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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..231bc24 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53957 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53957) diff --git a/old/53957-0.txt b/old/53957-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9225379..0000000 --- a/old/53957-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6972 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April -1849, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April 1849 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - J. R. Patterson - J. B. Taylor - -Release Date: January 13, 2017 [EBook #53957] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, APRIL 1849 *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - - - - - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - VOL. XXXIV. April, 1849. No. 4. - - - Table of Contents - - The Poet Lí - The Naval Officer - Victory and Defeat - To Mother - On a Diamond Ring - The Recluse. No. I. - Rome - The Missionary, Sunlight - Thermopylæ - Lost Treasures - The Brother’s Temptation - The Unsepulchred Relics - Reminiscences of a Reader - The Gipsy Queen - The Brother’s Lament - Sonnet to Machiavelli - The Darsies - The Unmasked - Mormon Temple, Nauvoo - Rose Winters - The Zopilotes - History of the Costume of Men - The Beautiful of Earth - Wild-Birds of America - Jenny Lind - Storm-Lines - Review of New Books - Editor’s Table - Adieu, My Native Land - - Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook. - - - - -[Illustration: Anaïs Toudouze LE FOLLET _Robes de M^{me.}_ Bara Bréjard, -_r. Laffitte, 5—Coiffures de_ Hamelin, _pass du Saumon, 21_. _Fleurs -de_ Chagon ainé, _r. Richelieu, 81—Dentelles de_ Violard, _r. Choiseul -2^{bis}_ 8, Argyll Place, Londres. Graham’s Magazine ] - - - - -[Illustration: D. Bydgoszcz, pinx. A.L. Dick - -THE BRIDGE & CHURCH OF S^{T}. ISAAC.] - - - - - GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE. - - * * * * * - - VOL. XXXIV. PHILADELPHIA, April, 1849. NO. 4. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE POET LI. - - - A FRAGMENT FROM THE CHINESE. - - -BY MRS. CAROLINE. H. BUTLER, AUTHOR OF “RECOLLECTIONS OF CHINA,” “MAID OF - CHE-KI-ANG,” ETC. - - - PART I. - - Do not draw upon you a person’s enmity, for enmity is never - appeased—injury returns upon him who injures—and sharp words - recoil against him who says them. - - _Chinese Proverb._ - -On the green and flowery banks of the beautiful Lake Tai-hoo, whose -surface bears a thousand isles, resting like emeralds amid translucent -pearl, dwelt Whanki the mother of Lí. _The mother of Lí!_ Ah happy -distinction—ah envied title! For where, far or near, was the name could -rank with Lí on the scroll of learning—receiving even in childhood the -title of the “Exiled Immortal,” from his skill in classic and historical -lore! - -Moreover, he was of a most beautiful countenance, while the antelope -that fed among the hills was not more swift of foot. Who like Lí could -draw such music from the seven silken strings of the Kin! or when with -graceful touch his fingers swept the lute, adding thereto the -well-skilled melody of his voice, youths and maidens opened their ears -to listen, for wonderful was the ravishing harmony. - -Yet although the gods of learning smiled upon this youthful disciple of -Confucius, poverty came also with her iron hand, and although she could -not crush the active mind of Lí, with a strong grip, she held him back -from testing his skill with the ambitious _literati_, both old and -young, who annually flocked to the capital to present their themes -before the examiners. For even in those days as the present, money was -required to purchase the smiles of these severe judges. They must read -with _golden_ spectacles—or wo to the unhappy youth who, buoyant with -hope and—_empty pockets_, comes before them! With what contempt is his -essay cast aside, not worth the reading! - -Sorely vexed, therefore, was poor Lí—and what wonder—to know that he -might safely cope with any candidate in the “Scientific Halls,” yet dare -not for the lack of _sycee_ (silver) enter their gates, lest disgrace -might fall upon him. - -Yet Lí was of a merry heart—and, as all the world knows, there is no -better panacea for the ills of fortune than the spirit of cheerfulness. -Thus, although poverty barred the way to promotion, it could not -materially affect his happiness—no more than the passing wind which for -a moment ruffled the surface of the lake, yet had no power to move its -depths. - -Now it happened that one day taking his nets Lí went down to the lake, -and as he cast them within the waters, not knowing any one was near, he -broke forth into a merry song, which sent its glad burthen far off to -the lips of mocking Echo, like Ariel, seeming to “ride on the curled -clouds.” Now it also chanced, that within a grove of the graceful -bamboo, which skirted the path down which Lí had passed on his way, -walked the great Mandarin Hok-wan. - -“_Hi!_ by the head of Confucius the fellow sings well!” he exclaimed, as -the song met his ear, (for, as we have said, Lí had a voice of rare -melody,) and forthwith issuing from his concealment, Hok-wan seated -himself upon the bank and entered into conversation with the young -fisherman. - -If the mere melody of the voice had so charmed the mandarin, how much -more was he captivated by the wit and learning of the youth, who, thus -poorly appareled, and humbly employed, seemed to share wisdom with the -gods! Hok-wan stroked his eye-brows in astonishment, and then bidding Lí -leave his nets, he bore him off as a rare prize to his own house, where -he that day feasted a numerous company. - -First conducting Lí to an inner apartment, he presented him with a -magnificent robe richly embroidered, together with every article -necessary to complete the toilet of a person of distinction, and when -thus appareled, introduced him into the presence of his guests. And -truly Lí walked in among them with all the stateliness and hauteur of a -man who feels that he is conferring an honor, instead of being honored, -as no doubt Lí should have considered himself, in such an august -assemblage of grave mandarins. With what an air he seated himself at the -sumptuously loaded table! where, according to Chinese custom of the -higher classes, the various dishes of meats, soups, fish, preserves, -etc., were all nearly hidden by large bouquets of beautiful flowers, and -pyramids of green leaves. - -And now no sooner had Hok-wan delivered with all customary formality the -speech of welcome, and drained to the health of his guests the tiny -goblet of crystal, embossed with gold, than rising to his feet, and -joining his hands before his breast, in token of respect to his host, Lí -called a servant, and bidding him take a part from all the good things -spread before him, said: - -“Carry these to the dwelling of Whanki, the mother of Lí. Say to her -that as the sands on the lake shore, countless are the blessings of the -gods, who have this day smiled upon her son. Bid her eat—for although -from hunger he should gnaw his flesh, and from thirst drink his blood, -yet not one morsel of this banquet shall pass the lips of Lí unless his -aged mother be also sustained by the same delicacies.” - -At hearing which, all the mandarins, and Hok-wan himself, loudly -expressed their admiration. Such is the esteem which the Chinese -entertain for filial piety. - -This duty discharged, Lí attacked the dainties before him like a hungry -soldier, yet seasoning all he said and did with so much wit and humor, -that the guests laid down their chop-sticks and listened with wonder. -With the wine, Li grew still more merry—his wit cut like hail-stones -wheresoe’er it lighted, and at his jovial songs the grave dignitaries -forgetting their rank, (somewhat washed away by copious draughts of -_sam-shu_,[1]) snapped their fingers, wagged their shorn heads, and even -rising from the table embraced him familiarly. At length, when after an -interval of a few hours their hilarity was somewhat abated, during which -the guests walked in the beautiful gardens, or reclining upon luxuriant -cushions, regaled themselves with their pipes, or in masticating their -favorite betel-nut, Lí made bare his bosom before them, and to their -astonishment they found it was only a needy scholar whose praises they -had been shouting. - -_A needy scholar!_ - -How firmly they clutched their fobs, lest a _candareen_[2] might jump -into the pocket of the needy scholar. But of advice they were as profuse -as grass-hoppers in August. - -“Go to the capital—go to Kiang-fu,” (Nankin the ancient capital of the -empire,) “thou wilt perplex the learned—thou wilt bewilder the -ignorant!” said one. - -“_Hi!_ this fellow Lí will yet stand with honor before the emperor,” -cried another. - -“Appear boldly in the ‘Scientific Halls’ before the Examiners,” said a -third, “and never fear but thy name shall be cried at midnight from the -highest tower in the city,[3] as the successful Lí, with whom no other -candidate can compete!” - -“When the wind blows over the fields does not the grass bend before it!” -said Hok-wan. “When the great Ho speaks will not inferiors obey! the -learned academician Ho is my brother—to him then you shall go—one word -from him, and even the judges themselves shall cry your name.” - -“Ivory does not come from a rat’s mouth, or gold from brass clippings,” -thought Lí, as he listened to these remarks—“a few candareens now would -be better for me than all this fine talk—truly I must be a fool not to -know all this stuff before. Yet by the sacred manes of my ancestors, I -_will_ go to the capital, and that, too, ere another sun ripens the -rice-fields—furnished with a letter to the illustrious Ho, I may dare -admittance.” - -Giddy with wine, and with the excitement of high hopes for the future, -at a late hour Lí was borne in a sumptuous palankeen to the humble -dwelling of Whanki. - -The poor old soul at first knew not the gay gallant who stood before -her, so much had the gift-robes of the mandarin changed his appearance. - -“_Heigh-yah!_ but, Lí, thou art as fine as a magpie,” quoth she, raising -her head from the pan of charcoal, over which she seemed to be simmering -something in a small dish—“_Heigh_—and now I look at you again, I see -you have drank of that cursed _sam-shu_—forever abhorred be the name of -I-tih![4] with all thy wit dost thou not know the wise saying of -Mencius—‘_Like a crane among hens is a man of parts among fools_.’ (It -may be inferred, I think, that the good old Whanki was something of a -scold.) And while thou hast been guzzling, see what I have prepared for -thee—what had _I_ to do with birds-nest soup, and with shark’s fins, -and with pigeon’s eggs from the table of Hok-wan! My poor Lí will be too -modest to eat with the great company, I said to myself, and I will not -eat them, but warm them up to comfort him when he comes back—look, here -they are,” (lifting the dish from the fire) “and yet thou comest home -like a well-fed, stupid swine!” - -“Now tu-h, mother,” answered Lí, “if thy son has been drinking with -fools, they wore fine feathers—and now embrace me, for I am going to -the capital.” - -“Lí, thou art drunk—go to bed—the capital indeed! Ah cursed, cursed -I-tih!” exclaimed the old woman. - -But when at length Lí convinced her that he was neither drunk nor crazy, -but in reality about to start for Nankin, as a candidate for honors in -the Scientific Halls, and with a letter to the great Ho in his pouch, -Whanki knocked her head reverently before the shrine of the household -gods in token of gratitude. - -The remainder of the night was passed in preparations for the journey, -and just as the golden ripples of the lake danced in the rays of the -rising sun, Lí tenderly embraced his aged parent, and set forth on foot -for Nankin, more than a hundred miles distant. - -“Ah, the blessed bug,” quoth the old woman, gazing after him so long as -she could catch a glimpse of his large bamboo hat, “he will not want for -rice any day—no _sycee_ has he in his pockets, but such a tongue in his -head, as will bring him food and honors.” - -Whanki was right. In every hamlet he passed through—in every cottage by -the wayside, Lí found a shelter and a welcome—the good people -considering themselves amply repaid for their hospitality if the young -stranger would but touch the strings of the _pipa_, or recite to them -odes from the Shoo-king. - -In this manner he reached the capital, and crossing the marble bridge -over the great canal, upon the eastern side, entered the city at the -Gate of Extensive Peace. Going into the first barber’s shop which -offered, Lí carefully plucked _out_ his beard, (hear this, ye exquisites -of modern days!) shaved his head anew to the crown, and plaited his long -black hair with red ribbons. Then entering an adjoining tavern, he -exchanged his dusty, travel-worn garments for the rich dress presented -him by Hok-wan, which he had preserved with great care for the occasion, -and holding up his fan, to shield his eyes from the sun, stepped forth -into the busy streets, to look for the dwelling of the illustrious Ho. - -And next, within the Hall of Ceremony, in the elegant mansion of Ho, -behold Lí in the presence of the great man himself—for with the same -audacity which marked his behavior at the dinner of Hok-wan, had Lí -given the door-keeper a vermilion card, leading Ho to expect a visiter -of rank. Advancing three steps to meet him, Ho bows low to his stranger -guest—then with graceful ease Lí also advances three step, and bows -still lower—Ho again gravely steps forward and makes another -salutation—upon which Lí again does the same—with a still lower -bending of the body, Ho once more advances—whereupon Lí, nearly -touching the marble pavements with his forehead, steps forward yet -another three steps! By this time their united and solemn paces had -brought them near the couch upon which visiters are expected to repose -themselves. And here again the same formalities were gone through with, -as to who should first be seated thereon. But _being_ seated, Lí at once -burst forth with such a flow of wit and fancy, that Ho was completely -captivated ere he knew the name or business of the daring youth! - -Now this was a capital stroke of Lí. For the academician cared not so -much for any dignitary under the Emperor Supreme, as he did for a man of -learning, or even for one who could tickle the moments as they flew with -witty jests, provoking laughter. Ho saw at once that Lí not only -possessed this recommendation, but that his knowledge could also ring on -as many topics as there were bells to the Porcelain Tower. When, -therefore, he had perused the letter of Hok-wan, which, after securing -his ground, Lí put into his hand, and after having listened to the -history which the youth gave of his hard struggles, of his poverty, and -earnest desire to come before the judges on the day of examination, than -Ho, embracing him, bade him be of good cheer. - -“Now, by the sacred Budha!” he exclaimed, “learning like thine shall win -its crown without the aid of propitiatory gifts, save to the gods -themselves. Know, O Lí, that Yang and Kau, who enjoy the smiles of the -great emperor, are this year the examiners. To them shalt thou go, with -no favor but my name—humble as it is, it shall cause thine to be -enrolled among the _literati_ of the Imperial Academy!” - -No doubt Ho manifested great vanity in this, in so much as hinting that -his “_humble_” name could balance with gold in the scales of avarice! -Nevertheless Lí was delighted, and immediately set about piling up such -a cloud castle as spread over his whole heaven of glory. - -And now the day of examination approached, and confident of success, Lí -boldly presented himself for admission. - -Offering the memorial of Ho, which was to insure him, as he supposed, -the favor of the judges, he was much surprised to see those great men, -Yang and Kau, after turning over the missive with elevated noses, -expressive of their contempt, cast it from them with scorn. - -“_Heigh!_ the academician Ho thinks to cheat us with bubbles! He sends -us a scrawl devoid of meaning, to bespeak our favor for an upstart -without degree or title! Yes—_we will remember the name of Lí!_” Saying -which, they cast looks of bitter disdain upon the needy scholar. - -Then commenced the tedious formula of the examination. The candidates, -hundreds in number, were all obliged to undergo the strict search of the -officers in attendance. Their robes, pockets, shoes, and even their -nicely plaited queues were examined, to see they had not secreted some -essay or composition of some kind, which they might substitute for one -written on the spot without preparation, when the examiners should -command them. This done, they were all seated on long benches with their -paper and pencils ready for the trial—the doors and windows in the -meanwhile being closely barred and guarded, that no one from without -should have the power of smuggling any written paper into the hands of -the students. - -At a signal-gun the theme for composition was given out, and, like the -velvet feet of butterflies, the pencils of the rival candidates glided -smoothly and fleetly over the tinted paper. With perfect composure and -ease, Lí wrote off his essay in the most beautiful characters, without a -single erasure or omission—handling the subject with great skill and -judgment, and gave it into the hands of Yang. - -“_Heigh!_” said Yang, without giving himself even the trouble to glance -over it, but drawing his pencil derisively over the fair and beautiful -characters, “I remember the name of Lí! What stuff is here—why the -fellow is only fit to grind my ink!” - -“To grind your ink!” quoth Kau, “say rather he is only fit to lace my -buskins!” - -And laughing loudly at their own wit, the great judges Yang and Kau -turned their backs upon the unfortunate Lí. - -Overwhelmed with mortification and rage, he rushed to the lower end of -the hall, and there was obliged to remain until evening, as not until -then could the doors be thrown open to give egress to any one. Here he -had the vexation of listening to the jibes and sneers of those around -him, and of seeing others promoted to honors, who were as far inferior -to him as owls to eagles! What a bitter day for poor Lí! and when at -length dismissed with renewed contumely from the Scientific Halls, he -rushed into the presence of Ho, swearing loudly that he would one day -ride over the necks of the proud Yang and Kau, “and by the head of -Confucius when I do—_Yang shall grind my ink, and Kau lace up my -buskins!_” he cried with bitterness. - -Ho was terribly indignant at the treatment of his _protégé_, as well as -incensed for the insult he imagined his own dignity had received. But, -although he was himself high in favor with the emperor, Yang and Kau -stood still higher, therefore he dissembled his anger, lest his head -might pay the forfeit, should those two powerful courtiers incense the -emperor against him. - -When he found Lí preparing to return home, he embraced him kindly, and -bade him tarry yet another year in the capital. - -“In the end thou wilt surely succeed, O Lí. The next year the examiners -will not be the same, and thou may’st then be certain of success,” said -Ho. “Remain with me until the time comes round—thy days and nights -shall roll off bright and rosy as morning clouds—wine, wit, and music, -yes, and the smiles of women, shall make thee forget the insults thou -hast received.” - -But Lí remembered his aged mother, sitting solitary in her humble home -by the side of the lake, and his resolution strengthened. - -“Know, O Ho, that an old mother waits for Lí afar off. Summer and -harvest will come, but Whanki has no one to sow her rice, and desolation -will sit in her dwelling. The fish sport and gambol amid the waters of -the lake—Whanki has no strength to draw them forth, therefore hunger -and death will await her! What profit, O wise Ho, should I gain if my -aged parent suffered! Would not the gods curse the race of Lí!” - -“Noble youth, take this purse—it is heavy,” exclaimed Ho—“hasten to -relieve the necessities of thy mother—a happy mother in so dutiful a -son—then return without delay and await the examination. I promise -thee, thou shalt not this time lack a present for the greedy -judges—though, by Budha, I would like to give it them at the dagger’s -point!” - -Accordingly Lí bade farewell to his generous friend, promising to return -as speedily as possible. - ------ - -[1] A deleterious liquor distilled from rice. - -[2] A Chinese coin. - -[3] The custom of announcing the names of the successful candidates at -the examination. - -[4] The god of intoxicating liquors. - - - PART II. - - A man who has a tongue may go to Rome. - _Chin. Prov’b._ - -Within the “Tranquil Palace of Heaven,” Hwant-sung sat upon the Dragon’s -Throne, with all his court prostrate before him. - -There was evidently “something rotten in the state of Denmark,” for the -clouds which veiled the august features of the Celestial Monarch were -black as night—thunder might soon be expected, and low in the dust his -humble courtiers awaited the outpouring of his terrible wrath. - -Before his footstool knelt the Premier Yang, bearing in his hand an -official document inscribed with curious hieroglyphics. - -“By my ancestors,” exclaimed the emperor, with a wrathful look from one -to the other of his trembling courtiers, “a wise court is sustained by -the bounty of Hwant-sung! say rather a pack of idiots, asses, dolts, -fatted dogs! What! shall we become a jibe in the mouths of foreign -nations! Shall barbarian kings mock the court of Nankin! _Hi!_ Is there -not one then of my learned counsellors—not one of my renowned warriors -can decipher me this scroll! Tremble, then, ye hounds! Yang, I command -thee to make known to us the purport of the missive which the foreign -ambassadors have brought to our court.” - -At this order well might Yang turn pale—for there was no more meaning -to him in the characters on which his eyes were fixed, than in the slimy -trail which the green lizard draws upon the sand. Over and over he -turned it—now on this side, now on that—watched narrowly and jealously -meanwhile by all around—for when was one high in favor with princes -also the favorite with the mass! At length, nine times reverently -knocking his head before Hwant-sung, Yang said: - -“Let not the displeasure of Earth’s Glory, before whose frown the whole -world stands affrighted, annihilate his slave that the gods have not -granted him power to do the will of his majesty in this thing. He cannot -read.” - -Then did Hwant-sung call up one after another of those whose scholastic -lore was famed throughout the empire. In vain. Not one could understand -the mysterious scroll. At which, becoming exceeding wroth, Hwant-sung -swore that unless within three days his ministers could make known to -him the signification of the embassy, their _offices_ and _salaries_ -should all be taken from them—and if in six days they were still in -ignorance, their _death_ should release the empire from so many stupid -owls! - -Then did the academician Ho humbly present himself at the foot of the -throne. - -“Will the emperor deign to open the ears of graciousness while the -humblest of his slaves speaks? Know then, O mighty sovereign, there -arrived last night at my house a man in whom all knowledge seems to -centre. His mind, keen as the lightning, penetrates the most hidden -mysteries—there is no science, no art, which he hath not already -mastered. Command then that he appear before thee to make plain that -which doth perplex thy majesty’s servants.” - -Hwant-sung rejoiced greatly at this information, and bade Ho bring the -learned scholar at once into his presence. - -But when Ho, eager with joy, related to Lí the good fortune he had -secured him, that audacious youth positively refused compliance with the -commands of the emperor! offering as an excuse, that as he was but a -poor scholar, without title or degree, he dared not presume to appear -before so much majesty. - -With this answer then the unhappy Ho returned to the palace, not -doubting but the rage of Hwant-sung would vent itself not only upon Lí, -but also upon himself. - -Kneeling before the monarch, Ho exclaimed reverently— - -“Will your majesty once more graciously listen. At the last examination, -this man of whom I have spoken was turned from the Scientific Halls in -disgrace—his essay rejected by the Premier Yang and the General Kau. -Will it then please thee to bestow some favor upon Lí, that he may with -more propriety come into this august presence?” - -“It shall be done,” exclaimed the emperor. “We confer upon Lí the title -of Doctor of the first degree, together with the purple robe and yellow -girdle. Go bring him before us.” - -With this mark of royal patronage, Ho retraced his steps with all the -alacrity of a lover, and made known to Lí the gracious favors of the -emperor, supposing, doubtless, that the student would rejoice as one -long blind now suddenly restored to light, or as a famished man at a -feast. But lo! coolly putting on the robes of office, as if he had but -just cast them aside, with the air of a prince, Lí signified to the -great academician Ho his readiness now to obey the mandate of the -emperor. - -Entering the hall of audience with all the grace and ease of a man bred -in courts, Lí advanced to the throne, and after paying the customary -homage, rose to his feet and looked proudly around upon the assembly of -grave men and gallant courtiers. - -The knees of the Premier Yang smote each other, as he recognized the -youth he had treated with so much contumely now suddenly brought into -notice—and well did Kau now _remember the name of Lí_—and it seemed as -if hot pins tore his flesh, into such agitation did that name now throw -him. - -Hwant-sung received the new doctor with condescension, and placed in his -hand the document which he was required to make plain. - -But Lí, casting a meaning glance upon Yang and Kau, said: - -“Can an indifferent scholar like myself presume to know more than these -learned men! Know, O mighty emperor, thy servant was deemed unworthy of -favor by thy commissioners Yang and Kau—surely, then, they must be more -wise than Lí.” - -Charmed with the boldness of the youth, the emperor graciously smiled -upon him, and motioned the two mortified examiners to withdraw. - -Then standing erect, his head thrown back, yet in an attitude of -careless ease, Lí opened the important missive, and without even -glancing his eye over it to understand more fully its nature, read it -aloud from beginning to end, in a clear, melodious voice. - -It proved to be a demand from the king of Po-Hai, couched in the most -insulting language, requiring the emperor to restore a part of Corea, -consisting of no less than a hundred and eighty towns, and also -demanding tribute from the time of its “_usurpation_” (as the memorial -expressed it) by the Emperor of the Tang Dynasty. Thus, but for the -skill of Lí, the empire would have been plunged in irretrievable -disgrace through the ignorance of its ministers. - -The countenance of Hwant-sung grew black as midnight as he listened to -this insulting claim, and but for the bold remonstrance of Lí, he would -have ordered the bearers of the embassy to instant death. - -“May it please your majesty to summon the boorish ambassadors before -us,” cried Lí boldly, “I will myself confer with them, and teach them -how to respect the mighty Emperor Hwant-sung.” - -Immediately, therefore, the ambassadors were brought before Lí, who -conversed with them in their own language with the same haughty bearing -as if he himself were emperor, interpreting as he did so to the -indignant Hwant-sung. At length Lí dismissed them, saying: - -“To-morrow his sovereign majesty, to whom your prince is but an -earth-worm, will indite an answer to your insulting embassy. Retire—and -tremble as ye walk! Thank the gods that the gracious emperor deigns ye -to live.” - -The audience chamber rang with acclamation, as the ambassadors -obsequiously withdrew in compliance to the orders of Lí, and all the -courtiers pressed forward to compliment the young doctor—while the -emperor, embracing him, conferred upon him at once the rank of -academician, and ordered apartments to be prepared for him in the palace -of the Golden Bell. - -With continued graciousness, he also directed a sumptuous banquet to be -got in readiness, and at which all the learned men and wits of the court -were expected to appear. Wine was poured for the guests by beautiful -young girls of the “_golden lilies_”[5]—ravishing music swept around -them, while at intervals of the feast, the emperor sent from his own -apartments a choice theatrical corps for their entertainment. - -Now did it seem that all the trials of Lí were over, his poverty but a -dream long past, and that now upon the pinnacle to which his ambition -had pointed from early youth, he stood ready to hurl back in the teeth -of his enemies the disgrace which, only a few months before, they had -heaped upon the name of Lí. - -The feast wore on even into the night—the wine circulated freely, and -in the same breath the courtiers exalted the name of the emperor and of -the young academician. What wonder that under the attendance of such -charming cup-bearers Lí should have drank more freely than was -consistent with his new dignity! How from such hands could he resist the -tempting goblet! - -The result was, that when the next morning the emperor repaired to the -Hall of Audience to treat with the embassy from Po-Hai, the academician -Lí was not in attendance—nay, did not make his appearance until after -being twice summoned by royal mandate! - -The courtiers with whom Lí had feasted the night previous, shook their -heads and looked significant. The Premier Yang and the General Kau -resumed their usual boldness of demeanor, for no doubt this upstart, -this vagabond Lí, would find the anger of their Celestial Monarch more -than his head was worth—decapitation would certainly follow such -contempt of royalty! - -To be _twice_ summoned—what audacity! - -At length Li walked carelessly into the hall—his dress somewhat -disordered, and his feet thrust negligently into slippers. But for those -who were hoping his ruin, what rage to see the emperor not only extend -his own royal hand in signification that he would raise him from the -ground, but also condescend to inquire after his health! - -“I think, learned doctor, the wine was to thy fancy, yet methinks the -fumes are still troubling thee! Ere we proceed to our public duties I -would have thy wits clearer.” - -Saying which, Hwant-sung ordered a plate of hot-spiced fish-broth to be -brought from the royal kitchens, that its effects might dissipate the -evils of last night’s debauch. - -And when with unprecedented condescension their sovereign even took the -chop-sticks, and himself cooled it for the palate of Lí, amazement -almost turned them to marble. - -When his majesty deemed the senses of his new favorite sufficiently -restored, the ambassadors were summoned into the hall. - -Upon the top of the platform, near the foot of the “Dragon’s Throne,” -was placed, by the order of Hwant-sung, a cushion or divan of the -Imperial Yellow, embroidered with gold and silver, and upon a tablet -formed of mother-of-pearl, and richly set in a band of emeralds, was a -cake of perfumed ink—a sheet of flowery paper—a hair-pencil set in a -gold tube, together with a small _jade_ stone, with which to rub the -ink. - -Waving his hand condescendingly to Lí, the emperor spoke: “Ascend the -platform, learned doctor, and repose thyself upon the cushions at my -feet, while I indite to thee our answer to these slaves.” - -“May it please your majesty,” replied Lí, “my feet are not in proper -dress to approach so near the ‘Glory of the Earth.’ Will it please thee -to command new buskins to be brought thy servant, that he may with -decency ascend the platform.” - -This bold request was no sooner proffered than it was granted. And then, -with a significant glance to the spot where stood Yang and Kau, pale -with rage and envy, the audacious Lí again addressed the emperor: - -“The humblest of thy slaves would not be officious—but he has one more -request to lay at the feet of his gracious sovereign. At the examination -this year, thy servant was repulsed by Yang, and turned from the -Scientific Halls in disgrace by Kau! Will it therefore please thee to -command the Premier Yang to _grind my ink_, and the General Kau to _lace -my buskins_!” - -Never, perhaps, was an audience-chamber so insulted! Even the awe which, -in the presence of the Celestial Monarch, rendered the courtiers less -men than jackals, failed in this case to suppress a murmur of -indignation which passed from one end of the hall to the other. - -But Hwant-sung, well pleased to punish the injustice of his -commissioners, immediately ordered them both to approach and do the -bidding of Lí! - -To disobey was death. They wanted courage to die, therefore preferring -disgrace, they obsequiously advanced. Kneeling, _Kau laced the buskins -of Lí_, who then ascended the platform, and while reclining at his ease -upon the soft cushion at the feet of the emperor, Yang stood at his side -assiduously _rubbing his ink_! - -Thus did Lí accomplish his revenge, and triumph over his enemies! - -Taking the pencil, he now, with rapid and easy strokes, proceeded to -indite the answer, which the emperor vouchsafed to the Po-Hai embassy, -and while he did so, Hwant-sung bent over him in astonishment, beholding -the characters which he traced with so much rapidity to be identical -with those which had so perplexed his court. - -Then standing erect upon the right hand of the “Dragon’s Throne,” in -clear distinct tones, Lí read aloud the imperial answer—the ambassadors -trembling with fear as they listened. - -“And now return,” exclaimed Lí, “and teach your king that foxes may not -war with lions, nor the cuckoo steal into the eagle’s nest! He is like a -vexed grasshopper striving to combat the mighty chariot about to crush -him, or like a fly in the jaws of the dragon! When the mighty -Hwant-sung, at whose name fear sits in the hearts of all nations, shall -send a handful of men to seize upon the petty territory of Po-Hai, blood -shall flow a thousand _li_!”[6] - -Kneeling reverently before the throne, and knocking their heads in token -of submission, the ambassadors then withdrew to relate to their king -that the “Celestial Empire was upheld by an Immortal from the skies!” -who stood ever by the throne of the Dragon, and to whom all men did -reverence. - -From that day the star of Lí was in the ascendent, and for many years he -enjoyed the undivided confidence of the emperor, and attained a rank in -the scale of letters, which renders the name of Lí celebrated in Chinese -literature. Many volumes of his beautiful poems and other works are -still preserved in the Imperial Libraries. - ------ - -[5] Small feet. - -[6] Leagues. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE NAVAL OFFICER. - - - BY WM. F. LYNCH. - - - (_Continued from page 164._) - -Mr. Gillespie and his daughter had retired below when the sweeps were -gotten out, and had now returned to the deck. Unconscious of danger, -they looked admiringly upon the shining and beautiful scene. Nearly -abreast the island of Porto Rico, in full view, lay basking in the beams -of the setting sun, the dark, rich green of its luxuriant growth of -cane, here and there varied by groves of the cotton-tree, amid which -were seen clustering the settlements of the planters. Astern, but -farther distant, Cape Engano stretched far to seaward, while inland, -ridge over ridge, wooded to their summits, rose the picturesque -mountains of St. Domingo. The numerous vessels in sight, mostly running -before the wind, varying in size, in rig, and in the color of their -canvas, enlivened the view, while nearer, the frigate in her towering -proportions was borne majestically toward them. - -“Oh, Edward! what a glorious sight!” said the maiden to her lover, who -had stepped to her side, as she gained the deck. “Look, father! look at -that splendid ship, doesn’t she cleave the waters ‘like a thing of -life?’ But what is the matter, Edward? You are silent, and seem -dejected, do tell me?” - -“In a moment, dearest,” he whispered, as he left her to approach the -captain, who had beckoned to him. - -“Mr. Talbot,” said the last, “my little craft is in great peril, and -less than an hour must decide her fate. The Spaniard will not be silent -much longer, and I advise you to get the passengers below.” - -“I was about to propose it,” replied Talbot, and returning to Miss -Gillespie’s side, said, “summon your fortitude, Mary, the ship which you -admire so much, is a Spanish frigate, and is endeavoring to capture the -vessel we are in.” - -“Oh, how unfortunate! and will they harm us? Can they hurt you and -father and Frank? Good God! what is that?” and she shrieked as the ship -luffed to the wind, and fired a shot, which went plunging across the -bows of the schooner. - -“Come below, dearest! come quickly! Help me, Mr. Gillespie, for she has -nearly fainted.” - -The maiden and her father were conducted to the most secure place below, -when, resisting the entreaties of his mistress, Talbot returned to the -deck, which Frank had refused to leave. - -At the first report of the frigate’s gun, the captain had called out, -“Edge her away, quarter-master, keep her off a point; let the guns -alone,” he added, addressing some of the crew, “let them be, it would be -worse than useless to fire them—the ‘Bird’ must now trust to her wings -alone.” - -The little vessel was in fact at the very crisis of her fate. The last -shot had told that they were within reach of the guns of the enemy; they -felt that their only avenue of escape was through a gauntlet of fire, -and that the loss of a single spar would certainly insure their capture. -It seemed perfect madness for such a wee thing to abide the wrath of the -huge leviathan, panoplied in thunder, and possessing almost the power of -annihilation. But, in the forlorn and desperate hope of sustaining the -enemy’s fire for a few moments, without material injury her captain -steadily pursued his way, but cut his anchors from the bow, and threw -four of his guns overboard. If the wind had been light, the schooner’s -chance would have been a fair one; but the breeze instead of lulling, -seemed to freshen as the sun went down. As it was, however, there was a -bare possibility of escape, for already the little vessel, lightened of -so much weight, began to increase her velocity—still there was an -abiding, a stunning fear of being sunk or disabled by the broadside of -the frigate. The latter had already opened her fire, and near the chase, -the fierce, iron hail had fairly lashed the water into foam, but the -schooner was yet materially unharmed, when a voice more potent than that -of gunpowder, hushed the loud artillery. - -Unobserved by either, a light and fleecy speck, more like a wift of -smoke than a fragment of a cloud, had risen over the land, and swift as -a meteor shot across the sky. It was what sailors term a “white squall,” -and it had caught the chaser and the chased wholly unprepared. Almost -simultaneously it struck them both. The frigate's fore-mast and -main-topmast went by the board, and every sail that was set, was blown -into perfect shreds. The “Humming Bird,” light and resistless, felt the -blast but to succumb before it—she was whirled over and capsized in an -instant. A number of the crew, entangled in the sails and rigging were -immediately drowned. The remainder clambered to the upper-rail, to which -they clung with the tenacity that endangered life. In a paroxysm of -anguish, Talbot had thrown himself down the cabin-hatchway as he felt -the vessel going over, and at imminent hazard had rescued Miss -Gillespie, but her father and the servant-maid perished. Frank had been -saved by one of the seamen, who held him firmly with one hand, while -with the other he clung to the shrouds. - -As soon as the survivors were assured of their immediate safety, they -looked around to see if there were any hopes of being rescued from their -position before the night set in. The frigate had driven past them, and -under a single after-sail was hove-to, clearing her hull of the wreck. -To the westward, distinct in the reflected light of the sun, which had -descended, were several vessels again unfolding to the breeze the canvas -which they had wisely furled to the passing gust. Some of the larger -ones were again standing boldly out to seaward, while the others like -affrighted wild-fowl, were hovering toward the shore. They were all too -distant, and the air was fast becoming too obscure for them to see the -wreck, or the unfortunate beings who were perched upon it. - -On the first recovery from her swoon, the grief of Miss Gillespie for -the loss of her father was almost inconsolable. It required all the -endearment and entreaties of her lover and her brother to prevail on her -to struggle against the spasms which threatened her very existence. - -The survivors strove to cheer each other, but the indiscreet cry of one -that he saw the fin of a shark cleaving the surface of the water, led -them to fear that they were environed by yet greater peril. In about two -hours the moon arose, and her clear, chaste light silvered the crests of -the waves, as they curled to the now gentle breeze. She had risen scarce -more than her diameter, when the watchers on the wreck discovered two or -three dark objects which seemed to creep upon the water. Their hopes and -their fears were equally excited, but presently they heard the splash of -oars, and they knew them to be boats from the frigate. As eager now to -be taken as before to escape from capture, by shouts and cries they -attracted the notice of those who sought them. They were soon removed to -the frigate; the lady and her brother being led to the cabin, and the -remainder, including Talbot, promiscuously confined on the lower deck. - -Under jury-foremast and new main-topmast, the frigate was the next -morning standing under easy sail, along the southern side of St. -Domingo. - -Repeatedly but ineffectually Talbot had endeavored to convey a message -to Miss Gillespie, and spent the night in sleepless anxiety on her -account. He knew not into whose hands she had fallen, and whether her -youth and beauty might not, in the hands of unprincipled men, tempt to -ruffianly treatment. Her brother was with her, it was true, but although -spirited, he was young and feeble compared to the strong men around him. - -Early in the morning, Talbot had asked to see the officer of the watch. -He was told that he could not communicate with any one but through the -officer of the marine guard, who would not make the rounds for three or -four hours. Talbot impatiently waited for him, and it seemed an age -before he made his appearance. When he did so, and was told that Talbot -wished to speak to him, he superciliously asked, “Well, sir, what do you -want?” - -“I wish,” replied Talbot, “to communicate through you to the commander -of this ship, that I hold a commission as lieutenant in the navy of the -United States, and that with the family of Mr. Gillespie, I was a -passenger on board of the privateer.” - -“This is a singular tale,” remarked the other, incredulously; “have you -any proofs of your identity—where is your commission?” - -“I haven’t it; with all my baggage, it was, unhappily, lost in the -schooner.” - -“This seems incredible,” said the officer, “your dress, too, does not -indicate the position you claim.” - -“I am aware of it,” replied Talbot, “for I scrupulously avoided wearing -any part of my uniform, that in appearance even, I might not be classed -among the complement of that unfortunate vessel. But here is her -commander, who, as well as his crew, will bear testimony to what I say.” - -“Let them answer for themselves,” was the abrupt reply. “If they escape -being hung as pirates, they will fare well.” After a moment’s -hesitation, he added, “I will state what you say to Count Ureña, our -commander, although I do not myself believe it; but let me advise you -not to rely upon the evidence of these wretches,” pointing to the -prisoners, “if you have no other proof you will fare badly.” As he said -this, he turned upon his heel and walked away, Talbot with difficulty -restraining himself from throttling him for his coarse, unfeeling -rudeness. - -Again, hour after hour passed away in fruitless anxiety. Every step upon -the ladder which led from above, exciting a thrill of hope, only the -instant after to be crushed in bitter disappointment. At length, about 2 -P.M., an orderly, with a file of marines came to conduct him to the -commander. With alacrity he obeyed the summons, and when he reached the -gun-deck, from habits of association, he felt cheered at the sight of -the long lines of massive artillery, the stacks of muskets here and -there, surmounted with their bristling bayonets, and the bright sheen of -the sharpened cutlases. As the cabin-door was thrown open by the sentry -stationed there, he cast a quick and searching glance around the -apartment, in the hope of seeing his betrothed. She was not there, and -but for the guns projecting from either side, he could not have realized -that he stood in the cabin of a man-of-war, so rich was its furniture -and so gorgeous its decorations. Gracefully festooned across its entire -width, and partially concealing the white and highly polished -lattice-work of the after-cabin, was a deep curtain of crimson -embroidered and fringed with gold. On either side, in the recesses -between the guns, were magnificent couches canopied and covered with the -same material, intertwined with white. Between the forward and the after -gun, on each side, were collections of flowers and fragrant plants. A -large mirror in an arabesque frame, was inclined over a rose-wood -sideboard, laden with massive plate and a profusion of crystal. A richly -chased silver lamp was suspended over a table, the cover of which was of -white cloth, like the curtain, fringed with gold. Around were a few -rose-wood chairs, and from several cages were heard the cheerful and -melodious notes of canary-birds. The deck was covered with the finest -matting. On the couch, in the recess to the left, was seated a man of -middle age and rather delicate features, except the chin and under lip, -which were massive and sensual, and a peculiar glance of the eye, which -gave a sinister aspect to an otherwise singularly handsome countenance. -He was spare in figure, and to a casual observer, even as he sat, it was -perceptible that he stooped, and his whole appearance indicated a -frequent participant in the orgies of dissipation. Before him stood the -officer of marines, who had just made his official report. At a signal -from the latter, Talbot advanced toward the count, who said, “I -understand, sir, from the officer of the guard, that you declare -yourself to be a lieutenant in the navy of the United States, but that -you have no evidence to sustain you. How can you expect me to credit the -assertion of a stranger under such suspicious circumstances as you must -admit your present position to be?” - -“You have a lady on board, sir, my affianced bride, who, with her -brother, is here under the same circumstances with myself, they will -tell you that I am not an impostor.” - -“Your affianced bride,” said the count, not heeding what he had last -said, “you are then the friend for whom she has been so restless and -uneasy?” - -“I knew that she would be so,” replied Talbot; “may I ask now to see -her, that she may corroborate what I have said?” - -“Not so fast,” exclaimed the count, “that you have gained the affections -of the young lady is no proof of your being what you profess, indeed, -you may have won them under an assumed name and character.” - -“It ill becomes you, sir,” cried Talbot, highly incensed, “it ill -becomes you to insult a man who for the time being is in your power; but -I warn you that if I, or those with me, are unnecessarily detained or -harshly treated, you will be held to a severe accountability.” - -“And by whom, sir,” exclaimed the count, turning pale with rage, “by a -man who has no other vouchers to a most improbable tale, than a horde of -pirates, a mere boy, and a love-sick maiden?” - -“The proofs are sufficient, sir, for any impartial mind, but I see -plainly that you have some purpose in seeming to disbelieve them—what -that purpose is your conscience best can tell.” - -“What mean you, sir, by this insolence; but I know how to curb and to -punish it!” - -“Insolence! and punish!” contemptuously answered Talbot, “those are -words used by cowards when addressing slaves. I defy alike your malice -and your power. You may maltreat me, but a day of reckoning will surely -come. I demand to see Miss Gillespie and her brother,” he added, as his -ear caught the sound of stifled sobs in the after cabin. - -The count pulled a bell-rope by his hand, and at the summons, the sentry -who had admitted him, opened the door and looked in, while from another -door, the steward entered and stood obsequiously by his master. The -latter, pointing to the door, said, - -“Mr. Manuel, take out your prisoner and confine him apart from the rest; -sentry, let them pass.” - -Talbot hesitated a moment, and then said, “I am unarmed and helpless, -and it would therefore be madness to resist you—but, in the name of -humanity, I ask you, can you listen unmoved to the distress of the -unhappy lady within there; as a man, an officer, and a nobleman, I -appeal to you in her behalf. She has recently lost her father, as you -know, and, save myself, her young brother is now her only protector.” - -“She will be sufficiently protected, sir, without your -interference—take out the prisoner, Mr. Manuel.” - -The above conversation had taken place in Spanish, which Talbot spoke -fluently, but when he found that for some sinister purpose, he was not -to be permitted to see Miss Gillespie, he advanced toward the -lattice-work and called out in English, “Mary, dear Mary, be upon your -guard! Frank, do not leave your sister for a moment; I fear that she is -in the hands of a villain.” - -“That I will not,” cried the boy, who vainly tried to force the door, -while his sister sobbed convulsively. - -The count, who, although not understanding the language, comprehended -the import of the words, with a gesture of frantic impatience, motioned -the officer to lead his prisoner away. - -Talbot, satisfied that the danger was lessened by the timely warning he -had given, without resistance, submitted to be led from the apartment. - -When left alone, the count remained for some time in a thoughtful -attitude. “If I could but speak their horrid language,” he said, -soliloquizing with himself, “or if she understood mine, I should -certainly succeed, for as to this would-be bridegroom, I can easily get -rid of him, and of the brother also, if he prove intractable. Let me -see! can I trust Gonzalez? From the expression of his eye sometimes, as -well as from his never speaking of her, I fear that he knows all about -his unhappy sister; and yet I must trust him, or abandon all, for he is -the only interpreter we have. There is no help for it; I cannot give up -the game so freshly started—but I will be wary and watch him closely.” -He slightly touched the bell, “Send Gonzalez to me,” he said to the -attendant, who obeyed the summons. A few moments after, a young man of -23 or 24 years of age entered the apartment, and bowing to the count, -awaited his commands in silence. From his spare figure, he looked taller -than he really was. His hair and moustaches were glossy black, curling -in their rich luxuriance. His eye-brows, thick and bushy, formed one -continuous arch, and the eye beneath, black and lustrous, was soft and -subdued in its ordinary expression, but at times, in a single glance, -would convey a startling idea of latent but indomitable energy. His -features were almost femininely regular, and his voice musically clear -and sweet. The count’s fears were not without foundation; his secretary, -for such was the position of Gonzalez, knew his sister’s wrongs, and -like a true Spaniard, thirsted for an opportunity to revenge them. His -commander scanned him closely where he stood for some minutes, the young -man at first returning his gaze with a look neither too humble, nor yet -audacious, and then deferentially turned his eyes in another direction. - -“What is the matter, Gonzalez? You seem of late unusually taciturn and -moody.” - -“I think, señor, that my health is suffering from long confinement to -the ship. I need recreation on shore.” - -“What mean you by long confinement—were you not on shore repeatedly -last month in Havana?” - -“No, señor! If you will recollect, I applied several times to go, but on -each occasion you had important letters or despatches to write.” - -“Did you hear from home before we sailed?” and the count’s look became -intensely riveted upon him. - -The young man slightly colored, “I heard indirectly, señor, that all -were well.” - -“From whom?” - -“From a muleteer who resides in the adjoining village.” - -“Did he give you any particulars?” - -“None, señor, worth relating.” - -The count paused. He was dissatisfied, yet feared that by further -questioning he might excite the very suspicions he wished to repress. -Assuming a bland and conciliatory tone, he said, “I have been to blame, -Gonzalez, and will make amends. When we reach port, you shall have ample -opportunities to recruit on shore. Should you need funds, consider my -purse at your service.” - -“Thanks, señor! my salary is more than sufficient for all my wants.” - -“Well, should you be in need, remember my offer; but come nearer, I have -now something confidential to impart. You are aware that the lady -brought on board last night is now in the after-cabin.” - -“I am, señor.” - -“One of the prisoners, doubtless an impostor, assumes that she is his -betrothed. I wish you to see her and ascertain how she is affected -toward him.” - -“It is needless, señor. At the invitation of Lieutenant Flores, I -accompanied him in his boat last night, and in rescuing the prisoners -from the wreck, witnessed how tenderly that lady clung to the man you -speak of.” - -“It may have been the convulsiveness of fear!” - -“If so, señor, it would have subsided with the occasion that gave it -birth; but it continued to the last, and while she evinced for the lad -the solicitude of an elder sister, she seemed to regard the American as -her chosen and sole protector.” - -“How were they separated?” - -“I understood, señor, by your orders,” replied the youth with an air of -surprise. - -“I mean,” said the count, somewhat confused, “how did they bear it?” - -“He was at first disposed to resist, but a moment after submitted with -an air of stern resignation.” - -“And she?” - -“She at first seemed bewildered, and could not comprehend the purport of -the order; when she did so, she implored her lover, for such he must be, -not to desert her, but after he had whispered a few words to her, she -too submitted, and with such meek gentleness as moved the hardest hearts -to sympathy.” - -“Sympathy,” exclaimed the count, reddening; “where there is no real -distress, there can be no occasion for its exercise. In common humanity, -I am bound to protect her from the acts of an impostor.” There was a -slight twitch of the secretary’s upper lip, but he said nothing. - -“At all events, I wish you to converse with her, Gonzalez. Try if you -cannot reconcile her to a short separation from her lover, and assure -her that as soon as I am satisfied that he is what he represents -himself, he shall be free.” - -The secretary bowed in acquiescence, and the count rising, led the way -into the after-cabin. It was fit for the boudoir of a queen. A carpet of -the richest Persian dyes and softest texture was under foot. Except in -front, the whole apartment was lined with fawn-colored tapestries; the -windows framed into the after ports had party-colored curtains of fawn -and cherry colors. An ottoman and several chairs were covered with -embroidered damask corresponding to the tapestry; a small, richly-carved -book-case was filled with handsomely bound books. There was a pair of -globes upon stands, and a harp, a guitar, mirrors and candelabra, with a -few small but exquisite paintings completed the equipment of this cell -of a Sybarite. - -With disheveled hair, and eyes inflamed with weeping, in all the -abandonment of grief, Miss Gillespie lay with her head upon her -brother’s breast, who, as the door was opened, threw his arms around, as -if more perfectly to protect her. With a courteous air, and all the -finished breeding of an artificial gentleman, the count advanced and -paid his respects through the medium of the interpreter. “Had she -sustained no injury from the accident of the night before? Had she -recovered from her alarm? Had she slept well? Could he do any thing for -her?” - -The three first questions she answered in monosyllables. At the fourth, -she made an effort to speak, but maiden bashfulness overcame her, and -she looked imploringly to her brother. The youth construed her feelings -rightly, and said, - -“We wish, sir, to see our friend, Mr. Talbot, who was, with us, a -passenger in the schooner.” - -“At present it cannot be,” answered the count, “but when we reach -Havana, he will doubtless prove his character, and then you can be again -united, but,” addressing her, “so much beauty should not be marred by -untimely grief. A few days more and your friend will be restored to -liberty. Here I cannot make any distinction between him and the other -prisoners. Let me therefore entreat you, Miss, to dry up your tears, and -let a smile once more wreath itself upon your lovely cheek.” - -“Say to him,” asked Miss G., of the interpreter, “that I am in deep -affliction. Yesterday I lost my father, and now, when I am most -helpless, I am by his act,” (she looked toward the count) “separated -from the friend whom that father had chosen as my protector through -life. I am therefore in no mood to listen to compliments, which would be -ill-timed from any one, most of all from him.” - -The count stifled his vexation and said, “I beg pardon for this -intrusion. I will await a more seasonable time to express my sympathy -and make a proffer of my services;” so saying, he withdrew, desiring -Gonzalez to remain and gather the particulars of their history. - -An unprincipled man, in his sphere possessing almost unlimited power, he -felt himself baffled by an unarmed prisoner and a helpless maid. “Till -now,” he said to himself, “I thought Dolores beautiful, but her features -want the intellectual grace and harmony of this northern houri. At all -hazards, she must be mine. If all else fails, the drug must be resorted -to. It is certainly the speediest and I know not but that it is the -best; but I am neglecting my first precaution.” He rung the bell for the -steward, a dark, swarthy Italian, with the body of a man surmounted on -the legs of a dwarf. - -“Domingo,” said his master, “go into the secret passage and watch -Gonzalez, who is now with the lady. Note every thing that he does, and -try to gather the meaning of what he says.” - -The steward obeying, disappeared through a panel that opened with a -spring. - -In about half an hour, Gonzalez came forth from the inner cabin, and -stated what he had learned of the prisoners, which, as there was no -concealment, is precisely what is known to the reader. When he had -retired, at a peculiar signal from the count, the panel noiselessly flew -open, and the steward reappeared before his master. His account was any -thing but satisfactory, and the count’s brow was darkened with deep -mistrust, as he listened to the recital. - -About sunset, Miss Gillespie, aroused by some incentive, sent to ask if -her brother and herself might be permitted to walk on the upper deck. -Assent was most graciously given, and the count himself escorted her. -Finding that she would not converse, and that his presence was evidently -irksome to her, he smothered his chagrin, and after a few turns, left -the orphans to themselves. - -It was an hour and a scene fitted to captivate the eye and refresh the -soul; and such was its soothing influences, that Miss G. frequently -found her mind wandering from the contemplation of the perils which -environed her. The night previous, the ship, driven before the blast, -was whirled with resistless velocity along a bed of seething foam. Now, -the gentle wind borne from the land, wafted fragrance on its wing, and -the sea, slightly ruffled, seemed to enjoy the refreshing embrace of its -sister element; the ship, too, under a cloud of canvas, snow-white and -full distended, pressed majestically on, the spray, like fairy fret-work -curling and combing beneath the bow and the rippling wake sparkled in -the rays of the setting-sun. The gorgeous western sky was tinged with -the hues of crimson and gold; the south was a boundless expanse of blue, -the island of St. Domingo, lofty, picturesque and beautiful, bounded the -northern and eastern horizon. The land, but little cultivated, seemed -fertile in the extreme, and was covered with lofty and umbrageous trees, -the tangled and luxuriant undergrowth seeming so interlaced as even at -high noon to intercept the light of the sun. The near mountains were -covered to their very summits with verdure, not the tawny verdure of a -northern clime, but the brilliant green of the tropics, while the -loftier mountains wreathed their bald and craggy tops with the clouds -that floated in the distance. - -The sun had gone down and the moon was up: still Miss Gillespie paced -the deck with her brother. It was evident that she had some purpose in -view, and by those who watched her, she was observed to cast frequent -and furtive glances around. At length a figure that had been stealthily -gliding along under the shadow of the bulwarks to leeward, suddenly -stepped beside her, and whispered, “Lady, I have endeavored to see him, -but failed. Some time tonight I will surely succeed. In the meantime -there is but one resource. Take this powder, and when you go below, -dissolve it, and take a part yourself, giving the remainder to your -brother. If you would be safe, neither of you should sleep a wink -to-night. Be careful of what you eat or drink. But, hush! there is a -man’s head raised above the rail—he has been observing us. I must -away—but do not forget this.” He handed a small folded paper as he -spoke, and immediately disappeared. - -Miss Gillespie had brought a book on deck with her, and by occasionally -seeming to read it, had at first given a pretext for remaining. Into -this book she inserted the paper, and soon after turned to leave the -deck, when some one brushed rudely against her, and the book fell. The -person, who, in her confusion she did not recognize, instantly picked it -up, and in seeming eagerness to return it, let it fall a second time. -Frightened almost beside herself, Miss G. now snatched it up and hurried -below. Unfortunately, the paper was not to be found. So dreadful seemed -the fate before her, that with difficulty she restrained herself from -shrieking aloud. Frank cheered her all he could, although he had but a -faint conception of the danger. They determined to deny themselves food -and liquids of every description, hoping thereby to avoid the -administration of an opiate. Alas! they knew not the infernal arts of -the demon in human shape, who had them in his power. - -That evening, as was his wont once a week, the count supped with his -officers in the ward-room, and he remained until near midnight; but in -the meantime his diabolical agent had not been idle. - -About 11 o’clock Frank and his sister were sensible that they were -inhaling an aromatic and fragrant vapor. At first they enjoyed it; but -it soon occurred to them that they were fast becoming drowsy. With -desperate exertions they endeavored to force the doors, or to obtain -assistance by their loud and vociferous outcries. The breeze had -unfortunately freshened on deck, and there was much tramping and running -overhead, so that they were unheard, or if heard, unheeded. One would -suppose that this agitation and fear would have proved an antidote to -the insidious effects of the drug; but no! gently, imperceptibly, they -felt their systems relax; they soon began to wonder at their alarm; a -delicious langour enthralled them, and as volume after volume of the -scented vapor rolled into the apartment, they surrendered themselves to -its influence, and pressed in each other’s arms, were soon wrapped in a -profound and insensible sleep. - -About an hour before, Talbot, to whom the night previous had been a -sleepless one, although racked with anxiety, had fallen into a light and -fitful slumber, when he was instantly aroused by a hand being laid upon -his chest, and a voice whispering in his ear, “Do not speak, but follow; -imitate my motions as exactly as you can. For God’s sake be cautious, -you know not how much is at stake.” - -The speaker, who was lying beside him on the deck, then rolled over -toward the hatchway; but when the sentry turned in his round, he -remained perfectly still. This he repeated, slowly and cautiously; -Talbot followed his example, until they reached what sailor’s term the -combings of the main-hatch, i.e. the elevated pieces around it, to -prevent the water from running into the hold. He there waited for some -time until he saw the sentry loiter at the furthest end of his round, -when he quickly threw himself down the hatch, and crept on one side out -of sight. As soon as Talbot had done the same, he led the way among the -casks and barrels. When they had proceeded a little distance, he -whispered, “The master’s-mate of the hold, who is a fellow-townsman of -mine, had this passage opened for me to-day. Had he refused, and he -hesitated for a long time, that villain in the cabin would inevitably -succeed in his plans.” - -“What plans?” eagerly asked Talbot. “I know not who you are, or whither -you are leading me—explain.” - -“You will soon know me; but let it content you now that I lead you to -save your mistress. But that I feared the interference of that ruffian, -the steward, I would have gone alone.” - -“Lead on, then! lead quickly!” said Talbot, his fears strongly excited. - -They resumed their way, groping along in the dark, and taking every step -with the greatest caution. In a short while they distinguished the faint -light admitted from the deck above through the fore-hatch. As soon as -they had gained this opening, Gonzalez, for it was he, taking the -opportunity when the sentry was furthest off, and had his back toward -him, sprung quickly up, and blowing out the light in a lantern which -hung to an upright timber, immediately returned to Talbot’s side. As was -anticipated, the sentry, supposing the light to have been extinguished -by a flurry of wind, took the lantern down, and proceeded to the -main-hatch, to relight the lamp. As he did so, they both, unperceived, -succeeded in gaining first the gun and then the upper-deck. Then -separating, each one quietly and undetected reached the quarter-deck, -and again rejoining each other, they slipped through a port-hole to a -narrow platform outside, called the main-chains, and there, in intense -anxiety, concerted their future movements, for the most perilous part of -their enterprise was yet before them. - - - CHAPTER III. - -The convivial party in the ward-room had been broken up by a squall, and -with the other sea-officers, the count had repaired to the quarter-deck. -For a short time the wind blew with violence, and was succeeded by a -heavy fall of rain. In less than an hour there was a perfect calm, and -the sails flapped sluggishly against the masts as the ship moved with -the undulations of a light ground-swell. - -In the cabin, the solitary lamp, suspended from a beam, through the -gauze-like vapor shed its soft light upon the rich and costly furniture, -and revealed the forms of the sleepers, whose deep breathing alone -proclaimed their existence, so immovable was their position—so much -deprived did their bodies seem of the watchful guardianship of the -spirits within them. The faint and silvery light, the attenuated vapor, -the fragrant odors wafted from the flowers in front, the boy, with his -noble brow undimmed by sin or sorrow, the lovely maiden, one arm upon -her breast, and one clasped around her brother, formed an atmosphere and -a group in and around which angels might love to linger. But a serpent -had stealthily glided in, and the count, with maddening pulse and -gloating eye, looked upon his unconscious victim. Incapable of any -feeling but that of a hardened libertine, no thought of the dire ruin he -was about to inflict for one instant stayed his purpose. As the spider, -after weaving its web, contemplates the struggles of the entangled fly, -before clutching to devour it, so he stood, reveling in anticipation on -the sensual feast before him. At length he approached, he gently -touched, then breathed upon, and called them by their names, and then -more rudely shook them. As he anticipated, they neither heard nor heeded -him. The stillness was death-like and profound. He removed the boy from -the girl's embrace, and she lay resistless at his mercy. For an instant -longer he paused; he fondled her hand, he played with her tresses; he -stooped to kiss her moist and parted lip. - -The fiend-like purpose was frustrated: a crashing blow descended upon -his head, and he rolled over and fell senseless on the deck. With one -foot upon the prostrate form, and the massive bar again uplifted, Talbot -stood over him, while from the doorway Gonzales looked on. - -“Hold!” said the last, as Talbot was about to repeat the blow, “Hold! -another stroke may finish him, and that is a task reserved for me -alone.” He advanced as he spoke, and proceeded to examine the wound. “It -is a very severe contusion,” he added a moment after, “and if it had -fallen a little more direct, the blow would have been a fatal one. He is -now wholly insensible, and unless my skill in surgery fails me, he will -remain, for some days at least, in a perfect stupor. It is most -fortunate. We need not now attempt an escape, for no one can suspect us, -and before he recovers, we shall probably be in Havana. Let us place him -in his room and retire; the vile, pandering steward will not dare to -enter during the night, and in the morning, I will be hovering near. It -is useless, no human efforts can awake them now,” he added, as he saw -Talbot endeavoring to arouse the maiden: “but they are safe, and that -they may continue so, we must not lose a moment.” - -With a sigh, Talbot relinquished the hand of his mistress, which he had -clasped within his own, and, pressing his lips to her fair forehead, -turned to assist Gonzalez in removing the wounded man. They then effaced -all traces of their presence, and retired as they had come, through the -window of the quarter-gallery. - -The next morning the table in the forward cabin was spread for -breakfast; the steward, in passing to and fro, grinned leeringly as from -time to time he looked toward the after cabin. One of the midshipmen of -the watch came to report 8 o’clock. The steward tapped lightly at the -state-room door, but receiving no reply, and not presuming to disturb -his master, took it upon himself to report to the officers that the -count said “Very well”—the usual reply. By 9 o’clock, he began to be -uneasy, not that he apprehended any thing to have happened to his -master, but that the lady might awake before the count had left her -apartment. At the lattice-work, and to the key-hole of his master’s -door, he alternately placed his ear. At the last he thought that he -distinguished a deep and smothered breathing; at the first he could hear -no sound whatever. Satisfied that his master was in his state-room, he -felt more easy. - -At 10 o’clock, the wonted hour, the drum beat to quarters for -inspection. When the first lieutenant came to make his report, the -steward intimated that the count was indisposed. - -“Has he directed that he should not be disturbed?” asked the officer. - -The steward admitted that he had not. - -“Have you been summoned to him in the night?” - -“No, sir!” - -“Then I must make my report.” He advanced to the door and knocked, at -first gently, and then louder and more loudly still. There was no reply; -and the officer, turning the bolt, to the surprise of the steward, the -door yielded to his push, and flew open. (That their mode of entrance -might not be suspected, Gonzalez had unlocked it before retiring.) The -count was found with his wrapper on, lying in a profound stupor, the -blood clotted thickly over the wound he had received. The orphans were -buried in a sleep which the surgeon pronounced unnatural; and the -steward was suspected of having drugged them, and afterward attempted -the life of his master. This miserable wretch was thrown in irons as the -supposed murderer of the man in whose contemplated villainy he had been -a willing and a free participant. - -Light and baffling winds detained the frigate, and on the evening of the -fourth day after the incident above related, she had just cleared the -windward passage, and with Cape la Mole astern, was standing along the -northern shore of Cuba, for the port of Havana. The count had laid in a -comatose state since his accident, and his constant heavy breathing and -frequent moans, showed how much pressure there was upon the brain, and -how much he suffered. In the course of this day his respiration had -become more regular and less oppressive, and about 3 o’clock in the -afternoon, he awoke to consciousness and a sense of pain. By degrees his -recollection returned, and after making a few inquiries, to the surprise -of every one, he ordered the steward to be released, and again summoned -in attendance upon him. These two, the master, just rescued from the -grave, and the servant who would have found an ignominious one had his -master died, conferred for a long time together. After questioning his -steward closely, the count said, “I am satisfied, Domingo, that it was -not from your hand that I received the blow. I left you in the forward -cabin, you could only have entered on the starboard side, and in that -direction my head was turned, and I must have seen you. The blow was on -the other side—probably from some one secreted there. Were you at any -time absent from the cabin, after I went to the ward-room?” - -“Not an instant, señor!” - -“It is strange! Could he have entered by the quarter-gallery?” - -“It must have been so, señor, although I can discover no marks.” - -“I suspect Gonzalez,” said the count; “indeed, I am sure that he has -been concerned, but then he had not the vigor to deal such a blow. That -hateful American must have been the man. I will be deeply revenged!” - -Late that afternoon, as Talbot, sitting aloof from the other prisoners, -was grieving that Mary’s persecutor had recovered his faculties before -the arrival of the ship in port, and from which he feared the most -serious consequences, he was accosted by the master’s-mate, who said, in -passing, “Courage, my friend, you will soon be at liberty—take a cigar -to cheer you.” - -Talbot thanked him, and was about to decline, when he caught the eye of -the officer, and noticed that he pushed a particular one out from the -small bundle he held in his hand; Talbot took it, and watching his -opportunity, opened his cigar unobserved. It contained a small slip of -paper within its folds with these words. “We are strongly suspected, if -not discovered; I know it from the searching examination I have -undergone. We must fly and reach Havana before the ship if possible. Be -on the alert for any opportunity that may present to slip up the -main-hatch ladder, near which I will be hovering. Do not hesitate! Here -you are absolutely within the power of the tyrant. He will throw you -into the Moro Castle as soon as we arrive, and before your case can be -investigated, months must elapse, and in the meantime, the lady will be -lost to you forever.” - -This note agitated Talbot exceedingly. It was agonizing to think of -leaving Mary and her brother in the hands of their unprincipled captor; -and yet, from his own experience thus far, he felt sure, that if he -remained, he would be kept separated from her, and most probably -confined in a dungeon until her ruin was completed. His only consolation -was, that the count could not recover sufficiently to renew his -nefarious designs before the ship had reached her port of destination. -This consideration determined him to make his escape if possible. - -There had been some water heated in the coppers, (anglice—boiler,) for -the purpose of giving the count a prescribed bath. It so happened that -while the cook’s attention was drawn another way, a piece of meat was -thrown in, which rendered the water greasy and unfit for its destined -use. The master’s-mate was therefore directed to have more drawn from -the hold. Accordingly he came upon the lower or birth-deck, and as he -stepped from the ladder, said, sufficiently loud for Talbot to hear, who -was reclined beside it, “Look out!” and passed immediately on. The -latter, taking the hint, but uncertain how to apply it, remained for a -few moments in great suspense, when the master’s-mate called the sentry -forward to hold the light for him. As the latter moved forward, Talbot -availed himself of the opportunity, and instantly hurried up the ladder, -although yet uncertain if such were the plan concerted by his friends. -He was very soon assured, however, for nearly abreast of him, from the -shadow between two of the guns, a figure advanced a few steps and -immediately retired again. It proved to be Gonzalez, and together they -clambered out over one of the guns, and found themselves by the small -skiff of the privateer, which had been saved and hoisted up immediately -under the anchor in the waist. Fortunately, the wind had hauled nearly -ahead, and with the yards sharp-braced up, the ship was sailing -sluggishly along, with her head rather diagonally inclined toward the -shore. - -“We must remain quiet here,” whispered Gonzalez, “until some movement be -made on deck, in the noise of which we can lower the skiff undetected.” - -The wind was gradually freshening, and the ship began to plunge with the -increasing swell. After a while the topgallant-sails were taken in, but -it was an operation so quickly performed, that before the boat was -lowered half the distance it was suspended from the water, the noise -ceased, and they were obliged to hold on. In about half an hour after, -which seemed to them an almost interminable space of time, they were -cheered with the welcome order, - -“Man the main clew-garnets and buntlines,” preparatory to hauling up the -mainsail. As the men ran away with the ropes, and clued and gathered the -large and loudly flapping sail to the yard, Talbot and Gonzalez lowered -the boat, and casting her loose, the ship passed by without any one -observing them and was soon lost to view in the obscurity of the night. -They had exchanged apprehended evils from human malignity for instant -and appalling danger. The moon, struggling through a bank of clouds and -shorn of her brilliancy by the opposing mist, cast her furtive beams -upon the fretted sea. Instead of the prolonged and easy swell of the -mid-ocean, the gulf, as if moved by adverse tides, whirled its waves -about like some huge Briareus, tossing his hundred arms in the wildest -and most furious contortions. The skiff was so light, so frail, and so -difficult of trim, that they were every moment in danger of upsetting. -The swell rapidly increased, and as they sunk into the trough of the -sea, and shut out the faint horizon, the succeeding wave overshadowed, -and its crest seemed to curl in anger above them. Sometimes a wave, like -some monster rising from the deep, looked down black and threatening -upon the tiny boat, and then rolling its seething foam along the sides, -it rushed ahead, and gathering into a mass, seemed to await her coming. -Thinly clad, and soon wet to the skin, as they rode upon the tops of the -waves, they suffered bitterly from the coldness of the wind. In the -hollow of the sea, they were sheltered one moment only to be more -exposed the next. Sometimes riding upon the broken crest of a wave, they -felt upon their bed of foam, as insignificant and far more helpless than -the gulls which, disturbed in their slumber, screamed around them. The -oars were of little service, save to steady the boat in the dreadful -pitchings and careerings to which it was every instant subjected. One -managed the oars, or sculls rather, while the other steered and -occasionally bailed. There could be no transfer of labor, for it was -certain death to attempt a change of position. Although the current set -along the land, the wind and the heave of the sea, drove them indirectly -toward it. After five hours incessant fatigue, cold, cramped and wearied -to exhaustion, they reached the near vicinity of the shore, and running -along it for about a mile, in increased danger, for the boat was now -nearly broadside to the sea, they made the mouth of a small harbor, into -which, as their frames thrilled with gratitude, they pulled with all -their might. As the peace and the joys of heaven are to the wrangling -and contumelies of this world, so was the placid stillness of that -sheltered nook to the fierce wind and troubled sea without. The -transition was as sudden as it was delightful, and with uncovered heads -and upturned gaze, each paid his heartfelt tribute of thankfulness. - -On one side of the sequestered little bay, through the dim and uncertain -light, they discovered two or three huts, embowered and almost concealed -by groves of the umbrageous and productive banana, whose large -pendent-leaves waving in the wind, seemed at one time to beckon them on, -and at another to warn them from approaching. It was evidently a fishing -settlement, for there were some boats hauled up on the shore, and a long -seine was hung upon a number of upright poles. Pulling toward what -seemed the usual landing, their light skiff grated upon the pebbly -beach, and they leaped, overjoyed, upon the silent shore—silent and -mute in all that pertains to human action or the human voice, but -eloquent, most eloquent, in the outpourings of a rich and teeming earth, -and the gushing emotions of thankfulness it awakened in the bosoms of -those two weary and persecuted men. - - [_To be continued._ - - * * * * * - - - - - VICTORY AND DEFEAT. - - - To-day, with loud acclaim the welkin rings - In praise of deeds the shout of VICTORY brings: - To-morrow, not e’en Echo will repeat - The praise of deeds then canceled by DEFEAT. - - * * * * * - - - - - TO MOTHER. - - - BY ANNIE GREY. - - - Oh! wake, my mother! wake! and hail - With me this dawning day; - Oh wake, my mother! wake and list - Thy daughter’s fervent lay. - - She comes to seek thy blessing, - And to whisper in thine ear— - That warmer glows her love for thee - With every added year. - - Wake, mother! wake! while faintly steal - The sunbeams pure and bright, - And playful throw around thy couch - Their most bewitching light. - - For this is a hallowed day, mother! - A hallowed day to me; - ’Twas at its dawn, four years ago, - That first I greeted thee. - - We love the sunbeams, mother, - And wheresoe’er they rest, - We feel their sacred influence, - As though some angel guest - - Concealed itself ’mid golden rays, - That from God’s holy shrine - Fall as night-dews or summer-showers, - Refreshing and divine. - - We love the sunbeams, mother! - What beauties they awake, - When first from the clear eastern sky - All gloriously they break. - - Oh! how the flowers delight to feel - Their warm kiss from above, - And brighten ’neath it as the heart - Beneath a kiss of love; - - And merrier dance the waters, - When every ripple shows - A sparkling crown like diamond gems, - As carelessly it flows. - - But wake, my mother! wake and list - The strain I have to sing; - ’Tis not of these glad sunbeams, - Though joy around they fling, - - But of a sunbeam brighter, - That cheers me all the while, - And never knoweth change, mother! - The sunbeam of thy smile. - - How often, oh! how often, - When my heart feels lone and drear, - Its thrilling presence banishes - All thoughts of grief or fear. - - How often, often, mother! - When I’ve mourned, but scarce knew why, - I’ve hailed its light, and soon forgot - The tear-drop and the sigh. - - For thoughts of sadness will intrude - Upon my soul oft times; - They come and bid me ne’er forget - That there are purer climes. - - And still I trust its radiance - May fall upon my soul - Through all my future hours and days, - As onward still they roll. - - And, mother! oh, my mother! - When this dream of life is o’er, - When God calls back his wandering child - To Heaven’s unclouded shore, - - Amid the pure and golden beams - That fall around me there, - The gentle stir of angel wings - And harp-strings softly fair, - - I’ll not forget thee, mother! - Though fleeting years have flown, - But come sometimes and watch o’er thee - When thou art all alone. - - Thou wilt not see me, but I’ll come - Upon the summer breeze, - Or hidden lay amid the shade - Of young, green summer leaves, - - And whisper in thine ear, mother, - Of what I feel too well, - But words of mortal dialect - Can never, never tell. - - I’ll whisper of my fervent love, - And breathe low thanks to thee - For all the tenderness and care - Thou hast bestowed on me. - - And I shall hope to meet thee - In the sinless land on high, - Where we can lisp in tones of love - The language of the sky. - - Oh! I shall be waiting, mother dear! - And watching all the while, - To greet again, with happy heart, - The sunbeam of thy smile. - - * * * * * - - - - - ON A DIAMOND RING. - - - BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. - - - Rare is the diamond’s lustre, and the mine - No richer treasure hath than yellow gold; - Yet were its jewels of a price untold, - Still dearer charms this little ring doth shrine. - Circling thy taper finger, how divine - Its lot; oft to thy fair cheek prest, - And by such contact past expression blest, - Or sparkling ’mid those sunny locks of thine! - Oh! these are uses which might consecrate - The basest metal, or the dull, vile earth; - Enhance the diamond’s price, or elevate - The clod to an inestimable worth. - Would that so dear a gem, which thus hath shone - Upon thy snowy hand, might ever bless my own! - - * * * * * - - - - - THE RECLUSE. NO. I. - - - BY PARK BENJAMIN. - - -In the series of papers (and they will have the rare merit of being -short) which I am about to offer to the reader, I shall not so far -follow the ill fashion of the day as to strive to be “original.” I do -not mean by this remark to signify that I shall not give my own thoughts -in my own way. But I shall not twist the English language out of all -shape and comeliness; I shall not Germanize and Frenchize and -Italianize; I shall express my ideas in the simplest possible words; I -shall always choose the Saxon rather than the Norman; I shall endeavor -to write so that “he who runs may read.” Were I a teacher of youth, I -should recommend as the best models of style Swift and Southey, Addison, -Steele, Channing, Sir James Macintosh, Irving, not Carlyle, Gibbon, -Johnson, Emerson. I set plain Nature above gorgeous Art. The epithet -“natural” conveys to my mind the highest praise of verse or prose. A -style may indeed be eminently artistic, but still appear to be natural. - -I have said enough to show the manner in which I shall try to convey my -ideas. Fewer words will set forth the character of my matter. - -I have no subject. I think, in my solitude, of many things. As thoughts -occur to me I put them down. Though a Recluse, and having but little -society except that of woods and fields, rocks and waters, I am fond of -contemplating the events of the hour. Many of my topics will therefore -be of immediate interest. They will at least have the charm of variety, -and my “mode of treatment,” to use an expression of physicians, the -merit of brevity. - -This is sufficient introduction. Courteous reader, I salute you. - - - I.—THE CROTON CELEBRATION. - -Of all public displays, that which affected me most deeply was the -celebration of the opening of the Croton river into the great city of -New York. A day had been appointed by the powers in being. Arrangements -were made for a mighty civic procession. It was a jubilee of Cold Water. -The Temperance Societies figured chiefly on the occasion. Those trades -which best flourish by the practice of temperance were numerously -represented, bearing before them their symbols and instruments. I -remember a printing-press on a platform, borne triumphantly along, -working as it went, throwing off handbills, on which odes were printed, -to the eager and amused crowd on both sides of the way. By the side of -that printing-press sat, in smiling dignity, Colonel Stone, as everybody -called him, then editor of the Commercial Advertiser. Kind-hearted, -conscientious, hospitable, credulous, verbose gentleman! thou art -sleeping as silently as those aboriginal lords of the soil whose lives -thou commemoratedst! - -I have seen a great many multitudes, but never so quiet, so orderly, so -well-dressed, so happy a concourse as that which filled the windows and -balconies and doorsteps, and absolutely covered the sidewalks, on the -morning of the Croton celebration. Throngs of gayly clad women and -children moved merrily about; for there was not a solitary drunkard that -day in all the streets of the city to molest or make them afraid. An -individual under the influence of any liquor more potent than that which -was gushing from a thousand fountains, would have been an anomaly too -hideous to be borne. Braver than Julius Cæsar or Zachary Taylor must he -have been who dared to took upon wine red in the cup on such a day as -that. - -I well remember the reflections which passed through my mind as I stood -gazing on that happy and soul-comforting scene. The treaty of peace, as -it might well have been called, establishing the North-Eastern boundary -of the United States, settling a _questio vexata_ of long continuance, -which had again and again threatened war, had just been concluded -between this country and Great Britain—thanks to the pacific -dispositions and noble talents of the negotiators. Thinking of this, as -I looked at the mighty civic array, at the procession, which was like an -endless chain of human beings, the head of it, after having traveled -through six miles of streets, meeting the tail of it, which had not yet -drawn an inch of its slow length along, below the Park—as I looked at -the smiling faces and the sporting fountains—I exclaimed to myself, How -glorious a scene is this! How much worthier of a free people than the -martial triumphs of old! A great good has been done. Energy and Skill -have effected a stupendous work. Thousands and thousands are met -together on an appointed day, to commemorate an achievement which shall -prove a blessing to many generations yet unborn. Indeed, indeed this is -more to be desired than the most complete of victories. - -I went on thus with my cogitations. Let me suppose that these -negotiations between two nations, strong in men and the resources of -warfare, negotiations skillfully conducted to a most fortunate issue, -and the establishment of a peace in which all the world is interested, -had proved to be unsuccessful. Suppose that war had been declared, that -we had no longer ago than yesterday received intelligence of a conquest -on the sea, that a fierce battle had been fought, and that our ships had -come into port laden with spoils and crowded with prisoners. How -different to-day would have been our rejoicings! The outward -demonstrations might, in some respects, have been the same. The streets -would have been filled with multitudes of men; the bells of the churches -(oh sacrilege!) would have pealed long and loudly; the flag of our -country would have waved from many a house-top and “liberty-pole”—yet, -in the midst of all this, there would have been distinguished the -trophies of wo and of disaster. The cannon, which had dealed death to -the brave, would have been borne through the streets, and the banners of -the conquered trailed in the dust. Execrations would have mingled with -shouts, and frowns of hatred with smiles of joy. Sorrow and anguish -would have been comates with exultation and delight, and the hilarity of -all hearts deeply subdued by the sad faces of many mourners. - -And how different would have been our inward emotions! Instead of “calm -thoughts regular as infant’s breath,” we should have experienced a -tumultuous rapture, a demoniac triumph, an uneasy and restless joy, a -trembling pride, a satisfaction with the present embittered by fears for -the future. Now we rejoice with cheerful consciences. No “coming events -cast their shadows before” to cloud the horizon of hope. We look upon a -cloudless firmament above us and around us. We are indeed proud of the -task which has been accomplished; but ours is a pride unmixed with any -baser emotion—a pride honorable to humanity. Ah, how much more glorious -is this than a victory! It is a sight to make the old young—a sight -worthy of perpetual commemoration. It will be always recollected. We -shall tell it to our children’s children. From time to time our authors -shall write of it—so that it may always live in the memory of the age. - - - II.