches broken by the -wind, it spread into a marsh, tenanted alike by the slow, creeping -blind-worm, and water-newt, the black slug, and frogs of portentous -size. The soil was rich, and would have yielded abundantly; the -timber, too, was valuable, for some of the finest oaks, perhaps, in -the kingdom grew upon the farm; but the cultivation of the one, and -the culling of the other, was attended with expense, and both were -consequently left uncared for. - -In the centre of this lone and wretched spot, dwelt the miserable -Dancer and his sister, alike in their habits and penuriousness. The -sister never went from home; the brother rarely, except to sell his -hay. He had some acres of fine meadow-land, upon which the brambles -had not trenched, and his attention was exclusively devoted to keeping -them clear of weeds. Having no other occupation, the time of -hay-harvest seems to have been the only period at which his mind was -engrossed with business, and this too was rendered remarkable by the -miser's laying aside his habits of penuriousness--scarcely any -gentleman in the neighborhood gave his mowers better beer, or in -greater quantity; but at no other time was the beverage of our Saxon -ancestors found within his walls. - -Some people thought that the old man was crazed; but those who knew -him spoke well of his intelligence. As his father had been before him, -so was he; his mantle had descended in darkness and in fullness on all -who bore his name, and while that of Daniel Dancer was perhaps the -most familiar, his three brothers were equally penurious. One sordid -passion absorbed their every faculty; they loved money solely and -exclusively for its own sake, not for the pleasures it could procure, -nor yet because of the power it bestowed, but for the love of -hoarding. - -When the father of Daniel Dancer breathed his last, there was reason -to believe that a large sum, amounting to some thousands, was -concealed on the premises. This conjecture occasioned his son no small -uneasiness, not so much from the fear of loss, as from the -apprehension lest his brothers should find the treasure and divide it -among themselves. Dancer, therefore, kept the matter as much as -possible to himself. He warily and secretly sought out every hole and -corner, thrusting his skinny hand into many a deserted mouse-hole, and -examining every part of the chimney. Vain were all his efforts, till -at length, on removing an old grate, he discovered about two hundred -pounds, in gold and bank-notes, between two pewter dishes. Much more -undoubtedly there was, but the rest remained concealed. - -Strange beings were Dancer and his sister to look upon. The person of -the old man was generally girt with a hay-band, in order to keep -together his tattered garments; his stockings were so darned and -patched that nothing of the original texture remained; they were girt -about in cold and wet weather with strong bands of hay, which served -instead of boots, and his hat having been worn for at least thirteen -years, scarcely retained a vestige of its former shape. Perhaps the -most wretched vagabond and mendicant that ever crossed Harrow Weal -Common was more decently attired than this miserable representative of -an ancient and honorable house. - -The sister possessed an excellent wardrobe, consisting not only of -wearing apparel, but table linen, and twenty-four pair of good sheets; -she had also clothes of various kinds, and abundance of plate -belonging to the family, but every thing was stowed away in chests. -Neither the brother nor the sister had the disposition or the heart to -enjoy the blessings that were liberally given them; and hence it -happened that Dancer was rarely seen, and that his sister scarcely -ever quitted her obscure abode. - -The interior of the dwelling well befitted its occupants. Furniture, -and that of a good description, had formerly occupied a place within -the walls, but every article had long since been carefully secluded -from the light, all excepting two antique bedsteads which could not -readily be removed. These, however, neither Dancer nor his sister -could be prevailed to occupy; they preferred sleeping on sacks stuffed -with hay, and covered with horse-rugs. Nor less miserable was their -daily fare. Though possessed of at least ten thousand pounds, they -lived on cold dumplings, hard as stone, and made of the coarsest meal; -their only beverage was water; their sole fire a few sticks gathered -on the common, although they had abundance of wood, and noble trees -that required lopping. - -Thus they lived, isolated from mankind, while around them the -desolation of their paternal acres, and the rank luxuriance of weeds -and brambles, presented a mournful emblem of their condition. Talents, -undoubtedly they had; kindly tempers in early life, which might have -conduced to the well-being of society. Daniel especially possessed -many admirable qualities, with good sense and native integrity; his -manners, too, though unpolished by intercourse with the world, were at -one time both frank and courteous, but all and each were absorbed by -one master passion--sordid avarice took possession of his soul, and -rendered him the most despicable of men. - -At length Dancer's sister died. They had lived together for many -years, similar in their penuriousness, though little, perhaps, of -natural affection subsisted between them. The sister was possessed of -considerable wealth, which she left to her brother. The old man -greatly rejoiced at its acquisition; he resolved, in consequence, that -her funeral should not disgrace the family, and accordingly contracted -with an undertaker to receive timber in exchange for a coffin, rather -than to part with gold. - -Lady Tempest, who resided in the neighborhood, compassionating the -wretched condition of an aged woman, sick, and destitute of even -pauper comforts, had the poor creature conveyed to her house. Every -possible alleviation was afforded, and medical assistance immediately -obtained; but they came too late. The disease, which proceeded -originally from want, proved mortal, and the victim of sordid avarice -was borne unlamented to her grave. - -There was crowding on the funeral day beside the road that led to Lady -Tempest's. People came trooping from far and near, with a company of -boys belonging to Harrow School, thoughtless, and amused with the -strangeness of a spectacle which might rather have excited feelings of -sorrow and commiseration. First came a coffin of the humblest kind, -containing the emaciated corpse of one who had possessed ample -wealth--a woman to whom had been committed the magnificent gift of -life, fair talents, and health, with faculties for appropriating each -to the glory of Him who gave them, but who, on dying, had no soothing -retrospect of life, no thankfulness for having been the instrument of -good to others, no hope beyond the grave. Behind that coffin, as -chief-mourner, followed the brother, unbeloved, and heedless of all -duties either to God or man--a miserable being; the possessor of many -thousands, yet too sordid to purchase even decent mourning. It was -only by the importunate entreaties of his relatives that he consented -to unbind the hay-bands with which his legs were covered, and to put -on a second-hand pair of black worsted stockings. His coat was of a -whitish brown color, his waistcoat had been black about the middle of -the last century, and the covering of his head was a nondescript kind -of wig, which had descended to him as an heirloom. Thus attired, and -followed and attended by a crowd whom curiosity had drawn together, -went on old Daniel and the coffin of his sister toward the place of -its sojourn. When there, the horse's girth gave way, for they were -past all service, and the brother was suddenly precipitated into his -sister's grave; but the old man escaped unhurt. The service proceeded; -and slowly into darkness and forgetfulness went down the remains of -his miserable counterpart. - -One friend, however, remained to the miser--and this was Lady Tempest. -That noble-minded woman had given a home to the sister, and sought by -every possible means to alleviate her sufferings; now also, when the -object of her solicitude was gone, she endeavored to inspire the -brother with better feelings, and to ameliorate his miserable -condition. This kindly notice by Lady Tempest, while it soothed his -pride, served also to lessen the sufferings and sorrows of his -declining age; and so far did her representations prevail, that, -having given him a comfortable bed, she actually induced him to throw -away the sack on which he slept for years. Nay, more, he took into his -service a man of the name of Griffith, and allowed him an ample supply -of food, but neither cat nor dog purred or watched beneath his roof; -he had no kindliness of heart to bestow upon them, nor occasion for -their services, for he still continued to live on crusts and -fragments; even when Lady Tempest sent him better fare, he could -hardly be prevailed to partake of it. - -In his boyish days, he possessed, it might be, some natural feelings -of affection toward his kind; but as years passed on, and his sordid -avarice increased, he manifested the utmost aversion for his brother, -who rivaled himself in penury and wealth, and still continued to -pasture sheep on the same common. To his niece, however, he once -presented a guinea, on the birth of a daughter, but this he made -conditional, she was either to name the child Nancy, after his mother, -or forfeit the whole sum. - -Still, with that strange contrariety which even the most penurious -occasionally present, gleams of kindness broke forth at intervals, as -sunbeams on a stony waste. He was known secretly to have assisted -persons whose modes of life and appearance were infinitely superior to -his own; and though parsimonious in the extreme, he was never guilty -of injustice, or accused of attempting to overreach his neighbors. He -was also a second Hampden in defending the rights and privileges of -those who were connected with his locality. While old Daniel lived, no -infringements were permitted on Harrow Weal Common; he heeded neither -the rank nor wealth of those who attempted to act unjustly, but, -putting himself at the head of the villagers, he resisted such -aggressions with uniform success. On one occasion, also, having been -reluctantly obliged to prosecute a horse-stealer at Aylesbury, he set -forth with one of his neighbors on an unshod steed, with a mane and -tail of no ordinary growth, a halter for a bridle, a sack instead of a -saddle. Thus equipped, he went on, till, having reached the principal -inn at Aylesbury, the miser addressed his companion, saying, - -"Pray, sir, go into the house and order what you please, and live like -a gentleman, I will settle for it readily; but as regards myself, I -must go on in my old way." - -His friend entreated him to take a comfortable repast, but this he -steadily refused. A penny-worth of bread sufficed for his meal, and at -night he slept under his horse's manger; but when the business that -brought him to Aylesbury was ended, he paid fifteen shillings, the -amount of his companion's bill, with the utmost cheerfulness. - -Grateful too, he was, as years went on, to Lady Tempest for her -unwearied kindness, and he resolved to leave her the wealth which he -had accumulated. His sister, too, expressed the same wish; and when, -after six months of continued attention from that lady, Miss Dancer -found her end approach, she instructed her brother to give their -benefactress an acknowledgment from the one thousand six hundred -pounds which she had concealed in an old tattered petticoat. - -"Not a penny of that money," said old Dancer, unceremoniously to his -sister. "Not a penny as yet. The good lady shall have the whole when I -am gone." - -At length the time came when the old man must be gone; when his -desolate abode and neglected fields should bear witness no longer -against him. Few particulars are known concerning his death. The fact -alone is certain, that the evening before his departure, he dispatched -a messenger to Lady Tempest requesting to see her ladyship, and that, -being gratified by her arrival, he expressed great satisfaction. -Finding himself somewhat better, his attachment to the hoarded pelf, -which he valued even more than the only friend he had on earth, -overcame the resolution he had formed of giving her his will; and -though his hand was scarcely able to perform its functions, he took -hold of the precious document and replaced it in his bosom. - -The next morning he became worse, and again did the same kind lady -attend the old man's summons; when, having confided to her keeping the -title-deeds of wealth which he valued more than life, his hand -suddenly became convulsed, his head sunk upon the pillow, and the -miser breathed his last. - -The house in which he died, and where he first drew breath, exhibited -a picture of utter desolation. Those who crossed the threshold stood -silent, as if awe-struck. Yet that miserable haunt contained the -hoarded wealth of years. Gold and silver coins were dug up on the -ground-floor; plate and table-linen, with clothes of every -description, were found locked up in chests; large bowls, filled with -guineas and half-guineas came to light, with parcels of bank-notes -stuffed under the covers of old chairs. Some hundred-weights of -waste-paper, the accumulation of half a century, were also discovered; -and two or three tons of old iron, consisting of nails and -horse-shoes, which the miser had picked up. - -Strange communings had passed within the walls--sordid, yet bitter -thoughts, the crushing of all kindly yearnings toward a better state -of mind. The outer conduct of the man was known, but the internal -conflict between good and evil remains untold. - -Nearly sixty-four years have elapsed since the miser and his sister -passed from among the living. Perchance some lichen-dotted stone, if -carefully sought for and narrowly examined, may give the exact period -of their death, but, as yet, no record of the kind has been -discovered. Collateral testimonies, however, go far to prove that the -death of the miser took place about the year 1775, and that his sister -died a few months previous. - - - - -RESULTS OF AN ACCIDENT.--THE GUM SECRET. - - -In journeying from Dublin westward, by the banks of the Liffey, we -pass the village of Chapelizod, and hamlet of Palmerstown. The -water-power of the Liffey has attracted manufacturers at different -times, who with less or greater success, but, unfortunately, with a -general ill-success, have established works there. Paper-making, -starch-making, cotton-spinning and weaving, bleaching and printing of -calicoes, have been attempted. But all have been in turn abandoned, -though occasionally renewed by some new firm or private adventurer. -Into the supposed causes of failure it is not here necessary to -inquire. The manufacture of starch has survived several disasters. - -The article British gum, which is now so extensively used by -calico-printers, by makers-up of stationery, by the Government in -postage-stamp making, and in various industrial arts, was first made -at Chapelizod. Its origin and history are somewhat curious. - -The use of potatoes in the starch factories excited the vehement -opposition of the people, whose chief article of food was thus -consumed and enhanced in price. These factories were several times -assailed by angry multitudes, and on more than one occasion set on -fire by means never discovered. The fires were not believed to have -been always accidental. - -On the fifth of September, 1821, George the Fourth, on his return to -England from visiting Ireland, embarked at Dunleary harbor, near -Dublin. On that occasion the ancient Irish name of Dunleary was -blotted out, and in honor of the royal visit that of Kingston was -substituted. In the evening the citizens of Dublin sat late in taverns -and at supper parties. Loyalty and punch abounded. In the midst of -their revelry a cry of "fire" was heard. They ran to the streets, and -some, following the glare and the cries, found the fire at a starch -manufactory near Chapelizod. The stores not being of a nature to burn -rapidly, were in great part saved from the fire, but they were so -freely deluged with water, that the starch was washed away in streams -ankle-deep over the roadways and lanes into the Liffey. - -Next morning one of the journeymen block-printers--whose employment -was at the Palmerstown print-works, but who lodged at Chapelizod--woke -with a parched throat and headache. He asked himself where he had -been. He had been seeing the King away; drinking, with thousands more, -Dunleary out of, and Kingston into, the map of Ireland. Presently, his -confused memory brought him a vision of a fire: he had a thirsty sense -of having been carrying buckets of water; of hearing the hissing of -water on hot iron floors; of the clanking of engines, and shouts of -people working the pumps, and of himself tumbling about with the rest -of the mob, and rolling over one another in streams of liquefied -wreck, running from the burning starch stores. - -He would rise, dress, go out, inquire about the fire, find his -shopmates, and see if it was to be a working day, or once again a -drinking day. He tried to dress; but--a--hoo!--his clothes were gummed -together. His coat had no entrance for his arms until the sleeves were -picked open, bit by bit; what money he had left was glued into his -pockets; his waistcoat was tightly buttoned up with--what? Had he been -bathing with his clothes on, in a sea of gum-arabic--that costly -article used in the print-works? - -This man was not the only one whose clothes were saturated with gum. -He and four of his shopmates held a consultation, and visited the -wreck of the starch factory. In the roadway, the starch, which, in a -hot, calcined state, had been watered by the fire-engines the night -before, was now found by them lying in soft, gummy lumps. They took -some of it home; they tested it in their trade; they bought starch at -a chandler's shop, put it in a frying-pan, burned it to a lighter or -darker brown, added water, and at last discovered themselves masters -of an article, which, if not gum itself, seemed as suitable for their -trade as gum-arabic, and at a fraction of the cost. - -It was their own secret; and, could they have conducted their future -proceedings as discreetly as they made their experiments, they might -have realized fortunes, and had the merit of practically introducing -an article of great utility--one which has assisted in the -fortune-making of some of the wealthiest firms in Lancaster (so long -as they held it as a secret), and which now the Government of the -British empire manufacture for themselves. - -Its subsequent history is not less curious than that just related. -Unfortunately for the operative block-printers, who discovered it, -their share in its history is soon told. - -It is said that six of them subscribed money to send one of their -number to Manchester with samples of the new gum for sale; the reply -which he received from drysalters and the managers of print-works, was -either that they would have nothing to do with his samples, or an -admonition to go home for the present, and return when he was sober. -His fellow-workmen, hearing of his non-success and fearing the escape -of the secret, sent another of their number to his aid with more -money. The two had no better success than the one. The remaining four, -after a time, left their work at Dublin, and joined the two in -Manchester. They now tried to sell their secret. Before this was -effected one died; two were imprisoned for a share in some drunken -riots; and all were in extreme poverty. What the price paid for the -secret was, is not likely to be revealed now. Part of it was spent in -a passage to New Orleans, where it is supposed the discoverers of -British gum did not long survive their arrival. - -The secret was not at first worked with success. It passed from its -original Lancashire possessor to a gentleman who succeeded in making -the article of a sufficiently good quality; and at so low a price that -it found a ready introduction in the print-works. But he could not -produce it in large quantity without employing assistants, whom he -feared to trust with a knowledge of a manufacture so simple and so -profitable. In employing men to assist in some parts of the work, and -shutting them out from others, their curiosity, or jealousy, could not -be restrained. On one or two occasions they caused the officers of -Excise to break in upon him when he was burning his starch, under the -allegation that he was engaged in illicit practices. His manufactory -was broken into in the night by burglars, who only wanted to rob him -of his secret. Once the place was maliciously burned down. Other -difficulties, far too numerous for present detail, were encountered. -Still, he produced the British gum in sufficient quantities for it to -yield him a liberal income. At last, in a week of sickness, he was -pressed by the head of a well-known firm of calico-printers for a -supply. He got out of bed; went to his laboratory; had the fire -kindled; put on his vessel of plate-iron; calcined his starch, added -the water, observed the temperature; and all the while held -conversation with his keen-eyed customer, whom he had unsuspectingly -allowed to be present. It is enough to say that this acute -calico-printer never required any more British gum of the -convalescent's making. Gradually the secret spread, although the -original purchaser of it still retained a share of the manufacture. - -When penny postage came into operation, it was at first doubtful -whether adhesive labels could be made sufficiently good and -low-priced, which would not have been the case with gum-arabic. -British gum solved the difficulty; and the manufacturer made a -contract to supply it for the labels. In the second year of his -contract, a rumor was spread, that the adhesive matter on the postage -stamps was a deleterious substance, made of the refuse of fish, and -other disgusting materials. The great British gum secret was then -spread far and wide. The public was extensively informed that the -postage-label poison was made simply of--potatoes. - - - - -MY LITTLE FRENCH FRIEND. - - -Mademoiselle Honorine is a teacher of her own language in a cathedral -town south of the Loire, celebrated for the finest church and the -longest street in France; at least, so say the inhabitants, who have -seen no others. The purest French is supposed to be spoken hereabouts, -and the reputation thus given has for many years attracted hosts of -foreigners anxious to attain the true accent formerly in vogue at the -court of the refined Catherine de Medici. It is true that this extreme -grace of diction and tone is not acknowledged by Parisians; who, when -they had a court, imagined the best French was spoken in the capital -where that court resided; and they have been long in the habit of -sneering at the pretensions of their rivals; who, however, among -foreigners, still keep their middle-age fame. - -Mademoiselle Honorine is not a native of this remarkable town; and the -French she teaches is of a different sort, for she comes from a -far-off province, by no means so remarkable for purity of accent. She -is an Alsatian, and her natal town is no other than Vancouleurs, where -the tree under which Joan of Arc saw angels and became inspired, once -existed. - -As may be imagined, Mademoiselle Honorine is proud of this accident of -birth, and tells with much exultation of having, at the age of -fifteen, some thirty-five years ago, borne the part of La Pucelle in -the grand procession to Domremy, formerly an annual festival. She -relates that she attracted universal attention on that occasion, -chiefly from the circumstance of her hair, which is now of silvery -whiteness, having been equally so then, much to the admiration of all -who beheld her. - -"I was always," she remarks, with satisfied vanity, "celebrated for my -hair, and I had at all times a high color and bright eyes; so that, -though some people preferred the beauty of my sisters, I always got -more partners than they at all our _fêtes_. It is true they all -married, and no one proposed to me, except old Monsieur de Monzon, who -suffered from the gout and a very bad temper; but I had no respect for -his character and though he was rich, and I might have been a -_châtelaine_, instead of such a poor woman as I am, still I refused -him, for I preferred my liberty; and that, also, was the reason I left -my uncle's domain, because I like independence. We used, my aunt, my -uncle, and I, to spend most of our time at his country place, going -out every day lark-catching, which we did with looking-glasses: they -held the glasses and lured the birds, while I was ready with the net -to throw over them. My uncle, however, was always scolding me for -talking and frightening the birds away; so I got tired of this -amusement and of the dependence in which I lived." - -The independence preferred by Mademoiselle Honorine to lark-catching -and snubbing, consists in giving lessons to the English. As, of late, -we islanders have been as hard to catch as the victims of the -looking-glasses, her occupation is not lucrative; and although she -sometimes devotes her energies to the arts, in the form of twisted -colored paper tortured into the semblance of weeping willows, and -nondescript flowers, yet these specimens of ingenuity do not bring in -a very large revenue. In fact, her income, when I knew her, could not -be considered enormous; for, to pay house-rent, board, washing, and -sundry little expenses, she possessed twelve francs a month: yet with -these resources, nevertheless, she contrived to do more benevolent and -charitable acts than any person I ever met with. She has always -halfpence for the poor's bag at church--always farthings for certain -regular pensioners, who expect her donation as she passes them, at -their begging stations, on her way to her pupils. Moreover, on -New-year's day, she has always the means of making the prettiest -presents to a friend who for years has shown her countenance, and put -little gains in her way. - -She obtains six francs per month from a couple of pupils, whose merit -is as great in receiving, as hers in giving lessons. These are two -young workwomen who desire to improve their education, and daily -devote to study the only unoccupied hour they possess. From six -o'clock till seven, Mademoiselle Honorine, therefore, on her return -from the five o'clock mass--which she never misses--calls at the -garret of these devotees, and imparts her instruction in reading and -writing to the zealous aspirants for knowledge. - -"I would not," she says, "miss their lessons for the world; because, -you see, I have thus always an eye upon their conduct, and have an -opportunity of throwing in a little good advice, and making them read -good books." - -As these young damsels go out to their work directly after the lesson -is over--taking breakfast at a late hour in the day--Mademoiselle -Honorine provides herself, before starting to the five o'clock mass, -with a bit of dry bread, which she puts in her pocket, ready to eat -when the moment of hunger arrives. She never allows herself any other -breakfast; and, as she drinks only cold water, no expenditure of fuel -is necessary for this in her establishment. Except it occurs to any of -her pupils--few of whom are much richer than her earliest-served--to -offer her some refreshment to lighten her labors, Mademoiselle -Honorine contrives to walk, and talk, and laugh, and be amusing on an -empty stomach, till dinner-time, when she is careful to provide -herself with an apple and another slice of bread, which she enjoys in -haste, and betakes herself to other occupations, chiefly -unremunerative--such as visiting a sick neighbor, reading to a blind -friend, or taking a walk on the fashionable promenade with an infirm -invalid, who requires the support of an arm. - -Fire in France is an expensive luxury which she economizes--not that -she indulges, when forced to allow herself in comfort, in much besides -turf or pine-cones, with perhaps a sprinkling of fagot-wood if a -friend calls in. She is able, however, to keep a little canary in a -cage, who is her valued companion; and she nourishes, besides, several -little productive plants in pots, such as violets and résida; chiefly, -it must be owned, with a view of having the means of making floral -offerings, on birthdays and christenings, to her very numerous -acquaintances. - -She is never seen out of spirits, and is welcomed as an object of -interest whenever she flits along with her round, rosy, smiling face, -shrined in braids of white hair, and set off with a smart -fashionable-shaped bonnet; for she likes being in the fashion, and is -proud of the slightness of her waist, which her polka shows to -advantage. The strings of her bonnet, and the ribbons and buttons of -her dress, are sometimes very fresh, and her mittens are sometimes -very uncommon: this she is particular about, as she shows her hands a -good deal in accompanying herself on the guitar, which she does with -much taste, for her ear is very good and her voice has been musical. -There are few things Mademoiselle Honorine can not do to be useful. -She can play at draughts and dominos, can knit or net, knowing all the -last new patterns; her satin stitch is neatness itself. It is -suspected that she turns some of these talents to advantage; but that -is a secret, as she considers it more dignified to be known only as a -teacher. - -She had a curious set of pupils when I became acquainted with her. -Those whom I knew were English; who were, rather late in their career, -endeavoring to become proficients in a tongue positively necessary for -economical, useful, or sentimental purposes, as the case might be, but -which in more early days they had not calculated on requiring. - -They were of those who encourage late ambition-- - - "And from the dregs of life think to receive - What the first sprightly running could not give." - -The first of these was a bachelor of some fifty-five, formerly a -medical practitioner, now retired, and living in a lively lodging, in -a _premier_ that overlooked the Loire; which reflected back so much -sun from its broad surface on a bright winter's day, that the -circumstance greatly diminished his expenses in the dreaded article of -fuel--a consideration with both natives and foreigners. Economy was -strictly practiced by Dr. Drowler. Nevertheless, as he was very -gallant, and loved to pay compliments to his fair young French -friends, whom he did not suspect of laughing at him, he became -desirous of acquiring greater facility in the lighter part of a -language which served him indifferently well in the ordinary concerns -of his bachelor house-keeping. He therefore resolved to take advantage -of the low terms and obliging disposition of Mademoiselle Honorine, -and placed himself on her form. There was much good-will on both -sides, and his instructress declared that she should have felt little -fear of his ultimate success, but for his defective hearing; which -considerably interfered with his appreciation of those shades of -pronunciation which might be necessary to render him capable of -charming the attentive ears of the young ladies, who were on the -tiptoe of expectation to hear what progress he had made in the -language of Jean Jacques Rousseau. - -Another of Mademoiselle Honorine's charges was Mrs. Mumble, a widow of -uncertain age, whose early education had been a good deal left to -nature; and who--her income being small--had sought the banks of the -poetical Loire (in, she told her Somersetshire friends, the south of -France) to make, as she expressed it, "both ends meet." "One lesson a -week at a _franc_," she reflected, "won't ruin me, and I shall soon -get to speak their language as well as the best of 'em." Mademoiselle -Honorine herself would not have despaired of her pupil arriving at -something approaching to this result, could she have got the better of -a certain indistinctness of utterance caused by the loss of several -teeth. - -Miss Dogherty was a third pupil; a young lady of fifty, with very -youthful manners, and a slight figure. She had labored long to acquire -the true "Porris twang," as she termed it; but, finding her efforts -unavailing, she had resolved during her winter in Touraine, to devote -herself to the language, drawing it pure from the source; and agreed -to sacrifice ten francs per month, in order, by daily hours of -devotion, to reach the goal. An inveterate Tipperary accent interfered -slightly with her views, but she hit on an ingenious expedient for -concealing the defect; this was, never to open her mouth to more than -half its size in speaking; and always to utter her English in a broken -manner, which might convey to the stranger the idea of her being a -foreigner. She had her cards printed as Mademoiselle Durté, which made -the illusion complete. - -But these pupils were not to be entirely relied on for producing an -income--Mademoiselle Honorine could scarcely reckon on the advantages -they presented for a continuance, sanguine as she was. In fact, she -may be said to have, as a certainty, only one permanent pupil, whom -she looks upon as her chief stay, and her gratitude for this source of -emolument is such, that she is always ready to evince her sense of its -importance by adopting the character of nursemaid, classical -teacher--although her knowledge of the dead languages is not -extensive--or general governess, approaching the maternal character -the nearer from the compassion she feels for the pretty little orphan -English boy, who lives under the care of an infirm old grandmother. -With this little gentleman, whose domicile is situated about two miles -from her own, at the top of a steep hill, she walks, and talks, and -laughs, and teaches, and enjoys herself so much, that she considers it -but right to reward him for the pleasure he gives her by expending a -few sous every day in sweetmeats for his delectation; this sum making -a considerable gap in the monthly salary his grandmother is able to -afford. However, her disinterestedness is not thrown away here, and I -learn with singular satisfaction that Mademoiselle Honorine having -been detected in the act of devouring her dry crust, by way of -breakfast, and her pupil having won from her the confession that she -never had any other, a cup of hot chocolate was always afterward -prepared and offered to her by the little student as soon as she -entered his study. When I had an opportunity of judging--a fact which -more than once occurred to me--of the capabilities of Mademoiselle -Honorine's appetite, I was gratified, though surprised, to find that -nothing came amiss to her; that she could enjoy any thing in the shape -of fish, flesh, or fowl, and drank a good glass of Bordeaux, or even -Champagne, with singular glee. - -It happened, not long since, that the friend who had revealed to me -the secret of her manner of life, was suddenly called upon to pay a -sum of money on some railway shares she possessed; and, being -unprepared, was lamenting in the presence of Mademoiselle Honorine, -the inconvenience she was put to. - -The next day, the lively little dame appeared with a canvas bag in her -hand, containing no less a sum than five hundred francs. "Here," she -said, smiling, "is the exact sum you want. It is most lucky I should -happen to have as much. I have been collecting it for years; for, you -know, in case of sickness, one likes to avoid being a burden to one's -friends. It is at your service for as long a time as you like, and you -will relieve me from anxiety in taking it into your hands." It was -impossible to refuse the offer; and the good little woman was thus -enabled to repay the many kindnesses she had received, and to add -greatly to her own dignity; of which she is very tenacious. - -"Ah!" said a Parisian lady to her one day, after hearing of her -thousand occupations and privations, "how do you contrive to live; and -what can you care about life? I should have had recourse to charcoal -long ago, if I had been in your situation. Yet you are always laughing -and gay, as if you dined on foie-gras and truffles every day of your -existence!" - -"So I do," replied the little heroine--"at least on what is quite as -good--for I have all I want, all I care about, never owing a sous, and -being a charge to no one. Besides, I have a secret happiness which -nothing can take away; and, when I go into the church of a morning to -mass, I thank God with all my heart for all the blessings he gives me, -and, above all, for the extreme content which makes all the world seem -a paradise of enjoyment. I never know what it is to be dull, and as -for charcoal, I have no objection to it in a foot-warmer, but that is -all the acquaintance I am likely to make with it." - -"Poor soul!" returned the Parisienne, "how I pity you!" - - - - -BLEAK HOUSE.[D] - -BY CHARLES DICKENS. - - [Footnote D: Continued from the June Number.] - - -CHAPTER XI.--OUR DEAR BROTHER. - -A touch on the lawyer's wrinkled hand, as he stands in the dark room, -irresolute, makes him start and say, "What's that?" - -"It's me," returns the old man of the house, whose breath is in his -ear. "Can't you wake him?" - -"No." - -"What have you done with your candle?" - -"It's gone out. Here it is." - -Krook takes it, goes to the fire, stoops over the red embers, and -tries to get a light. The dying ashes have no light to spare, and his -endeavors are vain. Muttering, after an ineffectual call to his -lodger, that he will go down stairs, and bring a lighted candle from -the shop, the old man departs. Mr. Tulkinghorn, for some new reason -that he has, does not await his return in the room, but on the stairs -outside. - -The welcome light soon shines upon the wall, as Krook comes slowly up, -with his green-eyed cat following at his heels. "Does the man -generally sleep like this?" inquires the lawyer, in a low voice. "Hi! -I don't know," says Krook, shaking his head, and lifting his eyebrows. -"I know next to nothing of his habits, except that he keeps himself -very close." - -Thus whispering, they both go in together. As the light goes in, the -great eyes in the shutters, darkening, seem to close. Not so the eyes -upon the bed. - -"God save us!" exclaims Mr. Tulkinghorn. "He is dead!" - -Krook drops the heavy hand he has taken up, so suddenly that the arm -swings over the bedside. - -They look at one another for a moment. - -"Send for some doctor! Call for Miss Flite up the stairs, sir. Here's -poison by the bed! Call out for Flite, will you?" says Krook, with his -lean hands spread out above the body like a vampire's wings. - -Mr. Tulkinghorn hurries to the landing, and calls, "Miss Flite! Flite! -Make haste, here, whoever you are! Flite!" Krook follows him with his -eyes, and, while he is calling, finds opportunity to steal to the old -portmanteau, and steal back again. - -"Run, Flite, run! The nearest doctor! Run!" So Mr. Krook addresses a -crazy little woman, who is his female lodger: who appears and vanishes -in a breath: who soon returns, accompanied by a testy medical man, -brought from his dinner--with a broad snuffy upper lip, and a broad -Scotch tongue. - -"Ey! Bless the hearts o' ye," says the medical man, looking up at -them, after a moment's examination. "He's just as dead as Phairy!" - -Mr. Tulkinghorn (standing by the old portmanteau) inquires if he has -been dead any time. - -"Any time, sir?" says the medical gentleman. "It's probable he wull -have been dead aboot three hours." - -"About that time, I should say," observes a dark young man, on the -other side of the bed. - -"Air you in the maydickle prayfession yourself, sir?" inquires the -first. - -The dark young man says yes. - -"Then I'll just tak' my depairture," replies the other; "for I'm nae -gude here!" With which remark, he finishes his brief attendance, and -returns to finish his dinner. - -The dark young surgeon passes the candle across and across the face, -and carefully examines the law-writer, who has established his -pretensions to his name by becoming indeed No one. - -"I knew this person by sight, very well," says he. "He has purchased -opium of me, for the last year and a half. Was any body present -related to him?" glancing round upon the three bystanders. - -"I was his landlord," grimly answers Krook, taking the candle from the -surgeon's outstretched hand. "He told me once, I was the nearest -relation he had." - -"He has died," says the surgeon, "of an over-dose of opium, there is -no doubt. The room is strongly flavored with it. There is enough here -now," taking an old teapot from Mr. Krook, "to kill a dozen people." - -"Do you think he did it on purpose?" asks Krook. - -"Took the over-dose?" - -"Yes!" Krook almost smacks his lips with the unction of a horrible -interest. - -"I can't say. I should think it unlikely, as he has been in the habit -of taking so much. But nobody can tell. He was very poor, I suppose?" - -"I suppose he was. His room--don't look rich," says Krook; who might -have changed eyes with his cat, as he casts his sharp glance around. -"But I have never been in it since he had it, and he was too close to -name his circumstances to me." - -"Did he owe you any rent?" - -"Six weeks." - -"He will never pay it!" says the young man, resuming his examination. -"It is beyond a doubt that he is indeed as dead as Pharaoh; and to -judge from his appearance and condition, I should think it a happy -release. Yet he must have been a good figure when a youth, and I dare -say good-looking." He says this, not unfeelingly, while sitting on the -bedstead's edge, with his face toward that other face, and his hand -upon the region of the heart. "I recollect once thinking there was -something in his manner, uncouth as it was, that denoted a fall in -life. Was that so?" he continues, looking round. - -Krook replies, "You might as well ask me to describe the ladies whose -heads of hair I have got in sacks down stairs. Than that he was my -lodger for a year and a half, and lived--or didn't live--by -law-writing, I know no more of him." - -During this dialogue, Mr. Tulkinghorn has stood aloof by the old -portmanteau, with his hands behind him, equally removed, to all -appearance, from all three kinds of interest exhibited near the -bed--from the young surgeon's professional interest in death, -noticeable as being quite apart from his remarks on the deceased as an -individual; from the old man's unction; and the little crazy woman's -awe. His imperturbable face has been as inexpressive as his rusty -clothes. One could not even say he has been thinking all this while. -He has shown neither patience nor impatience, nor attention nor -abstraction. He has shown nothing but his shell. As easily might the -tone of a delicate musical instrument be inferred from its case, as -the tone of Mr. Tulkinghorn from _his_ case. - -He now interposes; addressing the young surgeon, in his unmoved, -professional way. - -"I looked in here," he observes, "just before you, with the intention -of giving this deceased man, whom I never saw alive, some employment -at his trade of copying. I had heard of him from my stationer--Snagsby -of Cook's Court. Since no one here knows any thing about him, it might -be as well to send for Snagsby. Ah!" to the little crazy woman, who -has often seen him in Court, and whom he has often seen, and who -proposes, in frightened dumb-show, to go for the law stationer. -"Suppose you do!" - -While she is gone, the surgeon abandons his hopeless investigation, -and covers its subject with the patchwork counterpane. Mr. Krook and -he interchange a word or two. Mr. Tulkinghorn says nothing; but -stands, ever, near the old portmanteau. - -Mr. Snagsby arrives hastily, in his gray coat and his black sleeves. -"Dear me, dear me," he says; "and it has come to this, has it! Bless -my soul!" - -"Can you give the person of the house any information about this -unfortunate creature, Snagsby?" inquires Mr. Tulkinghorn. "He was in -arrears with his rent, it seems. And he must be buried, you know." - -"Well, sir," says Mr. Snagsby, coughing his apologetic cough behind -his hand; "I really don't know what advice I could offer, except -sending for the beadle." - -"I don't speak of advice," returns Mr. Tulkinghorn. "_I_ could -advise--" - -("No one better, sir, I am sure," says Mr. Snagsby, with his -deferential cough.) - -"I speak of affording some clew to his connections, or to where he -came from, or to any thing concerning him." - -"I assure you, sir," says Mr. Snagsby, after prefacing his reply with -his cough of general propitiation, "that I no more know where he came -from, than I know--" - -"Where he has gone to, perhaps," suggests the surgeon, to help him -out. - -A pause. Mr. Tulkinghorn looking at the law-stationer. Mr. Krook, with -his mouth open, looking for somebody to speak next. - -"As to his connections, sir," says Mr. Snagsby, "if a person was to -say to me, 'Snagsby, here's twenty thousand pound down, ready for you -in the Bank of England, if you'll only name one of 'em, I couldn't do -it, sir! About a year and a half ago--to the best of my belief at the -time when he first came to lodge at the present Rag and Bottle Shop--" - -"That was the time!" says Krook, with a nod. - -"About a year and a half ago," says Mr. Snagsby, strengthened, "he -came into our place one morning after breakfast, and, finding my -little woman (which I name Mrs. Snagsby when I use that appellation) -in our shop, produced a specimen of his handwriting, and gave her to -understand that he was in wants of copying work to do, and was--not to -put too fine a point upon it--" a favorite apology for plain-speaking -with Mr. Snagsby, which he always offers with a sort of argumentative -frankness, "hard up! My little woman is not in general partial to -strangers, particular--not to put too fine a point upon it--when they -want any thing. But she was rather took by something about this -person; whether by his being unshaved, or by his hair being in want of -attention, or by what other ladies' reasons, I leave you to judge; and -she accepted of the specimen, and likewise of the address. My little -woman hasn't a good ear for names," proceeds Mr. Snagsby, after -consulting his cough of consideration behind his hand, "and she -considered Nemo equally the same as Nimrod. In consequence of which, -she got into a habit of saying to me at meals, 