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diff --git a/43368-8.txt b/43368-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index acfb2d0..0000000 --- a/43368-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15074 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. XXVII, -August 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. XXVII, August 1852, Vol. V - -Author: Various - -Release Date: July 31, 2013 [EBook #43368] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY, AUGUST 1852 *** - - - - -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. XXVII.--AUGUST, 1852.--VOL. V. - - - - -[Illustration: VIEW OF MT. CARMEL FROM THE SEA.] - -MEMOIRS OF THE HOLY LAND - -BY JACOB ABBOTT - - -MOUNT CARMEL. - -ASPECT OF THE MOUNTAIN. - -The Christian traveler, in journeying to the Holy Land, often -obtains his first view of the sacred shores from the deck of some -small Levantine vessel in which he has embarked at Alexandria, after -having completed his tour among the wonders of Egypt and the Nile. -He ascends, perhaps, to the deck of his vessel, early in the -morning, summoned by the welcome intelligence that the land is full -in view. Here, as he surveys the shore that presents itself before -him, the first object which attracts his eye is a lofty promontory -which he sees rising in sublime and sombre majesty above the -surrounding country, and at the same time jutting boldly into the -sea. It forms, he observes, the seaward terminus of a mountain range -which his eye follows far into the interior of the country, until -the undulating crest loses itself at last from view in the haze of -distant hills. The massive and venerable walls of an ancient convent -crown its summit; its sloping sides are enriched with a soft and -luxuriant vegetation; and the surf, rolling in from the sea, whitens -the rocks at its foot with breakers and foam. This promontory is Mt. -Carmel. - - -GEOGRAPHY OF THE VICINITY. - -The geographical situation of Mt. Carmel is shown by the adjoining -map. Palestine in the time of our Saviour was comprised in three -distinct provinces--Judea, Samaria, and Galilee. Of these, Judea, -which bordered upon the Dead Sea and the lower portion of the -Jordan, was the most southerly; while Galilee, which was opposite to -the sea of Tiberias and the upper part of the Jordan, was the most -northerly; being separated from Judea by the mountainous district of -Samaria, which lay between. The region comprised upon the map is -chiefly that of Samaria and Galilee. The chain of which Mt. Carmel -is the terminus forms the southern and southwestern boundary of -Galilee. A little south of the boundary was Mt. Gerizim, the holy -ground of the Samaritans. Mt. Gerizim forms a part of the great -central chain or congeries of mountains which rises in the interior -of Palestine, and from which the Carmel range branches, as a sort of -spur or offshoot, traversing the country in a westward and northward -direction, and continuing its course until it terminates at the sea. -The other principal mountain groups in the Holy Land are the ranges -of Lebanon on the north, and the mountainous tract about Jerusalem -in the south. - -[Illustration: MAP OF MOUNT CARMEL.] - -On the northern side of the Carmel chain, at some distance from the -sea, there lies a broad expanse of extremely rich and fertile -country, which, though not strictly level, is called a plain. It was -known in ancient times as the plain of Jezreel. It is now called the -plain of Esdraelon. The waters of this plain, flowing westward and -northward along the foot of Mt. Carmel to the sea, constitute the -river Kishon, so celebrated in sacred history. The sea itself sets -up a little way into the valley through which this river flows, -forming thus a broad bay to the north of Mt. Carmel, called the Bay -of Acre. The town of Acre lies at the northern extremity of this -bay, and the town of Haïfa[1] at the southern border of it, just at -the foot of Carmel. The ceaseless action of the sea has sloped and -smoothed the shore of this bay throughout the whole distance from -Haïfa to Acre, and formed upon it a beach of sand, which serves the -double purpose of a landing-place for the boats of the fishermen, -and a road for the caravans of travelers that pass to and fro along -the coast. The conformation of the bay, together with the precise -situation of Acre and Haïfa, as well as the more important -topographical details of the mountain, will be found very clearly -represented in the chart upon the adjoining page. - - -NAPOLEON'S ENGINEERS. - -The topographical chart of the bay of Acre here given is one made by -the engineers of the French army during Napoleon's celebrated -expedition to Egypt and Syria. These engineers accompanied the army -wherever it marched, and in the midst of all the scenes of -excitement, difficulty, and danger, through which they were -continually passing, devoted themselves to the performance of the -scientific duties which their commander had assigned them, with a -calmness and composure almost incredible. No possible excitement or -commotion around them seemed to have power to interrupt or disturb -them in their work. The din and confusion of the camp, the marches -and countermarches of the troops, the battles, the sieges, the -assaults, the excitement of victory, and the confusion of sudden and -unexpected retreats--all failed to embarrass or disconcert them. -Whatever were the scenes that might be transpiring around them, they -went quietly and fearlessly on, paying no regard to any thing but -their own proper duties. They adjusted their instruments; they made -their observations, their measurements, their drawings; they -computed their tables and constructed their charts; and in the end -they brought back to France a complete daguerreotype, as it were, of -every hill, and valley, and river, and plain, of the vast surface -which they traversed. The great chart from which the adjoining map -is taken was the last one which they made, for Acre was the northern -termination of Napoleon's expedition.[2] - -[Illustration: MOUNT CARMEL AND THE BAY OF ACRE.] - - -APPROACHES TO MOUNT CARMEL. - -By reference to the map, it will be seen that there are three roads -by which Mt. Carmel may be approached on land. One advances along -the coast from the southward, and passing round the promontory on -the western and northern side, between its steep declivity and the -sea, it turns to the east, and comes at last to the foot of the -branch road which leads up the mountain to the convent on the top. -The second is the road from Acre. It may be seen upon the map -following closely the line of the shore on the margin of the sandy -beach which has already been described. The third comes from -Nazareth, in the interior of the country. It descends from the plain -of Esdraelon by the banks of the Kishon, and joins the Acre road a -little to the east of the town of Haïfa. After passing through -Haïfa, the road follows the shore for a short distance, and then a -branch diverges to the right, leading to some ancient ruins on the -extremity of the cape. A little farther on another branch turns off -to the left, and leads up the mountain to the convent, while the -main road continues its course round the northern and western -extremity of the promontory, and there passes into the road that -comes up on the western coast, as at first described. - -Travelers approaching Mt. Carmel from the interior of the country -come generally from Nazareth by the way of the third road above -described, that is, the one that leads down from the valley of the -Kishon, following the bank of the stream. The town of Nazareth, -where the journey of the day in such cases is usually commenced, -lies among the hills about midway between the Mediterranean Sea and -the Sea of Tiberias. The route for some hours leads the traveler -along the northern part of the plain of Esdraelon, and charms him by -the scenes of beauty and fertility which pass before his view. He -sees rich fields of corn and grain, groves of the pomegranate, the -fig, and the olive, verdant valleys clothed with the most luxuriant -herbage, masses of hanging wood, that adorn the declivities of the -hills, and descend in capes and promontories of foliage to beautify -the plain, and ruins of ancient fortresses and towns, scattered here -and there in picturesque and commanding positions. The whole country -is like a romantic park, with the great chain of Mt. Carmel -extending continuously to the southward of it, and bounding the -view. - - -BAY OF ACRE. - -At length the great plain of Acre, with the bay, and the broad -expanse of the Mediterranean in the distance, opens before him. The -town of Acre, surrounded with its white walls, stands just on the -margin of the water, at the northern extremity of the bay; while at -the southern point of it stands Haïfa, sheltered by the mountain, -and adorned by the consular flags of the several nations who have -commercial agents there. In former times the principal harbor for -shipping was at Acre, but from some change which the course of time -has effected in the conformation of the coast or in the deposit of -sand, the only deep water is now found at the southern extremity of -the bay, where the Kishon finds its outlet--and Haïfa has -consequently become the port. It is not improbable, in fact, that -the greater depth of water at this point is to be attributed to the -effect produced by the outflow of the river in impeding the -accumulation of deposits from the sea. - -The river, as will be seen from the map, in flowing into the bay -passes across the beach of sand. Its depth and the quantity of water -which issues from it vary very much, according to the season of the -year, and thus the accounts of travelers who ford it at different -periods differ extremely. In its ordinary condition it is very -easily forded, but sometimes, when swollen with rains, it overflows -the meadows that line its banks, up the valley, and becomes wholly -impassable near its mouth. In the summer the stream often becomes so -low that the sea, incessantly rolling in from the offing, fills up -the outlet entirely with sand, and then smoothing over the dyke -which it has made, it forms a beach on the outer slope of it, and -thus the sandy shore of the bay is carried continuously across the -mouth of the river, and the water is shut back as by a dam. - -The next rain, however, and perhaps even the ordinary flow of the -river, causes the water to accumulate and rise behind this barrier -until it surmounts it. A small stream then begins to flow over the -beach--rapidly increasing in force and volume as the sand is washed -away--and thus the river regains once more its accustomed channel. -This alternate closing and opening of the outlet of a river is a -phenomenon often witnessed in cases where the river, at its mouth, -traverses a sandy beach on a coast exposed to winds and storms.[3] - -The distance from Haïfa to Acre along the shore of the bay is about -eight miles. Acre itself has always been a very celebrated fortress, -having figured as the central point of almost all great military -operations in Syria for nearly two thousand years. It has -experienced every possible form and phase of the fortune of war, -having been assaulted, defended, besieged, destroyed, and rebuilt -again and again, in an endless succession of changes, and in the -experience of every possible fortune and misfortune which twenty -centuries of uninterrupted military vicissitude could bring. Within -the knowledge of the present generation it has been the scene of two -terrific conflicts. Perhaps the most important of these events, in a -historical point of view, was the struggle for the possession of the -place between Napoleon and its English defenders, and the consequent -check which was placed upon Napoleon's career, on his advance from -Egypt into Syria. On his arrival at Acre, the young general found -the port in possession of an English force under the command of Sir -Sydney Smith, and though he made the most desperate and determined -efforts to dislodge them, he was unable to succeed. He planted his -batteries on the declivities of the hills behind the town, and -cannonaded the walls from that position; while the English supported -the garrison in their defense of the place, by firing upon the -batteries of the besiegers from ships which they had anchored in the -bay. - -[Illustration: DEFENSE OF ACRE.] - - -PRODUCTIONS OF THE COUNTRY. - -The plains and valleys which border the Carmel chain of mountains, -especially on the northern side, are extremely fertile. They yield -grapes, olives, corn, and other similar productions, in the greatest -abundance, while the grass that clothes the slopes of the -surrounding mountains, and adorns with verdure and beauty a thousand -secluded valleys that wind among them, furnishes an almost -exhaustless supply of food for flocks and herds. A considerable -quantity of wheat, barley, cotton, and other similar products is -exported, being brought down to Haïfa and Acre from the interior, on -the backs of mules and camels, led by drivers in long caravans and -trains. One traveler speaks of having been detained at the gates of -Acre, when going out to make an excursion into the surrounding -country, by a train of _one hundred_ camels, laden with corn, that -were just then coming in. - - -MISGOVERNMENT. - -The commerce of the port, however, would be vastly greater than it -is, were it not for the exactions of the government which restrict -and burden it exceedingly. It is true that governments generally -maintain themselves by taxing the commerce of the countries over -which they rule, but the despotic authorities that have borne -military sway in Syria and Palestine for the last five hundred -years, have done this, as it would seem, in a peculiarly exorbitant -and reckless manner. A practice is adopted in those countries of -"farming out" the revenue, as it is called; that is, the government -sells the privilege of collecting a certain tax to some wealthy -capitalist, who pays, or secures payment, in advance, and then -collects from the people what is due, on his own account. Of course -he is invested with power and authority from the government to -enforce the collection, and as it is a matter of personal interest -to him to make the amount that he receives as great as possible, he -has every conceivable inducement to be extortionate and oppressive. -The sufferers, too, in such cases generally find it useless to -complain; for the government know well that, if they wish to obtain -high prices from the farmers of the revenue, from year to year, they -must not obstruct them in any way in the claims which they make, or -the measures which they adopt, in collecting the amounts due, from -the people. - -In the more highly civilized and commercial nations of the world, a -very different system is adopted. The revenue is never farmed, but -it is collected by officers appointed for the purpose, in the name -and for the benefit of the government; and generally in such a way, -that they who assess the tax, have no direct pecuniary interest--or, -at most, a very inconsiderable one--in the amount whether larger or -smaller, which they receive. The assessors and collectors thus -occupy, in some respects, the position of impartial umpires between -the government and the people, with very slight influences operating -upon their minds, to produce a bias in favor of one side or the -other. Even in this way, the evils and disadvantages of raising -national revenues by taxing commercial transactions, are very great, -while, in the form that has so long prevailed in Syria and -Palestine, the result is utterly disastrous. The taxes are -increased, under one pretext or another, until the poor peasant and -laborer finds himself robbed of every thing but the bare means of -subsistence. All hope and possibility of acquiring property by his -industry and thrift, and of rising to a respectable position in -society are taken away from him, and he spends his life in idleness, -degradation, and despair. - - -AN INCIDENT. - -An incident strikingly illustrative of these truths, occurred to a -traveler who was visiting Acre, about the year 1815. One morning, in -rambling about the city, he chanced to come into the vicinity of the -custom house, at the port, and there he overheard a violent dispute -going on between some fishermen and a certain farmer of the -revenue--probably a wealthy merchant of the town--who was standing -near. It seems that a duty of about thirty-three per cent., that is, -one-third part of the whole price, had been laid upon all fish that -should be taken in the bay and brought into the port for sale; and -the privilege of collecting the tax had been sold to the merchant, -who was engaged in the dispute. It had been calculated that the -remaining two-thirds of the value of the fish would be sufficient to -induce the fishermen to continue their vocation. It proved, however, -not to be so. The cost of boats and outfit, and the other expenses -which were necessarily incurred in the prosecution of the business, -were so great, that the poor fishermen found when they had returned -to the shore and sold their fares, and paid the expenses of their -trip, that the government tax took so large a portion of what -remained, as to leave little or nothing over, to reimburse them for -their labor. They accordingly became discouraged, and began to -abandon the employment; so that the farmer who had bought the right -to collect the tax, was alarmed at finding that the revenue was -likely to fail altogether, inasmuch as for every five boats that had -been accustomed to go out to fish before, only one went now. The -dispute which attracted the attention of the traveler was occasioned -by the anger of the farmer, who was assailing the fishermen with -bitter invectives and criminations, and threatening to compel them -to go out to fish, in order that he might receive his dues. - - -THE TYRANT DJEZZAR. - -For many years extending through the latter part of the last -century, and the earlier portion of the present one, the narratives -of travelers visiting Acre are filled with accounts of the tyranny -and oppression exercised upon the people of the country by a certain -despot named Djezzar, the history of whose government illustrates -very forcibly the nature of the injuries to which the wretched -inhabitants of those countries are compelled to submit. Djezzar, in -his infancy was carried into Egypt a slave, and sold to Ali-Bey, a -celebrated ruler of that country. In the service of Ali-Bey he rose -to high civil stations, and at length, after passing through a -great number of vicissitudes and romantic adventures, in the course -of which he was transferred to the service of the Turkish -government, he was placed by the Turks in command of the Pachalik of -Acre, in 1775. Here he ruled with such despotic cruelty, that he -made himself an object of universal execration to all mankind, -excepting always those who had placed him in power; for they seemed -to be pleased rather than otherwise with his remorseless and -terrible energy. One of the first measures which he adopted when he -entered upon his government, was to confiscate all the houses of the -town of Acre, declaring them the property of the government, and -requiring the inhabitants to pay rent for them to him. The taxes -were exorbitantly increased, and every possible pretext was resorted -to to deprive the people of their property, and transfer it to the -government. Land which was left uncultivated for three years was -considered as abandoned by the owners, and thenceforth fell to him. -Whenever a vessel was stranded upon the coast, he seized upon every -thing that could be saved from the wreck, as his perquisite. His -favorite mode of punishing those who displeased him, was to mutilate -their persons by cutting off an ear, a nose, an arm, or a foot, or -by taking out an eye. Those who visited his palace, say that it was -common to see many persons in the ante-chambers and halls who were -disfigured thus, having incurred the cruel monster's displeasure -from time to time in the course of their service. These were his -"marked men," as he called them--"persons bearing signs of their -having been instructed to serve their master with fidelity." His -secretary, who was his principal banker and minister, was deprived -of both an ear and an eye, at the same time, for some offense, real -or imaginary, which he had committed, and yet still continued to -serve his savage master. Djezzar lived in a massive palace, -occupying a well-protected part of the city of Acre, with gardens in -the rear between the palace and the city wall. Within this palace -was his harem, the residence of his women. No person but himself was -ever admitted to the harem. He was accustomed to retire thither -every evening through three massive doors, one within the other, -which doors he always closed and barred with his own hands. No one -knew how many or what women the harem contained. Additions were -often made to the number, from female slaves that were presented to -Djezzar from time to time; but no one knew how many were thus -introduced, or what was their fate after they disappeared from -public view. Every possible precaution was taken to seclude the -inmates of this harem in the most absolute manner from the outer -world. Their food was conveyed to them by means of a sort of wheel -or cylinder, turning in the wall, and so contrived that those -without could not see who received it. If any one was sick, a -physician was brought to a room where there was a hole in the wall -through which the patient, concealed on the other side, put her arm, -and thus the pulse was examined, and a prescription made. We might -fill many pages with curious details in respect to the life and -character, and peculiar habits, of this extraordinary man, but we -must leave Acre and the bay, and prepare to ascend the mountain. - -[Illustration: HORSEMAN OF ACRE.] - - -THE MOUNTAIN. - -The height of Mt. Carmel has been generally estimated at about -fifteen hundred feet. This is a very unusual elevation for land that -rises thus abruptly from the margin of the sea. Of course, from -every cliff, and rock, and projecting head-land on the higher -portions of it there is obtained a widely extended and most -commanding view both over the water and over the land. The sea lies -toward the west; the prospect is consequently in that direction -unobstructed to the horizon, and the whole western quarter of the -sky is fully exposed to view. It is by understanding the position of -Mt. Carmel in this respect, that we appreciate the full force and -beauty of the passage that describes the coming of the rain, after -the destruction of the priests of Baal by the Prophet Elijah; for it -is always, as we observe, in the western sky, through the operation -of some mysterious and hidden laws which human philosophy has not -yet been able to unfold, that the clouds which produce sudden summer -showers arise. It is almost invariably there, that those rounded and -dome-like condensations are formed, which from small and almost -unperceived beginnings expand and swell until they envelop the whole -heavens in darkness and gloom, and then sweep over the earth in -tempests of thunder, lightning, and rain. The narrative of the -sacred writer, describing the event is as follows. - - -AHAB AND THE RAIN. - -"And Elijah said unto Ahab, Get thee up, eat and drink; for there is -a sound of abundance of rain. So Ahab went up to eat and to drink. -And Elijah went up to the top of Carmel; and he cast himself down -upon the earth, and put his face between his knees, and said to his -servant, Go up now, look toward the sea. And he went up, and looked -and said, There is nothing. And he said, Go again seven times. And -it came to pass at the seventh time that he said, Behold there -ariseth a little cloud out of the sea like a man's hand. And he -said, Go up, say unto Ahab, Prepare thy chariot, and get thee down -that the rain stop thee not. And it came to pass, in the mean while, -that the heaven was black with clouds and wind, and there was a -great rain."--1 Kings, xviii. 41-45. - - * * * * * - -The traveler, as he looks up to the summit of the mountain from the -beach of the Bay of Acre, over the sands of which he is slowly -making his way toward the foot of the ascent, pictures in his -imagination the form of the servant of Elijah standing upon some -projecting pinnacle, and looking off over the sea. He loses for the -moment his recollection of the age in which he lives, and under the -influence of a temporary illusion, forgetting the five-and-twenty -centuries which have elapsed since the days of Elijah, almost looks -to see the chariot and horsemen of Ahab riding away up the valley, -in obedience to the prophet's command. - - -ASCENT OF THE MOUNTAIN. - -The road to the mountain, as will appear from the map, passes -through Haïfa. Travelers and pilgrims, however, seldom make any stay -in the town. There is no inn there to detain them. The convent is -the inn--on the top of the mountain. After passing Haïfa, the road, -as may be seen upon the map, follows the line of the shore for about -half a mile, and then turns a little inland, while a branch of the -main road, diverging to the right, continues along the shore of the -sea. This branch leads to the extremity of the cape, where are -situated the ruins of an ancient place named Porphyrion, and also a -small fortress, on the point. Porphyrion was a place of some -consequence in former times, but it went gradually to decay, and at -last when Haïfa was built it was entirely abandoned. - -A short distance further on, the traveler comes to another branch, -where a mule-path turns off to the left from the main road, and -leads up the mountain. The ascent is steep, but the path is so -guarded by a parapet on the outer side wherever required, that it -awakens no sense of danger. The declivities of the mountain, above -and below the path, are clothed with trees and herbage, with gray -walls, forming picturesque cliffs, and precipices, appearing here -and there among them. There is a profusion, too, of wild flowers of -every form and hue, which attract and charm the traveler, wherever -he turns. He looks off at every salient point that he passes in his -ascent, over the bay. He sees the white walls of the city of Acre -rising from the margin of the water at the extremity of it, far in -the distance--and never ceases to admire the smooth and beautiful -beach which lies spread out before him, its broad expanse broken, -perhaps, here and there on the side toward the sea, with the wrecks -of ships which lie there half buried, and enlivened on the land with -trains of mules or of camels passing toward Acre or Haïfa, or by -some picturesque group of tents pitched upon the plain--the -encampment of some wandering tribe of Arabs, or of a party of -European travelers. Further inland, he surveys broad fields of -luxuriant vegetation, variegated with every shade of green and -brown, and groves of trees that extend along the margin of the -rivers, and crown the summits of the distant hills. In a calm and -clear summer's morning, the observer looks down upon this brilliant -scene of verdure and beauty, as upon a map, and lingers long on his -way, to study minutely every feature of it. - -[Illustration: THE ASCENT OF THE MOUNTAIN.] - - -THE RIVER BELUS AND THE DISCOVERY OF GLASS. - -About midway between Haïfa and Acre, the traveler, pausing at some -resting-place in the progress of his ascent, may trace the course of -the river Belus, as it meanders through the plain beneath him, -northwardly, toward an outlet just in the rear of Acre, where it -empties into the sea. The course and direction of the stream are -delineated upon the map near the commencement of this article. This -river is celebrated as the place where, according to ancient story, -the discovery of the art of making glass was first made by means of -an accidental vitrification which chanced to take place under -certain peculiar circumstances, on its shores.[4] Glass is composed -essentially of silicious substances--such as sand--combined with -certain alkalies by fusion. For sand, though very refractory if -exposed alone to the influence of heat, when mixed with these -alkaline substances fuses easily, and _vitrifies_, that is it forms -a glass, which is more or less perfect according to the precise -nature of the substances employed, and the arrangements of the -process. The story of the origin of the discovery is, that a vessel -came into the mouth of the Belus from the Bay of Acre, laden with -certain fossil alkalies which were found somewhere along the coast, -and were used in those times for certain purposes, and that the -sailors landed on the beach and built a fire there, with a view of -taking supper on the shore. When the fire was made they looked about -the beach for stones to use as a support for their kettle; but the -soil being alluvial and sandy they were not able to find any stones, -and so they brought instead three fragments of the alkaline fossil, -whatever it might have been, with which their vessel was loaded. -These fragments they placed in the margin of the fire which they had -built upon the sand, and rested the kettle upon them; thus by means -of the alkali, the sand, the metal, and the fire, all the conditions -were combined that are essential to produce a vitrification, and -after their supper was ended the seamen found the glassy substance -which had been produced, lying beneath the fire. They made their -discovery known, and the experiment was repeated. Soon after this -the regular manufacture of glass for vessels and ornaments was -commenced in the city of Sidon, which lies on the coast of the -Mediterranean, not many miles north of the mouth of the Belus, and -from Sidon the art soon spread into every part of the civilized -world. - -[Illustration: THE DISCOVERY OF GLASS.] - - -THE CONVENT. - -The time required for the ascent from Haïfa to the convent is about -an hour--the buildings of the institution, though often spoken of as -upon the top of the mountain, being really only about two-thirds of -the way up to the highest summit. The condition in which the various -travelers who have visited the spot within the last hundred years -have found the institution, and the accounts which they have given -of the edifice and of the inmates, varies extremely according to the -time of the visit. In fact, after Napoleon's defeat before Acre, the -convent was entirely destroyed, and the spot was for a time -deserted. The cause of this was that Napoleon took possession of the -edifice for the purpose of using it as a hospital, and quartered his -wounded and disabled soldiers there. The Turks, consequently, when -they came and found the institution in the possession of the French, -considered themselves authorized to regard it as a post of the -enemy. They accordingly slaughtered the troops which they found -there, drove away the monks, and blew up the buildings. From this -time the convent remained desolate and in ruins for more than twenty -years. - -At length, between 1820 and 1830, a celebrated monk, known by the -name of John Baptist, undertook the work of building up the -institution again. With great zeal, and with untiring patience and -perseverance, he traversed many countries of Europe and Asia to -gather funds for the work, and to remove the various obstacles which -are always in the way in the case of such an undertaking. He -succeeded, at length, in accomplishing the work, and the convent was -rebuilt in a more complete and extended form than ever before. Since -that time, accordingly, the traveler finds, when he reaches the brow -of the mountain where the convent buildings stand, a stately and -commodious edifice ready to receive him. Like most of the other -convents and monasteries of Asia, the institution serves the purpose -of an inn. A monk receives the traveler and his party, and conducts -them to a commodious sitting-room, furnished with a carpet, with -tables, and with chairs. A corridor from this apartment leads to -bed-rooms in the rear, furnished likewise in a very comfortable -manner, with beds, chairs, and tables;--articles which attract the -attention of the traveler, and are specially mentioned in his -journal, as they are very rarely to be found in the East. On the -terraces and balconies of the building the visitor, wearied with the -toil of the ascent, finds seats where he reposes in peace, and -enjoys the illimitable prospect which the view commands, both up and -down the coast, and far out over the waters of the Mediterranean -Sea. - -Travelers are entertained at the convent as at an inn, except that -in place of a formal reckoning when they depart, they make their -acknowledgment for the hospitality which they have received in the -form of a donation to the monastery, the amount of which custom -prescribes. The rule is that no guest is to remain longer than a -fortnight--the arrangements being designed for the accommodation of -travelers, and not of permanent guests. This rule, however, is not -strictly enforced, except so far as to give to parties newly -arriving the precedence in respect to choice of rooms, over those -whose fortnight has expired. While the guests remain, they are very -kindly and hospitably entertained by the monks, who appear before -them clothed in a hood and cassock of coarse brown cloth, with a -rope girdle around the loins, and sandals upon the feet--the ancient -habit of the order. Their countenances wear a thoughtful and -serious, if not sad expression. - - -THE GROTTOS AND CAVES. - -The halo of sacredness which invests Mt. Carmel proceeds from the -memory of the prophet Elijah, who, while he lived on the earth, made -this mountain his frequent resort, if not his usual abode. This we -learn from the Scriptures themselves, as well as from the long and -unbroken testimony of ancient tradition. The memorable transactions -connected with the destruction of the priests of Baal, in the time -of Ahab, at the conclusion of which came the sudden rain, as -described in the passage already quoted, is supposed to have taken -place at the foot of the mountain near this spot--and the ground on -which the priests were slain is still shown, as identified by -ancient tradition, on the banks of the Kishon, a little way up the -valley.[5] The mountain above is full of grottos and caves. It is -said that more than a thousand have been counted. The one which is -supposed to have been Elijah's special abode is now within the -buildings of the convent. Higher up, among the rocks behind the -convent, is another which is called Elisha's cave, and at some -distance below, in the bottom of a frightful chasm, into which the -traveler descends by a steep and dangerous path, and which opens -toward the sea, is another cavern, the largest and most noted of -all. It forms a large and lofty apartment, vaulted above, and is -said to have been the place where Obadiah concealed and protected -the company of prophets, one hundred and fifty in number, and fed -them with bread and water while they remained in their retreat.[6] -This cave is called accordingly the cave of the prophets. The -situation of this grotto is beyond description solitary, desolate, -and sublime. Nothing is to be seen from within it but the open sea, -and no sound is heard but the breaking of the surf, as it rolls in -upon the rocky shore six hundred feet below. - - -THE PETRIFACTIONS. - -Among the other objects of interest and attraction for the pilgrims -and travelers that visit Mt. Carmel, are certain curious stones, -well known to geologists as a common mineral formation, but which -pass with the pilgrims and monks for petrified grapes, dates, or -melons, according to their size and configuration. These stones are -round in form, and are often hollow, being lined with a crystalline -incrustation within, the crystals representing, in the imagination -of the pilgrim, the seeds of the fruit from which the specimen was -formed. These fossils are found in a part of the mountain remote -from the convent, where a stream comes down from the heights above, -and they are supposed to be miraculous in their origin. The legend -accounting for the production of them is this. - -In the time of Elijah there was a garden and a vineyard on the spot, -and one day as Elijah was passing that way, weary and faint with his -journey, he looked over the wall and asked the owner of the ground -to give him some of the melons and fruits that he saw growing there. -The man refused the wayfarer's request, saying jestingly in his -refusal, that those things were not melons and fruits, but only -stones. "Stones then let them be," said Elijah, and so passed on. -The gardener, on turning to examine the fruits of his garden, found -to his consternation that they had all been turned into stone, and -ever since that day the ground has been under a curse, and has -produced nothing but stony semblances of fruit, instead of the -reality. These supposed petrifactions are greatly prized by all who -visit the mountain. Well informed travelers value them as specimens -illustrative of a very singular superstition, and as souvenirs of -their visit to the spot;--while monks and pilgrims believe them to -possess some supernatural virtue. They suppose that though Elijah's -denunciation proved a curse to the ground in respect to the owner, -in causing it to produce these flinty mockeries, the stones -themselves, being miraculous in their nature and origin, are endued -with some supernatural power to protect and bless those who -reverently collect and preserve them. - -[Illustration: ELIJAH AND THE GARDENER.] - - -ORIGIN OF THE CARMELITE ORDER. - -The convent of Mt. Carmel, as alluded to and described by travelers -during the last five hundred years is to be understood as denoting -not a single building, but a series of buildings, that have risen, -flourished, and gone to decay on the same spot, in a long -succession, like a dynasty of kings following each other in a line -on the same throne. The grottos and caverns which are found upon the -mountain began to be occupied at a very early period by hermits and -solitary monks, who lived probably at first in a state of separation -from each other as well as of seclusion from the world. After a time -however they began to combine together, and to live in edifices -specially constructed for their use, and for the last thousand years -the Carmelites have constituted a well known and numerous religious -order, having spread from their original seat and centre to every -part of Europe, and taken a very active and important part in the -ecclesiastical affairs of modern times. Every religious order of the -Roman Church prides itself on the antiquity of its origin, and the -traditions of the Carmelites for a long time carried back the -history of their society to a very remote period indeed--not merely -to the Christian era, but from the time of Christ and the apostles -back to Elijah, and from Elijah to Enoch. In discussing this -subject, however, one ecclesiastical writer very gravely maintains -that the Enoch, if there was one, among the founders of the -Carmelite fraternity, could not have been the patriarch Enoch, the -father of Methusaleh, since it is plain that there could have been -no Carmelite monks among those saved in the ark, at the time of the -deluge, for the vow of celibacy was an essential rule of the order -from the beginning, and the sons of Noah, who were the only men -besides Noah himself that were saved from the flood, were all -married men, and took their wives with them when they went into the -ark! - -These traditions, however, ascribing a very high antiquity to the -order of the Carmelites, were allowed to pass for many centuries -with very little question; but at last, about two hundred years ago, -certain religious historians belonging to other monastic orders, in -the course of the investigations which they made into the early -history of the church, came to the conclusion that the institution -of the Carmelites was founded in the twelfth century of the -Christian era. The earliest authentic information that they could -find, they said, in respect to its origin was the account given by a -traveler by the name of John Phocas, who visited the mountain in -1185, in the course of a tour which he was making in the Holy Land. -He relates that he ascended Mt. Carmel, and that he found there the -cave of Elijah, describing it as it now appears. He also states that -there was a monastery there which had been founded a few years -before by a venerable monk, gray-headed and advanced in years, who -had come upon the mountain in obedience to a revelation which he had -received from the Prophet Elijah, enjoining upon him so to do, and -that he had built a small tower for a dwelling, and a small chapel -for the purpose of worship, and that he had established himself here -with ten companions of the same religious profession with himself; -and this was the true origin of the convent of Mt. Carmel. - - -A CONTROVERSY. - -The Carmelite monks throughout Europe were every where greatly -displeased at the publication of this account, which cut off at a -single blow some two thousand years from the antiquity of their -order, even supposing their pretensions to go no farther back than -to the time of Elijah. A protracted and very bitter controversy -arose. Volumes after volumes were published--the quarrel, as is -usual with religious disputes, degenerating in character as it -advanced, and growing continually more and more rancorous and -bitter, until at last the Pope interposed and put an end to the -dispute by a bull. The bull did not attempt to decide the question; -it only silenced the combatants. Nothing more was to be said by any -party, or under any pretext, on the origin of the institution of the -Carmelites, but the whole subject was entirely interdicted. This -bull, the issuing of which was a most excellent act on the part of -his Holiness, proved an effectual remedy for the evil which it was -intended to suppress. The dispute was suddenly terminated, and -though the question was in form left undecided, it was settled in -fact, for it has since been generally admitted that the story of -John Phocas was true, and that Mt. Carmel, though inhabited by -hermits and individual recluses long before, was not the seat of a -regularly organized society of Monks until nearly twelve centuries -after the Christian era. - - -THE MONK ST. BASIL. - -The Carmelites themselves were accustomed to maintain that the -earliest written rule for the government of their order was given -them by a very celebrated ancient monk, known in history as St. -Basil. St. Basil lived about three hundred years after the time of -Christ. He was descended from a distinguished family, and received -an excellent education in early life, in the course of which he made -very high attainments in all the branches of knowledge customarily -pursued in those days. His mind, however, being strongly impressed -with a sense of religious obligation, he determined not to engage in -the duties of the profession for which he had been trained, but to -seclude himself from the world, in accordance with the custom that -prevailed in those days, and spend his life in religious meditation -and prayer. As a preliminary step he determined on taking a journey -into the countries where the practice of religious retirement had -begun to prevail, in order to visit the hermits, recluses, and -monks, in their dens and caves, and become practically acquainted -with the mode of life which these voluntary exiles from the world -were accustomed to lead. He accordingly set out upon his travels, -and in the course of a few years he explored Egypt, Palestine, -Syria, Asia Minor, and other countries still farther east, in order -to visit and converse with all the monks and hermits that he could -find, in the deserts and solitudes to which they had retired. We can -not here give the subsequent particulars of his life. It is -sufficient to say that his learning, his high rank, his exalted -character, and perhaps his honest and conscientious piety, combined -to raise him in the end to a very commanding position in respect to -the whole monastic world while he lived, and to inspire many -succeeding generations with a great veneration for his memory. He -was believed to have been during his life an object of the special -and miraculous protection of heaven; for it is recorded as sober -historic truth, that at one time, during the latter part of his -career, when certain theological enemies had prevailed in obtaining -a sentence of banishment against him, and the decree, properly drawn -up, was brought to the emperor to sign, the pen which was put into -the emperor's hand broke suddenly into pieces as soon as it touched -the paper. The emperor called for another pen, but on attempting to -use it the same result followed. This was done three times, and at -last, as the emperor seemed determined to persist in his design, his -hand was seized with a sudden and uncontrollable trembling, and the -chair upon which he was sitting broke down, and let him fall upon -the floor. The emperor now perceived that he was contending against -God, and taking up the decree he destroyed it by tearing it in -pieces. - -Now the Carmelites maintained that this St. Basil was a monk of -their order, that he was one of the successors of Elijah, that they -had obtained their first written rule of their order from him, and -that the Basilians, an order of monks taking their name from him and -well known throughout Europe in the middle ages, were to be -considered as only a branch, or offshoot, from the ancient Carmelite -institution. Out of this state of things there arose subsequently a -very extraordinary controversy between the Basilians and the -Carmelites as will presently appear. - - -RULES OF THE ORDER. - -The claim of the Carmelites to have received their first written -charter from St. Basil is not very well sustained, as the earliest -authentic evidence of any written rule for the government of the -institution relates to one given them by the patriarch of Jerusalem -in 1205, about thirty years after the time when the monastery was -founded, according to John Phocas's narrative. This "rule," or -charter as it would be called at the present day, consisted of -sixteen articles, and some particulars of it may be interesting to -the reader as illustrating the nature of this species of document. -The first article treats of the election of the prior of the -monastery, and of the obedience which was to be rendered to him by -the other monks. The second treats of the cells in which the -brethren were to live, and prescribes that they should be separated -from each other in such a way that there could be no intercourse or -communication between the respective inmates. The third contains -regulations in respect to the cell of the prior, its situation and -relation to the other cells. The fifth requires the monks to remain -constantly each within his own cell except when called away by -regularly prescribed duties elsewhere, and to devote himself in his -retirement to the work of prayer and meditation. The sixth -prescribes certain regulations in respect to divine service. By the -seventh the monks are forbidden to possess any private property of -any kind. The eighth requires the brethren of the monastery to build -an oratory or place of prayer in some central place, near the cells, -and to assemble there every morning to hear mass. The ninth -prescribes rules for the internal discipline of the institution. The -tenth enjoins certain fast days. The eleventh forbids the use of -flesh for food entirely. The twelfth exhorts the monks to clothe -themselves with certain spiritual armor which it describes. The -thirteenth enjoins upon them to labor with their hands, in -cultivating the fruits of the earth in their little gardens. The -fourteenth enjoins absolute silence upon them, from vespers until -the break of day on the following morning. The fifteenth inculcates -upon them the duty of humility and of devoting themselves to prayer; -and the sixteenth closes the series by exhorting them to be always -obedient and submissive to the prior. - - -EARLY MONASTIC LIFE. - -There is no question that the monastic system of Christian Europe, -established originally by such beginnings as these, led in the end -to evil consequences and results of the most deplorable character, -and we are accustomed, as Protestants, to believe that there is -nothing that is not worthy of unqualified condemnation in it from -beginning to end. But when we dismiss from our minds the ideas and -associations with which the religious history of the last five -hundred years has invested every thing that pertains to monastic -life, and look at such a community as this of Mt. Carmel as it was -in its original inception and design, we shall find it impossible to -ascribe the conduct of those simple-minded recluses to any other -motive than a desire to withdraw themselves from the world, in a -spirit of honest self-denial, in order to live nearer to God, and -enjoy the peace and happiness of daily and uninterrupted communion -with him. And as to the delusion and folly of the course which they -pursued, in order to judge impartially, we must look at the -circumstances of the case as they really were, and see how -effectually, in the arrangements which the hermits made, all the -essential requisites for human comfort and happiness were secured. -The mountain which they chose for their retreat was beautiful beyond -description; the soil was fertile, the air was balmy and pure, and -such was the climate that the season with them was an almost -perpetual summer. They had gardens to till, which produced them an -abundance of fruits and vegetables, and in those climes the human -constitution requires no other food. The grottos in which they lived -were dry, and formed undoubtedly very safe and not uncomfortable -dwellings. They suffered neither heat nor cold, for in Palestine -cold is seldom known, and though the sun is sometimes hot, and the -air sultry, in the valleys, the mountain which they dwelt upon rises -into a region of perpetual salubrity, where there is always an -atmosphere of soft and balmy air reposing in the groves, or -breathing gently over the summit. Besides all these natural -advantages of their situation, their course of daily duty gave them -healthful and agreeable employment. Their hours were systematically -arranged, and their occupations, though varied in kind, were regular -in rotation and order. Thus, on the whole, though there was -doubtless much of superstition and of error in their ideas, still we -are inclined to think that there are some usages and modes of life -not at all monastic in their character--to be witnessed among the -world-following Christians of the present day, in palaces of wealth -and prosperity--which exhibit quite as much delusion and folly as -was ever evinced by these poor world-abandoning monks, in the caves -and grottos of Mt. Carmel. - -[Illustration: THE HERMITS OF MOUNT CARMEL.] - - -THE DISPUTE WITH THE BASILIANS. - -A society of monks once established, depends of course for its -continuance and prosperity on external additions, and not on any -internal growth; for since celibacy is the rule of all monastic -orders, there can not be in such communities, as in the case of an -ordinary hamlet or village, any natural sequence of generations. A -man is never born a monk: so that monasticism has at least one of -the marks and characteristics of a monstrosity. It does not -propagate its kind. - -Notwithstanding this, however, the institution on Mt. Carmel -gradually increased. Accessions were made from time to time to the -numbers of the monks, until at length the order became so numerous -that several branch institutions were established in different parts -of Europe, and the Carmelites became very generally known throughout -the Christian world. We can not here, however, go away from the -mountain to follow the society in its general history, though we -will digress from our immediate subject so far as to give a brief -account of the singular controversy which arose in subsequent years -between the Carmelites and the Basilians, a controversy which not -only exhibits in a striking point of view some of the peculiar ideas -and religious usages of the times in which it occurred, but -illustrates certain important principles in respect to the nature of -religious controversy, that are applicable to the disputes of every -age. The question in this case related to the costume in which the -prophet Elijah was represented in a certain picture belonging to a -church which the Basilians built near Messina, in the island of -Sicily. The church was built in the year 1670, and the open -controversy arose then; but the origin of it may be traced to a -period antecedent to that time. It seems that in 1080, six hundred -years before the dispute to which we are referring commenced, a -certain Sicilian potentate built a church near Mt. Etna, in honor of -the prophet Elijah, as a token of his gratitude to the prophet for -appearing to him in a visible form at one time when he was involved -in very imminent danger, in his wars with the Saracens, and for -interposing to protect him. He also built a monastery in connection -with the church, and established a society of Basilian monks in it. - -It seems that at the time when the church and monastery were built, -a picture of the prophet Elijah was painted and hung in the church, -where it remained without exciting any question, for six hundred -years. - -At length at the expiration of that time the buildings of the -establishment having become very old, and being often greatly -damaged, and the lives of the inmates seriously endangered by the -shocks of earthquakes and the volcanic eruptions to which their -situation so near to Mt. Etna exposed them, it was determined to -remove the institution to another place, several miles distant from -its original location, where the ground was more secure. The old -picture of Elijah was however found to be too much decayed to be -removed. A careful copy of it was therefore made, the artist taking -care to transfer, as nearly as possible, to his copy, both the -features and the costume of the original. The following engraving is -a faithful representation of this portrait and of the dress which -became the subject of the dispute, except of course that the colors -are not shown. The shoulders are covered with a cloak which in the -painting was red. Beneath the cloak was a tunic, formed of the skin -of some animal, which descended to the knees. There were sandals on -the feet. There was a sword tipped with flame in the hand, and the -head was covered with a red cap trimmed with ornaments of gold. - -[Illustration: THE ELIJAH OF THE BASILIANS.] - -This painting in its original state had hung in its place in the old -convent during the whole six hundred years without attracting any -special notice; but when the copy was made and hung up in the new -convent, it became an object of greater attention, and the -Carmelites who saw or heard of it were much displeased with the -costume, inasmuch as it was not the costume of their order. The -painting by exhibiting the prophet in such a dress, seemed to deny -that Elijah had been a Carmelite, and to claim him as belonging to -some other order. They complained to the Basilians of the injustice -done them, and demanded that the obnoxious costume should be -changed. Finding, however, that their complaints and remonstrances -were unavailing, they appealed to the Archbishop of Sicily, praying -him to interpose his authority to redress the injury which they were -suffering, and to compel the Basilians to take down the painting in -question, the display of which was so dishonorable to the ancient -order of Mt. Carmel. The Basilians in reply alleged that the costume -of the portrait was no innovation of theirs, and they were not -responsible for it at all. The work, they said, was a faithful copy -of an ancient painting that had hung for six hundred years, -unquestioned and uncomplained of, in their former monastery, and -that they could not give up the ancient traditions and relics of -their institution; and they were especially unwilling to consent -that the prophet Elijah should be represented in their church in a -Carmelite dress, since that would prejudice the ancient claims of -the Basilian order. - - -SETTLEMENT OF THE DISPUTE. - -[Illustration: THE AUTHORIZED ELIJAH.] - -The Archbishop of Sicily, after a long hearing of the parties to -this dispute, refused to interpose, and finally the case was carried -by the Carmelites to Rome, and laid before a certain board of the -Roman church called the College of Rites, a sort of tribunal having -jurisdiction of all questions of this nature that might arise in the -Catholic church, and assume sufficient importance to come before -them. Here the Carmelites brought forward their cause, and offered -their complaints in language more earnest than ever. They -represented in very strong terms the deep dishonor which the -Basilians were inflicting upon them in publicly exhibiting the -prophet Elijah--the patriarch and the father of their order--dressed -in a cloak, and wearing a red cap upon his head, as if he were a -Turkish pashaw. To give force and emphasis to their plea they -exhibited to the sacred college before whom the cause was to be -tried, a representation of the picture, colored like the original, -in order that the judges might see for themselves how flagrant was -the wrong which they endured, and how much cause they had to -complain. After many long and patient hearings of the case before -the college, and many fruitless attempts to find some mode -satisfactory to all parties, for settling the dispute, the college -finally decided upon a middle course, a sort of forced compromise -which gave the victory to neither party. The costume of the painting -was ordered to be changed. The cap was to be taken away from the -head, and the sandals from the feet, and the red cloak was to be -replaced by one of a saffron color. The tunic of skin was to be -retained, and it was to be bound about the waist with a leathern -girdle. A new picture was accordingly painted in accordance with -this decision, as represented in the above engraving. The -controversy occupied ten years; it gave rise to protracted and -voluminous proceedings, and embroiled a great number of partisans -among all ranks and orders of the church: and by comparing the two -engravings the reader will see at a glance the amount of the -difference about which the combatants were contending. It might -excite surprise in our minds that a large section of the Christian -church could thus be engaged for ten years in an earnest, expensive, -and bitter controversy about the costume of a painting, were it not -that we sometimes see examples at the present day, of disputes -equally earnest and protracted, about points smaller and more -shadowy still. It ought, however, in strict justice to be said that -the real questions at issue in disputes about religious rites and -forms, are not usually as insignificant as they seem. Within and -beyond the outward symbol there usually lies some principle of -religious faith, which is, after all, the real object of the -controversy. In this case, for example, the comparative claims to -antiquity and pre-eminence on the part of two powerful religious -orders constituted the real question at issue. The costume of the -painting formed only the accidental battle ground, as it were, on -which the war was waged. It is thus with a great many religious -controversies, where at first view it would seem that the point at -issue is wholly inadequate to account for the degree of interest -taken in the dispute. The explanation is that the apparent question -is not the real one. The outward aspect of the contest seems to -indicate that the combatants are merely disputing about a form, -while they are really contending for a principle that lies concealed -beneath it. They are like soldiers at a siege, who fight on outer -walls, in themselves worthless, to defend homes and fire-sides that -are concealed within, entirely out of view. - - -DESCENT FROM THE MOUNTAIN. - -[Illustration: THE SERPENT.] - -But we must return to the mountain, though we return to it only to -come down, for it is time that our visit to it should be ended. In -his excursions around the convent during his stay on the mountain, -the visitor is somewhat restricted in respect to the range that he -can safely take, by fear of the wild beasts that infest the jungles -and thickets that grow densely on the declivities of the mountain, -and around the base of it, especially on the southern side. -Panthers, hyenas, wild boars, and strange serpents, make these -forests their abode, occupying, perhaps, in many cases, the caves -and grottos of the ancient recluses, for their dens. Many tales are -told by the monks of these savage beasts, and of the dangers which -pilgrims and travelers have incurred from them. There is an account -of a child which was found in a certain situation dead, with a -monstrous serpent coiled upon its breast. On examination of the body -no mark of any bite or wound could be perceived, and it was -accordingly supposed that the life of the little sufferer had been -extinguished by the chill of the body of the reptile, or by some -other mysterious and deadly agency, which it had power to exert. -Even the roadway leading up and down the mountain is not always -safe, it would seem, from these dangerous intruders. It is rocky and -solitary, and is bordered every where with gloomy ravines and -chasms, all filled with dense and entangled thickets, in which, and -in the cavernous rocks of which the strata of the mountain are -composed, wild beasts and noxious animals of every kind find a -secure retreat. The monks relate that not many years ago a servant -of the convent, who had been sent down the mountain to Haïfa, to -accompany a traveler, was attacked and seized by a panther on his -return. The panther, however, instead of putting his victim -immediately to death, began to play with him as a cat plays with a -mouse which she has succeeded in making her prey--holding him gently -with her claws, for a time, and then, after drawing back a little, -darting upon him again, as if to repeat and renew the pleasure of -capturing such a prize. This was continued so long, that the cries -of the terrified captive brought to the spot some persons that -chanced to be near, when the panther was terrified in her turn, and -fled into the forests; and then the man was rescued from his -horrible situation unharmed. - -[Illustration: THE PANTHER.] - -For these and similar reasons, travelers who ascend to the convent -of Mt. Carmel enjoy but little liberty there, but must confine their -explorations in most cases to the buildings of the monks, and to -some of the nearest caves of the ancient recluses. Still the spot is -rendered so attractive by the salubrity of the air, the intrinsic -beauty of the situation, the magnificence of the prospect, and the -kind and attentive demeanor of the monks, that some visitors have -recommended it as a place of permanent resort for those who leave -their homes in the West in pursuit of health, or in search of -retirement and repose. The rule that requires those who have been -guests of the convent more than two weeks to give place to others -more recently arrived, proves in fact to be no serious difficulty. -Some kind of an arrangement can in such cases always be made, though -it is seldom that any occasion arises that requires it. The -quarters, too, though plain and simple, are comfortable and neat, -and although the visitor is somewhat restricted, from causes that -have already been named, in respect to explorations of the mountain -itself, there are many excursions that can be made in the country -below, of a very attractive character. He can visit Haïfa, he can -ride or walk along the beach to Acre; he can go to Nazareth, or -journey down the coast, passing round the western declivity of the -mountain. In these and similar rambles he will find scenes of -continual novelty to attract him, and be surrounded every where with -the forms and usages of Oriental life. - - -LEAVING MOUNT CARMEL. - -The traveler who comes to Mt. Carmel by the way of Nazareth and the -plain of Esdraelon, in going away from it generally passes round the -western declivity of the mountain, and thence proceeds to the south, -by the way of the sea. On reaching the foot of the descent, where -the mountain mule-path comes out into the main road, as shown upon -the map near the commencement of this article, he turns short to the -left, and goes on round the base of the promontory, with the lofty -declivities of the mountain on one hand, and a mass of dense forests -on the other, lying between the road and the shore. As he passes on, -the road, picturesque and romantic from the beginning, becomes -gradually wild, solitary, and desolate. It leads him sometimes -through tangled thickets, sometimes under shelving rocks, and -sometimes it brings him out unexpectedly to the shore of the sea, -where he sees the surf rolling in upon the beach at his feet, and -far over the water the setting sun going down to his rest beneath -the western horizon. At length the twilight gradually disappears, -and as the shades of the evening come on, lights glimmer in the -solitary villages that he passes on his way; but there is no welcome -for him in their beaming. At length when he deems it time to bring -his day's journey to an end, he pitches his tent by the wayside in -some unfrequented spot, and before he retires to rest for the night, -comes out to take one more view of the dark and sombre mountain -which he is about to leave forever. He stands at the door of his -tent, and gazes at it long and earnestly, before he bids it -farewell, equally impressed with the sublime magnificence of its -situation and form, and with the solemn grandeur of its history. - - - FOOTNOTES: - - [1] Spelled variously, by different authors, Caïpha, Kaïfa, - Caiffa, and in other ways. - - [2] The charts, as executed by the engineers, were on a - still larger scale than is here represented. It was - necessary to reduce the scale by one-fourth, in order to - bring the portion to be copied within the limits of a page. - - [3] A striking example of this occurs at Long Branch in New - Jersey, where a stream crosses the beach in entering the - sea, at a point about half a mile to the southward of the - hotels resorted to on that coast in summer by bathers. The - visitor who walks along the shore in that direction, - sometimes at a certain point finds himself upon an elevated - sandy ridge, with the surf of the sea rolling in upon one - side of it, and what appears to be a large inland pond lying - quietly on the other. A few days afterward, on visiting the - spot, he observes, perhaps, that the pond has disappeared; - and a wide chasm has been made across the ridge of sand that - he walked over before in safety, through the centre of which - a small stream is flowing quietly into the sea. Neither of - these views are of a nature to awaken any very special - interest, except when they are considered in connection with - each other: but if the observer should chance to come upon - the ground when the pond is nearly full, he may witness a - very extraordinary spectacle in the rushing out of the - torrent by which the barrier is carried away. The boys of - the vicinity often find amusement in hastening the - catastrophe, by digging a little channel in the sand with - their hands, when the water has risen nearly to the proper - level. The stream that flows through this opening is at - first extremely small, but it grows wider, deeper, and more - rapid every moment, as the opening enlarges, and soon - becomes a roaring torrent, spreading to a great width, and - tossing itself into surges and crests as it rushes down the - slope into the sea, in the most wild and tumultuous manner. - - The spectacle is almost equally imposing when, after the - pond has emptied itself, and the tide begins to rise, the - surf of the sea engages in its work of reconstructing the - dam. - - [4] It is somewhat doubtful whether the very first discovery - of the art of making glass, took place here or not, as - learned men have noticed a considerable number of allusions - in various writings of a very high antiquity, which they - have thought might possibly refer to this substance. An - example of this kind is found in the book of Job, where a - word, translated crystal, is used. The writer, speaking of - wisdom, says, "It can not be equaled with the gold of Ophir, - with the precious onyx, or the sapphire. The gold and the - _crystal_ can not equal it." It has been considered doubtful - whether the word crystal, in this connection, is meant to - denote a glass or some transparent mineral. - - [5] See 1 Kings xviii. 17-46. For other passages of - Scripture referring to Mt. Carmel see 2 Kings ii. 25; iv. - 25; xix. 23. 2 Chron. xxvi. 10. Isa. xxxv. 2. Jer. xlvi. 18. - Amos i. 2; ix. 3. Micah vii. 14. - - [6] 1 Kings xviii. 4 - - - - -NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. - -BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT. - - -FIRST CONSUL FOR LIFE. - -France was now at peace with all the world. It was universally -admitted that Napoleon was the great pacificator. He was the idol of -France. The masses of the people in Europe, every where regarded him -as their advocate and friend, the enemy of aristocratic usurpation, -and the great champion of equality. The people of France no longer -demanded _liberty_. Weary years of woe had taught them gladly to -relinquish the boon. They only desired a ruler who would take care -of them, govern them, protect them from the power of allied -despotism, and give them equal rights. Though Napoleon had now but -the title of First Consul, and France was nominally a republic, he -was in reality the most powerful monarch in Europe. His throne was -established in the hearts of nearly forty millions of people. His -word was law. - -It will be remembered that Josephine contemplated the extraordinary -grandeur to which her husband had attained, with intense solicitude. -She saw that more than ordinary regal power had passed into his -hands, and she was not a stranger to the intense desire which -animated his heart to have an heir to whom to transmit his name and -his glory. She knew that many were intimating to him that an heir -was essential to the repose of France. She was fully informed that -divorce had been urged upon him as one of the stern necessities of -state. One day, when Napoleon was busy in his cabinet, Josephine -entered softly, by a side door, and seating herself affectionately -upon his knee, and passing her hand gently through his hair, said to -him, with a burst of tenderness, "I entreat you, my friend, do not -make yourself king. It is Lucien who urges you to it. Do not listen -to him." Napoleon smiled upon her kindly, and said, "Why, my poor -Josephine, you are mad. You must not listen to these fables which -the old dowagers tell you. But you interrupt me now; I am very busy; -leave me alone." - -It is recorded that Lucien ventured to suggest to Josephine that a -law higher than the law of ordinary morality required that she must -become a mother, even were it necessary, for the attainment of that -end, that she should violate her nuptial vows. Brutalizing and -vulgar infidelity had obliterated in France, nearly all the -sacredness of domestic ties. Josephine, instinctively virtuous, and -revering the religion of her childhood, which her husband had -reinstated, bursting into tears, indignantly exclaimed, "This is -dreadful. Wretched should I be were any one to suppose me capable of -listening, without horror, to your infamous proposal. Your ideas are -poisonous; your language horrible." "Well, then, madame," responded -Lucien, "all that I can say is, that from my heart I pity you." - -Josephine was at times almost delirious in apprehension of the awful -calamity which threatened her. She knew the intensity of her -husband's love. She also knew the boundlessness of his ambition. -She could not be blind to the apparent importance, as a matter of -state policy, that Napoleon should possess an heir. She also was -fully aware that throughout France marriage had long been regarded -but as a partnership of convenience, to be formed and sundered -almost at pleasure. "Marriage," said Madame de Stael, "has become -but the sacrament of adultery." The nation, under the influence of -these views, would condemn her for selfishly refusing assent to an -arrangement apparently essential to the repose of France and of -Europe. Never was a woman placed in a situation of more terrible -trial. Never was an ambitious man exposed to a more fiery -temptation. Laying aside the authority of Christianity, and -contemplating the subject in the light of mere expediency, it seemed -a plain duty for Napoleon and Josephine to separate. But gloriously -does it illustrate the immutable truth of God's word, that even in -such an exigence as this, the path which the Bible pointed out was -the only path of safety and of peace. "In separating myself from -Josephine," said Napoleon afterward, "and in marrying Maria Louisa, -I placed my foot upon an abyss which was covered with flowers." - -Josephine's daughter, Hortense, beautiful, brilliant, and amiable, -then but eighteen years of age, was strongly attached to Duroc, one -of Napoleon's aids, a very fashionable and handsome man. Josephine, -however, had conceived the idea of marrying Hortense to Louis -Bonaparte, Napoleon's younger brother. She said, one day, to -Bourrienne, "My two brothers-in-law are my determined enemies. You -see all their intrigues. You know how much uneasiness they have -caused me. This projected marriage with Duroc, leaves me without any -support. Duroc, independent of Bonaparte's friendship, is nothing. -He has neither fortune, rank, nor even reputation. He can afford me -no protection against the enmity of the brothers. I must have some -more certain reliance for the future. My husband loves Louis very -much. If I can succeed in uniting my daughter to him, he will prove -a strong counterpoise to the calumnies and persecutions of my -brothers-in-law." These remarks were reported to Napoleon. He -replied, "Josephine labors in vain. Duroc and Hortense love each -other, and they shall be married. I am attached to Duroc. He is well -born. I have given Caroline to Murat, and Pauline to Le Clerc. I can -as well give Hortense to Duroc. He is brave. He is as good as the -others. He is general of division. Besides, I have other views for -Louis." - -In the palace the heart may throb with the same joys and griefs as -in the cottage. In anticipation of the projected marriage Duroc was -sent on a special mission to compliment the Emperor Alexander on his -accession to the throne. Duroc wrote often to Hortense while absent. -When the private secretary whispered in her ear, in the midst of the -brilliant throng of the Tuileries, "I have a letter," she would -immediately retire to her apartment. Upon her return her friends -could see that her eyes were moistened with the tears of affection -and joy. Josephine cherished the hope that could she succeed in -uniting Hortense with Louis Bonaparte, should Hortense give birth to -a son, Napoleon would regard him as his heir. The child would bear -the name of Bonaparte; the blood of the Bonapartes would circulate -in his veins; and he would be the offspring of Hortense, whom -Napoleon regarded as his own daughter, and whom he loved with the -strongest parental affection. Thus the terrible divorce might be -averted. Urged by motives so powerful, Josephine left no means -untried to accomplish her purpose. - -Louis Bonaparte was a studious, pensive, imaginative man, of great -moral worth, though possessing but little force of character. He had -been bitterly disappointed in his affections, and was weary of the -world. When but nineteen years of age he had formed a very strong -attachment for a young lady whom he had met in Paris. She was the -daughter of an emigrant noble, and his whole being became absorbed -in the passion of love. Napoleon, then in the midst of those -victories which paved his way to the throne of France, was -apprehensive that the alliance of his brother with one of the old -royalist families, might endanger his own ambitious projects. He -therefore sent him away on a military commission, and secured, by -his powerful instrumentality, the marriage of the young lady to -another person. The disappointment preyed deeply upon the heart of -the sensitive young man. All ambition died within him. He loved -solitude, and studiously avoided the cares and pomp of state. -Napoleon, not having been aware of the extreme strength of his -brother's attachment, when he saw the wound which he had inflicted -upon him, endeavored to make all the amends in his power. Hortense -was beautiful, full of grace and vivacity. At last Napoleon fell in -with the views of Josephine, and resolved, having united the two, to -recompense his brother, as far as possible, by lavishing great -favors upon them. - -It was long before Louis would listen to the proposition of his -marriage with Hortense. His affections still clung to the lost -object of his idolatry, and he could not, without pain, think of -union with another. Indeed a more uncongenial alliance could hardly -have been imagined. In no one thing were their tastes similar. But -who could resist the combined tact of Josephine and power of -Napoleon. All obstacles were swept away, and the maiden, loving the -hilarity of life, and its gayest scenes of festivity and splendor, -was reluctantly led to the silent, pensive scholar, who as -reluctantly received her as his bride. Hortense had become in some -degree reconciled to the match, as her powerful father promised to -place them in high positions of wealth and rank. Louis resigned -himself to his lot, feeling that earth had no further joy in store -for him. A magnificent _fête_ was given in honor of this marriage, -at which all the splendors of the ancient royalty were revived. -Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, who, as President of the French Republic, -succeeded Louis Philippe, the King of the French, was the only child -of this marriage who survived his parents. - -Napoleon had organized in the heart of Italy a republic containing -about five millions of inhabitants. This republic could by no means -maintain itself against the monarchies of Europe, unaided by France. -Napoleon, surrounded by hostile kings, deemed it essential to the -safety of France, to secure in Italy a nation of congenial -sympathies and interests, with whom he could form the alliance -of cordial friendship. The Italians, all inexperienced in -self-government, regarding Napoleon as their benefactor and their -sole supporter, looked to him for a constitution. Three of the most -influential men of the Cisalpine Republic, were sent as delegates to -Paris, to consult with the First Consul upon the organization of -their government. Under the direction of Napoleon a constitution was -drafted, which, considering the character of the Italian people, and -the hostile monarchical influences which surrounded them, was most -highly liberal. A President and Vice-president were to be chosen for -ten years. There was to be a Senate of eight members and a House of -Representatives of seventy-five members. These were all to be -selected from a body composed of 300 landed proprietors, 200 -merchants, and 200 of the clergy and prominent literary men. Thus -all the important interests of the state were represented. - -In Italy, as in all the other countries of Europe at that time, -there were three prominent parties. The Loyalists sought the -restoration of monarchy and the exclusive privileges of kings and -nobles. The Moderate Republicans wished to establish a firm -government, which would enforce order and confer upon all equal -rights. The Jacobins wished to break down all distinctions, divide -property, and to govern by the blind energies of the mob. Italy had -long been held in subjection by the spiritual terrors of the priests -and by the bayonets of the Austrians. Ages of bondage had enervated -the people and there were no Italian statesmen capable of taking the -helm of government in such a turbulent sea of troubles. Napoleon -resolved to have himself proposed as President, and then reserving -to himself the supreme direction, to delegate the details of affairs -to distinguished Italians, until they should, in some degree, be -trained to duties so new to them. Says Thiers, "This plan was not, -on his part, the inspiration of ambition, but rather of great good -sense. His views on this occasion were unquestionably both pure and -exalted." But nothing can more strikingly show the almost miraculous -energies of Napoleon's mind, and his perfect self-reliance, than the -readiness with which, in addition to the cares of the Empire of -France, he assumed the responsibility of organizing and developing -another nation of five millions of inhabitants. This was in 1802. -Napoleon was then but thirty-three years of age. - -To have surrendered those Italians, who had rallied around the -armies of France in their hour of need, again to Austrian -domination, would have been an act of treachery. To have abandoned -them, in their inexperience, to the Jacobin mob on the one hand, and -to royalist intrigues on the other, would have insured the ruin of -the Republic. But by leaving the details of government to be -administered by Italians, and at the same time sustaining the -constitution by his own powerful hand, there was a probability that -the republic might attain prosperity and independence. As the press -of business rendered it extremely difficult for Napoleon to leave -France, a plan was formed for a vast congress of the Italians, to be -assembled in Lyons, about half way between Paris and Milan, for the -imposing adoption of the republican constitution. Four hundred and -fifty-two deputies were elected to cross the frozen Alps, in the -month of December. The extraordinary watchfulness and foresight of -the First Consul, had prepared every comfort for them on the way. In -Lyons sumptuous preparations were made for their entertainment. -Magnificent halls were decorated in the highest style of earthly -splendor for the solemnities of the occasion. The army of Egypt, -which had recently landed, bronzed by an African sun, was gorgeously -attired to add to the magnificence of the spectacle. The Lyonese -youth, exultant with pride, were formed into an imposing body of -cavalry. On the 11th of January, 1802, Napoleon, accompanied by -Josephine, arrived in Lyons. The whole population of the adjoining -country had assembled along the road, anxiously watching for his -passage. At night immense fires illumined his path, blazing upon -every hill side and in every valley. One continuous shout of "Live -Bonaparte," rolled along with the carriage from Paris to Lyons. It -was late in the evening when Napoleon arrived in Lyons. The -brilliant city flamed with the splendor of noon-day. The carriage of -the First Consul passed under a triumphal arch, surmounted by a -sleeping lion, the emblem of France, and Napoleon took up his -residence in the Hotel de Ville, which, in most princely -sumptuousness had been decorated for his reception. The Italians -adored Napoleon. They felt personally ennobled by his renown, for -they considered him their countryman. The Italian language was his -native tongue, and he spoke it with the most perfect fluency and -elegance. The moment that the name of Napoleon was suggested to the -deputies as President of the Republic, it was received with shouts -of enthusiastic acclamation. A deputation was immediately sent to -the First Consul to express the unanimous and cordial wish of the -convention that he would accept the office. While these things were -transpiring, Napoleon, ever intensely occupied, was inspecting his -veteran soldiers of Italy and of Egypt, in a public review. The -elements seemed to conspire to invest the occasion with splendor. -The day was cloudless, the sun brilliant, the sky serene, the air -invigorating. All the inhabitants of Lyons and the populace of the -adjacent country thronged the streets. No pen can describe the -transports with which the hero was received, as he rode along the -lines of these veterans, whom he had so often led to victory. The -soldiers shouted in a frenzy of enthusiasm. Old men, and young men, -and boys caught the shout and it reverberated along the streets in -one continuous roar. Matrons and maidens, waving banners and -handkerchiefs, wept in excess of emotion. Bouquets of flowers were -showered from the windows, to carpet his path, and every conceivable -demonstration was made of the most enthusiastic love. Napoleon -himself was deeply moved by the scene. Some of the old grenadiers, -whom he recognized, he called out of the ranks, kindly talked with -them, inquiring respecting their wounds and their wants. He -addressed several of the officers, whom he had seen in many -encounters, shook hands with them, and a delirium of excitement -pervaded all minds. Upon his return to the Hotel de Ville, he met -the deputation of the convention. They presented him the address, -urging upon him the acceptance of the Presidency of the Cisalpine -Republic. Napoleon received the address, intimated his acceptance, -and promised, on the following day, to meet the convention. - -[Illustration: REVIEW AT LYONS.] - -The next morning dawned brightly upon the city. A large church, -embellished with richest drapery, was prepared for the solemnities -of the occasion. Napoleon entered the church, took his seat upon an -elevated platform, surrounded by his family, the French ministers, -and a large number of distinguished generals and statesmen. He -addressed the assembly in the Italian language, with as much ease of -manner, elegance of expression, and fluency of utterance as if his -whole life had been devoted to the cultivation of the powers of -oratory. He announced his acceptance of the dignity with which they -would invest him, and uttered his views respecting the measures -which should be adopted to secure the prosperity of the _Italian -Republic_, as the new state was henceforth to be called. Repeated -bursts of applause interrupted his address, and at its close one -continuous shout of acclamation testified the assent and the delight -of the assembled multitude. Napoleon remained at Lyons twenty days, -occupied, apparently every moment, with the vast affairs which then -engrossed his attention. And yet he found time to write daily to -Paris, urging forward the majestic enterprises of the new government -in France. The following brief extracts, from this free and -confidential correspondence, afford an interesting glimpse of the -motives which actuated Napoleon at this time, and of the great -objects of his ambition. - -"I am proceeding slowly in my operations. I pass the whole of my -mornings in giving audience to the deputations of the neighboring -departments. The improvement in the happiness of France is obvious. -During the past two years the population of Lyons has increased more -than 20,000 souls. All the manufacturers tell me that their works -are in a state of high activity. All minds seem to be full of -energy, not that energy which overturns empires, but that which -re-establishes them, and conducts them to prosperity and riches." - -"I beg of you particularly to see that the unruly members, whom we -have in the constituted authorities, are every one of them removed. -The wish of the nation is, that the government shall not be -obstructed in its endeavors to act for the public good, and that the -head of Medusa shall no longer show itself, either in our tribunes -or in our assemblies. The conduct of Sieyes, on this occasion, -completely proves that, having contributed to the destruction of all -the constitutions since '91, he wishes now to try his hand against -the present. He ought to burn a wax candle to Our Lady, for having -got out of the scrape so fortunately and in so unexpected a manner. -But the older I grow, the more I perceive that each man must fulfill -his destiny. I recommend you to ascertain whether the provisions for -St. Domingo have actually been sent off. I take it for granted that -you have taken proper measures for demolishing the Châtelet. If the -Minister of Marine should stand in need of the frigates of the King -of Naples, he may make use of them. General Jourdan gives me a -satisfactory account of the state of Piedmont." - -"I wish that citizen Royer be sent to the 16th military division, to -examine into the accounts of the paymaster. I also wish some -individual, like citizen Royer, to perform the same duty for the -13th and 14th divisions. It is complained that the receivers keep -the money as long as they can, and that the paymasters postpone -payment as long as possible. The paymasters and the receivers are -the greatest nuisance in the state." - -"Yesterday I visited several factories. I was pleased with the -industry and the severe economy which pervaded these establishments. -Should the wintry weather continue severe, I do not think that the -$25,000 a month, which the Minister of the Interior grants for the -purposes of charity, will be sufficient. It will be necessary to add -five thousand dollars for the distribution of wood, and also to -light fires in the churches and other large buildings to give warmth -to a great number of people." - -Napoleon arrived in Paris on the 31st of January. In the mean time, -there had been a new election of members of the Tribunate and of the -Legislative body. All those who had manifested any opposition to the -measures of Napoleon, in the re-establishment of Christianity, and -in the adoption of the new civil code, were left out, and their -places supplied by those who approved of the measures of the First -Consul. Napoleon could now act unembarrassed. In every quarter there -was submission. All the officers of the state, immediately upon his -return, sought an audience, and, in that pomp of language which his -majestic deeds and character inspired, presented to him their -congratulations. He was already a sovereign, in possession of regal -power, such as no other monarch in Europe enjoyed. Upon one object -all the energies of his mighty mind were concentrated. France was -his estate, his diadem, his all. The glory of France was his glory, -the happiness of France his happiness, the riches of France his -wealth. Never did a father with more untiring self-denial and toil -labor for his family, than did Napoleon through days of Herculean -exertion and nights of sleeplessness devote every energy of body and -soul to the greatness of France. He loved not ease, he loved not -personal indulgence, he loved not sensual gratification. The -elevation of France to prosperity, wealth, and power, was a -limitless ambition. The almost supernatural success which had thus -far attended his exertions, did but magnify his desires and -stimulate his hopes. He had no wish to elevate France upon the ruins -of other nations. But he wished to make France the pattern of all -excellence, the illustrious leader, at the head of all nations, -guiding them to intelligence, to opulence, and to happiness. Such, -at this time, was the towering ambition of Napoleon, the most noble -and comprehensive which was ever embraced by the conception of man. -Of course, such ambition was not consistent with the equality of -other nations, for he determined that France should be the first. -But he manifested no disposition to destroy the prosperity of -others; he only wished to give such an impulse to humanity in -France, by the culture of mind, by purity of morals, by domestic -industry, by foreign commerce, by great national works, as to place -France in the advance upon the race course of greatness. In this -race France had but one antagonist--England. France had nearly forty -millions of inhabitants. The island of Great Britain contained but -about fifteen millions. But England, with her colonies, girdled the -globe, and, with her fleets, commanded all seas. "France," said -Napoleon, "must also have her colonies and her fleets." "If we -permit that," the statesmen of England rejoined, "we may become a -secondary power, and may thus be at the mercy of France." It was -undeniably so. Shall history be blind to such fatality as this? Is -man, in the hour of triumphant ambition, so moderate, that we can be -willing that he should attain power which places us at his mercy? -England was omnipotent upon the seas. She became arrogant, and -abused that power, and made herself offensive to all nations. -Napoleon developed no special meekness of character to indicate that -he would be, in the pride of strength which no nation could resist, -more moderate and conciliating. Candor can not censure England for -being unwilling to yield her high position--to surrender her -supremacy on the seas--to become a secondary power--to allow France -to become her master. And who can censure France for seeking the -establishment of colonies, the extension of commerce, friendly -alliance with other nations, and the creation of fleets to protect -her from aggression upon the ocean, as well as upon the land? -Napoleon himself, with that wonderful magnanimity which ever -characterized him, though at times exasperated by the hostility -which he now encountered, yet often spoke in terms of respect of the -influences which animated his foes. It is to be regretted that his -antagonists so seldom reciprocated this magnanimity. There was here, -most certainly, a right and a wrong. But it is not easy for man -accurately to adjust the balance. God alone can award the issue. -The mind is saddened as it wanders amid the labyrinths of -conscientiousness and of passion, of pure motives and of impure -ambition. This is, indeed, a fallen world. The drama of nations is a -tragedy. Melancholy is the lot of man. - -England daily witnessed, with increasing alarm, the rapid and -enormous strides which France was making. The energy of the First -Consul seemed superhuman. His acts indicated the most profound -sagacity, the most far-reaching foresight. To-day the news reaches -London that Napoleon has been elected President of the Italian -Republic. Thus in an hour five millions of people are added to his -empire! To-morrow it is announced that he is establishing a colony -at Elba, that a vast expedition is sailing for St. Domingo, to -re-organize the colony there. England is bewildered. Again it is -proclaimed that Napoleon has purchased Louisiana of Spain, and is -preparing to fill the fertile valley of the Mississippi with -colonists. In the mean time, all France is in a state of activity. -Factories, roads, bridges, canals, fortifications are every where -springing into existence. The sound of the ship hammer reverberates -in all the harbors of France, and every month witnesses the increase -of the French fleet. The mass of the English people contemplate with -admiration this development of energy. The statesmen of England -contemplate it with dread. - -For some months, Napoleon, in the midst of all his other cares, had -been maturing a vast system of public instruction for the youth of -France. He drew up, with his own hand, the plan for their schools, -and proposed the course of study. It is a little singular that, with -his strong scientific predilections, he should have assigned the -first rank to classical studies. Perhaps this is to be accounted for -from his profound admiration of the heroes of antiquity. His own -mind was most thoroughly stored with all the treasures of Greek and -Roman story. All these schools were formed upon a military model, -for, situated as France was, in the midst of monarchies, at heart -hostile, he deemed it necessary that the nation should be -universally trained to bear arms. Religious instruction was to be -communicated in all these schools by chaplains, military instruction -by old officers who had left the army, and classical and scientific -instruction by the most learned men Europe could furnish. The First -Consul also devoted special attention to female schools. "France -needs nothing so much to promote her regeneration," said he, "as -good mothers." To attract the youth of France to these schools, one -million of dollars was appropriated for over six thousand gratuitous -exhibitions for the pupils. Ten schools of law were established, -nine schools of medicine, and an institution for the mechanical -arts, called the "School of Bridges and Roads," the first model of -those schools of art which continue in France until the present day, -and which are deemed invaluable. There were no exclusive privileges -in these institutions. A system of perfect equality pervaded them. -The pupils of all classes were placed upon a level, with an -unobstructed arena before them. "This is only a commencement," said -Napoleon, "by-and-by we shall do more and better." - -Another project which Napoleon now introduced was vehemently -opposed--the establishment of the Legion of Honor. One of the -leading principles of the revolution was the entire overthrow of all -titles of distinction. Every man, high or low, was to be addressed -simply as _Citizen_. Napoleon wished to introduce a system of -rewards which should stimulate to heroic deeds, and which should -ennoble those who had deserved well of humanity. Innumerable -foreigners of distinction had thronged France since the peace. He -had observed with what eagerness the populace had followed these -foreigners, gazing with delight upon their gay decorations. The -court-yard of the Tuileries was ever crowded when these illustrious -strangers arrived and departed. Napoleon, in his council, where he -was always eloquent and powerful, thus urged his views: - -"Look at these vanities, which genius pretends so much to disdain. -The populace is not of that opinion. It loves these many-colored -ribbons, as it loves religious pomp. The democrat philosopher calls -it vanity. Vanity let it be. But that vanity is a weakness common to -the whole human race, and great virtues may be made to spring from -it. With these so much despised baubles heroes are made. There must -be worship for the religious sentiment. There must be visible -distinctions for the noble sentiment of glory. Nations should not -strive to be singular any more than individuals. The affectation of -acting differently from the rest of the world, is an affectation -which is reproved by all persons of sense and modesty. Ribbons are -in use in all countries. Let them be in use in France. It will be -one more friendly relation established with Europe. Our neighbors -give them only to the man of noble birth. I will give them to the -man of merit--to the one who shall have served best in the army or -in the state, or who shall have produced the finest works." - -It was objected that the institution