—ON A BIBLE. - - Could this outside beholden be - To cost and cunning equally, - Or were it such as might suffice - The luxury of curious eyes— - Yet would I have my dearest look - Not on the cover, but the Book. - - If thou art merry, here are airs; - If melancholy, here are prayers; - If studious, here are those things writ - Which may deserve thy ablest wit; - If hungry, here is food divine; - If thirsty, Nectar, Heavenly wine. - - Read then, but first thyself prepare - To read with zeal and mark with care; - And when thou read’st what here is writ, - Let thy best practice second it; - So twice each precept read shall be, - First in the Book, and next in thee. - - Much reading may thy spirits wrong, - Refresh them therefore with a song; - And, that thy music praise may merit, - Sing David’s Psalms with David’s spirit, - That, as thy voice doth pierce men’s ears, - So shall thy prayers and vows the spheres. - - Thus read, thus sing, and then to thee - The very earth a Heaven shall be; - If thus thou readest, thou shalt find - A private Heaven within thy mind, - And, singing thus, before thou die - Thou sing’st thy part to those on high. - -I have modernized the orthography of the foregoing quaint and beautiful -stanzas, from the dress in which they are clothed in the second part of -the Diary of Lady Willoughby, just published by John Wiley, bookseller, -in New York. They are happily imitative of the style of the poets of -olden time. They remind one of George Herbert—that “sweet singer in the -Israel” of the English church, of Donne, of Wotton, and of other -lyrists, who chanted the praises of our God. To my ear, much dearer are -such simple, tuneful verses than the grandiloquent outpourings of the -more modern muse. They come home, as it were, to one’s child-like -sympathies. They awaken the thoughts of “youthly years;” they freshen -the withered feelings of the heart, as heaven’s dew freshens the dried -leaves in summer. - -Let me recommend this most tender, most soul-touching of “late -works”—these passages from the Diary of Lady Willoughby. It is not a -_real_ “aunciente booke,” but an imitation; yet, like certain copies of -a picture by an old master, it may boast some touches better than the -original. Chatterton’s forgeries were not more perfect in their way, -though this be no forgery, but what it pretends to be—namely, an -invention. I feared, when I took up the second part of this remarkable -production, that it would deteriorate in interest, that the hand of the -_artist_ would become manifest. But it is not so. Here, throughout, is -the _ars celare artem_ in perfection. - -How touching a lesson do the feigned sorrows the Lady Willoughby present -to her sex. What absence of repining! What reliance on the justice and -mercy of God! What trust in the merits of her Redeemer! Her faith is -never shaken. Her soul is never dismayed. With an expression holier than -Raphael has imparted to his pictures of the Madonna, she looks upward -and is comforted. Ever into the troubled waters of her soul descends the -angel of peace. Perfect pattern is she for wives and mothers. Excellent -example of a Christian woman. - - - III. - -Are not some of the prophecies being fulfilled in these latter days? -Trace we not in the decay of old empires the tempest of God’s wrath? Is -not the arm of the Lord stretched out over the people and over the -nations of the earth? Breaks he not thrones to pieces as if they were -potter’s vessels? Where are the kings and princes who were born and -chosen to rule over men? “How are the mighty fallen!” Even now, as by -the mouth of his holy prophet, Isaiah, may the Lord say, “Is not _this_ -the fast that I have chosen. To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo -the heavy burdened, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break -every yoke?” - -Truly has my mind, shut out as I am from commune with the busy -world—truly has my mind been deeply, solemnly affected by the wondrous -events which are passing in those realms, the pages of whose history are -printed in blood. I see the hand of God in all. I trace the fulfillment -of prophecies contained in the Book of books. I am oppressed by a -sensation of awe as I read the words of inspiration and discern their -truth in these latter days. - -Was not the heart of Louis Philippe before his sudden and terrible -overthrow as stout as the heart of the King of Assyria? Did not he, too, -say of his monarchy, his rule and his riches—not only to himself, but -even to the stranger in his land— - -“By the strength of my hand I have done it and by my wisdom; for I am -prudent; and I have removed the bounds of the people, and have robbed -their treasures, and I have put down the inhabitants like a valiant man; -and my hand hath found as a nest the riches of the people.” - -And was he not likewise cast down? Was not a burning kindled under his -glory like the burning of a fire? “And behold at evening-tide, trouble, -and before the morning he _was_ not.” - -“This is the portion of them that spoil us,” shouted the people of -France at the overthrow of the family of Orleans. “This is the portion -of them that spoil us, and the lot of them that rob us.” - - * * * * * - - - - - ROME. - - - BY R. H. STODDARD. - - -In the heart of Rome eternal, the Coliseum stands sublime, -Lofty in the midst of ruins, like a temple built to Time. - -Vast, colossal, ’tis with piles of broken arches reared on high, -But the dome is gone, and nothing roofs it but the summer sky. - -And the walls are rent, and gaping wide, and crumbling fast away, -And the columns waste, but moss and grasses cover their decay. - -When the sky of June was bluest, melting as the eye of love, -And the breezes from Campagnia bore the city’s hum above; - -Poring o’er the rich and classic authors of the Age of Gold, -Virgil, Horace, Terence, Plautus, Livy and historians old, - -I imagined Rome restored as in the glorious days of yore, -Peopled by the great and mighty, as it shall be nevermore. - -I beheld the Past before me, and the fallen circus rose, -And the leaning columns righted, and the ruins seemed to close; - -Flags were streaming on the lofty walls, and standards of renown, -Plucked from out some hostile army, or some sacked and burning town; - -Proud patricians filled the boxes, judges, senators, in white, -Consuls from remotest provinces, and hosts of ladies bright; - -And the emperor sat among them, in his regal purple proud, -And below a countless sea of heads, the common plebeian crowd; - -Wrestlers struggled in the ring, and athlete and equestrians bold, -And the steeds and dashing chariots raised a cloud of dusty gold; - -Troops of sworded gladiators, Dacian captives, fought and bled, -And the lists were strewn with wretches lying on their bucklers dead; - -And in the arena Christian saints and martyrs, old and gray, -Were trampled in the dust, and torn by savage beasts of prey. - -Sick of this, I turned and looking out the arches in the street, -I beheld a mighty multitude, a crowd with hurrying feet; - -Nobles with their flowing togas, simple artisans bedight -In their holyday attire and badges, maids with eyes of light, - -Waving hands to lovers distant, and the little children clung -To their mother’s gowns, and nurses held aloft their infants young, - -And afar and pouring through the city gates a long array, -And in front, in his triumphal car, the hero of the day; - -And his coursers champed their frosted bits and pranced, but all in vain, -Braced he stood, with streaming robe, and checked them with a tightened - rein; - -And a mournful group of kingly captives, dusty, drooping low, -Followed, fettered to his chariot, gracing his triumphal show; - -Augurs and soothsayers, flamen, tribunes, lictors bearing rods, -And gray-bearded priests, with olive boughs and statues of the gods, - -Shaking from their brazen censers clouds of incense to the skies, -Leading lowing steers, in wreaths and garlands decked, to sacrifice. - -Sacred nymphs from temples near, in spotless white, and vestal throngs -Followed solemn, dancing mystic dances, singing choral songs. - -Cohorts of the Roman soldiers conquering legions marched behind, -With their burnished armor shining and their banners on the wind; - -And, with distance faint, the brattling drums, the trumpet’s mighty blast, -And the clarion rung and sounded like an echo from the Past. - -All at once the glorious vision melted, faded in the air, -Like a desert exhalation, leaving all its ruin bare. - -And, in place of glory and the beauty of the olden day, -I beheld the Queen of Cities wasted, fallen in decay. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE MISSIONARY, SUNLIGHT. - - - BY CAROLINE C——. - - - “Her presence makes thick darkness light— - Hope’s rainbow spreadeth o’er her path; - Through her, weak souls are filled with might, - And Mercy triumphs over Wrath.” - - -A sweet Sister of Charity, a faithful, never-wearying missionary, is the -beautiful Sunlight, daughter of the proud monarch who reigns supremely -over the broad dominions of the “upper blue!” - -Six long, tedious months in her father’s gorgeous palace, had the lovely -maiden been constrained to mingle in the festal scenes which enlivened -the monarch’s dwelling during that dreary time when the poor earth lay -helplessly beneath the iron hand of winter. How often from the -palace-windows had she looked with eyes dimmed with tears, and most -melancholy glances on the world that was subject during all those months -to a _natural_ kind of heathenish slavery! Despoiled of their rich -garments the old princes of the forests stretched forth their naked arms -toward her in supplication of her presence and charitable aid. A voice, -to no ear audible save her own, crept up from beneath the winding-sheets -which envelopes streamlet and river; and a wail that broke forth from -the poor in their agony and want, reached her gentle heart, and her -tears fell afresh. And even the children of gayety and fashion felt an -irresistable yearning in their hearts to listen once more to her soft -and gentle teachings! - -But “’tis always the darkest the hour before day;” and while Sunlight -was half-despairingly revolving in her mind all possible means by which -she might again, without the utmost danger of sudden death, be enabled -freely to wander over earth to beautify and bless it, the discerning old -king, her father, saw how pale her cheek was growing, and how dimness -was creeping over her bright eyes. He knew she wearied of, and longed -heartily to escape from the heartless pomp and magnificence which -surrounded her; so he resolved to carry into immediate execution a plan -he had long been contemplating. He would make a sudden and strong attack -on his old foe who was lording it so magnificently over earth! He would -teach the rough, boorish chieftain, in a way he could not mistake, that -there were other and mightier powers in existence than his own. - -So he fought long and valiantly, and won the victory—a glorious one it -was, too. In a few days many sharp, fierce conflicts had taken place, -the glittering crown of winter was broken, his staff of office taken -from him, and the disagreeable old gray-beard was forced to skulk away -in silence and shame and confusion of face, to his bleak and fitting -home at the North Pole. - -(Would he were wise enough not to attempt again another short-lived -triumph! But he is so Napoleon-ish in his nature, we may well have our -fears on this point.) - -When the king had returned to his palace the night of the last decisive -victory—after he had thrown aside his golden armor, though weary from -the conflict, he paused not a moment to rest till he had summoned his -young daughter to his presence, and thus made known to her his will. - -“To-morrow, my child, put on thy most beautiful and radiant garments, -and let the bright smile come back once more to thy face, for I have -work for thee to do. I have subdued the army of King Winter, and now it -shall be thine to make joy in the place where he has sown desolation. It -is thine, to restore order and comfort and happiness and beauty in the -dwelling place where he reigned in such a rude, uncivilized, mobocrastic -manner. Ah! that light in thine eye tells me it is no ungrateful task I -set for thee! it is very plain now, the cause of all thy sighing and -tears for so long back; the old bloom will revisit thy cheek again I -see. But remember, thy mission is one all-important. Do all things well, -and nothing hastily—and now to rest! This shall be no gala-night, thou -needest all thy strength for thy work; so haste to thy couch, and be -stirring early in the morn.” - -When the maiden was thus assured of the fulfillment of her greatest -hope, she bended down at the king’s feet and said, joyfully, “Oh, my -father, I bless thee for thy goodness. The dear earth, she shall swiftly -know thy mercy, and array herself in glorious garments in which to honor -her deliverer! To-morrow, to-morrow shall see that if thou, my father, -art strong to make free, thy daughter is loving, and patient, and full -of good-will to help and adorn the miserable captives thou hast -delivered from bondage.” - -And early the next morning the lovely princess went forth alone, -rejecting all offers of a body-guard, a most devout and devoted -missionary, whose end and aim was to make glad the waste-places, and to -cause the wilderness to blossom. - -There were as yet, here and there, stubborn patches of snow on the -ground, and a vindictive, sharp-voiced wind, a wounded straggler -belonging to the white king’s retreating army, and his chief object -seemed to be to exhaust the patience of all who were within hearing -wherever he moved, by his rude insulting speeches. But totally unmindful -of him, and maintaining a most dignified silence, Sunlight passed by -him, well knowing that he too would speedily be compelled to follow -whither his master had gone. - -Sometimes dark, threatening clouds would flit before her eyes, for a -moment totally obstructing her vision, but a brave heart was that -maiden’s, and when these petty annoyances were passed, she continued on -her way patiently and hopefully as before. An apparently hopeless and -endless task was that Sunlight had undertaken. She must, as it were, -perform the part of resurrectionist. She must breathe life into a -breathless body, and call the seemingly dead forth from their graves. -The labor seemed too vast for her gentle hand, it appeared almost -impossible that she should accomplish it. She was alone, too, in a -strange, unpleasant kind of silence. There was not the voice of even a -bird to cheer her on, and stiff and mute the brooklets lay in their -coffins of ice. - -But she is very far from despairing. And her strength is, indeed, -perfectly wonderful. Stealing with quiet steps along the banks of the -little streams, she speaks to them some words apparently powerful as the -“open sesame,” for the waters begin to open their eyes, faintly the -pulse begins to throb, and the heart to beat, and ere long they have -wholly thrown off that cold shroud which enveloped them, while it in -turn becomes part and parcel of their own rejoicing life. Then they set -forth rejoicing in their strength, and glorying in their newly-gained -liberty, careering through the just awakening fields, and astonishing -them by the beautiful soft songs of thanksgiving they unremittingly -sing. The princess is not alone then—one class of prisoners she has -released, and their glad voices cheer and encourage her in her work of -love. - -Day after day she returns unweariedly to the great field of her pleasant -labor, and day by day perfects the evidence of her progress. A most -efficient co-worker whom she arouses and entices to join her in her -work, is the gentle spirit of the summer wind. Encouraged and excited by -her smile, he takes the oath of fealty, and heartily strives to aid his -mistress. From the brow of earth he wipes away the tears the stars have -wept, and multitudinous are his kind unceasing offices, for she has -promised him a dominion which shall spread over many rejuvenated -forests, and freshly garmented fields! - -In the old woods she lays her hand upon the myriad branches, and on the -softening ground beneath which lie the buried roots. From every bough -she calleth forth the tender buds, and ere long she spreads with kindly -hands a rich, green mantle over all the forests. And in those -“leafy-pavilions,” the returning birds she has summoned from the south, -build their nests, and sing merrily through the long, happy days. - -Quickened into life by her presence and word, over all the barren fields -the soft and tender grass springs up; the moss becomes aspiring, too, -even the humble moss, and disowning its gray garments, it dons the more -beautiful and universal green livery. A thousand thousand insects spring -into sudden existence—the voice of the croaking frog is once more found -in tune. Violets bud and blossom, the air grows increasingly more mild; -even the wind learns a sweeter song; the heavens finding it impossible -to resist the general rejoicing which follows the most successful labor -of the missionary, put on a brighter and a more resplendant garment, and -the dear Sunlight is filled with unfeigned rejoicing when she sees how -speedily the regenerating influences of her glance are recognized. - -It is spring-time then! - -Weeks pass on, but Sunlight does not tarry in her work; the grand -commencement she has made, but the work of perfecting is yet to be done. - -Gradually she spreads a richer green over all the meadows; all along the -banks of streams and lakes the grass grows long and soft—the leaves -hang heavier and fuller on the forest boughs—a softer voice whispers -through the day-time and the night—flowers blossom more richly and -abundantly, and the air is filled with their fragrance. Sunlight has -spread the perfection of beauty over earth, and filled with unutterable -affection for the world she has beautified, more warm and tender grow -her embracings—and in return the voices of all the earth go up in a -fervent declaration of love and gratitude to the fair missionary who has -so generously, so gloriously labored for them. The good, beautiful -Sunlight! no wonder all creation loves her, and blesses her; no wonder -that innumerable objects, on all other subjects dull and voiceless, -discover a way in which to sing her praises! - -It were idle to attempt a detail of all the _homes and hearts_ that even -in one day she blesses and enlivens by her presence; but let us for a -few moments follow her in her wanderings, perhaps thereby we may gain a -proper appreciation of the labors of this good angel. - -It is morning, and she has just alighted on the earth; and see now where -her light feet are first directed. On yonder hill there stands a lofty -building—secure as a fortress, made of stone, and brick, and iron. It -is a gloomy, comfortless looking place; the windows, though it is a warm -summer morning, are fast closed, and bars of iron stretch over them! It -is a prison-house; but, though its inmates are guilty criminals, the -pure and high-born Sunlight does not disdain to visit them. She is -looking through all those grated windows fronting us—will you also look -in? - -There is a criminal condemned to death—a hardened villain, whose -unbridled passions have worked his ruin. He is yet far from old, not a -gray hair is there in all that thick black mass which crowns his head! -From his youth up his life has been a life of sin, and little remorse. -Heaven has at last overtaken him, and he will soon fearfully expiate, in -part, his guilt. - -Yesterday, justice delivered to him the sentence; he listened to it as -though he heard it in a trance, and ever since they brought him from the -presence of the excited court, he has sat on that hard pallet, -immoveable as now. His food is untouched—he has no time to feel the -wants of nature; his arms are closely, convulsively folded upon his -breast; the black, large eyes, have a fixed and stony glare, in which it -would seem few tears had ever gathered; firmly compressed are the pale -lips; no prayer or sigh, or moan shall issue from them! He knows there -is no way of escape for him—that on such a day, at such an hour, he -will perish by the executioner’s hand; and that dreadful fact it is -which is constantly staring in his face, and writing such a record of -shame and terror in his heart. - -He feels no penitence—nothing but anger, that he has stupidly suffered -himself to be overtaken by the hand of the law—that his crimes have -been detected. It is not the fear of God that is before his eyes; it is -not dread of the hereafter which so overpowers him, but hatred of his -fellow men, and a desire to wreak his vengeance on them who have brought -to light his guilt! - -Through all the long, dark hours he has rested on his hard bed, -listening to the “voices of the night,” and not one softening thought -has entered his heart, not one repentant sigh has he breathed. It seemed -then as though nothing could arouse him as he so coldly beheld the -reality, death staring him in the face. But now see, there is a faint -glow on the narrow window-pane, and it grows brighter and brighter. -Creeping slowly along the wall it reaches him at last—it falls upon his -breast—it glances over his hard face, where sin has written her -signature with a pen, as of iron—it looks into his stern eyes—that -light arouses him, and while he returns the piercing gaze of the -sunbeam, human feelings are aroused in his breast once more. He rises -from the place where in his rage he had flung himself—he gazes round -the contracted, miserable cell in which he is secured! Alas! and he has -fallen so far that humanity acknowledges the justice of immuring him in -a prison! and as he gazes on the gentle spirit whose presence fills his -cell with light, the recollections of his far-off, innocent -childhood—of his early home, from whence not a great many years ago he -went with the blessing of his old mother sounding in his ears, steals -over him—his heart is softening—his lips tremble—the stolid, hardened -look has passed from his countenance—he is human again—he weeps! -Blessed Sunlight! Fairest and holiest of the missionaries, who come from -the halls of heaven to purify the earth, she has subdued him! Oh, we -will hope that now, since the heart of stone has been changed to one of -flesh, the good, redeeming work may not stop there; we will hope that -when he is standing in his last hour upon the scaffold, when she comes -to him again, it may be with a faith-supported heart that he will behold -in her brightness a token of the blissful rest which awaits his -repentant, pardoned spirit! - -Close adjoining this cell there is another which likewise has its guilty -inmate—a miserable, abandoned woman. She is sleeping. For her violation -of the laws both of God and man she is now imprisoned. - -She is sleeping, but hers is a troubled slumber, for conscience is at -work night and day in the mind of that woman, accusing and -condemning—yet she sleeps. She is dreaming of the husband of her early -years—of the child in whom, when she was young and innocent, and of -contented mind, her hope and joy centered; she is dreaming of her maiden -home—of her bridal morning. The voices of her former, youthful friends -are ringing in her ears; the innocent thoughts and hopes of girlhood -fill her heart again. She wakens weeping—for in imagination she is -standing once more beside the death-bed of her mother, listening to the -words of warning and counsel that mother forces herself to speak when -she beholds with all a parent’s agony that the girl of her hopes is -treading in the wild paths of shame and sin. - -She wakens in tears, with a strange feeling of contrition that she has -seldom or never felt before agitating her bosom, to see the Sunlight -looking down with pitying glance upon her—to see the good spirit whose -mission it is to make glad and bright the earth, deigning to creep -through those prison-bars to speak a word of counsel and hope to her. -Thoughts of her husband, on whose honest name she has cast such -dishonor, and of her deserted, innocent child, come to her full of most -sorrowful reproach. A longing for the restoration of her lost virtue—a -conviction of the peacefulness and happiness and exceeding reward -attending goodness, ever make her unsealed tears flow more freely. -Beside that narrow bed, on the stone floor of her cell, she kneels down -in her sorrow and contrition, and on her knees she breathes forth such a -prayer as never before went from her heart. And the dear Sunlight is -witness of that prayer! She looks upon the kneeling penitent with -joy—and from that now hallowed place she does not steal forth hastily, -leaving the cell dreary and comfortless as before; she is there when the -woman rises from her supplication, as though to assure of the smile of -Heavenly forgiveness, which may yet await her. She remains to give -encouragement to the hope that the corroding stains now resting on her -soul may be ere long effectually wiped away—that reconcilement and love -and peace, are yet for her on earth. - -Near this woman’s cell there is another where a youth, unjustly accused, -singularly blameless and innocent in his life, is singing a morning hymn -of praise and adoration. Hemmed in as he is by the prison-wall, deprived -of that freedom which is the good man’s _best_ possession, confined with -guilty men, and bearing himself the heavy imputation of crime, yet is he -supported by the comforting knowledge of his innocence, and by the -assurance that the eye which is strong to pierce the secrets of the -heart, knows his innocence. The dreariness of his confinement does not -fill his soul with terror; his faith is strong in the power and goodness -of his Maker, and so it is with patience he performs the labor -apportioned him, looking confidently for the hour of his release, and -the honorable conviction of his uprightness in the minds of all honest -men. - -And when the kindly Sunlight appears before _him_, her presence but -serves to foster these hopes. It is a sweet message of patience and -faith she whispers to him, and after she has departed, through all the -long day its remembrance strengthens and cheers him. Blessed be the good -spirit who remembers to visit these sad, afflicted, guilty ones in the -hour when they are well-nigh forgotten of all the world, and by their -own kin! - -Beyond the prison, on the same range of elevated grounds, just without -the city, there is a cemetery—a quiet place where the dead sleep in -peace. And thither Sunlight bends her golden, sandaled feet. How -brightly her shadow lies on the white monuments, and on the grass and -flowers. How quiet and holy is this place, there is no sound of the -tread of living feet to disturb the rest of the slumberers; no human -form at this early hour is treading in this solitary place to muse on -the “vanity of all earthly things,” or to weep over the departed! Oh, -yes! there, by that newly-made grave, where the sod has been placed so -recently, there, where the print of the feet of the funeral-train is yet -fresh on the loosened ground, there stands a child with flowers in her -hand; she has come to lay them on the grave of her mother! The Sunlight -knew that she would meet her there, for every morning since the day the -funeral-train paused there, and laid the loving mother in the dark, -cold, “narrow house,” the little girl has visited that grave, bringing -with her to beautify it, and make it seem a rest more sweet and -cheerful, the flowers from her little garden, which early in the spring -her mother planted there. When the child goes back to the city, the vast -crowds of life will have awakened, and the rush, and jar, and strife, -will have begun; happy were it for all those multitudes, if a voice, -gentle and holy in its teaching as has spoken to that young girl, -whispered also to them, ere they mingled in the whirlpools of business -and pleasure! - -Then amid the dwellings of the city Sunlight wanders next. And by no -means is she sure to honor first with her presence the mansions of the -rich; for at such an early hour she would hardly receive a welcome -there; perhaps, however, this is not the sole reason why the very first -place which she chooses to enter is the cot of the humble laborer. -Gently does she lay her fair hand on his rude, weather-worn frame, and -tenderly she kisses his hard-browned face, as a loving mother embraces -her infant. And if the man does not at once awaken at the call of her -royal highness, she does not go away and leave him in _humanly_ anger, -but yet more lovingly does she caress him, thinking meanwhile to -herself, “poor man, he was worn out by his hard work yesterday.” And so -at last by her patient gentleness she succeeds in awakening him—and -when he rubs his eyes, and sees her waiting for him there, with her soft -hand, on which the regal ring is glistening, resting so lovingly upon -him, how he reproaches himself that he has dared to sleep while she was -honoring his poor roof by her presence! and how fervent is the blessing -with which his heart blesses her, as he hastens away to his labor with a -light heart and renewed courage. - -Later in the day, peeping into the small windows of the unpretending -school-room, she beckons to the little children to come out and ramble -with her among the fields, to hunt for the ripe strawberries in the -grass, and to gather the violets, and lilies, and wild-geranium flowers -which grow in the shady woods. A beautiful song she sings to the merry -youngsters—a song whose burden has more of wisdom in it than many -gather from their books in the coarse of years—a lesson of reverence of -freedom, and of innocent love for nature. - -Sunlight is not content with merely resting like a _visible blessing_ on -the head of the gentle girl whose breast is throbbing with a “love for -all things pure and holy,” she steals into her guileless heart, and -makes _that_ glorious by her smiling there; and the little one laughs -while she lingers, because she fancies that all the future to which she -looks forward, will prove as bright and joyous as the unclouded present. -And as for the king’s daughter, she knows when she hears that joyous -ringing laugh which always welcomes her presence, that it is indeed more -blessed to give than to receive! - -The bright-eyed maiden _loves_ children, with all the earnestness of her -soft, true heart, and how earnestly they return her love, let every man -and woman and child answer! She is, indeed, like a kind and gentle elder -friend to them—like a friend whose heart has not grown cold or hard -from much mingling with the world, who knows how to sympathize with them -in their simple joys, who listens to their merry voices with a tender -interest, which time has not been enabled to make cold or false. - -Well may the children love her, whose smile is the grand main-spring of -their joy—the constant inspirer of their never-ceasing hope! - -Look for a moment into this alms-house. Poor people, the wretchedly -poor, who were rendered at last, by long destitution utterly unable to -work with the rude elements of life, which lay like broken useless tools -around them, are gathered here for rest, that they may gain strength for -a renewal of their conflict! For a few weeks, and perhaps a longer time, -they may dwell in this comfortable shelter, and partake of food, _not_ -gathered from the refuse of rich men’s tables—they may partially rest -from their hard, unsatisfactory, unproductive labor. Let us hope that -Sunlight may not speak vainly to them now, as every day she livens up -their new home, let us hope they may understand the cheering messages -she brings to them, and as they learn more of the goodness and justice -of their Creator _than they have ever yet had time_ to learn, perhaps -with more of hope and resignation they will endure their burden. It were -well to go through necessity to a poor-house, even if we can find no -other school in which to learn the grand lesson of endurance and -continuance in well-doing; there, perhaps, it would not be impossible to -understand the messages dear Sunlight delivers every day to our -unappreciating, slow-hearing minds. - -Notwithstanding all our boasted democracy, there is scarcely a being on -the face of the earth who embraces with quite such heartiness its -principles, and so understands its precepts as—Sunlight. How graciously -her hand is laid on the matted locks of those children of want; how -lovingly and earnestly is her kiss imprinted on their toil-grimmed -faces—how radiantly her smile envelops them. Ah! well-a-day! would -there were in human hearts as much of genuine love! No sham-tenderness, -nor aristocratic, cold-blooded, _repelling_ fondness, is there in her -embracing, stronger than a _human_ heart’s beating is that which -proclaims the life that is in _her_! - -See now in this other place, where helpless orphans are collected and -cared for, children whose parents have died and left them helpless and -dependent on the bounty of the world; Sunlight has not forgotten them -either. Kindly hands and charitable hearts have gathered these little -ones from hovels of sin, and sorrow, and shame, and nurtured by the good -and the wise, in early manhood and womanhood they will be prepared to -struggle for themselves, and to bear their own life-burden. - -Day after day the affectionate Sunlight visits these assembled little -ones, and adds her cheerful blessing to that which God has already -pronounced on them, whose love has prompted them out of their abundance -to support and comfort the destitute and friendless. - -And there is another place teeming with human life, where this good -friend of earth and her children comes daily, but where there are very -few who may welcome her smiling approach, but few to know certainly of -her departure when she is gone. This is the home for the blind. - -How many are the fair young faces and graceful, gentle forms and -innocent hearts, how frequent are the kindly words in that place; and -yet, alas! how small the power to see and know the beauty of the world; -how few the eyes to behold the approaching of the fair daughter of the -sun! The blind live there, but Sunlight does not shun them! When she -enters their dwelling-place unsummoned, and only attended by that glory -with which God has adorned her, they may, it is a fact they often do, -know that something blessed and heavenly is nigh, because they feel it -in their enlivening senses, in the warmth of her caressing. But they may -not touch her hand; and when they speak to her she does not answer them; -and so they know she is not a mortal, but a spirit who may not speak -with an audible voice to them—a spirit though which loves and blesses -them! - -Let us follow on further in her path, where polished doors are fastened -against the intruding world. It is a home of fashion, but from the -parlor windows no token of life are seen. The blinds are closed—the -dwelling looks uninhabited. But there _is_ life within, ay, and death, -too! Around the silver door-knob, and circling the door-bell handle, -where the hands of the wealthy and gay have so often rested, (but very -rarely those of the poor and needy,) there is wound a scarf of crape, -and mournfully the death-token flutters in the morning air. For two days -scarcely a form has entered those doors; the sufferers within, however -much they may have rejoiced in display in former days, have no wish that -there may be spectators to their sorrow. - -Yet there is one—a not often heeded guest, though a seldom failing -one—who comes to them now they cannot shut her out; she longs to utter -some soothing and consoling word. She penetrates to the very scene of -their grief. She looks into the silent chamber where the father and -mother are weeping over their only child—the child of whom they had -made an idol, whom God, who hath said “thou shalt have _no_ gods but -me,” hath taken away from them. They have with their own hands laid -their child in her coffin, ere long they will see her borne away from -them forever; so it is with unutterable sorrow they stand beside that -little one and gaze on her pale face. The blinds are closed, and the -curtains partly drawn, but through an open shutter the Sunlight enters -the darkened room, and drawing near to the bereaved parents, she lays -her hand, oh, so gently on the forehead of the child! - -The clustering curls which fall upon that brow seem almost illuminate -beneath the pressure of that hand—and the mother’s tears fall faster as -she looks on the beautiful little one that will be so soon hidden away -from the pleasant day-light and the hopes of life. But as the father -looks, his sorrow is abated, his voice is lifted up, there is hope in -its tone, he says, “Mary, let us weep no longer over our child, her -spirit has already won a brighter crown than that the sunlight lays upon -her head.” - -And the mother’s grief becomes less wild, and humble is the voice with -which she makes answer, - -“God help us, it was his to take away who gave.” - -And now with more of submission under their affliction, with much of -hope that cheered even in the midst of their bereavement, they will see -their child laid in the funeral-vault to meet their eyes no more until -the resurrection morning—and with chastened hearts, and more -thoughtfully they will tread the path set before them, feeling convinced -and thankful that sorrow has taught them a lesson of wisdom they never -could have learned in a life like that they had lived. - -Through the opened Gothic windows of the old church she is speeding, for -what? To make beautiful by her presence the temple of the Lord. See! -before the altar there is gathered a little group, and a maiden and a -youth are answering the binding, “I will,” to a question than which none -more fraught with deep and solemn meaning was ever propounded to mortal -man and woman. - -The bridegroom has placed upon his companion’s finger the uniting -ring—she is his wife. You see she has arrayed herself gayly; it is the -great festival of her life—may it not prove the adornment has been for -the ceremony of the sacrifice of all the dearest and best hopes of her -trusting young heart! Around these happy ones are gathered their most -familiar, dearest friends; before them the “solemn priest,” and, hark! -with mingled words of warning, and of counsel, and of blessing, he -pronounces them now man and wife. And upon the newly-wedded ones is -resting the congratulatory smile of Sunlight! She bids them joy in their -love, and gives the bridegroom the comforting assurance that his will -not prove a cross and turbulent bride, for his wedding-day is calm and -bright, and over all the sky there is not one speck of cloud! - -But why does the Sunlight linger when the bridal party has gone forth? -She is about the altar and chancel, as though there were others yet who -would need her presence and her blessing there. - -Ah! there are steps—another group is approaching the awaiting “holy man -of God.” A woman comes, bearing in her arms a child for baptism. The -font containing the regenerating waters is there in readiness. Troops of -invisible angels are nigh to listen to and make record of the solemn -vows now to be made, and the spirit of the living God is there also, a -witness, merciful in his omnipotence. - -There are but few who accompany the woman—she comes in no pomp and -state to dedicate her child to God in baptism; neither is the offering -she brings adorned with the pride of wealth. The mother is poor—the -child an heir of poverty. But will He therefore spurn the gift? “He that -cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” - -The father of the child, the husband of the mother is dead—and her -widow’s weeds but “faintly tell the sorrow of her heart.” Therefore it -is with so much the more trustful confidence she has come with her child -to the altar, she will give him into the watchful care of the Almighty -Father of the fatherless! With what a solemn earnest voice she takes -upon herself, for the child, the vow of renouncement of the world and -its sinful desires; and when the sign of the cross is laid upon the brow -of her infant, and the holy waters which typify its regeneration are -poured upon his head, it is with heartfelt gratitude she lifts her heart -to heaven, with heartfelt confidence she implores his watchful love and -care. And all the while on the uncovered head of the child the glance of -the sunlight has rested, as if in token of the acceptance of the -offering the mother has made, in token that the blessing and mercy of -God would be upon that child for whom a holy vow was registered in -heaven, which he must one day redeem, or else pay the fearful penalty. - -And now the mother with her child and friends have left the church, and -a sacred quiet reigns there once more; yet the priest lingers by the -altar, still arrayed in his robes of office, and Sunlight also remains. - -And, hark! once more the “deep-toned bell” is ringing now—tolling -mournfully—no wedding-peal of joy is that, from out the heart of the -strong iron is rung the stern tale that another mortal hath put on -immortality! Now they come, a long and silent train, and foremost move -the bearers treading heavily; “it is a man they bear”—an aged man, the -measure of whose cup of life was well filled, reaching even the brim; -and following after them are the children, and grandchildren, and -great-grandchildren of the deceased, and the procession is closed by his -many friends and neighbors. Of all that lengthened train there is not -one who set out on the path of life with the dead man. One by one his -early companions passed away, there are none who retain a recollection -of that aged face when it was smooth, and of those locks now so very -white and thin, as they were in earlier years; not one who shared the -hopes of his childhood with him—few who mingled with him in the scenes -remembered now as of the old, old time. Yet the mourners weep, and the -bells toll mournfully. - -The old man has finished his course with honor and with joy. Reverenced -and loved, he has gone down to the grave—no, I must not say that, he -has gone upward _to rest on the bosom of his Father_! In boyhood he was -wild, and fearless, and reckless—his manhood, generous and upright, -nobly redeemed his early days—and happy, and peaceful, and honorable, -was his “green old age.” And now he has “gone to his reward”—his race -well run, his labor all fulfilled, it seems strange that any should -weep. They have laid back the coffin-lid that the assembled people may -once more look on their venerated friend. Oh, how peacefully he sleeps, -and lovingly, as on the unconscious infant, the Sunlight, that messenger -of consolation, looks upon the calm, cold face, and the mourner’s grief -is stayed as they behold the brightness which once more illuminates -those lifeless features. - -Upon the infant, dedicated to God in the days when he lies helplessly at -the portal of life, on the maiden and the youth, entering on a state of -existence, either supremely blessed or supremely cursed in its -_eventuation_, and on the dead old man, whose race so long, and of -mingled pleasure and hardship, is over at last; on these the faithful -Sunlight has pronounced her blessing within the walls of the old church. -But now all the human beings have gone away, the minister with the -funeral train to the burial, and the sexton has fastened the -church-doors and gone too; but still the Sunlight remains, and it seems -as though she were kneeling before the altar now, craving God’s blessing -on all those who have this day stood within His courts, and before His -altar, brought there by joy or sorrow to rejoice or to weep. - -Not, however, within the sanctity of walls alone does the Sunlight make -herself visible. Through byways, and in the open street, where the -stream of life goes rushing on violently, does she tread, brightening up -by her presence dark and dismal corners, and enlivening the gloomiest -and dreariest places. - -In the intervening places between the high brick dwellings and stores -she stations herself; there, like a priestess, she stands to pronounce a -benediction on all who pass by her. On the blind old beggar, led by a -little child, who pause a moment to rest in the sunshiny place, for they -have walked on wearily amid a heartless crowd, that had but little -feeling for the poverty-stricken old man, whom Heaven deprived of sight; -and on the gaudily decked form of the shameless woman, as a reproach and -condemnation; on the proud, hard man, whose haughty head and iron heart -care little for the Sunlight or for Sorrow, whose honorable name has -safely borne him through the committal of sins and crimes, which, had he -been poor and friendless, would have long ago secured for him a safe -place among convicts and outlaws! Little recks _he_ of Sunlight. A -blessing so freely bestowed on all, as is her smile, is not what he -covets; so through shade and light he hastens, and soon enough he will -arrive at the bourne. What bourne? - -There go by the wandering minstrels, men from Scotland with their -bagpipes—Italians with hurdy-gurdy—girls with tamborines, and boys -with violins and banjoes—there are professors of almost all kinds of -instrumental music, and vocal too, a great many of them there are, but -sure, almost all of them, of winning coppers from some who would bribe -them into a state of quietude, and from other some, harmony-loving -souls, who delight in the dulcet sounds such minstrels ever awaken and -give utterance to! And Sunlight blesses _them_! - -And here comes an humble, tired-looking woman—a school teacher she is, -whose days are one continued round of wearying, and most monotonous -action. You would scarcely err in your first guess as to her -vocation—it speaks forth in her “dress a little faded,” but so very -neat, but more loudly still in that penetrating glance of her eye, and -in the patient expression of her features. Though she is evidently -hurried, for she has been proceeding at a most rapid pace along the -streets, you could tell she has some appreciation of the glory of -Sunlight, for how she lingers whenever she comes near the places -enlivened by her presence! Her feet, too, press less heavily the -pavement, perhaps she feels as though she were treading on sacred -ground! - -Then, there comes another, a little, frail, youthful creature, with -bright, black eyes, (which have obviously a quick recognization power -for “every thing pretty,”) a person of quick and nervous movement, a -seamstress. She has not time often to pause and take note of the -beautiful. Her weeks have in their long train of hours only twelve of -daylight she may call her own! She, too, steps slowly, almost -reverently, over the flags where the princess is stationed, and with an -irresistible sigh thinks of earlier and happier days, when a merry -country child she rejoiced in her delightful freedom, though clad she -was then in most unfashionable garments, and almost she regretted the -day that sent her into the great, selfish city to fashion dresses for -the rich and gay. Poor girl! before she has half passed over the shady -place which succeeds the glimpse of Sunlight, she has forgotten the hope -which for a moment found refuge in her breast, wild as it was, that one -day she might indeed go into the country again, and find there a welcome -and a home; for must not Miss Seraphina’s and Miss Victoria’s dresses be -finished that very night in time for the grand party; and the flounces -are not nearly trimmed, and numberless are the “finishing touches” yet -to be executed. - -Alas! before night comes again, when she will go alone, and in the -darkness, through the noisy street, in her weariness and stupidity, (for -continued labor, you know very well, reader, will make the brightest -mind stupid and weak,) she will hurry to her bed, forgetful of her -bright dream of the morning, unmindful of her prayers, in the haste to -close her weak and tired eyes. But in the morning, perhaps, the Sunlight -will give to the overworked girl another gleam of hope, another -blessing. - -And now goes by an interesting, white-gloved youth, fresh from “the -bandbox,” as you perceive. Let him pass on; for there is but little -chance that Sunlight will be recognized by _him_, and so _we_ will not -waste our comments, for could he even see where lies the brightness, I -cannot say but the inevitable eye-glass might be raised, and such a -glance of idiocy and impudence be directed toward the gentle daughter of -the mighty king, as would warrant her in annihilating him at once with a -powerful _sunstroke_! - -Here comes another, a benevolent, but solemn-featured, portly gentleman, -who seems in musing mood, for he goes slowly along with head bent down. -He is a judge, proceeding toward the scene of his trying duties, feeling -the responsibility which rests upon him, and nerving himself to meet the -solemn and affecting scenes and circumstances which may await him. Oh -may it be that as he passes by those small illuminated places, that a -stronger voice than he has ever heard before may find utterance in his -heart, charging him to remember that the highest attributes of the -Heavenly Judge are mercy and love, and that only as he employs them in -his decisions, can he justly imitate his Divine prototype! - -And now there is another going by, whose disappointment is legibly -written on his face. Either of two doleful things has happened to him. -His prayers have been unheard by his “lady-love,” and she looks coldly -upon him, or—scarcely less to be dreaded climax—his first attempt at -literature has met with unqualified failure. Let him but bear in mind -that “faint heart never won fair lady,” or honor in the “literary -world;” let him take one intelligent look at the sweet Sunlight, as so -patiently she stands there before him, and small will be the danger of -his ultimate defeat. - -But—but how fast the crowd increases—it is growing late, and between -the increasing crowd of fashionables, and of people of all sorts and -conditions, we are really in danger of being soon unable to distinguish -who of all the host stop for the blessing of Sunlight, and who unmindful -pass by her. And indeed it were an endless task to impose on one’s self -the attempt to speak, or even to think, of the myriads who in their -hours of sorrow, despondency, tribulation or joy, have had occasion to -be thankful for the cheerful smile of glorious Sunlight! - -Her mission—ay, never was there one so blest—and never was there so -faithful a missionary! She comes with a message of love for the whole -world! How perfectly she has learned that lesson taught her by our own, -as well as her Almighty Father! How nobly has she obeyed his sublime -precepts, how truly is she the joy-diffuser of the human race! - -And now what remaineth to be said? But one thing only. - -In a necessarily more contracted sphere of action may there not from -_our_ faces, and _our_ hearts, go forth a beam of light that shall be -powerful to cheer up a desponding spirit, or to encourage a drooping -heart, or to give comfort to a sorrowing soul, or to increase the faith -and courage of a lonely life? - -Cannot the sunshine of a human face, in the dark forest of a sad heart, -have power to make the old trees bud, and the birds to sing, and the -violets to spring up and bloom, and the ice-bound streamlets to go free? -From many a love-lit eye, from many a brow from which tender hands have -erased the record of care, from many a rejoicing heart lightened of its -dread burden, there comes to me an answer, “Yes—oh yes!” - -Blessed forever be the sweet Sister of Charity, the angelic, untiring -Missionary, the lovely princess—daughter of the Sun!—and, also, -blessed forever be that human heart which doth not disdain to learn the -heavenly lesson Sunlight teaches, ay, twice blessed of God, and of man! - - * * * * * - - - - - THERMOPYLÆ. - - - BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD. - - - ’Twas night; the gleaming starlight fell - On helmets flashing high; - The glancing spears and torrent swell - Of armed men sweeping by. - - No clarion’s voice was on the breeze, - No trumpet’s stormy blast; - The hollow moan of distant seas - Was echoed as they past. - - With measured step and stealthy tread, - In stern and proud array, - They sought the camp in silence dread - Where the slumb’ring Persian lay. - - Then long and loud the battle-shout - Rung on the startled air, - There was fitful torch-light flashing out - And sudden arming there. - - The shriek of death and wild despair, - And hasting to and fro, - When like the lion from his lair - The Spartan charged the foe. - - Then hand to hand and spear to spear - The hostile armies stood; - The tempest’s note rung loud and clear - And shook the solitude. - - And ’mid the fearful tide of fight, - Where thousands met to die, - The lances gleamed athwart the night - Like lightning in the sky. - - On! on they swept their land to bless, - And fast around their way - The Persians gathered numberless - As leaves in summer’s day. - - Morn dawned upon that battle-field, - And shivered spear and lance, - And banner torn and broken shield - Reflected every glance. - - But where were they—those patriots bold, - Of bright and fearless eye? - Each noble heart in death was cold, - Each spirit in the sky. - - Fair Greece! of glorious deeds the clime - By dauntless valor wrought; - Of daring minds, and souls sublime, - The pioneers of thought! - - No marvel that thy skies should boast - A fairer, sunnier blue— - Departed day illumes the west - With many a radiant hue. - - * * * * * - - - - - LOST TREASURES. - - - BY P. D. T. - - - I am coming, I am coming, when this fitful dream is o’er, - To meet you, my beloved ones, on that immortal shore, - Where pain and parting are unknown, and where the ransomed blest - Shall welcome treasures left on earth, to Heaven’s eternal rest. - - I am with you, I am with you, in the visions of the night, - I feel each warm hand pressing mine, I meet each eye of light. - Oh these are precious seasons! they bring you back to me, - But morning dawns, and with it comes the sad reality. - - I dare not trust my thoughts to dwell on blessings that were mine, - Or, “hoping against hope,” believe one ray of joy can shine - Across my path, so dreary now, that late was bright and gay, - But, meteor-like, hath left more dark the track which marked its way. - - Yet I feel that thou art near me! my guardian angels thou, - Who fain would chase all sorrow and sadness from my brow. - For thou hadst strewn my pathway so thick with thornless flowers, - I quite forgot that _Death_ could come to revel in our bowers. - - But now, I’m oh so lonely! my “household gods” are gone, - And though my path’s a dreary one, I still must journey on. - Yet Faith steps forth and whispers—Time flies, look up and see, - For in his wake swift follows on a blessed eternity. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE BROTHER’S TEMPTATION. - - - BY SYBIL SUTHERLAND. - - - CHAPTER I. - -“You look sad to-night, Alice,” was the remark of Mr. Colman as his -young wife entered the sitting-room, and took a seat beside him with a -countenance expressive of unusual dejection; “and where is Maggie this -evening that you have been obliged to take upon yourself the duty of -nursery-maid to our little ones?” - -“Maggie has gone upon an errand of mercy—to watch over a sick and -suffering fellow creature,” replied Mrs. Colman. “It is a long story,” -she added, in answer to the look of inquiry which her husband cast upon -her, “but I will endeavor to relate it if you will listen to it -patiently. This morning, Harry, after you had left home, I resolved to -set forth in search of a seamstress who was making some dresses for our -little girl. She had failed to bring them home at the time appointed, -and as I had never employed her before, and knew nothing of her -character, I felt rather anxious concerning the safety of the materials -I had given her to work upon, and determined to go to the dwelling which -she had described as her residence and learn the cause of her -disappointing me. The house was in a miserable street some distance from -here, and I hurried along till I came to it. It was a wretched-looking -dwelling, such as none but the very poorest class would have chosen. The -door stood open, and several ragged little Irish children were playing -upon the steps. I inquired of them if Mrs. Benson, the seamstress lived -there? They did not seem to recognize the name—but they told me that a -young woman who took in sewing hired the back rooms of the third-story. -Following their direction, I ascended three flights of stairs and found -myself at the door of the apartment, where I knocked, and a faint voice -bidding me enter, I unclosed the door and stood upon the threshold. What -a strange and unexpected sight now met my gaze! Upon the floor, almost -at my feet as I entered, lay a young and very beautiful girl apparently -bereft of all consciousness. She looked so thin and pale that at first I -thought her dead, and starting back in horror I was about to leave the -place, when a feeble voice, the same which told me to come in, besought -me to stay. Looking round to discover whence it proceeded, I saw the -emaciated form of a man reclining upon a couch in a distant part of the -room. Hastily I approached him, for I felt it to be my duty to render -what aid I could. As I drew nearer to his bedside, I read the tale of -confirmed disease in that pallid face and in the wild sunken eyes whose -gaze met my own. In a few words he informed me that the maiden who lay -there senseless was his daughter. While busily engaged at her work about -an hour previously, she had fallen from her seat and remained thus in a -state of unconsciousness. He said that his limbs being palsied he was -unable to help her, and so he had lain upon his couch agonized by the -thought that his child was dead, or that she might die for want of -proper assistance. And he now besought me to endeavor to discover if -there were any signs of life, and if possible to restore her to her -senses. The appeal was not in vain. I turned from him to his inanimate -daughter, and raising that light and fragile form in my arms, placed her -upon a couch in a small closet-like apartment adjoining the one I had -first entered. For a long time every means of restoration were vainly -tried—but at length my strenuous efforts were rewarded, and the young -girl once more unclosed her eyes. But she evidently recognized nothing -about her—those dark and strangely beautiful orbs glared wildly around, -while a few broken, incoherent sentences burst from her lips, and as she -sunk again upon the pillow the bright fever flushes rushed to her cheek, -and I knew that her brain was suffering. Great was her parent’s joy that -she once more breathed—but my heart was full of sadness, for I could -not help feeling that her life was in jeopardy. It was my wish to have a -physician summoned, but I knew not how this was to be done, for I dared -not leave my charge, and there was no one near to help me. At this -moment I heard footsteps in the hall, and quickly opening the door, -beheld a boy ascending the stairs. The promise of a piece of silver -easily procured his assent to go for the nearest doctor, and accordingly -he set off, while re-entering the room I resumed my station by the sick -girl’s bedside. In a few minutes the physician arrived and my suspicions -of the nature of the young girl’s disorder were confirmed, for he -pronounced it to be a fever of the brain, and said that his patient -would require constant watching and careful nursing. The father listened -anxiously and attentively to the doctor’s words. His countenance fell as -he caught the last sentences, though he said not a word. It was not till -after giving his prescription, the physician left, promising to call -early on the morrow, that he spoke what was passing in his mind. - -“‘Julie must die!’ he said, bowing his head upon his hands, while -bitter, hopeless anguish was depicted upon his face, ‘for I have no -means of obtaining for her the care she needs.’ It was all that passed -his lips, but it spoke volumes to my heart, and my resolution was -instantly taken. I told him that I would not desert his child, that I -would continue with her part of the day, and when I was obliged to leave -that I would send some one to take my place. Oh, Harry! if you could -only have seen how grateful that poor invalid looked! Most amply repaid -was I by that glance for whatever I had undertaken. I remained with the -sick girl several hours longer, and in the intervals when she slumbered, -I had time to observe the appearance of things around me. The furniture -was mean and scanty. There were but two chairs in the room, and the -carpet was worn almost threadbare. Every thing betokened extreme -poverty—but neatness was plainly perceptible in the arrangements of the -apartment, and I felt from the appearance of its occupants that they had -seen more prosperous days. A book lay upon a table close at hand, I took -it up, and discovered it to be a volume of Bryant’s poems. On looking -over the pages, I found several of the most beautiful passages marked. -Upon one of the fly-leaves was written, ‘To Julie—from her father.’ The -book was evidently the young girl’s property. There was also a small -portfolio of drawings upon the table, which evinced signs of both talent -and cultivation. For an hour after the physician’s departure the parent -of Julie—for by her name I may as well call her—showed little -disposition to converse. He seemed exhausted by the emotions of the -day—but I knew that though he said nothing, his gaze was often upon me -when he imagined that I did not observe him. At last he roused himself -to answer some inquiries which I thought it necessary to make. He told -me that he was very poor, and that for more than a year, during which -his infirmity had appeared and increased, his daughter had maintained -him by the proceeds of her needle. He said also that two years -previously he had resided at Baltimore as one of its wealthiest -merchants—but having failed under circumstances that cast a cloud upon -his character, though he was in reality innocent of intentional wrong, -he had left the city of his birth and hastened with Julie, his only -child, to New York, where he would be sure of never more meeting the -scornful gaze of those who had been his friends ere misfortune overlook -him. Here he hoped to procure employment—but fate seemed against him. -Shortly after his arrival in this city, he was seized with a dangerous -illness which left him in his present helpless condition, and his lovely -and accomplished child found herself very unexpectedly thrown upon her -own resources for her support and that of her invalid parent. Bravely -for many months had she borne the burden, but continued anxiety -concerning the means of obtaining life’s necessaries had at last done -its work—and in the delirium of fever, the fair and noble girl now -tossed restlessly upon her bed, a mere wreck of what she had once been. - -“This brief sketch of their history, as you may imagine, dear Harry, -interested me greatly. And when, at its conclusion, the speaker again -expressed his fears for the future and his doubts as to the recovery of -his child, for whom he had no power to provide necessary attendance, I -again assured him that I would watch over her until she became quite -well, and that after this I would endeavor to find some more healthy and -suitable employment for her than that in which she had latterly been -engaged. - -“Toward the close of the afternoon, being desirous of going home for -awhile, I dispatched the boy whom I have once before mentioned, for -Maggie, that she might supply my place as attendant upon the sick Julie, -until evening, when I proposed to bear her company and resume my post at -the bedside. She came, and her sympathies were soon all enlisted by the -tale which I hurriedly repeated to her. But she decidedly opposed my -wish to return—reminded me of my late indisposition, and declaring that -I was not strong enough to bear the fatigue of sitting up all night, -insisted upon being allowed to exercise her skill as nurse without any -other assistance. I thanked her for her consideration, while I felt that -she was right. So I left her and proceeded home, where, as you may -suppose, I was welcomed most joyfully by little Willie and his sister, -who had mourned incessantly over mamma’s protracted absence. - -“And now, Harry, that I have finished my somewhat lengthy narrative, -tell me whether you approve of what I have done and promised to do?” - -“Certainly, dearest Alice,” replied Mr. Colman, affectionately pressing -the little hand that rested within his own, “while you continue to -follow, as you have hitherto done, the dictates of your own pure, loving -heart, I can never do aught but applaud you. The present objects of your -benevolence, are I am sure from the account, well worthy of whatever you -may do for them, and I would advise you to persevere in your efforts for -their welfare. But you quite forgot to tell me, my dear, if you -discovered in your _protégé_ the seamstress for whom you were -searching.” - -“No, indeed,” she replied, while her countenance wore a look of -vexation, “_my_ seamstress was a very different sort of a being from -this beautiful Julie. Nor do I think that I shall ever discover her, for -just before I returned home I made inquiries as to whether a person -answering her description lived in that house, and was assured that no -one of that name had ever dwelt there. How foolish I was to trust those -dresses to an entire stranger.” - -“And pray what may be the name of the family whose history has -interested you so deeply?” asked Mr. Colman. - -“The father’s name is Malcolm—Walter Malcolm, as he informed me. With -the daughter’s I believe that I have already acquainted you.” - -“Walter Malcolm! Julie Malcolm! And you say they are from Baltimore?” As -he spoke Mr. Colman’s cheek grew suddenly pale, and rising from his seat -he paced the apartment with a hasty and agitated step. - -“Why, what is the matter, Harry?” exclaimed his wife in a tone of the -deepest solicitude, as she sprung to his side, “pray tell me what has -moved you thus?” But it was some moments ere he seemed able to reply. At -length with emotion he said— - -“Alice, what if I were to tell you that this man—this Walter Malcolm is -my brother—the brother who in my early youth drove me away from his -luxurious home, an orphan and unprotected, to seek my fortune in the -wide, wide world?” Alice Colman started and raised her eyes wonderingly -to her husband’s face, and after a brief silence he resumed with a -sternness unusual to him— - -“In that hour, Alice—in that hour of utter desolation, when lonely and -uncared for I left my brother’s roof forever, a fierce, burning desire -for revenge took possession of my soul. In the first bitterness of -despair I called upon Heaven to avenge my wrongs. I wished that Walter’s -wealth might take to itself wings—that one day he might come to me for -bread; and I resolved were this ever the case, to give him—a stone! My -desire has been fulfilled, and my proud and unfeeling brother is now a -beggar at my door!” - -He paused—while his wife shuddered and looked appealingly up into his -face. - -“Harry!” she exclaimed in a low, earnest tone, “you surely do not mean -that you will not forgive the sorrow your brother’s conduct once caused -you—that you will now look exultingly upon his woes, and turn a deaf -ear to the wants of his sweet and suffering child?” - -The reproving expression of the dear face now anxiously upturned to his, -at once recalled the husband to a sense of error, and drawing the form -of the beloved one closer to his side, he said— - -“Oh! how fervently should I thank Heaven who has given to me such a -monitor in the hour of temptation! Pardon me, my Alice, if by giving way -to impulse I have wounded your sensitive spirit, and that in the moment -when passion held its sway, I slighted the divine lesson of forgiveness, -through your influence first impressed upon my soul. Nay, dearest, look -not thus surprised, for it was really by your means that the wish to -quell the thirst for revenge upon my brother, entered my heart; and if -you will listen a few seconds I can explain to you the words that at -present may well seem mysterious. You will doubtless remember, Alice, -that some months before our marriage, I experienced a severe fit of -illness. One pleasant Sabbath evening shortly after I was declared -convalescent, I was reclining upon a sofa in the sitting-room at your -uncle’s residence. My spirits were just then very much depressed—I felt -inwardly fretful and uneasy—and as is not uncommon at such a time, many -little circumstances which before had been almost forgotten, rose up in -my mind, and woke anew in my bosom sensations according to their nature, -of pain, anxiety, or indignation. Among other things came forcibly to -view the memory of the grievous wrong I had received at the hands of him -who should have been a parent to me; and a feeling of the deepest hatred -toward my brother stole to my heart, together with a hope that at some -future time a chance might be mine of returning him measure for measure -of the unkindness which he had so unsparingly dealt out to me. - -“At that instant, Alice, you re-entered the room from which you had been -a few minutes absent, and at the request of your uncle, opened the -family Bible and began your usual Sabbath-evening duty of reading a -series of chapters from the holy book. There was a passage in the first -which you read that affected me strangely—for it came as a reproof from -Heaven delivered to me through the medium of one of earth’s angels. It -was the following—‘Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto -wrath, for it is written, vengeance is mine; I will repay saith the -Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him -drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.’ The -sentences awed me, coming upon my ear as they did at a period when my -spirit needed the precious warning and rebuke contained in them, and I -breathed a silent prayer to Heaven for strength to enable me to heed it. -The hour of my trial has arrived, and to-day have I again felt the -promptings of the tempter. You cannot imagine with what force these old -feelings have been driven back upon my soul, but, Alice, your voice has -once more stilled the tempest, and I know that I have passed the ordeal -in safety.” - -Harry Colman ceased, and this time as his gaze met that of his companion -he saw that her eyes were full of tears—but they were tears of grateful -joy. For a little while there was silence between them, but at length -Mr. Colman continued: - -“Let me recount to you, Alice, as briefly as possible, a few -circumstances connected with my early history. I have never done so -before, because the effort was a painful one, and there was no exact -necessity for the repetition. As you are aware, I was so unfortunate as -to lose my father when I was a mere infant, and my mother lived only -till I had attained my twelfth year. I was the child of her second -marriage, and she had one son by a previous union who was many years my -senior. At the period of my mother’s death, my brother, Walter Malcolm, -had been married nearly five years, and was now a widower and the father -of one little girl, who had just reached her third summer. Upon her -death-bed my parent left me beneath his care, desiring Walter to attend -to my wants and to be kind and gentle to me when she was no more. As -soon as the funeral was over, my brother took me with him to his own -dwelling. I was now entirely dependent upon him for maintenance. Walter -Malcolm was wealthy, for a large estate had descended to him from his -father, who had also left my mother a life-annuity, which while she -lived had supported us. At her death I was of course unprovided for, for -my own father had possessed no worldly goods to bequeath me. My new home -seemed very different to me from the hearth of my early, sunny -childhood. I was lonely and desolate—for between Walter and myself -brotherly love had never existed. Not that _I_ would have denied him his -meed—but I was too proud to award the gift that I was confident would -never be valued, for my memory could not boast a single instance wherein -he had evinced for me the slightest regard. Nay, I even felt that I was -an object of dislike to him, though I knew not the cause. During my -mother’s life I had been greatly indulged, and it was scarcely to be -wondered at that I was frequently very wayward. Upon such occasions, a -word of love had always been sufficient to control my passionate nature; -but when the sweet affectionate tones that ever had power to calm me, -were hushed in the tomb, my faults were met by my new guardian with -harshness and contempt, and this never failed to rouse a spirit of -continued opposition. There was but one voice in my brother’s household -that ever spoke lovingly to me. It was that of his child—the little -Julie. From the first hour of my residence beneath Walter’s roof, the -little creature had conceived a passionate attachment to me, preferring -my presence to that of her nurse or even her father. And, as you may -imagine, Alice, I did not slight her proffered affection, and during the -three years that we dwelt together the little one was the sole sunbeam -upon my shadowed life-path. How gladly did I greet her graceful bounding -step! How dear was the sound of her clear ringing laughter as I joined -in her sports!—and more precious still were the moments when weary of -play, she would steal to my side, and twining her tiny arms about my -neck, murmur forth, in lisping accents, her sweet child-like terms of -endearment. - -“I had reached my fifteenth year when the incident occurred that -separated me from my brother. An error was laid to my charge of which I -was really guiltless—and as I proudly refused to acknowledge and repair -the fault—Walter Malcolm turned me from his dwelling, declaring that -thenceforth and forever he disowned me! Time was merely given me to -collect a few little articles that I could really call my own—I was not -allowed to bid farewell to the child whom I yearned to look upon once -more before I went—and so, an outcast, I passed from that stately -mansion. Alice, I dare not linger over a description of my sensations in -that hour of anguish—for it might perhaps arouse them again within my -soul. You know the rest of my history—the circumstance of my adoption -by your uncle who was then visiting Baltimore, and first beheld me in a -store where I had entered in quest of employment. To him I confided the -facts relating to my former life; he pitied and sympathized with me, and -bore me with him to his own home in this city, and from that day was in -every respect to the lonely orphan all that a kind and generous parent -could be to his only son.” - - - CHAPTER II. - -The morning succeeding the events last recorded, at an early hour, Mrs. -Colman was on her way to the dwelling of the now destitute and infirm -Walter Malcolm. She had new motives for the advancement of her -charitable purposes, and her interest in the sick girl had deepened -since she knew her to be the one whose infant steps her own husband had -guided. Hastening up the stairs she knocked at the door, which was soon -opened by Maggie, who looked weary enough with the fatigue of the past -night. The young girl had been very restless, she said, and she believed -that the fever was rapidly progressing. “But is she not a beautiful -creature?” remarked Maggie to her mistress, as she bent over the couch -and parted the rich curls from the fevered brow, “ah, ma’am, I have -nursed many a one before this in sickness—but never a person whose -appearance so won upon me as hers has.” - -Alice Colman did not wonder at the observation—but as she now glanced -round the room she met the gaze of Julie’s father, and her morning -salutation to him was full of gentleness and sympathy. - -Through the whole of that day Mrs. Colman maintained her station in the -chamber of sickness and poverty. The physician came at the appointed -hour, and gave it as his opinion that Julie was growing rapidly worse -and that there were even doubts whether in any case her life would be -spared. Oh! how the thought of her dying affected Mrs. Colman. - -“Let every thing be done that may be of benefit to her,” she said -anxiously to the doctor, “spare no expense whatever if you think you can -by any means preserve her from the grasp of death. I will be answerable -for whatever remuneration you may require.” - -And not even content with his advice, she sent for her own family -physician determined to try all the means she could for the preservation -of the life of her husband’s niece. She noticed that Walter Malcolm -looked very pale all day, but attributed it to anxiety for his daughter. -He seemed too languid to converse—but once, as she handed him a glass -of water, he said—“Lady, Heaven will reward your kindness to the -suffering.” - -That evening when Alice Colman returned home, her husband surprised her -with the intelligence that Walter Malcolm was aware of her relationship -to him. Before she went there in the morning, Mr. Colman had advised her -on no account to allow his brother to suspect from whom he received the -needful aid, for he feared that Walter still entertained against him the -old feeling of hatred, and that it would awaken unpleasant emotions in -his heart if he knew that the brother he had deserted was now destined -to be his chief reliance. But the caution to his wife was unnecessary. -Walter Malcolm had made inquiries of Maggie concerning the family to -whom he was indebted, and from their minuteness Harry Colman was -confident that he had been recognised. And that his brother had not -forgotten his former aversion to him he deemed evident from the fact -that he had said nothing of his discovery, during the day, to Mrs. -Colman. The latter however thought differently. Julie’s father had -spoken his thanks for that draught of water too earnestly for her to -join in her husband’s belief, and she expressed her conviction that he -repented his past conduct, and that he merely wanted courage to confess -his penitence. - -But day after day passed on, and yet there was no allusion to the -subject on the part of Walter Malcolm. Meanwhile his daughter had passed -the crisis of the fever and was declared convalescent. If the appearance -of Julie Malcolm in the hour of delirium had attracted the fancy of -Alice Colman and her nurse, how much more were they drawn toward her -when her mind was freed from the chains that bound it—for gentle and -loving-hearted, her grateful spirit manifested itself in various little -touching ways toward those who had watched over her during her dangerous -illness. When she grew stronger and was able to enter into conversation, -a perfect understanding arose between Mrs. Colman and herself that they -were always to be friends. Alice Colman felt that she already loved -Julie dearly—and the latter was not slow in returning the affection of -one whose timely succor had saved her life. Still the young girl -suspected not that they were kindred by law as in heart. - -It was soon settled that when Julie became entirely recovered, she -should undertake the duties of governess to Mrs. Colman’s children, and -this new office was to afford her the means of support. A more suitable -residence had been sought by Alice Colman for Julie and her father, and -they were to remove into it as soon as the former had gained sufficient -strength to bear the fatigue. Two more weeks elapsed ere this last -project was effected—and they were then comfortably settled in their -new abode. - -And still there was no sign from Walter Malcolm that he knew of his -brother’s agency in the change wrought in his affairs. He was now -generally reserved when Mrs. Colman was near, and his countenance often -wore a deep shade of gloom. - - - CHAPTER III. - -The first day that Julie Malcolm felt equal to the exertion was spent at -the house of her new friend, and then it was that for the first time -since her childhood, Harry Colman beheld his niece. So strongly -impressed upon his mind was the recollection of her early fondness for -him, and the soothing influence which her winning, affectionate ways had -possessed over his spirit, that had he now obeyed the voice of impulse -he would fain have clasped Julie once more to his heart; for though he -now looked upon a beautiful and graceful maiden of eighteen, he could -scarcely view her in any other light than as the darling child whose -caresses had so often comforted him when greeted by every other voice -with coldness. Yet recalling the fact that their relationship could not -be breathed to her by himself, he was obliged to meet her with the -reserve of a perfect stranger. But all formality between them soon -vanished, and an hour after their introduction found them conversing -together with the ease of old acquaintanceship. Nor had Julie forgotten, -in her own frank earnest manner, to thank him again and again for the -services his family had rendered her father and herself—while her soft -dark eyes filled with tears as she spoke of the debt which by gratitude -only she could repay. Harry Colman longed to tell her that _he_ was the -debtor—and that by his wife’s attention to her, Julie had but been -rewarded for the love she had accorded him when all other hearts were -steeled against him. - -Mrs. Colman saw with delight her husband’s increasing predeliction for -his niece—for by renewing his former affection for Julie, she hoped to -make the young girl at some future day, the instrument of reconciliation -between the estranged brothers. - -The day of Julie’s visit to the Colmans was a happy one to all parties. -Even little Effie Colman and her brother Willie, though at first rather -shy of the lady, who, as they were told, was to initiate them into the -mysteries of the primer, had become very fond of her, and were -exceedingly loath to let her go when the time appointed for her return -home arrived. Then, with her arms entwined about Julie’s neck, little -Effie besought her to say when she was coming to them daily—and the -following week was accordingly named for the commencement of her career -as preceptress to the children. - - - CHAPTER IV. - -The morning agreed upon by Julie and Mrs. Colman for the beginning of -the former’s labors arrived, but the young girl did not appear. Knowing -well her eagerness to enter upon her new duties—the eagerness of a -noble spirit to throw off the yoke of dependence—Alice Colman might -well feel anxious at Julie’s non-fulfillment of her promise. For the -first time a thought crossed her mind that the suspicions of her husband -concerning his brother’s continued ill-feeling toward him, might be -just, and that Walter Malcolm had resolved to oppose his daughter’s -constant association with them. But not long would she allow herself to -imagine thus. Perhaps Julie was ill again—or some unforeseen -circumstances had prevented her coming. So Mrs. Colman determined to -wait till the following day, when if the object of her solicitude was -still absent, and she received no message from her, she felt that she -would then be more capable of judging the matter. - -It was not until near the close of the afternoon that she was relieved -of uncertainty upon the subject by the reception of a note from Julie. -The latter stated that her father was very ill of a dangerous fever, -brought on, as the physician averred, by distress of mind—and that it -was doubtful whether in his enfeebled condition he could live a week -longer. She added that only a few hours previously he had informed her -that their benefactress was the wife of his brother, and also of the -unfeeling treatment which that brother had received from him. And Julie -said that from the hour when he had learned the circumstance of their -relationship, remorse and the knowledge of his unworthiness to accept -assistance from the one whom he had injured, preyed upon her father’s -spirits, and at last caused the fever that threatened soon to terminate -his existence. His last earthly wish now was to see his brother and ask -forgiveness of the past—and Julie concluded by begging Mrs. Colman to -use all her influence in order to bring her uncle to her parent’s couch, -if it were possible, that very evening. - -And that evening Mr. Colman, accompanied his wife to the abode of Walter -Malcolm. The meeting between the brothers was a painful one. There was -mingled shame and penitential sorrow on the part of the elder, while the -countenance of the younger was expressive of the deepest agitation as he -stood by the bedside of him who had cast so dark a cloud upon his youth. -Harry Colman had yielded to the entreaties of Alice for this interview, -while he felt that it would have been wrong to have denied it—but it -was not until he looked upon Walter’s pallid face, and heard that once -stern and familiar voice supplicating forgiveness, even with the humble -avowal that it was undeserved, that the lingering spark of resentment -was entirely extinguished within his breast—and when he breathed the -much-desired word of pardon they were truly heart-felt. - -And by returning good for evil he had indeed “heaped coals of fire” upon -the head of his brother. - -“From your birth, Harry, you were the object of my bitterest envy and -hatred,” was the confession of Walter Malcolm, “for upon you was freely -lavished the love of that mother whose affection I had never possessed. -She had been forced by her family into a union with my father while her -heart was another’s—and when her husband died and she was free to wed -again, she married the one who had first gained her regard. This was the -key to your superior claim upon our mother’s love. I will not now blame -her for the wrong of partiality, though it was the basis of my demeanor -toward yourself. I should have had sufficient strength of mind to have -resisted its influence—but in this I was sadly deficient. To the last -hour of her life my mother’s chief thought was of you. Yes, even in her -dying moments her principal anxiety was for _your_ future happiness, -while there was but little reference to the welfare of her eldest child. -When she was no more, and you came to dwell beneath my roof, I scrupled -not openly to show the sentiments which during our parent’s life-time I -was obliged to conceal. And I had now an additional cause of dislike. I -secretly accused you of robbing me of the affection of my little girl, -who, as you will perhaps remember, always manifested a decided -preference for your society. I did not reflect that my manner toward her -was often cold and distant, and widely different from your own; and with -such feelings of jealousy concerning you in my heart, it was scarcely to -be wondered that I seized the first opportunity of ridding myself of -your presence. Though I knew you to be guiltless of the fault for which -I blamed you, I drove you from my dwelling, refusing from that moment to -own you as a brother. Nor did I then experience the least remorse for -the act—and during the years that followed I strove to forget that you -had ever existed. - -“It was only within the past twelvemonth, when surrounded by poverty, -and the victim of an incurable malady, that as I lay restlessly upon my -bed, the memory of my cruel conduct toward my innocent brother has -pressed heavily upon my mind. Often have I busied my brain with vain -conjectures respecting your fate—whether you still lived—and if you -had escaped the whirlpool of crime and sin within which the young and -unadvised are but too frequently engulfed. When I thought, as I -sometimes did, that you might have fallen—my sensations were those of -the most acute anguish, for I felt that the sin would all be mine, and -that at the judgment day I should be called to the throne of God to hear -him pronounce the fearful penalty for the murder of a brother’s soul. - -“At length, through the illness of my daughter, who was very -unexpectedly thrown upon the benevolence of your wife, I obtained from -your servant some information concerning the family to whom I owed so -much, and discovered in the hand stretched forth to aid my child, the -wife of my discarded brother. It would be vain to attempt a description -of my emotions as I learned this fact. Joy that you were not forever -lost, predominated—and then was added shame, and a consciousness of my -own unworthiness to receive the benefits which henceforth you daily -conferred upon me, as I felt that you must have recognized me—for I had -given to your wife an account of my previous life. Each successive -service lavished upon my family by your own, sunk like a weight of lead -upon my heart, while as I saw how generously you repaid me for the evil -I had committed against you, I longed to cast myself at your feet and -supplicate forgiveness. But one thought deterred me. It was the fear -that you might deem me actuated by interested motives—by the desire to -leave my daughter at my death under the care of her now wealthy uncle. -And so, for a time, I set aside the yearning for a reconciliation. But -it returned with double force when this, which I know will be my last -illness, came upon me, and I felt that I could not die happily without -hearing from your lips a pardon for my misdeed.” - -The weeping Julie had stood by the bedside listening attentively as her -father spoke, one hand resting affectionately in her uncle’s, while the -other was clasped in that of his wife. Though scarcely six years old -when Harry Colman was dismissed from his brother’s house, she had ever -retained a vivid recollection of the event. She remembered how -passionately she had wept when told by her nurse that she would probably -never again behold her favorite, and how indignant she had felt when -they said that it was owing to his own naughty conduct he had been sent -away—while her ignorance of the fact that her uncle’s name was not the -same as her father’s prevented a recognition of him when they again met. - - * * * * * - -Walter Malcolm survived a week after the scene just described. Having -made his peace with earthly objects, his last hours were devoted to -solemn preparations for a future state, looking trustfully for the mercy -of Him who listens kindly to the prayer of the penitent. His brother was -constantly with him till his eyes were forever closed in the -death-slumber; and from the day when the remains of her father were -borne to their last resting-place, the orphan Julie found a home with -her uncle, to whose pleasant hearth she was lovingly welcomed, while by -every kind and sympathizing attention her relatives strove to alleviate -the sorrow for a parent’s loss, which at first seemed almost -insupportable. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE UNSEPULCHRED RELICS. - - - BY MRS. L. S. GOODWIN. - - - “Far out of the usual course of vessels crossing that ocean, - they discovered an unknown island, covered with majestic trees. - The captain, with a portion of the crew, went on shore, and - after traversing its entire circumference without seeing a - solitary representative of the animal kingdom, were about to - return to their ship, when the skeleton of a man was found upon - the beach, and beside it lay a partially constructed boat.” - - Bleaching upon the sands that pave - An unknown islet strand, - Where surges bear from mermaid cave - The music of her band, - A clayey temple’s ruin lies— - Of that grand pile a part - Whereon the Architect Divine - Displayed His wondrous art; - Its tenant long since hath obeyed - The summons to depart. - - Mysterious, as dire, the doom - That cast a death-scene where - Deep solitude converts to gloom - What else were brightly fair: - Perchance wild waves that made a wreck - Of some ill-fated bark, - Giving his valiant comrades all - To feast the rav’nous shark, - Swept hither this lone mariner, - For misery a mark. - - Yon half-completed boat his lot - In mournful tones doth tell; - With what assiduous zeal he wrought - Upon that tiny cell, - Which promised o’er the billows broad - The worn one to convey - Within compassion’s genial realm, - Where woes find sweet allay; - ’Twere better e’en the sea should whelm - Than thus with want hold fray. - - Believe you not that in his pain, - His agony of soul, - Flew o’er the dark engirding main - The thoughts which spurn control? - Abiding with the cherished ones - Who blest a far-off home; - O how his sinking spirit yearned - To view once more that dome; - To hear young voices gayly shout - For joy that he had come. - - He mused how love with pining frame - Her grief-fount would exhaust, - As on time’s laggard wing there came - No tidings of the lost. - Ah! who may speak the bitter pangs - That exile’s bosom knew. - As, day by day, and hour by hour, - Faint, and yet fainter, grew - The hope that erst had nerved him on - His labor to pursue. - - To ply their wonted task, at length, - Refused his weary hands; - His form was stretched, bereft of strength. - Upon the burning sands. - Haply his latest wish besought - ’Mong kindred dead to lie; - But fate denied the boon, and death - Seized him ’neath stranger sky; - While mercy drew a mystic veil - ’Twixt him and friendship’s eye. - - * * * * * - - - - - REMINISCENCES OF A READER. - - - BY THE LATE WALTER HERRIES, ESQ. - - - Oh! the times will never be again - As they were when we were young, - When Scott was writing “Waverlies,” - And Moore and Byron sung; - When “Harolds,” “Giaours” and “Corsairs” came - To charm us every year, - And “Loves” of “Angels” kissed Tom’s cup, - While Wordsworth sipped small beer. - - When Campbell drank of Helicon, - And didn’t _mix_ his _liquor_; - When Wilson’s strong and steady light - Had not begun to flicker; - When Southey, climbing piles of books, - Mouthed “Curses of Kehama;” - And Coleridge, in his opium dreams, - Strange oracles would stammer; - - When Rodgers sent his “Memory,” - Thus hoping to delight all, - Before he learned his mission was - To give “feeds” and invite all; - When James Montgomery’s “weak tea” strains - Enchanted pious people, - Who didn’t mind poetic _haze_, - If through it loomed a _steeple_. - - When first reviewers teamed to show - Their judgment without mercy; - When Blackwood was as young and lithe - As now he’s old and pursy; - When Gifford, Jeffrey, and their clan, - Could fix an author’s doom, - And Keats was taught how well they knew - To kill _à coup de plume_. - - Few womenfolk were rushing then - To the Parnassian mount, - And seldom was a teacup dipped - In the Castalian fount; - Apollo kept no _pursuivant_, - To cry out “_Place aux Dames_:” - In life’s round game they held GOOD _hands_, - And didn’t strive for _palms_. - - Oh! the world will never be again - What it was when we were young, - And shattered are the idols now - To which our boyhood clung; - Gone are the _giants_ of those days, - For whom our wreaths we twined, - And _pigmies_ now _kick up a dust_ - To show the _march of mind_. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE GIPSY QUEEN. - - - BY JOSEPH R. CHANDLER. - - - [SEE ENGRAVING.] - -Power, consequence, importance, greatness, are relative terms; they -denote position or attainment, comparable with some other. And hence a -queen is a queen at the head of a band of gipsies as much as if she sat -upon a throne, at the head of a nation whose morning drum beats an -eternal _reveille_. It was therefore, and for another cause yet to be -told, that I lifted my hat with particular deference when I opened -suddenly upon the head woman of a gipsy tribe, as I was passing through -a small piece of woodland. Though, truth to say, I had been looking at -her for some time, an hour previous, as she was giving some directions -to one or two of her ragged and dirty train. Now I had known that woman -in other circumstances. I had seen her in the family, had heard her -commended by the men for her graceful movements, and berated by the -women for exhibiting those movements to the men, and being as free with -her tongue in presence of her female superiors as she had been with her -feet before her male admirers. But neither the admiration of the men nor -the rebuke of the women produced any effect. All that this woman -received from a long sojourn with the people of the village, was a -little loss of the darkness of the skin, and a pretty good understanding -of the wants and weaknesses of society. Everybody knew that she had been -left in exchange for a healthful child—and some years before it had -been discovered that the healthful child would be worth nothing to the -gipsies, and the gipsy girl would, at the first opportunity, return to -her “brethren and kindred according to the flesh.” And such was the -skill which she manifested on her return, such her ability to direct, -such her knowledge of the wants of the villagers, and her power to take -advantage of these wants, that she became the head of the tribe with -which she was associated, and might have directed numerous tribes, could -they have been collected for her guidance. - -I could not learn that there was much of a story connected with the life -of the queen, much indeed that would interest the general reader. But -she was a woman—and her heart, a mystery to the uninitiated, would, if -exposed, have been worth a world’s perusal. A woman’s heart—alas! how -few are admitted to loose the seals and open that secret volume! How -very few could understand the revelation if it were made. I could not, I -confess; and it is only when a peculiar light is thrown upon here and -there a pace, that I can acquire even a partial knowledge of what is -manifested. The Queen of the Gipsies, though elevated by right, and -sustained by knowledge, was no less a woman than a queen. She could and -did command male and female, old and young. She was treated with all -that marked distinction which, even among her rude people, continues to -be paid to preeminence. And while she sought to do the best for all, she -received all this homage with that ease, and that apparent absence of -wonder, which denote the right to distinction—this was a part of her -queenly character admirably sustained, natural, easy, dignified. But the -queen was a _woman_. I had heard her give orders, which sent certain of -the most active of the young, male and female, to the other side of the -village, and then she gave employment to the old and the young in the -moving hamlet, and seeing the first depart, and the last busy, she left -the camp, and took her way through the wood. I followed her and traced -her rapid steps to the burying-ground of the town, which stood a -distance from any dwelling. - -Seating myself out of view, I saw the queen walk directly to a recently -sodded grave, upon which she looked down for a moment, and then clasping -her hands wildly above her head she threw herself with a subdued cry -upon the grave. I was too far from her to distinguish all the words of -her lament, but they were wild and agonizing. - -After a short time the woman arose, and said with a distinct, clear -voice, “With thee and for thee I could have endured the mockery of their -boasted civilization, and suffered the ceremonies of their tame creed. -With thee and for thee I would have foregone my native tribe and my -hereditary rights. So persuasive was thy affection that I could have -forgotten—or at least would not have boasted—that I was of the -glorious race that knows no manacles of body or of mind, but what it -chooses to impose. But thou art gone, and with thee all my attraction to -the idle, wearisome life of thy race. I have returned to my people, and -I may lead them, and power and activity may for a time weaken my agony. -I need no longer sacrifice my love for my race—but yet one sacrifice I -will make, and thy grave shall be the altar. With thee my heart is -buried. To thee do I here swear an eternal fidelity—and year by year -will I lead my tribe hither, that I may pour out my anguish upon the sod -that rises above thee. And I may hope that such devotion may lead the -spirit that made our race for future happiness as for present freedom, -to give thee back to me when I enter on my world of changeless love and -glorious recompense.” - -Kneeling again, the Gipsy Queen kissed the grave, and gathered a few -blades of grass and one or two flowers, shook away the tears which she -had let fall upon them, and placing them in her bosom turned and left -the burying-place, and proceeded toward the camp. I left my position by -the other route, and passing through the wood I met her. Her face was -cleared from every cloud, no trace of a tear was evident; she had -prepared herself to meet her party in a way to excite no inquiry. - -[Illustration: THE GIPSEY QUEEN. - -Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine] - -The little that I knew of the Gipsy Queen previous to that day, and what -was told me by one who had lived in the village very long, I have set -down. I never saw her after I passed her in the woods. But she made an -impression on my mind that will not be easily removed. And she bore in -her heart motives for action which few but herself and me will ever -know. - - * * * * * - - - - - THE BROTHER’S LAMENT. - - - BY MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY. - - - One moment more, beneath the old elm, Mary, - Where last we parted in the flowing dell— - One moment more through twilight tints that vary, - To gaze upon thy grave, and then, farewell! - Ere from this spot, and these loved scenes I sever, - Where still thy lovely spirit seems to stray— - One look—to fix them on my soul forever— - And then away! - - Mary, I know my steps should now be shrinking - From this sad spot—but on my mournful gaze - A scene floats up that sets my soul to thinking - On all the dear delights of other days! - I’m gazing on the little foot-bridge yonder - Thrown o’er the stream whose waters purl below, - Where I so oft have seen thee pause and ponder, - Leaning thy white brow on thy hand of snow. - I’m standing on the spot where last we parted, - Where, as I left thee in the fragrant dell, - I saw thee turn so oft—half broken-hearted— - Waving thy hand in token of farewell. - I start to meet thy footstep light and airy— - But—the cold grass waves o’er thy sweet young head; - Would that the shroud that wraps thy fair form, Mary, - Wrapped mine instead! - - In vain my heart its bitter thoughts would parry, - An adder’s grasp about its chords seem curled, - For you were all I ever thought of, Mary— - Were all I doted on in this wide world! - And yet, I’d sigh not while thy fate I ponder, - Did memory only bring thee to my eyes - Pale as thou sleepest in the church-yard yonder— - Or as an angel dazzling from the skies! - I then at least could treasure each sweet token - Of thy pure love—and in life’s mad’ning whirl - Steel my crushed heart—had not thine own been broken, - Poor hapless girl! - - But, Mary—Mary, when I think upon thee, - As when I last beheld thee in thy pride— - And on the fate—oh God!—to which he won thee— - I curse the hour that sent me from your side! - Oh why wert thou so richly, strangely gifted - With mortal loveliness beyond compare? - The look of love beneath thy lashes lifted— - Its fatal sweetness was to thee a snare! - Yet sleep, my sister—I will not upbraid thee— - Thou wert too sweet—too innocently dear; - But he—the exulting demon who betrayed thee— - He lives, he lives, and I am loitering here! - Even now some happier fair one’s chains may bind him - In dalliance sweet—but I’ll avenge thee well! - Avenge thee?—Yes! a brother’s curse will find him, - Though he should dive into the deeps of hell! - I swear it, sister—as thou art forgiven— - By all our wrongs—by all our severed ties, - And by the blessedness of yon blue heaven, - That gives its world of azure to mine eyes! - By all my love—by every sacred duty - A brother owes—and by yon heaving sod, - Thine early grave—and by thy blighted beauty, - Thou sweetest angel in the realms of God! - I swear it, by the bursting groans I smother, - And call on Heaven and thee to nerve me now. - Mary, look down!—behold thy wretched brother, - And bless the vow! - - Sister, my soul its last farewell is taking, - And I for this had thought it nerved to-night, - But every chord about my heart seems breaking, - And blinding tears shut out the glimmering sight. - One look—one last long look to hill and meadow— - To the old foot-bridge and the murmuring mill, - And to the church-yard sleeping in the shadow— - Cease tears—and let these fond eyes look their fill! - One look—and now farewell ye scenes that vary - Beneath the twilight shades that round me flow! - The charm that bound my wild heart here, was Mary— - And she lies low! - - * * * * * - - - - - SONNET TO MACHIAVELLI. - - - FROM THE ITALIAN OF MAMIANI. - - - Thou mighty one, whose winged words of yore - Have spread on history’s page Italia’s wars, - The sad mischances of intestine jars, - Like beacons blazing where the breakers roar. - Still canst thou glance out civil discords o’er? - Some solace for us canst thou not divine? - Canst thou not oil on troubled waters pour, - And soothe each petty tyrants ruthless mind? - Why else unveil the falsehood of our land, - Which sees not why its tale thou deign’st to tell? - Why else didst thou with an unsparing hand - Make bare the wounds whose angry scars will tell - The lasting shame of ignomy’s brand, - All petrified at history’s command? - - * * * * * - - - - - THE DARSIES. - - - BY EMMA C. EMBURY. - - - _Don Pedro._ I pray you, hold me not responsible for all these - travelers’ tales. I am but the mouthpiece of others: therefore, - if I question the infallibility of the Pope, summon me not - before the Inquisition; if I speak treason against the king, - clap me not up in the Tower; and if I utter heresy against the - ladies, let me not be flayed alive by the nails of enraged - damsels. OLD PLAY. - -“There is no use in wasting words, Cousin Charles; you never can -persuade me that men love more devotedly than women.” - -“How can you be so unreasonable, Anne? I only want to convince you that -affection being an essential part of woman’s nature, she cannot help -loving something or somebody all her life. The most she does, even in -her most intense devotion, is to _individualize_ the general sentiment -which pervades her character; but when men love, they actually take up a -new nature, and concentrate upon it all their strength of mind and force -of character.” - -“You have certainly a droll method of reasoning, cousin; because women -are _loving_ creatures, therefore they cannot love as well as the -rougher sex.” - -“You are willful, Anne, and are determined not to understand me. I mean -that love is usually a habitude with women, while with men, if it exists -at all, it is a positive, determinate thing—a graft, as it were, upon -their sturdy natures, and partaking therefore of the strength of the -stock which nourishes it.” - -“How can you say so when men are always in love, from the time they quit -the nursery until they are gray-headed, or _married_?” - -“Such attachments are mere fancies.” - -“Pray, how is one to distinguish between a fancy and a fact in so -delicate a matter?” - -“It is difficult to decide at first, because in their inceptive state -they are much alike; but time is the true test. A fancy, a mere -intoxication of the senses, is scarce worth talking about; but in a -genuine manly love there is a depth, a fervor, a disinterestedness, a -devotion, such as woman can never feel—nay, which they can rarely -appreciate.” - -“Heresy—rank heresy—Cousin Charles. I appeal to Uncle Lorimer, who has -heard our whole discussion, if you do not deserve excommunication with -‘bell, book and candle,’ for holding such opinions.” - -The cousins were sitting together in the twilight, and, as the shadows -of evening deepened around them, the light of the soft-coal fire in the -polished grate gave a beautifully cheerful look of home comfort to the -pleasant apartment. An old gentleman, whose silver hair glittered in the -fire-light, had been sitting in the chimney-nook, and, thus appealed to -by his merry niece, he smiled good-humoredly as he replied— - -“If you submit the dispute to me, I must decide against both.” - -“Why so?” - -“Because you are both too generalizing in your remarks. In this -work-a-day world of ours there is a daily and hourly need of the tender, -watchful, kindly ministry of sympathy and affection; now the peculiar -attributes of woman’s nature are such as fit her for this ministry; and -whether it be a mere habitude or not, it is the quality most needed by -men and most generally possessed by women.” - -Anne clapped her hands, and looked triumphantly at her cousin; but Uncle -Lorimer continued— - -“I must agree with Charles, however, that when men give out their whole -strength to a genuine affection, it is a more unselfish, magnanimous and -higher emotion than ever could dwell in the bosom of woman. The same -qualities which make her the gentler half of man mingle their leaven in -her affections. For instance, a woman will make any sacrifice for one -whom she loves, she will bear all kinds of privation and suffering for -his sake, but earth holds not the creature more pitilessly exacting of -affection than she is, or more jealously awake to every whisper of -distrust. Another weakness in her character is vanity; and I must -confess I never yet found a woman so much in love with her lover, that -she would not curl her hair and dress in her best to meet the eyes of -other men.” - -“Oh! uncle. You are worse than Charles.” - -“But perhaps you will like to hear my whole opinion, Anne. I have said -that women possess most of the quality which is required in daily life; -as I am not one of those who pretend to despise _good habits_ because -they are not _heroic virtues_, I think you ought to be satisfied with my -decision.” - -“But you attribute so much nobler a quality to men.” - -“That is true, but let me comfort you by just whispering in your ear, -that not one man in a thousand is capable of such an affection. True -sentiment is the rarest thing upon earth. To use the language of your -favorite poet— - - Accident, blind contact, and the strong necessity of loving, - -often bring together hearts which habit afterward keeps united. Few, -very few, create an ideal in their youth and see it substantialize into -a reality as life goes on. Still fewer of those men who are capable of -real love ever bestow its treasures upon one who can appreciate them. I -think I have never known a single instance of such an attachment being -reciprocated and rewarded.” - -“Did you ever know more than one man who possessed this faculty of -loving, uncle?” - -“In the course of my long life I have known _three_; and if you choose I -will tell you the history of one of these, to prove my theory. - -“Among my earliest school friends and playmates were Edgar and Herbert -Darsie. They were twin-brothers, the only children of a widow, whom I -remember as a tall, pale lady in close mourning, which she never laid -aside till the day of her death. There was little of that resemblance -between the twins which generally makes the pleasant puzzle of mothers -and nurses in similar cases; for, though alike in feature and height, -and even in their peculiarity of gait and manner, yet Edgar had the fair -complexion, blue eyes, and light silken hair of his mother; while -Herbert’s olive complexion, dark eyes, and curling black locks betrayed -the French blood which he derived from his father. They were cheerful, -happy-tempered boys, and possessed a certain natural sweetness of -manner, which made them universal favorites with old and young. Their -mother lived in the retired but handsome style which, in those days, was -considered the proper mode of showing respect for the memory of a -husband. She kept up the establishment exactly as it had been during Mr. -Darsie’s life, and seemed to find her only pleasure in doing precisely -as he would have wished. She was apparently in the enjoyment of a -handsome income, kept her carriage, and had a number of servants, while -the house and grounds exhibited taste as well as no stint of expense. - -“The boys were about twelve years of age, when an accident happened to -Herbert, which, though apparently slight at first, finally led to the -most disastrous consequences. While skating, he fell and received some -injury, which, after months of suffering, finally developed itself in an -incurable disease of the spine, entailing upon him a life-time of pain, -and branding him with frightful deformity. The tall, lithe, graceful -boy, whose step had been as light and free as the leap of the greyhound, -was now a dwarfed and distorted cripple. As soon as he was able to leave -his sick-room, Mrs. Darsie placed Edgar at boarding-school, and sailed -for Europe, with the intention of giving Herbert the benefit of all the -modern discoveries in medicine. She designed to be absent a year, but, -led on by fallacious hopes, she traveled farther, and remained much -longer than she had anticipated. Three years elapsed before her return, -and to all appearance Herbert had derived little benefit from the -various experiments to which he had been subjected. He was still -dependent on his crutch, and his gnarled and stunted figure presented a -pitiable contrast to the tall and well-knit form of his brother. But his -health was somewhat improved; his paroxysms of pain were less frequent, -and he could now enjoy weeks of comparative ease and comfort. - -“The brothers had early been remarkable for their affection for each -other, and their unbroken concord, but their long separation had not -been without its effect upon them. Edgar was gay, active, volatile, and -not destitute of a leaven of selfishness; while Herbert had become -grave, quiet, gentle in manner, and most thoughtful and considerate for -others. To him suffering had been a teacher of all good things, and the -misfortune of being cut off from fellowship with the world had taught -him to find resources within himself. He could not and did not expect -Edgar to sympathize in all his tastes, for he was conscious that their -paths must henceforth be divided ones. He schooled himself to overcome -the pang which this reflection gave to his sensitive spirit, and tried -to find in his brother’s enjoyments of outer life, a pleasure which he -could only receive from the reflection of another’s joy. - -“Soon after their return from Europe, Mrs. Darsie received into her -family the orphan child of a poor clergyman, partly from charity, partly -with a view to furnish a companion and attendant for Herbert. Jessie -Graham was a pale, delicate-looking child, about twelve years old, when -she took up her abode with her benefactress. Her thin and almost -transparent cheek, her bloodless lips, and large gray, timid-looking -eyes, spoke of fragile health, and of a certain shyness of character -which might be the result of early anxieties, or perhaps denoted -feebleness of mind and indecision. But she was a sweet-tempered, gentle -little girl, and her compassion for Herbert’s melancholy condition soon -dissipated her shyness toward him, though to every one else, even to -Mrs. Darsie, she was as timid as a startled fawn. - -“To divert his lonely hours Herbert undertook her instruction. He was -but a boy of fifteen, but sorrow had given him the stability of manhood; -and never did a more discreet, tender, and watchful Mentor attempt the -training of a female mind. Jessie was docile and intelligent, quickly -acquiring every thing which called forth the perceptive faculties, but -utterly incapable of abstract reasoning or profound reflection. Her mind -possessed a certain activity, and a kind of feminine patience that -enabled her to do full credit to her teacher, without ever attaining to -his high reach of thought. To cultivate her mental powers, to impart to -her a portion of his accomplishments, and to train her moral sense, now -became Herbert’s chief occupation. That such employment of heart and -mind saved him from bitterness and misanthropy there can be no doubt; -but whether he did not pay dearly for his exemption we shall see in the -sequel. - -“Time passed on without making any great change in the affairs of the -Darsies. Edgar went through college rather because it was necessary to a -gentlemanly education than from any love for study, and, immediately -after graduating, he set off on the tour of Europe. In the meantime -Herbert continued to lead his usual quiet life, driving out in his low -pony-carriage every day, teaching Jessie all she would learn, and -surrounding himself with pictures of his own painting in the intervals -of his severer studies. - -“It was on the anniversary of their birth—the day they attained their -twenty-first year—that the brothers again met upon their own -hearth-stone. Mrs. Darsie’s health had begun to fail, and Edgar, at -Herbert’s suggestion, had unwillingly torn himself from the enjoyments -of Parisian life to return to his quiet home. He found his mother sadly -changed, and evidently suffering from the insidious disease which so -slowly saps the foundations of health and life. Herbert, like all -deformed persons, had early lost the freshness of youth, and he was not -surprised, therefore, to find him looking at least ten years older than -himself, but he was astonished at the intellectual beauty which seemed -to radiate from his noble countenance. To the shapeless form of a -stunted tree he united the head of a demi-god. The beauty of his -classical features, the splendor of his deep, dark eyes, and rich glossy -hair curling in heavy masses round his temples, gave him the appearance -of a magnificently sculptured head joined on to some distorted torso. - -“But if Edgar was startled at the change in his mother and brother, how -was he amazed and bewildered when he saw Jesse Graham! The pale, puny, -frightened-looking little girl had expanded into one of the very -loveliest of women. At eighteen Jessie had all that delicate yet fresh -beauty which a painter would select as his model for a youthful Hebe. “A -rose crushed upon ivory” was not too extravagant a simile for her cheek; -her lips were like the berry of the mountain-ash; and her eyes so soft, -so tender, with just enough of their former shyness to make them always -seem appealing in their expression, were like nothing else on earth.” - -“You are extravagant, Uncle Lorimer; pray how did you avoid falling in -love with such a creature?” asked Anne, saucily. - -“By the best of all preventives—_pre-occupation_. But my story has to -do with others, not with me. Soon after Edgar’s return, his mother took -an opportunity to inform him of her plans with regard to Jessie. She had -watched the progress of Herbert’s attachment to his young pupil, and she -believed it to be fully reciprocated by the docile girl. She had, -therefore, as she thought, fully provided for Herbert’s future -happiness; and, lest Edgar should be attracted by Jessie’s loveliness, -she hastened to tell him that in the beautiful orphan he beheld his -brother’s future wife. Mrs. Darsie was a weak woman, though kind-hearted -and affectionate. She proceeded to inform Edgar how the idea first came -into her head—how she had told Herbert of it—how she had been at first -shocked at the thought of sacrificing Jessie’s youthful loveliness to -such a union—how she discovered his secret love even from his heroic -self-denial—how she had finally succeeded in persuading him that Jessie -really loved him better than any one in the world—and how he had at -last consented to entertain the hope and belief that Jessie might become -his wife without repugnance. To Edgar’s very natural question, whether -Jessie was really willing to marry Herbert, his mother replied that as -yet Jessie knew nothing of their plans, Herbert having forbidden her to -use her influence in the matter, being determined that if he won Jessie, -it should be through her own free and unbiased will. - -“Whether it arose from that perverseness in human nature, which teaches -men to value a thing just in proportion to its difficulty of attainment, -or whether Jessie’s loveliness was irresistible to a man of Edgar’s -temperament, I cannot determine; but certain it is, that from that time -he looked upon her with far different eyes than he had at first regarded -her. Edgar was precisely the kind of man who is always successful with -women. His talents and accomplishments were all of the most superficial -kind, but he danced well, sung beautifully, played the guitar -gracefully, and withal was exceedingly handsome. His voice was perfect -music, and when he bent down in a half-caressing manner over a lady’s -chair, flinging back his bright, silken hair, and gazing in her face -with eyes full of dangerous softness, while his rich voice took the -sweetest tone of deference and heart-felt emotion, it was next to -impossible for any woman to resist his fascinations.” - -“Was his character a perfectly natural one, uncle, or was this exquisite -manner the result of consummate art?” - -“It was natural to him to wish to please, and he aided his natural -attractions by a certain devotedness of manner, which made each -individual to whom he addressed himself _appropriate_ his tenderness as -her own right. Jessie had lived in such close seclusion that she knew -nothing of the world or its ways. It is probable that had Herbert asked -her to become his wife before the return of Edgar, she would have easily -consented, for she certainly loved him very dearly, and long habit of -associating with him had accustomed her to his deformity. To her he was -not the shapeless dwarf, whose crippled limbs scarce bore the weight of -his crooked body. He had been her ideal of excellence—the friend, the -Mentor who had made her orphaned life a blessing, and she could imagine -no stronger, deeper affection than that which he had long since -inspired. - -“But after Edgar had been at home a few months, she was conscious of a -great change in her feelings. She loved Herbert as well as ever, but she -had learned the existence of another kind of affection. Edgar’s sweet -words and honied flatteries were unlike any thing she had ever heard -before, and unconscious of any disloyalty to Herbert, she gave herself -up to the enjoyment of this new sensation of happiness. - -“Herbert was tried almost beyond his strength, for it was when his -mother lay on what was soon to be her death-bed that he first suspected -the fatal truth respecting his brother and Jessie. A lingering illness, -protracted through many weeks (during which time Herbert was his -mother’s constant companion, while Edgar enjoyed the opportunity of -unrestrained companionship with Jessie,) finally terminated in Mrs. -Darsie’s death; and, as Herbert closed her eyes, he could not but feel -that sinking of the heart which told him that he was now alone upon -earth. Immediately after his mother’s funeral he was taken alarmingly -ill, and for several days his life was considered in imminent danger. It -was not until his recovery that he again saw Jessie Graham, who, in -compliance with the world’s notions of decorum, had left the home of her -childhood on the decease of her benefactress. She had found her -temporary abode in the family of a friend in the neighborhood, and -Herbert’s sick-bed had known no other attendance than that of the -housekeeper and servants. In his first interview with Jessie after his -convalescence, he drew from her a confession, or rather an admission of -her love for Edgar. The manner in which she confided this to him—the -frank, sisterly feeling which seemed to animate her, stung him to the -heart. But he possessed great self-command, and Jessie never suspected -the actual state of _his_ feelings while she confided to him her own. - -“As soon as practicable after Herbert’s recovery, his mother’s will was -opened, and then arose a new subject of wonder and dissatisfaction. No -one but Mrs. Darsie and her lawyer had known that she had been merely in -the enjoyment of a life interest in her fortune; but it was now -ascertained that her husband’s estate had been very trifling, and that -her large income was the product of a handsome fortune bequeathed to -Herbert by an old uncle, in consideration of his physical misfortunes. -The yearly product was given to Mrs. Darsie during her life, but at her -death the whole reverted to Herbert. His father’s property, amounting -only to a few thousand dollars, was bequeathed solely to Edgar, and a -legacy of five hundred dollars, (to purchase her wedding-dress, as the -will stated,) marked the testator’s wishes regarding her protégé, Jesse -Graham. Every body was surprised at this development, but no one more so -than the brothers. Why their mother had left them in such close -ignorance of their affairs, it is impossible to say, but they certainly -had no suspicion of the facts until they were thus legally made known. - -“One of the first wishes of Herbert’s heart was to see Jessie placed in -her proper position, and he therefore nerved himself to speak to Edgar -on the subject. What was his surprise, therefore, when his brother -treated the whole thing as a boyish affair, and avowed his determination -to spend his pittance (as he termed it) abroad, and then to repair his -fortunes by a wealthy marriage! If ever the gentle spirit of Herbert -entertained a feeling of abhorrence for any living creature, it was at -that moment. His own hopes had been ruthlessly blighted, and Jessie’s -heart estranged from him, merely to gratify a _boyish fancy_! - -“What he suffered, and what he felt, however, it is not for me to -attempt describing. He had garnered up all his treasures of affection in -Jessie and his brother. Now Jessie was lost to him, and Edgar was a -villain. How he, with his delicate sensibility, his high sense of honor, -and his stern principles of duty, must have suffered, I leave you to -imagine. But his love for Jessie conquered all other feelings. He knew -that her happiness depended on her union with Edgar, for she was -precisely that kind of character, which, though infirm of purpose in the -outset, yet have a certain tenacity of feeling when once a decision has -been made for them. He revolved many schemes in his mind before he could -form a practicable one, and at last he suffered his frank and candid -nature to lead him with its usual directness to his object. He asked -Edgar to be more explicit in his confidences, and when Edgar declared -that had he been the heir of wealth he would gladly make Jessie his -wife, but that nothing would ever induce him to tie himself down to a -life of privation and poverty, Herbert’s decision was at once made. He -proposed dividing his income with Edgar, on condition that his brother -should marry Jessie, and reside in the home of their childhood, while he -himself should travel into distant lands. But Edgar, with the -quick-sightedness of selfishness, saw how deeply Herbert’s soul was -interested in the matter. Pretending a jealousy of his brother’s -influence over Jessie—a jealousy of which he declared himself ashamed, -yet which he could not subdue—he said that if he had the means he would -marry Jessie, and take her far from all her early associations, but that -he would never let her live in Herbert’s house, or in a place where she -might at any time be subject to his visits. - -“Pained as he was by this appearance of distrust, Herbert’s conscience -accused him of cherishing a wicked love for one who was about to become -his brother’s wife, and he therefore submitted meekly to this new trial. -What terms were finally decided upon could only be known at that time to -the two brothers. - -“Six months after Mrs. Darsie’s death Edgar was united to Jessie Graham, -in the little village church, and immediately after the ceremony, the -wedding-party left for New York, from whence they sailed a few days -afterward for Havre. - -“Herbert dismissed the greater part of the servants, shut up all except -one wing of the large house, sold off the carriage and horses, -(reserving only the little pony-carriage, without which he would have -been deprived of all means of locomotion,) and restricted his expenses -within such narrow limits, that people began to consider him mean and -miserly. He withdrew entirely from society, and lived more utterly alone -than ever. His books, his pictures, his music, were now his only -companions. Yet he did not forget that earth held those to whom even he -might minister. The door of the poorest cottages often opened to admit -the distorted form of the benefactor and friend, but the sunlight on the -rich man’s threshold was never darkened by his shapeless shadow. - -“Edgar Darsie went to Paris with his beautiful wife, and there he lived -in luxury and splendor, surrounded by every thing that could minister to -his love of pleasure. Only himself and one other, the lawyer who had -drawn up the papers, knew whence his wealth was derived. Even Jessie -never suspected that Herbert was living with the closest economy in -order that the poor should not suffer from the lavish generosity which -had induced him to secure to his brother more than three-fourths of his -whole income as a bribe to insure her happiness. - -“Ten years passed away, dragging their weary length with the lonely and -suffering Herbert, winging their way on golden pinions to Edgar, weaving -their mingled web of dark and bright to the womanly heart of Jessie. She -had witnessed the changes of a fickle nature in her husband—she had -learned to endure indifference, and to meet with fitful affection from -him—she had borne children, and laid them sorrowing in the bosom of -mother earth—she had drunk of the cup of pleasure and found bitterness -in its dregs; and now she stood a weeping mourner beside the dying bed -of that faithless but still beloved husband. Edgar Darsie had inherited -his mother’s disease, together with her beauty. His excesses had -hastened the period of its development, and ten years after his marriage -he was withering like grass before the hunter’s fire, beneath the touch -of consumption. Day after day he faded—his stately form became bowed, -his bright face changed, his silken locks fell away from his hollow -temples. Health was gone, and beauty soon departed. - -“With the approach of death came old memories thronging about his heart, -and filling his sick chamber with fantasies and spectres of long by-gone -days. “Take me home! take me home!” was the bitter cry. But his -“_home-wo_” came too late. Never again would he leave his bed until he -was carried to the house appointed for all living. At the first tidings -of his illness Herbert had sailed for Havre, and traveled with all speed -to Paris; but when he arrived there his heart failed him. He remembered -Edgar’s avowed jealousy of him, and the wild, fierce joy which thrilled -his heart when he found himself once more near to Jessie, taught him -that he was not entirely guiltless toward his brother. He accordingly -took lodgings in the same hotel, that he might be near Edgar, in case he -should wish to see him, well knowing that the mode of life in Paris -secured him the most perfect privacy. He made known his present abode to -a certain business-agent, through whose hands letters had usually been -sent to him from Paris, and thus he received from Jessie’s hand constant -tidings of his brother’s condition. - -“But this state of things could not last long. His impatience to be with -Edgar led him to seize upon the first faint intimation of a wish to see -him, and he soon found himself welcomed with tears of joy by Jessie -while Edgar thanked him with his eyes—those tender eyes—for his -thoughtful kindness in coming without waiting for a summons. During -three months Herbert shared with Jessie her care and watchfulness over -the invalid. All the lovable qualities of Edgar’s nature were brought -out by his sickness, and Herbert could not help feeling the full force -of those fascinations which had won for him the love of every one. -Weakened in mind as well as in body by his disease, he was like a lovely -and gentle child, so docile, so affectionate, so helpless, so tender, -and so altogether lovely did he appear, as the dark wing of death flung -its shadow broader and deeper above his couch. - -“He died with penitence for past misdeeds deep-rooted in his heart, and -prayer for pardon lingering on his lips. He died clasping his brother’s -hand in his, and the last act of his life was a vain attempt to unite -Jessie’s hand in the same grasp. There was no time for the indulgence of -selfish feeling at such a moment. The presence of death had hushed the -whispers of earthly passion, and the grief of both the brother and the -widow was the genuine tribute of affection to the departed. - -“As soon as Edgar’s affairs could be arranged, the widow, with her only -surviving child, returned to America under the protection of Herbert. -Ignorant as a child about pecuniary affairs, Jessie left every thing to -Herbert, and consequently never knew at what sacrifice he rescued -Edgar’s good name from obloquy, and paid his enormous debts. Nor did she -ever know that the money which had supported their extravagant -expenditure in Paris, was the free gift of Herbert. But daily and hourly -did she experience Herbert’s considerate kindness. Fearing to awaken her -suspicions relative to his agency in her marriage, he determined to -continue to her an allowance similar to that which he had bestowed upon -his brother. But to do this required new retrenchments, and the -sacrifice of a fine landed property; for Edgar’s lavish prodigality had -cost him so large a portion of his fortune that it now needed the most -careful and judicious management. - -“If Herbert hoped to marry his brother’s widow, he at least determined -to leave her free to choose for herself. Jessie found herself pleasantly -domiciled in a new home, with a handsome provision for herself and -child, and surrounded by all the appliances of American comfort before -she had yet recovered from the dull torpor of her grief. For fifteen -years Herbert had lived but for her. During the five years preceding her -marriage his whole soul had been devoted to her; and when afterward he -tried to banish her image, he found though he might dethrone the idol, -the sentiment of loyal love, like a subtile perfume, had diffused itself -through his whole being. Was it strange, then, if he should once more -dream that his love and faith might do more than remove mountains—that -his devotion might veil the unsightliness of his person—that he might -yet be beloved and rewarded? - -“Now tell me, Annie, how do you think my story is going to end?” - -“In the marriage of Jessie to the devoted Herbert,” replied Annie. “It -is not in the nature of woman to be insensible to such devotion.” - -“Remember that Jessie knew nothing of his pecuniary sacrifices, had no -suspicion of his agency in bringing about her marriage; did not dream of -his self-denying, self-forgetting love.” - -“But no woman could doubt the true meaning of all his devotedness.” - -“He had never flattered her with gentle words; never wooed her in -courtly phrase; never played the lover in the most approved fashion. He -had been the adviser, the Mentor, the steady friend; love had been the -pervading and animating soul of all he thought and all he did, but his -very magnanimity had been as a cloak to conceal his affections. Do you -think a woman like Jessie—an ordinary woman, lovely and gentle, but -withal having no perception of that inner life which so few can -penetrate—do you think she could see through this magnanimous reserve, -and detect the hidden love?” - -“Surely, surely!” - -“Recollect that she had early learned to pity him for his personal -defects, and though ‘pity’ may be ‘akin to love’ in our sex, yet no -woman ever loves a man she must look down upon with compassion.” - -“But his nobler qualities must have commanded her respect.” - -“Suppose they were so far above her perceptions as to inspire her with -_awe_ instead of respect? A woman never loves the man she _pities_, nor -will she love the man whose superiority she _fears_. Jessie -compassionated Herbert’s bodily weaknesses, and she had a vague terror -of his stern, uncompromising ideas of right and wrong.” - -“Nevertheless, I am sure she married Herbert, uncle.” - -“You are mistaken, Annie. Herbert continued his devotion for years; he -learned to love her child as if it were his own, and gave proofs of -disinterestedness and tenderness such as no woman could misinterpret; -but he never offered her his hand.” - -“Why not?” - -“Because he _knew_ it would be rejected, and he preferred being a -life-long friend, to occupying the position of an unsuccessful suitor.” - -“Then I suppose she never married again.” - -“You are wrong again, Annie. At forty years of age, when her beauty was -faded, and her character had deteriorated amid the follies of society, -she married a man some ten years her junior, who, tempted by the income -which _Herbert_ had bestowed upon her, flattered her into the belief -that she had inspired him with the most passionate love.” - -“And her child?” - -“Was adopted by Herbert Darsie, and at his death inherited his estate.” - -“Poor, poor Herbert!” - -“He suffered the penalty which all must pay who give to earth the high -and holy sentiment which is only meant to make us companion with the -angels in heaven. Not one in a thousand can love thus, and that one -always finds that in the world’s vast desert, he has expended his -strength in vain—‘hewn out broken cisterns which can hold no water.’” - - * * * * * - - - - - THE UNMASKED. - - - BY S. ANNA LEWIS. - - - The struggle is over—my pulses once more - Leap free as the waves on the surf-beaten shore; - And my spirit looks up to that world of all bliss, - And heaves not a sigh for the faithless in this. - - ’Twas in Sorrow’s bleak night, when the sky was all dark, - And the tempest shrieked loud round my storm-beaten bark, - That arose, ’mid the darkness, thy radiant form, - Like the rainbow illuming the brow of the storm. - - An angel thou seemedst, that had come to the earth, - To guide me—to nourish my heart in its dearth; - And blindly, as Paynim kneels down to his god, - I have loved thee—have worshiped the earth thou hast trod. - - But this waste of affection—this prodigal part— - Is over—the mask has been torn from thy heart— - And back with affright and amazement I shrink— - At a fount so unholy my soul cannot drink. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: Mormon Temple, Nauvoo] - - * * * * * - - - - - MORMON TEMPLE, NAUVOO. - - - [SEE ENGRAVING.] - -By permission of Mr. J. R. Smith, we have caused a view of the Mormon -Temple at Nauvoo to be engraved from his splendid Panorama of the -Mississippi, and we give the engraving in this number. As the building -has been recently destroyed by fire, our engraving, the first ever -published, acquires additional value. We copy from Mr. Smith’s -description of the Panorama, the following account of Nauvoo and the -Temple: - -“_Nauvoo._—A Mormon city and settlement, now deserted. It is one of the -finest locations for a town upon the river, it being situated at the -second and last rapids below the Falls of St. Anthony, which extend from -this place to Keokuk, a distance of 12 miles. The great Mormon Temple -stands out conspicuous. It is the finest building in the west, and if -paid for would have cost over half a million of dollars. It is built of -a white stone, resembling marble, 80 feet front by 150 deep; 200 feet to -the top of the spire. The caps of the pilasters represent the sun; the -base of them, the half moon with Joe Smith’s profile. The windows -between the pilasters represent stars. A large female figure with a -Bible in one hand is the vane. An inscription on the front, in large -gilt letters, reads as follows: - - “The House of the Lord, built by the Church of Jesus Christ of - the Latter Day Saints. Commenced April 6, 1841. Holiness to the - Lord.” - -There is in the basement of the temple a large stone-basin, supported by -twelve oxen of colossal size, about fifteen feet high altogether, all of -white stone and respectably carved. A staircase leads up to the top of -the basin. It is the font where all the Mormons were baptized. It is -seen in the Panorama standing aside the Temple, _but in the basement is -its real situation_. - - * * * * * - - - - - ROSE WINTERS. - - - A TALE OF FIRST LOVE. - - - BY ESTELLE. - - -“I shall never have another hour’s happiness as long as I live!” -exclaimed Rose Winters, weeping passionately. “You wouldn’t let me marry -him, father, and now he’s gone to sea, and said he should never come -back.” - -“Don’t believe it, Rose,” said Mr. Winters. “He’ll be glad enough to -come back, I’ll warrant you—and the longer he stays away the better, -I’m thinking, it will be for you.” - -“It’s not like you, father, to be so unfeeling,” said Rose, sobbing -almost hysterically. - -“Nonsense, child—unfeeling, indeed! ay, ay, it may be so in your -judgment, I dare say, but I must judge with the head, and not with the -heart.” - -“I think I ought to be allowed to judge for myself, now I’m of _age_,” -answered Rose, with sudden spirit. “I was eighteen my last birthday.” - -“True, Rose, you have had great experience of mankind, no doubt. But -come, now, just tell me what you could have done if you had married Bob -Selwyn, with no fortune yourself, and he nothing to depend on but his -hands?” - -“We could have done as other people do,” said Rose—“we could have -worked. Have I not always worked at home, father?” - -“To be sure you have. You have been a good, industrious girl, Rosy, that -I sha’n’t deny; but your work at home was not like pulling continually -at the rowing oar, which would have been your portion all your life, I’m -afraid, with Robert. I can’t see, for my part, what you wanted to marry -him for.” - -“Because I loved him, and he loved me. Didn’t you and mother marry for -love, father?” - -Mr. Winters could not forbear laughing at this question, notwithstanding -Rose’s grief—and his natural droll humor struggled with his former -seriousness as he replied, “Well, I must try to remember. It is nearly -twenty years ago, now—so long that you have come of _age_ in the -meanwhile, and fancy you are wiser than your father. But I can tell you -one thing, Rose, if we did marry for love, we had something to begin the -world with, which is quite as necessary. You know the old proverb, ‘When -poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window.’” - -“I don’t believe any such thing, father. Whoever wrote that proverb -never knew what love was. It was a mean thing in any man to say so; and -what would never have come from a woman, I’ll be bound.” - -“Well, well, Rosy, you may dry your eyes. I wish I was as sure of a -fortune for you, as I am that Robert will be back with the ship, if his -life is spared; but if that shouldn’t be the case, you will be young -enough then, and pretty enough, too, to get another beau.” - -“I wont have any other!” exclaimed Rose. “I am determined to wait for -him, if he stays twenty years!”—and with this resolution she hastily -turned away and ran to her own room, where, secure from observation, she -might give free vent to her full heart in a long fit of weeping. - -We are at a loss to imagine what sort of an impression our rustic -heroine, Rose Winters, has made on the minds of our readers, from her -unceremonious introduction to them through the foregoing dialogue: but -at all events, she is deserving of a more detailed description. She was -the daughter of a respectable farmer on Long Island, who resided in a -country village, situated on the Atlantic ocean, and near a large -seaport town. Mr. Winters was a shrewd, practical man, of strong natural -powers of mind, and excellent plain common sense. Rose was his eldest -and favorite child, and inherited his independent spirit and natural -gifts of understanding, which had been improved in her by a useful and -solid education at a first-rate country school. She was not, perhaps, -strictly beautiful, but her cheeks were bright with the hue of health, -and her dark-blue eyes sparkled with animation, and the joyousness of a -young heart, over which a lasting shadow had never passed, until her -lover left her to try his fortunes on the sea. Her figure was small, but -of exquisite proportions, and her steps sprang elastic with the -unchecked spirits of happy childhood. She was always agreeable and -entertaining without effort, for her words flowed in the easiest manner -possible, from a mouth which nature had made perfect; and then there was -nothing on earth more inspiring than her merry laugh, which seemed like -the very chorus of joy, and insensibly imparted a portion of her own -gayety to all around her. Rose had but little of imagination in her -heart or feelings. She was a young, gay creature, full of spirits and -activity, and only actuated by the every-day scenes of life, from which -she extracted mirth and enjoyment to diffuse unsparingly among all who -came within her influence. There was also a truthfulness and integrity -in her nature, which could not fail to give beauty, strength, and -elevation to her thoughts and character. The visions of romance which so -often pervert the minds of the young, and throw a false coloring over -the world, were all unknown to Rose. She had been nurtured amid scenes -where there was but little to excite or enrich the imagination, but much -to awaken bold and lofty sentiments. Born and brought up within sight -and sound of the grand and magnificent ocean, she delighted to gaze on -its rolling and breaking billows, and listen to its ceaseless sounding -roar, which had often been the solemn lullaby to her nightly slumbers. -The wide and level fields outspread before her native home, and the few -bare hills which skirted here and there the distant outline, were but -little calculated to inspire those enchanting, but unreal dreams, which -seem insensibly to arise amid the mountain scenery so wildly beautiful -and picturesque in many parts of our western world. - -Rose had never been twenty miles from her father’s dwelling. All that -she knew of the world had been learned in her own village, which was an -occasional resort for a small number of strangers during the heat of -summer; but its situation was too remote to be very generally visited -before there were either railroads or steamboats to facilitate and add -comfort and convenience to traveling. Communication with New York, which -was the nearest city, was at that time tedious and fatiguing, as the -road lay for many miles through sandy woods, or over a bleak and rough -country. By water, the journey was performed in sloops, taking from -three days to a week to accomplish the voyage. In consequence of these -disadvantages, the transient sojourners in the village consisted chiefly -of sportsmen, who sought its solitary retreat for the purpose of -enjoying the game which was formerly found there in great abundance. The -birds were seldom frightened away from the lanes and meadows, excepting -by the gun of the stranger, who, having once found his way to that -lonely yet delightful part of the country, returned again and again, not -only to scare the plover from their haunts, but to enjoy the refreshing -and invigorating breezes from the ocean, and revel in the luxury of -freedom from fashion and restraint. There was a primitive simplicity in -the manners of the inhabitants of the village which was peculiarly -pleasing; and in which school Rose had received her first model. She was -easy and unaffected, because seeking to appear no higher nor better than -she really was. Among her associates, she was a universal favorite. Her -presence was sure to be in requisition at all the balls or merry-makings -in the neighborhood, for nothing of the kind could go off well, unless -Rose Winters, with her quick wit, irresistible good humor, and gay -spirits, made one of the party. Her father, though a man of severe -morals and true piety, was far from being puritanical in his views or -feelings. He loved to see Rose happy, and enjoyed the sunny atmosphere -which her never-failing cheerfulness and vivacity spread around the -household dwelling. The bright sallies which flashed from her lips, -instead of being checked by the farmer, frequently occasioned a repartee -of wit from him, which gave Rose a habit of sharpening her own against -her father’s weapons. Thus it was that she learned to respect her parent -without fearing him. She knew him to be possessed of the most inflexible -principles of truth and rectitude; and that his jocose and lively -temperament could never induce him to swerve for a moment from the -straight-forward course of honesty and honor. In his judgment she placed -the most unbounded confidence; and it was only in the one instance in -which her heart rebelled against it, that she yielded to its mandate -with bitter and unsatisfied feelings. Her mother, whom we have not yet -mentioned, had been dead several years; and three sisters, considerably -younger than herself, partook more of her care than her confidence. It -thus happened that her father had been her companion, more than is -usually the case in such relationships. She had been accustomed to -consult him in all affairs of consequence; and self-dependent as she was -by nature, she durst not incur the responsibility of acting in direct -opposition to his counsels. In this slight sketch we have endeavored to -give a faint outline of the character of our heroine, unlike, we are -sensible, to the usual heroines of romance; but the portrait is drawn -from real life, with its beauties unflattered, and its blemishes -unconcealed; and we leave it as it is to make what impression it may on -the opinions of others. - -Robert Selwyn was a native of the same village. He was a few years older -than Rose, but had been accustomed to mingle in all the country -pleasures and amusements of which she had been for a time the principal -attraction. His handsome form, his manly and pleasing countenance, and -his gay and careless manners, were his only passports to favor. He had -no fortune to assist him in winning his way, but he had energy and -ambition, which were yet to be aroused into action. There was a distant -connection between the families of Winters and Selwyn, which served as a -plea for frequent and familiar intercourse. Rose called him Cousin -Robert, and under that name he was received as a sort of privileged -guest at her father’s house. The farmer always welcomed him; and Rose -chatted and laughed and flirted with him, until at last the flirtation -ended in a serious attachment. Mr. Winters, with all his habitual -foresight, had not looked for this result. To part with Rose, was an -event for which he had made no calculation, and he could not persuade -himself to believe that her affections were irrevocably engaged. The -application of her lover, therefore, for his consent to their marriage, -was met by a decided refusal. - -“Pooh, pooh, Robert,” said he, in answer to his solicitation, “I wonder -what you would do with a wife. Tell me first, how you expect to make a -living for yourself, let alone Rose?” - -“Why, if I can do nothing else, sir,” said Selwyn, “I can follow the -sea, and at least get a living out of the whales. You know others here -have got rich that way.” - -“Yes, yes, Robert, but it’s a hard life, and not much to your taste, I -reckon.” - -“It might not be my choice, Mr. Winters; but I’m not afraid of hardships -any more than other men—and I should think nothing hard with Rose.” - -“Oh, that’s the way all young men talk when they’re in love; but have -you no other plan than that?” - -“Yes, sir—I thought of either setting up a store, or trying to get the -school, as the old master is going away. I believe I know about as much -as he does.” - -Mr. Winters laughed as he replied, “Very likely you may, Robert, and be -no Solomon either; but it wont answer. Set up a store on credit, and -break next year; and as for school-keeping—no, no, I must see some -surer prospect of your being able to support a wife, before you can have -Rose with my consent.” - -“But, Mr. Winters, none of our girls here expect to marry rich. I wonder -where they’d find husbands, if they looked for money! not in this town, -I am sure.” - -“There must be something to look to, though, either money or business. -Take my word for it, young man, you would find love but light stuff to -live upon without something more substantial along with it.” - -Selwyn was silent for a few moments, and then said in a tone of severe -disappointment, “Well, I must say, sir, that I did not look for this -refusal. You never objected to my visits to Rose.” - -“No, but I wish I had, since neither of you have as much sense as I -thought for. I have been to blame, and am sorry for it; but there has -been enough said now, Robert—all the talking in the world will not -alter my mind at present.” - -It was after this conversation that Selwyn, finding the farmer -inflexible, and Rose determined to sacrifice her love rather than -disobey her father, formed the resolution to go out in a whaling ship, -just about to leave the port. Rose sought in vain to dissuade him. He -told her his mind was made up. “If you wont have me, Rose,” said he, “I -may as well be on the ocean as the land, for I shall never marry any one -else; but I shall not hold you bound—for most likely I shall never -return.” - -“I didn’t expect to hear you say such a thing as that, Cousin Robert,” -answered Rose, with her eyes full of tears; “but you may hold me bound -or not, just as you please, I shall wait for you. If you should forget -me, I could never believe in the love of any man afterward.” - -The ship sailed unexpectedly, and Selwyn, much to his disappointment, -was obliged to depart without again seeing Rose; and the sudden news -that he had gone, occasioned the burst of feeling in her, with which our -story opened. - -We must now pass over a few anxious and tedious years. Rose waited and -dreamed of her lover’s return, until her spirits flagged, and her young -heart grew sick with “hope deferred.” Mr. Winters was puzzled and -confounded. He had mistaken his daughter’s disposition, and was not -prepared for the depth of feeling and affection which she had garnered -in her bosom. That his bright and merry Rose should suddenly become the -reflective and thinking being, and perform her household duties with -methodical and earnest care, instead of flying like a bird from room to -room, and singing or laughing off a thousand grotesque mistakes, which -before were continually occurring under her management, was to him a -matter of serious consideration. In truth he did not much like the -change; for what was gained in order and regularity in his house, was -lost in that inexhaustible fund of animating gayety which had been wont -to beguile him at sight of the fatigue of daily labor, and cast an -unfailing charm over his retired dwelling. Not that Rose had altogether -sunk into the sober and serious mood—that it was not in her nature to -do—but an indescribable change had passed over her former manner, which -had somewhat of a depressing influence on her family. She could not help -laughing and being lively, any more than she could help the beating of -her pulse, or the breath that came without her will or agency; but there -was something missing in the inward spring from which her spirits -flowed. It was the heart’s happiness—and the spring, in consequence, -sometimes yielded bitter waters. - -Three years had fulfilled their annual revolutions, before the ship -returned in which Selwyn had embarked, and then, alas! it returned -without him. The voyage had been a most disastrous one. They had been -nearly shipwrecked, after being but a few months out, and had been -obliged to put in at one of the islands in the Pacific to repair and -refit. This operation necessarily detained them a long time; and the -second year of the voyage, Selwyn got sick and discouraged, and left -them at a port where they had stopped to winter, and went to London. It -was hinted that he was wild and reckless, and would never do any thing -for want of stability and perseverance. Rose was indignant at these -innuendos. Her sense of justice and generosity spurned the meanness of -traducing the absent, and her woman’s love shielded him in her own mind -from every attack on his reputation. She received a letter from him -shortly afterward, the first he had written since his departure. The -general tone of it was sad and desponding, but it breathed the most -unabated affection toward herself, while at the same time it set her -perfectly free from her engagement to him. - -“I cannot ask you, dear Rose,” he wrote, “to wait for me, when it is so -uncertain if I ever can return to claim your promise. I have made -nothing by this voyage, and am determined never to see your father again -until I can give him a satisfactory answer to his question of ‘how I am -to support a wife.’” - -Rose wept over the letter, and then consigned it to her most secret -hiding-place, and returned with unshaken resolution to her usual train -of duties. She had lost none of her beauty, for the healthful exercise -of necessary and constant employment, preserved the bloom on her cheek, -and kept her from giving way to useless repining. Among the beaux of the -village, she continued to have her full share of admirers; and there was -one of the number, Edward Burton, an enterprising and promising young -man, who sought earnestly to gain her hand. It was all in vain. Rose was -deaf to his entreaties, and laughed at his remonstrances, until he was -obliged to give up his suit. - -In the meanwhile Robert Selwyn was seeking encouragement and advancement -from a foreign people. He continued to follow the sea, but without -returning to his native place. He went out from London, and had risen by -the usual gradation of ship-officers, lastly to captain. At the -expiration of three more years, Rose received another letter from him; -but the time of meeting seemed still further and further in the future. -He knew not when he should return. His employers kept him constantly -engaged, and he hoped in the end to realize an independence; but it -might be long yet before it was accomplished. - -Such was the burden of the letter, and Rose decided promptly on a new -course of action for herself. She had long had it in her mind to leave -home. Her eldest sister was fully competent to take her place in the -management of the house, and the other two were old enough to be -companions and assistants; but Rose felt that she should have to -encounter the opposition of her father. She therefore determined on -making all her arrangements to go before apprising him of her intention. -Much, indeed, then, was the farmer astonished when Rose took her seat by -his side, after he had finished his evening meal, and addressed him as -follows: - -“Father, I am going to New York to live.” - -“Going to New York to live!” repeated he, slowly, as if unable or -unwilling to comprehend her words, “Why what has put that notion in your -head, Rose?” - -“I’ve been thinking of it for a year, father, but put off telling you -till the time came. Last summer, when Mrs. Sandford was here, she often -advised me to go to New York; and a few days ago I had a letter from -her. She says she can get me a situation as teacher in a school, where I -shall have many advantages, and I have made up my mind to accept it.” - -“You ought to have consulted me about it first, Rose; I’m doubtful if it -will be for the best.” - -“Well, I shall do it for the best,” answered Rose, “and if it shouldn’t -turn out so, I can’t help it. You know I’m too much like you, father, to -give up any thing I judge to be right; and I hope you wont blame me for -leaving home now, since Betsey is quite as good a housekeeper as I am.” - -Mr. Winters bent his eyes downward, and was silent. It was not his habit -to betray any outward emotion, but there was grief in his heart. His -fortitude was sorely tried. The departure of Rose would cause a sad -break in his home enjoyments, and the philosophy of the man was -destroyed for the moment, by the feelings of the father. Inwardly he -struggled, till unable to control himself longer, he rose quickly, and -snatching his hat, went out from the house. - -After some time, he returned calm and composed, and simply remarked to -his daughter, “You say you’ve decided to go, Rose, so there’s no use in -arguing—but you’ll find a great change in a city life. If you shouldn’t -like it, come back to your old home—that’s all. Now call the girls in -to prayers—it’s nigh bed-time.” - -Rose did as she was bid—and that night the farmer prayed earnestly and -fervently for the child who was about to quit his protection, and -committed her to the watchful care of Him who neither slumbers nor -sleeps. The prayer over, he retired immediately to his pillow, which was -wet before morning with an old man’s unwonted tears. - -In the course of the following month, Rose was duly installed in the -authority of her new station. Her active and energetic mind, on which -the useful branches of education had been thoroughly grounded, soon -comprehended all the mysteries of her office, while her sprightliness -and good humor, joined to her unusual decision of character, fitted her -admirably for her occupation. The first term of her initiation, however, -passed wearily away. Her spirit pined in the confinement to which she -had voluntarily subjected herself—and with a feeling of _home-sickness_ -gnawing at her heart, she repaired to her patroness, Mrs. Sandford, to -tell her that she could remain no longer. “I get thinking of my father,” -said she, “when I ought to be attending to the lessons—and sometimes my -mind gets so confused, that I almost imagine myself mad, and the school -a bedlam. Indeed, Mrs. Sandford, I cannot engage for another quarter. I -find I was not made for a city life, after all. The confusion distracts -me, and the high houses and narrow streets, make me gloomy and -low-spirited. I feel as if I couldn’t breathe in the smoke and dust -here. Oh, if you only knew how I long for the pure air of the country, -and the sight, once more, of the wild, free ocean.” - -“But, my dear child,” said the lady, “you cannot think of returning now, -in the depth of winter. The communication by water is closed, and you -know it is a three days’ journey by land in the best of traveling. At -present, they say the roads are nearly impassable. Come, take my advice -and content yourself till spring. Believe me, you will not find every -thing as you expect when you return to the country. A short absence from -home, often produces a great change in our own minds, and we are led to -view the same objects in a different light. New impressions of life and -manners frequently destroy the power of old associations to bring back -past happiness; and we are left to experience a painful disappointment, -without being at first sensible that the change is in ourselves. We can -never be again what we were before.” - -Rose listened attentively, and though far from being fully convinced by -the reasoning of Mrs. Sandford, she bent her will to a seeming -necessity, and consented to remain. Naturally buoyant, she rallied her -spirits, and overcame her transient depression. Interested continually -in receiving as well as imparting knowledge, she said no more about -returning home until the summer vacation left her at liberty to revisit -her native town. Then it was that she understood the change which the -more experienced woman of the world had sought to picture to her -imagination. She was once more in the bosom of her family; on the very -spot where life had opened to her with such bright anticipations of -happiness. The same scenes were around her. The extended range of level -country, and “The sea, the open sea,” with its mountainous and heaving -billows, presented itself, as in former days, to her unobstructed view. -What then was lost? It was the simple taste, the unsophisticated mind, -the feelings untainted with the world, and, most of all, the heart at -peace! She was no longer contented. The quietude and sameness of the -country left her too much time for thought; and her restless spirit -wandered again to the thronged and bustling city, and the ceaseless -routine of her labors in the school as a sort of necessary means of -relief. The sight of the ocean grew painful to her, from its reminding -her too forcibly of her absent lover. Selwyn wrote not, came not. Some -said he was married in London, and there came not a word from himself to -contradict the report. - -Edward Burton took advantage of it to renew the offer of his hand to -Rose. - -“No,” answered she, decidedly, “if Cousin Robert is really married, as -people say, my faith in man’s love is destroyed forever. I hope you will -never ask me again, Edward, for my answer will always be the same.” - -So Burton gave her up, and consoled himself by marrying another; and -Rose returned to New York, and again devoted herself to the arduous task -of teaching, which often filled her heart with weariness; yet no one -would have imagined her to be a disappointed girl. _Love-sick_ she was -not; she had too much strength of mind—but she was true-hearted and -constant. Nine years had elapsed since she had heard a word of Selwyn, -and she knew not whether he were living or dead. They had been parted -_fifteen years_; and who will wonder that time had robbed her of some of -her early bloom; but there was an added expression of intellect in her -countenance, and a certain refinement of manner imperceptibly acquired, -which she had never possessed in her father’s house: so that altogether -she was more attractive, more to be admired at thirty-three years of -age, than when she first appeared at eighteen as a country belle. - -And where was Robert Selwyn, while by slow gradations from year to year -this change had been silently wrought in his heart’s first idol. His -migrations in the meantime had been many, and his fortunes varied. -Profits and loss were for some years nearly balanced in his accounts, -but at length the brighter side predominated. Misfortunes and mishaps -were cleared away from his horizon, and his sails swept onward through a -tide of unexpected success. It was then that he began to weary of his -long, self-imposed exile, and turn his thoughts and wishes to home and -“native land.” Energetic in purpose, and prompt in action, he no sooner -formed the resolution of returning than it was put in execution. The -voyage, quickly accomplished, he once more found himself among his old -friends and townsmen, who shook him heartily by the hand, and welcomed -him back with right good will. Some author remarks, that “one of the -greatest pleasures in life, is to be born in a small town, where one is -acquainted with all the inhabitants, and a remembrance clings to every -house.” He no doubt felt this on his first arrival, and his satisfaction -was unalloyed; for, like Rose, he had yet to know himself as he now was. -Most of his youthful companions were married, and settled down into -steady, sober-minded, every-day sort of people—having made but little -improvement either in mind or manners; but they were not slow to -perceive that the Selwyn who had just returned, was quite a different -man from the Selwyn they had formerly known. There was certainly a -change in him, but in what it consisted, they found it impossible to -decide. He lacked nothing in cordiality—he assumed no airs of -superiority—he was neither _elegant_ nor _fashionable_—but he was not -what he used to be. Perhaps it was that he had acquired more manliness -of character; and there was the least bit more of dignity in his -manners; he was the smallest possible degree more guarded in his -expressions; and his frank and easy address was entirely free from the -most distant approach to awkwardness. It is true, he was still the gay -and jovial sailor, noble-spirited and generous to a fault—but he was -more the gentleman, more the man of the world than before he went to -foreign parts; and upon the whole, the conclusion was that he was -greatly improved, and would most likely turn out to be quite a credit to -the town. He had certainly grown handsomer, as he had grown older. His -face wore no traces of any inward discontent or disappointment, and it -is probable that he had worn his love either lightly or hopefully in his -heart. His first inquiry, after his return, however, was for Rose; and -hearing she was in New York, he hastened thither to meet her. It was at -the close of a summer afternoon when he found himself at the door of the -house where he was told she boarded. He inquired for her, walked in, and -sat down in the parlor in the dim light of the fading day, which was -rendered more obscure in the shadow of the curtained windows. - -Rose had gone to her room fatigued and somewhat dispirited. The name of -her visiter was unannounced, and as she descended with a languid step to -the parlor, she was little prepared for the surprise that awaited her. - -Selwyn rose at her entrance with a confused and doubtful air. “I beg -your pardon, madam,” said he, “I called to see Miss Winters—Rose -Winters—I understood she was here.” - -“And so she is, Cousin Robert!” exclaimed Rose. “She is before you, and -yet you do not know her. Am I altered so very much, then?” - -The question was accompanied with a painful blush, from the -consciousness that the bloom of youth in which he had left her, had -passed away forever. - -Selwyn sprang toward her and caught her hand. - -“Rose, my own dear Rose,” said he, with real feeling, “forgive me. No, -you are not altered; but if you were, I should know your voice among a -thousand.” - -“Ah, I know I have grown old, cousin,” said Rose, struggling to recover -herself, “how could it be otherwise, when so many years have passed -since we met.” - -“Well, Rosy, look at me! Has my age stood still, do you think? Look at -the crow’s feet and the gray hair, and tell me if you love me the less -for them. You would be the same to me, if you were twice as old as you -are; for you see I have come back for no earthly reason but to marry -you, unless your own consent is as hard to obtain now as your father’s -was before.” - -“Why, your friends said you were married in London.” - -“No, not my _friends_, Rose. It must have been my _enemies_ who said -that; but _you_ knew better. Didn’t I tell you I would never marry any -one but you?” - -“Yes, fifteen years ago, Cousin Robert—but the promise might be -outlawed by this time, for all I knew. You do not pretend to say that -you thought my faith in your word would hold out, without even receiving -a line from you the last nine years.” - -“Why not pretend to say it, coz, when I know it has. Deny it now if you -can.” - -“But why didn’t you write to me, Robert?” - -“Because I’m no writer, and meant to come myself. You said you’d wait -for me—and I knew you never broke your word. So now, my sweet little -flower, I’ve come to claim you, like a blunt sailor, as I am, with few -words, but a heart full of love, and what is better, something to live -on beside.” - -“You are in a great hurry now,” said Rose, laughing and blushing. -“Suppose you wait a little, seeing you learnt the art so well in your -absence. Why I have not had a chance yet to ask you what kept you away -so long.” - -“Never mind that, coz. There ’ill be plenty of time hereafter. Answer my -question first, whether you mean to have me or not, and let me know -which way to shape my course. If you’ve changed your mind, and lost your -affection for me, just say so at once, and I’m off to sea in the first -ship. You’ll never be troubled with me again.” - -“What an unreasonable man you are,” said Rose, “just as impatient and -headstrong as before you went away.” - -“You knew all my faults, dearest, long, long ago,” said Selwyn. “They -did not hinder you from loving me once. Love me still, Rose, as you once -did. Be mine, as you promised you would before we parted, and you shall -make me what you please.” - -Rose was silent. Her lover’s arm was around her, and memory was holding -its mirror to her mind: and when she did speak at length, her voice was -low and indistinct, and her words nearly unintelligible. The spirit of -them may be guessed, however, from the fact that Selwyn did not go to -sea, and she resigned her situation as teacher, and returned with him to -her former home. The wedding was soon after celebrated with the sanction -of her father, and but one source of regret to Rose, that the old -minister, who in her youthful days was the pastor of her native village, -had been removed in the meanwhile to another world, and the ceremony of -her marriage was performed by a stranger. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: THE MINIATURE.] - - * * * * * - - - - - THE ZOPILOTES. - - - BY FAYETTE ROBINSON. - - - [A Mexican soldier, being grievously wounded in one of the - battles of Hidalgo, was deserted by his victorious companions. - Unable to defend himself against the numerous Zopilotes, or - vultures, which hovered around him, he put an end to his life - with his own hand.] - - I feel the motion of each heavy wing— - I hear the rustling of the air they cleave— - The shadows they, like sombre phantoms, fling - Closely around and o’er me, hovering, - Beget wild fears, which busy fancies weave - Into a dreadful certainty. - - I hear the war-cry on the distant field! - I see the dust, by charging squadrons cart; - The cannon’s blaze, the flash of burnished steel; - Bright banner’s wave, the rapid march and wheel, - Where every step may be, perhaps, the last - A soldier e’er may take. - - Closely, more closely, still I see them sweep, - Their wings are furled, and eagerly, they tread, - Yet silently, as one who walks in sleep, - Swiftly, as tyrant monsters of the deep - Rush on their helpless prey, which seems to dread - Far, far too much to fly. - - Ye whom I loved, my brethren of the sword, - With whom I left my distant mountain-home, - Come, come to me. Alas! no single word - I speak will ever by your ears be heard, - Where battle cries, the trump and stirring drum, - Salute your victory. - - Was it for this I left my mother’s side, - And bade to her I loved a last adieu, - The dark-eyed girl I won to be my bride? - Was it to watch this warm, empurpled tide - Of life come gurgling, like a fountain, through - My rent and gaping breast? - - Wounded, alone, upon the field of strife, - The shouts of victory upon mine ear, - My comrades joyous, or bereft of life, - Martyrs, with fame and glory ever rife— - I do not dread to die alone e’en here, - As yon brave men have died. - - But oh, great God! I would not feel the beak - Of yon dark vulture tear away my heart; - Not that I wish my failing strength to eke— - A soldier’s death it was my joy to seek, - Wounded, alone, I have no other art - To save me. Let me die. - - * * * * * - - - - - HISTORY OF THE COSTUME OF MEN, - - - DURING THE EIGHTEENTH AND THE BEGINNING OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. - - - BY FAYETTE ROBINSON. - - - (_Continued from page 198._) - -Nor does the following present a much greater difference, and, but for -the ear-rings and knee-breeches, would pass muster even now amid our -infinite varieties of _palelots_, _sacks_ and _Hongroises_. The -boot-black represented in the cut is a miniature _bonnet-rouge_. - -[Illustration] - -It is worth while to state that costumes, like opinions, reproduce -themselves. As the ideas which were once in vogue, and have been -abandoned, return and resume their influence and orthodoxy, so do the -costumes of other days continually reappear, it is true, with a -difference often striking enough, for men no longer wear either coats of -mail or inexpressibles of velvet, yet the Norman cloak of the Black -Prince, and the _sack_ of Lauzun, the handsome French colonel, who, -during our own Revolutionary war, turned the heads and carried away the -hearts of half the women of Philadelphia, are still every day to be -seen. - -The same thing is observable in female costume. The long waists, tight -sleeves and full skirts of old times have returned, and even the -ungainly ruffs of Queen Elizabeth’s age have shown a disposition to -return. The mode of dressing the hair is also retracing itself, so that -there is little real difference between the traditional court-dress of -former times and that of every-day life worn at present, except the -train. - -The following is a caricature of that day, but scarcely more outré than -the bearded creatures from time to time seen in our own streets. It may -be remarked that the passion for hair on the face always is consequent -on a war. In the time of Henri IV, all the world was bearded; so during -the days of Cromwell were his ironsides, and now men who never saw a -shot fired, force the sublime into the ridiculous, by parading a -moustache in every thoroughfare throughout the country. - -[Illustration] - -Who knows but that our own Mexican war may exert an influence on dress, -and that some day the Ranchero’s striped blanket and broad-brimmed hat -may become the fashion. Men will stalk about the streets in boots of -cow-hide, and instead of hunting with dogs and rifles, the _lazo_ or -_lariette_ will be adopted universally. All the world knows that -immediately after the return of the army of the Duke of Wellington to -England, from Waterloo, the military black stock was adopted, and it may -be that the green pantaloons with the brown stripe, now worn, are an -imitation of the dress of the Mexican veterans who were defeated at -Cherebusco. The same may be said of the cloth caps, with the covers of -oil-skin, now so much in vogue. It may be remarked that this article of -dress has always followed the _tenue_ of the army, the flat cap -replacing the hussar’s, as the latter did the old gig-top leather -apparatus. - -Other nations of Europe did not participate in the French Revolution, -but became imitators of the costumes it created. We have now come to the -period of the Directory, which exerted its influence on costume, or -rather the influence of which was reflected by the costume of the day. - -The Directory and Consulate saw all France seized with fury for the -antique. These were the days of the _Romaines_ and _Atheniennes_, when -David was toiling with the pencil to effect a reform of costume, and -when Talma sought to introduce correct ideas of dress on the stage. The -men of Paris still adhered to the English costume, which, fortified by -their _fiat_, became that of the world. They compromised their English -predilections, however, so far as to wear their hair _à la Titus_ or _à -la Caracalla_, what that was may be seen from the following engraving. - -[Illustration] - -They seemed, however, to struggle to make this costume as unbecoming as -possible, wearing the coats loose, the collars immense, the breasts -small, and such pantaloons and _shocking bad_ hats as were never seen -before or since. The costume of a dandy of 1798 consisted of a blue -coat, a white waistcoat, open in the breast, a finely worked -shirt-bosom, fastened with a diamond pin, a huge muslin cravat, Nankin -pantaloons, with black stripes down the seams, and thrust into the -boots. (In society the boot was replaced by a small and pointed shoe.) -The everlasting bludgeon was as indispensable in the street as the boots -and the hat. To young Thelusson, when thus dressed and armed, Madame de -Stael, who wore an oriental _toilette_, said, “Citizen, you bear the -sceptre of ridicule.” “Madame,” replied he, “you are certainly competent -to award it to whom you please.” Never were there so many strange -costumes seen in any one city as in Paris at that time, when _peruques_, -powder, hair _à la Titus_, cocked and round hats all were mingled -together. Costume was indeed republican if the government was despotic. - - [_Conclusion in our next._ - - * * * * * - - - - - THE BEAUTIFUL OF EARTH. - - - All Nature’s beauteous forms, of light, of earth, or air, or sky, - Compare not with the flexile frame, the lustrous, speaking eye; - The opening flower, the rainbow tint, the blue and star-lit dome, - Are things of naught, in contrast with the angels of our home: - All gentle acts, all noble thoughts, of Heaven-directed birth, - Are centered in the fair and good, the beautiful of earth. - - * * * * * - - - - - WILD-BIRDS OF AMERICA. - - - BY PROFESSOR FROST. - - -[Illustration: CAROLINA OR MOCKING WREN.] - -This interesting bird is strictly southern in its habits, being rarely -found north of Maryland and Delaware, while it abounds during the whole -year in the warmer states. Occasionally it strays to the vicinity of -Philadelphia and even of New York; but this is so seldom that the -indefatigable Wilson never found its nest north of the Maryland line. -Like the House-Wren it is a sprightly, industrious and familiar bird, -and a general favorite in the neighborhood where it abounds. Other -qualities render its nature so ambiguous that some have hesitated to -place it among the Wrens. One of the most remarkable of these is its -power of imitating the songs of other birds. With much sweetness and -accuracy it blends its own notes with the simple twittering of the -Ground-Robin, the harsh noise of the Woodpecker, the trilling of the -Blackbird and Warbler, and the whistling of the Cardinal. These are its -favorite imitations; but its powers of mimicry embrace the songs of -almost all our forest-birds. But notwithstanding this capriciousness in -sounds, the Carolina Wren is said to have a favorite theme, repeated -more regularly than any other. Nuttall thus pleasantly describes it. -“This was the first sound that I heard from him, delivered with great -spirit, though in the dreary month of January. This sweet and melodious -ditty, _tsee-toot_, _tsee-toot_, _tsee-toot_, and sometimes _tsee-toot_, -_tsee toot-seet_, was usually uttered in a somewhat plaintive or tender -strain, varied at each repetition with the most delightful and delicate -tones, of which no conception can be formed without experience. That -this song has a sentimental air may be conceived from its interpretation -by the youths of the country, who pretend to hear it say, _sweet-heart_, -_sweet-heart_, _sweet_! nor is the illusion more than the natural truth, -for, usually, this affectionate ditty is answered by its mate, sometimes -in the same note, at others in a different call. In most cases, it will -be remarked, that the phrases of our songster are uttered in 3s; by this -means it will be generally practicable to distinguish its performance -from that of other birds, and particularly from the Cardinal Grosbeak, -whose expression it often closely imitates, both in power and delivery. -I shall never, I believe, forget the soothing satisfaction and amusement -I derived from this little constant and unwearied minstrel, my sole -vocal companion through many weary miles of a vast, desolate, and -otherwise cheerless wilderness.” - -The food of the Carolina Wren consists of the insects found in old -timber, and along the banks of streams, places which it delights to -frequent. It is found among the thick cypress swamps of the south even -in the middle of winter. It can see well in the dark, sometimes -searching food in caves, where to most other day birds objects would be -undistinguishable. Its building places are a barn, or stable, some old -decayed tree, or even a post-fence. The female lays from five to eight -eggs, of a dusky white, mottled with brown. Two broods are raised in a -season, and sometimes even three. The adult bird is five and a quarter -inches long, of a chestnut brown, beautifully mottled with black and -other colors. The female differs little in color from the male. - -[Illustration: THE CARDINAL BIRD.] - -This bird is known under the names of Virginia Red Bird, Virginia -Nightingale and Crested Red Bird. It is one of the most beautiful of -American songsters, and in power and sweetness of tone it has been -compared with the Nightingale. The species belongs mostly to the United -States and Mexico, but has been found in considerable numbers in the -West Indies, Central America and Colombia. Although delighting in a -southern clime, it is sometimes observed in Pennsylvania, and even New -England. - -Being migratory, it often flies in large flocks, presenting a splendid -appearance, especially when moving in relief over a clear sky, and in -the rays of the sun. At other times several of these birds are found -associated with Sparrows, Snow-Birds and other half domestic species. -When alone his favorite haunts are the corn-field, small clumps of -trees, and the borders of shaded rivulets. Corn is their favorite food, -in addition to which they eat seeds of fruit, grain and insects. They -are easily domesticated, even when taken quite old, and require very -little trouble in order to thrive well. Loss of color, however, has -often been the result of long confinement, although with care this might -perhaps be obviated. They are lively in the cage, and maintain their -powers of song to the last. Numbers of them are carried to France and -England, where they are highly esteemed. Their time of song lasts from -March to September. - -The Cardinal Bird’s song consists of a favorite stanza often repeated, -with boldness, variety of tone and richness. Its whistling somewhat -resembles that of the human voice, though its energy is much greater. In -his native grove, his voice rises above almost every other songster -except the Mocking-Bird. The powers of the female are almost equal to -those of the male, of whom she is a most constant and affectionate -partner. - -Latham admits that the notes of the Cardinal “are almost equal to those -of the Nightingale,” the sweetest of the feathered minstrels of Europe. -But, says Nuttall, “the style of their performance is wholly different. -The bold martial strains of the Red Bird, though relieved by tender and -exquisite touches, possess not the enchanting pathos, the elevated and -varied expression of the far-famed Philomel, nor yet those contrasted -tones, which, in the solemn stillness of the growing night, fall at -times into a soothing whisper, or slowly rise and quicken into a loud -and cheering warble.” - -The Cardinal Bird measures eight inches in length, and eleven from the -tip of one wing to that of the other. The whole upper parts are of a -dull dusky-red, except the sides of the neck, head and lower parts, -which are of a clear vermilion. The chin, front and lores black. The -head is ornamented with a high pointed crest. The bill is coral red, and -the legs and feet are pale ash color. The female is somewhat less than -the male, and a little different in color. Both sexes are noted for -affection to their young, and to each other; but so jealous are the -males that they have often been known to destroy those of their own sex. - - * * * * * - - - - - JENNY LIND. - - - BY MISS M. SAWIN. - - - A world’s sweet enchantress, unbounded in fame, - O how shall I sing of so peerless a name— - Thy tones, from the wilds of a picturesque land, - The billows of ocean have borne to our strand; - Though I ne’er have beheld thee, yet bound in thy spell, - My bosom thine echoes still onward would swell— - Would enshrine in my song the sweet soul of thy strains, - Till fresh incense should rise from our mountains and plains. - Though long on the altar thou’st kindled the fire, - Oh how shall it burn on the strings of the lyre! - ’Tis the music of Nature sublimed in thy lays - Which has won thee thy guerdon of lore and of praise; - ’Tis hence that the depths of the spirit it thrills, - That responses start forth from mountains and hills, - That no barriers the flight of thine echoes can bind, - Which are borne o’er the earth on the wings of the wind. - - There is glowing within us, all restless, a lyre, - Which would swell like an angel’s its anthems of fire, - But the shroud of mortality fetters its strings— - Yet thou while on earth hast unfolded thy wings, - Canst dwell with the fairies in chalice of flowers, - And glide with the wood nymphs in deep sylvan bowers; - Canst float with the moonbeams in dew-silvered trees, - And rise on the wings of the morn’s fragrant breeze, - While sunbeams are waking the rapturous lays - Of dew-drops and birds, and yet all ’neath their blaze; - Canst hover o’er ocean when storm it enthrones, - And bear from the foam-crested surges their tones; - When dark are the skies and the thunder-clouds lower, - With the eagle’s bold flight to the mountain’s crest soar; - The streams of the forest to their fountains canst wind, - And caverns resounding in solitude find; - Enshrined in thy spirit their voices canst keep, - Sublimed by thine alchemy subtile and deep, - At thy will from thy spirit their harmonies sweep, - And I ween thou hast soared to the portals of Heaven, - Or some angel a tone to thy praises has given. - - O, Jenny, the brightest cynosure below! - The fount in thy bosom must here cease to flow; - Like the sear leaves of autumn which shroud the old years, - Thy harp-strings must perish ’mid wailings and tears; - Thy lovers who bend at thy purity’s shrine, - Enchained by the spells of thy carols divine, - When no temple’s proud arches resound with thy strain, - In the wilds of thy forests shall seek thee in vain; - But when from thy tomb they despairing return, - In lyres immortal thine echoes shall burn. - Alas! that thy music should ever here die, - Should leave the sad earth and ascend to the sky; - Yet when thou art fled to the seraphim throng - Will fancy yet list to thy glorified song, - Will dream that no harp on the heavenly plains - Has music so sweet as are there thy high strains. - Though we never may list while on earth to thy lays, - For the boon of thy being high Heaven we’ll praise; - Where thy strains are ascending must Paradise be— - Humanity’s scale is exalted in thee. - - There is a tone in my bosom as yet unexpressed, - And fain would I bid it to ever there rest, - But the woes of the earth for its utterance plead, - Then may it go forth as a merciful deed:— - O, Jenny, while shining so brilliant on high, - Like the Lyrian star on the vault of the sky, - While the peers of the realms bow in homage to thee, - Dost never thy race in their miseries see? - To the charm of thy music we ever would yield, - By thee would be borne to Elysium’s field, - And forgetful that wrong or that wo were on earth, - Forever would list to thine angel-like mirth. - But the heart fraught with sympathies true, must embrace - The lowest as well as the stars of our race— - Round the poor and the wretched in bitterness twine— - On devotion’s wings rise to where pure seraphs shine;— - In our pathway to Heaven we encounter the thorn, - Each brother’s woes feel and the proud tyrant’s scorn— - The way that our holy Redeemer has trod - But leads us through tears to the throne of our God. - I know that thine own gushing spirit is free - As the winds that o’ersweep the high mountains and sea; - Thy genius has burst from all species of chains, - And freedom unbounded swells forth in thy strains; - But while ever exulting on fetterless wing, - Wouldst not the blest boon to each lorn spirit bring? - Thy music, which thrills to the depths of the heart, - Might bid us to deeds of true chivalry start; - Might bid the kind fountain in proud bosoms flow, - To heal the crushed hearts that are writhing in wo. - Both Knowledge and Virtue like angels descend, - The sad thralls of Sin and of Darkness to rend, - Perchance that the tyrant may yield to thy charms, - And avert the dread doom of the Future’s alarms, - Till unwilling vassals no more bend the knee, - But rise at his bidding and ever be free. - And the gold thou hast won by the charm of thy name, - To its splendor might add the philanthropist’s fame, - Till many an oasis from deserts shall spring, - When the arches of Heaven with thy praises shall ring. - - * * * * * - - - - - STORM-LINES. - - - BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. - - -When the rains of November are dark on the hills, and the pine-trees - incessantly roar -To the sound of the wind-beaten crags, and the floods that in foam through - their black channels pour: - -When the breaker-lined coast stretches dimly afar, through the desolate - waste of the gale, -And the clang of the sea-gull at nightfall is heard from the deep, like a - mariner's wail: - -When the gray sky drops low, and the forest is bare, and the laborer is - housed from the storm, -And the world is a blank, save the light of his home through the gust - shining redly and warm:— - -Go thou forth, if the brim of thy heart with its tropical fullness of life - overflow— -If the sun of thy bliss in the zenith is hung, and no shadow reminds thee - of wo! - -Leave the home of thy love; leave thy labors of fame; in the rain and the - darkness go forth, -When the cold winds unpausingly wail as they drive from the cheerless - expanse of the North. - -Thou shalt turn from the cup that was mantling before; thou shalt hear the - eternal despair -Of the hearts that endured and were broken at last, from the hills and the - sea and the air! - -Thou shalt hear how the Earth, the maternal, laments for the children she - nurtured with tears— -How the forest but deepens its wail and the breakers their roar, with the - march of the years! - -Then the gleam of thy hearth-fire shall dwindle away, sad the lips of thy - loved ones be still: -And thy soul shall lament in the moan of the storm, sounding wide on the - shelterless hill. - -All the woes of existence shall stand at thy heart, and the sad eyes of - myriads implore, -In the darkness and storm of their being, the ray, streaming out through - thy radiant door. - -Look again: how that star of thy Paradise dims, through the warm tears, - unwittingly shed— -Thou art man, and a sorrow so bitterly wrung, never fell on the dust of - the Dead! - -Let the rain of the midnight beat cold on thy cheek, and the proud pulses - chill in thy frame, -Till the love of thy bosom is grateful and sad, and thou turn'st from the - mockery of Fame! - -Take with humble acceptance the gifts of thy life; bid thy joy brim the - fountain of tears; -For the soul of the Earth, in endurance and pain, gathers promise of - happier years! - - * * * * * - - - - - REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. - - - _The Child of the Sea and Other Poems. By Mrs. S. Anna Lewis, - Author of “Records of the Heart,” etc. etc. New York: George P. - Putnam._ - -A large edition of “Records of the Heart” was sold in a few months, and -the fair author stepped at once into a very enviable position. “The -Child of the Sea,” etc. will add much to her poetical fame. The poem -which gives name to the volume, and occupies most of it, is a romantic -and passionate narrative, and embodies all the main features of Mrs. -Lewis’s thought as well as manner. The story is well conducted and -somewhat elaborately handled; the style, or general tone, is nervous, -free, dashing—much in the way of Maria del Occidente—but the principal -ground for praise is to be found in the great aggregate of quotable -passages. The opening lines, for example, are singularly vivid: - - Where blooms the myrtle and the olive flings - Its aromatic breath upon the air— - Where the sad Bird of Night forever sings - Meet anthems for the Children of Despair. - -The _themes_ of the poem—a few lines farther on—are summed up in words -of Byronic pith and vigor:— - - ——youthful Love, - Ill-starred, yet trustful, truthful and sublime - As ever angels chronicled above— - The sorrowings of Beauty in her prime— - Virtue’s reward—the punishment of Crime— - The dark, inscrutable decrees of Fate— - Despair, untold before in prose or rhyme. - - * * * * * - -We give a few more instances of what we term “quotable” -passages—thoughtful, vivid, pungent or vigorous: - - Fresh blows the breeze on Tarick’s burnished bay— - The silent sea-mews bend them through the spray— - The beauty-freighted barges bound afar - To the soft music of the gay guitar. . . . . . - - * * * * * - - The olive children of the Indian Sea. - - * * * * * - - That rayless realm where Fancy never beams— - That Nothingness beyond the Land of Dreams. - - * * * * * - - Folded his arms across his sable vest - As if to keep the heart within his breast. - - * * * * * - - ——Violets lifting up their azure eyes - Like timid virgins whom Love’s steps surprise. - - * * * * * - - And all is hushed—so still—so silent there - That one might hear an angel wing the air. - - * * * * * - - ——There are times when the sick soul - Lies calm amid the storms that ’round it roll, - Indifferent to Fate or to what haven - By the terrific tempest it is driven. - - * * * * * - - The dahlias, leaning from the golden vase, - Peer pensively into her pallid face, - While the sweet songster o’er the oaken door - Looks through his grate and warbles “weep no more!” - - * * * * * - - ——beauteous in her misery— - A jewel sparkling up through the dark sea - Of Sorrow. - - * * * * * - - Delirium’s world of fantasy and pain, - Where hung the fiery moon and stars of blood - And phantom ships rolled on the rolling flood. - -“_Isabelle or The Broken Heart_” occupies some 40 pages, and is fully as -good as “The Child of the Sea”—although in a very different way. There -is less elaboration, perhaps, but not less true polish, and even more -imagination. - -The “Miscellaneous Poems” are, of course, varied in merit. Some of them -have been public favorites for a long time. “My Study,” especially, has -been often quoted and requoted. It is terse and vigorous. From “The -Beleagured Heart” we extract a quatrain of very forcible originality: - - I hear the mournful moans of joy— - _Hope, sobbing while she cheers_— - Like dew descending from the leaf - The dropping of Love’s tears. - -The volume is most exquisitely printed and bound—one of the most -beautiful books of the season. - - * * * * * - - _The History of England, from the Accession of James II. By - Thomas Babington Macaulay. New York: Harper & Brothers. Vols. 1 - and 2. 8vo._ - -No person, of whig or tory politics, could in the present age, propose -to himself the task of writing the history of England, without feeling -the delicacy and responsibility of his undertaking, and the necessity of -exercising a different class of powers from those which may have given -sparkle and point to his partisan efforts. The importance of the -principles involved in the events and characters coming under his view, -and their wide applications to contemporary controversies, would be sure -to bring down upon the unlucky advocate a storm of moral and immoral -indignation. It would seem on the first blush that Macaulay, with all -his vast and vivified erudition, was not a writer calculated to -experience the full force of a historian’s duties, or to display in the -analysis and judgment of events that intellectual conscientiousness -which is a rare quality even in powerful minds. His historical essays -bear as unmistakable marks of partisanship as ability, and are -especially characterized by a merciless severity, which, in the name of -justice, too often loses the insight us well as the toleration which -come from charity. Sir James Macintosh, toward the commencement of his -career, referred to him as “a writer of consummate ability, who has -failed in little but in the respect due to the abilities and character -of his opponents.” Though as a partisan, Macaulay was a partisan on the -right side, on the side of liberty and truth, the unmeasured scorn he -poured, hot from his heart, on tyrants and bigots, and the fierce, swift -sweep of his generalizations, often made his cooler readers suspicious -of his accuracy when most dazzled and delighted by his brilliancy. In -the present history a great change is manifest. The petulance, the -flippancy, the dogmatism of the essayist, are hardly observable, and in -their place we have the solid judgment of the historian. There is a -general lowering of the tone in which persons and principles are -considered, consequent upon the change in the writer’s position from an -antagonist to a judge. The style, while it has no lack of the force, -richness, variety, directness and brilliancy, which characterized the -diction of the essayist, has likewise a sweetness, gravity and composure -which the essayist never displayed. Though the writer’s opinions are -radically the same as ever, they are somewhat modified by being seen -through a less extravagant expression, and by being restored to their -proper relations. In fact, the history presents Macaulay as a wiser and -more comprehensive man than his essays, and if we sometimes miss the -generous warmth and intensity, and the daring sweep of his earlier -compositions, we also miss their declamatory contemptuousness and mental -bombast. - -The volumes which the Harpers have given to us in so elegant a form, -(vulgarized a little by Dr. Webster’s ortho-graphical crotchets,) close -with the proceedings of the Convention which gave the crown to William -and Mary. A long historical introduction, containing a view of English -history previous to the reign of James II., and a view of England, in -its manners, customs, literature and people at the time of his -accession, occupy the larger portion of the first volume, and are almost -unmatched, certainly unexcelled, in historical literature, for the -combination of condensed richness of matter with popularity of style. -Then follows the narrative of the three years of folly and madness which -produced the revolution of 1688, and hurled James II. from his throne. -This narrative is detailed with a minuteness which leaves nothing untold -necessary to the complete apprehension of the subject in all its -bearings, and it evinces on almost every page not only singular felicity -in narration, but great power of original and striking observation. -Masterly generalization, and sagacity in seizing and luminousness in -unfolding the principles of events. The whole history has the interest -of a grand dramatic poem, in which the movement of the story and -delineation of the characters are managed with consummate skill. The -portraits of Charles II., James II., Danby, Rochester, Sunderland, -Godolphin, Halifax, Churchill, and especially William of Orange, are -altogether superior to any which have previously appeared. Halifax and -King William seem to be Macaulay’s favorites, and he has surprised many -of his readers by his comparative coolness to Russell, Sydney, and the -whig patriots generally. - -The history closes with an eloquent passage on the “glorious” Revolution -of 1688. It appears to us that the meanness and lowness which Macaulay -has developed in the actors in the event, impress the reader with a -different notion of it. The whole thing has a jobby air, in which no -commanding genius is observable, and no sacrifices seem to have been -made. Indeed Macaulay himself, in one of his essays, remarks truly that -the only sacrifices made in the Revolution, “was the sacrifice which -Churchill made of honor and Anne of natural affection.” That the -Revolution, in its results, was one of the most glorious recorded in -human annals, there can be little doubt, but it had its birth in such -odious treachery, and was conducted by men so deficient in elevation of -mind or even common honesty, that its story is little calculated to -kindle sympathy, or awaken admiration. - - * * * * * - - _The History of England from the Peace of Utrecht to the Peace - of Paris. By Lord Mahon. Edited by Henry Reed, Professor of - English Literature in the University of Pennsylvania. New York: - D. Appleton & Co. 2 vols. 8vo._ - -The author of this history is all English nobleman of large historical -acquirements, who has managed to produce two or three valuable works -demanding great study and research, without interfering with his duties -as a member of Parliament, though, doubtless with some interference with -his pleasures as a member of the English aristocracy. The present work -is valuable for its accuracy, and interesting from its giving a -connected view of the history of England during a period but little -known except by the empty abstracts of stupid compilers, or the -brilliant but prejudiced letters and memoirs of contemporary writers and -statesmen. It comprehends the administrations of Harley and Bolingbroke, -of Stanhope, Walpole, Carteret, Newcastle and Chatham, thus including -the latter years of the reign of Queen Anne and the reigns of George I. -and II. The period covers a wide field of characters and events, and -Lord Mahon has been especially successful in unraveling the threads of -the foreign policy of England, and indicating the difficulties -experienced by her statesmen in sustaining the House of Hanover on the -throne. In a narrative point of view the best portions of the history -are those relating to the rebellions of 1715 and 1745. It is almost -needless to say that Professor Reed has added much to the value and -interest of the work by his elucidative notes. - -But the richness of Lord Mahon’s materials and the interest of his -subject cannot conceal the fact that he lacks both the heart and the -brain of an able historian, and that he is essentially a common-place -man. The reflections he appends to some of his narratives are commonly -such obvious truisms, or such poor apologies for reason, that the reader -is made painfully aware of his being in the company of a mediocre -gentleman, who, while he always means well, never means much. Lord Mahon -is deficient equally in historical science and historical imagination, -and his work equally barren of profound principles and vivid pictures. A -moderate tory, he holds the hearsays of his creed with a lazy -acquiescence, without sufficient passion to be a bigot, and without -sufficient logic to be a sophist. When he is tempted into historical -parallels, or disquisitions on the changes of parties, as in that -passage where he essays to prove that a modern whig is synonymous with a -tory of Queen Anne’s day, he adopts the argumentation of Fluellen rather -than Chillingworth—shows that “there is a mountain in Wales and a -mountain in Macedon,” and leaves the reader to mourn over the -misdirection of the human faculties. In his estimate of literature he is -still worse. The disquisition on the literature of Queen Anne’s time, in -the present history, is a medley of mingled commonplace, which has been -worn to rags, and critical nonsense, which has been long exploded. His -history, therefore, must be considered simply as a useful narrative of -important events, and carefully distinguished from those of Guizot and -Thierrey, of Hallam and Macaulay, of Prescott and Bancroft. - - * * * * * - - _Leaves from Margaret Smith’s Journal in the Province of - Massachusetts Bay, 1678-9. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 1 - vol. 16mo._ - -This beautifully printed volume sustains both the reputation of its -publishers for printing handsome books, and its reputed author for -writing good ones. It is generally attributed to Whittier, and it -certainly displays throughout the shrewdness with which that poet -observes, and the facility with which he idealizes events. Here is a -volume bringing up to the eye with the vividness of reality the scenes -and characters of a past age, and making us as familiar with them as if -we had ridden by the side of Margaret in her journey from Boston to -Newbury, and yet through the whole book runs a vein of pure poetry, -lending a consecrating light to scenes which might possess but little -interest if actually observed. The quaint spelling undoubtedly adds to -the illusion of its antiquity, but what makes it really seem old is its -primitive sentiment and bold delineations. Margaret herself is a most -bewitching piece of saintliness, with the sweetness and purity of one of -Jeremy Taylor’s sermons, and as full of genial humanity as of beautiful -devotion. Placed as she is amid the collision of opposite fanaticisms, -the austere fanaticism of the Puritan and the vehement fanaticism of the -Quaker, she shines both by her own virtues and by contrast with the -harsh qualities by which she is surrounded. The book provokes a -comparison with the Diary of Lady Willoughby, and that comparison it -will more than stand, being superior to that charming volume in the -range of its persons and events, and equal to it in the conception of -the leading character. The author has shown especial art in modifying -every thing, by the supposed medium of mind through which it passes—the -heroine telling the whole story in her own words—and at the same time -preserving every thing in its essential life. This is a difficult and -delicate process of representation, but Whittier has performed it. - - * * * * * - - _Democracy in France. By Monsieur Guizot, Late Prime Minister. - New York: D. Appleton & Co._ - -This little volume is well worthy the reputation of one of the greatest -historians, philosophers and statesmen at the age—in other words, of -the reputation of Guizot. It is marked by preeminent ability in -statement, analysis, argumentation and composition, and we doubt not -will exert some considerable influence on the politics of France. In his -preface the author avers that nothing in the volume bears the impress of -his personal situation, and he adds, “While events of such magnitude are -passing before his eyes, a man who did not forget himself would deserve -to be forever forgotten.” The book justifies the author’s assertion. It -is simply an examination of things without regard to persons, and is as -philosophic in its tone as in its method. The chapters on The Social -Republic and The Elements of Society are masterpieces of analysis and -statement, and well deserve the attentive study of all who think or -prattle on social science. It seems to us that the present volume is -sufficient to convince all candid minds, that whatever may be the faults -and errors of Guizot as a statesman, he has no equal among the men at -present dominant in France. Since his fall that country has been -governed, or misgoverned, by soldiers and sentimentalists, with a pistol -in one hand and the Rights of Man in the other, and is a standing -monument of the madness of trusting the state to men of “second rate -ability and first rate incapacity.” The Red Republicans have principles; -M. Guizot has principles; the legitimists have principles; but the -present dynasty has the peculiar character of being, in an intellectual -sense, the most thoroughly unprincipled government that French ingenuity -could have formed. - - * * * * * - - _Oregon and California. By J. Quinn Thornton. New York: Harper & - Brothers, 1849._ - -A pleasant book, well written, and containing much information just now, -peculiarly valuable in relation to Oregon and California. Many strange -phases of life in the wilderness and prairie, are described by one who -knows its peculiar hardships and pleasures. The terrible sufferings, the -awful stories told of the early emigrants, are faithfully given, and, if -official accounts be true, are scarcely exaggerated. A valuable appendix -on the gold country is added, undoubtedly to be relied on. The book is -well illustrated in wood. - - * * * * * - - _The Parterre, a Collection of Flowers Culled by the Wayside. By - D. W. Belisle. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippencott & Co., 1849._ - -A pretty looking volume, very creditable to the publishers in a -typographical point of view, and containing a number of poems of various -lengths, on a variety of subjects. The longest, Wallenpaupack, is an -attempt, and a very creditable one also, to commemorate an incident of -the history of the North American Indian, a source of poetical subjects -too much neglected. The book is well worth attention. It may not be -uninteresting to state that the type has all been set up by the author. - - * * * * * - - _Roland Cashel. By Charles Lever. Illustrated by Phiz. New York: - Harper & Brothers._ - -This is probably the best novel of one of the most popular novelists of -the day. Lever has not much solidity of mind, and accordingly never -produces any masterpieces of characterization or passion, but he has a -quicksilver spirit of frolic and drollery, and an intensity of mirthful -feeling which have made some critics place him on a level with Dickens. -The present volume will more than sustain the reputation which his -former frolicksome audacities have attained. - - * * * * * - - - - - EDITOR’S TABLE. - - - “GRAHAM” TO “JEREMY SHORT.” - - -MY DEAR JEREMY,—In my last I promised you a reminding hint, a sketch -reflective and suggestive of mining operations, as an offset to the -brilliant visions of “Gold Placers,” which haunt the mind, sleeping and -waking, of Uncle Sam’s children. While multitudes are making haste to -grow rich, by going around the Horn, and at the terminus of their long -voyage will find themselves coming out of the little end of it, you and -I may amuse ourselves over a subject somewhat kindred—a retrospective -folly—feeling the while a good deal like the boy on getting rid of the -jumping tooth-ache—“a _heap_ better” are we, “now it is over.” - -_Copper!_ You have heard of it before, I believe? and may have about you -a memorandum of a few thousands, entered on the credit side, not -available now at your bankers. It was a very happy delusion, was it not? -I’ll warrant me that you had already planned your cottage orné and had -the walks laid out, and the shrubbery planted quite tastefully and -imaginatively picturesque. Several castles, with steeples rather airy, -of my own, were toppled down, and elegantly bronzed as they were, are -quite useless now for purposes of reproduction, so that we may say, that -we have had some of the advantages of wealth without a present care in -disposing of it. The servant girl who wished for riches “that she might -ride in her carriage and feel like missus,” had the delights of -anticipation only, poor soul! while ours are embodied in the delicious -reflection of having passed that “missus” on the road, with a pair of -fast trotters—taking the air with quite an air, at the rate of “two -forty.” - -“Come easy, go fast,” was the remark of an old German Uncle, who, having -made a fortune by hard knocks at the anvil, looked with a quiet smile at -these thousands in perspective. In regard to the _horses_, the old -gentleman was right—but as the _money_ never came, I think his premises -were altogether wrong. One thing is certain, real estate rose very -rapidly in our vicinity at that time, and as several lots went off at -spanking prices, to be kept out of our clutches, we may be said to have -been benefactors to the sellers and conveyancers. So that _copper_—the -vilest of metal—may, in some crucibles, be transformed into gold. But -not to anticipate. - - * * * * * - -_Grubemout_ had been upon the mountain-side, which overlooks the -delightful village of Fleeceington, for a month or more, making careful -chiselings from rocks, and excavations at their sides. UPTOSNUFF carried -his pick-axe and his basket. The “collection” gradually swelled upon -their hands, until it became quite formidable; and the “choice -specimens,” were without number, rich, and without reason, _rare_. -DRAWITWELL, the host of “The Hawk and Buzzard,” had his eye upon their -movements, and always made it a point to take a peep at their basket -when they descended in the evening. He was an open-eyed sort of an old -lark, who had had his own way in the village at election times and at -trainings, by virtue of a colonelcy and aidship to the governor—a cheap -sort of payment for service rendered—and he felt as if nothing of -importance ought to transpire in the place, unless he had a hand in it. -Drawitwell did not like the air of mystery with which his lodgers -slipped the covered basket up stairs, after they had performed their -ablutions; nor the roaring noise made overhead, as the “specimens” were -poured into the two great chests, previously prepared; and he was just -the man to get at the bottom of a mare’s nest. So, by virtue of -appliances best known to himself, he contrived to get a look at the -collected specimens, and made up his mind at once that the thing was too -slily managed by half, and that if there was wealth in the rocks he -would have a finger in the transaction. “_He would at any rate._” - -Crispin, the village cobbler, had thrown _his_ eyes from his lapstone, -across the creek, and up the hill-side, to take note of the motions of -“the wandering stone-crackers,” as he called them, and his brain was in -a pother. - -The blacksmith had sharpened their pick more than once, which had put on -edge his curiosity, and had “contrived to pick their brains, while they -pecked the rocks,” as he jocosely remarked, and _he_ had smelt metal in -their movements. - -Over their evening ale, at the tavern, the probabilities and -possibilities of gold or silver being found in the mountain, were -discussed with various degrees of profundity, and the certainty that -something of the kind was there, was most sagely resolved on. Time, in -whose crucible all doubts are solved, soon confirmed their sagacity by a -“copper button” presented to the landlord with the compliments of -Uptosnuff, with hints, but not positive injunctions as to secrecy. He -knew his man. - -“What do you think of that?” asked Drawitwell, of his cronies the same -evening, with an air of authority, holding up the copper button. “What -_do_ you think of that, my lads?” - -“_Hellow!_” exclaimed the bewildered cobbler, “landlord, why—why is -_that goold_?” - -“Gold, you fool! No, it’s _not_ gold—but it’s a precious sight more -valuable—because there is a great deal more of it used.” - -“Why what on earth is it, then?” asked the blacksmith, in amazement. - -“It’s _Copper_! my lads! COPPER!!” - -“COPPER!!” - -“Yes, I reckon it is!—and the genuine metal, too! And the mountain is -as full of it as an egg is of meat! Only melt down one of the rocks up -there, and you’ll see how it will fly out!” - -To have stopped the spread of such information as this, would have -surpassed the ingenuity of our clerical friend, who was opposed to the -Magnetic Telegraph, as “a device of the devil.” There was a California -excitement in a village, with California itself in their own mountain. -_He_ would have been a lucky traveler, who could have had his horse shod -for a guinea, or a bridle-rein mended for double the amount. - -“You see, my lads!” says Drawitwell, haranguing the crowd, “they are -going to do the fair thing by us, they have bought the land, and are -getting their act of incorporation ready, and we are all to have shares -in it at a reasonable rate—and I reckon I’ll have a _few_, or money -must be scarce in Fleeceington. There’ll be high times at the “Hawk and -Buzzard”, _now_, I should say, when every man in this prosperous village -can be an owner, for a small sum, in one of the richest mines on the -face of the earth. You see it’s going to be most unconscionable high, -too—it’s now twenty-two cents a pound—for the government is -advertising for it in the newspapers—no doubt to make bullets with to -match the infernal poisonous Mexicans. Gad, we’ll give the rascals a -taste of their own physic, _now_, I reckon! And then don’t they make -water-pipes with it now, and sheetings. And don’t they cover houses with -it, and ships; and I guess the time is not far off when government will -have her mint on this spot—and what’s to hinder us, _then_ from -spending our own coppers, bran new, ha! ha! If any body here has got a -farm for sale, I’m his man!” - -As for buying farms, the thing was perfectly absurd now, and Drawitwell -should have known it; for who could tell that there was not a -copper-mine under every one of them. It was not to be supposed either -that the good people of Fleeceington could keep the knowledge of such -extraordinary wealth all to themselves, and our usually quiet city was -all agog, with the wondrous stories of the extent and richness of the -mines; and to confirm its truth, Grubemout and Uptosnuff were here with -the charter, and the script elegantly engraved, and any number of -specimens, and copper-buttons confirmatory. - -In a day or two a few shares were in the market at “a slight advance on -the original cost.” Capitalists had been up who thought they “knew a -thing or two”—and gudgeons began to nibble, the knowing ones among the -number. The market advanced. One, two, three, four hundred per cent. was -quickly achieved as competitors increased; and considering that the -first cost was perhaps a dollar an acre, for an unwooded, untillable, -rocky hillside, curved up and set down at a dollar per square foot as -“original cost,” the profit was tempting—the market active—ditto the -original holders. There was a fierce avidity for a stock which advanced -at such rapid strides, and the reckless became crazy, the cautious -reckless and visionary. “The Board”—knowing dogs—looked on for a while -doubtfully, but in amazement. The “Outsiders” indulged in ecstasies and -fanciful millions. Thousands were added up upon stock-books, as if they -were “trifles light as air”—_and they were_. Merchants cut the -shop—lawyers the red tape and sheep-skin—editors told the messenger -for copy to “go to the devil”—and all became “gentlemen on ’change.” -Healths were drunk “to the United Copper-Heads”—and champagne and -Havanas “suffered some.” Fun and puns flashed fast and furious—and all -this the while the great bubble rose up, expanding and beautifying as it -ascended. - -It was not to be expected that a single mountain should contain all this -good luck exclusively, and in various quarters envious copper-rocks -poked their noses out, quite seductively to anxious companies, who -formed upon the spot. One gigantic intellect proposed the formation of a -company to shovel the sand off of the whole State of New Jersey, so as -to get at the substratum, at once and emphatically. Copper became -substantially the _great_ business of life—the _only_ business of the -board—the _board_ being in fact rather a small affair while _copper_ -abounded. - -Sharp occupied _his_ time in buying up superfluous real estate, which -seemed to have been infected by copper, and showed a disposition to -_rise_—and he was afraid it might go up and never come down again. The -conveyancers assured him that he ought to take it—like a sportsman—on -the wing, right and left. He did, and clapped a heavy mortgage on it to -keep it steady. - -That disturbed the figures on Flat’s memorandum—for he hoped to have -bought and paid for it with his expected profit on copper, and to have -staggered somebody else’s property with a mortgage from the surplus. It -was provoking. - -Jones and Wilkins resolved to “take a shy at the copper anyway, while it -was going;” but the stock of all the companies seemed shy of them. They -“bid ten dollars through a broker”—it was twelve. “Bid twelve”—it was -fourteen. Wilkins had had enough of it. He believed it was “only a -bubble blown up to catch the eyes of fools. He was done with it.” But -Jones was down in the morning, as merry as a lark, and as early. He -“knew some of the outsiders, and thought he would catch some of them -before the morning was over.” He did—and went home to dinner, having -made “a fortunate hit.” - -“Five hundred shares,” said he, “at fifteen, and the last sale ‘after -board,’ nineteen and a half! Four dollars and fifty cents per share. -Five aught is _naught_; five fives are twenty-five, five fours are -twenty, and two are twenty-two. Twenty-two hundred and fifty -dollars—that will do for one day, _I_ should say. Wilkins would like me -to give _him_ half, as we were to have gone in together yesterday, but I -wonder what Wilkins ever did for me, that I should give _him_ eleven -hundred and twenty-five dollars! Not _quite_ so green!” - -The next morning Grubemout brought down some specimens, which “he -thought” would yield forty per cent. _if they were assayed_, and thought -that they ought to make an assessment of a dollar a share, so as to put -on more hands and drive out the ore. Jones said that “that was right -enough.” - -The assessment was called in, at which the stock hesitated for a day or -two—made a start and went on—but a second installment being urged, it -faltered a little, and then stopped. At the third it “_declined_ a -shade,” at which the “bears” gave a shake and a growl. - -But Grubemout had—in the nick of time—“just received a letter from the -mines of the most important nature, which it would not do to show in -‘the street,’ or the stock would be balooning it—Uptosnuff had _just -made a cross-cut_.” - -“The deuce he has!” exclaimed Jones, rather nervously. “What is _that_?” - -“A cross-cut, you see,” says Grubemout, “is nothing more than ‘a shaft’ -run at right angles past the old one we have been working. He struck -some glorious ‘deposites,’ and—” - -“Why I thought you always said there was _a vein_, Grubemout? These -deposites are confoundedly leaky and treacherous affairs.” - -“And so there _is_ a vein, my boy, and we are just getting into it; -deposites are always the first thing we look for in copper mining. As -long as we have them we get on swimmingly; but you are so confoundedly -skittish! I was just going to tell you, that in making the ‘cross-cut,’ -Uptosnuff has struck ‘_the master vein_!’ and found an old ‘_drift_’ in -the mountain, which you will see after a while, is important. In it he -found old hatchets, and hammers, and images in copper, supposed to have -been the rude efforts at mining and smelting by the Indians long -ago—say before the Dutch had taken Holland, or achieved the renowned -name of Knickerbockers, and had gone home copper-fastened.” - -Information so desirable as this would work its way out somehow, and -gentlemen would now bet you a trifle—say champagne and cigars—that a -dividend of twenty-five per cent. would be declared on the stock the -first year; or would _give_ you a hundred dollars for agreeing to pay -the annual dividend on a hundred shares. - -Jones is “satisfied _now_,” and forthwith buys five hundred shares more, -as do other Joneses, and Browns, and Greens. Outsiders became as plenty -as gooseberries, and as verdant; and it would seem, from the number of -shares reported _at_ the Board, and “_after_,” that certificates had -quadrupled, and never _could_ multiply fast enough to supply the demand. -Indeed, as one old gentleman was heard to end a prolonged whistle, by -exclaiming—“GAS!” the market became so inflated that the Joneses, -Browns, and Greens, declined the attempt of _cornering_ the stock, in -despair. - -“The company,” called for an additional installment at once. “Why, what -the deuce,” asks Jones, “does the company want with _more_ installments? -Haven’t they got copper enough!” - -“Copper _ore_, my dear fellow,” responded Grubemout. “Yes, _lots_ of it. -But Uptosnuff wasn’t brought up in a Cornish mine for nothing. The -furnaces at Baltimore and Boston want it for half-price, but as they are -nearly _out_, we intend to make them _smoke_, ha! ha! But we must go to -the expense of an “_adate_” in the meanwhile.” - -“Why, what’s the use of _that_—what good will that do?” asks Jones. -“What _is_ an _adate_, anyway?” - -Poor Jones had a good deal yet to learn about copper-mining, and felt -naturally alarmed at these ominous terms. The “cross-cut” was the -beginning of puzzlers. He had yet to see—I may as well say he -ultimately did see, “the drift,” to help along “the pumps,” as well as -the adate with installments, and to become familiar with a variety of -mining lore, which assists knowledge in its acquisition, by obligingly -allowing us to pay for it. But I believe he never _did_ understand “what -they wanted with so many work-shops—_he_ thought they were _miners_!” - -“An _adate_, Jones, is only a drain to relieve the mine when it is -overcharged with water.” - -“Oh! is that all!” - -But this calling in of installments seems to be a sort of patent -condenser in the stock market, and shows with how much force a given -quantity of air can be squeezed into a given compass. - -Grubemout was as active as a bee at sunrise, and offered his advice -gratuitously—but “confidentially”—to any number of anxious -_inquirers_—but some of _them_ having a copper-mine of their own, by -the attractive and _taking_ name of “_Penny_-wise Company,” and others -having taken a snap with the “Alligator Mountain Company,” and not -liking the bite they received, shook their heads at Fleeceington and -looked knowing—the “New Jersey” chaps were quite sprightly, for as -their _title_ covered the whole State, they had a fair chance of -_realizing_ something when the “Mammoth Shoveling Company” got to work, -and lifted the crust off. - -Grubemout assured them—“on his honor”—that “the Company did not intend -to sell an ounce of its ore to the furnaces. They intended to have ‘_a -crushing machine_’ of their own erected at once, and proceed in a style -that would soon settle the whole business.” - -Jones was “ready for any number of crushers or mashers, grinders or -pounders. Head up the creek—dam it! Put up the water-works and the -mill-wheel, and give it to the _blasted_ furnaces! Carry the war into -Africa!” said he. - -The installment to carry on the adate was paid, though it depressed the -stock, but Jones could not see how having paid the company five thousand -dollars in installments should depress _his_ stock in the market. “Hang -it!” said he, “the company is that much richer in property and -excavations, and don’t I belong to the company—haven’t I a thousand -shares? It’s only paying money out of one pocket, and putting into the -other. Wilkins may laugh, but he’s a fool! That’s a capital idea about -the furnace. You’re a boy, Uptosnuff—_you_ are?” - -The installment for _crushing_ purposes was soon called in also, and -paid, though the stock looked sickly, and trembled as if it had the -ague, or had passed through a crushing process on its own hook. It was -just composing itself when Uptosnuff discovered that it was of the -highest importance to the company to have a small engine and an iron -pump erected at the mines at once, _as the richest ore is always found -below water level_! - -Jones—the active, energetic Jones—“had no doubt of it at all. The -Cornish miners assured him, when he was up, that as soon as they got -below water level, they would come to something that couldn’t be trifled -with. If Wilkins wasn’t a fool he would go in soon, before it gets out.” - -Uptosnuff, too, had had a quantity of the late ore assayed, and -Professor Stuffemwell, Geologist to Her Majesty, thought it would _do_ -bravely. If ore that yielded fifty per cent. would not, he would like to -know how her majesty’s subjects got rich, after paying the miners, on -mines that yield but fifteen per cent. - -Copper buttons now replenished the pockets of dealers, and the stock -made several violent gasps and starts for a desirable existence. But it -was consumptive—evidently going into a rapid decline. The crushing -process and the iron pump having depressed its spirits, and exhausted -still further its vital energy. - -Grubemout thought that if the buttons were pressed into _bars_, and -shown upon Change it might be encouraging, and mitigate the violence of -the disease; but some wag of a broker suggested that it was “_a_ BAR -_sinister_;” which remark sinister ruffled the backs of the _bars_, -caused the bulls to toss their horns unpleasantly, and shook still -further the liveliness of the stock, which drooped visibly under the -imputation. - -Even _Jones_—the ardent, trustful Jones—got earnestly anxious about -the state of the patient, and “suggested a consultation.” - -_Brown_ was full of good intentions, but “pleaded debility of the -pocket, which, under heavy depletion, was rather low.” - -_Green_ was a little vivacious, and “suggested a new _cross-cut_.” - -_Grubemout_ was pleased with the idea, and hinted at “a new -installment.” - -_Uptosnuff_ had “missed the stage, and was unable to get down to the -meeting.” - -_Wilkins_, in answer to a pressing invitation to “_come in_,” was “busy -selling goods.” - -_Sharp_ would not attend—“he had never had any thing to do with the -rascally copper, and found his real estate bad enough just now.” - -_Flat_ “had enough of copper stock—it was not very heavy, to be sure, -having rather a tendency to dissolve into air, its original element, but -he was satisfied.” - -_The Stock_ grew feebler after consultation, as patients are apt to, in -critical cases, from want of remedy. - -_The Bulls_ looked surly, as if they had been disappointed in pasture. - -_The Bears_ were as frisky as it is possible to be on a frosty morning, -and were so much in their own element, that you looked involuntarily -around for floating icebergs—and copper in this temperature of the -atmosphere sunk into a torpor. - -_On Change_, in this changing world of ours, copper looked blue. - -_The Outsiders_ had rubbed out their pencil-marks on stock memorandums, -and dissipating the written evidence of thousands that had vanished into -air, they themselves vanished. It was needless to say any thing to -_them_ about copper, they “never had any thing to do with it, beyond a -hundred shares or so, which they sold out before the bubble looked like -bursting.” Stockdom was desolate, save that a few of the bears showed -their teeth, and grinned as furiously as if they had just arrived fresh -from the Polar regions, and had brought any quantity of wet blankets -with them. Yet they looked as if they would rather than not that any -dealer in copper should take hold of them. The bulls were more -plentiful—looked savage but knowing, but showed no disposition to dash -at imaginary enemies in scarlet, having rather a taste left for their -friends, the Browns and the Greens, who were urgently entreated to “come -_in again_, and help sustain the market.” - -The case was desperate, and desperate remedies were resolved on. It was -deemed advisable to “ask _the opinion_ of the directors!” - -The directors “_have_ no opinion of the stock! They never _had_,” of -their own. They trusted to Grubemout, to Uptosnuff, to the Cornish -miners. Their geological and mineralogical education, had been -shockingly neglected in their youth, and they have verified the fact, by -having on their hands, a thousand shares apiece at high prices, by -having assisted to sustain the market in the various stages of the -experiment. But “they _would_ like to know who were the ‘original’ -stockholders of the company who did them the honor to elect them.” - -Grubemout “thought it of the highest importance that they _should_ know, -and as the original book of minutes was up at the mines and as he was -going up by the next stage, would write and send them.” - -It would be, perhaps, as well to give his letter: - - _Fleeceington, Dec. 10, 18—._ - - GENTLEMEN,—I arrived safely at the mines last evening, after - rather a fatiguing journey by stage, and found, to my - unspeakable amazement, that Uptosnuff had exhausted the vein, - and that as no more deposites are to be found he had thought it - advisable to abandon the mine. The tools, viz., four pickaxes, - three shovels, and two wheelbarrows—rather dilapidated—the - property of the company, I have put under shelter, to preserve - them from the weather—subject to your order or disposal. The - iron pump I should have removed also, but being rather heavy in - the absence of the hands—who have gone back to their farms—I - found it impossible to take in. It cannot, however, suffer from - rust more than ten per cent., and as the original cost was but - seventy dollars, the loss to the company will be inconsiderable. - There is a trifle of two hundred dollars due, for boarding the - hands, to the host of the “Roaring Lion,” who will forward you - his account by this mail. As Uptosnuff and myself have suffered - a great deal from anxiety, and exposure in the mines of the - company, we deem it proper to seek a more genial clime. Any - little complimentary remuneration which you may see proper to - bestow on us, you will please enclose to Mr. Drawitwell, of the - Hawk and Buzzard, to whom we are indebted for various little - civilities, in the shape of breakfast, dinner and supper, for - the past six months, and which no doubt the generosity of your - complimentary donation will amply cover. - - Enclosed are “the original minutes.” Uptosnuff wishes to be - remembered _by_ you. I join in the same prayer. - - Yours, as ever, - CHRISTIAN GRUBEMOUT, _Pres’t._ - - * * * * * - -To the Directors, Stockholders, etc. - -P. S. Please ask Jones to think of us. Not that it is any of our -business, but would like to know whether he ever divided with -Wilkins—it would be civil, you know. Regards to the Bulls. Uptosnuff -says ditto to the Bears, for there is no knowing when one may want a -friend, and civility costs nothing. - - C. G. - - * * * * * - -MINUTES, FIRST MEETING.—At a large and enthusiastic meeting of the -joyous and delighted inhabitants of the charming and romantic village of -Fleeceington, held at “The Hawk and Buzzard Hotel,” to elect officers -for the newly discovered, freshly chartered, and highly valuable and -productive Copper Mine, just incorporated by an act of the Legislature, -under the name, style and title, to wit: - - * * * * * - - “_The Grand Open Sesame and United Catchem Copper Mining, - Crushing, Stamping, Pumping and Smelting Company_,” - - Christian Grubemout, Eliakim Uptosnuff, J. Drawitwell, T. - Crispin and John Smith, the original incorporators of the - Company, after regaling themselves, proceeded to the election of - officers, and knowing that in the goodly city of Philadelphia - there were a number of persons by the names of Jones, Brown and - Green, and not a few Sharps and Flats, they, in order to avoid - giving offence, placed in a hat the whole of the names, as - above, found in the _Directory_, (significant of the office they - were to hold,) and drew the following first three names, A. - Jones, B. Flat, C. Green, _directing_ them to supply vacancies, - and to fill additions to the number of five; adding in the - meanwhile the names of the first two corporators, as - _ex-officio_ directors, to conduct silently the operations of - the mines, and to enlighten the others as to the true plan of - working copper-mines profitably and efficiently. - - (Signed) C. GRUBEMOUT, _Pres’t._ - E. UPTOSNUFF, _Sec’ry._ - - * * * * * - -The cleverness and explicitness of the whole transaction showed that it -had _been done_ neatly; and the Directors with singular unanimity felt -themselves included in the operation. - -There can be no doubt that Grubemout and Uptosnuff are among the -“placers” in California. The one being undeniably the man who sold the -two barrels of brandy, by installments of a thimblefull at a time, for -$14,000—the other, with positive certainty, we aver to have been the -man who “confidentially” communicated the following _item_ to the -newspaper press, and he must have been there to have seen it: - - * * * * * - - “_The Biggest Lump Yet?_—The following is about the latest news - from the gold diggins that we have seen recorded in the - ‘papers:’ A runaway soldier is said to have discovered a lump or - a rock of gold that weighed 889 pounds and 11½ ounces; he was - afraid to leave it, and mounted guard upon it, and at the latest - dates he had sat there 17 days; had offered $27,000 for a plate - of pork and beans, but had been indignantly refused, and laughed - at for the niggardliness of his offer, by parties going further - on, where this article was said to be _more abundant_!” - - * * * * * - -Jones is among the lame ducks, and pretty roughly plucked at that. But -he still avers that if the furnaces had only paid a good price for the -ore at the outset, or Wilkins had only helped him to sustain the market -when he asked him, he should have been the master of a pretty snug -little fortune. If he only had it _now_, he would charter a steamer, and -take his own freight and passengers for the gold mines. - -The Hawk and Buzzard appears to have been “_pidgeoned_,” for the last -time I passed that way the house was shut up. The business having amused -itself by stepping over to the Roaring Lion, while the Hawk and Buzzard -had flown to the city, “to watch the market.” - -Crispin “would only like to have one of those fellows tied for a while, -until he had expressed his opinion on him with a stirrup.” - -Smith appears to be solicitous to “make them intimately acquainted with -the red-hot end of a poker—he’d _smelt_ ’em, _dam_ ’em, and _crush_ ’em -too!” - -The “Dam,” the “Drift,” the “Cross-Cut,” the “Iron Pump” and the -“Adate,” you can see as you go wood-cock shooting next August—but the -“Steam-Engine” and the “Mill-Wheel” never arrived, owing to some -informality in the order given to the mechanics. - -“THE CRUSHER,” it is supposed, is in California with its friends. - - G.R.G. - - * * * * * - - - - - ADIEU, MY NATIVE LAND. - - - WORDS BY D. W. BELISLE. - - ARRANGED FOR THE PIANO, BY JAMES PIPER. - -[Illustration] - - My native land adieu; - Ye blooming, sunlit hills, - Ye mountains tipped with blue, - And lovely, dancing rills, - My - -[Illustration] - - heart is sad to part with scenes like you, - Ye much loved haunts of youth, adieu, adieu. - - - SECOND VERSE. - - Sweet Memory, how my soul - Beats at thy magic touch! - ’Tis strange that thy control - Can make us bear so much; - For, while my thoughts in sadness turn to you, - My heart in silence breathes a fond adieu! - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Grammar has been -maintained as in the original. Punctuation has been corrected without -note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For -illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to -condition of the originals available for preparation of the ebook. - -Page 217, in the “Scientfic Halls,” ==> in the “Scientific Halls,” -Page 219, and platted his long ==> and plaited his long -Page 219, nicely platted queues ==> nicely plaited queues -Page 222, courtiers whom Lí ==> courtiers with whom Lí -Page 222, assidiously _rubbing his_ ==> assiduously _rubbing his_ -Page 224, I hav n’t it ==> I haven’t it -Page 225, has no othe ==> has no other -Page 227, to entercept the ==> to intercept the -Page 227, below. Unforfortunately, the ==> below. Unfortunately, the -Page 236, many rejuvinated forests, ==> many rejuvenated forests, -Page 238, and wild-geraneum flowers ==> and wild-geranium flowers -Page 239, fair daugher of the ==> fair daughter of the -Page 241, be poweful to cheer ==> be powerful to cheer -Page 244, fly-leaves was writen ==> fly-leaves was written -Page 251, was therefor, and ==> was therefore, and -Page 254, free and unbiassed ==> free and unbiased -Page 256, beloved and rewared ==> beloved and rewarded -Page 269, T’is hence that ==> ’Tis hence that -Page 275, Havn’t they got ==> Haven’t they got -Page 276, number off five; ==> number of five; -Page 276, The Bigest Lump ==> The Biggest Lump - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, -April 1849, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, APRIL 1849 *** - -***** This file should be named 53957-0.txt or 53957-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/5/53957/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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} - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - .literal-container { text-align:center; margin:0 0; } - .literal-container { text-align:center; margin:1em auto; } - .literal { display:inline-block; text-align:left; } - p.toc { text-align:left; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - p.toch { text-align:center; text-indent: 0; font-size:1.2em; margin:1em auto; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-size: 1.3em; font-weight:bold;} - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April -1849, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April 1849 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - J. R. Patterson - J. B. Taylor - -Release Date: January 13, 2017 [EBook #53957] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, APRIL 1849 *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XXXIV.</span> April, 1849. No. 4.</p> - -<div class='literal-container'> -<p class='toch'>Table of Contents</p> -<div class='literal'> -<p class='toc'><a href='#poet'>The Poet Lí</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_1'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_2'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#naval'>The Naval Officer</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_3'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#vic'>Victory and Defeat</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#mother'>To Mother</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#ring'>On a Diamond Ring</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#recluse'>The Recluse. No. I.</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_4'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_5'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_6'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#rome'>Rome</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#miss'>The Missionary, Sunlight</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#ther'>Thermopylæ</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#lost'>Lost Treasures</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#bro'>The Brother’s Temptation</a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_7'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_8'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_9'></a></p> -<p class='toc' style='margin-left: 2em'><a href='#h_10'></a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#relic'>The Unsepulchred Relics</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#rem'>Reminiscences of a Reader</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#gipsy'>The Gipsy Queen</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#lament'>The Brother’s Lament</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#mach'>Sonnet to Machiavelli</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#dar'>The Darsies</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#mask'>The Unmasked</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#morm'>Mormon Temple, Nauvoo</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#rose'>Rose Winters</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#zop'>The Zopilotes</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#men'>History of the Costume of Men</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#earth'>The Beautiful of Earth</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#bird'>Wild-Birds of America</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#jenny'>Jenny Lind</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#storm'>Storm-Lines</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#books'>Review of New Books</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#table'>Editor’s Table</a></p> -<p class='toc'><a href='#adieu'>Adieu, My Native Land</a></p> -</div> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'><a href='#notes'>Transcriber’s Notes</a> can be found at the end of this eBook.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i001f.jpg'><img src='images/i001.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:425px;height:auto;'/></a> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:0em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Anaïs Toudouze</span></p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'><span style='font-size:larger'><span class='bold'>LE FOLLET</span></span></p> -<p class='line'>Boulevart S<sup>t</sup>. Martin, 61.</p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Robes de M<sup>me.</sup></span> Bara Bréjard, <span class='it'>r. Laffitte, 5—Coiffures de</span> Hamelin, <span class='it'>pass du Saumon, 21</span>.</p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Fleurs de</span> Chagon ainé, <span class='it'>r. Richelieu, 81—Dentelles de</span> Violard, <span class='it'>r. Choiseul 2<sup>bis</sup></span></p> -<p class='line'>8, Argyll Place, Londres.</p> -<p class='line'>Graham’s Magazine</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i002.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:650px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>D. Bydgoszcz, pinx. A.L. Dick</span><br/> <br/><span class='bold'>THE BRIDGE & CHURCH <span style='font-size:smaller'>OF</span> S<sup>T</sup>. ISAAC.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol.</span> XXXIV. PHILADELPHIA, April, 1849. <span class='sc'>No.</span> 4.</p> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='217' id='Page_217'></span><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='poet'></a>THE POET LI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A FRAGMENT FROM THE CHINESE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. CAROLINE. H. BUTLER, AUTHOR OF “RECOLLECTIONS OF CHINA,” “MAID OF CHE-KI-ANG,” ETC.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_1'>PART I.</h2> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>Do not draw upon you a person’s enmity, for enmity is -never appeased—injury returns upon him who injures—and -sharp words recoil against him who says them.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Chinese Proverb.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>On the green and flowery banks of the beautiful -Lake Tai-hoo, whose surface bears a thousand isles, -resting like emeralds amid translucent pearl, dwelt -Whanki the mother of Lí. <span class='it'>The mother of Lí!</span> Ah -happy distinction—ah envied title! For where, far -or near, was the name could rank with Lí on the -scroll of learning—receiving even in childhood the -title of the “Exiled Immortal,” from his skill in -classic and historical lore!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover, he was of a most beautiful countenance, -while the antelope that fed among the hills -was not more swift of foot. Who like Lí could -draw such music from the seven silken strings of the -Kin! or when with graceful touch his fingers swept -the lute, adding thereto the well-skilled melody of his -voice, youths and maidens opened their ears to listen, -for wonderful was the ravishing harmony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet although the gods of learning smiled upon this -youthful disciple of Confucius, poverty came also -with her iron hand, and although she could not crush -the active mind of Lí, with a strong grip, she held him -back from testing his skill with the ambitious <span class='it'>literati</span>, -both old and young, who annually flocked to the -capital to present their themes before the examiners. -For even in those days as the present, money was -required to purchase the smiles of these severe -judges. They must read with <span class='it'>golden</span> spectacles—or -wo to the unhappy youth who, buoyant with hope -and—<span class='it'>empty pockets</span>, comes before them! With -what contempt is his essay cast aside, not worth the -reading!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sorely vexed, therefore, was poor Lí—and what -wonder—to know that he might safely cope with any -candidate in the “<a id='halls'></a>Scientific Halls,” yet dare not for -the lack of <span class='it'>sycee</span> (silver) enter their gates, lest disgrace -might fall upon him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet Lí was of a merry heart—and, as all the world -knows, there is no better panacea for the ills of fortune -than the spirit of cheerfulness. Thus, although -poverty barred the way to promotion, it could not -materially affect his happiness—no more than the -passing wind which for a moment ruffled the surface -of the lake, yet had no power to move its depths.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now it happened that one day taking his nets Lí -went down to the lake, and as he cast them within -the waters, not knowing any one was near, he broke -forth into a merry song, which sent its glad burthen -far off to the lips of mocking Echo, like Ariel, seeming -to “ride on the curled clouds.” Now it also -chanced, that within a grove of the graceful bamboo, -which skirted the path down which Lí had passed on -his way, walked the great Mandarin Hok-wan.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Hi!</span> by the head of Confucius the fellow sings -well!” he exclaimed, as the song met his ear, (for, -as we have said, Lí had a voice of rare melody,) and -forthwith issuing from his concealment, Hok-wan -seated himself upon the bank and entered into conversation -with the young fisherman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If the mere melody of the voice had so charmed -the mandarin, how much more was he captivated by -the wit and learning of the youth, who, thus poorly -appareled, and humbly employed, seemed to share -wisdom with the gods! Hok-wan stroked his eye-brows -in astonishment, and then bidding Lí leave his -nets, he bore him off as a rare prize to his own house, -where he that day feasted a numerous company.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>First conducting Lí to an inner apartment, he presented -him with a magnificent robe richly embroidered, -together with every article necessary to complete -the toilet of a person of distinction, and when -thus appareled, introduced him into the presence of -<span class='pageno' title='218' id='Page_218'></span> -his guests. And truly Lí walked in among them -with all the stateliness and hauteur of a man who -feels that he is conferring an honor, instead of being -honored, as no doubt Lí should have considered himself, -in such an august assemblage of grave mandarins. -With what an air he seated himself at the -sumptuously loaded table! where, according to Chinese -custom of the higher classes, the various dishes -of meats, soups, fish, preserves, etc., were all nearly -hidden by large bouquets of beautiful flowers, and -pyramids of green leaves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now no sooner had Hok-wan delivered with -all customary formality the speech of welcome, and -drained to the health of his guests the tiny goblet of -crystal, embossed with gold, than rising to his feet, -and joining his hands before his breast, in token of -respect to his host, Lí called a servant, and bidding -him take a part from all the good things spread before -him, said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Carry these to the dwelling of Whanki, the mother -of Lí. Say to her that as the sands on the lake -shore, countless are the blessings of the gods, who -have this day smiled upon her son. Bid her eat—for -although from hunger he should gnaw his flesh, -and from thirst drink his blood, yet not one morsel of -this banquet shall pass the lips of Lí unless his aged -mother be also sustained by the same delicacies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At hearing which, all the mandarins, and Hok-wan -himself, loudly expressed their admiration. Such is -the esteem which the Chinese entertain for filial -piety.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This duty discharged, Lí attacked the dainties before -him like a hungry soldier, yet seasoning all he -said and did with so much wit and humor, that the -guests laid down their chop-sticks and listened with -wonder. With the wine, Li grew still more merry—his -wit cut like hail-stones wheresoe’er it lighted, -and at his jovial songs the grave dignitaries forgetting -their rank, (somewhat washed away by copious -draughts of <span class='it'>sam-shu</span>,<a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a>) snapped their fingers, wagged -their shorn heads, and even rising from the table -embraced him familiarly. At length, when after an -interval of a few hours their hilarity was somewhat -abated, during which the guests walked in the beautiful -gardens, or reclining upon luxuriant cushions, -regaled themselves with their pipes, or in masticating -their favorite betel-nut, Lí made bare his bosom before -them, and to their astonishment they found it -was only a needy scholar whose praises they had -been shouting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>A needy scholar!</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>How firmly they clutched their fobs, lest a <span class='it'>candareen</span><a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a> -might jump into the pocket of the needy scholar. -But of advice they were as profuse as grass-hoppers -in August.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go to the capital—go to Kiang-fu,” (Nankin the -ancient capital of the empire,) “thou wilt perplex -the learned—thou wilt bewilder the ignorant!” said -one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Hi!</span> this fellow Lí will yet stand with honor before -the emperor,” cried another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Appear boldly in the ‘Scientific Halls’ before -the Examiners,” said a third, “and never fear but -thy name shall be cried at midnight from the highest -tower in the city,<a id='r3'/><a href='#f3' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[3]</span></sup></a> as the successful Lí, with whom -no other candidate can compete!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When the wind blows over the fields does not -the grass bend before it!” said Hok-wan. “When -the great Ho speaks will not inferiors obey! the -learned academician Ho is my brother—to him then -you shall go—one word from him, and even the -judges themselves shall cry your name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ivory does not come from a rat’s mouth, or gold -from brass clippings,” thought Lí, as he listened to -these remarks—“a few candareens now would be -better for me than all this fine talk—truly I must be -a fool not to know all this stuff before. Yet by the -sacred manes of my ancestors, I <span class='it'>will</span> go to the capital, -and that, too, ere another sun ripens the rice-fields—furnished -with a letter to the illustrious Ho, I -may dare admittance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Giddy with wine, and with the excitement of high -hopes for the future, at a late hour Lí was borne in a -sumptuous palankeen to the humble dwelling of -Whanki.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The poor old soul at first knew not the gay gallant -who stood before her, so much had the gift-robes of -the mandarin changed his appearance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Heigh-yah!</span> but, Lí, thou art as fine as a magpie,” -quoth she, raising her head from the pan of -charcoal, over which she seemed to be simmering -something in a small dish—“<span class='it'>Heigh</span>—and now I look -at you again, I see you have drank of that cursed -<span class='it'>sam-shu</span>—forever abhorred be the name of I-tih!<a id='r4'/><a href='#f4' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[4]</span></sup></a> -with all thy wit dost thou not know the wise saying -of Mencius—‘<span class='it'>Like a crane among hens is a man -of parts among fools</span>.’ (It may be inferred, I -think, that the good old Whanki was something of a -scold.) And while thou hast been guzzling, see what -I have prepared for thee—what had <span class='it'>I</span> to do with -birds-nest soup, and with shark’s fins, and with -pigeon’s eggs from the table of Hok-wan! My poor -Lí will be too modest to eat with the great company, -I said to myself, and I will not eat them, but warm -them up to comfort him when he comes back—look, -here they are,” (lifting the dish from the fire) “and -yet thou comest home like a well-fed, stupid swine!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now tu-h, mother,” answered Lí, “if thy son -has been drinking with fools, they wore fine feathers—and -now embrace me, for I am going to the -capital.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lí, thou art drunk—go to bed—the capital indeed! -Ah cursed, cursed I-tih!” exclaimed the old -woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But when at length Lí convinced her that he was -neither drunk nor crazy, but in reality about to start -for Nankin, as a candidate for honors in the Scientific -Halls, and with a letter to the great Ho in his pouch, -Whanki knocked her head reverently before the -shrine of the household gods in token of gratitude.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The remainder of the night was passed in preparations -<span class='pageno' title='219' id='Page_219'></span> -for the journey, and just as the golden ripples -of the lake danced in the rays of the rising sun, Lí -tenderly embraced his aged parent, and set forth on -foot for Nankin, more than a hundred miles distant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, the blessed bug,” quoth the old woman, -gazing after him so long as she could catch a glimpse -of his large bamboo hat, “he will not want for rice -any day—no <span class='it'>sycee</span> has he in his pockets, but such a -tongue in his head, as will bring him food and -honors.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whanki was right. In every hamlet he passed -through—in every cottage by the wayside, Lí found -a shelter and a welcome—the good people considering -themselves amply repaid for their hospitality if -the young stranger would but touch the strings of -the <span class='it'>pipa</span>, or recite to them odes from the Shoo-king.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In this manner he reached the capital, and crossing -the marble bridge over the great canal, upon the -eastern side, entered the city at the Gate of Extensive -Peace. Going into the first barber’s shop which -offered, Lí carefully plucked <span class='it'>out</span> his beard, (hear this, -ye exquisites of modern days!) shaved his head -anew to the crown, and <a id='plait'></a>plaited his long black hair -with red ribbons. Then entering an adjoining tavern, -he exchanged his dusty, travel-worn garments for -the rich dress presented him by Hok-wan, which he -had preserved with great care for the occasion, and -holding up his fan, to shield his eyes from the sun, -stepped forth into the busy streets, to look for the -dwelling of the illustrious Ho.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And next, within the Hall of Ceremony, in the elegant -mansion of Ho, behold Lí in the presence of the -great man himself—for with the same audacity which -marked his behavior at the dinner of Hok-wan, had -Lí given the door-keeper a vermilion card, leading -Ho to expect a visiter of rank. Advancing three -steps to meet him, Ho bows low to his stranger guest—then -with graceful ease Lí also advances three -step, and bows still lower—Ho again gravely steps -forward and makes another salutation—upon which -Lí again does the same—with a still lower bending -of the body, Ho once more advances—whereupon -Lí, nearly touching the marble pavements with his -forehead, steps forward yet another three steps! By -this time their united and solemn paces had brought -them near the couch upon which visiters are expected -to repose themselves. And here again the -same formalities were gone through with, as to who -should first be seated thereon. But <span class='it'>being</span> seated, Lí -at once burst forth with such a flow of wit and fancy, -that Ho was completely captivated ere he knew the -name or business of the daring youth!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now this was a capital stroke of Lí. For the -academician cared not so much for any dignitary -under the Emperor Supreme, as he did for a man of -learning, or even for one who could tickle the moments -as they flew with witty jests, provoking laughter. -Ho saw at once that Lí not only possessed this -recommendation, but that his knowledge could also -ring on as many topics as there were bells to the -Porcelain Tower. When, therefore, he had perused -the letter of Hok-wan, which, after securing his -ground, Lí put into his hand, and after having listened -to the history which the youth gave of his hard struggles, -of his poverty, and earnest desire to come before -the judges on the day of examination, than Ho, -embracing him, bade him be of good cheer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, by the sacred Budha!” he exclaimed, -“learning like thine shall win its crown without the -aid of propitiatory gifts, save to the gods themselves. -Know, O Lí, that Yang and Kau, who enjoy the -smiles of the great emperor, are this year the examiners. -To them shalt thou go, with no favor but my -name—humble as it is, it shall cause thine to be enrolled -among the <span class='it'>literati</span> of the Imperial Academy!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No doubt Ho manifested great vanity in this, in so -much as hinting that his “<span class='it'>humble</span>” name could -balance with gold in the scales of avarice! Nevertheless -Lí was delighted, and immediately set about -piling up such a cloud castle as spread over his -whole heaven of glory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now the day of examination approached, and -confident of success, Lí boldly presented himself for -admission.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Offering the memorial of Ho, which was to insure -him, as he supposed, the favor of the judges, he was -much surprised to see those great men, Yang and -Kau, after turning over the missive with elevated -noses, expressive of their contempt, cast it from them -with scorn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Heigh!</span> the academician Ho thinks to cheat us -with bubbles! He sends us a scrawl devoid of meaning, -to bespeak our favor for an upstart without degree -or title! Yes—<span class='it'>we will remember the name of -Lí!</span>” Saying which, they cast looks of bitter disdain -upon the needy scholar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then commenced the tedious formula of the examination. -The candidates, hundreds in number, -were all obliged to undergo the strict search of the -officers in attendance. Their robes, pockets, shoes, -and even their nicely <a id='plait2'></a>plaited queues were examined, -to see they had not secreted some essay or composition -of some kind, which they might substitute for -one written on the spot without preparation, when -the examiners should command them. This done, -they were all seated on long benches with their paper -and pencils ready for the trial—the doors and windows -in the meanwhile being closely barred and -guarded, that no one from without should have the -power of smuggling any written paper into the hands -of the students.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At a signal-gun the theme for composition was -given out, and, like the velvet feet of butterflies, the -pencils of the rival candidates glided smoothly and -fleetly over the tinted paper. With perfect composure -and ease, Lí wrote off his essay in the most -beautiful characters, without a single erasure or -omission—handling the subject with great skill and -judgment, and gave it into the hands of Yang.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Heigh!</span>” said Yang, without giving himself -even the trouble to glance over it, but drawing his -pencil derisively over the fair and beautiful characters, -“I remember the name of Lí! What stuff is -here—why the fellow is only fit to grind my ink!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To grind your ink!” quoth Kau, “say rather he -is only fit to lace my buskins!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='220' id='Page_220'></span> -And laughing loudly at their own wit, the great -judges Yang and Kau turned their backs upon the -unfortunate Lí.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Overwhelmed with mortification and rage, he -rushed to the lower end of the hall, and there was -obliged to remain until evening, as not until then -could the doors be thrown open to give egress to any -one. Here he had the vexation of listening to the -jibes and sneers of those around him, and of seeing -others promoted to honors, who were as far inferior -to him as owls to eagles! What a bitter day for -poor Lí! and when at length dismissed with renewed -contumely from the Scientific Halls, he rushed into -the presence of Ho, swearing loudly that he would -one day ride over the necks of the proud Yang and -Kau, “and by the head of Confucius when I do—<span class='it'>Yang -shall grind my ink, and Kau lace up my -buskins!</span>” he cried with bitterness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ho was terribly indignant at the treatment of his -<span class='it'>protégé</span>, as well as incensed for the insult he imagined -his own dignity had received. But, although -he was himself high in favor with the emperor, -Yang and Kau stood still higher, therefore he dissembled -his anger, lest his head might pay the forfeit, -should those two powerful courtiers incense the emperor -against him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he found Lí preparing to return home, he -embraced him kindly, and bade him tarry yet another -year in the capital.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the end thou wilt surely succeed, O Lí. The -next year the examiners will not be the same, and -thou may’st then be certain of success,” said Ho. -“Remain with me until the time comes round—thy -days and nights shall roll off bright and rosy as morning -clouds—wine, wit, and music, yes, and the -smiles of women, shall make thee forget the insults -thou hast received.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Lí remembered his aged mother, sitting solitary -in her humble home by the side of the lake, and -his resolution strengthened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Know, O Ho, that an old mother waits for Lí -afar off. Summer and harvest will come, but Whanki -has no one to sow her rice, and desolation will sit in -her dwelling. The fish sport and gambol amid the -waters of the lake—Whanki has no strength to draw -them forth, therefore hunger and death will await -her! What profit, O wise Ho, should I gain if my -aged parent suffered! Would not the gods curse the -race of Lí!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Noble youth, take this purse—it is heavy,” exclaimed -Ho—“hasten to relieve the necessities of -thy mother—a happy mother in so dutiful a son—then -return without delay and await the examination. -I promise thee, thou shalt not this time lack a present -for the greedy judges—though, by Budha, I -would like to give it them at the dagger’s point!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Accordingly Lí bade farewell to his generous -friend, promising to return as speedily as possible.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_1'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div id='f1'><a href='#r1'>[1]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>A deleterious liquor distilled from rice.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_2'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div id='f2'><a href='#r2'>[2]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>A Chinese coin.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_3'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div id='f3'><a href='#r3'>[3]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>The custom of announcing the names of the successful -candidates at the examination.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_4'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div id='f4'><a href='#r4'>[4]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>The god of intoxicating liquors.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_2'>PART II.</h2> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>A man who has a tongue may go to Rome.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='it'>Chin. Prov’b.</span></p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Within the “Tranquil Palace of Heaven,” Hwant-sung -sat upon the Dragon’s Throne, with all his -court prostrate before him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was evidently “something rotten in the -state of Denmark,” for the clouds which veiled the -august features of the Celestial Monarch were black -as night—thunder might soon be expected, and low -in the dust his humble courtiers awaited the outpouring -of his terrible wrath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before his footstool knelt the Premier Yang, bearing -in his hand an official document inscribed with -curious hieroglyphics.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By my ancestors,” exclaimed the emperor, with -a wrathful look from one to the other of his trembling -courtiers, “a wise court is sustained by the -bounty of Hwant-sung! say rather a pack of idiots, -asses, dolts, fatted dogs! What! shall we become a -jibe in the mouths of foreign nations! Shall barbarian -kings mock the court of Nankin! <span class='it'>Hi!</span> Is -there not one then of my learned counsellors—not -one of my renowned warriors can decipher me this -scroll! Tremble, then, ye hounds! Yang, I command -thee to make known to us the purport of the -missive which the foreign ambassadors have brought -to our court.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this order well might Yang turn pale—for there -was no more meaning to him in the characters on -which his eyes were fixed, than in the slimy trail -which the green lizard draws upon the sand. Over -and over he turned it—now on this side, now on that—watched -narrowly and jealously meanwhile by all -around—for when was one high in favor with princes -also the favorite with the mass! At length, nine -times reverently knocking his head before Hwant-sung, -Yang said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let not the displeasure of Earth’s Glory, before -whose frown the whole world stands affrighted, annihilate -his slave that the gods have not granted him -power to do the will of his majesty in this thing. -He cannot read.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then did Hwant-sung call up one after another of -those whose scholastic lore was famed throughout -the empire. In vain. Not one could understand the -mysterious scroll. At which, becoming exceeding -wroth, Hwant-sung swore that unless within three -days his ministers could make known to him the signification -of the embassy, their <span class='it'>offices</span> and <span class='it'>salaries</span> -should all be taken from them—and if in six days -they were still in ignorance, their <span class='it'>death</span> should release -the empire from so many stupid owls!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then did the academician Ho humbly present himself -at the foot of the throne.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will the emperor deign to open the ears of graciousness -while the humblest of his slaves speaks? -Know then, O mighty sovereign, there arrived last -night at my house a man in whom all knowledge -seems to centre. His mind, keen as the lightning, -penetrates the most hidden mysteries—there is no -science, no art, which he hath not already mastered. -Command then that he appear before thee to make -plain that which doth perplex thy majesty’s servants.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hwant-sung rejoiced greatly at this information, -and bade Ho bring the learned scholar at once into -his presence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='221' id='Page_221'></span> -But when Ho, eager with joy, related to Lí the -good fortune he had secured him, that audacious -youth positively refused compliance with the commands -of the emperor! offering as an excuse, that as -he was but a poor scholar, without title or degree, he -dared not presume to appear before so much majesty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With this answer then the unhappy Ho returned to -the palace, not doubting but the rage of Hwant-sung -would vent itself not only upon Lí, but also upon -himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kneeling before the monarch, Ho exclaimed reverently—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will your majesty once more graciously listen. -At the last examination, this man of whom I have -spoken was turned from the Scientific Halls in disgrace—his -essay rejected by the Premier Yang and -the General Kau. Will it then please thee to bestow -some favor upon Lí, that he may with more propriety -come into this august presence?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It shall be done,” exclaimed the emperor. “We -confer upon Lí the title of Doctor of the first degree, -together with the purple robe and yellow girdle. Go -bring him before us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With this mark of royal patronage, Ho retraced -his steps with all the alacrity of a lover, and made -known to Lí the gracious favors of the emperor, supposing, -doubtless, that the student would rejoice as -one long blind now suddenly restored to light, or as -a famished man at a feast. But lo! coolly putting -on the robes of office, as if he had but just cast them -aside, with the air of a prince, Lí signified to the -great academician Ho his readiness now to obey the -mandate of the emperor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Entering the hall of audience with all the grace and -ease of a man bred in courts, Lí advanced to the -throne, and after paying the customary homage, rose -to his feet and looked proudly around upon the -assembly of grave men and gallant courtiers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The knees of the Premier Yang smote each other, -as he recognized the youth he had treated with so -much contumely now suddenly brought into notice—and -well did Kau now <span class='it'>remember the name of Lí</span>—and -it seemed as if hot pins tore his flesh, into such -agitation did that name now throw him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hwant-sung received the new doctor with condescension, -and placed in his hand the document which -he was required to make plain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Lí, casting a meaning glance upon Yang and -Kau, said:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can an indifferent scholar like myself presume -to know more than these learned men! Know, O -mighty emperor, thy servant was deemed unworthy -of favor by thy commissioners Yang and Kau—surely, -then, they must be more wise than Lí.