'Mr. Snagsby, you -haven't found Nimrod any work yet!' or 'Mr. Snagsby, why didn't you -give that eight-and-thirty Chancery folio in Jarndyce, to Nimrod?' or -such like. And that is the way he gradually fell into job-work at our -place; and that is the most I know of him, except that he was a quick -hand, and a hand not sparing of night-work; and that if you gave him -out, say five-and-forty folio on the Wednesday night, you would have -it brought in on the Thursday morning. All of which--" Mr. Snagsby -concludes by politely motioning with his hat toward the bed, as much -as to add, "I have no doubt my honorable friend would confirm, if he -were in a condition to do it." - -"Hadn't you better see," says Mr. Tulkinghorn to Krook, "whether he -had any papers that may enlighten you? There will be an Inquest, and -you will be asked the question. You can read?" - -"No, I can't," returns the old man, with a sudden grin. - -"Snagsby," says Mr. Tulkinghorn, "look over the room for him. He will -get into some trouble or difficulty, otherwise. Being here, I'll wait, -if you make haste; and then I can testify on his behalf, if it should -ever be necessary, that all was fair and right. If you will hold the -candle for Mr. Snagsby, my friend, he'll soon see whether there is any -thing to help you." - -"In the first place, here's an old portmanteau, sir," says Snagsby. - -Ah, to be sure, so there is! Mr. Tulkinghorn does not appear to have -seen it before, though he is standing so close to it, and though there -is very little else, Heaven knows. - -The marine-store merchant holds the light, and the law-stationer -conducts the search. The surgeon leans against a corner of the -chimney-piece; Miss Flite peeps and trembles just within the door. The -apt old scholar of the old school, with his dull black breeches tied -with ribbons at the knees, his large black waistcoat, his long-sleeved -black coat, and his wisp of limp white neck-kerchief tied in the bow -the Peerage knows so well, stands in exactly the same place and -attitude. - -There are some worthless articles of clothing in the old portmanteau; -there is a bundle of pawnbrokers' duplicates, those turnpike tickets -on the road of Poverty, there is a crumpled paper, smelling of opium, -on which are scrawled rough memoranda--as, took, such a day, so many -grains; took, such another day, so many more--begun some time ago, as -if with the intention of being regularly continued, but soon left off. -There are a few dirty scraps of newspapers, all referring to Coroners' -Inquests; there is nothing else. They search the cupboard, and the -drawer of the ink-splashed table. There is not a morsel of an old -letter, or of any other writing, in either. The young surgeon examines -the dress on the law-writer. A knife and some odd halfpence are all he -finds. Mr. Snagsby's suggestion is the practical suggestion after all, -and the beadle must be called in. - -So the little crazy lodger goes for the beadle, and the rest come out -of the room. "Don't leave the cat there!" says the surgeon: "that -won't do!" Mr. Krook therefore drives her out before him; and she goes -furtively down stairs, winding her lithe tail and licking her lips. - -"Good-night!" says Mr. Tulkinghorn; and goes home to Allegory and -meditation. - -By this time the news has got into the court. Groups of its -inhabitants assemble to discuss the thing; and the outposts of the -army of observation (principally boys) are pushed forward to Mr. -Krook's window, which they closely invest. A policeman has already -walked up to the room, and walked down again to the door, where he -stands like a tower, only condescending to see the boys at his base -occasionally; but whenever he does see them, they quail and fall back. -Mrs. Perkins, who has not been for some weeks on speaking terms with -Mrs. Piper, in consequence of an unpleasantness originating in young -Perkins having "fetched" young Piper "a crack," renews her friendly -intercourse on this auspicious occasion. The pot-boy at the corner, -who is a privileged amateur, as possessing official knowledge of life, -and having to deal with drunken men occasionally, exchanges -confidential communications with the policeman, and has the appearance -of an impregnable youth, unassailable by truncheons and unconfinable -in station-houses. People talk across the court out of window, and -bare-headed scouts come hurrying in from Chancery Lane to know what's -the matter. The general feeling seems to be that it's a blessing Mr. -Krook warn't made away with first, mingled with a little natural -disappointment that he was not. In the midst of this sensation, the -beadle arrives. - -The beadle, though generally understood in the neighborhood to be a -ridiculous institution, is not without a certain popularity for the -moment, if it were only as a man who is going to see the body. The -policeman considers him an imbecile civilian, a remnant of the -barbarous watchmen-times; but gives him admission, as something that -must be borne with until Government shall abolish him. The sensation -is heightened, as the tidings spread from mouth to mouth that the -beadle is on the ground, and has gone in. - -By-and-by the beadle comes out, once more intensifying the sensation, -which has rather languished in the interval. He is understood to be in -want of witnesses, for the Inquest to-morrow, who can tell the Coroner -and Jury any thing whatever respecting the deceased. Is immediately -referred to innumerable people who can tell nothing whatever. Is made -more imbecile by being constantly informed that Mrs. Green's son "was -a law-writer his-self, and knowed him better than any body"--which son -of Mrs. Green's appears, on inquiry, to be at the present time aboard -a vessel bound for China, three months out, but considered accessible -by telegraph, on application to the Lords of the Admiralty. Beadle -goes into various shops and parlors, examining the inhabitants; always -shutting the door first, and by exclusion, delay, and general idiotcy, -exasperating the public. Policeman seen to smile to potboy. Public -loses interest, and undergoes re-action. Taunts the beadle, in shrill, -youthful voices, with having boiled a boy; choruses fragments of a -popular song to that effect, and importing that the boy was made into -soup for the workhouse. Policeman at last finds it necessary to -support the law, and seize a vocalist; who is released upon the flight -of the rest, on condition of his getting out of this then, come! and -cutting it--a condition he immediately observes. So the sensation dies -off for the time; and the unmoved policeman (to whom a little opium, -more or less, is nothing), with his shining hat, stiff stock, -inflexible great-coat, stout belt and bracelet, and all things -fitting, pursues his lounging way with a heavy tread: beating the -palms of his white gloves one against the other, and stopping now and -then at a street-corner, to look casually about for any thing between -a lost child and a murder. - -Under cover of the night, the feeble-minded beadle comes flitting -about Chancery Lane with his summonses, in which every Juror's name is -wrongly spelt, and nothing is rightly spelt, but the beadle's own name -which nobody can read or wants to know. His summonses served, and his -witnesses forewarned, the beadle goes to Mr. Krook's, to keep a small -appointment he has made with certain paupers; who, presently -arriving, are conducted up-stairs; where they leave the great eyes in -the shutter something new to stare at, in that last shape which -earthly lodgings take for No one--and for Every one. - -And, all that night, the coffin stands ready by the old portmanteau; -and the lonely figure on the bed, whose path in life has lain through -five-and-forty years, lies there, with no more track behind him, that -any one can trace, than a deserted infant. - -Next day the court is all alive--is like a fair, as Mrs. Perkins, more -than reconciled to Mrs Piper, says, in amicable conversation with that -excellent woman. The coroner is to sit in the first-floor room at the -Sol's Arms, where the Harmonic Meetings take place twice a week, and -where the chair is filled by a gentleman of professional celebrity, -faced by little Swills, the comic vocalist, who hopes (according to -the bill in the window) that his friends will rally round him and -support first-rate talent. The Sol's Arms does a brisk stroke of -business all the morning. Even children so require sustaining, under -the general excitement, that a pieman, who has established himself for -the occasion at the corner of the court, says his brandy-balls go off -like smoke. What time the beadle, hovering between the door of Mr. -Krook's establishment and the door of the Sol's Arms, shows the -curiosity in his keeping to a few discreet spirits, and accepts the -compliment of a glass of ale or so in return. - -At the appointed hour arrives the Coroner, for whom the Jurymen are -waiting, and who is received with a salute of skittles from the good -dry skittle-ground attached to the Sol's Arms. The Coroner frequents -more public-houses than any man alive. The smell of sawdust, beer, -tobacco-smoke, and spirits, is inseparable in his vocation from death -in its most awful shapes. He is conducted by the beadle and the -landlord to the Harmonic Meeting Room, where he puts his hat on the -piano, and takes a Windsor-chair at the head of a long table, formed -of several short tables put together, and ornamented with glutinous -rings in endless involutions, made by pots and glasses. As many of the -Jury as can crowd together at the table sit there. The rest get among -the spittoons and pipes, or lean against the piano. Over the Coroner's -head is a small iron garland, the pendant handle of a bell, which -rather gives the Majesty of the Court the appearance of going to be -hanged presently. - -Call over and swear the Jury! While the ceremony is in progress, -sensation is created by the entrance of a chubby little man in a -large shirt-collar, with a moist eye, and an inflamed nose, who -modestly takes a position near the door as one of the general public, -but seems familiar with the room too. A whisper circulates that this -is little Swills. It is considered not unlikely that he will get up an -imitation of the Coroner, and make it the principal feature of the -Harmonic Meeting in the evening. - -"Well, gentlemen--" the Coroner begins. - -"Silence there, will you!" says the beadle. Not to the Coroner, though -it might appear so. - -"Well, gentlemen!" resumes the Coroner. "You are impaneled here, to -inquire into the death of a certain man. Evidence will be given before -you, as to the circumstances attending that death, and you will give -your verdict according to the--skittles; they must be stopped, you -know, beadle!--evidence, and not according to any thing else. The -first thing to be done, is to view the body." - -"Make way there!" cries the beadle. - -So they go out in a loose procession, something after the manner of a -straggling funeral, and make their inspection in Mr. Krook's back -second floor, from which a few of the Jurymen retire pale and -precipitately. The beadle is very careful that two gentlemen not very -neat about the cuffs and buttons (for whose accommodation he has -provided a special little table near the Coroner, in the Harmonic -Meeting Room), should see all that is to be seen. For they are the -public chroniclers of such inquiries, by the line; and he is not -superior to the universal human infirmity, but hopes to read in print -what "Mooney, the active and intelligent beadle of the district," said -and did; and even aspires to see the name of Mooney is familiarly and -patronizingly mentioned as the name of the Hangman is, according to -the latest examples. - -Little Swills is waiting for the Coroner and Jury on their return. Mr. -Tulkinghorn, also. Mr. Tulkinghorn is received with distinction, and -seated near the Coroner; between that high judicial officer, a -bagatelle board, and the coal-box. The inquiry proceeds. The Jury -learn how the subject of their inquiry died, and learn no more about -him. "A very eminent solicitor is in attendance, gentlemen," says the -Coroner, "who, I am informed, was accidentally present, when discovery -of the death was made; but he could only repeat the evidence you have -already heard from the surgeon, the landlord, the lodger, and the -law-stationer; and it is not necessary to trouble him. Is any body in -attendance who knows any thing more?" - -Mrs. Piper pushed forward by Mrs. Perkins. Mrs. Piper sworn. - -Anastasia Piper, gentlemen. Married woman. Now, Mrs. Piper--what have -you got to say about this? - -Why, Mrs. Piper has a good deal to say, chiefly in parenthesis and -without punctuation, but not much to tell. Mrs. Piper lives in the -court (which her husband is a cabinet-maker) and it has long been well -beknown among the neighbors (counting from the day next but one before -the half-baptizing of Alexander James Piper aged eighteen months and -four days old on accounts of not being expected to live such was the -sufferings gentlemen of that child in his gums) as the Plaintive--so -Mrs. Piper insists on calling the deceased--was reported to have sold -himself. Thinks it was the Plaintive's air in which that report -originatinin. See the Plaintive often, and considered as his air was -feariocious, and not to be allowed to go about some children being -timid (and if doubted hoping Mrs. Perkins may be brought forard for -she is here and will do credit to her husband and herself and family). -Has seen the Plaintive wexed and worrited by the children (for -children they will ever be and you can not expect them specially if of -playful dispositions to be Methoozellers which you was not yourself). -On accounts of this and his dark looks has often dreamed as she see -him take a pick-ax from his pocket and split Johnny's head (which the -child knows not fear and has repeatually called after him close at his -heels). Never however see the plaintive take a pick-ax or any other -wepping far from it. Has seen him hurry away when run and called after -as if not partial to children and never see him speak to neither child -nor grown person at any time (excepting the boy that sweeps the -crossing down the lane over the way round the corner which if he was -here would tell you that he has been seen a speaking to him frequent). - -Says the Coroner, is that boy here? Says the beadle, no, sir, he is -not here. Says the Coroner, go and fetch him, then. In the absence of -the active and intelligent, the Coroner converses with Mr. -Tulkinghorn. - -O! Here's the boy, gentlemen! - -Here he is, very muddy, very hoarse, very ragged. Now, boy!--But stop -a minute. Caution. This boy must be put through a few preliminary -paces. - -Name, Jo. Nothing else that he knows on. Don't know that every body -has two names. Never heerd of sich a thing. Don't know that Jo is -short for a longer name. Thinks it long enough for _him_. _He_ don't -find no fault with it. Spell it? No. _He_ can't spell it. No father, -no mother, no friends. Never been to school. What's home? Knows a -broom's a broom, and knows it's wicked to tell a lie. Don't recollect -who told him about the broom, or about the lie, but knows both. Can't -exactly say what'll be done to him arter he's dead if he tells a lie -to the gentlemen here, but believes it'll be something wery bad to -punish him, and serve him right--and so he'll tell the truth. - -"This won't do, gentlemen!" says the Coroner, with a melancholy shake -of the head. - -"Don't you think you can receive his evidence, sir?" asks an attentive -Juryman. - -"Out of the question," says the Coroner. "You have heard the boy. -'Can't exactly say' won't do, you know. We can't take _that_, in a -Court of Justice, gentlemen. It's terrible depravity. Put the boy -aside." - -Boy put aside; to the great edification of the audience;--especially -of Little Swills, the Comic Vocalist. - -Now. Is there any other witness? No other witness. - -Very well, gentlemen! Here's a man unknown, proved to have been in the -habit of taking opium in large quantities for a year and a half, -found dead of too much opium. If you think you have any evidence to -lead you to the conclusion that he committed suicide, you will come to -that conclusion. If you think it is a case of accidental death, you -will find a Verdict accordingly. - -Verdict Accordingly. Accidental death. No doubt. Gentlemen, you are -discharged. Good afternoon. - -While the Coroner buttons his great coat, Mr. Tulkinghorn and he give -private audience to the rejected witness in a corner. - -That graceless creature only knows that the dead man (whom he -recognized just now by his yellow face and black hair) was sometimes -hooted and pursued about the streets. That one cold winter night, when -he, the boy, was shivering in a doorway near his crossing, the man -turned to look at him, and came back, and, having questioned him and -found that he had not a friend in the world, said, "Neither have I. -Not one!" and gave him the price of a supper and a night's lodging. -That the man had often spoken to him since; and asked him whether he -slept sound at night, and how he bore cold and hunger, and whether he -ever wished to die; and similar strange questions. That when the man -had no money, he would say in passing, "I am as poor as you to-day, -Jo;" but that when he had any he had always (as the boy most heartily -believes) been glad to give him some. - -"He wos wery good to me," says the boy, wiping his eyes with his -wretched sleeve. "Wen I see him a layin' so stritched out just now, I -wished he could have heerd me tell him so. He wos wery good to me, he -wos!" - -As he shuffles down stairs, Mr. Snagsby, lying in wait for him, puts a -half-crown in his hand. "If ever you see me coming past your crossing -with my little woman--I mean a lady--" says Mr. Snagsby, with his -finger on his nose, "don't allude to it!" - -For some little time the Jurymen hang about the Sol's Arms -colloquially. In the sequel, half a dozen are caught up in a cloud of -pipe-smoke that pervades the parlor of the Sol's Arms; two stroll to -Hampstead: and four engage to go half-price to the play at night, and -top up with oysters. Little Swills is treated on several hands. Being -asked what he thinks of the proceedings, characterizes them (his -strength lying in a slangular direction) as "a rummy start." The -landlord of the Sol's Arms, rinding Little Swills so popular, commends -him highly to the Jurymen and public; observing that, for a song in -character, he don't know his equal, and that that man's -character-wardrobe would fill a cart. - -Thus, gradually the Sol's Arms melts into the shadowy night, and then -flares out of it strong in gas. The Harmonic Meeting hour arriving, -the gentleman of professional celebrity takes the chair; is faced -(red-faced) by Little Swills; their friends rally round them, and -support first-rate talent. In the zenith of the evening, Little Swills -says, Gentlemen, if you'll permit me, I'll attempt a short -description of a scene of real life that came off here to-day. Is much -applauded and encouraged; goes out of the room as Swills; comes in as -the Coroner (not the least in the world like him); describes the -Inquest, with recreative intervals of piano-forte accompaniment to the -refrain--With his (the Coroner's) tippy tol li doll, tippy tol lo -doll, tippy tol li doll, Dee! - -The jingling piano at last is silent, and the Harmonic friends rally -round their pillows. Then there is rest around the lonely figure, now -laid in its last earthly habitation; and it is watched by the gaunt -eyes in the shutters through some quiet hours of night. If this -forlorn man could have been prophetically seen lying here, by the -mother at whose breast he nestled, a little child, with eyes upraised -to her loving face, and soft hand scarcely knowing how to close upon -the neck to which it crept, what an impossibility the vision would -have seemed! O, if, in brighter days, the now-extinguished fire within -him ever burned for one woman who held him in her heart, where is she, -while these ashes are above the ground! - -It is any thing but a night of rest at Mr. Snagsby's, in Cook's Court; -where Guster murders sleep, by going, as Mr. Snagsby himself -allows--not to put too fine a point upon it--out of one fit into -twenty. The occasion of this seizure is, that Guster has a tender -heart, and a susceptible something that possibly might have been -imagination, but for Tooting and her patron saint. Be it what it may, -now, it was so direfully impressed at tea-time by Mr. Snagsby's -account of the inquiry at which he had assisted, that at supper-time -she projected herself into the kitchen preceded by a flying -Dutch-cheese, and fell into a fit of unusual duration: which she only -came out of to go into another, and another, and so on through a chain -of fits, with short intervals between, of which she has pathetically -availed herself by consuming them in entreaties to Mrs. Snagsby not to -give her warning "when she quite comes to;" and also in appeals to the -whole establishment to lay her down on the stones, and go to bed. -Hence, Mr. Snagsby, at last hearing the cock at the little dairy in -Cursitor-street go into that disinterested ecstasy of his on the -subject of daylight, says, drawing a long breath, though the most -patient of men, "I thought you was dead, I am sure!" - -What question this enthusiastic fowl supposes he settles when he -strains himself to such an extent, or why he should thus crow (so men -crow on various triumphant public occasions, however) about what can -not be of any moment to him, is his affair. It is enough that daylight -comes, morning comes, noon comes. - -Then the active and intelligent, who has got into the morning papers -as such, comes with his pauper company to Mr. Krook's and bears off -the body of our dear brother here departed, to a hemmed-in -church-yard, pestiferous and obscene, whence malignant diseases are -communicated to the bodies of our dear brothers and sisters who have -not departed; while our dear brothers and sisters who hang about -official backstairs--would to Heaven they _had_ departed!--are very -complacent and agreeable. Into a beastly scrap of ground which a Turk -would reject as a savage abomination, and a Caffre would shudder at, -they bring our dear brother here departed, to receive Christian -burial. - -With houses looking on, on every side, save where a reeking little -tunnel of a court gives access to the iron gate--with every villainy -of life in action close on death, and every poisonous element of death -in action close on life--here, they lower our dear brother down a foot -or two: here, sow him in corruption, to be raised in corruption; an -avenging ghost at many a sick-bedside; a shameful testimony to future -ages, how civilization and barbarism walked this boastful island -together. - -Come night, come darkness, for you can not come too soon, or stay too -long, by such a place as this! Come, straggling lights into the -windows of the ugly houses; and you who do iniquity therein, do it at -least with this dread scene shut out! Come, flame of gas, burning so -sullenly above the iron gate, on which the poisoned air deposits its -witch-ointment slimy to the touch! It is well that you should call to -every passer-by, "Look here!" - -With the night, comes a slouching figure through the tunnel-court, to -the outside of the iron gate. It holds the gate with its hands, and -looks in between the bars; stands looking in, for a little while. - -It then, with an old broom it carries, softly sweeps the step, and -makes the archway clean. It does so, very busily and trimly; looks in -again, a little while; and so departs. - -Jo, is it thou? Well, well! Though a rejected witness, who "can't -exactly say" what will be done to him in greater hands than men's, -thou art not quite in outer darkness. There is something like a -distant ray of light in thy muttered reason for this: - -"He wos wery good to me, he wos!" - - -CHAPTER XII.--ON THE WATCH. - -It has left off raining down in Lincolnshire, at last, and Chesney -Wold has taken heart. Mrs. Rouncewell is full of hospitable cares, for -Sir Leicester and my Lady are coming home from Paris. The fashionable -intelligence has found it out, and communicates the glad tidings to -benighted England. It has also found out, that they will entertain a -brilliant and distinguished circle of the _élite_ of the _beau monde_ -(the fashionable intelligence is weak in English, but a -giant-refreshed in French), at the ancient and hospitable family seat -in Lincolnshire. - -For the greater honor of the brilliant and distinguished circle, and -of Chesney Wold into the bargain, the broken arch of the bridge in the -park is mended; and the water, now retired within its proper limits -and again spanned gracefully, makes a figure in the prospect from the -house. The clear cold sunshine glances into the brittle woods, and -approvingly beholds the sharp wind scattering the leaves and drying -the moss. It glides over the park after the moving shadows of the -clouds, and chases them, and never catches them, all day. It looks in -at the windows, and touches the ancestral portraits with bars and -patches of brightness, never contemplated by the painters. Athwart the -picture of my Lady, over the great chimney-piece, it throws a broad -bend-sinister of light that strikes down crookedly into the hearth, -and seems to rend it. - -Through the same cold sunshine and the same sharp wind, my Lady and -Sir Leicester, in their traveling chariot (my Lady's woman, and Sir -Leicester's man affectionate in the rumble), start for home. With a -considerable amount of jingling and whip-cracking, and many plunging -demonstrations on the part of two bare-backed horses, and two Centaurs -with glazed hats, jack-boots, and flowing manes and tails, they rattle -out of the yard of the Hôtel Bristol in the Place Vendôme, and canter -between the sun-and-shadow-checkered colonnade of the Rue de Rivoli -and the garden of the ill-fated palace of a headless king and queen, -off by the Place of Concord, and the Elysian Fields, and the Gate of -the Star, out of Paris. - -Sooth to say, they can not go away too fast, for, even here, my Lady -Dedlock has been bored to death. Concert, assembly, opera, theatre, -drive, nothing is new to my Lady, under the worn-out heavens. Only -last Sunday, when poor wretches were gay--within the walls, playing -with children among the clipped trees and the statues in the Palace -Garden; walking, a score abreast, in in the Elysian Fields, made more -Elysian by performing dogs and wooden horses; between whiles filtering -(a few) through the gloomy Cathedral of Our Lady, to say a word or two -at the base of a pillar, within flare of a rusty little gridiron-full -of gusty little tapers--without the walls encompassing Paris with -dancing, love-making, wine-drinking, tobacco-smoking, tomb-visiting, -billiard card and domino playing, quack-doctoring, and much murderous -refuse, animate and inanimate--only last Sunday, my Lady in the -desolation of Boredom and the clutch of Giant Despair, almost hated -her own maid for being in spirits. - -She can not, therefore, go too fast from Paris. Weariness of soul lies -before her, as it lies behind--her Ariel has put a girdle of it round -the whole earth, and it can not be unclasped--but the imperfect remedy -is always to fly, from the last place where it has been experienced. -Fling Paris back into the distance, then, exchanging it for endless -avenues and cross-avenues of wintry trees! And, when next beheld, let -it be some leagues away, with the Gate of the Star a white speck -glittering in the sun, and the city a mere mound in a plain: two dark -square towers rising out of it, and light and shadow descending on it -aslant, like the angels in Jacob's dream! - -Sir Leicester is generally in a complacent state, and rarely bored. -When he has nothing else to do, he can always contemplate his own -greatness. It is a considerable advantage to a man to have so -inexhaustible a subject. After reading his letters, he leans back in -his corner of the carriage, and generally reviews his importance to -society. - -"You have an unusual amount of correspondence this morning?" says my -Lady, after a long time. She is fatigued with reading. Has almost read -a page in twenty miles. - -"Nothing in it, though. Nothing whatever." - -"I saw one of Mr. Tulkinghorn's long effusions, I think?" - -"You see every thing," says Sir Leicester, with admiration. - -"Ha!" sighs my Lady. "He is the most tiresome of men!" - -"He sends--I really beg your pardon--he sends," says Sir Leicester, -selecting the letter, and unfolding it, "a message to you. Our -stopping to change horses, as I came to his postscript, drove it out -of my memory. I beg you'll excuse me. He says--" Sir Leicester is so -long in taking out his eye-glass and adjusting it, that my Lady looks -a little irritated. "He says 'In the matter of the right of way--' I -beg your pardon, that's not the place. He says--yes! Here I have it! -He says, 'I beg my respectful compliments to my Lady, who, I hope, has -benefited by the change. Will you do me the favor to mention (as it -may interest her), that I have something to tell her on her return, in -reference to the person who copied the affidavit in the Chancery suit, -which so powerfully stimulated her curiosity. I have seen him.'" - -My Lady, leaning forward, looks out of her window. - -"That's the message," observes Sir Leicester. - -"I should like to walk a little," says my Lady, still looking out of -her window. - -"Walk?" repeats Sir Leicester, in a tone of surprise. - -"I should like to walk a little," says my Lady, with unmistakable -distinctness. "Please to stop the carriage." - -The carriage is stopped, the affectionate man alights from the rumble, -opens the door, and lets down the steps, obedient to an impatient -motion of my Lady's hand. My Lady alights so quickly, and walks away -so quickly, that Sir Leicester, for all his scrupulous politeness, is -unable to assist her, and is left behind. A space of a minute or two -has elapsed before he comes up with her. She smiles, looks very -handsome, takes his arm, lounges with him for a quarter of a mile, is -very much bored, and resumes her seat in the carriage. - -The rattle and clatter continue through the greater part of three -days, with more or less of bell-jingling and whip-cracking, and more -or less plunging of Centaurs and bare-backed horses. Their courtly -politeness to each other, at the Hotels where they tarry, is the theme -of general admiration. Though my Lord is a little aged for my Lady, -says Madame, the hostess of the Golden Ape, and though he might be her -amiable father, one can see at a glance that they love each other. -One observes my Lord with his white hair, standing, hat in hand, to -help my Lady to and from the carriage. One observes my Lady, how -recognizant of my Lord's politeness, with an inclination of her -gracious head, and the concession of her so-genteel fingers! It is -ravishing! - -The sea has no appreciation of great men, but knocks them about like -the small fry. It is habitually hard upon Sir Leicester, whose -countenance it greenly mottles in the manner of sage-cheese, and in -whose aristocratic system it effects a dismal revolution. It is the -Radical of Nature to him. Nevertheless, his dignity gets over it, -after stopping to refit; and he goes on with my Lady for Chesney Wold, -lying only one night in London on the way to Lincolnshire. - -Through the same cold sunlight--colder as the day declines--and -through the same sharp wind--sharper as the separate shadows of bare -trees gloom together in the woods, and as the Ghost's Walk, touched at -the western corner by a pile of fire in the sky, resigns itself to -coming night--they drive into the park. The Rooks, swinging in their -lofty houses in the elm-tree avenue, seem to discuss the question of -the occupancy of the carriage as it passes underneath; some agreeing -that Sir Leicester and my Lady are come down; some arguing with -malcontents who won't admit it; now, all consenting to consider the -question disposed of; now, all breaking out again in violent debate, -incited by one obstinate and drowsy bird, who will persist in putting -in a last contradictory croak. Leaving them to swing and caw, the -traveling chariot rolls on to the house; where fires gleam warmly -through some of the windows, though not through so many as to give an -inhabited expression to the darkening mass of front. But the brilliant -and distinguished circle will soon do that. - -Mrs. Rouncewell is in attendance, and receives Sir Leicester's -customary shake of the hand with a profound courtesy. - -"How do you do, Mrs. Rouncewell? I am glad to see you." - -"I hope I have the honor of welcoming you in good health, Sir -Leicester?" - -"In excellent health, Mrs. Rouncewell." - -"My Lady is looking charmingly well," says Mrs. Rouncewell, with -another courtesy. - -My Lady signifies, without profuse expenditure of words, that she is -as wearily well as she can hope to be. - -But Rosa is in the distance, behind the housekeeper; and my Lady, who -has not subdued the quickness of her observation, whatever else she -may have conquered, asks: - -"Who is that girl?" - -"A young scholar of mine, my Lady. Rosa." - -"Come here, Rosa!" Lady Dedlock beckons her, with even an appearance -of interest. "Why, do you know how pretty you are, child?" she says, -touching her shoulder with her two forefingers. - -Rosa, very much abashed, says "No, if you please, my Lady!" and -glances up, and glances down, and don't know where to look, but looks -all the prettier. - -"How old are you?" - -"Nineteen, my Lady." - -"Nineteen," repeats my Lady, thoughtfully. "Take care they don't spoil -you by flattery." - -"Yes, my Lady." - -My Lady taps her dimpled cheek with the same delicate gloved fingers, -and goes on to the foot of the oak staircase, where Sir Leicester -pauses for her as her knightly escort. A staring old Dedlock in a -panel, as large as life and as dull, looks as if he didn't know what -to make of it--which was probably his general state of mind in the -days of Queen Elizabeth. - -That evening, in the housekeeper's room, Rosa can do nothing but -murmur Lady Dedlock's praises. She is so affable, so graceful, so -beautiful, so elegant; has such a sweet voice, and such a thrilling -touch, that Rosa can feel it yet! Mrs. Rouncewell confirms all this, -not without personal pride, reserving only the one point of -affability. Mrs. Rouncewell is not quite sure as to that. Heaven -forbid that she should say a syllable in dispraise of any member of -that excellent family; above all, of my Lady, whom the whole world -admires; but if my Lady would only be "a little more free," not quite -so cold and distant, Mrs. Rouncewell thinks she would be more affable. - -"'Tis almost a pity," Mrs. Rouncewell adds--only "almost," because it -borders on impiety to suppose that any thing could be better than it -is, in such an express dispensation as the Dedlock affairs; "that my -Lady has no family. If she had had a daughter now, a grown young lady, -to interest her, I think she would have had the only kind of -excellence she wants." - -"Might not that have made her still more proud, grandmother?" says -Watt; who has been home and come back again, he is such a good -grandson. - -"More and most, my dear," returns the housekeeper with dignity, "are -words it's not my place to use--nor so much as to hear--applied to any -drawback on my Lady." - -"I beg your pardon, grandmother. But she is proud, is she not?" - -"If she is, she has reason to be. The Dedlock family have always -reason to be." - -"Well," says Watt, "it's to be hoped they line out of their -Prayer-Books a certain passage for the common people about pride and -vain-glory. Forgive me, grandmother! Only a joke!" - -"Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, my dear, are not fit subjects for -joking." - -"Sir Leicester is no joke, by any means," says Watt; "and I humbly ask -his pardon. I suppose, grandmother, that, even with the family and -their guests down here, there is no objection to my prolonging my stay -at the Dedlock Arms for a day or two, as any other traveler might?" - -"Surely, none in the world, child." - -"I am glad of that," says Watt, "because I--because I have an -inexpressible desire to extend my knowledge of this beautiful -neighborhood." - -He happens to glance at Rosa, who looks down, and is very shy, indeed. -But, according to the old superstition, it should be Rosa's ears that -burn, and not her fresh bright cheeks; for my Lady's maid is holding -forth about her at this moment, with surpassing energy. - -My Lady's maid is a Frenchwoman of two-and-thirty, from somewhere in -the Southern country about Avignon and Marseilles--a large-eyed, brown -woman with black hair; who would be handsome, but for a certain feline -mouth, and general uncomfortable tightness of face, rendering the jaws -too eager, and the skull too prominent. There is something indefinably -keen and wan about her anatomy; and she has a watchful way of looking -out of the corners of her eyes without turning her head, which could -be pleasantly dispensed with--especially when she is in an ill-humor -and near knives. Through all the good taste of her dress and little -adornments, these objections so express themselves, that she seems to -go about like a very neat She-Wolf imperfectly tamed. Besides being -accomplished in all the knowledge appertaining to her post, -she is almost an Englishwoman in her acquaintance with the -language--consequently, she is in no want of words to shower upon Rosa -for having attracted my Lady's attention; and she pours them out with -such grim ridicule as she sits at dinner, that her companion, the -affectionate man, is rather relieved when she arrives at the spoon -stage of that performance. - -Ha, ha, ha! She, Hortense, been in my Lady's service since five years, -and always kept at the distance, and this doll, this puppet, -caressed--absolutely caressed--by my Lady on the moment of her -arriving at the house! Ha! ha! ha! "And do you know how pretty you -are, child?"--"No, my Lady."--You are right there! "And how old are -you, child? And take care they do not spoil you by flattery, child!" O -how droll! It is the _best_ thing altogether. - -In short, it is such an admirable thing, that Mademoiselle Hortense -can't forget it; but at meals for days afterward, even among her -countrywomen and others attached in like capacity to the troop of -visitors, relapses into silent enjoyment of the joke--an enjoyment -expressed in her own convivial manner, by an additional tightness of -face, thin elongation of compressed lips, and sidewise look: which -intense appreciation of humor is frequently reflected in my Lady's -mirrors, when my Lady is not among them. - -All the mirrors in the house are brought into action now: many of them -after a long blank. They reflect handsome faces, simpering faces, -youthful faces, faces of threescore-and-ten that will not submit to be -old; the entire collection of faces that have come to pass a January -week or two at Chesney Wold, and which the fashionable intelligence, a -mighty hunter before the Lord, hunts with a keen scent, from their -breaking cover at the Court of St. James's to their being run down to -Death. The place in Lincolnshire is all alive. By day guns and voices -are heard ringing in the woods, horsemen and carriages enliven the -park-roads, servants and hangers-on pervade the Village and the -Dedlock Arms. Seen by night, from distant openings in the trees, the -row of windows in the long drawing-room, where my Lady's picture hangs -over the great chimney-piece, is like a row of jewels set in a black -frame. On Sunday, the chill little church is almost warmed by so much -gallant company, and the general flavor of the Dedlock dust is -quenched in delicate perfumes. - -The brilliant and distinguished circle comprehends within it, no -contracted amount of education, sense, courage, honor, beauty, and -virtue. Yet there is something a little wrong about it, in despite of -its immense advantages. What can it be? - -Dandyism? There is no King George the Fourth now (more's the pity!) to -set the dandy fashion; there are no clear-starched jack-towel -neckcloths, no short-waisted coats, no false calves, no stays. There -are no caricatures, now, of effeminite Exquisites so arrayed, swooning -in opera boxes with excess of delight, and being revived by other -dainty creatures, poking long-necked scent-bottles at their noses. -There is no beau whom it takes four men at once to shake into his -buckskins, or who goes to see all the Executions, or who is troubled -with the self-reproach of having once consumed a pea. But is there -Dandyism in the brilliant and distinguished circle notwithstanding, -Dandyism of a more mischievous sort, that has got below the surface -and is doing less harmless things than jack-toweling itself and -stopping its own digestion, to which no rational person need -particularly object! - -Why, yes. It can not be disguised. There _are_ at Chesney Wold this -January week, some ladies and gentlemen of the newest fashion, who -have set up a Dandyism--in Religion, for instance. Who, in mere -lackadaisical want of an emotion, have agreed upon a little dandy talk -about the Vulgar wanting faith in things in general; meaning, in the -things that have been tried and found wanting, as though a low fellow -should unaccountably lose faith in a bad shilling, after finding it -out! Who would make the Vulgar very picturesque and faithful, by -putting back the hands upon the Clock of Time, and canceling a few -hundred years of history. - -There are also ladies and gentlemen of another fashion, not so new, -but very elegant, who have agreed to put a smooth glaze on the world, -and to keep down all its relations. For whom every thing must be -languid and pretty. Who have found out the perpetual stoppage. Who are -to rejoice at nothing, and be sorry for nothing. Who are not to be -disturbed by ideas. On whom even the Fine Arts, attending in powder -and walking backward like the Lord Chamberlain, must array themselves -in the milliners' and tailors' patterns of past generations, and be -particularly careful not to be in earnest, or to receive any impress -from the moving age. - -Then there is my Lord Boodle, of considerable reputation with his -party, who has known what office is, and who tells Sir Leicester -Dedlock with much gravity, after dinner, that he really does not see -to what the present age is tending. A debate is not what a debate used -to be; the House is not what the House used to be; even a Cabinet is -not what it formerly was. He perceives with astonishment, that -supposing the present Government to be overthrown, the limited choice -of the Crown, in the formation of a new Ministry, would lie between -Lord Coddle and Sir Thomas Doodle--supposing it to be impossible for -the Duke of Foodle to act with Goodle, which may be assumed to be the -case in consequence of the breach arising out of that affair with -Hoodle. Then, giving the Home Department and the Leadership of the -House of Commons to Joodle, the Exchequer to Koodle, the Colonies to -Loodle, and the Foreign Office to Moodle, what are you to do with -Noodle? You can't offer him the Presidency of the Council; that is -reserved for Poodle. You can't put him in the Woods and Forests; that -is hardly good enough for Quoodle. What follows? That the country is -shipwrecked, lost, and gone to pieces (as is made manifest to the -patriotism of Sir Leicester Dedlock), because you can't provide for -Noodle! - -On the other hand, the Right Honorable William Buffy, M.P., contends -across the table with some one else, that the shipwreck of the -country--about which there is no doubt; it is only the manner of it -that is in question--is attributable to Cuffy. If you had done with -Cuffy what you ought to have done when he first came into Parliament, -and had prevented him from going over to Duffy, you would have got him -into an alliance with Fuffy, you would have had with you the weight -attaching as a smart debater to Guffy, you would have brought to bear -upon the elections the wealth of Huffy, you would have got in for -three counties Juffy, Kuffy, and Luffy; and you would have -strengthened your administration by the official knowledge and the -business habits of Muffy. All this, instead of being, as you now are, -dependent on the mere caprice of Puffy! - -As to this point, and as to some minor topics, there are differences -of opinion; but it is perfectly clear to the brilliant and -distinguished circle, all round, that nobody is in question but Boodle -and his retinue, and Buffy and _his_ retinue. These are the great -actors for whom the stage is reserved. A People there are, no doubt--a -certain large number of supernumeraries, who are to be occasionally -addressed, and relied upon for shouts and choruses, as on the -theatrical stage; but Boodle and Buffy, their followers and families, -their heirs, executors, administrators, and assigns, are the born -first-actors, managers, and leaders, and no others can appear upon the -scene for ever and ever. - -In this, too, there is perhaps more dandyism at Chesney Wold than the -brilliant and distinguished circle will find good for itself in the -long run. For it is, even with the stillest and politest circles, as -with the circle the necromancer draws around him--very strange -appearances may be seen in active motion outside. With this -difference; that, being realities and not phantoms, there is the -greater danger of their breaking in. - -Chesney Wold is quite full, any how; so full, that a burning sense of -injury arises in the breasts of ill-lodged ladies' maids, and is not -to be extinguished. Only one room is empty. It is a turret chamber of -the third order of merit, plainly but comfortably furnished, and -having an old-fashioned business air. It is Mr. Tulkinghorn's room, -and is never bestowed on any body else, for he may come at any time. -He is not come yet. It is his quiet habit to walk across the park from -the village, in fine weather; to drop into this room, as if he had -never been out of it since he was last seen there; to request a -servant to inform Sir Leicester that he is arrived, in case he should -be wanted; and to appear ten minutes before dinner, in the shadow of -the library door. He sleeps in his turret, with a complaining -flag-staff over his head; and has some leads outside, on which, any -fine morning when he is down here, his black figure may be seen -walking before breakfast like a larger species of rook. - -Every day before dinner, my Lady looks for him in the dusk of the -library, but he is not there. Every day at dinner, my Lady glances -down the table for the vacant place, that would be waiting to receive -him if he had just arrived; but there is no vacant place. Every night, -my Lady casually asks her maid: - -"Is Mr. Tulkinghorn come?" - -Every night the answer is: "No my Lady, not yet." - -One night, while having her hair undressed, my Lady loses herself in -deep thought after this reply, until she sees her own brooding face in -the opposite glass, and a pair of black eyes curiously observing her. - -"Be so good as to attend," says my Lady then, addressing the -reflection of Hortense, "to your business. You can contemplate your -beauty at another time." - -"Pardon! It was your Ladyship's beauty." - -"That," says my Lady, "you needn't contemplate at all." - -At length, one afternoon a little before sunset, when the bright -groups of figures, which have for the last hour or two enlivened the -Ghost's Walk, are all dispersed, and only Sir Leicester and my Lady -remain upon the terrace, Mr. Tulkinghorn appears. He comes toward them -at his usual methodical pace, which is never quickened, never -slackened. He wears his usual expressionless mask--if it be a -mask--and carries family secrets in every limb of his body, and every -crease of his dress. Whether his whole soul is devoted to the great, -or whether he yields them nothing beyond the services he sells, is -his personal secret. He keeps it, as he keeps the secrets of his -clients; he is his own client in that matter, and will never betray -himself. - -"How do you do, Mr. Tulkinghorn?" says Sir Leicester, giving him his -hand. - -Mr. Tulkinghorn is quite well. Sir Leicester is quite well. My Lady is -quite well. All highly satisfactory. The lawyer, with his hands behind -him, walks, at Sir Leicester's side, along the terrace. My Lady walks -upon the other side. - -"We expected you before," says Sir Leicester. A gracious observation. -As much as to say, "Mr. Tulkinghorn, we remember your existence when -you are not here to remind us of it by your presence. We bestow a -fragment of our minds upon you, sir, you see!" - -Mr. Tulkinghorn, comprehending it, inclines his head, and says he is -much obliged. - -"I should have come down sooner," he explains, "but that I have been -much engaged with those matters in the several suits between yourself -and Boythorn." - -"A man of a very ill-regulated mind," observes Sir Leicester, with -severity. "An extremely dangerous person in any community. A man of a -very low character of mind." - -"He is obstinate," says Mr. Tulkinghorn. - -"It is natural to such a man to be so," says Sir Leicester, looking -most profoundly obstinate himself. "I am not at all surprised to hear -it." - -"The only question is," pursues the lawyer, "whether you will give up -anything." - -"No, sir," replies Sir Leicester. "Nothing. _I_ give up?" - -"I don't mean any thing of importance; that, of course, I know you -would not abandon. I mean any minor point." - -"Mr. Tulkinghorn," returns Sir Leicester, "there can be no minor point -between myself and Mr. Boythorn. If I go farther, and observe that I -can not readily conceive how _any_ right of mine can be a minor point, -I speak not so much in reference to myself as an individual, as in -reference to the family position I have it in charge to maintain." - -Mr. Tulkinghorn inclines his head again. "I have now my instructions," -he says. "Mr. Boythorn will give us a good deal of trouble--" - -"It is the character of such a mind, Mr. Tulkinghorn," Sir Leicester -interrupts him, "_to_ give trouble. An exceedingly ill-conditioned, -leveling person. A person who, fifty years ago, would probably have -been tried at the Old Bailey for some demagogue proceeding, and -severely punished--if not," adds Sir Leicester, after a moment's -pause, "if not hanged, drawn, and quartered." - -Sir Leicester appears to discharge his stately breast of a burden, in -passing this capital sentence; as if it were the next satisfactory -thing to having the sentence executed. - -"But night is coming on," says he, "and my Lady will take cold. My -dear, let us go in." - -As they turned toward the hall-door, Lady Dedlock addresses Mr. -Tulkinghorn for the first time. - -"You sent me a message respecting the person whose writing I happened -to inquire about. It was like you to remember the circumstance; I had -quite forgotten it. Your message reminded me of it again. I can't -imagine what association I had with a hand like that; but I surely had -some." - -"You had some?" Mr. Tulkinghorn repeats. - -"Oh, yes!" returns my Lady, carelessly. "I think I must have had some. -And did you really take the trouble to find out the writer of that -actual thing--what is it!