of the Legion of Honor was a -return to the aristocracy which the revolution had abolished. "What -is there aristocratic," Napoleon exclaimed, "in a distinction purely -personal, and merely for life, bestowed on the man who has displayed -merit, whether civil or military--bestowed on him alone, bestowed -for his life only, and not passing to his children. Such a -distinction is the reverse of aristocratic. It is the essence of -aristocracy that its titles are transmitted from the man who has -earned them, to the son who possesses no merit. The ancient regimé, -so battered by the ram of the revolution, is more entire than is -believed. All the emigrants hold each other by the hand. The -Vendeeans are secretly enrolled. The priests, at heart, are not very -friendly to us. With the words 'legitimate king,' thousands might be -roused to arms. It is needful that the men who have taken part in -the revolution should have a bond of union, and cease to depend on -the first accident which might strike one single head. For ten years -we have only been making ruins. We must now found an edifice. Depend -upon it, the struggle is not over with Europe. Be assured that -struggle will begin again." - -It was then urged by some, that the Legion of Honor should be -confined entirely to military merit. "By no means," said Napoleon, -"Rewards are not to be conferred upon soldiers alone. All sorts of -merit are brothers. The courage of the President of the Convention, -resisting the populace, should be compared with the courage of -Kleber, mounting to the assault of Acre. It is right that civil -virtues should have their reward, as well as military virtues. Those -who oppose this course, reason like barbarians. It is the religion -of brute force they commend to us. Intelligence has its rights -before those of force. Force, without intelligence, is nothing. In -barbarous ages, the man of stoutest sinews was the chieftain. Now -the general is the most intelligent of the brave. At Cairo, the -Egyptians could not comprehend how it was that Kleber, with his -majestic form, was not commander-in-chief. When Mourad Bey had -carefully observed our tactics, he could comprehend how it was that -I, and no other, ought to be the general of an army so conducted. -You reason like the Egyptians, when you attempt to confine rewards -to military valor. The soldiers reason better than you. Go to their -bivouacs; listen to them. Do you imagine that it is the tallest of -their officers, and the most imposing by his stature, for whom they -feel the highest regard? Do you imagine even that the bravest stands -first in their esteem? No doubt they would despise the man whose -courage they suspected; but they rank above the merely brave man him -whom they consider the most intelligent. As for myself, do you -suppose that it is solely because I am reputed a great general that -I rule France? No! It is because the qualities of a statesman and a -magistrate are attributed to me. France will never tolerate the -government of the sword. Those who think so are strangely mistaken. -It would require an abject servitude of fifty years before that -could be the case. France is too noble, too intelligent a country to -submit to material power. Let us honor intelligence, virtue, the -civil qualities; in short, let us bestow upon them, in all -professions, the like reward." - -The true spirit of republicanism is certainly equality of rights, -not of attainments and honors; the abolition of hereditary -distinctions and privileges, not of those which are founded upon -merit. The badge of the Legion of Honor was to be conferred upon all -who, by genius, self-denial, and toil, had won renown. The prizes -were open to the humblest peasant in the land. Still the popular -hostility to any institution which bore a resemblance to the -aristocracy of the ancient nobility was so strong, that though a -majority voted in favor of the measure, there was a strong -opposition. Napoleon was surprised. He said to Bourrienne: "You are -right. Prejudices are still against me. I ought to have waited. -There was no occasion for haste in bringing it forward. But the -thing is done; and you will soon find that the taste for these -distinctions is not yet gone by. It is a taste which belongs to the -nature of man. You will see that extraordinary results will arise -from it." - -The order was to consist of six thousand members. It was constituted -in four ranks: grand officers, commanders, officers, and private -legionaries. The badge was simply a red ribbon, in the button-hole. -To the first rank, there was allotted an annual salary of $1000; to -the second, $400; to the third, $200; to the fourth, $50. The -private soldier, the retired scholar, and the skillful artist were -thus decorated with the same badge of distinction which figured upon -the breasts of generals, nobles, and monarchs. That this institution -was peculiarly adapted to the state of France, is evident from the -fact, that it has survived all the revolutions of subsequent years. -"Though of such recent origin," says Thiers, "it is already -consecrated as if it had passed through centuries; to such a degree -has it become the recompense of heroism, of knowledge, of merit of -every kind--so much have its honors been coveted by the grandees and -the princes of Europe the most proud of their origin." - -The popularity of Napoleon was now unbounded. A very general and -earnest disposition was expressed to confer upon the First Consul a -magnificent testimonial of the national gratitude--a testimonial -worthy of the illustrious man who was to receive it, and of the -powerful nation by which it was to be bestowed. The President of the -Tribunal thus addressed that body: "Among all nations public honors -have been decreed to men who, by splendid actions, have honored -their country, and saved it from great dangers. What man ever had -stronger claims to the national gratitude than General Bonaparte? -His valor and genius have saved the French people from the excesses -of anarchy, and from the miseries of war; and France is too great, -too magnanimous to leave such benefits without reward." - -A deputation was immediately chosen to confer with Napoleon upon the -subject of the tribute of gratitude and affection which he should -receive. Surrounded by his colleagues and the principal officers of -the state, he received them the next day in the Tuileries. With -seriousness and modesty he listened to the high eulogium upon his -achievements which was pronounced, and then replied: "I receive -with sincere gratitude the wish expressed by the Tribunate. I desire -no other glory than that of having completely performed the task -imposed upon me. I aspire to no other reward than the affection of -my fellow-citizens. I shall be happy if they are thoroughly -convinced, that the evils which they may experience, will always be -to me the severest of misfortunes; that life is dear to me solely -for the services which I am able to render to my country; that death -itself will have no bitterness for me, if my last looks can see the -happiness of the republic as firmly secured as is its glory." - -[Illustration: RECEPTION AT THE TUILERIES.] - -But how was Napoleon to be rewarded? That was the great and -difficult question. Was wealth to be conferred upon him? For wealth -he cared nothing. Millions had been at his disposal, and he had -emptied them all into the treasury of France. Ease, luxury, -self-indulgence had no charms for him. Were monuments to be reared -to his honor, titles to be lavished upon his name? Napoleon regarded -these but as means for the accomplishment of ends. In themselves -they were nothing. The one only thing which he desired was _power_, -power to work out vast results for others, and thus to secure for -himself renown, which should be pure and imperishable. But how could -the _power_ of Napoleon be increased? He was already almost -absolute. Whatever he willed, he accomplished. Senators, -legislators, and tribunes all co-operated in giving energy to his -plans. It will be remembered, that Napoleon was elected First Consul -for a period of ten years. It seemed that there was absolutely -nothing which could be done, gratifying to the First Consul, but to -prolong the term of his Consulship, by either adding to it another -period of ten years, or by continuing it during his life. "What does -he wish?" was the universal inquiry. Every possible means were -tried, but in vain, to obtain a single word from his lips, -significant of his desires. One of the senators went to Cambaceres, -and said, "What would be gratifying to General Bonaparte? Does he -wish to be king? Only let him say so, and we are all ready to vote -for the re-establishment of royalty. Most willingly will we do it -for him, for he is worthy of that station." But the First Consul -shut himself up in impenetrable reserve. Even his most intimate -friends could catch no glimpse of his secret wishes. At last the -question was plainly and earnestly put to him. With great apparent -humility, he replied: "I have not fixed my mind upon any thing. Any -testimony of the public confidence will be sufficient for me, and -will fill me with satisfaction." The question was then discussed -whether to add ten years to his Consulship, or to make him First -Consul for life. Cambaceres knew well the boundless ambition of -Napoleon, and was fully conscious, that any limited period of power -would not be in accordance with his plans. He ventured to say to -him; "You are wrong not to explain yourself. Your enemies, for -notwithstanding your services, you have some left even in the -Senate, will abuse your reserve." Napoleon calmly replied: "Let them -alone. The majority of the Senate is always ready to do more than it -is asked. They will go further than you imagine." - -On the evening of the 8th of May, 1802, the resolution was adopted, -of prolonging the powers of the First Consul for _ten years_. -Napoleon was probably surprised and disappointed. He, however, -decided to return a grateful answer, and to say that not from the -Senate, but from the suffrages of the people alone could he accept a -prolongation of that power to which their voices had elevated him. -The following answer was transmitted to the Senate, the next -morning: - -"The honorable proof of your esteem, given in your deliberation of -the 8th, will remain forever engraven on my heart. In the three -years which have just elapsed fortune has smiled upon the republic. -But fortune is fickle. How many men whom she has loaded with favors, -have lived a few years too long. The interest of my glory and that -of my happiness, would seem to have marked the term of my public -life, at the moment when the peace of the world is proclaimed. But -the glory and the happiness of the citizen ought to be silent, when -the interest of the state, and the public partiality, call him. You -judge that I owe a new sacrifice to the people. I will make it, if -the wishes of the people command what your suffrage authorizes." - -[Illustration: MALMAISON.] - -Napoleon immediately left Paris for his country-seat at Malmaison. -This beautiful chateau was about ten miles from the metropolis. -Josephine had purchased the peaceful, rural retreat at Napoleon's -request, during his first Italian campaign. Subsequently, large sums -had been expended in enlarging and improving the grounds; and it was -ever the favorite residence of both Napoleon and Josephine. -Cambaceres called an extraordinary meeting of the Council of State. -After much deliberation, it was resolved, by an immense majority, -that the following proposition should be submitted to the people: -"Shall Napoleon Bonaparte be First Consul for life?" It was then -resolved to submit a second question: "Shall the First Consul have -the power of appointing his successor?" This was indeed -re-establishing monarchy, under a republican name. - -Cambaceres immediately repaired to Malmaison, to submit these -resolutions to Napoleon. To the amazement of all, he immediately and -firmly rejected the second question. Energetically, he said: "Whom -would you have me appoint my successor? My brothers? But will -France, which has consented to be governed by me, consent to be -governed by Joseph or Lucien? Shall I nominate you consul, -Cambaceres? You? Dare you undertake such a task? And then the will -of Louis XIV. was not respected; is it likely that mine would be? A -dead man, let him be who he will, is nobody." In opposition to all -urgency, he ordered the second question to be erased, and the first -only to be submitted to the people. It is impossible to divine the -motive which influenced Napoleon in this most unexpected decision. -Some have supposed that even then he had in view the Empire and the -hereditary monarchy, and that he wished to leave a chasm in the -organization of the government, as a reason for future change. -Others have supposed that he dreaded the rivalries which would arise -among his brothers and his nephews, from his having at his disposal -so resplendent a gift as the Empire of France. But the historian -treads upon dangerous ground, when he begins to judge of motives. -That which Napoleon actually _did_ was moderate and noble in the -highest degree. He declined the power of appointing his successor, -and submitted his election to the suffrages of the people. A -majority of 3,568,885 voted for the Consulate for life, and only -eight thousands and a few hundreds, against it. Never before, or -since, was an earthly government established by such unanimity. -Never had a monarch a more indisputable title to his throne. Upon -this occasion Lafayette added to his vote these qualifying words: "I -can not vote for such a magistracy, until public freedom is -sufficiently guaranteed. When that is done, I give my voice to -Napoleon Bonaparte." In a private conversation with the First -Consul, he added: "A free government, and you at its head--that -comprehends all my desires." Napoleon remarked: "In theory Lafayette -is perhaps right. But what is theory? A mere dream, when applied to -the masses of mankind. He thinks he is still in the United -States--as if the French were Americans. He has no conception of -what is required for this country." - -A day was fixed for a grand diplomatic festival, when Napoleon -should receive the congratulations of the constituted authorities, -and of the foreign embassadors. The soldiers, in brilliant uniform, -formed a double line, from the Tuileries to the Luxembourg. The -First Consul was seated in a magnificent chariot, drawn by eight -horses. A cortège of gorgeous splendor accompanied him. All Paris -thronged the streets through which he passed, and the most -enthusiastic applause rent the heavens. To the congratulatory -address of the Senate, Napoleon replied: "The life of a citizen -belongs to his country. The French nation wishes that mine should be -wholly consecrated to France. I obey its will. Through my efforts, -by your assistance, citizen-senators, by the aid of the authorities, -and by the confidence and support of this mighty people, the -liberty, equality, and prosperity of France will be rendered secure -against the caprices of fate, and the uncertainty of futurity. The -most virtuous of nations will be the most happy, as it deserves to -be; and its felicity will contribute to the general happiness of all -Europe. Proud then of being thus called, by the command of that -Power from which every thing emanates, to bring back order, justice, -and equality to the earth, when my last hour approaches, I shall -yield myself up with resignation, and, without any solicitude -respecting the opinions of future generations." - -[Illustration: ELECTION FOR CONSUL FOR LIFE.] - -On the following day the new articles, modifying the constitution in -accordance with the change in the consulship, were submitted to the -Council of State. The First Consul presided, and with his accustomed -vigor and perspicuity, explained the reasons of each article, as he -recounted them one by one. The articles contained the provision that -Napoleon should nominate his successor to the Senate. To this, after -a slight resistance, he yielded. The most profound satisfaction now -pervaded France. Even Josephine began to be tranquil and happy. She -imagined that all thoughts of royalty and of hereditary succession -had now passed away. She contemplated with no uneasiness the power -which Napoleon possessed of choosing his successor. Napoleon -sympathized cordially with her in her high gratification that -Hortense was soon to become a mother. This child was already, in -their hearts, the selected heir to the power of Napoleon. On the -15th of August, Paris magnificently celebrated the anniversary of -the birth-day of the First Consul. This was another introduction of -monarchical usages. All the high authorities of the Church and the -State, and the foreign diplomatic bodies, called upon him with -congratulations. At noon, in all the churches of the metropolis, a -_Te Deum_ was sung, in gratitude to God for the gift of Napoleon. At -night the city blazed with illuminations. The splendors and the -etiquette of royalty were now rapidly introduced; and the same -fickle populace who had so recently trampled princes and thrones -into blood and ruin, were now captivated with the reintroduction of -these discarded splendors. Napoleon soon established himself in the -beautiful chateau of St. Cloud, which he had caused to be repaired -with great magnificence. On the Sabbath the First Consul, with -Josephine, invariably attended divine service. Their example was -soon followed by most of the members of the court, and the nation as -a body returned to Christianity, which, even in its most corrupt -form, saves humanity from those abysses of degradation into which -infidelity plunges it. Immediately after divine service he conversed -in the gallery of the chateau with the visitors who were then -waiting for him. The brilliance of his intellect, and his high -renown, caused him to be approached with emotions of awe. His words -were listened to with intensest eagerness. He was the exclusive -object of observation and attention. No earthly potentate had ever -attained such a degree of homage, pure and sincere, as now circled -around the First Consul. - -Napoleon was very desirous of having his court a model of decorum -and of morals. Lucien owned a beautiful rural mansion near Neuilly. -Upon one occasion he invited Napoleon, and all the inmates of -Malmaison, to attend some private theatricals at his dwelling. -Lucien and Eliza were the performers in a piece called Alzire. The -ardor of their declamation, the freedom of their gestures, and above -all the indelicacy of the costume which they assumed, displeased -Napoleon exceedingly. As soon as the play was over he exclaimed, "It -is a scandal. I ought not to suffer such indecencies. I will give -Lucien to understand that I will have no more of it." As soon as -Lucien entered the saloon, having resumed his usual dress, Napoleon -addressed him before the whole company, and requested him in future -to desist from all such representations. "What!" said he, "when I am -endeavoring to restore purity of manners, my brother and sister must -needs exhibit themselves upon a platform, almost in a state of -nudity! It is an insult!" - -One day at this time Bourrienne, going from Malmaison to Ruel, lost -a beautiful watch. He proclaimed his loss by means of the bellman at -Ruel. An hour after, as he was sitting down to dinner, a peasant boy -brought him the watch, which he had found on the road. Napoleon -heard of the occurrence. Immediately he instituted inquiries -respecting the young man and the family. Hearing a good report of -them, he gave the three brothers employment, and amply rewarded the -honest lad. "Kindness," says Bourrienne, "was a very prominent trait -in the character of Napoleon." - -If we now take a brief review of what Napoleon had accomplished -since his return from Egypt, it must be admitted that the records of -the world are to be searched in vain for a similar recital. No -mortal man before ever accomplished so much, or accomplished it so -well, in so short a time. - -Let us for a moment return to his landing at Frejus on the 8th of -October, 1799, until he was chosen First Consul for life, in August, -1802, a period of not quite three years. Proceeding to Paris, almost -alone, he overthrew the Directory, and seized the supreme power; -restored order into the administration of government, established a -new and very efficient system for the collection of taxes, raised -public credit, and supplied the wants of the suffering army. By -great energy and humanity he immediately terminated the horrors of -that unnatural war which had for years been desolating La Vendee. -Condescending to the attitude of suppliant, he implored of Europe -peace. Europe chose war. By a majestic conception of military -combinations, he sent Moreau with a vast army to the Rhine; -stimulated Massena to the most desperate strife at Genoa, and then, -creating as by magic, an army, from materials which excited but the -ridicule of his foes, he climbed, with artillery and horse, and all -the munitions of war, the icy pinnacles of the Alps, and fell like -an avalanche upon his foes upon the plain of Marengo. With far -inferior numbers, he snatched the victory from the victors; and in -the exultant hour of the most signal conquest, wrote again from the -field of blood imploring peace. His foes, humbled, and at his mercy, -gladly availed themselves of his clemency, and promised to treat. -Perfidiously, they only sought time to regain their strength. He -then sent Moreau to Hohenlinden, and beneath the walls of Vienna -extorted peace with continental Europe. England still prosecuted the -war. The First Consul, by his genius, won the heart of Paul of -Russia, secured the affection of Prussia, Denmark, and Sweden, and -formed a league of all Europe against the Mistress of the Seas. -While engaged in this work, he paid the creditors of the State, -established the Bank of France, overwhelmed the highway robbers with -utter destruction, and restored security in all the provinces; cut -magnificent communications over the Alps, founded hospitals on their -summits, surrounded exposed cities with fortifications, opened -canals, constructed bridges, created magnificent roads, and -commenced the compilation of that civil code which will remain an -ever-during monument of his labors and his genius. In opposition to -the remonstrances of his best friends, he re-established -Christianity, and with it proclaimed perfect liberty of conscience. -Public works were every where established, to encourage industry. -Schools and colleges were founded. Merit of every kind was -stimulated by abundant rewards. Vast improvements were made in -Paris, and the streets cleaned and irrigated. In the midst of all -these cares, he was defending France against the assaults of the -most powerful nation on the globe; and he was preparing, as his last -resort, a vast army, to carry the war into the heart of England. -Notwithstanding the most atrocious libels with which England was -filled against him, his fame shone resplendent through them all, and -he was popular with the English people. Many of the most illustrious -of the English statesmen advocated his cause. His gigantic -adversary, William Pitt, vanquished by the genius of Napoleon, was -compelled to retire from the ministry--and the world was at peace. - -The difficulties, perplexities, embarrassments which were -encountered in these enterprises were infinite. Says Napoleon, with -that magnanimity which history should recognize and applaud, "We are -told that all the First Consul had to look to, was to do justice. -But to whom was he to do justice? To the proprietors whom the -revolution had violently despoiled of their properties, for this -only, that they had been faithful to their legitimate sovereign and -to the principle of honor which they had inherited from their -ancestors; or to those new proprietors, who had purchased these -domains, adventuring their money on the faith of laws flowing from -an illegitimate authority? Was he to do justice to those royalist -soldiers, mutilated in the fields of Germany, La Vendee, and -Quiberon, arrayed under the white standard of the Bourbons, in the -firm belief that they were serving the cause of their king against a -usurping tyranny; or to the million of citizens, who, forming around -the frontiers a wall of brass, had so often saved their country from -the inveterate hostility of its enemies, and had borne to so -transcendent a height the glory of the French eagle? Was he to do -justice to that clergy, the model and the example of every Christian -virtue, stripped of its birthright, the reward of fifteen hundred -years of benevolence; or to the recent acquirers, who had converted -the convents into workshops, the churches into warehouses, and had -turned to profane uses all that had been deemed most holy for ages?" - -"At this period," says Thiers, "Napoleon appeared so moderate, after -having been so victorious, he showed himself so profound a -legislator, after having proved himself so great a commander, he -evinced so much love for the arts of peace, after having excelled in -the arts of war, that well might he excite illusions in France and -in the world. Only some few among the personages who were admitted -to his councils, who were capable of judging futurity by the -present, were filled with as much anxiety as admiration, on -witnessing the indefatigable activity of his mind and body, and the -energy of his will, and the impetuosity of his desires. They -trembled even at seeing him do good, in the way he did--so impatient -was he to accomplish it quickly, and upon an immense scale. The wise -and sagacious Tronchet, who both admired and loved him, and looked -upon him as the saviour of France, said, nevertheless, one day in a -tone of deep feeling to Cambaceres, 'This young man begins like -Cæsar; I fear that he will end like him.'" - -The elevation of Napoleon to the supreme power for life was regarded -by most of the states of continental Europe with satisfaction, as -tending to diminish the dreaded influences of republicanism, and to -assimilate France with the surrounding monarchies. Even in England, -the prime minister, Mr. Addington, assured the French embassador of -the cordial approbation of the British government of an event, -destined to consolidate order and power in France. The King of -Prussia, the Emperor Alexander, and the Archduke Charles of Austria, -sent him their friendly congratulations. Even Catharine, the haughty -Queen of Naples, mother of the Empress of Austria, being then at -Vienna, in ardent expression of her gratification to the French -embassador said, "General Bonaparte is a great man. He has done me -much injury, but that shall not prevent me from acknowledging his -genius. By checking disorder in France, he has rendered a service to -all of Europe. He has attained the government of his country because -he is most worthy of it. I hold him out every day as a pattern to -the young princes of the imperial family. I exhort them to study -that extraordinary personage, to learn from him how to direct -nations, how to make the yoke of authority endurable, by means of -genius and glory." - -But difficulties were rapidly rising between England and France. The -English were much disappointed in not finding that sale of their -manufactures which they had anticipated. The cotton and iron -manufactures were the richest branches of industry in England. -Napoleon, supremely devoted to the development of the manufacturing -resources of France, encouraged those manufactures by the almost -absolute prohibition of the rival articles. William Pitt and his -partisans, still retaining immense influence, regarded with extreme -jealousy the rapid strides which Napoleon was making to power, and -incessantly declaimed, in the journals, against the ambition of -France. Most of the royalist emigrants, who had refused to -acknowledge the new government, and were still devoted to the cause -of the Bourbons, had taken refuge in London. They had been the -allies with England in the long war against France. The English -government could not refrain from sympathizing with them in their -sufferings. It would have been ungenerous not to have done so. The -emigrants were many of them supported by pensions paid them by -England. At the same time they were constantly plotting conspiracies -against the life of Napoleon, and sending assassins to shoot him. "I -will yet teach those Bourbons," said Napoleon, in a moment of -indignation, "that I am not a man to be shot at like a dog." -Napoleon complained bitterly that his enemies, then attempting his -assassination, were in the pay of the British government. Almost -daily the plots of these emigrants were brought to light by the -vigilance of the French police. - -A Bourbon pamphleteer, named Peltier, circulated widely through -England the most atrocious libels against the First Consul, his -wife, her children, his brothers and sisters. They were charged with -the most low, degrading, and revolting vices. These accusations were -circulated widely through England and America. They produced a -profound impression. They were believed. Many were interested in the -circulation of these reports, wishing to destroy the popularity of -Napoleon, and to prepare the populace of England for the renewal of -the war. Napoleon remonstrated against such infamous representations -of his character being allowed in England. But he was informed that -the British press was free; that there was no resource but to -prosecute for libel in the British courts; and that it was the part -of true greatness to treat such slanders with contempt. But Napoleon -felt that such false charges were exasperating nations, were paving -the way to deluge Europe again in war, and that causes tending to -such woes were too potent to be despised. - -The Algerines were now sweeping with their piratic crafts the -Mediterranean, exacting tribute from all Christian powers. A French -ship had been wrecked upon the coast, and the crew were made -prisoners. Two French vessels and a Neapolitan ship had also been -captured and taken to Algiers. The indignation of Napoleon was -aroused. He sent an officer to the Dey with a letter, informing him -that if the prisoners were not released and the captured vessels -instantly restored, and a promise given to respect in future the -flags of France and Italy, he would send a fleet and an army and -overwhelm him with ruin. The Dey had heard of Napoleon's career in -Egypt. He was thoroughly frightened, restored the ships and the -prisoners, implored clemency, and with barbarian injustice doomed to -death those who had captured the ships in obedience to his commands. -Their lives were saved only through the intercession of the French -minister. Napoleon then performed one of the most gracious acts of -courtesy toward the Pope. The feeble monarch had no means of -protecting his coasts from the pirates who still swarmed in those -seas. Napoleon selected two fine brigs in the naval arsenal at -Toulon, equipped them with great elegance, armed them most -effectively, filled them with naval stores, and conferring upon them -the apostolical names of St. Peter and St. Paul, sent them as a -present to the Pontiff. With characteristic grandeur of action, he -carried his attentions so far as to send a cutter to bring back the -crews, that the papal treasury might be exposed to no expense. The -venerable Pope, in the exuberance of his gratitude, insisted upon -taking the French seamen to Rome. He treated them with every -attention in his power; exhibited to them St. Peter's, and dazzled -them with the pomp and splendor of cathedral worship. They returned -to France loaded with humble presents, and exceedingly gratified -with the kindness with which they had been received. - -It was stipulated in the treaty of Amiens, that both England and -France should evacuate Egypt, and that England should surrender Malta -to its ancient rulers. Malta, impregnable in its fortifications, -commanded the Mediterranean, and was the key of Egypt. Napoleon had -therefore, while he professed a willingness to relinquish all claim to -the island himself, insisted upon it, as an essential point, that -England should do the same. The question upon which the treaty hinged, -was the surrender of Malta to a neutral power. The treaty was signed. -Napoleon promptly and scrupulously fulfilled his agreements. Several -embarrassments, for which England was not responsible, delayed for a -few months the evacuation of Malta. But now nearly a year had passed -since the signing of the treaty. All obstacles were removed from the -way of its entire fulfillment, and yet the troops of England remained -both in Egypt and in Malta. The question was seriously discussed in -Parliament and in the English journals, whether England were bound to -fulfill her engagements, since France was growing so alarmingly -powerful. Generously and eloquently Fox exclaimed, "I am astonished at -all I hear, particularly when I consider who they are that speak such -words. Indeed I am more grieved than any of the honorable friends and -colleagues of Mr. Pitt, at the growing greatness of France, which is -daily extending her power in Europe and in America. That France, now -accused of interfering with the concerns of others, we invaded, for -the purpose of forcing upon her a government to which she would not -submit, and of obliging her to accept the family of the Bourbons, -whose yoke she spurned. By one of those sublime movements, which -history should recommend to imitation, and preserve in eternal -memorial, she repelled her invaders. Though warmly attached to the -cause of England, we have felt an involuntary movement of sympathy -with that generous outburst of liberty, and we have no desire to -conceal it. No doubt France is great, much greater than a good -Englishman ought to wish, but that ought not to be a motive for -violating solemn treaties. But because France now appears too great to -us--greater than we thought her at first--to break a solemn -engagement, to retain Malta, for instance, would be an unworthy breach -of faith, which would compromise the honor of Britain. I am sure that -if there were in Paris an assembly similar to that which is debating -here, the British navy and its dominion over the seas would be talked -of, in the same terms as we talk in this house of the French armies, -and their dominion over the land." - -Napoleon sincerely wished for peace. He was constructing vast works -to embellish and improve the empire. Thousands of workmen were -employed in cutting magnificent roads across the Alps. He was -watching with intensest interest the growth of fortifications and -the excavation of canals. He was in the possession of absolute -power, was surrounded by universal admiration, and, in the enjoyment -of profound peace, was congratulating himself upon being the -pacificator of Europe. He had disbanded his armies, and was -consecrating all the resources of the nation to the stimulation of -industry. He therefore left no means of forbearance and conciliation -untried to avert the calamities of war. He received Lord Whitworth, -the English embassador in Paris, with great distinction. The most -delicate attentions were paid to his lady, the Duchess of Dorset. -Splendid entertainments were given at the Tuileries and at St. Cloud -in their honor. Talleyrand consecrated to them all the resources of -his courtly and elegant manners. The two Associate Consuls, -Cambaceres and Lebrun, were also unwearied in attentions. Still all -these efforts on the part of Napoleon to secure friendly relations -with England were unavailing. The British government still, in open -violation of the treaty, retained Malta. The honor of France was at -stake in enforcing the sacredness of treaties. Malta was too -important a post to be left in the hands of England. Napoleon at -last resolved to have a personal interview himself with Lord -Whitworth, and to explain to him, with all frankness, his sentiments -and his resolves. - -[Illustration: NAPOLEON AND THE BRITISH EMBASSADOR.] - -It was on the evening of the 18th of February, 1803, that Napoleon -received Lord Whitworth in his cabinet in the Tuileries. A large -writing-table occupied the middle of the room. Napoleon invited the -embassador to take a seat at one end of the table, and seated -himself at the other. "I have wished," said he, "to converse with -you in person, that I may fully convince you of my real opinions and -intentions." Then with that force of language and that perspicuity -which no man ever excelled, he recapitulated his transactions with -England from the beginning; that he had offered peace immediately -upon his accession to the consulship; that peace had been refused; -that eagerly he had renewed negotiations as soon as he could with -any propriety do so; and that he had made great concessions to -secure the peace of Amiens. "But my efforts," said he, "to live on -good terms with England, have met with no friendly response. The -English newspapers breathe but animosity against me. The journals of -the emigrants are allowed a license of abuse which is not justified -by the British constitution. Pensions are granted to Georges and his -accomplices, who are plotting my assassination. The emigrants, -protected in England, are continually making excursions to France to -stir up civil war. The Bourbon princes are received with the -insignia of the ancient royalty. Agents are sent to Switzerland and -Italy to raise up difficulties against France. Every wind which -blows from England brings me but hatred and insult. Now we have come -to a situation from which we must relieve ourselves. Will you or -will you not execute the treaty of Amiens? I have executed it on my -part with scrupulous fidelity. That treaty obliged me to evacuate -Naples, Tarento, and the Roman States, within three months. In less -than two months, all the French troops were out of those countries. -Ten months have elapsed since the exchange of the ratifications, and -the English troops are still in Malta, and at Alexandria. It is -useless to try to deceive us on this point. Will you have peace, or -will you have war? If you are for war, only say so; we will wage it -unrelentingly. If you wish for peace, you must evacuate Alexandria -and Malta. The rock of Malta, on which so many fortifications have -been erected, is, in a maritime point of view, an object of great -importance; but, in my estimation, it has an importance infinitely -greater, inasmuch as it implicates the honor of France. What would -the world say, if we were to allow a solemn treaty, signed with us, -to be violated? It would doubt our energy. For my part, my -resolution is fixed. I had rather see you in possession of the -Heights of Montmartre, than in possession of Malta." - -"If you doubt my desire to preserve peace, listen, and judge how far -I am sincere. Though yet very young, I have attained a power, a -renown to which it would be difficult to add. Do you imagine that I -am solicitous to risk this power, this renown, in a desperate -struggle? If I have a war with Austria, I shall contrive to find the -way to Vienna. If I have a war with you, I will take from you every -ally upon the Continent. You will blockade us; but I will blockade -you in my turn. You will make the Continent a prison for us; but I -will make the seas a prison for you. However, to conclude the war, -there must be more direct efficiency. There must be assembled -150,000 men, and an immense flotilla. We must try to cross the -Strait, and perhaps I shall bury in the depths of the sea my -fortune, my glory, my life. It is an awful temerity, my lord, the -invasion of England." Here, to the amazement of Lord Whitworth, -Napoleon enumerated frankly and powerfully all the perils of the -enterprise: the enormous preparations it would be necessary to make -of ships, men, and munitions of war--the difficulty of eluding the -English fleet. "The chance that we shall perish," said he, "is -vastly greater than the chance that we shall succeed. Yet this -temerity, my lord, awful as it is, I am determined to hazard, if you -force me to it. I will risk my army and my life. With me that great -enterprise will have chances which it can not have with any other. -See now if I ought, prosperous, powerful, and peaceful as I now am, -to risk power, prosperity, and peace in such an enterprise. Judge, -if when I say I am desirous of peace, if I am not sincere. It is -better for you; it is better for me to keep within the limits of -treaties. You must evacuate Malta. You must not harbor my assassins -in England. Let me be abused, if you please, by the English -journals, but not by those miserable emigrants, who dishonor the -protection you grant them, and whom the Alien Act permits you to -expel from the country. Act cordially with me, and I promise you, on -my part, an entire cordiality. See what power we should exercise -over the world, if we could bring our two nations together. You have -a navy, which, with the incessant efforts of ten years, in the -employment of all my resources, I should not be able to equal. But I -have 500,000 men ready to march, under my command, whithersoever I -choose to lead them. If you are masters of the seas, I am master of -the land. Let us then think of uniting, rather than of going to war, -and we shall rule at pleasure the destinies of the world. France and -England united, can do every thing for the interests of humanity." - -England, however, still refused, upon one pretense and another, to -yield Malta; and both parties were growing more and more -exasperated, and were gradually preparing for the renewal of -hostilities. Napoleon, at times, gave very free utterance to his -indignation. "Malta," said he, "gives the dominion of the -Mediterranean. Nobody will believe that I consent to surrender the -Mediterranean to the English, unless I fear their power. I thus -loose the most important sea in the world, and the respect of -Europe. I will fight to the last, for the possession of the -Mediterranean; and if I once get to Dover, it is all over with those -tyrants of the seas. Besides, as we must fight, sooner or later, -with a people to whom the greatness of France is intolerable, the -sooner the better. I am young. The English are in the wrong; more so -than they will ever be again. I had rather settle the matter at -once. They shall not have Malta." - -Still Napoleon assented to the proposal for negotiating with the -English for the cession of some other island in the Mediterranean. -"Let them obtain a port to put into," said he. "To that I have no -objection. But I am determined that they shall not have two -Gibraltars in that sea: one at the entrance, and one in the middle." -To this proposition, however, England refused assent. - -Napoleon then proposed that the Island of Malta should be placed in -the hands of the Emperor of Russia; leaving it with him in trust, -till the discussions between France and England were decided. It had -so happened that the emperor had just offered his mediation, if that -could be available, to prevent a war. This the English government -also declined, upon the plea that it did not think that Russia would -be willing to accept the office thus imposed upon her. The English -embassador now received instructions to demand that France should -cede to England, Malta for ten years; and that England, by way of -compensation, would recognize the Italian republic. The embassador -was ordered to apply for his passports, if these conditions were not -accepted within seven days. To this proposition France would not -accede. The English minister demanded his passports, and left -France. Immediately the English fleet commenced its attack upon -French merchant-ships, wherever they could be found. And the world -was again deluged in war. - -[Illustration: SEA COMBAT.] - - - - -THE PALACES OF FRANCE. - -BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT. - - -France has recorded her past history and her present condition, in -the regal palaces she has reared. Upon these monumental walls are -inscribed, in letters more legible than the hieroglyphics of Egypt, -and as ineffaceable, the long and dreary story of kingly vice, -voluptuousness and pride, and of popular servility and oppression. -The unthinking tourist saunters through these magnificent saloons, -upon which have been lavished the wealth of princes and the toil of -ages, and admires their gorgeous grandeur. In marbled floors and -gilded ceilings and damask tapestry, and all the appliances of -boundless luxury and opulence, he sees but the triumphs of art, and -bewildered by the dazzling spectacle, forgets the burning outrage -upon human rights which it proclaims. Half-entranced, he wanders -through uncounted acres of groves and lawns, and parterres of -flowers, embellished with lakes, fountains, cascades, and the most -voluptuous statuary, where kings and queens have reveled, and he -reflects not upon the millions who have toiled, from dewy morn till -the shades of night, through long and joyless years, eating black -bread, clothed in coarse raiment--the man, the woman, the ox, -companions in toil, companions in thought--to minister to this -indulgence. But the palaces of France proclaim, in trumpet tones, -the shame of France. They say to her kings, Behold the undeniable -monuments of your pride, your insatiate extortion, your measureless -extravagance and luxury. They say to the people, Behold the proofs -of the outrages which your fathers, for countless ages, have -endured. They lived in mud hovels that their licentious kings might -riot haughtily in the apartments, canopied with gold, of Versailles, -the Tuileries, and St. Cloud--the Palaces of France. The mind of the -political economist lingers painfully upon them. They are gorgeous -as specimens of art. They are sacred as memorials of the past. -Vandalism alone would raze them to their foundations. Still, the -_judgment_ says, It would be better for the political regeneration -of France, if, like the Bastile, their very foundations were plowed -up, and sown with salt. For they are a perpetual provocative to -every thinking man. They excite unceasingly democratic rage against -aristocratic arrogance. Thousands of noble women, as they traverse -those gorgeous halls, feel those fires of indignation glowing in -their souls, which glowed in the bosom of Madame Roland. Thousands -of young men, with compressed lip and moistened eye, lean against -those marble pillars, lost in thought, and almost excuse even the -demoniac and blood-thirsty mercilessness of Danton, Marat, and -Robespierre. These palaces are a perpetual stimulus and provocative -to governmental aggression. There they stand, in all their -gorgeousness, empty, swept, and garnished. They are resplendently -beautiful. They are supplied with every convenience, every luxury. -King and Emperor dwelt there. Why should not the _President_? Hence -the palace becomes the home of the Republican President. The -expenses of the palace, the retinue of the palace, the court -etiquette of the palace become the requisitions of good taste. In -America, the head of the government, in his convenient and -appropriate mansion, receives a salary of twenty-five thousand -dollars a year. In France, the President of the Republic receives -four hundred thousand dollars a year, and yet, even with that vast -sum, can not keep up an establishment at all in accordance with the -dwellings of grandeur which invite his occupancy, and which -unceasingly and irresistibly stimulate to regal pomp and to regal -extravagance. The palaces of France have a vast influence upon the -present politics of France. There is an unceasing conflict between -those marble walls of monarchical splendor, and the principles of -republican simplicity. This contest will not soon terminate, and its -result no one can foresee. Never have I felt my indignation more -thoroughly aroused than when wandering hour after hour through the -voluptuous sumptuousness of Versailles. The triumphs of taste and -art are admirable, beyond the power of the pen to describe. But the -moral of execrable oppression is deeply inscribed upon all. In a -brief description of the Palaces of France, I shall present them in -the order in which I chanced to visit them. - -1. _Palais des Thermes._--In long-gone centuries, which have faded -away into oblivion, a wandering tribe of barbarians alighted from -their canoes, upon a small island in the Seine, and there reared -their huts. They were called the Parisii. The slow lapse of -centuries rolled over them, and there were wars and woes, bridals -and burials, and still they increased in numbers and in strength, -and fortified their little isle against the invasions of their -enemies; for man, whether civilized or savage, has ever been the -most ferocious wild beast man has had to encounter. But soon the -tramp of the Roman legions was heard upon the banks of the Seine, -and all Gaul, with its sixty tribes, came under the power of the -Cæsars. Extensive marshes and gloomy forests surrounded the -barbarian village; but, gradually, Roman laws and institutions were -introduced; and Roman energy changed the aspect of the country. -Immediately the proud conquerors commenced rearing a palace for the -provincial governor. The Palace of Warm Baths rose, with its massive -walls, and in imposing grandeur. Roman spears drove the people to -the work; and Roman ingenuity knew well how to extort from the -populace the revenue which was required. Large remains of that -palace continue to the present day. It is the most interesting -memorial of the past which can now be found in France. The -magnificence of its proportions still strike the beholder with awe. -"Behold," says a writer, who trod its marble floors nearly a -thousand years ago: "Behold the Palace of the Kings, whose turrets -pierce the skies, and whose foundations penetrate even to the empire -of the dead." Julius Cæsar gazed proudly upon those turrets; and -here the shouts of Roman legions, fifteen hundred years ago, -proclaimed Julian emperor; and Roman maidens, with throbbing hearts, -trod these floors in the mazy dance. No one can enter the grand hall -of the baths, without being deeply impressed with the majestic -aspect of the edifice, and with the grandeur of its gigantic -proportions. The decay of nearly two thousand years has left its -venerable impress upon those walls. Here Roman generals proudly -strode, encased in brass and steel, and the clatter of their arms -resounded through these arches. In these mouldering, crumbling tubs -of stone, they laved their sinewy limbs. But where are those fierce -warriors now? In what employments have their turbulent spirits been -engaged, while generation after generation has passed on earth, in -the enactment of the comedies and the tragedies of life? Did their -rough tutelage in the camp, and their proud bearing in the court, -prepare them for the love, the kindness, the gentleness, the -devotion of Heaven? In fields of outrage, clamor, and blood, madly -rushing to the assault, shouting in frenzy, dealing, with iron hand, -every where around, destruction and death, did they acquire a taste -for the "green pastures and the still waters?" Alas! for the mystery -of our being! They are gone, and gone forever! Their name has -perished--their language is forgotten. - - "The storm which wrecks the wintry sky, - No more disturbs their deep repose, - Than summer evening's gentlest sigh, - Which shuts the rose." - -Upon a part of the ruins of this old palace of the Cæsars, there has -been reared, by more _modern ancients_, still another palace, where -mirth and revelry have resounded, where pride has elevated her -haughty head, and vanity displayed her costly robes--but over all -those scenes of splendor, death has rolled its oblivious waves. -About four hundred years ago, upon a portion of the crumbling walls -of this old Roman mansion, the Palace of Cluny was reared. For three -centuries, this palace was one of the abodes of the kings of France. -The tide of regal life ebbed and flowed through those saloons, and -along those corridors. There is the chamber where Mary of England, -sister of Henry VIII., and widow of Louis XII., passed the weary -years of her widowhood. It is still called the chamber of the "white -queen," from the custom of the queens of France to wear white -mourning. Three hundred years ago, these Gothic turrets, and -gorgeously ornamented lucarne windows, gleamed with illuminations, -as the young King of Scotland, James V., led Madeleine, the blooming -daughter of Francis I., to the bridal altar. Here the haughty family -of the Guises ostentatiously displayed their regal retinue--vying -with the kings of France in splendor, and outvying them in power. -These two palaces, now blended by the nuptials of decay into one, -are converted into a museum of antiquities--silent depositories of -memorials of the dead. Sadly one loiters through their deserted -halls. They present one of the most interesting sights of Paris. In -the reflective mind they awaken emotions which the pen can not -describe. - -2. _The Louvre._--When Paris consisted only of the little island in -the Seine, and kings and feudal lords, with wine and wassail were -reveling in the saloons of Cluny, a hunting-seat was reared in the -dense forest which spread itself along the banks of the river. As -the city extended, and the forest disappeared, the hunting-seat was -enlarged, strengthened, and became a fortress and a state-prison. -Thus it continued for three hundred years. In its gloomy dungeons -prisoners of state, and the victims of crime, groaned and died; and -countless tragedies of despotic power there transpired, which the -Day of Judgment alone can reveal. Three hundred years ago, Francis -I. tore down the dilapidated walls of this old castle, and commenced -the magnificent Palace of the Louvre upon their foundations. But its -construction has required the labor of ages, and upon it has been -expended millions, which despotic power has extorted from the hard -hands of penury. This gorgeous palace contains a wilderness of -saloons and corridors, and flights of stairs; and seems rather -adapted to accommodate the population of a city, than to be merely -one of the residences of a royal family. The visitor wanders -bewildered through its boundless magnificence. The spirits of the -dead rise again, and people these halls. Here the pure and the noble -Jeanne d'Albret was received in courtly grandeur, by the impure and -the ignoble Catherine de Medici. Here Henry IV. led his profligate -and shameless bride to the altar. From this window Charles IX. shot -down the Protestants as they fled, amidst the horrors of the -perfidious massacre of St. Bartholomew. In this gilded chamber, with -its lofty ceiling and its tapestried walls, Catherine de Medici died -in the glooms of remorse and despair. Her bed of down, her despotic -power could present no refuge against the King of Terrors; and the -mind is appalled with the thought, that from this very room, now so -silent and deserted, her guilty spirit took its flight to the -tribunal of the King of kings, and the Lord of lords. Successive -generations of haughty sovereigns have here risen and died. And if -there be any truth in history, they have been, almost without -exception, proud, merciless, licentious oppressors. The orgies of -sin have filled this palace. Defiance to God and man has here held -its high carnival. - -[Illustration: THE LOUVRE.] - -The mind is indeed bewildered with a flood of emotions rushing -through it, as one is pointed to the alcove where Henry IV. was -accustomed to sleep three hundred years ago, and to the very spot -where, in anguish, he gasped and died, after having been stabbed by -Ravaillac. Here one sees the very helmet worn by Henry II. on that -unfortunate day, when the tilting spear of the Count of Montgommeri, -entering his eye, pierced his brain. It requires the labor of a day -even to saunter through the innumerable rooms of this magnificent -abode. But it will never again resound with the revelries of kings -and queens. Royalty has forsaken it forever. Democracy has now taken -strange and anomalous possession of its walls. It is converted into -the most splendid museum in the world--filled with the richest -productions of ancient and modern art. The people now enter freely -that sanctuary, where once none but kings and courtiers ventured to -appear. The Louvre now is useful to the world; but upon its massive -walls are registered deeds of violence, oppression, and crime which -make the ear to tingle. - -[Illustration: THE INNER COURT OF THE LOUVRE.] - -3. _Malmaison._--When Napoleon was in the midst of his Egyptian -campaign, he wrote to Josephine, to purchase somewhere in the -vicinity of Paris, a pleasant rural retreat, to which they could -retire from the bustle of the metropolis, and enjoy the luxury of -green fields and shady groves. Josephine soon found a delightful -chateau, about nine miles from Paris, and five from Versailles, -which she purchased, with many acres of land around it, for about -one hundred thousand dollars. The great value of the place was in -the spacious and beautiful grounds, not in the buildings. The -chateau itself was plain, substantial, simple, far less ostentatious -in its appearance than many a country-seat erected upon the banks of -the Hudson, or in the environs of Boston. Here Josephine resided -most of the time during the eighteen months of Napoleon's absence in -Egypt. Upon Napoleon's return, this became the favorite residence of -them both. Amid all the splendors of the Empire, it was ever their -great joy to escape to the rural quietude of Malmaison. There they -often passed the Sabbath, in the comparative happiness of private -life. Often Napoleon said, as he left those loved haunts, to attend -to the cares and toils of the Tuileries, "Now I must again put on -the yoke of misery." Napoleon ever spoke of the hours passed at -Malmaison, as the happiest of his life. He erected for himself -there, in a retired grove, a little pavilion, very simple, yet -beautiful, in its structure, which still retains the name of the -Pavilion of the Emperor. Here he passed many hours of uninterrupted -solitude, in profound study of his majestic plans and enterprises. -Directly behind the chateau there was a smooth and beautiful lawn, -upon a level with the ground floor of the main saloon. The windows, -extending to the floor, opened upon this lawn. When all the kings of -Europe were doing homage to the mighty emperor, crowds of visitors -were often assembled at Malmaison; and upon this lawn, with the -characteristic gayety of the French, many mirthful games were -enacted. The favorite amusement here was the game of prisoners. -Frequently, after dinner, the most distinguished gentlemen and -ladies, not of France only, but of all Europe, were actively and -mirthfully engaged in this sport. Kings and queens, and princes of -the blood royal were seen upon the green esplanade, pursuing and -pursued. Napoleon occasionally joined in the sport. He was a poor -runner, and not unfrequently fell and rolled over upon the grass, -while he and his companions were convulsed with laughter. Josephine, -fond of deeds of benevolence, loved to visit the cottages in the -vicinity of Malmaison; and her sympathy and kindness gave her -enthronement in the hearts of all their inmates. After the divorce -of Josephine, the Palace of Malmaison, which Napoleon had -embellished with all those attractions which he thought could soothe -the anguish of his wounded, weeping, discarded wife, was assigned to -Josephine. A jointure of six hundred thousand dollars a year was -settled upon her, and she retained the title and the rank of Empress -Queen. Here Napoleon frequently called to see her; though from -motives of delicacy, he never saw her alone. Taking her arm, he -would walk for hours through those embowered avenues, confiding to -her all his plans. - -Just before Napoleon set out for his fatal campaign to Russia, he -called to see Josephine. Taking her hand, he led her out to a -circular seat in the garden, in front of the mansion, and for two -hours continued engaged with her in the most earnest conversation. -At last he rose and affectionately kissed her hand. She followed him -to his carriage and bade him adieu. This was their last interview -but one. He soon returned a fugitive from Moscow. All Europe was in -arms against him. He earnestly sought a hurried interview with the -faithful wife of his youth in her retreat at Malmaison. As he gazed -upon her beloved features, tenderly and sadly he exclaimed, -"Josephine! I have been as fortunate as was ever man upon the face -of this earth. But in this hour, when a storm is gathering over my -head, I have not any one in this wide world but you upon whom I can -repose." With a moistened eye he bade her farewell. They met not -again. - -When the allied armies entered Paris a guard was sent, out of -respect to Josephine, to protect Malmaison. The Emperor Alexander, -with a number of illustrious guests, dined with the Empress Queen, -and in the evening walked out upon the beautiful lawn. Josephine, -whose health was shattered by sympathy and sorrow, took cold, and -after the illness of a few days died. It was the 29th of May, 1814. -It was the serene and cloudless evening of a tranquil summer's day. -The windows of the apartment were open where the Empress was dying. -The sun was silently sinking behind the trees of Malmaison, and its -rays, struggling through the foliage, shone cheerfully upon the bed -of death. The air was filled with the songs of birds, warbling, as -it were, the vespers of Josephine's most eventful life. Thus sweetly -her gentle spirit sank into its last sleep. In the antique village -church of Ruel, about two miles from Malmaison, the mortal remains -of this most lovely of women now slumber. A beautiful monument of -white marble, with a statue representing the Empress kneeling in -her coronation robes, is erected over her burial place, with this -simple but affecting inscription: - - TO - JOSEPHINE, - BY - EUGENE AND HORTENSE. - -It was a bright and beautiful morning when I took a carriage, with a -friend, and set out from Paris to visit Malmaison. We had been -informed that the property had passed into the hands of Christina, -the Queen-Mother of Spain, and that she had given strict injunctions -that no visitors should be admitted to the grounds. My great desire, -however, to visit Malmaison induced me to make special efforts to -accomplish the object. A recent rain had laid the dust, the trees -were in full leaf, the grass was green and rich, the grain was -waving in the wind, and the highly cultivated landscape surrounding -Paris presented an aspect of extraordinary beauty. We rode quietly -along, enjoying the luxury of the emotions which the scene inspired, -till we came to the village of Ruel. A French village has no aspect -of beauty. It is merely the narrow street of a city set down by -itself in the country. The street is paved, the cheerless, tasteless -houses are huddled as closely as possible together. There is no yard -for shrubbery and flowers, apparently no garden, no barn-yards with -lowing herds. The flowers of the empire have been garnered in the -palaces of the kings. The taste of the empire has been concentrated -upon the Tuileries, Versailles, St. Cloud, Fontainebleau, and none -has been left to embellish the home of the peasant. The man who -tills the field must toil day and night, with his wife, his -daughter, and his donkey, to obtain food and clothing for his -family, as animals. This centralization of taste and opulence in -particular localities, is one of the greatest of national mistakes -and wrongs. America has no Versailles. May God grant that she never -may have. But thousands of American farmers have homes where poets -would love to dwell. Their daughters trim the shrubbery in the yard, -and cultivate the rose, and partake themselves of the purity and the -refinement of the rural scenes in the midst of which they are -reared. In the village of Ruel, so unattractive to one accustomed to -the rich beauty of New England towns, we found the church, an old, -cracked, mouldering and crumbling stone edifice, built five hundred -years ago. It was picturesque in its aspect, venerable from its -historical associations, and as poorly adapted as can well be -imagined for any purposes to which we in America appropriate our -churches. The floor was of crumbling stone, worn by the footfalls of -five centuries. There were enormous pillars supporting the roof, -alcoves running in here and there, a pulpit stuck like the mud nest -of a swallow upon a rock. The village priest was there catechising -the children. A large number of straight-backed, rush-bottomed -chairs were scattered about in confusion, instead of pews. These old -Gothic churches, built in a semi-barbarian age, and adapted to a -style of worship in which the pomp of paganism and a corrupted -Christianity were blended, are to my mind gloomy memorials of days -of darkness. Visions of hooded monks, of deluded penitents, of -ignorant, joyless generations toiling painfully through them to the -grave, impress and oppress the spirit. In one corner of the church, -occupying a space some twenty feet square, we saw the beautiful -monument reared by Eugene and Hortense to their mother. It was -indeed a privilege to stand by the grave of Josephine; there to -meditate upon life's vicissitudes, there to breathe the prayer for -preparation for that world of spirits to which Josephine has gone. -How faithful her earthly love; how affecting her dying prayer! -clasping the miniature of the Emperor fervently to her bosom, she -exclaimed, "O God! watch over Napoleon while he remains in the -desert of this world. Alas! though he hath committed great faults, -hath he not expiated them by great sufferings? Just God, thou hast -looked into his heart, and hast seen by how ardent a desire for -useful and durable improvements he was animated! Deign to approve my -last petition. And may this image of my husband bear me witness that -my latest wish and my latest prayer were for him and for my -children." - -As the Emperor Alexander gazed upon her lifeless remains, he -exclaimed, "She is no more; that woman whom France named the -Beneficent; that angel of goodness is no more. Those who have known -Josephine can never forget her. She dies regretted by her offspring, -her friends, and her contemporaries." - -In the same church, opposite to the tomb of Josephine, stands the -monument of her daughter Hortense. Her life was another of those -tragedies of which this world has been so full. Her son, the present -President of France, has reared to her memory a tasteful monument of -various colored marble, emblematic, as it were, of the vicissitudes -of her eventful life. The monument bears the inscription--"To Queen -Hortense, by Prince Louis Bonaparte." She is represented kneeling in -sorrowful meditation. As I stood by their silent monuments, and -thought of the bodies mouldering to dust beneath them, the beautiful -lines of Kirke White rose most forcibly to my mind: - - "Life's labor done, securely laid - In this their last retreat, - Unheeded o'er their silent dust - The storms of life shall beat." - -From Ruel we rode slowly along, through vineyards and fields of -grain, with neither hedges nor fences to obstruct the view, for -about two miles, when we arrived at the stone wall and iron -entrance-gate of the chateau of Malmaison. The concierge, a -pleasant-looking woman, came from the porter's lodge, and looking -through the bars of the gate very politely and kindly told us that -we could not be admitted. I gave her my passport, my card, and a -copy of the Life of Josephine, which I had written in America, and -requested her to take them to the head man of the establishment, -and to say to him that I had written the life of Josephine, and that -I had come to France to visit localities which had been made -memorable by Napoleon and Josephine, and that I was exceedingly -desirous to see Malmaison. The good woman most obligingly took my -parcel, and tripping away as lightly as a girl, disappeared in the -windings of the well-graveled avenue, skirted with trees and -shrubbery. In about ten minutes she returned, and smiling and -shaking her head, said that the orders were positive, and that we -could not be admitted. I then wrote a note to the keeper, in French, -which I fear was not very classical, informing him "that I was -writing the life of Napoleon; that it was a matter of great -importance that I should see Malmaison, his favorite residence; that -I had recently been favored with a private audience with the Prince -President, and that he had assured me that he would do every thing -in his power to facilitate my investigations, and that he would give -me free access to all sources of information. But that as I knew the -chateau belonged to the Queen of Spain, I had made no efforts to -obtain from the French authorities a ticket of admission." Then for -the first time I reflected that the proper course for me to have -pursued was to have called upon the Spanish embassador, a very -gentlemanly and obliging man, who would unquestionably have removed -every obstacle from my way. Giving the good woman a franc to quicken -her steps, again she disappeared, and after a considerable lapse of -time came back, accompanied by the keeper. He was a plain, -pleasant-looking man, and instead of addressing me with that angry -rebuff, which, in all probability in America one, under similar -circumstances, would have encountered, he politely touched his hat, -and begged that I would not consider his refusal as caprice in him, -but that the Queen of Spain did not allow any visitors to enter the -grounds of Malmaison. The French are so polite, that an American is -often mortified by the consciousness of his own want of -corresponding courtesy. Assuming, however, all the little suavity at -my command, I very politely touched my hat, and said: "My dear sir, -is it not rather a hard case? I have crossed three thousand miles of -stormy ocean to see Malmaison. Here I am at the very gate of the -park, and these iron bars won't let me in." The kind-hearted man -hesitated for a moment, looked down upon the ground as if deeply -thinking, and then said, "Let me see your passports again, if you -please." My companion eagerly drew out his passport, and pointed to -the cabalistic words--"Bearer of dispatches." Whether this were the -talisman which at last touched the heart of our friend I know not, -but suddenly relenting he exclaimed, with a good-natured smile, "Eh -bien! Messieurs, entrez, entrez," and rolling the iron gate back -upon its hinges, we found ourselves in the enchanting park of -Malmaison. - -Passing along a beautiful serpentine avenue, embowered in trees and -shrubbery, and presenting a scene of very attractive rural beauty, -we came in sight of the plain, comfortable home-like chateau. A -pleasant garden, smiling with flowers, bloomed in solitude before -the windows of the saloon, and a statue of Napoleon, in his familiar -form, was standing silently there. An indescribable air of -loneliness and yet of loveliness was spread over the scene. It was -one of the most lovely of May days. Nearly all the voices of nature -are pensive; the sighing of the zephyr and the wailing of the -tempest, the trickling of the rill and the roar of the ocean, the -vesper of the robin and the midnight cry of the wild beast in his -lair. Nature this morning and in this scene displayed her mood of -most plaintive pathos. There was Napoleon, standing in solitude in -the garden. All was silence around him. The chateau was empty and -deserted. Josephine and Hortense were mouldering to dust in the damp -tombs of Ruel. The passing breeze rustled the leaves of the forest, -and the birds with gushes of melody sung their touching requiems. -Shall I be ashamed to say that emotions uncontrollable overcame me, -and I freely wept? No! For there are thousands who will read this -page who will sympathize with me in these feelings, and who will -mingle their tears with mine. - -We entered the house, and walked from room to room through all its -apartments. Here was the library of Napoleon, for he loved books. -Christina has converted it into a billiard-room, for she loves play. -Here was the little boudoir where Napoleon and Josephine met in -their hours of sacred confidence, and the tapestry and the window -curtains, in their simplicity, remain as arranged by Josephine's own -hands. Here is the chamber in which Josephine died, and the very bed -upon which she breathed her last. The afternoon sun was shining -brilliantly in through the windows, which we had thrown open, as it -shone forty years ago upon the wasted form and pallid cheek of the -dying Josephine. The forest, so secluded and beautiful, waved -brightly in the sun and in the breeze then as now; the birds then -filled the air with the same plaintive melody. The scene of nature -and of art--house, lawn, shrubbery, grove, cascade, grotto--remains -unchanged; but the billows of revolution and death have rolled over -the world-renowned inmates of Malmaison, and they are all swept -away. - -An old-serving man, eighty years of age, conducted us through the -silent and deserted apartments. The affection with which he spoke of -Napoleon and of Josephine amounted almost to adoration. He was in -their service when the Emperor and Empress, arm-in-arm, sauntered -through these apartments and these shady walks. There must have been -some most extraordinary fascination in Napoleon, by which he bound -to him so tenaciously all those who were brought near his person. -His history in that respect is without a parallel. No mortal man, -before or since, has been so enthusiastically loved. The column in -the Place Vendome is still hung with garlands of flowers by the hand -of affection. It is hardly too much to say, that the spirit of -Napoleon, emerging from his monumental tomb under the dome of the -Invalids, still reigns in France. Louis Napoleon is nothing in -himself. His power is but the reflected power of the Emperor. - -We passed from the large saloon, upon the smooth green lawn, which -has so often resounded with those merry voices, which are now all -hushed in death. We looked upon trees which Napoleon and Josephine -had planted, wandered through the walks along which their footsteps -had strayed, reclined upon the seats where they had found repose, -and culling many wild flowers, as memorials of this most beautiful -spot, with lingering footsteps retired. Nothing which I have seen in -France has interested me so much as Malmaison. Galignani's -Guide-Book says: "The park and extensive gardens in which Josephine -took so much delight are nearly destroyed. The chateau still exists, -but the Queen Dowager of Spain, to whom Malmaison now belongs, has -strictly forbidden all visits." This appears to be, in part, a -mistake. The park and the grounds immediately around the mansion, as -well as the chateau itself, remain essentially as they were in the -time of Josephine. France contains no spot more rich in touching -associations. - -4. _The Tuileries._--"Will Prince Louis Napoleon," inquired a -gentleman, of a French lady, "take up his residence in the -Tuileries?" "He had better not," was the laconic reply. "It is an -unlucky place." It requires not a little effort of imagination to -invest this enormous pile of blackened buildings with an aspect of -beauty. Three hundred years ago the palace was commenced by -Catherine de Medici. But it has never been a favorite residence of -the kings of France, and no effort of the imagination, and no -concomitants of regal splendor can make it an agreeable home. It has -probably witnessed more scenes of woe, and more intensity of -unutterable anguish, than any other palace upon the surface of the -globe. Its rooms are of spacious, lofty, cheerless grandeur. Though -millions have been expended upon this structure, it has had but -occasional occupants. A few evenings ago I was honored with an -invitation to a party given by Prince Louis Napoleon in the palace -of the Tuileries. Four thousand guests were invited. The vast -palace, had all its rooms been thrown open, might perhaps have -accommodated twice as many more. When I arrived at half-past nine -o'clock at the massive gateway which opens an entrance to the court -of the Tuileries, I found a band of soldiers stationed there to -preserve order. Along the street, also, for some distance, armed -sentinels were stationed on horseback, promptly to summon, in case -of necessity, the 80,000 troops who, with spear and bayonet, keep -the restless Parisians tranquil. The carriage, following a long -train, and followed by a long train, entered, between files of -soldiers with glittering bayonets, the immense court-yard of the -palace, so immense that the whole military force of the capital can -there be assembled. The court-yard was illuminated with almost the -brilliance of noon-day, by various pyramids of torches; and dazzling -light gleamed from the brilliant windows of the palace, proclaiming -a scene of great splendor within. A band of musicians, stationed in -the court-yard, pealed forth upon the night air the most animating -strains of martial music. At the door, an armed sentry looked at my -ticket of invitation, and I was ushered into a large hall. -It was brilliantly lighted, and a swarm of servants, large, -imposing-looking men in gorgeous livery, thronged it. One of these -servants very respectfully conducted the guest through the hall to a -spacious ante-room. This room also was dazzling with light, and -numerous servants were there to take the outer garments of the -guests, and to give them tickets in return. My number was 2004. We -then ascended a magnificent flight of marble stairs, so wide that -twenty men could, with ease, march up them abreast. Sentinels in -rich uniform stood upon the stairs with glittering bayonets. We -were ushered into the suit of grand saloons extending in long -perspective, with regal splendor. Innumerable chandeliers suspended -from the lofty gilded ceilings, threw floods of light upon the -brilliant throng which crowded this abode of royalty. In two -different saloons bands of musicians were stationed, and their -liquid notes floated through the hum of general conversation. Men of -lofty lineage were there, rejoicing in their illustrious birth, and -bearing upon their breasts the jeweled insignia of their rank. -Generals of armies were there, decorated with garments inwoven with -gold. Ladies, almost aerial in their gossamer robes, floated like -visions through the animated assembly. Occasionally the dense throng -was pressed aside, and a little space made for the dancers. The -rooms were warm, the crowd immense, the champagne abundant, and the -dancers seemed elated and happy. As the hours of the night wore -away, and the throng was a little diminished, and the bottles -emptied, I thought that I could perceive that the polka and the -waltz were prosecuted with a decided increase of fervor. I must -confess that, with my Puritan notions, I should not like to see a -friend of mine, whose maiden delicacy I desired to cherish, exposed -to such hugs and such twirls. - -About half-past ten o'clock, a wide door was thrown open at one end -of the long suit of rooms, and the Prince President, accompanied by -a long retinue of lords, ladies, embassadors, &c., entered the -apartments. They passed along through the crowd, which opened -respectfully before them, and entering one of the main saloons, took -their seats upon an elevated platform, which had been arranged and -reserved for them. All eyes were fastened upon the President. Every -one seemed to feel an intense curiosity to see him. Wherever he -moved, a circle, about ten feet in diameter, was left around him. It -was curious to see the promptness with which the crowd would -disperse before him, and close up behind him, whenever he changed -his position. There were two immense refreshment rooms, supplied -with every luxury, at the two ends of the suit of apartments, filled -with guests. These rooms of vast capacity--for four thousand hungry -people were to be provided for--were fitted up with counters running -along three of their sides like those of a shop. Behind these -counters stood an army of waiters; before them, all the evening -long, an eager crowd. As soon as one had obtained his supply, there -were two or three others ready to take his place. In one of the -rooms there were provided wines, meats of all kinds, and a -most luxurious variety of substantial viands. In the other -refreshment-room, at the other end of the thronged apartments, there -were ices, confectionery, fruits, and all the delicacies of the -dessert. - -This was seeing the Palace of the Tuileries in all its glory. -Embassadors of all nations were there--the turbaned Turk, the proud -Persian, the white-robed Arab. Many of the ladies were glittering -with diamonds and every variety of precious stones. - - "Music was there with her voluptuous swell, - And all went merry as a marriage bell." - -But as I sauntered through the brilliant scene, visions of other -days, and of spectacles more impressive, filled my mind. Through -these very halls, again and again, has rolled an inundation of all -that Paris can furnish of vulgarity, degradation, and violence. Into -the embrasure of this very window the drunken mob of men and women -drove, with oaths and clubs, Louis XVI., and compelled him to drink -the cup of humiliation to its very dregs. It was from this window -that the hapless Maria Antoinette looked, when the sentinel beneath -brutally exclaimed to her, "I wish, Austrian woman, that I had your -head upon my bayonet here, that I might pitch it over the wall to -the dogs in the street!" It was upon this balcony that the sainted -Madame Elizabeth and Maria Antoinette stepped, that dark and -dreadful night when frenzied Paris, from all its garrets, and all -its kennels, was surging like the billows of the ocean against the -Tuileries. Their hearts throbbed with terror as they heard the -tolling of the alarm bells, the rumbling of artillery wheels, and -the rattle of musketry, as the infuriate populace thronged the -palace, thirsting for their blood. From this balcony that awful -night, Maria entered the chamber where her beautiful son was -sleeping, gazed earnestly upon him, and left a mother's loving kiss -upon his cheek. She then went to the apartment of her daughter. The -beautiful child, fifteen years of age, comprehending the peril of -the hour, could not sleep. Maria pressed her to her throbbing heart, -and a mother's tenderness triumphed over the stoicism of the Queen. -Her pent-up feelings burst through all restraints, and she wept with -anguish unendurable. - -[Illustration: THE TUILERIES.] - -The Tuileries! It is, indeed, an "unlucky palace." This saloon, now -resounding with music and mirth, is the very spot where Josephine, -with swollen eyes and heart of agony, signed that cruel deed of -divorcement which sundered the dearest hopes and the fondest ties -which a human heart can cherish. History contains not a more -affecting incident than her final adieu to her husband, which -occurred in this chamber the night after the divorce. The Emperor, -restless and wretched, had just placed himself in the bed from which -he had ejected his faithful wife, when the door of his chamber was -slowly opened, and Josephine tremblingly entered. She tottered into -the middle of the room, and approached the bed. Here, irresolutely -stopping, she burst into a flood of tears. She seemed for a moment -to reflect that it was no longer proper for her to approach the bed -of Napoleon. But suddenly the pent-up fountains of love and grief in -her heart burst forth; and, forgetting every thing, in the fullness -of her anguish, she threw herself upon the bed, clasped Napoleon's -neck in her arms, and exclaiming, "My husband! my husband!" wept in -agony which could not be controlled. The firm spirit of Napoleon -was vanquished: he folded her to his bosom, pressed her cheek to -his, and their tears were mingled together. He assured her of his -love, of his ardent and undying love, and endeavored in every way to -sooth her anguish. - -It was down this marble staircase, now thronged with brilliant -guests, that the next morning Josephine descended, vailed from head -to foot. Her grief was too deep for utterance. Waving an adieu to -the affectionate and weeping friends who surrounded her, she entered -her carriage, sank back upon the cushion, buried her face in her -handkerchief, and, sobbing bitterly, left the Tuileries forever. It -is not probable that the Tuileries will ever again be inhabited by -royalty. There are too many mournful associations connected with the -place ever to render it agreeable as a residence. When Louis -Philippe was driven from the Tuileries, the mob again sacked it, and -its vast saloons are unfurnished and empty. Four years ago, the -Provisional Government passed a decree that this palace should be -converted into a hospital for invalid workmen. The Provisional -Government, however, has passed away, and the decree has not been -carried into effect. After the insurrection in June of 1848 it was -used as a hospital for the wounded. More recently it has been used -as a museum for the exhibition of paintings. Its days of regal pride -and splendor have now passed away for ever. - -[Illustration: GRAND AVENUE OF THE TUILERIES.] - -5. _The Palace Elysée._--This is a beautiful rural home in the very -heart of Paris. It is now occupied by Prince Louis Napoleon. For a -regal residence it is quite unostentatious, and few abodes could any -where be found, combining more attractions, for one of refined and -simple tastes. Through the kindness of our minister, Mr. Rives, I -obtained an audience with Count Roguet, who is at the head of the -Presidential household, and through him secured an "audience -particulière" with Prince Louis Napoleon in the Elysée. As I -alighted from a hackney-coach at the massive gateway of the palace, -armed sentinels were walking to and fro upon the pavements, -surrounding the whole inclosure of the palace with a vigilant guard. -At the open iron gate two more were stationed. I passed between -their bayonets and was directed into a small office where a -dignified-looking official examined my credentials, and then pointed -my steps along the spacious court-yard to the door of the mansion. -Armed soldiers were walking their patrols along the yard, and upon -the flight of steps two stood guarding the door, with their -glittering steel. They glanced at my note of invitation, and I -entered the door. Several servants were there, evidently picked men, -large and imposing in figure, dressed in small-clothes, and silk -stockings, and laced with rich livery. One glanced at my letter, and -conducting me across the hall introduced me into another room. There -I found another set of servants and three clerks writing at a long -table. One took my note of invitation and sat down, as if to copy -it, and I was ushered into the third room. This was a large room in -the interior of the palace, richly ornamented with gilded pilasters -and ceiling. The walls were painted with landscapes, representing -many scenes of historic interest. There were ten gentlemen, who had -come before me, waiting for an audience. Some were nobles, with the -full display upon their breasts of the decorations of their rank. -Others were generals, in brilliant military costume. Several I -observed with the modest red ribbon in the button hole, indicating -that they were members of the Legion of Honor. All spoke in low and -subdued tones of voice, and with soft footsteps moved about the -room. Occasionally, an officer of the household would enter the room -with a paper in his hands, apparently containing a list of the -names of those who had arrived, and softly would call out the name -of one, who immediately followed him into another room. As I at once -saw that I had at least an hour to wait in the ante-room, I turned -my thoughts to the scenes which, in years gone by, have transpired -in this palace of Elysium. Nearly 150 years ago, the Count of Evreux -built it for his aristocratic city residence. It was afterward -purchased, enlarged, and beautified for the residence of Madame de -Pompadour, the frail, voluptuous, intriguing paramour of Louis XV.; -and often have they, arm-in-arm, paced this floor. They have passed -out at these open French windows into the beautiful lawn which -spreads before the mansion, and sauntered until lost in the -wilderness of fountains, flowers, shrubbery, grove, and serpentine -walks which spread over these enchanting grounds. But inexorable -death struck down both king and mistress, and they passed away to -the Judgment. The Revolution came, the awful retribution for -centuries of kingly pride and oppression, and the regal palace -became a printing-office for the irreligion of Voltaire, and the -Jacobinism of Marat. These saloons and boudoirs were turned into -eating rooms, and smoking rooms. The girls of the street crowded -this spacious parlor, and where kings and queens had danced before -them, they proudly danced with _liberté, fraternité, égalité_, in -red cap and blouse. Then came the young soldier from Corsica, and -with a whip of small cords drove printer, blouse, and grisette into -the street. By his side stands the tall, athletic, mustached -inn-keeper's boy, who had learned to ride when grooming the horses -of his father's guests. With his whirlwind cloud of cavalry he had -swept Italy and Egypt, and now enriched and powerful, Murat claims -the hand of Caroline Bonaparte, the sister of the great conqueror. -With his bride he takes the palace of the Elysée, and lives here in -extravagance which even Louis XV. could not surpass. These paintings -on the wall, Murat placed here. These pyramids of Egypt ever remind -his guests that Murat, with his crushing squadrons, trampled down -the defiant Mamelukes upon the Nile. This lady, walking beneath the -trees of the forest, is Caroline, his wife. The children filling -this carriage so joyously, are his sons and daughters. But he who -had crowns at his disposal, places his brother-in-law upon the -throne of Naples, and Napoleon himself chooses this charming spot -for his favorite city residence. Weary with the cares of empire, he -has often sought repose in these shady bowers. But allied Europe -drove him from his Elysium, and the combined forces of Russia, -Prussia, and Austria, take possession of the capital of his empire, -and reinstate the Bourbons upon the throne from which they had been -driven. Napoleon returns from Elba, and again hastens to his beloved -Elysée. A hundred days glide swiftly by, and he is a prisoner, bound -to St. Helena, to die a captive in a dilapidated stable. As I was -reflecting upon the changes, and upon the painful contrast which -must have presented itself to Napoleon, between the tasteful and -exquisite seclusion of the Elysée, and the cheerless, barren, -mist-enveloped rock of St. Helena, I was awakened from my reverie by -a low tone of voice calling my name. I followed the messenger -through a door, expecting to enter the presence of Louis Napoleon. -Instead of that I was ushered into a large, elegantly furnished -saloon--the council chamber of the Emperor Napoleon, but it was -empty. There was a large folio volume, resembling one of the account -books of a merchant, lying open upon a table. The messenger who -summoned me, with my note of invitation in his hand, went to the -book, passed his finger down the page, and soon I saw it resting -upon my name. He read, apparently, a brief description of my -character, and then, leaving me alone, went into another room, I -suppose to inform the President who was to be introduced to him. In -a few moments he returned, and I was ushered into the presence of -the Prince President of Republican France. He was seated in an -arm-chair, at the side of a table covered with papers. Louis -Napoleon is a small man, with a mild, liquid, rather languid eye, -and a countenance expressive of much passive resolution rather than -of active energy. In his address, he is courteous, gentle, and -retiring, and those who know him best, assign him a far higher -position in the grade of intellect than is usually in our country -allotted to him. His government is an utter despotism, sustained by -the bayonets of the army. I have made great efforts, during the two -months in which I have been in Paris, to ascertain the state of -public opinion respecting the government of Louis Napoleon. -Circumstances have thrown me much into French society, both into the -society of those who are warm friends, and bitter enemies of the -present government. So far as I can ascertain facts, they seem to be -these. There are four parties who divide France--the Bourbonists, -the Orleanists, the Socialists, and the Bonapartists. Like the -military chieftains in Mexico, they are all struggling for dominion. -There is not sufficient intelligence and virtue in France, for it to -be governed by _opinion_, by a _vote_. The bayonet is the -all-availing argument. If Louis Napoleon is overthrown, it must be -to give place to some one, who, like him, must call the army and -despotic power to his support. Consequently, multitudes say, What -shall we gain by the change? We shall have new barricades in the -street, new rivulets of blood trickling down our gutters, and simply -another name in the Elysée.