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Charmed with the boldness of the youth, the emperor -graciously smiled upon him, and motioned the -two mortified examiners to withdraw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then standing erect, his head thrown back, yet in -an attitude of careless ease, Lí opened the important -missive, and without even glancing his eye over it -to understand more fully its nature, read it aloud -from beginning to end, in a clear, melodious voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It proved to be a demand from the king of Po-Hai, -couched in the most insulting language, requiring -the emperor to restore a part of Corea, consisting of -no less than a hundred and eighty towns, and also -demanding tribute from the time of its “<span class='it'>usurpation</span>” -(as the memorial expressed it) by the Emperor of the -Tang Dynasty. Thus, but for the skill of Lí, the -empire would have been plunged in irretrievable -disgrace through the ignorance of its ministers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The countenance of Hwant-sung grew black as -midnight as he listened to this insulting claim, and -but for the bold remonstrance of Lí, he would have -ordered the bearers of the embassy to instant death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May it please your majesty to summon the boorish -ambassadors before us,” cried Lí boldly, “I will -myself confer with them, and teach them how to respect -the mighty Emperor Hwant-sung.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Immediately, therefore, the ambassadors were -brought before Lí, who conversed with them in their -own language with the same haughty bearing as if -he himself were emperor, interpreting as he did so -to the indignant Hwant-sung. At length Lí dismissed -them, saying:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-morrow his sovereign majesty, to whom -your prince is but an earth-worm, will indite an -answer to your insulting embassy. Retire—and -tremble as ye walk! Thank the gods that the gracious -emperor deigns ye to live.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The audience chamber rang with acclamation, as -the ambassadors obsequiously withdrew in compliance -to the orders of Lí, and all the courtiers pressed -forward to compliment the young doctor—while the -emperor, embracing him, conferred upon him at -once the rank of academician, and ordered apartments -to be prepared for him in the palace of the -Golden Bell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With continued graciousness, he also directed a -sumptuous banquet to be got in readiness, and at -which all the learned men and wits of the court were -expected to appear. Wine was poured for the guests -by beautiful young girls of the “<span class='it'>golden lilies</span>”<a id='r5'/><a href='#f5' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[5]</span></sup></a>—ravishing -music swept around them, while at intervals -of the feast, the emperor sent from his own -apartments a choice theatrical corps for their entertainment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now did it seem that all the trials of Lí were over, -his poverty but a dream long past, and that now -upon the pinnacle to which his ambition had pointed -from early youth, he stood ready to hurl back in the -teeth of his enemies the disgrace which, only a few -months before, they had heaped upon the name of Lí.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The feast wore on even into the night—the wine -circulated freely, and in the same breath the courtiers -exalted the name of the emperor and of the young -academician. What wonder that under the attendance -of such charming cup-bearers Lí should have -drank more freely than was consistent with his new -dignity! How from such hands could he resist the -tempting goblet!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The result was, that when the next morning the -emperor repaired to the Hall of Audience to treat -with the embassy from Po-Hai, the academician Lí -was not in attendance—nay, did not make his appearance -<span class='pageno' title='222' id='Page_222'></span> -until after being twice summoned by royal -mandate!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The courtiers <a id='with'></a>with whom Lí had feasted the night previous, -shook their heads and looked significant. The -Premier Yang and the General Kau resumed their -usual boldness of demeanor, for no doubt this upstart, -this vagabond Lí, would find the anger of their -Celestial Monarch more than his head was worth—decapitation -would certainly follow such contempt -of royalty!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To be <span class='it'>twice</span> summoned—what audacity!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At length Li walked carelessly into the hall—his -dress somewhat disordered, and his feet thrust negligently -into slippers. But for those who were hoping -his ruin, what rage to see the emperor not only extend -his own royal hand in signification that he -would raise him from the ground, but also condescend -to inquire after his health!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think, learned doctor, the wine was to thy -fancy, yet methinks the fumes are still troubling -thee! Ere we proceed to our public duties I would -have thy wits clearer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Saying which, Hwant-sung ordered a plate of hot-spiced -fish-broth to be brought from the royal kitchens, -that its effects might dissipate the evils of last night’s -debauch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And when with unprecedented condescension their -sovereign even took the chop-sticks, and himself -cooled it for the palate of Lí, amazement almost -turned them to marble.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When his majesty deemed the senses of his new -favorite sufficiently restored, the ambassadors were -summoned into the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Upon the top of the platform, near the foot of the -“Dragon’s Throne,” was placed, by the order of -Hwant-sung, a cushion or divan of the Imperial -Yellow, embroidered with gold and silver, and upon -a tablet formed of mother-of-pearl, and richly set in -a band of emeralds, was a cake of perfumed ink—a -sheet of flowery paper—a hair-pencil set in a gold -tube, together with a small <span class='it'>jade</span> stone, with which -to rub the ink.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Waving his hand condescendingly to Lí, the emperor -spoke: “Ascend the platform, learned doctor, -and repose thyself upon the cushions at my feet, -while I indite to thee our answer to these slaves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May it please your majesty,” replied Lí, “my -feet are not in proper dress to approach so near the -‘Glory of the Earth.’ Will it please thee to command -new buskins to be brought thy servant, that he -may with decency ascend the platform.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This bold request was no sooner proffered than it -was granted. And then, with a significant glance to -the spot where stood Yang and Kau, pale with rage -and envy, the audacious Lí again addressed the -emperor:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The humblest of thy slaves would not be officious—but -he has one more request to lay at the feet of -his gracious sovereign. At the examination this -year, thy servant was repulsed by Yang, and turned -from the Scientific Halls in disgrace by Kau! Will -it therefore please thee to command the Premier Yang -to <span class='it'>grind my ink</span>, and the General Kau to <span class='it'>lace my -buskins</span>!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Never, perhaps, was an audience-chamber so insulted! -Even the awe which, in the presence of the -Celestial Monarch, rendered the courtiers less men -than jackals, failed in this case to suppress a murmur -of indignation which passed from one end of the hall -to the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Hwant-sung, well pleased to punish the injustice -of his commissioners, immediately ordered -them both to approach and do the bidding of Lí!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To disobey was death. They wanted courage to -die, therefore preferring disgrace, they obsequiously -advanced. Kneeling, <span class='it'>Kau laced the buskins of -Lí</span>, who then ascended the platform, and while reclining -at his ease upon the soft cushion at the feet -of the emperor, Yang stood at his side <a id='ass'></a>assiduously -<span class='it'>rubbing his ink</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus did Lí accomplish his revenge, and triumph -over his enemies!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Taking the pencil, he now, with rapid and easy -strokes, proceeded to indite the answer, which the -emperor vouchsafed to the Po-Hai embassy, and -while he did so, Hwant-sung bent over him in astonishment, -beholding the characters which he traced -with so much rapidity to be identical with those -which had so perplexed his court.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then standing erect upon the right hand of the -“Dragon’s Throne,” in clear distinct tones, Lí read -aloud the imperial answer—the ambassadors trembling -with fear as they listened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And now return,” exclaimed Lí, “and teach -your king that foxes may not war with lions, nor the -cuckoo steal into the eagle’s nest! He is like a -vexed grasshopper striving to combat the mighty -chariot about to crush him, or like a fly in the jaws -of the dragon! When the mighty Hwant-sung, at -whose name fear sits in the hearts of all nations, shall -send a handful of men to seize upon the petty territory -of Po-Hai, blood shall flow a thousand <span class='it'>li</span>!”<a id='r6'/><a href='#f6' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[6]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kneeling reverently before the throne, and knocking -their heads in token of submission, the ambassadors -then withdrew to relate to their king that the -“Celestial Empire was upheld by an Immortal from -the skies!” who stood ever by the throne of the -Dragon, and to whom all men did reverence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From that day the star of Lí was in the ascendent, -and for many years he enjoyed the undivided confidence -of the emperor, and attained a rank in the -scale of letters, which renders the name of Lí celebrated -in Chinese literature. Many volumes of his -beautiful poems and other works are still preserved -in the Imperial Libraries.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_5'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div id='f5'><a href='#r5'>[5]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Small feet.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_6'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div id='f6'><a href='#r6'>[6]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Leagues.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='223' id='Page_223'></span><h1><a id='naval'></a>THE NAVAL OFFICER.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WM. F. LYNCH.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Continued from page 164.</span>)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Gillespie and his daughter had retired below -when the sweeps were gotten out, and had now returned -to the deck. Unconscious of danger, they -looked admiringly upon the shining and beautiful -scene. Nearly abreast the island of Porto Rico, in -full view, lay basking in the beams of the setting -sun, the dark, rich green of its luxuriant growth of -cane, here and there varied by groves of the cotton-tree, -amid which were seen clustering the settlements -of the planters. Astern, but farther distant, -Cape Engano stretched far to seaward, while inland, -ridge over ridge, wooded to their summits, rose the -picturesque mountains of St. Domingo. The numerous -vessels in sight, mostly running before the wind, -varying in size, in rig, and in the color of their canvas, -enlivened the view, while nearer, the frigate in -her towering proportions was borne majestically toward -them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Edward! what a glorious sight!” said the -maiden to her lover, who had stepped to her side, as -she gained the deck. “Look, father! look at that -splendid ship, doesn’t she cleave the waters ‘like a -thing of life?’ But what is the matter, Edward? -You are silent, and seem dejected, do tell me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a moment, dearest,” he whispered, as he left -her to approach the captain, who had beckoned to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Talbot,” said the last, “my little craft is in -great peril, and less than an hour must decide her -fate. The Spaniard will not be silent much longer, -and I advise you to get the passengers below.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was about to propose it,” replied Talbot, and -returning to Miss Gillespie’s side, said, “summon -your fortitude, Mary, the ship which you admire so -much, is a Spanish frigate, and is endeavoring to -capture the vessel we are in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how unfortunate! and will they harm us? -Can they hurt you and father and Frank? Good God! -what is that?” and she shrieked as the ship luffed to -the wind, and fired a shot, which went plunging -across the bows of the schooner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come below, dearest! come quickly! Help me, -Mr. Gillespie, for she has nearly fainted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The maiden and her father were conducted to the -most secure place below, when, resisting the entreaties -of his mistress, Talbot returned to the deck, -which Frank had refused to leave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the first report of the frigate’s gun, the captain -had called out, “Edge her away, quarter-master, -keep her off a point; let the guns alone,” he added, -addressing some of the crew, “let them be, it would -be worse than useless to fire them—the ‘Bird’ must -now trust to her wings alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The little vessel was in fact at the very crisis of -her fate. The last shot had told that they were -within reach of the guns of the enemy; they felt -that their only avenue of escape was through a -gauntlet of fire, and that the loss of a single spar -would certainly insure their capture. It seemed perfect -madness for such a wee thing to abide the wrath -of the huge leviathan, panoplied in thunder, and possessing -almost the power of annihilation. But, in -the forlorn and desperate hope of sustaining the -enemy’s fire for a few moments, without material -injury her captain steadily pursued his way, but cut -his anchors from the bow, and threw four of his guns -overboard. If the wind had been light, the schooner’s -chance would have been a fair one; but the breeze -instead of lulling, seemed to freshen as the sun went -down. As it was, however, there was a bare possibility -of escape, for already the little vessel, lightened -of so much weight, began to increase her velocity—still -there was an abiding, a stunning fear of -being sunk or disabled by the broadside of the frigate. -The latter had already opened her fire, and near the -chase, the fierce, iron hail had fairly lashed the water -into foam, but the schooner was yet materially unharmed, -when a voice more potent than that of gunpowder, -hushed the loud artillery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Unobserved by either, a light and fleecy speck, -more like a wift of smoke than a fragment of a cloud, -had risen over the land, and swift as a meteor shot -across the sky. It was what sailors term a “white -squall,” and it had caught the chaser and the chased -wholly unprepared. Almost simultaneously it struck -them both. The frigate's fore-mast and main-topmast -went by the board, and every sail that was set, was -blown into perfect shreds. The “Humming Bird,” -light and resistless, felt the blast but to succumb before -it—she was whirled over and capsized in an instant. -A number of the crew, entangled in the sails -and rigging were immediately drowned. The remainder -clambered to the upper-rail, to which they -clung with the tenacity that endangered life. In a -paroxysm of anguish, Talbot had thrown himself -down the cabin-hatchway as he felt the vessel going -over, and at imminent hazard had rescued Miss Gillespie, -but her father and the servant-maid perished. -Frank had been saved by one of the seamen, who -held him firmly with one hand, while with the other -he clung to the shrouds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As soon as the survivors were assured of their -immediate safety, they looked around to see if -there were any hopes of being rescued from their -position before the night set in. The frigate had -driven past them, and under a single after-sail was -hove-to, clearing her hull of the wreck. To the westward, -distinct in the reflected light of the sun, which -had descended, were several vessels again unfolding -<span class='pageno' title='224' id='Page_224'></span> -to the breeze the canvas which they had wisely furled -to the passing gust. Some of the larger ones were -again standing boldly out to seaward, while the others -like affrighted wild-fowl, were hovering toward the -shore. They were all too distant, and the air was -fast becoming too obscure for them to see the wreck, -or the unfortunate beings who were perched upon it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the first recovery from her swoon, the grief of -Miss Gillespie for the loss of her father was almost -inconsolable. It required all the endearment and -entreaties of her lover and her brother to prevail on -her to struggle against the spasms which threatened -her very existence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The survivors strove to cheer each other, but the -indiscreet cry of one that he saw the fin of a shark -cleaving the surface of the water, led them to fear -that they were environed by yet greater peril. In -about two hours the moon arose, and her clear, chaste -light silvered the crests of the waves, as they curled -to the now gentle breeze. She had risen scarce more -than her diameter, when the watchers on the wreck -discovered two or three dark objects which seemed -to creep upon the water. Their hopes and their -fears were equally excited, but presently they heard -the splash of oars, and they knew them to be boats -from the frigate. As eager now to be taken as before -to escape from capture, by shouts and cries they attracted -the notice of those who sought them. They -were soon removed to the frigate; the lady and her -brother being led to the cabin, and the remainder, including -Talbot, promiscuously confined on the lower -deck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Under jury-foremast and new main-topmast, the -frigate was the next morning standing under easy -sail, along the southern side of St. Domingo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Repeatedly but ineffectually Talbot had endeavored -to convey a message to Miss Gillespie, and spent -the night in sleepless anxiety on her account. He -knew not into whose hands she had fallen, and -whether her youth and beauty might not, in the hands -of unprincipled men, tempt to ruffianly treatment. -Her brother was with her, it was true, but although -spirited, he was young and feeble compared to the -strong men around him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Early in the morning, Talbot had asked to see the -officer of the watch. He was told that he could not -communicate with any one but through the officer -of the marine guard, who would not make the rounds -for three or four hours. Talbot impatiently waited -for him, and it seemed an age before he made his -appearance. When he did so, and was told that -Talbot wished to speak to him, he superciliously -asked, “Well, sir, what do you want?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish,” replied Talbot, “to communicate through -you to the commander of this ship, that I hold a commission -as lieutenant in the navy of the United States, -and that with the family of Mr. Gillespie, I was a -passenger on board of the privateer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is a singular tale,” remarked the other, incredulously; -“have you any proofs of your identity—where -is your commission?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I <a id='have'></a>haven’t it; with all my baggage, it was, unhappily, -lost in the schooner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This seems incredible,” said the officer, “your -dress, too, does not indicate the position you claim.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am aware of it,” replied Talbot, “for I scrupulously -avoided wearing any part of my uniform, that -in appearance even, I might not be classed among -the complement of that unfortunate vessel. But here -is her commander, who, as well as his crew, will -bear testimony to what I say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let them answer for themselves,” was the abrupt -reply. “If they escape being hung as pirates, they -will fare well.” After a moment’s hesitation, he -added, “I will state what you say to Count Ureña, -our commander, although I do not myself believe it; -but let me advise you not to rely upon the evidence -of these wretches,” pointing to the prisoners, “if you -have no other proof you will fare badly.” As he said -this, he turned upon his heel and walked away, -Talbot with difficulty restraining himself from throttling -him for his coarse, unfeeling rudeness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again, hour after hour passed away in fruitless -anxiety. Every step upon the ladder which led from -above, exciting a thrill of hope, only the instant after -to be crushed in bitter disappointment. At length, -about 2 P.M., an orderly, with a file of marines came -to conduct him to the commander. With alacrity he -obeyed the summons, and when he reached the gun-deck, -from habits of association, he felt cheered at -the sight of the long lines of massive artillery, the -stacks of muskets here and there, surmounted with -their bristling bayonets, and the bright sheen of the -sharpened cutlases. As the cabin-door was thrown -open by the sentry stationed there, he cast a quick -and searching glance around the apartment, in the -hope of seeing his betrothed. She was not there, -and but for the guns projecting from either side, he -could not have realized that he stood in the cabin of -a man-of-war, so rich was its furniture and so gorgeous -its decorations. Gracefully festooned across -its entire width, and partially concealing the white -and highly polished lattice-work of the after-cabin, -was a deep curtain of crimson embroidered and -fringed with gold. On either side, in the recesses -between the guns, were magnificent couches canopied -and covered with the same material, intertwined -with white. Between the forward and the after gun, -on each side, were collections of flowers and fragrant -plants. A large mirror in an arabesque frame, was -inclined over a rose-wood sideboard, laden with -massive plate and a profusion of crystal. A richly -chased silver lamp was suspended over a table, the -cover of which was of white cloth, like the curtain, -fringed with gold. Around were a few rose-wood -chairs, and from several cages were heard the cheerful -and melodious notes of canary-birds. The deck was -covered with the finest matting. On the couch, in the -recess to the left, was seated a man of middle age and -rather delicate features, except the chin and under -lip, which were massive and sensual, and a peculiar -glance of the eye, which gave a sinister aspect to an -otherwise singularly handsome countenance. He -was spare in figure, and to a casual observer, even as -he sat, it was perceptible that he stooped, and his -whole appearance indicated a frequent participant -<span class='pageno' title='225' id='Page_225'></span> -in the orgies of dissipation. Before him stood the -officer of marines, who had just made his official report. -At a signal from the latter, Talbot advanced -toward the count, who said, “I understand, sir, from -the officer of the guard, that you declare yourself to -be a lieutenant in the navy of the United States, but -that you have no evidence to sustain you. How can -you expect me to credit the assertion of a stranger -under such suspicious circumstances as you must admit -your present position to be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have a lady on board, sir, my affianced -bride, who, with her brother, is here under the same -circumstances with myself, they will tell you that I -am not an impostor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your affianced bride,” said the count, not heeding -what he had last said, “you are then the friend for -whom she has been so restless and uneasy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew that she would be so,” replied Talbot; -“may I ask now to see her, that she may corroborate -what I have said?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not so fast,” exclaimed the count, “that you -have gained the affections of the young lady is no -proof of your being what you profess, indeed, you -may have won them under an assumed name and -character.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It ill becomes you, sir,” cried Talbot, highly incensed, -“it ill becomes you to insult a man who for -the time being is in your power; but I warn you that -if I, or those with me, are unnecessarily detained or -harshly treated, you will be held to a severe accountability.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And by whom, sir,” exclaimed the count, turning -pale with rage, “by a man who has no <a id='other'></a>other vouchers -to a most improbable tale, than a horde of pirates, a -mere boy, and a love-sick maiden?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The proofs are sufficient, sir, for any impartial -mind, but I see plainly that you have some purpose -in seeming to disbelieve them—what that purpose is -your conscience best can tell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What mean you, sir, by this insolence; but I -know how to curb and to punish it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Insolence! and punish!” contemptuously answered -Talbot, “those are words used by cowards -when addressing slaves. I defy alike your malice -and your power. You may maltreat me, but a day -of reckoning will surely come. I demand to see -Miss Gillespie and her brother,” he added, as his ear -caught the sound of stifled sobs in the after cabin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The count pulled a bell-rope by his hand, and at -the summons, the sentry who had admitted him, -opened the door and looked in, while from another -door, the steward entered and stood obsequiously by -his master. The latter, pointing to the door, said,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Manuel, take out your prisoner and confine -him apart from the rest; sentry, let them pass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Talbot hesitated a moment, and then said, “I am -unarmed and helpless, and it would therefore be -madness to resist you—but, in the name of humanity, -I ask you, can you listen unmoved to the distress of -the unhappy lady within there; as a man, an officer, -and a nobleman, I appeal to you in her behalf. She -has recently lost her father, as you know, and, save -myself, her young brother is now her only protector.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She will be sufficiently protected, sir, without -your interference—take out the prisoner, Mr. Manuel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The above conversation had taken place in Spanish, -which Talbot spoke fluently, but when he found that -for some sinister purpose, he was not to be permitted -to see Miss Gillespie, he advanced toward the lattice-work -and called out in English, “Mary, dear Mary, -be upon your guard! Frank, do not leave your -sister for a moment; I fear that she is in the hands of -a villain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That I will not,” cried the boy, who vainly tried -to force the door, while his sister sobbed convulsively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The count, who, although not understanding the -language, comprehended the import of the words, -with a gesture of frantic impatience, motioned the -officer to lead his prisoner away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Talbot, satisfied that the danger was lessened by -the timely warning he had given, without resistance, -submitted to be led from the apartment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When left alone, the count remained for some -time in a thoughtful attitude. “If I could but speak -their horrid language,” he said, soliloquizing with -himself, “or if she understood mine, I should certainly -succeed, for as to this would-be bridegroom, -I can easily get rid of him, and of the brother also, -if he prove intractable. Let me see! can I trust -Gonzalez? From the expression of his eye sometimes, -as well as from his never speaking of her, I -fear that he knows all about his unhappy sister; and -yet I must trust him, or abandon all, for he is the -only interpreter we have. There is no help for it; -I cannot give up the game so freshly started—but I -will be wary and watch him closely.” He slightly -touched the bell, “Send Gonzalez to me,” he said to -the attendant, who obeyed the summons. A few -moments after, a young man of 23 or 24 years of -age entered the apartment, and bowing to the count, -awaited his commands in silence. From his spare -figure, he looked taller than he really was. His hair -and moustaches were glossy black, curling in their -rich luxuriance. His eye-brows, thick and bushy, -formed one continuous arch, and the eye beneath, -black and lustrous, was soft and subdued in its ordinary -expression, but at times, in a single glance, -would convey a startling idea of latent but indomitable -energy. His features were almost femininely -regular, and his voice musically clear and sweet. -The count’s fears were not without foundation; his -secretary, for such was the position of Gonzalez, -knew his sister’s wrongs, and like a true Spaniard, -thirsted for an opportunity to revenge them. His -commander scanned him closely where he stood for -some minutes, the young man at first returning his -gaze with a look neither too humble, nor yet audacious, -and then deferentially turned his eyes in another -direction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is the matter, Gonzalez? You seem of -late unusually taciturn and moody.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think, señor, that my health is suffering from -long confinement to the ship. I need recreation on -shore.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='226' id='Page_226'></span> -“What mean you by long confinement—were you -not on shore repeatedly last month in Havana?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, señor! If you will recollect, I applied -several times to go, but on each occasion you had -important letters or despatches to write.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you hear from home before we sailed?” and -the count’s look became intensely riveted upon him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young man slightly colored, “I heard indirectly, -señor, that all were well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From whom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From a muleteer who resides in the adjoining -village.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did he give you any particulars?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“None, señor, worth relating.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The count paused. He was dissatisfied, yet feared -that by further questioning he might excite the very -suspicions he wished to repress. Assuming a bland -and conciliatory tone, he said, “I have been to blame, -Gonzalez, and will make amends. When we reach -port, you shall have ample opportunities to recruit -on shore. Should you need funds, consider my -purse at your service.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks, señor! my salary is more than sufficient -for all my wants.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, should you be in need, remember my -offer; but come nearer, I have now something confidential -to impart. You are aware that the lady -brought on board last night is now in the after-cabin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am, señor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One of the prisoners, doubtless an impostor, assumes -that she is his betrothed. I wish you to see -her and ascertain how she is affected toward him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is needless, señor. At the invitation of Lieutenant -Flores, I accompanied him in his boat last -night, and in rescuing the prisoners from the wreck, -witnessed how tenderly that lady clung to the man -you speak of.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It may have been the convulsiveness of fear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If so, señor, it would have subsided with the -occasion that gave it birth; but it continued to the -last, and while she evinced for the lad the solicitude -of an elder sister, she seemed to regard the American -as her chosen and sole protector.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How were they separated?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I understood, señor, by your orders,” replied the -youth with an air of surprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean,” said the count, somewhat confused, -“how did they bear it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was at first disposed to resist, but a moment -after submitted with an air of stern resignation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She at first seemed bewildered, and could not -comprehend the purport of the order; when she did -so, she implored her lover, for such he must be, not -to desert her, but after he had whispered a few words -to her, she too submitted, and with such meek gentleness -as moved the hardest hearts to sympathy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sympathy,” exclaimed the count, reddening; -“where there is no real distress, there can be no occasion -for its exercise. In common humanity, I am -bound to protect her from the acts of an impostor.” -There was a slight twitch of the secretary’s upper -lip, but he said nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At all events, I wish you to converse with her, -Gonzalez. Try if you cannot reconcile her to a -short separation from her lover, and assure her that -as soon as I am satisfied that he is what he represents -himself, he shall be free.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The secretary bowed in acquiescence, and the -count rising, led the way into the after-cabin. It -was fit for the boudoir of a queen. A carpet of the -richest Persian dyes and softest texture was under -foot. Except in front, the whole apartment was -lined with fawn-colored tapestries; the windows -framed into the after ports had party-colored curtains -of fawn and cherry colors. An ottoman and several -chairs were covered with embroidered damask corresponding -to the tapestry; a small, richly-carved -book-case was filled with handsomely bound books. -There was a pair of globes upon stands, and a harp, -a guitar, mirrors and candelabra, with a few small -but exquisite paintings completed the equipment of -this cell of a Sybarite.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With disheveled hair, and eyes inflamed with -weeping, in all the abandonment of grief, Miss Gillespie -lay with her head upon her brother’s breast, -who, as the door was opened, threw his arms around, -as if more perfectly to protect her. With a courteous -air, and all the finished breeding of an artificial gentleman, -the count advanced and paid his respects -through the medium of the interpreter. “Had she -sustained no injury from the accident of the night -before? Had she recovered from her alarm? -Had she slept well? Could he do any thing for -her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three first questions she answered in monosyllables. -At the fourth, she made an effort to speak, -but maiden bashfulness overcame her, and she looked -imploringly to her brother. The youth construed -her feelings rightly, and said,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We wish, sir, to see our friend, Mr. Talbot, who -was, with us, a passenger in the schooner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At present it cannot be,” answered the count, -“but when we reach Havana, he will doubtless prove -his character, and then you can be again united, -but,” addressing her, “so much beauty should not -be marred by untimely grief. A few days more and -your friend will be restored to liberty. Here I -cannot make any distinction between him and the -other prisoners. Let me therefore entreat you, Miss, -to dry up your tears, and let a smile once more -wreath itself upon your lovely cheek.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Say to him,” asked Miss G., of the interpreter, -“that I am in deep affliction. Yesterday I lost my -father, and now, when I am most helpless, I am by -his act,” (she looked toward the count) “separated -from the friend whom that father had chosen as my -protector through life. I am therefore in no mood to -listen to compliments, which would be ill-timed from -any one, most of all from him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The count stifled his vexation and said, “I beg -pardon for this intrusion. I will await a more seasonable -time to express my sympathy and make a -proffer of my services;” so saying, he withdrew, -desiring Gonzalez to remain and gather the particulars -of their history.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='227' id='Page_227'></span> -An unprincipled man, in his sphere possessing -almost unlimited power, he felt himself baffled by an -unarmed prisoner and a helpless maid. “Till now,” -he said to himself, “I thought Dolores beautiful, but -her features want the intellectual grace and harmony -of this northern houri. At all hazards, she must be -mine. If all else fails, the drug must be resorted to. -It is certainly the speediest and I know not but that -it is the best; but I am neglecting my first precaution.” -He rung the bell for the steward, a dark, swarthy -Italian, with the body of a man surmounted on the -legs of a dwarf.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Domingo,” said his master, “go into the secret -passage and watch Gonzalez, who is now with the -lady. Note every thing that he does, and try to -gather the meaning of what he says.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The steward obeying, disappeared through a panel -that opened with a spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In about half an hour, Gonzalez came forth from -the inner cabin, and stated what he had learned of the -prisoners, which, as there was no concealment, is -precisely what is known to the reader. When he had -retired, at a peculiar signal from the count, the panel -noiselessly flew open, and the steward reappeared before -his master. His account was any thing but -satisfactory, and the count’s brow was darkened -with deep mistrust, as he listened to the recital.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About sunset, Miss Gillespie, aroused by some incentive, -sent to ask if her brother and herself might -be permitted to walk on the upper deck. Assent -was most graciously given, and the count himself -escorted her. Finding that she would not converse, -and that his presence was evidently irksome to her, -he smothered his chagrin, and after a few turns, left -the orphans to themselves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was an hour and a scene fitted to captivate the -eye and refresh the soul; and such was its soothing -influences, that Miss G. frequently found her mind -wandering from the contemplation of the perils which -environed her. The night previous, the ship, driven -before the blast, was whirled with resistless velocity -along a bed of seething foam. Now, the gentle wind -borne from the land, wafted fragrance on its wing, -and the sea, slightly ruffled, seemed to enjoy the refreshing -embrace of its sister element; the ship, too, -under a cloud of canvas, snow-white and full distended, -pressed majestically on, the spray, like fairy -fret-work curling and combing beneath the bow and -the rippling wake sparkled in the rays of the setting-sun. -The gorgeous western sky was tinged with -the hues of crimson and gold; the south was a boundless -expanse of blue, the island of St. Domingo, lofty, -picturesque and beautiful, bounded the northern and -eastern horizon. The land, but little cultivated, -seemed fertile in the extreme, and was covered with -lofty and umbrageous trees, the tangled and luxuriant -undergrowth seeming so interlaced as even at high -noon to <a id='inter'></a>intercept the light of the sun. The near -mountains were covered to their very summits with -verdure, not the tawny verdure of a northern clime, -but the brilliant green of the tropics, while the loftier -mountains wreathed their bald and craggy tops with -the clouds that floated in the distance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun had gone down and the moon was up: -still Miss Gillespie paced the deck with her brother. -It was evident that she had some purpose in view, -and by those who watched her, she was observed to -cast frequent and furtive glances around. At length -a figure that had been stealthily gliding along under -the shadow of the bulwarks to leeward, suddenly -stepped beside her, and whispered, “Lady, I have -endeavored to see him, but failed. Some time tonight -I will surely succeed. In the meantime there -is but one resource. Take this powder, and when -you go below, dissolve it, and take a part yourself, -giving the remainder to your brother. If you would -be safe, neither of you should sleep a wink to-night. -Be careful of what you eat or drink. But, hush! -there is a man’s head raised above the rail—he has -been observing us. I must away—but do not forget -this.” He handed a small folded paper as he spoke, -and immediately disappeared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Gillespie had brought a book on deck with -her, and by occasionally seeming to read it, had at -first given a pretext for remaining. Into this book -she inserted the paper, and soon after turned to leave -the deck, when some one brushed rudely against her, -and the book fell. The person, who, in her confusion -she did not recognize, instantly picked it up, -and in seeming eagerness to return it, let it fall a -second time. Frightened almost beside herself, Miss -G. now snatched it up and hurried below. <a id='unfor'></a>Unfortunately, -the paper was not to be found. So dreadful -seemed the fate before her, that with difficulty she -restrained herself from shrieking aloud. Frank -cheered her all he could, although he had but a faint -conception of the danger. They determined to deny -themselves food and liquids of every description, -hoping thereby to avoid the administration of an -opiate. Alas! they knew not the infernal arts of -the demon in human shape, who had them in his -power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That evening, as was his wont once a week, the -count supped with his officers in the ward-room, and -he remained until near midnight; but in the meantime -his diabolical agent had not been idle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About 11 o’clock Frank and his sister were sensible -that they were inhaling an aromatic and fragrant -vapor. At first they enjoyed it; but it soon occurred -to them that they were fast becoming drowsy. With -desperate exertions they endeavored to force the -doors, or to obtain assistance by their loud and vociferous -outcries. The breeze had unfortunately freshened -on deck, and there was much tramping and -running overhead, so that they were unheard, or if -heard, unheeded. One would suppose that this agitation -and fear would have proved an antidote to the -insidious effects of the drug; but no! gently, imperceptibly, -they felt their systems relax; they soon -began to wonder at their alarm; a delicious langour -enthralled them, and as volume after volume of the -scented vapor rolled into the apartment, they surrendered -themselves to its influence, and pressed -in each other’s arms, were soon wrapped in a profound -and insensible sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About an hour before, Talbot, to whom the night -<span class='pageno' title='228' id='Page_228'></span> -previous had been a sleepless one, although racked -with anxiety, had fallen into a light and fitful slumber, -when he was instantly aroused by a hand being laid -upon his chest, and a voice whispering in his ear, -“Do not speak, but follow; imitate my motions as -exactly as you can. For God’s sake be cautious, you -know not how much is at stake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The speaker, who was lying beside him on the -deck, then rolled over toward the hatchway; but -when the sentry turned in his round, he remained -perfectly still. This he repeated, slowly and cautiously; -Talbot followed his example, until they -reached what sailor’s term the combings of the main-hatch, -i.e. the elevated pieces around it, to prevent -the water from running into the hold. He there -waited for some time until he saw the sentry loiter at -the furthest end of his round, when he quickly threw -himself down the hatch, and crept on one side out of -sight. As soon as Talbot had done the same, he led -the way among the casks and barrels. When they -had proceeded a little distance, he whispered, “The -master’s-mate of the hold, who is a fellow-townsman -of mine, had this passage opened for me to-day. Had -he refused, and he hesitated for a long time, that -villain in the cabin would inevitably succeed in his -plans.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What plans?” eagerly asked Talbot. “I know -not who you are, or whither you are leading me—explain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will soon know me; but let it content you -now that I lead you to save your mistress. But that -I feared the interference of that ruffian, the steward, -I would have gone alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lead on, then! lead quickly!” said Talbot, his -fears strongly excited.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They resumed their way, groping along in the -dark, and taking every step with the greatest caution. -In a short while they distinguished the faint light -admitted from the deck above through the fore-hatch. -As soon as they had gained this opening, Gonzalez, -for it was he, taking the opportunity when the sentry -was furthest off, and had his back toward him, sprung -quickly up, and blowing out the light in a lantern -which hung to an upright timber, immediately returned -to Talbot’s side. As was anticipated, the -sentry, supposing the light to have been extinguished -by a flurry of wind, took the lantern down, and proceeded -to the main-hatch, to relight the lamp. As he -did so, they both, unperceived, succeeded in gaining -first the gun and then the upper-deck. Then separating, -each one quietly and undetected reached the -quarter-deck, and again rejoining each other, they -slipped through a port-hole to a narrow platform -outside, called the main-chains, and there, in intense -anxiety, concerted their future movements, for the -most perilous part of their enterprise was yet before -them.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_3'>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The convivial party in the ward-room had been -broken up by a squall, and with the other sea-officers, -the count had repaired to the quarter-deck. For a -short time the wind blew with violence, and was succeeded -by a heavy fall of rain. In less than an hour -there was a perfect calm, and the sails flapped sluggishly -against the masts as the ship moved with the -undulations of a light ground-swell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the cabin, the solitary lamp, suspended from a -beam, through the gauze-like vapor shed its soft light -upon the rich and costly furniture, and revealed the -forms of the sleepers, whose deep breathing alone -proclaimed their existence, so immovable was their -position—so much deprived did their bodies seem of -the watchful guardianship of the spirits within them. -The faint and silvery light, the attenuated vapor, the -fragrant odors wafted from the flowers in front, the -boy, with his noble brow undimmed by sin or sorrow, -the lovely maiden, one arm upon her breast, and one -clasped around her brother, formed an atmosphere -and a group in and around which angels might love -to linger. But a serpent had stealthily glided in, and -the count, with maddening pulse and gloating eye, -looked upon his unconscious victim. Incapable of -any feeling but that of a hardened libertine, no thought -of the dire ruin he was about to inflict for one instant -stayed his purpose. As the spider, after weaving its -web, contemplates the struggles of the entangled fly, -before clutching to devour it, so he stood, reveling -in anticipation on the sensual feast before him. At -length he approached, he gently touched, then breathed -upon, and called them by their names, and then -more rudely shook them. As he anticipated, they -neither heard nor heeded him. The stillness was -death-like and profound. He removed the boy from -the girl's embrace, and she lay resistless at his mercy. -For an instant longer he paused; he fondled her hand, -he played with her tresses; he stooped to kiss her -moist and parted lip.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The fiend-like purpose was frustrated: a crashing -blow descended upon his head, and he rolled over -and fell senseless on the deck. With one foot upon -the prostrate form, and the massive bar again uplifted, -Talbot stood over him, while from the doorway -Gonzales looked on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hold!” said the last, as Talbot was about to repeat -the blow, “Hold! another stroke may finish -him, and that is a task reserved for me alone.” He -advanced as he spoke, and proceeded to examine the -wound. “It is a very severe contusion,” he added -a moment after, “and if it had fallen a little more -direct, the blow would have been a fatal one. He is -now wholly insensible, and unless my skill in surgery -fails me, he will remain, for some days at least, in a -perfect stupor. It is most fortunate. We need not -now attempt an escape, for no one can suspect us, -and before he recovers, we shall probably be in Havana. -Let us place him in his room and retire; the -vile, pandering steward will not dare to enter during -the night, and in the morning, I will be hovering near. -It is useless, no human efforts can awake them now,” -he added, as he saw Talbot endeavoring to arouse -the maiden: “but they are safe, and that they may -continue so, we must not lose a moment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With a sigh, Talbot relinquished the hand of his -mistress, which he had clasped within his own, and, -pressing his lips to her fair forehead, turned to assist -<span class='pageno' title='229' id='Page_229'></span> -Gonzalez in removing the wounded man. They -then effaced all traces of their presence, and retired -as they had come, through the window of the quarter-gallery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning the table in the forward cabin -was spread for breakfast; the steward, in passing to -and fro, grinned leeringly as from time to time he -looked toward the after cabin. One of the midshipmen -of the watch came to report 8 o’clock. The -steward tapped lightly at the state-room door, but -receiving no reply, and not presuming to disturb his -master, took it upon himself to report to the officers -that the count said “Very well”—the usual reply. -By 9 o’clock, he began to be uneasy, not that he apprehended -any thing to have happened to his master, -but that the lady might awake before the count had -left her apartment. At the lattice-work, and to the -key-hole of his master’s door, he alternately placed -his ear. At the last he thought that he distinguished -a deep and smothered breathing; at the first he could -hear no sound whatever. Satisfied that his master -was in his state-room, he felt more easy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At 10 o’clock, the wonted hour, the drum beat to -quarters for inspection. When the first lieutenant -came to make his report, the steward intimated that -the count was indisposed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has he directed that he should not be disturbed?” -asked the officer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The steward admitted that he had not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you been summoned to him in the night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I must make my report.” He advanced -to the door and knocked, at first gently, and then -louder and more loudly still. There was no reply; -and the officer, turning the bolt, to the surprise of the -steward, the door yielded to his push, and flew open. -(That their mode of entrance might not be suspected, -Gonzalez had unlocked it before retiring.) The -count was found with his wrapper on, lying in a -profound stupor, the blood clotted thickly over the -wound he had received. The orphans were buried -in a sleep which the surgeon pronounced unnatural; -and the steward was suspected of having drugged -them, and afterward attempted the life of his master. -This miserable wretch was thrown in irons as the -supposed murderer of the man in whose contemplated -villainy he had been a willing and a free participant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Light and baffling winds detained the frigate, and -on the evening of the fourth day after the incident -above related, she had just cleared the windward -passage, and with Cape la Mole astern, was standing -along the northern shore of Cuba, for the port of -Havana. The count had laid in a comatose state -since his accident, and his constant heavy breathing -and frequent moans, showed how much pressure -there was upon the brain, and how much he suffered. -In the course of this day his respiration had become -more regular and less oppressive, and about 3 o’clock -in the afternoon, he awoke to consciousness and -a sense of pain. By degrees his recollection returned, -and after making a few inquiries, to the surprise of -every one, he ordered the steward to be released, -and again summoned in attendance upon him. These -two, the master, just rescued from the grave, and -the servant who would have found an ignominious -one had his master died, conferred for a long time -together. After questioning his steward closely, the -count said, “I am satisfied, Domingo, that it was -not from your hand that I received the blow. I left -you in the forward cabin, you could only have entered -on the starboard side, and in that direction my head -was turned, and I must have seen you. The blow -was on the other side—probably from some one -secreted there. Were you at any time absent from -the cabin, after I went to the ward-room?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not an instant, señor!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is strange! Could he have entered by the -quarter-gallery?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must have been so, señor, although I can discover -no marks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suspect Gonzalez,” said the count; “indeed, I -am sure that he has been concerned, but then he had -not the vigor to deal such a blow. That hateful -American must have been the man. I will be deeply -revenged!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Late that afternoon, as Talbot, sitting aloof from -the other prisoners, was grieving that Mary’s persecutor -had recovered his faculties before the arrival -of the ship in port, and from which he feared the most -serious consequences, he was accosted by the master’s-mate, -who said, in passing, “Courage, my -friend, you will soon be at liberty—take a cigar to -cheer you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Talbot thanked him, and was about to decline, -when he caught the eye of the officer, and noticed -that he pushed a particular one out from the small -bundle he held in his hand; Talbot took it, and watching -his opportunity, opened his cigar unobserved. -It contained a small slip of paper within its folds -with these words. “We are strongly suspected, if -not discovered; I know it from the searching examination -I have undergone. We must fly and reach -Havana before the ship if possible. Be on the alert -for any opportunity that may present to slip up the -main-hatch ladder, near which I will be hovering. -Do not hesitate! Here you are absolutely within the -power of the tyrant. He will throw you into the -Moro Castle as soon as we arrive, and before your -case can be investigated, months must elapse, and -in the meantime, the lady will be lost to you forever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This note agitated Talbot exceedingly. It was -agonizing to think of leaving Mary and her brother -in the hands of their unprincipled captor; and yet, -from his own experience thus far, he felt sure, that if -he remained, he would be kept separated from her, -and most probably confined in a dungeon until her -ruin was completed. His only consolation was, that -the count could not recover sufficiently to renew his -nefarious designs before the ship had reached her -port of destination. This consideration determined -him to make his escape if possible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There had been some water heated in the coppers, -(anglice—boiler,) for the purpose of giving the count -a prescribed bath. It so happened that while the -cook’s attention was drawn another way, a piece of -<span class='pageno' title='230' id='Page_230'></span> -meat was thrown in, which rendered the water -greasy and unfit for its destined use. The master’s-mate -was therefore directed to have more drawn -from the hold. Accordingly he came upon the lower -or birth-deck, and as he stepped from the ladder, -said, sufficiently loud for Talbot to hear, who was -reclined beside it, “Look out!” and passed immediately -on. The latter, taking the hint, but uncertain -how to apply it, remained for a few moments in great -suspense, when the master’s-mate called the sentry -forward to hold the light for him. As the latter -moved forward, Talbot availed himself of the opportunity, -and instantly hurried up the ladder, although -yet uncertain if such were the plan concerted by his -friends. He was very soon assured, however, for -nearly abreast of him, from the shadow between two -of the guns, a figure advanced a few steps and immediately -retired again. It proved to be Gonzalez, and -together they clambered out over one of the guns, -and found themselves by the small skiff of the privateer, -which had been saved and hoisted up immediately -under the anchor in the waist. Fortunately, -the wind had hauled nearly ahead, and with the -yards sharp-braced up, the ship was sailing sluggishly -along, with her head rather diagonally inclined -toward the shore.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We must remain quiet here,” whispered Gonzalez, -“until some movement be made on deck, in -the noise of which we can lower the skiff undetected.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wind was gradually freshening, and the ship -began to plunge with the increasing swell. After a -while the topgallant-sails were taken in, but it was -an operation so quickly performed, that before the -boat was lowered half the distance it was suspended -from the water, the noise ceased, and they were -obliged to hold on. In about half an hour after, which -seemed to them an almost interminable space of time, -they were cheered with the welcome order,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Man the main clew-garnets and buntlines,” preparatory -to hauling up the mainsail. As the men -ran away with the ropes, and clued and gathered the -large and loudly flapping sail to the yard, Talbot and -Gonzalez lowered the boat, and casting her loose, the -ship passed by without any one observing them and -was soon lost to view in the obscurity of the night. -They had exchanged apprehended evils from human -malignity for instant and appalling danger. The -moon, struggling through a bank of clouds and shorn -of her brilliancy by the opposing mist, cast her furtive -beams upon the fretted sea. Instead of the prolonged -and easy swell of the mid-ocean, the gulf, as -if moved by adverse tides, whirled its waves about -like some huge Briareus, tossing his hundred arms -in the wildest and most furious contortions. The -skiff was so light, so frail, and so difficult of trim, -that they were every moment in danger of upsetting. -The swell rapidly increased, and as they sunk into -the trough of the sea, and shut out the faint horizon, -the succeeding wave overshadowed, and its crest -seemed to curl in anger above them. Sometimes a -wave, like some monster rising from the deep, looked -down black and threatening upon the tiny boat, and -then rolling its seething foam along the sides, it -rushed ahead, and gathering into a mass, seemed to -await her coming. Thinly clad, and soon wet to the -skin, as they rode upon the tops of the waves, they -suffered bitterly from the coldness of the wind. In the -hollow of the sea, they were sheltered one moment -only to be more exposed the next. Sometimes riding -upon the broken crest of a wave, they felt upon their -bed of foam, as insignificant and far more helpless -than the gulls which, disturbed in their slumber, -screamed around them. The oars were of little service, -save to steady the boat in the dreadful pitchings -and careerings to which it was every instant subjected. -One managed the oars, or sculls rather, while -the other steered and occasionally bailed. There -could be no transfer of labor, for it was certain death -to attempt a change of position. Although the -current set along the land, the wind and the heave -of the sea, drove them indirectly toward it. After -five hours incessant fatigue, cold, cramped and -wearied to exhaustion, they reached the near vicinity -of the shore, and running along it for about a mile, in -increased danger, for the boat was now nearly broadside -to the sea, they made the mouth of a small -harbor, into which, as their frames thrilled with gratitude, -they pulled with all their might. As the peace -and the joys of heaven are to the wrangling and contumelies -of this world, so was the placid stillness of -that sheltered nook to the fierce wind and troubled -sea without. The transition was as sudden as it was -delightful, and with uncovered heads and upturned -gaze, each paid his heartfelt tribute of thankfulness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On one side of the sequestered little bay, through -the dim and uncertain light, they discovered two or -three huts, embowered and almost concealed by -groves of the umbrageous and productive banana, -whose large pendent-leaves waving in the wind, -seemed at one time to beckon them on, and at another -to warn them from approaching. It was evidently -a fishing settlement, for there were some boats -hauled up on the shore, and a long seine was hung -upon a number of upright poles. Pulling toward -what seemed the usual landing, their light skiff grated -upon the pebbly beach, and they leaped, overjoyed, -upon the silent shore—silent and mute in all that -pertains to human action or the human voice, but -eloquent, most eloquent, in the outpourings of a rich -and teeming earth, and the gushing emotions of -thankfulness it awakened in the bosoms of those two -weary and persecuted men.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-top:0.5em;'>[<span class='it'>To be continued.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div><h1><a id='vic'></a>VICTORY AND DEFEAT.</h1></div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>To-day, with loud acclaim the welkin rings</p> -<p class='line'>In praise of deeds the shout of <span class='sc'>Victory</span> brings:</p> -<p class='line'>To-morrow, not e’en Echo will repeat</p> -<p class='line'>The praise of deeds then canceled by <span class='sc'>Defeat</span>.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='231' id='Page_231'></span><h1><a id='mother'></a>TO MOTHER.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ANNIE GREY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Oh! wake, my mother! wake! and hail</p> -<p class='line'>  With me this dawning day;</p> -<p class='line'>Oh wake, my mother! wake and list</p> -<p class='line'>  Thy daughter’s fervent lay.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>She comes to seek thy blessing,</p> -<p class='line'>  And to whisper in thine ear—</p> -<p class='line'>That warmer glows her love for thee</p> -<p class='line'>  With every added year.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Wake, mother! wake! while faintly steal</p> -<p class='line'>  The sunbeams pure and bright,</p> -<p class='line'>And playful throw around thy couch</p> -<p class='line'>  Their most bewitching light.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>For this is a hallowed day, mother!</p> -<p class='line'>  A hallowed day to me;</p> -<p class='line'>’Twas at its dawn, four years ago,</p> -<p class='line'>  That first I greeted thee.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>We love the sunbeams, mother,</p> -<p class='line'>  And wheresoe’er they rest,</p> -<p class='line'>We feel their sacred influence,</p> -<p class='line'>  As though some angel guest</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Concealed itself ’mid golden rays,</p> -<p class='line'>  That from God’s holy shrine</p> -<p class='line'>Fall as night-dews or summer-showers,</p> -<p class='line'>  Refreshing and divine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>We love the sunbeams, mother!</p> -<p class='line'>  What beauties they awake,</p> -<p class='line'>When first from the clear eastern sky</p> -<p class='line'>  All gloriously they break.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! how the flowers delight to feel</p> -<p class='line'>  Their warm kiss from above,</p> -<p class='line'>And brighten ’neath it as the heart</p> -<p class='line'>  Beneath a kiss of love;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And merrier dance the waters,</p> -<p class='line'>  When every ripple shows</p> -<p class='line'>A sparkling crown like diamond gems,</p> -<p class='line'>  As carelessly it flows.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But wake, my mother! wake and list</p> -<p class='line'>  The strain I have to sing;</p> -<p class='line'>’Tis not of these glad sunbeams,</p> -<p class='line'>  Though joy around they fling,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But of a sunbeam brighter,</p> -<p class='line'>  That cheers me all the while,</p> -<p class='line'>And never knoweth change, mother!</p> -<p class='line'>  The sunbeam of thy smile.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>How often, oh! how often,</p> -<p class='line'>  When my heart feels lone and drear,</p> -<p class='line'>Its thrilling presence banishes</p> -<p class='line'>  All thoughts of grief or fear.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>How often, often, mother!</p> -<p class='line'>  When I’ve mourned, but scarce knew why,</p> -<p class='line'>I’ve hailed its light, and soon forgot</p> -<p class='line'>  The tear-drop and the sigh.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>For thoughts of sadness will intrude</p> -<p class='line'>  Upon my soul oft times;</p> -<p class='line'>They come and bid me ne’er forget</p> -<p class='line'>  That there are purer climes.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And still I trust its radiance</p> -<p class='line'>  May fall upon my soul</p> -<p class='line'>Through all my future hours and days,</p> -<p class='line'>  As onward still they roll.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And, mother! oh, my mother!</p> -<p class='line'>  When this dream of life is o’er,</p> -<p class='line'>When God calls back his wandering child</p> -<p class='line'>  To Heaven’s unclouded shore,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Amid the pure and golden beams</p> -<p class='line'>  That fall around me there,</p> -<p class='line'>The gentle stir of angel wings</p> -<p class='line'>  And harp-strings softly fair,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I’ll not forget thee, mother!</p> -<p class='line'>  Though fleeting years have flown,</p> -<p class='line'>But come sometimes and watch o’er thee</p> -<p class='line'>  When thou art all alone.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Thou wilt not see me, but I’ll come</p> -<p class='line'>  Upon the summer breeze,</p> -<p class='line'>Or hidden lay amid the shade</p> -<p class='line'>  Of young, green summer leaves,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And whisper in thine ear, mother,</p> -<p class='line'>  Of what I feel too well,</p> -<p class='line'>But words of mortal dialect</p> -<p class='line'>  Can never, never tell.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I’ll whisper of my fervent love,</p> -<p class='line'>  And breathe low thanks to thee</p> -<p class='line'>For all the tenderness and care</p> -<p class='line'>  Thou hast bestowed on me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And I shall hope to meet thee</p> -<p class='line'>  In the sinless land on high,</p> -<p class='line'>Where we can lisp in tones of love</p> -<p class='line'>  The language of the sky.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! I shall be waiting, mother dear!</p> -<p class='line'>  And watching all the while,</p> -<p class='line'>To greet again, with happy heart,</p> -<p class='line'>  The sunbeam of thy smile.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ring'></a>ON A DIAMOND RING.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY CHARLES E. TRAIL.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Rare is the diamond’s lustre, and the mine</p> -<p class='line'>  No richer treasure hath than yellow gold;</p> -<p class='line'>  Yet were its jewels of a price untold,</p> -<p class='line'>Still dearer charms this little ring doth shrine.</p> -<p class='line'>Circling thy taper finger, how divine</p> -<p class='line'>  Its lot; oft to thy fair cheek prest,</p> -<p class='line'>  And by such contact past expression blest,</p> -<p class='line'>  Or sparkling ’mid those sunny locks of thine!</p> -<p class='line'>  Oh! these are uses which might consecrate</p> -<p class='line'>    The basest metal, or the dull, vile earth;</p> -<p class='line'>  Enhance the diamond’s price, or elevate</p> -<p class='line'>    The clod to an inestimable worth.</p> -<p class='line'>Would that so dear a gem, which thus hath shone</p> -<p class='line'>Upon thy snowy hand, might ever bless my own!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='232' id='Page_232'></span><h1><a id='recluse'></a>THE RECLUSE. NO. I.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY PARK BENJAMIN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the series of papers (and they will have the rare -merit of being short) which I am about to offer to the -reader, I shall not so far follow the ill fashion of the -day as to strive to be “original.” I do not mean by -this remark to signify that I shall not give my own -thoughts in my own way. But I shall not twist the -English language out of all shape and comeliness; -I shall not Germanize and Frenchize and Italianize; -I shall express my ideas in the simplest possible -words; I shall always choose the Saxon rather than -the Norman; I shall endeavor to write so that “he -who runs may read.” Were I a teacher of youth, -I should recommend as the best models of style -Swift and Southey, Addison, Steele, Channing, Sir -James Macintosh, Irving, not Carlyle, Gibbon, Johnson, -Emerson. I set plain Nature above gorgeous -Art. The epithet “natural” conveys to my mind -the highest praise of verse or prose. A style may -indeed be eminently artistic, but still appear to be -natural.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have said enough to show the manner in which -I shall try to convey my ideas. Fewer words will -set forth the character of my matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have no subject. I think, in my solitude, of -many things. As thoughts occur to me I put them -down. Though a Recluse, and having but little society -except that of woods and fields, rocks and -waters, I am fond of contemplating the events of the -hour. Many of my topics will therefore be of immediate -interest. They will at least have the charm -of variety, and my “mode of treatment,” to use an -expression of physicians, the merit of brevity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is sufficient introduction. Courteous reader, -I salute you.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_4'>I.—THE CROTON CELEBRATION.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Of all public displays, that which affected me most -deeply was the celebration of the opening of the Croton -river into the great city of New York. A day -had been appointed by the powers in being. Arrangements -were made for a mighty civic procession. It -was a jubilee of Cold Water. The Temperance -Societies figured chiefly on the occasion. Those -trades which best flourish by the practice of temperance -were numerously represented, bearing before -them their symbols and instruments. I remember -a printing-press on a platform, borne triumphantly -along, working as it went, throwing off handbills, on -which odes were printed, to the eager and amused -crowd on both sides of the way. By the side of that -printing-press sat, in smiling dignity, Colonel Stone, -as everybody called him, then editor of the Commercial -Advertiser. Kind-hearted, conscientious, hospitable, -credulous, verbose gentleman! thou art sleeping -as silently as those aboriginal lords of the soil -whose lives thou commemoratedst!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have seen a great many multitudes, but never so -quiet, so orderly, so well-dressed, so happy a concourse -as that which filled the windows and balconies -and doorsteps, and absolutely covered the sidewalks, -on the morning of the Croton celebration. -Throngs of gayly clad women and children moved -merrily about; for there was not a solitary drunkard -that day in all the streets of the city to molest or -make them afraid. An individual under the influence -of any liquor more potent than that which was -gushing from a thousand fountains, would have been -an anomaly too hideous to be borne. Braver than -Julius Cæsar or Zachary Taylor must he have been -who dared to took upon wine red in the cup on such -a day as that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I well remember the reflections which passed -through my mind as I stood gazing on that happy and -soul-comforting scene. The treaty of peace, as it -might well have been called, establishing the North-Eastern -boundary of the United States, settling a -<span class='it'>questio vexata</span> of long continuance, which had again -and again threatened war, had just been concluded -between this country and Great Britain—thanks to -the pacific dispositions and noble talents of the negotiators. -Thinking of this, as I looked at the mighty -civic array, at the procession, which was like an -endless chain of human beings, the head of it, after -having traveled through six miles of streets, meeting -the tail of it, which had not yet drawn an inch of its -slow length along, below the Park—as I looked at -the smiling faces and the sporting fountains—I exclaimed -to myself, How glorious a scene is this! -How much worthier of a free people than the martial -triumphs of old! A great good has been done. -Energy and Skill have effected a stupendous work. -Thousands and thousands are met together on an appointed -day, to commemorate an achievement which -shall prove a blessing to many generations yet unborn. -Indeed, indeed this is more to be desired -than the most complete of victories.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I went on thus with my cogitations. Let me suppose -that these negotiations between two nations, -strong in men and the resources of warfare, negotiations -skillfully conducted to a most fortunate issue, -and the establishment of a peace in which all the -world is interested, had proved to be unsuccessful. -Suppose that war had been declared, that we had no -longer ago than yesterday received intelligence of a -conquest on the sea, that a fierce battle had been -fought, and that our ships had come into port laden -with spoils and crowded with prisoners. How different -to-day would have been our rejoicings! The -outward demonstrations might, in some respects, -<span class='pageno' title='233' id='Page_233'></span> -have been the same. The streets would have been -filled with multitudes of men; the bells of the churches -(oh sacrilege!) would have pealed long and loudly; -the flag of our country would have waved from many -a house-top and “liberty-pole”—yet, in the midst of -all this, there would have been distinguished the trophies -of wo and of disaster. The cannon, which had -dealed death to the brave, would have been borne -through the streets, and the banners of the conquered -trailed in the dust. Execrations would have mingled -with shouts, and frowns of hatred with smiles of joy. -Sorrow and anguish would have been comates with -exultation and delight, and the hilarity of all hearts -deeply subdued by the sad faces of many mourners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And how different would have been our inward -emotions! Instead of “calm thoughts regular as -infant’s breath,” we should have experienced a -tumultuous rapture, a demoniac triumph, an uneasy -and restless joy, a trembling pride, a satisfaction -with the present embittered by fears for the future. -Now we rejoice with cheerful consciences. No -“coming events cast their shadows before” to cloud -the horizon of hope. We look upon a cloudless firmament -above us and around us. We are indeed -proud of the task which has been accomplished; but -ours is a pride unmixed with any baser emotion—a -pride honorable to humanity. Ah, how much more -glorious is this than a victory! It is a sight to make -the old young—a sight worthy of perpetual commemoration. -It will be always recollected. We -shall tell it to our children’s children. From time to -time our authors shall write of it—so that it may -always live in the memory of the age.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_5'>II.—ON A BIBLE.</h2> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Could this outside beholden be</p> -<p class='line'>To cost and cunning equally,</p> -<p class='line'>Or were it such as might suffice</p> -<p class='line'>The luxury of curious eyes—</p> -<p class='line'>Yet would I have my dearest look</p> -<p class='line'>Not on the cover, but the Book.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>If thou art merry, here are airs;</p> -<p class='line'>If melancholy, here are prayers;</p> -<p class='line'>If studious, here are those things writ</p> -<p class='line'>Which may deserve thy ablest wit;</p> -<p class='line'>If hungry, here is food divine;</p> -<p class='line'>If thirsty, Nectar, Heavenly wine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Read then, but first thyself prepare</p> -<p class='line'>To read with zeal and mark with care;</p> -<p class='line'>And when thou read’st what here is writ,</p> -<p class='line'>Let thy best practice second it;</p> -<p class='line'>So twice each precept read shall be,</p> -<p class='line'>First in the Book, and next in thee.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Much reading may thy spirits wrong,</p> -<p class='line'>Refresh them therefore with a song;</p> -<p class='line'>And, that thy music praise may merit,</p> -<p class='line'>Sing David’s Psalms with David’s spirit,</p> -<p class='line'>That, as thy voice doth pierce men’s ears,</p> -<p class='line'>So shall thy prayers and vows the spheres.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Thus read, thus sing, and then to thee</p> -<p class='line'>The very earth a Heaven shall be;</p> -<p class='line'>If thus thou readest, thou shalt find</p> -<p class='line'>A private Heaven within thy mind,</p> -<p class='line'>And, singing thus, before thou die</p> -<p class='line'>Thou sing’st thy part to those on high.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>I have modernized the orthography of the foregoing -quaint and beautiful stanzas, from the dress in -which they are clothed in the second part of the -Diary of Lady Willoughby, just published by John -Wiley, bookseller, in New York. They are happily -imitative of the style of the poets of olden time. -They remind one of George Herbert—that “sweet -singer in the Israel” of the English church, of Donne, -of Wotton, and of other lyrists, who chanted the -praises of our God. To my ear, much dearer are -such simple, tuneful verses than the grandiloquent -outpourings of the more modern muse. They come -home, as it were, to one’s child-like sympathies. -They awaken the thoughts of “youthly years;” they -freshen the withered feelings of the heart, as heaven’s -dew freshens the dried leaves in summer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let me recommend this most tender, most soul-touching -of “late works”—these passages from the -Diary of Lady Willoughby. It is not a <span class='it'>real</span> “aunciente -booke,” but an imitation; yet, like certain -copies of a picture by an old master, it may boast -some touches better than the original. Chatterton’s -forgeries were not more perfect in their way, though -this be no forgery, but what it pretends to be—namely, -an invention. I feared, when I took up the second -part of this remarkable production, that it would deteriorate -in interest, that the hand of the <span class='it'>artist</span> would -become manifest. But it is not so. Here, throughout, -is the <span class='it'>ars celare artem</span> in perfection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How touching a lesson do the feigned sorrows -the Lady Willoughby present to her sex. What absence -of repining! What reliance on the justice -and mercy of God! What trust in the merits of her -Redeemer! Her faith is never shaken. Her soul is -never dismayed. With an expression holier than -Raphael has imparted to his pictures of the Madonna, -she looks upward and is comforted. Ever into the -troubled waters of her soul descends the angel of -peace. Perfect pattern is she for wives and mothers. -Excellent example of a Christian woman.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_6'>III.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Are not some of the prophecies being fulfilled in -these latter days? Trace we not in the decay of old -empires the tempest of God’s wrath? Is not the arm -of the Lord stretched out over the people and over -the nations of the earth? Breaks he not thrones to -pieces as if they were potter’s vessels? Where are -the kings and princes who were born and chosen -to rule over men? “How are the mighty fallen!” -Even now, as by the mouth of his holy prophet, -Isaiah, may the Lord say, “Is not <span class='it'>this</span> the fast that I -have chosen. To loose the bands of wickedness, to -undo the heavy burdened, and to let the oppressed -go free, and that ye break every yoke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Truly has my mind, shut out as I am from commune -with the busy world—truly has my mind been -deeply, solemnly affected by the wondrous events -which are passing in those realms, the pages of -whose history are printed in blood. I see the hand -of God in all. I trace the fulfillment of prophecies -<span class='pageno' title='234' id='Page_234'></span> -contained in the Book of books. I am oppressed by -a sensation of awe as I read the words of inspiration -and discern their truth in these latter days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Was not the heart of Louis Philippe before his -sudden and terrible overthrow as stout as the heart -of the King of Assyria? Did not he, too, say of his -monarchy, his rule and his riches—not only to himself, -but even to the stranger in his land—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the strength of my hand I have done it and -by my wisdom; for I am prudent; and I have removed -the bounds of the people, and have robbed -their treasures, and I have put down the inhabitants -like a valiant man; and my hand hath found as a -nest the riches of the people.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And was he not likewise cast down? Was not a -burning kindled under his glory like the burning of a -fire? “And behold at evening-tide, trouble, and -before the morning he <span class='it'>was</span> not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is the portion of them that spoil us,” shouted -the people of France at the overthrow of the family -of Orleans. “This is the portion of them that spoil -us, and the lot of them that rob us.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rome'></a>ROME.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY R. H. STODDARD.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>In the heart of Rome eternal, the Coliseum stands sublime,</p> -<p class='line'>Lofty in the midst of ruins, like a temple built to Time.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Vast, colossal, ’tis with piles of broken arches reared on high,</p> -<p class='line'>But the dome is gone, and nothing roofs it but the summer sky.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And the walls are rent, and gaping wide, and crumbling fast away,</p> -<p class='line'>And the columns waste, but moss and grasses cover their decay.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>When the sky of June was bluest, melting as the eye of love,</p> -<p class='line'>And the breezes from Campagnia bore the city’s hum above;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Poring o’er the rich and classic authors of the Age of Gold,</p> -<p class='line'>Virgil, Horace, Terence, Plautus, Livy and historians old,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I imagined Rome restored as in the glorious days of yore,</p> -<p class='line'>Peopled by the great and mighty, as it shall be nevermore.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I beheld the Past before me, and the fallen circus rose,</p> -<p class='line'>And the leaning columns righted, and the ruins seemed to close;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Flags were streaming on the lofty walls, and standards of renown,</p> -<p class='line'>Plucked from out some hostile army, or some sacked and burning town;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Proud patricians filled the boxes, judges, senators, in white,</p> -<p class='line'>Consuls from remotest provinces, and hosts of ladies bright;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And the emperor sat among them, in his regal purple proud,</p> -<p class='line'>And below a countless sea of heads, the common plebeian crowd;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Wrestlers struggled in the ring, and athlete and equestrians bold,</p> -<p class='line'>And the steeds and dashing chariots raised a cloud of dusty gold;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Troops of sworded gladiators, Dacian captives, fought and bled,</p> -<p class='line'>And the lists were strewn with wretches lying on their bucklers dead;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And in the arena Christian saints and martyrs, old and gray,</p> -<p class='line'>Were trampled in the dust, and torn by savage beasts of prey.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Sick of this, I turned and looking out the arches in the street,</p> -<p class='line'>I beheld a mighty multitude, a crowd with hurrying feet;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Nobles with their flowing togas, simple artisans bedight</p> -<p class='line'>In their holyday attire and badges, maids with eyes of light,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Waving hands to lovers distant, and the little children clung</p> -<p class='line'>To their mother’s gowns, and nurses held aloft their infants young,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And afar and pouring through the city gates a long array,</p> -<p class='line'>And in front, in his triumphal car, the hero of the day;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And his coursers champed their frosted bits and pranced, but all in vain,</p> -<p class='line'>Braced he stood, with streaming robe, and checked them with a tightened rein;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And a mournful group of kingly captives, dusty, drooping low,</p> -<p class='line'>Followed, fettered to his chariot, gracing his triumphal show;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Augurs and soothsayers, flamen, tribunes, lictors bearing rods,</p> -<p class='line'>And gray-bearded priests, with olive boughs and statues of the gods,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Shaking from their brazen censers clouds of incense to the skies,</p> -<p class='line'>Leading lowing steers, in wreaths and garlands decked, to sacrifice.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Sacred nymphs from temples near, in spotless white, and vestal throngs</p> -<p class='line'>Followed solemn, dancing mystic dances, singing choral songs.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Cohorts of the Roman soldiers conquering legions marched behind,</p> -<p class='line'>With their burnished armor shining and their banners on the wind;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And, with distance faint, the brattling drums, the trumpet’s mighty blast,</p> -<p class='line'>And the clarion rung and sounded like an echo from the Past.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>All at once the glorious vision melted, faded in the air,</p> -<p class='line'>Like a desert exhalation, leaving all its ruin bare.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And, in place of glory and the beauty of the olden day,</p> -<p class='line'>I beheld the Queen of Cities wasted, fallen in decay.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='235' id='Page_235'></span><h1><a id='miss'></a>THE MISSIONARY, SUNLIGHT.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY CAROLINE C——.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>  “Her presence makes thick darkness light—</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>  Hope’s rainbow spreadeth o’er her path;</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Through her, weak souls are filled with might,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>  And Mercy triumphs over Wrath.