--Affidavit?" - -"Yes." - -"How very odd!" - -They pass into a sombre breakfast-room on the ground-floor, lighted in -the day by two deep windows. It is now twilight. The fire glows -brightly on the paneled wall, and palely on the window-glass, where, -through the cold reflection of the blaze, the colder landscape -shudders in the wind, and a gray mist creeps along: the only traveler -besides the waste of clouds. - -My Lady lounges in a great chair in the chimney-corner, and Sir -Leicester takes another great chair opposite. The lawyer stands before -the fire, with his hand out at arm's length, shading his face. He -looks across his arm at my Lady. - -"Yes," he says, "I inquired about the man, and found him. And, what is -very strange, I found him--" - -"Not to be any out-of-the-way person, I am afraid!" Lady Dedlock -languidly anticipates. - -"I found him dead." - -"Oh, dear me!" remonstrated Sir Leicester. Not so much shocked by the -fact, as by the fact of the fact being mentioned. - -"I was directed to his lodging--a miserable, poverty-stricken -place--and I found him dead." - -"You will excuse me, Mr. Tulkinghorn," observes Sir Leicester. "I -think the less said--" - -"Pray, Sir Leicester, let me hear the story out;" (it is my Lady -speaking.) "It is quite a story for twilight. How very shocking! -Dead?" - -Mr. Tulkinghorn re-asserts it by another inclination of his head. -"Whether by his own hand--" - -"Upon my honor!" cries Sir Leicester. "Really!" - -"Do let me hear the story!" says my Lady. - -"Whatever you desire, my dear. But, I must say--" - -"No, you mustn't say! Go on, Mr. Tulkinghorn." - -Sir Leicester's gallantry concedes the point; though he still feels -that to bring this sort of squalor among the upper classes is -really--really-- - -"I was about to say," resumes the lawyer, with undisturbed calmness, -"that whether he had died by his own hand or not, it was beyond my -power to tell you. I should amend that phrase, however, by saying that -he had unquestionably died of his own act; though whether by his own -deliberate intention, or by mischance, can never certainly be known. -The coroner's jury found that he took the poison accidentally." - -"And what kind of man," my Lady asks, "was this deplorable creature?" - -"Very difficult to say," returns the lawyer, shaking his head. "He had -lived so wretchedly, and was so neglected, with his gipsy color, and -his wild black hair and beard, that I should have considered him the -commonest of the common. The surgeon had a notion that he had once -been something better, both in appearance and condition." - -"What did they call the wretched being?" - -"They called him what he had called himself, but no one knew his -name." - -"Not even any one who had attended on him?" - -"No one had attended on him. He was found dead. In fact, I found him." - -"Without any clew to any thing more?" - -"Without any; there was," says the lawyer, meditatively, "an old -portmanteau; but--No, there were no papers." - -During the utterance of every word of this short dialogue, Lady -Dedlock and Mr. Tulkinghorn, without any other alteration in their -customary deportment, have looked very steadily at one another--as was -natural, perhaps, in the discussion of so unusual a subject. Sir -Leicester has looked at the fire, with the general expression of the -Dedlock on the staircase. The story being told, he renews his stately -protest, saying, that as it is quite clear that no association in my -Lady's mind can possibly be traceable to this poor wretch (unless he -was a begging-letter writer), he trusts to hear no more about a -subject so far removed from my Lady's station. - -"Certainly, a collection of horrors," says my Lady, gathering up her -mantles and furs; "but they interest one for the moment! Have the -kindness, Mr. Tulkinghorn, to open the door for me." - -Mr. Tulkinghorn does so with deference, and holds it open while she -passes out. She passes close to him, with her usual fatigued manner, -and insolent grace. They meet again at dinner--again, next day--again, -for many days in succession. Lady Dedlock is always the same exhausted -deity, surrounded by worshipers, and terribly liable to be bored to -death, even while presiding at her own shrine. Mr. Tulkinghorn is -always the same speechless repository of noble confidences: so oddly -out of place, and yet so perfectly at home. They appear to take as -little note of one another, as any two people, inclosed within the -same walls, could. But, whether each evermore watches and suspects the -other, evermore mistrustful of some great reservation; whether each is -evermore prepared at all points for the other, and never to be taken -unawares; what each would give to know how much the other knows--all -this is hidden, for the time, in their own hearts. - - -CHAPTER XIII.--ESTHER'S NARRATIVE. - -We held many consultations about what Richard was to be; first, -without Mr. Jarndyce, as he had requested, and afterward with him; -but it was a long time before we seemed to make progress. Richard said -he was ready for any thing. When Mr. Jarndyce doubted whether he might -not already be too old to enter the Navy, Richard said he had thought -of that, and perhaps he was. When Mr. Jarndyce asked him what he -thought of the Army, Richard said he had thought of that, too, and it -wasn't a bad idea. When Mr. Jarndyce advised him to try and decide -within himself, whether his old preference for the sea was an ordinary -boyish inclination, or a strong impulse, Richard answered, Well, he -really _had_ tried very often, and he couldn't make out. - -"How much of this indecision of character," Mr. Jarndyce said to me, -"is chargeable on that incomprehensible heap of uncertainty and -procrastination on which he has been thrown from his birth, I don't -pretend to say; but that Chancery, among its other sins, is -responsible for some of it, I can plainly see. It has engendered or -confirmed in him a habit of putting off--and trusting to this, that, -and the other chance, without knowing what chance--and dismissing -every thing as unsettled, uncertain, and confused. The character of -much older and steadier people may be even changed by the -circumstances surrounding them. It would be too much to expect that a -boy's, in its formation, should be the subject of such influences, and -escape them." - -I felt this to be true; though, if I may venture to mention what I -thought besides, I thought it much to be regretted that Richard's -education had not counteracted those influences, or directed his -character. He had been eight years at a public school, and had learnt, -I understood, to make Latin Verses of several sorts, in the most -admirable manner. But I never heard that it had been any body's -business to find out what his natural bent was, or where his failings -lay, or to adapt any kind of knowledge to _him_. _He_ had been adapted -to the Verses, and had learnt the art of making them to such -perfection, that if he had remained at school until he was of age, I -suppose he could only have gone on making them over and over again, -unless he had enlarged his education by forgetting how to do it. -Still, although I had no doubt that they were very beautiful, and very -improving, and very sufficient for a great many purposes of life, and -always remembered all through life, I did doubt whether Richard would -not have profited by some one studying him a little, instead of his -studying them quite so much. - -To be sure, I knew nothing of the subject, and do not even now know -whether the young gentlemen of classic Rome or Greece made verses to -the same extent--or whether the young gentlemen of any country ever -did. - -"I haven't the least idea," said Richard, musing, "what I had better -be. Except that I am quite sure I don't want to go into the Church, -it's a toss-up." - -"You have no inclination in Mr. Kenge's way?" suggested Mr. Jarndyce. - -"I don't know that, sir!" replied Richard. "I am fond of boating. -Articled clerks go a good deal on the water. It's a capital -profession!" - -"Surgeon--" suggested Mr. Jarndyce. - -"That's the thing, sir!" cried Richard. - -I doubt if he had ever once thought of it before. - -"That's the thing, sir!" repeated Richard, with the greatest -enthusiasm. "We have got it at last. M.R.C.S.!" - -He was not to be laughed out of it, though he laughed at it heartily. -He said he had chosen his profession, and the more he thought of it, -the more he felt that his destiny was clear; the art of healing was -the art of all others for him. Mistrusting that he only came to this -conclusion, because, having never had much chance of finding out for -himself what he was fitted for, and having never been guided to the -discovery, he was taken by the newest idea, and was glad to get rid of -the trouble of consideration, I wondered whether the Latin Verses -often ended in this, or whether Richard's was a solitary case. - -Mr. Jarndyce took great pains to talk with him, seriously, and to put -it to his good sense not to deceive himself in so important a matter. -Richard was a little grave after these interviews; but invariably told -Ada and me "that it was all right," and then began to talk about -something else. - -"By Heaven!" cried Mr. Boythorn, who interested himself strongly in -the subject--though I need not say that, for he could do nothing -weakly; "I rejoice to find a young gentleman of spirit and gallantry -devoting himself to that noble profession! The more spirit there is in -it, the better for mankind, and the worse for those mercenary -taskmasters and low tricksters who delight in putting that illustrious -art at a disadvantage in the world. By all that is base and -despicable," cried Mr. Boythorn, "the treatment of Surgeons aboard -ship is such, that I would submit the legs--both legs--of every member -of the Admiralty Board to a compound fracture, and render it a -transportable offense in any qualified practitioner to set them, if -the system were not wholly changed in eight-and-forty hours!" - -"Wouldn't you give them a week?" asked Mr. Jarndyce. - -"No!" cried Mr. Boythorn, firmly. "Not on any consideration! -Eight-and-forty hours! As to Corporations, Parishes, Vestry-Boards, -and similar gatherings of jolter-headed clods, who assemble to -exchange such speeches that, by Heaven! they ought to be worked in -quicksilver mines for the short remainder of their miserable -existence, if it were only to prevent their detestable English from -contaminating a language spoken in the presence of the Sun--as to -those fellows, who meanly take advantage of the ardor of gentlemen in -the pursuit of knowledge, to recompense the inestimable services of -the best years of their lives, their long study, and their expensive -education, with pittances too small for the acceptance of clerks, I -would have the necks of every one of them wrung, and their skulls -arranged in Surgeons' Hall for the contemplation of the whole -profession--in order that its younger members might understand from -actual measurement, in early life, _how_ thick skulls may become!" - -He wound up this vehement declaration by looking round upon us with a -most agreeable smile, and suddenly thundering, Ha, ha, ha! over and -over again, until any body else might have been expected to be quite -subdued by the exertion. - -As Richard still continued to say that he was fixed in his choice, -after repeated periods for consideration had been recommended by Mr. -Jarndyce, and had expired; and as he still continued to assure Ada and -me, in the same final manner that it was "all right;" it became -advisable to take Mr. Kenge into council. Mr. Kenge therefore, came -down to dinner one day, and leaned back in his chair, and turned his -eye-glasses over and over, and spoke in a sonorous voice, and did -exactly what I remembered to have seen him do when I was a little -girl. - -"Ah!" said Mr. Kenge. "Yes. Well? A very good profession, Mr. -Jarndyce; a very good profession." - -"The course of study and preparation requires to be diligently -pursued," observed my Guardian, with a glance at Richard. - -"O, no doubt," said Mr. Kenge. "Diligently." - -"But that being the case, more or less, with all pursuits that are -worth much," said Mr. Jarndyce, "it is not a special consideration -which another choice would be likely to escape." - -"Truly," said Mr. Kenge. "And Mr. Richard Carstone, who has so -meritoriously acquitted himself in the--shall I say the classic -shades?--in which his youth had been passed, will, no doubt, apply the -habits, if not the principles and practice, of versification in that -tongue in which a poet was said (unless I mistake) to be born, not -made, to the more eminently practical field of action on which he -enters." - -"You may rely upon it," said Richard, in his off-hand manner, "that I -shall go at it, and do my best." - -"Very well, Mr. Jarndyce!" said Mr. Kenge, gently nodding his head. -"Really, when we are assured by Mr. Richard that he means to go at it, -and to do his best," nodding feelingly and smoothly over those -expressions; "I would submit to you, that we have only to inquire into -the best mode of carrying out the object of his ambition. Now, with -reference to placing Mr. Richard with some sufficiently eminent -practitioner. Is there any one in view at present?" - -"No one, Rick, I think?" said my Guardian. - -"No one, sir," said Richard. - -"Quite so!" observed Mr. Kenge. "As to situation, now. Is there any -particular feeling on that head?" - -"N--no," said Richard. - -"Quite so!" observed Mr. Kenge again. - -"I should like a little variety," said Richard; "--I mean a good range -of experience." - -"Very requisite, no doubt," returned Mr. Kenge "I think this may be -easily arranged, Mr. Jarndyce? We have only, in the first place, to -discover a sufficiently eligible practitioner; and, as soon as we make -our want--and, shall I add, our ability to pay a premium?--known, our -only difficulty will be in the selection of one from a large number. -We have only, in the second place, to observe those little formalities -which are rendered necessary by our time of life, and our being under -the guardianship of the Court. We shall soon be--shall I say, in Mr. -Richard's own light-hearted manner, 'going at it'--to our heart's -content. It is a coincidence," said Mr. Kenge, with a tinge of -melancholy in his smile, "one of those coincidences which may or may -not require an explanation beyond our present limited faculties, that -I have a cousin in the medical profession. He might be deemed eligible -by you, and might be disposed to respond to this proposal. I can -answer for him as little as for you; but he _might_?" - -As this was an opening in the prospect, it was arranged that Mr. Kenge -should see his cousin. And as Mr. Jarndyce had before proposed to take -us to London for a few weeks, it was settled next day that we should -make our visit at once, and combine Richard's business with it. - -Mr. Boythorn leaving us within a week, we took up our abode at a -cheerful lodging near Oxford-street, over an upholsterer's shop. -London was a great wonder to us, and we were out for hours and hours -at a time, seeing the sights; which appeared to be less capable of -exhaustion than we were. We made the round of the principal theatres, -too, with great delight, and saw all the plays that were worth seeing. -I mention this, because it was at the theatre that I began to be made -uncomfortable again, by Mr. Guppy. - -I was sitting in front of the box one night with Ada; and Richard was -in the place he liked best, behind Ada's chair; when, happening to -look down into the pit, I saw Mr. Guppy, with his hair flattened down -upon his head, and woe depicted in his face, looking up at me. I felt, -all through the performance, that he never looked at the actors, but -constantly looked at me, and always with a carefully prepared -expression of the deepest misery and the profoundest dejection. - -It quite spoiled my pleasure for that night, because it was so very -embarrassing and so very ridiculous. But, from that time forth, we -never went to the play, without my seeing Mr. Guppy in the pit--always -with his hair straight and flat, his shirt-collar turned down, and a -general feebleness about him. If he were not there when we went in, -and I began to hope he would not come, and yielded myself for a little -while to the interest of the scene, I was certain to encounter his -languishing eyes when I least expected it, and, from that time, to be -quite sure that they were fixed upon me all the evening. - -I really can not express how uneasy this made me. If he would only -have brushed up his hair, or turned up his collar, it would have been -bad enough; but to know that that absurd figure was always gazing at -me, and always in that demonstrative state of despondency, put such a -constraint upon me that I did not like to laugh at the play, or to cry -at it, or to move, or to speak. I seemed able to do nothing naturally. -As to escaping Mr. Guppy by going to the back of the box, I could not -bear to do that; because I knew Richard and Ada relied on having me -next them, and that they could never have talked together so happily -if any body else had been in my place. So there I sat, not knowing -where to look--for wherever I looked, I knew Mr. Guppy's eyes were -following me--and thinking of the dreadful expense to which this young -man was putting himself, on my account. - -[Illustration: MR. GUPPY'S DESOLATION.] - -Sometimes I thought of telling Mr. Jarndyce. Then I feared that the -young man would lose his situation, and that I might ruin him. -Sometimes, I thought of confiding in Richard; but was deterred by the -possibility of his fighting Mr. Guppy, and giving him black eyes. -Sometimes, I thought, should I frown at him, or shake my head. Then I -felt I could not do it. Sometimes, I considered whether I should write -to his mother, but that ended in my being convinced that to open a -correspondence would be to make the matter worse. I always came to the -conclusion, finally, that I could do nothing. Mr. Guppy's -perseverance, all this time, not only produced him regularly at any -theatre to which we went, but caused him to appear in the crowd as we -were coming out, and even to get up behind our fly--where I am sure I -saw him, two or three times, struggling among the most dreadful -spikes. After we got home, he haunted a post opposite our house. The -upholsterer's where we lodged, being at the corner of two streets, and -my bedroom window being opposite the post, I was afraid to go near the -window when I went up-stairs, lest I should see him (as I did one -moonlight night) leaning against the post, and evidently catching -cold. If Mr. Guppy had not been, fortunately for me, engaged in the -day-time, I really should have had no rest from him. - -While we were making this round of gayeties in which Mr. Guppy so -extraordinarily participated, the business which had helped to bring -us to town was not neglected. Mr. Kenge's cousin was a Mr. Bayham -Badger, who had a good practice at Chelsea, and attended a large -public Institution besides. He was quite willing to receive Richard -into his house, and to superintend his studies; and as it seemed that -those could be pursued advantageously under Mr. Badger's roof, and as -Mr. Badger liked Richard, and as Richard said he liked Mr. Badger -"well enough," an agreement was made, the Lord Chancellor's consent -was obtained, and it was all settled. - -On the day when matters were concluded between Richard and Mr. Badger, -we were all under engagement to dine at Mr. Badger's house. We were to -be "merely a family party," Mrs. Badger's note said; and we found no -lady there but Mrs. Badger herself. She was surrounded in the -drawing-room by various objects, indicative of her painting a little, -playing the piano a little, playing the guitar a little, playing the -harp a little, singing a little, working a little, reading a little, -writing poetry a little, and botanizing a little. She was a lady of -about fifty, I should think, youthfully dressed, and of a very fine -complexion. If I add, to the little list of her accomplishments, that -she rouged a little, I do not mean that there was any harm in it. - -Mr. Bayham Badger himself was a pink, fresh-faced, crisp-looking -gentleman, with a weak voice, white teeth, light hair, and surprised -eyes: some years younger, I should say, than Mrs. Bayham Badger. He -admired her exceedingly, but principally, and to begin with, on the -curious ground (as it seemed to us) of her having had three husbands. -We had barely taken our seats, when he said to Mr. Jarndyce quite -triumphantly. - -"You would hardly suppose that I am Mrs. Bayham Badger's third!" - -"Indeed?" said Mr. Jarndyce. - -"Her third!" said Mr. Badger. "Mrs. Bayham Badger has not the -appearance, Miss Summerson, of a lady who has had two former -husbands?" - -I said "Not at all!" - -"And most remarkable men!" said Mr. Badger, in a tone of confidence. -"Captain Swosser of the Royal Navy, who was Mrs. Badger's first -husband, was a very distinguished officer indeed. The name of -Professor Dingo, my immediate predecessor, is one of European -reputation." - -Mrs. Badger overheard him, and smiled. - -"Yes, my dear!" Mr. Badger replied to the smile, "I was observing to -Mr. Jarndyce and Miss Summerson, that you had had two former -husbands--both very distinguished men. And they found it, as people -generally do, difficult to believe." - -"I was barely twenty," said Mrs. Badger, "when I married Captain -Swosser of the Royal Navy. I was in the Mediterranean with him; I am -quite a Sailor. On the twelfth anniversary of my wedding-day, I became -the wife of Professor Dingo." - -("Of European reputation," added Mr. Badger in an under tone.) - -"And when Mr. Badger and myself were married," pursued Mrs. Badger, -"we were married on the same day of the year. I had become attached to -the day." - -"So that Mrs. Badger has been married to three husbands--two of them -highly distinguished men," said Mr. Badger, summing up the facts; -"and, each time, upon the twenty-first of March at Eleven in the -forenoon!" - -We all expressed our admiration. - -"But for Mr. Badger's modesty," said Mr. Jarndyce, "I would take leave -to correct him, and say three distinguished men." - -"Thank you, Mr. Jarndyce! What I always tell him!" observed Mrs. -Badger. - -"And, my dear," said Mr. Badger, "what do _I_ always tell you? That -without any affectation of disparaging such professional distinction -as I may have attained (which our friend Mr. Carstone will have many -opportunities of estimating), I am not so weak--no, really," said Mr. -Badger to us generally, "so unreasonable--as to put my reputation on -the same footing with such first-rate men as Captain Swosser and -Professor Dingo. Perhaps you may be interested, Mr. Jarndyce," -continued Mr. Bayham Badger, leading the way into the next drawing -room, "in this portrait of Captain Swosser. It was taken on his return -home from the African Station, where he had suffered from the fever of -the country. Mrs. Badger considers it too yellow. But it's a very fine -head. A very fine head!" - -We all echoed, "A very fine head!" - -"I feel when I look at it," said Mr. Badger, "'that's a man I should -like to have seen!' It strikingly bespeaks the first-class man that -Captain Swosser pre-eminently was. On the other side, Professor Dingo. -I knew him well--attended him in his last illness--a speaking -likeness! Over the piano, Mrs. Bayham Badger when Mrs. Swosser. Over -the sofa, Mrs. Bayham Badger when Mrs. Dingo. Of Mrs. Bayham Badger -_in esse_, I possess the original, and have no copy." - -Dinner was now announced, and we went down stairs. It was a very -genteel entertainment, very handsomely served. But the Captain and the -Professor still ran in Mr. Badger's head, and, as Ada and I had the -honor of being under his particular care, we had the full benefit of -them. - -"Water, Miss Summerson? Allow me! Not in that tumbler, pray. Bring me -the Professor's goblet, James!" - -Ada very much admired some artificial flowers, under a glass. - -"Astonishing how they keep!" said Mr. Badger. "They were presented to -Mrs. Bayham Badger when she was in the Mediterranean." - -[Illustration: THE FAMILY PORTRAITS AT MR. BAYHAM BADGER'S.] - -He invited Mr. Jarndyce to take a glass of claret. - -"Not that claret," he said. "Excuse me! This is an occasion, and _on_ -an occasion I produce some very special claret I happen to have. -(James, Captain Swosser's wine!) Mr. Jarndyce, this is a wine that was -imported by the Captain, we will not say how many years ago. You will -find it very curious. My dear, I shall be happy to take some of this -wine with you. (Captain Swosser's claret to your mistress, James!) My -love, your health!" - -After dinner when we ladies retired, we took Mrs. Badger's first and -second husband with us. Mrs. Badger gave us, in the drawing-room a -Biographical sketch of the life and services of Captain Swosser before -his marriage, and a more minute account of him dating from the time -when he fell in love with her, at a ball on board the Crippler, given -to the officers of that ship when she lay in Plymouth harbor. - -"The dear old Crippler!" said Mrs. Badger, shaking her head. "She was -a noble vessel. Trim, ship-shape, all a taunto, as Captain Swosser -used to say. You must excuse me if I occasionally introduce a nautical -expression; I was quite a sailor once. Captain Swosser loved that -craft for my sake. When she was no longer in commission, he frequently -said that if he were rich enough to buy her old hulk, he would have an -inscription let into the timbers of the quarter-deck where we stood as -partners in the dance, to mark the spot where he fell--raked fore and -aft (Captain Swosser used to say) by the fire from my tops. It was his -naval way of mentioning my eyes." - -Mrs. Badger shook her head, sighed, and looked in the glass. - -"It was a great change from Captain Swosser to Professor Dingo," she -resumed, with a plaintive smile. "I felt it a good deal at first. Such -an entire revolution in my mode of life! But custom, combined with -science--particularly science--inured me to it. Being the Professor's -sole companion in his botanical excursions, I almost forgot that I had -ever been afloat, and became quite learned. It is singular that the -Professor was the Antipodes of Captain Swosser, and that Mr. Badger is -not in the least like either!" - -We then passed into a narrative of the deaths of Captain Swosser and -Professor Dingo, both of whom seemed to have had very bad complaints. -In the course of it, Mrs. Badger signified to us that she had never -madly loved but once; and that the object of that wild affection, -never to be recalled in its fresh enthusiasm, was Captain Swosser. The -Professor was yet dying by inches in the most dismal manner, and Mrs. -Badger was giving us imitations of his way of saying, with great -difficulty, "Where is Laura? Let Laura give me my toast and water!" -when the entrance of the gentlemen consigned him to the tomb. - -Now, I observed that evening, as I had observed for some days past, -that Ada and Richard were more than ever attached to each other's -society; which was but natural, seeing that they were going to be -separated so soon. I was therefore not very much surprised, when we -got home, and Ada and I retired up-stairs, to find Ada more silent -than usual; though I was not quite prepared for her coming into my -arms, and beginning to speak to me, with her face hidden. - -"My darling Esther!" murmured Ada. "I have a great secret to tell -you!" - -A mighty secret, my pretty one, no doubt! - -"What is it, Ada?" - -"O Esther, you would never guess!" - -"Shall I try to guess?" said I. - -"O no! Don't! Pray, don't!" cried Ada, very much startled by the idea -of my doing so. - -"Now, I wonder who it can be about?" said I, pretending to consider. - -"It's about," said Ada, in a whisper. "It's about--my cousin Richard!" - -"Well, my own!" said I, kissing her bright hair, which was all I could -see. "And what about him?" - -"O, Esther, you would never guess!" - -It was so pretty to have her clinging to me in that way, hiding her -face; and to know that she was not crying in sorrow, but in a little -glow of joy, and pride, and hope; that I would not help her just yet. - -"He says--I know it's very foolish, we are both so young--but he -says," with a burst of tears, "that he loves me dearly, Esther." - -"Does he indeed?" said I. "I never heard of such a thing! Why, my pet -of pets, I could have told you that, weeks and weeks ago!" - -To see Ada lift up her flushed face in joyful surprise, and hold me -round the neck, and laugh, and cry, and blush, and laugh, was so -pleasant! - -"Why, my darling!" said I, "what a goose you must take me for! Your -cousin Richard has been loving you as plainly as he could, for I don't -know how long!" - -"And yet you never said a word about it!" cried Ada, kissing me. - -"No, my love," said I. "I waited to be told." - -"But now I have told you, you don't think it wrong of me; do you?" -returned Ada. She might have coaxed me to say No, if I had been the -hardest-hearted Duenna in the world. Not being that yet, I said No, -very freely. - -"And now," said I, "I know the worst of it." - -"O, that's not quite the worst of it, Esther dear!" cried Ada, holding -me tighter, and laying down her face again upon my breast. - -"No?" said I. "Not even that?" - -"No, not even that!" said Ada, shaking her head. - -"Why, you never mean to say--!" I was beginning in joke. - -But Ada looking up, and smiling through her tears, cried. "Yes, I do! -You know, you know I do!" and then sobbed out, "With all my heart I -do! With all my whole heart, Esther!" - -I told her, laughing, why, I had known that, too, just as well as I -had known the other! And we sat before the fire, and I had all the -talking to myself for a little while (though there was not much of -it); and Ada was soon quiet and happy. "Do you think my cousin John -knows, dear Dame Durden?" she asked. - -"Unless my cousin John is blind, my pet," said I, "I should think my -cousin John knows pretty well as much as we know." - -"We want to speak to him before Richard goes," said Ada, timidly, "and -we wanted you to advise us, and to tell him so. Perhaps you wouldn't -mind Richard's coming in, Dame Durden?" - -"O! Richard is outside, is he, my dear?" said I. - -"I am not quite certain," returned Ada, with a bashful simplicity that -would have won my heart, if she had not won it long before; "but I -think he's waiting at the door." - -There he was, of course. They brought a chair on either side of me, -and put me between them, and really seemed to have fallen in love with -me, instead of one another; they were so confiding, and so trustful, -and so fond of me. They went on in their own wild way for a little -while--I never stopped them; I enjoyed it too much myself--and then we -gradually fell to considering how young they were, and how there must -be a lapse of several years before this early love could come to any -thing, and how it could come to happiness only if it were real and -lasting, and inspired them with a steady resolution to do their duty -to each other, with constancy, fortitude, and perseverance: each -always for the other's sake. Well! Richard said that he would work his -fingers to the bone for Ada, and Ada said that she would work her -fingers to the bone for Richard, and they called me all sorts of -endearing and sensible names, and we sat there, advising and talking, -half the night. Finally, before we parted, I gave them my promise to -speak to their cousin John to-morrow. - -So, when to-morrow came, I went to my Guardian after breakfast, in the -room that was our town-substitute for the Growlery, and told him that -I had it in trust to tell him something. - -"Well, little woman," said he, shutting up his book, "if you have -accepted the trust, there can be no harm in it." - -"I hope not, Guardian," said I. "I can guarantee that there is no -secresy in it. For it only happened yesterday." - -"Ay? And what is it, Esther?" - -"Guardian," said I, "you remember the happy night when we first came -down to Bleak House? When Ada was singing in the dark room?" - -I wished to recall to his remembrance the look he had given me then. -Unless I am much mistaken, I saw that I did so. - -"Because," said I, with a little hesitation. - -"Yes, my dear!" said he. "Don't hurry." - -"Because," said I, "Ada and Richard have fallen in love. And have told -each other so." - -"Already?" cried my Guardian, quite astonished. - -"Yes!" said I, "and to tell you the truth, Guardian, I rather expected -it." - -"The deuce you did!" said he. - -He sat considering for a minute or two; with his smile, at once so -handsome and so kind, upon his changing face; and then requested me to -let them know that he wished to see them. When they came, he encircled -Ada with one arm, in his fatherly way, and addressed himself to -Richard with a cheerful gravity. - -"Rick," said Mr. Jarndyce, "I am glad to have won your confidence. I -hope to preserve it. When I contemplated these relations between us -four which have so brightened my life, and so invested it with new -interests and pleasures, I certainly did contemplate, afar off, the -possibility of you and your pretty cousin here (don't be shy, Ada, -don't be shy, my dear!) being in a mind to go through life together. I -saw, and do see, many reasons to make it desirable. But that was afar -off, Rick, afar off!" - -"We look afar off, sir," returned Richard. - -"Well!" said Mr. Jarndyce. "That's rational. Now, hear me, my dears! I -might tell you that you don't know your own minds yet; that a thousand -things may happen to divert you from one another; that it is well this -chain of flowers you have taken up is very easily broken, or it might -become a chain of lead. But I will not do that. Such wisdom will come -soon enough, I dare say, if it is to come at all. I will assume that, -a few years hence, you will be in your hearts to one another, what you -are to-day. All I say before speaking to you according to that -assumption is, if you _do_ change--if you _do_ come to find that you -are more commonplace cousins to each other as man and woman, than you -were as boy and girl (your manhood will excuse me, Rick!)--don't be -ashamed still to confide in me, for there will be nothing monstrous or -uncommon in it. I am only your friend and distant kinsman. I have no -power over you whatever. But I wish and hope to retain your -confidence, if I do nothing to forfeit it." - -"I am very sure, sir," returned Richard, "that I speak for Ada, too, -when I say that you have the strongest power over us both--rooted in -respect, gratitude, and affection, strengthening every day." - -"Dear cousin John," said Ada, on his shoulder, "my father's place can -never be empty again. All the love and duty I could ever have rendered -to him, is transferred to you." - -"Come!" said Mr. Jarndyce. "Now for our assumption. Now we lift our -eyes up, and look hopefully at the distance! Rick, the world is before -you; and it is most probable that as you enter it, so it will receive -you. Trust in nothing but in Providence and your own efforts. Never -separate the two, like the heathen wagoner. Constancy in love is a -good thing; but it means nothing, and is nothing, without constancy in -every kind of effort. If you had the abilities of all the great men, -past and present, you could do nothing well, without sincerely meaning -it, and setting about it. If you entertain the supposition that any -real success, in great things or in small, ever was or could be, ever -will or can be, wrested from Fortune by fits and starts, leave that -wrong idea here, or leave your cousin Ada here." - -"I will leave it here, sir," replied Richard, smiling, "if I brought -it here just now (but I hope I did not), and will work my way on to my -cousin Ada in the hopeful distance." - -"Right!" said Mr. Jarndyce. "If you are not to make her happy, why -should you pursue her?" - -"I wouldn't make her unhappy--no, not even for her love," retorted -Richard, proudly. - -"Well said!" cried Mr. Jarndyce; "that's well said! She remains here, -in her home with me. Love her, Rick, in your active life, no less than -in her home when you revisit it, and all will go well. Otherwise, all -will go ill. That's the end of my preaching. I think you and Ada had -better take a walk." - -Ada tenderly embraced him, and Richard heartily shook hands with him, -and then the cousins went out of the room--looking back again -directly, though, to say that they would wait for me. - -The door stood open, and we both followed them with our eyes, as they -passed down the adjoining room on which the sun was shining, and out -at its farther end. Richard, with his head bent, and her hand drawn -through his arm, was talking to her very earnestly; and she looked up -in his face, listening, and seemed to see nothing else. So young, so -beautiful, so full of hope and promise, they went on lightly through -the sunlight, as their own happy thoughts might then be traversing -the years to come, and making them all years of brightness. So they -passed away into the shadow, and were gone. It was only a burst of -light that had been so radiant. The room darkened as they went out, -and the sun was clouded over. - -"Am I right, Esther?" said my Guardian, when they were gone. - -He who was so good and wise, to ask me whether he was right! - -"Rick may gain, out of this, the quality he wants. Wants, at the core -of so much that is good!" said Mr. Jarndyce, shaking his head. "I have -said nothing to Ada, Esther. She has her friend and counselor always -near." And he laid his hand lovingly upon my head. - -I could not help showing that I was a little moved, though I did all I -could to conceal it. - -"Tut tut!" said he. "But we must take care, too, that our little -woman's life is not all consumed in care for others." - -"Care? My dear Guardian, I believe I am the happiest creature in the -world!" - -"I believe so too," said he. "But some one may find out, what Esther -never will--that the little woman is to be held in remembrance above -all other people!" - -I have omitted to mention in its place, that there was some one else -at the family dinner party. It was not a lady. It was a gentleman. It -was a gentleman of a dark complexion--a young surgeon. He was rather -reserved, but I thought him very sensible and agreeable. At least, Ada -asked me if I did not, and I said yes. - - -(TO BE CONTINUED.) - - - - -THE COUNTER-STROKE. - - -Just after breakfast one fine spring morning in 1837, an advertisement -in the _Times_ for a curate caught and fixed my attention. The salary -was sufficiently remunerative for a bachelor, and the parish, as I -personally knew, one of the most pleasantly situated in all -Somersetshire. Having said that, the reader will readily understand -that it could not have been a hundred miles from Taunton. I instantly -wrote, inclosing testimonials, with which the Rev. Mr. Townley, the -rector, was so entirely satisfied, that the return-post brought me a -positive engagement, unclogged with the slightest objection to one or -two subsidiary items I had stipulated for, and accompanied by an -invitation to make the rectory my home till I could conveniently suit -myself elsewhere. This was both kind and handsome; and the next day -but one I took coach, with a light heart, for my new destination. It -thus happened that I became acquainted, and in some degree mixed up, -with the train of events it is my present purpose to relate. - -The rector I found to be a stout, portly gentleman, whose years -already reached to between sixty and seventy. So many winters, -although they had plentifully besprinkled his hair with gray, shone -out with ruddy brightness in his still handsome face, and keen, -kindly, bright-hazel eyes; and his voice, hearty and ringing, had not -as yet one quaver of age in it. I met him at breakfast on the morning -after my arrival, and his reception of me was most friendly. We had -spoken together but for a few minutes, when one of the French windows, -that led from the breakfast-room into a shrubbery and flower-garden, -gently opened and admitted a lady, just then, as I afterward learned, -in her nineteenth spring. I use this term almost unconsciously, for I -can not even now, in the glowing summer of her life, dissociate her -image from that season of youth and joyousness. She was introduced to -me, with old-fashioned simplicity, as "My grand-daughter, Agnes -Townley." It is difficult to look at beauty through other men's eyes, -and, in the present instance, I feel that I should fail miserably in -the endeavor to stamp upon this blank, dead paper, any adequate idea -of the fresh loveliness, the rose-bud beauty of that young girl. I -will merely say, that her perfectly Grecian head, wreathed with wavy -_bandeaux_ of bright hair, undulating with golden light, vividly -brought to my mind Raphael's halo-tinted portraitures of the -Virgin--with this difference, that in place of the holy calm and -resignation of the painting, there was in Agnes Townley, a sparkling -youth and life, that even amid the heat and glare of a crowded -ball-room, or of a theatre, irresistibly suggested and recalled the -freshness and perfume of the morning--of a cloudless, rosy morning of -May. And, far higher charm than feature-beauty, however exquisite, a -sweetness of disposition, a kind gentleness of mind and temper, was -evinced in every line of her face, in every accent of the low-pitched, -silver voice, that breathed through lips made only to smile. - -Let me