--I can see no indication that Louis -Napoleon has any personal popularity. The glory of his uncle -over-shadows him and renders him available. The army and the church, -but without any enthusiasm, are in his favor. Most of the men in -active business who seek protection and good order, support his -claims. The American merchants, settled in Paris, generally feel -that the overthrow of Louis Napoleon would be to them a serious -calamity, and that they should hardly dare in that case, to remain -in Paris. His government is submitted to, not merely as a choice of -evils, but there is a kind of approval of his despotism as necessary -to sustain him in power, and for the repose of France. I do not say -that these views are correct. I only say, that so far as I can -learn, this appears to me to be the state of the public mind. - -It is very evident that no portion of the people regard Louis -Napoleon with enthusiasm. At the great fête in the Champs Elysée, -which called all Europe to Paris, to witness the restoration of the -ancient eagles of France to the standards of the army, it was almost -universally supposed out of Paris, that the hundred thousand troops -then passing in proud array before the President would hail him -_Emperor_. A countless throng encircled the area of that vast field. -It was estimated that nearly a million of people were there -assembled. Yet when Louis Napoleon made his appearance with his -brilliant staff, I did not hear one single _citizen's_ voice raised -in applause. As he rode along the ranks of the army, a murmur of -recognition followed his progress, but no shouts of enthusiasm. - -Immediately after the fête, a magnificent ball and entertainment -were given by the army, to Prince Louis Napoleon. It is said, that -one hundred and sixty thousand dollars were expended in canopying -the vast court yard of the Ecole Militaire, and in decorating it for -this occasion. Fifteen thousand guests were invited. The scene of -brilliance and splendor, no pen can describe. About half-past twelve -o'clock the President entered upon an elevated platform, accompanied -by the foreign ministers and the members of his court. But not one -single voice even shouted a welcome. He remained a couple of hours -conversing with those around him, and then bowing to the enormous -throng of those whose invited guest he was, retired. One man, by my -side, shouted in a clear, shrill voice which filled the vast -saloons, "Vive l'Empereur," two others promptly responded, "Vive -_Napoleon_." No other acclaim was heard. - -The prospect of France is gloomy. Such a government as the present -can not be popular. No other seems possible. No one seems to expect -that the government can last for many years. And yet a change is -dreaded. Rich men are transferring their property to England and -America. Never did I love my own country as now. Never did I -appreciate as now, the rich legacy we have inherited from our -fathers. The hope of the world is centred in America. We must let -Europe alone. To mortal vision her case is hopeless. We must -cultivate our country, spread over our land, virtue and -intelligence, and freedom; and welcome to peaceful homes in the new -world, all who can escape from the taxation and despotism of the -old. In half a century from now, the United States will be the most -powerful nation upon which our sun has ever shone. Then we can speak -with a voice that shall be heard. Our advice will have the -efficiency of commands. Europe now has apparently but to choose -between the evils of despotism, and the evils of anarchy. And still -it is undeniable that the progress, though slow and painful is -steadily onward toward popular liberty. - -In this paper I have but commenced the description of the Palaces of -France. In a subsequent number I may continue the subject. - - - - -A LEAF FROM A TRAVELER'S NOTE-BOOK. - -BY MAUNSELL B. FIELD. - - -"Another flask of Orvieto, Gaetano, and tell the vetturino that we -start to-morrow morning, punctually at six," exclaimed one of three -foreigners, seated around a table, in the smokiest corner of the -"_Lepre_"--the artist-haunt of the _Via Condotti_. - -The speaker was a plain looking French gentleman, who, under the -simplest exterior, concealed the most admirable mind and the highest -personal qualities. A Provincial by birth, a Parisian by education, -and a cosmopolite by travel, he united all the peculiar sagacity of -his nation with that more dignified tone of character so rarely met -with in his countrymen. Descended from a family of Lorraine, who had -inherited the magistracy for centuries, and who, ruined at the -emigration, had only partially recovered their fortunes at the -restoration, our friend (_ours_, at least, reader) found himself, on -attaining his majority, possessed of a sufficient competency to -enable him to travel in a moderate way, so long as the taste should -continue. And here he had been residing in Rome a twelvemonth (not -_rushing through_ it with cis-Atlantic steam-power), studying art -with devotion, and living the intense life of Italian existence. His -companions at the moment our recital commences, were an old -Hollander, who had emerged from commerce into philosophy (no very -usual exit!) and myself, whom chance had made a lounger in European -capitals--a pilgrim from both Mecca and Jerusalem--and a connoisseur -in every vintage from Burgundy to Xeres. - -Carnival, with its fantastic follies, when the most constitutionally -sedate by a species of frenzied reaction become the most reckless in -absurdity, was past. Holy Week, with its gorgeous ecclesiastical -mummery--its magnificent fire-works, and its still more magnificent -illumination was likewise gone. Nearly all the travelers who had -been spending the winter in Rome, including the two thousand English -faces which, from their constant repetition at every public place, -seemed at least two hundred thousand, had disappeared. Our own party -had lingered after the rest, loath to leave, perhaps forever, the -most fascinating city in the world to an intelligent mind. But at -last we too, had determined to go, and our destination was Naples. - -That very afternoon we had taken one of the tumble-down carriages, -which station on the _Piazza di Spagna_, to make a farewell _giro_ -through the Forum. Leaving Rome is not like leaving any other town. -Associations dating from early childhood, and linking the present -with the past, make familiar, before they are known, objects in -themselves so intrinsically interesting and beautiful, that the -strongest attachment is sure to follow a first actual acquaintance -with them. And when that acquaintance has been by daily intercourse -matured, it is hard to give it up. - -The weather was delicious. And as our crazy vehicle rattled over the -disjointed pavement of the Appian way, among sandaled monks, -lounging Jesuits, and herdsmen from the Campagna, a heart-sickness -came over us which, in the instance of one, at least, of the party, -has since settled down into a chronic _mal du pays_. - -We had been taking our last meal at the "_Trattoria Lepre_," where -we had so often, after a hard day's work, feasted upon _cignale_ -(wild boar), or something purporting so to be, surrounded by the -bearded _pensionnaires_ of all the academies. - -Our Figaro-like attendant, who had served us daily for so many -months, was more than commonly officious in the consciousness that -the next morning we proposed to start for Naples. And, in fact, on -the succeeding day at an early hour, an antediluvian vehicle, -with chains and baskets slung beneath, drawn by three wild -uncouth-looking animals, under the guidance of a good-for-nothing, -half-bandit Trasteverino, in a conical hat and unwashed lineaments, -might be seen emerging from the _Porta San Giovanni_, with their -three _Excellenzas_ in the inside. - -The hearts of all three were too full for utterance--several miles -we jogged on in silence, straining our eyes with last glimpses of -St. Peter's, the Pantheon, and St. John Lateran. - -At Albano we proposed to breakfast; and, while the meal was being -prepared and the horses being refreshed, we started for a walk to -the Lake, familiar to all the party from previous visits. - -As we were seated on the bank, cigars in mouth, and as moody as -might be, the Frenchman first endeavored to turn the current of our -thoughts by speaking of Naples, which he alone of us knew. The -effort was not particularly successful. But the Frenchman promised -that when we resumed our journey, he would tell us a Neapolitan -story, the effect of which, he hoped, would be to raise our spirits. - -After returning to the inn, and breakfasting upon those mysterious -Italian cutlets, the thick breading upon which defies all -satisfactory investigation into their original material, we resumed -our journey. - -Legs dovetailed, and cigars relighted, the Frenchman thus commenced -the story of - - -CARLO CARRERA. - -The summer before last, after a shocking soaking in crossing the -Apennines, I contracted one of those miserable fevers that nature -seems to exact as a toll from unfortunate Trans-Alpines for a -summer's residence in Italy. I had no faith in Italian doctors, and -as there was no medical man from my own country in Florence, I was -persuaded to call in Doctor Playfair a Scotch physician, long -domiciled in Italy, and as I afterwards discovered, both a skillful -practitioner and a charming companion. I was kept kicking my heels -against the footboard in all some six weeks, and when I had become -sufficiently convalescent to sit up, the doctor used to make me long -and friendly visits. In these visits he kept me posted up with all -the chit-chat of the town; and upon one occasion related to me, -better than I can tell it, the following story, of the truth of -which (in all seriousness), he was perfectly satisfied, having heard -it from the mouth of one of the parties concerned. - -"Do throw some _bajocchi_ to those clamorous natives, my dear -Republican, that I may proceed with my story in peace." - -Well, then, to give you a little preliminary history--don't be -alarmed--a very little. The liberal government established in Naples -in the winter of 1820-21, on the basis of the Spanish Cortes of -1812, was destined to a speedy dissolution. The despotic powers of -the Continent, at the instigation of Austria, refused to enter into -diplomatic relations with a kingdom which had adopted the -representative system, after an explicit and formal engagement to -maintain the institutions of absolutism. An armed intervention was -decided upon at the Congress of Laybach, with the full consent and -approbation of Ferdinand I., who treacherously abandoned the cause -of his subjects. It was agreed to send an Austrian army, backed by a -Russian one, into the Neapolitan dominions, for the purpose of -putting down the Carbornari and other insurgents who, to the number -of one hundred and fifty thousand men, badly armed, badly clothed, -and badly disciplined, had assembled under the command of that -notorious adventurer, Guiliemo Pepe, for the protection of those -feebly secured liberties which had resulted to their country from -the Sicilian revolution of the previous summer. This foreign force -was to be maintained entirely at the expense of Ferdinand, and to -remain in his kingdom, if necessary, for three years. The feeble -resistance offered by the patriots to the invading forces--their -defeat at the very outset--and their subsequent flight and -disbandment--constitute one of those disgraceful denouements so -common to Italian attempts at political regeneration. - -"By all the storks in Holland," exclaimed the Dutchman, "cut short -your story--I see nothing in it particularly enlivening." - -"_Badinage à part_," resumed the Frenchman, "I have done in a word." - -After the disastrous engagement of March 7, at Rieti, and the -restoration of the old government, the patriot forces were scattered -over the country; and as has too often been the case in southern -Europe upon the discomfiture of a revolutionary party, many bands of -banditti were formed from the disorganized remnants of the defeated -army. For a long time the whole of the kingdom, particularly the -Calabrias, was infested by robber gangs, whose boldness only -equaled their necessities. Most of these banditti were hunted down -and transferred to the galleys. The Neapolitan police has at all -times been active in the suppression of disorders known or suspected -to have a political origin. Fear of a revolution has ever been a -more powerful incentive to the government than respect for justice -or love of order; and "_Napoli la Fidelissima_" has so far reserved -the name, and inspired such confidence in the not particularly -intellectual sovereign who now sits on the throne, that the last -time that I was there, his Majesty was in the habit of parading his -bewhiskered legions through the streets of his capital, completely -equipped at all points--except that they were unarmed! - -And now for the story. - -Among the most notorious of the banditti chieftains was one Carlo -Carrera. This person, who had been a subaltern officer, succeeded -for a long time, with some thirty followers, in defying the attempts -of the police to capture him. Driven from hold to hold, and from -fastness to fastness, he had finally been pursued to the -neighborhood of Naples. Here the gendarmes of the government were -satisfied that he was so surrounded as soon to be compelled to -surrender at discretion. This was late in the following winter. - -About this time his Britannic Majesty's frigate "Tagus," commanded -by Captain, now Vice-Admiral, Sir George Dundas, was cruising in the -Mediterranean. In the month of February Sir George anchored in the -bay of Naples, with the intention of remaining there some weeks. It -happened that another officer in his Majesty's navy, Captain, now -Vice-Admiral, Sir Edward Owen, was wintering at Naples for the -benefit of his health, accompanied by his wife and her sister, Miss -V----, a young lady of extraordinary beauty and accomplishments. Sir -George and Sir Edward were old friends. They had been together in -the same ship as captain and first-lieutenant on the African -station, and their accidental meeting when equals in rank was as -cordial as it was unexpected. - -A few days after the arrival of the frigate, a pic-nic excursion to -the shores of Lake Agnano was proposed. The party was to consist of -the persons of whom I have just been speaking, together with a few -other English friends, chiefly gentlemen from the embassy. -Accordingly they set off on one of those delightful mornings which -are of themselves almost sufficient to make strangers exclaim with -the enthusiastic Neapolitans, "_Vedi Napoli e poi mori!_" The -surpassing loveliness of the scene, its perfect repose with so many -elements of action, brought to the soul such a luxurious sense of -passive enjoyment, that it seemed like the echo of all experienced -happiness. I can not say if the _Strada Nuova_, in all its present -paved perfection, then existed; but there must have been some sort -of a road following the indentations of that lovely shore. - -I have traced from Genoa to Nice the far-famed windings of the -Maritime Alps--I have sailed along the glittering shores of the -Bosphorus--I have admired the boasted site of the Lusitanian -capital--and yet I feel, as all travelers must feel, that the -combined charms of all these would fail to make another Naples. - -Far out before them lay the fair island of Capri, like a sea -goddess, with arms outstretched to receive the playful waters of the -Mediterranean. Behind, Vesuvius rose majestically, the blue smoke -lazily curling from its summit, as peaceful as if it had only been -placed there as an accessory to the beauty of the scene; and further -on, as they turned the promontory, lay the bright islets of Nisita -and Procida, so fantastic in their shapes and so romantic in their -outlines. - -On reaching the shore of Lake Agnano, our travelers left their -carriage near the villa of Lucullus. Of course they suffocated -themselves, according to the approved habit of tourists, in the -vapor baths of San Germano--and according to the same approved -habit, devoted an unfortunate dog to temporary strangulation in the -mephitic air of the _Grotta del cane_. After doing up the lions of -the neighborhood, our friends seated themselves near the shore, to -partake of the cold fowls and champagne, of which ample provision -had been made for the excursion. - -"I should have preferred the native _Lachrymæ Christi_ to -champagne," interrupted the Dutchman, "if the usual quality compares -with that of some I once drank at Rotterdam." - -The repast finished, resumed the Frenchman, most of the party -strolled off to the other extremity of the lake--until after a short -time no one was left but Miss V----, who was amusing herself by -making a sketch of the landscape. What a pity that the women of -other nations are so rarely accomplished in drawing, while the -English ladies are almost universally so! - -Well then, our fair heroine for the moment, had got on most -industriously with her work, when suddenly, on raising her eyes from -her paper to a stack of decayed vines, she was disagreeably -surprised at finding a pair of questionable optics leveled upon her. -Retaining her composure of manner, she continued tranquilly her -occupation, until she had time to remark that the intruder was -accompanied by at least a dozen companions. At this moment the -personage whom she had first seen, quietly left his place of partial -concealment, walked up to the astonished lady, folded his arms, and -stationed himself behind her back. He was a large, heavy, -good-looking person--but the circumstances under which he presented -himself, rather than any peculiarity in his appearance, caused Miss -V---- to suspect the honesty of his profession. - -"Indeed you are making an uncommonly pretty picture there, if you -will permit me to say so," remarked the stranger. - -"I am glad you like it," replied the young lady. "I think, however, -that it would be vastly improved, if you would permit me to sketch -your figure in the foreground." - -"Nothing would flatter me more. But, cara signorina, my present -object is a much less romantic one than sitting for my portrait to -so fair an artist. Will you allow me to gather up for myself and my -half famished friends, the fragments of your recent meal?" - -"You are quite welcome to them, I assure you." - -The dialogue had proceeded thus far when it was interrupted by the -return, to the no small satisfaction of one of the party at least, -of the two English officers and some others of the stragglers. - -The stranger, in no way disconcerted, turned to Sir Edward Owen, and -said, - -"I believe that I have the honor of addressing his Excellency, the -commander of the British frigate in the harbor." - -"Excuse me," said Sir George Dundas, "I am that person." - -"Sono il servitore di Vostra Excellenza. The young lady whom I found -here has given me permission to make use of the food that has been -left by your party. But if your Excellency, and you, sir," -addressing the other officer, "will grant me the favor of a moment's -private conversation, you will increase the obligation already -conferred." - -The three, thereupon, retired to a short distance from the rest of -the company, when the stranger resumed: - -"If your Excellencies have been in this poor country long enough, -you must have heard speak of one Carlo Carrera. You may or you may -not be surprised to hear that I am he--and that my followers are not -far off. I have no desire to inconvenience your Excellencies, your -friends, or, least of all, the ladies who accompany you, and shall, -therefore, be but too happy to release you at once--I say _release_, -for you are in my power--upon the single condition, however, that -you two gentlemen give me your word of honor that you will both, or -either of you, come to me whenever or wherever I shall send for you -during the next two weeks--and that you will not speak of this -conversation to any one." - -Disposed at all hazards to extricate the ladies from any thing like -an adventure, our travelers willingly entered into the required -engagement, and, with a mutual "_a rivederla_," the two parties -separated. - -Our English friends returned to Naples, amused at the singular -episode to their excursion, and rather disposed to admire the -gallant behavior of the intruder than to regard him with any -unfavorable sentiments. - -Some three days after this, as Sir George Dundas was strolling about -nightfall in the Villa Reale, a person in the dress of a priest -approached him, and beckoned him to follow. Leading the officer into -an obscure corner behind one of the numerous statues, the stranger -informed him that he came from the bandit of Lake Agnano, and that -he was directed to request him to be at seven o'clock that evening -in front of the Filomarini Chapel, in the Church of the Santissimi -Apostoli. - -The gallant captain did not hesitate to obey. At the appointed hour, -on entering the church and advancing to the indicated chapel, he -found before it what appeared to be an old woman on her knees, -engaged in the deepest devotion. At a sign from the pretended -worshiper, the captain fell upon his knees at her side. The old -crone briefly whispered to him, that it was known to Carrera that -his Excellency was invited to a ball at the British Embassy the next -evening--that he must by no means fail to go--but that at midnight -precisely he must leave the ball-room, return home, remove his -uniform, put on a plain citizen's dress, and be at the door of the -same church at one o'clock in the morning. - -After these directions the old woman resumed her devotions, and the -captain left the church, his curiosity considerably excited by the -adventurous turn that things were taking. His brother officer, to -whom he related the particulars of the meeting at the Villa Reale, -and of the interview in the church, strongly urged him to fulfill -the promise which he had made at Lake Agnano, and to follow to the -letter the mysterious instructions which he had received. - -Of course, the ball at the British Embassy on the following evening -was graced by the presence of nearly all the distinguished -foreigners in town. The English wintered at Naples at that time in -almost as large numbers as they do at present; and in all matters of -gayety and festivity, display and luxury, they as far exceeded the -Italians as they now do. It is a curious circumstance, which both of -you must have had occasion to remark, that the English, so rigid and -austere at home, when transplanted south of the Alps, surpass the -natives themselves in license and frivolity. - -Our captain was of course there, and at an early hour. After -mingling freely in the gayeties of the evening, at midnight -precisely he withdrew from the ball-room, _sans congé_, and hastened -to his apartments. Changing his dress, and arming himself with a -brace of pistols, he hurried to the Church of the Apostoli. In his -excess of punctuality, he arrived too early at the rendezvous; and -it was only after the expiration of some twenty minutes, that he was -joined by the withered messenger before employed to summon him. -Bidding him follow her, the old woman led the way with an activity -little to have been expected in one apparently so feeble. Turning -down the _Chiaja_, they followed the course of the bay a weary way -beyond the grotto of _Posilipo_. The captain was already tolerably -exhausted when the guide turned off abruptly to the right, and -commenced the ascent of one of those vine-clad hills which border -the road. The hill was thickly planted with the vine, so that their -progress was both difficult and fatiguing. - -They had been toiling upward more than an half hour since leaving -the highway, and the patience of Sir George was all but exhausted, -when on a sudden they came to one of those huts constructed of -interlaced boughs, which are temporarily used by the vine-dressers -in the south of Italy. The entrance was closed by a plaited mat of -leaves and stalks. Raising this mat, the old woman entered, -followed by her companion. - -The hut was dimly lighted by a small lantern. Closing the entrance -as securely as the nature of the fastening would permit, the -pretended old woman threw off her disguise and disclosed the -well-remembered features of the courteous bandit of Lake Agnano. - -Thanking his guest for the punctuality with which he had kept his -appointment, Carrera motioned him to follow him to the further -extremity of the hut. Taking the lantern in his hand, and stooping, -the Italian raised a square slab of stone, which either from the -skill with which it was adjusted or from the partial obscurity which -surrounded him, had escaped Sir George's eye. As he did this a flood -of light poured into the hut. Descending by a flight of a dozen or -more steps, followed by the robber chieftain, who drew back the -stone after them, the captain found himself in one of those spacious -catacombs so common in the neighborhood of Naples. Seated around a -table were a score or more of as fierce looking vagabonds as the -imagination could paint, who all rose to their feet as their leader -entered with his guest, saluting both with that propriety of address -so peculiar to the lower classes of Italians and Spaniards. - -When all were seated, Carrera turned to the Englishman, and said, - -"Your Excellency will readily suppose that I had a peculiar motive -for desiring an interview. God knows that I was not brought up to -wrong and violence--but evil times have sadly changed the current of -my life. A poor soldier, I have become a poorer brigand--at least in -these latter days, when hunted like a wild beast I am at last -enveloped in the toils of my pursuers, egress from which is now -impossible by my own unaided efforts. I have no particular claim -upon your excellency's sympathy, but I have thought that mere pity -might induce you to receive me and my followers on board your -frigate, and transport us to some place of safety beyond the limits -of unhappy Italy." - -Here the astonished Englishman sprang to his feet, protesting that -his position as a British officer prevented him from entertaining -for a moment so extraordinary a proposition. - -"Your Excellency will permit me, with all respect, to observe," -Carrera resumed, "that I have treated you and yours generously. Do -not compel me to regret that I have done so; and do not force me to -add another to the acts of violence which already stain my hands. -Your Excellency knows too many of our secrets; we could not, -consistently with our own safety, permit you to exist otherwise than -as a friend." - -The discussion was long. The robbers pleaded hard, pledging -themselves not to disgrace the captain's generosity, if he would -consent to save them. Sir George could not prevent himself from -somewhat sympathizing with these unfortunate men, who had been -driven to the irregular life they led as much by the viciousness of -the government under which they lived as by any evil propensities -of their own. It is not at all probable that the threat had any -thing to do with his decision, but certain it is, that the dialogue -terminated by a conditional promise on his part to yield to their -request. - -"If your Excellency will send a boat to a spot on the shore, -directly opposite where we now are, to-morrow, at midnight, it will -be easy for us to dispatch the sentinel and jump aboard," continued -Carrera. - -"I will send the boat," answered the Englishman, "but will under no -circumstances consent to any bloodshed. You forget your own -recently-expressed scruples on the same subject." - -It was finally decided that the boat should be sent--that the -captain should arrange some plan to divert the attention of the -sentinel--and that to their rescuer alone should be left the choice -of their destination. - -Matters being thus arranged, Carrera resumed his disguise, and -conducted his guest homeward as far as the outskirts of the town. - -The following night at the appointed hour, a boat with muffled oars -silently approached the designated spot. An officer, wrapped in a -boat cloak was seated in the stern. As the boat drew near the shore, -the sentinel presented his musket, and challenged the party. The -officer, with an under-toned "_Amici_," sprang to the beach. - -A few hundred yards from the spot where the landing had been -effected, stood an isolated house with a low verandah. The officer, -slipping a scudo into the sentinel's hand, told him that he was come -for the purpose of carrying off a young girl residing in that house, -and begged him to assist him by making a clatter on the door at the -opposite side, so as to divert the attention of the parents while he -received his inamorata from the verandah. The credulous Neapolitan -was delighted to have an opportunity to earn a scudo by so easy a -service. - -The moment that he disappeared, Carrera and his band rushed to the -boat. A few powerful strokes of the oars and they were out of the -reach of musket-shot before the bewildered sentry could understand -that in some way or other his credulity had been imposed upon. - -That night the "Tagus" weighed anchor for Malta. The port of -destination was reached after a short and prosperous voyage. Sir -George remained there only sufficiently long to discharge his -precious cargo, who left him, as may be imagined, with protestations -of eternal gratitude. - -The fact that the frigate was on a cruise prevented any particular -surprise at her sudden disappearance from the waters of Naples. And -when she returned to her anchorage after a short absence, even the -party to the pic-nic were far from conjecturing that there was any -connection between her last excursion and the adventure of Lake -Agnano. - -Carrera and his band enlisted in a body into one of the Maltese -regiments. A year or two later, becoming dissatisfied, they passed -over into Albania, and took service with Ali Pasha. - -Some seven years after these events, Sir George Dundas was again at -Naples. As he was lounging one day in the Villa Reale, a tall and -noble-looking man, whose countenance seemed familiar, approached -him. Shaking him warmly by the hand, the stranger whispered in his -ear, - - "_Il suo servitore Carrera!_" - -And thus ends the Frenchman's story. - - - - -ALL BAGGAGE AT THE RISK OF THE OWNER. - -A STORY OF THE WATERING-PLACES. - - "Water, water, every where, - And not a drop to drink!" - - -I could never understand why we call our summer resorts -_Watering-Places_. I am but an individual, quite anonymous, as you -see, and only graduated this summer, yet I have "known life," and -there was no fool of an elephant in our college town, and other -towns and cities where I have passed vacations. Now, if there have -been any little anti-Maine-Law episodes in my life, they have been -my occasional weeks at the Watering-Places. - -It was only this summer, as I was going down the Biddle staircase at -Niagara, that Keanne, who was just behind me, asked quietly, and in -a wondering tone, "Why do cobblers drive the briskest trade of all, -from Nahant to Niagara?" I was dizzy with winding down the spiral -stairs, and gave some philosophical explanation, showing up my -political economy. But when in the evening, at the hotel, he invited -me to accompany him in an inquiry into the statistics of cobblers, I -understood him better. - -So far from being Watering-Places, it is clear that there is not -only a spiritual but a sentimental intoxication at all these -pleasant retreats. There is universal exhilaration. Youth, beauty, -summer, money, and moonlight conspire to make water, or any thing of -which water is a type, utterly incredible. There is no practical -joke like that of asking a man if he came to Saratoga to drink the -waters. Every man justly feels insulted by such a suspicion. "Am I -an invalid, sir? Have I the air of disease, I should like to know?" -responds Brummell, fiercely, as he turns suddenly round from tying -his cravat, upon which he has lavished all his genius, and with -which he hoped to achieve successes. "Do I look weak, sir? Why the -deuce should you think I came to Saratoga to drink the waters?" - -At Niagara it is different. There you naturally speak of water--over -your champagne or chambertin at dinner; and at evening you take a -little tipple to protect yourself against the night air as you step -out to survey the moonlight effects of the cataract. You came -professedly to see the water. There is nothing else to see or do -there, but to look at the falls, eat dinner, drink cobblers, and -smoke. If you have any doubt upon this point, run up in the train -and see. I think you will find people doing those things and nothing -else. I am not sure, indeed, but you will find some young ladies -upon the piazza overhanging the rapids, rapt and fascinated by the -delirious dance of the water beneath, who add a more alluring terror -to the weird awe that the cataract inspires, by wild tales of ghosts -and midnight marvels, which, haply, some recent graduate more -frightfully emphasizes by the ready coinage of his brain. - -No, it is a melancholy misnomer. To call these gay summer courts of -Bacchus and Venus Watering-Places, is like the delightful mummery of -the pastoral revels of the king in the old Italian romance, who -attired himself as an abbot, and all his rollicking court as monks -and nuns, and shaping his pavilion into the semblance of a -monastery, stole, from contrast, a sharper edge for pleasure. - -I must laugh when you call Saratoga, for instance, a Watering-Place; -because there, this very summer, I was intoxicated with that elixir -of life, which young men do not name, and which old men call love. -Let me tell you the story; for, if your eye chances to fall upon -this page while you are loitering at one of those pleasant places, -you can see in mine your own experience, and understand why Homer is -so intelligible to you. Are you not all the time in the midst of an -Iliad? That stately woman who is now passing along the piazza is -beautiful Helen, although she is called Mrs. Bigge in these -degenerate days, and Bigge himself is really the Menelaus of the old -Trojan story, although he deals now in cotton. Paris, of course, is -an habitué of Saratoga in the season, goes to Newport in the middle -of August, and always wears a mustache. But Paris is not so -dangerous to the connubial felicity of Menelaus Bigge, as he was in -the gay Grecian days. - -Now what I say is this, that you who are swimming down the current -of the summer at a Watering-Place, are really surrounded by the -identical material out of which Homer spun his Iliad--yes, and -Shakspeare his glowing and odorous Romeo and Juliet--only it goes by -different names at Saratoga, Newport, and Niagara. And to point the -truth of what I say, I shall tell you my little story, illustrative -of summer life, and shall leave your wit to define the difference -between my experience and yours. It is of the simplest kind, mark -you, and "as easy as lying." - -I left college, in the early summer, flushed with the honors of the -valedictory. It was in one of those quiet college towns which are -the pleasantest spots in New England, that I had won and worn my -laurels. After four years--so long in passing, such a swift line of -light when passed--the eagerly-expected commencement day arrived. It -was the greatest day in the year in that village, and I was the -greatest man of the day. - -Ah! I shall always see the gathering groups of students and -alumni upon the college lawn, in the "ambrosial darkness" of -broad-branching elms. I can yet feel the warm sunshine of that quiet -day--and see our important rustling about in the black silk -graduating gowns--I, chiefest of all, and pointed out, to the -classes just entered, as the valedictorian, saluted as I passed by -the homage of their admiring glances. Then winding down the broad -street, over which the trees arched, and which they walled with -green, again my heart dilates upon the swelling music, that pealed -in front of the procession, while all the town made holiday, and -clustered under the trees to see us pass. I hear still chiming, and -a little muffled even now, through memory, the sweet church bell -that rang gayly and festally, not solemnly, that day--and how shall -I forget the choking and exquisite delight and excitement with -which, in the mingled confusion of ringing bell and clanging martial -instruments, we passed from the warm, bright sunshine without, into -the cool interior of the church. As we entered, the great organ -aroused from its majestic silence, and drowned bell and band in its -triumphant torrent of sound, while, to my excited fancy, the church -seemed swaying in the music, it was so crowded with women, in light -summer muslins, bending forward, and whispering, and waving fans. -The rattling of pew-doors--the busy importance of the "Professor of -Elocution and Belles-Lettres"--the dying strains of the organ--the -brief silence--the rustling rising to hear the President's -prayer--it is all as distinct in my mind as in yours, my young -friend fresh from college, and "watering" for your first season. - -Then, when the long list was called, and the degrees had been -conferred, came my turn--"the valedictory addresses." In that -moment, as I gathered my gown around me and ascended the platform, I -did not envy Demosthenes nor Cicero, nor believe that a sweeter -triumph was ever won. That soft, country summer-day, and I the focus -of a thousand enthusiastic eyes to which the low words of farewell I -spoke to my companions, brought a sympathetic moisture--that is a -picture which must burn forever, illuminating life. The first -palpable and visible evidence of your power over others is that -penetrating aroma of success--sweeter than success itself--which -comes only once, and only for a moment, but for that single moment -is a dream made real. The memory of that day makes June in my mind -forever. - -You see I am growing garrulous, and do not come to Saratoga by -steam. But I did come, fresh from that triumph, and full of it. I -had been the greatest man of the greatest day in a town not five -hundred miles away, and could not but feel that my fame must have -excited Saratoga. With what modest trembling I wrote my name in the -office-book. The man scarcely looked at it, but wrote a number -against it, shouted to the porter to take Mr. ----'s (excuse my -name) luggage to No. 310, and I mechanically followed that -functionary, and observed that not a single loiterer in the office -raised his head at my name. - -But worse than that, the name seemed to be of no consequence. I was -no longer Mr. ---- with "the valedictory addresses," &c, &c. -(including the thousand eyes). I was merely No. 310--and you too -have already observed, I am sure, wherever you are passing the -summer, that you are not an individual at a Watering-Place. You lose -your personal identity in a great summer hotel, as you would in a -penitentiary; you are No. this or No. that. It is No. 310 who wishes -his Champagne frappé. It is No. 310 who wishes his card taken to No. -320. It is No. 310 who goes in the morning, pays his bill, and -hears, as the porter slings on his luggage and takes his shilling, -"put No. 310 in order." - -This is one of the humiliating aspects of Watering-Place life. You -are one of a mass, and distinguished by your number. Yet you can -never know the mortifying ignominy of such treatment until it comes -directly upon the glory of a commencement, at which you have -absorbed all other individuality into yourself. - -I reached Saratoga and came down to dinner. I could not help -laughing at the important procession of negro-waiters stamping in -with the different courses, and concentrating attention upon their -movements. I felt then, instinctively, how it is the last degree of -vulgarity--that the serving at table instead of being noiseless as -the wind that blows the ship along, is the chief spectacle and -amusement at dinner. Dinner at Saratoga, or Newport, or Niagara is a -grand military movement of black waiters, who advance, halt, load, -present, and fire their dishes, and in which the elegant ladies and -the elegant gentlemen are merely lay-figures, upon which the African -army exercise their skill by not hitting or spilling. For the first -days of my residence it was a quiet enjoyment to me to see with what -elaborate care the fine ladies and gentlemen arrayed themselves to -play their inferior parts at dinner. The chief actors in the -ceremony--the negro waiters--ran, a moment before the last bell, to -put on clean white jackets and when the bell rang, and the puppets -were seated--fancying, with charming naïveté, that they were the -principle objects of the feast--then thundered in the sable host and -deployed right and left, tramping like the ghost in Don Giovanni, -thumping, clashing, rattling, and all thought of elegance or -propriety was lost in the universal tumult. - -People who submit to this, consider themselves elegant. But what if -in their own houses and dining-rooms there should be this "alarum, -enter an army," as the old play-books say, whenever they entertained -their friends at dinner. - -I was lonely at first. Nothing is so solitary as a gay and crowded -Watering-Place, where you have few friends. The excessive hilarity -of others emphasizes your own quiet and solitude. And especially at -Saratoga, where there is no resource but the company. You must bowl, -or promenade the piazza, or flirt, with the women. You must drink, -smoke, chat, and game a little with the men. But if you know neither -women nor men, and have no prospect of knowing them, then take the -next train to Lake George. - -It is very different elsewhere. At Newport, for instance, if you are -only No. 310 at your hotel and nothing more; if you know no one, and -have to drink your wine, and smoke, and listen to the music alone, -you have only to leap into your saddle, gallop to the beach, and as -you pace along the margin of the sea, that will laugh with you at -the frivolities you have left behind--will sometimes howl harsh -scorn upon the butterflies, who are not worth it, and who do not -deserve it--and the Atlantic will be to you lover, counselor, and -sweet society. - -Toward the end of my first Saratoga week, I met an old college -friend. It was my old chum, Herbert, from the South. Herbert, who, -over many a midnight glass and wasting weed, had leaned out of my -window in the moonlight, and recited those burning lines of Byron -which all students do recite to that degree, that I have often -wondered what students did, in romantic moonlights, before Byron was -born. In those midnight recitals Herbert used often to stop, and say -to me: - -"I wonder if you would like my sister?" - -Her name was not mentioned, but Herbert was so handsome in the -southern style; he was so picturesque, and manly, and graceful--a -kind of Sidney and Bayard--that I was sure his sister was not less -than Amy Robsart, or Lucy of Lammermoor, or perhaps Zuleika. - -Toward the close of our course, we were one day sauntering beyond -the little college-town, and dreaming dreams of that Future which, -to every ambitious young man, seems a stately palace waiting to be -royally possessed by him, when Herbert, who really loved me, said: - -"I wish you knew Lulu." - -"I wish I did know Lulu." - -And that was all we ever said about it. - -When we met at Saratoga it was a pleasant surprise to both, and -doubly so to me, for I was sadly bored by my want of acquaintances. -We fell into an earnest conversation, in the midst of which Herbert -suddenly said: - -"Ah! there, I must run and join Lulu!" and left me. - -Who has not had just this experience, or a similar one, at any -Watering-Place? One day you suddenly discover that some certain -person has arrived; and when you go to your room to dress for -dinner, your boots look splayed--your waistcoats are not the -thing--your coat isn't half as handsome as other coats--and you -spoil all your cravats in your nervous efforts to tie them -exquisitely. You get dressed, however, and descend to dinner, giving -yourself a Vivian Grey-ish air--a combination of the coxcomb, the -poet, and the politician--and yet wonder why your hands seem so -large, and why you do not feel at your ease, although every thing is -the same as yesterday, except that Lulu has arrived. - -And there she sits! - -So sat Lulu, Herbert's sister, cool in light muslin, as if that -sultry summer day she were Undine draped in mist. She had the -self-possession, which many children have, and which greatly -differs from the elaborate _sang froid_ of elegant manners. There -was no haughty reserve, no cold unconsciousness, as if the world -were not worth her treading. But when Herbert nodded to me--and I, -knowing that she was about to look at me, involuntarily put forward -the poet-aspect of Vivian--she turned and looked toward me earnestly -and unaffectedly for a few moments, while I played with a -sweet-bread, and looked abstracted. It is a pity that we men make -such fools of ourselves when we are in the callow state! Lulu turned -back and said something to Herbert; of course, it was telling him -her first impression of me! Do you think I wished to hear it? - -She was not tall nor superb: her face was very changeful and -singularly interesting. I watched her during dinner, and such were -my impressions. If they were wrong, it was the fault of my -perceptions. - -We met upon the piazza after dinner while the beautifully-dressed -throng was promenading, and the band was playing. It was an Arcadian -moment and scene. - -"Lulu, this is my friend, Mr. ----, of whom I have spoken to you so -often." - -Herbert remained but a moment. I offered my arm to his sister, and -we moved with the throng. The whole world seemed a festival. The day -was golden--the music swelled in those long, delicious chords, which -imparadise the moment, and make life poetry. In that strain, and -with that feeling, our acquaintance commenced. It was Lulu's first -summer at a Watering-Place (at least she said so); it was my first, -too, at a Watering-Place--but not my first at a flirtation, thought -I, loftily. She had all the cordial freshness of a Southern girl, -with that geniality of manner which, without being in the least -degree familiar, is confiding and friendly, and which to us, -reserved and suspicious Northerners, appears the evidence of the -complete triumph we have achieved, until we see that it is a general -and not a particular manner. - -The band played on: the music seemed only to make more melodious and -expressive all that we said. At intervals, we stopped and leaned -upon the railing by a column wreathed with a flowering vine, and -Lulu's eye seeking the fairest blossom, found it, and her hand -placed it in mine. I forgot commencement-day, and the glory of the -valedictory. Lulu's eyes were more inspiring than the enthusiastic -thousand in the church; and the remembered bursts of the band that -day were lost in the low whispers of the girl upon my arm. I do not -remember what we said. I did not mean to flirt, in the usual sense -of that word (men at a Watering-Place never do). It was an -intoxication most fatal of all, and which no Maine law can avert. - -Herbert joined us later in the afternoon, and proposed a drive; he -was anxious to show me his horses. We parted to meet at the door. -Lulu gently detached her arm from mine; said gayly, "Au revoir, -bientôt!" as she turned away; and I bounded into the hall, sprang -up-stairs into my room, and sat down, stone-still, upon a chair. - -I looked fixedly upon the floor, and remained perfectly motionless -for five minutes. I was lost in a luxury of happiness! Without a -profession, without a fortune, I felt myself irresistibly drawn -toward this girl;--and the very fascination lay here, that I knew, -however wild and wonderful a feeling I might indulge, it was all -hopeless. We should enjoy a week of supreme happiness--suffer in -parting--and presently be solaced, and enjoy other weeks of supreme -felicity with other Lulus! - -My young friends of the Watering-Places, deny having had just such -an emotion and "course of thought," if you dare! - -We drove to the lake, and the whole world of Saratoga with us. -Herbert's new bays sped neatly along--he driving in front, Lulu and -I chatting behind. Arrived at the lake, we sauntered down the steep -slope to the beach. We stepped into a boat and drifted out upon the -water. It was still and gleaming in the late afternoon; and the -pensive tranquillity of evening was gathering before we returned. We -sang those passionate, desperate love-songs which young people -always sing when they are happiest and most sentimental. So rapidly -had we advanced--for a Watering-Place is the very hot-bed of -romance--that I dropped my hand idly upon Lulu's; and finding that -hers was not withdrawn, gradually and gently clasped it in mine. So, -hand-in-hand, we sang, floating homeward in the golden twilight. - -There was a dance in the evening at the hotel. Lulu was to dance -with me, of course, the first set, and as many waltzes as I chose. -She was so sparkling, so evidently happy, that I observed the New -York belles, to whom happiness is an inexplicable word, scanned her -with an air of lofty wonder and elegant disdain. But Lulu was so -genuinely graceful and charming; she remained so quietly superior in -her simplicity to the assuming _hauteur_ of the metropolitan misses, -that I kept myself in perfect good-humor, and did not feel myself at -all humbled in the eyes of the Young America of that city, because I -was the cavalier of the unique Southerner. So far did this go, that -in my desire to revenge myself upon the New Yorkers, I resolved to -increase their chagrin by praising Lulu to the chief belle of the -set. - -To her I was introduced. A New York belle at a Watering-Place! -"There's a divinity doth hedge her," and a mystery too. She looked -at me with supreme indifference as I advanced to the ordeal of -presentation, evidently measuring my claims upon her consideration -by the general aspect of my outer man. I moved with a certain pride, -because although I felt awkward before the glance of Lulu, I was -entirely self-possessed in the consciousness of unexceptionable -attire before the unmeaning stare of the fashionable _parvenue_. You -see I do get a little warm in speaking of her, and yet I was as cool -as an autumn morning, when I made my bow, and requested her hand -for the next set. - -We danced _vis-a-vis_ to Lulu. My partner swung her head around upon -her neck, as none but Juno or Minerva should venture to do, and -looked at the other _personal_ of the quadrille, to see if she were -in a perfectly safe set. I ventured a brief remark upon nothing--the -weather, probably. The Queen of the Cannibal Islands bent -majestically in a monosyllabic response. - -"It is very warm to-night," continued I. - -"Yes, very warm," she responded. - -"You have been long here?" - -"Two weeks." - -"Probably you came from Niagara?" - -"No, from Sharon." - -"Shall you go to Lake George?" - -"No, we go to Newport." - -There I paused, and fondled my handkerchief, while the impassible -lady relapsed into her magnificent silence, and offered no hope of -any conversation in any direction. But I would not be balked of my -object, and determined that if the living stream did run "quick -below," the glaring polish of ice which these "fine manners" -presented, my remark should be an Artesian bore to it. - -"How handsome our _vis-a-vis_ is?" said I. - -My stately lady said nothing, but tossed her head slightly, without -changing her expression, except to make it more pointedly frigid, in -a reply which was a most vociferous negative, petrified by -politeness into ungracious assent. - -"She is what Lucia of Lammermoor might have been before she was -unhappy," continued I, plunging directly off into the sea of -trouble. - -"Ah! I don't know Miss Lammermoor," responded my partner, with -_sang-froid_. - -I am conscious that I winced at this. A New York belle, hedged with -divinity and awfulness, &c, _not know Miss Lammermoor_. Such stately -_naïveté_ of ignorance drew a smile into my eyes, and I concluded to -follow the scent. - -"You misunderstand me," said I. "I was speaking of Scott's -Lucia--the Waverley novel, you know." - -"Waverley, Waverley," replied my Cannibal Queen, who moved her head -like Juno, but this time lisping and somewhat confused, as if she -knew that, by the mention of books, we were possibly nearing the -verge of sentiment. "Waverley--I don't know what you mean: you're -too deep for me." - -I was silent for that moment, and sat a mirthful Marius, among the -ruins of my proud idea of a metropolitan belle. Had she not -exquisitely perfected my revenge? Could the contrast of my next -dance with Lulu have been pointed with more diamond distinctness -than by the unweeting lady, whom I watched afterward, with my eyes -swimming in laughter, as she glided, passionlessly, without smiling, -without grace, without life--like a statue clad in muslin, over -grass-cloth, around the hall. Once again, during the evening, I went -to her and said: - -"How graceful that Baltimore lady is." - -"The Baltimore ladies may have what you call grace and ease," said -she, with the same delicious hauteur, "and the Boston ladies are -very 'strong-minded,'" she continued, in a tone intended for -consuming satire, the more unhappy that it was clear she could make -no claim to either of the qualities--"but the New York women have -_air_," she concluded, and sailed away with what "might be air," -said Herbert, who heard her remark, "but certainly very bad air." - -Learn from this passage of my experience, beloved reader, you who -are for the first time encountering that Sphinx, a New York belle, -that she is not terrible. You shall find her irreproachable in -_tournure_, but it is no more exclusively beautiful or admirable, -than New York is exclusively the fine city of the country. I am a -young man, of course, and inexperienced; but I prefer that lovely -languor of the Southern manners, which is expressed in the -negligence, and sometimes even grotesqueness of dress, to the vapid -superciliousness, which is equally expressed in the coarse grass -cloth that imparts the adorable _Je ne sais quoi_ of _style_. "It is -truly amusing," Herbert says, who has been a far traveler, "to see -these nice New Yorkers assuming that the whole country outside their -city is provincial." A Parisian lady who should affect to treat a -Florentine as a provincial, would be exiled by derision from social -consideration. Fair dames of New York, I am but an anonymous -valedictorian; yet why not make your beauty more beautiful, by that -courtesy which is loftier than disdain, and superior to -superciliousness? - -Ah, well! it was an aromatic evening. Disraeli says that Ferdinand -Armine had a Sicilian conversation with Henrietta Temple, in the -conservatory. You know how it ended, and they knew how it would -end,--they were married. But if Ferdinand had plunged into that -abyss of excitement, knowing that however Sicilian his conversation -might be, it would all end in a bachelor's quarters, with Henrietta -as a lay figure of memory, which he might amuse himself in draping -with a myriad rainbow fancies--if he had known this, ought he to -have advanced farther in the divine darkness of that prospect? Ought -he not to have said, "Dear Miss Temple, my emotions are waxing -serious, and I am afraid of them, and will retire." - -You will say, "certainly," of course. We all say, "certainly," when -we read or talk about it quietly. Young men at Saratoga and Newport -say, "certainly," over their cigars. But when the weed is whiffed -away, they dress for conquest, and draw upon the Future for the -consequences. Unhappily, the Future is perfectly "good," and always -settles to the utmost copper. - -At least, so Herbert says, and he is older than I am. I only -know--in fact, I only cared, that the evening fled away like a -sky-lark singing up to the sun at daybreak--(that was a much -applauded sentence in my valedictory). I deliberately cut every -cable of remorse that might have held me to the "ingenuous course," -as it is called, and drove out into the shoreless sea of enjoyment. -I revelled in Lulu's beauty, in her grace, in her thousand nameless -charms. I was naturally sorry for her. I knew her young affections -would "run to waste, and water but the desert." But if a girl will -do so! Summer and the midsummer sun shone in a cloudless sky. There -was nothing to do but live and love, and Lulu and I did nothing -else. Through the motley aspects of Watering-Place existence, our -life shot like a golden thread, embroidering it with beauty. We -strolled on the piazza at morning and evening. During the forenoon -we sat in the parlor, and Lulu worked a bag or a purse, and I sat by -her, gossiping that gossip which is evanescent as foam upon -champagne--yes, and as odorous and piercing, for the moment it -lasts. We only parted to dress for dinner. I relinquished the Vivian -Grey style, and returned to my own. Every day Lulu was more -exquisitely dressed, and when the band played, after dinner, and the -sunlight lay, golden-green, upon the smooth, thick turf, our -conversation was inspired by the music, as on the first day, which -seemed to me centuries ago, so natural and essential to my life had -Lulu become. Toward sunset we drove to the lake. Sometimes in a -narrow little wagon, not quite wide enough for two, and in which I -sat overdrifted by the azure mist of the dress she wore--nor ever -dreaming of the Autumn or the morrow; and sometimes with Herbert and -his new horses. - -Young America sipping cobblers, and roving about in very loose and -immoral coats, voted it "a case." The elderly ladies thought it a -"shocking flirtation." The old gentlemen who smoke cigars in the -easy chairs under the cool colonnade, watched the course of events -through the slow curling clouds of tobacco, and looked at me, when I -passed them, as if I were juvenile for a Lothario; while the great -dancing, bowling, driving, flirting, and fooling mass of the -Saratoga population thought it all natural and highly improper. - -It is astonishing to recur to an acquaintance which has become a -large and luminous part of your life, and discover that it lasted a -week. It is saddening to sit among the withered rose-leaves of a -summer, and remember that each rose in its prime seemed the sweetest -of roses. The old ladies called it "shocking," and the young ladies -sigh that it is "heartless," and the many condemn, while the few -wrap themselves in scornful pride at the criminal fickleness of men. - -One such I met on a quiet Sunday morning when Lulu had just left me -to go and read to her mother. - -"You are a vain coxcomb," was the promising prelude of my friend's -conversation. But she _was_ a friend, so I did not frown nor play -that I was offended. - -"Why a coxcomb?" - -"Because you are flirting with that girl merely for your own -amusement. You know perfectly well that she loves you, and you know -equally well that you mean nothing. You are a flippant, shallow -Arthur Pendennis--" - -"_Pas trop vite._ If I meet a pleasant person in a pleasant place, -and we like each other, I, for my part, will follow the whim of the -hour. I will live while I live--provided, always, that I injure no -other person in following that plan--and in every fairly supposable -case of this kind the game is equal. Good morning." - -Now you will say that I was afraid to continue the argument, and -that I felt self-convicted of folly. Not at all; but I chanced to -see Lulu returning, and I strolled down the piazza to meet her. - -She was flushed, and tears were ill-concealed in her eyes. Her -mother had apprised her that she was to leave in the morning. It was -all over. - -I did not dare to trust my tongue, but seized her hand a moment, and -then ran for my life--literally for my life. Reaching my room I sat -down in my chair again, and stared upon the floor. I loved Lulu more -than any woman in the world. Yet I remembered precisely similar -occasions before, when I felt as if the sun and life were departing -when certain persons left my side, and I therefore could not trust -my emotion, and run back again and swear absolute and eternal -fidelity. You think I was a great fool, and destitute of feeling, -and better not venture any more into general female society. Perhaps -so. But it was written upon my consciousness suddenly and -dazzlingly, as the mystic words upon Nebuchadnezzar's hall, that -this, though sweet and absorbing, was but a summer fancy--offspring -of sunshine, flowers, and music--not the permanent reality which all -men seek in love. It was one of the characteristic charms of the -summer life. It made the weeks a pleasant Masque of Truth--a -paraphrase of the poetry of Love. I would not avoid it. I would not -fail to sail among the isles of Greece, though but for a summer -day--though Memory might forever yearningly revert to that -delight--conscious of no dishonor, of no more selfishness than in -enjoying a day or a flower--exposed to all the risks to which my -partner in the delirious and delicious game was exposed. - -We met at dinner. We strolled after dinner, and I felt the trembling -of the arm within mine, as we spoke of travel, of Niagara, of -Newport, and of parting. "Lulu," said I, "the pleasure of a -Watering-Place is the meeting with a thousand friends whom we never -saw before, and shall never see again." - -That was the way I began. - -"We meet here, Lulu, like travelers upon a mountain-top, one coming -from the clear, green north, another from the sun-loved south; and -we sit together for an hour talking, each of his own, and each story -by its strangeness fascinating the other hearer. Then we rise, say -farewell, and each pursues his journey alone, yet never forgetting -that meeting on the mountain, and the sweet discourse that charmed -the hours." - -I found myself again delivering valedictory addresses, and to an -audience more moved than the first. - -Yet who would not have had the day upon the mountain! Who would not -once have seen Helen, though he might never see her more? Who would -not wish to prove by a thousand-fold experience Shelley's lines-- - - "True love in this differs from gold to clay, - That to divide is not to take away." - -Lulu said nothing, and we walked silently on. - -"I hate the very name Watering-Place," said she, at length. - -I did not ask her why. - -When the full moonlight came, we went to the ball-room. It is the -way they treat moonlights at a Watering-Place. - -"Yes," said Lulu, "let us die royally, wreathed with flowers." - -And she smiled as she said it. Why did she smile? It was just as we -parted, and mark the result. The moment I suspected that the -flirtation was not all on one side, I discovered--beloved budding -Flirt, male or female, of this summer, you will also discover the -same thing in similar cases--that I was seriously in love. Now that -I fancied there was no reason to blind my eyes to the fact, I stared -directly upon it. - -We went into the hall. It was a wild and melancholy dance that we -danced. There was a frenzy in my movements, for I knew that I was -clasping for the last time the woman for whom my admiring and tender -compassion was by her revelation of superiority to loving me, -suddenly kindled into devotion! She was very beautiful--at least, -she was so to me, and I could not but mark a kind of triumph in her -air, which did not much perplex, but overwhelmed me. At length she -proposed stepping out upon the piazza, and then we walked in the -cool moonlight while I poured out to her the overflowing enthusiasm -of my passion. Lulu listened patiently, and then she said: - -"My good friend (fancy such a beginning in answer to a declaration), -you have much to learn. I thought from what you said this afternoon -that you were profoundly acquainted with the mystery of -Watering-Place life. You remember you delivered a very polished -disquisition on the subject to me--to a woman who, you had every -reason to suppose, was deeply in love with you. My good sir, a -Watering-Place passion, you ought to know, is an affair of sunshine, -music, and flowers. We meet upon a mountain-top, and enjoy -ourselves, then part with longing and regret." - -Here she paused a moment, and my knees smote together. - -"You are a very young man, with very much to learn, and if you mean -to make the tour of the Watering-Places during this or any summer, -you must understand this; and, as Herbert tells me you were a very -moving valedictorian this year, this shall be my moving valedictory -to you, for I leave to-morrow--in all summer encounters of the heart -or head, at any of the leisure resorts where there is nothing to do -but to do nothing, never forget that _all baggage is at the risk of -the owner_." - -And so saying, Lulu slipped her arm from mine, glided up the stairs -into the hall, and the next moment was floating down the room to a -fragrant strain of Strauss. - -I, young reader, remained a few moments bewildered in the moonlight, -and the next morning naturally left Saratoga. I am meditating -whether to go to Newport; but I am sure Lulu is there. Let me advise -you, meanwhile, to beware, let me urge you to adapt the old proverb -to the meridian of a Watering-Place by reversing it--that "whoever -goes out to find a kingdom may return an ass." - - - - -THE MIDNIGHT MASS. - -AN EPISODE IN THE HISTORY OF THE REIGN OF TERROR. - - -About eight o'clock on the night of the 22d of January, 1793, while -the Reign of Terror was still at its height in Paris, an old woman -descended the rapid eminence in that city, which terminates before -the Church of St. Laurent. The snow had fallen so heavily during the -whole day, that the sound of footsteps was scarcely audible. The -streets were deserted; and the fear that silence naturally inspires, -was increased by the general terror which then assailed France. The -old woman passed on her way, without perceiving a living soul in the -streets; her feeble sight preventing her from observing in the -distance, by the lamp-light, several foot passengers, who flitted -like shadows over the vast space of the Faubourg, through which she -was proceeding. She walked on courageously through the solitude, as -if her age were a talisman which could shield her from every -calamity. No sooner, however, had she passed the Rue des Morts, than -she thought she heard the firm and heavy footsteps of a man walking -behind her. It struck her that she had not heard this sound for the -first time. Trembling at the idea of being followed, she quickened -her pace, in order to confirm her suspicions by the rays of light -which proceeded from an adjacent shop. As soon as she had reached -it, she abruptly turned her head, and perceived, through the fog, -the outline of a human form. This indistinct vision was enough: she -shuddered violently the moment she saw it--doubting not that the -stranger had followed her from the moment she had quitted home. But -the desire to escape from a spy soon renewed her courage, and she -quickened her pace, vainly thinking that, by such means, she could -escape from a man necessarily much more active than herself. - -After running for some minutes, she arrived at a pastry-cook's -shop--entered--and sank, rather than sat down, on a chair which -stood before the counter. The moment she raised the latch of the -door, a woman in the shop looked quickly through the windows toward -the street; and, observing the old lady, immediately opened a -drawer in the counter, as if to take out something which she had to -deliver to her. Not only did the gestures and expression of the -young woman show her desire to be quickly relieved of the new-comer, -as of a person whom it was not safe to welcome; but she also let -slip a few words of impatience at finding the drawer empty. -Regardless of the old lady's presence, she unceremoniously quitted -the counter, retired to an inner apartment, and called her husband, -who at once obeyed the summons. - -"Where have you placed the--?" inquired she, with a mysterious air, -glancing toward the visitor, instead of finishing the sentence. - -Although the pastry-cook could only perceive the large hood of black -silk, ornamented with bows of violet-colored ribbon, which formed -the old lady's head-dress, he at once cast a significant look at his -wife, as much as to say, "Could you think me careless enough to -leave what you ask for, in such a place as the shop!" and then -hurriedly disappeared. - -Surprised at the silence and immobility of the stranger lady, the -young woman approached her; and, on beholding her face, experienced -a feeling of compassion--perhaps, we may add, a feeling of curiosity -as well. - -Although the complexion of the old lady was naturally colorless, -like that of one long accustomed to secret austerities, it was easy -to see that a recent emotion had cast over it an additional -paleness. Her head-dress was so disposed as completely to hide her -hair; and thereby to give her face an appearance of religious -severity. At the time of which we write, the manners and habits of -people of quality were so different from those of the lower classes, -that it was easy to identify a person of distinction from outward -appearance alone. Accordingly, the pastry-cook's wife at once -discovered that the strange visitor was an ex-aristocrat--or, as we -should now express it, "a born lady." - -"Madame!" she exclaimed, respectfully, forgetting, at the moment, -that this, like all other titles, was now proscribed under the -Republic. - -The old lady made no answer, but fixed her eyes steadfastly on the -shop windows, as if they disclosed some object that terrified her. - -"What is the matter with you, citizen?" asked the pastry-cook, who -made his appearance at this moment, and disturbed her reverie by -handing her a small pasteboard box, wrapped up in blue paper. - -"Nothing, nothing, my good friends," she replied, softly. While -speaking, she looked gratefully at the pastry-cook; then, observing -on his head the revolutionary red cap, she abruptly exclaimed: "You -are a Republican! you have betrayed me!" - -The pastry-cook and his wife indignantly disclaimed the imputation -by a gesture. The old lady blushed as she noticed it--perhaps with -shame, at having suspected them--perhaps with pleasure, at finding -them trustworthy. - -"Pardon me," said she, with child-like gentleness, drawing from her -pocket a louis d'or. "There," she continued, "there is the -stipulated price." - -There is a poverty which the poor alone can discover. The -pastry-cook and his wife felt the same conviction as they looked at -each other--it was perhaps the last louis d'or which the old lady -possessed. When she offered the coin her hand trembled: she had -gazed upon it with some sorrow, but with no avarice; and yet, in -giving it, she seemed to be fully aware that she was making a -sacrifice. The shop-keepers, equally moved by pity and interest, -began by comforting their consciences with civil words. - -"You seem rather poorly, citizen," said the pastry-cook. - -"Would you like to take any refreshment, madame?" interrupted his -wife. - -"We have some excellent soup," continued the husband. - -"The cold has perhaps affected you, madame," resumed the young -woman; "pray, step in, and sit and warm yourself by our fire." - -"We may be Republicans," observed the pastry-cook; "but the devil is -not always so black as he is painted." - -Encouraged by the kind words addressed to her by the shop-keepers, -the old lady confessed that she had been followed by a strange man, -and that she was afraid to return home by herself. - -"Is that all?" replied the valiant pastry-cook. "I'll be ready to go -home with you in a minute, citizen." - -He gave the louis d'or to his wife, and then--animated by that sort -of gratitude which all tradesmen feel at receiving a large price for -an article of little value--hastened to put on his National Guard's -uniform, and soon appeared in complete military array. In the mean -while, however, his wife had found time to reflect; and in her case, -as in many others, reflection closed the open hand of charity. -Apprehensive that her husband might be mixed up in some -misadventure, she tried hard to detain him; but, strong in his -benevolent impulse, the honest fellow persisted in offering himself -as the old lady's escort. - -"Do you imagine, madame, that the man you are so much afraid of, is -still waiting outside the shop?" asked the young woman. - -"I feel certain of it," replied the lady. - -"Suppose he should be a spy! Suppose the whole affair should be a -conspiracy! Don't go! Get back the box we gave her." These words -whispered to the pastry-cook by his wife, had the effect of cooling -his courage with extraordinary rapidity. - -"I'll just say two words to that mysterious personage outside, and -relieve you of all annoyance immediately," said he, hastily quitting -the shop. - -The old lady, passive as a child, and half-bewildered, reseated -herself. - -The pastry-cook was not long before he returned. His face, which was -naturally ruddy, had turned quite pale; he was so panic-stricken, -that his legs trembled under him, and his eyes rolled like the eyes -of a drunken man. - -"Are you trying to get our throats cut for us, you rascally -aristocrat?" cried he, furiously. "Do you think you can make _me_ -the tool of a conspiracy? Quick! show us your heels! and never let -us see your face again!" - -So saying, he endeavored to snatch away the box, which the old lady -had placed in her pocket. No sooner, however, had his hands touched -her dress, than, preferring any perils in the street to losing the -treasure for which she had just paid so large a price, she darted -with the activity of youth toward the door, opened it violently, and -disappeared in a moment from the eyes of the bewildered shopkeepers. - -Upon gaining the street again, she walked at her utmost speed; but -her strength soon failed, when she heard the spy who had so -remorselessly followed her, crunching the snow under his heavy -tread. She involuntarily stopped short: the man stopped short too! -At first, her terror prevented her from speaking, or looking round -at him; but it is in the nature of us all--even of the most -infirm--to relapse into comparative calm immediately after violent -agitation; for, though our feelings may be unbounded, the organs -which express them have their limits. Accordingly, the old lady, -finding that she experienced no particular annoyance from her -imaginary persecutor, willingly tried to convince herself that he -might be a secret friend, resolved at all hazards to protect her. -She reconsidered the circumstances which had attended the stranger's -appearance, and soon contrived to persuade herself that his object -in following her, was much more likely to be a good than an evil -one. - -Forgetful, therefore, of the fear with which he had inspired the -pastry-cook, she now went on her way with greater confidence. After -a walk of half an hour, she arrived at a house situated at the -corner of a street leading to the Barrière Pantin--even at the -present day, the most deserted locality in all Paris. A cold -northeasterly wind whistled sharply across the few houses, or rather -tenements, scattered about this almost uninhabited region. The place -seemed, from its utter desolation, the natural asylum of penury and -despair. - -The stranger, who still resolutely dogged the poor old lady's steps, -seemed struck with the scene on which his eyes now rested. He -stopped--erect, thoughtful, and hesitating--his figure feebly -lighted by a lamp, the uncertain rays of which scarcely penetrated -the fog. Fear had quickened the old lady's eyes. She now thought she -perceived something sinister in the features of the stranger. All -her former terrors returned and she took advantage of the man's -temporary indecision, to steal away in the darkness toward the door -of a solitary house. She pressed a spring under the latch, and -disappeared with the rapidity of a phantom. - -The stranger, still standing motionless, contemplated the house, -which bore the same appearance of misery as the rest of the -Faubourg. Built of irregular stones, and stuccoed with yellowish -plaster, it seemed, from the wide cracks in the walls, as if a -strong gust of wind would bring the crazy building to the ground. -The roof, formed of brown tiles, long since covered with moss, was -so sunk in several places that it threatened to give way under the -weight of snow which now lay upon it. Each story had three windows, -the frames of which, rotted with damp and disjointed by the heat of -the sun, showed how bitterly the cold must penetrate into the -apartments. The comfortless, isolated dwelling resembled some old -tower which Time had forgotten to destroy. One faint light glimmered -from the windows of the gable in which the top of the building -terminated; the remainder of the house was plunged in the deepest -obscurity. - -Meanwhile, the old woman ascended with some difficulty a rude and -dilapidated flight of stairs, assisting herself by a rope, which -supplied the place of bannisters. She knocked mysteriously at the -door of one of the rooms situated on the garret-floor, was quickly -let in by an old man, and then sank down feebly into a chair which -he presented to her. - -"Hide yourself! Hide yourself!" she exclaimed. "Seldom as we venture -out, our steps have been traced; our proceedings are known!" - -"What is the matter?" asked another old woman, seated near the fire. - -"The man whom we have seen loitering about the house since -yesterday, has followed me this evening," she replied. - -At these words, the three inmates of the miserable abode looked -on each other in silent terror. The old man was the least -agitated--perhaps for the very reason that his danger was really the -greatest. When tried by heavy affliction, or threatened by bitter -persecution, the first principle of a courageous man is, at all -times, to contemplate calmly the sacrifice of himself for the safety -of others. The expression in the faces of his two companions showed -plainly, as they looked on the old man, that _he_ was the sole -object of their most vigilant solicitude. - -"Let us not distrust the goodness of God, my sisters," said he, in -grave, reassuring tones. "We sang His praises even in the midst of -the slaughter that raged through our Convent. If it was His -good-will that I should be saved from the fearful butchery committed -in that holy place by the Republicans, it was no doubt to reserve me -for another destiny, which I must accept without a murmur. God -watches over His chosen, and disposes of them as seems best to His -good-will. Think of yourselves, my sisters--think not of me!" - -"Impossible!" said one of the women. "What are _our_ lives--the -lives of two poor nuns--in comparison with _yours_; in comparison -with the life of a priest?" - -"Here, father," said the old nun, who had just returned; "here are -the consecrated wafers of which you sent me in search." She handed -him the box which she had received from the pastry-cook. - -"Hark!" cried the other nun; "I hear footsteps coming up-stairs." - -They all listened intently. The noise of footsteps ceased. - -"Do not alarm yourselves," said the priest. "Whatever happens, I -have already engaged a person, on whose fidelity we can depend, to -escort you in safety over the frontier; to rescue you from the -martyrdom which the ferocious will of Robespierre and his coadjutors -of the Reign of Terror would decree against every servant of the -church." - -"Do _you_ not mean to accompany us?" asked the two nuns, -affrightedly. - -"_My_ place, sisters, is with the martyrs--not with the saved," said -the old priest, calmly. - -"Hark! the steps on the staircase!--the heavy steps we heard -before!" cried the women. - -This time it was easy to distinguish, in the midst of the silence of -night, the echoing sound of footsteps on the stone stairs. The nuns, -as they heard it approach nearer and nearer, forced the priest into -a recess at one end of the room, closed the door, and hurriedly -heaped some old clothes against it. The moment after, they were -startled by three distinct knocks at the outer door. - -The person who demanded admittance appeared to interpret the -terrified silence which had seized the nuns on hearing his knock, -into a signal to enter. He opened the door himself, and the -affrighted women immediately recognized him as the man whom they had -detected watching the house--the spy who had watched one of them -through the streets that night. - -The stranger was tall and robust, but there was nothing in his -features or general appearance to denote that he was a dangerous -man. Without attempting to break the silence, he slowly looked round -the room. Two bundles of straw, strewn upon boards, served as a bed -for the two nuns. In the centre of the room was a table, on which -were placed a copper-candlestick, some plates, three knives, and a -loaf of bread. There was but a small fire in the grate, and the -scanty supply of wood piled near it, plainly showed the poverty of -the inmates. The old walls, which at some distant period had been -painted, indicated the miserable state of the roof, by the patches -of brown streaked across them by the rain, which had filtered, drop -by drop, through the ceiling. A sacred relic, saved probably from -the pillage of the convent to which the two nuns and the priest had -been attached, was placed on the chimney-piece. Three chairs, two -boxes, and an old chest-of-drawers completed the furniture of the -apartment. - -At one corner near the mantle-shelf, a door had been constructed -which indicated that there was a second room in that direction. - -An expression of pity appeared on the countenance of the stranger, -as his eyes fell on the two nuns, after having surveyed their -wretched apartment. He was the first to break the strange silence -that had hitherto prevailed, by addressing the two poor creatures -before him in such tones of kindness as were best adapted to the -nervous terror under which they were evidently suffering. - -"Citizens!" he began, "I do not come to you as an enemy." He stopped -for a moment, and then continued: "If any misfortune has befallen -you, rest assured that I am not the cause of it. My only object here -is to ask a great favor of you." - -The nuns still kept silence. - -"If my presence causes you any anxiety," he went on, "tell me so at -once, and I will depart; but, believe me, I am really devoted to -your interests; and if there is any thing in which I can befriend -you, you may confide in me without fear. I am, perhaps, the only man -in Paris whom the law can not assail, now that the kings of France -are no more." - -There was such a tone of sincerity in these words, as he spoke them, -that Sister Agatha (the nun to whom the reader was introduced at the -outset of this narrative, and whose manners exhibited all the court -refinement of the old school) instinctively pointed to one of the -chairs, as if to request the stranger to be seated. His expression -showed a mixture of satisfaction and melancholy, as he acknowledged -this little attention, of which he did not take advantage until the -nuns had first seated themselves. - -"You have given an asylum here," continued he, "to a venerable -priest, who has miraculously escaped from massacre at a Carmelite -convent." - -"Are you the person," asked Sister Agatha, eagerly, "appointed to -protect our flight from--?" - -"I am not the person whom you expected to see," he replied, calmly. - -"I assure you, sir," interrupted the other nun, anxiously, "that we -have no priest here; we have not, indeed." - -"You had better be a little more careful about appearances on a -future occasion," he replied, gently, taking from the table a Latin -breviary. "May I ask if you are both in the habit of reading the -Latin language?" he inquired, with a slight inflexion of sarcasm in -his voice. - -No answer was returned. Observing the anguish depicted on the -countenance of the nuns, the trembling of their limbs, the tears -that filled their eyes, the stranger began to fear that he had gone -too far. - -"Compose yourselves," he continued, frankly. "For three days I have -been acquainted with the state of distress in which you are living. -I know your names, and the name of the venerable priest whom you are -concealing. It is--" - -"Hush! do not speak it," cried Sister Agatha, placing her finger on -her lips. - -"I have now said enough," he went on, "to show that if I had -conceived the base design of betraying you, I could have -accomplished my object before now." - -On the utterance of these words, the priest, who had heard all that -had passed, left his hiding-place, and appeared in the room. - -"I can not believe, sir," said he, "that you are leagued with my -persecutors; and I therefore willingly confide in you. What do you -require of me?" - -The noble confidence of the priest--the saint-like purity expressed -in his features--must have struck even an assassin with respect. The -mysterious personage who had intruded on the scene of misery and -resignation which the garret presented, looked silently for a moment -on the three beings before him, and then, in tones of secrecy, thus -addressed the priest: - -"Father, I come to entreat you to celebrate a mortuary mass for the -repose of the soul of--of a--of a person whose life the laws once -held sacred, but whose corpse will never rest in holy ground." - -An involuntary shudder seized the priest, as he guessed the hidden -meaning in these words. The nuns unable to imagine what person was -indicated by the stranger, looked on him with equal curiosity and -alarm. - -"Your wish shall be granted," said the priest, in low, awe-struck -tones. "Return to this place at midnight, and you will find me ready -to celebrate the only funeral service which the church can offer in -expiation of the crime to which I understand you to allude." - -The stranger trembled violently for a moment, then composed himself, -respectfully saluted the priest and the two nuns, and departed -without uttering a word. - -About two hours afterward, a soft knock at the outer door announced -the mysterious visitor's return. He was admitted by Sister Agatha, -who conducted him into the second apartment of their modest retreat, -where every thing had been prepared for the midnight mass. Near the -fire-place the nuns had placed their old chest of drawers, the -clumsy workmanship of which was concealed under a rich altar-cloth -of green velvet. A large crucifix, formed of ivory and ebony was -hung against the bare plaster wall. Four small tapers, fixed by -sealing-wax on the temporary altar, threw a faint and mysterious -gleam over the crucifix, but hardly penetrated to any other part of -the walls of the room. Thus almost exclusively confined to the -sacred objects immediately above and around it, the glow from the -tapers looked like a light falling from heaven itself on that -unadorned and unpretending altar. The floor of the room was damp. -The miserable roof, sloping on either side, was pierced with rents, -through which the cold night air penetrated into the rooms. Nothing -could be less magnificent, and yet nothing could be more truly -solemn than the manner in which the preliminaries of the funeral -ceremony had been arranged. A deep, dread silence, through which the -slightest noise in the street could be heard, added to the dreary -grandeur of the midnight scene--a grandeur majestically expressed by -the contrast between the homeliness of the temporary church, and the -solemnity of the service to which it was now devoted. On each side -of the altar, the two aged women kneeling on the tiled floor, -unmindful of its deadly dampness, were praying in concert with the -priest, who, clothed in his sacerdotal robes, raised on high a -golden chalice, adorned with precious stones, the most sacred of the -few relics saved from the pillage of the Carmelite Convent. - -The stranger, approaching after an interval, knelt reverently -between the two nuns. As he looked up toward the crucifix, he saw, -for the first time, that a piece of black crape was attached to it. -On beholding this simple sign of mourning, terrible recollections -appeared to be awakened within him; the big drops of agony started -thick and fast on his massive brow. - -Gradually, as the four actors in this solemn scene still fervently -prayed together, their souls began to sympathize the one with the -other, blending in one common feeling of religious awe. Awful, in -truth, was the service in which they were now secretly engaged! -Beneath that mouldering roof, those four Christians were then -interceding with Heaven for the soul of a martyred King of France; -performing, at the peril of their lives, in those days of anarchy -and terror, a funeral service for that hapless Louis the Sixteenth, -who died on the scaffold, who was buried without a coffin or a -shroud! It was, in them, the purest of all acts of devotion--the -purest, from its disinterestedness, from its courageous fidelity. -The last relics of the loyalty of France were collected in that poor -room, enshrined in the prayers of a priest and two aged women. -Perhaps, too, the dark spirit of the Revolution was present there as -well, impersonated by the stranger, whose face, while he knelt -before the altar, betrayed an expression of the most poignant -remorse. - -The most gorgeous mass ever celebrated in the gorgeous Cathedral of -St. Peter, at Rome, could not have expressed the sincere feeling of -prayer so nobly as it was now expressed, by those four persons, -under that lowly roof! - -There was one moment, during the progress of the service, at which -the nuns detected that tears were trickling fast over the stranger's -cheeks. It was when the Pater Noster was said. - -On the termination of the midnight mass, the priest made a sign to -the two nuns, who immediately left the room. As soon as they were -alone, he thus addressed the stranger: - -"My son, if you have imbrued your hands in the blood of the martyred -king, confide in me, and in my sacred office. Repentance so deep and -sincere as yours appears to be, may efface even the crime of -regicide in the eyes of God." - -"Holy father," replied the other, in trembling accents, "no man is -less guilty than I am of shedding the king's blood." - -"I would fain believe you," answered the priest. He paused for a -moment as he said this, looked steadfastly on the penitent man -before him, and then continued: - -"But remember, my son, you can not be absolved of the crime of -regicide, because you have not co-operated in it. Those who had the -power of defending their king, and who, having that power, still -left the sword in the scabbard, will be called to render a heavy -account at the day of judgment, before the King of kings; yes, a -heavy and an awful account indeed! for, in remaining passive, they -became the involuntary accomplices of the worst of murders." - -"Do you think then, father," murmured the stranger, deeply abashed, -"that all indirect participations are visited with punishment? Is -the soldier guilty of the death of Louis who obeyed the order to -guard the scaffold?" - -The priest hesitated. - -"I should be ashamed," continued the other, betraying by his -expression some satisfaction at the dilemma in which he had placed -the old man--"I should be ashamed of offering you any pecuniary -recompense for such a funeral service as you have celebrated. It is -only possible to repay an act so noble by an offering which is -priceless. Honor me by accepting this sacred relic. The day perhaps -will come when you will understand its value." - -So saying, he presented to the priest a small box, extremely light -in weight, which the aged ecclesiastic took, as it were, -involuntarily; for he felt awed by the solemn tones in which the man -spoke as he offered it. Briefly expressing his thanks for the -mysterious present, the priest conducted his guest into the outer -room, where the two nuns remained in attendance. - -"The house you now inhabit," said the stranger, addressing the nuns -as well as the priest, "belongs to a landlord who outwardly affects -extreme republicanism, but who is at heart devoted to the royal -cause. He was formerly a huntsman in the service of one of the -Bourbons, the Prince de Condé, to whom he is indebted for all that -he possesses. So long as you remain in this house you are safer than -in any other place in France. Remain here, therefore. Persons worthy -of trust will supply all your necessities, and you will be able to -await in safety the prospect of better times. In a year from this -day, on the 21st of January, should you still remain the occupants -of this miserable abode, I will return to repeat with you the -celebration of to-night's expiatory mass." He paused abruptly, and -bowed without adding another word; then delayed a moment more, to -cast a parting look on the objects of poverty which surrounded him, -and left the room. - -To the two simple-minded nuns, the whole affair had all the interest -of a romance. Their faces displayed the most intense anxiety, the -moment the priest informed them of the mysterious gift which the -stranger had so solemnly presented to him. Sister Agatha immediately -opened the box, and discovered in it a handkerchief, made of the -finest cambric, and soiled with marks of perspiration. They unfolded -it eagerly, and then found that it was defaced in certain places -with dark stains. - -"Those stains are _blood stains_!" exclaimed the priest. - -"The handkerchief is marked with the royal crown!" cried Sister -Agatha. - -Both the nuns dropped the precious relic, marked by the King's -blood, with horror. To their simple minds, the mystery which was -attached to the stranger, now deepened fearfully. As for the priest, -from that moment he ceased, even in thought, to attempt identifying -his visitor, or discovering the means by which he had become -possessed of the royal handkerchief. - -Throughout the atrocities practiced during a year of the Reign of -Terror, the three refugees were safely guarded by the same -protecting interference, ever at work for their advantage. At first, -they received large supplies of fuel and provisions; then the two -nuns found reason to imagine that one of their own sex had become -associated with their invisible protector, for they were furnished -with the necessary linen and clothing which enabled them to go out -without attracting attention by any peculiarities of attire. Besides -this, warnings of danger constantly came to the priest in the most -unexpected manner, and always opportunely. And then, again, in spite -of the famine which at that period afflicted Paris, the inhabitants -of the garret were sure to find placed every morning at their door, -a supply of the best wheaten bread, regularly left for them by some -invisible hand. - -They could only guess that the agent of the charitable attentions -thus lavished on them, was the landlord of the house, and that the -person by whom he was employed was no other than the stranger who -had celebrated with them the funeral mass for the repose of the -King's soul. Thus, this mysterious man was regarded with especial -reverence by the priest and the nuns, whose lives for the present, -and whose hopes for the future, depended on their strange visitor. -They added to their usual prayers at night and morning, prayers for -_him_. - -At length the long-expected night of the 21st of January arrived, -and, exactly as the clock struck twelve, the sound of heavy -footsteps on the stairs announced the approach of the stranger. The -room had been carefully prepared for his reception, the altar had -been arranged, and, on this occasion, the nuns eagerly opened the -door, even before they heard the knock. - -"Welcome back again! most welcome!" cried they; "we have been most -anxiously awaiting you." - -The stranger raised his head, looked gloomily on the nuns, and made -no answer. Chilled by his cold reception of their kind greeting, -they did not venture to utter another word. He seemed to have frozen -at their hearts, in an instant, all the gratitude, all the friendly -aspirations of the long year that had passed. They now perceived but -too plainly that their visitor desired to remain a complete stranger -to them, and that they must resign all hope of ever making a friend -of him. The old priest fancied he had detected a smile on the lips -of their guest when he entered, but that smile--if it had really -appeared--vanished again the moment he observed the preparations -which had been made for his reception. He knelt to hear the funeral -mass, prayed fervently as before, and then abruptly took his -departure; briefly declining, by a few civil words, to partake of -the simple refreshment offered to him, on the expiration of the -service, by the two nuns. - -Day after day wore on, and nothing more was heard of the stranger by -the inhabitants of the garret. After the fall of Robespierre, the -church was delivered from all actual persecution, and the priest and -the nuns were free to appear publicly in Paris, without the -slightest risk of danger. One of the first expeditions undertaken by -the aged ecclesiastic led him to a perfumer's shop, kept by a man -who had formerly been one of the Court tradesmen, and who had always -remained faithful to the Royal Family. The priest, clothed once more -in his clerical dress, was standing at the shop door talking to the -perfumer, when he observed a great crowd rapidly advancing along the -street. - -"What is the matter yonder?" he inquired of the shopkeeper. - -"Nothing," replied the man carelessly, "but the cart with the -condemned criminals going to the place of execution. Nobody pities -them--and nobody ought!" - -"You are not speaking like a Christian," exclaimed the priest. "Why -not pity them?" - -"Because," answered the perfumer, "those men who are going to the -execution are the last accomplices of Robespierre. They only travel -the same fatal road which their innocent victims took before them." - -The cart with the prisoners condemned to the guillotine had by this -time arrived opposite the perfumer's shop. As the old priest looked -curiously toward the state criminals, he saw, standing erect and -undaunted among his drooping fellow prisoners, the very man at whose -desire he had twice celebrated the funeral service for the martyred -King of France! - -"Who is that standing upright in the cart?" cried the priest, -breathlessly. - -The perfumer looked in the direction indicated, and answered-- - -"THE EXECUTIONER OF LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH!" - - - - -PERSONAL HABITS AND APPEARANCE OF ROBESPIERRE. - - -Visionaries are usually slovens. They despise fashions, and imagine -that dirtiness is an attribute of genius. To do the honorable member -for Artois justice, he was above this affectation. Small and neat in -person, he always appeared in public tastefully dressed, according -to the fashion of the period--hair well combed back, frizzled, and -powdered; copious frills at the breast and wrists; a stainless white -waistcoat; light-blue coat, with metal buttons; the sash of a -representative tied round his waist; light-colored breeches, white -stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. Such was his ordinary -costume; and if we stick a rose in his button-hole, or place a -nosegay in his hand, we shall have a tolerable idea of his whole -equipment. It is said he sometimes appeared in top-boots, which is -not improbable; for this kind of boot had become fashionable among -the republicans, from a notion that as top-boots were worn by -gentlemen in England, they were allied to constitutional government. -Robespierre's features were sharp, and enlivened by bright and -deeply-sunk blue eyes. There was usually a gravity and intense -thoughtfulness in his countenance, which conveyed an idea of his -being thoroughly in earnest. Yet, his address was not unpleasing. -Unlike modern French politicians, his face was always smooth, with -no vestige of beard or whiskers. Altogether, therefore, he may be -said to have been a well-dressed, gentlemanly man, animated with -proper self-respect, and having no wish to court vulgar applause by -neglecting the decencies of polite society. - -Before entering on his public career in Paris, Robespierre had -probably formed his plans, in which, at least to outward appearance, -there was an entire negation of self. A stern incorruptibility -seemed the basis of his character; and it is quite true that no -offers from the court, no overtures from associates, had power to -tempt him. There was only one way by which he could sustain a -high-souled independence, and that was the course adopted in like -circumstances by Andrew Marvel--simple wants, rigorous economy, a -disregard of fine company, an avoidance of expensive habits. Now, -this is the curious thing in Robespierre's history. Perhaps there -was a tinge of pride in his living a life of indigence; but in -fairness it is entitled to be called an honest pride, when we -consider that the means of profusion were within his reach. On his -arrival in Paris, he procured a humble lodging in the Marais, a -populous district in the northeastern faubourgs; but it being -represented to him sometime afterward, that, as a public man, it was -unsafe to expose himself in a long walk daily to and fro from this -obscure residence, he removed to a house in the Rue St. Honoré, now -marked No. 396, opposite the Church of the Assumption. Here he found -a lodging with M. Duplay, a respectable but humble cabinet-maker, -who had become attached to the principles of the Revolution; and -here he was joined by his brother, who played an inferior part in -public affairs, and is known in history as "the Younger -Robespierre." The selection of this dwelling seems to have fallen in -with Robespierre's notions of economy; and it suited his limited -patrimony, which consisted of some rents irregularly paid by a few -small farmers of his property in Artois. These ill-paid rents, with -his salary as a representative, are said to have supported three -persons--himself, his brother, and his sister; and so straitened was -he in circumstances, that he had to borrow occasionally from his -landlord. Even with all his pinching, he did not make both ends -meet. We have it on authority, that at his death he was owing £160; -a small debt to be incurred during a residence of five years in -Paris, by a person who figured as a leader of parties; and the -insignificance of this sum attests his remarkable self-denial. - -Lamartine's account of the private life of Robespierre in the house -of the Duplays is exceedingly fascinating, and we should suppose is -founded on well-authorized facts. "The house of Duplay," he says, -"was low, and in a court surrounded by sheds filled with timber and -plants, and had almost a rustic appearance. It consisted of a parlor -opening to the court, and communicating with a sitting-room that -looked into a small garden. From the sitting-room a door led into a -small study, in which was a piano. There was a winding staircase to -the first floor, where the master of the house lived, and thence to -the apartment of Robespierre." - -Here, long acquaintance, a common table, and association for several -years, "converted the hospitality of Duplay into an attachment that -became reciprocal. The family of his landlord became a second family -to Robespierre, and while they adopted his opinions, they neither -lost the simplicity of their manners nor neglected their religious -observances. They consisted of a father, mother, a son yet a youth, -and four daughters, the eldest of whom was twenty-five, and the -youngest eighteen. Familiar with the father, filial with the mother, -paternal with the son, tender and almost brotherly with the young -girls, he inspired and felt in this small domestic circle all those -sentiments that only an ardent soul inspires and feels by spreading -abroad its sympathies. Love also attached his heart, where toil, -poverty, and retirement had fixed his life. Eléonore Duplay, the -eldest daughter of his host, inspired Robespierre with a more -serious attachment than her sisters. The feeling, rather -predilection than passion, was more reasonable on the part of -Robespierre, more ardent and simple on the part of the young girl. -This affection afforded him tenderness without torment, happiness -without excitement: it was the love adapted for a man plunged all -day in the agitation