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>A sweet Sister of Charity, a faithful, never-wearying -missionary, is the beautiful Sunlight, daughter of -the proud monarch who reigns supremely over the -broad dominions of the “upper blue!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Six long, tedious months in her father’s gorgeous -palace, had the lovely maiden been constrained to -mingle in the festal scenes which enlivened the -monarch’s dwelling during that dreary time when -the poor earth lay helplessly beneath the iron hand -of winter. How often from the palace-windows -had she looked with eyes dimmed with tears, and -most melancholy glances on the world that was subject -during all those months to a <span class='it'>natural</span> kind of -heathenish slavery! Despoiled of their rich garments -the old princes of the forests stretched forth their -naked arms toward her in supplication of her presence -and charitable aid. A voice, to no ear audible -save her own, crept up from beneath the winding-sheets -which envelopes streamlet and river; and a -wail that broke forth from the poor in their agony -and want, reached her gentle heart, and her tears fell -afresh. And even the children of gayety and fashion -felt an irresistable yearning in their hearts to listen -once more to her soft and gentle teachings!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But “’tis always the darkest the hour before day;” -and while Sunlight was half-despairingly revolving -in her mind all possible means by which she might -again, without the utmost danger of sudden death, -be enabled freely to wander over earth to beautify -and bless it, the discerning old king, her father, saw -how pale her cheek was growing, and how dimness -was creeping over her bright eyes. He knew she -wearied of, and longed heartily to escape from the -heartless pomp and magnificence which surrounded -her; so he resolved to carry into immediate execution -a plan he had long been contemplating. He -would make a sudden and strong attack on his old -foe who was lording it so magnificently over earth! -He would teach the rough, boorish chieftain, in a -way he could not mistake, that there were other and -mightier powers in existence than his own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So he fought long and valiantly, and won the -victory—a glorious one it was, too. In a few days -many sharp, fierce conflicts had taken place, the -glittering crown of winter was broken, his staff of -office taken from him, and the disagreeable old gray-beard -was forced to skulk away in silence and shame -and confusion of face, to his bleak and fitting home -at the North Pole.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>(Would he were wise enough not to attempt again -another short-lived triumph! But he is so Napoleon-ish -in his nature, we may well have our fears -on this point.)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the king had returned to his palace the night -of the last decisive victory—after he had thrown -aside his golden armor, though weary from the conflict, -he paused not a moment to rest till he had summoned -his young daughter to his presence, and thus -made known to her his will.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-morrow, my child, put on thy most beautiful -and radiant garments, and let the bright smile come -back once more to thy face, for I have work for thee -to do. I have subdued the army of King Winter, -and now it shall be thine to make joy in the place -where he has sown desolation. It is thine, to restore -order and comfort and happiness and beauty in -the dwelling place where he reigned in such a rude, -uncivilized, mobocrastic manner. Ah! that light in -thine eye tells me it is no ungrateful task I set for thee! -it is very plain now, the cause of all thy sighing and -tears for so long back; the old bloom will revisit thy -cheek again I see. But remember, thy mission is -one all-important. Do all things well, and nothing -hastily—and now to rest! This shall be no gala-night, -thou needest all thy strength for thy work; so haste to -thy couch, and be stirring early in the morn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the maiden was thus assured of the fulfillment -of her greatest hope, she bended down at the -king’s feet and said, joyfully, “Oh, my father, I bless -thee for thy goodness. The dear earth, she shall -swiftly know thy mercy, and array herself in glorious -garments in which to honor her deliverer! To-morrow, -to-morrow shall see that if thou, my father, -art strong to make free, thy daughter is loving, and -patient, and full of good-will to help and adorn the -miserable captives thou hast delivered from bondage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And early the next morning the lovely princess -went forth alone, rejecting all offers of a body-guard, -a most devout and devoted missionary, whose end -and aim was to make glad the waste-places, and to -cause the wilderness to blossom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were as yet, here and there, stubborn patches -of snow on the ground, and a vindictive, sharp-voiced -wind, a wounded straggler belonging to the -white king’s retreating army, and his chief object -seemed to be to exhaust the patience of all who were -within hearing wherever he moved, by his rude insulting -speeches. But totally unmindful of him, -and maintaining a most dignified silence, Sunlight -passed by him, well knowing that he too would -<span class='pageno' title='236' id='Page_236'></span> -speedily be compelled to follow whither his master -had gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes dark, threatening clouds would flit before -her eyes, for a moment totally obstructing her vision, -but a brave heart was that maiden’s, and when these -petty annoyances were passed, she continued on her -way patiently and hopefully as before. An apparently -hopeless and endless task was that Sunlight had undertaken. -She must, as it were, perform the part of -resurrectionist. She must breathe life into a breathless -body, and call the seemingly dead forth from -their graves. The labor seemed too vast for her -gentle hand, it appeared almost impossible that she -should accomplish it. She was alone, too, in a -strange, unpleasant kind of silence. There was not -the voice of even a bird to cheer her on, and stiff and -mute the brooklets lay in their coffins of ice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But she is very far from despairing. And her strength -is, indeed, perfectly wonderful. Stealing with quiet -steps along the banks of the little streams, she speaks -to them some words apparently powerful as the -“open sesame,” for the waters begin to open their -eyes, faintly the pulse begins to throb, and the heart -to beat, and ere long they have wholly thrown off -that cold shroud which enveloped them, while it in -turn becomes part and parcel of their own rejoicing -life. Then they set forth rejoicing in their strength, -and glorying in their newly-gained liberty, careering -through the just awakening fields, and astonishing -them by the beautiful soft songs of thanksgiving they -unremittingly sing. The princess is not alone then—one -class of prisoners she has released, and their glad -voices cheer and encourage her in her work of love.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Day after day she returns unweariedly to the great -field of her pleasant labor, and day by day perfects -the evidence of her progress. A most efficient co-worker -whom she arouses and entices to join her in -her work, is the gentle spirit of the summer wind. -Encouraged and excited by her smile, he takes the -oath of fealty, and heartily strives to aid his mistress. -From the brow of earth he wipes away the tears the -stars have wept, and multitudinous are his kind unceasing -offices, for she has promised him a dominion -which shall spread over many <a id='rejuv'></a>rejuvenated forests, -and freshly garmented fields!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the old woods she lays her hand upon the -myriad branches, and on the softening ground beneath -which lie the buried roots. From every bough -she calleth forth the tender buds, and ere long she -spreads with kindly hands a rich, green mantle over -all the forests. And in those “leafy-pavilions,” the -returning birds she has summoned from the south, -build their nests, and sing merrily through the long, -happy days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Quickened into life by her presence and word, over -all the barren fields the soft and tender grass springs -up; the moss becomes aspiring, too, even the humble -moss, and disowning its gray garments, it dons the -more beautiful and universal green livery. A thousand -thousand insects spring into sudden existence—the -voice of the croaking frog is once more found in -tune. Violets bud and blossom, the air grows increasingly -more mild; even the wind learns a sweeter -song; the heavens finding it impossible to resist the -general rejoicing which follows the most successful -labor of the missionary, put on a brighter and a more -resplendant garment, and the dear Sunlight is filled -with unfeigned rejoicing when she sees how speedily -the regenerating influences of her glance are recognized.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is spring-time then!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Weeks pass on, but Sunlight does not tarry in her -work; the grand commencement she has made, but -the work of perfecting is yet to be done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Gradually she spreads a richer green over all the -meadows; all along the banks of streams and lakes -the grass grows long and soft—the leaves hang heavier -and fuller on the forest boughs—a softer voice whispers -through the day-time and the night—flowers -blossom more richly and abundantly, and the air is -filled with their fragrance. Sunlight has spread the -perfection of beauty over earth, and filled with unutterable -affection for the world she has beautified, -more warm and tender grow her embracings—and -in return the voices of all the earth go up in a fervent -declaration of love and gratitude to the fair -missionary who has so generously, so gloriously labored -for them. The good, beautiful Sunlight! no -wonder all creation loves her, and blesses her; no -wonder that innumerable objects, on all other subjects -dull and voiceless, discover a way in which to -sing her praises!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It were idle to attempt a detail of all the <span class='it'>homes and -hearts</span> that even in one day she blesses and enlivens -by her presence; but let us for a few moments follow -her in her wanderings, perhaps thereby we may gain -a proper appreciation of the labors of this good angel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is morning, and she has just alighted on the -earth; and see now where her light feet are first -directed. On yonder hill there stands a lofty building—secure -as a fortress, made of stone, and brick, and -iron. It is a gloomy, comfortless looking place; the -windows, though it is a warm summer morning, are -fast closed, and bars of iron stretch over them! It is -a prison-house; but, though its inmates are guilty -criminals, the pure and high-born Sunlight does not -disdain to visit them. She is looking through all those -grated windows fronting us—will you also look in?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is a criminal condemned to death—a hardened -villain, whose unbridled passions have worked -his ruin. He is yet far from old, not a gray hair is -there in all that thick black mass which crowns his -head! From his youth up his life has been a life of -sin, and little remorse. Heaven has at last overtaken -him, and he will soon fearfully expiate, in -part, his guilt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yesterday, justice delivered to him the sentence; -he listened to it as though he heard it in a trance, and -ever since they brought him from the presence of -the excited court, he has sat on that hard pallet, immoveable -as now. His food is untouched—he has -no time to feel the wants of nature; his arms are -closely, convulsively folded upon his breast; the -black, large eyes, have a fixed and stony glare, in -which it would seem few tears had ever gathered; -firmly compressed are the pale lips; no prayer or -<span class='pageno' title='237' id='Page_237'></span> -sigh, or moan shall issue from them! He knows -there is no way of escape for him—that on such a -day, at such an hour, he will perish by the executioner’s -hand; and that dreadful fact it is which is -constantly staring in his face, and writing such a record -of shame and terror in his heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He feels no penitence—nothing but anger, that he -has stupidly suffered himself to be overtaken by the -hand of the law—that his crimes have been detected. -It is not the fear of God that is before his eyes; it is -not dread of the hereafter which so overpowers him, -but hatred of his fellow men, and a desire to wreak -his vengeance on them who have brought to light -his guilt!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Through all the long, dark hours he has rested on -his hard bed, listening to the “voices of the night,” -and not one softening thought has entered his heart, -not one repentant sigh has he breathed. It seemed -then as though nothing could arouse him as he so -coldly beheld the reality, death staring him in the -face. But now see, there is a faint glow on the -narrow window-pane, and it grows brighter and -brighter. Creeping slowly along the wall it reaches -him at last—it falls upon his breast—it glances over -his hard face, where sin has written her signature -with a pen, as of iron—it looks into his stern eyes—that -light arouses him, and while he returns the -piercing gaze of the sunbeam, human feelings are -aroused in his breast once more. He rises from the -place where in his rage he had flung himself—he -gazes round the contracted, miserable cell in which -he is secured! Alas! and he has fallen so far that -humanity acknowledges the justice of immuring him -in a prison! and as he gazes on the gentle spirit -whose presence fills his cell with light, the recollections -of his far-off, innocent childhood—of his early -home, from whence not a great many years ago he -went with the blessing of his old mother sounding in -his ears, steals over him—his heart is softening—his -lips tremble—the stolid, hardened look has passed -from his countenance—he is human again—he weeps! -Blessed Sunlight! Fairest and holiest of the missionaries, -who come from the halls of heaven to purify -the earth, she has subdued him! Oh, we will hope -that now, since the heart of stone has been changed -to one of flesh, the good, redeeming work may not -stop there; we will hope that when he is standing in -his last hour upon the scaffold, when she comes to -him again, it may be with a faith-supported heart -that he will behold in her brightness a token of the -blissful rest which awaits his repentant, pardoned -spirit!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Close adjoining this cell there is another which -likewise has its guilty inmate—a miserable, abandoned -woman. She is sleeping. For her violation -of the laws both of God and man she is now imprisoned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She is sleeping, but hers is a troubled slumber, -for conscience is at work night and day in the mind -of that woman, accusing and condemning—yet she -sleeps. She is dreaming of the husband of her early -years—of the child in whom, when she was young -and innocent, and of contented mind, her hope and -joy centered; she is dreaming of her maiden home—of -her bridal morning. The voices of her former, -youthful friends are ringing in her ears; the innocent -thoughts and hopes of girlhood fill her heart again. -She wakens weeping—for in imagination she is -standing once more beside the death-bed of her -mother, listening to the words of warning and counsel -that mother forces herself to speak when she beholds -with all a parent’s agony that the girl of her hopes -is treading in the wild paths of shame and sin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wakens in tears, with a strange feeling of -contrition that she has seldom or never felt before -agitating her bosom, to see the Sunlight looking -down with pitying glance upon her—to see the good -spirit whose mission it is to make glad and bright the -earth, deigning to creep through those prison-bars to -speak a word of counsel and hope to her. Thoughts -of her husband, on whose honest name she has cast -such dishonor, and of her deserted, innocent child, -come to her full of most sorrowful reproach. A longing -for the restoration of her lost virtue—a conviction -of the peacefulness and happiness and exceeding -reward attending goodness, ever make her unsealed -tears flow more freely. Beside that narrow bed, on -the stone floor of her cell, she kneels down in her -sorrow and contrition, and on her knees she breathes -forth such a prayer as never before went from her -heart. And the dear Sunlight is witness of that -prayer! She looks upon the kneeling penitent with -joy—and from that now hallowed place she does not -steal forth hastily, leaving the cell dreary and comfortless -as before; she is there when the woman rises -from her supplication, as though to assure of the -smile of Heavenly forgiveness, which may yet await -her. She remains to give encouragement to the hope -that the corroding stains now resting on her soul -may be ere long effectually wiped away—that reconcilement -and love and peace, are yet for her on -earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Near this woman’s cell there is another where a -youth, unjustly accused, singularly blameless and innocent -in his life, is singing a morning hymn of -praise and adoration. Hemmed in as he is by the -prison-wall, deprived of that freedom which is the -good man’s <span class='it'>best</span> possession, confined with guilty men, -and bearing himself the heavy imputation of crime, -yet is he supported by the comforting knowledge of -his innocence, and by the assurance that the eye -which is strong to pierce the secrets of the heart, -knows his innocence. The dreariness of his confinement -does not fill his soul with terror; his faith -is strong in the power and goodness of his Maker, and -so it is with patience he performs the labor apportioned -him, looking confidently for the hour of his -release, and the honorable conviction of his uprightness -in the minds of all honest men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And when the kindly Sunlight appears before <span class='it'>him</span>, -her presence but serves to foster these hopes. It is -a sweet message of patience and faith she whispers -to him, and after she has departed, through all the -long day its remembrance strengthens and cheers -him. Blessed be the good spirit who remembers to -visit these sad, afflicted, guilty ones in the hour when -<span class='pageno' title='238' id='Page_238'></span> -they are well-nigh forgotten of all the world, and by -their own kin!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beyond the prison, on the same range of elevated -grounds, just without the city, there is a cemetery—a -quiet place where the dead sleep in peace. And -thither Sunlight bends her golden, sandaled feet. -How brightly her shadow lies on the white monuments, -and on the grass and flowers. How quiet -and holy is this place, there is no sound of the tread -of living feet to disturb the rest of the slumberers; -no human form at this early hour is treading in this -solitary place to muse on the “vanity of all earthly -things,” or to weep over the departed! Oh, yes! -there, by that newly-made grave, where the sod has -been placed so recently, there, where the print of the -feet of the funeral-train is yet fresh on the loosened -ground, there stands a child with flowers in her -hand; she has come to lay them on the grave of her -mother! The Sunlight knew that she would meet -her there, for every morning since the day the funeral-train -paused there, and laid the loving mother in the -dark, cold, “narrow house,” the little girl has visited -that grave, bringing with her to beautify it, and make -it seem a rest more sweet and cheerful, the flowers -from her little garden, which early in the spring her -mother planted there. When the child goes back to -the city, the vast crowds of life will have awakened, -and the rush, and jar, and strife, will have begun; -happy were it for all those multitudes, if a voice, -gentle and holy in its teaching as has spoken to that -young girl, whispered also to them, ere they mingled -in the whirlpools of business and pleasure!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then amid the dwellings of the city Sunlight -wanders next. And by no means is she sure to honor -first with her presence the mansions of the rich; for -at such an early hour she would hardly receive a -welcome there; perhaps, however, this is not the -sole reason why the very first place which she -chooses to enter is the cot of the humble laborer. -Gently does she lay her fair hand on his rude, -weather-worn frame, and tenderly she kisses his -hard-browned face, as a loving mother embraces -her infant. And if the man does not at once awaken -at the call of her royal highness, she does not go -away and leave him in <span class='it'>humanly</span> anger, but yet -more lovingly does she caress him, thinking meanwhile -to herself, “poor man, he was worn out by -his hard work yesterday.” And so at last by her -patient gentleness she succeeds in awakening him—and -when he rubs his eyes, and sees her waiting for -him there, with her soft hand, on which the regal -ring is glistening, resting so lovingly upon him, how -he reproaches himself that he has dared to sleep -while she was honoring his poor roof by her presence! -and how fervent is the blessing with which -his heart blesses her, as he hastens away to his labor -with a light heart and renewed courage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Later in the day, peeping into the small windows -of the unpretending school-room, she beckons to the -little children to come out and ramble with her among -the fields, to hunt for the ripe strawberries in the -grass, and to gather the violets, and lilies, and <a id='wild'></a>wild-geranium -flowers which grow in the shady woods. -A beautiful song she sings to the merry youngsters—a -song whose burden has more of wisdom in it than -many gather from their books in the coarse of years—a -lesson of reverence of freedom, and of innocent -love for nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sunlight is not content with merely resting like -a <span class='it'>visible blessing</span> on the head of the gentle girl -whose breast is throbbing with a “love for all things -pure and holy,” she steals into her guileless heart, -and makes <span class='it'>that</span> glorious by her smiling there; and -the little one laughs while she lingers, because she -fancies that all the future to which she looks forward, -will prove as bright and joyous as the unclouded -present. And as for the king’s daughter, -she knows when she hears that joyous ringing laugh -which always welcomes her presence, that it is -indeed more blessed to give than to receive!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bright-eyed maiden <span class='it'>loves</span> children, with all -the earnestness of her soft, true heart, and how -earnestly they return her love, let every man and -woman and child answer! She is, indeed, like a -kind and gentle elder friend to them—like a friend -whose heart has not grown cold or hard from much -mingling with the world, who knows how to sympathize -with them in their simple joys, who listens to -their merry voices with a tender interest, which -time has not been enabled to make cold or false.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well may the children love her, whose smile is -the grand main-spring of their joy—the constant inspirer -of their never-ceasing hope!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Look for a moment into this alms-house. Poor -people, the wretchedly poor, who were rendered at -last, by long destitution utterly unable to work with -the rude elements of life, which lay like broken useless -tools around them, are gathered here for rest, that -they may gain strength for a renewal of their conflict! -For a few weeks, and perhaps a longer time, -they may dwell in this comfortable shelter, and partake -of food, <span class='it'>not</span> gathered from the refuse of rich -men’s tables—they may partially rest from their hard, -unsatisfactory, unproductive labor. Let us hope -that Sunlight may not speak vainly to them now, as -every day she livens up their new home, let us hope -they may understand the cheering messages she -brings to them, and as they learn more of the goodness -and justice of their Creator <span class='it'>than they have ever -yet had time</span> to learn, perhaps with more of hope and -resignation they will endure their burden. It were -well to go through necessity to a poor-house, even -if we can find no other school in which to learn the -grand lesson of endurance and continuance in well-doing; -there, perhaps, it would not be impossible to -understand the messages dear Sunlight delivers every -day to our unappreciating, slow-hearing minds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Notwithstanding all our boasted democracy, there -is scarcely a being on the face of the earth who embraces -with quite such heartiness its principles, and -so understands its precepts as—Sunlight. How graciously -her hand is laid on the matted locks of those -children of want; how lovingly and earnestly is her -kiss imprinted on their toil-grimmed faces—how -radiantly her smile envelops them. Ah! well-a-day! -would there were in human hearts as much of genuine -<span class='pageno' title='239' id='Page_239'></span> -love! No sham-tenderness, nor aristocratic, cold-blooded, -<span class='it'>repelling</span> fondness, is there in her embracing, -stronger than a <span class='it'>human</span> heart’s beating is that -which proclaims the life that is in <span class='it'>her</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>See now in this other place, where helpless orphans -are collected and cared for, children whose parents -have died and left them helpless and dependent on -the bounty of the world; Sunlight has not forgotten -them either. Kindly hands and charitable hearts -have gathered these little ones from hovels of sin, -and sorrow, and shame, and nurtured by the good -and the wise, in early manhood and womanhood they -will be prepared to struggle for themselves, and to -bear their own life-burden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Day after day the affectionate Sunlight visits these -assembled little ones, and adds her cheerful blessing -to that which God has already pronounced on them, -whose love has prompted them out of their abundance -to support and comfort the destitute and friendless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And there is another place teeming with human -life, where this good friend of earth and her children -comes daily, but where there are very few who may -welcome her smiling approach, but few to know -certainly of her departure when she is gone. This -is the home for the blind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How many are the fair young faces and graceful, -gentle forms and innocent hearts, how frequent are -the kindly words in that place; and yet, alas! how -small the power to see and know the beauty of the -world; how few the eyes to behold the approaching -of the fair <a id='dau'></a>daughter of the sun! The blind live there, -but Sunlight does not shun them! When she enters -their dwelling-place unsummoned, and only attended -by that glory with which God has adorned her, they -may, it is a fact they often do, know that something -blessed and heavenly is nigh, because they feel it in -their enlivening senses, in the warmth of her caressing. -But they may not touch her hand; and when -they speak to her she does not answer them; and -so they know she is not a mortal, but a spirit who -may not speak with an audible voice to them—a -spirit though which loves and blesses them!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let us follow on further in her path, where polished -doors are fastened against the intruding world. It is -a home of fashion, but from the parlor windows no -token of life are seen. The blinds are closed—the -dwelling looks uninhabited. But there <span class='it'>is</span> life within, -ay, and death, too! Around the silver door-knob, and -circling the door-bell handle, where the hands of the -wealthy and gay have so often rested, (but very rarely -those of the poor and needy,) there is wound a scarf -of crape, and mournfully the death-token flutters in -the morning air. For two days scarcely a form has -entered those doors; the sufferers within, however -much they may have rejoiced in display in former -days, have no wish that there may be spectators to -their sorrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet there is one—a not often heeded guest, though -a seldom failing one—who comes to them now they -cannot shut her out; she longs to utter some soothing -and consoling word. She penetrates to the very -scene of their grief. She looks into the silent chamber -where the father and mother are weeping over their -only child—the child of whom they had made an -idol, whom God, who hath said “thou shalt have <span class='it'>no</span> -gods but me,” hath taken away from them. They -have with their own hands laid their child in her coffin, -ere long they will see her borne away from them -forever; so it is with unutterable sorrow they stand -beside that little one and gaze on her pale face. The -blinds are closed, and the curtains partly drawn, but -through an open shutter the Sunlight enters the -darkened room, and drawing near to the bereaved -parents, she lays her hand, oh, so gently on the forehead -of the child!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The clustering curls which fall upon that brow -seem almost illuminate beneath the pressure of that -hand—and the mother’s tears fall faster as she looks -on the beautiful little one that will be so soon hidden -away from the pleasant day-light and the hopes of -life. But as the father looks, his sorrow is abated, -his voice is lifted up, there is hope in its tone, he -says, “Mary, let us weep no longer over our child, -her spirit has already won a brighter crown than that -the sunlight lays upon her head.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And the mother’s grief becomes less wild, and -humble is the voice with which she makes answer,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God help us, it was his to take away who gave.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now with more of submission under their -affliction, with much of hope that cheered even in -the midst of their bereavement, they will see their -child laid in the funeral-vault to meet their eyes no -more until the resurrection morning—and with -chastened hearts, and more thoughtfully they will -tread the path set before them, feeling convinced -and thankful that sorrow has taught them a lesson of -wisdom they never could have learned in a life like -that they had lived.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Through the opened Gothic windows of the old -church she is speeding, for what? To make beautiful -by her presence the temple of the Lord. See! before -the altar there is gathered a little group, and a -maiden and a youth are answering the binding, “I -will,” to a question than which none more fraught -with deep and solemn meaning was ever propounded -to mortal man and woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bridegroom has placed upon his companion’s -finger the uniting ring—she is his wife. You see she -has arrayed herself gayly; it is the great festival of -her life—may it not prove the adornment has been -for the ceremony of the sacrifice of all the dearest and -best hopes of her trusting young heart! Around these -happy ones are gathered their most familiar, dearest -friends; before them the “solemn priest,” and, hark! -with mingled words of warning, and of counsel, and -of blessing, he pronounces them now man and wife. -And upon the newly-wedded ones is resting the congratulatory -smile of Sunlight! She bids them joy in -their love, and gives the bridegroom the comforting -assurance that his will not prove a cross and turbulent -bride, for his wedding-day is calm and bright, -and over all the sky there is not one speck of cloud!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But why does the Sunlight linger when the bridal -party has gone forth? She is about the altar and -chancel, as though there were others yet who would -need her presence and her blessing there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='240' id='Page_240'></span> -Ah! there are steps—another group is approaching -the awaiting “holy man of God.” A woman comes, -bearing in her arms a child for baptism. The font -containing the regenerating waters is there in readiness. -Troops of invisible angels are nigh to listen -to and make record of the solemn vows now to be -made, and the spirit of the living God is there also, -a witness, merciful in his omnipotence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are but few who accompany the woman—she -comes in no pomp and state to dedicate her child -to God in baptism; neither is the offering she brings -adorned with the pride of wealth. The mother is -poor—the child an heir of poverty. But will He -therefore spurn the gift? “He that cometh to me I -will in no wise cast out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The father of the child, the husband of the mother -is dead—and her widow’s weeds but “faintly tell -the sorrow of her heart.” Therefore it is with so -much the more trustful confidence she has come with -her child to the altar, she will give him into the -watchful care of the Almighty Father of the fatherless! -With what a solemn earnest voice she takes upon -herself, for the child, the vow of renouncement of -the world and its sinful desires; and when the sign of -the cross is laid upon the brow of her infant, and the -holy waters which typify its regeneration are poured -upon his head, it is with heartfelt gratitude she lifts -her heart to heaven, with heartfelt confidence she -implores his watchful love and care. And all the -while on the uncovered head of the child the glance -of the sunlight has rested, as if in token of the acceptance -of the offering the mother has made, in -token that the blessing and mercy of God would be -upon that child for whom a holy vow was registered -in heaven, which he must one day redeem, or else -pay the fearful penalty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now the mother with her child and friends -have left the church, and a sacred quiet reigns there -once more; yet the priest lingers by the altar, still -arrayed in his robes of office, and Sunlight also remains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And, hark! once more the “deep-toned bell” is -ringing now—tolling mournfully—no wedding-peal -of joy is that, from out the heart of the strong iron is -rung the stern tale that another mortal hath put on -immortality! Now they come, a long and silent -train, and foremost move the bearers treading -heavily; “it is a man they bear”—an aged man, the -measure of whose cup of life was well filled, reaching -even the brim; and following after them are the -children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren -of the deceased, and the procession is closed by his -many friends and neighbors. Of all that lengthened -train there is not one who set out on the path of life -with the dead man. One by one his early companions -passed away, there are none who retain a -recollection of that aged face when it was smooth, -and of those locks now so very white and thin, as -they were in earlier years; not one who shared the -hopes of his childhood with him—few who mingled -with him in the scenes remembered now as of the -old, old time. Yet the mourners weep, and the bells -toll mournfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old man has finished his course with honor -and with joy. Reverenced and loved, he has gone -down to the grave—no, I must not say that, he has -gone upward <span class='it'>to rest on the bosom of his Father</span>! In -boyhood he was wild, and fearless, and reckless—his -manhood, generous and upright, nobly redeemed -his early days—and happy, and peaceful, and honorable, -was his “green old age.” And now he has -“gone to his reward”—his race well run, his labor -all fulfilled, it seems strange that any should weep. -They have laid back the coffin-lid that the assembled -people may once more look on their venerated -friend. Oh, how peacefully he sleeps, and lovingly, -as on the unconscious infant, the Sunlight, that messenger -of consolation, looks upon the calm, cold face, -and the mourner’s grief is stayed as they behold the -brightness which once more illuminates those lifeless -features.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Upon the infant, dedicated to God in the days when -he lies helplessly at the portal of life, on the maiden -and the youth, entering on a state of existence, either -supremely blessed or supremely cursed in its <span class='it'>eventuation</span>, -and on the dead old man, whose race so -long, and of mingled pleasure and hardship, is over -at last; on these the faithful Sunlight has pronounced -her blessing within the walls of the old church. But -now all the human beings have gone away, the -minister with the funeral train to the burial, and the -sexton has fastened the church-doors and gone too; -but still the Sunlight remains, and it seems as though -she were kneeling before the altar now, craving God’s -blessing on all those who have this day stood within -His courts, and before His altar, brought there by joy -or sorrow to rejoice or to weep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not, however, within the sanctity of walls alone -does the Sunlight make herself visible. Through byways, -and in the open street, where the stream of -life goes rushing on violently, does she tread, brightening -up by her presence dark and dismal corners, -and enlivening the gloomiest and dreariest places.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the intervening places between the high brick -dwellings and stores she stations herself; there, like -a priestess, she stands to pronounce a benediction -on all who pass by her. On the blind old beggar, led -by a little child, who pause a moment to rest in the -sunshiny place, for they have walked on wearily -amid a heartless crowd, that had but little feeling for -the poverty-stricken old man, whom Heaven deprived -of sight; and on the gaudily decked form of -the shameless woman, as a reproach and condemnation; -on the proud, hard man, whose haughty head -and iron heart care little for the Sunlight or for Sorrow, -whose honorable name has safely borne him -through the committal of sins and crimes, which, -had he been poor and friendless, would have long -ago secured for him a safe place among convicts and -outlaws! Little recks <span class='it'>he</span> of Sunlight. A blessing -so freely bestowed on all, as is her smile, is not what -he covets; so through shade and light he hastens, and -soon enough he will arrive at the bourne. What -bourne?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There go by the wandering minstrels, men from -Scotland with their bagpipes—Italians with hurdy-gurdy—girls -with tamborines, and boys with violins -<span class='pageno' title='241' id='Page_241'></span> -and banjoes—there are professors of almost all kinds -of instrumental music, and vocal too, a great many -of them there are, but sure, almost all of them, of -winning coppers from some who would bribe them -into a state of quietude, and from other some, harmony-loving -souls, who delight in the dulcet sounds -such minstrels ever awaken and give utterance to! -And Sunlight blesses <span class='it'>them</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And here comes an humble, tired-looking woman—a -school teacher she is, whose days are one continued -round of wearying, and most monotonous -action. You would scarcely err in your first guess -as to her vocation—it speaks forth in her “dress a -little faded,” but so very neat, but more loudly still -in that penetrating glance of her eye, and in the patient -expression of her features. Though she is evidently -hurried, for she has been proceeding at a most -rapid pace along the streets, you could tell she has -some appreciation of the glory of Sunlight, for how -she lingers whenever she comes near the places enlivened -by her presence! Her feet, too, press less -heavily the pavement, perhaps she feels as though -she were treading on sacred ground!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, there comes another, a little, frail, youthful -creature, with bright, black eyes, (which have obviously -a quick recognization power for “every -thing pretty,”) a person of quick and nervous movement, -a seamstress. She has not time often to pause -and take note of the beautiful. Her weeks have in -their long train of hours only twelve of daylight she -may call her own! She, too, steps slowly, almost -reverently, over the flags where the princess is stationed, -and with an irresistible sigh thinks of earlier -and happier days, when a merry country child she -rejoiced in her delightful freedom, though clad she -was then in most unfashionable garments, and almost -she regretted the day that sent her into the great, -selfish city to fashion dresses for the rich and gay. -Poor girl! before she has half passed over the shady -place which succeeds the glimpse of Sunlight, she -has forgotten the hope which for a moment found -refuge in her breast, wild as it was, that one day she -might indeed go into the country again, and find there -a welcome and a home; for must not Miss Seraphina’s -and Miss Victoria’s dresses be finished that very -night in time for the grand party; and the flounces -are not nearly trimmed, and numberless are the -“finishing touches” yet to be executed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Alas! before night comes again, when she will go -alone, and in the darkness, through the noisy street, -in her weariness and stupidity, (for continued labor, -you know very well, reader, will make the brightest -mind stupid and weak,) she will hurry to her bed, -forgetful of her bright dream of the morning, unmindful -of her prayers, in the haste to close her -weak and tired eyes. But in the morning, perhaps, -the Sunlight will give to the overworked girl another -gleam of hope, another blessing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now goes by an interesting, white-gloved -youth, fresh from “the bandbox,” as you perceive. -Let him pass on; for there is but little chance that -Sunlight will be recognized by <span class='it'>him</span>, and so <span class='it'>we</span> will -not waste our comments, for could he even see -where lies the brightness, I cannot say but the inevitable -eye-glass might be raised, and such a glance of -idiocy and impudence be directed toward the gentle -daughter of the mighty king, as would warrant her -in annihilating him at once with a powerful <span class='it'>sunstroke</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here comes another, a benevolent, but solemn-featured, -portly gentleman, who seems in musing -mood, for he goes slowly along with head bent down. -He is a judge, proceeding toward the scene of his -trying duties, feeling the responsibility which rests -upon him, and nerving himself to meet the solemn -and affecting scenes and circumstances which may -await him. Oh may it be that as he passes by those -small illuminated places, that a stronger voice than -he has ever heard before may find utterance in his -heart, charging him to remember that the highest -attributes of the Heavenly Judge are mercy and -love, and that only as he employs them in his decisions, -can he justly imitate his Divine prototype!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now there is another going by, whose disappointment -is legibly written on his face. Either of -two doleful things has happened to him. His prayers -have been unheard by his “lady-love,” and she -looks coldly upon him, or—scarcely less to be dreaded -climax—his first attempt at literature has met with -unqualified failure. Let him but bear in mind that -“faint heart never won fair lady,” or honor in the -“literary world;” let him take one intelligent look -at the sweet Sunlight, as so patiently she stands there -before him, and small will be the danger of his ultimate -defeat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But—but how fast the crowd increases—it is growing -late, and between the increasing crowd of fashionables, -and of people of all sorts and conditions, we -are really in danger of being soon unable to distinguish -who of all the host stop for the blessing of Sunlight, -and who unmindful pass by her. And indeed -it were an endless task to impose on one’s self the -attempt to speak, or even to think, of the myriads -who in their hours of sorrow, despondency, tribulation -or joy, have had occasion to be thankful for the -cheerful smile of glorious Sunlight!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her mission—ay, never was there one so blest—and -never was there so faithful a missionary! She -comes with a message of love for the whole world! -How perfectly she has learned that lesson taught her -by our own, as well as her Almighty Father! How -nobly has she obeyed his sublime precepts, how truly -is she the joy-diffuser of the human race!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now what remaineth to be said? But one -thing only.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a necessarily more contracted sphere of action -may there not from <span class='it'>our</span> faces, and <span class='it'>our</span> hearts, go -forth a beam of light that shall be <a id='power'></a>powerful to cheer -up a desponding spirit, or to encourage a drooping -heart, or to give comfort to a sorrowing soul, or to -increase the faith and courage of a lonely life?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cannot the sunshine of a human face, in the dark -forest of a sad heart, have power to make the old -trees bud, and the birds to sing, and the violets to -spring up and bloom, and the ice-bound streamlets to -go free? From many a love-lit eye, from many a -<span class='pageno' title='242' id='Page_242'></span> -brow from which tender hands have erased the -record of care, from many a rejoicing heart lightened -of its dread burden, there comes to me an answer, -“Yes—oh yes!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Blessed forever be the sweet Sister of Charity, -the angelic, untiring Missionary, the lovely princess—daughter -of the Sun!—and, also, blessed forever be -that human heart which doth not disdain to learn the -heavenly lesson Sunlight teaches, ay, twice blessed -of God, and of man!</p> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ther'></a>THERMOPYLÆ.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>’Twas night; the gleaming starlight fell</p> -<p class='line'>  On helmets flashing high;</p> -<p class='line'>The glancing spears and torrent swell</p> -<p class='line'>  Of armed men sweeping by.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>No clarion’s voice was on the breeze,</p> -<p class='line'>  No trumpet’s stormy blast;</p> -<p class='line'>The hollow moan of distant seas</p> -<p class='line'>  Was echoed as they past.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>With measured step and stealthy tread,</p> -<p class='line'>  In stern and proud array,</p> -<p class='line'>They sought the camp in silence dread</p> -<p class='line'>  Where the slumb’ring Persian lay.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Then long and loud the battle-shout</p> -<p class='line'>  Rung on the startled air,</p> -<p class='line'>There was fitful torch-light flashing out</p> -<p class='line'>  And sudden arming there.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>The shriek of death and wild despair,</p> -<p class='line'>  And hasting to and fro,</p> -<p class='line'>When like the lion from his lair</p> -<p class='line'>  The Spartan charged the foe.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Then hand to hand and spear to spear</p> -<p class='line'>  The hostile armies stood;</p> -<p class='line'>The tempest’s note rung loud and clear</p> -<p class='line'>  And shook the solitude.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>And ’mid the fearful tide of fight,</p> -<p class='line'>  Where thousands met to die,</p> -<p class='line'>The lances gleamed athwart the night</p> -<p class='line'>  Like lightning in the sky.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>On! on they swept their land to bless,</p> -<p class='line'>  And fast around their way</p> -<p class='line'>The Persians gathered numberless</p> -<p class='line'>  As leaves in summer’s day.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Morn dawned upon that battle-field,</p> -<p class='line'>  And shivered spear and lance,</p> -<p class='line'>And banner torn and broken shield</p> -<p class='line'>  Reflected every glance.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But where were they—those patriots bold,</p> -<p class='line'>  Of bright and fearless eye?</p> -<p class='line'>Each noble heart in death was cold,</p> -<p class='line'>  Each spirit in the sky.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Fair Greece! of glorious deeds the clime</p> -<p class='line'>  By dauntless valor wrought;</p> -<p class='line'>Of daring minds, and souls sublime,</p> -<p class='line'>  The pioneers of thought!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>No marvel that thy skies should boast</p> -<p class='line'>  A fairer, sunnier blue—</p> -<p class='line'>Departed day illumes the west</p> -<p class='line'>  With many a radiant hue.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lost'></a>LOST TREASURES.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY P. D. T.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>I am coming, I am coming, when this fitful dream is o’er,</p> -<p class='line'>To meet you, my beloved ones, on that immortal shore,</p> -<p class='line'>Where pain and parting are unknown, and where the ransomed blest</p> -<p class='line'>Shall welcome treasures left on earth, to Heaven’s eternal rest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I am with you, I am with you, in the visions of the night,</p> -<p class='line'>I feel each warm hand pressing mine, I meet each eye of light.</p> -<p class='line'>Oh these are precious seasons! they bring you back to me,</p> -<p class='line'>But morning dawns, and with it comes the sad reality.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I dare not trust my thoughts to dwell on blessings that were mine,</p> -<p class='line'>Or, “hoping against hope,” believe one ray of joy can shine</p> -<p class='line'>Across my path, so dreary now, that late was bright and gay,</p> -<p class='line'>But, meteor-like, hath left more dark the track which marked its way.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Yet I feel that thou art near me! my guardian angels thou,</p> -<p class='line'>Who fain would chase all sorrow and sadness from my brow.</p> -<p class='line'>For thou hadst strewn my pathway so thick with thornless flowers,</p> -<p class='line'>I quite forgot that <span class='it'>Death</span> could come to revel in our bowers.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But now, I’m oh so lonely! my “household gods” are gone,</p> -<p class='line'>And though my path’s a dreary one, I still must journey on.</p> -<p class='line'>Yet Faith steps forth and whispers—Time flies, look up and see,</p> -<p class='line'>For in his wake swift follows on a blessed eternity.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='243' id='Page_243'></span><h1><a id='bro'></a>THE BROTHER’S TEMPTATION.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY SYBIL SUTHERLAND.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_7'>CHAPTER I.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look sad to-night, Alice,” was the remark -of Mr. Colman as his young wife entered the sitting-room, -and took a seat beside him with a countenance -expressive of unusual dejection; “and where is -Maggie this evening that you have been obliged to -take upon yourself the duty of nursery-maid to our -little ones?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Maggie has gone upon an errand of mercy—to -watch over a sick and suffering fellow creature,” replied -Mrs. Colman. “It is a long story,” she added, -in answer to the look of inquiry which her husband -cast upon her, “but I will endeavor to relate it if you -will listen to it patiently. This morning, Harry, after -you had left home, I resolved to set forth in search -of a seamstress who was making some dresses for -our little girl. She had failed to bring them home at -the time appointed, and as I had never employed her -before, and knew nothing of her character, I felt -rather anxious concerning the safety of the materials -I had given her to work upon, and determined to go -to the dwelling which she had described as her residence -and learn the cause of her disappointing me. -The house was in a miserable street some distance -from here, and I hurried along till I came to it. It -was a wretched-looking dwelling, such as none but -the very poorest class would have chosen. The door -stood open, and several ragged little Irish children -were playing upon the steps. I inquired of them if -Mrs. Benson, the seamstress lived there? They did -not seem to recognize the name—but they told me -that a young woman who took in sewing hired the -back rooms of the third-story. Following their direction, -I ascended three flights of stairs and found -myself at the door of the apartment, where I knocked, -and a faint voice bidding me enter, I unclosed the -door and stood upon the threshold. What a strange -and unexpected sight now met my gaze! Upon the -floor, almost at my feet as I entered, lay a young and -very beautiful girl apparently bereft of all consciousness. -She looked so thin and pale that at first I -thought her dead, and starting back in horror I was -about to leave the place, when a feeble voice, the -same which told me to come in, besought me to stay. -Looking round to discover whence it proceeded, I -saw the emaciated form of a man reclining upon a -couch in a distant part of the room. Hastily I approached -him, for I felt it to be my duty to render -what aid I could. As I drew nearer to his bedside, I -read the tale of confirmed disease in that pallid face -and in the wild sunken eyes whose gaze met my -own. In a few words he informed me that the -maiden who lay there senseless was his daughter. -While busily engaged at her work about an hour -previously, she had fallen from her seat and remained -thus in a state of unconsciousness. He said that his -limbs being palsied he was unable to help her, and so -he had lain upon his couch agonized by the thought -that his child was dead, or that she might die for want -of proper assistance. And he now besought me to -endeavor to discover if there were any signs of life, -and if possible to restore her to her senses. The appeal -was not in vain. I turned from him to his inanimate -daughter, and raising that light and fragile -form in my arms, placed her upon a couch in a small -closet-like apartment adjoining the one I had first entered. -For a long time every means of restoration -were vainly tried—but at length my strenuous efforts -were rewarded, and the young girl once more unclosed -her eyes. But she evidently recognized nothing -about her—those dark and strangely beautiful -orbs glared wildly around, while a few broken, incoherent -sentences burst from her lips, and as she sunk -again upon the pillow the bright fever flushes rushed -to her cheek, and I knew that her brain was suffering. -Great was her parent’s joy that she once more -breathed—but my heart was full of sadness, for I -could not help feeling that her life was in jeopardy. -It was my wish to have a physician summoned, but -I knew not how this was to be done, for I dared not -leave my charge, and there was no one near to help -me. At this moment I heard footsteps in the hall, -and quickly opening the door, beheld a boy ascending -the stairs. The promise of a piece of silver easily -procured his assent to go for the nearest doctor, and -accordingly he set off, while re-entering the room I -resumed my station by the sick girl’s bedside. In a -few minutes the physician arrived and my suspicions -of the nature of the young girl’s disorder were confirmed, -for he pronounced it to be a fever of the -brain, and said that his patient would require constant -watching and careful nursing. The father listened -anxiously and attentively to the doctor’s words. -His countenance fell as he caught the last sentences, -though he said not a word. It was not till after -giving his prescription, the physician left, promising -to call early on the morrow, that he spoke what was -passing in his mind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘Julie must die!’ he said, bowing his head upon -his hands, while bitter, hopeless anguish was depicted -upon his face, ‘for I have no means of obtaining -for her the care she needs.’ It was all that passed -his lips, but it spoke volumes to my heart, and my -resolution was instantly taken. I told him that I -would not desert his child, that I would continue -with her part of the day, and when I was obliged to -leave that I would send some one to take my place. -Oh, Harry! if you could only have seen how grateful -that poor invalid looked! Most amply repaid was I -by that glance for whatever I had undertaken. I remained -<span class='pageno' title='244' id='Page_244'></span> -with the sick girl several hours longer, and -in the intervals when she slumbered, I had time to -observe the appearance of things around me. The -furniture was mean and scanty. There were but two -chairs in the room, and the carpet was worn almost -threadbare. Every thing betokened extreme poverty—but -neatness was plainly perceptible in the arrangements -of the apartment, and I felt from the appearance -of its occupants that they had seen more prosperous -days. A book lay upon a table close at hand, -I took it up, and discovered it to be a volume of -Bryant’s poems. On looking over the pages, I found -several of the most beautiful passages marked. Upon -one of the fly-leaves was <a id='write'></a>written, ‘To Julie—from -her father.’ The book was evidently the young girl’s -property. There was also a small portfolio of drawings -upon the table, which evinced signs of both -talent and cultivation. For an hour after the physician’s -departure the parent of Julie—for by her name -I may as well call her—showed little disposition to -converse. He seemed exhausted by the emotions of -the day—but I knew that though he said nothing, his -gaze was often upon me when he imagined that I did -not observe him. At last he roused himself to answer -some inquiries which I thought it necessary to -make. He told me that he was very poor, and that -for more than a year, during which his infirmity had -appeared and increased, his daughter had maintained -him by the proceeds of her needle. He said also that -two years previously he had resided at Baltimore as -one of its wealthiest merchants—but having failed -under circumstances that cast a cloud upon his character, -though he was in reality innocent of intentional -wrong, he had left the city of his birth and hastened -with Julie, his only child, to New York, where he -would be sure of never more meeting the scornful -gaze of those who had been his friends ere misfortune -overlook him. Here he hoped to procure employment—but -fate seemed against him. Shortly -after his arrival in this city, he was seized with a -dangerous illness which left him in his present helpless -condition, and his lovely and accomplished child -found herself very unexpectedly thrown upon her -own resources for her support and that of her invalid -parent. Bravely for many months had she borne the -burden, but continued anxiety concerning the means -of obtaining life’s necessaries had at last done its -work—and in the delirium of fever, the fair and noble -girl now tossed restlessly upon her bed, a mere wreck -of what she had once been.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This brief sketch of their history, as you may -imagine, dear Harry, interested me greatly. And -when, at its conclusion, the speaker again expressed -his fears for the future and his doubts as to the recovery -of his child, for whom he had no power to provide -necessary attendance, I again assured him that -I would watch over her until she became quite well, -and that after this I would endeavor to find some -more healthy and suitable employment for her than -that in which she had latterly been engaged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Toward the close of the afternoon, being desirous -of going home for awhile, I dispatched the boy whom -I have once before mentioned, for Maggie, that she -might supply my place as attendant upon the sick -Julie, until evening, when I proposed to bear her -company and resume my post at the bedside. She -came, and her sympathies were soon all enlisted by -the tale which I hurriedly repeated to her. But she -decidedly opposed my wish to return—reminded me -of my late indisposition, and declaring that I was not -strong enough to bear the fatigue of sitting up all -night, insisted upon being allowed to exercise her -skill as nurse without any other assistance. I -thanked her for her consideration, while I felt that -she was right. So I left her and proceeded home, -where, as you may suppose, I was welcomed most -joyfully by little Willie and his sister, who had mourned -incessantly over mamma’s protracted absence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And now, Harry, that I have finished my somewhat -lengthy narrative, tell me whether you approve -of what I have done and promised to do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly, dearest Alice,” replied Mr. Colman, -affectionately pressing the little hand that rested -within his own, “while you continue to follow, as -you have hitherto done, the dictates of your own -pure, loving heart, I can never do aught but applaud -you. The present objects of your benevolence, are -I am sure from the account, well worthy of whatever -you may do for them, and I would advise you to persevere -in your efforts for their welfare. But you -quite forgot to tell me, my dear, if you discovered in -your <span class='it'>protégé</span> the seamstress for whom you were -searching.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, indeed,” she replied, while her countenance -wore a look of vexation, “<span class='it'>my</span> seamstress was a very -different sort of a being from this beautiful Julie. Nor -do I think that I shall ever discover her, for just before -I returned home I made inquiries as to whether -a person answering her description lived in that -house, and was assured that no one of that name had -ever dwelt there. How foolish I was to trust those -dresses to an entire stranger.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And pray what may be the name of the family -whose history has interested you so deeply?” asked -Mr. Colman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The father’s name is Malcolm—Walter Malcolm, -as he informed me. With the daughter’s I believe -that I have already acquainted you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Walter Malcolm! Julie Malcolm! And you say -they are from Baltimore?” As he spoke Mr. Colman’s -cheek grew suddenly pale, and rising from his -seat he paced the apartment with a hasty and agitated -step.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what is the matter, Harry?” exclaimed his -wife in a tone of the deepest solicitude, as she sprung -to his side, “pray tell me what has moved you -thus?” But it was some moments ere he seemed -able to reply. At length with emotion he said—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Alice, what if I were to tell you that this man—this -Walter Malcolm is my brother—the brother who -in my early youth drove me away from his luxurious -home, an orphan and unprotected, to seek my -fortune in the wide, wide world?” Alice Colman -started and raised her eyes wonderingly to her husband’s -face, and after a brief silence he resumed with -a sternness unusual to him—</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='245' id='Page_245'></span> -“In that hour, Alice—in that hour of utter desolation, -when lonely and uncared for I left my brother’s -roof forever, a fierce, burning desire for revenge -took possession of my soul. In the first bitterness of -despair I called upon Heaven to avenge my wrongs. -I wished that Walter’s wealth might take to itself -wings—that one day he might come to me for bread; -and I resolved were this ever the case, to give him—a -stone! My desire has been fulfilled, and my proud -and unfeeling brother is now a beggar at my door!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He paused—while his wife shuddered and looked -appealingly up into his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Harry!” she exclaimed in a low, earnest tone, -“you surely do not mean that you will not forgive -the sorrow your brother’s conduct once caused you—that -you will now look exultingly upon his woes, and -turn a deaf ear to the wants of his sweet and suffering -child?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The reproving expression of the dear face now -anxiously upturned to his, at once recalled the husband -to a sense of error, and drawing the form of the -beloved one closer to his side, he said—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! how fervently should I thank Heaven who -has given to me such a monitor in the hour of temptation! -Pardon me, my Alice, if by giving way to -impulse I have wounded your sensitive spirit, and -that in the moment when passion held its sway, I -slighted the divine lesson of forgiveness, through -your influence first impressed upon my soul. Nay, -dearest, look not thus surprised, for it was really by -your means that the wish to quell the thirst for revenge -upon my brother, entered my heart; and if you -will listen a few seconds I can explain to you the -words that at present may well seem mysterious. -You will doubtless remember, Alice, that some -months before our marriage, I experienced a severe -fit of illness. One pleasant Sabbath evening shortly -after I was declared convalescent, I was reclining -upon a sofa in the sitting-room at your uncle’s residence. -My spirits were just then very much depressed—I -felt inwardly fretful and uneasy—and as -is not uncommon at such a time, many little circumstances -which before had been almost forgotten, rose -up in my mind, and woke anew in my bosom sensations -according to their nature, of pain, anxiety, or -indignation. Among other things came forcibly to -view the memory of the grievous wrong I had received -at the hands of him who should have been a -parent to me; and a feeling of the deepest hatred toward -my brother stole to my heart, together with a -hope that at some future time a chance might be -mine of returning him measure for measure of the -unkindness which he had so unsparingly dealt out to -me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At that instant, Alice, you re-entered the room -from which you had been a few minutes absent, and -at the request of your uncle, opened the family Bible -and began your usual Sabbath-evening duty of reading -a series of chapters from the holy book. There -was a passage in the first which you read that affected -me strangely—for it came as a reproof from Heaven -delivered to me through the medium of one of earth’s -angels. It was the following—‘Avenge not yourselves, -but rather give place unto wrath, for it is -written, vengeance is mine; I will repay saith the -Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; -if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou shalt -heap coals of fire on his head.’ The sentences awed -me, coming upon my ear as they did at a period -when my spirit needed the precious warning and rebuke -contained in them, and I breathed a silent -prayer to Heaven for strength to enable me to heed -it. The hour of my trial has arrived, and to-day -have I again felt the promptings of the tempter. You -cannot imagine with what force these old feelings -have been driven back upon my soul, but, Alice, your -voice has once more stilled the tempest, and I know -that I have passed the ordeal in safety.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Harry Colman ceased, and this time as his gaze -met that of his companion he saw that her eyes were -full of tears—but they were tears of grateful joy. -For a little while there was silence between them, -but at length Mr. Colman continued:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me recount to you, Alice, as briefly as possible, -a few circumstances connected with my early -history. I have never done so before, because the -effort was a painful one, and there was no exact necessity -for the repetition. As you are aware, I was -so unfortunate as to lose my father when I was a -mere infant, and my mother lived only till I had attained -my twelfth year. I was the child of her -second marriage, and she had one son by a previous -union who was many years my senior. At the period -of my mother’s death, my brother, Walter Malcolm, -had been married nearly five years, and was -now a widower and the father of one little girl, who -had just reached her third summer. Upon her death-bed -my parent left me beneath his care, desiring -Walter to attend to my wants and to be kind and -gentle to me when she was no more. As soon as the -funeral was over, my brother took me with him to -his own dwelling. I was now entirely dependent -upon him for maintenance. Walter Malcolm was -wealthy, for a large estate had descended to him from -his father, who had also left my mother a life-annuity, -which while she lived had supported us. At her -death I was of course unprovided for, for my own -father had possessed no worldly goods to bequeath -me. My new home seemed very different to me -from the hearth of my early, sunny childhood. I was -lonely and desolate—for between Walter and myself -brotherly love had never existed. Not that <span class='it'>I</span> would -have denied him his meed—but I was too proud to -award the gift that I was confident would never be -valued, for my memory could not boast a single instance -wherein he had evinced for me the slightest -regard. Nay, I even felt that I was an object of dislike -to him, though I knew not the cause. During -my mother’s life I had been greatly indulged, and it -was scarcely to be wondered at that I was frequently -very wayward. Upon such occasions, a word of -love had always been sufficient to control my passionate -nature; but when the sweet affectionate tones -that ever had power to calm me, were hushed in the -tomb, my faults were met by my new guardian with -harshness and contempt, and this never failed to -<span class='pageno' title='246' id='Page_246'></span> -rouse a spirit of continued opposition. There was -but one voice in my brother’s household that ever -spoke lovingly to me. It was that of his child—the -little Julie. From the first hour of my residence beneath -Walter’s roof, the little creature had conceived -a passionate attachment to me, preferring my presence -to that of her nurse or even her father. And, -as you may imagine, Alice, I did not slight her proffered -affection, and during the three years that we -dwelt together the little one was the sole sunbeam -upon my shadowed life-path. How gladly did I -greet her graceful bounding step! How dear was -the sound of her clear ringing laughter as I joined in -her sports!—and more precious still were the moments -when weary of play, she would steal to my -side, and twining her tiny arms about my neck, murmur -forth, in lisping accents, her sweet child-like -terms of endearment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had reached my fifteenth year when the incident -occurred that separated me from my brother. -An error was laid to my charge of which I was -really guiltless—and as I proudly refused to acknowledge -and repair the fault—Walter Malcolm turned -me from his dwelling, declaring that thenceforth and -forever he disowned me! Time was merely given -me to collect a few little articles that I could really -call my own—I was not allowed to bid farewell to -the child whom I yearned to look upon once more -before I went—and so, an outcast, I passed from that -stately mansion. Alice, I dare not linger over a description -of my sensations in that hour of anguish—for -it might perhaps arouse them again within my -soul. You know the rest of my history—the circumstance -of my adoption by your uncle who was -then visiting Baltimore, and first beheld me in a store -where I had entered in quest of employment. To him -I confided the facts relating to my former life; he pitied -and sympathized with me, and bore me with him to -his own home in this city, and from that day was in -every respect to the lonely orphan all that a kind -and generous parent could be to his only son.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_8'>CHAPTER II.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The morning succeeding the events last recorded, -at an early hour, Mrs. Colman was on her way to the -dwelling of the now destitute and infirm Walter -Malcolm. She had new motives for the advancement -of her charitable purposes, and her interest in -the sick girl had deepened since she knew her to be -the one whose infant steps her own husband had -guided. Hastening up the stairs she knocked at the -door, which was soon opened by Maggie, who looked -weary enough with the fatigue of the past night. -The young girl had been very restless, she said, and -she believed that the fever was rapidly progressing. -“But is she not a beautiful creature?” remarked -Maggie to her mistress, as she bent over the couch -and parted the rich curls from the fevered brow, -“ah, ma’am, I have nursed many a one before this -in sickness—but never a person whose appearance -so won upon me as hers has.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Alice Colman did not wonder at the observation—but -as she now glanced round the room she met the -gaze of Julie’s father, and her morning salutation to -him was full of gentleness and sympathy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Through the whole of that day Mrs. Colman maintained -her station in the chamber of sickness and poverty. -The physician came at the appointed hour, -and gave it as his opinion that Julie was growing -rapidly worse and that there were even doubts -whether in any case her life would be spared. Oh! -how the thought of her dying affected Mrs. Colman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let every thing be done that may be of benefit to -her,” she said anxiously to the doctor, “spare no expense -whatever if you think you can by any means -preserve her from the grasp of death. I will be answerable -for whatever remuneration you may require.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And not even content with his advice, she sent for -her own family physician determined to try all the -means she could for the preservation of the life of -her husband’s niece. She noticed that Walter Malcolm -looked very pale all day, but attributed it to -anxiety for his daughter. He seemed too languid to -converse—but once, as she handed him a glass of -water, he said—“Lady, Heaven will reward your -kindness to the suffering.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That evening when Alice Colman returned home, -her husband surprised her with the intelligence that -Walter Malcolm was aware of her relationship to -him. Before she went there in the morning, Mr. -Colman had advised her on no account to allow his -brother to suspect from whom he received the needful -aid, for he feared that Walter still entertained -against him the old feeling of hatred, and that it would -awaken unpleasant emotions in his heart if he knew -that the brother he had deserted was now destined to -be his chief reliance. But the caution to his wife -was unnecessary. Walter Malcolm had made inquiries -of Maggie concerning the family to whom he -was indebted, and from their minuteness Harry Colman -was confident that he had been recognised. -And that his brother had not forgotten his former -aversion to him he deemed evident from the fact that -he had said nothing of his discovery, during the day, -to Mrs. Colman. The latter however thought differently. -Julie’s father had spoken his thanks for that -draught of water too earnestly for her to join in her -husband’s belief, and she expressed her conviction -that he repented his past conduct, and that he merely -wanted courage to confess his penitence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But day after day passed on, and yet there was no -allusion to the subject on the part of Walter Malcolm. -Meanwhile his daughter had passed the crisis of the -fever and was declared convalescent. If the appearance -of Julie Malcolm in the hour of delirium had -attracted the fancy of Alice Colman and her nurse, -how much more were they drawn toward her when -her mind was freed from the chains that bound it—for -gentle and loving-hearted, her grateful spirit -manifested itself in various little touching ways toward -those who had watched over her during her -dangerous illness. When she grew stronger and was -able to enter into conversation, a perfect understanding -arose between Mrs. Colman and herself that they -were always to be friends. Alice Colman felt that -<span class='pageno' title='247' id='Page_247'></span> -she already loved Julie dearly—and the latter was -not slow in returning the affection of one whose -timely succor had saved her life. Still the young girl -suspected not that they were kindred by law as in -heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was soon settled that when Julie became entirely -recovered, she should undertake the duties of -governess to Mrs. Colman’s children, and this new -office was to afford her the means of support. A -more suitable residence had been sought by Alice -Colman for Julie and her father, and they were to remove -into it as soon as the former had gained sufficient -strength to bear the fatigue. Two more weeks -elapsed ere this last project was effected—and they -were then comfortably settled in their new abode.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And still there was no sign from Walter Malcolm -that he knew of his brother’s agency in the change -wrought in his affairs. He was now generally reserved -when Mrs. Colman was near, and his countenance -often wore a deep shade of gloom.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_9'>CHAPTER III.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The first day that Julie Malcolm felt equal to the -exertion was spent at the house of her new friend, -and then it was that for the first time since her childhood, -Harry Colman beheld his niece. So strongly -impressed upon his mind was the recollection of her -early fondness for him, and the soothing influence -which her winning, affectionate ways had possessed -over his spirit, that had he now obeyed the voice of -impulse he would fain have clasped Julie once more -to his heart; for though he now looked upon a beautiful -and graceful maiden of eighteen, he could -scarcely view her in any other light than as the darling -child whose caresses had so often comforted him -when greeted by every other voice with coldness. -Yet recalling the fact that their relationship could not -be breathed to her by himself, he was obliged to meet -her with the reserve of a perfect stranger. But all -formality between them soon vanished, and an hour -after their introduction found them conversing together -with the ease of old acquaintanceship. Nor -had Julie forgotten, in her own frank earnest manner, -to thank him again and again for the services his -family had rendered her father and herself—while her -soft dark eyes filled with tears as she spoke of the -debt which by gratitude only she could repay. -Harry Colman longed to tell her that <span class='it'>he</span> was the -debtor—and that by his wife’s attention to her, Julie -had but been rewarded for the love she had accorded -him when all other hearts were steeled against him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Colman saw with delight her husband’s increasing -predeliction for his niece—for by renewing -his former affection for Julie, she hoped to make the -young girl at some future day, the instrument of reconciliation -between the estranged brothers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day of Julie’s visit to the Colmans was a -happy one to all parties. Even little Effie Colman -and her brother Willie, though at first rather shy of -the lady, who, as they were told, was to initiate -them into the mysteries of the primer, had become -very fond of her, and were exceedingly loath to let -her go when the time appointed for her return home -arrived. Then, with her arms entwined about Julie’s -neck, little Effie besought her to say when she was -coming to them daily—and the following week was -accordingly named for the commencement of her -career as preceptress to the children.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak' id='h_10'>CHAPTER IV.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The morning agreed upon by Julie and Mrs. Colman -for the beginning of the former’s labors arrived, -but the young girl did not appear. Knowing well -her eagerness to enter upon her new duties—the eagerness -of a noble spirit to throw off the yoke of dependence—Alice -Colman might well feel anxious at -Julie’s non-fulfillment of her promise. For the first -time a thought crossed her mind that the suspicions -of her husband concerning his brother’s continued ill-feeling -toward him, might be just, and that Walter -Malcolm had resolved to oppose his daughter’s constant -association with them. But not long would she -allow herself to imagine thus. Perhaps Julie was ill -again—or some unforeseen circumstances had prevented -her coming. So Mrs. Colman determined to -wait till the following day, when if the object of her -solicitude was still absent, and she received no message -from her, she felt that she would then be more -capable of judging the matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not until near the close of the afternoon -that she was relieved of uncertainty upon the subject -by the reception of a note from Julie. The latter -stated that her father was very ill of a dangerous -fever, brought on, as the physician averred, by distress -of mind—and that it was doubtful whether in -his enfeebled condition he could live a week longer. -She added that only a few hours previously he had -informed her that their benefactress was the wife of -his brother, and also of the unfeeling treatment which -that brother had received from him. And Julie said -that from the hour when he had learned the circumstance -of their relationship, remorse and the knowledge -of his unworthiness to accept assistance from -the one whom he had injured, preyed upon her father’s -spirits, and at last caused the fever that threatened -soon to terminate his existence. His last -earthly wish now was to see his brother and ask forgiveness -of the past—and Julie concluded by begging -Mrs. Colman to use all her influence in order to -bring her uncle to her parent’s couch, if it were possible, -that very evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And that evening Mr. Colman, accompanied his -wife to the abode of Walter Malcolm. The meeting -between the brothers was a painful one. There -was mingled shame and penitential sorrow on the -part of the elder, while the countenance of the -younger was expressive of the deepest agitation as -he stood by the bedside of him who had cast so dark -a cloud upon his youth. Harry Colman had yielded -to the entreaties of Alice for this interview, while he -felt that it would have been wrong to have denied it—but -it was not until he looked upon Walter’s pallid -face, and heard that once stern and familiar voice -supplicating forgiveness, even with the humble -avowal that it was undeserved, that the lingering -spark of resentment was entirely extinguished within -<span class='pageno' title='248' id='Page_248'></span> -his breast—and when he breathed the much-desired -word of pardon they were truly heart-felt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And by returning good for evil he had indeed -“heaped coals of fire” upon the head of his brother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From your birth, Harry, you were the object of -my bitterest envy and hatred,” was the confession -of Walter Malcolm, “for upon you was freely lavished -the love of that mother whose affection I had -never possessed. She had been forced by her family -into a union with my father while her heart was another’s—and -when her husband died and she was -free to wed again, she married the one who had first -gained her regard. This was the key to your superior -claim upon our mother’s love. I will not now -blame her for the wrong of partiality, though it was -the basis of my demeanor toward yourself. I should -have had sufficient strength of mind to have resisted -its influence—but in this I was sadly deficient. To -the last hour of her life my mother’s chief thought -was of you. Yes, even in her dying moments her principal -anxiety was for <span class='it'>your</span> future happiness, while -there was but little reference to the welfare of her -eldest child. When she was no more, and you came -to dwell beneath my roof, I scrupled not openly to -show the sentiments which during our parent’s life-time -I was obliged to conceal. And I had now an -additional cause of dislike. I secretly accused you -of robbing me of the affection of my little girl, who, -as you will perhaps remember, always manifested a -decided preference for your society. I did not reflect -that my manner toward her was often cold and distant, -and widely different from your own; and with -such feelings of jealousy concerning you in my -heart, it was scarcely to be wondered that I seized -the first opportunity of ridding myself of your presence. -Though I knew you to be guiltless of the -fault for which I blamed you, I drove you from my -dwelling, refusing from that moment to own you as -a brother. Nor did I then experience the least remorse -for the act—and during the years that followed -I strove to forget that you had ever existed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was only within the past twelvemonth, when -surrounded by poverty, and the victim of an incurable -malady, that as I lay restlessly upon my bed, the -memory of my cruel conduct toward my innocent -brother has pressed heavily upon my mind. Often -have I busied my brain with vain conjectures respecting -your fate—whether you still lived—and if -you had escaped the whirlpool of crime and sin -within which the young and unadvised are but too -frequently engulfed. When I thought, as I sometimes -did, that you might have fallen—my sensations were -those of the most acute anguish, for I felt that the sin -would all be mine, and that at the judgment day I -should be called to the throne of God to hear him -pronounce the fearful penalty for the murder of a -brother’s soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At length, through the illness of my daughter, who -was very unexpectedly thrown upon the benevolence -of your wife, I obtained from your servant some information -concerning the family to whom I owed so -much, and discovered in the hand stretched forth to -aid my child, the wife of my discarded brother. It -would be vain to attempt a description of my emotions -as I learned this fact. Joy that you were not -forever lost, predominated—and then was added -shame, and a consciousness of my own unworthiness -to receive the benefits which henceforth you daily -conferred upon me, as I felt that you must have -recognized me—for I had given to your wife an account -of my previous life. Each successive service -lavished upon my family by your own, sunk like a -weight of lead upon my heart, while as I saw how -generously you repaid me for the evil I had committed -against you, I longed to cast myself at your feet -and supplicate forgiveness. But one thought deterred -me. It was the fear that you might deem me actuated -by interested motives—by the desire to leave my -daughter at my death under the care of her now -wealthy uncle. And so, for a time, I set aside the -yearning for a reconciliation. But it returned with -double force when this, which I know will be my -last illness, came upon me, and I felt that I could not -die happily without hearing from your lips a pardon -for my misdeed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The weeping Julie had stood by the bedside listening -attentively as her father spoke, one hand resting -affectionately in her uncle’s, while the other was -clasped in that of his wife. Though scarcely six -years old when Harry Colman was dismissed from -his brother’s house, she had ever retained a vivid recollection -of the event. She remembered how passionately -she had wept when told by her nurse that -she would probably never again behold her favorite, -and how indignant she had felt when they said that it -was owing to his own naughty conduct he had been -sent away—while her ignorance of the fact that her -uncle’s name was not the same as her father’s prevented -a recognition of him when they again met.</p> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Walter Malcolm survived a week after the scene -just described. Having made his peace with earthly -objects, his last hours were devoted to solemn preparations -for a future state, looking trustfully for the -mercy of Him who listens kindly to the prayer of the -penitent. His brother was constantly with him till -his eyes were forever closed in the death-slumber; -and from the day when the remains of her father -were borne to their last resting-place, the orphan -Julie found a home with her uncle, to whose pleasant -hearth she was lovingly welcomed, while by every -kind and sympathizing attention her relatives strove -to alleviate the sorrow for a parent’s loss, which at -first seemed almost insupportable.</p> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='249' id='Page_249'></span><h1><a id='relic'></a>THE UNSEPULCHRED RELICS.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. L. S. GOODWIN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Far out of the usual course of vessels crossing that ocean, they discovered an unknown island, covered with majestic -trees. The captain, with a portion of the crew, went on shore, and after traversing its entire circumference -without seeing a solitary representative of the animal kingdom, were about to return to their ship, when the skeleton -of a man was found upon the beach, and beside it lay a partially constructed boat.”</p> - -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Bleaching upon the sands that pave</p> -<p class='line'>  An unknown islet strand,</p> -<p class='line'>Where surges bear from mermaid cave</p> -<p class='line'>  The music of her band,</p> -<p class='line'>A clayey temple’s ruin lies—</p> -<p class='line'>  Of that grand pile a part</p> -<p class='line'>Whereon the Architect Divine</p> -<p class='line'>  Displayed His wondrous art;</p> -<p class='line'>Its tenant long since hath obeyed</p> -<p class='line'>  The summons to depart.