own, that I was greatly struck by so remarkable a combination -of rare endowments; and this, I think, the sharp-eyed rector must have -perceived, or he might not, perhaps, have been so immediately -communicative with respect to the near prospects of his idolized -grand-child, as he was the moment the young lady, after presiding at -the breakfast-table, had withdrawn. - -"We shall have gay doings, Mr. Tyrrel, at the rectory shortly," he -said. "Next Monday three weeks will, with the blessing of God, be -Agnes Townley's wedding-day." - -"Wedding-day!" - -"Yes," rejoined the rector, turning toward and examining some flowers -which Miss Townley had brought in and placed on the table. "Yes, it -has been for some time settled that Agnes shall on that day be united -in holy wedlock to Mr. Arbuthnot." - -"Mr. Arbuthnot, of Elm Park?" - -"A great match, is it not, in a worldly point of view?" replied Mr. -Townley, with a pleasant smile at the tone of my exclamation. "And -much better than that: Robert Arbuthnot is a young man of a high and -noble nature, as well as devotedly attached to Agnes. He will, I doubt -not, prove in every respect a husband deserving and worthy of her; -and that from the lips of a doting old grandpapa must be esteemed high -praise. You will see him presently." - -I did see him often, and quite agreed in the rector's estimate of his -future grandson-in-law. I have not frequently seen a finer-looking -young man--his age was twenty-six; and certainly one of a more -honorable and kindly spirit, of a more genial temper than he, has -never come within my observation. He had drawn a great prize in the -matrimonial lottery, and, I felt, deserved his high fortune. - -They were married at the time agreed upon, and the day was kept not -only at Elm Park, and in its neighborhood, but throughout "our" -parish, as a general holiday. And, strangely enough--at least I have -never met with another instance of the kind--it was held by our entire -female community, high as well as low, that the match was a perfectly -equal one, notwithstanding that wealth and high worldly position were -entirely on the bridegroom's side. In fact, that nobody less in the -social scale than the representative of an old territorial family -ought, in the nature of things, to have aspired to the hand of Agnes -Townley, appeared to have been a foregone conclusion with every body. -This will give the reader a truer and more vivid impression of the -bride, than any words or colors I might use. - -The days, weeks, months of wedded life flew over Mr. and Mrs. -Arbuthnot without a cloud, save a few dark but transitory ones which I -saw now and then flit over the husband's countenance as the time when -he should become a father drew near, and came to be more and more -spoken of. "I should not survive her," said Mr. Arbuthnot, one day in -reply to a chance observation of the rector's, "nor indeed desire to -do so." The gray-headed man seized and warmly pressed the husband's -hand, and tears of sympathy filled his eyes; yet did he, nevertheless, -as in duty bound, utter grave words on the sinfulness of despair under -any circumstances, and the duty, in all trials, however heavy, of -patient submission to the will of God. But the venerable gentleman -spoke in a hoarse and broken voice, and it was easy to see he _felt_ -with Mr. Arbuthnot that the reality of an event, the bare possibility -of which shook them so terribly, were a cross too heavy for human -strength to bear and live. - -It was of course decided that the expected heir or heiress should be -intrusted to a wet-nurse, and a Mrs. Danby, the wife of a miller -living not very far from the rectory, was engaged for that purpose. I -had frequently seen the woman; and her name, as the rector and I were -one evening gossiping over our tea, on some subject or other that I -forgot, came up. - -"A likely person," I remarked; "healthy, very good-looking, and one -might make oath, a true-hearted creature. But there is withal a -timidity; a frightenedness in her manner at times, which, if I may -hazard a perhaps uncharitable conjecture, speaks ill for that smart -husband of hers." - -"You have hit the mark precisely, my dear sir. Danby is a sorry -fellow, and a domestic tyrant to boot. His wife, who is really a good, -but meek-hearted person, lived with us once. How old do you suppose -her to be?" - -"Five-and-twenty perhaps." - -"Six years more than that. She has a son of the name of Harper by a -former marriage, who is in his tenth year. Anne wasn't a widow long. -Danby was caught by her good looks, and she by the bait of a -well-provided home. Unless, however, her husband gives up his corn -speculations, she will not, I think, have that much longer." - -"Corn speculations! Surely Danby has no means adequate to indulgence -in such a game as that?" - -"Not he. But about two years ago he bought, on credit, I believe, a -considerable quantity of wheat, and prices happening to fly suddenly -up just then, he made a large profit. This has quite turned his head, -which, by-the-by, was never, as Cockneys say, quite rightly screwed -on." The announcement of a visitor interrupted any thing further the -rector might have had to say, and I soon afterward went home. - -A sad accident occurred about a month subsequent to the foregoing -conversation. The rector was out riding upon a usually quiet horse, -which all at once took it into its head to shy at a scarecrow it must -have seen a score of times, and thereby threw its rider. Help was -fortunately at hand, and the reverend gentleman was instantly conveyed -home, when it was found that his left thigh was broken. Thanks, -however, to his temperate habits, it was before long authoritatively -pronounced that, although it would be a considerable time before he -was released from confinement, it was not probable that the lusty -winter of his life would be shortened by what had happened. -Unfortunately, the accident threatened to have evil consequences in -another quarter. Immediately after it occurred, one Matthews, a busy, -thick-headed lout of a butcher, rode furiously off to Elm Park with -the news. Mrs. Arbuthnot, who daily looked to be confined, was walking -with her husband upon the lawn in front of the house, when the great -burly blockhead rode up, and blurted out that the rector had been -thrown from his horse, and it was feared killed! - -The shock of such an announcement was of course overwhelming. A few -hours afterward, Mrs. Arbuthnot gave birth to a healthy male-child; -but the young mother's life, assailed by fever, was for many days -utterly despaired of--for weeks held to tremble so evenly in the -balance, that the slightest adverse circumstance might in a moment -turn the scale deathward. At length the black horizon that seemed to -encompass us so hopelessly, lightened, and afforded the lover-husband -a glimpse and hope of his vanished and well-nigh despaired of Eden. -The promise was fulfilled. I was in the library with Mr. Arbuthnot, -awaiting the physician's morning report, very anxiously expected at -the rectory, when Dr. Lindley entered the apartment in evidently -cheerful mood. - -"You have been causelessly alarmed," he said. "There is no fear -whatever of a relapse. Weakness only remains, and that we shall -slowly, perhaps, but certainly remove." - -A gleam of lightning seemed to flash over Mr. Arbuthnot's expressive -countenance. "Blessed be God!" he exclaimed. "And how," he added, -"shall we manage respecting the child? She asks for it incessantly." - -Mr. Arbuthnot's infant son, I should state, had been consigned -immediately after its birth to the care of Mrs. Danby, who had herself -been confined, also with a boy, about a fortnight previously. -Scarlatina being prevalent in the neighborhood, Mrs. Danby was hurried -away with the two children to a place near Bath, almost before she was -able to bear the journey. Mr. Arbuthnot had not left his wife for an -hour, and consequently had only seen his child for a few minutes just -after it was born. - -"With respect to the child," replied Dr. Lindley, "I am of opinion -that Mrs. Arbuthnot may see it in a day or two. Say the third day from -this, if all goes well. I think we may venture so far; but I will be -present, for any untoward agitation might be perhaps instantly fatal." -This point provisionally settled, we all three went our several ways: -I to cheer the still suffering rector with the good news. - -The next day but one, Mr. Arbuthnot was in exuberant spirits. "Dr. -Lindley's report is even more favorable than we had anticipated," he -said; "and I start to-morrow morning, to bring Mrs. Danby and the -child--" The postman's subdued but unmistakable knock interrupted him. -"The nurse," he added, "is very attentive and punctual. She writes -almost every day." A servant entered with a salver heaped with -letters. Mr. Arbuthnot tossed them over eagerly, and seizing one, -after glancing at the post-mark, tore it eagerly open, muttering as he -did so, "It is not the usual handwriting; but from her, no doubt--" -"Merciful God!" I impulsively exclaimed, as I suddenly lifted my eyes -to his. "What is the matter?" A mortal pallor had spread over Mr. -Arbuthnot's before animated features, and he was glaring at the letter -in his hand as if a basilisk had suddenly confronted him. Another -moment, and the muscles of his frame appeared to give way suddenly, -and he dropped heavily into the easy-chair from which he had risen to -take the letters. I was terribly alarmed, and first loosening his -neckerchief, for he seemed choking, I said: "Let me call some one;" -and I turned to reach the bell, when he instantly seized my arms, and -held me with a grip of iron. "No--no--no!" he hoarsely gasped; -"water--water!" There was fortunately some on a side table. I handed -it to him, and he drank eagerly. It appeared to revive him a little. -He thrust the crumpled letter into his pocket, and said in a low, -quick whisper: "There is some one coming! Not a word, remember--not a -word!" At the same time, he wheeled his chair half round, so that his -back should be toward the servant we heard approaching. - -"I am sent, sir," said Mrs. Arbuthnot's maid, "to ask if the post has -arrived?" - -"Yes," replied Mr. Arbuthnot, with wonderful mastery of his voice. -"Tell your mistress I shall be with her almost immediately, and that -her--her son is quite well." - -"Mr. Tyrrel," he continued, as soon as the servant was out of hearing, -"there is, I think a liqueur-stand on the sideboard in the large -dining-room. Would you have the kindness to bring it me, -unobserved--mind that--unobserved by any one?" - -I did as he requested; and the instant I placed the liqueur-frame -before him, he seized the brandy _carafe_, and drank with fierce -eagerness. "For goodness' sake," I exclaimed, "consider what you are -about, Mr. Arbuthnot; you will make yourself ill." - -"No, no," he answered, after finishing his draught. "It seems scarcely -stronger than water. But I--I am better now. It was a sudden spasm of -the heart; that's all. The letter," he added, after a long and painful -pause, during which he eyed me, I thought, with a kind of -suspicion--"the letter you saw me open just now, comes from a -relative, an aunt, who is ill, very ill, and wishes to see me -instantly. You understand?" - -I _did_ understand, or at least I feared that I did too well. I, -however, bowed acquiescence; and he presently rose from his chair, and -strode about the apartment in great agitation, until his wife's -bedroom bell rang. He then stopped suddenly short, shook himself, and -looked anxiously at the reflection of his flushed and varying -countenance in the magnificent chimney-glass. - -"I do not look, I think--or, at least shall not, in a darkened -room--odder, more out of the way--that is, more agitated--than one -might, that one _must_ appear after hearing of the dangerous illness -of--of--an aunt?" - -"You look better, sir, than you did a while since." - -"Yes, yes; much better, much better. I am glad to hear you say so. -That was my wife's bell. She is anxious, no doubt, to see me." - -He left the apartment; was gone perhaps ten minutes; and when he -returned, was a thought less nervous than before. I rose to go. "Give -my respects," he said, "to the good rector; and as an especial favor," -he added, with strong emphasis, "let me ask of you not to mention to a -living soul that you saw me so unmanned as I was just now; that I -swallowed brandy. It would appear so strange, so weak, so ridiculous." - -I promised not to do so, and almost immediately left the house, very -painfully affected. His son was, I concluded, either dead or dying, -and he was thus bewilderedly casting about for means of keeping the -terrible, perhaps fatal tidings, from his wife. I afterward heard that -he left Elm Park in a post-chaise, about two hours after I came away, -unattended by a single servant! - -He was gone three clear days only, at the end of which he returned -with Mrs. Danby and--his son--in florid health, too, and one of the -finest babies of its age--about nine weeks only--I had ever seen. Thus -vanished the air-drawn Doubting Castle and Giant Despair which I had -so hastily conjured up! The cause assigned by Mr. Arbuthnot for the -agitation I had witnessed, was doubtless the true one; and yet, and -the thought haunted me for months, years afterward, he opened only -_one_ letter that morning, and had sent a message to his wife that the -child was well. - -Mrs. Danby remained at the Park till the little Robert was weaned, and -was then dismissed very munificently rewarded. Year after year rolled -away without bringing Mr. and Mrs. Arbuthnot any additional little -ones, and no one, therefore, could feel surprised at the enthusiastic -love of the delighted mother for her handsome, nobly-promising boy. -But that which did astonish me, though no one else, for it seemed that -I alone noticed it, was a strange defect of character which began to -develop itself in Mr. Arbuthnot. He was positively jealous of his -wife's affection for their own child! Many and many a time have I -remarked, when he thought himself unobserved, an expression of intense -pain flash from his fine, expressive eyes, at any more than usually -fervent manifestation of the young mother's gushing love for her first -and only born! It was altogether a mystery to me, and I as much as -possible forbore to dwell upon the subject. - -Nine years passed away without bringing any material change to the -parties involved in this narrative, except those which time brings -ordinarily in his train. Young Robert Arbuthnot was a healthy, tall, -fine-looking lad of his age; and his great-grandpapa, the rector, -though not suffering under any actual physical or mental infirmity, -had reached a time of life when the announcement that the golden bowl -is broken, or the silver cord is loosed, may indeed be quick and -sudden, but scarcely unexpected. Things had gone well, too, with the -nurse, Mrs. Danby, and her husband; well, at least, after a fashion. -The speculative miller must have made good use of the gift to his wife -for her care of little Arbuthnot, for he had built a genteel house -near the mill, always rode a valuable horse, kept, it was said, a -capital table; and all this, as it seemed, by his clever speculations -in corn and flour, for the ordinary business of the mill was almost -entirely neglected. He had no children of his own, but he had -apparently taken, with much cordiality, to his step-son, a fine lad, -now about eighteen years of age. This greatly grieved the boy's -mother, who dreaded above all things that her son should contract the -evil, dissolute habits of his father-in-law. Latterly, she had become -extremely solicitous to procure the lad a permanent situation abroad, -and this Mr. Arbuthnot had promised should be effected at the earliest -opportunity. - -Thus stood affairs on the 16th of October, 1846. Mr Arbuthnot was -temporarily absent in Ireland, where he possessed large property, and -was making personal inquiries as to the extent of the potato-rot, not -long before announced. The morning's post had brought a letter to his -wife, with the intelligence that he should reach home that very -evening; and as the rectory was on the direct road to Elm Park, and -her husband would be sure to pull up there, Mrs. Arbuthnot came with -her son to pass the afternoon there, and in some slight degree -anticipate her husband's arrival. - -About three o'clock, a chief-clerk of one of the Taunton banks rode up -in a gig to the rectory, and asked to see the Rev. Mr. Townley, on -pressing and important business. He was ushered into the library, -where the rector and I were at the moment rather busily engaged. The -clerk said he had been to Elm Park, but not finding either Mr. -Arbuthnot or his lady there, he had thought that perhaps the Rev. Mr. -Townley might be able to pronounce upon the genuineness of a check for -£300, purporting to be drawn on the Taunton Bank by Mr. Arbuthnot, and -which Danby the miller had obtained cash for at Bath. He further -added, that the bank had refused payment and detained the check, -believing it to be a forgery. - -"A forgery!" exclaimed the rector, after merely glancing at the -document. "No question that it is, and a very clumsily executed one, -too. Besides, Mr. Arbuthnot is not yet returned from Ireland." - -This was sufficient; and the messenger, with many apologies for his -intrusion, withdrew, and hastened back to Taunton. We were still -talking over this sad affair, although some hours had elapsed since -the clerk's departure--in fact, candles had been brought in, and we -were every moment expecting Mr. Arbuthnot--when the sound of a horse -at a hasty gallop was heard approaching, and presently the pale and -haggard face of Danby shot by the window at which the rector and -myself were standing. The gate-bell was rung almost immediately -afterward, and but a brief interval passed before "Mr. Danby" was -announced to be in waiting. The servant had hardly gained the passage -with leave to show him in, when the impatient visitor rushed rudely -into the room in a state of great, and it seemed angry excitement. - -"What, sir, is the meaning of this ill-mannered intrusion?" demanded -the rector, sternly. - -"You have pronounced the check I paid away at Bath to be a forgery; -and the officers are, I am told, already at my heels. Mr. Arbuthnot, -unfortunately, is not at home, and I am come, therefore, to seek -shelter with you." - -"Shelter with me, sir!" exclaimed the indignant rector, moving, as he -spoke, toward the bell. "Out of my house you shall go this instant." - -The fellow placed his hand upon the reverend gentleman's arm, and -looked with his bloodshot eyes keenly in his face. - -"Don't!" said Danby; "don't, for the sake of yourself and yours! -Don't! I warn you; or, if you like the phrase better, don't, for the -sake of me and _mine_." - -"Yours, fellow! Your wife, whom you have so long held in cruel bondage -through her fears for her son, has at last shaken off that chain. -James Harper sailed two days ago from Portsmouth for Bombay. I sent -her the news two hours since." - -"Ha! is that indeed so?" cried Danby, with an irrepressible start of -alarm. "Why, then--But no matter: here, luckily, comes Mrs. Arbuthnot -_and her son_. All's right! She will, I know, stand bail for me, and, -if need be, acknowledge the genuineness of her husband's check." - -The fellow's insolence was becoming unbearable, and I was about to -seize and thrust him forcibly from the apartment, when the sound of -wheels was heard outside. "Hold! one moment," he cried with fierce -vehemence. "That is probably the officers: I must be brief, then, and -to the purpose. Pray, madam, do not leave the room for your own sake: -as for you, young sir, I _command_ you to remain!" - -"What! what does he mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Arbuthnot bewilderedly, and -at the same time clasping her son--who gazed on Danby with kindled -eyes, and angry boyish defiance--tightly to her side. Did the man's -strange words give form and significance to some dark, shadowy, -indistinct doubt that had previously haunted her at times? I judged -so. The rector appeared similarly confused and shaken, and had sunk -nerveless and terrified upon a sofa. - -"You guess dimly, I see, at what I have to say," resumed Danby with a -malignant sneer. "Well, hear it, then, once for all, and then, if you -will, give me up to the officers. Some years ago," he continued, -coldly and steadily--"some years ago, a woman, a nurse, was placed in -charge of two infant children, both boys: one of these was her own; -the other was the son of rich, proud parents. The woman's husband was -a gay, jolly fellow, who much preferred spending money to earning it, -and just then it happened that he was more than usually hard up. One -afternoon, on visiting his wife, who had removed to a distance, he -found that the rich man's child had sickened of the small-pox, and -that there was no chance of its recovery. A letter containing the sad -news was on a table, which he, the husband, took the liberty to open -and read. After some reflection, suggested by what he had heard of the -lady-mother's state of mind, he re-copied the letter, for the sake of -embodying in it a certain suggestion. That letter was duly posted, and -the next day brought the rich man almost in a state of distraction; -but his chief and mastering terror was lest the mother of the already -dead infant should hear, in her then precarious state, of what had -happened. The tidings, he was sure, would kill her. Seeing this, the -cunning husband of the nurse suggested that, for the present, his--the -cunning one's--child might be taken to the lady as her own, and that -the truth could be revealed when she was strong enough to bear it. The -rich man fell into the artful trap, and that which the husband of the -nurse had speculated upon, came to pass even beyond his hopes. The -lady grew to idolize her fancied child--she has, fortunately, had no -other--and now, I think, it would really kill her to part with him. -The rich man could not find it in his heart to undeceive his -wife--every year it became more difficult, more impossible to do so; -and very generously, I must say, has he paid in purse for the -forbearance of the nurse's husband. Well now, then, to sum up: the -nurse was Mrs. Danby; the rich, weak husband, Mr. Arbuthnot; the -substituted child, that handsome boy, _my son_!" - -A wild scream from Mrs. Arbuthnot broke the dread silence which had -accompanied this frightful revelation, echoed by an agonized cry, half -tenderness, half rage, from her husband, who had entered the room -unobserved, and now clasped her passionately in his arms. The -carriage-wheels we had heard were his. It was long before I could -recall with calmness the tumult, terror, and confusion of that scene. -Mr Arbuthnot strove to bear his wife from the apartment, but she would -not be forced away, and kept imploring with frenzied vehemence that -Robert--that her boy should not be taken from her. - -"I have no wish to do so--far from it," said Danby, with gleeful -exultation. "Only folk must be reasonable, and not threaten their -friends with the hulks--" - -"Give him any thing, any thing!" broke in the unhappy lady. "O Robert! -Robert!" she added with a renewed burst of hysterical grief, "how -could you deceive me so?" - -"I have been punished, Agnes," he answered in a husky, broken voice, -"for my well-intending but criminal weakness; cruelly punished by the -ever-present consciousness that this discovery must one day or other -be surely made. What do you want?" he after awhile added with -recovering firmness, addressing Danby. - -"The acknowledgment of the little bit of paper in dispute, of course; -and say a genuine one to the same amount." - -"Yes, yes," exclaimed Mrs. Arbuthnot, still wildly sobbing, and -holding the terrified boy still strained in her embrace, as if she -feared he might be wrenched from her by force. "Any thing--pay him any -thing!" - -At this moment, chancing to look toward the door of the apartment, I -saw that it was partially opened, and that Danby's wife was listening -there. What might that mean? But what of helpful meaning in such a -case could it have? - -"Be it so, love," said Mr. Arbuthnot, soothingly. "Danby, call -to-morrow at the Park. And now, begone at once." - -"I was thinking," resumed the rascal with swelling audacity, "that we -might as well at the same time come to some permanent arrangement upon -black and white. But never mind: I can always put the screw on; -unless, indeed, you get tired of the young gentleman, and in that -case, I doubt not, he will prove a dutiful and affectionate son--Ah, -devil! What do you here? Begone, or I'll murder you! Begone, do you -hear?" - -His wife had entered, and silently confronted him. "Your threats, evil -man," replied the woman quietly, "have no terrors for me now. My son -is beyond your reach. Oh, Mrs. Arbuthnot," she added, turning toward -and addressing that lady, "believe not--" - -Her husband sprang at her with the bound of a panther. "Silence! Go -home, or I'll strangle--" His own utterance was arrested by the fierce -grasp of Mr. Arbuthnot, who seized him by the throat, and hurled him -to the further end of the room. "Speak on, woman; and quick! quick! -What have you to say?" - -"That your son, dearest lady," she answered, throwing herself at Mrs. -Arbuthnot's feet, "is as truly your own child as ever son born of -woman!" - -That shout of half-fearful triumph seems even now as I write to ring -in my ears! I _felt_ that the woman's words were words of truth, but I -could not see distinctly: the room whirled round, and the lights -danced before my eyes, but I could hear through all the choking -ecstasy of the mother, and the fury of the baffled felon. - -"The letter," continued Mrs. Danby, "which my husband found and -opened, would have informed you, sir, of the swiftly approaching death -of _my_ child, and that yours had been carefully kept beyond the reach -of contagion. The letter you received was written without my knowledge -or consent. True it is that, terrified by my husband's threats, and in -some measure reconciled to the wicked imposition by knowing that, -after all, the right child would be in his right place, I afterward -lent myself to Danby's evil purposes. But I chiefly feared for my son, -whom I fully believed he would not have scrupled to make away with in -revenge for my exposing his profitable fraud. I have sinned; I can -hardly hope to be forgiven, but I have now told the sacred truth." - -All this was uttered by the repentant woman, but at the time it was -almost wholly unheard by those most interested in the statement. They -only comprehended that they were saved--that the child was theirs in -very truth. Great, abundant, but for the moment, bewildering joy! Mr. -Arbuthnot--his beautiful young wife--her own true boy (how could she -for a moment have doubted that he was her own true boy!--you might -read that thought through all her tears, thickly as they fell)--the -aged and half-stunned rector, while yet Mrs. Danby was speaking, were -exclaiming, sobbing in each other's arms, ay, and praising God too, -with broken voices and incoherent words it may be, but certainly with -fervent, pious, grateful hearts. - -When we had time to look about us, it was found that the felon had -disappeared--escaped. It was well, perhaps, that he had; better, that -he has not been heard of since. - - - - -PHILOSOPHY OF LAUGHTER. - - -From the time of King Solomon downward, laughter has been the subject -of pretty general abuse. Even the laughers themselves sometimes -vituperate the cachinnation they indulge in, and many of them - - "Laugh in such a sort, - As if they mocked themselves, and scorned the spirit - That could be moved to laugh at any thing." - -The general notion is, that laughter is childish, and unworthy the -gravity of adult life. Grown men, we say, have more to do than to -laugh; and the wiser sort of them leave such an unseemly contortion of -the muscles to babes and blockheads. - -We have a suspicion that there is something wrong here--that the world -is mistaken not only in its reasonings, but its facts. To assign -laughter to an early period of life, is to go contrary to observation -and experience. There is not so grave an animal in this world as the -human baby. It will weep, when it has got the length of tears, by the -pailful; it will clench its fists, distort its face into a hideous -expression of anguish, and scream itself into convulsions. It has not -yet come up to a laugh. The little savage must be educated by -circumstances, and tamed by the contact of civilization, before it -rises to the greater functions of its being. Nay, we have sometimes -received the idea from its choked and tuneless screams, that _they_ -were imperfect attempts at laughter. It feels enjoyment as well as -pain, but has only one way of expressing both. - -Then, look at the baby, when it has turned into a little boy or girl, -and come up in some degree to the cachinnation. The laughter is still -only rudimental: it is not genuine laughter. It expresses triumph, -scorn, passion--anything but a feeling of natural amusement. It is -provoked by misfortune, by bodily infirmities, by the writhings of -agonized animals; and it indicates either a sense of power or a -selfish feeling of exemption from suffering. The "light-hearted laugh -of children!" What a mistake! Observe the gravity of their sports. -They are masters or mistresses, with the care of a family upon their -hands; and they take especial delight in correcting their children -with severity. They are washerwomen, housemaids, cooks, soldiers, -policemen, postmen; coach, horsemen, and horses, by turns; and in all -these characters they scour, sweep, fry, fight, pursue, carry, whirl, -ride, and are ridden, without changing a muscle. - -At the games of the young people there is much shouting, argument, -vituperation--but no laughter. A game is a serious business with a -boy, and he derives from it excitement, but no amusement. If he laughs -at all, it is at something quite distinct from the purpose of the -sport; for instance, when one of his comrades has his nose broken by -the ball, or when the feet of another make off from him on the ice, -and he comes down upon his back like a thunderbolt. On such occasions, -the laugh of a boy puts us in mind of the laugh of a hyæna: it is, in -fact, the broken, asthmatic roar of a beast of prey. - -It would thus appear that the common charge brought against laughter, -of being something babyish, or childish, or boyish--something -properly appertaining to early life--is unfounded. But we of course -must not be understood to speak of what is technically called -giggling, which proceeds more from a looseness of the structures than -from any sensation of amusement. Many young persons are continually on -the giggle till their muscles strengthen; and indeed, when a company -of them are met together, the affection aggravated by emulation, -acquires the loudness of laughter, when it may be likened, in -Scripture phrase, to the crackling of thorns. What we mean is a -regular guffaw; that explosion of high spirits, and the feeling of -joyous excitement, which is commonly written ha! ha! ha! This is -altogether unknown in babyhood; in boyhood, it exists only in its -rudiments; and it does not reach its full development till adolescence -ripens into manhood. - -This train of thought was suggested to us a few evenings ago, by the -conduct of a party of eight or ten individuals, who meet periodically -for the purpose of philosophical inquiry. Their subject is a very -grave one. Their object is to mould into a science that which as yet -is only a vague, formless, and obscure department of knowledge; and -they proceed in the most cautious manner from point to point, from -axiom to axiom--debating at every step, and coming to no decision -without unanimous conviction. Some are professors of the university, -devoted to abstruse studies; some are clergymen; and some authors and -artists. Now, at the meeting in question--which we take merely as an -example, for all are alike--when the hour struck which terminates -their proceedings for the evening, the jaded philosophers retired to -the refreshment-room; and here a scene of remarkable contrast -occurred. Instead of a single deep, low, earnest voice, alternating -with a profound silence, an absolute roar of merriment began, with the -suddenness of an explosion of gunpowder. Jests, bon-mots, anecdotes, -barbarous plays upon words--the more atrocious the better--flew round -the table; and a joyous and almost continuous ha! ha! ha! made the -ceiling ring. This, we venture to say it, _was_ laughter--genuine, -unmistakable laughter, proceeding from no sense of triumph, from no -self-gratulation, and mingled with no bad feeling of any kind. It was -a spontaneous effort of nature coming from the head as well as the -heart; an unbending of the bow, a reaction from study, which study -alone could occasion, and which could occur only in adult life. - -There are some people who can not laugh, but these are not necessarily -either morose or stupid. They may laugh in their heart, and with their -eyes, although by some unlucky fatality, they have not the gift of -oral cachinnation. Such persons are to be pitied; for laughter in -grown people is a substitute devised by nature for the screams and -shouts of boyhood, by which the lungs are strengthened and the health -preserved. As the intellect ripens, that shouting ceases, and we learn -to laugh as we learn to reason. The society we have mentioned studied -the harder the more they laughed, and they laughed the more the harder -they studied. Each, of course, to be of use, must be in its own place. -A laugh in the midst of the study would have been a profanation; a -grave look in the midst of the merriment would have been an insult to -the good sense of the company. - -If there are some people who can not laugh, there are others who will -not. It is not, however, that they are ashamed of being grown men, and -want to go back to babyhood, for by some extraordinary perversity, -they fancy unalterable gravity to be the distinguishing characteristic -of wisdom. In a merry company, they present the appearance of a Red -Indian whitewashed, and look on at the strange ways of their neighbors -without betraying even the faintest spark of sympathy or intelligence. -These are children of a larger growth, and have not yet acquired sense -enough to laugh. Like the savage, they are afraid of compromising -their dignity, or, to use their own words, of making fools of -themselves. For our part, we never see a man afraid of making a fool -of himself at the right season, without setting him down as a fool -ready made. - -A woman has no natural grace more bewitching than a sweet laugh. It is -like the sound of flutes on the water. It leaps from her heart in a -clear, sparkling rill; and the heart that hears it feels as if bathed -in the cool, exhilarating spring. Have you ever pursued an unseen -fugitive through the trees, led on by her fairy laugh; now here, now -there--now lost, now found? We have. And we are pursuing that -wandering voice to this day. Sometimes it comes to us in the midst of -care, or sorrow, or irksome business; and then we turn away, and -listen, and hear it ringing through the room like a silver bell, with -power to scare away the ill-spirits of the mind. How much we owe to -that sweet laugh! It turns the prose of our life into poetry; it -flings showers of sunshine over the darksome wood in which we are -traveling; it touches with light even our sleep, which is no more the -image of death, but gemmed with dreams that are the shadows of -immortality. - -But our song, like Dibdin's, "means more than it says;" for a man, as -we have stated, may laugh, and yet the cachinnation be wanting. His -heart laughs, and his eyes are filled with that kindly, sympathetic -smile which inspires friendship and confidence. On the sympathy -within, these external phenomena depend; and this sympathy it is which -keeps societies of men together, and is the true freemasonry of the -good and wise. It is an imperfect sympathy that grants only -sympathetic tears: we must join in the mirth as well as melancholy of -our neighbors. If our countrymen laughed more, they would not only be -happier, but better, and if philanthropists would provide amusements -for the people, they would be saved the trouble and expense of their -fruitless war against public-houses. This is an indisputable -proposition. The French and Italians, with wine growing at their -doors, and spirits almost as cheap as beer in England, are sober -nations. How comes this? The laugh will answer that leaps up from -group after group--the dance on the village-green--the family dinner -under the trees--the thousand merry-meetings that invigorate industry, -by serving as a relief to the business of life. Without these, -business is care; and it is from care, not from amusement, men fly to -the bottle. - -The common mistake is to associate the idea of amusement with error of -every kind; and this piece of moral asceticism is given forth as true -wisdom, and, from sheer want of examination, is very generally -received as such. A place of amusement concentrates a crowd, and -whatever excesses may be committed, being confined to a small space, -stand more prominently forward than at other times. This is all. The -excesses are really fewer--far fewer--in proportion to the number -assembled, than if no gathering had taken place How can it be -otherwise? The amusement is itself the excitement which the wearied -heart longs for; it is the reaction which nature seeks; and in the -comparatively few instances of a grosser intoxication being -superadded, we see only the craving of depraved habit--a habit -engendered, in all probability, by the _want_ of amusement. - -No, good friends, let us laugh sometimes, if you love us. A dangerous -character is of another kidney, as Cæsar knew to his cost: - - "He loves no plays, - As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; - Seldom he laughs;" - -and when he does, it is on the wrong side of his mouth. - -Let us be wiser. Let us laugh in fitting time and place, silently or -aloud, each after his nature. Let us enjoy an innocent reaction rather -than a guilty one, since reaction there must be. The bow that is -always bent loses its elasticity, and becomes useless. - - - - -Monthly Record of Current Events. - - -THE UNITED STATES. - -The past month has been one of unusual activity. The proceedings of -Congress have not been without importance:--political Conventions have -been held, shaping to a certain extent public movements for the coming -season: and numerous religious and benevolent associations, as well as -ecclesiastical assemblies for business purposes, have held their -annual meetings. - -In the United States Senate, the debate upon an amendment to the -Deficiency Bill, by which it was proposed to grant a large increase of -pay annually to the Collins line of Atlantic steamers, continued for -several days. On the 30th of May, Senator Rusk spoke in favor of it, -and on the 6th, Senator James made an argument upon the same side. -Senator Jones, of Tennessee, opposed so large a grant as that -suggested, though he declared himself desirous of sustaining the line. -He moved to strike out $33,000, and insert $25,000, as the increase -each trip. On the 7th, Mr. Cass spoke at length in favor of the -appropriation. The amendment of Mr. Jones was then rejected, by a vote -of 20 to 28. Senator Brooke moved an amendment, granting the whole -amount of postages received in place of all other compensation: this -was rejected by 9 to 38. Mr. Rusk moved that Congress shall have the -power at any time after December, 1854, to discontinue the extra -allowance, on giving six months' notice. This was agreed to. Mr. -Mallory moved, that the contract be transferred from the Naval to the -Post Office Department: this was lost, 18 to 19. On the 13th, Senator -Borland spoke in opposition to the increased grant. On the 19th, the -amendment, giving the line $33,000 additional pay for each trip, was -agreed to, by a vote of 23 ayes to 21 noes: and on the 21st, upon a -motion to agree to this amendment, as reported by the Committee of the -whole, it was decided in the affirmative by an increased vote. - -In the House of Representatives the only action taken, worthy of -special record, was the passage, on the 12th, of the Bill granting to -each head of a family, who may be a native citizen of the United -States or naturalized previous to January, 1852, the right to enter -upon and cultivate one quarter-section of the Public Lands, and -directing the issue to him of a patent for such land after five years -of actual residence and cultivation. The Bill was passed by a vote of -107 to 56.----The other debates of the House have turned so -exclusively upon unimportant topics, or upon temporary matters -relating to the approaching Presidential election, as to render -further reference to them here unnecessary. - -In reply to the call of the Senate, the closing correspondence of -Chevalier Hulsemann, Austrian Chargé, with the State Department, has -been published. Under date of April 29, Mr. H. writes to the -Secretary, stating that the time had arrived for carrying into effect -the intentions of his government in regard to his official connection -with that of the United States. He complains that the Secretary had -not answered his communication of December 13, in regard to the public -reception given to Kossuth, and that, in spite of verbal -encouragements given him to expect different treatment, his movements -had been derisively commented on by the public journals. He had deemed -it his duty on the 21st of November, to complain of these annoyances, -and on the 28th the Secretary had thereupon notified him that no -further communication would be held with him except in writing. On the -7th of January, the Secretary of State had seen fit to mate a speech -encouraging revolution in Hungary. This demonstration he considered so -strange that he immediately inquired of the President whether it was -to be considered an expression of the sentiments of the government of -the United States. The Austrian government had expressed itself -satisfied with the assurances given in return by the President on the -12th of April, and had instructed him no longer to continue official -relations with the "principal promoter of the Kossuth episode." He -closed his letter by stating that Mr. A. Belmont, Consul-general of -Austria at New York, would continue in the exercise of his functions. -Under date of May 3, Mr. Hunter, acting Secretary of State, -acknowledged the receipt of this communication, and informed Chevalier -Hulsemann that, "as Mr. Belmont is well known to the Secretary of -State as a gentleman of much respectability, any communication which -it may be proper for him to address to the department in his official -character, will be received with entire respect." - -The Democratic National Convention, for the nomination of candidates -for the coming canvass, met at Baltimore on the 1st of June, and was -organized by the election of Hon. JOHN W. DAVIS, of Indiana, -President. The number of delegates present was 288, and a rule was -adopted requiring a vote of two-thirds (192) for a nomination. -Unsuccessful ballotings were had for four days, and it was not until -the forty-ninth ballot that General FRANKLIN PIERCE, of New Hampshire, -received the nomination. Upon the forty-eighth ballot he received 55 -votes, the remainder being divided among Messrs. Cass, Buchanan, -Douglass, and Marcy:--upon the next trial he received 282 votes. Hon. -WILLIAM R. KING, of Alabama, was then nominated for Vice President. A -series of resolutions was adopted, rehearsing the leading principles -of the Democratic party, and declaring resistance to "all attempts at -renewing in Congress, or out of it, the agitation of the slavery -question under whatever shape or color the attempt may be made"--and -also a determination to "abide by, and adhere to, a faithful execution -of the acts known as the Compromise measures settled by the last -Congress--the act reclaiming fugitives from service or labor -included." The Convention adjourned on the 5th. - -Mr. Webster, being upon a brief visit to his place of residence, -accepted an invitation of the citizens of Boston to meet them at -Faneuil Hall, on the 22d of May, when he made a brief address. He -spoke of the pleasure which it always gave him to meet the people of -Boston--of the astonishing progress and prosperity of that city, and -of the many motives her citizens had to labor strenuously for her -advancement. He spoke also of the general nature and functions of -government, and of the many causes which the people of this country -have to reverence and cherish the institutions bequeathed to them by -their fathers. - -In the State of New York, the Court of Appeals has decided against the -constitutionality of the law of 1851, for the more speedy completion -of the State canals. It will be recollected that the Constitution of -the State directs that the surplus revenues of the Canals shall in -each fiscal year be applied to these works, in such manner as the -Legislature may direct; and it also forbids the contracting of any -debt against the State, except by an act to be submitted to the -people, and providing for a direct tax sufficient to pay the interest -and redeem within eighteen years the principal of the debt thus -contracted. The Bill in question provided for the issue of -certificates to the amount of nine millions of dollars, to be paid -exclusively out of the surplus revenues thus set apart, and stating on -their face that the State was to be in no degree responsible for their -redemption; and for the application of moneys that might be raised -from the sale of these certificates, to the completion of the Canals. -Under the law contracts had been made for the whole work, which were -pronounced valid by the last Legislature. The Court of Appeals decides -that the law conflicts with that clause of the Constitution which -requires the application of the revenues in each fiscal year, as also -with that which forbids the incurring of a debt except in the mode -specified. The decision was concurred in by five out of the eight -judges of that Court. - -In South Carolina the State Convention of delegates elected to take -such measures as they might deem expedient against the encroachments -and aggressions of the Federal Government, met at Columbia on the 29th -of April. It adopted a resolution, declaring that the wrongs sustained -by the State, especially in regard to slavery, amply "justify that -State, so far as any duty or obligation to her confederates is -involved, in dissolving at once all political connection with her -co-States, and that she forbears the exercise of that manifest right -of self-government, from considerations of expediency only." This -resolution was accompanied by an ordinance asserting the right of -secession, and declaring that for the sufficiency of the causes which -may impel her to such a step, she is responsible solely to God and to -the tribunal of public opinion among the nations of the earth. The -resolution was adopted by a vote of 135 to 20. - -A bill has been passed by the Legislature of Massachusetts, forbidding -the sale of intoxicating liquors within the limits of the State. As -originally passed, it provided for its submission to the popular vote, -and was vetoed by the Governor, because it did not provide for taking -that vote by secret, instead of by an open ballot. The Legislature -then enacted the law without any clause submitting it to the people; -and in this form it received the assent of the Governor. A similar -law, has been enacted in Rhode Island. - -During the second week in May all the Missionary, Bible, and other -benevolent associations connected with the several religious -denominations having their centres of operation in the city of New -York, held their anniversary celebrations in that city. They were so -numerous, and their proceedings, except as given in detail, would -prove so uninstructive, that it would be useless to make any extended -mention of them here. They were attended with even more than the -ordinary degree of public interest: very able and eloquent addresses -were made by distinguished gentlemen, clergymen and others, from -various parts of the country; and reports of their proceedings--of -results accomplished and agencies employed--were spread before the -public. The history of their labors during the year has been highly -encouraging. Largely increased contributions of money have augmented -their resources and their ability to prosecute their labors which have -been attended with marked success.