of public life--a repose of the heart after -mental fatigue. He and Eléonore lived in the same house as a -betrothed couple, not as lovers. Robespierre had demanded the young -girl's hand from her parents, and they had promised it to him. - -"'The total want of fortune,' he said, 'and the uncertainty of the -morrow, prevented him from marrying her until the destiny of France -was determined; but he only awaited the moment when the Revolution -should be concluded, in order to retire from the turmoil and strife, -marry her whom he loved, go to reside with her in Artois, on one of -the farms he had saved among the possessions of his family, and -there to mingle his obscure happiness in the common lot of his -family.' - -"The vicissitudes of the fortune, influence, and popularity of -Robespierre effected no change in his simple mode of living. The -multitude came to implore favor or life at the door of his house, -yet nothing found its way within. The private lodging of Robespierre -consisted of a low chamber, constructed in the form of a garret, -above some cart-sheds, with the window opening upon the roof. It -afforded no other prospect than the interior of a small court, -resembling a wood-store, where the sounds of the workmen's hammers -and saws constantly resounded, and which was continually traversed -by Madame Duplay and her daughters, who there performed all their -household duties. This chamber was also separated from that of the -landlord by a small room common to the family and himself. On the -other side were two rooms, likewise attics, which were inhabited, -one by the son of the master of the house, the other by Simon -Duplay, Robespierre's secretary, and the nephew of his host. - -"The chamber of the deputy contained only a wooden bedstead, covered -with blue damask ornamented with white flowers, a table, and four -straw-bottomed chairs. This apartment served him at once for a study -and dormitory. His papers, his reports, the manuscripts of his -discourses, written by himself in a regular but labored hand, and -with many marks of erasure, were placed carefully on deal-shelves -against the wall. A few chosen books were also ranged thereon. A -volume of Jean Jacques Rousseau or of Racine was generally open -upon his table, and attested his philosophical and literary -predilections." - -With a mind continually on the stretch, and concerned less or more -in all the great movements of the day, the features of this -remarkable personage "relaxed into absolute gayety when in-doors at -table, or in the evening around the wood-fire in the humble chamber -of the cabinet-maker. His evenings were all passed with the family, -in talking over the feelings of the day, the plans of the morrow, -the conspiracies of the aristocrats, the dangers of the patriots, -and the prospects of public felicity after the triumph of the -Revolution. Sometimes Robespierre, who was anxious to cultivate the -mind of his betrothed, read to the family aloud, and generally from -the tragedies of Racine. He seldom went out in the evening; but two -or three times a year he escorted Madame Duplay and her daughter to -the theatre. On other days, Robespierre retired early to his -chamber, lay down, and rose again at night to work. The innumerable -discourses he had delivered in the two national assemblies, and to -the Jacobins; the articles written for his journal while he had one; -the still more numerous manuscripts of speeches which he had -prepared, but never delivered; the studied style, so remarkable; -the indefatigable corrections marked with his pen upon the -manuscripts--attest his watchings and his determination. - -"His only relaxations were solitary walks in imitation of his model, -Jean Jacques Rousseau. His sole companion in these perambulations -was his great dog, which slept at his chamber-door, and always -followed him when he went out. This colossal animal, well known in -the district, was called Brount. Robespierre was much attached to -him, and constantly played with him. Occasionally, on a Sunday, all -the family left Paris with Robespierre; and the politician, once -more the man, amused himself with the mother, the sisters, and the -brother of Eléonore in the wood of Versailles or of Issy." Strange -contradiction! The man who is thus described as so amiable, so -gentle, so satisfied with the humble pleasures of an obscure family -circle, went forth daily on a self-imposed mission of turbulence and -terror. - - - - -THE TWO SISTERS. - - -You sometimes find in the same family, children of the same parents, -who in all respects present the most striking contrast. They not -only seem to be of different parentage, but of different races; -unlike in physical conformation, in complexion, in features, in -temperament, and in moral and intellectual qualities. They are -sometimes to be found diametrically opposed to each other in tastes, -pursuits, habits, and sympathies, though brought up under the same -parental eye, subject to the same circumstances and conditions, and -educated by the same teachers. Indeed, education does comparatively -little toward the formation of character--that is to say, in the -determination of the _individuality_ of character. It merely brings -out, or _e-duces_ that character, the germs of which are born in us, -and only want proper sunning, and warmth, and geniality, to bring -them to maturity. - -You could scarcely have imagined that Elizabeth and Jane Byfield -were in any way related to each other. They had not a feature in -common. The one was a brilliant beauty, the other was plain in the -extreme. Elizabeth had a dazzling complexion, bright, speaking eyes, -an oval face, finely turned nose and chin, a mouth as pouting as if -"a bee had stung it newly;" she was tall and lithe; taper, yet -rounded--in short, she was a regular beauty, the belle of her -neighborhood, pursued by admirers, besonneted by poetasters, -serenaded by musical amateurs, toasted by spirit-loving old fogy -bachelors, and last, but not least, she was the subject of many a -tit-bit piece of scandal among her young lady rivals in the -country-town of Barkstone. - -As for her sister Jane, with her demure, old-maidish air, her little -dumpy, thick-set figure, her _retroussé_ nose, and dingy features, -nobody bestowed a thought upon her. She had no rival, she was no -one's competitor, she offended nobody's sense of individual prowess -in grace or charms, by _her_ assumptions. Not at all. "That horrid -little fright, Jane Byfield," as some of her stylish acquaintances -would speak of her, behind her back, stood in no young lady's way. -She was very much of a house-bird, was Jane. In the evenings, while -her sister was dashing off some brilliant bravura in the -drawing-room, Jane would be seated in a corner, talking to some -person older than herself--or, perhaps you might find her in the -little back parlor, knitting or mending stockings. Not that she was -without a spice of fun in her; for, among children, she romped like -one of themselves; indeed, she was a general favorite with those who -were much younger as well as much older than herself. Yet, among -those of her own age, she never excited any admiration, except for -her dutifulness--though that, you know, is a very dull sort of -thing. Certainly, she never excited any young lady's envy, or -attracted any young gentleman's homage, like her more highly favored -sister. Indeed, by a kind of general consent, she was set down for -"a regular old maid." - -I wish I could have told my readers that Jane got married after all, -and disappointed the prophetic utterances of her friends. I am sure -that, notwithstanding her plainness, she would have made a thrifty -manager and a thorough good housewife. But, as I am relating a true -history, I can not thus indulge my readers. Jane remained single; -but her temper continued unruffled. As she did not expect, so she -was not disappointed. She preserved her cheerfulness, continued to -be useful, kept her heart warm and her head well stored--for she was -a great reader--another of her "old-maidish" habits, though, -fortunately, the practice of reading good books by young women is -now ceasing to be "singular:" readers are now of the plural number, -and every day adds to the list. - -But what of Elizabeth--the beauty? Oh, she got married--of course -she did. The beautiful are always sought after, often when they have -nothing but their beauty to recommend them. And, after all, we can -not wonder at this. Nature has so ordered it, that beauty of person -must command admirers; and, where beauty of heart and beauty of -intellect are joined together in the person of a beautiful woman, -really nothing in nature can be more charming. And so Elizabeth got -married; and a "good match" she made, as the saying is, -with a gentleman in extensive business, rather stylish, but -prosperous--likely to get on in the world, and to accumulate a -fortune. But the fortune was to make, and the business was -speculative. Those in business well know that it is not all gold -that glitters. - -The married life of the "happy pair" commenced. First one, and then -another "toddling wee thing" presented itself in the young mother's -household, and the mother's cares and responsibilities multiplied. -But, to tell the truth, Elizabeth, though a beauty, was not a very -good manager. She could sit at the head of her husband's table, and -do the honors of the house to perfection. But look into her -wardrobe, into her drawers, into her kitchen, and you would say at -once, there was the want of the managing head, and the ready hand. A -good housewife, like a good poet, is "born, not made"--_nascitur non -fit_. It's true. There are some women whom no measure of drilling -can convert into good housewives. They may lay down systems, -cultivate domesticity, study tidying, spending, house-drilling, as -an art, and yet they can not acquire it. To others it comes without -effort, without consciousness, as a kind of second nature. They are -"to the manner born." They don't know how it is themselves. Yet -their hand seems to shed abroad order, regularity, and peace, in the -household. Under their eye, and without any seeming effort on their -part, every thing falls into its proper place, and every thing is -done at its proper time. Elizabeth did not know how it was; yet, -somehow, she could not get servants like any body else (how often -imperfect management is set down to account of "bad servants!"); she -could not get things to go smoothly; there was always something -"getting across;" the house got out of order; dinners were not ready -at the right time, and then the husband grew querulous; somehow, the -rooms could not be kept very tidy, for the mistress of the household -having her hands full of children, of course she "could not attend -to every thing;" and, in short, poor Elizabeth's household was fast -getting into a state of muddle. - -Now, husbands don't like this state of things, and so, the result of -it was, that Elizabeth's husband, though not a bad-natured man, -sometimes grew cross and complaining, and the beautiful wife found -that her husband had "a temper"--as who has not? And about the same -time, the husband found that his wife was "no manager," -notwithstanding her good looks. Though his wife studied economy, yet -he discovered that, somehow, she got through a deal of money, and -yet there was little comfort got in exchange for it. Things were -evidently in a bad way, and going wrong entirely. What might have -been the end, who knows? But, happily, at this juncture, aunt Jane, -the children's pet, the "little droll old maid," appeared on the -stage; and though sisters are not supposed to be of good omen in -other sisters' houses, certainly it must be admitted that, in this -case, the "old maid" at once worked a wonderful charm. - -The quiet creature, in a few weeks, put quite a new feature on the -face of affairs. Under her eye, things seemed at once to fall into -their proper places--without the slightest "ordering," or bustling, -or noise, or palaver. Elizabeth could not make out how it was, but -sure enough Jane "had _such_ a way with her," and always had. The -positions of the sisters seemed now to be reversed. Jane was looked -up to by her sister, who no longer assumed those airs of -superiority, which, in the pride of her beauty and attractiveness, -had come so natural to her. Elizabeth had ceased to be competed for -by rival admirers; and she now discovered that the fleeting charms -of her once beautiful person could not atone for the want of those -more solid qualities which are indispensable in the house and the -home. What made Jane's presence more valuable at this juncture was, -that illness had come into the household, and, worst of all, it had -seized upon the head of the family. This is always a serious -calamity in any case; but in this case the consequences threatened -to be more serious than usual. An extensive business was -interrupted; large transactions, which only the head of the concern -himself, could adequately attend to, produced embarrassments, the -anxiety connected with which impeded a cure. All the resources of -medicine were applied; all the comfort, warmth, silence, and -attention that careful nursing could administer, were tried; and -tried in vain. The husband of Elizabeth died, and her children were -fatherless; but the fatherless are not forsaken--they are the care -of God. - -Now it was that the noble nature of aunt Jane came grandly into -view. Her sister was stricken down--swallowed up in grief. Life, for -her, had lost its charm. The world was as if left without its sun. -She was utterly overwhelmed. Even the faces of her children served -only to awaken her to a quicker sense of misery. But aunt Jane's -energies were only awakened to renewed life and vigor. To these -orphans she was now both father and mother in one. What woman can -interfere in _business_ matters without risk of censure? But Jane -interfered: she exerted herself to wind up the affairs of the -deceased; and she did so; she succeeded! There was but little left; -only enough to live upon, and that meanly. Every thing was sold -off--the grand house was broken up--and the family subsided into the -ranks of the genteel poor. Elizabeth could not bear up under such a -succession of shocks. She was not querulous, but her sorrows were -too much for her, and she fed upon them--she petted them, and they -became her masters. A few years passed, and the broken-down woman -was laid in the same grave with her husband. - -But Jane's courage never flagged. The gentle, dear, good creature, -now advancing into years, looked all manner of difficulties -courageously in the face; and she overcame them. They fled before -her resolution. Alone she bore the burden of that family of sons and -daughters not her own, but as dear to her now as if they were. What -scheming and thought she daily exercised to make the ends meet--to -give to each of them alike such an amount of school education as -would enable them "to make their way in the world," as she used to -say--can not be described. It would take a long chapter to detail -the patient industry, the frugal care, the motherly help, and the -watchful up-bringing with which she tended the helpless orphans. But -her arduous labors were all more than repaid in the end. - -It was my privilege to know this noble woman. I used occasionally to -join the little family circle in an evening, round their crackling -fire, and contribute my quota of wonderful stories to the listening -group. Aunt Jane herself, was a capital story-teller; and it was her -wont thus, of an evening, to entertain the youngsters after the -chief part of the day's work was done. She would tell the boys--John -and Edward--of those self-helping and perseverant great men who had -climbed the difficult steeps of the world, and elevated themselves -to the loftiest stations by their own energy, industry, and -self-denial. The great and the good were her heroes, and she labored -to form those young minds about her after the best and noblest -models which biographic annals could furnish. "Without goodness," -she would say--and her bright, speaking looks (plain though her -features were), with her animated and glowing expression, on such -occasions, made the lessons root themselves firmly in their young -minds and hearts--"Without goodness, my dear children, greatness is -naught--mere gilding and lacker; goodness is the real jewel in the -casket; so never forget to make that your end and aim." - -I, too, used to contribute my share toward those delightful -evenings' entertainments, and aunt Jane would draw me on to tell the -group of the adventures and life of our royal Alfred--of his -struggles, his valor, his goodness, and his greatness; of the old -contests of the Danes and the Saxons; of Harold, the last of the -Saxon kings; of William the Norman, and the troublous times which -followed the Conquest; and of the valorous life of our forefathers, -out of which the living English character, habits, and institutions -had at length been formed. And oftentimes the shadow would flit -across those young faces, by the fire's light, when they were told -of perilous adventures on the lone sea; of shipwrecked and cast-away -sailors; of the escape of Drake, and the adventures of Cook, and of -that never-ending source of wonderment and interest--the life and -wanderings of Robinson Crusoe. And there was merriment and fun, too, -mixed with the marvelous and the imaginative--stories of giants, and -fairies, and Sleeping Beauties--at which their eyes would glance -brightly in the beams of the glowing fire. Then, first one little -face, and then another, would grow heavy and listless, and their -little heads begin to nod; at which the aunt would hear, one by one, -their little petitions to their "Father which art in Heaven," and -with a soft kiss and murmured blessing, would then lay them in their -little cribs, draw the curtains, and leave them to sleep. - -But, as for the good aunt, bless you, nearly half of her work was -yet to do! There she would sit, far on into the night, till her eyes -were red and her cheeks feverish, with her weary white seam in her -hand; or, at another time, she would be mending, patching, and eking -out the clothes of the children just put to bed--for their wardrobe -was scanty, and often very far gone. Yes! poor thing! she was ready -to work her fingers to the bone for these dear fatherless young -ones, breathing so softly in the next room, and whose muttered -dreams would now and then disturb the deep stillness of the night; -when she would listen, utter a heartfelt "bless them," and then go -on with her work again. The presence of those children seemed only -to remind her of the need of more toil for their sakes. For them did -aunt Jane work by day, and work by night; for them did she ply the -brilliant needle, which, save in those gloaming hours by the -fireside, was scarcely ever out of her hand. - -Sorrowful needle! What eyes have followed thee, strained themselves -at thee, wept over thee! And what sorrow yet hangs about the -glittering, polished, silver-eyed needle! What lives hang upon it! -What toil and night-watching, what laughter and tears, what gossip -and misery, what racking pains and weary moanings has it not -witnessed! And, would you know the poetry it has inspired--then read -poor Hood's terrible wail of "The Song of the Shirt!" The friend of -the needy, the tool of the industrious, the helper of the starving, -the companion of the desolate; such is that weakest of human -instruments--the needle! It was all these to our aunt Jane! - -I can not tell you the life-long endurance and courage of that -woman; how she devoted herself to the cherishment and domestic -training of the girls, and the intellectual and industrial education -of the boys, and the correct moral culture of all the members of her -"little family," as she styled them. - -Efforts such as hers are _never_ without their reward, even in this -world; and of her better and higher reward, surely aunt Jane might -well feel assured. Her children did credit to her. Years passed, and -one by one they grew up toward maturity. The character of the aunt -proved the best recommendation for the youths. The boys got placed -out at business--one in a lawyer's office, the second in a -warehouse. I do not specify further particulars; for the boys are -now men, well-known in the world; respected, admired, and -prosperous. One of them is a barrister of the highest distinction in -his profession, and it has been said of him, that he has the heart -of a woman, and the courage of a lion. The other is a well-known -merchant, and he is cited as a model of integrity among his class. -The girls have grown into women, and are all married. With one of -these aunt Jane now enjoys, in quiet and ease, the well-earned -comforts and independence of a green old age. About her knees now -clamber a new generation--the children of her "boys and girls." - -Need I tell you how that dear old woman is revered! how her patient -toils are remembered and honored! how her nephews attribute all -their successes in life to her, to her noble example, to her tender -care, to her patient and long-suffering exertions on their behalf. -Never was aunt so honored--so beloved! She declares they will "spoil -her"--a thing she is not used to; and she often beseeches them to -have done with their acknowledgments of gratitude. But she is never -wearied of hearing them recall to memory those happy hours, by the -evening's fire-light, in the humble cottage in which I was so often -a sharer; and then her eye glistens, and a large tear of -thankfulness droops upon the lower lid, which she wipes off as of -old, and the same heartfelt benison of "Bless them," mutters on her -quivering lips. - -I should like, some day, to indulge myself in telling a long story -about that dear aunt Jane's experiences; but I am growing old and a -little maudlin myself, and after all, her life and its results are -best told in the character and the history of the children she has -so faithfully nurtured and educated. - - - - -VENTRILOQUISM. - - -The art and practice of ventriloquism, has of late years exhibited -so much improvement that it deserves and will reward a little -judicious attention directed toward its all but miraculous -phenomena, and the causes and conditions of their astonishing -display. The art is of ancient date, the peculiarity of the vocal -organs in which it originates, like other types of genius or -aptitude, having been at intervals repeated. References in Scripture -to "the familiar spirits that peep and mutter" are numerous. In the -early Christian Church the practice also was known, and a treatise -was written on it by Eustathius, Archbishop of Antioch, in Greek. -The main argument of the book is the evocation of the ghost of -Samuel. - -By the Mosaic law the Hebrews were prohibited from consulting those -who had familiar spirits. By one of such it is stated that the Witch -of Endor divined, or perhaps that she was possessed by it; for the -Hebrew _ob_ designates both those persons in whom there is a -familiar spirit, as well as those who divined by them. The plural -_oboth_ corresponds with the word ventriloquism. In the Septuagint, -it is associated with gastromancy--a mode of ancient divination, -wherein the diviner replied without moving his lips, so that the -consulter believed he actually heard the voice of a spirit; from -which circumstance, many theologians have doubted whether Samuel's -ghost really appeared, or rather whether the whole were not a -ventriloquial imposition on the superstitious credulity of Saul. We -may see in this unfortunate monarch and his successor the -distinction between true religion and false superstition; and, -indeed, in the poets and prophets generally of the Israelites, who -continually testify against the latter in all its forms. To them, to -the Greeks, the Egyptians, and the Assyrians, ventriloquism was -evidently well known. By reference to Leviticus, we shall find, as -we have said, the law forbids the Hebrews to consult those having -familiar spirits. The prophet Isaiah also draws an illustration from -the kind of voice heard in a case of divination. "Thou shalt be -brought down, shalt speak out of the ground, and thy speech shall be -low out of the dust; thy voice shall be as one that hath a familiar -spirit out of the ground, and thy speech shall whisper out of the -dust." It is curious that the Mormons quote this text as prophetic -of the discovery of their Sacred Book. In the Acts, Paul is -described as depriving a young woman of a familiar spirit, in the -city of Philippi in Macedonia;--she is announced as "a certain -damsel possessed with a spirit of divination, which brought her -master much gain by sooth-saying." There is also that well-known -tale in Plutarch, which is so impressive even to this day on the -Christian imagination--the story we mean, of Epitherses, who, having -embarked for Italy in the reign of Tiberius Cæsar, suddenly heard a -voice from the shore, while becalmed one evening before the -Paxe--two small islands in the Ionian sea, which lie between Corcyra -and Leucadia; such voice addressing Thamus, a pilot, and an Egyptian -by birth, who refused to answer till he received the third summons, -whereupon it said, "When thou art come to the Palodes, proclaim -aloud that the great Pan is dead!" It is added, that "the passengers -were all amazed; but their amazement gave place to the most alarming -emotions, when, on arriving at the specified place, Thamus stood in -the stern of the vessel, and proclaimed what he had been commanded -to announce." St. Chrysostom and the early fathers mention -divination by a familiar spirit as practiced in their day; and the -practice is still common in the East; as it is also among the -Esquimaux. As to the treatise of Eustathius, the good bishop's -notion was that the Witch of Endor was really possessed of a demon; -whose deception the vision was, being produced by supernatural -agency, not, as cited in the Septuagint, by Engastrimism, or -Ventriloquy. - -In the nineteenth century, we are told by Sir David Brewster, that -ventriloquists made great additions to their art. The performances, -he says, of Fitzjames and Alexandré were far superior to those of -their predecessors. "Besides the art of speaking by the muscles of -the throat and the abdomen, without moving those of the face, these -artists had not only studied, with great diligence and success, the -modifications which sounds of all kinds undergo from distance, -obstructions, and other causes, but had acquired the art of -imitating them in the highest perfection. The ventriloquist was -therefore able to carry on a dialogue in which the _dramatis voces_, -as they may be called, were numerous; and, when on the outside of an -apartment, could personate a mob with its infinite variety of noise -and vociferation. Their influence over the minds of an audience was -still further extended by a singular power which they had obtained -over the muscles of the body. Fitzjames actually succeeded in making -the opposite or corresponding muscles act differently from each -other; and while one side of his face was merry and laughing, the -other side was full of sorrow and tears. At one time, he was tall, -and thin, and melancholy, and after passing behind a screen, he came -out bloated with obesity and staggering with fullness. M. Alexandré -possessed the same power over his face and figure, and so striking -was the contrast between two of these forms, that an excellent -sculptor (M. Joseph) has perpetuated them in marble. This new -acquirement of the ventriloquist of the nineteenth century, enabled -him in his own single person, and with his own single voice, to -represent a dramatic composition which would formerly have required -the assistance of several actors. Although only one character in -the piece could be seen at the same time, yet they all appeared -during its performance; and the change of face and figure on the -part of the ventriloquist was so perfect that his personal identity -could not be recognized in the _dramatis personæ_. This deception -was rendered still more complete by a particular construction of the -costumes, which enabled the performer to appear in a new character, -after an interval so short that the audience necessarily believed -that it was another person." - -Some amusing anecdotes may be gathered, illustrative of -ventriloquism. - -One M. St. Gille, a ventriloquist of France, had once occasion to -shelter himself from a sudden storm in a monastery in the -neighborhood of Avranche. The monks were at the time in deep sorrow -for the loss of an esteemed member of their fraternity, whom they -had recently buried. While lamenting over the tomb of their departed -brother the slight honors which had been paid to his memory, a -mysterious voice was heard to issue from the vaults of the church, -bewailing the condition of the deceased in purgatory, and reproving -the monks in melancholy tones for their want of zeal and reverence -for departed worth. Tidings of the event flew abroad; and quickly -brought the inhabitants to the spot. The miraculous speaker still -renewed his lamentations and reproaches; whereupon the monks fell on -their faces, and vowed to repair their neglect. They then chanted a -_De profundis_, and at intervals the ghostly voice of the deceased -friar expressed his satisfaction. - -One Louis Brabant turned his ventriloquial talent to profitable -account. Rejected by the parents of an heiress as an unsuitable -match for their daughter, Louis, on the death of the father, paid a -visit to the widow, during which the voice of her deceased husband -was all at once heard thus to address her: "Give my daughter in -marriage to Louis Brabant:--he is a man of fortune and character, -and I endure the pains of purgatory for having refused her to him. -Obey this admonition, and give repose to the soul of your departed -husband." Of course, the widow complied; but Brabant's difficulties -were not yet all overcome. He wanted money to defray the wedding -expenses, and resolved to work on the fears of an old usurer, a M. -Cornu, of Lyons. Having obtained an evening interview, he contrived -to turn the conversation on departed spirits and ghosts. During an -interval of silence, the voice of the miser's deceased father was -heard, complaining of his situation in purgatory, and calling loudly -upon his son to rescue him from his sufferings, by enabling Brabant -to redeem the Christians at that time enslaved by the Turks. Not -succeeding on the first occasion, Brabant was compelled to make a -second visit to the miser, when he took care to enlist not only his -father but all his deceased relations in the appeal; and in this way -he obtained a thousand crowns. - -There have been few female ventriloquists. Effects produced by the -female organs of speech have always manifested a deficiency of -power. The artificial voices have been few in number, and those -imperfectly defined. A woman at Amsterdam possessed considerable -powers in this way. Conrad Amman, a Dutch doctor in medicine, who -published a Latin treatise at Amsterdam in 1700, observes of her, -that the effects she exhibited were produced by a sort of swallowing -of the words, or forcing them to retrograde, as it were, by the -trachea, by speaking during the inspiration of the breath, and not, -as in ordinary speech, during expiration. The same writer notices -also the performances of the famous Casimir Schreckenstein. - -Different professors of ventriloquism have given different accounts -of the manner in which they succeeded in producing their illusions. -Baron Mengen, one of the household of Prince Lichtenstein, at -Vienna, said that it consisted in a passion for counterfeiting the -cries of animals and the voices of different persons. M. St. Gille -referred his art to mimicry; and the French Academy, combining these -views, defines the art as consisting in an accurate imitation of any -given sound as it reaches the ear. Scientific solutions are various. -Mr. Nicholson thought that artists in this line, by continual -practice from childhood, acquire the power of speaking during -inspiration with the same articulation as the ordinary voice, which -is formed by expiration. M. Richerand declares that every time a -professor exhibits his vocal peculiarities, he suffers distension in -the epigastric region; and supposes that the mechanism of the art -consists in a slow, gradual expiration, drawn in such a way, that -the artist either makes use of the influence exerted by volition -over the parietes of the thorax, or that he keeps the epiglottis -down by the base of the tongue, the apex of which is not carried -beyond the dental arches. He observes, that ventriloquists possess -the power of making an exceedingly strong inspiration just before -the long expiration, and thus convey into the lungs an immense -quantity of air, by the artistical management of the egress of which -they produce such astonishing effects upon the hearing and -imagination of their auditors. - -The theory propounded by Mr. Gough in the "Manchester Memoir," on -the principle of reverberated sound, is untenable, because -ventriloquism on that theory would be impossible in a crowded -theatre, which admits not of the predicated echoes. Mr. Love, in his -account of himself, asserts a natural aptitude, a physical -predisposition of the vocal organs; which, in his case, discovered -itself as early as the age of ten, and gradually improved with -practice, without any artistic study whatever. He states that not -only his pure ventriloquisms, but nearly all his lighter vocal -imitations of miscellaneous sounds, were executed in the first -instance on the spur of the moment, and without any pre-meditation. -The artist must evidently possess great flexibility of larynx and -tongue. Polyphony, according to our modern professor, is produced -by compression of the muscles of the chest, and is an act entirely -different from any species of vocal deception or modulation. There -is no method, he tells us, of manufacturing true ventriloquists. -Nature must have commenced the operation, by placing at the artist's -disposal a certain quality of voice adapted for the purpose, as the -raw material to work upon. It is like a fine ear or voice for -singing--the gift of Nature. It follows, therefore, that an expert -polyphonist must be as rare a personage as any other man of genius -in any particular art. - - - - -THE INCENDIARY. - -FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF AN ATTORNEY. - - -I knew James Dutton, as I shall call him, at an early period of -life, when my present scanty locks of iron-gray were thick and dark, -my now pale and furrowed cheeks were fresh and ruddy, like his own. -Time, circumstance, and natural bent of mind, have done their work -on both of us; and if his course of life has been less equable than -mine, it has been chiefly so because the original impulse, the first -start on the great journey, upon which so much depends, was directed -by wiser heads in my case than in his. We were school-fellows for a -considerable time; and if I acquired--as I certainly did--a larger -stock of knowledge than he, it was by no means from any superior -capacity on my part, but that his mind was bent on other pursuits. -He was a born Nimrod, and his father encouraged this propensity from -the earliest moment that his darling and only son could sit a pony -or handle a light fowling-piece. Dutton, senior, was one of a then -large class of persons, whom Cobbett used to call bull-frog farmers; -men who, finding themselves daily increasing in wealth by the -operation of circumstances, they neither created nor could insure or -control--namely, a rapidly increasing manufacturing population, and -tremendous war-prices for their produce--acted as if the -chance-blown prosperity they enjoyed was the result of their own -forethought, skill, and energy, and therefore, humanly speaking, -indestructible. James Dutton was, consequently, denied nothing--not -even the luxury of neglecting his own education; and he availed -himself of the lamentable privilege to a great extent. It was, -however, a remarkable feature in the lad's character, that whatever -he himself deemed essential should be done, no amount of indulgence, -no love of sport or dissipation, could divert him from thoroughly -accomplishing. Thus he saw clearly, that even in the life--that of a -sportsman-farmer he had chalked out for himself, it was -indispensably necessary that a certain quantum of educational power -should be attained; and so he really acquired a knowledge of -reading, writing, and spelling, and then withdrew from school to -more congenial avocations. - -I frequently met James Dutton in after-years; but some nine or ten -months had passed since I had last seen him, when I was directed by -the chief partner in the firm to which Flint and I subsequently -succeeded, to take coach for Romford, Essex, in order to ascertain -from a witness there what kind of evidence we might expect him to -give in a trial to come off in the then Hilary term at Westminster -Hall. It was the first week in January: the weather was bitterly -cold; and I experienced an intense satisfaction when, after -dispatching the business I had come upon, I found myself in the long -dining-room of the chief market-inn, where two blazing fires shed a -ruddy, cheerful light over the snow-white damask table-cloth, bright -glasses, decanters, and other preparatives for the farmers' -market-dinner. Prices had ruled high that day; wheat had reached £30 -a load; and the numerous groups of hearty, stalwart yeomen present -were in high glee, crowing and exulting alike over their full -pockets and the news--of which the papers were just then full--of -the burning of Moscow, and the flight and ruin of Bonaparte's army. -James Dutton was in the room, but not, I observed, in his usual flow -of animal spirits. The crape round his hat might, I thought, account -for that, and as he did not see me, I accosted him with an inquiry -after his health, and the reason of his being in mourning. He -received me very cordially, and in an instant cast off the -abstracted manner I had noticed. His father, he informed me, was -gone--had died about seven months previously, and he was alone now -at Ash Farm--why didn't I run down there to see him sometimes, &c.? -Our conversation was interrupted by a summons to dinner, very -cheerfully complied with; and we both--at least I can answer for -myself--did ample justice to a more than usually capital dinner, -even in those capital old market-dinner times. We were very jolly -afterward, and amazingly triumphant over the frost-bitten, -snow-buried soldier-banditti that had so long lorded it over -continental Europe. Dutton did not partake of the general hilarity. -There was a sneer upon his lip during the whole time, which, -however, found no expression in words. - -"How quiet you are, James Dutton!" cried a loud voice from out the -dense smoke-cloud that by this time completely enveloped us. On -looking toward the spot from whence the ringing tones came, a jolly, -round face--like the sun as seen through a London fog--gleamed redly -dull from out the thick and choking atmosphere. - -"Every body," rejoined Dutton, "hasn't had the luck to sell two -hundred quarters of wheat at to-day's price, as you have, Tom -Southall." - -"That's true, my boy," returned Master Southall, sending, in the -plentitude of his satisfaction, a jet of smoke toward us with -astonishing force. "And, I say, Jem, I'll tell 'ee what I'll do; -I'll clap on ten guineas more upon what I offered for the brown -mare." - -"Done! She's yours, Tom, then, for ninety guineas!" - -"Gie's your hand upon it!" cried Tom Southall, jumping up from his -chair, and stretching a fist as big as a leg of mutton--well, say -lamb--over the table. "And here--here," he added, with an exultant -chuckle, as he extricated a swollen canvas-bag from his -pocket--"here's the dibs at once." - -This transaction excited a great deal of surprise at our part of the -table; and Dutton was rigorously cross-questioned as to his reason -for parting with his favorite hunting mare. - -"The truth is, friends," said Dutton at last, "I mean to give up -farming, and--" - -"Gie up farmin'!" broke in half-a-dozen voices. "Lord!" - -"Yes; I don't like it. I shall buy a commission in the army. -There'll be a chance against Boney, now; and it's a life I'm fit -for." - -The farmers looked completely agape at this announcement; but making -nothing of it, after silently staring at Dutton and each other, with -their pipes in their hands and not in their mouths, till they had -gone out, stretched their heads simultaneously across the table -toward the candles, relit their pipes, and smoked on as before. - -"Then, perhaps, Mr. Dutton," said a young man in a smartly-cut -velveteen coat with mother-of-pearl buttons, who had hastily left -his seat farther down the table--"perhaps you will sell the double -Manton, and Fanny and Slut?" - -"Yes; at a price." - -Prices were named; I forget now the exact sums, but enormous prices, -I thought, for the gun and the dogs, Fanny and Slut. The bargain was -eagerly concluded, and the money paid at once. Possibly the buyer -had a vague notion, that a portion of the vender's skill might come -to him with his purchases. - -"You be in 'arnest, then, in this fool's business, James Dutton," -observed a farmer, gravely. "I be sorry for thee; but as I s'pose -the lease of Ash Farm will be parted with; why--John, waiter, tell -Master Hurst at the top of the table yonder, to come this way." - -Master Hurst, a well-to-do, highly respectable-looking, and rather -elderly man, came in obedience to the summons, and after a few words -in an under-tone with the friend that had sent for him, said, "Is -this true, James Dutton?" - -"It is true that the lease and stock of Ash Farm are to be sold--at -a price. You, I believe, are in want of such a concern for the young -couple just married." - -"Well, I don't say I might not be a customer, if the price were -reasonable." - -"Let us step into a private room, then," said Dutton, rising. "This -is not a place for business of that kind. Sharp," he added, _sotto -voce_, "come with us; I may want you." - -I had listened to all this with a kind of stupid wonderment, and I -now, mechanically, as it were, got up and accompanied the party to -another room. - -The matter was soon settled. Five hundred pounds for the lease--ten -years unexpired--of Ash Farm, about eleven hundred acres, and the -stock and implements; the plowing, sowing, &c., already performed, -to be paid for at a valuation based on present prices. I drew out -the agreement in form, it was signed in duplicate, a large sum was -paid down as deposit, and Mr. Hurst with his friend withdrew. - -"Well," I said, taking a glass of port from a bottle Dutton had just -ordered in--"here's fortune in your new career; but, as I am a -living man, I can't understand what you can be thinking about." - -"You haven't read the newspapers?" - -"O yes, I have! Victory! Glory! March to Paris! and all that sort of -thing. Very fine, I dare say; but rubbish, moonshine, I call it, if -purchased by the abandonment of the useful, comfortable, joyous life -of a prosperous yeoman." - -"Is that all you have seen in the papers?" - -"Not much else. What, besides, have you found in them?" - -"Wheat, at ten or eleven pounds a load--less perhaps--other produce -in proportion." - -"Ha!" - -"I see farther, Sharp, than you bookmen do, in some matters. Boney's -done for; that to me is quite plain, and earlier than I thought -likely; although I, of course, as well as every other man -with a head instead of a turnip on his shoulders, knew such a -raw-head-and-bloody-bones as that must sooner or later come to the -dogs. And as I also know what agricultural prices were _before_ the -war, I can calculate without the aid of vulgar fractions, which, -by-the-by, I never reached, what they'll be when it's over, and the -thundering expenditure now going on is stopped. In two or three -weeks, people generally will get a dim notion of all this; and I -sell, therefore, while I can, at top prices." - -The shrewdness of the calculation struck me at once. - -"You will take another farm when one can be had on easier terms than -now, I suppose?" - -"Yes; if I can manage it. And I _will_ manage it. Between ourselves, -after all the old man's debts are paid, I shall only have about nine -or ten hundred pounds to the good, even by selling at the present -tremendous rates; so it was time, you see, I pulled up, and rubbed -the fog out of my eyes a bit. And hark ye, Master Sharp!" he added, -as we rose and shook hands with each other--"I have now done -_playing_ with the world--it's a place of work and business; and -I'll do my share of it so effectually, that my children, if I have -any, shall, if I do not, reach the class of landed gentry; and this -you'll find, for all your sneering, will come about all the more -easily that neither they nor their father will be encumbered with -much educational lumber. Good-by." - -I did not again see my old school-fellow till the change he had -predicted had thoroughly come to pass. Farms were every where to -let, and a general cry to parliament for aid rang through the land. -Dutton called at the office upon business, accompanied by a young -woman of remarkable personal comeliness, but, as a very few -sentences betrayed, little or no education in the conventional sense -of the word. She was the daughter of a farmer, whom--it was no fault -of hers--a change of times had not found in a better condition for -weathering them.--Anne Mosley, in fact, was a thoroughly -industrious, clever farm economist. The instant Dutton had secured -an eligible farm, at his own price and conditions, he married her; -and now, on the third day after the wedding, he had brought me the -draft of his lease for examination. - -"You are not afraid, then," I remarked, "of taking a farm in these -bad times?" - -"Not I--at a price. We mean to _rough_ it, Mr. Sharp," he added -gayly. "And, let me tell you, that those who will stoop to do -that--I mean, take their coats off, tuck up their sleeves, and fling -appearances to the winds--may, and will, if they understand their -business, and have got their heads screwed on right, do better here -than in any of the uncleared countries they talk so much about. You -know what I told you down at Romford. Well, we'll manage that before -our hair is gray, depend upon it, bad as the times may be--won't we, -Nance?" - -"We'll try, Jem," was the smiling response. - -They left the draft for examination. It was found to be correctly -drawn. Two or three days afterward, the deeds were executed, and -James Dutton was placed in possession. The farm, a capital one, was -in Essex. - -His hopes were fully realized as to money-making, at all events. He -and his wife rose early, sat up late, ate the bread of carefulness, -and altogether displayed such persevering energy, that only about -six or seven years had passed before the Duttons were accounted a -rich and prosperous family. They had one child only--a daughter. The -mother, Mrs. Dutton, died when this child was about twelve years of -age; and Anne Dutton became more than ever the apple of her father's -eye. The business of the farm went steadily on in its accustomed -track; each succeeding year found James Dutton growing in -wealth and importance; and his daughter in sparkling, catching -comeliness--although certainly not in the refinement of manner which -gives a quickening life and grace to personal symmetry and beauty. -James Dutton remained firm in his theory of the worthlessness of -education beyond what, in a narrow acceptation of the term, was -absolutely "necessary;" and Anne Dutton, although now heiress to -very considerable wealth, knew only how to read, write, spell, cast -accounts, and superintend the home-business of the farm. I saw a -great deal of the Duttons about this time, my brother-in-law, -Elsworthy and his wife having taken up their abode within about half -a mile of James Dutton's dwelling-house; and I ventured once or -twice to remonstrate with the prosperous farmer upon the positive -danger, with reference to his ambitious views, of not at least so -far cultivating the intellect and taste of so attractive a maiden as -his daughter, that sympathy on her part with the rude, unlettered -clowns, with whom she necessarily came so much in contact, should be -impossible. He laughed my hints to scorn. "It is idleness--idleness -alone," he said, "that puts love-fancies into girls' heads. -Novel-reading, jingling at a piano-forte--merely other names for -idleness--these are the parents of such follies. Anne Dutton, as -mistress of this establishment, has her time fully and usefully -occupied; and when the time comes, not far distant now, to establish -her in marriage, she will wed into a family I wot of; and the -Romford prophecy of which you remind me will be realized, in great -part at least." - -He found, too late, his error. He hastily entered the office one -morning, and although it was only five or six weeks since I had last -seen him, the change in his then florid, prideful features was so -striking and painful, as to cause me to fairly leap upon my feet -with surprise. - -"Good Heavens, Dutton!" I exclaimed, "What is the matter? What has -happened?" - -"Nothing has happened, Mr. Sharp," he replied, "but what you -predicted, and which, had I not been the most conceited dolt in -existence, I too, must have foreseen. You know that good-looking, -idle, and, I fear, irreclaimable young fellow, George Hamblin?" - -"I have seen him once or twice. Has he not brought his father to the -verge of a work-house by low dissipation and extravagance?" - -"Yes. Well, he is an accepted suitor for Anne Dutton's hand. No -wonder that you start. She fancies herself hopelessly in love with -him--Nay, Sharp, hear me out. I have tried expostulation, threats, -entreaties, locking her up; but it's useless. I shall kill the silly -fool if I persist, and I have at length consented to the marriage; -for I can not see her die." I began remonstrating upon the folly of -yielding consent to so ruinous a marriage, on account of a few tears -and hysterics, but Dutton stopped me peremptorily. - -"It is useless talking," he said. "The die is cast; I have given my -word. You would hardly recognize her, she is so altered. I did not -know before," added the strong, stern man, with trembling voice and -glistening eyes, "that she was so inextricably twined about my -heart--my life!" It is difficult to estimate the bitterness of such -a disappointment to a proud, aspiring man like Dutton. I pitied him -sincerely, mistaken, if not blameworthy, as he had been. - -"I have only myself to blame," he presently resumed. "A girl of -cultivated taste and mind could not have bestowed a second -thought on George Hamblin. But let's to business. I wish the -marriage-settlement, and my will, to be so drawn, that every -farthing received from me during my life, and after my death, shall -be hers, and hers only; and so strictly and entirely secured, that -she shall be without power to yield control over the slightest -portion of it, should she be so minded." I took down his -instructions, and the necessary deeds were drawn in accordance with -them. When the day for signing arrived, the bridegroom-elect -demurred at first to the stringency of the provisions of the -marriage-contract; but as upon this point, Mr. Dutton was found to -be inflexible, the handsome, illiterate clown--he was little -better--gave up his scruples, the more readily as a life of assured -idleness lay before him, from the virtual control he was sure to -have over his wife's income. These were the thoughts which passed -across his mind, I was quite sure, as taking the pen awkwardly in -his hand, he affixed _his mark_ to the marriage-deed. I reddened -with shame, and the smothered groan which at the moment smote -faintly on my ear, again brokenly confessed the miserable folly of -the father in not having placed his beautiful child beyond all -possibility of mental contact or communion with such a person. The -marriage was shortly afterward solemnized, but I did not wait to -witness the ceremony. - -The husband's promised good-behavior did not long endure; ere two -months of wedded life were past, he had fallen again into his old -habits; and the wife, bitterly repentant of her folly, was fain to -confess, that nothing but dread of her father's vengeance saved her -from positive ill usage. It was altogether a wretched, unfortunate -affair; and the intelligence--sad in itself--which reached me about -a twelvemonth after the marriage, that the young mother had died in -childbirth of her first-born, a girl, appeared to me rather a matter -of rejoicing than of sorrow or regret. The shock to poor Dutton was, -I understood, overwhelming for a time, and fears were entertained -for his intellects. He recovered, however, and took charge of his -grandchild, the father very willingly resigning the onerous burden. - -My brother-in-law left James Dutton's neighborhood for a distant -part of the country about this period, and I saw nothing of the -bereaved father for about five years, save only at two business -interviews. The business upon which I had seen him, was the -alteration of his will, by which all he might die possessed of was -bequeathed to his darling Annie. His health, I was glad to find, was -quite restored; and although now fifty years of age, the bright -light of his young days sparkled once more in his keen glance. His -youth was, he said, renewed in little Annie. He could even bear to -speak, though still with remorseful emotion, of his own lost child. -"No fear, Sharp," he said, "that I make that terrible mistake again. -Annie will fall in love, please God, with no unlettered, soulless -booby! Her mind shall be elevated, beautiful, and pure as her -person--she is the image of her mother--promises to be charming and -attractive. You must come and see her." I promised to do so; and he -went his way. At one of these interviews--the first it must have -been--I made a chance inquiry for his son-in-law, Hamblin. As the -name passed my lips, a look of hate and rage flashed out of his -burning eyes. I did not utter another word, nor did he; and we -separated in silence. - -It was evening, and I was returning in a gig from a rather long -journey into the country, when I called, in redemption of my -promise, upon James Dutton. Annie was really, I found, an engaging -pretty, blue-eyed, golden-haired child; and I was not so much -surprised at her grandfather's doting fondness--a fondness entirely -reciprocated, it seemed, by the little girl. It struck me, albeit, -that it was a perilous thing for a man of Dutton's vehement, fiery -nature to stake again, as he evidently had done, his all of life and -happiness upon one frail existence. An illustration of my thought or -fear occurred just after we had finished tea. A knock was heard at -the outer door, and presently a man's voice, in quarreling, drunken -remonstrance with the servant who opened it. The same deadly scowl I -had seen sweep over Dutton's countenance upon the mention of -Hamblin's name, again gleamed darkly there; and finding, after a -moment or two, that the intruder would not be denied, the master of -the house gently removed Annie from his knee, and strode out of the -room. - -"Follow grandpapa," whispered Mrs. Rivers, a highly respectable -widow of about forty years of age, whom Mr. Dutton had engaged at a -high salary to superintend Annie's education. The child went out, -and Mrs. Rivers, addressing me, said in a low voice: "Her presence -will prevent violence; but it is a sad affair." She then informed me -that Hamblin, to whom Mr. Dutton allowed a hundred a year, having -become aware of the grandfather's extreme fondness for Annie, -systematically worked that knowledge for his own sordid ends, and -preluded every fresh attack upon Mr. Dutton's purse by a threat to -reclaim the child. "It is not the money," remarked Mrs. Rivers in -conclusion, "that Mr. Dutton cares so much for, but the thought that -he holds Annie by the sufferance of that wretched man, goads him at -times almost to insanity." - -"Would not the fellow waive his claim for a settled increase of his -annuity?" - -"No; that has been offered to the extent of three hundred a year; -but Hamblin refuses, partly from the pleasure of keeping such a man -as Mr. Dutton in his power, partly because he knows that the last -shilling would be parted with rather than the child. It is a very -unfortunate business, and I often fear will terminate badly." The -loud but indistinct wrangling without ceased after a while, and I -heard a key turn stiffly in a lock. "The usual conclusion of these -scenes," said Mrs. Rivers. "Another draft upon his strong-box will -purchase Mr. Dutton a respite as long as the money lasts." I could -hardly look at James Dutton when he re-entered the room. There was -that in his countenance which I do not like to read in the faces of -my friends. He was silent for several minutes; at last he said -quickly, sternly: "Is there no instrument, Mr. Sharp, in all the -enginery of law, that can defeat a worthless villain's legal claim -to his child?" - -"None; except, perhaps, a commission of lunacy, or--" - -"Tush! tush!" interrupted Dutton; "the fellow has no wits to lose. -That being so--But let us talk of something else." We did so, but -on his part very incoherently, and I soon bade him good-night. - -This was December, and it was in February the following year that -Dutton again called at our place of business. There was a strange, -stern, iron meaning in his face. "I am in a great hurry," he said, -"and I have only called to say, that I shall be glad if you will run -over to the farm to-morrow on a matter of business. You have seen, -perhaps, in the paper, that my dwelling-house took fire the night -before last. You have not? Well, it is upon that I would consult -you. Will you come?" I agreed to do so, and he withdrew. - -The fire had not, I found, done much injury. It had commenced in a -kind of miscellaneous store-room; but the origin of the fire -appeared to me, as it did to the police-officers that had been -summoned, perfectly unaccountable. "Had it not been discovered in -time, and extinguished," I observed to Mrs. Rivers, "you would all -have been burned in your beds." - -"Why, no," replied that lady, with some strangeness of manner. "On -the night of the fire, Annie and I slept at Mr. Elsworthy's" (I have -omitted to notice, that my brother-in-law and family had returned to -their old residence), "and Mr. Dutton remained in London, whither he -had gone to see the play." - -"But the servants might have perished?" - -"No. A whim, apparently, has lately seized Mr. Dutton, that no -servant or laborer shall sleep under the same roof with himself; and -those new outhouses, where their bedrooms are placed, are, you see, -completely detached, and are indeed, as regards this dwelling, made -fire-proof." - -At this moment Mr. Dutton appeared, and interrupted our -conversation. He took me aside. "Well," he said, "to what conclusion -have you come? The work of an incendiary, is it not? Somebody too, -that knows I am not insured--" - -"Not insured!" - -"No; not for this dwelling-house. I did not renew the policy some -months ago." - -"Then," I jestingly remarked, "you, at all events, are safe from any -accusation of having set fire to your premises with the intent to -defraud the insurers." - -"To be sure--to be sure, I am," he rejoined with quick earnestness, -as if taking my remark seriously. "That is quite certain. Some one, -I am pretty sure, it must be," he presently added, "that owes me a -grudge--with whom I have quarreled, eh?" - -"It may be so, certainly." - -"It _must_ be so. And what, Mr. Sharp, is the highest penalty for -the crime of incendiarism?" - -"By the recent change in the law, transportation only; unless, -indeed, loss of human life occur in consequence of the felonious -act; in which case, the English law construes the offense to be -willful murder, although the incendiary may not have intended the -death or injury of any person." - -"I see. But here there could have been no loss of life." - -"There might have been, had not you, Mrs. Rivers, and Annie, chanced -to sleep out of the house." - -"True--true--a diabolical villain, no doubt. But we'll ferret him -out yet. You are a keen hand, Mr. Sharp, and will assist, I know. -Yes, yes--it's some fellow that hates me--that I perhaps hate and -loathe--" he added with sudden gnashing fierceness, and striking his -hand with furious violence on the table--"as I do a spotted toad!" - -I hardly recognized James Dutton in this fitful, disjointed talk, -and as there was really nothing to be done or to be inquired into, I -soon went away. - -"Only one week's interval," I hastily remarked to Mr. Flint, one -morning after glancing at the newspaper, "and another fire at -Dutton's farm-house!" - -"The deuce! He is in the luck of it, apparently," replied Flint, -without looking up from his employment. My partner knew Dutton only -by sight. - -The following morning, I received a note from Mrs. Rivers. She -wished to see me immediately on a matter of great importance. I -hastened to Mr. Dutton's, and found, on arriving there, that George -Hamblin was in custody, and undergoing an examination, at no great -distance off, before two county magistrates, on the charge of having -fired Mr. Dutton's premises. The chief evidence was, that Hamblin -had been seen lurking about the place just before the flames broke -out, and that near the window where an incendiary might have entered -there were found portions of several lucifer matches, of a -particular make, and corresponding to a number found in Hamblin's -bedroom. To this Hamblin replied, that he had come to the house by -Mr. Dutton's invitation, but found nobody there. This however, was -vehemently denied by Mr. Dutton. He had made no appointment with -Hamblin to meet at his (Dutton's) house. How should he, purposing as -he did to be in London at the time? With respect to the lucifer -matches, Hamblin said he had purchased them of a mendicant, and that -Mr. Dutton saw him do so. This also was denied. It was further -proved, that Hamblin, when in drink, had often said he would ruin -Dutton before he died. Finally, the magistrates, though with some -hesitation, decided that there was hardly sufficient evidence to -warrant them in committing the prisoner for trial, and he was -discharged, much to the rage and indignation of the prosecutor. - -Subsequently, Mrs. Rivers and I had a long private conference. She -and the child had again slept at Elsworthy's on the night of the -fire, and Dutton in London. "His excuse is," said Mrs. Rivers, "that -he can not permit us to sleep here unprotected by his presence." We -both arrived at the same conclusion, and at last agreed upon what -should be done--attempted rather--and that without delay. - -Just before taking leave of Mr. Dutton, who was in an exceedingly -excited state, I said: "By-the-by, Dutton, you have promised to dine -with me on some early day. Let it be next Tuesday. I shall have one -or two bachelor friends, and we can give you a shake-down for the -night." - -"Next Tuesday?" said he quickly. "At what hour do you dine?" - -"At six. Not a half-moment later." - -"Good! I will be with you." We then shook hands, and parted. - -The dinner would have been without interest to me, had not a note -previously arrived from Mrs. Rivers, stating that she and Annie were -again to sleep that night at Elsworthy's. This promised results. - -James Dutton, who rode into town, was punctual, and, as always of -late, flurried, excited, nervous--not, in fact, it appeared to me, -precisely in his right mind. The dinner passed off as dinners -usually do, and the after-proceedings went on very comfortably till -about half-past nine o'clock, when Dutton's perturbation, increased -perhaps by the considerable quantity of wine he had swallowed, not -drunk, became, it was apparent to every body, almost uncontrollable. -He rose--purposeless it seemed--sat down again--drew out his watch -almost every minute, and answered remarks addressed to him in the -wildest manner. The decisive moment was, I saw, arrived, and at a -gesture of mine, Elsworthy, who was in my confidence, addressed -Dutton. "By the way, Dutton, about Mrs. Rivers and Annie. I forgot -to tell you of it before." - -The restless man was on his feet in an instant, and glaring with -fiery eagerness at the speaker. - -"What! what!" he cried with explosive quickness--"what about Annie? -Death and fury!--speak! will you?" - -"Don't alarm yourself, my good fellow. It's nothing of consequence. -You brought Annie and her governess, about an hour before I started, -to sleep at our house--" - -"Yes--yes," gasped Dutton, white as death, and every fibre of his -body shaking with terrible dread. "Yes--well, well, go on. Thunder -and lightning! out with it, will you?" - -"Unfortunately, two female cousins arrived soon after you went away, -and I was obliged to escort Annie and Mrs. Rivers home again." A -wild shriek--yell is perhaps the more appropriate expression--burst -from the conscience and fear-stricken man. Another instant, and he -had torn his watch from the fob, glanced at it with dilated eyes, -dashed it on the table, and was rushing madly toward the door, -vainly withstood by Elsworthy, who feared we had gone too far. - -"Out of the way!" screamed the madman. "Let go, or I'll dash -you to atoms!" Suiting the action to the threat, he hurled my -brother-in-law against the wall with stunning force, and rushed on, -shouting incoherently: "My horse! There is time yet! Tom Edwards, -my horse!" - -Tom Edwards was luckily at hand, and although mightily surprised at -the sudden uproar, which he attributed to Mr. Dutton being in drink, -mechanically assisted to saddle, bridle, and bring out the roan -mare; and before I could reach the stables, Dutton's foot was in the -stirrup. I shouted "Stop," as loudly as I could, but the excited -horseman did not heed, perhaps not hear me: and away he went, at a -tremendous speed, hatless, and his long gray-tinted hair streaming -in the wind. It was absolutely necessary to follow. I therefore -directed Elsworthy's horse, a much swifter and more peaceful animal -than Dutton's, to be brought out; and as soon as I got into the high -country road, I too dashed along at a rate much too headlong to be -altogether pleasant. The evening was clear and bright, and I now and -then caught a distant sight of Dutton, who was going at a frantic -pace across the country, and putting his horse at leaps that no man -in his senses would have attempted. I kept the high-road, and we had -thus ridden about half an hour perhaps, when a bright flame about a -mile distant, as the crow flies, shot suddenly forth, strongly -relieved against a mass of dark wood just beyond it. I knew it to be -Dutton's house, even without the confirmation given by the frenzied -shout which at the same moment arose on my left hand. It was from -Dutton. His horse had been _staked_, in an effort to clear a high -fence, and he was hurrying desperately along on foot. I tried to -make him hear me, or to reach him, but found I could do neither: his -own wild cries and imprecations drowned my voice, and there were -impassable fences between the high-road and the fields across which -he madly hasted. - -The flames were swift this time, and defied the efforts of the -servants and husbandmen who had come to the rescue, to stay, much -less to quell them. Eagerly as I rode, Dutton arrived before the -blazing pile at nearly the same moment as myself, and even as he -fiercely struggled with two or three men, who strove by main force -to prevent him from rushing into the flames, only to meet with -certain death, the roof and floors of the building fell in with a -sudden crash. He believed that all was over with the child, and -again hurling forth the wild despairing cry I had twice before heard -that evening, he fell down, as if smitten by lightning, upon the -hard, frosty road. - -It was many days ere the unhappy, sinful man recovered his senses, -many weeks before he was restored to his accustomed health. Very -cautiously had the intelligence been communicated to him, that Annie -had not met the terrible fate, the image of which had incessantly -pursued him through his fevered dreams. He was a deeply grateful, -and, I believe, a penitent and altogether changed man. He purchased, -through my agency, a valuable farm in a distant county, in order to -be out of the way, not only of Hamblin, on whom he settled two -hundred a year, but of others, myself included, who knew or -suspected him of the foul intention he had conceived against his -son-in-law, and which, but for Mrs. Rivers, would, on the last -occasion, have been in all probability successful, so cunningly had -the evidence of circumstances been devised. "I have been," said -James Dutton to me at the last interview I had with him, "all my -life an overweening, self-confident fool. At Romford, I boasted to -you that my children should ally themselves with the landed gentry -of the country, and see the result! The future, please God, shall -find me in my duty--mindful only of that, and content, while so -acting, with whatever shall befall me or mine." - -Dutton continues to prosper in the world; Hamblin died several years -ago of delirium tremens; and Annie, I hear, _will_ in all -probability marry into the squirearchy of the country. All this is -not perhaps what is called poetical justice, but my experience has -been with the actual, not the ideal world. - - - - -BLEAK HOUSE.[7] - -BY CHARLES DICKENS. - - -CHAPTER XIV.--DEPORTMENT - -Richard left us on the very next evening, to begin his new career, -and committed Ada to my charge with great love for her, and great -trust in me. It touched me then to reflect, and it touches me now, -more nearly, to remember (having what I have to tell) how they both -thought of me, even at that engrossing time. I was a part of all -their plans, for the present and the future. I was to write to -Richard once a week, making my faithful report of Ada, who was to -write to him every alternate day. I was to be informed, under his -own hand, of all his labors and successes; I was to observe how -resolute and persevering he would be; I was to be Ada's bridesmaid -when they were married; I was to live with them afterward; I was to -keep all the keys of their house; I was to be made happy forever and -a day. - -"And if the suit _should_ make us rich, Esther--which it may, you -know!" said Richard, to crown all. - -A shade crossed Ada's face. - -"My dearest Ada," asked Richard, pausing, "why not?" - -"It had better declare us poor at once," said Ada. - -"O! I don't know about that," returned Richard; "but at all events, -it won't declare any thing at once. It hasn't declared any thing in -Heaven knows how many years." - -"Too true," said Ada. - -"Yes, but," urged Richard, answering what her look suggested rather -than her words, "the longer it goes on, dear cousin, the nearer it -must be to a settlement one way or other. Now, is not that -reasonable?" - -"You know best, Richard. But I am afraid if we trust to it, it will -make us unhappy." - -"But, my Ada, we are not going to trust to it!" cried Richard, -gayly. "We know it better than to trust to it. We only say that if -it _should_ make us rich, we have no constitutional objection to -being rich. The Court is, by solemn settlement of law, our grim old -guardian, and we are to suppose that what it gives us (when it gives -us any thing) is our right. It is not necessary to quarrel with our -right." - -"No," said Ada, "but it may be better to forget all about it." - -"Well, well!" cried Richard, "then we will forget all about it! We -consign the whole thing to oblivion. Dame Durden puts on her -approving face, and it's done!" - -"Dame Durden's approving face," said I, looking out of the box in -which I was packing his books, "was not very visible when you called -it by that name; but it does approve, and she thinks you can't do -better." - -So, Richard said there was an end of it--and immediately began, on -no other foundation, to build as many castles in the air as would -man the great wall of China. He went away in high spirits. Ada and -I, prepared to miss him very much, commenced our quieter career. - -On our arrival in London, we had called with Mr. Jarndyce at Mrs. -Jellyby's, but had not been so fortunate as to find her at home. It -appeared that she had gone somewhere, to a tea-drinking, and had -taken Miss Jellyby with her. Besides the tea-drinking, there was to -be some considerable speech-making and letter-writing on the general -merits of the cultivation of coffee, conjointly with natives, at the -Settlement of Borrioboola Gha. All this involved, no doubt, -sufficient active exercise of pen and ink, to make her daughter's -part in the proceedings, any thing but a holiday. - -It being, now, beyond the time appointed for Mrs. Jellyby's return, -we called again. She was in town, but not at home, having gone to -Mile End, directly after breakfast, on some Borrioboolan business, -arising out of a Society called the East London Branch Aid -Ramification. As I had not seen Peepy on the occasion of our last -call (when he was not to be found any where, and when the cook -rather thought he must have strolled away with the dustman's cart) I -now inquired for him again. The oyster shells he had been building a -house with, were still in the passage, but he was nowhere -discoverable, and the cook supposed that he had "gone after the -sheep." When we repeated, with some surprise, "The sheep?" she said, -O yes, on market days he sometimes followed them quite out of town, -and came back in such a state as never was! - -I was sitting at the window with my Guardian, on the following -morning, and Ada was busy writing--of course to Richard--when Miss -Jellyby was announced, and entered, leading the identical Peepy, -whom she had made some endeavors to render presentable, by wiping -the dirt into corners of his face and hands, and making his hair -very wet, and then violently frizzling it with her fingers. Every -thing the dear child wore, was either too large for him or too -small. Among his other contradictory decorations he had the hat of a -Bishop, and the little gloves of a baby. His boots were, on a small -scale, the boots of a plowman: while his legs, so crossed and -recrossed with scratches that they looked like maps, were bare, -below a very short pair of plaid drawers, finished off with two -frills of perfectly different patterns. The deficient buttons on his -plaid frock had evidently been supplied from one of Mr. Jellyby's -coats, they were so extremely brazen and so much too large. Most -extraordinary specimens of needlework appeared on several parts of -his dress, where it had been hastily mended; and I recognized the -same hand on Miss Jellyby's. She was, however, unaccountably -improved in her appearance, and looked very pretty. She was -conscious of poor little Peepy being but a failure, after all her -trouble, and she showed it as she came in, by the way in which she -glanced, first at him, and then at us. - -"O dear me!" said my Guardian, "Due East!" - -Ada and I gave her a cordial welcome, and presented her to Mr. -Jarndyce; to whom she said, as she sat down: - -"Ma's compliments, and she hopes you'll excuse her, because she's -correcting proofs of the plan. She's going to put out five thousand -new circulars, and she knows you'll be interested to hear that. I -have brought one of them with me. Ma's compliments." With which she -presented it sulkily enough. - -"Thank you," said my Guardian. "I am much obliged to Mrs. Jellyby. O -dear me! This is a very trying wind!" - -We were busy with Peepy; taking off his clerical hat; asking him if -he remembered us; and so on. Peepy retired behind his elbow at -first, but relented at the sight of sponge-cake, and allowed me to -take him on my lap, where he sat munching quietly. Mr. Jarndyce then -withdrawing into the temporary Growlery, Miss Jellyby opened a -conversation with her usual abruptness. - -"We are going on just as bad as ever in Thavies Inn," said she. "I -have no peace of my life. Talk of Africa! I couldn't be worse off if -I was a what's-his-name-man and a brother!" - -I tried to say something soothing. - -"O, it's of no use, Miss Summerson," exclaimed Miss Jellyby, "though -I thank you for the kind intention all the same. I know how I am -used, and I am not to be talked over. You wouldn't be talked over, -if you were used so. Peepy, go and play at Wild Beasts under the -piano!" - -"I shan't!" said Peepy. - -"Very well, you ungrateful, naughty, hard-hearted boy!" returned -Miss Jellyby, with tears in her eyes. "I'll never take pains to -dress you any more." - -"Yes, I will go, Caddy!" cried Peepy, who was really a good child, -and who was so moved by his sister's vexation that he went at once. - -"It seems a little thing to cry about," said poor Miss Jellyby, -apologetically, "but I am quite worn out. I was directing the new -circulars till two this morning. I detest the whole thing so, that -that alone makes my head ache till I can't see out of my eyes. And -look at that poor unfortunate child. Was there ever such a fright as -he is!" - -Peepy, happily unconscious of the defects in his appearance, sat on -the carpet behind one of the legs of the piano, looking calmly out -of his den at us, while he ate his cake. - -"I have sent him to the other end of the room," observed Miss -Jellyby, drawing her chair nearer ours, "because I don't want him to -hear the conversation. Those little things are so sharp! I was going -to say, we really are going on worse than ever. Pa will be a -bankrupt before long, and then I hope Ma will be satisfied. There'll -be nobody but Ma to thank for it." - -We said we hoped Mr. Jellyby's affairs were not in so bad a state as -that. - -"It's of no use hoping, though it's very kind of you!" returned Miss -Jellyby, shaking her head. "Pa told me, only yesterday morning (and -dreadfully unhappy he is), that he couldn't weather the storm. I -should be surprised if he could. When all our tradesmen send into -our house any stuff they like, and the servants do what they like -with it, and I have no time to improve things if I knew how, and Ma -don't care about any thing, I should like to make out how Pa _is_ to -weather the storm. I declare if I was Pa, I'd run away!" - -"My dear!" said I, smiling. "Your papa, no doubt, considers his -family." - -"O yes, his family is all very fine, Miss Summerson," replied Miss -Jellyby; "but what comfort is his family to him? His family is -nothing but bills, dirt, waste, noise, tumbles down stairs, -confusion, and wretchedness. His scrambling home, from week's-end to -week's-end, is like one great washing-day--only nothing's washed!" - -Miss Jellyby tapped her foot upon the floor, and wiped her eyes. - -"I am sure I pity Pa to that degree," she said, "and am so angry -with Ma, that I can't find words to express myself! However, I am -not going to bear it, I am determined. I won't be a slave all my -life, and I won't submit to be proposed to by Mr. Quale. A pretty -thing, indeed, to marry a Philanthropist! As if I hadn't had enough -of _that_!" said poor Miss Jellyby. - -I must confess that I could not help feeling rather angry with Mrs. -Jellyby, myself; seeing and hearing this neglected girl, and knowing -how much of bitterly satirical truth there was in what she said. - -"If it wasn't that we had been intimate when you stopped at our -house," pursued Miss Jellyby, "I should have been ashamed to come -here to-day, for I know what a figure I must seem to you two. But, -as it is, I made up my mind to call: especially as I am not likely -to see you again, the next time you come to town." - -She said this with such great significance that Ada and I glanced at -one another, foreseeing something more. - -"No!" said Miss Jellyby, shaking her head. "Not at all likely! I -know I may trust you two. I am sure you won't betray me. I am -engaged." - -"Without their knowledge at home?" said I. - -"Why, good gracious me, Miss Summerson," she returned, justifying -herself in a fretful but not angry manner, "how can it be otherwise? -You know what Ma is--and I needn't make poor Pa more miserable by -telling _him_." - -"But would it not be adding to his unhappiness, to marry without his -knowledge or consent, my dear?" said I. - -"No," said Miss Jellyby, softening. "I hope not. I should try to -make him happy and comfortable when he came to see me; and Peepy and -the others should take it in turns to come and stay with me; and -they should have some care taken of them, then." - -There was a good deal of affection in poor Caddy. She softened more -and more while saying this, and cried so much over the unwonted -little home-picture she had raised in her mind, that Peepy, in his -cave under the piano, was touched, and turned himself over on his -back with loud lamentations. It was not until I had brought him to -kiss his sister, and had restored him to his place in my lap, and -had shown him that Caddy was laughing (she laughed expressly for the -purpose), that we could recall his peace of mind; even then, it was -for some time conditional on his taking us in turns by the chin, and -smoothing our faces all over with his hand. At last, as his spirits -were not yet equal to the piano, we put him on a chair to look out -of window; and Miss Jellyby, holding him by one leg, resumed her -confidence. - -"It began in your coming to our house," she said. - -We naturally asked how? - -"I felt I was so awkward," she replied, "that I made up my mind to -be improved in that respect, at all events, and to learn to dance. I -told Ma I was ashamed of myself, and I must be taught to dance. Ma -looked at me in that provoking way of hers, as if I wasn't in sight; -but, I was quite determined to be taught to dance, and so I went to -Mr. Turveydrop's Academy in Newman Street." - -"And was it there, my dear----" I began. - -"Yes, it was there," said Caddy, "and I am engaged to Mr. -Turveydrop. There are two Mr. Turveydrops, father and son. My Mr. -Turveydrop is the son, of course. I only wish I had been better -brought up, and was likely to make him a better wife; for I am very -fond of him." - -"I am sorry to hear this," said I, "I must confess." - -"I don't know why you should be sorry," she retorted, a little -anxiously, "but I am engaged to Mr. Turveydrop, whether or no, and -he is very fond of me. It's a secret as yet, even on his side, -because old Mr. Turveydrop has a share in the connection, and it -might break his heart, or give him some other shock, if he was told -of it abruptly. Old Mr. Turveydrop is a very gentlemanly man, -indeed--very gentlemanly." - -"Does his wife know of it?" asked Ada. - -"Old Mr. Turveydrop's wife, Miss Clare?" returned Miss Jellyby, -opening her eyes. "There's no such person. He is a widower." - -We were here interrupted by Peepy, whose leg had undergone so much -on account of his sister's unconsciously jerking it, like a -bell-rope, whenever she was emphatic, that the afflicted child now -bemoaned his sufferings with a very low-spirited noise. As he -appealed to me for compassion, and as I was only a listener, I -undertook to hold him. Miss Jellyby proceeded, after begging Peepy's -pardon with a kiss, and assuring him that she hadn't meant to do it. - -"That's the state of the case," said Caddy. "If I ever blame myself, -I still think it's Ma's fault. We are to be married whenever we can, -and then I shall go to Pa at the office, and write to Ma. It won't -much agitate Ma: I am only pen and ink to _her_. One great comfort -is," said Caddy, with a sob, "that I shall never hear of Africa -after I am married. Young Mr. Turveydrop hates it for my sake; and -if old Mr. Turveydrop knows there is such a place, it's as much as -he does." - -"It was he who was very gentlemanly, I think?" said I. - -"Very gentlemanly, indeed," said Caddy. "He is celebrated, almost -every where, for his Deportment." - -"Does he teach?" asked Ada. - -"No, he don't teach any thing in particular," replied Caddy. "But -his Deportment is beautiful." - -Caddy went on to say, with considerable hesitation and reluctance, -that there was one thing more she wished us to know, and felt we -ought to know, and which, she hoped, would not offend us. It was, -that she had improved her acquaintance with Miss Flite, the little -crazy old lady; and that she frequently went there early in the -morning, and met her lover for a few minutes before breakfast--only -for a few minutes. "_I_ go there, at other times," said Caddy, "but -Prince does not come then. Young Mr. Turveydrop's name is Prince; I -wish it wasn't, because it sounds like a dog, but of course he -didn't christen himself. Old Mr. Turveydrop had him christened -Prince, in remembrance of the Prince Regent. Old Mr. Turveydrop -adored the Prince Regent on account of his Deportment. I hope you -won't think the worse of me for having made these little -appointments at Miss Flite's, where I first went with you; because I -like the poor thing for her own sake, and I believe she likes me. If -you could see young Mr. Turveydrop, I am sure you would think well -of him--at least, I am sure you couldn't possibly think any ill of -him. I am going there now, for my lesson. I couldn't ask you to go -with me, Miss Summerson; but if you would," said Caddy, who had -said all this, earnestly and tremblingly, "I should be very -glad--very glad." - -It happened that we had arranged with my Guardian to go to Miss -Flite's that day. We had told him of our former visit, and our -account had interested him; but something had always happened to -prevent our going there again. As I trusted that I might have -sufficient influence with Miss Jellyby to prevent her taking any -very rash step, if I fully accepted the confidence she was so -willing to place in me, poor girl, I proposed that she, and I, and -Peepy, should go to the Academy, and afterward meet my guardian and -Ada at Miss Flite's--whose name I now learnt for the first time. -This was on condition that Miss Jellyby and Peepy should come back -with us to dinner. The last article of the agreement being joyfully -acceded to by both, we smartened Peepy up a little, with the -assistance of a few pins, some soap and water, and a hair-brush; and -went out: bending our steps toward Newman Street, which was very -near. - -I found the academy established in a sufficiently dingy house at the -corner of an arch-way, with busts in all the staircase windows. In -the same house there were also established, as I gathered from the -plates on the door, a drawing-master, a coal-merchant (there was, -certainly, no room for his coals), and a lithographic artist. On the -plate which, in size and situation, took precedence of all the rest, -I read, MR. TURVEYDROP. The door was open, and the hall was blocked -up by a grand piano, a harp, and several other musical instruments -in cases, all in progress of removal, and all looking rakish in the -daylight. Miss Jellyby informed me that the academy had been lent, -last night, for a concert. - -We went up-stairs--it had been quite a fine house once, when it was -any body's business to keep it clean and fresh, and nobody's -business to smoke in it all day--and into Mr. Turveydrop's great -room, which was built out into a mews at the back, and was lighted -by a skylight. It was a bare, resounding room, smelling of stables; -with cane forms along the walls; and the walls ornamented at regular -intervals with painted lyres, and little cut-glass branches for -candles, which seemed to be shedding their old-fashioned drops as -other branches might shed autumn leaves. Several young lady pupils, -ranging from thirteen or fourteen years of age to two or three and -twenty, were assembled; and I was looking among them for their -instructor, when Caddy, pinching my arm, repeated the ceremony of -introduction. "Miss Summerson, Mr. Prince Turveydrop!" - -[Illustration: THE DANCING SCHOOL.] - -I courtesied to a little blue-eyed fair man of youthful appearance, -with flaxen hair parted in the middle, and curling at the ends all -round his head. He had a little fiddle, which we used to call at -school a kit, under his left arm, and its little bow in the same -hand. His little dancing-shoes were particularly diminutive, and he -had a little innocent, feminine manner, which not only appealed to -me in an amiable way, but made this singular effect upon me: that -I received the impression that he was like his mother, and that his -mother had not been much considered or well used. - -"I am very happy to see Miss Jellyby's friend," he said, bowing low -to me. "I began to fear," with timid tenderness, "as it was past the -usual time, that Miss Jellyby was not coming." - -"I beg you will have the goodness to attribute that to me, who have -detained her, and to receive my excuses, sir," said I. - -"O dear!" said he. - -"And pray," I entreated, "do not allow me to be the cause of any -more delay." - -With that apology I withdrew to a seat between Peepy (who, being -well used to it, had already climbed into a corner-place), and an -old lady of a censorious countenance, whose two nieces were in the -class, and who was very indignant with Peepy's boots. Prince -Turveydrop then tinkled the strings of his kit with his fingers, and -the young ladies stood up to dance. Just then, there appeared from a -side-door, old Mr. Turveydrop, in the full lustre of his Deportment. - -He was a fat old gentleman with a false complexion, false teeth, -false whiskers, and a wig. He had a fur collar, and he had a padded -breast to his coat, which only wanted a star or a broad blue ribbon -to be complete. He was pinched in and swelled out, and got up, and -strapped down, as much as he could possibly bear. He had such a -neck-cloth on (puffing his very eyes out of their natural shape), -and his chin and even his ears so sunk into it, that it seemed as -though he must inevitably double up, if it were cast loose. He had, -under his arm, a hat of great size and weight, shelving downward -from the crown to the brim; and in his hand a pair of white gloves, -with which he flapped it, as he stood poised on one leg, in a -high-shouldered, round-elbowed state of elegance not to be -surpassed. He had a cane, he had an eye-glass, he had a snuff-box, -he had rings, he had wristbands, he had every thing but any touch of -nature; he was not like youth, he was not like age, he was like -nothing in the world but a model of Deportment. - -"Father! A visitor. Miss Jellyby's friend, Miss Summerson." - -"Distinguished," said Mr. Turveydrop, "by Miss Summerson's -presence." As he bowed to me in that tight state, I almost believed -I saw creases come into the whites of his eyes. - -"My father," said the son, aside to me, with quite an affecting -belief in him, "is a celebrated character. My father is greatly -admired." - -"Go on, Prince! Go on!" said Mr. Turveydrop, standing with his back -to the fire, and waving his gloves condescendingly. "Go on, my son!" - -At this command, or by this gracious permission, the lesson went on. -Prince Turveydrop, sometimes, played the kit, dancing; sometimes -played the piano, standing; sometimes hummed the tune with what -little breath he could spare, while he set a pupil right; always -conscientiously moved with the least proficient through every step -and every part of the figure; and never rested for an instant. His -distinguished father did nothing whatever, but stand before the -fire, a model of Deportment. - -"And he never does any thing else," said the old lady of the -censorious countenance. "Yet, would you believe that it's _his_ name -on the door-plate?" - -"His son's name is the same, you know," said I. - -"He wouldn't let his son have any name, if he could take it from -him," returned the old lady. "Look at the son's dress!" It certainly -was plain--threadbare--almost shabby. "Yet the father must be -garnished and tricked out," said the old lady, "because of his -Deportment. I'd deport him! Transport him would be better!" - -I felt curious to know more, concerning this person. I asked, "Does -he give lessons in Deportment, now?" - -"Now!" returned the old lady, shortly. "Never did." - -After a moment's consideration, I suggested that perhaps fencing had -been his accomplishment. - -"I don't believe he can fence at all, ma'am," said the old lady. - -I looked surprised and inquisitive. The old lady, becoming more and -more incensed against the Master of Deportment as she dwelt upon the -subject, gave me some particulars of his career, with strong -assurances that they were mildly stated. - -He had married a meek little dancing-mistress, with a tolerable -connection (having never in his life before done any thing but -deport himself), and had worked her to death, or had, at the best, -suffered her to work herself to death, to maintain him in those -expenses which were indispensable to his position. At once to -exhibit his Deportment to the best models, and to keep the best -models constantly before himself, he had found it necessary to -frequent all public places of fashionable and lounging resort; to be -seen at Brighton and elsewhere at fashionable times, and to lead an -idle life in the very best clothes. To enable him to do this, the -affectionate little dancing-mistress had toiled and labored, and -would have toiled and labored to that hour, if her strength had -lasted so long. For, the mainspring of the story was, that, in spite -of the man's absorbing selfishness, his wife (overpowered by his -Deportment) had, to the last, believed in him, and had, on her -death-bed in the most moving terms, confided him to their son as one -who had an inextinguishable claim upon him, and whom he could never -regard with too much pride and deference. The son, inheriting his -mother's belief, and having the Deportment always before him, had -lived and grown in the same faith, and now, at thirty years of age, -worked for his father twelve hours a day, and looked up to him with -veneration on the old imaginary pinnacle. - -"The airs the fellow gives himself!" said my informant, shaking her -head at old Mr. Turveydrop with speechless indignation, as he drew -on his tight gloves; of course unconscious of the homage she was -rendering. "He fully believes he is one of the aristocracy! And he -is so condescending to the son he so egregiously deludes, that you -might suppose him the most virtuous of parents. O!" said the old -lady, apostrophizing him with infinite vehemence, "I could bite -you!" - -I could not help being amused, though I heard the old lady out with -feelings of real concern. It was difficult to doubt her, with the -father and son before me. What I might have thought of them without -the old lady's account, or what I might have thought of the old -lady's account without them, I can not say. There was a fitness of -things in the whole that carried conviction with it. - -My eyes were yet wandering, from young Mr. Turveydrop working so -hard to old Mr. Turveydrop deporting himself so beautifully, when -the latter came ambling up to me, and entered into conversation. - -He asked me, first of all, whether I conferred a charm and a -distinction on London by residing in it? I did not think it -necessary to reply that I was perfectly aware I should not do that, -in any case, but merely told him where I did reside. - -"A lady so graceful and accomplished," he said, kissing his right -glove, and afterward extending it toward the pupils, "will -look leniently on the deficiencies here. We do our best to -polish--polish--polish!" - -He sat down beside me; taking some pains to sit on the form, I -thought, in imitation of the print of his illustrious model on the -sofa. And really he did look very like it. - -"To polish--polish--polish!" he repeated, taking a pinch of snuff, -and gently fluttering his fingers. "But we are not--if I may say so, -to one formed to be graceful both by Nature and Art;" with the -high-shouldered bow, which it seemed impossible for him to make -without lifting up his eyebrows and shutting his eyes--"we are not -what we used to be in point of Deportment." - -"Are we not, sir?" said I. - -"We have degenerated," he returned, shaking his head, which he could -do, to a very limited extent, in his cravat. "A leveling age is not -favorable to Deportment. It develops vulgarity. Perhaps I speak with -some little partiality. It may not be for me to say that I have been -called, for some years now, Gentleman Turveydrop; or that His Royal -Highness the Prince Regent did me the honor to inquire, on my -removing my hat as he drove out of the Pavilion at Brighton (that -fine building), 'Who is he? Who the Devil is he? Why don't I know -him? Why hasn't he thirty thousand a year?' But these are little -matters of anecdote--the general property, ma'am--still repeated, -occasionally among the upper classes." - -"Indeed?" said I. - -He replied with the high-shouldered bow. "Where what is left among -us of Deportment," he added, "still lingers. England--alas, my -country!