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Mysterious, as dire, the doom</p> -<p class='line'>  That cast a death-scene where</p> -<p class='line'>Deep solitude converts to gloom</p> -<p class='line'>  What else were brightly fair:</p> -<p class='line'>Perchance wild waves that made a wreck</p> -<p class='line'>  Of some ill-fated bark,</p> -<p class='line'>Giving his valiant comrades all</p> -<p class='line'>  To feast the rav’nous shark,</p> -<p class='line'>Swept hither this lone mariner,</p> -<p class='line'>  For misery a mark.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Yon half-completed boat his lot</p> -<p class='line'>  In mournful tones doth tell;</p> -<p class='line'>With what assiduous zeal he wrought</p> -<p class='line'>  Upon that tiny cell,</p> -<p class='line'>Which promised o’er the billows broad</p> -<p class='line'>  The worn one to convey</p> -<p class='line'>Within compassion’s genial realm,</p> -<p class='line'>  Where woes find sweet allay;</p> -<p class='line'>’Twere better e’en the sea should whelm</p> -<p class='line'>  Than thus with want hold fray.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Believe you not that in his pain,</p> -<p class='line'>  His agony of soul,</p> -<p class='line'>Flew o’er the dark engirding main</p> -<p class='line'>  The thoughts which spurn control?</p> -<p class='line'>Abiding with the cherished ones</p> -<p class='line'>  Who blest a far-off home;</p> -<p class='line'>O how his sinking spirit yearned</p> -<p class='line'>  To view once more that dome;</p> -<p class='line'>To hear young voices gayly shout</p> -<p class='line'>  For joy that he had come.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>He mused how love with pining frame</p> -<p class='line'>  Her grief-fount would exhaust,</p> -<p class='line'>As on time’s laggard wing there came</p> -<p class='line'>  No tidings of the lost.</p> -<p class='line'>Ah! who may speak the bitter pangs</p> -<p class='line'>  That exile’s bosom knew.</p> -<p class='line'>As, day by day, and hour by hour,</p> -<p class='line'>  Faint, and yet fainter, grew</p> -<p class='line'>The hope that erst had nerved him on</p> -<p class='line'>  His labor to pursue.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>To ply their wonted task, at length,</p> -<p class='line'>  Refused his weary hands;</p> -<p class='line'>His form was stretched, bereft of strength.</p> -<p class='line'>  Upon the burning sands.</p> -<p class='line'>Haply his latest wish besought</p> -<p class='line'>  ’Mong kindred dead to lie;</p> -<p class='line'>But fate denied the boon, and death</p> -<p class='line'>  Seized him ’neath stranger sky;</p> -<p class='line'>While mercy drew a mystic veil</p> -<p class='line'>  ’Twixt him and friendship’s eye.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rem'></a>REMINISCENCES OF A READER.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY THE LATE WALTER HERRIES, ESQ.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Oh! the times will never be again</p> -<p class='line'>  As they were when we were young,</p> -<p class='line'>When Scott was writing “Waverlies,”</p> -<p class='line'>  And Moore and Byron sung;</p> -<p class='line'>When “Harolds,” “Giaours” and “Corsairs” came</p> -<p class='line'>  To charm us every year,</p> -<p class='line'>And “Loves” of “Angels” kissed Tom’s cup,</p> -<p class='line'>  While Wordsworth sipped small beer.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>When Campbell drank of Helicon,</p> -<p class='line'>  And didn’t <span class='it'>mix</span> his <span class='it'>liquor</span>;</p> -<p class='line'>When Wilson’s strong and steady light</p> -<p class='line'>  Had not begun to flicker;</p> -<p class='line'>When Southey, climbing piles of books,</p> -<p class='line'>  Mouthed “Curses of Kehama;”</p> -<p class='line'>And Coleridge, in his opium dreams,</p> -<p class='line'>  Strange oracles would stammer;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>When Rodgers sent his “Memory,”</p> -<p class='line'>  Thus hoping to delight all,</p> -<p class='line'>Before he learned his mission was</p> -<p class='line'>  To give “feeds” and invite all;</p> -<p class='line'>When James Montgomery’s “weak tea” strains</p> -<p class='line'>  Enchanted pious people,</p> -<p class='line'>Who didn’t mind poetic <span class='it'>haze</span>,</p> -<p class='line'>  If through it loomed a <span class='it'>steeple</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>When first reviewers teamed to show</p> -<p class='line'>  Their judgment without mercy;</p> -<p class='line'>When Blackwood was as young and lithe</p> -<p class='line'>  As now he’s old and pursy;</p> -<p class='line'>When Gifford, Jeffrey, and their clan,</p> -<p class='line'>  Could fix an author’s doom,</p> -<p class='line'>And Keats was taught how well they knew</p> -<p class='line'>  To kill <span class='it'>à coup de plume</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Few womenfolk were rushing then</p> -<p class='line'>  To the Parnassian mount,</p> -<p class='line'>And seldom was a teacup dipped</p> -<p class='line'>  In the Castalian fount;</p> -<p class='line'>Apollo kept no <span class='it'>pursuivant</span>,</p> -<p class='line'>  To cry out “<span class='it'>Place aux Dames</span>:”</p> -<p class='line'>In life’s round game they held <span style='font-size:smaller'>GOOD</span> <span class='it'>hands</span>,</p> -<p class='line'>  And didn’t strive for <span class='it'>palms</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Oh! the world will never be again</p> -<p class='line'>  What it was when we were young,</p> -<p class='line'>And shattered are the idols now</p> -<p class='line'>  To which our boyhood clung;</p> -<p class='line'>Gone are the <span class='it'>giants</span> of those days,</p> -<p class='line'>  For whom our wreaths we twined,</p> -<p class='line'>And <span class='it'>pigmies</span> now <span class='it'>kick up a dust</span></p> -<p class='line'>  To show the <span class='it'>march of mind</span>.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='250' id='Page_250'></span><h1><a id='gipsy'></a>THE GIPSY QUEEN.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY JOSEPH R. CHANDLER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:0.9em;'>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Power, consequence, importance, greatness, are -relative terms; they denote position or attainment, -comparable with some other. And hence a queen is -a queen at the head of a band of gipsies as much as -if she sat upon a throne, at the head of a nation -whose morning drum beats an eternal <span class='it'>reveille</span>. It -was <a id='there'></a>therefore, and for another cause yet to be told, -that I lifted my hat with particular deference when -I opened suddenly upon the head woman of a gipsy -tribe, as I was passing through a small piece of -woodland. Though, truth to say, I had been looking -at her for some time, an hour previous, as she was -giving some directions to one or two of her ragged -and dirty train. Now I had known that woman in -other circumstances. I had seen her in the family, -had heard her commended by the men for her graceful -movements, and berated by the women for exhibiting -those movements to the men, and being as -free with her tongue in presence of her female superiors -as she had been with her feet before her male -admirers. But neither the admiration of the men nor -the rebuke of the women produced any effect. All -that this woman received from a long sojourn with -the people of the village, was a little loss of the darkness -of the skin, and a pretty good understanding of -the wants and weaknesses of society. Everybody -knew that she had been left in exchange for a healthful -child—and some years before it had been discovered -that the healthful child would be worth nothing -to the gipsies, and the gipsy girl would, at the -first opportunity, return to her “brethren and kindred -according to the flesh.” And such was the skill -which she manifested on her return, such her ability -to direct, such her knowledge of the wants of the -villagers, and her power to take advantage of these -wants, that she became the head of the tribe with -which she was associated, and might have directed -numerous tribes, could they have been collected for -her guidance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not learn that there was much of a story -connected with the life of the queen, much indeed -that would interest the general reader. But she was -a woman—and her heart, a mystery to the uninitiated, -would, if exposed, have been worth a world’s perusal. -A woman’s heart—alas! how few are admitted -to loose the seals and open that secret volume! -How very few could understand the revelation if it -were made. I could not, I confess; and it is only -when a peculiar light is thrown upon here and there -a pace, that I can acquire even a partial knowledge -of what is manifested. The Queen of the Gipsies, -though elevated by right, and sustained by knowledge, -was no less a woman than a queen. She could and -did command male and female, old and young. She -was treated with all that marked distinction which, -even among her rude people, continues to be paid to -preeminence. And while she sought to do the best -for all, she received all this homage with that ease, -and that apparent absence of wonder, which denote -the right to distinction—this was a part of her queenly -character admirably sustained, natural, easy, dignified. -But the queen was a <span class='it'>woman</span>. I had heard her -give orders, which sent certain of the most active of -the young, male and female, to the other side of the -village, and then she gave employment to the old and -the young in the moving hamlet, and seeing the first -depart, and the last busy, she left the camp, and took -her way through the wood. I followed her and -traced her rapid steps to the burying-ground of the -town, which stood a distance from any dwelling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Seating myself out of view, I saw the queen walk -directly to a recently sodded grave, upon which she -looked down for a moment, and then clasping her -hands wildly above her head she threw herself with -a subdued cry upon the grave. I was too far from -her to distinguish all the words of her lament, but -they were wild and agonizing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a short time the woman arose, and said with -a distinct, clear voice, “With thee and for thee I -could have endured the mockery of their boasted -civilization, and suffered the ceremonies of their -tame creed. With thee and for thee I would have -foregone my native tribe and my hereditary rights. -So persuasive was thy affection that I could have -forgotten—or at least would not have boasted—that -I was of the glorious race that knows no manacles of -body or of mind, but what it chooses to impose. But -thou art gone, and with thee all my attraction to the -idle, wearisome life of thy race. I have returned to -my people, and I may lead them, and power and -activity may for a time weaken my agony. I need -no longer sacrifice my love for my race—but yet one -sacrifice I will make, and thy grave shall be the -altar. With thee my heart is buried. To thee do I -here swear an eternal fidelity—and year by year -will I lead my tribe hither, that I may pour out my -anguish upon the sod that rises above thee. And I -may hope that such devotion may lead the spirit that -made our race for future happiness as for present -freedom, to give thee back to me when I enter on -my world of changeless love and glorious recompense.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Kneeling again, the Gipsy Queen kissed the grave, -and gathered a few blades of grass and one or two -flowers, shook away the tears which she had let fall -upon them, and placing them in her bosom turned -and left the burying-place, and proceeded toward the -camp. I left my position by the other route, and -<span class='pageno' title='251' id='Page_251'></span> -passing through the wood I met her. Her face was -cleared from every cloud, no trace of a tear was evident; -she had prepared herself to meet her party in -a way to excite no inquiry.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i077.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:500px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>THE GIPSEY QUEEN.</span><br/> <br/>Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine</p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The little that I knew of the Gipsy Queen previous -to that day, and what was told me by one who had -lived in the village very long, I have set down. I -never saw her after I passed her in the woods. But -she made an impression on my mind that will not be -easily removed. And she bore in her heart motives -for action which few but herself and me will ever -know.</p> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lament'></a>THE BROTHER’S LAMENT.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>One moment more, beneath the old elm, Mary,</p> -<p class='line'>  Where last we parted in the flowing dell—</p> -<p class='line'>One moment more through twilight tints that vary,</p> -<p class='line'>  To gaze upon thy grave, and then, farewell!</p> -<p class='line'>Ere from this spot, and these loved scenes I sever,</p> -<p class='line'>  Where still thy lovely spirit seems to stray—</p> -<p class='line'>One look—to fix them on my soul forever—</p> -<p class='line'>          And then away!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Mary, I know my steps should now be shrinking</p> -<p class='line'>  From this sad spot—but on my mournful gaze</p> -<p class='line'>A scene floats up that sets my soul to thinking</p> -<p class='line'>  On all the dear delights of other days!</p> -<p class='line'>I’m gazing on the little foot-bridge yonder</p> -<p class='line'>  Thrown o’er the stream whose waters purl below,</p> -<p class='line'>Where I so oft have seen thee pause and ponder,</p> -<p class='line'>  Leaning thy white brow on thy hand of snow.</p> -<p class='line'>I’m standing on the spot where last we parted,</p> -<p class='line'>  Where, as I left thee in the fragrant dell,</p> -<p class='line'>I saw thee turn so oft—half broken-hearted—</p> -<p class='line'>  Waving thy hand in token of farewell.</p> -<p class='line'>I start to meet thy footstep light and airy—</p> -<p class='line'>  But—the cold grass waves o’er thy sweet young head;</p> -<p class='line'>Would that the shroud that wraps thy fair form, Mary,</p> -<p class='line'>          Wrapped mine instead!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>In vain my heart its bitter thoughts would parry,</p> -<p class='line'>  An adder’s grasp about its chords seem curled,</p> -<p class='line'>For you were all I ever thought of, Mary—</p> -<p class='line'>  Were all I doted on in this wide world!</p> -<p class='line'>And yet, I’d sigh not while thy fate I ponder,</p> -<p class='line'>  Did memory only bring thee to my eyes</p> -<p class='line'>Pale as thou sleepest in the church-yard yonder—</p> -<p class='line'>  Or as an angel dazzling from the skies!</p> -<p class='line'>I then at least could treasure each sweet token</p> -<p class='line'>  Of thy pure love—and in life’s mad’ning whirl</p> -<p class='line'>Steel my crushed heart—had not thine own been broken,</p> -<p class='line'>          Poor hapless girl!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But, Mary—Mary, when I think upon thee,</p> -<p class='line'>  As when I last beheld thee in thy pride—</p> -<p class='line'>And on the fate—oh God!—to which he won thee—</p> -<p class='line'>  I curse the hour that sent me from your side!</p> -<p class='line'>Oh why wert thou so richly, strangely gifted</p> -<p class='line'>  With mortal loveliness beyond compare?</p> -<p class='line'>The look of love beneath thy lashes lifted—</p> -<p class='line'>  Its fatal sweetness was to thee a snare!</p> -<p class='line'>Yet sleep, my sister—I will not upbraid thee—</p> -<p class='line'>  Thou wert too sweet—too innocently dear;</p> -<p class='line'>But he—the exulting demon who betrayed thee—</p> -<p class='line'>  He lives, he lives, and I am loitering here!</p> -<p class='line'>Even now some happier fair one’s chains may bind him</p> -<p class='line'>  In dalliance sweet—but I’ll avenge thee well!</p> -<p class='line'>Avenge thee?—Yes! a brother’s curse will find him,</p> -<p class='line'>  Though he should dive into the deeps of hell!</p> -<p class='line'>I swear it, sister—as thou art forgiven—</p> -<p class='line'>  By all our wrongs—by all our severed ties,</p> -<p class='line'>And by the blessedness of yon blue heaven,</p> -<p class='line'>  That gives its world of azure to mine eyes!</p> -<p class='line'>By all my love—by every sacred duty</p> -<p class='line'>  A brother owes—and by yon heaving sod,</p> -<p class='line'>Thine early grave—and by thy blighted beauty,</p> -<p class='line'>  Thou sweetest angel in the realms of God!</p> -<p class='line'>I swear it, by the bursting groans I smother,</p> -<p class='line'>  And call on Heaven and thee to nerve me now.</p> -<p class='line'>Mary, look down!—behold thy wretched brother,</p> -<p class='line'>          And bless the vow!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Sister, my soul its last farewell is taking,</p> -<p class='line'>  And I for this had thought it nerved to-night,</p> -<p class='line'>But every chord about my heart seems breaking,</p> -<p class='line'>  And blinding tears shut out the glimmering sight.</p> -<p class='line'>One look—one last long look to hill and meadow—</p> -<p class='line'>  To the old foot-bridge and the murmuring mill,</p> -<p class='line'>And to the church-yard sleeping in the shadow—</p> -<p class='line'>  Cease tears—and let these fond eyes look their fill!</p> -<p class='line'>One look—and now farewell ye scenes that vary</p> -<p class='line'>  Beneath the twilight shades that round me flow!</p> -<p class='line'>The charm that bound my wild heart here, was Mary—</p> -<p class='line'>          And she lies low!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div><h1><a id='mach'></a>SONNET TO MACHIAVELLI.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>FROM THE ITALIAN OF MAMIANI.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>Thou mighty one, whose winged words of yore</p> -<p class='line'>  Have spread on history’s page Italia’s wars,</p> -<p class='line'>  The sad mischances of intestine jars,</p> -<p class='line'>Like beacons blazing where the breakers roar.</p> -<p class='line'>Still canst thou glance out civil discords o’er?</p> -<p class='line'>  Some solace for us canst thou not divine?</p> -<p class='line'>Canst thou not oil on troubled waters pour,</p> -<p class='line'>  And soothe each petty tyrants ruthless mind?</p> -<p class='line'>Why else unveil the falsehood of our land,</p> -<p class='line'>  Which sees not why its tale thou deign’st to tell?</p> -<p class='line'>Why else didst thou with an unsparing hand</p> -<p class='line'>  Make bare the wounds whose angry scars will tell</p> -<p class='line'>The lasting shame of ignomy’s brand,</p> -<p class='line'>All petrified at history’s command?</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='252' id='Page_252'></span><h1><a id='dar'></a>THE DARSIES.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY EMMA C. EMBURY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Don Pedro.</span> I pray you, hold me not responsible for all these travelers’ tales. I am but the mouthpiece of others: -therefore, if I question the infallibility of the Pope, summon me not before the Inquisition; if I speak treason against -the king, clap me not up in the Tower; and if I utter heresy against the ladies, let me not be flayed alive by the nails -of enraged damsels. <span class='sc'>Old Play.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is no use in wasting words, Cousin -Charles; you never can persuade me that men love -more devotedly than women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can you be so unreasonable, Anne? I only -want to convince you that affection being an essential -part of woman’s nature, she cannot help loving -something or somebody all her life. The most she -does, even in her most intense devotion, is to <span class='it'>individualize</span> -the general sentiment which pervades her -character; but when men love, they actually take up -a new nature, and concentrate upon it all their -strength of mind and force of character.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have certainly a droll method of reasoning, -cousin; because women are <span class='it'>loving</span> creatures, therefore -they cannot love as well as the rougher sex.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are willful, Anne, and are determined not -to understand me. I mean that love is usually a -habitude with women, while with men, if it exists -at all, it is a positive, determinate thing—a graft, as -it were, upon their sturdy natures, and partaking -therefore of the strength of the stock which nourishes -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can you say so when men are always in -love, from the time they quit the nursery until they -are gray-headed, or <span class='it'>married</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Such attachments are mere fancies.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pray, how is one to distinguish between a fancy -and a fact in so delicate a matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is difficult to decide at first, because in their inceptive -state they are much alike; but time is the -true test. A fancy, a mere intoxication of the senses, -is scarce worth talking about; but in a genuine manly -love there is a depth, a fervor, a disinterestedness, a -devotion, such as woman can never feel—nay, which -they can rarely appreciate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heresy—rank heresy—Cousin Charles. I appeal -to Uncle Lorimer, who has heard our whole discussion, -if you do not deserve excommunication with -‘bell, book and candle,’ for holding such opinions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cousins were sitting together in the twilight, -and, as the shadows of evening deepened around -them, the light of the soft-coal fire in the polished -grate gave a beautifully cheerful look of home comfort -to the pleasant apartment. An old gentleman, -whose silver hair glittered in the fire-light, had been -sitting in the chimney-nook, and, thus appealed to by -his merry niece, he smiled good-humoredly as he -replied—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you submit the dispute to me, I must decide -against both.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because you are both too generalizing in your -remarks. In this work-a-day world of ours there is -a daily and hourly need of the tender, watchful, -kindly ministry of sympathy and affection; now the -peculiar attributes of woman’s nature are such as fit -her for this ministry; and whether it be a mere -habitude or not, it is the quality most needed by men -and most generally possessed by women.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Anne clapped her hands, and looked triumphantly -at her cousin; but Uncle Lorimer continued—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must agree with Charles, however, that when -men give out their whole strength to a genuine affection, -it is a more unselfish, magnanimous and higher -emotion than ever could dwell in the bosom of -woman. The same qualities which make her the -gentler half of man mingle their leaven in her affections. -For instance, a woman will make any sacrifice -for one whom she loves, she will bear all kinds -of privation and suffering for his sake, but earth -holds not the creature more pitilessly exacting of -affection than she is, or more jealously awake to -every whisper of distrust. Another weakness in her -character is vanity; and I must confess I never yet -found a woman so much in love with her lover, that -she would not curl her hair and dress in her best to -meet the eyes of other men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! uncle. You are worse than Charles.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But perhaps you will like to hear my whole -opinion, Anne. I have said that women possess -most of the quality which is required in daily life; -as I am not one of those who pretend to despise <span class='it'>good -habits</span> because they are not <span class='it'>heroic virtues</span>, I think -you ought to be satisfied with my decision.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you attribute so much nobler a quality to -men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is true, but let me comfort you by just -whispering in your ear, that not one man in a thousand -is capable of such an affection. True sentiment -is the rarest thing upon earth. To use the -language of your favorite poet—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Accident, blind contact, and the strong necessity of loving,</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>often bring together hearts which habit afterward -keeps united. Few, very few, create an ideal in -their youth and see it substantialize into a reality -as life goes on. Still fewer of those men who -are capable of real love ever bestow its treasures -upon one who can appreciate them. I think I have -never known a single instance of such an attachment -being reciprocated and rewarded.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you ever know more than one man who possessed -this faculty of loving, uncle?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='253' id='Page_253'></span> -“In the course of my long life I have known <span class='it'>three</span>; -and if you choose I will tell you the history of one -of these, to prove my theory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Among my earliest school friends and playmates -were Edgar and Herbert Darsie. They were twin-brothers, -the only children of a widow, whom I remember -as a tall, pale lady in close mourning, which -she never laid aside till the day of her death. There -was little of that resemblance between the twins -which generally makes the pleasant puzzle of mothers -and nurses in similar cases; for, though alike -in feature and height, and even in their peculiarity -of gait and manner, yet Edgar had the fair complexion, -blue eyes, and light silken hair of his mother; -while Herbert’s olive complexion, dark eyes, -and curling black locks betrayed the French blood -which he derived from his father. They were cheerful, -happy-tempered boys, and possessed a certain -natural sweetness of manner, which made them universal -favorites with old and young. Their mother -lived in the retired but handsome style which, in -those days, was considered the proper mode of -showing respect for the memory of a husband. She -kept up the establishment exactly as it had been -during Mr. Darsie’s life, and seemed to find her only -pleasure in doing precisely as he would have wished. -She was apparently in the enjoyment of a handsome -income, kept her carriage, and had a number of servants, -while the house and grounds exhibited taste -as well as no stint of expense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The boys were about twelve years of age, when -an accident happened to Herbert, which, though apparently -slight at first, finally led to the most disastrous -consequences. While skating, he fell and received -some injury, which, after months of suffering, finally -developed itself in an incurable disease of the spine, -entailing upon him a life-time of pain, and branding -him with frightful deformity. The tall, lithe, graceful -boy, whose step had been as light and free as the -leap of the greyhound, was now a dwarfed and distorted -cripple. As soon as he was able to leave his -sick-room, Mrs. Darsie placed Edgar at boarding-school, -and sailed for Europe, with the intention of -giving Herbert the benefit of all the modern discoveries -in medicine. She designed to be absent a year, -but, led on by fallacious hopes, she traveled farther, -and remained much longer than she had anticipated. -Three years elapsed before her return, and to all appearance -Herbert had derived little benefit from the -various experiments to which he had been subjected. -He was still dependent on his crutch, and his gnarled -and stunted figure presented a pitiable contrast to the -tall and well-knit form of his brother. But his health -was somewhat improved; his paroxysms of pain -were less frequent, and he could now enjoy weeks -of comparative ease and comfort.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The brothers had early been remarkable for their -affection for each other, and their unbroken concord, -but their long separation had not been without its -effect upon them. Edgar was gay, active, volatile, -and not destitute of a leaven of selfishness; while -Herbert had become grave, quiet, gentle in manner, -and most thoughtful and considerate for others. To -him suffering had been a teacher of all good things, -and the misfortune of being cut off from fellowship -with the world had taught him to find resources -within himself. He could not and did not expect -Edgar to sympathize in all his tastes, for he was -conscious that their paths must henceforth be divided -ones. He schooled himself to overcome the pang -which this reflection gave to his sensitive spirit, and -tried to find in his brother’s enjoyments of outer life, -a pleasure which he could only receive from the -reflection of another’s joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Soon after their return from Europe, Mrs. Darsie -received into her family the orphan child of a poor -clergyman, partly from charity, partly with a view -to furnish a companion and attendant for Herbert. -Jessie Graham was a pale, delicate-looking child, -about twelve years old, when she took up her abode -with her benefactress. Her thin and almost transparent -cheek, her bloodless lips, and large gray, -timid-looking eyes, spoke of fragile health, and of a -certain shyness of character which might be the result -of early anxieties, or perhaps denoted feebleness -of mind and indecision. But she was a sweet-tempered, -gentle little girl, and her compassion for -Herbert’s melancholy condition soon dissipated her -shyness toward him, though to every one else, even -to Mrs. Darsie, she was as timid as a startled fawn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To divert his lonely hours Herbert undertook her -instruction. He was but a boy of fifteen, but sorrow -had given him the stability of manhood; and never -did a more discreet, tender, and watchful Mentor -attempt the training of a female mind. Jessie was -docile and intelligent, quickly acquiring every thing -which called forth the perceptive faculties, but utterly -incapable of abstract reasoning or profound reflection. -Her mind possessed a certain activity, and a kind of -feminine patience that enabled her to do full credit -to her teacher, without ever attaining to his high -reach of thought. To cultivate her mental powers, -to impart to her a portion of his accomplishments, -and to train her moral sense, now became Herbert’s -chief occupation. That such employment of heart -and mind saved him from bitterness and misanthropy -there can be no doubt; but whether he did not pay -dearly for his exemption we shall see in the sequel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Time passed on without making any great change -in the affairs of the Darsies. Edgar went through -college rather because it was necessary to a gentlemanly -education than from any love for study, and, -immediately after graduating, he set off on the tour -of Europe. In the meantime Herbert continued to -lead his usual quiet life, driving out in his low pony-carriage -every day, teaching Jessie all she would -learn, and surrounding himself with pictures of his -own painting in the intervals of his severer studies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was on the anniversary of their birth—the day -they attained their twenty-first year—that the brothers -again met upon their own hearth-stone. Mrs. Darsie’s -health had begun to fail, and Edgar, at Herbert’s -suggestion, had unwillingly torn himself from the -enjoyments of Parisian life to return to his quiet -home. He found his mother sadly changed, and -evidently suffering from the insidious disease which -<span class='pageno' title='254' id='Page_254'></span> -so slowly saps the foundations of health and life. -Herbert, like all deformed persons, had early lost the -freshness of youth, and he was not surprised, therefore, -to find him looking at least ten years older than -himself, but he was astonished at the intellectual -beauty which seemed to radiate from his noble countenance. -To the shapeless form of a stunted tree he -united the head of a demi-god. The beauty of his -classical features, the splendor of his deep, dark eyes, -and rich glossy hair curling in heavy masses round -his temples, gave him the appearance of a magnificently -sculptured head joined on to some distorted -torso.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But if Edgar was startled at the change in his -mother and brother, how was he amazed and bewildered -when he saw Jesse Graham! The pale, -puny, frightened-looking little girl had expanded into -one of the very loveliest of women. At eighteen -Jessie had all that delicate yet fresh beauty which a -painter would select as his model for a youthful -Hebe. “A rose crushed upon ivory” was not too -extravagant a simile for her cheek; her lips were -like the berry of the mountain-ash; and her eyes so -soft, so tender, with just enough of their former shyness -to make them always seem appealing in their -expression, were like nothing else on earth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are extravagant, Uncle Lorimer; pray how -did you avoid falling in love with such a creature?” -asked Anne, saucily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the best of all preventives—<span class='it'>pre-occupation</span>. -But my story has to do with others, not with me. -Soon after Edgar’s return, his mother took an opportunity -to inform him of her plans with regard to -Jessie. She had watched the progress of Herbert’s -attachment to his young pupil, and she believed it to -be fully reciprocated by the docile girl. She had, -therefore, as she thought, fully provided for Herbert’s -future happiness; and, lest Edgar should be attracted -by Jessie’s loveliness, she hastened to tell him that in -the beautiful orphan he beheld his brother’s future -wife. Mrs. Darsie was a weak woman, though -kind-hearted and affectionate. She proceeded to -inform Edgar how the idea first came into her head—how -she had told Herbert of it—how she had been at -first shocked at the thought of sacrificing Jessie’s -youthful loveliness to such a union—how she discovered -his secret love even from his heroic self-denial—how -she had finally succeeded in persuading -him that Jessie really loved him better than any one -in the world—and how he had at last consented to -entertain the hope and belief that Jessie might become -his wife without repugnance. To Edgar’s -very natural question, whether Jessie was really -willing to marry Herbert, his mother replied that as -yet Jessie knew nothing of their plans, Herbert -having forbidden her to use her influence in the -matter, being determined that if he won Jessie, it -should be through her own free and <a id='bias'></a>unbiased will.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whether it arose from that perverseness in human -nature, which teaches men to value a thing just in -proportion to its difficulty of attainment, or whether -Jessie’s loveliness was irresistible to a man of Edgar’s -temperament, I cannot determine; but certain it is, -that from that time he looked upon her with far different -eyes than he had at first regarded her. Edgar -was precisely the kind of man who is always successful -with women. His talents and accomplishments -were all of the most superficial kind, but he -danced well, sung beautifully, played the guitar -gracefully, and withal was exceedingly handsome. -His voice was perfect music, and when he bent down -in a half-caressing manner over a lady’s chair, flinging -back his bright, silken hair, and gazing in her -face with eyes full of dangerous softness, while his -rich voice took the sweetest tone of deference and -heart-felt emotion, it was next to impossible for any -woman to resist his fascinations.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was his character a perfectly natural one, uncle, -or was this exquisite manner the result of consummate -art?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was natural to him to wish to please, and he -aided his natural attractions by a certain devotedness -of manner, which made each individual to whom he -addressed himself <span class='it'>appropriate</span> his tenderness as her -own right. Jessie had lived in such close seclusion -that she knew nothing of the world or its ways. It -is probable that had Herbert asked her to become his -wife before the return of Edgar, she would have -easily consented, for she certainly loved him very -dearly, and long habit of associating with him had -accustomed her to his deformity. To her he was not -the shapeless dwarf, whose crippled limbs scarce -bore the weight of his crooked body. He had been -her ideal of excellence—the friend, the Mentor who -had made her orphaned life a blessing, and she could -imagine no stronger, deeper affection than that which -he had long since inspired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But after Edgar had been at home a few months, -she was conscious of a great change in her feelings. -She loved Herbert as well as ever, but she had -learned the existence of another kind of affection. -Edgar’s sweet words and honied flatteries were unlike -any thing she had ever heard before, and unconscious -of any disloyalty to Herbert, she gave herself up to -the enjoyment of this new sensation of happiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Herbert was tried almost beyond his strength, for -it was when his mother lay on what was soon to be -her death-bed that he first suspected the fatal truth -respecting his brother and Jessie. A lingering illness, -protracted through many weeks (during which time -Herbert was his mother’s constant companion, while -Edgar enjoyed the opportunity of unrestrained companionship -with Jessie,) finally terminated in Mrs. -Darsie’s death; and, as Herbert closed her eyes, he -could not but feel that sinking of the heart which told -him that he was now alone upon earth. Immediately -after his mother’s funeral he was taken alarmingly -ill, and for several days his life was considered in -imminent danger. It was not until his recovery that -he again saw Jessie Graham, who, in compliance -with the world’s notions of decorum, had left the -home of her childhood on the decease of her benefactress. -She had found her temporary abode in the -family of a friend in the neighborhood, and Herbert’s -sick-bed had known no other attendance than that of -the housekeeper and servants. In his first interview -<span class='pageno' title='255' id='Page_255'></span> -with Jessie after his convalescence, he drew from -her a confession, or rather an admission of her love -for Edgar. The manner in which she confided this -to him—the frank, sisterly feeling which seemed to -animate her, stung him to the heart. But he possessed -great self-command, and Jessie never suspected the -actual state of <span class='it'>his</span> feelings while she confided to him -her own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As soon as practicable after Herbert’s recovery, -his mother’s will was opened, and then arose a new -subject of wonder and dissatisfaction. No one but -Mrs. Darsie and her lawyer had known that she had -been merely in the enjoyment of a life interest in her -fortune; but it was now ascertained that her husband’s -estate had been very trifling, and that her -large income was the product of a handsome fortune -bequeathed to Herbert by an old uncle, in consideration -of his physical misfortunes. The yearly product -was given to Mrs. Darsie during her life, but at -her death the whole reverted to Herbert. His father’s -property, amounting only to a few thousand dollars, -was bequeathed solely to Edgar, and a legacy of five -hundred dollars, (to purchase her wedding-dress, as -the will stated,) marked the testator’s wishes regarding -her protégé, Jesse Graham. Every body was -surprised at this development, but no one more so -than the brothers. Why their mother had left them -in such close ignorance of their affairs, it is impossible -to say, but they certainly had no suspicion of -the facts until they were thus legally made known.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One of the first wishes of Herbert’s heart was to -see Jessie placed in her proper position, and he therefore -nerved himself to speak to Edgar on the subject. -What was his surprise, therefore, when his brother -treated the whole thing as a boyish affair, and avowed -his determination to spend his pittance (as he termed -it) abroad, and then to repair his fortunes by a wealthy -marriage! If ever the gentle spirit of Herbert entertained -a feeling of abhorrence for any living creature, -it was at that moment. His own hopes had been -ruthlessly blighted, and Jessie’s heart estranged from -him, merely to gratify a <span class='it'>boyish fancy</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What he suffered, and what he felt, however, it is -not for me to attempt describing. He had garnered -up all his treasures of affection in Jessie and his -brother. Now Jessie was lost to him, and Edgar -was a villain. How he, with his delicate sensibility, -his high sense of honor, and his stern principles of -duty, must have suffered, I leave you to imagine. -But his love for Jessie conquered all other feelings. -He knew that her happiness depended on her union -with Edgar, for she was precisely that kind of -character, which, though infirm of purpose in the -outset, yet have a certain tenacity of feeling when -once a decision has been made for them. He revolved -many schemes in his mind before he could form a -practicable one, and at last he suffered his frank and -candid nature to lead him with its usual directness -to his object. He asked Edgar to be more explicit in -his confidences, and when Edgar declared that had -he been the heir of wealth he would gladly make -Jessie his wife, but that nothing would ever induce -him to tie himself down to a life of privation and -poverty, Herbert’s decision was at once made. He -proposed dividing his income with Edgar, on condition -that his brother should marry Jessie, and reside -in the home of their childhood, while he himself -should travel into distant lands. But Edgar, with -the quick-sightedness of selfishness, saw how deeply -Herbert’s soul was interested in the matter. Pretending -a jealousy of his brother’s influence over -Jessie—a jealousy of which he declared himself -ashamed, yet which he could not subdue—he said -that if he had the means he would marry Jessie, and -take her far from all her early associations, but that -he would never let her live in Herbert’s house, or in -a place where she might at any time be subject to -his visits.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pained as he was by this appearance of distrust, -Herbert’s conscience accused him of cherishing a -wicked love for one who was about to become his -brother’s wife, and he therefore submitted meekly to -this new trial. What terms were finally decided upon -could only be known at that time to the two brothers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Six months after Mrs. Darsie’s death Edgar was -united to Jessie Graham, in the little village church, -and immediately after the ceremony, the wedding-party -left for New York, from whence they sailed a -few days afterward for Havre.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Herbert dismissed the greater part of the servants, -shut up all except one wing of the large house, sold -off the carriage and horses, (reserving only the little -pony-carriage, without which he would have been -deprived of all means of locomotion,) and restricted -his expenses within such narrow limits, that people -began to consider him mean and miserly. He withdrew -entirely from society, and lived more utterly -alone than ever. His books, his pictures, his music, -were now his only companions. Yet he did not forget -that earth held those to whom even he might -minister. The door of the poorest cottages often -opened to admit the distorted form of the benefactor -and friend, but the sunlight on the rich man’s threshold -was never darkened by his shapeless shadow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Edgar Darsie went to Paris with his beautiful wife, -and there he lived in luxury and splendor, surrounded -by every thing that could minister to his love of -pleasure. Only himself and one other, the lawyer -who had drawn up the papers, knew whence his -wealth was derived. Even Jessie never suspected -that Herbert was living with the closest economy in -order that the poor should not suffer from the lavish -generosity which had induced him to secure to his -brother more than three-fourths of his whole income -as a bribe to insure her happiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ten years passed away, dragging their weary -length with the lonely and suffering Herbert, winging -their way on golden pinions to Edgar, weaving their -mingled web of dark and bright to the womanly heart -of Jessie. She had witnessed the changes of a fickle -nature in her husband—she had learned to endure -indifference, and to meet with fitful affection from -him—she had borne children, and laid them sorrowing -in the bosom of mother earth—she had drunk of -the cup of pleasure and found bitterness in its dregs; -and now she stood a weeping mourner beside the -<span class='pageno' title='256' id='Page_256'></span> -dying bed of that faithless but still beloved husband. -Edgar Darsie had inherited his mother’s disease, -together with her beauty. His excesses had hastened -the period of its development, and ten years after his -marriage he was withering like grass before the -hunter’s fire, beneath the touch of consumption. Day -after day he faded—his stately form became bowed, -his bright face changed, his silken locks fell away -from his hollow temples. Health was gone, and -beauty soon departed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With the approach of death came old memories -thronging about his heart, and filling his sick chamber -with fantasies and spectres of long by-gone days. -“Take me home! take me home!” was the bitter -cry. But his “<span class='it'>home-wo</span>” came too late. Never -again would he leave his bed until he was carried -to the house appointed for all living. At the first -tidings of his illness Herbert had sailed for Havre, -and traveled with all speed to Paris; but when he -arrived there his heart failed him. He remembered -Edgar’s avowed jealousy of him, and the wild, fierce -joy which thrilled his heart when he found himself -once more near to Jessie, taught him that he was not -entirely guiltless toward his brother. He accordingly -took lodgings in the same hotel, that he might -be near Edgar, in case he should wish to see him, -well knowing that the mode of life in Paris secured -him the most perfect privacy. He made known his -present abode to a certain business-agent, through -whose hands letters had usually been sent to him -from Paris, and thus he received from Jessie’s hand -constant tidings of his brother’s condition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But this state of things could not last long. His -impatience to be with Edgar led him to seize upon -the first faint intimation of a wish to see him, and he -soon found himself welcomed with tears of joy by -Jessie while Edgar thanked him with his eyes—those -tender eyes—for his thoughtful kindness in coming -without waiting for a summons. During three months -Herbert shared with Jessie her care and watchfulness -over the invalid. All the lovable qualities of Edgar’s -nature were brought out by his sickness, and Herbert -could not help feeling the full force of those -fascinations which had won for him the love of every -one. Weakened in mind as well as in body by his -disease, he was like a lovely and gentle child, so -docile, so affectionate, so helpless, so tender, and so -altogether lovely did he appear, as the dark wing of -death flung its shadow broader and deeper above his -couch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He died with penitence for past misdeeds deep-rooted -in his heart, and prayer for pardon lingering -on his lips. He died clasping his brother’s hand in -his, and the last act of his life was a vain attempt to -unite Jessie’s hand in the same grasp. There was -no time for the indulgence of selfish feeling at such -a moment. The presence of death had hushed the -whispers of earthly passion, and the grief of both the -brother and the widow was the genuine tribute of -affection to the departed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As soon as Edgar’s affairs could be arranged, the -widow, with her only surviving child, returned to -America under the protection of Herbert. Ignorant as -a child about pecuniary affairs, Jessie left every thing -to Herbert, and consequently never knew at what -sacrifice he rescued Edgar’s good name from obloquy, -and paid his enormous debts. Nor did she ever know -that the money which had supported their extravagant -expenditure in Paris, was the free gift of Herbert. -But daily and hourly did she experience Herbert’s -considerate kindness. Fearing to awaken her suspicions -relative to his agency in her marriage, he -determined to continue to her an allowance similar -to that which he had bestowed upon his brother. -But to do this required new retrenchments, and the -sacrifice of a fine landed property; for Edgar’s lavish -prodigality had cost him so large a portion of his -fortune that it now needed the most careful and -judicious management.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If Herbert hoped to marry his brother’s widow, he -at least determined to leave her free to choose for -herself. Jessie found herself pleasantly domiciled in -a new home, with a handsome provision for herself -and child, and surrounded by all the appliances of -American comfort before she had yet recovered from -the dull torpor of her grief. For fifteen years Herbert -had lived but for her. During the five years preceding -her marriage his whole soul had been devoted -to her; and when afterward he tried to banish her -image, he found though he might dethrone the idol, -the sentiment of loyal love, like a subtile perfume, -had diffused itself through his whole being. Was it -strange, then, if he should once more dream that his -love and faith might do more than remove mountains—that -his devotion might veil the unsightliness of his -person—that he might yet be beloved and <a id='reward'></a>rewarded?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now tell me, Annie, how do you think my story -is going to end?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the marriage of Jessie to the devoted Herbert,” -replied Annie. “It is not in the nature of woman to -be insensible to such devotion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Remember that Jessie knew nothing of his -pecuniary sacrifices, had no suspicion of his agency -in bringing about her marriage; did not dream of his -self-denying, self-forgetting love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But no woman could doubt the true meaning of -all his devotedness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He had never flattered her with gentle words; -never wooed her in courtly phrase; never played the -lover in the most approved fashion. He had been -the adviser, the Mentor, the steady friend; love had -been the pervading and animating soul of all he -thought and all he did, but his very magnanimity had -been as a cloak to conceal his affections. Do you -think a woman like Jessie—an ordinary woman, -lovely and gentle, but withal having no perception -of that inner life which so few can penetrate—do you -think she could see through this magnanimous reserve, -and detect the hidden love?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Surely, surely!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Recollect that she had early learned to pity him -for his personal defects, and though ‘pity’ may be -‘akin to love’ in our sex, yet no woman ever loves -a man she must look down upon with compassion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But his nobler qualities must have commanded -her respect.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='257' id='Page_257'></span> -“Suppose they were so far above her perceptions -as to inspire her with <span class='it'>awe</span> instead of respect? A -woman never loves the man she <span class='it'>pities</span>, nor will she -love the man whose superiority she <span class='it'>fears</span>. Jessie -compassionated Herbert’s bodily weaknesses, and -she had a vague terror of his stern, uncompromising -ideas of right and wrong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nevertheless, I am sure she married Herbert, -uncle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are mistaken, Annie. Herbert continued -his devotion for years; he learned to love her child -as if it were his own, and gave proofs of disinterestedness -and tenderness such as no woman could misinterpret; -but he never offered her his hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because he <span class='it'>knew</span> it would be rejected, and he -preferred being a life-long friend, to occupying the -position of an unsuccessful suitor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I suppose she never married again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are wrong again, Annie. At forty years of -age, when her beauty was faded, and her character -had deteriorated amid the follies of society, she -married a man some ten years her junior, who, -tempted by the income which <span class='it'>Herbert</span> had bestowed -upon her, flattered her into the belief that she had -inspired him with the most passionate love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And her child?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was adopted by Herbert Darsie, and at his death -inherited his estate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor, poor Herbert!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He suffered the penalty which all must pay who -give to earth the high and holy sentiment which is -only meant to make us companion with the angels -in heaven. Not one in a thousand can love thus, and -that one always finds that in the world’s vast desert, -he has expended his strength in vain—‘hewn out -broken cisterns which can hold no water.’”</p> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div><h1><a id='mask'></a>THE UNMASKED.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY S. ANNA LEWIS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>The struggle is over—my pulses once more</p> -<p class='line'>Leap free as the waves on the surf-beaten shore;</p> -<p class='line'>And my spirit looks up to that world of all bliss,</p> -<p class='line'>And heaves not a sigh for the faithless in this.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>’Twas in Sorrow’s bleak night, when the sky was all dark,</p> -<p class='line'>And the tempest shrieked loud round my storm-beaten bark,</p> -<p class='line'>That arose, ’mid the darkness, thy radiant form,</p> -<p class='line'>Like the rainbow illuming the brow of the storm.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>An angel thou seemedst, that had come to the earth,</p> -<p class='line'>To guide me—to nourish my heart in its dearth;</p> -<p class='line'>And blindly, as Paynim kneels down to his god,</p> -<p class='line'>I have loved thee—have worshiped the earth thou hast trod.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But this waste of affection—this prodigal part—</p> -<p class='line'>Is over—the mask has been torn from thy heart—</p> -<p class='line'>And back with affright and amazement I shrink—</p> -<p class='line'>At a fount so unholy my soul cannot drink.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i095.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0004' style='width:600px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>Mormon Temple, Nauvoo</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><h1><a id='morm'></a>MORMON TEMPLE, NAUVOO.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:0.9em;'>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By permission of Mr. J. R. Smith, we have caused -a view of the Mormon Temple at Nauvoo to be -engraved from his splendid Panorama of the Mississippi, -and we give the engraving in this number. -As the building has been recently destroyed by fire, -our engraving, the first ever published, acquires additional -value. We copy from Mr. Smith’s description -of the Panorama, the following account of -Nauvoo and the Temple:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Nauvoo.</span>—A Mormon city and settlement, now -deserted. It is one of the finest locations for a town -upon the river, it being situated at the second and last -rapids below the Falls of St. Anthony, which extend -from this place to Keokuk, a distance of 12 miles. -The great Mormon Temple stands out conspicuous. -It is the finest building in the west, and if paid for -would have cost over half a million of dollars. It is -built of a white stone, resembling marble, 80 feet -front by 150 deep; 200 feet to the top of the spire. -The caps of the pilasters represent the sun; the base -of them, the half moon with Joe Smith’s profile. The -windows between the pilasters represent stars. A -large female figure with a Bible in one hand is the -vane. An inscription on the front, in large gilt letters, -reads as follows:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>“The House of the Lord, built by the Church of Jesus -Christ of the Latter Day Saints. Commenced April 6, -1841. Holiness to the Lord.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>There is in the basement of the temple a large stone-basin, -supported by twelve oxen of colossal size, -about fifteen feet high altogether, all of white stone -and respectably carved. A staircase leads up to the -top of the basin. It is the font where all the Mormons -were baptized. It is seen in the Panorama -standing aside the Temple, <span class='it'>but in the basement is its -real situation</span>.</p> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='258' id='Page_258'></span><h1><a id='rose'></a>ROSE WINTERS.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A TALE OF FIRST LOVE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY ESTELLE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall never have another hour’s happiness as -long as I live!” exclaimed Rose Winters, weeping -passionately. “You wouldn’t let me marry him, -father, and now he’s gone to sea, and said he should -never come back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t believe it, Rose,” said Mr. Winters. -“He’ll be glad enough to come back, I’ll warrant -you—and the longer he stays away the better, I’m -thinking, it will be for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s not like you, father, to be so unfeeling,” said -Rose, sobbing almost hysterically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense, child—unfeeling, indeed! ay, ay, it -may be so in your judgment, I dare say, but I must -judge with the head, and not with the heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I ought to be allowed to judge for myself, -now I’m of <span class='it'>age</span>,” answered Rose, with sudden -spirit. “I was eighteen my last birthday.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True, Rose, you have had great experience of -mankind, no doubt. But come, now, just tell me -what you could have done if you had married Bob -Selwyn, with no fortune yourself, and he nothing to -depend on but his hands?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We could have done as other people do,” said -Rose—“we could have worked. Have I not always -worked at home, father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To be sure you have. You have been a good, -industrious girl, Rosy, that I sha’n’t deny; but your -work at home was not like pulling continually at -the rowing oar, which would have been your portion -all your life, I’m afraid, with Robert. I can’t see, -for my part, what you wanted to marry him for.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I loved him, and he loved me. Didn’t -you and mother marry for love, father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Winters could not forbear laughing at this question, -notwithstanding Rose’s grief—and his natural -droll humor struggled with his former seriousness as -he replied, “Well, I must try to remember. It is -nearly twenty years ago, now—so long that you have -come of <span class='it'>age</span> in the meanwhile, and fancy you are -wiser than your father. But I can tell you one thing, -Rose, if we did marry for love, we had something to -begin the world with, which is quite as necessary. -You know the old proverb, ‘When poverty comes -in at the door, love flies out of the window.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t believe any such thing, father. Whoever -wrote that proverb never knew what love was. It -was a mean thing in any man to say so; and what -would never have come from a woman, I’ll be -bound.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well, Rosy, you may dry your eyes. I -wish I was as sure of a fortune for you, as I am that -Robert will be back with the ship, if his life is spared; -but if that shouldn’t be the case, you will be young -enough then, and pretty enough, too, to get another -beau.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wont have any other!” exclaimed Rose. “I -am determined to wait for him, if he stays twenty -years!”—and with this resolution she hastily turned -away and ran to her own room, where, secure from -observation, she might give free vent to her full -heart in a long fit of weeping.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We are at a loss to imagine what sort of an impression -our rustic heroine, Rose Winters, has made -on the minds of our readers, from her unceremonious -introduction to them through the foregoing dialogue: -but at all events, she is deserving of a more detailed -description. She was the daughter of a respectable -farmer on Long Island, who resided in a country -village, situated on the Atlantic ocean, and near a -large seaport town. Mr. Winters was a shrewd, -practical man, of strong natural powers of mind, and -excellent plain common sense. Rose was his eldest -and favorite child, and inherited his independent -spirit and natural gifts of understanding, which had -been improved in her by a useful and solid education -at a first-rate country school. She was not, -perhaps, strictly beautiful, but her cheeks were bright -with the hue of health, and her dark-blue eyes sparkled -with animation, and the joyousness of a young heart, -over which a lasting shadow had never passed, until -her lover left her to try his fortunes on the sea. Her -figure was small, but of exquisite proportions, and -her steps sprang elastic with the unchecked spirits of -happy childhood. She was always agreeable and -entertaining without effort, for her words flowed in -the easiest manner possible, from a mouth which nature -had made perfect; and then there was nothing on -earth more inspiring than her merry laugh, which -seemed like the very chorus of joy, and insensibly -imparted a portion of her own gayety to all around -her. Rose had but little of imagination in her heart or -feelings. She was a young, gay creature, full of -spirits and activity, and only actuated by the every-day -scenes of life, from which she extracted mirth -and enjoyment to diffuse unsparingly among all who -came within her influence. There was also a truthfulness -and integrity in her nature, which could not -fail to give beauty, strength, and elevation to her -thoughts and character. The visions of romance -which so often pervert the minds of the young, and -throw a false coloring over the world, were all unknown -to Rose. She had been nurtured amid scenes -where there was but little to excite or enrich the -imagination, but much to awaken bold and lofty -sentiments. Born and brought up within sight and -sound of the grand and magnificent ocean, she delighted -<span class='pageno' title='259' id='Page_259'></span> -to gaze on its rolling and breaking billows, -and listen to its ceaseless sounding roar, which had -often been the solemn lullaby to her nightly slumbers. -The wide and level fields outspread before her native -home, and the few bare hills which skirted here and -there the distant outline, were but little calculated -to inspire those enchanting, but unreal dreams, which -seem insensibly to arise amid the mountain scenery -so wildly beautiful and picturesque in many parts of -our western world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rose had never been twenty miles from her -father’s dwelling. All that she knew of the world -had been learned in her own village, which was an -occasional resort for a small number of strangers -during the heat of summer; but its situation was too -remote to be very generally visited before there were -either railroads or steamboats to facilitate and add -comfort and convenience to traveling. Communication -with New York, which was the nearest city, -was at that time tedious and fatiguing, as the road -lay for many miles through sandy woods, or over a -bleak and rough country. By water, the journey -was performed in sloops, taking from three days to -a week to accomplish the voyage. In consequence -of these disadvantages, the transient sojourners in -the village consisted chiefly of sportsmen, who -sought its solitary retreat for the purpose of enjoying -the game which was formerly found there in great -abundance. The birds were seldom frightened away -from the lanes and meadows, excepting by the gun -of the stranger, who, having once found his way to -that lonely yet delightful part of the country, returned -again and again, not only to scare the plover from -their haunts, but to enjoy the refreshing and invigorating -breezes from the ocean, and revel in the luxury -of freedom from fashion and restraint. There was -a primitive simplicity in the manners of the inhabitants -of the village which was peculiarly pleasing; -and in which school Rose had received her first model. -She was easy and unaffected, because seeking to -appear no higher nor better than she really was. -Among her associates, she was a universal favorite. -Her presence was sure to be in requisition at all the -balls or merry-makings in the neighborhood, for nothing -of the kind could go off well, unless Rose Winters, -with her quick wit, irresistible good humor, and -gay spirits, made one of the party. Her father, though -a man of severe morals and true piety, was far from -being puritanical in his views or feelings. He -loved to see Rose happy, and enjoyed the sunny -atmosphere which her never-failing cheerfulness and -vivacity spread around the household dwelling. -The bright sallies which flashed from her lips, instead -of being checked by the farmer, frequently occasioned -a repartee of wit from him, which gave Rose -a habit of sharpening her own against her father’s -weapons. Thus it was that she learned to respect -her parent without fearing him. She knew him to -be possessed of the most inflexible principles of -truth and rectitude; and that his jocose and lively -temperament could never induce him to swerve for -a moment from the straight-forward course of honesty -and honor. In his judgment she placed the most -unbounded confidence; and it was only in the one -instance in which her heart rebelled against it, that -she yielded to its mandate with bitter and unsatisfied -feelings. Her mother, whom we have not yet mentioned, -had been dead several years; and three sisters, -considerably younger than herself, partook more of -her care than her confidence. It thus happened that -her father had been her companion, more than is -usually the case in such relationships. She had been -accustomed to consult him in all affairs of consequence; -and self-dependent as she was by nature, she -durst not incur the responsibility of acting in direct -opposition to his counsels. In this slight sketch we -have endeavored to give a faint outline of the character -of our heroine, unlike, we are sensible, to the -usual heroines of romance; but the portrait is drawn -from real life, with its beauties unflattered, and its -blemishes unconcealed; and we leave it as it is to -make what impression it may on the opinions of -others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Robert Selwyn was a native of the same village. -He was a few years older than Rose, but had been -accustomed to mingle in all the country pleasures -and amusements of which she had been for a time -the principal attraction. His handsome form, his -manly and pleasing countenance, and his gay and -careless manners, were his only passports to favor. -He had no fortune to assist him in winning his way, -but he had energy and ambition, which were yet to -be aroused into action. There was a distant connection -between the families of Winters and Selwyn, -which served as a plea for frequent and familiar intercourse. -Rose called him Cousin Robert, and under -that name he was received as a sort of privileged -guest at her father’s house. The farmer always -welcomed him; and Rose chatted and laughed and -flirted with him, until at last the flirtation ended in a -serious attachment. Mr. Winters, with all his habitual -foresight, had not looked for this result. To -part with Rose, was an event for which he had made -no calculation, and he could not persuade himself to -believe that her affections were irrevocably engaged. -The application of her lover, therefore, for his consent -to their marriage, was met by a decided refusal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Pooh, pooh, Robert,” said he, in answer to his -solicitation, “I wonder what you would do with a -wife. Tell me first, how you expect to make a -living for yourself, let alone Rose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, if I can do nothing else, sir,” said Selwyn, -“I can follow the sea, and at least get a living out of -the whales. You know others here have got rich -that way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes, Robert, but it’s a hard life, and not -much to your taste, I reckon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It might not be my choice, Mr. Winters; but -I’m not afraid of hardships any more than other men—and -I should think nothing hard with Rose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s the way all young men talk when -they’re in love; but have you no other plan than that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir—I thought of either setting up a store, -or trying to get the school, as the old master is going -away. I believe I know about as much as he does.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Winters laughed as he replied, “Very likely -<span class='pageno' title='260' id='Page_260'></span> -you may, Robert, and be no Solomon either; but it -wont answer. Set up a store on credit, and break -next year; and as for school-keeping—no, no, I must -see some surer prospect of your being able to support -a wife, before you can have Rose with my -consent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Mr. Winters, none of our girls here expect -to marry rich. I wonder where they’d find husbands, -if they looked for money! not in this town, I -am sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There must be something to look to, though, -either money or business. Take my word for it, -young man, you would find love but light stuff to live -upon without something more substantial along -with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Selwyn was silent for a few moments, and then -said in a tone of severe disappointment, “Well, I -must say, sir, that I did not look for this refusal. You -never objected to my visits to Rose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, but I wish I had, since neither of you have -as much sense as I thought for. I have been to blame, -and am sorry for it; but there has been enough said -now, Robert—all the talking in the world will not -alter my mind at present.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was after this conversation that Selwyn, finding -the farmer inflexible, and Rose determined to sacrifice -her love rather than disobey her father, formed the -resolution to go out in a whaling ship, just about to -leave the port. Rose sought in vain to dissuade him. -He told her his mind was made up. “If you wont -have me, Rose,” said he, “I may as well be on the -ocean as the land, for I shall never marry any one -else; but I shall not hold you bound—for most likely -I shall never return.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t expect to hear you say such a thing as -that, Cousin Robert,” answered Rose, with her eyes -full of tears; “but you may hold me bound or not, -just as you please, I shall wait for you. If you should -forget me, I could never believe in the love of any -man afterward.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ship sailed unexpectedly, and Selwyn, much -to his disappointment, was obliged to depart without -again seeing Rose; and the sudden news that he had -gone, occasioned the burst of feeling in her, with -which our story opened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We must now pass over a few anxious and tedious -years. Rose waited and dreamed of her lover’s return, -until her spirits flagged, and her young heart -grew sick with “hope deferred.” Mr. Winters was -puzzled and confounded. He had mistaken his -daughter’s disposition, and was not prepared for the -depth of feeling and affection which she had garnered -in her bosom. That his bright and merry -Rose should suddenly become the reflective and -thinking being, and perform her household duties -with methodical and earnest care, instead of flying -like a bird from room to room, and singing or laughing -off a thousand grotesque mistakes, which before -were continually occurring under her management, -was to him a matter of serious consideration. In -truth he did not much like the change; for what was -gained in order and regularity in his house, was -lost in that inexhaustible fund of animating gayety -which had been wont to beguile him at sight of the -fatigue of daily labor, and cast an unfailing charm -over his retired dwelling. Not that Rose had altogether -sunk into the sober and serious mood—that it -was not in her nature to do—but an indescribable -change had passed over her former manner, which -had somewhat of a depressing influence on her -family. She could not help laughing and being lively, -any more than she could help the beating of her -pulse, or the breath that came without her will or -agency; but there was something missing in the inward -spring from which her spirits flowed. It was -the heart’s happiness—and the spring, in consequence, -sometimes yielded bitter waters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three years had fulfilled their annual revolutions, -before the ship returned in which Selwyn had embarked, -and then, alas! it returned without him. -The voyage had been a most disastrous one. They -had been nearly shipwrecked, after being but a few -months out, and had been obliged to put in at one of -the islands in the Pacific to repair and refit. This -operation necessarily detained them a long time; and -the second year of the voyage, Selwyn got sick and -discouraged, and left them at a port where they had -stopped to winter, and went to London. It was -hinted that he was wild and reckless, and would -never do any thing for want of stability and perseverance. -Rose was indignant at these innuendos. -Her sense of justice and generosity spurned the -meanness of traducing the absent, and her woman’s -love shielded him in her own mind from every attack -on his reputation. She received a letter from -him shortly afterward, the first he had written since -his departure. The general tone of it was sad and -desponding, but it breathed the most unabated affection -toward herself, while at the same time it set her -perfectly free from her engagement to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot ask you, dear Rose,” he wrote, “to -wait for me, when it is so uncertain if I ever can -return to claim your promise. I have made nothing -by this voyage, and am determined never to see -your father again until I can give him a satisfactory -answer to his question of ‘how I am to support a -wife.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rose wept over the letter, and then consigned it -to her most secret hiding-place, and returned with -unshaken resolution to her usual train of duties. She -had lost none of her beauty, for the healthful exercise -of necessary and constant employment, preserved -the bloom on her cheek, and kept her from -giving way to useless repining. Among the beaux -of the village, she continued to have her full share -of admirers; and there was one of the number, -Edward Burton, an enterprising and promising young -man, who sought earnestly to gain her hand. It was -all in vain. Rose was deaf to his entreaties, and -laughed at his remonstrances, until he was obliged -to give up his suit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the meanwhile Robert Selwyn was seeking encouragement -and advancement from a foreign people. -He continued to follow the sea, but without returning -to his native place. He went out from London, and -had risen by the usual gradation of ship-officers, -<span class='pageno' title='261' id='Page_261'></span> -lastly to captain. At the expiration of three more -years, Rose received another letter from him; but -the time of meeting seemed still further and further -in the future. He knew not when he should return. -His employers kept him constantly engaged, and he -hoped in the end to realize an independence; but it -might be long yet before it was accomplished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the burden of the letter, and Rose decided -promptly on a new course of action for herself. -She had long had it in her mind to leave home. -Her eldest sister was fully competent to take her -place in the management of the house, and the other -two were old enough to be companions and assistants; -but Rose felt that she should have to encounter the -opposition of her father. She therefore determined -on making all her arrangements to go before apprising -him of her intention. Much, indeed, then, was the -farmer astonished when Rose took her seat by his -side, after he had finished his evening meal, and addressed -him as follows:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Father, I am going to New York to live.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Going to New York to live!” repeated he, slowly, -as if unable or unwilling to comprehend her words, -“Why what has put that notion in your head, Rose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been thinking of it for a year, father, but -put off telling you till the time came. Last summer, -when Mrs. Sandford was here, she often advised me -to go to New York; and a few days ago I had a letter -from her. She says she can get me a situation as -teacher in a school, where I shall have many advantages, -and I have made up my mind to accept it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to have consulted me about it first, -Rose; I’m doubtful if it will be for the best.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I shall do it for the best,” answered Rose, -“and if it shouldn’t turn out so, I can’t help it. You -know I’m too much like you, father, to give up any -thing I judge to be right; and I hope you wont blame -me for leaving home now, since Betsey is quite as -good a housekeeper as I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Winters bent his eyes downward, and was -silent. It was not his habit to betray any outward -emotion, but there was grief in his heart. His fortitude -was sorely tried. The departure of Rose -would cause a sad break in his home enjoyments, -and the philosophy of the man was destroyed for the -moment, by the feelings of the father. Inwardly he -struggled, till unable to control himself longer, he -rose quickly, and snatching his hat, went out from -the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After some time, he returned calm and composed, -and simply remarked to his daughter, “You say -you’ve decided to go, Rose, so there’s no use in -arguing—but you’ll find a great change in a city life. -If you shouldn’t like it, come back to your old home—that’s -all. Now call the girls in to prayers—it’s -nigh bed-time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rose did as she was bid—and that night the farmer -prayed earnestly and fervently for the child who was -about to quit his protection, and committed her to -the watchful care of Him who neither slumbers nor -sleeps. The prayer over, he retired immediately to -his pillow, which was wet before morning with an -old man’s unwonted tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the course of the following month, Rose was -duly installed in the authority of her new station. -Her active and energetic mind, on which the useful -branches of education had been thoroughly grounded, -soon comprehended all the mysteries of her office, -while her sprightliness and good humor, joined to her -unusual decision of character, fitted her admirably -for her occupation. The first term of her initiation, -however, passed wearily away. Her spirit pined in -the confinement to which she had voluntarily subjected -herself—and with a feeling of <span class='it'>home-sickness</span> -gnawing at her heart, she repaired to her patroness, -Mrs. Sandford, to tell her that she could remain no -longer. “I get thinking of my father,” said she, -“when I ought to be attending to the lessons—and -sometimes my mind gets so confused, that I almost -imagine myself mad, and the school a bedlam. Indeed, -Mrs. Sandford, I cannot engage for another -quarter. I find I was not made for a city life, after -all. The confusion distracts me, and the high houses -and narrow streets, make me gloomy and low-spirited. -I feel as if I couldn’t breathe in the smoke and dust -here. Oh, if you only knew how I long for the -pure air of the country, and the sight, once more, of -the wild, free ocean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, my dear child,” said the lady, “you cannot -think of returning now, in the depth of winter. The -communication by water is closed, and you know it -is a three days’ journey by land in the best of traveling. -At present, they say the roads are nearly impassable. -Come, take my advice and content yourself -till spring. Believe me, you will not find every -thing as you expect when you return to the country. -A short absence from home, often produces a great -change in our own minds, and we are led to view -the same objects in a different light. New impressions -of life and manners frequently destroy the -power of old associations to bring back past happiness; -and we are left to experience a painful disappointment, -without being at first sensible that the -change is in ourselves. We can never be again what -we were before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rose listened attentively, and though far from being -fully convinced by the reasoning of Mrs. Sandford, -she bent her will to a seeming necessity, and consented -to remain. Naturally buoyant, she rallied her -spirits, and overcame her transient depression. Interested -continually in receiving as well as imparting -knowledge, she said no more about returning home -until the summer vacation left her at liberty to revisit -her native town. Then it was that she understood -the change which the more experienced woman -of the world had sought to picture to her imagination. -She was once more in the bosom of her family; on -the very spot where life had opened to her with such -bright anticipations of happiness. The same scenes -were around her. The extended range of level -country, and “The sea, the open sea,” with its -mountainous and heaving billows, presented itself, -as in former days, to her unobstructed view. What -then was lost? It was the simple taste, the unsophisticated -mind, the feelings untainted with the -world, and, most of all, the heart at peace! She -<span class='pageno' title='262' id='Page_262'></span> -was no longer contented. The quietude and sameness -of the country left her too much time for thought; -and her restless spirit wandered again to the thronged -and bustling city, and the ceaseless routine of her -labors in the school as a sort of necessary means of -relief. The sight of the ocean grew painful to her, -from its reminding her too forcibly of her absent lover. -Selwyn wrote not, came not. Some said he was married -in London, and there came not a word from himself -to contradict the report.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Edward Burton took advantage of it to renew the -offer of his hand to Rose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” answered she, decidedly, “if Cousin -Robert is really married, as people say, my faith in -man’s love is destroyed forever. I hope you will -never ask me again, Edward, for my answer will -always be the same.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Burton gave her up, and consoled himself by -marrying another; and Rose returned to New York, -and again devoted herself to the arduous task of -teaching, which often filled her heart with weariness; -yet no one would have imagined her to be a disappointed -girl. <span class='it'>Love-sick</span> she was not; she had too -much strength of mind—but she was true-hearted -and constant. Nine years had elapsed since she had -heard a word of Selwyn, and she knew not whether he -were living or dead. They had been parted <span class='it'>fifteen -years</span>; and who will wonder that time had robbed -her of some of her early bloom; but there was an -added expression of intellect in her countenance, -and a certain refinement of manner imperceptibly -acquired, which she had never possessed in her -father’s house: so that altogether she was more attractive, -more to be admired at thirty-three years of -age, than when she first appeared at eighteen as a -country belle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And where was Robert Selwyn, while by slow -gradations from year to year this change had been -silently wrought in his heart’s first idol. His migrations -in the meantime had been many, and his fortunes -varied. Profits and loss were for some years -nearly balanced in his accounts, but at length the -brighter side predominated. Misfortunes and mishaps -were cleared away from his horizon, and his -sails swept onward through a tide of unexpected -success. It was then that he began to weary of his -long, self-imposed exile, and turn his thoughts and -wishes to home and “native land.” Energetic in -purpose, and prompt in action, he no sooner formed -the resolution of returning than it was put in execution. -The voyage, quickly accomplished, he once -more found himself among his old friends and townsmen, -who shook him heartily by the hand, and welcomed -him back with right good will. Some author -remarks, that “one of the greatest pleasures in life, -is to be born in a small town, where one is acquainted -with all the inhabitants, and a remembrance clings -to every house.” He no doubt felt this on his first -arrival, and his satisfaction was unalloyed; for, like -Rose, he had yet to know himself as he now was. -Most of his youthful companions were married, and -settled down into steady, sober-minded, every-day -sort of people—having made but little improvement -either in mind or manners; but they were not slow -to perceive that the Selwyn who had just returned, -was quite a different man from the Selwyn they had -formerly known. There was certainly a change in -him, but in what it consisted, they found it impossible -to decide. He lacked nothing in cordiality—he -assumed no airs of superiority—he was neither -<span class='it'>elegant</span> nor <span class='it'>fashionable</span>—but he was not what he -used to be. Perhaps it was that he had acquired -more manliness of character; and there was the least -bit more of dignity in his manners; he was the -smallest possible degree more guarded in his expressions; -and his frank and easy address was entirely -free from the most distant approach to awkwardness. -It is true, he was still the gay and jovial -sailor, noble-spirited and generous to a fault—but he -was more the gentleman, more the man of the world -than before he went to foreign parts; and upon the -whole, the conclusion was that he was greatly improved, -and would most likely turn out to be quite a -credit to the town. He had certainly grown handsomer, -as he had grown older. His face wore no -traces of any inward discontent or disappointment, -and it is probable that he had worn his love either -lightly or hopefully in his heart. His first inquiry, -after his return, however, was for Rose; and hearing -she was in New York, he hastened thither to meet -her. It was at the close of a summer afternoon -when he found himself at the door of the house where -he was told she boarded. He inquired for her, -walked in, and sat down in the parlor in the dim -light of the fading day, which was rendered more obscure -in the shadow of the curtained windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rose had gone to her room fatigued and somewhat -dispirited. The name of her visiter was unannounced, -and as she descended with a languid step -to the parlor, she was little prepared for the surprise -that awaited her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Selwyn rose at her entrance with a confused and -doubtful air. “I beg your pardon, madam,” said he, -“I called to see Miss Winters—Rose Winters—I -understood she was here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so she is, Cousin Robert!” exclaimed Rose. -“She is before you, and yet you do not know her. -Am I altered so very much, then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The question was accompanied with a painful -blush, from the consciousness that the bloom of youth -in which he had left her, had passed away forever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Selwyn sprang toward her and caught her hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rose, my own dear Rose,” said he, with real -feeling, “forgive me. No, you are not altered; but -if you were, I should know your voice among a -thousand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, I know I have grown old, cousin,” said -Rose, struggling to recover herself, “how could it -be otherwise, when so many years have passed since -we met.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Rosy, look at me! Has my age stood still, -do you think? Look at the crow’s feet and the gray -hair, and tell me if you love me the less for them. -You would be the same to me, if you were twice as -old as you are; for you see I have come back for -no earthly reason but to marry you, unless your own -<span class='pageno' title='263' id='Page_263'></span> -consent is as hard to obtain now as your father’s -was before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, your friends said you were married in -London.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not my <span class='it'>friends</span>, Rose. It must have been -my <span class='it'>enemies</span> who said that; but <span class='it'>you</span> knew better. -Didn’t I tell you I would never marry any one -but you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, fifteen years ago, Cousin Robert—but the -promise might be outlawed by this time, for all I -knew. You do not pretend to say that you thought -my faith in your word would hold out, without even -receiving a line from you the last nine years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not pretend to say it, coz, when I know it -has. Deny it now if you can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why didn’t you write to me, Robert?