----During the week succeeding, -similar meetings were held in Boston of all the associations which -have their head-quarters in that city.----The two General Assemblies, -which constitute the government of the two divisions of the -Presbyterian Church in the United States, have held their sessions -during the month. That representing the Old School met at Charleston, -S.C., on the 20th of May. Rev. John C. Lord, of Buffalo, N.Y., was -chosen Moderator. That of the New School met at Washington on the same -day, and Rev. Dr. Adams, of New York, was elected Moderator. Both were -engaged for several days in business relating to the government and -organization of their respective organizations.----The General -Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church (North) met at Boston on -the 1st of May, and held a protracted session--extending through the -whole month. Most of the business transacted related of course to -matters of temporary or local interest. Special reports were made and -action taken upon the interests of the Church in various sections of -the country, and in the fields of missionary labor. It was decided -that the next General Conference should meet at Indianapolis. Steps -were taken to organize a Methodist Episcopal Tract Society. On the -25th of May the four new bishops were elected by ballot--Rev. Drs. -Levi Scott, Matthew Simpson, Osmond C. Baker, and Edward R. Ames being -chosen. Dr. T. E. Bond was elected editor of the Christian Advocate -and Journal, the recognized organ of the Church; Dr. J. M'Clintock, -editor of the Quarterly Review; D. P. Kidder, of the Sunday School -publications; W. Nast, of the Christian Apologist; and Rev. Dr. -Charles Elliott, of the Western Christian Advocate. Rev. Dr. J. P. -Durbin was chosen Missionary Secretary. - -Kossuth, after visiting the principal towns in Massachusetts, had a -public reception at Albany, and spent a week in visiting Buffalo, -Niagara, Syracuse, Troy, and other cities. He was expected at New York -when our Record closed.----Thomas Francis Meagher, Esq., one of the -Irish State prisoners, effected his escape from Van Dieman's Land in -February, and arrived, in an American vessel, at New York on the 1st -of June. He was very warmly welcomed by the public, especially by his -countrymen. - -From CALIFORNIA we have intelligence to the 6th of May. The total -shipments of gold for April were $3,419,817; for March, $2,549,704. -Great numbers of Chinese continued to arrive, and they had become so -numerous in the country as to excite serious disaffection, and to lead -to various propositions for their exclusion. The Governor sent in a -special message to the Legislature, urging the necessity of -restricting emigration from China, to enhance the prosperity and -preserve the tranquillity of the State. He objects especially to those -who come under contracts for a limited time--returning to China with -the products of their labor after their term is out, and adding -nothing to the resources or industry of the country. He says that they -are not good American citizens, and can not be; and that their -immigration is not desirable. By a reference to statistics he shows -that China can pour in upon our coast millions of her population -without feeling their loss; that they live upon the merest pittance; -and that while they spend comparatively nothing in the country, the -tendency of their presence is to create an unhealthy competition with -our own people, and reduce the price of labor far below our American -living standard. Governor Bigler also expresses a doubt, whether the -Celestials are entitled to the benefit of the naturalization laws. He -proposes as a remedy--1st. Such an exercise of the taxing power by the -State as will check the present system of indiscriminate and unlimited -Asiatic emigration. 2d. A demand by the State of California for the -prompt interposition of Congress, by the passage of an Act prohibiting -"Coolies," shipped to California under contracts, from laboring in the -mines of this State. Measures have been taken in several of the mining -localities to exclude the Chinese from them.----The Legislature -adjourned on the 4th; the bill proposing a Convention to revise the -Constitution of the State was defeated in the Senate by a vote of 11 -to 9.----Serious Indian difficulties have occurred again in the -interior. In Trinity County a company of armed citizens went in -pursuit of a band of Indians who were supposed to have been concerned -in the murder of one of their fellow-citizens. On the 22d of April -they overtook them, encamped on the south fork of Trinity river, and -taking them by surprise, shot not less than a hundred and fifty of -them in cold blood. Men, women, and children were alike -destroyed.----Accounts of murders, accidents, &c., abound. The -accounts from the mining districts continue to be encouraging. - -From the SANDWICH ISLANDS, we have news to the 10th of April. -Parliament was opened on the 7th. In the Society group, the people of -Raiatea have rebelled against the authority of Queen Pomare. She had -just appointed one of her sons to the government of Raiatea, but -before his arrival the inhabitants had assembled, as those of the -others had previously done, elected a Governor of their own choice for -two years, and formed a Republic of confederated States, each island -to constitute a separate State. Military preparations had been made to -resist any attempt on the part of the Queen to regain her authority. -It was said that she had applied ineffectually for assistance to the -French, English, and American authorities at Tahiti. There seemed to -be little doubt that all the Leeward islands would establish their -independence. - - -MEXICO. - -We have news from the city of Mexico to the 10th of May. The news of -the rejection of the Tehuantepec treaty is fully confirmed. The vote -was almost unanimous against it, and is fully sustained by the press -and public sentiment. The Government, however, has appointed Mr. -Larrainzas a special envoy to the United States, and has given him, it -is said, instructions for arranging this difficulty upon some -mutually-satisfactory basis. It is reported that Mexico is not -unwilling to grant a right of way across the Isthmus, but that the -very large grants of land embraced in the original treaty led to its -rejection. Upon this point, however, nothing definite is known.----A -difficulty has arisen between the Legislature of the State of Vera -Cruz and the Mexican Congress. The former insists upon a greater -reduction of the tariff of 1845 than the ten per cent. allowed by the -National Senate. The Senate will allow this reduction of ten per -cent., but refuses to do away with any of the duties. The Lower House -of Congress, on the contrary, is in favor of abolishing some of the -duties. Zacatecas and Durango, besides being ravaged by the savages, -are suffering from the visitation of a general famine. - - -SOUTH AMERICA. - -From BUENOS AYRES we have news to the 5th of April. The upper -provinces have sent in felicitations to General Urquiza upon his -accession to power. It is thought that the provinces will unite in a -General Confederacy, under a Central Government, framed upon the model -of that of the United States: and it is suggested that General Urquiza -will probably aspire to the position of President. He is conducting -affairs firmly and successfully, though against great difficulties in -the province, and has issued several proclamations calling upon the -people to sustain him in maintaining order and tranquillity. It is -said that a rupture has occurred between the Brazilian authorities and -the Oriental government, in regard to the execution of late treaties -made and ratified by President Suarez. Negotiations had been -suspended. - -From CHILI we hear of the execution, at Valparaiso, on the 4th of -April, of Cambiaso, the brigand leader of the convict insurrection at -the Straits of Magellan, together with six of his accomplices. They -all belonged to the army, Cambiaso being a lieutenant, and were -stationed at the garrison. The insurrection which he headed resulted -in the seizure of two American vessels, and the murder of all on -board. Several others connected with him were convicted, but pardoned -on proof that they had been forced to join him. - -From RIO JANEIRO the only news of interest, is that of the ravages of -the yellow-fever, which has been very severe, especially among the -shipping. At the middle of April, there were great numbers of -American ships in port, unable to muster hands enough to get out of -port. - -In PERU the Government has issued a decree against Gen. Flores's -expedition, dated the 14th of March, and stated that having received -repeated information of the warlike preparations taking place in Peru, -they have ordered the Prefects of the different provinces to take all -possible measures to put a stop to them; that government will not -afford protection to any Peruvian citizen who should embark on this -expedition, or take any part in it, and that all Peruvian vessels -engaged in the expedition, would no longer be considered as bearing -the national flag. - -From NEW GRENADA we learn that the President has issued a Message -concerning the Flores expedition against Ecuador. From this it appears -that, according to a treaty of peace, amity, and alliance, established -between the Government and that of Ecuador, in December, 1832, the one -power is at all times bound to render aid to the other, both military -and pecuniary, in case of foreign invasion. To this end, the President -has proclaimed that there be raised in this country, either by loan or -force, the sum of sixteen millions of reals, or two millions dollars; -and further, that twenty thousand men be called to serve under arms, -in order to assist the sister republic. The President declares his -intention to oppose Flores and all countries rendering him aid, and -accuses Peru of fitting out two vessels, and Valparaiso one, to assist -in his expedition; he also demands authority to confiscate the -property of all natives and foreigners residing in New Grenada, who -may be found to have aided or abetted Flores in any way in his present -revolutionary movement. He further states his belief that Flores is -merely endeavoring to carry out his revolutionary movement of 1846, in -which he was defeated by the British Government, and that the object -of the present revolution is to re-establish a monarchical government -on the South Pacific coast, under the old Spanish rule. He also -expresses his fears that Flores, if successful in Ecuador, will -immediately come into New Grenada, and therefore deems it not only a -matter of honor, but also of policy, to assist Ecuador. Among the -documents submitted, is an official letter to the Ecuadorian -Government, from the United States Chargé d'Affairs at Guayaquil, the -Hon. C. CUSHING; in which he says that "he believes himself -sufficiently authorized to state that the Government of the United -States will not look with indifference at any warlike movements -against Ecuador, likely to effect its independence or present -government." At the latest dates, the 27th of April, Flores was still -at Puna, delaying his attack upon that place until the war he had -endeavored to excite between Peru and Ecuador, should break out. He -then expected sufficient aid from Peru to render his capture of the -place easy. Other accounts represent his forces as being rapidly -diminished by desertion; but these can scarcely be deemed authentic. -Reliable intelligence had reached Guayaquil that Peru had sent -reinforcements to the fleet of Flores, and this had created so great -an excitement that the residence of the Peruvian Consul was attacked -and demolished by a mob. - - -GREAT BRITAIN. - -The intelligence from England extends from the 19th of April to the -22d of May, and embraces several items of more than ordinary interest. -Parliament re-assembled on the day first named, after the holiday -recess. In the House of Commons a committee was appointed, to inquire -into the condition of the British Empire in India,--after a speech -upon that subject from the President of the Board of Control, who -took occasion to say that the affairs of that country had never before -stood upon so good a footing, or in a position so well calculated to -develop its resources. There were now 2846 natives employed in -administrative offices, and forty educational establishments had been -endowed, in which the instruction given was of the highest -character.----On the 22d, Mr. Milner Gibson submitted a motion adverse -to continuing the duty upon paper, the stamp duties upon newspapers, -and the advertisement taxes. The proposition gave rise to a protracted -discussion, in which the injurious character of these duties, in -restricting the general diffusion of knowledge among the poorer -classes of the English people, was very generally admitted, and a wish -was expressed on all sides to have them removed. But the Chancellor of -the Exchequer feared the effect of such a step upon the revenue of the -kingdom--which the proposal would sacrifice to the extent of a million -and a half of pounds. Upon his motion the debate was adjourned until -the 12th of May, when it was renewed. Mr. Gladstone spoke earnestly in -exposition of the depressing influence of these taxes upon the -production and sale of books, but conceded full weight to the -financial reasons which had been urged against their removal. The vote -was then taken, first, upon the motion to abolish the paper duty as -soon as it could be done with safety to the revenue: which received -ayes, 107--noes, 195; being lost by a majority of 88; next, upon the -abolition of the stamp duty on newspapers; for which there were ayes, -100--noes, 199: majority against it, 99; and lastly, upon the motion -to abolish the tax upon advertisements, for which there were 116 ayes, -and 181 noes, and which was thus rejected by a majority of 65.----On -the 23d of April, the Militia Bill came up; and was supported by the -Ministerial party, and opposed by the late Ministers. Lord John -Russell opposed it, because he deemed it inadequate to the emergency. -The 41,000 infantry which it proposed to raise, he deemed -insufficient, and the character of the force provided, he feared would -make it unreliable. Lord Palmerston vindicated the bill against Lord -John's objections, and thought it at once less expensive and more -efficient than the one submitted by the late government. On the 26th, -to which the debate was adjourned, after further discussion, the -second reading of the bill was carried by 315 to 105.----The bill came -up again on the 6th, when Mr. Disraeli declared that its main object -was to habituate the people of Great Britain to the use of arms, and -thus to lay the foundation of a constitutional system of national -defense. He did not claim that the bill would at once produce a -disciplined army, able to encounter the veteran legions of the world; -but it would be a step in the right direction. After the debate, an -amendment, moved by Mr. Gibson, that the words 80,000 should not form -part of the bill, was rejected, 106 to 207. On the 13th, the debate -was renewed, and several other amendments, designed to embarrass the -bill, were rejected. But up to our latest dates, the vote on its final -passage had not been taken.----On the 10th of May, the Ministry was -defeated, upon a motion of the Chancellor of the Exchequer for leave -to bring in a bill to assign the four seats in Parliament, which would -be vacated if the bill for the disfranchisement of the borough of St. -Albans should pass. He proposed to assign two of these seats to the -West-Riding of Yorkshire, and the other two to the southern division -of the county of Lancaster. The motion was lost: receiving 148 votes -in favor, and 234 against it--being an anti-Ministerial majority of -86.----The Tenant Right Bill, intended to meliorate the condition of -land cultivators in Ireland, was rejected on the 5th, by a vote of 57 -to 167, upon the second reading.----The Court of Exchequer having -decided against the right of Alderman Salomons to take his seat in -Parliament, Lord Lyndhurst has introduced a bill to remove Jewish -disabilities.----The Duke of Argyle called attention, on the 17th, to -the case of Mr. Murray, an Englishman, who was said to have been -imprisoned for several years in Rome, without a trial, and to be now -lying under sentence of death. The Earl of Malmesbury said that -strenuous efforts had been made to procure reliable information upon -this case; but that great difficulty had been experienced, in -consequence of the very defective and unworthy provisions which -existed for diplomatic intercourse with the Roman government. The Duke -of Argyle thought that the English government owed to its own dignity -some energetic action upon this case. The correspondence upon this -subject, as also that with Austria upon the expulsion of Protestant -missionaries from that country, was promised at an early day. On the -27th of April, Mr. Disraeli, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, made the -annual statement of the financial condition and necessities of the -kingdom, which had been awaited with great interest, as an official -announcement of the intended course of the new Ministry upon the -subject of taxation. He discussed, in succession, the three modes of -deriving income--from duties on imports, duties on domestic -manufactures, and direct taxation. During the last ten years, under -the policy established in 1842 by Sir Robert Peel, the duties upon -corn and other articles of import, have been reduced, in the -aggregate, upward of nine million pounds sterling; and this reduction -had been so steadily and regularly made every year, that any -proposition to restore them would now have very slight chances of -success. In the excise duties, also, there had been reductions to the -amount of a million and a half; and it was clear that the Minister who -should propose to increase the revenue by adding to the duties on -domestic manufactures, could not expect to be sustained by the House -or the country. The income tax had been very unpopular, and could only -be renewed last year, for a single year, and then with very -considerable modifications. Comparing the actual income of the past -year, with that which had been estimated, Mr. Disraeli said that, -while it had been estimated at £52,140,000, the actual income had been -£52,468,317, notwithstanding the loss of £640,000 by the change of the -house tax for the window duty, and the reduction in the coffee, -timber, and sugar duties. The customs had been estimated to produce -£20,000,000. After deducting the anticipated loss, £400,000, on -account of the three last-named duties, they had produced £20,673,000; -and the consumption of the articles on which the duties had been -reduced had increased--foreign coffee by 3,448,000 lbs., as compared -with 1851, when the higher and differential duty prevailed; and -colonial coffee from 28,216,000 lbs. to 29,130,000 lbs. Foreign sugar -had increased in the last year by 412,000 cwts., and since 1846 (when -the first reduction took place) by 1,900,000 cwts. a year; British -colonial sugar, by upward of 114,000 in 1852, as compared with 1851; -and during the last six years the consumption had increased 95,000 -tons, or 33 per cent. on the consumption of 1846; and in timber the -result was the same. The other heads of revenue had been thus -estimated: Excise, £14,543,000; stamps, £6,310,000; taxes, £4,348,000; -property tax, £5,380,000; Post-office, £830,000; Woods and Forests, -£160,000; miscellaneous, £262,000; old stores, £450,000; and had -produced respectively £14,543,000, £6,346,000, £3,691,000, £5,283,000, -£1,056,000, £150,000, £287,000, and £395,000. The expenditure of the -year, estimated at £50,247,000, had been £50,291,000, and the surplus -in hand was £2,176,988. The expenditure for the current year he -estimated at £51,163,979, including an additional vote to be proposed -of £200,000 for the Kaffir war, and another of £350,000 for the -expenses of the militia. The income, which in some items had been -increased by the Exhibition last year, was estimated for the next year -thus--Customs, £20,572,000; Excise, £14,604,000; stamps, £6,339,000; -taxes, £3,090,000; property tax (the half-year), £2,641,500; -Post-office, £938,000; Woods and Forests, £235,000; miscellaneous, -£260,000; old stores, £400,000; total, £48,983,000, exhibiting a -deficiency of £2,180,479, which would be increased in the next year by -the total loss of the income tax, supposing it not to be renewed, to -£4,400,000. If, however, that tax were re-imposed, he calculated it -would produce net £5,187,000, which would give a gross income, from -all sources, of £51,625,000, the surplus would then be £461,021. And -though it would give him great pleasure to re-adjust the burdens of -taxation fairly and equally on all classes, and all interests, yet, -seeing the position of the finances, and the difficulty, if not -impossibility, of dealing with the subject in the present state of -feeling in the House and the country, he felt bound to propose the -re-imposition of the property and income tax for a further limited -period of one year. This statement was received by the House, as by -the whole country, as embodying a substantial tribute from the -Protectionist Ministry to the soundness of the Free Trade policy and -to the necessity of leaving it undisturbed. - -The annual dinner of the Royal Academy was attended on the 1st with -more than usual eclat. Sir Charles Eastlake presided, and proposed the -health of the Duke of Wellington, who duly acknowledged the -compliment. The Earl of Derby was present, and spoke encouragingly of -the prospect of having a better building soon erected for the -accommodation of the Academy's works. Pleasant compliments were -exchanged between Disraeli and Lord John Russell, and speeches were -made by sundry other dignitaries who were in attendance.----At the -Lord Mayor's dinner, on the 8th, the festivities partook more of a -political character. The Earl of Derby spoke long and eloquently of -the nature of the British Government, urging that in all its various -departments it was a compromise between conflicting expedients and a -system of mutual concessions between apparently conflicting interests. -Count Walewski, the French Minister, congratulated the company on the -good understanding which prevailed between France and England, and Mr. -Disraeli spoke of the House of Commons as a true republic--"the only -republic, indeed, that exists founded upon the principles of liberty, -equality, and fraternity; but liberty there was maintained by -order--equality is mitigated by good taste, and fraternity takes the -shape of cordial brotherhood."----The anniversary dinner of the Royal -Literary Fund took place on the 12th, and was chiefly distinguished by -an amusing speech from Thackeray. - -An important collision has occurred between the book publishers in -London and the retail booksellers, which has engrossed attention to no -inconsiderable extent. The publishers, it seems, have been in the -habit of fixing a retail price upon their books, and then selling them -to dealers at a deduction of twenty-five per cent. Some of the -latter, thinking to increase their sales thereby, have contented -themselves with a smaller rate of profit, and have sold their books at -less than the price fixed by the publishers. Against this the latter -have taken active measures of remonstrance, having formed an -association among themselves, and agreed to refuse to deal with -booksellers who should thus undersell the regular trade. On the other -hand the retail dealers have held meetings to assert their rights, and -one of them, held on the 4th, was attended by a very large number of -the authors and men of letters interested in the question. Mr. Dickens -presided, and a characteristic letter was read from Mr. Carlyle, who -was warmly in favor of the objects of the meeting, though he thought -many other things necessary to give authors their proper position in -society. The rights of the case were submitted to Lord Campbell, Mr. -Grote, and Dr. Milman, who heard both sides argued, and gave a -decision on the 18th, on all points _against_ the regulations for -which the publishers contended. - -Very sad intelligence has reached England of the fate of a party of -seven missionaries, who were sent out by the Protestant Missionary -Society, in 1850, to Patagonia. Captain Gardiner was at the head of -the band. The vessel that took them out landed at Picton Island, off -the southern coast of Terra del Fuego, on the 6th of December, 1850, -and kept hovering about to see how they were likely to be received. -The natives seemed menacing: but on the 18th of December the -missionaries left the ship, and with their stores of provisions, -Bibles, &c., embarked in two boats, meaning to make for the coast of -Terra del Fuego. On the 19th the ship sailed; and no news of them -having reached England, the ship _Dido_ was ordered by the Admiralty -in October, 1850, to touch there, and ascertain their fate. The _Dido_ -reached the coast in January, and after ten or twelve days of search, -on a rock near where they first landed on Picton Island, a writing was -found directing them to go to Spaniard Harbor, on the opposite Fuegan -coast. Here were found, near a large cavern, the unburied bodies of -Captain Gardiner and another of the party; and the next day the bodies -of three others were found. A manuscript journal, kept by Captain -Gardiner, down to the last day when, only two or three days before his -death, he became too weak to write, was also found, from which it -appeared that the parties were driven off by the natives whenever they -attempted to land; that they were thus compelled to go backward and -forward in their boats, and at last took refuge in Spaniard harbor, as -the only spot where they could be safe; that they lived there eight -months, partly in a cavern and partly under shelter of one of the -boats, and that three of them died by sickness, and the others by -literal and lingering starvation. Four months elapsed between the -death of the last of the party and the discovery of their bodies. The -publication of the journal of Captain Gardiner, in which profound -piety is shown mingled with his agonizing grief, has excited a deep -sensation throughout England.----An explosion occurred in a coal pit -in the Aberdare valley, South Wales, on the 10th, by which sixty-four -lives were lost; another pit near Pembrey filled with water the same -night, and twenty-seven men were drowned.----The fate of the Crystal -Palace was sealed by a vote in the House of Commons of 103 to 221 on a -proposition to provide for its preservation. It has been sold, and is -to be forthwith taken down, and re-erected out of town, for a winter -garden.----A memorial numerously and most respectably signed, was -presented to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, on the 17th of May, -praying that the Queen would extend clemency to the Irish State -prisoners now in exile at Van Dieman's Land. The Lord Lieutenant, in a -brief and direct speech, declined to lay the memorial before her -Majesty, on the ground that the exiles in question deserved no further -clemency at her hands. He noticed, with censure, the fact that one of -them had effected his escape. - - -FRANCE. - -The _fêtes_ of May 10th, were attended with great splendor and eclat; -but the non-proclamation of the Empire on that occasion is the feature -most remarked upon by the foreign press. The number of troops present -is estimated at 80,000. The whole Champ de Mars had been prepared -especially for the occasion. The President was received with loud -applause. After distributing the eagles among the various regiments, -he addressed them briefly, saying that the history of nations was, in -a great measure, the history of armies--that on their success or -reverse depends the fate of civilization and of the country; that the -Roman eagle adopted by the Emperor Napoleon at the commencement of the -century was the most striking signification of the regeneration and -the grandeur of France; and that it should now be resumed, not as a -menace against foreign powers, but as the symbol of independence, the -souvenir of an heroic epoch, and as the sign of the nobleness of each -regiment. After this address the standards were taken to the chapel -and blessed by the Archbishop. The ceremonies were protracted and -attended by an immense concourse of spectators.----General Changarnier -has addressed a remarkable letter to the Minister of the Interior in -reply to his demand that he should take the oath of allegiance to -Louis Napoleon. He says that the President had repeatedly endeavored -to seduce him to his support--that he had offered not only to make him -Marshal but to confer upon him another military dignity unknown since -the Empire, and to attach to it immense pecuniary rewards; that when -he perceived that personal ambition had no effect upon him, he -endeavored to gain him over, by pretending a design to prepare the way -for the restoration of the Monarchy to which he supposed him to be -attached. All these attempts had been without effect. He had never -ceased to be ready to defend with energy the legal powers of Louis -Napoleon, and to give every opposition to the illegal prolongation of -those powers. The exile he had undergone in solitude and silence had -not changed his opinion of the duties he owed to France. He would -hasten to her defense should she be attacked, but he refused the oath -exacted by the perjured man who had failed to corrupt him. In reply to -this letter, M. Cassagnac, editor of the _Constitutionnel_, brought -against General Changarnier specific charges--that in March, 1849, he -demanded from Louis Napoleon written authority to throw the -Constituent Assembly out of the window--that he subsequently urged him -in the strongest manner to make a _coup d'etat_; and that in November, -1850, he assembled a number of political personages, and proposed to -them to arrest Louis Napoleon and send him to prison, to prorogue the -Assembly for six months, and to make him Dictator. It was further -alleged that one of the persons present at this meeting was M. Molé, -who refused to sanction the scheme and immediately disclosed it to the -President. Count Molé immediately published an indignant denial of the -whole story, so far as his name had been connected with it.----General -Lamoriciere has, also, in a published letter, refused to take the oath -required; he declares his readiness to defend France against foreign -foes whenever she shall be attacked, but he will not take the oath of -fidelity to a perjured chief.----The venerable astronomer, Arago, has -also refused to take the oath of allegiance required of all connected -in any way with the government. He wrote a firm and dignified letter -to the Minister notifying him of his purpose, and calling on him to -designate the day when it would be necessary for him to quit the -Bureau of Longitude with which he had been so closely connected for -half a century. He also informed him that he should address a circular -letter to scientific men throughout the world, explaining the -necessity which drove him from an establishment with which his name -had been so long associated, and to vindicate his motives from -suspicion. The Minister informed him that, in consideration of his -eminent services to the cause of science, the government had decided -not to exact the oath, and that he could therefore retain his -post.----These examples of non-concurrence in the new policy of the -President have been followed by inferior magistrates in various parts -of France. In several of the departments members of the local councils -have refused to take the oaths of allegiance, and in the towns of -Havre, Thiers, and Evreux the tribunals of commerce have done -likewise. The civil courts of Paris have also, in one or two -instances, asserted their independence by deciding against the -government in prosecutions commenced against the press. On the 23d of -April, moreover, the civil tribunal gave judgment on the demand made -by the Princes of the Orleans family to declare illegal the seizure by -the Prefect of the Seine, of the estates of Neuilly and Monceaux, -under the decree of the 22d of January, relative to the property of -the late king, Louis Philippe. In answer to this demand, the Prefect -of the Seine, in the name of the government, called on the tribunal to -declare that the decree of 22d January was a legislative act, and the -seizure of the property an administrative act, and that consequently -the tribunal had no jurisdiction. The case was pleaded at great -length; and the court pronounced a judgment declaring itself -competent, keeping the case before it, fixing a day for discussing it -on its merits, and condemning the Prefect in costs. These movements -indicate a certain degree of reaction in the public mind, and have -prepared the way for the favorable reception of a letter which the -Bourbon pretender, the Count de Chambord, has issued to the partisans -of monarchy throughout France. This letter is dated at Venice, April -27, and is designed as an official declaration of his wishes to all -who wish still to remain faithful to the principles which he -represents. He declares it to be the first duty of royalists to do no -act, to enter into no engagement, in opposition to their political -faith. They must not hesitate, therefore, to refuse all offices where -promises are required from them contrary to their principles, and -which would not permit them to do in all circumstances what their -convictions impose upon them. Still, important and active duties are -devolved upon them. They should reside as much as possible in the -midst of the population on whom they can exercise influence, and -should try, by rendering themselves useful to them, to acquire, each -day, still greater claims to their gratitude and confidence. They -ought also to aid the government in its struggles against anarchy and -socialism, and to show themselves in all emergencies the most -courageous defenders of social order. Even in case of an attempt to -re-establish the Empire, they are exhorted to abstain from doing any -thing to endanger the repose of the country, but to protest formally -against any change which can endanger the destinies of France, and -expose it once more to catastrophes and perils from which the -legitimate monarchy alone can save it. He urges them to be unalterable -on matters of principle, but at the same time calm, patient, and ever -moderate and conciliating toward persons. "Let your ranks, your -hearts," he says, "like mine, remain continually open to all. We are -all thrown on times of trials and of sacrifices; and my friends will -not forget that it is from the land of exile that I make this new -appeal to their constancy and their devotedness. Happier days are yet -in store for France and for us. I am certain of the fact. It is in my -ardent love for my country--it is in the hope of serving it--of being -able to serve it--that I gather the strength and the courage necessary -for me to accomplish the great duties which have been imposed on me by -Providence."----Additional importance is ascribed to this proclamation -from the fact that it was made just after a visit from the Grand Dukes -of Russia and Venice, and just before the arrival of the Emperor -Nicholas at Vienna. The death of Prince Schwarzenberg is supposed to -have led to a still closer union of interest and of policy between -Austria and Russia, as the personal leanings both of the Austrian -Emperor, and the new prime Minister are known to be in that direction. - -Some further developments have been made of the sentiments of the -three allied powers, Austria, Russia, and Prussia, concerning the -re-establishment of the Empire in France. It is represented that the -late Minister of Austria was in favor of encouraging such a step, but -that both the other powers concurred in saying that the accomplishment -of it would be a "violation of the treaties of 1814 and 1815, inasmuch -as those treaties have excluded for ever the family of Bonaparte from -the government of France." Now, those treaties form the basis of the -whole policy of Europe; and it is the duty of the powers to demand -that they shall be respected by the President of the Republic himself -in all their provisions, and particularly not to permit any infraction -of them as to the point in question, which has reference to him -personally. Nevertheless, the sovereigns of Prussia and Russia would -not perhaps be disposed to refuse to recognize Louis Napoleon -Bonaparte as Emperor of the French Republic--if that title were -conferred on him by a new plébiscite--as had been spoken of but they -should only recognize him as an elective Emperor, and for life, with -only a status analogous to that of the former kings of Poland. If the -two cabinets of St. Petersburg and Berlin consented to such a -recognition, it was the utmost that it was possible to do; but, most -certainly, beyond that point they should never go. At the same time, -the cabinets formally declare, that they would only recognize the -Emperor of the French Republic on the condition of his election being -the result of the mode already announced (the plébiscite). They will -not admit any other manner of re-establishing in France an imperial -throne, even were it but for life; the two sovereigns being firmly -resolved never to accept in the person of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, -any other than the supreme elective chief of the Republic, and to -oppose by all the means in their power the pretension of establishing -the actual President of the French Republic as Emperor, in the sense -of an hereditary transmitter or founder of a Napoleonian dynasty. They -add, that Louis Napoleon Bonaparte not being the issue of a sovereign -or reigning family, can not become a real sovereign, or assimilate -himself to reigning houses.