--has degenerated very much, and is degenerating every day. -She has not many gentlemen left. We are few. I see nothing to -succeed us, but a race of weavers." - -"One might hope that the race of gentlemen would be perpetuated -here," said I. - -"You are very good," he smiled, with the high-shouldered bow again. -"You flatter me. But, no--no! I have never been able to imbue my -poor boy with that part of his art. Heaven forbid that I should -disparage my dear child, but he has--no Deportment." - -"He appears to be an excellent master," I observed. - -"Understand me, my dear madam, he is an excellent master. All that -can be acquired, he has acquired. All that can be imparted, he can -impart. But there _are_ things"--he took another pinch of snuff and -made the bow again, as if to add, "this kind of thing, for -instance." - -I glanced toward the centre of the room, where Miss Jellyby's lover, -now engaged with single pupils, was undergoing greater drudgery than -ever. - -"My amiable child," murmured Mr. Turveydrop, adjusting his cravat. - -"Your son is indefatigable," said I. - -"It is my reward," said Mr. Turveydrop, "to hear you say so. In some -respects, he treads in the footsteps of his sainted mother. She was -a devoted creature. But Wooman, lovely Wooman," said Mr. Turveydrop, -with very disagreeable gallantry, "what a sex you are!" - -I rose and joined Miss Jellyby, who was, by this time, putting on -her bonnet. The time allotted to a lesson having fully elapsed, -there was a general putting on of bonnets. When Miss Jellyby and the -unfortunate Prince found an opportunity to become betrothed I don't -know, but they certainly found none, on this occasion, to exchange a -dozen words. - -"My dear," said Mr. Turveydrop benignly to his son, "do you know the -hour?" - -"No, father." The son had no watch. The father had a handsome gold -one, which he pulled out, with an air that was an example to -mankind. - -"My son," said he, "it's two o'clock. Recollect your school at -Kensington at three." - -"That's time enough for me, father," said Prince. "I can take a -morsel of dinner, standing, and be off." - -"My dear boy," returned his father, "you must be very quick. You -will find the cold mutton on the table." - -"Thank you, father. Are _you_ off now, father?" - -"Yes, my dear. I suppose," said Mr. Turveydrop, shutting his eyes -and lifting up his shoulders, with modest consciousness, "that I -must show myself, as usual, about town." - -"You had better dine out comfortably, somewhere," said his son. - -"My dear child, I intend to. I shall take my little meal, I think, -at the French house, in the Opera Colonnade." - -"That's right. Good-by, father!" said Prince, shaking hands. - -"Good-by, my son. Bless you!" - -Mr. Turveydrop said this in quite a pious manner, and it seemed to -do his son good; who, in parting from him, was so pleased with him, -so dutiful to him, and so proud of him, that I almost felt as if it -were an unkindness to the younger man not to be able to believe -implicitly in the elder. The few moments that were occupied by -Prince in taking leave of us (and particularly of one of us, as I -saw, being in the secret), enhanced my favorable impression of his -almost childish character. I felt a liking for him, and a compassion -for him, as he put his little kit in his pocket--and with it his -desire to stay a little while with Caddy--and went away -good-humoredly to his cold mutton and his school at Kensington, that -made me scarcely less irate with his father than the censorious old -lady. - -The father opened the room door for us, and bowed us out, in a -manner, I must acknowledge, worthy of his shining original. In the -same style he presently passed us on the other side of the street, -on his way to the aristocratic part of the town, where he was going -to show himself among the few other gentlemen left. For some -moments, I was so lost in reconsidering what I had heard and seen in -Newman Street, that I was quite unable to talk to Caddy, or even to -fix my attention on what she said to me; especially, when I began to -inquire in my mind whether there were, or ever had been, any other -gentlemen, not in the dancing profession, who lived and founded a -reputation entirely on their Deportment. This became so bewildering, -and suggested the possibility of so many Mr. Turveydrops, that I -said, "Esther, you must make up your mind to abandon this subject -altogether, and attend to Caddy." I accordingly did so, and we -chatted all the rest of the way to Lincoln's Inn. - -Caddy told me that her lover's education had been so neglected, that -it was not always easy to read his notes. She said, if he were not -so anxious about his spelling, and took less pains to make it clear, -he would do better; but he put so many unnecessary letters into -short words, that they sometimes quite lost their English -appearance. "He does it with the best intentions," observed Caddy, -"but it hasn't the effect he means, poor fellow!" Caddy then went on -to reason, how could he be expected to be a scholar, when he had -passed his whole life in the dancing-school, and had done nothing -but teach and fag, fag and teach, morning, noon, and night! And what -did it matter? She could write letters enough for both, as she knew -to her cost, and it was far better for him to be amiable than -learned. "Besides, it's not as if I was an accomplished girl who had -any right to give herself airs," said Caddy. "I know little enough, -I am sure, thanks to Ma!" - -"There's another thing I want to tell you, now we are alone," -continued Caddy, "which I should not have liked to mention unless -you had seen Prince, Miss Summerson. You know what a house ours is. -It's of no use my trying to learn any thing that it would be useful -for Prince's wife to know, in our house. We live in such a state of -muddle that it's impossible, and I have only been more disheartened -whenever I have tried. So, I get a little practice with--who do you -think? Poor Miss Flite! Early in the morning, I help her to tidy her -room, and clean her birds; and I make her cup of coffee for her (of -course she taught me), and I have learnt to make it so well that -Prince says it's the very best coffee he ever tasted, and would -quite delight old Mr. Turveydrop, who is very particular indeed -about his coffee. I can make little puddings too; and I know how to -buy neck of mutton, and tea, and sugar, and butter, and a good many -housekeeping things. I am not clever at my needle, yet," said Caddy, -glancing at the repairs on Peepy's frock, "but perhaps I shall -improve. And since I have been engaged to Prince, and have been -doing all this, I have felt better-tempered, I hope, and more -forgiving to Ma. It rather put me out, at first this morning, to see -you and Miss Clare looking so neat and pretty, and to feel -ashamed of Peepy and myself too; but on the whole, I hope I am -better-tempered than I was, and more forgiving to Ma." - -The poor girl, trying so hard, said it from her heart, and touched -mine. "Caddy, my love," I replied, "I begin to have a great -affection for you, and I hope we shall become friends." "Oh, do -you?" cried Caddy; "how happy that would make me!" "My dear Caddy," -said I, "let us be friends from this time, and let us often have a -chat about these matters, and try to find the right way through -them." Caddy was overjoyed. I said every thing I could, in my -old-fashioned way, to comfort and encourage her; and I would not -have objected to old Mr. Turveydrop, that day, for any smaller -consideration than a settlement on his daughter-in-law. - -By this time, we were come to Mr. Krook's, whose private door stood -open. There was a bill, pasted on the door-post, announcing a room -to let on the second floor. It reminded Caddy to tell me as we -proceeded up-stairs, that there had been a sudden death there, and -an inquest; and that our little friend had been ill of the fright. -The door and window of the vacant room being open, we looked in. It -was the room with the dark door, to which Miss Flite had secretly -directed my attention when I was last in the house. A sad and -desolate place it was; a gloomy, sorrowful place, that gave me a -strange sensation of mournfulness and even dread. "You look pale," -said Caddy, when we came out, "and cold!" I felt as if the room had -chilled me. - -We had walked slowly, while we were talking; and my Guardian and Ada -were here before us. We found them in Miss Flite's garret. They were -looking at the birds, while a medical gentleman who was so good as -to attend Miss Flite with much solicitude and compassion, spoke with -her cheerfully by the fire. - -"I have finished my professional visit," he said, coming forward. -"Miss Flite is much better, and may appear in court (as her mind is -set upon it) to-morrow. She has been greatly missed there, I -understand." - -Miss Flite received the compliment with complacency, and dropped a -general courtesy to us. - -"Honored, indeed," said she, "by another visit from the Wards in -Jarndyce! Ve-ry happy to receive Jarndyce of Bleak House beneath my -humble roof!" with a special courtesy. "Fitz-Jarndyce, my dear;" she -had bestowed that name on Caddy, it appeared, and always called her -by it; "a double welcome!" - -"Has she been very ill?" asked Mr. Jarndyce of the gentleman whom we -had found in attendance on her. She answered for herself directly, -though he had put the question in a whisper. - -"O, decidedly unwell! O, very unwell indeed," she said, -confidentially. "Not pain, you know--trouble. Not bodily so much as -nervous, nervous! The truth is," in a subdued voice and trembling, -"we have had death here. There was poison in the house. I am very -susceptible to such horrid things. It frightened me. Only Mr. -Woodcourt knows how much. My physician, Mr. Woodcourt!" with -great stateliness. "The Wards in Jarndyce--Jarndyce of Bleak -House--Fitz-Jarndyce!" - -"Miss Flite," said Mr. Woodcourt, in a grave, kind voice as if he -were appealing to her while speaking to us; and laying his hand -gently on her arm; "Miss Flite describes her illness with her usual -accuracy. She was alarmed by an occurrence in the house which might -have alarmed a stronger person, and was made ill by the distress and -agitation. She brought me here in the first hurry of the discovery, -though too late for me to be of any use to the unfortunate man. I -have compensated myself for that disappointment by coming here -since, and being of small use to her." - -"The kindest physician in the college," whispered Miss Flite to me. -"I expect a Judgment. On the day of Judgment. And shall then confer -estates." - -"She will be as well, in a day or two," said Mr. Woodcourt, looking -at her with an observant smile, "as she ever will be. In other -words, quite well, of course. Have you heard of her good fortune?" - -"Most extraordinary!" said Miss Flite, smiling brightly. "You never -heard of such a thing, my dear! Every Saturday, Conversation Kenge, -or Guppy (clerk to Conversation K.), places in my hand a paper of -shillings. Shillings. I assure you! Always the same number in the -paper. Always one for every day in the week. Now you know, really! -So well-timed, is it not? Ye-es! From whence do these papers come, -you say? That is the great question. Naturally. Shall I tell you -what _I_ think? _I_ think," said Miss Flite, drawing herself back -with a very shrewd look, and shaking her right forefinger in a most -significant manner, "that the Lord Chancellor, aware of the length -of time during which the Great Seal has been open (for it has been -open a long time!) forwards them. Until the Judgment I expect, is -given. Now that's very creditable, you know. To confess in that way -that he _is_ a little slow for human life. So delicate! Attending -Court the other day--I attend it regularly--with my documents--I -taxed him with it, and he almost confessed. That is, I smiled at him -from my bench, and _he_ smiled at me from his bench. But it's great -good fortune, is it not? And Fitz-Jarndyce lays the money out for me -to great advantage. O, I assure you to the greatest advantage!" - -I congratulated her (as she addressed herself to me) upon this -fortunate addition to her income, and wished her a long continuance -of it. I did not speculate upon the source from which it came, or -wonder whose humanity was so considerate. My Guardian stood before -me, contemplating the birds, and I had no need to look beyond him. - -"And what do you call these little fellows, ma'am?" said he in his -pleasant voice. "Have they any names?" - -"I can answer for Miss Flite that they have," said I, "for she -promised to tell us what they were. Ada remembers?" - -Ada remembered very well. - -"Did I?" said Miss Flite.--"Who's that at my door? What are you -listening at my door for, Krook?" - -The old man of the house, pushing it open before him, appeared there -with his fur-cap in his hand, and his cat at his heels. - -"_I_ warn't listening, Miss Flite," he said. "I was going to give a -rap with my knuckles, only you're so quick!" - -"Make your cat go down. Drive her away!" the old lady angrily -exclaimed. - -"Bah, bah!--There ain't no danger, gentle-folks," said Mr. Krook, -looking slowly and sharply from one to another, until he had looked -at all of us; "she'd never offer at the birds when I was here, -unless I told her to do it." - -"You will excuse my landlord," said the old lady with a dignified -air. "M, quite M! What do you want, Krook, when I have company?" - -"Hi!" said the old man. "You know I am the Chancellor." - -"Well?" returned Miss Flite. "What of that?" - -"For the Chancellor," said the old man, with a chuckle, "not to be -acquainted with a Jarndyce is queer, ain't it, Miss Flite? Mightn't -I take the liberty?--Your servant, sir. I know Jarndyce and Jarndyce -a'most as well as you do, sir. I knowed old Squire Tom, sir. I never -to my knowledge see you afore though, not even in court. Yet, I go -there a mortal sight of times in the course of the year, taking one -day with another." - -"I never go there," said Mr. Jarndyce (which he never did on any -consideration). "I would sooner go--somewhere else." - -"Would you though?" returned Krook, grinning. "You're bearing hard -upon my noble and learned brother in your meaning, sir; though, -perhaps, it is but nat'ral in a Jarndyce. The burnt child, sir! -What, you're looking at my lodger's birds, Mr. Jarndyce?" The old -man had come by little and little into the room, until he now -touched my Guardian with his elbow, and looked close up into his -face with his spectacled eyes. "It's one of her strange ways, that -she'll never tell the names of these birds if she can help it, -though she named 'em all." This was in a whisper. "Shall I run 'em -over, Flite?" he asked aloud, winking at us and pointing at her as -she turned away, affecting to sweep the grate. - -"If you like," she answered hurriedly. - -The old man, looking up at the cages, after another look at us, went -through the list. - -"Hope, Joy, Youth, Peace, Rest, Life, Dust, Ashes, Waste, Want, -Ruin, Despair, Madness, Death, Cunning, Folly, Words, Wigs, Rags, -Sheepskin, Plunder, Precedent, Jargon, Gammon, and Spinach. That's -the whole collection," said the old man, "all cooped up together, by -my noble and learned brother. - -"This is a bitter wind!" muttered my Guardian. - -"When my noble and learned brother gives his Judgment, they're to be -let go free," said Krook, winking at us again. "And then," he added, -whispering and grinning, "if that ever was to happen--which it -won't--the birds that have never been caged would kill 'em." - -"If ever the wind was in the east," said my Guardian, pretending to -look out of the window for a weathercock, "I think it's there -to-day!" - -We found it very difficult to get away from the house. It was not -Miss Flite who detained us; she was as reasonable a little creature -in consulting the convenience of others, as there possibly could be. -It was Mr. Krook. He seemed unable to detach himself from Mr. -Jarndyce. If he had been linked to him, he could hardly have -attended him more closely. He proposed to show us his Court of -Chancery, and all the strange medley it contained; during the whole -of our inspection (prolonged by himself) he kept close to Mr. -Jarndyce, and sometimes detained him, under one pretense or other, -until we had passed on, as if he were tormented by an inclination to -enter upon some secret subject, which he could not make up his mind -to approach. I can not imagine a countenance and manner more -singularly expressive of caution and indecision, and a perpetual -impulse to do something he could not resolve to venture on, than Mr. -Krook's was, that day. His watchfulness of my Guardian was -incessant. He rarely removed his eyes from his face. If he went on -beside him, he observed him with the slyness of an old white fox. If -he went before, he looked back. When we stood still, he got opposite -to him, and drawing his hand across and across his open mouth with -a curious expression of a sense of power, and turning up his eyes, -and lowering his gray eyebrows until they appeared to be shut, -seemed to scan every lineament of his face. - -At last, having been (always attended by the cat) all over the -house, and having seen the whole stock of miscellaneous lumber, -which was certainly curious, we came into the back part of the shop. -Here, on the head of an empty barrel stood on end, were an -ink-bottle, some old stumps of pens, and some dirty playbills; and -against the wall were pasted several large printed alphabets in -several plain hands. - -"What are you doing here?" asked my Guardian. - -"Trying to learn myself to read and write," said Krook. - -"And how do you get on?" - -"Slow. Bad," returned the old man, impatiently. "It's hard at my -time of life." - -"It would be easier to be taught by some one," said my Guardian. - -"Ay, but they might teach me wrong!" returned the old man, with a -wonderfully suspicious flash of his eye. "I don't know what I may -have lost, by not being learned afore. I wouldn't like to lose any -thing by being learned wrong now." - -"Wrong?" said my Guardian, with his good-humored smile. "Who do you -suppose would teach you wrong?" - -"I don't know, Mr. Jarndyce of Bleak House!" replied the old man, -turning up his spectacles on his forehead, and rubbing his hands. "I -don't suppose as any body would--but I'd rather trust my own self -than another!" - -These answers, and his manner, were strange enough to cause my -Guardian to inquire of Mr. Woodcourt, as we all walked across -Lincoln's Inn together, whether Mr. Krook were really, as his lodger -represented him, deranged? The young surgeon replied, no, he had -seen no reason to think so. He was exceedingly distrustful, as -ignorance usually was, and he was always more or less under the -influence of raw gin: of which he drank great quantities, and of -which he and his back shop, as we might have observed, smelt -strongly; but he did not think him mad, as yet. - -On our way home, I so conciliated Peepy's affections by buying him a -windmill and two flour-sacks, that he would suffer nobody else to -take off his hat and gloves, and would sit nowhere at dinner but at -my side. Caddy sat upon the other side of me, next to Ada, to whom -we imparted the whole history of the engagement as soon as we got -back. We made much of Caddy, and Peepy too; and Caddy brightened -exceedingly; and my Guardian was as merry as we were; and we were -all very happy indeed; until Caddy went home at night in a -hackney-coach, with Peepy fast asleep, but holding tight to the -windmill. - -I have forgotten to mention--at least I have not mentioned--that -Mr. Woodcourt was the same dark young surgeon whom we had met at Mr. -Badger's. Or, that Mr. Jarndyce invited him to dinner that day. Or, -that he came. Or, that when they were all gone, and I said to Ada, -"Now, my darling, let us have a little talk about Richard!" Ada -laughed, and said-- - -But, I don't think it matters what my darling said. She was always -merry. - - -CHAPTER XV.--BELL YARD. - -While we were in London, Mr. Jarndyce was constantly beset by the -crowd of excitable ladies and gentlemen whose proceedings had so -much astonished us. Mr. Quale, who presented himself soon after our -arrival, was in all such excitements. He seemed to project those two -shining knobs of temples of his into every thing that went on, and -to brush his hair farther and farther back, until the very roots -were almost ready to fly out of his head in inappeasable -philanthropy. All objects were alike to him, but he was always -particularly ready for any thing in the way of a testimonial to any -one. His great power seemed to be his power of indiscriminate -admiration. He would sit, for any length of time, with the utmost -enjoyment, bathing his temples in the light of any order of -luminary. Having first seen him perfectly swallowed up in admiration -of Mrs. Jellyby, I had supposed her to be the absorbing object of -his devotion. I soon discovered my mistake, and found him to be -train-bearer and organ-blower to a whole procession of people. - -Mrs. Pardiggle came one day for a subscription to something--and -with her, Mr. Quale. Whatever Mrs. Pardiggle said, Mr. Quale -repeated to us; and just as he had drawn Mrs. Jellyby out, he drew -Mrs. Pardiggle out. Mrs. Pardiggle wrote a letter of introduction to -my Guardian, in behalf of her eloquent friend, Mr. Gusher. With Mr. -Gusher, appeared Mr. Quale again. Mr. Gusher, being a flabby -gentleman with a moist surface, and eyes so much too small for his -moon of a face that they seemed to have been originally made for -somebody else, was not at first sight prepossessing; yet, he was -scarcely seated, before Mr. Quale asked Ada and me, not inaudibly, -whether he was not a great creature--which he certainly was, -flabbily speaking; though Mr. Quale meant in intellectual -beauty--and whether we were not struck by his massive configuration -of brow? In short, we heard of a great many missions of various -sorts, among this set of people; but, nothing respecting them was -half so clear to us, as that it was Mr. Quale's mission to be in -ecstasies with everybody else's mission, and that it was the most -popular mission of all. - -Mr. Jarndyce had fallen into this company, in the tenderness of his -heart and his earnest desire to do all the good in his power; but, -that he felt it to be too often an unsatisfactory company, where -benevolence took spasmodic forms; where charity was assumed, as a -regular uniform, by loud professors and speculators in cheap -notoriety, vehement in profession, restless and vain in action, -servile in the last degree of meanness to the great, adulatory of -one another, and intolerable to those who were anxious quietly to -help the weak from falling, rather than with a great deal of bluster -and self-laudation to raise them up a little way when they were -down; he plainly told us. When a testimonial was originated to Mr. -Quale, by Mr. Gusher (who had already got one, originated by Mr. -Quale), and when Mr. Gusher spoke for an hour and a half on the -subject to a meeting, including two charity schools of small boys -and girls, who were specially reminded of the widow's mite, and -requested to come forward with half-pence and be acceptable -sacrifices; I think the wind was in the east for three whole weeks. - -I mention this, because I am coming to Mr. Skimpole again. It seemed -to me that his off-hand professions of childishness and carelessness -were a great relief to my Guardian, by contrast with such things, -and were the more readily believed in; since, to find one perfectly -undesigning and candid man, among many opposites, could not fail to -give him pleasure. I should be sorry to imply that Mr. Skimpole -divined this, and was politic: I really never understood him well -enough to know. What he was to my Guardian, he certainly was to the -rest of the world. - -He had not been very well; and thus, though he lived in London, we -had seen nothing of him until now. He appeared one morning, in his -usual agreeable way, and as full of pleasant spirits as ever. - -Well, he said, here he was! He had been bilious, but rich men were -often bilious, and therefore he had been persuading himself that he -was a man of property. So he was, in a certain point of view--in his -expansive intentions. He had been enriching his medical attendant in -the most lavish manner. He had always doubled, and sometimes -quadrupled, his fees. He had said to the doctor, "Now my dear -doctor, it is quite a delusion on your part to suppose that you -attend me for nothing. I am overwhelming you with money--in my -expansive intentions--if you only knew it!" And really (he said) he -meant it to that degree, that he thought it much the same as doing -it. If he had had those bits of metal or thin paper to which mankind -attached so much importance, to put in the doctor's hand, he would -have put them in the doctor's hand. Not having them, he substituted -the will for the deed. Very well! If he really meant it--if his will -were genuine and real: which it was--it appeared to him that it was -the same as coin, and canceled the obligation. - -"It may be, partly, because I know nothing of the value of money," -said Mr. Skimpole, "but I often feel this. It seems so reasonable! -My butcher says to me, he wants that little bill. It's a part of the -pleasant unconscious poetry of the man's nature, that he always -calls it a 'little' bill--to make the payment appear easy to both of -us. I reply to the butcher, My good friend, if you knew it, you are -paid. You haven't had the trouble of coming to ask for the little -bill. You are paid. I mean it." - -"But suppose," said my Guardian, laughing, "he had meant the meat in -the bill, instead of providing it?" - -"My dear Jarndyce," he returned, "you surprise me. You take the -butcher's position. A butcher I once dealt with, occupied that very -ground. Says he, 'Sir, why did you eat spring lamb at eighteen pence -a pound?' 'Why did I eat spring lamb at eighteen pence a pound, my -honest friend?' said I, naturally amazed by the question. 'I like -spring lamb!' This was so far convincing. 'Well, sir,' says he, 'I -wish I had meant the lamb, as you mean the money?' 'My good fellow,' -said I, 'pray let us reason like intellectual beings. How could that -be? It was impossible. You _had_ got the lamb, and I have _not_ got -the money. You couldn't really mean the lamb without sending it in, -whereas I can, and do, really mean the money without paying it?' He -had not a word. There was an end of the subject." - -"Did he take no legal proceedings?" inquired my Guardian. - -"Yes, he took legal proceedings," said Mr. Skimpole. "But in that, -he was influenced by passion; not by reason. Passion reminds me of -Boythorn. He writes me that you and the ladies have promised him a -short visit at his bachelor-house in Lincolnshire." - -"He is a great favorite with my girls," said Mr. Jarndyce, "and I -have promised for them." - -"Nature forgot to shade him off, I think?" observed Mr. Skimpole to -Ada and me. "A little too boisterous--like the sea? A little too -vehement--like a bull who has made up his mind to consider every -color scarlet? But I grant a sledge-hammering sort of merit in him!" - -I should have been surprised if those two could have thought very -highly of one another; Mr. Boythorn attaching so much importance to -many things, and Mr. Skimpole caring so little for any thing. -Besides which, I had noticed Mr. Boythorn more than once on the -point of breaking out into some strong opinion, when Mr. Skimpole -was referred to. Of course I merely joined Ada in saying that we had -been greatly pleased with him. - -"He has invited me," said Mr. Skimpole; "and if a child may trust -himself in such hands: which the present child is encouraged to do, -with the united tenderness of two angels to guard him: I shall go. -He proposes to frank me down and back again. I suppose it will cost -money? Shillings perhaps? Or pounds? Or something of that sort? -By-the-by. Coavinses. You remember our friend Coavinses, Miss -Summerson?" - -He asked me as the subject arose in his mind, in his graceful, -light-hearted manner, and without the least embarrassment. - -"O yes?" said I. - -"Coavinses has been arrested by the great Bailiff," said Mr. -Skimpole. "He will never do violence to the sunshine any more." - -It quite shocked me to hear it; for, I had already recalled, with -any thing but a serious association, the image of the man sitting on -the sofa that night, wiping his head. - -"His successor informed me of it yesterday," said Mr. Skimpole, "His -successor is in my house now--in possession, I think he calls it. He -came yesterday, on my blue-eyed daughter's birth-day. I put it to -him. 'This is unreasonable and inconvenient. If you had a blue-eyed -daughter, you wouldn't like _me_ to come, uninvited, on _her_ -birthday?' But he staid." - -Mr. Skimpole laughed at the pleasant absurdity, and lightly touched -the piano by which he was seated. - -"And he told me," he said, playing little chords where I shall put -full stops. "That Coavinses had left. Three children. No mother. And -that Coavinses' profession. Being unpopular. The rising Coavinses. -Were at a considerable disadvantage." - -Mr. Jarndyce got up, rubbing his head, and began to walk about. Mr. -Skimpole played the melody of one of Ada's favorite songs. Ada and I -both looked at Mr. Jarndyce, thinking that we knew what was passing -in his mind. - -After walking, and stopping, and several times leaving off rubbing -his head, and beginning again, my Guardian put his hand upon the -keys and stopped Mr. Skimpole's playing. "I don't like this, -Skimpole," he said, thoughtfully. - -Mr. Skimpole, who had quite forgotten the subject, looked up -surprised. - -"The man was necessary," pursued my Guardian, walking backward and -forward in the very short space between the piano and the end of the -room, and rubbing his hair up from the back of his head as if a high -east wind had blown it into that form. "If we make such men -necessary by our faults and follies, or by our want of worldly -knowledge, or by our misfortunes, we must not revenge ourselves upon -them. There was no harm in his trade. He maintained his children. -One would like to know more about this." - -"O! Coavinses?" cried Mr. Skimpole, at length perceiving what he -meant. "Nothing easier. A walk to Coavinses head-quarters, and you -can know what you will." - -Mr. Jarndyce nodded to us, who were only waiting for the signal. -"Come! We will walk that way, my dears. Why not that way, as soon as -another!" We were quickly ready, and went out. Mr. Skimpole went -with us, and quite enjoyed the expedition. It was so new and so -refreshing, he said, for him to want Coavinses, instead of Coavinses -wanting him! - -He took us, first, to Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane, where there -was a house with barred windows, which he called Coavinses Castle. -On our going into the entry and ringing a bell, a very hideous boy -came out of a sort of office, and looked at us over a spiked -wicket. - -"Who did you want?" said the boy, fitting two of the spikes into his -chin. - -"There was a follower, or an officer, or something, here," said Mr. -Jarndyce, "who is dead." - -"Yes," said the boy. "Well?" - -"I want to know his name, if you please." - -"Name of Neckett," said the boy. - -"And his address?" - -"Bell Yard," said the boy. "Chandler's shop, left hand side, name of -Blinder." - -"Was he--I don't know how to shape the question," murmured my -Guardian--"industrious?" - -"Was Neckett?" said the boy. "Yes, wery much so. He was never tired -of watching. He'd sit upon a post at a street corner, eight or ten -hours at a stretch, if he undertook to do it." - -"He might have done worse," I heard my Guardian soliloquize. "He -might have undertaken to do it, and not done it. Thank you. That's -all I want." - -We left the boy, with his head on one side, and his arms on the -gate, fondling and sucking the spikes, and went back to Lincoln's -Inn, where Mr. Skimpole, who had not cared to remain nearer -Coavinses, awaited us. Then, we all went to Bell Yard: a narrow -alley, at a very short distance. We soon found the chandler's shop. -In it was a good-natured-looking old woman, with a dropsy or an -asthma, or perhaps both. - -"Neckett's children?" said she, in reply to my inquiry. "Yes, -surely, miss. Three pair, if you please. Door right opposite the top -of the stairs." And she handed me a key across the counter. - -I glanced at the key, and glanced at her; but, she took it for -granted that I knew what to do with it. As it could only be intended -for the children's door, I came out, without asking any more -questions, and led the way up the dark stairs. We went as quietly as -we could; but four of us, made some noise on the aged boards; and, -when we came to the second story, we found we had disturbed a man -who was standing there, looking out of his room. - -"Is it Gridley that's wanted?" he said, fixing his eyes on me with -an angry stare. - -"No, sir," said I, "I am going higher up." - -He looked at Ada, and at Mr. Jarndyce, and at Mr. Skimpole: fixing -the same angry stare on each in succession, as they passed and -followed me. Mr. Jarndyce gave him good-day! "Good-day!" he said, -abruptly and fiercely. He was a tall sallow man, with a care-worn -head, on which but little hair remained, a deeply-lined face, and -prominent eyes. He had a combative look; and a chafing, irritable -manner, which, associated with his figure--still large and powerful, -though evidently in its decline--rather alarmed me. He had a pen in -his hand, and, in the glimpse I caught of his room in passing, I saw -that it was covered with a litter of papers. - -Leaving him standing there, we went up to the top room. I tapped at -the door, and a little shrill voice inside said, "We are locked in. -Mrs. Blinder's got the key." - -I applied the key on hearing this, and opened the door. In a poor -room with a sloping ceiling, and containing very little furniture, -was a mite of a boy, some five or six years old, nursing and hushing -a heavy child of eighteen months. There was no fire, though the -weather was cold; both children were wrapped in some poor shawls and -tippets, as a substitute. Their clothing was not so warm, however, -but that their noses looked red and pinched, and their small figures -shrunken, as the boy walked up and down, nursing and hushing the -child, with its head on his shoulder. - -"Who has locked you up here alone?" we naturally asked. - -"Charley," said the boy, standing still to gaze at us. - -"Is Charley your brother?" - -"No. She's my sister, Charlotte. Father called her Charley." - -"Are there any more of you besides Charley?" - -"Me," said the boy "and Emma," patting the limp bonnet of the child -he was nursing. "And Charley." - -"Where is Charley now?" - -"Out a-washing," said the boy, beginning to walk up and down again, -and taking the nankeen bonnet much too near the bedstead, by trying -to gaze at us at the same time. - -We were looking at one another, and at these two children, when -there came into the room a very little girl, childish in figure but -shrewd and older-looking in the face--pretty faced too--wearing a -womanly sort of bonnet much too large for her, and drying her bare -arms on a womanly sort of apron. Her fingers were white and wrinkled -with washing, and the soap-suds were yet smoking which she wiped off -her arms. But for this, she might have been a child, playing at -washing, and imitating a poor working woman with a quick observation -of the truth. - -She had come running from some place in the neighborhood, and had -made all the haste she could. Consequently, though she was very -light, she was out of breath, and could not speak at first, as she -stood panting, and wiping her arms, and looking quietly at us. - -"O, here's Charley!" said the boy. - -The child he was nursing, stretched forth its arms, and cried out to -be taken by Charley. The little girl took it, in a womanly sort of -manner belonging to the apron and the bonnet, and stood looking at -us over the burden that clung to her most affectionately. - -"Is it possible," whispered my Guardian, as we put a chair for the -little creature, and got her to sit down with her load: the boy -keeping close to her, holding to her apron, "that this child works -for the rest? Look at this! For God's sake look at this!" - -It was a thing to look at. The three children close together, and -two of them relying solely on the third, and the third so young and -yet with an air of age and steadiness that sat so strangely on the -childish figure. - -"Charley, Charley!" said my Guardian. "How old are you?" - -"Over thirteen, sir," replied the child. - -"O! What a great age," said my Guardian. "What a great age, -Charley!" - -I can not describe the tenderness with which he spoke to her; half -playfully, yet all the more compassionately and mournfully. - -"And do you live alone here with these babies, Charley?" said my -Guardian. - -"Yes, sir," returned the child, looking up into his face with -perfect confidence, "since father died." - -"And how do you live, Charley? O! Charley," said my Guardian, -turning his face away for a moment, "how do you live?" - -"Since father died, sir, I've gone out to work. I'm out washing -to-day." - -"God help you, Charley!" said my Guardian. "You're not tall enough -to reach the tub!" - -"In pattens I am, sir," she said quickly. "I've got a high pair as -belonged to mother." - -"And when did mother die? Poor mother!" - -"Mother died, just after Emma was born," said the child, glancing at -the face upon her bosom. "Then, father said I was to be as good a -mother to her as I could. And so I tried. And so I worked at home, -and did cleaning and nursing and washing, for a long time before I -began to go out. And that's how I know how; don't you see, sir?" - -"And do you often go out?" - -"As often as I can," said Charley, opening her eyes, and smiling, -"because of earning sixpences and shillings!" - -"And do you always lock the babies up when you go out?" - -"To keep 'em safe, sir, don't you see?" said Charley. "Mrs. Blinder -comes up now and then, and Mr. Gridley comes up sometimes, and -perhaps I can run in sometimes, and they can play, you know, and Tom -ain't afraid of being locked up, are you, Tom?" - -"No-o!" said Tom, stoutly. - -"When it comes on dark, the lamps are lighted down in the court, and -they show up here quite bright--almost quite bright. Don't they, -Tom?" - -"Yes, Charley," said Tom, "almost quite bright." - -"Then he's as good as gold," said the little creature--O! in such a -motherly, womanly way! "And when Emma's tired, he puts her to bed. -And when he's tired, he goes to bed himself. And when I come home -and light the candle, and has a bit of supper, he sits up again and -has it with me. Don't you, Tom?" - -"O yes, Charley!" said Tom. "That I do!" And either in this glimpse -of the great pleasure of his life, or in gratitude and love for -Charley, who was all in all to him, he laid his face among the -scanty folds of her frock, and passed from laughing into crying. - -It was the first time since our entry, that a tear had been shed -among these children. The little orphan girl had spoken of their -father, and their mother, as if all that sorrow were subdued by the -necessity of taking courage, and by her childish importance in being -able to work, and by her bustling busy way. But, now, when Tom -cried, although she sat quite tranquil, looking quietly at us, and -did not by any movement disturb a hair of the head of either of her -little charges, I saw two silent tears fall down her face. - -I stood at the window with Ada, pretending to look at the housetops, -and the blackened stacks of chimneys, and the poor plants, and the -birds in little cages belonging to the neighbors, when I found that -Mrs. Blinder, from the shop below, had come in (perhaps it had taken -her all this time to get up-stairs) and was talking to my Guardian. - -"It's not much to forgive 'em the rent, sir," she said: "who could -take it from them!" - -"Well, well!" said my Guardian to us two. "It is enough that the -time will come when this good woman will find that it _was_ much, -and that forasmuch as she did it unto the least of these--! This -child," he added, after a few moments, "could she possibly continue -this?" - -"Really, sir, I think she might," said Mrs. Blinder, getting her -heavy breath by painful degrees. "She's as handy as it's possible to -be. Bless you, sir, the way she tended them two children, after the -mother died, was the talk of the yard! And it was a wonder to see -her with him after he was took ill, it really was! 'Mrs. Blinder,' -he said to me the very last he spoke--he was lying there--'Mrs. -Blinder, whatever my calling may have been, I see a Angel sitting in -this room last night along with my child, and I trust her to Our -Father!'" - -"He had no other calling?" said my Guardian. - -"No, sir," returned Mrs. Blinder, "he was nothing but a follerer. -When he first came to lodge here, I didn't know what he was, and I -confess that when I found out I gave him notice. It wasn't liked in -the yard. It wasn't approved by the other lodgers. It is _not_ a -genteel calling," said Mrs. Blinder, "and most people do object to -it. Mr. Gridley objected to it, very strong; and he is a good -lodger, though his temper has been hard tried." - -"So you gave him notice?" said my Guardian. - -"So I gave him notice," said Mrs. Blinder. "But really when the time -came, and I knew no other ill of him, I was in doubts. He was -punctual and diligent; he did what he had to do, sir," said Mrs. -Blinder, unconsciously fixing Mr. Skimpole with her eye; "and it's -something, in this world, even to do that." - -"So you kept him, after all?" - -"Why, I said that if he could arrange with Mr. Gridley, I could -arrange it with the other lodgers, and should not so much mind its -being liked or disliked in the yard. Mr. Gridley gave his consent -gruff--but gave it. He was always gruff with him, but he has been -kind to the children since. A person is never known till a person is -proved." - -"Have many people been kind to the children?" asked Mr. Jarndyce. - -"Upon the whole, not so bad, sir," said Mrs. Blinder, "but, -certainly not so many as would have been, if their father's calling -had been different. Mr. Coavins gave a guinea, and the follerers -made up a little purse. Some neighbors in the yard, that had always -joked and tapped their shoulders when he went by, came forward with -a little subscription, and--in general--not so bad. Similarly with -Charlotte. Some people won't employ her because she was a follerer's -child; some people that do employ her, cast it at her; some make a -merit of having her to work for them, with that and all her -drawbacks upon her: and perhaps pay her less and put upon her more. -But she's patienter than others would be, and is clever too, and -always willing, up to the full mark of her strength and over. So I -should say, in general, not so bad sir, but might be better." - -Mrs. Blinder sat down to give herself a more favorable opportunity -of recovering her breath, exhausted anew by so much talking before -it was fully restored. Mr. Jarndyce was turning to speak to us, when -his attention was attracted by the abrupt entrance into the room of -the Mr. Gridley who had been mentioned, and whom we had seen on our -way up. - -"I don't know what you may be doing here, ladies and gentlemen," he -said, as if he resented our presence, "but you'll excuse my coming -in. I don't come in, to stare about me. Well, Charley! Well, Tom! -Well, little one! How is it with us all to-day?" - -He bent over the group, in a caressing way, and clearly was regarded -as a friend by the children, though his face retained its stern -character, and his manner to us was as rude as it could be. My -Guardian noticed it, and respected it. - -"No one, surely, would come here to stare about him," he said -mildly. - -"May be so, sir, may be so," returned the other, taking Tom upon his -knee, and waving him off impatiently. "I don't want to argue with -ladies and gentlemen. I have had enough of arguing, to last one man -his life." - -"You have sufficient reason, I dare say," said Mr. Jarndyce, "for -being chafed and irritated--" - -"There again!" exclaimed the man, becoming violently angry. "I am of -a quarrelsome temper. I am irascible. I am not polite!" - -"Not very, I think." - -"Sir," said Gridley, putting down the child, and going up to him as -if he mean to strike him, "Do you know any thing of Courts of -Equity?" - -"Perhaps I do, to my sorrow." - -"To your sorrow?" said the man, pausing in his wrath. "If so, I beg -your pardon. I am not polite, I know. I beg your pardon! Sir," with -renewed violence, "I have been dragged for five-and-twenty years -over burning iron, and I have lost the habit of treading upon -velvet. Go into the Court of Chancery yonder, and ask what is one of -the standing jokes that brighten up their business sometimes, and -they will tell you that the best joke they have, is the man from -Shropshire. I," he said, beating one hand on the other passionately, -"am the man from Shropshire." - -"I believe, I and my family have also had the honor of furnishing -some entertainment in the same grave place," said my Guardian, -composedly. "You may have heard my name--Jarndyce." - -"Mr. Jarndyce," said Gridley, with a rough sort of salutation, "you -bear your wrongs more quietly than I can bear mine. More than that, -I tell you--and I tell this gentleman, and these young ladies, if -they are friends of yours--that if I took my wrongs in any other -way, I should be driven mad! It is only by resenting them, and by -revenging them in my mind, and by angrily demanding the justice I -never get, that I am able to keep my wits together. It is only -that!" he said, speaking in a homely, rustic way, and with great -vehemence. "You may tell me that I over-excite myself. I answer that -it's in my nature to do it, under wrong, and I must do it. There's -nothing between doing it, and sinking into the smiling state of the -poor little mad woman that haunts the Court. If I was once to sit -down under it, I should become imbecile." - -The passion and heat in which he was, and the manner in which his -face worked, and the violent gestures with which he accompanied what -he said, were most painful to see. - -"Mr. Jarndyce," he said, "consider my case. As true as there is a -Heaven above us, this is my case. I am one of two brothers. My -father (a farmer) made a will, and left his farm and stock, and so -forth, to my mother, for her life. After my mother's death, all was -to come to me, except a legacy of three hundred pounds that I was -then to pay my brother. My mother died. My brother, some time -afterward, claimed his legacy. I, and some of my relations, said -that he had had a part of it already, in board and lodging, and some -other things. Now, mind! That was the question, and nothing else. No -one disputed the will! no one disputed any thing but whether part of -that three hundred pounds had been already paid or not. To settle -that question, my brother filing a bill, I was obliged to go into -this accursed Chancery; I was forced there, because the law forced -me, and would let me go nowhere else. Seventeen people were made -defendants to that simple suit! It first came on, after two years. -It was then stopped for another two years, while the Master (may his -head rot off!) inquired whether I was my father's son--about which, -there was no dispute at all with any mortal creature. He then found -out, that there were not defendants enough--remember, there were -only seventeen as yet!--but, that we must have another who had been -left out; and must begin all over again. The costs at that -time--before the thing was begun!--were three times the legacy. My -brother would have given up the legacy, and joyful, to escape more -costs. My whole estate, left to me in that will of my father's, has -gone in costs. The suit still undecided, has fallen into rack, and -ruin, and despair, with every thing else--and here I stand this day! -Now, Mr. Jarndyce, in your suit there are thousands and thousands -involved where in mine there are hundreds. Is mine less hard to -bear, or is it harder to bear, when my whole living was in it, and -has been thus shamefully sucked away?" - -Mr. Jarndyce said that he condoled with him with all his heart, and -that he set up no monopoly, himself, in being unjustly treated by -this monstrous system. - -"There again!" said Mr. Gridley, with no diminution of his rage. -"The system! I am told, on all hands, it's the system. I mustn't -look to individuals. It's the system. I mustn't go into Court, and -say, 'My Lord, I beg to know this from you--is this right or wrong? -Have you the face to tell me I have received justice, and therefore -am dismissed?' My Lord knows nothing of it. He sits there to -administer the system. I mustn't go to Mr. Tulkinghorn, the -solicitor in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and say to him when he makes me -furious, by being so cool and satisfied--as they all do; for I know -they gain by it while I lose, don't I?--I mustn't say to him, I will -have something out of some one for my ruin, by fair means or foul! -_He_ is not responsible. It's the system. But if I do no violence to -any of them, here--I may! I don't know what may happen if I am -carried beyond myself at last!--I will accuse the individual workers -of that system against me, face to face, before the great eternal -bar!" - -His passion was fearful. I could not have believed in such rage -without seeing it. - -"I have done!" he said, sitting down and wiping his face. "Mr. -Jarndyce, I have done! I am violent, I know. I ought to know it. I -have been in prison for contempt of Court. I have been in prison for -threatening the solicitor. I have been in this trouble, and that -trouble, and shall be again. I am the man from Shropshire, and I -sometimes go beyond amusing them--though they have found it amusing, -too, to see me committed into custody, and brought up in custody, -and all that. It would be better for me, they tell me, if I -restrained myself. I tell them, that if I did restrain myself, I -should become imbecile. I was a good-enough-tempered man once, I -believe. People in my part of the country, say, they remember me so; -but, now, I must have this vent under my sense of injury, or nothing -could hold my wits together. 'It would be far better for you, Mr. -Gridley,' the Lord Chancellor told me last week, 'not to waste your -time here, and to stay, usefully employed, down in Shropshire.' 'My -Lord, my Lord, I know it would,' said I to him, 'and it would have -been far better for me never to have heard the name of your high -office; but, unhappily for me, I can't undo the past, and the past -drives me here!'--Besides," he added, breaking fiercely out, "I'll -shame them. To the last, I'll show myself in that court to its -shame. If I knew when I was going to die, and could be carried -there, and had a voice to speak with, I would die there, saying, -'You have brought me here, and sent me from here, many and many a -time. Now send me out, feet foremost!'" - -His countenance had, perhaps for years, become so set in its -contentious expression that it did not soften, even now when he was -quiet. - -"I came to take these babies down to my room for an hour," he said, -going to them again, "and let them play about. I didn't mean to say -all this, but it don't much signify. You're not afraid of me, Tom; -are you?" - -"No!" said Tom. "You ain't angry with _me_." - -"You are right, my child. You're going back, Charley? Ay? Come then, -little one!" He took the youngest child on his arm, where she was -willing enough to be carried. "I shouldn't wonder if we found a -gingerbread soldier down-stairs. Let's go and look for him!" - -He made his former rough salutation, which was not deficient in a -certain respect, to Mr. Jarndyce; and bowing slightly to us, went -down-stairs to his room. - -Upon that, Mr. Skimpole began to talk, for the first time since our -arrival, in his usual gay strain. He said, Well, it was really very -pleasant to see how things lazily adapted themselves to purposes. -Here was this Mr. Gridley, a man of a robust will, and surprising -energy--intellectually speaking, a sort of inharmonious -black-smith--and he could easily imagine that there Gridley was, -years ago, wandering about in life for something to expend his -superfluous combativeness upon--a sort of Young Love among the -thorns--when the Court of Chancery came in his way, and accommodated -him with the exact thing he wanted. There they were, matched ever -afterward! Otherwise he might have been a great general, blowing up -all sorts of towns, or he might have been a great politician, -dealing in all sorts of parliamentary rhetoric; but, as it was, he -and the Court of Chancery had fallen upon each other in the -pleasantest way, and nobody was much the worse, and Gridley was, so -to speak, from that hour provided for. Then look at Coavinses! How -delightfully poor Coavinses (father of these charming children) -illustrated the same principle! He, Mr. Skimpole, himself, had -sometimes repined at the existence of Coavinses. He had found -Coavinses in his way. He could have dispensed with Coavinses. There -had been times, when, if he had been a Sultan, and his Grand Vizier -had said one morning, "What does the Commander of the Faithful -require at the hands of his slave?" he might have even gone so far -as to reply, "The head of Coavinses!" But what turned out to be the -case? That, all that time, he had been giving employment to a most -deserving man; that he had been a benefactor to Coavinses; that he -had actually been enabling Coavinses to bring up these charming -children in this agreeable way, developing these social virtues! -Insomuch that his heart had just now swelled, and the tears had -come into his eyes, when he had looked round the room, and thought, -"_I_ was the great patron of Coavinses, and his little comforts were -_my_ work!" - -There was something so captivating in his light way of touching -these fantastic strings, and he was such a mirthful child by the -side of the graver childhood we had seen, that he made my Guardian -smile even as he turned toward us from a little private talk with -Mrs. Blinder. We kissed Charley, and took her down stairs with us, -and stopped outside the house to see her run away to her work. I -don't know where she was going, but we saw her run, such a little, -little creature, in her womanly bonnet and apron, through a covered -way at the bottom of the court; and melt into the city's strife and -sound, like a dew-drop in an ocean. - - -CHAPTER XVI.--TOM-ALL-ALONE'S. - -My Lady Dedlock is restless, very restless. The astonished -fashionable intelligence hardly knows where to have her. To-day, she -is at Chesney Wold; yesterday, she was at her house in town; -to-morrow, she may be abroad, for any thing the fashionable -intelligence can with confidence predict. Even Sir Leicester's -gallantry has some trouble to keep pace with her. It would have -more, but that his other faithful ally, for better and for -worse--the gout--darts into the old oak bed-chamber at Chesney Wold, -and grips him by both legs. - -Sir Leicester receives the gout as a troublesome demon, but still a -demon of the patrician order. All the Dedlocks, in the direct male -line, through a course of time during and beyond which the memory of -man goeth not to the contrary, have had the gout. It can be proved, -sir. Other men's fathers may have died of the rheumatism, or may -have taken base contagion from the tainted blood of the sick vulgar; -but, the Dedlock family have communicated something exclusive, even -to the leveling process of dying, by dying of their own family gout. -It has come down, through the illustrious line, like the plate, or -the pictures, or the place in Lincolnshire. It is among their -dignities. Sir Leicester is, perhaps, not wholly without an -impression, though he has never resolved it into words, that the -angel of death in the discharge of his necessary duties may observe -to the shades of the aristocracy, "My lords and gentlemen, I have -the honor to present to you another Dedlock, certified to have -arrived per the family gout." - -Hence, Sir Leicester yields up his family legs to the family -disorder, as if he held his name and fortune on that feudal tenure. -He feels, that for a Dedlock to be laid upon his back and -spasmodically twitched and stabbed in his extremities, is a liberty -taken somewhere; but, he thinks, "We have all yielded to this; it -belongs to us; it has, for some hundreds of years, been understood -that we are not to make the vaults in the park interesting on more -ignoble terms; and I submit myself to the compromise." - -And a goodly show he makes, lying in a flush of crimson and gold, in -the midst of the great drawing-room, before his favorite picture of -my Lady, with broad strips of sunlight shining in, down the long -perspective, through the long line of windows, and alternating with -soft reliefs of shadow. Outside, the stately oaks, rooted for ages -in the green ground which has never known plowshare, but was still a -Chase when kings rode to battle with sword and shield, and rode -a-hunting with bow and arrow; bear witness to his greatness. Inside, -his forefathers, looking on him from the walls, say, "Each of us was -a passing reality here, and left this colored shadow of himself, and -melted into remembrance as dreamy as the distant voices of the rooks -now lulling you to rest;" and bear their testimony to his greatness -too. And he is very great, this day. And woe to Boythorn, or other -daring wight, who shall presumptuously contest an inch with him! - -My Lady is at present represented, near Sir Leicester, by her -portrait. She has flitted away to town, with no intention of -remaining there, and will soon flit hither again, to the confusion -of the fashionable intelligence. The house in town is not prepared -for her reception. It is muffled and dreary. Only one Mercury in -powder, gapes disconsolate at the hall-window; and he mentioned last -night to another Mercury of his acquaintance, also accustomed to -good society, that if that sort of thing was to last--which it -couldn't, for a man of his spirits couldn't bear it, and a man of -his figure couldn't be expected to bear it--there would be no -resource for him, upon his honor, but to cut his throat! - -What connection can there be between the place in Lincolnshire, the -house in town, the Mercury in powder, and the whereabout of Jo the -outlaw with the broom, who had that distant ray of light upon him -when he swept the churchyard-step? What connection can there have -been between many people in the innumerable histories of this world, -who, from opposite sides of great gulfs, have, nevertheless, been -very curiously brought together! - -Jo sweeps his crossing all day long, unconscious of the link, if any -link there be. He sums up his mental condition, when asked a -question, by replying that he "don't know nothink." He knows that -it's hard to keep the mud off the crossing in dirty weather, and -harder still to live by doing it. Nobody taught him, even that much; -he found it out. - -Jo lives--that is to say, Jo has not yet died--in a ruinous place, -known to the like of him by the name of Tom-all-alone's. It is a -black, dilapidated street, avoided by all decent people; where the -crazy houses were seized upon, when their decay was far advanced, by -some bold vagrants, who, after establishing their own possession, -took to letting them out in lodgings. Now these tumbling tenements -contain, by night, a swarm of misery. As, on the ruined human -wretch, vermin parasites appear, so, these ruined shelters have bred -a crowd of foul existence, that crawls in and out of gaps in walls -and boards; and coils itself to sleep, in maggot numbers, where the -rain drips in; and comes and goes, fetching and carrying fever, and -sowing more evil in its every footprint than Lord Coodle, and Sir -Thomas Doodle, and the Duke of Foodle, and all the fine gentlemen in -office, down to Zoodle, shall set right in five hundred -years--though born expressly to do it. - -Twice, lately, there has been a crash and a cloud of dust, like the -springing of a mine, in Tom-all-alone's; and, each time, a house has -fallen. These accidents have made a paragraph in the newspapers, and -have filled a bed or two in the nearest hospital. The gaps remain, -and there are not unpopular lodgings among the rubbish. As -several more houses are nearly ready to go, the next crash in -Tom-all-alone's may be expected to be a good one. - -This desirable property is in Chancery, of course. It would be an -insult to the discernment of any man with half an eye, to tell him -so. Whether "Tom" is the popular representative of the original -plaintiff or defendant in Jarndyce and Jarndyce; or, whether Tom -lived here when the suit had laid the street waste, all alone, until -other settlers came to join him, or, whether the traditional title -is a comprehensive name for a retreat cut off from honest company -and put out of the pale of hope; perhaps nobody knows. Certainly, Jo -don't know. - -"For _I_ don't," says Jo, "_I_ don't know nothink." - -It must be a strange state to be like Jo! To shuffle through the -streets, unfamiliar with the shapes, and in utter darkness as to the -meaning, of those mysterious symbols, so abundant over the shops, -and at the corners of streets, and on the doors, and in the windows! -To see people read, and to see people write, and to see the postmen -deliver letters, and not to have the least idea of all that -language--to be, to every scrap of it, stone blind and dumb! It must -be very puzzling to see the good company going to the churches on -Sundays, with their books in their hands, and to think (for perhaps -Jo _does_ think, at odd times) what does it all mean, and if it -means any thing to any body, how comes it that it means nothing to -me? To be hustled, and jostled and moved on; and really to feel that -it would appear to be perfectly true that I have no business, here, -or there, or any where; and yet to be perplexed by the consideration -that I _am_ here somehow too, and every body overlooked me until I -became the creature that I am! It must be a strange state, not -merely to be told that I am scarcely human (as in the case of my -offering myself for a witness), but to feel it of my own knowledge -all my life! To see the horses, dogs, and cattle, go by me, and to -know that in ignorance I belong to them, and not to the superior -beings in my shape, whose delicacy I offend! Jo's ideas of a -Criminal Trial, or a Judge, or a Bishop, or a Government, or that -inestimable jewel to him (if he only knew it) the Constitution, -should be strange! His whole material and immaterial life is -wonderfully strange; his death, the strangest thing of all. - -Jo comes out of Tom-all-alone's, meeting the tardy morning which is -always late in getting down there, and munches his dirty bit of -bread as he comes along. His way lying through many streets, and the -houses not yet being open, he sits down to breakfast on the -door-step of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in -Foreign Parts, and gives it a brush when he has finished, as an -acknowledgment of the accommodation. He admires the size of the -edifice, and wonders what it's all about. He has no idea, poor -wretch, of the spiritual destitution of a coral reef in the Pacific, -or what it costs to look up the precious souls among the cocoa-nuts -and bread-fruit. - -He goes to his crossing, and begins to lay it out for the day. The -town awakes; the great tee-totum is set up for its daily spin and -whirl; all that unaccountable reading and writing, which has been -suspended for a few hours, recommences. Jo, and the other lower -animals, get on in the unintelligible mess as they can. It is -market-day. The blinded oxen, over-goaded, over-driven, never -guided, run into wrong places and are beaten out; and plunge, -red-eyed and foaming, at stone walls; and often sorely hurt the -innocent, and often sorely hurt themselves. Very like Jo and his -order; very, very like! - -A band of music comes and plays. Jo listens to it. So does a dog--a -drover's dog, waiting for his master outside a butcher's shop, and -evidently thinking about those sheep he has had upon his mind for -some hours, and is happily rid of. He seems perplexed respecting -three or four; can't remember where he left them; looks up and down -the street, as half expecting to see them astray; suddenly pricks up -his ears and remembers all about it. A thoroughly vagabond dog, -accustomed to low company and public-houses; a terrific dog to -sheep; ready at a whistle to scamper over their backs, and tear out -mouthfuls of their wool; but an educated, improved, developed dog, -who has been taught his duties and knows how to discharge them. He -and Jo listen to the music, probably with much the same amount of -animal satisfaction; likewise, as to awakened association, -aspiration or regret, melancholy or joyful reference to things -beyond the senses, they are probably upon a par. But, otherwise, how -far above the human listener is the brute! - -Turn that dog's descendants wild, like Jo, and in a very few years -they will so degenerate that they will lose even their bark--but not -their bite. - -The day changes as it wears itself away, and becomes dark and -drizzly. Jo fights it out, at his crossing, among the mud and -wheels, the horses, whips, and umbrellas, and gets but a scanty sum -to pay for the unsavory shelter of Tom-all-alone's. Twilight comes -on; gas begins to start up in the shops; the lamp-lighter, with his -ladder, runs along the margin of the pavement. A wretched evening -is beginning to close in. - -In his chambers, Mr. Tulkinghorn sits meditating an application to -the nearest magistrate to-morrow morning for a warrant. Gridley, a -disappointed suitor, has been here to-day, and has been alarming. We -are not to be put in bodily fear, and that ill-conditioned fellow -shall be held to bail again. From the ceiling, foreshortened -allegory, in the person of one impossible Roman upside down, points -with the arm of Samson (out of joint, and an odd one) obtrusively -toward the window. Why should Mr. Tulkinghorn, for such no reason, -look out of window? Is the hand not always pointing there? So he -does not look out of window. - -And if he did, what would it be to see a woman going by? There are -women enough in the world, Mr. Tulkinghorn thinks--too many; they -are at the bottom of all that goes wrong in it though, for the -matter of that, they create business for lawyers. What would it be -to see a woman going by, even though she were going secretly? They -are all secret. Mr. Tulkinghorn knows that, very well. - -But they are not all like the woman who now leaves him and his house -behind; between whose plain dress, and her refined manner, there is -something exceedingly inconsistent. She should be an upper servant -by her attire, yet, in her air and step, though both are hurried and -assumed--as far as she can assume in the muddy streets, which she -treads with an unaccustomed foot--she is a lady. Her face is vailed, -and still she sufficiently betrays herself to make more than one of -those who pass her look round sharply. - -She never turns her head. Lady or servant, she has a purpose in her, -and can follow it. She never turns her head, until she comes to the -crossing where Jo plies with his broom. He crosses with her, and -begs. Still, she does not turn her head until she has landed on the -other side. Then, she slightly beckons to him, and says, "Come -here!" - -Jo follows her, a pace or two, into a quiet court. - -"Are you the boy I have read of in the papers?" she asks, behind her -vail. - -"I don't know," says Jo, staring moodily at the vail, "nothink about -no papers. I don't know nothink about nothink at all." - -"Were you examined at an Inquest?" - -"I don't know nothink about no--where I was took by the beadle, do -you mean?" says Jo. "Was the boy's name at the Inkwhich, Jo?" - -"Yes." - -"That's me!" says Jo. - -"Come farther up." - -"You mean about the man?" says Jo, following. "Him as was dead?" - -"Hush! Speak in a whisper! Yes. Did he look, when he was living, so -very ill and poor!" - -"O jist!" says Jo. - -"Did he look like--not like _you_?" says the woman with abhorrence. - -"O not so bad as me," says Jo. "I'm a reg'lar one, _I_ am! You -didn't know him, did you?" - -"How dare you ask me if I knew him?" - -"No offense, my lady," says Jo, with much humility; for even he has -got at the suspicion of her being a lady. - -"I am not a lady. I am a servant." - -"You are a jolly servant!" says Jo; without the least idea of saying -any thing offensive; merely as a tribute of admiration. - -"Listen and be silent. Don't talk to me, and stand farther from me! -Can you show me all those places that were spoken of in the account -I read? The place he wrote for, the place he died at, the place -where you were taken to, and the place where he was buried? Do you -know the place where he was buried?" - -Jo answers with a nod; having also nodded as each other place was -mentioned. - -"Go before me, and show me all those dreadful places. Stop opposite -to each, and don't speak to me unless I speak to you. Don't look -back. Do what I want, and I will pay you well." - -Jo attends closely while the words are being spoken; tells them off -on his broom-handle, finding them rather hard; pauses to consider -their meaning; considers it satisfactory, and nods his ragged head. - -"I am fly," says Jo. "But fen larks, you know! Stow hooking it!" - -"What does the horrible creature mean?" exclaims the servant, -recoiling from him. - -"Stow cutting away, you know!" says Jo. - -"I don't understand you. Go on before! I will give you more money -than you ever had in your life." - -Jo screws up his mouth into a whistle, gives his ragged head a rub, -takes his broom under his arm, and leads the way; passing deftly, -with his bare feet, over the hard stones, and through the mud and -mire. - -Cook's Court. Jo stops. A pause. - -"Who lives here?" - -"Him wot give him his writing, and give me half a bull," says Jo in -a whisper, without looking over his shoulder. - -"Go on to the next." - -Krook's house. Jo stops again. A longer pause. - -"Who lives here!" - -"_He_ lived here," Jo answers as before. - -After a silence, he is asked "In which room?" - -"In the back room up there. You can see the winder from this corner. -Up there! That's where I see him stritched out. This is the public -ouse where I was took to." - -"Go on to the next!" - -It is a longer walk to the next; but, Jo relieved of his first -suspicions, sticks to the terms imposed upon him, and does not look -round. By many devious ways, reeking with offense of many kinds, -they come to the little tunnel of a court, and to the gas-lamp -(lighted now), and to the iron gate. - -"He was put there," says Jo, holding to the bars and looking in. - -"Where? O, what a scene of horror!" - -"There!" says Jo, pointing. "Over yinder. Among them piles of bones, -and close to that there kitchin winder! They put him very nigh the -top. They was obliged to stamp upon it to git it in. I could unkiver -it for you, with my broom, if the gate was open. That's why they -locks it, I s'pose," giving it a shake. "It's always locked. Look at -the rat!" cries Jo, excited. "Hi! Look! There he goes! Ho! Into the -ground!" - -The servant shrinks into a corner--into a corner of that hideous -archway, with its deadly stains contaminating her dress; and putting -out her two hands, and passionately telling him to keep away from -her, for he is loathsome to her, so remains for some moments. Jo -stands staring, and is still staring when she recovers herself. - -[Illustration: CONSECRATED GROUND.] - -"Is this place of abomination, consecrated ground?" - -"I don't know nothink of consequential ground," says Jo, still -staring. - -"Is it blessed?" - -"WHICH?" says Jo, in the last degree amazed. - -"Is it blessed?" - -"I'm blest if I know," says Jo, staring more than ever; "but I -shouldn't think it warn't. Blest?" repeats Jo, something troubled in -his mind. "It an't done it much good if it is. Blest? I should think -it was t'othered myself. But _I_ don't know nothink!" - -The servant takes as little heed of what he says, as she seems to -take of what she has said herself. She draws off her glove, to get -some money from her purse. Jo silently notices how white and small -her hand is, and what a jolly servant she must be to wear such -sparkling rings. - -She drops a piece of money in his hand, without touching it, and -shuddering as their hands approach. "Now," she adds, "show me the -spot again!" - -Joe thrusts the handle of his broom between the bars of the gate, -and, with his utmost power of elaboration, points it out. At length, -looking aside to see if he has made himself intelligible, he finds -that he is alone. - -His first proceeding is, to hold the piece of money to the -gas-light, and to be overpowered at finding that it is yellow--gold. -His next, is, to give it a one-sided bite at the edge, as a test of -its quality. His next, to put it in his mouth for safety, and to -sweep the step and passage with great care. His job done, he sets -off for Tom-all-alone's; stopping in the light of innumerable -gas-lamps to produce the piece of gold, and give it another -one-sided bite, as a re-assurance of its being genuine. - -The Mercury in powder is in no want of society to-night, for my Lady -goes to a grand dinner and three or four balls. Sir Leicester is -fidgety, down at Chesney Wold, with no better company than the gout; -he complains to Mrs. Rouncewell that the rain makes such a -monotonous pattering on the terrace, that he can't read the paper, -even by the fireside in his own snug dressing-room. - -"Sir Leicester would have done better to try the other side of the -house, my dear," says Mrs. Rouncewell to Rosa. "His dressing-room is -on my Lady's side. And in all these years I never heard the step -upon the Ghost's Walk, more distinct than it is to-night!" - - -(TO BE CONTINUED.) - - - FOOTNOTE: - - [7] Continued from the July Number. - - - - -MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.[8] - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -We have seen Squire Hazeldean (proud of the contents of his -pocket-book, and his knowledge of the mercenary nature of foreign -women), set off on his visit to Beatrice di Negra. Randal, thus left -musing lone in the crowded streets, revolved with astute complacency -the probable results of Mr. Hazeldean's bluff negotiation; and, -convincing himself that one of his vistas toward Fortune was -becoming more clear and clear, he turned, with the restless activity -of some founder of destined cities in a new settlement, to lop the -boughs that cumbered and obscured the others. For truly, like a man -in a vast Columbian forest, opening entangled space, now with the -ready ax, now with the patient train, that kindles the slower fire, -this child of civilized life went toiling on against surrounding -obstacles, resolute to destroy, but ever scheming to construct. And -now Randal has reached Levy's dainty business-room, and is buried -deep in discussion how to secure to himself, at the expense of his -patron, the representation of Lansmere, and how to complete the -contract which shall reannex to his forlorn inheritance some -fragments of its ancient wealth. - -Meanwhile, Chance fought on his side in the boudoir of May Fair. The -Squire had found the Marchesa at home--briefly introduced himself -and his business--told her she was mistaken if she had fancied she -had taken in a rich heir in his son--that, thank Heaven, he could -leave his estates to his plowman, if he so pleased, but that he was -willing to do things liberally; and whatever she thought Frank was -worth, he was very ready to pay for. - -At another time Beatrice would perhaps have laughed at this strange -address; or she might, in some prouder moment, have fired up with -all a patrician's resentment and a woman's pride; but now her spirit -was crushed, her nerves shattered; the sense of her degraded -position, of her dependence on her brother, combined with her -supreme unhappiness at the loss of those dreams with which Leonard -had for a while charmed her wearied waking life--all came upon her. -She listened, pale and speechless; and the poor Squire thought he -was quietly advancing toward a favorable result, when she suddenly -burst into a passion of hysterical tears; and just at that moment -Frank himself entered the room. At the sight of his father, of -Beatrice's grief, his sense of filial duty gave way. He was maddened -by irritation--by the insult offered to the woman he loved, which a -few trembling words from her explained to him; maddened yet more by -the fear that the insult had lost her to him--warm words ensued -between son and father, to close with the peremptory command and -vehement threat of the last. - -"Come away this instant, sir! Come with me, or before the day is -over I strike you out of my will!" - -The son's answer was not to his father; he threw himself at -Beatrice's feet. - -"Forgive him--forgive us both--" - -"What! you prefer that stranger to me--to the inheritance of -Hazeldean!" cried the Squire, stamping his foot. - -"Leave your estates to whom you will; all that I care for in life is -here!" - -The Squire stood still a moment or so, gazing on his son, with a -strange bewildered marvel at the strength of that mystic passion, -which none not laboring under its fearful charm can comprehend, -which creates the sudden idol that no reason justifies, and -sacrifices to its fatal shrine alike the Past and the Future. Not -trusting himself to speak, the father drew his hand across his eyes, -and dashed away the bitter tear that sprang from a swelling -indignant heart; then he uttered an inarticulate sound, and, finding -his voice gone, moved away to the door, and left the house. - -He walked through the streets, bearing his head very erect, as a -proud man does when deeply wounded, and striving to shake off some -affection that he deems a weakness; and his trembling, nervous -fingers fumbled at the button on his coat, trying to tighten the -garment across his chest, as if to confirm a resolution that still -sought to struggle out of the revolting heart. - -Thus he went on, and the reader, perhaps, will wonder whither; and -the wonder may not lessen when he finds the Squire come to a dead -pause in Grosvenor Square, and at the portico of his "distant -brother's" stately house. - -At the Squire's brief inquiry whether Mr. Egerton was at home, the -porter summoned the groom of the chambers; and the groom of the -chambers, seeing a stranger, doubted whether his master was not -engaged, but would take in the stranger's card and see. - -"Ay, ay," muttered the Squire, "this is true relationship--my child -prefers a stranger to me. Why should I complain that I am a stranger -in a brother's house. Sir," added the Squire aloud, and very -meekly--"Sir, please to say to your master that I am William -Hazeldean." - -The servant bowed low, and without another word conducted the -visitor into the statesman's library, and announcing Mr. Hazeldean, -closed the door. - -Audley was seated at his desk, the grim iron boxes still at his -feet, but they were now closed and locked. And the ex-minister was -no longer looking over official documents; letters spread open -before him, of far different nature; in his hand there lay a long -lock of fair silken hair, on which his eyes were fixed sadly and -intently. He started at the sound of his visitor's name, and the -tread of the Squire's stalwart footstep; and mechanically thrust -into his bosom the relic of younger and warmer years, keeping his -hand to his heart, which beat loud with disease, under the light -pressure of that golden hair. - -The two brothers stood on the great man's lonely hearth, facing each -other in silence, and noting unconsciously the change made in each -during the long years in which they had never met. - -The Squire, with his portly size, his hardy, sun-burnt cheeks, the -partial baldness of his unfurrowed open forehead, looked his -full age--deep into middle life. Unmistakably he seemed the -_paterfamilias_--the husband and the father--the man of social -domestic ties. But about Audley (really some few years junior to the -Squire), despite the lines of care on his handsome face, there still -lingered the grace of youth. Men of cities retain youth longer than -those of the country--a remark which Buffon has not failed to make -and to account for. Neither did Egerton betray the air of the -married man; for ineffable solitariness seemed stamped upon the man, -whose private life had long been so stern a solitude. No ray from -the focus of Home played round that reserved, unjoyous, melancholy -brow. In a word, Audley looked still the man for whom some young -female heart might fondly sigh; and not the less because of the cold -eye and compressed lip, which challenged interest even while seeming -to repel it. - -Audley was the first to speak, and to put forth the right hand, -which he stole slowly from its place at his breast, on which the -lock of hair still stirred to and fro at the heave of the laboring -heart. "William," said he, with his rich, deep voice, "this is -kind. You are come to see me, now that men say I am fallen. The -minister you censured is no more; and you see again the brother." - -The Squire was softened at once by this address. He shook heartily -the hand tendered to him; and then, turning away his head, with an -honest conviction that Audley ascribed to him a credit which he did -not deserve, he said, "No, no, Audley; I am more selfish than you -think me. I have come--I have come to ask your advice--no, not -exactly that--your opinion. But you are busy--?" - -"Sit down, William. Old days were coming over me when you entered; -days earlier still return now--days, too, that leave no shadow when -their suns are set." - -The proud man seemed to think he had said too much. His practical -nature rebuked the poetic sentiment and phrase. He re-collected -himself, and added, more coldly, "You would ask my opinion? What on? -Some public matter--some Parliamentary bill that may affect your -property?" - -"Am I such a mean miser as that? Property--property? What does -property matter, when a man is struck down at his own hearth? -Property, indeed! But you have no child--happy brother!" - -"Ay, ay; as you say, I am a happy man; childless! Has your son -displeased you? I have heard him spoken of well, too." - -"Don't talk of him. Whether his conduct be good or ill is my -affair," resumed the poor father with a testy voice--jealous alike -of Audley's praise or blame of his rebellious son. Then he rose a -moment, and made a strong gulp as if for air; and laying his broad -brown hand on his brother's shoulder, said, "Randal Leslie tells me -you are wise--a consummate man of the world. No doubt you are -so. And Parson Dale tells me that he is sure you have warm -feelings--which I take to be a strange thing for one who has lived -so long in London, and has no wife and no child--a widower, and a -Member of Parliament--for a commercial city, too. Never smile; it is -no smiling matter with me. You know a foreign woman, called Negra or -Negro--not a blackymoor, though, by any means--at least on the -outside of her. Is she such a woman as a plain country gentleman -would like his only son to marry--ay or no?" - -"No, indeed," answered Audley, gravely, "and I trust your son will -commit no action so rash. Shall I see him or her? Speak, my dear -William. What would you have me do?" - -"Nothing; you have said enough," replied the Squire, gloomily; and -his head sank on his breast. - -Audley took his hand, and pressed it fraternally. "William," said -the statesman, "we have been long estranged; but I do not forget -that when we last met, at--at Lord Lansmere's house, and when I took -you aside, and said, 'William, if I lose this election, I must -resign all chance of public life: my affairs are embarrassed; I may -need--I would not accept money from you--I would seek a profession, -and you can help me there,' you divined my meaning, and said--'Take -orders; the Hazeldean living is just vacant. I will get some one to -hold it till you are ordained.' I do not forget that. Would that I -had thought earlier of so serene an escape from all that then -tormented me. My lot might have been far happier." - -The Squire eyed Audley with a surprise that broke forth from his -more absorbing emotions. "Happier! Why, all things have prospered -with you; and you are rich enough now; and--you shake your head. -Brother, is it possible! do you want money? Pooh, not accept money -from your mother's son!--stuff." Out came the Squire's pocket-book. -Audley put it gently aside. - -"Nay," said he, "I have enough for myself; but since you seek and -speak with me thus affectionately, I will ask you one favor. Should -I die before I can provide for my wife's kinsman, Randal Leslie, as -I could wish, will you see to his fortunes, so far as you can, -without injury to others--to your own son?" - -"My son! He _is_ provided for. He has the Casino estate--much good -may it do him. You have touched on the very matter that brought me -here. This boy, Randal Leslie, seems a praiseworthy lad, and has -Hazeldean blood in his veins. You have taken him up because he is -connected with your late wife. Why should not I take him up, too, -when his grandmother was a Hazeldean? I wanted to ask you what you -meant to do for him; for if you did not mean to provide for him, why -I will, as in duty bound. So your request comes at the right time; I -think of altering my will. I can put him into the entail, besides a -handsome legacy. You are sure he is a good lad--and it will please -you too, Audley?" - -"But not at the expense of your son. And stay, William--as to this -foolish marriage with Madame di Negra, who told you Frank meant to -take such a step?" - -"He told me himself; but it is no matter. Randal and I both did all -we could to dissuade him; and Randal advised me to come to you." - -"He has acted generously, then, our kinsman Randal--I am glad to -hear it"--said Audley, his brow somewhat clearing. "I have no -influence with this lady; but at least, I can counsel her. Do not -consider the marriage fixed because a young man desires it. Youth is -ever hot and rash." - -"Your youth never was," retorted the Squire, bluntly. "You married -well enough, I'm sure. I will say one thing for you: you have been, -to my taste, a bad politician--beg pardon--but you were always a -gentleman. You would never have disgraced your family and married -a--" - -"Hush!" interrupted Egerton, gently. "Do not make matters worse than -they are. Madame di Negra is of high birth in her own country; and -if scandal--" - -"Scandal!" cried the Squire, shrinking and turning pale. "Are you -speaking of the wife of a Hazeldean? At least, she shall never sit -by the hearth at which now sits his mother; and whatever I may do -for Frank, her children shall not succeed. No mongrel cross-breed -shall kennel in English Hazeldean. Much obliged to you, Audley, for -your good feeling--glad to have seen you; and harkye, you startled -me by that shake of your head, when I spoke of your wealth; and, -from what you say about Randal's prospects, I guess that you London -gentlemen are not so thrifty as we are. You _shall_ let me speak. I -say again, that I have some thousands quite at your service. And -though you are not a Hazeldean, still you are my mother's son; and -now that I am about to alter my will, I can as well scratch in the -name of Egerton as that of Leslie. Cheer up, cheer up; you are -younger than I am, and you have no child; so you will live longer -than I shall." - -"My dear brother," answered Audley, "believe me, I shall never live -to want your aid. And as to Leslie, add to the £5000 I mean to give -him, an equal sum in your will, and I shall feel that he has -received justice." - -Observing that the Squire, though he listened attentively, made no -ready answer, Audley turned the subject again to Frank; and with the -adroitness of a man of the world, backed by cordial sympathy in his -brother's distress, he pleaded so well Frank's lame cause, urged so -gently the wisdom of patience and delay, and the appeal to filial -feeling rather than recourse to paternal threats, that the Squire -grew molified in spite of himself, and left his brother's house a -much less angry, and less doleful man. - -Mr. Hazeldean was still in the square when he came upon Randal -himself, who was walking with a dark-whiskered, showy gentleman, -toward Egerton's house. Randal and the gentleman exchanged a hasty -whisper, and the former exclaimed, - -"What, Mr. Hazeldean, have you just left your brother's house? Is it -possible?" - -"Why, you advised me to go there, and I did. I scarcely knew what I -was about. I am very glad I did go. Hang politics! hang the landed -interest! what do I care for either now?" - -"Foiled with Madame di Negra?" asked Randal, drawing the Squire -aside. - -"Never speak of her again!" cried the Squire, fiercely. "And as to -that ungrateful boy--but I don't mean to behave harshly to him--he -shall have money enough to keep her if he likes--keep her from -coming to me--keep him, too, from counting on my death, and -borrowing post-obits on the Casino--for he'll be doing that -next--no, I hope I wrong him there; I have been too good a father -for him to count on my death already. After all," continued the -Squire, beginning to relax, "as Audley says, the marriage is not yet -made; and if the woman has taken him in, he is young, and his heart -is warm. Make yourself easy, my boy. I don't forget how kindly you -took his part; and before I do any thing rash, I'll at least take -advice with his poor mother." - -Randal gnawed his pale lip, and a momentary cloud of disappointment -passed over his face. - -"True, sir," said he, gently; "true, you must not be rash. Indeed, I -was thinking of you and poor dear Frank at the very moment I met -you. It occurred to me whether we might not make Frank's very -embarrassments a reason to induce Madame di Negra to refuse him; and -I was on my way to Mr. Egerton, in order to ask his opinion, in -company with the gentleman yonder." - -"Gentleman yonder? Why should he thrust his long nose into my family -affairs? Who the devil is he?" - -"Don't ask, sir. Pray let me act." - -But the Squire continued to eye askant the dark-whiskered personage -thus thrust between himself and his son, and who waited patiently a -few yards in the rear, carelessly readjusting the camellia in his -button-hole. - -"He looks very outlandish. Is he a foreigner, too?" asked the -Squire, at last. - -"No, not exactly. However, he knows all about Frank's -embarrassments; and--" - -"Embarrassments! what, the debt he paid for that woman? How did he -raise the money?" - -"I don't know," answered Randal; "and that is the reason I asked -Baron Levy to accompany me to Egerton's, that he might explain in -private what I have no reason--" - -"Baron Levy!" interrupted the Squire. "Levy, Levy--I have heard of a -Levy who has nearly ruined my neighbor, Thornhill--a money-lender. -Zounds! is that the man who knows my son's affairs? I'll soon learn, -sir." - -Randal caught hold of the Squire's arm: "Stop, stop; if you really -insist upon learning more about Frank's debts, you must not appeal -to Baron Levy directly, and as Frank's father; he will not answer -you. But if I present you to him as a mere acquaintance of mine, and -turn the conversation, as if carelessly, upon Frank--why, since, in -the London world, such matters are never kept secret except from the -parents of young men--I have no doubt he will talk out openly." - -"Manage it as you will," said the Squire. - -Randal took Mr. Hazeldean's arm, and joined Levy--"A friend of mine -from the country, Baron." Levy bowed profoundly, and the three -walked slowly on. - -"By-the-by," said Randal, pressing significantly upon Levy's arm, -"my friend has come to town upon the somewhat unpleasant business of -settling the debts of another--a young man of fashion--a relation of -his own. No one, sir (turning to the Squire), could so ably assist -you in such arrangements as could Baron Levy." - -BARON (modestly, and with a moralizing air).--"I have some -experience in such matters, and I hold it a duty to assist the -parents and relations of young men who, from want of reflection, -often ruin themselves for life. I hope the young gentleman in -question is not in the hands of the Jews?" - -RANDAL.--"Christians are as fond of good interest for their money as -ever the Jews can be." - -BARON.--"Granted, but they have not always so much money to lend. -The first thing, sir (addressing the Squire)--the first thing for -you to do is to buy up such of your relation's bills and notes of -hand as may be in the market. No doubt we can get them a bargain, -unless the young man is heir to some property that may soon be his -in the course of nature." - -RANDAL.--"Not soon--heaven forbid! His father is still a young -man--a fine healthy man," leaning heavily on Levy's arm; "and as to -post-obits--" - -BARON.--"Post-obits on sound security cost more to buy up, however -healthy the obstructing relative may be." - -RANDAL.--"I should hope that there are not many sons who can -calculate, in cold blood, on the death of their fathers." - -BARON.--"Ha, ha--he is young, our friend, Randal; eh, sir?" - -RANDAL.--"Well, I am not more scrupulous than others, I dare say: -and I have often been pinched hard for money, but I would go -barefoot rather than give security upon a father's grave! I can -imagine nothing more likely to destroy natural feeling, nor to -instill ingratitude and treachery into the whole character, than to -press the hand of a parent, and calculate when that hand may be -dust--than to sit down with strangers and reduce his life to the -measure of an insurance table--than to feel difficulties gathering -round one, and mutter in fashionable slang, 'But it will be all well -if the governor would but die.' And he who has accustomed himself to -the relief of post-obits must gradually harden his mind to all -this." - -The Squire groaned heavily; and had Randal proceeded another -sentence in the same strain, the Squire would have wept outright. -"But," continued Randal, altering the tone of his voice, "I think -that our young friend of whom we were talking just now, Levy, before -this gentleman joined us, has the same opinion as myself on this -head. He may accept bills, but he would never sign post-obits." - -BARON (who with the apt docility of a managed charger to the touch -of a rider's hand, had comprehended and complied with each quick -sign of Randal's).--"Pooh! the young fellow we are talking of? -Nonsense. He would not be so foolish as to give five times the -percentage he otherwise might. Not sign post-obits! Of course he has -signed one." - -RANDAL.--"Hist--you mistake, you mistake." - -SQUIRE (leaving Randal's arm and seizing Levy's).--"Were you -speaking of Frank Hazeldean?" - -BARON.--"My dear sir, excuse me; I never mention names before -strangers." - -SQUIRE.--"Strangers again! Man, I am the boy's father! Speak out, -sir," and his hand closed on Levy's arm with the strength of an -iron vice. - -BARON.--"Gently; you hurt me, sir; but I excuse your feelings. -Randal, you are to blame for leading me into this indiscretion; but -I beg to assure Mr. Hazeldean, that though his son has been a little -extravagant--" - -RANDAL.--"Owing chiefly to the arts of an abandoned woman." - -BARON.--"Of an abandoned woman; still he has shown more prudence -than you would suppose; and this very post-obit is a proof of it. A -simple act of that kind has enabled him to pay off bills that were -running on till they would have ruined even the Hazeldean estate; -whereas a charge on the reversion of the Casino--" - -SQUIRE.--"He has done it then? He has signed a post-obit?" - -RANDAL.--"No, no; Levy must be wrong." - -BARON.--"My dear Leslie, a man of Mr. Hazeldean's time of life can -not have your romantic boyish notions. He must allow that Frank has -acted in this like a lad of sense--very good head for business has -my young friend Frank! And the best thing Mr. Hazeldean can do is -quietly to buy up the post-obit, and thus he will place his son -henceforth in his own power." - -SQUIRE.--"Can I see the deed with my own eyes?" - -BARON.--"Certainly, or how could you be induced to buy it up? But on -one condition; you must not betray me to your son. And, indeed, take -my advice, and don't say a word to him on the matter." - -SQUIRE.--"Let me see it, let me see it with my own eyes. His mother -else will never believe it--nor will I." - -BARON.--"I can call on you this evening." - -SQUIRE.--"Now--now." - -BARON.--"You can spare me, Randal; and you yourself can open to Mr. -Egerton the other affair, respecting Lansmere. No time should be -lost, lest L'Estrange suggest a candidate." - -_Randal_ (whispering).--"Never mind me.--This is more important. -(Aloud)--Go with Mr. Hazeldean. My dear kind friend (to the Squire), -do not let this vex you so much. After all, it is what nine young -men out of ten would do in the same circumstances. And it is best -you should know it; you may save Frank from farther ruin, and -prevent, perhaps, this very marriage." - -"We will see," exclaimed the Squire, hastily. "Now, Mr. Levy, come." - -Levy and the Squire walked on not arm-in-arm, but side by side. -Randal proceeded to Egerton's house. - -"I am glad to see you, Leslie," said the ex-minister. "What is it I -have heard? My nephew, Frank Hazeldean, proposes to marry Madame di -Negra against his father's consent? How could you suffer him to -entertain an idea so wild? And how never confide it to me?" - -RANDAL.--"My dear Mr. Egerton, it is only to-day that I was informed -of Frank's engagement. I have already seen him, and expostulated in -vain; till then, though I knew your nephew admired Madame di Negra, -I could never suppose he harbored a serious intention." - -EGERTON.--"I must believe you, Randal. I will myself see Madame di -Negra, though I have no power, and no right, to dictate to her. I -have but little time for all such private business. The dissolution -of Parliament is so close at hand." - -RANDAL (looking down.)--"It is on that subject that I wished to -speak to you, sir. You think of standing for Lansmere. Well, Baron -Levy has suggested to me an idea that I could not, of course, even -countenance, till I had spoken to you. It seems that he has some -acquaintance with the state of parties in that borough! He is -informed that it is not only as easy to bring in two of our side, as -to carry one; but that it would make your election still more safe, -not to fight single-handed against two opponents; that if canvassing -for yourself alone, you could not carry a sufficient number of -plumper votes; that split votes would go from you to one or other of -the two adversaries; that, in a word, it is necessary to pair you -with a colleague. If it really be so, you of course will learn best -from your own Committee; but should they concur in the opinion Baron -Levy has formed--do I presume too much on your kindness--to deem it -possible that you might allow me to be the second candidate on your -side? I should not say this, but that Levy told me you had some wish -to see me in Parliament, among the supporters of your policy. And -what other opportunity can occur? Here the cost of carrying two -would be scarcely more than that of carrying one. And Levy says, the -party would subscribe for my election; you, of course, would refuse -all such aid for your own; and indeed, with your great name, and -Lord Lansmere's interest, there can be little beyond the strict -legal expenses." - -As Randal spoke thus at length, he watched anxiously his patron's -reserved, unrevealing countenance. - -EGERTON (drily.)--"I will consider. You may safely leave in my hands -any matter connected with your ambition and advancement. I have -before told you I hold it a duty to do all in my power for the -kinsman of my late wife--for one whose career I undertook to -forward--for one whom honor has compelled to share in my own -political reverses." - -Here Egerton rang the bell for his hat, and gloves, and walking into -the hall, paused at the street door. There beckoning to Randal, he -said slowly, "You seem intimate with Baron Levy; I caution you -against him--a dangerous acquaintance, first to the purse, next to -the honor." - -RANDAL.--"I know it, sir; and am surprised myself at the -acquaintance that has grown up between us. Perhaps its cause is in -his respect for yourself." - -EGERTON.--"Tut." - -RANDAL.--"Whatever it be, he contrives to obtain a singular hold -over one's mind, even where, as in my case, he has no evident -interest to serve. How is this? It puzzles me!" - -EGERTON.