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because I’m no writer, and meant to come myself. -You said you’d wait for me—and I knew you -never broke your word. So now, my sweet little -flower, I’ve come to claim you, like a blunt sailor, -as I am, with few words, but a heart full of love, -and what is better, something to live on beside.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are in a great hurry now,” said Rose, -laughing and blushing. “Suppose you wait a little, -seeing you learnt the art so well in your absence. -Why I have not had a chance yet to ask you what -kept you away so long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind that, coz. There ’ill be plenty of -time hereafter. Answer my question first, whether -you mean to have me or not, and let me know -which way to shape my course. If you’ve changed -your mind, and lost your affection for me, just say -so at once, and I’m off to sea in the first ship. You’ll -never be troubled with me again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What an unreasonable man you are,” said Rose, -“just as impatient and headstrong as before you -went away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You knew all my faults, dearest, long, long ago,” -said Selwyn. “They did not hinder you from loving -me once. Love me still, Rose, as you once did. -Be mine, as you promised you would before we -parted, and you shall make me what you please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rose was silent. Her lover’s arm was around -her, and memory was holding its mirror to her mind: -and when she did speak at length, her voice was low -and indistinct, and her words nearly unintelligible. -The spirit of them may be guessed, however, from -the fact that Selwyn did not go to sea, and she resigned -her situation as teacher, and returned with -him to her former home. The wedding was soon -after celebrated with the sanction of her father, and -but one source of regret to Rose, that the old minister, -who in her youthful days was the pastor of her -native village, had been removed in the meanwhile -to another world, and the ceremony of her marriage -was performed by a stranger.</p> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i108.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0005' style='width:600px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>THE MINIATURE.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><h1><a id='zop'></a>THE ZOPILOTES.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY FAYETTE ROBINSON.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>[A Mexican soldier, being grievously wounded in one of the battles of Hidalgo, was deserted by his victorious companions. -Unable to defend himself against the numerous Zopilotes, or vultures, which hovered around him, he put an -end to his life with his own hand.]</p> - -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>I feel the motion of each heavy wing—</p> -<p class='line'>  I hear the rustling of the air they cleave—</p> -<p class='line'>The shadows they, like sombre phantoms, fling</p> -<p class='line'>Closely around and o’er me, hovering,</p> -<p class='line'>  Beget wild fears, which busy fancies weave</p> -<p class='line'>        Into a dreadful certainty.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>I hear the war-cry on the distant field!</p> -<p class='line'>  I see the dust, by charging squadrons cart;</p> -<p class='line'>The cannon’s blaze, the flash of burnished steel;</p> -<p class='line'>Bright banner’s wave, the rapid march and wheel,</p> -<p class='line'>  Where every step may be, perhaps, the last</p> -<p class='line'>        A soldier e’er may take.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Closely, more closely, still I see them sweep,</p> -<p class='line'>  Their wings are furled, and eagerly, they tread,</p> -<p class='line'>Yet silently, as one who walks in sleep,</p> -<p class='line'>Swiftly, as tyrant monsters of the deep</p> -<p class='line'>  Rush on their helpless prey, which seems to dread</p> -<p class='line'>        Far, far too much to fly.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Ye whom I loved, my brethren of the sword,</p> -<p class='line'>  With whom I left my distant mountain-home,</p> -<p class='line'>Come, come to me. Alas! no single word</p> -<p class='line'>I speak will ever by your ears be heard,</p> -<p class='line'>  Where battle cries, the trump and stirring drum,</p> -<p class='line'>        Salute your victory.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Was it for this I left my mother’s side,</p> -<p class='line'>  And bade to her I loved a last adieu,</p> -<p class='line'>The dark-eyed girl I won to be my bride?</p> -<p class='line'>Was it to watch this warm, empurpled tide</p> -<p class='line'>  Of life come gurgling, like a fountain, through</p> -<p class='line'>        My rent and gaping breast?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Wounded, alone, upon the field of strife,</p> -<p class='line'>  The shouts of victory upon mine ear,</p> -<p class='line'>My comrades joyous, or bereft of life,</p> -<p class='line'>Martyrs, with fame and glory ever rife—</p> -<p class='line'>  I do not dread to die alone e’en here,</p> -<p class='line'>        As yon brave men have died.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>But oh, great God! I would not feel the beak</p> -<p class='line'>  Of yon dark vulture tear away my heart;</p> -<p class='line'>Not that I wish my failing strength to eke—</p> -<p class='line'>A soldier’s death it was my joy to seek,</p> -<p class='line'>  Wounded, alone, I have no other art</p> -<p class='line'>        To save me. Let me die.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='264' id='Page_264'></span><h1><a id='men'></a>HISTORY OF THE COSTUME OF MEN,</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>DURING THE EIGHTEENTH AND THE BEGINNING OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY FAYETTE ROBINSON.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-size:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Continued from page 198.</span>)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor does the following present a much greater -difference, and, but for the ear-rings and knee-breeches, -would pass muster even now amid our -infinite varieties of <span class='it'>palelots</span>, <span class='it'>sacks</span> and <span class='it'>Hongroises</span>. -The boot-black represented in the cut is a miniature -<span class='it'>bonnet-rouge</span>.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i114.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0006' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>It is worth while to state that costumes, like -opinions, reproduce themselves. As the ideas which -were once in vogue, and have been abandoned, return -and resume their influence and orthodoxy, so -do the costumes of other days continually reappear, -it is true, with a difference often striking enough, for -men no longer wear either coats of mail or inexpressibles -of velvet, yet the Norman cloak of the -Black Prince, and the <span class='it'>sack</span> of Lauzun, the handsome -French colonel, who, during our own Revolutionary -war, turned the heads and carried away the -hearts of half the women of Philadelphia, are still -every day to be seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The same thing is observable in female costume. -The long waists, tight sleeves and full skirts of old -times have returned, and even the ungainly ruffs of -Queen Elizabeth’s age have shown a disposition to -return. The mode of dressing the hair is also retracing -itself, so that there is little real difference -between the traditional court-dress of former times -and that of every-day life worn at present, except -the train.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='265' id='Page_265'></span> -The following is a caricature of that day, but -scarcely more outré than the bearded creatures from -time to time seen in our own streets. It may be remarked -that the passion for hair on the face always -is consequent on a war. In the time of Henri IV, -all the world was bearded; so during the days of -Cromwell were his ironsides, and now men who -never saw a shot fired, force the sublime into the -ridiculous, by parading a moustache in every thoroughfare -throughout the country.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i115.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0007' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Who knows but that our own Mexican war may -exert an influence on dress, and that some day the -Ranchero’s striped blanket and broad-brimmed hat -may become the fashion. Men will stalk about the -streets in boots of cow-hide, and instead of hunting -with dogs and rifles, the <span class='it'>lazo</span> or <span class='it'>lariette</span> will be -adopted universally. All the world knows that immediately -after the return of the army of the Duke -of Wellington to England, from Waterloo, the military -black stock was adopted, and it may be that the -green pantaloons with the brown stripe, now worn, -are an imitation of the dress of the Mexican veterans -who were defeated at Cherebusco. The same may -be said of the cloth caps, with the covers of oil-skin, -now so much in vogue. It may be remarked that -this article of dress has always followed the <span class='it'>tenue</span> of -the army, the flat cap replacing the hussar’s, as the -latter did the old gig-top leather apparatus.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Other nations of Europe did not participate in the -French Revolution, but became imitators of the costumes -it created. We have now come to the period -of the Directory, which exerted its influence on costume, -or rather the influence of which was reflected -by the costume of the day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Directory and Consulate saw all France seized -with fury for the antique. These were the days of -the <span class='it'>Romaines</span> and <span class='it'>Atheniennes</span>, when David was -toiling with the pencil to effect a reform of costume, -and when Talma sought to introduce correct ideas -of dress on the stage. The men of Paris still adhered -to the English costume, which, fortified by -their <span class='it'>fiat</span>, became that of the world. They compromised -their English predilections, however, so far as -to wear their hair <span class='it'>à la Titus</span> or <span class='it'>à la Caracalla</span>, -what that was may be seen from the following -engraving.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='266' id='Page_266'></span></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i117.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0008' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>They seemed, however, to struggle to make this -costume as unbecoming as possible, wearing the -coats loose, the collars immense, the breasts small, -and such pantaloons and <span class='it'>shocking bad</span> hats as were -never seen before or since. The costume of a dandy -of 1798 consisted of a blue coat, a white waistcoat, -open in the breast, a finely worked shirt-bosom, -fastened with a diamond pin, a huge muslin cravat, -Nankin pantaloons, with black stripes down the -seams, and thrust into the boots. (In society the boot -was replaced by a small and pointed shoe.) The -everlasting bludgeon was as indispensable in the -street as the boots and the hat. To young Thelusson, -when thus dressed and armed, Madame de Stael, -who wore an oriental <span class='it'>toilette</span>, said, “Citizen, you -bear the sceptre of ridicule.” “Madame,” replied -he, “you are certainly competent to award it to -whom you please.” Never were there so many -strange costumes seen in any one city as in Paris -at that time, when <span class='it'>peruques</span>, powder, hair <span class='it'>à la -Titus</span>, cocked and round hats all were mingled together. -Costume was indeed republican if the government -was despotic.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-top:0.5em;'>[<span class='it'>Conclusion in our next.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><h1><a id='earth'></a>THE BEAUTIFUL OF EARTH.</h1></div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>All Nature’s beauteous forms, of light, of earth, or air, or sky,</p> -<p class='line'>Compare not with the flexile frame, the lustrous, speaking eye;</p> -<p class='line'>The opening flower, the rainbow tint, the blue and star-lit dome,</p> -<p class='line'>Are things of naught, in contrast with the angels of our home:</p> -<p class='line'>All gentle acts, all noble thoughts, of Heaven-directed birth,</p> -<p class='line'>Are centered in the fair and good, the beautiful of earth.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='267' id='Page_267'></span><h1><a id='bird'></a>WILD-BIRDS OF AMERICA.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY PROFESSOR FROST.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i119.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0009' style='width:300px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>CAROLINA OR MOCKING WREN.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This interesting bird is strictly southern in its -habits, being rarely found north of Maryland and -Delaware, while it abounds during the whole year -in the warmer states. Occasionally it strays to the -vicinity of Philadelphia and even of New York; -but this is so seldom that the indefatigable Wilson -never found its nest north of the Maryland line. -Like the House-Wren it is a sprightly, industrious -and familiar bird, and a general favorite in the neighborhood -where it abounds. Other qualities render -its nature so ambiguous that some have hesitated to -place it among the Wrens. One of the most remarkable -of these is its power of imitating the songs -of other birds. With much sweetness and accuracy it -blends its own notes with the simple twittering of the -Ground-Robin, the harsh noise of the Woodpecker, -the trilling of the Blackbird and Warbler, and the -whistling of the Cardinal. These are its favorite -imitations; but its powers of mimicry embrace the -songs of almost all our forest-birds. But notwithstanding -this capriciousness in sounds, the Carolina -Wren is said to have a favorite theme, repeated -more regularly than any other. Nuttall thus pleasantly -describes it. “This was the first sound that -I heard from him, delivered with great spirit, though -in the dreary month of January. This sweet and -melodious ditty, <span class='it'>tsee-toot</span>, <span class='it'>tsee-toot</span>, <span class='it'>tsee-toot</span>, and -sometimes <span class='it'>tsee-toot</span>, <span class='it'>tsee toot-seet</span>, was usually uttered -in a somewhat plaintive or tender strain, varied -at each repetition with the most delightful and delicate -tones, of which no conception can be formed -without experience. That this song has a sentimental -air may be conceived from its interpretation by the -youths of the country, who pretend to hear it say, -<span class='it'>sweet-heart</span>, <span class='it'>sweet-heart</span>, <span class='it'>sweet</span>! nor is the illusion -more than the natural truth, for, usually, this affectionate -ditty is answered by its mate, sometimes in -the same note, at others in a different call. In most -cases, it will be remarked, that the phrases of our -songster are uttered in 3s; by this means it will be -generally practicable to distinguish its performance -from that of other birds, and particularly from the -Cardinal Grosbeak, whose expression it often closely -imitates, both in power and delivery. I shall never, -I believe, forget the soothing satisfaction and amusement -I derived from this little constant and unwearied -minstrel, my sole vocal companion through many -weary miles of a vast, desolate, and otherwise cheerless -wilderness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The food of the Carolina Wren consists of the insects -found in old timber, and along the banks of -streams, places which it delights to frequent. It is -found among the thick cypress swamps of the south -even in the middle of winter. It can see well in the -dark, sometimes searching food in caves, where to -most other day birds objects would be undistinguishable. -Its building places are a barn, or stable, some -old decayed tree, or even a post-fence. The female -lays from five to eight eggs, of a dusky white, mottled -with brown. Two broods are raised in a season, -and sometimes even three. The adult bird is five -and a quarter inches long, of a chestnut brown, beautifully -mottled with black and other colors. The -female differs little in color from the male.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='pageno' title='268' id='Page_268'></span></p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i121.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0010' style='width:350px;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>THE CARDINAL BIRD.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This bird is known under the names of Virginia -Red Bird, Virginia Nightingale and Crested Red -Bird. It is one of the most beautiful of American -songsters, and in power and sweetness of tone it has -been compared with the Nightingale. The species -belongs mostly to the United States and Mexico, but -has been found in considerable numbers in the West -Indies, Central America and Colombia. Although -delighting in a southern clime, it is sometimes observed -in Pennsylvania, and even New England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Being migratory, it often flies in large flocks, presenting -a splendid appearance, especially when -moving in relief over a clear sky, and in the rays of -the sun. At other times several of these birds are -found associated with Sparrows, Snow-Birds and -other half domestic species. When alone his favorite -haunts are the corn-field, small clumps of trees, and -the borders of shaded rivulets. Corn is their favorite -food, in addition to which they eat seeds of fruit, -grain and insects. They are easily domesticated, -even when taken quite old, and require very little -trouble in order to thrive well. Loss of color, however, -has often been the result of long confinement, -although with care this might perhaps be obviated. -They are lively in the cage, and maintain their -powers of song to the last. Numbers of them are -carried to France and England, where they are -highly esteemed. Their time of song lasts from -March to September.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Cardinal Bird’s song consists of a favorite -stanza often repeated, with boldness, variety of tone -and richness. Its whistling somewhat resembles that -of the human voice, though its energy is much -greater. In his native grove, his voice rises above -almost every other songster except the Mocking-Bird. -The powers of the female are almost equal to -those of the male, of whom she is a most constant -and affectionate partner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Latham admits that the notes of the Cardinal “are -almost equal to those of the Nightingale,” the sweetest -of the feathered minstrels of Europe. But, says -Nuttall, “the style of their performance is wholly -different. The bold martial strains of the Red Bird, -though relieved by tender and exquisite touches, possess -<span class='pageno' title='269' id='Page_269'></span> -not the enchanting pathos, the elevated and varied -expression of the far-famed Philomel, nor yet -those contrasted tones, which, in the solemn stillness -of the growing night, fall at times into a soothing -whisper, or slowly rise and quicken into a loud and -cheering warble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Cardinal Bird measures eight inches in length, -and eleven from the tip of one wing to that of the -other. The whole upper parts are of a dull dusky-red, -except the sides of the neck, head and lower -parts, which are of a clear vermilion. The chin, -front and lores black. The head is ornamented with -a high pointed crest. The bill is coral red, and the -legs and feet are pale ash color. The female is somewhat -less than the male, and a little different in -color. Both sexes are noted for affection to their -young, and to each other; but so jealous are the -males that they have often been known to destroy -those of their own sex.</p> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div><h1><a id='jenny'></a>JENNY LIND.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MISS M. SAWIN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>A world’s sweet enchantress, unbounded in fame,</p> -<p class='line'>O how shall I sing of so peerless a name—</p> -<p class='line'>Thy tones, from the wilds of a picturesque land,</p> -<p class='line'>The billows of ocean have borne to our strand;</p> -<p class='line'>Though I ne’er have beheld thee, yet bound in thy spell,</p> -<p class='line'>My bosom thine echoes still onward would swell—</p> -<p class='line'>Would enshrine in my song the sweet soul of thy strains,</p> -<p class='line'>Till fresh incense should rise from our mountains and plains.</p> -<p class='line'>Though long on the altar thou’st kindled the fire,</p> -<p class='line'>Oh how shall it burn on the strings of the lyre!</p> -<p class='line'>’Tis the music of Nature sublimed in thy lays</p> -<p class='line'>Which has won thee thy guerdon of lore and of praise;</p> -<p class='line'><a id='tis'></a>’Tis hence that the depths of the spirit it thrills,</p> -<p class='line'>That responses start forth from mountains and hills,</p> -<p class='line'>That no barriers the flight of thine echoes can bind,</p> -<p class='line'>Which are borne o’er the earth on the wings of the wind.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>There is glowing within us, all restless, a lyre,</p> -<p class='line'>Which would swell like an angel’s its anthems of fire,</p> -<p class='line'>But the shroud of mortality fetters its strings—</p> -<p class='line'>Yet thou while on earth hast unfolded thy wings,</p> -<p class='line'>Canst dwell with the fairies in chalice of flowers,</p> -<p class='line'>And glide with the wood nymphs in deep sylvan bowers;</p> -<p class='line'>Canst float with the moonbeams in dew-silvered trees,</p> -<p class='line'>And rise on the wings of the morn’s fragrant breeze,</p> -<p class='line'>While sunbeams are waking the rapturous lays</p> -<p class='line'>Of dew-drops and birds, and yet all ’neath their blaze;</p> -<p class='line'>Canst hover o’er ocean when storm it enthrones,</p> -<p class='line'>And bear from the foam-crested surges their tones;</p> -<p class='line'>When dark are the skies and the thunder-clouds lower,</p> -<p class='line'>With the eagle’s bold flight to the mountain’s crest soar;</p> -<p class='line'>The streams of the forest to their fountains canst wind,</p> -<p class='line'>And caverns resounding in solitude find;</p> -<p class='line'>Enshrined in thy spirit their voices canst keep,</p> -<p class='line'>Sublimed by thine alchemy subtile and deep,</p> -<p class='line'>At thy will from thy spirit their harmonies sweep,</p> -<p class='line'>And I ween thou hast soared to the portals of Heaven,</p> -<p class='line'>Or some angel a tone to thy praises has given.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>O, Jenny, the brightest cynosure below!</p> -<p class='line'>The fount in thy bosom must here cease to flow;</p> -<p class='line'>Like the sear leaves of autumn which shroud the old years,</p> -<p class='line'>Thy harp-strings must perish ’mid wailings and tears;</p> -<p class='line'>Thy lovers who bend at thy purity’s shrine,</p> -<p class='line'>Enchained by the spells of thy carols divine,</p> -<p class='line'>When no temple’s proud arches resound with thy strain,</p> -<p class='line'>In the wilds of thy forests shall seek thee in vain;</p> -<p class='line'>But when from thy tomb they despairing return,</p> -<p class='line'>In lyres immortal thine echoes shall burn.</p> -<p class='line'>Alas! that thy music should ever here die,</p> -<p class='line'>Should leave the sad earth and ascend to the sky;</p> -<p class='line'>Yet when thou art fled to the seraphim throng</p> -<p class='line'>Will fancy yet list to thy glorified song,</p> -<p class='line'>Will dream that no harp on the heavenly plains</p> -<p class='line'>Has music so sweet as are there thy high strains.</p> -<p class='line'>Though we never may list while on earth to thy lays,</p> -<p class='line'>For the boon of thy being high Heaven we’ll praise;</p> -<p class='line'>Where thy strains are ascending must Paradise be—</p> -<p class='line'>Humanity’s scale is exalted in thee.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>There is a tone in my bosom as yet unexpressed,</p> -<p class='line'>And fain would I bid it to ever there rest,</p> -<p class='line'>But the woes of the earth for its utterance plead,</p> -<p class='line'>Then may it go forth as a merciful deed:—</p> -<p class='line'>O, Jenny, while shining so brilliant on high,</p> -<p class='line'>Like the Lyrian star on the vault of the sky,</p> -<p class='line'>While the peers of the realms bow in homage to thee,</p> -<p class='line'>Dost never thy race in their miseries see?</p> -<p class='line'>To the charm of thy music we ever would yield,</p> -<p class='line'>By thee would be borne to Elysium’s field,</p> -<p class='line'>And forgetful that wrong or that wo were on earth,</p> -<p class='line'>Forever would list to thine angel-like mirth.</p> -<p class='line'>But the heart fraught with sympathies true, must embrace</p> -<p class='line'>The lowest as well as the stars of our race—</p> -<p class='line'>Round the poor and the wretched in bitterness twine—</p> -<p class='line'>On devotion’s wings rise to where pure seraphs shine;—</p> -<p class='line'>In our pathway to Heaven we encounter the thorn,</p> -<p class='line'>Each brother’s woes feel and the proud tyrant’s scorn—</p> -<p class='line'>The way that our holy Redeemer has trod</p> -<p class='line'>But leads us through tears to the throne of our God.</p> -<p class='line'>I know that thine own gushing spirit is free</p> -<p class='line'>As the winds that o’ersweep the high mountains and sea;</p> -<p class='line'>Thy genius has burst from all species of chains,</p> -<p class='line'>And freedom unbounded swells forth in thy strains;</p> -<p class='line'>But while ever exulting on fetterless wing,</p> -<p class='line'>Wouldst not the blest boon to each lorn spirit bring?</p> -<p class='line'>Thy music, which thrills to the depths of the heart,</p> -<p class='line'>Might bid us to deeds of true chivalry start;</p> -<p class='line'>Might bid the kind fountain in proud bosoms flow,</p> -<p class='line'>To heal the crushed hearts that are writhing in wo.</p> -<p class='line'>Both Knowledge and Virtue like angels descend,</p> -<p class='line'>The sad thralls of Sin and of Darkness to rend,</p> -<p class='line'>Perchance that the tyrant may yield to thy charms,</p> -<p class='line'>And avert the dread doom of the Future’s alarms,</p> -<p class='line'>Till unwilling vassals no more bend the knee,</p> -<p class='line'>But rise at his bidding and ever be free.</p> -<p class='line'>And the gold thou hast won by the charm of thy name,</p> -<p class='line'>To its splendor might add the philanthropist’s fame,</p> -<p class='line'>Till many an oasis from deserts shall spring,</p> -<p class='line'>When the arches of Heaven with thy praises shall ring.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='270' id='Page_270'></span><h1><a id='storm'></a>STORM-LINES.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>When the rains of November are dark on the hills, and the pine-trees incessantly roar</p> -<p class='line'>To the sound of the wind-beaten crags, and the floods that in foam through their black channels pour:</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>When the breaker-lined coast stretches dimly afar, through the desolate waste of the gale,</p> -<p class='line'>And the clang of the sea-gull at nightfall is heard from the deep, like a mariner's wail:</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>When the gray sky drops low, and the forest is bare, and the laborer is housed from the storm,</p> -<p class='line'>And the world is a blank, save the light of his home through the gust shining redly and warm:—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Go thou forth, if the brim of thy heart with its tropical fullness of life overflow—</p> -<p class='line'>If the sun of thy bliss in the zenith is hung, and no shadow reminds thee of wo!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Leave the home of thy love; leave thy labors of fame; in the rain and the darkness go forth,</p> -<p class='line'>When the cold winds unpausingly wail as they drive from the cheerless expanse of the North.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Thou shalt turn from the cup that was mantling before; thou shalt hear the eternal despair</p> -<p class='line'>Of the hearts that endured and were broken at last, from the hills and the sea and the air!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Thou shalt hear how the Earth, the maternal, laments for the children she nurtured with tears—</p> -<p class='line'>How the forest but deepens its wail and the breakers their roar, with the march of the years!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Then the gleam of thy hearth-fire shall dwindle away, sad the lips of thy loved ones be still:</p> -<p class='line'>And thy soul shall lament in the moan of the storm, sounding wide on the shelterless hill.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>All the woes of existence shall stand at thy heart, and the sad eyes of myriads implore,</p> -<p class='line'>In the darkness and storm of their being, the ray, streaming out through thy radiant door.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Look again: how that star of thy Paradise dims, through the warm tears, unwittingly shed—</p> -<p class='line'>Thou art man, and a sorrow so bitterly wrung, never fell on the dust of the Dead!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Let the rain of the midnight beat cold on thy cheek, and the proud pulses chill in thy frame,</p> -<p class='line'>Till the love of thy bosom is grateful and sad, and thou turn'st from the mockery of Fame!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Take with humble acceptance the gifts of thy life; bid thy joy brim the fountain of tears;</p> -<p class='line'>For the soul of the Earth, in endurance and pain, gathers promise of happier years!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div><h1><a id='books'></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h1></div> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Child of the Sea and Other Poems. By Mrs. S. Anna -Lewis, Author of “Records of the Heart,” etc. etc. New -York: George P. Putnam.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A large edition of “Records of the Heart” was sold in -a few months, and the fair author stepped at once into a -very enviable position. “The Child of the Sea,” etc. will -add much to her poetical fame. The poem which gives -name to the volume, and occupies most of it, is a romantic -and passionate narrative, and embodies all the main features -of Mrs. Lewis’s thought as well as manner. The -story is well conducted and somewhat elaborately handled; -the style, or general tone, is nervous, free, dashing—much -in the way of Maria del Occidente—but the principal -ground for praise is to be found in the great aggregate of -quotable passages. The opening lines, for example, are -singularly vivid:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>Where blooms the myrtle and the olive flings</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its aromatic breath upon the air—</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the sad Bird of Night forever sings</p> -<p class='line0'>  Meet anthems for the Children of Despair.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The <span class='it'>themes</span> of the poem—a few lines farther on—are -summed up in words of Byronic pith and vigor:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>                     ——youthful Love,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ill-starred, yet trustful, truthful and sublime</p> -<p class='line0'>As ever angels chronicled above—</p> -<p class='line0'>The sorrowings of Beauty in her prime—</p> -<p class='line0'>Virtue’s reward—the punishment of Crime—</p> -<p class='line0'>The dark, inscrutable decrees of Fate—</p> -<p class='line0'>Despair, untold before in prose or rhyme.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<p class='pindent'>We give a few more instances of what we term “quotable” -passages—thoughtful, vivid, pungent or vigorous:</p> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Fresh blows the breeze on Tarick’s burnished bay—</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>The silent sea-mews bend them through the spray—</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>The beauty-freighted barges bound afar</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>To the soft music of the gay guitar. . . . . .</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk132'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>The olive children of the Indian Sea.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk133'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>That rayless realm where Fancy never beams—</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>That Nothingness beyond the Land of Dreams.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk134'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Folded his arms across his sable vest</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>As if to keep the heart within his breast.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk135'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>        ——Violets lifting up their azure eyes</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Like timid virgins whom Love’s steps surprise.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk136'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>And all is hushed—so still—so silent there</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>That one might hear an angel wing the air.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk137'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>        ——There are times when the sick soul</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Lies calm amid the storms that ’round it roll,</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Indifferent to Fate or to what haven</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>By the terrific tempest it is driven.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk138'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>The dahlias, leaning from the golden vase,</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Peer pensively into her pallid face,</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>While the sweet songster o’er the oaken door</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Looks through his grate and warbles “weep no more!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk139'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>        ——beauteous in her misery—</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>A jewel sparkling up through the dark sea</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Of Sorrow.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<hr class='tbk140'/> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Delirium’s world of fantasy and pain,</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Where hung the fiery moon and stars of blood</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:0.9em;'>And phantom ships rolled on the rolling flood.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Isabelle or The Broken Heart</span>” occupies some 40 pages, -and is fully as good as “The Child of the Sea”—although -in a very different way. There is less elaboration, perhaps, -but not less true polish, and even more imagination.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “Miscellaneous Poems” are, of course, varied in -<span class='pageno' title='271' id='Page_271'></span> -merit. Some of them have been public favorites for a -long time. “My Study,” especially, has been often -quoted and requoted. It is terse and vigorous. From -“The Beleagured Heart” we extract a quatrain of very -forcible originality:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>I hear the mournful moans of joy—</p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Hope, sobbing while she cheers</span>—</p> -<p class='line0'>Like dew descending from the leaf</p> -<p class='line0'>  The dropping of Love’s tears.</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The volume is most exquisitely printed and bound—one -of the most beautiful books of the season.</p> - -<hr class='tbk141'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The History of England, from the Accession of James II. -By Thomas Babington Macaulay. New York: Harper -& Brothers. Vols. 1 and 2. 8vo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>No person, of whig or tory politics, could in the present -age, propose to himself the task of writing the history of -England, without feeling the delicacy and responsibility -of his undertaking, and the necessity of exercising a different -class of powers from those which may have given -sparkle and point to his partisan efforts. The importance -of the principles involved in the events and characters -coming under his view, and their wide applications to -contemporary controversies, would be sure to bring down -upon the unlucky advocate a storm of moral and immoral -indignation. It would seem on the first blush that Macaulay, -with all his vast and vivified erudition, was not -a writer calculated to experience the full force of a historian’s -duties, or to display in the analysis and judgment -of events that intellectual conscientiousness which is a -rare quality even in powerful minds. His historical -essays bear as unmistakable marks of partisanship as -ability, and are especially characterized by a merciless -severity, which, in the name of justice, too often loses the -insight us well as the toleration which come from charity. -Sir James Macintosh, toward the commencement of his -career, referred to him as “a writer of consummate ability, -who has failed in little but in the respect due to the abilities -and character of his opponents.” Though as a partisan, -Macaulay was a partisan on the right side, on the side of -liberty and truth, the unmeasured scorn he poured, hot -from his heart, on tyrants and bigots, and the fierce, -swift sweep of his generalizations, often made his cooler -readers suspicious of his accuracy when most dazzled and -delighted by his brilliancy. In the present history a great -change is manifest. The petulance, the flippancy, the -dogmatism of the essayist, are hardly observable, and in -their place we have the solid judgment of the historian. -There is a general lowering of the tone in which persons -and principles are considered, consequent upon the change -in the writer’s position from an antagonist to a judge. The -style, while it has no lack of the force, richness, variety, -directness and brilliancy, which characterized the diction -of the essayist, has likewise a sweetness, gravity and -composure which the essayist never displayed. Though -the writer’s opinions are radically the same as ever, they -are somewhat modified by being seen through a less extravagant -expression, and by being restored to their proper -relations. In fact, the history presents Macaulay as a -wiser and more comprehensive man than his essays, and -if we sometimes miss the generous warmth and intensity, -and the daring sweep of his earlier compositions, we also -miss their declamatory contemptuousness and mental -bombast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The volumes which the Harpers have given to us in so -elegant a form, (vulgarized a little by Dr. Webster’s ortho-graphical -crotchets,) close with the proceedings of the -Convention which gave the crown to William and Mary. -A long historical introduction, containing a view of -English history previous to the reign of James II., and a -view of England, in its manners, customs, literature and -people at the time of his accession, occupy the larger portion -of the first volume, and are almost unmatched, certainly -unexcelled, in historical literature, for the combination -of condensed richness of matter with popularity of -style. Then follows the narrative of the three years of -folly and madness which produced the revolution of 1688, -and hurled James II. from his throne. This narrative is -detailed with a minuteness which leaves nothing untold -necessary to the complete apprehension of the subject in -all its bearings, and it evinces on almost every page not -only singular felicity in narration, but great power of -original and striking observation. Masterly generalization, -and sagacity in seizing and luminousness in unfolding -the principles of events. The whole history has the -interest of a grand dramatic poem, in which the movement -of the story and delineation of the characters are managed -with consummate skill. The portraits of Charles II., -James II., Danby, Rochester, Sunderland, Godolphin, -Halifax, Churchill, and especially William of Orange, are -altogether superior to any which have previously appeared. -Halifax and King William seem to be Macaulay’s favorites, -and he has surprised many of his readers by his -comparative coolness to Russell, Sydney, and the whig -patriots generally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The history closes with an eloquent passage on the -“glorious” Revolution of 1688. It appears to us that the -meanness and lowness which Macaulay has developed -in the actors in the event, impress the reader with a -different notion of it. The whole thing has a jobby air, -in which no commanding genius is observable, and no -sacrifices seem to have been made. Indeed Macaulay -himself, in one of his essays, remarks truly that the only -sacrifices made in the Revolution, “was the sacrifice -which Churchill made of honor and Anne of natural -affection.” That the Revolution, in its results, was one -of the most glorious recorded in human annals, there can -be little doubt, but it had its birth in such odious treachery, -and was conducted by men so deficient in elevation of mind -or even common honesty, that its story is little calculated -to kindle sympathy, or awaken admiration.</p> - -<hr class='tbk142'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The History of England from the Peace of Utrecht to the -Peace of Paris. By Lord Mahon. Edited by Henry -Reed, Professor of English Literature in the University of -Pennsylvania. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 2 vols. 8vo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The author of this history is all English nobleman of -large historical acquirements, who has managed to produce -two or three valuable works demanding great study -and research, without interfering with his duties as a -member of Parliament, though, doubtless with some interference -with his pleasures as a member of the English -aristocracy. The present work is valuable for its accuracy, -and interesting from its giving a connected view of the -history of England during a period but little known except -by the empty abstracts of stupid compilers, or the brilliant -but prejudiced letters and memoirs of contemporary -writers and statesmen. It comprehends the administrations -of Harley and Bolingbroke, of Stanhope, Walpole, -Carteret, Newcastle and Chatham, thus including the -latter years of the reign of Queen Anne and the reigns of -George I. and II. The period covers a wide field of -characters and events, and Lord Mahon has been especially -successful in unraveling the threads of the foreign policy -of England, and indicating the difficulties experienced by -her statesmen in sustaining the House of Hanover on the -throne. In a narrative point of view the best portions of -the history are those relating to the rebellions of 1715 and -1745. It is almost needless to say that Professor Reed -<span class='pageno' title='272' id='Page_272'></span> -has added much to the value and interest of the work by -his elucidative notes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the richness of Lord Mahon’s materials and the -interest of his subject cannot conceal the fact that he lacks -both the heart and the brain of an able historian, and that -he is essentially a common-place man. The reflections he -appends to some of his narratives are commonly such -obvious truisms, or such poor apologies for reason, that -the reader is made painfully aware of his being in the -company of a mediocre gentleman, who, while he always -means well, never means much. Lord Mahon is deficient -equally in historical science and historical imagination, -and his work equally barren of profound principles and -vivid pictures. A moderate tory, he holds the hearsays -of his creed with a lazy acquiescence, without sufficient -passion to be a bigot, and without sufficient logic to be a -sophist. When he is tempted into historical parallels, or -disquisitions on the changes of parties, as in that passage -where he essays to prove that a modern whig is synonymous -with a tory of Queen Anne’s day, he adopts the argumentation -of Fluellen rather than Chillingworth—shows that -“there is a mountain in Wales and a mountain in Macedon,” -and leaves the reader to mourn over the misdirection -of the human faculties. In his estimate of literature he is -still worse. The disquisition on the literature of Queen -Anne’s time, in the present history, is a medley of mingled -commonplace, which has been worn to rags, and critical -nonsense, which has been long exploded. His history, -therefore, must be considered simply as a useful narrative -of important events, and carefully distinguished from those -of Guizot and Thierrey, of Hallam and Macaulay, of Prescott -and Bancroft.</p> - -<hr class='tbk143'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Leaves from Margaret Smith’s Journal in the Province of -Massachusetts Bay, 1678-9. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & -Fields. 1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This beautifully printed volume sustains both the reputation -of its publishers for printing handsome books, and -its reputed author for writing good ones. It is generally -attributed to Whittier, and it certainly displays throughout -the shrewdness with which that poet observes, and -the facility with which he idealizes events. Here is a -volume bringing up to the eye with the vividness of reality -the scenes and characters of a past age, and making us as -familiar with them as if we had ridden by the side of Margaret -in her journey from Boston to Newbury, and yet -through the whole book runs a vein of pure poetry, lending -a consecrating light to scenes which might possess -but little interest if actually observed. The quaint spelling -undoubtedly adds to the illusion of its antiquity, but -what makes it really seem old is its primitive sentiment -and bold delineations. Margaret herself is a most bewitching -piece of saintliness, with the sweetness and -purity of one of Jeremy Taylor’s sermons, and as full of -genial humanity as of beautiful devotion. Placed as she -is amid the collision of opposite fanaticisms, the austere -fanaticism of the Puritan and the vehement fanaticism of -the Quaker, she shines both by her own virtues and by -contrast with the harsh qualities by which she is surrounded. -The book provokes a comparison with the -Diary of Lady Willoughby, and that comparison it will -more than stand, being superior to that charming volume -in the range of its persons and events, and equal to it in -the conception of the leading character. The author has -shown especial art in modifying every thing, by the supposed -medium of mind through which it passes—the heroine -telling the whole story in her own words—and at the -same time preserving every thing in its essential life. -This is a difficult and delicate process of representation, -but Whittier has performed it.</p> - -<hr class='tbk144'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Democracy in France. By Monsieur Guizot, Late Prime -Minister. New York: D. Appleton & Co.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This little volume is well worthy the reputation of one -of the greatest historians, philosophers and statesmen at -the age—in other words, of the reputation of Guizot. It -is marked by preeminent ability in statement, analysis, -argumentation and composition, and we doubt not will -exert some considerable influence on the politics of France. -In his preface the author avers that nothing in the volume -bears the impress of his personal situation, and he adds, -“While events of such magnitude are passing before his -eyes, a man who did not forget himself would deserve to -be forever forgotten.” The book justifies the author’s -assertion. It is simply an examination of things without -regard to persons, and is as philosophic in its tone as in -its method. The chapters on The Social Republic and -The Elements of Society are masterpieces of analysis and -statement, and well deserve the attentive study of all who -think or prattle on social science. It seems to us that the -present volume is sufficient to convince all candid minds, -that whatever may be the faults and errors of Guizot as a -statesman, he has no equal among the men at present -dominant in France. Since his fall that country has been -governed, or misgoverned, by soldiers and sentimentalists, -with a pistol in one hand and the Rights of Man in the -other, and is a standing monument of the madness of trusting -the state to men of “second rate ability and first rate -incapacity.” The Red Republicans have principles; M. -Guizot has principles; the legitimists have principles; -but the present dynasty has the peculiar character of being, -in an intellectual sense, the most thoroughly unprincipled -government that French ingenuity could have -formed.</p> - -<hr class='tbk145'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Oregon and California. By J. Quinn Thornton. New -York: Harper & Brothers, 1849.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A pleasant book, well written, and containing much information -just now, peculiarly valuable in relation to -Oregon and California. Many strange phases of life in -the wilderness and prairie, are described by one who -knows its peculiar hardships and pleasures. The terrible -sufferings, the awful stories told of the early emigrants, -are faithfully given, and, if official accounts be true, are -scarcely exaggerated. A valuable appendix on the gold -country is added, undoubtedly to be relied on. The book -is well illustrated in wood.</p> - -<hr class='tbk146'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Parterre, a Collection of Flowers Culled by the Wayside. -By D. W. Belisle. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippencott -& Co., 1849.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A pretty looking volume, very creditable to the publishers -in a typographical point of view, and containing -a number of poems of various lengths, on a variety of subjects. -The longest, Wallenpaupack, is an attempt, and a -very creditable one also, to commemorate an incident of -the history of the North American Indian, a source of -poetical subjects too much neglected. The book is well -worth attention. It may not be uninteresting to state that -the type has all been set up by the author.</p> - -<hr class='tbk147'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Roland Cashel. By Charles Lever. Illustrated by Phiz. -New York: Harper & Brothers.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is probably the best novel of one of the most popular -novelists of the day. Lever has not much solidity of mind, -and accordingly never produces any masterpieces of characterization -or passion, but he has a quicksilver spirit of -frolic and drollery, and an intensity of mirthful feeling which -have made some critics place him on a level with Dickens. -The present volume will more than sustain the reputation -which his former frolicksome audacities have attained.</p> - -<hr class='tbk148'/> - -<div><span class='pageno' title='273' id='Page_273'></span><h1><a id='table'></a>EDITOR’S TABLE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>“GRAHAM” TO “JEREMY SHORT.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>My Dear Jeremy</span>,—In my last I promised you a reminding -hint, a sketch reflective and suggestive of mining -operations, as an offset to the brilliant visions of “Gold -Placers,” which haunt the mind, sleeping and waking, of -Uncle Sam’s children. While multitudes are making haste -to grow rich, by going around the Horn, and at the terminus -of their long voyage will find themselves coming -out of the little end of it, you and I may amuse ourselves -over a subject somewhat kindred—a retrospective folly—feeling -the while a good deal like the boy on getting rid -of the jumping tooth-ache—“a <span class='it'>heap</span> better” are we, “now -it is over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Copper!</span> You have heard of it before, I believe? and -may have about you a memorandum of a few thousands, -entered on the credit side, not available now at your -bankers. It was a very happy delusion, was it not? I’ll -warrant me that you had already planned your cottage -orné and had the walks laid out, and the shrubbery planted -quite tastefully and imaginatively picturesque. Several -castles, with steeples rather airy, of my own, were toppled -down, and elegantly bronzed as they were, are quite -useless now for purposes of reproduction, so that we may -say, that we have had some of the advantages of wealth -without a present care in disposing of it. The servant -girl who wished for riches “that she might ride in her -carriage and feel like missus,” had the delights of anticipation -only, poor soul! while ours are embodied in the -delicious reflection of having passed that “missus” on the -road, with a pair of fast trotters—taking the air with quite -an air, at the rate of “two forty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come easy, go fast,” was the remark of an old German -Uncle, who, having made a fortune by hard knocks at the -anvil, looked with a quiet smile at these thousands in perspective. -In regard to the <span class='it'>horses</span>, the old gentleman was -right—but as the <span class='it'>money</span> never came, I think his premises -were altogether wrong. One thing is certain, real estate -rose very rapidly in our vicinity at that time, and as several -lots went off at spanking prices, to be kept out of our -clutches, we may be said to have been benefactors to the -sellers and conveyancers. So that <span class='it'>copper</span>—the vilest of -metal—may, in some crucibles, be transformed into gold. -But not to anticipate.</p> - -<hr class='tbk149'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Grubemout</span> had been upon the mountain-side, which -overlooks the delightful village of Fleeceington, for a -month or more, making careful chiselings from rocks, -and excavations at their sides. <span class='sc'>Uptosnuff</span> carried his pick-axe -and his basket. The “collection” gradually swelled -upon their hands, until it became quite formidable; and -the “choice specimens,” were without number, rich, and -without reason, <span class='it'>rare</span>. <span class='sc'>Drawitwell</span>, the host of “The -Hawk and Buzzard,” had his eye upon their movements, -and always made it a point to take a peep at their basket -when they descended in the evening. He was an open-eyed -sort of an old lark, who had had his own way in the -village at election times and at trainings, by virtue of a -colonelcy and aidship to the governor—a cheap sort of -payment for service rendered—and he felt as if nothing -of importance ought to transpire in the place, unless he -had a hand in it. Drawitwell did not like the air of -mystery with which his lodgers slipped the covered basket -up stairs, after they had performed their ablutions; nor -the roaring noise made overhead, as the “specimens” -were poured into the two great chests, previously prepared; -and he was just the man to get at the bottom of -a mare’s nest. So, by virtue of appliances best known to -himself, he contrived to get a look at the collected specimens, -and made up his mind at once that the thing was -too slily managed by half, and that if there was wealth in -the rocks he would have a finger in the transaction. -“<span class='it'>He would at any rate.</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Crispin, the village cobbler, had thrown <span class='it'>his</span> eyes from -his lapstone, across the creek, and up the hill-side, to take -note of the motions of “the wandering stone-crackers,” -as he called them, and his brain was in a pother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The blacksmith had sharpened their pick more than once, -which had put on edge his curiosity, and had “contrived -to pick their brains, while they pecked the rocks,” as he -jocosely remarked, and <span class='it'>he</span> had smelt metal in their -movements.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Over their evening ale, at the tavern, the probabilities -and possibilities of gold or silver being found in the mountain, -were discussed with various degrees of profundity, -and the certainty that something of the kind was there, -was most sagely resolved on. Time, in whose crucible -all doubts are solved, soon confirmed their sagacity by a -“copper button” presented to the landlord with the compliments -of Uptosnuff, with hints, but not positive injunctions -as to secrecy. He knew his man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you think of that?” asked Drawitwell, of his -cronies the same evening, with an air of authority, holding -up the copper button. “What <span class='it'>do</span> you think of that, -my lads?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Hellow!</span>” exclaimed the bewildered cobbler, “landlord, -why—why is <span class='it'>that goold</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Gold, you fool! No, it’s <span class='it'>not</span> gold—but it’s a precious -sight more valuable—because there is a great deal more -of it used.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why what on earth is it, then?” asked the blacksmith, -in amazement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s <span class='it'>Copper</span>! my lads! <span class='sc'>Copper!!</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Copper!!</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I reckon it is!—and the genuine metal, too! -And the mountain is as full of it as an egg is of meat! -Only melt down one of the rocks up there, and you’ll see -how it will fly out!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To have stopped the spread of such information as this, -would have surpassed the ingenuity of our clerical friend, -who was opposed to the Magnetic Telegraph, as “a device -of the devil.” There was a California excitement in a -village, with California itself in their own mountain. <span class='it'>He</span> -would have been a lucky traveler, who could have had -his horse shod for a guinea, or a bridle-rein mended for -double the amount.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, my lads!” says Drawitwell, haranguing -the crowd, “they are going to do the fair thing by us, they -have bought the land, and are getting their act of incorporation -ready, and we are all to have shares in it at a -reasonable rate—and I reckon I’ll have a <span class='it'>few</span>, or money -must be scarce in Fleeceington. There’ll be high times at -the “Hawk and Buzzard”, <span class='it'>now</span>, I should say, when every -man in this prosperous village can be an owner, for a -small sum, in one of the richest mines on the face of the -earth. You see it’s going to be most unconscionable high, -too—it’s now twenty-two cents a pound—for the government -<span class='pageno' title='274' id='Page_274'></span> -is advertising for it in the newspapers—no doubt to -make bullets with to match the infernal poisonous Mexicans. -Gad, we’ll give the rascals a taste of their own -physic, <span class='it'>now</span>, I reckon! And then don’t they make water-pipes -with it now, and sheetings. And don’t they cover -houses with it, and ships; and I guess the time is not far -off when government will have her mint on this spot—and -what’s to hinder us, <span class='it'>then</span> from spending our own -coppers, bran new, ha! ha! If any body here has got a -farm for sale, I’m his man!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As for buying farms, the thing was perfectly absurd -now, and Drawitwell should have known it; for who -could tell that there was not a copper-mine under every -one of them. It was not to be supposed either that the -good people of Fleeceington could keep the knowledge of -such extraordinary wealth all to themselves, and our -usually quiet city was all agog, with the wondrous stories -of the extent and richness of the mines; and to confirm its -truth, Grubemout and Uptosnuff were here with the -charter, and the script elegantly engraved, and any number -of specimens, and copper-buttons confirmatory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a day or two a few shares were in the market at “a -slight advance on the original cost.” Capitalists had been -up who thought they “knew a thing or two”—and gudgeons -began to nibble, the knowing ones among the -number. The market advanced. One, two, three, four -hundred per cent. was quickly achieved as competitors -increased; and considering that the first cost was perhaps -a dollar an acre, for an unwooded, untillable, rocky hillside, -curved up and set down at a dollar per square foot -as “original cost,” the profit was tempting—the market -active—ditto the original holders. There was a fierce -avidity for a stock which advanced at such rapid strides, -and the reckless became crazy, the cautious reckless and -visionary. “The Board”—knowing dogs—looked on for -a while doubtfully, but in amazement. The “Outsiders” -indulged in ecstasies and fanciful millions. Thousands -were added up upon stock-books, as if they were “trifles -light as air”—<span class='it'>and they were</span>. Merchants cut the shop—lawyers -the red tape and sheep-skin—editors told the -messenger for copy to “go to the devil”—and all became -“gentlemen on ’change.” Healths were drunk “to the -United Copper-Heads”—and champagne and Havanas -“suffered some.” Fun and puns flashed fast and furious—and -all this the while the great bubble rose up, expanding -and beautifying as it ascended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not to be expected that a single mountain should -contain all this good luck exclusively, and in various -quarters envious copper-rocks poked their noses out, quite -seductively to anxious companies, who formed upon the -spot. One gigantic intellect proposed the formation of a -company to shovel the sand off of the whole State of New -Jersey, so as to get at the substratum, at once and emphatically. -Copper became substantially the <span class='it'>great</span> business -of life—the <span class='it'>only</span> business of the board—the <span class='it'>board</span> -being in fact rather a small affair while <span class='it'>copper</span> abounded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sharp occupied <span class='it'>his</span> time in buying up superfluous real -estate, which seemed to have been infected by copper, -and showed a disposition to <span class='it'>rise</span>—and he was afraid it -might go up and never come down again. The conveyancers -assured him that he ought to take it—like a sportsman—on -the wing, right and left. He did, and clapped a -heavy mortgage on it to keep it steady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That disturbed the figures on Flat’s memorandum—for -he hoped to have bought and paid for it with his expected -profit on copper, and to have staggered somebody else’s -property with a mortgage from the surplus. It was -provoking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jones and Wilkins resolved to “take a shy at the -copper anyway, while it was going;” but the stock of all -the companies seemed shy of them. They “bid ten -dollars through a broker”—it was twelve. “Bid twelve”—it -was fourteen. Wilkins had had enough of it. He believed -it was “only a bubble blown up to catch the eyes -of fools. He was done with it.” But Jones was down -in the morning, as merry as a lark, and as early. He -“knew some of the outsiders, and thought he would catch -some of them before the morning was over.” He did—and -went home to dinner, having made “a fortunate hit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Five hundred shares,” said he, “at fifteen, and the -last sale ‘after board,’ nineteen and a half! Four dollars -and fifty cents per share. Five aught is <span class='it'>naught</span>; five -fives are twenty-five, five fours are twenty, and two are -twenty-two. Twenty-two hundred and fifty dollars—that -will do for one day, <span class='it'>I</span> should say. Wilkins would -like me to give <span class='it'>him</span> half, as we were to have gone in together -yesterday, but I wonder what Wilkins ever did for -me, that I should give <span class='it'>him</span> eleven hundred and twenty-five -dollars! Not <span class='it'>quite</span> so green!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning Grubemout brought down some specimens, -which “he thought” would yield forty per cent. -<span class='it'>if they were assayed</span>, and thought that they ought to make -an assessment of a dollar a share, so as to put on more -hands and drive out the ore. Jones said that “that was -right enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The assessment was called in, at which the stock hesitated -for a day or two—made a start and went on—but a -second installment being urged, it faltered a little, and -then stopped. At the third it “<span class='it'>declined</span> a shade,” at -which the “bears” gave a shake and a growl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Grubemout had—in the nick of time—“just received -a letter from the mines of the most important nature, -which it would not do to show in ‘the street,’ or -the stock would be balooning it—Uptosnuff had <span class='it'>just made -a cross-cut</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The deuce he has!” exclaimed Jones, rather nervously. -“What is <span class='it'>that</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A cross-cut, you see,” says Grubemout, “is nothing -more than ‘a shaft’ run at right angles past the old one -we have been working. He struck some glorious ‘deposites,’ -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why I thought you always said there was <span class='it'>a vein</span>, -Grubemout? These deposites are confoundedly leaky and -treacherous affairs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And so there <span class='it'>is</span> a vein, my boy, and we are just getting -into it; deposites are always the first thing we look -for in copper mining. As long as we have them we get -on swimmingly; but you are so confoundedly skittish! I -was just going to tell you, that in making the ‘cross-cut,’ -Uptosnuff has struck ‘<span class='it'>the master vein</span>!’ and found an old -‘<span class='it'>drift</span>’ in the mountain, which you will see after a while, -is important. In it he found old hatchets, and hammers, -and images in copper, supposed to have been the rude -efforts at mining and smelting by the Indians long ago—say -before the Dutch had taken Holland, or achieved the -renowned name of Knickerbockers, and had gone home -copper-fastened.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Information so desirable as this would work its way out -somehow, and gentlemen would now bet you a trifle—say -champagne and cigars—that a dividend of twenty-five -per cent. would be declared on the stock the first year; or -would <span class='it'>give</span> you a hundred dollars for agreeing to pay the -annual dividend on a hundred shares.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jones is “satisfied <span class='it'>now</span>,” and forthwith buys five hundred -shares more, as do other Joneses, and Browns, and -Greens. Outsiders became as plenty as gooseberries, and -as verdant; and it would seem, from the number of shares -reported <span class='it'>at</span> the Board, and “<span class='it'>after</span>,” that certificates had -quadrupled, and never <span class='it'>could</span> multiply fast enough to supply -the demand. Indeed, as one old gentleman was heard to -<span class='pageno' title='275' id='Page_275'></span> -end a prolonged whistle, by exclaiming—“<span class='sc'>Gas!</span>” the -market became so inflated that the Joneses, Browns, and -Greens, declined the attempt of <span class='it'>cornering</span> the stock, in -despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The company,” called for an additional installment at -once. “Why, what the deuce,” asks Jones, “does the -company want with <span class='it'>more</span> installments? <a id='have2'></a>Haven’t they got -copper enough!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Copper <span class='it'>ore</span>, my dear fellow,” responded Grubemout. -“Yes, <span class='it'>lots</span> of it. But Uptosnuff wasn’t brought up in a -Cornish mine for nothing. The furnaces at Baltimore and -Boston want it for half-price, but as they are nearly <span class='it'>out</span>, -we intend to make them <span class='it'>smoke</span>, ha! ha! But we must go -to the expense of an “<span class='it'>adate</span>” in the meanwhile.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what’s the use of <span class='it'>that</span>—what good will that -do?” asks Jones. “What <span class='it'>is</span> an <span class='it'>adate</span>, anyway?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor Jones had a good deal yet to learn about copper-mining, -and felt naturally alarmed at these ominous terms. -The “cross-cut” was the beginning of puzzlers. He had -yet to see—I may as well say he ultimately did see, “the -drift,” to help along “the pumps,” as well as the adate -with installments, and to become familiar with a variety -of mining lore, which assists knowledge in its acquisition, -by obligingly allowing us to pay for it. But I believe he -never <span class='it'>did</span> understand “what they wanted with so many -work-shops—<span class='it'>he</span> thought they were <span class='it'>miners</span>!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An <span class='it'>adate</span>, Jones, is only a drain to relieve the mine -when it is overcharged with water.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! is that all!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But this calling in of installments seems to be a sort of -patent condenser in the stock market, and shows with -how much force a given quantity of air can be squeezed -into a given compass.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grubemout was as active as a bee at sunrise, and offered -his advice gratuitously—but “confidentially”—to any -number of anxious <span class='it'>inquirers</span>—but some of <span class='it'>them</span> having a -copper-mine of their own, by the attractive and <span class='it'>taking</span> -name of “<span class='it'>Penny</span>-wise Company,” and others having -taken a snap with the “Alligator Mountain Company,” -and not liking the bite they received, shook their heads at -Fleeceington and looked knowing—the “New Jersey” -chaps were quite sprightly, for as their <span class='it'>title</span> covered the -whole State, they had a fair chance of <span class='it'>realizing</span> something -when the “Mammoth Shoveling Company” got to -work, and lifted the crust off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grubemout assured them—“on his honor”—that “the -Company did not intend to sell an ounce of its ore to -the furnaces. They intended to have ‘<span class='it'>a crushing machine</span>’ -of their own erected at once, and proceed in a style -that would soon settle the whole business.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jones was “ready for any number of crushers or -mashers, grinders or pounders. Head up the creek—dam -it! Put up the water-works and the mill-wheel, and give -it to the <span class='it'>blasted</span> furnaces! Carry the war into Africa!” -said he.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The installment to carry on the adate was paid, though -it depressed the stock, but Jones could not see how having -paid the company five thousand dollars in installments -should depress <span class='it'>his</span> stock in the market. “Hang it!” said -he, “the company is that much richer in property and excavations, -and don’t I belong to the company—haven’t I -a thousand shares? It’s only paying money out of one -pocket, and putting into the other. Wilkins may laugh, -but he’s a fool! That’s a capital idea about the furnace. -You’re a boy, Uptosnuff—<span class='it'>you</span> are?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The installment for <span class='it'>crushing</span> purposes was soon called -in also, and paid, though the stock looked sickly, and -trembled as if it had the ague, or had passed through a -crushing process on its own hook. It was just composing -itself when Uptosnuff discovered that it was of the highest -importance to the company to have a small engine and an -iron pump erected at the mines at once, <span class='it'>as the richest ore -is always found below water level</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Jones—the active, energetic Jones—“had no doubt of -it at all. The Cornish miners assured him, when he was -up, that as soon as they got below water level, they would -come to something that couldn’t be trifled with. If Wilkins -wasn’t a fool he would go in soon, before it gets out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Uptosnuff, too, had had a quantity of the late ore assayed, -and Professor Stuffemwell, Geologist to Her Majesty, -thought it would <span class='it'>do</span> bravely. If ore that yielded fifty per -cent. would not, he would like to know how her majesty’s -subjects got rich, after paying the miners, on mines that -yield but fifteen per cent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Copper buttons now replenished the pockets of dealers, -and the stock made several violent gasps and starts for a -desirable existence. But it was consumptive—evidently -going into a rapid decline. The crushing process and the -iron pump having depressed its spirits, and exhausted still -further its vital energy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grubemout thought that if the buttons were pressed -into <span class='it'>bars</span>, and shown upon Change it might be encouraging, -and mitigate the violence of the disease; but some -wag of a broker suggested that it was “<span class='it'>a</span> <span style='font-size:smaller'>BAR</span> <span class='it'>sinister</span>;” -which remark sinister ruffled the backs of the <span class='it'>bars</span>, caused -the bulls to toss their horns unpleasantly, and shook still -further the liveliness of the stock, which drooped visibly -under the imputation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Even <span class='it'>Jones</span>—the ardent, trustful Jones—got earnestly -anxious about the state of the patient, and “suggested a -consultation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Brown</span> was full of good intentions, but “pleaded debility -of the pocket, which, under heavy depletion, was -rather low.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Green</span> was a little vivacious, and “suggested a new -<span class='it'>cross-cut</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Grubemout</span> was pleased with the idea, and hinted at “a -new installment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Uptosnuff</span> had “missed the stage, and was unable to -get down to the meeting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Wilkins</span>, in answer to a pressing invitation to “<span class='it'>come -in</span>,” was “busy selling goods.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Sharp</span> would not attend—“he had never had any thing -to do with the rascally copper, and found his real estate -bad enough just now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>Flat</span> “had enough of copper stock—it was not very -heavy, to be sure, having rather a tendency to dissolve -into air, its original element, but he was satisfied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>The Stock</span> grew feebler after consultation, as patients -are apt to, in critical cases, from want of remedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>The Bulls</span> looked surly, as if they had been disappointed -in pasture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>The Bears</span> were as frisky as it is possible to be on a -frosty morning, and were so much in their own element, -that you looked involuntarily around for floating icebergs—and -copper in this temperature of the atmosphere sunk -into a torpor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>On Change</span>, in this changing world of ours, copper -looked blue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>The Outsiders</span> had rubbed out their pencil-marks on stock -memorandums, and dissipating the written evidence of -thousands that had vanished into air, they themselves -vanished. It was needless to say any thing to <span class='it'>them</span> about -copper, they “never had any thing to do with it, beyond -a hundred shares or so, which they sold out before the -bubble looked like bursting.” Stockdom was desolate, -save that a few of the bears showed their teeth, and grinned -as furiously as if they had just arrived fresh from the -Polar regions, and had brought any quantity of wet -blankets with them. Yet they looked as if they would -<span class='pageno' title='276' id='Page_276'></span> -rather than not that any dealer in copper should take hold -of them. The bulls were more plentiful—looked savage -but knowing, but showed no disposition to dash at imaginary -enemies in scarlet, having rather a taste left for their -friends, the Browns and the Greens, who were urgently entreated -to “come <span class='it'>in again</span>, and help sustain the market.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The case was desperate, and desperate remedies were -resolved on. It was deemed advisable to “ask <span class='it'>the opinion</span> -of the directors!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The directors “<span class='it'>have</span> no opinion of the stock! They -never <span class='it'>had</span>,” of their own. They trusted to Grubemout, -to Uptosnuff, to the Cornish miners. Their geological -and mineralogical education, had been shockingly neglected -in their youth, and they have verified the fact, by having -on their hands, a thousand shares apiece at high -prices, by having assisted to sustain the market in the -various stages of the experiment. But “they <span class='it'>would</span> like -to know who were the ‘original’ stockholders of the company -who did them the honor to elect them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grubemout “thought it of the highest importance that -they <span class='it'>should</span> know, and as the original book of minutes -was up at the mines and as he was going up by the next -stage, would write and send them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It would be, perhaps, as well to give his letter:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='it'>Fleeceington, Dec. 10, 18—.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Gentlemen</span>,—I arrived safely at the mines last evening, -after rather a fatiguing journey by stage, and found, -to my unspeakable amazement, that Uptosnuff had exhausted -the vein, and that as no more deposites are to be -found he had thought it advisable to abandon the mine. -The tools, viz., four pickaxes, three shovels, and two -wheelbarrows—rather dilapidated—the property of the -company, I have put under shelter, to preserve them from -the weather—subject to your order or disposal. The iron -pump I should have removed also, but being rather heavy -in the absence of the hands—who have gone back to their -farms—I found it impossible to take in. It cannot, however, -suffer from rust more than ten per cent., and as the -original cost was but seventy dollars, the loss to the company -will be inconsiderable. There is a trifle of two hundred -dollars due, for boarding the hands, to the host of the -“Roaring Lion,” who will forward you his account by -this mail. As Uptosnuff and myself have suffered a great -deal from anxiety, and exposure in the mines of the company, -we deem it proper to seek a more genial clime. -Any little complimentary remuneration which you may -see proper to bestow on us, you will please enclose to -Mr. Drawitwell, of the Hawk and Buzzard, to whom we -are indebted for various little civilities, in the shape of -breakfast, dinner and supper, for the past six months, and -which no doubt the generosity of your complimentary -donation will amply cover.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Enclosed are “the original minutes.” Uptosnuff wishes -to be remembered <span class='it'>by</span> you. I join in the same prayer.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:10em;'>Yours, as ever,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Christian Grubemout</span>, <span class='it'>Pres’t.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk150'/> - -<p class='noindent'>To the Directors, Stockholders, etc.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>P. S. Please ask Jones to think of us. Not that it is -any of our business, but would like to know whether he -ever divided with Wilkins—it would be civil, you know. -Regards to the Bulls. Uptosnuff says ditto to the Bears, -for there is no knowing when one may want a friend, and -civility costs nothing.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'>C. G.</p> - -<hr class='tbk151'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Minutes, First Meeting.</span>—At a large and enthusiastic -meeting of the joyous and delighted inhabitants of the -charming and romantic village of Fleeceington, held at -“The Hawk and Buzzard Hotel,” to elect officers for the -newly discovered, freshly chartered, and highly valuable -and productive Copper Mine, just incorporated by an act -of the Legislature, under the name, style and title, to wit:</p> - -<hr class='tbk152'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>The Grand Open Sesame and United Catchem Copper -Mining, Crushing, Stamping, Pumping and Smelting -Company</span>,”</p> - -<p class='noindent'>Christian Grubemout, Eliakim Uptosnuff, J. Drawitwell, -T. Crispin and John Smith, the original incorporators of -the Company, after regaling themselves, proceeded to the -election of officers, and knowing that in the goodly city of -Philadelphia there were a number of persons by the names -of Jones, Brown and Green, and not a few Sharps and -Flats, they, in order to avoid giving offence, placed in a -hat the whole of the names, as above, found in the <span class='it'>Directory</span>, -(significant of the office they were to hold,) and drew -the following first three names, A. Jones, B. Flat, C. -Green, <span class='it'>directing</span> them to supply vacancies, and to fill additions -to the number <a id='off'></a>of five; adding in the meanwhile -the names of the first two corporators, as <span class='it'>ex-officio</span> directors, -to conduct silently the operations of the mines, -and to enlighten the others as to the true plan of working -copper-mines profitably and efficiently.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:0em;'>(Signed) C. GRUBEMOUT, <span class='it'>Pres’t.</span></p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:5em;'><span class='sc'>E. Uptosnuff</span>, <span class='it'>Sec’ry.</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk153'/> - -<p class='pindent'>The cleverness and explicitness of the whole transaction -showed that it had <span class='it'>been done</span> neatly; and the Directors -with singular unanimity felt themselves included in the -operation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There can be no doubt that Grubemout and Uptosnuff -are among the “placers” in California. The one being -undeniably the man who sold the two barrels of brandy, -by installments of a thimblefull at a time, for $14,000—the -other, with positive certainty, we aver to have been the -man who “confidentially” communicated the following -<span class='it'>item</span> to the newspaper press, and he must have been there -to have seen it:</p> - -<hr class='tbk154'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<div style="position:absolute;margin-left:-.5em; font-size:150%;">“</div><p class='noindent'><img src='images/H.jpg' style='float:left;' alt='H'/><span class='it'>The <a id='big'></a>Biggest Lump Yet?</span>—The following is about -the latest news from the gold diggins that we have seen -recorded in the ‘papers:’ A runaway soldier is said to -have discovered a lump or a rock of gold that weighed 889 -pounds and 11½ ounces; he was afraid to leave it, and -mounted guard upon it, and at the latest dates he had sat -there 17 days; had offered $27,000 for a plate of pork and -beans, but had been indignantly refused, and laughed at -for the niggardliness of his offer, by parties going further -on, where this article was said to be <span class='it'>more abundant</span>!”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class='tbk155'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Jones is among the lame ducks, and pretty roughly -plucked at that. But he still avers that if the furnaces -had only paid a good price for the ore at the outset, or -Wilkins had only helped him to sustain the market when -he asked him, he should have been the master of a pretty -snug little fortune. If he only had it <span class='it'>now</span>, he would charter -a steamer, and take his own freight and passengers for -the gold mines.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Hawk and Buzzard appears to have been “<span class='it'>pidgeoned</span>,” -for the last time I passed that way the house was -shut up. The business having amused itself by stepping -over to the Roaring Lion, while the Hawk and Buzzard -had flown to the city, “to watch the market.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Crispin “would only like to have one of those fellows -tied for a while, until he had expressed his opinion on him -with a stirrup.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Smith appears to be solicitous to “make them intimately -acquainted with the red-hot end of a poker—he’d -<span class='it'>smelt</span> ’em, <span class='it'>dam</span> ’em, and <span class='it'>crush</span> ’em too!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The “Dam,” the “Drift,” the “Cross-Cut,” the “Iron -Pump” and the “Adate,” you can see as you go wood-cock -shooting next August—but the “Steam-Engine” and -the “Mill-Wheel” never arrived, owing to some informality -in the order given to the mechanics.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>The Crusher</span>,” it is supposed, is in California with -its friends.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;font-size:0.9em;'>G.R.G.</p> - -<hr class='tbk156'/> - -<div><h1><a id='adieu'></a>ADIEU, MY NATIVE LAND.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>WORDS BY D. W. BELISLE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>ARRANGED FOR THE PIANO, BY JAMES PIPER.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i142f.jpg'><img src='images/i142.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0011' style='width:500px;height:auto;'/></a> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>My native land adieu;</p> -<p class='line'>  Ye blooming, sunlit hills,</p> -<p class='line'>Ye mountains tipped with blue,</p> -<p class='line'>  And lovely, dancing rills,</p> -<p class='line'>My</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<a href='images/i143f.jpg'><img src='images/i143.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0012' style='width:500px;height:auto;'/></a> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>heart is sad to part with scenes like you,</p> -<p class='line'>Ye much loved haunts of youth, adieu, adieu.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>       SECOND VERSE.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Sweet Memory, how my soul</p> -<p class='line'>  Beats at thy magic touch!</p> -<p class='line'>’Tis strange that thy control</p> -<p class='line'>  Can make us bear so much;</p> -<p class='line'>For, while my thoughts in sadness turn to you,</p> -<p class='line'>My heart in silence breathes a fond adieu!</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk157'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;'><span class='bold'><a id='notes'></a>Transcriber’s Notes:</span></p> - -<p class='noindent'>Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Grammar has -been maintained as in the original. Punctuation has been -corrected without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. -For illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to condition of -the originals available for preparation of the ebook.</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>Page 217, in the “Scientfic Halls,” ==> in the “<a href='#halls'>Scientific</a> Halls,”</p> -<p class='line'>Page 219, and platted his long ==> and <a href='#plait'>plaited</a> his long</p> -<p class='line'>Page 219, nicely platted queues ==> nicely <a href='#plait2'>plaited</a> queues</p> -<p class='line'>Page 222, courtiers whom Lí ==> courtiers <a href='#with'>with whom</a> Lí</p> -<p class='line'>Page 222, assidiously <span class='it'>rubbing his</span> ==> <a href='#ass'>assiduously</a> <span class='it'>rubbing his</span></p> -<p class='line'>Page 224, I hav n’t it ==> I <a href='#have'>haven’t</a> it</p> -<p class='line'>Page 225, has no othe ==> has no <a href='#other'>other</a></p> -<p class='line'>Page 227, to entercept the ==> to <a href='#inter'>intercept</a> the</p> -<p class='line'>Page 227, below. Unforfortunately, the ==> below. <a href='#unfor'>Unfortunately</a>, the</p> -<p class='line'>Page 236, many rejuvinated forests, ==> many <a href='#rejuv'>rejuvenated</a> forests,</p> -<p class='line'>Page 238, and wild-geraneum flowers ==> and <a href='#wild'>wild-geranium</a> flowers</p> -<p class='line'>Page 239, fair daugher of the ==> fair <a href='#dau'>daughter</a> of the</p> -<p class='line'>Page 241, be poweful to cheer ==> be <a href='#power'>powerful</a> to cheer</p> -<p class='line'>Page 244, fly-leaves was writen ==> fly-leaves was <a href='#write'>written</a></p> -<p class='line'>Page 251, was therefor, and ==> was <a href='#there'>therefore</a>, and</p> -<p class='line'>Page 254, free and unbiassed ==> free and <a href='#bias'>unbiased</a></p> -<p class='line'>Page 256, beloved and rewared ==> beloved and <a href='#reward'>rewarded</a></p> -<p class='line'>Page 269, T’is hence that ==> <a href='#tis'>’Tis</a> hence that</p> -<p class='line'>Page 275, Havn’t they got ==> <a href='#have2'>Haven’t</a> they got</p> -<p class='line'>Page 276, number off five; ==> number <a href='#off'>of</a> five;</p> -<p class='line'>Page 276, The Bigest Lump ==> The <a href='#big'>Biggest</a> Lump</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, -April 1849, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, APRIL 1849 *** - -***** This file should be named 53957-h.htm or 53957-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/5/53957/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from -page images generously made available by Google Books - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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