----The pictures belonging to the late -Marshal Soult were sold at auction on the 19th. The collection -consisted of 157 paintings, and among them were many of the -master-pieces of the old masters. The most celebrated was Murillo's -'Conception of the Virgin,' for which the chief competitors were the -Emperor of Russia, the Queen of Spain, and the Director of the Louvre. -It was bought by the latter at the enormous price of 586,000 -francs,--or about $117,200. - - -EASTERN AND SOUTHERN EUROPE. - -In PRUSSIA, a communication was made on the 28th of April by the King -to the Chambers, transmitting a bill to abolish the articles of the -Constitution and regulate the organization of the peerage. In the -First Chamber it was referred to the existing committee on the -constitution of the body concerned. In the Second Chamber a committee -was appointed to consider the measure. The minister desired that the -matter might be quickly dispatched. In the same sitting of the 28th, -the Second Chamber came to two other important votes. It rejected, by -a majority of 186 to 82, the resolution of the First Chamber, and -which, dividing the budget of ordinary and extraordinary expenses, -decided that the first should be no longer fixed annually, but once -for all, and that no future modification should take place, except by -a law. It also rejected, by 225 to 57, another decision of the First -Chamber, by which it had declared, in opposition to the Constitution, -that it could vote the budget, article by article, like the Second -Chamber. - -In TUSCANY a decree of the Grand Duke has abolished the Constitution -and Civic Guard, and constituted the government on the same basis as -before 1848. The ministers are henceforward responsible to the Grand -Duke; the Council of State is separated from that of the Ministers; -the communal law of 1849 and the law on the press are to be revised. - -The DANISH question has been settled in London, by conferences of the -representatives of the several powers concerned. Prince Christian of -Glucksberg is to succeed to the crown on the death of the present King -and his brother, both of whom are childless. - -In TURKEY all differences with Egypt have been adjusted. Fuad-Effendi, -it is announced by the Paris _Presse_, justifying all the hopes which -his mission had given birth to, has come to a complete understanding -with the Egyptian government, whose good intentions and perfect fair -dealing he admits. The Viceroy accepts the code with the modifications -called for by the state of the country, and which the Turco-Egyptian -Commissioners had already fixed in their conferences at -Constantinople. On its side, the Porte accords to the Viceroy the -right of applying the punishment of death during seven years, without -reference to the divan. - - - - -Editor's Table. - - -The birth-day of a nation is not merely a figurative expression. -Nations are _born_ as well as men. The very etymology of the word -implies as much. Social compacts may be _declarative of their -independence_, or definitive of their existence, but do not create -them. In truth, all such compacts and conventions do in themselves -imply a previous natural growth or organization lying necessarily -still farther back, as the ground of any legitimacy they may possess. -There can be no _con-vening_ unless there is something to determine, -_a priori_, who shall _come together_, and how they shall come -together--as _representatives_ of what _principals_--as _parts_ of -what ascertained _whole_--with what powers, on what terms, and for -what ends. There can no more be an artificial nation than an -artificial language. Aside from other influences, all attempts of the -kind must be as abortive in politics as they have ever been in -philology. Nations are not manufactured, either to order or otherwise, -but born--born of other nations, and nurtured in those peculiar -arrangements of God's providence which are expressly adapted to such a -result. The analogy between them and individuals may be traced to -almost any extent. They have, in general, some one event in which -there may be discovered the conceptive principle, or _principium_, of -their national life. They have their embryo or formative period. They -have their _birth_, or the time of their complete separation from the -maternal nationality to which they were most nearly and dependently -united. They have their struggling infancy--their youth--their -growth--_their heroic period_--their iron age of hardship -and utility--their manhood--their silver age of luxury and -refinement--their golden age of art and science and literature--their -acme--their decline--their decay--their final extinction, or else -their dissolution into those fragmentary organisms from which spring -up again the elements or seeds of future nationalities. - -We need not trace our own history through each of these periods. The -incipient stages have all been ours, although, in consequence of a -more healthy and vigorous maternity, we have passed through them with -a rapidity of which the previous annals of the world present no -examples. Less than a century has elapsed since that birth, whose -festive natal day is presented in the calendar of the present month, -and yet we are already approaching the season of manhood. We have -passed that proud period which never comes but once in a nation's -life, although it may be succeeded by others far surpassing it in what -may be esteemed the more substantial elements of national wealth and -national prosperity. Almost every state has had its HEROIC AGE. We too -have had ours, and we may justly boast of it as one equaling in -interest and grandeur any similar period in the annals of Greece and -Rome--as one which would not shrink from a comparison with the -chivalrous youth of any of the nations of modern Europe. It is the -unselfish age, or rather, the time when the self-consciousness, both -individual and national, is lost in some strong and all-absorbing -emotion--when a strange elevation of feeling and dignity of action are -imparted to human nature, and men act from motives which seem -unnatural and incredible to the more calculating and selfish -temperaments of succeeding times. It is a period which seems designed -by Providence, not for itself only, or the great effects of which it -is the immediate cause, but for its influence upon the whole -after-current of the national existence. The strong remembrance of it -becomes a part of the national life; it enters into its most common -and constant thinking, gives a peculiar direction to its feeling; it -imparts a peculiar character to its subsequent action; it makes its -whole historical being very different from what it would have been had -there been no such epic commencement, no such superhuman or _heroic -birth_. It furnishes a treasury of glorious reminiscences wherewith to -reinvigorate from time to time the national virtue when impaired, as -it ever is, by the factious, and selfish, and unheroic temper produced -by subsequent days of merely economical or utilitarian prosperity. - -This heroic age must pass away. It is sustained, while it lasts, by -special influences which can not have place in the common life and -ordinary work of humanity. Its continuance, therefore, would be -inconsistent with other benefits and other improvements of a more -sober or less exciting kind, but which, nevertheless, belong to the -proper development of the state. The deep effects, however, still -remain. It inspires the poet and the orator. It furnishes the -historian with his richest page. It tinges the whole current of the -national literature. In fact, there can be no such thing as a national -literature, in its truest sense--there can be no national poetry, no -true national art, no national music, except as more or less -intimately connected with the spirit of such a period. - -It was not the genius of democracy simply, as Grote and some other -historians maintain, but the heroic remembrances of the Persian -invasion, that roused the Grecian mind, and created the brilliant -period of the Grecian civilization. The new energy that came from this -period was felt in every department--of song, of eloquence, of art, -and even of philosophy. Marathon and Salamis still sustained the -national life when it was waning under the mere political wisdom of -Pericles, the factious recklessness of Alcibiades, and the still more -debasing influence of the venal demagogues of later times. When this -old spirit had gone out, there was nothing in the mere forms of her -free institutions that could prevent Athens from sinking down into -insignificance, or from being absorbed in the growth of new and rising -powers. - -Rome would never have been the mistress of the world, had it not been -for the heroic impetus generated in the events which marked her -earliest annals. Even if we are driven to regard these as in a great -measure mythical, they still, in the highest and most valid sense, -belong to Roman history, and all the efforts of Niebuhr and of Arnold -have failed, and ever will fail, to divest them of the rank they have -heretofore maintained among the formative influences in the Roman -character. They entered into the national memory. They formed for ages -the richest and most suggestive part of the national thinking. They -became thus more really and vitally incorporated into the national -being than many events whose historical authenticity no critic has -ever called in question. But we can not believe them wholly or even -mainly mythical. Some of the more modern theories on this subject will -have to be re-examined. With all their plausibility they are open to -the objection of presenting the mightiest effects without adequate or -corresponding causes. Twelve hundred years of empire, such as that of -Rome, could not well have had its origin in any period marked by -events less strangely grand and chivalrous than those that Livy has -recorded. Brutus, and Cincinnatus, and Fabricius, must have been as -real as the splendid reality which could only have grown out of so -heroic an ancestry. The spirit of Numa more truly ruled, even in the -later Roman empire, than did ever that of Augustus. It was yet -powerful in the days of Constantine. It was still present in that -desperate struggle which made it difficult, even for a Christian -senate, to cast out the last vestiges of the old religion, and to -banish the Goddess of Victory from the altars and temples she had so -long occupied. - -A similar view, drawn from the Jewish history, must commend itself to -every one who has even an ordinary knowledge of the Scriptures. The -glorious deliverances from Egyptian bondage, the sublime reminiscences -of Sinai, the heroic, as exhibited in Moses, and Joshua, and Jephthah, -and Gideon, are ever reappearing in the Hebrew prophetic and lyrical -poetry. These proud recollections cheer them in the long years of the -captivity. Even in the latest and most debasing periods of their -history, they impart an almost superhuman energy to their struggle -with Rome; and what is more than all, after having sustained the -Jewish song, and the Jewish eloquence, during ages of depressing -conflict, their influence is still felt in all the noblest departments -of Christian art and Christian literature. - -No, we may almost say it, there can not truly be a nation without -something that may be called its heroic age; or if there have been -such, the want of this necessary fountain of political vitality has -been the very reason why they have perished from the pages of history. -We, too, have had such a period in our annals, and we are all the -better for it, and shall be all the better for it, as long as our -political existence shall endure. Some such chapter in our history -seems necessary to legitimate our claim to the appellation; and -however extravagant it may seem, the assertion may, nevertheless, be -hazarded, that one borrowed from the maternal nationality, or from a -foreign source, or even altogether mythical, would be better than none -at all. If we had not had our Pilgrim Fathers, our Mayflower band, our -Plymouth Rock, our Bunker Hill, our Saratoga, our Washingtons, our -Warrens, our Putnams, our Montgomerys, our heroic martyr-Congresses, -voting with the executioner and the ax before their eyes, we might -better have drawn upon the epic imagination for some such introduction -to our political existence, than regard it as commencing merely with -prosaic paper compacts, or such artificial gatherings as are presented -in your unheroic, though very respectable Baltimore and Harrisburg -Conventions. - -Some such chivalrous commencement is, moreover, absolutely essential -to that great idea of national _continuity_, so necessary for the -highest ends of political organization; and yet so liable to be -impaired or wholly lost in the strife of those ephemeral parties, -those ever-gathering, ever-dissolving factions, which, ignoring both -the future and the past, are absorbed solely in the magnified -interests of the present hour. For this purpose, we want an antiquity -of some kind--even though it may not be a distant one--something -parted from us by events so grand, so unselfish, so unlike the common, -every-day acts of the current years, as to have the appearance at -least of a sacred and memory-hallowed remoteness. We need to have our -store of glorious olden chronicles, over which time has thrown his -robe of reverence--a reverence which no profane criticism of after -days shall be allowed to call in question, no subsequent statistics be -permitted to impair. We need to have our proud remembrances for all -parties, for all interests, for all ages--our common fund of heroic -thought, affording a constant supply for the common mind of the state, -thus ever living in the national history, connecting each present not -only with such a heroic commencement, but, through it, with all the -past that intervenes, and in this way furnishing a historical bond of -union stronger than can be found in any amount of compromises or paper -constitutions. - -If we would be truly a State, we must have "_the Fathers_," and the -revered "olden time." It is in some such veneration for a common -glorious ancestry that a political organization finds its deepest -root. Instead of being absurd, it is the most rational, as well as the -most conservative of all feelings in which we can indulge. The more we -are under its influence, the higher do we rise in the scale of being -above the mere animal state, and that individualism which is its chief -characteristic. It is a "good and holy thought" thus to regard the -dead as still present with us, and past generations as still having an -interest in our history--still justly claiming some voice in the -administration of that _inheritance_ they have transmitted to us, and -in respect to which our influence over the ages to come will be in -proportion to our reverential remembrance of those that have preceded. -Such a feeling is the opposite of that banefully radical and -disorganizing view which regards the state as a mere aggregation of -individual local fragments in space, and a succession of -separately-flowing drops in time--which looks upon the present -majority of the present generation as representing the whole national -existence, and which is, of course, not only inconsistent with any -true historical life, but with any thing which is really entitled to -the name of fundamental or constitutional law. It is the opposite, -both in its nature and its effects, of that contemptible cant now so -common in both political parties, and which is ever talking of "Young -America" as some new development, unconnected with any thing that has -ever gone before it. The heroic men of our revolution, they were -"Young America;" the gambling managers of modern political caucuses, -to whatever party they may belong, or whatever may be their age or -standing, are the real and veritable "old fogies." - -We can not attach too much importance to this idea of _inheritance_, -so deeply grounded in the human mind. The _Sancti Patres_ are -indispensable to a true historical nationality. Hence the classical -name for country--_Patria a patribus_--_The Father-land_. We love it, -not simply for its present enjoyments and present associations, but -for its past recollections-- - - Land of the Pilgrims' pride, - Land where our fathers died. - -Without some such thought of transmitted interest continually carrying -the past into the present, and both into the future, patriotism is but -the cant of the demagogue. Our country is our country, not only in -space, but in time--not only territorially, but historically; and it -is in this latter aspect it must ever present its most intense and -vital interest. Where such an interest is excluded, or unappreciated, -there is nothing elevated, nothing heroic, to which the name of -patriotism can be given. There is nothing but the most momentary -selfishness which can bind our affections to one spot on earth more -than to any other. - -Opposed to this is a species of cosmopolitanism, which sometimes -claims the Scriptures as being on its side. The opinion, however, will -not stand the test of fair interpretation. The Bible, it is true, -enjoins love to all mankind, but not as a blind and abstract -philanthropy which would pass over all the intermediate gradations -that Infinite Wisdom has appointed. Love of "the fathers," love of -family, love of kindred, love of "our own people"--"our own, -our _native_ land"--our "own Zion," nationally, as well as -ecclesiastically, are commended, not only as good in themselves, but -as the foundation of all the other social virtues, as the appointed -means, in fact, by which the circle of the affections is legitimately -expanded, and, at the same time, with a preservation of that intensity -of feeling which is never found in any inflating abstract cosmopolitan -benevolence. - -In no book, too, do we find more distinctly set forth that idea which -we have styled the root of all true patriotism--the idea of the -national continuance from generation to generation, as a living, -responsible whole--as one ever-flowing stream, in which the individual -parts are passing away, it is true but evermore passing to that -"congregation of the fathers" which still lives in the present organic -life. It is presented, too, not as any difficult or transcendental or -mystical conception, but as a thought belonging everywhere to the -common mind, and necessarily underlying all those dread views the -Scripture so often give us of national accountability and national -retribution. - -Every country distinguished for great deeds has ever been proud of its -ancestors; has ever gloried in the facts of its early history; has -ever connected them with whatever was glorious in its later annals has -ever made them the boast of its eloquence, the themes of its poetry, -and the subjects of festal rejoicings. In the preservation of such -feelings and such ideas, our annual Fourth of July celebrations -instead of being useless, and worse than useless periods of noisy -declamation, as some would contend, are, in fact, doing more to -preserve our union than the strongest legislative acts. This may hold -when every other cable in the vessel has parted. The bare thought that -our glorious old Fourth of July could never more be celebrated in its -true spirit (and it would be equally gone for each and every sundered -fragment) is enough to check the wildest faction, and to stay the hand -of the most reckless disunionist. - -It was in view of such an effect, that one of our wisest statesmen, -one the farthest removed from the demagogue, and himself a -participator in our heroic struggle, is represented as so -enthusiastically commending this annual festival to the perpetual -observation of posterity, "Through the thick gloom of the present," he -exclaims, "I see the brightness of the future as the sun in heaven. We -shall make this _a glorious, an immortal day_. When we are in our -graves our children will honor it. They will celebrate it with -thanksgiving, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its -annual return, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears of -exultation of gratitude, and of joy." "And so that day _shall_ be -honored," continues his eloquent eulogist--"And so that day shall be -honored, illustrious prophet and patriot! so that day shall be -honored, and as often as it returns thy renown shall come along with -it, and the glory of thy life, like the day of thy death, shall not -fail from the remembrance of men!" - -The highest reason, then, as well as the purest feeling, bid us not be -ashamed of glorying in our forefathers. Scripture is in unison here -with patriotism in commending the sacred sentiment. There is a -religious element in the true love of race and country. "The God of -our Fathers" becomes a prime article of the national as well as of the -ecclesiastical creed, and without the feeling inspired by it, -nationality may turn out to be a mere figment, which all political -bandages will fail to sustain against the disorganizing influence of -factious or sectional interests. It is not absurd, too, to cherish the -belief that our ancestors were better men than ourselves, if we -ourselves are truly made better by thus believing. - -As we have remarked before, there may be mythical exaggeration -attending such tradition, but if so, this very exaggeration must have -had its ground in something really transcending what takes place in -the ordinary course of a nation's life. Some late German scholars have -been hunting out depreciating charges against the hero of Marathon, -and, for this purpose, have subjected his very ashes to the most -searching critical analysis. Truth, it may be said, is always sacred. -We would not wish to undervalue the importance of the sentiment. But -Miltiades the patriot is the real element that exerted so heroic an -effect upon the subsequent Grecian history. Miltiades charged with -political offenses lives only as the subject of antiquarian research, -or a humiliating example of the common depravity appearing among the -most lauded of mankind. And so, in our own case, what political -utility can there be in discovering, even if it were so, that -Washington was not so wise, or Warren so brave, or Putnam so -adventurous, or Bunker Hill so heroically contested, as has been -believed? Away with such skepticism, we say, and the mousing criticism -by which it is sometimes attempted to be supported. Such beliefs have -at all events become real for us by entering into the very soul of our -history, and forming the staple of our national thought. To take them -away would now be a baneful disorganizing of the national mind. Their -influence has been felt in every subsequent event. Saratoga and -Monmouth have reappeared in Chippewa, and New Orleans, and Buena -Vista. May it not be hoped, too, that something of the men who -convened in Philadelphia on the 4th of July, 1776, or of that earlier -band on whom Burke pronounced his splendid eulogy, may still live, -even in the worst and poorest of our modern Congresses! - -Again, this reverence for "the fathers" is the most healthfully -conservative of all influences, because it presents the common sacred -ground on which all political parties, all sectional divisions, and -all religious denominations can heartily unite. Every such difference -ought to give way, and, in general, does give way, in the presence of -the healing spirit that comes to us from the remembrance of those old -heroic times. The right thinking Episcopalian not only acquiesces, but -rejoices cordially in the praises of the Pilgrim Fathers. He can glory -even in their stern puritanism, without losing a particle of reverence -or respect for his own cherished views. The Presbyterian glows with -pride at the mention of the cavaliers of Virginia, and sees in their -ancient loyalty the strength and consistency of their modern -republicanism. The most rigid Churchman of either school--whether of -Canterbury or Geneva--finds his soul refreshed by the thought of that -more than martial heroism which distinguished the followers of Penn -and the first colonists of Pennsylvania. - -Our rapid editorial view has been suggested by the great festal period -of the current month; but we can not close it without the expression -of one thought which we deem of the highest importance. If the -influences coming from this heroic age of our history are so very -precious, we should be careful not to diminish their true conservative -power, by associating them with every wretched imitation for which -there may be claimed the same or a similar name. The memory of our -revolution (to which we could show, if time permitted, there should be -given a truer and a nobler epithet) is greatly lowered by being -compared continually with every miserable Cuban expedition and -Canadian invasion, or every European _émeute_, without any reference -to the grounds on which they are attempted, or the characters and -motives of those by whom they are commenced. We may indeed sympathize -with every true effort to burst the hard bonds of irresponsible power; -but we should carefully see to it that our own sacred deposit of -glorious national reminiscences lose not all its reverence by being -brought out for too common uses, or profaned by too frequent -comparison with that which is really far below it, if not altogether -of a different kind. When Washington and Greene and Franklin are thus -placed side by side with Lopez, and Ledru-Rollin, and Louis Blanc, or -a profane parallel is run between the Pilgrim colonists and modern -Socialists and St. Simonians, there is only an inevitable degradation -on the one side without any true corresponding elevation on the other. -They are the enemies of our revolution, and of its true spirit, who -are thus for making it subservient to all purposes that may be -supposed to bear the least resemblance. Our fathers' struggle, be it -ever remembered, was not for the subversion but the conservation of -constitutional law, and, therefore, even its most turbulent and -seemingly lawless acts acquire a dignity placing them above all vulgar -reference, and all vulgar imitation. He is neither a patriot nor a -philanthropist who would compare the destruction of the tea in the -harbor of Boston with every abolition riot, or every resistance to our -own solemnly enacted laws, or every lynching mob that chooses to -caricature the forms of justice, or every French _émeute_, or -revolutionary movement with its mock heroics--its burlesque travestie -of institutions it can not comprehend, and of a liberty for which it -so soon shows itself utterly unqualified. It is our mission to redeem -and elevate mankind, by showing that the spirit of our heroic times -lives constantly in the political institutions to which they gave -birth, and that republican forms are perfectly consistent, not only -with personal liberty, but with all those higher ideas that are -connected with the conservation of law, of reverence, of loyalty, of -rational submission to right authority--in a word, of true -_self-government_, as the positive antithesis to that animal and -counterfeit thing--the _government of self_. It is not the -conservative who is staying the true progress of mankind. A licentious -press, a corrupt and gambling spirit of faction in our political -parties, and, above all, frequent exhibitions of vulgar demagoguism in -our legislative bodies, may do more to strengthen and perpetuate the -European monarchies, than all the ignorance of their subjects, and all -the power of their armies. - - - - -Editor's Easy Chair. - - -An Easy Chair for July, and specially for such hot July, as we doubt -not is just now ripening over our readers' heads, should be a cool -chair, with a lining of leather, rather than the soft plushes which -beguile the winter of its iciness. Just so, we should be on the -look-out in these hap-hazard pages, that close our monthly labors, for -what may be cooling in the way of talk; and should make our periods -wear such shadows as will be grateful to our sun-beaten readers. - -If by a touch of the pen, we could, for instance, build up a grove of -leaf-covered trees, with some pebble-bottomed brook fretting -below--idly, carelessly, impetuously--even as our pen goes fretting -over this Paris _feuille_; and if we could steep our type in that -summer fragrance which lends itself to the country groves of July; and -if we could superadd--like so many fragmentary sparkles of verse--the -songs of July birds--what a claimant of your thanks we should become? - -Much as a man may be street-ridden, after long city experience--even -as the old and rheumatic become bed-ridden--yet the far-off shores of -Hoboken, and the tree-whispers of St. John's and Grammercy Parks, do -keep alive somewhat of the Eden longings, which are born into the -world with us, and which can only die when our hearts are dead. - -And hence it is that we find it a loving duty to linger much and often -as we may in this sunny season of the year (alas, that it should be -only in imagination!) around rural haunts--plucking flowers with -broad-bonneted girls--studying shadows with artist eye--brushing the -dews away with farmers' boys--lolling in pools with sleek-limbed -cattle--dropping worms or minnow with artist anglers, and humming to -ourselves, in the soft and genial spirit of the scene, such old-time -pleasant verses as these: - - The lofty woods, the forests wide and long, - Adorned with leaves and branches fresh and green, - In whose cool bowers the birds with many a song - Do welcome with their quire the summer's queen; - The meadows fair, where Flora's gifts among - Are intermixed with verdant grass between; - The silver-scaled fish that softly swim - Within the sweet brook's crystal watery stream. - - All these and many more of His creation - That made the Heavens, the angler oft doth see; - Taking therein no little delectation, - To think how strange, how wonderful they be; - Framing, thereof, an inward contemplation, - To set his heart from other fancies free; - And while he looks on these with joyful eye, - His mind is rapt above the starry sky. - -And since we are thus in the humor of old and rural-imaged -verse--notwithstanding the puff and creak of the printing enginery is -coming up from the caverns below us (a very Vulcan to the Venus of our -thought) we shall ask your thanks for yet another triad of verses, -which will (if you be not utterly barren) breed daisies on your -vision. - -The poet has spoken of such omnibus drives and Perrine pavements as -offended good sense two or three hundred years ago: - - Let them that list these pleasures then pursue, - And on their foolish fancies feed their fill; - So I the fields and meadows green may view, - And by the rivers fresh may walk at will, - Among the daizies and the violets blue, - Red hyacinth, and yellow daffodil, - Purple narcissus like the morning rayes, - Pale ganderglas, and azure culverkayes. - - I count it better pleasure to behold - The goodly compass of the loftie skie; - And in the midst thereof, like burning gold, - The flaming chariot of the world's great eye; - The wat'ry clouds that in the ayre up rolled - With sundry kinds of painted colors flie; - And faire Aurora lifting up her head, - All blushing rise from old Tithonus' bed. - - The hills and mountains raised from the plains, - The plains extended level with the ground, - The ground divided into sundry vaines, - The vaines enclosed with running rivers round, - The rivers making way through Nature's chaines, - With headlong course into the sea profound; - The surging sea beneath the vallies low, - The vallies sweet, and lakes that gently flow. - -The reader may thank us for a seasonable bouquet--tied up with old -ribbon indeed, and in the old free and easy way--but the perfume is -richer than the artificial scents of your modern verse. - - * * * * * - -We do not know who first gave the epithet "leafy June;" but the -goodness of the term was never so plain, as through that twelfthlet of -the year which has just shadowed our paths. Whether it be the heavy -rains of the early spring, or an over-luxurious outburst from the -over-stiff chains of the last winter--certain it is, that the trees -never bore up such heaviness of green, or the grass promised such -height and "bottom." And we can not forbear the hope, that the -exceeding beauty of the summer will stimulate the activity and -benevolence of those guardians of our city joy, in whose hands lies -the fate of the "Up-town Park." - - * * * * * - -And as we speak of parks, comes up a thought of that very elegant -monument to the memory of Washington, which has risen out of the -brains of imaginative and venturesome people, any time during the last -fifty years. The affair seems to have a periodic and somewhat -whimsical growth. We suffer a kind of intermittent Washingtonianism, -which now and then shows a very fever of drawings, and of small -subscriptions; and anon, the chill takes us, and shakes the whole -fabric to the ground. - -We can not but regard it as a very unfavorable symptom, that a -corner-stone should have been laid some two or three years ago in a -quarter called Hamilton Square, and that extraordinary energy should -have pushed forward the monumental design to the height of a few feet. - -Since that period a debility has prevailed. The Washington sentiment -has languished painfully--proving to our mind most satisfactorily, -that the true Washington enthusiasm is periodic in its growth; and -that to secure healthful alternations of recruit and exuberance, it -should--like asparagus--be cut off below ground. - -Meantime, the strangers and office-seekers of our great capital, are -doing somewhat toward redeeming the fame of the country. In connection -with their design, a suggestion is just now bruited of calling upon -clergymen, this coming Fourth of July (three days hence, bear in mind) -to drop a hint to the memory of the hero who has made that day the -Sunday of our political year, and furthermore, to drop such pennies, -as his parishioners will bestow, into the Washington monumental fund. - -We should be untrue to the chit-chat of the hour--as well as to our -Washington fervor--if we did not give the suggestion a record, and the -purpose a benison! - - * * * * * - -It is fortunate for all minor matters--such as Jenny Lind, Kossuth, -green-peas, strawberries, and Lola Montez--that our President-making -comes only by quartettes of years. It is painful to think of the -monotone of talk which would overtake the world, if Baltimore -Conventions were held monthly or even yearly. - -We are writing now in the eye of the time; and can give no guess as to -what candidates will emerge from the Baltimore ballot-boxes; but when -this shall come under our reader's eye, two names only will form the -foci of his political fears and hopes. Without any predilections -whatever, we most ardently wish that our reader may not be -disappointed--however his hopes may tend: and if any editor in the -land can "trim" to his readers' humor, with greater sincerity, and -larger latitude, we should like to know it. - - * * * * * - -Ole Bull has been delighting the musical world, in his way, for the -month last gone, and has made more converts to the violin, by the -fullness of his faith, and the fervor of his action, than many -preachers can win over, by like qualities, to any labor of love. - -The truth is, there lies in this Scandinavian a heartiness of impulse, -and an exuberance of soul, which makes the better part of what men -call genius. You have a conviction--as you listen--that you are -dependent for your delight upon no nice conformity with rules--no -precision of compliance--no formulary excellence, but only and solely -upon the spirit of the man, creeping over him to the very finger-tips, -and making music and melody of very necessity. - -There is a freshness, a wildness, a _fierté_ in the harmonies that Ole -Bull creates, which appeal not alone to your nice students of flats -and sharps, but to every ear that ever heard a river flowing, or the -soughing of pine woods. It is a make-piece--not of Donizetti's -arias--but of that unceasing and musical hum which is going up every -summer's day in the way of bee-chants, and bird-anthems, and which the -soul-wakened Scandinavian has caught, and wrought and strung upon five -bits of thread! - -The papers (they are accountable for whatever may not be true in our -stories) have told us strange, sad things of the musical hero's life. -First, that he has been a great patron of the arts--nor is it easy to -believe that he could be otherwise. Next, they have told us, that he -is an earnest lover of such liberty as makes men think, and read, and -till their own lands--nor is this hard to believe. Again they tell us -that he has sometimes rendered himself obnoxious to the powers that -be--that his estates, once very large, have been confiscated, and that -he has come hitherward only for the sake of repairing his altered -fortunes. - -If the truth lie indeed so hardly upon him, we wish him even more -success than his merit will be sure to win. - -Among the _on dits_ of the time, we must not pass by the good and -ill-natured comments upon the new-passed Liquor Laws of Massachusetts -and of Rhode Island. When the reader remembers that Nahant and Newport -are within the limits of these two States, and that summer visitors to -the favorite watering places are not unapt to call for a wine-card, -and to moisten their roast lamb and peas (especially after an -exhilarating sea-bath) with a cup of Heidseck, or of Longworth's -sparkling Catawba, they may readily imagine the consternation that has -crept over certain portions of the visiting world. We (meaning we as -Editors) are of course without any preferences either for watering -places or--for that matter--liquoring places. Yet we are curious to -see how far the new system will favor the fullness and the gayety of -the old summer resorts. - -Persistent Newport visitors, who have grown old with their sherry and -their port, are arranging for the transportation of "small stores," as -a portion of their luggage; and are negotiating with the landlords -their rates of "corkage." Whether this side-tax on the matter will not -render host and guest obnoxious to the new-started laws, is a matter -we commend to the serious attention of the hopeful lawyers of Newport. - -What the reformatory legal enactments may do with the wine-growers of -Ohio, and with the distillers of Pennsylvania and Indiana, we are -curious to see. As for the latter, we can not say (speaking now in our -individual capacity) that we should greatly regret the downfall of -those huge distillery pig-yards, which spend their odors over the Ohio -river; but as for the Cincinnati wines and vineyards, we must confess -that we have a lurking fondness that way--first, because the grape -culture is Scriptural, beautiful, healthful; and next, because it is -clothing the hill-sides of our West with a purple and bountiful -product, that develops nobly the agricultural resources of the -country, and throws the gauntlet in the very face of Burgundy. Still -again, we have a fancy--perhaps a wrong one--that pure wines, well -made, and cheapened to the wants of the humblest laborer, will outgrow -and overshadow that feverish passion for stronger drink which vitiates -so sadly our whole working population: and yet once again, we have -charity for western vineyards, for a very love of their products; and -have felt ourselves, after a wee bit of the quiet hock which -Zimmermann presses out of the ripe Catawba--a better feeling toward -our fellows, and a richer relish for such labor of the office as now -hampers our pen. - - * * * * * - -Under story of pleasure-seeking for the summer, some Journalists -record the intent of a southern party to broach--in the August that -now lies thirty days into the sunshine--the passage of the Rocky -Mountains, skirting by the way the miniature valley of the -Missouri--wearing weapons of defense and offense--carrying parlors -upon wheels, and kitchens in their carts--shooting rabbits and Indians -as the seasons vary, and dining upon buffalo and corn bread _à -volanté_. - -We wish them much pleasure of the trip--meaning good roads, few -Indians, and musquito bars. - -Seriously, however, when shall we see the valley of the Missouri form -a pleasant tangent to summer travel, and the sportsman who now camps -it by Long Lake, or shoots coot by Moniment Point--oiling his rifle -for a range at the stalking varmint by St. Joseph's, and along the -thousand forked branches of the Missouri waters? - -At Minnessota, they say (the doubtful newspapers again,) people have -discovered a gem of a lake,--so still, that the bordering trees seem -growing root upward, and the islands are all _Siamesed_ where they -float; and so clear that you count your fish before you throw them the -bait, and make such selections among the eager patrons of your hook, -as you would do at the City market on the corner of Spring-street. - -When Professor Page's Galvanic Railroad will take us there in a day, -we will wash the ink from our fingers in the lake of Minnessota; and -if the fates favor us, will stew a trout in Longworth's Catawba; -meantime, we wait hopefully feeding upon Devoe's, moderately fatted -mutton, and great plenty of imaginative diet. - - * * * * * - -Among the rest, old Markham's "Summer Contentments" has furnished us -with rare meals, and inveigled us into trying with inapt hands the -_metier_ of the rod and angle. We flatter ourselves that we have won -upon the _character_ of the angler, however little we may win upon his -fish. - -"He must," says pleasant old Markham, "neither be amazed with storms, -nor frighted with thunder; and if he is not temperate, but has a -gnawing stomach, that will not endure much fasting, and must observe -hours, it troubleth the mind and body, and loseth that delight which -only maketh pastime pleasing. - -"He must be of a well-settled and constant belief, to enjoy the -benefit of his expectation; for than to despair, it were better never -to be put in practice: and he must ever think, when the waters are -pleasant, and any thing likely, that there the Creator of all good -things, hath stored up much of plenty; and though your satisfaction -be not as ready as your wishes, yet you must hope still, that with -perseverance you shall reap the fullness of your harvest with -contentment. Then he must be full of love both to his pleasure, and -his neighbor--to his pleasure, which will otherwise be irksome and -tedious--and to his neighbor, that he never give offense in any -particular, nor be guilty of any general destruction; then he must be -exceeding patient, and neither vex nor excruciate himself with any -losses or mischances, as in losing the prey when it is almost in hand, -or by breaking his tools by ignorance or negligence; but with pleased -sufferance amend errors, and think mischances instructions to better -carefulness." - -We commend all this to the trout fishers among the musquitos, and -black flies of Hamilton County--for even into that dim, and barbarian -region, our monthly budget finds its way. - - * * * * * - -Among other things of the hour, we must spare a note for those -pleasant statistics of author-and-bookdom, which the international -discussion of Copyright has called into print. - -Heretofore, the man of books has been reckoned as a liver, for the -most part, upon such manna as rained down from time to time, from a -very imaginative heaven; he has lived, by a certain charitable -courtesy of the world, (which is coy of ferreting out its injustices) -beyond the tongue of talk, and his pride and poverty have suffered an -amiable reprieve. - -The time, it seems, is now gone by; and we find Prescott and Irving -submitted to the same fiscal measurement, as are the brokers upon -'Change. We wish the whole author fraternity might come as bravely out -of it as the two we have named: and should it ever come to pass, that -the fraternity were altogether rich, we hope they will not neglect the -foundation of some quiet hospital for the poor fellows (like -ourselves) who record their progress, and chronicle their honors. - -In old times a fancy held men's minds, that the payment for poetry -came only from Heaven: and that so soon as the Divine fingers which -caught the minstrelsy of the angel world, touched upon gold, they -palsied, and lost their power. Under the present flattering condition -of the author world (of which, alas, we only read!) it may be well to -revive the caution: the poor may, at the least, console themselves -thereby; and as for the rich--they need no consolation. - -Time and time again, we believe, spicy authors have threatened to take -the publisher's business off his hands; and in lieu of half the -profits, to measure them all with themselves. But, unfortunately for -the credit of the calling, authors are, in the general way, blessed -with very moderate financial capacity; and from Scott to Lamartine, -they have in such venture, to the best of our observation, worked very -hard--for very little pay. - - * * * * * - -Speaking of Lamartine, reminds us of a little episode of French life, -which has latterly crept into the French papers, and which would have -made (as the publishers say) a "companion volume" to Lamartine's -Raphael--always provided it were as well written out. The episode is -dismissed in two or three lines of the journals, and is headed in very -attracting way--"Died of Love." - -Such a kind of death being mostly unheard of--especially in New -York--it will be necessary to justify the title by a somewhat fuller -_résumé_ of the story, than the journalist favors us with. - -Marie of Montauban was as pretty a girl as the traveler might see in -going through all of southern France; and a pretty girl of southern -France, is more than pretty in any other quarter of France. - -Her father had been a small _propriétaire_, and had married a -descendant of an old family, under circumstances of that vague and -wild romance which grew up a little after the old Revolution. Both the -parents, however, died early in life: she inherited from the mother -exceeding delicacy, and a refinement, which agreed very poorly with -the poverty to which her father's improvidence had left her an heir. - -Admired and beloved, and sometimes courted by those about her, she -resolutely determined to secure her own support. She commenced in a -romantic way--by quitting secretly her home, and throwing herself upon -a very broad and a very wicked world. Fortune guided her to the home -of a worthy baker; she here learned the smaller mysteries of his -craft, and made such show in the front shop of her new-found patron, -as bewitched the provincial _gailliards_, and made its tale upon the -heart of the baker's son. - -In short, the son wooed in earnest; the baker protested: and whether -it was the protest (which is sure to kindle higher flame) or the -honest heart of the wooer himself, Marie forgot the earnest longings, -which her mother's nature had planted in her, and became the runaway -wife of the runaway baker's son. - -All French runaways (except from Government) go to Paris: therefore it -was, that in a year's time, you might have seen the humble sign of the -baker's son upon a modest shop of the Boulevard Beaumarchais. Beauty -is always found out in Paris, and it is generally admired. Therefore -it was, that the baker's son prospered, and the Café de Paris heard -mention of the beautiful baker's wife of the Beaumarchais. - -But, with the sight of the Louvre, the Tuileries, and all the -elegancies of metropolitan life, the old longings of the motherly -nature came back to the humiliated Marie. She stole hours for reading -and for music, and quieted her riotous ambition with the ambition of -knowledge. - -Still, however, her admirers besieged her; but thanks to her birth, -besieged in vain. From month to month she attended her shop; and from -month to month beguiled her mission with reading of old stories, and -with the music of her guitar. - -Now, it happened that in this time, a certain Jacques Arago (well -known to fame) chanced upon a day to visit the baker's shop of the -Boulevard Beaumarchais; and it further happened, that as the customer -was a traveler and a savant, that he fell into talk with the beautiful -Marie, who even then held in her fingers some work of the visitor -himself. - -Talk ripened into conversation, and conversation into interest. The -heart of Marie--always dutiful at home--now went wandering under the -guide of her mind. She admired the distinguished traveler, and from -admiring, she came presently--in virtue of his kind offices and of his -instructions continued day after day--to love him. - -Therefore it was that Jacques Arago, when he came to depart upon new -voyages (and here we follow his own story, rather than probability), -did not whisper of his leave to the beautiful Marie, who still held -her place in the baker's shop upon the Boulevard Beaumarchais. - -But she found her liking too strong to resist; and when she heard of -his departure, she hurried away to Havre--only to see the sails of his -out-bound ship glimmering on the horizon. - -She bore the matter stoutly as she could--cherishing his letters each -one as so many parts of the mind that had enslaved her; and, finally, -years after, met him calmly, on his return. "I have lived," she said, -"to see you again." - -But in a little while, Arago, sitting one day in his bureau, receives -a letter from Marie of Beaumarchais. - -"You deceived me when you went away over the sea; I forgive you for -it! Will you forgive me now another deception? I was not well when you -saw me last; I am now in the Hospital Beaujon; I shall die before -tomorrow. But I die faithful to my religion--God--you! Adieu! - - MARIE." - -Jacques Arago himself writes so much of the story as has served to -make the back-bone for this; and we appeal to the ninety thousand -readers of our gossip if Jacques Arago needed any thing more than the -_finesse_ of Lamartine, and a touch of his poetic nature, to weave the -story of poor Marie into another Raphael? - - -AN OLD GENTLEMAN'S LETTER. - -"THE STORY OF THE BRIDE OF LANDECK." - -DEAR SIR--I now resume the very interesting tale I wished to tell you; -but from which, in my last, I was diverted in a manner requiring some -apology. - -You know, however, that this failing of being carried away to -collaterals, is frequent in old gentlemen and nurses; and you must -make excuses for my age and infirmity. Now, however, you shall have -the story of "The Bride of Landeck." A bride is always interesting, -and therefore I trust that my bride will not be less so than others. -There is something so touching in the confidence with which she -bestows the care of her whole fate and happiness on another, something -so strangely perilous, even in her very joy, such a misty darkness -over that new world into which she plunges, that even the coarsest and -most vulgar are moved by it. - -I recollect an almost amusing instance of this. The very words -employed by the speakers will show you that they were persons of -inferior condition; and yet they were uttered with a sigh, and with -every appearance of real feeling. - -I was one day walking along through the streets of a great city, where -it is the custom, in almost all instances, for marriages to take place -in church. My way lay by the vestry of a fashionable church, and I was -prevented for a minute or two from passing by a great throng of -carriages, and a little crowd gathered to see a bride and bridegroom -set out upon their wedding tour. There were two mechanics immediately -before me--carpenters apparently--and, being in haste, I tried to -force my way on. One of the men looked round, saying quietly, "There's -no use pushing, you can't get by;" and in a moment after, the bridal -party came forth. The bridegroom was a tall, fine-looking, grave young -man; and the bride a very beautiful, interesting creature, hardly -twenty. They both seemed somewhat annoyed by the crowd, and hurried -into their carriage and drove away. - -When the people dispersed, the two carpenters walked on before me, -commenting upon the occurrence. "Well," said the one, "she's as pretty -a creature as ever I saw; and he's a handsome man; but he looks a -little sternish, to my mind. I hope he'll treat her well." - -"Ah, poor thing," said the other, "she has tied a knot with her -tongue, that she can not untie with her teeth." - -It is not, however, only sentiment which is occasionally elicited at -weddings. I have known some of the most ludicrous scenes in the world -occur on these solemn