--"For his interest, it is most secured where he suffers it -to be least evident; for his hold over the mind, it is easily -accounted for. He ever appeals to two temptations, strong with all -men--Avarice and Ambition.--Good-day." - -RANDAL.--"Are you going to Madame di Negra's? Shall I not accompany -you? Perhaps I may be able to back your own remonstrances." - -EGERTON.--"No, I shall not require you." - -RANDAL.--"I trust I shall hear the result of your interview? I feel -so much interested in it. Poor Frank!" - -Audley nodded. "Of course, of course." - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -On entering the drawing-room of Madame di Negra, the peculiar charm -which the severe Audley Egerton had been ever reputed to possess -with women, would have sensibly struck one who had hitherto seen him -chiefly in his relations with men in the business-like affairs of -life. It was a charm in strong contrast to the ordinary manners of -those who are emphatically called "Ladies' men." No artificial -smile, no conventional hollow blandness, no frivolous gossip, no -varnish either of ungenial gayety or affected grace. The charm was -in a simplicity that unbent more into kindness than it did with men. -Audley's nature, whatever its faults and defects, was essentially -masculine; and it was the sense of masculine power that gave to his -voice a music when addressing the gentler sex--a sort of indulgent -tenderness that appeared equally void of insincerity and -presumption. - -Frank had been gone about half-an-hour, and Madame di Negra was -scarcely recovered from the agitation into which she had been thrown -by the affront from the father and the pleading of the son. - -Egerton took her passive hand cordially, and seated himself by her -side. - -"My dear Marchesa," said he, "are we then likely to be near -connections? And can you seriously contemplate marriage with my -young nephew, Frank Hazeldean? You turn away. Ah, my fair friend, -there are but two inducements to a free woman to sign away her -liberty at the altar. I say a free woman, for widows are free, and -girls are not. These inducements are, first, worldly position; -secondly, love. Which of these motives can urge Madame di Negra to -marry Mr. Frank Hazeldean?" - -"There are other motives than those you speak of--the -need of protection--the sense of solitude--the curse of -dependence--gratitude for honorable affection. But you men never -know women!" - -"I grant that you are right there--we never do; neither do women -ever know men. And yet each sex contrives to dupe and to fool the -other! Listen to me. I have little acquaintance with my nephew, but -I allow he is a handsome young gentleman, with whom a handsome young -lady in her teens might fall in love in a ball-room. But you who -have known the higher order of our species--you who have received -the homage of men, whose thoughts and mind leave the small talk of -drawing-room triflers--so poor and bald--you can not look me in the -face and say that it is any passion resembling love which you feel -for my nephew. And as to position, it is right that I should inform -you that if he marry you he will have none. He may risk his -inheritance. You will receive no countenance from his parents. You -will be poor, but not free. You will not gain the independence you -seek for. The sight of a vacant, discontented face in that opposite -chair will be worse than solitude. And as to grateful affection," -added the man of the world, "it is a polite synonym for tranquil -indifference." - -"Mr. Egerton," said Beatrice, "people say you are made of bronze. -Did you ever feel the want of a home?" - -"I answer you frankly," replied the statesman, "if I had not felt -it, do you think I should have been, and that I should be to the -last, the joyless drudge of public life? Bronze though you call my -nature, it would have melted away long since like wax in the fire, -if I had sat idly down and dreamed of a _Home_!" - -"But we women," answered Beatrice, with pathos, "have no public -life, and we do idly sit down and dream. Oh," she continued, after a -short pause, and clasping her hands firmly together, "you think me -worldly, grasping, ambitious; how different my fate had been had I -known a home!--known one whom I could love and venerate--known one -whose smiles would have developed the good that was once within me, -and the fear of whose rebuking or sorrowful eye would have corrected -what is evil." - -"Yet," answered Audley, "nearly all women in the great world have -had that choice once in their lives, and nearly all have thrown it -away. How few of your rank really think of home when they marry--how -few ask to venerate as well as to love--and how many of every rank, -when the home has been really gained, have willfully lost its -shelter; some in neglectful weariness--some from a momentary doubt, -distrust, caprice--a wild fancy--a passionate fit--a trifle--a -straw--a dream! True, you women are ever dreamers. Common sense, -common earth, is above or below your comprehension." - -Both now were silent, Audley first roused himself with a quick, -writhing movement. "We two," said he, smiling half sadly, half -cynically--"we two must not longer waste time in talking sentiment. -We know both too well what life, as it has been made for us by our -faults or our misfortunes, truly is. And once again, I entreat you -to pause before you yield to the foolish suit of my foolish nephew. -Rely on it, you will either command a higher offer for your prudence -to accept; or, if you needs must sacrifice rank and fortune, you, -with your beauty and your romantic heart, will see one who, at least -for a fair holiday season (if human love allows no more), can repay -you for the sacrifice. Frank Hazeldean never can." - -Beatrice turned away to conceal the tears that rushed to her eyes. - -"Think over this well," said Audley, in the softest tone of his -mellow voice. "Do you remember that when you first came to England, -I told you that neither wedlock nor love had any lures for me. We -grew friends upon that rude avowal, and therefore I now speak to you -like some sage of old, wise because standing apart and aloof from -all the affections and ties that mislead our wisdom. Nothing but -real love--(how rare it is; has one human heart in a million ever -known it!) nothing but real love can repay us for the loss of -freedom--the cares and fears of poverty--the cold pity of the world -that we both despise and respect. And all these, and much more, -follow the step you would inconsiderately take--an imprudent -marriage." - -"Audley Egerton," said Beatrice, lifting her dark, moistened eyes, -"you grant that real love does compensate for an imprudent marriage. -You speak as if you had known such love--you! Can it be possible?" - -"Real love--I thought that I knew it once. Looking back with -remorse, I should doubt it now but for one curse that only real -love, when lost, has the power to leave evermore behind it." - -"What is that?" - -"A void here," answered Egerton, striking his heart. -"Desolation!--Adieu!" - -He rose and left the room. - -"Is it," murmured Egerton, as he pursued his way through the -streets--"is it that, as we approach death, all the first fair -feelings of young life come back to us mysteriously? Thus I have -heard, or read, that in some country of old, children scattering -flowers, preceded a funeral bier." - - -CHAPTER XV. - -And so Leonard stood beside his friend's mortal clay, and watched, -in the ineffable smile of death, the last gleam which the soul had -left there; and so, after a time, he crept back to the adjoining -room with a step as noiseless as if he had feared to disturb the -dead. Wearied as he was with watching, he had no thought of sleep. -He sate himself down by the little table, and leaned his face on his -hand, musing sorrowfully. Thus time passed. He heard the clock from -below strike the hours. In the house of death the sound of a clock -becomes so solemn. The soul that we miss has gone so far beyond the -reach of time! A cold, superstitious awe gradually stole over the -young man. He shivered, and lifted his eyes with a start, half -scornful, half defying. The moon was gone--the gray, comfortless -dawn gleamed through the casement, and carried its raw, chilling -light through the open doorway, into the death-room. And there, near -the extinguished fire, Leonard saw the solitary woman, weeping low, -and watching still. He returned to say a word of comfort--she -pressed his hand, but waved him away. He understood. She did not -wish for other comfort than her quiet relief of tears. Again, he -returned to his own chamber, and his eyes this time fell upon the -papers which he had hitherto disregarded. What made his heart stand -still, and the blood then rush so quickly through his veins? Why did -he seize upon those papers with so tremulous a hand--then lay them -down--pause, as if to nerve himself--and look so eagerly again? He -recognized the handwriting--those fair, clear characters--so -peculiar in their woman-like delicacy and grace--the same as in the -wild, pathetic poems, the sight of which had made an era in his -boyhood. From these pages the image of the mysterious Nora rose once -more before him. He felt that he was with a mother. He went back, -and closed the door gently, as if with a jealous piety, to exclude -each ruder shadow from the world of spirits, and be alone with that -mournful ghost. For a thought written in warm, sunny life, and then -suddenly rising up to us, when the hand that traced, and the heart -that cherished it, are dust, is verily as a ghost. It is a likeness -struck off of the fond human being, and surviving it. Far more -truthful than bust or portrait, it bids us see the tear flow, and -the pulse beat. What ghost can the church-yard yield to us like the -writing of the dead? - -The bulk of the papers had been once lightly sewn to each -other--they had come undone, perhaps in Burley's rude hands; but -their order was easily apparent. Leonard soon saw that they formed a -kind of journal--not, indeed, a regular diary, nor always relating -to the things of the day. There were gaps in time--no attempt at -successive narrative. Sometimes, instead of prose, a hasty burst of -verse, gushing evidently from the heart--sometimes all narrative was -left untold, and yet, as it were, epitomized, by a single burning -line--a single exclamation--of woe, or joy! Everywhere you saw -records of a nature exquisitely susceptible; and where genius -appeared, it was so artless, that you did not call it genius, but -emotion. At the outset the writer did not speak of herself in the -first person. The MS. opened with descriptions and short dialogues, -carried on by persons to whose names only initial letters were -assigned, all written in a style of simple, innocent freshness, and -breathing of purity and happiness, like a dawn of spring. Two young -persons, humbly born--a youth and a girl--the last still in -childhood, each chiefly self-taught, are wandering on Sabbath -evenings among green dewy fields, near the busy town, in which labor -awhile is still. Few words pass between them. You see at once, -though the writer does not mean to convey it, how far beyond the -scope of her male companion flies the heavenward imagination of the -girl. It is he who questions--it is she who answers; and soon there -steals upon you, as you read, the conviction that the youth loves -the girl, and loves in vain. All in this writing, though terse, is -so truthful! Leonard, in the youth, already recognizes the rude, -imperfect scholar--the village bard--Mark Fairfield. Then, there is -a gap in description--but there are short weighty sentences, which -show deepening thought, increasing years, in the writer. And though -the innocence remains, the happiness begins to be less vivid on the -page. - -Now, insensibly, Leonard finds that there is a new phase in the -writer's existence. Scenes, no longer of humble work-day rural life, -surround her. And a fairer and more dazzling image succeeds to the -companion of the Sabbath eves. This image Nora evidently loves to -paint--it is akin to her own genius--it captivates her fancy--it is -an image that she (inborn artist, and conscious of her art) feels to -belong to a brighter and higher school of the Beautiful. And yet the -virgin's heart is not awakened--no trace of the heart yet there. The -new image thus introduced is one of her own years, perhaps; nay, it -may be younger still--for it is a boy that is described, with his -profuse fair curls, and eyes new to grief, and confronting the sun -as a young eagle's; with veins so full of the wine of life, that -they overflow into every joyous whim; with nerves quiveringly alive -to the desire of glory; with the frank generous nature rash in its -laughing scorn of the world, which it has not tried. Who was this -boy, it perplexed Leonard. He feared to guess. Soon, less told than -implied, you saw that this companionship, however it chanced, brings -fear and pain on the writer. Again (as before), with Mark Fairfield, -there is love on the one side and not on the other; with her there -is affectionate, almost sisterly, interest, admiration, -gratitude--but a something of pride or of terror that keeps back -love. - -Here Leonard's interest grew intense. Were there touches by which -conjecture grew certainty; and he recognized, through the lapse of -years, the boy lover in his own generous benefactor? - -Fragments of dialogue now began to reveal the suit of an ardent -impassioned nature, and the simple wonder and strange alarm of a -listener who pitied but could not sympathize. Some great worldly -distinction of rank between the two became visible--that distinction -seemed to arm the virtue and steel the affections of the lowlier -born. Then a few sentences, half blotted out with tears, told of -wounded and humbled feelings--some one invested with authority, as -if the suitor's parent, had interfered, questioned, reproached, -counseled. And it was now evident that the suit was not one that -dishonored;--it wooed to flight, but still to marriage. - -And now these sentences grew briefer still, as with the decision of -a strong resolve. And to these there followed a passage so -exquisite, that Leonard wept unconsciously as he read. It was the -description of a visit spent at home previous to some sorrowful -departure. There rose up the glimpse of a proud and vain, but a -tender wistful mother--of a father's fonder but less thoughtful -love. And then came a quiet soothing scene between the girl and her -first village lover, ending thus--"So she put M's hand into her -sister's, and said: 'You loved me through the fancy, love her with -the heart,' and left them comprehending each other, and betrothed." - -Leonard sighed. He understood now how Mark Fairfield saw in the -homely features of his unlettered wife the reflection of the -sister's soul and face. - -A few words told the final parting--words that were a picture. -The long friendless highway, stretching on--on--toward the -remorseless city. And the doors of home opening on the desolate -thoroughfare--and the old pollard tree beside the threshold, with -the ravens wheeling round it and calling to their young. He too had -watched that threshold from the same desolate thoroughfare. He too -had heard the cry of the ravens. Then came some pages covered with -snatches of melancholy verse, or some reflections of dreamy gloom. - -The writer was in London, in the house of some highborn -patroness--that friendless shadow of a friend which the jargon of -society calls "companion." And she was looking on the bright storm -of the world as through prison bars. Poor bird, afar from the -greenwood, she had need of song--it was her last link with freedom -and nature. The patroness seems to share in her apprehensions of the -boy suitor, whose wild rash prayers the fugitive had resisted: but -to fear lest the suitor should be degraded, not the one whom he -pursues--fears an alliance ill-suited to a highborn heir. And this -kind of fear stings the writer's pride, and she grows harsh in her -judgment of him who thus causes but pain where he proffers love. -Then there is a reference to some applicant for her hand, who is -pressed upon her choice. And she is told that it is her duty so to -choose, and thus deliver a noble family from a dread that endures so -long as her hand is free. And of this fear, and of this applicant, -there breaks out a petulant yet pathetic scorn. After this, the -narrative, to judge by the dates, pauses for days and weeks, as if -the writer had grown weary and listless--suddenly to reopen in a new -strain, eloquent with hopes, and with fears never known before. The -first person was abruptly assumed--it was the living "I" that now -breathed and moved along the lines. How was this? The woman was no -more a shadow and a secret unknown to herself. She had assumed the -intense and vivid sense of individual being. And love spoke loud in -the awakened human heart. - -A personage not seen till then appeared on the page. And ever -afterward this personage was only named as "_He_," as if the one and -sole representative of all the myriads that walk the earth. The -first notice of this prominent character on the scene showed the -restless, agitated effect produced on the writer's imagination. He -was invested with a romance probably not his own. He was described -in contrast to the brilliant boy whose suit she had feared, pitied, -and now sought to shun--described with a grave and serious, but -gentle mein--a voice that imposed respect--an eye and lip that -showed collected dignity of will. Alas! the writer betrayed herself, -and the charm was in the contrast, not to the character of the -earlier lover, but her own. And now, leaving Leonard to explore and -guess his way through the gaps and chasms of the narrative, it is -time to place before the reader what the narrative alone will not -reveal to Leonard. - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -Nora Avenel had fled from the boyish love of Harley -L'Estrange--recommended by Lady Lansmere to a valetudinarian -relative of her own, Lady Jane Horton, as companion. But Lady -Lansmere could not believe it possible that the low-born girl could -long sustain her generous pride, and reject the ardent suit of one -who could offer to her the prospective coronet of a countess. She -continually urged upon Lady Jane the necessity of marrying Nora to -some one of rank less disproportioned to her own, and empowered the -lady to assure any such wooer of a dowry far beyond Nora's station. -Lady Jane looked around, and saw in the outskirts of her limited -social ring, a young solicitor, a peer's natural son, who was on -terms of more than business-like intimacy with the fashionable -clients whose distresses made the origin of his wealth. The young -man was handsome, well-dressed, and bland. Lady Jane invited him to -her house; and, seeing him struck dumb with the rare loveliness of -Nora, whispered the hint of the dower. The fashionable solicitor, -who afterward ripened into Baron Levy, did not need that hint; for, -though then poor, he relied on himself for fortune, and, unlike -Randal, he had warm blood in his veins. But Lady Jane's suggestions -made him sanguine of success; and when he formally proposed, and was -as formally refused, his self-love was bitterly wounded. Vanity in -Levy was a powerful passion; and with the vain, hatred is strong, -revenge is rankling. Levy retired, concealing his rage; nor did he -himself know how vindictive that rage, when it cooled into -malignancy, could become, until the arch-fiend OPPORTUNITY prompted -its indulgence and suggested its design. - -Lady Jane was at first very angry with Nora for the rejection of a -suitor whom she had presented as eligible. But the pathetic grace of -this wonderful girl had crept into her heart, and softened it even -against family prejudice; and she gradually owned to herself that -Nora was worthy of some one better than Mr. Levy. - -Now, Harley had ever believed that Nora returned his love, and that -nothing but her own sense of gratitude to his parents--her own -instincts of delicacy, made her deaf to his prayers. To do him -justice, wild and headstrong as he then was, his suit would have -ceased at once had he really deemed it persecution. Nor was his -error unnatural; for his conversation, till it had revealed his own -heart, could not fail to have dazzled and delighted the child of -genius; and her frank eyes would have shown the delight. How, at his -age, could he see the distinction between the Poetess and the Woman? -The poetess was charmed with rare promise in a soul of which the -very errors were the extravagances of richness and beauty. But the -woman--no! the woman required some nature not yet undeveloped, and -all at turbulent if brilliant strife with its own noble -elements--but a nature formed and full grown. Harley was a boy, and -Nora was one of those women who must find or fancy an Ideal that -commands and almost awes them into love. - -Harley discovered, not without difficulty, Nora's new residence. He -presented himself at Lady Jane's, and she, with grave rebuke, -forbade him the house. He found it impossible to obtain an interview -with Nora. He wrote, but he felt sure that his letters never reached -her, since they were unanswered. His young heart swelled with rage. -He dropped threats, which alarmed all the fears of Lady Lansmere, -and even the prudent apprehensions of his friend, Audley Egerton. At -the request of the mother, and equally at the wish of the son, -Audley consented to visit at Lady Jane's, and make acquaintance with -Nora. - -"I have such confidence in you," said Lady Lansmere, "that if you -once know the girl, your advice will be sure to have weight with -her. You will show her how wicked it would be to let Harley break -our hearts and degrade his station." - -"I have such confidence in you," said young Harley, "that if you -once know my Nora, you will no longer side with my mother. You will -recognize the nobility which Nature only can create--you will own -that Nora is worthy a rank more lofty than mine; and my mother so -believes in your wisdom, that if you plead in my cause, you will -convince even her." - -Audley listened to both with his intelligent, half-incredulous -smile; and wholly of the same advice as Lady Lansmere, and sincerely -anxious to save Harley from an indiscretion that his own notions led -him to regard as fatal, he resolved to examine this boasted pearl, -and to find out its flaws. Audley Egerton was then in the prime of -his earnest, resolute, ambitious youth. The stateliness of his -natural manners had then a suavity and polish which, even in later -and busier life, it never wholly lost; since, in spite of the -briefer words and the colder looks by which care and powers mark the -official man, the Minister had ever enjoyed that personal popularity -which the indefinable, external something, that wins and pleases, -can alone confer. But he had even then, as ever, that felicitous -reserve which Rochefoucault has called the "mystery of the -body"--that thin yet guardian vail which reveals but the strong -outlines of character, and excites so much of interest by provoking -so much of conjecture. To the man who is born with this reserve, -which is wholly distinct from shyness, the world gives credit for -qualities and talents beyond those that it perceives; and such -characters are attractive to others in proportion as these last are -gifted with the imagination which loves to divine the unknown. - -At the first interview, the impression which this man produced upon -Nora Avenel was profound and strange. She had heard of him before as -the one whom Harley most loved and looked up to; and she recognized -at once in his mien, his aspect, his words, the very tone of his -deep tranquil voice, the power to which woman, whatever her -intellect, never attains; and to which, therefore, she imputes a -nobility not always genuine--viz., the power of deliberate purpose, -and self-collected, serene ambition. The effect that Nora produced -on Egerton was not less sudden. He was startled by a beauty of face -and form that belonged to that rarest order, which we never behold -but once or twice in our lives. He was yet more amazed to discover -that the aristocracy of mind could bestow a grace that no -aristocracy of birth could surpass. He was prepared for a simple, -blushing village girl, and involuntarily he bowed low his proud -front at the first sight of that delicate bloom, and that exquisite -gentleness which is woman's surest passport to the respect of man. -Neither in the first, nor the second, nor the third interview, nor, -indeed, till after many interviews, could he summon up courage to -commence his mission, and allude to Harley. And when he did so at -last, his words faltered. But Nora's words were clear to him. He saw -that Harley was not loved; and a joy that he felt as guilty, darted -through his whole frame. From that interview Audley returned home -greatly agitated, and at war with himself. Often, in the course of -this story, has it been hinted that under all Egerton's external -coldness, and measured self-control, lay a nature capable of strong -and stubborn passions. Those passions broke forth then. He felt that -love had already entered into the heart, which the trust of his -friend should have sufficed to guard. - -"I will go there no more," said he, abruptly, to Harley. - -"But why?" - -"The girl does not love you. Cease then to think of her." - -Harley disbelieved him, and grew indignant. But Audley had every -worldly motive to assist his sense of honor. He was poor, though -with the reputation of wealth--deeply involved in debt--resolved to -rise in life--tenacious of his position in the world's esteem. -Against a host of counteracting influences, love fought -single-handed. Audley's was a strong nature; but, alas! in strong -natures, if resistance to temptation is of granite, so the passions -that they admit are of fire. - -Trite is the remark, that the destinies of our lives often date from -the impulses of unguarded moments. It was so with this man, to an -ordinary eye so cautious and so deliberate. Harley one day came to -him in great grief; he had heard that Nora was ill; he implored -Audley to go once more and ascertain. Audley went. Lady Jane Horton, -who was suffering under a disease which not long afterward proved -fatal, was too ill to receive him. He was shown into the room set -apart as Nora's. While waiting for her entrance, he turned -mechanically over the leaves of an album which Nora, suddenly -summoned away to attend Lady Jane, had left behind her on the -table. He saw the sketch of his own features; he read words -inscribed below it--words of such artless tenderness, and such -unhoping sorrow--words written by one who had been accustomed to -regard her genius as her sole confidant, under Heaven, to pour out -to it, as the solitary poet-heart is impelled to do, thoughts, -feelings, and confession of mystic sighs, which it would never -breathe to a living ear, and, save at such moments, scarcely -acknowledge to itself. Audley saw that he was beloved, and the -revelation, with a sudden light, consumed all the barriers between -himself and his own love. And at that moment Nora entered. She saw -him bending over the book. She uttered a cry--sprang forward--and -then sank down, covering her face with her hands. But Audley was at -her feet. He forgot his friend, his trust; he forgot ambition--he -forgot the world. It was his own cause that he pleaded--his own love -that burst forth from his lips. And when the two that day parted, -they were betrothed each to each. Alas for them, and alas for -Harley! - -And now this man, who had hitherto valued himself as the very type -of gentleman--whom all his young contemporaries had so regarded and -so revered--had to press the head of a confiding friend and bid -adieu to truth. He had to amuse, to delay, to mislead his -boy-rival--to say that he was already subduing Nora's hesitating -doubts--and that within a little time, she could be induced to -consent to forget Harley's rank, and his parent's pride, and become -his wife. And Harley believed in Egerton, without one suspicion on -the mirror of his loyal soul. - -Meanwhile Audley impatient of his own position--impatient, as strong -minds ever are, to hasten what they have once resolved--to terminate -a suspense that every interview with Harley tortured alike by -jealousy and shame--to put himself out of the reach of scruples, and -to say to himself, "Right or wrong, there is no looking back; the -deed is done;"--Audley, thus hurried on by the impetus of his own -power of will, pressed for speedy and secret nuptials--secret till -his fortunes, then wavering, were more assured--his career fairly -commenced. This was not his strongest motive, though it was one. He -shrank from the discovery of his wrong to his friend--desired to -delay the self-humiliation of such announcement, until, as he -persuaded himself, Harley's boyish passion was over--had yielded to -the new allurements that would naturally beset his way. Stifling his -conscience, Audley sought to convince himself that the day would -soon come when Harley could hear with indifference that Nora Avenel -was another's "The dream of an hour, at his age," murmured the elder -friend; "but at mine, the passion of a life!" He did not speak of -these latter motives for concealment to Nora. He felt that, to own -the extent of his treason to a friend, would lower him in her eyes. -He spoke therefore but slightingly of Harley--treated the boy's suit -as a thing past and gone. He dwelt only on reasons that compelled -self-sacrifice on his side or hers. She did not hesitate which to -choose. And so, where Nora loved, so submissively did she believe in -the superiority of the lover, that she would not pause to hear a -murmur from her own loftier nature, or question the propriety of -what he deemed wise and good. - -Abandoning prudence in this arch affair of life, Audley still -preserved his customary caution in minor details. And this indeed -was characteristic of him throughout all his career--heedless in -large things--wary in small. He would not trust Lady Jane Horton -with his secret, still less Lady Lansmere. He simply represented to -the former, that Nora was no longer safe from Harley's determined -pursuit under Lady Jane's roof, and that she had better elude the -boy's knowledge of her movements, and go quietly away for a while, -to lodge with some connection of her own. - -And so, with Lady Jane's acquiescence, Nora went first to the house -of a very distant kinswoman of her mother's, and afterward to one -that Egerton took as their bridal home, under the name of Bertram. -He arranged all that might render their marriage most free from the -chance of premature discovery. But it so happened, on the very -morning of their bridal, that one of the witnesses he selected (a -confidential servant of his own) was seized with apoplexy. -Considering, in haste, where to find a substitute, Egerton thought -of Levy, his own private solicitor, his own fashionable -money-lender, a man with whom he was then as intimate as a fine -gentleman is with the lawyer of his own age, who knows all his -affairs, and has helped from pure friendship, to make them as bad as -they are! Levy was thus suddenly summoned. Egerton, who was in great -haste, did not at first communicate to him the name of the intended -bride; but he said enough of the imprudence of the marriage, and -his reasons for secrecy, to bring on himself the strongest -remonstrances; for Levy had always reckoned on Egerton's making a -wealthy marriage, leaving to Egerton the wife, and hoping to -appropriate to himself the wealth, all in the natural course of -business. Egerton did not listen to him, but hurried him on toward -the place at which the ceremony was to be performed; and Levy -actually saw the bride, before he had learned her name. The usurer -masked his raging emotions, and fulfilled his part in the rites. His -smile, when he congratulated the bride, might have shot cold into -her heart; but her eyes were cast on the earth, seeing there but a -shadow from heaven, and her heart was blindly sheltering itself in -the bosom to which it was given evermore. She did not perceive the -smile of hate that barbed the words of joy. Nora never thought it -necessary later to tell Egerton that Levy had been a refused suitor. -Indeed, with the exquisite taste of love, she saw that such a -confidence, the idea of such a rival, would have wounded the pride -of her high-bred, well-born husband. - -And now, while Harley L'Estrange, frantic with the news that Nora -had left Lady Jane's roof, and purposely misled into wrong -directions, was seeking to trace her refuge in vain--now Egerton, in -an assumed name, in a remote quarter, far from the clubs in which -his word was oracular--far from the pursuits, whether of pastime or -toil, that had hitherto engrossed his active mind, gave himself up, -with wonder at himself, to the only vision of fairyland that ever -weighs down the watchful eyelids of hard Ambition. The world for a -while shut out, he missed it not. He knew not of it. He looked into -two loving eyes that haunted him ever after, through a stern and -arid existence, and said murmuringly, "Why, this, then, is real -happiness!" Often, often, in the solitude of other years, to repeat -to himself the same words, save that for _is_, he then murmured -_was_! And Nora, with her grand, full heart, all her luxuriant -wealth of fancy and of thought, child of light and of song, did she -then never discover that there was something comparatively narrow -and sterile in the nature to which she had linked her fate? Not -there, could ever be sympathy in feelings, brilliant and shifting as -the tints of the rainbow. When Audley pressed her heart to his own, -could he comprehend one finer throb of its beating? Was all the iron -of his mind worth one grain of the gold she had cast away in -Harley's love? - -Did Nora already discover this? Surely no. Genius feels no want, no -repining, while the heart is contented. Genius in her paused and -slumbered: it had been as the ministrant of solitude: it was needed -no more. If a woman loves deeply some one below her own grade in the -mental and spiritual orders, how often we see that she unconsciously -quits her own rank, comes meekly down to the level of the beloved, -is afraid lest he should deem her the superior--she who would not -even be the equal. Nora knew no more that she had genius; she only -knew that she had love. - -And so here, the journal which Leonard was reading changed its tone, -sinking into that quiet happiness which is but quiet because it is -so deep. This interlude in the life of a man like Audley Egerton -could never have been long; many circumstances conspired to abridge -it. His affairs were in great disorder; they were all under Levy's -management. Demands that had before slumbered, or been mildly urged, -grew menacing and clamorous. Harley, too, returned to London from -his futile researches, and looked out for Audley. Audley was forced -to leave his secret Eden, and re-appear in the common world; and -thenceforward it was only by stealth that he came to his bridal -home--a visitor, no more the inmate. But more loud and fierce grew -the demands of his creditors, now when Egerton had most need of all -which respectability, and position, and belief of pecuniary -independence can do to raise the man who has encumbered his arms, -and crippled his steps toward fortune. He was threatened with writs, -with prisons. Levy said "that to borrow more would be but larger -ruin"--shrugged his shoulders, and even recommended a voluntary -retreat to the King's Bench. "No place so good for frightening one's -creditors into compounding their claims; but why," added Levy, with -covert sneer, "why not go to young L'Estrange--a boy made to be -borrowed from?" - -Levy, who had known from Lady Jane of Harley's pursuit of Nora, had -learned already how to avenge himself on Egerton. Audley could not -apply to the friend he had betrayed. And as to other friends, no man -in town had a greater number. And no man in town knew better that he -should lose them all if he were once known to be in want of their -money. Mortified, harassed, tortured--shunning Harley--yet ever -sought by him--fearful of each knock at his door, Audley Egerton -escaped to the mortgaged remnant of his paternal estate, on which -there was a gloomy manor-house long uninhabited, and there applied a -mind, afterward renowned for its quick comprehension of business, to -the investigation of his affairs, with a view to save some wreck -from the flood that swelled momently around him. - -And now--to condense as much as possible a record that runs darkly -on into pain and sorrow--now Levy began to practice his vindictive -arts; and the arts gradually prevailed. On pretense of assisting -Egerton in the arrangement of his affairs--which he secretly -contrived, however, still more to complicate--he came down -frequently to Egerton Hall for a few hours, arriving by the mail, -and watching the effect which Nora's almost daily letters produced -on the bridegroom, irritated by the practical cares of life. He was -thus constantly at hand to instill into the mind of the ambitious -man a regret for the imprudence of hasty passion, or to embitter the -remorse which Audley felt for his treachery to L'Estrange. Thus ever -bringing before the mind of the harassed debtor images at war with -love, and with the poetry of life, he disattuned it (so to speak) -for the reception of Nora's letters, all musical as they were with -such thoughts as the most delicate fancy inspires to the most -earnest love. Egerton was one of those men who never confide their -affairs frankly to women. Nora, when she thus wrote, was wholly in -the dark as to the extent of his stern prosaic distress. And so--and -so--Levy always near--(type of the prose of life in its most cynic -form)--so, by degrees, all that redundant affluence of affection, -with its gushes of grief for his absence, prayers for his return, -sweet reproach if a post failed to bring back an answer to the -woman's yearning sighs--all this grew, to the sensible, positive man -of real life, like sickly romantic exaggeration. The bright arrows -shot too high into heaven to hit the mark set so near to the earth. -Ah! common fate of all superior natures! What treasure, and how -wildly wasted! - -"By-the-by," said Levy, one morning, as he was about to take leave -of Audley and return to town--"by-the-by, I shall be this evening in -the neighborhood of Mrs. Egerton." - -EGERTON.--"Say Mrs. Bertram!" - -LEVY.--"Ay; will she not be in want of some pecuniary supplies?" - -EGERTON.--"My wife!--not yet. I must first be wholly ruined before -she can want; and if I were so, do you think I should not be by her -side?" - -LEVY.--"I beg pardon, my dear fellow; your pride of gentleman is so -susceptible that it is hard for a lawyer not to wound it unawares. -Your wife, then, does not know the exact state of your affairs?" - -EGERTON.--"Of course not. Who would confide to a woman things in -which she could do nothing, except to tease one the more?" - -LEVY.--"True, and a poetess, too! I have prevented your finishing -your answer to Mrs. Bertram's last letter. Can I take it--it may -save a day's delay--that is, if you do not object to my calling on -her this evening." - -EGERTON (sitting down to his unfinished letter).--"Object! no!" - -LEVY (looking at his watch).--"Be quick, or I shall lose the coach." - -EGERTON (sealing the letter).--"There. And I should be obliged to -you if you _would_ call; and without alarming her as to my -circumstances, you can just say that you know I am much harassed -about important affairs at present, and so soothe the effects of my -very short answers--" - -LEVY.--"To those doubly-crossed, very long, letters--I will." - -"Poor Nora," said Egerton, sighing, "she will think this answer -brief and churlish enough. Explain my excuses kindly, so that they -will serve for the future. I really have no time, and no heart for -sentiment. The little I ever had is well-nigh worried out of me. -Still I love her fondly and deeply." - -LEVY.--"You must have done so. I never thought it in you to -sacrifice the world to a woman." - -EGERTON.--"Nor I either; but," added the strong man, conscious -of that power which rules the world infinitely more than -knowledge--conscious of tranquil courage--"but I have not sacrificed -the world yet. This right arm shall bear up her and myself too." - -LEVY.--"Well said! But in the mean while, for heaven's sake, don't -attempt to go to London, nor to leave this place; for, in that case, -I know you will be arrested, and then adieu to all hopes of -Parliament--of a career." - -Audley's haughty countenance darkened; as the dog, in his bravest -mood, turns dismayed from the stone plucked from the mire, so, when -Ambition rears itself to defy mankind, whisper "disgrace and a -jail," and, lo, crest-fallen, it slinks away! That evening Levy -called on Nora, and ingratiating himself into her favor by praise of -Egerton, with indirect humble apologetic allusions to his own former -presumption, he prepared the way to renewed visits; she was so -lonely, and she so loved to see one who was fresh from seeing -Audley--one who would talk to her of _him_! By degrees the friendly -respectful visitor thus stole into her confidence; and then, with -all his panegyrics on Audley's superior powers and gifts, he began -to dwell upon the young husband's worldly aspirations, and care for -his career; dwelt on them so as vaguely to alarm Nora--to imply -that, dear as she was, she was still but second to Ambition. His way -thus prepared, he next began to insinuate his respectful pity at her -equivocal position, dropped hints of gossip and slander, feared that -the marriage might be owned too late to preserve reputation. And -then what would be the feelings of the proud Egerton if his wife -were excluded from that world, whose opinion he so prized? -Insensibly thus he led her on to express (though timidly) her own -fear--her own natural desire, in her letters to Audley. When could -the marriage be proclaimed? Proclaimed! Audley felt that to proclaim -such a marriage, at such a moment, would be to fling away his last -cast for fame and fortune. And Harley, too--Harley still so uncured -of his frantic love. Levy was sure to be at hand when letters like -these arrived. - -And now Levy went further still in his determination to alienate -these two hearts. He contrived, by means of his various agents, to -circulate through Nora's neighborhood the very slanders at which he -had hinted. He contrived that she should be insulted when she went -abroad, outraged at home by the sneers of her own servant, and -tremble with shame at her own shadow upon her abandoned bridal -hearth. - -Just in the midst of this intolerable anguish, Levy reappeared. His -crowning hour was ripe. He intimated his knowledge of the -humiliations Nora had undergone, expressed his deep compassion, -offered to intercede with Egerton "to do her justice." He used -ambiguous phrases that shocked her ear and tortured her heart, and -thus provoked her on to demand him to explain; and then, throwing -her into a wild state of indefinite alarm, in which he obtained her -solemn promise not to divulge to Audley what he was about to -communicate, he said, with villainous hypocrisy of reluctant shame, -"that her marriage was not strictly legal; that the forms required -by the law had not been complied with; that Audley, unintentionally -or purposely, had left himself free to disown the rite and desert -the bride." While Nora stood stunned and speechless at a falsehood -which, with lawyer-like show, he contrived to make truth-like to her -inexperience, he hurried rapidly on, to reawake on her mind the -impression of Audley's pride, ambition, and respect for worldly -position. "These are your obstacles," said he; "but I think I may -induce him to repair the wrong, and right you at last." Righted at -last--oh infamy! - -Then Nora's anger burst forth. She believe such a stain on Audley's -honor! - -"But where was the honor when he betrayed his friend? Did you not -know that he was intrusted by Lord L'Estrange to plead for him. How -did he fulfill the trust?" - -Plead for L'Estrange! Nora had not been exactly aware of this. In -the sudden love preceding those sudden nuptials, so little touching -Harley (beyond Audley's first timid allusions to his suit, and her -calm and cold reply) had been spoken by either. - -Levy resumed. He dwelt fully on the trust and the breach of it, and -then said--"In Egerton's world, man holds it far more dishonor to -betray a man than to dupe a woman; and if Egerton could do the one, -why doubt that he would do the other? But do not look at me with -those indignant eyes. Put himself to the test; write to him -to say that the suspicions amid which you live have become -intolerable--that they infect even yourself, despite your -reason--that the secrecy of your nuptials, his prolonged absence, -his brief refusal, on unsatisfactory grounds, to proclaim your tie, -all distract you with a terrible doubt. Ask him, at least (if he -will not yet declare your marriage), to satisfy you that the rites -were legal." - -"I will go to him," cried Nora impetuously. - -"Go to him!--in his own house! What a scene, what a scandal! Could -he ever forgive you?" - -"At least, then, I will implore him to come here. I can not write -such horrible words; I can not--I can not--Go, go." - -Levy left her, and hastened to two or three of Audley's most -pressing creditors--men, in fact, who went entirely by Levy's own -advice. He bade them instantly surround Audley's country residence -with bailiffs. Before Egerton could reach Nora, he would thus be -lodged in a jail. These preparations made, Levy himself went down to -Audley, and arrived, as usual, an hour or two before the delivery of -the post. - -And Nora's letter came; and never was Audley's grave brow more dark -than when he read it. Still, with his usual decision, he resolved to -obey her wish--rang the bell, and ordered his servant to put up a -change of dress, and send for post-horses. - -Levy then took him aside, and led him to the window. - -"Look under yon trees. Do you see those men? They are bailiffs. This -is the true reason why I come to you to-day. You can not leave this -house." - -Egerton recoiled. "And this frantic, foolish letter at such a time," -he muttered, striking the open page, full of love in the midst of -terror, with his clenched hand. - -O Woman, Woman! if thy heart be deep, and its chords tender, beware -how thou lovest the man with whom all that plucks him from the hard -cares of the work-day world is a frenzy or a folly! He will break -thy heart, he will shatter its chords, he will trample out from its -delicate frame-work every sound that now makes musical the common -air, and swells into unison with the harps of angels. - -"She has before written to me," continued Audley, pacing the room -with angry, disordered strides, "asking me when our marriage can be -proclaimed, and I thought my replies would have satisfied any -reasonable woman. But now, now this is worse, immeasurably -worse--she actually doubts my honor! I, who have made such -sacrifices--actually doubts whether I, Audley Egerton, an English -gentleman, could have been base enough to--" - -"What?" interrupted Levy, "to deceive your friend L'Estrange? Did -not she know _that_?" - -"Sir," exclaimed Egerton, turning white. - -"Don't be angry--all's fair in love as in war; and L'Estrange will -live yet to thank you for saving him from such a _mésalliance_. But -you are seriously angry; pray, forgive me." - -With some difficulty, and much fawning, the usurer appeased the -storm he had raised in Audley's conscience. And he then heard, as if -with surprise, the true purport of Nora's letter. - -"It is beneath me to answer, much less to satisfy such a doubt," -said Audley. "I could have seen her, and a look of reproach would -have sufficed; but to put my hand to paper, and condescend to write, -'I am not a villain, and I will give you the proofs that I am -not'--never." - -"You are quite right; but let us see if we can not reconcile matters -between your pride and her feelings. Write simply this: 'All that -you ask me to say or to explain, I have instructed Levy, as my -solicitor, to say and explain for me; and you may believe him as you -would myself.'" - -"Well, the poor fool, she deserves to be punished; and I suppose -that answer will punish her more than a lengthier rebuke. My mind is -so distracted I can not judge of these trumpery woman-fears and -whims; there, I have written as you suggest. Give her all the proof -she needs, and tell her that in six months at farthest, come what -will, she shall bear the name of Egerton, as henceforth she must -share his fate." - -"Why say six months?" - -"Parliament must be dissolved before then. I shall either obtain a -seat, be secure from a jail, have won field for my energies, or--" - -"Or what?" - -"I shall renounce ambition altogether--ask my brother to assist me -toward whatever debts remain when all my property is fairly -sold--they can not be much. He has a living in his gift--the -incumbent is old, and, I hear, very ill. I can take orders." - -"Sink into a country parson!" - -"And learn content. I have tasted it already. She was _then_ by my -side. Explain all to her. This letter, I fear, is too unkind--But to -doubt me thus!" - -Levy hastily placed the letter in his pocket-book; and, for fear it -should be withdrawn, took his leave. - -And of that letter he made such use, that the day after he had given -it to Nora, she had left the house--the neighborhood; fled, and not -a trace! Of all the agonies in life, that which is most poignant and -harrowing--that which for the time most annihilates reason, and -leaves our whole organization one lacerated, mangled _heart_--is -the conviction that we have been deceived where we placed all the -trust of love. The moment the anchor snaps, the storm comes on--the -stars vanish behind the cloud. - -When Levy returned, filled with the infamous hope which had -stimulated his revenge--the hope that if he could succeed in -changing into scorn and indignation Nora's love for Audley, he might -succeed also in replacing that broken and degraded idol--his amaze -and dismay were great on hearing of her departure. For several days -he sought her traces in vain. He went to Lady Jane Horton's--Nora -had not been there. He trembled to go back to Egerton. Surely Nora -would have written to her husband, and, in spite of her promise, -revealed his own falsehood; but as days passed and not a clew was -found, he had no option but to repair to Egerton Hall, taking care -that the bailiffs still surrounded it. Audley had received no line -from Nora. The young husband was surprised and perplexed, -uneasy--but had no suspicion of the truth. - -At length Levy was forced to break to Audley the intelligence of -Nora's flight. He gave his own color to it. Doubtless she had gone -to seek her own relations, and take, by their advice, steps to make -her marriage publicly known. This idea changed Audley's first shock -into deep and stern resentment. His mind so little comprehended -Nora's, and was ever so disposed to what is called the common-sense -view of things, that he saw no other mode to account for her flight -and her silence. Odious to Egerton as such a proceeding would be, he -was far too proud to take any steps to guard against it. "Let her do -her worst," said he, coldly, masking emotion with his usual -self-command; "it will be but a nine-days' wonder to the world--a -fiercer rush of my creditors on their hunted prey--" - -"And a challenge from Lord L'Estrange." - -"So be it," answered Egerton, suddenly placing his hand at his -heart. - -"What is the matter? Are you ill?" - -"A strange sensation here. My father died of a complaint of the -heart, and I myself was once told to guard, through life, against -excess of emotion. I smiled at such a warning then. Let us sit down -to business." - -But when Levy had gone, and solitude reclosed round that Man of the -Iron Mask, there grew upon him more and more the sense of a mighty -loss, Nora's sweet loving face started from the shadows of the -forlorn walls. Her docile, yielding temper--her generous, -self-immolating spirit--came back to his memory, to refute the idea -that wronged her. His love, that had been suspended for awhile by -busy cares, but which, if without much refining sentiment, was still -the master-passion of his soul, flowed back into all his -thoughts--circumfused the very atmosphere with a fearful softening -charm. He escaped under cover of the night from the watch of the -bailiffs. He arrived in London. He himself sought every where he -could think of for his missing bride. Lady Jane Horton was confined -to her bed, dying fast--incapable even to receive and reply to his -letter. He secretly sent down to Lansmere to ascertain if Nora had -gone to her parents. She was not there. The Avenels believed her -still with Lady Jane Horton. - -He now grew most seriously alarmed; and, in the midst of that alarm, -Levy contrived that he should be arrested for debt; but he was not -detained in confinement many days. Before the disgrace got wind, the -writs were discharged--Levy baffled. He was free. Lord L'Estrange -had learned from Audley's servant what Audley would have concealed -from him out of all the world. And the generous boy--who, besides -the munificent allowance he received from the Earl, was heir to an -independent and considerable fortune of his own, when he should -obtain his majority--hastened to borrow the money and discharge all -the obligations of his friend. The benefit was conferred before -Audley knew of it, or could prevent. Then a new emotion, and perhaps -scarce less stinging than the loss of Nora, tortured the man who had -smiled at the warning of science; and the strange sensation at the -heart was felt again and again. - -And Harley, too, was still in search of Nora--would talk of nothing -but her--and looked so haggard and grief-worn. The bloom of the -boy's youth was gone. Could Audley then have said, "She you seek is -another's; your love is razed out of your life. And, for -consolation, learn that your friend has betrayed you?" Could Audley -say this? He did not dare. Which of the two suffered the most? - -And these two friends, of characters so different, were so -singularly attached to each other. Inseparable at school--thrown -together in the world, with a wealth of frank confidences between -them, accumulated since childhood. And now, in the midst of all his -own anxious sorrow, Harley still thought and planned for Egerton. -And self-accusing remorse, and all the sense of painful gratitude, -deepened Audley's affection for Harley into a devotion as to a -superior, while softening it into a reverential pity that yearned to -relieve, to atone;--but how--oh; how? - -A general election was now at hand, still no news of Nora. Levy kept -aloof from Audley, pursuing his own silent search. A seat for the -borough of Lansmere was pressed upon Audley not only by Harley, but -his parents, especially by the Countess, who tacitly ascribed to -Audley's wise counsels Nora's mysterious disappearance. - -Egerton at first resisted the thought of a new obligation to his -injured friend; but he burned to have it some day in his power to -repay at least his pecuniary debt: the sense of that debt humbled -him more than all else. Parliamentary success might at last obtain -for him some lucrative situation abroad, and thus enable him -gradually to remove this load from his heart and his honor. No other -chance of repayment appeared open to him. He accepted the offer, and -went down to Lansmere. His brother, lately married, was asked to -meet him; and there, also, was Miss Leslie the heiress, whom Lady -Lansmere secretly hoped her son Harley would admire, but who had -long since, no less secretly, given her heart to the unconscious -Egerton. - -Meanwhile, the miserable Nora, deceived by the arts and -representations of Levy--acting on the natural impulse of a heart so -susceptible to shame--flying from a home which she deemed -dishonored--flying from a lover whose power over her she knew to be -so great, that she dreaded lest he might reconcile her to dishonor -itself--had no thought save to hide herself forever from Audley's -eye. She would not go to her relations--to Lady Jane; that were to -give the clew, and invite the pursuit. An Italian lady of high rank -had visited at Lady Jane's--taken a great fancy to Nora--and the -lady's husband, having been obliged to precede her return to Italy, -had suggested the notion of engaging some companion--the lady had -spoken of this to Nora and to Lady Jane Horton, who had urged Nora -to accept the offer, elude Harley's pursuit, and go abroad for a -time. Nora then had refused;--for she then had seen Audley Egerton. - -To this Italian lady she now went, and the offer was renewed with -the most winning kindness, and grasped at in the passion of despair. -But the Italian had accepted invitations to English country houses -before she finally departed for the Continent. Meanwhile Nora took -refuge in a quiet lodging in a sequestered suburb, which an English -servant in the employment of the fair foreigner recommended. Thus -had she first came to the cottage in which Burley died. Shortly -afterward she left England with her new companion, unknown to -all--to Lady Jane as to her parents. - -All this time the poor girl was under a moral delirium--a confused -fever--haunted by dreams from which she sought to fly. Sound -physiologists agree that madness is rarest among persons of the -finest imagination. But those persons are, of all others, liable to -a temporary state of mind in which judgment sleeps--imagination -alone prevails with a dire and awful tyranny. A single idea gains -ascendency--expels all others--presents itself every where with an -intolerable blinding glare. Nora was at that time under the dread -one idea--to fly from shame! - - -(TO BE CONTINUED.) - - - FOOTNOTE: - - [8] Continued from the July Number. - - - - -HENRY CLAY. - -PERSONAL ANECDOTES, INCIDENTS, ETC. - - -We have just returned from the Park and City-Hall, and from -witnessing the long procession, "melancholy, slow," that accompanied -the remains of the "Great Commoner" and great statesman, HENRY CLAY, -to their temporary resting-place in the Governor's Room. It was not -the weeping flags at half-mast throughout the city; not the tolling -of the bells, the solemn booming of the minute-guns, nor the -plaintive strains of funereal music, which brought the tears to the -eyes of thousands, as the mournful cavalcade passed on. For here -were the lifeless limbs, the dimmed eye, the hushed voice, that -never should move, nor sparkle, nor resound in eloquent tones again! - -The last time we had seen Henry Clay was, standing in an open -barouche, on the very spot where his hearse now paused, in front of -the City-Hall. He was addressing then a vast concourse of his -fellow-citizens, who had assembled to do him honor; and never shall -we forget the exquisite grace of his gestures, the melodious tones -of his matchless voice, and the _interior look_ of his eyes--as if -he were rather spoken _from_, than _speaking_. It was an occasion -not to be forgotten. - -It is proposed, in the present article, to afford the reader some -opportunity of judging of the character and manner of Mr. Clay, both -as an orator and a man, and of his general habits, from a few -characteristic anecdotes and incidents, which have been well -authenticated heretofore, or are now for the first time communicated -to the writer. Biography, in Mr. Clay's case, has already occupied -much of the space of all our public journals; we shall, therefore, -omit particulars which are now more or less familiar to the general -reader. - -It was the remark of a distinguished Senator, that Mr. Clay's -eloquence was absolutely intangible to delineation; that the most -labored and thrilling description could not embrace it; and that, to -be understood, it must be _seen_ and _felt_. During his long public -life he enchanted millions, and no one could tell _how_ he did it. -He was _an orator by nature_. His eagle eye burned with true -patriotic ardor, or dashed indignation and defiance upon his foes, -or was suffused with tears of commiseration or of pity; and it was -because _he_ felt, that he made _others_ feel. "The clear -conception, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless -spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing -every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his -object"--_this_ was the eloquence of Henry Clay; or, rather, to -pursue the definition, "it was something greater and higher than -eloquence; it was _action_--noble, sublime, GOD-like." - -While the coffin containing all that remained of the great Orator of -Nature was being carried up the steps of the City-Hall, a by-stander -remarked, in hearing of the writer: - -Well, we never shall look upon _his_ like again. What an orator he -was! I heard him speak but once, yet that once I shall always -remember. It was a good many years ago, now. It was in the immense -car-house, or dépôt, at Syracuse. The crowd was immense; and every -eye was turned toward the platform from which he was to speak, as if -the whole crowd were but one expectant face. - -Presently he arose--tall, erect as a statue; looked familiarly -around upon the audience, as if he were in an assembly of personal -friends (as in truth he was), and began. He commenced amidst the -most breathless silence; and as he warmed up with his subject, there -was not a look of his eye, not a movement of his long, graceful -right arm, not a swaying of his body, that was not full of grace -and effect. Such a voice I never heard. It was wonderful![9] - -Once he took out his snuff-box, and, after taking a pinch of snuff, -and returning the box to his pocket, he illustrated a point which he -was making by an anecdote: - -"While I was abroad," said he, "laboring to arrange the terms of the -Treaty of Ghent, there appeared a report of the negotiations, or -letters relative thereto; and several quotations from my remarks or -letters, touching certain stipulations in the treaty, reached -Kentucky, and were read by my constituents. - -"Among them, was an odd old fellow, who went by the nickname of -'_Old Sandusky_,' and he was reading one of these letters, one -evening, at a near resort, to a small collection of the neighbors. -As he read on, he came across the sentence, 'This must be deemed a -_sine qua non_." - -"'What's a _sine qua non_?' said a half-dozen by-standers. - -"'Old Sandusky' was a little bothered at first, but his good sense -and natural shrewdness was fully equal to a 'mastery of the Latin.' - -"'_Sine--qua--non?_' said 'Old Sandusky,' repeating the question -very slowly; 'why, _Sine Qua Non_ is three islands in Passamaquoddy -Bay, and Harry Clay is the last man to give them up! 'No _Sine Qua -Non_, no treaty,' he says; and he'll stick to it!'" - -You should have seen the laughing eye, the change in the speaker's -voice and manner, said the narrator, to understand the electric -effect the story had upon the audience. - -Previous to Mr. Clay's entrance upon public life in the service of -his country, and while he was yet young in the practice of the law, -in Kentucky, the following striking incident is related of him: - -Two Germans, father and son, were indicted for murder, and were -tried for the crime. Mr. Clay was employed to defend them. The act -of killing was proved by evidence so clear and strong, that it was -considered not only a case of murder, but an exceedingly aggravated -one. The trial lasted five days, at the close of which he addressed -the jury in the most impassioned and eloquent manner; and they were -so moved by his pathetic appeals, that they rendered a verdict of -manslaughter only. After another hard day's struggle, he succeeded -in obtaining an arrest of judgment, by which his clients, in whose -case he thought there was an absence of all "malice prepense," were -set at liberty. - -They expressed their gratitude in the warmest terms to their -deliverer, in which they were joined by an old and ill-favored -female, the wife of one and the mother of the other, who adopted a -different mode, however, of tendering _her_ thanks, which was by -throwing her arms round Mr. Clay's neck, and repeatedly kissing him, -in the presence of a crowded court-room! - -Mr. Clay respected her feelings too much to repulse her; but he was -often afterward heard to say, that it was "the longest and strongest -embrace he ever encountered in his professional practice!" - -In civil suits, at this period, Mr. Clay gained almost equal -celebrity, and especially in the settlement of land claims, at that -time an important element in Western litigation. It is related of -him, at this stage of his career, that being engaged in a case which -involved immense interests, he associated with him a prominent -lawyer to whom he intrusted its management, as urgent business -demanded his absence from court. Two days were occupied in -discussing the legal points that were to govern the instructions of -the court to the jury, on every one of which his colleague was -frustrated. Mr. Clay returned, however, before a decision was -rendered, and without acquainting himself with the nature of the -testimony, or ascertaining the manner in which the discussion had -been conducted, after conferring a few moments with his associate, -he prepared and presented in a few words the form in which he wished -the instructions to be given, accompanying it with his reasons, -which were so convincing that the suit was terminated in his favor -in less than one hour after he re-entered the court-room. - -Thus early, and in a career merely professional, did Henry Clay -commence his sway over the minds of deliberative men. - -The subjoined incident, connected with Mr. Clay's style of -"stump-speaking" is related in "Mallory's Life" of our illustrious -subject. It illustrates his tact and ingenuity in seizing and -turning to good account trivial circumstances: - -Mr. Clay had been speaking for some time, when a company of -riflemen, who had been performing military exercise, attracted by -his attitude, concluded to "go and hear what the fellow had to say," -as they termed it, and accordingly drew near. They listened with -respectful attention, and evidently with deep interest, until he -closed, when one of their number, a man of about fifty years of age, -who had seen much back-wood's service, stood leaning on his rifle, -regarding the young speaker with a fixed and sagacious look. - -He was apparently the Nimrod of the company, for he exhibited every -characteristic of a "mighty hunter." He had buckskin breeches, and -hunting-shirt, coon-skin cap, black bushy beard, and a visage of the -color and texture of his bullet-pouch. At his belt hung the knife -and hatchet, and the huge, indispensable powder-horn across a breast -bare and brown as the hills he traversed in his forays, yet it -covered a brave and noble heart. - -He beckoned with his hand to Mr. Clay to approach him. - -Mr. Clay immediately complied. - -"Young man," said he, "you want to go to the Legislature, I see." - -"Why, yes," replied Mr. Clay; "yes, I _should_ like to go, since my -friends have put me up as a candidate before the people. I don't -wish to be defeated, of course; few people do." - -"Are you a good shot, young man?" asked the hunter. - -"I consider myself as good as any in the county." - -"Then you shall go: but you must give us a specimen of your skill; -we must see you shoot." - -"I never shoot any rifle but my own, and that is at home," said the -young orator. - -"No matter," quickly responded the hunter, "here's _Old Bess_; she -never failed yet in the hands of a marksman. She has put a bullet -through many a squirrel's head at a hundred yards, and day-light -through many a red-skin _twice_ that distance. If you can shoot -_any_ gun, young man, you can shoot 'Old Bess!'" - -"Very well, then," replied Mr. Clay, "put up your mark! put up your -mark!" - -The target was placed at about the distance of eighty yards, when, -with all the coolness and steadiness of an old experienced marksman, -he drew "Old Bess" to his shoulder, and fired. The bullet pierced -the target near the centre. - -"Oh, that's a chance-shot! a chance-shot!" exclaimed several of his -political opponents; "he might shoot all day, and not hit the mark -again. Let him try it over!--let him try it over!" - -"No, no," retorted Mr. Clay, "_beat that_, and _then_ I will!" - -As no one seemed disposed to make the attempt, it was considered -that he had given satisfactory proof of being, as he said, "the best -shot in the county;" and this unimportant incident gained him the -vote of every hunter and marksman in the assembly, which was -composed principally of that class of persons, as well as the -support of the same throughout the county. Mr. Clay was frequently -heard to say: "I had never before fired a rifle, and have not -since!" - -It was in turning little things like these to account, that Mr. -Clay, in the earlier period of his career, was so remarkable. Two -other instances in this kind, although not new, may be appropriately -mentioned in this connection. - -In 1805 an attempt was made to obtain the removal of the capital -from Frankfort, Kentucky. Mr. Clay, in a speech delivered at the -time, reverted to the physical appearance of the place, as -furnishing an argument in favor of the proposed removal. Frankfort -is walled in on all sides by towering, rocky precipices, and in its -general conformation, is not unlike a great pit. "It presents," said -Mr. Clay, in his remarks upon the subject, "the model of an inverted -hat. Frankfort is the body of the hat, and the lands adjacent are -the brim. To change the figure, it is Nature's great penitentiary; -and if the members would know the bodily condition of the -prisoners, let them look at those poor creatures in the gallery." - -As he said this, he directed the attention of the members of the -Legislature to some half-dozen emaciated, spectre-like specimens of -humanity, who happened to be moping about there, looking as if they -had just stolen a march from the grave-yard. On observing the eyes -of the House thus turned toward them, and aware of their ill-favored -aspect, they screened themselves with such ridiculous precipitancy -behind the pillars and railing, as to cause the most violent -laughter. This well-directed hit was successful; and the House gave -their votes in favor of the measure. - -The second instance is doubtless more familiar to the reader; but -having "spoken of guns," it may not be amiss to quote it here: - -During an excited political canvass, Mr. Clay met an old hunter, who -had previously been his devoted friend, but who now opposed him, on -the ground of "the Compensation bill." - -"Have you a good rifle, my friend?" asked Mr. Clay. - -"Yes," said the hunter. - -"Does it ever flash in the pan?" continued Mr. Clay. - -"It never did but once in the world," said the hunter, exultingly. - -"Well, what did you do with it? You didn't throw it away, did you?" - -"No; I picked the flint, tried it again, and brought down the game." - -"Have _I_ ever 'flashed,'" continued Mr. Clay, "except on the -'Compensation bill?'" - -"No, I can't say that you ever did." - -"Well, will you throw _me_ away?" said Mr. Clay. - -"No, no!" responded the huntsman, touched on the right point; "no; -_I'll pick the flint, and try you again!_" - -And ever afterward he was the unwavering friend of Mr. Clay. - -From the same authority we derive another election anecdote, which -Mr. Clay was wont to mention to his friends. In a political canvass -in Kentucky, Mr. Clay, and Mr. Pope a one-armed man, were candidates -for the same office. An Irish barber, residing at Lexington, had -always given Mr. Clay his vote, and on all occasions, when he was a -candidate for office, electioneered warmly for him. He was "Irish -all over," and was frequently in "scrapes," from which Mr. Clay -generally succeeded in rescuing him. Somebody, just before the -election took place, "came the evil eye" over him; for when asked -who he was going to vote for, he replied, "I mane to vote for the -man who can't put more nor _one hand_ into the threasury!" - -A few days after the election, the barber met Mr. Clay in Lexington, -and approaching him, began to cry, saying that he had wronged him, -and repented his ingratitude. "My wife," said he, "got round me, -blubbering, and tould me that I was _too bad_, to desert, like a -base spalpeen, me ould frind. 'Niver's the time,' says she 'when -you got in jail or in any bad fix _niver's_ the time he didn't come -and help you out. Och! bad luck to ye for not giving him your -vote!'" Mr. Clay never failed to gain his vote afterward. - -An anecdote is related of Mr. Clay, aptly illustrating his ability -to encounter opposition, in whatever manner presented. A Senator -from Connecticut had endeavored to inspire the younger members of -the Senate with a respect for him, nearly allied to awe; and to this -end was accustomed to use toward them harsh and haughty language, -but especially to make an ostentatious display of his attainments, -and his supposed superior knowledge of the subject under discussion. -Mr. Clay could ill brook his insolent looks and language, and -haughty, overbearing manner, and took occasion in his speech to hit -them off, which he did by quoting Peter Pindar's Magpie, - - "Thus have I seen a magpie in the street, - A chattering bird we often meet, - A bird for curiosity well known, - With head awry, - And cunning eye, - Peep knowingly into a marrow-bone!" - -"It would be difficult," says the biographer who relates this -circumstance, "to say which was the greater, the merriment which -this sally caused, or the chagrin of the satirized Senator." - -A striking instance of the simplicity as well as humanity of Mr. -Clay's character is given in the following authentic anecdote of -him, while a member of the House of Representatives: - -"Almost every body in Washington City will remember an old he-goat, -which formerly inhabited a livery-stable on Pennsylvania Avenue. -This animal was the most independent citizen of the metropolis. He -belonged to no party, although he frequently gave pedestrians -'striking' proofs of his adhesion to the 'leveling' principle; for, -whenever a person stopped any where in the vicinity, 'Billy' was -sure to 'make at him,' horns and all. The boys took delight in -irritating him, and frequently so annoyed him that he would 'butt' -against lamp-posts and trees, to their great amusement. - -"One day, Henry Clay was passing along the avenue, and seeing the -boys intent on worrying Billy into a fever, stopped, and with -characteristic humanity expostulated with them upon their cruelty. -The boys listened in silent awe to the eloquent appeal of the -'Luminary of the West,' but it was all Cherokee to Billy, who--the -ungrateful scamp!--arose majestically on his hind legs, and made a -desperate plunge at his friend and advocate. Mr. Clay, however, -proved too much for his horned adversary. He seized both horns of -the dilemma, and then came the 'tug of war.' The struggle was long -and doubtful. - -"'Ha!' exclaimed the statesman, 'I've got you fast, you old rascal! -I'll teach you better manners than to attack your friends! But, -boys, he continued, 'what shall I do _now_?' - -"'Why, trip up his feet, Mr. Clay.' Mr. Clay did as he was told, and -after many severe efforts brought Billy down on his side. Here he -looked at the boys imploringly, seeming to say, 'I never was in such -a fix as _this_ before!' - -"The combatants were now nearly exhausted; but the goat had the -advantage, for he was gaining breath all the while the statesman was -losing it. - -"'Boys!' exclaimed Mr. Clay, puffing and blowing, 'this is rather an -awkward business. What am I to do _next_?" - -"'Why, don't you know?' said a little fellow, making his own -preparations to run, as he spoke: 'all you've got to do is to let -go, and run like blazes!' The hint was taken at once, much to the -amusement of the boys who had been 'lectured.'" - -The collisions between Mr. Clay and Randolph in Congress and out of -it, are well known to the public. The following circumstance, -however, has seldom been quoted. When the Missouri Compromise -question was before Congress, and the fury of the contending parties -had broken down almost every barrier of order and decency, Mr. -Randolph, much excited, approaching Mr. Clay, said: - -"Mr. Speaker, I wish you would leave the House. I will follow you to -Kentucky, or any where else in the world." - -Mr. Clay regarded him with one of his most searching looks for an -instant; and then replied, in an under-tone: - -"Mr. Randolph, your proposition is an exceedingly serious one, and -demands most serious consideration. Be kind enough to call at my -room to-morrow morning, and we will deliberate over it together." - -Mr. Randolph called punctually at the moment; they talked long upon -the much-agitated subject, without coming to any agreement, and Mr. -Randolph arose to leave. - -"Mr. Randolph," said Mr. Clay, as the former was about stepping from -the house, "with your permission, I will embrace the present -occasion to observe, that your language and deportment on the floor -of the House, it has occurred to me, were rather indecorous and -ungentlemanly, on several occasions, and very annoying, indeed, to -me; for, being in the chair, I had no opportunity of replying." - -While admitting that this might, perhaps, be so, Mr. Randolph -excused it, on the ground of Mr. Clay's inattention to his remarks, -and asking for a pinch of snuff while he was addressing him, &c, &c. -Mr. Clay, in reply, said: - -"Oh, you are certainly mistaken, Mr. Randolph, if you think I do not -listen to you. I frequently turn away my head, it is true, and ask -for a pinch of snuff; still, I hear every thing you say, although I -may _seem_ to hear nothing; and, retentive as I know your memory to -be, I will wager that I can repeat as many of your speeches as you -yourself can!" - -"Well," answered Randolph, "I don't know but I _am_ mistaken; and -suppose we drop the matter, shake hands, and become good friends -again?" - -"Agreed!" said Mr. Clay, extending his hand, which was cordially -grasped by Mr. Randolph. - -During the same session, and some time before this interview, Mr. -Randolph accosted Mr. Clay with a look and manner much agitated, and -exhibited to him a letter, couched in very abusive terms, -threatening to cowhide him, &c., and asked Mr. Clay's advice as to -the course he should pursue in relation to it. - -"What caused the writer to send you such an insulting epistle, Mr. -Randolph?" asked Mr. Clay. - -"Why, I suppose," said Randolph, "it was in consequence of what I -said to him the other day." - -"What _did_ you say?" - -"Why, sir, I was standing in the vestibule of the house, when the -writer came up and introduced to me a gentleman who accompanied him; -and I asked him what right he had to introduce that man to me, and -told him that the man had just as good a right to introduce _him_ to -me; whereat he was very indignant, said I had treated him -scandalously, and turning on his heel, went away. I think that must -have made him write the letter." - -"Don't you think he was _a little out of his head_ to talk in that -way?" asked Mr. Clay. - -"Why, I've been thinking about that," said Randolph: "I _have_ some -doubts respecting his sanity." - -"Well, that being the case, would it not be the wisest course -not to bring the matter before the House? I will direct the -sergeant-at-arms to keep a sharp look-out for the man, and to cause -him to be arrested should he attempt any thing improper." - -Mr. Randolph acquiesced in this opinion, and nothing more was ever -heard of the subject. - -Another incident, touching Mr. Clay and Mr. Randolph, will be read -with interest: - -At one time Mr. Randolph, in a strain of most scorching irony, had -indulged in some personal taunts toward Mr. Clay, commiserating his -ignorance and limited education, to whom Mr. Clay thus replied: - -"Sir, the gentleman from Virginia was pleased to say, that in one -point at least he coincided with me--in an humble estimate of my -philological acquirements. Sir, I know my deficiencies. I was born -to no proud patrimonial estate from my father. I inherited only -infancy, ignorance, and indigence. I feel my defects: but, so far as -my situation in early life is concerned, I may without presumption -say, they are more my misfortune than my fault. But, however I may -deplore my inability to furnish to the gentleman a better specimen -of powers of verbal criticism, I will venture to say my regret is -not greater than the disappointment of this committee, as to the -strength of his argument." - -The particulars of the duel between Mr. Randolph and Mr. Clay may be -unknown to some of our readers. The eccentric descendant of -Pocahontas appeared on the ground in a huge morning gown. This -garment constituted such a vast circumference that the "locality of -the swarthy Senator," was at least a matter of very vague -conjecture. The parties exchanged shots, and the ball of Mr. Clay -hit the centre of the visible object, but Mr. Randolph was not -there! The latter had fired in the air, and immediately after the -exchange of shots he walked up to Mr. Clay, parted the folds of his -gown, pointed to the hole where the bullet of the former had pierced -his coat, and, in the shrillest tones of his piercing voice, -exclaimed, "Mr. Clay, you owe me a coat--you owe me a coat!" to -which Mr. Clay replied, in a voice of slow and solemn emphasis, at -the same time pointing directly at Mr. Randolph's heart, "Mr. -Randolph, I thank God that I am no _deeper_ in your debt!" - -The annexed rejoinder aptly illustrates Mr. Clay's readiness at -repartee: - -At the time of the passage of the tariff-bill, as the house was -about adjourning, a friend of the bill observed to Mr. Clay, "We -have done pretty well to-day." "Very well, indeed," rejoined Mr. -Clay--"_very_ well: we made a good stand, considering we lost both -our _Feet_;" alluding to Mr. Foote of New York, and Mr. Foot of -Connecticut, both having opposed the bill, although it was -confidently expected, a short time previous, that both would support -it. - -After the nomination of General Taylor as a candidate for the -Presidency, made by the Whig Convention at Philadelphia, in June, -1848, many of the friends of Mr. Clay were greatly dissatisfied, not -to say exasperated, by what they deemed an abandonment of principle, -and unfairness in the proceedings of that body: meetings were held -in this city, at which delegates from the northern and western parts -of this State and from the State of New Jersey attended, and various -arrangements, preliminary to placing Mr. Clay again in nomination -for that office, were made, and perfected. These steps were not -concealed, and many of the friends of General Taylor were so -uncharitable as to avow their belief that this dissatisfaction was -fostered and encouraged by Mr. Clay himself. The following extract -from a letter written to a friend in this city,[10] one who had from -the beginning opposed the movement, will exhibit Mr. Clay's true -sentiments on that subject: - - "ASHLAND, _16th October, 1848_. - - "MY DEAR SIR--I duly received your obliging letter of the - 5th instant, and I have perused it with the greatest - satisfaction. - - "The vivid picture which you have drawn of the enthusiastic - attachment, the unbounded confidence, and the entire - devotion of my warm-hearted friends in the city of New York, - has filled me with the liveliest emotions of gratitude. - - "There was but one more proof wanting of their goodness, to - complete and perpetuate my great obligations to them, and - that they have kindly given, in deference to my anxious - wishes; it was, not to insist upon the use of my name as a - candidate for the Presidency, after the promulgation of my - desire to the contrary." - -In another letter, to the same party, written a few weeks earlier, -occurs the following touching passage, indicating his sense of the -oppressive loneliness with which he was then surrounded. Referring -to the recent departure of his son James on his mission to Portugal, -accompanied by his family, he says: - - "If they had, as I hope, a prosperous voyage, they will have - arrived at Liverpool about the same day that I reached home. - My separation from them, probably for a length of time, the - uncertainty of life rendering it not unlikely that I may - never see them again, and the deep and affectionate interest - I take in their welfare and happiness, has been extremely - painful. - - "I find myself now, toward the close of my life, in one - respect, in a condition similar to that with which I began - it. Mrs. Clay and I commenced it alone: and after having had - eleven children, of whom four only remain, our youngest son - is the sole white person residing with us." - -We are indebted to the same obliging gentleman from whom we derive -the foregoing, for the following graphic description of a visit paid -to Mr. Clay in his sick chamber at Washington: - -"On Monday, the first of March last, at about one o'clock, at the -National Hotel, Washington, having sent in my name, Mr. Clay kindly -admitted me to his room. I found it darkened by heavy closed -curtains, and the sufferer seated in an easy chair at the remote -end, near a moderate coal-fire. I approached him rapidly, and, -taking his extended soft hand and attenuated fingers, said, 'My dear -sir, I am most honored and gratified by this privilege of being -again permitted to renew to you, personally, the expression of my -unabated attachment and reverence.' - -"'But, my dear sir,' he playfully answered, 'you have a very cold -hand to convey these sentiments to an invalid such as I am. Come, -draw up a chair, and sit near me; I am compelled to use my voice but -little, and very carefully.' - -"Doing as he desired, I expressed my deep regret that he was still -confined to a sick room, and added, that I hoped the return of -spring, and the early recurrence of warmer weather would mitigate -his more urgent symptoms, and enable him again to visit the Senate -Chamber. - -"'Sir,' said he, 'these are the kind wishes of a friend, but that -hope does not commend itself to my judgment. You may remember that -last year I visited the Havanna, in the expectation that its -remarkably genial and mild climate would benefit me--but I found no -relief; thence to New Orleans, a favorite resort of mine, with no -better result. I even became impatient for the return of autumn, -thinking that possibly its clear bracing atmosphere at Ashland might -lessen my distressing cough; but sir, the Havanna, New Orleans, and -Ashland have all failed to bring me any perceptible benefit.' - -"'May I ask, my dear sir, what part of the twenty-four hours are you -most comfortable?' - -"'Fortunately, sir, _very_ fortunately--I should add, -_mercifully_--during the night. Then, I am singularly placid and -composed: I am very wakeful, and during the earlier part of it my -thoughts take a wide range, but I lie most tranquilly, without any -sensation of weariness, or nervous excitement, and toward day fall -into a quiet and undisturbed sleep; this continues to a late hour in -the morning, when I rise and breakfast about ten o'clock. -Subsequently my cough for an hour or two, is very exhausting. After -one o'clock, and during the evening, I am tolerably free of it, and -during this period, I see a few of my close personal friends. And -thus passes the twenty-four hours.' - -"'I was grieved to learn, through the public prints, that Mrs. Clay -has been ill; may I hope that she is better?' - -"'She has been sick; indeed, at one time, I was much alarmed at her -situation; but I thank GOD,' (_with deep emotion_,) 'she is quite -recovered.' - -"'I almost expected the gratification of meeting your son James and -his wife here.' - -"'No, sir; you may remember that I once told you that he had made a -very fortunate investment in the suburbs of St. Louis. This property -has become valuable, and requires his attention and management: he -has removed thither with his family. It's a long way off, and I -would not have them make a winter journey here; beside, I have every -comfort and attention that a sick man can require. My apartments, as -you perceive, are far removed from the noise and bustle of the -house; and I am surrounded by warm and anxious friends, ever seeking -to anticipate my wishes.' - -"During this brief conversation--in which we were quite alone--Mr. -Clay had several paroxysms of coughing. Once he rose and walked -across the room to a spittoon. The most careful use of his voice -seemed greatly and constantly to irritate his lungs. I could not -prolong the interview, though thoroughly impressed with the -belief--since mournfully verified--that it would be the last. - -"I rose, took my leave, invoking God's blessing on him; and, as in -the presence of Royalty, bowed myself out of the room backward. - -"On rising from his seat, as above remarked, he stood as erect and -commanding as ever; and while sitting in close proximity to him, his -burning eye fixed intently upon me, it seemed as if rays of light -were emitted from each. This phenomenon is not unusual in -consumptive patients, the extraordinary brilliancy of the eye being -often remarked; but in Mr. Clay's case it was so intense as to make -me almost nervous, partaking as it did of the supernatural. - -"I have thus given you the arrangement, and very nearly the precise -words,[11] of this my last interview with one of the greatest men of -the age. It was altogether a scene to be remembered--a sick room, -with the thoughts of a nation daily directed to it! It is full of -pathos, and approaches the sublime." - -The day previous to the call and conversation above described, the -Editor of the _Knickerbocker Magazine_ saw Mr. Clay in the street at -Washington, and thus mentions the fact in the "Gossip" of his April -Number: "Passing the National Hotel at two o'clock, on this bright -and cloudless warm Sunday, we saw a tall figure, clad in a blue -cloak, attended only by a lady and child, enter a carriage before -the door. Once seen, it was a face never to be forgotten. It was -Henry Clay. That eagle-eye was not dimmed, although the great -statesman's force was abated. We raised our hat, and bowed our -reverence and admiration. Our salutation was gracefully returned, -and the carriage was driven away. - -"As we walked on, to keep an engagement to dine, we thought of the -late words of that eminent patriot: 'If the days of my usefulness, -as I have too much reason to fear, be indeed passed, I desire not to -linger an impotent spectator of the oft-scanned field of life. I -have never looked upon old age, deprived of the faculty of -enjoyment, of intellectual perceptions and energies, with any -sympathy; and for such I think the day of fate can not arrive too -soon.' One can hardly choose but drop a tear over such a remark from -such a man." - -Thus "broken with the storms of state," and scathed with many a -fiery conflict, Henry Clay gradually descended toward the tomb. -"During this period," says one of his Kentucky colleagues, "he -conversed much and cheerfully with his friends, and took great -interest in public affairs. While he did not expect a restoration to -health, he cherished the hope that the mild season of spring would -bring him strength enough to return to Ashland, that he might die in -the bosom of his family. But, alas! spring, that brings life to all -Nature, brought no life nor hope to him. After the month of March, -his vital powers rapidly wasted, and for weeks he lay patiently -awaiting the stroke of death. The approach of the destroyer had no -terror for him. No clouds overhung his future. He met his end with -composure, and his pathway to the grave was lightened by the -immortal hopes which spring from the Christian faith. Not long -before his death, having just returned from Kentucky, I bore to him -a token of affection from his excellent wife. Never can I forget his -appearance, his manner, or his words. After speaking of his family -and his country, he changed the conversation to his own fortune, -and, looking on me with his fine eyes undimmed, and his voice full -of its original compass and melody, he said: 'I am not afraid to -die, sir; I have hope, faith, and some confidence: I do not think -any man can be entirely certain in regard to his future state, but I -have an abiding trust in the merits and mediation of our Saviour.'" - -"On the evening previous to his departure," writes his excellent -pastor and faithful attendant, Rev. Dr. Butler, "sitting an hour in -silence by his side, I could not but realize--when I heard him in -the slight wanderings of his mind, to other days and other scenes, -murmuring the words, 'My mother, mother, mother!' and saying, 'My -dear wife!' as if she were present. I could not but realize then, -and rejoiced to think, how near was the blessed re-union of his -weary heart with the loved dead, and the living who must soon -follow him to his rest, whose spirits even then seemed to visit and -to cheer his memory and his hope." - -Mr. Clay's countenance immediately after death looked like an -antique cast. His features seemed to be perfectly classical; and the -repose of all the muscles gave the lifeless body a quiet majesty, -seldom reached by living human being. His last request was that his -body might be buried, not in Washington, but in his own family vault -in his beloved Kentucky, by the side of his relations and friends. -May he rest in peace in his honored grave! - - - FOOTNOTES: - - [9] A gentleman, after hearing one of Mr. Clay's magnificent - performances in the Senate, thus describes him: "Every - muscle of the orator's face was at work. His whole body - seemed agitated, as if each part was instinct with a - separate life; and his small white hand, with its blue veins - apparently distended almost to bursting, moved gracefully, - but with all the energy of rapid and vehement gesture. The - appearance of the speaker seemed that of a pure intellect, - wrought up to its mightiest energies, and brightly shining - through the thin and transparent vail of flesh that invested - it." It is much to be lamented that no painting exists of - the departed statesman that really does him justice. What a - treasure to the country, and to the friends of the "Great - Commoner," would be a portrait, at this time, from the - faithful and glowing pencil of our pre-eminent artist, - Elliott! But it is now "too late". - - [10] NICHOLAS DEAN, Esq., President of the Croton Aqueduct - Board, a life-long friend of Mr. Clay. - - [11] They were reduced to writing immediately afterward. - - - - -A DUEL IN 1830. - - -I had just arrived at Marseilles with the diligence, in which three -young men, apparently merchants or commercial travelers, were the -companions of my journey. They came from Paris, and were -enthusiastic about the events which had lately happened there, and -in which they boasted of having taken part. I was, for my part, -quiet and reserved; for I thought it much better, at a time of such -political excitement in the south of France, where party passions -always rise so high, to do nothing that would attract attention; and -my three fellow-travelers no doubt looked on me as a plain, -common-place seaman, who had been to the luxurious metropolis for -his pleasure or on business. My presence, it seemed, did not -incommode them, for they talked on as if I had not been there. Two -of them were gay, merry, but rather coarse boon-companions; the -third, an elegant youth, blooming and tall, with luxuriant black -curling hair, and dark soft eyes. In the hotel where we dined, and -where I sat a little distance off, smoking my cigar, the -conversation turned on various love-adventures, and the young man, -whom they called Alfred, showed his comrades a packet of delicately -perfumed letters, and a superb lock of beautiful fair hair. - -He told them that in the days of July he had been slightly wounded, -and that his only fear, while he lay on the ground, was, that if he -died, some mischance might prevent Clotilde from weeping over his -grave. "But now all is well," he continued. "I am going to fetch a -nice little sum from my uncle at Marseilles, who is just at this -moment in good-humor, on account of the discomfiture of the Jesuits -and the Bourbons. In my character of one of the heroes of July, he -will forgive me all my present and past follies: I shall pass an -examination at Paris, and then settle down in quiet, and live -happily with my Clotilde." Thus they talked together; and by-and-by -we parted in the court-yard of the coach-office. - -Close by was a brilliantly-illumined coffee-house. I entered, and -seated myself at a little table, in a distant corner of the room. -Two persons only were still in the saloon, in an opposite corner, -and before them stood two glasses of brandy. One was an elderly, -stately, and portly gentleman, with dark-red face, and dressed in a -quiet colored suit; it was easy to perceive that he was a clergyman. -But the appearance of the other was very striking. He could not be -far from sixty years of age, was tall and thin, and his gray, indeed -almost white hair, which, however, rose from his head in luxurious -fullness, gave to his pale countenance a peculiar expression that -made one feel uncomfortable. The brawny neck was almost bare; a -simple, carelessly-knotted black kerchief alone encircled it; thick, -silver-gray whiskers met together at his chin; a blue frock-coat, -pantaloons of the same color, silk stockings, shoes with thick -soles, and a dazzlingly-white waistcoat and linen, completed his -equipment. A thick stick leant in one corner, and his broad-brimmed -hat hung against the wall. There was a certain convulsive twitching -of the thin lips of this person, which was very remarkable; and -there seemed, when he looked fixedly, to be a smouldering fire in -his large, glassy, grayish-blue eyes. He was, it was evident, a -seaman like myself--a strong oak that fate had shaped into a mast, -over which many a storm had blustered, but which had been too tough -to be shivered, and still defied the tempest and the lightning. -There lay a gloomy resignation as well as a wild fanaticism in those -features. The large bony hand, with its immense fingers, was spread -out or clenched, according to the turn which the conversation with -the clergyman took. Suddenly he stepped up to me. I was reading a -royalist newspaper. He lighted his cigar. - -"You are right, sir; you are quite right not to read those infamous -Jacobin journals." I looked up, and gave no answer. He continued: "A -sailor?