occasions. One, especially, will never pass from -my mind, and I must try to give you an account of it, although the -task will be somewhat difficult. - -Some fifty years ago, in the good city of Edinburgh, many of the -conveniences, and even necessaries of household comfort were arranged -in a very primitive manner. It was about this time, or a little before -it, that a gentleman, whom I afterward knew well, Mr. J---- F----, -wooed and won a very beautiful girl of the best society in the city. -His doing so was, indeed, a marvel to all; for, though young, witty, -and well-looking, he was perhaps the most absent man upon the face of -the earth; and the wonder was that he could ever recollect himself -sufficiently to make love to one woman for two days consecutively. -However, so it was; and a vast number of mistakes and blunders having -been got over, the wedding day was appointed and came. The ceremony -was to be performed in the house of the bride's father; and a large -and fashionable company was assembled at the hour appointed. The -bridegroom was known to have been in the house some time; but he did -not appear; and minister, parents, bride, bridesmaids, and bridesmen, -all full dressed, the ladies in court lappets, and the gentlemen with -_chapeaux bras_ under their arms, began to look very grave. - -The bride's brother, however, knew his friend's infirmity, and was -also aware that he had an exceedingly bad habit of reading classical -authors in places the least fitted for such purposes. He stole out of -the room, then, hurried to the place where he expected his future -brother-in-law might be found; and a minute after, in spite of doors -and staircases, his voice was heard exclaiming, "Jimmy--Jimmy; you -forget you are going to be married, man. Every one is waiting for -you." - -"I will come directly--I will come directly," cried another voice--"I -quite forgot--go and keep them amused." - -The young gentleman returned, with a smile upon his face; but -announced that the bridegroom would be there in an instant; and the -whole party arranged themselves in a formidable semi-circle. This was -just complete, when the door opened, and the bridegroom appeared. All -eyes fixed upon him--all eyes turned toward his left arm, where his -_chapeau bras_ should have been; and a universal titter burst from all -lips. Poor F---- stood confounded, perceived the direction of their -looks, and turned his own eyes to his left arm also. Close pressed -beneath it, appeared, instead of a neat black _chapeau bras_, a thin, -flat, round piece of oak, with a small brass knob rising from the -centre of one side. In horror, consciousness, and confusion, he -suddenly lifted his arm. Down dropped the obnoxious implement, lighted -on its edge, rolled forward into the midst of the circle, whirled -round and round, as if paying its compliments to every body, and -settled itself with a flounder at the bride's feet. A roar, which -might have shook St. Andrews, burst from the whole party. - -The bride married him notwithstanding, and practiced through life the -same forbearance--the first of matrimonial virtues--which she showed -on the present occasion. - -Poor F----, notwithstanding the sobering effects of matrimony, -continued always the most absent man in the world; and one instance -occurred, some fifteen or sixteen years after his marriage, which his -wife used to tell with great glee. She was a very notable woman, and -good housekeeper. Originally a Presbyterian, she had conformed to the -views of her husband, and regularly frequented the Episcopal church. -One Sunday, just before the carriage came to the door to take her and -her husband to the morning service, she went down to the kitchen, as -was her custom, in mercantile parlance, to take stock, and give her -orders. She happened to be somewhat longer than usual: the carriage -was announced, and poor F----, probably knowing that if he gave -himself a moment to pause, he should forget himself, and his wife, and -the church, and all other holy and venerable things, went down after -her, with the usual, "My dear, the carriage is waiting; we shall be -very late." - -Mrs. F---- went through her orders with customary precision, took up -her prayer-book, entered the carriage with her husband, and rolled -away toward the church. - -"My dear, what an extraordinary smell of bacon there is in the -carriage," said Mr. F----. - -"I do not smell it, my dear," said Mrs. F----. - -"I do," said Mr. F----, expanding his nostrils emphatically. - -"I think I smell it too, now," said Mrs. F----, taking a sniff. - -"Well, I hope those untidy servants of ours do not smoke bacon in the -carriage," said Mr. F----. - -"Oh, dear, no," replied his wife, with a hearty laugh. "No fear of -that, my dear." - -Shortly after, the carriage stopped at the church door; and Mr. and -Mrs. F---- mounted the stairs to their pew, which was in the gallery, -and conspicuous to the whole congregation. The lady seated herself, -and laid her prayer-book on the velvet cushion before her. Mr. F---- -put his hand into his pocket, in search of his own prayer-book, and -pulled out a long parallelogram, which was not a prayer-book, but -which he laid on the cushion likewise. - -"I don't wonder there was a smell of bacon in the carriage, my dear," -whispered Mrs. F----; and, to his horror, he perceived lying before -him, in the eyes of a thousand persons, a very fine piece of -red-and-white streaky bacon, which he had taken up in the kitchen, -thinking it was his prayer-book. - -On only one subject could Mr. F---- concentrate his thoughts, and that -was the law, in the profession of which he obtained considerable -success, although occasionally, an awful blunder was committed; but, -strange to say, never in the strictly legal part of his doings. He -would forget his own name, and write that of some friend of whom he -was thinking instead. He would confound plaintiff with defendant, and -witnesses with counsel; but he never made a mistake in an abstract -legal argument. There, where no collateral, and, as he imagined, -immaterial circumstances were concerned--such as, who was the man to -be hanged, and who was not--the reasoning was clear, acute, and -connected; and for all little infirmities of mind, judges and jurors, -who generally knew him well, made due allowance. - -Other people had to make allowance also; and especially when, between -terms, he would go out to pay a morning visit to a friend, Mrs. F---- -never counted, with any certainty, upon his return for a month. He -would go into the house where his call was to be made, talk for a few -minutes, take up a book, and read till dinner time--dine--and lucky if -he did not fancy himself in his own house, and take the head of the -table. Toward night he might find out his delusion, and the next -morning proceed upon his way, borrowing a clean shirt, and leaving his -dirty one behind him. Thus it happened, that at the end of a -twelvemonth, his wardrobe comprised a vast collection of shirts, of -various sorts and patterns, with his own name on very few of them. - -The stories of poor Jimmy F----'s eccentricities in Edinburgh were -innumerable. On one occasion, seeing a lady, on his return home, -coming away from his own door, he handed her politely into her -carriage, expressing his regret that she had not found Mrs F---- at -home. - -"I am not surprised, my dear," said the lady, who was in reality his -own wife, "that you forget me, when you so often forget yourself." - -"God bless me," cried Jimmy, with the most innocent air in the world. -"I was quite sure I had seen you somewhere before; but could not tell -where it was." - -Dear old Edinburgh, what a city thou wert when I first visited thee, -now more than forty years ago! How full of strange nooks and corners, -and, above all, how full of that racy and original character which the -world in general is so rapidly losing! Warm hearted hospitality was -one of the great characteristics of Auld Reekie in those times, and it -must be admitted that social intercourse was sometimes a little too -jovial. This did not indeed prevent occasional instances of miserly -closeness, and well laughed at were they when they were discovered. -There was a lady of good station and ample means in the city, somewhat -celebrated for the not unusual combination of a niggard spirit, and a -tendency to ostentatious display. Large supper parties were then in -vogue; and I was invited to more than one of these entertainments at -the house of Lady C---- G----, where I remarked that, though the table -was well covered, the guests were not very strenuously pressed to -their food. She had two old servants, a butler and a foot-man, trained -to all her ways, and apparently participating in her economical -feelings. These men, with the familiarity then customary in Scotch -servants, did not scruple to give their mistress any little hints at -the supper table in furtherance of her saving propensities, and as the -old lady was somewhat deaf, these _asides_ were pretty much public -property. On one occasion, the butler was seen to bend over his -mistress's chair, saying, in a loud whisper, and good broad Scotch, -"Press the jeelies, my leddy--press the jeelies. They'll no keep." - -Lady C---- G---- did not exactly catch his words, and looked up -inquiringly in his face, and the man repeated, "Press the jeelies, my -leddy: they're getting mouldy." - -"Shave them, John--shave them," said Lady C---- G----, in a solemn -tone. - -"They've been shaved already, my leedy," roared John; and the company -of course exploded. - -But to return to my tale. The small village of Landeck, is situated in -the heart of the Tyrol, and in that peculiar district, called the -Vorarlberg. It is as lovely a spot as the eye of man can rest upon, -and the whole drive, in fact, from Innspruck is full of picturesque -beauty. But-- - -But I find this is the last page of the sheet, when I fondly fancied -that I had another whole page, which I think would be sufficient to -conclude the tale. I had probably better, therefore, reserve the story -of The Bride of Landeck for another letter, and only beg you to -believe me - - Yours faithfully, - - P. - - - - -Editor's Drawer. - - -It is not a very long time ago, that "bustles" formed a very essential -part of a fashionable lady's dress; nor has this singular branch of -the fine arts altogether fallen into decadence at the present day. -And, as apropos of this, we find in the "Drawer" a description of the -uses of this article in Africa, which we think will awaken a smile -upon the fair lips of our lady-readers. "The most remarkable article -of dress," says the African traveler, from whom our extract is quoted, -"that I have seen, is one which I have vaguely understood to -constitute a part of the equipment of my fair countrywomen; in a word, -the veritable '_Bustle!_' Among the belles here, there is a reason for -the excrescence which does not exist elsewhere; for the little -children ride astride the maternal bustle, which thus becomes as -useful as it is an ornamental protuberance. Fashion, however, has -evidently more to do with the matter than convenience; for old -wrinkled grandmothers wear these beautiful anomalies, and little girls -of eight years old display protuberances that might excite the envy of -a Broadway belle. Indeed, Fashion may be said to have its perfect -triumph and utmost refinement in this article; it being a positive -fact that some of the girls hereabout wear _merely_ the bustle, -without so much as the shadow of a garment! Its native name is -"_Tarb-Koshe_."" - - * * * * * - -Here is a formula for all who can couple "love" and "dove," by which -they may rush into print as "poets" of the common "water." The -skeleton may be called any thing--"Nature," "Poesy," "Woman," or what -not: - - Stream.....mountain.....straying, - Breeze.....gentle.....playing; - Bowers.....beauty.....bloom, - Rose.....jessamine.....perfume. - Twilight.....moon.....mellow ray, - Tint.....glories.....parting day. - Poet.....stars.....truth.....delight, - Joy.....sunshine.....silence.....night; - Voice.....frown.....affection.....love, - Lion.....anger.....taméd dove. - Lovely.....innocent.....beguile, - Terror.....frown.....conquer.....smile; - Loved one.....horror.....haste.....delay, - Past.....thorns.....meet.....gay. - Sweetness.....life.....weary.....prose, - Love.....hate.....bramble.....rose; - Absence.....presence.....glory.....bright, - Life.....halo.....beauty.....light. - - * * * * * - -Not long since a young English merchant took his youthful wife with -him to Hong-Kong, China, where the couple were visited by a wealthy -Mandarin. The latter regarded the lady very attentively, and seemed to -dwell with delight upon her movements. When she at length left the -apartment, he said to the husband, in broken English (worse than -broken China): - -"What you give for that wifey-wife yours?" - -"Oh," replied the husband, laughing at the singular error of his -visitor, "two thousand dollars." - -This the merchant thought would appear to the Chinese rather a high -figure; but he was mistaken. - -"Well," said the Mandarin, taking out his book with an air of -business, "s'pose you give her to me; give you _five_ thousand -dollar!" - -It is difficult to say whether the young merchant was more amazed than -amused; but the very grave and solemn air of the Chinaman convinced -him that he was in sober earnest; and he was compelled, therefore, to -refuse the offer with as much placidity as he could assume. The -Mandarin, however, continued to press his bargain: - -"I give you seven thousand dollar," said he: "You _take_ 'em?" - -The merchant, who had no previous notion of the value of the commodity -which he had taken out with him, was compelled, at length, to inform -his visitor that Englishmen were not in the habit of selling their -wives after they once came in their possession--an assertion which the -Chinaman was very slow to believe. The merchant afterward had a hearty -laugh with his young and pretty wife, and told her that he had just -discovered her full value, as he had that moment been offered seven -thousand dollars for her; a very high figure, "as wives were going" in -China at that time! - -Nothing astonishes a Chinaman so much, who may chance to visit our -merchants at Hong-Kong, as the deference which is paid by our -countrymen to their ladies, and the position which the latter are -permitted to hold in society. The very servants express their disgust -at seeing American or English ladies permitted to sit at table with -their lords, and wonder why men can so far forget their dignity! - - * * * * * - -We have seen the thought contained in the following Persian fable, -before, in the shape of a scrap of "Proverbial Philosophy," by an -eastern sage; but the sentiment is so admirably versified in the -lines, that we can not resist presenting them to the reader: - - "A little particle of rain, - That from a passing cloud descended, - Was heard thus idly to complain: - 'My brief existence now is ended. - Outcast alike of earth and sky, - Useless to live--unknown to die.' - - "It chanced to fall into the sea, - And then an open shell received it, - And, after-years, how rich was he - Who from its prison-house relieved it! - That drop of rain had formed a gem, - To deck a monarch's diadem." - - * * * * * - -There is a certain London cockneyism that begins to obtain among -_some_ persons even here--and that is, the substitution of the word -"gent," for gentleman. It is a gross vulgarism. In England, however, -the terms are more distinctive, it seems. A waiting-maid at a -provincial inn, on being asked how many "gents" there were in the -house, replied, "Three gents and four gentlemen." "Why do you make a -distinction, Betty?" said her interrogator. "Oh, why, the gents are -only _half_ gentlemen, people from the country, who come on horseback; -the others have their carriages, and are _real_ gentlemen!" - - * * * * * - -Most readers will remember the ill-favored fraternity mentioned by -Addison, known as "_The Ugly Club_," into which no person was admitted -without a visible queerity in his aspect, or peculiar cast of -countenance. The club-room was decorated with the heads of eminent -ogres; in short, every thing was in keeping with the deformed objects -of the association. They have a practice at the West of giving to the -ugliest man in all the "diggins" round about, a jack-knife, which he -carries until he meets with a man uglier than himself, when the new -customer "takes the knife," with all its honors. A certain notorious -"beauty" had carried the knife for a long time, with no prospect of -ever being called upon to "stand and deliver" it. He had an under-lip, -which hung down like a motherless colt's, bending into a sort of pouch -for a permanent chew of tobacco his eyes had a diabolical squint -_each_ way; his nose was like a ripe warty tomato; his complexion like -that of an old saddle-flap; his person and limbs a miracle of -ungainliness, and his gait a cross between the slouch of an elephant -and the scrambling movement of a kangaroo. Yet this man was compelled -to give up the knife. It happened in this wise: _He was kicked in the -face by a horse!_ His "mug," as the English cockney would call it, was -smashed into an almost shapeless mass. But so _very_ ugly was he -_before_ the accident, that, when his face got well, it was found to -be so much improved that he was obliged to surrender up the knife to a -successful competitor! He must have been a handsome man, whom a kick -in the face by a horse would "improve!" - - * * * * * - -Some years ago the Queen of England lost a favorite female dog. It was -last seen, before its death, poking its nose into a dish of -sweet-breads on the pantry-dresser. Foul play was suspected; the -scullery-maid was examined; the royal dog-doctor was summoned; a -"crowner's quest" was held upon the body; and the surgeon, after the -evidence was "all in," assuming the office of coroner, proceeded to -"sum up" as follows: - -"This affair was involved, apparently, in a good deal of doubt until -this inquisition was held. The deceased might have been poisoned, or -might not; and here the difficulty comes in, to determine whether he -was or wasn't. On a post-mortem examination, there was a good deal of -vascular inflammation about the coats of the nose; and I have no doubt -the affair of the sweet-bread, which was possibly very highly -peppered, had something to do with these appearances. The pulse had, -of course, stopped; but, as far as I could judge from appearances, I -should say it had been pretty regular. The ears were perfectly -healthy, and the tail appeared to have been recently wagged; showing -that there could have been nothing very wrong in that quarter. The -conclusion at which, after careful consideration, I have arrived, is, -that the royal favorite came to his death from old age, or rather from -the lapse of time; and a _deodand_ is therefore imposed on the -kitchen-clock, which was rather fast on the day of the dog's death, -and very possibly might have accelerated his demise!" - - * * * * * - -It is no small thing to be called on suddenly to address a public -meeting, of any sort, and to find all your wits gone a-wool-gathering, -when you most require their services. "Such being the case," and -"standing admitted," as it will be, by numerous readers, we commend -the following speech of a compulsory orator at the opening of a free -hospital: - -"GENTLEMEN--Ahem!--I--I--I rise to say--that is, I wish to propose a -toast--wish to propose a toast. Gentlemen, I think that you'll all -say--ahem--I think, at least, that this toast is, as you'll say, the -toast of the evening--toast of the evening. Gentlemen, I belong to a -good many of these things--and I say, gentlemen, that this hospital -requires no patronage--at least, you don't want any recommendation. -You've only got to be ill--got to be ill. Another thing--they are all -locked up--I mean they are shut up separate--that is, they've all got -separate beds--separate beds. Now, gentlemen, I find by the report -(_turning over the leaves in a fidgety manner_), I find, gentlemen, -that from the year seventeen--no, eighteen--no, ah, yes, I'm -right--eighteen hundred and fifty--No! it's a 3, thirty-six--eighteen -hundred and thirty-six, no less than one hundred and ninety-three -millions--no! ah! (_to a committee-man at his side_,) Eh?--what?--oh, -yes--thank you!--thank you, yes--one hundred and ninety-three -thousand--two millions--no (_looking through his eye-glass_), two -hundred and thirty-one--one hundred and ninety-three thousand, two -hundred and thirty-one! Gentlemen, I beg to propose-- - - "_Success to this Institution!_" - -Intelligible as Egyptian hieroglyphics, and "clear as mud" to the -"most superficial observer!" - - * * * * * - -That was a touch of delicate sarcasm which is recorded of Charles -Lamb's brother, "James Elia." He was out at Eton one day, with his -brother and some other friends; and upon seeing some of the Eton boys, -students of the college, at play upon the green, he gave vent to his -forebodings, with a sigh and solemn shake of the head: "Ah!" said he, -"what a pity to think that these fine ingenuous lads in a few years -will all be changed into frivolous members of parliament!" - - * * * * * - -Some spendthrifts belonging to "_The Blues_" having been obliged to -submit their "very superior long-tailed troop horses" to the -arbitrament of a London auctioneer's hammer, a wag "improves the -occasion" by inditing the following touching parody: - - "Upon the ground he stood, - To take a last fond look - At the troopers, as he entered them - In the horse-buyer's book. - He listened to the neigh, - So familiar to his ear; - But the soldier thought of bills to pay, - And wiped away a tear. - - "Beside the stable-door, - A mare fell on her knees; - She cocked aloft her crow-black tail, - That fluttered in the breeze, - She seemed to breathe a prayer-- - A prayer he could not hear-- - For the soldier felt his pockets bare, - And wiped away a tear. - - "The soldier blew his nose-- - Oh! do not deem him weak! - To meet his creditors, he knows - He's not sufficient 'cheek.' - Go read the writ-book through, - And 'mid the names, I fear, - You're sure to find the very Blue - Who wiped away the tear!" - - * * * * * - -We believe it is Dryden who says, "It needs all we know to make things -_plain_." We wonder what he would have thought of this highly -intelligible account of blowing up a ship by a submarine battery, as -Monsieur Maillefert blew up the rocks in Hellgate: - -"There is no doubt that all submarine salts, acting in coalition with -a pure phosphate, and coagulating chemically with the sublimate of -marine potash, _will_ create combustion in nitrous bodies. It is a -remarkable fact in physics, that sulphurous acids, held in solution by -glutinous compounds, will create igneous action in aquiferous bodies; -and hence it is, therefore, that the pure carbonates of any given -quantity of bituminous or ligneous solids will of themselves create -the explosions in question." - -We have heard men listen to such lucid, _pellucid_ "expositions" as -this, with staring eyes: - - "And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, - That one small head could carry all he knew." - - * * * * * - -He was a keen observer and a rare discriminator of children, who drew -this little picture, in a work upon "Childhood and its Reminiscences:" - -"See those two little girls! You hardly know which is the elder, so -closely do they follow each other. They were born to the same -routine, and will be bred in it for years, perhaps, side by side, in -unequal fellowship; one pulling back, the other dragging forward. -Watch them for a few moments as they play together, each dragging her -doll about in a little cart. Their names are Cecilia and Constance, -and they manage their dolls always as differently as they will their -children. You ask Cecilia where she is going to drive her doll to, and -she will tell you, 'Through the dining-room into the hall, and then -back into the dining-room,' which is all literally true. You ask -Constance, and with a grave, important air, and a loud whisper, for -Doll is not to hear on any account, she answers, 'I am going to take -her to London, and then to Brighton, to see her little cousin: the -hall is Brighton, you know,' she adds, with a condescending look. -Cecilia laments over a dirty frock, with a slit at the knee, and -thinks that Mary, the maid, will never give her the new one she -promised. Constance's doll is somewhat in the costume of the king of -the Sandwich Islands; top-boots and a cocked-hat, having only a skein -of worsted tied round her head, and a strip of colored calico or her -shoulders; but she is perfectly satisfied that it is a wreath of -flowers and a fine scarf; bids you smell of the "rose-oil" in her -hair, and then whips herself, to jump over the mat. - -"In other matters, the case is reversed. When fear is concerned, -Cecilia's imagination becomes active, and Constance's remains -perfectly passive. A bluff old gentleman passes through that same -hall. The children stop their carts and stare at him, upon which he -threatens to put them in his pocket. Poor Cecilia runs away, in the -greatest alarm; but Constance coolly says: "You _can't_ put us in your -pocket; it isn't half big enough!" - -It strikes us that there is an important lesson to parents in this -last passage. Because _one_ child has no fear to go to bed in the -dark, how many poor trembling children, differently constituted, have -passed the night in an agony of fear! - - * * * * * - -There are few more striking things in verse, in the English Language, -than "_The Execution of Montrose_." The author has not, to our -knowledge, been named, and the lines appeared for the first time many -years ago. The illustrious head of the great house of GRAHAME in -Scotland was condemned to be hung, drawn, and quartered; his head to -be affixed on an iron pin and set on the pinnacle of the Tolbooth in -Edinburgh; one hand to be set on the port of Perth, the other on the -port of Stirling; one leg and foot on the port of Aberdeen, the other -on the port of Glasgow. In the hour of his defeat and of his death he -showed the greatness of his soul, by exhibiting the most noble -magnanimity and Christian heroism. The few verses which follow will -enable the reader to judge of the spirit which pervades the poem: - - "'Twas I that led the Highland host - Through wild Lochaber's snows, - What time the plaided clans came down - To battle with Montrose: - I've told thee how the Southrons fell - Beneath the broad claymore, - And how we smote the CAMPBELL clan - By Inverlochy's shore: - I've told thee how we swept Dundee, - And tamed the LINDSAY'S pride! - But never have I told thee yet, - How the Great Marquis died! - - "A traitor sold him to his foes; - Oh, deed of deathless shame! - I charge thee, boy, if e'er thou meet - With one of ASSYNT'S name-- - Be it upon the mountain side, - Or yet within the glen, - Stand he in martial gear alone, - Or backed by armed men-- - Face him, as thou would'st face the man - Who wronged thy sire's renown; - Remember of what blood thou art, - And strike the caitiff down!" - -The poet goes on to describe his riding to the place of execution in a -cart, with hands tied behind him, and amidst the jeers and taunts of -his enemies; but his noble bearing subdued the hearts of many even of -his bitter foes. Arrived at the place of execution, the "Great -Marquis" looks up to the scaffold, and exclaims: - - "Now by my faith as belted knight, - And by the name I bear, - And by the red St. Andrew's cross - That waves above us there-- - Ay, by a greater, mightier oath, - And oh! that such should be!-- - By that dark stream of royal blood - That lies 'twixt you and me-- - I have not sought on battle-field - A wreath of such renown, - Nor dared I hope, on my dying day, - To win a martyr's crown! - - "There is a chamber far away, - Where sleep the good and brave, - But a better place ye have named for me - Than by my father's grave. - For truth and right 'gainst treason's might, - This hand has always striven, - And ye raise it up for a witness still - In the eye of earth and heaven. - Then raise my head on yonder tower, - Give every town a limb, - And GOD who made, shall gather them; - I go from you to HIM!" - -We know of few sublimer deaths than this, in which the poet has taken -no liberties with historical facts. - - * * * * * - -A cunning old fox is Rothschild, the greatest banker in the world. He -said, on one occasion, to Sir Thomas Buxton, in England, "My success -has always turned upon one maxim. I said, '_I_ can do what _another_ -man can;' and so I am a match for all the rest of 'em. Another -advantage I had: I was always an off-hand man. I made a bargain at -once. When I was settled in London, the East India Company had eight -hundred thousand pounds in gold to sell. I went to the sale, and -bought the whole of it. I knew the Duke of Wellington _must_ have it. -I had bought a great many of his bills at a discount. The Government -sent for me, and _said_ they must have it. When they had got it, they -didn't know how to get it to Portugal, where they wanted it. I -undertook all that, and I sent it through France; and that was the -best business I ever did in my life. - -"It requires a great deal of boldness and a great deal of caution to -make a great fortune, and when you have got it, it requires ten times -as much wit to keep it. If I were to listen to one half the projects -proposed to me, I should ruin myself very soon. - -"One of my neighbors is a very ill-tempered man. He tries to vex me, -and has built a great place for swine close to my walk. So when I go -out, I hear first, 'Grunt, grunt,' then 'Squeak, squeak.' But this -does me no harm. I am always in good-humor. Sometimes, to amuse -myself, I give a beggar a guinea. He thinks it is a mistake, and for -fear I should find it out, he runs away as hard as he can. I advise -you to give a beggar a guinea sometimes--it is very amusing." - - * * * * * - -Travelers by railroad, who stop at the "eating stations," and are -hurried away by the supernatural shriek of the locomotive before they -have begun their repast, will appreciate and laugh at the following: - -"We have sometimes seen in a pastry-cook's window, the announcement of -'Soups hot till eleven at night,' and we have thought how very hot the -said soups must be at ten o'clock in the morning; but we defy any soup -to be so red-hot, so scorchingly and so intensely scarifying to the -roof of the mouth, as the soup you are allowed just three minutes to -swallow at the railway stations. In the course of our perigrinations, -a day or two ago, we had occasion to stop at a distant station. A -smiling gentleman, with an enormous ladle, said insinuatingly: - -"'Soup, sir?' - -"'Thank you--yes.' - -"Then the gigantic ladle was plunged into a caldron, which hissed with -hot fury at the intrusion of the ladle. - -"We were put in possession of a plateful of a colored liquid, that -actually took the skin off our face by mere steam. Having paid for the -soup, we were just about to put a spoonful to our lips when a bell was -rung, and the gentleman who had suggested the soup, ladled out the -soup, and got the money for the soup, blandly remarked: - -"'Sir, the train is just off!' - -"We made a desperate thrust of a spoonful into our mouth, but the skin -peeled off our lips, tongue, and palate, like the 'jacket' from a hot -potato." - -Probably the same soup was served out to the passengers by the next -train. Meanwhile the "soup-vendor smiled pleasantly, and evidently -enjoyed the fun!" - - * * * * * - -One of the best of the minor things of Thackeray's--thrown off, -doubtless before his temporarily-suspended cigar had gone out--is the -following. It is a satire upon the circumstance of some fifty deer -being penned into the narrow wood of some English nobleman, for Prince -ALBERT to "_hunt_" in those confined limits. The lines are by "Jeems, -cousin-german on the Scotch side," to "Chawls Yellowplush, Igsquire": - - "SONNICK. - - "SEJESTED BY PRINCE HALBERT GRATIOUSLY KILLING - THE STAGS AT JACKS COBUG GOTHY. - - "Some forty Ed of sleak and hantlered dear, - In Cobug (where such hanimels abound) - Was shot, as by the newspaper I 'ear, - By Halbert, Usband of the British crownd. - Britannia's Queen let fall the pretty tear, - Seeing them butchered in their sylvan prisns; - Igspecially when the keepers standing round, - Came up and cut their pretty innocent whizns. - Suppose, instead of this pore Germing sport, - This Saxon wenison wich he shoots and bags, - Our Prins should take a turn in Capel Court, - And make a massyker of Henglish stags. - Poor stags of Hengland! were the Untsman at you, - What havoc he would make, and what a tremenjus battu. - JEEMS." - - * * * * * - -What is pleasure? It is an extremely difficult thing to say what -"pleasure" means. Pleasure bears a different scale to every person. -Pleasure to a country girl may mean a village ball, and "so many -partners that she danced till she could scarcely stand." Pleasure to a -school-boy means tying a string to his school-fellow's toe when he is -asleep, and pulling it till he wakens him. Pleasure to a "man of -inquiring mind" means, "a toad inside of a stone," or a beetle running -around with his head off. Pleasure to a hard-laboring man means doing -nothing; pleasure to a fashionable lady means, "having something to -do to drive away the time." Pleasure to an antiquary means, an -"illegible inscription." Pleasure to a connoisseur means, a "dark, -invisible, very fine picture." Pleasure to the social, the "human face -divine." Pleasure to the morose, "Thank Heaven, I shan't see a soul -for the next six months!" - - * * * * * - -"Why don't you wash and dress yourself when you come into a court of -justice?" asked a pompous London judge of a chimney-sweep, who was -being examined as a witness. "Dress myself, my lord," said the sweep: -"I _am_ dressed as much as your lordship: you are in your -_working_-clothes, and so am I!" - - * * * * * - -A good while ago that inimitable wag, PUNCH had some very amusing -"_Legal Maxims_," with comments upon them; a few of which found their -way into the "Drawer," and a portion of which we subjoin: - -"_A personal action dies with the person._"--This maxim is clear -enough; and means that an action brought against a man, when he dies -in the middle of it, can not be continued. Thus, though the law -sometimes, and very often, pursues a man to the grave, his rest there -is not likely to be disturbed by the lawyers. If a soldier dies in -action, the action does not necessarily cease, but is often continued -with considerable vigor afterward. - -"_Things of a higher nature determine things of a lower -nature._"--Thus a written agreement determines one in words; although -if the words are of a very high nature, they put an end to all kinds -of agreement between the parties. - -"_The greater contains the less._"--Thus, if a man tenders more money -than he ought to pay, he tenders what he owes: for the greater -contains the less; but a quart wine-bottle, which is greater than a -pint and a half, does not always contain a pint and a half; so that, -in this instance, the less is not contained in the greater. - -"_Deceit and fraud shall be remedied on all occasions._"--It may be -very true, that deceit and fraud _ought_ to be remedied, but whether -they _are_, is quite another question. It is much to be feared, that -in law, as well as in other matters, _ought_ sometimes stands for -nothing. - -"_The law compels no one to impossibilities._"--This is extremely -considerate on the part of the law; but if it does not compel a man to -impossibilities, it sometimes drives him to attempt them. The law, -however, occasionally acts upon the principle of two negatives making -an affirmative; thus treating two impossibilities as if they amounted -to a possibility. As, when a man can not pay a debt, law-expenses are -added, which he can not pay either; but the latter being added to the -former, it is presumed, perhaps, that the two negatives, or -impossibilities may constitute one affirmative or possibility, and the -debtor is accordingly thrown into prison, if he fails to accomplish -it. - - * * * * * - -Some country readers of the "Drawer," unacquainted with the dance -called the "_Mazurka_," may like to know how to accomplish that -elaborate and fashionable species of saltation. Here follows a -practical explanation of the figures: - - Get a pair of dress-boats, high heels are the best, - And a partner; then stand with six more in a ring; - Skip thrice to the right, take two stamps and a rest, - Hop thrice to the left, give a kick and a fling; - Be careful in stamping some neighbor don't rue it, - Though people with corns had better not do it. - - Your partner you next circumnavigate; that - Is, dance all the way round her, unless she's too fat; - Make a very long stride, then two hops for _poussette_; - Lastly, back to your place, if you can, you must get. - A general mêlée here always ensues, - Begun by the loss of a few ladies' shoes; - A faint and a scream--"Oh, dear, I shall fall!" - "How stupid you are!"--"We are all wrong!" and that's all. - -Truly to appreciate such a dancing scene as this, one should see it -through a closed window, at a fashionable watering-place, without -being able to hear a note of the music, the "moving cause" of all the -frisking. - - -CONTRIBUTIONS TO OUR DRAWER. - -MISS TREPHINA and MISS TREPHOSA, two ancient ladies of virgin fame, -formerly kept a boarding-house in the immediate neighborhood of the -Crosby-street Medical College. They _took in_ students, did their -washing, and to the best of their abilities mended their shirts and -their morals. Miss Trephina, in spite of the numerous landmarks which -time had set up upon her person, was still of the sentimental order. -She always dressed "_de rigueur_" in cerulean blue, and wore false -ringlets, and teeth (_miserabile dictu!_) of exceedingly doubtful -_extraction_. Miss Trephosa, her sister, was on the contrary an -uncommonly "strong-minded" woman. Her appearance would have been -positively majestic, had it not been for an unfortunate squint, which -went far to upset the dignified expression of her countenance. She -wore a fillet upon her brows "_à la Grecque_," and people _did_ say -that her temper was as cross as her eyes. Bob Turner was a -whole-souled Kentuckian, for whom his professorial guardian obtained -lodgings in the establishment presided over by these two fascinating -damsels. Somehow or other, Bob and his hostesses did not keep upon the -best of terms very long. Bob had no notion of having his minutest -actions submitted to a surveillance as rigid as (in his opinion) it -was impertinent. One morning a fellow-student passing by at an early -hour, saw the Kentuckian, who was standing upon the steps of the -dragons' castle, from which he had just emerged, take from his pocket -a slip of paper, and proceed to affix the same, with the aid of -wafers, to the street door. The student skulked about the premises -until Bob was out of sight, and he could read without observation the -inscription placarded upon the panel. It was as follows--we do not -vouch for its originality, although we know nothing to the contrary: - - "To let or to lease, for the term of her life, - A scolding old maid, in the way of a wife; - She's old and she's ugly--ill-natured and thin; - For further particulars, inquire within!" - -An hour afterward the paper had disappeared from the door. Whether Bob -was ever detected or not we can not tell, but he changed his lodgings -the next term. - - * * * * * - -The Spaniards have a talent for self-glorification which throws that -of all other nations, even our own, into the shade. Some allowance -should be made, perhaps, for conventional hyperbolism of style, but -vanity has as much to do with it as rhetoric. A traveled friend -saw performed at Barcelona a play called "Españoles sobre -todos"--"Spaniards before all"--in which the hero, a Spanish knight, -and a perfect paladin in prowess, overthrows more English and French -knights with his single arm than would constitute the entire regular -army of this country. All these absurdities were received by the -audience with a grave enthusiasm marvelous enough to witness. The play -had a great run in all the cities of Spain, until it reached Madrid, -where its first representation scandalized the French embassador to -such a degree, that, like a true Gaul as he was, he made it a national -question, interfered diplomatically, and the Government suppressed the -performance. - -There is a light-house at Cadiz--a very good light-house--but in no -respect an extraordinary production of art. There is an inscription -carved upon it, well peppered with notes of exclamation, and which -translated reads as follows: - -"This light-house was erected upon Spanish soil, of Spanish stone, by -Spanish hands." - - * * * * * - -An old farmer from one of the rural districts--we may be allowed to -say, from one of the very rural districts--recently came to town to -see the sights, leaving his better-half at home, with the cattle and -the poultry. Among various little keepsakes which he brought back to -his wife, on his return to his Penates, was his own daguerreotype. -"Oh! these men, these men! what creturs they are!" exclaimed the old -lady, on receiving it; "just to think that he should fetch a picture -of himself all the way from York, and be so selfish as not to fetch -one of me at the same time!" - - * * * * * - -The following good story is told of George Hogarth, the author of -musical history, biography, and criticism, and of "Memoirs of the -Musical Drama." It seems that Mr. Hogarth is an intimate friend of -Charles Dickens. Upon one occasion, Mr. Dickens had a party at his -house, at which were present, among other notabilities, Miss ----, the -famous singer, and her mother, a most worthy lady, but not one of the -"illuminated." Mr. Hogarth's engagement as musical critic for some of -the leading London Journals kept him busy until quite late in the -evening; and to Mrs. ----'s reiterated inquiries as to when Mr. -Hogarth might be expected, Mr. Dickens replied that he could not -venture to hope that he would come in before eleven o'clock. At about -that hour the old gentleman, who is represented as being one of the -mildest and most modest of men, entered the rooms, and the excited -Mrs. ---- solicited an immediate introduction. When the consecrated -words had been spoken by the amused host, fancy the effect of Mrs. -----'s bursting out with the hearty exclamation, "Oh, Mr. Hogarth, how -shall I express to you the honor which I feel on making the -acquaintance of the author of the 'Rake's Progress!'" - -We wish it had been our privilege to see Dickens' face at that moment. - - * * * * * - -DR. DIONYSIUS LARDNER married an Irish lady, of the city of Dublin, we -believe, whose name was Cicily. The Doctor is represented not to have -treated her with all conceivable marital tenderness. Among the -University wags, he went by the name of "Dionysius, the _Tyrant of -Cicily_" (_Sicily._) - - * * * * * - -The late Pope of Rome, Gregory XVI., was once placed in an extremely -awkward dilemma, in consequence of his co-existing authority as -temporal and spiritual prince. A child of Jewish parentage was stolen -from its home in early infancy. Every possible effort was made to -discover the place of its concealment, but for many years without any -success. At length, after a long lapse of time, it was accidentally -ascertained that the boy, who had now almost grown a man, was residing -in a Christian family, in a section of the town far removed from the -"Ghetto," or Jews' quarter. The delighted parents eagerly sought to -take their child home at once, but his Christian guardians refused to -give him up; and the Pope was applied to by both parties, to decide -upon the rival claims. On the one hand it was urged, that, as the head -of the State, his Holiness could never think of countenancing the -kidnapping of a child, and the detaining him from his natural friends. -On the other hand it was contended, that, as head of the Church, it -was impossible for him to give back to infidelity one who had been -brought up a true believer. The case was a most difficult one to pass -upon, and what might have been the result it would be hard to tell, -had not the voice of habit been stronger than the voice of blood, and -the subject of the dispute expressed an earnest desire to cling to the -Church rather than be handed over to the Synagogue. - - * * * * * - -The famous humorist, Horne Tooke, once stood for Parliament in the -Liberal interest. His election was contested by a person who had made -a large fortune as a public contractor. This gentleman, in his speech -from the hustings, exhorted the constituency not to elect a man who -had no stake in the country. Mr. Tooke, in reply, said that he must -confess, with all humility, that there was, at least, one stake in the -country which he did not possess, and that was a _stake taken from the -public fence_. - -Upon another occasion, the blank form for the income-tax return was -sent in to Mr. Tooke to be filled up. He inserted the word "Nil," -signed it, and returned it to the board of county magistrates. Shortly -afterward he was called before this honorable body of gentlemen to -make an explanation. "What do you mean by 'Nil,' sir?" asked the most -ponderous of the gentlemen upon the bench. "I mean literally 'Nil,'" -answered the wag. - -"We perfectly understand the meaning of the Latin word -_Nil_--nothing," rejoined the magistrate, with an air of -self-congratulation upon his learning. "But do you mean to say, sir, -that you live without any income at all--that you live upon nothing?" - -"Upon nothing but my brains, gentlemen," was Tooke's answer. - -"Upon nothing but his brains!" exclaimed the presiding dignitary to -his associates. "It seems to me that this is a novel source of -income." - -"Ah, gentlemen," retorted the humorist, "it is not every man that _has -brains to mortgage_." - - * * * * * - -In nothing is the irregularity of our orthography shown more than in -the pronunciation of certain proper names. The English noble names of -Beauchamp, Beauvoir, and Cholmondeley are pronounced respectively -Beechum, Beaver, and Chumley. - -One of the "Anglo-Saxun" reformers, meeting Lord Cholmondeley one day -coming out of his own house, and not being acquainted with his -Lordship's person, asked him if Lord Chol-mon-de-ley (pronouncing each -syllable distinctly), was at home? "No," replied the Peer, without -hesitation, "nor any of his pe-o-ple." - - * * * * * - -Before commons were abolished at Yale College, it used to be customary -for the steward to provide turkeys for the Thanksgiving dinner. As -visits of poultry to the "Hall" table were "few and far between," this -feast was looked forward to with anxious interest by all the students. -The birds, divested of their feathers, were ordinarily deposited -over-night in some place of safety--not unfrequently in the -Treasurer's office. - -Upon one occasion a Vandal-like irruption, by some unknown parties, -was made in the dead of night upon the place of deposit. By the next -morning the birds had all flown--been spirited away, or carried -off--we give the reader his choice. A single venerable specimen of -antiquity, the stateliest of the flock, was found tied by the legs to -the knocker of the steward's door. And, as if to add insult to injury -(or injury to insult, as you please), a paper was pinned upon his -breast with the significant motto written upon it: _E pluribus -unum_--"One out of many." - - * * * * * - -At one corner of the Palazzo Braschi, the last monument of Papal -nepotism, near the Piazza Navona, in Rome, stands the famous mutilated -torso known as the Statue of Pasquin. It is the remains of a work of -art of considerable merit, found at this spot in the sixteenth -century, and supposed to represent Ajax supporting Menelaus. It -derives its modern name, as Murray tells us, from the tailor Pasquin, -who kept a shop opposite, which was the rendezvous of all the gossips -in the city, and from which their satirical witticisms on the manners -and follies of the day obtained a ready circulation. The fame of -Pasquin is perpetuated in the term _pasquinade_, and has thus become -European; but Rome is the only place in which he flourishes. The -statue of Marforio, which stood near the arch of Septimus Severus, in -the Forum, was made the vehicle for replying to the attacks of -Pasquin; and for many years they kept up an incessant fire of wit and -repartee. When Marforio was removed to the Museum of the Capitol, the -Pope wished to remove Pasquin also; but the Duke di Braschi, to whom -he belongs, would not permit it. Adrian VI. attempted to arrest his -career by ordering the statue to be burnt and thrown into the Tiber, -but one of the Pope's friends, Ludovico Sussano, saved him, by -suggesting that his ashes would turn into frogs, and croak more -terribly than before. It is said that his owner is compelled to pay a -fine whenever he is found guilty of exhibiting any scandalous -placards. The modern Romans seem to regard Pasquin as part of their -social system; in the absence of a free press, he has become in some -measure the organ of public opinion, and there is scarcely an event -upon which he does not pronounce judgment. Some of his sayings are -extremely broad for the atmosphere of Rome, but many of them are very -witty, and fully maintain the character of his fellow-citizens for -satirical epigrams and repartee. When Mezzofante, the great linguist, -was made a Cardinal, Pasquin declared that it was a very proper -appointment, for there could be no doubt that the "Tower of Babel," -"_Il torre di Babel_," required an interpreter. At the time of the -first French occupation of Italy, Pasquin gave out the following -satirical dialogue: - - "I Francesi son tutti ladri, - "Non tutti--ma Buonaparte." - "The French are all robbers. - "Not all, but a _good part_;" or, - "Not all--but Buonaparte." - -Another remarkable saying is recorded in connection with the -celebrated Bull of Urban VIII., excommunicating all persons who took -snuff in the Cathedral of Seville. On the publication of this decree, -Pasquin appropriately quoted the beautiful passage in Job--"Wilt thou -break a leaf driven to and fro? and wilt thou pursue the dry -stubble?" - - - - -Literary Notices. - - -_The Naval Dry Docks of the United States._ By CHARLES B. -STUART.