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"And have seen service?" - -"Yes." - -"You are still in active service?" - -"No." And then, to my great satisfaction, for my patience was -well-nigh exhausted, the examination was brought to a conclusion. - -Just then, an evil destiny led my three young fellow-travelers into -the room. They soon seated themselves at a table, and drank some -glasses of champagne to Clotilde's health. All went on well; but -when they began to sing the _Marseillaise_ and the _Parisienne_, the -face of the gray man began to twitch, and it was evident a storm was -brewing. Calling to the waiter, he said with a loud voice, "Tell -those blackguards yonder not to annoy me with their low songs!" - -The young men sprang up in a fury, and asked if it was to them he -alluded. - -"Whom else should I mean," said the gray man, with a contemptuous -sneer. - -"But we may drink and sing if we like, and to whom we like," said -the young man. "_Vive la République et vive Clotilde!_" - -"One as blackguardly as the other!" cried the gray-beard tauntingly; -and a wine-glass, that flew at his head from the hand of the -dark-haired youth, was the immediate rejoinder. Slowly wiping his -forehead, which bled and dripped with the spilled wine, the old man -said quite quietly "To-morrow, at the Cap Verd!" and seated himself -again with the most perfect composure. - -The young man expressed his determination to take the matter on -himself; that he alone would settle the quarrel, and promised to -appear on the morrow at the appointed time. They then all departed -noisily. The old man rose quietly, and turning to me, said: "Sir, -you have been witness to the insult; be witness also to the -satisfaction. Here is my address: I shall expect you at five -o'clock. Good-night, Monsieur l'Abbé! To-morrow, there will be one -Jacobin less, and one lost soul the more. Good-night!" and taking -his hat and stick, he departed. His companion the abbé followed soon -after. - -I now learned the history of this singular man. He was descended -from a good family of Marseilles. Destined for the navy while still -young, he was sent on board ship before the Revolution, and while -yet of tender years. Later, he was taken prisoner; and after many -strange adventures, returned in 1793 to France: was about to marry, -but having been mixed up with the disturbances at Toulon, managed to -escape by a miracle to England; and learned before long that his -father, mother, one brother, a sister of sixteen years of age, and -his betrothed, had all been led to the guillotine to the tune of the -_Marseillaise_. Thirst for revenge, revenge on the detested -Jacobins, was now his sole aim. For a long time he roved about in -the Indian seas, sometimes as a privateer, at others as a -slave-dealer; and was said to have caused the tri-colored flag much -damage, while he acquired a considerable fortune for himself. With -the return of the Bourbons, he came back to France, and settled at -Marseilles. He lived, however, very retired, and employed his large -fortune solely for the poor, for distressed seamen, and for the -clergy. Alms and masses were his only objects of expense. It may -easily be believed, that he acquired no small degree of popularity -among the lower classes and the clergy. But, strangely enough, when -not at church, he spent his time with the most celebrated -fencing-masters, and had acquired in the use of the pistol and the -sword a dexterity that was hardly to be paralleled. In the year -1815, when the royalist reaction broke out in La Vendee, he roved -about for a long time at the head of a band of followers. When at -last this opportunity of cooling his rage was taken from him by the -return of order, he looked out for some victim who was known to him -by his revolutionary principles, and sought to provoke him to -combat. The younger, the richer, the happier the chosen victim was, -the more desirable did he seem. The landlord told me he himself knew -of seven young persons who had fallen before his redoubted sword. - -The next morning at five o'clock, I was at the house of this -singular character. He lived on the ground-floor, in a small simple -room, where, excepting a large crucifix, and a picture covered with -black crape, with the date, 1794, under it, the only ornaments were -some nautical instruments, a trombone, and a human skull. The -picture was the portrait of his guillotined bride; it remained -always vailed, excepting only when he had slaked his revenge with -blood; then he uncovered it for eight days, and indulged himself in -the sight. The skull was that of his mother. His bed consisted of -the usual hammock slung from the ceiling. When I entered, he was at -his devotions, and a little negro brought me meanwhile a cup of -chocolate and a cigar. When he had risen from his knees, he saluted -me in a friendly manner, as if we were merely going for a morning -walk together; afterward he opened a closet, took out of it a case -with a pair of English pistols, and a couple of excellent swords, -which I put under my arm; and thus provided, we proceeded along the -quay toward the port. The boatmen seemed all to know him: "Peter, -your boat!" He seated himself in the stern. - -"You will have the goodness to row," he said; "I will take the -tiller, so that my hand may not become unsteady." - -I took off my coat, rowed away briskly, and as the wind was -favorable, we hoisted a sail, and soon reached Cap Verd. We could -remark from afar our three young men, who were sitting at breakfast -in a garden, not far from the shore. This was the garden of a -_restaurateur_, and was the favorite resort of the inhabitants of -Marseilles. Here you find excellent fish; and also, in high -perfection, the famous _bollenbresse_, a national dish in Provence, -as celebrated as the _olla podrida_ of Spain. How many a -love-meeting has occurred in this place! But this time it was not -Love that brought the parties together, but Hate, his step-brother; -and in Provence the one is as ardent, quick, and impatient as the -other. - -My business was soon accomplished. It consisted in asking the young -men what weapons they chose, and with which of them the duel -was to be fought. The dark-haired youth--his name was M---- -L----,--insisted that he alone should settle the business, and his -friends were obliged to give their word not to interfere. - -"You are too stout," he said to the one, pointing to his portly -figure; "and you"--to the other--"are going to be married; besides, -I am a first-rate hand with the sword. However, I will not take -advantage of my youth and strength, but will choose the pistol, -unless the gentleman yonder prefers the sword." - -A movement of convulsive joy animated the face of my old captain: -"The sword is the weapon of the French gentleman," he said; "I shall -be happy to die with it in my hand." - -"Be it so. But your age?" - -"Never mind; make haste, and _en garde_." - -It was a strange sight: the handsome young man on one side, -overbearing confidence in his look, with his youthful form, full of -grace and suppleness; and opposite him that long figure, half -naked--for his blue shirt was furled up from his sinewy arm, and his -broad, scarred breast was entirely bare. In the old man, every sinew -was like iron wire: his whole weight resting on his left hip, the -long arm--on which, in sailor fashion, a red cross, three lilies, -and other marks, were tattooed--held out before him, and the -cunning, murderous gaze riveted on his adversary. - -"'Twill be but a mere scratch," said one of the three friends to me. -I made no reply, but was convinced beforehand that my captain, who -was an old practitioner, would treat the matter more seriously. -Young L----, whose perfumed coat was lying near, appeared to me to -be already given over to corruption. He began the attack, advancing -quickly. This confirmed me in my opinion; for although he might be a -practiced fencer in the schools, this was proof that he could not -frequently have been engaged in serious combat, or he would not have -rushed forward so incautiously against an adversary whom he did not -as yet know. His opponent profited by his ardor, and retired step by -step, and at first only with an occasional ward and half thrust. -Young L----, getting hotter and hotter, grew flurried; while every -ward of his adversary proclaimed, by its force and exactness, the -master of the art of fence. At length the young man made a lunge; -the captain parried it with a powerful movement, and, before L---- -could recover his position, made a thrust in return, his whole body -falling forward as he did so, exactly like a picture at the Académie -des Armes--"the hand elevated, the leg stretched out"--and his sword -went through his antagonist, for nearly half its length, just under -the shoulder. The captain made an almost imperceptible turn with his -hand, and in an instant was again _en garde_. L---- felt himself -wounded; he let his sword fall, while with his other hand he pressed -his side; his eyes grew dim, and he sank into the arms of his -friends. The captain wiped his sword carefully, gave it to me, and -dressed himself with the most perfect composure. "I have the honor -to wish you good-morning, gentlemen: had you not sung yesterday, you -would not have had to weep to-day;" and thus saying, he went toward -his boat. "'Tis the seventeenth!" he murmured; "but this was easy -work--a mere greenhorn from the fencing-schools of Paris. 'Twas a -very different thing when I had to do with the old Bonapartist -officers, those brigands of the Loire." But it is quite impossible -to translate into another language the fierce energy of this speech. -Arrived at the port, he threw the boatman a few pieces of silver, -saying: "Here, Peter; here's something for you." - -"Another requiem and a mass for a departed soul, at the church of -St. Géneviève--is it not so, captain? But that is a matter of -course." And soon after we reached the dwelling of the captain. - -The little negro brought us a cold pasty, oysters, and two bottles -of _vin d'Artois_. "Such a walk betimes gives an appetite," said the -captain, gayly. "How strangely things fall out!" he continued, in a -serious tone. "I have long wished to draw the crape-vail from before -that picture, for you must know I only deem myself worthy to do so -when I have sent some Jacobin or Bonapartist into the other world, -to crave pardon from that murdered angel; and so I went yesterday to -the coffee-house with my old friend the abbé, whom I knew ever since -he was field-preacher to the Chouans, in the hope of finding a -victim for the sacrifice among the readers of the liberal journals. -The confounded waiters, however, betray my intention; and when I am -there, nobody will ask for a radical paper. When you appeared, my -worthy friend, I at first thought I had found the right man, and I -was impatient--for I had been waiting for more than three hours for -a reader of the 'National' or of 'Figaro.' How glad I am that I at -once discovered you to be no friend of such infamous papers! How -grieved should I be, if I had had to do with you instead of with -that young fellow!" For my part, I was in no mood even for -self-felicitations. At that time, I was a reckless young fellow, -going through the conventionalisms of society without a thought; but -the event of the morning had made even me reflect. - -"Do you think he will die, captain?" I asked. "Is the wound mortal?" - -"For certain!" he replied, with a slight smile. "I have a knack--of -course for Jacobins and Bonapartists only--when I thrust _en -quarte_, to draw out the sword by an imperceptible movement of the -hand, _en tierce_, or _vice versâ_, according to circumstances; and -thus the blade turns in the wound--_and that kills_; for the lung is -injured, and mortification is sure to follow." - -On returning to my hotel, where L---- also was staying, I met the -physician, who had just visited him. He gave up all hope. The -captain spoke truly, for the slight movement of the hand and the -turn of the blade had accomplished their aim, and the lung was -injured beyond the power of cure. The next morning early, L---- -died. I went to the captain, who was returning home with the abbé. -"The abbé has just been to read a mass for him," he said; "it is a -benefit which, on such occasions, I am willing he should -enjoy--more, however, from friendship for him, than out of pity for -the accursed soul of a Jacobin, which in my eyes is worth less than -a dog's! But walk in, sir." - -The picture, a wonderfully lovely maidenly face, with rich curls -falling around it, and in the costume of the last ten years of the -preceding century, was now unvailed. A good breakfast, like that of -yesterday, stood on the table. With a moistened eye, and, turning to -the portrait, he said: "Thérèse, to thy memory!" and emptied his -glass at a draught. Surprised and moved, I quitted the strange man. -On the stairs of the hotel I met the coffin, which was just being -carried up for L----; and I thought to myself: "Poor Clotilde! you -will not be able to weep over his grave." - - - - -Monthly Record of Current Events. - - -THE UNITED STATES. - -Our last Monthly Record reported the proceedings of the Democratic -National Convention held at Baltimore on the 1st of June. On the -16th of the same month, the Whig National Convention met at the same -place, and was permanently organized by the election of Hon. John G. -Chapman, of Maryland, President, with thirty-one Vice-Presidents and -thirteen Secretaries. Two days were occupied in preliminary -business, part of which was the investigation of the right to -several contested seats from the States of Vermont and New York. On -the third day, a committee, consisting of one from each State, -selected by the delegation thereof, was appointed to report a series -of resolutions for the action of the Convention. The resolutions -were reported at the ensuing session, on the same day, by Hon. -George Ashmun, of Massachusetts. They set forth that the Government -of the United States is one of limited powers, all powers not -expressly granted, or necessarily implied by the Constitution, being -reserved to the States or the people;--that while struggling freedom -every where has the warmest sympathy of the Whig party, our true -mission as a Republic is not to propagate our opinions, or to impose -on other countries our form of government by artifice or force, but -to teach by our example, and to show by our success, moderation, and -justice, the blessings of self-government and the advantage of free -institutions;--that revenue ought to be raised by duties on imports -laid with a just discrimination, whereby suitable encouragement may -be afforded to American Industry;--that Congress has power to open -and repair harbors, and remove obstructions from navigable rivers, -whenever such improvements are necessary for the common defense and -for the protection and facility of commerce with foreign nations or -among the States;--that the Compromise acts, including the fugitive -slave law, are received and acquiesced in as a final settlement, in -principle and substance, of the dangerous and exciting questions -which they embrace; that the Whig party will maintain them, and -insist upon their strict enforcement until time and experience shall -demonstrate the necessity of further legislation, to guard against -their evasion or abuse, not impairing their present efficiency; and -that all further agitation of the questions thus settled is -deprecated as dangerous to our peace; and all efforts to continue or -renew that agitation, whenever, wherever, or however the attempt may -be made, will be discountenanced.--These resolutions, after some -discussion, were adopted by a vote of 227 yeas, and 66 nays. -Ballotings for a Presidential candidate were then commenced, and -continued until Monday, the fifth day of the session. There were 396 -electoral votes represented in Convention, which made 149 (a -majority) essential to a choice. Upon the first ballot, President -Fillmore received 133, General Scott 131, and Daniel Webster 29 -votes; and for fifty ballotings this was nearly the relative number -of votes received by each. On the fifty-third ballot, General Scott -receiving 159 votes, Mr. Fillmore 112, and Mr. Webster 21, the -former was declared to have been duly nominated, and that nomination -was made unanimous. Hon. WILLIAM A. GRAHAM, of North Carolina, was -then nominated on the second ballot for Vice-President; and -resolutions were adopted complimentary to Mr. Fillmore and Mr. -Webster; after which the Convention adjourned. - -In reply to a communication from the President of the Convention, -apprising him of his nomination, General Scott has written a letter, -dated June 24th, declaring that he "accepts it with the resolutions -annexed." He adds, that if elected, he shall recommend or approve of -"such measures as shall secure an early settlement of the public -domain favorable to actual settlers, but consistent, nevertheless, -with a due regard to the equal rights of the whole American people -in that vast national inheritance;"--and also of an amendment to our -Naturalization laws, "giving to all foreigners the right of -citizenship who shall faithfully serve, in time of war, one year on -board of our public ships, or in our land-forces, regular or -volunteer, on their receiving an honorable discharge from the -service." He adds, that he should not tolerate any sedition, -disorder, faction, or resistance to the law or the Union on any -pretext, in any part of the land; and that his leading aim would be -"to advance the greatness and happiness of this Republic, and thus -to cherish and encourage the cause of constitutional liberty -throughout the world." Mr. Graham also accepted his nomination, with -a cordial approval of the declarations made in the resolutions -adopted by the Convention.----Since the adjournment of the -Convention, a letter from President Fillmore, addressed to that -body, has been published. It was intrusted to the care of Mr. -Babcock, the delegate in Convention from the Erie, N. Y., district, -in which Mr. Fillmore resides; and he was authorized to present it, -and withdraw Mr. Fillmore's name as a candidate whenever he should -think it proper to do so. In this letter, Mr. Fillmore refers to the -circumstances of embarrassment under which he entered upon the -duties of the Presidency, and says that he at once determined within -himself to decline a re-election, and to make that decision public. -From doing so, however, he was at that time, as well as -subsequently, dissuaded by the earnest remonstrances of friends. He -expresses the hope that the Convention may be able to unite in -nominating some one who, if elected, may be more successful in -retaining the confidence of the party than he has been;--he had -endeavored faithfully to discharge his duty to the country, and in -the consciousness of having acted from upright motives and according -to his best judgment, for the public good, he was quite willing to -have sacrificed himself for the sake of his country. - -The death of HENRY CLAY has been the most marked event of the month. -He expired at Washington, on Tuesday, June 29, after a protracted -illness, and at the advanced age of 75 years. His decease was -announced in eloquent and appropriate terms in both branches of -Congress, and general demonstrations of regard for his memory and -regret at his loss took place throughout the country. His history is -already so familiar to the American public, that we add nothing here -to the notice given of him in another part of this Magazine. His -remains were taken to Lexington, Ky., for interment. - -The proceedings of Congress since our last Record have not been of -special importance. In the Senate on the 28th of June a -communication was received from the President communicating part of -the correspondence had with the Austrian government concerning the -imprisonment of Mr. C. L. Brace. The principal document was a letter -from Prince Schwarzenberg, stating that Mr. Brace was found to have -been the bearer of important papers from Hungarian fugitives in -America to persons in Hungary very much suspected, and also to have -had in his possession inflammatory and treasonable pamphlets; and -that his imprisonment was therefore fully justified. A letter from -Mr. Webster to the American Chargé at Vienna, in regard to Chevalier -Hulsemann's complaints of the U. S. government, has been also -submitted to the Senate. Mr. W. says that notwithstanding his long -residence in this country Mr. Hulsemann seems to have yet to learn -that no foreign government, or its representative, can take just -offense at any thing which an officer of this government may say in -his private capacity; and that a Chargé d'Affairs can only hold -intercourse with this government through the Department of State. -Mr. W. declines to take any notice of the specific subjects of -complaint presented by Mr. H.----In the House of Representatives the -only important action taken has been the passage of a bill providing -for the donation to the several States, for purposes of education -and internal improvement, of large tracts of the public domain. Each -of the old States receives one hundred and fifty thousand acres for -each Senator and Representative in the present Congress: to the new -States the portions awarded are still larger. The bill was passed in -the House on the 26th of June by a vote of ayes 96, nays 86. The -bill was presented by Mr. Bennett of New York, and is regarded as -important, inasmuch as it secures to the old States a much larger -participation in the public lands than they have hitherto seemed -likely to obtain. - -A National Agricultural Convention was held at Washington on the -24th of June, of which Marshall Wilder of Massachusetts was elected -President. It was decided to form a National Agricultural Society, -to hold yearly meetings at Washington.----The Supreme Court in New -York on the 11th of June pronounced a judgment, by a majority, -declaring the American Art-Union to be a lottery within the -prohibition of the Constitution of the State, and that it was -therefore illegal. An appeal has been taken by the Managers to the -Court of Appeals, where it has been argued, but no decision has yet -been given.----Madame Alboni, the celebrated contralto singer, -arrived in New York early in June and has given two successful -concerts.----Governor Kossuth delivered an address in New York on -the 21st of June upon the future of nations, insisting that it was -the duty of the United States to establish, what the world has not -yet seen, a national policy resting upon Christian principles as its -basis. He urged the cause of his country upon public attention, and -declared his mission to the United States to be closed. On the 23d -he delivered a farewell address to the German citizens of New York, -in which he spoke at length of the relations of Germany to the cause -of European freedom and of the duty of the German citizens of the -United States to exert an influence upon the American government -favorable to the protection of liberty throughout the world. It is -stated that his aggregate receipts of money in this country have -been somewhat less than one hundred thousand dollars. - -In Texas, a company of dragoons, under Lieutenant Haven, has had a -skirmish with the Camanche Indians, from whom four captive children -and thirty-eight stolen horses were recovered. About the 1st of June -a family, consisting of a father, mother, and six children, while -encamped at La Mina, were attacked by a party of Camanches, and all -killed except the father and one daughter, who were severely -wounded, and two young children who were rescued. A few days -previous a party of five Californians were all killed by Mexicans -near San Fernando. On the evening of the 10th of May seven Americans -were attacked by a gang of about forty Mexicans and Indians, at a -lake called Campacuas, and five of them were killed. A good deal of -excitement prevailed in consequence of these repeated outrages, and -of the failure of the General Government to provide properly for the -protection of the parties.----Early in June, as the U. S. steamer -Camanche was ascending the Rio Bravo, five persons landed from her -and killed a cow, when the owner came forward and demanded payment. -This was refused with insults, and the marauders returned on board. -The steamer continued her voyage, and the pilot soon saw a party of -men approaching the bank, and fired upon them. They soon after -returned the fire, wounding two of the passengers, one being the -deputy-collector of the Custom-house of Rio Grande, and the other -his son. - -From CALIFORNIA we have intelligence to the 1st of June. -There is no political news of interest. A party of seventy-four -Frenchmen left California last fall for Sonora in Mexico, -accompanied by one American, named Moore. Mr. M. had returned to San -Francisco with intelligence that the party had been favorably -received by the Mexican authorities, who had bestowed upon them a -grant of three leagues of land near Carcospa, at the head of the -Santa Cruz valley, on condition that they should cultivate it for -ten years without selling it, and should not permit any Americans to -settle among them. They had also received from the Mexican -government horses, farming utensils, provisions, and other -necessaries, with permission to have five hundred of their -countrymen join them. They were intending soon to begin working the -rich mines in that neighborhood. Mr. Moore had been compelled by -threats and force to leave them. On his way back he met at Guyamas a -party of twelve who had been driven back, while going to California, -by Indians. While on their way to Sonora, they had fallen in with a -settlement of seventy-five Frenchmen, who treated them with great -harshness, and would have killed them but for the protection of the -Mexican authorities. This hostility between the French and American -settlers in California is ascribed to difficulties which occurred in -the mines between them. The Mexicans, whose hatred of the Americans -in that part of the country seems to be steadily increasing, have -taken advantage of these dissensions, and encourage the French in -their hostility to the Americans.----Previous to its adjournment, -which took place on the 5th of May, the Legislature passed an act to -take the census of the State before the 1st of November.----The -feeling of hostility to the Chinese settlers in California seems to -be increasing. Public meetings had been held in various quarters, -urging their removal, and Committees of Correspondence had been -formed to concert measures for effecting this object. It appears -from official reports that the whole number of Chinamen who had -arrived at San Francisco, from February, 1848, to May, 1852, was -11,953, and that of these only 167 had returned or died. Of the -whole number arrived only seven were women.--Nine missionaries of -the Methodist Episcopal Church had recently arrived, intending to -labor in California and Oregon.--The intelligence from the mines -continued to be highly encouraging. The weather was favorable; the -deposits continued to yield abundantly, and labor was generally well -rewarded. - -From the SANDWICH ISLANDS our intelligence is to the 18th of May. -The session of the Hawaiian Parliament was opened on the 13th of -April. The opening speech of the King sets forth that the foreign -relations of the island are of a friendly character, except so far -as regards France, from the government of which no response has been -received as yet to propositions on the part of Hawaii. He states -that the peace of his dominions has been threatened by an invasion -of private adventurers from California; but that an appeal to the -United States Commissioner, promptly acted upon by Captain Gardner, -of the U. S. ship Vandalia, tranquilized the public mind. He had -taken steps to organize a military force for the future defense of -the island. In the Upper House the draft of a new Constitution had -been reported, and was under discussion. In the other House steps -had been taken to contradict the report that the islands desired -annexation to the United States. - -From NEW MEXICO we learn that Colonel Sumner had removed his -head-quarters to Santa Fé, in order to give more effective military -support to the government. Governor Calhoun had left the country for -a visit to Washington, and died on the way: the government was thus -virtually in the hands of Colonel Sumner. The Indians and Mexicans -continued to be troublesome. - -From UTAH our advices are to May 1st. Brigham Young had been again -elected President. The receipts at the tithing office from November, -1848, to March, 1852, were $244,747, mostly in property; in loans, -&c., $145,513; the expenditures were $353,765--leaving a balance of -$36,495. Missionaries were appointed at the General Conference to -Italy, Calcutta, and England. Edward Hunter was ordained presiding -bishop of the whole church: sixty-seven priests were ordained. The -Report speaks of the church and settlements as being in a highly -flourishing condition. - - -MEXICO. - -We have intelligence from Mexico to the 5th of June. Political -affairs seem to be in a confused and unpromising condition. Previous -to the adjournment of the present Congress the Cabinet addressed a -note to the Chamber of Deputies, asking them to take some decided -step whereby to rescue the government from the difficult position in -which it will be placed, without power or resources, and to save the -nation from the necessary consequences of such a crisis. It was -suggested that the government might be authorized to take, in -connection with committees to be appointed by the Chamber, the -resolutions necessary--such resolutions to be executed under the -responsibility of the Ministry. This note was referred to a -committee, which almost immediately reported that there was no -reason why this demand for extraordinary powers should be granted. -This report was adopted by a vote of 74 to 13. Congress adjourned on -the 21st of May. The President's Address referred to the critical -circumstances in which the country was placed when the Congress -first met, which made it to be feared that its mission would be only -the saddest duty reserved to man on earth, that of assisting at the -burial of his country. The flame of war still blazed upon their -frontier: negotiations designed to facilitate means of communication -which would make Mexico the centre of the commercial world, had -terminated in a manner to render possible a renewal of that war; and -the commercial crisis had reached a development which threatened the -domestic peace and the foreign alliances of the country. There was a -daily increase in the deficit; distrust prevailed between the -different departments; the country was fatigued by its convulsions -and disorders, and weakened by its dissensions; and it seemed -impossible to prolong the existence of the government. How the -country had been rescued from such perils it was not easy to say, -unless it were by the special aid and protection of Providence. -Guided by its convictions and sustained by its hope, the government -had employed all the means at its disposal, and would still endeavor -to draw all possible benefit from its resources, stopping only when -those resources should arrest its action. Fearing that this event -might speedily happen, a simplification of the powers of the -Legislature, during its vacation, had been proposed, instead of -leaving all to the exercise of a discretionary power by the -Executive. To this, however, the Legislature had not assented: and, -consequently, the government considering its responsibility -protected for the future, would spare no means or sacrifices to -fulfill its difficult and delicate mission. To this address the Vice -President of the Chamber replied, sketching the labors of the -session, and saying that the legislative donation of the -extraordinary powers demanded, could not have been granted without a -violation of the Constitution--a fact with which the Executive -should be deeply impressed. The means made use of up to the present -time would be sufficient, if applied with care. The Legislature -hoped, as much as it desired, that such would be the case. Great -anxiety was felt as to the nature of the measures which the -government would adopt: the general expectation seemed to be that -the President Arista would take the whole government into his own -hands, and the suggestion was received with a good deal of favor. It -was rumored that the aid of the United States had been sought for -such an attempt--to be given in the shape of six millions of -dollars, in return for abrogating that clause of the treaty which -requires them to protect the Mexican frontier from the Indians. -This, however, is mere conjecture as yet.----Serious difficulties -have arisen between the Mexican authorities and the American Consul, -Mr. F. W. Rice, at Acapulco. Mr. Rice sold the propeller Stockton, -for wages due to her hands: she was bid off by Mr. Snyder, the chief -engineer, at $3000 cash down, and $8500 within twenty-four hours -after the sale. He asked and obtained two delays in making the first -payment; and finally said he could not pay it until the next day. -Upon this Mr. Rice again advertised the vessel for sale, on his -account: she was sold to Capt. Triton, of Panama, for $4250. Mr. -Snyder then applied to the Mexican court, and the judge went on -board, broke the Consular seals, took possession of the vessel, and -advertised her again for sale. Mr. Rice proclaimed the sale illegal, -and protested against it, and, further, prevented Mr. Snyder -forcibly from tearing down his posted protest. At the day of sale no -bidders appeared. The Mexican authorities then arrested Mr. Rice, -and committed him to prison, where he remained at the latest dates. -Proper representations have of course been made to the U. S. -government, and the matter will doubtless receive proper -attention.----An encounter had taken place in Sonora, between a -party of 300 Indians and a detachment of regular Mexican troops and -National Guards. The latter were forced to retreat.----Gen. Mejia; -who acquired some distinction during the late war, died recently in -the city of Mexico, and Gen. Michelena, at Morelia.----The refusal -of Congress to admit foreign flour, free of duty, had created a good -deal of feeling in those districts where the want of it is most -severely felt. In Vera Cruz, a large public meeting was held, at -which it was determined to request the local authorities to send -for a supply of flour, without regard to the law.----The State of -Durango is in a melancholy condition: hunger, pestilence, and -continued incursions of the Indians, have rendered it nearly -desolate.----Four of the revolutionists under Caravajal, captured by -the Mexicans, were executed by Gen. Avalos, at Matamoras, in June: -two of them were Americans. - - -SOUTH AMERICA. - -There is no intelligence of special interest from any of the South -American States. From _Buenos Ayres_, our dates are to the 15th of -May, when every thing was quiet, and political affairs were in a -promising condition. The new Legislature met on the 1st, and -resolutions had been introduced tendering public thanks to General -Urquiza for having delivered the country from tyranny. He had been -invested with complete control of the foreign relations, and the -affairs of peace and war. Don Lopez was elected Governor of the -province of Buenos Ayres on the 13th, receiving 33 of the 38 votes -in the Legislative Chamber. The choice gives universal satisfaction -to the friends of the new order of things. The Governors of all the -provinces were to meet at Santa Fé on the 29th, to determine upon -the form of a Central Government. General Urquiza was to meet them -in Convention there, and it is stated that he was to be accompanied -by Mr. Pendleton, the United States Chargé, whose aid had been -asked, especially in explaining in Convention the nature and working -of American institutions.----At _Rio Janeiro_ a dissolution of the -Cabinet was anticipated. Great dissatisfaction was felt at certain -treaties recently concluded with Montevideo, and at the -correspondence of Mr. Hudson, the late English Minister, upon the -Slave Trade, which had been lately published in London.----From -_Ecuador_ there is nothing new. Flores still remained at Puna, below -Guayaquil, with his forces.----In _Chili_ there was a slight attempt -at insurrection in the garrison at Trospunta, but it was soon put -down. Six persons implicated in previous revolts were executed at -Copiapo on the 22d of May. - - -GREAT BRITAIN. - -Public attention in England has been to a very considerable extent -engrossed by the approaching elections. The Ministry maintain rigid -silence as to the policy they intend to pursue though it is of -course impossible to avoid incidental indications of their -sentiments and purposes. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. -Disraeli, has issued an address to his constituents, which shows -even more distinctly than his financial _exposé_, of which we gave a -summary last month, that the cause of Protection is, in his -judgment, well-nigh obsolete. In that address he states that the -time has gone by when the injuries which the great producing -interests have sustained from the Free Trade policy of 1846, can be -alleviated or removed by a recurrence to laws which existed before -that time:--"The spirit of the age," he says, "tends to free -intercourse, and no statesman can disregard with impunity the genius -of the epoch in which he lives." It is, however, the intention of -the Ministry to recommend such measures as shall tend to relieve the -producer from the unequal competition he is now compelled to wage, -and the possibility of doing this by a revision and reduction of -taxation, seems to loom in the future. Still, the Chancellor urges, -nothing useful can be done in this direction, unless the Ministry is -sustained by a powerful majority in Parliament; and he accordingly -presses the importance of electing members of the Ministerial -party.----A declaration of at least equal importance was drawn from -the Premier, the Earl of Derby, in the House of Lords, on the 24th -of May, by Earl Granville, who incidentally quoted a remark ascribed -to Lord Derby that a recurrence to the duty on corn would be found -necessary for purposes of revenue and protection. Lord Derby rose to -correct him. He had not represented it as necessary, but only as -desirable,--and whether it should be done or not, depended entirely -on the elections. But he added, that in his opinion, from what he -had since heard and learned, there certainly would not be in favor -of the imposition of a duty on foreign corn, that extensive majority -in the country without which it would not be desirable to impose -it.----Lord John Russell has issued an address to his constituents, -for a re-election, rehearsing the policy of the government while it -was under his direction, sketching the proceedings of the new -Ministry, and declaring his purpose to contend that no duty should -be imposed on the import of corn, either for revenue or protection; -and that the commercial policy of the last ten years is not an evil -to be mitigated, but a good to be extended--not an unwise or -disastrous policy which ought to be reversed, altered, or modified, -but a just and beneficial system which should be supported, -strengthened, and upheld.----The course of the Earl of Malmesbury, -the Foreign Secretary, in regard to the case of Mr. Mather, an -English subject, who had been treated with gross indignities and -serious personal injuries by officers of the Tuscan government, has -excited a good deal of attention. He had first demanded compensation -from the government as a matter of right, and, after consulting Mr. -Mather's father, had named £5000 as the sum to be paid. It seems, -however, from the official documents since published, that he -accompanied this demand with an opinion that it was exorbitant, and -named £500 as a minimum. The negotiation ended by Mr. Scarlett, the -British agent at Florence, accepting £222 as a compensation and that -as a donation from the Tuscan government--waiving the principle of -its responsibility. The matter had been brought up in Parliament, -and the Earl had felt constrained to disavow wholly Mr. Scarlett's -action.----The current debates in Parliament have been devoid of -special interest. On the 8th of June, in reply to a strong speech -from Sir James Graham, Mr. Disraeli vindicated himself from the -charge of having brought the public business into an unsatisfactory -and disgraceful condition, and made a general statement of the bills -which the government thought it necessary to press upon the -attention of Parliament. On the 7th the Militia Bill was read a -third time and passed, by 220 votes to 184.----A bill was pressed -upon the House of Lords by the Earl of Malmesbury, proposing a -Convention with France for the mutual surrender of criminals, which -was found upon examination to give to the French government very -extraordinary powers over any of its subjects in England. The list -of crimes embraced was very greatly extended--and alleged offenders -were to be surrendered upon the mere proof of their identity. All -the leading Peers spoke very strongly of the objectionable features -of the measure, and it was sent to the committee for the purpose of -receiving the material alterations required.----Fergus O'Connor has -been consigned to a lunatic asylum--his insane eccentricities having -reached a point at which it was no longer considered safe to leave -him at liberty.----Professor McDougall has been elected to fill the -chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, vacated by -the resignation of Professor Wilson.----The Irish Exhibition of -Industry was opened at Cork, with public ceremonies, in which the -Lord Lieutenant participated, on the 10th of June.----The General -Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and that of the Free Church both -commenced their sittings on the 20th of May.----The electric -telegraph has been carried across the Irish Channel, from Holyhead -to the Hill of Howth, a distance of sixty-five miles;--the mode of -accomplishing this result was by sinking a cable, as had previously -been done across the Straits of Dover.----The Queen has issued a -proclamation forbidding all Roman Catholic ceremonies, and all -appearance in Catholic vestments, except in Catholic churches or in -private houses. - - -FRANCE. - -The month has not been marked by any event of special importance in -France. The government has continued in its usual course, though -indications are apparent of impending difficulties in the near -future. The number of prominent men who refuse to take the oath of -allegiance is daily increasing, and many who have hitherto filled -places in the councils of the Departments and of the Municipalities, -have resigned them to avoid the oath. General Bedeau has sent a tart -letter to the Minister of War, conveying his refusal; and a public -subscription has been set on foot, with success, in Paris, for the -relief of General Changarnier, who has been reduced to poverty by -his firm refusal to yield to the usurpation.----The President -continues relentlessly his restriction of the press, and has -involved himself in considerable embarrassment by the extent to -which he carries it. The organs of the Legitimist party in all the -great towns have received the warnings which empower the President, -as the next step, to suppress them entirely. The Paris _Débats_ has -lately received a warning for its silence upon political subjects. -But a very singular quarrel has arisen between the President and the -_Constitutionnel_, which has been from the beginning the least -scrupulous of all his defenders. That paper contained an article -intended to influence the Belgian elections then pending, and -distinctly menacing that country with a retaliatory tariff, if its -hostility to Louis Napoleon were not abandoned, or at least -modified. The effect of the publication of this article was such, -that the Belgian Minister demanded an explanation, and was assured -that the article did not meet the approbation of the Government. -This _quasi_ disavowal was published by the Belgian press, and in -reply M. Granier de Cassagnac, the writer of the article, declared -that he had not spoken in his own name, but at the direct instance -and with the full approval of the President. The Paris _Moniteur_ -then contained an official announcement, disavowing M. de -Cassagnac's articles, and stating that "no organ can engage the -responsibility of the Government but the _Moniteur_." The -_Constitutionnel_ replied by a declaration signed by its owner, Dr. -Veron, that he still believed the original article to have been -sanctioned by the President. This brought down upon it an official -warning. Dr. Veron rejoined by expressing his regret, but adding -that the Cabinet had ordered several hundred copies of the paper -containing the articles disavowed; and this he considered _prima -facie_ evidence that they met with the approbation of the -Government. This brought upon the paper a second warning: the next -step, of course, is suppression.----The Paris Correspondents of -three of the London papers have been summoned to the department of -Police, and assured by the Director that they are hereafter to be -held personally responsible, not only for the contents of their own -letters, but for whatever the journals with which they are connected -may say, in leading articles or otherwise, concerning French -affairs. A strong effort was made by them to change this -determination, but without effect.----Girardin, in the _Presse_, -states that General Changarnier, in 1848, proposed to the -Provisional Government the military invasion of England. The General -himself has authorized the _Times_ to give the statement an explicit -contradiction.----M. Heckeren, who was sent by the French Government -to Vienna and Berlin, to ascertain more definitely the disposition -of the Northern Powers toward Louis Napoleon, had returned from his -mission, but its results had not been authoritatively made known. -The London _Times_ has, however, given what purports to be a -synopsis of the documents relating to it. From this it appears that -the allied sovereigns will connive at Louis Napoleon's usurpation of -sovereignty in France for life; but so long as one Bourbon exists -they can recognize no other person as _hereditary_ sovereign of that -country; and they hold themselves bound and justified by the -treaties of 1815 to oppose the establishment of a Bonapartist -dynasty. The three Great Northern Powers, it would seem, are -combining to resuscitate the principles of the Holy Alliance, and to -impose them upon the European system of States as the international -law, notwithstanding the events of the last two-and-twenty years -have rendered them practically obsolete. - -From the other European countries there is little intelligence -worthy of record.----In BELGIUM the elections have resulted in the -increase of the liberal members of the Chamber. An editor, -prosecuted for having libeled Louis Napoleon, has been acquitted by -a jury.----In AUSTRIA a new law has been enacted imposing rigorous -restrictions upon the press. - - - - -Editor's Table. - - -The Moral Influences of the Stage is a subject which, although -earnestly discussed for centuries, still maintains all its -theoretical and practical importance. The weight of argument, we -think, has ever been with the assailants, and yet candor requires -the concession, that there have been, at times, thinking men, -serious men, may we not also say, Christian men, to be found among -the defenders of theatrical representations? On a fair statement of -the case, however, it will plainly appear, that these have ever been -the defenders of an imaginary, or hypothetical, instead of a really -existing stage. - -Never--we think we may safely say it--never has any true friend of -religion and morality been found upholding the theatre as it -actually _is_, or _was_, at any particular period. Indeed, this may -also be said of its most partial advocates. Their warmest defense is -ever coupled with the admission, that, as at present managed, it -needs some thorough and decided reform to make it, in all respects, -what it ought to be. We do not think that we ever read any thing in -advocacy of the stage without some proviso of this kind. It never -_is_--it never _was_--what it ought to be, and might be. But then -the idea is ever held forth of some future reform. We are told, for -example, what the theatre might become, if, instead of being -condemned by the more moral and religious part of the community, it -received the support of their presence, and could have the benefit -of their regulation. - -So plausible have these arguments appeared, that the experiment has -again and again been tried. Reforms have been attempted in the -characters of the plays, of the actors, and of the audiences. Good -men and good women have written expressly for the stage. Johnson and -Hannah Moore, and Young--to say nothing of Buchanan and -Addison--have contributed their services in these efforts at -expurgation, but all alike in vain. Some of these have afterward -confessed the hopelessness of the undertaking, and lamented that by -taking part in it they had given a seeming encouragement to what -they really meant to condemn. The expected reform has never -appeared. If, through great exertion, some improvement may have -manifested itself for a time, yet, sooner or later, the relapse -comes on. Nature--our human nature--will have its way. The evil -elements predominate; and the stage sinks again, until its visible -degradation once more arouses attention, and calls for some other -spasmodic effort, only to meet the same failure, and to furnish -another proof of some radical inherent vitiosity. - -Good plays may, indeed, be acted; but they will not long continue to -call forth what are styled _good audiences_--the term having -reference to numbers and pecuniary avails, rather than to moral -worth. In fact, the theatre presents its most mischievous aspect -when it claims to be a school of morals. Its advocates may talk as -they will about "holding the mirror up to Nature, showing Virtue its -own feature, Vice its own image;" but it can only remind us that -there is a cant of the play-house as well as of the conventicle, and -that Shaftsbury and his sentimental followers can "whine" as well as -Whitfield and Beecher. The common sense of mankind pronounces it at -once the worst of all hypocrisies--the hypocrisy of false sentiment -ashamed of its real name and real character. As a proof of this, we -may say that the stage has never been known in any language by any -epithet denoting instruction, either moral or otherwise. It is the -_play-house_, or house of amusement--the _theatrum_, the place for -shows, for spectacles, for pleasurable emotions through the senses -and the excitements of the sensitive nature. There may have been -periods when moral or religious instruction of some kind could, -perhaps, have been claimed as one end of dramatic representations, -but that was before there was a higher stage, a higher _pulpitum_ -divinely instituted for the moral tuition of mankind. Since that -time, the very profanity of the claim to be a "school of morals" has -only set in a stronger light the fact that, instead of elevating an -immoral community, the stage is itself ever drawn down by it into a -lower, and still lower degradation. - -We will venture the position, that no open vice is so pernicious to -the soul as what may be called a false virtue; and this furnishes -the kind of morality to which the stage is driven when it would make -the fairest show of its moral pretensions. The virtues of the stage -are not Christian virtues. If they are not Christian, they are -anti-Christian; for on this ground there can be no _via media_, no -neutrality. Who would ever think of making the moral excellences -commended in the Sermon on the Mount, or in Paul's Epistles, the -subjects of theatrical instruction? How would humility, forgiveness, -poverty of spirit, meekness, temperance, long-suffering, charity, -appear in a stage hero? In what way may they be made to minister to -the exciting, the sentimental, the melodramatic? These virtues have, -indeed, an elevation to which no stage-heroism or theatrical -affectation ever attained; but such a rising ever implies a previous -descent into the vale of personal humility, a previous lowliness of -spirit altogether out of keeping with any dramatic or merely -æsthetic representation. The Christian moralities can come upon the -stage only in the shape of caricatures, or as the hypocritical -disguise through which some Joseph Surface is placed in most -disparaging contrast with the false virtues or splendid vices the -theatre-going public most admires. - -It is equally true that the most tender emotions find no -fitting-place upon the stage. The deepest pathetic--the purest, the -most soul-healing--in other words, the pathetic of common life, can -not be _acted_ without revolting us. Hence, to fit it for the stage, -pity must be mingled with other ingredients of a more exciting or -spicy kind. It must be associated with the extravagance of love, or -stinging jealousy, or complaining madness, or some other less usual -semi-malevolent passion, which, while it adds to the theatrical -effect, actually deadens the more genial and deeper sympathies that -are demanded for the undramatic or ordinary sufferings of humanity. -We can not illustrate this thought better than by referring the -reader to that most touching story which is given in the July number -of our Magazine, and entitled, "The Mourner and the Comforter." How -rich the effect of such a tale when simply read, without any -external accompaniments!--how much richer, we might say, for the -very want of them! How its "rain of tears" mellows and fertilizes -the hard soil of the human heart! And yet how few and simple the -incidents! How undramatic the outward fictitious dress, through -which are represented emotions the most vitally real in human -nature! Like a strain of the richest, yet simplest music, in which -the accompaniment is just sufficient to call out the harmonious -relations of the melody, without marring by its artistic or dramatic -prominence the deep spiritual reality that dwells in the tones. We -appeal to every one who has read that touching narrative--how -utterly would it be spoiled by being _acted_! There might be some -theatrical effect given to the agitated scene upon the balcony, but -a vail would have to be drawn around the chamber of the mourner, and -the more than heroic friend who sits by her in the long watches of -the night. Such scenes, it may be said, are too common for the -stage--ay, and too holy for it, too. They are too pure for the -Kembles and Sinclairs ever to meddle with, and they know it, and -their audiences feel it. We decide instinctively that all _acting_ -here would be more than out of place. The very thought of theatrical -representation would seem like a profanation of the purest and -holiest affections of our nature. - -And so too of others, which, although not virtues have more of a -prudential or worldly aspect. The stage may sometimes tolerate a -temperance or an anti-gambling hero, but it is only to feed a -temporary public excitement, and the moment that excitement -manifests the first symptom of a relapse, this school of morals must -immediately follow, instead of directing the new public sentiment. -The wonder is, that any thinking man could ever expect it to be -otherwise. Every one knows that the tastes of the audience make the -law to the writer, the actor, and the manager. In this view of the -matter, we need only the application of a very few plain principles -and facts, to show how utterly hopeless must be the idea of the -moral improvement of any representation which can only be sustained -on the tenure of pleasing the largest audiences, without any regard -to the materials of which they are composed. The first of these is, -that the mass of mankind are not virtuous, they are not -intelligent--the second, that even the more virtuous portions are -worse in the midst of an applauding and condemning crowd than they -would be in other circumstances; and the third, that the evil -aspects of our humanity furnish the most exciting themes, or those -best adapted to theatrical representations. - -But the world will become better--the world is becoming better, it -may be said--and why should not the stage share in the improvement? -If the world is becoming better, it is altogether through different -and higher means. If it is becoming better, it is by the influence -of truth and grace--through the Church--upon individual souls -brought to a right view, first of all, of the individual depravity, -and thus by individual accretion, contributing to the growth of a -better public sentiment. The spirit of theatrical representations is -directly the reverse of this. It operates upon men in crowds, not as -assembled in the same space merely, but through those feelings and -influences which belong to them solely or chiefly in masses. -Deriving its aliment from the most outward public sentiment, its -tendency is ever, instead of "holding the mirror up to Nature," in -any self-revealing light, to hide men from themselves. By absorbing -the soul in exciting representations, in which the most depraved can -take a sort of abstract or sentimental interest, it causes men to -mistake this feeling for true virtue and true philanthropy, when -they may be in the lowest hell of selfishness. It may become, in -this way, more demoralizing than a display of the most revolting -vices, because it buries the individual character beneath a mass of -sentiments and emotions in which a man or a woman may luxuriate -without one feeling of penitence for their own transgressions, or -one thought of dissatisfaction with their own wretchedly diseased -moral state. - -The theatre might with far more truth and honesty be defended on the -ground of mere amusement. This is, doubtless, its most real object; -but there is an instinctive feeling in the human soul that it would -not do to trust its defense solely to such a plea. In the first -place, it may be charged with inordinate excess. Who dare justify -the spending night after night in such ceaseless pleasure-seeking? -And if there were not vast numbers who did this, our theatres could -never be supported. To say nothing here of religion, or a life to -come, the mere consideration of this world, and the poor suffering -humanity by which it is tenanted, would urgently forbid that much of -this life, or even a small portion of it, should be devoted to mere -amusement. Within a very few rods of every theatre in our city, -almost every species of misery to which man is subject is daily and -nightly experienced. How, in view of this, can any truly feeling -soul (and we mean by this a very different species of feeling from -that which is commonly generated in theatres) talk of amusing -himself? In the year 1832, during the severest prevalence of the -cholera, the theatres in New York were closed. We well remember the -impatience manifested at the event by those who claimed to represent -the theatre-going public, and with what exulting spirits they called -upon their patrons to improve the jubilee of their opening. We well -remember how freely the terms "bigot" and "sour religionist" were -applied to all who thought a further suppression of heartless -amusements was due, if only as a sorrowing tribute of respect to -suffering humanity. It was all the sheerest Pharisaism, they said, -thus to stand in the way of the innocent and rational amusements of -mankind; as though, forsooth, amusement was the great end of human -existence, and they who so impatiently claimed it actually needed -some relaxation from the arduous and unremitted exertions they had -been making for the relief of the sorrowing and toiling millions of -their race. - -But if not for _amusement_, it might be said, then for _recreation_, -which is a very different thing. The former term is used when the -end aimed at is pleasure merely, without any reference to _the -good_, as a something higher and better than _pleasurable -sensations_, sought simply because they are pleasurable, and without -regard to the spiritual health. In its contemptible French etymology -we see the very soul of the word, so far as such a word may be said -to have any soul. It is _muser_, _s'amuser_, having truly nothing to -do with _music_ or the _Muses_, but signifying to _loiter_, to -_idle_, to _kill time_. We may well doubt whether this ever can be -innocent, even in the smallest degree. Certainly, to devote to it -any considerable portion of our existence, especially in view of -what has been and is now the condition of our race, must be not only -the most heartless, but in its consequences the most damning of -sins. It is in this sense that every true philanthropist, to say -nothing of the Christian, must utter his loud amen to the -denunciation of the heathen Seneca--_Nihil est tam damnosum bonis -moribus quam in spectaculis desidere, tunc enim per voluptatem -facilius vitia surrepunt._--"Nothing is so destructive to good -morals as mere amusement, or the indolent waste of time in public -spectacles; it is through such pleasure that all vices most readily -come creeping into the soul." - -We would have our Editor's Table ever serious, ever earnest, and yet -in true harmony with all that innocent and cheerful and even -mirthful recreation, which is as necessary sometimes for the -spiritual as for the bodily health. We would avoid every appearance -of sermonizing, and yet we can not help quoting here an authority -higher than Seneca--_Vanis mundi pompis renuntio_.--"The vain pomp -of the world I renounce," is the language of the primitive form of -Christian baptism, still literally in use in one of our largest -Christian denominations, and expressed in substance by them all. Now -it can be clearly shown that this word, _pompæ_, was not used, as it -now often is, in a vague and general manner, but was employed with -special reference to public theatrical shows and representations. To -every baptized Christian, it seems to us, the argument must be -conclusive. If theatrical shows (_pompæ_) are not "the world," in -the New Testament sense, what possible earthly thing can be included -under this once most significant name? If they are not embraced in -"the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life," -then not only has language no fixed meaning, but even ideas -themselves have wholly changed. - -Recreation, as we have said, is something very different from -amusement. It is the _re-creating_ or renewing the overtasked mental -or bodily powers, by some relaxing and restoring exercise. It is -pleasurable, as all right things ever are; but here is the -all-important distinction--pleasure is not its _end_. The -accompanying enjoyment is only a laxative and recreative _means_ to -something higher and more ultimate, and more _real_ in human -existence; and it is only on this ground that it becomes either -rational or innocent. Amusement never can be either. - -But those who need recreation in this sense will never seek it in -the theatre. The reason presents itself at once. Experience concurs -with the _a priori_ view, derived from the very nature of the thing, -in declaring that it can never be found there. The emotions called -out in the play-house are exciting--they are exhausting--they are -dissipating. In each of these aspects they are at war with the -legitimate idea of the recreative. They stimulate but do not -invigorate. All mere pleasure-seeking has in it an element of death. -It has its ground in a morbid feeling of want which is ever rendered -still more morbid by gratification. It is the same with that which -lies at the foundation of the appetite for stimulating drinks, -except that here it affects the whole spiritual system. In a word, -the truly recreative exercises of the soul, in which pleasure is a -means and not an end, are ever attended by a sense of freedom, and -this is the best characteristic by which they are to be -distinguished from others that assume the appearance and the name. -Whatever is healthful, either to body or soul, is never enslaving. -The counterfeit passion for enjoyment, on the other hand, is ever -binding the spirit to a deeper and still deeper bondage. From the -one, the mind returns with a healthier and heartier relish to the -more arduous and serious duties of life; the other at every -repetition renders such duties more and more the objects of an ever -growing distaste and aversion. The slightest observation of the -habitual frequenters of the theatre will determine to which class of -mental exercises the influence of its representations are to be -assigned. - -But there is another thought connected with this. We find in such an -idea of the nature and end of theatrical representations the true -reason why actors and actresses never have been, and never can be -regarded as a reputable class in society. They may contribute ever -so much to our amusement, but no principle of gratitude, even if -there were any ground for so sacred a feeling, will ever bring the -very persons who use them as a means of enjoyment to recognize their -social equality. A favorite actor may now and then be toasted at a -public dinner. Grave men may sometimes manifest a public interest in -some actress who has furnished an exciting theme of newspaper -discussion, or judicial investigation. But let the higher tests be -demanded, and the instinctive feeling of our humanity manifests -itself at once. They never have been, they never will be admitted -freely to the more intimate social relations. The fashionable -frequenter of the theatre would not cordially give his daughter in -marriage to the most popular of actors; he would turn with aversion -from the thought that his son should choose for his bride the most -accomplished actress that ever called forth the rapturous plaudits -of a pleasure-maddened audience. We need not go far for the reason. -It may be partly found in the fact, or suspicion, of their generally -vicious lives. But of that, and the cause of it, in another place. -It is a different though related thought to which we would here give -prominence. With all that is pretended about the theatre being a -place of instruction, or recreation, there is an under-consciousness -that its great end is pleasurable emotion merely--in a word, -amusement. Along with this there is another suppressed consciousness -that such an end is not honorable to our humanity, and that those, -therefore, whose chief employment is to minister to it, can not be -regarded as having a high or even a reputable calling. This decision -may be called unjust, but we can not alter it, even though we fail -to discover the true ground in which it has its origin. The -distinctions exist in the very nature of things and ideas. No -theoretical fraternization can ever essentially change them. - -There are three grades of employment whose respective rank must ever -be independent of all conventionalities. Two are reputable, though -differing in degree. The third is essentially dishonorable through -all its great variety of departments. The highest place is given, -and must ever be given, to those who live for the spirit's good, or -the health of the body as conducive to it--the second to those most -useful and reputable employments that have for their end the -material well-being, in itself considered. The region of dishonor -embraces all of every class whose aim is the [Greek: hêdhy] instead -of the [Greek: hagathhon], the _pleasurable_ instead of the _good_ -or the truly _useful_, whether in respect to soul or body--all who -live to please, to gratify simply--to _amuse_ mankind--in other -words, to aid them in annihilating their precious earthly time, and -in turning away their thoughts from the great ends of their immortal -existence. The poorest mechanic, or day-laborer, who is toiling in -the lowest department of the _utile_ (or useful as we have defined -it) is of a higher rank, belongs to a more honorable class, than the -proudest play-actor that ever trod the boards of a theatre. Among -these "men and women of pleasure," there may be also numerous -varieties and degrees, from the female balancer on the tight rope to -the most fashionable danseuse; from the clown of the circus to the -Forrest or Macready of the aristocratic theatre; but the instinct of -the human consciousness recognizes in them all but one genus. They -all live to _amuse_, and such a life can not be honorable. - -It may be said, perhaps, that this dishonor should attach to those -who are _amused_ as well as to the amusers. It might be so on the -score of abstract justice; but, in fact, from the very thought there -comes an additional load of obloquy upon the condemned caste. Mere -pleasure-seeking, mere amusement, is felt to be, in itself, a -degradation of the rational nature, and a semi-conscious sense of -this finds relief by casting it upon the instruments who are -supposed to receive pecuniary emolument in place of the unavoidable -dishonor. It may be thus seen that the disrepute of actors and -actresses is no accidental disadvantage, but has an unchangeable -reason in the laws of the human consciousness. From no other cause -could have come that universal reprobation of the scenic character, -to be found in the writings of the most enlightened heathen as well -as in those of the most zealous Christian Fathers. The opinions of -Plato and Socrates on this point are most express, and Augustine -only utters the sentiment of the Classical as well as the Christian -world when he says (De Civ. Dei, 2. 14), _Adores removent a -societate civitatis--ab honoribus omnibus repellunt ho mines -scenicos_--"They remove actors from civic society--from all honors -do they repel the men of the stage." The exceptions to this only -prove the rule. The fact that in a very few cases, like those of -Garrick and Mrs. Siddons, they have barely emerged from this load of -dishonor, only shows how universal and how deep is the opprobrium. - -The stage can not be reformed. Our proof of this has, thus far, been -drawn mainly from historical experience. But such experience, like -every other legitimate induction, forces upon us the thought of some -underlying principle of evil, some inherent vitiosity which no -change of outward circumstances could be ever expected to eradicate. -In searching for this essential vice we need not indulge in any -affectation of profundity. It will be found, we think, lying nearer -the surface than is commonly imagined. Why is play-acting radically -vicious? Because, we answer, it is just what its name imports. It is -_acting_--_acting_ in the theatrical sense--acting a part--an -unreal part, in distinction from the stern verities which ever ought -to occupy this serious and earnest life of ours. We have alluded to -the heartlessness of the stage in view of the abounding sufferings -and sorrows of the world. It is a varied aspect of the same truth we -would here present. We have no right to waste upon mere amusement -the precious time that might be employed in the alleviation of so -much misery. We have no right to be _acting_, or to take delight in -seeing others _acting_, in a world where abounding insincerity, -falsehood, and disguise, are ever demanding truthfulness, and -earnestness, and reality, as the noblest and most valuable elements -in human character. Certainly there is a call upon us to avoid every -thing of even a seemingly contrary tendency, in whatever fair -disguise it may present itself, or under whatever fair name of art, -or æsthetics, or literature, it may claim our admiration. The -objection is not so much that the representation is fictitious in -itself, as its tendency to generate fictitious characters in the -actors and spectators. No sober thinking man can look round upon our -world without perceiving that its prevailing depravity is just that -which the theatre is most adapted to encourage. There is acting, -stage-acting, every where--in politics, in literature, and even in -religion. Men are playing State and playing Church. Artificialness -of character is pervading our "world of letters" to a most -demoralizing extent. We are every where living too much out of -ourselves--alternately the victims and creators of false public -sentiments under which the theatrical spirit of the times is burying -every thing real and truthful in human nature. Our morals are -theatrical; our public and social life is theatrical; our -revolutions and our sympathy with revolutions are theatrical; our -political conventions are theatrical; our philanthropy and our -reforms are theatrical. - -But we can not at present dwell upon this view in its more general -aspects. In the more immediate effect upon actors and actresses -themselves we find the radical cause of the vicious lives which have -ever characterized them as a class. Men and women who act every -character will have no character of their own. The dangerous faculty -of assuming any passion, and any supposed moral state, must, in the -end, be inconsistent with that earnestness of feeling without which -there can be neither moral nor intellectual depth. We have neither -time nor space to dwell upon those evil effects of theatrical -representations which are best known and most generally admitted. -Whoever demands proof of them may be referred to the records of our -Criminal Courts. We would rather search for the root of the evil. It -is here in the most interior idea of the drama that we find the -virus fountain from which all its poison flows, and of which what -are called the incidental evils, are but the necessary ultimate -manifestations. It is not found simply in the personation of vicious -characters, whether in the shape of heroic crime or vulgar comedy. -The radical mischief is in the fact that the theatre is the great -storehouse and seminary of _false feeling_; and all false feeling, -without the exception even of the religious (in fact, the higher the -pretension the greater the evil), is so much spiritual poison. By -this we mean an emotion and a sentimentality having no ground in any -previous healthy moral state with which they may be organically -connected. No fact is more certain than that such a seeming virtue -may be called out in the worst of men, and that instead of truly -softening and meliorating, it invariably exerts a hardening -influence, rendering the affections less capable of being aroused -to the genuine duties and genuine benevolence of real life. It is -indeed a blessed and a blissful thing to have a feeling heart; but, -then, the feeling must be real; that is, as we have defined it, -flowing from within as the legitimate product of a true, moral -organism. Better be without all feeling than have that which is the -unnatural result of artificial stimulus. Better that the soul be an -arid desert than that it should be watered by such Stygian streams, -or luxuriate in the rank Upas of such a deadly verdure. There is -evidence in abundance that a man may melt under the influence of a -theatrical sentimentality, and yet go forth to the commission of the -worst of crimes; with a freedom, too, all the greater for the -fictitious virtue under which his true character has been so -completely concealed from his own eyes. - -It might, at first, seem strange that this should be so. The -emotions of benevolence, of compassion, of patriotism, it might be -said, must be the same whatever calls them forth. But a true -analysis will show that there is not only a great but an essential -difference. In the one case feeling is the natural result of a sound -soul in direct communion with the realities of life. In the other it -is entirely artificial.--One has its ground in the reason and the -conscience; the other in the sensitive and imaginative nature. One -comes to us in the due course of things; the other we create for -ourselves. The one is ever recuperative, elevating while it humbles, -softening while it invigorates. It grows stronger and purer by -exercise. It never satiates, never exhausts, never reacts. The other -ever produces an exhaustion corresponding to the unnatural -excitement, and like every other artificial stimulus reduces the -spiritual nature to a lower state at every repetition. In short, to -use the expressive Scriptural comparisons, the one is a continual -pouring into broken cisterns; the other is like a well of _living -water_, springing up to everlasting life. Nothing is more alluringly -deceptive, and therefore more dangerous, than the cultivation of the -æsthetic nature, either to the exclusion of the moral, or by -cherishing a public sentiment that confounds them together. We -should be warned by the fact, of which history furnishes more than -one example, that a nation may be distinguished for artistic and -dramatic refinement, and yet present the most horrid contrast of -crime and cruelty. A similar view may be taken of an age noted for a -theoretical, or sentimental, or theatrical philanthropy. There is -great reason to fear that it will be followed, if not accompanied, -by one distinguished for great ferocity and recklessness of actual -human suffering. - -But to return to our analogy. It might with equal justice be -maintained, in respect to the body, that physical _strength_ is the -same, whatever the cause by which it is produced. And yet we all -know that there is a most essential difference between that vigor of -nerve and muscle which is the result of the real and natural -exercise of the healthy organism, in the performance of its -legitimate functions, and that which comes from maddening artificial -stimulants. They may appear the same for the moment; and yet we know -that the one has an element of invigorating and _re-creating_ life; -the other has the seeds of death, and brings death into the human -microcosm with all its train of physical as well as spiritual woes. - -And this suggests that idea in which we find the most interior -difference between true and false feeling. In the one the emotion is -sought for its own sake as an _end_. In the other it is the _means_ -to a higher good. One seeks to save its life and loses it. The other -loses its life and finds it. The true benevolence is unconscious of -itself as an end, and through such unconsciousness attains to -substantial satisfaction. The spurious looks to nothing but the -luxury of its own emotion, and thus continually transmutes into -poison the very aliment on which it feeds. Like Milton's incestuous -monsters, so do the matricidal pleasures of artificial sentiment. - - Into the womb - That bred them ever more return-- - -engendering, in the end, a fiercer want, and giving birth to a more -intolerable pain-- - - Hourly conceived - And hourly born with sorrow infinite. - -There, too, we find the right notion of that word which would seem -so incapable of all strict definition--we mean the much-used and -much-abused term, _sentimentalism_. It differs from true feeling in -this, that it is a _feeling to feel_--or, for the sake of feeling--a -_feeling of one's own feelings_ (if we may use the strange -expression), instead of the woes and sufferings of others, which are -not strictly the _objects_, but only the _means_ of luxurious -excitement, to this introverted state of the affections. Hence, -while true benevolence ever goes forth in the freedom of its -unconsciousness, sentimentalism is ever most egotistical, ever -turning inward to gaze upon itself, and _feel itself_, and thus ever -more in the most rigorous and ignominious bondage. - -The same position, had we time, might be taken in respect to what -may be styled false, or theatrical mirth. Even mirth, which, under -other circumstances, and when produced by other causes, might be an -innocent and healthful recreation, is here utterly spoiled, because -we know it to be all _acting_. It is all false; there is no reality -in it; there is no true merry heart there. To the right feeling, -there is even a thought of sadness in the spectacle, when we reflect -how often amid the wearisome repetition of what must be to him the -same stale buffoonery, the soul of the wretched actor may be -actually aching, and bitterly aching, beneath his comic mask. - -Our argument might, perhaps, be charged with proving too much--with -invading the sacred domain of poetry--with condemning all works of -fiction and all reading, as well as acting, of plays. We would like -to dispose of these objections if we had time. In some respects, and -to a certain extent, their validity might be candidly admitted. In -others, we might make modifications and distinctions, drawing the -line, as we think we could, in accordance with the demands of right -reason, right faith, right taste, and right morals. But the limits -of our Editorial Table do not permit; and we, therefore, leave our -readers to draw this line for themselves, believing that, in so -doing, a sound moral sense, proceeding on the tests here laid down, -will easily distinguish all healthful and recreative reading -from those inherent evils that must ever belong to dramatic -representations. - - - - -Editor's Easy Chair. - - -"Ouf! ouf!"--The French have a funny way of writing a letter, as -well as of telling a story. For instance, our friend of the -_Courrier_, whose gossip we have time and again transmuted, with -some latitude of construction into our own noon-tide sentences, -commences one of his later epistles with the exclamation, "_Ouf! -ouf!_" "And this," says he, "is the best _resumé_ that I can give -you of the situation of Paris." It is a cry of distress, and of -lassitude, breaking out from the Parisian heart, over-burdened with -plenitude of pleasure; it is the re-action of the fêtes of May. How -many things in ten days! How much dust--cannon-smoke--fire--fury--Roman -candles--thunder--melodramas--and provincials! How much -theatre-going--dining out--spent francs--_demitasses_--and ennui! - -It is no wonder that your true Parisian is troubled with the crowd -and uproar that the fêtes bring to Paris, and, above all, with the -uncouth hordes of banditti provincials. The New-Yorker or the -Philadelphian can look complacently upon the throngs that our -Eastern and Northern steamers disgorge upon the city, and upon the -thousand wagons of "Market-street;" for these, all of them, not only -bring their quota of money to his till, but they lend a voice and a -tread to the hurry and the noise in which, and by which, your -true-blooded American feels his fullest life. - -But the Parisian--living by daily, methodic, quiet, uninterrupted -indulgence of his tastes and humors--looks harshly upon the stout -wool-growers and plethoric vineyard men, who elbow him out of the -choicest seats at the Theatre of the Palais Royal, and who break -down his appreciative chuckle at a stroke of wit, with their -immoderate guffaw. Then, the dresses of these provincials are a -perpetual eye-sore to his taste. Such coats! such hats! such canes! -The very sight of them makes misery for your habitual frequenter of -the _Maison d'or_, or of the _Café Anglais_. - -Moreover, there is something in the very _insouciance_ of these -country-comers to Paris which provokes the citizen the more. What do -they care for their white bell-crowns of ten years ago? or what, for -marching and counter-marching the Boulevard, with a fat wife on one -arm, and a fat daughter on the other? What do they care for the -fashion of a dinner, as they call for a _bouillon_, followed with a -steak and onions, flanked by a melon, and wet with a deep bottle of -_Julienne premier_? - -What do they care for any _mode_, or any proprieties of the Faubourg -St. Honoré, as they leer at the dancers of the _Bal Mabil_, or roar -once and again at the clown who figures at the _Estaminet-Café_ of -the Champs Elyssées? - -In short, says our aggrieved friend, the letter-writer, they press -us, and torture us every where; they eat our bread, and drink our -wine, and tread on our toes, and crowd us from our seats, as if the -gay capital were made for them alone! Nor is the story unreal: -whoever has happened upon that mad French metropolis, in the days of -its _fête_ madness, can recall the long procession of burly and -gross provincials who swarm the streets and gardens, like the lice -in the Egypt of Pharaoh. - -In the old kingly times, when fêtes were regal, and every -Frenchman gloated at the velvet panoply, worked over with golden -_fleurs-de-lis_, as they now gloat at the columns of their -Republican journals, their love for festal-days was well hit off in -an old comedy. The shopkeeper (in the play) says to his wife, "Take -care of the shop; I am going to see the king." And the wife -presently says to the chief clerk, "Take care of the shop; I am -going to see the king." And the clerk, so soon as the good woman is -fairly out of sight, says to the _garçon_, "Take care of the shop; I -am going to see the king." And the _garçon_ enjoins upon the dog to -"take care of the shop, as he is going to see the king." And the -dog, stealing his nose out at the door, leaves all in charge of the -parroquet, and goes to see the king! - -The joke made a good laugh in those laughing days: nor is the -material for as good a joke wanting now. The prefect leaves business -with the sub-prefect, that he may go up to the Paris fête. The -sub-prefect leaves his care with some commissioner, that he may go -up to the Paris fête. And the commissioner, watching his chance, -steals away in his turn, and chalks upon the door of the prefecture, -"Gone to the fêtes of May." - -All this, to be sure, is two months old, and belonged to that -festive season of the Paris year, which goes before the summer. Now, -if report speaks true, with provincials gone home, and the booths -along the Champs Elyssées struck, and the theatric stars escaped to -Belgium, or the Springs, the Parisian is himself again. He takes his -evening drive in the Bois de Boulogne; he fishes for invitations to -Meudon, or St. Cloud; he plots a descent upon Boulogne, or Aix la -Chapelle; he studies the summer fashions from his apartments on the -Boulevard de la Madeleine; he takes his river-bath by the bridge of -the Institute; he smokes his evening cigar under the trees by the -National Circus; and he speculates vaguely upon the imperial -prospects of his President, the Prince Louis. - -Meantime, fresh English and Americans come thronging in by the -Northern road, and the Havre road, and the road from Strasbourg. -They cover every floor of every hotel and _maison garnie_ in the Rue -Rivoli. They buy up all the couriers and valets-de-place; they swarm -in the jewelry and the bronze shops of the Rue de la Paix; and they -call, in bad French, for every dish that graces the _carte du jour_ -in the restaurants of the Palais Royal. They branch off toward the -Apennines and the Alps, in flocks; and, if report speak true, the -Americans will this year outnumber upon the mountains of Switzerland -both French and German travelers. Indeed, Geneva, and Zurich, and -Lucerne, are now discussed and brought into the map of tourists, as -thoughtlessly as, ten years since, they compared the charms of the -Blue Lick and the Sharon waters. - -Look at it a moment: Ten days, under the Collins guidance, will land -a man in Liverpool. Three days more will give him a look at the -Tower, the Parks, Windsor Castle, Buckingham Palace, and Paternoster -Row; and on the fourth he may find himself swimming in a first-class -French car, on damask cushions, at forty miles the hour from -Boulogne to Paris. Five days in the capital will show him (specially -if he is free of service-money) the palaces of Versailles, the -Louvre, the park at St. Cloud, the church of Notre Dame, the -Madeleine, the Bourse, the Dead House, a score of balls, half as -many theatres, the pick of the shops, and the great Louis himself. - -Three other summer days, allowing a ten hours' tramp over the -galleries and sombre grounds of Fontainebleau, will set him down, at -the door of "mine host" of the Hotel de l'Ecu, in the city of -Geneva, and he will brush the dews from his eyes in the morning, -within sight of the "blue, arrowy Rhone," and "placid Leman, and the -bald white peak of Mont Blanc." A Sunday in the Genevese church, -will rest his aching limbs, and give him hearing of such high -doctrine as comes from the lips of Merle d'Aubigné, and Monday will -drift him on _char-a-banc_ straight down through wooded -Sardinia--reading Coleridge's Hymn--into the marvelous valley of -Chamouny. - -There, he may take breath before he goes up upon the Sea of Ice; and -afterward he may idle, on donkeys or his own stout feet, over such -mountain passes as will make Franconia memories tame, and boat it -upon the Lake of Lucerne; and dine at the White Swan of Frankfort, -and linger at Bingen, and drink Hock at Heidelberg; and chaffer with -Jean Maria Farina at Cologne, and measure the stairs of the belfry -at Antwerp, and toss in a cockle shell of a steamer across the -straits, and lay him down in his Collins berth one month from his -landing, a fresher and fuller man--with only six weeks cloven from -his summer, and a short "five hundred" lifted from his purse. - -The very fancy of it all--so easy, and so quick-coming--makes our -blood beat in the office-chair, and tempts us strangely to fling -down the pen, and to book ourselves by the Arctic. - - * * * * * - -We happened the other day upon an old French picture of Washington, -which it may be worth while to render into passable English. It -comes from the writings of M. DE BROGLIE. - -"I urged," he says, "M. de Rochambeau to present me, and the next -day was conducted by him to dine with the great general. He -received, most graciously, a letter from my father, and gave me a -pleasant welcome. The general is about forty-nine--tall, well-made, -and of elegant proportions. His face is much more agreeable than -generally represented: notwithstanding the fatigues of the last few -years, he seems still to possess all the agility and freshness of -youth. - -"His expression is sweet and frank; his address rather cold, though -polished; his eye, somewhat pensive, is more observant than -flashing; and his look is full of dignified assurance. He guards -always a dignity of manner which forbids great familiarity, while it -seems to offend none. He seems modest, even to humility; yet he -accepts, kindly and graciously, the homage which is so freely -rendered him. His tone of voice is exceedingly low; and his -attention to what is addressed to him, so marked, as to make one -sure he has fully understood, though he should venture no reply. -Indeed this sort of circumspection is a noted trait of his -character. - -"His courage is rather calm than brilliant, and shows itself rather -in the coolness of his decision, than in the vigor with which he -battles against odds. - -"He usually dines in company with twenty or thirty of his officers; -his attention to them is most marked and courteous; and his dignity, -at table only, sometimes relapses into gayety. He lingers at dessert -for an hour or two, eating freely of nuts, and drinking wine with -his guests. I had the honor of interchanging several _toasts_ with -the general; among others, I proposed the health of the Marquis de -Lafayette. He accepted the sentiment with a very benevolent smile, -and was kind enough to offer, in turn, the health of my own family. - -"I was particularly struck with the air of respect and of admiration -with which his officers uniformly treated General Washington." - -M. de Broglie makes mention of the meeting of Washington and Gates, -after their unfortunate difference, and speaks in high praise of the -conduct of both. He furthermore suggests that the assignment of the -chief command of the army to General Greene was owing to a certain -feeling of jealousy which Washington entertained for the reputation -of Gates: a suggestion, which neither contemporaneous history, or -the relative merits of Greene and of Gates would confirm. - -It is not a little singular how greedy we become to learn the most -trivial details of the private life of the men we admire. Who would -not welcome nowadays any _bona fide_ contemporaneous account of the -meals or dress of William Shakspeare, or of Francis Bacon? And what -a jewel of a spirit that would be, who would make some pleasant -letter-writer for the Tribune, the _medium_ of communicating to us -what colored coat Shakspeare wore when he wooed Ann Hathaway, and -how much wine he drank for the modeling of Jack Falstaff! Were there -no Boswells in those days, whose spirits might be coaxed into -communicative rappings about the king of the poets? We recommend the -matter, in all sincerity, to the Misses Media. - - * * * * * - -A French court-room is not unfrequently as "good as a play:" besides -which, the Paris reporters have a dainty way of working up the -infirmities of a weak wicked man into a most captivating story. They -dramatize, even to painting the grave nod of the judge; and will -work out a farce from a mere broken bargain about an ass!--as one -may see from this trial of Léonard Vidaillon. - -Léonard Vidaillon, as brave a cooper as ever hammered a hoop, having -retired from business, bethought him of buying an equipage for his -family; but hesitated between the purchase of a pony or a donkey. - -"A pony," said he, to himself, "is a graceful little beast, genteel, -_coquet_, and gives a man a 'certain air;' but on the other hand, -your pony is rather hard to keep, and costly to equip. The donkey -takes care of himself--eats every thing--wants no comb or brush; -but, unfortunately, is neither vivacious or elegant." - -In the midst of this embarrassment, an old friend recommended to -him--a mule. With this idea flaming in his thought, Léonard ran over -all of Paris in search of a mule, and ended with finding, at the -stable of a worthy donkey-drover, a little mule of a year old--of -"fine complexion"--smaller than a horse--larger than a donkey--with -a lively eye--in short, such a charming little creature as bewitched -the cooper, and secured the sale. - -The price was a hundred francs, it being agreed that the young mule -should have gratuitous nursing of its donkey-mother for three -months; at the expiration of which time our cooper should claim his -own. - -The next scene opens in full court. - -Léonard, the defendant, is explaining. - -"Yes, your honor, I bought the mule, to be delivered at the end of -three months. At the end of three months I fell sick; I lay a-bed -twelve weeks; I drugged myself to death; I picked up on water-gruel; -I got on my legs; and the second day out I went after my little -mule." - -DONKEY-MAN (being plaintiff).--The court will observe that three -months and twelve weeks make six months. - -The Judge nods acquiescence. - -LEONARD.--Agreed. They make six months. I went then after my little -mule, a delicate creature, not larger than a large ass, that I had -picked out expressly for my little wagon. I went, as I said, to see -my little mule. And what does the man show me? A great, yellow -jackass, high in the hips, with a big belly, that would be sure to -split the shafts of my carriage! I said to him, "M. Galoupeau, this -is not my little mule, and I sha'n't pay you." - -GALOUPEAU (_plaintiff_).--And what did I say? - -LEONARD.--You swore it was my mule. - -GALOUPEAU.--I said better than that: I said I couldn't constrain the -nature of the beast, and hinder a little mule from growing large. - -LEONARD.--But mine was a blond, and yours is yellow. - -GALOUPEAU.--Simply another effect of nature! And I have seen a -little black ass foal turn white at three months old! - -LEONARD.--Do you think I have filled casks so long, not to know that -red wine is red, and white wine, white. - -GALOUPEAU.--I don't know. I don't understand the nature of wines; -but donkeys--yes. - -JUDGE (_to the defendant_).--So you refuse to take the mule? - -LEONARD.--I rather think so--a mule like a camel, and such a -ferocious character, that he came within an ace of taking my life! - -JUDGE.--You will please to make good this point of the injuries -sustained. - -LEONARD.--The thing is easy. This M. Galoupeau insisted that I -should take a look at his beast, and brought him out of the stable. -The animal made off like a mad thing, and came near killing all the -poultry. Then M. Galoupeau, who professes to know his habits, -followed him up to the bottom of the yard, spoke gently to him, and -after getting a hand upon his shoulder, called me up. As for myself, -I went up confidently. I came near the beast, and just as I was -about to reach out my hand for a gentle caress, the brute kicked me -in the stomach--such a kick!--Mon Dieu! but here, your Honor, is the -certificate--"twelve days a-bed; one hundred and fifty leeches." All -that for caressing the brute! - -GALOUPEAU.--If you were instructed, M. Léonard, in the nature of -these beasts, you would understand that they never submit to any -flattery from behind; and you know very well that you approached him -by the tail. - -Here two stable-boys were called to the stand, who testified that -Signor Léonard Vidaillon, late cooper, did approach their master's -jackass by the tail; and furthermore, that the mule (or jackass) was -ordinarily of a quiet and peaceable disposition. This being shown to -the satisfaction of the Court, and since it appeared that an -inexperience, arising out of ignorance of the nature of the beast, -had occasioned the injury to Signor Vidaillon, the case was decided -for the plaintiff. Poor Léonard was mulcted in the cost of the mule, -the costs of the suit, the cost of a hundred and fifty leeches, and -the cost of broader shafts to his family wagon. - -We have entertained our reader with this report--first, to show how -parties to a French suit plead their own cause; and next, to show -how the French reporters render the cause into writing. The story is -headed in the French journal, like a farce--"A little mule will -grow." - - * * * * * - -As for the town, in these hot days of summer, it looks slumberous. -The hundreds who peopled the up-town walks with silks and plumes, -are gone to the beach of Newport, or the shady verandas of the -"United States." Even now, we will venture the guess, there are -scores of readers running over this page under the shadow of the -Saratoga colonnades, or in view of the broad valley of the Mohawk, -who parted from us last month in some cushioned _fauteuil_ of the -New York Avenues. - -The down-town men wear an air of _ennui_, and slip uneasily through -the brick and mortar labyrinths of Maiden-lane and of John-street. -Brokers, even, long for their Sunday's recess--when they can steal -one breath of health and wideness at New Rochelle, or Rockaway. -Southerners, with nurses and children, begin to show themselves in -the neighborhood of the Union and Clarendon, and saunter through -our sunshine as if our sunshine were a bath of spring. - -Fruits meantime are ripening in all our stalls; and it takes the -edge from the sultriness of the season to wander at sunrise, through -the golden and purple show of our Washington market. Most of all, to -such as are tied, by lawyer's tape or editorial pen, to the desks of -the city, does it bring a burst of country glow to taste the -firstlings of the country's growth, and to doat upon the garden -glories of the year--as upon so many testimonial clusters, brought -back from a land of Canaan. - -And in this vein, we can not avoid noting and commending the -increasing love for flowers. Bouquets are marketable; they are -getting upon the stalls; they flank the lamb and the butter. Our -civilization is ripening into a sense of their uses and beauties. -They talk to us even now--(for a tenpenny bunch of roses is smiling -at us from our desk) of fields, fragrance, health, and wanton youth. -They take us back to the days when with urchin fingers we grappled -the butter-cup and the mountain daisy--days when we loitered by -violet banks, and loved to loiter--days when we loved the violets, -and loved to love; and they take us forward too--far forward to the -days that always seem coming, when flowers shall bless us again, and -be plucked again, and be loved again, and bloom around us, year -after year; and bloom over us, year after year! - - * * * * * - -The two great hinges of public chat are--just now--the rival -candidates, Generals Pierce and Scott; serving not only for the hot -hours of lunch under the arches of the Merchants' Exchange, but -toning the talk upon every up-bound steamer of the Hudson, and -giving their creak to the breezes of Cape May. - -Poor Generals!--that a long and a worthy life should come to such -poor end as this. To be vilified in the journals, to be calumniated -with dinner-table abuse, or with worse flattery--to have their -religion, their morals, their courage, their temper, all brought to -the question;--to have their faces fly-specked in every hot shop of -a barber--to have their grandparents, and parents all served up in -their old clothes; to have their school-boy pranks ferreted out, and -every forgotten penny pitched into their eyes; to have their wine -measured by the glass, and their tears by the tumbler; to have their -names a bye-word, and their politics a reproach--this is the honor -we show to these most worthy candidates! - - * * * * * - -As a relief to the wearisome political chat, our city has just now -been blessed with Alboni; and it is not a little curious to observe -how those critics who were coy of running riot about Jenny Lind, are -lavishing their pent-up superlatives upon the new-comer. The odium -of praising nothing, it appears, they do not desire; and seize the -first opportunity to win a reputation for generosity. The truth is, -we suspect, that Alboni is a highly cultivated singer, with a voice -of southern sweetness, and with an air of most tempered -pleasantness; but she hardly brings the _prestige_ of that wide -benevolence, noble action, and _naïve_ courtesy, which made the -world welcome Jenny as a woman, before she had risked a note. - -In comparing the two as artists, we shall not venture an opinion; -but we must confess to a strong liking for such specimen of -humanity, as makes its humanity shine through whatever art it -embraces. Such humanity sliding into song, slides through the song, -and makes the song an echo; such humanity reveling in painting, -makes the painting only a shadow on the wall. Every true artist -should be greater than his art; or else it is the art that makes -him great. - -And while we are upon this matter of song, we take the liberty of -suggesting, in behalf of plain-spoken, and simple-minded people, -that musical criticism is nowadays arraying itself in a great -brocade of words, of which the fustian only is clear to common -readers. We can readily understand that the art of music, like other -arts, should have its technicalities of expression; but we can not -understand with what propriety those technicalities should be warped -into such notices, as are written professedly for popular -entertainment and instruction. - -If, Messrs. Journalists, your musical critiques are intended solely -for the eye of connoisseurs, stick to your shady Italian; but if -they be intended for the enlightenment of such hungry outside -readers, as want to know, in plain English, how such or such a -concert went off, and in what peculiar way each artist excels, for -Heaven's sake, give us a taste again of old fashioned Saxon -expletive! He seems to us by far the greatest critic, who can carry -to the public mind the clearest and the most accurate idea of what -was sung, and of the way in which it was sung. It would seem, -however, that we are greatly mistaken; and that the palm of -excellence should lie with those, whose periods smack most -of the green-room, and cover up opinions with a profusion of -technicalities. We shall not linger here, however, lest we be -attacked in language we can not understand. - - * * * * * - -Among the novelties which have provoked their share of the boudoir -chit-chat, and which go to make our monthly digest of trifles -complete, may be reckoned the appearance of a company of trained -animals at the Astor Place Opera House. Their débût was modest and -maidenly; and could hardly have made an eddy in the talk, had not -the purveyors of that classic temple, entered an early protest -against the performance, as derogatory to the dignity of the place. - -This difficulty, and the ensuing discussions, naturally led to a -comparison of the habits of the various animals, who are accustomed -to appear in that place, whether as spectators, or as actors. What -the judicial decision may have been respecting the matter, we are -not informed. Public opinion, however, seems to favor the conclusion -that the individuals composing the monkey troup would compare well, -even on the score of dignity, with very many habitués of the house; -and that the whole monkey tribe, being quite harmless and -inoffensive, should remain, as heretofore, the subjects of Christian -toleration, whether appearing on the bench (no offense to the -Judges) or the boards. - -With this theatric note, to serve as a snapper to our long column of -gossip, we beg to yield place to that very coy lady--the Bride of -Landeck. - - -AN OLD GENTLEMAN'S LETTER. - -"THE BRIDE OF LANDECK." - -DEAR SIR--The small village of Landeck is situated in a very -beautiful spot near the river Inn, with a fine old castle to the -southeast, against the winds from which quarter it shelters the -greater part of the village--a not unnecessary screen; for easterly -winds in the Tyrol are very detestable. Indeed I know no country in -which they are any thing else, or where the old almanac lines are -not applicable-- - - "When the wind is in the east, - 'Tis neither good for man or beast." - -Some people, however, are peculiarly affected by the influence of -that wind; and they tell a story of Dr. Parr--for the truth of -which I will not vouch, but which probably has some foundation in -fact. When a young man, he is said to have had an attack of ague, -which made him dread the east wind as a pestilence. He had two -pupils at the time, gay lads, over whose conduct, as well as whose -studies, he exercised a very rigid superintendence. When they went -out to walk, Parr was almost sure to be with them, much to their -annoyance on many occasions. There were some exceptions, however; -and they remarked that these exceptions occurred when the wind was -easterly. Boys are very shrewd, and it did not escape the lads' -attention, that every day their tutor walked to the window, and -looked up at the weather-cock on the steeple of the little parish -church. Conferences were held between the young men; and a carpenter -consulted. A few days after, the wind was in the east, and the -Doctor suffered them to go out alone. The following day it was in -the east still. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, -Saturday, all easterly wind--if the weather-cock might be believed. -Sunday, Parr went to church, and shivered all day. The next week it -was just the same thing. Never was such a spell of easterly wind. -Parr was miserable. But at the end of some five weeks, a friend, and -man of the world, came to visit him, with the common salutation -of--"A fine day, Doctor!" - -"No day is a fine day, sir, with an easterly wind," said Parr, with -his usual acerbity. - -"Easterly wind?" said his visitor, walking toward the window; "I -don't think the wind is east--yes it is, indeed." - -"Ay, sir, and has been for these six weeks," answered Parr, sharply. -"I could tell it by my own sensations, without looking at the -weather-cock." - -"Why, Doctor," answered the other, "the wind was west yesterday: -that I know; and I thought it was west to-day." - -"Then you thought like a fool, sir," answered Parr. "A man who can -not tell when the wind is in the east, has no right to think at all. -Let him look at the weather-cock." - -"But the weather-cock may be rusty," answered the other; "and your -weather-cock must be rusty if it pointed to the east yesterday; for -it blew pretty smartly from the west all day." - -"Do you think I am a fool, sir: do you think I am a liar?" asked -Parr, angrily. - -"No; but you may be mistaken, Doctor," replied the other. "Even -Solomon, as you know, made a mistake sometimes; and you are mistaken -now; and the weather-cock too. Look at the clouds: they are coming -rapidly from the west. If you would take my advice, you would look -to our friend there on the top of the steeple." - -"I will, sir--I will this moment," replied Parr; and ringing the -bell violently, he ordered his servant to take the village carpenter -and a bottle of oil, and have the weather-cock examined and greased. -He and his visitor watched the whole proceeding from the window--the -bringing forth of the ladders, the making them fast with ropes, the -perilous ascent, and then the long operations which seemed much more -complicated than the mere process of greasing the rusty -weather-cock. "What can the fools be about?" said Parr. In the end, -however, the deed, whatever it was, was done; and the servant and -the carpenter descended, and came toward the house. By this time the -weather-cock had whirled round, pointing directly to the west, and -the Doctor asked eagerly, as soon as the men appeared. "Well, -sir--well: what prevented the vane from turning?" - -"A large nail, sir," answered the man. - -"I will never trust a weather-cock again," cried Parr. - -"Nor your own sensations either, Doctor," said his friend, "unless -you are very sure they are right ones; for if you pin them to a -weather-cock, there may be people who will find it for their -interest to pin the weather-cock to the post." - -The two poor pupils from that day forward lost their advantage; but -they had six weeks of fun out of it, and, like the fishes in the -Arabian tale, "were content." - -There is an old proverb, that "Fancy is as good for a fool as -physic," and I believe the saying might be carried further still; -for there is such a thing as corporeal disease, depending entirely -upon the mind; and that with very wise men too. The effect of mental -remedies we all know, even in very severe and merely muscular -diseases. Whether Doctor Parr was cured of his aguish sensations or -not, I can not tell; but I have known several instances of mental -remedies applied with success; to say nothing of having actually -seen the incident displayed by old Bunbury's caricature of a -rheumatic man enabled to jump over a high fence by the presence of a -mad bull. I will give you one instance of a complete, though -temporary cure, performed upon a young lady by what I can only -consider mental agency. One of the daughters of a Roman Catholic -family, named V----, a very beautiful and interesting girl, had -entirely lost the use of her limbs for nearly three years, and was -obliged to be fed and tended like a child. Her mind was acute and -clear, however, and as at that time the celebrated Prince Hohenloe -was performing, by his prayers, some cures which seemed miraculous, -her father entered into correspondence with him, to see if any thing -could be done for the daughter. The distance of some thousand miles -lay between the Prince and the patient; but he undertook to pray and -say mass for her on a certain day, and at a certain hour, and -directed that mass should also be celebrated in the city where she -resided, exactly at the same moment. As the longitude of the two -places was very different, a great deal of fuss was made to -ascertain the precise time. All this excited her imagination a good -deal, and at the hour appointed the whole family went to mass, -leaving her alone, and in bed. On their return they found Miss -V----, who for years had not been able to stir hand or foot, up, -dressed, and in the drawing-room. For the time, she was perfectly -cured; but I have been told that she gradually fell back into the -same state as before. - -Mental medicine does not always succeed, however; and once, in my -own case, failed entirely. When traveling in Europe, in the year -1825, I was attacked with very severe quartan fever. I was drugged -immensely between the paroxysms, and the physician conspired with my -friends to persuade me I was quite cured. They went so far as, -without my knowing it, to put forward a striking-clock that was on -the mantle-piece, and when the hour struck, at which the fit usually -seized me, without any appearance of its return, they congratulated -me on my recovery, and actually left me. Nevertheless, at the real -hour, the fever seized me again, and shook me nearly to pieces. -Neither is it that mental medicine sometimes fails; but it sometimes -operates in a most unexpected and disastrous manner; especially when -applied to mental disease; and I am rather inclined to believe, that -corporeal malady may often be best treated by mental means; mental -malady by corporeal means. - -A friend of my youth, poor Mr. S---- lost his only son, in a very -lamentable manner. He had but two children: this son and a daughter. -Both were exceedingly handsome, full of talent and kindly affection; -and the two young people were most strongly attached to each other. -Suddenly, the health of young S---- was perceived to decline. He -became grave--pale--sad--emaciated. His parents took the alarm. -Physicians were sent for. No corporeal disease of any kind could be -discovered. The doctors declared privately that there must be -something on his mind, as it is called, and his father with the -utmost kindness and tenderness, besought him to confide in him, -assuring him that if any thing within the reach of fortune or -influence could give him relief, his wishes should be accomplished, -whatever they might be. - -"You can do nothing for me, my dear father," replied the young man, -sadly; "but you deserve all my confidence, and I will not withhold -it. That which is destroying me, is want of rest. Every night, about -an hour after I lie down, a figure dressed in white, very like the -figure of my dear sister, glides into the room, and seats itself on -the right side of my bed, where it remains all night. If I am asleep -at the time of its coming, I am sure to wake, and I remain awake all -night with my eyes fixed upon it. I believe it to be a delusion; but -I can not banish it; and the moment it appears, I am completely -under its influence. This is what is killing me." - -The father reasoned with him, and took every means that could be -devised either by friends or physicians, to dispel this sad -phantasy. They gave parties; they sat up late; they changed the -scene; but it was all in vain. The figure still returned; and the -young man became more and more feeble. He was evidently dying; and -as a last resource, it was determined to have recourse to a trick to -produce a strong effect upon his mind. The plan arranged was as -follows. His sister was to dress herself in white, as he had -represented the figure to be dressed, and about the hour he -mentioned, to steal into his room, and seat herself on the other -side of the bed, opposite to the position which the phantom of his -imagination usually occupied, while the parents remained near the -door to hear the result. She undertook the task timidly; but -executed it well. Stealing in, with noiseless tread, she approached -her brother's bed-side, and by the faint moonlight, saw his eyes -fixed with an unnatural stare upon vacancy, but directed to the -other side. She seated herself without making the least noise, and -waited to see if he would turn his eyes toward her. He did not stir -in the least, however; but lay, as if petrified by the sight his -fancy presented. At length she made a slight movement to call his -attention, and her garments rustled. Instantly the young man turned -his eyes to the left, gazed at her--looked back to the right--gazed -at her again; and then exclaimed, almost with a shriek, "Good God: -there are two of them!" - -He said no more. His sister darted up to him. The father and mother -ran in with lights; but the effect had been fatal. He was gone. - -Nor is this the only case in which I have known the most detrimental -results occur from persons attempting indiscreetly to act upon the -minds of the sick while in a very feeble state. Once, indeed, the -whole medical men--and they were among the most famous of their time -in the world--belonging to one of the chief hospitals of Edinburgh, -were at fault in a similar manner. The case was this: A poor woman -of the port of Leith had married a sailor, to whom she was very -fondly attached. They had one or two children, and were in by no -means good circumstances. The man went to sea in pursuit of his -usual avocations, and at the end of two or three months intelligence -was received in Leith of the loss of the vessel with all on board. -Left in penury, with no means of supporting her children but her own -hard labor, the poor woman, who was very attractive in appearance, -was persuaded to marry a man considerably older than herself, but in -very tolerable circumstances. By him she had one child; and in the -summer of the year 1786, she was sitting on the broad, open way, -called Leith-walk, with a baby on her lap. Suddenly, she beheld her -first husband walk up the street directly toward her. The man -recognized her instantly, approached, and spoke to her. But she -neither answered nor moved. She was struck with catalepsy. In this -state she was removed to the Royal Infirmary, and her case, from the -singular circumstances attending it, excited great interest in the -medical profession in Edinburgh, which at that time numbered among -its professors the celebrated Cullen, and no less celebrated -Gregory. The tale was related to me by one of their pupils, who was -present, and who assured me that every thing was done that science -could suggest, till all the ordinary remedial means were exhausted. -The poor woman remained without speech or motion. In whatever -position the body was placed, there it remained; and the rigidity of -the muscles was such, that when the arm was extended, twenty minutes -elapsed before it fell to her side by its own weight. Death was -inevitable, unless some means could be devised of rousing the mind -to some active operation on the body. From various indications, it -was judged that the poor woman was perfectly sensible, and at a -consultation of all the first physicians of the city, the first -husband was sent for, and asked if he was willing to co-operate, in -order to give his poor wife a chance of life. He replied, with deep -feeling, that he was willing to lay down his own life, if it would -restore her: that he was perfectly satisfied with her conduct; knew -that she had acted in ignorance of his existence; and explained, -that having floated to the coast of Africa upon a piece of the -wreck, he had been unable for some years to return to his native -land, or communicate with any one therein. In these circumstances, -it was determined to act immediately. The Professors grouped -themselves round the poor woman, and the first husband was brought -suddenly to the foot of the bed, toward which her eyes were turned, -carrying the child by the second husband in his arms. A moment of -silence and suspense succeeded; but then, she who had lain for so -many days like a living corpse, rose slowly up, and stretched out -her hands toward the poor sailor. Her lips moved, and with a great -effort she exclaimed, "Oh, John, John--you know that it was nae my -fault." The effort was too much for her exhausted frame: she fell -back again immediately, and in five minutes was a corpse indeed. - -This story may have been told by others before me, for the thing was -not done in a corner. But I always repeat it, when occasion serves, -in order to warn people against an incautious use of means to which -we are accustomed to attribute less power than they really possess. - -And now, I will really go on with "The Bride of Landeck" in my next -letter.--Yours faithfully, - P. - - - - -Editor's Drawer. - - -Here is a very amusing picture of that species of odd fish known as -a _Matter-of-Fact Man_: - -"I am what the old women call 'An Odd Fish.' I do nothing, under -heaven, without a motive--never. I attempt nothing unless I think -there is a probability of my succeeding. I ask no favors when I -think they won't be granted. I grant no favors when I think they are -not deserved; and finally, I don't wait upon the girls when I think -my attentions would be disagreeable. I am a matter-of-fact man--_I_ -am. I do things seriously. I once offered to attend a young lady -home--I did, seriously: that is, I meant to wait on her home if she -wanted me. She accepted my offer. I went home with her; and it has -ever since been an enigma to me whether she wanted me or not. She -took my arm, and said not a word. I bade her 'Good Night,' and she -said not a word. I met her the next day, and _I_ said not a word. I -met her again, and she gave a two-hours' talk. It struck me as -curious. She feared I was offended, she said, and couldn't for the -life of her conceive why. She begged me to explain, but didn't give -me the ghost of a chance to do it. She said she hoped I wouldn't be -offended: asked me to call: and it has ever since been a mystery to -me whether she really wanted me to call or not. - -"I once saw a lady at her window. I thought I would call. I _did_. I -inquired for the lady, and was told that she was not at home. I -expect she was. I went _away_ thinking so. I rather think so still. -I met her again. She was offended--said I had not been 'neighborly.' -She reproached me for my negligence; said she thought I had been -unkind. And I've ever since wondered whether she _was_ sorry or not. - -"A lady once said to me that she should like to be married, if she -could get a good congenial husband, who would make her happy, or at -least _try_ to. She was not difficult to please, she said. I said, 'I -should like to get married too, if I could get a wife that would try -to make me happy.' She said, 'Umph!' and looked as if she meant what -she said. She _did_. For when I asked her if she thought she could -be persuaded to marry me, she said, she'd rather be excused. I -excused her. I've often wondered _why_ I excused her. - -"A good many things of this kind have happened to me that are -doubtful, wonderful, mysterious. What, then, is it that causes doubt -and mystery to attend the ways of men? _It is the want of fact._ -This is a matter-of-fact world, and in order to act well in it, we -must deal in matter-of-fact." - - * * * * * - -Some modern author says of gambling, that it is "a magical stream, -into which, if a man once steps, and wets the sole of his foot, he -must needs keep on until he is overwhelmed." Perhaps some readers of -the "Drawer" may have heard of the officer, who, having lost all his -money at play, received assistance from a friend, on condition that -he would never after touch a pack of cards. A few weeks after, -however, he was found in an out-house drawing short and long straws -with a brother-gamester for hundreds of pounds! - -"The most singular species of gambling, however, is one which is -said to be practiced among the blacks in Cuba. Many of these stout, -hearty, good-humored fellows daily collect about the docks in -Havanna, waiting for employment, and gambling in cigars, for they -are inveterate smokers. This forms one of their most favorite -amusements. Two parties challenge each other, and each lays down, in -separate places, three or more cigars, forming a figure resembling a -triangle: they then withdraw a few paces, and eagerly watch their -respective 'piles.' The owner of the 'pile' _on which a fly first -alights_, is entitled to the whole! - -"It should be added, that a pile smeared any where with molasses, -to attract the more ready visit of the flies, was considered in the -light of 'loaded dice' among 'professional men' of a kindred stamp." - - * * * * * - -Let any man, "in populous city pent," who has left the cares, -turmoils, and annoyances of the town for a brief time behind him, -with the heated bricks and stifling airs, that make a metropolis -almost a burthen in the fierce heats of a summer solstice, say -whether or no this passage be not true, both in "letter" and in -"spirit:" - -"In the country a man's spirit is free and easy; his mind is -discharged, and at its own disposal: but in the city, the persons of -friends and acquaintances, one's own and other people's business, -foolish quarrels, ceremonious visits, impertinent discourses, and a -thousand other fopperies and diversions, steal away the greater part -of our time, and leave us no leisure for better and more necessary -employment. Great towns are but a larger sort of prison to the soul, -like cages to birds, or 'pounds' to beasts." - - * * * * * - -There is a good story told, and we believe a new one--(at least, so -far as we know, it is such, as the manuscript which records it is -from a traveled friend, in whose "hand-of-write" it has remained -long in the "Drawer")--a story of Samuel Rogers, the rich banker, -and accomplished poet of "The Pleasures of Memory:" - -Rogers arrived at Paris at noon one day in the year 18--. He found -all his countrymen prepared to attend a splendid party at -Versailles. They were all loud in expressing their regrets that he -could not accompany them. They were "very sorry"--but "the thing was -impossible:" "full court-dresses alone were admissible;" and to -obtain one _then_--why "of course it was in vain to think of it." - -Rogers listened very patiently; told them to "leave him entirely to -himself;" and added, that "he was sure he could find some amusement -somewhere." - -No sooner were they gone, than he began to dress; and within the -space of a single hour he was on the road to Versailles, fully -equipped, in a blue coat, white waistcoat, and drab pantaloons. At -the door of the splendid mansion in which the company were -assembled, his further progress was opposed by a servant whose -livery was far more showy and imposing than his own costume. - -Rogers affected the utmost astonishment at the interruption, and -made as if he would have passed on. The servant pointed to his -dress: - -"It is not _comme il faut_: you can not pass in: Monsieur must -retire." - -"Dress! dress!" exclaimed Rogers, with well-feigned surprise: "Not -pass! not enter! Why, mine is the same dress that is worn by the -_General Court_ at Boston!" - -No sooner were the words uttered, than the doors flew open, and the -obsequious valet, "booing and booing," like Sir Pertinax -Macsycophant in the play, preceded the poet, and in a loud voice -announced: - -"_Monsieur le General Court, de Boston!_" - -The amusement of the Americans in the group scarcely exceeded that -of the new-made "General" himself. - -On another occasion, Rogers relates, he was announced at a Parisian -party as "Monsieur le Mort," by a lackey, who had mistaken him for -"Tom Moore." - -Not unlike an old New-Yorker, who was announced from his card as - -"_Monsieur le Koque en Bow!_" - -His simple name was Quackenbos! - -Now that we are hearing of the manner in which foolish and -ostentatious Americans are lately representing themselves in Paris -by military titles, as if connected with the army of the United -States, perhaps "Monsieur le General Court, de Boston" may "pass -muster" with our readers. - -The implied satire, however, of the whole affair, strikes us as not -altogether without a valuable lesson for those miscalled "Americans" -who forget alike their country and themselves while abroad. - - * * * * * - -When the oxy-hydrogen microscope was first exhibited in Edinburgh, a -poor woman, whose riches could never retard her ascent to the -kingdom above, took her seat in the lecture-room where the wonders -of the instrument were shown, and which were, for the first time, to -meet her sight. A piece of lace was magnified into a salmon-net; a -flea was metamorphosed into an elephant; and other the like marvels -were performed before the eyes of the venerable dame, who sat in -silent astonishment staring open-mouthed at the disk. But when, at -length, a milliner's needle was transformed into a poplar-tree, and -confronted her with its huge eye, she could "hold in" no longer. - -"My goodness!" she exclaimed, "a camel could get through _that_! -There's some hopes for the rich folk yet!" - - * * * * * - -Legal tautology and unnecessary formulas have often been made the -theme of ridicule and satire; but we suspect that it is somewhat -unusual to find a simple "_levy_" made with such elaborate -formalities, or, more properly, "solemnities," as in the following -instance: - -The Dogberryan official laid his execution very formally upon a -saddle; and said: - -"_Saddle_, I level upon you, in the name of the State!" - -"_Bridle_, I level upon _you_, in the name of the State!" - -Then, turning to a pair of martingales, the real name of which he -did not know, he said: - -"Little forked piece of leather, I level on you, in the name of the -State!" - -"Oh, yes! oh, yes! oh, yes! Saddle, and Bridle, and little forked -piece of leather, I now _inds_ you upon this execution, and summon -you to be and appear at my sale-ground, on Saturday, the tenth of -this present month, to be executed according to law. Herein fail -not, or you will be proceeded against for contempt of the -constable!" - - * * * * * - -We find recorded in the "Drawer" two instances where ingenuity was -put in successful requisition, to obviate the necessity of "making -change," a matter of no little trouble oftentimes to tradesmen and -others. A rude fellow, while before the police-magistrate for some -misdemeanor, was fined nine dollars for eighteen oaths uttered in -defiance of official warning that each one would cost him fifty -cents. He handed a ten-dollar bill to the Justice, who was about -returning the remaining one to the delinquent, when he broke forth: - -"No, no! keep the whole, keep the whole! _I'll swear it out!_" - -And he proceeded to expend the "balance" in as round and condensed a -volley of personal denunciation as had ever saluted the ears of the -legal functionary. He then retired content. - -Something similar was the "change" given to one of our hack-drivers -by a jolly tar, who was enjoying "a sail" in a carriage up Broadway. -A mad bull, "with his spanker-boom rigged straight out abaft," or -some other animal going "at the rate of fourteen knots an hour" in -the street, attracted Jack's attention, as he rode along; and, -unable to let the large plate-glass window down, he broke it to -atoms, that he might thrust forth his head. - -"A dollar and a half for _that_!" says Jehu. - -"Vot of it?--here's the blunt," said the sailor, handing the driver -a three-dollar note. - -"I can't change it," said the latter. - -"Well, never mind!" rejoined the tar; "_this_ will make it right!" - -The sudden crash of the _other_ window told the driver in what -manner the "change" had been made! - - * * * * * - -Some bachelor-reader, pining in single-blessedness, may be induced, -by the perusal of the ensuing parody upon Romeo's description of an -apothecary, to "turn from the error of his way" of life, and both -confer and receive "reward:" - - "I do remember an old Bachelor, - And hereabout he dwells; whom late I noted - In suit of sables, with a care-worn brow, - Conning his books; and meagre were his looks; - Celibacy had worn him to the bone; - And in his silent chamber hung a coat, - The which the moths had used not less than he. - Four chairs, one table, and an old hair trunk, - Made up 'the furniture;' and on his shelves - A greasy candle-stick; a broken mug, - Two tables, and a box of old cigars; - Remnants of volumes, once in some repute, - Were thinly scattered round, to tell the eye - Of prying strangers, "_This man had no wife!_" - His tattered elbow gaped most piteously; - And ever as he turned him round; his skin - Did through his stockings peep upon the day. - Noting his gloom, unto myself I said: - 'And if a man did covet single life, - Reckless of joys that matrimony gives, - Here lives a gloomy wretch would show it him - In such most dismal colors, that the shrew, - Or slut, or idiot, or the gossip spouse, - Were each an heaven, compared to such a life!'" - -"There are always two sides to a question," the bachelor-"defendant" -may affirm, in answer to this; and possibly himself try a hand at a -contrast-parody. - - * * * * * - -There are a good many proverbs that will not stand a very close -analysis; and some one who is of this way of thinking has selected a -few examples, by way of illustration. The following are specimens: - -"_The more the merrier._"--Not so, "by a jug-full," one hand, for -example, is quite enough in a purse. - -"_He that runs fastest gets most ground._"--Not exactly; for then -footmen would get more than their masters. - -"_He runs far who never turns._"--"Not quite: he may break his neck -in a short course. - -"_No man can call again yesterday._"--Yes, he may _call_ till his -heart ache, though it may never come. - -"_He that goes softly goes safely._"--Not among thieves. - -"_Nothing hurts the stomach more than surfeiting._"--Yes; _lack_ of -meat. - -"_Nothing is hard to a willing mind._"--Surely; for every body is -willing to get money, but to many it is hard. - -"_None so blind as those that will not see._"--Yes; those who _can -not_ see. - -"_Nothing but what is good for something._"--"Nothing" isn't good -for _any_ thing. - -"_Nothing but what has an end._"--A ring hath no end; for it is -round. - -"_Money is a great comfort._"--But not when it brings a thief to the -State Prison. - -"_The world is a long journey._"--Not always; for the sun goes over -it every day. - -"_It is a great way to the bottom of the sea._"--Not at all; it is -merely "a stone's throw." - -"_A friend is best found in adversity._"--"No, sir;" for then there -are none to be found. - -"_The pride of the rich makes the labor of the poor._"--By no manner -of means. The labor of the poor makes the pride of the rich. - - * * * * * - -The following lines, accompanying a trifling present, are not an -unworthy model for those who wish to say a kind word in the most -felicitous way: - - "Not want of heart, but want of art - Hath made my gift so small; - Then, loving heart, take hearty love, - To make amends for all. - Take gift with heart, and heart with gift, - Let will supply my want; - For willing heart, nor hearty will, - Nor is, nor shall be scant." - -Please to observe how adroitly an unforced play upon words is -embodied in these eight lines. - - * * * * * - -There is "more truth than poetry" in the subjoined _Extract from a -Modern Dictionary._ - -_The Grave._--An ugly hole in the ground, which lovers and poets -very often wish they were in, but at the same time take precious -good care to keep out of. - -_Constable._--A species of snapping-turtle. - -_Modesty._--A beautiful flower, that flourishes only in secret -places. - -_Lawyer._--A learned gentleman who rescues your estate from the -hands of your opponent, and keeps it himself. - -_"My Dear."_--An expression used by man and wife at the commencement -of a quarrel. - -_"Joining Hands" in Matrimony._--A custom arising from the practice -of pugilists shaking hands before they begin to fight. - -_"Watchman."_--A man employed by the corporation to sleep in the -open air. - -_Laughter._--A singular contortion of the human countenance, when a -friend, on a rainy day, suddenly claims his umbrella. - -_Dentist._--A person who finds work for his own teeth by taking out -those of other people. - - * * * * * - -A singular anecdote of Thomas Chittenden the first Governor of the -State of Vermont, has found its way into our capacious receptacle. -"Mum," said he, one night (his usual way of addressing his wife), -"Mum, who is that stepping so softly in the kitchen?" - -It was midnight, and every soul in the house was asleep, save the -Governor and his companion. He left his bed as stealthily as he -possibly could, followed the intruder into the cellar, and, without -himself being perceived, heard him taking large pieces of pork out -of his meat-barrel, and stowing them away in a bag. - -"Who's there?" exclaimed the Governor, in a stern, stentorian voice, -as the intruder began to make preparations to "be off." - -The thief shrank back into the corner, as mute as a dead man. - -"Bring a candle, Mum!" - -The Governor's wife went for the light. - -"What are you waiting for, Mr. Robber, Thief, or whatever your -Christian-name may be?" said the Governor. - -The guilty culprit shook as if his very joints would be sundered. - -"Come, sir," continued Governor Chittenden, "fill up your sack and -be off, and don't be going round disturbing honest people so often, -when they want to be taking their repose." - -The thief, dumb-founded, now looked more frightened than ever. - -"Be quick, man," said the Governor, "fill up, sir! I shall make but -few words with you!" - -He was compelled to comply. - -"Have you got enough, now? Begone, then, in one minute! When you -have devoured this, come again in the day-time, and I'll give you -more, rather than to have my house pillaged at such an hour as this. -One thing more, let me tell you, and that is, that, as sure as fate, -if I ever have the smallest reason to suspect you of another such an -act, the law shall be put in force, and the dungeon receive another -occupant. Otherwise, you may still run at large for any thing that I -shall do." - -The man went away, and was never afterward known to commit an -immoral act. - - * * * * * - -This story is related, as a veritable fact, of a Dutch justice, -residing in the pleasant valley of the Mohawk not a thousand miles -from the city of Schenectady: - -He kept a small tavern, and was not remarkable for the acuteness of -his mental perceptions, nor would it appear was at least _one_ of -his customers much better off in the matter of "gumption." One -morning a man stepped in and bought a bottle of small-beer. He stood -talking a few minutes, and by-and-by said: - -"I am sorry I purchased this beer. I wish you would exchange it for -some crackers and cheese to the same amount." - -The simple-minded Boniface readily assented, and the man took the -plate of crackers and cheese, and ate them. As he was going out, the -old landlord hesitatingly reminded him that he hadn't _paid_ for -them. - -"Yes, I did," said the customer; "I gave you the beer for 'em." - -"Vell den, I knowsh dat; but den you haven't give me de monish for -de _beersh_." - -"But I didn't _take_ the beer: there stands the same bottle now!" - -The old tavern-keeper was astounded. He looked sedate and confused; -but all to no purpose was his laborious thinking. The case was still -a mystery. - -"Vell den," said he, at length, "I don't zee how it ish: I got de -beersh--yaäs, I _got_ de beersh; but den, same times, I got no -monish! Vell, you _keeps_ de grackers--und--gheese; but I don't want -any more o' your gustoms. You can keeps away from my davern!" - - * * * * * - -Some years ago, at the Hartford (Conn.) Retreat for the Insane, -under the excellent management of Doctor B----, a party used -occasionally to be given, to which those who are called "sane" were -also invited; and as they mingled together in conversation, -promenading, dancing, &c., it was almost impossible for a stranger -to tell "which was which." - -On one of these pleasant occasions a gentleman-visitor was "doing -the agreeable" to one of the ladies, and inquired how long she had -been in the Retreat. She told him; and he then went on to make -inquiries concerning the institution, to which she rendered very -intelligent answers; and when he asked her, "_How do you like the -Doctor?_" she gave him such assurances of her high regard for the -physician, that the stranger was entirely satisfied of the Doctor's -high popularity among his patients, and he went away without being -made aware that his partner was no other than _the Doctor's wife_! - -She tells the story herself, with great zest; and is very frequently -asked by her friends, who know the circumstances, "how she likes the -Doctor!" - - * * * * * - -A fine and quaint thought is this, of the venerable Archbishop -Leighton: - -"Riches oftentimes, if nobody take them away, make to _themselves_ -wings, and fly away; and truly, many a time the undue sparing of -them is but letting their wings grow, which makes them ready to fly -away; and the contributing a part of them to do good only clips -their wings a little, and makes them stay the longer with their -owner." - -This last consideration may perhaps be made "operative" with certain -classes of the opulent. - - * * * * * - -Is not the following anecdote of the late King of the French not -only somewhat characteristic, but indicative of a superior mind? - -Lord Brougham was dining with the King in the unceremonious manner -in which he was wont to delight to withdraw himself from the -trammels of state, and the conversation was carried on entirely as -if between two equals. His Majesty (_inter alia_) remarked: - -"I am the only sovereign now in Europe fit to fill a throne." - -Lord Brougham, somewhat staggered by this piece of egotism, muttered -out some trite compliments upon the great talent for government -which his royal entertainer had always displayed, &c., when the King -burst into a fit of laughter, and exclaimed: - -"No, no; _that_ isn't what I mean; but kings are at such a discount -in our days, that there is no knowing what may happen; and I am the -only monarch who has cleaned his own boots--and I can do it again!" - -His own reverses followed so soon after, that the "exiled Majesty of -France" must have remembered this conversation. - - * * * * * - -Mrs. P. was a dumpy little Englishwoman, with whom and her husband -we once performed the voyage of the Danube from Vienna to -Constantinople. She was essentially what the English call "a nice -person," and as adventurous a little body as ever undertook the -journey "from Cheapside to Cairo." She had left home a bride, to -winter at Naples, intending to return in the spring. But both she -and her husband had become so fascinated with travel, that they had -pushed on from Italy to Greece, and from Greece to Asia Minor. In -the latter country, they made the tour of the Seven Churches--a -pilgrimage in which it was our fortune afterward to follow them. -Upon one occasion, somewhere near Ephesus, they were fallen upon by -a lot of vagabonds, and Mr. P. got most unmercifully beaten. His -wife did not stop to calculate the damage, but whipping up her -horse, rode on some two miles further, where she awaited in safety -her discomfited lord. Upon the return of the warm season, our -friends had gone up to Ischl in the Tyrol, to spend the summer, and -when we had the pleasure of meeting them, they were "en route" for -Syria, the Desert, and Egypt. - -Mrs. P., although a most amiable woman, had a perverse prejudice -against America and the Americans. Among other things, she could not -be convinced that any thing like refinement among females could -possibly exist on this side of the Atlantic. We did our utmost to -dispel this very singular illusion, but we do not think that we ever -entirely succeeded. Upon one occasion, when we insisted upon her -giving us something more definite than mere general reasons for her -belief, she answered us in substance as follows: She had met, the -summer before, she said, at Ischl, a gentleman and his wife from New -York, who were posting in their own carriage, and traveling with all -the appendages of wealth. They were well-meaning people, she -declared, but shockingly coarse. That they were representatives of -the best class at home, she could not help assuming. Had she met -them in London or Paris, however, she said, she might have thought -them mere adventurers, come over for a ten days' trip. The lady, she -continued, used to say the most extraordinary things imaginable. -Upon one occasion, when they were walking together, they saw, coming -toward them, a gentleman of remarkably attenuated form. The -American, turning to her companion, declared that the man was so -thin, that if he were _to turn a quid of tobacco, from one cheek to -the other, he would lose his balance and fall over_. This was too -much for even our chivalry, and for the moment we surrendered at -discretion. - -Our traveling companion for the time was a young Oxonian, a -Lancashire man of family and fortune. T. C. was (good-naturedly, of -course,) almost as severe upon us Americans as was Mrs. P. One -rather chilly afternoon, he and ourselves were sitting over the fire -in the little cabin of the steamer smoking most delectable -"Latakea," when he requested us to pass him the _tongues_ (meaning -the tongs). - -"The what!" we exclaimed. - -"The tongues," he repeated. - -"Do you mean the tongs?" we asked. - -"The _tongs_! and do you call them _tongs_? Come, now, that is too -good," was his reply. - -"We _do_ call them the tongs, and we speak properly when we call -them so," we rejoined, a little nettled at his contemptuous tone; -"and, if you please, we will refer the matter for decision to Mrs. -P., but upon this condition only, that she shall be simply asked the -proper pronunciation of the word, without its being intimated to her -which of us is for _tongues_, and which for _tongs_." We accordingly -proceeded at once to submit the controversy to our fair arbitrator. -Our adversary was the spokesman, and he had hardly concluded when -Mrs. P. threw up her little fat hands, and exclaimed, as soon as the -laughter, which almost suffocated her, permitted her to do so, "Now, -you don't mean to say that you are barbarous enough to say _tongues_ -in America?" It was _our_ turn, then, to laugh, and we took -advantage of it. - - * * * * * - -A pilgrim from the back woods, who has just been awakened from a -Rip-Van-Winkleish existence of a quarter of a century by the -steam-whistle of the Erie Railroad, recently came to town to see the -sights--Barnum's anacondas and the monkeys at the Astor Place Opera -House included. Our friend, who is of a decidedly benevolent and -economical turn of mind, while walking up Broadway, hanging on our -arm, the day after his arrival, had his attention attracted to a -watering-cart which was ascending the street and spasmodically -sprinkling the pavement. Suddenly darting off from the wing of our -protection, our companion rushed after the man of Croton, at the -same time calling out to him at the top of his voice, "My friend! my -friend! your spout behind is leaking; and if you are not careful you -will lose all the water in your barrel!" - -He of the cart made no reply, but merely drawing down the lid of his -eye with his fore-finger, "went on his way rejoicing." - - * * * * * - -The following epigram was written upon a certain individual who has -rendered himself _notorious_, if not _famous_, in these parts. His -name we suppress, leaving it to the ingenuity of the reader to place -the cap upon whatever head he thinks that it will best fit: - - "'Tis said that Balaam had a beast, - The wonder of his time; - A stranger one, as strange at least, - The subject of my rhyme; - One twice as full of talk and gas, - And at the same time twice--the ass!" - - * * * * * - -Among the many good stories told of that ecclesiastical wag, Sydney -Smith, the following is one which we believe has never appeared in -print, and which we give upon the authority of a gentleman -representing himself to have been present at the occurrence. - -Mr. Smith had a son who, as is frequently the case with the -offshoots of clergymen (we suppose from a certain unexplained -antagonism in human nature)-- - - "----ne in virtue's ways did take delight, - But spent his days in riot most uncouth, - And vex'd with mirth the drowsy ear of night, - Ah, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight, - Sore given to revel and ungodly glee!" - -So _fast_ indeed was this young gentleman, that for several years he -was excluded from the parental domicile. At length, however, the -prodigal repented, and his father took him home upon his entering -into a solemn engagement to mend his ways and his manners. Shortly -after the reconciliation had taken place, Mr. Smith gave a -dinner-party, and one of his guests was Sumner, the present Bishop -of Winchester. Before dinner, the facetious clergyman took his son -aside, and endeavored to impress upon him the necessity of his -conducting himself with the utmost propriety in the distinguished -company to which he was about to be introduced. "Charles, my boy," -he said, "I intend placing you at table next to the bishop; and I -hope that you will make an effort to get up some conversation which -may prove interesting to his lordship." Charles promised faithfully -to do as his father requested. - -At the dinner the soup was swallowed with the usual gravity. In the -interval before the fish, hardly a word was spoken, and the silence -was becoming positively embarrassing, when all of a sudden, Charles -attracted the attention of all at table to himself, by asking the -dignitary upon his right if he would do him the favor to answer a -Scriptural question which had long puzzled him. Upon Doctor Sumner's -promising to give the best explanation in his power, the questioner, -with a quizzical expression of countenance, begged to be informed, -"_how long it took Nebuchadnezzar to get into condition after he -returned from grass?_" - -It is needless to say that a hearty laugh echoed this _professional -inquiry_ on every side, and how unanimously young Smith was voted a -genuine chip off the old block. - - * * * * * - -Miss C----, of the Fifth Avenue, was complaining the other day to -Mrs. F----, of Bond-street, that she could never go shopping without -taking cold, because the shops are kept open, and not closed like -the rooms of a house. Mrs. F---- thereupon dryly advised her friend -to confine her visits to Stewart's and Beck's to Sundays. - - * * * * * - -Some one says that the reason why so few borrowed books are ever -returned, is because it is so much easier to keep them than what is -in them. - - * * * * * - -The following matrimonial dialogue was accidentally overheard one -day last week on the piazza of the United States Hotel at Saratoga. - -_Wife._--"My dear, I can not, for the life of me, recollect where I -have put my pink bonnet." - -_Husband._--"Very likely. You have so many bonnets and so little -head!" - - * * * * * - -Mr. Andrew Jackson Allen, who was one of the prominent witnesses in -the recent Forrest Divorce case, is evidently an original. While -passing up the Bowery the other day, our editorial eye was attracted -by a curious sign on the east side of the street, and we crossed -over for the purpose of more conveniently reading it. It was as -follows: - - ALLEN - INTERNAL AND EXTERNAL - COSTUMER. - - FOOD FOR THE HUNGRY, DRINK FOR THE DRY, - REST FOR THE WEARY, AND TOGGERY FOR THE NAKED, - WHERE YOU CAN BLOOM OUT IF YOU PLEASE. - -And under this was a smaller sign upon which was inscribed the -following piece of Macawber-like advice: - - CHERISH HOPE - AND - TRUST TO FORTUNE. - -We take the liberty of expressing our desire that Mr. Allen may be -as fortunate (if he has not already been so) in having something -"turn up" in the end, as was the illustrious Wilkins of "hopeful" -and "trustful" memory. - - * * * * * - -Two of our lady friends were reading, the other day, Byron's -"Prisoner of Chillon." We intended to say that the one lady was -_pretending_ to read it aloud to the other lady. No woman ever has -been, now is, or ever will be, capable of listening without -interrupting. So that at the very commencement when the _reader_ -read the passage, - - "Nor grew it white - In a single night - As man's have grown from sudden fears--" - -the _readee_ interposed as follows: "_White?_ How odd, to be sure. -Well, I know nothing about men's hair; but there is our friend, Mrs. -G----, of Twelfth-street, the lady who has been just twenty-nine -years old for the last fifteen years; her husband died, you know, -last winter, at which misfortune her grief was so intense that her -hair turned completely _black_ within twenty-four hours after the -occurrence of that sad event." - -This bit of verbal annotation satisfied us, and we withdrew. - - * * * * * - -Epitaphs are notoriously hyperbolical. It is refreshing occasionally -to meet with one which is terse, business-like, and to the point. -Such an one any antiquarian may find, who has the patience to hunt -it out, upon the tombstone of a juvenile pilgrim father (in embryo) -somewhere in the New Haven graveyard. For fear that it _may_ not be -found in the first search, we give it from memory. - - "Since I so very soon was done for, - I wonder what I was begun for." - - - - -Literary Notices. - - -A new work, by GEORGE W. CURTIS (the Howadji of Oriental travel), -entitled _Lotus-Eating_, published by Harper and Brothers, is a -delightful reminiscence of Summer Rambles, describing some of the -most attractive points of American scenery, with impressions of life -at famous watering-places, and suggestive comparisons with -celebrated objects of interest in Europe. Dreamy, imaginative, -romantic, but reposing on a basis of the healthiest reality--tinged -with the richest colors of poetry, but full of shrewd observation -and mischievous humor--clothed in delicate and dainty felicities of -language--this volume is what its title indicates--the reverie of a -summer's pastime, and should be read in summer haunts, accompanied -with the music of the sea-shore or breezy hill-sides. Although -claiming no higher character than a pleasant book of light reading, -it will enhance the reputation of the author both at home and -abroad, as one of the most picturesque and original of American -writers. - -_A New Harmony and Exposition of the Gospels_, by JAMES STRONG. This -elaborate volume, intended for the popular illustration of the New -Testament, consists of a parallel and combined arrangement of the -Four Gospel Narratives, a continuous commentary with brief -additional notes, and a supplement containing several chronological -and topographical dissertations. The Harmony is constructed on a -novel plan, combining the methods of Newcome and Townsend, and -securing the conveniences of both, without the defects of either. A -continuous narrative is formed by the selection of a leading text, -while at the same time, the different narratives are preserved in -parallel columns, so that they may be examined and compared with -perfect facility. The Exposition of the text is given in the form of -a free translation of the original, in which the sense of the sacred -writers is expressed in modern phraseology, and slightly -paraphrased. This was the most delicate portion of the author's -task. The venerable simplicity of the inspired volume can seldom be -departed from, without a violation of good taste. As a general rule, -a strict adherence to the original language best preserves its -significance and beauty. This was the plan adopted by the -translators of the received version, and their admirable judgment in -this respect, is evinced by the fact that almost every modern -attempt to improve upon their labors has been a failure. No new -translations have even approached the place of the received one, in -the estimation either of the people or of scholars, while many, with -the best intentions, no doubt, on the part of their authors, present -only a painful caricature of the original. Mr. Strong has done well -in avoiding some of the most prominent faults of his predecessors. -He has generally succeeded in preserving the logical connection of -thought, which often appears in a clearer light in his paraphrase. -His explanation of passages alluding to ancient manners and customs -is highly satisfactory and valuable. But to our taste, he frequently -errs by the ambitious rhetorical language in which he has clothed -the discourses of the Great Teacher. The reverent simplicity of the -original is but poorly reproduced by the florid phrases of modern -oratory. In this way, the sacred impression produced by the -Evangelists is injured, a lower tone of feeling is substituted, and -the refined religious associations connected with their purity of -language is sacrificed to the intellectual clearness which is aimed -at by a more liberal use of rhetorical expressions than a severe and -just taste would warrant. With this exception, we regard the present -work as an important and valuable contribution to biblical -literature. It displays extensive research, various and sound -learning, and indefatigable patience. The numerous engravings with -which the volume is illustrated, are selected from the most -authentic sources, and are well adapted to throw light on the -principal localities alluded to in the text, as well as attractive -by their fine pictorial effect. We have no doubt that the labors of -the studious author will be welcomed by his fellow students of the -sacred writings, by preachers of the Gospel, and by Sunday School -teachers, no less than by the great mass of private Christians of -every persuasion, who can not consult his volume without -satisfaction and advantage. (Published by Lane and Scott.) - -A valuable manual of ecclesiastical statistics is furnished by FOX -and HOYT'S _Quadrennial Register of the Methodist Episcopal Church_, -of which the first Number has been recently published by Case, -Tiffany, and Co., Hartford. It is intended to exhibit the condition, -economy, institutions, and resources of the Methodist Episcopal -Church in this country, in a form adapted to popular use and general -reference. Among the contents of this Number, we find a complete -Report of the General Conference for 1852, a copious Church -Directory, an Abstract of the Discipline of the Church, a list of -the Seminaries of Learning and their officers, and a general view of -the various religious denominations in this country. The work -evinces a great deal of research, and the compilers have evidently -spared no pains to give it the utmost fullness of detail as well as -accuracy of statement. It does credit both to their judgment and -diligence. To the clergy of the Methodist Church it will prove an -indispensable companion in their journeys and labors. Nor is it -confined in its interest to that persuasion of Christians. Whoever -has occasion to consult an ecclesiastical directory, will find this -volume replete with useful information, arranged in a very -convenient method, and worthy of implicit reliance for its general -correctness. - -A new edition of _The Mother at Home_, by JOHN S. C. ABBOTT, with -copious additions and numerous engravings, is published by Harper -and Brothers. The favor with which this work has been universally -received by the religious public renders any exposition of its -merits a superfluous task. - -We have received the second volume of Lippincott, Grambo & Co.'s -elegant and convenient edition of _The Waverley Novels_, containing -_The Antiquary_, _The Black Dwarf_, and _Old Mortality_. With the -Introduction and Notes by Sir Walter Scott, and the beautiful style -of typography in which it is issued, this edition leaves nothing to -be desired by the most fastidious book-fancier. - -Another work in the department of historical romance, by HENRY -WILLIAM HERBERT, has been issued by Redfield. It is entitled _The -Knights of England, France, and Scotland_, and consists of "Legends -of the Norman Conquerors," "Legends of the Crusaders," "Legends of -Feudal Days," and "Legends of Scotland." Mr. Herbert has a quick -and accurate eye for the picturesque features of the romantic Past; -he pursues the study of history with the soul of the poet; and -skillfully availing himself of the most striking traditions and -incidents, has produced a series of fascinating portraitures. -Whoever would obtain a vivid idea of the social and domestic traits -of France and Great Britain in the olden time, should not fail to -read the life-like descriptions of this volume. - -_Marco Paul's Voyages and Travels_, by JACOB ABBOTT (published by -Harper and Brothers), is another series for juvenile reading from -the prolific pen of the writer, who, in his peculiar department of -composition, stands without a rival. It is Mr. Abbott's forte to -describe familiar scenes in a manner which attracts and charms every -variety of taste. He produces this effect by his remarkable keenness -of observation, the facility with which he detects the relations and -analogies of common things, his unpretending naturalness of -illustration, and his command of the racy, home-bred, idiomatic -language of daily life, never descending, however, to slang or -vulgarity. The series now issued describes the adventures of Marco -Paul in New York, on the Erie Canal, in Maine, in Vermont, in -Boston, and at the Springfield Armory. It is emphatically an -American work. No American child can read it without delight and -instruction. But it will not be confined to the juvenile library. -Presenting a vivid commentary on American society, manners, scenery, -and institutions, it has a powerful charm for readers of all ages. -It will do much to increase the great popularity of Mr. Abbott as an -instructor of the people. - -Among the valuable educational works of the past month, we notice -WOODBURY'S _Shorter Course with the German Language_, presenting the -main features of the author's larger work on a reduced scale. -(Published by Leavitt and Allen.)--KIDDLE'S _Manual of Astronomy_, -an excellent practical treatise on the elementary principles of the -science, with copious Exercises on the Use of the Globes (published -by Newman and Ivison),--and RUSSELL'S _University Speaker_, -containing an admirable selection of pieces for declamation and -recitation. (published by J. Munroe and Co.) - -_Summer Gleanings_, is the title of a book for the season by Rev. -JOHN TODD, consisting of sketches and incidents of a pastor's -vacation, adventures of forest life, legends of American history, -and tales of domestic experience. A right pleasant book it is, and -"good for the use of edifying" withal. Lively description, touching -pathos, playful humor, and useful reflection, are combined in its -pages in a manner to stimulate and reward attention. Every where it -displays a keen and vigorous mind, a genuine love of rural scenes, a -habit of acute observation, and an irrepressible taste for gayety -and good-humor, which the author wisely deems compatible with the -prevailing religious tone of his work. Among the best pieces, to our -thinking, are "The Poor Student," "The Doctor's Third Patient," and -"The Young Lamb," though all will well repay perusal. (Northampton: -Hopkins, Bridgman and Co.) - -The concluding volume of _The History of the United States_, by -RICHARD HILDRETH, is issued by Harper and Brothers, comprising the -period from the commencement of the Tenth Congress, in 1807, to the -close of the Sixteenth, in 1821. This period, including the whole of -Madison's administration, with a portion of that of Jefferson and of -Monroe, is one of the most eventful in American history, and -sustains a close relation to the existing politics of the country. -No one can expect an absolute impartiality in the historian of such -a recent epoch. Mr. Hildreth's narrative is undoubtedly colored, to -a certain degree, by his political convictions and preferences, -which, as we have seen, in the last volume, are in favor of the old -Federal party; but, he may justly challenge the merit of diligent -research in the collection of facts, and acute judgment in the -comparison and sifting of testimony, and a prevailing fairness in -the description of events. He never suffers the feelings of a -partisan to prejudice the thoroughness of his investigations; but -always remains clear, calm, philosophical, vigilant, and -imperturbable. His condensation of the debates in Congress, on -several leading points of dispute, exhibits the peculiarities of the -respective debaters in a lucid manner, and will prove of great value -for political reference. His notices of Josiah Quincy, John Quincy -Adams, Madison, Monroe, and Henry Clay, are among the topics on -which there will be wide differences of opinion; but they can not -fail to attract attention. The style of Mr. Hildreth, in the present -volume, preserves the characteristics, which we have remarked in -noticing the previous volumes. Occasionally careless, it is always -vigorous, concise, and transparent. He never indulges in any license -of the imagination, never makes a display of his skill in fine -writing, and never suffers you to mistake his meaning. Too uniform -and severe for the romance of history, it is an admirable vehicle -for the exhibition of facts, and for this reason, we believe that -Mr. Hildreth's work will prove an excellent introduction to the -study of American history. - -We congratulate the admirers of FITZ-GREENE HALLECK--and what reader -of American poetry is not his admirer--on a new edition of his -_Poetical Works_, recently issued by Redfield, containing the old -familiar and cherished pieces, with some extracts from a hitherto -unpublished poem. The fame of Halleck is identified with the -literature of his country. The least voluminous of her great poets, -few have won a more beautiful, or a more permanent reputation--a -more authentic claim to the sacred title of poet. Combining a -profuse wealth of fancy with a strong and keen intellect, he tempers -the passages in which he most freely indulges in a sweet and tender -pathos, with an elastic vigor of thought, and dries the tears which -he tempts forth, by sudden flashes of gayety, making him one of the -most uniformly piquant of modern poets. His expressions of sentiment -never fall languidly; he opens the fountains of the heart with the -master-touch of genius; his humor is as gracious and refined as it -is racy; and, abounding in local allusions, he gives such a point -and edge to their satire, that they outlive the occasions of their -application, and may be read with as much delight at the present -time as when the parties and persons whom they commemorate were in -full bloom. The terseness of Mr. Halleck's language is in admirable -harmony with his vivacity of thought and richness of fancy, and in -this respect presents a most valuable object of study for young -poets. - -_Mysteries; or, Glimpses of the Supernatural_, by C. W. ELLIOTT. -(Published by Harper and Brothers.) This is an original work, -treating of certain manifestations on the "Night-Side of Nature," in -a critico-historical tone, rather than in either a dogmatic or a -skeptical spirit. "The Salem Witchcraft," "The Cock-Lane Ghost," -"The Rochester Knockings," "The Stratford Mysteries," are some of -the weird topics on which it discourses, if not lucidly, yet -genially and quaintly. The author has evidently felt a "vocation" to -gather all the facts that have yet come to light on these odd -hallucinations, and he sets them forth with a certain grave naïveté -and mock Carlylese eloquence, which give a readable character to his -volume, in spite of the repulsiveness of its themes. Of his discreet -non-committalism we have a good specimen in the close of the chapter -on the "The Stratford Mysteries," of which the Rev. Dr. Phelps is -the chief hierophant. "Here the case must rest; we would not -willingly charge upon any one deliberate exaggeration or falsehood, -nor would any fair-minded person decide that what seems novel and -surprising is therefore false. Every sane person will appeal to the -great laws of God ever present in history and in his own -consciousness, and by these he will try the spirits, whether they be -of God or of man. The great jury of the public opinion will decide -this thing also; we have much of the evidence before us. The burden -of proof, however, rests with Dr. Phelps himself. Fortunately he is -a man of character, property, and position, and he chooses to stand -where he does; no man will hinder him if none heed him. Many -believe, but may be thankful for any help to their unbelief. Many -more will be strongly disposed to exclaim when they shall have read -through this mass of evidence--'It began with nothing, it has ended -with nothing.' _Ex nihil, nihil fit!_" - - * * * * * - -A _perfect_ and liberal scheme has been matured, for the publication -of a complete edition of the _Church Historians of England_, from -Bede to Foxe. The plan is worthy of support, and a large number of -subscribers have already enrolled their names. The terms of -publication are moderate, and the projectors give the best -guarantees of good faith. - - * * * * * - -Among recent English reprints worthy of notice are _Papers on -Literary and Philosophical Subjects_, by PATRICK C. MACDOUGALL, -Professor of Moral Philosophy in New College, Edinburgh. They are -collected from various periodicals, and appear to be published at -present with a view to the author's candidateship for the Ethical -chair in the University of Edinburgh. The Essays on Sir James -Mackintosh, Jonathan Edwards, and Dr. Chalmers display high literary -taste as well as philosophical talent. - - * * * * * - -MR. KINGSLEY, the author of _Alton Locke_, _Yeast_, and other works, -has published _Sermons on National Subjects_, which are marked by -the originality of thought and force of utterance which characterize -all this author's writings. Some of the sermons are very much above -the reach of village audiences to which they were addressed, and in -type will find a more fitting circle of intelligent admirers. There -is much, however, throughout the volume suited to instruct the minds -and improve the hearts of the humblest hearers, while the principles -brought out in regard to national duties and responsibilities, -rewards and punishments, are worthy of the attention of all -thoughtful men. - - * * * * * - -A new English translation of the _Republic of Plato_, with an -introduction, analysis, and notes, by JOHN LLEWELLYN DAVIES, M.A., -and DAVID JAMES VAUGHAN, M.A., Fellows of Trinity College, -Cambridge, is a valuable contribution to the study of classic -literature. The translation is done in a scholar-like way, and in -the analysis and introduction the editors show that they enter into -the spirit of their author as well as understand the letter of his -work, which is more than can be said of the greater number of -University translations. The text of the Zurich edition of 1847 has -been generally followed, and the German translation of Schneider -has evidently afforded guidance in the rendering of various -passages. - - * * * * * - -The Life of DAVID MACBETH MOIR, by THOMAS AIRD, says the London -Critic, is every way worthy of Mr. Aird's powers. It is written in a -calm, dignified, yet rich and poetical style. It is an offering to -the memory of dear, delightful "Delta," equally valuable from the -tenderness which dictated it, and from the intrinsic worth of the -gift. Aird and "Delta" were intimate friends. They had many -qualities in common. Both were distinguished by genuine simplicity -and sincerity of character, by a deep love for nature, for poetry, -and for "puir auld Scotland;" and by unobtrusive, heart-felt piety. -"Delta" had not equal power and originality of genius with his -friend; but his vein was more varied, clearer, smoother, and more -popular. There was, in another respect, a special fitness in Aird -becoming "Delta's" biographer. He was with him when he was attacked -by his last illness. He watched his dying bed, received his last -blessing, and last sigh. And religiously has he discharged the -office thus sadly devolved on him. - - * * * * * - -The fourth and last volume of _The Life of Chalmers_, by DR. HANNA, -is principally devoted to the connection of Chalmers with the Free -Church movement. _The Athenæum_ says: "Altogether, Dr. Hanna is to -be congratulated on the manner in which he has fulfilled the -important task on which he has now for several years been engaged. -Dr. Chalmers is a man whose life and character may well engage many -writers; but no one possessed such materials as Dr. Hanna for -writing a biography so full and detailed as was in this case -demanded. The four volumes which he has laid before the public are -not only an ample discharge of his special obligations as regards -his splendid subject, but also a much needed example of the manner -in which biographies of this kind, combining original narrative with -extracts from writings and correspondence, ought to be written." - - * * * * * - -A meeting of literary men has been held at Lansdowne House, for the -purpose of raising a fund for erecting a monument to the late Sir -James Mackintosh. The proposal for a monument was moved by Mr. T. B. -Macaulay, seconded by Lord Mahon. Mr. Hallam moved the appointment -of a committee, which was seconded by Lord Broughton, Lord Lansdowne -agreeing to act as chairman, and Sir R. H. Inglis as secretary. We -are glad to see literary men of all political parties uniting in -this tribute of honor to one of the greatest and best men of whom -his country could boast. - - * * * * * - -At the sixty-third anniversary of the Royal Literary Fund, Lord -Campbell presided effectively; and, after stating that he owed his -success in law to the fostering aid of his labors in literature, he -held out hopes that he may yet live to produce a work which shall -give him a better title to a name in literature than he has yet -earned. Pleasant speeches were made by Justice Talfourd, Mr. -Monckton Milnes, Chevalier Bunsen, Mr. Abbott Lawrence, and -especially by Mr. Thackeray, who improved the event of the coming -year of the society's existence--that Mr. Disraeli, M.P., is to be -chairman of the anniversary of 1853. The funds of the past year had -been £600 more than in any former year. - - * * * * * - -WILLIAM MACCALL in _The People_, gives the following graphic account -of his first interview with John Stirling. "Sometime in March, -1841, I was traveling by coach from Bristol to Devonport. I had for -companion part of the way a tall, thin gentleman, evidently in bad -health, but with a cheerful, gallant look which repelled pity. We -soon got into conversation. I was much impressed by his brilliant -and dashing speech, so much like a rapid succession of impetuous -cavalry charges; but I was still more impressed by his frankness, -his friendliness, his manliness. A sort of heroic geniality seemed -to hang on his very garments. We talked about German literature; -then about Carlyle. I said that the only attempt at an honest and -generous appreciation of Carlyle's genius was a recent article in -_The Westminster Review_. My companion replied, 'I wrote that -article. My name is John Sterling.' We seemed to feel a warmer -interest in each other from that moment; and, by quick instinct, we -saw that we were brothers in God's Universe, though we might never -be brought very near each other in brotherhood on earth. Sterling -left me at Exeter, and a few days after my arrival at Devonport I -received a letter, which leavens my being with new life, every time -I read it, by its singular tenderness and elevation." - - * * * * * - -The English literary journals are always suggestive, often amusing, -and sometimes not a little "verdant," as the Yankees say, in their -notices of American books. We subjoin a few of their criticisms on -recent popular works. Of _Queechy_, by ELIZABETH WETHERELL, the -_Literary Gazette_ discourses as follows: "The authoress of -'Queechy' has every quality of a good writer save one. Good feeling, -good taste, fancy, liveliness, shrewd observation of character, love -of nature, and considerable skill in the management of a story--all -these she possesses. But she has yet to learn how much brevity is -the soul of wit. Surely she must live in some most quiet nook of -'the wide, wide world,' and the greater part of her American readers -must have much of the old Dutch patience and the primitive leisure -of the days of Rip Van Winkle. Doubtless the book will have admirers -as ardent in the parlors of Boston as in the farm-houses of the far -West, who will make no complaints of prolixity, and will wish the -book longer even than it is. There is a large circle in this country -also to whom it will be faultless. The good people who take for gold -whatever glitters on the shelves of their favorite booksellers, will -be delighted with a work far superior to the dreary volumes of -commonplace which are prepared for the use of what is called 'the -religious public.' But we fear that those to whom such a book would -be the most profitable will deem 'Queechy' somewhat tiresome. The -story is too much drawn out, and many of the dialogues and -descriptions would be wonderfully improved by condensation." - - * * * * * - -The _Athenæum_ has a decent notice of CURTIS'S _Howadji in Syria_, -which by the by, has got metamorphosed into _The Wanderer in Syria_, -in the London edition. - -"It is about a year since we noticed a book of Eastern travel called -'Nile Notes'--evidently by a new writer, and evincing his possession -of various gifts and graces--warmth of imagination, power of poetic -coloring, and a quick perception of the ludicrous in character and -in incident. We assumed that an author of so much promise would be -heard of again in the literary arena; and accordingly he is now -before us as 'The Wanderer in Syria,' and has further announced a -third work under the suggestive title of 'Lotus-Eating.' 'The -Wanderer' is a continuation of the author's travels--and is divided -between the Desert, Jerusalem, and Damascus. It is in the same style -of poetic reverie and sentimental scene-painting as 'Nile -Notes,'--but it shows that Mr. Curtis has more than one string to -his harp. The characteristic of his former volume was a low, sad -monotone--the music of the Memnon, in harmony with the changeless -sunshine and stagnant life of Egypt--with the silence of its sacred -river and the sepulchral grandeur of its pyramids and buried cities. -'The Wanderer,' on the contrary, is never melancholy. There is in -him a prevailing sense of repose, but the spirit breathes easily, -and the languid hour is followed by bracing winds from Lebanon. -There is the same warm sunshine,--but the gorgeous colors and -infinite varieties of Eastern life are presented with greater -vivacity and grace. - -"Mr. CURTIS'S fault is that of Ovid--an over-lusciousness of -style--too great a fondness for color. He cloys the appetite with -sweetness. His aim as a writer should be to obtain a greater depth -and variety of manner--more of contrast in his figures. He is rich -in natural gifts, and time and study will probably develop in him -what is yet wanting of artistic skill and taste. - -"Of Mr. CURTIS'S latest work, entitled '_Lotus-Eating; a Summer -Book_,' the _Literary Gazette_ says: - -"A very cheerful and amusing, but always sensible and intelligent -companion is Mr. CURTIS. Whether on the Nile or the Hudson, on the -Broadway of New York or the Grand Canal of Venice, we have one whose -remarks are worth listening to. Not very original in his thoughts, -nor very deep in his feelings, we yet read with pleasant assent the -record of almost every thing that he thinks and feels. This new -summer book is a rough journal of a ramble in the States, but every -chapter is full of reminiscences of the old European world, and an -agreeable medley he makes of his remarks on scenery, and history, -and literature, and mankind. Mr. CURTIS is one of the most -cosmopolitan writers that America has yet produced. This light -volume is fittingly called a summer book, just such as will be read -with pleasure on the deck of a steamer, or under the cliffs of some -of our modern Baiæ. It may also teach thoughtless tourists how to -reflect on scenes through which they travel." - - * * * * * - -The question whether the honor of the authorship of the "Imitation -of Jesus Christ," a work held in the highest esteem in the Roman -Catholic church, and which has been translated into almost every -living language, belongs to John Gersen or Gesson, supposed to have -been an abbot of the order of Saint Benedict, at the beginning of -the fourteenth century, or to Thomas à Kempis, monk of the order of -Regular Canons of the monastery of Mount Saint Agnes, has given rise -to an immense deal of controversy among Catholic ecclesiastical -writers, and has set the two venerable orders of Benedictines and -Regular Canons terribly by the ears. It has just, however, been set -at rest, by the discovery of manuscripts by the Bishop of Bruges, in -the Library at Brussels, proving beyond all doubt, to his mind, that -Thomas à Kempis really was the author, and not, as the partisans of -Gersen assert, merely the copyist. The Bishop of Munster has also, -singular to relate, recently discovered old manuscripts which lead -him to the same conclusion. The manuscript of Gersen, on which his -advocates principally relied to prove that he was the author, must -therefore henceforth be considered only as a copy; it is in the -public library at Valenciennes. - -The last two numbers of the "_Leipzig Grenzboten_" contain, among -some half-dozen articles of special German interest, papers on -Görgey's Vindication, on Longfellow, and Margaret Fuller Ossoli, and -on the department of northern antiquities in the new museum at -Berlin. The German critic considers Professor Longfellow's poetry as -a cross between the "Lakers" and Shelley. Longfellow's novels remind -him of Goethe and Jean Paul Richter, and in some instances of -Hoffmann. The "Golden Legend" is of course a frantic imitation of -Goethe's "Faust." Margaret Fuller, too, is represented as an -emanation from the German mind. - - * * * * * - -We learn from the "_Vienna Gazette_" that Dr. Moritz Wagner, the -renowned naturalist and member of the Vienna Academy of Sciences, -has set out on a journey across the continent of America to New -Orleans, Panama, Columbia, and Peru. Dr. Wagner, accompanied by Dr. -Charles Scherzer, who has undertaken to edit the literary portion of -the description of his travels, is expected to devote the next three -years to this expedition, and great are the hopes of the Vienna -papers as to its results. - - * * * * * - -The "_Presse_" of Vienna states that Prince Metternich possesses an -amulet which Lord Byron formerly wore round his neck. This amulet, -the inscriptions of which have been recently translated by the -celebrated Orientalist, von Hammer-Purgstall, contains a treaty -entered into "between Solomon and a she-devil," in virtue of which -no harm could happen to the person who should wear the talisman. -This treaty is written half in Turkish and half in Arabic. It -contains besides, prayers of Adam, Noah, Job, Jonah, and Abraham. -The first person who wore the amulet was Ibrahim, the son of -Mustapha, in 1763. Solomon is spoken of in the Koran as the ruler of -men and of devils. - - * * * * * - -The University of Berlin has celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of -the nomination to the degree of Doctor of M. Lichtenstein, the -celebrated naturalist, who, since the foundation of the university, -in 1810, has occupied the chair of zoology. Three busts of M. -Lichtenstein were inaugurated--one in the grand gallery of the -University, one in the Zoological Museum, and the third in the -Zoological Garden of Berlin. Baron Von Humboldt delivered a speech -to the professors and students, in which he detailed at great length -the scientific labors of M. Lichtenstein. Some days before the -ceremony, M. Lichtenstein, who is remarkable for his modesty, left -Berlin for Trieste, from whence he was to proceed to Alexandria. - - * * * * * - -Görgey's _Memoirs of the Hungarian Campaign_ have been confiscated, -and forbidden throughout Austria. Exceptions, however, are made in -favor of individuals. - - * * * * * - -This year, 1852, the Royal Academy of Sweden has caused its annual -medal to be struck to the memory of the celebrated Swedenborg, one -of its first members. The medal, which has already been distributed -to the associates, has, on the obverse, the head of Swedenborg, -with, at the top, the name, EMANUEL SWEDENBORG; and underneath, -_Nat. 1688. Den. 1772._ And on the reverse, a man in a garment -reaching to the feet, with eyes unbandaged, standing before the -temple of Isis, at the base of which the goddess is seen. Above is -the inscription: _Tantoque exsultat alumno_; and below: _Miro -naturæ investigatori socio quond. æstimatiss. Acad. reg. Scient. -Soec. MDCCCLII_. - - * * * * * - -In Sweden during the year 1851 there were 1060 books published, and -113 journals. Of the books, 182 were theological, 56 political, 123 -legal, 80 historical, 55 politico-economical and technical, 45 -educational, 40 philological, 38 medical, 31 mathematical, 22 -physical, 18 geographical, 3 æsthetical, and 3 philosophical. -Fiction and Belles-Lettres have 259; but they are mostly -translations from English, French, and German. Of these details we -are tempted to say, remarks the _Leader_, what Jean Paul's -hero says of the lists of _Errata_ he has been so many years -collecting--"Quintus Fixlein declared there were profound -conclusions to be drawn from these _Errata_; and he advised the -reader to draw them!" - - * * * * * - -Another eminent and honorable name is added to the list of victims -to the present barbarian Government of France. M. Barthélemy St. -Hilaire has refused to take the oath of allegiance--and he will -accordingly be deprived of the chair which he has long filled with -so much ability at the Collège de France. The sacrifice which M. St. -Hilaire has made to principle is the more to be honored, since he -has no private fortune, and has reached a time of life when it is -hard to begin the world anew. But the loss of his well-earned means -of subsistence is, we know, a light evil in his eyes compared to the -loss of a sphere of activity which he regarded as eminently useful -and honorable, and which he had acquired by twenty-seven years of -laborious devotion to learning and philosophy. - - * * * * * - -Among the few French books worthy of notice, says the _Leader_, let -us not forget the fourth volume of Saint Beuve's charming _Causeries -du Lundi_, just issued. The volume opens with an account of -Mirabeau's unpublished dialogues with Sophie, and some delicate -remarks by SAINTE BEUVE, in the way of commentary. There are also -admirable papers on Buffon, Madame de Scudery, M. de Bonald, Pierre -Dupont, Saint Evremont et Ninon, Duc de Lauzun, &c. Although he -becomes rather tiresome if you read much at a time, Sainte Beuve is -the best _article_ writer (in our Macaulay sense) France possesses. -With varied and extensive knowledge, a light, glancing, sensitive -mind, and a style of great _finesse_, though somewhat spoiled by -affectation, he contrives to throw a new interest round the oldest -topics; he is, moreover, an excellent critic. _Les Causeries du -Lundi_ is by far the best of his works. - - * * * * * - -Dramatic literature is lucrative in France. The statement of -finances laid before the Dramatic Society shows, that during the -years 1851-52, sums paid for pieces amount to 917,531 francs (upward -of £36,000). It would be difficult to show that English dramatists -have received as many hundreds. The sources of these payments are -thus indicated. Theatres of Paris, 705,363 francs; the provincial -theatres, 195,450 francs (or nearly eight thousand pounds; whereas -the English provinces return about eight hundred pounds a -year!)--and suburban theatres, 16,717 francs. To these details we -may add the general receipts of all the theatres in Paris during the -year--viz., six millions seven hundred and seventy-one thousand -francs, or £270,840. - - - - -Comicalities, Original and Selected. - - -[Illustration: MR. JOHN BULL'S IDEAS ON THE MUSQUITO QUESTION. - -YOUNG LADIES (_both at once_).--"Why, Mr. Bull! how terribly you -have been bitten by the Musquitoes!" - -MR. BULL (_a fresh importation_).--"I can't hunderstand 'ow it -'appened. I did hevery thing I could think of to keep them hoff. I -'ad my window hopen and a light burning hall night in my -hapartment!"] - - * * * * * - -STARVATION FOR THE DELICATE. - -That exquisite young officer, CAPTAIN GANDAW, was reading a -newspaper, when his brilliant eye lighted on the following passage -in a letter which had been written to the journal by MR. MECHI, on -the subject of "Irrigation." - - "I may be thought rather speculative when I anticipate that - within a century from this period, the sewage from our cities - and towns will follow the lines of our lines of railway, in - gigantic arterial tubes, from which diverging veins will convey - to the eager and distant farmer the very essence of the meat - and bread which he once produced at so much cost." - -"Fancy," remarked the gallant Captain, "the sewage of towns and -cities being the essence of owa bwead and meat--and of beeaw too, of -cawse, as beeaw is made from gwain! How vewy disgasting! MR. MECHI -expects that his ideas will be thought wathaw speculative.--He -flatters himself. They will only be consida'd vewy dawty. The wetch! -I shall be obliged to abjaw bwead, and confine myself to Iwish -potatoes--which are the simple productions of the awth--and avoid -all animal food but game and fish. And when fish and game are not in -season, I shall be unda the necessity of westwicting my appetite to - - "A scwip with hawbs and fwuits supplied, - And wataw fwom the spwing." - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: YOUNG NEW YORK HARD UP. - -TENDER MOTHER.--"A hundred Dollars! why, what can you want a hundred -dollars so soon for?" - -YOUNG NEW YORK.--"Why, Mother, I'm deucedly hard up. I'm almost out -of Cologne and Cigars. Besides, the fellows are going to run me for -President of the St. Nicholas Club, and I must pony up my dues, and -stand the Champagne."] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: A VICTIM OF THE TENDER PASSION. - -YOUNG LADY.--"Now then, what is it that you wish to say to me that -so nearly concerns your happiness?" - -ENAMORED JUVENILE.--"Why, I love you to the verge of distraction, -and can't be happy without you! Say, dearest, only say that you will -be mine!"] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: A STRIKING EXPRESSION. - -ROGUY.--"See that girl looking at me, Poguy?" - -POGUY.--"Don't I? Why, she can't keep her eyes off you." - -ROGUY (_poking Poguy in the waistcoat_).--"What women care for, my -boy, isn't Features, but Expression!"] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: SCENE IN A FASHIONABLE LADIES' GROGGERY. - -YOUNG LADY "couldn't take any thing--only a Pine-apple Ice"--but the -ice once broken, she makes such havoc upon pies, tongue, Roman -punches, tarts, Champagne, and sundry other potables and -comestibles, as to produce a very perceptible feeling in the -Funds.] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: RATHER A BAD LOOK-OUT. - -YOUNG SISTER.--"Oh, Mamma! I wish I could go to a party." - -MAMMA.--"Don't be foolish. I've told you a hundred times that you -can not go out until Flora is married. So do not allude to the -subject again, I beg. It's utterly out of the question."] - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: THE ATTENTIVE HUSBAND IN AUGUST. - -EDWARD.--"There, Dearest, do you feel refreshed?" - -ANGELINA.--"Yes, my Love. A little more upon the left cheek, if you -please. That's much nicer than fanning one's self. Now a little -higher, on my forehead."] - - - - -Fashions for Summer. - - -[Illustration: FIGURES 1 AND 2.--BRIDE'S TOILET AND WALKING DRESS.] - -FIG. 1.--BRIDE'S TOILET.--Hair in bands very much puffed. Back hair -tied rather low; the wreath of white iris flowers, with foliage. -Behind this, and rather on one side, is the crown of orange flowers -that holds the vail, which is placed very backward, and is of plain -tulle, with a single hem. Dress of taffeta, with _bayadères_, or, -rather, velvet, with rows of velvet flowers, appearing like terry -velvet. The body, almost high behind, opens very low in front, and -is trimmed with a double plain _berthe_, that follows its cut. The -waist is lengthened in front, but not pointed. The bouquet decorates -the bottom of the body, and spreads in the form of a fan. The sleeve -pagoda-shaped, half-wide, and plain at top, terminated by two -trimmings worked like the edge of the _berthes_; a wide lace -under-sleeve covers the arm. The habit shirt is square at the top, -composed of lace, the upper row raised at the edge and four or five -other rows below. - -FIG. 2.--WALKING DRESS.--Bonnet of taffeta and blond. The brim, -high, narrow, and sitting close to the chin, is of taffeta, gathered -from the bottom of the crown to the edge; on the sides of the crown -an ornament is placed, cut rather round at the ends, and consisting -of three rows of taffeta _bouillonnes_, fastened together by a -cross-piece of taffeta. The crown is not deep, falls back, and has a -soft top. The curtain, of taffeta, cut cross-wise, is not gathered -in the seam. The blond that covers the lower part is gathered, and -ends in vandykes that hang below the curtain. A like blond is sewed -full on the cross-piece that borders the ornament, and the points -also reaching beyond the edge are fastened to those of the other -blond, so that the edge of the brim is seen through them. Toward the -bottom the blond above separates from that below, and sits full near -the edge of the ornament. A blond forming a _fanchon_ on the -_calotte_ is laid also under the other edge of the ornament. Lastly -the curtain itself is covered with blond. Inside are white roses, -mixed with bows of ribbon. Dress of taffeta. Body high, buttoning -straight up in front. Two trimmings are put up the side of the body. -These trimmings, made of bands resembling the narrow flounces, get -narrower toward the bottom. They are pinked at the edges, and -shaded. The sleeve is plain, and terminated by two trimmings, pinked -and shaded. The skirt has five flounces five inches wide, then a -sixth of eight, pinked and shaded. - -[Illustration: FIGURE 3.--BONNET.] - -FIG. 3.--DRAWN BONNET, of taffeta and blond; the brim, which is four -inches wide, is of taffeta doubled, that is, the inside and outside -are of one piece. It has several gathers. The side of crown, three -inches and a quarter wide, is of the same material, puffed at the -sides for about an inch, and there are also fourteen ribs in the -whole circuit. The top of crown is soft; a roll along the edge of -the crown. The ornaments consist of small rolls of taffeta, to which -are sewed two rows of blond three-quarters of an inch wide. These -same rolls ornament the brim, being placed on the edge, and inside -as well as outside. There are seventeen of these ornaments on the -brim, with an inch and a half of interval between them. The curtain -is trimmed in the same manner, and has ten of them. The top of crown -has five rolls, trimmed with blond. The inside is ornamented with -roses, brown foliage, and bouclettes of narrow blue ribbons mixing -with the flowers. - -[Illustration: FIGURE 4.--BONNET.] - -FIG. 4.--DRAWN BONNET of white tulle and straw-colored taffeta, -edged with a fringed _guipure_ and bouquets of Parma violets. The -taffeta trimming is disposed inside and outside the brim, in -vandykes, the points of which are nearly three inches apart. In each -space between them is a bouquet of Parma violets. The points of the -_fanchon_ lie upon the crown. - -[Illustration: FIGURE 5.--BONNET.] - -FIG. 5.--DRAWN BONNET, of tulle, blond, taffeta, and straw -trimmings, with flowers of straw and crape. The edge of the brim is -cut in fourteen scollops. The inside is puffed tulle, mixed with -blond. The scollops of the edge are continued all over the bonnet, -and are alternately tulle and white taffeta, with a straw edging. - - * * * * * - -For morning and home costume, _organdie_ muslins will be in great -favor, the bodies made in the loose jacket style, and worn either -with lace or silk waist coats. Silks, with designs woven in them for -each part of the dress, are still worn; those woven with plaided -stripe, _à-la robe_, are very stylish. - -White bodies will be worn with colored skirts they will be -beautifully embroidered, and will have a very _distinguée_ -appearance. - -Dress bodies are worn open; they have lappets or small _basquines_: -for all light materials, such as _organdie_, _tarlatane_, _barège_, -&c., the skirts will have flounces. In striped and figured silks, -the skirts are generally preferred without trimming, as it destroys -the effect and beauty of the pattern. Black lace mantillas and -shawls will receive distinguished favor; those of Chantilly lace are -very elegant. Scarf mantelets are worn low on the shoulders. - -A novelty in the form of summer mantelets has just been introduced -in Paris, where it has met with pre-eminent favor. It is called the -_mantelet echarpe_, or scarf mantelet; and it combines, as its name -implies, the effect of the scarf and mantelet. It may be made in -black or colored silk, and is frequently trimmed simply with braid -or embroidery. Sometimes the trimming consists of velvet or -_passementerie_, and sometimes of fringe and lace. - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - -Words surrounded by _ are italicized. - -Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent -spellings have been kept, including variation in: -- use of accent (e.g. "Léonard" and "Leonard" in p. 413-414); -- use of hyphen (e.g. "archway" and "arch-way"); -- capitalisation (e.g. "Vice-president" and "Vice-President"). - -Pg 356, word "upon" removed from sentence "...attack upon [upon] Mr. -Dutton's purse..." - -Pg 378, sentence "(TO BE CONTINUED.)" added to the end of article. - -Pg 386, word "of" added to sentence "...the wish of the son..." - -Pg 416, word "is" removed from sentence "Here [is] is a very amusing -picture..." - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. -XXVII, August 1852, Vol. V, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY, AUGUST 1852 *** - -***** This file should be named 43368-8.txt or 43368-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/3/6/43368/ - -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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