--This elegant volume, by the Engineer-in-Chief of the United -States Navy, is dedicated with great propriety to President Fillmore. -It is an important national work, presenting a forcible illustration -of the scientific and industrial resources of this country, and of the -successful application of the practical arts to constructions of great -public utility. The Dry Docks at the principal Navy Yards in the -United States are described in detail--copious notices are given of -the labor and expense employed in their building--with a variety of -estimates, tables, and plans, affording valuable materials for -reference to the contractor and engineer. Gen. Stuart has devoted the -toil of many years to the preparation of this volume, which forms the -first of a series, intended to give a history and description of the -leading public works in the United States. He has accomplished his -task with admirable success. Every page bears the marks of fidelity, -diligence, and skill. The historical portions are written in a popular -style, and as few professional technicalities have been employed as -were consistent with scientific precision. In its external appearance, -this publication is highly creditable to American typography; a more -splendid specimen of the art has rarely, if ever been issued from the -press in this country. The type, paper, and binding are all of a -superior character, and worthy of the valuable contents of the volume. -The scientific descriptions are illustrated by twenty-four fine steel -engravings, representing the most prominent features of the Dry Docks -at different stages of their construction. We trust that this superb -volume, in which every American may well take an honest pride, will -not only attract the attention of scientific men, but find its way -generally into our public and private libraries. - -A unique work on the manners of gentlemen in society has been issued -by Harper and Brothers, entitled, _The Principles of Courtesy_. The -author, GEORGE WINFRED HERVEY, whom we now meet for the first time in -the domain of authorship, seems to have made a specialty of his -subject, judging from the completeness of detail and earnestness of -tone which he has brought to its elucidation. It is clearly his -mission to "catch the living manners as they rise" to submit them to a -stringent search for any thing contraband of good feeling or good -taste. He is an observer of no common acuteness. While he unfolds with -clearness the great principles of courtesy, few trifles of detail are -too unimportant to escape his notice. He watches the social bearing of -men in almost every imaginable relation of life--detects the slight -shades of impropriety which mar the general comfort--points out the -thousand little habits which diminish the facility and grace of -friendly intercourse--and spares no words to train up the aspirants -for decency of behavior in the way they should go. We must own that we -have usually little patience with works of this description. The -manners of a gentleman are not formed by the study of Chesterfield. A -formal adherence to written rules may make dancing-masters, or Sir -Charles Grandisons; but the untaught grace of life does not come from -previous intent. This volume, however, somewhat modifies our opinion. -It is no stupid collection of stereotype precepts, but a bold, lively -discussion of the moralities of society, interspersed with frequent -dashes of caustic humor, and occasional sketches of character in the -style of La Bruyere. Whatever effect it may have in mending the -manners of our social circles, it is certainly a shrewd, pungent book, -and may be read for amusement as well as edification. - -_An Exposition of some of the Laws of the Latin Grammar_, by GESSNER -HARRISON, M.D. (Published by Harper and Brothers.) This is a treatise -on several nice topics of Latin philology, which are discussed with -great sagacity and analytic skill. It is not intended to take the -place of any of the practical grammars now in use, but aims rather to -supply some of their deficiencies, by presenting a philosophical -explanation of the inflections and syntax of the language. Although -the subtle distinctions set forth by the author may prove too strong -meat for the digestion of the beginner, we can assure the adept in -verbal analogies, that he will find in this volume a treasure of rare -learning and profound suggestion. While professedly devoted to the -Latin language, it abounds with instructive hints and conclusions on -general philology. It is one of those books which, under a difficult -exterior, conceals a sweet and wholesome nutriment. Whoever will crack -the nut, will find good meat. - -An excellent aid in the acquisition of the French language may be -found in Professor FASQUELLE'S _New Method_, published by Newman and -Ivison. It is on the plan of Woodbury's admirable German Grammar, and -for simplicity, copiousness, clearness, and accuracy, is not surpassed -by any manual with which we are acquainted. - -_The Two Families_ is the title of a new novel by the author of "Rose -Douglas," republished by Harper and Brothers. Pervaded by a spirit of -refined gentleness and pathos, the story is devoted to the description -of humble domestic life in Scotland, perpetually appealing to the -heart by its sweet and natural simplicity. The moral tendency of this -admirable tale is pure and elevated, while the style is a model of -unpretending beauty. - -_A Greek Reader_, by Professor JOHN J. OWEN (published by Leavitt and -Allen), is another valuable contribution of the Editor to the -interests of classical education. It comprises selections from the -fables of Æsop, the Jests of Hierocles, the Apophthegms of Plutarch, -the Dialogues of Lucian, Xenophon's Anabasis and Cyropædia, Homer's -Iliad and Odyssey, and the Odes of Anacreon. With the brief Lexicon -and judicious Notes by the Editor, it forms a highly convenient -text-book for the use of beginners. - -The Second Volume of LAMARTINE'S _History of the Restoration_ (issued -by Harper and Brothers), continues the narrative of events from the -departure of Napoleon from Fontainebleau to his escape from Elba, his -defeat at Waterloo, and his final abdication. The tone of this volume -is more chaste and subdued, than that of the previous portions of the -work. The waning fortunes of the Emperor are described with calmness -and general impartiality, though the author's want of sympathy with -the fallen conqueror can not be concealed. Many fine portraitures of -character occur in these pages. In this department of composition, -Lamartine is always graphic and felicitous. We do not admit the charge -that he sacrifices accuracy of delineation to his love of effect. His -sketches will bear the test of examination. Among others, Murat, -Talleyrand, and Benjamin Constant are hit off with masterly boldness -of touch. In fact, whatever criticisms may be passed upon this work as -a history, no one can deny its singular fascinations as a -picture-gallery. - -_Clifton_, by ARTHUR TOWNLEY (published by A. Hart, Philadelphia), is -an American novel, chiefly remarkable for its lively portraitures of -fashionable and political life in this country. The plot has no -special interest, and is in fact subservient to the taste for -dissertation, in which the writer freely indulges. His sketches of -manoeuvres and intrigues in society and politics are often quite -piquant, betraying a sharp observer and a nimble satirist. We do not -know the position of the author, but he is evidently familiar with the -sinuosities of Washington and New York society. - -The Fourth Volume of _Cosmos_ by HUMBOLDT (republished by Harper and -Brothers), continues the Uranological portion of the Physical -Description of the Universe, completing the subject of Fixed Stars, -and presenting a thorough survey of the Solar Region, including the -Sun as the central body, the planets, the comets, the ring of the -zodiacal light, shooting stars, fireballs, and meteoric stones. This -volume, like those already published, is distinguished for its profuse -detail of physical facts and phenomena, its lucid exhibition of -scientific laws, and the breadth and profoundness of view with which -the unitary principles of the Universe are detected in the midst of -its vast and bewildering variety. Nor is Humboldt less remarkable for -the impressive eloquence of his style, than for the extent of his -researches, and the systematic accuracy of his knowledge. The sublime -facts of physical science are inspired with a fresh vitality as they -are presented in his glowing pages. He awakens new conceptions of the -grandeur of the Universe and the glories of the Creator. No one can -pursue the study of his luminous and fruitful generalizations, without -a deep sense of the wonderful laws of the divine harmony, and hence, -his writings are no less admirable in a moral point of view, than they -are for the boldness and magnificence of their scientific expositions. - -_Dollars and Cents_, by AMY LOTHROP (published by G. P. Putnam), is a -new novel of the "Queechy" school, in many respects bearing such a -marked resemblance to those productions, that it might almost be -ascribed to the same pen. Like the writings of Miss Wetherell, its -principal merit consists in its faithful descriptions of nature, and -its insight into the workings of the human heart in common life. The -dialogue is drawn out to a wearisome tenuity, while the general -character of the plot is also fatiguing by its monotonous and sombre -cast. The story hinges on the reverses of fortune in a wealthy family, -by whom all sorts of possible and impossible perplexities are endured -in their low estate, till finally the prevailing darkness is relieved -by a ray of light, when the curtain rather abruptly falls. In the -progress of the narrative, the writer frequently displays an uncommon -power of expression; brief, pointed sentences flash along the page; -but the construction of the plot, as a whole, is awkward; and the -repeated introduction of improbable scenes betrays a want of -invention, which finally marks the work as a failure in spite of the -talent which it occasionally reveals. - -The _Study of Words_ by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH (Published by -Redfield.) A reprint of a curious, but not very profound English work -on the derivation of words. The author presents a variety of specimens -of ingenious verbal analysis; always suggestive; but not seldom -fanciful; relying on subtle hypotheses, rather than on sound -authority. Still his book is not without a certain utility. It -enforces the importance of a nice use of language as an instrument of -thought. The hidden meaning wrapped up in the derivation of terms is -shown to be more significant than is usually supposed; and the -numerous instances of cunning etymology which it brings forward tend -to create a habit of tracing words to their origin, which directed by -good sense, rather than fancy, can not fail to exert a wholesome -influence in the pursuit of truth. - -_Life and Correspondence of Lord Jeffrey_, by Lord COCKBURN. -(Published by Lippincott, Grambo, and Co.) The best part of this book -is that in which Jeffrey is made to speak for himself. Except on the -ground of intimate friendship, Lord Cockburn had no special vocation -for the present task. He exhibits little skill in the arrangement of -his materials, and none of the graces of composition. His narrative is -extremely inartificial, and fails to present the subject in its most -commanding and attractive aspects. He often dwells upon trifles with a -zeal quite disproportioned to their importance. These defects, -however, are in some degree compensated by the thorough sincerity and -earnestness of the whole performance. It is altogether free from -pretension and exaggeration. Lord Cockburn writes like a plain, -hard-headed, common-sense Scotchman. He tells a straightforward story, -leaving it to produce its own effect, without superfluous -embellishment. His relations with Jeffrey were of the most familiar -character. Their friendship commenced early in life, and was continued -without interruption to the last hour. The difference in their -pursuits seemed only to cement their intimacy. Hence, on the whole, -the biography was placed in the right hands. We thus have a more -transparent record of the character of Jeffrey, than if the work had -been prepared in a more ambitious literary spirit. In fact, his -letters reveal to us the best parts of his nature, far more than could -have been done by any labored eulogy. The light they throw on his -affections is a perpetual surprise. His reputation in literature -depends so much on the keenness and severity of his critical -judgments, that we have learned to identify them with the personal -character of the writer. We think of him almost as a wild beast, -lurking in the jungles of literature, eager, with blood-thirsty -appetite, to pounce upon his prey. He seems to roll the most poignant -satire "as a sweet morsel under his tongue." But, in truth, this was -not his innate disposition. When prompted by a sense of critical -justice to slay the unhappy victim, "dividing asunder the joints and -the marrow," he does not spare the steel. No compunctuous visitings of -nature are permitted to stay the hand, when raised to strike. But, -really, there never was a kinder, a more truly soft-hearted man. He -often displays a woman's gentleness and wealth of feeling. The -contrast between this and his sharp, alert, positive, intellectual -nature is truly admirable. With his confidential friends, he lays -aside all reserve. He unbosoms himself with the frank artlessness of a -child. His letters to Charles Dickens are among the most remarkable in -these volumes. He early detected the genius of the young aspirant to -literary distinction. His passion for the writings of Dickens soon -ripened into a devoted friendship for the author, which was cordially -returned. Never was more enthusiastic attachment expressed by one man -for another than is found in this correspondence. It speaks well for -the head and heart of both parties. Incidental notices of the progress -of English literature during the last half-century are, of course, -profusely scattered throughout these volumes. The exceeding interest -of that period, the variety and splendor of its intellectual -productions, and the personal traits of its celebrities, furnish -materials of rare value for an attractive work. With all its defects -of execution, we must welcome this as one of the most delightful -publications of the season. - -_Eleven Weeks in Europe_, by JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. (Boston: Ticknor, -Reed, and Fields.) We never should be surfeited with books of travels, -if they all evinced the frankness, intelligence, and cultivated taste -which characterize this readable volume. Mr. Clarke shows how much can -be done in a short time on a European tour. His book is valuable as a -guide to the selection of objects, no less than for its excellent -descriptions and criticisms. Without claiming any great degree of -novelty, it has an original air from the freedom with which the author -uses his own eyes and forms his own judgments. He speaks altogether -from personal impressions, and does not aim to echo the opinions of -others, however wise or well-informed. His volume is, accordingly, a -rarity in these days, when every body travels, and all copy. - - * * * * * - -Messrs. Lippincott, Grambo, and Co., of Philadelphia, are now -publishing a library edition of the WAVERLEY NOVELS, to be complete in -12 monthly volumes, neatly bound in cloth, with illustrations, at one -dollar per volume. They also issue the work in semi-monthly parts, at -fifty cents, each part embracing a complete novel. The above will take -the place of the edition recently proposed by Harper and Brothers. - - * * * * * - -The third volume of DOUGLAS JERROLD'S writings contains some of his -most popular and remarkable pieces. The "Curtain Lectures, as suffered -by the late Job Caudle," and "The Story of a Feather" appeared -originally in _Punch_--and they have since been repeatedly reprinted, -the former in several editions. The thousands of readers who have -profited by the lectures of Mrs. Caudle may be glad to learn Mr. -Jerrold's characteristic account of the manner in which that household -oracle first addressed herself to his own mind. "It was a thick, black -wintry afternoon, when the writer stopt in the front of the -play-ground of a suburban school. The ground swarmed with boys full of -the Saturday's holiday. The earth seemed roofed with the oldest lead; -and the wind came, sharp as Shylock's knife, from the Minories. But -those happy boys ran and jumped, and hopped, and shouted, -and--unconscious men in miniature!--in their own world of frolic, had -no thought of the full-length men they would some day become; drawn -out into grave citizenship; formal, respectable, responsible. To them -the sky was of any or all colors; and for that keen east-wind--if it -was called the east-wind--cutting the shoulder-blades of old, old men -of forty--they in their immortality of boyhood had the redder faces, -and the nimbler blood for it. And the writer, looking dreamily into -that play-ground, still mused on the robust jollity of those little -fellows, to whom the tax-gatherer was as yet a rarer animal than baby -hippopotamus. Heroic boyhood, so ignorant of the future in the knowing -enjoyment of the present! And the writer, still dreaming and musing, -and still following no distinct line of thought, there struck upon -him, like notes of sudden household music, these words--CURTAIN -LECTURES. One moment there was no living object save those racing, -shouting boys; and the next, as though a white dove had alighted on -the pen-hand of the writer, there was--MRS. CAUDLE. Ladies of the -jury, are there not, then, some subjects of letters that mysteriously -assert an effect without any discoverable cause? Otherwise, -wherefore should the thought of CURTAIN LECTURES grow from a -school-ground?--wherefore, among a crowd of holiday schoolboys should -appear MRS. CAUDLE? For the LECTURES themselves, it is feared they -must be given up as a farcical desecration of a solemn time-honored -privilege; it may be exercised once in a life-time--and that once -having the effect of a hundred repetitions; as Job lectured his wife. -And Job's wife, a certain Mohammedan writer delivers, having committed -a fault in her love to her husband, he swore that on his recovery he -would deal her a hundred stripes. Job got well, and his heart was -touched and taught by the tenderness to keep his vow, and still to -chastise his helpmate; for he smote her once with a palm-branch having -a hundred leaves." To the "Curtain Lectures" and the "Story of a -Feather" Mr. Jerrold has added a very beautiful and characteristic -"tale of faëry," entitled, "The Sick Giant and the Doctor Dwarf." - - * * * * * - -A new edition of Professor ANTHON'S _Anabasis of Xenophon_, with -English notes, is published in London, under the revision of Dr. John -Doran. "Dr. Anthon," says the _Athenæum_, "has edited, and elucidated -by notes, several of the ancient classics, and whatever he has -undertaken he has performed in a scholarly style. At the same time his -books are entirely free from pedantry, and the notes and comments are -so plain and useful, that they are as popular with boys as they are -convenient for teachers." - - * * * * * - -The same Journal has rather a left-handed compliment to American -literature in general, to which, however, it is half inclined to make -our popular IK. MARVEL an exception. - -"There is no very startling vitality in any other of Mr. Marvel's -'daydreams.' Still, at the present period, when the writers of -American _belles-lettres_, biography and criticism, show such a -tendency to mould themselves into those affected forms by which -vagueness of thought and short-sightedness of view are disguised, and -to use a jargon which is neither English nor German--a writer -unpretending in his manner and simple in his matter is not to be -dismissed without a kind word; and therefore we have advisedly -loitered for a page or two with Ik. Marvel." - - * * * * * - -At a meeting of the Edinburgh Town Council, the following letter, -addressed to the Lord Provost, magistrates, and council, was read from -Professor Wilson, resigning the Professorship of Moral Philosophy in -the University: "My Lord and Gentlemen--When the kindness of the -patrons, on occasion of my sudden and severe illness in September -last, induced, and the great goodness of the learned Principal Lee -enabled them to grant me leave of absence till the close of the -ensuing session now about to terminate, the benefit to my health from -that arrangement was so great as to seem to justify my humble hopes of -its entire and speedy restoration; but, as the year advances, these -hopes decay, and I feel that it is now my duty to resign the chair -which I have occupied for so long a period, that the patrons may have -ample time for the election of my successor." - - * * * * * - -Among the candidates for the chair of Moral Philosophy in Edinburgh, -vacant by the resignation of Professor Wilson, are Professor Ferrier, -of St. Andrews; Professor Macdougall, of New College, Edinburgh; -Professor M'Cosh, of Belfast; Mr. J. D. Morell; Mr. George Ramsay, -late of Trin. Col., Cam., now of Rugby; and Dr. W. L. Alexander, of -Edinburgh. - - * * * * * - -Dr. MACLURE, one of the masters of the Edinburgh Academy, has been -appointed by the Crown to the Professorship of Humanity in Marischal -College, Aberdeen, vacant by the translation of Mr. Blackie to the -Greek chair at Edinburgh. - - * * * * * - -The motion for abolishing tests in regard to the non-theological -chairs of the Scottish universities has been thrown out, on the second -reading in the House of Commons, by 172 to 157. - - * * * * * - -Mr. W. JERDAN, late editor of _The Literary Gazette_, is to become -editor of "_The London Weekly Paper_," an "organ of the middle -classes." - - * * * * * - -The department of MSS. in the British Museum has been lately enriched -with a document of peculiar interest to English literature--namely, -the original covenant of indenture between John Milton, gent., and -Samuel Symons, printer, for the sale and publication of _Paradise -Lost_, dated the 27th of April, 1667. By the terms of agreement, -Milton was to receive £5 at once, and an additional £5 after the sale -of 1300 copies of each of the first, the second, and the third -"impressions" or editions--making in all the sum of £20 to be received -for the copy of the work and the sale of 3900 copies. - - * * * * * - -The _Athenæum_ thus notices the death of a late traveler in this -country. "The world of literature has to mourn the untimely closing of -a career full of promise--and which, short as it has been, was not -without the illustration of performance. Mr. ALEXANDER MACKAY, known -to our readers as the author of 'The Western World,' has been snatched -from life at the early age of thirty-two. Besides the work which bears -his name before the world, Mr. Mackay had already performed much of -that kind of labor which, known for the time only to the scientific -few, lays the ground for future publicity and distinction. Connected -as a special correspondent with the _Morning Chronicle_ he had been -employed by that journal in those collections of facts and figures on -the aggregate and comparison of which many of the great social and -statist questions of the day are made to depend. In 1850 Mr. Mackay -was commissioned by the Manchester Chamber of Commerce to visit India -for the purpose of ascertaining by minute inquiries on the spot what -obstacles exist to prevent an ample supply of good cotton being -obtained from its fields, and devising the means of extending the -growth of that important plant in our Eastern empire." - - * * * * * - -GRANIER DE CASSAGNAC, long known to France as an impudent, -unveracious, reckless journalist and critic, has published some -critical Essays, written in his obscurer days. He calls them _Oeuvres -Litéraires_. The volume contains articles on Chateaubriand, Lamennais, -Lacordaire, Corneille, Racine, Dumas, Hugo, &c. - - * * * * * - -The readers of the _Débats_ will remember a series of violent, -bigoted, conceited, but not unimportant articles in the _feuilleton_, -signed CUVILLIER FLEURY, devoted principally to the men and books of -the Revolutions of '89 and '48. Written with asperity and passion, -they have the force and vivacity of passion, although their intense -conceit and personality very much abates the reader's pleasure. M. -FLEURY has collected them in two volumes, under the title, _Portraits -Politiques et Révolutionnaires_. Politicians will be attracted toward -the articles on Louis-Philippe, Guizot, the Duchess of Orleans, the -Revolution of 1848, &c.; men of letters will turn to the articles on -Lamartine, Sue, Louis Blanc, Daniel Stern, Proudhon, and Victor Hugo, -or to those on Rousseau, St. Just, Barère, and Camille Desmoulins. - - * * * * * - -Baron de WALKAENER, Perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Inscriptions -et Belles Lettres, of Paris, died April 27. In addition to eminence in -what the French call the Moral and Political Sciences, he was a very -laborious _homme de lettres_, and has given to the world interesting -biographies of La Fontaine and other French writers, together with -correct editions of their works. He was a member of the Institute, and -was one of the principals of the Bibliothèque Nationale. - - * * * * * - -The first number of JACOB and WILHELM GRIMM'S _German Dictionary_ is -just out. It would be premature to criticise the work in its present -stage; it seems, however, to be most carefully and accurately -compiled. It is printed in large octavo form, in double columns, on -good paper, and in a clear print. Some idea may be formed of the labor -which has been expended on this work, from the fact that all the -leisure time of a learned professor has been devoted for the last -three years to reading through the works of Goethe alone in connection -with it. The first number consists of one hundred and twenty pages, -and contains about half the letter A. It is announced to us that 7000 -copies had been subscribed for up to the 20th of April. This is a -result almost unparalleled in the German book-trade, and not often -surpassed in England. - - * * * * * - -The library of the convent at Gaesdorf, in Germany, is in possession -of a most interesting MS. of REMPEN'S _De Successione Christi_. It -contains the whole of the four books, and its completion dates from -the year 1427. This MS. is therefore the oldest one extant of this -work, for the copy in the library of the Jesuits at Antwerp, which has -generally been mistaken for the oldest MS., is of the year 1440. The -publication of this circumstance also settles the question as to the -age of the fourth book of Rempen's work, which some erroneously -assumed had not been written previous to 1440. - - * * * * * - -The new Catalogue of the Leipzig Easter Book-Fair contains, according -to the German papers, 700 titles more than the previous Catalogue for -the half year ending with the Fair of St. Michael. The latter included -3860 titles of published books, and 1130 of forthcoming publications. -The present Catalogue enumerates 4527 published works and 1163 in -preparation. These 5690 books represent 903 publishers. A single house -in Vienna contributes 113 publications. That of Brockhaus figures for -95. - - * * * * * - -From Kiel it is stated that Germany has lost one of her most -celebrated natural philosophers in the person of Dr. PFAFF, senior of -the Professors of the Royal University of Kiel--who has died at the -age of seventy-nine. M. Pfaff is the author of a variety of well-known -scientific works--and of others on Greek and Latin archæology. Since -his death, his correspondence with Cuvier, Volta, Kielmayer, and and -other celebrated men, has been found among his papers. - - - - -Comicalities, Original and Selected. - - -[ILLUSTRATION: ILLUSTRATION OF HUMBUG. - -"'Tis true, there is a slight difference in our ages, but with hearts -that love, such considerations become frivolous. The world! Pshaw! Did -you but love as I do, you would care but little for its opinion. Oh! -say, beautiful being, will you be mine?"] - - * * * * * - -RULES FOR HEALTH. - -BY A SCOTCH PHILOSOPHER WHO HAS TRIED THEM ALL. - -Never drink any thing but water. - -Never eat any thing but oatmeal. - -Wear the thickest boots. - -Walk fifteen miles regularly every day. - -Avoid all excitement; consequently it is best to remain single, for -then you will be free from all household cares and matrimonial -troubles, and you will have no children to worry you. - -The same rule applies to smoking, taking snuff, playing at cards, and -arguing with an Irishman. They are all strong excitements, which must -be rigidly avoided, if you value in the least your health. - -By attending carefully to the above rules, there is every probability -that you may live to a hundred years, and that you will enjoy your -hundredth year fully as much as your twenty-first. - - * * * * * - -FINANCE FOR YOUNG LADIES. - -Taxes on knowledge are objected to, and taxes on food are objected to; -in fact, there is so much objection to every species of taxation, that -it is very difficult to determine what to tax. The least unpopular of -imposts, it has been suggested, would be a tax on vanity and folly, -and accordingly a proposition has been made to lay a tax upon stays; -but this is opposed by political economists on the ground that such a -duty would have a tendency to check consumption. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: MAINE-LAW PETITIONERS] - -[Illustration: ANTI MAINE-LAW PETITIONERS.] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: MATRIMONY MADE EASY.] - -The following letter has been sent to our office, evidently in -mistake: - - "_Matrimonial Office, Union Court, Love Lane._ - - "(STRICTLY PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.) - - "SIR--Your esteemed favor of the 10th ult. came duly to - hand, and, agreeably to your desire, we have the honor to - forward to you our quarterly sheet of photographic - likenesses of our Female Clients. We were very sorry that - the Ladies you fixed upon in our last year's sheets were all - engaged before your duly honored application arrived at our - Office; but we hope to be more fortunate in our present - sheet, which we flatter ourselves contains some highly - eligibles. We should, however, recommend as early an - application as possible, as, this being leap-year, Ladies - are looking up, and considerably risen in the Market, and - shares in their affections and fortunes are now much above - par. Should you not be particular to a shade, we should - respectfully beg leave to recommend No. 7, her father having - very large estates near Timbuctoo, to which she will be sole - heiress in case of her twenty-seven brothers dying without - issue. And should the Great African East and West Railway be - carried forward, the value of the Estates would be - prodigiously increased. No. 8 is a sweet poetess, whose - 'Remains' would probably be a fortune to any Literary Gent. - to publish after her decease. No. 9 has been much approved - by Gents., having buried eight dear partners, and is an - eighth time inconsolable. - - "Further particulars may be had on application at our - Office. - - "We beg also, respectfully, to inform you that your esteemed - portrait was duly received and appeared in our last Gent.'s - sheet of Clients; but we are sorry to say as yet no - inquiries respecting it have come to hand. - - "Permit us further to remind you that a year's subscription - was due on the 1st of January, which, with arrears amounting - to £4 4_s._, we shall be greatly obliged by your remitting - by return of post. - - "With most respectful impatience, awaiting a renewal of your - ever-esteemed applications, and assuring you that they shall - be duly attended to with all dispatch, secrecy, and - punctuality. - - "We have the honor to be, esteemed Sir, - - "Your most obedient Servants, - - "HOOKHAM AND SPLICER, - - "_Sole Matrimonial Agents for Great Britain_. - - "P.S.--We find our female clients run much on mustaches. - Would you allow us humbly to suggest the addition of them to - your portrait in our next Quarterly Sheet? It could be done - at a slight expense, and would probably insure your being - one of our fortunate clients." - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: FAVORITE INVESTMENTS. - -LADY.--"Goodness Bridget! what is that you have on?" - -BRIDGET.--"Shure! an' didn't I hear you say these Weskitts was all the -fashion? An' so I borrer'd me bruther Pathrick's to wait at the table -in."] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: AN AGREEABLE PARTNER. - -FASCINATING YOUNG LADY.--"I dare say you think me a very odd Girl--and -indeed, mamma always says I am a giddy, thoughtless creature--and--" - -PARTNER.--"Oh, here's a vacant seat, I think."] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: DELICACY. - -YOUNG GENTLEMAN.--"I don't want to hurry you out of the room, old -girl, but the fact is--I am going to wash myself."] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: THE DOG-DAYS. - -PROPRIETOR OF THE DOG.--"Has he been a bitin' on you, sir?" - -VICTIM.--"Oh!--Ah!--Ugh!" - -PROPRIETOR.--"Vell, I thought as there was somethink the matter with -him, cos he wouldn't drink nuffin for two days, and so I vos jist -a-goin to muzzle him."] - - * * * * * - -THE AMERICAN CRUSADERS. - -AIR--"_Dunois the Brave_." - - OLD HERMIT PETER was a goose - To preach the first Crusade, - And skase e'en GODFREY of Bouillon - The speculation paid; - They rose the banner of the Cross - Upon a foolish plan-- - Not like we hists the Stars and Stripes, - To go agin Japan. - - All to protect our mariners - The gallant PERRY sails, - Our free, enlightened citizens - A-cruisin' arter whales; - Who, bein' toss'd upon their shores - By stormy winds and seas, - Is wus than niggers used by them - Tarnation Japanese. - - Our war-cries they are Breadstuffs, Silks. - With Silver, Copper, Gold, - And Camphor, too, and Ambergris, - All by them crittars sold: - And also Sugar, Tin, and Lead, - Black Pepper, Cloves likewise. - And Woolen Cloths and Cotton Thread, - Which articles they buys. - - We shan't sing out to pattern saints - Nor gals, afore we fights, - Like, when they charged the Saracens, - Did them benighted knights: - But "Exports to the rescue, ho!" - And "Imports!" we will cry; - Then pitch the shell, or draw the bead - Upon the ene--my. - - We'll soon teach them unsocial coon - Exclusiveness to drop; - And stick the hand of welcome out, - And open wide their shop; - And fust, I hope we shant be forced - To whip 'em into fits, - And chaw the savage loafers right - Up into little bits. - - * * * * * - -POETICAL COOKERY BOOK. - -STEWED DUCK AND PEAS. - -AIR--"_My Heart and Lute_." - - I give thee all my kitchen lore, - Though poor the offering be; - I'll tell thee how 'tis cooked, before - You come to dine with me: - The Duck is truss'd from head to heels, - Then stew'd with butter well; - And streaky bacon, which reveals - A most delicious smell. - - When Duck and Bacon in a mass - You in a stewpan lay, - A spoon around the vessel pass, - And gently stir away: - A table-spoon of flour bring, - A quart of water plain, - Then in it twenty onions fling, - And gently stir again. - - A bunch of parsley, and a leaf - Of ever-verdant bay, - Two cloves--I make my language brief-- - Then add your Peas you may! - And let it simmer till it sings - In a delicious strain: - Then take your Duck, nor let the string - For trussing it remain. - - The parsley fail not to remove, - Also the leaf of bay; - Dish up your Duck--the sauce improve - In the accustom'd way, - With pepper, salt, and other things, - I need not here explain: - And, if the dish contentment brings, - You'll dine with me again. - - - - -Fashions for Summer. - - -[Illustration: FIGURES 1 AND 2.--COSTUMES FOR HOME AND FOR THE -PROMENADE.] - -Novelty is the distinguishing characteristic of the prevailing -fashions. Give us something new in material, is the cry to the -manufacturer. Give us something new in form, is the demand made upon -the modiste. Both do their best to meet this demand; and both have -succeeded. For the present, whatever is new, fantastic, striking, and -odd, is admired and adopted. It will doubtless be a work of time to -return to simplicity again. - -The costumes which we present for the present month, combine -originality enough to meet even the present demand, with good taste -and elegance--a union not always attainable. - -FIG. 1.--Dress of white taffeta with colored figures, a particular -pattern for each part of the dress. The ground of the skirt and body -is sprinkled with small Pompadour bouquets _en jardinière_, that is to -say, with flowers of different colors in graduated shades. The -flounces have scolloped edges; the ground is white, and over each -scollop is a rich bouquet of various flowers. The body is very high -behind; it opens square in front, and the middle of the opening is -even a little wider than the top (this cut is more graceful than the -straight one). The waist is very long, especially at the sides; the -front ends in a rounded point not very long. The bottom of the body is -trimmed with a _ruche_, composed of small white ribbons mixed with -others. This _ruche_ is continued on the waist, and meets at the -bottom of the point. There are three bows of _chiné_ ribbon on the -middle of the body. The upper one has double bows and ends; the other -two gradually smaller. The sleeves are rather wide, and open a little -behind at the side. The opening is rounded; the edge is trimmed with a -_ruche_, like the body. There is a small lace at the edge of the body. -The lace sleeves are the same form as those of the stuff, but they are -longer. Coiffure, _à la jeune Femme_--the parting on the left side; -the hair lying in close curls on each side. - -FIG. 2.--Redingote of _moire antique_; body high, with six -lozenge-shaped openings in front, diminishing in size toward the -waist. The edges of these lozenges are trimmed with velvet; the points -meet like bands under a button. Through these lozenge openings there -appears a white muslin habit-shirt, gathered in small flutes (this -muslin, however close, always projects through the openings, under the -pressure of the body). The habit-shirt is finished at the neck by two -rows of lace. The sleeve, which increases in size toward the bottom, -has also lozenge openings, confined by buttons, and through the -opening is seen a muslin under-sleeve, puffing a little, plaited -length-wise in small flutes and held at the wrist by an embroidered -band with lace at the edge. The skirt has nine graduated openings down -the front from top to bottom, buttoned like the others, through which -is seen a nansouk petticoat, worked with wheels linked together, small -at top and larger at bottom. Drawn bonnet of blond and satin. The brim -is very open at the sides and lowered a little in front. It is -transparent for a depth of four inches, and consists of five rows of -gathered blond, on each of which is sewed a narrow white terry velvet -ribbon, No. 1. The brim, made of Lyons tulle, is edged with a white -satin roll. The band of the crown is Tuscan straw on which are five -drawings of white satin. The top of the crown is round, and of white -satin; it is puffed in _crevés_. The curtain is blond, like the brim. -The ornament consists of a white satin bow, placed quite at the side -of the brim and near the edge.--The inside of the brim is trimmed with -four rows of blond, each having a narrow pink terry velvet, and a -wreath of roses, small near the forehead, larger near the cheeks. -Blond is likewise mixed with the flowers. - -[Illustration: FIG. 3.--BONNET.] - -FIG. 3.--BONNET. Foundation of crèpe; trimming of blond and satin; the -curtain of crèpe, edged with narrow blond. - -[Illustration: FIG. 4.--CARRIAGE COSTUME.] - -FIG. 4.--Dress of white muslin, the skirt with three deep flounces, -richly embroidered. The body, _à basquine_, is lined with pale blue -silk; it has a small pattern embroidered round the edge; which is -finished by a broad lace set on full. The sleeves have three rows of -lace, the bottom one forming a deep ruffle.--Waistcoat of pale blue -silk, buttoning high at the throat, then left open, about half way, to -show the chemisette; the waist is long, and has small lappets. White -lace bonnet, the crown covered with a _fanchonnette_ of lace; rows of -lace, about two inches wide, form the front. The bonnet is -appropriately trimmed with light and extremely elegant flowers. - -[Illustration: FIG. 5.--CAP.] - -FIG. 5.--_Fanchon_ of India muslin, trimmed with pink silk ribbons, -forming tufts near the cheek, and a knot on the head. - -[Illustration: FIG. 6.--SLEEVE.] - -FIG. 6.--_Pagoda sleeve_ of jaconet, with under-sleeves; trimming -relieved with small plaits. - -The new materials of the season include some elegant printed -cashmeres, bareges, and broche silks, in endless variety as to -pattern, and combination of color. There are some beautiful dresses of -_lampas, broché_, with wreaths and bouquets in white, on a blue, -green, or straw-colored ground. Among the lighter textures, adapted -for both day and evening wear, are some very pretty mousselines de -soie, and grenadines. The new bareges are in every variety of color -and pattern. - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - -Words surrounded by _ are italicized. - -Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent -spellings have been kept, including: -- use of accent (e.g. "Notre" and "Nôtre"); -- use of hyphen (e.g. "bed-room" and "bedroom"). - -Pg 198, word "was" removed from sentence "He was [was] the first..." - -Pg 248, sentence "(TO BE CONTINUED.)" added to the end of article. - -Pg 279, word "or" changed into "of" in sentence "...election of my -successor..." - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. -XXVI, July 1852, Vol. V, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY *** - -***** This file should be named 42693-8.txt or 42693-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/6/9/42693/ - -Produced by Judith Wirawan, 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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